#now I will stare into the void for a while

[storiesfromafan]

Catching Feelings - Mattheo x Reader

A/N: not sure how I feel about this one, but I decided to post it anyways haha.

Prompt: “What part of I want you, and only you, do you not understand?” “And what part of why would you? Don’t you not understand?”

It had started out a casual hook up. Snog in a deserted hallway. Some over the clothing petting in the dungeons. Sneaking around in the Astronomy Tower for some no pants fun. It was great for you and Mattheo. The thrills and fun without the attachments a relationship entailed.

Well it had been great. Until Mattheo started to act weird, both with his words and wanting more time with you. Even when no pants time seemed to take a while to get too. He would make small talk, while you were the one to undo his tie and unbutton his shirt. And when he grasped your hands, halting what you were wanting to get too. That was it.

“Forget it" you sighed in frustration, grabbing your discarded cardigan before taking off back to the Slytherin common room.

He called out to stop you, tried to persuade you to stay. But it was no use, you were gone. And Mattheo sat there frustrated in more ways than one. For he physically wanted you, the evidence in his pants making it obvious. But he was also emotionally attached to you. Wanting to be around you, talk to you, hold you, kiss you. The guy was enthralled with you, bewitched mind and body. He wasn't quiet at soul, but part of him thought you were kindred spirits.

The following few days you avoided him. Keeping to yourself and always with a friend. And that was pissing Mattheo off. No to mention having this time to think clearly, Mattheo realised that what had been fun, looks to have turned into him liking you. And he now wasn't just mad with you, but also himself. For Mattheo Riddle doesn't catch feelings. He isn't meant to be a one girl kind of guy. Yet, he was willing to try it with you.

Getting a chance, though a sliver of one, you had just walked out of the female's lavatory. Grabbing your arm, Mattheo dragged you into a deserted hall, away from anyone or any noise. Once it sunk in to who had grabbed you, you yanked your arm from their hold.

“What the Hell Mattheo!?” You whispered yelled, glaring daggers at the male before you.

The male in questioned, did his best to look unfazed. Yet wondered if you had felt the sweat on his hands, or hear how his heart was racing. Could you see through his act? For he felt there were chips in the mask on his face.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” He asked with as flat a voice he could.

You looked at him for a moment, before sighing and crossing your arms over your chest. “Really? This is why you kidnapped me".

“I didn't kidnap you. I dragged you. You're free to leave anytime" he retorted with a soft glare.

“Fine" was all you said, moving to walk back the way you had come.

With two steps Mattheo moved to block you. Sputtering out a bunch of words that even he didn’t understand. But after he took a second to un-jumble his thoughts. Mattheo explained that he had only wanted to talk, and give him five minutes. You mulled it out before saying, alright I'll give you five minutes.

“Why have you been avoiding me (Y/N/N)? I waited in the Astronomy Tower the other night, but you didn't show up...” the last part came out a little whiny, which made Mattheo cringe.

Again you sighed. “I don't know...maybe I thought you'd want to talk" you replied dropping your bag on a bench, looking over the bust of some old witch.

“What's so wrong with talking...?” Mattheo asked quietly.

You shot him a are you serious look. “I thought this" – you gestured between you both – “was casual. In other words, no talking or attachment".

Mattheo straightened up, “well...ah, yeah?”

“Really?” You stared him down, not buying his words.

Mattheo sighed. He couldn't deny it further, could he?

“Look Mattheo, it's best we end it here. Cut our losses, yeah?” You finally said, voice void of emotion.

You grabbed your bag, slinging it over your shoulder. You walked past him and patted him on the back. Sharing some last parting words with the Slytherin male. When you were done, and no response from Mattheo, you began to head back to the populated halls.

As if being struck by lightening, Mattheo shot around, eyes wide watching your retreating form. “I like you!” He blurted out.

You paused, about to round the corner. You stood there for a minute, which had Mattheo thinking you may not have heard him. Finally you slowly turned around, eyes drawn together in confusion. Slowly you moved back to him, yet kept some distance between you both.

“Come again?” You finally croaked out.

Mattheo fidgeted from foot too foot, gaze looking anywhere but at you. He felt like a child that was in trouble. “I said...I like you...”

Slowly you nodded. “That's what I thought you said", you paused for a moment to think over your next lot of words carefully. “Look, Mattheo...I'm not the girl for you. I am uncaring, mouthy and too smart for the good of anyone”.

“That's fine with me" he replied quickly, staring you in the eyes.

You sighed. “Why would you? You can do better then me".

And with that you turned and began to walk off once more. Again Mattheo called out to you, sputtering out for you to stop or wait, and other things. But this time you didn't let up. Which lead to Mattheo being hot on your heels. Thankfully no students were around, but you could hear them in the distance.

“What part of I want you, and only you, do you not understand?” Mattheo called, anger rising when his attempts to get you to talk to him failed.

Finally you stopped, turning around to glare at the male. “And what part of why would you? Don’t you not understand?” was your retort.

The sound that came out of Mattheo's mouth was a cross between a cry of frustration and anguish of pain. Gripping his hair, he noted how you were so frustrating. Why wouldn’t you want him? Was there someone else you wanted to be with? If so, who, so he could take care of them. Was he ugly? Both physically and personality wise? His mind was swimming with questions.

“Mattheo...” you said softly, grabbing his attention. “This, you and me wouldn't work. And you know that. We're too different. Let's just...let it be".

When you got no response from Mattheo, you took that as your cue to leave. And off you went. While Mattheo stood there. Crushed, but determined. Determined to win you over. He believe part of you had to feel the same, or partially at least. Maybe you were scared, he liked to tell himself. Yes, that's what he was going with. And he would get you. No matter what or the cost.

[doumadono]

Warnings: pure angst, graphic descriptions of injuries, pregnancy mention, Dabi spiraling into madness while consumed entirely by his thirst for vengeance, a lot of sadness

Synopsis: after the Final War leaves Dabi on the brink of death, you remain by his side, pouring out your love and revealing the secret you never had the chance to share with him before

A/N: this fic was written as my contribution to the weekly challenge in @candycandy00 community ♥

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

The air around him was heavy with the scent of ash and smoke.

You stood there, watching as he flicked his fingers, a tiny blue flame flickering to life and dancing across his scarred skin. It illuminated the deep lines and cracks that marred his face, each one a story, each one a wound that had never healed. 

His hair was white now - ghostly, almost - and it only made the darkness in his eyes stand out more. He didn’t look at you. Instead, he stared at the flame as if it held all the answers, as if he could burn away everything that had brought him to this moment.

"Why does it always have to be this way?" your voice was trembling, and you were barely holding back the tears that threatened to spill. “Why does it have to be you?”

Dabi didn’t answer immediately. He tilted his head slightly, and the light from the flame cast eerie shadows across his face. Finally, he let out a low chuckle, one that held no joy, only bitterness. "You know why," he muttered, his tone void of any hope. "This was always how it was going to end."

You took a step closer, reaching out with trembling hands, desperate to touch him, to feel the warmth that had always been just out of reach. "You don’t have to do this," you whispered, almost pleading. "You don’t have to go. Please. I care about you. You can’t leave me behind like that.”

He finally turned around, his eyes meeting yours. The flame on his fingertip flared, and the moment was gone, replaced by the icy detachment he wore like a second skin. "And then what?" he asked, tilting his head, his voice barely more than a whisper. "What happens then? I walk away? Pretend these scars aren’t there? Pretend I can forgive? They took everything from me, and they’re going to pay for that."

“Touya…” You dared to use his real name, hoping, praying it would be enough to reach him, to make him stop this madness.

"Don’t," he snapped back. "Don’t call me that. He’s dead. He’s been dead for a long time." He took a step closer, and the heat emanating from his body was already suffocating, but you refused to move, refused to let him push you away. “I’m Dabi now. That’s all there is.”

“No,” you choked out, shaking your head furiously, tears finally spilling over, tracing paths down your flushed cheeks. “You’re more than that. You’ve always been more than that. I’ve seen it. I’ve seen you…”

“You’ve seen what I wanted you to see,” he interrupted. 

The dim light of the cave cast shadows that made him look monstrous, and yet, all you could see was the boy he used to be, the boy who had wanted to be a hero. “You can’t save me. No one can,” Dabi added, his voice a tone softer, and it broke your heart because it was the truth he had resigned himself to.

You reached for him, grabbing his wrist, ignoring the searing heat that pulsed beneath your fingers. “I don’t want to save you,” you whispered. “I just want you to stay. Just… stay.”

Dabi’s eyes softened, just for a moment, and you thought, maybe, maybe there was a chance. But then he smiled - a smile so broken, tired, and filled with a sorrow so deep it threatened to swallow you whole. “You deserve better than a monster covered in scars,” he murmured, and your heart shattered.

"I don’t want better," you said, voice shaking. "I want you, Dabi."

He leaned in, and for a heartbeat, you thought he might kiss you, but instead, he rested his forehead against yours. “I wish I could be that for you,” he breathed, his voice barely more than a ghost of a sound. “I really do.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, as if that would keep him here, as if that would stop him from slipping away. “Then stay.” You shot your hands to wrap them around his waist, and you stood there, holding him tightly.

But when you opened your eyes again, he had pulled away. He took a step back, then another, until there was nothing but shadows separating you. “Goodbye,” he uttered, and it wasn’t just a word - it was a death sentence, for both of you.

And as he walked away, the sound of his footsteps fading into the darkness, all you could do was stand there, surrounded by the cold emptiness he left behind, the echo of his final words burning hotter than any flame.

You stood frozen in front of the flickering television screen in your apartment, the world around you fading into nothingness as the battle raged on, as the flames you had once held so tenderly now roared and consumed everything in their wake. It was pure chaos - heroes and villains clashing in a storm of power and destruction, but all you could see was him.

Dabi stood at the center of it all, white hair whipping around his face like the ashes of a funeral pyre. His flames blazed with an intensity that seemed to consume the very air around him, radiating a brightness so fierce that, for a fleeting moment, he appeared almost ethereal - like a dying star caught in its last throes, desperate to leave a mark before being extinguished forever. But then you saw the pain etched into his features, the way his body trembled, the way his flames wavered, and it hit you all over again - how much he was hurting himself, how much this was costing him.

“Touya, please,” you whispered, voice cracking, as if he could hear you through the screen, as if your words could somehow reach him across the distance. “Please, stop.”

But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t, and you knew it well. You watched, heart splintering with every second that passed, as he unleashed everything he had against his family - the people who had made him, who had scarred him, who had broken him beyond repair. You watched as his flames collided with the ice of his mother and brothers, with the desperate defenses of his father, and all you could do was stand there, powerless to stop the destruction that unfolded.

Tears blurred your vision, and you sank to your knees, clutching at your chest as if you could somehow hold yourself together, as if you could somehow stop the pieces of your heart from crumbling to dust. “Please,” you sobbed, your voice a strangled whisper, “Please, don’t leave me…”

The news anchors were talking - describing the devastation, the violence, the destruction - but you couldn’t hear them. All you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat, pounding in your ears like a death knell, as you watched him burn to his demise, as you watched him fight and bleed and scream, and you felt it - the scars he left on your heart tearing wider, deeper, with every moment that passed.

And then, you saw it.

“No…” The word tore itself from your throat, and you didn’t even realize you were screaming, didn’t realize you were clawing at the screen as if you could somehow reach through it, as if you could somehow pull him back, keep him from slipping away. “No, no, no!”

His body lay still, the blue flames around him flickering weakly, as if they, too, were struggling to hold on. The camera zoomed in, capturing every agonizing detail, and you felt your heart constrict, a scream dying in your throat as you took in the full extent of his wounds.

His skin - what little remained - was cracked and charred, blackened to the bone in places where the flames had devoured him. The once-pale flesh hung in shreds, peeled back to reveal raw, bloodied muscle, and patches of bone that jutted out grotesquely. His right arm was gone, and he was reduced to little more than a skeleton covered with scraps of burnt tissue. Where the flesh had burned away entirely, you could see the tendons and ligaments clinging to his bones, frayed and broken, hanging on by threads.

His ribs, twisted and scorched, pressed against the paper-thin skin of his chest, the bones visible through what remained of the flesh that had once protected him. Each ragged breath he took caused them to rise and fall in sharp, jerky movements, and you could see how parts of the bone were cracked, splintered, as if they might snap with the slightest bit of pressure. His spine, scorched black, protruded from his back, the vertebrae exposed, skeletal.

His face was nearly unrecognizable, a twisted mask of agony and destruction. The skin around his mouth and eyes was entirely gone, leaving only the exposed muscles and tendons. His lips were cracked, blackened, and torn, revealing teeth that were stained red with blood. The left side of his face had burned down to the bone, the flames having stripped away everything, leaving behind nothing but a charred, skeletal visage that made him look more like a corpse than a man.

Blood seeped from countless wounds, dripping from him in a slow, steady stream, pooling beneath his ruined body. It mingled with the ash, the remnants of his own flesh, turning the ground around him into a grotesque, crimson mud. 

Yet still, somehow, his chest moved - barely, but it did - his lungs rattling with each shallow, ragged breath, fighting for every ounce of air as if he could refuse the darkness that threatened to swallow him whole.

The sight of him - broken, burned, reduced to this fragile state - was more than you could bear.

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but stare, paralyzed by the sight of him lying there, so small, so broken, and all you could think was, “I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there to stop him.”

You didn’t remember moving. One moment, you were on the floor, and the next, you were running, stumbling out of your apartment and into the chaos of the city, the smoke and screams and sirens drowning out the world around you. You didn’t care. You didn’t care about the danger, didn’t care about the warnings blaring from every television and radio and phone. All you knew was that he was out there, dying, and you had to reach him. You had to be there, if only to tell him that he wasn’t alone.

You reached the barricades, the line of heroes holding back the civilians, and you fought against them, desperate, frantic, screaming his name over and over until your voice gave out, until your throat was raw and bleeding, and still, you pushed forward. “Please,” you begged, clawing at them with all the strength you had left. “Please, I need to get there!”

“We can’t let you there, ma’am, the battle is still on and it’s dangerous…”

But you refused to listen, refused to believe it. You clawed your way past them, pushing a few people violently aside, slipping through the gaps, ignoring the shouts and hands that tried to hold you back, ignoring the pain that throbbed with every step, ignoring the scorching pain within your calves that seemed to slow you down to the point you were barely moving forward. All you knew was that you had to reach him. You had to see him, even if one last time.

And then you were there, standing over him, staring down at the body of the man you loved, and for a moment, the world fell silent. You collapsed to your knees beside him, your hands hovering over his broken form, afraid to touch him, afraid that he would crumble into ashes beneath your fingers. 

His family lay nearby, battered and broken, their bodies bearing the scars of the battle that had nearly consumed them all, just as it had consumed him.

“Touya,” you whispered, and his name felt like a blade slicing through you, sharp and unyielding. You reached out, brushing trembling fingers against the cracked, burned skin of his cheek, and it was so cold, so impossibly cold. 

There was no answer. There would probably never be an answer. As you cradled his head in your lap, the reality of his condition struck you like a blow. What you held wasn't the man you loved anymore - it was a skull, stripped of nearly all the flesh that had once made him human. The skin around his cheeks and jaw had burned away, leaving only the bare bone, cracked and blackened, exposed to the world. His eye sockets, once bright and full of life, now seemed hollow and lifeless, the remaining fragments of skin stretched tightly over his brow. Every part of him felt fragile, delicate, as if the slightest touch might cause him to crumble into dust in your hands. And still, you leaned down, pressing your forehead against his exposed skull, sobs wracking your body, as you whispered words of love and apology, hoping somehow, some part of him could still feel you. You whined silently when you felt the ragged, faint breath that still fought to escape his lungs, and you knew - these were the scars that would never heal, the wounds that would lead him straight to his demise.

And all you could do was hold him, whispering the words you had never been able to say before, hoping, praying that somehow, some way, he could still hear you. “I’m here,” you whispered, your voice breaking, “I’m here, Touya. I’m here, and you’re not alone.”

The hospital room was cold, sterile, and far too quiet. 

You stood there, barely able to breathe, as you took in the sight of him - the man you loved, the man who had burned so brightly, now trapped within the confines of a life support system. His body was completely bound, encased in a mass of wires, tubes, and bandages that covered every inch of him. He was barely recognizable, and the sight made your heart shatter all over again.

All that remained visible were his eyes and his jaw - the only parts of him restored after the destruction he had inflicted on himself, and everything and everyone around him. His eyes stared blankly ahead.

You took a tentative step forward, your hands trembling as you reached out to touch the glass that separated you from him. “Touya…” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. It was surreal, seeing him like this, as if the world had paused and left you in this agonizing limbo. “I’m here.”

The faint, rhythmic beeping of the machines was the only response you got, and it cut through you like a knife. You swallowed back the tears, your fingers pressing harder against the glass, as if you could somehow reach through it, as if you could somehow pull him back to you.

“They said you wouldn’t make it,” you joked nervously, your eyes never leaving his. “They said you were too far gone. But you fought, didn’t you? You fought, and you’re still here.”

His eyes shifted, focusing on you with a clarity that made your heart skip a beat. Slowly, painfully, you saw his jaw twitch, and then, in a voice so faint, so weak, you almost thought you were imagining it, he spoke. “Why are you still here?” His voice was barely a whisper, raspy and broken, but it was his. 

“I couldn’t leave you,” the words trembled out of your lips, thick with unshed tears. “I couldn’t let this be the end. Not like this.”

He tried to laugh, but it came out as a painful wheeze, his jaw tightening as he winced. “You shouldn’t have… I’m not… worth it.”

“How dare you?” you snapped, the words tearing from you with the force of a scream. “How dare you say that after everything? After everything we went through? How can you say you’re not worth it?!”

His eyes closed briefly, and when they opened again, they were filled with something you hadn’t seen in so long - something that looked like fear. “I ruined… everything.”

The words slipped out, fragile and trembling, as tears spilled over, leaving hot trails down your flushed cheeks. “You didn’t ruin what we had. You just… you got lost. But you’re still here. You’re still mine.”

He shook his head slightly, his breath coming in ragged gasps, and you could see the agony etched into every piece of his uncovered face. “I can’t be saved.”

“I’m not here to save you,” you remarked fiercely, pressing harder against the glass, as if you could somehow reach him. “I’m here because I love you. I’m here because I couldn’t walk away. And because…” You hesitated, your heart pounding, the weight of your secret threatening to crush you. “Because there’s something you need to know.”

His gaze sharpened, confusion flickering in those eyes you had loved so much, the eyes that had once been so full of life. “What is it?”

Swallowing hard, a trembling hand drifted to the curve of your abdomen as you forced the words out, each one a dagger plunging deeper into your heart. “I’m pregnant,” you confessed, voice quivering. “I found out right before you left. I tried to tell you, but you didn’t want to listen to me.”

The silence that followed was deafening, and for a moment, you thought he hadn’t heard, that your words hadn’t reached him. But then the steady beep of his heart rate monitor began to spike, echoing frantically in the small room as his pulse rose. And then you saw it - a tear slipping down his bandaged cheek, his mouth opening and closing, as if he were trying to speak but couldn’t find the words. “No…” he rasped, his voice shaking. “Why didn’t you tell me…?”

“Because you didn’t listen!” you cried, your voice breaking. “You wouldn’t stop! I tried to make you stay, but you were so consumed with your pain, fury and vengeance, and I couldn’t save you from that.”

“I failed you,” Touya whispered, his voice cracking, and it was the most vulnerable you had ever seen him, the man who had once stood unflinching before the world, now reduced to this broken, shattered soul. “I failed our family.”

“No,” you stated, shaking your head furiously, the glass cool against your forehead as you pressed closer, desperate to be near him, to make him understand. “You didn’t fail. You can still come back. You can still fight. For me. For us.”

“I’m too tired,” he burbled, and his eyes drifted closed, his chest rising and falling with the effort of breathing, each inhale a struggle, each exhale a battle. “I don’t want to hurt… anymore.”

You let out a broken sob, your shoulders shaking, your fingers splayed against the glass as if you could somehow hold him together, keep him from slipping away. “Then don’t,” you begged. “Don’t leave me, don’t leave us. Stay, Touya. Please, stay. I need you. Our baby needs you.”

His eyes flickered open one last time. “I love you,” Touya breathed, the words barely more than a breath, but they were there, they were real, and they seared themselves into your soul.

And then, just like that, his eyes closed, and his breathing evened out, and you were left standing there, holding onto the glass, holding onto him, as the machines continued their relentless, mechanical rhythm. He drifted off yet again. His body was so exhausted he could only speak for a couple minutes per day before reaching his limit.

And all you could do was choke out, “I love you too, Touya. We love you so much,”" although you recognized that he had succumbed to unconsciousness and was beyond the reach of your voice.

[justmeinadaze]

Nothings Gonna Change My World Part 2 (Steddie X You)(Zombie Apocalypse Universe)

A/N: The way I am having fun with this <3

I can absolutely go back to some of these universes and expand in separate series. Especially this one.

Please Enjoy!

Warnings: Steddie X Fem Reader, In universe Zombie Apocalypse survivors Steddie X Y/N, SMUT, dp, dirty talk, and things in-between, FLUFF, in the universe the relationship is already established and they love each other <3

ANGST! Obviously Zombies, Steve is the leader of a community and Eddie is an ex military sniper; mentions of military PTSD (brief) , mentions of Steve being abandoned by parents, mentions of readers sister Kallie being turned and Y/N guilt of that, Reader is kidnapped and the boys save her, mentions of blood, cliffhanger in universe, Eddie talks about his mother dying of cancer (brief), Steve talks about his asshole dad (brief), they ask again how her sister passed but she refuses to answer.

This chapter kinda delves into abandonment issues and fears of losing new people in your life so if that's a trigger fair warning! I have abandonment issues so I get it <3

Word Count: 6765

Chapter 1/Donate to Me <3

“Ok and how did you feel moving around?”

“Like a passenger I guess. It was very much like a movie or VR.”, you sigh as you lean back in your seat. 

You had been answering his questions for over two hours and quite frankly you were exhausted. After the experiment and now dealing with this asshole, you barely even had time to process what you saw. 

“Was anything similar to our universe? Or even your life in general?”

“My sister was still dead. That’s fun.”, you sass as his eyes scan you over. “Um, they seem forever regressed in a time period that has long since past even though my grandma always said the 90s were a blast.”

“Was anyone there you recognized? Family, past friends, relationships?”

Your gaze shifts as you avoid his eyes and prepare to do the thing you do best; lie.

“Um, my ex was there. In that universe, he cheated on me. In ours, he just left me.”

“I see… ok, and you said you just went to bar, listened to a band, went to a party, and then woke up?”

“Yup.”, you reply with an obnoxious pop on that last letter.

“Did anything stand out as odd or feel off?”

You got lost in the void as you ran through the universe you just experienced and couldn’t help but smile at the warm fuzzy feeling of safety that flowed through you when you were around Eddie and Steve. For the first time in years, nothing stood out or felt off.

“Y/N?”

‘Oh, um, no nothing.”

“Ok…ok. Go ahead and head back to the common area. We just served meals so eat, rest up, and we’ll talk again after the next session.”

***

The following day, you felt their eyes on you. Steve was always in a corner doing push-ups or working out in the gym that was provided while Eddie was either smoking or reading on the balcony outside of the sitting area. 

You planned to avoid them for the rest of the time but you were antsy as jitters ran through your hands desperate for a beer to calm your nerves. Stepping outside, you took a seat on one of the lawn chairs without looking his way. 

Before even saying a word, he extended his arm out with his pack in hand.

“Don’t get used to this. These things are fucking expensive in here but…” When all you do is stare, he shakes it finally willing you to take one of the sticks between your fingers and lighting the end. “It’s kind of amusing to me that there’s a universe with an Eddie Munson that doesn’t smoke. He had a point though. Because of my mom I shouldn’t be doing it myself yet here I am.”

Flashing a smirk your way, he visually takes this version of you in as you inhale the cigarette and blow out a big puff of smoke. Compared to the you in the alternate universe, you seemed a bit more rough around the edges. While you never answered Steve’s question about your class status, you did seem like you fit in both. 

You could pass for upper class like the other boy with how clean cut you were with that air of arrogance that screamed everyone was beneath you. But unlike them, you seemed exhausted like someone who had just completed their last leg of ten-mile race. You appeared sassy and confident but to him you also seemed…sad. 

“You said your name was Y/N? In the thing I mean.”, he clarified when your looked at him with confusion. “I’m Eddie. Well Edward but my friends call me Eddie.”

“I don’t care. You and I aren’t friends.”

“Excuse the fuck out of me, princess.”

Your eyes shift his way again at the term remembering him calling you that in the alternate universe and how comfortable he made you feel. 

“I’m sorry. I, uh, yeah my name is Y/N. Doctor dipshit said I had to be sober for this experiment so it’s been a week since I’ve had anything and it’s making me insane.”

“I know how that goes. After our experience I would love a beer.”, he chuckles making you grin as well. “So, uh, if I may how did it feel?”

“I’m sorry?”

“The doctor guy asked me what it felt like in the universe and I told him it was kind of surreal like I was seeing through someone else’s eyes but what was even more crazy was I could smell the smoke in the air at the party. I could practically feel the plastic from the controller when I was playing that game. I, um, I could feel your lips. I can still smell your perfume and cold air that was attached to you when Steve brought you inside.”

Jesus, he could string words together like a poet which you weren’t expecting at all. As he spoke, your brain replayed those four hours as your eyes took in Eddie who had turned in his chair to give you more of his attention. 

“Did you experience the same?”

“I did.”, Steve answers as he saunters around the corner and sits at the end of your lawn chair to light his own cigarette eliciting an eye roll from the other boy. 

“I wasn’t asking you, Harrington, but good to know.”

As the man inhales and exhales, he stares off into the distance towards the skyline. 

“I think that was genuinely the first time I felt happy…being on stage and playing that guitar… Then I saw you come in and I felt like I knew you.”

“Maybe in that universe we had passed by each other a few times before that night.”

Steve’s lips pout out as he shakes his head. 

“Naw, it didn’t feel that way. Did it feel like that for you?”

“No.”

“Just no?”

“Jesus Christ! What do you both want from me?!”

“A straight fucking answer maybe.”, Eddie responds as you rise from your chair and toss the cigarette over the edge of the building. 

“I don’t owe you anything especially an answer.”

As you start to head back inside the long-haired boy’s voice gives you pause. 

“I still don’t think less of you for anything you’ve done. That’s one thing that version of me and I have in common.”

“I don’t either but I do want to know more.”

***

That morning you dragged your sleepy form to the cafeteria to grab some coffee and took a seat at a random table…or so you thought. 

“Kinda starting to feel like you’re stalking me, sweetheart.”

“Jesus Christ.”, you sigh ignoring his breathy laugh as he continues to pick at the cereal in his bowl. “Why are you two even eating together? I thought you hated each other.”

“I mean, we’re going to be stuck together for a month. Might as well make the best of it.”, Steve shrugs as he sips from his own cup. 

You take in his comment as your gaze shifts to the void in front of you. You had numerous dreams about them and a couple about Kallie that were making you feel a bit lonely. You could have some casual conversation. What could it hurt?

“I felt safe with you both. It was an intense emotion but I knew I could trust you. Which is weird because I don’t trust anyone except my sister.”

“Kallie.” You nod at Eddie’s answer surprised he even remembered. “Do you have that tattoo?”

“Yeah and in the same place.”

“It’s interesting what stays the same. My dad is still an asshole, Eddie was still living with his uncle, and you still lost your sister.”, Steve theorized as he casually continues to drink. “I’m sorry, honey. Maybe this universe today will be different.”

“Honestly…I don’t know what I’d do if I saw her face again.”

“Ok, guys.”, the doctor shouts as he claps his hands to get everyone’s attention. “We’re very excited about the second test to see what happens. It seems we had some positive experiences when it came to the first universe. We’re hoping for the same in this regard. Please, if you don’t mind, gather your dishes and place them on the counter so we can start heading to the vessels.”

“Pfft, if you don’t mind. Like we have a choice.”, Eddie snickers as he takes note that his comment made you smirk as well. 

As you enter the experiment room, the three of you separate to go to your different pods where nurses do the same as they had before; making sure you were comfortable and getting your vitals.

“Alright, Y/N, ready for the pinch… Oh I know.”, she coos as you wince. “Dropping down in 3, 2, 1…”

######################

Everything was dark around you when you tried to open your eyes but couldn’t. The feeling of fear heavy in your heart as you listened to people whisper around you. 

“Do you really think she’ll help save us?”

“Yeah, I mean she’s a part of his group so once he comes for her we can use her to have Harrington provide us with a cure.”

“If he has the cure than why hasn’t he done it already?”

“I don’t fucking know! Maybe he’s selfish like his father.”

The sound of your whine gives them pause as you try to break the bonds tied around your wrists keeping you fastened to the chair underneath you. They were using you to get to one of the men you loved. 

If they’d remove the gag from your mouth you could tell them the truth; that he didn’t have a cure. If he had, he absolutely would have handed it over by now. You knew because you thought the same thing.

When you met him, you weren’t aware of what building you were in until you found him rummaging through his father’s desk. When you pulled your gun on him, he held up his palms in surrender insisting he wasn’t here to cause trouble. It took all your energy not to kill him right then and there but a red dot zeroed in on your chest forced you to pause.

The Harrington Virus was the reason your sister was taken from you, dying in your arms before she began to turn into a mindless flesh-eating corpse that you had to put down. 

He told you then about how his father’s company had created a viral weapon to sell to the military but it backfired and ended the world. His parents went into hiding and he spent the last two years looking for a cure feeling strongly it had to be somewhere within his father’s things. 

Over the last six months, you got to know him and his best friend he had been trying to survive with, falling in love with them and trying to help them save the world so to speak. 

While out on a routine supply run, someone took you and here you were.

“Did you hear that?”, one of the men asked cocking his gun as you hear footsteps echo away from you. 

Loud squelching noises make you jump as you prepare for the worst. Your body trembles in terror before the blindfold is removed from your eyes and you blink to adjust to the light around you.

“Everything’s ok, honey.”, Steve comforts as he takes the gag out of your mouth and begins untying you from the chair. Taking in your surroundings, both men who had kidnapped you were now dead with the man’s knife bloodied on the ground beside you. They had brought you to a warehouse of some kind but where you weren’t sure.

“Steve, you shouldn’t be here. They wanted you to come for me! We had a deal!”

“Yeah we did but I ignored it. We can fight about it later.”, he sasses as he grabs your hand and prepares to run before meeting another gun barrel in his face. “Tommy…good to see you again.”

The man growls as he hits Steve with the butt of his weapon and watches as he falls to the side. 

“Good to see you to, Harrington. How’s your dad?”

“I wouldn’t know. He disappeared and didn’t feel the need to take me with him.”, the boy winces as he tries to stand but is pushed back down. 

You step forward to help but Tommy turns the gun on you. 

“Don’t move, Y/N. How could you do this? How could you side with him after what happened to Kallie?!”

“Don’t you dare talk about my sister!”

“She would be so ashamed of you! You said you were going to kill him and yet somehow you managed to fuck him. The first time we saw you two together while scouting we thought maybe you were just trying to get on his good side. Come to find out, no, you actually fucking love him!”

You see the glint of light near the ceiling and your sigh in frustration at both men’s stubbornness. As you hold your palm in the air, Tommy scans you over trying to get a read on what you’re doing. 

“It’s not his fault, Tommy. I promise. These past 6 months we’ve been trying to track down Bill and any notes he had on a cure. We’ve come up with nothing.”

“That’s impossible! He can’t just fucking evaporate into thin fucking air, Y/N!”

“I know! But he will if you kill his son. If you kill him you’ll never have a chance!”

You see doubt flicker across his face for a split second before it hardens once more and raises his weapon in your direction. 

“I’m sorry.” Your voice cracks as you close your eyes and close your fist above you. The second your fingertips make contact with the bottom of your hand, you hear a soft whooshing sound followed by a bullet hitting flesh and when you open your eyes again Tommy is dead on the ground in front of you. “You two are idiots.”, you scold as you lean forward to help Steve to his feet right as Eddie slides into view slinging his sniper rifle over his shoulder.

“Are you alright?”, the long-haired boy asks with concern as his fingers caress the scrapes on your skin. 

“Yeah, come on. We have to go.”

The three of you run and skirt around the undead unseen back to the compound you called home.

***

“Ooooooow!”, Steve whines overdramatically as a girl pushes a bandage over the cut on his forehead. 

“Oh, don’t be such a baby.”, she teases as she lightly taps his forehead and turns to work on you. 

“I’m fine, Robin. Don’t waist the supplies.”

“I didn’t ask if you were fine, Y/N. I am designated nurse lady so let me at least look you over, please and thank you.”, she grins making you smile as well as you rolled your eyes. 

The year you and Kallie were with Tommy and his group, you rarely smiled. Everything you two did there was to find the Harringtons and find a cure especially after Tommy’s girlfriend got infected. There was very little time for play or fun and your sister hated it. She always talked about leaving the group and heading off towards the beach with your back to the water. 

You insisted on staying because you felt like you were close to the cure. Maybe if you had left Kallie would still be here…

When you joined Steve and Eddie at their base with the high school, everyone seemed so much more at ease. They worked together to get things done and made time to have fun which you didn’t realize you missed till your first night here. 

“Ok, do you think any more of them will come back?”, Wayne asked at the desk just outside of the nurse’s office. 

“I don’t know. Y/N always said Tommy was in charge so I guess it depends on who takes over and if they even want to bother.”, his nephew answers as they continue to look down at a map on the table. 

“Well, we’ll continue to keep an eye out and I suggest Steve and Y/N don’t leave this place alone for any reason until we can confirm.”

“Can I shoot them in the legs if they do?”, Eddie jests as his best friend pushes him to the side lightly.

You feel all eyes in the room watch you as you silently leave the area and head to your shared room with the guys. The best part about being in a school was each classroom was utilized as a different room. This particular hallway was for bedrooms but soon you would have to open another with the more people you let in. 

The generators kept the electricity running so you were able to have mini fridges and food in each area along with music and anything else you may need. 

“Ok, we can fight about it now if you want.”, Steve announces as they both come in and shut the door. 

Shaking off your jacket and tossing it aside you continue to ignore them as they do the same. Fashion was scarce in the apocalypse but goddamn did they look good. Steve always wore that brown leather military jacket he stole from a gun store nearby but depending on who he was meeting that day was what he wore underneath. For your rescue, jeans and a crisp black t-shirt with black running shoes were in order but if he was meeting a new member of the group or a group outside to do exchanges with he donned slacks and a button up shirt to look “presentable.” 

Eddie never cared as long as he was comfortable. When you guys went out scavenging, if he found a band shirt he enjoyed he brought it back home with him wearing one of those with a pair of jeans or sweats and always having his DIO vest over that which he had modified himself to hold his sniper bullets should he need them. 

Before you met them you knew about Eddie Munson but not enough to form an opinion. With Tommy, you had done research on Steve and he was flagged as an accomplice but deemed invaluable because there wasn’t much information on them together. When you and Kallie did stake outs, you saw them spend time together and watched him practice firing his weapon, surprised about how well he shot. 

After coming here, you learned that his uncle had been in the military before he came to live with him and took him out to a range to show him how to shoot. Eddie himself signed up for service and did a tour labeled as the best sniper marksman in his unit. He had planned on doing another tour but while on leave the world ended. 

Your eyes continue flick between them as Eddie leaned against the arm of the couch with his arms folded across his chest while Steve stood in front of you waiting for you to speak. Unable to find the words in that moment, you stepped forward and smacked him hard across the face.

“We had a deal. If anything ever happened to me; if I got kidnapped or was in a situation that was dangerous you would leave me behind because people on this earth and finding a cure was more important!”

“I made that deal for you but I’ve never liked it especially now.”

“Oh my God, Steve, you are so fucking selfish! We’ve come so close numerous times to finding an end to this! I’m just one person in a sea of others who need your help!”

“That’s how you see it. I don’t.”

“I don’t care! The world needs you!”

“The world may need me but I need you!”, he snaps, placing his hands on his hips as he exhales. “WE need you.”

“That’s…that’s not fair.”

“No, sweetheart. What’s not fair is making us choose. To us…you’re our world. We love you.”, Eddie adds softly as your eyes meet his. “Now, how about we stop pretending you’re sacrificing yourself for the world and be honest. You don’t want us coming to save you because you don’t want to be responsible for another death.”

“Even though we tell you time and time again that what happened with Kallie wasn’t your fault.”

Your jaw tightens as you glare at the wall. 

“I got stuck in that building. I should have been the one…”

“No, baby, no. Your sister made her choice because she loved you. What happened wasn’t because of you or her. It happened because my father was greedy and helped create a weapon without knowing anything about it.”

Tears started to fall but as they stepped forward, you hastily ran out of the room.

***

“Hey, Y/N. Can you go the library for me and grab me a book about infections? I’m trying to read up on alternative remedies for green things.”

“Gross and you can’t get this, Rob, because…?”

“Because I asked you to.”

Laughing and patting her shoulder, you got to your feet as you headed away from the group in the cafeteria to make your way for the library to get what she needed. Part of the reason you put up with Robin’s sass is because she reminded of Kallie; 90% attitude and sarcasm with a kind, genuine heart. 

As you opened the door music caught your attention as you stepped inside. 

“Miss Y/L/N.”, Eddie smiled as he gestured towards the table that had a candle lit in the middle surround by cafeteria trays of food in front of three seats. 

“I’m going to kill Robin.”

“Ah no you’re not.”, Steve teases as he takes your hand and guides you to your seat. “On our menu today, we have school lunch hamburgers with a side of fries and a can of soda Eddie brought back with him from his last supply run.”

“Aaaaaand…”, the long-haired boy sings as he reaches into his vest and pulls out the desert to display to you. “A chocolate cupcake.”

“Oh my god. What did I do to deserve this Michelin star meal?”, you joke with a smile.

“You’re you.”, Eddie grins as he reaches over to place his palm over yours. “And you went through a lot today. Not just with getting kidnapped but these were people you were with for over a year. They were family…”

“Kallie was family. You two…are my family.”, you sigh as you swallow the lump in your throat. “I’m sorry, I just—”

“Hey, no reason to apologize. You’re a stubborn hardass. We get that.”, Steve interrupts sarcastically, chuckling when you punch his arm. “If anyone gets that, honey, it’s us. I may help watch over those people out there but you both mean everything to me. I don’t know where I would be if…”

Your heart broke as you watched him shift into a memory he only spoke about a handful of times. When the virus broke out, he was at home but did what they rehearsed as a family and ran to his BMW to speed to the airport. His parent’s security stopped him as the helicopter flew over his head and neither of them even gave a cursory glance at their son as it flew away. 

The area became over run and all Steve could do was sprint as he tried to remain in one piece. He was cornered at the high school and right as he thought he was about to die; gun fire went off before a ringed hand reached from behind a gate and yanked him inside. 

Eddie had been with his uncle which he was thankful for as both men ran to the closest safe place they could find. Some of the nearby kids were hold up there and he did what he could to save them. Once it was cleared of the infected, he and Steve worked together to build their little community. 

“I’m sorry, baby.”

Flashing you a big smile, he reaches for your hand and kisses the back as you three eat your meal. When you’re finished, Eddie beams your way mischievously and presses something behind him before a new song lightly flows through the room. 

“Wise men say

Only fools, only fools rush in

Oh, but I, but I, I can't help falling in love with you.”

“You’re such a dork.”, you giggle as you take the hand he extends to you and guides you to your feet where you both lightly begin to sway. 

“Shall I stay?

Would it be, would it be a sin?

If I can't help falling in love with you.”

“I was terrified when you didn’t come back.”, Eddie murmurs above you as you lay your head against his chest. “I tried picturing you as one of those things and I just… it killed me. When Steve got Tommy’s letter, I was relieved you weren’t dead but I was so angry…I wanted to burn that whole place to ground.”

As your gaze shifts to look at his face, you realize his eyes are glazed over as he simmers in his fury. Even though the world had ended, Eddie still carried PTSD from the time before. While he was a decorated soldier, during his tour he saw a lot of things he carried with him that had you holding him at night as he cried from a nightmare. 

 Zombies were one thing but men coming after him with weapons and intent was another. 

“I love you, baby. I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.”

Blinking back into the moment, he softly smiles before kissing your forehead and spinning you into Steve’s awaiting arms. 

“Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Darling, so it goes

Some things, you know, are meant to be.”

“I don’t know what we’d do without you, honey. Jesus, wait until we tell our children we met their mom when she pointed a gun in my face.”, he chuckles as he playfully dips you. 

As your face falls, he wraps his arms tightly around you.

“Take my hand

Take my whole life too

For I can"t help falling in love with you.”

“We’re going to figure this out, Y/N. Whether it be a cure or a safe place in this chaos, we’ll get everything in order and start a family.”

Tilting your head back, his lips land softly on yours as his kisses slowly get more passionate. 

“Wait…what if someone…comes in here.”, you pant making him smile as his thumbs caress your cheek.

“I’ve booked this suite all night, baby. It’s just you, me, and Eddie till morning.”

After quick peck again, you fall to your knees and fumble with his belt as he removes his shirt above you. As soon as his cock springs free, your lips wrap around it as he places his hand on your head to guide you. 

“God, Y/N. That feels so fucking good.”

Reaching behind you, the long-haired boy laughs knowing what you’re looking for as he comes closer and pushes down his sweats. Both men groan and exhale heavily as your mouth switches between them while pumping your hand to spread your saliva along their shaft. 

“Come here, sweetheart.”, Eddie breathily instructions as he jumps up on to one of the tables and helps you out of your jeans and panties before guiding you till you were straddling his waist. 

After lifting off his own shirt, you couldn’t help but kiss along the scars on his chest like you always did as he petted your head. He had so many old wounds from battles he didn’t talk about; war, the apocalypse, his father when he was growing up. 

Eddie gave you the baseline of information. When his mother went missing he cried every day but his father didn’t care, hurting him over and over till he was arrested. One day overseas a bomb went off knocking him back and causing the little cuts on his stomach. Before he ran with Wayne, the trailer park was over run and he smashed out a car window to hot wire it so they could get away. 

Each scar had a different story but they made up the man he was and you loved every part of him. 

You felt safe with him; both of them.

“F-Fuck, princess.”, Eddie mewled as your gradually descended on to his length. 

Cupping your face in his hands, he tenderly trailed kisses from your forehead to your lips. 

Feeling Steve’s large palms on your ass, you lifted up to allow him more access as he carefully guided his own cock into your hole. 

You would never get used to the full feeling of them both inside you but just like out in the world, in the bedroom you felt safe. 

Between their bodies, nothing else mattered.

You could see the stars, heaven, and even the future. A future with no virus, smiling kids, and happy home filled with hope. No more nightmares or screams. Just peace. 

“Hey, hey. A-are you ok? Are we hurting you?”, Steve asked as Eddie whipped the tears that had begun to fall. 

“No…I just love you both… so much.”

Grinning they kiss a random part of your body as they begin thrusting into you again at a steady pace. 

“We love you to, baby. Mmph— everything’s ok.”

“We love you.”, Eddie repeated as his jaw fell open in a silent moan. “You feel so good.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you clung to him as they found a faster rhythm allowing their cocks to hit every sensitive spot inside of you roughly. 

“Cum, baby. You can do it, honey. That’s it.”, Steve coaxed as your body shook and the coil snapped. “Atta girl. That’s our beautiful girl. Shit.”, he grunted as his hips sloppily slammed his release into your behind.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Up, Y/N.”, Eddie lightly commanded but the other boy took the initiative, lifting you off his friend’s dick and allowing you to tilt over him as you bobbed your head, catching his release on your tongue as it spurts down your throat. “Mmph—good girl. Good girl.”

You giggle as Steve pulls you down the floor and you utilize his arm as a pillow while the long-haired boy hops down to snuggle you to his chest. 

“We got you one more thing.”

“Why?”, you blush as you listen to his strained groan while reaching for his bag above his head. 

“Because we love you. Unless you don’t want it. I can take it back to the store and—” His grin grows as you lightly smack his arm and Eddie chuckles behind you. 

As soon as everyone calms down, he produces a small diamond ring that has you smirking his way. 

“What’s that?”

“A ring.”

“For what?”

“For you.”, the other boy answers. “If you want it, that is.”

You can’t help but blink as you sit up and they follow. 

“I don’t understand.”

“Yes, you do.”, Steve replies way too calmly. He was definitely meant to be a leader. “You’re just scared.”

“I am not. What on earth do I have to be afraid of?”

“Besides the ever-present doom of the end of the world?”, Eddie jokes as he leans back on his palms. “Maybe losing us…like you did Kallie… Trust me, babe. I was a solider. I understand that fear better than most.”

“So do I. My parents abandoned me in the middle of all this.”, Steve gestures around him. “I watched them fly away while people around me were dying but, honey, you can’t live your life in fear…especially this one. We could be gone at any second and if anything happened to me than I’d want my last memories to be a full life with you and my best friend.”

After thinking for a moment, you casually take the ring from his hand and pretend to inspect it.

“I think when you give a girl something like this you’re supposed to ask her a specific question.”

They both laugh as they grab each one of your hands. 

“Honey, I’ve been love you since I met you. You’re smart, sweet, and so fucking beautiful. The first time I held you I knew I’d never let you go. Will you marry me?”

Cupping your cheek, Eddie turned you to face him. 

“I don’t trust many people but when I saw you running around that building trying to sneak up on Steve I knew you were special.”, he chuckles as you laugh at the memory. “I love your sarcasm and your strength and you motivate me to open my heart not just to you but people around me. You make me a better man, sweetheart. Will you marry me?”

Before you can answer, Dustin busts through the library doors as they pull a blanket over your lower half to cover you. 

“Henderson! Rude, man—”

“Steve, something… you need to come…now…”, the boy panted. 

Noting his genuine concern, both men pulled up their pants and began to follow. 

“Stay here.”

“That’s cute you think I’d listen to that.”, you answer his command sarcastically as you tug up your own jeans and push past them to see what’s going on. 

As you enter a hallway by the doors, you see Robin running around a woman on the floor trying to assess her wounds as she tries to catch her breath. 

“H-H-Harrington. I need…Harrington…”

When Steve steps through the crowd, her eyes widen as she forces herself off the floor and limps to him, collapsing in his arms as he catches her. 

“Y-Your father…I escaped…I found…help…”

“I don’t understand.”

Swallowing in frustration, she extends her palm and hands him a crumbled-up piece of paper. 

“C-C-Cure.”

His amber eyes widen as he twists his head to meet your own irises as your mouth falls open in shock behind the long-haired man who insisted on keeping you behind him to keep you safe.

The woman notices as her bottom lip trembles and extends her arm to reach for him. 

“Eddie?”, she whispers.

The man scans her over again before kneeling beside his friend to take her hand in his. 

“Mom?”, his voice cracks at the realization. “What…where have you—”

#########################

Muffled screaming is the first thing you hear as your eyes snap open and the pod door slowly slides out. 

“Everything’s alright, Miss Y/N, I’m going to—no! Please don’t do this again!”

You ignore the nurse as you swing your legs over and promptly go on the hunt for Eddie. That feeling you had in the universe was still heavy in your heart; that worry for him as soon as he knelt down. 

The people around you were crying and still trying to catch their bearings as nurses tried to calm them. 

“Zombies were everywhere! They had us cornered!”

“My wife was trying to kill me!”

“I swear I could feel their teeth!”

A hand suddenly intertwined with yours, tugging you forward out of the room and down the hallway. Steve’s head was on a swivel as he searched for the other boy but you couldn’t take your eyes off him as that air of confidence from the other universe still seemed to cling to him as that rush of safety washed over you. 

“Ed?”

At his soft worried tone, your gaze shifted as you both entered the dorms and saw the man before you pacing as his chest heaved in what looked like anger. 

“Everything’s ok, Munson.”

“Everything is NOT ok.”, he growled. “Did you see her, Steven? She was in so much pain and needed help… and why was she talking about your dad?!”

“I-I don’t know. That’s not me and even if it was that Steve felt just as confused—”

“BULLSHIT!”, Eddie screamed as he lurched toward him and shoved him against the wall. “My uncle and dad worked for your father’s company in this universe! If Bill did something to her in that other one…”

“Eddie, I swear on my life, I have no idea what my father does with his business but I’m sure he wouldn’t be responsible for what happened to your mother.”

“What did happen?”, you ask making the long-haired boy jump, forgetting you were even there.

“She died…cancer…what was odd though was she had no family history of it.”, he rumbled as his angry eyes focused on Steve’s. 

“So…this was the first time you saw here in a while…?”

The man’s voice shook as he answered your question. 

“Since I was six…”

“Eddie…I don’t know much about either of you in this world but so far in both Steve’s father has been an asshole who abandoned his son. 2 for 2 says a lot…which makes me think that in this universe here, it’s most likely the same.” Steve’s eyes flutter slightly at your assessment as the other man’s grip around him loosens. “Whatever Bill Harrington is involved in…I don’t think he’d have his son help or know about it and not because he doesn’t want him to get in trouble.”

“My dad has told me numerous times I’d never live up to our name.”, the man whispers. “I’m so sorry, Ed. I swear if I knew anything I’d tell you. I’d have told you a long time ago.”

Eddie snickers as he steps back. 

“When? When you were ignoring me or when your friends were calling me a freak? You always treated me like I was beneath you especially at school because only you rich pricks should have been there according to you. Us kids of employees should have been relegated to some cheap public school, remember?” Steve’s jaw tightens as his eyes flick to you before finding the boy’s again. “Which is why I don’t FUCKING UNDERSTAND why 2 for 2 you and I are friends and fucking THIS girl.”, he shouts as he gestures towards you. 

“Don’t look at me. I don’t get it either.”, you growl as you fold your arms defiantly.

“You HAVE to know us or even one of us.”, Steve insists. “You come from money right? Have I seen you or something at a party or a charity thing? Anything?”

“First off, fuck you. Second, I don’t come from money. My father’s side does.”

“Our private school has your last name.”

“No, it has my great grandfather’s last name. That doesn’t mean I know you.”

“Jesus, you’re really fucking stubborn.”

“I don’t know why you’re quizzing me! I’m just as confused as you! Look, I just came in here to make sure Eddie was ok and now I regret it. This is why I didn’t want to make friends or whatever.”

“Because they die or leave?”

Your eyes narrow towards the long-haired boy as you glare his way. 

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. In both universes, you talked about your sister and how you were afraid of us leaving you. Whether that be through judgement or death. In the first one your boyfriend cheated and then in this one your ‘family’ kidnapped and scolded you for your choice. Is it the same in this universe? Are you afraid if you make friends with anyone you’ll end up alone again?”

“Fuck you, Eddie.”

“What happened to Kallie?”

“None of your fucking business!”

As you start to walk away, Eddie grabs your arm to pull you back and in return you smack him. He doesn’t say a word as his grip on your bicep slides to your wrist and his head hangs.

“I’m sorry. You’re right…it’s none of our business. Just…seeing my mom and then feeling everything that other Eddie felt.”

“I understand.”, you sigh as you lean your forehead on his. “It lingers…the feelings…”

“We never got an answer.”, Steve murmurs causing you both to look his way. “We asked you to marry us. That Steve seemed confident and smooth but he was really fucking nervous to ask you that.”

“So was Eddie. He…you made him feel like he wasn’t just a robot who could wield a gun. You gave him hope. Hope for a future that he struggled to believe in.” 

As the feelings and their words overwhelmed you, you tried to leave again but his hand kept you in place and Steve came up behind you till his chest was against your back. 

“Please, don’t go.”

Eddie’s shoulders shook as he began to cry and as your arms wrapped around him, he rested his face into the nook of your neck as he clung to you, holding you tightly to his chest.

###################

@baileebear @jasminelafleur @twirls827 @dashingdeb16 @myherometalhead @starboygf @alba8688 @crybabyddl @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @utterlyinsanity @hardladyheart @yesimabratandwhataboutot @chelebelletx @season4steve @fic-lover-29

[ssentimentals]

seventeen members as love tropes: lee seokmin

first love

'when it comes to you, 'forever' sounds so sweet, so good'

there are some things that are just plain facts like earth being round, for example. there are some things that are not up for arguing like banana milk being the best milk. then there are some things that are true but it takes a while to learn them like how grass is not greener on the other side but where you water it. seokmin thought long and hard about it and in the end decided that his love for you is applicable to all three categories: it's both a fact, something that is not up for arguing and some thing that is true but took a while to learn.

and take a while it did. 'seokkie?' your head pops in, smile wide and eyes crinkled. 'sorry for bothering, just wanted to check in. is everything okay? you've been quiet whole dinner.'

seokmin blinks, focusing on you. he wasn't quiet whole dinner per say - he's been talking and engaging with everyone and to anyone who doesn't know him close he looked absolutely fine. but you are very close to him and of course you noticed slight tense posture, how smile didn't quite reach his eyes. seokmin's heartstrings tug at your attentiveness towards him; he smiles, telling you to come in. when you shuffle forward, he instantly envelops you in a big hug, moving you to lay side by side, finding this gesture oddly comforting. in fact, everything about you is oddly comforting - you remind seokmin of home, of that feeling when you're back in your own bed after being away for a long time. it's addictive and after so many years of knowing you and being your friend, he's sure that he doesn't have anyone closer to him than you.

'what is it, seokkie?' you ask in a whisper, turning your head to face him. your eyes are so expressive, seokmin never gets tired of just staring into them; right now they are filled with worry and gentleness that is so you, seokmin can't help but reach out and pinch your cheek cutely. 'hey! don't distract me mister, answer my question!'

'i don't really know,' seokmin answers truthfully. 'i guess i'm just scared of all these upcoming changes, you know? they feel so big, too big for all of us. i'm scared how they will change everything.'

i'm scared they will change you and me is on the tip of his tongue but he doesn't voice it out loud. he won't be able to let go, he knows it. if you go, this void in his chest won't be filled with anyone else, he knows it too. moving away is hard but it's even harder when he loves-

'whatever can happen will happen,' you say, staring at him seriously. 'but it will never change you and me.'

-you. he loves you. it's clear as a day to him when he now stares at you and this realization takes his breath away. and it's not like seokmin is dumb or oblivious - he definitely knew that his feelings for you bordered on something much, much bigger than simple 'like' or 'friendship'. it's more about how he never thought to give them a name and got so used to having them because they became a part of him, of who he is and whoa, isn't that a big and scary thought? that his feelings for you are literally part of his personality? it probably should be but it doesn't scare seokmin for a one bit. loving you, he realizes, is as easy as breathing.

'i don't want us to ever change,' he admits, trying not to choke on his feelings. 'i want it to always be you and me, together.'

he hopes you hear it. he hopes you understand what he's trying to say because he just learned that he loves you and it's a lot. your smile makes him smile back and when you nod, telling him that you two will always be together, he feels his heart beat faster. 'course, seokkie. i love you,' you say and you say it so easily that his breath hitches.

and if you can say it to easily then he can, too. 'i love you,' he voices out, trying out these words on his tongue. they feel good. 'i love you.'

there's a change in your eyes, like you start to get what he means. when seokmin leans in, you don't stop him or lean back. when he kisses you, you don't push him away or tell him to stop - you kiss him back.

and it's not something up for arguing either. because you are his first friend, his first girlfriend, his first love. seokmin dares anyone to tell him that first love is not real or that it won't last - he is here to prove everyone wrong with you. how can it not last, when you're looking at him with your sweet smile and he feels like earth goes around only because you exist?

and it is a plain fact - earth is round, sky is blue, seokmin loves you with everything in him.

a/n: huge thanks to @flipflopscrop for giving me idea for this one! hopefully you all like it <3 - nini

my seventeen works are here

my formula 1 works are here

[vampiredulac]

I just finished Season 2 and my heart has never been ripped apart and stepped on so many times

[dairyfreenugget]

(Going insane boinkinh one AU in my head)

Hey hey hey

May I interest you in

(Slowly slides my FaaF AU towards you but void just Disappears without a trace one day before the accolade)

Teehee

[considerad]

💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗 you know that post about creating community if that's what you crave?

I made an enormous pile of choc chip cookies and I batched it out for our upstairs and downstairs neighbours, my ma and my great-uncle across town, and my granddad's old pal and his family, and I just got done delivering them and I feel like 🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽

so alight and alive with it all!!!! I love people! I love them!!! I am so full of fruit and phone numbers I probably won't ever call!

Life can be so unbearably sweet ❤️

[femmefaggot]

wish we could still fight 👍

[abstractreign]

{ shout-out to @avefausa fjdjdmkdks

[local-magpie]

might fuck around and take a soak in the bath. i am technically live on discord but they dont have to know

[ilkitie]

Oh my fucking god the fucking Gummybear song from Spree has been playing on constant loop inside my head after watching the movie yesterday and honestly? Not feeling too ‘’ ✌️🙂 ‘’ about it atm. 

[d1stalker]

All of You, All of Me [Logan Howlett]

Summary: In a world of black and white, the only person who could bring colour to your life is the last one who'd want to.

Warnings: au where everything is black and white until you meet your soulmate, fem!reader, slow burn, angst, running away from feelings, pining, grovelinggg WC: 14.2k - MASTERLIST - A/N: help i'm sorry i didn't mean for it to get this long, but this fic is my baby

----

You've always cherished the idea of having a soulmate—someone who would love you unconditionally, waiting just for you as you them. The thought of finding that perfect match, the one who complements you in every way, is something you’ve always dreamed of. 

But as you get older, the hope you carry seems to dwindle more and more each year. Everyone around you has found their other half, reveling in the newfound ability to see colours in all their glory, and soaking up every moment of shared affection.

Everyone, except for you.

Your world remains a stark, colourless void, as if the universe is deliberately withholding the one thing you desire most.

And to make matters worse, despite not finding your soulmate, you are unequivocally, irrevocably in love with someone who has.

Logan Howlett.

You can’t remember a time where you didn’t feel anything toward him. His rugged, lone-wolf demeanor snuck its way deep into the crevices of your heart, and made itself a home there.

You and him formed an unlikely friendship, formed through the desire to fight back against all the people who’ve wronged mutants. Over the years, you had accepted the fact that while he wasn’t yours, at least you were alone together. Well, until she came.

Jean Grey.

She was strong, charming, and everything you felt you weren’t. It was no wonder her and Logan were meant to be together—the stoic, brooding mutant and his graceful, strong-willed counterpart. 

You remember the day it happened so vividly, it’s almost like you were the one who found their life partner. You and him had been walking around the mansion, when Charles had called you into his office to meet someone new. One look at their faces when they made eye contact and you knew you’d lost him.

It pained you to see them all over each other, all the time. Your once-regular walks in the garden became rare, then vanished entirely. On missions, he no longer looked out for you; his attention was consumed by protecting her. And as much as it hurt, you couldn’t deny they seemed perfect for each other—just as soulmates should be. You had no right to feel jealous.

Then, just as quickly as she had entered his life, she left it. 

The Pheonix was too strong, ripping her apart from the inside out. The pained scream he let out as not only his heart died, but as the world around him faded back into black and white, was forever ingrained into your memory. 

Logan was never the same after that.

 —

You trudge down the familiar halls of the mansion, your feet heavy with the weight of the day. It’s been long, filled with training sessions, team meetings, and a lot of paperwork. All you want to do is retreat to your room, lose yourself in a book, or maybe just sleep until the ache in your chest dulls.

As you walk, you hear faint commotion down the hallway—a low murmur of voices and the occasional clatter of something being moved. But you pay it no mind, too lost in your thoughts to care. Another mission, another discussion, another moment where you aren’t needed. It’s all so routine now.

Lost in your reverie, you don’t notice the figure walking toward you until it’s too late. You collide with a solid chest, the impact jolting you back to reality.

“Oh, sorry—” you begin, stepping back, but the words die on your lips as you look up.

It’s Logan.

Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, shock rippling through your body as you process his presence. And for a moment, neither of you speak. You just stand there, taking him in—the man who was once your closest friend, the man who was torn apart by grief and loss. His clothes are rumpled, his skin rougher than you remember, like he’s been through hell and back. 

You hadn’t seem him in a long time. After the devastation, he stopped talking to everyone. He holed himself up in his room for days at a time, only coming out in the dead of night to eat. Either that, or he was away on a mission–anything to stay distracted. 

But now, looking at him, there’s something different off. Something you can’t quite place your finger on. Did he always look like that? Maybe it’s the way the light above is reflecting off of him. Or maybe it’s—oh.

Looking around in surprise, you watch as the usually dark, stoic walls explode into a deep, rich shade. The carpet below you—no longer a mural of grey—radiates colors you can’t name. Your hands, his eyes, his hair-

You want to open your mouth and say something, anything, to the man who has caused your world to shift on its axis, but he’s already turned, walking away from you.

“Give me a fuckin’ break.”

----

Brown. Logan’s hair is brown.

After Logan leaves you paralyzed in the hallway, you run to your room, find the book on colors you had stashed in your bedside table, and throw open the cover. In it is a diagram that displays every known colour and their names. You learn that your favorite pair of pants are maroon, your bedsheets are navy green, and the X-Men suits are bright yellow and blue.

You stare at the page, each word blurring as your mind tries to process the impossible. Logan’s hair is brown. The thought keeps repeating in your head like a mantra, over and over again, until it becomes a steady thrum, drowning out everything else.

Brown.

You sit back on your bed, letting the book slip from your hands, the pages crumpling as it hits the floor.

Why him? Why me? Why now?

You begin to fidget, the adrenaline of the prior moment causing your heart to flail in your chest like crazy. You can’t stay here, you think to yourself. The idea of locked in your room with only your thoughts for company does not sound appealing. You need air, something to ground you, something to clear the haze clouding your head. Without thinking, you jump out of bed and find yourself heading up to the roof, the one place where you can breathe without feeling like the walls of the mansion closing in on you.

The trip up the stairs feels longer than ever before, each step heavy under the weight of your mind. It’s like every thought adds ten pounds. When you open the door, the cool night air hits you like a welcomed slap to the face, and you exhale deeply.

Walking to the edge, you lean against the railing. You’re in a daze - wondering if you made up the entire thing in your head. The only proof that you haven't, and that Logan being your soulmate is real, is the colours that coat the mansion’s grounds. The moonlight bathes everything in what you now know as a soft, silver glow, and for a moment, you just stand there, looking out into the distance.

It doesn’t make sense, and the more you try to wrap your head around it, the more tangled your thoughts become. You don’t want to face the possibility of what it could mean, but you can’t just brush it aside either. It has quite literally changed your entire life. 

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath in an attempt to quiet your racing mind. But when you open them again, you freeze.

Logan is standing at the other end of the roof, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the sky. He hasn’t noticed you yet, and for a split second, you consider turning back, retreating before he sees you. It would be a wise idea - he didn’t want to talk to you then, and he probably doesn’t want to talk to you now. But, it an act that can only be seen as your own body betraying you, you take a step forward. 

The sudden movement catches his attention, and his head snaps in your direction, his eyes locking onto yours. 

“Why are you here?” he asks accusingly.

You hesitate, unsure of how to answer. Seeing him out here was the last thing you had expected, and now that he’s in front of you, you are at a loss of words.

Logan’s eyes narrow, and he pushes off the wall, walking toward you. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I needed air,” you manage to say, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I just needed to clear my head.”

“Well, find somewhere else to do it,” he snaps, “I don’t want company.”

“Logan, I—”

“Don’t,” he interrupts, not even bothering to hear you out. “Don’t start. I know what you’re gonna say, and I don’t want to hear it.”

You blink, taken aback, and hurt at his coldness. “What are you talking about?”

He lets out a low, humourless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You think I don’t know what’s going on? God, I… this is all so fucking stupid.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you feel a flush of embarrassment rise to your cheeks. “I wasn’t—”

“Enough!” he barks, his voice echoing in the night. “I’m not interested, alright? Whatever it is you think is happening between us, it’s not real. It’s just some stupid trick of the universe, and I’m not playing along.”

His words hit you like a physical blow - like you’ve just been shot at right in the heart - and you have to bite your lip to keep from crying out. “I don’t understand. I didn’t mean for any of this—”

“Yeah, well, neither did I,” he snaps at you, “And I’m not gonna sit here and pretend like there’s something here,” he gestures between you two, “when there isn’t. You’re not mine, and I’m sure as hell not yours.”

The finality in his tone leaves you breathless, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. You have nothing to say back, he’s not giving you any slack. The reality of his rejection sinks in with a brutal, crushing weight, you have to put in effort to not stumble over. 

After a long moment, you finally collect yourself. Then, “Okay,” you whisper. “I understand.”

Logan’s expression doesn’t soften; if anything, it grows colder, more distant.

“Good. Then stay away from me.”

You nod, eyes filling with tears. You quickly turn your face away, not wanting him to see just how much he’s hurt you.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, barely audible. “I didn’t mean to make things worse for you.”

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t even acknowledge your apology. He just turns away, his back to you, effectively shutting you out.

You stand there for a long moment, watching him walk away for the second time that night. The colours that seemed so vibrant, so full of life just a moment ago, now feel like a cruel reminder of everything you could never have.

—

When you eventually return to your room, all you can do is lay in bed and stare up at the ceiling as your encounter with Logan on the roof replays in your mind on an endless loop, each harsh word he’d thrown at you cutting deeper than the last. It’s causes pain unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, pain that seems to have no end, no respite.

If he doesn’t want you in his life, you’ll accept that. You have to - it’s not like you have a choice. Soulmates are a two-way street.  

You can’t force him to feel something he doesn’t, can’t make him see you in a way he clearly never will. And you understand, don’t you? You can’t even imagine how difficult this would be for him. Losing your soulmate, and then the universe saying Fuck You and giving you another? 

You’ll never ever forget how wrecked he was when Jean died. How her death shattered him into pieces so small you weren’t–no–you’re still not sure he’ll ever be whole again. 

And you—where do you stand in the grand scheme of things? Just as the unfortunate recipient of a bond that neither of you asked for? Are you even allowed to be upset about this?

—

Waking up the next morning, you honestly wish you hadn’t. You knew you weren’t on good terms with Logan after his little rooftop showcase of emotions, but nothing could have prepared you for the way he starts to treat you.

His face is stuck in a perpetual scowl when you’re in his vicinity. He’s leaving every room the moment you enter, refusing to look at you, speak to you, or acknowledge your presence in any way. It’s as if you’ve become invisible, a ghost haunting the same halls you once shared with him. There’s only one thing you two seem to wordlessly agree on: don’t tell anyone. 

Each day following becomes a struggle, an unbearable test of your strength as you try to make it through without breaking. You begin to avoid Logan as much as he avoids you, but the mansion is only so big, and there are always moments when you catch sight of him in the distance, his broad shoulders hunched, his brooding face glaring daggers in your direction. 

It hurts you every time, an unending torture that leaves you stumbling. Still, you bite your tongue and keep moving, pretending you don’t care.

But you do care. You care more than you want to admit, more than you think is possible. Because despite everything—despite the rejection, the coldness, the anger—you still love him. 

And that’s the cruelest twist of all.

So you endure it, day after day, week after week, month after month. Letting it tear you apart piece by piece, because what else can you do? You carry this burden alone, just as you’ve carried your feelings for him all these years. And maybe one day, the pain will fade, the bond will weaken, and you’ll be able to move on.

—

The only person you tell is Charles.

“What’s on your mind, my child?” he asks one day, while you’re sweeping the dust in his office. 

You hesitate, your gaze dropping to your hands as you focus on cleaning. You know he’s just asking out of courtesy, and that he could easily crawl into your mind and figure it out himself. He probably wouldn’t even need to put in that much effort, given how loud your thoughts are. But still, you don’t yield to his probing.

“Nothing, really,” you mutter, forcing a small smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Just… tired, I guess.”

Charles watches you carefully, his eyes full of the warmth and compassion he always has, but this time, it makes you feel uncomfortable. Like he can see right through the facade you’re trying so hard to maintain, which you have no doubt, he does. 

“I’m here to help, whatever the burden.”

You want to groan. It’s not like he’s doing it on purpose but damn does it feel like he’s trying to guilt you into confessing that you just recently had your heart shattered. 

“I know, Professor. But… it’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“You forget, I worry about all of you,” he replies gently. “It’s in my nature.”

The chuckle that crawls out your throat is nothing short of bitter. “It’s just… complicated.”

“Complicated doesn’t mean you have to face it alone.”

You bite your lip, trying to keep the emotions at bay. Do you really want to explain to him the insurmountable suffering you’re in, the rejection you faced from the one person who is supposed to be your soulmate? How can you tell him that the bond the universe forged is the very thing tearing you apart?

“It’s just… I don’t know how to make sense of it, Professor,” you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Everything’s so… wrong.”

He leans forward slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “Wrong how?”

Knowing that you’re teetering into confession territory, you hesitate, needing time to collect your thoughts. 

“Logan… he… we… It’s not supposed to be like this, is it?” you eventually get out. Not your best work, but you know he’d get the gist. 

Understanding dawns in Charles’s eyes, and you can see the sympathy there, the quiet acceptance of the truth you’re struggling to voice. “The bond you share… it’s more than you expected, isn’t it?”

You nod, feeling the tears well up again. “But he doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want me.”

The professor sighs softly, and he looks at you like you’re a lost puppy. “Logan has been through so much, more than most could bear. His heart has been wounded in ways that are difficult to heal, and it’s not surprising that he would resist this new connection.”

“So why me?” you ask. “Why bind me to someone who will never love me?”

Leaning back in his chair, his fingers steepled thoughtfully, he says, “I wish I had an answer for you, my dear. The universe works in mysterious ways, ways that often defy our understanding. But I do know this: the bond you share is there for a reason. Whether it’s meant to bring you closer or to teach you something important… that remains to be seen.”

“It feels like a punishment,” you whisper, the tears finally spilling over. As much as you hate being put on the hot seat, you can admit that it feels good talking to someone about it.  “Every day, it hurts more. And he won’t even look at me. I don’t know how to make it stop.”

“The heartache you’re feeling is profound, but you must understand that it’s not your fault. Logan’s reaction isn’t a reflection of your worth, but of his own pain and fear.”

He reaches out, placing a comforting hand on your own before continuing.

“To love, even when it’s not returned, takes incredible courage. But you must also take care of yourself. Give Logan the space he needs, and in the meantime, allow yourself the grace to heal.”

So you do. In the days that follow your conversation with Charles, you make a promise to yourself—to try, really try, to focus on your own life, to reclaim the parts of yourself that have been overshadowed by the pain of this unrequited love.

The colours are still there, vivid and vibrant, and though they sometimes feel like a bittersweet reminder of what could never be, you find moments where they bring you joy. You marvel at the deep blue of the sky, the rich greens of the trees, the way the sunlight filters through the leaves and paints the world in golden hues. It’s like seeing the world anew, and in those moments, you allow yourself to feel happiness.

Moreover, you busy yourself, volunteering for every assignment that comes your way. The adrenaline, the focus, the purpose—they all help to drown out the pain, even if only temporarily. And when you return from each mission, tired but satisfied, you feel a little more like yourself again.

The mansion, too, becomes less of a prison and more of a home once more. You start spending more time with the others, rejoining them for meals, for training sessions, for movie nights. 

You laugh with Rogue, spar with Scott, and even find yourself engaging in playful banter with Remy. It’s not perfect, and there are still moments where you catch yourself faltering, when the weight of everything threatens to pull you under, but those moments are becoming fewer and farther between.

You’re healing, slowly but surely, and with each passing day, you feel a little stronger, a little more in control of your life—of your emotions. 

But then there are the times when you cross paths with Logan, and those moments are the hardest.

One evening, after returning from a particularly grueling mission, you find yourself heading toward the kitchen, your mind on the sandwich you plan to make. The place is quiet, most of the team out on various assignments, or finishing up on some work, and you relish the peace as you walk down the corridor.

However, just as you reach the kitchen door and push it open, you find Logan standing there, preparing to exit the room at the exact same moment. Your heart lurches, and you stop dead in your tracks, almost like a deer caught in headlights. 

His gaze meets yours, and all you can see is his impassive, stoic expression. He steps back, giving you space to enter, but the tension between you is palpable.

“Sorry,” you mumble, stepping to the side, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

Logan doesn’t say anything, barely nodding—if you could even it that— before brushing past you, his shoulder grazing yours. The brief contact sends a jolt through your system, and you have to force yourself to stay still and not physically react. 

Once he leaves, you let out a shaky breath, your heart still racing from the encounter. It’s been so long since you’ve been this close to him—so long since you’ve seen the deep brown of his hair that you love so much. You hate this. 

Why does he have no reaction to at all? Why is it only you who seems to care? 

Because you are the only one who does care.

You move into the kitchen, still intent on eating, but it’s a challenge. Your hands are trembling.

—

It all comes to a head one night during dinner. In this rare occasion, both you and Logan are in the same room. You’re supposed to be celebrating Rogue and Gambit’s anniversary, and even though you insisted that they share this special moment together alone, they didn’t take no for an answer. 

That’s how you find yourself, sitting at the grand dining table with all your friends, and Logan. 

He’s across from you. Just your luck.

He refuses to spare you a single glance, his eyes staying busy the whole night. And while it’s been months and months of this, you have never gotten used to it. Still, you can’t help but sneak a few looks at that chocolate-coloured hair. Brown. 

Everything seems to be going smoothly, the food is delicious and the dessert even better, but when Gambit presents Rogue with a giant painting, that’s when you slip up. 

“I love how you blended the red with the blue!” You compliment, loving the way he managed to create the perfect contrast between shades. You’re too caught up in staring at the artwork to realize the table as gone deathly quiet, all eyes on you.

Rogue's expression is one of gentle confusion, her head tilted slightly as she tries to make sense of your words. “Darling, I thought you couldn’t see colour?”

In any other situation, you’re sure the team would have laughed at how comically large your eyes got, and how all the blood draining from your face makes you look like a gaping fish, but in this moment, nothing is funny. You can feel Logan’s eyes on you, and when you finally muster the courage to glance at him, you see that his all-too familiar glare you’ve been subject to for the last half-year. It makes your heart thud painfully in your chest

“I…” you begin, but you falter. Your mind is going through a thousand thoughts per minute, searching for an excuse you can use to deflect, to pretend it was just a mistake, but the silence is too heavy, too demanding.

Rogue’s confusion deepens, her gaze flickering between you and Logan, who is now staring at you with an expression that’s impossible to read. She starts to say something, but Remy gently places a hand on her arm, shaking his head slightly as if to tell her to let you speak. 

Logan’s gaze stays locked on you for a moment longer. Then, without a word, he pushes his chair back, the legs scraping harshly against the floor. The sound echoes in the silence, and before you can react, he stands up and walks out of the room, his movements stiff, almost mechanical.

The door closes behind him with a quiet click, and the tension in the room thickens. You feel a rush of embarrassment flood through you, your heart sinking as the reality of what just happened crashes over you. 

You lower your head, your eyes stinging with tears that you fight desperately to hold back. But it’s no use. The emotions you’ve been trying to keep buried for so long bubble to the surface, and before you can stop yourself, the tears start to fall. 

“I think I need a moment,” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling as you stand up from the table. Without waiting for a response, you hastily excuse yourself and head for the door, not before mumbling a quick apology to the couple in which you were there for.

Soon you find yourself outside in the gardens, the nightly breeze hitting your face as you make your way to a secluded bench. You can’t even appreciate the beauty in what you see, because all you feel is the overwhelming sense of failure and sadness that threatens to swallow you whole.

Sitting down heavily on the bench, you bury your face in your hands and let go. The sobs come hard and fast, each one ripping through you with a force that leaves you breathless. You’re heartbroken and angry and absolutely over it, but at the same time you feel like a massive asshole because who are you to be upset with a man who’s mourning the loss of a soulmate? 

It’s not fair.

You don’t know how long you sit there, lost in your grief, but eventually, you hear the sound of footsteps approaching. You look up, wiping at your eyes, and see Scott walking toward you.

“Mind if I join you?” he asks gently.

You shake your head, unable to find your voice, and Scott sits down beside you on the bench. 

“I’m sorry,” you croak, “I didn’t mean to ruin the night.”

Scott clicks his tongue in disagreement, his gaze focused on the gardens ahead. “You didn’t ruin anything. It’s clear you’ve been carrying this burden for a long time. It’s no wonder it slipped out tonight.”

“So everyone knows now?” you ask. He nods.

“It wasn’t hard to put two and two together,” he concludes, and you groan, bringing your hands to your face.

“I just… I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want to be pitied.”

“Pity isn’t what anyone feels right now,” Scott says softly. “We’re worried about you. You’ve been hurting, and we didn’t see it. That’s on us.”

“It’s not your fault,” you bring your hands down from your face. “I’ve been trying to deal with it on my own. I thought I could handle it, but… clearly I was wrong”

With a serious expression, Scott turns to look at you. “I know what you’re going through, more than you might realize.”

You glance at him, surprised by his words. “You do?”

He nods, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I was in love with Jean, remember? When her and Logan found out they were soulmates… it tore me apart. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to move on, and for a long time, I couldn’t.”

The mention of Jean’s name brings a fresh wave of emotion crashing over you, but there’s also a strange comfort in knowing that Scott understands your pain. “How did you… how did you get through it?”

He sighs, “It wasn’t easy. It took a long time, and I had to accept it.”

You wipe at your eyes again, sniffling as you try to compose yourself. “I’ve been thinking about leaving for a while. Taking a longer mission, just to get away for a bit. Maybe then I can figure out how to move on.”

He is quiet for a moment, considering your words. “If that’s what you need to do, I understand,” he says, “sometimes, a change of scenery can help. Though I think you should try to talk to Logan again.”

Letting out a bitter laugh, you shake your head. “I don’t know if he’ll even listen to me. He’s made it pretty clear how he feels.”

“He’s hurting too,” He decides, “He’s not handling it well, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. You both need closure, and running away won’t give you that.”

“What if it just makes things worse?”

“It might.” Scott places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “But it might also give you both the chance to start healing. You deserve that chance.”

You nod slowly, letting the weight of his words sink in. “I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

“Take the time you need,” he says. “We’re all here for you.”

“Thanks, Scott. That means a lot.” You offer him a small, grateful smile.

With a final nod, he turns and walks back toward the mansion, leaving you once again alone in the quiet of the gardens. You take a deep breath, the idea of leaving still tugs at you, but now, there’s also the thought of confronting Logan—of finding some kind of closure, whatever that might mean.

You really don’t want to do it, and you’re pretty sure it’s just going to end the same way it did last time - with him shutting you out. But Scott’s words echo in your mind, reminding you that healing often requires confrontation, not avoidance.

Goddamn it.

You huff as you stand up from where you’re seated. You can’t keep running from this, can’t keep letting him run from this. You need to talk to Logan, to lay everything out on the table, even if it tears you apart in the process.

Your anxiety builds with each step as you approach his room, and you pause outside his door, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure he could hear it if he was listening. This is it. There’s no turning back now. With a shaky breath, you finally raise your hand and knock. 

There’s a long, agonizing pause, making you strain to hear any movement on the other side. For a second, the silence causes you think he might not answer, that he might just ignore you like he’s done so many times before. But then, you hear the faint sound of footsteps approaching the door. Your heart catches in your throat as it slowly opens, revealing Logan standing there, his expression hard and unreadable.

The moment he realizes it’s you, his eyes darken, and he immediately moves to close the door, shutting you out yet again. However, you’re not letting him get away that easily. Before the door can fully close, you stick your foot out, blocking it with more force than you intended.

“C’mon, Logan,” you press. “You know we need to talk.”

He freezes, his grip on the door tightening until his knuckles turn white. His jaw clenches and unclenches, nostrils flaring. He still doesn’t look at you, his gaze fixed on some distant point as if he can will you away if he tries hard enough. But he doesn’t push the door shut either. The room is thick with suspense, both of you standing there in a silent standoff.

Finally, with a low growl of frustration, Logan steps back, opening the door just a smidge wider, barely enough for you to squeeze through. It’s a reluctant invitation, but it’s all you need.

“Fine,” he mutters, his voice rough, edged with irritation. “Talk.”

You step into the room, and he closes the door behind you, lingering close to it, as if he’s ready to bolt at any second. You feel vulnerable and exposed. It’s suddenly hard to gather your thoughts when he’s standing so close, when the heat of his presence and the distance he’s placed between is right in your face.

“Why did you come?” Logan questions. He still refuses to look directly at you, his gaze fixed somewhere over your shoulder.

“Because we can’t keep pretending this isn’t happening,” you reply, “We need to talk about what’s going on between us.”

His jaw tightens further, and his teeth grind with barely contained frustration. He finally looks at you, his eyes hard and defensive. “There’s nothing to say,” he says bitterly. “I told you how I feel. I thought that was enough.”

“It’s not enough!” you shoot back, your own frustration bubbling to the surface. “You think you can just push me away, pretend like this bond doesn’t exist, and that’s supposed to solve everything? It doesn’t work like that, Logan.”

He flinches slightly at your words, but his keeps his expression hard. “Well what do you want me to say?” he demands, his voice rising. “That I’m sorry? That I didn’t mean to hurt you? Because I am, and I didn’t. But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t be what you want me to be.”

His words hurt. 

“I know you told me how you feel,” you start, “but you’ve never let me tell you how I feel. You’ve never given me the chance to say that it’s been tearing me apart.”

A flash of guilt. “I didn’t think… I didn’t think you needed to say it. I already knew.”

“That isn’t fair,” you argue.

“You don’t understand,” he counters, “I lost Jean. I loved her, and when she died, it broke something in me. And now… now I’m supposed to just… move on? With you? It’s not that simple.”

“I never asked you to love me, Logan,” you say, your voice trembling with the intensity of your emotions. “I never pushed for anything more than friendship—it’s not like you gave me the chance! You’ve been shutting me out, ignoring me, making me feel like I’m nothing more than a burden, like I don’t even matter!”

You can see that the pain in your voice hitting him hard, but he doesn’t apologize. Instead, he looks away, his expression conflicted. “I’m trying to protect you,” he mutters, the words sounding hollow even to him

“Protect me?” you echo incredulously. “All you’re doing is make me feel like shit. Like I’m worthless. I can’t even be your friend, to help you through this.”

You pause. “You expect us all to know how you’re feeling, but you can’t even communicate it.”

Logan winces, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, filled with a torment you’ve never seen before. He opens his mouth to say something, but the words seem to get caught in his throat. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he breaks the silence, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I can’t be what you want me to be,” he admits, his tone filled with a deep, aching sadness. “I don’t know how to let you in. Without her, I feel like… I can’t let anyone in.”

Your eyes soften a fraction his confession, but there’s also a deep frustration that burns inside you, a frustration born of months of pain and rejection. 

“You haven’t even tried,” you say softly with a quiet resignation, “You haven’t even tried to let me in, to see what we could have been, even if it was just as friends.”

What follows is a long, nagging silence. You let it linger, giving Logan the chance he needs to think of something to say. But there’s no answer, no promise that things will change, and then you realize, with a sinking feeling, that he’s not going to take that step, too broken to try.

That’s when it really hits you. 

Whatever you were fighting for, was a losing battle from the start. 

You give up.

This time, it is you who turns your back on him. 

“Goodbye, Logan. Take care of yourself.”

You don’t wait for a response. You don’t glance back. You walk out of the room, the door closing softly behind you, and with it, the last remnants of hope you had for something more.

— 

You decide to go on the mission.

It’s nothing complicated. Your task is to survey different regions of Europe, ensuring that there are no burgeoning anti-mutant operations threatening the safety of anyone. The primary goal is gathering information, and quiet observation. No violence, Charles told you in the debrief. 

The lack of immediate danger doesn’t make leaving any easier, though. This is as much about finding yourself as it is about fulfilling your duty.

Rogue and Kitty are with you during your final preparations, helping you pack the essentials and offering support in their own ways. They don’t ask many questions, probably sensing that this decision was not just made on a whim. And for that, you’re grateful.

“I still think you’re crazy for going solo,” Rogue says with a half-smile as she zips up your bag. “But if anyone can handle it, it’s you.”

You manage a small smile in return. “Thanks, Rogue. I just need some time…”

Kitty, who’s been quietly folding clothes and tucking them into your bag, looks up, seriousness clouding her gaze.  “We get it. Just promise you’ll keep in touch, okay? And don’t hesitate to call if you need backup.”

“I promise,” you assure.

She hesitates for a moment before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small device—the X-Men communicator gadget. She holds it out to you, and you reach your hand out. 

“Here,” she says softly, pressing the device into your hand. “This is so you can update us on your whereabouts, your status, or any important mission details. Even if you don’t need anything, just… let us know you’re okay, alright?”

You look down at the communicator in your hand, and close your fingers around it, nodding as you meet Kitty’s gaze. 

“Alright, I’ll check in regularly. I won’t leave you guys in the dark.”

Rogue finishes the last bit of organization. “You’ve got this,” she says, “And we’ve got your back, even from a distance.” You nod, appreciating their support more than you can express. 

It almost feels like a walk of shame—leaving the mansion. Everyone knows why too, and that makes it a thousand times worse. But you won’t let it get to you. With one last look, you get in your car and begin on the windy path to the airport. 

—

When you arrive in Europe, the first thing that strikes you is the sheer beauty of the landscape. Each city, each town, has its own unique charm, its own story to tell. The bustling uphill streets of Porto, the serene canals of Venice, the ancient ruins of Athens—they all offer a distraction from the turmoil inside you.

The only good part about this whole mess is that you can see colour, and truly appreciate the sights before you.

You move from one place to the next, blending in with the crowds, quietly observing, gathering information, and sending brief updates to the team through the communicator Kitty gave you. Every message is short, to the point, just enough to let them know you’re safe and on track. You don’t share much beyond the essentials, not wanting to burden them with your personal struggles.

Then, in a small café in Rome, you meet a man named Marco. He’s a traveler like you, exploring Europe with a curiosity that matches your own. He’s warm, easygoing, and before long, the two of you strike up a conversation over coffee.

He is charming in a way that makes you feel at ease, his laughter infectious as he shares stories of his travels. You don’t tell him much about yourself, keeping the details of your mission and your mutant abilities hidden. To him, you’re just another traveler, searching for something—though he doesn’t pry into what that something is.

As the days pass, you and Marco continue to cross paths, and it’s nice to have someone to talk to, someone who doesn’t know about your past, about the things you’re running from. With him, you can be anyone, and for the first time in a long while, you start to feel a little lighter. You find yourself laughing more, the weight on your chest lifting a little each day. You don’t talk about the mission, and you certainly don’t talk about Logan.

One evening, as you’re both sitting on the steps of the Spanish Steps in Rome, watching the sunset, he turns to you with a grin. “So, where are you off to next?”

You hesitate, not wanting to reveal too much, but then you smile. “I’m heading to Florence. There are some places I need to check out.”

His eyes light up. “Florence? I’ve been meaning to re-visit. Mind if I tag along?”

A part of you wants to say no, to keep the distance you’ve carefully maintained, but another part—the part that’s been lonely for so long—nods in agreement. “Sure, why not?”

—

Back at the mansion, things haven’t been as positive. The once lively atmosphere has dimmed, replaced by an uneasy tension that lingers in the halls. The X-Men carry on with their duties, but there’s a noticeable shift—a missing piece that everyone feels but no one talks about. Logan, in particular, has become even more withdrawn, if that’s possible. The man who was once brooding and distant now seems even more so, his mood volatile and unpredictable.

His behavior has become a source of concern for the team. He’s always been rough around the edges, but now, it’s like the slightest thing can set him off. He snaps at everyone, his temper flaring at the smallest provocation. On missions, he’s reckless, throwing himself into danger without a second thought, as if he’s trying to outrun something—or someone. 

In many evenings, Logan finds himself in the mansion’s gym, trying to work off the restless energy that’s been plaguing him for months. The room is always empty, save for him, the steady rhythm of his fists pounding against the punching bag being the only sound. Sweat drips down his face, his muscles straining as he channels all his frustration and anger into each punch. Yet, no matter how hard he hits, he can’t seem to shake the thoughts of you that have been haunting him.

This night, door to the gym creaks open, and Logan doesn’t need to look up to know who it is. He can sense the other man’s presence, feel the weight of his gaze as he steps inside. He doesn’t slow his punches, doesn’t acknowledge Scott’s presence, but he knows why he’s here. They’ve had this conversation before—or something like it—but nothing’s changed. Nothing’s gotten better.

Scott watches him for a moment, his expression unreadable. He’s been watching Logan spiral for weeks now, but he’s kept his distance, knowing that he’d only be pushed away. But this can’t go on—Logan can’t keep doing this, can’t keep tearing himself apart over something he refuses to confront.

“She wouldn’t want this,” he finally says, voice cutting through the steady thud of Logan’s fists against the bag.

Logan’s movements falter for just a second before he resumes, his jaw tightening. “Who?” he growls, not bothering to turn around. “Her or Jean?”

Scott doesn’t flinch at the harshness in the other man’s tone. He steps closer, his eyes steady on their target as he answers, “Both.”

Finally, Logan stops. His fists still as he leans against the bag, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His shoulders are tense, the weight of Scott’s words pressing down on him like a physical burden. He doesn’t want to hear this, doesn’t want to be reminded of what he’s lost—of who he’s lost. 

Taking a step closer, Scott’s voice is firm. “Look, I’m not a spiritual person. But I also don’t think the universe messed up with this.”

Clenching, his fists, Logan knows what the other man is getting at, but he doesn’t want to acknowledge it. Doesn’t want to think about what could have been, what he’s been too scared to even consider.

“I know you know how I felt about Jean,” Scott says quietly, knowing he’s breaching a sensitive subject. “Losing her… it killed me too. And if I had been given a chance—a real chance to be with her, to make things right—I would have taken it. No hesitation.”

Logan’s breath hitches at that. The truth is, he’s been running—running from you, from the bond you share, from the possibility of something real. 

“I’m not saying you should chase after her,” he continues. “But I am saying that you need to stop running from her. The universe doesn’t just throw things like this at us for no reason. And you know that.”

The weight of Scott’s words settle over Logan like a shroud. He knows the other man is right—deep down, he’s always known. But that doesn’t make it any easier. The fear, the guilt, the pain of losing Jean—it’s all still there, gnawing at him, holding him back. 

There’s something else too, something he’s been trying to ignore but can’t any longer: the way he feels about you, the way he’s always felt, even if he couldn’t admit it to himself. One of the first thought’s that ran through his head when his world re-erupted into colour was that, had this happened before Jean, maybe it could have worked. Maybe he could have been what you wanted, felt something real.

Scott takes a step back, giving Logan the space he needs. “Just think about it,” he says softly. “Think about what you really want. And don’t wait until it’s too late to figure it out.”

Logan doesn’t respond, but Scott doesn’t need him to. He’s said what he needed to say, and now it’s up to him to decide what comes next. With a final look, Scott turns and leaves the gym, the door closing softly behind him.

The clawed mutant stands there for a long time, his fists still clenched, his mind racing. He knows he can’t keep doing this—can’t keep tearing himself apart over something he can’t change, something he’s too afraid to confront.

But change is terrifying, especially when it means facing the truth. The truth that maybe, just maybe, the bond he shares with you is something worth fighting for. Something that Jean wouldn’t want him to throw away.

With a deep, shuddering breath, Logan finally lets his fists unclench, the tension in his body slowly ebbing away. He doesn’t have all the answers—hell, he barely knows where to start—but he knows one thing for sure: he's can’t run away anymore. Not from this, not from you.

—

You’ve now spent days in Florence, wandering through the Uffizi Gallery, marveling at the works of the Renaissance masters, and evenings enjoying the quiet serenity of the Arno River. With you, Marco. You’ve grown to trust him. He’s never made you uncomfortable, never had any intentions to take advantage of you, and knows all the best restaurants. 

But there’s always been a small, nagging doubt that you’ve pushed aside—a feeling that something isn’t quite right. You’ve ignored it, convincing yourself that you’re just being paranoid after everything you’ve been through. After all, he has been nothing but kind, always knowing the right thing to say, always showing up just when you need someone.

It isn’t until the two of you are exploring a quieter part of Florence, that the doubt flares into something more. You’re walking through an old, narrow alleyway, the kind that tourists rarely venture into, when Marco suggests you take a shortcut through a small, unmarked door in the side of a building.

“I found this place the last time I was here,” Marco says, his smile as easy as ever. “It’s a hidden gem, leads right to a beautiful courtyard. You’ll love it.”

You hesitate, something in his tone—or maybe it’s the way his eyes gleam just a little too brightly—sets off alarm bells in your mind. You’ve come to trust him though, haven’t you? You’ve traveled together for weeks, shared countless stories and laughs. Surely, he wouldn’t lead you into danger.

Still, as you step through the door, the darkened space beyond immediately feels wrong. The air is colder, damp, and the walls are lined with strange, unidentifiable equipment. You glance back at Marco, and that’s when you see it—the change in his expression. The warmth is gone, replaced by something cold and calculating.

Before you can react, you feel a sharp prick in your arm. Your vision blurs, and your body goes numb almost instantly. You stumble back, trying to push away, but your legs give out, and you collapse to the floor.

Marco looms over you, the smile gone from his face, replaced by a look of triumph. “Did you really think I didn’t know?” he sneers, his voice dripping with disdain. “You’re a mutant, and you thought you could hide it from me?”

The world around you spins as the drug takes full effect, but you force your mind to stay focused. “What… why?” you manage to whisper, the betrayal cutting deep.

“Why?” He laughs, the sound harsh and devoid of any warmth. “Because mutants like you are worth a fortune. My clients pay top dollar for… research subjects. And you, my dear, are about to make me very, very rich.”

You try to move, to fight back, but your body refuses to respond. Panic rises in your chest as he kneels beside you, pulling out a small device that looks like a portable scanner. He runs it over you, and it emits a low hum as it registers your vital signs, confirming what he already knows. You’re weak. 

“You won’t get away with this,” you say.

“Oh, but I already have,” he replies with cruel satisfaction. “No one knows where you are. And even if they did, it’ll be too late by the time they find you.”

With the last bit of strength you can muster, you reach into your pocket, fingers trembling as you fumble with the X-Men communicator that Kitty gave you. His attention is momentarily distracted as he prepares a syringe filled with a clear liquid, and you seize the opportunity. You manage to pull out the communicator, your fingers barely able to grip it. Then, with a deep breath, you press the SOS button, the screen flashing to life.

You type in the message as quickly as you can, your vision blurring even more as the drug takes hold. 

Location: Florence. 

Message: Help.

Just as you hit send, Marco notices what you’re doing. His eyes widen in anger, and he grabs your wrist, yanking the communicator out of your hand. “You little—!” he snarls, but it’s too late. The message has already been sent.

His face contorts in rage as he slams the gadget against the ground, smashing it to pieces. He glares down at you, his hand tightening painfully around your wrist. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you? But it doesn’t matter. They’ll never get here in time.”

Your strength is nearly gone, the drug pulling you into unconsciousness, but you manage one last defiant look. “You won’t win,” you whisper with the last of your energy.

Marco releases your wrist with a sneer, standing up and looking down at you with contempt again. “We’ll see about that,” he mutters before turning away, leaving you on the cold, hard floor as darkness overtakes you. 

You can only hope they—that Logan—will reach you in time.

—

The signal comes through during a meeting. A sudden, loud beep cuts through the room,  and everyone freezes, their attention immediately drawn to the source of the sound. To Kitty’s pocket. It’s the X-Men communicator, the one linked to your device. 

Logan’s head snaps up, his eyes narrowing as he recognizes the tone. He’s on his feet before anyone else can react, his heart pounding in his chest. “What the hell was that?” he demands, his voice tense with urgency.

Kitty quickly pulls it out of her pocket, her eyes widening as she reads the message that’s flashed across the screen. Her face pales, and she looks up at the others, her voice trembling as she speaks. “It’s from her… Florence… Help.”

There’s a brief pause, maybe a second long in length, and then the room erupts into a flurry of movement. 

Chairs scrape against the floor as the team rises to their feet, already preparing for action. But Logan is the first to react, his face a mask of fury and determination. “I’m going,” he growls, already heading for the door.

“Logan, wait!” Scott steps forward, blocking Logan’s path with a firm hand on his chest. 

“Get out of my way, Summers,” He snarls, his voice filled with barely controlled rage. “I’m not waiting around while she’s in danger.”

“We can’t just rush in without a plan,” Scott insists, trying to keep his own emotions in check. “We need to know what we’re dealing with.”

Logan shoves the other mutant’s hand away, his eyes blazing with anger. “She sent an SOS, Scott! She needs help, and we’re wasting time standing here talking about it!”

The rest of the team watches the confrontation with anxious eyes, knowing that things could easily escalate. Logan’s been on edge for weeks, and the urgency of the situation—of you— has pushed him to the brink. 

“Logan,” Ororo interjects, “We understand how you feel, but we need to think this through. If this is a trap—”

“I don’t give a damn if it’s a trap!” He snaps, his voice rising. “She’s part of our team! We can’t just leave her there!”

“That’s not what we’re saying,” Scott tries to reason, but Logan isn’t having it.

“Then what the hell are you sayin’?” He demands, his frustration boiling over. “Why are we wasting time when we should be getting her out of there?”

There’s a brief, uncomfortable silence, and then it’s Rogue who steps forward, conflicted. “Logan… what if… what if she doesn’t want to see you?”

He freezes, the words hitting him harder than any physical blow could. He stares at Rogue, disbelief and anger warring in his eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he growls.

Rogue swallows, her eyes filled with worry. “She left because she needed time, Logan. Because things between you two… they weren’t good. Maybe she—maybe she doesn’t want you to be the one to save her.”

Clenching his hands into fists, his body is taut with tension. “Fuck that!” he roars with a fierce, protective rage. “She’s part of our team! She sent that message to us, to the X-Men, because she needs our help. I don’t care what’s happened between us, I’m not leavin’ her there!”

The room falls silent, the weight of Logan’s words settling over everyone. They know Logan is right—she’s part of the team, and they can’t leave her behind. But they also know that the situation is more complicated than that.

Scott takes a deep breath, his gaze steady as he looks at Logan. “We’re not saying we shouldn’t go after her, Logan. We’re saying that you need to be prepared for whatever we might find when we get there. She might be in a bad place, and she might not be ready to face you.”

“I don’t care,” he says after a brief pause, his voice quieter now, but no less determined. “I’m going to get her out of there. Whether she wants to see me or not, I’m not lettin’ her go through this alone.”

Scott studies Logan for a long moment, then finally nods. “Alright. But we do this together, as a team.”

Logan nods, his jaw set in a grim line. “Fine. Let’s go.”

—

Your eyes snap open, the dim light of the room piercing your vision. You’re in a large, abandoned warehouse. Your head feels heavy, like it’s filled with cotton, and there’s a dull, throbbing pain at the base of your skull. As you try to move, you realize with a jolt of fear that you’re restrained, your arms and legs strapped tightly to a chair. Panic flares in your chest, and you struggle against the bonds, but they don’t budge.

And then you see him—Marco, standing a few feet away, watching you with a smirk that sends a chill down your spine. His eyes gleam with satisfaction, and you realize with horror that you’ve been caught, trapped in whatever twisted game he’s been playing.

“Ah, you’re awake,” he says, voice dripping with mock concern. “I was starting to wonder if I’d given you too much of the sedative. But it seems you’re tougher than I thought.”

You try to respond, but a gag in your mouth muffles your words, turning them into incoherent sounds. You glare at him your eyes burning with fury.

He only chuckles, clearly amused by your resistance. “Oh, don’t bother trying to speak. We wouldn’t want you calling for help, now would we? Though, I must say, I’m impressed you managed to send that little SOS before I caught on. Clever, but ultimately futile.”

He steps closer, his eyes narrowing as he looks you over, his expression turning cold. “You know, I’ve dealt with a lot of mutants in my time, but there’s something special about you. Something… unique.” He reaches out and grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Too bad your powers won’t do you any good here. The drug I gave you should keep you nice and powerless for the foreseeable future.”

Straining against the bonds, you continue to try to break free, but he drug in your system dulls your abilities, leaving you feeling weak and vulnerable. All you can do is stare at him with hatred as he continues to taunt you.

“Such fire in your eyes,” Marco murmurs, almost to himself. “It’s a shame you’ll never see the light of day again. But don’t worry—I’ll make sure your abilities are put to good use.”

He lets go of your chin, his hand trailing down to your shoulder in a way that makes your skin crawl. “Now, let’s see what we can do to make you a little more… compliant.”

Just as he reaches into his coat pocket, presumably for another syringe, a sudden, loud crash echoes through the warehouse. The sound of splintering wood and shattering glass fills the air, followed by the unmistakable hum of energy blasts and the heavy thud of boots on the concrete floor.

The X-Men have arrived.

Marco’s eyes widen in surprise and then narrow in anger. He spins around, barking orders at the security guards scattered throughout the warehouse. “Stop them! Don’t let them get near her!”

The guards rush forward, weapons drawn, but they’re no match for your friends. The familiar sounds of battle flood your ears—Rogue’s powerful punches, Scott’s optic blasts, and Storm’s lightning crackling through the air. You struggle against your restraints again, desperate to free yourself, but it’s no use. 

Then, you catch a glimpse of Logan. He’s fighting his way toward you, his claws out, slicing through anyone who gets in his way. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, your eyes meet his, and you can see the raw determination in his gaze. He’s coming for you.

But just as he takes a step forward, something changes. He hesitates. You can’t hear what he’s thinking, but you can see the conflict on his face—the way he seems to second-guess himself, the way his steps falter. Your heart sinks as you realize he’s unsure, almost as if he's torn between wanting to save you and fearing that you don’t want him to.

In that split second of hesitation, Rogue swoops in, landing beside you with a determined look on her face. She doesn’t waste any time, using her strength to tear through the restraints that bind you. “We’ve got you, sugah,” she says, her voice steady and reassuring as she pulls the gag from your mouth. “You’re safe now.”

You nod, your throat too dry and your body too weak to speak. Your muscles scream in protest as you try to stand, but she quickly wraps an arm around you, helping you to your feet. You’re shaky, your body still reeling from the effects of the drug, but you’re free. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Logan still standing there, his eyes locked on you, his expression unreadable. He wanted to save you. He wanted to be the one to pull you out of that nightmare, but something held him back.

Rogue helps you toward the exit as the rest of the team continues to subdue the guards and Marco. You lean heavily on her, your legs barely able to support your weight, but you force yourself to keep moving. 

And when everyone else has back in the jet, hugging you and comforting you, you look over to Logan, who sits far away, on the opposite side, refusing to meet your gaze. 

—

Returning to the mansion feels like stepping back into a familiar, comforting embrace. You missed the soft, warm bed in your room, the quiet serenity of the gardens, and the comforting presence of your friends. It's been a few days since the whole ordeal in Florence, and the drug has finally worked its way out of your system. Your strength has returned, and physically, you feel like yourself again. The mansion, too, seems unchanged—still the safe haven you’ve always known.

But as the days pass, you begin to notice that while many things have returned to normal, some things have not. You’ve seen most of your friends, their faces lighting up when they see you, their hugs tight and full of relief. There have been quiet conversations and laughter, shared meals in the kitchen, and moments that remind you why this place is home.

Except, there’s one person you haven’t seen. Logan.

His absence is like a shadow that follows you wherever you go. You’ve felt his presence in the mansion—heard his voice in the halls, the sound of his footsteps on the floorboards—but he’s kept his distance. He hasn’t sought you out, hasn’t tried to talk to you, and that stings more than you want to admit.

You’ve tried to stay strong, to remind yourself of the resilience you found during your time away. You’ve reminded yourself over and over that you don’t need anyone else to validate your worth, that you can stand on your own. Yet the longer Logan avoids you, the harder it is to hold on to that strength. The old wounds, the ones you thought had begun to heal, start to ache again, and you can’t help but wonder if anything has really changed at all.

More often than not, you find yourself retreating to the front lawn. The sun is warm on your skin as you lie down in the grass, a book in hand. The soft rustling of leaves in the breeze and the distant hum of life inside the mansion create a peaceful background, and for a moment, you manage to lose yourself in the pages of your book.

Still, even here, in the sanctuary of the garden, the thoughts you’ve been trying to push aside keep creeping back in. The memory of Florence, of Logan’s hesitation, lingers like a bitter aftertaste. You replay the moment over and over in your mind, trying to make sense of it, trying to understand why he stopped, why he didn’t come for you.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t notice the shadow that falls across your page until a deep, familiar voice breaks the silence.

“I’m glad you’re alright.”

The voice startles you, and you jerk slightly, looking up to see Logan standing above you. His expression is guarded, as if he’s not sure how you’ll react to his presence. There’s a tautness to his posture, a stiffness that you recognize all too well. 

For a moment, you just stare at him, caught off guard by the suddenness of his appearance. He’s as rugged and intimidating as ever, but there’s something different in his eyes—something a tad bit softer. You close your book, sitting up slowly as you meet his gaze. The question that’s been gnawing at you since Florence rises to the surface, and you know you can’t keep it inside any longer.

“What happened?” you ask, your voice steady but filled with quiet intensity. “In Florence?”

His jaw tightens, and he looks away for a moment, his gaze shifting to the trees in the distance. He doesn’t answer immediately, and the silence stretches out between you, thick with unspoken words. 

You just watch him, waiting for an explanation, but there’s a part of you that’s already bracing for disappointment. You’ve been here before, waiting for Logan to decide what happens next, to take the lead. And you’re tired of it. You’re tired of being the one left in the dark, of being the one who has to wait for him to be ready.

Finally, he lets out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as if the weight of the world is pressing down on him. “I… I hesitated,” he admits huskily, almost in a growl. “I wanted to save you. Hell, I was going to. But then… I didn’t know if you wanted me to.”

His confession hangs in the air, and you feel a mix of emotions—surprise, confusion, and sadness. You hadn’t expected this, hadn’t realized that his hesitation was rooted in something so painfully human.

“Why wouldn’t I want you to?” you ask softly, searching his face for answers.

Logan finally looks at you, really looks at you, and the raw emotion in his eyes takes your breath away. “Because of everything that’s happened between us. Because I pushed you away. I hurt you, and I thought… maybe you’d be better off if it wasn’t me.”

You shake your head, trying to make sense of his reasoning. “Logan, this can’t keep being about what you think is best,” you begin. “And it’s not about who saves who. It’s about being there when it counts. You were there. You came for me.”

He doesn’t have a response to that, at least not right away. He looks down at the ground, his fists unclenching, his shoulders slumping even further. It’s like he’s carrying the weight of everything he’s done, everything he’s failed to do, and it’s crushing him. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally manages to get out. “For everything.”

You stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I know I’ve messed up,” he continues. “I know I haven’t been there for you like I should’ve. But I’m here now. And if you’ll let me… I want to try to make things right.”

You know you should be happy—this is everything you’ve wanted to hear from him for so long. But it’s also too much, too late. The doubt, the pain, it can’t just disappear with a snap of your fingers.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” you admit. 

There’s pain on his face. “I get it,” he says, his voice rough but steady. “I know I’ve got a lot to make up for. And I know it’s not going to happen overnight. But I’m willing to do whatever it takes, if it means I can earn your trust back.”

“I need time. I need time to figure out where I stand, and where you stand with me.”

He nods slowly, his gaze dropping to the ground again. “Take all the time you need,” he says quietly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I appreciate that,” With a small nod, you stand up, brushing the grass off your clothes. “I need time,” you repeat, more for your own benefit than his.

“And you’ve got it,” Logan replies. “As much as you need.”

—

Days turn into weeks, and weeks into months. You focus on yourself, on healing the wounds that were reopened during your conversation with Logan. It feels strange, being the one who needs space, but you know it’s necessary. You find things to take your mind off him: you train more, read more, spend more time with Rogue, Kitty, or Remy. It’s nice.

But Logan… Logan doesn’t give up. He knows you need time, and he respects that. He doesn’t push, doesn’t pressure you to make a decision, but he makes it clear through his actions that he hasn’t forgotten about you, and more importantly, that he isn’t going anywhere.

It starts with the small things—things so subtle that you almost don’t notice at first. You probably wouldn’t have suspected anything if you hadn’t known the kind of person he is. He’s nothing if not persistent. He knows you better than you realize—the rift he created after Jean’s death muddling with your memory—and he uses that knowledge to quietly, almost imperceptibly, work his way back into your life.

In the mornings, you wake up to find your favorite snacks waiting for you in the kitchen, carefully placed where you’d be sure to see them. He never mentions it, never takes credit, but you know it’s him. It’s in the way he glances at you from the corner of his eye as you take a bite, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He never makes a big deal out of it—just a quiet, unspoken gesture that says, I’m thinking of you.

Then there are the late-night training sessions. You go down to the Danger Room or the gym, hoping to clear your mind with a bit of solitary exercise, only to find Logan already there. At first, you’re tempted to leave, to find somewhere else to work out, but something in his demeanor stops you. He doesn’t approach you, doesn’t speak unless you initiate it. Instead, he just… exists beside you, his presence steady and reassuring, like a rock in the storm.

It’s in these moments that you begin to see a different side of Logan—one that’s patient, understanding, and perhaps a little unsure of himself. He follows your lead, mirroring your exercises or silently spotting you during weightlifting, always attentive to your needs without ever making you feel pressured or overwhelmed. He’s just there, offering his support in the quietest, most understated way possible.

And then there are the little surprises in your room—small, thoughtful gestures that you can’t help but notice. A favorite book you’d mentioned in passing suddenly appears on your nightstand, its pages pristine and waiting for you to dive into. The time-worn leather straps on your gear are suddenly replaced with new ones that fit perfectly, the stitching unmistakably done by Logan’s hand. Even your plants, the ones you’d worried would wither away while you were on a mission, seem to thrive in your absence, the soil freshly watered and the leaves turned toward the sun.

He never asks for thanks, never draws attention to what he’s doing. It’s all done quietly, behind the scenes, as if he’s afraid that if you notice too much, you might push him away. But you do notice. How could you not?

At first, you try to ignore it, telling yourself that these gestures don’t change anything, that they’re just a way for Logan to assuage his guilt. You tell yourself that he’s just doing this because he feels bad, because he wants to make up for the past, not because he actually cares. You’ve built walls around your heart for a reason, and you’re not ready to let them down just because he’s being nice.

But over time, those small gestures begin to chip away at those walls, brick by brick. You start to realize that Logan isn’t just going through the motions—he’s really paying attention, noticing the little things that make you who you are. It isn’t just about the snacks or the books or the plants—it’s about the way he remembers the details of your life, the things that matter to you, the things that make you feel seen and understood.

After a particularly long and stressful day, you return to your room exhausted, and all you want is to collapse into bed and forget the world for a while. But when you walk in, you find a small bouquet of wildflowers sitting on your nightstand, the beautiful colors a stark contrast to the dark thoughts that have been swirling in your mind all day. There’s no note, no explanation—there never is—but you know who left them.

You just stand there, staring at the flowers, your heart squeezing in your chest. It’s such a simple gesture, and yet it means so much. You’d forgotten that Logan knew how much you love wildflowers—you’d mentioned it once, years ago. The way they’re resilient, thriving even in the harshest conditions, blooming where others wouldn’t. It’s as if he’s telling you that he sees that strength in you, that he admires it.

And it’s then, in the quiet of your room, surrounded by the small, thoughtful gestures that Logan has left behind, that you realize something. This isn’t just about making up for the past. Logan is showing you, in the only way he knows how, that he wants this. Wants you.

He's finally picked up the pieces of him that fell apart after Jean’s death, and he is willing to pick up the pieces of you that fell apart after his rejection.

So, one evening, months after that fateful conversation on the lawn, you find yourself standing in the common room, staring at the fireplace, lost in thought. The mansion is quiet, the rest of the team either out on a mission or asleep. It’s just you and the flickering flames, the soft crackling of the fire the only sound in the room.

But when you hear footsteps behind you, heavy and deliberate, you know instantly who it is. Without turning, you can sense his presence, the way he moves with that quiet confidence, the way the air seems to shift when he is near. Logan has always had a way of grounding you, even when you don’t want him to.

He walks up beside you, stopping just short of touching you, his warmth radiating in the small space between your bodies. He doesn’t say anything at first, doesn’t ask why you’re here or try to force a conversation. He just stands there, his hands shoved into his pockets, waiting patiently, giving you the time you need. It’s something you’ve come to appreciate about him in recent months—his newfound ability to just be, without pushing or demanding more than you’re ready to give.

"I’ve been thinking," you say finally, your voice soft, as you continue to gaze into the flames.

"Yeah?" Logan asks, his tone careful, as if he’s afraid of saying the wrong thing.

You turn to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. "You’ve been… different. Doing all these little things… I see them, you know."

Logan’s eyes meet yours, and for the first time in a long time, you see hope there. "I just wanted you to know that I care. That I’m sorry," he says, with so much emotion. “You were never a burden to me.”

You swallow hard. "It’s hard for me, Logan," you admit, "I’ve been hurt before, and I’m scared. Scared that if I let myself love you again, you’ll just… break me."

He steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. "I’d never hurt you again," he says, "I’d rather cut off my own damn hand than hurt you. The past is the past, and you are my future."

That’s enough to make your walls crumble completely. You know, deep down, that Logan is telling the truth. That he’s willing to do whatever it takes to earn your trust again.

And in that moment, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you’re ready to let him.

You don’t say anything. Instead, you let your actions speak for you. You close the distance between you, standing on your toes as you press your lips to his in a gentle, tentative kiss. Logan freezes for a split second, as if he can’t believe this is really happening, but then he kisses you back, his arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close, holding you as if he never wants to let go.

The kiss is slow, tender, full of everything that has been building between you for so long. It isn’t just a kiss—it’s a promise, a commitment to try again, to rebuild what has been broken. When you finally pull back, your breath mingling with his, you rest your head on his shoulder. "I’m still scared," you whisper.

"I know," Logan replies, his arms tightening around you. "But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. We’ll take this slow, darlin’. Whatever you need."

You nod. "Okay."

Logan smiles then, a real, genuine smile that makes your heart flutter in a way it hasn’t in years. It’s a smile full of relief, of gratitude, of love—a smile that tells you that he understands just how much this moment means, just how much you’re giving him by letting him back into your heart.

—

The time that follows is a slow, steady journey of rebuilding trust. Logan is true to his word—he is patient, understanding, and surprisingly tender in ways you hadn’t expected. The small gestures continue—coffee waiting for you in the morning, a gentle hand on your back during missions, quiet moments of companionship where no words are needed.

You can feel the doubts you’ve been holding onto slowly begin to fade. Each time Logan shows up for you, each time he puts your needs above his own, it chips away at the fear that has kept you guarded for so long. It’s in the way he listens when you talk, truly listens, as if every word you say matters. It’s in the way he looks at you—not with the same fury he once had, but with a steady, enduring affection that speaks of something deeper.

With Jean, he loved her because she was his soulmate, she was who the universe destined him to be with. He loved her because that’s what he thought he had to do.

With you, he has a choice. He doesn’t need to acknowledge the bond, but he chooses to. He chooses to everyday and he’ll never stop. He loves you because he wants to, not because he has to.

One evening, you find yourself sitting on the mansion’s porch watching the sunset. Logan joins you without a word, sitting close enough that your shoulders brush. 

“You’ve been quiet today,” he says softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

“I’ve just been thinking,” you reply, leaning your head on his shoulder. It’s a simple gesture, but one that speaks volumes about how far you’ve come in trusting him again.

“’Bout what?” he asks, his voice gentle.

“About us,” you say, your voice steady. “About how things have changed. How… how good they’ve been.”

Logan’s hand finds yours, his fingers lacing through yours in a way that feels so natural, so right. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you echo, squeezing his hand. “I’m not scared anymore, Logan. Not like I was.”

He turns to face you, his eyes searching yours. “You sure?”

You nod, smiling softly. “I’m sure. You’ve shown me that this bond means something to you, that you’re not going to hurt me. And… I want this. I want us.”

Logan’s face lights up with so much love, that it takes your breath away. He leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “I’m glad, darlin’. Because I want us too. More than anything.”

—

It isn’t long before the rest of the X-Men begin to notice the change in Logan as well. At first, it’s subtle—small things like the way he looks at you during briefings, or the way he seems to be more patient, more relaxed when you’re around. But over time, it becomes impossible to ignore.

During a training session in the Danger Room, you’re paired with Logan for a simulated mission. The others watch as Logan moves with you in perfect sync, his focus not just on the mission but on you—making sure you’re safe, supporting you when needed, and trusting you completely. It’s a far cry from the Logan they had seen when he was in mourning, where his moves were rash and careless.

After the session, as you and Logan leave the Danger Room, you catch sight of Ororo and Scott exchanging a look, the kind of look that speaks volumes, full of surprise and a touch of amusement.

“What?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as you approach them.

Ororo smiles warmly, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Nothing, just… noticing how good you two are together.”

Scott nods in agreement, his expression softening as he glances at Logan. “Yeah, it’s… different, finally seeing him like this. In a good way.”

Logan shrugs, but there’s no hiding the small smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. “What’re you guys talking about?”

“Just that it’s nice to see you happy, Logan,” Ororo says gently. “Really happy.”

Logan looks at you then, his smile growing as he meets your gaze. “Yeah. It is.”

More members of the team begin to notice the change in Logan as time goes on. Rogue, who has always had a soft spot for him, comments on how he seems more at ease, less burdened by the weight of his past. Hank, ever the observer, points out how Logan’s demeanor has shifted—less brooding, more open. Even Charles, who has seen Logan through his darkest times, pulls you aside one day to express his approval.

“I must say,” Charles says, his tone warm and approving, “I haven’t seen Logan like this in a very long time. Whatever you two have managed to sort out, it’s working.”

And it is. Slowly but surely, the wounds that had once held you back have healed. The doubts that had kept you from fully embracing your relationship with Logan have faded, replaced by a deep, abiding love. It isn’t just the little gestures anymore—it’s the way Logan makes you feel seen, heard, and cherished in a way that no one else ever has.

—

“I never thought we’d get here,” you admit one night whilst looking up at the stars.

Logan looks at you, his expression tender. “Neither did I,” he says, his voice full of sincerity. “But I’m damn glad we did.”

You smile, leaning into him as he wraps his arm around your shoulders. “I love you, Logan. And I trust you. Completely.”

His grip tightens slightly, as if to hold onto the moment, to hold onto you. “I love you too, darlin’. I never thought I’d feel this way about someone.”

You know what he’s trying to say. So without thinking, you reach up and cup his face, drawing him closer until your lips are just a breath away from his. “Show me,” you whisper, your voice low and filled with desire.

He doesn’t need any more encouragement. He closes the small gap between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that is soft at first, almost tentative, as if he’s savoring the feel of you. 

You can feel the heat between you building, the kiss growing more fervent as your hands roam over his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt, then into his hair. Brown. 

His hands slide up your back, one hand tangling in your hair as he angles your head, deepening the kiss further until you’re both breathless.

When you finally pull back, your foreheads resting against each other’s, you’re both panting, your hearts racing in sync. His eyes are dark with desire, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he holds you close.

“You’re everything to me,” he murmurs. “I never thought I’d get my happy ending, but here you are… and I’m never lettin’ you go.”

You smile, feeling the last remnants of pain melt away, replaced by a certainty that this is where you’re meant to be. “And I’m never leaving,” you whisper back, sealing your words with another kiss that quickly reignites the fire between you.

This kiss is hungrier, more urgent, as if you both need to make up for lost time. Logan’s hands roam your body with a possessiveness that sends shivers down your spine, his touch igniting a fire in your core.

That night, you lose yourself in him, in the way he tastes, in the way he makes love to you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world. Because this time, you’re not just in love—you’re in love with a man who loves you back, fully and completely. 

And that makes all the difference.

----

a/n: i love you if you made it this far. please check out my new series The Feeling's Mutual

[coconutdays]

consume

s. in a world of ghouls and humans, you've got a crush on a really hot guy with tattoos, but that doesn't mean he's a ghoul right?

w.c. 5.9k

w. fem! reader, ghoul!sukuna! x reader , fluff!, smut!, cannibalism!, gore!

a/n: this is a continuance on this thought of mine :)I just wrote this to get this out of my system :/ don't think I cooked as I usually do! but feel free to indulge in ghoul sukuna to at least scratch the itch.

"is that him y/n?" your friend's eyes widen and she grabs you by the shoulders, staring into the void of your soul "go up to him. now."

you came for drinks with your friends just a couple minutes ago. and you were so unaware until now, that across from you is the random hot guy you always see on your way home.

your friend, the one bolstering you to go up to him, has heard of this crush. considering you can't spend a day without talking about the hotness of this man.

"I-I, " you start to stutter, "I shouldn't. I see him all the time around the neighborhood and he's never so much as bat an eye at me or acknowledged my presence."

"and I do not care," she huffs, turning you around and beginning to push you in his direction at the bar, "no guy is capable of rejecting your beauty when its waved right in front of their face."

you hear her huffing and can probably make out how flushed her cheeks are from going against your planted feet on the ground, scared to go up to the man nearing you, even though its you coming closer. you feel your heartbeat quicken by at least 50 beats and the adrenaline from such a simple act is rushing through your veins.

until you're there. and he's doesn't even move to face you, his eyes just dart to you.

"hi." you manage to choke out.

he smells like like leather and stone cold vanilla. it's a smell you won't be able to get out of your head tonight.

he looks like he's about to sigh and say something to send you walking away, but you speak again before he can dismiss you, possibly, "I think you're handsome and I wanted to talk to you."

"you looking for a quick fuck?" his voice rumbles so nonchalantly as he takes a sip of his whiskey

"no." you answer in a heartbeat, quickly moving your head from side to side as a sign of your counter to the idea, "I don't think I would be this nervous if I was just looking for that."

"Then what are you looking for?" He's suddenly looming over you, body now turned to face you and his early stance of dismissal gone. although you don't know if that's what you prefer now considering this is so much more intimidating. he's squinting his eyes at you just a tad and you can tell he's biting his cheek.

"something that doesn't hurt me." is all you can speak into existence, softly.

he stares at you

he stares at you for a long while, his brown eyes so light, they're almost red. it's intense and you don't know what he's playing at.

he gets up abruptly, the chair that was beneath him screeching, face unnerved when he reaches a hand out expectantly, "your phone."

your eyes widen and you fumble around for your phone before planting it in his hand.

"what's your name," he says as he presses what you suppose is his contact information into your phone.

you hear a ring coming from his back pocket when you answer, "y/n"

"sukuna," he replies back curtly before handing you back yours and moving to shut off his phone. he then takes out a ten dollar bill and puts it on the countertop before turning to leave, "stay with your friends, it's not safe on your own out there."

you hadn't noticed at all that your friend had left you to talk to the familiar stranger, sukuna now, at some point during the interaction. when you turned around, your group was staring between you and the ominous figure leaving as if they were watching a thriller movie and needed a bowl of popcorn to shove their hands into.

when you were on the way home by cab that night, you received a text, that seemed a manifestation due to how hard you prayed for the next buzz from your phone to be from him.

it was a curt reminder that he would meet you outside your apartment--that he also asked for the address of--the following morning so he could take you out. and nothing more. it was so curt, that although he was still inviting you out, you made it your mission to dress your most attractive the next morning.

you notice he's already outside of the door when peek your head out the door early, doubtful of how early he would be, which he was. sukuna had gotten there ten minutes beforehand, at the least. and although you weren't that mentally prepared to be out with him, you sucked it up and tried your best to confidently walk out the door when he noticed you.

"looks like we're both early," you joke a bit shyly, fiddling with the straps of your purse

"if you need more time you can go back up," he says, having straightened his posture from leaning against the wall and now looking at the busying street, as if to stay aware of his surroundings

"no it's okay, I've been ready for about half an hour now," you smile meekly in embarrassment

the comment makes him flick an eye to you, "should have told me."

"for?" you blink up at him, unaware

"for me to show up earlier," he clicks with his tongue before looking to the left and motioning for the both of you to start walking

it's about ten minutes into your silent walk to who knows where that you hear him speak again without previous poking, "you eat breakfast?"

"yes, actually! it was a lot so im still pretty full, considering the time."

"alright," he nods before locking eyes on something and placing a surprisingly gentle hand on the small of your back to maneuver you to your left, "it's here."

and the small entrance he guides you through leads to an immediate splash of greenery

a garden, a large one, surrounded by something you couldn't make out

"it's a bookshop."

and now you could make out the shelves through the surrounding windows

there's a number of different flowers surrounding you and you can't help but dash to a rather beautiful spawn of peonies.

"they're so beautiful!" you bite your lip in excitement, like you'd just seen a puppy. and that's when you spot a small pathway leading to a shrouded bench.

and you get an idea, "do you think they have Takatsuki in there?"

sukuna quirks a brow at you, "you like that insane shit?"

"I like creepy stuff." you blink at him, shamelessly stating the interest of yours

"come on," he juts his chin towards the far end of the garden, where the entrance was

moments later, you come out with a hardcover edition of The Black Goat's Egg you'd been vying for for months, purchased by sukuna, who asked, "that the one you want?" when you said yes, he plucked it from your hands and paid for it at the register.

"thank you." you say in appreciation when you set your purse down next to you on the bench, and flip to the beginning page of the book while sukuna adjusts himself next to you.

the handsome giant says nothing and instead drapes an arm over the side of the bench behind you and flicks his eyes towards the book, waiting for you to read like you'd promised so.

"you'll like it," you smile at him before subconsciously sinking just a little into his personal space and adjusting the book comfortably onto your lap, "ahem..."

you had been reading for about an hour and a half now, and sukuna showed no signs of distaste for the book. he hadn't said a word since the moment you started reading, listening and skimming over the book with you.

"mother's hands carved out the veins beneath his chest, not me. from her nails came the rotten smell of hardened blood. oh this is my favorite part. but I could feel the pulsing of his lungs on my hands. how his heart still beat when I had opened his chest. the breath of life beneath my palms, inhaling and exhaling. my excitement brewed, a woman's touch knew nothing of the enthrallment this brought me-"

grrrrrrrrrr

embarrassing

there's no way in hell your stomach just did that in front of him. you try to mutter a quick sorry and pick back up where you left off, but the moment you open your mouth again after the quick apology, sukuna interrupts you.

"it's time for you to eat."

why did he say that like you were some sort of pet.

he was such a serious speaker sometimes.

while you start to gather your things, sukuna already stands up and reaches a hand out for you to stabilize yourself on.

"I don't think its time time," you say while taking his hand, not wanting to go back to your apartment yet and finish reading yet, "I won't cook normally until another half hour from-"

"you said you liked the same type of pasta the guy was eating in the book right," he cut you off, levitating a hand over your shoulders that simply wooed you into stepping next to him at a comfortable pace while he moved for the both of you to cross the street.

"yeah..."you agreed, catching another whiff of his cologne in the breeze

and that's how you wound up with him ordering a full plate for you and a boring cup of coffee for himself moments later at a restaurant.

"you sure you're not hungry?" you questioned worriedly, eyes searching for any illness on him, scared to grab the fork before you

"I'm cutting, I'll cook at home." he shrugged

"cook what then?" you almost pout, feeling bad that you were going to be feasting in front of him while he merely had a coffee

he looked you dead in the eyes and said before taking a sip of his coffee, "steak."

"ghoul." you shot back while reaching for your fork and making towards the pasta

for the first time, you saw irritation on sukuna's face in the form of a twitch of his nose, "beef. steak."

he seemed so serious and you couldn't help but stick your tongue out playfully, "I know, but you might as well be one if you're that built from so much protein. heh."

sukuna let a tsk out and took a sip of his coffee, "eat your food."

you wound up getting walked home by sukuna later after the meal, a full stomach and new book, both provided by him upon your return.

"thank you again for the book" the corners of your lips quirked up a little cutely, "and for the meal too."

"you still need to eat something later tonight."

"I will" you nod and look up at him earnestly before reaching for his hand and gesturing for him to be level with you.

"goodbye," you land a quick peck on his cheek and let go of his hand, already rushing towards your building door and entering the code in as fast as possible. you couldn't look back, and didn't .

this pattern of dates repeats itself quite often after. sukuna's taken you to what seems like every bookstore in the city and purchased whatever makes your fancy every time. he's had you read for him. he's bought you every sweet and dessert you've wanted. he's brushed a crumb of a macaroon of your lips, carried you bridal style to avoid getting your shoes wet in a large street puddle, the most endearing things, albeit stoically, but

he's never kissed you

you think it has something to do with how stoic he is. maybe there's some sort of damage with him. he's so immersed whenever he's with you, learning and observing you, but it's always felt as if he's keeping part of himself watered down with you.

a hint of snarkiness has left him before, you saw so when a little girl in a park punched an older boy for yanking on her pigtail.

and he never takes you out at night. he hasn't specifically said he doesn't want to go out during the late hours of the afternoon or night, but he always manages to schedule your outings to end before so.

it's why you bite the bullet, and make today's lunch, into a dinner hosted by you, with the convenient excuse that your work asked you to come in for finishing touches on a project you'd be presenting next week and couldn't make it to lunch.

sukuna agreed with no qualms, that you couldn't see through the screen of your phone of course, and even asked if you needed any ingredients.

your chicken had already been in the oven for about twenty minutes when he had knocked on your door--you had texted him the code to your building earlier.

"hi." you breathed, opening the door for him to come in, "I put this chicken recipe I found online to bake. it's supposed to be healthy."

sukuna walked further into your apartment and analyzed his surroundings while you yapped away.

"it's probably not like the steak you eat, maybe less in protein, but I think you'll like it. I don't think I could make steak that good for someone else on the first try..."

"your hand," he slightly quirks a brow up and gestures towards your right hand, two bandages on your middle and pointer finger.

"tomato dicing mishap," you give him a sheepish closed mouth smile while raising your hand up, "it's a bit more annoying than a paper cut. bleeds more than one."

"I could order for here-"

"no! it's okay. I'm done anyway. I need to take out the chicken in a bit anyways." and you move to grab the controller to your tv, "do you have anything in mind you want to watch?”

“the news.”

you slightly furrow your brows, but accommodate to his request then leave the controller on the coffee table, "you see something happen?"

"just don't like not knowing what's going on," he huffs gruffly while eyeing the ongoing news report for the day.

"A ghoul has atrociously murdered and consumed various members of our community. last night's victim is unidentifiable, but his age can be estimated to be about thirty. surveillance cameras near the area show no capture evidence of who could have done this, but reports and evidence point to it being the same perpetrator of the last couple of murders this month-"

you walk to your oven to get the chicken out and start to put on your mittens, "at least it's not girls."

sukuna's eyes flicker towards you, interested in what you're saying, "you should be scared."

you're setting the hot pan on the countertop when you look back at him, eyes clean of any fear, "but he's been eating shit guys."

sukuna turns his body to you and crosses his arms, as if he's about to chew your ear off for saying that, but you continue, moving to plate the food for both of you, "all the bodies they've reported are all well distinguished low life perverts, some have even tried to chase me down when I say no. one of them tried taking a picture under my skirt once."

you place the plates on either side of the dining table for the both of you and sit down, "whatever ghoul that's getting his full with them doesn't scare me. we know he eats a lot, if those guys weren't enough, he'd go for girls already. and before you bite my head off for not being scared, you should know by now that I rarely go out at night, especially not without someone with me. now sit, food's ready."

sukuna eyes moves towards the dining table and eyes your dish a bit wearily as he slides his chair out for him to sit on.

when he sits, you speak again, "I got the recipe from one of those super healthy bodybuilders, so it should be good enough for you. plus, I'm a good cook."

sukuna still stairs into the void, where our plate should be, but he makes for the knife and fork you put for him, "thank you."

and he enjoyed it, you think. he didn't say it was good, but he finished his plate diligently. if he hated it, he would have said something, or shown it on his face.

"I'll wash the dishes," he said when you were about to reach for his plate and instead he took both of yours and got up.

"oh, okay," you observed as he turned on the faucet, his back to you, he looked out of place in the small spot, "I can start putting a movie, you liked when I read Howl's Moving Castle, I have the movie for it."

You looked for a response, and you received one in the form of a nod, so you stood up and sat on the couch, looking through your streaming services.

sukuna finishes faster than you expected

"I need to take a piss," he says as he walks towards the restroom

"okay," you responded without hesitation as you tried to restart the movie considering your streaming service was glitching on you and the movie was already in the ends credits--you watched it that often.

you solved the problem quicker than you thought, because when sukuna comes back from peeing, you've already got the movie paused at the beginning, waiting for him to sit so you can press play.

and when he does sit, it's at a distance from you, which you don't make a comment about because hey, maybe he's just a guy with boundaries.

and it's halfway through the movie that you have barely even paid attention to your favorite movie of all time. the music you always enjoy and look forward to seems to have never reached your ears. the funny antics by Calcifer don't elicit a giggle from you.

"why haven't you tried to kiss me?"

is he even attracted to you? because you have boundaries and you're a woman, but

you want his hands on you for more than just protection or help. you want to know what it feels like to sit on his lap, that you're sure is more comfortable than your couch considering how meaty and large he is.

and now you're in silence, even though the tv must be at more than the recommended volume setting.

"do you want me to?" sukuna asks, still watching the movie, but you can tell his attention is entirely on you

"I wouldn't be saying anything if I didn't want you to..." you breathe, cursing yourself for bringing such an awkward situation upon the both of you. the movie seems as if its not being processed by your eyes even though you're staring at it, too scared to look at him.

the need to backtrack overcomes you and you feel like you need to overexplain your lack of manners and how he should disregard what you're saying when-

he's tilted your chin towards him

and his mouth is on yours

its beyond sensual and you can feel your thighs shift against each other, but nowhere is it an intense roughness.

he's a godsend, you think, right as he pulls away and gets up.

you're dazed and confused as he walks to your door

"I preferred when you read the book to me," he states monotonously while he shrugs his leather jacket on and opens the door.

"I'll send for a dessert for you later." he's halfway through the doorway and his back is to you, "don't finish it all if you still feel full. your cramps get worse with sugar."

"my cramps-"

he shuts the door and you're left dumbfounded in your living room

oh. he must've seen the packaging of your pad thrown in the restroom bin.

later that night, there was a large helping of warm churros that a guy delivered to your apartment building.

you img_786 thank you, they're really good

sukuna don't finish all of it

you I won't <3

and then he's gone

for a month you haven't heard from him

you shouldn't be rotting in your bed this often, but you are. you don't want to frequent out unless its with him. the few bookstores you did know before him, and went to after with him are sickeningly wrapped in the ambience of him.

going out at night reminds you that he didn't like when you were out at night, sending punctual texts about whether you were home or not

the walk home, where you got excited to even see him for a second is a disdainful reminder of him.

and you feel so ridiculed

the last time you talked, it was because you technically asked for a kiss that he ended up giving

but then walking away and going home.

it hurt your ego

you ran out of matcha tea a bit before sundown. it was a calming drink for you, something you'd been finding comfort it especially during this time.

so you left your apartment to go to the grocery store in your neighborhood. it was a weekday, so the streets weren't all that crowded, everyone was already on the way home.

it was a quick trip, you came out with a tin of matcha and a tub of ice cream, but the sun was halfway through its descent back into the night.

nothing would happen. ghouls don't lurk the moment the sun sets.

your apartment is around the corner when you hear a familiar voice.

"don't move unless you want me to eat your kagune."

why does that sound a lot like him?

there was a sort of mushy sound that followed, then a painful groan

or screech, you couldn't tell the the difference from how pained it was

"please sukuna! I-I didn't know-"

a scream followed, along with a grotesque noise

he said sukuna's name? is that-

"AHAHAHAA LOOK AT HOW FUCKED UP YOUR LUNGS ARE! BASICALLY SHREDS IN MY HANDS!"

it's undeniably his voice, but you've never heard him like this.

if you could just get a look, turn your head over the alleyway just a little

you almost vomit at the sight.

the man you had been moping over for the past few weeks had four large tentacles for a kagune, bright blood red and pinning down the man beneath him, who's lungs unmistakably were in sukuna's hands.

he was eating it like it was something easy, like a slice of ham

the other man-ghoul's intestines were spilling out onto the ground

and all you could do was stand still.

"I didn't know she was off-limits!" the ghoul cried, tears running down his half eaten face considering he was missing a piece of cheek.

"doesn't matter," sukuna retorted, digging a hand in again and taking out what looked like a liver, "what were you going to do to her huh?"

he took a bite and spoke with a full mouth in his face, "I know what lowlife creeps like you like to do to girls like her."

"and how are they supposed to stop coming if I let every creep that wanders near her live?"

and upon further inspection, you realize that the guy underneath him spoke to you this morning on the subway. he made uncomfortable conversation about your skirt and you got off the moment he started getting too close to your personal space

unbeknownst to you, you start shaking and your breath hitches

sukuna hears it

when he turns to face you, where the noise came from, his eyes are red this time, the whites blackened. he's breathing hard as he stares you down.

"go. home." is all he snarls menacingly

and no matter how hard you want to plant your feet and say no because you're mad at him, you run back home. the minute that was left in walking home became twenty seconds.

how you wound up at your apartment that fast was a wonder to you. but all you know is that so many things are making sense, but not at the same time.

that ghoul was going to come for you if it wasn't for sukuna. was sukuna the ghoul from the news? had he eaten all those men? god, you can't even remember all the times you've been cat-called or bothered on the street. how long had he been doing this?

"open the door."

you're back to reality at the sound of sukuna behind the door to your apartment

maybe if you pretend you're not-

"I can hear your heart beating, open the door."

"I don't want to!" you try not to yell, speaking as firmly as you can so as to not garner unwanted attention.

"if you open the door," he starts to speak with irritation that so tells you theres a just as irritated smile on his face, "I can explain to you."

"why do you want to talk now?" you stomp your foot on the ground, praying that the inertia stops the tears building on your waterline from falling down your cheeks

"open the door and I'll tell you y/n." he says, patience still wavering

he stares you down menacingly when you abruptly open the door, but you've got your own look to challenge, brimming with almost tears and an anger like no other at how he hurt you

"I told you to not go out at night."

"how long ago was that huh?" you retort

sukuna bites his cheek and enters your apartment, planting himself in the farthest corner of your living room to argue with you.

"you still know better." he gestures a hand to the window, outside, "I don't care if there's still a couple minutes before the sun sets. don't go outside."

"why not, you'll be there to eat anyone who lurks near me."

your nose is scrunched at him in anger and for the first time, it looks like he has nothing to say

"were you the ghoul from the news the other night?" you sniffle

sukuna looks at you with dead irritation, like he has a million things to say, but none at the same time.

"are you trying to keep me to yourself? to eat me on a rainy day, like a special treat? is that why you couldn't bare to date me? because I was just food?"

"no." he bites back, arms crossed, tongue poking through his cheek while his head moves to face the other way

"then?" you waiver, hands dropped to the sides of your body in fists.

"I'm a ghoul," his red eyes dart to you, pinning you under his gaze," you're a human."

"you can't stand that I'm a human?" you step back, hurt

it seems your words confund him to irritation again when he responds, "you just saw me eating someone's lungs."

"he was going to eat me." you reason

"you're an idiot..." he scoffs, tapping his foot impatiently on the ground

"then why are you still here?" you bite back

your retaliation seems to have set him off, because he soon starts walking towards you and pins you under his body and the countertop behind you

"I was born to eat you," he snarls close to your face, "I will find a way to break you. it's nature. every single day, all I can think about is how much I want to sink my teeth into your flesh. does that not scare you?"

"maybe that's because you never tried to take out your urges on me in other ways." you murmur defiantly

the comment makes him stand still, leaving both of your breaths as the only sound in the room.

"you don't know what you're saying." his nose twitches

"neither do you, you've never tried."

his hands are gripping the countertop so hard, you can hear a slight crumble.

but then sukuna's breathing grows ragged and it would have alarmed you, were it not for his following actions.

his arms brings your entire body towards him when he envelopes you in a nasty kiss.

this

this was sexual

his chest grumbles when you stick your tongue into his mouth and he sucks on it painfully

the bliss is so entrancing, you can't even distinguish the metallic taste.

one of his hands goes to envelop your ass and the grip he has is so strong and painful that you think he's made finger sized holes in your jeans.

the moan that leaves you is far too sinful, but he pulls you impossibly closer and grabs you by the back of your legs to pull you up. sukuna then starts walking to the only other door that doesn't lead to the restroom. to your room.

he'd just bitten your lip to the point where you're sure it'd be bruised within an hour when he threw you onto the bed and yanked your pants off. you don't know if he tore them off or genuinely took them off, but all you know is that the sight when he takes off his shirt next is magnetizing. his body is sculpted and defined everywhere, his pecs are huge, his abs scrumptiously lining his abdomen, and his v-line makes you eager to jump on top of him.

but his tattoos, they're the cherry on top. there's two ragged lines, almost as if fangs scraping down his abdomen, and they seem as if they have brothers and sisters reaching to do the same down his pecs and on the small of his neck. you know about the others on his arms, but not these.

"take off your shirt before I rip it off and you start whining about it." he growls while he fiddles with his belt to push down his pants

you follow orders, no care for if he did rip your shirt (in the moment), but eager to have him

the hard on you're greeted with is just below terrifying.

were all ghouls this gifted?

you have a feeling this was just sukuna

"still feel like you can take it." sukuna snarls as he pushes you further up the bed and positions himself between your legs.

you don't even get a chance to make a comment on what he's about to so intimately do before he tears through the fabric separating your pussy from the outside and delves in without so much as a second thought.

not even ten seconds in and your legs are shaking furiously, with no stop to it so as long as he was on top of you

his tongue is penetrating you so deeply and you don't even have time to question if that's a biological feature on ghouls. all you know is that's it's wet and oh so stimulating, so much so, you're screaming and whining

there's no words you can say, you're screaming so much from the pleasure that you instinctively start to pull away from him, but he growls and keeps you in place

oh

he's been staring at you this entire time

with those eyes

mercy be

it's just enough to drag you to the tipping point and your relief washes over you and him, while he drinks it all up ferociously.

you think he's going to stop when it feels like he's licked you clean from your mess

until he doesn't

he goes on

and he goes on for what seems like an hour

you feel you've gone insane, you can't even count how many times he's made you cum since. you've never been destroyed this way.

your voice is gone when he comes up and stares at you, caging you between his arms.

you're not going to tap out, you try to say with your eyes

and he understands, as it seems, hiking up both of your legs to your chest and beginning to run his fat tip across your folds

"remember, you asked for this." sukuna mutters meanly when he pushes in in one go

you thought it was a lie when some girls said their boyfriends were so big, that they could feel their veins rubbing against their insides

it wasn't

even his tip is being molded to by your pussy

"oh my god," you moan painfully, "I can't-i'm gonna-"

"you can," he retorts, starting to pull back and the mere drag has you keening

you think you have the same effect, considering how labored his breathing has gotten and there's nothing left for you to do besides pull him in for a kiss to sedate yourself from the intensity happening below

the single beginning of the contact illicits sukuna's start of a ruthless pace

your moans seem to make him suck on your tongue punishingly every time. and your hands can't find nothing else to do besides drag painfully down his back. you think you might have just hurt your own hands from how hard his skin is.

sukuna stops kissing you while he pummels inside of you to speak

"scream for me."

command or not, you were still doing so

"filthy little slut," he groans through each stroke, "tightest fucking pussy I've ever fucked."

"pussy's fucking mine, you're never going to touch anyone else. if you even try, I'll kill them."

he keeps going like this, on and on and all you can do is nod and agree with everything he says, because let's be honest, who were you to even glance at someone else after this?

you notice purple indents forming where his hands are on your thighs when he leans down to your face and says, "whaddya say princess, you like being mine?"

"mhm," you nod ernestly, and gather the courage to speak, even if it is hoarse, "love it so much sukuna."

"gonna blow a huge fucking load in your pussy," he murmurs to himself more than anything

"plea-please." you moan needing to be as close to him as possible, feeling an idea surface to your mind

"bite me."

if sukuna weren't so depraved and lost in you, he would have stopped. but he keeps going and instead leans closer to hear you

"bite me," you breathe, almost screaming at the end, "just enough for it not to scar."

sukuna keeps staring at you while he destroys your insides, giving no indication as to if he was going to do follow through with your wishes, until he leans down to your chest

you scream in pain and a delicious ecstasy

there's a small little pool of blood coming from your skin and his mouth when you look down. his hips start stuttering too, and it makes you think that this might be his tipping point.

you're so fucked up that it's yours too

before you know it, his pace grows so erratic that you start cumming and pulsating around him sporadically, unable to contain yourself from the pleasure.

and he starts cumming too.

sukuna lifts himself up from your chest and captures your mouth in his, making you taste a part of yourself you never thought you would. he grows weak in the kiss too, while his cum seeps out and pools into you. it lets you nibble on his tongue, an action that him sinking into your body while he gives you a last few weak thrusts.

"ow," you giggle after a moment of silence

sukuna brings his head up quickly, eyes slightly wide and in worry

"how am I gonna wear a bra over that," you laugh, observing the bleeding bite mark over your boob

sukuna looks down at it, "just don't wear one."

"boobs bring perverts."

sukuna rolls his eyes in exhaustion and dips his head into your chest, licking your wound, "you're not going anywhere without me there anyway."

[atoltia]

Their Little Nest

In which MC reorganizes their house over time and Sylus, because of an offhand comment from the twins, thinks she's nesting.

Sylus x fem!MC fluff

Pregnancy thoughts and talk.

-0-

It started with the little things.

Tiny potted plants sat prettily on his shelves, the many side and coffee tables in the manor, their little pops of green and brightly colored petals brightening what once was a corner of shadow.

It wasn't like Sylus didn't keep plants in the house, no. It was just he didn't pay them any mind besides making sure the staff was taking care of them.

So it really came as a surprise when he suddenly found himself watching you and the twins hauling boxes into the house, chattering about plant growth and such as you took out several lamps.

"Kitten," he said from his position by the doorway, strong arms folded over his chest as he leaned against the frame. "With that much light, you're going to start to photosynthesize."

You turned, smiled at him as you tilted your head up to nuzzle into his chin when he strode towards you. You held up two different types of lamps for him to see. "They're lamps."

"I can see that."

You chuckled, leaned against him when he reached over to fiddle with the lamp in your hand. "I didn't know if I needed sun lamps or grow lamps for the plants so I got a lot of both."

"Mm." Sound logic enough, he thought. He patted her head. "Let's set them up, then."

And so they did.

(Even though both of you did bicker about adding a grow lamp - not the sun lamp - in his office for that tiny desk succulents you graciously added to his massive workspace.)

(He conceded, of course.)

But it didn't stop there. Not that he expected it to stop, knowing you.

It was a rough day. A negotiation that Sylus needed to get done didn't pull through as the moron representing the offending faction decided to get flustered and pulled out a gun at him, voiding the deal and thus resulting in a gun fight.

The situation was dealt with easily enough, but the cleanup needed his attention particularly because they had several protocores that he was aiming to acquire and wasn't going to leave without them. Alas, as they refused to make it easier for everyone involved, they had to waste not just his time but his ammo as well as his perfectly cut suit.

Sylus landed on the couch with a groan, relief finally flooding his bones as the tension in his body started to dissipate. He wasn't bleeding any longer, but the aches remained, a dull thrum consistently buzzing so much that it prevented him to experience the relief of sleep.

While the fog enveloped the N109 Zone to obscure it from the wrath of the sun, the instinctual yearn for daylight annoyed him. The mere ghostly memory of the sun on his skin made him purse his lips, the mere thought of it sapping his already drifting energy.

He turned his head, buried it into the pillow-

He blinked, propped himself on his good arm as he stared at the pillows. Gone were the hard blocks of stone that posed for a pillow that he just never bothered to replace, seeing as he was in pain often enough that the uncomfortableness of them barely registered to him anymore. What sat under and beside his head were soft, the slight fur on the covers lightly tickling his cheek as it cradled his head, rapidly easing his throbbing headache.

Long fingers flexed, his brows furrowing when softness once again surrounded his senses.

There was a thick blanket beneath him, separating his battered body from the worn and cold leather of the couch.

Now, Sylus is a perceptive man. Being observant of his surroundings and having the ability to react accordingly is part of his job description, his lifestyle. One misstep, a single moment of carelessness, and he could end up dead.

He was sure these pillows and blanket were not here before he left the house no less than eleven hours earlier.

"Sylus."

He turned, alert eyes softening at the sight of you, drinking up the image of you in one of his long-sleeved button-ups that hung over your significantly smaller frame, your hair mussed in multiple directions.

A lazy, crooked smile adorned your face as you hummed his name, your eyes still drooped with sleep. The adorable crow plushie was cradled lovingly in your arms.

You took your time to cross the room, loved the way he settled back onto the couch as he watched you, those wonderful scarlet eyes not once leaving you. You accepted his outstretched hand, your laugh softly lilting in the air when he pulled you into his embrace.

"Hi," you purred, your body molding perfectly into his.

"Good morning." There was a tenderness in the room, blanketing the both of you as you cuddled on the couch. You cherished moments like this. It's not so often that Sylus would get home when you wake, and while you know that your beloved wasn't all too fond of the mornings, you also know that the man made sure to make time for little moments like this despite his busy schedule.

"You changed the pillows," he muttered, his deep voice rumbling as he nuzzled into your hair.

"Did I?" You kissed his exposed clavicle, trying to hide your smile.

"You did."

"Maybe the twins did it."

He snorted, his fingers digging into your hips before massaging it as his other hand fiddled with the leather that held your knife strapped to your thigh. "They would've have bought a vibrating couch before they get to the pillows."

You laughed. "That's true."

A beat of silence. Just two lovers laying on a couch, sharing whispers and secret laughter as the sun rose far beyond the N109 Zone.

It was peace.

Oh, if only that peace lasted.

It's been a few weeks since that little moment on the couch, and Sylus couldn't fathom how they went from there to where you were at this moment.

He sat on a stool on the kitchen, watching you clean what seemed like the eighth room in the manor and you didn't have any indication of stopping soon.

None of them knew why you were in such a frenzy to clean, but you knew it was important do it Right Now. He offered to help you, of course, after having a quick round with him arguing that you should just leave all the cleaning to the staff, seeing as that's one of the primary reasons why he hired them in the first place.

"Sweetie," he said, exasperation leaking into his usual smooth voice. "If you keep at it any longer, I'm gonna have to clean you up from the floor."

You scoffed, hissed when he tried to grab the mop from you. "You better sit your ass down before I dismantle all of your guns again."

"Oh?" His voice, sickly sweet, as he trailed the tip of his fingers up your neck, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. "Will you, now?"

Your eyes glinted, lips curling into a menacing smile as you passed the mop to your other hand, completely dodging his attempt to take it from you as you pressed your body sensually to his. Deft fingers from your now free hand lightly tapping playfully against his chest. You crooned. "You know I will."

A stare down. Something not too uncommon between the two of you. A pair of strong, stubborn people unwilling to yield.

Most of the time.

"Alright," he conceded. Sylus knew, even without peering into your desires, that you will not budge on this matter. So he sat, admitting full well that this isn't an issue that's worth having an argument over.

It only took one look from him to shut the twins' guffaw from the other side of the door. He could ignore the snickering, however.

"This is like the third time she cleaned this room," Kieran whispered to his brother.

"Fourth," supplied Luke as he enjoyed the way their boss was sulking at the counter. He didn't look like he was sulking, Luke knew that full well, but he just had that feeling. "You were too busy buying detergent when she cleaned this last Monday."

"Ah."

"Hm."

"Maybe she's nesting or whatever."

Luke hummed, shrugged. "Maybe."

Sylus was a man of composure. Not even the most lethal of situations are able to get a rise out of him, and even if it did, no one would be able to tell from his perfected poker face.

That was the only reason why he didn't fall out of his stool.

Could you be pregnant? But you two have been so careful, so sure that the both of you have done the necessary things to have safe sex. But it wasn't impossible, he knew. It was also possible for non-pregnant women to exhibit nesting behavior. Surely, you'd tell him immediately if something was amiss or... if you were experiencing some symptoms.

Children, huh? He didn't think he'd be a great father. If anything, he'd be a horrible one considering the simple fact that he brought danger with him anywhere he went.

He was hard lines and violence, bloodshed and death. The sins that he's committed - and will commit - was unfit for a father. A good father.

But... he supposed it would be nice to have children running across the house. His and your kids. A physical manifestation of your love.

It's not that he needed to have a mini version of himself. As far as he knew, he never had any inclination of even desiring to have them. That avenue of conversation hasn't opened up between you too, either. He didn't know if you even wanted to have children.

Children with him.

And he wouldn't mind it if you didn't want them. They were a commitment, not just some playthings to be discarded once the novelty wore off. It would take a lifetime.

Yet... It's a nice thought.

"Darling?" It was well into the night. You and Sylus were already snuggled up in bed but you knew something was off. Ever since your little event in the kitchen, Sylus has been drifting, sometimes zoning out into space. It was very uncharacteristic of him.

So you waited. He'd tell you eventually.

Yet you have to admit to yourself that you can be impatient.

Those eyes of his, momentarily dazed, focused on you. The room was dark, the steady thrum of the air conditioner droning in the background. And still you felt his eyes on you, focusing, focusing, his arms pulling you in closer to his body.

"Yes?"

"What's wrong?"

Of course you'd see it. Not that Sylus even attempted to hide it, seeing as you'd peer through him eventually. You waited for him to speak, frowned when you felt the spiking of his evol. "Sy?"

"Are you pregnant?"

You sputtered, pushed up from your position on the bed. Your hand quickly tapping the button for the lights.

Warmth illuminated the room as you stared into his eyes. You thought he was joking, thought he was pulling your leg, but the emotion that stormed his eyes moved you, surprised you.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Sy." There was distress in his voice, something that you thought you'd never hear. "My period finished a few days ago."

He closed his eyes as he let that information sink in, nodded. Released a breath. "Okay."

"Sylus." You nudged him, urged him to open his eyes. "Sweetheart, what brought this on?"

Sylus sighed, feeling as though the energy was tapped from him. Well, there was no reason to beat around the bush on this. "Kieran mentioned you might be nesting."

For all the time you've spent with Sylus, you knew that man rarely blushed. But the pink that dusted his cheeks and ears endeared you, the heartbeat that you loved listening to spiking.

"I'm sure, Sy."

"Right."

He didn't know if it was relief he felt as he held you, fingers kneading into the dip between your hips. He sighed. Gave you the smile that was only reserved for you.

"Why did you change the pillows?"

You tilted your head, smiled back, leaned down to kiss his nose. So it came back to the pillows.

"I wanted you to be comfortable whenever you collapse on the couch."

"The plants?"

"This place is stuffy without them."

"And the cleaning?"

"I don't like the way the staff cleaned our house."

He stared at you, those gorgeous garnet eyes of his looking at you with a mix of adoration and complete and utter confusion. He blew a breath.

"I was overthinking, then."

"You think so much all the time, I'm surprised it's taken you this long to short circuit."

"I didn't short circuit."

"You don't have access to seeing your expressions, darling."

You laughed when he pinched your sides before your hands slip up and cupped his face. "I love you, you know that?"

"I know." His voice dropped down an octave as he trailed open mouthed kisses from your shoulder to your neck. "I guess that's why you're making me insane."

You snorted. "You never needed my help with that, dumbass."

He nipped your neck, nuzzled. "I love you, too."

"Mm." But you took his hand, pressed it to your stomach, stared deep into his eyes. "Do you want to have children with me, Sy?"

Your eyes were impossibly deep that he couldn't look away. Couldn't even think of attempting it.

"Yes."

Straightforward as ever, Sylus is. You blew a breath.

Swung your legs over him and straddled him in one swift move.

"Maybe we can start trying now, then?"

-0-

this has been running in my brain for days and i just had to write it asfsdg

check out my other sylus fluff fic!

and another sylus fic but with a cat :>

[thebibliosphere]

Tw: almost dying, muscle spasms, seizures and weird body fuckery.

I just had my second ER trip of the month. I thought the amitriptyline was making my heart weird in a non-POTSy way and I had a feeling that something was just wrong. So I woke Mothman up and asked him to take me to the ER.

Which is just as well because as soon as we got there I started experiencing uncontrollable muscle spasms and my resting heart rate shot up to 150.

The triage nurse bolted me through the corridors into a room of about four doctors and seven nurses. The rest is a blur but I remember crying for Mothman because I couldn't see him past the wall of medical people around me.

Turns out I was extremely hypocalcemic, as in my blood results for my ionized calcium levels were so low it was a medical emergency. If I’d stayed home and assumed my rapid heart was from POTS I likely would have had a seizure or possibly a heart attack.

The doctor in charge told me he’d only ever seen the spasmodic movements I was making in textbooks before, but it was so distinctive he knew right away it was hypocalcemia. Blood tests confirmed it. My serum levels were “normal” but my ionozed levels were virtually zero.

Also, my thyroid is shot. I need to get more tests done. Possibly linked to the hypocalcemia. Possibly why my migraines have been so bad. Basically it was the b12 fiasco all over again. All my test results looked normal until I almost died

Again.

Anyway. I’m home now after being given a massive dose of IV calcium and a ton of othe meds. Sadly, I’m not allowed to take the amitriptyline anymore, at least until we’ve figured out my thyroid and why my calcium was so low while still appearing normal. Thankfully I was only on it for a week at a very low dose so the side effects of coming off it cold turkey shouldn't be too bad. I’m dreading the head pain returning. But who knows, maybe the massive dose of calcium will help with that. Keep your fingers crossed for me, eh?

I’m going to try and sleep.

Or just stare into the void for a bit. Haven’t decided yet.

[gallavichsreddie1128]

In the back of the Honda (Deadpool)

Description: Y/N and Wade fuck in the back of the Honda

Warning: Smut

Word Count: 1,346k

Request: can we have a deadpool smut in the suit ?

Being in the void with Wade and Logan wasn’t so fun after all. Y/N thought that they would be a good team and could take on the world but she was wrong. All they kept doing was fighting and it was starting to piss her off. At first it was funny but now? After dealing with Nova, it was annoying. “Guys can you be serious for once?” She asked but they ignored her. Logan seemed to hate Wade’s guts especially after hearing that the promise Wade made was bullshit and that it wasn’t guaranteed to save his universe.

He said some pretty hurtful things but Y/N got his pain. “Y/N my dear, step out of the car.” He told her while staring at Logan through the mask. She didn’t question it and got out just for a fight to break out moments later. Wade and Logan flew out of the car multiple times and she looked unimpressed each time. She just wanted to be home with Wade but of course this happened. “Alright!” She yelled walking back up to the car. “Stop fighting!” She yelled and they both looked at her.

“I’m so sick of this! We need to come up with a plan instead of violence.” Being the voice of reason wasn’t easy when it came to these two. “You’re right.” Logan said and Wade agreed. Y/N smiled at the two, happy that she got her way. She turned around for a second and a fight broke out again. “WADE!”

Y/N yawned as she got up and realized that they weren’t in the Honda anymore but in a cabin? She looked over to see Logan drinking and Wade was still asleep. “Hey babe, wake up .” She shook him. “Thor!” She looked at him confused, “Were you dreaming about Thor?” She asked with a laugh.

“No. Maybe I- Where are we?” He asked, looking around. “I don’t know but I like it.” Logan smirked, holding up the liquor. Y/N got off the bed to examine the place. Wade followed her until he got knocked down by some woman. Y/N stepped back and saw who it was. Elektra. Her eyes widened and Wade got up. Blade had walked in next and then some random foreign guy. “The Gambit.” His accent was hot. “Who is this fine lady?” He asked walking up to Y/N. Wade had stepped in front of her, “Listen here friendo she is mine, okay?” Y/N chuckled at his jealousy and pushed him aside to shake the guy’s hand. “Y/N and yeah he’s my boyfriend.” Wade smiled under his mask at her words. X23 came out and it was Logan’s daughter which should have been emotional but since Logan doesn’t know her, it’s not? 

“Well we came out alive.” Y/N said and shivered at the memory of Nova’s fingers in her head. The others figured after hearing that, that they should give it a shot besides Logan. “You’re all fucking dead.” He said and though Y/N agreed with him, they couldn’t stay there forever. 

Y/N and Wade sat in the Honda as Logan talked to Laura. “Beautiful isn’t it?” He asked. “What is? The Honda?” Y/N knew that Wade hated this car and the fact that it’s all they have made it kinda funny. “Yeah, I mean it fucks hard.” Y/N looked at him, confused. “Fucks hard?” He nods and turns to her, “Watch this.” He said and got in the backseat.

He spread himself out and patted his lap. She felt herself get wet at that and climbed to the back with him. “Get on my lap kitten. Daddy’s gonna show you why this car fucks hard.” He told her and she did. His hands traveled up her body and to her tits, giving them a squeeze.

He watched her lightly gasp and closed her eyes. His hands moved down to her ass and he slapped it hard. “Fuck.” She groaned but loved it. His hands moved to her front and slipped in her leggings, “No panties you naughty girl.” He says and runs a finger over her clit. He didn’t take off his gloves so the feeling was new but she liked it. “Wade fuck.” She whined as his movements sped up on her pussy. His other hand sneaks in her leggings and circles her hole, “You are soaked, baby girl.” Even through the glove he could tell.

“Wade please.” She begged him and he stuck a finger in her tight pussy. He chuckled at the sound of her wet pussy. She threw her head back as he started to finger fuck her. One finger wasn’t enough so he added another. “Look at you, my pretty girl. All fucked out from just my fingers.” His words made her moan and she bucked her hips. His fingers were at a brutal pace now.

He slipped his hand that was rubbing her clit all the way up to her mouth. Her lips closed around his gloved fingers and sucked all her juices off it while moaning. “That’s a pretty girl.” He says and her hips start fucking his fingers. He was bold enough to add another finger in her causing her to nearly scream. He chuckled and removed his fingers from her mouth before going down to rub her clit again.

His glove was wet with her salvia and she whined at the feeling. It wasn’t too long before her pussy was fluttering on his fingers, “Are you close?” He asked and she nodded. She couldn’t form words besides his name. Her breathing turned to panting and she felt herself right on the edge when Wade stopped. He pulled his hands out of her leggings and she glared at him.

“We are making this car rock baby girl.” He tells her and pulls down his pants. She manages to remove her leggings and gets back on his lap. “Are you removing the mask?” She asked him and he shakes his head, “I’ve always wanted to fuck you in this suit.” He states and pulls her down so that his dick is right at her hole. “Oh fuck I can feel you dripping on me.” She smirks and slowly takes him in. He sucks in a breath and she gasps as he stretches her out.

“You look so beautiful taking my cock.” He says and she fully sits in his lap. His hands go to her hips and he slowly drags her on his cock. “Mmmm Wade.” She moans as he moves her on him. The pace was brutally slow so she started bouncing on him, actually making the car move. “Fuck yeah baby. Ride my cock.” He says and she moans. One of his hands moves up her shirt to one of her nipples.

She gasps at the feeling of him playing with it and throws her head back, “Shit. Wade, that’s gonna make me cum.” She warned and her pussy started fluttering around his dick. “Fuck sweetheart. You doing that’s gonna make me explode.” He breathed out. “Doggy style?” She asked and got off him. They quickly got in the position.

He slides himself back inside of her and she moans. He doesn’t waste time and starts fucking her again. His hands on her hips and hers gripping the car seat. The car was hot and the window’s became foggy. She placed one of her hands on the window as he never stopped ramming into her.

“Wade, I'm close again.” She warned and her breathing got heavier again. “Trust me baby. I can feel it.” He groaned and slapped her ass. She cried his name at that and he chuckled, “Cum for me baby.” He said and her eyes rolled back. A silent scream left her mouth as she felt herself cream his dick. “I’m cumming, fuck.” Wade whined as his hips stilled and his cum mixed with hers. “Mmmm fuck.” She said as he pulled out. She turned around and collapsed on the seat with him. She turns to look at him and smiles, “You’re right. The Honda Odyssey does fuck hard.”