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ficsilike-reblogged · 10 hours ago

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Shelter - 7

Summary: You saved Soap's life. And Laswell has news.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley/F!Reader (No use of Y/N)

Warnings For This Chapter: Continued military and safehouse inaccuracies, mentions and descriptions of suicide, canon typical violence/gore, guns, attempted accents, and more Soft!Simon

A/N: Thank you for all the love on the latest chapter. I treasure each and every comment and they really keep me motivated! Just three more chapters after this!

Previous Chapter

You spent a strange amount of time just poking at things in your room. There had been a secret door between rooms; surely there were other things for you to find. You’d given up on trying to nap after you stared uselessly at the ceiling for an hour, listening to the muted sounds of the city starting to wake and start the day. You were tired. Exhausted. Had been for weeks.

But you couldn’t sleep.

Couldn’t sleep because Simon had kindly offered to show you around a library. What was wrong with you? And how many times have you asked yourself that in the last handful of weeks? And you were so mad at yourself for wanting it. Wanting to see that library with Simon. You knew all of this was temporary. Even if they managed to kill or apprehend Makarov in a timely manner, where did that leave you?

He lived in the UK (when he wasn’t off somewhere around the world doing…whatever it is he does) and you had your life here in Chicago. Sort of. It wasn’t as if you had a job waiting for you. And your lease was nearing its end. And… You really needed to stop this train of thought. It would only hurt you. So, you turned over and shoved your face into the pillow and groaned before getting up and exploring your room a little more.

To your strange comfort, it seemed like your only surprise had been the door connecting your room to Simon’s. There were no secret compartments in your closet or bathroom. The one thing you did find was in the small drawer in the bedside table: a small red button tucked just inside. You knew better than to press it—red buttons usually meant trouble and you weren’t about to test your hypothesis when you finally had a small bit of peace.

Saving you from your boredom for a moment was a new text, chirping on your phone. It was a picture of Kirby and Pauline in the back of a car, bundled up and ready to go, the tiny yellow teddy bear tucked in beside the carrier. “Off on our first adventure!” The picture was probably taken by the post-partum doula or nanny Kirby had hired. Kirby had sent you heaps of potential resumes and then felt content with the two she’d narrowed it down to—and you’d felt a little more secure knowing she had help. She had steadfastly refused any other help you offered, telling you she was determined to do everything on her own. Were you nervous about that? Of course. But she had read every parenting book her doctor recommended, attended every single mothers’ birthing class, researched endlessly about each and every bit of furniture she could buy before purchasing, and went to extra therapy sessions biweekly ever since the situation with Julian blew up.

She’d have help and the money Julian coughed up would probably make everything a little easier. They’d be okay. You could be waiting in the wings if anything came up, and Kirby knew that. Kirby needed to be Kirby. And you needed to be okay with that.

Ugh. You did not need to be having all these emotions before breakfast. You typed out a quick, “love you guys!” message and deleted the perfunctory “stay safe!” you had first added and instead just added a single heart emoji. There. Nailed it.

As if on cue, your stomach rumbled. It had been a while since you’d eaten—a burger and one half of a chocolate bar you split with Kirby before dawn at the hospital hadn’t exactly been a complete breakfast. And thinking of the chocolate had you remembering Simon had been the one to buy it—not that you could ever forget any of this. Or him. And you knew it was stupid. Stupid to hope, to want…but you still found yourself going over to the hidden door and knocking. Maybe he’d get breakfast with you.

But the wall didn’t open and you tried to ignore how something ached in your chest because of it. Well, you could still get breakfast anyway. But first, you decided to give pilates another try, queueing up a workout on youtube and regretting it only a few minutes in. By the time you finished, your arms were shaking and your legs hated you but the shower felt nice. You slathered a bit more arnica cream across your throat when you finished. It would still take time for your neck to look normal, but the red in your eyes had steadily decreased.

You turned your attention to the extensive room service menu that had been tucked beside the sleek bedside table lamp and tapped your finger against the thick cardstock, mulling over your choices. You flipped the menu over, trying to make sure you knew all your options and instead found a small history of the hotel. Apparently it had always been “family owned” since its opening right before World War I. Interesting. Had it always been a safehouse? Either way, the matcha sounded good. Eggs Benedict, too. You ordered, feeling a little ridiculous—you’d never ordered room service before—but the person on the other end of the line was nice enough. It might have been the manager, but you weren’t entirely sure.

Your throat ached as you set the phone back in its cradle. All of the excitement yesterday definitely did a number on it all. Maybe tonight you’d actually sleep well… You weren’t going to hold your breath about that, though.

A knock sounded at your door a few minutes later (after Kirby had texted you back, another picture of Pauline, snuggled in her bassinet), it was probably your breakfast, but you still checked the peephole and felt a small bit of tension leave your shoulders when you recognized the manager on the other side.

She held out the covered tray with a smile. “Excellent choices, if I do say so.”

You returned her smile and took the tray, mouth watering a little at the smell of it. “I didn’t think you’d be the one to deliver it.”

She shrugged. “We don’t let just anyone up here. And the kitchen was busy anyway, two birds, one stone and all that.”

Briefly, you remembered how breezily she checked you all in, smiling at John the entire time. She really must have seen some stuff to not care that a known terrorist was looking for people who were hiding in her hotel. “Still, that was kind of you.”

She waved that away, too. “I’m sure Laswell said you could ask for anything,” she said, a knowing smile on her face.

“She might have said that to the guys.” Not to you. You were sure the no-nonsense woman you’d met back in the UK didn’t particularly want to think about you at all. You wouldn’t hold it against her; you hadn’t made the best of impressions.

She nudged her arm into yours. “Hate to break it to you, but you’re one of them right now. Maybe it’s just for now, maybe it’s just for a little longer, but for now, you are under my care and the hotel’s protection.”

A nervous laugh bubbled out of you. “Sounds like a bit of a steep promise.”

The manager shrugged. “It is. But my family’s been doing this for generations. I know how to keep you safe.” Her watch beeped before you could even attempt to process what she’d told you and she smiled again. “I’ve got to run. Please, enjoy your breakfast.” And then she was gone, disappearing down the hall and into the elevator.

What an enigma of a woman. Again, you thought of Price’s interactions with her. Just what had happened between them? Hmm. Oh well. Probably just another question you’d never get the answer to. You settled onto the overstuffed armchair in front of the giant television and tried not to think about the man on the other side of the wall.

Simon had spent an embarrassing amount of time staring at the hidden door that led to her room. Wondering if she actually fell asleep. Wondering if her short time with her sister and niece was enough to make her happy. Or settled. She’d once asked if he had anyone to get back to after all this was over. He didn’t. And after she had told him about what she had gone through, he thought about his own family. His mum. Tommy. Beth and Joseph. And for a moment, short and aborted, he thought about telling her what had happened to them. She might understand. There could be understanding there, instead of the pity anyone else who knew his story usually met him with. But, again, Simon pushed it away.

Pushed it down, ignoring how the thought echoed and ached.

But it didn’t really matter because Price called them all to his room, telling them that Laswell had called with news. That could have been good. But Simon knew better than to think this all would be over soon. And then a strange, selfish thought struck him, too, as he followed Kyle to Price’s room. This gave him more time with her. She’d been quiet after he offered to show her the library before he watched a small smile push at her perfect mouth. And he thought about it until Price had called them.

But any sort of hope was quietly stuffed away when Price fixed them all with that look that Simon knew well. And maybe he should have been expecting this. Something didn’t feel right. It was too quiet. Simon knew Makarov played the long game. But Laswell had been briefing them about how several more of his caches had been destroyed and more of his men had been killed but Makarov hadn’t been spotted. There was no chatter from him or about him despite Laswell, Farah, and Alex all hunting for him.

Laswell was waiting for them, videoing in on the laptop Price had set up on the small table in his room. Simon stood at the back, letting the others take the chairs closer to the laptop. Price turned toward Laswell, his mouth set in a thin line. “We’re here, Laswell. What do you have for us?”

Laswell sighed. “I found who leaked your location.”

“And?” Johnny said, leaning forward in his seat. He was chomping at the bit to get some sort of revenge. Their families had been targets. No doubt Johnny had wanted to make him feel exactly what his mother had felt. And Simon knew that he hated that she had been hurt. The feeling was mutual.

“He’s dead.”

“What do you mean he’s dead?” The question had an obvious answer but it needed to be asked, if Simon was being honest.

“I don’t know what else you want me to say.” Laswell shook her head. “The man I tracked down when I figured out who leaked where your team was located shot himself.”

Price looked at Simon who looked right back. “Confirmed, then.”

“I was the one who found him, John.” Her breath crackled over the line. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

No. She wouldn’t. But this still all stank of something he didn’t like.

“I’m still tracking down who he sent his intel to, but I hope to have news for you soon.”

It was someone Laswell had worked with, not necessarily trusted, but relied on in some capacity. That was a betrayal. A deep one. Shit.

The video disconnected soon after and they all seemed to just look at each other. Silently processing what they’d just learned, calculating their next move. What options did they have? Moves to be made. Risks assessed. Before any of them could voice their thoughts, the computer beeped again. Simon watched Price type in a code and then sigh.

“I need a bloody drink.” The captain rose, in search of the morning drink he wanted, and Simon slid into the chair he vacated.

Simon didn’t blame him for wanting a drink. That was an appropriate response. Laswell had sent over a batch of pictures from the leak’s apartment. Probably taken when she’d gone to confront him. He clicked through the pictures, trying to tell himself that this was one loose end tied up in a neat bow. But there was a voice at the back of his head that kept whispering that something wasn’t right. There was more to this than one man’s apparent greed and Makarov playing him for a fool. Simon stopped, pausing on one of the photos of the man, his head back against the edge of his computer chair with blood and bone and brain spattered behind him on the white wall.

Everything on the desk was neatly arranged. Stacked. Organized. Now marred by the mess of his death. And yes, Simon knew death was messy. Could be messy. But people sometimes took care to make sure it wasn’t. And the more he looked at the surrounding room, Simon surmised that this man was a person who would take care to make sure his death wasn’t messy.

It didn’t fit.

The bruising, exit wound, and spatter might match all the hallmarks of a man seeing no other way out after committing treason. But it didn’t fit.

Kyle stepped to his side and bent down, just enough to look at the photos and Simon could see him working through it, too. He knew he would. “Staged. Someone else pulled the trigger. Held the gun beneath his chin while he hoped he could talk his way out of it.”

Simon nodded. Kyle had put the pieces faster than he had, but Simon knew he would.

Johnny was quick to take his place on Simon’s other side, reaching over him to click through a few pictures. “Is Makarov in the States?”

Simon glanced back at the picture before shaking his head. “We would have heard. Laswell wouldn’t’ve let ‘im slip by like that.”

Kyle’s mouth pulled into a thin line as he stood straight, crossing his arms over his chest. “Then there’s another problem.”

Simon almost hated that he was right. All of this just meant it was even more complicated than they had previously thought. And it already was a fucking nightmare. “There’s another person on the inside.”

Kyle grimaced. “Covering their tracks.”

Price walked in, half-empty glass of whisky in his hand and eyed them all. “So you see it, too?”

“Seems like it. Wasn’t acting alone.”

“I have no doubt Laswell saw it, too.” The glass clinked as Price set it down on the window ledge. “But she’s playing it quietly. No confirmation on anything else until she has answers.”

Simon knew that was the wisest way to do this but it still grated at him.

“How high does this go?” Kyle asked. Simon could feel the rage radiating off of him. But he always kept a tighter leash on it than Simon did. It was something Simon respected about him, one of the many, actually. And it was why he trusted him so implicitly in and out of the field.

Johnny frowned and then turned abruptly toward Kyle. “The lass’ flat was untouched, wasn’t it? When ye went to get her stuff?”

Kyle nodded. “Everything seemed fine. Wasn’t exactly looking for cameras though.”

Simon nodded, too. And everything had been in its place. He wondered how long it had taken her to make it feel comfortable. Not home, exactly. But a place she knew she could rest her head, like his flat in Manchester.

“But that bastard knew her name, no? Nearly killed her at the hospital in London. Why would he leave her flat alone?”

Simon chewed on that thought. He did know her name. And while there might be other people with her name but Makarov—or at least one of his men—knew she was American. If they’d taken her purse, it wouldn’t be a stretch to imagine they knew where she lived. But why had her flat been untouched? “Laziness, possibly.”

“And he knew we were hiding her. She wasn’t going home.”

But that small fact was still a glaring part of the picture that someone knew they had been moving her.

“Do we move again?” Johnny asked.

“Moving us now would just confirm that we are here. And if it doesn’t, we are out in the open until we get to the next safehouse.”

“What other options do we have, Captain?” Kyle asked. But Simon didn’t miss the way his eyes went to him first. “She is still an asset and a target. We are still targets and Makarov is in the wind.”

Price leaned forward, mouth pulled into a flat line. “Way I see it, we can move and take our chances or we stay put and get ready.”

They didn’t like running. And the plan had always been to lure Makarov into a trap. Why couldn’t they do that here? And the silent looks between the men seemed to show their quiet agreement.

And then something whispered at the back of Simon’s mind. And then he remembered the curve of her lip. Her smile and the way she simply wanted to see her sister and her baby. “We need to tell her. Get ‘er ready for it.”

Price grimaced but didn’t refute Simon’s logic.

“She deserves to know. She’s in this with us.”

He nodded, but he didn’t look pleased about it. “If you think she can handle it.”

“She will.” Simon had watched her outmaneuver Johnny and fight like hell to live against a trained operative. She could handle a bit of book camp. He knew it.

“And the manager might want to know what’s happening. You seem to know her best, Captain. Want to break the news?” Kyle asked, face straight.

Price sighed.

You were on the last dregs of your matcha when you heard a sharp knock…on the wall. You turned and watched the hidden door open. Simon filled the space, broad shoulders brushing the sides—and no, that didn’t make your mouth water. He wasn’t even wearing any sort of gear, just a hoodie and loose joggers, swapping out the jeans he’d worn to the hospital with you and he looked better than ever. (Shut up!)

“C’mere, yeah?”

You frowned, not expecting the invitation, but stood anyway and let him shuffle you into his room.

It wasn’t that much different than yours. Same color scheme. Same layout. There was just one large, glaring difference. The closet door was open and the entirety was filled with weapons. Mostly guns, but you spied a few knives, too. There were also a few vests, that you surmised were kevlar or something along those lines. It really was a mini arsenal. This hotel kept surprising you.

Gaz and Soap were waiting inside as well and you resisted the urge to think the worst and smiled, feeling it twitch on your face. “Everything okay?” The stretched silence that followed only made your nerves start to fray, like overused yarn.

“Everything’s sorted,” Gaz said, arms folded neatly across his chest. And you wanted to believe him. You did. You could trust him and the others to protect you like they’d done before. But something wasn’t right.

You glanced at Simon, and he was already looking at you over the edge of another surgical mask. Your heart did an embarrassing little leap behind your ribs. And then you looked at Soap. There was a bit of calculation behind those unnervingly blue eyes. “C’mon, Soap. Out with it.”

He smiled, a bit of pink touching his cheeks. But the smile didn’t last long. “We’d like ta teach ye a few things.”

“Things?”

He nodded, overgrown mohawk flopping a bit. “Just in case.”

And those three words had your stomach sinking. “Something happened, didn’t it?”

“It’s just a precaution.”

And that was how you found yourself in the hidden firing range behind another false wall down the hall (apparently you had been right about there being more to your floor than a few rooms on this floor). It was entirely soundproof with a small sparring ring tucked behind it and another wall filled with guns and other weapons. No wonder the manager seemed so sure she could protect you. Kyle was patient as he adjusted your grip on the small handgun he said would be a good fit for you and patient still when your arms shook as you focused on the target. You didn’t like guns. But when he pressed, gently and kindly with hints of his megawatt smile, you promised to keep the gun in the drawer beside your bed. They were doing this to protect you. They liked you at least enough to try and give you a fighting chance. This was a kindness.

Soap was next but didn’t last very long. “Would ye like to learn how to make a bomb? Just a wee one.”

“No, thank you.” Jesus Christ.

To your surprise, Price walked into the large room next and then handed you…a crowbar. He taught you a few moves with it, telling you to aim for the neck if need be. “You might lose a gun, miss a moving target. But you can always hit them with that.” Comforting.

Then, to prove his point he turned and waved over Simon, who had been silently watching along the back wall (not that you were always innately aware of where he was in the room).

“Attack her.” The captain waved a hand at you before clapping Simon on the shoulder.

“Let’s not do that,” you said, words falling out of your mouth before you could think of something else to say.

Simon, however, stepped closer and held his hands up a bit, as if he were making sure you knew he was unarmed. That wasn’t exactly comforting. “I promise I won’t hurt you. I’d never ‘urt ya.” His voice was low, almost a whisper, and you felt every syllable wash over you. He wouldn’t hurt you but he was trusting you to swing at him with a goddamn crowbar. He trusted you. They trusted you.

Straightening your shoulders, you tightened your grip on the crowbar.

And then he moved. No one that big should be able to move that quickly—it didn’t seem fair—and you were flat on your back. You swallowed the lump in your still sore throat as you looked up at him.

“Try again,” Price called out.

So you did. Again and again. You managed to clock Simon in the arm exactly once and earned a round of applause from the other men, all of them decidedly ignoring that you were supposed to be aiming for the neck. Your arms and legs were screaming at you (again) by the time Price called him off.

“Ye did good, bonnie,” Soap said with another smile. “Proud of ye.”

Oh god, you were going to cry. Tears stung and your battered throat ached with the effort to hold them back as you handed the crowbar back to Price with an uneven smile. “Thanks for keeping me alive.”

“Fair play,” Gaz said, clapping you on the shoulder. “Kept Soap alive. Kept us from eating through the house. You’ve been good to us.”

You cleared your throat, trying to swallow down the emotions. They didn’t need to see all that. “Just trying to-”

“Earn your keep?” Price asked, blue eyes near twinkling. “None of tha’. You’ve done more than enough.”

It wasn’t many words but you didn’t think Price was a man who used flowery prose or words to anyone. But that didn’t stop it from meaning the world to you. How many times has someone said you’d done enough? You could probably count them on one hand. So, you simply nodded and murmured, “yeah, sure. Anytime.”

Gaz, Soap, and Price eventually trickled out, leaving you and Simon alone in the large room. “C’mere.”

You walked to his side, a strange jittery exhaustion pulling at the edges of your mind.

“I want to show ya how to get out of a few ‘olds. Yeah?”

Like the guy who’d try to strangle you back at the safehouse. This training made sense—and no matter how well you (didn’t) shoot or swung a crowbar, you felt like this bit was more practical. And you felt safe with Simon. Simon with his dark, warm eyes and rough hands.

He led you through a few grapples and moves to break a stranglehold—he never aggravated your throat, his grip gentle if not bordering on nonexistent. He even muttered something about getting you more cream when you finished.

As strange as it was—he was pretending to strangle you—you never felt unsafe with him. Not when he came up behind you. Not when he charged forward. Not when he bent you across a bench and coached you through how to maneuver around it while your neck was tucked into the corner of his bent elbow. Never.

“You did good. But I want ya to do better, olright?” He asked as you broke another hold.

You nodded and then the broad expanse of his palm was dragging across your throat and he was pushing you back back back until your spine collided with the padded wall behind you. You tried to ignore how your chest brushed his with every breath you took. The attempt flew right out the window when he wedged a firm thigh between yours.

“Remember whot I told ya.”

Right. Focus. You turned in his loose hold and shot your arm up, remembering the move he’d taught you earlier. But he must’ve moved or you did something incredibly wrong (more likely of the two options) because when you turned to drive your arm down, meaning to break his hold, your finger caught on something and it snapped against your palm.

You watched, a little confused, as Simon’s mask dangled uselessly off one of his ears. A scar, old and jagged, stretched from one corner of his mouth up to his ear. Another bisected it on his cheek. More scars twisted across his mouth and down his chin and-

You smacked a hand over your eyes. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry. I’ll buy you more masks. I-”

A now-familiar hand, gently pried your hand away from your eyes but you still kept them closed. He wore a mask for a reason. You weren’t about to betray him like that, even if it was an accident. You didn’t mean to. You didn’t!

“You can look. ‘S fine.”

“Not fine.” Eyes still closed.

“I’m saying ‘s fine.” But it was the gentle swipe of his thumb against your cheek that had your eyes slowly opening again. He meant it.

You watched, almost transfixed, as Simon reached up and unhooked the other side of the small mask. The simple act had your heart leaping and racing beneath the cage of your ribs. Your fingers shook with every bit of skin now exposed to you. He had scars. Some big, some small. And you had been correct in thinking his nose had been broken before but you liked how it sat, a little crookedly, on his face. His brown eyes didn’t move away from you as he shoved the small mask into his pocket.

Your hand raised and then froze, uselessly hanging in the air between you. It had been a selfish want to touch him. You hadn’t asked and he hadn’t given permission. Shouldn’t it be enough that he trusted you with this?

Before you could apologize or try to covertly play off why your hand was halfway to his face, Simon reached out and his thick, scarred fingers circled your wrist in a gentle grip and he dragged your hand up up up. The tremor in your hand ceased as soon as your fingers brushed against the warm skin of his cheek. Your thumb traced against the scar that cut from the corner of his mouth and up toward his ear. A cruel slash. And he was so handsome.

Your heart ached when you felt him press a little more into the warmth of your palm. His long blond eyelashes fanned against his cheek as his eyes closed. He was so beautiful.

“Simon.” His name was a prayer. A promise.

He moved closer, the heat of his body bleeding across yours.

And then his mouth brushed yours. It wasn’t a true kiss. Not yet. Just his lips, scarred and cold, against yours. But you kissed him, pressing your lips against his with an embarrassing insistence that you couldn’t stop. But the embarrassment did not get a chance to fester, not with how his large hands framed your face and you could feel him smile.

“Olright?” He murmured as he pulled back the slightest bit, letting his large hands smooth lightly down the sides of your neck to rest over your shoulders, warm and heavy.

Your heart fluttered. He cared. “Yeah. This is good. Y-you’re good.”

His thumb and finger hooked your chin and he tilted your face toward his again.

A/N: Thanks, again, for reading! Your comments mean the world to me and really keep me motivated.

#Simon Riley x reader #Simon ghost Riley x reader #Simon Riley x you #ghost x reader #cod x reader #cod fanfic #Simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #female reader

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mr-crawlings-wife · 22 hours ago

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Hopeless Idiots

Prologue-9

Previous part, Masterlist, Next part

Warning: nothing much tbh, canon chaos

It's almost evening now. The sun is setting, dipping into the horizon. I'm outside Crowley's office, about to enter to clean it up and retire for the day. As I make my way inside, Crowley calls out to me,

"By any chance, Mao Mao dear, have you heard from Grim?"

"No sir." I get to work immediately, using the collapsible ladder provided to me by him, to reach the portraits hung on the wall behind his desk. I spray a light spritz of the cleaning solution before wiping with a towel.

"When was the last time you saw him then?“

Why was he asking me this?

"Way before class started..."

"Huh...so it would seem you have no idea."

I pause my movements. My hands going still against the glass protecting the antique portraits.

"Did something happen sir?" I resume my ministrations.

"Well...Grim and a freshman set the Queen of Hearts statue on fire. And then they- along with another heartslabyul freshman, destroyed the chandelier in the cafeteria."

I step down from the ladder.

"They made a deal with me... That they would get a magic stone fit for the chandelier within today in exchange for keeping their positions as students...and they've yet to return."

"Do you want me to go look for them?“

"That's up to you."

I remain quiet and don't offer him an answer. Instead, I continue to clean up. A faint sense of haste in my movements.

I head straight to the chamber of mirrors after I'm done. Why am I doing this? I don't know. I have no idea why I'm formulating a plan or why I'm almost running. Or even why I'm slightly crestfallen when I realise that I have no idea how to use a mirror for transportation as I stand in front of it.

Should I just say a command? Like how Crowley did when he tried to send me back home?

But this mirror is designated for only Heartslabyul. It isn't supposed to lead me anywhere else. But what if I end up lost?

I pick at the decorations surrounding the mirror, it's covered in dust and cobwebs. Coating my fingers in a sickening gray colour.

Should I chant? Like the Fair queen did when she spoke to her mirror?

"Mirror, mirror on the wall~! Take me to Heartslabyul." I wait and wait and wait.

Nothing happens and I'm confused. A deep chuckle comes from far behind me. "Hm?" I look back over my shoulder, taking in the figure of a tall green hair spectacled Heartslabyul. He's holding onto his mouth, suppressing a full laugh.

"That's not how you use it."

"I figured." I sigh, I can't deny feeling a slight creeping of embarrassment.

"Why are you trying to get there anyway?" I guess seeing me, the janitor, go to a dorm that's already taken care of is confusing beyond belief.

"I heard that Ace had gone to get a magic stone for the chandelier. Which was after class...and he has yet to return." I wonder if he even went there...

"Oh..Ace and Deuce are at the dwarfs mine."

"Dwarfs mine? How do I get there?"

"You could use the enchanted mirror."

"....Can you show me?"

He smiles and leads me to the mirror that was in the auditorium and had failed to get me home. What is this mirror called?

"Take this poor soul to Dwarfs mine." He commands in a slightly cherry voice, like this was amusing.

In a flash, he's gone from my side and I'm somewhere. Somewhere in the shadows of a wisteria. My back to the trunk and the mirror stuck on it.

I make my way outside. All that surrounds me are woods, foliage and a cottage in the far back. I suppose this is the place in which, the killers of the Fair Queen resided. This place is surprisingly unkempt for a historical location.

I suppose people don't bother with them. They're too busy with Snow White and the Fair Queen. What neglect.

I allow my legs to carry me to the cottage. Now that I'm here...I don't know what to do...

Why did I come here? Not like it was any of my business....

Now that I think about it... it's probably because my chances of surviving this life at NRC would be higher with him by my side. At least in a nutshell. It's better to be safe than sorry. Given how Crowley doesn't give two shits about me. And the students here have actual villains for role models.

I stand quietly, a few feet from the cottage. When suddenly I hear a voice- an annoying pitch-

"Yeaaaaah. Just like the time with the chandelier, right? You "found some way," and now here we are. We just fought that thing and it creamed us. So what exactly is your plan here, genius? Because I sure don't trust you to improvise!" Said the voice of Ace, huffing and puffing on the forest floor and yet still having the strength to blabber on.

"What?! You're the one who-" a Heartslabyul with blue hair stuttered, he looked like he was ready to punch a hole through Ace.

"Aaand they're at it again." Said Grim, tired.

"This is how I feel everyday, dealing with you." I mutter.

Both Ace and the blue haired Heartslabyul gasp.

"Whoa, henchman! When did ya get here??" Grim waves at me, a certain relief in his eyes.

"Anyway...what are you guys doing??“

"Well...you see..." The cyan eyed boy began.

"You lot are hopeless.." I mutter. Truly baffled by their lack of seriousness.

"Agreed, loosey Deucy here sure is hopeless." Ace mutters, a smirk on his lips.

"You little- this is why you're getting expelled!“ Deucy, I presume, shouts in rage.

"Spoken like-"

"You should work together." I mutter, trying to interject.

"Work together... Is that some kinda joke?" Ace has a mocking look on his face. "You always say the lamest things with the straightest face, Maomao."

"Agreed. No way could I work together with him." Deucy's words shock me, I can't help but roll my eyes.

"You two....just get expelled then."

"Huh?“

They both gasp, Grim looks crestfallen.

"Not like I've got any skin in the game..." I mutter, frustrated by them and with myself for bothering to come here.

They both look hesitant, as if sensing that I'm about to leave.

"W-well..." Deuce stutters.

"Gah... Fine. Let's just get this over with, then." Ace sighs in defeat.

I nod.

"Have you considered baiting the monster?"

Both of them seem confused.

"From your explanation, I would assume that the monster is quite slow. Why not making it leave the mine, venture far away and use that opportunity to steal the gem?“

Taglist: @kittycat246 @wutap @coffee-or-hot-cocoa @boredselkie @krysthalina @frostines-blog @anastasia-426 @ghostlysyntaxed @neufora @existingtoreadfanfics

#twst x yuu #twst x oc #twst x mc #twst x you #twst x reader #twst x maomao #twst x apothecary diaries #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x apothecary diaries #twisted wonderland x maomao #disney twisted wonderland x mc #twisted wonderland x yuu #twisted wonderland x mc #twisted wonderland x you #apothecary diaries #the apothecary diaries #apothecary diaries maomao

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justrandomfanficideas · 3 days ago

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4-BNHA

An Au where the Katsuki is Deku's quirk and because of how strange of a quirk it was, Inko and Hisashi asked their friends(Masaru and Mitsuki) to adopt Katsuki has their own child especially as he would take a similar form to those closest to him.

What type of quirk Katsuki is? Maybe some type of protective one as Katsuki could be Deku's guardian/protector and with this, there won't be any bullying and Katsuki's 'quirk' is just part of him.

Anyways, Katsuki is raised together with Deku and while he acts mostly human, sometimes he shows attitudes or does things that no human(with or without quirk) would do.

When Deku was around the age most quirk appeared, his parents went to another country with him and Katsuki to officially put Katsuki down as his quirk(because Hisashi did not trust the doctor and that is with good reason so they went to the country Hisashi worked most of the time).

How would this affect canon? Well, Deku would probably still want to be a hero but I'm not sure he would accept One For All as it would be unknown how it would affect Katsuki but maybe he would, that is up to the writer, but Katsuki would not enter class 1-A as a student but as Deku's quirk which would confused the while calls(and maybe the teachers) why there was one more student and why their name does not appear in the class list(I was just thinking and maybe Katsuki would not care about gender since he is a quirk so you can use whatever pronouns you wnat or have him also be able to change his own gender).

Really, Katsuki actually being Deku's quirk would end up changing many things so in the end it is up to the writer how big or small those changes would be together with ships and anything else.

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sableeira · 2 years ago

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ode to a failed partnership

#been thinking about this one for a while now #is this how it went down in canon? probably not #Chuuya wasn’t sure that Dazai was the one who planted the bomb buuut Chuuya is also the guy who can sense a disturbance in the peace and #forces around him when Dazai is near. surely he felt it in his bones that Dazai was the one to blow up his car #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd fanart #chuuya nakahara #bsd chuuya #soukoku #at least implied lol #my art #bsd #using 3d assets to scrabble together a composition and use as base for paintings is actually starting to work #no way in hell will you catch me drawing a car from scratch

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ecadius · 3 months ago

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Thinking a little too deeply about how concept art doumeki was this snarky and smug mf similar to how watanuki probably sees him sometimes. i feel so ill. where can i see more of this, clamp

#xxxholic #doumeki #doumeki shizuka #douwata #watanuki #watanuki kimihiro #concept art shizuka probably went to canon haruka doumeki and idk how to feel abt that #clamp #i need an au of this #smug doumeki is still real tbf clamp is just gatekeeping the watanuki pov of doumeki shizuka #if he looks at me like that i would get the urge to kick him down the stairs on our first meeting too

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nachosforfree · 18 days ago

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David goes to hell (canon!)

#not canon. i still havent really figured out how afterlife works on nachoverse earth #hell doesnt really exist until cc makes it specifically for his shitty family. the flipside exists but is kind of limbo?#idk #there isnt really a heaven. you just get to sleep forever when you die #also i say nachoverse n not just fnan because. fnan and hahe earth are canonically the same earth bcuz i do everything for the bit #which means i have to account for hahe lore when considering fnan lore. really funny #do u think earth gretchen ever contacted old man henry and was like ''hey youre a really fucking amazing engineer have u ever considered #doing something other than building animal robots to entertain children'' and henry was like ''no not really“#nachoearth actually does have as advanced tech as mesonia its just that the only people with access to it are fazent and the government/j #wow j went way off topic. david goes to hell. its 5 am on easter i just popped meltatonjn its not my fault #anyway since David died before CC went off the deep end he probably is just forever napping. this is probably for the best for him bcuz it #its that or being trapped in limbo until charlie can talk cc down. which takes like 1 million timeloops dont worry about it #time travel is canon to nachoearth but only cc and charlie are allowed to use it cause theyre breaking all sorts of reality rules #big bill hell's cars

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rays-of-fire-and-ice · 1 month ago

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So, I just saw the secret story for Hitsugaya in BLEACH: Rebirth of Souls, and...OH MY GOD!! I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS AND I DON'T KNOW WHERE TO START!

ONE MOMENT (THE MOMENT) MADE ME GO:

THEN IT MADE ME GO:

AND WHEN ONE MY HEADCANONS ABOUT HITSUGAYA GOT CONFIRMED:

AND THEN I THINK GOT ANOTHER CONFIRMED FOR SHINJI AND RANGIKU AS WELL?!?!

AND THERE WAS A SAD MOMENT IN THERE THAT GOT ME LIKE:

AND THERE WAS A FUNNY MOMENT THAT MADE ME LAUGH WAY TOO LOUD:

BUT THERE WERE ALSO A FEW TIMES WHERE I WAS LIKE:

Not sure if I should make a post about it, I've feel like I've gone through a rollercoaster!!!

#hitsuhina #momo hinamori #toshiro hitsugaya #if you've seen it you probably know why I'm freaking out #and I couldn't believe some of it aligned with how I write Hitsugaya's character #but some bits perplexed me and have made me consider how I'm going to keep writing 'An Unwavering Light'#like I'm starting to think I went in WAAAAY too deep with how I thought THAT MOMENT would go down #I won't lie it was a little discouraging in a weird way XD #I'll get over it #also I'm not sure how canon the game is??

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muninnhuginn · 1 year ago

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Thinking about "your weakness is how you always want to be the hero" and how the series returns to this at the end

Li Lianhua hated how he acted as Li Xiangyi and spent years trying to distance himself from it, but ultimately he still fell back into the similar patterns, for all his added experience

His main priority was always to "do the right thing" regardless of how that would impact on those around him. And it *did* impact those around him. From Qiao Wanmian and Shan Gudao as Li Xiangyi to Fang Duobing and Di Feisheng as Li Lianhua

Giving the Styx flower to the emperor so he could use it as leverage to guarantee Fang Duobing and his family's safety. Using the last of his power to save Yun Biqiu. Constantly putting others above himself whilst actively refusing to recognise that his self-sacrificial nature would hurt those he cared about most

And sure, he thinks he's going to die anyway. They're going to be hurt regardless and he can't do anything about that. His odds are low of the Styx flower even working. But ultimately, he refuses to even consider trying. Li Xiangyi has been dead a long time and Li Lianhua is just there to tide things over. What value is the life of a ghost

To the end, he lives and dies a hero. To the end, he refuses to live for himself.

#sth about how he almost managed to live for himself but his past and need to do right doomed him.#those missing years before canon starts were probably the closest he got but even then the knowledge he couldn't use martial arts #must have killed him (no pun intended). because he'd put so much stock in his identity as sigu sect leader + hero + prodigy #so to have such a massive part of his identity stripped from him... honestly it doesn't seem that he ever fully comes to terms with it #but he makes progress and he tries to do better. + that leads to him becoming a different type of 'hero' than the symbol he was originally #deep down he wants to help people with all he has but his capacity isn't infinite + at some point can only be taken from himself #mysterious lotus casebook #mlc spoilers #also to be clear I mention shan gudao not to say lxy should have realised earlier bc for a lot of the time he was too young to notice #and later on sgd did better at hiding his intentions. but more for how lxy tunnel visioned towards his idea of righteousness #and steamrolled over everyone else. both sgd and qwm were placed far below the importance of the sigu sect #and lxy's arrogance made it such that sigu became reliant on him alone as he shut others out (hence domino fall once he went).#idk if he could ever have 'fixed' what was btwn him and sgd bc it was so deep rooted but I do think that his actions #helped convince sgd that sgd was entirely in the right to choose his path #mlc #edit: just went and checked the exact wording of the TL and it's actually 'you like being a hero' rather than 'you want to be the hero'#which is different but still close enough in implications for my point to stand (I think)

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quarks-pussy · 2 years ago

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So I know we here at Startrekfandom love that "came back wrong but from the pov of the wrong" thing and apply it to many different characters and canon situations and I am far from trying to complain about it (I'm "came out wrong" trope myself so I was always gonna obsess over it) but having recently watched a very important episode (you'll know which one) for the first time I think there's a character who hits both tropes mentioned but llike, intertwined, opposite and subverted, and whom I wanna talk about.

Julian Bashir.

From his parents' pov he's "came out wrong but we got him help and he came back better" while from his own pov it's "came out 'insufficient', was destroyed for it, came back wrong and only later slowly came to terms with his new self tho never the process (justifiably so)" and it's heartbreaking because in a way, he's right! Jules Bashir died! His parents had an intellectually disabled child and decided to eugenics him! Julian is not the person he used to be and while I do love the person he is now, that doesn't bring back who he was! Part of me wishes we could've gotten to see Jules at least once and part of me hopes we never do because my heart would shatter.

This isn't a good comparison but nonetheless one I can't help drawing: it's giving similar vibes to anti-vaxxers. "I'd rather risk having a child who is dead than one who's autistic". Obviously this doesn't map over since Julian is still autistic and the procedure his parents subjected him to specifically targeted his intellectual disability and if any folks with id wanna comment on this I definitely recommend you listen to them over me, but it's a similarity I, as an autistic who has encountered anti-vaxxers again and again, can't help but point out. "Give me a normal child or give them death."

This may have been written about already but there needs to be stories about teenage Julian (after finding out and rediscovering who he was) practicing some good ol' recognition of the self through media. I need to hear about how he would encounter a story about someone who came back wrong (I'm gonna assume there's plenty of "wrong" pov stories floating around by the 24th century) and absolutely weep. I need to see Julian mourning Jules, taking years and years to process his feelings, experiencing guilt about how he, the imposter, didn't deserve to live Jules' life.

Came back wrong from the returned's pov but it wasn't an accident. It was done to you deliberately by the people who claim to love you. And now you are here, piloting the corpse of your predecessor.

Jules Bashir is dead. Long live Julian Bashir.

#i've called julian jules before simply as a normal nickname but i don't think i ever will again. not after this #and knowing that if it had been possible i would have probably gone the way jules did. knowing that at his age i would have gone willingly.#fuck dude i am literally actually crying literal tears irl right now this is not a joke #fuck!!!!!#julian bashir #jules bashir #doctor bashir i presume #came back wrong #star trek deep space nine #HE WAS SIX YEARS OLD!! HE WAS SIX YEARS OLD AND THEY KILLED HIM!!!!#i cannot stop crying i am literally crying and like not even just a little #i cannot... poor julian how the FUCK do you ever come to terms with something like that #and like... julian remembers. he has most if not all of jules' memories and also knows he was murdered simply for not being julian #like how did he cope #(im about to go off on a tangent that will contain censored names for the sake of not clogging those tags if you dont know who i mean hmu)#like this is literally the thing that fucked up j*ran so bad he went on a murder spree isn't it #he remembers the one who came before who was killed. very different circumstances of course esp since tr*ll are expected to replace one ano #another but he remembers this person he remembers BEING this person who was young and simply enjoying life and who died a sudden death and #he remembers the experience of that death as well and how it lead to his own creation. it's not remotely similar ofc but considering that #the only time we see t*rias in alpha canon is in julian's body... i need to lie down for a moment.#and jor*n couldn't cope! he couldn't! it was far too much and the weird thing is right now in this moment i GET it y'know?? like that's #so horrific. and i haven't watched any jo*an episode besides facets yet but do you think. do you think j*dzia told julian about all this an #he nodded along and kept composure and then when he was alone he broke down crying? like julian you're doing SO well ily you're coping and #you shouldn't have to obviously but you do nonetheless!! do you think julian still has something from jules? like i've heard there's a tedd #but i mean jules prolly didn't keep a diary he was a six year old with an intellectual disability it's pretty unlikely he could write but #does julian have drawings made by jules? i'd like to think so but honestly his parents probably threw them out. like they also moved so #sorry i'm just. many thoughts head full. ive stopped crying now but who knows for how long. also i'll have to tag this with my original tag #maybe i should've picked something less silly for when i make serious posts but like what am i gonna change my url as well? don't think so #original posts fresh from quark's pussy #and thats the tag limit folks it's been fun. i had to delete two other tags but my god. anyway. thinking about jules bashir forever & cryin

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aquared · 1 year ago

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i Don’t know how much this fits but i am a big fan of this outfit i’ve got here and i wanted to share it i think it’s neat

#by not knowing how much this fits i’m saying i think the aesthetic doesn’t fit alternia all too much #or … anything at all really #again i just think it’s neat #i used the mister seven palette here but i like to think if i went that route with everyone the blood color would -#- be the canon colors in contrast to the toned down clothiwhat the fuck am i saying #i don’t know anything about colors but you guys probably get what i’m saying #here i go talking again #untagged wip edition #< take with a grain of salt

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incomingalbatross · 1 year ago

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Did plot outlining for the probably-beginning of the Slayer Mabel AU. Still some big backstory questions unresolved but not ones I need immediately!

#one smaller problem is that ford has to be a watcher for Vibes and i'm pretty sure buffy-canon watchers are ALL british #but this is an au borrowing buffy worldbuilding not constrained to its canon so i can probably stretch that point #a bigger problem is that i have no clue what went down in 1982 in this au but i know SOMETHING did and i know how things ended up #so i have to match the backstory to the consequences alas #...ironically ford is on track to have LESS demon-summoning on his record here than either his canon self or his buffy-canon counterpart #subject to possible change

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crookedghosts · 2 months ago

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can ppl stop finding shit to be pissed off over please 😭 yall are giving me war flashbacks to when I was 13 and I cared enough about being constantly pissed off/fighting someone on the internet/the concept of canon (arguably, I cared more about wanting to be constantly pissed off than I cared about canon) that I would engage in actual ship wars about what Deserved To Be or even like What Could Feasibly Be canon. who cares though?? let people find their niche moments and be hopeful (or not even that? let ppl perform hopefulness even if they aren't actually? whatever brings them joy - studies say even if you fake smile to yourself your brain believes it. we could all use a little more hope)

#this is specifically abt fighting about canon/non canon ships bc Im specifically getting secondhand embarassment from that #I can just feel some of you harboring so much negativity and I kind of get it bc channeling that into smth stupid and inconsequential is #easier than the real world shit to be negative about but at the same time... I think I was just addicted to misery at some point and my net #misery did not go down when I was fighting ppl about perc¡co! in fact my net misery probably ONLY went up!#anyway yeah Im also coming out as an ex anti... now I literally just don't gaf but also can I just say how liberating it was to be like #yk what these ships wont happen but yeah lets read WAAYY too into reyn4beth 😌😌#stop arguing about if j4sico was bait and admit that the moments are compelling maybe #<- this post isnt even about pjo if you'd believe it #my 13 y/o embarassment is true tho and Im afraid of admitting who its about lmao I'll get found too quick

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invoncible · 2 months ago

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BLUFF ✰ mark grayson & mohawk mark w/ childhood bsf! fem! reader cw. canon compliant themes (ex. distress)

SUMMARY. when mohawk mark doesn't find debbie at his childhood home, he goes after the next best thing: you. he thinks you're together in this world too, and when he realizes you're not... well, how could he possibly give up such a perfect opportunity? / wc. 6k oops

— i started this to train my writing skills but it got out of hand T-T anyways enjoy <3

You didn't even notice your phone ringing. It must've been the third time it buzzed on your kitchen counter but for the life of you, you could not look away from the news. Invincible was laying waste to all the major cities of the globe, seemingly unprovoked.

Your breath caught when the news broke to process new information, senses finally tuning into the whirring behind you. You swiped your phone, barely glancing at the caller ID before answering.

"Hel—"

"Y/N, thank goodness." Debbie gasped on the other end.

You stood rigid. You've known Debbie your whole life. You and Mark were inseparable growing up—it was a rare occurrence to hear her so unnerved. Her unease was contagious, zapping through the wireless connection and taking root in your conscience.

"Are—" You cleared your throat, clutching the phone tighter. You walked over to the window, dragging down the blinds with two fingers and peeking outside. "Are you okay? You sound—"

"Fine, I'm fine." A shaky exhale was what you were met with, along with the sounds of a car starting up. "Honey, have you seen the news? You need to stay safe." A pause followed, too long to be natural. "Do you have anywhere else to go?"

You scrunched your brows in confusion. "Um... no, I don't. But from what they're saying on the news, the Invincibles are only targeting big cities."

"Listen. If you stay there—" Debbie's line crackled as you assumed she was driving away, far away from the neighborhood and fast. “—‘ll come for you.”

“No, you don’t have to do that. I've got my car if something goes wrong.” You pulled away from your phone, glancing at the call screen when you got no response. "Hello?"

"In light of new footage, we have information that—"

The TV fizzled out next, the low drone of cable replacing rowdy chatter of the newsroom. A low-pixel message of NO SIGNAL floated around the screen, bouncing off the edges.

You stared at yourself in the black reflection, wishing it would flip on again so you weren't alone with your thoughts. The paranoia was setting in... you could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

“Mark is—”

beeeeeep.

"Hello?" You whispered over the phone, desperate for Debbie's familiar comfort. “...Debbie? Mark is what?”

A rhythmic beeeep beep met your ears instead. You glanced at your phone once again—CALL FAILED.

"Ohhhkay." You muttered under your breath. This is fine, you soothed yourself.

The electricity in your house died out, gently setting you into darkness. With the TV signal lost and your phone disconnected, the cell towers and power grid were probably down.

This is fine. As long as you stayed inside, you'd be fine.

You pulled down the blinds once more, letting a shred of the sunset glow into your home. Your gaze travelled to Mark's house; across the street, a couple houses down. So easily accessible yet so distant at the same time.

You and Mark were attached at the hip for seventeen years—your entire lives. Separation should have felt strange. But just two years since growing apart, his absence almost felt... normal.

Almost like he was never there to begin with.

You went off to university. You assumed he did, too, but got more reliable intel when you connected with William. He shared that they both got into Upstate, as well as his girlfriend, Amber.

Girlfriend?

You remember the pause you took to process that information—the moment you realized he was moving forward while you remained where he left you. Facing the reality that you were no longer a part of his life.

"Stop fidgeting," You whispered with a little chuckle. "It's high school, not the end of the world."

"High school is where things start to happen." Mark whined as he pulled down the hem of his sweater. "Grades matter, who you hang out with matters, girls matter."

"Uh-huh."

"You think I would make a good jock?"

"You've got the look for it."

"Dumb?"

"Yes."

Mark rolled his eyes, a smile playing on his lips as you both walked up the steps to the next phase of your life. "That's not very nice."

"You can be anything you want, Mark." You groaned, deciding to be encouraging. "Literally. You're good at everything. You'll fit in wherever you want to."

"Okay. Too nice." He huffed and bumped into your side. "But thanks. I just..."

Your brows furrowed in concern when his head dipped, distress sneaking its way through his cheerful disposition.

"Stuff's supposed to happen this year. Big stuff." He was mumbling, unfocused like he regretted taking the conversation this direction to begin with. "I don't want to mess this up."

You wanted to tell him high school wasn't that deep. There were complete losers that all turned out just fine. Something about his expression, though... it was heavy.

You weren't sure what he was talking about, but you knew what he needed. You always did. "Whatever stuff you're talking about... it's gonna work out. You'll take it one step at a time just like you always have, and you have your parents at your side.... William, me."

He offered you a little smile. "We'll do this together?" He held out his pinky finger.

You giggle and interlocked yours with his. "Together."

He broke that promise pretty quickly. Different classes were the first step apart. From there, it only got harder to see each other.

Family stuff was Mark's favorite excuse—vaguely explaining family stuff had become 90% of your conversations. You figured he didn't want to tell you whatever he was really going through, which was fine. It hurt, but it was fine.

Before you knew it, you stopped talking altogether. You didn't think much of it at first—you were approaching adulthood, obviously you were going to get busy. You just thought you'd get busy together. You didn't even know what he was up to these days.

You drew back from the blinds with a long sigh, hoping that Debbie and Mark were safe. Wherever they were.

You trudged down into the basement to turn the generator on. The wooden stairs of the unfinished space crrrrrreaked under your feet. You waved away the dust, pounding your chest to cough the particles that snuck their way into your airway.

It was cooler down here, much darker without the ambient lighting of the sunset above. With your trusty phone flashlight, you managed to maneuver your way through the storage buckets and old boxes to the backup generator.

You grunted trying to pull the lever down. "Shit..." you cursed in disgust, feeling the grime and dust underneath your palm. i want electricity i want electricity, you repeated over and over to block out the icky sensation.

"Need some help?"

"Ah—!" you shrieked, spinning around in a panic. Your flashlight illuminated the figure in front of you, shadowed by the soft light of open door upstairs. "What—" who—?!

"Damn. Relax."

Vaulting over your initial dread, you grabbed something—a wrench or a hammer, you didn’t know, you didn't care—and swung it with all your might.

They caught it in their fist. Your breath shriveled up in your throat at how stiff they were, intercepting your attack without even budging. Their fingers curled tight around the tool and yanked you close.

"tsk, tsk," Their low voice chuckled. "Thought you'd be happy to see me, pretty girl."

You shone your light into the intruder's face, the tension in your body dissipating when you recognized—

"...Mark?" You squinted in the darkness, the flashlight just barely illuminating his face in a ghastly glow. "Wha... what are you doing here?" You huffed.

Blood was pumping through your system, telling you to get ready to run. Your nerves wouldn't calm their tingle even though you realized it was just Mark. Cuz it was Mark, right?

"Checking on you."

"Where's your mom?"

"Smart enough to leave home."

"Oh, yeah. She called. I thought you'd be with her..." You trailed off, frowning when you heard him laughing. "What?"

"Nothing." He hummed. "You're just so..."

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing."

"Okay..." You gave him a weird look. Then your brain caught up to you: Pretty girl? "Aren't you dating Amber?"

He took a moment to think, tossing the wrench aside and grabbing your wrist in his hand instead. "Am I?"

You pursed your lips, eyes narrowing. "I'm... asking you?"

He shrugged. "I wouldn't know."

"What—" You exhaled, brows knitted in confusion. You tried to pull away but he held firm; for every step back, he followed. "Mark, wait—"

Your phone clattered to the ground, the ray of light spinning chaotically through the darkness before it fell on its back.

"I missed you." He murmured lowly, almost reverent in the way he boxed you against the cold generator. "Shhh..." He calmed your trembling frame with his strong arms (when'd he get so strong?) wrapped around your shoulders.

He burrowed his nose in your hair. "It's me, bunny. Why're you so scared?"

This isn't Mark. Your heart pounded at your chest, eyes frozen and piercing into the darkness over his shoulder—Wake up, dumbass. This isn't Mark.

When your tremors refused to quiet, he pulled back with what you hoped was concern. That's when you saw his hair...

"Is that..." You whispered. The soft light from the main floor was fading, but reflected off the shiny sides of Mark's head. "Are you bald?"

What was he doing in the two years since you saw each other?

"Aw..." He laughed heartily, leaning further towards you and flattening his palms over the top of the generator. "Not quite."

He leaned to your side, breath fanning over the shell of your ear as he continued to snicker to himself softly. He grabbed the lever of the generator and shoved it down.

Your body jostled into his firm chest as it sprung to life. It went clank-clank-clank-clank, pumping electricity back into your home. You heard the melodic trills from upstairs as devices booted up again.

The light in the basement flipped back on. It didn't reach you. Mark towered over you and kept you in shadow. But you could see him—rather, who he wasn't.

"What?" Mohawk Mark grinned down at you, sadistic and teasing. "Not who you were expecting?"

No, not who you were expecting. He looked like Mark, sounded like Mark, felt like Mark... But your Mark had a kind face.

"You're not..."

"Nope."

You felt the heat drain from your body as you simply stared up at him, wide-eyed. Run. Where? Why the fuck was he dressed like ... Invincible...

A connection snapped together in your head, synapses clicking together like legos. Oh. Invincible. Everything made sense now, and you felt a little stupid for not figuring it out sooner.

And now one of those murderous variants you saw on the news was in your home.

"You're really out of it, huh?" He frowned, waving a gloved hand in front of your face. He sighed and looked away, "I thought you'd—"

You had the itch to burst into a sprint. You snatched your phone off the floor and ducked under his arm, skipping stairs to the main floor. Car. Keys? Where the fuck did you put them?

A shuddered whimper tumbled off your lips. You felt helpless, mind racing with too many things at once to pick one task and get out of there. You snatched your purse from the sofa, rifling through it to make sure your keys were inside before going outside.

"Come on, come on," You whispered, out of breath.

"Don't run from me, Y/N," Mohawk Mark sang teasingly, drawing out the last syllable of your name. "Hey, I'm just playing with you."

You screamed anyway, the sound harsh and high-pitched. He pouted, hand firmly around your arm to prevent you from breaking away.

"C'mon, baby. You're hurting my feelings. We're just having fun, yeah? A little roleplay?"

First off, you wished he'd stop calling you things like that. It felt wrong, but... good. With every pet name, he let butterflies loose in your tummy. Your heart pulsed, sending heat to your cheeks. Your brain reminded you, this isn't Mark... this isn't Mark... this isn't the real Mark...

Second, what kinda freaky ass fuck did he turn into?

You rolled out of his grip, barely making it a step away before his arm circled around your stomach, pulling you back into his chest.

"Get the fuck off me—" You squirmed uselessly, your phone and bag tumbling onto the floor. You yelped when he threw you over his shoulder, patting the small of your back affectionately as if securing cargo. "Mark!"

He just laughed, taking off through the door at a abnormal speed. Your nose smushed into his back under the acceleration, stomach somersaulted twenty times over as you soared up into the clouds.

He stopped in the air. With a hoarse shriek you clung to him as if he was your lifeline. He was, in this moment, despite everything. Your legs immediately latched around his waist, and he supported you with hands under your thighs.

"Oh, come on, now." He chuckled with a shake of his head. He easily held you and brought a hand to wipe your cheeks. "I'm just playing around. If I'd known you were this sensitive, I would've taken it a little bit easier on you..."

You hadn't even realized you started crying.

He stared at you, eyes trailing over your face. He laughed softly to himself. "Who am I kidding. No, I wouldn't have. You know how cute you are when you cry?"

You glared at him but his grin only grew wider. "What? M'not gonna hurt you! Haven't I shown you that?"

You stared at him incredulously, finally finding your voice and blowing up at him. Your fists curled, pounding at his chest and jabbing a finger in his face. "You broke into my home and have me hanging 100ft in the air?!"

"So? I'm not dropping you, am I?" You felt his fingers tap against your thigh.

"That—" Your cheeks burned. but from being embarrassed or flustered, you couldn't quite place.

"This world's Mark is the biggest piece of shit for leaving girlfriend all alone."

You blinked, "Girlfriend?"

"Yeah, you're..." Mark's head tilted, sharp eyes acutely aware of your confusion. "Ohhh. Don't tell me that fucker didn't lock you down."

You didn't even know what to say. Things were being thrown at you left and right and you were still on the fact that Mark was Invincible. Your mind rifled through all the headlines that had his name... all that pain, death, and destruction... and how you weren't there for him.

He clicked his tongue in disappointment. "Well. I'm a better version, anyway."

[]

The sun finally set on day 2 the war with no hope in sight. Mark just admitted Eve into the hospital—she stubbornly decided to help him with two of his variants and paid the price. Her broken leg was under construction, and she was unconscious.

Mark sighed as he closed the door behind him, looking up to see Cecil waiting for him in the hallway.

"You can't be here, kid."

Mark scowled. "The other Invincibles know about this place. They could kill her to get at me. I... can't lose another friend. I won't."

After Amber, Mark wanted to be with Eve. It was the next logical step, right? Both superheroes, went through a lot together, understood each other... But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not even under Future Eve's advice.

Not when he still held space for you in his heart.

He was an asshole for it, he knew that. He couldn't put a date to the last time you spoke and he selfishly held onto your memory. Were you pining for him like he was pining for you?

His time with Amber taught him a lot. He wasn't going to make you suffer like she did. He wasn't going to ruin the friendship he had with you just because he selfishly wanted your love.

"We're losing this, Mark." Cecil sighed, snapping Mark out of his thoughts. The bruise on his face throbbed with every word. "The world needs you."

"You got every superhero on the planet fighting for you right now." Mark shot back angrily, shutting his eyes only to see you behind his lids.

"Mark. Oliver's out there. Your mother's out there." Cecil pressed, pulling out his phone. "Which reminds me. She left a voicemail."

With his interest successfully piqued, Mark listened as his mother's panicked voice played over Cecil's device.

"I can't reach Mark—if you see him, tell him I'm at Paul's. Oliver insisted on going out there, and I let him on the condition he finds his big brother."

Mark's gaze dropped down to the floor guiltily, a war of emotions swirling inside him.

"I couldn't stop him if I tried. He was going to sneak out anyway, but..." A sharp inhale. "I'm worried. I know they're strong, I know that. But these other versions... they're nothing like Mark." Seconds of silence passed as she collected her thoughts. "Can you check on someone for me? If all these Marks grew up the same, there's a childhood friend on our street that he was never without. I tried to reach her but service went down. Please."

Cecil pulled back his phone. "I already sent agents to her home—"

Mark's head snapped up, gritting his teeth in annoyance. "What did I say about going near my family?"

"I wasn't aware she was family." Cecil raised an eyebrow, pocketing his device and pulling down his cuffs.

"They're my responsibility. She's my responsibility." Mark retorted, running a anxious hand through his hair.

"A thank you would be nice." Cecil mumbled, unperturbed by the boy's argument. "Seeing as you are currently shirking said responsibility."

"Don't—" Mark lurched forward, a threat on his tongue. Cecil flinched backwards, his hand firmly in his pocket finding his controller.

Mark pulled back, dropping his fist. "...Just shut the fuck up, Cecil." He blasted off through the halls.

Cecil watched him leave with bated breath, exhaling slowly when he got the intel that Mark was off the grounds. At least he was out there.

[]

"I killed the Guardians, yeah."

"All of them?"

"Yeah. No big deal."

You raised your eyes in surprise but the notion wasn't as gruesome as you thought it would be. Blinded by love, maybe? Or were you just happy to be talking to Mark again, regardless of the version?

Hours ago, you couldn't imagine sitting in your bedroom with the man who invaded your home. But, genuinely, what were you supposed to do? Pick a fight and lose? Worse, die? You weren't so stupid to waste the goodwill he held for you.

"What happened to me in your world?" You asked, your voice quieter now.

Mark tilted his head, exhaling through his nose. His jaw flexed, like the memory alone was an irritation.

"The resistance killed you to get at me," he muttered, his voice dark, laced with something sharp and unhinged. The crazed gleam in his eye flickered under the dim lighting, like a fire burning just beneath the surface. Then, with an almost amused sigh, he shifted his weight, offering you a small, self-satisfied smile. "Don't worry. I made them pay for it."

You didn’t bother asking how.

Mark’s arm stretched behind you, draping lazily across the back of the pillows, his fingers idly toying with the fabric of your sleeve. Every casual brush of his fingertips sent a ripple of goosebumps across your skin.

"We were a good thing, you know," he mused, voice lower now, softer. gentle. "You didn’t fight me. You didn’t run. You loved me." There was a teasing lilt in his voice that you recognized.

That’s not so different here, you swallowed the thought, masking it with a roll of your eyes. "Did you love me?"

That made him pause. His gaze flicked to yours, brows furrowing slightly, like the question had caught him off guard. Then a slow smirk tugged at his lips, amusement flashing in his expression before he let out a low chuckle.

He leaned in so close you could feel his breath ghost over your lips. "Let me show you," he murmured, voice dark and filled with intent.

The air between you tightened as his hand trailed from your sleeve, fingers dragging along the bare skin of your arm, slow and deliberate. His touch was light, teasing, like he was waiting for you to react—to pull away or lean in.

You offered him nothing but a careful stare and the slow rise and fall of your chest.

His eyes narrowed, delighting in the challenge. His nose brushed against yours, his lips lingering just shy of touching.

Pull away, your brain screamed at you, ringing every warning bell it had in the book. This isn't right.

But his other hand came up, grazing along your jaw... and his fingers slid beneath your chin, tilting your head up, forcing you to meet his eyes... all of it felt so familiar, like something out of a dream. And it'd been so long since you saw his brown wells, you couldn't tear your gaze away.

Your daze was broken when you heard him laugh again. He adored the way you frowned in confusion, the moonlight twinkling in the reflection of your eyes.

“Aww,” he cooed, lips curving into a knowing smirk. “look at you. So easy. This world’s Mark has left you all alone, hasn’t he?”

Your chest rose and fell with uneven breaths as he tilted his head, watching you squirm.

“S'like you’ve been waiting for this," he hummed. His hand gripped your chin, tilting your face up, forcing you to look at him. His eyes darkened at whatever he saw.

“I’ll take care of you,” he murmured, brushing his lips over yours—you could feel him smiling. “Since he won’t.”

Stop, stop, stop. You wanted Mark, wanted him desperately, but not like this. Not with him.

You released the breath you were holding when he paused his fixation on your lips, head turning minutely to the side as if he was hearing something.

"For fuck's sake..." Mark scoffed, a low chuckle passing through his lips. "Speak of the devil."

What?

Mohawk Mark heard the whistle of air before you did, only clueing in when it grew louder. It reached a peak when a projectile CRASHED through your window—

You scrambled backwards on your mattress as splinters flew everywhere. Mark caught you before you tumbled off the bed, shielding you from the broken glass and wood.

"What's—" You began to ask, but over Mark's shoulder you saw him—the real Mark.

You just stared at each other for a moment, though you couldn't see much past his tinted goggles. But the slow scowl growing on his lips communicated all you needed to know.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Mark—the real one—growled. "Get off her."

Mohawk Mark laughed into your shoulder, turning to face him. "Why? She's not yours, is she?"

Mark's eyes twitched behind his goggles, abandoning his inhibitions and diving at him, grabbing his variant's hair and yanking him off of you—

"Mark..." you warned, fear bubbling in your gut.

—your caution fell on deaf ears; Mark threw him up and drove him through the floor.

"Mark!" you yelled behind him, feeling the air whip past your face, following him as he crashed into the living room below. "Shit—"

Squeaking as you fought against the slope of the cavity, your feet, only clad in socks, provided the worst possible grip and you began slipping down the gap. Your breath caught in your chest as you felt yourself plummeting—

"Hey." His voice was urgent yet comforting, his arms tightening around your body in seconds, pulling you back from the edge. "I got you."

Your hand instinctively gripped his shoulder, grounding yourself as you realized you were suspended in his embrace. As he gently descended to the floor, your eyes moved quickly, scanning the outline of his goggles.

"You... I guess you know now, then." His voice was low, heavier than usual, like a weight he’d been carrying finally released.

The moment your feet met the ground, you stepped back, your heart pounding. Across the room, Mohawk Mark was sprawled on the floor, blood leaking from his nose, unconscious for now. Your gaze flicked back to your Mark, heart still racing.

"Yeah, I know." You snapped, the anger rushing through you, the frustration and confusion bubbling up.

His expression faltered, something unreadable flashing across his face before he sighed, almost too quietly, as if he were disappointed in himself.

"You’re angry," he observed, his voice tinged with regret.

"No shit, I’m angry!" Your hand shot out, slapping against his chest before it balled into a fist at your side. Every inch of you was yelling at him, every question, every unspoken feeling, everything that had been left unsaid for the past two years. "The first time I've seen you in two years and it's—it's not even you?"

"I know, I know," Mark’s hands moved to his mask, tearing it off with an impatience that only grew when it caught on his nose. He grimaced as he yanked it free, tossing it to the side. The dim light of the room revealed the exhaustion etched into his face, but even through that, you could see him—the real him, just... different. Worn down, tired.

"I can explain."

"You better fuckin start."

"Be mad at me all you want, but look at this." His arms gestured wildly around your place. "I was right to not tell you! It could've been way worse, way sooner if you knew anything about what I was really up to. Why didn't you leave when Mom called you?!"

"The phone cut off, asshole, I didn't hear everything she said, and I certainly wasn't aware that you were the one behind Invincible—"

He shook his head, dismissing the topic. He stepped into your space and held onto your arms. "Did he touch you?"

"Get off me."

"Did he touch you?" He pressed, shaking you slightly as his grip tightened around your biceps.

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the urgent crack in his voice. "Yes, but I let him."

He pulled away from you as if burnt. A heavy silence hung in the air, nothing but the clattering of broken floorboards crashing down from above.

"...He's a murderer, Y/N." He whispered, eyes narrowed.

You knew that. You knew he was right. "I was... vulnerable."

"He killed people—"

"Shut up," You snapped, cutting him off. "Don't lecture me; this is a nonissue. What was I supposed to do? Hm? Want me to pick up my fists and come out swinging like you did—"

"I thought he was hurting you!"

"My hero." You rolled your eyes, the words dripping with bitter sarcasm. You knew you were being unfair, maybe a little cruel, but you couldn’t stop yourself. You were exhausted from the many near death experiences you've somehow survived in the last few hours. Strung so tight you felt like you might snap.

Every inch of you was begging to cry and let him hug you like you both so clearly wanted... but the fact that it took something this bad to get him to show up? That hurt more than anything.

Mark stared at you, his face an amalgamation of emotions, like he couldn’t decide on one.

Should he be angry at you for being difficult, for making him work for this moment when all he wanted was to explain? Should he feel pain, the sharp ache in his chest that another Mark got to hold you before he did? Or was it jealousy, searing heat into his face, that another version of himself had been the one to touch you, to be close to you before he had the chance? Maybe... maybe it was the bittersweet happiness, the relief that he was finally standing here in front of you.

He didn’t even care that you were glaring daggers at him—he missed staring into your eyes, albeit hardened and displeased, making his heart race; the way you’d furrow your brow when you were frustrated, the way your voice would call out to him.

Mark’s hand twitched at his side, wanting to reach out, but he held himself back. Would you even allow it? The distance between you was far more than physical. He had a thousand things to say but in that moment, words felt hollow.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he finally muttered, his voice quieter, more vulnerable than he intended.

Childish.

You scoffed lightly, rolling your eyes again. "All that time and that's all you have to—"

Before you could finish, your world spun. The floor tilted beneath you as Mohawk Mark launched himself into you, sweeping you off your feet and through the door.

[]

"Y/N!" Mark yelled after you, breathing heavy in a panic. "No, no, no, no—" He launched himself from your home, bursting through the roof after you.

You barely heard him over the rushing wind. You clawed at Mohawk Mark's back, the height siphoning the air from your lungs. "Stop..." You ordered weakly.

"Changed your mind already?" He laughed, cradling you in his arms. Your head lolled against his chest. "Don't tell me you buy his bullshit."

"Mm..." The sharp ascent from ground level to the clouds made your head spin, vision darkening as you grew dizzier.

"You're fucking dead!" Your Mark came out of nowhere, shooting up beside Mohawk Mark and bashing his nose in. With a pained groan, he dropped you. "Shit—"

"Look what you made me do, dipshit!" Mohawk Mark snarled, shoving Invincible away and bolting after you.

"Don't—" Mark growled in frustration, racing against time. He watched as your limp body dropped helplessly against gravity.

It never changed. Whether he told you or not, you would end up in these perilous situations regardless. He cursed under his breath, catching Mohawk Mark's ankle and catapulting him into the night sky before pushing forward.

He collected you in his arms before it was too late, wasting no time as he shifted his direction and carried you off to GDA's hospital.

[]

The steady beep... beep... beep of your heart monitor was the first thing you tuned into upon waking up.

"Oh, good."

Your eyes fluttered open, slowly drifting towards Mark. He was bent over your cot, his hand on your forehead while staring down at you with stars in his eyes.

"You just passed out. Nothing serious, but I wanted to make sure." He mumbled, pulling back.

Your eyes drifted back to the ceiling, unfocused and hollow. There was too much—too much to process, too much to feel, too much weighing down on your chest all at once. It pressed against your ribs, thick and suffocating, a tidal wave crashing over you before you could even take a breath. Every nerve in your body screamed with something—fear, exhaustion, embarrassment, confusion—but it all blended together into one overwhelming, crushing force. Your mind was shutting down for its own sake.

The sounds around you dulled into distant echoes, the weight of your own limbs barely registering. Your chest rose and fell, but it felt mechanical.

"Y/N?" Mark whispered, brows furrowing in concern. "Hey." he poked your shoulder.

You shook your head, turning away from him as tears pooled in your eyes. God, you felt so embarrassed.

Mark frowned when you shifted away from him, any comfort he planned to offer dying in his throat. "I'm... sorry." was all he could say.

Nothing.

His leg bounced nervously, chewing at his lip as he fought with his own emotions. "I want to kill him for putting hands on you."

Your brows tightened. Not what you wanted to hear either.

He sighed heavily, running his hands through his hair. "M'sorry for blowing up at you. It's not your fault—"

"It is." You sniffled. "I missed you... so much, that I pretended that he was you..." you choked on the words, turning your back to him and burying your face into the pillow. "How pathetic is that?"

Mark's heart squeezed, kicking off his shoes and climbing onto the bed next to you. "Stop. Not your fault." He reiterated.

You scoffed and shook your head, laughing wryly. He frowned, and pulled you to face him. He saw your tears and felt his own pile up behind his eyes.

"I'm sorry." He whispered. "I told my.... uh, last relationship that I was Invincible. It didn't end well for her, and I didn't want to put you in that same position. Always unsure, always in danger, always waiting..."

"I'm not her, Mark." You muttered.

"I know." He pursed his lips. "I was gone for months at a time—"

"I waited two years for you, didn't I?" You pushed away from him and sunk back into the cot. "You didn't even give me a chance."

Childish. That’s how you sounded. Because in the end, that’s all you two were—two kids who once grew up side by side finding each other once more, with all the petulant hurt coming through the surface.

A beat of silence passed between you, with nothing but your heart monitor to keep the time.

"You said he touched you." He started.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. "...don't bring that up."

"No, I want to know." He shifted his weight, hovering over you. His face was painted with something foreign, green-eyed and greedy. "Show me."

Heat blossomed on your face as you lay in his shadow. "Mark..." You laughed nervously. "It was barely anything."

"You missed me so much you had to settle for that." Mark didn't look away from you for a second. "I want to give you the real thing."

You screwed your face up. Again, the thought passed through your mind: you wanted Mark, but not like this. "I don't want this to be a pity thing."

"No," Mark shook his head firmly. "not pity. Everything I feel for you has been there since... since I can remember. And it fucking boils my blood that a different version of me got to you before I had the balls to do it myself. Please," he whispered. "I need this."

"Need what?"

"You." He answered, like the answer was obvious. To him, it was. "I'm done waiting around."

You blinked at him before a soft smile spread across your face. "Me too."

Mark's lips brushed against yours with a gentleness that made your heart ache. He cupped your face in his hands, and you melted into him, your arms wrapping around his neck.

You let out a soft sigh when his lips parted slightly, allowing you both to breathe. You pressed forward, kissing him harder, feeling the intensity of everything that had been building between you over the years—years of longing, of waiting, of wanting something more.

Mark responded with equal hunger, his hands sliding down your back, pulling you closer. His chest rose and fell with each breath, his heart pounding against yours.

Where had he touched you? Mark didn't care anymore. By the time he was done with you, you'd know his touch and his alone, and he'd know every inch of you like the back of his hand. He wasn't leaving this room without it. He was allowing himself to be selfish for once; for you, it was worth it.

He sat back on his haunches, tugging his gloves off by his teeth before diving back into you, sliding his bare fingers underneath your shirt, sighing into your mouth as he squeezed your skin in his palm.

"You'll never need anyone ever again," He nosed your cheek, trailing kisses down your jaw to your neck. "Promise."

This time, you believed him.

— wayyy too self indulgent lmk if it was boring at places :)

#invincible #invincible show #mark grayson #invincible x reader #mark grayson x reader #invincible season 3 #mohawk mark #mohawk mark x reader #invincible variants #invincible war #invincible variants x reader #invincible x fem reader

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marshmellowtea · 11 months ago

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not to be on my bullshit again but currently i am entertaining the thought of "incompetent egotistical businessman who think he's hot shit" ron x "younger assistant with a crush who's actually been carrying him the entire time they've been working together" henry

#listen i don't inject enough dysfunction into my aus with these two i'm trying to fix that lmao #but god. henry keeps telling himself he's going to quit that he's tired of *his* part in ron's success being downplayed or ignored by him #and he wonders what he even sees in the guy half the time he's working with him #but then ron'll smile at him a certain way or tell him 'good job kid' or pat him on the shoulder and he gets sucked back in again #and sometimes he thinks about stepping back and letting ron fail to teach him a lesson but he cares too much about the doofus to ever #actually let him sabotage himself #and as much as he tells himself he wants to see it the thought makes him feel sick.......#meanwhile ron's oblivious af to henry's interventions and is definitely underappreciating him lmao #but he would also be devastated if henry ever went through with quitting and not just cuz he'd be forced to face the fact he's not actually #as good at what he does as he thinks he is #but cuz that's his henry that's his buddy.......he doesn't even realize how possessive-protective he feels over him until henry's on the #brink of leaving #or if henry's being shittalked by a rival or something #because henry doesn't really care about the latter he's not here for the business aspect anyway but ron feels angry about it for reasons #that he can't really even articulate (that being: gay reasons lmao)#oh yeah henry's crush seems unrequited but that's just cuz ron's self centered af here moreso than in canon #but ron has a thing for him too and he's just as touchy feely with him as he is in the show #actually he's probably more touchy with him cuz they're in such close proximity all the time oughglkjdsf #anyway these tags got off the rails and i have places to be so i'll leave it here for now #but man the brainrot is REAL lmao #party down #ronhenry #marshy speaks

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kitimeq · 4 months ago

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ੈ✩‧₊˚we can’t be friends 🤍 xavier 星回 ੈ✩‧₊˚

RE-UPLOAD! The original post didn’t show up in the tags, sorry for the confusion :c

pairing ੈ✩: xavier x reader

summary ੈ✩: you and xavier had been best friends for years, nearly inseparable since the moment you met. But after one slightly drunken night, everything shifted: you became friends with benefits. You told yourself you could handle it, but as time went on, your heart began to ache. You had to end it, for your own sake. You were in love with him, but you couldn't shake the painful truth: you believed he’d never feel the same. Still, what if, all this time, while you were trying to push him away, he was quietly hoping to show you how perfect you two were together?

word count ੈ✩: 12k. omg. it’s LONG, long. grab some snacks and let me entertain you for a while!!

tropes ੈ✩: 18+, smut, best friends with benefits, miscommunication, unrequited love, not really tho, angst, angst with happy ending, plot with porn, love confessions, needy xavier, obsessed xavier, domestic xavier, i suck at giving tropes i swear i will get better someday, desperate xavier, everything is consensual, the consumption of alcohol mentioned, pet names, xavier was once in love with mc but the myths are not canon in this one!!

author’s note ੈ✩: GUYS this one’s IT. This idea was blooming slowly in my mind for quite some time. I really hope you’ll like it 🥹 also, please be gentle with me, i’m not a native speaker of english and I’m definitely not a writer. I like to think that everything i create is just fueled by my passionate delulu. please let me know if you liked it and if maybe you’d like to read part 2!! ♡ enjoy your reading!!

!!do NOT read if you’re not 18+!!

ੈ✩‧₊˚

It all started with the simplest of touches.

Your hands grazed, as if by accident. Then your eyes met. He grabbed you by your forearm, or maybe you grabbed him, everything was so blurry in your mind. A touch on a waist, a hand on a chest, and a sudden clash of your lips. You saw fireworks exploding in your mind, sending pleasant thrumming throughout your whole body.

Desperate touches. Rapid breaths. A whisper, maybe two. He said something. What did he say? The sound of your heart was the only thing you could hear.

Your dress came off. You felt lips. Lips marking every part of your body, leaving behind wet paths that made the exposed skin shiver due to the coolness of the air. He went down. Down. Down, and looked at you expectantly. Your head never nodded that quickly and it probably never will again. You saw stars. Millions and millions of them, shimmering under your closed eyelids. He grabbed your hand and put it into his hair. You caressed it gently, savoring the softness of it.

Then, you saw his eyes. Beautiful, deep blues that looked far too innocent for what he did and what he was about to do with you next. He kissed you again and again, and again, and he held you close throughout the whole night, making you shiver, moan, cry, beg — until you fell asleep from exhaustion right in the safety of his arms. He turned your world upside down.

And then came the next morning, when you began to question the entire ordeal. You panicked, thinking about your friendship that you valued the most and Xavier, whom you just couldn’t bear to lose. However, when you wanted to put it past you, to blame the alcohol consumed that night, act as if it was just a slip of your judgment, a mistake, a reaction caused by the need of intimacy after being single for a long time, he wasn’t having it. He said that he couldn’t forget about it, that it changed things, and you blurted out the first thing that came into your mind. You proposed the whole arrangement.

And that’s how, after several months, your relationship with Xavier stayed clear and technically uncomplicated. Friends with benefits. You thought that even if that night did change things, then in this way you could act as if it wasn’t a big deal to you. In this way, you wouldn’t have to lose him, wouldn’t make things awkward. You still acted normally in front of each other, you continued to spend time in almost the same way you were before that faithful night, but with one drastic change.

Almost every encounter since that night ended with you in his bed or the other way around. Hours and hours spent in each other’s embrace, touching and feeling too much, all at once.

And said feelings were what made you finally decide that you couldn’t do this anymore. You couldn’t continue sharing with him this intimacy, pretending that everything between you remained unchanged. You couldn’t do this anymore, knowing that it was all that you’ll ever get from him, despite being in love with him for so long.

You knew that he would never reciprocate your feelings. You knew that from the beginning, from the very first touch of your fingertips that night, but you foolishly thought that having him close for as long as he wanted you, would be enough for you. Even if he wanted you only for your body, because you were the easiest choice.

However, your heart was breaking every time you were reminded of one significant fact, a harsh reality that felt like a bucket of cold water in your face.

He will never love you. Because you were not her.

And you will never be.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

You already had a strategy to end the arrangement. You wanted to take it slow, step by step, with just a bit of pain on your side. You knew it wasn't your best plan, but it was a plan nonetheless. You wanted to end the friends-with-benefits arrangement in a way that would make you both slowly, almost naturally, drift apart—so subtly that he wouldn't even notice the change. As for you, you were ready to bear the painful consequences of your actions, if it saved you from the excruciating pain of a broken heart later.

You started with avoiding his kisses.

And it turned out to be a tough job to do, because you didn’t realize before how much of a kisser Xavier became during your friends-with-benefits situation. It never really bothered you before, you always accepted every single kiss with content. However, during your last meeting, you were trying so hard to avoid his lips, and noticed that he made it into an almost impossible task.

When you went out one night, he wanted to kiss you three times during hot pot, even though you were sitting across from each other. You thought that the sitting situation was enough of an obstacle, but you quickly learned that he always somehow managed to find a chance to try to steal a kiss. That not only bewildered you, but also made you blush so hard that you had to blame the spicy food for it to not look suspicious. Yet, you managed to stay your ground and ignored his needy attempts at capturing your lips.

You also avoided his lips while you were later watching a movie in his apartment, by pretending that you didn’t see or feel his constant gaze on you. You thought that maybe if he saw that the movie engaged you so much, he would finally drop the attempts. Unfortunately, your plan failed the moment his patience thinned, when he started kissing your neck while cradling your body to his. He was grabbing at you almost desperately and you really couldn’t escape from every single kiss he was giving you, no matter how much you tried to. And you really tried to.

“Why—why are you turning your face away? A-Ah… Let me look at y-you—mmm.” He said between his moans, and he never once stopped thrusting inside you. It was the day when he took you on a sofa between his soft, plushy pillows with the movie still playing in the background. Your legs were laying on his shoulder, his both hands holding onto them tightly while his hips thrust deep inside you, making you gasp in pleasure. When you didn’t respond and kept your head away, hoping that he would finally stop with his relentless kisses, his hand gently grabbed your face and turned it towards his so that your eyes met. He smiled softly, his cheeks pink and face damp. “Yes, there you are. You feel good? You wanna break?” He almost slurred and you adored how quickly he was loosing himself with you, how much he was losing his composure. When you squeezed your eyes, moaning at a harder thrust and shook your head no, he whimpered. Next thing you knew, he lowered your legs onto the sofa and lay between them, bringing his body closer to yours. Your chests touched and you could feel his rapid heartbeat, mirroring the rhythm of your own. He nudged your head, which was still turned to the side, with his nose.

“Give me a kiss, c’mon, starlight.” He kissed your cheek, slowing down his thrusts to a lazy, delicate ones. “I couldn’t get a kiss all day, I need it. Let me.” And when you saw his eyes, full of desperation and something that reminded you of adoration, you couldn’t keep denying him. Your lips touched his and he didn’t let go of them until you came, and later when he began growling straight into your mouth, chasing his own undoing.

It was the last time you met up, and after that you decided that you had to cut it off completely. You couldn’t continue being with him like this, not when you knew that he already loved someone else. Being with him this close messed with your head. You didn’t want to feel like a convenient second choice and you couldn’t help but feel that your meetings were slowly becoming more and more intimate. You had to constantly remind yourself that you weren’t together. You made sure to label the change in your relationship properly at the start of the arrangement — still on friendly terms, with occasional mutual pleasure. But the close proximity and constant intimacy started to make the lines blurry in your mind.

And your heart couldn’t take it anymore, it hurt every time you reminded yourself that he didn’t reciprocate your feelings, and that he never will.

After that movie night you decided that the next step to your goal would be to stop engaging in small talk with him, especially the one that occurred at work.

You worked together at the Hunter’s Association, he was one of the best Hunters out there, and you specialized in weapon modification from the safety of your own desk. You wanted to be a hunter once, but with your Evol involving micromodification you guessed that you could be needed in a position that involved working with weaponry. After working there for years, you were passionate about your work and elated to have a job you loved and where you thrived while helping others to the best of your abilities.

Thus, because of the shared place of employment, you saw Xavier almost every day. He was often near your desk, passing by it, putting snacks before you or teasing you with that soft smile of his. So, cutting the contact out there was one of the toughest jobs for you, but it had to be done.

When you knew that he would be free, you found a task that needed completion in other departments, so that you will not cross paths. Often, instead of others coming to you to fix their weapons, you proposed to make the trip instead. In this way you were always quick on your feet, going from department to department, back to the workshop and again to the others’ desks. You didn’t mind the extra activity, it made you think less about your breaking heart.

And when Xavier managed to catch you from time to time, because he always somehow would, you were trying to appear too busy even for a small conversation.

“Where are you rushing off to again? I didn’t manage to talk to you these past few days.” He said one day when he caught you by your elbow while you were going out of the bathroom. He must’ve seen you go in there and wait for you to come out. He brought you a little closer to himself and looked at your face so intently, that you got scared he could see right through you.

“Sorry Xai, I’m just really busy lately.” You answered, maybe too quickly, and were trying to calm your beating heart upon seeing him so close again. Too close. It didn’t help that he was in his hunter’s uniform, that made him look twice as dreamy. You were so close that you could also smell his comforting scent and see the small scar on his cheek that he got last year after you two tried ice skating for the first time.

The first and the last, for it appeared that you were much better at it than he would ever be, and you wanted to avoid him getting hurt again. It was also before your friends-with-benefits situation, when your friendship was pure and healthy. Your heart squeezed remembering how he grabbed your hand then, and how tightly he used to hold it throughout the whole activity.

“Xavier, are you sure you don’t want to go back home already? I’m afraid that your cut will scar if we leave it like that.” You said, looking at the band aid on his cheek, the only remedy for his small injury that you could provide at that time.

He squeezed your hand and still appeared sheepish after his fall. You secretly found him adorable, you never saw him doing something in which he didn’t excel in. It was as if he let you see a part of himself that no one had ever seen before. That thought made your chest warmer.

“No. I won’t let the ice defeat me.” He said surely and you knew that he won’t give up, even if his legs already visibly trembled from exhaustion. You let out a sigh. “Besides, you’re holding my hand now, so I feel much safer.” He looked at you, his voice soft and cheeks red, most likely from the cold air. Seeing him in such a vulnerable state made you completely overcome by the feeling of tenderness, and you send him a huge smile, thinking that it was the first time he relied on your protection, and not the other way around.

Little did you know that this smile would catch him by surprise so much that he slipped backwards, this time pulling you down with him. However, your reflexes slightly worked, because you managed to put your hand behind his head, shielding it from the impact with ice. You landed on him with a groan as his hands moved to pull your body closer.

“Oh god, Xai, are you okay? How did that happen?” You asked him, trying to lift yourself off of him. You felt him relax his head further into your hand, and when you raised yourself enough to face him directly, he sent you a wide smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. This sight made your heart melt.

“See, I knew you would protect me.” He replied, clearly referring to your hand behind his head. “My little savior.” He called you, and when you puffed the air out, annoyed that he could have hurt himself for real this time, his smile turned into a full laugh, his body shaking under yours. He looked so angelic, covered in snow, laughing in a way that was so scarce that you couldn’t help but join him in his moment of happiness.

And thanks to your mittens, your hand was left with only a purple bruise from the impact. Still, Xavier couldn’t let you forget about it up to the day it disappeared completely, expressing guilt for the minor injury, his sight chasing your hand every time it appeared in his line of vision. He often caressed it softly with his fingers, looking at it with a mysteriously thoughtful expression, whispering “My little savior.” under his breath. It made you wish that the bruise would never disappear.

You took a step back, suddenly overwhelmed by the memories and the closeness between you. He always invaded your personal space, stood so close that you could almost feel his breath on your face. This time, you had had to cut it out for your own good.

“S’okay. You’re always busy but I guess I just got used to meeting you near your desk. Just text me after work? Maybe we could meet up for our book club today.” He said and you swallowed the awful feeling of longing in your chest. Book club was the term you came up with when you both just wanted to sit and read together for hours. Unfortunately, you knew how book club sessions looked like since the beginning of your friends-with-benefits arrangement.

You were sitting together in silence, reading for hours, then talked about your books until you both lost your breaths. A wonderful experience, you adored your little reading sessions, but you knew that recently they always ended with his lips on yours, and with your clothes scattered around his bedroom.

You couldn’t let this go on forever. You couldn’t go back to being just friends now, and you couldn’t keep him so close, knowing that he will never fully be yours. You pitied your poor heart.

“Sure, will do. See you around!” You were aware how awkward you sounded, but before he could stop you, you were already off to another task of the day.

You didn’t text him after work, and neither did you reply to his message in time. The next day you send him an excuse that you were tired and fell asleep quickly, and you hoped that he believed it or didn’t care enough to question you further.

If the distance hurt you this bad now, you couldn’t even imagine how would it feel when he eventually would’ve left you for her.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

The next stage of your plan involved not answering his texts at all. You allowed yourself small replies from time to time, most often very brief, if the situation called for it. Replying excuses from left to right. Then, you incorporated not picking up his calls, especially on weekends, when he appeared to want to see you the most, because you were absent from the Association building and he couldn’t catch even a glimpse of you.

The distance you yourself put between you broke your heart, and you were getting more and more depressed by the day. Ignoring the person you loved wasn’t easy, when he was the one with whom you wanted to spend your time the most.

To distract yourself from the situation, you were trying to pass your time differently. You were meeting up with your family and friends, or you started doing things that you were putting off for ages. Everything and anything to fill the void in your heart caused by the absence of the one you loved. The absence forced by you.

It had to be done, you reminded yourself daily. You had to end this somehow, no matter how it hurt you. You had to move on. You couldn’t still be in love with him the day he would end up with MC. You knew it would ruin you.

Three weeks passed since your last meeting at the Association and you could feel that Xavier was getting impatient. His calls were more frequent. His messages longer. Sometimes while running away from him at work, you could catch how he was scanning the room in search of you. How frustrated he seemed to be. How upset.

You understood it. You were best friends after all, and he also probably needed someone near him to help him get his head clear of MC. You knew that it must’ve been hard for him. But you were sure you were doing the right thing, that’s why you kept avoiding him during the past month, and not only it was the longest period you’ve been away from each other since the start of your complicated arrangement, but also the longest time since the start of your friendship. Even when the times were rough, you managed to see each other at least once or twice a week.

You felt the pain of the distance too. Missing him almost every second of the day. But you had your reasons. You didn’t want to try to satiate the hunger he felt for another woman anymore.

So every time his name appeared on your phone screen, along with the picture of him shoving two muffins into his mouth at the same time, you closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and waited out the signal, simultaneously praying for and dreading the silence.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

On a quiet rainy day, after a month of ignoring almost every attempt to make contact from Xavier, you heard your phone ping thrice. You sighed and put the book you were reading down, deciding that it was a good moment to reply something short to him in order to slightly ease his worries, and make him feel less alarmed. You wanted distance, but you still sticked to responding from time to time, to appear casual. To let the connection break off less abruptly.

xavier: why cant I see U at all recently.

xavier: why are U not picking up my calls and not replying to my texts.

xavier: are U hiding from me?

you: Of course not, just busy.

xavier: busy for me but not busy for others I know U are going out all the time.

xavier: are U mad at me? did I do something wrong.

you: No, you didn’t, don’t worry. It’s just me. I have a lot of things on my mind recently.

xavier: could U please have me on Ur mind too? I miss U.

xavier: so bad it hurts

You let out a rugged breath, and decided to stop responding, but then another text came. This time, making your blood run cold.

xavier: going back from a rough mission right now i think i need help.

you: Oh my god, are you okay? Are you injured?

xavier: cant tell U why dont you come and see me for Urself.

you: Fine, I need to see if you’re okay. Do you need anything? Food? Medicine? I will pick something up on my way there.

xavier: i just need U

You closed your eyes and hid your face in your palms, then swore it would be the last time. You will go in, treat his wounds and go out. It had to be the last time you allowed yourself to be this close to him, and then you had to cut him off completely. A month wasn’t enough to heal your broken heart, and these small sightings won’t make your heart feel any less burdened.

It had to end today.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

When the door opened, he managed to take your breath away once more.

First, only figuratively. His beauty always managed to amaze you. He looked so handsome no matter the circumstances, his hair so fluffy and shiny, his face like that of an angel, with sharp jawline and soft, pink lips almost screaming at you to be kissed. When you met his eyes, you almost gasped at the intensity of his deep blue gaze. There wasn’t a thing about him you didn’t miss terribly after so much time apart.

Then, literally, when the first thing he did was grabbing your hand and hugging you tightly to his chest, that was still clothed in his hunter uniform. He pressed his face into the crown of your hair and touched the nape of your neck, holding it gently with his cold hand.

“Was the mission that difficult?” You asked, thinking that his reaction to you was mostly due to his need for someone else’s closeness. The need for security. “Were you in danger?” You asked quietly, fear bubbling in your mind.

“No. I lied.” He murmured and you felt him squeezing you even harder, inhaling your scent with content. His hand started stroking your back, slowly making its way under your thin coat. “Didn’t know what else to say to make you come see me.” He said and you hoped that he couldn’t hear, nor feel the sound of your erratic heartbeat.

He shouldn’t say things like these, it made you feel too hopeful. You tried to push that feeling down, knowing that’s how he normally acted with you, his best friend. You knew that he didn’t have a lot of people beside him, thus he treasured the ones that stayed. And that thought made you so incredibly apologetic that you had to swallow the tension in your throat. You hated that you fell for him so hard. You hated that you had to leave him because of it. You hated that you knew, that he would blame himself when you’ll leave.

And you started to hate yourself the most because of all of it.

“Did you miss me that much?” You teased, trying to calm yourself with a friendly banter.

“Yes.” The answer was immediate. The kiss he placed on your temple as natural as breathing. “Everything and everyone seems to be taking you away from me these days.” He said and you could hear him sulking. Your heart squeezed again, but you knew that you were doing the right thing. The distance was necessary.

Necessary for you to avoid breaking. You had to protect yourself first, you decided. You couldn’t remain in love with him forever. You had to move on and in order to do that you had to keep the distance. Which was impossible with him around, when he craved physical touch so badly.

You started to be so mad at yourself for breaking your streak today. You didn’t realize how touchy he will be after some time apart and it was getting to your head. You were so conflicted. You felt too much, and that was always the case when you were around him.

He was in love with someone else. Your head was screaming loudly, trying to calm the wave of unwanted emotions.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered. I love you, you thought. “But now I’m here, so maybe I can inspect you for any injuries? You always seem to neglect them as long as they don’t make you bleed out.” You managed to free yourself from his hold and missed how his hands went after you for a second. He didn’t want you to put distance between you two. Not yet, not ever.

He looked into your beautiful, shiny eyes and nodded without a thought. He couldn’t say no to you, not when he saw the still remaining hint of worry in them. Besides, checking for injuries always came with physical contact, and he was so starved. He needed to feel your body close to his. Your hands on him, somewhere, anywhere, everywhere. He felt addicted and craved some kind of relief. He looked after you like a lost puppy, following your footsteps closely, touching the familiar material of your coat that you left on a counter. The distance this past month made him feral, every part of his body screamed to hold you and don’t let go.

You sat down on his couch, and patted the place next to you, hinting at him to sit beside you. He was trying not to appear too eager while doing so, and also when he started taking off the upper part of his uniform. He was almost shaking with excitement knowing that you really came to see him. That you were worried about him. The distance was making him sick. Furious. Desperate. Hurt.

He suppressed a shudder when you touched his shoulder and peeled away the material off his back completely. Your hands were pleasantly warm, as always. He bit his lip trying not to gasp from the contact.

He needed more.

“Xavier.” He hummed, giddy inside upon finally hearing his name from your lips. He was bracing for your outburst. Couldn’t wait for it. “You said you lied about the mission being hard, while having a fucking gash on your back? I-I can’t believe you...” He heard your angry, shaky voice and smirked unintentionally. You were worried about him and he liked that. He liked the attention, when it was coming from you.

Yet, you didn’t know that.

You cursed under your breath and went to grab the first aid kit from one of his drawers, and proceeded to patch the man back up, having no idea that he allowed the Wanderer to injure him, to have an excuse to see you. To keep you with him for a minute longer, even if it was only under the pretense of tending to his injuries. He was ready to do anything at this point to keep you from slipping away from his grasp.

If you knew that, you wouldn’t be so adamant on distancing yourself.

But because you didn’t know, you also didn’t predict that after patching him up, he would propose you to eat dinner with him, making up an excuse that he didn’t want to be alone with his pain. Later, when you wanted to come back to your place, he mentioned he wanted to play kitty cards, the game you adored. You couldn’t refuse him.

During the next hours you spent at his place you both talked in the same way you always used to - about everything and anything, exchanging opinions, stories and everyday thoughts. You laughed together for the first time in weeks, and your cheeks hurt from how much he was able to make you smile. You always had so much fun with him; he was your favorite person in the whole world. You missed him so bad, despite knowing that you couldn’t back out from your plan fully. Yet, you allowed yourself a little break, telling yourself that it was in order for your distancing to not look suspicious. In addition, he was injured, and you felt the need to comfort him in any way you could. The gash on his back wasn’t that deep, but it worried you regardless.

The atmosphere changed drastically only when he managed to win the next round of kitty cards. You jokingly frowned at him, forging displeasure, and he looked directly at your pouting lips. The time seemed to stop when you noticed that look. He raised his hand to touch your collarbone, caressing it with his fingers, up to your neck and over your cheek. He looked deeply into your eyes, and you noticed how dark his became. You found it fascinating that his soft gaze could change so drastically in a matter of seconds.

His hand reached out to grab your chin and brought your face closer to his. And when he whispered: “Could I ask for a reward?” with that dangerous, needy voice of his, you knew that you couldn’t deny him anything.

When your lips touched, you decided that it will be the last time you let it happen. It would be your goodbye, before losing the feel of his touch. You thought that you could at least make the best of it, get lost in the artificial feeling of being treasured for the last time, before you started the last phase of your plan.

After that, you had to cut off the ties with him completely. No matter the measures. No matter the pain.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

“Xavier, m-maybe not today?” You asked when you realized how low he was going with his kisses. You knew what he was about to do, and you hated how much you couldn’t contain the sounds that were coming out of your mouth when he was doing it. Besides, it didn’t feel like a mutual pleasure anymore, it felt like an act of service and you were not sure you wanted him to pleasure only you.

He looked at you, having already dropped to his knees. He looked ruined, his hair already a mess from the touch of your fingers, lips wet and swollen, shirt off displaying his toned chest, bandaged in the center with caution. He was practically heaving. The sight made you blush.

“Why not?” His voice sounded whiny, his lips already kissing the inside of your thigh as if he couldn’t restrain himself. Every kiss sent electricity to your already wet core and you found it hard to think clearly. His hands were grabbing your tights possessively, relishing in their softness. “Please, let me eat you out. I’ll make you feel good, I promise.” The pleading in his eyes was so apparent. So unfiltered.

“Don’t you want to get to the point already?” You offered shyly and he huffed out a laugh.

“Where are you trying to run off to this time?” It sounded like a joke, but he appeared annoyed. “Relax, starlight and let me take care of you. Please.” You still hesitated. It made him pout. “I need it, please, star. I want to taste you so bad. I didn’t manage to last time.” He kissed your knee and put his head on it, looking for the answer in your unsure eyes. “Will you let me?” His pleading tone, along with his desperate gaze was what made you break. You whispered a soft confirmation and it was all it took before he quickly put his mouth on your core, licking vigorously, devouring you like the most delicious thing on the planet.

“Mmmm.” You heard him humming, before your own cries, along with the constant tremble of your legs, drowned out any other sound.

He was elated.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

“Mmmh— Yes. Yes. H—holy—” He whimpered at the same time with his thrusts and squeezed your waist harder, moving his hands up and down your back, caressing it affectionately. “You are s-so warm, so beautiful, fuck—” He moaned when you tightened on him. You stiffed a whimper and tried to commit to memory the touch of his strong hands.

He was taking you slowly from behind and the pace was almost unbearable for you. You needed more, and you couldn’t stand how romantic it felt when he was this gentle with you. However, at the same time you didn’t want him to strain himself, you were aware that the slow pace was reasonable due to the injury on his back. The slow pace did surprise you either way, you thought that after so much time apart he would be quick and rough, chasing his pleasure faster than he normally would. Instead, he acted even more passionately than usual.

The slow pace brought you so much pleasure that you couldn’t contain the sounds escaping from your lips. He kept pressing your most sensitive spots, his thrusts slow, deep and precise. His forehead rest on the back of your shoulder, and you could feel his hot, labored breath pressing against your damp skin.

He made you feel so appreciated, and so cared for, and that made you uneasy. More so, with the accompaniment of the things he was constantly saying to you, from the moment you allowed him to touch you today.

“Can you turn around now? Please, my star, I want to see you.” He half-whispered and started kissing your neck, then moving his mouth to every patch of your skin he could reach: your shoulders, back, arms. No place was left unkissed under his relentless lips. You shook your head no; you didn’t want to let this become even more passionate than it already was. You positioned yourself facing the headboard of the bed from the very beginning, and you were adamant to keep your stance up until the end. You feared that your eyes would betray you, displaying your feelings for him and that was what made you not lose your composure.

Upon hearing your refusal for the third time this night, he proceeded to voice his frustrations by grunting, and thrust into you a little harder. You moaned loudly, surprised at the sudden change of tempo.

“Please, starlight.” He begged; his voice achingly earnest. He picked up the pace and you almost choked with how deep he reached inside of you now. You thought that you could never get used to how big he was, his girth filling you up to the brim. “Turn around. T-turn around for me.”

“X-xavier slow down, I don’t want you to get hurt—” You managed to choke out, grasping sheets with your hands for some kind of stability. You closed your eyes when they were turning upwards, biting your lip in the process. He felt otherworldly, but you couldn’t help but think about the gash on his back. He shouldn’t strain himself.

“Then turn around and look at me.” He repeated and you shook your head again.

“I-I can’t, I—Ah—”

“W-why do you keep—Mmh—denying me?” His voice came out like a growl and he kept up the fast tempo. Then, he grabbed your shoulder and put his other hand on your lower back, making you bend over more. His thrusts got even faster, making you moan louder. “Like that. Yes.” You breathed quietly. So good. He was so, so good. “I just want to see your face. I need to kiss y—A—Ah—Kiss you so bad, so, so, so bad.” He thrust more deeply, making you involuntarily back out from the stimulation, your body almost collapsing, but he quickly grabbed you with his strong arms, and brought you even closer to him. You saw stars and touched one of the arms that held your whole body — from your waist, between your breasts, to your neck. His arm was so hard, so strong. He was huge compared to you. “No, n-no, don’t run away, star. You feel so good—G-God how I missed this—” He held you closer by the second, pressing more kisses to your shoulders, his thrusts becoming quicker, less deep. You were holding back your tears from how good he felt inside you. “I missed you. I missed you. I miss you.” He started babbling and that’s how you knew he was close.

To your surprise, he suddenly pulled out of you completely and grabbed you by your shoulders, turning you around to finally face him. Before you could show any signs of protest, he lowered himself onto his forearms, caging your head between his biceps so that he could have a perfect view of your face. He took his cock in one of his hands and he slipped himself into you again with ease. You shuddered and cried out softly with astonishment.

“Xavier—!”

“Yes. Yes, that’s my name.” He started thrusting into you again, this time much slower and more attentive, and looked deep into your eyes. You had nowhere to run, the only thing you could do was to close your eyes, but the sight of him so close made you want to never look away. “Say it one more time. Just once.” He looked ethereal, his silver hair wet from the perspiration that gathered on his forehead, and his cheeks painted a pretty shade of red. You could see how blissful he felt. “So p-pretty.” He finally kissed your lips softly. “So sweet.” He licked into your mouth, deepening the kiss. It made your toes curl, you loved when he kissed you this sloppily. When he released your already swollen lips, there was a string of saliva connecting you. It was all so intense.

“Why were you denying my kisses?” He kissed you again deeply, sucking on your tongue. His slow thrusts made you go insane. “You don’t like kissing me like this?” He sucked on your lips until they were red and swollen. There was so much saliva. He licked them and kissed them again. “I could come from this feeling alone. So soft.” You were shocked at how much he talked. Was he always this talkative? Or were you realizing it only now, when you knew that the closeness with him would soon come to an end?

“Am I making you feel good? Yeah?” You decided to nod at him truthfully, your moans short, resembling small hiccups. You were lost in the pleasure; you could feel the end approaching. He put his forehead against yours, breathing heavily. “W—wow, you—you sound so adorable, I won’t last long—” He moaned and grabbed your face in his hands, kissing your nose first, then softly your lips.

“Yes, yeah, let go. Let go my little star. My starlight, my treasure.” He whispered into your ear, feeling you clench down on him as you came with his name on your lips. You felt him reaching the end quickly after you, he shuddered, his mouth opened, and he released into the condom with a low moan. Still cumming, he took your face into his hands and kissed your forehead gently. When you both were still coming down from the high, breathing heavily, he began stroking your hair, pushing it out of your face, and kissing your cheeks.

What in the world was all that?

God, you couldn’t do this anymore. You couldn’t let this keep up, it felt too real, too romantic, and your heart really couldn’t take it. Not when every time you were together like this you keep thinking that he would like you to be someone else instead. Did he imagine her under him this time? You trembled, scared because of that thought, but the things he was saying made you feel that it really could be the case.

Your breath came out shakily and you took his muscular forearms in your palms and grazed them gently with your thumbs. You let yourself feel for the last time how warm his body was, how pleasurable his weight on top of you. You kept your eyes closed to not let him see your tears, but you couldn’t stop one from going down your cheek.

And of course, he saw it as soon as it appeared. He seemed to always look at you when you wanted him to ignore you the most.

He kissed it off, swiped the wetness with his thumb and proceeded to kiss your temple.

“Why are you crying?” He asked softly, his eyebrows furrowed. “Did I hurt you?” He appeared so concerned, and you felt the shivers going down your spine.

Yes, you wanted to scream.

“No, of course not.” You said instead. Because it was your fault for feeling too much. “I’m okay, just tired.” You lied straight to his face. He sent you a small smile and kissed your closed eyelids gently.

And when he shifted and pulled out from you slowly with a little hiss, you let out a sigh and knew that your time with him had to end now.

But before you could lift yourself up, he hugged you from the side and put his head on your chest. He was listening to the sound of your heartbeat, and you already knew that it had a soothing effect on him. His hand started caressing one side of your waist, his hair touching your chin, his scent overlapping you. You could feel his heartbeat on you, fast but steady. Another tear escaped from your eyes. You had to run away. You couldn’t take the closeness anymore. It was too painful.

“Xavier, I—” You swallowed the sob forming in your throat. Your voice came out rusty. “I really need to go.”

“Already? Stay with me for a little while longer.” He squeezed you harder to himself, showing no intention of releasing you from his hold. You hated that you needed to cut short such a vulnerable moment with him. “The night is still young. I thought we could maybe watch something together? Or bake these cinnamon cookies you like? I practiced, they taste and look almost perfect now.” You closed your eyes hard, moved by his thoughtfulness, and you almost sobbed audibly if it wasn’t for your hand quickly covering your mouth.

But he felt it, and it made all the muscles in his body tighten, as if he was struck.

“Star?” He loosened his hold on you and quickly studied your face. “What’s wrong?” His eyes became huge, filled with worry. And that concern on his features was what finally made you run.

You raised gently and pushed yourself from him, starting to pick up your scattered pieces of clothing. Your hands shakily put the panties and your sweater on your trembling body, not once looking Xavier’s way. He was waiting patiently for your answer.

“I can’t do this anymore, Xavier.” You replied, feeling more comfortable now that you had some clothes on. You couldn’t meet his eyes, but you heard him standing up from the bed.

“Do what?” He sounded puzzled. You heard him grabbing and putting on some pants hastily, clicking his belt in place. As if he was preparing to run after you. “Did I do something wrong? You didn’t like it today? Was I too intense?” You had never heard him speak so quickly, and the panic in his tone was a rare occurrence too.

“No, it’s— I am at fault here.” You answered truthfully, and you took a couple steps away from him. You wanted to run as fast as you could but for the love of God, you couldn’t locate any other pieces of your clothing. Your eyesight was clouded by unleashed tears. No, not now, you couldn’t let them fall until you were in the safety of your home.

“But you were perfect.” His voice carried more panic by the second. “We could change some things. You could tell me what to do differently, everything works with me as long as I do it with you.”

You suddenly remembered the beginning of your night, and rushed to his living room, were you finally found your pants.

“No. No, and please stop trying to persuade me. This—this friends with benefits thing, it ends now.” You uttered surely, now fully clothed. You turned around and finally laid your eyes on him, and saw him wearing only black jeans and a miserable expression on his face. God, he still looked perfect. He almost shined, the workout clearly visible on his face, his hair, his lips. Your resolution almost wavered.

“Okay. Okay, of course, I—I understand.” He answered quickly, and you felt a slight pang in your chest at how easily he took the news. This whole time you were so easily disposable. “But please stay. I want to spend some time with you, I haven’t seen you in such a long time.” He took a careful step towards you, and you wanted to bolt then and there. “Please, stay.”

“No, Xai, I—” You paused to take a breath, trying not to crumble in front of him. His worried expression felt like a knife to your chest. You were his best friend, yet here you were, clearly wanting to run away from him—how could you expect him to feel anything but hurt upon such a sight? You felt incredibly cruel. “I really can’t. I think I need a break from all—all of this.”

“You mean from me?” He didn’t wait for your answer, the thoughts in his head seemed to go quicker than lightning. “No, please, I swear that if you don’t like it then I won’t touch you anymore. I swear.” You hated how upset he sounded. You closed your eyes for a second and fresh tears slipped away. You couldn’t keep them from falling anymore. “You know how much you mean to me. Don’t make me stay away.” He looked as if you were tearing his heart out, his posture slumped, hands shaking. How you wished you could take them into your own and warm them up.

“I have to.” Your voice came out whiny. He stepped closer to you, keeping his arms in front of himself.

“But why?” His question was quiet, nearly a whisper. He couldn’t help but wonder, if you really wanted a break from him, then why were you crying as if you didn’t want to go?

“I—” You stopped yourself before going as far as to utter a confession. He couldn’t know. Not now. Not ever. “This— This situation, and how our friendship looks like right now it’s—it’s so wrong.” You opted for a response that was the closest to the truth.

“It’s not.” He replied immediately. “Not for me.”

“Well it is for me. Friends don’t sleep with each other, Xavier! We messed up so bad this time and I’m afraid we can’t let this past us.”

“Do you regret it that much?” His voice was losing its’ strength, and he seemed so utterly hurt. Meanwhile, you were just trying to protect yourself from feeling even more pain. How could you make him understand without confessing to him? You didn’t really know because you were always honest with him before. He was your safe place.

And to think that everything could be avoided, your friendship left unscratched if only you could control your feelings better. But you had no idea how to stop loving him so deeply, when he was everything that you’ve ever dreamed of.

“I should. I know that I should, it was never going to end well, I—”

“Stay. Please, starlight, stay. At least for one more night, let me hold you just for one more—” His arms went out to grab you and you flinched, taking a few steps back. His jaw tightened.

He was always afraid that he will see you run away from his touch. He felt as if his nightmare became reality - the thought of losing you too much for him to bear.

“Xavier, I can’t!” You trembled all over. Why did he make this so hard for you? “I can’t do this with you anymore, can’t you understand how much it hurts me?” The truth was at the tip of your tongue, craving to be spoken out loud.

“Why? Why does it hurt you? The only one who has a good reason to be hurt is me, you avoided me, ignored me, and for what? If you just talked to me honestly one time—”

“You are in love with someone else!”

The silence that followed was unbearable and seemed to last ages. Slow ticking of the clock was the only thing cutting through the tension, reminding you that the time didn’t stop, even if your heart seemed to do so.

You turned to him, the tears falling from your eyes in cascades now and your chest was coming up and down rapidly with how fast you were breathing.

The tears run down your cheeks quickly, making your vision less blurry. How you wished that they stayed in place, if that meant that you wouldn’t have to see Xavier’s pained expression, that quickly changed into one of utter confusion. You were shaking with how much you were feeling, your frustration pooling out of you in a form of shaking hands and bitten lips.

“I can’t continue being like this with you when I know that you’re in love with her! And I get it! I really do. She’s so wonderful, and so, so lovable. And I could never be her, no matter how much you would want me to be. I just don’t want to be a replacement anymore.” You continued, the desperation in your voice almost making you wince. You sounded pathetic and felt so embarrassed for it. You felt as if you were losing the ground beneath your feet.

“What?” He said completely stunned. He wasn’t moving a single muscle. “What on earth are you talking about?” He hissed, and took a step towards you, and when you shook your head and wanted to bolt through the door, he quickly grabbed you by your wrist and pressed your body close to his. You gasped at the contact, so sudden and forced. “No, stop running away from me!” He raised his voice, still holding your wrist tightly. You’ve never heard him sound so irritated. “Speak.” You kept your head low, when he was desperately trying to catch eye contact, but you couldn’t look at him right now. Not when your true feelings were basically flowing to the surface.

“About what? You really thought I didn’t know about your feelings for her?” You struggled to keep your voice from shaking. “Xavier, I know, and I knew from the very beginning, and you really don’t have to explain yourself to me. I really understand.” You tried to free your wrist from his grasp, but he held it too tightly. You needed to run, this conversation wasn’t supposed to happen, you didn’t even have a reason to be mad at him. You couldn’t blame him for not loving you romantically, nor for feeling this way towards someone else. You were only friends, and friends should be happy for each other when they find someone dear to them, not sick of the idea of losing the other to someone else.

“I’m afraid you actually don’t understand anything.” He sounded almost defeated. His voice back to its soft tone, but his hold on you unrelenting.

“It’s really okay, I—”

“No.” He scoffed. You finally gained enough courage to let your eyes meet his and you were instantly appalled at how furious he appeared to be. “It’s truly NOT.” He released your wrist and put his hands up to stroke his hair back. He breathed out loudly. “Who the fuck are you talking about?” He asked, confusion and irritation taking over his features completely. You never saw him wear that expression while talking with you.

“Oh, don’t make me—” You cut off, seeing his furious glare. You took a deep breath, stepped back from him and touched your cheek, trying to swipe the wetness caused by your tears. You failed, they were still coming down, one by one, making your efforts futile. “MC. You know that I mean MC.”

“You have to be fucking kidding me.” He groaned and let his head fall back. He covered his face with his hands for a second, and when he looked at you again, you couldn’t read his expression correctly. “Who told you about it? Where did you get it from?”

“Jeremiah.” That’s all he needed to know. And apparently it was enough for him to grasp the situation. He laughed humorlessly and shook his head, his hands squeezed tightly into fists by his sides.

“I will strangle him this time. I swear, I will—”

“Oh, please, Xavier, stop! What’s so wrong about me knowing? I was glad that someone finally enlightened me!” You couldn’t believe that he was so angry at you for knowing such an important thing. Not when from the moment Jeremiah said that he had a thing for MC for a long time, you wondered why he kept that a secret from you. “You never even said a word about it even though I thought we were best friends. I had to learn from someone else and that already hurt.” You wanted this conversation to be over. You wanted him to admit to it already and let you go away, with a broken, but at least free heart.

But he had different plans.

“Have you maybe thought that I never said a word about it simply because it wasn’t true?” He asked carefully, his voice still angry. “I just can’t believe you thought that I loved someone else—”

“What?” Your mind went blank. You needed a moment to collect your thoughts. “What do you mean it’s not true?” You sniffed quietly, confusion taking over your face.“B-But Jeremiah said that you had a past with her and—”

“I did. I had feelings for her once, but that was literal lifetimes ago!” His irritation didn’t ease in the slightest. “I had feelings for someone who looked similar to her. But she’s not the same person anymore, and even if she was, I couldn’t possibly fall in love with her. Not now, not ever.” You stopped in your tracks, trying to analyze everything he was saying to you and failing miserably at it. You looked at his face, your expression puzzled, searching for an answer there, hidden between his beautiful, soft features. It shocked you to see that now he started to calm himself down, gaze genuine, an image of complete transparency.

You couldn’t wrap your head around the idea that you were mistaken. All this time, when you thought you never stood a chance, when you thought that he loved another, when you wanted to let him go—

“You’re not in love with MC.” It wasn’t a question anymore, your voice quiet while you were trying to process that thought. He must’ve seen how you fought with the thoughts inside your head, because he released a groan and took a step towards you. You unintentionally took one step back. He frowned.

“Of course I’m not.” Voice sweet like honey, stance sure, his eyes searched desperately for yours. He looked at your face, covered in tears and his eyebrows furrowed deeper, hating how upset you seemed and didn’t know how to reverse it. “How could I ever be, when your face is all I can see, every time I close my eyes?” He uttered looking at you with such devotion that it almost made your knees buckle.

Complete silence took over your thoughts after his confession. You didn’t know what was happening.

But fortunately, his mind finally started to piece everything together in a picture, that although was beyond frustrating to think about, was giving him so much hope for something he thought he already lost.

He allowed himself to relax, took a deep breath and finally decided to drop his inner shackles, letting his emotions flow out of him without restraint.

“You are the one that I love.” He said clearly, not moving a muscle. He wondered if you could see the quick movement of his chest, with how hard his heart was trying to escape through it to reach you. Whereas, you felt as if yours stopped moving completely, along with the time around you, not ready to believe that this was truly happening. “It was you from the very beginning. I adored you since the day I first saw you.” He continued, his gaze piercing into your face, slight confusion visible on his features. “And I thought that was obvious? I wasn’t exactly the best at hiding my feelings, especially after I told you about them the first night we spend together.”

You blinked slowly. Once, then twice.

Your head hurt. You couldn’t wrap it around everything he was saying. Xavier was in love with you? And he already told you about it? You were so confused that the only way you knew how to react was with denial.

“You—You didn’t. I didn’t know, you are not being serious.” He shook his head in disbelief.

“I did. You really don’t remember?” His tone softened, and he waited a short second for your answer, but couldn’t contain his nerves. “It was the night I kissed you for the first time, thinking that would be the last. But you reciprocated.” His eyes gleamed in the moonlight, and you found yourself holding your breath, afraid even the slightest sound might interrupt the flow of his confession.

“You—You kissed me back, and let me do things to you I only ever dared to dream about before.” He took another step your way, a small smile grazing his handsome face. “And the confession slipped out of me so naturally before we even reached the bed.” He briefly recalled that fateful night, describing the conversations you forgot, but longed to remember since that very moment.

“You didn’t reply, but you responded nicely to my touch, so I thought that meant that you wanted me too, that maybe you’d accept me. As your beloved. Your soulmate.” You brought your hand to cover your mouth. You couldn’t believe it. “But then in the morning when you woke up, you were panicking. I tried to reassure you, but you weren’t listening to me.”

That part of the story you knew by heart, him telling you that he couldn’t forget, didn’t want to forget. Back then you didn’t connect it with anything close to confession, but more with the change in your relationship. You really didn’t want to jump to any conclusions, you didn’t even dream about him loving you, when you thought that he loved MC. Insecurities and false assumptions completely clouded your vision.

“And when you proposed staying friends, with the bonus of intimacy, of course I took the chance. I thought you remembered my confession and didn’t reciprocate my feelings, but I was so desperate that I would take anything you were willing to give me, even if it didn’t involve your love. I—” he cut off, blush flushed over his cheeks, up to the tips of his ears. He took a shaky breath. “I was clinging to the hope that maybe through the new shared intimacy I could show you how much you meant to me. And maybe, maybe someday you would start feeling the same, when you realized how good we are together and how good I can be for you.”

“Xavier—Oh my god.” You breathed, your hand still covering your mouth, your eyes never leaving his face. His beautiful, starstruck face, now so full of confusion and unspoken hurt. “Bunny, I’m so, so, so sorry. I had no idea, I—” Your voice practically a whisper, you were still coming to terms with the fact that your feelings were reciprocated. And that you were the one who complicated things between you. “I don’t remember anything you said to me that night. I couldn’t even hear you through the sound of my own blood thrumming in my ears, that’s how drunk I felt. How overwhelmed after our first kiss.”

The alcohol consumed that night also wasn’t of big help. You were a lightweight and you drunk only occasionally, so the few drinks you had already made you feel dizzy. Mixed with the intensity of your emotions, it overwhelmed you so intensely that his touch was all you could remember from that night. But now you could make it all alright.

“I only remember your touch, the things we did, and our conversation the next morning. I remember touching your hand and initiating the kiss, and my tipsy brain just thought that you went with it to forget about MC.” You said truthfully, letting it all pour out of you. Your cheeks burned with the embarrassment of admitting how desperate you were for him, that the thought he loved another didn’t stop you from having sex with him.

Then the blush deepened from the realization that from the very beginning the only one he was thinking about was you.

This thought made your head spin, the happiness slowly bubbling in your chest. Your whole body trembled.

“That’s— Fuck. You really don’t remember.” He shook his head again, realizing how deep the misunderstanding reached. “You didn’t initiate anything. I was the one who kissed you first.”

“No, I—”

“Yes. You touched my hand, smiled at me contentedly and said some things and I—I just couldn’t restrain myself any longer.” This time you were the one who started approaching him slowly. You needed him close. Always. And you realized that now you didn’t have any reasons to deny yourself that lack of distance. “You looked so soft, so open and kissable, and I just went for it. And then you reciprocated.” The light in his eyes started sparkling when he noticed that you were finally coming closer to him. He reached out his hand for you and you took it gently, still shaking from the unspoken emotions.

“I can’t believe it. All this time I thought that you were in love with someone else.” His hand was warm, the touch electrifying. You squeezed his hand and intertwined your fingers together. You saw how between your clasped hands, his Evol started shining brightly, shading soft light upon your features. It was a sign that he was excited. “I tried to put a distance between us, end this intimacy because I thought that I was just a second best for you. An easy distraction.”

“How could you think that? Almost from the moment I met you, I have loved you passionately—” He brought you even closer together, pulling you by your intertwined hands, and put his other hand on your cheek. He swiped the reminder of your tears with his fingers, looking into your eyes with a devotion so apparent that it took your ability to form coherent thoughts. How did you manage to miss the way he was always looking your way?

“X-Xavier.”

“I couldn’t even think about anyone else even if I tried to. You occupy my every thought. How could I ever find a place for somebody else in my heart when you fill the space out completely?” Everything that came out of his mouth was laced with impatience. He was trying so hard to make you understand him, and the intensity of his emotions. He couldn’t psychically hold it inside anymore, he restrained himself for so long that he felt as if all of his walls finally crumbled. He needed you to know everything.

“I love you, starlight. I’m so in love with you that I couldn’t contain that feeling inside anymore. I couldn’t even spend five minutes in your presence without trying to touch you, to kiss you, to hold you. My whole body longs for you constantly.” He said, thinking about the months after you started being friends with benefits. How at first, he wasn’t sure how much he could take from you, and then, when he noticed that you didn’t mind the affection outside the bedroom, he couldn’t contain himself. He kissed you every time he had a chance, he touched you everywhere he could, he was trying to stay away from you as little as possible. Despite thinking that you did not reciprocate his feelings fully, his love for you flowed out of him naturally, every look and every touch laced with unconditional devotion.

During the period of your silence and avoiding him, he thought that it was because he finally crossed a line. He let his feelings out too much, he finally made you uncomfortable. He was starting to act as you lover, not as your friend and it wasn’t what you agreed to. He thought you still didn’t love him and maybe that was a sign that you never will. And even if that could be the case, he still couldn’t let you go.

And it appeared that he didn’t have to.

That you were not uncomfortable, but unsure.

That it was all a huge misunderstanding.

And the words that came out of your pretty, little mouth next, almost brought him to his knees.

“Xavier. Xavier me too, I—” You stuttered, completely overwhelmed by how much you were feeling. You squeezed his wrists, and looked deep into his beautiful, hopeful eyes. “I love you too. And I fell in love with you long before our first night together. I just thought that it was wishful thinking, because your heart was already taken by someone else. And that I could just stay beside you as your friend and that would be enough. And then share your bed from time to time, if that meant that I could hold you close, be on the receiving end of your affection.” You said and raised on your feet to place a quick kiss on his lips. He chased after you instantly, despite appearing stunned. You noticed his hands were shaking.

“You really mean it?” He asked, leaning towards you, kissing your lips again, this time for longer. He had trouble keeping his mouth away from yours, especially now, that he knew that every one of your kisses was filled with love. “Am I not dreaming this time?” You smiled and stroked his hair affectionately, petting his head, wanting to convey your feelings in every way possible.

“Xavier, I love you.” You repeated, grabbing his head in your palms and looking deep into his eyes. Your voice was strong, leaving no room for uncertainty. “I love you so mu—” He didn’t let you finish that sentence, because he quickly picked you up and spun you around, holding you in his arms. You giggled and put your arms around his neck, holding him tightly, his face buried in your neck. When he stopped, he quickly found your lips again and that kiss felt groundbreaking.

He held you close to him, one hand squeezing you by your waist, and the other holding your jaw gently. His brows furrowed in desperation and his kisses were slow, sensual, sending pleasant shocks throughout your whole body. His tongue made an appearance, and he tasted you in a way that made your legs feel like jelly. He licked into your mouth, grunting lowly, his fingers placing a strand of your hair behind your ear, then tracing patterns on your warm cheek. When you opened your eyes for a second, you could see that the tips of his ears were red. The blush spread through his cheeks too, making him look so adorable.

“It does feel like a dream.” He breathed between kisses. “And sounds too good to be true.” He captured your lips again and you smiled into his mouth. Your heart was about to burst.

“I love you.” You repeated, basking in the feeling of finally being able to say it out loud, be open with your emotions. He released your lips and kissed your forehead. You looked up, and he placed his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, a wide smile adorning his face.

“Don’t stop saying that. You make me so happy.” He said quietly, and you whispered the confession once again, making him sigh shakily.

“I was so stupid. I should’ve asked you right from the start if what Jeremiah said was true.” You said and hugged him more tightly. “I should’ve told you sooner.” You placed your head on his strong chest, your ear touching his bare body, listening to his fast heartbeat. Your hands were hugging his waist, mindful not to touch his bandaged back.

“No, I foolishly thought that telling you once would suffice. I forgot that you drank that night and that could’ve clouded your memory.” He squeezed you harder to himself and started back away with you in his arms, until the back of his legs touched his couch. He fell into it, holding you close, making you sit on his lap. “To think that I could have you sooner—” He looked into your eyes, as if searching for something.

“You had me before, and you have me now. My heart, my body, my soul.” You positioned yourself more comfortably, placing your legs on both sides of his waist, and took his face into your hands. He closed his eyes at the contact, and started to caress your body, from your waist, down to your legs. He squeezed the plush of your tights and let his head fall against the couch pillows.

He couldn’t believe that this was happening. He prayed that this wasn’t a dream, that all of the things you were telling him were true. His chest vibrated pleasurably, incredible warmth spreading through it. His heart beat so quickly, and so loudly that he thought it was the first time he felt its’ beat so intensely himself. Your words made him feel drunk with emotion.

He opened his eyes to look at your face.

He almost choked with how beautiful you were. How divine, sitting on him, caressing his shoulders, smiling at him with the stars in your eyes. He looked at your lips, full and swollen, bearing the signs of his kisses. He looked at your neck, delicate and unmarked, and he stroked it with the back of his hand, wanting to change that fact immediately, knowing that now he was allowed to do that. He switched his gaze to your eyes again and drank them in, basking in their light, wishing that this moment could never end. Or maybe it should, so it could become your new beginning.

You were his treasure. His star, his light, guiding him through life, making his existence worth pursuing. You showed him that the world can be beautiful, despite its overbearing cruelty. You were his salvation, his safe place, his one and only, showing him every single day that he mattered, that he was not a lost cause, or a villain in disguise. You taught him that he was capable of loving so intensely and now, that he was loved as passionately in return.

He doubted his worth, but the only way he knew to prove his love for you was by protecting you with his very life. You had no idea, but his sword, now a symbol of your bond, was yours to command—and you were the only reason he continued to wield it.

“What are you thinking about?” Your voice was not more than a whisper, your eyes still looking into his starry ones, losing yourself in the deep blue. You loved them, how magnificent and expressive they were, and you swore to yourself to tell him about it every day.

He seemed to get out of the trace he was in, and his eyes softened, still taking you in. He smiled and took your hands into his, and kissed your knuckles, his kisses gentle and long-lasting.

“You.” He replied shortly, his voice gentle and reassuring. He put your hands on his shoulders, making you hug his neck with them. You complied and put your whole arms around his neck, bringing your bodies closer. One of his hands touched your waist, caressing it delicately, and the other one stroked your hair, admiring its’ softness. His eyes never left yours. “Always you, my starlight. Then, now, and till the end of my days. I will always carry you in my mind, and in my heart, to be able to reach you, no matter the distance.” You could feel his breath on your face with how close you were to each other, and he gazed at your open lips, which were already waiting to be kissed senselessly. “I love you, as I never loved anyone else in my life, and I never will again.” His lips captured yours in a kiss so soft, yet so desperate, and full of adoration, that you felt a single, happy tear escape from your eye. He deepened the kiss and held you throughout the night, kissing you and touching you, never wanting the moment to end, the warmth of your skin to become a memory.

It all started with the simplest of touches, and it never truly ended. The spark you ignited that first night has never faded. Since the moment you met, it has burned brightly between you both, a light so powerful that it could be seen across the vastness of deep space. Everlasting and exquisite, just like the different lifetimes you both had ahead of you, always finding each other, as if guided by its warmth.

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thank you for your time and please let me know if you liked it!! i was thinking of writing more for this au, maybe from xavier’s perspective? how they met and how he fell in love + how their first night really played out ♡

if u liked it, u can buy me a coffee here!: https://buycoffee.to/mochiwrites

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