#if other people love it - i have nothing against it

[nerdyydragon]

Also notable: I rarely see anyone say this about, like, romance movies (at least in earnest; there are soooo many other discourses about romance as a genre, but this isn't one I've seen).

Nobody says "noooo, don't go into the quaint little small-town café, Miss New York Businesswoman Protagonist! No, you're so goddamned dumb for talking to the guy who literally collided with you walking in the door!! You're so effing stupid for allowing him to pick up the papers you dropped!

Nobody says "Character is ridiculous for not trying to avoid freezing to death by huddling for warmth in the cabin!"

Nobody says "but they should know better!" about romance plots, unless it's some "love thine enemy" thing where logically the character should know better than to fall in love with the tragic, handsome villain who just tried to have them killed/kidnapped/dethroned/etc., but even then. The characters in a romance plot don't somehow miraculously know they're in a romance, they just know that they've encountered a [charming stranger] [mysterious rival] [new understanding of their childhood bestie] [any and all trope pairings that apply] and that, as they go about their day, Shit Happens. Compared to other genres it might be comparably low-stakes because nobody's in danger of getting stabbed (maybe, who knows, it could happen), but they don't posses foreknowledge of the events because they're not aware that this sequence of events is something like "A Duke for the Holidays" instead of "just another goddamned Tuesday".

We know.

We're supposed to know.

While part of me rails against an easy reliance on trope marketing, primarily when it supersedes any and all notions of telling me what the gods-damned book is about, as an audience we are, consciously or otherwise, aware of tropes and trends and patterns. We know, as the audience, that in a small-town romance film Miss New York Businesswoman Protagonist is going to break up with her boyfriend who never has time for her and shack up with the hunky father of two who works as a conservationist for a near-extinct, totally-not-made-up species of butterfly that only reproduces every six years under the light of a falling star, or something*. That's how the plot works.

Half the fun is figuring out how it happens.

Half the scare is figuring out how it happens, because horror, like romance, has a pretty defined end (though it isn't always death, but that's pretty clear from the beginning when that's the case).

I'm a spec-fic author. I'm working on a gothic sci-horror novel that, in its alpha stages, has scared the bejesus out of my reader to the point where she thinks the monster is going to appear in her house. She keeps feeling like she's being watched. We're 2/3 of the way through and she's paranoid to the point where she can't actually read the thing for long stretches of time even if she desperately wants to. I also write fantasy, and there are tropes and expectations that I rely on there, as well. But gods, I'm so tired of people (beyond the half-terror under a blanket "no, don't go in there!!!" response, without acknowledging that it must happen) not applying the same logic to horror protagonists as they do to those of other genres. They're not dumb.

Horror isn't dumb.

It's profoundly, utterly human in its terror.

And to the main point of the post: nothing Jonathan Sims (Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London) could have done would have averted the ending to his story. He's a brilliant mind cracking under strain, attempting to wrangle forces well beyond human comprehension that prey on his being a brilliant mind attempting to wrangle them. The Entities, on occasion, give him what he wants. He learns. He grows.

Until he becomes a monster himself.

There are so many versions of the story, littered with alternate choices and voltas and changes in patterns. "No" instead of "yes" that eventually becomes "yes", anyway, because it has to.

A big-city businesswoman, visiting her aging father for Christmas, walks into a coffee shop and runs headlong into her widowed highschool sweetheart after years away.

A gallant knight, stripped of his armour, raises a sword to protect the princess and slay the dragon.

A PI cracks a cold-case that's been haunting the local police for years after they stumble on new evidence, almost by accident.

Almost by a miracle.

A brave starship captain lays down their life to save an entire planet, millions of lives, because it is right, and at the last second is retrieved by advanced technology created by a society that cares.

Jonathan Sims does the best he can with the information he has, and he almost makes it out in the end.

Until he doesn't.

There is no other version of the story.

----

*I was being mostly facetious in this claim but a part of me actually really wants a low-stakes cozy romantasy in this setting. I can't write that type of stake to save my life (even my fanfiction has to have something life-threatening, so no butterflies for me) so if that prompt strikes your fancy, feel free to steal it and modify however needed. Just... let me know if you ever finish it.

JONATHAN ARCHIVIST IS NOT STUPID SQUAD I WILL ALWAYS BE WITH YOU

[kitsuneplushie]

locked onto you⭑.ᐟ

what happens when your outfit is just a tad bit revealing?・suggestive content below! everything is mostly implied, sorry i'm too nervous to write actual smut. minors please don’t interact!!

˙ . ꒷ 🤍. 𖦹˙— a/n: sorry if this is a bit ooc, i haven’t written anything in so long that the original concept of this (it was supposed to be like revealing halloween costume) long passed AND this paragraph has been rewritten thrice. i struggled with these so bad if i’m honest bc i wrote half of it while being half asleep and my notes were sOOO BAD. i hope you enjoy nonetheless!! i love you all mwah

any pov but mentions of reader in a dress・not proofread

⌗ rafayel ⭑.ᐟ

“did my bodyguard get flushed down the drain or something? what’s taking you so long?” rafayel whined, shaking the doorknob impatiently. you brushed him off, regretfully staring at the mirror. the model in the ad wasn’t this exposed… right? you sighed, running your hands down your outfit, in hopes that you could make it just cover a bit more of you. “hellooo?” he continued to pout.

“okay okay.. stop your whining! i’m coming out.” you replied defeated. there was nothing more you could do. you had to face him, you were nearly running out of time. you slowly slipped out of the bathroom, meeting rafayel’s gaze. you both stayed silent, staring at each other. his ears and parts of his face shifted into a bright red hue. "weren’t you just in a hurry to go? why are you just standing here?" you teased, crossing your arms.

"well, maybe can just skip-"

"you're seriously not suggesting we cancel last minute, right?" you interrupted. “especially since this exhibition is for you specifically. you can’t just cancel! it’d look bad on both of our parts.” you continued lecturing him. you ushered him along.

on the way to the party, you noticed how handsy he was with you. especially when the driver tried to make conversation with you. rafayel pouted, leaning against you. his fingers brushed against your thighs at the very moment you arrived at the venue. you gave him a glance as you got out. he wasn’t this open with pda usually. there was something… off.

thomas catches you two up on the exhibition. as he does, rafayel is absolutely not listening. his attention is on a strand of your hair. he gently toys with it. you smile and nod in response to thomas, ushering rafayel along. “hey. earth to rafayel? c’mon you need to focus on. potential clients can approach at any moment!” you whispered to him. he deeply sighed before pouting at you. you opened your mouth to lecture him more but before you got a world out… people started approaching.

one person became two. two people became five. and so on. “mhm. oh! actually, i have to meet with my manager for a moment. excuse me. miss bodyguard? will you escort me?” rafayel quickly smiled. you squinted your eyes at him for a moment before accepting. wasn’t like you had a choice. rafayel led the way, taking you to an empty part of the venue. it was separated from rafayel’s exhibit. he sat down on a bench, letting out a soft sigh. you stood in front of him, crossing your arms.

“rafayel, what are we-“

he pulled you closer to him. he leaned his head against your stomach, looking up at you. you felt your face start to flush. “i just want a moment alone with you. you’re too distracting in that dress.” you’re head started to buzzed from the compliment. not to mention how close he was. you felt his hands rest on your lower back as he continued to lean against you.

“we really should get going..” you uttered, placing a hand on his arm. you know you should push him away, but you couldn’t find the strength in you. he whined.

“please?” he asked. “it’s hard to focus. help me…” he pouted. he leaned back on the bench, inviting you to sit on his lap. you ran your hand through your hair as you looked down at him. as much as you should’ve just said no. you gave in, sitting on his lap.

“you’re lucky you’re so alluring, idiot.” you whispered, kissing his neck. “now be a good boy and stay quiet.”

⌗ sylus ⭑.ᐟ

“didn’t take you for being someone who likes to be fashionably late.” sylus said from outside the door. “i think we want to get there when there’s still a party going on kitten.”

you rolled your eyes at his remark. ‘why would they throw a party at such late notice. especially with a dress code.’ you silently cry to yourself. you’ve been dressed for a bit actually. it’s just… this dress is way more revealing than you could of thought. is this just normal for the N109 zone? you let out a deep breath. this was your only choice.

“easy for you to say! you really expect me to show up like this?” you whined, swinging the door open. you look up to see sylus. his gaze was completely on you, his eyes looked you up and down.

“hm.” he replied moving closer, inspecting your outfit. he stayed silent still, walking around you. goosebumps spilled throughout your body as you felt his gaze fixated on you. "on second thought. stay here a moment." he finally stated, walking back out of the room. you let out a deep breath, as you walked back towards his bed. you patiently waiting for him to return. you expected him to be gone only a few minutes. but he sure was taking his time. right after he teased you about it. you roll your eyes and head out to find him.

you walked downstairs, seeing him talking with luke and kieran. they both peered their head over sylus. to glance over at you. they both slightly tilted their heads before focusing on sylus. "i take it that you two understand?" he asked. they both nod and quickly head off. "you as well mephisto." the crow cawed in response, stretching out it's wings. it flew in the direction of the pair, quickly catching up.

"now who's fashionably late? didn't you want to leave while there's still a party?" you teased, walking down towards him. sylus chuckled, turning around to meet you. "i thought you were going to get me a different dress."

"don't worry about it kitten."

"you really think i should go out like this? i... don't know. i think i'd draw too much attention and-"

"you're really stressed about this, huh?" he asked, tracing the strap with his finger. before you could reply, he started walking up the stairs. he looked at you, and tilted his head upstairs. you sighed and followed him. you didn't know what he had planned but was there even an other option. as soon as you reached his room again, his hands returned on you. "you look gorgeous in the dress though. i don't know how i'd feel having anyone else see you like this." he rested his face in the crook of your neck, facing you towards a mirror. his lips soft brushed against your neck.

"sylus... i can't." you mustered, dodging your reflection. "this information is very crucial. i can't afford to miss getting it."

"i know, i know." he softly replied. he brushed a stray hair from your face. his other hand softly grabbing on your hips. "i sent luke and kieran in our place, along side mephisto." he placed another kiss on your upper neck.

"sy..." you uttered, pulling away slightly. you gave him an concerned look. "we should've-"

"do you trust me?" he asked, leaning closer towards you. your breathing hitched, as you bit your lip. you slowly nod. your eyes locked with his. "i can assure you they'll get all the information you need and more." sylus pauses for a moment, tracing his hand down your jaw. "will you allow me to be selfish, just this once? it's hard to resist when you look this stunning." he tilts your head, showcasing your neck to his lips. he effortlessly leads you back to the bed, gently sitting you down. his kisses gently trail down. your eyes flutter, catching a glimpse of his hand greedily wrapping around your thigh. "lay back, i'll make it all up to you kitten."

⌗ zayne⭑.ᐟ

your doorbell chimes as you fidget with your hair, trying to make sure you look your best. "i'll be right there!" you called out. you looked over at the mirror once more, double checking yourself and your outfit. you sigh and quickly grab your things. you couldn't tell if you were underdressed or overdressed. however you didn't want to keep zayne waiting. you open the door, giving zayne a soft smile as he glances over you. "i hope i'm adequately dressed.." you nervously let out, stepping out of your apartment.

"you look beautiful, no need to worry." zayne reassured, ushering you to the elevator. "besides. it's just a little holiday dinner party that akso throws." his words comforted you, until you actually arrived to the party.

"i thought you said this was a small party? why would we need a venue of this size?" you uttered, as the two of you were ushered in. you were assigned to sit along with other employees in the cardiology department.

"we wouldn't be able to have room for all the departments if it was any smaller. and they have a live band during dinner." he uttered. a chill ran down your body as you felt him lean towards you. he placed his hand on your lower back, guiding you through the crowds. he stopped once he found a group of some of his fellow collegues. he introduced you to a few of them who weren't familiar to you. before talking about various topics. you mostly listened, but contibuted here and there.

“ah! doctor zayne! can i steal you for a moment, i need a bit assistance with setting up the other tables for the dining room.” a waiter asked, halting in front of us. zayne gracefully accepted, leaving you with his fellow colleagues. you left them be in their own conversations while you people watched. you sipped on the champagne they were handing out, just being in your own world.

“do my eyes deceive me? is that you miss? it’s an honor to finally meet you!” you turned around, seeing a complete stranger in front of you. you looked behind you to see if you were mistaken but he was talking to you. he smiles as he approaches you closer.

“and you are?”

“i’m sorry, i forgot that this is our first time meeting. excuse my poor manners.” he chuckled. he introduced himself and his position at the hospital. “you’re quite the talk of the town. you’ve saved plenty of our patients. we can’t thank you enough.”

“oh. it’s nothing. just my job.” you smile politely. you felt your nerves rise. you didn’t anticipate this type of interaction. he continued to praise you and get closer. his hand reached for your arm as he invited you for a drink.

“she already has plans for tonight.” a voice sternly spoke from behind you. zayne pulled you closer to him, leaving the man’s hand still in the air. “excuse us.” he glared, walking pass the man. you just looked at him with wide eyes.

“wait… zayne? the party? why are we heading to the car?” you asked, turning your head back. he showed no sigh of stopping, dead set on his objective.

“we made an appearance. that’s satisfactory enough.” he uttered. “it wasn’t mandatory anyway. we were just being polite.” zayne’s attitude usually wasn’t this stormy. it was hard to read him, but it was clear that something was pestering him. you stayed silent until you reached the car.

“hey, did something happen when-“

“no. i just didn’t like the way he was looking at you. i should’ve stayed with you.” zayne interrupted, looking at you. again, your eyes widened. he was never like this. “ah… i apologize. i don’t know what came over me.” you turn your body so you could face him.

“were you jealous?” you softly smirked, leaning towards him. you cupped his face. “it was pretty attractive…” zayne raised his eyebrow. he placed his hand on your seat, causing you to lean back into your seat. he was practically towering over you now.

“was it now? did you enjoy it?” he smiled, sliding his hand down to your thigh. “because i have no intention of sharing you, sweetheart.” you breath deepened as you felt him lean against you. he quickly pulled the leaver of your seat, pushing it all the way down. he pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your lips, purposely missing. you whined, grabbing on his tie. “should i make sure every man knows you’re already mine?” he asked, whispering into your ear. you continuously nodded as his hand slowly made way to your hips.

⌗ xavier⭑.ᐟ

you glanced over at the mirror. you nervously tried adjusting your outfit. was this too much for an casual job party? you really couldn’t tell. you did yet another glance in the mirror before your doorbell rang. you let out a breath before heading to your front door. you opened it to see xavier. “oh! look who’s finally back!” you smiled, opening the door enough to let him in. he slowly walked inside, taking in your appearance.

“are you heading somewhere?” he asked, ignoring your statement. he leaned against the arm of your couch, with his full attention on you. your heart raced as you ran your finger along the edge of your dress.

“unicorns wanted to throw a small office party.” you replied, walking a bit closer. your face started feeling warm. you couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or being flustered by xavier. “it’s a bit much, huh? the outfit? you know maybe i should change into something else.”

before you could step a single step, xavier pulled you into his arms. “you’re thinking too hard. you look lovely.” he replied, nuzzling his head into your shoulder. his arms rested around your waist. you stayed silent for a moment, indulging in the moment.

“xavier, i need to finish getting ready.” you softly say, slowly pushing his arms off. he readjusted his arms, resuming his grip.

“stay with me, for a moment. you have time right? i missed you.”

you let out a hum, as your thumb swept across his arm. you could spare a moment, surely. “fine, just a moment. but can we sit at least? standing here isn’t-“

with that xavier basically swung the two of you onto the couch. he cuddled against you, once again nuzzling into your neck. “was that really necessary?” you giggle, placing your phone onto the coffee table. xavier mumbled in response, placing a kiss on your neck. your body melted with a simple kiss. you slightly move away from xavier, now turning to face him. you cup his face with your hand, brushing your thumb along his cheek. he followed it up with a kiss, pulling you in. you deepened the kiss, feeling his hand grip your thigh. his hand trailed up to your hip.

“mm.. xavier.” you uttered, pulling away. “i got too ahead of myself. i really need to get ready now.” as you were about to get up, your phone rang. you swung your hand over, quickly grabbing it. “hello?”

“did you forget about your best friend tara?” a voice says over the line. “you’re still coming right? you weren’t answering my messages so i thought to call and check up.”

xavier slightly pouted, seeing your attention diverge from him. he pulled you closer, slowly placing kisses down your neck to your collarbone. you mouth at him to stop, your mind buzzing at the feel. he looked at you deviously, moving his hand to your lower back. now pressing himself against you. you let out a gasp, gripping your phone.

“are you okay?”

“oh. tara. i… i’m fine. i just.” you pause, trying to compose yourself. xaiver softly nips at your neck, really testing your ability to be quiet. “i just feel a bit u-under the weather. i’m sorry.”

“oh no! please get some rest! i hope you feel better soon! i’ll send some soup on your way.”

“ah… yes. i’ll see you.” you quickly replied, hanging up. you attempt to place your phone back on the table but completely miss. it didn’t matter, you mind was occupied on something completely different. “you’re such a little devil, you know that?” you gasp, raising your leg over his hip. he doesn’t even respond but goes in for another kiss, while holding onto the bottom of your thigh.

[basketball-lesbians]

Stiff

summary: Paige is insecure about the internet's assessment of her strap game, and Azzi helps her remember that she has nothing to worry about.

pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

contents: smut, fluff, pwp, strap use, oral sex, fingering (once again really its just smut i cannot lie... it gets lowkey disgustingly filthy in a few places. its sweet though, they're idiots in love!)

wordcount: 9076

a/n: Hey guys! Sorry for the long wait between freefall ch 1 and this upload- I got super busy between holidays and personal stuff going on, but I should be more consistent with uploads now. This fic was supposed to be shorter and... then it turned into 9k of filth. No questions at this time. Also, I had a few people ask, so I’m starting to do taglists- so do me a favor and if you’re interested in being included, just comment or message me and I’ll make sure to get you on there for future uploads. Thanks for reading and I hope y’all enjoy!

Theyre positioned on the couch of Paige's apartment in a way that's typical for them; Azzi sitting up with her legs out in front of her, crossed at the ankles while she reads- and Paige strewn out sideways across the other portion of the sectional, her head in Azzi's lap as she scrolls on her phone.

Azzi's right hand falls cyclically to play with the other girls hair in between flipping pages in an effort to keep her content while her focus is split between both her and her book.

Light streams through the window pleasantly, casting a golden glow on everything it touches, and the apartment is quiet- the other girls having gone out to a farmers market earlier in the day and leaving them alone together for the first time in what felt like weeks outside of spending the night in each others’ rooms.

The peaceful sunday afternoon silence they've struck up is rudely interrupted when Paige suddenly groans, rolling onto her side as she drops her phone away from herself like it just offended her, sending it bouncing onto the next couch cushion over. Azzi lets her book drop below her eyeline to look at the other girl, brows raised.

"Um... what was that about?" She asks tentatively, slow to engage for fear of further escalating her already always high energy and cementing the quiet moment they'd just been in as over.

Paige shifts closer to her, wrapping her arms around the younger girls’ waist and burying her face against her stomach, the loose blonde hair left out of her bun to frame her face tickling at the section of midriff exposed by the cropped camisole top the other girl wore under a grey sweat set.

Azzi sighs, setting her book down with the bookmark placed carefully to mark her place, bringing her hands to the girl in her lap fully- one moving to card through her hair and the other to rub her back.

"Hey. What's wrong, honey?" She asks gently, hands soothing in their slow motions. Paige nestles closer to her, holding her tight, her nose brushing the warm skin just above the waistband of Azzi's sweats. Azzi pretends the sensation doesn’t make her feel a little warmer.

"The internet, bro," The blonde finally grumbles, voice muffled where her face is pressed into her girlfriends' torso. Worry rises in Azzi's chest at that, her hands stilling.

"What? What happened?" She asks, pulling at Paige's shoulder to get her to sit up and talk to her. Paige frowns, wrinkling her nose as she obliges the prompt, rolling over to look up at the younger girls’ face from her lap.

Her expression is pathetic- eyebrows drawn together, blue eyes big and lips curled into a pout. Azzi can't help but chuckle at the sight, despite her mind drawing up worst case scenarios like it so often did. Paige groans at Azzi finding humor in the moment, drawing her arm over her face to hide herself in embarrassment.

Azzi smiles fully now, the silly nature of Paige's pouting easing the worry in the back of her mind. She takes in the half-obscured sight in her lap and lets it soothe her, appreciating every visible detail- the sharpness of her jaw, the length of her eyelashes as they rest against her cheeks, the prominence of her nose and cheekbones, the pretty shade of pink that adorns her soft lips.

"Babe, come on. What is it?" She asks, pulling gently at Paige's pale arm.

"You're gonna laugh," Paige whines, bringing her arm down from her face only to draw both of them up over her chest defensively, almost like a little kid would. Azzi rolls her eyes, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips.

"Oh my god, Paige. What is the matter?" She repeats, playful agitation biting at the corners of her tone despite the fact that her dimples give her underlying amusement away.

The older girl sighs dramatically from where she's set in Azzi's lap, waiting in silence for a five count before opening one eye to peep and see if Azzi is still looking, expectant for an explanation. She is. Paige sighs.

"They're sayin' I got stiff hips," She mutters, avoiding Azzi's gaze as the admission slips past her lips. Azzi’s eyes narrow as she furrows her eyebrows confusedly, having not heard her fully.

"They're saying what?" She asks, leaning closer slightly to be able to hear her better. Paige whines, shifting her posture antsily.

"Stiff hips, Az. They're sayin' I got stiff hips." She overenunciates, eyes becoming wide as she explains. Azzi holds her gaze, eyebrows high to match Paige's energy. She holds the expression for as long as she can before breaking, a laugh erupting out of her.

Paige groans yet again, rolling away from her girlfriend like she's trying to slink off the couch and into a puddle on the floor to avoid further embarrassment. Azzi reaches for her, stilling her progress with her hand around the other girls' wrist.

"Oh come on, you big baby," She chides, pulling her back into her lap, cradling her head as she shifts.

"Like they would know, anyway," She dismisses, hands coming up to grab her face, thumb brushing over the the hinge of her jaw as she presses a kiss to her forehead. Paige grins at that, sly and lopsided, holding Azzi's gaze like she's trying to be sure she heard it right.

"Aw, nah?" She smirks up at her, that stupid expression she reserved just for her girlfriend slowly spreading across her face.

Azzi hums. "Unless there's something you're not telling me," She teases, fingers toying with the collar of her crewneck, brushing her collarbones.

Paige smiles dopily, lifting her head and cupping the sides of Azzi's face, pulling her down gently just enough to connect their lips. It's slow and sweet and just a little bit wet, and Paige thinks about all the times they've kissed before and how it's never felt any less perfect than it did the first time.

Seven years later, and she still can't get over the feeling of how Azzi's lips feel against hers.

She shifts to sit up, the movement a little awkward on the way, and comes to settle upright next to the other girl, dominant hand settling just below her hairline on the back of her neck to ease her closer. She moans quietly into the kiss, unable to help herself, and then deepens it- leaning forward and pushing Azzi along with her, putting her on her back.

Azzi's hands meet over the back of the other girls’ neck as she settles over her, her hips snug against the younger girls' with their legs slotted between each other. Azzi bites gently at Paige's lip, and Paige has to choke back a groan as she gives into the chase, letting her tongue dart out to run along the other girls' bottom lip.

Azzi hums before slipping her tongue into her girlfriend's mouth, finding hers and running against it before sucking at it gently, drawing it out. Suddenly, they're pulling apart just enough for Paige to speak, still close enough that their lips to brush when she does.

"F'real though. Y'think I'm stiff?" She asks, her blue eyes full of conviction and concern as they meet Azzi’s once again. Now it’s Azzi’s turn to groan as she rolls her eyes beneath the blonde, much to Paige's dismay.

"Hey! I'm serious, dude," Paige pleads, looking at her girlfriend intently, impatiently awaiting a response. Azzi stays silent, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth as she tilts her head in consideration, hands still interlocked behind the other girls’ head.

"I mean..."

Paige whines, dropping her head to Azzi's chest. Although her intent was pure, she's pleased when her face nestles perfectly between the other girls' breasts, soft warm flesh surrounding her features. She could die here, she thinks.

"Oh come on, I was joking," Azzi says, trying to soften the blow. Her fingers run slowly along the back of her neck, wandering up to toy with the loose hair at the base of her bun.

"S'not funny," Paige defends weakly, speech muffled by the soft skin surrounding her face. Azzi watches her, evaluating for a moment, and then makes up her mind, narrowing her eyes and sucking her teeth as she does.

She sits up, climbing out from under Paige, and Paige looks at her incredulously, already primed to put on a dramatic show of great offense over the fact that the other girl would leave her from their comfortable position on the couch in such a vulnerable time.

She rises to her feet, turning as she outstretches her arm in front of her to hold her hand out, signalling for the other girl to grab it. Paige stares blankly from her place on the couch, unsure of what's happening.

"Come on," Azzi prompts, opening and closing her offered hand to add emphasis to her words. Paige's eyebrows furrow, her hair still tousled from their brief rendezvous seconds ago.

"Huh?" She replies, clueless, neck craning forward and one side of her lip curling as she asks to add emphasis.

Azzi sighs, stepping closer and taking both of Paige's hands into hers. She draws her upright into a sitting position, stepping into the space between where her feet are planted.

This close, Azzi can feel the blonde’s breath tickling at her stomach, her baggy sweatshirts’ zipper fixed low to allow her abs to still show- a decision she made deliberately when she’d put it on this morning.

Paige looks up at where her girlfriend stands above her and can’t help but think that it feels wrong to be in this position and not have her hands free to be able to wrap her arms around the other girl- to slip under her sweatshirt and feel her skin, to wander down and grab at her ass, to pull her into her lap.

"I said," She repeats, eyes locked to Paige's as she presses kisses over the other girls' knuckles, big brown eyes watching carefully with a glint of fire in them as she does it. The blonde holds her breath, lips slightly parted as her gaze drags from Azzi’s eyes to glance at the pink fullness of her lips and back.

"Come," Kiss. "Here," Kiss. "Then." Kiss.

Paige watches cautiously, a feeling that’s a healthy balance of being turned on and a little scared settling in her chest.

"I cant lie... I'm lost, what are we-" Azzi rolls her eyes again, dimples popping as she makes an exasperated face while stepping back, pulling as she goes to bring the taller girl up to stand.

"You're worried about having stiff hips, yeah?" She asks, her voice thick with a flirty tone that the blonde swears wasn’t there only a moment ago.

Paige stands slowly, letting herself be pulled, shrugging and then slowly nodding as she waits for a point to be made. Azzi comes in closer, leaning into Paige’s frame, dropping her hands so that one can settle over her hip, the other on her chest.

Suddenly the blonde is acutely aware of all of the places she can feel the other girl- not the least of which being her leg that brushes against her own as her foot settles between where her own are set, eliminating nearly every bubble of space between them. Paige’s breath feels thick as she breathes out, trying to resist the urge to swallow as she feels the warmth of the other girl braced against her.

"So why don't you come prove it to me that you don't?" Azzi challenges, voice sultry and sweet as she looks up at her, and Paige's jaw almost drops.

Azzi could hold her own, sure. Their little spats and back-and-forth nature were cornerstones of their entire relationship- always had been. They wouldn't be Paige and Azzi without the playful dynamic they always seemed to keep up.

But she was only bold to a point- usually, and for years now, there was a clear line they'd found, a place between gearing up to sex and actually getting there, where Paige had almost always just naturally taken over- at least to initiate things.

It wasn't always that way, per se, but it definitely was more often than not. Between that and the fact that Paige had basically been obsessed with her since she was 16, giving her anything she ever wanted at any indication she wanted it- in moments like these, Azzi had a way of catching her completely off guard.

"Wha- f'real?" Paige asks, frozen in place at the proposition. It was almost always Paige prompting, Paige setting the foundation, Paige leading- Azzi wasn't any less passionate about being intimate, she just liked to be led. And it worked well, because Paige liked to pull her along.

Azzi so openly putting it all on the table on a random Sunday afternoon, (and especially when she had been nose deep in a book less than 10 minutes before) was definitely not something Paige had really anticipated happening. Azzi quirks an eyebrow, digging her heels in.

"Unless you don't think you're up to the task?" She asks, voice donning a kind of feining innocence she only ever put on when she was being especially bratty.

Paige's face flushes at that, never one to give up a challenge- and she's on her feet, grabbing Azzi by the wrist and dragging her to her bedroom, determined to prove herself. Azzi giggles, pleased by the continuation of her perpetual ability to get what she wants from the blonde, and follows, only spurred on by her girlfriends' reaction.

Paige pushes the door closed behind them as soon as they enter the room and immediately grabs for the other girl, pulling her flush against herself by the waist. Azzi leans into the contact as their lips meet, hands coming up to settle on Paige’s chest as she deepens the kiss.

Azzi arches into the way the other girl is holding her, and Paige slips her hands up the back of her sweatshirt, any excuse to feel more of her. She steps them back towards the bed, slowing as she approaches to let Azzi get a feel for where the bed is before they go tumbling onto it.

They do, and Paige is quick to keep things progressing, catching herself with her hands to keep from falling over Azzi and then leaning back on her heels to pull her shirt over her head. Azzi's eyes track the movement carefully, watching her arms flex with the motion and dropping to look at her abs before darting back to her face when she realizes she's been caught.

Ordinarily, Paige would stop and tease, but today she's too eager. Instead, she reaches down, fingers grasping the zipper of Azzi’s sweatshirt, and drags it down, opening access to warm skin beneath it that’s been teasing her all day. She leans back in and nestles into the crook of Azzi's neck, dropping kisses against the soft warm skin there, their bare stomachs pressing against each other with the movement.

Azzi hums as her hands run up Paige’s back, keeping the other girl close and feeling the subtle flexing of the muscle there as she turns her head, kissing the side of Paige’s face where it’s nestled into her neck before pulling her back and recentering her above herself to reconnect their lips.

Paige shifts so one hand can come up between them to Azzi's stomach, pushing under her skin-tight tank top and bunching the small amount of fabric up onto her chest, revealing her abs and breasts. Azzi’s breath hitches at the motion, watching as her hands roam, admiring the contrast of the paleness of her skin against the deepness of her own, blood rushing to her head as she watches Paige go to work against her.

The blonde kisses down the younger girls’ neck and shoulders eagerly, nipping at her collarbones before making her way down to her chest and taking a pebbled nipple into her mouth. As she leans into her, the knee she has slotted between Azzi's legs pushes against her, giving her friction closer to where she wants it, making the other girls' breath catch.

She revels in the way she feels Azzi's breathing change underneath her, feels her start to squirm as she switches sides to show its twin the same affection before letting up in favor of progressing further down her body.

Her skin is warm and soft and smells like vanilla as she kisses down her stomach- it's more intoxicating than anything else Paige has ever felt in her life. She gets to her waistband and is about to pull her sweats down when Azzi taps her shoulder to get her attention.

She pauses, looking up at her with tented eyebrows as she hovers in place. "Hm?"

Once she stills, Azzi reaches down and grabs her face by the chin, eyes hooded. Paige wets her lips as she holds the eye contact, trying to steel herself and not let on the way her boxers are getting uncomfortably damp beneath her sweats.

"C'mere," She whispers, and Paige is immediately thanking god that her roommates aren't home as she climbs back up to oblige her girlfriends' request.

Their lips collide, and before she really knows what's happening, Azzi is pulling her close, locking her arms around her back before shifting hard to roll them both over and straddle her waist. Paige's mouth subconsciously falls open the slightest bit when she’s put on her back, and Azzi can't help but smirk.

She straightens her back and grabs at the bunched up fabric of her camisole that Paige had so impatiently pushed out of her way, pulling it up and arching her back as it goes to help it over her head.

Beneath her, Paige swallows and fixes her hands on her hips tightly, trying not to touch like a child watching a cake being frosted- watching desperately with a watering mouth as she takes in the scene unfolding in front of her. Everything about what she sees, she's absolutely obsessed with: her skin, her toned stomach, her perfect chest, her strong arms and shoulders, the beautiful way her dark curls cascade over her shoulders. She's perfect. So, so perfect.

"Fuck, Az," She mutters, eyes wandering over her frame. Azzi almost feels shy for a second with the way she's being looked at, but she manages to cut her thought process off.

After all, even with all the people in the world who said unhinged shit about her girlfriend online, she was the only one who got to sit half-naked in her lap whenever she wanted. Not a lot of reason to feel self conscious about that.

Azzi leans forward, hands grabbing the other girls’ to push them up and against the mattress for her own balance as she closes the gap between them to kiss Paige’s neck. The taller girls' legs naturally come up to settle with her feet flat against the bed, her thighs just behind Azzi's ass, keeping her close.

Azzi hums as she presses kisses up Paige's jaw, messy and warm and creating a feeling in Paige's gut that's very hard to ignore. The feeling of having her in her lap- breasts bare and pressing into her chest, ass pressing into her as she shifts- paired with the feeling of her full lips kissing their way across her neck and shoulders, curls tickling with the movement as they brush against her skin, is nearly enough to make her brain short circuit.

Having her hands pinned is torture- she's dying to be able to touch her. She pushes her hips forward, few other options available, and Azzi breathes in sharply at the contact, drawing back just barely to ground herself.

"Mmm, gotta be patient baby," She chides, renewing her efforts in the space between her girlfriend's neck and shoulder.

Paige groans. She wasn't used to not being able to pivot things where she wanted- to control the pace and the acceleration of things.

"Thought I was tryna show you sum," She argues, fighting hard to keep any trace of how pathetic she feels out of her voice when she says it. Azzi hums, nipping at her earlobe.

"Why don't you, then?" She counters, and Paige wastes no time in pushing up with both her hips and hands to roll Azzi back over, reclaiming her position above her.

They're both slightly out of breath once they resettle, and Paige supports herself over Azzi, holding the eye contact and letting their breath mix together in the minuscule amount of space between them.

Paige is acutely aware of the heat settling low in her belly at the way Azzi looks at her. Azzi, equally bothered, is trying hard not to squirm as she watches her girlfriend wet her lips, the veins in her hands and arms more prominent than usual after her display of strength to flip them back over.

"You gonna behave and lemme have my way w'you, babygirl? Or y’still need to get some energy out?" She asks pointedly, and a surge of pride goes through her when she sees the way a flush creeps across Azzi's face, no argument making it's way past her lips for once.

Balance restored.

Her big brown eyes peer up at her with the neediest expression she thinks she might have ever seen, and it doesn't take much convincing after that to hurry along, her point proven.

"A'ight then. I gotchu, mama," She says, pressing a single kiss to her neck before standing, letting her hands come to her hips as she surveys across her bedroom.

"Where'd that fuckin' thing end up, anyway?" She asks, and Azzi giggles from the bed, eyes lingering on her bare stomach as she turns her body, looking around the room.

"Closet, right? Had to move it when KK came in to play playstation?" She asks, and Paige turns to her, smiling.

"My girl’s so smart." She praises, reaching out to pat her leg as she walks past the bed to the closet. Azzi rolls her eyes, a small smile on her face as she tracks her with her eyes, biting at her finger as she watches her saunter over to open the closet door, sweats clinging low on her hips, boxer line peeking out just barely.

Paige stoops down to dig through a specific shoe box amongst the many that live in the small space. She knows she shouldn't be as turned on by the sight as she is, but there's just something about the way she looks, her legs spread and her arms settled on her knees as she balances on the pads of her feet while rummaging through the closet, searching.

It takes long enough for Paige to finally find it that by the time she's turning from the closet, victorious and holding the toy high above her head, she’s almost surprised to find that Azzi’s still looking at her. She lets the toy fall to her side as she comes to kneel on the edge of the bed in front of the other girl.

"Hey," She says, nudging Azzi's nose with her own, as she sets the strap and harness down above her head on the bed, out of sight. Azzi smiles at her, and for a moment, nobody else in the world exists, brown eyes meeting blue, their breath combining in the small space between them.

"Hey, yourself," She returns, reaching above her head to grab for the toy. Paige chuckles, spreading her arms wide in a stretch as she stands back up. Azzi’s eyes trail over her figure, taking in the sight of her stance, the way her abs flexed with the movement.

"Was gonna ask if you changed your mind, you seemed like you were zonin' out over here," She jokes, and Azzi makes a face.

"Sounds to me like you're getting nervous," She taunts, bringing the contraption in front of her face to get a better look at it. Paige clicks her tongue, shaking her head.

"Whatever, bro," She dismisses, leaning in to press a kiss to Azzi's forehead, hand smoothing over her curls lovingly as she hovered there.

"You sure you still wanna?" She asks, softer now, and Azzi nods, her focus clearly elsewhere as she shifts the harness to one hand and reaches out to grab her by the hips to maneuver her closer.

"If I can remember how to get this to work," She jokes, and Paige smirks, going to grab it from her. “I got it.”Azzi pulls it away from her prying hands, scoffing at her lightly.

"You never even put it on in the first place, dummy. Take your pants off and c'mere, I can figure it out." Paige laughs at that, hands going to untie the drawstring that's tucked into her waistband.

"Yes ma'am," She replies, stepping out of her sweats and then bringing her boxers along with them not long after, dropping them to the floor in a way that's all too familiar for the younger girl- makes it a little bit harder to swallow, too.

Azzi beckons her forward, putting significant effort into focusing on what she’s doing and not getting distracted by the perfect shade of pink peeking out from her girlfriend’s mound- and reluctantly, Paige goes.

"Here, step into this," Azzi says, holding a portion of the harness open for her, her eyes lingering on her girlfriends' naked frame. Paige chuckles, putting a hand on Azzi's shoulder to stabilize herself as she does as she's told.

She didn't remember it feeling this awkward the last time. Then again, it had been a while since they'd used it last- they’d both been so busy that any time that they’d found as of late to love on each other was kept entirely to quick hands and eager mouths.

Azzi furrows her eyebrows as her fingers go to work, adjusting buckles and straightening straps. Paige watches her face intently, trying not to feel silly.

"Turn," The curly headed girl prompts, and Paige follows the instruction mindlessly, feeling slightly like a kid getting their winter coat put on by a parent before being allowed to go outside to play in the snow.

Azzi tugs a specific section and it finally tightens- a little too fast, pinching at Paige's skin as it comes flush with flesh. The blonde jumps, disregarding the adjustments happening as she shoves her fingers between the harness and her skin to create a protective barrier and sooth the sting.

"Ow, Azzi!" She protests, and Azzi's head snaps up to look at her, eyes full of sympathy. "I'm sorry, baby. It was an accident," She soothes, running her thumb over the area and leaning over to press a kiss to it.

With that, it's already forgotten, the harness finally settled snug to Paige’s hips. Paige nods, mostly to herself, pushing her fingers underneath the straps once more to adjust herself to be more comfortable- and then she’s coming around to the other side of the bed and grabbing Azzi by the tops of her thighs, pulling her to the edge of the bed with no warning, causing her to yelp in surprise.

“Whoa, what are y-“ Paige shushes her, sinking to her knees, and loops her fingers under Azzi’s sweats, pulling them over her hips in one swift movement. Azzi watches the rushed movement with eager eyes, swallowing thickly while picking up her hips to help her tug them down.

Paige stoops down, and Azzi’s heart flutters in her chest as she starts to litter kisses on the insides of her thighs. The blonde is slow and intentional with her movements, arms coming to rest on the outside of Azzi’s spread knees as she sucks a purple mark into the other girls’ skin, soothing it with a swipe of her tongue and a chaste kiss afterward.

She continues to drop kisses as she moves up her thigh til she reaches her center, playing close attention to the subtle changes in Azzi’s breathing as she goes, and then slows, pressing a kiss to her clit through the thin cotton. Azzi lets out a breathy little gasp at the contact, neck craning to get a better view.

Paige presses another kiss, more pressure behind it than the last one, and then slips a little lower, repeating the motion. When she does, she finds the most perfect surprise waiting for her- Azzi’s completely soaked through the pretty purple panties she’s wearing.

“Oh my god, Azzi Jazlyn,” She remarks, looking up at the other girl with an amused look painted across her face. Azzi blushes, really blushes, and hides her face in her arm, a pouty little noise of protest falling from her lips at being mocked.

“Is it that serious?” Paige asks, tone dripping with sarcastic concern, and Azzi reaches down with the hand that isn’t obscuring her face to shove at Paige’s arm. The blonde just grins, shaking her head as she leans back and hooks her fingers under the waistband of the dampened fabric.

“Just teasin’, mama,” She soothes, voice husky as Azzi picks up her hips again.

“Y’know I fuckin’ love that shit,” She mumbles- mostly to herself- and she tugs the article over the swell of the other girls’ ass, eyes widening when they bring a string of glistening slick with them as they come away from the younger girls’ cunt.

She can’t help the groan that falls past her lips as she tugs them the rest of the way down, watching in disbelief as the strand stretches and the breaks, dropping to stick to the younger girls’ upper thigh.

Azzi hisses at the cold sensation, her face burning with embarrassment, and Paige quickly discards the pair of underwear behind her before her hands find the other girls’ legs again and she leans in, licking the slick off the supple skin of her upper thigh like she’s been in the desert and its the first drop of water she’s seen in days.

Azzi’s eyes drift back in a mix of disbelief and pleasure, biting at her lip in an attempt to keep her composure as Paige kisses the same place messily, leaving it wet.

She continues her trail of kisses up her thighs, one hand absentmindedly wandering over to the junction of Azzi’s hip, stopping there with her fingers held out as if signaling for Azzi to meet it with her own. She interlocks her fingers with her girlfriends’, and Paige looks up at her, a slight smile on her face before craning her neck back down, eyes still locked with Azzi’s as she licks into her cunt.

Azzi lets her eyes fall shut at the first contact, letting herself focus on the warmth of Paige’s tongue and the slick of her spit mixing with her own arousal over her clit. When she opens them again, she sees blue eyes still on her from between her legs, holding her gaze, careful to watch for any indication to stop- even though they both know it won’t come.

Paige is slow, letting her tongue run over her girlfriends’ pussy deliberately, reveling in how wet she finds her, how good she tastes. She sucks her clit into her mouth gently, and Azzi winces above her, curls pressed into the pillow as she kicks her head back and arches into the contact.

She lets her tongue come to assist the suction, running it over the base of her clit while she suckles at the head of it gently, and then lets it go, coming off with a pop!, pink lips glistening as they come away wet.

She brings her head back slightly and blows gently, the cold air sending goosebumps forming under Azzi’s skin, and watches her reaction carefully as she licks over it again. Azzi feels the other girls’ eyes on her and bites at her bottom lip, bringing her free hand up to palm at her breast as she holds the eye contact, teasing from where she's laid out.

Paige blinks slowly as she watches, eyebrows raising slightly- just enough to be noticeable, and she’s thankful her mouth is occupied so she doesn’t say something stupid in her awed state.

How lucky could one person get?

Azzi’s painted fingers move deftly to roll her pebbled nipple between her pointer and thumb, squeezing the mound of flesh to her chest and then repeating the motion, never breaking the eye contact. Paige watches eagerly and lets her tongue to continue to work her, slow and sensual and utterly pussy drunk, and Azzi is buzzing knowing how well she’s captured the girl between her legs.

Paige lets her tongue slip lower, the younger girls’ taste getting stronger and sweeter as she teases at her entrance- and Azzi gasps at the sensation, her right hand abandoning its efforts over her chest to come down her bare torso and grab at Paige’s hair, tangling into blonde strands still held back loosely by a hairtie.

"Fuck, Paige," She curses, her hips canting up and just slightly off the bed, smearing her slick across Paige's chin and nose. She pauses, giving an apologetic look when she realizes she's made a mess of the bottom half of her girlfriends' face, but Paige only chuckles.

She lets go of the younger girls' hand where their fingers are intertwined over her hipbone to bring both arms around her legs and over her hips to hold her still, fixing her in place before refocusing her efforts. Azzi whimpers at the feeling of being held so firmly while Paige knelt between her legs and went to work like a woman starved- so safe and desired and spoiled all at once.

She watches the slight flex of the blonde’s biceps as she holds pulls her impossibly closer, sloppy with her ministrations over the other girls’ clit, her jaw working as she alternates the shapes being drawn over the swollen nub to tease the most perfect little moans from her lips. The younger girl lets her newly free hands come up, crossing over her face in an attempt to hide how desperate she feels.

Paige smirks as she delves lower again, pushing into her cunt with her tongue and watching her facial expressions from between her legs, growing wetter by the second seeing how worked up she could make the other girl. Azzi's mouth hangs open in a silent gasp in response to the intrusion, eyebrows drawn up and together.

Paige opens her mouth wider, giving herself the leverage to fuck her tongue into her deeper- and Azzi picks a leg up to put it over the blonde's shoulder, improving the angle. The movement only makes Paige double down on her efforts, drawing back slightly to pull her right arm from its place over her hip in favor of bringing it low between them to meet the glistening slick of her pussy.

She keeps her tongue sliding in and out of her entrance, bringing her left thumb down over her pelvis to run over her clit. She’s aided by the wetness that's making a mess of her cunt- slowly spreading to her thighs now, too. Azzi whimpers, and the Paige borderline growls at the sound, drinking in the control she has over the other girl and the sounds she’s pulling from her lips.

She runs her tongue flat against her, running from entrance to clit, lapping up the juices she’d pulled since pressing the muscle into her needy cunt. She sucks her clit into her mouth again, letting the fingers of her free hand trail lower, tantalizingly slow in their movements as they ran deliberately teasingly along her folds, feeling the slickness of her juices over soft skin.

She lets her middle finger slip deeper, probing against her entrance, and Azzi’s breath catches at the feeling, hips bucking up in a desperate attempt to fill the ache inside of her.

"Ohmygod- please," She babbles, and Paige lets off her clit so she can sooth her. "Shh- I know, I know. You're okay mama, I gotchu.” She drops an open-mouthed kiss to the swollen bud.

“Jus’ needa stretch you out and make sure you're ready for it baby. S'been a while, hm?” She coos, lips brushing against her cunt as she says it, and Azzi whines, angling her hips so she feels her deeper. Paige hums at the observation, taking in the sight of the younger girls’ pussy as she has her way with her- glistening with wetness and the perfect shade of swollen pink.

"So needy for me, huh, baby?" Azzi nods deliriously, desperate for more- and Paige laughs sympathetically at her. "A’ight, sweetheart," She whispers, slipping two long, slender fingers in and curling them as she slides knuckle deep in one flush movement.

She presses deep entirely too easily, fingers brushing against her sweet spot far before the other girl had anticipated they would work themselves that deep- and its all she can do to whine at the sensation, throaty and guttural.

“Feels good?” The blonde husks, as if she doesn’t already know the answer. Azzi groans, humming a sweet little 'mhm' in response and hoping it’s enough, because it’s all she can muster. Paige eases in and out of her slow, reveling in how wet her fingers come away each time she draws them out of her pussy.

“Fuuuck, baby,” She husks, in awe of how perfect this girl is- how wet she’s gotten, how good she’s taking her fingers, how pretty her pussy is. Azzi whimpers, her hips chasing her fingers every time she draws them out, little ah, ah, ahs falling past her lips every time her fingers brush against that spongy spot deep inside of her.

Paige groans as she fucks into her gummy walls, chasing the high brought on by the younger girl’s delicious little noises. She's successful, Azzi keening when she strokes particularly deep- arching her back off the mattress, her abs flexing with the effort. The blonde watches eagerly, eyes hooded and lips wet as she observes every filthy detail of the unholy ministrations she’s working against Azzi’s cunt.

"'S it that good, baby? You like it when I stretch you out and get you ready for my dick, sweet girl?" Paige coos, and Azzi's too far gone to even manage a response, nodding deliriously with thick eyelashes fluttering against her flushed cheeks as she just stares with a fucked out expression, breathy little noises spilling out of her with each curl of her girlfriends' long fingers against her inner walls.

Unable to resist the urge, she lets her tongue lash over her clit again, moving in fast flicks of motion that she has to put conscious effort into limiting the pressure of in order to prevent overstimulating the swollen nub that’s already flared an angry pink.

"P-please, P, need it," Azzi whines, and Paige looks up at her, undeniably pussy drunk. "Yeah? Tell me what you want, baby," She says, tone sultry and words slurring with lust in a way that was just for Azzi.

"More," Azzi whines, and Paige tuts at her.

"Nah- you know better. Ask me right," The older girl corrects before bringing her mouth back to her core. Azzi whimpers pathetically before taking a steadying breath, steeling herself.

“Please,” She chokes, desperate for more despite the fact that her eyes were already welling up with tears at the intensity of what the blonde was doing to her.

“Want it,” She breathes, voice breaking, and Paige lets her eyes fall shut for a brief moment so she can soak in the sound of her pleas. Her wrist works overtime to keep her fingers in motion inside of her, and her tongue swirls around her clit, soaking in the metallic taste of the puffy little button as she continues to tease at it.

“Need it- fuck, please? Want you to fill me up,” She begs, and Paige takes a deep breath from between her legs, nostrils flaring slightly as she attempts to ground herself while she kisses into the younger girls’ cunt sloppily, lips and chin covered in her arousal. It’s almost too good to bring her mouth away from.

“Okay, sweet girl,” She mutters before letting her tongue drag along her slit, the slickness making the motion easy.

“Gonna fuck you so good,” She promises, pressing a kiss to her clit before standing. She places one knee on the mattress, bringing her hand up to rub at the other girls' thigh affectionately.

"Scooch up, mama. Gimme some room to work here," She murmurs gently, and Azzi complies, her eyes never leaving the blonde's face, bringing her hands to the mattress and pushing herself back.

The blonde follows immediately, crawling toward her and dropping a kiss to the scar over her knee as she approaches before sitting up straight. She adjusts the width of her knees where they’re pressed into the bed as she settles into the best position she can manage, reaching down to grasp the base of the toy where it juts out into the small amount of space between them.

Azzi’s eyes watch carefully as she reaches out, running her pointer and middle fingers through her folds to gather wetness before spreading it over the toy. She watches Paige’s fingers as they run along the length of the toy, coating it in her slick, and swallows, suddenly starting to realize that the toy looked a little bit bigger than she had remembered it being.

To distract herself, she forces her eyes higher, takes in the sight of the girl between her legs- abs tight, pert breasts and puffy pink nipples on display, loose blonde hair framing her face and a concentrated look painted across her features that was absolutely entrancing.

Paige takes hold of the toy and shuffles closer until she can run the tip through her folds, and Azzi’s breath catches at the contact. The older girl wets her parted lips as she stares, revelling in the way the younger girls’ slick spreads along the silicon, allowing the shaft move easily up and down her slit from entrance to clit.

Azzi's breath is shaky beneath her, pretty brown eyes blown as she watches every movement eagerly. She lets the toy nudge against her entrance, admiring how her pussy clenches a kiss around the head at the intrusion, and Azzi whines up at her, expression pleading silently for her to progress- so she rocks forward, slow, eyes on the younger girls’ face to gauge off of.

A little gasp falls from Azzi’s mouth as her eyes fall shut, head pushing back against the pillows as she draws her bottom lip between her teeth. Paige’s tongue peeks out of her mouth, pressing against her bottom lip with the effort as she presses in further, torturously slow as she eases her hips flush with Azzi’s.

Azzi moans as she bottoms out, her fingers grabbing ahold of Paige’s arm where it’s braced against her leg to improve the angle.

She lets her hand linger there in a loose grip, holding on to her for the sake of touching her alone, watching the other girl admire her, feeling her muscles move beneath her skin with every motion. Paige’s hips rock back, eyes watching the toy slide out of her entrance before she eases forward again, starting to find a rhythm.

“Oh, fuck, that’s good,” Azzi slurs, drawing a smirk out of Paige.

“Yeah? You like that, mama?” She asks, voice low and raspy as she pumps in and out of her, eyes roaming over the other girls’ body hungrily. The younger girl nods, eyebrows drawn together and face tight as she concentrates on adjusting to the stretch, painted fingernails digging into Paige’s arm just barely as a whimper escapes past her lips.

Paige gambles a look down as her pace gradually picks up, and watches as the strap slides in and out of the girl above her in time with her strokes. She swallows hard, sucking in a steadying breath as she watches her pussy stretch around the toy, excess wetness accumulating in a thick ring around the base of the toy.

Eager to see more, she snakes her dominant hand between them, using her pointer finger and thumb to hold her lips apart so she can get a better look at the toy pumping in and out of her, pussy pulsing and stretching around the silicon cock. She presses her thumb to her clit, rubbing tight circles as she picks up her pace gradually.

“Fuck, mama- squeezin’ my dick so pretty w’that pussy. You like it when I stretch you out, baby?”

“Ohmygod, yes,” Azzi rushes out, barely coherent, and Paige watches as she takes it, moving with her to set the pace, hips chanting and abs tight.

“Yeah? Feels good, don't it princess? Y’feelin me deep?” Azzi hums out a pathetic little mhm, whimpering, and she can't help herself- she reaches out, running her hand up her stomach, squeezing at her tits when she gets to her chest, palming them and feeling the weight of them in her hand.

She groans, letting her head kick back. She could feel their combined wetness smearing all over her pelvis and the front of her thighs now, and the realization hits like a drug. Azzi’s hand comes to meet hers over her chest, not to stop anything she’s doing, just for the sake of being able to hold onto her- and Paige shifts, bringing one knee up to better her angle, pausing as she pivots, and then presses forward again.

Azzi groans at the new angle, her hips canting up to chase the motion and pushing Paige deeper, in turn drawing a whine from the blonde’s throat when the base of the toy pushes against her clit.

“Oh, fuck,” Azzi whimpers, spurred on by the knowledge of what fucking her like this is doing to the blonde. Obscene sounds fill the room- Azzi’s cunt squelching around the silicon cock, breathy moans falling from both of the pairs’ lips, the sound of their combined slick over the already prominent sound of skin meeting skin with each thrust from Paige.

It’s filthy, the way they’re rutting into each other, but god, did both of them need this.

Azzi arches her back, taking their joined hands and pushing them lower, and at first Paige isn’t sure what she’s doing, thinks maybe she’s ushering her to stimulate her clit again, but then she stops short, right above her pelvis. Her confusion quickly gives way to recognition, and she almost chokes when she feels it- she’s fucking up into the younger girl so deep that she can feel it perfectly just by having her hand braced over her stomach.

“Oh, baby- fuck,” Her hips stutter, overwhelmed between feeling how deep she’s fucking into Azzi and the sensation of the base of the strap rubbing against her clit. Azzi shifts, hooking her legs around her waist, and Paige leans further forward, bracing herself with her elbows against the mattress, body pressed to Azzi’s as she continues the snap of her hips.

Azzi’s moans are even clearer now- right there to lean over and swallow up with a kiss, so she does, connecting their lips as she rolls her hips fervently. It’s wet and messy and desperate, both of them moaning into it, and for a moment, the sheer desperation shared between the two of them is enough to carry it, both rutting into each other like it was their last moment on earth.

Azzi’s head kicks back when Paige draws in particularly hard, the blonde’s bottom lip dragging against the side of her face when she breaks away from the kiss to shift so suddenly. Her legs wrap around her tighter, arms slung around her back with one hand tangled into the bun barely still in place on her head and the other digging half-moons into her shoulder as she fucks her open.

“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod,” She babbles, and Paige curses under her breath, shifting her weight from one arm to the other to sustain the rocking of her hips.

She’s absolutely stoned on the sounds she’s drawing out of her lips- so committed to making her make more of them that the tiredness settling into her body is barely even noticeable. Azzi’s breaths get shallow and run together, little noises escaping her lips with every thrust, her hips and hands unable to stay still as she grasps for Paige like she’s not as close as physically possible already.

“Paige, I’m- oh fuck,” Her voice breaks, and the sheer amount of desperation in her tone is enough for Paige to be sure of what’s happening.

“Gonna cum for me, baby?” She asks, and Azzi just nods, incapable of mustering any response beyond that in a coherent manner. Paige nods, pressing a kiss to the side of Azzi’s face, and braces herself to shift her weight on one arm, letting the other reach between them and find her clit.

The angle’s awkward and she knows she wouldn’t be able to keep it up for long- but she also knows Azzi doesn’t need much more, just wants her to feel good as she goes over the edge.

“Show me, princess. Wanna see you cum on this dick, pretty girl,” She whispers, and Azzi whimpers, nails digging into her back as she arches her back, impossibly close. Paige’s heart is nearly beating through her chest, and she’s trying embarrassingly hard not to let on how she’s pretty sure she could cum, too, trying to focus on getting Azzi there.

“C’mon, mama. Doin’ so good, so pretty for me. Let me have it, sweet girl,” She coos. Azzi nods desperately, shaky breaths heaving from her lungs as she chases the edge.

"Don't stop, don't stop," She pleads, and Paige hums, acknowledging the request as she presses a kiss to her face again, back tense as her hips roll into her at a pace she has no earthly idea how she had possibly kept up this long aside from pure obsession and a desperation to make her girl feel good.

"Never, baby. I gotchu, you're okay. Let go for me," She urges, and Azzi purses her lips, eyes fluttering shut and dimples popping as she tips over the edge of her climax.

Her head pushes back against the pillow and her eyes eyes screw shut, legs tightening even further around Paige's waist. A guttural moan escapes from her throat and for once, she doesn't even care how loud she is.

Her breaths draw deeper as she shudders through the remainder of her orgasm, little spasms of pleasure washing over her body, and Paige nuzzles close, dropping soft kisses to her shoulders as she slows her efforts. Beneath her, Azzi finally relaxes, body slumping against the mattress and her head lolling to the side to rest against Paige's forearm where it's pressed into the mattress supporting her weight.

Her hand comes down and entangles with Paige’s where it’s working her clit slowly, wincing as she pulls it away. “Too much,” She whimpers, and Paige chuckles airily, nodding.

“Okay, babygirl,” She replies, keeping the younger girls’ fingers intertwined with her own as she rests her hand on her waist.

“You good if I pull out?” She asks, and Azzi nods slowly, a hint of hesitation in her eyes. “But… slow, okay?” She asks, voice small, and Paige swears she almost melts at the expression on her face.

“‘Course, baby. I’ll be gentle, I promise,” She assures, pressing a kiss to the shorter girls’ forehead before starting to ease the toy out.

“You okay?” She asks, giving the other girl a distraction as she works herself out from inside of her. Azzi nods, her fingers fidgeting lightly with Paige’s where their hands were intertwined.

“Yeah, I’m good,” She nods, her chest still heaving big breaths. She winces when Paige eases the toy the rest of the way out, but Paige is quick to soothe, pressing kisses to her shoulders as she leans further down.

"Good job, baby. Did so good f'me," She praises, and Azzi soaks it in. Paige sits up again, pulling at the buckles of the strap to try and get it to loosen enough to slide out of, and Azzi can’t help but giggle.

“Come here, dummy,” She teases, leaning forward to reach her. Paige obliges her request, picking up her hands so she has space to work, watching as she manages to release all the cinched down straps in the amount of time it had taken her to figure out which direction was tightening or loosening the device.

“I dunno how you do that, but you amaze me, f’real,” Paige mutters, a dopey grin on her face as she looks at the other girl, and Azzi rolls her eyes, a grin creeping across her face.

“You’re so dumb,” She dismisses, lovesick expression on her face despite her words as she pulled the excess of the straps taut, making it easier for Paige to slip out of them. She does, and once she pulls it off, she immediately discards the contraption onto the floor to deal with later.

Azzi chuckles at the thud it made against the ground, pulling Paige close, reveling in the feeling of the warmth of her skin against her own. She let her hands start to roam, fingers exploring expanses of soft skin that only she got to touch like this.

“You’re so perfect,” She whispers to the blonde, and Paige chuckles, a light flush spreading across her chest. Her hand settles on her waist, holding her close, while she lays on her back, one hand slung behind her head.

“You think so?” She asks, and Azzi nods, bringing her lips to drop kisses along her shoulders.

“Definitely,” She confirms, lips brushing against her collarbones. “Good strap game, too. I don’t think you have anything to worry about, after all,” She says, and Paige can’t help but laugh.

“Thank you, baby. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” The blonde replies, running her hand up Azzi’s bare waist affectionately.

“Mmm, I definitely did,” The younger girl whispers, her lips trailing up her neck, teasing a path to that one spot behind her ear that always seemed to drive her crazy.

“Now I think it’s my turn to make sure you enjoy yourself, hm?”

For once, Paige has no argument.

a/n: Thank you guys for reading and thank you again for your patience while I finished this, seriously! Comments and reposts are appreciated, remember to let me know if you'd like to be included in taglists in the future!

Disclaimer: Sorry for the robbery at the end, I really intended to include that scene but I was already at 9k words so I decided to just wrap it up. If y'all want a second part or smth, lmk!

[arc-misadventures]

What Are You Doing Here?

A thin. twig of a man was walking the streets of, Mantle. A grey hood covered his head as he tried to remain unseen. He was here on a mission, a very important mission. One that if he was caught would cause untold amount of suffering, and damage. But, he would be willing to fight to complete his mission. And, nothing was going to stop him!

Except for a six foot six, blond hair specialist grabbing him by the back of his hoodie holding him aloft as he hopelessly kicked his feet in the air.

: GRAHH?! Let go of me go!

: Only if you explain what you're doing here?

: I-It doesn't concern you, Jaune!

Jaune Arc, on another one of his patrols in, Mantle after the ballot boxes were delivered to another community halls for the upcoming vote. But, his patrol was brought to an abrupt detour when he stumbled upon a most unexpected sight.

The sole male heir of the, Schnee family. Whitely Schnee out on a leisurely stroll.

Jaune: Doesn't concern me?! Oh yeah, Winter's gonna love the fact I told her: 'Hey, Winter I saw your little brother down in, Mantle! I don't know what he was doing, I just left him alone!'

Jaune: Do you have any idea what she would do to me if I told her that, Whit?!

Whitely: Then don't tell her!

Jaune: Are you trying to get me killed?!

Whitely: This doesn't concern you! Let me go!

Jaune: Whitely... Tell me what's happening, or I'll tell, Willow you're down here...

Whitely stopped struggling in, Jaune's grasp, his whole body going limp as he comprehended his threat.

Whitely: Okay... Okay, I'll tell you why I'm here. But, please... don't tell my mom...

Jaune: Smart lad.

Jaune dropped, Whitely who straightened out his clothes before turning to face, Jaune keeping his hoodie over his head to hid his identity, and his highly recognizable heir from any passers by.

Whitely: I'm here, because I am going to a rally that's being held today.

Jaune: A rally? One of the political rallies?

Whitely: Y-Yeah...

Jaune: Who's rally? The election is in a two days, there's five rally's happening right now. Who are you making your way to, Whit?

Whitely: ...

Whitely: I'm... I'm heading to, Robyn Hill's rally...

Jaune: Robyn Hill?! Why the hell are you going there?

Whitely: I-I have my reasons...

Jaune: You better tell me, because seriously, Whit... I can think of many reasons for why you wouldn't go there, but I can't think of a single reason why you would want to go there.

Whitely: Oh yeah?! What reasons could you think of!

Jaune: You're, Jacques Schnee's son, you're the heir to the Schnee Dust Company, and it's fortune. You're part of the uppermost class of the, Atlasian Elite, so why are you of all people, even associating with the 'lower class.'

Whitely: You know I'm nothing like my father! And, while the others are true... B-But, I don't think I'm better than everyone else!

Jaune: Just richer than them?

Whitely: Okay... t-that's... that's a fact. You can't use that against me!

Jaune: Yes, I can, and will.

Whitely: Okay, I know it may seem that I don't care for the 'common folk,' but Mom, and I are trying to make things better for people. Higher wages, better medical, dental, family, and a slew of other benefits! We're becoming less of a monopoly! We're doing so many things that is helping all of, Atlas, and Mantle!

Jaune: Yes, you told me that when I was over for dinner with you, and Willow the other day. And, that's all well, and good, but why are you going to one of, Robyn's Hill's rally?

Whitely: I'm not going to tell you anything!

Whitely stared defiantly at, Jaune. His stance solid, and defiant to the world, and the threat a seasoned, Specialist could offer to an auraless civilian. But, Jaune would teach him the futility of his defiance.

Jaune pulled out his scroll, and hit a few buttons, and hold it in front of, Whitely, his finger hovering over a button.

Jaune: You tell me why you're going to a rally for, Robyn Hill right now, or I swear I'll call your sister here right now.

Whitely: You think I'm scared of, Weiss?!

Jaune: Who said I was going to call, Weiss?

Whitely: ...?!

Whitely: Y-You wouldn't... You wouldn't dare...?

Jaune: Whit... the question you should be asking isn't whether, or not I'll do it. But, how fast, Winter will get down here to pick you up.

Whitely's eyes bugged out as he dry swallowed as he took in the essence of, Jaune's threat.

Whitely: ...

Whitely: I-I... I'm... I'm going to...

Jaune: Going to what?

Whitely: I'mgoingto,RobynHill'srallytoseemycrush!

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Beg pardon?

Whitely: I'm going to, Robyn Hill's rally to see my crush...

Jaune: You're crush... You have a crush...?

Jaune: It better not be, Robyn Hill, because she's claimed me...

Whitely: What, no It's not her...? Wait, I thought, Winter claimed you?

Jaune: I'm stuck between a love triangle that the two of them will fight tooth, and nail over who gets to have me.

Whitely: Okay...?

Jaune: If it's not, Robyn then who is it?

Whitely: I-I'll tell you who it is... but, only if you take me there to see her!

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Okay... but we're going to get you a took first. You look like a hoodlum looking like that.

Whitely: I'm not a hoodlum!

Jaune: That's a shame, you'd have more personality if you were...

Whitely: Hey!

~~~

Now the pair were at, Robyn Hill's rally the last one being held before the election. Whitely now had a nice burnt red took on his head, hiding his easily identifiable snow white hair.

Jaune was keeping his eye's on, Whitely, waiting for him to react to anything, or more importantly who was the one, Whitely had a crush on. And, the way he watched, Whitely's body stiffen, and his breath left him, and the way his cheeks became red. He knew who ever they were had appeared. And, he was most surprised for who it was,

Jaune: Wait... Fiona... Fiona Thyme?! That's your secret crush?!

Whitely: SHHHH! Don't say that out loud!

Jaune: Okay... I have so many questions... But, first off... she's twenty four, Fiona's at lease a decade older than you.

Whitely: What? I'm not fourteen, I'm seventeen years old, Jaune!

Jaune: ...

Jaune's eyes blink in bewilderment as he looked at, Whitely. Jaune proceed to grab, Whitely by the scuff of, Whitely's hoodie, and lifted him up into the air with one hand. Jaune held out his arm straight, and shook, Whitely in the air, watching his feet dangle effortlessly in the air before setting him down.

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Okay... We're changing your diet: More meats, and more protein, as well as getting you on a exercise regime. We need to put more meat on you, cause otherwise people will think you're a legal shouta.

Whitely: ...

Whitely: Okay...

Whitely: But, what about you! Winter's twenty five years old! And, you're...

Jaune: Nineteen.

Whitely: Nineteen! That's a six year difference!

Jaune: Compared to a seven year difference... No... Okay, look... It's not that bad, but it's not that good either. I just thought you were younger then you actually are. Seriously, we need to put some meat on your chicken legs.

Whitely: Shut up...

Jaune: But, why do you like her? I mean... You like, Fiona? I thought you didn't like faunas, she's a sheep faunas.

Whitely: I didn't... N-Not anymore... That was just my father's influence, I'm not like that anymore. I just saw her from a distance, and... I just fell for her... I think she's beautiful.

Jaune: Love at first sight...?

Whitely: Y-Yeah... you could say that...

Jaune: Oh gods...

Jaune: Have you talked to her?

Whitely: N-No... She's a, Huntress, a Happy Huntress, and a faunas. And, I'm...

Jaune: Whitely Schnee... son of the enemy of all faunas... Jacques Schnee...?

Whitely: Yeah...

Jaune: Damn... The decks already stacked against you, and you're not even at the table...

Whitely: She'd probably spit in my face just walking over to her.

Jaune: Give her some credit, Whit. Fiona's not like that, if you were an ass she'd punch you in the face. She's too classy to spit in your face.

Whitely: H-How do you know that... H-Have you talked to her?!

Jaune: A few times.

Whitely: Can you introduce me to her?!

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Haaa...

Jaune: Please don't make me regret doing this, Whit...

Whitely: Yes! Thank you big bro!

Jaune: Don't you call me that!

Whitely: Sorry...

~~~

Robyn: Hello, Specialist Arc... What brings you here this day, General Ironwood send you to complain about my running for election again.

Jaune: Drop the act, Robyn. Whit knows that I'm the prize in your competition thingy against, Winter.

Robyn: Oh... wait, who is that, Whit fellow?

Jaune: Just a friend I'm wingmanning for...

Robyn: Okay...? And, this, Whit fellow... has a thing for, Fiona...?

Jaune: Yeah, it's a love of first sight, kind of thing...

Robyn: Seriously...?

Jaune: It's also the first crush for the kid... teenager...Give him some slack, okay?

Robyn: Why are you doing this?

Jaune: ...

Jaune: I'm a romantic?

Robyn: You don't sound so sure about that...

Jaune: I've somehow managed to snagged three extremely hot badass warrior babes by being myself; I'm not sure about a lot of things!

Robyn: Three... Is there another woman I should be worried about?

Jaune: No. She's dead...

Robyn: Oh... I-I'm sorry, Jaune. I didn't mean...

Jaune: Stop, I would prefer not to talk about it. Let's just watch, Whit, and see how he'll do.

Robyn: O-Okay...

~~~

Walking up to, Fiona Thyme, Whitely was having a panic attack in his head. He was a seventeen year old kid, talking with his first crush, who happened to by a, Happy Huntress, and a faunas. He was the enemy of everything she no doubt stood for, because of his fathering was, Jacques Schnee.

But, like, Jaune told him: "You'll regret not telling her more than you will be for putting your foot in your mouth."

He just hopped he wouldn't put his foot so deep in his mouth.

~~~

Whitely: H-Hi!

Fiona stopped to looked at the kid standing before her, an inch smaller than her. He wore a a grey hoodie, and grey blue jeans, black sneakers, and a burnt red took. Fiona thought this... civilian looked nice, her certainly had nice icy blue eyes, but why is he talking to her, Robyn was right there after all?

Fiona: Hello...?

Whitely: Hi! Uhhh...? M-My name is...

Whitely's eyes darted around nervously, if he introduced himself as who he pretending to be, Whit, she'd probably ignore him. But, if he suddenly popped it on her that he was actually, Whitely Schnee, like he was embarrassed to be seen with her, because who he was. Fiona would probably, rightfully so, deck him in the face.

Whitely: My name is, Whitely... Whitely Schnee...

Whitely pulled off his burnt red took, showing off his snow white hair. He gave, Fiona a nervous smile, meanwhile, Fiona was staring at him wild eyed. Fiona's voice escaped her as her mind struggled to comprehend what it was standing before her.

Robyn: Wait, hold on...?! That's, Whitely Schnee?!

Jaune: Yes, and quiet!

Fiona: Whitely Schnee... Son of, Jacques Schnee...?

Whitely: Y-Yeah... That's me...

Fiona: Okay... W-What are you doing down here...?

Whitely: Down here in, Mantle? Did you not expect someone like me to be here?

Fiona: Uhh... yeah... For several reasons that.

Whitely: W-What reasons?

Fiona: You're, Whitely Schnee, son of, Jacques Schnee...

Whitely: That I am......

Fiona: What's a rich boy doing down her in the slums?

Whitely: This...? There are no slums in, Mantle?

Fiona: And, why are you an, faunas racist talking to a faunas?

Whitely: ...

Jaune: Oh shit...

Robyn: Wait... you said, wingmanning... Does, Whitely...?!

Whitely: I... I may have had such opinions... But, they weren't solely baseless, and my idea...

Fiona: Baseless? What do you mean by that?

Whitely: My father was the enemy of all faunas... And, he made faunas his enemy, blamed them for a lot of his problems, and he even forced a lot of these problems he caused on them. So, I can understand their hate for me, and my father. And, I can understand why they all think that I'm a carbon copy of my father. But, I'm not my father!

Fiona: And, why do you say that?

Whitely: I did agree with my father, and his opinions of faunas. Not all faunas, just those of the, White Fang...

Fiona: The White Fang?

Whitely: You probably heard how they were 'freedom fighters,' fighting for faunas rights... You tell me to believe that is the truth when your mother's shielding your eyes so you don't see the dismembered body of your cousin. You didn't see your father absolutely loose it when one of the dust shipments got attacked by the, White Fang, and he took out his anger on your mother...

Whitely: I don't hate the faunas, Fiona. I hate the, White Fang, because of what they did to me, and my family... My father... Jacques would hate you for being a faunas. Me...? I'm... I'm not my father. Like he would ever have a crush on a cute sheep faunas anyway...

Fiona looked at, Whitely. She was feeling down, she was judging him based on his linage, often something others did to her because she was a faunas. He couldn't control being, Jacques Schnee's son, but he did control who he choose to become. Besides, it's like he said: It's not like, Jacques Schnee would ever have a crush on a cute sheep...?!

Fiona: W-W-Wait?! 'A crush on a cute sheep faunas?!' Do you have a crush on me?!

Whitely: AHH?! Oh shit... I didn't mean to tell you that?!

Robyn: Holy shit?!

May: The, Schnee kid has a crush on, Fiona?!

Joanna: And, is, Fiona blushing?!

Jaune: Well this isn't how you'd want things to go... but, I did worse, so...?

Fiona: YOU DO?!

Whitely: I snuck into one of, Robyn Hill's political rallies, and saw you! And, I fell for you the moment I laid my eyes upon you!

Fiona: Love at first sight?!

Jaune: Going for broke eh, Whit?

Robyn: Somebody please tell me you're recording this?!

Joanna: From the moment I came here!

May: I've been taking photos!

Whitely: S-So, Fiona Thyme! Will you please go out with me?!

Fiona: O-O-Oh... W-Well... I'm too old for you... I mean, a thirteen year old going out with a twenty three year old... That's...?

Whitely: Seventeen!

Fiona: W-What?

Whitely: I'm seventeen years old... Jaune's going to put me on an excursive regium, and a new diet to bulk up so I stop looking like... like a kid... S-So, it's just a six year difference... So, c-could we...?

Fiona: ...

Fiona: D-Do you want to go on a date now...? Cause... I'm going to be busy the next few days... election stuff... So, I don't know if I'll be able to...

Whitely: Yes!

Fiona: Eep?!

Whitely: Sorry, I meant to say, yes.

Fiona: That's great!

Whitely: But, uhh... I don't know any of the restaurants around here... How about you take us to a nice one, where we can chat, and get to know one another better. My treat.

Fiona: I'd like that. Come on, Whitely.

Whitely: J-Just call me, Whit. Otherwise people might...

Fiona: Okay, Whit.

Fiona waited by the door as, Whitely put on his took, and ran up to, Fiona. the pair had matching smiles, and small blushes on their faces as they left on their date.

From the distance the group of, Huntresses, and the Specialist all cooed from the corner as they watched them leave together.

Robyn: Wow... out of all the things I expected today... Whitely Schnee asking, Fiona on a date, and her accepting it is the last thing I'd ever expected.

May: But, they look so cute together! Especially with, Fiona being just one inch taller than him!

Jaune: May, I'm going to need those photos, and that video, Joanna. Evidence for... for things...

Joanna: You got it!

Jaune: Hahaha! Willow's gonna love this!

Robyn: Hey, Jaune? How come you've never taken me out on a date before?

Jaune: Because, I'm too busy to go on a date with any of you! Winter's too busy going on a date with, because she's busy being a, Specialist. You're too busy being a politician to go on a date, Robyn. And, I'm too busy being playing both sides to get you elected, and manipulating, General Ironwood to get what needs to be done! Which is dragging everyone away from his stupid project, that if he finds out what I've done, he'll probably shoot me for treason!

May: Y-Your kidding, right...?

Jaune: No. No I am not.

Robyn, and her, Happy Huntresses all looked at, Jaune, and took in the dead seriousness in his eyes. Robyn placed her hand on him, activating her semblance showing it off in a vibrant green hue.

Joanna: Holy shit, he's telling the truth...

Jaune: Oi?!

(Slap!)

Robyn: Ow!

Jaune: None of that!

Robyn: How mean... How could you do that to such a delicate maiden~?

Jaune: If you used your semblances on yourself it would be as red as blood for saying that.

Robyn: Hey!

Jaune: Alright, I need to go back, my shift is almost over, and I need to file in a report. I'll see you later ladies.

May: Bye, Jaune.

Joanna: See you later, Jaune.

Jaune: Oh, before I go... Robyn?

Robyn: Yea... MPHH?!

Jaune grabbed, Robyn's chin, and pulled her in for a kiss. He pushed his lips upon her, causing, Robyn to moan deeply within her throat, causing her to gasp for air as he broke their kiss.

Jaune: Consider that an IOU for a real date.

Robyn: O-Okay...

Jaune: Well then, till later then, my Lady.

Jaune turned, and left the, Happy Huntresses 'secret' base. Leaving a panting, and blush stricken, Robyn with a hand upon her chest as she watched her, Knight leave.

Robyn: Oh gods~!

May: Oh shit... she's got it bad...

Joanna: She's got it really bad!

May: It's fucking adorable.

Joanna: So adorable.

~~~

One of the back doors to the, Schnee manor slowly opened, and closed as a skinny twig snuck it's way inside. It stealthily made it's way to a room in the house. As it reached the door to the room, it quietly opened the door, before slowly shutting it behind him. A tired sigh with a hint of joy escaped his lips. He turned on the lights to the room, turned around, and screamed.

: AHHHHHH?!?!

: Hello, Whitely...

Whitely: M-Mom?! What are you doing in my room?!

Willow: The better question is; Why are you home so late?

Whitely: Wha... I'm not late...

Willow: It's, 3:32 am...

Whitely: T-That's not so late...

Willow: Whitely you've complained that it's too late, and you need to head to bed at 9 pm. You have never once stay out so late before. So, where were you?

Whitely: I-I-I was out... w-with friends...

Willow: You don't have any friends.

Whitely: I just recently met them...

Willow: And, you were hanging out with these friends of yours... so late because...?

Whitely: W-We were just having so much fun we lost track of time...

Willow: And, did you have 'fun' with this friend?

Whitely: We just talked, we didn't do anything... uncouth...

Willow: But, would you have if you could?

Whitely: It was a first date, you don't do anything like that until the third...

Willow: So it was a date~?

Whitely: Grkk?!

Willow: So tell me, who was it that you were on this date with?

Whitely: I-I don't have to tell you anything!

Willow: Whitely... I am your mother, you will tell me about this sheep girl you were seeing...

Whitely: Wha... how did you know she was a sheep faunas?!

Willow: Because, Jaune told me.

Whitely: That traitor! Why did he tell you?!

Willow: Because you took so long, and for the record, Jaune didn't actually tell me.

Whitely: He didn't, then who did?

: I did.

Whitely: AHHHH?!

The chair to, Whitely's desk turned around to show a very irate Winter Schnee staring back at him.

Whitely: W-W-Winter?! When did you get here?!

Winter: Oh, a while after mother told me you weren't home. And, a few minutes after I interrogated, Jaune about who you were with. So, tell me, Whitely... Why were you on a date with, Fiona Thyme. A member of the, Happy Huntresses?

Whitely: I-I-I...?! I can explain!

Willow: I always knew you liked lamb, but to like it in such a manner~?

Whitely: I-I don't like it in that manner... Well, Fiona is...I don't mean!

Winter: Start talking, Whitely...

Willow: Yes, mother want's to hear everything about your little date~!

Whitely: Ohhhhh...!

Whitely: Shit...

[silentsuffering]

Sometimes I wonder if this is true for me and my ex partner. But then I remember how softly he loved me and how severely he broke down when a third party got involved in our relationship, creating problems with her at the center and persuading us both that we each other are at the center of them with conflicting information and playing the victim.

We hurt each other SO much over crap an outsider told us. Instead of being a team and fighting together against her. I was hurt by him that way. And people try to tell me he's a bad person for it. But you know what? I think it's hypocritical and toxic that when I go to help-spaces I get bombarded with this. I did this to him as well. "Yes, but you recognized it and tried to fix it and he didn't" is the standard answer I get, when I point that out. And you know what? That's infuriating. Of course he didn't. He was manipulated. He was subjected to intense psychological abuse and gaslighting, just as much as me. He's a victim to that and it's not his fault and he's not a bad person for the fact that it's so intense that he struggles to see through it. Why on earth is it so hard for people to address the real problem? A woman who abused two people and with the goal to destroy their relationship out of jealousy? How is that his fault? People tell me it's "a tale as old as time" - yes well, he never cheated on me and never got together with her after we broke up. They're still friends, because she has him in her grasp and made me the scapegoat. She's a narcissist. That's a normal thing for a narcissistic abuser to do. Why can't I get help anywhere, when my situation is: Me and my man were abused by a woman? Why is everyone trying to villainize my ex partner to me? How is that helpful at all for my situation or in any way better than that woman villainizing me to him?

And these are structural issues. This happens. This is a real big problem. I have real mental health issues as the consequence to real abuse. So does he probably. But already while it was happening and I was looking for help to stop it, I couldn't find it anywhere. I only found blame for my partner. Which amplified the methodic gaslighting my abuser practiced to make me believe my partner had bad intentions for me. It was not helpful. It was harmful. I encountered that in so many self-proclaimed safe spaces and spaces that deal with narcissistic abuse. And I'm just so tired. I feel like I'm on the run since a year. I can't find a place to settle down and tell my story where it will simply be accepted for what it is, without people trying to rewrite the reality of my experience in some way to blame the "evil man".

He's autistic. He's struggling with schizophrenia. He's had a rough childhood. He's been gentle and vulnerable due to his conditions. And somebody took advantage of all that. Somebody took advantage of a disabled person. Just as that same person did with me.

So my ex partner and me were equals in a situation where both he and I fell victim to a person with bad intentions. My ex partner did not somehow automatically turned evil when we had problems in our relationship happening or broke up. I had just as much and as little part in that as he and most of it was caused by a much bigger issue, an abuser.

Obviously this doesn't go for all people. It has nothing to do with this post and it hasn't wronged me, nor has anyone connected to it. But it upsets me that sometimes I wonder about this, because SO much gaslighting has happened, not only by my abuser, but it's been amplified by places and people I turned to for help. And I'm so exhausted from that.

“It wasn't love, just heavy manipulation.”

— r.h. Sin

[slightly-knot-insane]

Centaur Riding Class (part 1)

Monstertober 2024 - day 28 [ Greek Mythology ] by @/ozzgin

[ centaur x fem!reader ]

a/n: this is a mini choose your own adventure fic! please vote in the end, let's see who will you end up with :3 content: sfw

Your dear friend insisted on getting some horse-riding lessons. It will be fun, she said. It will occupy your mind, she insisted. And god knows you needed some distraction after that nasty break-up.

What you didn't expect was a centaur riding school. And it's a huge fancy place with massive centaur-oriented houses, porches and pools, and large fields everywhere.

"Don't worry, it's a special place," she winks. You are now not only suspicious but alarmed. Where did she bring you to? As you enter the estate, you notice that both people and centaurs are wearing bathing suits. Wait. No, those are... underwear? And some have nothing at all!

"They are naked!" Your friend clicks with her tongue and pushes you further and into the biggest building, telling you to shut up and stop worrying.

As you enter, you're greeted with a beautiful mare. No, no, they are not mares, they are women! You remember your other friend who dated a centaur told you that centaur folk don't like being called mares and stallions. It's kinda offensive... until you get to bed them. Then it's, apparently, a big turn-on. Do centaurs even have beds?

"Hey!" Your friend snaps her fingers in front of your face. "Stop daydreaming and tell madam what are your preferences."

"Madam? Preferences?"

The lady centaur in front of you delightfully giggles, her long horse legs crossing each other in a rather human-looking way. "So this is your first time in our fine establishment." It wasn't a question.

"I would love to treat her with some free classes." A very handsome stall... I mean, centaur man leans against the wall, eyeing you with a smirk. His black hair and skin are so beautiful and shiny. He must be oiled with something, nobody can glisten like that. He wears a rather posh shirt and vest but they cling to his body like a second skin. You hope nobody noticed you wiping off your drool.

"Oh, our best mentor offers his services?" The madam rolls her eyes playfully. "I thought you weren't interested in any more work today."

"Well..." He flashes a quick smile and his eyes meet yours. "I am now."

"What a schmoozer, oh dear, oh dear, I'm gonna faint!" A muscular female centaur enters the room wiping her neck with a towel while feigning awe. She's only wearing a sports bra, and her exposed abs are covered in sweat. And soon you are. She sticks her tongue out at the male centaur. "Be direct and say that she's super cute and want to mentor her - like I do." She winks and her smile lights up her whole face so that her bright red hair looks like fire.

"I thought you will go home after gym?" Madam asks her and crosses her arms.

"That's true. But if our new visitor decides she wants to give me a chance, I'll take a quick shower and show her some useful moves." Is she flirting with you too?

"Now who's a schmoozer?" The man shakes his head.

Madam looks at you and smiles a graceful elven smile. Can centaurs be elves, too? "Well, these two are our most excellent mentors. I warmly recommend their services and experience. And since they are quite interested, I guess your first time will be on the house. Who will it be?"

[ part 2 ]

[zerocoded]

summary: when caleb appears at your front door on a random thursday night after faking his death for weeks, you can't help but want to punch him straight in the knees. lucky for you, you do just that.

authors note: again, i'm in search of the author of this drawing so i can properly credit so pls let me know if you've seen this before. ANYWAYS, the caleb post i've been daydreaming about the last two days is finally here. CALEB GIRLIES I GOT YOU. let's hold each other's hands until the 22nd comes. i hope i succeed in portraying a real mc bc i'm tired of seeing us being just happy when seeing caleb for the first time when BRO DECEIVED US and played with our emotions like that. without further bs, live laugh love caleb.

warnings: SLIGHT yandere!caleb • gaslighting and manipulation • sfw content • bad writing lol, be warned! • depressive thoughts • reader is on her grieving period • work exhaustion • mental illness mentioned • minor injury • manhandling and pining • height & size difference • caleb literally invades our home • fighting bc reader is a badass and tolerates no bitches • mc bites caleb's hands lol • others LI mentioned • one kissy scene hehe • caleb screams at mc once (boo) • ANGST Y'ALL!

word count: 6.1k

your apartment was silent, except for the faint hum of the city outside. tossing your jacket onto the back of the couch, you leaned against the wall, exhaling shakily. the weight of the day pressed down on you like a vice, your fingers brushing the edge of the message from linkon city hall still lying unopened on the counter.

confirmation of deceased: caleb. adoptive grandmother, dr. josephine. cause of death: explosion – classified incident.

you hadn’t needed to open it. the words were already carved into your memory, and the weight of them had crushed you all day. it didn’t matter that the explosion was months ago—seeing their names on an official report felt like losing them all over again.

you pushed away from the counter, willing your mind to focus on anything else. the hunter uniform hugged your frame perfectly, as it always had, and your reflection in the glass windows of your living room showed how tired you looked.

did anyone notice how wrecked you felt? you wondered if tara had gossiped to the other hunters about your predicament, and if she had left you alone because she somehow understood the weight of what had happened to you.

the message was awful. being asked to confirm the deaths of your loved ones had thrown you into a depressive spiral you hadn’t felt in days after returning from the N109 zone. your troublesome heart sometimes made you feel like you shouldn’t have even been born. when you trauma-dumped this on rafayel a few days ago, he had almost hit you with his paint brush, the words coming out of your mouth too much for him to process. the painter was pissed that you could think of yourself like that.

but that was how you felt—unworthy of being alive, because the person who raised you had been brutally killed.

why not me? you wondered.

linkon city was adorned with shiny skyscrapers, and your privileged view of the city made you feel even smaller, your grievance nothing more than a joke to the world outside of your apartment. knowing you’d have to show up to work again tomorrow added to the weight pressing down on your shoulders from choosing to be a deepspace hunter.

these last few weeks, you had questioned why you chose this job in the first place. since coming back from onychinus and befriending sylus of all people, you’d been thinking about your life decisions more frequently. sylus made you question every little thing you had once thought was a virtue, which now seemed like selfishness in disguise.

the man was good at disturbing your thoughts and making you feel things that put you on the spot.

you became a deepspace hunter because you were selfish. you wanted to make a difference, like the people you grew up with had made.

you wanted to be smart like zayne and attentive like josephine. you wanted to be helpful like caleb and as notorious as your other anhaunsen classmates. you wanted to do anything to escape the feeling you’d had since birth—uselessness.

as you sank deep into the living room cushions and exhaled heavily into the lonely air of your apartment, your phone buzzed with a text from zayne.

fate was joking with you today.

are you okay?, it read.

his worry made your heart flutter a little before sadness took over your entire form again.

you didn’t have the heart to respond. lying required more strength than you had in that moment, so you tossed your phone onto the center table and ignored him.

i’m sorry, zayne, i wish i was stronger for you.

your stomach rumbled, and your ribs ached. earlier in the evening, you had let a wanderer get too close before killing it, distracted as you were. the mistake had left you with a swollen rib and a deep sense of shame. you’d promised to take care of it when you got home, but right now, all you could do was discard a few of your sharp weapons onto the floor before dozing off on the couch.

you’d probably hate yourself in the morning for sleeping with these tight boots on.

for you, the hardest part wasn’t the silence left behind. it wasn’t the way the world seemed to keep spinning while yours had shattered. the hardest part was feeling like you needed to smile, to nod politely when people said, “stay strong,” as if strength could stitch together the pieces of your broken heart.

the hardest part was the way people looked at you, expecting you to move forward, to let the memories be enough. but how could you, when the smell of smoke still haunted your nightmares, when you could still hear caleb’s laughter drowned by the deafening roar of the explosion? how could you heal when your soul was still bleeding, the wounds too fresh, the pain still pouring out with every breath you tried to take?

how could you move forward when you still couldn’t clench your fists as strong as you were accustomed to because you were thrown into the air and broke both of them at the incident?

you wondered if it would ever be enough, and if someday you’d find out who was responsible for all of this pain.

the kitchen candles were the only light in the room when you heard the doorbell ring. sharp and sudden, it cut through the haze and fought off your sleepiness in a second, your hunter’s bells ringing warningly.

your heart jumped, and your hand instinctively went to your side where your pistol usually rested, only to find it absent. you’d left it in your locker at the deepspace headquarters, thinking you wouldn’t need it tonight.

the bell rang again, more insistent this time.

“probably xavier,” you muttered, trying to shake off the lingering unease. your neighbor and cute colleague had been away on a special mission as a hunter. his absence had started to feel noticeable in the quiet moments.

you liked spending time with xavier because he seemed to understand you on another level. he never seemed to expect anything from you, which made grieving next to him a little less daunting. you missed his midnight visits and occasional talks about claw machines and stupid wanderers, and you wished he would respond to your texts asking when he was coming back.

you felt like you needed to hear his voice right now.

without thinking much, you unlocked the door, combat boots still on and dark circles framing your usually bright eyes.

“took you long enough—”

the words died on your lips.

it wasn’t xavier.

standing in your doorway, dressed in a pristine daa military uniform, was a man—ridiculously intimidating and strange. he looked at you with judgment and arrogance, making you step back a little and guard more of yourself.

thank god you still had your uniform on and wasn’t wearing some flimsy nightgown. the man seemed to be eating you alive in his head.

before you had the chance to question the stranger’s presence at your door on this random thursday night, he tossed you aside and pressed you against the corridor wall of your kitchen, your breath instantly hitched and your ribs ached from the impact.

your hunter’s awareness triggered instantly, instincts flaring and mind still trying to process what the hell was going on. your hands struggled against his grip, desperately searching for an evol to resonate with. if your mind had already been spiraling out of control before, now you felt like you could fight a thousand wanderers at once and focus on surviving with mere instinct.

you couldn’t scream. his right hand clamped over your mouth, his left gripping both your wrists in front of your chest and preventing you from punching him like you planned to. somehow, this was a professional individual who knew your fighting mannerisms and wrestling tendencies by heart.

with great effort, you managed to bite his hand that was closest to your mouth and heard his pained grunt right after. you swore you heard him cussing before his head raised and his eyes finally met yours.

your heart stopped. the world narrowed to the faint outline of his silhouette as you finally were able to look at his face. his hair was concealed beneath a presumptuous cap, the daa symbol shining bright at its center. black, red, and gold adorned the unknown uniform of the man who handled your body as if it were weightless, plastic.

you thrashed and twisted in his grip until he was forced to pin both your hands above your head, hissing when you managed to land a kick on his right knee. the door clicked shut beside you as he silenced your attempted scream with his hand again.

amethystine eyes stared back at you, thick brows furrowed as your gazes locked. chills ran down your spine. your hunter uniform pressed uncomfortably against the wall, your combat boots barely touching the floor. yet, despite your effort, he towered over you.

you wanted to cry.

the hidden freckles were the first clue your mind was playing tricks on you, the shape of his mouth the second, and his skin tone the third. countless times since the explosion, you’d dreamed of caleb’s touch—more nights than you could count. but as the weight of the day bore down on you, your fighting spirit waned, the initial rush of adrenaline fading as you stared into his eyes.

everything felt cruelly unfair.

his gaze was uncharacteristically hard as he watched you, his bruising grip on your mouth and wrists warming for a moment before you snapped out of your daze.

a smirk made way to his lips and his stupidly manly perfume set itself on your senses. another attempt at kicking him made him press himself further into you, ribs screaming from the pressure. if he noticed your pained expression, he didn’t mention it at all.

“caleb,” you whispered, the name barely audible. your voice cracked, your body frozen in place, your mind unable to reconcile the impossible reality before you.

he didn’t seem to hear you, but his hand left your mouth, his gaze sweeping over your body and his face so close to yours you could count his naturally defined lashes.

the tension between you two shifted as he eyed you closer, curious eyes landing on your pretty figure. he could swear for a moment you wouldn’t recognize him and that thought perturbed his mind for the next few seconds he allowed himself to bask in your beauty.

caleb was familiar with the sight of you in a hunter’s uniform, but never had he seen you looking this wrecked.

so pretty, but so unfairly exhausted, he thought.

in the weeks leading up to the explosion, he’d promised himself he’d never let you get hurt by ever ever again. now, seeing you like this, he wondered if things looked different from your perspective.

would you hate him?

would you hate him for the decisions he made? for the people he deceived and the families he destroyed? for the secrets he exposed so he could be at advantage and fight for you from a more privileged position?

would you hate him for wanting you all to himself and sharing the same fate as him as a human experiment? for wanting to take you to the ever base and expose you to everyone right before killing them? for being the demise of your life but still wanting to keep you as close as possible?

would you still love him after he told you all of the wrongings he did to make things right for you and him?, he wondered.

the look in your eyes told you no, and because of that, his grip on your pinned hands loosened, the silence between you two remaining charged with tension. he saw the exact moment reality crashed down on you. your gaze faltered, and for a moment, you looked like you were going to cry.

he would hate to see you cry because of him, even though deep down he knew how lovely you looked while pouring your eyes out. he have seen it a thousand times before. caleb wanted to make you cry in other circumstances, not right now.

his lips pressed into a forced smile, and your breath hitched as his eyes shone faintly in the dim light of the kitchen candles. though the light wasn’t very effective, the touch of his gloved hand was enough to confirm the truth: this wasn’t a fucking stranger.

caleb felt when you stopped fighting and caved into his touch, scared to death. he let go of your mouth and stared right at your lips.

“no,” you muttered, shaking your head as if to clear a hallucination. your hands remained bound, your feet still searching for the floor. “this can’t be true.”

he tilted his head slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. “it’s me.” his voice was calm, too familiar, too real. too cruel.

your body trembled with his tone, his breath fanning on your cheeks while your eyes scanned his. it felt wrong to say anything at the moment, fear still there in your eyes.

your body snapped into action, reality slamming into you like a tidal wave. you raised your knee, aiming to knock him off balance, desperate to banish the ghost standing in your kitchen.

but the colonel moved faster.

his hand shot out, catching your leg with unnerving precision. before you could react, he hoisted you over his shoulder effortlessly.

you stumbled, panic surging through your veins. your instincts screamed at you to fight, to move, to do something.

“let me go” you demanded, your voice trembling with equal parts fear and fury, punching his back in a futile attempt to stop him. “who are you? who sent you?”

“i came to see you,” he said simply, his voice steady and unnervingly calm. his eyes darted around the apartment, scanning every corner like a predator assessing its prey. “you didn’t think i’d stay away forever, did you?”

why did he sound so smug and heartless? it pissed you off.

realization set heavy on your shoulders—did he... did he fake his own death?

“you’re a fucking asshole.” you didn’t care that this man was more than six feet tall or that he wore a military uniform of all things, you kicked and screamed as much as you could after he threw you onto the couch—the very place you’d landed earlier that evening.

the moment he released you, you inched toward the center table where your spare weapon was stashed.

caleb’s smile faltered, replaced by something darker. his voice dropped, softer but laced with unsettling intensity. “i hope you cooperate from now on, pipsqueak.”

the words sent a chill down your spine.

“who the fuck do you think you are?” you spat, pistol in hand, ready to aim.

his gaze flicked to your movement, and before you could react, he was there. his hand closed around your wrist, pinning it to the couch with a force that made you gasp.

“you’re not going to hurt me, pipsqueak,” he murmured, his tone almost teasing, though the intensity in his purple eyes told a different story. “i’d never hurt you. you know that.”

you struggled against his grip, your heart pounding as fear twisted into anger. “let me go, caleb.”

“not until you listen,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. he leaned closer, his breath brushing against your ear. “will you stop fighting and thrashing around? i need to see if you are ready”

“ready for what?” you spat, your voice trembling with rage.

“for us,” he said simply, his tone calm, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

your breath hitched as his words sank in, the weight of them pressing down on you like a storm. “what the hell is ‘us’? you died. i watched you fucking die, asshole.”

he leaned closer, his forehead almost brushing yours, his voice a low whisper. “and i came back—for you.”

the weight of his presence, his words, was suffocating. for a moment, you froze, your mind racing for a way out.

it sounded so intimate, so romantically unsettling having him above you and saying things that made your heart clench. you hoped the hurt in your eyes was visible to the man. you hoped he still had sympathy and felt guilt somewhere underneath that uniform.

caleb stepped back, releasing your wrist but still blocking your path, his expression softening slightly as he examined you. “i need you to be quiet until i can tell you everything.”

“who do you think you are? you filthy liar”. 

caleb’s gaze flickered as your words hung between you, unspoken accusations slicing through the air like shards of glass. he shifted his weight, his broad frame now more a shadow than a presence in the dim room. for a moment, it seemed like he might say something—anything—but instead, he exhaled, a quiet sound that carried the weight of a thousand unspoken apologies.

"you look as pretty as always, princess", his whisper reached your ears and you felt a wave of anger wash over you.

"i don't know what you did to caleb, but right now is not the time for games". you spat the words with disgust.

"you think you know anything?" he asked, voice low but steady. his eyes, catching the faint glow of the candlelight, held yours. he looked scary above you. 

"you think that you are right?," you bit back, the ache in your ribs forgotten under the pressure of the moment. "faking a death isn’t something i take lightly in my books”.

his jaw tightened, the faintest tremor in his hand betraying him as he sighed. the silence stretched again, taut and heavy, before he finally spoke. “trust me to take care of you as i always did, pipsqueak, i just need more cooperation from you this time. i needed to do that so I could've gotten rid of josephine”.

the vulnerability in his voice caught you off guard, stealing whatever biting retort was forming on your tongue. you searched his face, the faint scars etched into his skin, the weariness in his eyes. "what the fuck did you just say?" you said softly, your voice trembling with the effort to keep it steady. 

caleb’s expression shifted as he saw the tense tone of your voice, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face. regret? anger? it was gone too fast to tell. "i said what i said," he replied, his tone measured, almost calm—too calm. "josephine was a threat. she had to go, and i handled it and you should put this in your mind and move on."

"you handled it?" the words came out as a growl. the disbelief, the rage, the grief—it all boiled over. "you’re talking about the woman who raised me, caleb. who raised you. and you expect me to just—what—trust that you had your reasons? that it’s fine because you handled it?"

you got up from the sofa and watched him tower over you once again, not being afraid to fight him out of your house this time. you took a step further and watched the surprise on his face mix with a hint of mischief.

"you must have lost your mind, who the fuck sent you here? answer me." you asked, your voice sharper now, frustration spilling over.

he stepped closer, the shadow he cast stretching long across the dim room. his voice dropped, soft but firm, the kind of tone that brooked no argument. "the sooner you accept the truth, the easier all of this will turn out for you. josephine was a loose thread that could put you at harm and, trust me, i won’t let anything or anyone put you at risk."

"shut up," you snapped, your hands shaking as they clenched into fists. "don’t you dare put this on her. don’t you dare tell me you did this for me." you pushed past him, pacing to the other side of the room as if distance could lessen the fury building inside you. "you’re out of your fucking mind if you think i’m going anywhere with you. you—i mourned you, caleb".

caleb turned, his movements slow and deliberate, his gaze locking onto yours. "you don’t have a choice," he said simply. "if you want a chance of surviving, you’ll accompany me to the farspace fleet so you can prove to me that you are not a threat, this isn’t a quest, Y/N.”

"stop acting like you’re my savior," you shouted, spinning to face him. "you lied to me, faked your death, and now you show up here, in my home, telling me what to do? you’ve lost the right to give me orders, caleb. i don’t have to prove you shit"

his eyes narrowed, and for a moment, something like frustration flashed across his face. "you’re impossible," he muttered, more to himself than to you. “don’t make me take you by force, princess, this is already hard enough for me”.

his presence felt heavier now, more intimidating and more overwhelming. “hear me out on this one, pipsqueak, you do as i say and we can have a nice chat. there’s more than one pair of eyes observing you in this room, can’t you see? you do what you’re told and you don’t cause any trouble, this is my final warning”.

caleb’s gaze didn’t waver, feelings too strong for him to back down.

“you think i trust you wholeheartedly as well? don’t you think i know about what you’re capable to do, what weapon they made you become?”, he questioned, raising more questions about your past to the surface.

you hesitated, your chest heaving as you glared at him, every instinct screaming at you to fight, to run, to do anything but listen.

“you think i don’t know what you’re capable of? you’ve got every right to hate me, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re in danger and i’m the only one who can keep you alive.”

he stepped closer, his boots echoing softly against the tiled kitchen floor, the flicker of candlelight casting shadows that seemed to stretch and twist with your unease. the space between you vanished with every deliberate step he took, and before you realized it, the cool edge of the counter pressed against your back.

“i came here to get you so i can protect you,” he said, his voice softer now, almost tender, though his eyes burned with something far less kind. “won’t you trust me, pipsqueak?”

you swallowed hard, your ribs aching as the tension tightened around you like a vice. the pain flared again on your right side, but you forced it down, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing your weakness. caleb’s arms came up, caging you between them, his palms braced on the counter on either side of you. his breath was warm against your skin, the faint scent of mossy perfume and something metallic clinging to him.

his amethystine eyes locked onto yours, drawing you in and daring you to look away. “josephine wasn’t innocent,” he murmured, the words deliberate, each one cutting deeper than the last. “she was the only way left they could get to you easily. so i had to get rid of her.”

the shock and fury bubbling in your chest clawed their way to the surface, but before you could lash out, he moved. slowly, deliberately, he raised his hands, his movements calm but weighted with unspoken meaning. his right hand hovered between your bodies as he tugged off his glove, revealing cold, gleaming metal where flesh once was.

your breath hitched, your eyes widening despite yourself. the intricate machinery of his prosthetic glinted dully in the dim light, a jarring contrast to the warmth of his other hand still braced beside you.

“i didn’t get out of there without paying a price,” he continued, his tone dipping lower, the faintest hint of bitterness creeping into his words. “if that makes you feel better.”

the sight of the metal, the weight of his confession, sent your mind reeling. you wanted to stay angry, to hold onto the fury that kept you standing, but the cracks in his armor—the familiar of his voice, the faint tremor in his hand—made it harder to breathe.

“turns out i gave them everything they wanted to have even more control over my body,” he said, his eyes narrowing slightly, studying your reaction like a predator watching prey. “you’re not the only ever victim in this room, princess, don't you see?”

his words hit like a punch to the gut, the nickname twisting something deep inside you. your eyes burned, the sting of unshed tears making your vision blur. compassion clawed its way forward, fighting against the iron grip of your fury.

he leaned closer, his voice softening, wrapping around you like a velvet noose. “don’t you see now? i’m your only way out. only i can make you safe, princess.” his head tilted slightly, his gaze piercing through the layers of anger and fear you’d built around yourself. “why don’t you see it?”

the way he said it—like it was inevitable, like you were foolish for resisting—sent a fresh wave of defiance coursing through you. your fingers twitched at your sides, curling into fists. the tears threatening to spill were not ones of submission but of frustration, of fury that he could twist your pain and vulnerability into leverage.

your hands trembled as you shoved against his chest, trying to create even an inch of space between you. “you’re the danger here, caleb.”

his expression hardened, though the faintest flicker of something else—hurt? regret?—crossed his features. he caught your wrists before you could push him further, his grip firm but not painful, his proximity suffocating.

“i won’t let you go this time,” he said, his voice quieter now, the sharp edge replaced with something closer to desperation. his eyes seemed to ignore every red signal your body emitted. “what are you afraid of, pipsqueak? c'mon, it’s me, caleb”.

the charged silence that followed was unbearable, the tension between you a living, breathing thing. the weight of his words, the intensity in his gaze—it all felt too much, too close, and yet not close enough.

“answer me.”, he demanded, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous rasp that sent a shiver down your spine. “you need me, Y/N.”

you wanted to scream, to shove him back, to wipe that look of control and simmering frustration off his face, but the words stuck in your throat. it wasn’t fear keeping you quiet—it was the truth you didn’t want to admit. the truth you couldn’t admit.

“you don’t get to do this,” you managed, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “you don’t get to leave me, fake your death, and then come back like nothing happened. like i’m supposed to just—just fall in line and listen to you.”

his lips parted as if to respond, but no words came out. instead, he exhaled sharply, his jaw clenching as his grip on your wrists loosened ever so slightly. “i didn’t come back for you to listen,” he said, his tone soft but laced with an edge of frustration. “i came back to make sure you survive. with me.”

“you are crazy” you spat, shaking your head as you finally yanked your hands free from his grasp. “i don't know why you changed so much. you call this survival? being hunted, manipulated, dragged into whatever mess you’ve made? that’s not survival, caleb. that’s hell.”

“didn’t you want answers?!” he snaps, his voice cutting through the charged silence like a whip. his tone is sharp, frustration crackling in the air between you. for a moment, you flinched at his tone. “answers about your past, about granny, about the aether core that lives inside of you?”. he motions for your chest and you lean away from him.

caleb throws his daa hat on the floor and runs his gloved hand over his hair, desperation clinging into his actions. a move you were so used to seeing him doing as a teenager now seemed to paint his figure as someone totally different.

“guess what,” he continues, stepping closer, his boots scraping against the floor as the small space between you shrinks to nothing. “i’m the only one who can give you that.”

your back hits the counter again, the cold surface biting through your shirt as his presence looms over you. his hands grip the edge of the counter on either side of you, boxing you in, and his voice drops lower, quieter, but no less intense. “i know you’ve been looking for the truth. don’t pretend you haven’t. every decision you’ve made, every risk you’ve taken, it’s all been for answers.”

the weight of his words pressed down on you, heavy and suffocating, as if the walls of the apartment were closing in. his voice, low and deliberate, carried the kind of certainty that felt like a blade against your resolve. you hated that he knew so much, hated the way his presence seemed to draw out every buried question, every lingering doubt you’d tried so hard to silence.

the truth of it stung more than you wanted to admit. because it was true—wasn’t it? every decision, every desperate move you’d made since josephine’s death had been about finding the missing pieces. about understanding why your life felt like a jigsaw puzzle with crucial parts deliberately torn away.

you grew up with people like zayne and caleb so you’d become the best version of yourself. still, you felt unworthy of everything you have ever achieved.

you were... at a loss of words.

your ribs screamed in pain against the counter, the cold seeping through your shirt and grounding you in the moment. you wanted to push him away, to snap back with something that would shatter the arrogance in his voice. but instead, you found yourself staring at him—really staring—seeing the desperation etched into every line of his face. it wasn’t just his words that rattled you; it was the way his shoulders seemed to carry the weight of something far greater than just your shared past.

you noticed the tremor in his hand, the way it lingered too long on the counter’s edge, as if he were holding himself back from reaching for you. the way his eyes, though sharp and unrelenting, flickered with something almost... pleading.

caleb seemed to be holding himself back—as he always did. this time, though, you were not sure if you wanted him to break and consume you or to let you go and forget the two of you. this was the first time in your life where you felt close enough to the truth, close enough to calm the storm of questions in your mind. still, your grip on your ego seemed to be as tight as ever.

everything felt unfair because you were oh so tired. since onychinus, sylus and the aether core, your mind has been settled into finding answers of questions that were never asked in the first place. you were running in circles and you dreamed every night about how you missed caleb. how you knew he would guide you into the right path if he was alive at the moment.

now that he was here, something felt uncharacteristically right for the first time in weeks.

you need me, he said.

it was a bold statement, a manipulative one, but the worst part was the whisper of doubt it planted in your mind. what if he’s right? what if caleb, with all his possessive behavior, really did have the answers you’d been chasing? could you afford to ignore him—risk losing whatever truth he claimed to hold—just because you didn’t trust him right now? just because his posture changed and his eyes seemed a little darker?

had you the privilege of saying no to him?

you have always been so weak for him, haven't you?

your gaze dropped to his gloved hand, still gripping the counter, then to the hat he’d thrown carelessly onto the floor. there was something raw about the gesture, something that pulled at a part of you you’d long thought buried. it was the same caleb you remembered, the one who’d run his hands through his hair in frustration when things didn’t go his way, but now there was a hardness to him, an edge that made him almost unrecognizable.

he leaned in slightly, his proximity sending a shiver down your spine. caleb’s hands cradled your face with an unsettling gentleness, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks as if to memorize every inch of your skin. his breath, warm and steady, fanned over your face, and the proximity made your pulse race despite every instinct screaming at you to pull away.

“do as i say, princess,” he murmured, his voice a mix of honeyed persuasion and steel. “you know deep down that i’m right.”

you hated how easily he saw through you, how his words made your chest tighten with the weight of unspoken truths. but there was a flicker of something else now—a sliver of curiosity, of reluctant consideration.

you stayed in silence.

“you’re trembling,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower, softer, as if the words were meant for no one but you. “what are you afraid of, princess? me?”.

his breath fanned over your cheek, the tension between you felt alive, electric, as if the air itself buzzed with anticipation. caleb’s hands cradled your face with a deliberate slowness, his fingers grazing your jawline like he was afraid you’d shatter under his touch. his thumbs traced lazy circles just below your cheekbones, sending faint shivers rippling down your spine.

caleb was very meticulous about the way he touched you. his words—carved in desperation just for you. he brushed away the tears you were shedding, breath in synch with yours as if he wanted for you to share your burden with him.

his thumb brushed against your skin, warm and steady, the faintest hint of mint and wood lingering in the space between you. the closeness made your pulse quicken, the steady rhythm in your chest now erratic and impossible to ignore. his forehead almost touched yours, his lips dangerously close but not quite there, as if he were savoring the moment, drawing it out until the anticipation was unbearable.

you gripped his forearms, confused at the needy feeling clawing its way out of your chest, the longing for closeness and safety that your brain always seemed to tie with the body in front of you. the tenderness he reserved only for you made your heart flutter despite the cruel truths and harsh words that had passed between you.

“what are you afraid of, princess?” he murmured again, his voice impossibly soft, like a velvet thread weaving its way into your thoughts. “it’s just me.”

the way he said it—low and intimate, like he was speaking to the deepest parts of you—made your knees weak.

his metal hand slid down from your face, the cool pads of his fingers brushing over the curve of your neck and coming to rest lightly on your shoulder. the weight was grounding, steadying, but it also sent sparks racing across your skin. the meaning behind his touch was at odds with the coldness of his prosthetic; it felt like both a tether and a promise.

you wondered if he was using your evol against you, manipulating your emotions, or if it was just your stupid, traitorous heart making you feel like you were floating.

your breaths came shallow and uneven as the tension between you thickened, palpable and inescapable. his gaze flickered to your lips, the intensity in his eyes making your stomach twist with anticipation. you hated how much you noticed the way he leaned closer, the way his presence filled every inch of the space around you, until there was nothing left but him.

“you don’t have to be scared of me,” he said softly, his lips brushing the words into the air between you. “i’d never hurt you.”

the warmth of his breath sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could think of a reason to stop him, he closed the distance.

his lips pressed against yours, slow and deliberate, giving you every chance to pull away. but you didn’t. the kiss was soft at first, hesitant, like he was waiting for you to decide, waiting to see if you would break the moment or lean into it. and for a heartbeat, you froze, the shock of it rooting you in place.

but the tenderness of his kiss, the way his hand tightened slightly on your shoulder as if to steady himself, drew you in. your fingers curled into his forearms, no longer in protest but in something closer to surrender, the heat of his closeness chasing away the cold air of the room. you felt something stir deep inside you when you felt the dips of his muscles underneath his uniform.

when did he became so big?

the kiss deepened, his lips moving against yours with a mix of urgency and restraint, as though he were holding back a tidal wave of emotion. you felt the shift in him—the desperation, the longing he’d tried to bury under layers of control. it poured out now, raw and unguarded, and it pulled something equally raw from within you.

when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm and uneven. his hands stayed where they were, steadying you as much as himself, and for a moment, the silence between you felt heavier than any words could.

“just me,” he whispered again, his voice breaking slightly, as if he needed you to believe it as much as he did.

author's note: want to cry more while reading? listen to remember me by d4vd and tell me that this song doesn't describe mc and caleb perfectly. SORRY FOR THE POOR ENDING, i'll make a part two of this post soon, follow me to get updated when i post or just check my masterpost from time to time :) send me a request • my masterpost

[457gf]

hwang inho who . . inho x fem!reader

₊˚ʚ warnings : smut, dark content, age gap, naive!reader, manipulation, sexual coercion, dubcon / noncon, slight somnophilia, inho being a creepy old man for you, use of the word 'rαpe'

hwang inho who loves taking advantage of innocent naive girls, practically drooling when he spots you nervously fidgeting with your fingers, eyes squeezed shut as you silently begged for others to vote x. you wanted to go home so bad, but of course inho couldn’t let that happen.

hwang inho who can’t help but throb in those stupid cheap sweatpants when your smile drops even further from the result of him continuing to stay. obviously you didn’t know the real reason he said yes, though thinking of the look of betrayal that would form on your face after he tells you makes his grin that much wider.

hwang inho who approaches you gently, almost as if you’re a porclein doll who could be broken at any moment. you’re understandably weary because of the blue O stuck on his chest for the time being, almost as if a mockery. he’s the one that sealed your fate of staying here, after all. instead of bothering you like you initially thought, he politely invites you to sit with him and a few other people, under the ruse of “you look like you needed a friend.” in actuality, he just wanted to make sure you didn’t stray from his sight.

hwang inho who does everything in his power to get close to you. promising he’ll protect you, stick by you during all of the game, and put your safety well above his own. not like he was in any real danger with the guards on his side, though those words did give him a few brownie points from you for his generosity. it wasn’t really a lie, because he would protect you through all of the games, and he had no doubt about that.

hwang inho who watches you at night, promising to keep lookout for the whole group, though he spends most of his time staring at you. pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, pushing your hair out of your eyes so he’s able to see your pretty face better. inho can’t help but run his hands over your body, feather light touches across your perky tits and your hips, careful not to wake you up. you’re so god damn beautiful, you could be classified deadlier than the games because of the way you make his heart stop.

hwang inho who quickly pulls his hands away when you start to blink awake, eyes heavy with sleep. he’s a bit embarrassed he let himself be so reckless, but there’s nothing a little lie won’t fix. “oh, you kicked your blanket off so i was making sure you were cozy again.” “you were squirming so i thought you were having a nightmare. are you okay?” “i’m just checking on you, i’m sorry if i scared you.”

hwang inho who runs to the bathroom shortly after, unable to take more of the aching caused by your precious eyes. he’s pressed up against a stall, hand working fast over his thick cock as images of you flood his mind. you’re so cute and naive, he wants nothing more than to break you. you’re so stupid, you believed his little lie, not even questioning any further. and god, the way you called him “mister young-il” in that tired voice of yours before flopping back down, a sigh of relief escaping, made him feel even more perverted. you were so young and truly trusted him to look after you. he couldn’t get the thought of you underneath him, begging him to keep using you like a fleshlight out of his gross head.

hwang inho who can’t decide if he finds the idea of you crying out for him to stop and get off you hotter than you asking for more. definitely the former, he thinks. he wants to rαpe you, to sneak his hands underneath your pants in the middle of the night and play with your sopping cunt, the idea of your own body betraying you and giving into his sick desires and love for you makes his head fall back, roughly hitting the stall door in the process. he couldn’t care, he’s too far gone thinking about you.

hwang inho who can’t help but plot when the best time to take advantage of you will be, finally coming to the conclusion of mingle. the guards take a few minutes to clean up the bodies and some of the blood of each deceased after each round, leaving the players trapped in the locked rooms whilst doing so. all he had to do was wait for two people to be called out, tell the guards to take a little extra time, play your knight in shining armour, then push you against the wall and make you squirm.

[stardust-thief]

look after you

an: this my first x reader fic LMAOO, i needed to write smth and this spencer was on my brain :// i am in the middle of a rly long donna fic but i cba this was much easier. also i absolutley have not proof read this sorry

synopsis: you get hurt while hunting down an unsub, after some reluctance (and kind words from papa rossi) you let spencer take care of you, 1.7k words

cw: descriptions of violence, panic attack, spencer swears and can drive (the most un-canon thing abt him) umm italians..., the rest is just fluffy, hurt/comfort, x reader but no y/n

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The unsub had his gun pointed at you, the cold press of the barrel against flesh. He was ranting and raving about needing to be seen and understood, having spent his childhood in emotional neglect. Teachers and parents failed him at every turn, it’s not his fault that this happened but he can fix it if he just drops the gun. Rossi tried to tell him this over and over, but he only got more angry, pushing the gun in harder and harder. 

If you were to open your eyes, you would’ve seen JJ and Luke there too, guns trained on the unsub. Their eyes glancing between you, the unsub, and the gun. But you didn’t. Not until the bang went off and you could breathe again. 

The flashing lights of the ambulance do nothing to dissuade the pressing headache you feel coming on, the movement of people helps even less. You watch as the EMT’s cart the unsub away on a gurney, sheet covering him. 

“You okay, kid?” Rossi asks from beside you, he had been hovering ever since the ambulance arrived. 

“I’m fine, just need a good night's rest. I’ll be good as new.” You hummed half-heartedly. 

David Rossi always knew when someone was lying to him, part of that talent comes from his job as a profiler, but it’s mostly because of some ancient Italian magic. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that to me. Look, Hotch is on his way with Reid and Emily. They’re gonna be taking some witness statements, but I imagine Boy Wonder will be a little distracted. I want you to let him take care of you, ok? You’ve been through hell tonight kid, let him worry.”

Italians never lie, although you wish they did. Spencer had very obviously caught feelings for you, everyone on the team could see it. Unfortunately, so could you. Spencer Reid was one of the kindest, most genuine people you had ever met, always putting other people's needs before his own. A voice in your head kept telling you that there is nothing you have done to deserve someone like him doting all over you? You had only brought trouble to the people who loved you. Eventually you learned that it was better to just keep everyone at a distance; if you don’t let them in, they can’t get hurt. Which worked well, up until Spencer.

He had such a wormy way of getting into your brain at the worst times; whether it was when you were alone in your kitchen, or at slightly dangerous, very inappropriate times on a case. You couldn’t stop thinking about him and his stupidly cute (and sometimes ill-timed) facts. Some part of you wanted to let him in, in the end the stubborn side always took over. 

Before long, you heard the worried cries of Spencer trying to find you in the chaos. Rossi called his name and gave you a pat on the shoulder, “Remember, you deserve to be looked after too.” and left to find Hotch.

“Oh my god, are you okay? We tried to get here as soon as we could, but they managed to take down the unsub right? What happened, did he hurt you? How did you get so close? Talk to me are-” Oh, how he rambles. 

“Spencer, I’m fine. I just need to… rest, you know. He didn’t hurt me that bad, just a sprained wrist, couple bruises. Could’ve been worse.”

He spluttered, “Could’ve- you know, that doesn’t make this any better, I was so worried about you. He had a fucking gun to your head, I was going insane thinking about what could’ve happened. What did the EMT say about your wrist?”

“Just to rest it, and use an ice pack if it starts to swell or hurt.” You couldn’t look him in the eye, he was so worried about you. It made butterflies dance in your belly, but there was a twinge of guilt there too. He was so busy, he worked so hard and then went home to look after his mom. He had too much on his plate, how could you add more to it? “Spence, I’m really sorry about worrying you. I should be fine to leave now, so I’ll just head home and sleep it off. Have a good night.” You pushed yourself off the ambulance, eyes focused downwards, restless fingers fidgeting with the already frayed bandage.

“No- wait what are you talking about? You’re gonna drive yourself home in this condition? I can’t let you do that, even thinking about it makes me feel sick.” He lowered his head to yours and spoke softer this time, “Please let me take you home. I don’t have to stay, I just want to make sure you’re ok, ok?”

Fuck that voice did things to you. Leaning from side to side, you thought about what Rossi had said earlier. Maybe, it was ok to let someone in? It would be cruel to let him suffer more, not knowing if you were ok or somehow got in a car crash with 5 other vehicles on your way home. Just this once, you think.

Looking up into his soft eyes, you give a small nod. His lips immediately turned up into a smile, his hand comes up to cup your head, fingers stroking your cheek. It felt… nice. His thumb was calloused but he still moisturised enough for it to feel smooth, and he smelled like lemongrass and ginger. His hand fell to the small of your back as he guided you to his car. Ever the gentlemen, he opened your door and softly placed his hand over your head as you got in. Manoeuvring himself into the driver's side, he pulled out his phone and typed something, then quickly stuffed it away into a pocket and turned on the engine.

The sky was dark when you woke up. The unsub had a gun to your head at dusk, and Spencer was walking into your apartment when the moon was out. He took off his shoes and the door, and walked into your living room.

“I’ve never been here before,” he mused. “I like it.”

He looked at ease wandering around your apartment, his shoulders had relaxed and he let out soft musings as he perused your photo collections.

“Oh Spencer, not that one, it’s embarrassing!” You tried (with not a lot of effort) to pull him away from the frame.

“No this is cute, was this when you were at University?” He asked, wrapping an arm around you.

Oh my god. “Yeah, um- those were some of my friends at the time. I try and keep in touch but, you know.”

He hummed, pulling you closer into him. Finally content, he looked down at you. “How’s your wrist?”

“It’s ok,” you shrugged, “just a little tender now.”

“Where’s your kitchen, I can get some ice.”

“Spence-” you wanted to tell him no, to go home and look after himself. But his body was so warm, having him so close to you melted your brain, leaving you unable to think of any good reason as to why he should leave. “It’s the first door on the right.”

His grip tightened for a moment before he swiftly navigated you to the sofa, and turned to leave for the kitchen. The cold of the apartment rushed to get you as soon as he unraveled his arms. You hadn’t been alone all day since the unsubs attack, it somehow felt more claustrophobic. His hand on your throat, squeezing the air from your lungs. The way he grabbed your arm, contorting it so he could throw you to the ground. The gun, pressed into your forehead. The knowledge that the only thing between you being alive, and you being in a ditch, was a madman's finger on the trigger. Reality faded as each memory pressed further and further into your mind. You weren’t in your apartment anymore, you could feel the cold concrete beneath your hands. The thick air in your lungs, Rossi and the unsub shouting.

A hand on your knee, a soft voice bringing you back. There was no unsub, no gun to your head. You were alive. You were alive and Spencer was in your apartment, wiping the tears that had fallen down your face.

“You with me?” His voice was so soft, you couldn’t recall ever hearing Spencer raise his voice in anger. He was so gentle when he touched you. 

The floodgates burst, choked sobs made their way past your lips. Your shoulder shook as you cried, pressing yourself into Spencer’s arms. “Oh honey,” He murmured, pressing his lips into your head, softly rocking you back and forth as you sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. It was too much. You could have died today. Very nearly did. You weren’t ready to die, not yet at least.

As your cries softened into hiccups, you pushed yourself back from Spencer. “I’m sorry, that was so disgusting. It just all- I don’t know.”

 “Hey, you don’t ever have to apologise to me ok? What you went through was really scary, I’d honestly be more shocked if you didn’t cry.” His hand moved to draw soothing shapes along your back as you leaned back into him. “You want to watch something to calm down? I brought you some water and an ice pack for your wrist.”

He would be the death of you. You nod and push yourself back into the sofa, moving your wrist to rest in your lap. Spencer gently places the ice pack across your wrist and grips the tips of your fingers. He leans forward to push your cup of water towards you and grabs the TV remote, then turns and leans back so your side is pressed into his front. Truthfully, Spencer didn’t seem like the type to watch cable TV but he navigated the menu with somewhat ease. 

“Look at what’s on! It’s your favourite isn’t it, you want me to put it on.” He said as he nudged your shoulder.

He remembered your favourite film, of course he would remember it he has an eidetic memory. You hummed a yes as you relaxed your body further into his, finally content. Maybe Rossi was right, having Spencer close really wasn’t so bad after all.

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, in every life ࿐‧₊ house of m - bittersweet

chapter summary: Logan wakes up in a distorted reality created by Wanda. Everything is far too perfect, including the fact you're alive and well.

word count: 9.5k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: so this series, i love you, in every life, are all mainly oneshots of the lives you and logan have in the multiverse. unless i specify, they all are oneshots!

anyways, i wanted to do something a little different and this was actually my first idea for the multiverse concept between logan and reader. enjoy!

and, an extra note, thank y'all so much for 1k followers! i've truly had the most fun writing these stories and hearing your feedback!

warnings/tags: loosely based on 'house of m' story-line, mentioned heart problems, mentioned cardiac arrest, mentioned character death, not proofread

series masterlist

The early morning light filtered through the tall windows of the Xavier Academy. Logan sat up in bed, the tangled sheets barely covering the muscles of his broad chest. The warm smell of coffee and freshly baked bread wafted in from the kitchen. For a moment, he let himself linger, staring at the peaceful room.

It felt wrong.

The woman standing at the counter—you—shouldn’t have been here. Your laugh as you scolded the toaster for burning the bread shouldn’t have existed. And yet, it did.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” you said, your voice soft but teasing. You turned, a mug in hand, wearing one of his old flannel shirts that hung loosely over your frame. “Didn’t think you’d ever wake up. I was about to eat breakfast without you.”

Logan grunted, “maybe you should’ve.”

“Grumpy already?” You set the mug on the table near him. “You didn’t even try the coffee yet.”

He took the mug but didn’t drink. Instead, he studied your face—so familiar, so perfect. Your hair was tousled from sleep, your smile easy, as though you didn’t carry the weight of a dozen deaths. You didn’t remember them, but he did. And yet, you looked at him like you always had in those other lives, with affection, curiosity, and warmth.

“What?” you asked, tilting her head.

Logan shook his head and finally took a sip. “Nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing. It was everything.

---

Later that day, Logan stood outside the academy’s training grounds, watching students practice their powers under your guidance. You stood at the center of the group, gesturing with animated hands as you instructed a young telekinetic mutant on control.

“That’s it,” you encouraged, your voice carrying over the field. “Focus on the edges of what you can feel, not just the center. You’ll find more strength there.”

The student grinned as a boulder hovered unsteadily in the air, then dropped it with a soft thud.

“Good! You’re getting it!” you cheered, clapping your hands.

Logan couldn’t take his eyes off you. It wasn’t just the joy you exuded or the way you brought out the best in people. It was the fact that you seemed to belong here, as if this world had always been yours.

Except it hadn’t.

He leaned against the railing, lighting a cigar as Magneto’s words from yesterday echoed in his mind: “A world where mutants thrive is a world where we all belong, Logan. Why fight against it?”

But Logan knew better. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t real. And he was starting to think the cracks in this illusion were beginning to show.

Logan stubbed his cigar out on the metal railing, his jaw tight. Watching you laugh with the students made his chest ache in a way he hadn’t let himself feel in a long time. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen that smile, those bright eyes so full of life, but it still hit him like a gut punch.

It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

He crossed the field to where you stood, finishing up with the young telekinetic. The boulder wobbled again before thudding to the ground, earning a small cheer from the group.

“Take five, guys,” you said, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “But don’t wander too far—we’re not done yet.”

The students scattered, leaving you alone with Logan as he approached. You tilted your head, giving him a curious look.

“What’s up, honey?” you asked, crossing your arms.

Logan’s lips twitched at the nickname. You’d called him that in another life, a long time ago—at least that’s what it felt like. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, trying to find the right words, but everything felt too big to say out loud.

“You’re good with them,” he finally said, nodding toward the students.

Your smile grew, soft and pleased. “They’re easy to work with. Just need someone to believe in them.” You stepped closer, tilting your head to study him. “What’s really on your mind, Logan? You’ve been watching me like I’ve got a third eye.”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re not wrong.”

“Care to elaborate?”

Logan looked away, his gaze falling on the boulder the kid had been lifting. “This place,” he said after a beat. “Feels too good to be true, don’t it?”

You frowned, stepping closer so you could look up at him. “What do you mean?”

“This,” he said, gesturing vaguely to the field, the academy, and then to you. “All of it.”

Your brows knit together, and your voice softened. “Logan, what’s going on? You’ve been acting... off.”

Logan’s eyes snapped back to yours. He wanted to tell you everything—to unload the weight he carried, to make you understand that none of this was what it seemed. But how could he, when you were at the center of it all?

“I’m fine,” he said gruffly, turning to walk away.

You grabbed his arm, your touch grounding him. “Don’t do that,” you said. “Don’t shut me out. Not after everything.”

Logan froze. The sincerity in your voice cut through him like a knife. He turned back to face you, his eyes searching yours. “After everything, huh?” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “You don’t even know the half of it, darlin’.”

You blinked, startled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but the sound of Magneto’s voice interrupted him.

“Logan,” Erik called from across the yard, his tone calm but commanding. “A word.”

Logan clenched his jaw, then glanced back at you. “I’ll catch you later.”

“Logan—”

But he was already walking away.

---

Inside the academy’s briefing room, Logan leaned against the wall, arms crossed as Magneto stood at the head of the table.

“You’ve been restless,” Erik said, watching him closely.

Logan snorted. “Restless? That what you’re callin’ it?”

Erik’s gaze didn’t waver. “I know what you’re thinking. That this world isn’t real. That it’s an illusion.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed. “And you’re okay with that?”

“I am,” Erik said simply. “Because it’s a better world. A world where mutants thrive, where humans no longer threaten us, and where the people we love are alive.”

Logan’s chest tightened. “It ain’t real, Erik. None of it is. And when it all comes crashin’ down, what then?”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Erik said. “But you? You’re torn. I see the way you look at her, Logan. Y/N’s alive here. Isn’t that enough?”

Logan pushed off the wall, his fists clenched. “You think I don’t want this to be real? You think I don’t wanna believe that she’s really here, laughin’ and smilin’ like she used to?” He shook his head, his voice dropping. “But it ain’t real. And if I let myself believe it is... I lose her all over again.”

Erik’s expression softened, just slightly. “Sometimes, Logan, the illusion is better than the truth.”

“Not for me,” Logan growled, turning on his heel and storming out.

---

You found Logan later that night in the library, nursing a drink and staring out the window. The moonlight cast a faint glow over his rugged features, and he looked older, more tired than usual.

“Didn’t think you were the library type,” you said, leaning against the doorframe.

He didn’t turn around. “Couldn’t sleep.”

You stepped closer, sliding into the chair across from him. “Wanna talk about it?”

Logan glanced at you, his eyes dark and unreadable. “You ever feel like somethin’ ain’t right, but you can’t put your finger on it?”

You frowned, leaning forward. “Sometimes. Why?”

He hesitated, then sighed. “This world... It’s too perfect, Y/N. Too... clean. Like it’s all been stitched together from pieces that don’t quite fit.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “What are you saying, Logan?”

“I’m sayin’...” He trailed off, his gaze dropping to his drink. “I’m sayin’ I don’t think this is real. Any of it.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Logan, that’s... That’s a lot to drop on…” You trailed off, almost like someone cut off your train of thought and replaced it with a new one. “But if things are better now, isn’t that good?”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and he leaned back in his chair, swirling the liquid in his glass. His gaze didn’t leave yours, but his expression hardened, like he was fighting to keep something buried.

“Good for who, darlin’?” His voice was low, rough, and filled with a tension that made your stomach twist.

You frowned. “For us. For the kids. For everyone.” You gestured vaguely toward the window. “Logan, this—whatever it is—it’s not perfect, but it’s better than what we’ve had before, isn’t it? You’re not running. I’m not… gone.”

His hand froze mid-motion, the glass hovering just shy of his lips. He set it down carefully, his movements deliberate, like he was holding himself back.

“That’s the problem,” he said, voice quieter now but no less intense. “You shouldn’t be here.”

You blinked, confusion knitting your brows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He hesitated, his fingers curling into a fist on the table. “You don’t remember, do you?”

“Remember what?”

Logan leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at you like you held all the answers to questions he was too afraid to ask. His voice softened, tinged with something that sounded almost like guilt.

“You died,” he said, the words landing heavy between you.

Your breath caught, the room seeming to close in around you. “Logan…”

“I saw it,” he continued, his voice rough and unsteady. “You had a heart attack. Dropped dead to the ground and only survived because Jean did chest compressions until the ambulance came. You were only in the hospital for two hours before you had another one. They said it was an undiagnosed hypertrophic cardiomyopathy.”

Logan’s voice cracked slightly as he leaned back in his chair, his gaze locked on you. “You were too damn young for somethin’ like that.” His knuckles were white as he gripped the edge of the table. “One minute, we were talkin’ about dinner plans, and the next... you were gone.”

You stared at him, the weight of his words pressing down on your chest. “Logan, I—” You stopped, searching his face for something, anything that would make sense of what he was saying. “That doesn’t make any sense. I’m here. I’m fine.”

He exhaled sharply, the sound almost a growl. “That’s what’s wrong with all this, darlin’. You’re here, smilin’, laughin’—but you’re not supposed to be. You died.” His voice softened, but it didn’t lose its edge. “And now you’re here, like it never happened.”

You blinked, trying to process what he was saying. “I don’t—Logan, do you hear yourself? That’s insane.” You rubbed at your temples, a headache creeping in. “I didn’t die. I’d remember if something like that happened.”

He let out a bitter laugh, the sound low and filled with frustration. “That’s just it. You don’t remember because this place—it’s not real.”

You froze, your hand dropping to the table. “What are you talking about?”

Logan leaned forward again, his hands clenched into fists on the table. “Wanda,” he said, his voice rough. “She made this... world. A perfect little picture where everyone’s happy, where the people we lost are back.”

You stared at him, your mind racing. “Wanda? What does she have to do with this?”

“She’s the reason you’re here, sweetheart,” Logan said, his gaze unwavering. “She did this for her own reasons, but you—she brought you back too.”

You shook your head, standing up abruptly. “No. That doesn’t make sense. Why would Wanda do something like that? And why... why me?”

Logan’s jaw tightened as he stood, his height and presence suddenly overwhelming. “Because she cared about you. She couldn’t stand what happened. Hell, I couldn’t stand it either.” His voice softened, and he took a step closer. “But it ain’t real, Y/N. No matter how much I want it to be.”

You stepped back, your pulse pounding in your ears. “You’re saying this—me being here—is some kind of... illusion? Like I’m not even real?”

“No,” Logan said quickly, his voice firm. “You’re real, darlin’. But this world? It ain’t. It’s Wanda’s doin’. She twisted everything to give us what we wanted.” He paused, his expression conflicted. “And I’m guessin’ she thought I wanted you.”

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. “And do you? Want me here, I mean?”

Logan’s expression softened, the hard lines of his face easing as he stepped closer. “You think I’d ever not want you here?” His voice was low, rough with emotion. “Every time I lost you, it felt like I lost a part of myself. You think I don’t want this? That I don’t want to wake up every damn day and see you smilin’ at me?”

Your breath caught as he reached out, his hand brushing against yours. The warmth of his touch was grounding, even as everything else spun out of control.

“But it ain’t real,” he continued, his voice heavy with regret. “And if I start believin’ it is... I’ll lose you all over again when it falls apart.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening. “Logan, if this isn’t real, then... what happens to me?”

He flinched, the question hitting him like a punch to the gut. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I’ll be damned if I let it happen without a fight.”

You closed your eyes, trying to steady yourself. The room felt too small, too overwhelming. “I need... I need to think,” you said, stepping back.

Logan let you go, his hand falling to his side. “Take all the time you need, darlin’,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “Just don’t forget—no matter what happens, I’m here. Always.”

You nodded, your throat too tight to respond, and turned to leave. But as you walked away, his words echoed in your mind, filling the silence with a truth you weren’t sure you were ready to face.

---

You found Wanda standing by the edge of the mansion’s sprawling grounds, her gaze distant as if she were watching something far beyond what anyone else could see. Her crimson coat fluttered lightly in the breeze, and the energy around her felt heavier than usual—a tension you couldn’t quite place.

“Wanda?” you called, your voice trembling slightly.

She turned, her expression calm but with a faint shadow behind her eyes. “Hey,” she greeted softly. “You okay?”

You took a deep breath and stepped closer, trying to steady your racing thoughts. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “Something feels... off. I mean, this place—everything—it’s almost too perfect, you know?”

Wanda’s lips quirked into a small, unreadable smile. “Too perfect? That’s not something I hear often.”

You hesitated, unsure how to put your swirling thoughts into words. “Logan said something. He said—” You stopped, your voice faltering as her gaze locked onto yours.

“What did Logan say?” she asked, her tone calm but carrying an undercurrent of something sharper.

“That this... all of this... isn’t real,” you said slowly, watching her reaction. “He thinks you... made it all up. That you brought me back somehow. Is that true?”

Wanda’s expression softened, her eyes filled with something like sorrow. “Y/N, why would he say something like that? You’re here. You’re alive. Isn’t that what matters?”

“That’s not an answer,” you countered, stepping closer. “Wanda, please. I need to know. Am I—” Your voice cracked, but you pushed on. “Am I real? Is any of this real?”

For a moment, Wanda’s face flickered with something—guilt, maybe? Or hesitation? Then she reached out, placing her hands gently on your shoulders.

“Y/N,” she said, her voice soft and soothing. “You’re overthinking this. You’ve been through so much; it’s natural to feel... disoriented.”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “This isn’t just me overthinking. Logan said—”

Her eyes glowed faintly red, and the air seemed to hum around you. “Logan’s been through a lot too. Sometimes he... struggles to separate the past from the present.”

Her words made sense—or at least, they should have. But there was a nagging doubt in the back of your mind, a thread you couldn’t quite pull free.

“Wanda, I—”

“Shh,” she murmured, her hands moving to cradle your face. The red glow in her eyes intensified. “You don’t need to worry about this, Y/N. Just... let it go.”

The hum grew louder, and a sudden wave of warmth flooded your mind, like slipping into a deep, dreamless sleep. The doubts, the questions, the gnawing sense of unease—they all seemed to dissolve, leaving behind only a gentle calm.

You blinked, your thoughts fuzzy. “What was I saying?”

Wanda smiled, her hands dropping to her sides. “Nothing important. You’re just tired, that’s all. Why don’t you take a break? Go spend some time with Logan. He’s been worried about you.”

You nodded slowly, the lingering haze in your mind making it hard to argue. “Yeah... maybe you’re right.”

Wanda watched you walk away, her expression unreadable as she turned back to the horizon. The faint glow in her eyes dimmed, and the breeze carried a whisper of her voice, too soft for anyone to hear.

“I’m sorry.”

---

From the shadows, Logan watched as you disappeared into the mansion. His jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. He’d seen Wanda’s subtle hand movements, the faint glimmer of red that surrounded you as she spoke.

“She took it outta her head,” Logan muttered to himself, his voice rough with anger. “Dammit, Wanda.”

The truth hadn’t just been hidden—it had been stolen from you. And Logan knew he’d have to find a way to get it back.

---

Logan leaned against the doorway of your shared room, arms crossed tightly over his chest. The dim light from the bedside lamp cast a warm glow over you as you flipped through a magazine, completely at ease. Your relaxed posture, your soft smile—it all seemed so real. But Logan knew better.

You glanced up, your eyes lighting up when you saw him. “Hey,” you greeted, setting the magazine aside. “How long have you been lurking there?”

“Long enough,” Logan said, his voice rough but tinged with affection. He walked in, pulling the chair from the corner and spinning it around to sit backward, arms resting on the backrest. “We need to talk, darlin’.”

The tone of his voice caught your attention, and you straightened slightly. “That sounds serious. What’s going on?”

He took a deep breath, his gaze meeting yours. “It’s about Wanda. About all of this.”

You frowned, tilting your head. “What about Wanda?”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and his fists clenched against the chair. “This... this world we’re livin’ in? It ain’t real. She made it.”

Your brows furrowed, and you leaned forward, confusion flickering in your eyes. “Logan, what are you talking about? Of course, it’s real. We’re here. We’re together.”

“That’s the problem,” he said, his voice heavy. “It’s too perfect. Think about it. The mansion’s in one piece. No one’s fightin’. You’re here. Alive.”

You blinked, the weight of his words hitting you like a sudden gust of wind. “What do you mean, I’m alive? Why wouldn’t I be?”

Logan hesitated, the memory of losing you—your last breath, the stillness that followed—flashing behind his eyes. He rubbed a hand over his face, sighing. “You don’t remember, do you? We had this conversation a few hours ago. You died, a few months ago.”

You stared at him, your voice steady but softer than usual. “Even if it’s not real, why can’t you just accept it?”

Logan’s brow furrowed, his jaw tightening as he leaned forward in his chair. “Because it ain’t real, darlin’. You know me. I don’t do ‘perfect.’ This—” he gestured vaguely, his fingers flexing—“this whole thing? It’s like livin’ in a dream, but dreams don’t last. They break. And when this one does...” He trailed off, his throat working around unspoken words.

“Maybe it doesn’t have to break,” you said quietly, your eyes locked on his. “Maybe we could just let it be.”

“That’s not how it works, sweetheart,” Logan said, shaking his head. His voice was rough, the weight of years pressing down on each word. “I’ve seen too much, lost too much, to believe in fairy tales. And this? This is Wanda’s doing. It ain’t right.”

You exhaled slowly, sitting back on the bed. “Logan, why does it matter if it’s real or not? If it feels real—if we’re together, happy—why can’t that be enough for you?”

Logan let out a sharp breath, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Because you died, Y/N,” he snapped, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “I held you, felt your heartbeat stop. I buried you, darlin’. That’s real. That’s what I remember.”

The room fell silent except for the faint hum of the lamp. You looked at him, your expression unreadable, before speaking softly. “And now I’m here.”

“That ain’t how it works!” Logan growled, his voice rising before he caught himself. He ran a hand through his hair, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he tried to rein in his frustration. “People don’t just come back. Not like this. You know it, Wanda knows it, and—dammit—you should know it too.”

“I know you’re hurting,” you said, leaning forward and placing a hand on his arm. “But what if this was her way of fixin’ things? Of givin’ us another chance?”

Logan stared at your hand on his arm, his jaw clenching tightly. “She didn’t ‘fix’ anything,” he said after a long pause, his voice low. “She twisted it. Made somethin’ up ‘cause she couldn’t face the truth. That’s not the same.”

“And what’s the truth, Logan?” you challenged, your voice firm but still gentle. “That I’m gone? That you’re supposed to just keep going, living in that pain forever? What’s wrong with her wantin’ to take some of that away?”

Logan’s eyes flicked to yours, a storm brewing behind them. “It ain’t about me, darlin’. It’s about you. She’s playin’ with your life like it’s a toy, like it’s somethin’ she can rewrite when she feels like it.”

You hesitated, your grip on his arm tightening slightly. “If I’m here now—if I get to wake up every day and see you, talk to you, love you—then maybe it’s worth it.”

He stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. “You don’t understand,” he said, pacing a few steps before turning back to face you. “When this falls apart—and it will—it’s gonna tear us both to pieces. Again.”

“Maybe it won’t,” you countered, standing to meet his gaze. “Maybe it can last.”

Logan scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re just sayin’ that ‘cause she made sure you’d believe it.”

“Or maybe,” you said, your voice rising slightly, “I’m sayin’ it ‘cause I want to believe it. Because I choose to.”

The weight of your words hung between you, the space between you both charged with unspoken emotions. Logan’s fists clenched at his sides, his chest heaving as he stared at you.

“You really think this is what you want?” he asked, his tone softer but still laced with frustration. “To live in somethin’ that ain’t real, just ‘cause it feels good?”

“Yes,” you said simply, your voice unwavering. “Because being with you? It feels right.”

Logan closed his eyes for a moment, his shoulders slumping slightly. When he looked at you again, there was something raw and vulnerable in his gaze. “You deserve better than some fake life, Y/N. You deserve somethin’ real.”

You stepped closer, placing your hand on his cheek. He didn’t pull away. “And maybe, for me, this is real. You’re here. I’m here. That’s all I need.”

His hand came up to cover yours, his calloused fingers rough against your skin. “Darlin’,” he murmured, his voice breaking slightly, “if I lose you again...”

“You won’t,” you whispered, your thumb brushing his cheek. “I’m here, Logan. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

He didn’t respond, just pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if you might disappear at any moment. The warmth of his embrace was familiar, comforting, and for a moment, it felt like maybe you could convince him. Maybe you could make him believe.

But deep down, you knew Logan’s grip on reality was stronger than your faith in this world.

---

“Hey! I was gonna ask you to explain quantum—” Peter cut himself off from his excited question, only to quickly turn his head behind him like he sensed something.

“Peter?” you asked, tilting your head as you watched him freeze mid-step. “Everything alright?”

Peter blinked rapidly, his usual boyish energy dimmed as his gaze darted between you and the empty hallway behind him. He scratched the back of his neck, forcing a sheepish smile. “Yeah, yeah. Totally fine. Just thought I heard something, but, uh, guess it was nothing. Mansion’s old, you know? Creaky floors and all that.”

You narrowed your eyes, not quite buying his excuse. “Since when do creaky floors freak you out? You’re Spider-Man, Peter.”

He laughed nervously, adjusting the strap of his backpack. “True, but, you know, sometimes even Spider-Men get spooked by weird noises. Occupational hazard.”

“Uh-huh,” you replied, crossing your arms. “What were you gonna ask me before you got distracted?”

“Oh, right!” Peter brightened slightly, though there was still a flicker of unease in his expression. “I was gonna ask if you could explain quantum entanglement again. I swear, I’ve read about it like a million times, but my brain just refuses to cooperate.”

Before you could answer, Logan’s voice echoed from down the hallway. “Parker. Got a minute?”

Peter turned, relief flashing across his face like Logan had just handed him a lifeline. “Uh, yeah! Sure thing, Mr. Logan. I mean, Logan. I mean, uh—”

“Just get over here,” Logan said gruffly, jerking his head toward the corner.

You frowned as Peter shot you a quick, apologetic grin before hurrying off to join Logan. Something about the exchange felt... off. Logan had been acting strange ever since your conversation earlier, and now Peter seemed jittery too.

“Logan?” you called after them, but neither turned back.

Curiosity gnawed at you as you debated whether to follow. Ultimately, you decided to let it go—for now. Whatever they were discussing, it could wait.

---

“What’s goin’ on, kid?” Logan asked, his tone low as Peter reached him. He glanced over Peter’s shoulder to make sure you hadn’t followed.

Peter shifted uncomfortably, his usual confidence faltering under Logan’s intense gaze. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding... crazy, but—does something feel... wrong to you? Like, about all of this?”

Logan crossed his arms, his expression hardening. “You pickin’ up on that too?”

“Yeah,” Peter admitted. “I mean, I wasn’t gonna say anything because it’s, like, Wanda. And she’s scary enough when she’s not messing with reality, but now... I don’t know, man. It’s like I can feel the edges of it. Like it’s all just... holding together by duct tape or something.”

Logan nodded slowly. “You’re not wrong. This whole thing—it ain’t real. It’s Wanda’s doin’. She created all this.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “So, what do we do? I mean, if it’s not real, we can’t just—”

“We’re not doin’ anything yet,” Logan interrupted, his voice firm. “First, we gotta figure out how deep this goes. She’s got Y/N wrapped up in it, convinced it’s all sunshine and rainbows.”

Peter’s face fell. “Does Y/N know?”

Logan let out a frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair. “She knows what I told her, but Wanda’s got her so tied up in this illusion, she doesn’t wanna believe it. Thinks maybe this is better than the real thing.”

Peter hesitated, glancing back toward the direction you’d gone. “Do you think she’s right? About it being better, I mean.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his voice dropping to a near growl. “No. ‘Cause when this all comes crashin’ down, it’ll hurt her worse than losin’ it the first time. And I’m not lettin’ that happen.”

Peter nodded, his usual quips forgotten in the weight of the moment. “Alright. Just tell me what you need me to do.”

“For now? Keep this between us,” Logan said. “And keep an eye on her. If Wanda tries to mess with her head again, you let me know.”

“You got it,” Peter said, his tone more serious than Logan was used to hearing.

Logan clapped a hand on the kid’s shoulder. “Good. Now get outta here before she gets suspicious.”

Peter gave a quick salute and took off down the hallway, leaving Logan alone with his thoughts.

---

When Logan finally made his way back to your shared room, he found you sitting on the edge of the bed, your arms wrapped around your knees. You looked up as he entered, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Hey. What was that about with Peter?”

“Kid just had some questions,” Logan said, brushing off the topic as he closed the door behind him.

“Uh-huh,” you said, your tone skeptical. “And you couldn’t have answered them in front of me because...?”

Logan sighed, running a hand through his hair as he moved to sit beside you on the bed. “It wasn’t anything important, sweetheart. Just somethin’ about training.”

You studied him for a moment, your gaze searching his face. “You’ve been acting weird ever since we talked about Wanda earlier. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Logan hesitated, his instincts warring with his desire to protect you. Finally, he let out a heavy breath. “Darlin’, I told you everything I know. This ain’t real. But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop tryin’ to keep you safe.”

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “I’m not scared, Logan. Whatever this is, we’ll figure it out together. Okay?”

He looked at you, his heart aching with the weight of everything he couldn’t say. Instead, he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Yeah, okay,” he murmured.

But deep down, he knew the fight was far from over.

---

The illusion Wanda created was starting to fracture, but only those closest to her could see it. To everyone else, it was as if the world had always been this way—serene, idyllic, perfect. For Logan, it was anything but. He watched carefully, taking note of small inconsistencies no one else seemed to notice: the same bird flying in the same pattern every morning, children laughing at nothing, and the way the sun never seemed to fully set, as though Wanda didn’t have the energy to finish the day.

He wasn’t the only one noticing. Erik, though far subtler in his observations, had begun pulling Wanda aside more often, his sharp gaze never leaving her. Meanwhile, the Avengers who were scattered across this fabricated utopia seemed to be... different. Thor had grown quieter, almost distant, his booming laugh no longer ringing through the mansion. Natasha occasionally paused mid-conversation, her expression going blank for a moment before she’d snap back to herself. Steve? He smiled too much, too wide, like he was trying to convince himself this world was real.

But for you, things had only grown more complicated.

---

The evening light filtered through the mansion's wide windows, painting everything in golden hues. You sat on the couch, flipping through an old book. Logan entered, his steps heavy, his expression unreadable. You glanced up, offering him a soft smile.

“Hey, darlin’,” he said, his voice low as he settled beside you.

“Hey yourself,” you replied, setting the book down. “Rough day?”

“You could say that.” He hesitated, his gaze drifting toward the window. “You ever feel like somethin’ ain’t right? Like... this place, this whole damn thing, is holdin’ its breath?”

You frowned. “Logan, we’ve talked about this. I know you’re still adjusting—”

“Adjustin’?” he cut in, his tone sharper than he intended. “This ain’t about me. It’s about you. About what’s real and what ain’t.”

You stiffened slightly, your heart sinking. “Logan, we’ve been through this. I am real. I don’t know why you keep doubting that.”

“Because this world ain’t real, sweetheart,” he said, his frustration clear. “It’s Wanda’s doin’. And I think, deep down, you know that too.”

You shook your head, your voice rising slightly. “So what, you think I’m just... some figment of her imagination? That I’m not really here?”

“I think she brought you back,” he said softly, his eyes locking onto yours. “But not like you think. And now it’s all startin’ to fall apart.”

You wanted to argue, to insist that he was wrong, but his words planted a seed of doubt that you couldn’t shake. “If this world is falling apart,” you said carefully, “then why are we still here? Why is Wanda still holding it together?”

“Maybe she’s tryin’ to keep you,” he replied. “Maybe you’re the reason she did all this in the first place.”

The air between you grew heavy, and for the first time, you found yourself unable to meet his gaze.

---

Elsewhere in the mansion, the cracks in reality were becoming impossible to ignore.

In the kitchen, Storm froze mid-motion, a glass slipping from her hand and shattering on the floor. She blinked rapidly, confusion washing over her face. “Where... where am I?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Tony Stark stood in the hallway, staring at a photo on the wall. In it, he stood beside Steve, Thor, and Natasha, all of them smiling. But the faces in the photo shifted subtly, warping into something unrecognizable before snapping back to normal. “Friday,” he murmured, though his AI didn’t respond. “What the hell is going on?”

And then there was Charles. He sat in his study, his hands pressed to his temples as he tried to focus. “Wanda,” he whispered, his voice strained. “You need to stop this. It’s breaking.”

But Wanda, standing in her room, refused to listen. Her fingers trembled as she clutched a framed photo of you, her lips moving in a silent mantra. “It’s perfect. It has to stay perfect. They deserve this.”

The glow of her magic pulsed erratically around her, and for a moment, the world flickered. The colors dulled, the mansion creaked as if it were alive, and the faint sound of static buzzed in the air.

---

You found Wanda as she exited Billy and Tommy’s shared bedroom, her steps hesitant as she moved down the hall toward the library. Her fingers twitched at her sides, and her expression was distant, like she was lost in a storm of thoughts. You called out to her, your voice firm, cutting through the silence.

“Wanda.”

She froze mid-step, her shoulders tensing before she turned to face you. Her eyes darted to the floor for a moment, then back to you. “Y/N,” she said softly, her voice careful. “What are you doing up? It’s late.”

You crossed your arms, holding your ground. “I could ask you the same thing. What were you doing in the boys’ room?”

Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she stepped closer, her tone soothing. “I was just checking on them. Making sure they were okay.”

“Don’t,” you said sharply, taking a step back. “Don’t try to brush me off like that. We need to talk.”

“About what?” she asked, though you could see the flicker of apprehension in her eyes. “Is something wrong?”

You clenched your fists at your sides, willing yourself to stay calm. “Logan told me. About all of this. About what you’re doing. And I want the truth, Wanda—not some carefully constructed excuse. No wiping my mind, no distractions. Just tell me.”

Wanda’s lips parted as if to respond, but she faltered, her gaze dropping to the floor again. Her silence was answer enough. You took a shaky breath, pushing past the lump in your throat.

“It’s true, isn’t it? None of this is real.”

“It’s real,” she said quickly, her voice laced with desperation. “It’s real because I made it real. I did this for you, Y/N. For them.” Her hands gestured vaguely toward the hallway, where Billy and Tommy’s room was.

“And Vision,” you added quietly. The name hit her like a slap, and her expression crumpled for a brief moment before she steeled herself again.

“For all of us,” she whispered.

You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “No. You didn’t do this for all of us, Wanda. You did this for you. Because you couldn’t let go.”

Her breath hitched, and she took a step closer. “You don’t understand. You—you died, Y/N. Do you remember that? How helpless I felt when you—when I couldn’t—” She broke off, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions.

“I know I died,” you said, your voice steady despite the knot in your stomach. “Logan told me. But that doesn’t justify this.”

“You don’t understand,” she repeated, her tone defensive. “You don’t know what it was like to lose you. To lose them. It was too much, Y/N. I couldn’t—I couldn’t do it.”

Your heart twisted at the pain in her voice, but you refused to let it cloud your judgment. “So you decided to rewrite the world instead? To play god and pull us all into your grief? Wanda, you can’t keep doing this. You’re hurting everyone, including yourself.”

Her hands trembled as she reached for you, but you stepped back again. Her face crumpled, and for the first time, the cracks in her façade were fully visible.

“I didn’t mean for it to go this far,” she admitted, tears welling in her eyes. “I just wanted us to have a chance. To have peace.”

“Then show me,” you said, your voice softer now. “Show me what happened. How I died. I need to see it, Wanda.”

Her eyes widened, and she shook her head. “No. I can’t do that to you. It’s too much—it’ll hurt you.”

“I don’t care,” you said firmly. “I deserve to know. I need to know.”

Wanda hesitated, her hands clenching at her sides. “Y/N, please��”

“Please, Wanda,” you interrupted, your voice cracking. “If you care about me at all, you’ll show me.”

For a long moment, she said nothing. Then, with a shaky breath, she nodded. “Alright. But... I’m sorry.”

---

You and Logan were eating leftovers that Ororo had made earlier in the day—the two of you had been… preoccupied with something else during dinner time.

“We could go to that Chinese place you’ve been wantin’ to go to.” Logan said.

“After we go to the bookstore?” you asked sweetly, leaning back in your chair. “I want to see if they have that book I’ve been wanting.” You rolled your shoulders again, wincing slightly as a dull ache pulsed between your shoulder blades.

Logan, sitting across the table from you, gave you a look. “Still feelin’ that?” he asked, his tone sharp with concern.

You waved a hand dismissively. “It’s probably just from sitting weird or something. I’ll stretch later—it’ll be fine.”

“Darlin’, you’ve been complainin’ about that for days. And that stomach pain you had last night? Maybe you oughta talk to Jean, just to be safe.”

You sighed, a bit exasperated. “I will, Logan. Tomorrow morning, before we head out, okay?”

He didn’t look entirely convinced, but he gave a short nod. “Good. I ain’t takin’ chances with you.”

You smirked, rising from your chair with your plate in hand. “What, suddenly all cautious? Didn’t seem that way earlier when we were—”

Logan gave a low growl, his expression softening into an amused grin. “Keep talkin’, sweetheart. See where it gets ya.”

You laughed, placing the plate in the sink and rinsing it off. Over your shoulder, you teased, “Maybe I’ll save that for later. You know, give you something to look forward to.”

“You’re somethin’ else,” he muttered, shaking his head, though his lips twitched upward. You could feel his eyes on you as you moved to the fridge and grabbed two beers, popping the caps off on the counter.

“You want your usual toast to Ororo for dinner?” you joked, turning back to him with a beer in hand. “Something like ‘thanks for makin’ us look bad in the kitchen’?”

“Funny,” he deadpanned, reaching for the beer as you handed it to him. “You should quit physics and take up comedy.”

Before you could reply, a wave of dizziness washed over you, sudden and disorienting. Your vision blurred, and the edges of the room seemed to darken. The beer bottle slipped from your grasp, shattering on the floor as you staggered back.

“Y/N?” Logan’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and alarmed.

You tried to steady yourself, but your legs gave out, and you crumpled to the floor. Your chest tightened painfully, the ache between your shoulder blades now radiating outward like fire. You could barely hear Logan as the room tilted further into darkness.

“Jean!” Logan bellowed, his voice raw with panic. He was at your side in an instant, his hands trembling as he tried to rouse you. “Darlin’, stay with me. C’mon, open your eyes!”

Footsteps pounded down the hall, and then Jean and Scott burst into the kitchen. Jean dropped to her knees beside you, her fingers immediately moving to your neck to check for a pulse.

“Her heart’s stopped,” Jean said urgently, already positioning her hands on your chest. She began compressions without hesitation, her movements precise but desperate. “Scott, call 911. Now!”

Scott fumbled for his phone, his usually steady demeanor cracking as he dialed. “We need an ambulance at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. It’s an emergency—cardiac arrest.”

Logan hovered over you, his hands balled into fists as he fought the urge to intervene. “Jean, she—she just dropped. She said her back was hurtin’, her stomach—”

Jean cut him off, her tone firm. “Logan, give me space! Keep talking to her—she might still hear you.”

“Darlin’, you gotta fight this,” Logan rasped, his voice breaking. “You hear me? You ain’t quittin’ on me, not now. Not ever.”

The minutes stretched agonizingly, Jean alternating between compressions and breaths while Scott relayed information to the dispatcher. Finally, you gasped—a ragged, shallow breath that made Jean sit back in relief.

“She’s back,” Jean said, though her voice was tight with worry. “But we need to get her to the hospital. There’s something—”

Before she could finish, the sound of sirens cut through the air, and the paramedics arrived. They worked swiftly, loading you onto a stretcher and carrying you out, Logan never leaving your side until they pushed him back to allow the medics room to work.

At the hospital, hours passed in a tense blur. Jean, Scott, and Logan paced the waiting room, the latter practically wearing a groove into the floor. When a doctor finally emerged, Logan surged forward, his expression dark with worry.

“She’s stable, for now,” the doctor said carefully. “But she experienced a significant cardiac event. We’re running tests, but it appears to be hypertrophic cardiomyopathy—an undiagnosed condition.”

“And what the hell does that mean?” Logan demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

“It means her heart’s working overtime. There’s thickening in the walls, and it likely led to her arrest,” the doctor explained. “She’ll need monitoring and possibly surgery to prevent future complications.”

But you never made it that far. Two hours later, as Logan sat by your side, clutching your hand in his, the monitors began to wail. Your heart stopped again. The staff rushed in, pushing Logan aside as they tried to revive you.

This time, you didn’t come back.

---

Your eyes opened with a sharp gasp, the room spinning as you met Wanda’s tear-streaked face. Her red, glowing irises flickered and dimmed as her powers pulled back, leaving her looking more broken than you’d ever seen her. The weight of what you’d just witnessed crushed your chest—it felt too real, too vivid to be anything but the truth.

“I didn’t even get to say goodbye,” Wanda whispered, her voice trembling, the Sokovian accent she’d long suppressed slipping through as her emotions bled into every word. Her hands hovered near you, like she wanted to comfort you but didn’t know if she deserved to.

You blinked rapidly, trying to steady your breathing as the memory of your death burned in your mind. The ache between your shoulder blades and the tightness in your chest felt so fresh, so real, it was hard to remember you were sitting in front of Wanda, not in a hospital bed.

But there was no time to focus on yourself. You sat up straighter, your voice trembling but firm. “Wanda, this has to stop.”

She flinched like you’d slapped her. “No,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “You don’t mean that. You can’t mean that, Y/N.”

“I do,” you said, meeting her gaze, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. “I’m dead, Wanda. I died. And nothing you do can change that.”

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” she insisted, her voice rising, more desperate now. “I fixed it. I brought you back—I brought all of you back. Billy, Tommy, Vision—they’re here, Y/N. We can all be together, like it was supposed to be.”

“Wanda,” you said sharply, cutting her off. “This isn’t real. You didn’t fix anything. You’re just… avoiding it.”

“No!” she cried, her voice cracking. “I gave us a second chance. Isn’t that what you’d want? To see Logan again? To see the boys smiling and safe? Don’t you want this?”

Your heart twisted at the anguish in her words, but you couldn’t let it sway you. “Of course I want that. Of course I want to be with Logan, with all of you. But not like this. Not if it’s a lie.”

She stared at you, her chest rising and falling rapidly as her breathing grew uneven. “Why does it matter if it’s a lie?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “It feels real, doesn’t it? It’s real enough.”

“It matters because it’s hurting you, Wanda,” you said, your voice softening. “And it’s hurting everyone else, too. Logan knows, doesn’t he? And Erik? They’re just as trapped as you are.”

Her lips trembled, and she looked away, unable to meet your eyes. “They don’t understand,” she muttered. “They think they do, but they don’t. Erik has lost people before. Logan… he’s lost you more times than I can count. But it’s different when it’s your children, Y/N. You don’t know what that’s like.”

You hesitated, the weight of her grief pressing down on you. “No,” you admitted quietly. “I don’t. But I know what it’s like to love someone so much it hurts. And I know that love means letting go sometimes, even when it’s the hardest thing in the world.”

Her shoulders shook, and she hugged herself, as though trying to keep from falling apart. “I can’t let go,” she said, her voice so small it was almost swallowed by the silence. “I can’t lose you again. Or them. Or Vision. I can’t.”

“Wanda,” you said, your voice firm but kind. “You already lost us. I’m gone. Vision’s gone. Billy and Tommy… they were never real to begin with.” You reached out, touching her arm gently. “This isn’t peace. This is a prison you built for yourself.”

Her tears fell freely now, and she covered her face with her hands, her sobs shaking her whole body. You stood, closing the distance between you and pulling her into a hug. She stiffened at first, but then she crumpled against you, clutching your shirt like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered brokenly. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know,” you murmured, stroking her hair gently. “But it’s time to let go. It’s time to set things right.”

She pulled back just enough to look at you, her expression conflicted. “But if I let go… you’ll be gone.”

You smiled sadly, brushing a tear from her cheek. “I’ll always be with you, Wanda. But you have to let me go. You have to let all of us go.”

Her lip quivered, and she nodded slowly, though it looked like it physically hurt her. “I don’t know if I can do it,” she admitted.

“You can,” you said firmly. “You’re stronger than you think.”

Wanda closed her eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath. When she opened them, they glowed red again, her powers swirling to life around her. The walls of the room seemed to shift and crack, and the sound of children laughing echoed faintly before fading away.

“I love you, Y/N,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the tears in her eyes.

“I love you too,” you replied, squeezing her hand one last time before the world dissolved into light.

---

Logan walked to the library, his heavy boots echoing in the quiet hallways of the mansion. His hands were shoved deep in his jacket pockets, fists clenched tight. He could feel the tension in the air—a crackling weight that made his skin itch. It wasn’t just Wanda’s doing; it was him, too. He couldn’t sit back anymore. Not when he knew what was at stake.

Halfway there, Erik stepped into the hallway, his broad frame blocking Logan’s path. His expression was unreadable, but there was something sharp in his gaze.

“Outta the way, Erik,” Logan growled, his voice low and steady.

“You can’t confront her now,” Erik said, his tone just as calm, but there was a warning there. “It’s too fragile. If you push her too hard, this entire illusion could collapse violently. Do you want to hurt her more than she’s already hurting?”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his teeth grinding as he stepped closer. “This illusion is hurtin’ her. Hurtin’ all of us. She’s gotta let it go. You know that as well as I do.”

Erik didn’t move. “And if she can’t? If you force her hand and she snaps? This isn’t just about you or me or even her. Think about the others—Billy, Tommy, Vision. They’re as real to her as the air she breathes.”

Logan’s eyes darkened, a flicker of pain crossing his face. “Don’t think I don’t know that. But I lost her once. Hell, I’ve lost her more times than I can count. I ain’t gonna lose her to some damn fantasy.”

Erik’s eyes narrowed, his voice dropping. “She created this because she lost too. She’s clinging to what little she has left. Are you really ready to take it all away?”

Before Logan could respond, the walls around them began to tremble. The faint sound of children laughing echoed through the hallway, followed by a low hum of static. Logan’s sharp eyes flicked around, taking in the cracks spreading along the edges of the illusion.

“Looks like it ain’t up to me anymore,” Logan muttered, his voice grim. He pushed past Erik, who didn’t stop him this time.

As Logan stormed toward the library, the tremors grew stronger. The pristine walls of the mansion shimmered, flickering between their familiar design and something darker, rawer. By the time Logan reached the library doors, he could hear crying and hushed reassurances.

He opened the door to find you and Wanda kneeling on the ground, the former holding onto you tightly as her hands glowed red.

You looked over at Logan as the world around you shimmered red and mouthed “I love you” right before everything went white.

As the shining light faded away, the mansion reappeared around them, quiet and still. Wanda knelt on the floor, her arms outstretched toward the air where you had been moments before. Her hands fell limply through the space, trembling as she stared at the emptiness in front of her. The tears on her cheeks glistened faintly in the flickering light.

Logan stepped into the room, his heavy boots echoing against the hardwood floor. His jaw was clenched tight, his eyes dark with fury and heartbreak as he took in the sight of Wanda. She was a shadow of herself—broken, sobbing, and clutching at nothing.

“Wanda,” Logan growled, his voice low and menacing.

She flinched at the sound, her red-glowing eyes darting up to meet his. Her lips trembled, and she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Logan didn’t hesitate. He closed the distance between them in three long strides, his hands grabbing Wanda by the arms and yanking her to her feet. He slammed her back against the nearest bookshelf, the impact shaking loose a few books that thudded to the ground. His claws extended with a sharp snikt, the shining adamantium glinting dangerously as he pressed them to her throat.

“Why?” he snarled, his voice rough and ragged. “Why’d you bring her back, just to tear her away from me again?”

Wanda gasped, her hands coming up instinctively to grip his wrists. “Logan,” she choked out, her voice strained. “I—”

“No,” he snapped, cutting her off. His claws twitched, close enough to graze her skin. “You don’t get to explain it away. You don’t get to justify this. You knew what you were doin’, and you did it anyway.” His voice cracked, the raw pain bleeding through. “You brought her back, Wanda. I saw her. I held her. And now she’s gone again.”

Tears streamed down Wanda’s face as she shook her head frantically. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she whispered. “I just—I couldn’t—”

“Couldn’t what?” Logan barked, his voice rising. “Let go? Face the truth? You think you’re the only one who’s lost her? I’ve been losin’ her for centuries, Wanda. Over and over again. And every goddamn time, it breaks me. But this—” He gestured around the room with his free hand, his claws still hovering at her neck. “This was worse than any of it. This was cruel.”

Wanda sobbed openly now, her body trembling against the bookshelf. “I just wanted to fix it,” she said, her voice cracking. “I wanted us all to have a second chance—Billy, Tommy, Vision… you. I thought if I could bring her back, you’d be happy again. I thought it would make everything right.”

Logan let out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp and cutting. “Happy? You think this made me happy? Watchin’ her slip away again? Watchin’ her know what was happenin’ and still tryin’ to make you feel better?” His claws retracted suddenly with a metallic hiss, and he stepped back, releasing her roughly.

Wanda sagged against the bookshelf, her hands clutching at her chest as though trying to hold herself together. “I didn’t mean for it to happen like this,” she whispered. “I didn’t know it would fall apart.”

“You didn’t think,” Logan spat. “You didn’t care. You were so wrapped up in your own grief, you didn’t stop to think about what it’d do to the rest of us. Erik told me not to push you. Said you’d snap if I did. But guess what, Wanda? You already snapped. And you dragged us all down with you.”

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with desperation. “I just wanted her back,” she said, her voice barely audible. “I wanted all of you back.”

Logan’s face softened slightly, the anger giving way to the raw ache beneath. He sighed, dragging a hand down his face as he tried to steady himself. “I get it,” he said quietly. “More than you know. But what you did—it ain’t right, Wanda. It ain’t real. And it ain’t fair to her or any of us.”

Wanda nodded slowly, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. “I’ll fix it,” she said shakily. “I’ll make it right.”

“You better,” Logan said, his voice low and dangerous. He turned on his heel, heading for the door. But before he left, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder. “One more thing,” he added. “Don’t ever use her like that again. Not for your pain. Not for anything.”

And then he was gone, the echo of his footsteps fading into the silence.

Wanda sank to the floor, wrapping her arms around herself as she sobbed. She had thought she was giving everyone a gift, but now she saw it for what it was—a prison of her own making, one that had only brought more pain.

In the distance, Logan stalked down the hallway, his mind swirling with the memory of your voice, your touch, your final words. I love you.

He clenched his fists, his claws threatening to break through again as he let out a low growl. Wanda might fix the mess she’d made, but nothing would erase the weight of losing you again. Not this time. Not ever.

first, i just wanna say thank you to dr. mike for teaching me that when someone goes into cardiac arrest you should immediately start chest compressions, chest compressions, chest compressions! (iykyk)

also, i know this is not an accurate representation of the 'house of m' storyline, but it's somewhat close? right? anyways, i think the next one of these is gonna be the logan movie, so buckle up!

[thewertsearch]

Alright, there’s a lot going on in this room.

First of all, it’s clear that the Betty Crocker Corporation has supplanted more than just Skaianet. This woman's been stamping her name on chests, cutlery, computers, calendars, and even Fetch Modi, so her company is more like an unholy fusion of Skaianet, Google and Amazon.

I'd give it a week before she pulls a Musk, and rebrands this abomination as 'C' - assuming she hasn't already done so.

Second of all, I initially thought this wall of blue hunks was advertising Jane's tastes, but upon closer inspection, each of them bears a signature in the Pen-Pal's color.

His older self did have a strange fixation on blue women, and apparently it's etched into his DNA.

Your name is JANE. As was previously mentioned, you are poised for an ELITE OPPORTUNITY to test the SBURB ALPHA. It is so elite in fact, you are the only of your kind invited to playtest!

Jane is the only member of her 'kind' to be given a copy of Sburb, which implies that there are other kinds of people on this version of Earth. Crocker is confirmed to not be a human, so maybe the planet is also populated by whatever kind of creature she is.

Though you guess that probably comes with the territory of being the HEIRESS APPARENT TO A BAKED GOODS EMPIRE. You don't suppose it hurts that you are said empire's NUMBER ONE FANGIRL, either!

She practically worships the Crocker megacorporation - and even worse, she's being raised to lead the damn thing. Jane might actually be starting out as an antagonist to our original heroes, completely unaware that she's being shaped into a weapon against them.

In short: Jesus Christ, Jane. We need to get you out of here.

You fancy yourself a SKILLED PRANKSTRESS, if by no other measure than lineage.

I guess Nannasprite's mischievous nature wasn't derived solely from the jester doll.

It's sweet to imagine Jane learning the prankster's arts from her Grandpa John - but I am extremely worried for Grandpa John right now, so I can't even enjoy it.

You once dabbled in AMATEUR BOTANY but found it TOO FRUSTRATING, because your VEGETABLES KEPT DISAP-actually you know what, you DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT.

Growing pumpkins is every horticulturist's first mistake.

You are also pleased to contemplate FRIGHTENING FAUNA, though saddened by their regrettable FAKENESS ATTRIBUTE.

Flora and fauna. I was waiting to see a little of each Player's personality before making Title guesses, and Jane's evoking Life to me, just as her pervious incarnation did.

Now, that would break the apparent rule that Scratch-swapped Players preserve the session's original Aspects, but that rule hasn't been confirmed yet. Plus, Life might just be my Aspect, so I'd love to see it become more prominent in the story.

But none of that's on your mind now, because you are PSYCHED about this SPECIAL DATE, 11.11.11 [...] a date exhibiting just the sort of numerical gimmick corporations love to exploit for their big releases, or for launching MAJOR REBRANDING INITIATIVES. In the case of your CHERISHED MULTIGLOBAL EMPIRE, both such events are slated to happen today.

Wow, so Betty Crocker is already operating on multiple planets?

The more we see of this Earth, the more obvious it becomes that it's nothing like the world our heroes left behind. Everything has changed.

[foolishmortal]

I am no fan of TikTok, but this ban is not addressing the issues people have with that app. Misinformation and deliberately addicting, damaging content algorithms are valid concerns. What we need here is more regulation, something that the Republicans are notoriously allergic to. This sort of regulation would also set a precedent to go after other US-based companies that do the same thing (see Facebook's recent removal of their fact checking policies), which Big Tech and silicon valley will attempt to avoid at all costs by throwing a competitor under the bus and blaming it for all the sins in the world.

Tying these concerns to a specific actor, instead of to the system at large, will do absolutely nothing, unless the case against TikTok can be levied against other companies perpetuating the same bad behavior.

I'm an engineer not a corporate lawyer so I would love to hear from someone who is in that space, who may be able to look at the case in question against TikTok to see if using that as a precedent against other big Tech companies, is even possible. I personally doubt it, otherwise the rest of Big Tech would have lawyered up and protested against this.

There seems to be a general malaise on most of Tumblr about TikTok getting banned in the United States.

I understand the problems, "brain rot", whatever but- A government banning a social media app that opened the world for many people is legitimately scary and upsetting. Say what you want but, there are MANY global and local issues that would not have gotten the same traction, recognition, and outreach without TikTok.

And then add to this that Meta/Facebook was one the largest lobbyists working to get TikTok banned... Like- I think folks should be more concerned about the implications of what this means, especially since the ban goes into effect the day before inauguration.

[starkwlkr]

Not a request (at least, technically 🤭) but if you’d ever write something specific about Hugh and his wife sharing the screen in Deadpool and Wolverine, and their kid’s reactions, I’m absolutely down for that

i love you in every universe | hugh jackman

an: sorry for the long wait!! texas is freezing and i’ve been getting a bit sick :( but i hope you’re all doing well <3

New York

The Jackman kids were busy with their own lives, but when Olivia suggested a movie day, they all cleared their schedules for the rest of the day. Since you and the kids didn’t attend the world premiere of Deadpool and Wolverine and had yet to see it, your family decided it was a good idea to watch it together in the cinema.

As Olivia grabbed her popcorn tin that was handed to her, Reese and Alex tried their best at the claw machines in the small arcade. You were still deciding what type of candy to get while Hugh patiently waited.

“Look, peanut M&M’s, you love those.” Hugh pointed at the box of candy on display.

“Better grab two, Olivia always ends up stealing them from me.” You chuckle as Hugh does as he was told.

“I’m sad, they don’t have the wolverine popcorn bucket. I was hoping to use it for my Halloween candy this year,” Olivia joined the rest of her family, Reese and Alex had been unsuccessful in winning a prize. “It’s your head, can’t you call Kevin Feige and tell him to send me one?” Olivia poked Hugh’s arm.

“Sure.” Hugh playfully rolled his eyes and walked up to the counter to pay for his family’s snacks.

As he walked away, the kids began to whisper to you, asking if you were in the movie. And like always, they got nothing out of you.

“I’m not in this! I was literally at home with you guys!” You tried to tell them, but they weren’t convinced.

Once Hugh returned, your family made their way to the designated house and sat in their assigned seats. You always loved watching the previews so you made your family leave a couple minutes earlier than intended. After each preview, Olivia would say “I’m watching that” or “eh”.

There were a couple more people around you so when the lights dimmed, Alex made sure Olivia stopped talking.

For some reason, you were nervous and excited. This was the first time your family actually sat down together in the cinema and watched something you and Hugh worked on. The moment was too perfect, it was definitely a memory you never wanted to lose.

Olivia danced and bopped her head to the opening scene while Alex and Reese lightly laughed. You remember Hugh texting you something about a dance scene involving Deadpool.

As the film went on, you were excited to the reactions of your kids when your character showed up. It would be after Wade and Logan arrive to the cave and meet Elektra, Gambit, Laura and Blade. Your characters were from different teams, but that didn’t stop Deadpool/Ryan from making jokes about your real life marriage.

“Who brought us here?” Deadpool asked.

“That would be me.” A female voice said.

You and Hugh turned your heads to watch your kids’ reactions as Laura entered. Olivia was so happy to see Dafne back that she almost screamed of joy. The Spanish girl was like a sister to Olivia. Alex gasped as Laura revealed herself while Reese had the biggest smile on his face.

“Oh shit. Logan that’s her, that’s X-23,” Deadpool informed Wolverine. “She’s the one I told you about.”

Both Laura and Logan kept their gaze on each other. Olivia wiped a fake tear, whispering to her father that it was beautiful to see Laura back.

“Wait, is there by any chance a Mrs. Hugh Jackman back there?” Wade pointed to where Laura had just come out of.

“You have such a big mouth and irritating voice, red.”

The screen cut from Wade to your character, leaning against the doorway of the cave.

“Holy f—” Reese choked on his soda, popcorn tumbling from Alex’s lap.

“Mom?” Olivia whispered in disbelief.

“Oh my fucking mother of god,” Wade gasped at the sight of you. He slowly walked up to you and touched your face thinking you were a ghost or something from his imagination. You swatted his hand away immediately. “You’re real. Logan, it’s your wife!”

“I’m sorry? Who the fuck is Logan?” You asked.

“That grumpy old man back there, but this is huge for the social media edits! I can already picture them. Anyways, I’m assuming your three little ankle biters are running around somewhere,” Wade said in an Australian accent, looking around for your ‘children’. “Tell the mean one she owes me ten bucks.” He then turned to the camera and pointed at it. “You know what you did, you piece of-”

Olivia couldn’t help but burst out laughing. It had been years since she and Ryan made a bet and she had lost.

“Okay! Are you done?” You interrupted.

“No, but thanks for asking sweetie pie,” Wade patted your head. “This is an even bigger moment than the US government asking Steven Spielberg to direct the moon landing!”

Logan groaned. “Can you not do this right now?”

“No, I will absolutely do this right now,” Wade quipped. He turned back to you. “I mean, seriously, you and Logan? You’ve been dancing around each other for how many movies now? And Kevin Feige still hasn’t made it canon? Unbelievable!”

“He understands me!” Olivia whisper yelled. The small comment made the Jackman family laugh.

You sighed. “Please shut up.”

“You are being a negative Nancy! I’m giving the internet what they want!” He attempted to wink but couldn’t because he had his mask on. “I mean look at the tension, people! The chemistry! Forget will they, won’t they—they definitely already did. Three times!”

The kids laughed throughout the scene while you and your husband watched with smiles plastered on your faces. You couldn’t even remember why you were nervous in the first place. No matter what you did in your film career, the kids would love it.

[dangerousstrawberryshark]

Dad Jokes

🇺🇸Pairing(s) 🇺🇸→ Steve Rogers x Muted male reader ⚠️CW⚠️→ No major warnings besides a panic attack and corny dad jokes.  🇺🇸Rating🇺🇸→ Fluff 🇺🇸Requested🇺🇸→ Yes

🇺🇸Word Count🇺🇸→ 1.0k

🇺🇸Summary🇺🇸 → You were saved by Captain America during an attack but now you both were trapped inside a building from the rubble blocking the exits. You began suffering from a panic attack after getting flashbacks, and Steve jokes to make you smile. Even though they’re dad jokes.

You don’t know what’s going on. 

There you were, running errands in New York City, trying to complete them to return home to relax for the rest of the day. It was normal to leave the store with your notepad in hand in case someone didn’t understand sign language.

 You were walking down the sidewalk, shoulders brushing against the casual people with the constant sounds of cars driving by. In a bustling city filled with that signature ambiance known all over the world, a loud explosion is something you weren’t expecting to hear. 

Now, you were running among a panicking crowd. Piercing screams cut through the air, cars crashing into each other, and another explosion. Adrenaline was coursing through your body as you ran with the crowd. Then there was another explosion, but this time it was above you.

Turning to the right, the building across the street was struck. Large pieces of debris fell from the sky, impacting the ground as they fell everywhere. People's screams got louder as the building started collapsing, falling onto the street. 

Humans have the basic responses to dangerous situations; fight, flight, or freeze. Your body decided to freeze at that moment, watching as the large building was getting closer. Your breathing slowed down as it accepted your fate. 

Your life flashed before your eyes, especially ten years ago. Everything about this chaos was the same. Suddenly, you felt your body being pulled into a larger form, arms wrapped around you in protection as this mysterious man dragged you into another building. 

A loud crash rang through the air and a cloud of debris choked the air. Coming back to your senses, you began hyperventilating. Your ears rang as you looked around. There were other people, all of them scared. Some were coughing and crying, while others were on their phones, trying to contact their loved ones. 

Your heart rate got faster as tears started welding in your eyes. Nausea and dizziness were blocking your vision and you felt like dying. The ringing in your ears got louder as you held onto your head, but nothing was coming out of your mouth. The constant beating in your head and fast breathing was becoming too much to handle

‘This can’t be happening, I already lost my voice. I can’t lose my hearing!’ You screamed in your head, hoping that wasn’t going to be the case. 

You remember that day ten years ago. You were driving home when all of a sudden another car crashed into yours while turning left. Your ears rang while you were dragged out of the ruins and later transported to the hospital.

The doctors said you were alright but suffered from traumatic brain injury. The Broca's area of your left frontal lobe and the part of the brain responsible for speech production was permanently damaged,  rendering you unable to speak properly again. The emotions you felt that day were indescribable. 

It was happening again, you were having a panic attack. Your chest tightened, your heart beating too fast as the feeling of throwing up was coming up. Your eyes dashing all over the place, blocked by the debris dust as you coughed repeatedly. 

Suddenly, a large blonde man came into your view, hands holding onto your shoulders. You could feel him shaking your body, and his voice pierced through the constant ringing. “You’re okay, you hear me? Everything is going to be okay.” His rough voice can be heard as you snap out of your daze.

You nodded your head in response, but you were still having a panic attack. The mysterious man—who you now know is Captain America—began soothing you. The large man rubbed your back as he tried to calm you down. “Can you speak?” Steve said as he pulled back and sat down next to you.

Pulling out the notepad, you wrote down, “No.” Steve nodded in acknowledgment. There was a moment of silence beside the cries of the other people. You were still shaken up as you tried to control your breathing. 

“Hey, you wanna hear a joke?” Steve said as he smiled, waiting for your response. You nod and Steve tells the joke. “Why do melons have weddings? They elope… wait. No, I meant to say cantaloupe?” Steve says as he laughs before realizing he messed up the joke. You internally groaned at the corny joke but laughed at the stupidity.

“Okay, how about this one– Why can’t dinosaurs clap their hands? Because they’re extinct.” Steve said as he smiled. This goes on for a while as the blonde man tries to distract you from the situation. It was working as you were laughing or groaning from Steve’s corny dad jokes. 

“What’s blue and doesn’t weigh much? Light blue.”

“Where do you learn to make a banana split? Sundae school.”

“What cars do eggs drive? A yolkswagen.”

This went on for a couple of hours until the rubble blocking the main entrance was aggressively destroyed by the Hulk. People began cheering as they ran out. Steve gets up before holding out his hand for you. 

You grabbed his hand as he pulled you up and escorted you out of the building. You looked around, seeing the ruins of several buildings and burnt-out cars. Sirens and ambulance noises echoed through the air as there was an announcement playing on speakers, instructing the public on what to do.

“My name is Steve by the way. Maybe we’ll see each other soon. I hope we do.”

THE END

A/n: Hello, my strawberries! I never wrote reader being mute or having panic attacks, but I hope it's good! Very special thanks to my proofreader @sagethegaywitch 

TAGLIST: @hiddens-eden @spnfanboy777 @meyocoko @buckyshusband0 @zamfam4272 @raspberryyuuki @maxxioislost @furiousflowercreation

[ameliarating]

Thinking about the difference in KantBison's and FadelStyle's pronoun usage.

Kant and Bison have used consistently polite pronouns with each other (generally ผม and คุณ (pom and khun)) and I don't want to over-read here, because it's not uncommon for people in even very intimate relationships to use those.

But let's contrast with Fadel and Style who start out using polite pronouns but switch to impolite/intimate pronouns (กู and มึง (gu and meung)) towards the end of episode two in the locker room scene. Both of them in that scene stop pretending with each other. Fadel forces Style up against the lockers with a hand to his throat demanding to know "who sent [him]" and what he wants. Style tells him simply, "I like you."

And in that exchange their relationship changes linguistically and it never changes back. Likewise they very quickly begin revealing more and more about themselves, stripping themselves down, and giving more of themselves to each other in a very conscious, eyes wide open way that they're doing exactly that.

Even after Fadel finds out about the betrayal, nothing has changed for him in his feelings for Style and he seems to know that about himself. As for Style, well, Style just keeps on Styling.

Kant and Bison, however, keep hackles up. Kant obviously is desperately trying to not let what they have be real, all the while hoping to still make it feel very real. The two of them test each other, they dance around each other. They fall in love with each other but they each deny it. And by the time Kant is ready to admit to that love, Bison is telling himself he has no need for it. Kant spent a long time lying to himself and, not just to Bison, and now it looks like its Bison's turn.

Okay, but I was misleading at the top because as of the boat scene because while Kant hasn't changed, Bison uses กู and มึง (ku and meung)! Bison switches immediately as he comes out with the gun, aiming it at Kant. All lies and pretenses are stripped away. He is bitter and full of anger and he is done pretending.

But Kant is sticking to polite pronouns as he struggles to reason with Bison. It's clear from the beginning of the boat scene that it's the ocean that's driving him outside his own head. He's too calm with Bison. It's the edge of a panic attack. It's dissociation and @ropebunnykant wrote an excellent bit on his state of mind there.

So Bison is shouting at him using the intimate/impolite pronouns but Kant responds perfectly politely. And you can see the wall he's trying to put up. And you can hear how Bison is trying to tear it down.

"I (ผม/pom) was forced to do it to you (คุณ/khun)."

"Who made you (มึง/meung)? Answer me (กู/gu)!"

All the way up to...

"I (ผม/pom) ... am afraid of the sea."

"That's your (กู/gu) problem."

[morgluvsconnie]

VOW, a.arlert

↜ CHAP.3 / no warnings ! / CHAP.4

A/N / hiiii , i returned. i know it’s been a while so u might not remember what happend last chapter, sorry for that. but i’m back!!💕 (proofreading later)

“he invited you? girl, he want you.”

you ignored sasha’s nonstop comments about how “armin never does this” or “he would never do that”

“see, when he was with annie-”

“sasha,” you grabbed her hand and walked through the stands with her, excusing yourself in front of people. “i love you. but ion really care.” you sat down, fixing your skirt and putting your snacks between you both.

sasha pout her lips and looked at you. “but how would you know what to look out for?”

“i don’t like armin, how many times..?” you trailed off, rolling your eyes and looking at the ceiling.

“but he likes you. tryna tell you.” she raised her brows and grabbed her nachos, leaning back. “look, there he is.” she leaned her head towards where the basketball team entered the gym.

and yes, there he was, number three. smiling as most of the students and others screamed his name.

you clapped along for him, a small smile creeping onto your lips.

basketball wasn’t your thing, really. sports weren’t. but for armin, you guessed you’d to go the game anyway.

“you know the look on his face when he heard you were coming?”

“God, sasha.”

sasha’s eyes widened and she sat up, turning towards you. “no, really! he was all blushy and nervous and shit. he didn’t think you’d come.”

“i told him i was coming.” you shrugged, tucking your hands between your thighs at the temperature of the gym.

“you know how you talk— the tone you use. you always sound sarcastic.” sasha grabbed her soda, taking big sips.

when the game started, the only thing you watched was the scoreboard, armin, and sasha when she ate too quickly.

“number fourteen, that’s my ex, such a slut.” she shook her head, making you laugh. “on the other team, right?” you asked. pursing her lips together, sasha slowly shook her head. “no, no, our team.”

your expression dropped and you squinted. “he is.. ugly. as hell.”

with a shrug, sasha looked forward at the court and watched the game carefully, tilting her head a little against her shoulder.

you leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees and your chin in your palm.

the scores were awfully close as time passed, but you couldn’t help but notice the change in the team and coaches demeanor. the frowns on the players faces, pushes and shoves towards armin, told you everything.

you assumed he didn’t like someone on the opposite team, because he kept fouling. foul after foul, push after push. and being benched for it seemed to piss him off even more.

“why he actin like that?” you frowned a little, adjusting to your position. sasha shook her head. “he always does that shit. when we play against this team, he always gets in some shit with reiner.”

“reiner…” you tried to think about the name, but nothing clicked. you then shook your head. “don’t know who that is.”

“he used to go here like… i dunno. but since highschool. he was fucking with armin over stupid shit, i really don’t know.” sasha sighed.

she sat up. “but i’m sick of them taking that shit to the court, that’s exactly why the game gets canceled, every single time.”

you analyzed armin carefully, biting your cheek and staying silent for a second. “i never seen em get mad before. armin, i mean.”

sasha scoffed. “you’ve only known him for awhile, he gets real pissy when he gets mad.” she rolled her eyes. “i’d hate to have to lecture him on his attitude again.”

you couldn’t do anything but stay silent, taking consideration for the fact that you really didn’t know armin.

as time reached the end of the game, there were two minutes left. sasha decided to leave earlier because of a home emergency. as much as you wanted to leave with her, you couldn’t help but stay.

walking out of the gym, standing against the wall on your phone, a couple more minutes passed.

you looked up to see most players walking out after changing their clothes, with their family, friends, or lovers.

‘where is he…?’ was the only thing you could think about.

“you think coach gon allow that shit on the court? you’ll be off the damn team before you finish our game.” you heard erens familiar, and annoying voice near the gym door.

looking up, you saw an irritated looking armin, who just stared back at you.

eren sniffed and nudged armins arm. “catch up witchu later.” he muttered before walking around you.

“you came.” was the first thing he said, slowly starting to walk towards the exit.

you hummed. “you asked.”

armin just stayed silent. by this time, the darkness set outdoors and the sun was barely able to be seen.

you cleared your throat as you both started to walk. “i hope youn got a ride… i planned on walking. and lord knows i can’t walk by myself.” you paused. “in the dark, that is.”

armin tossed his jersey over one shoulder and held his bag on the other. the silence set in. you figured he probably didn’t wanna talk because of what happened on the court.

he took a sip out of his water bottle and stared at the purple-ish, dark blue sky.

taking a deep breath, he exhaled and dropped his things, throwing his water bottle down, throwing his jersey down, everything.

you stopped in your tracks and looked back at him with a confused expression. “you good?”

armin stayed silent, sitting down on the sidewalk and resting his arms on his knees, letting his head hang.

you stood there, dumbfounded. truly.

because really, what was happening? and what could you possibly do? “armin.” you finally spoke, watching as he breathed calmly, softly scratching his head.

you sat beside him on the cold concrete, putting his things in his bag and zipping it up.

“i love that fuckin sport, man.” is all he muttered under his breath. but the quietness of the night helped you to be able to hear it. you’d be lying if you said you understood why he was acting like this.

you didn’t even know him long enough to know how to comfort him. but the bare minimum would be you at least trying.

you just stretched your legs and placed your hands on the concrete, staring at him before fixing your eyes to the ground.

“i mean, that shit get me away from everything.” he continued. “but i’m always fuckin up.” he drug his hands down his face with a long sigh.

“and then…” he trailed off. “i’m talkin to you outta all people about it. ‘just fuckin met you like two, three days ago.” he laughed at himself a little. you looked at him, not knowing if you should be offended or honored.

you truly wish you could comfort him, but you don’t know armin. not like sasha or any of his other friends know him.

“shits weak.” he finally looked up, clamping his hands together and resting his chin on them to look at the sky.

“ion think you messed up.” you looked at the sky along with him. “i think you just lost yo temper… and stuff. i don’t know.”

“you saw that.” armin side eyed you, shaking his head.

“i was there. who’s reiner?”

“a bitch.” armins head dropped again before he sighed and laid back on the concrete, using his bag to secure his head on. “a bitch, that’s mad about a bitch.” he paused. “i mean, a female.”

he realized you were a whole girl sitting beside him.

“geez, what happened?”

“i was with annie and reiner was with annie and what damn ever, it don’t matter.” he shook his head.

you remembered sasha telling you about annie — the type of person she was and whatnot — and truly, you didn’t know if you even wanted to meet the girl.

“so… you still like her?” you asked, pulling your knees to your chest and looking at armin with genuine curiosity.

armin frowned in confused. “who? annie?” he scoffed.

you stared, waiting for a reply.

armin, noticing, glanced at you and cleared his throat. “no.”

“why not?”

“manipulative, jealous, all the stupid shit. i think she cheated too. ‘m not gettin back wit her.” he sighed. “don’t you gotta go home? times passing.”

you checked your phone. 9:34.

biting your cheek, you slowly shook your head, contemplating on whether you wanted to leave armin by his self or stay with him.

“my parents won’t mind.” yes they would. “i’ll just go home later, whenever you do.” who knows how long that’ll take?

“i normally sit out here by myself but, shit, whatever.”

he curses way more than you last heard.

the silence washed over the both of you as you looked ahead. the only thing illuminating the night now was a streetlight you were under and the full moon.

“my bad, about yesterday.” he blurted out.

you stayed quiet, swallowing. “ion care about it.”

“no, i’m sorry, for real.” armin sat up and looked at you. “that was fucked up. ion know why ian say nothing sooner. to them.”

you heard some truth in his voice, but just nodded.

“it’s really whatever, armin.”

“no it’s not.”

you looked at him with a slight, frustrated frown. “you think i wanna talk about that right now? i just won’t be around them.” you said. “plus, arent we talkin bout you right now?”

armin pursed his lips and stood up.

“right.”

he grabbed his bag and put it across his shoulder. you stayed on the concrete.

“you gon sit there?”

“you’re already going home?” you look up at him.

armin stares down at you and blinks, tilting his head and shifting his weight to one hip. “i’m only just meeting you and you already actin stubborn.” he rests his eyes at you.

you groaned and stood up. “home aint exactly for me.”

you both started to walk again. “which means?”

checking the time on your phone again, 9:50. time was flying.

“it means i’d rather be anywhere but there.” you licked your lips, thinking about the things your mother would say when you walked in the house.

armin slowly nodded. “i feel ya.” his eyes rested on the concrete again. “i’m like that too. some shits just better… away from home.”

you bit your top lip. “you don’t understand, armin.” you shook your head. “but thanks for walking me.”

you stopped in your tracks as you stood in front of your house.

armin looked at your house, then you. “right. my bad. see you tomorrow.”

you started up your driveway, giving him a thumbs up.

“you too.”