#once again please let me know if there’s any spoilers tags I missed

[only-lonely-www]

Bungou ch 117 spoilers

Wowww they’re killing all my favorite characters 😐how cool 😐 love this manga 😐

[acourtofquestions]

Golden flame danced between her fingers.

Elide recoiled, and the fire vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

"My name is Essar," the female said softly. "I am a friend--of your friends, I believe."

Elide said nothing.

"Cairn is a monster," Essar said, taking a step closer. "Stay far from him."

"I need to find him."

"You played the part of his mistreated lover well enough. You have to know something about him. What he does."

"If you know where he is, please tell me." She wasn't above begging.

Essar ran an eye over Elide. Then she said, "He was in this city until yesterday. Then he went out to the eastern camp." She pointed with a thumb over a shoulder. "He's there now."

"How do you know?"

"Because he's not terrorizing the patrons of every fine establishment in this town, glutting himself on the coin Maeve gave him when he took the blood oath."

Elide blinked. She had hoped some of the Fae might be opposed to Maeve, especially after the battle in Eyllwe, but to find such outright distaste...

Essar then added, "And because my sister--the soldier you spoke with--told me. She saw him in the camp this morning, smirking like a cat."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Because you are wearing Lorcan's shirt, and Rowan Whitethorn's cloak. If you do not believe me, inform them who told you and they will." Elide cocked her head to the side.

Essar said softly, "Lorcan and I were involved for a time."

They were in the midst of war, and had traveled for thousands of miles to find their queen, and yet the tightness that coiled in Elide's gut at those words somehow found space. Lorcan's lover. This delicate beauty with a bedroom voice had been Lorcan's lover.

"I'll be missed if I'm gone for too long, but tell them who I am. Tell them that I told you. If it's Cairn they seek, that is where he shall be. His precise location, I don't know." Essar backed away a step. "Don't go asking after Cairn at other taverns. He isn't well regarded, even amongst the soldiers. And those who do follow him... You do not wish to attract their interest."

Essar made to turn away, but Elide blurted,

"Where did Maeve go?"

Essar looked over her shoulder. Studied her.

The female's eyes widened. "She has Aelin of the Wildfire," Essar breathed.

Elide said nothing, but Essar murmured, "That was... that was the power we felt the other night." Essar swept back toward Elide. Gripped her hands. "Where Maeve went a few days ago, I don't know. She did not announce it, did not take anyone with her. I often serve her, am asked to... It doesn't matter. What matters is Maeve is not here. But I do not know when she will return."

Relief again threatened to send Elide crumpling to the ground. The gods, it seemed, had not abandoned them just yet.

But if Maeve had taken Aelin to the outpost where they'd lied that the Valg prince had been contained...

Elide gripped Essar's hands, finding them warm and dry. "Does your sister know where Cairn resides in the camp?"

For long minutes, then an hour, they had talked.

Essar left and returned with Dresenda, her sister. And in that alley, they had plotted.

Elide finished telling Rowan, Lorcan, and Gavriel what she'd learned. They sat in stunned silence for a long minute.

"Just before dawn," Elide repeated. "Dresenda said the watch on the eastern camp is weakest at dawn. That she'd find a way for the guards to be occupied. It's our only window."

Rowan was staring into the trees, as if he could see the layout of the camp, as if he were plotting his way in, way out.

"She didn't confirm if Aelin was in Cairn's tent, though," Gavriel cautioned. "Maeve is gone--Aelin might be with her, too."

"It's a risk we take," Rowan said. A risk, perhaps, they should have considered.

Elide glanced to Lorcan, who had been silent throughout. Even though it had been his lover who had helped them, perhaps guided by Anneith herself. Or at least had been tipped off by the scent on Elide's clothes.

"You think we can trust her?" Elide asked Lorcan, though she knew the answer.

Lorcan's dark eyes shifted to her. "Yes, though I don't see why she'd bother."

"She's a good female, that's why," Rowan said.

At Elide's lifted brow, he explained, "Essar visited Mistward this spring. She met Aelin." He cut a glare toward Lorcan. "And asked me to tell you that she sends her best."

Elide hadn't seen anything that came close to pining in Essar's face, but gods, she was beautiful. And smart. And kind. And Lorcan had let her go, somehow.

[seelestia]

⟡ within your waking thoughts (there i’ll be).

⎯ what do they do when they miss you? how do they cope with yearning when you're away? { y for yearning ノ ordered by @floraldresvi! (sorry for the ping!) }

RESERVED FOR! ノ characters. aventurine, sunday, dr. ratio ft. gn!reader. { 1.3k words }

FLAVOR! ノ genre. fluff, slight angst (my apology to sunday lovers yet again), established relationship.

TOPPINGS! ノ tags. aventurine has his tech savvy moment, pre-2.2 sunday (heavy references but no spoilers), ratio has two phones (king of separating work & personal life !!!).

BAKER’S NOTE! ノ thoughts. a repost! bcs tumblr didn't like it the first time. hopefully, this one will be here to stay. thank u to vivi for requesting this ‹3

© seelestia on tumblr, may 2024. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own.

in your absence, aventurine welcomes little thoughts of you that float around his mind with open arms - and the way he indulges them is by simply texting you. effective and efficient, there is a reason why the cosmos calls it the second most used means for long distance communication. what about the first? well, he would've opted for calling you with his earpiece if only his line of work doesn't require 90% of its usage time.

let's just say the idea of fellow stonehearts interrupting his conversation with you ruins the fun. besides, he has deft fingers; coin tricks aren't the only thing in his book, you know, typing a few sentences in one go is no problem at all.

but maybe, he is using that too much to his advantage . . . considering the “25+” staring back at you from your notifications every few hours or so. aventurine is truly, irrevocably relentless.

anything even remotely in your favorite color found within his vicinity? new message: Saw something that reminded me of you, you must really like crossing my mind.

an item he thinks would fit you well? new message: I got you a gift. Does it suit your fancy? [1 attachment]

reminded of how cruel fate is to separate you two for so long? new message: Haven't seen your face in a while. Fifteen hours are a total too cruel, don't you agree?

have faith that you will never grasp the true meaning of boredom when you’re apart from him. luck follows a man like aventurine, so do interesting events - remember how he won a vacation to a resort with one chip? he revels in telling you stories of his encounters while you're away. it is as if thrill revolves around him constantly. . . one wonders just how he fares living on the edge of it all.

(you, for one, are aware of his ways. he has allowed you to wander far enough behind his masquerade, after all.)

of course, texts on an illuminated screen can barely compare to seeing you in person. he prefers having you in his arms instead - but he'll live. solitude is an old friend of his, albeit distant and cold, aventurine can deal with its company every once in a while. at the end of the day, he knows you’ll be there when he comes home.

though, it's such a shame he cannot see your face when you're apart. the curve of your lips as you smile, the twinkle in your eyes with his reflection in them, and. . . ah, seems like he is making this harder for himself. maybe, he should consider buying that HD holographic communicative device on the market? his ears caught wind of some P45 officers at pier point whispering about it before.

it'll cost a large sum of credits but hey, he thinks it'll be worth it. for you? anything is possible.

(...him? clingy? well, guilty as charged.)

sunday’s self-discipline is not something to be underestimated. halovians are a species known for their enchanting voices, yet he feels as if he cannot spare any for even his inner thoughts. what an irony. his longing for your presence is persistent, tumbling at the edge of his tongue - but he is equally as, if not more, stubborn and so he swallows this yearning down instantly.

you are not confined to the dreamscape like he is, as self-imposed as that may be. sunday is aware of that, hence his first instinct is to keep quiet. the curse of sealing his lips till forevermore; watching you leave through the grand doors, letting his gaze fall to where your shadow used to be, savoring the last of your remaining fragrance from when you last bade him goodbye - all without a word.

(don't go, he wished he could say.)

is it a bad habit? “your voice shouldn't be used just to utter words that others want to hear,” you reminded him once. “it's also for you. it's yours.”

but even then, your words are akin to a faint whisper; muffled by the thoughts that plague his mind like a mist. he can't help how they fog up his reflection in the mirror, leaving remnants of something acrid that wafts in the air. something like doubts, sunday would know because he has dwelled in it for as long as he remembers.

you are outside, fluttering your wings in the sky and enjoying what it has to offer. does he have any rights to disturb you? perhaps, in his eyes, sunday views himself as a string tied around your talon, trailing all the way from the heavens where you soar to the humble ground where he resides. each time your absence compels him to reach out, it is as if he’s tugging on that string and dragging you lower from the height you truly relish in, from the height you deserve to be at.

(sunday believes that you belong to the sky, unlike him.)

so here, he shall stay and here, he shall wait until you return. sunday’s heart begins to grow cold - but the farewell kiss you've left on the apple of his cheek hasn't faded. its warmth remains, even when he brushes his freezing hand against it, it remains.

you remain.

(and that is enough for him.)

dr. ratio is a man with a packed schedule, so it's safe to say he keeps himself occupied particularly well. tasks at the intelligentsia guild are nothing short of demanding, after all. there are researchers asking for his input left and right, although some tremble while speaking to him even when he hasn't even uttered a word yet. ignoring that, he also aids in projects that require his expertise. last but not least, his students and classes which he takes very seriously.

(but be careful with how you phrase it — the doctor doesn't view them as distractions, no, he sees them as his responsibilities — saying the former might offend him.)

as you can see, he is perfectly capable of spending time away from you. . . .or at least, until it's time for a break and a part of that perfection chips off.

his office is quite tranquil, free from outside noise, just the way he likes. this place bears a similar purpose as his headgear, to let him focus in silence without disturbance - but he hasn't expected that exact silence to be this deafening. hah, how absurd! in what realm of possibility could silence ever be associated with deafening as an adjective? he supposes it could be a case of tinnitus. . . but veritas knows that isn't the case.

something's missing and it is, much to his dismay, you.

veritas has his standards. he prefers things to be set at a specific level - and this level of silence, one marred further by your lack of presence, is too low for him. he's getting too used to seeing you barge into his office with neatly packed sandwiches in your hands, a revelation he'd rather keep to himself.

veritas reaches for his personal phone, his work one left neglected at the far end of the desk. he considers making a call to you but the clock is ticking. tick tock tick tock, as if to hang the fact that his break is reaching its end over his head.

utilizing whatever time he has left, his finger gives the gallery app a tap. various pictures pop up on the screen; selfies of you with silly expressions, candid shots of veritas himself and some photos of random objects like your matching mugs. all of these were taken by you, of course. seriously, is this his phone or is it yours?

who knows at this point? he nearly lets out a snort, but that smile on his face is fooling no one. the doctor continues scrolling through his gallery, utterly content with just this until he gets home. to you.

(yes, yes, this still counts as keeping himself occupied. thank you for your concern.)

— thank you for reading! reblogs with comments are most appreciated.

[anundyingfidelity]

HAPPY MISTAKE — Logan Howlett

Summary: Not ever, through all the years of your life, you found someone like Logan. Since he arrived at the school, something brought you together like a magnet. Sadly, not everything came out as you wished it would be. Time is not gentle with mutants, and you try so hard to show him your unconditional love before everything is over, but can you finally accept your feelings for each other? Or yours and Logan's tumultuous relationship through the years.

(PART ONE → PART TWO) | GEN MASTERLIST!

Pairing: Logan x mutant!female!reader.

Word count: 9.6k.

Warnings: slow burn, breaking up(?)/making up, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, eventual smut and unprotected everything, language, character death, time travel, Logan hurting reader unintentionally, wounds and blood. Logan being a whore for both Jean Grey and the reader. Reader has slow aging as Logan and looks around mid 30s in my head. Anthropology teacher!reader. Reader can manipulate light (just like Starlight from The Boys). This takes place between different movies from the franchise, from X-Men 1 to DoFP, so spoilers of the movies ahead.

Notes: Long time no write. Life is horrible but somehow I managed to get this in like two months. I love Logan so fucking much now you don't have an idea. This was also written with Happy Mistake by Lady Gaga in mind. If you'd like to be tagged in the second part let me know or let me know your thoughts on this, it's very much appreciated! I suffered a lot writing it .

𝒊𝒇 𝒊 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒇𝒊𝒙 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒊'𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆.

—

2000

“Need any help?”

Logan stopped on his tracks from wandering around the cozy, yet strange place he woke up in. Turning on his feet, he saw your figure standing in the middle of the hallway. He said nothing, but you approached him as you had known him for a very long time.

“I assume you’re the new guy-”

“Where is she?” Logan abruptly interrupted once you stood inches away from him.

“Rogue? She’s fine. And you need to take a little rest.”

“I don’t need medical attention,” he said, looking around to search for a nearby exit. Before he walked away you took his arm in a soft grip.

He was, as much as you could tell, surprised by your boldness. You gave him no time to process his next movements once you talked again, your voice firm and welcoming in a way he had never felt before.

“Please, you need to meet Professor Xavier,” you said. “At least before you go. It’s totally fine if you wanna leave, I don’t recommend it though, but we can offer you a safe place here. We are just like you.”

Logan’s hardened expression relaxed for a moment, sensing no threat coming from you. All he saw in your eyes wasn’t pity, nor anger at him being kind of an asshole at first. It was just authority, the good kind where he also had something to say and decide about.

“Whatcha say, Logan?”

He was so immersed in his thoughts before you called his name, thinking it sounded beautiful falling off your lips. You gave him a half smile as he took in each detail of your face, as if he was memorizing every part of it.

It was the first time someone had been nice to him and it felt strangely good.

For some reason, it felt very good coming from you.

—

Logan just found out from the Professor’s mouth the mansion was a school for mutants. Gifted people, he called them. After learning another powerful mutant was behind him and Rogue, he had no other choice but accept the shelter. He didn’t like the other guys better, playing the teacher with a bunch of teenagers with special or cursed abilities. But besides Storm and Jean, you were the person who had welcomed him the most, even showing him the place and the room he would stay in.

One late night, you sat at the dining table together. Logan was silently drinking a beer outside school hours so the kids wouldn’t see him, and you, reading a bunch of papers from your students that you were missing. He realized how hard you worked, how you would praise your students, how you talked to them outside classes, being the one to actually convince Rogue to enroll in the school. Immediately, he knew you were really something, having much more in common than he thought. And you, living for so long, being both a mutant and a lady for sure had a hard life through time.

“What you teach again?” he suddenly asked, breaking the comfortable silence you shared.

“Anthropology,” you answered, giving him a short glance. “I took this at college a long time ago, and I’ve been alive long enough to know a thing or two,” you explained, putting away a paper after putting an A+ on it proudly. “It’s important to understand ourselves, humankind and mutants… It’s a diverse world and there are lots of cultures, languages and societies we don’t get to know, but it’s beautiful. I think I like to celebrate what makes us unique. I've had the chance to study some of them around the world since I had the time, y’know, and it’s truly amazing. It’s a shame we have to fight between us to make us heard when we could just be kind and empathetic to each other… Sorry, you didn’t ask but, y’know, anyway.”

You shook your head with a curve on your lips, going back to the next paper. Logan had taken the sparks in your eyes as you talked. He half smiled to himself once you buried yourself in your papers again, thinking you sounded just like Professor Xavier. No wonder why he took you in. Probably, if things were different for him, he would’ve found something that could light his face with so much passion just like you did.

“Been alive for almost two hundred years,” Logan said and you looked up to him. “We might have things about the past to share,” he drank from his beer. It was your turn to smile back at him.

“Yeah, well, I’ve lived both horrible but nice things. Couldn’t read or do math without being called a witch,” you chuckled to yourself, but hiding on the inside the awful experiences you had to endure. “Someday, we could go out and grab a coffee or something,” you said with a playful smile.

A light chuckle left your lips, but you and him knew it wasn’t just a joke.

He joined you with a warm smile that lit up his face before disappearing from his lips. “Of course. Count me in.”

—

The sun was shining bright and the weather was great that morning. Some of the students were in the yard playing, having some quality time, and others simply just left to go to the town. It was a good weekend before the next semester started, and it was better now knowing Magneto had been taken to prison after his failed attempt to use Rogue for his plans.

Sipping on your coffee, you saw the students outside. Laughing, running, having a good breakfast picnic. It felt heartwarming just taking this sight, wishing it would always be like this. Your mindful peace was interrupted when Logan entered the kitchen to have a coffee on his own. Visibly, you tensed just a little when he approached you and sat right in front of you at the dining table. The caffeine was not helping at all, you thought.

“Morning,” he greeted you, noticing something was off on you, but hoping it would pass. Maybe you already knew.

“Morning…” your voice came out as a whisper. “How you feeling?”

“Better. What about you?”

You gave a small nod. “Good, thanks for asking.”

A silence fell upon you. Not like the ones you used to share in lonely nights where you prepared your classes and Logan just sat down calmly because he couldn’t sleep. This time it was different. Words won’t come out of your mouth to ask what was really bothering you. You had grown up to like Logan and enjoy his company, but he had a lot of walls upon him, protecting himself of the world and people around him.

However, you understood why he did it. You both have been alive longer than anyone else. You saw people you love dearly dead, being killed because of your flaws. And you really connected to his idea of protecting people by leaving their side. It was better being away. That was until Professor Xavier recruited you. Here, you had a purpose and you helped young people to become the best versions of themselves. You wished Logan could do the same, stay and see he was more of what he thought of himself, but it wouldn’t happen. Right? He had things to sort out on his own.

“Are you leaving soon?”

When you asked the question, Logan knew you had heard something from the Professor. He gave you a nod.

“I need to reconnect with who I was,” he simply answered.

“Right… Wish you all the best there.”

Logan had grown to like you over the past few weeks you shared, exchanging experiences and lessons of life you had taken through the years. For a moment, he looked right into your eyes and smiled. He weirdly smiled, and you could swear he’d miss you too once he is away.

But that warm feeling soon faded away once Jean walked into the kitchen, saying good morning and beaming to the both of you. Logan followed her with his gaze, straightening himself on his seat as she served her own breakfast and an extra plate that you already knew was for Scott. She also began putting fruits and snacks inside a picnic basket while looking all happy and settled, and you knew why Logan had fallen in love with her. It was all over his face.

And you wondered how could he act and talk to you so kindly and sweet, and then look at Jean like that. It was a pain in your heart you tried to dissipate. Everyone knew Jean and Scott were a couple, and the fact that Logan had a not so secret crush on her really played on you. It made you feel like a fool and you had too many heartbreaks and hurted people, putting them in danger due to your mutation, to take initiative and start a relationship - or anything of the sort - again.

Scott made his way inside the kitchen, saying hi to both of you - mostly you. And took the tray with their plates as Jean grabbed the basket, but she let Scott leave the kitchen before.

“Have a good trip, Logan,” she said kindly. “I hope to see you around here soon.”

“Thank you, Jean.”

She smiled one last time before leaving you all alone, Logan following her with his eyes. Just for a second, you wished he could see you like that underneath his facade.

—

You had packed your stuff later that day, deciding a little air and a change for one night would do no wrong. Just as you were walking to the main door, Rogue was saying her goodbyes to Logan after giving him a small hug without really touching him. It was a cute sight how Rogue was able to step into his cold heart. She said goodbye to you as well before leaving the entrance.

“You’re going away too?” Logan asked, rather surprised as you both walked through the door, the sun hitting your skin as soon as you were out of the mansion. He knew your life was at the school.

“Just for the weekend,” you shrug it off.

Logan gave you a nod with a warm smile. “Then have a good trip and enjoy yourself.”

“Thanks. I hope you find what you’ve been looking for.”

“I hope so too,” Logan answered and before he went to take Scott’s bike, he looked at you hesitantly for a couple of seconds. “We should go out and grab some coffee once I’m back.”

Your lips formed a wide smile. “That sounds really nice.”

For a moment, where time felt like hours and not seconds, you stood right out the door, looking at each other. You wanted him to go first, but he was waiting for you to say something. Probably to ride the bike with him, he could leave you somewhere near your destination and feel you close - just be around you for at least five more minutes. But none of that ever happened.

Instead, you studied his face, looking at his deep eyes, and then his lips - those lips you wanted to kiss so bad before, but never had the courage to do so. You didn’t think further, and if something had taken possession over you, you leaned towards him leaving a short, sweet kiss on the corner of his lips.

“Take care,” you mumbled once you pulled away.

Not waiting for his answer, you turned back, pulling your bag to your side stronger than ever and walked the path to the front gates, feeling his gaze all over you until you left the mansion.

He felt such an idiot for not kissing you properly.

—

2003

‘I know what I want, but what do you want?’

Mystique’s words echoed through his head. Logan left the tent so long ago he didn’t know what time it was anymore and the situation kept repeating again and again in his mind. The woman had shifted between Jean, Ororo, and you. The one that icked him the most being Rogue once Mystique had taken her figure in. Storm was a good colleague, Jean was a forbidden love, Rogue was like his little sister, someone he would protect as long as he could, and you… you were a different case. When Mystique was about to kiss him wearing your figure, he finally realized he started feeling things he had prohibited himself for a very long time, and he thought he shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t.

Once or twice you shared experiences about love and partners, but he could tell it hurted you the same way as him. He couldn’t burden breaking your heart, or worse, getting you hurt because of what he was. Logan knew you had the same bad luck in the past, but it didn’t stop any of you to pull towards each other like a magnet.

‘Living for so long does things to you, Logan. I feel we become more aware of what we are.’

Those words you said to him one time remained in his head like a warning, and he took it personally.

Closing his eyes, he leaned against a hard tree trunk some feet away from the tents where the rest of the X-Men rested. He tried to find some peace alone for a few moments when the sounds of steps approaching alerted his senses. Claws out and ready to attack, he spun around the trunk only to stop in a second.

There you were, a bright light emanating from your hand to illuminate your path in the darkness of the woods.

“Logan?”

Quickly, he withdrew his claws and his body relaxed visibly. “Sorry,” he apologized, leaning against the tree one more time.

“Are you okay?” you asked, but you already knew the answer. The exhausted sigh he let out told you everything you needed. You let the soft glow of light floating between you and him, to illuminate both of you under the branches. “You wanna talk?”

He slowly shook his head, mumbling ‘no’. He became startled in the light floating like a firefly, letting his own issues wash away with your sole company. Ironically, everything that was troubling him was you. Softly, you caressed his arm, taking him out of his own thoughts. Your touch didn’t help his poor mind either.

Looking worried about the next mission in Lake Alkali, you feared for him and your team. And your lack of sleep was showing it. But just like Logan, the growing feelings were troubling your head. You had seen him talking with Jean earlier when you landed in the forest - talking too close to your liking once he pulled her for a kiss. But what could you do? Logan was still after Jean even when she had already declined him countless of times, and it didn’t really hurt you. It just felt strange inside. Why would he do that while still being nice to you, quitting being a dick when he wanted because he knew you’d snap back at him. And to be honest, Logan looked as if he liked that about you. But he won’t admit it out loud, and of course, you wouldn’t ask. Men were so damn complicated.

“Well, I only expect things to not get worse…” you finally said in a soft whisper since he wasn’t talking and you stopped your head going further on the matter. And you knew he wouldn’t talk soon either. “And you’re brave for seeking your past.”

Logan locked his eyes with your own, under the soft light. Your tired gaze, your figure, your aura pulling him like he found a treasure in an abandoned cave… He felt so bad for falling for someone like you, who was nothing compared to the crap he was. And then, for the first time in years, he decided to follow his instinct with you.

He leaned towards your figure, his rough hand cupping your cheek gently before pulling you in for a kiss. With a soft sigh you corresponded, your arms around his neck as it turned deeper and harsher. Logan lifted you easily from the ground, your legs tangling around his waist until you felt your back against a rough surface, trapped between the trunk and his body. Soft moans and grunts mingled, your chest pressing against his own, his hips grinding against your crotch. It was obvious you wanted this. Logan desired you so painfully after that day you kissed him goodbye at the mansion, he needed your body and soul. But you had to have answers before giving into the heat of the moment.

Pulling away, you broke the kiss, your forehead resting against his own as you tried to catch your breath. Logan tried to taste you once again, but you placed two of your fingers on his swollen lips.

“Why’d you kiss her?”

He remained silent, brows furrowed and eyes blown in lust. You didn’t make any effort to pull him away. He still had you between his legs, asking a simple question he had no response for.

“We’re adults here, Logan. Just wanna know why before we go further.”

Logan started to remember. He vividly heard Jean and Mystique voicing out and asking the right question.

‘Girls flirt with the bad guy. They take the good guy home.’

‘What do you want?’

“Do you really want me?” he asked in return.

You lifted an eyebrow at his sudden question. “And do you?”

He leaned again for a kiss on your lips, and thankfully for him, you didn’t stop it. But he quickly pulled away and inhaled your sweet scent from the skin on your neck, leaving a path of soft pecks, until he nipped the shell of your ear softly. You shivered under his touch.

“I’d love to have you,” he whispered, softly caressing your cheek with his thumb.

“Come to my tent,” you mumbled. “Sleep with me. But like, seriously, sleep with me ‘cause I’m tired,” you chuckled, hoping to not kill the mood.

Logan smiled for a bit and nodded, pecking your lips one more time before helping you get on your feet on the muddy ground, hands rubbing your sides slowly.

“As long as I have you by my side it’s alright with me.”

—

Jean’s death was hard to swallow.

For weeks, students and teachers mourned her, and you felt sorry for Scott for losing his soulmate. Logan was not in the best shape either. He didn’t attend her funeral, he never had the guts to stand by her grave either, until now. You stopped right behind him and noticed him sighing, under the afternoon sunset. He was tense because of everything, but when you took his hand out of the pocket of his jacket, he held onto you. Your fingers intertwined together, feeling his life depending solely on you, like a rock he needed to support his whole weight.

The day was about to end, the sun slowly hiding, giving a beautiful painting of orange and purple in the sky. You thought it would soon become an intense thunderstorm due to Ororo’s mourn - something you had gotten used to the last few days.

“She saved us,” Logan barely mumbled, looking intensely at the grave.

You nodded, even if he could not see you. “Can’t blame her, I’d have done the same.”

Those words cause him to look back at you, wishing it’d be a lie. But inside, Logan knew you really had the guts to sacrifice yourself for others. It was something he remembered both of you talking about some time ago. And you would give everything in your hands to save the ones you love.

Quietly, Logan gave a last glance at Jean’s grave, and guided you inside the mansion. Classes barely started again due to the circumstances and a few kids could be seen around the halls. You accompanied him to the doors of his room, noticing you had been holding hands the whole time. Probably no one really cared, they were too busy trying to go through the grief of losing a loved one. Slowly, you broke the gesture, taking your hand away and Logan immediately missed the heat and comfort of your hand.

“Do you need anything?” you asked in a low voice.

Looking at you, Logan reminisced how you kissed in the woods, the need and lust for each other that couldn’t be. He did sleep in your tent that night, in the comfort of your arms, feeling the warmth of your skin. It was, probably, the first time he had a good, peaceful night of sleep in years. No one had brought that up, but he knew something was there. And he needed to act on it before it was too late.

So he brought up his hands to your face, cupping your cheeks lovingly before planting a kiss on your lips, not caring he was standing in the middle of the hallway where anyone could see what was going on. You leaned against his touch, deepening the kiss until you couldn’t catch a breath. When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead into yours, taking in the beauty of your bright eyes and swollen lips. Everything wandering his mind, making a path right into his cold heart was right in front of him.

“You.”

—

Knocking Professor Xavier's door, you walked inside as soon as his voice announced to come in. You caught your breath seeing Logan by his desk. He just gave you a quick, accomplice glimpse and left the room, closing the door behind. The exchange of glances wasn’t unnoticed by Charles.

“Here’s the report on my subject for this last semester, Professor,” you announced, leaving the folder on the wooden desk.

“Thank you. How’s Logan doing?” he asked all of a sudden, checking the door the man had crossed just seconds ago.

“Excuse me?”

“Do you believe he is comfortable helping the kids?” the old man asked again. He was seeing right through you, and you kind of hated every time he used to do that to you. Nothing could be hidden from Xavier; definitely you couldn’t hide a single thing for the man who took you in decades ago.

“Why would I know that?”

He shrugged it off. “Well, you seem very close lately.”

Close was not the best word to describe your relationship with Logan. Yet, you were sleeping on his bed just the night before. The trace of his kisses, the burn of his beard on your skin, his teeth biting softly your breasts, his rough hands all over your hips… Every touch he left on your body you could still feel it, and you wanted to think he was not just using you. During the past weeks, you were together. Not quite a relationship-thing was established properly, but it was the closest thing any of you could have as for now.

It was a mixture of grief, pain, and hope that had you both still standing. In the end, you understood what he felt. Being alone and alive for so long and then finding a place where people accepted you for who you were was a whole change, even if some years passed by. Though, the time Logan had been spending at the school was nothing but a blink of an eye compared to his past.

“What happened to our team is still affecting us,” you finally said. “I believe we are good friends, yes, we’ve been supporting each other. And he doesn’t know how to deal with the students yet most of the time, but I try to walk him through it.”

Xavier hummed, smiling at the corner of his lips as he eyed the folder you handed him. “I bet you both do.Thanks for bringing your report on time, as always, and I apologize if I am being intrusive. Just please be careful with the noises both of you make at night, we have kids around here.”

Shit.

You swallowed your pride right there and simply gave a nod, feeling the heat burning up your face.

“Will do, Professor.”

—

A loud gasp escaped your lips as you held for dear life on his broad shoulders, hips snapping against your own. His pace was reckless, keeping you on the edge of sin. Grunts mixed with sweet moans, skin hitting skin again and again every time you felt his cock inside you. If possible, your nails could have already left visible scars and marks on his back, scratching and bleeding off his skin as he fucked you senseless.

Logan sucked on the bare skin on your neck, inhaling your scent, feeling your walls clenching around his girth, his hands roughly grabbing the sides of your hips as you moaned his name, over and over, under the moonlight. He looked at you intensely with loving eyes when you came underneath him, eyes flashing that familiar bright light every time a powerful orgasm hit your body. The vulnerable sight of your figure shaking, eyes closing slowly and biting your lip to keep the pretty noises low, made him reach the sweetest high.

With a grunt, he leaned to attack your lips in a heated, wet kiss to moan against your mouth. Logan pulled back to press butterfly kisses on your jaw, until he reached your breasts, feeling himself soften inside your wet heat. His hips were still thrusting just enough to fill you up at a gentle rhythm. Marking you his and only his.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he mumbled against the sensitive skin of your chest. “Remind me why we’re here again.”

You chuckled softly, fingers tangling on his disheveled hair. You just had prepared a small date night out at the shores of a beautiful lake in the woods. No one could bother you if you were alone, and since your relationship was not so secret anymore, you needed him in a place that wasn’t the school. So here you were, laying on your back, fully naked on the picnic blanket, with the Wolverine between your legs, enjoying the calmness of the water, the green grass, the crickets singing around, and the cold of the night.

“Privacy perhaps?” you whispered as his eyes locked on yours.

Softly you touched his cheek with the palm of your hand and he rolled both of you over, until you laid on top of him, legs straddling his waist and your arms on his shoulders to sit on his lap. Silence took over, his hands soothing your hips and the marks he left on your body from the intense love-making.

“I’m so happy we took a couple of days off…”

You waited for Logan to say something. Anything. You wanted to continue, to tell him how you really felt. Instead, you decided it was better leaving it like this. Logan gave you a nod, pulling you for a short kiss.

“Yeah. Me too.”

He wanted to say it out loud, but was too scared to do so.

—

2006

After a couple of long years, the school and the team had to learn how to go through the grief and pain Jean left. Logan had a hard time processing it, just like all your teammates, specially Scott, and of course the students. It didn’t stop you from moving on as time went by though, always remembering her for the great person and mind she was. Going forward and keeping fighting is what she would’ve wanted for everyone, even now that a certain cure for mutants was announced to the public.

You tried to continue your life as a professor at the school, training students, leading young people, and you invited and encouraged Logan to do so countless times. Deep inside, you wished it was you the reason why Logan decided to stay and train young mutants - for you to be the answer to his loneliness. That he knew, for once and all, that he was not alone. You got each other, and you could do something about it. Words unspoken said more than anything, at least you thought so.

It was one of those rare nights where you got some time for yourselves, walking around the city after having a nice and calm dinner. Your shoulders brushed against each other while you walked downtown, your hands hiding inside the pockets of your jacket, protecting them from the cold.

There was a lot on your mind lately, thinking about what you two really were. If there was a stronger feeling in between, or if it was solely because he enjoyed your company and that was it. Both had lived enough to know there was a feeling in the middle. It wasn’t just friends with benefits, or co-workers who sleep together three times a week. Something was blooming deep inside you, but you tried to not give it a lot of attention all those years. Still, it felt like it had to be addressed sooner or later, and this could be the time. In the end, you understood each other perfectly. How painful it was, how living longer than anyone was, how you had to leave everything and everyone behind because you were dangerous…

“Have you ever wondered how’d it feel to have a normal life?” your question came out all of the sudden.

“How come?” He looked at you from the corner of his eye.

You didn’t know if his gaze was judging you but you continued anyway.

“Like living a normal amount of years… Not having these things, genes that make us different. Or special…”

Logan suddenly stopped in his tracks and grabbed your arm softly so you could lock eyes together as he asked. “You’re not thinking of getting that damn cure, aren’t you?”

“Of course not!”

“Then why’d you think that?”

“Because I never had anyone in my life, Logan,” you spat, pulling your arm away from his grip. “I’ve been alive for so long but I can’t promise myself a future. A real one. Not anything, it doesn’t matter if I live forever. Every person I loved before perished.”

Those words shook him out of the rough façade showing on his face. Your gaze told a hundred different stories when he studied your face every time. It was like mirroring himself at some point. You were the first person he ever got to know that has lived as long as he has, and maybe it was the sentimentalism, but he tried to push away those wishes of settling down. Of trying to be normal. Because he was not, and maybe, just maybe, you just didn’t accept it like he did. Probably, he was just giving up. But you weren’t, even after hundreds of years of disgrace continuously happening.

“I thought you’d get this, Logan.”

You mumbled, taking him out of his trance.

“Well, I do, in a way,” he said, but sounded more like an excuse for himself.

“Then why don’t you say it?”

“Wha-”

“Just say it,” you repeated and pointed between you and him. “What is this for you? What are we?”

Logan grabbed on your shoulders gently and leaned towards you, stealing a kiss on the sidewalk, a kiss you obliged with a bittersweet feeling for some reason, but then he whispered. “Darling, you’re everything to me now.”

Yet, you smiled and kissed him back, feeling his lips curve against your own. Well, that wasn’t so hard was it?

—

Needless to say, after the last date, your relationship with Logan had evolved to something more domestic, considering you lived together in your workplace. Affection, holding hands, quick kisses were shared now a little more freely, and you had received a couple of jokes and teases from some students and Storm. But it was fine as long as you had cleared your path with Logan, even if he didn’t act like a partner sometimes.

The certain calmness you felt one day disappeared when Logan and Ororo went to look for Scott, who often had these sad thoughts, and since Jean was his partner, it was thoroughly complicated for him to say the least. When Logan and Ororo came back to the mansion, it was not what you expected to see. Jean was alive and Scott was gone.

It hurted you, knowing first hand that their love wouldn’t be anymore. You met both of them when they were so young, becoming something like their mentor when they used to learn how to control their powers and how to fit in this world that loathed mutants to death. Now, the school was something else. It was a big, special place that was not the same without the brains of Jean, or the enthusiasm and leadership of Scott. Things were different, they had to change because the circumstances told so, and everyone had a difficult time adapting to it. One thing after another left you tired, with no option to run away, even if you wanted to. The complicated circumstances and the relationship you shared with Logan were no help either.

While on your way to check on Jean, who was still under observation after a couple of days, you stopped in your tracks when the heavy door of the med bay slid. Logan, looking all out of his daily self and mad, found you at the entrance, and you felt something different emanating from him.

For what you could see behind him, Jean was still asleep, and the Professor called Logan to come back with a serious voice, but he ignored the older man, instead approaching you.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Logan grasped your arm, his tone lower and deeper than usual.

You quickly pulled off his grip and hissed. “What are you talking about?”

“Jean.”

You felt silent. Of course she was anything he could think of since they found her.

“You knew he was controlling her,” Logan went on and your heart skipped a beat.

The look in your eyes told everything but lies. Logan scoffed and walked away, leaving you standing alone under Professor Xavier’s gaze.

“I’ll talk to him,” you mumbled at your mentor before following Logan, trying to keep his pace until he reached his room.

The whole way you tried to keep it professional, greeting students as normally you would, but when you crossed his door it was impossible to continue with the facade.

“Logan-”

“He’s insane,” he snapped, putting his jacket on and taking his bag out.

“Everything that was done was meant to protect her,” you responded calmly as he placed a handful of clothes inside the bag.

“No, you did it because you are disgusting. I bet this is what should’ve been for me if I refused to cooperate with your circus or something.”

“You don’t know what she is capable of-”

“Yeah, well I don’t wanna hear it anymore. This is so fucked up, even for you,” he continued, bag on his hand taking long strides until you were almost touching noses. 

You scoffed, trying to laugh at the irony. “What does that even mean? Do you know how horrible it is to be controlled by the Phoenix inside her?.”

Logan rolled his eyes, not wanting to hear another poor excuse. You continued anyway, looking straight in his eyes before he could leave you hanging with your own words. Exactly like he used to do every damn time when you had an argument. Today, he wouldn’t run away that fast.

“She could kill you in a second and won’t hesitate. For her, we’re nothing. We’re not rivals, we can’t do shit. The only thing we could do was keep her alter ego somewhere hiding inside her mind, or else we wouldn’t be here arguing about something you never witnessed. Because I did and you don’t wanna see that, trust me,” you spat at him. He breathed rage at your words and you knew that it was getting on his nerves seeing the way his hands turned to fists. “And you think this version of her cares for you? Or that she loves you? Jean is gone now, Logan, fucking get over it.”

With last harsh words, you turned around and left the room, closing the door with a thud. 

Logan breathed out. He wanted to scream, hit something, run away… Anything to let it out. He was a reckless mess but how could he react and accept Charles was playing with Jean’s mind? And you fucking knew all this time and didn’t say anything? Were his feelings dirty on him right now? Probably. Shit, he took years to finally tell you the truth about his love and affection towards you. He spent months trying to find the right words just to say ‘I love you’, and still, it seemed it wasn’t enough. The forbidden love he felt for Jean never disappeared, and he felt guilty for it.

—

You walked down to the med bay after calming down for a bit. You only needed to check on Jean for a moment and see how she was doing. Years prior, you had witnessed what the Phoenix was capable of, so you didn’t really question Charles’ methods when it came to hide this dangerous side of her inside her mind. You also thought your words might have been a little harsh on Logan, but it was the truth. He didn’t know who the Phoenix was and, if his feelings for Jean resurfaced after believing her being dead, then it wasn’t on you. As much as you loved him, as much as you tried and somehow managed to move on together, he was so easily dragged to her.

The anger you felt before took over you once again, as you found the metal doors of the lab in debris. Quickly, you made your way inside the room and found Jean wasn’t there and that Logan was lying unconscious on the floor. You knelt down by his side, calling him over and over and touching his face and shaking his shoulders until he finally opened his eyes slowly, coming back to reality.

“Logan, what happened?”

“She… she killed Scott. The Phoenix,” he whispered. You could tell he was a little weak and out of breath.

“You’re lucky she just ran away,” you pointed out, helping him to sit down. His eyes were lost in the mess in the room. Tools were destroyed, test tubes broken, crystal was everywhere, and Jean left the reminder of kissing him, yet again, before she escaped. God, he felt so idiotic.

“I’m sorry,” Logan said, looking at you. “Sorry for being a jerk. It’s my fault.”

Taking his cheeks between your hands, you gave him a reassuring look. “We’re gonna find her, okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah, we’ll find her.”

“Come here, we need to alert Charles,” you said, helping him to stand up.

Inside, you knew he wouldn’t really need your help. He was strong and indestructible like the metal on his skull, but he seemed really taken back, and you decided to stay by his side, holding his hand strongly as a way to say sorry as well. It was kind of difficult to see Logan in that state of mind, confused and lost, and you wondered what had happened back there in the lab as you left him in his bedroom, ordering him to rest for a while.

“I’ll be right back,” you assured him with loving eyes.

Logan nodded, following your figure stepping out the room and disappearing in the hallway.

He let out a breath he didn’t know was holding. His mind was having a hard time and his heart felt like breaking, going in two opposite directions, and he hated himself for that. His fate was always the same: losing people he loved and cared for dearly. So seeing Jean back again was as if god or anything up there remembered he existed and brought her back just for him. Or maybe he was just being selfish because he already had you.

You were everything for him. A couple of years might be just a short glimpse for both of you, but he was able to feel peace and calm next to you, and he was sure you did as well. Because some nights, that was all you could talk about. Logan didn’t mind hearing you for hours, it reminded him he was alive. With you, but his stupid instinct had to act.

It was his fault Jean had left. The kiss, the whole act of embracing each other’s bodies for at least two minutes, and then her breakdown, begging for him to kill her… All of that was enough to bring out the beast inside her. And he felt such a jerk now for following his desires. He already had you. Wasn’t that enough?

His thoughts were interrupted once you arrived again, finding him sitting at the end of the bed exactly as you had left him there. Sensing something different on him, you sat down by his side and rubbed his hand gently.

“We might know where she’s going,” you whispered.

“I’ll go,” Logan said before you could finish.

“I’m not sure if I should ask, but are you okay? You could do some rest,” you suggested, since seeing the redhead was clearly getting some kind of reaction from him.

“No, I need to go,” he said. But Logan could read your face perfectly, and he knew you didn’t really like the idea of him leaving the mansion. You turned your eyes, scanning the room and avoiding his gaze.

You had the need to ask what exactly had happened back there with Jean, but you didn’t want to start a fight either. Feeling Logan’s hand on your shoulder, he leaned to kiss your forehead goodbye. Maybe you were the one who should stay, check the kids, the school…

“It’ll be fine,” he mumbled, voice low and deep, as if trying to convince you, but himself as well. You nodded with your arms around his neck, giving him a hug that felt like some sort of apology you weren’t able to say out loud. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”

And how you’d wish things would be fine.

—

The school has been very quiet lately. Too silent even for his taste. At nights like these, he could still feel the vigor and presence of the students running around, grabbing something to eat, planning to go out for a while... Instead, Logan found himself in a place that was mourning. Grieving the loss of Jean, Scott and Charles.

The feelings inside were complicated. He didn’t really feel the same, and the disgrace and remorse of his actions were growing on him. They were still haunting him; every day, every single night. You knew it too. It was impossible to ignore the nightmares each time he woke up from seeing Jean’s lifeless body fall against his own after he gave what she wished for the most: death.

And then, there was you. He noticed how difficult it was getting for you to sleep. You tried to hide your sorrow into your work, studying even more, keeping yourself busy with the school and not thinking about anything else. Since Charles was gone, Ororo took his place and you were her second hand. But you pushed yourself too hard.

Tonight he found your bedroom empty. He didn’t find you on his either, so he went to the place he knew you would be: your classroom. The door was half opened, the dim light of the lamp on your desk barely illuminated the papers on the surface. He found you deeply concentrated reading on something, hands on the sides of your head hiding your face.

“Hey,” he softly mumbled, stepping inside the empty classroom.

You quickly straightened yourself on the chair, wiping your cheeks and tried to look decent for a moment.

“Hey,” you replied back, low voice.

“Come to bed,” he said, coming to stand before you, his hand on your shoulder comforting and soothing you, making its way to the side of your neck. His big palm on your cheek, caressing the skin stained with your tears as if it was the most delicate thing. He took a look at the mess of papers and old books you loved too much to get rid of, scattered on the wooden surface.

“No, I- I can’t. Need to finish these by tomorrow…”

Logan gave you a nod and a grimace before taking your hand, motioning to come closer. You stood up, knowing he was trying to get you out of the work that was consuming you.

He observed every feature on your face, the sadness in your stare couldn’t be hidden. He just knew you too well, just like the palm of his hand, and he wanted to make you forget. At least for a little. You had taken care of him, helped him with your presence and your unique aura, bringing him comfort and peace to his broken mind. He wanted you to be fine. To feel loved.

Logan leaned just exactly to brush his lips with your own, teasing a kiss that he longed too much, his hands around your waist pulling you towards him.

“Can you just let me take care of you?” 

Swallowing hard the knot on your throat, you curled your lips as much as the grief let you. “Yes,” you nodded.

With this, Logan leaned until your lips connected. Your arms around his neck pulled him as closer as you could get, feeling his chest against your own, his strong hands around your waist, softly touching you above your clothes.

Logan slowly walked you until your back hit the desk, hands roaming on your ass down to your legs, placing you to sit down over the loose pages. It might ruin the work a little, but none of you cared. Everything in your head was him, between your legs, running his wet mouth down your jaw, his stubble burning your skin as you gasped gently. Lying on your back on the desk, he began descending down your breasts, unbuttoning your blouse until he exposed you to the cold of the room.

He stopped right on your trousers, and gave you a quick glance. You were so eager, wet already. He could sense it. Your eyes were glowing and you were already trying to catch your breath by just his kisses and touch.

“You locked the door?” you whispered.

“Damn right I did,” he voiced, hoarse and low voice from just thinking of railing you right there and then.

“Then don’t stop.”

At your command, he unzipped your trousers, letting them fall down along with your heels on the floor. He then leaned to take your lips in a sloppy kiss, more urgent this time of feeling you close. You moaned, nails scratching his skin. His calloused hands explored your bare legs and things, creating friction with his hips with slow, controlled thrusts against your crotch. Logan left a trail of kisses down to your breasts, licking and tasting the saltiness of your body.

You urged him to go down where you ached the most, hand tangling on his hair. His hands grabbed the back of your thighs, spreading to him until his nose was almost buried on your panties, smelling and taking the sweetness of your scent, licking softly with his wet tongue over the fabric. A trail of moans and curses left your lips. He pulled your panties aside before diving in your pussy, licking your folds and teasing your hole with two of his fingers.

“Logan…”

His name repeatedly left your mouth like a plea, his fingers now inside you, stretching your walls for him. The noises grew obscene and nasty as he ate you out like a sweet craving he had been denying himself the pleasure for so long.

He was growing hard just by hearing your whimpers, and he needed you. You always were a fucking longing for him. Your words, your intelligence, your beauty… Everything he needed, you had it. And still, he didn’t have any idea of how such a rational, smart woman like you learned to love him so deeply.

You tugged on his hair, hips thrusting up to meet his growling mouth. You were so close, felt almost there where you wanted, but he pulled away before you finished.

Logan unzipped his jeans leaning back, admiring your blissed out eyes and glistened figure.

“Come here,” you begged in a whisper, tangling your legs around his waist.

He let out a low, dirty chuckle, feeling your hands on his boxers, freeing his erection.

“So fucking eager,” Logan breathed kissing your lips, hands supporting his weight at the sides of your head on the desk.

You tasted yourself within the kiss and you moaned at his words, your hand pumped him just enough to feel his pre cum leaking already, lining his dick with your cunt. Inch by inch, he entered slowly so you could get used to his size. Logan pecked your lips gently, kissing your cheeks and the side of your neck to get into your sensitive skin. You tugged on his white shirt so he could remove it and he ripped your bra apart right after. He loved to feel your chest pressed against his own. You gasped but paid no mind, instead urging him to move inside you.

“Shit, Logan please-”

A particular harsh trust caught your breath on your throat. You held onto dear life with your hands on his shoulders. He pounded into you rock hard and deep. So damn deep the desk was shrieking under, papers fell off and the lamp moved at the same rhythm but you hoped it won’t break.

Logan growled, inhaling your scent and tasting the sweat forming on your collarbone, your breasts bouncing against his chest. He felt your nails trailing down his back, and oh, how he wished he could get damn scars on just by fucking you like this. But the view of you, squirming under him, eyes closed, being a whimpering mess… All because of him. He was so insanely in love with your fucked out expression every time.

Your walls clenched, close to the sweet end. Logan felt himself twitching inside your warm pussy and his thrusts were getting erratic and sloppy. He filled you up, reaching his own climax first, hot white ropes of cum painting your insides. Your pussy milked him all the way as he kept spliting you open until you let yourself go, legs trembling around his waist. 

For a moment, you stayed like this, with him kissing your shoulder and caressing your thigh, taking in the aftermath of your intense lovemaking.

“Thank you…”

Your whisper forced him to look up at you. There it was, that loving, sweet gaze you had reserved just for him.

He nodded, palm on your jaw holding you gently. “Of course…”

For some reason, he wanted to voice out for once those stupid three words.

I love you.

Or at least hoped you would do it first.

—

The night was cold under the moonlight, almost freezing. He wondered how he got trapped there, between the messy, withered shrubbery, fog, and the trees of a forest he never recalled knowing. He was alert, senses to the limit in case something might attack him. He felt as if he was being watched, but there were no eyes he could find around. He couldn’t see much like that.

But then a voice started to call his name from afar, claws coming out immediately as he sharpened his senses to find the owner. One, two, three times he heard, trying to find the person who was calling but there was only darkness. His heart skipped a beat when someone spoke behind him.

“Logan…”

He turned on his feet and he felt like dying again. “Jean?”

He withdrew his claws back immediately. The redhead smiled, coming closer until she touched his cheek with a soft hand before pulling away. “How are you, Logan?”

“What-”

“Are you happy now?” she asked, beaming brightly as if they were in a casual conversation instead of the darkness of the woods.

His brows furrowed. She couldn’t be real. She wasn’t there with him. Jean was gone, he had killed her because it was what she wanted. It was her way out to get what she needed; it was the key to her freedom…

“What do you mean?”

“With her… Be careful. You could kill her. Just like me,” Jean whispered, tears forming in her eyes.

Logan stepped back, trying to get away. He shook his head in disbelief, not knowing exactly why Jean was saying this to him.

“No… You’re not real…”

“Everything you love is destined to death and chaos, Logan. You shouldn’t be there,” Jean continued, her eyes switching from her usual tone to a deep black. The ground began trembling under their feet with each step of her, wind building up around. Logan felt truly scared, but somehow he couldn’t run, just stand there as she approached. “All she will know is a life of suffering if you stay. She doesn’t need that.”

“Jean-”

“She doesn’t need you!”

“Jean!”

And then it happened so fast. His claws buried on her chest, the Phoenix disappearing and leaving her to die. Jean collapsed against his body and Logan reminisced about the events of that battle, where he had to choose to be selfish or liberate her from her own demons. Logan wasn’t sure why he stabbed her like this. And when he thought Jean was dead in his arms, she started to call his name again. This time, he heard it far away.

Logan.

Logan.

Logan…

Logan!

His eyes went wide open. And there you were, by his side on the bed, calling for him with a pain grimace on your face. His claws buried on your stomach.

“Logan…” you gasped and he pulled the claws out, but you were already bleeding, your nightshirt and the mattress stained.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry- I-”

“It’s okay,” you managed to say as he caressed your cheek before taking you in his arms hurriedly and quickly made the way out of your room through the halls. “The nightmares… I know, Logan…”

“God, I’m so sorry, please forgive me. Hank!” Logan stood outside the scientist’s door. “Hank, I need your help!”

The commotion caused some of the students to peek from their doors, and Logan waited outside what he felt it was forever under the gazes of the teenagers. It wasn’t the first time he had caused the same accident. The door opened, finally revealing a sleepy Hank putting his glasses on.

There was no need to explain what had happened.

—

“She’ll be stable soon,” Hank informed once he let Logan inside the med bay. “If you hadn’t brought her soon…”

Logan swallowed the knot on his throat, watching your unconscious figure on the stretcher. You already had received blood to cover up what you lost because of the wounds, and Logan’s claws were not minor weapons. His mind was a mess, confusion taking over. He didn’t know how he let this happen. He had nightmares pretty often, yes, but nothing like this.

Maybe Jean was right. Maybe she was trying to warn him about something. Or Jean was just trying to protect you from him. The last one felt more realistic. Logan wouldn’t hurt you, not ever. You talked about how dangerous it was to sleep together not so long ago, but you had insisted on staying. It was the first time something felt so damn real in his dreams and he wished you wouldn’t let him in your room that night…

“She’ll wake up, right?” Logan asked.

“Absolutely,” Hank nodded. “I will need to monitor her vital signs though, hopefully within a day or two she will be normal again… At least she’ll be stable until the wounds heal completely.”

Of course, Logan thought. You didn’t have a healing factor just like him.

“I’ll be right back,” Hank announced before stepping out of the room, leaving Logan alone.

He felt so guilty for doing this to you. For everything. For being the cause of your suffering now. He was a threat and mentally unstable. He was strong thanks to his genes, but he was weak on the inside. He promised countless times to protect you, but he couldn’t avoid hurting you himself. It didn’t matter that it was a very bad dream that felt disgustingly real, he had failed and hurted someone who truly loved. Again.

Taking your hand gently into his, he leaned to plant a kiss on your forehead, wishing it would be just another game from his mind.

But it wasn’t. Now, he had the person he loved the most lying unconscious and hurted because he would let his darkest thoughts consume him.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, watching you sleep peacefully. “I should have said it sooner.”

-

PART TWO

[jen-with-a-pen]

(In Your) Arms Tonight - 1/2

summary: Hypothesis: If he (Wade) turns off the AC, then they (Wade and Logan) will have no choice but to strip naked and end up sticky and gross and hard together!

That's what he was taught in middle school, right?

pairing: Logan Howlett x Wade Wilson / Worst Wolverine x Deadpool

word count: 1.3k

warnings: MDNI 18+, Wade's POV-ish, blood mention, knife mention, beer mention, Wade's fuckin horny and thirsty y'all, pining, cursing, claws, Wade is looking ✨respectively✨, crude humor and language, slight Deadpool and Wolverine spoilers, no smut (yet, sorry)

a/n: AUGH DONT LOOK AT ME (actually please do I cannot hold this in any longer.) currently part one of two parts. posting the first one now as I am currently traveling for work and won't be back until beginning of September and then part two will be out when i either A. Get home or B. Finish it and format it in between running around like a chicken with my head cut off. Please be patient with me! I will not tolerate "whEreS PaRt Two?¿??" when I literally just told you. Hope y'all enjoy one of the many products of my brain rot. More to come in due time ✨

Not beta'd. Written on my phone and edited via gdocs. Post formatted on mobile because I don't wanna use my work computer lmao

Please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes!

If I've missed any tags, PLEASE let me know!

gif by @tomshiddles | dividers by @saradika-graphics | warning banner by me ❤️

My AO3 | My Masterlist

Read this fic HERE on AO3

❤️ Reblogs and comments are appreciated, as always ❤️

PART ONE | PART TWO

The abs are great. More than great, actually. In fact, they're all Wade thinks, dreams, and fantasizes about. All day, everyday, non-fucking-stop. The moment replays over and over in his fucked up noodle brain like a scratched record. He knows muscle memory is a thing, but what about salivatory memory?

Christ. He's gotta get a grip instead of getting hard.

But what about when Logan isn't flexing hard enough to rip his goddamn suit off?

Wade notices Logan becoming more relaxed around the apartment as the days pass. Adjusting to his new life, coming out of the bedroom earlier than he has to on days when he gets a turn to sleep on a real bed. It's Sofa City most of the time– which he really doesn't mind, he almost prefers it most of the time (since it's in clear sight of the front door) but Wade more often than not likes to insist they share his 'much-too-big-for-lil-old-me' twin XL mattress that's seen more stains than sex in the last year alone.

Logan's compromise is he'll take the bed and Wade the couch half the time. Alone. They're still working on the negotiations of said compromise, but the jury– Blind Al– is still out on recess.

Once he's more settled in, Logan learns that it's okay to kick off his boots and put his feet up. It's not often, but enough that Wade silently wishes he'd rest those big meaty calves on his lap instead. He's been needing a new weighted blanket and Adamantium-coated tibias and hairy legs are so in right now.

Logan doesn't know it, but Wade secretly plays 'ohmygodhetotallylookedatme' whenever he so much as catches a glimpse of Wade oggling at him in his peripherals. Wade can't help it when Broody and the Beast's ribbed white muscle shirt pulls taut against those deliciously plump pecs that he silently prays it'll burst off again. Or he'll rip it off. Or Logan will rip it off. For him.

A boy can dream.

It's especially hard to win at 'OMGHTLAM' when Logan accessorizes– AKA throwing on whatever flannel is in rotation out of the several he finds at the thrift store a few blocks over. Wade feels his throat tighten like his jeans do when Logan wears the forest green one. Really brings out his eyes.

And smile. And lips. And–

It's still summer, so on the hotter days, when sweat glistens on his brow and Wade desperately wishes to be the back of Logan's hand, the tank top comes off. All Logan's sweaty, gloriously muscular body has on is a wonderfully worn-in pair of jeans with the hem of black briefs poking out behind the denim waist.

Do they have AC? Yes. Because Wade would have to plan a funeral for Al if they didn't.

But when she's out and about, he likes to turn it off and let the New York heat wave run its course. Sure, it leaves him sticky and gross, but he'd rather be sticky and gross and hard when he can help it.

Luckily, Blind Al is gone for the whole weekend. Some girls trip or a drug mule job. Same difference.

Hypothesis: If he (Wade) turns off the AC, then they (Wade and Logan) will have no choice but to strip naked and end up sticky and gross and hard together!

That's what he was taught in middle school, right?

With the push of a button and a sprinkle of patience, Logan is splayed out on the couch in a matter of hours with a lukewarm beer in hand while fighting his eyelids from dozing off to some random war documentary. Sweat beads on his temples and there's a slight sheen to his skin from his biceps to the lower V pointing down to between his thighs. He chuckles every so often, mumbling things to himself between swigs of beer and shaking his head when the narrator gets something 'wrong.'

Wade busies himself in the kitchen but his eyes are permanently glued to his roommate. He doesn’t miss the way Logan's stomach rises and falls gently, the rock-hard six pack softening into rolling hills of muscle with a layer of dark hair covering as much surface area as immortal-like hormones will allow. Grown out beard, chops, and messy hair really throw the whole look together; very 2000s, if you ask Wade. His pecs look just as soft as a pair of titties, if not softer, and Wade knows it. He'd do anything to lay his perfect little head on Logan's chest. Maybe lick it too, if he's a good boy. 

Logan perks up suddenly from the couch.

Oh God did he say that out loud?

"Wade?"

Wade doesn't hear him. Can't hear him. Half-refuses to hear him, honestly. Daydreaming takes up a whole lotta brain power and this show isn't running itself. Economy, budget cuts, unprecedented times. You know the shtick. 

"Wade."

Nothing but a bead of drool comes out of Wade's mouth. 

Suddenly, there's a crash right behind Wade's head and now he's awake. He whips around to the ale-spattered wall behind him and back to Logan, who's now standing with claws drawn and chest heaving.

Wade swears he's blushing. 

Eyes wide and brow standing up straight like his good little soldier, Wade looks down at the counter before him to find a bloodbath of a scene: one hand's on a knife while the other spews blood all over the yellowed counter tops; there's remnants of a carrot that was finished five minutes ago, followed directly by remnants of fingers cut down to the last fucking knuckle and slice marks beginning down the back of his hand.

Wade holds up his spurting stump, gashed artery doing a spot-on impression of Ol' fucking Faithful.

"Oh. Huh. Thought I smelled something," he says, staring at his now-tingling hand. Baby fingers for the rest of the night were so worth the staring contest with Logan's beautiful body.

"Fuckin' idiot," Logan mutters, sheathing his claws and striding over to the hall closet to grab a towel. Wade's already stopped bleeding, but just because they might be immune to bloodborne pathogens doesn't mean Al is.

"Gah– get back, damn mutt." Logan shoos Dogpool out of the kitchen to prevent her from lapping up her papa's bodily fluids. He throws the towel in Wade's face and goes to grab the bleach out of the cupboard under the sink. Logan learned very quickly where to find it the first time this happened a month or two ago.

"Sorry baby, Mommy's got a boo-boo and Daddy's just trying to help," Wade coos at Dogpool. "You're too good to me, peanut. Someone oughta wife ya up before I do."

Logan responds with a scowl as he tosses the carrots out and tries to keep the counter from staining. "Why th'fuck did you do that?"

"It was time for a new hand. Old one was so last season."

Wade mops up the blood from his arm and wraps the towel onto his head like he's just gotten out of the shower. Holding up his regenerating stump, he poses like a cover model for Vogue.

"Whatcha think, peanut?" He strikes another pose. "Is this doing anything for ya, big boy?"

Logan grunts as he tosses a wad of paper towels into the trash can. He turns to leave the kitchen, eyes flicking to Wade. It's the quickest once over ever, but Wade sees it. Commits it to memory while he pulls a Flashdance in a chair from the kitchen table and follows Logan's denim-clad ass as it sways off to the bathroom. 

"'M gonna go shower. Don't wait up,” Logan calls before shutting the door and locking it. 

Sighing, Wade looks down at his crotch, pants tent pitched higher and tighter than a first-timer on Everest.

Good thing he's ambidextrous.

[simp-ly-writes]

The Comment Section (pt.5)

─────── · · A Social Media AU Fic

Pairing: Spencer Agnew x gn!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: You and Spencer get invited to another convention and host a panel; the fans are ecstatic and you have never felt so high, so happy and truly carefree in your life that makes you do things you would have no considered doing...

─ · · TAGS: SPOILERS IN TAGS!! gender-neutral pronouns, angst, social media au, suggestive themes, attempt at comedy, alcohol consumption, slowburn, light swearing, kissing, fluff, mutual pinning, friends that act like lovers, friends/lovers.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | PART FOUR | PART 4.5 | PART SIX

─ · · A/N: will they... won't they...

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🔔 angelagiovanagiarratana, just added to their story, check it out!

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Much Time Later...

🔔 CreatorCon just posted, check it out!

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Liked by spennser, ianhecox, (name)s_username and others

CreatorCon please give a warm welcome to our newest additions to this years panel roster: (name) and Spencer Agnew from Smosh! 🎉

View all 1,577 comments

username99 not to be the grammer police or anything but you should also put (name)'s last name if you are putting Spencer's down since they are both not married 😬

↳ username01 shhh let them join the ✨ delusions ✨ ↳ username84 grammAr not grammer* ↳ username99 shut up 😘

username32 please bring back Brennan Lee Mulligan again!! I am on my hands and knees begging you, please!!!

username22 spencer helping (name) up the stairs and (name) holding the door for them afterwards is just so sweet 🥹

username48 hopefully the V.I.P passes actually work this time around

↳ CreaterCon we are so sorry to hear this, please send us a direct message to let us know what we can do to further improve your experience. ↳ username48 fix your shit. ❤️

username10 what is going on?? what about the Theorists panel, does anyone know where that got moved to?? I can't find any info on the websites or socials 😭

username50 love the line up (so far!) would like to see even more members of the Smosh family though. But I am really looking forward to this!!

username43 those crowd questions about to go crazy, too bad though they will probs limit their personal life stuff.

username19 they about to make a whole 1000+ people crowd third wheel, now that is talent 👏👏👏

smosh thank you for having them both for the weekend, us parents need a break every now and then

↳ smoshpit yes, please take them for us. PLEASE 🙏 ↳ ianhecox (but seriously don't actually, they make us a lot of money) ↳ smoshgames wait, why am i just finding this out now 😭 ↳ username67 for once i am actually fine with company account commenting, what is going on?!?!?

(name)s_username so excited to attend, thank you for having me and my "husband" 🤣

username71 OMG after last years PAX and CreatorClash events I am SOOO READY FOR THESE TWO AGAIN. ORGANIZERS ARE IN THE KNOW ABOUT (NAME) AND SPENCER, (YOURSHIPNAME) FOREVERRRRR!!!!!!!

spennser we are never escaping the allegations...

↳ (name)s_username never 🤣 ↳ username44 (yourshipname) actually addressing (yourshipname) directly?? never thought i would live to see the day! ↳ username01 we take this as them admitting feelings... right... right? ↳ username39 touch grass.

username29 Does anyone know what they are willing to sign or if they are signing stuff this year??

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🔔 SmoshCast just uploaded! Turn off notifications here.

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What is the best movie? (definitively)

Smosh Cast ✓ [Subscribed] Like 128k | Dislike | ... 582K subscribers 488k views 2 days ago #7 on trending (name) and Spencer debate the greatest form of every media. from movies to tv shows, video games and music; listeners are in for a wild ride.

2,222 Comments

username56 2 days ago Really missing Amanda and Shayne doing the weekly episodes, but I guess I can survive on (name) and Spencer... username77 2 days ago Why is nobody talking about how outstandingly (name) preformed in their movie?!?! I just watched it this weekend and was floored by their preformance. I'm surprised it didn't get any further mention in the videos! ▼ 199 replies ↳ username62 2 days ago I am shocked that a youtuber, nevertheless a comedian could portray such range and subtle expressions- it was beautiful even with what little screen time they had in comparison to others. They took away every scene they were in! ↳ username88 1 day ago I really hope they receive recognition, I really think (name) could make it mainstream. I mean, their connections alone from starring in this but be crazy. ↳ username19 1 day ago Im a selfish fan I will admit, I wouldn't want them to leave Smosh for other projects. In all honesty I could not image not having them in front of or in the background of Smosh videos. I mean could you even think of how Spencer would react?? They are stuck to each other like glue. ↳ username33 1 day ago they both are adults, i'm sure they could work something out. (name) shouldn't be held back from becoming something greater (even though they are great now!) because of the "kinda" relationships they are in. ↳ username20 1 day ago I think time will tell us the answers. But I really hope that (name) considers all their options... username01 2 days ago I have been living for all these play fighting and argument videos of the two of them. Like they have chemistry, a degree of hate for one another in some ways (but like healthy silly hate)- i'm pulling out my hair more and more as to why they won't just kiss already!! username67 2 days ago Okay but (name)'s take are 100% based. homebro/girl knows what they are speaking about and never missed ▼ 31 replies ↳ username72 1 day ago Yeah but I think Spencer's take was more well rounded especially in the TV Shows argument. ↳ username22 1 day ago Couples Therapist Here, I just like how they can argue so civilly with one another and really show active listening with one another. Take the eye-contact, small head nods, and inclined seating with restating what they said and expanding upon it. Its beautiful really plus they both know a lot about their field so that helps too I guess. ↳ username88 1 day ago OMG please make a full video break down of one of their videos together, it would do really well!! ↳ username10 1 day ago Yes, Please!! username27 12 hours ago Okay, but we all known that the best video game is Purble Place. username50 30 minutes ago I can't wait to hear from you both in person, have it marked on my calendar!! username91 1 hour ago cringe. username43 5 hours ago Okay but now I need tier lists on them together. Video Concept #1: (name) and Spencer rank every time they almost fell in love and the one time/multiple times they really did. ▼ 10 replies ↳ username66 1 hour ago Officially am deceased XD ↳ username21 1 hour ago Video Concept #2: (name) and Spencer rank every hangout that was actually a date username74 30 minutes ago why am I crying when the video ended?? Like I want whatever this is.

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🔔 (name)s_username just posted, check it out!

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Liked by spennser, co_mill, anthonypadilla and others

(name)s_username it was awesome meeting everyone, same time next year? 😄❤️

View all 2,334 comments

CreatorCon let's make it a date? 😉

↳ (name)s_username noooo, not again! 😩 🏃‍♂️💨 ↳ username41 bwahahahhahahah!!! ↳ chickenshopdate oi!! 💢😡 ↳ (name)s_username ummm, now this is awkward... 😬

username88 was not long enough, i could listen to the two of you speak all day. defiantly worth the money!!

tomeybones i don't think florescent lighting was anyones light but you shine beautifully in it!

username48 glen powell's character should have gotten back with you at the end of the movie, you both had better chemistry!! Its giving La La Land all over again 😭

co_mill wished we could have made it but great work bestie, you killed it up there!! ❤️❤️

↳ (name)s_username aww thank u! would have loved having you there too ❤️❤️

username40 okay google, play "can't help but falling in love with you." move out of the way spenser, if you don't want them- i'll glady take (name)!

spennser good job fellow "spouse" 👍

↳ (name)s_username yes, you as well, "spouse" 👍 ↳ username01 okay, but this is just straight up cruel 😭

anthonypadilla i didn't see anything appear in the news so good work team!

damien_haas so as I was stuck in the signing booths you both were playing with paper airplanes and arm wrestleing?? What fairness is this?? /sarcastic positive

username71 OMG how did I just discover you now and miss a chance of meeting you?!?!?

username60 please tell me that there's a sequel coming out, I refuse to accept that you didn't re-marry him in the film 😭

phatchance excuse me but I know these two people packing out a 2000 person panel and they are the coolest ❤️

username31 I was too scared to ask anything because you both are just such pretty people like holy crap I love you both so much, you all mean the world to me and thank you so much for the hug. I am never washing the coat now

↳ username77 so that went progressively down hill lol

username12 Day 1.4 million of asking, just get together, or fuck, or something, anything but this (or breaking up for that matter) with Spencer. Like get it together.

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🔔 spennser, just added to their story, check it out!

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🔔 alex_tran's story is no longer available.

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🔔 (name)s_username's story is no longer available.

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🔔 SmoshPit just uploaded! Turn off notifications here.

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Sneaking into Concerts??? (Two Truths, One Lie)

Smosh Pit ✓ [Subscribed] Like 79k | Dislike | ... 8.29M subscribers 370k views 1 weeks ago

7,889 Comments

username31 1 week ago I know I sound like a broken record but it feels weird not having Spencer or (name) in front of camera for once. I got so used to them always being part of the cast like Courtney or Ian. ▼ 10 replies ↳ username29 1 week ago I think around the 12 minute mark, Courtney said something about them both calling in sick. ↳ username73 1 week ago I mean... did you see their stories with one another last night? They both were properly wasted LMAO ↳ username90 30 minutes ago (name) is such a cute drunk, just complimenting and flirting with everyone until Spencer asks them to shut up or hugs them. Damien and Alex really had their work cut out for them hahahha! ↳ username20 4 hours ago Okay but external videos also show they dancing together and grabbing waters its so wholesome that even when heavily drunk they are constantly thinking about one another username88 1 day ago Would have never thought Anthony would have been the one to sneak into a festival! username28 12 hours ago Did anyone manage to catch (name)'s or alex's story last night or was I just seeing things before it got taken down?? ▼ 301 replies ↳ username90 30 minutes ago OMG YES! I threw my phone in shock!! Should've taken a screenshot I am kicking myself rn. ↳ username01 30 minutes ago I. am. not. okay. physically and emotionally after this. username55 4 days ago HAHHAHA "sick." hmmm sure (name) and spencer, sure...

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🔔 (Yourshipname) Updates just uploaded!

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"Drunk Minds Speak A Sober Heart:" A (yourshipname) Edit

(Yourshipname) Updates [Subscribe] Like | Dislike | ... 1.12K subscribers 499k views 1 week ago #2 on trending click to expand

14,119 Comments

⚲ Pinned by Creator (yourshipname)updates ✓ 1 week ago I will take this video down if requested by either (name) or Spencer but for now... MWAHAHHAHA they have kissed with photo evidence!! ▼ 173 replies ↳ username97 1 hour ago I think I have just ascended. This is truly one of the best days of my life. Take this all your non-believers and haters!!! Amazing edit BTW! ↳ username11 1 week ago I don't think they are going to bring it up anywhere but a small victory is a victory nonetheless. I see this as a mission success boys!! ↳ username01 1 week ago I am happier for them and their still non-relationship than my own long term one hahahhaa ↳ username27 12 hours ago I am in disbelief, I never thought they would. I don't care if they were both hella drunk, they actually kissed?!?!? Like I don't know how to process this information. ↳ username13 12 hours ago fwehd0dfygdkospfhjhgf ↳ username44 just now eloquently said. username23 1 week ago 12 years of pining for one drunk kiss, I'll take it gosh darn it! username90 4 days ago Am currently re-watching all the edits and past moments while having this picture on the side monitor. I am living in a peak moment rn. username80 2 days ago I called my mom to tell her about this and she cheered as well. usernmae32 just now (name) just confirmed on their twitter that them, spencer and the rest of the smosh crew are all going to the oscars! ▼ 4 replies ↳ username13 just now Yes!!! LETS FREAKING GOOOOO!!!! username60 4 days ago This will go down as one of the greatest love stories in the history of the internet; i need movies, more fanfiction, music, and more fanart!! username78 10 hours ago happy for them, truly.

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─ · · A/N: 😉

─ · · TAGLIST: @lisiliely @missflufffanfics @little-stitious-studios @thejourneyneverendsx @sibsteria

[bugrry]

you're the thing that's crystal clear

hbo!joel miller x fem!reader

hello lovebugs!!

a/n: after thirteen months of no new writing, the inspiration bug finally bit me again! please please please let me know what you think! hopefully i'll have more works coming out in the next few months, fingers crossed! :EDIT: at first i'd had it written that it was a gn reader, forgetting that i'd used she/her pronouns for the reader. so sorry!

in this fic there are spoilers for episode six of the last of us AND i have not played the game, so if there are any inaccuracies, sorry!

tags/warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, reader and joel reuniting (let me know if i missed/forgot about anything!)

word count: 3,105

part two

Joel and Ellie had been at the commune for three whole hours before Joel can bring himself to ask about you. 

“Where is she?” Joel finally asks as the four of them sit together and enjoy their meal. Tommy sighs, as though he’d been waiting for Joel to ask the question. He probably had been. 

“I don’t know, Joel,” Tommy grunted, piercing the last morsel on his plate with his fork. 

“You said she came here with you,” Joel grumbles, his voice just above a whisper. 

“I also said she didn’t want to talk to you,” Tommy responds, swallowing and standing. He grabs his and Maria’s plate once she indicates that she’s done eating. Tommy moves to go to the kitchen, and Joel is following close behind him.

“So she’s here.” He tries to hide the desperation in his voice, but he doesn’t think he was all that convincing. He also doesn’t think he really cares. 

Tommy turns to him, almost snatching Joel’s plate out of his hands. “I’ll tell her you’re here. Let her decide what to do about it. Don’t you dare go lookin’ for her.” 

Joel sighs as he watches Tommy walk away from him, and he decides that he’s going to explore the rest of the commune. He eventually finds himself alone, sitting at a bar in an empty restaurant, thinking about the last time he saw you.

Three Years Ago

“Joel please!” You begged from where you stood with your half-packed backpack.

“No. I’m not joinin’ those Firefly fucks.” He stood tall and intimidating in front of you, almost like he was going to physically stop you from leaving. 

“Even if I have to go?” You said sharply, turning to grab another essential from your small cabinet. 

“You don’t have to go.” Joel almost scoffed. 

“I’ll die if I stay here.” 

“I’ll protect you!” Joel’s hands flew out from where they’d been at his sides. You flinched at the movement and the sudden change in his tone. 

“You can’t. Not from this.” You mumbled, just barely loud enough for him to hear. 

“From what?!” He continued to speak harshly, and you had to push through the instinct to just shut down. 

You dropped what you’d been holding, pressing the palms of your hands into the edge of the counter.  

“From myself!” You took a deep breath and finally turned to face him. “I am rotting here, Joel. I need to get out. For good.”

You had tried so hard to find a purpose here, with him, but every passing day only convinced you further that staying in Boston would kill you. One way or another, you knew that staying here would lead to you being just another one of the bodies that Joel had to toss in the pit. You shuddered at the thought. 

“You’ll rot there too! You can’t pick and choose your life anymore, Y/N! It’s like this everywhere!”

You shook your head, feeling heat rush into your face. “It doesn’t have to be! What if there’s something else out there? Something better?”

“You want to risk your life to find out?”

“Yes, Joel! I have to!” You heard your voice crack, and it was evident that the desperation in your body language had finally seeped its way into your words. 

“Fine!” He barked, turning towards his liquor cabinet as you finished shoving your things into your bag.

“Fine!” You pushed the whimper out of your voice as you zipped your bag shut and made your way out of your shared apartment. 

Once you’d slammed the door shut behind you, you pressed your back against the weakened wood. You shut your eyes as tight as you could, trying to will the tears away as you left down the stairs to where Tommy was waiting for you outside. 

Present Day, 2023

“Joel?” A soft voice comes from behind where Joel had parked himself at the bar. Joel’s head snaps up at your near-silent entrance. “Is that you?”

“...Y/N?” He curses himself for letting someone sneak up on him yet again. But once he sees your face, sees that you’re okay and alive he feels himself deflate. He hadn’t heard from you since you left, only getting bits and pieces from his brother, though Tommy had refused to give Joel much more than that. Joel was sure that had been at your request. After a while, Joel had stopped hearing from Tommy altogether, and thus lost access to whatever minuscule amounts of information he’d been getting about you. 

“They said that Tommy’s brother had come through. Guess they weren’t lyin’.”

“Guess they weren’t.” He mumbles, turning back to where he’d been picking at the chipping wood of the bar.

“You’re really gonna leave her?” You say softly, coming around to the other side of the bar. You pull two glasses from under the counter and turn to grab a bottle of whiskey off the shelf behind you. 

“Shit. How fast does word spread around here?” Joel says, watching your every move, trying to memorize the way you fit into this place so naturally, trying to convince himself that you’re happier here. Without him. 

“Fast enough.” You sigh, placing a half-full glass in front of him. “Dammit.” He doesn’t grab the glass right away, staring at the sloshing liquid until it stills. 

“You can’t leave her.” You say, resting your now empty hand against your hip. 

“Like you left me?”

You sigh, moving to pull a stool from under the counter. You can’t bring yourself to sit directly next to him, not yet. You needed the foot of space that the bar provided to keep you from completely drowning yourself in his presence. “I didn’t have a choice, you know that. You meant the world to me. You still do."

“Do I?” “Joel.” You hesitate. “Do I?” He barks, and there’s a harshness to his words that hadn’t been there when he’d first asked the question. You appear to flinch, but he chooses not to comment on your obvious apprehension. You take a minute to compose yourself before beginning to speak.

“Of course you do. There hasn’t been anyone since you. I don’t know if there ever will be.” You look down at the bar in front of you, daring only once to sneak a peek at Joel’s hands that had finally clasped around the glass. “You don’t have to lie for me. I’m a big boy.” He takes a swig of his drink, grimacing at the pleasant burn it left as it traveled down his throat. “I’m not lyin’. You were it for me.” You continue to avoid his eyes as you busied yourself with wiping down the counter.

Joel grumbled, wanting to drop his head onto the old wood in front of him. “You’re too young for me to have been it for you.” “Maybe so, but I loved you.” “Loved?” “What does it matter to you?” You snap, finally looking up at him and meeting his eyes. It was then that you noticed just how tired he was. Sure, he’d been grizzled and tired when you’d last seen him, but it seemed that the last three years had aged him faster than the previous seventeen had. 

“Never mind.” He says, breaking eye contact and looking back down at where his fingers traced the carvings in the glass. 

You soften, realizing just how much you’d truly missed him, how much you still miss him. You miss the way he’d hold you after a supply run went wrong – or right, for that matter. Joel had loved holding you whenever he got the chance. You miss the way he’d laugh at one of your shitty jokes, playfully pushing you away from him as you tried to get him to admit he’d found it funny. You blush when the thought pops into your head, but you also miss the way he’d put his whole body into kissing you, always made you lose yourself in the feel of his lips, his hands, and his thighs pressed against your body. You didn’t want to dig yourself any deeper of a hole, so you decide to bring the topic back to something you could think about without wanting to scream. 

“Please don’t leave her, Joel.”

Joel groans, looking back up at you and frowning, “We’re back on this?”

“It’s important. I can tell how much she means to you.” “It’s none of your business,” he says, taking a final swig of his drink. 

“Isn’t it?”

He shakes his head, looking down at the empty glass in front of him, “Nope.”

“I suppose it’s not,” you relent, moving to pour him another few ounces. He lets you.

“I’m glad we finally agree on something.”

You nod, looking down at the bottle in your hands. You place the bottle back on the shelf, turning back to take a drink out of your own glass. You decide to push it further. 

“Ellie’s not going to let you leave her.”

Joel sighs as if he’s annoyed that the conversation has continued, but he doesn’t leave. For that, you are thankful.

“What do you know about her?” He demands quietly, still refusing to look back up at you.

“I know enough.”

“I’m not gonna leave her,” he concedes, “I’m gonna give her a choice. Let her stay here or come with me.”

“She’s gonna choose you.”

“How do you know? You didn’t.” 

“That was different.” “Was it?” He grunts. 

“Yes. Because I regret it.” At this, his eyes snap up to meet yours. You’re looking at him sadly, as if it was obvious, as if he should have known that you regretted leaving him. Maybe he should have. He doesn’t say anything for a long while, just staring at you and watching the tears pool in your eyes.

“Oh,” is all he comes up with, and you frown. 

“Is that what you wanted to hear? That I regret leaving you? That I’ve been miserable this whole time without you?”

“No, of course not,” he says sincerely. 

You scoff, rolling your eyes and taking another drink from your glass, “Yeah right.”

“You think I wanted you to be miserable?” Joel says, finally standing from his seat at the bar, “I’ve thought about you every day since you left. I didn’t want to let you leave, but I also knew I had no power to stop you. I knew you were miserable in Boston. I knew I couldn’t convince you to stay.” “Even with how miserable leaving you made me feel, I think it was the right choice.” Joel frowns again, and the wrinkles around his eyes become only more prominent. You yearn to press the obvious hurt out of his face. You don’t let him speak, holding up your hand as you continue talking.

“I think I had to leave you. I don’t think I realized how important you were to me until I didn’t have you anymore.” At your words, Joel's frown only hardens. “You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t you tell me what I mean, Joel Miller,” you snap, your back straightening from where you’d been leaning against the shelf. 

“If I was so important to you, why didn’t you come back?”

“I didn’t think you wanted me back.” 

Joel’s face softens. He looks at you like you’ve just told him the most heartbreaking news he’d ever heard. “What?” He says it so quietly you almost miss it, “You thought…” he trails off, not allowing himself to finish the thought. 

“I thought you hated me.” You blurt. You curse yourself, you’d meant to say it softer than that, to maybe sugarcoat it a little bit. 

“You thought I hated you?” You don’t answer him this time, merely shrugging and looking down and tracing the grain pattern of the bar. “I could never hate you.”

He says it so harshly you feel as though you’re being scolded, and it only makes you shrink further in on yourself. He notices your shift and softens. He comes around your side of the bar, needing to be close to you, to feel your warmth again. You allow him to approach you, and when you don’t shy away from him, he feels a part of him that has been asleep for three years reawaken. He is filled with a sort of warmth that he never thought he’d feel again as he reaches up to cup your face, speaking softly, “Sweetheart, I could never hate you. Never in a million years could I hate you.” He brushes his thumb over your cheek, and he may be imagining it, but he thinks he feels you press your face into his hand. You close your eyes, but he has more to say.

“Y/N, listen to me. We’ve been through too much for me to ever hate you. I’ve seen you at your absolute worst and I still wanted you so bad it hurt.”

You pull away from his touch, and he feels cold again.

“That was before I left,” You say, almost as if you’re ashamed of yourself.

“That’s true. Even after that, though. I never hated you. Not for a second.” “Don’t lie to me Joel,” you almost whimper, and you shut your eyes in embarrassment at letting your voice crack.

“I’m not lying to you. Sure, I was pissed. Heartbroken, even. I thought you and Tommy were idiots for leaving, but there’s no way in hell I ever hated you for it.”

You give a non-commital shrug, still avoiding eye contact with him, “sure,” you eventually mumble.

“I’m telling you the truth. I have to reason to lie to you.”

“To spare my feelings, maybe.” You say softly, now fidgeting with your fingers.

“When have I ever done that?”

This makes you chuckle quietly, and he’s filled with a sort of pride that warms him from the inside out. There’s my girl, he finds himself thinking. Your laugh and your smile fades, and with it, that fuzzy feeling in Joel’s chest. 

“You should hate me.” You finally say. 

“I know,” he says, reaching up to touch you again. This time, he reaches for your hair, pushing a lock of it from your face, “But I can’t bring myself to.”

It's quiet for a few moments before you speak again, “I thought I hated you.” Joel’s hand drops from your face.

“What?” He tries to keep the fear out of his voice, and from your lack of reaction, he hopes that he’s succeeded. 

“I thought I hated you because you let me leave so easily. I thought you’d just decided you didn’t need me anymore. That I wasn’t worth fighting for. That was stupid, I realize that now. But I wrote some pretty bitter things about you in my journal.”

Joel’s hand moves back up to your face, this time to brush away the tears that had fallen down your cheeks, “I could never not need you.”

You shake your head, moving out of his grip again. “You did just fine for more than a decade without me.”

“Maybe I just didn’t realize how alone I was.”

This makes you laugh again, but not in a way that fills Joel with warmth. It’s bitter, doubtful, and angry.

“I could show you,” he starts again, moving back into your personal space, “if you’d let me. I could show you how much you meant to me. How much you still mean to me.”

“I don’t…” you start, but he doesn’t let you finish.

“If you’d let me, I’d spend the rest of my life showing you how much you mean to me.”

“Joel…” you start again, but this time you let yourself trail off, not knowing what you were going to say, just knowing that you should probably say something.

“Please sugar,” he starts again, placing his hands softly on your shoulders. You don’t move any closer, but you also don’t move away, so Joel keeps going, “You said it yourself. There’s still a small part of you that loves me, even if you probably shouldn’t.”

You mumble something to yourself, something Joel couldn’t make out. He reaches up to move your face towards him, to force you to look at him. You obey his silent request, looking up and into his eyes that were somehow still so soft, even after all these years. 

“It’s not a small part of me, Joel,” you say again, speaking louder this time, “It was never a small fucking part. My whole being was devoted to you. It tore me apart to leave you. I was useless on the road. Once we were with the Fireflies, I threw myself into my work and my chores so that I didn’t have to think about the huge Joel-shaped piece that was missing from my heart. I hate myself for leaving, and I hate myself even more for not going back to Boston and fighting for you. I was a coward. I still am.”

By the time you’re finished talking, tears are streaming down your face. Joel is looking at you with the softest eyes you’ve ever seen, and it makes you want to curl into a ball and never speak to anyone again. He lets you cry for a moment before he responds.

“If you’re a coward, then I’m a coward too. I could have just as easily come looking for you.” “I never expected you to.” You squeak out, in between your sobs “And I never expected you to come back. That doesn’t mean I got over you leaving. I didn’t think I’d ever get over it. And I hadn’t, not until I saw you here.”

Once he finishes speaking, he finally pulls you into his chest and just lets you sob into him. He doesn’t know how long the two of you stand there, in that empty bar, with his arms wrapped around you, but what he does know is that he never wants to let you go. Eventually, your sobs fade to quiet sniffles and you shift in order to wrap your arms around his body. Even though the two of you are pressed against each other, the way you grab at him makes it seem as though you need him even closer. You mumble something into his chest that he can’t quite make out, so he pulls you away from him. You whine at the loss of his touch, but you quiet once you see how he looks at you.

“What was that, sweetheart?”

“I said I love you.” You sniffle, reaching up and wiping a tear from his face.

“I love you too, Y/N. God, do I love you.”

-

part two

[cryptidcorners]

Biker!Mike Schmidt x M!Reader Headcanons

Description: Headcanons with your biker boyfriend, Mike!

Media: FNaF!Movie [ AU ]

Character: Mike Schmidt (+ Abby)

Tags: Biker!Mike Alternate Universe, Fluff, Headcanons mixed with Drabbles, Protectiveness, Established Relationship, Found Family, Cute Stuff, Semi-Domestic, Romantic, Comfort + Uses Masculine Terms

Warnings: Mentions of (Gang, Vehicle, Physical) Violence, Injury + Kidnapping, Slight FNaF!Movie Spoilers, Depressive Thoughts, Stress, Extreme Nightmares

read my TOS + Mike Schmidt Masterlist

Definitely a show-off, even before you started dating. He wouldn't boast too loudly though, he prefers to smoothly tell you how he got blackeye or some new asset on his bike. He always melts when you're impressed by his feats, even if they were from failure.

Mike's a collector. While cycling or suffering from boredom in his dull jobs, he'd swipe a few things that grab his attention and share it with you. He enjoys making chains for you and Abby. It hasn't been the first time Abby has been dragged out of school for wearing a pin with some questionable language Mike didn't notice.

Absolutely adores helping you dress up to resemble his biker wear. Loves helping you find bracelets, decorative eyeliner and rebellious-printed clothes. It makes me squeal eternally.

Gets intense anxiety in populated areas, mostly due to his trauma with Garrett. He doesn't want to think about anyone taking you or Abby away. He's stupid protective in public spaces. With his already intimidating demeanour, it's safe to say nobody bothers talking to you too much.

He enjoys using pet names, but he jokingly calls you "sir", "bro" or "boytoy" a lot. Speaking of which, Mike adores when you make up titles for him. It's something he treasures a lot. A special name for him? And him only? Makes his heart melt.

Takes you on bike rides at any opportunity. He also loves taking Abby in rides too and doing basic tricks with you watching from the sidelines. He's always careful, he could never forgive himself if either of you got hurt.

One of his favorite things to do is let you touch his hair. Nothing makes him happier than intimate moments like that. He likes it more than cuddling and neck kisses. It's just the simple things in life that appeal to him the most.

Wears the silliest shirts while he isn't at work or roaming the streets. Either quotes involving boyfriends or cartoon merchandise. It amuses all of you, but it genuinely makes him happy to indulge in a separate style. Definitely has a: "Men love me, Fish Fear Me" hat somewhere.

You're always at his aid when he comes back bruised. Like the first bullet, he'd calmly hum you an out of tune, over exaggerating story to make himself look good. Truly, Mike doesn't think he deserves you. So, he refuses to embarrass himself.

Loves kissing. That's all.

"Come on, Mike. I gotta go," you giggled as he pressed featherweighted kisses against your skin. You could feel him smiling before he pulled back with a heated sigh. "Just a minute, please? You know how much I miss you." With a playfully eye roll, you wrap your hands around his sides and hug him as he continued peppering you again while grinning sweetly.

Always referencing something. Either it's from a show or song he likes. He's always dumbfounded when you don't understand and ends up spending thirsty minutes rambling about music history.

Pulls pranks occasionally, mostly with Abby's help. A few prank wars have gone down in your household.

Has at least two tattoos based on you (and Abby), he takes his relationships very seriously.

Cried when Abby called you her "dad" once. This loser is so head over heels for you he'd sob if you were complimented him. It makes his heart throb to see you and his sister connect despite everything.

Very defensive. If anything goes wrong, he's either going to use grade school insults or result to violence. There were a couple of times he couldn't come home due to arrest. He'd come back as if nothing happened.

If you ever got into an argument, Mike would try to give you the most formal apology ever. Either by notes or heavily descriptive speeches about how special you are to him. Most of the time it was pretty cheesy, but you couldn't help but be smitten by his adorable attempts.

Much deeper voice + Slightly Childish. He's still pretty shy when he isn't in his element, so Mike is much more confident with you around. Mostly due to his need to impress you.

So much fist bumping.

Mike's bike is DEFINITELY named after you. Anyone who asks about it is immediately shot with dumps of his adoration if you. Bro will never shut up about his boyfriend. Ever.

Mike has definitely gone through those: "This is for you," and failed immediately. As much as it embarrassed him, he finds it cute how fond you were of it. His face flares up a lot around you.

"God, I'm so sorry I missed it." He frowned, face drenched with numb scarlet. "I didn't mean to make a fool out of you." Mike relaxed once you gripped his leather glove with a smile, "So? I still love you. I think it was sweet how you tried to impress me. I'm proud of you." Mike swore he was starstruck right there.

Loves holding your hand, even in public. It's one of the only forms of affection he's comfortable with displaying.

[vodika-vibes]

Hello! Congratulations on the followers! I saw your asks for the event are open and was hoping to get a soulmate AU with Wrecker or Tech. Hurt/comfort if your up for it.

Lost

Summary: When you were a child, you never found any items that belonged to someone else in your things. Your parents reassured you to the best of their abilities, telling you that your soulmate was probably just very neat and didn’t lose things. But, by the time you reach your teenage years, you’ve accepted that while your soulmate might be yours, you’re not necessarily theirs.

Pairing: TBB Wrecker x F!Reader

Word Count: 2784

Warnings: Enough angst that I made myself weepy, but there's a happy ending. Reader is described as having hair and is referred to by the nickname Haze.

Prompt: Soulmate AU - when you lose an item, it ends up in your soul mates possession.

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: So, you didn't specify which Soul mate AU you wanted, so I went through a list and picked one that I thought sounded interesting. I hope you don't mind!

“There you are,” You don’t look up from your computer screen at the familiar voice of Suture, the leader of this group of teenagers and young adults. “So, Haze,” you pause as he calls you by your assigned nickname, “What do you have for me?”

“Do you think that slicing is magic, Suture?” You ask, your fingers moving across the keyboard again, “If I’m not careful we’ll get caught. And we do not want to be caught.”

He drops down on one of the crates that line the wall behind you, “Yeah, yeah. I know. I’m just eager.”

You sigh and turn on your stool, “What do you even want this list for, Suture?”

“It’s a list of soulmates. Why do you think I want this list?”

You sigh once more and turn back to the computer, “I know you’re salty about not having a soulmate, Suture, but you really need to let it go.”

“And you’re not?”

“I’ve come to terms with the fact that my soulmate belongs to someone else. It doesn’t make me want to make other people as miserable as me.”

Suture laughs, “You say that, Haze, but you joined this group too. You’re just as bitter as me. You just haven’t admitted it yet.”

“Is there something you need or are you just here to make me hate you?” You ask sharply.

“Wann join me in bed?” Suture asks with a leer.

“I want you to leave me alone so I can focus.” You bite out in retort, “If you want someone in your bed, go and ask Diamond. She’s not busy.”

“You’ll join me eventually.”

“No. I won’t. I’m doing this one job, and then I’m moving on to a more reasonable cell.”

“Suit yourself. You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”

You hear, more than see, him get up and stalk out of your workroom. And you exhale slowly before you focus your attention back on your work. As soon as you finish this, you’re gone.

There’s the sound of heavy footsteps behind you, and you release an explosive sigh, “I thought I said—” You whirl around to glare at Suture, only to pause and blink at the man standing behind you. “You’re not Suture.”

“Nope.” Spoiler, a Kiffar man, says with an easy grin. “I can go and get him if you’d like.”

“Please don’t.”

He laughs and pulls a small crate over to sit next to you, “He’s been harassing you again?”

“He seems to think that he’s charming enough to convince me to stay.” You reply as you look away from him and glance back at the computer, “He’s not.”

Spoiler laughs again, and leans on the table, “Hey, Haze?”

“Hm?”

“Why are you here?”

You pause and shoot him a confused look, “Like, in general, or—?”

He grins, “I mean, why’d you join this group?”

“That’s a dumb question, Spoiler. We both know that there isn’t anywhere else for someone like to me go.” You reply, “People without soulmates aren’t welcome. Anywhere.”

“You’re not like the rest of them, Haze.”

You continue typing, “If you’re not careful people are going to peg you for a narc, Jedi.”

“You had me pegged the moment you met me, didn’t you?”

“You weren’t trying all that hard to hide yourself from me.”

“True. You’re a decent person. Don’t have anything to do with any other the others. That’s why I’m so surprised that you’re here. That you’re helping.” 

You sigh softly, “What do you want from me, Spoiler?”

“I want you to be smart about this.” He hisses, “This, right here, it’s going to ruin your life. And not just your life, the lives of hundreds of children.”

You’re quiet for a moment, “...why should they get to be happy?”

Spoiler sighs, “You don’t believe that.”

“...no. I don’t.”

“May I make a suggestion?”

“Can I stop you?”

“No.”

You sigh, “Go ahead.”

Spoiler drops a handful of credits on the table, “Take your laptop and go and get a caf.”

You shoot him a bewildered look, “Sorry?”

“Haze, you don’t want to be here for the next couple of hours. Alright?”

You stare at him, your eyes wide. And then, slowly, you close your laptop and grab the handful of credits. “Alright.”

“Good girl.” Spoiler walks you to the exit, and, as nice as he can, shoves you out of the hide-out and slams the door behind you.

You stare at the closed door for a moment, before you turn on your heels and head towards your favorite cafe. It offers a free internet connection, so long as you buy something. 

It’s also a nice place to hear some juicy gossip.

But, most importantly, they sell your favorite sandwich and you’re starving. 

The cafe is small and out of the way, not the most popular of the cafes in the area, it’s also not the cheapest, but they offer the best firewalls and their meals are filling, so you take a single table in the back corner and open your computer to a blank email and stare at it for a moment.

It’s been months since you’ve contacted your mom.

You should message her more often.

Slowly, you type out the first sentence, ‘Hi mom, I know it’s been a while-” and then you stop. What are you supposed to say? What can you say?

You’re pulled from your spiraling thoughts when someone stops next to your table, “Can I ask what sandwich that is? It smells amazing.”

The man standing next to your table is massive, a veritable wall of muscle, though he has a kind smile on his face. 

“Oh, this is the Manager’s Special with extra veggies on naan bread. It’s not the cheapest on the menu, but it’s very filling.”

“Hm, I’ll have to give it a try. Thanks.”

“No problem.” You reply, absently, as you focus your attention back on the email. And, maybe if you had been paying more attention, you wouldn’t have noticed the bracelet wrapped around his wrist.

But you were only half paying attention. So, naturally, the simple bracelet jumps out at you. 

And you realize that you know that bracelet.

Your dad had it specially made for you for your sixteenth birthday. The inner band has a simple phrase, Your worth isn’t based on other people, while the outside was decorated with vines and flowers.

You loved it. 

It was meant to be a birthday and a “you’re enough as you are” present. But it vanished two months after you got it. 

Honestly, you thought your brother stole it and gave it to his soulmate. It was the major breaking point in your family. Especially since your brother never denied stealing it, and doubled down on taking it.

You open your mouth to say something to the stranger, but he’s already moved away from your table. So, instead, you watch. You watch as he joins a group of men, his brothers probably.

You watch as a woman, laughingly, smacks his shoulder, bumps him with hers, and then wraps her arms around him in a hug.

And your heart shatters.

Your gaze drops to your laptop, and the blinking cursor that seems to be taunting you. 

Of course. Of course, you’re not his soul mate. 

You knew this. You’ve known this for years.

You’re not good enough to have a soul mate.

Maybe you’re just like the others. Just as hopeless. Just as broken.

You switch tabs and stare at the hack you’ve been working on for days. All you have to do is hit enter, and Suture will have all of the information he needs for his attack.

You press enter, and hundreds of people will die.

You rest your fingers on the enter key and then pull your hand away from your computer.

You can’t do it.

You can’t sentence one hundred children to death, and one hundred others to a life of loneliness. 

Quickly, before you can think again, you delete all of your work, and close the program, ensuring that you won’t be able to recover it.

You stare at the blank screen for a moment, and then you close your laptop and slide it into your bag. 

You’ll get your bracelet back, and then you’ll leave. You know the cell on Alderaan is a lot more political than terroristic, maybe they require a slicer.

Quickly, you wrap up what’s left of your lunch and slide it into your bag as well, and then you stand and walk over to the large man.

“Excuse me.” You say, once you standing at that table.

“Can we help you?” The man with long hair asks.

You pull a small slip of paper out of your bag, the insurance claim for the bracelet. “My father had that bracelet,” You point to the bracelet around the large man’s wrist, “made for me when I was 16. Here’s the insurance claim for it. I’d like it back.”

The man picks up the paper, and looks at it, and then at the bracelet itself, before he nods, and pulls it off, “Here you go. I’ve been keeping it safe for you.” He says with a smile.

“Thanks.” You take the bracelet and the insurance claim back, “Sorry for bothering you.”

“You can join us, if you like?” The man with glasses offers, “There is plenty of room.”

You don’t meet his gaze, or anyone elses, “It’s better I don’t, I think. Sorry, again. I’ll be more careful with my stuff.”

“You don’t have—” The large man starts, but you flee before he can finish his sentence. It’s better this way.

You’re less likely to get hurt.

Wrecker stares at the place his soul mate was just standing, and then turns his helpless gaze to his brothers. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, you didn’t.” Hunter replies, reassuringly, “But you should go after her.”

“Just be careful to not scare her.” Crosshair warns. 

“I’m not going to do it intentionally.” Wrecker bites out at his younger brother, before he gets to his feet and follows his soul mate out of the cafe. 

She’s easy enough to track, now that he knows what she looks like, and she’s not trying to avoid detection. 

He hopes she’s not just shy, he’d feel awful following her if she was running away because she was shy.

But, at the same time, Wrecker has been longing for this day since he was a cadet. Since the first time a piece of her clothing appeared in his bed. The day that bracelet appeared, mixed in with what few belongings he could lay claim to, he vowed that he would one day return it to her.

It was clear to him that someone loved her a lot.

Now he knows that it was a gift from her parents. 

Though he can’t help but wonder why she looked so sad when she took the bracelet back. Surely she should have been happy, right?

Although—

She might think that he’s not her soulmate. It’s not like he owns anything that he can afford to get lost. So if her stuff went missing, and she never found anything that wasn’t hers, it would make sense that she might think that he’s not her soulmate.

His heart aches at the thought. She must have been so lonely.

Plus, it’s not like people who don’t have soul mates are treated well. The treatment of the clones improved, a lot, as soon as people found out that they had soul mates too.

So, not only would she have felt alone…she would have been looked down on.

Poor thing. How is he supposed to apologize for that?

Wrecker trails after her, through the crowded streets, until she ducks down a much less busy street. He doesn’t mind if she knows that he’s following her, though he does slow down when an older man approaches her.

“Haze.”

“Suture.” Her voice is soft, but there’s steel underlying her voice.

Wrecker has never been more attracted to someone in his life.

“What happened? Did you finish the code?” Suture demands. 

“I finished it.”

“And?”

“I deleted it.”

There’s silence for a moment, and Wrecker moves closer, suddenly having a bad feeling as to this conversation. 

“You. You deleted it.” Suture repeats.

Haze’s eyes flicker to Wrecker, and then back to Suture, “I deleted it.”

“Why?” Suture asks through a laugh, “Why would you do that? This was our great equilizer. We were finally going to make them treat us the same—”

“It wouldn’t have worked. You’d be classified as a terrorist. And I don’t help terrorists.” Haze says strongly.

Suture lets out another disbelieving laugh, and he takes several steps away from her, before he spins and his fist collides with her cheek. Haze stumbles backwards, but Suture isn’t able to get off any more blows before Wrecker is between them.

“Maybe you should try beating up on someone a little bigger than her,” Wrecker growls, not the least bit afraid of using his size to intimidate the man who just attacked his soulmate.

Suture takes a step back, and then another one. And then he laughs, “You can’t protect her everywhere.” He threatens, “I will get my pound of flesh from her one way or another.”

The tension drains from Wrecker’s shoulders as Suture runs off, and he turns to look at Haze. She’s rubbing her rapidly bruising cheek, but she still won’t look at him. 

“Haze, right?” Wrecker ducks his head slightly to try and catch her eyes, “Are you alright?”

“Haze is fine. And I’m…fine. Just fine.” She pauses, “Sorry, again. You shouldn’t have had to get involved.”

“Of course I’m going to get involved. You’re my soul mate.” Wrecker says gently.

Her head snaps up, and Wrecker’s heart aches when he sees tears in her eyes, “That’s not right. I don’t have a soul mate.” The way she says it, as though the words are being ripped from her lips, makes him want to wrap her in his arms and promise that no one will ever hurt her again. 

“I don’t think that’s right,” Wrecker replies, gently reaching out to tuck a strand of hair off her face.

“It is right! There’s something wrong with me—”

“No.” Wrecker interrupts, “No, there isn’t.”

“How can you possibly know that?” She’s crying now, and this time Wrecker doesn’t stop from pulling her into his arms. Her hands curl into the thin material of his shirt, and Wrecker’s arms tighten around her.

“I’m a clone, Haze.” He whispers, “You never found anything of mine because I never had anything to lose.”

She shakes her head, as if she doesn’t believe him. 

“Hey, hey.” He brings his hands up to cup her face, “Look at me.” Her eyes are watery, and tears still roll down her face, and Wrecker still thinks she’s the most stunning woman he’s ever seen, “What does you’re heart tell you?”

She trembles under his hands, “That’s you’re my soul mate.” She admits.

“My heart tells me the same thing.” Gently, he wipes her tears off her face, “I’ve loved you since the first time you lost a shirt. It was black and red, and I turned it into a stuffed animal so I could keep it with me everywhere.”

A shaky laugh falls from her, “I remember that shirt. I thought mom threw it away because there was a massive hole in it.”

“There was a pretty big hole in it.” Wrecker admits, and then a small smile crosses his lips, “I still have them.”

“Them?”

“Everything you’ve ever lost. I keep them in a box under my bunk. Just waiting for the day that I’d meet you, so I could return them.”

She sniffles, “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that. It’s what soul mates do.” Wrecker ducks his head and lightly kisses a tear off her cheek, “So, how about we go back to the cafe? You can meet my brothers, and you can tell us about this Suture character?”

She shakes her head, “No, I need to leave. If he catches me alone, he’ll kill me.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

She stares at him, and then, slowly, a smile crosses her lips, “I guess, you are pretty big, aren’t you?”

“I’m gonna tell you a secret,” Wrecker leans in, “I’m also pretty protective.”

She looks surprised, and then a startled giggle falls from her lips. “Alright. I suppose I’d like to meet your brothers.”

Wrecker beams at her, “You’re going to be the happiest soul mate ever. You’ve had enough sadness for one lifetime.”

Haze ducks her head, “Yeah. I guess I have.”

[fangsandfracturedhearts]

Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Chapter 13: The Fallacy of Power

Summary: After embracing eternity as a vampire spawn under Astarion's wing, the Crimson Palace becomes a haunting symbol of the man he once was. As his personality unravels into a dark abyss, you flee. A year of hardship unveils the harsh reality of existence as a vampire spawn.

Just as all hope seems lost, a twist of fate reunites you with Astarion, revealing a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows. As you navigate the complexities of your relationship, you must confront the unsettling truth behind the Rite of Profane Ascension and the devilish secrets it holds.

In a race against time, you embark on a daring quest to save Astarion from his descent into darkness. With each choice you make, the stakes grow higher, testing the limits of your courage and determination.

Will Astarion find redemption, or is he destined to succumb to his own inner turmoil?

Word Count: 6.5k

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn

Warnings: [Will try to continue to add more, but in general expect explicit content for mature audiences]

Possible spoilers. Eventual Explicit Content. Slow Burn. Thoughts of Suicide. Violence. Blood. Injury. Mature Content. Self-Harm. Mentions of in-game content. Completely fabricated camp events. Mentions of Astarion's Trauma.

If you notice a very critical tag missing, please don't hesitate to let me know

Rating: Explicit 18+ - [Meant For Mature Audience]

TW: Astarion's past abuse under Cazador is mentioned/visited in this chapter.

She has been cold and withdrawn since their discussion when he refused to say what she wanted to hear. She avoids him if possible and ignores him unless he directly speaks to her. When she walks around the manor, she is like a phantom gliding, lifeless and vacant, the ghost of a ship long ago wrecked at sea that still wanders the waters wayward with no purpose. So far, he’s left her alone in her misery. Should he be trying to cheer her up? His heart tells him he should, but his head tells him it’s unbecoming of the Vampire Ascendant to postulate himself in such a way. He should not have to seek her attention. She should give it to him willingly. If she wishes to wallow in her desolation, so be it.

He’s missed her in their bed, against his skin, and on his lips. Her silence is as deep as demise and simultaneously deafening. He misses her laughter, happy giggles, and his name on her tongue in her sweet, musical voice. Hells, he would even take a scolding from her right now as long as she’s speaking and more expressive than this wall of dysphoria. He will take anything but this pale apparition of surrender and hopelessness. He’s tried to goad her into arguments if only to get a rise from her, but she does as he requests without question, challenge, or emotion.

She wants a real relationship, but what does that mean to him? What kind of relationship is he capable of giving her? That presence in his head bids him to control, claim, and make her belong to him with or without her consent. It encourages him to give the command to make it so. The Vampire Ascendant does not request love - he simply fucking takes it because he is entitled to it. He is entitled to have anything and everything he wants, including her.

No.

There his thoughts go again, getting away from him, towing him down like quicksand. He must be careful not to let himself be cast down that ungodly rabbit hole. He may not get the chance to surface. Astarion’s hands rack over his face and through his hair. He needs the physical sensation that often interrupts the slow descent into madness.

Astarion. He reminds himself. I am Astarion.

She does not acknowledge his presence when he enters the library. Her sullen eyes are moored to the book lying in her lap, and she flips the pages idly. She did not even bother to light any of the candles, scones or oil lamps. She sits in the shadows like a lone lily, white and fair, against a pond reflecting dusk.

He clears his throat to get her attention, “I need you to attend my business meeting with me today. It may put you in a position where you are… uncomfortable, but I will be there to protect and stop you if needed.”

She closes the book, staring straight vacantly, not bothering to look at him. Her voice is as whisper quiet as a catatonic echo, “You’re taking me to a business meeting?”

“Yes,” he replies softly, making his voice as warm as a summer day as if he could warm her with it. “I need my consort by my side.”

“I am not your consort, Astarion,” she shakes her head with a despondent expression. She is so cold it makes him shiver. He’s used to flames veritably leaping off her tongue when she speaks. This... He has never witnessed this in her, but he recognizes it. This is how he was when he all but gave up after a few lashings, “I will go with you if you need me, but I am not your consort.”

Please, don’t give up on me... just yet.

“If you do not like the word consort, that is fine,” he crouches and takes her hand. It remains limp, and she still does not look at him. Astarion gently cradles her cheek and walks her eyes to him. They seem to look through him instead of at him, and his heart seizes in his chest. “Tell me what you would prefer. Partner? Girlfriend? Soulmate? Bride? Hells, wife? Just tell me what you want me to say. Please.”

The words scour his tongue like steel wool. Can his spawn truly be his partner, girlfriend or… Good Gods, he said wife, didn’t he? Where in the Hells did that come from, and why does the notion fill him with genuine joy? Will he be able to see her as an equal? He is the Vampire Ascendant… No one is his equal, and no one could ever be. But he is also Astarion. Which him does he want to be? Does he even have a choice?

He stares at her, trying to discern how he views her. When he looks at her, does he see an equal? Or does he see his spawn, his puppet, his favourite little toy to play with? He views both versions in parallel spaces of his mind. He cannot ascertain which one is him and which is the Vampire Ascendant.

“Consort. Partner. Girlfriend. Soulmate. Bride. Wife,” she repeats hollowly as if she’s saying the words without thinking about them, just a recording being played back, “None of them because we are none of those.”

“Perhaps not yet,” he retorts with a plea clinging to his voice. “You said you want something real, and I agreed to try and give you just that. Let me try.”

“Are you capable of love,” she whispers, eyes drifting down to the floor.

“I… don’t know,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re view of what love is may differ from mine, but perhaps we can meet in the middle?”

“When do we leave?” She asks dryly and slips her hand out of his, “And what do I wear?”

“I had something made for you,” he smirks. “It’s in your room. Wear it or don’t. The choice is yours.”

“You’re giving me a choice?”

"Darling," he drawls in an unemotional infection, “I admittedly do not know much about relationships, but I don’t think forcing you to wear something would be very… nice. You are free to dress yourself in whatever you wish.”

“What if I decide I wish to wear a burlap sack?”

“Well…” he cringes. Gods. He would not put it past her doing just that to prove a point. Would he let her do that? Could he? His skin crawls just thinking about it. “You would look very foolish, but if anyone can pull it off, it’s you.”

Hells below, he hopes she does not wear a sack.

Truthfully, he does want to control what she wears, where she goes, and even how she does her hair and makeup, but he does not understand why he is so drawn to it. He does not recall feeling the need to be so controlling when he was a spawn. He must quell those desires and untoward thoughts if he has any hope of showing her that he can be what she wants and needs.

Because he needs her…

He’s almost afraid to look when she walks down the hall, scared she’s going to see if he truly means what he said, but he’s elated to see she decided to wear the ensemble he had fashioned. An extravagant, high-necked navy-blue robe with delicate golden lace sleeves and a bodice embellished with dragon wings with gleaming rose-gold scales to match hers.

His coat is very close, except it is raven black, inlaid with deep purple and golden embroidered dragons revolving around his arms. His chest is embellished with dragon wings expanding across the breast.

“Dragons?” Her hand glides down the breast of his coat, “I thought you were fonder of bats.”

“It seems I have become rather smitten with dragons as of late,” he winks. He feigns puzzlement, bringing his finger to his lips, “I wonder why.”

She gives him some semblance of a smile. It’s the first time he’s seen any emotion in days. It fades quickly, and her face is once again a smooth plane of vacancy.

“What do you mean I will be uncomfortable?” She mutters, eyes fixed straight ahead as if looking at him pains her like staring directly at the sun. “You promised you would not put me in a situation I cannot handle.”

“And I won’t. You have my word.” He bows slightly, “There will be people around. If you need to leave, you say the word, and we will go. You know I could compel you not to feel that hunger…”

She scowls at him and hisses, “Do it, and I will walk out that door. I will not return.”

Well, even anger is better than emptiness.

“It is just an offer,” he nods curtly with his hands up. “I would not do it without your expressed permission. Shall we go?”

You follow Astarion, twisting down alleys and paths in the Lower City. You refuse to hold his hand and are attempting to use pure willpower to ignore all the tasty citizens scurrying about. They smell good, and it’s making your mouth water. No matter how much you eat, bloodlust is insatiable, unquenchable and never fully slumbers. There’s always this stitch in your side and a dryness to your throat that will not ebb. When you smell blood, you are immediately starved, and your stomach pinches in your belly. It could easily send you into hysterics. Astarion always keeps a close eye, sticking by your side and matching your pace instead of his usual elongated strides.

You recognize the alley with the guards and the secret door, “The guild?”

“The very one,” he nods with a cunning smirk.

“Lord Ancunin,” the guard bows low and stiff. “I see you have brought a guest.”

“Lady Ancunin,” Astarion drawls, confident and poised. If your heart was beating, it would surely have skipped beats and possibly stopped. “She is to be treated with the same respect as I. You are to follow her orders as you would follow mine. Is that clear?”

“So you command, so shall it be,” the guard bows low before you. “Lady Ancunin.”

You stare detached past the guard, barely noticing the reverent display before you. A welcome numbness has incorporated itself into your psyche. You felt so much, and now you feel nothing. You’re not sure which is worse.

“Come,” Astarion gestures to the stairs.

The Guildhall has been rebuilt with more extravagance. The walkways are now properly constructed and far less shabby looking with richly coloured wood. It is organized, not the haphazard mess you remember. There are so many hearts beating the chant of life. Their blood smells like Elysian fields teeming with ichor blossoms. Pressing your eyes shut, you try to tune out the thump, thump, thump assaulting your ears. You clutch Astarion’s hand and squeeze as hard as you can.

Yes, this will be a challenge.

Astarion senses your apprehension and squeezes your hand reassuringly, “We can leave whenever you want. I do not have to be here long.”

“You operate the Guild now?”

“Yes and no,” he grins, devilish and handsome enough to make you melt despite your discomfort. “Nine Fingers still handles the mundane day-to-day. You know I have never been a details person.”

“How did this come about?”

“Simple,” he smiles wolfish and sly. His eyes glint mischievously. “If you know the right people to coerce, anything can be taken. Grease a few palms here, blackmail some merchants there. You know how it is.”

“Coerce or kill?”

“Well, negotiations don’t always go as planned,” he chuckles with a cavalier shrug. “But I do not go around killing everyone, just those who need killing anyway. Gods. What do you think of me? I’ve been manipulating people for 200 years. This was hardly a challenge.”

“Ah, Lord Ancunin,” Nine Fingers strides up with a tight look as if she’s working hard not to frown. “How nice of you to bless us with your presence. I do not believe we have a meeting scheduled for today.”

“I’m here to make sure you’re running my,” Astarion accentuates the word with a low, threatening growl, “Guild befittingly. I received reports of your idiot pickpockets getting caught by the authorities and inconsistent yields. Do I need to appoint someone more suitable for such a role?”

“Lord Ancunin,” Nine Fingers snickers, and you wonder how he hasn’t killed this one yet. She was always snarky. “The pickpockets have been dealt with. They did not even make it to prison. As for the yields, I’m looking into it. You will not find anyone more proficient at running your guild than I.”

Astarion and Nine Fingers continue to talk business. Boring. You walk away, down the stairs and watch the people flitting about, ledgers in hand, counting shipments of what looks like silk from Cormyr and imported liquor. Others with clearly stolen pieces of art and other antiquities. The bottom of that cesspool pit has been cleaned up, and it appears new tunnels have been put in place, with more still being constructed.

You catch bits and pieces of a conversation between a short, rotund man in a burgundy coat speaking about a shipment being lost or damaged. Leaning on a railing, you watch the conversation play out with a shrewd eye for a while before you make your way over there. The closer you get to people, the harder it is to control yourself, but you’re getting better.

You sit close to the conversation so you can listen and watch. Nine Fingers sits beside you, “I remember you. Jaheria’s friend, right?” she gives you a scrutinizing once over and then her eyes finally settle on yours. “I remember you being much more… alive the last time you were here. The lords doing, I presume.”

“I wanted it,” you growl through your clenched jaw. “There is nothing further to discuss on it.”

“I’ve seen his little compulsion trick,” she says sourly. “It’s not a stretch to believe-“

You cut her off by grabbing her by the neck and pushing her up against a support beam. The rhythmical pulsing of her vein is felt on the pads of your fingers. Good Gods, you are tempted to take a nibble. Just a little sip...

No. You throw her away from you before you lose your precarious control.

“Watch your tongue,” you snarl, baring your teeth. “I am just as deadly as the lord.”

“Deadlier even.” Astarion chuckles, leaning close to your ear, “Are you okay?”

“I’m managing…” you whisper. Raising your voice, you point to the man, “Who is that?”

“A local merchant. He caters to the aristocracy.” Astarion arches a brow, “Why?”

“You were talking about inconsistent yields,” you watch the man circumspective, who now stares at you wide-eyed. “I think you will find he is the reason for some or all of your inconsistencies.” You sneer at the little fleshy liar, “Won’t we?"

“No,” Nine Fingers interjects. “That can’t be. He’s been working with the Guild for many years and is well-known and respected by the patriars. He’s an invaluable asset.”

“Silence!” Astarion orders brusquely, making her flinch. “Your superiors are having a discussion.” Astarion’s fingers come to his chin. “Go on, darling. How do you know?”

“His speech pattern is all over the place. He does not make direct eye contact. He’s fidgeting nervously. I can hear his heartbeat kick up from here every time he has to alter his story, and he’s sweating like a pig,” you smirk. You are good at this, and it feels natural. You give the man a grin as you virtually hear his heart sink, “You are a terrible liar. I think you’ve picked the wrong business.”

“Well,” Astarion cocks his head while watching the man as sweat rains down his face, “Let’s find out, shall we?” He points at the rotund traitor, “You. Come here.”

“Y-yes, Lord Ancunin.”

Astarion hauls the man into the air by his coat with an eerily cordial smile, “You’ve been stealing from me. Come clean now, and I will consider allowing you to keep your pathetic life.”

You expected to hear the anger in Astarion’s voice, but it’s matter-of-fact and impassive.

“My lord,” the man’s eyes widen, and his feet kick uselessly in the air. “I would never dream of it. Honest!”

Astarion’s eyes glow that wicked crimson of compulsion, and he brings the man close to his face, “You will tell me the truth. How long have you been stealing?”

The man’s eyes become glossy as the red tendrils of compulsion twist around him and into his mind. His body becomes limp. “I will tell the truth.” He repeats hollowly. “I have been skimming off the top for years. I misconstrue reported earnings and inventory, record shipments as lost or damaged and keep them for myself.”

The man continues spewing his transgressions, and you can see the rage start building in Astarion.

“That wasn’t so hard. Was it?” Astarion smiles manically. His eyes start to flash as he draws his dagger.

You put your hand on his shoulder, “Astarion…” You soothe and request the connection with his mind. You do not want to undermine him, but you need him to stay in control. He opens it, and you wince at the pain that splits through your head. It feels as if your skull has been cracked open. You push through it and roll your thoughts over the bridge, “His death will not gain you anything, Astarion. Hold onto yourself.”

His muscles strain under your fingers, and sweat starts to sheen his skin, but he answers in your thoughts, “His death would serve as a reminder to these insolent fucks that no one betrays the Vampire Ascendant and lives.”

“Astarion, please.”

“I am the Vampire Ascendant!” He bellows in your head so hard you wonder if your ears are bleeding, leaking your brain matter.

“Is that all you are? Is that your entire identity?”

He growls viciously aloud, snarling and turning his head to look at you with violence humming in his flickering eyes. With a pained grunt, Astarion throws the man on the ground and hisses, “Leave. If I ever see you in my city again, I will kill you and your family.”

Astarion whirls, taking your chin roughly in his fingers, bringing his mouth to yours, savage and hungry, with enough force to split and bruise your lips. You can hear that tittering in his head, straining against his control, trying to claim him. It bites like a serrated blade at your mind, and Astarion tries to close the connection to save you from that pain, but you rue against it.

“Don’t,” you think. “I can be your light. I can help you, but you have to let me.”

His fingers curl into your hair, and his tongue laps at the blood smeared across your lips, sucking on the cut gently. Your fingers caress the back of his neck. You’re not exactly sure how you do it, but as if on instinct, you flood Astarion with every iota of your love, light and fire into his psyche, upending the darkness and silencing his demons.

His body relaxes. His fingers no longer grip aggressively but embrace, and he breaks the kiss, resting his forehead on yours as he pants. As your senses return to you, so does the angelic chorus of beating hearts and the enticing smell of blood, and you clench your jaw as your stomach does cartwheels in your abdomen. Your fingernails incise your palm.

“I’ve got you, my treasure.” Astarion interlocks his fingers with yours to stop you. “Hold onto me.”

Astarion turns to Nine Fingers. She’s staring at you with a speculatively arched brow, “We will be taking our leave now. I expect to see improved totals on your subsequent report, or we will have a very unpleasant discussion, and if any more pickpockets get caught, you will not be calling yourself Nine Fingers any longer. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Lord Ancunin,” she nods curtly with a twisted mouth and narrowed eyes. “Do bring your spawn along more often. She is incredibly useful, it seems.”

Astarion roars, slamming Nine Fingers against a wooden column, splitting it. He bellows when he speaks, making sure everyone can hear him, “No one is to call her “spawn.” If I hear anyone utter that word in reference to her, I will hang them from the rafters by their intestines while they still draw breath.” Astarion looks around with a frightening scowl, verifying everyone is paying attention, “She is my right hand, and you will treat her with due respect. Any orders from her should be treated as if they are coming from me directly.”

“Astarion,” you whimper, scratching lacerations into the top of your hand to keep yourself grounded. “I need to go.”

He releases Nine Fingers, spins and grabs your hand. He keeps a tight hold on you until you’re back in the alley. He orders the guards to stand further away. You sprint to the dead end and grip a fence as hard as you can, taking in large gasps of air to try and quiet the bloodlust ravaging your mind, bullying you into mania. Astarion’s hands come to the rail on either side of you, caging you in with his chest pressed against your back.

“You did well in there,” he purrs. “Controlling the bloodlust.”

“You could have warned me that I would want to eat everyone with a beating heart,” you groan, leaning into him.

“I suppose I could have been a tad more forthcoming,” he chuckles, kissing the top of your head. “To be fair, I was a young spawn centuries ago. It’s not exactly fresh in my mind.”

“How did you learn to control it?” you sigh. You’re falling into him again, slipping into that blissful completeness that melts that icy numbness keeping you sane.

There’s a quiver of torment that dithers across the harmony. “Cazador…” he starts, spoken with a desolate undertone. He folds his arms around you, holding you close, and he trembles, “Cazador would starve me and then have people stand in the kennels while I was chained or caged. He would cut them, small at first, but gradually worse. They would get progressively closer. If I made a move or lost control in any way, I would be punished. Severely.” He pauses with a sigh, and his brows turn down at the sides. “I lost control a lot.”

By the Gods. You would not have been able to understand how torturous that would be without being a vampire yourself. Bloodlust hurts, a physical pain that progressively gets steadily worse until you are nothing but a writhing, rabid animal with no semblance of sentience.

“Astarion…” you turn to him, wrapping your arms around him. “That’s… Gods, there are no words. I’m so sorry.”

“Come,” he clears his throat, uncomfortable with the emotion as if he does not believe he deserves your empathy. “Let’s go home.”

“Thank you for telling me.” You murmur, hoping you’re not overstepping, “About… him. I know you don’t like to talk about it.”

“Partners talk about this type of stuff openly, yes?”

“I…” you balk at the question. It seems so out of character for him. You expected him to ignore you or scold you for bringing it up further. “I suppose they do, but-“

“Yes,” he cuts you off. “I know what we aren’t. You keep reminding me every chance you get. You requested real and real you shall have. I never wanted you to see that side of me.” Astarion sighs and looks at the setting sun reverently, his face softening, a glimpse of his former self, “Cazador is no longer an off-limits topic for you.”

What?

Can you trust him not to fly into a blind rage when you speak of his former self, the pathetic spawn he is so genuinely disgusted with? Perhaps this is not the time to test the limits of this newfound freedom.

“Lady Ancunin?” You quirk a brow at him. “That’s not my name.”

“Not as of yet, it’s not,” his arm wraps around your waist, and a smile flashes over his face like wintry sunshine. He whispers, “You bear my name beautifully, my love.”

Your eyelashes flutter open, and you’re shocked to be in the familiar halls of the Crimson Palace, but it does not appear as you remember it. Everything is washed in a drab sepia tone, and you blink, trying to clear your vision. The walls and floors appear to wave as if they are an illusion. Servants blink in and out of existence as they flit around. You try to walk in the way of them, waving your arms to get their attention, but they pay you no heed, blinking out and reappearing behind you.

A scream you would recognize anywhere reverberates through the ghostly halls, shrill and bone-chilling.

Astarion…

You sprint toward the sound, descending the dark staircase two or three steps at a time that appears to end in a black well of nothingness. You’re trying to grip the weave and call on your magic, but when you reach for it, you find nothing but a yawning void where it should be. Staring at your palm, you shake it, confused, as you burst into the hall leading to the spawn quarters. Another cry echoes. You forget about your lack of magic as horror grips your heart, and you sprint around the corner and halt dead in your tracks.

Astarion stands in the hallway. He’s hunched over with hands pressed against the doorframe as he stares distantly into the room before him - the kennels. He is the only thing in undulled, vivid colour. It’s a stark contrast to the atmosphere of mousy undertones.

“Astarion?”

He jolts, whirling and staring at you with a disoriented tangle of sorrow and perplexity. His jaw tightens, and his eyes shift quickly from side to side, “No,” he mutters, shaking his head, “No, this isn’t right. You would not have been here.”

“What’s going on?” You sputter, voice breaking. “I don’t understand.”

Another strident shriek. You are stirred into action, dashing down the hall at full speed. Astarion’s eyes widen as he gauges your target, and he takes long steps to cut you off. His arm wraps around your waist, hauling you backward from the open doorway.

“No, darling,” he coos, trying to swath his voice in velvet. “You don’t want to go in there. Please, trust me on this.”

“What?” You’re panicked, clawing at him, trying to push his arms away. “I can’t just stand here! Let me go!”

“You can’t help him… Me. You can’t help me.” Astarion rasps. His eyes are sad, but he tries to smile. “This is long over and done. It’s a memory - my memory.”

Anguished wailing reverberates, making the walls appear to shudder. You can’t take it, you can’t fucking take it, and you push out of Astarion’s arms and charge into the kennels.

The scene that greets you makes tears instantly flow down your cheeks, and you can’t help but dry heave as your stomach shoots into your throat.

“That’s right, my boy.” Cazador snickers, compulsion glowing in his eyes, tendrils stirring the air. “Sing those sweet, sweet cries for me.”

You try to grab Cazador, screaming in anguish, but your hand swishes straight through the apparition. Arms come around your waist, hauling you up and out of the room while you reach and clamber, trying to do something. Anything.

Astarion sets you down, folding his arms around you, “Shhh, little love,” he purrs. “It will be alright.”

“Astarion,” you sob, knees quaking. Astarion braces you against himself, “What in the Hells is happening?”

“I’m not entirely sure. We are tranced, in the manor, I think. This... it already happened long ago. So long, I cannot even recall the colours anymore.”

His thumb clears the rivulets of tears storming down your cheeks so sweetly, like the whisper of a fairy dream. His eyes, so intensely crimson, are doting, inviting you to get lost in them.

Another soul-crushing outcry discharges from the room, and you can’t help but scream with him. Astarion firmly but gently places his hands over your ears, trying to provide you amnesty from the howling cries.

You lean into him and beg, tugging on his clothes, “Make it stop, Astarion. Good Gods. Make it stop. Please. I can’t… I can’t… Wake us up.”

“I’m trying,” he breathes faintly, pressing harder on your ears as another jarring yowl rolls over you, and you start slipping to the floor in a puddle of sorrow.

Everything dissolves around you, turning black and silent, and you’re pitched into a bottomless void that makes your stomach lurch.

You thrash in your bed, convulsing so violently that you throw yourself to your hands and knees on the floor with a discordant shriek. Your bedsheets and clothes are soddened with sweat, the delicate fabric clinging to your body, and you tremble so turbulently that you can barely push yourself to your feet.

You blink rapidly, trying to see through the distortion caused by unshed tears. Your chest heaves in quick, rapid breaths as you sprint into the hallway. Astarion is already running toward you, and you slam into his arms as your legs give way.

“It’s okay,” he comforts you with a soft, deep baritone, a salve to your pain. “Everything is alright.”

Your mind sees that gruesome vision, a ghostly layer veiling the man before you. Your stomach twists and knots. Saliva floods your mouth. Pushing out of his hold, you scramble away as far as you can, and your liquid dinner is a sanguine spill spreading across the floor. Astarion holds your hair back and rubs your back as you continue to dry heave between your rapid breaths.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out between sobs.

“It is I who should be sorry,” he sits on the chaise, beckoning you into his arms. You curl up in his lap once the wave of nausea eases, desperate to be close to him. Astarion strokes your arm, “I left the connection open. I did not know you could get transported into my dreams. I will not make that mistake again.”

You look up, cupping his cheek in your palm and searching his eyes. That beautiful face is calm and carpeted with earnest affection but otherwise unfazed while he sweeps strands of your hair behind your ear, “Are you okay?”

“My sweet, sweet girl,” he kisses your palm. “I have relived many of my memories hundreds of times over. There are only a few that truly disturb me anymore. Thank you for asking, but I am fine.”

“Okay...” you breathe deeply, unsure if your mind can accept how undaunted he is. The last remnants of your weeping shudder through your body, “I’ll clean that up.”

Pushing yourself away from him is a monumental task. He is warm like sunshine and comforting like darkness. You hate him a little for being so… him.

“Will you come to bed?” Astarion looks at you longingly. “ Our bed, I mean.”

“No.”

“When are you going to stop punishing me?” He laments, following you while you grab a rag and bucket of soapy water from the rarely used kitchen.

“I’m not punishing you for anything, Astarion.”

“Bullshit.” He exclaims sourly. “Do not think me blind. You’ve been ignoring and avoiding me purposefully. I- I miss you.” Astarion’s arms fall limp at this side, “Tell me how to make it right.”

You hand Astarion a cup, “Break this.”

His brows pinch as he turns the cup over and over. He looks at you, confused, but throws it to the floor, shattering it. “What was the point of that?”

“Now, fix it.”

“I have many mind-blowing abilities,” he stares at the shattered pieces strewn across the floor, brows pinched. “Fixing broken goblets is not one of them.”

“Because not everything can be fixed."

You start wiping up your sick in the tense muteness between you and Astarion. He sits on the chaise, just watching with a grief-stricken expression that makes you want to weep.

“I can run up walls, walk upside down on ceilings, turn into a bat and mist, among other things. All this power…” A low laugh rumbles in his chest, crestfallen and mournful. “All this fucking power,” he clenches his fists, craning his head to look up at the ceiling, “and I still cannot have the one thing in the world I want most.” He sighs, shaking his head. Astarion cocks his head to look at you and smiles bleakly, “Sleep tight, my love.”

Astarion disappears into his room, and you bite your tongue to stifle your crying. After you’ve finished cleaning up and are back in your bed, you toss restlessly. How long will this harrowing purgatory go on? You take deep breaths, but it does not even begin to fill the void in your chest. You are fragmented without him in your head or against your skin. As if you’re soul has deformed, warped and splintered into a mangled husk.

This is why you’ve been avoiding Astarion. His words tear your heart open, dissect it, and then you must stitch yourself up anew. How many times can your chest be torn open and your heart ripped to pieces before the scarps are too small to glue back together?

I don’t care.

I don’t care.

I don’t care.

Who the fuck am I kidding?

In the hall, you jump at the sight of Astarion halfway up the long corridor. He halts, and you stare at each other in reticence. His hair is a disarrayed jumble of soft silver curls. The moonlight streaming in from the windows brilliantly sets the ivory skin of his bared chest aglow. His shoulders are slumped in a disconsolate stature you’re not used to seeing on him. The iron countenance and steely confidence he oozes are absent.

“Love,” he whispers wearily. “Lay with me tonight.” Astarion gestures toward himself, splaying his hand on his bare chest. Desperation clings to his voice, “Be with me. We can workshop the details as we go.”

“Tell me you love me,” you say, moon-eyed, lips quivering.

“I-I,” he pauses. Anticipation clenches your heart in your chest. Please, you think, please just fucking say it so we can stop playing this game. You think he just might until he grimaces. “I can’t.”

“No. Of course, you can’t,” you mewl. You wrap yourself in your comfortable cloak of numbness to preserve your sanity, “Because how could you love a lowly spawn like my good self?”

He does not answer, and that is answer enough.

You’re crouched low in a dark alley, skulking around in the shadows in the Lower City. Astarion went out to deal with some business you were not invited to, so you’ve taken the chance to survey the tavern you last saw that purple-haired bitch at - Elowyn. Your intuition tells you she has something to do with the Gur attacks, regardless of Astarion’s assurances that she’s harmless. The earth-shatteringly handsome man can be blinded by his overconfidence at times.

You’re not sure what Astarion will do if he gets home and you’re nowhere to be found, but you left him a note saying you went for a walk. He probably won’t tear the city apart looking for you. You’re not a caged bird. You can come and go as you please.

... Right?

You’re about to give up for the night when you see her. She glances out the tavern doors, askant, surveying her surroundings before pulling up her hood and slinking down the street. Elowyn takes an oddly winding route, up and down dark alleys and paths, often doubling back. She strolls confidently but takes acute notice of her surroundings. She is practiced and methodical in the way she observes. You should have eaten her when she cornered you with her singsong voice and dainty little face, spewing filth and lies. Maybe you should eat her now…

No, no. You can eat her after you figure out what she’s up to. You smile sadistically at the promise to yourself, licking your lips. You will eat her when you’ve ascertained how she means to harm your master.

Gods. Where did that thought come from?

Elowyn turns abruptly down a side street. Casting Misty Step, you appear on a roof, crouch at the edge and watch her intently. She walks up and down the pathway, looking in all directions except up, much to your delight.

Hardly anyone looks up.

She leans down and opens the entrance to the sewers, climbing down and replacing the cover. The sewers… You fucking hate the sewers. It’s the last place you want to follow her, but nothing can deter you.

This place is a maze of tunnels and run-offs. It’s an arduous task to track her with any degree of certainty. The rayless, glum passageways look similar, but you glimpse her here and there. Her course is consistent with the streets above as she makes arbitrary turns left and right, retracing her steps before continuing. It makes you question if she spotted you and is just taking you on a wild goose chase for shits and giggles, but it’s doubtful. There is purpose in Elowyn’s steps, even if you’re not quite able to understand it yet.

Elowyn steps onto the wooden platform, pulls the lever, and floats up the nauseating river of excrement and contamination. You recognize the area she is going to by smell alone. She’s heading into the lowest floors of the ruined temple under the Crimson Palace. You frown. You’ve been all through those lower, ravaged corridors.

You used to try and hide from Astarion down there, but he always found you. You shudder at the memories of playing some sick, twisted version of hide and seek, where the consequences were more dire than being tagged “it.”

What could be down there that’s of any interest to her? Does Astarion know? Is that where he set the Drow up to do her assessments? Unlikely. He would not want Araj that close to home.

There’s a barely perceptible shift in the atmosphere. The chilled air starts to warm unnaturally, embers floating around. Your skin prickles as the hair on the back of your neck and arms rises. You smell the smoky stench and pollution of sulphur crawling through the air. It stings your nostrils, twisting in the back of your nose and down your throat, choking you. A liquid black maw opens in the stone before your feet, and the inky, viscid silhouette emerges from the gaping orifice, taking shape and wings stretching with a boastful flare.

You jump backward, filling yourself with the Weave, heating your palms and skin with spells dancing on your fingertips and primed on your tongue.

“Darling,” a toothy grin greets you. “Now, now, Sorceress. Put those spells of yours to rest. Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

“Mizora.”  

Big thank you for everyone who takes the time to read/reblog/comment, and all the other magnificent things. As always, I hope you enjoy this, darlings!

AO3 [Crossposted]

Master List of Chapters: Fangs and Fractured Hearts

If you're interested I write another fic with Spawn Astarion x Tav called - Shadows of the Past

Small Notes:

It's never a good sign when Mizora shows up. We are getting into the thick of it now :)

[damn-stark]

Chapter 37 Strong heart

Chapter 37 of Sugar

A/N- I hope you guys like it :) I liked writing this chapter

Warning- Swearing, ANGST, FLUFF, violence and blood, talks of DEATH, and pregnancy, flashback, SPOILERS!!!! long chapter!

Pairing- Choso x Gojo!fem-reader, Suguru Geto x Gojo!fem-reader

Episode and or chapters- Chapter 243 to chapter 253

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

Choso’s not responding, why is he not responding?

You take a step closer but stop out of fear that you’ll meet up with a corpse.

“Ch…” You trail off in a quivering voice and continue watching his unmoving body.

Please don’t be dead. Please don’t be gone, please…

You force yourself to go to him, but you head to him slowly because your fear of losing him is polluting your mind. After all, when you found Suguru last year he was on the ground, bleeding out, barely alive, and missing an entire arm. What if you come across that horrifying scene again, but this time you don’t even get to say goodbye?

“Choso?” Your voice comes out hoarse as your need to cry weakens it. “Choso?”

You cast a shadow over him as you stop a foot away from him because you’re scared if you get too close you won’t hear him breathe.

“Choso?” You basically plead.

And this time, at last, you catch his fingers shift on the ground—but! Does that mean he’s okay? You see a lot of blood staining his clothes, and two giant fist-sized holes on the back of his vest.

Choso then slowly lifts his head and you hold your breath when you meet his honey-imbued eyes. He mutters your name as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing, and his pupils dilate as he keeps watching you with the rays of the sun shining around your head like a glorious halo.

You step closer and pull the worm cursed-spirit off your shoulders to try and crouch, but Choso pushes himself up and that’s when you freeze completely because of the two gaping wounds you see close to his side. You can’t see through them, it seems like they went all the way through since there’s holes on his back, but there’s raw flesh now that makes his wound look like two dark voids.

“Choso,” you gasp.

Said man doesn’t seem to believe you’re real, he just studies your face as if he’s admiring some painting for a lingering moment before he lunges forward and throws his arms around you.

And you can't believe his chest was moving with signs of life, that you're actually looking into his pretty eyes until you feel his warmth and his strong arms around you. “Choso,” you whisper in disbelief and cling onto him.

“My love,” he whispers. “You’re okay. You’re safe, you’re back to me.”

His voice is so comforting, so soft and soothing. You wish you could say it kills the fear you felt clinging onto your heart, but you won’t stop being afraid about his well-being until you’re walking out of this fight hand in hand.

“You’re alive,” you point out to yourself. “Why didn’t you answer me? I was calling out your name?”

Choso pulls back and grabs onto your jaw to tilt your head and then step back to study your body for any wounds he might’ve missed.

“I’m okay,” you assure him as you watch his eyes roam your body. “We’re okay, Kenjaku didn’t even touch me.”

Choso’s eyes snap to you and he doesn’t seem to believe you, so you grab his hand and yank it down to put over your belly. “Remember you can feel them. They’re okay, yes?”

Choso holds your gaze as he searches within himself for the confirmation over the twins' status. And once he’s assured that they’re okay just like you told him, he sighs with relief and once again holds your face with both hands to check you out one more time.

“I’m okay,” you whisper and caress his shoulder with a sweet smile.

He lets out a deep breath and nods in comprehension, and as he stays attached to you, you slip your hands down to his chest with a smile still glued to your face, and then shove him back with your face quickly twisting to show your anger.

“You scared me!” You scold him. “I kept calling out to you, I texted you twice and you didn’t answer me. I thought…I…” you trail off and swiftly turn on your heels to catch your breath and stop yourself from crying.

You already cried so much today, that you don’t want to keep crying.

“I’m sorry,” Choso quickly tries to comfort you. “I just didn’t want you to see me hurt. I wanted to heal before you got to me, I’m sorry,” he whispers those last two words as he grabs your shoulder.

You turn your face away and lift your hand to gnaw on your nail. “How…how did it happen?” Your voice comes out muffled.

Choso sighs. “Sukuna surprised me. He was too fast, I tried to use piercing blood, but from one second to another he was before me and jammed his hands through me.”

Any higher and he would’ve hit his core, and his heart, Choso was close to death, he could’ve died. You were close to being a widow once again, you were close to having to live without him.

“I should’ve been more careful,” he adds sincerely.

Yes, and no. He was just trying to help the best he could, he didn’t expect to get hurt the way he did, but you can’t help but be upset because he was so close to death.

“You,” you spat and snap your head around to pierce your glare at him, but when you meet his guilt-filled eyes, when you see the life in his eyes your anger falls and your relief completely takes over, making you throw your arms around his neck instead.

“I’m happy you’re okay,” you whisper in his ear. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

Choso balls your clothes as he grabs onto your back and breaks the truth. “We’re still not done yet.”

Your breath trembles, but you don’t let his comment bring you down. “I know but let me just appreciate you’re okay for now.” You say and snuggle your face in the crook of his neck.

Choso hums and keeps holding you for as long as you need until you remember what you have and pull apart with a smirk. “I have something I want to show you,” you clue him in even though he might have an idea.

The worm returns to your shoulders as you pull your phone out that contains a glimpse at the promise you kept him. “Now, I know it’s not here physically, but I did complete my promise to you,” you assure him as you hold his gaze so he knows you’re being sincere.

You quickly find the photo of his father's brain and slowly show it to him. “Shoko is going to keep it safe for you so it doesn’t get crushed here, but,” you slowly trail off and let him take the phone. “You and your brother can rest easy now that he won’t be roaming this earth.”

Choso clenches his jaw and anger passes behind his eyes, but it’s all then quickly replaced by relief, and then lastly sorrow that brings tears to the corner of his eyes. And you can’t imagine it’s sorrow for his father's death, he hated his father, so it must be sorrow born from joy more than anything; joy that at long last a monster who terrorized him, his brothers, and his mother is finally gone.

It was all thanks to you.

“Your mother and your brothers can rest now too,” you tell him softly. “He won’t torment anyone anymore.”

Choso looks at you and his eyes gleam with awe and joy. “Thank you,” he muses as he gives you back your phone to tuck it away. “Thank you for doing this for me and for my family.”

You offer him a gentle smile and reach over to wipe a tear off his cheek. “You welcome and if it wasn't just me, it was Okkotsu too, but you are welcome.”

Choso grabs your hand to give it a gentle squeeze, and as he holds your gaze the love he has for you only heightens and grows more passionate and tender. He also thanks the stars and fate for letting your paths intertwine.

“What will you do with it?” You ask Choso, making him snap from his stupor to glare at the ground with a seething anger as if his father was there.

“Burn it,” he sneers, “and then I’ll disintegrate those ashes until there’s nothing left. I don’t want to give him even the slightest chance of coming back, especially not now that we're going to have children.”

You hum and nod in comprehension.

“I wish I could do it now,” he grumbles, “but it seems we don’t have the time.”

You hum in agreement and wait in his silence as he lets his mind process all that you just revealed to him, and all the emotions he was just hit with. You don’t rush him and let him fill the silence all on his own.

Albeit when he does he catches you guard.

“Did you…” Choso pauses, making you look back at him with a soft curious look—“recover Suguru Geto’s body?”

You blink in surprise and avert your gaze to nod. “Yes,” you respond quietly. Again not out of shame, you just don’t know how much you should talk about Suguru with Choso.

“Shoko says she can mend the wounds we left him and get rid of the those nasty stitches Kenjaku left,” you share with a faint smile, and when you look over you see Choso struggling to keep his eyes on you.

It’s probably just as awkward for him as it is for you.

“That’s good. Satori will be able to look at her father one last time without thinking about Noritoshi,” he says what you thought about too. “And you,” he pauses. “Will be able to put him to rest too.”

You sigh and nod. “Yeah,” you mumble. “I know…It’s not weird, is it? Talking about him?”

Choso keeps his eyes on his hand clutching onto his wound and blinks before he shakes his head. “No…it’s just…strange, but it’s something I know shouldn’t bother me.” He finally looks over at you and looks at you with a guilty look. “Don’t think you have to avoid talking about him in front of me…I understand he was your husband. You loved him.”

You hold his gaze as you feel your heart envelope in warm bliss and awe that could almost mend your shattered heart.

“You’re sweet,” you coo and grab his chin with your thumb and pointer finger to lean in and press a gentle peck on his lips. “This is why I love you.”

The corner of Choso’s pink lips tug up and his hand cups your wrist to caress your skin and send waves of comfort throughout your aching body.

“Now,” you change the subject as you slide your hand over to take his hand. “Why don’t we go sit so you can finish healing before we meet up with Yuji? I have something to show you.” You bounce your eyebrows and flash him a giddy grin.

Choso studies you and this sudden burst of excitement that he knows isn't just caused by anything, there’s a specific reason behind your outburst and he assumes one thing. “Did Satori send you something?”

You walk him toward a nearby wall since there’s no benches anywhere nearby.

“No,” you tell him and peer back at him with your lips and eyes hard to read. “Manami and Toshihisa were going to keep her distracted all day today. I didn’t want to risk having her catch a glimpse of the broadcast. So she’s too busy having fun.” You assume, but you also know that it’s not too far-fetched considering who’s taking care of her.

“It’s something else,” you tease him and sit you both down on the cold ground and press your backs against the wall. “Are you ready?” You only begin to excite him now.

“I don’t know if I should be,” Choso remarks nonchalantly.

You giggle as you pull out your phone and meet his gaze to pass him a giddy look that causes a gleam to spark in your eyes, and makes his heart skip a beat.

“Shoko checked on me after I got back,” you begin to explain to him as you surf on your phone until you find the video you just took of the twin's heartbeat—“and she heard this.”

You press play and push the phone near him so he can see the screen, even if it’s just Shoko pressing the wand against your belly.

At first, though Choso doesn’t seem to understand what he hears, he thinks that the two running hearts are just your own heart racing too fast.

“I don’t—” just before he can express his concern though his mouth goes agape and his eyes widen.

“It’s their heartbeats,” you make it clear so he can process the news faster. “It’s Suki and…”

“…Tsukuyomi,” Choso finishes for you, making you beam at him and nod in confirmation. He then carefully takes the phone from you to pull the phone closer to his ear.

“That’s them, that’s their hearts,” he muses.

You watch as his eyes cloud with blissful tears, and his smile spreads with a tender adoration dancing on his lips.

“They sound strong,” you repeat what Shoko told you. “They have strong hearts.”

Choso tears his eyes away from the video and looks at you with even more tenderness that softens his eyes and makes his eyes glimmer. “Just like you,” he whispers confidently because out of all the things he knows, he knows he’s more than sure about that.

You hear it, the sincerity behind his tone and you can’t help but also redirect it at him. “And you.”

Choso’s smile fills with more admiration and he responds by leaning in and pressing a kiss on your forehead.

You smile softly with glee and take his hand before you rest your head on his shoulder and listen to the video one more time to use that as a sliver of joy in this storm of agonizing sorrow.

After Choso plays the video a couple more times he rests his head on yours and gently squeezes your hand in the silence he keeps. You can’t help but keep smiling as you think about your dream of growing your family, of raising your children the way you wanted to be raised and loving them with your husband who loves you unconditionally.

What more could you ask for—

Oh…

Satoru…right.

No matter what he was always in your future, even if you imagined him distant when you didn’t talk, he was still there in the background of your dreams. Now…where he once was is replaced by a black void that slowly swallows everything and leaves you hopeless for the future.

“Once this is done,” you break the silence to avoid drowning in your grief. “The snakes will lash out at the Gojo clan.”

“What do you mean?” Choso probes a bit confused.

“They won’t accept my daughter as their leader so they’ll try and replace her with one of my male cousins most likely,” you explain and already start to feel irritated.

“Even if your brother left in his will that he wants Satori to be leader after him?”

You nod. “Yeah, one, my daughter wasn't raised with the Gojo’s, two she's a woman, and three her last name is Geto and she didn’t inherit her father's technique.” You sigh but smirk mischievously. “Not like it really matters, sure it’s annoying, but I’ll go chop off a few heads to make them listen, and if Satori chooses not to be leader, well, I’ll take her place and pass on the title to one of our children. Hence following the procession of the clan with my line.”

That will surely teach your family for mistreating you!

You love being spiteful.

“Are you sure?” Choso surprises you by asking.

You pull away from his side and meet his gaze with a serious and determined pointed look. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” you swear.

Choso didn’t want to try and argue or convince you that it was a bad idea, all he needed was to ask if that’s what you really wanted to do. Now that he has his answer he’ll leave it be and let you do as you please and what best suits your daughter, and your brother's wishes because it’s what he would do too if he was in your shoes.

“I know it hasn’t been long, but how’s your wound?” You interject as you turn around to sit on your knees and grab his vest and robe to pull it aside so you can check out his wound yourself.

“I feel better,” he tries to assure you, even if you look at his wound right now and see that it’s still pretty deep. They’re not as deep as before, but they’re not near closing yet. However, you know you can’t reason with Choso, not when Yuji is still in commission, as well as you. You would need to knock him out cold to get him to sit back.

“Cho,” you still try to argue regardless. “I see—”

“I’m okay, I can keep fighting,” he cuts you off a bit harshly so you won’t try and argue again. “Don’t worry about me right now.”

You drop your eyes to the two holes in his flesh and groan before you steal a glimpse at his blood-stained abs and let his clothes go to fall back into his place.

“We should…find Yuji,” you bring up a bit begrudgingly. Only because you wish he’d heal 150 percent.

“That’s what I was thinking,” he says as he stands on his feet.

“That’s what I was thinking,” you mock under your breath as you follow him up.

Alas, he catches you and slowly cranes his head back to look at you with his thick eyebrows furrowed.

You sass him and shoot him a pointed look that makes him scoff before he steps aside to let you walk ahead as he keeps an eye out from behind.

However, he’s not looking out for Yuji, he’s watching out for trouble that might try and catch you off guard. Even if Sukuna is fighting alone and he has no reason to come after either of you unprovoked, it would still be stupid to not be looking over your shoulders.

“I hope you know the moment you get hurt I will throw you over my shoulder,” Choso proclaims, making you smirk and look back at him.

“Oh really?” You say teasingly, causing his eyes to snap to you, however he doesn’t catch your flirtatious smile.

“Really,” he says seriously.

Your smirk deepens and your voice turns silkier. “Why don’t you try it out right now? Just show me how you’ll do it, hm?”

Choso blinks and is finally hit with the realization of what you’re really getting at. “Oh…well…I can show you,” he tries his best to hit you back with something flirty just as smoothly as you.

“I might argue,” you say and come to a stop so he can fall right behind you, to the point his chest grazes your back—“what will you do then?”

Choso swallows thickly and glances at your lips, making you steal a glimpse at his own before you turn around and show him an example with a short kiss.

“There’s one way to keep me quiet or…?” You trail off so he can finish.

“Or,” he trails on as he holds your gaze completely star-struck. “I can,” he pauses and raises his hand to let it hover over your mouth and make sure you’re okay with what he’s doing. When he notices that you aren’t protesting, and keep waiting with a smirk on your face, Choso gently presses his hand against your lips and slowly lets his thumb graze over your bottom lip as he holds your gaze.

Your heart skips a beat with excitement and his pounds, but even as he stands there nervously he still gently penetrates the tip through your lips. When he feels the warmth and wetness of your mouth he shoves his whole thumb in, making you suck gently before you pull away from his touch and laugh.

Not at him. Of course. You laugh with excitement, having forgotten for a moment what tormented you, and steal a passionate kiss that you savor before you press your forehead on his and grab the back of his neck.

Choso lets out a deep breath and cups your cheeks to caress your jawline with his thumb, making you lean your face towards one side to steal one more moment of comfort.

Just a short moment before you both pull away and continue down your path side by side.

After a few moments of walking, you finally come across Yuji on his knees in the middle of the highway with blood spilling out of his mouth. And just ahead you see only a glimpse of Maki and Sukuna before they disappear from your view. But even if he’s gone you still feel a chill run down your spine as you assume you’ll be facing him off soon now that you’re closer in his range…

Soon though, now you focus on Choso and his brother, and with a look alone you press Choso to help his brother.

And even if your husband understands what you mean he still hesitates. “What if I say the wrong thing? He said I’m not good at teaching, I don’t want him to get something wrong because of me,” he pauses and drifts his gaze away from Yuji to look at you with a soft pleading look. “Could you help him, remind him to take it slow?”

You glance at Yuji in distress and do have the need to help him, but if you were him all you’d want is your brother's help, even if it is a smidge of advice.

“He needs you,” you advise Choso. “Just don't over-explain it. Talk to him as if you were talking to Satori,” you say and rub his shoulders, but he doesn’t seem content with that so you come up with one more thing. “Ah! Just explain it to me and I’ll tell you if it's okay.”

Choso swallows back nervously but doesn’t hesitate this time, he draws out a deep breath and brings his hand up to press his thumb on your forehead. “Healing comes from here. All you need to do is just visualize. Watch it spread like roots,” he explains tenderly as he moves his thumb down. “Spread it everywhere and focus on mending what’s really wounded.”

Choso traces the veins down to your hand and stops when his thumb lands on your warm palm. And as he holds your hand his tenderness slowly twists to worry. “Was that okay?” Choso asks somewhat panicked.

You offer him a bright smile and nod. “That was perfect. I’m sure he’ll understand,” you assure him as you grab his hand with your free one to gently massage his palm.

Choso sighs deeply and glances at Yuji, still seeming to be spaced out and distressed on the ground. This time though, without hesitation Choso leaves your side and reaches his little brother.

“Take a breath,” you hear Choso guide Yuji as he presses his hand on his back. “Remember what you were taught. Visualize it. Allow the blood to spread throughout every corner of your body like roots. Visualize an outline of your body made with veins.”

You can’t help but smile in awe as you watch the interaction, as you watch how kind and patient Choso is with Yuji even if this is a moment of distress. You watch him being a caring old brother and once again you’re reassured of the fact that he’ll be a great father, and an even greater partner to raise your family with.

Once again as you watch him help Yuji you can’t help but count yourself lucky for having fate cross your paths.

——

Dear Satoru,

How does one relish in the peace gifted to them after so many died trying to get this far?

I can’t help but feel guilty about being happy and being able to live my life the way I dreamed of. Choso and Shoko tell me I shouldn’t feel bad for the dead anymore, but how can I look at Satori who's a couple of months away from turning 17? How can I look at my twins laughing and playing with their father, my youngest girl Amaterasu clinging onto her father hoping that somehow she could live in his skin so she wouldn’t be too far away from him. How can I watch my youngest son Ryusei get more and more curious about the world without feeling bad for those who sacrificed themselves and couldn’t live past another day of their lives?

I smile, I laugh, I’m grateful, but there’s always that twinge of guilt I feel in my heart—

“Turtle.” A little voice pulls your attention off your paper, and as you look up you see your youngest child Ryusei holding a weird turtle-shaped rock, but his 2-year-old mind has latched on to that word and is labeling everything and everyone turtle because it’s his favorite word of the week along with “no”.

You really hate the “no” phase, all five of your kids had it, so you’re more than glad that Ryusei will be your last child. You can’t handle any more terrible two phases…even if Choso is starting to hint at wanting another one.

You can’t handle it anymore though. As cute as they are and as much as you love newborn phases, all you want now is to just focus on the kids you have and be able to love your man in peace without having any more snotty kids interrupt you—with peace and love.

“No,” you correct Ryusei and take the rock from his hold to look at it because that’s what he wants you to do. “This is a rock. See? It doesn’t have eyes or a shell, silly.”

Ryusei reaches over to take back his rock and studies it as he carries it in his palm. The wheels in his mind spin as he thinks about what you said for a moment before he pouts just like his father, and nonchalantly drops the rock.

“No,” he argues and waddles away,

You hear a giggle behind you and as you slowly look back you catch Satori with her head up and grinning with amusement.

“He showed me his toy and said it was a turtle, when I corrected him he threw it at me and waddled away,” Satori shares between giggles, making you sigh and slouch.

“He’s the most hot-headed out of all of you, I don’t understand why,” you contemplate your child’s behavior.

Satori pushes her sunglasses down to shield her eyes and flashes a grin. “His grandfather. Probably.” She snickers.

“That’s still not funny ten years later,” you grumble and look away, finding the twins, Suki and Tsukuyomi, and your youngest daughter Amaterasu going towards the oceans shore without their father towing behind him, so as curious as to where he went, you drift your eyes away and find him on his feet where they all once were.

“Suki, Tsu, your brother is going over to you, hold his hand,” Choso warns the twins since they’re the oldest, and Amaterasu finds it in herself to argue as if she’s the one that was left in charge of her little brother.

“But the waves are not strong at all!”

She lacks responsibility because she’s the middle child, and she’s never in charge like Satori or the twins, so she’s turned lax.

“It doesn’t matter,” Choso counters his daughter. “He can still stumble.”

“You’re not even in charge Amaterasu,” Tsukuyomi snaps at his sister. “Why are you talking back?”

“I’m just pointing it out!” Amaterasu yells at her brother as she stomps her foot in the water around her ankles—“Gosh…” she trails off and you watch her mouth move as she seems to mumble something under her breath.

You sit back on your hands and watch all four of them with a little smile on your face.

They argue often; all five of them, over little things but they make up like nothing, they apologize quickly and go back to laughing and smiling at each other, and after some desecalations, you can’t help but smile over their bickering because it reminds of you and your brother.

When you were young—no, you argued all the time too, as they do, and made up just as fast. You got older and things happened that kept you two estranged, but you found your way back to each other. You don’t want your children to go through that same strain, but you want them to experience all the good and the bad about having each other. You want them to know that same bliss about having a sibling that you still hold onto all these years later...

You grin and feel tears prick at the corner of your eyes born from joy that you express in your letter.

—but never about my kids. I never feel guilty about having my kids and knowing that joy. They’re my blessings, they’re my everything. They’re the good piece of me, and a piece of my beloved, Choso. They’re even a piece of you, Satoru.

I see you in them all the time, in Suki, Tsukuyomi, and Ryusei’s white hair, in all their unbreakable spirits. So that’s one thing I can never ever be guilty about. Because of them, I feel like I will always carry a piece of you.

Is that cheesy?

Still, I want rid of this guilt annoying my heart like a splinter in your finger that you can’t pull out—

“Look,” Choso pulls you away from your train of thought getting engraved on paper, and first drifts your attention to the shadow he casts over you before you meet his honey-kissed brown eyes looking down at you tenderly—“a mochi I took from Ryu’s snack bag.”

You flash him a smile and take the half he offers you in your mouth. He then takes a seat on the sand next to you and keeps holding your gaze, letting you notice the red tint stamped over his nose and his cheeks.

“Cho,” you point out with your mouth full and lean over to grab his chin. “Did you put sunscreen on your face? You’re getting red.”

Choso blinks and thinks as he keeps looking at you, and when he seems to think back to a specific moment he groans and shakes his head. “Amaterasu needed help putting sunscreen on so I stopped just as I was about to apply some on my face. Sorry.”

You sigh deeply and first finish your mochi before you reach into your bag and pull out a bottle of sunscreen to press some on the tip of your fingers before you lean close to Choso, and gently massage some on his face.

“No matter what you still need to remember to put some on your face. You still burn.” You remind him sweetly.

The corner of his lips pulls to a tender smile as his eyes soften. “Why, when I can have you help me?”

You pause briefly to swoon before you leave a sweet peck on his lips and continue to protect his face from any further burning rays of the sun.

“Do you want some too, Satori?” You tease your teenage daughter in a baby voice.

“No,” she quickly rebuttals. “Thank you. I can put my own on.”

“Oh, but—”

“No,” Satori cuts you off before you can reminisce about her when she was a little girl, making you drop your hands off Choso’s face and pout.

Choso sees your flicker of sadness and strokes your chin.

No matter what though, no one will take away the sadness at watching your little girl only get older—it’s not a bad sadness you lament, you wish for her to only get older, but there’s always something about watching your kids get older that just gets you a little sad.

“She’s always the one arguing and always the one holding his hand,” Choso muses.

You follow his line of gaze and smile softly at the sight of Amaterasu pulling Ryusei up with her to jump over the small wave unfurling over the sand.

The little boy giggles and watches the next wave approaching before glancing at his sister as he anticipates the next wave he’ll jump over.

“Trying telling her that,” you quip lightheartedly.

Choso chuckles, making you look at him and only grin in admiration as his shoulders shake, and the sun makes his brown eyes twinkle as well as highlight that infinite joy he always has when watching his children just doing their own thing.

He always looks at his kids with pride, no matter what nothing takes away that love he looks at his kids with because he never wants his kids to feel the same way his own father made him feel; unloved and unwanted. It’s what makes Choso an excellent father, and it’s why you love having the honor of being Choso’s partner and having him be the father of your kids.

And it’s while you admire him and think about his big heart and the life you’re lucky to share, that you realize the answer to your question, going unaware that even after 10 years Choso has the need to steal glimpses at you to engrave every detail of your face as if it was the first time laying his eyes on you.

….I get it now. The answer to my guilt is living my life for those who died fighting. I’ll love for them and live so their sacrifice isn’t in vain.

Love, your beloved sister.

——

*2 MONTHS AGO*

“What is Gojo’s sister to you?”

“To me?”

The camera focuses on Yuji Itadori holding a half-bitten sandwich, and the person behind the camera nods in confirmation, making the pink-haired boy wipe his mouth and hum as he thinks before he sits up and responds honestly.

“Well to me she once was someone I had a crush on, I mean did you see her in magazines and on runways?!” He smirks and laughs lightly. “But now, she’s like my bodyguard. Gojo—oh our teacher, Gojo asked her to protect me from the people after me, so she turned out to be that which is cool. But you know how they say you should never meet your idols?” He sighs and takes a bite from his sandwich. “Yeah, that suits my situation…” He trails off and his eyes widen with panic, but before he can seem to correct himself the camera cuts off and displays three other students.

“Who is she to me?” Maki Zen’in repeats the question and scoffs with displeasure.

“Salmon!” Inumaki exclaims, making Panda nod as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“She tried killing us last year,” the black and white bear shares with a huff. “And she’s been the only person who’s been able to deflect Inumaki’s technique.”

“I heard she killed some members of her family a few years back,” Maki cuts in and makes the camera shift to focus on her. “She’s also a stain on the Gojo clan. The one fallen from grace, or so they say. I would say I admire her but she tried to kill us so she’s a killer.”

The clip cuts off and now they’re back inside facing Yuji Itadori with his sandwich and a panicked reaction.

“…not that I don’t think she’s not strong!” Yuji finally gets to explain himself before someone gets the wrong idea. “She’s strong and cool! And very beautiful, in Iike, an ethereal kind of way, like if you tell me to think of royalty, that’s who I picture her to be. But I guess it suits her considering who they say she is in the sorcerer community.” He says and flashes the camera a smile, leading to a smooth transition to some courtyard of some shopping center with a short-haired girl in the center.

“How many of these questions are you going to ask me?” Nobara Kugisaki asks as she puts on some sunglasses to block away the sun from shining in her eyes. “Anyway,” she speaks softly and with no ounce of deceit. “She’s someone I can say I admire regardless of all I hear about her because she’s proof that you can be both strong and a woman. She’s proof that we as women in the sorcerer society don’t have to fit into a stupid stereotype. Plus she dresses so cool even when she’s out on missions with Itadori, I want to dress like her.”

There wasn’t even a second of stepping into the dark side of your character, despite all that’s said about you, Nobara spoke from her heart and never thought of holding back to fit in with what others had to say about you.

The same could be said about Kento Nanami, albeit he might have some bias for you.

“First off,” Nanami directs at the camera even if watches the road ahead of him. “She has a name, she’s not called Gojo’s sister,” he scolds the interviewer and instantly counters by saying your full name to the camera before dipping into the question. “And she’s my one and only best friend, there’s no one I trust more than her…” he trails off to push his glasses up his nose and watch the road as he seems lost in thought.

The video may display a few seconds of passing time, but in truth, Nanami took a lot longer than that to continue, and even then he sounds quite pensive when he speaks about you.

“Besides being strong, and a bit egotistical like her brother, she’s extremely loyal, there’s no one you’d want more fighting beside you in a tough situation than her. She’s really a force to be reckoned with,” he says and finally glances at the camera with his eyebrows narrowed.

“Should you really be recording while I’m driving—”

The video is cut off and lastly, there’s one more clip left of a tall man with white hair and dark shades on his face.

“Well as everyone knows she’s my sister!” Satoru says in an almost teasing manner. “My little sister. She’s the only sibling I have, and you know being raised in an important clan like mine brings a lot of responsibility, but she made it all tolerable…” he smiles softly ahead and then he can’t help but smirk.

“I’m strong, the strongest there is, but,” he snickers. “I wouldn't go messing with her. There’s a reason she's a special grade, but she’ll be a pain in your ass, trust me. I wouldn’t underestimate her,” he trails on softly, and if anyone who really knew him heard him, they’d even say that he sounds full of admiration talking about his little sister. They’d also be able to see the softness painted on his face, but he has a good way to mask that to look smug in front of the camera.

“Oh!” He exclaims and claps his hands before he stops and turns, making the camera turn too to face him directly. Albeit he then surprises the camera as he leans in close as if the speakers or the camera wouldn’t capture what he has to say. “Despite what she wants you to believe she’s not scary. Don’t believe that crap,” he laughs and turns the camera off forcing the interview about you to end.

——

*NOW*

“Well,” there’s no avoiding it now or a continuous chance to be a backseat watcher. “Looks like it’s almost my turn…” you trail off and gulp before turning away from the disaster Sukuna and Maki are leaving in their fight.

You’d like to say you’re heading to this fight completely fearless, but your trembling hands and your pounding heart say otherwise.

“No one would blame you if you chose not to fight,” Yuji suddenly interjects, sounding like his big brother. “You have a big reason to stay behind.”

You blink in disbelief and slowly lift your head to watch him watching his hands turned to red claws. He doesn’t look up to meet your gaze when he feels it boring in him, instead, he watches his fists as if trying to find a fault in them.

“I’d blame myself,” you tell him as you approach him. “I’m strong and I’m powerful, but besides that, I’m fighting for something much bigger than myself.” You come to a stop and cast a shadow over his body hunched on the ground, and raise your hand to clutch onto the heart locket Choso gave you, the one that holds a picture of Nanako and Mimiko.

“Sukuna took something from me too,” you whisper and feel your fury boiling inside, but you also feel grief you have yet to really let your heart feel. “He took the girls who taught me how to love full heartedly, he took the girls who made me a mother. What mother would I be if I didn't try and get revenge for what he did? They were my daughters and he took them away.”

You let out a shaky breath, but you drop the tears that came with it. Instead, you actually proceed to meet Yuji’s brown eyes as he finally lifts his head.

“Oh,” he whispers shamefully. “That’s right. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head and crouch down to be at his level. “Keep your head up, kid. He hasn’t broken your spirit yet. You’ll break his. He may be a monster, but there’s still something in there you can crush. I know you’ll find it. You’re strong and brave, and you have a good heart.”

Yuji raises his head and swallows thickly, he parts his lips and seems to search for something within you. When he can’t seem to find what he’s looking for he sighs and mutters. “How did you do it? Find the strength to keep fighting after losing so much?”

“My daughter,” you bring up with hesitation but find it in yourself to try and find something he can relate to. “Considering you don’t have kids, then I’ll say this. I have faith in myself. It gets shaken, but it’s reliable. You have that too, that unbreakable faith. I see it.”

Yuji’s eyes soften and his chest rises as he draws in a deep breath. When his chest falls a half smile tugs on the corner of his lips. “Thank you,” he says hushedly.

You flash him a smile and gently pat his shoulder before you stand to your given height to face Choso who refuses to look at you, but still hangs onto every word you just told his brother.

“Cho,” you whisper and close the gap left between you to grab his arm crossed over his chest to turn him to face you. “Don’t be mad. We talked about this.”

Choso keeps his gaze pierced on the ground, so you lift your hands to grab his face and tilt his head up so you can meet those eyes you love so much.

“You can go pull me out of the fight if I get hurt,” you try to assure him, but his dark eyebrows pinch together and his eyes pierce into you before he retorts.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

You sigh and he finally unfolds his arms to clutch onto yours. “I can’t be okay with you going to risk your life,” he spills out what he had been keeping inside for so long. “I was okay with you facing my father because he was weaker than you, but Sukuna? He can kill you before I even have a chance to react. How do you expect me to be okay with that?”

You shake your head and counter softly. “I don’t expect you to be okay with it, I’m not okay with you being here either, but what choice do we have? And you heard me just now, my reasons to be here and fight him. You were with me the day I found them, and you were with me every day after that as I’ve mourned them. You know the thirst for revenge too, and you know it’s impossible to sit idly by until you know you’ve gotten justice for the ones you lost.”

Choso's lips curl to a deep displeased frown, and his eyes drop before he groans out of frustration because he knows you’re right. He’s known it, but he doesn’t want to see you go.

“I’ll be okay,” you reassure him as you tilt your head so you can keep holding his gaze, so you can keep holding onto that warmth and keep it within you when you go out there and fight. “I’ll make it back. The twins will be okay. I’ll fight like hell to stay alive, I swear.”

Choso blinks repeatedly to avoid crying, but he can hardly stay strong so he lets his forehead fall on yours, while his grip trembles.

“Please don’t scare me like you did when we fought Noritoshi. Stay alive, I need you.”

Those words are so full of fear for your life, yet so genuine and full of nothing but love. It makes it hard to leave, but you can’t just stay back, you have to fight at least once. You don’t want to die so you’ll fight hard to avoid that fate for him, and for Satori waiting for you to reunite. But if life takes you down that path you can’t stop it, you’ll only hope you were able to give everyone a chance to defeat that great evil.

“I’ll make it back,” you assure Choso against his lips. “To you, my love. I love you.” You whisper with honey dripping off every word and lean in to press a gentle and lingering kiss on his soft and wet lips refusing to let you go. He keeps your lips captured until you gently push back, but even then he grabs your hand with his unbeatable strength and pulls you back towards him.

“Choso,” you warn him softly.

“Just,” he interjects softly but full of desperation. “Let me…” he trails off and lowers his gaze before he presses his palm against your belly.

He doesn’t say anything, but Yuji notices the silence and looks over at his brother finding comfort in the fact that his kids he made with you are safely growing inside you. Yuji takes note of his brother's hand clinging onto your arm, hoping that will be enough to keep you with him forever. He sees his brother's faint smile that mirrors yours because even if the babies are still too small to move, their mere presence is enough to make you both content.

Yuji takes note of the both of you desperately trying to find any excuse to stick close to each other, and can’t help but think that you’re both brave for coming out to fight even if you’re waiting for something so precious that deserves both parents to live without a burden of fighting this nasty monster. Lastly, Yuji watches you and that smile that decorated your face fade before you force yourself to pull away.

“Strong heart,” you try to give Choso courage before you pull something out of your pocket. You don’t show him what you have, instead, you grab his hand and place the object on his palm before pushing his hand towards his heart.

Choso refuses to identify the object just yet to be able to hold your gaze for as long as he can. Even when you look out at the city past the rooftop you’re on and see Sukuna knock Maki out with a black flash, he refuses to lose sight of your beautiful face, hoping that some way, somehow, that would keep you with him where he could protect you.

“Strong heart,” you repeat tenderly as you tear your gaze away from the tragic scene and meet the worried but sweet gaze of the man you love. “Keep it safe until I come back.”

You leave Choso one last kiss before you walk back. When you’re on the edge of the rooftop, when you feel nothing but the air of the world below on the heel of your feet, you force yourself to tear your gaze away and finally give your back to Choso and Yuji before you can stay, or Choso could force you to stay by his side.

And it’s only once your figure nor your face are painted before his very eyes that Choso pulls back his fist and opens his hand, seeing the little red and orange glass swan he had given you so long ago.

You had left a piece of your love behind that he could hold onto while you fought bravely, and so knew that you meant it when you said you'd go back to him because it’s true, you do want to go back to him. You won’t die against Sukuna, that’s not your heart's desire. You’ll fight fiercely because he took something from you.

He took Nanako and Mimiko. He took the girls who taught you how to love full-heartedly. He took the girls who made you a mother. He took your daughters. He took your daughters who loved you unconditionally. He took them away from you and didn’t stop there. He continued to break your heart by taking your brother too.

He was your best friend. Your beloved brother and he killed him too!

You’d like to fight Sukuna because he took Satori’s uncle, but you’re more selfish than that because Satoru was your brother first. You’ve loved him all your life and she’s only known him for a year of hers, so no, you aren't fighting for justice for her uncle's death, you’re fighting for justice for your brother's death.

Your brother, your daughters. Sukuna took them away. He’s a monster and you’ll kill him, or you’ll make him feel a fraction of what he made you feel. You’ll burn him so he can feel that agony he put you through even if it means your death.

Luckily he doesn’t notice you towering over him, he’s too lost in his glory after scoring a black flash against a teenage girl to notice you. Besides your cursed energy isn’t as strong and flashy as Satoru’s or Okkotsu’s, and for once you’re grateful for it because you can jump off the roof towering over Sukuna without getting noticed. At least for a few seconds that is.

When you get close, when your shadow casts on the ground around him you see him turn his neck and lift his head to catch what’s approaching him, but you force the elements to your side and use the air as your dance floor to twirl around Sukuna’s head before he has the chance to see you with either of his four eyes. Once you're behind him again you let gravity pull you down, and wrap your legs around his neck, and slap your hands on his eyes.

“I’ll take you to hell,” you sneer and light your hands on fire to burn his eyes.

Sukuna quickly throws his hand back and grabs you by the back of your head, but you stab your burning fingers in his deformed eyes and burn your fire fiercely and so bright that your fury is as clear as the burning sun in the sky, causing the giant beast to sneer before he digs his claws in the back of your neck and finally rips you off his back and hurls you off him.

You manage to use the air to catch yourself before you can hit the ground, and swiftly flip in the air to land with both feet on the ground.

“You,” Sukuna snarls.

You stand up smoothly and face him with a menacing glare. “Me,” you mock him.

Smoke rises off his eyes burnt shut, making his optical advantage nothing more than another wound he can’t heal. Which inflates your ego, you do admit.

Seeing the great Sukuna wounded because of you makes you stupidly proud.

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” he doesn’t show any sign of defeat, and why would he? He just rolls his shoulders back and raises his nose further in the sky, casting his menacing glare on your delicate soul.

“I thought you’d be mewling over…” he trails off and taps his chin. “Who was it now?”

He’s just trying to tick you off. You can’t let him get to your head.

“I’ll burn you Sukuna Ryōmen,” you try to project your anger cool, you need to stay level-headed.

“Ah,” he snaps his fingers and lays his eyes on you. “Nanako, and Mimiko.”

You dig the heel of your feet into the ground and swallow back thickly at the sound of their precious names coming out of his dirty and cursed mouth.

“Oh, don’t forget Satoru Gojo too,” he brings up unbothered but with a taunting look pierced on you. “Dead brother, dead husband, and dead daughters.” He snickers under his breath and flashes off his wicked smirk.

And how can you stay so level-headed when he plays so carelessly when he tosses out the names of the people you love as if they meant nothing?

They meant the world. They were the world to you and he killed them. He took them away from you. You can’t behave so rationally, you can’t act with both mind and heart when it’s your heart that mourns and weeps.

You can’t.

You have to act with your blinding anger and with your agonizing grief. You have to kill him.

“I’ll kill you bastard!” You cry out fiercely.

Sukuna throws his arms out and begins to laugh manically. “Show me what you got oh Fallen One!” He bellows.

You blast off the ground and fly toward him with both fists basking with fire, and fury burning in your red-orange eyes.

However, instead of barreling your ignited fists in him, you use your cursed energy to manipulate the ground beneath his feet and rip off a piece of the ground to blast him to the sky.

You quickly follow him by meeting him in the sky and bring your hands together to display a dangerous hand sign.

“I am death. I am the One Fallen from Grace, and today Sukuna…you will know pain,” you grimace and pierce your glare into the depths of his soul to chant. “Domain expansion; StormsEnd!”

.

.

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.

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Tagged- @deniseabad1928 @secondary-character-25 @starlightanyaaa @notsaelty @d4rno @moonnime @kodzukein @yozora7154 @heijihattorisgf @elegantweirdorchest @natakina

A/N- Flashforward or an illusion? Whatever it is, we need more of Choso and his babies.

[doll3t3xo]

𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 ཐི♡ཋྀ

ᡣ𐭩 By interacting with my posts, you have agreed to follow my rules, the dni criteria, and the writing rules below

ᡣ𐭩 Any of these rules may change overtime for my comfort

ᡣ𐭩 What fandoms I write for: Jujutsu Kaisen, One Piece, and Demon Slayers

ᡣ𐭩 What characters I romantically write for: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Sukuna + Mihawk, Shanks, Aokiji, Doflamingo, Crocodile, Trafalgar Law, Ace, Lucci, Kaku + Hantengu’s clones (Zohakuten is excluded), & Kyojuro Rengoku

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Dark content (ex: yandere, killing, stalking, perverted behavior, etc), not spoiler free, nsfw, sfw, hurt + comfort, potential tws comfort, fluff, smut, angst, longfic, oneshot, headcannons, AUs, character(s) x gn! or f!reader only, poly relationship (only apply for satosugu and hantengu clones), preferably sub! reader, hybrid

ᡣ𐭩 Kinks I would write:

Bdsm, throat fucking, gagging, bulging, size kink, face sitting/fucking, hair pulling, praise kink, degradation, humiliation, choking, slapping, breastfeeding/lactation, orgasm denial, voyeurism, daddy kink, thigh riding, sex toys, double penetration, squirting, slut-shaming, edging, overstimulation, age gap, cumming inside, finger fucking, (mutual) masturbation, filming, lingerie, dumbification, corruption, dacryphilia, somnophilia

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Extremely specific “reader”, character x oc, character x character, male! reader, rape, incest, age up, substances (ex: cocaine), weed, necrophilia, scat, piss, vodmit, watersports, omegaverse (I am not used to that yet, hybrid! character or reader is allowed), dom! reader (once again, not used to that, I’ll try) & anything that goes against my dni criteria

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ᡣ𐭩 𝑨𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝑴𝒆 ᡣ𐭩 𝑾𝒆𝒍𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 ᡣ𐭩 𝑴.𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ᡣ𐭩 𝑨𝒔𝒌 𝑴𝒆 ᡣ𐭩 𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒔

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Credits to hitobaby for the dividers

[liknws]

[ 00:43 ]

PAIRING: lee minho x reader/oc TAGS: angst, no comfort RATING: 18+, mature | WARNINGS: dark themes, depression, additional trigger warnings located under the cut will contain spoilers for the fic!

WORD COUNT: 1,182 | SUMMARY: Take away the well meant words, the songs that don't help and the smiles that aren't real… call it despair if you want, but something fake hurts more than anything.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: please be aware that this fic will contain topics that some may find extremely upsetting or triggering, such as: main character death, suicide, binge drinking, extreme depression, self harm. if i missed any, please let me know.

read on ao3

I have always loved the flowers and the birds, loved the sunlight and the clouds that drift by. I have always loved the way the leaves move in a breeze and that soft whispering sound they make, like nature loves to chatter too. Yet the tiredness that began a while ago remains like a veil over my skin, gray and cold. And as I watch the petals and the twigs that sway outside the window, there is only a creeping sorrow where there should be joy.

Words are worn, paper creased. Folded and unfolded time and time again. The words are all but illegible now but he doesn’t need the letters on the page. He memorized the letter a long time ago. He carries it with him everywhere, tucked inside the fold of his wallet, right behind your photo.

It sits like November rain on my skin, enough to chill what was once warm inside. At any other time I would’ve called a friend, asked for the warmth I needed to ward it off, just a little is enough. No longer. Now I just let it come, drop by drop and I feel like it is an ocean falling upon me instead of rain - that the grief of years I carefully suspended has all condensed right above my head into a cloud large enough to block the sun. They say it can't rain forever, that there will come a time when it must cease, that the last drop will have fallen. Thing is, I just don't care.

Funny, he thinks. The same cold November rain drizzles over his shoulders and hunched back. The shivering passed some time ago, about half a bottle ago. Amber liquid swishes as the glass rim meets chapped lips. Glass is all that his lips kiss now, anything else feels too warm and too real. He wonders when you stopped fighting against the cold, when your shivers became the normal and that the calm of a summer day became unbearable.

What I need will never come and no matter how much I look for it, I won’t find it. I wasn't born for great things, nor to find my place in the sun. I could try every day, work for what I want and need, but there are no paths to success, not from here. People talk as if I dream my way out, simply discover a version of me that only sees the opportunities and ignores the noise, the distractions and the people who only say "no" because they don't believe in themselves, so how can they believe in me? So take away the well meant words, the songs that don't help and the smiles that aren't real... call it despair if you want, but something fake hurts more than anything.

The words echo in him, resonate as if striking the last chord alive in his chest. How did he miss this? How did he miss the way your smile stopped sparkling in your eyes and the way your laugh no longer made your head fall back as if one body couldn’t contain it all. How had he missed the way your shine began to dull?

I can't recall the last time I reached out for that child-self I once was, the kid who loved sunshine and rain all the same. I started to see darkness around the lights instead of the other way around, and soon there were no more colors in my world. For so long I was okay with living in a world without color, without warmth, as long as I was with you. It wasn't a color but you brought something. Sometimes I could remember what orange felt like when your hair was that color. I remember it became my favorite color while you had it. I could remember what pink felt like after the first time I kissed you. I thought your cheeks would stay that way forever.

He was such a coward that day. He was a coward every day, he thinks. All he wanted to do was kiss you, looking at your lips everytime you spoke or laughed. Everytime he tried or convinced himself to try, he chickened out the last second. You had noticed at some point, you told him months into dating. Apparently you'd caught on and wanted to see how long it would take for him to finally kiss you and when the night was ending and he was standing very awkwardly on your doorstep you took pity on Lee Minho and kissed him first. However the next day he kissed you in the middle of the courtyard with everyone watching and it was your turn to be pink cheeked and shy.

Please, when you think of me, remember the good things. The great things. Know that you brought just a little color into my gray world. Know that your love spread warmth even when I didn't ask for it and that I will forever love you. My last day was exactly how I wanted it to go and I hope that one day you'll forgive me for using you like that.

The memory is sharp, painful. He didn't know anything you had planned. If he had he would have done everything he could think of to change your mind. To keep you next to him, to keep your hand in his. You two had done all your favorite things together, just the two of you. He should have seen it then, looking back. He should have realized that was your goodbye to him, that was your way of leaving him all your good parts, all your love. You had no idea that leaving him would take all his color too.

But mostly, I hope that you will move on. That you'll do all the things we said we would do, maybe by yourself. But I hope you do them with someone else, someone that deserves all your color and all your warmth. I hope you love again, I hope you smile again. I'm sorry that I wasn't strong enough to stay, I'm sorry that our love wasn't enough to keep me here. I hope you forgive me for that too. I will love you forever, Minnie.

Before long the paper is soaked through from the light rain. Hand out stretched in front of him, page fluttering in the wind that has picked up as the storm rolls in. He lets the letter go, watching as the rain soaked paper flutters off into the swallowing darkness. He won't need it where he's going.

There’s only the sound of wind whistling past his ears. Rain falls on his face but he barely feels it. He hasn’t felt anything but the pain of missing you, the loss of your smile and your laugh. He wonders if this was the last thing you felt. The pleasant emptiness of nothing, of falling freely without fear of the landing. Eyes close as the darkness swallows him too.

He hopes he gets to ask you but first he’s going to kiss you.

[s-creations]

26 Ways to Feel Mortal - W: Withdraw

26 Chapters based around experiences that newly arrived Geno experiences while trying to find the Star Pieces.

Fandom: Super Mario & Releated Fandoms, Super Mario RPG Rating: Teen and UP Audiences Relationship: Mario/Geno (Nintendo), Mario/Princess Peach (Nintendo) Additional Tags: Rating for Teen needed for later chapters, but shouldn't be to worrisome, I'll have warnings if I'm worried, Poly relations!, Main characters will always be named, Minor characters will arrive as needed, the chapters are not in a specific order, just meets the needs of the given word, please be aware of spoilers.

Withdraw: (verb) Remove or take away (something) from a particular place or position.

“Geno?”

Said puppet didn’t look up. Quietly berating himself for not hiding himself away better. But also knew Mario would have found him eventually. 

Geno closed himself off further as Mario sat next to him.

“You, um, you missed dinner,” Mario started off softly, “I saved you a bit though. It’s a Toad Town specialty. Really something you can’t miss.”

That hit harder than what Mario meant, no doubt. Geno clenched his jaw to keep himself quiet. Even as the sorrow crept up his throat. 

“Um, Peach was hoping to show you around? The locals are curious about the hero from the stars. Or, well, the hero who is a Star. Suppose that’s more accurate, right?”

Geno was thankful that his cape could hide the upper portion of his body. So Mario couldn’t see how hard Geno was clasping his hands together. 

“Did I do something wrong?”

That caused Geno to finally snap his attention to Mario. The human looking away, dejected eyes staring at the ground. 

“You’ve been really quiet recently and you don’t interact with any of us anymore. At least, not like you used to. You stay near the back. You’re so focused on battling. You’re barely eating anymore. Did something happen? Did…Did I make a mistake?” 

When Mario looked up his face fell from confusion to panic. 

Geno suddenly realized he was crying now. 

Said puppet turned as quickly as he could to rub his eyes furiously.

“Geno-”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re clearly not!” 

“Just drop it.”

“No.”

“Mario…”

“Talk to me, please.”

“I can’t…”

“You know I’m here for you.”

“I can’t…”

“Geno-”

“I have to leave!”

Geno didn’t mean to shout. Or stand. Now towering over a wide eyed Mario.

“Don’t you get that? Once we get the final Star Piece, I have to leave. I have to go back to help build Star Road and I can’t come back. I have to leave all of this behind! I have…I have to leave you.”

Geno’s resolve crumbled away. Unabashedly crying as he allowed his sorrow to pull him down. Mario able to catch Geno quickly and hold him close.

“I know, I know it will hurt because it already does,” Geno sobbed, “I know it’ll be so much worse. I figured, if I pulled away, it wouldn’t hurt. If I just broke away, it would be easier for everyone. But it still hurts…”

“You need to trust me when I say that’s not going to work,” Mario whispered softly, “You’ve made everyone worry and hurt yourself more than you meant to.”

Geno hiccuped as he buried himself into the crook of Mario’s neck. “I don’t want to leave.”

“...Do you really have to?”

“I need to make sure the road’s built again. I need to know wishes can be granted again. They’ll need my help.”

“Then…I’ll wish for you to come back.”

Geno pulled away to stare in disbelief at Mario’s words, “What?”

“I’ll wish for you to come back ,” Mario stated simply again, “You’d be able to grant that, right?”

“...O-Of course.”

“Then I’ll wish. I’ll wish every night for you to come back here. Even if it takes weeks, months, years, I’ll wish and wait. And until the end, when you have to go back, we need to celebrate however many days you have left here. Yeah? No more hiding away anymore.”

Geno let out a small whine and nodded.

“Okay… Do you want to go back?”

“...Can we stay here for a little longer?”

Mario smiled softly, “Sure, I’ll give you as much time as I can give.”

[devondespresso]

WIP WhhhMonday Nightish

Once upon a time Devon was tagged in a wip wednesday by @eriquin and meant to do it but missed both wednesday and the weekend before remembering again. totally unrelated, Devon is working on getting their official adhd diagnosis.

i also noticed that the past snippets shared in wip-whatever posts have been purposefully the least interesting parts because i was worried about spoilers, which is dumb because that's created the unintended consequence of my tag is full of everything i don't like as much and a very different impression of what my fic is (as seen by most of these snippets being my rewritten scenes despite the actual fic being mostly new in-between scenes)

TLDR: WIP Whatever-day-it-is: But Actually For Fun This Time

The Rules

Post the file names of up to 5 of your WIPs for people to send you asks

Post a snippet of one of those WIPs

When people send you an ask with the name of one of your WIPs, write 3 lines of that WIP.

(Optional) Post the lines you wrote.

You can send multiple requests especially since this is going on through the weekend!

The WIPs

we're doing bulleted chapter titles to share from since that was my favorite and genuinely most productive format I've used. Feel free to ask for as many as you want, I plan on working on this basically all week

Karen Wheeler POV Bonus Chapter (Prologue kinda? side story in the same universe?? Bonus chapter set after season 1 and way before ch 1)

Steve, are you okay? Are you okay, Steve? (ch 9)

What's this? The consequences of my actions? (Is that a motherfucking Lovejoy reference?) (ch 10)

Kidnapping? no. surprise adoption. (lol get taken care of BITCH) (ch 11)

NEXT CHAPTER BC IDK HOW TO TRANSITION (ch 12) (a very tentative title for the next chapter to be written)

The Snippet

here is my favorite and most recent scene I've written, which takes place before they junkyard where Steve and Dustin are at the grocery store to get that ungodly amount of raw meat they have to toss around (also i've split chapters up a bit in the name of structure so the third chapter is now called "Mommy Issues Central". Lemme know any goofy vine reference ideas you guys have or if it should stay like that) (fear not, Get Yo Fucking Dog Bitch lives on still as chapter 4)

___

They turned down the next aisle, lining the edges of the cart with some other pasta-related shit that he could still probably use. They heard someone coming over from the next aisle and before he could turn the cart around Mrs Wheeler pulled up.

"Oh, Steve ...and Dustin. What're you boys up to?"

He took a short breath to work their story into something without Mike, but Dustin beat him to it.

"He's teaching me stuff." 

He was imitating the tone Steve used but still way too vague. Mrs Wheeler held up a smile, her brows slightly lifted.

"Y'know, like cooking-" Steve said, throwing in a little gesture to the cart.

"And cars, changing oil and things. Y'know just.. dad stuff."

Dustin's part convinced her, Mrs Wheeler's expression softening into a real smile.

"Well I won't keep you long," 

She nodded off to the side to talk to Steve one-on-one.

Great.

“Are you and Nancy okay?”

“Wh- we’re- Why? Did she say something?”

“No, no, she’s just been… closed off, lately. And I drove her to school the other day, she didn’t say why.”

“Sh- yeah, that- that’s on me. Sorry.”

“Did you break up?”

“No no, definitely not. We’re kinda… we’re working on it. I’m going to try and make it better, after y’know..” he gestured to Dustin behind him.

“Right.” she smiled again, “Let Nancy know she can talk to me about any of this? Please? I tell her but- I don't know, maybe it’d be different coming from you.”

He held up a smile for her.

“Yeah, sure. Mind if we..” he jutted a thumb towards the end of the aisle.

“Yes, go ahead.”

He gave her a short wave and turned back to Dustin, who studied random shit in the aisle like Steve would believe his sudden fascination with olive oil outweighed childish curiosity.

“Steve-”

He turned back around, seeing Mrs Wheeler coming back up to him and whispering again.

“I know I’m not your mother, but you can talk to me, too. Both of you, okay?”

He kept the smile in place and nodded again, and she finally went back to her cart.

Dustin “Definitely-Not-Eavesdropping” Henderson followed him out of the aisle, thankfully waiting until they were out of earshot to ask.

“What's going on with you and Nancy?”

“Thought we had ‘much bigger problems than my love life’?”

He pulled up to the deli, stopping to pretend to look at the options.

“We’re not dropping everything for it but we can still talk.” he groaned.

“I’ll tell you later, kay? Not exactly the best place to talk.''

___

Tags

@stobinesque @spoookysix @marvel-ous-m @alexcharmsyou @museumgiftshoperaser @blushweddinggowns @sharpbutsoft @fag4dykestobin @findafight (no pressure ofc and feel free to switch it to actually wednesday fhuhjdklashj) (also just let me know if you don't wanna be tagged in these)

[destinygoldenstar]

Total Drama Danganronpa Island Chapter 4 Deadly Life Spoilers:

I genuinely think that this moment, and the exact line “I’ll make you walk the dock of hell”, will remain as one of the most SAVAGE and SATISFYING things I have written.

Regardless of how you feel about Courtney, this is a W I feel she deserves as her revenge on Chris.

Chris is the definition of a ‘love to hate’ character, and an irredeemable monster who hurts so many people here just for the sake of satisfying himself and getting entertained. He has proven over and over again that he has no intent to change at all, no matter what gets thrown at him to destroy his image, which is now crippled by the killing game and the Mastermind’s council being fed up with him. So what does he do when one of the kids commits suicide? The very kid that was making his endless games possible? Use it as an opportunity to let out his frustrations. As well as, you know, poke fun at the kys victim. (This is a bad guy doing that. Please never do this.)

The suicide victim so happens to be Courtney’s best and closest friend. So all of this behavior puts her over the edge and she finally snaps.

After all the torment that Chris had indulged her in, robbed them of a peaceful life, robbed Courtney herself and screwed over a moral high ground for the sake of himself and not what she felt was justified… she cannot take it anymore.

So when she sees the opportunity in the rules to kill Chris, she takes it. And she ends the unfairness and unjust once and for all.

Notably, shes not doing this to save Bridgette. She doesn’t really care. She’s doing this to kill Chris. (She even says such in the chapter)

I rewatched the show, specifically with Courtney’s scenes, and yeah, that sounds about right for her to do if she had that chance. At least that’s how I view her character… who I felt I neglected a bit since Chapter 1, so now she’s a spotlight here and she gets a W all to herself. Courtney stans can get some food.

Burn in hell Chris McLean. Walk the dock you put so many teenagers on, teenagers that were corrupted by you.

You will not be missed.

And if you’re asking if I was ever planning on killing Bridgette in this execution and there was some sort of switch: No.

You better believe I’m taking every single risk I can think of. I just killed the host character, and we’re only on Chapter 4. You better believe the rules have become very twisted at this point. I’m even kind of scared of myself and my choices, especially going forward, despite me planning this ahead. (I’m asking myself “WTF author? WHAT are you doing?!”)

But at least now I have an original line to say to demons when they haunt me in my sleep. “Walk the dock of hell b***h. I know I’m too stubborn to see a therapist on my insomnia, but I don’t care.”

Also, so you know, I have a tag for this fic. #total drama danganronpa island

You can tag posts talking about this fic with this so I can find them and see them easier, if you want to discuss it in any form. I won’t respond to everything, it depends on the subject, but you know, it’s there.