#more and more i feel like i've cracked it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thewidowsledger · 23 hours ago

Text

Fallen Demon

Pairings: Demon!Natasha Romanoff x Summoner!Female Reader

Word count: 3.6k

Tags | Warnings: ANGST, bullying, FLUFF happy ending please trust me, this is my 'I lied put your clothes back on' trend entry

Author's Note: I honestly didn't feel satisfied with the first one I wrote since it was a rush, and I felt like I didn't give justice to the request of 🍠 this was still a rush since I wrote it in a 6-hours bus ride👉👈 but it came out the way I wanted to be and I hope y'all will like it as well. The real reason I wrote this is because of Hozier's DIWK cover, fudge I need it tattooed with every fiber of my being!

Navigation | Masterlist | Part 1

⧗

"I had to, and you must say it."

"No, no, please I can't. I cannot."

"Princess, please," Natasha pleaded, desperation lacing her voice as she called out to you. She never kneeled before altars nor had prayed to Gods, but never had she felt this urge, this need to be understood, to be heard, by a mere human.

⧗

A deep, foreboding sigh escaped her lips as she stood before the ritual circle, the symbols of summoning etched into the floor.

"How foolish," she muttered to himself, "to bind oneself to such a malevolent force once more." Then, she turned around to see you, kneeling on the floor.

Her smirk faltered as she beheld your naked body stiffed on the cold stone floor, head bowed submissively. The portal pulsed with an eerie light, casting long shadows across your trembling silhouette. Her eyes narrowed, curiosity and concern warring in their obsidian depths.

"To…what do I owe the pleasure, princess?"

You slowly looked at her, the fire burning in her eyes was washed with the tears that you had in yours.

"C-can you say I'm beautiful?"

With a wry chuckle that seemed too old for her youthful visage, she stepped closer, her bare feet silent on the stone floor. "Princess, your request is as intriguing as it is foolish. Summoning a demon for mere sweet words? Truly, the lengths humans go to…"

You felt a strange warmth of shame spread through your chest as you bobbed your throat, you forced yourself not to let any tear slide down from your eyes.

Her powerful form seemed to shrink as she saw the memories in your eyes. The laughter, the whispers, the isolation. You being called names, you eating in a comfort cubicle and you crying for being locked inside it.

I hate myself.

She heard it, she heard your thoughts. Her eyebrows furrowed as she suddenly grasped the depth of your despair, your self-loathing thoughts echoing loudly in the silence between you. She clenched her jaw but it cracked, giving way to a softer expression.

Summoning a demon for a mere compliment, trading your body, having your soul sucked for words. It was indeed stupid. Desperate. Foolish. Absur—

"Stop those thoughts of yours, princess. They're too loud and not good for someone like you." Her voice had an unexpected caring tone that made you hitch your breath. "Dress yourself, I don't want you catching a cold."

She watched as you scrambled to gather the folded clothes, her supernatural grace contrasting sharply with your human clumsiness. Her observant gaze fell upon the bruises marring your skin and the gum stuck in your hair.

She really tried her hardest not to take you from there.

Her eyes roamed over your improved appearance, a glimmer of approval in her gaze. "Much better," she acknowledged with a nod. "I like the shirt but it is practically a dress on you. Are you auditioning for a role in a horror film?"

You let out a giggle and the sound was music to her ears. "It's all I got, everything's in the laundry." You spoke shyly, tucking a hair behind your ear.

Then, her gaze drifted around your small room, taking in the cramped space with a hint of disdain. "Your room is...cozy," she commented, her tone laced with sarcasm. "I've slept in closets larger than this."

You laughed again, hell, she would thank Jesus for that laugh.

"It's my apartment," you started, "the one you've been to before was my bestfriend's house which was miles away."

"The witch's house," she muttered and you nodded, her lip curling slightly as she remembered the eerie atmosphere of the place. "No wonder it felt...off whenever I was there. It reeked of herbs and spell components. Anyway, has she noticed anything unusual about her beloved houseplant yet?"

Well, the plant was still the same, and your bestfriend hasn't noticed anything when she came back, only your disheveled state and the eerie vibes she said your aura is giving during that day. And she, in fact, did a cleansing ritual on you while you were asleep, you were grateful to still woke up but choking with the smell of her cleansing stick candles and her muttering some gibberish witch prayers you god knows what.

"It's still okay, don't worry." You offered her a reassuring smile as you sat on your bed looking up at her huge form, she is literally having a hard time leaning down since height is much higher than your ceiling. "We can sit on the floor." You said, and then you moved to an indian sit form.

She then hesitantly copied your movements, her big legs folding between each other. "Don't be so sure about that, witches have really strong senses and intuition." She groaned as she finally sat across you, the ritual circle between you both.

"You're being bullied, aren't you?" The accusation hung heavy in the air.

Her gaze narrowed as she studied your face, taking in the faint bruises that are now hidden in your big shirt, the slight limp in your step, the way you always seemed to be on edge. And then a wad of gum stuck to your hair, a cruel prank meant to humiliate you.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back tears. Your head was ducked, hiding your face behind a curtain of hair as you stared at your crossed thighs. The silence was deafening, broken only by the soft sniffles you were trying desperately to suppress. You then slowly nodded and removed your eyeglasses to messily wipe your tears.

Your parents decided to send you abroad to study, and you were utterly culture shocked by the prevalence of bullying. You hadn't expected that the portrayal of bullying from the movie and series you watched in high school was actually reflecting reality. What's worse is you didn't see that it would happen to you. From being homeschooled to having to go abroad to study, it was the most difficult thing. You only had one friend, Wanda, and she is not here to comfort or protect you the way she did when you were just kids. Wanda had even told you to get the used tissue or get a strand of hair from your bullies and have it sent to her so she could handle the business, but you would just laugh at your witch friend during call with your swollen eyes and reassure her that you could handle it on your own and toughen up.

You are grown now and you told yourself that eventually you need to protect yourself from others, you cannot rely on your family or Wanda in your entire life. But the thought of standing up for yourself felt impossible. All you longed for was someone to step in and put an end to the torment, and you had no idea how to protect yourself from others when you were so worn down by it all.

"You could've asked me to return the favor to your bullies…" she spoke carefully but with a little bit of threat.

Now, you shook your head side by side. "Aren't you supposed to be enjoying this?" you asked, your voice trembling as tears welled up in your eyes. "I mean, you're a demon. Shouldn't you be relishing in my pain and suffering? You should be enjoying people doing cruelty to others. That's how you feed yourselves, with the sin of mankind."

"Princess," she sighed deeply, like she is disappointed but she is. "Is that why you were naked earlier? You ask something of me and I…take you in return so you just prepared yourself right away?"

Her gaze burned to you as well as the shame burning like a hot iron in your skin.

"It's not that I, as a demon, necessarily enjoy your pain and suffering for my own sake."

She took a moment to compose herself before continuing, carefully choosing her words to ensure you would understand. As she spoke, you drew your knees up inside the oversized shirt you were wearing, making yourself smaller and more vulnerable as you listened intently.

"You see," she began, her voice soft but firm, "I…I was born this way. I was born a demon, and my purpose is to be a punisher of those who have done wrong."

As soon as the words left her lips, she paused, studying your expression to see how you were processing what she had just said and to make sure you're not uncomfortable about it. Then, she continued, "I don't feed myself with sinful acts or relish in anyone's suffering, princess. Instead, I feed on those who have made…contracts with me. That's how I sustain myself. That doesn't mean I am delighted to do it."

"Hey," you crawled and sat right in front of her, your knees touching hers. "You may be a demon but you're not evil. I know that."

The demon's mouth was wide open as she stared at you in disbelief. Your words had struck a chord within her, leaving her stunned and speechless. She had never encountered a human who saw past her demonic nature, let alone voiced their belief aloud so confidently.

"Do I make you suffer?"

"What? No."

"No, when I come to visit you whenever for…for the contract. Do you feel pain whenever I…whenever I…take you?" The demon never stuttered not until this day.

You reached her face and caressed your thumb on her cheeks, "No." It was just one word but you hope it was enough to reassure the burning demon.

She doesn't take joy in sin. Especially not yours, she would punish herself for it. Her purpose is to punish those who commit it and feed herself with those who willingly and mistakenly entered into contracts with her by taking pieces of their souls. You were binded with her and she had come and taken you twelve times as you can remember. And now, you summoned her once again, making it more difficult for either of you to break the bound unless for one thing.

The demon couldn't deny it anymore, she had grown…attached to you, even though she tried to keep her emotions in check. She cannot help but notice how your laughter and hums had filled her with an unfamiliar sense of warmth. How you had clung to her after she had just ripped your innocence bit by bit and pounded a piece of your soul out of you, and after, you would still be asking when she would come back. That's why she would painfully leave as soon as your eyes had fluttered shut as you drifted off to sleep so she wouldn't have to deal with your questioning right after you wake up.

She had taken a piece of your innocence and soul, yet the purity and naivety in your eyes remained intact. This world is too brutal and cruel for someone as precious as you, and all she longed to do was shield you from its harshness.

But a demon couldn't. You are wrong, she was evil—she is evil—her very nature is inherently evil. She was consuming you bit by bit, feeding herself with your soul leaving you weak. She was the very threat she sought to safeguard you against.

She was never terrified of anything or any Gods, not until she thought how your laughter would not bring warmth the hell couldn't bring her. She was horrified at the idea of taking so much of your soul that your laughter would no longer bring the same joy and comfort.

She has to protect you from her, from consuming you more until there is nothing left from you.

She will not be the reason you will lose that light.

"My name's Natasha." The demon spoke after the long silence and staring.

You frowned and quickly rose to your feet, "No, no," Natasha watched you paced back and forth to your apartment. "Why did you tell me your name?!" You shouted, the tears are already falling down the ritual circle beneath you. "Why?!"

"I had to, and you must say it."

"No, no, please I can't. I cannot."

"No! Fireball, that's your name! That's what we agreed upon on what I'll call you!" You shut your eyes in denial, that was the silly nickname you gave her since she didn't want to give her name when you first summoned her. At first you were determined to know it so you would break the contract, but as soon as her visitation became more frequent, that mission was long forgotten.

"Why?!" her demon voice thundered through the room, it was the first time you heard her voice like that again, and you swear you feel like the whole building felt it. "Every human I've ever bound would go to lengths just to know my name, just to break away from me!" She roared, her eyes blazing with demonic fire. "Why?! Wouldn't you say it?!"

"Because I love you, Natasha! I love you!"

Her eyes widening as she stared at you, the demonic fire in his eyes flickering in shock. She blinked, once, twice, trying to process the words that had just escaped your lips.

"I never liked my name not until I heard you say it." She spoke with a solemn smile.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you realized what you just did, you frantically dropped to your knees before her. "No!" you exclaimed, your voice breaking with desperation as you reached out to cup her face in your hands. "Please, I take it back! I take it back!" you pleaded, your heart aching with regret.

"Hey, it's okay." Natasha's hand moved to gently hold your right hand that is on her face. "But that's not how it works, princess."

Demons are said to be creatures of fire and brimstone, devoid of human emotions and incapable of shedding tears. But tears streamed down her burning eyes, their tracks visible on her smooth skin.

Your breath caught in your throat as you watched her begin to glow, a faint, otherworldly light emanating from her form. You are helpless, unable to utter anything but the anguished plea of 'no's' as it left your lips on repeat.

"N-no…" Your body trembled, your tears streaming down your face as you shook your head sideways, then, you put the side of your head into her chest as if you're trying to hear her heartbeat, "No, please," you repeated once again, your voice choked with emotion. "I didn't mean to say it. I can't lose you, please."

You want to be with her, even if the means is her consuming you inch by inch, even if you're going to feel every bits of it.

"Please, say my name one more time. I like hearing you say it." Holding back tears, you shook your head defiantly, burying your face against her chest. Slowly, you looked up into her eyes, a broken, tear-stained mess.

You would meet the ends of hell to be with her.

Tenderly, Natasha reached out to touch your face, her touch gentle and warm. Her fingers grazed your skin as she softly cupped your cheeks, her eyes locking onto yours. A small, bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she gently caressed your face with her thumb.

"I didn't know what I did for God to bring you to me. But I would thank Him profoundly," she whispered, her words quivering slightly. "For you are an angel sent from heaven, a beautiful, unexpected gift. One that is unworthy of a demon."

You would beg God to be with her.

Your lips quivered, you shook your head once more, slowly and deliberately, as if trying to reject the reality unfolding before your eyes.

"I've never been to heavens not until I met you, Natasha..."

"I love you, Y/N. Know that our love will bind us together, always. So long, princess."

The knock at your door jerked you out of your dazed state, suddenly jolting you back to reality. You blinked, bewildered and disoriented, trying to make sense of the jumble of confusing emotions and disjointed memories swirling in your mind and in front of you. You couldn't recall what had happened, why there was a ritual circle beneath where you were kneeling, or why you were a sobbing mess, repeating a name that was now lost in your tongue.

"Hey! Are you okay there?!"

⧗

The senior night was in full swing, students were dancing and having a great time. But there you were slumped in your chair. You just didn't have the energy to get up and dance.

Some of your classmates came to ask if you wanted to dance, but you politely turned them down. You watched as everyone else seemed to be having the time of their lives. You tugged at the fabric, trying to get it to sit right on your shoulders. You fidgeted with the lace trim around the neckline, running your fingers over the delicate design. The more you fiddled with it, the more you began to realize how uncomfortable the gown truly was.

As you were messing with your gown, a voice suddenly spoke up next to you. "Hey, did you hear about Tracy?" asked your classmate Darcy as she took the seat beside you. "The one that sticked a juicyfruit in your hair in 2nd year?"

You looked up at Darcy, a deep sigh escaping your lips, "Yeah, it's not exactly something I want to remember. Cutting my hair shorter than I wanted wasn't fun."

Then Darcy said with a grin, "Well? That bitch wasn't here at the party because someone shaved her hair off during a sorority sleepover."

Your eyes widened in shock as you turned your full attention to her. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. "You're kidding, right?" you asked in not wanting to believe it. "But she's the president."

Darcy nodded her head eagerly, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "It's true, eyebrows included too,' she said between laughs, clearly enjoying the shock on your face. "And, and, and remember Aris, the guy that sparred with you in gym class even though you told him you were just a yellow belt and he's a black belt? And you were almost sent to the hospital?"

"Yeah..?" Now that's a core memory of yours that you could only cringe when you remember it on a sunny day.

"Asshole lost his national tournament and he got injured for life after his sparring with the freshie transferee."

"Freshie transferee?" you dumbfoundedly asked.

"Yeah," Darcy nodded, trying to be demure once again after she just unleashed a not-so-very demure laugh. "So yeah…I'm just here to deliver that information, I feel like you have a right to since those fuckers did you wrong back then."

"Please have fun, Y/N, c'mon!" Darcy shouted as she was practically being dragged to the dancefloor by her date, Jimmy.

You sat frozen in your chair, your mouth hanging open in complete shock at what she had just revealed to you. Those two left a scar on you that is still healing up to this day, but still, after hearing what happened to them, you felt bad.

After a few moments, you shook your head, realizing that you needed to get out of there. The room was starting to feel stuffy and suffocating. You stood up from your chair and made your way toward the door, knowing that some fresh air would do you good.

The cool night air was refreshing as you stepped outside, and you took a deep breath, appreciating the moment of solitude.

But then a voice broke through the silence, "This party was a mess, huh?"

There was something about the voice that sounded oddly familiar to you. It was as if you had heard it before, but you couldn't quite place it. But still, you continued standing with your back to the stranger, not feeling the need to turn and address whoever they are. You simply minded your own business, enjoying your fresh air.

"I like your gown."

You were in the middle of rolling your eyes in annoyance, prepared to tell whoever was trying to talk to you to leave you alone. But as soon as you caught sight of the fiery haired girl wearing a suit, you felt intimidated and her face seemed incredibly familiar to you, and your initial reaction was to squint to try and place where you had seen her before.

"T-thanks," you replied, your cheeks burning up.

"Got a name?"

You managed to stammer out a response. "I uhm...it's Y/N," you said, feeling a bit self-conscious.

"Beautiful." She said before slowly walking towards you. "They call me freshie transferee which is so lame by the way."

"Wait…so you're—"

"My name's Natasha."

"Natasha…" you couldn't help but repeat her name softly, feeling a sense of familiarity in the way it rolled off your tongue. You swore to yourself, you have uttered the name before in so many ways.

Then, suddenly, her hand gently touched your face, causing you to snap back to reality. You locked eyes with her fiery gaze.

"You are as beautiful as the day I lost you."

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff au #natasha romanoff fanfic #black widow

191 notes · View notes

mcrdvcks · 16 hours ago

Text

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

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

word count: 9.5k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

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

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

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

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

series masterlist

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

It felt wrong.

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

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

Logan grunted, “maybe you should’ve.”

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

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

“What?” you asked, tilting her head.

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

But it wasn’t nothing. It was everything.

---

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

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

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

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

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

Except it hadn’t.

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

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

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

It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Care to elaborate?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Logan—”

But he was already walking away.

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Remember what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wanda, I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry.”

---

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You exhaled slowly, sitting back on the bed. “Logan, why does it matter if it’s real or not? If it feels real—if we’re together, happy—why can’t that be enough for you?”

Logan let out a sharp breath, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Because you died, Y/N,” he snapped, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “I held you, felt your heartbeat stop. I buried you, darlin’. That’s real. That’s what I remember.”

The room fell silent except for the faint hum of the lamp. You looked at him, your expression unreadable, before speaking softly. “And now I’m here.”

“That ain’t how it works!” Logan growled, his voice rising before he caught himself. He ran a hand through his hair, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he tried to rein in his frustration. “People don’t just come back. Not like this. You know it, Wanda knows it, and—dammit—you should know it too.”

“I know you’re hurting,” you said, leaning forward and placing a hand on his arm. “But what if this was her way of fixin’ things? Of givin’ us another chance?”

Logan stared at your hand on his arm, his jaw clenching tightly. “She didn’t ‘fix’ anything,” he said after a long pause, his voice low. “She twisted it. Made somethin’ up ‘cause she couldn’t face the truth. That’s not the same.”

“And what’s the truth, Logan?” you challenged, your voice firm but still gentle. “That I’m gone? That you’re supposed to just keep going, living in that pain forever? What’s wrong with her wantin’ to take some of that away?”

Logan’s eyes flicked to yours, a storm brewing behind them. “It ain’t about me, darlin’. It’s about you. She’s playin’ with your life like it’s a toy, like it’s somethin’ she can rewrite when she feels like it.”

You hesitated, your grip on his arm tightening slightly. “If I’m here now—if I get to wake up every day and see you, talk to you, love you—then maybe it’s worth it.”

He stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. “You don’t understand,” he said, pacing a few steps before turning back to face you. “When this falls apart—and it will—it’s gonna tear us both to pieces. Again.”

“Maybe it won’t,” you countered, standing to meet his gaze. “Maybe it can last.”

Logan scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re just sayin’ that ‘cause she made sure you’d believe it.”

“Or maybe,” you said, your voice rising slightly, “I’m sayin’ it ‘cause I want to believe it. Because I choose to.”

The weight of your words hung between you, the space between you both charged with unspoken emotions. Logan’s fists clenched at his sides, his chest heaving as he stared at you.

“You really think this is what you want?” he asked, his tone softer but still laced with frustration. “To live in somethin’ that ain’t real, just ‘cause it feels good?”

“Yes,” you said simply, your voice unwavering. “Because being with you? It feels right.”

Logan closed his eyes for a moment, his shoulders slumping slightly. When he looked at you again, there was something raw and vulnerable in his gaze. “You deserve better than some fake life, Y/N. You deserve somethin’ real.”

You stepped closer, placing your hand on his cheek. He didn’t pull away. “And maybe, for me, this is real. You’re here. I’m here. That’s all I need.”

His hand came up to cover yours, his calloused fingers rough against your skin. “Darlin’,” he murmured, his voice breaking slightly, “if I lose you again...”

“You won’t,” you whispered, your thumb brushing his cheek. “I’m here, Logan. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

He didn’t respond, just pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if you might disappear at any moment. The warmth of his embrace was familiar, comforting, and for a moment, it felt like maybe you could convince him. Maybe you could make him believe.

But deep down, you knew Logan’s grip on reality was stronger than your faith in this world.

---

“Hey! I was gonna ask you to explain quantum—” Peter cut himself off from his excited question, only to quickly turn his head behind him like he sensed something.

“Peter?” you asked, tilting your head as you watched him freeze mid-step. “Everything alright?”

Peter blinked rapidly, his usual boyish energy dimmed as his gaze darted between you and the empty hallway behind him. He scratched the back of his neck, forcing a sheepish smile. “Yeah, yeah. Totally fine. Just thought I heard something, but, uh, guess it was nothing. Mansion’s old, you know? Creaky floors and all that.”

You narrowed your eyes, not quite buying his excuse. “Since when do creaky floors freak you out? You’re Spider-Man, Peter.”

He laughed nervously, adjusting the strap of his backpack. “True, but, you know, sometimes even Spider-Men get spooked by weird noises. Occupational hazard.”

“Uh-huh,” you replied, crossing your arms. “What were you gonna ask me before you got distracted?”

“Oh, right!” Peter brightened slightly, though there was still a flicker of unease in his expression. “I was gonna ask if you could explain quantum entanglement again. I swear, I’ve read about it like a million times, but my brain just refuses to cooperate.”

Before you could answer, Logan’s voice echoed from down the hallway. “Parker. Got a minute?”

Peter turned, relief flashing across his face like Logan had just handed him a lifeline. “Uh, yeah! Sure thing, Mr. Logan. I mean, Logan. I mean, uh—”

“Just get over here,” Logan said gruffly, jerking his head toward the corner.

You frowned as Peter shot you a quick, apologetic grin before hurrying off to join Logan. Something about the exchange felt... off. Logan had been acting strange ever since your conversation earlier, and now Peter seemed jittery too.

“Logan?” you called after them, but neither turned back.

Curiosity gnawed at you as you debated whether to follow. Ultimately, you decided to let it go—for now. Whatever they were discussing, it could wait.

---

“What’s goin’ on, kid?” Logan asked, his tone low as Peter reached him. He glanced over Peter’s shoulder to make sure you hadn’t followed.

Peter shifted uncomfortably, his usual confidence faltering under Logan’s intense gaze. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding... crazy, but—does something feel... wrong to you? Like, about all of this?”

Logan crossed his arms, his expression hardening. “You pickin’ up on that too?”

“Yeah,” Peter admitted. “I mean, I wasn’t gonna say anything because it’s, like, Wanda. And she’s scary enough when she’s not messing with reality, but now... I don’t know, man. It’s like I can feel the edges of it. Like it’s all just... holding together by duct tape or something.”

Logan nodded slowly. “You’re not wrong. This whole thing—it ain’t real. It’s Wanda’s doin’. She created all this.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “So, what do we do? I mean, if it’s not real, we can’t just—”

“We’re not doin’ anything yet,” Logan interrupted, his voice firm. “First, we gotta figure out how deep this goes. She’s got Y/N wrapped up in it, convinced it’s all sunshine and rainbows.”

Peter’s face fell. “Does Y/N know?”

Logan let out a frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair. “She knows what I told her, but Wanda’s got her so tied up in this illusion, she doesn’t wanna believe it. Thinks maybe this is better than the real thing.”

Peter hesitated, glancing back toward the direction you’d gone. “Do you think she’s right? About it being better, I mean.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his voice dropping to a near growl. “No. ‘Cause when this all comes crashin’ down, it’ll hurt her worse than losin’ it the first time. And I’m not lettin’ that happen.”

Peter nodded, his usual quips forgotten in the weight of the moment. “Alright. Just tell me what you need me to do.”

“For now? Keep this between us,” Logan said. “And keep an eye on her. If Wanda tries to mess with her head again, you let me know.”

“You got it,” Peter said, his tone more serious than Logan was used to hearing.

Logan clapped a hand on the kid’s shoulder. “Good. Now get outta here before she gets suspicious.”

Peter gave a quick salute and took off down the hallway, leaving Logan alone with his thoughts.

---

When Logan finally made his way back to your shared room, he found you sitting on the edge of the bed, your arms wrapped around your knees. You looked up as he entered, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Hey. What was that about with Peter?”

“Kid just had some questions,” Logan said, brushing off the topic as he closed the door behind him.

“Uh-huh,” you said, your tone skeptical. “And you couldn’t have answered them in front of me because...?”

Logan sighed, running a hand through his hair as he moved to sit beside you on the bed. “It wasn’t anything important, sweetheart. Just somethin’ about training.”

You studied him for a moment, your gaze searching his face. “You’ve been acting weird ever since we talked about Wanda earlier. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Logan hesitated, his instincts warring with his desire to protect you. Finally, he let out a heavy breath. “Darlin’, I told you everything I know. This ain’t real. But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop tryin’ to keep you safe.”

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “I’m not scared, Logan. Whatever this is, we’ll figure it out together. Okay?”

He looked at you, his heart aching with the weight of everything he couldn’t say. Instead, he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Yeah, okay,” he murmured.

But deep down, he knew the fight was far from over.

---

The illusion Wanda created was starting to fracture, but only those closest to her could see it. To everyone else, it was as if the world had always been this way—serene, idyllic, perfect. For Logan, it was anything but. He watched carefully, taking note of small inconsistencies no one else seemed to notice: the same bird flying in the same pattern every morning, children laughing at nothing, and the way the sun never seemed to fully set, as though Wanda didn’t have the energy to finish the day.

He wasn’t the only one noticing. Erik, though far subtler in his observations, had begun pulling Wanda aside more often, his sharp gaze never leaving her. Meanwhile, the Avengers who were scattered across this fabricated utopia seemed to be... different. Thor had grown quieter, almost distant, his booming laugh no longer ringing through the mansion. Natasha occasionally paused mid-conversation, her expression going blank for a moment before she’d snap back to herself. Steve? He smiled too much, too wide, like he was trying to convince himself this world was real.

But for you, things had only grown more complicated.

---

The evening light filtered through the mansion's wide windows, painting everything in golden hues. You sat on the couch, flipping through an old book. Logan entered, his steps heavy, his expression unreadable. You glanced up, offering him a soft smile.

“Hey, darlin’,” he said, his voice low as he settled beside you.

“Hey yourself,” you replied, setting the book down. “Rough day?”

“You could say that.” He hesitated, his gaze drifting toward the window. “You ever feel like somethin’ ain’t right? Like... this place, this whole damn thing, is holdin’ its breath?”

You frowned. “Logan, we’ve talked about this. I know you’re still adjusting—”

“Adjustin’?” he cut in, his tone sharper than he intended. “This ain’t about me. It’s about you. About what’s real and what ain’t.”

You stiffened slightly, your heart sinking. “Logan, we’ve been through this. I am real. I don’t know why you keep doubting that.”

“Because this world ain’t real, sweetheart,” he said, his frustration clear. “It’s Wanda’s doin’. And I think, deep down, you know that too.”

You shook your head, your voice rising slightly. “So what, you think I’m just... some figment of her imagination? That I’m not really here?”

“I think she brought you back,” he said softly, his eyes locking onto yours. “But not like you think. And now it’s all startin’ to fall apart.”

You wanted to argue, to insist that he was wrong, but his words planted a seed of doubt that you couldn’t shake. “If this world is falling apart,” you said carefully, “then why are we still here? Why is Wanda still holding it together?”

“Maybe she’s tryin’ to keep you,” he replied. “Maybe you’re the reason she did all this in the first place.”

The air between you grew heavy, and for the first time, you found yourself unable to meet his gaze.

---

Elsewhere in the mansion, the cracks in reality were becoming impossible to ignore.

In the kitchen, Storm froze mid-motion, a glass slipping from her hand and shattering on the floor. She blinked rapidly, confusion washing over her face. “Where... where am I?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Tony Stark stood in the hallway, staring at a photo on the wall. In it, he stood beside Steve, Thor, and Natasha, all of them smiling. But the faces in the photo shifted subtly, warping into something unrecognizable before snapping back to normal. “Friday,” he murmured, though his AI didn’t respond. “What the hell is going on?”

And then there was Charles. He sat in his study, his hands pressed to his temples as he tried to focus. “Wanda,” he whispered, his voice strained. “You need to stop this. It’s breaking.”

But Wanda, standing in her room, refused to listen. Her fingers trembled as she clutched a framed photo of you, her lips moving in a silent mantra. “It’s perfect. It has to stay perfect. They deserve this.”

The glow of her magic pulsed erratically around her, and for a moment, the world flickered. The colors dulled, the mansion creaked as if it were alive, and the faint sound of static buzzed in the air.

---

You found Wanda as she exited Billy and Tommy’s shared bedroom, her steps hesitant as she moved down the hall toward the library. Her fingers twitched at her sides, and her expression was distant, like she was lost in a storm of thoughts. You called out to her, your voice firm, cutting through the silence.

“Wanda.”

She froze mid-step, her shoulders tensing before she turned to face you. Her eyes darted to the floor for a moment, then back to you. “Y/N,” she said softly, her voice careful. “What are you doing up? It’s late.”

You crossed your arms, holding your ground. “I could ask you the same thing. What were you doing in the boys’ room?”

Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she stepped closer, her tone soothing. “I was just checking on them. Making sure they were okay.”

“Don’t,” you said sharply, taking a step back. “Don’t try to brush me off like that. We need to talk.”

“About what?” she asked, though you could see the flicker of apprehension in her eyes. “Is something wrong?”

You clenched your fists at your sides, willing yourself to stay calm. “Logan told me. About all of this. About what you’re doing. And I want the truth, Wanda—not some carefully constructed excuse. No wiping my mind, no distractions. Just tell me.”

Wanda’s lips parted as if to respond, but she faltered, her gaze dropping to the floor again. Her silence was answer enough. You took a shaky breath, pushing past the lump in your throat.

“It’s true, isn’t it? None of this is real.”

“It’s real,” she said quickly, her voice laced with desperation. “It’s real because I made it real. I did this for you, Y/N. For them.” Her hands gestured vaguely toward the hallway, where Billy and Tommy’s room was.

“And Vision,” you added quietly. The name hit her like a slap, and her expression crumpled for a brief moment before she steeled herself again.

“For all of us,” she whispered.

You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “No. You didn’t do this for all of us, Wanda. You did this for you. Because you couldn’t let go.”

Her breath hitched, and she took a step closer. “You don’t understand. You—you died, Y/N. Do you remember that? How helpless I felt when you—when I couldn’t—” She broke off, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions.

“I know I died,” you said, your voice steady despite the knot in your stomach. “Logan told me. But that doesn’t justify this.”

“You don’t understand,” she repeated, her tone defensive. “You don’t know what it was like to lose you. To lose them. It was too much, Y/N. I couldn’t—I couldn’t do it.”

Your heart twisted at the pain in her voice, but you refused to let it cloud your judgment. “So you decided to rewrite the world instead? To play god and pull us all into your grief? Wanda, you can’t keep doing this. You’re hurting everyone, including yourself.”

Her hands trembled as she reached for you, but you stepped back again. Her face crumpled, and for the first time, the cracks in her façade were fully visible.

“I didn’t mean for it to go this far,” she admitted, tears welling in her eyes. “I just wanted us to have a chance. To have peace.”

“Then show me,” you said, your voice softer now. “Show me what happened. How I died. I need to see it, Wanda.”

Her eyes widened, and she shook her head. “No. I can’t do that to you. It’s too much—it’ll hurt you.”

“I don’t care,” you said firmly. “I deserve to know. I need to know.”

Wanda hesitated, her hands clenching at her sides. “Y/N, please—”

“Please, Wanda,” you interrupted, your voice cracking. “If you care about me at all, you’ll show me.”

For a long moment, she said nothing. Then, with a shaky breath, she nodded. “Alright. But... I’m sorry.”

---

You and Logan were eating leftovers that Ororo had made earlier in the day—the two of you had been… preoccupied with something else during dinner time.

“We could go to that Chinese place you’ve been wantin’ to go to.” Logan said.

“After we go to the bookstore?” you asked sweetly, leaning back in your chair. “I want to see if they have that book I’ve been wanting.” You rolled your shoulders again, wincing slightly as a dull ache pulsed between your shoulder blades.

Logan, sitting across the table from you, gave you a look. “Still feelin’ that?” he asked, his tone sharp with concern.

You waved a hand dismissively. “It’s probably just from sitting weird or something. I’ll stretch later—it’ll be fine.”

“Darlin’, you’ve been complainin’ about that for days. And that stomach pain you had last night? Maybe you oughta talk to Jean, just to be safe.”

You sighed, a bit exasperated. “I will, Logan. Tomorrow morning, before we head out, okay?”

He didn’t look entirely convinced, but he gave a short nod. “Good. I ain’t takin’ chances with you.”

You smirked, rising from your chair with your plate in hand. “What, suddenly all cautious? Didn’t seem that way earlier when we were—”

Logan gave a low growl, his expression softening into an amused grin. “Keep talkin’, sweetheart. See where it gets ya.”

You laughed, placing the plate in the sink and rinsing it off. Over your shoulder, you teased, “Maybe I’ll save that for later. You know, give you something to look forward to.”

“You’re somethin’ else,” he muttered, shaking his head, though his lips twitched upward. You could feel his eyes on you as you moved to the fridge and grabbed two beers, popping the caps off on the counter.

“You want your usual toast to Ororo for dinner?” you joked, turning back to him with a beer in hand. “Something like ‘thanks for makin’ us look bad in the kitchen’?”

“Funny,” he deadpanned, reaching for the beer as you handed it to him. “You should quit physics and take up comedy.”

Before you could reply, a wave of dizziness washed over you, sudden and disorienting. Your vision blurred, and the edges of the room seemed to darken. The beer bottle slipped from your grasp, shattering on the floor as you staggered back.

“Y/N?” Logan’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and alarmed.

You tried to steady yourself, but your legs gave out, and you crumpled to the floor. Your chest tightened painfully, the ache between your shoulder blades now radiating outward like fire. You could barely hear Logan as the room tilted further into darkness.

“Jean!” Logan bellowed, his voice raw with panic. He was at your side in an instant, his hands trembling as he tried to rouse you. “Darlin’, stay with me. C’mon, open your eyes!”

Footsteps pounded down the hall, and then Jean and Scott burst into the kitchen. Jean dropped to her knees beside you, her fingers immediately moving to your neck to check for a pulse.

“Her heart’s stopped,” Jean said urgently, already positioning her hands on your chest. She began compressions without hesitation, her movements precise but desperate. “Scott, call 911. Now!”

Scott fumbled for his phone, his usually steady demeanor cracking as he dialed. “We need an ambulance at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. It’s an emergency—cardiac arrest.”

Logan hovered over you, his hands balled into fists as he fought the urge to intervene. “Jean, she—she just dropped. She said her back was hurtin’, her stomach—”

Jean cut him off, her tone firm. “Logan, give me space! Keep talking to her—she might still hear you.”

“Darlin’, you gotta fight this,” Logan rasped, his voice breaking. “You hear me? You ain’t quittin’ on me, not now. Not ever.”

The minutes stretched agonizingly, Jean alternating between compressions and breaths while Scott relayed information to the dispatcher. Finally, you gasped—a ragged, shallow breath that made Jean sit back in relief.

“She’s back,” Jean said, though her voice was tight with worry. “But we need to get her to the hospital. There’s something—”

Before she could finish, the sound of sirens cut through the air, and the paramedics arrived. They worked swiftly, loading you onto a stretcher and carrying you out, Logan never leaving your side until they pushed him back to allow the medics room to work.

At the hospital, hours passed in a tense blur. Jean, Scott, and Logan paced the waiting room, the latter practically wearing a groove into the floor. When a doctor finally emerged, Logan surged forward, his expression dark with worry.

“She’s stable, for now,” the doctor said carefully. “But she experienced a significant cardiac event. We’re running tests, but it appears to be hypertrophic cardiomyopathy—an undiagnosed condition.”

“And what the hell does that mean?” Logan demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

“It means her heart’s working overtime. There’s thickening in the walls, and it likely led to her arrest,” the doctor explained. “She’ll need monitoring and possibly surgery to prevent future complications.”

But you never made it that far. Two hours later, as Logan sat by your side, clutching your hand in his, the monitors began to wail. Your heart stopped again. The staff rushed in, pushing Logan aside as they tried to revive you.

This time, you didn’t come back.

---

Your eyes opened with a sharp gasp, the room spinning as you met Wanda’s tear-streaked face. Her red, glowing irises flickered and dimmed as her powers pulled back, leaving her looking more broken than you’d ever seen her. The weight of what you’d just witnessed crushed your chest—it felt too real, too vivid to be anything but the truth.

“I didn’t even get to say goodbye,” Wanda whispered, her voice trembling, the Sokovian accent she’d long suppressed slipping through as her emotions bled into every word. Her hands hovered near you, like she wanted to comfort you but didn’t know if she deserved to.

You blinked rapidly, trying to steady your breathing as the memory of your death burned in your mind. The ache between your shoulder blades and the tightness in your chest felt so fresh, so real, it was hard to remember you were sitting in front of Wanda, not in a hospital bed.

But there was no time to focus on yourself. You sat up straighter, your voice trembling but firm. “Wanda, this has to stop.”

She flinched like you’d slapped her. “No,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “You don’t mean that. You can’t mean that, Y/N.”

“I do,” you said, meeting her gaze, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. “I’m dead, Wanda. I died. And nothing you do can change that.”

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” she insisted, her voice rising, more desperate now. “I fixed it. I brought you back—I brought all of you back. Billy, Tommy, Vision—they’re here, Y/N. We can all be together, like it was supposed to be.”

“Wanda,” you said sharply, cutting her off. “This isn’t real. You didn’t fix anything. You’re just… avoiding it.”

“No!” she cried, her voice cracking. “I gave us a second chance. Isn’t that what you’d want? To see Logan again? To see the boys smiling and safe? Don’t you want this?”

Your heart twisted at the anguish in her words, but you couldn’t let it sway you. “Of course I want that. Of course I want to be with Logan, with all of you. But not like this. Not if it’s a lie.”

She stared at you, her chest rising and falling rapidly as her breathing grew uneven. “Why does it matter if it’s a lie?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “It feels real, doesn’t it? It’s real enough.”

“It matters because it’s hurting you, Wanda,” you said, your voice softening. “And it’s hurting everyone else, too. Logan knows, doesn’t he? And Erik? They’re just as trapped as you are.”

Her lips trembled, and she looked away, unable to meet your eyes. “They don’t understand,” she muttered. “They think they do, but they don’t. Erik has lost people before. Logan… he’s lost you more times than I can count. But it’s different when it’s your children, Y/N. You don’t know what that’s like.”

You hesitated, the weight of her grief pressing down on you. “No,” you admitted quietly. “I don’t. But I know what it’s like to love someone so much it hurts. And I know that love means letting go sometimes, even when it’s the hardest thing in the world.”

Her shoulders shook, and she hugged herself, as though trying to keep from falling apart. “I can’t let go,” she said, her voice so small it was almost swallowed by the silence. “I can’t lose you again. Or them. Or Vision. I can’t.”

“Wanda,” you said, your voice firm but kind. “You already lost us. I’m gone. Vision’s gone. Billy and Tommy… they were never real to begin with.” You reached out, touching her arm gently. “This isn’t peace. This is a prison you built for yourself.”

Her tears fell freely now, and she covered her face with her hands, her sobs shaking her whole body. You stood, closing the distance between you and pulling her into a hug. She stiffened at first, but then she crumpled against you, clutching your shirt like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered brokenly. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know,” you murmured, stroking her hair gently. “But it’s time to let go. It’s time to set things right.”

She pulled back just enough to look at you, her expression conflicted. “But if I let go… you’ll be gone.”

You smiled sadly, brushing a tear from her cheek. “I’ll always be with you, Wanda. But you have to let me go. You have to let all of us go.”

Her lip quivered, and she nodded slowly, though it looked like it physically hurt her. “I don’t know if I can do it,” she admitted.

“You can,” you said firmly. “You’re stronger than you think.”

Wanda closed her eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath. When she opened them, they glowed red again, her powers swirling to life around her. The walls of the room seemed to shift and crack, and the sound of children laughing echoed faintly before fading away.

“I love you, Y/N,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the tears in her eyes.

“I love you too,” you replied, squeezing her hand one last time before the world dissolved into light.

---

Logan walked to the library, his heavy boots echoing in the quiet hallways of the mansion. His hands were shoved deep in his jacket pockets, fists clenched tight. He could feel the tension in the air—a crackling weight that made his skin itch. It wasn’t just Wanda’s doing; it was him, too. He couldn’t sit back anymore. Not when he knew what was at stake.

Halfway there, Erik stepped into the hallway, his broad frame blocking Logan’s path. His expression was unreadable, but there was something sharp in his gaze.

“Outta the way, Erik,” Logan growled, his voice low and steady.

“You can’t confront her now,” Erik said, his tone just as calm, but there was a warning there. “It’s too fragile. If you push her too hard, this entire illusion could collapse violently. Do you want to hurt her more than she’s already hurting?”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his teeth grinding as he stepped closer. “This illusion is hurtin’ her. Hurtin’ all of us. She’s gotta let it go. You know that as well as I do.”

Erik didn’t move. “And if she can’t? If you force her hand and she snaps? This isn’t just about you or me or even her. Think about the others—Billy, Tommy, Vision. They’re as real to her as the air she breathes.”

Logan’s eyes darkened, a flicker of pain crossing his face. “Don’t think I don’t know that. But I lost her once. Hell, I’ve lost her more times than I can count. I ain’t gonna lose her to some damn fantasy.”

Erik’s eyes narrowed, his voice dropping. “She created this because she lost too. She’s clinging to what little she has left. Are you really ready to take it all away?”

Before Logan could respond, the walls around them began to tremble. The faint sound of children laughing echoed through the hallway, followed by a low hum of static. Logan’s sharp eyes flicked around, taking in the cracks spreading along the edges of the illusion.

“Looks like it ain’t up to me anymore,” Logan muttered, his voice grim. He pushed past Erik, who didn’t stop him this time.

As Logan stormed toward the library, the tremors grew stronger. The pristine walls of the mansion shimmered, flickering between their familiar design and something darker, rawer. By the time Logan reached the library doors, he could hear crying and hushed reassurances.

He opened the door to find you and Wanda kneeling on the ground, the former holding onto you tightly as her hands glowed red.

You looked over at Logan as the world around you shimmered red and mouthed “I love you” right before everything went white.

As the shining light faded away, the mansion reappeared around them, quiet and still. Wanda knelt on the floor, her arms outstretched toward the air where you had been moments before. Her hands fell limply through the space, trembling as she stared at the emptiness in front of her. The tears on her cheeks glistened faintly in the flickering light.

Logan stepped into the room, his heavy boots echoing against the hardwood floor. His jaw was clenched tight, his eyes dark with fury and heartbreak as he took in the sight of Wanda. She was a shadow of herself—broken, sobbing, and clutching at nothing.

“Wanda,” Logan growled, his voice low and menacing.

She flinched at the sound, her red-glowing eyes darting up to meet his. Her lips trembled, and she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Logan didn’t hesitate. He closed the distance between them in three long strides, his hands grabbing Wanda by the arms and yanking her to her feet. He slammed her back against the nearest bookshelf, the impact shaking loose a few books that thudded to the ground. His claws extended with a sharp snikt, the shining adamantium glinting dangerously as he pressed them to her throat.

“Why?” he snarled, his voice rough and ragged. “Why’d you bring her back, just to tear her away from me again?”

Wanda gasped, her hands coming up instinctively to grip his wrists. “Logan,” she choked out, her voice strained. “I—”

“No,” he snapped, cutting her off. His claws twitched, close enough to graze her skin. “You don’t get to explain it away. You don’t get to justify this. You knew what you were doin’, and you did it anyway.” His voice cracked, the raw pain bleeding through. “You brought her back, Wanda. I saw her. I held her. And now she’s gone again.”

Tears streamed down Wanda’s face as she shook her head frantically. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she whispered. “I just—I couldn’t—”

“Couldn’t what?” Logan barked, his voice rising. “Let go? Face the truth? You think you’re the only one who’s lost her? I’ve been losin’ her for centuries, Wanda. Over and over again. And every goddamn time, it breaks me. But this—” He gestured around the room with his free hand, his claws still hovering at her neck. “This was worse than any of it. This was cruel.”

Wanda sobbed openly now, her body trembling against the bookshelf. “I just wanted to fix it,” she said, her voice cracking. “I wanted us all to have a second chance—Billy, Tommy, Vision… you. I thought if I could bring her back, you’d be happy again. I thought it would make everything right.”

Logan let out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp and cutting. “Happy? You think this made me happy? Watchin’ her slip away again? Watchin’ her know what was happenin’ and still tryin’ to make you feel better?” His claws retracted suddenly with a metallic hiss, and he stepped back, releasing her roughly.

Wanda sagged against the bookshelf, her hands clutching at her chest as though trying to hold herself together. “I didn’t mean for it to happen like this,” she whispered. “I didn’t know it would fall apart.”

“You didn’t think,” Logan spat. “You didn’t care. You were so wrapped up in your own grief, you didn’t stop to think about what it’d do to the rest of us. Erik told me not to push you. Said you’d snap if I did. But guess what, Wanda? You already snapped. And you dragged us all down with you.”

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with desperation. “I just wanted her back,” she said, her voice barely audible. “I wanted all of you back.”

Logan’s face softened slightly, the anger giving way to the raw ache beneath. He sighed, dragging a hand down his face as he tried to steady himself. “I get it,” he said quietly. “More than you know. But what you did—it ain’t right, Wanda. It ain’t real. And it ain’t fair to her or any of us.”

Wanda nodded slowly, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. “I’ll fix it,” she said shakily. “I’ll make it right.”

“You better,” Logan said, his voice low and dangerous. He turned on his heel, heading for the door. But before he left, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder. “One more thing,” he added. “Don’t ever use her like that again. Not for your pain. Not for anything.”

And then he was gone, the echo of his footsteps fading into the silence.

Wanda sank to the floor, wrapping her arms around herself as she sobbed. She had thought she was giving everyone a gift, but now she saw it for what it was—a prison of her own making, one that had only brought more pain.

In the distance, Logan stalked down the hallway, his mind swirling with the memory of your voice, your touch, your final words. I love you.

He clenched his fists, his claws threatening to break through again as he let out a low growl. Wanda might fix the mess she’d made, but nothing would erase the weight of losing you again. Not this time. Not ever.

first, i just wanna say thank you to dr. mike for teaching me that when someone goes into cardiac arrest you should immediately start chest compressions, chest compressions, chest compressions! (iykyk)

also, i know this is not an accurate representation of the 'house of m' storyline, but it's somewhat close? right? anyways, i think the next one of these is gonna be the logan movie, so buckle up!

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #james howlett x reader #james howlett x you #logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett fic #i love you in every time #i love you in every life

146 notes · View notes

tinygamertris · 3 days ago

Text

I think Alisaie is infinitely more right about the knowledge of Ascians and why it's not more wide-spread in this comic. When you're dealing with a Calamity, and the aftermath, there's no time to be spent worrying about invisible assholes who might just be the desperate result of people wanting someone or something to blame. There's survival, and rebuilding, and making new communities to make the survival and rebuilding easier, and everything else just falls by the wayside.

That. Final. Panel. Is perfectly goddamn horrifying. It's almost too good at showing the feeling of shock and horror when something like that happens. The feeling of the world turning to glass and cracking. Of everything freezing. Colour draining away as your brain tries to handle what it's seeing and failing.

I've always been a fan of unspoken horror, of knowing something terrible is happening just off the page, just off the screen, and the never seeing it, and that last panel is that feeling personified.

✧✦✧ "Fragments" - episode 57 ✧✦✧

Teamwork.

New reader? episode list on tumblr | webtoon Read 4 more episodes: patreon | kofi

#Fragments

451 notes · View notes

lesbianherald · 2 days ago

Note

Hi! Just curious. What exactly is that you didn't like about Viktor's arc? I've seen a few people saying the same thing and idk if I'm missing something or I'm just too over the moon about him that my brain has gone smooth haha.

oh no oh no i'm probably going to write like a whole dissertation about this I am so sorry I'm literally cracking my knuckles I have so many thoughts and not all of them I'll even get to articulate here.

Saying this upfront: you aren't smooth-brained for disagreeing with me or liking it. I want to say that outright as I'm a very opinionated person and I am going to state my very strong opinions very plainly.

That being said : I genuinely feel like season 2 needed like... character writing 101 for a lot of these characters, especially the two characters whose names start with a 'V'. I'm so serious if one of my students brought in a story like this, I would (gently) take it apart.

If you don't want to read the whole thing I'm about to unleash, the crux of it is this for me:

Throughout the course of the season, it's very hard to discern how many of Viktor's decisions are his own. He lacks the baseline autonomy that's necessary for satisfying development. The magic of the hexcore becomes a shiny distraction that makes meaningful development impossible. Additionally, season 2 forgets so many of the themes and threads they explored with Viktor in season one explicitly in terms of class and his position on war and weapons manufacturing.

And, like almost everything in season 2, these issues are compounded because his story is done at a pace that's completely lightning-fast and prioritizes the wrong things.

Here's my thesis:

How Does a Man Like Viktor Become the Machine Herald? Arcane's Answer: Magic orb or vague sadness or something idk.

Harry Lloyd said in a season 1 commentary somewhere that one of the main appeals for Viktor is knowing who he is in the game and wondering how you take a man like him, who is so kind and has people's best interests at heart, and see him slowly become the machine herald.

I agree 100% that this is part of the story's appeal for players. And it would be a delight and surprise for non-players.

We... get that very juicy premise ripped from us. We don't see him making decisions grounded in the character they set up in season 1 at all, really. And its very unsatisfying seeing him be rendered a mere victim of circumstance with vague attachments to his past self.

This is not necessarily a complaint about arcane herald vs machine herald (I did not play league and am not attached to the lore) but a complaint that a lot of what happens with Viktor in season 2 seems very unattached to his psychology.

Christian Linke himself said (and I forget where, so I am sorry if I'm paraphrasing terribly) that part of the question he wanted the audience to ask with Viktor is how much of this is really him? Bluntly. That is incredibly silly. It's such an important question that it makes all other interesting questions one might have about him really hard to parse.

That's not compelling. That's a mistake. That's not rooted in character anymore but a vague magical orb.

Here are some questions that would have been more interesting for us to ask, Christian.

How does his desire to tamper out human emotion prompt him to do the unspeakable? What leads him there?

How far is he willing to go to take away human pain and suffering?

Is his version of pacifism really, in actuality, a form of violence?

Will his connection with others be enough to bring him back to his humanity? (this is a question we were not prompted to ask, and if we were, it would have made the final scene (which I love regardless) a lot more satisfying.

What is the root of his hunger for power? How much of his quest is a hunger for power and control over others (rooted in a fractured and tragic sense of self)? and how much is it rooted in his desire to help? Where is that line?

Any of these questions or any other questions we could enjoy exploring with Viktor become tampered with and weakened by the fact that a vague magical entity is controlling him in a vague and unrelatable way.

In short, 'How much of Viktor is still Viktor?' is a far less interesting question than. 'how is Viktor going to act, change, and learn? ' We are forced to ask the first at the cost of the second. He clearly is not fully himself this season.

The Dropping of Themes and Traits

Season 1's exploration of Viktor was multi-layered and fascinating. I feel like we got to see the establishment of a kind-hearted, sometimes awkward yet quite funny, passionate scientist.

I don't feel we see much of any of this in season 2. The stupid fucking orb overrides a lot of the traits we've come to know and love. This would have been cool if done with an ounce of care, understanding, or autonomy.

In season 1, we see Viktor in a position of powerlessness over and over. We see Viktor ignored and looked down upon by those in power both for his disability and, crucially, for his status as a Zaunite.

We're introduced to him as someone who is desperate to prove himself and carve a place for himself. He knows he's brilliant. And he knows he can help people with that big brain of his. That's all he wants. And he wants to make his mark (something I theorize is rooted in his loneliness as well as his ambition)

(Side note: I find a lot of the debate on whether or not Viktor is insecure a little silly because you can be both confident and insecure. He's incredibly secure in his abilities as a scientist, but I fully do believe he places all his worth on his work because he's not as confident in other places - represented visually by him trying to point out his boat when Sky is looking at him in the flashback. A 'don't look at me look at what I've made' type thing.)

Anyways. Viktor is willing to risk his position as an assistant and, honestly, his position at the academy and in Piltover as a whole to help Jayce. This is not just because he's 'lol so chaotic' or whatever. This is actually quite calculated. He knows he will get nowhere in Piltovian society without bending rules, because Piltover was not built for people like him.

"Do you think it was my life's ambition to be an assistant?"

But even in taking that huge step for himself, his new role is complicated.

We see him sit through meetings where his people are talked about like burdens. We see his closest (and honestly only) ally and partner speak over him in meetings and overrule his desires and wants when it comes to the future of hextech in massive ways. We see Jayce call all Zaunites 'dangerous' (I love jayce... don't shoot me please. But we do often forget that this does canonically happen and what makes Jayce so incredible is that he grows from this point)

The moment on the bridge directly causes him not to tell Jayce about what he's doing to himself. Jayce apologizing right after doesn't matter so much as it reinforces one of Viktor's fears: he is alone.

We see his illness, !!!!caused by Piltover's oppression!!!!, take over. We see him and Jayce grow apart. We see the way his loneliness impacts his desperation and the way his desperation impacts his loneliness and we see the way he's so damn afraid and just wants to live. We see how much he wants to help people, and how even though he's tried so hard he never got to achieve that because the limits of this society just don't allow for it.

Season 1 Act one is Viktor taking action for himself. season 1 Acts 2 and 3 are a brutal reminder that no matter how hard he works. No matter how hard he claws. He will always be who he is. And that makes him Powerless in this society. I honestly find it a really compelling storyline in terms of the 'bootstrap theory' and debunking that - but a different topic for a different time!

At the end of the season, he's able to gain a huge amount of power - speaking at the council about freeing his city - through Jayce's platforming and allyship. But at the end of the day it doesn't matter, because what the council is doing is too little too late - people in Zaun are too tired and too hurt - and he gets caught in the crossfire.

Despite all this, Season 2 does not engage with Viktor's being a Zaunite outside of the fact that he returns to Zaun first. But the themes explored related to class and power are gone - as they are with everyone else really.

It makes sense to me that one of the first things Viktor would do when granted a new body and new power would be to go and try to help people in Zaun, but the ambiguous mechanisms of the magic inside him, the immediate divorce with Jayce, and the bizarre way he goes about it don't make this land.

And even the return is rendered sort of meaningless. Where is the personal connection to this place? Why are we given no details related to his past here? Why doesn't he return to somewhere more personal for him?

He speaks in this cold, unaffected monotone. This healing ability seems to be the 'recursive impulse' - so him finally getting to help people just like he wanted feels rooted so much in the arcane influence it becomes murky and strange.

This is more nitpicky, and I'd be okay with it being ignored in the right context - but another aspect of his character that gets dropped is his work as a scientist. His desire to help people not through magic, but through invention. This would have been fascinating. (They try to keep this alive through vague allusions to 'look at what I've created' blah blah but again, so much of it is all ORB)

What inventions would a fully autonomous Viktor who decided to leave Jayce and return to Zaun of his own fruition create? Would they toe the line between inventions of progress and inventions of destruction?

Guess we'll never know!

Speaking of weapons. Let's talk about weapons. Let's talk about Viktor's vehement opposition to weapons not being explored within the context of his relationship with Jayce or outside of the rule that there are none allowed in the commune - which becomes quite meaningless when he agrees to work with Ambessa. Yes - he saw those blueprints on the table. But that's all we get.

Also, the fact that Jayce just unquestionably builds hextech weapons in the finale, and they're used as a good thing and a way to fight off Noxus, makes me want to claw my own hair out. Like - my themes ! Not my precious themes !

Let's also talk about him working with Ambessa. There's no build-up to that decision, not near enough character work to make that believable and considering the way the plot is written elsewhere, I fully believe this is a huge part of the problem of the writer's room dropping the issue of class. The idea that Viktor, the character that they set up, would ever willingly work with Ambessa is laughable. There are so many other ways he could have gotten to the hexcore in his fully evolved form, easily bested Jayce, and evolved. And they did absolutely nothing in the writing of season 2 to make that an interesting or satisfying choice.

An arc is only an arc if there is substance between point a and b. There's no substance here. There's vague orb. There are little glimpses of the pain he's in because of his separation from Jayce. Teeny tiny allusions to him trying to shut down his emotions. That's simply not enough.

You cannot bring a character who values choice and autonomy, whose been made to feel so powerless and is empathetic, to "choice is meaningless" without a deep study of his psychology and pain. Viktor taking away the autonomy of others, inhabiting their bodies. Being super chill with it. Okay. Coo.

Where does his desire for evolution even come from? For real? Because they seem to mistake Viktor's ambition with his desire for perfection, which is something that was never really... brought up? It could be believable that he felt this way. But where were the signs of this? Not just in season 1 but in season 2. He always wanted to help, not make humanity perfect. Because this is grounded in so little emotional logic I assume we're supposed to be satisfied with the idea that magic orb + machine herald form = ??? this ??? like ??? why???

If he wants to create a world where nobody can feel pain or complex emotions of any sort anymore, which is not psychologically where he was at the end of season 1 at all despite all he went through, you have to give us an event (ideally multiple) in season 2 that could break his mind this badly. Jayce killing him could have been this, but it happened so fast and was executed so impersonally that it doesn't work. He doesn't really acknowledge it happened the next time they see each other. Which... would probably be important to do... again emotional logic where?

His entire speech about humanity at the end of episode 6 feels like it's trying to be a catalyst. But it also feels... incredibly generic and impersonal. It felt written to play over a flashy montage of all the other characters fighting. Not for Viktor. If this was Viktor's moment where he finally snaps, we should probably focus on Viktor. And, of course, it doesn't help that he has this odd monotone this whole time, as if he's not fully in control of himself (this is not a rip on Harry Lloyd at all. He did what he was told and did it very, very well.)

Because remember. They wanted us to ask this. They wanted us to ask how much of this was orb. I think because they knew on some level they could not create a compelling enough story to get viktor where they wanted him to be for some reason without orb. That none of this would make sense without the vague spice of the arcane. And guess what it still doesn't.

Becuase people will not relate to a vague arcane influence. Connect to it. We would want to see what actually in his life made him become this. What in his psychology outside of magic orb made him do this? They provide vague tastes of this in the same way La Croix flavors its drinks.

Brought Back Wrong Can Work: Here's Why This One Didn't

I also really hate the trope of killing off characters only to bring them back. And back again. And... again. Because guess what. It takes one of the core elements of the human experience - death- and cheapens it. This for sure happens with Viktor the second time he dies.

But what i do like about bringing someone back from the dead is when you consider how doing so can bring someone back wrong. Or changed.

But because the orb is so impersonal. So bland. Such a vague sinister force that has very little to do with character, it doesn't... work. It doesn't hit. Viktor doesn't really grapple with being brought back from the dead against his will in a meaningful way.

Timing

You can see concepts of a plan, if you will, within this story. I can see how Viktor would naturally go to the undercity after waking up changed with new healing powers. But it happens way to fast. So bizarrely. I can see how he would build a society like this (of course, the power of that is dulled because orb and by the fact that we don't see it happen). I can see how the pain of being rejected and left behind by the only person who made him feel like he wasn't alone (Jayce) could have lead to a category 5 'make me evil' sort of meltdown.

Becoming the Herald, asking Singed to begin the transformation, is the only true time in this show in act 2 (before his final moments) where it feels like he's making a choice for himself. But again, we get so little time with him. To see his emotions. To elegantly point from that moment with Jayce to Viktor's need to transform and in doing so rid himself of emotion (something that they did not expand on enough ) Like oh my god, how much more satisfying would it have been to see Viktor torn apart by his own emotions - in his own viktor way - and to have singed offer him a way out of his pain - and then have viktor take it. There are certain things that should be obvious.

But It's both the timing of and the structure of the story - how quickly we cut between plotlines - that makes this really hard to follow. That makes moments that could be something feel rushed and sloppy.

Let's Talk about Sky

Viktor's guilt over sky was absolutely reasonable to explore, but it was not.... all that haunted him. To make Sky the sole guide/companion to him in the astral/arcane headspace I found to be a bizarre and honestly kind of offensive choice.

Amanda overton said she was used as a "Jayce substitute" essentially. And... why? Literally why. Why would you write a character whose sole deal is having an unrequited crush on a man only to bring her back to be 'the embodiment of his guilt and loneliness' as well as a 'substitute' - it feels... icky to me? Just in a writing women and especially women of color point of view? And it didn't feel true to Viktor's character either.

I think if we actually got to know sky better in season 1, this would have worked because it would have been obvious how different she was, how she was a product of his mind or the hexcore or whatever (the lore being vague here doesn't help...)

Plot Twist because I keep hating on Orb: They Could Have Made The Orb Really Cool

Here's the thing. Magic influence on its own can be used to write extremely compelling plots. Walk with me.

Imagine Viktor wakes up. Immediately knows something's wrong with him. That something inside him is toying with him. Making him see things (visions of not only sky, but maybe his parents, Jayce, Heimer). He wakes up earlier in act 1. Despite his anger, he stays with jayce in order to better understand himself and his powers. All the while, he is haunted by whispers and visions of the hexcore. What if it whispers to him of his own insecurities and failures?

What if Things with Jayce are tense. Jayce has to admit to making weapons again, in an argument leading to more haunting visions from the hexcore offering him an out: emotional numbness. You would never have to feel again Viktor. If you let me in fully, you would never have to be alone again. You'd be more powerful, Viktor.

Imagine Viktor is there during that attack ambessa orchestrated. That he has the horror of witnessing Jayce wield his hammer in a genuine attempt to defend himself and the people he loves. He sees first hand how hextech is being used for destruction in a way that horrifies him.

Imagine him being accused of being a part of it because he's a Zaunite - humiliated in some way. Publicly. Imagine the emotional trauma of this resulting in a falling out so devastating he embraces his visions of the hexcore - gives into the numbness. And only then leaves. With the hexcore... he feels better than he has in years. He hopes he can give the gift of this to others. Now he is under orb influence, but now the way he's gotten there is more satisfying to me at least.

Now imagine him fighting the orb influence in key moments. Imagine the color in his eyes coming back. Imagine Viktor's relationship with the arcane being more of a dance than a vague entanglement. Imagine its influence haunting him in the same way Jinx's visions haunt her. Imagine it being personal rooted in his character.

Old Man Viktor

Listen. I am the old man Viktor connoisseur. I love him. I love the idea of him. I wrote a whole fic about him, during which I had to spend a lot of time with the story. It's sort of... very much impossible to make much sense of?

I'm not mad at the fact that it's an obvious retcon. Honestly, because I think from a storytelling perspective, it worked a lot better than most of the decisions they made this season.

But I'm not a fan of (shocking) how little time we spend with him. How little chance we get to understand his motivatons. And also. What the fuck he said to Jayce to make Jayce's first line of action killing him? In my fic, I made it that Jayce needed to shoot Viktor to get the hexcore out, so he could communicate to viktor without influence. But that felt like heavy lifting I shouldn't necessarily have to do for something so important. It also doesn't feel like a compelling or satisfying question to make your audience have to wrestle with.

The Final Scene

Want to say upfront I am not one of the people who did not like Jayce's speech.

I was quite moved by it. And aside from the perhaps out of place mention of the illness brought on by Piltover which I can understand the criticism for, I felt it was beautiful. (I am disabled btw)

That being said. I think i'd be a sobbing mess on the floor if the themes Jayce is presenting in his speech were more present throughout season 2. Because we really don't see this enough - the desire for perfection.

I'm also not one of those people who thinks Viktor's insecurities weren't present in season 1. To me, they were and were obvious, but not enough in his motivations and actions in season 2 to make Jayce's speech land like it could.

I really loved Jayce's arc in season 2. Him immediately embracing Viktor after he woke from the goo was surprising but felt right. But I wish they had more genuine conflict rooted in their conflict in season 1 that would allow their final moment to land even harder.

I really liked the final scene, and it made me an emotional mess. But weirdly, I'd almost like it as a short film removed from the context of the season two, which says just how little Viktor's arc this season contributed to the moment.

Final Thoughts

I'm so sorry I went so in-depth. I just love him as a character and feel he was very much not done justice.

We can attribute some of this to the lack of time. But when you know you have a lack of time, you need to write with that in mind instead of trying to do it all. And ultimately, I found a lot of scenes this season a waste of precious time. They had so many characters alone contemplating something intangible or alone and trapped for episodes. They didn't plan this with the care and precision needed to pull it off.

I also want to note that I know I say here a lot that there's a lot they needed to make "more obvious". This is not because I'm stupid. But when you're a writer, you need to know what to highlight and what you can leave vague so you leave your audience exploring the right nuances and asking the satisfying questions.

Anyways umm. The end. Holy shit, I'm so sorry I wrote so much.

#i literally typed this in a caffine induced frenzy #oh my god its so long kldfjashdlkfjsd #im sure there are things i missed or did not explain well #ask bee #how many times can i hate on orb #SDKLFJD #its not even an orb #i know this #if someone reads this whole thing they deserve a cookie or something #see this is why tumblr might be a problem for me actually #no character limit DKJFHSDLKF #if you keep reading this could very much be like a do you like the color of the sky situation #where you have to just keep scrolling and scrolling #god i need work to start back up again KLDFJSHDFLK #side note one of my twitter moots got a strawpage anon that was like #you hate his arc you must hate viktor #which is so funny because #i literally love him so much #that's why i hate his arc KLDFJHSD #one thing i do like about viktors storyline and i still dont think it fully works #is how many of his principles he clung to even under magical influence #at least at the start #bee talks arcane

112 notes · View notes

wundrousarts · 2 days ago

Text

Something I’ve noticed for awhile is that I often get comments from people about how they are surprised how I always come up with theories and try to guess what might happen and they “could never do that” themselves. I want to say: yes you can! There’s honestly a shortage of Nevermoor theories and ideas and speculation and etc and I want to see MORE!!!

Want to talk about how Morrigan’s mom is actually secretly alive? How the Scholar Mistresses are a Wundrous Act? Do you think the Tempus Divinity looks like an owl, or do you think Weaving and Ruination would be met together? Or have you ever thought about how this one line, from Chapter 19 of Nevermoor, about Betram Crow actually means he was a Cursed Child? Whatever it is you want to talk about: GO FOR IT!!!

I personally find it very fun to go sort of “English class mode” and look at the text in front of me and think about what different things might mean and analyze it and even overthink it to an unnecessary (but fun!) amount. But that’s just me and how I like to approach things! You don’t need to make long posts and quote specific lines if that isn’t your style. The big thing to remember is that so much can happen in the next six books, so throw any idea out there! You never know what twists and turns will be thrown at us. I think it’s fun to share these ideas and discuss with other people— sure, maybe there’s just something you missed when reading, but perhaps some new ideas spawn might from it. Some speculation could even serve as inspiration for fics!

There are some theories and thoughts that I’ve posted that have been “debunked” when I reread a book, or when someone pointed out something, or even just when something had a real-world basis that I as an American didn’t catch. But it was still fun to think about it all, and there’s some bits and pieces that I see as notable and worth considering. I think most of the Silverborn Masterpost is going to be “wrong”, but if just 1% of it is “correct”, even indirectly, I will take that as a win. I know it feels like during the hiatus everyone’s talked about everything, but I hope that the incoming communal reread (fingers crossed) and obviously Silverborn brings some speculation back to the fandom because I want to discusssssss!

#nevermoor #pleaseeeeeee I like discussions and bouncing off of other people and other ideas #I just wrote some of the top theories I could think of that I've seen around #I have a post in my drafts about the Bertram one lol #I have many half written theories in reblogs added onto other people’s posts that I decided to save ‘until Silverborn or beyond’#and then it got delayed….. and delayed……….#writing this post is also reminding me how I was going to look at chapter 9 in each of the books and then possibly multiples (18 27 etc)#also asks. either I answer asks right away or it will take months or years (like a time-specific art request that I promise I’ll get to lol)#and maybe even chapters that just end in 9 but idk that’s something to tackle in the future lol #there’s also that idea I had ages ago about a ‘9 masterpost’ which was every single instance of 9 and whether it ranged from #‘this is just Jess’s favorite number’ to ‘wait actually this connects to that and that connects to this and maybe it means—‘#anyways tl;dr: please share more theories and ideas and stuff I want to discuss I love discussions I love thinking about things in new ways #also don’t even worry about being coherent!! all my posts are rambles lmao <3 just throwing my thoughts out into the world #I love rambling it’s only fit that a post about my rambling theories is also a big ramble #I am guilty of usually throwing stuff around on discord and only posting on here when I can organize it into a coherent post or list so.#must get better at that.#again: see the fact that I have many a theory that I just never end up writing bc I feel like I need more info or smthn 😭#it doesn’t help that I still haven’t gotten to my eternal hollowpox reread (RIP my old notes) and at this point I’m saving it for the reread #I am unfortunately in love with canon so if I can’t tie something back to text at allllll it’s like. this theory is getting postponed!#but it’s also fun to think about ‘crack theories’ in relation to the text (see: bertram crow as a cursed child)#anyways. ramble 2.0 over. I ❤️ talking in tumblr tags. I’m always on my phone. sorry for saying ‘text’ about a middle grade book so much. 🙆

37 notes · View notes

georgeweasleyslostearhq · 1 day ago

Text

KISSING YOU IN MY MIND

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem! Summary: after your date with Eddie, it gets a little awkward between you. Warnings: mention of drugs

Here is the actual part 2!

Series masterlist here!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

you kicked a rock as you walked on the side of the road.

your backpack heavier than when you left home with it. it's probably just because you're tied from walking, though

you've been walking for what seems like forever when you hear a car drive slowly behind you.

you kicked the rock again and it tumbled off your path. not bothered to get it back, your turned around when you saw the corner stop beside you.

the window sketchily rolls down and your met with a certain smile that you haven't seen in a while.

"where ya going?" he asked, looking around

"where do you think?" you rolled your eyes.

"well i was gonna offer you a ride but after that comment" he shrugged, pressing on the gas and driving off slowly

you waited a second before catching up to him, making him smirk with his eyes still on the road

without looking over he leaned to the passenger door and opened it.

you got in and shut the door, sighing as you put your bag by your feet.

he started driving, turning down his music.

"so. how come you're walkin' to school?" he asked, looking over at you

"well I'm not walking now, am i?" you question, taking your waterbottle out and drinking a much-needed sip.

you swallowed the cold water and hummed

"I missed the bus" you answered, relaxing in the seat

You lean back against the seat, the cool air from the cracked window swirling in a lazy circle around you. The quiet hum of the engine fills the space, but neither of you seems to know what to say. You can feel the tension in the air thick and unspoken, and it’s like the weight of everything that’s not being said is pressing in on you both.

"so.. haven't seen you all week..ya'avoiding me again?" he asked in a half joking way- that much you could tell by the playful smile of his face, one that didn't quite reach his eyes.

and maybe you had been avoiding him, maybe you had been taking a different route, bearly going to your locker. but you just hadn't realised it until now

"no..no. i've just been...busy" you breathed lightly, playing with your fingers that sat in your lap

"busy" he repeated lowly. not fully believing you.

the old rundown van is the exact same as it was a week prior. the same rubbish littering the dirty floor. you didn't expect anything different. but it gave you a sort of comfort. now that you were familiar with his space. it gave you the sense that you knew him- really knew him.

The road stretches out before you, the occasional car passing by, the sound of tires on asphalt blending into the low volume of the radio that’s still playing in the background. He glances over at you, just a quick peek, like he’s making sure you’re still there. But it’s more than that—his eyes linger for a fraction of a second longer than usual, before he shifts his gaze back to the road.

You stare straight ahead, pretending you didn’t notice, but your pulse quickens anyway. There’s something about the way he doesn’t look at you anymore, but you feel like he’s aware of every little thing you’re doing, like your presence is too loud, too obvious, too close.

"Think we'll make it to class on time?" The question slips out before you can stop it, and as soon as you say it, you wish you could take it back. It sounds too light, too casual, like you’re trying to cover up the space between you that’s suddenly too big to ignore.

He looks over at you again, that same quick glance, but this time he doesn’t hide the small smile that tugs at the corner of his lips. It's a fleeting thing, barely there, but it makes your heart skip a beat. You want to smile back, but it feels wrong, like you’d be playing a part in something neither of you is ready to admit.

"we'll make it," he says, and the calmness in his voice catches you off guard. Like he knows the answer before you even asked it, like he knows you’ll be fine, even though everything feels a little off right now.

You nod, but the motion feels robotic, too forced, like you're just going through the motions without really thinking about it. There’s something about the way his hands move on the wheel, tapping in time with the rhythm of the song playing, that makes you wonder if he’s just as lost in his thoughts as you are. Or maybe he’s trying to ignore the fact that this, whatever this is, is just as awkward as it feels.

The silence falls back over you both. It’s not comfortable, but it’s not unbearable either. It’s just... there, like a quiet third presence in the car. You try to focus on the road, the trees passing by, anything that will distract you from the nagging feeling that you’re both avoiding something you can’t quite put your finger on.

When you get closer to the school, the moment shifts again. The buildings are visible now, looming ahead like a reminder that all this—this weird, half-formed connection between you two—has to end soon. The thought of it feels too sudden, too soon, and you catch yourself wishing the ride would last just a little longer.

He slows the car, turning into the parking lot, and parks a little too far from the entrance. You both sit there for a second, neither of you moving. It’s like you’re both waiting for the other to do something. You can’t tell if you’re waiting for him to say something or if you’re just stalling because you don’t know how to break the strange quiet that’s settled between you.

"Thanks for the ride," you finally manage, your voice sounding a little too stiff, like you’re trying to make it sound casual even though the words feel foreign on your tongue.

You glance at him, but his face is already turned forward, hands still resting on the wheel.

"No problem," he says, his tone almost too easy, like he’s slipping back into that comfortable version of himself that doesn’t have to acknowledge whatever this is between you two.

He opens the door, stepping out quickly, and you follow suit, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder.

You both stand there for a second, a few feet apart, but neither of you makes the move to walk toward the school. The silence is loud now, unbearable even, and you feel the tension between you, thick and tight in the air. Your eyes wander for a moment, trying to find something to focus on, but your gaze inevitably falls back to him.

He’s standing there, shoulders slightly hunched, like he’s unsure of what to do next. It’s almost like you’re both waiting for the other to break, to do something that might make this feel less strange, less heavy.

He glances at you, a quick look, before he shifts his weight and starts walking toward the building. You follow, the distance between you growing, but it feels like it’s not enough. Like there’s something unspoken that’s just hanging there, waiting for either of you to pick it up.

You reach the school entrance, and for a moment, you both stop, standing just outside the door. You’re not sure why, but you look over at him one last time, and there it is- the same look, the same hesitation in his eyes, like he’s caught between two things he doesn’t know how to handle. And then, just as quickly, he turns and steps inside, leaving you standing there for just a moment longer.

You walk in after him, but the weight of the unspoken words lingers in the air, and you can’t shake the feeling that something’s changed. Something’s shifted between the two of you, and you’re not sure what it is yet, but you’re certain it’s something that’s not going away anytime soon.

And the question you’re left with as you step into the crowded halls is simple: What would it feel like if you weren’t walking away from each other at all?

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Eddie couldn't get you out of his mind, ever since he dropped you off at your house after your 'date' and he realised he wanted to kiss you, you're all he can think about.

it's strange, he doesn't know what to think of it. he's never thought of any girl like that, the last time he thought about kissing a girl was when he was 14 watching Brooke Shields in the blue lagoon. but that ship sailed long ago.

but this was different, you were real, right in front of him, being nice.

he's felt weird all week. not knowing what to do. he's felt like you've made it obvious, laying it out on the table. you had so many options of teddies to choose from but you choose the one he has a tattoo of, that you've complimented?

but he was overthinking it, right? you had just thought it was the best choice? he would have chosen it before

he thought maybe things could be different now, that it would be better but after not seeing you for a week, and him so desperately wanting to, he thought maybe you didn't want the same

which makes sense. you told him all the date was, was pity, you felt bad for him.

that was it.

that's all it was, and all it will be.

but he doesn't like you, it was just the moment, he was tired, and you totally weren't looking at his lips when you left his van that night.

it didn't happen.

he needs to get a hold of himself

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

"are you going to the party on saturday?" you voice echoed in his ears when you leaned against your locker, looking right at him as he rummaged through it, slyly making sure he had enough for the deal he's about to make in 10 or so minutes

he turned to you, a slight frown on covering his features.

he looked around to see a few people in the hallway and he opened his mouth to say something before stopping himself when he looked back at you

you didn't even try to make yourself look busy in your locker like you usually did. you weren't being quiet when talking to him like you usually did.

your eyebrows raised expectently before you spoke up again

"sorry.. didn't mean to catch you at a bad time, s'just wondering if it's a real party or a lame one"

were you asking him to go?

his puzzle look made you laugh softly

"are you coming to sell at the party?" you said again, making it more simple because clearly his brain wasn't processing, and to be honest, his eyes looked a little blown out and darker than usual, was he high?

he nodded quickly "uh i uh- i don't know yet, probably, need the money"

"good, i need something to make me relax, are you alright?" you asked, noticing his excessive blinking

"Yeah," he said plainly.

the word stretched too thin to feel convincing. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, and you couldn’t tell if he was just distracted or trying to get you to drop it. Either way, the air between you felt heavier now, like something invisible was hanging in the space where words should’ve been.

You shifted your weight, leaning back against the cold metal of your locker, and studied him for a moment. His hands were still in his locker, rummaging through whatever he was keeping stashed in there, but they didn’t seem to be moving with any real purpose. It was more like he was just keeping them busy. Avoiding something.

"You sure?" you asked again, softer this time. There wasn’t any teasing in your voice now, just a quiet curiosity that you couldn’t quite keep out.

He froze for a second, his shoulders stiffening almost imperceptibly before he pulled his hands out of the locker and shut it with a sharp click.

His head tilted, and he gave you another one of those smiles that didn’t feel real- more like a placeholder than anything else.

"Yeah, I’m good," he said, like he was trying to convince himself just as much as you.

You nodded, but the furrow in your brow stayed. You weren’t sure why it bothered you so much, why he seemed so off, or why you felt the need to press the matter, but it did.

He didn’t meet your eyes this time, and something about that stung more than you cared to admit.

"Okay," you said, drawing the word out slowly, like you weren’t sure if you believed him or not.

"Just... don’t overdo it, alright?"

he frowned "Overdo what?" he asked, his tone light, almost playful, but there was an edge to it. Like he was trying to steer the conversation away from whatever it was that had you asking in the first place.

"the drugs" you wanted to say, but you didn't.

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Whatever it is that’s got you all..." You waved a hand vaguely in his direction, searching for the right word but not finding one. "...weird."

weird? what a new word he's never been called. but how is he supposed to act 'normal' when all he can focus on is the curve of your lips when you're talking to him, wishing he could feel them, wishing they were on his in what is a beautiful kiss.

but, alas,

he has to be weird.

trust me, i won't overdo wanting to kiss you Eddie thought to himself

His lips twitched, and for a moment, you thought he might actually laugh, but then the look in his eyes shifted again- softened, almost, and he let out a small sigh instead.

"I am weird," he said, quieter this time, like he was trying to reassure you without drawing too much attention to it.

You wanted to believe him. You really did. But something about the way he was looking at you now, like he was holding back a dozen things he didn’t know how to say, made it hard to let it go.

Still, you nodded, pushing yourself off your locker. "Alright,"

You stepped back to give him a little more space and looked down at the polished floor again

"I'll see you at the party then...or not...bye" You trailed off, suddenly feeling self-conscious about how much you were saying.

His eyes flicked to yours, just for a second, and then he nodded. "Yeah," he said simply.

You lingered for a moment longer, waiting for something, anything, but when he didn’t say anything else, you turned and started walking down the hallway. The sound of your footsteps echoed faintly behind you, and you wondered if he was watching you leave.

You didn’t look back to find out. But as you turned the corner, you caught yourself wishing you had.

and still wondering why, in that weird little head of yours, you still pictured kissing those plush pink lips of his.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

this on'es a bit shortwe because i had no ideas on what to do, but i have the next few PERFECTLY PLANNED OUT

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

also thank you for all the support on the first two, hope you like this one!

Taglist:

@exploding-bonbon @xlostitx @pupwrites @carolineesnell @foreveranexpatsposts @itsmadamehydra @thedoubleexposurephotography @g3n3zshack @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @emxxblog @nubedeoctubreval @bimboshaggy @sheneedsrocknroll92

sorry it didn't let me tag a couple of you!

but reply if you want to be on the taglist!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

#x fem!reader #imagines #fluff #eddie munson #joseph quinn #stranger things #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x fem #ami's new series!#eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #stranger things fic

82 notes · View notes

autistic-shaiapouf · 6 hours ago

Text

Thanks for the tag!! 💖

Last song: Crack Metal by Health, I had their entire Rat Wars album on shuffle in my car and it was the last song that played as I got home, coincidentally probably my favorite song off the album lmao

Fav color: pinks, blues, and purples‼️

Last book: currently reading one called An Age Without Samples (Originality and Creativity in the Digital World) by Ikutaro Kakehashi bc I saw it for less than a dollar at a library book sale and grabbed it on a whim, last book I actually finished was The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde after I found it on the side of the road (I think it was with stuff someone left out on the curb) and I'd highly recommend it! I enjoyed it a lot

Last movie: not a huge movie person but probably Perfect Blue bc it's easily one of my favorite movies of all time

Last tv show: Arcane! Watching it with some friends :)

Sweet/savory/spicy: probably savory overall, starting to toss sweet things into savory mixes to see what they do, put peaches in with my sweet and sour pork and I think I should do things like that more actually

Last thing I searched online: how to lower blood sugar bc I'm trying to nip some medical stuff in the bud before anything has a chance to become a real problem 👀

Current obsession(s): I've been thinking about how I don't know what kind of person I would be if I hadn't gotten into ultrakill, I am so Normal about the robots in dante's inferno hell game and you can tell from my two (2) gimmick blogs where I draw robots every week, I. love them

Looking forward to: paying off my credit cards this year! Also picking up my bass and messing around with it more, drawing more and sweeping when artfight starts up again, really I wanna be more involved with art as a whole and so far I've been committing to that and it feels pretty good 💖

No tags to offer on this one but I thank you kindly 🙌💕

10 People I'd Like to Know Better

Thanks for the tags @gaiaseyes451 and @beerok23!💜!💜

last song: Gloria by the Lumineers

favourite colour: Red, like a deep luscious red that you know would taste good if you licked it. Don't act innocent, you know exactly what I mean by that. Red is a color that you just know tastes good.

last book: I am currently trying to read the Witcher series (per @lickthecowhappy's suggestion) so I am at the start of the Last Wish

last movie: Moana 2 (I have young kidsssss)

last TV show: My oldest is almost 10 which means she stays up late. Which also means I have so little time to watch adult things. So we've been watching the Office with her. I think I want to watch the Good Place with her next tho (I've never watched it!)

sweet/spicy/savoury: Sweet followed very, very closely by spicy. Habanero maple syrup is one of my favorite things on the planet.

last thing i searched online: How to explain a 10 year career hiatus in a cover letter (looking to return to work since having kids. It's been an interesting experience so far).

current obsession: Have not moved on from Good Omens, but recently realized that my obsession may be more in my own little connected universe of fics that I wrote rather than the actual canon at this point😳. I'm sure once we get that first glimpse of red and white hair that will change very quickly.

looking forward to: Going back to work and having a more established adult life again, honestly. I've been so lucky to be home with my kids while they are young, but I am ready. And figuring out how my newfound passion for writing is going to fit into that new life of mine. Another big year of change over here for me, and I am eagerly looking forward to how the growing pains are going to make way for something beautiful beyond.

ten people i’d like to know better:

@addledmongoose, @di-42, @afrenchwriter, @haemey, @eybefioro, @alwaystuesday, @katspause, @alphacentaurinebula, @shadesofecclescakes, @ochre-sunflower and whoever wants to do it (but also feel free to ignore!)

#thanks again for the tag! i wanna try to do these as i see them so they dont just. sit in my likes forever lsjfkgk #been feeling kind of down lately so having to think about things to look forward to was a nice little exercise actually #i think i needed that #thank you!#tagged for me

278 notes · View notes

iid-smile · 1 day ago

Text

★★ RUSSIAN ROULETTE ⋆

CHAPTER 01 — MiSFiT

series m.list — next >>

content — itoshi rin x gn!reader, spiderman au, crack (its not funny 🙁), bickering, basically just a lil intro of spiderman and the readers friendship, heights, lil mentions of motion sickness, a tiny tiny bit suggestive if you squint but nothing too obvious, protective rin, also mean rin

wc — 1.2k (+0.4k)

a/n — since im planning on having rin being both in and out of his suit, im just gonna call him spiderman when he's actually spiderman to the reader (youll get what i mean l8r) also can we take about how the masterlist actually suits rins colours and this doesn't? there was no way i was going to sit there and edit each and every one of my headers so it would look more like rin's suit. nuh uh... yes anyways me thinks i'll introduce the real rin and the reader in the next chapter

it was both a blessing and a curse to say that you've met spiderman more times than anyone else in japan. that's minus the fake ones at mall meet and greets by the way. time and time again, he comes to rescue you, whether that be in a real life or death situation, or minor inconveniences when you're out and about.

he's like a little guardian angel, but add in an insult every other minute.

once again, he's saved your life, effortlessly swooping in at the perfect moment and pulling you out of a sticky situation that could have ended (not) very badly. you weren't in any dire danger at all, but it's too late to say that when you're already hundreds of feet into the air that you really could've handled it yourself.

as he gripped onto you by the waist, a rush of adrenaline surged through your veins, sending your heart racing with a mix of fear and excitement. the wind whipped around you, and the world blurred in a dizzying, blinding dance of colours and light as he spun you effortlessly.

thank god this wasn’t your first time being swung around like this, otherwise you would've been guaranteed to get motion sickness. okay, maybe you are, but still, you couldn’t help but marvel at how he seemed unfazed by all of the comotion. your squeals of terror echoed in his ears as you clung to him, feeling as if you're going to teeter out of his grasp.

sure, you could have easily sidestepped the trouble if you were watching where you were going, but there's nothing better than a pair of strong arms protecting you from any and all sorts of harm. and what better way was there to draw him in than to create a moment where he feels like the hero?

well, he is a hero, just... not a very... good one.

as you finally approach an open clearing where you're unlikely to smash into a skyscraper, you build up the courage to properly open your eyes, taking in the busy streets and traffic below you. this doesn't feel real at all.

"you're unlike anyone i've ever met, spidey!" you yell loud enough for him to hear you as he cuts through gusts of wind. your hands manage to land on his shoulders, lifting yourself up more for a better view. as scary as it was, you knew he wouldn't drop you.

spiderman's heart starts to pick up from the simple, random declaration, already beating ten times faster than it was before. put it on a scale; it's about as fast as... um... it's really fast. was this the moment he's been waiting for?

"what do you mean?" he tries to keep his voice as even as possible, not letting the anticipation get to him as he awaits your answer. the side of your face was now pressed against his, allowing the both of you to speak normally.

"you're weird as hell!"

oh.

his expression immediately drops back to his usual scowl behind the mask. was that supposed to be a compliment, or..? that was the only word that came to mind in your tiny word bank, apparently. his eyes narrow as he avoids yet another shortcut back to your apartment, opting to take the "safer" way.

not very safe when he purposely makes a hard left, leaving your body threatening to slip out of his hold with your fingers digging into his suit. this guy is a piece of shit. "i don't think you can say that when this is the third day in a row that i've had to save you." he grumbled.

your grin turns sour, pursing your lips and squinting your eyes as you look off to the side in mock offence. if he's gonna play this game, then there's no way in hell you're backing down. "i don't think you can say that when you literally saved me from a piece of gum."

"you were stuck to the road."

"it was blocked off and under construction."

"and you know how quickly construction workers work. what if you got buried under concrete?"

"i wouldn't!"

"of course not." he flatly replies, though his arm tightens around your waist. "you're hard to miss." (he meant that in a good way, but it came out wrong. cons of having a grumpy voice)

wow. isn't he so sweet? "fuck you!" you hiss, kicking your legs to throw him off balance, but it only makes you feel worse. you want to lift your hand, hit him or just do something, but it's like it's glued onto him. "do you want me to start screaming?"

"please don't."

"i will—"

"no." the last thing he wanted was to go deaf from your voice in his ears. was it too late to add in a noise cancelling feature to his mask?

still, he makes another risky decision to swing underneath a bridge, staying attached as the two of you do an entire loop around the structure before shooting into the air.

obviously, your first instinct was to scream.

with your arms securely clasped around his neck, you clung on as if your very life depended on it (which it did), your voice rising in panic as you shouted out into the air. your eyes squeeze shut, head banging from what felt like a headache as you rambled whatever sentences came to mind. "just say that you like hearing me scream then!"

"...what?" his mind goes blank for a split second but he shakes himself out of it, switching the conversation. "hang on tight, we're nearly there."

your legs wrap around him. "can you not see that i'm—"

"just shut up, will you?" he whispers, a "mysterious" heat starting to spread hotter and hotter over his cheeks.

spiderman finally returns you to your bedroom balcony, landing on the railing with light feet before carefully easing you off of him. he keeps a hand on your shoulder, making sure you stay upright and don't tumble over. yes, you were dizzy. yes, you definitely needed to lay down. but you cannot deny that was so fun!

you let out a lazy giggle, pretty much falling into his arms once more from your legs giving out. "thanks for the joyride, spidey..."

he scoffs, pushing you off him and ushering you through your bedroom door. "i got you home safe. that's all that matters." he sounded almost bashful, but your silly self didn't notice.

amid the silence between the two of you, a piercing alarm blares in the distance, its urgent sound slicing through the a a quiet like a knife. the mechanical wail rises and falls, echoing off the buildings and rolling through the streets, creating a sense of urgency that captures the attention of innocent pedestrians.

spiderman glanced over his shoulder, assessing the situation. spidey senses — or something like that. another bank robbery.

you smile playfully at him, your body leaned against the glass door. "i think actually saving the city is more important right now."

though you couldn't tell too well, he wasn't looking directly at you. "...right." reluctant to leave, he stalled for a few seconds, not knowing if he should say goodbye or... no. no. he doesn't need to. it's already hard enough to talk when he's around you.

and just like that, japan's hero was off.

bonus! block blast newbie

after a long day, nighttime started to settle in, though the amount of people outside barely decreased. spiderman was crouched over the edge of a tall building, considering this his "rest time."

"i don't get why they're obsessed with this..." rin pulled off his mask, squinting at his phone illuminating his face as he tried to make sense of the empty blue grid before him.

it was merely a cheap, money-grabbing knock off of tetris — designed for those who seemed to specialise in incompetence and lacking the ability of putting on shoes and going outside for once in their lives. honestly, he doesn't get the hype, and in his experience, only genuine idiots seem to play this game. that doesn't include you, of course!

frustration bubbled beneath the surface as he wondered how something so straightforward could be so interesting that it risks your (and others') safety. actually, even worse, how bad good could it be that it dragged you right into the fate of stepping on a piece of gum?

this might be dangerous...

"oh?" he was expecting the tiles to fall, but instead they stayed exactly where they are, stuck in their position in some sort of awkward shape. coincidentally, the next shapes were a perfect fit, and it was easy enough to fit them into the right space, clearing the board.

'excellent!' his eyebrows furrow at the random male voice coming from the game, weirded out from the sudden praise just from getting a combo. "...i don't appreciate that." he mumbles to himself, quickly turning his volume down until it was on mute.

this was the game that you're obsessed with?

"huh?"

so then, a few minutes passed...

"just how was i supposed to fix that?"

and then an hour... maybe two...

"what—!?" his exclamation was drowned out by the distant but approaching sound of of police sirens, interrupting his little gaming session. he was this close— this close to throwing his phone over the edge.

with a childish huff, he raises a hand to rake his fingers through his hair, pushing back the strands before yanking his mask back on. duties come first, but his battle with this shitty tetris lookalike was not over.

rin never got pass his high score of three thousand eight hundred and nine that day. and he broke his duolingo streak. he was pissed for the rest of the night.

fun fact! — rin is currently learning spanish on duolingo. why? um... he cannot say.

taglist (open!)

@aise-30 @faylvrs @17020 @sara4uuu @adoresia @defnotciara @levihanmyotp @withlovesai @thenightsflower

#★★ RUSSIAN ROULETTE ⋆#chat if u see any mistakes.. no u donf #m so tired #blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #itoshi rin #itoshi rin x reader #rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi #itoshi x reader #bllk x you #blue lock x you #blue lock rin #bllk rin #bllk imagines #blue lock imagines

113 notes · View notes

cuubism · 16 hours ago

Note

thinking about baby wish and how once she gets sick both hob and dream will 100% get TERRIFIED and very antsy due to their past with their own child :')

funny enough i already had a drabble kind of like this so i've gone and finished it up for you :)

Anyone who wants to rob Johanna should probably do a more subtle job of it than leaving the damn door to her flat cracked open for her to find. They’d tripped her wards, too—amateurs—making her scramble home in the middle of a job to catch them in the act.

She pushes the door open carefully, knife held in one hand. The light’s on in her kitchen, which gives her pause. Surely any burglar—especially one stealing magical artifacts—would get what they need and get out?

She really should have been less surprised to burst into the kitchen and find Hob leaning against the counter.

“Finally,” he says.

Johanna irritably puts the knife away. “Why are you in my house?”

“You weren’t answering my calls.”

“I was working. I can’t just drop everything to watch your strange baby.” She’s gotten roped into that a few times. Not a lot of reputable childcare around for supernatural infants, apparently. Not that Johanna counts as ‘reputable childcare’.

At least Dream pays well for it. And Jo’s grown fond of the little critter, to her chagrin.

Hob sighs, scrubbing his hands over his face, and finally Johanna takes a proper look at him.

He looks exhausted. Hair a mess, like he’s been running his hands through it, stubble coming in unevenly on his cheeks, clothes all wrinkled. When he drops his hands from his face again, he gives her a pleading look.

“What’s going on?” she asks.

“Wish is sick,” Hob says. “I don’t— I don’t know what it is. She doesn’t normally get flus and things like that. She’s just… fading. She won’t wake up.”

Well, shit. “What does Dream have to say about it?”

“He’s been pushing power to her from the Dreaming to keep her stable while we try to figure it out,” Hob says, starting to pace across the kitchen, tugging on his hair, “but now he’s gone under too and I—”

“Hang on,” Jo exclaims, “you’ve been letting Dream drain the Dreaming?”

“You think I get to let Dream do anything?” Hob says, exasperated. “He does want he wants. In any case, we needed to buy time, but I think we’re out of it again. Will you help me or not? Because if not I need to find someone else who will.”

“I’ll help you,” Jo says, groaning internally. “If I can.”

If Dream is actually ill too then she has, unfortunately, at least some degree of responsibility to not let this become a repeat of the sleeping sickness. Besides which… she’s fond of Wish.

Hob looks so relieved that she feels bad for her reluctance. He’s practically vibrating as he helps her gather her things and then leads her, at speed, back across town to his home.

Once upstairs, they step quietly into the bedroom. Wish is asleep in her crib, cat plushie clutched in one hand. She’s gotten bigger since Jo last saw her, almost a proper toddler now. And she looks… alright? At least from afar. She’s sleeping very deeply though.

Dream, meanwhile, is slumped in bed like a dead man, one arm trailing down limply to the floor. His skin is even more pale than usual, forehead beaded with sweat. She shakes his shoulder and he doesn’t move. When Jo focuses, honing in with the Sight, she can make out a thin trail of power going from Dream’s hand to Wish’s.

Jo focuses on Wish. Takes her hand. She’s been working on her Sight, and she can sense now that whatever power Dream is funneling into Wish is just going straight through her and out into whatever is draining her. It may be keeping her stable but it’s primarily just getting burned up into nothingness.

Alright so they’ve got to stop that before Dream fucking kills himself because this is a bottomless pit. If they don’t interrupt it he’ll evaporate the Dreaming from the inside out.

“What he’s doing isn’t working,” she tells Hob. “Something’s draining any power he sends her.”

“Can you tell what?”

She can’t sense anything obvious. No malevolent presence. No connection to Wish’s power, other than Dream’s.

“I don’t know,” she says. “But Dream isn’t helping. I’m going to try to break the connection.”

Hob looks concerned, glancing between Wish and Dream, but doesn’t stop her.

Johanna gets out her chalk, and starts drawing an elaborate warding circle around Wish’s crib. It’s a bit of a tossup, honestly, on whether she’ll be able to combat Dream’s magic. He is, after all, Endless. But if she focuses on containing Wish, rather than fighting against Dream, she might just be able to do it.

Hob sits on the bed beside Dream, looking on anxiously, but giving her space. Johanna seals the final stroke of the warding circle, and—

—nothing obvious happens. But the connection between Dream and Wish, visible only with the Sight, slows to a trickle. She wasn’t able to break it completely, Dream’s power is too strong for that, but at least it’s not the flood that it was before.

“They didn’t wake up,” Hob says, clutching at Dream’s hand. “Shouldn’t Dream have woken up at least?”

“He’s probably weakened himself,” Jo says. “He won’t drain himself into nothing now, though.”

Hob looks down at Dream limp beside him. “Now that he’s connected with her power Dream might have been able to tell us how to fix it,” he says, hands twisting together anxiously. “Fuck I wish he would wake up.”

Dream jolts awake in bed, gasping for breath, eyes wild. Hob jumps in alarm, but quickly clutches at him, holding him steady. “Dream.”

Jo looks between Dream and Wish. “Shit.”

“What?” says Hob, jumping up as if to rush over to Wish, but hesitating between her and Dream.

“Her power…” Dream says, his voice still its low rumble, despite his evident exhaustion. “I felt it spike, before I woke.”

“She wished you awake,” Johanna says. “Or, technically Hob did. And Wish’s power made it happen. That’s got to be what’s draining her— all over the world people are wishing things all the time, and she’s granting them.”

“Isn’t that kind of her function?” Hob says.

“No,” says Dream. “Just as I shepherd dreams but do not make all of them manifest in the Waking world, Wish’s power carries wishes, but does not grant them. A few, she can make real—but to grant all wishes would destabilize reality.”

“She’s just a baby, how’s she supposed to know that?”

“Exactly,” says Jo. “It needs to be limited until she can learn how to limit it herself. If you’d like, I can—”

Dream’s eyes flash threateningly. “You dare to hinder my daughter’s power?”

“She clearly can’t control it!” Jo exclaims. “If you don’t put a limit on it, she’ll burn through it again.”

Dream looks murderous, but Hob lays a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I think Johanna’s right. It’s not like we’d let her run around the city without us either, is it? Kids have to have limits.”

That softens Dream’s expression into something that’s almost a smirk. “Like your leash.”

“Are you seriously one of those people that has a child leash?” Jo says to Hob, incredulous.

“My baby can fly!” he says indignantly. “Not all of us can just grow wings to chase after her.” He pokes Dream.

For a moment Johanna gets distracted by the image of Hob flying Wish like a balloon, but comes back to her senses. “Look,” she says to Dream, “I can put a ward around her if you want—”

“I will do it.” He stands, only slightly unsteady on his feet, and walks over to Wish’s crib. Hob follows him, keeping a hand braced low on his back to support him. Dream picks Wish up, cradling her in his arms. Smoothes a hand over her forehead and hair.

She really doesn’t look much worse for wear, other than still being asleep. Dream’s the one who looks like he got run over by a train. Nevertheless he sprinkles dream sand over her, letting it whirl around her in a big spiral.

“I do not have unilateral control over her function,” he says, “but I will tie her powers to mine again, so—”

“Didn’t we just learn that was a bad idea?” Jo says.

Dream casts her an irritated glance for the interruption. “So,” he continues, “I can use the Dreaming to corral her power and keep it contained around her. As I did before she was born. I will mind her, and be sure the use of her power is moderate.”

The dream sand fades away, and Dream runs his hand over Wish’s hair again. “Wake up, my love,” he says to her, much softer than the tone he’d used with Johanna. “You are alright now.”

She shifts in his arms, nose scrunching up, letting out a quiet whine as she finally opens her eyes. “Mama.”

Johanna still hasn’t figured out why Dream is “mama.” She has her suspicions but she definitely doesn’t want to think about Dream giving birth. Nope, not at all, definitely not.

Dream smiles down at Wish. “How are you feeling?”

Wish reaches up to touch his face, grabbing at his cheek. “Lotsa wishes, Mama.”

“Yes, very many wishes indeed,” says Dream. “Now, you must go to Dada, because your Mother is about to collapse.”

Hob swoops in to grab Wish just as Dream’s legs go out from under him. Johanna is left to catch Dream, and grabs him by the arm, hauling him back over to the bed. Dream collapses back onto the pillows, panting. God, he looks absolutely exhausted.

Hob props Wish on his hip and comes over to him, touching the back of his hand to Dream’s forehead even though Jo is pretty sure you can’t gauge an Endless’s wellbeing that way.

“It is fine, Hob,” Dream says, though it doesn’t look particularly fine. Nevertheless, they’ve solved the problem, so it probably will be fine, sooner or later, or so she hopes.

Wish reaches for Dream. “Stories, Mama?”

“Perhaps tomorrow night, my love,” Dream says, eyes already falling shut.

“Mama needs to take a nap,” says Hob, draping a blanket over Dream with his free hand. “We’ll go read the next chapter of our book, hm?”

“Book!” Wish agrees.

Hob leans down to kiss Dream’s forehead. Wish reaches out with grabby hands, so Hob holds her out to kiss Dream’s forehead, too. “Kiss!” she says.

It’s kind of sickeningly adorable.

Johanna follows Hob out into the living room, feeling a bit whiplashed by all of it. Hob sets Wish down on the couch, then scrubs his hands over his face, taking a shuddering breath. For a moment, it seems like he might crumple, but he steels himself.

Johanna isn’t really good at this kind of thing, but she rests a hand on his arm. “She’s alright, Hob,” she says, attempting a comforting tone.

“Oh, I know, she’s probably forgotten it already.” He gives her a wan smile. “Not sure Wish was the one much bothered by all this in the first place.”

Jo feels a pang of sympathy. If anything, Hob got the worst of it, witnessing it all without being able to do much of anything to help.

“Let me know if you need anything, yeah?” she says.

He nods. Meanwhile Wish reaches out her hands to Johanna, crawling towards the edge of the couch. “Auntie Jo!”

Johanna sets her back before she can fall, then shakes her hand solemnly. “Pleasure doing business with you, as always. Let’s hope you haven’t wished anyone the nuclear codes.”

“Nu-clee-ur,” Wish echoes, with surprisingly good pronunciation.

Hob pales. “Let’s not introduce the concept of bombs to my child who likes to play with the electrical sockets, please.”

Johanna just laughs. “Your problem for later, mate.”

She turns to leave, then hesitates. Goddammit, she is becoming so fucking soft.

She gives Hob a hug.

He freezes in surprise. Then wraps his arms around her in turn. “Thanks,” he whispers.

Johanna pats his back, then pulls away before it gets any more awkward. She waves to Wish on the couch. “Be good, Sparkle!”

Wish waves goodbye, and with that Johanna heads out to leave them to it—though she’s sure, with the rate things are going, it won’t be for long.

#wish #dreamling #my writing #ask #anonymous

71 notes · View notes

alextydaisuda123 · 3 days ago

Text

And here are the phobias again. Part 4, right? Yes. In general, I came across 3 phobias at once and they even somehow fit on one page. I came across Pepperman phobias from the authors: @firfirov (Evil Tower and Divine Tower) and @neocrash1101 (Days with P and FP). I was interested in reading and learning about how they got their phobias. PM from DWPAFP was simply created according to Neo's headcanon, telling about his addiction in the past (I rarely come across such stories, but I was pleasantly surprised by such a headcanon, considering how many different headcanons I've seen regarding PM). About Pepperman from the Evil Tower, there was a mini comic (I love him with all my heart), telling about his phobia of sleep. I can understand him, since I had a similar fear in my teenage years after one tragic incident. Now I'm not afraid to sleep and thanks for that. The only one whose phobia is not entirely clear is PM from Divine Tower, but I have a theory and I want to voice it. Maybe he's afraid of them, not so much because of their appearance, which he might not like, but because of stereotypes about mirrors. About evil spirits, curses, or about the fact that if you look into it for a long time, you will feel like the strength will be sucked out of your soul through the mirror. Perhaps I exaggerated, but everything is quite possible, after all, there is a myth about a broken mirror, symbolizing 7 years of failure (that's why I drew the mirror cracked). Expect more phobias in the future. And yes, thanks to all those guys who recommended phobias, or drew them and told something about them. You can't imagine how much I liked reading and watching such things. And considering that phobias are different and unusual, the interest only grew from this.

#pizza tower #pizza tower au #divine tower #Evil tower #days with p and fp #pepperman #pepperman pizza tower #PM phobias

62 notes · View notes

bloodmoon-bites · 2 days ago

Text

Starscream X Cybertronian!Reader

18+ Minimal use of Y/N (he may be a bit OOC but i’ve never written for him before nor do i know too much about his idw version but i know him enough that i absolutely love him lol)

Word count: 10k+ (I DID NOT MEAN TO DO THIS MUCH)

———————————-

Starscream's angry words echoed through the chamber as he glared at you, his optics flashing with a mix of frustration and vulnerability. "You think you understand me, (Y/N)? You, a mere observer, dare to analyze my desire for redemption? It's not as simple as you make it out to be!" She met his intense gaze, feeling the weight of his emotions in the air. His anger seemed to transform into a raw, exposed honesty

(Y/N) stood there, her body turned towards the wall to his right but her face towards him as she stood straight with an unreadable expression on her face, his words sharp and angry, his voice loud and pained. Her jet wings were pointed in an almost defensive stance as she looked over at him, her vents becoming deep and short.

She finally spoke up, “Not that simple? a mere observer?” She turned to fully face him, “I have been by your side throughout the entire primus forsaken war Starscream! I have been here through everything! Who patched your wounds? Who stayed up countless nights watching over you?” she said with her voice growing louder. “I put my life on the line for you! I have stuck by you through every failure! Every spark breaking moment! I have never left your side! Never once have i questioned you!” She pointed a digit in his direction. “I understand you more than you understand yourself! I have given you everything and asked nothing in return! I chose you over everyone else! Even when everyone told me i was insane for sticking with you i stayed!” she was yelling at this point with tears rolling down her face.

“You do not get to stand here and talk to me as if i’ve not stayed by your side for the last four million years!” she screamed with tears falling off of her faceplate, “I chose you above everything else! When no one else stayed I stayed! I never left you! I have just as big a hole to dig myself out of!” She said as she took a step closer. “Primus i have a larger one! I was nothing before the decepticons! Unless you forgot the absolute hell i grew up in! I understand you more than you will ever know! Why do you think i fragging stayed?!” she said as she finished, her invents becoming shaky and deep

Starscream's optics widened as he listened to (Y/N)'s passionate outburst. The room seemed to shrink around them, the weight of her words and the intensity of her emotions hanging thickly in the air. The anger and pain etched into her voice echoed in the air like a raw wound being laid bare. A heavy silence fell over them like a suffocating veil, his own emotions churned within him. His optics held a mix of awe, shame, and vulnerability. He took a few steps towards her, stopping just short of standing in front of her."(Y/N)," he spoke quietly, his voice cracking slightly.

"I...I never understood the depths of your loyalty... your dedication," he continued, his eyes flickering as he searched for the right words. "I've been so focused on my own ambitions, my own redemption, that I've failed to see the sacrifices you've made, the weight you've carried." He looked down at the ground, guilt written all over his faceplate. "You should have left me long ago... Yet you stayed, and for that, I-" he said, his voice cutting short as the lump in his throat became overwhelming.

His wings lowered in a gesture of both humility and surrender, and he let out a shaky exhale before meeting her gaze once more. "I don't deserve you, (Y/N). I never have. Everything I've done, all the pain I've caused... But now that you've given me a glimpse of your own wounds..." He stepped directly in front of her, looking deeply into her optics, his own optics flickering with a mix of admiration and vulnerability.

"Maybe we're both just broken bots trying to find redemption," he said, a hint of a humorless smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "But maybe, with each other, we can help each other heal." With that, he reached out a trembling hand towards her, hesitating for a moment before gently touching her cheek as if she was made of fragile crystal.

Her optics fell closed the moment his servo landed against her cheek and she leaned into his touch. The gesture so soft and reassuring but also so out of character for the normally arrogant and narcissistic mech she knew. She knew he had his moments where he’d let down his walls… but it didn’t make them any less important to her.

She opened her optics before moving to lean her head back up before placing her servos on either side of his face, “As much as you get on my nerves, as much as you can be insufferable and an asshole… i’ll keep choosing you… i’ll always chose you… And i don’t regret a thing…” She said as she looked into his optics her own searching the sea of red in his. “I know how much you’re hurting… i’ve seen the abuse you’ve been through… I know what that can do… but star i’m right here… i’m just as bad off as you are, but i’m still here, just as i’ve always been…” she whispered softly as she let out a soft sigh.

Starscream's spark seemed to swell with a complicated mix of emotions as he absorbed the weight of her words. The cold, hard steel of his usual facade began to crack and chip away as he gazed into the depths of her optics, seeing not just the bot who had stood by his side for so long, but a mirror to his own pain and trauma. He couldn't deny it anymore, not when she was standing in front of him, bearing her own wounds and yet still choosing to stay. He let out a shaky breath. "(Y/N)…" he said in a voice barely above a whisper.

"You... have no self-preservation. You're an idiot," he said with a half-hearted, self-deprecating smile. He brought his servos up to rest on top of hers, his grip steady but gentle, like a man holding a delicate bird without crushing its wings. "You could have, should have, walked away a million times by now. But you didn't. You stayed. Why?" His gaze burned into hers, intense and demanding, as if the reason for her loyalty could somehow heal his shattered spark.

She let out a huff akin to a laugh, “Because i see myself in you… i see my anger at the world for treating me how it has. I see the pain of repeated loss, of abuse thrown out at me for the smallest things… I see the internal struggle just to get through the day. I see the struggle to trust, to truly believe someone wants to stick around, that they won’t hurt you…” She whispered. “I’ve seen you work yourself half to death just to try and get some sort of recognition. I’ve done the same. I’ve stayed because of how much you remind me of myself. Painfully so.” She said as she closed her optics and pulled his head down a bit to rest his forehead against her own before she opened her optics again to look into his before letting his head go back to how it had been.

A mixture of disbelief and understanding washed over Starscream's faceplate as he listened to her words. The raw honesty in her voice stirred something deep within him, a recognition of the shared pain they both carried. As she nestled his forehelm against hers, he closed his optics, letting her words sink in, feeling the weight of her pain and vulnerability intertwine with his own. A heavy exhale escaped his parted lips as he opened his optics again, the intensity of his gaze locked with hers. "You see me," he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You see the broken, tattered mess that I am. And yet you stay... I..." He trailed off, unable to find the words. A part of him still couldn't accept her loyalty, her belief in him. It went against everything he'd believed about himself, about the universe. But there was something about the connection they shared, the shared pain, the deep understanding of each other. It was as if she had peered into the darkest corners of his processor and wasn't repulsed. Instead, she saw him, truly saw him, and chose to stick by his side anyway.

She smiled softly as she took in his words as she slowly slipped a servo down to the middle of his chest, where his spark hid deep inside. She looked at where her servo laid. The ‘i see you’ saying was typically reserved for after spark bonding, used to strengthen the bond. But she didn’t care as she looked up at him. “I… see… you…” she whispered each word one at a time as she looked up into his optics, her own a reflection of understanding and acceptance. They had seen the deepest darkest corners they could of one another, sure there were still truly dark things they kept hidden, but they had bared their sparks and souls out to each other in countless conversations over the past 4 million years.

Starscream's optics widened in shock and surprise as she pressed her servo against his chest, where his spark lay hidden. The words 'I see you' struck him like a blaster bolt, sending a shockwave through his internals. As her optics met his, filled with a depth of understanding and acceptance that he had never seen from anyone before, his spark thrummed in response. He felt vulnerable, exposed, and yet...understood. He struggled to reply, his vocalizer glitching as he tried to find the words to articulate the emotions coursing through his circuitry.

It was as if a part of himself he had long ago suppressed had suddenly been uncovered. The desire for acceptance, the need to be seen for who he truly was, beyond the failed leader, the arrogant seeker, the traitorous pawn. He reached a trembling servo up to lightly place it on top of the one currently on his chest. His optics darted between her face and his own chest, a thousand emotions swirling within the sea of red. Finally, after a moment that seemed to stretch into an eternity, he spoke up, his voice trembling slightly. "You really mean it?" he asked quietly, his optics searching her face for any hint of insincerity.

He had to be sure. He had to know that this wasn't just some kind of trick. His trust had been shattered so many times before. But there was something in the way she looked at him, the way she said those words. It made him hope... against all logic, against all he had learned about the universe, he dared to hope.

“I… See… You…” she repeated softly, the words almost unheard between the two of them with how softly she spoke, “Every flaw… every perfection… i see you…” she said as she kept her optics on his, her servo splayed against his chest with his over holding hers against it. He saw her too and she knew it. They were two broken people, who found solace in the darkness of one another, in the reflected pain and the understanding. The two having become so close that they were practically two halves of one whole without truly being that way. They were so similar to one another that they were able to find comfort in one another.

The words repeated like an echo in his processors, each one striking a chord within his spark. Every flaw… every perfection. He could hardly believe it. Someone had not only accepted his flaws but also seen his good qualities for what they were. Not out of some obligation, but willingly, out of choice. A deep, guttural sob escaped his lips, the sound raw and pained as the weight of her words hit him like a tsunami hitting the shore. His knees trembled and gave way beneath him, and he sank to the ground. She followed him, falling to her knees with him as she looked into his optics, her other servo staying firm on his face as her other returned to his chest, feeling the beat of his spark beneath it. She focused in on the way his spark felt under her palm, the way hers began to sync up to the rhythm now that she held her servo against his chest.

She leaned forward and laid her forehead against his again and repeated her words once more, “I… See… You…” She said as her optics fell closed. She knew how significant those words were, she knew over and over every time she said them that the way she was using them were reserved for after spark bonding but damnit she meant it. Maybe one day she’d get to use them with someone she was bonded with, but for now he was the closest she had.

His spark felt like it was going to burst out of his chest at any moment. Between the proximity of their frames, the repeated words with undeniable meaning, and the way their sparks seemed to resonate in unison, he was nearly overcome. He let out another shuddering sob as he buried his face in her shoulder, his optics falling shut as he tried in vain to contain the flood of emotions coursing through him. Her presence, her words, her *acceptance*... it was overwhelming. He grasped at her, his servos trembling and uncoordinated, grabbing handfuls of her frame and pulling her closer. Every sensor in his body heightened, every processor seemed to only focus on her presence. Her touch, her voice, the pulse of her spark, the feel of her against him.

He couldn't speak. He couldn't think. He could only hold onto her as if she was the last fragment of solid ground above a bottomless, endless pit. After what felt like an eternity, he managed to find his voice again. His vocalizer crackled with static as he tried to force the words out, his vocalizer catching on each syllable.

"I…" he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. He could barely think straight with her this close, sparks practically dancing between the tips of their wings. "I…" he repeated, unable to finish the sentence, overwhelmed. He tried again, managing to force the words out as he held her even tighter against him. "I see you..." he said, the words choked with raw, unfiltered emotion. He held her like a drowning mech holding onto a lifeline, his hands digging into her plating. His spark pulsed wildly in his chest, resonating with hers in perfect sync. He had never felt so vulnerable… so exposed… and yet... so alive.

She immediately moved to wrap an arm around him as me moved to bury his head into her shoulder. She could feel as he clawed at the her back, grasping onto what he could and not letting go, grounding himself in her very being. His breathing trembled and so did his body. She laid her head to the side to lay against his.

As he spoke her optics opened wide as he repeated it back to her. She was almost breathless as her servo ran over the plating of his chest. She knew this was usually done while interfacing… but this moment seemed more intimate than interfacing could be. She sighed as her chest plating opened up, revealing the soft pink glow of her spark. She closed her optics praying to primus she wasn’t making a mistake. Starscream froze as she opened her chestplates, revealing the soft pink glow of her spark. His optics widened in surprise, taking in the sight of her spark laid bare before him. The raw intimacy of the moment hit him like a physical blow.

His breath caught in his throat as his own chestplates parted, revealing his own spark, its brilliant red glow a stark contrast to her pink one. They looked different physically, but they shared the same light. His hands trembled as he raised his servos to gently rest on either side of her spark chamber, afraid to touch, afraid to break this fragile, beautiful moment. Their sparks seemed to reach for each other, their tendrils swirling around one another, the edges of each spark gently brushing together.

A strangled noise escaped his vocalizer as the connection between them seemed to grow stronger, deeper. She looked into his optics as his servos moved away from her spark, tendrils of pink and red mixing together as she sat up on her knees and wrapped her arms around his neck as she lovingly pressed her lips against his, her lips moving softly against his.

She laid her servo against the back of his head as she leaned closer, their chests touching, very little space between their sparks as they kissed. She could feel the bond forming, she was taking a dive into his mind, every memory he held being shown to her and everyone of hers shown to him. They were diving through every inch of one another’s souls. Becoming intertwined for eternity. Starscream gasped into the kiss, the overwhelming wave of sensations washing over him, both physical and mental. He could feel their sparks connecting, the tendrils intertwining, the edges of their consciousnesses beginning to merge.

As their lips moved softly against each other's, he reached a servo up to gently cradle the side of her face. His mind reeled as memories, emotions, thoughts, and sensations danced between their connected sparks. They were becoming one. He wrapped his free arm around her waist, pulling her even closer, wanting her as close to him as possible. Their sparks glowed brighter as the connection grew stronger, the tendrils swirling together, their minds bleeding into each other.

He could feel every single thought, memory, and emotion that coursed through her mind. He saw the pain and loss, the resilience and strength. And she saw the same in him. They were no longer two separate entities. They were one being, sharing a single soul. She kissed him as she drank him in, every move of their lips against one another’s becoming more and more addictive. She continued her soft hold on the back of his head as they kissed. Their sparks slowly parted and slipped back into their chests as their chest plates slowly slid closed as she slowly pulled from his lips.

She kept her forehead against his, her lips only centimeters from his as she panted softly, trying to regain air as well as process the new found bond and being able to hear him in her own mind. The newly formed bond taking a toll on her, on both of them. However she had never felt so at peace, sitting here on the floor in his arms. He felt like *home*. Starscream's optics fluttered open as their lips parted. He found himself unable to look away, his gaze locked on her face. His own processor reeled as he felt the new bond settle, a constant presence in his mind. He could feel her thoughts, sense her emotions, just as she could surely sense his.

He leaned his forehelm against hers, his optics shutting once again as he let out a slow, shuddering breath. He felt safe. He felt seen. He felt... complete. "I…" he started, his vocalizer still crackling with static. He stopped for a moment, trying to find the words he so desperately wanted to say. He felt it in the bond between them, could see it in the look in her optics. It was the only thing that made sense now.

"I love you…" he said, his voice shaky and unsteady, but filled with raw sincerity.

She slowly moved her servos to either side of his face as she now practically sat straddling his lap, looking down into his optics as her thumbs gently rubbed over his cheeks as her breathing slowly began to even out, “I love you too…” She whispered softly as she tilted her head to kiss his nose before laying her forehead back against his.

Now she could finally say it to strengthen their new found bond, “I see you…” She whispered softly as she looked into the sea of red in his optics, feeling the sheer love he had for her in the back of her mind. She could feel how much he needed her, how much he truly cared for her even if he had never been able to express it. Starscream couldn't help but feel a lump form in his throat at her response, her voice so soft and full of tenderness. He could practically feel the love she had for him through the bond, the reassurance in her words settling over him like a warm blanket.

He reached up to gently take hold of her servos, his thumbs caressing her fingers as if trying to memorize the shape and feel of them. He was holding himself back, a lifetime's worth of experience telling him he didn't deserve this... but how could he not believe it when he could feel her love. He was about to speak again, but the words froze on his lips. The bond between them felt… different. Stronger, more concrete. He looked up at her, confusion and realization flaring in his optics.

"Did we just..." he whispered, his vocalizer still crackling with static, "Spark bond?"

He looked up at her, the reality of the situation sinking in. They had done the most intimate act a Cybertronian could commit. They were bonded, mind, body, and soul. She nodded softly against his forehead as she could feel the almost happy disbelief through their bond. She chuckled happily as her chest shook with each laugh, “Yeah… Yeah we did…” She said as she ran her servos over his cheeks and chuckled again as it settled in to her mind as well.

The weight of what they had done,

now two halves of one body, soul, and mind. They were mated for life, a fully bonded pair. Sure their bonding had been a bit unorthodox without doing whilst interfacing, without that act of exploring every inch of one’s body, of being in the midst of mind numbing pleasure… but that moment had been so intimate she wanted to do it then.

Besides, they could always have slow and intimate interfacing later with a bit of sparkplay, with allowing their sparks to intertwine once more. Starscream felt the laughter shake his own frame, his spark fluttering at the joyous sound. It was unbelievable. He had never thought he would ever find a mate. He had thought himself not worthy of such happiness. But here he was, bonded to the most beautiful being he'd ever laid optics on, the connection between their sparks flaring with new depth and intensity. His spark practically sung in his chest, singing only for her.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to sit fully atop his lap, the contact against her frame sending a shiver up his frame. Now that they were bonded, it was like a switch had been flipped, and the full force of his emotions had been unleashed. He let out a shuddering sigh as he ran his servos over her frame, almost reverently touching every inch of her. She was his. And he was hers.

He pulled her against him, holding her tight in his arms. The feeling of her against him, the bond between their sparks singing in his processor, the knowledge that she was his- all of it combined to make him feel like he was on cloud nine. And he still found himself wanting more. He needed more. He needed to show her how much she meant to him. He needed to worship her like the goddess she was. He ran a servo up the side of her back, following the contour of her wings as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. He pressed a single kiss against the sensitive wires there, his frame shuddering against hers as he moved to nip softly at the edge of her wing.

She let out a soft inhale as she was pulled into his lap before she smiled. Her optics slowly closed as he moved to place a feather light kiss to the crook of her neck as his digits began to run over the backs of her sensitive wings. She reached up to do the same with his, her digits running over his wings as he placed a light nip against the upper edge of her wing. She let out a shaky sigh before she turned her head so she could whisper into his audial. “I don’t think your office is the best place to continue this…” She said with a soft sigh as she continued to trail the tips of her digits over his wings as he did with hers Starscream shuddered against her, the sensation of her servos running over his wings driving him mad. He let out a shaky breath before he spoke, his voice filled with unbridled desire.

"Agreed."

He pulled her closer against his frame as he slid his servos to her hips, lifting her from the floor as he got to his feet. He kept his arms encircled around her, the need to have her against him as much as possible almost overwhelming. "My quarters are nearby." She nodded as she slowly stood up with him, “Walk there or me teleport us?” she asked softly as she moved her servos back to his face, her digits mapping out as much as she could as she held him in her servos, her red optics on his.

Starscream paused for a moment, his processor briefly considering each option. He took a moment to relish the feel of her servos on his face before speaking. "Teleport us," he said, his voice thick with desire. "Quicker. Less chance of being interrupted." He tilted his head to press a kiss against the palm of her hand, his optics meeting hers, already brightening with anticipation.

she nodded as she quickly zapped them inside of his quarters just by his door. She opened her optics back as she looked at him, her servos slowly moving down and over his neck, and to his shoulders, making out every piece of him she could reach as she looked down at where her servos were.

She knew they were going to take their time, to learn every inch of one another. So she took her time letting her digits trace over the seams over his plating, looking at where her digits rolled over, mapping out every piece of him with her touch and optics as she watched as her digits continued to trail over him. Starscream groaned as she ran her servos over his frame, every movement of her digits sending sparks of pleasure skittering through his circuits. He could feel the bond between their sparks flaring to life, their minds now so deeply intertwined that he wasn't entirely sure where he ended and she began.

He tilted his head to the side, his optics shuttering as he allowed her to touch and explore him. He'd never let anyone have this much access to him before. But now, he would let her in ways he'd never allowed anyone.

Her digits moved to his chest, moving with feather light touches as she leaned forward and placed light kisses against his shoulders, a few on his neck before she moved to continue to trace her digits over his chest before moving to his arms, her servos going to one at a time as she held his arm in one servo and the digits of the other traced over every seam before doing so with the other.

She slowly leaned down a bit to kiss over his chest as she let her digits fall to his abdomen as she began tracing over it. She slowly sunk down to her knees as she placed a soft kiss to the middle of his abdomen, leaving a small trail of kisses as her digits moved down to his thighs. She knew once she was finished he’d get his turn to do the same. She moved to place a kiss to the front of his right thigh before letting her digits trace over the seams on the inside and outside before they moved down to his calf, then she moved to his left leg and did the same.

Starscream tried to hold himself together as she kissed and touched his frame, but his control began to fray as she slowly traced her servos over his frame, gently exploring his seams and plating, learning every dip and curve of his frame. He could barely form a coherent thought, sparks dancing through his neural circuitry and leaving him trembling, desperate for more contact, more touches, more *anything*. He swallowed a moan as she moved to kiss his abdominal plating, the sensitive metal quivering beneath her touch. He felt both weak and powerful at once, a paradoxical mixture of desire and vulnerability.

She slowly rose to her feet as she grabbed hold of his face and placed a soft kiss to his lips before walking back behind him. Her digits continued to trail over the back of his helm and down to his neck and shoulders before she placed a soft kiss to each wing, feeling as he shuttered and let out a few soft sighs as her digits trailed over the sensitive metal. She slowly sunk to her knees against as her digits moved to his back tracing over delicate seems as she placed soft kisses to the small of his back, her servos running over his sides before running over the back of his thighs. She was worshiping his body as he was soon going to do to hers before she slowly stood up and walked back infront of him as she laid her servos on his cheeks and placed a quick and soft kiss against his lips and let him do the same worshiping she had done.

His spark fluttered in his chest as she slowly started making her way back upwards, planting gentle kisses and leaving a trail of sensations in her wake. He found himself trembling as her servos traced over his wings, the metal quivering under her touch.

She then slowly sank back down to her knees, and he almost lost control right there when she kissed the small of his back. He let out a strangled gasp as he felt his legs go weak beneath him, his processor swimming with sensation and desire. And then she was standing in front of him again, her servos gently holding his cheeks, and he found himself staring into her optics with a look of raw desire and need. She had almost brought him to his knees with just those few simple touches, and he was itching to return the favor.

Slowly, almost reverently, he raised a servo to cup the side of her face, his touch gentle yet trembling with anticipation. He pulled her closer, their frames nearly pressed against one another as he leaned down to press a kiss against the sensitive cluster of wires on her neck. He slowly started to kiss his way down her neck, his lips trailing a path over her plating, caressing every seam, every edge, every dip and contour. He wanted to taste every inch of her, to memorize every bit of her frame like a prayer, like a litany of devotion.

He sank down to his knees in front of her, moving his lips to her chest as his servos moved to rest on either side of her waist. Slowly, he mapped out the delicate metal of her abdominal plating with his servos, his lips following after, leaving behind a barrage of kisses and nips. He continued to slowly make his way down her frame, savoring the taste and feel of her under his touch, and he soon found himself at her thighs. His servos gently caressed her legs, and he slowly planted a trail of kisses up and down one thigh before mirroring the gesture on the other side.

He took a moment to simply kneel there, his servos gently holding her hips, his face pressed against her plating, every part of him wanting to be as close to her as possible. He felt lost, like he was sinking in a sea of sensation and desire. But he wouldn't trade it for the universe. She let out soft sighs as she watched him slowly begin to worship her body, kissing over every inch of her plating as his digits and servos ran over her body, sinking to his knees how she had done with him. She looked down at him with pure love and adoration in her optics as she watched him hold her sides as he placed kisses to her abdomen once again.

She watched as he let his forehead lay there and she laid her servo on the back of his helm before she watched him stand and he slowly walked behind her to begin the process over again, her optics falling shut as she processed every feeling over every touch he gave to her, every bit of attention he payed to her frame. Starscream slowly ran his servos up and down the sides of her back, his touch light and almost worshiping as he continued the journey of his lips and fingers over her body. He couldn't get enough of the way she trembled and shivered under his touch, the sounds of her sighs and the flutter of her spark sending waves of pleasure through his chest.

His servos continued to travel, mapping out the lines and planes of her back, his lips leaving a trail of kisses along the edge of her wings and down her spine. He took his time, relishing the feeling of her sensitive wings quivering and fluttering under his touch, the way she let out a particularly shaky breath when he placed a kiss between her wings, the sound making his spark flutter in his chest.

He felt as if he was drowning in sensations, all of his processing power focused on the goddess in front of him, on the way her frame felt against his lips, how her spark flared in time with his, the feeling of their minds dancing together through their bond. He continued the journey, his lips slowly moving down the length of her back, each kiss and touch filled with need and desire. He paused when he reached the small of her back, his servos gently holding her hips as he laid a kiss there, before continuing downward.

He moved down her legs, slowly mapping out the sensitive metal with his lips and servos, every inch of her frame feeling like electricity under his touch. And when he was once again at her feet, he slowly moved back up her frame, his servos gently gripping her hips as he rose to his feet, his helm still bowed against her back. He felt as if he had just offered a prayer to a deity, leaving his spark bared and his desires laid in an offering as he pressed a soft kiss to the nape of her neck.

She let out a soft sigh as he finished and place a soft kiss to her neck, his arms wrapped around her waist as he held her. She slowly broke away as she turned around grabbed his servo as she slowly walked backwards towards his berth and once the backs of her legs hit it she wrapped her arms around his neck, the back of her left servo moving to run over the side of his face. She looked into his optics with a loving look in her half lidded optics, spoken ‘i love you’s’ being sent through their shared bond as they gazed into each other’s optics. She took her time to just gaze into his optics and enjoy the mech who gazed back.

Starscream's processor was nearly swimming with sensation, his whole being overwhelmed with love, desire, and a deep sense of *rightness* as he held her there, their bodies pressed together and their minds tangled through the bond.

He let out a shaky breath as he looked into her optics, that deep red now swimming with emotion. He returned her silent ‘I love you,’ his own words echoing through their connection. His servos gently caressed her back, his touch needy and tender at once. He wanted to stay like that forever, drowning in her presence, drowning in her touch. Nothing in this universe compared to her, no feeling, no sensation matched what he felt now. Slowly, gently, he lowered her back onto his berth, his frame following as he pressed his body against hers, his lips against her neck once more.

She slowly laid back against the berth and she turned to go back against the berth until her helm laid against his pillows as he followed her, his body hovering over hers as he leaned down to place a soft kiss to her neck. He was settled with his left leg between her legs and his right on the outside of her left.

She ran her servos over his chest and down his abdomen before slowly making their way back up and she wrapped her arms around his neck, one servo on the back of his head as he placed kisses to her neck. Starscream groaned softly against her neck, his frame shuddering against hers at the touch of her servos on his plating. He continued to kiss and nip at her neck, one of his servos holding himself up on the berth beside her while the other traced a path between her legs.

He was already starting to lose what little restraint he had at the feeling of their frames pressed together like this, and he fought to keep his desire in check. He pulled away from her neck for a moment to look into her optics, his own optics dark and burning with need. He wanted her, needed her, more than anything he'd ever needed in his life. But he wouldn't rush this. He would go slow, worship her slowly and properly like the deity she was. He wouldn't ruin this with haste or impatience.

He gently rolled his hips against hers, the metal between his legs rubbing against her plating, sending shivers of sensation up his frame. She let out a soft sigh as she felt his servo slowly begin trailing down the middle of her body and between her legs. Her right leg moved so her foot was planted against the berth and her knee in the air as he panel slid open. She sighed softly as she felt two of his digits slowly roll soft and slow circles into her bud.

She closed her optics and laid her helm back as she let out a small sigh of pleasure. The way he seemed to worship her as if she were a goddess was doing things to her, making her feel as if she was the only femme in the universe, as if she was truly worth something. Starscream's sensors were flooded with the knowledge that she was ready for him, the feeling and sight of her panel opening for him like an offering. He groaned softly at the feeling of her bud on his digits, the taste of her pleasure and anticipation filling his processor.

He took a moment to adjust himself above her, his frame settling in the space between her legs, his servos on either side of her helm as he looked down at her laid out on his berth like the most beautiful of gifts. His servos gently grabbed her arms and placed her servos above her helm, pinning her to the berth as his lips moved to her neck once more. He wanted her at his mercy, at his complete control, completely at his mercy as she was now, ready and waiting for him.

He pressed his body against hers, still moving slowly, still taking his time worshiping her, but he could feel the last fraying threads of his restraint beginning to snap. His frame trembled with need, his cooling fans running full throttle as his lips continued to move over her neck and his servos slowly roved over her frame. He couldn't get enough of her, couldn't feel enough of her, and he suddenly needed to taste her, to feel her against his lips.

Without warning, he left her pinning and moved back down her frame until he was between her spread legs, his optics burning and his vocalizer practically hissing as he looked up at her. She gasped as he pinned her wrists above her head, his lips working against his neck before he suddenly let go and slid down the berth so he was in between her legs. She looked down at him as she bit her lip, watching as he pulled her legs over his shoulders. She was careful of his wings, making sure to lay them just under his wings.

She slowly let her optics fall closed as she felt his glossa against her anterior node, softly laying kitten licks against it before leaning in to softly suck on it before pulling back as he leaned down and licked at her entrance and she let out a soft moan with every lick of his glossa and kiss placed around the inside of her thighs. Starscream heard the sound of her gasp as he settled his frame between her legs, and it was quickly followed by the sound of her moan as his glossa slowly worked against her sensitive node.

He felt himself teetering on the edge of restraint and he fought to hold himself together a little longer, his servos gripping her legs and his lips and glossa working against her sensitive areas. He felt a rush and power as he tasted her, as her frame shuddered and quivered against his touch. He continued to taste her, his glossa teasing and exploring her, his servos moving across her thighs, leaving behind a trail of marks and kisses wherever they went. He found himself drowning in the sensations and the taste of her, in the sounds of her moans and the feel of her frame beneath his lips and servos.

He felt the last fraying threads of his restraint beginning to snap, the rush of power and need overriding any and all control he had left in him. He leaned back, pulling himself up onto his knees, still between her legs, his servos grabbing her hips and lifting her slightly off the berth. She let out a sharp gasp as her optics flew open as he moved to his knees and grabbed her hips, pulling her up. She looked down at him, her legs down dangling against the berth below her, not high enough to stand but now low enough to be on her knees. She laid her servo on his helm as she let out small moans as he ate her like a mech starved.

She began rolling her hips into his mouth as she practically rode his face, feeling the tip of his rose against her bud with every roll of her hips, moan after main soft falling from her lips as her head tilted back and she let herself get lost in the pleasure he provided. The feeling of her hips rolling into his mouth, the taste of her against his glossa, the sounds of her moans and gasps filling his audio processors drove him even further towards the edge of madness. He felt like he was drowning, overwhelmed by her, lost in the pleasure and need he felt for her.

His servos tightened around her hips as he continued to taste her, his grip probably leaving marks on her plating, but he couldn't bring himself to care right then. He felt her servo against his helm, and he almost wanted to purr in satisfaction at the feeling of her touching him, her touch only adding to the sensations bombarding his processor. He wanted to touch her, taste her, take her in every possible way, and he was rapidly losing what little control he had left.

It didn’t take much more of his assault and the rolling of her hips before she overloaded with a louder and shaky moan as her legs twitched and her thighs instinctively closed around his helm as her frame trembled with pleasure. Her optics were closed as she let out shallower moans following each after shock of her overload. She felt his servos go to the small of her back before he slowly leaned forward and placed her back against the berth once more as her thighs slowly released his helm from the grasp. her optics were closed as her vents came in shaky and quick as she tried to recover.

Starscream was lost in the feeling of her overload, the taste of her on his mouth as her frame trembled against him. He felt as if he was drunk on her, his servos shaking as he moved them to the small of her back. He slowly laid her back on the berth, his frame hovering above hers as he saw her chest rising and falling with each shaky breath she took. His servos slowly moved from under her to lay over the front of her thighs. He was consumed with need for her, his processor swimming with a thousand desires.

He slowly moved up her frame, each inch of his plating coming into contact with hers like a prayer, his servos slowly roaming over her body like a blind mech trying to memorize his surroundings, like a mech worshipping at his patron goddess's altar. By the time he finally reached her optics, he felt as if he was drowning, the sheer amount of desire and need he felt for her almost overwhelming him. He gently cupped her helm between his servos, his voice coming out in a deep, lust-filled hiss. "Need you," he said, the words more a plea than a demand.

She looked up into his optics as she was finally able to open hers as she felt his servos move to cup her cheeks. She reached slowly to hold onto his wrists as her legs moved off of his shoulders and back to being on either side of him, her feet against the berth and her knees by his hips. She gazed lovingly into his optics as she gave him a nod to let him know to go ahead and she gave him a loving smile.

She heard as his interface panel slowly slid open and his spike pressurized. She leaned up and laid a soft kiss against his lips, tasing herself on them before she laid her helm back against the pillow as she watched him look down as he moved his right knee and thigh under her leg before slowly pushing into her. She let out a small moan as her optics fell closed at the slow stretch as he slowly pushed inside of her valve. She could feel and every bump and ridge on his spike and it only added to the slow pleasure.

His systems were almost overwhelmed with sensation, her touch, the feeling of her lips against his, her valve enveloping him as he slowly pushed into her was bringing him undone faster than any other experience in his life. He felt like a drowning mech, lost in her, completely at her mercy and he only wanted more of her, needed more of her, more of her in every possible way. He leaned down and laid a kiss on her neck, his voice coming out in a low, needy hiss. "Only you," he said, his voice thick with overwhelming emotion.

He continued to push forward, his helm burying against her neck as he went deeper. She was all he could think about, all he could feel, all he could smell or taste. He was lost, drowning in her, drunk on his need for her. He kept his mouth on her neck, his glossa tracing a path across the metal as he slowly rocked into her, one of his servos moving to rest on her hip as the other moved to grab her servo and intertwine it her digits with his as he started thrusting at a slow pace to get her used to him.

She held onto his servo as she felt him begin to slowly move, his whispered words only fortified the love she held for him. The unspoken words of love that traveled through their bond as he slowly began to move his hips, pulling out slowly before slowly pushing back in. She felt as he slowly began to build up his pace. It was neither slow and soft but neither rough and fast. It was somewhere in between, thrusts deep and sensual as he kissed and sucked at the cables of her neck. nipping at certain spots, feeling as his glossa would run over the spots he’d sink his teeth into.

Starscream was already lost in her, every circuit and sensor in his processor overwhelmed by her, consumed by her as they moved together. He felt like he was drowning, lost in the sensations of her and the love he felt for her. He felt the love coming from her through their bond, and it only fueled his need for her. His lips and glossa continued to kiss and nip a path across her neck, his pace picking up slightly as his need for her grew. He could feel her frame beneath him, the way she held onto his servos, the sounds of her pleasured moans in his audio receptors. It was overwhelming, more than he'd ever experienced in his life. And it was all her, all her causing him feel to this way.

He found himself slowly picking up the pace, the pleasure becoming too much for him to go slow any longer. He found himself moving deeper, harder, his servos gripping her hips tighter. His lips continued to find any patch of metal they could, kissing and nipping at it before he pulled back slightly. She was starting to loose herself in the mind numbing pleasure, her processor slowly going blank as she lost herself. She practically couldn’t tell where she ended and he began. She could feel his pace quicken and she let out a string of louder moans as she slowly opened her optics to look up at him as he pulled away.

she could feel herself being pushed towards another overload extremely quickly as her legs moved to wrap around his hips. Every thrust of his hips against her own driving his spike back inside of her and his hip plating sliding over her anterior node. She reached up with her free servo and pulled him into a kiss as her chest plating opened up once again to reveal her spark to him. His processor was nearly shut down, every thought, every circuit, every servo now centered on her and the ecstasy he was feeling. Every circuit, every sensor, every spark beat of his screaming for her, needing her, burning for her.

He didn't hesitate in returning the kiss, his mouth hungrily claiming hers as his own, his glossa slipping into her mouth to claim it as his own. He could feel the sensation of her legs wrapped around his waist, her anterior node rubbing against his plating, her spark exposed and open to him. He pulled back from the kiss, his chest plates opening up to reveal his own spark as he lost himself completely. He was completely lost in her, drowning in her, consumed by desire and the need to be connected to her in every way.

He leaned forward, leaning his frame over hers so that they were pressed as closely together as possible. His servos moved to the back of her thighs, gripping them tightly as his pace picked up even more. She heard his chest plating slide open as he pulled away, leaning down against her, his helm leaning into the crook of her neck as his servos hooked under her thighs, untangling them from around his hips and pressing them down towards her, almost folding her in half as his pace quickened further.

She could feel his spark pulling at hers, her consciousness diving back into his very soul and being. Their pleasure being reflected back at one another until they both were on the edge of their overloads before he thrusted into her one last time before he began filling her with his transfluid. Their sparks connecting, the pleasure bouncing back and forth between them, almost consuming them. He felt like he was being set aflame, his consciousness drowning in hers. The only thought, the only sensation, the only thing that existed right then was her, her being, her very self. She was everything to him, everything he ever wanted, everything he needed.

He heard a low, throaty moan rip from his vocalizer as he thrusted one last time into her, feeling his transfluid fill her. His cooling fans were on high, his frame shuddering against hers, his servos gripping her thighs almost painfully. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t do anything but feel her, feel every part of her. He was drowning, lost in her, completely and utterly lost in it all. She moaned with him, her back arching up to press her midsection against his, their chests already pressed together. Her head had fallen back and was pressed hard against the pillow beneath it before she finally began to come down from her overload, her body resting back against the berth.

She could feel his borderline painful grip on her thighs before he finally started to leg of them, letting them fall back gently against the berth as he panted against her shoulder. She moved her arm to lay it over her optics as her cooling fans ran on the highest setting trying desperately to keep her body from overheating at the exertion. He continued to pant softly for a few moments, his systems still rebooting and taking a few moments to come down from the overload. He managed to raise his helm and look at her.

He felt like he was in a daze, as if he'd just woken up from the best dream of his life. His body was still shaking, his fans still loud as they went into overdrive trying to cool him down. He looked down at her, and he thought she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life. He slowly raised himself up off her, still panting as he tried to get his fans under control. His servos gently let go of her thighs, slowly running down the length of her body as he tried to come down, tried to recover.

He took a few more deep ventilations before he laid himself down next to her, feeling completely wrung out as he looked at her, his expression one of pure awe and adoration. Once the pair calmed down from it all she removed her arm from over her optics as she heard him shuffle, hearing his chest plates closing as well as his interface panel shutting closed as he moved to lay down on his chest next to her. She opened her optics and turned her helm to the side to look into his.

She could feel his exhaustion through the bond and she could see the pure love in his optics as he looked at her laying beside of him, his arms crossed under his helm. She couldn’t help but smile at him as she weakly moved her arm over to lay a servo against his cheek. He closed his optics and leaned into her touch, the feeling of her servo against his cheek like a soothing caress after the storm they had just gone through. He felt complete and utterly wrung out, but happier than he could ever recall being in his life.

He opened his optics again and looked into hers, the expression on his face filled with a soft look of love and contentment. He reached out and laid his own servo on top of hers, gently holding it against his cheek. He lifted his helm slightly, turning his mouth towards her servo and gently laying a quick kiss against the metal as he gave her a soft smile. He lowered his helm back onto his outstretched arms and just laid there, looking into her optics and holding her servo against his cheek.

No words could adequately convey all the things he was feeling right then. His spark was full of love for her, his entire being consumed with it as he looked into her optics. He did however speak up, “Do you want me to go get you some energon?”

She smiled as he grabbed her servo, gently holding it against his cheek after placing a soft kiss against it. She let her her optics fall half lidded before they opened back up all the way as he spoke. She slowly retracted her hand and gave him a small nod before speaking up her voice a bit hoarse, “If you wouldn’t mind…” She gave him another soft smile as she laid her arm over her chest as her vents grab evening out and her cooling fans slowly began to slowly slow to a to a stop once she started reaching a better temperature.

He nodded softly as he slowly sat up, his frame protesting slightly at the movement after the activities of the evening. He moved to stand up, but stopped once he was sitting on the edge of the berth. He looked over at her, still laid out on the berth, and he couldn't resist the urge to reach out and gently run his servo over her cheek, unable to keep his servos off her for even a moment. "I'll be right back," he said quietly before reluctantly standing up and heading out to the main room.

He walked into the main room, immediately moving over to the energon dispenser on the far wall and pouring two cubes, one for himself and one for her. As he watched the liquid energon fill up the cube, he thought of her laid out on the berth, of the things they had just done together.

He felt happy, he felt content, he felt at peace. A feeling he was still somewhat unfamiliar with and had certainly never experienced before meeting her. He walked back to the berthroom and he finished his drink quickly, setting the now empty cube on the table next to the berth. He laid down on his side, his helm supported by his servo, as he looked down at her. He could see exhaustion starting to creep into her optics, and the knowledge that he had been responsible for it brought a faint smile to his face.

He laid his free servo on her abdomen, gently rubbing his thumb against her plating in a soft, soothing gesture. She watched as he disappeared out of the door to the his berthroom and she slowly pushed herself up on her servos and slowly scooted back and stretched her neck and arms a bit. Her legs were a bit sore and unstable but she was otherwise pretty okay. She looked up when she heard pedesteps and she smiled as she saw her now sparkmate with a energon cube in hand.

She reached out as he neared her and took it in her servos as he moved to may down on his side, his wings moving to accommodate him. She slowly brought it to her lips and took a long drink of it. She drank about a quarter of it before taking it from her lips and she turned to look at him as he laid a servo on her abdomen. “hmm… i love you…” She whispered before bringing her energon cube back to her lips and drinking it down to half the cube. He smiled softly at her words, his spark singing happily in his chest as he heard her proclaim her love for him.

He rubbed his thumb gently against her plating once more, gently circling his digit across the metal in soft, soothing motions. “I love you too,” he replied quietly as he continued to look down at her, his optics filled with love and adoration. She brought her energon cube back to her lips and drank down the rest of it before twisting away for a moment to set it down on the nightstand beside of her before she settled back down in the berth next to him with a small smile as she watched as he sat up and laid down on his back. She chuckled before she weakly crawled ontop of him.

She settled comfortably with her helm tucked under his. She let her optics fall closed, just enjoying the feeling of his warmth beneath her, the best of his spark in her audial, it was like a soothing balm to her mind and was slowly beginning to coax her exhausted body into recharge. He chuckled softly as she moved ontop of him, his arms automatically wrapping around her frame as she settled against him. He found himself almost reluctant to move, her warm frame on his was the most amazing feeling he'd ever experienced in his life.

He let out a soft sigh of contentment as he settled back against the berth, his servos gently running up and down her back in a soothing motion, his own optics slowly beginning to shut down as he relaxed. The beat of their sparks syncing in a slow, reassuring rhythm, lulling them both into recharge.

#starscream #transformers #starscream x reader #valveplug #HOLY SHIT HOW DID I WRITE 10K WORDS!?!#idw #idw starscream #starscream idw

56 notes · View notes

cosmerelists · 2 days ago

Text

Cosmere Characters as Hotel Guests

As requested by anon. :)

If Cosmere characters stayed at a hotel that was suspiciously like hotels in our world that I've been too, what would that be like?

1. Kaladin: The one who gets up SUPER early to do things

Kaladin is a morning person, as Shallan realized during their Chasm Field trip. Kaladin is the one up at the crack of dawn, hitting the hotel buffet and then embarking on the 19 tourist destinations he has planned before lunch. Honestly, the hotel barely sees him.

Kaladin: The hotel buffet opens up at 6am?! Kaladin: Wow, talk about burning daylight. Kaladin: Well, maybe there's a coffee shop or something that opens earlier...

2. Lightsong: The one who barely leaves the hotel room

Lightsong knows that the point of a vacation is to lounge.

Lightsong: Scoot, do you think you can call down and ask them to send up some more pillows? Llarimar: You have six pillows already, Your Grace. Lightsong: Yes, but I am trying to create a pillow nest, and right now it lacks structural integrity. Llarimar: ... Llarimar: Right away, Your Grace.

3. Wyndle: The one who is excited by all of the funky hotel decor

I'm thinking in like a Hilton or something, where it's not bad decor, but the hallway carpet is a strange pattern and the painting on the wall is a silver apple on a bed of tulips for some reason.

Wyndle: Wow! LOOK at this chair, mistress! Wyndle: Such a fine and rare specimen! Lift: And just THINK of all the different butts that have sat on it! Wyndle: ... Wyndle: I-I suppose that is a type of enthusiasm...

4. Siri: The one who is delighted by all the little sops and shampoos

I think Siri is someone who appreciates the little things, you know?

Siri: Wow, Vivenna, look! Siri: It's shampoo, but it's TINY! Vivenna: ...Yeah? Siri: It's so CUTE!

5. Vin: The one who wants to steal all the little soaps and shampoos

I mean, it's not actually stealing of course, but if you keep stashing all the little soaps and shampoos in your bag, then they bring you more, and you can end up with quite a few!

Vin: Is it a holdover from my days on the streets, do you think, that I feel such an urge to grab every single one of these tiny hygiene items and stash them in a big pile in my suitcase? Elend (sticking a shower cap and a makeup wipe in his bag): Maybe but then what explains me?

6. Rock: The one who is too excited about the hotel breakfast buffet

Look, I know that Rock can actually cook well and has good taste. But I also know that he loved crunchy soulcast chouta wraps. I just think he'd enjoy the novelty of it.

Rock: This melon, she's so crunchy! Sigzil (wearily): That's because it's not fresh. Or ripe. Rock: It's called texture!

7. Yumi: The one who is excited by having a TV in front of the bed

...It's me. I've never had a TV in a bedroom and I always think it's so fun and novel to have a giant TV that you can watch while in bed. A-And Yumi would be like that too, I'd bet! She loved the Hion Viewers!

Painter: ...At some point, we should probably leave the hotel room. Yumi: Ooooh, another episode of Law and Order is on next!

8. Wayne: The one who tips the cleaning staff well

Most people who tip leave a few dollars. Wayne leaves...more.

Maid 1: This guy took all of the hotel shampoo and left origami ducks in their place... Maid 2: He also tipped each of us $500, so he can be as eccentric as he wants.

9. Sadeas: The one who actually uses the mini bar

I assume that only rich, fashionable people use the very expensive mini bar that exists in some hotel rooms.

Sadeas: [Lounging in the hotel robe and drinking a martini] Sadeas: I bet Dalinar is making instant ramen in his hotel coffee pot or something right now. Ialai: What did I say about daydreaming about Dalinar on our vacation? Sadeas: ... Sadeas: Just saying. I'm fancier.

10. Vasher: The one getting drunk in the hotel bar

He's the one slumped in a corner, radiating darkness.

Vivenna: Aren't hotel drinks a little expensive? Vasher: Eh. Path of least resistance.

11. Steris: The one who sanitizes every item in the hotel room

Listen, Steris read about how the cleaning staff don't have time to clean the remote control or the light switches or things like that. That's why she has those huge boxes of sanitary wipes.

Steris: [ceremonially handing a box of sanitary wipes to each of her kids] Steris: Go, my children! [children yelling in excitement as they start wiping down everything] Wax: This...isn't why we had children, right? Steris: Actions can have multiple reasons.

12. Breeze: The one who orders room service

I mean, Breeze LOVES when other people bring him the food/drink he wants (mostly drink).

Breeze: I think my Soothing is getting even more impressive. Allrianne: Oh? Breeze: Why, I simply spoke through that phone and asked them to bring me up a glass of wine, and they're doing it! All the way from here on the seventh floor! Allrianne: ...It's room service. You pay for that. Breeze: Shhh, let me have this!

13. Vivenna: The one who unpacks fully

We're talking, hanging up all of your shirts, putting socks in the dresser, the whole nine yards. I have a friend like this and it's weird, right?

Vivenna: [humming as she puts all of her socks carefully into a drawer] Siri: [glances over to her own suitcase, which is somehow already a giant pile of clothes] Siri: Strange sometimes to think that we're sisters...

14. Wax: The one charged with a massive cleaning bill

Let's be real: Wax and his team bring massive destruction wherever they go.

Hotel Manager: ... Wax: ... Hotel Manager: ... Wax: ... Hotel Manager: How did a herd of rabid geese even GET into your hotel room?! Wax: I'll just write you a check.

#cosmere #cosmerelists #Kaladin #Vivenna #Siri #Sadeas #Wax #Wayne #Vin #Vasher #Lightsong #Steris #Yumi #Rock #Wyndle #Breeze

63 notes · View notes

inkk-tv · 1 day ago

Text

[ ꜰᴏᴏᴛʙᴀʟʟ ᴘᴜʙ ɢᴏʟꜰ : ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ]

He can hear it in her voice, wants to hear more of it. “Yeah?” “You know,” Lucy’s got this smile on her face, something a little coy, teasing even. “If this wasn’t for a video, and we were on a night out, I’d probably take you to the bathroom to snog.”

in which: Arthur strggles with the will to move on.

5k words [ part two ] [ masterlist ] [ unseen (coming soon... ]

[warnings: excessive drinking, sexual innuendos and sexually explicit content]

Arthur doesn’t think he’s been this gone since uni, when he lost all his muscle mass after quitting boxing and pints were one two pound each. The walk between one beer garden to the next is nowhere near as sobering as it felt at age nineteen with worn down trainers scratching against the pavement.

It’s got him dizzy, that light headed floaty feeling that only arrives after at least six standards and a distinct lack of food.

Starting the day hungover did him no favours, he’d vomited up all the food (and the first two drinks) he’d consumed at pub number two. Somehow, he’s still gone. Probably the empty stomach and all of one glass of water’s contribution.

Pub seven came with another beer garden and the fresh air helped immensely. So does the pot plant at the end of the table- an emergency puke spot that’s a better alternative than the astro turf. Arthur doesn’t quite manage to snag the seat on the end and he’s not close enough to chundering to ask for it but if worse comes to worst, he can lean past Lucy to puke.

She'd probably kill him if he vomited on her. Infact, Lucy’s staring at him like she knows he’s thinking about it.

“You’re so gone.” A smile cracks her lips as she talks, leaning in a little closer to inspect his face and the semi-vacant look in his eyes.

Arthur feels his cheeks flare up in a blush. He’s not a prude or a soy-boy by any means, but it’s been a while since he’s had a girl that was as pretty as Lucy in such close proximity. His last few nights out have been soured by everyone’s attempts to get Chris to chat up a girl, which leaves a bitter taste in his mouth at the reminder of how painfully straight his best mate is. Then again, it is Arthur’s fault for going and ending up completely head over heels for straight man, an experience he became well acquainted with in his uni days.

Fancying Chris was an old hat for him, Arthurs had the better half of a decade to get acquainted with the misery of it. Devastatingly enough, his type is painfully cookie cutter. Blonde, around five-five or five-six, athletic and able to dish it out as good as they can take it.

So he’d always sort of strayed away from Lucy Bell. She’s the right shade of pretty that scares him off, not keen to make a fool of himself by making it obvious how fit he thinks she is. That’s gone out the window today.

“George is gonna take me home to sleep on his couch.” he offers, holding his phone for her to see the open text thread. “He’s worried I’m going to choke on my own vomit.”

“He’s so good.” Lucy goes to grab his phone, and Arthur hands it over easily.

Her fingers are a little clumsy with it, but she manages to open the imessage widgets and send George a game of connect four.

She does that a lot, Arthur’s noticed, the little games on her phone. He’d watched her do the wordle in the park while they waited for the production team to finish getting sorted. The evidence of their naughts and crosses games are littered up the insides for their arms- her left and his right. Now she’s started up another one with George.

Arthur wonders if she knows chess. He doesn’t ask though. “If you lose, George is gonna think I've fallen off.”

“One connect four loss won’t kill you.” She says, rolling her eyes.

“Hurt my pride maybe.”

Lucy tuts, like he’s given the wrong answer. “Well don’t worry, I never let George win. Even when we’re drunk.”

“Is connect four a normal thing for you when you’re drunk?”

She shrugs. “Gotta get the boys interested somehow.”

“Don’t think you need connect four for that, Luce.”

He must have gotten it right that time, because, although still looking down at his phone screen, some semblance of a smile appears. Smothered by the way she bites at her bottom lip to contain it but most definitely there. “Flattery gets you everywhere, Arthur.”

Flirting is a bad idea. They’re both fairly drunk and the last time he’d been this drunk and tried to flirt with a girl, was Ibeza when he told the story of getting a hard on from a surfboard and having a wank in the ocean. Lucy still has a somewhat respectable opinion of him, no need to go and drag it through the mud.

But at the same time, he can’t not flirt with her.

There’s an opportunity presenting itself here, something in her words. He can hear it plain as day, she fancies him too. Arthur’s gotten better at picking it over the years, what it means when a girl sits close enough to press their legs together, fiddles with his fingers or asks to compare hand sizes. (Flo, his flatmate at the time, had to explain that last one to him after he’d left some poor girl at a club, not realising she was interested in him at all)

He can hear it in her voice, wants to hear more of it. “Yeah?”

“You know,” Lucy’s got this smile on her face, something a little coy, teasing even. “If this wasn’t for a video, and we were on a night out, I’d probably take you to the bathroom to snog.”

He sits up a little straighter, the way he always does when a compliment is lobbed at him, brain playing catch up to make his posture better, his jaw a little tighter, presenting the best version of himself. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She repeats with a smile, looking him over. “But I get the vibe you’re not that kind of guy.”

“I can be.” Arthur says, feeling the need to assure her that he would, if she showed up on future nights out and asked. “Depends on the person.”

Lucy purses her lips. “Waiting on someone special, are you?”

He can’t help but glance back to where Chris is stood, chattering to the camera and his production team.

“Ah.” Lucy lets out, nodding her head a little as she connects the dots. “It’s Chris isn’t it?”

“It’s not- I mean, I’m not hung up on him or anything,” he scrambles to defend himself, because he's never really had to explain it to anyone else besides his older sister, and he’s never had to lay it out drunk before. “But I feel bad sometimes, talking to people at some bar or club when I still kind of fancy my best mate.”

“I don’t blame you. He’s easy to fancy.”

And Arhtur’s learnt to spot it, so he hears the way she says it. The same way she’d been speaking to him. Only this time, she wasn’t talking about him.

“No,” Arthur looks at her for a moment, as she squints at the screen to read whatever text has pinged though amidst the game she seems heavily invested in. Something that feels like disbelief hammers about in his chest. “Surely not.”

Lucy glances up to give him a flat look. “You are literally the last person who can judge me.”

“You’ve got a better chance than me.” He offers, because yeah, she does. Lucy’s proper fit, she’s funny and she’s smart. If she went up to Chris on any given day and asked him out for coffee, there’s no doubt in Arthur’s mind he’d say yes. “At least he likes women.”

She bites at the inside of her cheek as another message pings though, Arthur’s phone buzzing silently. “I put too much effort into getting over him to backtrack now.”

“See, I saved your pride.” She says with a smile, sliding his phone across the table to display the connect four game, a little crown spinning around on the screen.

He sort of wants to say something else.

Encourage her to go for it. But part of him is selfish, wants to keep her to himself. Maybe if he does that mindset she’s built will rub off on him and Arthur can claim some of it for himself.

Arthur doesn’t want to backtrack.

It’s in her eyes when she looks at Chris, the resignation, the decision to get over it. He wonders if there’s truth to it, if this really was a night out, and Lucy had spent an hour drawing naughts and crosses up the inside of his arm, that she truly would snog him in the bathroom. If he’d take her up on the offer.

He could fancy her, if they got talking one day.

Maybe at one of George’s house parties. She used to go to those.

Or at a club. Arthur could imagine her there. She’s the kind of girl that would have guys scrambling to prove themselves, peacocking about and buying her drinks to win her favour, wanting nothing more than to take her to a club bathroom, push her up against the wall and lick into her mouth.

Maybe she’d let them push her to her knees, like she’d done to him an hour ago. Maybe she’d go home with them and let them kiss her into the mattress. He’s seen comments about it, when she features in videos, what people on the internet thinks happens behind closed doors or how they reckon they would pull her.

Arthur doesn’t think that sort of thing suits her though.

Lucy’s the kind of girl that should be treated right.

If it was him, he’d ask for her number, maybe kiss her goodbye before leaving- so she knew he meant it. Bring her flowers before the first date, hold her hand and buy her coffee in the morning. Arthur would work for it, work for her.

For a few moments, as everyone else settles around the table, he entertains the idea of it, going out with Lucy Bell. She would be fun to waste time with, Arthur can envision her curled up on his couch watching a nature documentary, her head in his lap or back to his chest. Maybe she’d go to the theater with him, or to see the new exhibitions at the museum.

The two of them could have fun, be good together.

He stews on it while Cal dishes out shot glasses to them all, smells his own with caution. One more would finish him- It would probably finish off any of the English team. Lucy’s a little more giggly than she had been earlier in the day, and the little nose scrunch of displeasure she does has been appearing much more frequently. She’s getting cuter by the minute.

There’s only two fake shots in the mix and luckily he’s been handed one. Maybe it’s because Cal can see how gone Arthur is already and is preemptively slowing down his alcohol intake. But skipping one shot probably won’t make all that much of a difference when they’ve still got two pubs to go.

It takes his brain a few seconds to catch up with the fact he’s supposed to trick the other team and cringes at the ‘burn’ of it a smidge too late. Becky knows him well enough to spot it and they come out of the challenge three-nil, to Germany.

The penalty is a choice between three points or three shots and Chris speaks for all three of them when he decides, as captain, that they’ll take the points.

Harry takes Lucy inside with the aim to get some for the six of them. Arthur watches them go, she’s wearing these heels, chunky platform style ones with delicate little silver buckles that are just high enough that he’s worried she might tumble. She’s steady though. He wonders if a few more standards will change that, if by the time they’re all ready to head home, she’s gonna be the one needing piggy backs instead of handing them out.

His phone pings with a text. It’s from George, asking how he’s drunk enough to misspell every word in his texts but still win connect four. It’s accompanied by a rematch.

Georgie Poo [connect four]

Arthur 2 Idon’t think i can wein Luce har my phone

Georgie Poo luce? as in Lucy Bell?

Arthur 2 Yeah< Shes prety gon too Still betterr off than me rn< Cna we take her home too?<

Georgie Poo you don’t mean my house right? she hates it. too dirty. and Alex is here. they don't get on.

Arthur 2 No nono< Liek ehr flat.< Don’t want her onthe tube alone.<

Georgie Poo how noble of you, king Arthur.

He almost tells George to fuck off but it might not come across right over text and if George does actually fuck off, then Arthur will have no one sober to keep him sane and offer advice when he inevitably considers doing something stupid, like asking Lucy Bell to snog in the bathroom.

Admittedly, Arthur does give the game of connect four a go as Chris settles down next to him, more so that he doesn’t stare and inspect every aspect of him that somehow managed to pull Arthur and apparently Lucy Bell at some point.

“Look at these biceps man…” Chris murmurs, pushing up the sleeve of Arthur’s jersey. His hands are softer than they used to be- the change in focus at the gym evident though less calluses and crack on his palms.

He licks a thick stripe up the skin of Arthur’s arm. “Oh my god.”

It doesn't get much of a reaction, Chris’ been licking him all afternoon. All their lives. Arthur, for a while, used to think it was a them thing. That it was just something about him that made Chris want to sink his teeth into or run his tongue over to taste. He knows better nowadays of course, and if he didn’t the accumulating tally marks on Lucy’s arm would be telling.

“Such little fat on there.” He pinches and pulls at the skin of Arthur’s arm. Picking the next box in connect four is a little harder, hearing the praise, knowing Chris’ eyes are on him and only him.

The bite comes half a second later, and it’s enough to actually get Arthur pulling away. “Oh my god.”

Nowadays, the biting is so common that it doesn’t even make Arthur’s stomach flutter anymore. And when it’s time to leave the pub, and Chris hauls him up, arms looped under his and braced on his chest, murmuring about how good Arthur smells, he realises he is far too drunk to unpack it.

So many compliments had been lobed at him in the last few hours. They swirl around his head in a dizzying storm. It’s got him stumbling.

He’s not lying when he walks out of a store, a hundred and twenty quid poorer with a pair of shoes in hand that aren’t even for him and says, “Financially and emotionally, I’m in ruins.”

But he’s on camera and there’s not a whole lot of time to pour his guts out on the pavement, cry about how he feels guilty for wanting to ask out a girl he’s only just met and still being hung up on his best mate.

Looking at her, feeling his stomach flutter when she laughs, it’s different to checking out a girl at some club. This is Lucy, she’s not just some chick, she’s so intricately woven into the lives of his friends, and how she’s not managed to end up in his before, is a mystery.

It seems that everyone knows her.

He knows she’s Geroge’s gym buddy, and that she works in the fellas offices with more than half of the UK Youtube scene. Evidently she’s got some kind of friendship with Chris- he talks about her fondly, with nicknames and stories- and they must have spent enough time for her to get hung up on him for a while.

“Do you fancy her?” Becky’s question sort of throws him, not just because of the implication, but more so because he hadn’t even realised she’d appeared at his side.

He blinks a few times, slinging his arm over her shoulder, more on instinct than anything. “What?”

“Lucy, Do you fancy her?” Becky asks, slurring a little with a smirk on her face, like she already knows the answer already. “She thinks you’re ‘well fit’.”

She makes air quotations when she says it, and Arthur wonders where she possibly would have heard Lucy say that. Unless she’s kidding. “Is that a direct quote?”

“Oh yeah. When you were opening up a new overdraft to buy Harold shoes, he asked for one word to describe you.”

“Well-fit is two words.”

“She said it’s hyphenated.”

Yeah, that seems pretty on brand for what he knows of Lucy Bell.

The question is dropped though when Becky stumbles over her next word and he lays into her for it, sending the pair of them spiraling into laughter as she continues to butcher it.

Further ahead, he can see Chris and Stephen in some sort of playful scrap. Today’s been a good day for Chris.

It’s been an iffy few months, some days where he seems like he’s on top of the world, others where he doesn't leave or let anyone in his flat. Arthur’s been worried about him, most of their friends have been. He’s moving in with Gorge and Arthur Hill in a few months, the three of them flat hunting every other week. Everyone agrees that it will be good for him, to get out of the home he shared with Shannon.

He doesn’t talk about it; the break up. Everyone’s walking around it like broken glass, the remnants of Chris’ love life splintered and shattered on the floor. Nobody even knows why it happened. He’s not said anything to Harry, Will or Arthur- just avoids the elephant in the room.

For some odd reason, he seems okay with the jokes, but any serious talk, he shuts down quickly.

There’s a group of them that’s pretty dedicated to keeping his spirits up. Arthur has been ending up at pubs and bars most weekends with Chris, George and Arthur Hill. Will and Lucy make efforts to check in with him at the office- even his production manager Jess gives them updates, although they are admittedly becoming less frequent now that it’s been a good six months. Even Harry drops by his flat once a week or so.

Things might be different if he wasn’t so weird about the whole thing. Six years was a long time, but being so shut down about it all, even after half a year, was worrying.At least he doesn’t seem hung up on it.

Arthur wants to move on.

He doesn't want to be holding out hope for the same guy. Not for a seventh year in a row. Analysing every little comment and action amounts to nothing everytime a hinge notification appears on Chris' lock screen.

He'd tried it himself, for a few weeks. It was too weird, to read a comprehensive list of character traits and decide if he could like them a few dates down the line. None of them ever felt right. With chat that was a little too dry or an over-fascination with the title 'youtuber'. Tinder hadn't worked out for him in uni, so why Arthur thought Hinge would now, he's not entirely sure.

Meeting someone organically has always been better for him, at a bar or in some club. The problem was that Chris' latest ventures as a single man meant he actually went out with them all. Nights that used to end with a girls number in his phone or his legs tangled in someone else's sheets now conclude with an uber home to someone's flat- whoever's closest- and passing out on the couch.

It's hard to chat someone up when Chris is sitting at the same table, a physical benchmark of all Arthur's preferences that he can't help but compare them to.

Sometimes it's worse, when he goes to Chris' flat and there’s a ripped off club-band on the kitchen counter. Or when he shows up to filming and the ink stain of a club stamp on the back of his hand. To know that Chris is going out, looking for someone to be his other half in places Arthur isn't. It's as much of an answer to his affections as Arthur would get.

He wonders if it pricks at Lucy the same way. The club stamps Chris never cares to wash off, telling of his night, lingering when she sees him in the office.

The thought sticks in his mind as they finish off the last pint of the afternoon, sending Chris off as their champion of drunk keepy-uppies and watching Stephen stack it and effectively eat pavement.

Lucy leans into him as she laughs warm and solid against his side, a steady presence that reminds him of what he could have.

She’d made it clear she was interested, Left the ball in his court.

At the next pub, whenlucy heads inside to find herself another glass of water, Arthur makes vague excuses of needing a piss and follows her inside to the bar.

She’s leant up against it, one foot planted on the ground and the other crossed over it, tapping against the wooden floorboard. There’s a cup of water in her hand, a pink and white striped straw poking between her lips as she drinks it down. She smiles around it as he joins her at the bar.

“You know that thing you said about snogging?”

Lucy turns to look at him. “Hmm?”

“Would you?” Arthur swallows thickly. He might be about to make a fool of himself but it’s worth the risk. “Or was that just banter.”

“I would.”

Arthur can feel the blush rising on his cheeks and there’s a smile pulling at Lucy’s lips as she glances once out the door then back towards the bathroom sign.

Her hand is a little cold in his, from the half drunk glass he abandons on the bar. Arthur’s nerves are spiking but he goes, follows as she pushes the door to the women’s bathroom open to peek inside before turning and pulling him in by the hand.

He’s done this sort of thing before, in clubs, bars- once at the uni library- but never on a shoot. Then again, he’s never met someone quite like Lucy Bell.

She’s a vision, pretty blonde hair and dark green eyes blinking up at him as a blush blooms on her cheeks. Arthur finds the soft curve of her waist, hidden by the baggy jersey and pulls her in close, backing himself into the door. He’s a little stunned and very drunk but Lucy’s lips are so soft.

When he licks against them, she still tastes a little bit like the last pint they’d downed. She presses onto him, slides one hand up to cup his jaw and scratch at his stubble in a way that leaves his skin tingly, the other one settling against his chest.

Everything about it feels right. Lucy fits against him perfectly, and he can almost imagine doing this in his kitchen. Cooking something together and stealing kisses, snogging while it sits in the oven then again on the couch when they’re supposed to be watching a movie. He wants to kiss her into the mattress and fuck her propper, then maybe make her a cup of tea afterwards and hear about her day.

Lucy Bell isn’t the kind of girl you’re okay with only having once, and as she snogs him into the bathroom door, runs her tongue against the points of his canines, Arthur knows there’s no getting past her. Not now that he knows what he’d be missing. Pressed right up against him, a leg slotted between his as she presses as close as possible. Arthur kind of wants to turn her around, press her into the door, but he likes the way they’re stood a bit more, where he can hold her close by the hips, palm low at the skin of her thigh, just under her skirt hem.

She breaks the kiss to huff a breath or two and Arthur ducks his head to mouth along her jaw. A trail of kisses down her throat that stings with the taste of rose that must have dribbled off her lips a few pubs ago.

“Arthur,” She gasps out when he finds a spot along the hollow of her collarbone and nips at it. “I don’t have concealer on me.”

He’s lived with enough beauty influencers to know what she’s saying. Don’t leave marks. He presses one more kiss there that’s probably a little soft for what they’re doing. “Sorry.”

Then her lips are back on his and she bites at his bottom lip, slips her tongue past too.

It’s only when he tugs her that last half a step closer and feels the pressure of her against him, that Arthur realises he’s got a problem.

This time, he breaks the kiss, letting his head thunk back against the door. Lucy nips at his jaw and he’s forgotten how good it feels to be taken, wanted and desired. Feels too good.

“Luce,” Arthrur murmurs. “We gotta take a breather, or else this is gonna get away from me.”

Maybe it’s selfish, or dickish, to drag her close for one little grind against the tightened fabric of his shorts, but there’s a little hitch to her breath that makes something stupid like pride bloom in his chest.

“Yeah,” She says in nothing more than a whisper. “We are supposed to be doing something else right now.”

There’s no reason to be whispering, considering they’re alone in a room and the world outside is more than noisy enough to smother any noise coming from the bathroom. But keeping quiet, it lets Arthur believe that for a while, the world is just the two of them. Him and Lucy.

“Okay. Game plan. Thirty more seconds,” He interrupts himself to press another kiss against her lips. “Then you go back out. I'll sort myself out, then I'll join you.”

“‘Sort yourself out?’” She repeats with a teasing smile, leaning in to kiss at his jaw again. Then whispers against his skin, right by his ear “Arthur are you going to wank in the pub toilet?”

It wracks a shiver down his spine and Arthur has to tighten his grip on her hips to stop his hands wondering.

“No.” He replies, a little petulant, even though he’s not really sure how he’s going to dispel the semi that’s only getting worse.

She looks like she wants to ask another question, maybe tease him a little more but there's a shine to her lips- red and kiss bitten- and today, rather uncharacteristically, Arthur is an impatient man.

It’s a struggle to rein himself in, stick to the allotted thirty second time he’d set himself that they almost definitely go over, but there are people expecting them, and at least one more drink to down.

So Arthur detaches himself from her, sticks a kiss on her cheek that’s definitely too tender to come from the bloke she snogged in the pub bathroom, and watches her slip out the door. Eyes drifting over the skin, just under her skirt that swishes with each step, and the little crescent indents from his fingernails, dug into her skin. It’s possessive, the feeling that curls in his chest, even if he has no right to feel that, no reason for his stupid monkey brain to lay claim over her.

Arthur’s not sure how long he stands there before readjusting himself in his shorts and walking over to the sink, splashing some cold water on his face. He looks like he’s chundered.

But it’s not like another red card would make much of a difference, they're so far behind in the points it’s ridiculous. Although, Arthur isn’t all that saddened by the loss of a domino's pizza; he’s gained a lot more from today.

Even if he only does get to have Lucy Bell once, in a questionably clean pub bathroom, she's offered him something a bit more special than a snog.

Perspective.

Arthur’s not backtracking anymore, he’s not going to read into it when Chris goes for the fake lean-in and says, for the cameras, that they’d shag. He doesn’t have to be over Chris, but the willingness to move past it, that's what's important. It’s all out in the open with Lucy, she knows, and he guesses, that he sort of knows too. She’d fancied Chris, at some point. When that was, isn’t all too clear but evidently, it was sometime recently, If she was scared of backtracking at least.

Maybe they could be good for eachother, him and Lucy.

Thankfully he wore the black corduroy shorts today, initially it had been in case he spilt a drink on them but he’s learning that they do wonders to hide the outline of his dick. Arthur clicks the lock open on the door, prepared to go and pretend he’s a lot more sober than he is and definitely not half hard from snogging a girl, only to be met with a very unimpressed look. “Arthur Television.”

For a mortifying moment, he thinks Becky is here to scold him, for snogging a drunk Lucy and having the gaul to consider wanking about it. Thankfully, he’s been in the bathroom a lot longer than he realised.

“Get your arse out of there, or I’m going to piss myself. Use the mens next time, you dirty bastard." She all but shoves him out of the way, and hurries inside, leaving Arthur a blushing and apologetic mess in front of the two other women queuing up to use the bathroom.

Everyone’s outside and it doesn’t seem like anyone’s really missed them; he’s not sure if that’s worse or better than being caught.

He feels like he’s spotted a checkmate in three, having to bite his tongue and play it cool, not let anything slip. Lest someone find out how ecstatic he is.

[ part two ] [ masterlist ] [ unseen, coming soon... ]

ink note: let it be known, Lucy and Arthur's ship name is 'Bell-evision' and George is the one who coins it a few chapters down the line.

[ Tag List: @kneelforloki @ooostarwarsfandom501st @rkaya @yamum189022222

if you would like to be added to the fic's tag list, let me know in an ask and you'll be tagged when each chapter goes up :) ]

#arthurtv #arthurtv fics #arthurtv x oc #arthurtv x chrismd #arthur frederick #arthur frederick fics #arthur frederick x oc #chrismd #chrismd fics #chrismd x oc #chrismd x arthurtv x oc #chris dixon #chris dixon fics #chris dixon x oc

46 notes · View notes

freyito · 2 days ago

Note

I need more Gallagher, I think I’ve read everything x reader about him

So here are some ideas, you can also do other characters with this of course

Gallagher x reader he’s had a long day and accidentally snaps at you. hurt/comfort

Gallagher x reader you accidentally fall asleep at the bar while he’s closing up. Fluff

Gallagher x reader the once married got divorced years past you meet again and realize your still in love trope…

Gallagher x reader close proximity. Smut/fluff

Gallagher x reader he’s the first person to buy you flowers. Fluff/comfort

Gallagher x reader after an argument you go missing… perhaps on your own terms out of anger or your actually kidnapped, either way soft fluffy ending

Gallagher x reader comforting after a nightmare, could go either way or could be both

That is all, 👋👋👋👋

✭ pairing(s): gallagher x gn reader

✧ a/n: URGH ANON YOU GAVE ME. SO MUCH INGREDIENTS. I HOPE YOU KNOW IM THANKFUL. while i love EVERYTHING YOU'VE GIVEN ME :3... i've chosen the first three ehe :3... this one will be based off the third one YAAAY. ALSO HAPPYYYYY NEW YEAR!!! kinda happy this one will be my first post! i had a lot of fun with it if we couldnt tell ^^

✦ taglist: @fffrost, @shinysora

🗒 cw: gn reader, previous relationship, so much yearning (but like. not enough.), fear of commitment, mention of weight loss, depression, SIOBAHN THE GOAT, little bit of lore-building (he has a dog.), not proofread

✎ wc: 8k

ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴅɢᴇ

He was never like this. He had never lingered on his past for too long, an irrational fear of having it chain him down. After all, today’s Gallagher could be different from yesterday’s. No matter how well crafted the lie was, there were always some sort of leaks through the cracks, like just how much he loved you.

He was never made to be loved and love. He was simply a lie, and he knew that. He perpetuated this lie to you for all those years, simply because he was too greedy to admit his own nature (or perhaps, creation). Because, like the selfish creature he truly is, he did not want to let go of you. Most people seek out love, and he was no different, meme or not. He was created with the heart of a human, so who would fault him for making such an error? He lived and loved like any human would, no?

He wanted to be stubborn, by god, he wanted to be stubborn. And he truly was, right up unto the end. He held onto you like a man starved, only a step away from getting on his knees and begging you. But in the end, his love won out. You wanted the divorce, and he didn’t want to hurt you more than he apparently was, so he went through with it.

It hurt. It truly did, it hurt so much he still feels the sting after years. He tried to rationalize it every day he could, tell himself that you would’ve found out eventually, and he would’ve ceased to exist. But that made it even worse, it made him curl up on himself on those lonely nights in the room that was supposed to be yours, it made his throat tighten and his hands shake and he felt like such a goddamn fool. Someone like him shouldn’t be crying. There was no room in his facade to cry. So why did you make him feel this way? By now it had been several years. He should be over it. But he isn’t. And he resents himself for that.

You had moved on by now. A nice quiet life away from the heart of Penacony, a promotion, and an absolutely positive attitude once you weren’t weighed down by the ring. It’s not like you disliked Gallagher. There were never any fights, no contempt for one another, no reason to think he didn’t love you. But you were scared of the commitment. It only took you two years to realize. How did you stay with your job so long, but not Gallagher? You didn’t know. And it only served to make you feel even worse about the divorce.

You always find yourself thinking of him now and then, his face never truly leaves your mind. You couldn’t keep a partner for long at all, always searching for some little piece of him in them. While you didn’t want to, your subconscious was just as stubborn as the man himself. The two of you didn’t text anymore, and you assumed he had your number blocked. So, you yourself had assumed he moved on, and in the silliest, saddest part of your mind, you chose to accept that. Perhaps he got a new partner, maybe he’s even married again by now. He deserves it, you think. He was one of, if not the kindest souls you had the pleasure of meeting, let alone sharing a few years of your life with. So, you hoped he was happy.

Which couldn’t be farther from the truth. His days had become so monotonous that they started to blur together. Wake up bright and early, get some breakfast (which consist of the most mediocre meals, cereal and/or poptarts. Milk if he’s lucky enough), rush to work, patrol, break, patrol, home, and back to sleep he goes. He barely takes much care of himself anymore, his stubble much more of a mess than when you left him, hair still untamed. He’s done his best to watch himself and keep up, but in the end, the most he can do after work is drag himself to bed.

He’s missed your face oh so terribly, missed your laughter and humming and simply your voice. What a treat it would be to come home to that once more, sweep you up off your feet after you’ve had such a long day and pamper you in bed. He’d go on and on about how you need to eat properly, get enough sleep, and take care of yourself. Even if he’s had a stressful day, even when it is so very apparent by the way he dragged his feet when he came through the door, the way his voice was low and groggy and he could only get a few words out like he didn’t want to speak, the way his eyebags had gotten deeper, he still had his priority; to care for you. Now, he’s met with no one to care for, refusing to acknowledge himself without you.

Days off for him are a rare occurrence, and when he does get one, he chooses to sleep most of the day. He’d do it every day, if he could. He’ll get up and allow himself a shower, perhaps order some food if he really feels like it. But going out now, even to just treat himself, it’s impossible. Gallagher doesn’t want to bear facing the world without you. Even if it has been three years.

It’s obsession, he tells himself, though it is not. He loved like a dog, and had convinced himself since the moment you two started dating that there would never be a rift or a tear between you two. Years later he still grapples with the truth. He understands that perhaps there will never be a second chance, given how long it has been, especially without so much as a text from you. But, he wants one. So badly. He’d do anything, as he’s repeated to himself so many times, to have you back. To love you once more, to truly love you. And he hates himself for it.

Lately, his schedule has changed. He gave his supervisors full control over his schedule, choosing to open up his availability when you left. Only now had they taken full advantage of that, with the vacancies the Bloodhounds had after the Charmony festival. Despite being Head of the Bloodhounds, a different team handled the schedules, and completely disregarded the years of his life he gave to the Bloodhounds and flip-flopped his schedule around. He was pulling more doubles than ever, night shifts that turned into day shifts, his days off dwindled to one, and ultimately his health was thrown into limbo. Due to the changes, he was unable to sleep properly, at most, he got three hours.

Because of this, he didn’t have time to go to the Dreamjolt Holstery, choosing to put his job over his hobby. Which ultimately made him feel worse. While he tried to protest the changes to his schedule and the fact that it’s been stressful on him, his superiors ignore this, continuing on with the rough and unpredictable schedule. It takes a while for him to break, as strong as he is, he can only take so much.

Time blurs together for Gallagher, what felt like years could be just months, weeks, or days. Everything felt the same to him, even with his skewed schedule. Somehow, in between his shifts, he finds himself at the Holstery, hazy and tired out of his mind. Thankfully, there weren’t many patrons tonight, a few vagrants like himself spread out within the corners. Siobhan was surprised to see him, schooling her expression into neutrality when she saw his state.

Disheveled, tired, near half-dead. He greeted her with an unintelligible mumble, slumping down into a chair. He passes out right then and there, ultimately succumbing to the stress that had fallen on him over the years. Siobahn stares for a moment, unsure of what to do. When Gallagher had stopped showing up at the Holstery without a word, she was worried. The hound always found his way back, but he had been gone for months. And now here he was, in arguably worse shape then he had been for several years.

Coincidentally, you had a week off because of the Charmony Festival (and the subsequent tragedy that happened after), and you found yourself quite bored. It had been quite a while since you drank, seeing as you really only trusted one bar. You chose to leave it be after the divorce, not wanting to disturb Gallagher at all. But you can’t help but miss it. Surely it’s been a long enough time by now, so why not go pay the bar a visit? Surely Gallagher has moved up.

After a couple moments of debating, pacing around your apartment and thinking out a very overcomplicated plan of action if he were to be there. You’d leave immediately of course, avoid any of the awkward conversation, or perhaps any spite he had towards you. What if he came in while you were mid-drink? Then it feels like it’d be unavoidable… Still, you muster up your courage and walk out of your apartment. There shouldn’t be any hard feelings, anyways, right? It had been quite some time, and you two must have moved on by now. Surely you two would be okay if you were to meet again…

The cool(ish) night air calms your nerves, though. You can’t remember the last time you had a nice night stroll like this, even in the buzzing streets of Penacony. The city never truly slept, no matter what had transpired even seconds before. The dead of night could be just noon for people, or even morning. As such, most businesses kept running 24/7. It was always odd to you, even as a Penacony native, but you got used to it eventually. Bright flashing lights in your face at almost all times when you were out, endless ads about random things you’d never need for your daily life, and salesmen trying to corral you into their stores, to get you to buy luxuries even you can’t afford. Such was life, there was no tranquility in most Hours, anyways.

However, it all goes silent the minute you enter the elevator in the Reverie. The idle chatter from the lobby is shut away by the metal doors and a ‘clink’, as the elevator starts its ascent. You stand square in the middle, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt as you wait for the elevator to reach the floor. You can’t help but grow nervous with each second, all those silly, impossible events happening in your head again. What if you did see him? What would you do? It’d be hard to act normal after all these years.

Before you can answer your question, the elevator doors slide open, and your legs carry you through the hallway without hesitance. It’s much more quiet here, a light, jazzy tune playing in the Holstery. There’s no chatter, barely any clatter of the shaker or glasses, if any, and you know you’ve found an opportune time to show up. It had been so long since you’ve even visited the Holstery, your irrational fear holding you back. The amount of dates you and Gallagher had together here, impromptu or planned, was innumerable. You always loved watching him work, and sometimes he allowed you to get behind the bar yourself, teach you how to make certain drinks. Those moments were always special, as were most in the relationship.

When you step into the bar proper, Siobahn looks at you, then smiles gently. She had been the first to know about the divorce, from both you and Gallagher. Given how she was the only coworker Gallagher had liked, and how close you two were when you started dating him, it was only fair she knew. Not that there were many people you two talked to much. But she was supportive of both sides, never taking one or the other.

In front of her, a drunkard with brown hair is passed out on the counter, head in his arms as he snores. You shrug and walk around him silently, a few more chairs down, before sitting down. Siobahn raises an eyebrow and looks between the two of you, before taking a step over so she is standing in front of you. She opens her mouth to say something, pauses, then shakes her head and smiles even wider. Her eyes dart once more to the drunkard, and you turn to look out of curiosity.

He was wearing a white dress shirt and a vest, sleeves rolled up. The scars on his arms were impressive–

Ah.

It clicks only then, the man is Gallagher. You feel your stomach flip-flop, but your expression remains neutral. You don’t know whether you should just walk out now, reach out and tap his shoulder, or just talk with Siobahn. You want to do all three. So badly. You want to leave and avoid this awkward situation before it happens, but at the same time you want to see his face again. You also would love to catch up with Siobahn, seeing as you haven’t seen her in quite a while. But your focus is drawn to Gallagher.

He looks a bit thinner than you remember, more ragged even though you can’t see his face, and suddenly your nerves turn into concern. He never drank alcohol, as far as you knew. He despised the stuff, and really only enjoyed mocktails and virgin drinks. So, why did he decide to drink himself to this point…? In the end, your curiosity wins out, and you lean over, before standing up and sitting closer to him, just one stool between you. He doesn’t smell of alcohol, which soothes your nerves a bit, so you reach out and tap on his shoulder.

He flinches harshly, jerking up with a sharp breath and a cough, before looking down at you. His eyebags are heavy, eyes having a hard time staying open. His stubble is more of a scruff, one that looks quite itchy.

“Oh,” His eyes light up just a smidge when he realizes it’s you, a big, dopey smile spreading across his lips. “It’s you.”

The words are spoken with no ire, like you expected. Instead, he looked like some lovesick puppy, all smiles and sighs as he stared at you. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your heart flutter. It’s been far too long since someone’s talked to you like that, let alone looked at you like that, and you are glad it is Gallagher himself.

He does his best to blink the sleep from his eyes, before reaching up and rubbing at them. He takes a deep breath, a sound you fondly remember, one he made in the morning when he didn’t want to go to work but had to. And you find yourself pining for him. You turn your head away quickly, gathering your thoughts and looking to Siobahn for help. What could she do? You don’t know, but you sincerely hoped she could come up with something.

“Ah, well, it’s been quite a while since I’ve seen you,” She smiles gently, clearly holding back the word ‘two’. She herself doesn’t know exactly who she’s addressing, seeing as Gallagher’s finally awake.

“Yes, I didn’t expect to see you… or Gallagher here tonight,” You do your best to smile through it, but you can feel Gallagher’s hazel eyes burning into the back of your head. You are at war with yourself, telling yourself you can’t be feeling this way for Gallagher, just because of one look. Yet at the same time, you’ve missed him so dearly, it’s hard not to fall. Even with how ragged he looks at the moment.

Behind you, Gallagher sighs, yet you don’t turn to look at him, too afraid that if you were to catch another glimpse, you’d do something that would be contrary to the divorce and what you had told him. Siobahn shoots a quick glance to him as if now asking him to help, but when you don’t turn around to look at him, his shoulders slump. While what you said held no venom, it didn’t hold the fondness he was hoping for, either.

With a grunt, he pushes the stool out and stands up, shaking his head. You finally turn around, but he doesn’t look back, his footsteps slow and sluggish as he finally exits the Holstery. You turn back to Siobahn and the two of you share a look, falling silent for another minute. Perhaps Gallagher didn’t want to see you at all, and his smile was more out of formality and politeness than anything. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt, but you did your best to shrug it off. There was no real reason to feel like he truly wanted you back, anyways. It’d be selfish to think so.

“I guess he’s clocking out, then…” You mumble, an attempt at a weak joke.

“He had to quit about a month ago, actually,” Siobahn shakes her head, wiping down a glass quickly, before setting it down and leaning on the bar. “That’s the first I’ve seen of him since he told me.”

“I see,” You nod, looking down on the counter. You assumed Siobahn wouldn’t let him sleep on the job, anyways, so it made some sense. But why? As far as you remembered, he quite loved this job. “May I ask why?”

“Well, he said it was because of the Bloodhounds changing his schedule,” She shrugs, “So I took his word for it. He didn’t tell me much, though. And we haven’t really talked much since then. What about you? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“It’s been… a long while. Since I’ve even texted him,” Saying that makes you feel… horrible. You’ve barely talked to him, and yet he gives you one silly little smile and suddenly your heart is singing for him. “I didn’t expect to see him tonight. Well, I did, but I also didn’t.”

“Y’know, since that was the first time I’ve seen him in a bit… he also looked kinda rough. Real rough. But I mean the way he smiled at you…”

“I know. I know, I noticed it too. Both things. But I don’t think his smile means anything with the way he walked away,”

“He seemed more hurt than anything. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile like that, aside from when you two were married. Not that I’m saying you should get back together, but, he seemed quite–”

“I knowww…” You groan, lowering your head. “I’m starting to regret my decision, not like I can change it now, but the way he looked all sad and like a goddamn puppy, ugh.”

Siobahn chuckles, raising an eyebrow. She allows you to wallow in the silence for a while, before nudging you. “Perhaps it’s time to make up? Only if you want to. But I mean, if you’re feeling this way after, what, two years? Then, maybe…”

There’s a teasing lilt towards the end of her words, and when you look up at her she tilts her head with a small smirk. You hate to admit that she’s right, but also a part of you truly wants to. You’ve missed the intimacy he provided, the way his heart would skip a beat whenever you cuddled up to his chest, even after a couple of years, the way he’d fidget with your fingers when you held hands, or simply the way he’d look at you, how reminiscent his gaze was earlier of you’re previous days of love. Ugh, the more you thought the more you made up your mind.

“Fiiine,” You huff, as if you truly didn’t want to. But the way you get up hastily says otherwise.

“Oh, you’re really gonna try? You’re going to show up at his door?”

“Yeah. I am. I think it’ll be more… I dunno. It just makes more sense.”

“I’m cheering you on,” She chuckles once more, “Text me about the results once you're done. I know it isn’t my place to know, but… well, I’m pretty curious.”

“I will, I will,” You sigh, giving her one last wave before you head out of the Holstery all too quickly. It’s not that you didn’t want to continue talking with Siobahn; you truly did. But if you stayed any longer, you’d convince yourself to leave Gallagher be. And maybe that would be a good thing, but you already made up your mind. You could be chasing after a ghost for all you cared, but you figured you had to try.

The walk to his apartment was full of doubts. The night felt colder than ever, and you did your best to tell yourself to keep going. Perhaps you should’ve stayed at the Holstery and at least taken a shot for confidence. Every single part of you, even your heart, told you to just leave it be and go back to your own apartment. You see him once after a couple years and you decide to make everything right, now? But your legs keep walking, and you can’t tell if you hate it, or love it.

Before you can reach a definitive conclusion on whether to just give it up or go through it, you’re at his door. Suddenly it’s a lot more intimidating than you hoped, almost comically eerie, and you haven’t even knocked yet. Sure, it could seem all sorts of wrong for you to show up at his door, for you to even remember where he lived. But there’s no use worrying about that now, you’re stuck here whether you like it or not, and the only way through is, well, through.

You raise your hand and knock, once, twice– and the door opens. Gallagher stands in front of you, barely registering that you even knocked, looking just about as miserable as he did when you saw him at the Holstery. He blinks, trying to wash away his fatigue, before your presence finally registers.

“Mh, sorry, I can’t listen to your sales pitch,” He mumbles, as you take a couple steps back and he closes the door behind him.

“Gallagher.” That’s all you have to say, and he practically flinches, eyes widening for a second.

“A-Ah, sorry, I didn’t– I have work,” He stumbles over his words for a moment like he had on your first date, then immediately schools his expression back into something more neutral, locking the door quickly, before trying to walk past.

Against your better judgement, you reach out and grab his wrist. He pauses and looks back at you, and you swear you see a twinkle in his eye. Though, aside from that, you can feel the worry fester in your gut. If he has work, it’s so very selfish of you to pull him back. But you do.

“I’m sorry, I just,” You don’t know what to say, but neither of you pull away. Your hand loosens around his wrist, and it takes every bit of self control to not reach down and grab his hand. He’s still so warm, as warm as you remembered, and even though he looks quite beat, he still looks like the man you loved.

The silence stretches on for an unbearable amount of time. Gallagher doesn’t pry his wrist from your hand, despite how late he was for work already. He can’t find the strength to do it. He’s longed for something like this moment for quite some time, and now that he has it, employment be damned. His supervisors couldn’t give a damn about him, so why should he have to feel bad for being late? Plus, he had wanted this. So goddamn badly. If he pulled away now, all those nights hugging pillows and ‘i’m sorry’s didn’t mean much anymore. Perhaps they’d mean he had moved on. And he should be okay with that. But he wasn’t.

“I missed you,” He finally manages to speak, turning his entire body towards you. Once more, he looks like some lost puppy, and by the Aeons do you want to reach out and pet him.

“I’m sorry.” Is all you can get out in your fluster. You missed him, yes, and seeing him was only such a painful reminder of that. But at the same time, seeing his state, and remembering the piss poor excuse you left him with, how could you not apologize? ‘I’m just not ready’, what a joke that was. You loved him, dammit, and you weren’t ready? He gave you everything, he was ready. He was more than ready. And somehow, after three years of him cuddling up to you every night, cooking for you, making special drinks, all those sweet nicknames and the way he softened up after an especially rough nights, it took you a year of being in a relationship and two years of being married for you to tell him you weren’t ready?

Not only that, but he had given you no pushback. He didn’t beg you to stay or try to talk some sense into you, he just nodded and let the process start. That was it. You don’t know what impression it gave you, whether he wanted you to be happy or if he didn’t care for it at all. But hearing his words now made you realize what a fool you had been.

“Don’t– Don’t apologize. It’s my fault,” Gallagher finally wrenches his wrist free from your hand, only to put his own on your shoulders. “I wasn’t enough, so I oughta apologize.”

“No, no! That’s not what it was,” You place your hands on his biceps instinctively, and– Aeons, they’re still big– squeeze. “It was me being stupid. That’s all.”

“You’re not stupid,”

“Well I was for the way I left you,”

“No, don’t talk about yourself like that,” He finally lets go, hands falling to his sides with a huff. “I wasn’t enough, I get it. There’s no reason to apologize to me–”

“There is! You were more than enough–” You find yourself getting angry at his words. You pause, taking a deep breath and calming yourself. “I just… This isn’t about that. Maybe it is. I don’t know. You look like– You don’t look well. And I’m worried.”

Another silence falls between you two, making your stomach flip-flop. You can’t push away the previous exchange, and no doubt you’ll need to return to it later, but at the same time you didn’t want to keep him.

All you can do is nod fervently, because you worried that if you opened your mouth, you wouldn’t shut up. You didn’t want to make him late for work, but at the same time you wanted to tell him to just stay home and talk now. There was no way he could get work done in that state, especially at his rank. Before you can speak your mind, he’s halfway down the hall. However, he stands up a little taller, rather than dragging his feet as he walks away, and you can’t help but feel a surge of pride along with butterflies in your stomach.

. * 　　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

Eight hours feel like twelve hours while you wait. You decided you’d busy yourself with some chores at home to clear your head, but it ultimately made the day feel even longer. For the last couple of hours, all you could do was sit on your couch and fidget. It felt like you HAD to wait for this moment. If you started something now, you would be betraying a part of yourself.

All you had to wait for was a notification. Part of you wanted to just go over to his apartment and wait out the rest of the time. You felt an overwhelming need to apologize, your nerves eating at you all day. Seeing the shape he was in, the melancholy that lingered in the air no matter his sappy smile or his posture, you wanted to take it all away. You wanted to say it was some sort of savior complex, but to tell the truth, it was your feelings. Your silly, pathetic feelings. One little look and suddenly you were rethinking everything that had led to this point.

You could worry about it all day, but you could never reach a conclusion on whether you should give it up or push through to have this talk with him. All you could do was hope that something positive comes out from this. At worst, nothing would truly change in your life. You’d carry on as you have been, one step at a time. At best… perhaps you’d get a second shot. If you did, you promised yourself you wouldn’t let it go so easily. You wouldn’t let him go.

Just before you lose your mind, your phone vibrates. You’re way too quick to check the notification, like a lovestruck highschooler. It’s been quite some time since you’ve seen his name pop up on your phone, and just that causes butterflies to flutter in your stomach, despite your nerves.

“I’m on my way home now, if you’d like to meet up at my place”

It’s so oddly formal, coming from him. But you suppose you aren’t any better, your own texts coming off just as awkward, a simple ‘omw’ sent back. You didn’t mean to be so curt, but if you hadn’t been, you would’ve started to overthink your answer, even to just a simple text.

With a deep sigh, you get up off your couch and grab your keys and wallet, shoving them into your pockets. You take another moment at your door, trying to compose yourself. It feels quite right to see him again, to talk with him again, and you can’t stop the guilt from creeping into your veins. You are hoping for… more, again. After you left him for something so very selfish. You had stopped talking to him about three months or so after the divorce went through, rationalizing it as the fact that you and him needed to move on. You couldn’t just stay friends, and you didn’t want to impede on his own life. You made up all sorts of scenarios to keep your mind at ease, and for all you knew, you lied to yourself so that you wouldn’t look like a fool running back.

Yet, here you are. Yearning for more, more, more. You wanted to apologize– you did apologize. But you felt the need to do more. You didn’t know what was going on in his head, you barely understood why he looked like such a mess, and you, for the most part, wanted to somehow swoop in and save him. Like a hug and a kiss would fix all that was wrong. Maybe it would, but usually, that wasn’t how the world works.

Before you make your anxiety worse, you open the door and decide to push through. It’s all for clarity, at the very least. You aren’t doing this to possibly get back together with him, it’s to provide you, yourself, and Gallagher clarity. Clarity. All you can do is repeat that word to yourself as you lock your door and make your way down the hallway.

Each step makes you feel heavier, as you dread what’s to come. Every possible outcome starts to scare you, good and bad. You shouldn’t be that scared, with the way Gallagher acted around you, even if it was just a few minutes in total. But you can’t help it, the sudden wave of guilt twists at your gut and claws at your mind, and it takes all your strength to not turn on your heels and high tail it back to your apartment. You don’t know how many more times you will fight with yourself over this, but you can only hope this will be the last.

. * 　　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

Gallagher’s apartment isn’t necessarily as well-kept as it was when you two lived together. It isn’t exactly messy, you can tell he tried to clean it up in the few minutes he had from getting back from work and you coming over. But overall, there was a certain air of… melancholy. Bitter and thick, reflecting Gallagher’s state.

He himself seemed too nervous to sit down, choosing to stand by the couch and mess with his tie. He looked even more tired than before, voice rough with exhaustion. You had asked multiple times when you entered his apartment if he’d like you to come back after a later time, and he said it was fine each and every time.

“Would you like something to drink?” His voice comes out a tad weak, looking down at you with an oddly sheepish smile.

“I– No, I can get something myself… if that’s okay,” The last thing you’d want to do is make him work more.

“No, I’d really like to. Please? I promise I want to,” He gives you the look, soft eyes, sheepish smile, once again, like a lost puppy. “Please.”

You can’t help but sigh, shoulders slumping in defeat. It’s the kind of look he used when he wanted you to stay a little longer in bed when you two woke up (despite the fact that you both had work most of the time), and you cannot find the strength to say ‘no’ a second time. You give him a pitiful nod, and off he goes to the kitchen.

While he busies himself with the drink, you look around the living room. Not much has changed, save for your own items that were missing. Dog fur clung to nearly everything, as was the norm. He had brought his Doberman into the relationship, the sweetest pup you’ve met (aside from maybe Gallagher himself), who had endless amounts of energy. He had named the dog ‘Whiskey’, which… didn’t fit the dog at all. But who were you to judge? You had a puppy and a boyfriend at the time, so you were happy. You did kind of miss the dog, seeing as your apartment didn’t allow pets of any kind.

You wanted to ask where the dog was, looking over the back of the couch and into the kitchen. Gallagher was completely zoned in, a couple of different bottles of drinks and syrups on the counter, a couple ice cubes in a rather fancy whiskey glass, all while he was mixing the drinks. It is a sight for sore eyes, the tranquility of it all. There had been quite a lot of nights where you had sat exactly where you are now, and watched him work. He always loved mixing drinks, on the clock or off the clock. And you were more than happy to try most of them. His concentration softens his features, and for a spell he looks younger, more energetic, and not as weak as he has been.

You catch yourself blushing, and quickly turn your head away, turning your focus down to your hands, fidgeting nervously. What were you going to ask? Right, ask about Whiskey. Instead, you keep your mouth shut and force your mind to keep quiet. You can’t help the influx of memories that wash over you, especially in this space. Being not only close to Gallagher, but your old home, there’s a warmth that burns in your heart, one that can be extinguished all too quickly.

Before you can fluster (or perhaps hurt) yourself more, he’s placing the whiskey glass in front of you. It’s a nice, vibrant red, no doubt something fruity. A mocktail he made you quite a lot, one that you were always worried he would get sick of making. But, apparently not.

“So, uhm,” He starts, taking a seat on the couch as well. He leaves one cushion between you two, unable to allow himself to get closer. “I’m sorry.”

“Huh?” You didn’t expect him to start with that of all things. What did he have to apologize for? “What do you mean?”

“I dunno. I feel I have to. I don’t think I was…” He trails off, a note of sorrow in his voice.

Two years, he reminds himself. Two years, and he still felt this way. He wallowed every night, begged whatever force was out there for it to be different. Once again, he knew it was dangerous. There was no love for something such as him in this world, and yet he held onto the thought of you every waking day. For all he knew, you could be his undoing. If you were to find out the “Gallagher” you knew was not the Gallagher he was… it scared him. Yet, it scared him even more to be without you. Is it truly so bad to look for a warm hand when the clock stops ticking? Would it be wrong for you to be his final memory?

“I don’t think I was enough.” He says in an infinitely weaker and mournful tone. He looks away from you, shrinking in on himself.

The words themselves stun you. Suddenly, your throat feels tight and tears prick at your eyes. You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. You stare for a moment, taking in the way he finally seems smaller. A man you’ve always known to be strong, who you swore you’ve never seen be emotional aside from the day of your wedding, curled up in on himself, vulnerable. Somehow, hearing them now, it hurts even more than it did earlier. And you realize you have to prove him wrong, to tell him it was you, not him, wasn’t enough.

In a moment of selfish action, you scoot over next to him and reach for his hand. It is warm, and it trembles. But he doesn’t swat your hand away, nor does he look at you. After a beat, you grab his other hand, squeezing both.

“Oh, Gallagher…” You mutter, looking into his eyes even though they avoid yours. “That’s not it. You were more than enough, I promise you. You really were.” You squeeze his hands once more, to prove your point. “Somehow, I got it in my head that.. that I wasn’t ready. Even after all the time we spent together. And that’s on me– It really is.”

Finally, he looks up at you, his eyes glossy, mirroring your own. He squeezes your hands back, and relaxes just a little.

“I didn’t mean to rush you…” He responds, voice slightly shaky. He forces a small smile onto his lips however, and it makes your heart stutter.

“No, no, it wasn’t that. I was ready. I swear. I just– I should’ve talked to you, instead of doing what I did,” You huff, shaking your head. “It was unfair of me to come to that conclusion just because of some anxiety.”

“Well, I don’t think you should blame yourself like that,” Even his voice softens as he straightens up, turning his entire body towards you. “I really do wish you would’ve talked to me, but… if you were anxious… I mean, I get it. But don’t talk about it like that.”

You open your mouth to say something, but words fail you. All you can do is nod and meet his gaze, unable to tear yours away from those hazel eyes.

“... I mean, it was pretty expensive for something as simple as that, but– Sorry, bad joke,” He chuckles sheepishly, “But it’s okay. If anything, I’m glad we’re talking about it now, instead of never…”

His eyes rake over your face, down to your hands. He takes another breath like he’s about to say something, then pauses, shakes his head, and chuckles once more.

“I’m sorry,” Is all you can choke out, your hold on his hands loosening.

“It’s okay, there’s no need to apologize. I get it, I really do,”

Gallagher lets go of your hands as well, turning his hands over and presenting his palms to you. It’s a gesture that is so small and from the outside would seem meaningless, but something you always quite loved– as were most things you have seen tonight. You had a habit of playing with his hands whenever you could, running your thumb over the back of his hand when you two were holding hands, messing with his fingers to annoy him when you were watching a movie, and tracing over the creases in his palms to calm yourself down if your mind wouldn’t shut up. It helped when you were anxious, or when you couldn’t fall asleep.

Without thinking, you use your thumbs to trace over the creases in his palms, hands still rough and calloused as you remembered. For a moment, it helps calm your nerves, allowing you to think clearly. Yet, despite that, you can’t form any proper words. You untense and allow yourself to really, truly breathe. After a beat, he drops his hands into his lap, eyes searching your face for any sort of hesitance. You find yourself chasing after your hands for a moment, catching yourself and clearing your throat as you pull away.

“... I have a question. That you can say no to, okay?” He leans back, trying to seem more confident, but he wears an unsure smile on his lips.

“Okay,” You nod, your stomach, once again, flip-flopping.

“I… want to try again. If you feel the same, of course. I just…” There’s a subtle blush that dusts his cheeks as he looks around the room, reaching up and scratching at his stubble. “I meant what I said earlier today. I missed you.”

Your mouth goes dry. It isn’t something you expected– though, it is quite welcome. But you can’t help but hesitate, it sounds a little too good to be true. You bite your lip and allow the question to hang in the air for a second longer, still unable to conjure up a response. You’d tell him you’d love to, but–

“Just– Just a few dates, here and there. We don’t have to pick up where we left off,” Gallagher chimes in at your hesitation, before shrinking away, worried that he’s being too invasive.

You look down to your lap, trying to string your thoughts together and form a coherent response. This was the best possible scenario you had hoped for, so why do you feel so unsure? You fidget with your fingers, all sorts of ‘what if’s popping up in your head. What if it ends up like last time? What if this isn’t just a case of ‘right person, wrong time’, what if it always had been ‘wrong person, wrong time’? You loved Gallagher when you first started dating, you loved him when you married him, and evidently, you loved him even after the divorce. And yet… it was hard to say yes. But you couldn’t let your anxiety eat away at you this time, you promised that to yourself at that moment.

“I’d like that,” You finally speak, voice quieter than you anticipated, and shy.

When you look up at Gallagher, you can tell he’s trying to hold back his own little celebration. He opens his mouth to say something, moves a little in his seat, then closes it. His hand raises from his lap for a second, before he places it back down. Eventually, he figures out what to do. He flashes you a simple grin, the kind that made the corners of his eyes and his nose crinkle.

“Great. Yes. Totally. Okay, I’ll uhm– well, my schedule isn’t the best anymore, so… I don’t know. I mean, this can be a date, right?” He stumbles and trips over his words, unsure if he should let his excitement be visible or not. You haven’t seen him this flustered in a long, long time. And it warms your heart.

“It can,” You chuckle, tilting your head. “I mean, I did kinda miss our movie nights.”

“Perfect! I’ll, uh, well,” He moves to grab the remote off the coffee table, eyes flickering over to you in a bout of nervousness. “Guess I’ll get it started. Ah, wait– do you want some popcorn, or anything…?”

“Ah, actually… Can I ask where Whiskey is?” You can’t help but go back to the dog, as if having a movie night without the pup felt wrong.

“Oh, I-I left him in my room. Didn’t want him to annoy you or anything… uhm, did you want me to go get him?”

“Yes. Please.”

At your eager response, Gallagher practically scrambles to get up. You listen to him pad down the hallway to his room, before he opens the door. The minute that door opens, you hear Whiskey’s claws scratching at the hardwood floor as he runs to the living room to check out the new smells. He wasn’t much of a pup anymore, around 3 years old now. His floppy ears bounce up and down as he runs to you, and he practically crashes into you when he jumps up onto the couch (and ultimately into your chest). You can’t help but laugh as his entire body wiggles in excitement, licking at your face and sticking his nose into it every time you turn your head to avoid his barrage.

Gallagher can’t help but chuckle as he watches, taking his seat back, betraying you and leaving you to fend for yourself against Whiskey’s storm of kisses. Gallagher can’t help but ‘subtly’ reach over and wrap his arm around your shoulders. He figured since you were just soooo defenseless, why not sneak in? Despite the awkward, childish anxiety, like you two had just started dating from earlier, this feels so very… normal. Regardless, you didn’t have time to react either way. Whiskey was relentless with his kisses, determined to make up for the several years he didn’t see you.

Eventually, you are able to pry the dog off of you, and the space calms down for a moment, despite the excited wagging and half-lunging at you. Considering how much he has grown, it’s kind of hard to pull him back. But within a minute or two, he finally calms down, finding his peace on your lap, laying his head on your leg and staring up at you with big ol’ eyes, begging for attention every time you stop petting him.

“Let’s see…” Gallagher hums, finally turning on the tv and figuring out which streaming service to use. “What are you feeling? Horror? Classic? I’m game for whatever.”

“Hmm,” You tilt your head, scratching behind Whiskey’s ear. “I dunno. You pick.”

With a huff of approval, Gallagher chooses a streaming service, quickly scrolling through a couple of movies, before choosing a thriller. Why not be a little cliche? Even if you were used to this stuff by now, he can’t help himself. You can’t help but chuckle and smile at his choice, looking up at him through your lashes quickly. In a moment of selfishness (or perhaps lovestruck idiocy), you lean up and press a kiss to his cheek, before leaning your head onto his shoulder fully.

Gallagher can’t help but smile like a fool, hand squeezing your shoulder. He dares not to look down at you, as if he was afraid this wasn’t real. Ironic, coming from him. But, he couldn’t help it. Something he yearned for after so long, finally in his hands… Someone he had yearned for. Whiskey, however, is quite displeased with this show of affection, giving you a lethal side-eye, as if to say ‘how dare you show him love and not me.’ Such betrayal that you have shown Whiskey, choosing Gallagher over him.

#⁺◟freyito #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #gallagher x reader #hsr x you #honkai star rail x you #gallagher x you #gallagher hsr x you

46 notes · View notes

leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 6 hours ago

Text

SKZ DRABBLE-OT8

The one where finding how you fit is a little like a puzzle-the 100,000 piece kind, not the 100 piece kind. or The twenty-seventh installment of the SKZ!Pack Prequel series

Tags: Skz, Stray Kids, Stay, SKZ!Pack, Pack!Prequel, Skz!Pack Prequel, ABO, A/B/O, Omegaverse, Series, OT8, Bang Chan, Lee Minho, Seo Changbin, Hwang Hyunjin, Lee Felix, Han Jisung, Kim Seungmin, Yang Jeongin, Fluff, Angst, Skz imagines, Skz scenarios, FemReader

Genre: Light Angst, Fluff

A/N: I'm back! Sorry guys, I know it's been SOOOOO Long and yall have probably forgotten/given up on me, but I had to take a little sabbatical to keep my head above water in real life. But I've been here! Stalking and reading and checking comments and reblogs and messages. I love yall! <3 Thanks for being so patient with me!

Title: Call Me Anything at All, Just Don't Call Me Yours

“Dude, your fucking beta is killing me here.”

You glance up as Jisung joins the cafeteria table, plopping down between Changbinn and Hyunjin, clearly frustrated about something, his voice a plaintive whine.

Changbin’s brow creases in slight confusion. “My beta? What, you mean Seungmin?”

“Who else would I be fucking talking about?” Jisung grumbles, shooting a glare in the alpha’s direction, as he rips open the packet that contains his silverware with a little more force than necessary.

“You, technically.” Felix points out helpfully from further down the table, giving Jisung a slightly teasing grin.

“Yeah, ha ha, I’m killing myself, real funny, Lix.” Jisung mocks back, though his tone softens a little as he addresses the omega, because that’s just the effect Felix has on everyone.

Jisung turns back to Changbin, slapping his palms down on the table. “But seriously, he’s weird as shit. Hot and cold all the time, man. I don’t ever know where I stand with him-not really-kind of like with Minho-hyung.”

Beside you, Minho snorts softly. “Please, you’re always on thin fucking ice with me, Han Jisung. You know that.”

Jisung shoots Minho an annoyed look, but continues badgering Changbin. “You gotta tell me the secret to crack the code, hyung. One second, I think we’re friends, the next, the guy barely has two words to say to me.”

Changbin gives a slight shrug. “That’s just how Seungmin is.”

You nod in agreement. “Yeah, trust me, Sungie, Seungmin is a tough nut to crack. We’ve been friends for a long time-study partners for longer-and there’s still days I think he’d rather murder me than be sat across the table from me. He’s hard to read, he keeps his feelings close to his chest.”

“He’s also a slow mover.” Changbin points out. “Really takes his time to think things through, all the pros and cons, before he acts.”

Minho snorts again, not looking up from his food. “Maybe he’s deciding the cons list is longer than the pros when it comes to being packmates with you, Jisung.”

“Plus, he’s not all that affectionate. Skinship is kind of a struggle for him.” You remark thoughtfully, an observation you’ve had the longer you’ve gotten to be around Seungmin as a packmate, and not just a library buddy.

He really only lets Changbin touch him openly. Maybe it’s a side effect of the whole moonmate thing.

Biology.

Jisung takes a swig of his soda and considers for a moment, furrowing his brow. “Well, have you guys been-” He clears his throat, motioning slightly with his hands in a flapping motion toward Changbin. “-you know, intimate?”

You clear your throat at that, interjecting, trying to save Changbin the embarrassment of answering that question. “Intimacy can be a lot of things, Jisungie, you know, like when you and I and Seungmin showered together, or when Chan scents us, or trusting someone enough to talk to them about difficult subjects-” Hyunjin leans around the beta and stares directly at Changbin now. “No, he’s asking if you’ve fucked.”

Down the table, Chan chokes on his food, and Jeongin openly covers a cackle with a well timed cough.

Next to you, Minho mutters beneath his breath, “Jesus Christ.”

Changbin clears his throat hard, and you note the tips of his ears going a bright red. “Well, yeah.” He gives a shrug, as if it’s not a big deal, but the way his muscles stiffen tells you he’d rather be anywhere but here right now, talking about this.

“You don’t have to talk about this, Bin-” Chan starts softly, shooting Jisung a warning look that practically screams head alpha.

Changbin waves him off, and Chan’s hackles visibly relax a little.

“He likes you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Changbin assures Jisung, throwing an arm around his shoulders and ruffling his hair with a large hand. “All of you. He’s just a little more cautious when it comes to showing it. With me, there’s the weird biological pull of moonmates or whatever, but with the rest of you, you just gotta be patient. But he likes you. He’s told me.”

Jisung sighs, relaxing slightly at the alpha’s touch. “Fine. As long as there’s hope that one day we can fuck in your studio, I can live with that.”

Changbin removes his arm so quickly from around the beta’s shoulders that it’s like he’s been burned. “Please don’t do that.”

Jisung shoots him a wink. “No promises.”

“Apparently he’s into degradation in bed if that makes you feel any better.” Hyunjin remarks offhandedly, picking at his salad with his fork. “You probably couldn’t handle that anyway.”

Changbin chokes a little, glaring over Jisung’s head at the luna. “Hyun, you promised me when I told you that in confidence-” Changbin’s voice drops to a hiss. “-that you wouldn’t talk about it!”

Hyunjin gives a slight shrug, glancing around at everyone’s stunned reactions. “What? There’s no secrets in the pack right?”

Jisung’s jaw is on the floor.

“He what?”

“Oh my god.” Chan groans from down the table, fingers already kneading between his brows, staving off an oncoming headache. “This is not appropriate lunchroom conversation-”

“Okay, okay.” You wave your hands. “You’re gonna give Chan an aneurysm. Let’s table the kink talk for a more private time and location, okay?”

“Hah.” Jeongin snorts softly. “Table.”

Minho elbows him hard.

******

You’re watching Jisung practice something on his skateboard in front of the dorms-a kickflip maybe? You can’t remember what he called it-chin in hand, open textbook unread in your lap.

“Shit.” Jisung swears as the skateboard clatters away from him once more, and he sighs, tucking it under his arm and coming to sit down beside you on the cold concrete of the steps.

He bumps his shoulder into yours. “Why the long face?”

You glance sidelong at him, wrinkling your nose slightly. “I don’t have a long face. I’m just thinking.”

He arches a brow. “Okay, so what are you thinking so deeply about then?”

You sigh, running a few fingers over the page of the textbook in your lap, considering for a brief moment. “I was thinking about Seungmin.”

“Ah.” Jisung nods, tilting his head slightly. “What, about the fact that he’s into being called shit in bed? Because I for one did not see that coming.”

“No!” You say a little too quickly, cheeks heating even despite the cool nip of the air. “No.” You repeat, a little more levelly this time. “Just-about how I relate, to what you said. I never really know how he feels about things.”

Jisung leans back on his hands beside you, staring out at the campus for a moment. Finally, he says, “Yeah, he’s kind of a weird dude, huh? I mean, I know he’s into Changbin, but I don’t really know if he’s that into the whole idea of the pack.”

You glance sidelong at the beta sat beside you, and you note the way he bites his bottom lip, fingers drumming along the skateboard held in his lap.

“I was kind of excited to have another beta around.” Jisung admits a little softly with a sigh, glancing down at the chipped orange paint that adorns his nails currently, courtesy of Hyunjin. “I dunno, until I moved to university, I never really spent a lot of time around others like me. And it’s nice, the dorms and the friends, but there’s something about having a potential packmate who just gets it that’s comforting, you know?”

You nod, reaching out to put one of your gloved hands over his. “Yeah, I do. I know you’ve been through a lot, with the whole beta thing, and I was hopeful Seungmin could help you through some of the stuff you’re still dealing with.”

Jisung gives you a slight smile, but it’s tight and doesn’t quite reach his large dark eyes. “I don’t even know if the guy likes me, noona, or if he just puts up with my company because of Changbin.”

You sigh, glancing down at where your gloved fingers rest over Jisung’s chapped, red ones. “Well, at least he didn’t straight up tell you that he didn’t feel like that about you. That’s something.”

Jisung snorts. “That’s because I didn’t ask like you did.”

You swallow. “Yeah, well, I’m an idiot.” You huff out, glancing over at him and it’s your turn to give him the hint of a smile that doesn’t quite feel completely real or genuine. “I mean, I told him I loved him, and he didn’t say it back. So maybe his feelings really haven’t changed.”

Jisung gives a slight shrug, and then knocks his shoulder into yours once more. The smell of detergent is strong in your nose, as if his beta is subconsciously trying to put out pheromones to soothe your obviously agitated alpha.

“Hey. You said it yourself-the guy’s an enigma. We just gotta give him the time and space to figure it all out on his own.”

You sigh, long and hard. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Jisung leans his head on your shoulder, and you bury your nose into the soft knitted fabric of his beanie, breathing him in for a lingering moment.

He squeezes your fingers. “If it’s any consolation, I said it back, remember? And it’s still true.”

You give a little laugh at that, kissing the top of his head. “Yeah, I know. I love you too.”

You squeeze his fingers back in return, and then nudge the round, reddened apple of his cheek with your shoulder with a slight hint of a smile.

“Now c’mon, that kickflip of yours isn’t gonna learn itself.”

******

“I dunno, maybe I’m pushing too hard. Putting expectations on everyone that are unrealistic.”

Yeosang glances over at you, breaths coming in harsh little pants in the cold morning air, his hands on his hips as he walks a few loose circles around where you stretch.

“Betas are tricky. When Mingi joined the pack, I swear to god, the hyungs almost drove themselves crazy trying to figure out what he was thinking.”

He drops down beside you on the sidewalk, leaning over to stretch out one long arm along the line of his leg, before he switches to the other side effortlessly.

He’s barely panting from our run, skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat in the early morning rays of weak sunlight.

You blow out a breath, leaning your head back slightly to stare at the sky. “Jisung is losing his mind. He had this whole grand vision of what having another beta in the pack would mean, and Seungmin’s just-” You hesitate, considering for a moment, before you sigh again. “-not that.”

Yeosang’s gaze flicks over to me, and he makes a little sound of understanding under his breath. “Mm. Yeah, when we all study together, I can tell the kid’s a little harder to read than most. Even for a beta.” He shifts, coming to his feet again as he rolls his ankles a little, then his arms and his neck, glancing down at me. “But he seems nice. And he seems to be into Changbin, so that’s a plus.”

“That’s the thing though-” You admit, standing up too now, rolling your shoulders for a moment, before you tuck your earbuds back into your pocket. “-he likes Changbin, but does he like the rest of us?”

Yeosang moves to stand in front of you , reaching up to push some loose strands of hair back from your jaw with a long finger, chilled from the morning air. He gives you a slight smile. “Wolves aren’t solitary creatures, babe. You know that. And with how smart Seungmin is-and how obsessed with biology-he knows that too. Just give him some time to warm up. It’s probably overwhelming, especially for a seemingly solitary guy like him.”

You groan. “Fuck, you’re right, but do you have to be?”

Yeosang chuckles at that, moving to bump his shoulder into yours as you turn to follow the sidewalk back toward campus and the bus stop.

“Yes. It’s one of my many talents.”

You arch a brow at him. “Being right?”

Yeosang grins. “Never being wrong.”

You roll your eyes and elbow him in the side. “They’re the same thing, idiot.”

He laughs in response. “Trust me, they’re really not.” You walk in silence for a few moments, shoes scuffing the concrete, hands tucked into the pockets of your jackets, and then Yeosang asks, “Have you tried talking to him about all of this?”

You scoff a little, shaking your head. “No, because what the hell am I supposed to say?” You move to walk in front of him, taking backward steps as you face him, pitching your voice into something akin to a fake version of your own. “‘Hey, Seungmin, weird question, but like, are you into us? Also, just wondering, but have your feelings changed about me? Oh, and Jisung would really like to fuck you, but he’s nervous you don’t even really like him, and by the way, Changbin totally told everyone you like to be degraded in bed.’”

Yeosang’s eyes widen at that last part, his mouth dropping open slightly. “Wait, really?”

You wave him off. “Yeah, well, technically Changbin told Hyunjin, who told everyone else, but that’s beside the point.”

Yeosang whistles beneath his breath as we continue to walk. “Shit. Okay. Didn’t see that one coming, but good for him.”

His tone is laced with slight surprise still, but mostly just open admiration and appreciation.

You pull your phone from your pocket and glance at the time, groaning slightly. “Fuck. I have to go. I’m late for a lab and then I have a study session at the lib.”

Yeosang arches a brow at that, a slight smirk coming to his full lips. “Oh, with you know who?”

You stare him down, expression and voice deadpan. “No, I am not meeting Voldemort, The Dark Lord, for a study session, Sang. That’s just stupid.”

Yeosang rolls his dark eyes, reaching out to shove you, but you dodge the halfhearted attack easily.

“I’m talking about a certain beta.”

“I know that.” You retort back, rolling your own eyes now. “Besides, even if Voldemort went here, he’d never be in the sciences department. Probably like arts and humanities or something.”

“Or dance.” Yeosang points out thoughtfully.

His suddenly wide eyed gaze meets your own, his mouth in a small ‘o.’

“Minho.” You both say together.

Yeosang grins as you both laugh, reaching the bus stop. He bumps his shoulder into yours once more affectionately, as you separate to take different buses.

“Good luck with your study session, babe.” He points a stern finger in your direction. “Talk to him.”

You roll your eyes and wave him off. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll consider it. Say hi to Voldie for me when you pick up Hwa, will you?”

Yeosang’s grin widens as he gives you a little salute. “Will do.”

*****

“You’re staring again.” Seungmin comments without looking up from the page he’s working on, his pencil scratching rhythmically in the quiet of the library.

You clear your throat, dropping your eyes back to your own textbook. “What? No, I’m not-”

Seungmin sighs, shutting his notebook, and pushes his glasses up on top of his head as he angles to face you, expression unreadable.

“All right. Out with it.”

You’re taken off guard, glancing up at him in a slight panic, like a deer caught in headlights, eyes going wide as your mouth opens and closes a few times before you finally manage to choke out, “Out with what? I’m good. Fine even.”

Seungmin snorts at that. “You haven’t stopped rereading that same page for the last half an hour. And I’m pretty sure you’ve been studying me more than anything else.”

“Plus your scent is all wacked out.” He says with a slight wrinkle of his nose. “Even my limited faculties can tell that much.”

You sigh, glancing down at the open book in your lap before you close it and set it aside, tapping your pen along the table for a brief moment as you consider how to word what you want to say.

Finally, you get out softly, “Jisung is worried.”

Seungmin’s brow ticks up a bit at that. “About me?”

You give a slight shrug, not really looking at him, gaze on the pen flicking between your fingers. “I guess? He’s just worried because he doesn’t really know how you feel-” You glance at him then, and then away again. “-none of us do.”

The eyebrow goes up another notch. “How I feel? About what?”

You sigh, a slight sound of frustration now. “About everything? About him, about us, about the pack, about-” I throw a hand out. “-all of it.”

You tap the pen down a little harder than necessary to punctuate the end of your sentence. “In case you haven’t noticed-” You point out in a mutter beneath your breath. “-you’re not the easiest guy to get a read on.”

There is brief silence for a moment, and then Seungmin admits quietly, “Yeah, I know.”

You flick your gaze up to his then, and see a hint of vulnerability in the depths of his dark eyes before he reaches up and scrubs across his face with the palm of his hand.

“Look, (Y/N)-” He says on a sigh, and you tense up, preparing yourself for what he’s about to say next. Judging by the slight hint of burnt bitterness that now mars his orangey citrus scent, it’s probably not going to be what you want to hear.

Great, can’t wait to break the news to Jisung that the only other beta in the pack doesn’t even wanna be here.

Seungmin smooths his palms on the table in front of him, staring at the pages of notes scrawled in his messy handwriting. “I know there are expectations. I knew that coming in. I know Jisung has expectations especially, and from what he’s told me about his past and how his parents wanted an alpha for a son, and all the struggles he went through as a beta to try and fit in, I don’t blame him. But I-”

Seungmin gives a little shake of his head, and his gaze meets yours once more, lips pulled into the hint of a thin line. “I never went through anything like that. I was a beta, born into a family happy to be betas, and I never even thought twice about it. Never felt like I was somehow lacking, or less than, because it was all just biology. Nothing more. So I don’t really know how to-” He hesitates, seeming to struggle with his thoughts for a moment.

“-relate.” You finish for him softly, and he gives a slight jerk of a nod.

“Yeah.” He agrees. “But I’ve found I’ve had that problem all my life, not just with Jisung, not just with this, with everything.” He gives a tiny shake of his head, and a humorless sardonic smile curves his lips in the slightest way. “I don’t know how to relate to people. I never have. Maybe I’m missing some integral part of my own biology, because I know better than anyone that wolves are not loners, they’re pack oriented, but I’ve always always preferred to be alone. A lone wolf, I guess you’d say.”

You study him for a moment and then you say softly, “There’s nothing wrong with that, Seungmin.” He heaves a sigh and leans back, staring up at the ceiling above us. “I guess not, but I guess, what I’m trying to say is-” He glances at you, expression going flat. “-I don’t know how to let you all in to understand me, if I don’t even understand myself.”

Before you can second guess yourself, you reach out and cover one of his hands on the table with your own. “Hey.” When he looks at you, you give him the hint of a smile. “We’re all figuring this shit out, just the way you are.”

He blows out a breath through his nose, almost like a sardonic sort of laugh. “Yeah? Well, you guys seem to have shit pretty figured out from my viewpoint.”

You shake your head. “We don’t, trust me.” Your lips curve slightly as you stare at him, holding his gaze. “We’re a mess, we’re just pretty good at hiding it. Well, most of the time.”

Seungmin stares at you for a long, silent moment.

“I want to be what Jisung needs.” He finally admits, so softly it’s almost just a breath. “I want to be what Changbin wants. I want to be-” He blows another harsh breath out through his nose and drops your gaze. “-pack, but I’m just not sure where to begin. This is all new territory for me, and while I’m all about new discoveries in the scientific fields, my personal life is another matter entirely.”

You give a little laugh at that, and note that he hasn’t pulled his hand back from your touch yet.

That’s a good sign.

“You don’t have to have it all figured out today. Just one step at a time.” You encourage softly, leaning down so you can meet his ducked gaze. “You can do that, right?”

Seungmin sighs, but he nods anyway. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Good.” You sit back and blow out a breath, glancing down at your study materials spread out before you. “Now I don’t know about you, but I can’t study anymore tonight or I might go blind.”

Seungmin nods, surprisingly, and begins to pack up his materials.

After another brief moment of silence, he asks suddenly, “What about you?”

You shove another handful of pens and papers into your backpack without looking up. “What about me?”

Seungmin makes a noise that clearly signifies he thinks you’re being obtuse on purpose, and you can feel his annoyed stare burning holes in the side of your head.

“You know, don’t you wanna know how I feel about you? Now that I’ve had some time?”

You freeze, swallowing, and then force yourself to resume your previous activities of packing up and getting ready to leave.

“I mean, not really. I figure you’ll tell me that when you’re ready.”

Lies.

You wanna know so bad it’s driving yourself and your wolf crazy.

You busy yourself with lining up your highlighters back in their designated case, just so your antsy fingers have something to do.

“You know-” Seungmin states suddenly, voice even, tone neutral. “For a long time, I thought I was asexual.” Your eyes jerk up in surprise to meet his own, lips parting slightly.

“You don’t have to-”

He waves you off, pulling his glasses off his head and carefully folding them to stow in their case as he talks.

“No, it’s fine. I want to.” He glances to you then, a slight smile curving his lips. “I’m supposed to be pushing myself right? Opening up so you can get to know me better?”

You swallow and give a slight nod.

“You know, the whole lone wolf thing from before? I didn’t really ever feel the need to be involved with anyone like that. Didn’t think I needed it, felt complete without it. And then-” He sighs, and a slight flicker of annoyance crosses his pretty features. “I met Changbin.”

“Changbin.” You breathe in slight agreement, and your lips twitch upward a little at the other alpha’s name. “Yeah, he tends to have that effect on people.”

“Mm.” Seungmin nods in slight agreement. “So then, I thought, well, maybe it’s just biology, but maybe I don’t really want to be alone, not quite like that. But then I think-” He considers you for a long moment. “-I met you, and we became friends, and I liked your company, but then you asked me if I could ever like you like I liked Changbin.” You cringe slightly at that. “Oh god, can we just pretend that conversation never happened?”

“No.” Seungmin responds back immediately. He arches a brow. “It made me think you know. About myself. About what I wanted. It was good for me.”

“Glad to help.” You mumble back, your cheeks flushed slightly in an irritated sort of hot feeling blush.

“I considered that maybe, after you asked me that, that I was just into guys.” Seungmin admits in a softer sort of voice, but still matter of factly.

“Oh, so it’s my gender, got it.” You retort back, avoiding his gaze.

“No.” He shakes his head at that. “I think I’ve come to the conclusion that I don’t really care about gender, not in the long run of things. I think I’m more into people themselves, their personalities, and how they handle mine.” “Great, so it’s just my personality then.” You blurt out, throwing out your hands now.

“No.” Seungmin repeats a little bit more firmly, sharper. “You’re not listening to me.”

You give a little sharp laugh at that. “It’s really fucking hard to listen to you when we’ve been studying shit that turns my brain to mush for the last four hours.”

Seungmin’s hand covers your own, and you freeze, gaze flicking to him, mouth slightly agape, words instantly dying off.

“I-” He says firmly, taking in a sort of shaky breath, his fingers still resting a little bit awkwardly on top of your own. “-like you. You, (Y/N). I like the way you make me feel accepted, I like that you listen to my ramblings about scientific findings, I like that you don’t push me to go further than I’m comfortable, and I like that we started as friends first, and you’ve given me time and patience to explore where this could potentially go. At my own pace.”

You stare at him for another beat and then, “I’m sorry. If what I said in the shower made you uncomfortable.”

His lips curve slightly at that, his nose wrinkling with the hint of a smile. “It didn’t. In fact, it kind of surprised me that I liked hearing it. Just-” He blows out a breath. “-give me some time to figure out my shit okay?”

You nod, curling your fingers around his own. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Seungmin nods, and removing his hand from yours, begins to move to pack away the rest of his things. “Now c’mon, I promised Jisung we’d be in time to watch a movie with him.”

You grin, standing up and slinging your backpack over your shoulder. “It’s gonna be one of those cheesy action flicks he loves, you know that right?”

Seungmin sighs, but his voice is filled with affectionate amusement. “Yeah, I know.” He glances at you with a lift of his brow. “But anything for our boy, right?”

You grin back at him, knocking your arm into his as you walk. “Anything for our boy.”

As you walk down the stairs that lead out of the library, shoulder to shoulder, he slides his hand into yours.

44 notes · View notes