#see Dream didn’t have to do that to be his only friend… he’s not all bad. j mean trusting Tommy with his items if pretty noteworthy too

[starryjake]

sharing | hyung line

who shares their girl with who in enha hyung line

pairing: enha hyung line x fem!reader

includes: threesomes, sucking dick, fingering, pussy eating, cum swallowing, hand job, nipple play (lmk if i missed anything).

heeseung .ೃ࿐

heeseung would share you with jake. he knows just from the way jake looks at you that he would make you feel good, better than any of the other guys would. jake was very loving and attentive, which is all that heeseung would want for his baby.

“he making you feel good, baby?” heeseung whispered in your ear, sending chills throughout your overheated body.

you had your head laying in his lap and he played with your hair while jake was situated between your thighs, dazed out while he was lapping at your pussy.

“yeah,” you mewled, jutting your hips into jake’s mouth, “but i want you to feel good too.”

heeseung’s heart melted slightly at the fact you still cared about him and his pleasure, even while getting your pussy eaten by his best friend.

that was how the position changed and suddenly you were on your hands and knees sucking heeseung’s heavy cock while jake ate you from behind.

he had your legs spread and stuffed his face into your pussy, moaning against your folds. you were gagging on heeseung’s cock every time it hit you in the back of the throat.

jake gets so pussy drunk so easily he’d probably start crushing on you just because of how sweet your pussy tasted around his tongue. would literally dream about the day heeseung let him eat out his girlfriend for MONTHS and beg to let him do it again.

jay *ೃ༄

i could see jay not wanting ANY of them to go anywhere NEAR his girl, but if he absolutely had to he would probably choose heeseung. heeseung was the oldest so jay trusted that he would know how to act around his girl.

and heeseung surprisingly did know his way around making you feel good. he watched with focused eyes on your reactions as he stuffed you full of his fingers, adding more and more and seeing how you liked it.

“fuck,” he muttered, watching you throw your head back in pleasure after he added a fourth finger into your tight, stuffed pussy. “she’s so fuckin’ hot.”

you were leaking arousal around his fingers, dripping down the side of his hand. you were loving this, clearly.

“good girl,” jay cooed, moving some hair out of your face. “open up, baby. let’s get both your holes full.”

he stuffed his cock into your mouth, ruthlessly fucking your throat while heeseung fingered you with an entire four fingers. you came multiple times over his fingers, each orgasm more intense than the last, and watched in awe as he brought his glistening fingers up to his mouth to taste you.

it didn’t take long for jay to shoot his warm, salty seed down your throat, filling up your tummy as well.

jake ੈ✩‧₊˚

jake would have trouble sharing you with anyone but if he had to choose, it would of course be sunghoon. sunghoon is practically jake’s brother so he felt comfortable letting sunghoon have fun with his girl, but he will absolutely NOT let anyone else fuck you. that’s for jake and jake only.

he watched with a nervous expression as sunghoon’s middle finger slid inside your shiny hole. you moaned, clenching around his finger while jake held your hand. his grip grew tighter and tighter as sunghoon massaged his finger inside of you.

“does it feel good?” he asked, kissing up your neck.

sunghoon added a second finger alongside his middle.

“f-fuck,” you whispered, feeling your hole stretch around sunghoon’s long fingers. “yeah.”

you tilted jake’s head up and attached your lips together. jake moaned into the kiss and slid his tongue into your mouth while you spread your legs even wider for sunghoon to slide in yet another finger inside you.

“so nice and tight,” sunghoon grunted, feeling you clench around his hand. “bet it feels insane fucking her.”

“don’t even think about it,” jake scolded, momentarily pulling away from your lips.

you moaned, a string of saliva connecting yours and jake’s lips.

jake lifted the fabric of your shirt up to your shoulders and started rubbing your sensitive nipples, only adding to the pleasure you were getting from sunghoon.

a few minutes later, with your lips attached to jake’s again and his fingers on your tits, you came all over sunghoon’s fingers.

sunghoon ༊*·˚

honestly i could see him allowing any of the older ones to mess around with you. he trusted all of them and knew they’d make you feel good, but he didn’t want to share you with that many people, so he chose jay.

however, choosing jay meant a lot of bickering back and forth as they both tried to pleasure you.

“she doesn’t like it like that,” sunghoon commented, watching jay circle his tongue over your clit.

“i think i know how to give a girl head,” jay retorted, irritated.

“not my girl,” sunghoon mumbled.

jay rolled his eyes as he stuffed his tongue into your cunt. sunghoon’s jaw clenched as he just sat there and watched, wishing he was the one between your legs instead.

then suddenly, he felt your hand crawl onto his lap and grip his throbbing bulge over his pants. it was like you knew he was feeling left out.

he ended up kneeling beside your head as you jerked off his pretty, long cock while jay ate you out. as weird as he felt about it, sunghoon admittedly found it pretty hot to watch you get eaten out by his best friend, and ended up cumming way too soon all over your pretty little face.

you came shortly after in jay’s mouth, who then smirked cockily at sunghoon with his glistening in your arousal.

sunghoon figured he’d let jake have you next time instead.

-

😮‍💨😮‍💨i tried to be logical about this. lmk if u agree and what pairing you want to tag team you LOL

personally i need a fivesome with all of them <3

thanks for reading!

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 2

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1

There’s a note in Eddie’s locker. It flutters down to the dirty linoleum when he opens it to try and find his missing Biology textbook. He stares down at it, perplexed, until Jeff bends down to pick it up.

“Hey!” Eddie cries, snatching it out of his hand. “That’s mine!”

“Whatever, dude,” Jeff replies, leaning back into the closed locker beside Eddie’s and crossing his arms.

Eddie pays him no mind, too busy unfolding the note and bending over it to read.

He reads it again. And again. And again, each pass over the sign-off making his cheeks feel hotter.

It’s not like Eddie’s a stranger to getting notes in his locker, but they’re usually death threats. Or requests for drugs. Not…not this.

“What’s it say?” Jeff asks, breaking him from his shocked reverie.

“Nothing!” Eddie shrieks loudly enough that multiple heads turn to scowl at them. Eddie hastily stuffs the note into his pocket, and smiles at Jeff. “Let’s go get lunch, huh?”

Jeff squints at him suspiciously.

Eddie, in a desperate bid to distract him, starts rambling about this week’s campaign. It seems to work. By the time they’re settled in with matching shitty lunches, Jeff’s wheedling him for information on the next big bad instead of the note burning a hole in Eddie’s pocket.

It’s probably a joke, definitely a joke.

He finds himself combing the packed lunch tables anyway, looking for anything out of the ordinary, anyone paying more attention to him than usual. There’s nothing. Harrington’s letterman on a different girl, a few band geeks sitting closer together than usual, nothing else.

No one looks at him at all.

He gives it up as a bad job and forgets the note entirely until he finds a wet, pulpy mess in his pocket on his next laundry day.

A little part of Eddie mourns the only love note he’s likely ever to get, cruel prank or not.

But there’s another one there the following week. There’s an envelope this time–it’s light purple, his name written in a dark, careful black atop it.

He’s alone at his locker, no nosy friends to wheedle it out of him, but the hallway is full of other students rushing to make it to their next class, so he presses it carefully into his monster manual and bides his time.

He wants to wait until he’s in the privacy of his own home to open it. Eddie barely makes it to his van after school before he’s collapsing into the relative privacy of the windowless back and tearing through his backpack like a rabid dog.

He tries to be more careful with the envelope. But it’s sealed, and his prodding fingers tear it open in jagged lines.

That same light blue paper is nestled inside. He slips it out and unfolds it to read in the dank recesses of his parked van.

  Eddie –

  You always look so happy when you’re with your friends. I like the way your dimples always seem to peek out no matter how small your smile is. The big ones are my favorite, when you’re jumping up on the cafeteria table with all your teeth showing.

  You didn’t jump up on any tables last week. Was that because of me?

  You seemed upset after I gave you my letter. Do you even want me to write these? I don’t want to be a bother. If you do, maybe you could write back? Leave your reply in the back of the WXYZ encyclopedia, no one ever uses that one.

  If you don’t reply, then I won’t bother you anymore, okay?

  Yours, always,

  Your Secret Admirer

It could still be a joke. Eddie wouldn’t put it past some of the jocks in the school to put their girlfriends up to a long-con. Still, his heart’s fluttering like there’s a bird stuffed in there trying to get out.

It could be a joke. But Eddie’s already mentally picking out stationary and pondering word choices. There will be a letter tucked into the designated encyclopedia come tomorrow morning.

Eddie’s got a maiden to woo.

*** 

“What if he doesn’t respond?” Steve hisses in Chrissy’s ear.

She bats him away, which doesn’t seem like very good girlfriend behavior to Steve, but what does he know? He’s had exactly one real girlfriend, and she’d ditched him for another guy within the year.

“He’ll respond,” Chrissy whispers back, soothing his anxiety with a gentle pat to his shoulders.

The library’s not as empty as it was the last few times. Steve feels his heartbeat kick up every time someone looks up from their coursework and glances their way. At this rate, all his hair’s going to turn gray, ruining his best feature well before there’s even a flicker of a chance to kiss Eddie Munson on the lips.

“Why did we pick the library?” Steve asks.

Chrissy pauses in front of the bookcase holding the damning shelf of encyclopedias. She raises her eyebrow at him and asks, “what, you’d prefer the boy’s bathroom?” drolly.

“I remember when I thought you were nice,” Steve mutters quietly enough that he hopes she can’t hear him. By the way she rolls her eyes, he has no such luck.

Then, without further prompting, she bends down and pulls the WXYZ encyclopedia off the shelf. Steve’s heartbeat ratchets up as he peers over her crouched head and watches her dainty hand flip the cover open. There, tucked between the front board and the cover page, is a crisply folded piece of paper clearly ripped carelessly out of someone’s notebook.

Steve doesn’t care; he’d still open it if it was written on a used piece of toilet paper.

He reaches down past where Chrissy is still crouched to retrieve the note, but just like before, she slaps his hand back.

“Chrissy!”

She doesn’t respond, just plucks the note and slides the encyclopedia back into its place. Once standing, she links her arm with his, running soothing fingers up and down his forearm even as she pulls him along toward the back of the library.

She pushes him down into a vacant chair with deceptively strong arms; he always forgets how difficult cheerleading must be. Once he’s slumped into his own chair, she pulls the one across the table to his side and seats herself primly on it, legs crossed at her thighs.

Only then does she unfold the note and lay it gently on the table in front of him.

       Secret Admirer,

       I don’t know if this is a prank or if you genuinely like me, so I’m not really sure what to say. No one’s ever had a crush on me before, at least that I know of.  

 ��     I didn’t know my hair was nice. My uncle keeps trying to get me to cut it. One time I brushed it and it was so poofy I wore a bandanna until I washed it again. But you probably didn’t need to know that. I’m glad you like it though.

       The paper you picked is really pretty, and I can smell the perfume you sprayed on the envelope. Fresh flowers in the spring, or a sunny day.

       –Eddie

       P.S. You can keep writing. Your notes have been the best part of my days, and I hope mine will be for you, too.

Steve reads it over and over again. Eddie’s handwriting is spiky, but carefully rendered to be readable. The post script takes a little more squinting at the page, letters and words crowding over one another like he’d added it at the last minute.

From the few classes they’ve shared, a small part of Steve was worried he wouldn’t be able to read it at all. But, no, Eddie’d taken the time to smooth out each letter, even while half convinced this was a prank. And the bit about his Uncle and his poofy hair? Adorable.

Steve brushes his fingers reverently over the words, half afraid they’ll smudge beneath his fingers. His face aches from the force of his smile.

“What should I say back?” Steve asks, looking up at Chrissy, feeling manic, hopeful, brave. Only then does he notice her carefully averted gaze, the way her body is turned just slightly away. He pushes the page toward her. “Come on, Chris, read it.”

She leans back toward him, smiling as she readjusts her body in a better position to read. “I didn’t want to presume.”

“Aren’t couples supposed to share?” Steve asks, because even when he’s happy enough to beam light straight out of his pores, he’s fundamentally a bitch.

Chrissy doesn’t respond, already too absorbed in Eddie’s words to pay him any attention, not that he can blame her. Steve waits, bursting with stupid, tender feelings until she’s read the thing through and put the page back on the table, placed perfectly between them.

“So, what should I say?” Steve asks.

Chrissy, never one to make things easy on him, starts the way she’s started every other letter-writing session so far: “What do you want to say?”

*** 

The letter her and Steve had written together is in her bag, Steve understandably too fearful to carry it himself. She’d taken it home, used her nicer stationery and a decorative envelope because, as Steve had pointed out repeatedly, Eddie’d seemed to appreciate how pretty the last letter was.

He’d sounded almost wretched when he said it, like proof that Eddie liked the pretty embellishments she’d put on his words was all he’d needed to know that his feelings would never be reciprocated.

She hadn’t known what to say.

So, she’d taken it home, gussied it up, and brought it back to the school, waiting for an opportune moment to push it through the slats of Eddie’s locker.

Steve’s been walking her to class and to lunch, playing the dutiful boyfriend up. She likes it, all this time with him.

He’s the best boyfriend she’s ever had.

Jason, his only competition for the title, has looked more and more pinch-faced every time they’ve crossed paths. She wishes, almost, that he’d yell at her, hit her, do something. It feels like waiting for a bomb to blow.

It’s not a surprise when the explosion finally hits.

“Are you serious, Chrissy?” Jason asks, and she spins, heartbeat rabbiting in her chest to find him storming toward her. And there’s a look on his face that she’s never seen before–not even when they’d broken up that first time.

His eyes are hard, mouth open like he’s one second away from shouting, and as he speaks, both his fists clench as he steps toward her. She can’t help the way she stumbles back into Steve, feeling comforted as his arm comes out to steady her.

“You replaced me with him?” and he sneers that last word, like Steve’s gum he’s scraping off his shoe.

Jason used to go on and on about Steve back in their Freshman year, before whatever the hell that had happened with Nancy Wheeler had mellowed him out. Before that, he’d been the unmitigated king. King of the keg stand, sure, but king of the court, king of the cafeteria, king of them all, and Jason had deferred to him.

But after, as Steve closed in on himself–Carol and Tommy still distant placeholders at his sides– Jason hadn’t talked about him anymore. Like he was infected now, and whatever he had might be spreading.

Chrissy'd only liked Steve more.

So, she shores herself up with the pressure of Steve’s arm on her back and points a shaking finger directly into Jason’s enraged face. “We broke up, Jason Carver,” she says, surprised when her voice doesn’t even crack. “It’s none of your business who I see.”

Jason’s mouth hangs open, clearly shocked, and a small part of Chrissy aches for how it was before. She always thought they’d be those high school sweethearts who got married right out of college. They’d just fit, or she thought they had.

He used to be nicer, sweet almost, in the way he’d talk to her.

It’d been a long time since Chrissy would classify any of the words coming out of his mouth as sweet.

Jason’s looking between them, eyes wide, something hurt leeching in past all that anger as he says, “you’ll come back,” in such quiet assurance that it makes her gut twist.

Chrissy watches him turn and walk away, stuck in the moment, until Steve squeezes her waist and asks, “are you alright, babe?”

It’s only with the word “babe” falling out of Steve’s lips that she realizes they’ve attracted an audience. So, she smiles like she’s leading a cheer for all to see, looks up into Steve’s eyes and replies, “never better.”

They continue on their way into lunch.

Once there, she eats as Steve watches Eddie’s latest table-top rant with hearts in his eyes big enough to see from the moon. Like he hadn’t given an almost identical one the week before. Steve doesn’t seem to mind. He’s transfixed, like Eddie’s a succubus and Steve’s stuck in his thrall. Until she elbows him in the side and he goes back to his lunch after shooting her a wounded look.

Boys in love are stupid creatures, and she’s willing to do whatever it takes to protect this one, even if it’s just from himself.

PART 3

[aealzx]

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Update Post

Prologue | AO3

Previous

_______________________

“...o, he hasn’t woken up yet.”

Someone had entered the room that morning, and now Jazz was talking to someone that could have been them or another person entirely. The haze of their lowered conversation was helping to pull Danny from the fog of sleep. But after the initial part it sounded like the conversation was one sided.

“Clothes?.... Actually, I don’t know what he would like. He hasn’t bought anything for himself for two years now. And never has a response when we ask.”

That response made Danny feel like they were talking about him. Jazz and whoever she was talking to. It was probably on the phone. He felt a little bad, but what she had just said was true. He hadn’t really done much when it came to clothing lately. Sam and Tucker had mostly been the ones to give his Phantom attire an update, and he just hadn’t bothered to address anything else.

“No, I’m not going to wake him up. He needs his rest-”

“Mmm… ‘s fine, J’zz. ‘M awake,” Danny forced himself to mumble even though he wasn’t quite fully alert yet. Relaxing in the study the previous evening had been really nice, and his spirits had risen a little when the few sips of broth he’d had a few hours before bed hadn’t made him sick again. But he still felt like a truck had hit him in his sleep, which made that morning hard. “Izzat for me? Here…” he asked, lazily flopping his hand into the air so that Jazz could give him the phone.

Jazz seemed to consider it for a moment, but eventually sighed and walked over to put the borrowed cellphone in Danny’s hand. Danny couldn’t see, having not managed to open his eyes yet, but Alfred was waiting patiently at the door to get it back. For now Danny just flopped it next to his head and turned his ear into it. “Mm…’ello?”

“Danny! Good morning~”

It was Stephanie. Chiming in a bubbly way that was much too energetic for… what time was it? Still felt too early.

“So, we’re out shopping and getting some new clothes for everyone, but your friends are being unhelpful and keep saying you don’t have any kind of style you like. Soooo, you get to answer. What would you like us to pick up for you? And what size do you usually wear?” Stephanie rambled, anticipating Danny would have more answers than the others.

“Uhhhhhh….,” Danny stalled, both because he was still waking up and she had said a lot of words, but also because he didn’t have an answer. “I dunno. A t-shirt and jeans? I’m usually a size smaller than Tucker though.”

“Seriously? That’s it? That’s so boring,” Stephanie complained.

“See? We told you, but you didn’t believe us.” Danny could hear Tucker’s voice, and figured he was on speaker.

“He just kept wearing the same clothes he had when he was fourteen, and only has new ones because the rest of us bought some for him. But he was so unhelpful then too that we had to settle for just getting him space themed stuff,” Sam huffed, and Danny could hear her folding her arms in annoyance.

“Hey, I got a lot of other stuff to worry about than clothes,” Danny protested to defend himself.

“You like space themed stuff though?” Dick’s voice chimed in now.

“Yeah, I still like space,” Danny confirmed. “Can’t do much with it these days, but I’ve always wanted to be an astronaut,” he admitted, feeling a little embarrassed about admitting his childhood dream.

“Cool. What about puns?” Dick hummed, adding another question quickly.

“No. Dick, don’t you dare,” Stephanie scolded.

Danny could only smile though. “I love puns,” he confirmed, not able to pick out who was all contributing to the chorus of groans and complaints, “Why? You got a good one?”

“Maybe. You’ll see,” Dick’s response was with barely held mirth. “Thanks kiddo, take it easy,” he bid before ending the call.

Well at least that was something to look forward to. Danny’s smile didn’t fade as he lifted the phone from the pillow to hand back to Jazz, who then returned it to Alfred. He ended up rolling over and laying there for a little longer, which made Jazz giggle and run her fingers through his hair for a bit. It was comfortable, and at least he wasn’t so tired he fell asleep right after waking up.

“...Alfred made some more of the broth you got last night. Do you want to try some more?” Jazz eventually asked when Danny finally managed to keep his eyes open and focus on things.

Danny considered how he felt before answering, and ended up nodding. “These help,” he admitted, pointing to the anti nausea patch behind his ear. It was enough confirmation for Jazz to move to help him sit up, stuffing all the pillows she could behind him when he was upright so he wouldn’t have to worry about spilling. The broth really did taste good, despite only being slightly warmer than room temperature. He found that if he only took small sips, and waited awhile between them he didn’t end up with his stomach wanting to revolt again. Maybe eventually he’d want a fat burger again, but for now this was enough.

He soon learned that he hadn’t woken up until after 10:00 am, but while that felt weird to hear he eventually realized there was nothing wrong with it. Apparently the others had been out all morning, Stephanie having come to get them since it was a holiday for her school. Not that her attendance was stellar anyway with all the mishaps she ended up in during the daytime, but it helped convince Bruce to let her carry on. She’d even managed to drag Dick and Barbara to join them. And that and the phonecall earlier led to Dick being the one to burst into the bedroom shortly after noon with the bags he’d promised over the phone.

“Head’s up!” Dick called as the only warning before he tossed a new t-shirt over Danny’s head.

“Dick!” Barbara scolded mildly, having only heard how Danny was doing and not completely sure he was up for being harassed.

To her surprise Danny just snorted. “It’s fine. It’s just a shirt,” he excused, pulling the t-shirt off his face and spreading it where he could see. While Dick grinned triumphantly at Barbara before turning to watch Danny expectantly, Danny quickly read the text on the shirt and promptly half choked on a snort. “HAHAHAHA H-,” he erupted with full on laughter, wheezing as he tried to vocalize the text. “I have - PFFFF HAHAHA - so many prob- HHHHH Jazz,” he howled and wheezed, turning the shirt so his sister could see the astronaut image surrounded by the text ‘Houston, I have so many problems’.

“Oh-.... Ohhhhh that’s great,” Jazz grimaced, giving a thumbs up as the content of the shirt was enough to dampen her own joy over seeing Danny laughing so openly. Considering his current situation, Danny probably thought it was rather fitting.

“I’m so upset we were right that he would love that,” Sam grumbled with a shake of her head.

“I think it’s great,” Danielle chimed in, though not laughing quite as much as Danny since she’d already seen everything.

“Of course you do,” Tucker sighed.

“I have more!” Dick took that as a chance to continue, plopping on the bed and digging out another shirt to pass over to Danny.

“Oh no, I’m leaving. Have fun,” Tucker groaned, quickly heading out the door partially to get away from what he had a feeling was going to be a terrible session of puns and bad jokes, and partially to take care of his own haul. Sam was quick to follow his lead, dragging Danielle after them so she didn’t skip out on helping.

As Danny excitedly held up the next shirt another honk laugh escaped him, though not quite as uproarious as the first. “HA! Just need space. Classic,” he complimented, lowering the shirt to his lap and looking up at Dick again to see if he had more.

“This was the last shirt they had, but if you want more puns after I have plenty to give,” Dick complied, handing the final printed shirt over to Danny.

It took Danny a second to realize the graphic of the earth was suggested to be spinning, staring at the conversation between the characterized moon and their own planet. The moon was asking what the earth was doing, and the earth responded ‘Making everyone’s day’, and as soon as the joke clicked in Danny’s head he was almost crying with laughter again. He didn’t even notice Stephanie joyfully recording both of them.

“Give me what else you have,” Danny requested after getting his breath back, reaching out to tug on Dick’s arm. It felt good to laugh. Even if it hurt his ribs, hurt the still healing burns on his chest, it felt good to just sit and laugh about something stupid. He didn’t want to give it up just yet, and it seemed Dick had actually planned for this in the past few hours after learning Danny loved puns too.

“Alright, get comfy ‘cause I have got a real gemstore to show you,” Dick agreed eagerly, squirming up onto the bed next to Danny and getting comfortable as well where they could both look at his phone. He had a folder saved just for collecting his favorites.

Danny was quick to settle into place wedged against Dick’s side, quickly reading and giggling or outright barking more laughter as they flipped through the saved images of jokes ranging from ‘I’m more confused than a chameleon in a bag of skittles’ to ‘astronomers got tired of waiting for the sun to go down, so they decided to call it a day’. Throughout the scrolling and varying degrees of laughter at the jokes, Danny even added some of his own that he remembered after seeing some of the others. 

Eventually their session was interrupted by Damian pausing at the doorway, getting their attention with a light knock.

“Pennyworth would like to know if you would prefer supper in the study once more,” the youngest Wayne informed, and waited for the response.

“Who…?” was what Danny ended up responding with, having not heard people’s last names yet.

“Alfred. Damian calls everyone by their last names,” Dick thankfully supplied, earning a small noise of understanding from Danny. It wasn’t hard to tell the hours and hours of jokes had worn him out, but he seemed quite content so Dick didn’t feel bad. “You’ve upgraded to the couch already though? Hell yeah.”

The comment made Danny snort again, though he also had to grimace at Dick incredulously. “What kind of lifestyle do you people live?” he asked before giving a quick answer to Damian. “Here is fine for today. If that’s okay.”

“Why wouldn’t it be? Your recovery is of utmost importance to those in this household. If supper in bed will facilitate that, then it is of no consequence to anything else,” Damian responded easily, giving them a nod before leaving to report back to Alfred.

“Eh. We’ve had our fair share of injuries through the years,” Dick admitted to Danny’s question, lifting a finger to tap the small bandage on his own forehead once. “Enough that a knife wound is more like a papercut,” he half joked.

Danny snickered at the response, but wasn’t sure how he really felt about it. Was it really a good thing to be so used to being hurt that they seemed to have started making a game out of things relating to it? Maybe it was just something so inevitable for people like them, that they’d just had to make the most of it in the best way they knew how.

“Does it…,” Danny found himself speaking before he’d fully committed to the question in his mind. He had half the thought to retract his half voiced question, but opted instead to complete it. “Does it ever get to be too much?”

The question made Dick recognize a little more about what state of mind Danny was in, and his brows furrowed in concern before he eventually brought the smile back. “All the time,” he admitted. “Especially when you get all these meta humans and aliens involved. But… it’s too hard to stop.”

For a moment Danny had forgotten that the others, aside from Duke, didn’t have any special abilities that weren’t common for a regular human. It must be very stressful for them to have to deal with people like him that ended up rogue. But also, hearing someone else admit that they too, sometimes, only kept going because it was too hard for them to stop brought Danny a strange kind of bitter comfort. Maybe they were just all doomed together.

But, even if they were, at least he had company.

“...Thanks,” Danny chose to respond, relaxing a little more heavily into the pillows. The laughter had felt good, but the exhaustion and aches didn’t. “For all the jokes. I loved them.”

Dick could only grin fondly, reaching out to ruffle Danny’s hair after sitting upright. “No problem, kid. Anytime you need some more, just let me know.”

“Does that mean I can have your number after I get my phone back?”

Dick could only snort, having not expected that question. “Sure. We’ll figure something out for the whole interdimensional communication thing. I’m sure someone has already figured it out,” he chuckled, scooting to the edge of the bed to get ready to join the others at dinner.

Danny could only hum in acknowledgement, content with that answer, and let Dick leave to get his own food. Having someone to appreciate good jokes with was something to look forward to at least.

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Iiiii struggled a lil with this one too =3= But there were some notes I needed to be mentioned before getting too far along.

Thank you for whoever sent me some puns though XDD they really helped. I love puns, but I'm terrible at coming up with any or even remembering them.

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Tag list: @galaxy-sharks-and-bottled-ships, @starscreamlover, @nerdynonnativenarnian, @dragongoblet, @megacharizardx99

@bellathecatastrophe, @cj-ghostemoji-destielpie, @asexual-insomniac, @wolfeyedwitch, @tkiesai, 

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[ollimus-prime]

HAIIII OLLIE !!!!1!1!!!!!!1!!!!!◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜ ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜ ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜ IM LOWKEY SOOOOOO EXCITED THAT YOURE WRITING FOR TRANSFORMERS ON A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT BLOG ENTIRELY MADE FOR IT!!!!1! + you already KNOW who it is — ITS YOUR BOY 😼😼 /ref

i’ve been tweaking so hard over tfone b-127 bumblebae boy bc he’s so auuuhhh — 😭😭 got me on my knees bc my type in men is so golden retriever boyfriends, BUT SPEAKING OF GOLDEN RETRIEVER BOYFRIENDS!!

i hope you don’t mind me requesting b-127 with a fem cybertronian reader who’s just his female counterpart drabble or hcs? like it’s giving yapper x yapper and golden retriever x golden retriever, no freaking doubt both fell for eachother the moment they introduced themselves and started to yap together. OK I TALK TOO MUCH, PLS TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF OLLIE!!! DRINK UP, EAT UP, SLEEP WELL AND TAKE BREAKSSSS!! Loves ya much :)

Yapper Adoration

A/N, not important: Hope you like it, Frankie. I tried my best. Also, it's Gender Neutral, not fem. Sorry! Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: N/A(unless y'all see smth I need to add)

Words: 554

Summary: B-127 finally has someone to talk to

B-127 was first introduced to you via Elita-1. She had met you during her time in waste management, your bubbly and eager-to-please personality strikingly similar to B’s own. Elita-1, knowing she had two loud and boisterous bots that needed constant attention, stuck you together in hopes that you would both get along and stop bothering everyone else. To Elita-1’s delight and slight horror, the two of you stuck together like magnets.

B-127 finally had someone who not only was willing to listen to him, but someone who actively engaged in what he said. Not to mention you had worked similar jobs, causing a bond to form from the toil of sorting garbage and the dream of doing more. You were just as positive and rambunctious as him, causing B-127 to immediately latch onto you as his new best friend.

Not that you minded, of course. You had your fair share of bots who’ve been annoyed by your endless chatter, and finding someone who was similar to you in personality and mannerism was just as freeing to you as it was to B. Neither of you were much willing to separate after your first meeting. Despite Elita’s chiding of you both moving too fast, you had started dating the kind and energetic bot.

You’re also one of the only bots B-127’s met that didn’t immediately think he was insane. Sure, you’ve joked about his ‘friends’ that he made down in sub level 50 before, but he didn’t sense a hostility in your tone like most others seem to have. You encouraged his interests and helped him find new friends, showing support he’s never truly received before.

There’s never silence when either of you are around, both of you capable of listening to the other’s prattling just as much as you converse back and forth. Having someone willing to listen to your interests and engage with them is something neither of you really realized you needed. While you were definitely more socially aware than B was, you weren’t much better at keeping friends around.

You comfort him a lot after D-16’s departure, allowing him to express his feelings in a healthy way while dealing with his quick gain and loss of friends. He leans on your positive attitude to keep his intact as well, and he’s incredibly grateful to have you. He wants to have all of his friends back, but having you to lean on after losing one so quickly makes it easier to manage.

Neither of you ever stop bragging about landing each other, the both of you getting into basic lovers quarrels over who loves the other more. Whenever you’re seen together, you’re almost always touching in some way. Whether it’s holding hands, hugging, or leaning against each other, there’s not much that can make either of you stray far enough to not be glued to the other. It’s mostly for B’s sake, as being alone for so long really had to put a strain on his mental health. Being able to hang onto you is a good reminder you’re not only real, but that you’re not going anywhere.

He’s your best friend through and through, and feels super safe with you. He wants you to know you’re his favorite person and reminds you like, every few minutes. You’re everything he’s ever wanted.

[strangelysamantha]

✧ smut. ❀ fluff. ☆ angst.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ outer banks masterlist *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ jj maybank… (25)

- jj’s reaction to you flinching ☆

♡ jj is shocked when he finds out you flinched because of him, and even worse when he realized you thought he would actually hit you.

- crumbled cookies ☆

♡ you decide it would be a good surprise to stop by jjs house quickly to drop off some of your homemade cookies, since you believe he isn’t feeling the best. then, unexpectedly jj's dad comes home with an unwelcoming embrace, which ruins the surprise.

- crumbled cookies pt 2 ☆

♡ after jj finds out his dad was the reason for your black eye, he had to confront him.

- seashells ❀

♡ jj sees you at the beach, but he’s too nervous to interact with you. you notice him behind you, and you invite him to join you. he’s excited to hang with you, as well as find beautiful shells hidden in the sand!

- waves of heat ❀

♡ wearing jjs shirt while on the hms pogue and him begging you to go swimming.

- you’re mine ❀

♡ at the beach a random tourist had something to say about you, and he touched you when you didn’t want him too. jealousy sends jj wild, and he’s pissed, but he can’t even act on it.

- hatred runs out ❀

♡ you are a kook, you were trying to befriend the pogues as they made you happier than you had been in months. the only downside, none of them were quite welcoming, besides jj.

- filled ✧

♡ jj smut where he has a size kink.

- scared for you ☆

♡ when a fight breaks out between you and jj, he can’t help but be petty and ignore you. this causes you to be left alone at a kegger.

- the deep end ☆

♡ jj somehow finds everything you do annoying to the point he criticizes everything you do. john b thinks of a plan that will ensure his two friends will befriend each other. it was working at first, until it wasn’t.

- forceful ☆

♡ barry continuously flirts and sexualizes you, and when jj finds out, it isn’t pretty.

- shorty ❀

♡ your boyfriend and the pogues love picking on you for your height.

- replaced chickens ☆

♡ after sarah replaced you and jj, the two of you were determined to confront john b. if you both could find the guts to do so.

- one sided hatred ❀

♡ when john b exposes that he isn’t too fond of you, jj takes total offense to that, annoyed john b could even think about you in a bad manner.

- embarrassed ☆

♡ you rant to an old friend, complaining that it is sometimes embarrassing to be with jj and he ends up finding out. but what he learns isn’t the truth, it is actually the farthest from it.

- hair “prank” ❀

♡ jj's lousy joke about shaving his hair off upsets you more than he expected it would.

- i’m making him watch ✧

♡ jj is jealous about a tourist hitting on you, he fucks you good to make sure you don´t forget why you are with him.

- scars ☆

♡ jj comes to you after a blow out with his father. you clean his bruises as well as clean his awful mindset he has on life.

- hair tech ❀

♡ your hair wasn’t looking the way you wanted, so jj offered to try and learn to fix it. with the newly learned hair techniques, came the exposure of feelings. having to avoid telling john b, he conveniently walks in during the worst time.

- mirror sex ✧

♡ jj fucks you while he makes you watch his reflection.

- nerves ❀

♡ jj is too nervous around you, he struggles to tell you how he really feels.

- wet dreams ✧

♡ jj and you cuddle after a fun day of swimming with your friends. once sleep takes over, jjs dream runs wild, and with you in his bed, how could he keep the naughty thoughts at bay?

- ruined reputation ☆

♡ “i don’t want to date someone who’s embarrassed to be seen with me jj.” jj is originally embarrassed for others to know that you two are dating. he fears what his friends would think. but is his reputation more important than him keeping you?

- wasted ☆

♡ “you were supposed to be my soulmate, but you threw it all away so you could screw some girl?” in which jj makes a grave mistake cheating on you.

- sweet dreams ✧

♡ jj fucks you while you are asleep.

…

↳ john b… (3)

- inexpressible feelings ❀

♡ drunk words are sober thoughts, are they not? john b drunkenly asks you on a date, since that’s the only time he has the guts to talk to you.

- struggling ❀

♡ john b is struggling, and he finds himself venting to you about his lost father.

- tripped ❀

♡ john b embarrasses himself in front of you and is trying to get past it.

…

↳ pope heyward… (5)

- small details ❀

♡ “i never thought you’d pay attention to me in that way.” when pope accidentally reveals to you, that he does indeed, pay attention to the little things you do.

- avoidable jealousy ❀

♡ pope mistakes the bond you have with jj as something more than friends. this influences him into becoming jealous of something that wasn't happening.

- deserve better ✧

♡ after kiara told you she openly plays with pope’s feelings, there’s only so much you can do before you blow up on her.

- hopeless romantic ❀

♡ you visit pope at work, as often as you can. you help him, listen to him, flirt with him, and match his energy. his feelings for you are undeniable.

- party moves ❀

♡ it’s a boring party until pope shows up, and the atmosphere makes it easy to express your true feelings.

…

↳ rafe cameron… (17)

- act like it, get treated like it ✧

♡ rafe cameron doing what he does best.

- patience can be rewarding ✧

♡ you were confused as to why rafe was being extra clingy today. whether he meant to do it on purpose, or he was unintentionally obsessing over you, you decided to make a deal with him. if he could leave you alone, and undistracted long enough for you to finish your project, then you’ll make him feel good.

- elderly advice ❀

♡ when you work at a golf course as a cart girl, you are happy because that means you’ll be seeing rafe more often. but there’s a downside when you realize that kelce and topper will see you more often as well, and with seeing them more often, you also get to hear their harsh words.

- bittersweet ☆

♡ you went to a local party by the beach when rafes unstable side peeked out. jj maybank finds you alone and decides to talk to you. rafe gets possessive and upset, thinking that jj was hitting on you.

- are you busy? ✧

♡ cockwarming rafe since he’s too busy to pay any attention to you, because he’s busy doing work for his father.

- crashing ☆

♡ rafe is waiting for you to meet him at figure 8, but he’ll be waiting awhile as you got in a tragic car accident, the other vehicle being driven by his father.

- malice compliments ❀

♡ rafe tries to flirt with you, but you believe it is malice and that he is pulling a lame prank on you.

- crystal clear ❀

♡ rafe cameron found out you were hiding crystals in his room, car, and pockets. he goes to topper to see if he knew what was going on, and after topper explained what it meant, he confronts you.

- shark bite ☆

♡ what was once a fun day on the beach filled with surfing, quickly became a bloody and painful nightmare.

- cheerleader ❀

♡ rafe was intrigued by you, he wanted to get to know you. he thought that task would be easy, but your distaste for him was apparent. despite the overwhelming amount of setbacks, he knew he would get you to crack.

- cheerleader two ✧

♡ the aftermath of rafe going to a football game for you and seeing you in a tight cheer outfit.

- wish you were sober ☆

♡ based on conan grays song, wish you were sober. in which watching after rafe becomes too tiring after he loses control again.

- surprise ❀

♡ throwing a surprise birthday party was definitely harder than you had expected, especially one for rafe.

- bonfire ☆

♡ rafe is overprotective of you at the bonfire and possessive!rafe doesn’t like the tourons staring at you.

- unfortunate events ☆

♡ rafe cameron is so overprotective, but that doesn’t stop him from putting you in harm's way. after reckless driving lands you in the hospital, your relationship is on the rocks.

- exposed ❀

♡ rafe sees a text from topper, exposing your little crush on him. at first you try to play it off, but you gain enough confidence to tell rafe about your feelings.

- promise ❀

♡ with matching halloween pajamas, you and your boyfriend are ready for some spooky movies.

…

↳ topper thornton… (2)

- sugar daddy ❀

♡ topper takes you shopping, something he didn’t think he was actually going to enjoy doing.

- realizations hit hard ❀

♡ topper tries to set you up with kelce, but he soon realizes he doesn’t want you to be with kelce. he wants you to be with him.

…

↳ sarah cameron… (5)

- girl that you love ☆

♡ when you accidentally read the situation wrong, and you expose yourself for liking sarah in a more than friendly way, she is quick to turn you down. “i’m sorry i gave you the wrong impression.” sarah isn’t gay, and she definitely doesn’t like you that way.

- lucky woman ❀

♡ sarah cameron finds out you have a crush on a girl, unbeknownst to her, she is that special lady. you know you can’t tell sarah about how you feel since she’s dating john b, so you have to quickly think of a crush that you can expose to sarah.

- secretly in love ❀

♡ a secret relationship between you and sarah, what could possibly go wrong?

- sunset confessions ❀

♡ all it took was one boat ride to change everything. when sarah cameron decides to tell you about her undeniable feelings, while the two of you watch the sunset.

- girl that you love pt 2 ❀

♡ after humiliating yourself after your confession to sarah, you find yourself comforted by kiara.

…

↳ the pogues… (1)

- life jackets ❀

♡ since you don’t know how to swim, you have to wear a life jacket. the pogues think it’s the funniest thing ever.

…

[siolixz]

⋆｡°✩ Of Love and Loyalty⋆｡°✩

One-Shot

+18

Pairings: Oz "The Penguin" Cobb x Reader

Reader takes Victor's place in this story. She and Oz have a difficult relationship- he clearly likes her and she is conflicted in her feelings towards him (Eve doesn't have a sexual relationship with Oz in this). While I am between chapters, I decided to write this. Life has been so busy lately- so I apologize. Everyone in this story is 18+ and consenting. I've listened to Lana while writing this sooooo

Enjoy and give feedback If you want :)

Warnings: mentions of violence, smut , gunplay (¬‿¬)

After the death of your parents you were in a bad place, evidently. In a bad place, with the wrong type of people- stealing rims; trying to get by and scraping for food every day, life was miserable in Crown Point and it seemed like there was no way out.

 Not until he found you; shots firing by your head- he cornered you in the street- with a gun in your face. 

“P-please, please do-don’t.” all the words your stupid mouth could pronounce, he looked at you and he decided you were going to live- for the time being. 

This man, he was like a force of nature- so different, so strange. He was the most terrifying person you ever met in your life, from the way he carried himself to the way he dressed- you knew he was a mobster. Someone that the boys on the block, the ones that thought they were ‘tough’ and bullied people like you- people that needed help- could only ever dream of being like. 

Only in small glimpses could you see the man that was underneath; he was lonely, that much you knew- he was a man who dreamed of being respected, of being feared and loved, by all- maybe by you too, by the way you would catch him staring at you, the way he touched you sometimes- on your shoulder, on your hips- one time he brushed the hair out of your face, small acts of domestic kindness gave you glimpses into his desires, his wants and needs.  

“Where you from, kid?” He asked you about your life, he listened and he showed how kind he was, regarding your father and mother and your sister, for the first time since the traumatic event someone listened- everything, everything was taken from you.

He told you, “You have to be hard as nails, think on your feet.” He was right, people like you had to fight for the things they needed, the things they had to get in order to survive. He was like a mentor, you looked up to him, really- you did, but you were also scared, scared that one day you’re gonna do something wrong- say something wrong and he will put a bullet between your eyes before you know it. You couldn’t leave, if you did he was going to find you- the thought of that sent shivers down your spine.

As Robert told you about him leaving for California, you felt a rug being pulled from underneath you- he was the only thing tying you to your old life, the old you. The one who used to sneak into abandoned buildings with your friends; the one who ran home from school to meet up with him and your other friends to hang outside together- to enjoy life. 

“Why-why would you do that? Your whole life is here” you asked him. You and Robert enjoyed each other’s company, he kissed you a few times but that was all, he wasn’t your boyfriend, though you cared for each other.

“Not anymore” he told you “Our families are dead…we gotta care for ourselves now. Look at you, living in this nice apartment- it’s crazy he lets you stay here.” He looked around, almost not believing HE was here, let alone you. You told him that you do some paperwork for this club owner and he lets you stay in one of his spare apartments as payment, a good enough lie, he didn’t probe further. 

“Wh-when are you leaving?” you asked and as he told you that tomorrow night- you wanted to cry, beg him to stay.

“You could come with me” he grabbed your hands and leaned down to look at you “we could start over.” 

You looked at him and nodded “Robert, I-i’m not sure he…he will let me leave.” You took a deep breath. 

“Who? Your boss?” he asked.” Why would he care if you left? Does he-“ Robert took a pause, debating if he was going to ask you this or not “-does he ask for other things too?” You knew exactly what he was referring to. 

“N-no, nothing like that. Robert... this guy, he’s not just like a-a club owner.” you looked him in the eyes, trying to find a way to break this to him “He-he’s like…like a gangster.”

Jack’s eyes went wide “Then you definitely shouldn’t work for this guy. You need to leave.” He’s right, you did need to leave.

How is he gonna know? He’s too busy with Sofia to care for the moment, too concentrated on the new drug- this could be a way out- to get out of this city- for good this time. Leave all the pain in Gotham, start a new life.

 “The bus is leaving tomorrow night, 11pm, promise i’ll see you there?”

“Yes, promise.’ He gave you a quick kiss and left. 

After he came back home, he told you every detail he could think about. He seemed excited, that’s good. He told you he’s gonna need you tomorrow, he had a meeting with the Triads, apparently he forged an alliance with Sofia. Good, good for him, you were happy. Way too happy to see HIM happy, he was your captor- you shouldn't be happy for him.

Too bad you’re not gonna stick around to find out how the deal ends.

 While you were thinking of ways you could tell him about you disappearing while you waited in the Maserati- you were interrupted by a cop and you followed your ‘mentor’s’ words, “think on your feet”---he told you that evening that he was proud of you; as he smiled and grabbed your hand at the lunch you had to observe Luca’s wife at. 

This ‘intimacy’ he placed on you, he was going further and further every day. You didn’t want this, did you? Your stomach did a flip whenever he touched you or looked at you, maybe you wanted to be loved too, protected. 

Oz was also a charismatic man and pretty funny too, so what's not to like? Besides all the killing, he joked around with you and it seemed he enjoyed when you would give him a remark back, when you showed him you had it in you. 

You were leaving tomorrow, when he was gonna be busy at the club- his club. As he was talking to Sofia, he instructed you to be the supplier to the hookers giving the people in the club ‘Bliss’ that’s how he called it. 

His idea, you were sure.  You had to be dressed the part, in a tight white dress so short you couldn’t bend over at all in, your breast barely covered by the material. 

Between trying to calm your nerves and trying to ignore the way Oz was looking you up and down like a starving man looking at a 3 course meal, this night was going to be hard to get through. 

But you already made a plan, when everyone was distracted, the girls with the customers and Oz with the Triads- you were going to escape. Out the back door and into the night- for a chance at a better life. 

As the evening went on the girls were becoming more and more demanding, people loved ‘Bliss’ and they sure loved you, when you came by- with the product in your purse they cheered for you; they knew your name, some even hit on you- but that’s not important.  

You had to “get your head in the game” like he would say, Oz, it felt so wrong to think like this but you felt bad, a part of you felt like you were gonna let him down- break his heart.

You weren’t ambitious like he taught you to be, you were a coward, afraid of a life like this, afraid of a life with him. 

He was always so full of confidence, of pride- you wanted him to be proud of you too.  Maybe he was going to be so happy he was gonna take the next step and kiss you, you didn’t want this, did you? This dangerous man, he killed people, he murdered them in cold blood and he liked it too.

He was also kind and funny and lonely, so lonely; you were lonely too, you could have a better life here in Gotham, as well- under his wing. 

You checked your phone “Bus is leaving in one hr, u coming?” Robert texted you.

Yes, yes of course you were coming, you had to get to the staff bathroom- upstairs, so you could leave his cash there; change into your old clothes- jeans and a t-shirt- blend into the crowd and leave. 

As Roxy called out your name and pulled you into the crowd, ‘to dance’ she yelled. You couldn’t look suspicious, play the part- play the part, you repeated in your head. 

“You two look like a match.” She yelled in your ear and smirked at you.

“Wh-who?” 

“You and the big boss” she grabbed your waist almost embracing you “Did you fuck him yet? Or are you saving yourself for marriage?” She giggled in your ear as she told you that.

“No.” You answered, clear as day. You saw the way they looked at you- back at Oz’s apartment, you just thought you looked different from them, they were all dressed so nice and you looked like you’ve been to hell and back, because you did- so that’s why they were whispering and giggling to themselves about. 

You told Roxy you had to go, said your goodbyes and you left immediately after. 

In the bathroom, you looked another time at your phone- “Bus is leaving in 30 min. Pls come.” Ok, you had to leav-

“Doll, we fucking did it! Triads are in.” The sound of the door being opened hard enough it almost fell off its hinges, made you immediately drop your phone near the sink ”Oh, it was sweet, you should’ve seen it. We gotta play it safe I mean I still got the Maronis on my ass.” he smiled at you, flashing his gold teeth and started to point his finger towards you.

“But you! Look at you, you fucking did it. I’m proud of you, so fucking proud of you!” He came closer to you and grabbed your face- cradling it, “I told Roxy to order some of that red wine you like- the good stuff, cmon!” He grabbed your upper arm and in the worst timing possible-your phone started ringing near the sink- you quickly turned around and closed it. 

“Give it to me-” He’s going to kill you. 

“Oz-”

“Now, GODDAMIT!” he yelled and you jumped. Your heart beating a thousand miles per hour, he couldn’t see what the texts were, he was going to go crazy. Now for sure, he was going to kill you. Great. You unlocked your phone and gave it to him, your knees felt like play doh.  

As he blinked and looked down at your phone, you could see him scroll through the messages. He looked up at you and you could swear you could see him think about what he was gonna say to you. This man- who was never quiet-was reduced to silence, for the first time since you met him.  God, this was a mistake, why did you want to leave, you didn’t want to leave him.

“We’re this fucking close and you wanna bail on me like that, for what? Some fucking guy who doesn’t care about you.” he said, brows furrowed. He didn’t know Robert, didn’t know if he cared about you or not, yet he is pretty sure he doesn’t- maybe he cares more than him. “With my fucking money, huh?” he asked, after looking at your purse and you. 

“N-no, I swear, it’s not-not about that.” You pleaded, hopefully he was gonna listen, please listen, you thought. 

“What did you have huh? Before I found you? Nothing.” He was right, you did have nothing “I gave you food, shelter, a job and I’m still not good enough for you-”

“Oz, n-no this isn't about that.” you pleaded.

“It sure as shit looks like it. You think you’re too good for this life. You wanna go? Whadya waitin’ for?” he moved his much larger body out of the way, so you could have a clear path towards the door “Fucking go.” He looked almost sad- desperate in a way.

“I-i can’t.” You couldn’t leave, he was going to kill you; he told you that- multiple times.

“The fuck, you think I’m holding you hostage or something? Like you’re my prisoner” Yes, you are. Maybe you liked it, maybe this whole ‘im gonna escape' thing was all a bluff, you wanted a life like this, it excited you, it made your heart race- like he did. 

He moved his hand beneath his jacket and before you knew it- he pointed his gun at you.

“Oz-oz, hey-“ you started

“What did you have, huh? Before I found you?” He slowly started to move towards you, gun shoved near your face. “Fucking nothing. You were nothing. I would kill for you- I gave you so much of what I had, you have all the opportunity in the fucking world.” He came close enough you could smell his cologne and smell the whiskey on his breath “But this” he pressed the gun next to your head “this is all you feel!” His voice was breaking. 

“N-no-“ you tried to find the words to change his demeanor. You almost started to cry, your heart fell to your ass and you wanted the ground to swallow you whole right now

“This is all you feel, huh? Being with me?”  He looked into your eyes, his own brown eyes were being illuminated by the bathroom you were in, almost reddish- showing the anger and disappointment he probably felt- you let him down. 

“What else did you tell him, huh?” He asked, once he removed the gun from your temple, as he trailed it down your body, from your neck to your belly. “That I’m in the mob... that I kill people, that you helped hide a fucking dead body?” 

He was so close to you, the way he pressed you against the wall- reminding you of the first time you met him. “That I wanna fuck you?” He whispered.

His question made your ears and cheeks flush with blood and your heartbeat start pounding even more- if that was even possible. His gun trailed even lower and you thought he stopped pointing it at you, until you felt the cold barrel of it on your leg- goosebumps appeared on your skin, he trailed it up and up until it gripped your tight dress from underneath. 

His pupils were blown wide and his breath was getting heavier. “Truth is, you always had a choice.” He moved the gun even higher and with the help of his hand your thongs were on full display in front of him, your dress on your waist.  

He moved his gun to the front of your panties, pressing against your pubic bone- you didn't want to look down and stare at the shameful display.  

“And you choose to stay.” As he moved the gun near the part of the thong that was covering your clit and moved it down there, you couldn’t help the moan that escaped you and you looked down, partially because this was so shameful and partly because you didn’t want him to see how turned on you were. 

As you opened your eyes when you looked down- you saw his boner in his pants and the gun he had pointed towards you and the way he held it- like he actually was going to shoot you. 

“I’m-I’m sorry.” You whispered, hoping this would be enough. Maybe you could move on- you didn’t mean it. 

“Look at me.” you reluctantly raised your head “This is what you want, this life- doing this...Don’t fucking lie to yourself. You want to be more than your parents, be someone.” He looked at your lips and then back up into your eyes, as you remained quiet he pressed the gun even harder against your clothed clit. 

“M-my parents would be ash-ashamed of me.” He pressed it even harder “please.”

“Please what? You have to use your words doll.” He gave you a glinted smile- he enjoyed this immensely, what a sick man. “Maybe I can give your little boyfriend a call, have my men go after him and put a bullet in his fucking head. “ 

“You wanna be nothing, great, you already are.” He moved his gun from the right hand to the left and replaced the cold barrel of the pistol with his fingers; the warmth of them was warmly greeted with your involuntary moan. He moved the gun right under your chin- you wanted to cry again, your eyes were closed. He was capable of anything. Don’t cry in front of him, don’t do it.  

He started tracing circles on your clit and as you opened your mouth to breath out a moan, he pressed his lips to yours- tongue touching your upper lip. You were scared, so fucking scared, all you felt since meeting him was this- attraction and fear. All of it led to this moment, a breaking point he reached once he thought you were gonna leave him.

“Open your mouth” he was mere inches away from your lips, he moved the gun next to your body again, pressing into you “open.”- you obeyed. The size of him alone pressing into you was almost suffocating. 

You tried to kiss back- in all your shocked state, truly, you tried. His touches on the most sensitive part of your body were becoming erratic, too busy with the fact he was kissing you. He left your clit and started groping your breasts, almost painfully, you gave him a groan of pleasure mixed with the uncomfortable feeling of having a man his size shove himself over you, touching you anywhere he could get his hands on. 

“You talk about leaving me but you’re so fucking wet.” a trail of saliva connected your mouths “You wanted this.” This wasn’t how you thought the night would end, with your boss on top of you. “Still think I’m wrong?” He removed himself from on top of you and grabbed your arm- putting you in front of the mirror, with him behind you; gun still in his hand.

You saw him pull himself out of his pants and shuddered, maybe in fear and maybe in lust too, this big scary man. Almost crying just because you wanted to leave him, you’ve only known him for a few weeks. 

You were holding yourself up on your hands and as he pulled your panties to the side and slowly entered you, you saw him close his eyes in pleasure and then look back down at the way you took him.

He pressed the palm of his hand on your back; so you leaned forward even more, giving him an eyeful of you and him.

You almost felt like screaming when he buried himself so deep into you the next second, you’re pretty sure you did. What if one of the girls came in? You’re pretty sure Oz wouldn’t give less of a fuck about that right now. 

“Ow fucckk..” he looked up and back down again before setting a pace that made your knees almost give out, thank God you were holding yourself up. He grabbed one of your legs and put them on the sink so he could bury himself even deeper. 

When you felt something cold once again on your head you knew he had the gun pointed again at you; your blood ran cold. “You wanted to leave me..I own you.. I fucking own you” He smacked your bum so hard you knew it would leave a mark; with his eyebrows furrowed and a slight smile he asked you “Tell me, who owns you?” he wants to humiliate you, you thought you had a choice; that you could leave, you never had a choice; never will.

You felt like your cheeks would light on fire by the embarrassment you felt, either way, you had to obey him.

“Y-you” you shamefully lowered your head; closing your eyes, God it felt good to be fucked like this, minus the gun, on second thought, maybe with the gun was better. This was sick.

“Didn’t fucking hear you!” he roughly grabbed your hair and pulled you flush against him, with one hand he held the gun under your chin, with the other he grabbed your breast and fucked you against the sink. You didn’t know what to grab- so one of your hands instinctively grabbed the one he had against your boob- to pull him away if he grabbed you as hard as he did before and with the other-you held the one that had the gun. 

He pressed his nose against your cheek, “Who owns this pussy too, huh?” he kissed the side of your face, he wasn’t going to stop, was he?

Not only were you getting fucked by a man decades older, he practically could do whatever he wanted with you; kill you, fuck you, make you beg for him.

 “You do.” You hated saying this and loved it at the same time- the way he felt inside you, his big hands on you, the same hands that killed so many people without so much as a second thought- this was too much.

“Jesus…you’re fucking drenched.” He wasn’t lying, besides the muffled sounds of music from outside- the only sound in the room was the one your bodies made and the occasional groan from him and your moans, only you two could hear them- at least you hoped. 

“I’m gonna cum…tell me you want me to cum.. tell me you want it inside.” Goosebumps appeared on your skin and your thighs started shaking a little, either by the size of him or in anticipation, you didn’t know.

“I want it, please.” you told him, at this point his face was buried in your neck and his pace was losing momentum so you pushed yourself up against him; again and again.

 “Please what? Please what?!” he asked while fucking you

 “I want you to cum in-inside.” This whole ordeal, it got you so spent up you felt tears in your eyes; he shoved himself as deep as he could inside of you, pushing your body next to the sink until it was painful and you felt the way his cock was pulsing inside of you. 

“You’re not going anywhere.” he kissed you on your cheek. “You’re not going anywhere.” he whispered again. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's note: Dude you fucked your own criminal kingpin boss?

Hope you liked the story, have a good day xoxomxxoxoxo

[miller-n-morgan-2]

More Than Words

2. Questions

Logan Howlett x OC!Reader

Series Summary: Having lived for over two hundred years and never having the privilege of human touch is the biggest burden imaginable... until someone comes along with the healing ability to withstand the touch of death.

Chapter Warnings: still a lot for now but: mild language, canon typical violence, mention of murder, death, mutant experimentation, and a depressive episode briefly described. Logan is a warning, especially here

Chapter Summary: The bad dreams have ceased, but many questions lurk in their place, and the meaning behind those dreams is still one of them. In the middle of all the chaos, a few things will come to light.

Word Count: 8.4k

“Of everyone here, I didn’t expect you to be keeping a stash,” he sat down on the edge of your bed, facing your back as you were hunched over the desk, writing sloppily a few notes for tomorrow morning. “I asked Scott and Storm, they had nothin…”

You put your headset on this morning. You usually only used it to drown out everything else when you really needed to. Everyone has noticed except those who don’t know what it means. Those who do, remember the times in which you were at your lowest. Back then you were practically unable to function without the damn headphones over your ears. The last time you even remember wearing them was when you first started teaching here, all the noise and rapid energy being quieted by the music in your head.

 After last night, and the confessions made to Logan, he seemed to be open to hearing more from you then… but he kept you at arm’s reach now, and you couldn’t say you didn’t understand why. He’s not just been thrust into the middle of an age-old fight between friends, but he also is struggling with his identity. 

You did however learn something interesting after hearing chatter when you woke up. Logan and Scott aren't getting along. Why? Because Logan has been relentlessly flirting with Jean. You’d scoffed when you found out. Not because you don’t think Jean is worthy of such advances, but because he was basically shooting himself in the foot by even trying to take her from Scott. 

Jean is a rare bird, and a special person. Charles argues the same thing about everyone who sets foot on the property, but with her, it’s especially true. She’s smarter than most people you know, having gone to a college outside of the education given by Charles and the others. She even attended school alongside you for a while, although it only took you a few semesters to realize you weren’t cut out for the medical field like she was. You have to be able to touch your patients, after all.

She had a lot to offer, and anyone could see that. Even excluding her powers, which were enough to level a city on their own. She was kind, nurturing, and very strategic. All of those things combined with the looks of a super model made her one of the most desirable people in the entire mansion, so even though you and Logan made a connection, you don’t find it hard to see why he’s taken with her. 

It may bother you just a little, but you would never admit it to anyone who asked, not even Charles. 

All of this is not why you put on your headset, but it could be a contributing factor. 

You’ve just met Logan, or at least officially. It stands to reason that you shouldn’t have an inkling of feelings yet. You can’t imagine that would be how it goes. In any rational situation, you have to get to know him. That’s how relationships work.

You remember how it was with Charlie, how it took more than one night of talking late when everyone else was asleep. You got to know him, and got to see his kindness and compassionate heart. You’d seen who he truly was, and it warmed your heart and soul, despite not being able to touch him. You don’t know Logan yet, but you imagine he’s not as soft and kind, nor gentle or compassionate. He seems like sort of a lone wolf, and the type to push away everything except for what he’s got his eyes set on. You don’t even know if the connection you made was real, or if he was just looking for company…

He has nightmares, but you don’t know why. It’s only one relation, that’s all. Maybe he’d only asked you to stay because he was frightened of them, just like you are of yours.

You’d gone back to your room near the hours of sunrise, and fell back asleep before your alarm woke you, but you were still exhausted, and wondered if he was facing the same conundrum. It was only when you went to ask him about it that he became colder to you than the night before. He’d given a stiff answer and gone about his morning, which you were confused by, since he wasn’t a student, nor a teacher.

You passed him in the halls throughout the day, and nodded to him with a sweet smile. He doesn’t really return it, just kept walking. You think that maybe he just didn’t see you, or was on his way to do something else and couldn’t pay attention, but then at dinner he refuses to look at you, and you can’t for the life of you understand why. 

You decide to block him out, to deal with the more pressing matters. The school, the mutant rebellion, and Rogue, the newest recruit. 

She’s like you in a few ways, and you feel sorry for her. You hope that by passing on some stories that maybe she can find hope in her powers. They are a gift and a curse, but she holds them wonderfully well already.

You found her on the back balcony, overlooking the gardens. She’d been sitting alone for about an hour, but didn’t seem to be bothered, just enjoying the peace. You debated whether or not you should disrupt it, but the second she heard you behind her, she turned. 

You had been organizing things back where they go, following the mess of mutant children to try and keep the house in good shape, and now that you’d found yourself with her, you wanted to say a few things. You peeled your headset off and sat beside her, offering a smile first. Her energy felt stiff, like she’d been unwelcome where she was. 

“You settled in yet?” 

She shrugged, unsure of what to say. Even in a place full of people like her, she was an outsider. “I guess I’m getting there.”

It was silent for a moment, and you sensed her energy was low and draining. She must have been sad, or angry, or even flat our forlorn about her powers and the danger they hold. 

“Y’know, when I first found out about my powers, it was the worst day of my life,” you started, but quickly followed up, knowing the words were not inspiring. “They are a blessing and a curse, but for most of my life they were a curse… until the Professor found me. Now, I’ve learned to use them to help people. You can, too.”

It should have helped, but her feelings on the power she held didn’t waver, she just wanted to know what she was in for, and you knew better than anyone what she would face.

“Did you ever… hurt anyone?” she asked sincerely, turning to face you but managing the distance. Both your touches were lethal and dangerous.

“Yeah,” you sighed, looking out to the gardens and hoping that the serene ambience would keep you in a good state of mind. “Most of them were the people closest to me. Always an accident, but still a deadly one.”

“I’m sorry,” she dropped her head, unsure of herself now, too. She didn’t know how to control it, or even subdue it. It may not even be possible. 

“Don’t be sorry, it was a long time ago… I’m a lot more careful now.”

“They told me how old you were, how long you’ve been around…” she trailed, looking for a good way to ask such a terrible question. “How have you lived that long without being able to touch the people you love?” 

You understood why she was asking. Of course, she was concerned about her future, but also her present. She’s a runaway, who’s left her entire family because of her ability. She must be feeling the lonesomeness that all mutants inevitably face at one point in their lives.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, trying not to become emotional. You’ve loved many people in your lifetime, many people you’ve lost early, or at the right time, but you could never go with them. You can’t seem to die, but everyone else does when you need them the most. “I think that being here is really what saved me. Not only knowing there are others like me, but knowing I can have a family who doesn’t fear me, doesn’t judge me. Even knowing all the things I’ve done.”

“You didn’t do them on purpose, did you?” 

“No,” you shook your head. “But I’m still responsible for them, for the people I’ve killed.”

You’ve killed people. How many, she doesn’t know, but she feels as though you’re the only person that can understand her. That can understand being afraid of herself and what she can do to others. She knows that you’ve probably gone decades and decades just trying to learn how to be more careful, and that she’ll have to learn, too. 

“You said you’d hurt people you love… what happened?” 

This was a very soft spot for you. Even after a century, it was still an open wound. Something that would never fully heal, because there was no way to achieve closure over it. What’s lost is gone, and your powers were the cause.

“I was engaged once,” you dropped your gaze to your lap, looking at your hands and the way they were so well fitted with the green gloves. You practically never took them off. 

“Engaged?” 

“Yeah, engaged. I’d somehow managed to find the single man in the entire universe that didn’t require me to touch him to achieve his affection…” You trailed, trying not to go into detail. Searching for a small distraction, you fiddled with the hem of your sweater, pulling loose threads to ignore the sad memories. “I touched him by accident.”

“And he died?” She widened her eyes, both upset for you and becoming more afraid of herself. She doesn’t want to fall in love, not if she’s going to hurt that person eventually. 

“He did,” you wiped your hand over your eyes before any tears could even fall, and then let it rest back in your lap. “But you’re not gonna make the same mistake that I did, I promise. I’ll help you.”

“You will?” Her eagerness to accept the assistance was clear. “Thank you.”

“Of course… and don’t give up hope. There could be someone out there that can withstand your powers just as they are.” 

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to offer such things to her, but it seemed like the right thing to do.

Her brow furrowed, unsure if what you were saying was true. From your earlier words, you’ve been around a long time and it’s never happened for you. “Sounds impossible.”

“It’s not impossible,” you told her, standing up from beside her on the bench. “Nothing is impossible.”

You left her on that note, and went back inside. 

-

On your way up to bed, you caught Logan in the hallway. You gave a tight lipped smile on the way to your door, expecting him to be cold like he was throughout the day… but he fell into stride next to you, walking to his own door. 

“You guys got anything good to drink around here?” he asked, partially as a joke, but usually never going without a drink for more than a day was catching up to him. 

“This is a school, Logan,” you turned to him with a laugh and a light smile. Maybe he’d struck out with Jean and was off her coattails now. 

“Well I can see that, but I figured with a limited number of adults chasing after a million kids, someone’s gotta be drinking at the end of the day,” he leaned against his door frame, and you had completely turned to face him, neglecting your door knob which you had reached for originally. 

You huffed a sigh, shaking your head at him. You may or may not have a bottle of Jack hidden where no one can find it. If anyone in this hell hole had a reason to drink it was you, but you never did it in front of the kids, or nearly anyone else. You reckon Charles or Ororo would march up to you if they found out, voicing their concern. 

“Stay quiet, and don’t say a word about this to anyone…” You opened the door, letting him follow you in before closing it and locking the knob. “Under the bed, back right corner.”

You allowed him to go fishing for it himself, going to your desk in the corner to make sure you were caught up on everything and prepared for tomorrow’s history quiz before you settled in for the night. He’d already been ready for bed, seemingly just roaming the halls and looking for alcohol at this late hour. 

“Of everyone here, I didn’t expect you to be keeping a stash,” he sat down on the edge of your bed, facing your back as you were hunched over the desk, writing sloppily a few notes for tomorrow morning. “I asked Scott and Storm, they had nothin…”

“I surprised you, huh?” you ask, not even throwing a look over your shoulder. You may have an interest in this man, but since you started teaching here you were always efficient, and that wasn’t going to stop now. 

“Yeah, a little,” he chuckled, taking swigs straight from the bottle. It had been more than half full the last time you drank from it, so there was a decent amount. “You just seem like the innocent one.”

This made you drop what you were doing and spin your chair around. “Innocent?” 

He smirked at your furrowed brows, but having known of your mutation, he was willing to guess everything and even bet on it. “I believe that’s what I said.”

You tilted your head at him, the look on your face making him grin even more. 

“I don’t think I like that word,” you leaned back in your seat, crossing your arms over your chest and thinking of all the reasons why. “I’ve done and seen things that would be considered unfathomable to other people.”

“I don’t mean how dangerous you are, I mean how corrupted you are,” he kept on, another swig taken from the bottle. “And I think you’re innocent.”

“I still don’t like it,” you shook your head, laughing a little and reaching for the bottle, which he was all too happy to hand over, fingers brushing your gloved hands. “I prefer inexperienced.”

“Does it matter? It means the same thing,” he argued, watching you take a nice lengthy drink of the whiskey in your hand. 

“It does matter, actually,” you were all too happy to correct him. “Innocence implies that my mind is pure of corruption, but really, I’ve just never been able to do the things I’ve thought about.”

He rolled his eyes, taking back the bottle and trying to keep up with you. He pointed to your head with a swirling finger. “Yeah right, I’m sure you’re just all kinds of perverted up there.”

You just giggled and looked at him for a moment. He was funny, he was handsome, and he was clearly interested in your favorite choice of alcohol. Just more things to connect on, you supposed. Maybe feelings weren’t so far down the road, after all. 

You blinked out of it when you realized you’d been looking at his bare arms for too long, the beater he wore left little to the imagination as to how fit he was, and it was a nice view to take in, but not this late, and certainly not with a bottle of Jack. 

“I should be getting to bed soon, big test tomorrow…” you trailed, standing up and going to the door. It was late, no one else should be awake, but you still wanted to make sure. “You can take the whiskey for the road, if you want.”

“I’ll get you another one,” he returned, knowing that by the end of the night, the bottle was likely to be empty. He’d not had Jack Daniel’s in a while, so he was grateful for the favor. 

“No need,” you shook your head as he met you in the doorway, peering down and clearly shadowing you under his tall form. You had to take a breath and smile to break the tension you felt, as it was thick and heated. “I really should stop drinking here, anyway.”

“I’m happy to pick it up in your place,” he smirked, still standing right in front of you. If anyone had stepped out of their room, they’d see how close he was looming. 

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” You asked hopefully, knowing full well that he could respond with an empty promise, and still be cold to you as he was today. 

“Yeah, I’ll see you.” 

And he left without another word.

-

You awoke in the middle of the night to chaos in the hallway. You were surprised not to be plagued with nightmares for once, but the screams of your next door neighbor didn’t exactly settle you back into your pillows. You heard footsteps outside your door, and when you sat up, Ororo opened the door without knocking, the urgency of whatever situation that had happened started to set in. 

“There’s been an accident,” she looked to you with an expression of fear and shock, leaving the doorway as soon as she could see you were scrambling to your feet.

You could feel the energy, it was all over the place. Kids were scared, and so were some of the adults, Ororo being one of them. You ran into the room, avoiding the touch of everyone you passed by, and stared at the scene playing out. 

“What happened?” you rushed over to where Jean and Scott were hovering over Logan, his unconscious body thrown over the bed and seemingly in a state of paralysis. 

“Rogue, she touched him,” Jean was working the best she could to try and keep him from death’s door, but even with her skilled hands, she looked afraid. “He’s fading quickly, she may have drained too much of his regeneration.”

You tried to think quickly on your feet. She drained his regenerative energy, but you could restore it. The manipulation of energy was clearly something you were all too familiar with, but you were afraid if his regeneration was too low that he might die from your mutation. 

If he’s already going to die, you’re going to do the only thing you know how to try and save him. 

“Jean, move,” you reach for him, and she practically dives out of the way of your bare hands. 

“You’ll kill him!”

“Just trust me,” you said, your hands finding his shoulders. You heard gasps behind you when your skin met his, and they all started whispering, assuming that if he wasn’t dead before, he definitely was now. 

You focused your energy on him, using what was inside of you and around you to build back up what had been inside of him. His mutation, his strength and endurance, and most of all, his healing capability. 

“Alice, he’s dead,” Scott nearly scolded you, shaking his head. He wasn’t fond of the man, but that didn’t mean he wished him to die… and now he had, by your hand or Rogue he wasn’t sure. “What did you do?” 

You ignored him, and all the ones whispering behind you. You could feel his life force, like a branch in the air around you, reaching out just the smallest bit, but not strong enough to hold growth yet. You were slowly building it, letting it stretch out until his own body could take it from there. 

When he took a sharp inhale of breath and his chest started to rise and fall again, everyone nearly fell over out of shock. No one said a word yet, because they were too stunned to speak. 

Logan was still in bad condition, but you trusted that his healing could help him out from here. You pulled him onto your lap, head resting against your body as you felt for a steady pulse, and saw the color returning to his hands and arms. 

“I got you,” you whispered, holding him close. This was the first person that you’d ever been able to save with your touch, as before, it killed everyone who came across it.

“Alice?” Jean called from behind your shoulder, her mouth still agape and her eyes wide. “Alice!”

You looked to her, only slightly fearful that she may tell Charles about this, and then you’ll be in for an earful. He was the hand that guided you along the terrible pathways of your life, but he was also the one who reprimanded you when need be. 

“He’s alright,” you promised her, but she still didn’t come closer. Scott however, was completely baffled and had a million questions. 

“How did you do that? You can’t touch anyone-”

“I can touch him,” you answered shortly, your arms still wrapped tight around his limp form. “Just him.”

Jean shook her head and snapped out of her train of thought. There was too much to be asked, but this was not the time for it. Logan still needed more treatment, despite the help you gave. You stood up to accommodate her, keeping your eyes on Logan and making sure he was still okay. You could feel his energy restacking, like building blocks in the air around you. 

“Start talking,” Scott pressed, the urgent situation now overshadowed by a need for answers. Ororo joined Scott in front of you, her expression holding more than just shock at this point. She looked nearly excited, but you couldn’t say why. 

“I know him,” you said, trying to start slowly, but knowing the two of them, it wouldn;t be good enough. “When Striker had us, he got Logan, too. He doesn’t remember it, but he saved my life… yours too, Scott.”

“That…” he trailed, shaking his head. He’d done the same thing that you’d done. He blocked it out of his memory. That didn’t mean that it didn’t happen. You just had a better reason to remember it. “That can’t be possible… he’s touched you before?” 

“He practically dragged me out of that cell,” you told him, and he recalled the day of the mutant prison break. He remembers a man helping them, but never imagined it could have been Logan. 

“How is it possible? I’ve seen you drop some of the most powerful mutants where they stand, no one survives being touched by you,” Ororo was the one to pitch in this time, her question not so much one of what, but how?

“His regenerative ability. The way Charles used to explain my powers to me, he said to think of my skin like a radioactive energy poison. When such a poison is absorbed into one’s body it can cause it to shut down. My powers work the same way, just a thousand times stronger and faster. The thing is,” you pointed behind you, where Logan was slowly gaining small bits of health. “His regen mutation never allows my energy to be absorbed… I can’t kill him.”

“Scott?” Jean called from the ground, trying and failing to lift Logan on her own. “Gonna need a little help here. I need him in the med bay.”

Scott shook off the conversation, focusing on the matter at hand. 

When Jean and Scott got Logan through the crowd of kids, they all dispersed back to their rooms. The only two remaining were you and Ororo. 

She stared at you for a moment, wondering if you were going to leave, but then watched as you shuffled around in Logan’s things, looking for what you leant to him. You were hoping by some miracle that there would be some left. 

“Aha,” you let out, grabbing the bottle from inside the dresser drawer, unscrewing the cap and taking a swig. There wasn’t much, but there was enough to ease your mind at this late hour. “Want some?” 

“You really think this is a good time to be drinking?” she scoffed, crossing her arms and watching you fall back onto the foot of his bed. 

“I think it’s the perfect time to be drinking,” you held it out to her, wondering if she’d actually take it. 

She tried to keep her adult habits outside of the school, but these were tumultuous times, and she supposed it wouldn’t hurt to allow it under the circumstances. 

Out of the silence, she turned to you, right as you took your next slow gulp of the smooth liquor. 

“So,” her pause and sigh were unneeded. You knew what she was about to be getting on about. “You can touch him…”

“Yep,” you looked at her, a thin lipped smile on your face. You really didn’t have much else to say, but she did. 

“I know you never got over Charlie,” she spoke gently, not wanting to pinch a nerve, or bring up bitterness in a moment like this. The calm after the storm, no pun intended. “But maybe this is your chance…”

“A chance to what?” 

“You know what I’m talking about,” she leaned into your eyeline, still careful to stray from any of your exposed skin. 

“Yeah,” you muttered, “I know.” And then with the last swig in the bottle, you felt the warmth of the drink, and the tiniest bit of a buzz. “I don’t think Logan’s that kinda guy.”

“You don’t think he’d commit to a relationship?” 

“I don’t think he’d commit to me,” you corrected, shrugging your shoulders. You wished you had more to drink after that revelation, but unfortunately, this empty bottle contained the only bit of alcohol on the entire property. 

“He seems loyal, maybe you just need to know him better,” she encouraged, bumping her clothed shoulder with yours. Always a kind gesture, one of friendship and to show she held no fear of you like others did. 

“He doesn’t even know himself,” you chuckled a little. It may have been a bit of a mean joke to make, because you can’t even imagine how hard it is for him, but still you laugh, because you know him better than he does. “I know who he was that day.”

“When he saved you?” 

“Yeah, saved everyone,” you dropped your head, focusing on your hands and trying to keep your mind from falling down any bunny trails. “He was a hero. I think he still might be.”

“You should tell him that.”

“I did,” you chuckled, tossing the whiskey bottle back into the soft pillows of the bed to rid your hands of it. “He didn’t believe a word I was telling him…”

She sighed, knowing that with your stubbornness, and your fear of hurting people, you may opt to keep him at arms length, regardless of his ability to touch you. She knew about Charlie, and what you did to him. She knew you’d sworn off love since that day, over a hundred years ago… but she still had hope that this could turn into a part of your happiness. 

“Don’t give up on him so fast, alright?” She asked, her eyes turning to that of a puppy dog, pulling at your heart and nearly making you comply. 

“I won’t.”

-

Rogue went missing the next day, and while you’d been chomping at the bit to find her, you were unfortunately called to the office of the professor. You wondered if you were in for a stern talking to after the previous night’s events. 

“Take a seat,” he began, staring out the open window at the setting sun, and the children on property who were playing in the grass before dark. 

You did as you were told, not because you wanted to, but because you respected Charles enough to listen to whatever diatribe he was about to drone on. 

“I’ve had quite a few people visit my office today on your account,” he turned his chair around, his face not one of disappointment like you thought it would be. He didn’t look upset at all, nor did he look like he was going to reprimand you for being careless with your abilities. “I must say, I was surprised to hear of what happened.”

“I know it was careless of me,” you defended, unknowing if it was even necessary, but wanting to cover your bases, anyways. “But I can explain.”

“There’s no need to put up an argument, my dear.”

“There’s not?” 

He chuckled and shook his head, a small smile spreading over his cheeks. “Not at all. In fact, I’m actually quite happy for you.”

“Happy for me?” you asked another question, the reasoning for your visit becoming more unclear. 

“I know how long you’ve suffered,” he sighed, his tone returning to something more serious. “I have felt your anger and bitterness towards your abilities. I’ve sensed your hatred of them for years.”

“That was before,” you tried to interject, to tell him how thankful you were for his training. “But you taught me they were not just a curse, but also a blessing.”

“And do you really think I believe you when you say it? Miss Beckett, I’ve known you more than half my life… I can read your mind without entering it by now.”

You knew that if anyone could understand you it was him. You could feel other’s energy, but when he entered someone’s mind he could feel that and so much more. He could feel emotions, think that person’s thoughts, and even see what they see. 

“You knew all this time, then?” 

“I did,” he nodded, but didn’t stop there. “I knew that no matter what I did, it wouldn’t change your burdens.”

You ducked your head, thinking back to the times you’d lied, telling everyone that things were better. Truthfully, as a person you felt less alone, less hated and less dangerous… but you never felt loved. You couldn’t. No one could, or wanted to touch you, knowing your mutation.

“Scott told me about Logan, how you’d all met once before,” he said, turning the conversation back around to that of a better note. “When you’d repressed the memories of what Agent Striker had done, you’d forgotten him… but you didn’t forget what he did for you, and you didn’t forget a special detail.”

“He touched me,” you filled in the blank, waiting for him to continue. 

“Precisely.”

“I think…” you trailed, unsure of where this chat was going to lead. If Ororo had come to him, you were sure the thoughts exchanged the night before had come up, even if it was just meant to help you. “I think he may have feelings for… someone else.”

Charles nodded, he’d not purposely looked into Logan’s mind, but when Jean was stirring restlessly in the late evening, he took a peek inside hers, seeing the struggle to combat Logan and his advances.

“I understand,” he responded, but thought it was worth mentioning what he knew. “But his advances are pointless.”

“I still don’t want to get my hopes up,” you reasoned, a good point to be made considering his behavior towards you. “I’m getting too old for shit like this, you know?”

His understanding went without saying, he remembers your past, and knows of the only person you ever truly loved. It was a story for the ages with a tragic ending that would even make the bravest of men shed a tear. 

“Of course.”

You waited for him to dismiss you, and when he nodded to you in finality, you stood up from your seat. 

“Stay open minded, my dear, you don’t know where your path may lead.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, giving him a smile as you left the room. 

“Thank you, Charles.”

First Ororo, and now Charles. Your biggest cheerleaders since they met you… you love them both, and want to listen to them, but you are older therefore wiser, and must protect yourself from things that aren’t good for you. Everyday you grow older but your face and body stay the same. Your mentality weakens when you realize you’ve still got so much life to live, and it burdens you more when you struggle to live it alone. Having someone by your side would be the answer to your every prayer, the reason you could keep going. But you know you can’t endure another heartbreak, you won’t survive it. 

-

It’s been days, nearly a week. Your mind is frazzled, and you think that maybe it’s time for a break. A quiet time to let your mind rest and restore itself. 

So much has happened, and you can’t put your finger on what was the most stressful part of it all. The quickness, the escalation, the chaos… or what it almost cost you. 

Erik is temporarily defeated, but you know he’ll keep at it in the future. There were several mutants in his gathering that were unapprehended after the final battle. It will make for an interesting hunt that the X-men get to pursue.

One of which you wouldn't mind letting go about her business for a while. You knew Mystique when she went by Raven. 

So much has changed since then, and you've changed with the time gone by.

There's still something on your mind after everything that's happened this week, and of course that something is Logan. His past, his present, and what he wants to do with his future. 

He’s an X-man now, a part of the team and a member of the mutant family… but he searches for who he is, and you can sympathize with that, especially because of what he did for you. He didn’t just do it for you, but with the state you were in, he could have passed your cell, given up on you. Instead, he practically carried you out of that prison, never knowing how lethal your touch was. He saved you and gave you the greatest gift you’d received. Hope. A fresh start. The thought that life didn’t have to be such a burden. 

The kids were settled in early this evening, after the late night that was pulled the day prior, they needed to catch up on their rest… but Logan was having a hard time sleeping. You were, too. 

It was about eleven when he came knocking on the door, softly so nobody else would hear him. Ororo was behind the door next over from yours, her light on beneath the slit in that door, and he mentally kicked himself for even doing this at all, so late at night. 

When you cracked open your own door, peeking through to see who it was, you were surprised at the man standing in the doorway. 

“Logan? What are you doing up? It’s late…”

“Yeah, I know,” he whispered, just above the level you were speaking at, voice barely audible. “I wanted to talk to you.”

You were unsure of what there was to talk about, really. It had been radio silence since the mission, and you figured he wanted some space after something like that… it wasn’t unusual for an X-man, but you didn’t know him as well, so you didn’t know what you were supposed to expect. 

“Can I come in?” he asked, and it was only now that you realized you’d been frozen in your spot, a furrowed brow worn on your face. 

“Yeah, sorry.”

You closed the door behind him when he passed through, going back to your bed to sit down. He followed suit, and it was nearly a reverse image of the first night he arrived. 

“I wanted to thank you,” he cleared his throat, trying to sound grateful. “For saving my life. Jean told me what you did.”

You smiled a little and scoffed, shaking your head and waving him off. “Don’t thank me… I actually endangered your life.”

“I’m still here, aren’t I? Whatever you did, it saved me.”

“I had no idea that it would, it could have gone either way,” you argued, not for the sake of being right, but because you didn’t want him to think you’d done something extraordinary or heroic. You were actually being quite selfish in your actions. 

“You like to argue a lot, huh?” he teased, remembering the last one on one conversation you both had. You would admit, you didn’t like being wrong. You’d gotten it in your head that after being alive for so long, you ought to know more than everyone. 

“Well, I am a lawyer,” you shrugged, a slight smirk on your face. You’d never practiced in a firm, or even got a law related job, but you liked to remind people of it here and there, it was always entertaining. 

“I noticed that certificate on your wall the other night, noticed em’ all, actually…” he trailed, throwing a glance over his shoulder to check and make sure they were all still there. He’d come to the conclusion that you were intelligent the first time you met, your dialect being very formal for the age he thought you were… but above that, you carried yourself in a way that spoke to being knowledgeable. 

“Oh, those?” you laughed, tilting your head and making a silly face in their direction. “Those are nothing, just reminders of all the times I’ve been bored.”

“Bored? You’re kidding me,” he mused, crossing his arms and chuckling. 

“Maybe I also wanted to better myself a little,” you answered truthfully, rolling your eyes after getting it out. He didn’t seem like the scholarly type. Not a bad thing by any means, but you were sure his abilities far accelerated him in other occupations before he ended up here.

“Well whatever the reason, you’ve clearly done good,” he complimented, and you were certainly not complaining. Getting compliments from your friends, from your mutant family, it uplifted you… but getting a compliment from him? It felt different, more weighted. “And whatever you did to save me, that was good too.”

“I didn’t even know it would work,” you huffed, looking down at your hands. You hadn’t touched him since he came in, and you weren’t sure if it was because you were doing so purposely, or if you just hadn’t gotten the opportunity. “I honestly thought I might kill you faster…”

“Then why would you have tried it?” He couldn’t believe you. A smart girl like you, with the power you held? It seemed out of character to make a decision like that.

“Honestly?” you raised your brows, thinking of a sentence that didn’t sound weird, or selfish. “I was scared you were gonna die before I could know you.”

He tilted his head slightly in confusion. “You want to know me?” 

“I do,” you nodded with a sheepish smile. Thank God for the darkness in the room, because you’re sure your face is turning red. “I mean, it’s not everyday that I meet someone I can shake hands with, so…”

He laughed a little, reaching out playfully for a handshake. You smiled wide, taking his hand and giving it a nice firm shake. You’ve shaken hands when wearing gloves, but it’s just not the same. You’ve touched others while wearing them, too. But the skin contact you’ve always been deprived of, it’s something that sends chills down your spine, no matter how simple the gesture is. Even just a handshake. 

“I’d like you to know me too, but there’s just one problem with that,” he sighs, shaking his head in a bit of something akin to sadness. “I don’t know me.”

You can’t stand to see that look on his face. His hand was still wrapped around yours, now resting on his knee and near your lap. An idea springs to your mind, and though it’s a terrible one, you think about all the good it could produce in the long run. 

“What if I could help you remember?” You suggested, grabbing his attention almost immediately. “You’ve said you don’t remember anything past fifteen years ago… that’s when you saved me from Striker.”

“You think you could help me?” 

“I can try, I owe it to you.” Your reasoning made him turn the idea over in his head, but he wasn’t sure of how you planned to help him, exactly. “Something must have happened that day to make you forget… we can go back to the base, look for answers, see if anything triggers your memories?” 

It was a bold move, but you had to take it. No matter what happened the other night, you still owe him your life, and this could be a way to even the playing field. 

“You’d take me there?” he asked sincerely, a bit surprised that you would even offer, considering what he knew of your time in that prison. You shouldn’t want to return at all, but what’s worse is you want to do it for him. 

“I would… If you want me to.” 

He grinned, his look of bewilderment still laced in. “I would be grateful, if you could.”

“It’s settled then.”

He nodded to you, and you both gave a glance to the door. It was time to say goodnight, though you wanted him to stay and talk till sunrise. You had so many questions, about him, about his life since Striker, and even about his abilities… but it would have to wait till another time. 

He got up, and you followed, getting to the door before you heard voices outside of it. 

“It’s Ororo,” you sighed, turning to him and huffing. “I don’t know who she’s talking to…”

“I better not let her see me sneaking around this late,” he said, looking back at you with a comical expression. “I have a feeling that she’ll tattle on me.”

“You’re right, she would.” You stood with your ear to the door, hearing that the other voice in the hall was Jean. They were talking about you, and you figured it was not a good time to let the Wolverine go traipsing out of your room. “You know, you don’t have to go… if you don’t want to. You could just stay here tonight.”

His smirk held a bout of confidence before he spoke, “You sure I’m not crowding your space?” 

“I’ve got plenty of room,” You nodded to the queen bed you’d stood up from. In all truthfulness, it was a big bed to sleep in alone, and you’d been forced to for over a decade. “You also just happen to be the only person who wouldn’t die if I accidentally kicked you in the middle of the night.”

He laughed, nodding his head. He didn’t want to leave in the first place, he just felt like maybe he’d been imposing. Tough luck on that, because if you had your way, he’d stay longer than just the night. 

“With an argument like that, how can I say no?” 

“I might not sleep for a while, though… so if you wanna turn in, be my guest,” you sat back on the bed, shoving your walkman with the headphones to your side so he could settle in next to you. 

“Couldn’t really sleep already, that's why I came here in the first place.” He started eyeballing the walkman, scooting in closer to where you sat, legs crossed and back against your pillows and headboard. “You got music?” 

“Oh, uh… yeah, just a little mixtape I’ve been listening to.” 

You’d just rewound the tape earlier, and almost put it over your ears when you found you couldn’t sleep. Maybe it would have settled the noise in your brain… but Logan seemed to do a pretty good job of that, too.

“May I?” He gently reached for the set, and your heart stuttered in beat when you saw the sweet look in his eyes.

“Yeah, of course,” You handed it over with a smile, no hesitation, even though this new mixtape was built primarily on the feelings for him you’d been fighting. “It’s mostly just girl stuff…”

He put the headphones on and started listening, and you felt a bit awkward just watching him listen to the music, unsure if he would piece anything together or not. 

The first song played was Fields of Gold by Sting… just a soft ballad that made you think of what life might be like if things were different. 

By the second song, you pulled the plug of the headphones, letting the music play softly through the speaker instead so you could both hear it. It felt much better when you could listen to the music yourself. Music always calmed you down, made you feel more at ease.

You helped him fast forward through some of the songs he seemed bored during, but he stopped you on a few, nodding his head and smiling as the music filled his ears. 

“You like this one?” You asked, watching him start tapping his fingers to the song I Was Made For Lovin’ You by Kiss.

“This is my kinda music, right here,” he laughed, letting loose a little, breaking down his tough exterior just slightly so you could see the softness lurking behind. 

The noise from outside your door had long gone, but Logan didn’t seem eager to leave whatsoever… you did after all invite him to stay. 

When the song Wicked Game came on, you opted to skip it, and he grabbed the tips of your fingers to pull your hand away and ask why. The intro kept playing, the somber guitar filling the air between you. 

“It’s a sad song, kinda haunting,” you explained, but the real reason you were trying to skip it was because you’d rewound this one a bit too much when thinking about him, the lyrics seeming to match up to every time you looked at him the way you were now. “It’s not as fun as the others.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he said, taking the walkman and holding it so that you couldn’t skip the song yet. 

World was on fire, and no one could save me but you

Strange what desire will make foolish people do

You looked up at him and he seemed to really be into the music, but his brow was furrowed, like he was thinking about it in real time. 

I never dreamed that I’d meet somebody like you

You had to look away from him for a moment, your face turning red and your eyes falling to your lap.

And I never dreamed that I’d lose somebody like you

No, I don’t wanna fall in love

No, I don’t wanna fall in love… with you

You took a glance back up, seeing his face and the way it seemed to turn almost upset by the lyrics. You almost thought about reaching for the walkman, but his death grip on it looked too strong to break. 

“The next one is pretty good,” you smiled, trying to lighten the mood. He broke out of his trance and nodded, handing the device back to you. 

The smooth and laid back energy returned to the room, and you could feel the peace of it engulfing you as you absorbed the energy from the air. It fed you, made you stronger, happier. 

You couldn’t even help yourself by the time it got to the end of the playlist, the last song making you quietly sing aloud in front of someone you barely know… which was strange considering you wouldn’t even sing in front of your dearest and closest friends. 

The song just did that to you… it used to remind you of a love you once lost, but because of the lyrics, you were starting to associate the beautiful melody with another face. The one looking back at you with a small lip tug of a smile. 

The song in question? More Than Words by Extreme. 

You didn’t look at him when you sang it, because you were already falling too hard, too fast. You needed to slow down… but just thinking about the lyrics… 

More than words, is all you have to do to make it real

Touching someone for the first time is more than words can express… sitting side by side with someone without fear of hurting them means more than words could possibly say.

When the song ended you stopped the tape, setting it to rewind and putting it over on your bedside table. 

“Not bad… that last one, I’ve heard it a few times somewhere else. It’s pretty good.”

“Yeah, I like it better than the others,” you said jokingly, as if he couldn’t already tell by how easily the words came out of your mouth. “Saved the best for last, right?” 

“I’d say so,” he wouldn’t look anywhere else but you, and you felt so powerless under his stare. You were folding in record time, and honestly at this point, you’d count it as a miracle if you made it out of this night without ruining it all.

“You tired yet?” you asked, changing the subject and pulling back your sheets. 

“I’m getting there…” 

His soft and pretty hazel eyes were starting to make you wish you’d not invited him. He was making this difficult. You wanted to know him, and not just physically. There would be time for that, but you had to wait and make sure he was the one.  You weren’t willing to let yourself love him to the ends of the earth if you weren’t going to be able to keep him. It would just haunt you for the rest of your long and burdened life.

“Me too, but uh… I’m gonna try and finish my book,” you smiled, reaching for the novel on your bedside table. Fahrenheit 451. “So, just turn in whenever you’re tired.”

He debated asking you about the book, but ultimately decided that he’d bothered you enough for one night. It seemed like something he might research himself, if it was something you like. You obviously have good taste in music, maybe he ought to give reading the same books as you a try. 

He’d never admit it, because it wasn’t like him to do such a thing, but he liked being around you. Liked touching you. The energy you gave off was pleasant, and every time your skin connected, he absorbed a little bit of it from you. Something that would kill anyone else, he got to experience first hand. 

He smiled and lied down, giving a glance over his shoulder before he settled in. Your bed was warmer than his, more comfortable, too. “G’night, Alice.”

Your grin compared to his was like a young schoolgirl, completely and utterly lovestruck for the boy you met last week. 

“Night, Logan.”

Tags: @ayamenimthiriel @levislegislation @reidsworld @melsunshine @clairealeehelsing

[perfectlyoongi]

SUGAR-DADDY!JIMIN who always finds an excuse to see you. he knew he could text you and you’d show up quickly – that was your dynamic. but Jimin also liked to surprise you every now and then. so, when you were too focused on your life to remember him, Jimin would show up at your house with a new outfit for you to wear to a surprise dinner; or Jimin would show up at your work with a bouquet of flowers wanting to decorate your professional space; or Jimin would even show up at the restaurant door after you went to dinner with your friends offering you a ride home. it didn’t matter, honestly, Jimin had no limit when it came to coming up with excuses to see you. he lives next to a market but he went to your house to ask you for eggs? those are small details. what do you mean he had already delivered lunch to you today? are you sure it wasn’t the elf? “i heard that the electricity went out in this part of the city. i came to see if you need anything? maybe take you out for a quick dinner? what do you say?”

SUGAR-DADDY!JIMIN who always asks you where you want to travel. When you started your relationship, Jimin offered you a white map of the world and said he wanted to color it with you. as such, whenever there was a possibility of a trip out of town, Jimin would ask in advance where you wanted to go. he was determined to go see the world with you, eager to leave traces of your caresses in so many different cities. whether it was right next door or it took almost a day to get there, Jimin made a point of not only making your dream of visiting the place come true, but he would also do everything he could to make your trip nothing but pleasant. Jimin just wanted to offer you the best because you simply deserved the best. “where do you want to go next week? we have four days to enjoy. wherever you want to go, whatever you want to do, just tell me and i will make all your dreams come true.”

SUGAR-DADDY!JIMIN who welcomes you when your day gets more complicated. stroking your hair and humming a soft melody, Jimin did everything to make your day better. he kept you in his arms for as long as you needed, making sure the outside world was far away from you. those moments were just for you and Jimin – all of reality could wait for you. tender kisses were placed on your skin when you felt most tired, guiding you into an ethereal relaxation while Jimin made sure his name didn’t leave your lips. when life became heavier than you could carry, Jimin let you rest in his arms, because he, better than anyone, knows how to make you forget all your worries – he just had to love you.

SUGAR-DADDY!JIMIN who likes to gift you necklaces and always want to be the one putting them on you. there was a certain intimacy in the way you held your hair up while Jimin hovered his fingers around your neck. there was a certain complicity in that eternal wait that Jimin created in the mere seconds between your ‘thank you’ and his ‘you are divine’. you could even say that there was a certain love when Jimin finished fastening your necklace and gently kissed your neck, sliding his hands to hold you and pull you closer to him, always closer to him. “your ‘thank you’ is sweet, but I think we both have another form of thanks in mind. isn’t it right, pet?”

SUGAR-DADDY!JIMIN who always wants you by his side at his parties. during all the parties, even though Jimin had to pay attention to everything that surrounded you, you never felt alone. one way or another, Jimin always had you close to him and was always looking out for you. when the buzz of conversations settled you in the room, Jimin would gently hold your fingertips as he greeted person after person; when there was a break in your socializing, Jimin made a point of gently pulling you by the hand and, with a smile on his lips and a sparkle in his eyes, he focused all his attention on you. Jimin only felt capable of facing everything and everyone when you were by his side – that was why he insisted on your presence at these parties, that was why he dressed you for these parties, that was why you were essential at these parties. without you, all of Jimin’s courage and joy were suddenly stolen and there was no one who could give them back. just you – the most special person to him, the only person he really wanted by his side. “I can ask the intern to do that work for you. if you want, i’ll even do it myself tomorrow! but please come to the party with me today. i really need you. please.”

SUGAR-DADDY!JIMIN who takes you to all the concerts you want to see. a metal band or a symphony orchestra; a group of girls or a sibling duet; as many as there were, as many as you wanted. there was no concert that you missed. during the adrenaline of loud music and the joy in your heart, going to all the concerts you liked was something very special to you. the music was something intense, deep, an escape that you constantly used in this rotten reality; as such, seeing your favorite artists live, even having the chance to meet some of them, everything Jimin could do for you just made you grateful that you still lived in this world. you loved music and Jimin loved you – it was a fair deal for both of us. “have you seen this summer’s catalogue? i haven’t had time to look closely yet, but i think that singer you like, the… well, it doesn’t matter. that singer will be here in july. go you want to go see her?”

SUGAR-DADDY!JIMIN who slowly dances with you in the moonlight. Jimin’s hands rested on your hips as you wrapped your arms around his neck. your foreheads were together in a small, tender gesture that, in a way, seemed to broaden your smiles. and there, in front of the window, in front of the full moon, you and Jimin lived each second. there was no work or studies. there were no friends or family. there was nothing – just you and Jimin. the silence of that moment was as loud as your hearts, filling Jimin’s room with this invisible flame that made you feel warm inside. in front of the moon, stripped of all reality and embraced by mystical celestial magic, you and Jimin didn’t need to speak when your bodies swayed to the sound of the void, knowing perfectly well that it was within you that the music sounded.

[achilles-rage]

Helpless

summary: you keep seeing eddie die in your dreams, and when you wake up in the middle of the night at his house in tears, you run. eddie chases you down, desperate to comfort you and make you feel better.

word count: 3.4k

request: anon- can you please do an Eddie Diaz fic where reader has a nightmare where Eddie dies in front of her and when she wakes up she runs and Eddie chase her and finds her crying in an alleyway and he comforts her.

a/n: this was kinda fun to write. y’all really like making eddie go through it in requests, just like the 911 producers<33 enjoy!

warnings: descriptions of violence (eddie getting shot), no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

You weren’t there when Eddie was shot; he was working, and you were helping your friend move, so your phone was off. You’ve heard the story so many times, however, that you can picture all of it in your head. The deafening sound of the gunshot, the way Eddie collapsed, the way his blood spilled onto the road under him as his breathing became ragged.

That day was the reason you’re dating now. After he woke up in the hospital, you couldn’t hold back your feelings; you had gotten caught up in the moment and pressed your lips to his before you could even think. 

You were both surprised, of course, but Eddie was quick to reassure you that he’d been waiting months to do that, and he was sort of glad that you had done it before he was able to talk himself out of it, again.

It’s been months since that day, yet everything still feels fresh in your mind, especially when you go to bed at night beside him. His resistance to sleeping in a shirt means that you can see his wound; that you can feel it when you run your hands up and down his chest and shoulders.

You sometimes wake up in tears in the middle of the night, Eddie’s lifeless eyes burning holes in your brain as you try to slow your racing heart. It’s been happening more frequently, though, and you’re not sure why. Nothing bad has happened since then; nothing too traumatic, anyway.

You’ve been putting off spending the night at Eddie’s for that reason. You don’t want to wake him up in the middle of the night and force him to relive that trauma while at the same time trying to calm you down. You weren’t even there, for God's sake. It’s been getting harder to say no, though, and he’s beginning to get suspicious at your less than believable excuses.

First, it was that you had an early workout class with your friend, and you didn’t want to be up too late. Then, it was that you were pet sitting for a friend, and the only reason that went over well is because you begged your neighbour to borrow their cat for a little while because Christopher begged you and Eddie to come meet her. 

Eddie had finally noticed something was up when you told him that you couldn’t spend the night at his place because you had to do your laundry. He had seen you do your laundry two days ago, and while he doesn’t bring that up, he puts on the best puppy dog eyes he can muster, wrapping his arms around your plush middle and pulling you flush against him.

When he whispered a soft “please” in your ear, you couldn’t help but agree. You just hope that tonight goes by peacefully, and you don’t have to relieve one of your worst fears yet again.

Now, you’re at Eddie’s house, chest heaving and clothes scattered around the floor of the living room as you try to take advantage of the fact that Christopher is at his Abuela’s for the night. Eddie looks up at you straddling his lap, giving you a dazed smile as you both come down from your highs, and you lean in to give him a gentle kiss, your hands on his cheeks.

When you pull back, your hands move from his cheeks to his shoulders, then slowly drag down his chest. Your fingers dance across his scar, and you swallow, trying to keep your expression relaxed and happy as your gaze follows the path of your hands.

“It’s getting pretty late. I’ve gotta pick up Chris early for school tomorrow, you wanna come?” he asks when you both have caught your breath, although you’re still straddling his lap.

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss it.” you tell him, and he smiles, pulling you in for one last kiss before he taps your hip twice, signaling you to stand. 

You get off of him and your eyes watch his movements as he stands up, and when he holds his hand out for you, you take it immediately.

“Shower then bed?” he asks, and you take a second to respond with a nod, forcing a smile onto your face. You’re dreading going to sleep, but you know you can’t put it off forever. That doesn’t mean you won’t try, though.

When you’re both in the shower, the steam filling the room and the hot water is hitting your back, you pull Eddie into a rough kiss. Your arms wrap around his neck as you push your naked bodies together, and he groans softly, hands immediately going to your wide hips. You figure that this could help; either it would make him want to stay up later, or maybe you’d be tired enough to not have any dreams. You’re not exactly sure that’s how dreams work, but you figure it’s worth a shot. 

He loves how you feel against him, and he kisses you back with equal fervor. When his tongue slips past your lips, you think it’s a good sign, but when he pulls back after a moment or two, you let out a soft whine.

“Mi amor, I love you, but I think you wore me out earlier.” he jokes softly, and you can’t help but smile at the way the corner of his eyes scrunch up as he smiles down at you. You lean up and give him one more peck, before you drop your hands and step back under the stream of water.

“It was worth a shot.” you tease back, giving him a wink before you tilt your head back and close your eyes. You let out a content sigh as the hot water hits your back, and although you can’t see him, you hope that he’s at least rethinking your suggestion.

You open your eyes when you feel his hands on you, feeling your cheeks grow hot as his large hands begin to spread body wash across your skin. His eyes follow the path of his hands, admiring your soft curves and stretch marks and freckles as he washes your body, and he can feel himself growing tired as the relaxing atmosphere consumes him. 

When he’s finished, he lets you wash off the suds, and then you grab his body wash and return the favour. You start out innocently, hands ghosting over his chest, and torso, and back as you wash the day off of his skin. Your hands begin to wander soon, though, and he raises a brow, giving you a warning look.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” he teases, and you give him a sheepish smile as your gaze moves up to meet his.

“I don’t know what you mean.” you tell him with a shrug. He chuckles softly, rolling his eyes before he leans down to kiss your forehead.

“We’ve gotta get up early, baby. I don’t want you to be cranky tomorrow.” he tells you in a fake stern tone, although the hint of a smile on his lips tells you otherwise.

“That was one time, and I had every reason to be cranky that morning.” you tell him with a scoff, rolling your eyes in response to his eye roll.

“Keep telling yourself that.” he muses, watching as you finish washing his body with a smile. When you’re done, you switch spots a bit awkwardly to let him wash off, and then the water is turned off and you’re wrapping yourselves with towels.

When you’re both finally settled in bed and the light is turned off, you lay beside Eddie, staring at the dark ceiling. Eddie rolls onto his side beside you, draping an arm over your waist and squeezing your soft belly gently as he stares at the side of your face. You turn your head to face him after a moment, a small smile on your face.

“What?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shrugs, feigning innocence as he keeps his gaze on you, then squeezes your belly again, making you laugh softly.

“Just admiring my girl.” he says in an equally quiet voice, and you shake your head, feeling your whole body heat up and your heart clench. He always knows what to say.

“What time do we have to leave tomorrow?” you ask, scooching just a little closer to him.

“Well, Chris forgot to pack a shirt for school tomorrow, and he said he ‘absolutely cannot’ go to school wearing the same shirt as yesterday, so we’ve gotta pick him up and bring him back here instead of just driving him to school. Should leave around 6:30.” he explains, and you laugh softly. You don’t mind having to get up earlier; you love Christopher with all your heart, and you know you’ll just have to sit in the passenger seat while Eddie drives anyway.

“You sure we can’t stay up a little bit later?” you ask, looking over at him with your best pout, and he smiles, rolling his eyes. You still don’t want to go to sleep, no matter how tired you are right now.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that? I have a late shift tomorrow, and I promise I’ll make it up to you after we drop Chris off at school.” he tells you with a smirk, then grabs one of your hands and brings it up to his lips.

You can see the tiredness in his eyes, and you feel a little guilty, so you sigh loudly before you nod.

“Fine. But I’m holding you to it.” you tell him sternly, your lips quirking up at the sides as you narrow your eyes slightly. He leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips, mumbling a quick “promise” against your lips before he pulls away.

“I love you.” he tells you as he pulls you towards him, forcing you to roll onto your side and let him slide behind you.

“I love you.” you reply as you relax into his grip, eyelids getting heavier. 

After a few minutes, you feel Eddie’s arm draped over you get heavier, and his breathing become steadier, and you can tell he’s asleep, but you still try to hold out. You don’t last long, however, as Eddie’s warm embrace and the darkness finally lulls you to sleep.

You gasp when you hear the gunshot echo through your ears, and your eyes immediately find Eddie’s form as he falls to the ground. You’re frozen in your spot as more gunshots are heard, and the pool of blood grows bigger around Eddie, and you feel helpless. 

You try to scream; to yell for help, but nothing comes out. You can’t will your legs to move, or any other part of your body. You watch as Eddie’s breathing slows, and becomes more and more ragged, and you can’t turn your gaze away from him.

You can see the whisper of your name fall from his lips as the life leaves his body, and yet you still can’t move. You feel like you’re glued to the ground, and everything is in slow motion as the beating of your heart moves to the forefront of your hearing. 

You can hear the sirens around you, they’re distant, and you know they won’t make it, because you didn’t do anything. You couldn’t.

When you wake up in Eddie’s bed, and you can barely focus on anything but the hot tears streaming down your face and the way your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest.

You raise two shaky hands up to wipe your tears, and then you rest your face in your hands, trying to slow your breathing. 

You and Eddie drifted apart in your sleep, but it’s the warm touch of his thigh against yours that forces you out of your head and makes you look in his direction. 

He’s facing you, and in the darkness, his face looks exactly like it did in your dream: lifeless. You let out a ragged sob as you jump out of bed, not knowing what to do other than get out of Eddie’s house as soon as possible. You know deep down that it’s a dream, but having Eddie so close to you like this makes it feel even more real.

Eddie picked you up and drove you to his house, but you’re only a couple blocks away, and in your haze, you don’t even think about how dangerous that could be. You’re also so wrapped up in your dream that you don’t see that your abrupt move to stand up caused him to wake up, and he’s now staring at you with a confused expression as he calls your name hoarsely.

He curses under his breath when he sees you dart out of the room and down the hall, and stands up to follow you. He calls your name as you race to the front door, and when you slip on your shoes and run out the door, he stops. He races back to his room and pulls on a pair of sweatpants, a shirt, and shoes before he’s back out the door and following you down the street.

He’s surprised at how fast you’re moving, and he has to run to try to catch up with you already at the end of the street. When you pass under a streetlight, he notices that you’re also running, and he picks up the pace, desperate to catch up to you and figure out what the hell is going on.

All you can hear is your sobs and your shoes hitting the pavement as you make your way home, and your throat is burning as you get further and further from Eddie’s house. 

You finally have to stop a block or two from your house, ducking into an alley and leaning against the bricks as you try to catch your breath. You’re still sobbing, and you drop your head into your hands as you close your eyes, but you shake your head quickly and open your eyes when you see Eddie’s dead eyes boring into yours.

You let out a soft yelp in surprise when you feel a hand on your upper arm, and when you look up and see Eddie, you cry harder, letting him pull you into his strong arms.

He shushes you as you sob into his chest, your arms wrapping around his torso and your hands gripping tightly onto the fabric of his shirt, as if your grip will stop him from disappearing right in front of your eyes.

“You died.” is all he can make out through your sobs, and his brows furrow as he continues to rub your back gently.

“I’m right here, baby, I promise. I’m not going anywhere. We’re okay.” He tries to calm you, letting you sob into his chest as he shushes you, but he can’t tell if it’s working or not. You’re still shaking in his grip, and he’s not sure what to do. He wants his happy girl back.

“Can you tell me what happened, mi amor?” he asks in a soft voice. He feels you let in a big shaky breath, your cheek still pressed against his cheek, and then you speak.

“I keep having this dream about when you were shot. I just watch you die, and I can’t do anything.” He nods slowly, his expression getting sadder as he finally puts the pieces together. You’ve been pulling away from him over the last couple weeks, and now he knows that you didn’t want to tell him about it. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, and you inhale a shaky breath as you shrug. “Baby, you have to tell me about these things, you can’t just keep it in.” he continues, and you chew on your bottom lip, feeling increasingly guilty. You know you should’ve told him, or someone, but you didn’t want him to worry.

“I don’t want to lose you.” is all you can say. He sighs, then presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Let’s go home.” he urges softly, and you nod, finally pulling back from him and looking into his eyes.

He gives you a sad smile as he wraps an arm around your shoulders, then begins to walk you home. He keeps you close the whole way, still remaining vigilant to everything around you, and when you’re finally home, he turns on his bedside lamp and sits you down on the edge of his bed, kneeling between your legs. 

You meet his gaze, chewing on your bottom lip, and he raises a hand to rub his thumb across your cheek. He smiles to himself when he sees you lean into his touch, and his other hand goes to your thigh when he begins to speak.

“I’m not going anywhere, yeah? I got shot months ago, and I’m still here.” You blink slowly as you look down at him, knowing that he’s right. You still can’t shake the feeling, though. You can’t forget about the way his body fell limp and his eyes rolled back. And you couldn’t do a thing.

“I just feel so helpless. What if you-” you stop yourself before you can finish your sentence. You feel like if you say it, it’ll happen. He sighs, shaking his head as he shushes you. He hates that you have to think about this kind of thing.

“I have my team with me all the time. I promise you, if anything does happen, I’ll be okay.” You swallow, squeezing your eyes shut as you nod. You know his team; you love them, and you know he’s right. “What if they’re not there? I have no idea what to do.” you say. You know it’s silly, but you can’t help but think about how the situation would play out if it were to happen with you there and not Buck. You’re no firefighter. You have no idea what you’d do in that situation.

He thinks for a minute, eyes darting around the room. He’s desperate to come up with a solution for you. He wants you to be able to sleep soundly again and stop worrying so much. 

“How about this? We’ll get you signed up for some classes; CPR, stuff like that. So you know what to do.” he offers with a hopeful smile on his face. You think for a moment, letting out a relieved sigh at the idea. That could work. You feel so helpless in your dream, and learning what to do in a situation like that may actually help you stop feeling like that.

“Okay.” you say with a soft smile, and his smile widens just slightly. He stands up and cups your cheeks, then leans down and kisses your forehead softly. 

When he looks back down at you, he sees that your eyelids are heavy and you’re almost completely relaxed again.

“You wanna go to sleep now?” You nod, sighing softly as he takes his hands away from your face. You lay down while he rids himself of his shirt, then he lays beside you again, pulling you to lay your head on his chest.

“And no more running away, okay? You almost gave me a heart attack.” he tells you in a stern, but slightly teasing voice. You nod against his chest, laughing softly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do.” you admit, and he squeezes your shoulders, jaw clenched.

“Talk to me if you have that dream again, okay, mi amor?” he asks in a pleading voice.

“I promise.” you mumble, your eyelids growing heavy as Eddie’s heartbeat acts as a lullaby.

“Good. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” he whispers, feeling you melt into his body.

“I know.” you whisper back, your eyes finally closing as you fall into a peaceful sleep.

He keeps you close the entire night, and when you wake up in the morning and tell him you didn’t have another dream, he’s extremely happy. Now all he has to do is help you find some courses to teach you some basic life saving techniques, or teach you himself. Whatever is necessary to make you feel better.

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[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 6

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here

First - Prev - Next

CH.6

“Good evening, Stanley.”

“...”

“I can see in lieu of speaking, you have instead chosen to communicate with an obscene hand gesture- two obscene hand gestures. I'll excuse your immaturity because I understand you might be feeling… upset.”

“Upset? Me? What could I possibly be upset about?”

“I understand your current state of… lodging is making you apprehensive. On account of being involuntarily committed.”

“You not picking up sarcasm doesn’t surprise me. And this isn’t an involuntary commitment; this is an unlawful abduction and confinement. I have enough experience with both to know the difference.”

“You what?”

“Ask me whatever stupid questions you’re about to ask, but I refuse to stand up. This is literally the first bed I’ve had since prison; and in that bed I had to worry about bed bugs, dirty needles, poisonous snakes… and Jorge.”

“What was that last thing that you just whispered to yourself?”

“Don’t worry about it. Now, what do you want, Doc? You here to scan me again? Get me to take more drugs? Ask me weirdly personal questions like your hot friend?”

“I want to talk. I may have come on a little strong when we crossed paths in town, in order for you to truly understand where I’m coming from, I’m going to have to give you some context in place of your lost memory.”

“Please tell me you’re not about to give me the tragic backstory of you and your missing twin.”

“Listen, Stanley, you don’t remember this; but we had a falling out ten years ago.”

“Aaand you’re doing it. Yeah, that’s pretty much what I was expecting. Fine, I’ll play along.”

“We were in our senior year of high school. You ruined a project of mine, and it cost me my dream college. We had a fight, and you got- you left home after that.”

“Man, dunno why I’d do something like that.”

“You were scared of me leaving you.”

“Did a shitty thing, and ended up alone anyways. That's something I'd expect from me.”

“And then you tried to justify it and say there was a silver lining-.”

“I’m sorry.”

“...What?”

“I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

“... Where’s your excuse?”

“Hm?”

“Your excuses- your reasons? You cannot just apologize- so casually.”

“Sure I can. I just did. You don't accept it, that’s your right."

“...You don’t mean that.”

“Naw, I’m pretty sure no one deserves to be betrayed. I’m sorry you were.”

“Saying sorry doesn’t make it okay.”

“Didn’t say it did. Nothing can- it’s already happened, and there’s no changing it. You don’t wanna forgive and forget? I won’t make you.”

“And you’re going to simply… move on?”

“Look, PhD, I can’t tell you why your real twin did what he did, or what was going through his head when he did it. But he did the wrong thing to the wrong person, and paid for it. It’s too bad you had to pay for it too.”

“You are-.”

“Can see why you’d get us mixed up though. All I do is ruin things, too. Maybe if that thing with your project hadn’t happened, you wouldn’t be a wackjob who carries a tranq gun with him everywhere and abducts people off of the street.”

“I’m not mixing anything up. You are exactly who I keep trying to tell you that you are. You’re just not you right now.”

“I’m never anybody but me. You feel better now? Get all of that out of your system?”

“Now that I have told you what separated us-.”

“I’m gonna take that as a no.”

“Can you fill me in on the years that followed?”

“Doc, a lot of what I remember is like smoke - it’s hazy, and it’s hard to hold onto, can you be specific?”

“How about we start with something tangible?”

“Like what?”

“I am going to slip a paper and a pen through the slot in the door. Write down a list of the people who’ve tried to kill you.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. You told my associate a number of alarming things during his interview with you, and he reported that a not insignificant number of those things revolved around people trying to kill you.”

“A lot of them still want me dead, you know. If they figured out where I was, they might raid this place. It’s not too late to just… let me go, and we can pretend none of this happened. I’m not gonna hold a grudge against you, it's clear to me you've got issues because your real twin is either dead or hiding in Cuba.”

“They can try. They’ll fail.”

"Gutsy. We coulda been friends if you weren't insane."

"...We were."

"If you say so."

To be continued...

[pocket-watcher]

I really loved the massage fic you did awhile ago! I don't really have another idea but could you do another one like that?

Hiya anon! My ongoing back pain and I can definitely dream something up for you!!

“…Why the hell are you standing like that?”

Aiysha’s disapproving gaze looked over Henry, who was contorting his body to stand in the most unnatural way possible.

“This is the only way I can stand where the pain is tolerable.” He whined.

Aiysha tutted. “You’re a grown man, Henry, I told you that this was going to catch up with you! You can’t sit like a gremlin while you work anymore.”

Henry shifted, whimpering in pain quietly.

Aiysha cared. A lot. More than she’d like to admit, and seeing her friend in pain? Well…

“Ugh. Fine, look.” She fished a card out of her purse and handed it to Henry. It read:

DR. MONTGOMERY

Liscenced masseuse and chiropractor

The address wasn’t too far from his house, Henry thought to himself.

“When I broke my back he worked magic. Maybe he’ll be able to help you.”

Henry thanked her, and she pulled him into a hug, and he felt his back twinge in pain.

Yeah, he’d need to make an appointment. Today, if possible.

—————————

“Henry Williams?” The receptionist called out.

He stood, and allowed himself to be navigated to a room where presumably Dr. Montgomery was waiting for him.

“Ah! Henry! What seems to be the problem?” The man asked, as Henry hopped up onto the massage table.

“So, uh, my posture isn’t great, and my whole back hurts. I don’t think it’s like anything wrong, just all my muscles aching a lot.” He explained.

The doctor scribbled some notes as Henry talked.

“Okay, if you can take off your clothes and lie down on the table then we can start, and if the problems persist I can talk to you about further treatment. How does that sound?”

“That sounds great, thank you!” Henry began unbuttoning his top and the doctor looked away. Henry positioned himself, a towel covering him.

As he put his face through the hole in the massage table he noticed a screen below it.

“Oh, cool! What does this do?”

He could hear the doctor approaching him.

“We use it to play soothing music and visuals to help our clients relax. Here, let me show you.”

The doctor bent down and flipped a switch. The screen came to life, playing a soothing video of the ocean.

Henry felt the cool touch of hands on his back and allowed himself to melt into the table.

Dr. Montgomery’s hands worked expertly, as if the man knew exactly where the pain was coming from.

Henry bit back moans of relief, trying to focus on the screen below and not the glorious feeling of relieved tension.

The screen might have glitched a little. It was like another image was burned on top of the calming beach video.

He didn’t cock his head in confusion. No, it was more that the doctor had moved it to one side to get at a particularly bad knot in Henry’s shoulder.

A few moans escaped.

Henry kept watching the video. He realised they were words. Words burnt into the screen. He tried to make them out as his body sank into the massage table.

S…sub…mit?

That’s weird, he thought to himself.

Another:

Obey.

Giv…e in

Relax

The words became clearer the more he focused on them.

Deeper

Pleasure

Control

Henry’s mind, unfortunately, was too relaxed to panic. The combination of the calming atmosphere, the relief of the massage, and the subliminal messaging being beamed into his brain for the last 10 minutes had carefully moulded him into a puddle, with any resistance leaving his body with every moan and whine.

Dr. Montgomery tutted.

“You’re not taking care of yourself. You need to sit properly. Stand every once in a while. Maybe even a light stretch.”

The words washed over Henry, taking up all the free space that PAIN had previously occupied. He tried to agree, to nod, but all he could do was stare.

“Once this massage is over you’re going to forget all about this little talk we’re having, and you’re going to start being more sensible with how you work and how you sit. Aren’t you?”

Henry murmured in response. Which turned into a heavy breath as the doctor pushed down onto a sore point.

“Atta’ boy.”

Aiysha waited outside for Henry, but something was pulling her inside. Sure, her back was fine now - but a little self pampering never hurt anyone…?

Before she could make an appointment Henry, with a spring in his step, greeted her outside.

“You look better.” She grinned.

“I owe you, like, my whole life. Dinner? On me?”

Aiysha smiled at the building.

“Sounds great.”

[kentocidal]

MAKING A HOME .txt

USERS: ochaco uraraka x afab!fem!reader

WARNING! THIS FILE IS CORRUPTED WITH THE FOLLOWING MALWARE: infidelity, mommy kink, light vouyerism, oral (f!receiving), fingering, fantasies, dom!ochaco

NOTES: repost from my old blog. lightly proofread. everyone say welcome back woodrow. ~3.1k words.

ochaco was… well, she was overwhelmed, to state it simply.

she had always dreamt of a perfect life without having to care about money, and she got it. she had always dreamt of being an amazing and helpful hero, and she got that, too. and finally, she had always dreamt of being a wife and a mother. she had managed to achieve that as well, having a powerful husband and two little children running around at her ankles whenever she returned home, always happy to see mommy.

but, as life always goes, she was still unsatisfied.

marrying a high-school sweetheart was the wish of every woman, of course. she had thought herself lucky to have found someone so young. izuku had been the man of her dreams for quite some time, but they sealed the deal in third year after two long school years filled with pining.

and he had fulfilled her in the only ways he knew how: he was sweet, funny, bashful… but he was quick to rise in the ranks. he married her and it was all for the public. and then he got busier and busier, less caring to her and more work-oriented. she was lucky if he saw him twice a day. she was often left alone with the heavy burden of being a hero and a mother of two young children that took after their rowdy father.

she was overwhelmed. and she was exhausted. which is why she put out an ad under a pseudonym, looking for a full-time babysitter to help her with her woes.

that’s how she ended up with you at her doorstep, nervously clutching your purse that held your printed resume and a reference from your old job.

you loved kids. you loved being around them, caring for them, and just helping other parents take a break. you had left your previous job at a daycare to pursue the nanny life, wanting to help shape kids who needed some extra time.

but all of that went out the window when pro-hero uravity was the one opening the door, looking tired and a little messy and oh so beautiful.

she was your favorite pro. you had admired her from afar, watching her slowly rise in the ranks and admiring her honesty for why she was a hero in the first place. you valued her strengths and honestly didn’t understand why she wasn’t as popular as her husband. now she was standing in front of you, pink cheeks swelled and soft from her older age of thirty five, robe tied loosely around her and hugging her round figure. she was built on dense muscle but she was soft in the middle from having two kids and it looked spectacular on her.

the two of you sized one another up. you swallowed a little, and opened your mouth to say something, but a sudden crash resounded from the living room, making both of you jolt.

“haru! tadashi! what are you two doing in there?!” ochaco nervously shouted back, stepping into the house and leaving enough entryway for you to go in. your feet moved before your brain could compute, and you hurried into the living room, shucking your purse and shoes in the foyer before heading in.

“hi guys,” you smiled at the two kids (which, notably, looked almost exactly like izuku did). one of them, whose freckles stuck out on his cheeks and neck, immediately hopped to his feet. “mommy! mommy! a stranger’s in here!”

“it’s fine, i’m a friend!” you quickly shook your head and surveyed the damage. the boys had been building an unstable lego tower, which had crashed completely onto the glass coffee table. the other boy hopped to his feet too, following his older brother. “stranger! get out!”

“it’s fine, guys, really.” you laughed and dropped to your knees, looking over the base of the structure. “what were you guys building?”

the eldest, still skeptical of your arrival, squinted at you. “we were rebuilding the tokyo tower, but haru pushed it over.”

“did not!” the youngest, now identified as haru, pouted and stamped his foot into the carpet.

“did too!”

“did n-”

“you guys need a stronger base.” you hastily interrupted their bickering by sweeping the fallen pieces onto the floor, making them forget their plight and turn to you as you started to explain. “the tower is big at the bottom and gets smaller towards the top. if you want to make a smaller one, you have to make it nice and big at the bottom. look.”

the two boys sat and watched you build a square base for their tower with rapt attention, nodding along. the eldest, most likely tadashi, punched his hand into his fist. “that makes more sense! it won’t fall so easy if it's big on the bottom!”

“uh, yeah!” haru nodded, not understanding quite as much but clearly wanting to seem cool. you smiled anyway and passed them the blocks that you had in your hands.

“here, keep going. you’ll have your own tokyo tower soon.”

they both start to continue to build up and up, and you get to your feet and dust your knees off, finally turning to where your gracious, gorgeous host was watching, slack-jawed.

your face heated a bit in your own embarrassment; you really had just intruded on her home and stepped into a situation she could have handled. you walked up to her, wringing your hands together. “mrs. midoriya-”

“they’ve never calmed down so quickly.” she steepled her hands under her nose, watching her boys - her rowdy, loud, over-excitable boys - play calmly as if nothing had happened.

you glanced between the children and ochaco before just smiling sheepishly. “i, uh… i’ve always been really good with kids. i love them.”

ochaco was quiet for a moment, glancing you up and down, making your face feel ever-hotter under her clearly appreciative gaze.

she dropped her hands from her face and shoved one out towards you, her pinky curled into her palm to prevent you from floating when you took it to shake.

“you’re hired.”

you lived in the house for a short month, and in that time you had come to know the inner workings of the midoriya’s.

their home was only happy to the press. you had maybe met pro-hero deku exactly once, when he stopped home for dinner. he had looked at you with his brows furrowed, asking ochaco who you were and why you were occupying the guest room. ochaco was happy to explain that she needed the help with the kids between her work, because she worked too, which he seemed to always forget.

he had had the gall to nod, smile at you in greeting, and then ask ochaco when dinner was going to be served because he had a meeting to get to across japan.

you had decided, then, that the big pro-hero deku wasn’t as jovial as the tabloids had made him out to be.

you were the one to help dress the kids for school. you brushed out their unruly hair and made sure they ate all of their breakfast. you walked them to school, and then you went back to your new home to watch ochaco bustle around in a frenzy before going to her agency to start patrol.

she always gave you a tight hug in the morning before she left. always. with each hug you felt yourself falling more and more in love with her.

you knew she was out of your league, of course. she was a pro-hero, a married one at that. you couldn’t be crushing on the woman you so graciously took you in when you were looking for a job. but you couldn’t help it. you had slowly became her rock, the one to rely on instead of her always-away husband who barely made time for her or his children.

it was one event that shifted the dynamic between you two and left you with far more questions than you had answers to.

she had known you were home. she had to have. you had dropped a pot in the kitchen while cleaning up. and yet here you were, standing in the darkened hallway while the white light of the bathroom poured out through the crack in the ajar door.

it was late. the boys were asleep. you two were the only ones awake. she had gone in to shower. she should know better than to leave the door open, and yet…

she shed her towel. there she was, standing there in the bathroom, hair wet and dripping all down her tanned skin and perky breasts and soft tummy and thick, thick thighs, and…

you lost your breath. her nipples were hard from the cold and you could see the way the water droplets glistened on them. she was so full, so full of life and beauty and honestly in your opinion she looked like such a goddess.

you hadn’t realized you were panting the slightest bit and staring at her until you glanced up towards her pretty, round face and caught you. her honey brown eyes locked onto yours, and all you could do was quickly turn and walk away, hurrying down the hall into your room.

you closed and locked the door, fully intending to simply forget the interaction, but it was seared into the backs of your eyelids.

you had seen her carnally. and now you wanted to know her that way, too.

after that it became a spiral. you tried to focus on work but she was only wearing robes around the house after patrols, using excuse after excuse as to why she didn’t want to wear proper clothes. but when she did, they were tight, short numbers that made you drool without realizing it. she was coming onto you and you weren’t sure whether to consider yourself the luckiest girl alive or the worst person on the planet.

because yeah, ochaco was in a rough place with deku. she could just want to use you… or maybe not.

you honestly didn’t know and couldn’t tell.

the air between the both of you after that altercation was thick and laced with hunger and tension, making you shake in your shoes. you didn’t want to get the wrong impression.

but ochaco was tired of you dancing around her like she was a fragile option. she was tired of it, three months in, and she simply couldn’t do it anymore.

you had dropped the boys off at school and came home with the intent to clean. to your surprise, ochaco was in the kitchen, looking out through the window over the sink and sipping a cup of tea in that beautiful pink robe she loved to wear around you.

you swallowed a little and set your purse on the island. “mrs. midoriya? whatre you doing home?”

“i took the day off.” she set the now empty mug into the sink and turned her head a little to look at you over her shoulder.

“o-oh,” you stuttered, trying to look everywhere but at her.

that was the final mistake you would make.

ochaco turned and quickly approached you, hands coming down hard on either side of you on the island, caging you in. you yelped in surprise and let your eyes go wide as you stared at her.

“m-mrs.-“

“do you think i’m pretty?”

you stared at her. what?

she didn’t like your silence and it showed in her gaze. “i asked you a question. i pay you to be honest to me. tell me. do you think i’m pretty, y/n? attractive?”

you bit down on your lip before taking in a deep breath. “y-yes. i t-think you’re… i think you’re so beautiful.” and that was the truth, because you had spent many a night locked in your room with your fingers plunged deep in your cunt, trying to bring yourself to release while thinking about her, her, her.

her pink cheeks warmed up the slightest bit more. “you do? you think that?”

“yes,” you managed, more confidently this time, and she must’ve liked that answer because she grinned at you before forcefully pressing those pillow-plush lips to yours.

your hands easily found her shoulders, squeezing them and whimpering. you pushed at her shoulders, suddenly remembering where you were, and she pulled away to shake her head. “deku isn’t coming home today. he doesn’t want me - you do.”

“mrs.-“

“you don’t have to call me that anymore, y/n.” she shook her head, lifting a hand to touch your cheek. “just call me ochaco. or mommy. mommy would be nice coming from you, pretty thing…”

who was this and where was ochaco?!

but, then again… you knew better than to disrespect or disobey a pro-hero. you knew a lot better. you didn’t answer her as you leaned to catch her lips again, and she sighed gently at your ambition.

your lips meshed with hers with sudden ease, the softness of her chapstick making it easier for you. her tongue pushed its way into your mouth, her hands sliding along the island to your sides, sneaking up under your shirt and making you jump.

“shhh, it’s alright. it’s just us…” she cooed against your lips, feeling for the hem to start taking you out of your shirt. you just let her, lifting your arms over your head and watching the way her pupils dilated in the lights of the kitchen when she saw the clean expanse of your skin, lacking the battle scars her own torso adorned. she bit on her lip and reached around you to unclasp your bra, and you let it fall to the floor, your nipples hardening under the sudden cold air of the kitchen.

she let out a breath. “i knew you were perfect, gosh…” her soft hand enveloped one of your tits, squeezing before moving to flick your nipple, making you jump and whimper through your teeth.

“come on y/n. you wanna see me again? i know you were staring when i left the door open. i wanted you to come in…”

your head was swimming. she really wanted you? your hands moved without your consent to the fuzzy piece of fabric holding her robe closed, and she allowed you to untie it and let the clothing drop to the floor. she had absolutely nothing on under it, and you practically moaned when you saw how perfect she was.

she smiled and blushed, as if she was the least bit bashful, before her hands were sliding down your navel to your jeans button, and you nodded just barely. she wasn’t looking, she didn’t care - she was going to do it anyway.

she shucked you of your clothes and finally looked at your face again, smiling at your embarrassed expression before leaning to peck your lips. her fingers slid down, down, down between your legs, dancing over your thighs before her finger dipped between your wet folds, making you absolutely keen.

she cooed at that. “oh, sweetheart, you’re soaked. don’t make a mess on the tile, baby, you’ll have to clean it up.”

you nodded, already desperate for her touch. her free hand held onto your hip as she started to rub her finger against your clit with the collected juices, making your legs tense and your head drop back. “ochaco, please…”

“please what?”

“you know…?”

“i don’t, baby. you have to use your words.”

“please, want your fingers in, please…” you looked at her desperately, and she giggled at your expression before her index finger dipped into your tight hole, making you moan and grip the island.

“you like that? that’s what you need, baby?”

“y-yes! ‘chaco, please, please touch…”

“i know. i’ll take care of you. mommy knows best.” she purred and pushed a second finger into your tight cunt, her lips connecting with your neck to suck a hickey low down on your collarbone. it made you whine out, white-knuckling the counter underneath you.

she knew just how to curl her fingers, just how to jerk her thumb against your clit to make you jolt, just how to mouth at your jaw to make you weaker in the knees.

you had never gotten so close to the edge before.

“please! gotta cum, ‘chaco, gotta cum!”

“babygirl wants to cum? you have to say please.”

“please! please, please, please, please lemme cum-!”

she hummed against your jugular as if in thought, feeling the way your cunt fluttered around her fingers, before she giggled. “fine, cum or don’t cum at all, baby.”

your eyes rolled back as your whole body tensed up tight, seeing the stars in the night sky as you gushed around her fingers.

she fucked you through your orgasm before gently hooking her hands around your knees to drop you down to the floor. her clean hand went to the back of your head, and she tugged you forward in your haze.

“be a good girl, baby. you know what to do.”

her wet hand went down between her own thighs, spreading her folds and letting you get a good look at the glistening sheen of her cunt in the sickly kitchen light. “you gonna be good?”

you didn’t even need to answer. you were already burying your face between those folds, licking eagerly at her fluttering hole before sliding your mouth up to her clit and sucking.

she moaned softly, always modest and gentle. her hips rolled rhythmically down against your tongue, and her eyes never left yours while you licked and lapped and sucked at her for dear life.

“that’s it baby. you gonna make mommy cum? you gonna make me feel so good, huh? yeah? what a good girl, shit…”

you had never heard her swear before. she was so beautiful, rocking her hips down against your face. you were barely able to breathe but you didn’t care, hands grabbing at her thighs to pull her closer to yourself and try to savor the moment for as long as possible.

her moans grew in pitch and fervor, the hand on the back of your head curling and gripping you tight.

“good girl, good girl, gonna cum in your mouth, oh fuck-!”

she whined so prettily for you when she gushed onto your tongue that you yourself moaned, rendering you speechless while you watched the flush overtake her chest snd shoulders.

you licked at her clit through her orgasm before she was pushing you back gently. she leaned down to kiss your lips softly.

“you have to get cleaned up for the next round in a little bit. but you should fix up some salad first for the both of us. alright?”

“yes mommy.”

[bleue-flora]

and if i said c!dream had some form of empathy in c!tommy in exile, i'd get shot but that trident scene... look it may have been manipulation on c!Dreams part but since deep down c!Dream doesn't want to be lonely. I can see apart of him enjoying c!tommys company. and I have the hot take that if c!Discduo in exile ever had a moment of having a deep conversation and it wasn't just constant jokes and surface level friendship then I think it could have turned into a genuine friendship, it would take apologies, building trust. I'm an idiot for thinking this I know. wholesome c!discduo always seems to live rent free in my head.

What may surprise you is that I actually agree. I haven’t rewatched all of Exile in a while, though it is on my list. But having said that, I have always been under the impression that there is an underlying genuine friendship there. The best lies have a cornel of truth if you will and the same applies for manipulation. The more you believe it the more they believe it. And we know Dream uses this method because within his evil monologues and such there is a thread of truth weaved in there. So I do think Dream is in some ways genuine. Even further, I think perhaps he has convinced himself that Tommy is his friend by pure choice not circumstance. And I think he does want to be Tommy’s friend or at least did, and while he tried to do it in the normal manner perhaps he determined this was the only way for Tommy to see him as more than a villain. I don’t know…

But the line in the disc finale of “We were friends!” as Dream begs for his life stands out to me. Because I think a part of him saw Exile as real. The same part I think that didn’t fully expect Tommy to kill him all the way…

Exile, much like Daedalus is complex and with Daedalus we have a little more context to what Dream actually wants, which for Exile is perhaps a slightly nuanced. Was he manipulating Tommy - yes. But I am of the opinion that intentional or not, there was a form of genuine bond with him. I mean the thing is, if Dream is manipulating Tommy in Exile - isolating him and making himself Tommy’s only friend, then doesn’t that say something? Do we ever ask *why* he might be doing that?

He says to Tommy later in the disc confrontation, “everything I do is deliberate,” and although that’s true in general, I do think that Dream is also susceptible to emotions like the rest of us, but he uses those for a strategy and tells himself it was intentional the whole time. So, like Daedalus, I’m of the opinion that part of exile was Dream losing his temper and letting his emotions get the better of him, which he uses for his plan but may not have been really intended. When talking to Punz he says that after he blew up the chest that Tommy hid and was going to use to kill him, he ended up coming back to see if Tommy was ok [clip].

He lost everything because of Tommy, would that not make you angry enough to take it out on the source of your pain? Wouldn’t you want that person to feel lonely and abandoned just like you, wouldn’t you want that person to lose their items over and over just like he has done to you? Cuz I think overall he had a plan, but I’m not sure he meant to go as far as he did in some cases, I think emotion got the better of him, honestly understandably so. Isn’t that why Tommy murdered Dream in the disc confrontation? Revenge…

Unfortunately, I do think that reconciliation was probably never going to happen for them, I’m not sure at the moment, when they lost that chance, perhaps when he gave the tnt to Wilbur?… but I think their hate had grown a lot before Exile and they were both in very bad places emotionally speaking, which I find to be unhelpful when trying to make amends. A lot of times, it take a cleared head and not being raw from being hurt to be able to hear someone out, apologize, forgive, makeup or reach understanding. I mean maybe if Dream didn’t sabotage his beach party and take Ranboo’s letters and stuff then it’s possible… but then again the other people would likely relight the flame of hatred toward Dream. Quackity being an excellent example of someone who’s going for Dream’s head, ‘he’s a bad guy, he exiled you. He blew up L’manberg…’ etc probably undoing all the work. If he had let Tommy get items, Tommy would have probably tried to kill him, so sadly I’m not sure there was a world where Exile could have fixed their relationship. But it would have been nice, wouldn’t it? They make such a fun team…

[galariangengar]

💭

[lokissweater]

birds of a feather . ۫ ꣑ৎ .

{olympic figure skater!satoru gojo x olympic figure skater f!reader}

summary: you and satoru have known each other since childhood, two little birds navigating through life together as you shared one dream in common— to win gold at the olympics, you both a figure skating pair as you moved and performed and fell in love as the years went by, both balancing off a trembling tight rope and holding on to keep each other in place, a silent agreement that if you indulged and fell into the depths of the truth of what you were, you’d run the risk of losing your careers and each other, yours and satoru’s biggest fears. but you’re growing, and it’s getting harder to hold back… especially for satoru— that trembling tight rope on the verge of snapping in two.

warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, childhood best friends to lovers trope, cursing, DIABOLICAL ANGST BUT WITH HAPPY ENDING I PROMISE!, mentions of death and loss, mentions of injury and blood, FLUUUFFF, satoru loves loves loves you, SMUUUTT, unprotected p in v sex (wrap it y’all), creampie, pussy eating, dom satoru, pussy drunk satoru, DIRTY TALK, pet names, figure skating, the olympics, true love <3

word count: 22.3k (I KNOW PLEASE GIVE ME A CHANCE PLEASE—)

authors note: YYYOOOUUU GUUUYYSSS THIS ONE IS MY BABBBYYY AND IM CRYING NOW WRITING THIS LMFAOAOAO. i hope you all love it seriously i GLADLY worked day and night writing this and i’d do it all over again just to see y’all happy :) THANK YOU for your support it is UNREAL, and like always, I LOOVEEE YOUUU MWAAHHH <333

you first met satoru when you were six at the skating rink.

he was only a year older than you, both of your mothers coincidentally signing you up for the same youth ice skating lessons for beginners, meeting and chatting it up seeing as you and satoru were the youngest in age out of the rest of the parents there and their children, you both automatically put together by your coach and separated from the older kids to do warm ups.

and even though the age difference was only a year, satoru at first treated you like a little helpless tiny thing who needed assistance in everything— the cute pink ribbons in your hair doing you an injustice and further implementing the image of a little girl who had no clue of what was going on around her, thinking you were cutesy and he was determined to be your little knight in shining armor when the time came.

until he saw you skate.

what satoru didn’t know, was that you were a prodigy— related to one of the most famous ice skaters in olympic ice skating history, akira, as her talent was blessedly passed down to you through your fruitful system and the lucky processes of genetics— chosen as you barely even had to be taught, you catching everything right away by the coach without any sort of slip and fall… unlike satoru who was clumsily struggling to even glide through the ice without wobbling.

and little satoru was astonished by you and your talent, his first impression of you drastically changing by the end of the first lesson as he shakily slid across the ice over to where you were, patiently doing little turns on the ice while you waited for your mother to finish up talking to another lady (it was satoru’s mother).

“hi!” he had greeted you, a huge goofy smile on his face as you slowed down and looked at him, returning a shy smile of your own.

“hi.”

“i’m satoru!” he extended a hand, eyes shooting wide as he suddenly lost his balance and slipped forward, on the brink of face planting on the ice as his hands quickly flailed out and gripped the edge of the rink to save himself.

you giggled, tiny hands reaching and holding his arm steady as he tried to regain his balance.

“are you okay?” your shy voice asked, and he grinned through his wobbling.

“yeah! i’m okay! don’t worry!”

but he still couldn’t stabilize himself.

“maybe we should sit on the bench?” you suggested sweetly. “so you don’t fall…”

“okay!”

you gripped him as hard as you could (which really wasn’t a lot for a six year old) and slowly moved with him on the ice, supporting him until you were both out of the rink and seated on the bleachers.

“what’s your name?” he chirped, his hands clutching on the edge of the bench as he leaned forward and looked at you kindly, legs swinging.

“y—y/n.”

“nice!” he cheesed, looking at you. “i saw you skate. you’re really good!”

“t—thank you.” you mumbled, shy and alarmed that a boy was talking to you.

“when did you start skating?”

you looked at him confusedly. “um.. today?”

his eyes bulged.

“hah?! today?!”

you jumped at his outburst, cheeks pink as you quickly nodded.

“wowww!…” he gushed with stars in his eyes. “that’s great! i saw you doing turns and things. i can barely move on the ice… it’s slippery.”

“well—” you peeked up at him shyly. “my—my aunt taught me some stuff… but not a lot.”

“you have someone in your family that skates?” he asked excitedly with huge blue eyes. “how cool! hopefully i can catch up to you and at least move…”

“that’s okay...” you smiled. “i know you will.”

“really?!” he gushed again before leaning back, nodding his head cutely. “if you think so, then i know so!”

and you giggled at him, your timid wall slowly crumbling down at his bubbly and kind personality as he was a chatterbox and talked to you about anything that had to do with olympic ice skating— him knowing so much about it and nearly screaming his head off and panicking when he found out that your aunt was none other than akira, now knowing exactly why you were so good at skating in the first place.

satoru looked up to you. so much so that it was comical— seeking your approval over the following years during lessons and not even listening to the damn coach himself as he listened more to you, wanting you to teach him how to do bunny hops or backward crossovers and giving a big fat attitude to anyone else who tried to coach him, whining and snoring away until you and your little bows skated over to him to teach him.

and because of that you spent a lot of time with satoru in and out of lessons, even more than you ever spent with your own friends at school as you clung to him at all times— him cheering and encouraging you on when you were shy in certain situations, and you teaching him everything you could about skating and bringing him little bags of strawberry gummy puffs since he had the biggest sweet tooth you had ever seen, you both cemented and stubbornly attached to the hip with neither wanting to let go.

and when your mother’s planned a little playdate at the local outdoor ice skating rink on a chilly december day— an enormous christmas tree sitting tall and glorious by the rink with twinkling star-shaped fairy lights and jingle bells surrounding the plaza, you and satoru spinning each other around and dancing and giggling over the murmur of classic christmas songs, they saw the potential… an idea sparking in their heads amongst their cooing and picture taking.

you and satoru were both originally put into the ice skating world to train and be independent professional skaters, olympic athletes to be more specific when the time came.

but that concept quickly changed the second you met.

now— you and satoru were an olympic ice skating pair, the subject materializing when your mother’s pulled you out from those simple ice skating lessons (you both already way past getting the basics down since your skill combined with you teaching satoru had you both surpassing the class) and paying for a professional couples figure skating coach to get you guys started now and early.

and the both of you were over the moon, especially satoru, as he absolutely adored you and begged his mother literally every fucking day if he could go over to your house or over to the ice skating rink with you to dance, you doing the same and the two of you crying and wailing on the floor whenever times wouldn’t work out and plans fell through, your mother’s having to give in and drag you to each other’s houses so you would both stop crying.

when akira found out you were officially figure skating, she nearly drove into the side of a building speeding over to your house from being out of the country for so long competing.

“is it true?!” she burst through the doors, your mother rolling her eyes after being startled half to death over her bizarre behavior. “is my little niece gonna be a figure skater like me?!”

you gasped excitedly upon seeing her, getting up from your spot on the rug and running over to akira’s open arms, leaving your coloring book and crayons behind as she swung you around.

“she started when she was six you know that…” your mother grumbled, folding various kitchen towels.

“but you just told me now that she’s not independent!” akira countered, setting you down and holding you out at arms length, eyes wide and eager. “—but partner figure skating! like me!”

she shook you. “where is he?! your partner! is he here? is he your age? is he nice?”

you perked up and looked over to the kitchen. “oh mommy! satoru should come and meet—”

“his name is satoru? oh my goodness how cuteeee!” she cooed, pinching your cheeks. “is he handsome? do you like him? do you have a crush on him—”

your little cheeks blazed as your mother threw a kitchen towel at her.

“she’s eight aki! jesus christ.”

“love has no limits.” akira wiggled a finger, and you giggled.

your mother called satoru’s place soon after, his mother excitedly conversing over the other line about how the akira was finally back in town and how satoru was gonna lose his mind once he saw her— you knowing he was the biggest fan and sometimes told you facts during lessons that you didn’t even know about your own aunt.

and when they finally did arrive, satoru was stiff— frozen in place with tight arms at his sides by the living room as his alarmed big blue eyes looked at akira with a sickly pale face, you snickering behind him.

“hi satoru!” akira greeted, leaning down with her hands on her knees to look at him at eye level. “it’s nice to meet you! y/n tells me you like my skating?”

“u—uhuh.” he responded dumbly, and you slapped a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from laughing, knowing satoru would cry and whine about it later if he heard you.

“that’s great! i’m happy you skate too… and with my niece i should say!” she spoke kindly, ruffling his snowy colored hair up and standing upright, placing her hands on her hips and looking like a straight freaking superhero in satoru’s eyes. “you wanna compete in the olympics?”

“uh huh.”

a laughing breath hurled from your throat and your cheeks puffed up like a squirrel, clasped hands still over your mouth and face going red from how hard you were trying to keep it in.

“that’s what i like to hear.” she smiled, a shiny impressive one as satoru still stood there in a stuck daze.

“work hard okay? the both of you. so you can catch up to me someday, yeah?”

your hands slowly fell from your mouth then, eyes filled with admiration and determination as you both eagerly nodded, looking at each other hopefully.

“you think—” satoru stammered, looking at akira. “you think we can… win three gold medals like you?”

“oh absolutely!” she shrugged. “i don’t doubt it at all.”

you and satoru gushed, glittering little eyes as you stared up cutely at akira, her giving you both a silly grin.

“how long have they been doing partner work?” she asked your mother suddenly, watching the way you and satoru chattered then excitedly about the actual possibility of competing for the olympics someday.

“mmm, i wanna say for about a year and a half? maybe two?” she looked over at satoru’s mother, who nodded in agreement. “they’re with a couple’s figure skating coach right now.”

akira hummed and shifted her gaze back down between the two of you.

“i’m training them from now on.”

both mothers froze, eyes wide as they stared at her.

you and satoru hadn’t even realized what she said, still caught up in your little bubble of the olympics and metals and competitions until your mother caught your attention.

“did you hear?”

you shook your head. “hear what!”

“akira wants to coach you and satoru.”

his jaw dropped and he nearly passed out on the floor, you quickly grabbing his shoulders as he reeled over.

“are— are you sure?” your mother continued, looking at her sister now. “aren’t you busy? i thought you were only here for the weekend.”

she waved her off. “i need a break from skating for a little… at least until the next olympics.”

akira turned to you then and smiled warmly. “and i wanna coach my little niece and her new buddy! if that’s okay?”

“yesyesyesyes!—”

both you and satoru bounced up and down and cheered, arms up as you tackled and hung off of akira like a jungle gym, her laughing and smiling big at your enthusiasm.

akira was the most important figure in your life, right next to satoru as she became a mother figure to the both of you as well as your mentor.

and training with her was not easy— your age not an excuse at all whatsoever in her eyes to not learn proper figure skating moves and technique, saying it would only serve you right in the end if you started adapting your bodies to it now rather than later.

and like most things, akira was right. but even though practices were grueling and tough to the point where you had to drag satoru across the ice to get up, she always tried to make them fun in the end— cracking jokes and teaching you guys silly little tricks that you could do with each other on the ice that she figured out over her years of skating with her partner, taking you both out for ice cream frequently after and telling you of her travels competing around the world, the people she’d met, and the titles she’d won— all things that were you and satoru’s ultimate dream as you listened eagerly.

by the time you were twelve and satoru was thirteen, it was obvious you guys were meant to be olympic athletes together.

“you need to pick your leg a little further up on the spin, toru.”

he stuck his tongue out. “says who.”

“says me.” you poked his cheek. “and i’m pretty sure aki told you before she left too.”

“yes ma’am!” he nodded, gliding a bit further away from you on the ice before picking his momentum up and reaching you, him bending his knees and wrapping his arms around your torso as you both went into fast spins, one leg extended for the both of you as your arms gripped over his shoulders— practicing the routine akira had given you for your upcoming competition.

“yeah like that!” you smiled, spins gradually slowing down and satoru coming back up from his bend until you both stood still on the ice. “good job toru!”

he grinned and ruffled your hair. “thanks!”

“mhm!” you responded, turning and skating away to the edge of the rink to hide the blush that was rising in your cheeks.

“what?!” he whined. “where are you going? do i stink?”

“no!” you laughed, shaking your head. “just the usual sweat and B.O.”

“aw no!” he quickly skated to the edge of the rink and out before flying for his duffel bag. “i hate being a man i hate puberty this is ridiculous—”

“i’m kidding im kidding!” you called from across the ice, cackling when he stopped and whipped his head over, glaring at you. “you’re fine toru— not stinky.”

“well you’re stinky for putting me in distress how about that?” he huffed, an eventual smile playing at his lips as he put down his duffel bag and went inside the rink again.

akira was currently on her way to compete at the olympics for her fourth gold medal in partner figure skating, you and satoru having no doubt in your minds that she was going to absolutely clear everyone else there and get it, as she’s never gotten silver or bronze or anything lower than that.

“when do we fly to see aki again?” satoru called from across the ice, gliding to and fro in figure eights. “don’t say tomorrow morning because i haven’t started packing yet heh… oops.”

you giggled. “it is tomorrow morning, dummy.”

“no!” he stopped and shoved his hands in his hair. “i haven’t even started planning my outfits! oh i was gonna take so many pictures what am i supposed to do now—”

you laughed loudly and skated back over to him, hands wrung behind your back as you looked at him cheekily. “you’re silly toru. outfits for what? literally just show up.”

“it’s not everyday we leave the country y/n!” he whined. “i wanted to sport my best and look cool, dang it.”

you playfully rolled your eyes and lifted your hand, patting his head.

“i’ll show up in pajamas and you show up in yours, and we’ll call it a day. hm?”

he grinned.

“matching? or seperate? and what color? plaid?”

“toru!”

he laughed and skated past you, nudging your shoulder with his in the process. “i’m just messing with youuu, matching obviously!”

satoru came back around, reached up and straightened the ribbons in your hair, little white bows sitting pretty as a blush rose to his cheeks when he was done.

“wanna run it three more times and call it?” he suggested. “i wanna make sure i get what you told me down before we go.”

you smiled and quickly nodded, taking satoru’s extended hand and skating together to first position.

watching akira win gold in person for the first time in your life was an experience you’ll never forget.

and she did it fucking beautifully.

with every precise move, with every articulate angle you and satoru screamed and yelled like crazy people in front of the rink while waving around your countries tiny flags, cheering with fat tears rolling down your faces when she successfully landed each time, holding each other so tight with mushed up cheeks throughout her routine with her partner and still in anxiousness when the time came for revealing final scores.

no one could skate like her. absolutely no one as she speedily glided across the ice and spun, prepped herself for the hardest most impressive turns you had ever seen in your life, and performed a quadruple axel rotation in the air all on her own— things that have always earned her the highest scores for three successive olympic years.

and four now— because when akira and her partner stepped up on that podium, you and satoru had to basically be yanked back by your mothers with the way you both tried to jump over the edge of the rink to her, her standing there like a beacon of light on the first place podium, a gold medal hung rightfully around her neck with flowers in her arms as she smiled so so big and happily, her eyes not once leaving you and satoru.

eventually when the ceremony was over, amongst all of the buzz and the crowd roaring and picture taking— akira quickly skated over to the two of you and leaned on the edge of the rink.

“akiiii!” you both wailed and flung your arms around her neck, her giggling and hugging you both back as best as she possibly could despite the mass amount of bouquets in her hands.

“did i do okay?!” she yelled over the noise.

you both pulled back and looked at her like she was insane.

“did you do okay?!” you gawked.

“aki— you won a fucking gold medal!” satoru yelled.

“HAH!” she laughed loudly. “don’t say that word in front of your mommy satoru she’ll chop my head off and kill me!”

you both giggled uncontrollably.

akira leaned her head in then and you and satoru followed through, all three foreheads resting against each others.

“listen to me for a second.“ she started. “you guys are birds of a feather, okay? you need to stick together and fly together as one.”

she let you both go and dropped the bouquets she was holding on the icy floor before placing a hand on yours and satoru’s outer cheeks, bringing you in. “don’t fight. don’t separate. don’t leave each other. you need to keep each other and what you have safe.”

you both quickly nodded, tears funnily gathering at the corners of your eyes at what she was saying, and she smiled.

“yes partner figure skating is about chemistry and technicality, but it’s about love… and sometimes just that. without genuine love, nothing will click.” she let your cheeks go and grabbed her shiny gold medal, holding it up. “this will be yours. i promise you.”

akira put down her medal, wiping both yours and satoru’s wet cheeks. “birds of a feather. stick together. keep each other safe. do you understand?”

the two of you sniffled and nodded.

“and i need to stop cussing in front of you guys during practices, don’t i?!” she smiled warmly, and you and satoru shook your heads frantically.

“no keep doing it!—”

“it’s funny please!—”

ever since akira told you that, it became you and satoru’s thing.

before and after every competition, with every hello and every goodbye at the beginning and end of the day, throughout the hours randomly whenever you both felt like it, you’d lock pinkies and reiterate ‘birds of a feather’ before kissing your thumbs and locking your promise in place— another one of the many other ways you’d show that you loved each other.

but whether it was platonically or romantically remained unknown until you both hit high school.

perhaps it had always been romantically… that you weren’t exactly sure of. but the way you and satoru had been treating each other since you were literally the age of six, made the technicalities of what it was blurry and a little confusing— for you couldn’t even remember when it was that you started loving satoru.

maybe it was that very first day when he skated over to you, wobbly and clumsy with a cheesy smile.

and as if it wasn’t already confusing enough of what the two of you were, the way you acted made it ten times worse.

but you’d been that way since forever— embracing each other a little longer than you should, innocently kissing each others cheeks and heads and hands, calling each other pet names and being each other’s dates to every single school dance—

but it was all harmless. not a single bad thought behind it and doing it like a reflex.

it was like you both were line balancing across the thinnest tight rope known to mankind— flimsy and unsteady, always on the verge of toppling over and falling completely into the darkening depths of the truth of what you were, but catching each other just before you did to regain balance back on the rope.

neither of you said it, but if you and satoru ever dared to be anything more than friends, and if something were to happen where you had to break up— you’d lose your first love, your best friend, and your entire career all in one.

the consequences were too drastic— you both knew that.

and you didn’t want to break your promise… so you acted blind to it.

by the time you were seventeen and satoru was eighteen, akira started training you for the international skating union competition to earn a spot for the olympics.

well— she actually started when you were about fourteen, but as the years progressed, her coaching and critiques got increasingly more difficult and nitpicky as well as the moves she taught you, wanting you both to build endurance to it and perfect it so that by the time you reached the age requirement for the olympics— it would be easier to train for it and be formidable competitors against the other pairs.

you and satoru wanted to be olympians more than anything else in your lives, and akira knew just how important this was for the both of you— making it her absolute mission to help accomplish solely that as she saw herself through the two of you.

your dreams were just like hers, and she respected and nurtured the fact with everything that she had.

“up! aaand up! and take her— throw— land oh shit—”

just as you had landed a semi complex throw jump, you lost balance and landed right on your ass, sliding across the ice on your side.

it was rare when you fell, and you absolutely despised when you did.

“fuck!” satoru quickly skated over to you and knelt down. “are you okay?!”

“why can’t i land that man?” you whined, covering your eyes.

akira smoothly traveled over to you both.

“it’s okay! we just learned it today sweets like— right now… you’ll have it down in the next five minutes.” satoru smiled softly, carefully helping you up on your skates and checking you over.

“don’t overly punish yourself, y/n.” akira reached and pinched your cheek. “i love that you’ve always been so serious about your technique, but you have to leave room for error my love or else you’ll choke yourself out.”

satoru ran a soothing hand along your back and you smiled cutely up at him, his heart jittering so much from it that he had to quickly retract his arm.

you nodded, always taking satoru’s and akira’s words seriously like inscriptions to a stone wall. “okay!”

he grinned and kissed the side of your head before taking your hand and leading you to first position like always.

akira smirked.

“are you guys together yet!” she blurted from across the ice and you both choked as she skated over.

“are we— are we—” you stammered.

“what?” she breathed out, placing her hands on her hips. “are you at least in love?”

satoru’s blue eyes bulged open with a furious pink tint to both of your cheeks.

“aki!” you whined, embarrassed. “stop it—”

“have you guys at least gone on one date?”

satoru pouted. “no.”

“i’m—” you played with your fingers. “i’m going on one today—”

“you’re what?!” he whipped his head in your direction, eyebrows furrowed.

“yeah…” you looked at him. “i’ve never gone on one and some guy at school asked me so i— i just thought—”

you thought it’d do you some good, since the one you wanted you couldn’t really have.

“are you actually..?” satoru trailed off, an unfamiliar strike of something in his chest making him a little upset.

but he knew damn well what it was.

“but—” akira stared at you wide eyed, pointing at satoru. “but it’s— it’s supposed to be—”

“aki!” satoru quickly grabbed her arm and lowered it, eyes snapping to you next. “is it that one guy you told me about? from your english class?”

“uh huh.” you fidgeted. “he asked me again and i felt bad saying no so i— said yes…”

satoru swallowed, nodding.

“oh you big dummies!” akira groaned. “we’ll talk about this later or else i’m gonna go into fucking cardiac arrest from frustration—”

she skated off to the edge of the rink and out, leaning on it from the outside with her head dramatically hung.

you both got into starting position, but you faltered when you noticed satoru was oddly quiet and stiff.

“…toru?”

he blinked down at you. “huh?”

“you okay?”

“oh!— yeah.” he smiled weakly. “i’m fine baby.”

“you sure—”

“what time is your date?”

you gnawed at the inside of your cheek. “it’s a bit after this... i told him to just give me time to shower and get ready.”

“if he can’t accept you stinky then he’s not for you.” he shook his head in distaste. “he’s already failing in my eyes sweets absolutely flunking. maybe you should cancel it? yeah i say cancel it—”

you laughed, heart in your throat as your eyes gleamed up at him. “i can barely accept you stinky so i wouldn’t blame him—”

“hey!” he placed an exaggerated hand on his chest. “it’s not my fault i literally put my heart and soul out on the ice just for you to skate all over me—”

you gasped offendedly. “i don’t skate all over you—”

“do too!”

“do not!”

“do to—”

“you guys!” akira called. “you know i love it when you guys love on each other it makes me so happy and envision your wedding but right now we have to grind!”

you both froze up and snapped your heads in her direction with red faces, whining.

“aakkiii!—”

you practiced what you had of the routine a couple of more times, a few new moves and jumps added after each run until akira called it a day upon noticing you and satoru were practically sweating your asses off and messing up several times out of exhaustion.

“good job today you guys!” she smiled, patting you both on your shoulders. “i feel like the next time we meet we’ll have the choreography down... from there we just need to perfect it and you should be good for the next competish, okay?”

you both nodded and thanked her, sweet smiles on your faces as she reached up and pinched a side of both your cheeks.

“my little babies.” she cooed. “oh how you’ve grown! you guys were so little when we started now satoru is huge man jesus christ—”

she lifted her hand and reached up to measure satoru’s height from his forehead, her passing it over the top of her head and eyes widening at the huge gap.

he laughed and puffed up his chest. “i got big and strong too aki see?” he flexed an arm. “see? eh?”

“that you did!” she laughed brightly, ruffling up his hair. “the strongest.”

you giggled and skated over to the edge of the rink to pack up, internally panicking a little that you guys went overtime and it was almost time for your date.

“satoru..” akira whispered, looking over her shoulder to make sure you weren’t listening. “what’s going on? you still haven’t asked her out? i thought you said you were gonna do it.”

“no..” he mumbled. “but we can’t. and she knows that too so— so what am i supposed to do—”

she gawked. “do you not see what’s happening?! she’s gonna go on a date with someone else! off with this stupid fear you guys have already seriously.”

“we caan’tt aki.” he pushed sadly. “it’s too risky.”

“but it’s not though!” she threw her arms out. “you guys have known each other since practically birth i feel like if it wasn’t meant to be you would’ve separated by now!”

satoru gnawed at his bottom lip in thought, eyes trained to the way your bows moved in your hair as you swung your duffel bag over yourself, smiling softly once he realized you had kindly packed his things for him too as you sat on the bench and waited for him to take you home.

akira sighed.

“it’s not my place to tell you guys what to do… but love has no limits. you know that.”

he nodded, smiling weakly at her as they skated out of the rink and prepared to lock up, akira hugging you both goodbye with a family kiss to your cheeks and you separating ways with her for the day, but not before her reminding you guys of practice tomorrow and that she loved you over her shoulder.

satoru was dreading you going on your date as he drove— the both of you normally talking about random things like always but his mind unable to stray from the fact that you were actually giving some random dingbat a chance.

it was rare when either of you would talk to or date other people, never even as your heads have always been so focused on figure skating and competitions… but also on each other— taking care and loving one another that you never needed anybody else since you were everything to satoru and satoru to you, and you were both confident that absolutely no one could ever step up to that level.

so why were you going on a date?

but he shouldn’t be like this. he knew that. there was a silent agreement between the two of you to never fall off that thin tight rope and keep each other balanced. and you were allowed to see and date whoever you wanted— something that he probably should do as well to try and get over the fact that you’d never really be his.

satoru pulled up to your driveway and shifted his gear into park.

“thank you toru!” you smiled sweetly, leaning over and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“you’re welcome.” he murmured. “can i— can i come in with you? and hang while you get ready?”

you quirked a brow. “i thought that’s what we were already doing silly.”

“okay well invite me woman!” you both got out of the car and walked up the steps to your front door. “you can’t just assume. what if i was busy? what if i also had a date? hm?”

you gave him a sly grin as you twisted in your keys to unlock the door. “do you?”

“… no.”

you giggled and pushed open the door, the both of you immediately clasping your hands over your mouths to keep your laughs in at the sight of your mother sprawled out on the couch dead asleep with drool coming out of her mouth, the tv softly playing in the background as you quietly shut the door, went up the stairs and into your room.

satoru sat on your desk chair lazily while you quickly hopped in the shower to get ready for your stupid date, staring at the framed photographs on your nightstand that all consisted of you and him over the years, smiling softly at his favorite— a picture of the two of you when you were babies, cheek to cheek with huge smiles at the park as you held ice cream cones in each of your hands, satoru more than sure akira was the one who took that picture.

the sound of your door clicking shut pulled him from his thoughts as you walked in, drying your pretty hair with your little fuzzy towel and throwing it in the hamper once you were done.

“oh! i was gonna show you! i got these ribbons the other day—” you got down on your knees and looked under your bed, sticking a hand in and pulling out a white box as you picked it up and shuffled with your knees closer to satoru— sitting back on your ankles.

“—i was running out of ribbon so i got these!” you held up the box and satoru took it, examining the various pastel colors with warm eyes. “some of them are polka dotted and i thought that was cute.”

“it is sweets!” he agreed.

satoru loved the ribbons in your hair, and you’d always wear them without fail because you knew just how much he did.

“i wanna start wearing bows too.” he wiggled his eyebrows, and you giggled.

“are you saying you wanna steal my brand toru?” you picked up a blue roll of ribbon from the box, a color that matched satoru’s eyes. “thought you were an honest man?”

he gasped. “i am an honest man! is it not obvious enough when i help you with your math homework? when i sacrifice my dignity and text you answers during your tests?”

you giggled and unrolled a strand of ribbon. “not when you eat all of my sweets that you actively dig through my room for—”

“but they’re always the strawberry gummy puffs!” he whined. “they make me a slut.”

you playfully rolled your eyes and stood, grabbing your little scissors and snipping off a piece of blue ribbon from the roll, stepping in front of satoru and leaning.

“watcha doing?” he asked, placing his hands on your waist.

“i’m putting a little bow in your hair before i leave!”

he hummed. “don’t think it’ll look as good on me as they do on you.”

you blushed, taking little pieces of white hair from the top of his head and wrapping the ribbon around, tying it the same way you’ve been doing for yourself since you were the age of nine.

you took a step back once you were finished and laughed. “you look cute toru!”

he raised a silly brow. “do i still look big and strong?”

“big and strong and pretty—”

“please don’t go.”

you stilled.

“what?”

satoru looked down, his bangs hiding his gorgeous eyes as he did.

“on your date.” he mumbled. “don’t go.”

you placed your hands softly on his shoulders, and his hold tightened a little around your waist.

“why?”

“because like i said if he doesn’t accept you stinky then he can’t have you when you smell like vanilla—”

“toru...” you spoke sternly, softly. “why not?”

you didn’t know why you were pushing it so much… maybe you were trying to see if you could get it out of him— if he had the will to actually say it unlike you…

and you hoped to god he would say it.

he slowly lifted his head and propped his chin up on your tummy, a sour expression on his face as he puckered his lips to the side like a little fish.

“dunno…” he muttered, his gaze flickering to yours and a sense of guilt swarming his chest at the uneasy look you had, his face relaxing as he sighed.

“sorry.” he smiled sheepishly, pulling back and letting go of your waist. “i’m kidding you have every right to—”

“m’not going.” you mumbled as you slid your hands away, looking down and playing with your fingers.

“huh?” he furrowed his brows. “no baby go you should go—”

“i don’t want to.”

you never did in the first place. you had foolishly thought that letting someone else in like this would be good for you and help you establish some sort of… barrier with satoru so you weren’t always suffering so fucking much.

but you were absolutely stupid for that.

all you’ve ever wanted was satoru, and doing something to pull you away from the type of relationship you had with him (whether platonic or romantic you had no freaking clue), was not only hurting you, but hurting him.

you didn’t need anyone else, truly. all you needed was satoru and his silly smile and dramatic antics— to spend time with just him and skate and eat dinner together after practices every night while watching horror movies, laughing so much over his screams that your stomach hurt while he whined about how you were making fun of him.

that’s all you needed… just satoru.

regardless if there was something more in question.

“you don’t want to?” he repeated softly. “why?”

“you know why, toru…”

you had said it so softly he barely caught it, but he did, his breath hitching in his throat.

that was the closest you two had ever gotten to acknowledging it.

you both were silent for a moment, the soft murmur of your tv downstairs filling the void as you looked at each other, tense and waiting for either of you to say something… anything.

but it was like the gravity of the foreseeable consequences settled onto your shoulders, and the pair of you could only sadly smile.

satoru stuck his pinky finger out towards you then.

“birds of a feather?” he murmured.

you breathed out a little through your nose and looped your pinky with his, nodding.

“birds of a feather.”

he kissed his thumb and you did the same before locking the promise.

for the rest of the night, you and satoru watched a bunch of shitty unknown movies to try and see who would break and laugh first— you feeling bad that you had to cancel so last minute on that guy from your english class, but not regretting it at all as you watched satoru scarf down two slices of pizza in one sitting and nearly throw up, you almost falling off the bed from laughing so much and him having to catch you midway down and pull you back up, saying that he was your hero and therefore you should give him your last stash of strawberry gummy puffs as a reward.

it was nearly two am when you and satoru finally settled down, both sprawled over each other on the bed as you stared up at the ceiling and talked about literally anything that came to your minds— stubbornly fighting off sleep for whatever unknown reason in the dark.

“you know this is aki’s last olympics right?” you spoke softly, your arm propped up as you watched the way satoru played with your fingers.

“yeah..” he replied. “i don’t really know how to feel about that.”

“me neither.” you shook your head. “but she said it came at a perfect time because she’d been wanting to retire for a while.”

and now it was yours and satoru’s turn to try and fill the legacy she had built.

he hummed, delicately interlacing your fingers together as the outline of it through the darkness made you blush and smile, the nooks between his digits blessedly made entirely just for you as your fingers slotted perfectly in each spot every time.

and satoru silently vowed for the millionth time in his life that he would always be your hero and keep you safe, a promise that was already tied into your birds of a feather contract, but needing to repeat it to himself anyways while he listened to the sound of your voice talk about your excitement for the upcoming olympics.

and my god were you excited, the both of you— looking forward to seeing akira gracefully take home her fifth fucking gold medal like she always did with no repercussions, seeing her fans and the mass amounts of support she got every year with bouquets and teddy bears and picture taking, but also looking forward to spending even more time with her— for not just practices… but for forever, even more than you already did now as you two were greedy and just loved akira.

you were looking forward to forever, the three of you.

until akira’s accident.

“oh my god i’m gonna throw up—”

satoru hurled over just as you both stepped onto the bleachers at the olympic arena, you laughing and placing supporting hands on his shoulders as you followed your mother and satoru’s to your designated place by the front.

“toru i told you you’d make yourself sick if you didn’t leave that damn dessert table alone.”

“there were cinnamon rolls baby. cinnamon rolls how on earth could i possibly just walk by a platter of cinnamon rolls—”

“okay!” you giggled, carefully leading him to sit down and ruffling his hair once you settled. “i get it! you love cinnamon rolls.”

“not as much as i love you—”

“yuck!” you stuck your tongue out and pushed him away by his cheek, him laughing loudly as he shooed your arm away and grinned.

“toru— this is the last time we’re gonna be sitting here in the bleachers watching aki.” you mentioned. “isn’t that fucking nuts?”

“now i’m gonna cry and throw up.”

“no!” you giggled and nudged his shoulder. “then you’ll make me cry.”

he smiled and leaned over to plant a quick kiss to your cheek, reaching up and fixing the bows in your hair before looking straight ahead, his sparkling blue eyes staring at the rink.

the crowd roared suddenly and a mix of big and tiny flags of several individual countries waved in the air as you and satoru jumped and screamed when akira glided out with her skates and glittery dress, a huge dazzling smile on her face as she waved at the crowd, her eyes scanning around quickly before they finally landed on you and satoru.

as if she wasn’t already smiling enough, it grew bigger at the sight of you both practically over the fucking rink calling her name, her blowing you both a kiss and connecting her hands together to form a little bird, fluttering it up funnily and making you laugh before spinning around and going to starting position with her partner.

“oh she’s gonna wipe again.” satoru breathed out. “wipe absolute buttcheeks.”

you cackled as you both watched her routine— incredibly fast paced and technical, filled with spins and throw jumps and lifts as she made it known that it was her last year and wanted to leave with a mark, you and satoru absolutely mesmerized by the choreography as a dramatic symphony of a classical piece drummed through your ears by the speakers.

each move was executed beautifully, you and satoru at the edge of your damn seats as akira’s partner lifted her by the arms to settle over his shoulders into a split formation— halfway through the routine already.

“maybe we could do a move like that for when we compete!” you suggested over the music. “i feel like technically it could—”

a hand flew over your mouth as you watched akira topple and slam to the ground upon coming down from her split lift, the spinning blade of her partner slicing through her abdomen as her head nastily collided with the ice— the crowd screaming in terror.

“oh my god!—” your chest moved frantically and you and satoru looked at each other, horrified faces as you watched the backside of her limp body on the ground surrounded by paramedics, her partner hovering over her in complete and absolute distress.

and there was so much blood.

blood that pooled all around her figure and stained her shimmering dress, blood that wouldn’t stop fucking spreading as a stretcher finally made it out on the ice.

“baby.” satoru’s voice shook. “why isn’t aki moving.”

“i— i don’t know—”

“aki!”

you both snapped out of your shocked daze and screamed over the rink and jumped, shoes slipping against the ice as the two of you tried to reach her through your panicked tears and calls, security speeding through and pulling you both back as you watched the paramedics lift her frail body onto the stretcher and away from the rink.

“that’s—” you sucked in a sharp sob. “that’s my aunt please let us go—”

“you need to stay out of the rink—”

“fuck you!”

satoru shoved security away and grabbed your arm, wishing you had your skates on as you both practically crawled over to where akira was being carried out, not giving a single shit about the way your mothers yelling demanded you back as security had to literally pull you and satoru by the ankles, further and further away from the scene and away from akira until the only thing left was her pool of sickly crimson blood in front of you, you and satoru wailing.

akira died at the hospital later that night.

the collision of her head against the ice brought such blunt force trauma that it caused irreversible brain damage, and with the amount of blood that she was already losing from the laceration of the blade— those elements combined didn’t give her a single fighting chance at survival, her fate sealed from the moment her body hit the ground.

it was completely unexpected… an incident like that had never happened in not just olympic partner figure skating, but figure skating competitions as a whole— the severity of the situation so grave that the complex move akira and her partner performed that led to her death was banned from the olympics moving forward.

and you and satoru were fucking ruined.

ruined and crying and clutching over her arms and hands at her hospital bedside, it scaringly cold and stiff and not her usual warmth at all as you couldn’t accept that this was your reality, that akira had left you both all alone after not only her initial familial love that you’d gotten since birth, but after nearly a decade of giggles and skating, her picking you both up from school and cussing up a storm because it made you and satoru laugh as kids, buying you ice cream and taking you out for beach days because she said the sun was good for your skin, harassing you and taking a million pictures of the two of you as she uttered over and over again that love had no limits— your dream of forever with her cruelly severed over the sport you all loved most.

yours and satoru’s mentor, friend, your fucking mother figure— was gone.

your aunt was gone. your own blood.

the entirety of that bullshit situation sort of settled into your minds by the time her funeral came— painfully holding back tears as your family members gave their speeches and final wishes before the lowering of her casket, you and satoru not saying a single word throughout the entire thing until it was just you and him standing in front of her grave site— your mothers waiting for you in their cars.

you both chose not to give speeches. you couldn’t.

“toru.” you sniffled, drowning in your tears as satoru strained to keep his back, lips pulled into a thin line.

“yes pretty.”

“this is so fucked.”

satoru breathed out a weak laugh and let a couple of tears slip down his cheeks, wiping them with the sleeve of his black suit as he grabbed your hand and interlaced your fingers, squeezing it.

“diabolically fucked.” he responded.

there really wasn’t much you could say at that moment in time, the two of you staring at the carvings on her tombstone as the wind softly blew over the petals of her flowers and letters, the day cloudy and cold and just fucked as you silently choked back sobs and whimpers, satoru lamely trying his best to stay strong for you— be your hero as he pulled you into his chest and squeezed you with everything that he had, nose buried in your hair as his tears fell and dampened a few strands.

“birds of a feather, toru.” you spoke softly, both of your frames shaking as the saying itself came from none other than akira.

he firmly nodded, lifting his head and kissing your cheek twice hard before looking at you.

“birds of a feather sweets.” his red teary eyes made your heart ache. “you can’t leave me too, okay?”

you scoffed and wiped your eyes, a sad smile on your face. “i could never… you know that.”

it didn’t really get easier from there, as everything in your lives reminded you of akira.

and though your mother was grieving the loss of her sister, she wanted to be left alone, and the only person that really understood the level of mourning you were on was satoru— him always there in the blink of an eye when you would call him in the middle of the night crying your eyes out while he held you, or when broken sobs wrecked through satoru’s trembling body as he cried into your chest while you held him and vice versa, endless amounts of ‘i miss her’s’ and ‘bring her back’s’ as you took turns depending on the day rolling on the floor unable to physically breathe over the loss as you tried to anchor each other back to normalcy, wondering how the world could be so cruel and continue spinning when you’d just lost half of your hearts.

but it did. it continued to spin and turn and carry on as you and satoru day by day tried to patch over what happened, be there for each other and heal each other as you graduated high school and caught up with satoru in college, still together and still in your stupid limbo of ‘is there something more’ except worse, and still inseparable three years later after akira’s passing.

it didn’t hurt any less, but the days definitely got easier… some harder than others as the time you spent with her became cherished distant memories, feeling eternally grateful for the way she raised and took care of you, for the work she had done, and for the legacy she had built for figure skating olympians around the world.

and because akira was so good and taught you both just as so, satoru and you had a little name of your own as you’ve been sweeping competitions since the age of thirteen, ninety eight percent unbeatable and competitive as other pairs always knew who you were the minute you stepped onto the ice, eager and curious to see if you would make it into the olympics when the time came just like your mentor had done.

some deemed it cheating— unfair due to the fact that you had a four-time gold medalist olympian training you since childhood, but that assumption quickly diminished after her passing when you both continued to wipe competitions and take trophies home purely based on your talent.

and you both agreed to continue your careers without a coach, a decision that didn’t even need to be thought twice over— and you were twenty and satoru twenty one when the time drew near to try for the olympics.

finally.

“my legs are gonna fall off and my balls are gonna droop to the icy floor if you don’t give me a kiss right now.”

“toru!” you giggled loudly, pushing his face away as he puckered up his lips and made obnoxious kissy noises, pulling you in by the waist. “toru focus we’re on a time crunch—”

“time crunch where?” he whined, stomping his blade down on the ice. “we’ve been at it for so long already i’m cold i’m thirsty and i think we should go to that cute christmas festival patch thing you told me aboouuttt!”

“right now?” you asked. “i don’t know toru… i had a set goal for us tonight and if we don’t get it—”

“oh you damn perfectionist.” he scowled, letting you go and quickly skating to starting position. “fine.”

you gave him a knowing smile and skated over to his dramatic sulking figure, kissing his cheek softly and wringing your arms around his neck, pulling him in.

“let’s run it three more times and then we can go to the festival, okay?”

he jumped up like a little kid, eyes hyper and wild. “really? honestly? truly?”

you nodded, gleaming up at him.

“is this a prank?”

“jesus toru you’re making me think i’m keeping you hostage here with how excited you are—”

“yiiippeeeee!—” he grabbed your upper thighs and lifted you before spinning on the ice, the both of you laughing as he roughly turned until he gradually came to a stop, big goofy smiles on your faces as he did so.

satoru loosened his hold as you slowly slid down against his body, faces close and lovesick as his half lidded eyes looked at you, lips stinging to plant directly over yours after so many years of hopeless pining and avoidance, still refusing to acknowledge the situation, but it glaringly obvious at this point.

“what?” you whispered, your eyes fixed on his lips as your blades touched the ice again.

he softly shook his head, blue eyes greedily drinking in your pretty face as he retracted a hand from your waist and brushed his palm over your hair adoringly, hand raising to cup your cheek gently.

was he about to…?

you swallowed, hands gripping his black t-shirt as you waited… anxious, hoping that he would do what you thought he was about to do.

but satoru squeezed his eyes shut in a grimace and quickly kissed the corner of your mouth before turning his back to you and skating to starting position— leaving you incredibly dumbfounded and disappointed.

satoru’s skin felt like it was on fucking fire as he looked at your stunning doe eyes blinking at him from across the rink, heart pulsing uncontrollably as you slowly skated to him and got into position, neither of you uttering a word about it as you ran the choreography three more times like you had agreed on.

you and satoru have had plenty of moments like that… but lately?

it’s been borderline dangerous with how close you’ve gotten to breaking your unspoken rule.

by the end of practice you and satoru excitedly packed up for the christmas festival, more or less stumbling out of the doors of the rink and locking up before throwing your things in satoru’s car and speeding off to the main plaza, cheesy dorky smiles on your faces as you babbled on about all of the things you were gonna do once you got there.

“the s’mores stand! the s’mores stand!” satoru whipped his head comically back and forth between you and the snowy road. “we have to go there and get five nothing less and maybe more—”

“wait! i wanna get some of that hot chocolate we got last year!” you quickly reached and gripped his shoulder. “the one with the chocolate bits in it! and the whipped cream! and the drizzle—”

“oh fuck yeah how could i forget?” satoru made a turn, the shining glimmering lights of the festival and christmas trees coming into view and riling you both up in pure exhilaration. “i gulped down like four cups of those and then threw up in a bush.”

you laughed loudly and shook your head. “i forgot about thaaaattt! toru you always shove shit in your mouth and throw up we have got to work on that—”

“no we don’t!” he cheesed, reaching over and patting over your hair— the smooth ribbon of your thin bows sliding underneath his palm. “i love sweets even if they hurt me. what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. where there is no struggle there is no strength—”

“the only strength i see is a man hunched over puking his guts out.”

“hey!” he pouted, pulling into the lot before parking and turning off the ignition, the both of you hopping out of the car and locking it as you walked towards the main entrance. “and i’ll do it again so what.”

you giggled and interlocked your fingers with satoru’s. “silly silly.”

the festival was lively— huge decorated christmas trees everywhere you went as twinkling fairy lights adorned every corner and direction of the lots premises, several open stands that continuously wafted chocolate and cinnamon and vanilla throughout the entire night that had satoru practically floating through the air following the scent, kids giggling and running around as the soft familiar tunes of christmas music hummed in the background.

“what do you want for christmas, sweets?” satoru asked while chowing down a giant s’more.

“a kiss!” you quipped, giving him a cute silly look as you blew a bit of air over your steaming hot chocolate.

he stopped chewing.

“really?” satoru spoke with his mouthful. “i can literally give that to you right now c’mere—”

“no toru!” your cheeks buzzed a vibrant pink, completely flustered. “you’re supposed to say a big fat no!”

“now why the fuck would i do that...” he grumbled, shoulders slumping from disappointment as he took another big bite of his dessert.

you giggled, looking at him apologetically before standing on your tippy toes and licking a bit of melted chocolate from the corner of his mouth.

and he blinked at you, dumb and still as his cheeks copied the same exact shade as yours.

my god.

you were about to turn him into a freak.

“okay now you have to kiss me.”

“why?!” you laughed. “you had chocolate on your face! i was helping you out.”

“yeah right you little minx.” he scarfed down the last bit of his s’more and threw his little paper tray in the trash can behind him, putting his hands together and shaking off excess crumbs. “that’s actually the most torturous thing you have ever done to me.”

“dramatic!” you exclaimed, laughs escaping you and increasing as you watched satoru’s flustered face pout and glare at you.

you breathed in deeply and settled down, standing up straight as you took a tiny sip of your hot chocolate and smiled. “now i feel bad.”

“you should.”

“can you forgive me?”

“not unless you kiss me.”

“toru!”

“what?!” he pushed. “baby it’s only fair! really! just once and that’s it. a harmless peck nothing more we aren’t doing anything crazier.”

you gnawed at your bottom lip in thought.

technically he was right… it was just one little peck, entirely harmless and cute and wouldn’t have you both falling off of that thin tight rope you guys were still balancing off of.

this would only shake it a little… but then you’d be fine! right?

you were too far gone in the considerations of his proposal as you looked at his absolutely breathtaking blue eyes and face, somehow looking even more angelic as his pinky cold cheeks and nose and scarf covered neck did nothing but make you fall deeper in love with him than you already were.

how someone could look as good as satoru was beyond you.

“just—” you peered up at him. “just one peck okay?”

his eyes widened.

holy shit.

“yes!” he breathed out. “yes yes just one.”

“toru.” you spoke sternly. “i’m serious.”

he frantically nodded, arms already snaking around your waist and bringing you in.

you both couldn’t believe it.

you were about to have your very first kiss.

the two of you leaned in then— softly, timidly, afraid as satoru’s chocolate breath fanned against your nostrils and filled your lungs, lips coming closer and closer until they met in a simple, solid, tiny harmless peck.

satoru felt like his veins were about to pop and explode at the feeling of your delicate soft lips finally on his, the feeling actually fucking unreal as his fingertips went numb and his body tingled all over.

but it quickly became clear that it was not just one harmless peck.

because when it was supposed to be the time for you both to pull away, you and satoru only opened your mouths and kissed deeper— eyelids blissfully closed as your lips smacked so slowly and tenderly, the two of you actively relishing in the moment and just drinking each other’s mouths in as they moved and shifted, deep breaths through your noses as you daze-fully made out with the faint fuzzy sound of jingle bells and christmas music growing increasingly distant.

you tasted so sweet. just like he’d imagined.

but the moment came to and end when you both snapped your eyelids open in realization and released lips, pupils frantic and wide as you searched each other’s eyes for any sign of anger since you both had slipped up and did way more than just a peck.

but there was nothing. obviously there was nothing like that as your shoulders relaxed simultaneously and bashful smiles crossed your faces.

“you taste like chocolate.” he grinned.

you bit your bottom lip in a smile. “so do you.”

“twins.”

“uh huh.”

“i love you.”

you stilled.

you’ve told each other that thousands of times for years, since childhood.

you’ve always said you loved each other and have both known it was laced with those unspoken feelings you had, and you accepted that for as long as you could remember.

but somehow… in someway… it just felt different this time around. profound. more serious.

“i love you.” you responded.

satoru smiled softly and leaned his forehead against yours, basking in each others authentic infatuation for a moment before pulling away.

“can i get another s’more—”

“no!”

satoru ended up getting his second s’more, and you surprisingly ended up partaking in satoru activities and downed three fucking cups of that hot chocolate you loved so much, your tummy full and about to literally burst, but not really giving a shit as you and him were having so much freaking fun— buying little christmas trinkets from the santa shop and building tiny snowmen in the snowy play area filled with a bunch of kids (satoru literally making a tiny dick for one of the snowman and you immediately destroying it and wacking him), even skating in the rink but purely just for enjoyment and not a single thought of what you do professionally crossing your minds.

you stayed there until it was nearly closing time, money absolutely spent from all the things you bought, but your souls happy and warm as you happily walked to the car so satoru could take you home.

on the drive there, you showcased all of the trinkets you both had bought, a particular one catching your eye that you remembered you hadn’t shown satoru yet.

“oh! i got this one—” you dug your hand in the white plastic bag and pulled out a little snow angel, beautiful and glossy as the angels face blushed and smiled. “at the santa shop!”

“it’s cute baby!” he smiled. “for you?”

you shook your head. “i got it for aki. for the next time we visit her.”

his heart softened, nodding.

you and satoru tried your best to visit her grave as often as you possibly could, sometimes nearing four times a week to pay your respects and chat with her for a little while, filling her in a bit on your lives to bring back the feeling of what it was like to just talk to her in any way you could, like you had the fortune of doing once before.

“it kinda looks like her.. doesn’t it?” he questioned, pointing to the figure.

“it does right!” you expressed. “that’s why i got it… it reminded me of her.”

“she’ll love it.” he grinned, gently running the pad of his finger against your cold cheek before turning his attention back to the road.

you and satoru didn’t mention the kiss again as you were funnily still in shock over it, but the butterflies in your stomachs and the sole memory of it did more than enough as you climbed into bed with an already snoring satoru, him sleeping over for the night (when was he not) as you nudged your way under his arm and cuddled yourself in his chest, his slumbered state pulling you in like muscle memory.

you both only had two more practices left before the international skating union competition. once there, you and satoru had to land a spot in the top three chosen by the national olympic committee to earn an official spot in competing for the olympics, a task that was already vigorous and exhausting and nerve wracking, but one you both were more than ready for.

general admittance to competing in the olympics was essentially fourteen years in the making, one that wouldn’t have been possible in the first place if it wasn’t for akira.

“i think we should add a spin to this lasso lift.” you suggested, you and satoru taking a break from running the routine and standing by the bleachers during practice— watching a recently recorded take of your choreography to point out mistakes that flew under your radars.

“a spin?” he asked. “how sweets.”

“so when you lasso me around into the lift—” you rewinded the video and pointed. “since you’re holding me up over your head and we’re balancing with our hands, i say you maybe push me up to kind of like— propel me to do a triple rotation spin back down.”

“and then from there i catch you?”

“yeah!” you nodded. “and we’re traveling across the ice.”

satoru pursed his lips. “that’s kind of hard… you sure?”

“we’ve done worse toru.” you laughed. “i feel like this would give us more points.”

“oh it definitely would.” he nodded. “okay baby.”

“yay!” you cheered. “let’s practice the lift and propel on the mats first because if not i’m gonna eat shit.”

satoru laughed and sat down on the bleachers with you, quickly taking off his skates before standing and kneeling in front of you, untying your laces and slipping your skates off for you as you cutely smiled, him feeling like your little hero and knight in shining armor even if it was for something so minuscule.

he loved doing things for you.

in the middle of you and satoru practicing the move on the mats, your mother came in through the front doors of the ice rink.

“hi!” she greeted, holding up two wide rectangular boxes. “your costumes came in!”

“oh thank god!” you breathed out, satoru setting you down on your feet before you both ran to see. “i thought they weren’t gonna come in on time!”

“are they cool?!” satoru tumbled out. “do they scream please let me in the olympics?!”

you snorted and shoved his shoulder playfully as you unwrapped your boxes, your eyes shining in delight at the sight of your rhinestoned pale baby blue dress, a shade you purposefully picked out as it matched the color of satoru’s eyes— you lifting it with your fingertips from the box and gushing.

you turned it around and held it up against your frame as satoru pulled his top out— a white, tight long sleeved low cut v-neck button up that you already knew was gonna hug his yummy biceps so good, the thought of it making you bite the inside of your cheek as he checked over his black slacks.

your mother clasped her hands together, holding it to her mouth as her eyes gleamed over the two of you.

“i can’t believe it’s happening now.” she spoke softly, you and satoru diverting your attention to her and smiling. “for so long it was always just a distant thing you know? but now it’s here. actually.”

“fuck i know right.” you responded.

“language, y/n.”

“but i’m twenty!” you whined, pouting as satoru snickered behind you.

your mother rolled her eyes and cupped yours and satoru’s chins under her hands.

“good luck next week, alright? i know you guys will sweep.” she pushed. “make aki proud.”

the smiles on your faces grew, nodding as she squeezed your chins and released.

“oh! satoru—” your mother picked up her jacket and swung her purse over her shoulder. “your mom won’t be home for the night her trip got extended until tomorrow… you can sleep over at our house if you want so you’re not over there alone? or y/n can stay with you?”

“oh okay!” he spoke kindly. “thank you for letting me know!”

she smiled and nodded, hugging you both goodbye before leaving the rink.

your head whipped in his direction.

“toru if i sleep over at your house we can watch horror movies and actually scream as loud as we want without worrying about waking anybody up.”

his eyes bulged open. “oh my god you’re right! dibs i get to choose—”

“fuck!—”

by the end of practice you and satoru mastered the addition you added into the lasso lift, performing it beautifully on the ice over and over again until it was like simple reflex, calling it a day after a while and packing your things up to drive to satoru’s house.

you both took turns stepping in the shower to get rid of the sticky sweat that lingered on your skin, changing into comfy pajamas after as you tiredly settled in satoru’s big comfy bed— him flicking through his selection of horror movies and debating which one to pick.

“do you wanna watch something gory or just horror.”

“gory!” you perked up. “i need to work on not being so queasy.”

“but you seem fine when i throw up?”

“that’s because i’m used to it.” you laughed, head resting on his shoulder as he picked a movie and threw his remote somewhere across the bed, his arm coming to wrap around your tummy and pull you in.

it wasn’t like the selection mattered anyways, because fifteen minutes into the movie you were already falling asleep, hand resting on satoru’s torso as he continued to watch it— for some reason still wide awake even after skating for hours.

your sleepy sudden movements from your hand made him weirdly stiffen and relax every single time, your brows furrowing at the feeling and eyes fluttering open when he wouldn’t stop doing it.

“toru… are you still ticklish?” you mumbled sleepily.

he stiffened again.

“no.” he answered softly. “why..?”

you lazily grinned.

“youuu suureee?”

terror struck him as he sensed exactly what the fuck you were about to do.

“please spare me please spare me—”

you jumped on him and tickled his entire upper body, satoru laughing and gasping as he smacked your hands away and twisted and turned, his strong grip making it hard for you to tickle him at one point as you stubbornly swung a leg over his waist and settled over his lap, attacking him while he yelped and screamed.

“baby!” he gasped. “baby please! have some mercy is this how much i mean to you?!”

you giggled and finally stopped, hands retracting as you settled them on your hips. “that’s what you get for lying to me.”

“i was lying for my safety.”

“uh huh.”

you both grinned, satoru’s eyes occasionally flickering down to you straddling his lap with your pretty plushy thighs and blushing, trying to keep his gaze on yours to refrain himself from doing something a little too mental and weird.

but it was too fucking late, because it took no time at all for the blood to rush to his pathetic dick and harden.

surprisingly though, you were the one that was mental— the feeling of his cock against your clit undeniable as the uncomfortable shifts of satoru’s waist only stimulated it against your little nub and made you bite down hard on your bottom lip, shaky breaths leaving your mouth as it was getting harder and harder for you to restrain yourself from satoru’s godlike existence.

and your body was just not listening as you timidly rolled your hips over his crotch— your short shorts criminally thin as you felt just how big satoru’s length was, mouth watering as your palms timidly settled over his chest for stability, grinding on his cock harder.

satoru’s eyes were blown out as he watched you do something so— so lewd, his mind wandering if you were fully and properly there as something like this was absolutely breaking your unspoken rule, and you were more strict about it than he was.

but he didn’t want you to stop. god no.

at this point, you and satoru were off that metaphorical tight rope and hanging on by two hands— having both failed at keeping each other balanced as you rolled and rolled your hips deliciously on his dick, his chest quickly rising and falling at the feeling of your warm pussy over his groin and at the sight of you using him to get yourself off.

your little needy mewls made his hands tremble as he threw his head back on the pillow, eyes pathetically fucked out over something so simple.

“fuck me..” satoru groaned, hands coming up to rub over his face as his hips lifted to meet your grinding.

him doing that broke you out of your haze and you stiffened, satoru taking his hands away from his face with pinched brows at the sudden halt.

what happened?

“okay!” you laughed nervously, an alarmed expression as you swung your leg off of his lap and scrambled under the covers, pulling it completely over you as you shamefully looked anywhere and everywhere but satoru.

but he was out of it.

undoubtedly out of it now that you did what you did… wanting more, wanting all of you as he snatched the covers off of your frame and you squeaking as a result.

“why’d you stop.” he whispered, thumb raising to trace your bottom lip.

“i don’t— i don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“yes you do—”

“absolutely not—”

“i want you.” he cut you off. “i want you bad and i know you want me too so let’s just— let’s just do this once, okay? once please just to see what it’s like and it’ll never happen again.”

your eyes remained wide as you looked at his desperate frantic ones, his hands already kneading at your waist and thighs.

he was entrancing you into his proposal again, exactly the same way as when you both kissed for the first time at the festival as he leaned down and nibbled at your jaw, slotting himself in between your legs.

“do— do what?”

“fuck.” he mumbled, rolling his hips down on your pussy rough and you gasping at the sensation of his big cock against your clit again.

you whimpered as he rutted into you, hands flying to squeeze his biceps as his wet mouth moved down to your neck, licking and gnawing as he waited for your response.

“but isn’t that—” you stifled a moan. “isn’t that too far toru?—”

“please baby please.” he picked his head up and looked at you. “just once i swear once so we see what it’s like and get it out of our systems and never do it again. i promise.”

he needs to kiss you right fucking now.

your eyes fluttered closed as he continued to hump you, licking your lips as you weakly tried to look into his eyes.

“you swear?” you breathed out. “swear it just once and that’s it—”

“i swear i swear i swear—”

“okay then fuck me toru please—”

satoru nearly cried as he ripped himself away from you to frantically pull off his shirt and pants, him slapping your hands away when you tried to take off your own clothes as he wanted to do it himself— lifting your shirt over your head and downright tearing your shorts in half as he flung them down and across the room, your little pink bra and panties set actually turning him into a complete mess as he hovered back over you and shoved his tongue in your mouth.

you still tasted just as sweet as he remembered.

“been dreaming of—” mmpf— “kissing you since you let me, sweets.”

“yeah?” your lips moved sloppily with his as you snuck a hand in your panties and dipped your fingers in your pussy, collecting your arousal. “you missed me toru?”

“uh huh.” he breathed hotly against your lips, hand coming to slide underneath your bra to cup your bare tit. “every fucking night i’d jerk my dick dry thinking about it.”

his words made your clit twitch as you pushed him off your lips.

“open your mouth.”

satoru did as told without a peep and opened it with his tongue out, your hands coming out from your panties as you reached up and slipped your fingers in his mouth, his lips closing in and sucking everything you had to give him as he salvaged up your arousal.

“fuck—” he released your fingers. “is this from your pussy baby?”

“mhm.” you moaned.

your arousal was even sweeter.

“my god—” he grabbed your wrist and licked a long stripe up your palm. “you dirty fucking thing m’gonna have to taste for myself and see.”

you gasped. “what?”

satoru sat up and pulled your wet panties down your legs, biting down on his tongue hard at the sight of your angelic bare cunt before him, slick and shiny and pretty as you unclasped your bra and spread your legs for him— eager and ready and not a single other thought in your brain besides the one that was screaming for satoru to stick his dick inside you.

“toruuuu!” you whined. “quit staring and fuck me.”

his cock pulsed.

“patience sweets, i wanna taste you first.”

you expected satoru to just lower himself down and shove his head in between your thighs, but you were dead fucking wrong as he stood, grabbed your waist and yanked you high up, sitting you on his shoulders as you squealed and gripped his hair.

“wait toru isn’t this uncomfortable i—”

he scoffed. “fuck no. i’ve been lifting you my whole life baby this is nothing.”

your speech lodged itself in your throat as you felt his tongue lap at your folds and clit, slobbering and filthy as he ate and scarfed you down just like his usual daily sweets, you by far his absolute favorite as he slurped your little pussy up and made you squeal and moan.

satoru walked over to the wall and leaned you up against it, taking your thighs off of his shoulders and placing his hands underneath as he propped you up and spread your legs wider, your jaw dropping at his slimy tongue flicking and him slabbering his mouth side to side rapidly until your legs shook and you saw stars.

“toru—”

he grunted, tongue prodding at your hole and you jumping.

“i think— i think i’m gonna cum and i—” pant “i don’t wanna—”

satoru separated his mouth from your pussy with a squelch and looked up, smiling big.

“too bad!”

“but—”

he spit on your cunt and you gasped.

“i said too bad.”

he dipped back in and fully devoured you as you mewled, messier as he slushed his tongue all over and you’d never experienced something like this, something that felt so fucking good as you started cumming all over his face in record speed regardless of how hard you were trying to hold back.

“yummy.”

he let go and you dropped down as he quickly caught you, turning and throwing you on his bed as he climbed over you— wrapping a hand around his cock and jerking as he kissed and swallowed your lips up again.

“you want me to make love to you or fuck you?” he slopped against your mouth before pulling back, yours and his eyes fluttering open to look at each other.

your legs were still shaking by the eat out he gave you seconds before, finding it hard to get your words together as his handsome deluded face stared at you.

“i— um—”

he placed his lips next to your ear.

“you want me to fuck you like my wife or fuck you like a little slut? or both?”

“both toru please—”

he grinned, coming back up as he parted your legs further open and lined his leaky tip with your hole.

“i can do both!”

satoru pushed himself in and you choked, hands clasping over your mouth as you felt him bully his big cock through and leave you a blabbering crying mess under him— his chest heaving at the warmth and softness and stickiness of your cute gummy walls, his years of imagining and theorizing how you’d feel wrapped around his dick all completely debunking themselves at the real feeling as you whimpered and clenched your hole.

“jesus christ—” he shivered, swallowing thickly as his trembling fingers settled on your waist, him slowly reeling his hips back before pumping in. “you’re— you’re warm.”

you dropped your hands and wiped your cheeks as you hiccuped, the feeling of his dick sliding in and out of your walls incandescently euphoric as you embarrassingly already felt yourself wanting to cum again when he had just stuck his dick inside of you— you wanting to ride out this moment for a bit longer and not finish so quickly like you had done on his mouth.

“am i being too mean pretty?” he huffed, thrusts now quick and curt as he gripped your bouncing tits and pinched your perking nipples, the sight of your little tears shamefully turning him on.

you frantically shook your head and tried to clear your brain. “n—no!—”

“good.” he smiled, a little crazed as he let go of your boobs, placed his hands on the backside of your thighs and pushed your knees up to your chest, picking up speed as you squealed and whimpered, utterly taken aback by how rough satoru was being considering the fact that he was such a goofy and kind and loving person on the daily.

oh… what years worth of pent up sexual frustration can do to a man.

satoru whined as you milked his dick, wheezing as he hammered his hips up and slapped against your skin, your body jolting and bouncing uncontrollably as his bed squeaked loud and obnoxiously.

thank god his mother wasn’t home.

“i’ve wanted this i’ve wanted this i’ve wanted this—” satoru babbled, his critical thinking out the fucking window as he just tumbled out totally random but honest confessions as your ears eagerly drank up every word and made your hole tighten.

“yeah?” pant “f—for how long baby?”

“for so long—” he whined loudly, fucking you faster as your mouth hung open and you gripped his wrists for support. “you’re everything i’ve ever w—wanted—”

“i— i’ve only ever wanted you toru— fuck! you’re big.“ you moaned, loving the way a huge deranged smile spread across his face as his hips pistoned into you and his hands pinned you down.

“cum on my dick baby please cum on my dick i want it i want it—”

your toes curled and you squealed, vision flashing white as you let out a high pitched scream at the intense buzzing feeling, your bodies hot and sticky and wet as satoru leaned over and shoved his lips in your ear.

“can i— can i cum inside?” he choked through gritted teeth as he came close to spilling his seed. “please i wanna cum inside—”

“but m’not on the pill—”

“please please baby i beg you—” hah! “i don’t wanna cum anywhere else—”

your eyes fluttered shut at his words and you quickly nodded, his hand cupping your face as he thrusted in one last time and pumped his cum entirely inside you without an ounce of hesitation for the consequences, his horny mind actually crazed and solidifying that there was no fucking way in hell he was gonna accept just friends from this point forward.

what a stupid thought.

“mmm…” you slowly moved your hips a little, feeling his cum all inside your ravished walls as you licked your lips. “your cum feels hot toru.”

not even warm, hot as it slushed and moved inside you with every movement you made, some of it dribbling and coating your outer folds as you bit your bottom lip into a smile and craned your head up to his neck, nibbling and giving satoru tiny kitten licks as he trembled and struggled to stay afloat and not give out his upper arm strength— trying to prevent himself from squishing you.

satoru pressed a soft tender kiss to your cheek then before sitting up and delicately sliding his dick out, running a soothing hand over your tummy as he did so and giving you a lazy smile.

he suddenly raised his pinky to you.

“birds of a feather?” he murmured, other hand running from your stomach over to your thighs now as he just lovingly felt you up, you smiling with rosy cheeks as you linked your little pinky with his.

“birds of a feather.”

you both kissed your thumbs and locked your promise, deciding then that you should probably shower once more before getting into bed to officially sleep— but deciding to shower together as you softly and steamily made out under the misty hot running water, body and mind relaxed as you just swallowed in the ambience of each other, you both not only holding on to your metaphorical tight rope with one hand now, but it actually on the verge of snapping as a whole and sending you both free falling.

and for the next couple of days, you and satoru were feral.

years and years of doing fucking nothing with pure restraint and fantasizing did a number on you both as any chance you got you were making out on your bed, his bed, and even in satoru’s car after your lectures— your hand teasingly going lower and lower until you’d shove a hand in his pants to pull his dick out and pump, your body leaning across the console and mouth going down to bob and suck as he moaned and pulled your hair into a makeshift ponytail to guide you and your pretty bows and fuck your mouth just to hear the sounds of you choking, eyes from time to time frantically looking around to see if no one was around as you blowed him.

and you did that basically all of the time for the next three days until the final practice just before the international skating union competition, satoru physically unable to leave you alone and unscathed as he constantly pinned you down to eat your pussy or suckle on your soft tits, his hand tightly clasped over your mouth in your room when your moans would get too loud as he fingered you, his long fingers squelching and abusing your cunt until you were finishing all over his hands again and again.

but you two having actual sex didn’t happen again apart from that night— satoru a man of his word since he promised you would only do it once… unfortunately. but that didn’t mean you couldn’t do other things, right?

except by the final practice, satoru was absolutely fucked off at the fact that neither of you had brought up the potentiality of being more than just friends, especially after doing all of those lewd acts.

he was so sick of it.

and so were you, quite frankly, but instead of being completely over it like satoru, you were afraid… afraid of what could happen and the possibility of losing him if you both indulged, if you let yourselves put your freaking careers on the line.

and satoru was the one person you couldn’t bear to lose. not ever.

“we look good sweets!” satoru cheesed, rotating around in the ice rinks dressing room mirrors as you had your costumes on for dress rehearsal and refinements, both of you glittering and shiny and looking like a professional ice skating pair as you examined yourself, readjusting your straps and hugging your torso.

“cold.” you shivered. “maybe i should’ve had it as a long sleeve… shit.”

he laughed and placed his hands on your arms, rubbing up and down quickly to create frictional heat as you smiled at him gratefully. “nah, it’s cute like this! you’ll warm up once we run it a few times on the ice.”

you nodded, the both of you walking out of the dressing room and to the rink, skillfully putting on your skates before pushing yourself on the ice and gliding across.

“can you show me the uh—” satoru looked to the side in thought once he was on the ice in front of you. “the part where we skate in unison and have our arms up in an L? it’s in the chorus of our music—”

“oh!” you nodded and skated a bit away from him to demonstrate.

“i just wanna see if my form matches yours and we look clean.” he smiled. “and then show me the triple axel after that.”

you gave him a cute thumbs up and pushed yourself off, gliding gracefully and smoothly across the ice as satoru was supposed to be watching you to try and fix his form, but finding himself transfixed once again by the way you seamlessly skated with no sense of struggling effort— arms poised and flowy as your dress moved and fluttered with every twist and turn until you gradually propelled yourself up into the triple axel and landed correctly without a slip or wobble.

the level of difficulty and technicality you skated reminded him of akira— but your style, your movement, and the way you carried yourself was entirely your own.

you made figure skating look beautiful.

you were beautiful.

you slowed down on the ice and skated over to satoru.

“were you able to see? did you match me?—”

“you skate just like her.” satoru spoke softly, and you faltered.

he didn’t need to clarify who he was talking about, as you always knew.

“you’re just saying that.” you pursed your lips to keep yourself from smiling, or crying, you didn’t know.

but a compliment like that meant the absolute world to you.

“i’m not.” he shrugged, skating over to you and taking your hands as he glided with you to starting position. “you always have baby. and i know that’s what you’ve always wanted. i’m sorry i don’t say it enough.”

your eyes softened. “toru that’s not something to be sorry about at all…”

satoru was so kind.

you both skated together and ran the choreography a couple of times, spinning simultaneously and satoru lifting you again and again throughout the routine and still performing your lasso spinning lift successfully, arms around his shoulders and faces close as the wind whipped through both of your costumes and hair from traveling across the ice at such a speed before coming to a sudden choreographed halt at the end of your number.

you had slid down satoru’s body to plant your blades back on the ice when he had enough.

“please stick your tongue in my mouth.”

you choked on your spit and slapped a hand over your mouth.

“toru no! absolutely not we can’t anymore okay—”

“what are we.”

you froze.

“huh?”

“what are we.” he repeated, eyes dead locked on yours and hard. “are we together? are we not? are we friends? what are we—”

“we’re— we’re friends toru—”

“oh fuck no.” he let you go and created a little bit of space between you. “don’t give me that shit we’re not friends.”

“w—well we can’t—”

“i’m your man.” he stated firmly. “i’m your man i’ve been your man for years and i’m tired of avoiding this sweets! it sucks!”

“we’re putting everything at risk if we do toru we can’t!”

“i’m your man.”

“no you’re not—”

he cut you off. “your mouth has been on my dick. we’ve had sex. we’ve kissed we’ve made out we’ve told each other i love you if that doesn’t tell you that we’re together then what the actual fuck?!”

“oh my god toru i know i know!” you groaned, hugging yourself as you anxiously looked at him. “what happens if we break up? huh? what do we do?”

he shook his head. “we won’t.”

“you don’t know that.” you laughed bitterly. “if that happens we lose each other satoru understand that. we break birds of a feather, we ruin our careers, and we ruin us.”

“first of all—” he started. “our birds of a feather promise is to stick together, keep each other safe, and not seperate or fight, is it not?”

“it— it is—”

“so do you really think if we continue to keep each other in this fuck ass limbo of friends that we aren’t already breaking that?” he threw his arms out in emphasis. “we have never been just friends. i’ve known you for fourteen fucking years and we have never been just that.”

you blinked back tears.

“i promise you baby—” he slid closer to you and cupped your cheeks. “that we won’t leave each other. i will fight and try every single damn day to make sure that that shit never happens even though i already know it won’t because you’ve been made for me since birth and we haven’t separated since we’ve met.”

satoru wiped your cheeks. “but i also promise you, that if we continue as just friends, we will break. we’re gonna string each other along so fucking much that we’re gonna go absolutely insane and drive each other away. that is for certain.”

“but— skating—”

“i don’t give an ever living fuck.” he spat funnily and you laughed through your tears. “skating is nothing without you. all the trophies and medallions and the god damn olympics itself with that gold medal is nothing without you. i would give that shit up in a heartbeat if it meant keeping you in my life in exchange.”

“and i would do the same for you toru!” you sobbed, his arms immediately wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you in as you sniffled and hiccuped into his chest, him kissing the side of your head repeatedly and soothing a hand down your back.

“don’t cry pretty i didn’t meant to make you cry...” he mumbled, cheek mushed up against your head as your shoulders shook, a huge disgusting pit of guilt in his stomach. “fine it’s okay we can be just friends for a bit longer please don’t cry—”

“no!” you sputtered, pushing him back a little to face him. “i don’t wanna be just friends anymore either toru… it hurts me so much.”

“it does?” he asked softly and you nodded.

“it hurts me too.”

satoru wiped your remaining tears again and fixed the little bows in your hair, a soft liberated smile on his face as he reached down to cup your cheeks and bring your perfect lips to his, kissing you lovingly as the both of you felt like you could finally rest and stop ridiculously hiding your love in the shadows after so many years.

the thin tight rope that you had both been toppling over and rebalancing and holding onto to keep the other from falling, had finally snapped in two, and you and satoru were now in the darkest depths of the truth of what you both were.

except it wasn’t dark at all.

it was light and airy and heavenly, and you wondered why you had been so afraid when there was nothing to be afraid of in the first place, since the one you were falling with was satoru.

silly.

he pulled apart and looked at you, his striking blue eyes and white fluffy hair especially beautiful.

“tomorrow—” he began. “we’re gonna absolutely destroy everyone else there and land a spot in the top three, and then after i’m gonna take you out on a nice dinner and buy every single fucking dessert off the menu, and then i’m gonna ask you to be my girlfriend. okay baby?”

you giggled then, the brightest rosy cheeks on display from the both of you as you eagerly nodded and threw your arms around his neck.

and tomorrow could not come soon enough, because not only were you looking forward to making your dreams a reality and competing against other figure skating pairs from around the world and the olympics itself, but also the thought of officially being satoru’s after years of wishing on little stars and day dreaming about what that would be like for hours on end.

until the moment was here. happening.

the indoor arena was electric and rowdy the minute the competition commenced, you and satoru in absolute awe of the energetic atmosphere as many individuals in the crowd waved their banners or screamed their loved ones names, an ambience very similar to the olympics as you both watched pair after pair perform their hardwork and dedication on the ice, goosebumps on your skin as you fidgeted and jittered.

out of twenty of your countries competing pairs, only three of you would be chosen for the olympics.

and you hoped to god you and satoru would be chosen.

“we’re almost up baby.” satoru patted your head, sitting on a bench in your designated area. “i think it’s two more pairs then it’s us.”

you nodded, nerves closing up your throat as your eyes darted over the rink.

satoru frowned.

“hey.” he placed a hand on your thigh, suddenly wanting to rip your nylon tights off so you could actually feel his skin on yours. “you nervous sweets?”

you nodded again, and he gave you a silly grin.

“don’t be! you’re literally akira the second. we’ll be fine!”

you laughed lightly and leaned your head on his shoulder.

“and even if we don’t land a spot, that’s fine too.” he kissed your head. “it’s our first year anyways… we’ll know the game for next time and we’ll try harder.”

you picked your head up and smiled at him, his words settling your nerves just as soon as the last remaining pair took their places on stage, yours and satoru’s turn right after.

what you didn’t know, was that satoru was just as nervous as you.

but he knew you needed a rock and someone to comfort you— wanting to swoop in like a little hero and save you again… so he kept it hidden.

“fuck i almost forgot!” satoru jumped up and dug into his duffel bag, pulling out a roll of pale baby blue ribbon that matched your dress exactly. “you told me you didn’t have ribbon that matched your costume so i went and tried to look.”

he held it out for you cutely on his palm.

“does this one match?”

you picked up the roll, astonished and mushy inside that satoru actually went out of his way to find this specific ribbon color for you because you had expressed how unhappy you were with the darker shade you had, your eyes looking up at him in complete adoration.

“oh my goodness— thank you toru!”

you quickly undid the bows in your hair and slipped off the former ribbon, digging through your duffel bag for scissors and cutting off pieces from the new ribbon before looping them through your hair and tying, not needing a mirror since you’ve done it for as long as you could remember.

satoru’s cheeks went pink as he looked at your new pretty bows.

“does they look okay?”

“beautiful.” he responded, pecking your lips before taking your hand and leading you to the entrance of the rink.

“okay—” you breathed out. “this is it.”

“what kind of food do you think they’ll have at the dinner place we picked—”

“toru!” you giggled. “not now!”

he smiled sheepishly at you before leaning his forehead against yours.

you stuck your pinky out.

“birds of a feather?”

satoru grinned and looped his pinky with yours.

“birds of a feather baby.”

you both kissed your thumbs and once again, locked your promise.

the announcer over the speakers iterated your names and your country as you and satoru glided across the ice poised and graceful with your arms up, waving at the crowd and giving your mothers a special frantic wave before moving to starting position, unknowing of the way several other pairs and the judges themselves murmured about your reputation and your association with akira.

and you hoped she was watching over you both now. somewhere.

the music begun, contemporary and lyrical as you and satoru slid across the rink, already impressive and entertaining as you performed moves and lifts right off the bat, the sounds of your blades scraping against the ice oddly keeping you in time with your choreography as the number went on.

and you and satoru were feeding off of each other, the chemistry undeniable to a strangers eye that had no idea of your story as you conveyed passion through your expressions, each technical movement bleeding with the fact that you both had been olympic level trained since the age of fourteen and fifteen.

you were halfway through your routine now, the lasso lift coming up next as satoru harbored in his strength so he could properly propel you into that newly added spin.

you skated around him and he lifted you up into the air, the crowd cheering and excited at your beautiful remarkable forms.

except satoru’s hands were slippery.

why?

nerves. he quickly deemed it nerves as he had no time to deliberate since it was almost time to propel you up into the spin, his mind already racing over the fact that the slip in his hands was hindering his strength to keep you up there, and he worried that if he pushed you up, it wouldn’t be enough and you’d come tumbling down— hurting yourself.

but satoru had zero time to decide again as he went with protocol and pushed you up as hard as he possibly could and prayed you would go into your triple axel spin successfully and that he’d catch you.

but the minute that he did, the force yanked him back and his skates flew up in front of him, you falling down and your thigh hitting something sharp before you both went slamming to the ground— sliding apart from each other on the ice.

the crowd screamed and gasped in terror, sounds you were all too familiar with to what you heard three years ago filling both your fuzzy minds as satoru struggled to get back up, his head turning slowly around to see if you were okay and just sore like him—

until he saw your limp body on your side, your back to him with blood slowly pooling out on the ice and staining your pretty blue dress.

satoru scrambled up and skated straightaway in a panic to you before sliding on his knees as he reached you, turning you over and paling as he saw you were unresponsive and out fucking cold.

“baby?“ he shook you. “hey— baby—”

nothing.

why weren’t you answering him? why weren’t you awake?

his brain flashed images of akira’s body the day that she died, suffocating deja vu as the way you looked when he saw you like that on your side was a carbon copy of her from three years ago, his chest picking up speed as you continued to lay limp even after he shook you desperately numerous times like a madman.

and why was there so much blood?

blood that looked sickly bright red against the white ice, blood that stained his sleeves and shirt and hands as he held you up and supported your head, and blood that wouldn’t stop fucking oozing out of your leg as he trembled.

“hey— hey can you hear me?” satoru tapped your cheek rapidly, shaking you gently again with horrified eyes and still not getting a response.

“fuck! why is this happening this isn’t supposed to happen—”

how could he be your hero? how could he stop the blood and wake you up? how could he— how could he fix this how could he take it all back how could he fix this—

“no no no baby please—” he sobbed. “not like aki baby not like her man—”

he shook you again, your head lolling to the side as if— as if you were—

no.

“baby— birds of a feather right? birds of a feather we have to stick together you can’t— you can’t leave right?” he cried, chest heaving and vision blurry and you just felt so cold.

“you’re not leaving you’re not leaving me please not like aki please god—” he cradled you up to his chest in his arms and rocked. “you can’t leave me you’re all i know and i don’t wanna know anything else please baby—”

satoru’s frantic repeated heartbroken wailing echoed throughout the arena as the crowd erupted and moved around in hysteria, him still rocking you in his arms as he turned his head with terrified bloodshot eyes to look at both of your mothers, yours hunched over in a fit of screams and cries as his had her hands in her hair in utter disbelief and tears.

“fuck what do i do!” he sobbed, legs shakily standing as he slipped one arm under your back and the other under your knees, picking your limp body up as he saw a huge group of paramedics run over to him on the ice as he carried you over.

“help—” hic! “h—help me please—”

why couldn’t satoru be your hero when it mattered most?

several of them lowered the stretcher and took you from him, laying your lifeless self on it before hoisting you up and swiftly carrying you away, all of it horrifyingly and painfully similar to akira’s inevitable death.

were you gone?

satoru looked down and saw your baby blue ribbons on the ice, wet and stained with blood, once perfect bows in your pretty hair when he had you awake and breathing.

were you breathing? had you hit your head?

he couldn’t remember.

he couldn’t remember anything but your unresponsiveness, the way your skin was colder than the ice itself as he picked up your ribbons and looked at them in his hands— and the way your blood stretched over for what looked like miles and was still there.

in front of him. taunting him.

was the world so cruel as to take you too?

it wouldn’t. it couldn’t.

you’d never done anything wrong. you’d never treated anybody indifferently as you were sweet and beautiful and talented, always in servitude of others— in servitude of him as you taught him how to ice skate when you didn’t need to at six years old, you already kind and gentle at that young age when you could’ve easily shooed him away like a little bug and told him to fuck off.

and throughout your life too, as he was well aware he was an annoying dramatic piece of shit that whined and cried and ate your stashes of sweets all of the time— but you always just giggling and looking at him with adoration in your eyes, with your cheeky smile, with the little ribbon bows in your hair he loved so fucking much.

oh how he wished he didn’t always take your sweets at that moment. how he wished he wasn’t always an annoying blockhead and made you mad at times with his persistent personality and neediness as he stood there frozen in the rink staring at your blood— dark now and dull, wishing it was him instead of you.

you were knocked out for five days at the hospital.

you and satoru also didn’t make it into the top three at the international skating union competition.

you should’ve, as your score was already higher than any other pair there and only halfway through the routine too— but that’s precisely why you got knocked out.

if you had finished your number, you would’ve landed in the top three, but it ending halfway cut off the opportunity for accumulating more points, and eventually another pair surpassed your halfway score by two points.

but satoru didn’t give a shit. fuck the olympics and fuck the international skating union while your body laid still on the hospital bed for hours on end, him refusing to leave your side as he sat there and stared off into space with nothing in his head but hatred for himself as it was his fault that this happened and his blade that sliced you— eyes red and sunken and tired and refusing to eat or drink.

you had hit your head on the ice, but thankfully the trauma wasn’t anywhere near the severity of akira’s, it only inducing a strong concussion and sending you flying out of consciousness upon impact.

but it was the loss of blood that was the problem.

you had lost so much, too much of it.

it made you weak and frail and unable to do much and satoru worried that that’s what was going to take away your fighting chance of survival.

“you should go home satoru…” your mother sighed, standing by the door of your hospital room, her own eyes red and swollen.

he shook his head no silently.

“she’ll still be here… you need to eat something or sleep please. you look awful.”

satoru smiled weakly and shook his head again.

“m’fine.”

your mother pursed her lips to the side and she sighed again, nodding.

“i’ll come by early in the morning, alright?”

he hummed, giving her a tiny wave as she left and closed the door behind her.

satoru had brought a roll of pink ribbon from your little white box in your room, unrolling the pieces he chose and lifting his hands, taking the ends of your hair and trying to tie little thin bows the way you always did, but huffing softly in irritation when they just looked like shit.

he undid the one he was working on and settled for feeling the material of the ribbon between his thumbs instead.

satoru brought you bouquets everyday too.

sometimes three at a time as he continuously swapped out old flowers and replaced them with new ones, changed their water and poured fresh quantities into each vase to keep them alive, and often picked some more from the hospital garden when he went down to get some fresh air for a minute— the least he could do for nearly killing you.

and satoru had a lot of time to think while he waited for you to wake up— bitter and resentful at the world for letting him sit there healthy while you were out, so much so that he started thinking stupid shit like how he wished you would’ve forgotten him and dismissed his yapping dreams about ice skating when you met so you would’ve been an independent skater instead, so you then wouldn’t have gotten hurt by his idiocy and you wouldn’t be laying in a hospital bed like you were now.

or swapped places. him instead of you so he could beat up the fucks that took akira away and beat up zeus or— or aphrodite or whoever the fuck that was responsible for keeping him from you so he could come back to you… unsure if you were doing the same thing as he stared at your resting face.

you should’ve just left him behind.

but he was sleeping when you woke.

arms propped up and crossed next to you on the hospital bed, his cheek mushed up on them and face to the side as you blinked your eyes open and was straight up confused, not a single memory of the incident flitting through your mind… until it did.

and it hit you bad.

your mind reeled with a pounding headache, tears prickling your eyes at the events that plagued through your mind— a part of you knowing there was absolutely no way you and satoru made top three and gutted about it, feeling shaken from the memory alone of you falling and hitting the ice.. but grateful.

grateful to be alive, for you knew akira wasn’t as lucky.

was it because of her that you had lived? had she pulled some strings to change your fate?

your eyes trailed down to a sleeping peaceful satoru, your gaze softening at how tired and broken he looked, bags dark and purple as he snored away next to you, your hand lifting and delicately settling over his fluffy white hair as you smiled that he was here next to you— caressing.

satoru shot up wide awake then as you jumped and retracted your hand, the both of you alarmed and frantic.

“baby?” he grabbed your hand and felt around it, feeling warmth for once as he stood up straight and shoved back one of the sleeves of his hoodie.

“you’re awake? are you actually?—” he pinched his arm hard over and over and you giggled.

you giggled— the sound filling his ears and lifting an undeniable dark ton off of his shoulders as he relaxed, tears automatically brimming his eyes.

“i thought i fucking killed you sweets.” his voice shook, arms gently coming around you and pulling you into an embrace.

“killed me?” you frowned. “toru what are you talking about—”

“oh god you have amnesia—”

“no!” you laughed. “what do you mean by almost killed me? you didn’t do anything.”

“i did everything.” he spoke flatly. “i fucked up that lasso lift. i pushed you up too hard and we fell. i cut you with my blade i made you bleed—”

“toru that was an accident.” you pulled back and your chest hurt over the devastated look on his face, wiping his tears and kissing his nose. “remember— aki’s partner felt just like this and we had to tell him too it was an accident. you can’t control something like that. at all. it’s just unfortunate circumstance.”

“i know but i still feel like—” he wiped his eyes and swallowed. “i still feel like i could’ve done something different. it should’ve been me and not you and i should’ve—”

“toru don’t even don’t think about things like that.” you shook your head. “there wasn’t anything you could’ve done, baby. and that’s okay.”

you gently scooched over on the bed and patted the spot next to yours, satoru immediately climbing and settling in, clinging on to you as he placed his head on your chest with his arm firm but careful around your waist, suddenly feeling how exhausted he actually was from the days he spent restless.

you couldn’t have imagined the pain satoru must’ve gone through waiting for you to wake up. you didn’t know how he even fucking managed as you would’ve been torn into bits and pieces not knowing if he was going to live or not, looking at his limp bloody body the way he had to look at yours and it reminding you of the event that brought you both the most trauma and grief.

you couldn’t believe you almost went out the same way.

satoru confirmed your thoughts later and filled you in on the results of the international skating union competition, rubbing salt into the wound a little more upon learning that you landed fourth, nearly there as you couldn’t help but cry a bit in your hospital bed when he told you that you could’ve had a spot, satoru hugging you and reassuring you that you’d both have your shot at it in the next four years.

your family was relieved that you were awake, tons of people piling in and giving you sweets and food that satoru hungrily eyed and gawked over, you laughing and passing him the ones he particularly enjoyed most as you conversed with your relatives.

and recovery was thankfully easy— doctors orders being just you taking it light and being careful not to bonk your head against anything, as well as taking care of the laceration on your leg— changing the bandage frequently every morning and night, satoru insisting he help you with that and with many other things that you needed as he tried to make up for what he still thought was his fault.

two weeks had gone by of just rest and peace and no figure skating, thinking you and satoru deserved this break, but also secretly petrified of stepping on the ice again after what had happened— neither of you wanting to hurt the other as you avoided the topic of training for the meantime at all costs.

“maybe we should work at a water park.” you suggested one day, the two of you seated on a park bench through the chilly mid january air as you shared a plate of chocolate drizzled strawberries you got from some nice lady and her fruit stand. “be lifeguards!”

“oh hell no!” he spoke with his mouthful before swallowing, readjusting the black round sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose. “you think i’m gonna be fine with watching random old men savoring after my wife in her little red bikini while i’m off saving some drowning kid? oh no thank you. let the kid drown.”

“toru!” you laughed, smacking his shoulder. “okay then what else?”

“janitors.”

you shrugged. “i like to clean. sometimes.”

“and your entire body is covered in those jumpsuits no stinky old men looking at—”

satoru’s phone buzzed against his jeans and he paused and pulled it out as you giggled, him barely glancing at the caller i.d before answering.

“hello?”

you mindlessly carried on plopping strawberries in your mouth and chewing.

“this is he…. oh hello! yes! how are you?”

you eyed satoru quizzically at his sudden formal change in tone, his eyes glued to the cement below.

“uh huh… really? o—okay! no yes for sure! thank you so much for the opportunity!”

opportunity?

you slowed your chewing and nudged his shoulder gently, wanting him to give you some kind of sign as to who it was on the other line.

“okay, we’ll keep in touch! thank you again!”

satoru slowly removed his phone away from his ear as the other line went dead, staring at his screen and you curiously leaning over only to see his call history log, a random number at the top.

“holy fuck.”

“what?!” you leaned in closer and tried to catch his eyes with yours, his shocked wide gaze slowly flittering to your face.

“that was the national olympic committee.”

you froze.

“shut the fuck up.” you covered your mouth. “toru what did they say what did they say—”

“one of the pairs that made it in the top three got disqualified.” he spat out quickly, shooting up and digging his fingers into his hair as he walked back and forth slowly in disbelief, spinning to face you. “i— i don’t know why i didn’t ask but we got bumped up.”

silence.

“we—” your chest rose and fell erratically, eyes darting around as satoru knelt down and grabbed your hands.

“baby we made it.” he tightened his grip. “we’re competing in the olympics—”

you squealed and jumped up and down and pulled satoru in, the both of you comically bouncing off the walls as you wailed and cried and blabbered on about how you couldn’t believe it and how a chance like this was even given to you, satoru lifting you and spinning you around but stopping and freaking out and apologizing profusely over your injured leg, you shaking your head and laughing, kissing him in return.

“we can’t avoid skating toru.” you spoke once you and him had settled down. “it’s literally what brought us together… and what brought us to aki. and even from you spinning me around like that it reminded me how much i missed skating with you.”

“i feel the same sweets.” he smiled, big and bright and handsome as he leaned over and kissed your rosy cheek. “i miss lifting you up and catching a glimpse of your ass underneath your—”

“toru!”

even though you and satoru were finally on board and accepting of bringing skating back into your lives, it wasn’t to say at all that the fear itself went away when you tried to do lifts or spins in the air with each other— apprehensive and scared as you practiced on the mats way more than necessary before moving choreography to the ice, satoru multiple times chickening out and needing a moment as he was petrified of hurting you again, and you glued in place at the thought of falling and slamming on the ground when you had just survived mostly unscathed.

but this wasn’t the time to be afraid over that anymore, and if akira were here, you both knew she’d smack you upside the heads and tell you to move… to get on the ice and do the sport you both loved and cherished most.

to finalize your dream and make it a reality.

and throughout the month that you and satoru spent before the commencement of the olympics, you trained like never before— no excuses as you worked tirelessly day and night with sweat literally dripping from your faces until every single goal was met and beyond, until every single throw from satoru was perfected and until every axel from you was delivered.

sometime during this month too, satoru finally got to take you out on that romantic candle lit dinner like he promised and asked you to be his girlfriend, him giddy and grinning the whole time and literally spoiling the moment as he meant to give you a chocolate dessert plate that said ‘will you be mine’ in chocolate syrupy letters, but accidentally eating it and smearing the words when he confused your plate with his, smacking his forehead repeatedly on the dining table as the silverware clattered— muttering about how dark it was and how he couldn’t fucking see, but you laughing so fucking much and clutching your stomach that your makeup smudged up at the corner of your eyes.

satoru was reminded again how much he loved you that day, because anyone else would’ve gotten tremendously annoyed and called him an idiot, but you…

you just giggled. giggled and hiccuped like always while he stared at you softly.

the love you and satoru shared stretched far beyond the concepts of what a platonic and romantic relationship was.

the love you and satoru shared was sacrifice. genuine sacrifice and yearn and absolute unadulterated love as you both without another thought would drop your careers for each other, would swap places if it meant the other would be safe from harm’s way, and would endure years of swallowing and pushing back feelings if it meant just keeping one another in your lives forever.

because that’s what birds of a feather was for to begin with.

a promise to stick together. a promise to keep each other safe.

a concept so pure and devoted that it translated onto the ice like no other pair when it came time for the olympics.

“you ready sweets?” satoru breathed out as you both stood in front of each other by the outside of the rink with interlaced fingers, shaking each other’s jitters out. “no matter what happens, we’ve already come so far and done so much, okay? we’ve done what we needed to do.”

“mhm!” you quickly nodded, satoru leaning down before you both rested your foreheads against each other’s with massive smiles on your faces, thunderous cheers echoing throughout the giant arena totally drowned out in your ears as you stared into satoru’s sparkling blue eyes.

“make aki proud.” you repeated softly, and he nodded, you hoping once again she was watching over you both.

you both stuck your pinkies out at the same time and looped them together.

“birds of a feather?” satoru beamed.

“birds of a feather.”

and you kissed your thumbs before sealing your promise.

you both watched the pair that you were going right after perform their routine, beautiful and difficult as you gnawed at your bottom lip in distress.

“toru…”

“yeah baby?”

“some of these pairs are crazy good…” you spoke over the music. “i’d honestly be happy with getting in the top twenty i don’t know if we can—”

satoru scoffed and shook his head, a sly smile as he looked over the rink with his arms crossed.

“nah, we’d win.”

and just like akira had done in her final olympic year— in her final moments, you and satoru made it known that it was your debut, that you had been hungry and desperate for this moment since the ages of six and seven, that you’d been raised and trained by a four-time olympic gold medalist for a decade as you executed the most technical and intricate moves and turns, you and satoru moving as one on the ice and identical as he took your hands and glided on the ice with you, raw emotion in your expressions that read love so clearly that it was impossible to miss.

with each lift, with each time satoru took you in his arms and spun, and with each time he simply held you close and tenderly to his chest as his blades scrapped across the ice with your pretty bows in his view— were all reminders for the two of you that partner figure skating was nothing without satoru and nothing without you.

the privilege of having another way to convey just how much you loved each other through the language of artistic expression and skates and ice, through the feel of each other’s skin, was one you nurtured and looked after and loved as the wind whipped through you and satoru due to the speed of your skates, performing quadruple axels like nothing while dropping the jaws of other figure skating pairs.

and because of this fact alone, how you both truly appreciated each other’s entities and had the indescribable power to correlate that into competitive sport—

was the reason why you and satoru won gold that day.

you and him, on your knees, gripping and hugging one another so hard and crying tears of joy as you both had come so far and gone through so much to get to where you were now, your dream now a complete and total reality as you stepped up onto that podium during the medal award ceremony just like akira had done— representing your country excellently with a big fat gold medal hung over your necks and a big fat kiss from satoru as he lip locked with you up there, flashings of cameras and bouquets and teddy bears scattered all throughout the ice in dismay.

“i love you!” satoru yelled to you over the roaring as you waved at the crowd, your mothers crying and blowing their noses and taking pictures from the edge of the rink as you and satoru cackled and pointed at them.

“i love you, toru!”

“no like seriously!” he put his waving hand down. “i wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. thank you for recognizing that i have love and dreams too baby and for not forgetting about me even when i’ve been the most annoying dipshit of your life.”

“you’ve never been that to me my god toru! where is this coming from?” he hopped off the podium once you two were given the all clear and he held a helping hand out for you to take, you doing so and carefully stepping down.

“reeaally?” he cheesed, cheeky and silly as his big pearly white smile made your cheeks flush. “so you love me then?”

“i literally would not be with you if i didn’t—”

“hooray!” he cheered, throwing his arms up as flower petals flew from his bouquets and around. “my girlfriend loves me! and we’re gonna have rough passionate olympian sex in our hotel room—”

“toru!—”

the love you and satoru shared wasn’t something silly like ‘i like you, you like me.’

it was call me when you get home.

have you eaten yet?

here, let me help you.

whatever you need.

yours and satoru’s souls were exactly the same— blended, intertwined, and stubbornly knotted together as no amount of tug and pull could unravel you both apart, satoru finding over the years that loving you was like muscle memory from the moment he met you, his nerves and reflexes gravitating him towards you on the ice that first time even when he knew there was a huge chance of him slipping and falling, but not being afraid of it at all as long as he just got to you, convinced he knew you in another life as you just felt so familiar the moment he saw your pretty little face.

and you’re so glad that he did get to you… that he stayed with you.

fourteen years of ice cream trips and sleepovers and horror movies from the moment you were teeny tiny babies to adults, experiencing the hardships of your teenage years of loss and grief, to then adulthood and college as you had the privilege of learning to navigate it with another being that was just like you, two little birds with no sense of direction other than to each other.

and it was all thanks to one woman and one woman alone.

“i honestly believe that if she was there, she would’ve brought one of those confetti poppers with dye in it and set it off.” you commented, you and satoru sitting on the grass at her grave site as you leaned your head on his shoulder and his head on top of yours, having literally just come off the plane from being at the olympics— your countries olympic button up thick jackets adorning your figures as your gold medals gleamed radiantly against the sun.

“i wish she was there.” satoru hummed, and you nodded softly in agreement.

“me too… but i’m sure she was! as a little birdie.”

he chuckled, finding your hand and interlacing your fingers as you stared at her tombstone like you’d done so many times before already… except this time it was bittersweet, you having accomplished what the three of you had strived so hard for at last.

“i miss her.” you murmured. “i miss her cussing.”

your eyes flickered down to her peace offerings, the little snow angel trinket you had gotten her still pretty and glossy and her as it sat happily on her stone platform.

satoru picked his head up and kissed the top of your head, propping his chin up on it.

“i miss her too baby.” he responded softly. “everyday.”

“but— i can’t thank her enough for giving us the bullets to fire with for skating.. y’know..” you ran the pad of your index finger along her tombstone, rough and scratchy as you traced little hearts along the edges.

“and she brought us closer together, did she not?” satoru pointed out.

she did.

a woman who was clumsy and loud and erratic with the biggest potty mouth you had ever heard that was passed down to you and satoru in the blink of an eye… but man did she know what love was as she taught it to you and reminded you both of exactly what it was each and every day.

you and satoru had accepted the fact that your hearts would never be whole again, for akira had taken half of them elsewhere and into the depths of the unknown.

but you were okay with that. completely and utterly okay with that.

for love had no limits.

you wanted her to keep it, as you and satoru stitched the remaining halves of your hearts together to create a new whole, as there was no one else you both would rather have that part of you with them forever besides akira.

and yours and satoru’s stitched up hearts grew increasingly bigger and fonder even after a couple of years later, even after winning three more olympic gold medals, you and him back at the same place in front of akira’s grave like always, sitting and laughing and chatting— but with two little baby toddlers that were half of you and half of satoru as they blubbered on about ‘mama aki’ and her trophies, a delicate twinkling ring on your finger and a golden band around satoru’s as your little family had a picnic over her final resting place.

“papa!” your son exclaimed, satoru immediately turning his attention to him in the midst of scarfing down a turkey sandwich.

“yes my offspring?”

you playfully glared at your husband.

“why do your eyes look scarier in the day?”

“HAH!” you slapped a hand over your mouth to hush your cackling, satoru’s face absolutely taken aback and offended.

“they do!” your daughter giggled. “they do! they do!—”

“baby do something!” satoru whined, shoulders slumping as he threw his head back. “i’m being bullied by five year old’s!”

you giggled and kissed his cheek, his pout quickly turning into a soft little grin as his face flushed pink.

“but your papa’s eyes are pretty you guys! and they match yours!”

“mmm— nope! scary!”

your two twin toddlers giggled uncontrollably as they thought being mean to their dad was the funniest thing in the world, you laughing with them as satoru flopped back dramatically and completely laid down on the grass with his eyes looking straight up at the bright sky.

“s’okay.” he spoke flatly. “if even my pretty little wife thinks my suffering is funny i’ll just burn my eyes to a crisp—”

“toru!” you slapped his knee. “too graphic in front of the kiddies.”

“but my suffering!—”

“mommy mommy!” your daughter tugged at your sleeve and pointed to the top of akira’s tombstone, a cute perfect white and brown bird perched up on the edge and peering curiously at the four of you, the creature not alarmed whatsoever of your children’s sudden movements as they scrambled to get closer to it.

satoru propped himself up with an elbow and stared before you both locked eyes, knowing growing smiles on your faces as he fully sat up— leaning and planting a gentle kiss to your forehead, letting it linger.

aki.

and it was like you and satoru were reminded again of your promise that you still told each other every day.

a promise that consisted of your years together… of your love, of your undying fervor of sticking together, of your need of keeping each other safe…

of birds of a feather.

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[d1stalker]

All of You, All of Me [Logan Howlett]

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

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

----

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

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

Everyone, except for you.

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

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

Logan Howlett.

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

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

Jean Grey.

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

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

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

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

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

Logan was never the same after that.

 —

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

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

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

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

It’s Logan.

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

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

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

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

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

“Give me a fuckin’ break.”

----

Brown. Logan’s hair is brown.

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

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

Brown.

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

Why him? Why me? Why now?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are you here?” he asks accusingly.

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

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

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

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

“Logan, I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good. Then stay away from me.”

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

And that’s the cruelest twist of all.

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

—

The only person you tell is Charles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because you are the only one who does care.

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

—

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

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

He’s across from you. Just your luck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s not fair.

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

“Mind if I join you?” he asks gently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What if it just makes things worse?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Goddamn it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His words hurt. 

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

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

“That isn’t fair,” you argue.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s when it really hits you. 

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

You give up.

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

“Goodbye, Logan. Take care of yourself.”

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

— 

You decide to go on the mission.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I promise,” you assure.

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Location: Florence. 

Message: Help.

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The X-Men have arrived.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m glad you’re alright.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod. "Okay."

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that makes all the difference.

----

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