#thank you to anyone who took the time to actually read this
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Spring Fling - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader (Part Five) (18+) / Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four
Summary: You should have known the âno refundsâ detail on the website for Spring Fling was a red flag. But you paid no mind to it, eager to be assigned a quick fuck for spring break. When the man that walks through your cabin door is none other than Jake 'Hangman' Seresin, your wildly infuriating fellow pilot, you have two choices: bicker the entire time and have a miserable spring break, or fuck.
Contents/Warnings: smut, minors dni. fem!reader, pilot!reader, enemies/rivals to lovers, lots and lots of arguing, could these two people be any less cooperative, sex seven ways to sunday and then some, seriously like so much smut it'll make your eyes bleed, makeouts, rough sex, oral (m+f receiving), penetrative sex, will add as i post
WC: 7.0k / navigation / inbox
A/N: Thank you all for waiting for this chapter! I know it took me longer to finish this one than it did the others but it's the longest chapter so far, and I also had a lot of major life events go down in the time between this chapter and last. I appreciate each and every single one of you who stayed patient with me, and I hope that this chapter and that the rest to come are worth the wait :) <3
feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!
Youâre doing a terrible job at paying attention to where youâre going as you take the elevator, jamming your finger against the 12 button so hard it hurts. Pizza is on the twelfth floor, and youâre hoping Daniel will be there early like you so that you can forget about Jake and his tyrannical rule.Â
Itâs clear as day to you; Jake thinks he has control over you just the same way he has control over the girls that drool over him at the Hard Deck. He thinks one glance will melt your brain into mush, but it wonât. It doesnât, and youâre not letting the cockiest man you know believe heâs won you over. Especially one that you work with. If anyone found out- if any of your fellow aviators knew that youâd succumbed to Jakeâs charms⊠youâd risk losing the respect youâve fought hard to earn on the tarmac. Youâre not letting your career take a nosedive because Jake wonât stop bragging about getting his dick wet. He doesnât get a say in your life if he has nothing genuine to contribute to it. You know him well enough to know that caving in and fucking would be the worst decision of your life, and you refuse to let him feel like heâs won you like a prize. Youâre standing up for yourself; if he can shit-talk Daniel, you can shit-talk Miss Melons.
Your skin prickles with annoyance the more you think about the woman that had approached you both- seriously, did she not consider that she was being intrusive and rude? You assume Jake has snagged her away from her roommate by now, and theyâre probably having a better time than you are.Â
Everything feels unfair, down to the coincidental roommate placement. Itâs like the universe had heard you needed a break, and wanted to punish you for it.
Cracking open your book helps, but it takes you a while to get into the groove. Youâre sitting poolside across from the pizza place, eyes glancing from page to parlor every once in a while to check for a certain bearded man. The main lead is compelling, and your stomach soars as you imagine Daniel in a cowboy hat. Youâd save that horse.
Peace is hard to find while sitting poolside on a cruise, but chaos is actually the perfect white noise for you to read, and your concentration isnât broken until a shadow falls over your lounge chair. You glance up, but itâs not the man youâd wanted to see.
âHey.â Jakeâs already frowning, his face apprehensive like he thinks youâll scream at him to get away. You want to, but you donât want to cause a scene.
âWhat, Hangman?â
âIâm not trying to control you.â He pushes despite seeing your gaze back on your book, âI just donât think youâre meant to be with Daniel. But I shouldnât have given you a hassle for doing the same thing to me. I just⊠I do it because-â
He stops short, glancing sideways at a man running despite the clear no running sign on the lifeguard tower. You decide to help him in his moment of need.
âBecause youâre used to women who let you walk all over them. Even if youâre not trying to control me, youâre used to having that control. Itâs familiar for you, so you expect it, even if you donât know youâre doing it. But Iâm not like that. You canât keep me waiting on you.â
The scoff he lets out is accompanied by an expression that looks truly pained, âThat ainât it at all. But forget it. Donât worry about why I do it. I just thought maybe you were doinâ it to me for the same reasons. But never mind. Iâll shut up about Daniel. Truce?â
You glare up at him, book still open in your lap. He extends an uncharacteristically helping hand, and you wait a truly uncomfortable amount of time before taking it and shaking once.
âTruce.â
He takes the chair beside you, stretched out in the sun. Unfortunately, it seems like your reading time is over as his head turns to you, âSo, Dudley showed up yet?â
âHeâs coming for lunch.â You cling to your novel, trying desperately to ignore Jake and his instantly broken promise, âWhat about Melon girl, they werenât ripe enough for you?â
âShe wasnât my type.â He starts, and thereâs a heavy silence before he continues, âI donât like a woman who thinks itâs fun to get between a couple.â
The sideways glance you send Hangman, the âI-told-you-soâ smirk, is lethal.
âAnyways.â He continues, tone more casual now, âFancy a swim, darlinâ?â
âIâll read instead,â You offer, âBut you have fun, Hangman.â
âParty Pooper,â He accuses, standing from the lounge chair heâs occupying and stretching briefly, âYouâre an absolute mood-killer. No fun, the most boring person on this boat.â
âIâm about to be more of one: have you put sunscreen on?â
âNope,â He grins, âYou volunteering to do the honors, you sleazy thing?â
âAbsolutely not. But you can use the stuff in my bag.â You nod at your tote bag, âDonât use it all, though.â
âYes, maâam.â Jake nods, folding into a seat on the edge of the lounge chair beside yours, âSo, whatâs going on in that book, they boning yet?â
âMhm.â You nod absently as Jake begins smearing sunscreen over his arms and legs, âReal sexy stuff.â
âIâve got somethinâ sexier for you.â
âItâs a porn book, Hangman,â You clarify, in case heâs forgotten, âIâm trying to read porn. Leave me alone.â
âThereâs porn right here!â He calls, arms out to show off his impressively tanned and toned chest, a thick layer of sunscreen giving it a sheen that glistens in the light. As reluctant as you are to admire anything about Jake, you canât lie; he has a body worth ogling. But you will not ogle it.
âThis pornâs better,â You hum, glancing up at Jake through your lashes, deceptively inviting, âThis guyâs got a cowboy hat on.â
âIâve got a million and one cowboy hats,â Jake insists, slowly inching towards you and away from the edge of the pool, âIs that really all it takes, darlinâ? âCause I can slap one on in seconds, if thatâs what youâre after. âEven brought one with me in case my roommate was into it.â
âMm, maybe,â You let him get closer, excitement clearly swirling in his eyes as he advances towards your chair. He doesnât notice the shifting of your feet until itâs too late and one is shoving firmly against his chest, knocking him off balance and sending him tumbling backwards into the pool.
Thereâs not anyone in his immediate vicinity besides you, so you take the brunt of the splash, but itâs worth it.
âBut I like it better when the hatâs on a real gentleman!â You call, laughter interrupting your words as Jake emerges from the pool well and truly soaked, shaking water out of his hair. Heâs been thoroughly underwater trained, so heâd been able to catch his breath in time despite the surprise of it all, and thereâs no real harm done besides the initial splash.
âYou dirty rotten minx,â He calls, water dripping from his short hair into his eyes, âYou lured me in with the promise of cowboy hat sex just to push me in the pool?â
âI canât believe you fell for it!â Youâre still laughing, but maybe this bout of giggles is only to annoy him, âThatâs, like, the oldest trick in the book. Well, maybe besides the cowboy hat sex thing. But you shouldnât have gotten so close!â
He braces his elbows on the wall of the pool, the border surely burning his skin. But he stares at you regardless, âI thought you were finally givinâ in.â
âItâd take a lot more than a cowboy hat to make me give in, Jake.â You laugh, turning back to your book, âLike, a full personality transplant.â
Jake hears Danicaâs words repeated back to him in his head, âShow, donât tellâ.
âNoted. Iâll look into oneâuh those,â He quips, smile sarcastic and empty as he resorts to swimming alone, âHey, when youâre done with that chapter, you should join me.â
âNo.â
âAlright.â
You glance away from the bookâs pages at Hangmanâs unusual, immediate acceptance of your refusal. But he lifts himself out of the water- no stairs, no ladder, only his forearms against the deck, and your stomach sinks as you realize he might be playing a game of wills with you.
Instead, he sits beside you again, this time facing away from you, âWill you rub some sunscreen on my back?â
You want to say no. You would, if he were only asking to feel your hands on him. And maybe thatâs part of it, but you also know that as much as he tans, he could burn, and his back is the only part of himself that he canât reach. Youâd want someone to do you the solid too, so you sigh and set your book aside.
âFine. But you owe me.â
âMhm.â He nods, passing you the sunscreen, âIâll rub it wherever you want, Y/N.â
You whack him upside the head with the bottle, and when he hisses in pain and pitches forwards, you squirt some of the lotion onto your palm and begin applying it to the broad, tanned, muscled expanse of his back.
Youâre no masseuse, but apparently youâre rubbing all the right places, because Jake lets out grunts and groans that are borderline pornographic. If they were coming from anyone else, you might have squirmed in your seat, but each one sends your eyes rolling skywards as you cover Jakeâs skin in goopy sun lotion.
âDamn, youâre good.â Jake grunts as you dig into a knot beneath his shoulder blade, âDo that again?â
âIâm putting sunscreen on you, Jake, not working out muscle tension.â
âOh, come on, just a little more?â He pleads, turning so that he can glance at you from the side of his gaze, eyes shining in prayer.
You dig extra hard into his muscle, and you take some sort of wicked pleasure in the way that his resulting groan is more of a pained yelp than something of enjoyment.Â
âThere, Hangman.â You whack the middle of his back, between his shoulder blades, âYouâre all oiled up.â
âArenât you glad you were the one to get to do it?â Jake grins blindingly, and you bury your nose in your book again to avoid answering his question.
âOh, you can stick your face in that book all you want,â Jake drawls, and you hear the displacement of the water he steps in as he lowers himself into the pool, gracefully and by choice this time, âBut I know you liked having your hands all over me, darlinâ.â
You want to gripe something back- something witty and cutting that will tear him down where he stands, but heâs turned away from you, already submerging himself to begin swimming laps. You admire his dedication to exercise even while on vacation- you have no plans to visit the gym in the lower decks.
Jake sees the diving board just as you do, and you keep him in your peripheral vision as he climbs out of the pool to make his way up the ladder. Your novel is begging to be read, but your eyes stick firm on one fitting word- âabdomenâ so that you can watch Jake from the corner of your eye as he prepares to dive.
Fortunately, you donât need to continue the ruse of reading because Jake bellows from across the deck, âY/N, look!â
Youâre met with a grin when you look up at him, his arms raised above his head and joined flush together in diving position, âIâm gonna dive- watch me.â
âIâm watching.â You call, injecting your voice with as much disinterest as you can manage without feeling guilty, âThis feels like babysitting, Hangman.â
He dives instead of quipping back, and itâs an impressive one, not that youâll sing his praises for it. He comes up on the side of the pool closest to you, arms flinging an arc of water onto the concrete before you.
âWas it good?â He asks, panting slightly, hanging onto the wall.
âYes,â You reply, a sickly sweet smile on your face as you condescend to him, âYou did so good, honey.â
âShut up,â He sends a wave of water splashing over your sandals, and you canât be mad at him after all the teasing youâve been inflicting upon him.
âIâve been workinâ on my diving,â He goes back to swimming around, this time more casual as he keeps his head above the water to speak with you, âMy nieces back home are learninâ to swim so Iâve been in the pool a lot lately. Anytime they drag me in there I dive in and splash them.â
His arms cut through the water with strength and ease, confident strokes as you mull over his words. The image of Jake urging a toddler in floaties to cross a 3-foot gap into his arms is- endearing, not that youâll admit it. You hum in acknowledgement, and tuck back into your book.
Thereâs not many people in the pool this early- most are probably still in bed with a hangover and a mess to clean up - and itâs large to boot, so thereâs plenty of room. Your eyes drift left and catch sight of a jacuzzi, and suddenly your beach chair seems to pale in comparison.
Okay, you wonât join Jake in the pool, but youâll relax for a couple of minutes in the jacuzzi. Just until Daniel gets here.
Jake doesnât notice that youâve stood until your chair is empty, and you have a perfect view of him floundering, scanning the entire deck until he spots you half-submerged in the hot tub.
You get to laugh at him again, and he grants you a good-natured grin instead of getting annoyed.
âI thought youâd finally found whatâs-his-name,â Jake swims over to the separation wall that keeps the hot water parted from the cold, âMind if I join you, Y/N?â
âOnly if youâre- careful!â You shriek, trying desperately to protect the pages of your book from his sopping wet skin as he scales the barrier, âHangman, if this book gets wet, youâre replacing it for me.â
âAlright, alright! Iâll take you on a shopping spree, relax. Hey, if Iâm buyinâ you porn books, doesnât that make me somethinâ like a sugar daddy?â
âYouâre not getting any sugar,â You shrug, âBut sure.â
âJust call me daddy, Y/N.â He grins, âThatâs all the sugar I need.â
You hide behind your book so that he canât see the way your face wrinkles into a grimace. The heat from the jacuzzi spreads inexplicably quick all of a sudden, warming your neck, your ears, your face, and Jake lets out a thick, heavy groan as he settles into the warm water.
âThis is nice.â He muses, eyes closed, âReal relaxing.â
âItâs less relaxing when someoneâs talking the whole time,â You peek across the side of your book, âShut up, maybe?â
Jake snorts, leaning his head back against the edge of the pool, âAlright, alright your majesty. Iâll stay silent.â
You donât verbally thank him, but you donât make a scene when his leg drifts across the jet currents of the jacuzzi to brush against yours.
You cover a good chunk of your novel before a voice calls your name, and this time itâs the two people youâd been hoping to see all morning. Danica waves giddily at you and Jake, whoâs picked his head up from where you thought heâd fallen asleep and is already mad-dogging Daniel. You wave back to Danica, and cast a quick glance down at your bathing suit before standing to greet Daniel. Itâs just as tight and showy as you prefer it to be.Â
You pay no attention to Jake where he gets out behind you, too focused on Daniel to care. But perhaps you should have, because youâre two steps from meeting Daniel in the middle when Jakeâs strong arm shoves you sideways, and your book is wrenched from your grasp as you fall sideways into the pool.
Itâs cold, colder even because youâd been soaking in the hot tub. Youâre surprised, but you suppose you canât even really be mad at him considering itâs just payback for what heâd done to you.
Youâve barely righted yourself in the water before thereâs another splash beside you, and when you finally emerge thereâs hands reaching for your waist, Danielâs as you realize heâd jumped in to help you.Â
âYou-!â You splutter at Jake with bleary, chlorine-soaked eyes, attention split between Daniel whoâs trying to ensure youâre alright, and Jake whoâs snickering while holding your book in his thankfully dry hand.
âYou asshole.â Daniel finishes for you, âShe could have drowned!â
âI know how to swim,â You brace a hand on Danielâs chest- startlingly bare, but riddled with coarse, brown hair, âItâs fine, I- I pushed him in earlier.â
âRelax, Prince Charming. Itâs just a bit of payback. And look,â Jake waves your novel in front of you, âDry as a bone.â
âWell I am- uh, not.â You stand half-submerged in the pool, Daniel still holding onto your waist, âSo, I guess I will go swimming.â
âGreat. You can swim with us.â Daniel smiles, warm and inviting as he keeps his hands on you.
âYeah, us.â Jake agrees, taking Danicaâs towel and spreading it over a sunny lounge chair for her.
Jake helps lower Danica gently into the pool, holding her hand while she takes the stairs, before jumping in beside you so that youâre splashed by the wave he creates.
âYou are an asshole,â You laugh, breaking away from Danielâs grip to shove at Jakeâs shoulder. The grins on your faces are bright and genuine, perhaps the first time youâve both been able to laugh with each other the entire trip. It feels nice, and you donât fight when he shoves back at you with strong arms.
âHey- hey!â Danica shouts, standing behind Daniel with a hand on his shoulder, âWhy donât you turn that pushing and shoving into a game of chicken?â
âIâm down,â Daniel seems thrilled to be opposite Jake as he lowers himself for Danica to climb atop his shoulders, âY/N, you okay on his shoulders?â
Jake does the honors himself, dunking himself under the water and coming up between your legs. You barely have time to plant your hands on the top of his head, fingers twisting instinctively into his hair as you accidentally tug it while he stands at his full height again.
âShit, sorry Hangman.â You let go of his hair, hoping you hadnât yanked too hard. Heâs forgiven, for now, so you wonât resort to childish things like hair-pulling.
âThatâs okay, darlinâ.â He grins, craning his neck back to meet your eye, âI like it when you tug on my hair.â
You have to overlook Jakeâs suggestive comment as Danicaâs already reaching for you, and you eagerly engage in a shoving match while the two men beneath you plant themselves into the bottom of the pool. You manage to get a leg up on Danica, and theyâre both pushed backwards by the force of your shove, but Daniel surges forwards and ends up knocking you and his roommate right into each other.
You collapse against Danica, forehead-to-forehead, giggling like little girls. Her eyes are bright and shining with amusement, and her breath smells minty- like gum, not toothpaste. Youâre more than happy to begin pushing at each other again, and though youâre confident your navy-built muscles are going to prevail, she lands a critical shove against your shoulder that throws you off-balance and sends you toppling off of Jakeâs shoulders.
The water is cold, colder than you remember as you splash into it, and when you come up for air, already laughing, Jakeâs facing you, having turned when youâd fallen from his shoulders. Heâs grinning too, a hand already outstretched to help you up, but upon seeing you stand his eyes widen and his face drops.
âShit.â He lunges for you, cutting through the water as his arm wraps around your back to yank you tight against his chest. You protest, grunting with exertion as you try fighting against his grip. But his muscles are impressive, and youâre trapped against his chest despite your best efforts.
âWould you cut it out? Iâm trying to help you. Your top came untied.â
âWhat?â You splutter, water trailing down your face as you quell your instinctive struggle against his crushing hold. You realize that the reason for the extreme cold had, in fact, been because your bikini top had abandoned ship, and you barely have time to process the feeling of your bare tits slammed up against Jakeâs hard, toned chest before heâs fishing the bathing suit out of the water and feeding it around your waist.
âUp,â He instructs, lifting his eyes to the expansive blue sky above you so that you can separate yourself from his chest for long enough to cover your own again. Itâs- a strange gesture of courtesy that you would have expected from Daniel, sure, but not Jake. Perhaps thatâs why youâre so sluggish, why it takes you longer than expected to fit your top back over your tits and grapple with the strings.
âYou decent?â Jake asks, and when you grunt in confirmation he drops his eyes again. He notices you struggling with the ties and reaches for them himself, gently swatting your fingers away as he uses his advantage of sight. It presses his muscular shoulder up against your face, and you turn so that your cheek rests against it instead of your nose. Suddenly youâre held against his chest like a slow dance, and something terribly and inexplicably squirmy happens in your stomach.
âDone. I double knotted it.â He hums, and itâs such a sincere tone, one thatâs completely vacant of all his usual dickishness, that you lose yourself staring at his face when he pulls away. You begin examining it for any sign that perhaps he was murdered and replaced with a poorly-trained doppelganger.
His hair looks right, albeit sopping wet. His eyebrows are growing slightly bushier than usual, but nothing youâd consider a complete and total imposter. His nose is still the same: strong, slightly downturned (though not as far as Roosterâs), and thereâs a tiny patch of sunscreen that hasnât been rubbed in near his right eye. His mouth is set in a determined purse as he double knots the strings of your bikini top together, and his eyes- his eyes are different.
Miles different than youâve ever seen them. The outside edge of his hazel-green rings is softened, like someone has blurred their usual sharp border and lined it with suede. His pupils are huge, and theyâd be eclipsing his irises if those werenât so big and puppy-like. He is, in every sense of the word, gentle, inside and out.Â
Jake has never been gentle before.Â
âYou alright?â He asks, and you snap back to reality with his large hands spread over the expanse of your bare back, the eyes that youâd been examining firmly and concernedly fixed upon you. Only a few meager strings separate his skin from yours, and you nod once, steadily as you gently push his arms off of you.
âLetâs go again,â You call to Danica and Daniel, your voice a piss-poor attempt at strength and nonchalance as it lacks its usual life, âGood hit, Danica. But watch out, Iâm gonna kick your ass.â
âBring it,â She grins gleefully, and her giddy gaze drifts downwards to Jakeâs face when he lifts you onto his shoulders yet again. From the looks of it they share some sort of silent conversation- some inside joke that youâre not privy to.Â
Something about that, something about her excluding you from a conversation with your own teammate makes you shove her, not enough to knock her off of Danielâs shoulders, but enough to show her that youâre not going easy on her. She shrieks giddily as she writhes to stay balanced on Danielâs shoulders, a smidge less broad than Jakeâs. Youâre thankful for that, for the steady mount youâve got, as you resume pushing and shoving at Danica.
Jake is going insane. Not only does the phantom sensation of your bare tits- nipples hard from the chilly pool water - stick to him like a wet t-shirt, he can feel you against the back of his neck, your warm sex nestled snugly against him with only the bottom half of your bikini to separate you. Your thighs bracket his head, close enough for him to reach out and bite at, but he has to focus on keeping his stance sturdy so that you can play properly. Danielâs glaring viciously at him across the few feet that separates the four of you, and heâs not going to let Mr. Mailman win.Â
This time, Jake suspects youâve used that military muscle of yours, because Danica slips backwards off of Danielâs dewy shoulders and splashes into the pool. Your hand cups beneath Jakeâs chin, tilting his head upwards and leaning it back into your lap.
âNice one,â He grins upside-down at you, and you bump your fist against his when he offers it. Then youâre craning your neck down, surely uncomfortable as you leave mere inches between your lips and his, and his ears are ringing.
âBack up,â You murmur, disguising it as a congratulatory speech while Daniel helps Danica back onto his shoulders, âGet them to chase us and weâll use the momentum against them.â
âDarlinâ,â Jake proclaims, pride puffing up his chest that your legs are resting against, âYouâre my kinda woman. Always looking to win.â
âJust do it, Hangman,â You scoff, but your eye-roll is less than irritated, fond if anything due to your partnership as Jake drops his head to face Daniel and Danica once more.
Jake stands in place where heâd been before, but when Danica engages with you he begins backing up. Slowly, carefully, ensuring that his feet are planted steadily each step so that youâre not tipped over, he makes his way towards the drop off towards the deeper end of the water. Daniel follows, taking the bait, and soon enough his predicament becomes obvious: heâs not as tall as Jake.
He stands somewhere close to six feet, surely, but not past it like Jake does. Your partnerâs head is still comfortably above water, smirk in full force as Danielâs beard becomes waterlogged.Â
âThatâs not fair!â Danica laughs, petting sympathetically at Danielâs sopping wet hair, âPoor guy, weâll get you stilts for the next round.â
Daniel lands a teasing pinch against the curve of her ass and she shrieks. You lunge for her, using her momentary shock to catch her off guard as you send her tumbling backwards into the water behind Daniel.Â
You donât have time to celebrate before Jake is ducking down and slipping himself out from beneath you, his strong arms bracing your fall so that you barely sink a few feet into the water. He crushes you in a celebratory hug, his laughter harmonizing with your own. He turns you both to face Daniel and Danica as they splutter to catch their breath, his cheek pressed flush against your own.Â
âChicken Champions,â He declares, holding you tight to his side at his own height, which means your feet float above his own in the water, âIâd offer to go again, but thatâd just be cruel. You ladies wanna chatter in the hot tub while Danny-Boy and I show off on the diving board?â
âI brought a book,â Danica hums, face dripping with water you feel only mildly guilty for submerging her in, âIf you wanna read, Y/N, Iâll do it with you.â
âPerfect.â Daniel nods, already cutting through the water on his way to the diving board, âIâll be careful not to splash you guys.â
âI wonât.â Jake supplies helpfully, his grin turned shit-eating as he eyes you up, âNo point in reading one of them smutty porn books if youâre not soaking wet.â
âSplash me and Iâll throw your room key off the side of the boat, Hangman,â You promise, âYouâll be begging strangers to take pity on you in the elevator.â
âNah, thatâs not my style,â Jakeâs voice is dripping with intent while Daniel takes position on the diving board, his swim trunks dripping steady trails of water. You donât know why until he continues, taking his own bait, âIâll leave that to Daniel.â
You blame Jakeâs comment for why Danielâs dive nearly turns into a belly flop. Itâs instantaneous, really, Danielâs changing of posture as he registerâs Jakeâs biting words, and you have half a mind to admonish Jake for riling Daniel up during a dive- that could have ended badly. As it stands, Daniel does a sort of cannonball, though not intentionally, and you and Danica cringe in unison when he lands, sending water splashing well over the divider into the hot tub. Your book remains mostly unscathed- only a droplet of water lands on the cover and obscures the male leadâs face, blurring out his beard and making him appear clean-shaven.Â
Jake is already scaling the ladder, and when he gets to the top he surveys Daniel emerging from the water.
âSix,â He shrugs, sneering down at Daniel from the highest point on the deck, ââCouldâve clinched a seven if you hadnât splashed the ladies, but your form was still shit.â
He doesnât give Daniel a chance to fire back- or maybe the man is just too smart to take Jakeâs bait - before he sets his arms together above his head, and seamlessly, impeccably cuts through the water. For someone so muscular and bulky, his form is graceful- not that youâll ever tell him that. Water arcs outwards from where heâd landed, one half of the splash practically targeting Daniel where he stands watching.
He swims farther, nearly reaching the other end of the pool before he emerges, shaking water from his hair like a dog as he looks intently at you and Danica in the hot tub for a rating.
âTen!â Your reading companion shouts, blessedly unaware of the tense atmosphere- or again, too intelligent to fall for Jakeâs lowly antics- and you look at the water-stained cover of your novel.
You smear away the water droplet with your dry thumb, and the male main characterâs beard returns.
âFour.â You call, voice deadpan as you lock your eyes on your novel, âFor playing dirty and sabotaging the other contestants.â
Hangmanâs grin is open-mouthed and cemented into place as he stands taller than Daniel in the water, tanned skin standing starkly out from the blue of the chlorinated water, âDirtyâs the best way to play, darlinâ.â
Danica shoots you a look from behind the spread of her novel that youâve sent many-a-girlfriend before. Itâs the wide-eyed, restrained smile that screams âWeâre talking about this laterâ, and you mirror her expression with your own disdain.
âLeave us alone,â You call, grinning apologetically at Daniel so that he knows heâs only a bystander, âWe want to read.â
âLetâs leave the ladies to their smut, Dorian.â Jake calls, louder than he needs to be as he stretches to display his toned abdomen and muscled arms, âWe can find our own fun. Wanna see who can swim the fastest? Place your bets, ladies: pilot or mailman?â
âYou swam pretty slow when you crash-landed in the Pacific that one time,â You muse, fighting to keep a smirk off of your face, âI remember thinking you would die in the time it took for you to swim back to shore.â
âWouldnâtâve gone so slow if I wasnât hauling my RIO back to shore. He hit his head on the way down,â Jake dips his head towards Danica, happily regaling her with the tale, and you realize youâve only fluffed his ego more, âSo he was unconscious. Well I couldnât just leave him there, âpoor guy was only a trainee. So I took him along. It did slow me down, but,â He heaves a disgusting, gaudy, fake sigh, âIt was worth it to send him back home to his mama.â
You taste a hint of blood where youâve apparently chewed through your lip. You let it go and hope nothing escapes your mouth. It would be a shame to stain the pages of your novel red.
Youâre trying very hard not to pay attention to Jake and Danica where heâs engaged her in a staring contest. Well, you suppose itâs not much of a contest that she can win: the point is that youâre losing. Jakeâs showing off his impressive build, still running his mouth with every vaguely self-complementary anecdote he can embellish, and Danica is taking the bait, which means that your rampant attempts to cool Jakeâs ego have failed.Â
You let the warm, borderline-hot water sink into your skin and simmer alongside the building irritation that threatens to blow beneath the surface. Youâre tired. This was supposed to be a relaxing vacation for you- or, if not relaxing, a good way to blow off steam. You were supposed to be bent in half up against the shower wall by now, not bending the pages of your book with the strong grip youâve cemented onto them while you mediate Jakeâs ego and the willingness of so many women to accommodate it.Â
Part of you wants to let loose and have fun- not with Jake, of course. Never with Jake. But part of you wants to act rationally, forget the constant rivalry between you two and let him shack up with whoever will show him her tits first. But the other part of you, the one that cheers every time he places second in a show of skill, wants to knock him down a peg. Itâs why youâre so persistently humbling him- or, trying to, at least. Something about him putting on this cocky persona- erasing all human emotion to make way for pure sleaze puts you on edge, and you pity the fool who believes it.
You canât tell if Danicaâs that fool yet, because sheâs turned back to her book with a smile, but to her credit she doesnât ogle him while heâs swimming. It would be easy to- heâs all tanned muscle and gestures that show off just the right curve or vein. He knows how to preen, but Danica seems to be minding her own business. That makes it easier for you to read your own novel; you donât feel like you have to keep an eye out for her anymore.
Youâre not sure whether itâs a love for the act or a wordless competition to outswim the other that keeps Jake and Daniel occupied with lapping the pool for so long, but as more and more people filter out of their rooms and onto the deck, thereâs not much room for recreation anymore.
âAre you done?â You ask Danica, peering over at her after someone unknowingly sends a wave of water straight for you both, narrowly avoiding soaking your novels.
âI think Iâm done.â She nods sheepishly, rushing to stand and keep her book dry, âShould we run away before the men notice weâre leaving?â
âExcellent plan,â You laugh, but you can practically feel Jakeâs eagle eye upon you as you race for your towel, leaving soaked footprints behind on the wooden deck, âWe should go get some pizza. Theyâre making more now that itâs a little busier out here.â
âYou shouldnât stare like that.â Danielâs irritatingly smooth voice, pitched up slightly from Jakeâs and entirely free of Jakeâs rugged charm, makes Jakeâs lips yearn to curl into a sneer.
Jake pivots in the cold pool water to face Daniel rather unimpressed, a scoff begging to burst from his lips, âLike what?â
âLike sheâs a piece of meat, or something.â Danielâs arms are crossed, and Jake plants his feet firmly against the concrete floor of the pool.
âOh, youâre so virtuous,â Jake drawls, his skin burning and not from the rays of sun hitting it directly, âYou frenched her in an elevator, Daniel, youâve got no room to be talking to me about class.â
âShe wanted me to kiss her. She kissed me.â Daniel insists, and Jake laughs- actually laughs, a grit of his teeth and a forceful exhalation of air, âThatâs different than staring at her ass while she runs away from you like youâd flip her skirt up at a drive-in movie theater.â
âFlipping skirts,â Jake laughs, sadistic grin in full force, âDaniel, Iâm not that old fashioned! Please, sheâs in a bathing suit that she chose, for a sex cruise that she booked, and you know what? She probably wants you to be staring at her ass in it. And you donât seem too concerned with the other people on the deck, Iâm sure a few of them are looking too. And are you worried Iâm looking at Danicaâs ass?â
âYouâre not looking at Danicaâs ass.â Daniel nearly bites his tongue in an effort to keep his voice level, âBecause youâre not interested in Danica. Youâre interested in Y/N and you canât have her. Sheâs not yours.â
âSheâs not yours, either.â Jake spits, and thereâs a moment of silence where both menâs chests heave with barely-suppressed tension. Jake realizes that heâs admitted to Daniel that he has no real claim over you, but the other man doesnât fight back against not having one of his own. But you are his, you are Jakeâs, in the way youâd fallen asleep in his arms last night, in the look in your eyes when youâd stared into his own earlier, in the stain on his pajama pants.
Youâd moaned his name- his name, not Danielâs.
Someone knocks into Daniel from behind, backing right into him and nudging him slightly off balance.
âOh!â The woman shrieks, âIâm sorry! I wasnât paying attention.â
âItâs fine.â He offers her a tight smile, heading for the ladder, âDonât worry about it.â
Jake hauls himself up out of the pool with nothing but his forearms, using his towel to dry his hair if only to show off the expanse of his chest to any who may be watching. He checks- youâre not.
âSo,â Danica leans forwards into your space at the pizza counter, eyes meaningfully wide, âTell me why heâs acting like this.â
âHe always acts like this.â You scoff, and when she levels you with an unimpressed glare, you insist, âNo, really! Heâs just- everything is a competition to him, everything. I met his mom once, and she told me that he used to have races at the dinner table to see who could finish their food first. He kept making himself sick but as long as heâd beat his brothers he didnât care. He always has to win, and right now, heâs competing for us.â
âNo, heâs competing for you.â Danica corrects you, âIs he winning?â
âHell no. Heâs- heâs not really competing for me, not meaningfully. He just wants to say he âgot meâ, you know? That would be major bragging rights on the tarmac. But thatâs exactly why I canât give in- I canât be known as the woman who slept with her fellow pilot! Then they wouldnât see my achievements anymore, just my mistakes.â
âI get that.â She nods, âBut how do you know heâs just gonna dump you?â
âIâve watched him dump the whole of San Diego,â You scoff, âThatâs what he does. He doesnât do love, heâs the kind of guy whoâs only ever interested in something quick and dirty.â
âEveryone does love.â Danica frowns, âSome people just start later in life than others. And I think heâs starting now. With you.â
âLove,â You laugh, and sure, itâs dramatic, but if it gets through to her, you donât care, âA man who loves me would not have tormented me for my entire career.â
She tilts her head thoughtfully, âI think he does. Even if he doesn't act the way you think he should, even if he doesn't act the way you would, I think he does love you. I think he just loves differently. I think he's new to it. What has he done to torment you?â
You huff, grateful for the opportunity to vent, âHe constantly tries one-upping me- again, he canât lose. He just- he pokes and prods and teases me like weâre on the playground or something, and itâs non-stop. Itâs not like heâs sweet most of the time and then thereâs a few bouts of light teasing, itâs- itâs constant, and I canât ever let my guard down, or Iâll lose.â
âSo youâre fighting to win, too.â Her eyes narrow slightly, âWhy?â
âBecause. I can't be second-best, and I canât be known as the woman who slept with her coworker. Iâm not doing that.â You repeat.
âOh," She laughs, "So you're both stubborn. You don't want to lose, either. But second-best is temporary, rankings come and go. And I understand your thing about not wanting to be known for sleeping with him, but even if you did sleep with him, the whole Navy doesnât have to know.â
âThey will, Hangman will brag. He always brags.â
âHe wonât- not if heâs in love with you, not if you want him to keep it private.â
âHeâs not in love with me-!â
âFour slices of Pepperoni, two cheese?â A large tray is placed between you and Danica at the counter youâre both leaning against, and it snaps the two of you out of your debate.
You turn to see one of the employees looking expectantly at you, and Danica stammers, âUh, three cheese.â
âSorry.â He smiles placatingly at her, scooping another slice onto the plate, âThree cheese.â
âThank you.â You take the pepperoni pizza, leaving Danica to collect the cheese. You feel bad for walking away, even if you know sheâs hot on your trail, but you feel frustratingly suffocated, like everyone is urging you to make the biggest mistake of your life and never considering why you simply canât. She doesnât know Jake, she hasnât spent the last decade with him as heâs blown his way through tourist after tourist, bragging all the while. And he doesnât understand what it would be like- even if he wasnât looking to win, even if he did just want to try casual sex for fun, youâd never be able to escape that reputation.Â
You feel like youâre going crazy, and you plop down between Jake and Daniel where they sit at opposite sides of a table, ready to stuff your face with pizza instead of dealing with any of it.
feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!
#jake seresin#jake seresin x reader#jake seresin imagine#jake seresin x you#jake seresin x y/n#jake seresin fluff#jake seresin blurb#jake seresin oneshot#jake seresin fanfic#jake seresin fic#hangman#hangman x reader#hangman imagine#hangman x you#hangman x y/n#hangman fluff#hangman blurb#hangman oneshot#hangman drabble#jake seresin drabble#jake seresin x reader fanfiction#hangman fanfic#hangman fic#jake hangman seresin#jake hangman seresin x reader#jake hangman seresin fanfiction#jake hangman seresin imagine#hangman x reader fanfiction#jake hangman seresin fanfic#glen powell x reader
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Oh my God, you mentioned wanting to write a thing about when Starrk finally let's his reiatsu out, and honestly, I've been thinking about that so much!!! Like here is Starrk, who has been keeping his reiatsu down to around average, who sleeps all the time, so doesn't stand out, who stands beside Ichigo, Ichigo who crazy stands out, also Starrk who joins the 4th, the 4th who everyone else considers to be weaklings!! You imagine the look on everyone's face the first time he let's lose!?! Maybe some bullying goes too far, and Starrk, who nobody thinks much of, just smacks them down hard!!! And everyone is like WTF lol đ
sorry, I just love the idea of when people realize that Starrk is actually strong like Ichigo!! So đ funny!! Anyway, thanks for sharing your thoughts about this. I love reading them.
Lol yes it's one of those scenes that you see happen in so many different ways and all of them would be fun. I'm undecided on how I want to do it Officially so I'm putting it off (or maybe I'll just write several of them lmao).
I imagine it would have to be very serious bullying for Starrk to take that much action, cuz like he really isn't the sort to step in for every little thing. If it happens to someone he considers one of his, he might note it down and then quietly go and prevent it from happening again from behind the scenes, but in real time, he'd rather diffuse the situation or leave it to the "victim" to handle it and only step in if it looks like they really can't, and even stepping in would just be a sharp word or two to run the bully off. He's not a straightforward bleeding heart the way Ichigo is, cuz the hit-the-problem-so-it's-no-longer-a-problem method is def Ichigo's go-to strategy, he would absolutely smack the shit out of someone bullying Asuka or Rangiku in front of him and be done with it right then and there, prob flaring his reiatsu without even meaning to cuz his control's a lot better these days but it's also kind of 0 to 50, well-hidden or flashing neon sign, no in-between unless he really concentrates đ It's another reason Starrk would have little reason of his own to act, cuz like Ichigo would absolutely beat him to it.
For me, I could prob imagine him unleashing his reiatsu/revealing his strength if someone's about to die and the threat is big enough that he actually has to flex. He's just not someone who'd easily show what he can do, and hiding it from the likes of Aizen and the Quincy wouldn't even be his top reason. It's more like lingering PTSD--his strength doesn't bother him anymore now that he's had years of proven control under his belt, and he's even needed every last bit of his power over the past decade of war, but subconsciously, he's still not 100% comfortable with just letting anyone feel it, even tho he has enough control now that it wouldn't hurt them unless he wants it to because what if? So like, his first instinct will always be to keep it locked down, and for minor stuff (altho minor is relative for him I guess lolol), pulling out that much power is def a last resort.
Again, it contrasts what Ichigo would do. Ichigo's just used to overkill. Like even before he got his powers, he learned that an overwhelming show of strength would solve most of his gangster-related problems very easily, plus he lived in a household where Isshin only backed off from kicking him into a wall or something by kicking first or kicking back. And then after he got his powers, it's not even really his fault that he internalized a "might is right" kind of mindset /points at the entire fucking SS invasion arc and honestly every arc after that/. And also he spent his first years of Shinigami-ing running around with an unsealed Zanpakutou and zero reiatsu control, being in a constant state of Shikai is natural for him, and (moving into this AU's headcanon territory) it took him several months into the Quincy War before he finally learned to seal it away and actually have other ways of fighting that isn't just flinging Getsuga Tenshous around. He uses Bankai the way other people use hand-to-hand combat or Kidou spells, so even now, his first instinct is to just hit the problem hard enough so that it won't get back up to do more harm, and for him, that applies to everything from schoolyard bullying to fighting monster-gods. And on top of all that, his actions are largely driven by emotion. More than anything else, his first reflex is to protect, and that often leads to him throwing way more power at a threat than he actually needs to. He knows how to be more subtle these days, but it's not his preferred method and def not a reflex either the way it is with Starrk.
Of course, Starrk also understands "might is right" just by dint of being a Hollow, but he's basically spent a thousand years as someone too strong for anyone to fuck with just by existing, so he doesn't have the same kind of exposure to physical conflict that Ichigo grew up with that would make violence his first instinct.
Aanndd omg this ran away from me lmao sorry, you get a speedrun analysis on Starrk and Ichigo instead đ
TLDR I'm still not sure of any exact scenarios that would force Starrk to show his hand, I don't want to wait until a Sternritter shows up or a final showdown vs. Aizen happens because that would take forever before we get there (I mean I could just jump right in there since this isn't a whole fic, but in-universe-timeline-wise, I'd prefer it happening earlier), but it's difficult for me to imagine that something in everyday life or even just a Hollow extermination mission would be enough to make him reveal even a bit of what he can really do.
Case in point, if you remember that mission in SP canon where Shunsui brings Ichigo and Rangiku along on a mission into the Rukongai to gain experience, and Ichigo sees a Hollow about to attack Shinji who hadn't spotted it yet, but he also didn't want to leave Rangiku unprotected, he went straight for unsealing his Zanpakutou and basically hand-delivering a shopping list of unusual or downright unique abilities to Aizen via Gin. In this AU, if Starrk goes along, he would never do such a thing, and in fact, he'd stop Ichigo and just fire a damn Byakurai or something across the clearing and kill it that way. Even if Ichigo doesn't have the finesse to pull off a low-numbered Kidou spell on the fly, he could've chosen a higher-numbered one and that would've still revealed far less to Aizen than unsealing his Zanpakutou would. But again, subtlety isn't his strong suit. He now at least has the presence of mind to think about the consequence of leaping into the fray without thought, it would leave Rangiku wide open, but his first instinct is still to use overwhelming strength to protect the people he cares about.
In contrast, Starrk may be a soft touch compared to basically every other Hollow and quite a few Shinigami, but he has the maturity and just the general personality to go for the strategic option. He has a far more tactical mind, implied even in canon to rival Shunsui in that department, so rushing in just isn't in his nature.
The only other way imo is if someone just... asks. Reikaku (reiatsu-sensing) is a thing Shinigami learn. In canon people can sense exactly who's coming just by their reiatsu (if they know them), not just if they're a Shinigami or a Hollow or even a Human, but it doesn't really expand on how. So I imagine you have to have a good feel for the person's reiatsu, it's the same as my age headcanon for reiatsu, not only can someone halfway decent at sensing reiatsu be able to get an idea of the other person's age, they would also be able to recognize and associate that reiatsu signature with that person since everybody's is different, but obviously they would have to be exposed to it a few times to learn it. Starrk's reiatsu is very unique so once or twice would be enough, and I can see a situation where the kids might ask to feel it for that reason, or a mission might require the team leader to ask, etc. etc. So yeah, that's all I got.
#man this got long i'm sorry#and vaguely off-topic???#bleach#coyote starrk#kurosaki ichigo#ichigo & starrk time travel verse
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with you in a distorted fairy tale àŒ»Âš*:·.
'dark if ' chapter 2 - elbert greetia
<- Chapter 1
This is a fan translation and may not be 100% accurate. I do not own anything. Cybird reserves the right of ownership for all in-game content.
author's note: Throughout this story, Kate refers to Elbert with feminine pronouns ćœŒć„ł, and Elbert's title is the Queen ć„łç. Therefore, in sentences where Elbert is the main subject, sometimes you will see Elbert's pronouns listed as she/her. (i.e, "Elbert removed her hands"). This may be a bit confusing to read through, but I wanted to keep the translation as accurate and close to the original material as possible.
Mirror Alfons: I've come to see the Princes gathered here--... Ah, no well, to see what was going on, but...
Mirror Alfons: My dear Elbert and Miss Kate, why on earth are you two so exhausted?
Mirror Alfons: Not to mention, I don't even see any Princes around.
Kate: Ah, those who came here all posed some type of problem, so we've asked each and every one of them to leave.
Some of them actually went after Queen Elbert, others were after the gold and silver treasures of this castle, and still others were only interested in picking up the maids.
To top it all off, the moment I was alone with a suitor, he tried to attack me.... the list just goes on and on.
Queen Elbert: All the men we called here today have been rejected.
Mirror Alfons: My goodness, what an utter failure. Well, at least Miss Kate seems somewhat alright.
Kate: Whenever there was a problem, Queen Elbert would step in.
Queen Elbert: I didn't think a single one of those men would make you more beautiful.....
Kate: Exactly! Yes, thank you Queen Elbert...
If I thanked him, Elbert would smile at me.
To be honest, I don't remember any of the faces of the men I met today. Elbert's smile was just so dazzling... I was sure I'd never forget it.....
Mirror Alfons: Oh my... you two are staring at each other quite passionately. You two must have become quite close, no?
Mirror Alfons: Why, when I picked you up, you had all your hair standing on their ends, much like a stray cat.
Kate: Well... when you took me in, I mistakenly thought that Queen Elbert was a scary person.
I was wary of Elbert because there was a possibility that he would harm me, just like the true fairy tale story.
Kate: But, after spending more time with her, it became very apparent that Queen Elbert is a nice and kind person.
Kate: How could I not fall in love.... with someone like Elbert?
Queen Elbert: .....thank you, Kate.
Kate: It would be amazing if Elbert was actually a prince...
Since Lady Elbert was a Queen, that would be impossible. And if someone as wonderful as she were to appear before me, I would choose him as my prince with no hesitation.
I mumbled these thoughts to myself....
Queen Elbert: Thank you Kate.... to be admired in such a way, by you.... makes me happy.
Queen Elbert: And... the way you are trying so earnestly to find your prince, makes you seem radiant....
Queen Elbert: I feel like I'm getting closer to finding the most beautiful thing in the world that I desire.
I was once again captivated by a happy Elbert's exquisite smile.
(...aahhh no! I have to find my prince! I don't have any time to be attracted to the Queen!)
I was desperate to calm my pounding heart, which was beating wildly on its own.
Kate: Ahem, well.. In any case, I'll try my best to find my prince again starting tomorrow.
--time skip--
The search for the Prince lasted several days, only to end with fruitless results.
Queen Elbert: Let's take a break from searching for princes today.
While finishing breakfast, Elbert spoke up.
Kate: Yeah, we should... we won't find anyone at all if it keeps up at this rate.
(If this is the turn out so far, then no doubt what is missing from this story is the Prince.)
(To straighten out the story, I think it would be best to find someone to just fill in as the "missing Prince".)
(The Prince huh.....)
I unconsciously looked over at Elbert, who was having breakfast at the opposite side of the table.
(No, noo... She is a Queen!! She can't be a prince!!!!....)
Queen Elbert: ....Kate? You look gloomy.... is something wrong?
Kate: No not at all! It's just troubling, not being able to find the Prince.
(It was such a shame that Elbert couldn't become the Prince... and more so that I can't say that out loud.)
I put on a silly smile to cover up my thoughts.
After studying my face for some time, Elbert softly spoke.
Queen Elbert: Since we are not searching for princes today... I would be delighted if you join me in browsing for new clothes for you. If you'd like...
--after the tailor brings a catalogue--
Kate: Waaaoow!
After breakfast, Elbert showed me to a room filled with dresses and jewelry.
Tailor: Thank you very much for your order this time.
Tailor: We have a ride range of items today, from trendy articles to designs that have been loved for ages.
Tailor: Please let us know if you need help in trying on any of the items.
Kate: Heheh... Lady Elbert, anything here would look good on you!
Queen Elbert: Ah, no, not now... Today, I am choosing your new dress.
Kate: M- mine?!
Queen Elbert: A new dress will surely help you find your prince.
Queen Elbert: Plus, I thought this would be a nice change of pace for you...
(Oh... I think Elbert is trying to cheer me up because I'm feeling down since I can't find a prince.)
(.....what an extremely kinda person...)
Kate: Aah.. thank you so very much, Elbert!!
Kate: Since this is a rare opportunity, I'll take you up on your offer!
My heart is filled with Elbert's consideration for me, and just thinking about it makes me feel better.
Then, after looking at some dresses with Elbert, I decided to buy one that I particularly liked.
Queen Elbert: ....just one dress?
Kate: Yes, and it's plenty! Thank you for everything.
To treat me, Snow White, so very well.... Queen Elbert is certainly different from the Queen of the original story.
(Maybe this... is a direct consequence of the distorted fairy tale?)
As long as I could remain by the kind Elbert's side, maybe I would be alright staying trapped here...
I then shook my head to clear away the selfish thoughts that crossed my mind.
Kate: By the way, why don't you pick out a new dress too, Lady Elbert?
Kate: Or next time, please allow me to find one for you!
Queen Elbert: Oh, no I-......
Elbert lowered her eyes in confusion, but I think she was just being reserved.
I looked around the room at all the dresses lined up. Then-
Kate: Look, what about this one, Elbert? I think this would look great on you.
Tailor: Ah- pardon me for intruding but... Miss.. that clothing is for men..
Tailor: Even though the Queen is indeed the type of person that could look good in anything, this is... a bit...
Kate: Eh?! *looks at the clothing she is holding* A-aaahh yes... you are very right.... please excuse what I said!
(Truly, the outfit I chose is clearly a man's outfit from every angle.....) [1]
[1] Here, signs are showing of Alfons's power weakening and Kate getting confused at what is true/what she is seeing. She is outwardly agreeing that Elbert is a woman, but her instincts sense and feel Elbie to be a man.
(Why exactly did I think this would suit Elbert so well??)
(Even though Elbert is clearly a "woman".)
Queen Elbert: Kate. I appreciate your thoughts, but I like my current clothes, so I don't think... I need anything new....
Kate: Oh is that so..
Queen Elbert: I'm so sorry.. even though you took the time to choose something...
Kate: Oh no! Sorry for being so intrusive...
In the end, Elbert only bought a dress for me, and nothing for herself.
--after dinner--
When returning to my room after eating dinner, Alfons called out to me.
Mirror Alfons: I heard that, apparently, you were trying to buy some men's clothes for Elbert.
Kate: Oh.. at that time, I thought those men's clothes would look good on her.
Kate: ..... That's strange, isn't it? Lady Elbert is a beautiful woman......
Mirror Alfons: Yes, that is strange indeed. "Lady Elbert is a beautiful woman."
As he agreed with my sentiment, Alfons removed his gloves and stroked the back of my neck.
Kate: ....? What.. what was that, suddenly....
Mirror Alfons: You started speaking strangely, so strangely that I thought you had a fever.... alas, your temperature was normal.
Kate: Normally, you don't check the temperature for a fever at the nape of the neck....
Although I was confused by Alfons's behavior, ultimately it was Elbert that occupied all the space in my mind.
Kate: ...Alfons, why is it that Elbert collects beautiful things?
Mirror Alfons: That's an easy question to answer, though, well.. I'm not sure if I should answer it.
Kate: Hmm, as I thought.....
Mirror Alfons: *unsettled* 'As you thought'...?
Kate: When Elbert says she likes collecting beautiful things, she sounds desperate and... painful...
Kate: It didn't seem like she was just collecting things just because she liked to.
It almost felt like she was forcing herself into a corner and exacting punishment by having to find something beautiful.
Kate: So, I'm glad to know there are at least some circumstances as to why it's difficult to say so..
Kate: I will be sure not to ask Elbert herself why she collects them...
Mirror Alfons: And so, you decided to ask me beforehand.
Kate: Yes. I was sure even attempting to bring it up would hurt Elbert's feelings.
Mirror Alfons: .......
Mirror Alfons: ..........maybe you can heal El's wounds.
Kate: ...what?
Mirror Alfons: ..I've changed my mind. Let me show you.. the truth.
Saying that, Alfons handed me a key.
--scene switch--
I went to the location Alfons told me about and used the key to open the door.
(What hides in the basement of this castle...?)
Alfons told me to use the key to get into this room, but nothing more.
(I guess one can tell just by looking at it but... it's freezing cold down here..)
Rubbing my numb hands together, I had walked a few steps into the stone room when I spotted something.
(Is that... a coffin?)
In the center of the room was a gorgeous coffin made of glass.
(In the original story, the one in the glass coffin is supposed to be Snow White.... me...)
I was almost frightened at the scene, but I managed to endure it and take another step, peering into the coffin.
(Who is inside this...?)
The coffin bed was covered in flowers and a woman was lying on top of it.
(An extremely beautiful woman...)
And I was sure she was dead, for she wasn't moving at all.
It was so beautiful that I lost all sense of being scared.
(But why is there a body in Queen Elbert's castle...?)
Queen Elbert: ...Who is there?
Kate: ..!!!
Queen Elbert: Kate...? Why? Why are you here..??
Seeing me standing in front of the coffin, Queen Elbert's face stiffened.
Kate: Th-.. well that's... I-.. Alfons gave me this key, and then I...
Queen Elbert: Al, huh...
Kate: Elbert... who is this woman?
<- Chapter 1 Premium End -> coming soon
page dividers by @/adornedwithlight
#ikemen villains#cybird ikemen#ikemen series#ikevil#elbert greetia#ikemen villains elbert#ikevil elbert#yandere#fairytale#fairy tale#fairycore#ikevil story event#ikevil translations#alternate universe#snow white#ikevil alfons#alfons sylvatica
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A reason to start over new - T. Jost
Summary: Itâs been five years since Lucy has seen her ex-boyfriend Tyson. Can his grandparentsâ Christmas party fix their broken hearts?
Happy birthday @senditcolton! This is my fic for your birthday bingo â I had a lot of fun with this one! I chose The Hand Touch, Exes to Lovers, Free Space (Resolved Angst), âYouâre Too Good for Meâ, and Winter Romance, making it a full bingo! Hope you have a wonderful day Nicole.
A massive thank you to @jostyriggslover96 for reading through this!
Words: 3.3k
Warnings: angst, flashback to breakup, some bad language, self-deprecation.
Title from The Reason, by Hoobastank
~
I've found a reason for me, To change who I used to be, A reason to start over new, And the reason is you.
~
âOh wow, Val and Jim have really outdone themselves this year, havenât they?â
Lucy glanced around at the Christmas decorations surrounding them, smiling at her momâs words.
âFull of holiday cheer, as always!â she nodded.
She took off her thick coat and gloves, glad to be out of the icy air, hanging them up on the rack put out for guests.
âNow honey, if itâs too much, you can slip out back and head home, okay?â her mom said seriously, albeit quietly.
âYou said that last year. And the year before that. For the last five years, actually,â Lucy mused.
âAnd Iâve meant it every year. They might be our neighbours, but you are my baby. And my priority, always,â her mom said seriously.
Not for the first time, Lucy was thankful to have the mom she did.
âAnd I appreciate it. But Iâm going to be fine,â she said, smiling fondly.
âAlright, if youâre sure. You just send me a sneaky text if you change your mind though, yes?â
âYeah, thanks mom,â Lucy beamed.
The Christmas Eve Party thrown by her neighbours was a tradition sheâd attended her entire life, and even though she hadnât dated their grandson in half a decade, Val and John had always insisted that she still came along. A lingering effect of being childhood sweethearts, she supposed.
âAmy! Gary! Lucy!â
The welcome from their neighbours was warm and effervescent as it always was, and soon enough Lucy found herself swept in by conversation and catching up. She may have gone to college in UBC Okanagan in Kelowna for both her degrees, barely away from home, but sheâd lived in campus residence for all four years of her bachelorâs degree and moved out of her parentsâ house properly into a small apartment near campus for her masterâs degree. It wouldâve been easy to move home after guaranteed accommodation ended, but Lucy had wanted to keep the independence she had grown to love, and it wasnât as if she didnât visit her parents at least every other weekend.
But it was still nice to be able to talk about her accomplishments with the people that sheâd grown up alongside, especially now that she was in the final year of her masterâs degree and looking like she was on track for starting the PhD sheâd always aimed for.
After a couple of hours, she escaped the crowds in the living and dining areas, grateful for the sanctuary of the kitchen. There were a few plates of cookies and other Christmas treats laid out, and Lucy couldnât resist reaching out for a snickerdoodleâŠ
âŠat the exact time as someone else.
She jumped in surprise as a large hand rested on top of hers, not realising anyone was next to her, but as she looked up, she couldnât but to freeze despite the warmth of his touch. Tyson. It was Tysonâs hand touching hers.
âOh fuck, Iâm sorry, IâŠLucy?â
âHey Tys,â she managed to breathe.
The familiar curls, the big beautiful eyes, the sweet smile, and now a little bit of stubble? He looked good. Of course he looked good.
Tyson quickly drew his hand away from hers, breaking her out of her thoughts.
âUh, you have it, I shouldnât be eating baked goods too much anyway,â Tyson said, rubbing the back of his neck a little sheepishly.
Lucy pursed her lips and broke a third of the snickerdoodle off, handing it to Tyson with a raised eyebrow. Tyson huffed out a laugh but accepted the offered treat, sending her a small smile of thanks. Fuck, it may have been five years since they broke up, but he really hadnât changed, had he?
âSo, uh, you still come to these parties?â Tyson asked.
Lucy bit her bottom lip but nodded.
âYeah, your grandparents insist. I hope thatâs okay,â she winced.
âOf course it is,â Tyson said quickly, âThey always loved you.â
Well that was something at least. Why did this feel so awkward? Sure, it had been five years since sheâd seen Tyson, but they dated from eight years â surely they had more than this?
âI donât usually come to these. Well, I guess you already know that, if you come every year. I, uh, I have the 24th to the 26th off this year, so I didnât want to miss another Christmas with my grandparents,â Tyson explained.
âI bet Val and Jim were over the moon when you told them,â Lucy mused.
Tyson laughed softly, nodding. âThey were. Mom and Kacey didnât hesitate to come to Kelowna to join us, so itâs a big family Christmas this year.â
âThatâs great, Tys. Really. Spending Christmas with your loved ones is important,â she said softly, smiling.
His smile dimmed a little, but he nodded.
âHowâs, uh, howâs your degree going? Gramps said youâre doing a masterâs now?â
He knew that? Did he ask? Or did Jim just tell him?
âUh, yeah. I graduated my bachelor's degree magna cum laude back in 2020 and went straight into starting my graduate program there. Iâm a paid teaching assistant for my supervisory professor too.â
âThatâs incredible, Luce. Still doing Earth and Environmental Sciences?â Tyson prompted.
He remembered? After all this time?
âYeah, yeah it is. Focusing in on environmental impact assessment for my masterâs thesis,â she nodded, a little stunned, âI didnât thinkâŠI didnât think youâd remember.â
âOf course I remember. You were always so passionate about your studies â it was one of the things I loved most about you,â he said softly.
âTysonâŠâ Lucy said faintly, trailing off when no words would come.
He smiled sadly at her, shaking his head.
âSounds likeâŠit sounds like everything was worth it for you,â Tyson murmured.
~
2019
âSo you canât make it over?â
âNo, Tys, I canât, I have labs to do,â Lucy sighed.
âWe havenât seen each other in so long!â
âI canât just not go to my classes because you want me in Denver! You know this!â she groaned.
âI know, I know, but it sucks.â
Lucy frowned, even though he couldnât see her. âYouâre the one who didnât come home for Christmas, remember?â
âThe schedule didnât make sense, and I offered to fly you down?â
âTyson!â she groaned.
He stayed silent on the other end of the phone, a silence that sent an ominous shiver down her spine.
âSo where do we go from here?â
âW-What?â she said, confused at the dull tone of his voice.
âYour priority is college, my priority is hockey, and neither of us can compromise. I would never ask you to compromise, just like you wouldnât ask me. We have different priorities, clearly. So where do we go from here?â
âTyson, are you really saying what I think youâre saying?â she whimpered.
âYeah, I think we should break up.â
âWeâve been together for eight years! Youâre the only boyfriend Iâve ever had, the only guy Iâve ever wanted. And you want to break up, just like that?â
âI donât want to break up, Luce. But what other option do we have? Neither of us can give the other what we need right now. We have to focus on ourselves, donât we? For our own careers? You have so much ahead of you and I canât be there to celebrate it. And you canât be by my side cheering me on from the stands. I love you, Lucy. But this isnât working anymore.â
~
âTyson, why would you say it like that? You think itâs been easy for me?â Lucy asked, throat a little choked.
âNo, no, of course not,â he groaned.
âThen what do you mean?â
âLook, forget I said anything, okay? It was really good to see you, Luce.â
Before Lucy could say a word, Tyson walked away, leaving her alone in the kitchen with her head spinning. What the hell was that?
For the final few hours of the party, Lucy indulged in a couple more glasses of wine than she intended, sticking solidly by her parentsâ sides. She did her best to keep a smile on her face and ease into the Christmas festivity, even when Laura and Kacey said their hellos, but her mind just kept going back to Tyson.
âWeâre going to start saying our goodbyes, okay honey? Why donât you find all our coats.â
Lucy just nodded at her momâs suggestion, grateful for the opportunity to escape the crowd. Well, she was grateful, until she saw Tyson sitting on the bench next to the coat rack, face flushed and eyes glassy. He was drunk, at least moderately so.
âAh, fuck, I didnât want you to see me like this,â he said, voice slurring.
What did he mean by that?
âIâm just getting our coats. Weâre heading out,â she murmured, trying to ignore the whoosh in her stomach.
âAlready?â
âItâs nearly midnight, Tys,â she said, smiling wryly.
âWell, fuck. Time flies when youâre having whiskey, I guess,â he groaned, putting his empty glass on the bench next to him.
She huffed out a laugh, unhooking the coats when she finally spotted them.
âYou look good, Luce,â he murmured, looking up at her through his eyelashes.
âI do?â she blurted.
Damn it.
But Tyson just grinned. âYeah, you really do. You always looked good, but damn youâve really settled into your own skin, eh?â
âI love who I am, yeah,â she nodded.
She wasnât lying, or even placating. Her studies in environmental impact had opened up a whole new side of her she hadnât even realised was there, and she loved everything about the person sheâd become through it. She just hadnât realised it was obvious on the outside.
Then again, if anyone was going to notice something like that about her, it was going to be Tyson, wasnât it?
âYouâre too good for me.â
Oh fuck.
âThatâs not true. Not even slightly,â Lucy said, frowning.
âNo? I can barely get a team to keep me, and youâre soaring ahead with your academic career, just like you deserve,â Tyson scoffed.
This was just the alcohol talking. It had to be.
âTys, those teams are the ones missing out. Youâre amazing,â she said softly.
He paused for a moment, before shaking his head.
âIf Iâm so amazing, why did we break up?â
Because he had to put hockey first.
Because she had to put college first.
Because neither of them were each otherâs first choice.
âThatâs not fair, Tyson. We were kids when we first started dating. Barely 13 years old. And we were together for eight years! We had an incredible relationship! It justâŠwe wanted different things. Our priorities were different, our passions were different â we might have grown up together, but weâd also grown apart. Your life is hockey and my life is academics, and thatâs okay! That doesnât mean we didnât have love, yeah?â
The way that Tysonâs eyes filled up with tears made her own eyes water, dangerous lump rising in her throat.
âIf I could go back and change it all, I would. Iâd choose you. Iâd always choose you.â
His soft words tore a sob from her throat and she shook her head. How could he be so cruel?
âDonât say that. We made the right decision five years ago and you know it,â she whimpered.
Tysonâs face fell at her devastated expression, and he staggered to his feet.
âIâm sorry. I didnât mean to upset you. Iâm sorry,â he said sadly.
And yet here she was, broken hearted all over again.
âI should go. I need to go,â was all she could manage to choke out.
âLucy, baby, pleaseâŠâ
But Lucy just shook her head, clutching the coats in her hands, shaky smile on her lips as the tears finally fell. âMerry Christmas, Tyson.â
~
âSo what happened at the Christmas Eve Party that has you all torn up like this?â
Lucy flinched at her momâs voice, turning her head to see her standing in the doorway to her bedroom.
âNothing,â she said quickly.
âUh huh, and Iâm a fairy princess,â her mom snorted.
Lucy couldnât help but giggle, earning a fond smile as her mom walked into the room and sat down next to her on her bed. Lucy placed a bookmark in the book sheâd been reading to give her mom her full attention. Sheâd needed a little respite from all the preparations to hold her dadâs family for a late lunch, after all the intensity of having her momâs family over yesterday on Christmas Day, but sheâd found herself reliving her conversation with Tyson over and over.
âSounds likeâŠit sounds like everything was worth it for you.â
âYouâre too good for me.â
âIf Iâm so amazing, why did we break up?â
âIf I could go back and change it all, I would. Iâd choose you. Iâd always choose you.â
So really, her mom coming up to talk to her was a welcome break from all of that as well.
âIf you know it was the Christmas Eve Party then you can take a guess,â Lucy said, shrugging.
âIâd rather hear it from you, when Tysonâs involved,â her mom mused.
Well at least her mom was blunt about it.
âWe had a couple of conversations, and it stirred up old emotions, old drama. HeâŠmom, he said heâd go back and change it all if he could. That heâd always choose me. What am I supposed to do with that?â
Her mom blinked a couple of times, lips parted in a surprised, before she coughed out a laugh.
âWell I could never accuse Tyson of being subtle.â
âMom, seriously. This is stressing me out. I canât stop thinking about it,â Lucy groaned.
âI think thatâs an answer in itself, sweetheart,â she said softly.
âWhat?â
Her mom stayed silent, just nudging Lucy with her shoulder, and Lucy nudged back out of habit. What did she mean, that was an answer in itself?
âLucy, honey, if you canât stop thinking about Tyson choosing you above everything else, that means something,â her mom eventually said with a huffed laugh.
âBut how can it? He still has his hockey, and I still have academics. Neither of those are going to change any time soon,â Lucy said sadly.
Because at the end of the day, that was the bottom line of it all. Their priorities havenât changed.
âJust because your both still have your passions doesnât mean that they have to be your only love. You can have both,â her mom said firmly.
What?
âHow can I have both?â Lucy asked, confused.
âDo you love him?â was all she said.
âWhat?â Lucy said, surprised.
âDo you love him?â her mom repeated.
Lucy opened her mouth, shutting it again before huffing out a laugh. There was only one answer to that.
âYeah, I never stopped,â she replied.
âThen you can have both. You spent the last five years missing him, and I know damn well that that boy missed you too - neither of you deserve that for another second. You can have both,â her mom said decisively.
She could have both?
How could she have both?
âYou love him.â
âI love him,â Lucy whispered.
âGo get him.â
Lucy whimpered as she looked into her momâs eyes, but she only saw warmth and encouragement. Her mom was right. She loved Tyson. She loved Tyson and if seeing him again this Christmas had taught her anything, it was that she was stupid if she tried to deny how much she missed him. If she didnât tell him now, when would she?
âHe leaves today. I need to go now,â she said suddenly.
âWell damn, okay then. Put on a sweater and Iâll find your snow boots,â her mom grinned.
Lucy felt like she was in a haze as she walked as quickly down the street as was safe, heart pounding as she spotted Tyson loading bags into his grandpaâs car.
âTyson!â
His head whipped around at her shout, eyes going wide as he saw her walking towards him. Tyson shuffled down the driveway, missing Jimâs fond smile as he himself went back into the house, and the moment that she was standing in front of him, Tyson cupped his hands over her elbows to steady her.
âWhat are you doing here?â
âI love you,â she breathed.
Tyson whimpered, but Lucy wasnât discouraged, not when she saw the wonder that filled his expression.
âYou love me?â
âI love you. I love you so much and I canât stop thinking about everything you said the other night,â she blurted out.
âLuce, Iâm sorry, I know I upset you butâŠâ
âNo, Tys, itâs okay,â Lucy said, shaking her head as she interrupted, âWhile I stand by what I said, that we made the right decision at the time, maybe we could make a different decision now?â
âWhat are you saying?â
She could understand his hesitation, really she could. It wasnât as if she wasnât coming out with this out of the blue, after five years of nothing at all. After five years of heartbreak and heartache. But her mom was right â she missed him so fiercely and she couldnât bear the thought of him not knowing that.
âI want us to start over new. I never stopped loving you, not for one moment. We could have both. We could have our passions and our love, and I hate that itâs taken me this long to even consider that? I miss you and I love you and I know youâre heading to the airport to fly back to Raleigh, but tell me Iâm not crazy for thinking we could do this?â
Tysonâs jaw dropped as he processed her long rant, and it was only his firm grip on her elbows that stopped her from giving up hope.
âThat was a lot,â Tyson said.
She winced. âI know, butâŠâ
âAnd you poured out a lot of emotion there,â he interrupted.
Lucy kept her mouth shut this time, as much as she wanted to beg him to say more.
âItâs been agony for five years, for so many reasons, but hearing you say that you love me and you want to give our relationship another shot? I justâŠâ
Tyson trailed off, letting out a long breath.
âI understand if Iâm too late,â she murmured.
But Tyson huffed out a laugh, raising one hand from her elbow to cup her face in a gentle motion that had her breath hitching in her throat.
âThere is no world in which youâd be too late,â Tyson said softly.
âReally?â
âI love you too, Lucy. I never stopped either,â he murmured.
She couldnât stop the incredulous laugh that tumbled from her lips, smiling back up at Tyson as he smiled at her.
âWeâre really doing this?â she asked, giddy.
âYeah, baby, we are. I donât know how weâre going to do this, or what itâs going to look like, but weâre both adult enough to know how to put in more effort this time round right, yeah? Iâll fly home for the all-star break, and Iâll fly you out for spring break, and weâll have video calls that neither of us are going to miss. And everything else. Weâre going to make it work this time,â he said, tone serious but face grinning.
âAnd weâre going to communicate, yeah? When one of us is finding it hard? Weâll find little compromises, as we canât do the big compromises. Weâre worth it,â Lucy added, not caring that her cheeks were aching with her smile.
âYeah, we are. I love you, so much Lucy,â Tyson grinned.
âI love you too.â
Tyson didnât waste any time in leaning down to press his lips to hers, their last first kiss.
#my writing#tyson jost fic#nicole's b-day bingo#tyson jost x reader#tyson jost imagine#tyson jost fanfic#nhl fic#nhl imagine#hockey fic#hockey fanfic
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Johnny Lawrence and the self-fulfilling prophecy
so i've been thinking about this for a while and also because s6p1 just came out but i think that johnny is one of the best examples of a self-fulfilling prophecy in ck.
SO we've seen multiple times that johnny's been told he ruins people, by danial, robby, shannon, and carmen, even terry. And i'm not gonna disregard his actions, i agree that he has done a lot of stuff that negatively affected himself and those around him, not limited to becoming a functioning alcoholic, teaching kids aggression, drunk fights, being an absentee father, etc
BUT we also see him try a lot of times to get his act together and do better for the people around him, such as teaching miguel mercy, cleaning up his apartment and trying to limit drinking for carmen, and trying to get along with daniel for the sake of his students, but he's still criticized even for trying his best, the only character to consistently have been on his side through his highs and lows has been miguel.
out of all the characters the one who refuses to see johnny's change the most is probably daniel, and this is NOT a daniel hate post, i love daniel and he's one of my favourite kk and ck characters but that doesn't disregard the fact that he tends to have knee-jerk reactions and gets unbalanced easily when it comes to johnny. A lot of the characterization in the show can be attributed to writing choices but i'm going to try my best to not make that my main focus.
alright lets start!
when johnny first opens up his dojo its partly because of the anger he feels towards daniel for succeeding in life but mainly because he doesn't want miguel to keep getting beat on and miguel probably reminds him of himself before he met kreese. Daniel is the one to come to johnny and tell him to close cobra kai and this is completely valid seeing as how daniel's experiences with cobra kai were in his youth, however its also been 30 years and its reasonable to assume that johnny isnt still a high school bully. He tells miguel that if he doesnt leave the dojo he'll end up 'just like' johnny. Right off the bat we have someone insinuating that johnny is a terrible role model. Then when daniel starts training robby and discovers robby's homelife he goes to talk to johnny just to immediately turn on him the second he sees kreese, he doesn't talk to johnny to clear up the situation and he doesn't tell him about his son, and yes johnny has been a shitty dad but he deserves to know that his kid is going to be living with someone else (i honestly thought it was crazy that daniel never mentioned that he had johnny's SON IN HIS HOUSE??)
when robby takes sam to johnny's apartment when she was drunk daniel literally kicked down his door and got into a physical fight with johnny because he couldn't believe that johnny was being considered a safe space for his son to bring his crush to in order to sober up and wouldn't listen to johnny rationally asking him to calm down. and S6 SPOILERS but i think that out of the two of them johnny was trying much harder to be accomodating to daniel, he gave up the name cobra kai and eagle fang for miyagi do, worked kata into his teaching and geniunely tried to not be so hard headed and quick to fight. He tried to get a job (daniel making him switch from using karate as a job was honestly crazy, that was literally how he was paying bills and putting food on the table, johnny asking to be paid for his time and effort wasnt an insane ask especially considering that daniel owns multiple dealerships and chozen comes from a rich family as well, johnny is the only one that actually needed the dojo as a way to make money) and just overall be there, im not saying hes a great dad right away but its obvious that he's trying to be there for both miguel and robby without making either one of the boys feeling forgotten. (ex, telling them both he's proud win or lose, tying robby's headband, listening to miguel's college essay)
HOWEVER, it seems that no matter what he does, johnny is almost never seen positively by anyone other than miguel and devon. daniel switches up on him instantly (he drops people at the first sight of their flaws, as soon as johnny takes even a single step backwards instead of acting rationally and looking at the situation + offering support he tells johnny he'll never change and drops him immediately, he did the same thing with robby and doing that to a teenager dependent on you for food and shelter is honestly crazy), carmen has been pretty much sidelined due to the baby (i have THOUGHTS on this), kreese is his only supporter and he was literally tripping balls and snapped hallucination johnny's neck like a stale breadstick so johnny doesnt really have much in the way of a good support system
now for those that have somehow stuck around lol lets get to the actual point (i realized here that i literally just blabbed for so long without making my point lmfao)
a self-fulfilling prophecy is essentially: you become what you are told. if i told you everyday that you will never amount to more than what you are right now, ive 'prophesied' your future and to self-fulfil it you would just stop trying because you know that nothing you do will ever change my mind.
in a similar vein i believe that deep down johnny DOES believe that no matter what he does or how hard he tries he'll never be able to move past the image of him thats already been made up in peoples minds (society for all it talks about rehabilitation does not tend to actually support those who want to rehabilitate- more thoughts below) and so he goes through a constant cycle of disappointing those around him again and again because no one believes he can be any better and he's internalized that, i honestly have soo many thoughts about johnny's character in kk1 and ck and i would love to chat with anyone interested about it
re: society and rehab
so people talk the good talk about how rehabilitation is important and necessary, in the show daniel is able to form good friendships with both chozen and mike who were arguably much worse than johnny was to him (chozen fought in a literal DEATH MATCH against him and mike harassed him, dangled him off a cliff, forced him to compete in a rigged match where he pretty much just whaled on him on the mat), why was daniel able to forgive these guys but not johnny? my theory is that its because to him chozen and mike have their lives together and have also properly apologized for their actions (JJ&H im still waiting on that johnny apology where we address the 'you're alright larusso' line) meanwhile johnny has obviously gone downhill since HS, but daniel never takes his attempts to get it together seriously and along with a lot of the toxic ideals put into him by kreese, johnny doesn't take his rehabilitation seriously either, he can't afford rehab for his alcohol dependency (plus rehab isnt viewed positively by him either) and he doesnt have a very steady support system so that makes it even more difficult. unlike daniel he's never had a positive father figure in his life which makes it difficult for him to act as a father without fear of becoming kreese, i just wish that the show would take johnny's journey to becoming the man he wants more seriously
#johnny lawrence#cobra kai#cobra kai season 6#daniel larusso#karate kid#chozen toguchi#mike barnes#character analysis#rant post#sorry for rambling on lmao#thank you to anyone who took the time to actually read this#feel free to add on or talk to me in the comments
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hey guys. remy design
#remy the farmer#dol#my art#sorry it took so long for me to make this#im watching live shows for one of my favorite music projects in the corner and i have to pause drawing to scream every 5 seconds#if i were in that crowd id be yelling. id faint. only but a dream to attend one of these#to the people that sent me another personality swap request also. i promise im not ignoring you but the one that said#''avery and eden swap would be a nightmare''#youre completely right. it is a nightmare. i cant think of anything#so if either of you have any more ideas or anyone else does then PLEASE help me im begging you all i can think of is ??? i dont know#i hope you guys like this remy though#i was worried about if it was good enough but special thanks to the people on my side account that told me it was fine#i posted fem remy there too if you want to see it#i think when i do fem vers of them all ill group them up because itll take me less time to make it since ill already have the design basis#and also i feel bad for spamming you guys#actually would you prefer i keep posting them one by one or should i post them all at once? for these designs#i feel bad posting separately because that means the people who rb my posts reblog like 10 separate design posts in a row :(#and i dont want them to spam their blogs because of me#but i do really really appreciate it when i see someone do that in my notifs :) so thank you a lot if you do#and also thank you to everyone who leaves tags i read each and every one of them obsessively like a freak#this is getting too long im going to hit the tag limit at this rate#ill try to work on the avery eden thing again#see you all later :)
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again and again i find myself lamenting that audio roleplay isn't taken more seriously by some people. like yeah, they often have a romantic element, and by nature they usually directly involve/address the listener- and i totally get that those things aren't to everyone's taste. no art or entertainment is universally appealing, and that's okay! but.. it still makes me a lil sad that the "cringe" reputation of asmr/audio rp precedes it. there's a whole lot of talent and creativity being poured into these audios by so many people that i feel goes unrecognized and/or disrespected simply due to the medium that the stories are being told through.
#this post brought to you by: me bingeing Sam & Darlin's entire storyline over the past few days and having a Lot of feelings abt it#asmr#audio roleplay#rp audio stuff#redacted audio#anyways i don't have a conclusion to this post. and i'm not Mad or Upset or anything i'm just thinkin' out loud#and i mean it's not like it doesn't get plenty of praise within its respective audience bc it does. at least for the more popular creators#but i feel it'll still always have the shadow of its cringe reputation looming over it#which makes it hard for some ppl to openly appreciate or share with others that aren't already fans of the medium#like do u know how many comments i've seen along the lines of 'this is great but i'd die if anyone knew i liked this kinda stuff' ?? :(#idk maybe i feel strongly about it bc i'm a self-insert fanfic writer. and i feel like the two have a lot in common. including a bad rep.#like. not every audio will be well-written or produced and neither will every fanfic. but that doesn't mean it's a less legitimate artform#and i'm lucky to have never (yet) received negative comments on my work. but that doesn't mean that it doesn't make me sigh when people-#-say shit like 'this reads like fanfiction' as a way of calling something bad. or other similar sentiments that make the same implication#and i wouldn't be surprised if audio creators feel the same way when they encounter certain comments or statements#like. those YT videos where ppl will 'try bf asmr for the first time' or whatever and it's just 20 mins of cringing and over-reacting? eugh#tbf i haven't watched many bc why do that to myself. so Maybe there's some that are respectful but still. imagine getting roasted like that#and yes yes i know that by posting stuff online you're inadvertently sighing up to be criticized by Anyone but still. man. i dunno#i'm going on a tangent but my point is. i'm grateful for the creators that still make their art in spite of the public's perception of it#bc some of the most impactful emotional experiences i've ever gained from fiction took place in audio rp and i'm so serious abt that.#anyways. this post almost feels like i'm 'making up a person to be mad at' but i promise it's not that serious i'm just yapping. mostly.#certainly not trying to start any kind of debate or anything either i just have a lot of fixation-induced energy and nowhere to put it#this is Eric's fault (/lh) for cooking Sam up in a lab catered exactly to my taste and making Darlin' waaaaay too painfully relatable#but it's also My fault for bingeing the Inversion /and/ the Quinn arc /and/ the Summit all within a couple days. but i can't help myself#feels like i've run an emotional marathon. triathlon. The Emotional Olympics if u will. i'm feeling Everything#who knew that beating the shit out of ur fictional abuser could feel so goddamn cathartic! it's a nice replacement when u can't do it irl#anyways i'm off on a tangent again. thanks for coming to my TED Talk i'm gonna crawl back in my hole now#actually i'm gonna go relisten to a few audios. as Research for my Sam & Darlin' playlist as well as a post i'll be making about it soon#u Know i've got it bad when i not only make a playlist but start Posting on here about the songs that remind me of them. i'm cooked guys.
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lmaoooooo im clearing out a shit ton of like junk photos and screenshots bc my google storage is full and wow
#LMAO there was uh a Period Of Time where i was screenshotting entire convos so my mom could read them#so my mom could confirm for me that it was not in fact me who was losing my mind#like it reached a point i was like crowd surfing live convos bc the other wide was so fucking crazy i was like yall be honest wtf is happeni#it was literally me asking people like read this convo tell me am i losing my mind or is this CRAZY and it was always no this is crazy fr đ#and i just reread one of them and holy GOD i cannot believe i put up with that shit that was CRAZY#oh my god if someone talked that way to me now...#i was truly in HELL. i was in the pits oh my god and i just took it. bc i had to. and OHHH WOW#thank god that is in the pastđđđ#what a reminder of how truly insane and horrible that all was i mean GODDAMN#in hindsight it was actually WORSE than i admitted to myself in the moment#SCREAM#AND LIFE GOES ON!!!!!!!!! it always goes on!! so just survive it!! bc one day you will look back and laugh#god ive been reading them all and it is actually upsetting. reliving trauma fr like WOW. oh my god#im glad i kept these though. bc now 2 years later im fully myself again and i can SEE IT. for what it was. and WOW. just wow. W O W#what a measure of the healing and growing ive done though truly bc i would NEVER let anyone treat me that badly ever again yk#LIFE!!! MOVES!!!!! ON!!!!!!!!!!#i truly feel. lighter oddly reading this all now too. bc it's... validating tbh. like yeah i was Not the problem lmfao holy fucking shit#it is SO clear in hindsight. and everyone was trying to tell me. but i couldnt see a way out so i pushed it aside#but everyone knew and everyone was right like WOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW#and it's closed now. the chapter. it's tbh Been Closed but like closed in a final way now#now that ive reread it all and been like yeah. Fuck that. i survived that. and never again! and it's Done for good đ«¶đ»đ«¶đ»đ«¶đ»
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âepiphanyâ | 21k
worst!logan howlett x f!reader
SUMMARY: Superheroes and mutants werenât enough. Noâthe universe had to throw in soulmates who share scars. Fantastic, right? Except yours had vanished, only to mysteriously reappear with the arrival of a new face: the âWorstâ Logan Howlett, fresh from another earth.
OR What happens when a hopeless romantic crosses paths with the ultimate soulmate skeptic?
WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni smut 18+ strangers to lovers. drinking. cursing. slow burn. angst. pining. mentions of alcohol. fluff. reflecting on the art of writing/poems/books. dual POV. takes place after the events of âdeadpool & wolverineâ. TW: multiple descriptions of scars. worst/variant!logan. implied age gap (readerâs in her late 20s). theyâre both touch starved. wadeâs everyoneâs friend. miscommunication/misunderstandings. oral sex (f and m receiving). fingering, grinding. some slight hair pulling. unprotected p in v, creampie. sex with feelings.
A/N: HOPELESS ROMANTICS RISE! here we go again with another long ass fic. this is a soulmates AU in which you get your soulmateâs scars. if you feel triggered by this topic, please refrain from reading. i had a lot of fun writing this even though it took me a while to get it done. thanks to @lubdubology for being my beta and allowing me to share my work with you. and also thanks to @brushworth for giving me the chance to write this. having said this, enjoy the story! iâd love to know your thoughts on it <3
Love giveth and love taketh away.
To this day, itâs still hard for you to wrap your head around the fact that love is what humans both strive and die for.
If it werenât for love, you wouldnât be here. No one would, actually. Human beings are the result of billions of people who loved each other just enoughâor at least long enough to bring life into the world.
But isnât it in the name of love that people act in bad faith? Why would something so pure be used in vain?
You donât get it, but as the years go by, you slowly come to terms with the idea that perhaps you never will. Not because there isnât a reason, but because youâre in love with the idea of love.
How could you not be? Itâs on the streets, on the bus, at work. Everywhere you go, every place you attempt to set foot in, there it is. Love is dressed up in an expensive silk robe, a ribbon tied neatly on top of it. You reach closer, trying to unravel it, though it's pointless. The moment love sees youâtruly sees your longing for itâit flees, and you struggle to keep up.
Love runs faster than anyone, hiding within the bushes, counting the seconds until its next appearance.
It had always been a relentless race, your only worry being to catch it before time ran out. But with each day that passed, the finish line only stretched further and further away. Now, they all blur together, to the point where you live and breathe on autopilot.Â
In a Jane Austen novel, youâd be considered a lone woman. That character whoâs nice, and kind, and loved by some, but not in the way she yearns for. Every time sheâs mentioned, you go âOh, the poor girl,â until the slow realization dawns.
In reality, sheâs you, and itâs you who you feel sorry for, not a fictional character. You.
All in all, love giveth. And love also taketh away.Â
Love maketh you miserable.
Soulmatesâa nine-letter word that holds so much meaning.
Itâs one of those words that you learn early in your life, one you hear at home or on the TV. Your parents never fail to mention it if given the chance. The first time youâre introduced to the topic is at school when you're older, a bit more self-conscious, and no longer preoccupied with picking your nose.
âEverybody has a soulmate. And no,â your teacher had added after a pause, already anticipating the inevitable questions from any curious 10-year-old, âthere isnât such a thing as not having one. We all do. You just have to search for them.â
Back then, that had been your favorite gameâalways keeping an eye open, scanning the crowd more than once in new places. You knew for sure that more than one person probably thought youâd strained your neck from all the times you glanced over your shoulder.
It must be pretty obvious now, the fact that youâreïżœïżœïżœwell, alone. Saying âwithout a companionâ sounds quite outdated. They canât see through you, but something in the way you walk or speak must give it away.Â
Or is it the fact that you always ask for a table for one?
âAre you expecting someone else?â A waitress approaches you, her tone gentle as she makes sure youâre on your own. A small notebook dangles from her slender fingers, and your eyes catch the name stitched onto her apron: Emily.
The response you give her is on the verge of sounding automatic, robotic even, like one of those prerecorded messages busy people leave on their phones. âNo. Just me.â
She nods, and you feel the sympathy in her gaze. Youâve mastered the art of recognizing that lookâthe one hovering between concern and pity.
Of course, people rarely voice it, but theyâll never know their eyes sometimes say more than they think.
As she jots down your order, youâre met with the ring on her left hand. Very pretty, very shiny. Very expensive as well. Your attention must linger on it a little too long, because she catches you staring, making you feel exposed.
Emilyâyou decide to call her that way from now on, because once you know her name, it feels odd to address her as the waitressâoffers you a shy smile.
âIâm getting married next month,â she blurts out, happiness radiating from her pores. Her eyes glint like two lanterns in a starless night. She also looks younger than you, and the abrupt silence forces you to pinch your wrist, a reminder of the fact that this is a conversation, and not just something you're overhearing.
âCongratulations,â you manage to reply, returning the smile. If she saw how your expression faltered the second she walked away, you wonder if sheâd still think you were so amiable.
Sometimes, your façade slipsâyou canât help it. Thatâs what the âhopelessâ in âhopeless romanticâ stands for.
Some minutes later, she comes back with your coffee, and you catch another glimpse of the ring as it twinkles in front of you. Envy doesnât suit you, so you shift your focus.
Taking out your laptop, you scroll through the latest headlines. This is your attempt at acting more like an adult and less like a girl in her mid-twenties who has no clue what sheâs doing.
One article stands out from the rest: Hollywood Actress Divorces Loving Husband of 25 Years to Pursue Presumed Soulmate. âI saw his scars and knew he was the one.â
Interesting. You canât help but feel sorry for the displaced husband, though.
âGood for you,â you mutter under your breath, clicking the link to read more. Thereâs a picture of the actress and her new boyfriend that makes you stop dead in your tracks: theyâre smiling at each other, their faces close, noses almost touching, while they show off their matching scarsâthe unmistakable sign that theyâre, in fact, soulmates.
Soulmates, superheroes, mutants. It all sounds like a whole lot, doesnât it? Overwhelming, to say the least. One thingâs for sureâyouâll never get bored in this world.
But, hey! Donât forget that there are multiple universes out there. Maybe in one of them, youâre not this pathetic.
Why are you being so hard on yourself? Thatâs not even the point. Shaking your head, you keep glancing at their scarsâtheyâre identical, perfect mirrors of one another. The kind of scars that only two destined souls share.
Their happiness is evident, tangible. You can feel it by just eyeing the image. Itâs a bitter sensation that metamorphoses into a warmth, which heavily spreads through your chest, filling up every empty space it finds.Â
To say you understand that feeling would be a downright lie. And you may be many things, but a pathological liar is not one of them.
As if on cue, you duck your head, rolling up the sleeves of your jacket. You do the same with your shirt, foolishly hoping to find something other than smooth, unmarked skin.
No scars. No marks. No sign of a soulmate, of a lover. In the world you inhabitâthis universe full of the most inexplicable thingsâyouâre alone.Â
Without a second thought, you pack your things, shoving them rapidly into your bag. The cafe feels too little and too large all at once, the walls closing on you.
The rest of the customers are looking at you. Fuck, they already noticed itâyou canât escape it.
Have they? Do you think they see you like you see yourself? The lone woman who writes poems for an addressee who will never read them?
In silence, you hand Emily the money for your coffee. You fear that if you open your mouth, a cry will come out, and thatâs the last thing you need today. She gives you that look againâpity laced with sorrow, the one you despise. It burns.
At that moment, a man walks in, passing right by you. You see his face, his green eyes, and the way his lips curl into a grin as he greets Emily.
The scar on her forehead, which you'd missed before, mirrors the one on his.
They are soulmates.Â
Itâs on the streets, on the bus, at work. Everywhere you go, every place you attempt to set foot in, there it is.
She wishes you a nice morning as you leave the cafe. Little does she know youâll spend the rest of the day locked in your apartment, mourning someone you never even met.
Until the day you lost them, you wore your scars with pride.
They were scattered across your stomach, back, chest, and even your legs and arms. Some were shallow, others deep. It never occurred to youâthe thought that they belonged in the shadows, hidden.
Everyone has them, you thought as you stood in front of the mirror, running your fingers along their jagged paths. I just seem to have more than most people.
Over the years, you might have changed your hairstyle or the way you dressed, but your scars never didâtheyâd always been there, and they were yours.
Partly yours, of course, since you knew they belonged to your soulmate as well.
The older you grew, the more you realized having a good memory was both a gift and a curse. You still remembered that moment so vividlyâwhen you found out that somebody out there was meant for you and only you.
A point of no return, thatâs what itâd been. From that day on, not a single one went by without you imagining the first encounter with your Prince Charming.Â
In the meantime, you dated. A few boyfriends came and went during and after high school, mostly as practice for the real thing, youâd told yourself.
God, you were determined to know everything. To be the best girlfriend ever, so that when you finally met him, heâd be over the moon.
At the age of seventeen, it sounded like a brilliant plan.
You never knew how, but your life became that meantime. All your friends began to find their soulmates: in the supermarket, while traveling, at the goddamn doctorâs office.
Everybody was fulfilling the purpose youâd been taught humans were made forâeveryone but you.
The scars multiplied, yet he was nowhere to be seen, remaining out of reach. Your soulmateâs whereabouts were a mystery. What the hell does he do in his free time? was something you used to often ponder. Is he suffering? Does he need help?
âBe patient, give it some time. The less you seek, the more youâll find,â your mother would say, trying to sound encouraging. Although she was trying to do her best, that phrase alone had the power to make you go nuts.
Be patient? Waiting was all youâd been doing. What was so wrong with you that he seemed to be hiding from you? You didnât want to wait any longer, noâyou wanted to find him. If it meant traveling to Italy like your cousin had to meet her husband, then so fucking be it.
Many nights, sleep eluded you. Lying wide awake, staring at the ceiling, youâd imagine what life with him would be like. What he would look like. You were certain that no matter his appearance, youâd think he was beautiful.
Wasnât that the whole point of soulmatesâthat the bond you two shared transcended physical attraction?
Nevertheless, you secretly wished heâd have brown hair. He didnât need to know, but you had a weakness for brunettes.
On the night of your twenty-second birthday, you were getting ready for the big event when every trace of your scars disappeared.
The bathroom mirror was fogged from the showerâs stream, and as you wiped it clean with the palm of your hand, the image you saw reflected on the glass made your stomach do a flip.
There were no scars. No marks. Nothing. At first, you thought your eyes were playing tricks on youâit couldnât be. Scars didnât just vanish. It was impossible.
But as you lowered your gaze, tracing your limbs again and again, the truth hit you. The marks you knew by heart, the ones that reminded you, Heâs out there, somewhere, were gone.
You felt it deep in your chest, too. Every sound seemed louder and clearer: the blood rushing through your veins, each shaky breath you took. Where are they? Your fingers dug into your flesh, intending to ground yourself.
Is he⊠dead? It was the only reasonable explanation, the rule youâd known all along. Youâd read it countless times, memorizing the principles about scars.
The scream that tore from your throat brought your mother running upstairs, and she entered the bathroom with a horrified expression on her face.
âWhatâs wrong? Are you hurt?â she asked, but your mind was already far away. Your whole body shuddered in her arms, a sob slipping past your lips as you crumbled to the floor, desperately hoping it was all a nightmare. âIt must be a mistake, honey. Iâm sure heâs okay.â
But heâs not, you wanted to tell her. The words, however, never formedâonly a broken whimper escaped your lips. Isnât that what we were taught? Our scars belong to our soulmates; they bind us to them in a way that simple words canât explain.
It goes deeper than the skin. It delves into our bodies, our minds, reaching into the very essence of who we are. What was once his is also mine, but theyâre gone.
Heâs gone. He must be, because otherwise, how would you explain this void?
When oneâs soulmate passes away, that person will notice the disappearance of their scars. The physical marks that once symbolized their connection fade, leaving no trace. This absence is accompanied by a distinct, unsettling sensationâan awareness of loss that goes beyond the physical, signaling the end of the bond.
A part of you died with him that day.
The first time you exchanged words with Wade Wilson, you thought he was a total dick.
It wasnât as if you didnât know himânot when he was so infamous for that mouth of his. Deadpool: the self-proclaimed superhero with a vocabulary that was 90% profanity, who made cracking jokes while fighting the bad guys look easy.
Super funny? Sure. But not exactly your cup of tea when all you wanted was to crawl into bed and forget the world existed.
He was apparently long retired from superheroing. No one had seen that red, sex-toy-looking suit in ages, which was why you were only mildly surprised as you spotted him hauling boxes into your building on a Tuesday afternoon.
It was late, and you werenât in the mood for small talk. Heâd been there barely a week, yet somehow, heâd already managed to fuck things up.Â
You let out a deep sigh, rubbing the crease between your brows. âLook, Wallyââ
âItâs pronounced Wade,â he corrected you, trying to edge his face further into the gap between the door and its frame, though you didnât let your guard down. âYouâre pretty rude, you know that?â
âIâve been up for twenty-four hours, and I need to sleep,â you groaned, trying to push him away with one hand. Technically, he wasnât even asking for something that complicatedâhe wanted to use your microwave to heat his dinner, since his had decided to stop working out of the blue.
The thing was that youâd had the kind of week that felt like a one-way trip to hell, an important detail he wasnât aware of. âGo ask someone else. I canât do charity tonight.â
âYouâre the only one who answered,â he said, pressing his palms together in a pleading gesture, his lips curling into a heartbreaking pout. âPlease, my lovely neighbor, whose name I donât know. You wouldnât want me to starve to death, would you?
âI thought you couldnât die.â You raised an eyebrow, half-interested.
Wadeâs arms dropped to his sides, his eyes drifting downward. âAnd I thought kindness wasnât extinct, but here we are.â He spun on his heel, acting defeated and dragging his feet like a scolded puppy. âCanât believe this is what the worldâs come to. Iâm sure the Bible says something about treating others how youâd want to be treated.â
Why. Just⊠why? Some cosmic, divine force from beyond might have been testing you that night.
âWait,â you croaked just as he was about to step into his apartmentâwhich was literally three meters from yours. His face lit up, expecting you to continue, and you moved aside slightly, signaling him in. âFive minutes and youâre out, okay? I really need to get some rest.â
The rest was history. Wade was just standing there, mesmerized by your microwave as if heâd never seen one before.
You could only hear the faint buzzing sound of the gadget, punctuated by the rhythmic drumming of his fingers on the counter. He was humming a tune while shaking his head to the beat.
You tried to focus, replaying the guided meditation you sometimes followed to sleep in your mind.
Allow yourself to feel the stillness of this moment. Notice your breath slowing as your body begins to calm. Be the observer of your breath, flowing in and out naturally, as your lungsâ
Yeah, it wasnât working.
âPlease, stop it,â you eventually told Wade, whose gaze shifted from the microwave to you, brows furrowed.
âAnd whyâs that?â
âThey say itâs bad for your eyes,â you explained, recalling a half-forgotten news report youâd heard on the TV. Whether it was a myth or not, youâd never know. âI believe itâs because of the radiation exposure.â
Leaning back on the counter, he crossed his arms over his chest. âAt this point, I think Iâm safe. You, on the other hand⊠maybe not so much,â he nearly whispered that last part, and your desire to strangle him grew stronger.
Save me, mindfulness, you thought to yourself.
He jerked his thumb toward the pile of papers and books you had on your kitchen table. âSo, youâre a writer?âÂ
âEditor, in reality,â you snapped, your eyelids twitching as you watched him leaf through your stuff. âWade, donât touch my things.â
âSorry, canât help myself. Iâm very curious.â Flashing you a quick grin, he opened your notebook, squinting his eyes as he went through the pages. âBut you write too, huh? Iâm discovering plenty of material here.â
The bastard. âGive. It. Back,â you snarled, lunging at him and trying to snatch the notebook from his hands, but he was faster, raising it out of reach. âI hope your food explodes in that microwave, asshole.â
âOh, right. I forgot about it,â he snorted, tossing the notebook onto the couch and retrieving his dinner instead. You stared at him in disbelief, opening your mouth to scold him, but nothing came out. Then, there he was, standing in front of you with his plate and a fork.
Wait. Was that your fork?
âItâs hot, Iâll give you that.â He blew on his food to cool it down, and as he glanced up, he was met with your murderous glare. âWhoa. Want some? You couldâve just asked me. No need to get so angry.â
Calling it a desire to kill him wouldâve been an understatement. And the worst part? He couldnât die. âYouâve got what you needed. Now, can you leave?â
âHow longâs it been since you talked to another human being?â
You blinked, feeling the sudden urge to look around, half expecting a hidden camera. âWhy do you always answer with another question?â
âAll Iâm saying is Iâve been meaning to talk to you for days now, but youâre practically living the hermit life,â he said between bites of chicken, excusing himself briefly to chew. âThat robe youâre wearing? Itâs had the same stain on it since I moved in. Also, your doormatâs buried under a mountain of newspapers, so either you really love trees, or youâve been avoiding any sort of social interaction.â
If he had been wrong, you wouldâve felt much better. But he⊠wasnât, and it sucked.
âI feel like I should be scared,â you mumbled after a long stretch of silence, your eyes going round.
Wade did no more than laugh at your troubled expression. âScared of me? Thatâs cute. Iâm a nice guy, sweet pea. Persistent, sure, but Iâve got a knack for getting under peopleâs skin,â he said, grinning through a mouthful of foodâwhich, for the sake of your sanity, you chose to ignore.
After he had finished eating, he let the fork fall into the sink, the metal striking against the surface with a piercing echo, making you jump. He stretched his arms with a satisfied yawn, and he seemed determined to leave you alone. âWell, Iâve done my good deed for the day.â
âWhat do you mean?â you asked, following his movements as he ambled toward the door. âAre you telling me your microwave does work?â
âOh, youâre a smart one, arenât you?â Wade patted your head, ruffling your hair like you were a puppy who had just learned a new trick. âGood night, peanut.â
From that moment on, the two of you became inseparable. Your personalities clicked in a way youâd never experienced before with any other friend. Wade was loyal to a fault, and he treated you like the little sister he had never had.Â
Most importantly, he didnât pity youâhe saw you for who you were, not just someone marked by a lost soulmate. You never told him how much that meant to you, but deep down, you were grateful.
Which brings you to the present day. Youâve been friends with him for over a year, and heâs taken every chance to introduce you to his âweird but lovableâ (his words, not yours) group of friends.
âCheck your social anxiety at the door, thank you,â heâd tell you every time he hosted a get-together and you were invited.
Somehow, you had managed to bond with themâespecially Althea, his elderly roommate, who occasionally forgets who you are despite living next door.
âRemind me of your name again, sweetie? All this disco dust must be affecting my memory,â sheâd ask, leaning in close so youâd practically have to shout it into her ear. Then sheâd nod, smirking knowingly. âAh, yes. I thought so. Just making sure.â
Sheâs quite the character. A real sweetheart if you leave aside the number of times sheâs offered you more types of drugs than you knew existed.
Tonight, youâre throwing Wade a surprise birthday party. Among all the party tasks, youâve handled the decorations and the cake. The roomâs a riot of color, with balloons floating lazily from the ceiling and a cascade of streamers draping over the furniture.
Guests start arriving, greeting you warmly, a feeling you once thought impossible. Theyâre Wadeâs friends, sure, but on some level, you like to think theyâre your friends now too: Vanessa, Dopinder, Buck, Shatterstar, Colossus, Negasonic Teenage Warhead, and Yukio.
As you hear footsteps approaching the door, Wadeâs voice filters through the hallway. Panicking, you whirl around to the group. âHeâs here! Everyone shut up!â you whisper urgently, turning off the lights and pressing your back flat against the wall next to the door.
Seconds later, the sound of keys jingling fills the air as both Wade and Peter step into the apartment.
You flip the lights back on just as Dopinder pops his much-anticipated party popper. âSurprise!â you all scream in unison, and Wadeâs face splits into a grin, unsure of whom to hug first.
âYou guys are lucky Iâm not armed,â he quips, slinging an arm around Dopinderâs shoulders. âSix years ago, youâd all be dead!â
And you giggle, because⊠well, what else are you supposed to do?
As you expected, the night unfolds smoothly. Youâre having fun, engaging in conversations despite yesterdayâs emotional meltdown at the cafe. Itâll be okayâit always is. The food is amazing, the company even better. You remind yourself that romantic love isnât the only kind that mattersâthatâs what friends are for, after all, to teach you that lesson.
The low hum of chatter fills the air, punctuated by bursts of laughter and the clinking of glasses, creating a lively symphony that wraps around you like a warm blanket. Yukio calls your name, waving her head in front of your eyes, trying to snap you out of your thoughts. âEverything okay?â she wonders, concern flickering in her voice.
âYeah, Iâm fine,â you reply, tightening your grip on your beer bottle. âJust thinking, thatâs all.â
You all gather around the cake when Wadeâs about to blow the candles. You know heâs preparing himself for a speech. âAnother year of spinning around the moon, huh?â
âSun, you dumbass,â Al corrects him, and you have to bite your lip to keep your laughter to yourself.
âOkay, flat-earther,â Wade shoots back, giving her a playful side-eye. âAnyway, where was I? Oh, rightâI canât thank you all enough for being here. These past few years have been... well, rough on me, to say the least,â he says, glancing down at the cake with a small, crooked smile. âBut Iâm happy now. Weâve got each otherâs back, like a team!â
âLike The Avengers, you mean?â Dopinder pipes up, eyes sparkling with excitement. Thereâs a moment of silence in which you swear youâd be able to hear a hairpin drop.
Itâs still a sensitive topic.
âNext time, give me a trigger warning before you mention them,â Wade mutters in a hushed tone, and Dopinder shrinks sheepishly. âI guess what I wanted to tell you wasâŠâ he trails off, his palm covering the place where his heart is, âthat I'm glad youâre all here. Being surrounded by the people I love most is the best birthday gift ever.â
His words stir something inside you. Vanessa gently nudges his arm, smiling up at him. âWhy donât you make your wish?â
Wade dramatically drops to his knees in front of the cake, eyes fluttering shut before blowing out the candles, whistles and cheers erupting all around.
Just then, you hear the unmistakable sound of the doorbell ringing through the air. You exchange a curious glance with Wade, raising your eyebrows. âThatâs weird. Want me to get it?â
âNah, I got it,â he says, excusing himself to answer the door. He slips outside, shutting it behind him, and everything returns to normal. For a while, you assume heâs chatting with someone who dropped by to say hiâbut that doesnât really make sense.
âDonât you think itâs weird that heâs been out there so long?â Vanessa inquires, her worry starting to creep in.
âIâll go check on him,â you tell her, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze before heading to the door.
But when you open it, thereâs no Wade in sight. Just⊠his toupeeâor âhair systemâ as he insists on calling it, lying on the floor.
Kneeling down, you gingerly pick it up, a strange sensation settling in your chest.
Where the hell did he go?
After his existence went downhill, Logan turned to prayer.
Completely out of character, right? He thought so too. The number of times he'd stepped foot inside a church could be counted on one hand, so why would a man like him resort to religion?
In the past, he had been told he was part of Godâs plan, but somewhere along the way, he felt like he had become Godâs mistake.
After living a life plagued with loss and constantly in hiding, he wasnât shocked that his self-worth was in the gutter.
Things only spiraled after letting everyone down, especially after that particular day when things took a turn for the worse. He had prayed, asking God to make him forget.
When that didnât work, he just drank harder and smoked more. But not even drowning in alcohol and clouds of nicotine could put an end to his strugglesâhe was condemned to suffer.
In spite of everyoneâs wishes, heâs still going strong, stuck with no defined purpose. Itâs almost impossible not to fall into a routine that seeks to numb him, to put him under anesthesiaâwaking up after passing out who-knows-where, finding the nearest bar, sinking into whiskey and the haze of ashtrays.
Then he does it all over again, a never-ending cycle. His self-destructive habits donât lead him to oblivion; instead, they intensify every sensation, making each memory and emotion painfully vivid.Â
Day after day, he convinces himself heâs got it under control. Logan may be tough as fuck, and he may heal faster than anyone else, but his pride is in pieces.
No amount of strength or supernatural abilities can stop the decay he feels inside, the slow rot creeping deeper within him the longer he remains trapped in this life.
He slams the empty glass onto the counter with a heavy thud, tapping two fingers against it. âAgain,â he murmurs, his voice low and rough.
The bartender looks at him like he's the reincarnation of all things vile. âI told youâyouâre not welcome here. Youâre not welcome anywhere. Now get the fuck out of my bar.â
Oh, yes. Music to his ears. If he had a nickel for every time he heard that, heâd be rich. âJust give me one more drink and then Iâll leave.â
âThatâs not how it works,â the bartender replies, and Logan knows heâs screwed. Another public establishment heâs been banned fromâfucking perfect.
Will there ever be a day where heâs not treated like garbage?
âIt does now,â an unknown voice joins the conversation, and Logan glances to his side, arching a brow. The masked man doesnât let his stare falter. âLeave the bottle.â
âDo I know you, bub?âÂ
âYou donât, but I know you.â
This serves as evidence of how pliant heâs become. Years ago, he wouldâve already wiped the floor with this guy. They didnât call him Logan âshort fuseâ Howlett for nothing. But now? He just canât bring himself to do it.
âEverybody does. Iâm theââ
Here it comes, the reminder of his personal calvary.
ââWolverine.â Once he finishes the sentence, his words taste bitter. Perhaps itâs the venom on his tongue, or maybe itâs just the alcohol from yesterday kicking him again. Either way, both hit hard.
âYes, you are,â the stranger says, continuing to stare at him, as if Loganâs worth the effort. âAnd Iâm going to need you to come with me. Right now.â
Logan holds his breath. The worst part of it all is that his dayâs just getting started. He has no clue who this guy is or why heâs claiming to need him.
But heâs got the wrong manâLogan doesnât know him, and he sure as hell doesnât have anything good to offer.
Or so he believed five minutes ago. Life seems to have its own way of surprising him.
Knowing heâll regret it later, he closes his fingers around the whiskey bottle, chugging the liquor until darkness takes over his senses.
Nighty-night, Logan.
I'm aware that you're not mine, and nor will you ever be.
Iâve spent sleepless nights trying to figure out
where this need to call you mine stems from.Â
You're like an antique, a rare piece displayed
in a crowded bazaar, drawing curious glances.
Iâm aware that you're not mine
because I haven't bought you yet;
I hold no claim over you,
nor can I control who touches you and who doesn't.
I want you to be mine,
but no amount of money would buy your soul.
You're beyond reachâsomeone has already marked you.
Iâm aware that youâre not mine,Â
and I guess maybe thatâs how life is meant to be.
âBullshit,â you mutter softly into the quiet of your apartment, where the only sound is the echo of your own voice.
Chewing the end of your pen, your eyes narrow as they skim over the poem youâd written over a month ago.
Since then, youâve been working on refining the details, but something is missingâthat you can feel. The flow is awkward, the choice of words stiff. Itâs like a puzzle that doesnât quite fit together.Â
You take a long sip from your coffee, tucking both knees up onto the chair you're sitting in. 7:30 a.m., and already, your mind is spinning, diving headfirst into a poem when countless other things are demanding your attentionâlike, a hundred things, really.
Right now, cracking this piece feels more important than any other task on your list.
Who do you write to? That part is easyâyour soulmate. That deceased, probably buried, long-gone soulmate of yours.
It shouldnât be funny, but thereâs an absurdity to it.
Without warning, a memory slips into your thoughtsâone girl you used to work with once advising you to change the subject of your writing.
âYou should go for some self-love crap. People usually eat that up,â she said, not even bothering to look up from her nails, red polish smeared over the edges.
Her fingers were a mess, coated in that fiery hue, but she didnât seem to care as she tapped your notebook with her lacquered index finger. âThis is repetitive. Keep writing about the same thing, and people will get bored of you.â
âI havenât published them yet,â you answered, your voice coming out more high-pitched than usual, betraying the doubt you intended to suppress. Her blue eyes flicked up, studying your face as you slid the now red-stained notebook back into your bag, away from her careless, messy fingers. âI thought⊠I thought we were supposed to write about what we feel passionate about.â
That managed to catch her attention. Passionate. She let out a laughâsharp and cold, like something straight out of a villainâs script in a childrenâs movie. It grated against your ears.
âSweetie, you call that passionate?â She waved her hand dismissively, standing up from the table.
Taller, older, and more secureâjust the fact that she gave you her time shouldâve made you feel grateful. âNot to be a bitch, but what you showed me is kind of depressing.âÂ
Kind of depressing. From that moment on, you kind of hated her. Small victories, thoughâthe agency fired her a year later. You like to think you kind of won that battle.
Still, she mightâve been right about one thing: your writing does fall into patterns. Itâs predictable, to say the leastâthe rhythm, the themes. Even the metaphors you include can be found in several of your poems.
Are you⊠lazy? Has someone revealed the way to break out of it? If there is, you figure you're fine without it.
You donât want to write the kind of articles sheâd churn out about the latest trends or the five best positions to get pregnant faster. Nor do you want to pick apart celebrities' lives for a flashy headline.
What you do want is to write about love. Real love. Even if you are not the most qualified person to do it. Even if nobody wants to read the words from someone who has never experienced it in the flesh.
And youâll get thereâhow? Youâre still figuring that out.
As long as you live and breathe, love will remain in your thoughts, haunting youâespecially with your muse being the fleeting dream of a soulmate you never got to meet in the first place.
But itâs time to start your dayâthe real one. The one where you have to step outside the safety of your four walls and deal with reality.
The to-do list assembles in your mind: groceries, that book youâve been meaning to pick up, emails you need to answer.
You let your mind take over, guiding you through the motions without a second thought. As you head back to your room, you get rid of the comfortable robe you love so much.
Next, your shirt comes off, tossed carelessly onto the bed. Just as you're about to step out of your pajama pants, you notice them.
The scars.
Theyâre not the same, not the faded lines etched into your skin that you could see every night behind your eyelids. New marks glow against your flesh, each one a map of something you donât yet understand, standing out like new brushstrokes on an old canvas.
You canât help but freeze, your breath faltering for a moment, and you nearly trip over yourself. Kicking your pants to the side, you stare down at your hips, thighs, the hollow of your ribcage.Â
Tentatively, you press your fingers into the lines, expecting them to fade, to disappear under your touch like some peculiar illusion.
But they donât. They remain. You can feel the raised edges, the subtle roughness, the heat beneath your touch.
These scars are different from the ones you had before. Under no circumstances are they the faint memories you once carried. Noâthese are fresh and vibrant. Marks that shouldnât exist, the stories theyâve witnessed unfamiliar to you.
Within seconds, youâre sobbing, and you blink through the wetness clouding your vision, wiping your tears of disbelief (and maybe hope?) away with the back of your hand.
Nothing changes. Theyâre still there.
You've never heard of scars returning like this. It goes against everything in the manual on your shelf. Scars vanish when a soulmate dies, but they donât come back. Not like this. And they certainly donât change.Â
Barely able to stand without stumbling, you scramble to your phone. The first person you call is your mom, your fingers shaking as you press the buttons. She screams into the phone, and all you can do is laugh through the tears.
What doesnât sit right with her is the change in the scars. She mentions something about reaching out to a specialist, insisting that your case is rareâone in a million.
Almost immediately, you think of Wade, knowing heâd want to hear this. God, heâd be ecstatic. Before you even realize it, youâre standing in front of his door, finger hovering over the bell.
Thatâs when the realization hits you: heâs been gone for nearly three days, off doing whatever it is he does.
Ringing the bell, a smile tugs at your lips. News like these are meant to be shared.
âAlthea, itâs me!â you call out, hoping sheâll hear you. You press your forehead against the door, fidgeting with your fingers. âI have something to tell you.â
Logan has had better days. Days that didnât involve escaping The Void, fighting a hundred Wades, or saving an earth that wasnât even his to begin with.
You know, normal daysâof being sneered at while drinking to forget and, fuck, how many hours has he been sober? It feels like an eternity.
When the adrenaline wears off and the heroism fades, heâs back to being just Logan again. If he had a watch, heâd probably tap the glass and fake impatience to Wade, pretending heâs got somewhere else to be.
He should leave. Thatâs his first impulse: to escape before itâs too late, but a question arises in his mind: does he truly want to?
Wade watches as Logan rises to his feet, planning to walk away. Pretty stupid, Logan thinks, considering he knows no one else in this universeâapart from the scarred man heâs become friends with against his will.
âLogan!â Wade yells his name, his voice light but firm enough to halt him in his tracks. Logan turns to face him, greeted by Wadeâs familiar, infuriating smile.
It's a silent invitation to a new beginning.
Nothingâs holding him back, so why not accept it? The odds of being the target of hateful glares are lower here, and thatâs reason enough for Logan to give a small tilt of his head and return to the bench where Wade remains seated.
âWeâre gonna be roommates!â the latter exclaims, a wide grin stretching across his face as they head toward the building. âCan you imagine all the fun weâll have?â
Logan presses his lips into a thin line. âLooking forward to it,â he murmurs, a small glimmer of sarcasm slipping into his tone, although Wade takes his words at face value.
âMe too, roomie. Me too.â
âLetâs not use that word.â
Wade holds the door open for Logan with an exaggerated bow. âWhy not? Itâs the truth. We can even share my bed if thatâsââ
The sound of Loganâs claws succeeds in silencing him. Wade recoils and covers his crotch, no doubt remembering past close calls.
âYou know what? You can have the bed. Iâll take the couch. No problem.â
Was moving in with Wade the worst idea heâs had in a while? Absolutely. The reason? Althea, the elderly woman he lives with, isnât answering the door, and he doesnât have his keys.
Logan covers his eyes with a hand, silently questioning all of his life choices. And itâs only been ten minutes.
âThis doesnât happen often,â Wade reassures him, rubbing his neck.
âHard to believe,â Logan mutters, some unknown muscle in his jaw beginning to ache from how hard heâs gritting his teeth. âYou just leave the house without your fucking keys?â
Wade huffs, jutting out a hip in mock offense. âThose TVA guys didnât exactly send a âWeâre here to ruin your dayâ memo. I was ambushed, okay?â he retorts, keeping a finger glued to the doorbell, its shrill ring gnawing at Loganâs already thin patience. âAl, I swear to God, Iâm replacing your blood pressure pills with laxatives if you donât wake up!â
âHow old is she?â Logan asks, searching for anything to keep him from snapping the other manâs neck. Peaceful thoughts.
âCompared to you, sheâs basically a newborn,â Wade replies, rocking back and forth on his heels. Heâs having the time of his lifeâmeanwhile, Loganâs self-control is reaching its limit.
His claws twitch in his knuckles. Heâs had enough, and with a jerk of his left hand, they gleam as they slide out, ready to break the damn door.Â
But then Wade jumps in front of him.
âWhoa, whoa, whoa. Easy there, buddy! Iâm not letting you turn my door into a strainer.â
âMove,â Logan barks, not an ounce of friendliness in his tone. His stare is flat, unfazed.
âIâd rather not. You canât just go around breaking peopleâs doors, man. Not cool,â Wade blurts quickly, placing both hands on Loganâs chest, pushing him away. âHow about I ask my neighbor, huh? I gave her a spare set of keys for situations like these.â
âI thought you said this didnât happen often.â
âWell, lifeâs full of disappointments.â
Before Logan can answer back, Wade rushes to the door next to his, slamming his fist on it like a madman, his finger hammering the doorbell simultaneously.
The devilâs orchestraâa symphony straight from hell.
Logan grabs Wadeâs wrist before he can knock again, hissing: âHave some manners, will you?âÂ
Wade tries to shake his arm free from Loganâs tight grip. âSheâs in there. I know it,â he replies in the same tone, but now he uses his other hand to ring the doorbell with greater feeling.
After a pause, he stamps his foot on the floor, throwing his head back. âCome on! Is this how you treat me after being away? Shame on you, Missy!â
This neighbor must be very patient, Logan thinks, to keep up with a guy like Wade without often seeing red.
As the door finally swings open, his grip on Wade loosens, and his hand falls limply to his side.
âWhat⊠the fuck?â
The sound of your voiceâsoft, slightly groggy from sleepâpulls his attention away from the door incident. His gaze is fixed entirely on youâyou look as if youâve just rolled out of bed, which makes sense since itâs still early.
Back in The Void, Wade had rambled on about all his friends, you included. Logan recalls how he had described you: a book editor who lived on her own and loved reading. You were youngerâbut then again, who wasnât younger than him?
The picture Wade had shown him, with you standing in the background, hadnât done you justice. He had found you attractive then, but seeing you in person?
Youâre⊠far more than he expected.
More beautiful, for starters.
Fuck. Why is he even thinking about that? He mustâve been staring at you for quite a whileâyou glance at him like a startled lamb, clearly feeling self-conscious under his unwavering stare.
âMay I know,â you start, tightening your robe, âwhy you were banging on my door like that? I thought I was getting robbed for a minute.â You direct your question at Wade, avoiding Loganâs presence, which makes something tighten in his chest.
He finds the way you stifle a yawn endearing, though.
Okay, thatâs enough, he tells his mind. Let it go.
Wade steps in first, dropping his mask on the nearest surface. âHello, my dear. Oh, yes, Iâm fine. Just a few scratches. No, I wasnât partyingâI was kidnapped. Thanks for asking.â
You draw in a long breath, rubbing your eyes to wake up once and for all, and then you proceed to gesture for Logan to enter. Even now, you find it difficult to maintain eye contact with him. âDo youâwould you like to come in?â
Not only are you pretty, but also polite. He nods, muttering a gruff: âYeah, thank you.â
As he walks past you, your shoulders brush briefly, sending an unexpected jolt through him. A tingling sensation on the verge of being electrifying that has him knitting his brows.
His gaze finds yours, searching your expression to see if you felt it too. But you look away, closing the door to go after Wade.
Great. You must think heâs a weirdo.Â
âIâm always up for company, but why so early?â you ask your friend, rummaging through the kitchen cabinets. âAnd are you going to tell me what happened the other day? You left without saying anything.â
Wade hops onto a stool at the kitchen counter, swinging his legs like a child. âYou know Al. When it comes to sleeping, sheâs like a much older version of Sleeping Beauty,â he replies with a grin, snatching the mug you were about to use for your morning coffee. âThanks, youâre such a doll.â
âThat wasâmine,â you sigh, hitting him in the thigh, and Wade winces with a fake whine. âI donât think Iâve missed you that much. Go back to being missing in action,â you say, grabbing another mug and filling it before raising it toward Logan. âCoffee?â
Logan hesitates. Youâre treating him like youâve known him for years, not minutes. âIâm⊠good.â
âYou sure? I made it fresh, just before you guys arrived.â
âDonât worry, Iâmââ
âI love the chemistry here,â Wade interrupts your conversation, drawing your attention back to him, âbut you still got the keys I gave you, right?â
You roll your eyes, blowing on your steamy coffee before answering. âI do, but I want answers first. And I want them now.â
Twenty minutes and a rambling, half-coherent story later, your drink has gone cold, and Loganâs patience is wearing thin⊠again.
Will he survive sleeping under the same roof as Wade? Stay tuned for more.
âAnd then I told Paradox âHe has risen, babygirlâââ
âI think youâre being too specific,â Logan interjects, noting how youâre staring into space with wide eyes. âShe seems confused.â
âI am,â you admit, rubbing your temples. He doesnât blame you: Wadeâs a terrible storyteller. You offer him a weak smile as you turn to him. âSo⊠youâre from another universe.â
âLast time I checked.â His back collapses against the couch, groaning softly. He sits beside you, and the way your eyes sweep over him, taking in his disheveled and sweaty appearance, doesnât go unnoticed by him.
âAnd how is it? I mean, do you haveââ
âIâm public enemy number one.â
Too harsh, idiot.
âOh. Thatâs⊠good to know.â
Wade says your name, and you look to your right, lifting your brows. âDo you mind if I grab the keys myself? I need a shower. Iâve been marinating in sweat and blood for way too long.â
You grimace, pointing toward your room. âTop drawer of my nightstand.â
With that, he embarks on a quest to find them, leaving Logan alone with you. Silence stretches between you two.
He doesnât know what to say, or if he should even say anything. Casual conversation isnât his forte.
âYou and WadeâŠ?â
Letting out a giggle, you lean back on the couch. âGod, no. Weâre just friends,â you explain, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. For a fleeting moment, your eyes bore into his, and then you return to burning holes in the floor. âIâm single. Havenât found my soulmate yet.â
Itâs his turn to chuckle nowâa dark, humorless sound rumbling in his chest. You chew on a cuticle, Loganâs gesture igniting a sense of curiosity in you.
âWhat?â you ask him, puzzled.
âDo you really believe in that? Soulmates who share scars?â If he were to think carefully, heâd watch his tone. Itâs too late, anywayâyou straighten your posture, your face contorting with each passing second. âI can tell you do.â
âAnd I can tell you donât.â
âWhy would I? Those are lies,â he retorts, the corners of his mouth turning upward.
His opinion is anything but objective, totally biased, given that every time he dove into loveâs arms, he was met with the crude reality: not everyoneâs meant to be loved, himself included.
The look you give him is enough to wipe the smirk off his face.Â
âSoulmates exist, Logan. We all have one.â Thereâs a certainty in your tone, marked by the subtle way in which you say his name, that he finds alluring. He shouldnât, especially when you seem angry above all.Â
âAnd where is yours, then?â
He regrets it as soon as the words leave his mouth. Your expression becomes inscrutable. You could be either disappointed, frustrated, or even exasperatedâsad, perhaps?
Logan feels as though a weight has settled on his shoulders just from staring into your eyes.
You strike back with silence. Plain, pure, dreadful silence that has him wondering if heâs breathing properly.
At long last, Wade comes back from his expedition, keys dangling from his fingers. âIt was quite the treasure hunt, you know? Youâve got a lot of garbage in there.â He sticks his face between Loganâs and yours when you don't answer him. âGuys, is there something wrong? Are you doing a staring contest? If so, can I join?â
âI need to start getting ready for work,â you announce, standing up from the couch. Logan mimics you, and you open the door, your fingers curling around the knob. âYou should get going. And Wade,â you pause, acknowledging only him, âI need to talk to you later. In private.â
Without Logan. Thatâs what you wanted to say but didnât.
âSure, my queen. I live to serve,â Wade says in rejoinder, and he kisses your forehead briefly, which forces Logan to avert his gaze the whole time his lips are on you, feeling uncomfortable watching. âTake care, alright?âÂ
You give Wade a small nod, waiting until heâs outside your apartment to glance at Logan.
âGoodbye,â you croak, and he knows he should say something, that heâ
The door almost closes on his nose.
Had he been an asshole? He was merely expressing his thoughts. The idea of soulmates didnât sit well with him.
Once settled into Wadeâs apartment, Logan steps into the shower, water rinsing off his body. Yet he finds himself unable to stop thinking about you.
The disappointment in your eyes when he asked about your soulmate.
The coldness in your tone at the end, so different from the warmth you initially offered.
He feels drawn to you, as if some sort of invisible string is tying the two of you. Were it possible, he would use his own claws to cut it, but he canât discern where it begins or ends. Instead, he prefers to blame his touch-starved state for this reaction.Â
Heâs already hating this earth. So much for a man whose skin refuses to scar.
And where is yours, then?
His words shouldnât have stung the way they did. All the charmâthe gruff exterior, the mysterious personalityâhad vanished.
The guy from another universe, with the claws, the healing abilities, and the raspy voice, is a moron.
A ridiculously good-looking moron? Yes, but a moron nonetheless.
There is something about him you canât quite place. A chill creeps down your spine as you replay the instant your eyes first locked. Your body had reacted in ways it never had before, drawn to him like metal to a magnet.
Why? Youâd seen handsome men before, even been with some. Yet, youâve never felt thisâthis gravitational pull, this inexplicable pull to invade someoneâs personal space.
How would your soulmate feel if he saw you like this, lusting after another man?
You shudder at the thought. This isnât like you. You pride yourself on loyaltyâperhaps a little too much. You donât read two books at the same time, and youâve been buying the same brand of shampoo for the past five years.
So why now? Why him? It feels like a betrayal of your own mind, your conscience turned against you.
Let things stay as they areâitâs safer that way. You donât want to know the reason behind this forceful need.
After all, being his grumpy and ill-tempered self, heâll stay holed up in Wadeâs apartment, avoiding any interaction with the real world. And you? Youâll forget about him. Easy-peasy.
That afternoon, as you take a nap on the couch, he invades your dreams. Itâs not even a wet dream, but heâs there, staking a claim on a part of you he has no right to.
You wake up with your hand clutching your chest, a frustrated punch landing on the nearest cushion.
The next day, you drop by Wadeâs place for a quick visit, your eyes darting around the room every few seconds, half-expecting Logan to appear out of nowhere.
âI told you, heâs sleeping. That guyâs got a fucked up sleep schedule,â Wade says, urging you to take a seat beside him at the table. âWhy donât you wanna see him?â
Because heâs messing with your sanity. Your brain cells are practically disintegrating at the mere thought of breathing the same air as him.
âI justâI need to tell you something.â
âAre you pregnant?â
âWhat? Wade, no! Youâve been gone for three daysâpregnancies take months.â
âIâd make an amazing uncle, though.â He grabs your hand between his, his eyes sparkling with mischief. âBabies are so adorable at thatââ
âMy scars are back,â you cut him off, putting an end to his nonsense. Pulling the neck of your sweater to the side, you show him the thin lines etched into your collarbone. âBut they are different this time.â
âDifferent? You mean they changed?â His disbelief is clear as he reaches for your arm, frowning while he inspects more of your scars. Wadeâs jaw slackens, color draining out of his face. âFuck. Fuck!â
âFuck?â
âYeah, fuck!â His strong arms envelop you, and you lean into the embrace, resting your cheek against his shoulder. âIs this good news? Are we happy? Does this mean I have a shot at becoming an uncle after all?â
You laugh a little at his eagerness, rubbing gentle circles into his back. âI am happy. I justâI donât know what these changes mean yet.â
Althea steps out of the bathroom, her cane tapping the floor in rhythmic beats. âI already told you what they mean.â
Wade pulls away from you, glaring at her. âYou meddler! Havenât we talked about not eavesdropping? Hasnât life taught you anything after all these decades?â
âUpside of being blind: Iâve never seen this motherfucker in Crocs,â she says, pointing her cane at you, though you know her aim is Wade. âDownside of being blind: I hear everything in this apartment. And you, kid, have a new soulmate.â
âI know what we talked about the other day, but... it doesnât make sense, Al. You only get one soulmate,â you protest, feeling the tension grow as you pace around the table. âWhy canât it just be simple? My friends are getting engaged, years are flying by, and Iâm still out here chasing this⊠this idiot who no one can even find!â
Thatâs when Logan appears, emerging from his room, holding several empty beer cans. He rolls his eyes and walks straight into the kitchen. âGreat. Who else is coming tonight?â
Wade smirks, clapping a hand on Loganâs shoulder as he looks at you. âSweetie, Loganâs going through his second puberty at the ripe old age of two hundred. The pediatrician said itâs just hormones, nothing to worry about. Excuse his shitty attitude.â
With a low groan, Logan shrugs off Wadeâs hand, scowling. If anything, the younger manâs grin just grows bigger. âWolvie, I gotta admit that whole âDonât fall in love with me or Iâll break your heartâ personality shouldnât turn me on, but here we are.â
You decide to take that as your cue to leave. You grab your bag, muttering a quick goodbye to Althea as you head for the door.
But Logan calls after you. âCan we talk?â
You freeze, your back to him. âHow much did you hear?â you ask, not daringânot being ableâto meet his gaze.
âAll of it,â he admits after a beat, and you curse under your breath. âBut it doesnâtâHey!â He follows you into the hallway. âIâm talking to you!â
âNo, youâre not.â You fumble for your keys, fingers shaking as you try to unlock your door. âLeave me alone.â
âI wonât,â he mumbles behind you, his voice softer now. âCome on. Donât be so harsh.â
âI canât believe you,â you whisper, finally finding the right key and jiggling it into the lock. The door swings open, and you step into the safety of your apartment. But when you try to close it, Loganâs foot wedges into the gap, blocking it. âGet out.â
He doesnât budge. âNo.â
âLogan, Iâm not in the mood.â
âWell, me neither. But I owe you an apology.â
You wonder if he realizes the hold he has on you. No matter how hard you try to mask it, the unbearable pounding of your heart betrays you.
Scanning his features, you trace the rugged contours of his face with your eyes, lingering on the lines on his foreheadâthe aftermath of what it looks like a life lived through bitterness and pain.
âCan I come in?â he insists, his tone on the verge of sounding pleading.
You hesitate. The sensible part of you screams to send him away. Thinking that avoiding him would be as easy as stealing candy from a baby is a long-forgotten idea now: youâd been naĂŻve to even consider it possible.
Heâs going to find a way to sneak into your space, your homeâand youâll let him in. Youâll grant him a chance to cross a boundary that shouldâve been already drawn.
It feels like youâre fifteen again, infatuated with the guy you know you shouldnât get close to. Paul from high school wasnât your soulmate back thenâLogan isnât now.
The smart thing would be to take a step back, accept his apology, and ask him to leave. Thatâs how you preserve what little remains of your sanity and protect your heart, which is already hanging by a thread.
But God, it feels so good to be near him.
You step aside. He walks in. Something tells you this wonât be the last time.
âIâm waiting.â You stay near the counter, pressing your back against it, and keeping your distance. Logan sits awkwardly on the edge of your couch, unsure of where to begin.
âLook, about what I said yesterdayâŠI didnât mean it. Iâm sorry.â He sounds sincere, earnest. âI didnât know you believed in soulmates.â
âItâs not a matter of believing in them or not, Logan. My soulmate is out thereâyours too.â
Your words coax a grin from him, and he shakes his head. âI guess weâll never see eye to eye on that.â In a fluid motion, he crosses the room, and you find his unexpected proximity a bit exasperating. âDo you forgive me?â
âIâll think about it.â
âGive me a break, darlinâ. Iâm trying my best.â
âWell, you were an asshole.â
âYes.â
âThe first time we exchanged words.â
âAlso yes.â
âAnd now youâre apologizing.â
âPositive. I just did.â
Itâs not that youâre easyâitâs Loganâs persuasive allure that gets to you.
âWhat else can I do to win your forgiveness?â he wonders aloud, his syrupy voice making you tighten your grip on the counter.
An idea sparks in your mind. You move toward the pile of books next to the TV, eyeing the titles, until one catches your attention: your copy of Jane Eyre by Charlotte BrontĂ«, one of the first novels youâd read when you were younger.
Itâs adorned with colorful post-its, and the pages, sort of rough to the touch, are marked with handwritten notes in the margins.
âHow do you feel about reading?â
âNot my strongest suit,â he answers, arching a brow as he takes in your enthusiasm. âWhatâs going on in that head of yours?â
âYou want me to believe youâre sorry for what you said? Then read this,â you say, wiggling the book in front of him, âand we can start over.â
âWhat is it about? Let me guess: love and soulmates. Did I get it right?â he asks, playfulness lacing his tone. His breath hitches as you press the book against his chest, silently urging him to take it. His pinky grazes your hand, feeling your skin and sending a jolt through you.
Logan watches you with half-lidded eyes, and it takes every ounce of willpower to tear yourself away from him and his maddening touch.
You clear your throat. âOpen it to page one hundred fifty-three.â
âDo youâyou remember specific pages?â
âAnd read whatâs underlined in black,â you murmur, eyes fluttering closed for an instant. âPlease.â
Logan must mutter something along the lines of âYouâve got to be kidding meâ before searching for it. Itâs only then that he begins to recite the passage:
He is not to them what he is to me. He is not of their kind. I believe he is of mine; â I am sure he is â I feel akin to him â I understand the language of his countenance and movements; though rank and wealth sever us widely, I have something in my brain and heart, in my blood and nerves, that assimilates me mentally to him. Did I say, a few days since, that I had nothing to do with him but to receive my salary at his hands? Did I forbid myself to think of him in any other light than a paymaster? Blasphemy against nature! Every good, true, vigorous feeling I have gathers impulsively round him. I know I must conceal my sentiments: I must smother hope; I must remember that he cannot care much for me. For when I say that I am of his kind, I do not mean that I have his force to influence, and his spell to attract; I mean only that I have certain tastes and feelings in common with him. I must, then, repeat continually that we are for ever sundered: â and yet, while I breathe and think, I must love him.
Youâve chosen a damn good page.
Logan looks up from the book, his mouth slightly parted, as if heâs about to speak. You interject before he can find the words.
âYouâve got a week to read it.â
âHow long is it again?â
âFour hundred pages.â
He surrenders, sighing in defeat. âYouâre killing me here, yâknow?â
âWrite an opinion essay if possible.â
Right there, Logan offers you a mock laugh. âHaha. Thatâs so funny.â
âIt is for me,â you talk back, unable to hide your smile from him, and soon he mirrors your expression.Â
As Logan steps toward the door, he hesitates and glances back. âWeâre all good then?â
Leaning against the doorframe, you raise your chin defiantly. âWeâll be when you finish the book.â
What he says next has your stomach turning into knots. âYouâre trouble.â His tone shiftsâno longer teasing, but grounded in truth. Gone are the jokes; he seems to mean every word.
For the rest of the night, one line from the book doesnât stop echoing in your mindâthe line about soulmates: I have something in my brain and heart, in my blood and nerves, that assimilates me mentally to him.Â
Youâre trouble for him, and heâs trouble for you. You hope he knows it too.
He thought that not seeing you for a week would snuff out his feelings. That by next Wednesday, every thought tied to your name, every urge to uncover the last of your secrets, would be extinguished.
That's what time usually did: it diminished dangerous desires that couldn't afford to be voiced, and buried those longings that had no place in the light of day.
Logan now figures heâs been underestimating the spell you cast on him with just a few glances and the intensity of your eyes. Heâs seen you animated, angryâboth defiant and vulnerable.
Each of your gestures feels like a memory he canât quite place.
The way you laugh, the right corner of your mouth lifting just slightly higher than the leftâhe swears it isnât the first time he's seen a smile brighter than the sun.
Still, he convinces himself itâs all in his head. He must be the one losing his mind, the years finally catching up to him. Itâs the only reasonable explanation for the thoughts that consume his every waking moment.
Heâs wrongâyouâre right. Heâs seeing things where there are noneâyouâre simply too kind.
Too kind. Too young. Too damn clever for your own good, with your books and that sharp mind of yours. He wonders how you see yourself.
Do you like the reflection in the mirror? Are you content with the way your life has turned out?
Do you, too, lie awake at night, the bed stretching endlessly, aching for a touch that never comes?
The walls in this place are paper-thin. When darkness falls, and the moon rises, the big, scary Wolverine canât close his eyes.
Instead, he listens.
Some nights, you play the same movie on repeatâa romantic comedy that lasts exactly one hundred and twenty minutes. For two hours straight, heâs privy to your laughter, your commentary at the characters on the screen.
He hears you cry when the lead couple drifts apart after a terrible argument, but they always find their way back to each other, and you watch every second until the credits roll.
None of the other films you pick ever ends in heartbreak, he realizes. They all have happy endingsâthe kind you wish for yourself.
One way or another, there must be a way to get you out of his system. He knows, without a doubt, that you wouldnât want him. Heâs not your soulmate, and itâs clear that finding that person has become the center of your existence.
Logan canât allow himself to be the moron who derails your purpose.
Sure, heâs done bad things, but he likes to believe that at least a part of himâsome small fractionâhasnât been lost yet. That thereâs a piece of him that can be saved, which is the reason why he stayed here: to be a better man than the one he was in his universe.
But itâs hard. Harder still because itâs you who disrupts his quest for redemption. How is he supposed to go on with his life when every thought circles back to you? The idea of holding you, kissing youâsleeping beside you haunts him.
And so the images blur, new dreams twisting with his usual nightmares.
Which one is worse, he can no longer tell.
One afternoon, while deliberately steering clear of Jane Eyre, he reluctantly turns to Wade in search of answers. âTell me more about her.â
Wade, lounging on the couch, stops scrolling on his phone and drops it onto his chest, drawing his eyebrows together.
âHer? Who do you mean?â His tone oozes with feigned innocence, barely containing a shit-eating grin when Logan grits out your name, his tone rough, almost pained. âOh, Romeo. Youâve got it bad.â
Intending to maintain some semblance of control, Logan strides into the kitchen, grabbing a glass and the last bottle of whiskey. As he tips it, only a few drops fall into the glass.
âNo, I donât,â he says, extending his arm and holding the bottle up. âWeâre out of whiskey.â
âYou keep saying we, but youâre the only alcoholic in this apartment.â Wade kicks off his shoes, propping his feet on the coffee table. âSo, why the sudden interest in the lady? She getting through that tough exterior of yours? Iâll give her points for that.â
âAnd you wonder why I donât talk to you.â
âI saw the book,â the younger man replies, lacing his fingers behind his head, watching as Logan rummages through the fridge with increasing frustration. âYou never told me you were into classics. If Iâd known, Iâd have gotten you a copy of Pride and Prejudice.â
âShut your mouth.â
âIâm sorry, werenât you the one who came to me, looking for the essential oil of truth?â
The silence that follows is thick and uncomfortable, mood-killing.
âSee what I just did there?â he adds, and Logan feels forced to shake his head from side to side, appearing conflicted. Wade lets out a low huff. âThat was Virginia Woolf. Add her to your reading list.â
âHas anyone ever told you how obnoxious you are?â
âMore times than I can count. Iâm just not everyoneâs cup of coffee.â
âTea, Wade. Not everyoneâs cup of tea.â
âWhatever.â Wade simpers, as though Loganâs correction is the punchline to a joke only he gets. He sets his palms flat on the table, looming closer with a mischievous glint in his eyes. âSo, what would you like to know about my dear friend?â
Logan hesitates, the weight of his question heavy on his tongue. âWhatâs the deal with her scars?â
The air shifts. Wadeâs playful expression fades and he tilts his head, his tone turning serious. âI donât think itâs my story to tell,â he begins, gaze dropping to the floor. âBut she lost them years ago. She was living a normal life, and one day, they were justâgone, like they were never there. It broke her. We didnât know each other back then, but youâve seen her.â
Wadeâs eyes flick back up, while Logan stands there, tongue-tied. âYou even know the kind of books she readsânothing can shake that belief in real love, in soulmates being destined. Imagine how she mustâve felt when she found out her presumed soulmate was dead⊠without a single warning.â
From what he had heard, that sense of loss was impossible to put into words. Those whoâd gone through it described the experience as if half of youâyour body, your soul, your very essenceâwas being ripped away.
The pain was excruciating, and the only way to survive it was by means of tolerating itâno remedy, just the endurance to outlast the agony.
It wasnât just a momentary hurt. It was the kind of torment that lingered, making you question who you were and what little remained of you.
You and Logan had more in common than heâs willing to admit.
âSheâs a good person,â he mutters absent-mindedly, his thumb grazing the cover of the book. He had carried it everywhere for a week now, without even cracking it open.
âOh, you dirty pigâŠâ Wade whispers, his eyes lighting up as if a lightbulb suddenly went off in his mind. âNow I get it. You wanna know her. Like, really know her!â
âI donâtââ
âYour sex life is none of my business. Iâm all up for you putting your mutant dick to work, otherwise itâs just wasted potential. But itâs my friend weâre talking about.â
Loganâs jaw tightens, and he snaps. âDrop the speech, alright? Iâm not trying to get into her pants. I just want to be nice. Thatâs all.â
âNice, huh? Whatâs your version of nice? Starting a two-person book club?â Wade stifles a laugh, pressing a finger to Loganâs chest. âLook, if you want to sleep with her, and the feelingâs mutual, then go for it. Just tell me thisâhow longâs it been since you visited Pussy Village? Was it before or after the Big Bang?â
Things are never truly serious with Wade Wilson. âIâm not answering that.â
Wade raises both hands in surrender, still chuckling. âFine, fine. But if youâre really interested, just be clear about it. She doesnât need a half-assed situationship.â
By now, itâs like a mantra he repeats again and again, hoping that eventually both Wade and he will start to believe it. âI donât want to have sex with her.â
As he heads back to his (now Wadeâs old) room, Wade adds, âIâm sure sheâd appreciate it if you underlined some quotes you like.â
Much to his dismay, thatâs exactly what Logan does.
His handwriting isnât the most legible, but he tries his best, leaving notes in the margins of some pages, such as:
I hate this John kid.
Her aunt is a cunt.
This is too cheesy.
Mr. Rochesterâs married?
St. Johnâwhat a prick.
He finishes the book at 7 a.m. A long-ass bookâjust for you. While getting ready for work, Wade calls him an unemployed fucker, and Logan knows nothing better than to shoot back a similar insult, stretching his arms as the first rays of sunlight creep through the curtains.
Wade was right about something, even if Logan himself doesnât wish to admit it: heâs behaving like a teenagerâstaying up until dawn, practically chained to the bed without daring to go out. Falling for a girl he didnât know a week ago.
Learning to control his impulses has been a hard task, especially with his temperament. Over the years, Logan thought heâd mastered the art of self-restraint, long past the point where his body moved without his mindâs permission.
As his feet carry him down the hall toward your apartment, he recognizes how wrong he is.
This is a terrible idea, he thinks. And yet, his fist knocks on the wood. Three times.
Fuck.
The door opens just a crack. You peek out, your face barely visible, eyes puffy from sleep. âLogan?â
His name isnât a fancy one. Itâs pretty normal, pretty standard. There must be a thousand other guys named like himâyet itâs only when you say it, your voice turning it into something rare and unique, that it feels different, like itâs only his.
The tone you use with him isnât the one heâs used to: Logan, youâre a disappointment. Logan, how dare you turn your back on your friends? Logan, theyâre all dead. Logan, itâs your fault.
Yours is inviting, and warm, and new. He likes new.
âI just finished it,â he answers, holding up the book, mindful not to grip it too tight as not to crumple the pages.
You scratch the back of your head, blinking at him. âYou just finished it⊠at 7 a.m.?
Yeah, it sounds stupid now that you say it out loud, but itâs true. Hoping his reaction is enough to explain what he canât put into words, he gives you a slow nod.
This time, you donât wait for him to say more. âCome in?â
Yes, this is what heâs been looking forward all week. This moment, this interaction.
This Come in. This Yes, thank you. Youâre so kind.
His quiet acceptance of your invitation, the unpronounced thought of I donât deserve this, but I canât back off now, because how could I ever say no to you?
He follows you into the kitchen as you move to make tea. âWant some?â you ask, but he declines the offer. If he were to drink anything right now, it would be something much stronger, not tea, despite the early hour. âYouâre here to talk about the book?â
âWell, you told me I could come back after reading it.â
âI did,â you say, a small smile tugging at your lips as you hide it behind your mug. âI just wasnât expecting you to be so punctual.â
You donât need to know that heâs been counting down the seconds, marking each minute in his mind since the last time he saw you. Thatâs a detail heâll keep to himself. âItâs a good story.â
âTell me about it.â You smile even wider, and he takes a moment to absorb the details of your faceâthe crinkles by your eyes, the way your nose scrunches when youâre amused. âI lent you my most precious book. Fell in love with it years ago.â
âI can see why you liked it,â he explains, flipping through the pages to find the one he marked. âAll the romance and the yearningââ
âHey, itâs also good for other reasons,â you try to defend yourself, but any other argument dies on your lips when he finds the passage he was looking for and begins to read aloud.
âI sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you, especially when you are near me, as now,â he recites, his voice lower, almost reverent, as he looks up from the page to meet your gaze. âIt is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your frame.â
You seem startled by the sharp sound of him closing the book. Heâs sort of breathless, and from where he stands, he can tell you are too. âThatâs one of my favorite passages.â
âI canât blame you for believing in soulmates if this is the kind of thing you read growing up,â he teases, handing the book back to you.
Though a part of him almost wishes he didnât have toâso that it would still be a reason, a tether, pulling him back to you again and again.
Grinning, you take it, your eyes remaining trained on his. âI happen to notice it hasnât changed your perspective on soulmates.â
âItâll take more than a book.â
âThis is, in my opinion, one of the best love stories ever written. How else will I convince you?â
âWhy do you feel like you need to convince me?â He takes a step forwardâyou take a step back. âWhy canât it be the other way around? I might end up being the one who convinces you.â
âYou could never,â you respond, clasping your hands behind your back. âIt would be like convincing me the sky is green instead of blue.â
Logan retreats slightly. âDonât you get tired?â
âOf what?â
âOf waiting. Of always being on the lookout.â
You donât react badly to his question. Youâre not even shaken, not fazed in the slightest. âWhen I meet him, Iâll know all the waiting was worth it.â
âAnd in the meantime?â Logan inquires, pressing himself further into your intimacy, edging closer as if testing the boundaries youâre willing to cross. His words are a subtle request for more, for answers. âWhat will you do until you find him?â
If you ever do, he thinks, but itâs left unsaid, lingering in his thoughts. Heâs getting better at not saying the things that sit heavy in his chest without thinking.
âI think you misunderstand, Logan.â You study him through your lashes, and he feels heâs become the keeper of your most sacred secrets. âItâs not about waiting as if my lifeâs on pause. Iâve been with other people. But in the end, I want to choose him.â
That casual admission strikes him like a wave of cold water. A flicker of jealousy burns at the edges of his composure, though he tries to smother it.
Iâve been with other people, you say, your tone so nonchalant, and yet the mental images that flood his mind are anything but comfortable.
He imagines someone else standing in your kitchen. Perhaps in five minutes, there will be another man knocking on your door, here to discuss a book, and it wonât be him.
Perhaps this isnât rare for youâall this come in, grab something to drink, letâs talk when youâre done reading.
Perhaps heâs not as important as you make him feel.
His thoughts spiral until your voice pulls him back from the brink.
âDonât you understand how beautiful it is?â Thereâs a dazzling glint in your expression, a light in your eyes that makes him ache. âOutside of these four walls, thereâs a person whoâs waiting to meet me, in the same way I expect to meet him. I canât grant myself the choice not to believe in something like this.â
Far from easing the martyr in his mind, this conversation only deepens his internal struggle. The questions overlap each other: what happens if you never find him? Would you ever consider settling for somebody else?
He rephrases that last oneâwould you ever consider being with him?
âHeâs a lucky guy,â Logan murmurs, and just like that, he feels himself slipping deeper, falling into the rabbit hole with you guiding him through the madness.
For a moment, he can pretendâpretend that matching scars and bonds that defy the rules of his principles make sense.
Maybe, just for you, heâll allow himself to believe it.
Your eyes soften with sudden emotion, glistening with the beginnings of tears. He feels the primal urge to reach out, to cup your cheek, to be there when the first tear falls. âYou think so?â you ask, your voice fragile.
I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you, especially when you are near me, as now.
âOf course I do,â he replies, his tone quiet but laden with a strange, undeniable truth.
It is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your frame.
Whatever this is between youâitâs messed up. Heâs messed up. And you⊠youâre just as tangled in this chaos for indulging it, for looking at him in that way that calls out to him.
The more time he spends with you, the less he feels like himself. Everything heâs done latelyâreading that damn book, standing in your apartment at 7 a.m.ânone of it feels like something heâd do.
Itâs not just his mind youâre messing with: itâs his very sense of self.
Loganâs smart mouth had always been a liability, getting him into trouble either by saying too much or by choosing the wrong words. Bad things had always followed in the wake of his tongue.
Somehow, when it comes to you, heâs the most careful heâs ever been. He doesnât want to upset you, nor does he want to be the cause of any sorrow that might affect your heart.
When the two of you stand at the threshold once more, just as you have other times before, you softly say: âI feel like Iâm experiencing a dĂ©jĂ vu.â
He laughs, because it sounds ridiculous. âCare to explain why?â
âYou come, we talk, you leave.â You lean against the wall, your hand ghosting over the handle. âBut you never stay that long.â
Thereâs no mistaking the layered meaning in your words. You, who work with language and its peculiarities for a living, never speak by chanceâevery phrase, every pause, carries an assigned weight. The double meaning in your statement doesnât escape either of you.
Youâre a natural at this madness, diving headfirst into it. You must be losing it, too, because your actions donât match what you said before.
Slowly, his fingers brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear, the perfect excuse to feel your skin, to close the distance without saying what he actually wants.
They say food and shelter are the basic human needs, but Logan chooses to believe they forgot to include the longing to reach out and just feel you.
âI canât stay,â he finally responds to your earlier comment, his hand still lingering against your skin.
His strengthâthe only thing saving him from completely giving inâhelps him pull himself away.
Before the impulse to kiss you becomes too overwhelming to resist, Logan leaves.
Some time later, youâre making lunch, music playing softly in the background at the same time the cityâs distinct noise finds a way to break through your tranquility.
You rely greatly on the knowledge that youâre good at multitaskingânow more than ever, with a book in one hand and the other stirring the pasta on the stove.
The warmth from the pot rises around you, but you trust yourself not to be careless. Not to be stupid enough to burn yourself with the boiling water.
This time, you miscalculate. Not only do you dip the wooden spoon into the pot, but your fingertips too.
Though it only lasts a second, and the voice in your head instantly screams Hot! Hot! Hot!, the shock makes you drop the book to the floor. You yank your hand back, racing to the sink to run it under cold water.
âFuck,â you grumble, watching the skin redden in protest. âLesson learned: no more multitasking.â
The funny thing is, just a door away, Loganâs watching a movie with Wade when he feels a sting in the tips of his fingers.
Itâs barely there, practically faint, but he looks down, inspecting his hand like it doesnât belong to his own body. His skin briefly flushes with irritation before returning to its normal state.
Wade notices his distraction. âHey, you okay?â
Logan pays no mind to it. âSure. Just felt something strange.â
Is it still called avoiding if youâre both doing it? Youâd like to think so.
For the sake of clarity, letâs say youâve been actively avoiding Logan, but truth be toldâheâs been avoiding you too. That last encounter in your apartment didnât help matters at all.
If anything, it made everything worse.
Youâve been down this road before, knowing men like him too well: theyâre everywhere, until theyâre not.
One day, they vanish without a trace, leaving you staring at the empty space they used to occupy, asking yourself âWhat happened to my Prince Charming in disguise?â
They disappear as though they never existed, and not even the best detective can track them down.
So far, your avoidance strategy has worked wonders. Maybe itâs for the best. Heâs a distractionâan undeniably attractive one, the kind anyone would want to trip over.
Yet you miss him, which is dumb: why are you missing someone you were never supposed to care about in the first place?
You return home after a long trip to the grocery store, arms laden with bags. Itâs the kind of errand that exhausts you, though you keep telling yourself itâs better than thinking about him.
As you struggle to get through the building's exit, you resign yourself to the fact that itâll take several trips to bring everything up to your apartment.
Then the elevator doors slide open, and you drop everything to the floor.
You shouldâve known better than to assume victory so soon. After days of successfully avoiding him, there he is.
And of course, itâs when you look your worstâtired from running around, weighed down by groceries, barely holding it together.
âHey,â he greets you, standing just outside the elevator, like heâs not sure if he should step inside or stay where he is. Heâs dressed in a red-and-black flannel shirt, layered over a white vest, a leather jacket tossed over his shoulders, and a pair of jeans that seem made for him.
He looks... ridiculously good.
âHi,â you manage to answer after a beat, scrambling to collect the bags youâd dropped. âJustâgive me a second.â
âLet me help you,â Logan says, ducking down to gather the groceries, but you pull them away.
âIâve got it. Are you going out? On a date, maybe?â You nod toward his clothes, trying to keep things light, teasing even.
Glancing down at himself, a crease appears between his brows, and in one swoop, he gathers all the bags with a single hand. âIâm supposed to meet Wade at a bar, but heâll survive without me.â
âLogan, you donâtââ
But heâs already moving, one hand tugging you out of the elevator, the other gesturing toward your apartment.
âNot up for debate,â he mutters. Then, without waiting for permission, he holds out his hand. âKeys.â
Sighing, you dig into your pocket and drop them into his open palm. He unlocks the door with practiced ease, stepping inside and placing the bags on your kitchen counter.
As he starts to unpack them, you stop him. âYou really donât need to do that.â
That seems to catch his attention. He pauses, turning toward you with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the counter.
His unrelenting stare sizes you up, and he cocks his head to the side. âHavenât seen you in a while.â
He thinks heâs so discreet, so smooth. âWell, Iâve been busy,â you explain, fiddling with the frayed edge of your sweater, tugging at it like it might unravel your nerves.
You hear him click his tongue. âBeen busy too.â His words hang in the air, thickening the atmosphere. Your body tenses, and you stare at his shoes, untilâ âSweetheart,â he calls you softly, and your eyes snap shut for a moment, your chin almost pressing against your chest. âMy eyes are up here.â
A quick flutter of your lashes brings you back to him, and your chest tightens with the effort it takes to look into his eyes. âDonât you have somewhere to be?â you ask, praying heâll let this go.
You watch as his mouth twitches with something halfway between a smile and a smirk. âYou already want me to leave?â
âIf you have plans, then yeah.â
He huffs out a laugh, inhaling a shallow breath like youâve missed something obvious. âWade can wait. Heâll be fine.â His expression shifts, and the playful tone in his voice falls away, replaced by something more raw. âYouâve been avoiding me.â
You canât help but snort. âOh, please. Like you havenât been doing the same.â You walk over to the couch, feeling your legs wobble beneath you. You collapse into one corner, hoping the distance will help you breathe.
Like a shadow, Logan follows after you, sitting far too close. His legs splay wide, so wide theyâre almost grazing yours.
âAt least I have a reason for it. What about you?â His hand reaches out, fingers closing around yours in a grip thatâs both firm and gentle, enhancing your anxiety. Your throat tightens, the room shrinking around you. âI need you to tell me Iâm not crazy,â he says, his voice rough and low. âI need you to tell me you feel it too.â
Panic flares in your chest, and you scramble for time. âI donât know what youâre talking about,â you mutter, but your voice cracks, the uncertainty leaking through the cracks in your bravado.
He doesnât buy your acting. âYou do. We canât keep playing dumb. Youâre gonna make me lose my fuckinâ mind one of these days.â
Itâs not just his wordsâitâs the way he stands so close, heat radiating from his body, the roughness of his hand gripping yours like heâs terrified youâll slip away.
The intensity of it all weighs on you in ways you canât even begin to describe, leaving you breathless, caught between denial and desire.
âLogan, this isnâtââ
âWhat? Okay?â Thereâs a glimpse of mirthlessness in his tone as he speaks, his forehead furrowing. âI canât stay away from you, donât you see it? It feels too good to be wrong,â he utters, inching forward. You know you should take a step back, tell him to stop. Nothing good can come from this. âIt takes two to feel these things. It canât be just me.â
âThat doesnât mean we have to give in.â Blood pounds in your ears, your pulse racing as your heart hammers unpleasantly. Little shivers of ice run through your spine, and yet, your stomach burns with desire.
More than ever, you feel yourself slipping, your sanity at risk.
Logan runs his eyes up and down your face, agitated, almost going cross-eyed. âEarlier you asked if I was going on a date. Would you like that? Me being with other people? Kissing another woman?â His hot breath caresses your cheek, and you avert your gaze momentarily. âAnswer me.â
Donât do it. For the love of God, donât. âI canâtâI donâtââ
âCome on, baby.â
âI donât want you to be with other people,â you mumble, your lips almost grazing his, and thatâs all he needs to grip your chin and pull you into a kiss.
His mouth moves hungrily over yours, pushing you back until the armrest digs into your lower back. A choked whimper gets lost in your throat, and you bring him closer by grabbing onto the lapels of his jacket, your chest pressing against his.
Logan bites down on your lip, soothing the sting with his tongue, and the moan you let out reverberates in the apartment.
âThis is what you were hiding from me?â he rasps, his forehead bumping against yours. âThese sweet sounds you make?â
You end up perched in his lap, your thighs bracketing his hips. Heâs hard beneath you, and as you shift, your center makes contact with his erection through the layers of fabric.
Both of you sigh into each otherâs mouths, your hips moving on their own accord, rocking slightly against his clothed cock. He hooks one of his arms around your waist, guiding your movements.
Everything seems to fall into place. Outside your window, birds chirp. The world feels lighter, like a better place. The beast inside you quiets, and for once, your mind is blissfully blank.
Logic? Error 404ânot found.
You tug at his hair, and Logan growls, breaking the kiss. âDo that again.â He jerks under your touch, bucking up into you. Encouraged, you pull his hair again, fingers wrapping around a strand at the nape of his neck, and youâre rewarded with a deep groan.
Heâs dizzy for it, but youâre no better, not when he trails his kisses down your neck, his mouth latching onto your skin, tasting the sweat and salt.
âI canât control myself around you,â he murmurs, groping your tits, and you wail, the ache between your legs becoming intolerable. His hands slip under your sweater, caressing the scars on your back.
Thatâs when recognition settles over you.
What are you doing? And why are you doing it?
He ceases sucking your flesh when you go rigid on top of him. Pecking your lips once again, Loganâs hands cradle your face, his thumbs rubbing circles on your cheeks. âWhatâs wrong?â
You donât understand how he does it, how he can remain so calm. Doesnât he realize the gravity of this? âWe have to stop.â
âWhy?â
âDonât ask me something you already know the answer to.â
His arms drop to his sides, releasing you from his hold. You push yourself off him, away from the couch, putting as much distance between you as you can.
Pressing your palms to your eyes, you shake your head. âGod, Iâm stupid. This is stupid.â
Your reaction seems to get on his nerves, his frustration somehow increasing. Logan stands, towering over you. âWas it stupid when you were dry humping me?â
âFuck you, Logan.â
âIâm not the bad guy here. You kissed me back.â He doesnât let up, trailing behind you as you try to escape. âYou want me as much as I want you.â
âWill you stop saying that?â you bark, throwing your arms in the air. Your chest rises and falls with rapid breaths. âYeah, we like each other. So? Does that make it right? How can you just ignore how wrong this is?â
His expression hardens, anger flashing in his eyes. âForget your idea of what's good and bad. You're just upset you can't control what you feel.â
âHeâs closer than ever.â
Logan gawks at you, his voice bitter as he goes on with his rambling. âThat fucker again? Donât you ever get tired of talking about someone who you donât even know? Because youâre certainly wearing me out.â
âYou wish you were him, donât you?â You jab your finger into his chest, feeling his heartbeat, a flutter you choose to ignore. âYou want to be my soulmate.â
âDamn right I do,â he practically spits his words, narrowing his eyes at you. âBut Iâm not him.â
âNo. Youâre not.â
Everything seems to fall out of place. Outside your window, birds donât chirpâthey scream for mercy. The world doesnât feel lighter, but heavier. The beast inside you roars back to life, restless and louder than ever, while your mind spins in chaos.
âWe shouldnât see each other anymore.â Your voice pierces through the thick silence in the room, and you swallow down the lump forming in your throat.
âIf thatâs what you want,â he replies, his jaw clenched tight, irritation radiating off him in waves.
âItâs what we both need.â
âSpeak for yourself. I donât have a soulmate.â His tone is biting, but you donât miss the undercurrent of longing in his words. âBut if in any other universe I do, I hope itâs you.â
Your hand turns the knob, and then heâs halfway out the door, sparing you one last glance before he turns his back to you.
No more visits. No more books. No more bruising kisses that leave you questioning your mere existence.
Let things stay as they areâitâs safer that way. You donât want to know the reason behind this forceful need.
After all, being his grumpy and ill-tempered self, heâll stay holed up in Wadeâs apartment, avoiding any interaction with the real world. And you? Youâll forget about him. Easy-peasy.
It didnât go well in the end.
You remember your first heartbreakâseventeen, fresh out of high school. One of your hands clutched a million dreams, and the other, a pillow soaked with your tears.
Your mother remained by your side, caressing your back, attempting to soothe the sobs that racked your body. She murmured that itâd pass, that you wouldnât feel like this forever. You believed her then, and trusted that things would eventually be okay.
Almost ten years later, another heartbreak shouldnât come as a surprise. By now, you thought you wouldâve developed the tools to survive it. You should be able to piece yourself back together by instinct.
But life, as it turns out, has a peculiar way of catching you off guard.
Whether itâs pent-up horniness, touch-starvation, or genuine affectionâit doesn't change the fact that your pseudo-relationship with Logan fell apart.
Though youâre not the one whoâs suffering the most. Neither is Logan.
Wade, the third party in this tangled mess, has somehow taken it the hardest.
âI feel like a child of divorce,â he says, his head resting on your lap, eyes distant as they fixate on the peeling wallpaper. âYou need to do something about that.â
âIâll take care of it next month.â
Heâs supposed to be the one supporting you, but it feels like the roles are reversedâyouâre comforting him, letting him vent.
âMy two favorite people now canât even be in the same room. What are we gonna do for Christmas? New Year's Eve?â Straightening up, he grabs the nearest cushion and buries his face into it to muffle a defeated scream. âDamn it, Cupid! You had one job!â
All in all, Wadeâs emotionally unavailable at the moment, grieving your separation from Logan as if it were his own loss, too caught up in his melodrama to be of any real help.
Meanwhile, you fill your days with work, books, anything to keep your mind occupied.
You go to bed too late, you wake up too early. Sleep too little, cry too much.
One thing stays constantâyou and Logan donât talk. Stolen glances in the hallway, awkward elevator ridesâthose are the only remnants of whatever you once were. Back to being strangers again.Â
Well, not really. Strangers donât know the route to your mouth the way he does.
The ache lingers every day. Missing him when youâre awake is a common occurrence. At night, as you toss and turn beneath the sheets, he stars in your dreams. You canât recall the last time he wasnât lodged in your thoughts.Â
Where there used to be ideas, creativity, and plots worth scribbling down, thereâs now only Loganâa man destined to problematize your stay on earth.
That fucker again? Donât you ever get tired of talking about someone who you donât even know? Because youâre certainly wearing me out.
And yet, despite all of it, you continue to prioritize someone else. Someone who isnât even here. Clung to the idea of a soulmate, you chose him over Logan.
What did he expect? For you to abandon your principles, your belief in destiny? Itâs who you are. Nearly thirty years of life guided by one belief canât just be discarded like trash.
You liked to separate things into categories: good and bad, right and wrong. A simple method to structure everything, to make sense of your world, and it has worked most of the time.
But now? The limits of those sacred categories look blurred. Your judgment feels unreliable, and you wonder if the choices youâve made lately have been the correct ones.
Each of your decisions seems to be leading you further down a path you canât recognize.Â
Whatâs the goal? Finding your soulmate, the voice in your head mockingly answers for the hundredth time, rolling its imaginary eyes. And where is he?
Youâve shut Logan out, a man whoâs made it clear he has feelings for you, for this elusive person. Isnât it time he steps into the light at long last?
This is what you fear the most: loneliness.
You donât want to be the lone woman who sits by herself in a cafe, drawing pity from waitresses who discuss her solitude. By no means do you wish to be that friend who dispenses wise dating advice, but goes home to an empty bed. You refuse to become the godmother whose hand no one holds when her time comes.
No, this canât be all fate has to offer to you. There must be more. If your life were a book, youâd be flipping through the pages to the last chapter, desperate to see how it ends.
Or, better yet, youâd grab a pen and rewrite it yourself. What kind of ending youâll haveâyouâre not so sure about that.
Itâs Sunday, one of those endless weekends where the only way to survive is by rearranging your entire apartment. You could manage it alone, but help would be niceâWadeâs help, to be more precise, would be perfect for this kind of task, and you find yourself knocking on his door.Â
No answer. Deciding to dial his number to see if heâs fallen asleep, you try calling him, waiting through the rings until he finally picks up. âHey.â
Except itâs not Wadeâs voice that answers. âIâm sorry, who is this?â
The door swings open, and Logan appears right behind it, holding Wadeâs phone to his ear.
He narrows his eyes, leaning against the frame, a single eyebrow lifted in curiosity. âHow sad. You donât remember what I sound like.â
You feel foolish for still being on the call, so you lock your phone, ending it. âWhereâs Wade?â you ask, frowning as you hold your breath, your voice sharper than intended.
âOut and about. Didnât tell me where he was going,â Logan replies, glaring at you as he raises the phone to your face. âHe left without this.â
Abort mission! Nodding in agreement, you begin to step back. âGreat, Iâll look for him later.â
Youâre close to being locked up once again in the safety of your apartment when you hear him: âYou need anything?â
Itâs the most heâs said to you in weeks. You hesitate, keeping your back turned. âIâm moving some heavy stuff around. Thought I could use the help.â
âI could do it.â
No. Not really. Heâs doing that thing againâoffering help when you know you shouldnât accept it. You shake your head.
âItâs not necessary,â you say, forcing a casual tone.
âDoesnât have to mean anything,â he retorts, his footsteps heavy and deliberate as they draw closer. With each passing second, your options shrink, leaving you no room for retreat. âDonât worry. I wonât try to kiss you again if thatâs whatâs got you all worked up.â
âIâm not worked up,â you hiss, and he sidesteps you easily, his arm nudging yours.
The electricity is still there, undeniable, but neither of you has the courage to acknowledge it, acting as though itâs an ordinary occurrence.
His eyes roam the room, like heâs forgotten what your apartment looked like. He pauses by the bookshelf, his fingers gliding over the spine of Jane Eyre, and a low whistle escapes him as he slips it back into place.Â
You, frozen at the threshold, feel your irritation simmering just beneath the surface, and the urge to hide in your bedroom only becomes stronger.
After this, youâll have to burn your favorite book. What a pity.
âWhat do you want me to do?â he asks, hooking his fingers into the loops of his jeans, his posture both confident and annoyingly relaxed.
Thereâs a challenge in his tone, and he acts as if youâre the one who pulled him into this situationâlike he didnât worm his way in here.
You gesture toward the couch. âCan you put it by the window?â
He sets to work, moving the smaller pieces of furniture aside to make space for the couch. Under no circumstances are you going to just stand there and watch him sweat.
Instead, you busy yourself with the long-forgotten glasses and cups gathering dust in one of the kitchen cabinets, each one glinting with past disappointments.
Wetting a towel, you start by wiping the rims. The air feels heavily charged with uneasiness, but you're relieved that for once, you can breathe without feeling like youâre on the brink of a heart attack.
You can already imagine Wadeâs face when you tell himâ
âSo,â Loganâs voice cuts through the silence, startling you, âhowâs the search going? Got any luck?â
His words have the desired effect on you, and the glass slips from your grasp, shattering against the floor in a crash that mirrors the jump of your heart. You curse under your breath, stepping back from the mess, taking in the shards sprawled around your shoes.
âBe careful,â he says from the other side of the room, still dragging the furniture into place, and you scrutinize him over your shoulder, your brows knitted.
âI donât need your advice,â you murmur through gritted teeth as you crouch to pick up the larger shards. His attention returns to the couch, but you guess heâs not technically thinking how nice of a person you are.
As you kneel, your hands tremble slightly, and you wonder when that started. You fumble for a larger shard of glass, bracing your hand against the floor for balance, unaware of the smaller piece lying dangerously close to your fingers.
The sting comes fast, slicing through the skin of your pinky. You flinch, raising your hand, and Logan, hearing the faint wince, abandons his task and crosses the room to you.
"I donât need your advice," he echoes, mocking your tone as he squats beside you, his hand closing around yours to inspect the wound. "Youâre bleeding."
âBrilliant observation, Sherlock. I hadnât noticedââ The words die in your throat, your eyes widening as you take a closer look at his hand. âWait, why are you bleeding?â
He snorts, diverting his attention to his own hand. âWhat do you mean Iâmââ Whatever it is he intended to shoot back remains unsaid as both of you stare down at the small cut in his pinky.
Driven by instinct, you place your hands side by side, your finger grazing his. The cuts are identical: same place, same width, same depth. The only difference is his vanishes within seconds, leaving only a few droplets of crimson blood as evidence.
Logan couldnât have cut himself. He was nowhere near the glass. âAre youâŠ?â You swallow thickly, trying to string together a coherent thought, dizziness making its triumphant appearance. âAre you thinking what Iâm thinking?â
âYes.â
âAnd what is thatââ
âI need a drink.â
âCan you stop acting like a dick for one second?â You peer into his glossy eyes, watching him try to avoid your gaze, though he canât seem to resist. âPlease, Logan. Look at me.â
When he does, his mouth parts as if to speak, then closes again. âI donât understand. I thought I didnât have a soulmate.â His gruff tone slows even further, like he's straining to push the words from his lungs. âI thoughtâI thought I was alone.â
It explains so much: how your scars had reappeared once he and Wade returned from The Void.Â
The instant attraction, the yearning to be near him.
The dread that washed over you each time he walked away.
The dreams that plagued your nights, and the tightness in your chest these past few weeks that made you wonder if you could ever coexist in the same space as him without breaking apart.
All those times you felt he was getting closer werenât just a figment of your imaginationâhe was, in fact, right there.
But he wasnât just anyoneâit was him. Logan is your soulmate. You two are meant to be together. How long would it take for you to truly believe it? Until it no longer sounded like something too good to be true?
Without uttering a sound, Logan gazes at you, silently pleading to see them. To see your scars. You extend your arm, and with a gentle motion, he rolls up the sleeve of your shirt, revealing the marks etched into your skin.
He runs his fingers along the lines, trying to understand the bond you now shareâboth his and yours.
In a sense, youâre his. You carry his scars, the physical manifestation of the life he has lived. Even though he may not bear any of his own, you do, and thatâs more than enough.
He belongs to you just as much as you belong to him.
âThere are more,â you tell him. your voice barely above a whisper. He stands, offering you his hand, and you take it, rising to your feet. Logan inches closer, his mouth hovering just above yours, his large hand coming up to cup your cheek.
The look he gives you is one reserved for those he loves, a look filled with such warmth and affection that it almost feels dreamlike.
âDo you want me to see them?â he inquires, and all he needs is a nod from you to gently tug your shirt up your chest and over your head.
He lets out a dry chuckle when you attempt to tame your hair, the effort proving to be in vain. The clock on the wall seems to pause its ticking the moment his fingers begin to trail each of the scars that captures his gaze.
You canât even begin to fathom what thoughts might be swirling in his mind, but if the flicker of lust and desire you catch in his expression is anything to go by, youâre not so worried.
Loganâs touch carries an unexpected softness, a tenderness you never imagined a man like him could possess.
Deep down, you wish he understood that these scars donât hurt, that they never have. âIâm okay,â you reassure him, prompting him to explore more of your skin, to claim you as his.
âDo you⊠like them?â he asks without meeting your eyes.
Do you like my scars? is the real question hidden underneath.
Do you like me? is the one he canât bring himself to pronounce.
âTheyâre yours. I could never not like them.âÂ
Before you stands a man you once believed was meant to be your burden, your trial. Logan had been the earthquake sent to test your endurance, to see how much you could withstand before surrendering and waving the white flag.
The same fingers that once imprinted his mark on you now linger on the strap of your bra, waiting for you to decide whether to let him go further or stop.
Desire has a limit before it overwhelms. Thereâs only so much need a person can contain before it spills over, uncontrollable and raw.
This game, one you never learned how to play, feels as foreign to him as it does to youâneither of you knows the rules.
âCan I see more?â Heâs still talking about the scars, still fumbling with the strap, and you nod, your eyelids growing droopier as you take his free hand and direct it to the front of your jeans.
He catches the hint, undoing the button with ease, allowing you to shed the last layers of restraint.
Bare, moments away from being completely naked, standing in stark contrast to Logan, who remains fully clothed, your stomach does a flip as he rubs his thumb along the sides of your underwear.
Leaning your forehead against his shoulder, you stifle a sigh when he splays his hand across your lower back, pulling you closer.
His rough grip tightens on your ass, testing the feel of you, while your breathing becomes shallow, erratic.
âWhat is it, honey?â He slides his fingers your stomach, just below your belly button, brushing a small scar in there. âWant me to touch you?â
âYes,â you croak, the plea slipping out involuntarily, throwing your arms around his neck. He buries his face against your jaw, his lips parting against your skin, trailing open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your neck.
You tilt your head back, exposing more of your throat to him, breathless as you whisper: âIâve waited so long.â
He moves toward the couch, and you follow, trying to anticipate what heâs got planned for you. âI know, baby. I know. Youâve waited long enough.â Guiding your body down, he has you lying horizontally on the sofa. He unhooks your bra, kneading your breasts with both hands, eliciting a ragged gasp from you. âBut Iâm here now. You donât have to wait any longer,â he huffs by your ear, rolling your nipples between his fingers, his breath mingling with yours, each exhale warm and inviting. âGonna let me make you feel good? Show you how much Iâve been thinkinâ about you?â
Instead of answering with real words, you surge forward, crashing your lips against with his, reveling in the way he cages you with his biceps, locking you up in a prison of desire from which you never wish to break free. He tries not to settle his full weight on top of you, attentive not to crush you.
As he nips at the column of your throat, you squirm beneath him, canting your hips up to seek the friction you crave.
He presses his knee against your center and you push back, grinding against him with an animalistic urgency.
You canât recall ever feeling this desperate, this overwhelmed by a man. But then again, heâs unlike any other youâve encountered in your array of momentary hookups.
His kisses grow even more insistent as breathy moans roll off to your tongue, merging with the occasional creak of the couch beneath your movements.
Logan spreads your thighs wider, sinking to his knees on the floor to tug your lower half forward until your ass is almost hanging in the air. He places your thighs on his shoulders, supporting you as he leans in to pepper your soft flesh with kisses.
One can be certain that heâs marking your inner thighs with a hickey or two, the scratch of his beard feeling magnificent against your sensitive skin, and you can hardly bring yourself to think about the potential burn heâll leave behind. Logan inhales your scent, the tip of his nose dangerously close to your cunt, and you tangle a hand in his hair as he continues to test your patience.
âEager?â he wonders aloud, looking at you through his lashes. While maintaining eye contact, he presses a kiss to your clit through the fabric of your panties.
He does it again, and you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood, his fingers deftly pulling your underwear down your legs.
The first drag of his tongue along your folds has you scrunching your eyebrows in pleasure, tightening your grip on his hair. Logan moans against you, the sound muffled as he dips the tip of his tongue into your entrance, lapping at your arousal with an insatiable hunger.
The way you purr his nameâa soft caress, a pat on his back that says Yeah, youâre doing fineâonly spurs him on, infusing every one of his ministrations with fervor.
His longing for you radiates in the intensity of his touch, sending shivers through you, making you writhe because of his hands alone.
Your core throbs. Your skin prickles with electricity. Your legs quake on either side of his face. Heâs hungry and youâre his feast. Heâs parched and youâre the last bottle of water in an arid world.
Logan eats you out like this will be the only time heâll have the privilegeâeach movement calculated, pushing all the right buttons, pulling out every trick he knows to make you think No, it doesnât get any better than this. This is as much as one can get.
Then his fingers join the symphony of pleasure, pumping in and out of you as he keeps flicking your clit with expert precision, and your back arches from the couch, following his pace with your hips. He pushes back, you push forwardâhe pushes forward, you push back.
Who is enjoying this more: him or you?
His pointed tongue teases your bud, matched with the persistent hammering of his fingers plunged into your wet heat. The combination has you coming on his mouth, falling over the precipice while you struggle to keep yourself together.
Your walls flutter around his digits, and your cries fuse with his groans, both overshadowed by his insatiable desire to savor until the last drop of your release.
Shockwaves ripple through your body and you prop your weight on your arms to capture his lips in a fervent kiss, your eyes rolling rolling back in ecstasy as you taste yourself, a mix of sour and sweet.
In a frenzy, he sheds his clothes, practically tearing them away, and you wrap your hand around his length, stroking him in time with your kisses. Logan pulls back, panting against you, and you steal a glance at him.
Your gaze travels down to his hard cock, the tip a furious red, and he seizes your wrist.
âWhy donât you kiss it better?â he rasps, his voice dropping an octave. In this moment, youâre taken aback by his beauty, and the urge to express it rises within you.
âYouâre so beautiful,â you murmur against his thigh, showering his skin with heated kisses. You stare in disbelief at the trail of hair leading to his girth, mouth watering at the sight.
A kiss on the tip, followed by a broad lick along a prominent veinâLoganâs grip on the armrest tightens, his knuckles turning white. âSo perfect.â
âShut up,â he retorts breathlessly, but you revel in the strangled noise that escapes him as you take him deeper, his head disappearing between your lips. His palm rests on your nape, anchoring you in place. âGoddammit. The fuckinââmouth you have on you.â
You try to take him in further once youâre feeling more confident, while Logan fights with all his might against the need to thrust his hips up into your warmth. He canât stay still, grunting and smothering you with lavish praise that heightens your arousal, slick pouring out of you in waves.
âPretty thing you are. Donât even know how to function around you. You got me allâfuck, actinâ all stupid.â
At one point, he tells you to stop, because he doesnât want to come just yet. You know what comes next as he rubs his cock along your folds, blending your wetness with his precum.
Itâs sloppy, and dirty, and messyâand God, do you love it.
He sinks into you and the world collides in a way you never expected. Everything you thought you knew falls apart, leaving you stranded in unfamiliar territory.
You canât comprehend how youâve spent so many years without him. Without this.
Your lips find his, and he swallows every sound he punches out of your lungs. His thrusts grow harder and faster as you adjust to his size, how big he feels inside you.
He digs his fingers into the globes of your ass, yanking you towards his shaft every time he fucks into you. You feel the brush of his balls against your skin, the way his muscles flex beneath your touch.
To this day, itâs still hard for you to wrap your head around the fact that love is what humans both strive and die for.
You come to understand it fully as his eyes flicker to yours, checking for any signs of discomfort in your features.
You understand why people write books and songs about love when he breathes your name in the shell of your ear, chanting how good youâre taking him, how tight and wet you are for him.
You understand the place love occupies in your life as the sound of your bodies slapping together creates a melody which has never been played before.
You understand why youâve searched for this your entire life, lifting every carpet in hopes of uncovering the love youâve pined for.
In the past, it had always felt like a raceâfinding your soulmate before the clock struck twelve. Now that you have him, you wonder what the future holds for you, how this connection will evolve.
For now, you can allow yourself the possibility of relishing the drag of his cock in your interior. His pace doesnât falter for a secondâsomething about mutants and their non-stop stamina, no doubt. He shoves a hand between your sweaty bodies, rubbing circles on your already swollen bud.
Each time he fills you to the brim, you have to ground yourself, resisting the pull of an altered reality.
âSo full,â you blurt out, mewling with a specially hard thrust, a chocked sob lodged in your throat. âPlease, stay.â
It could mean many things: Please, keep fucking me. Please, donât leave after this. Please, remain by my side form this moment onward, because I donât know how to go on with my life now that Iâve experienced this closeness.
Whatever meaning he ascribes to your words is of little importance. He tightens his arms around you, kissing you deeply, tongue and teeth clashing as they compete to see who wins the battle. âNever. Iâm never lettinâ you go, yâhear me?â
Heat pools in your lower back, a coiling tension radiating through your limbs. âYouâre mine, princess. Canât afford to lose you now that I found you. Gonna remind you every day.â
His rambling pushes you over the edge, your dripping cunt spasming around him as you reach your climax, moaning his name against his shoulder. You cling to him, convulsing beneath his body, and he grinds his hips into yours, his chest rumbling as he growls.
âInside,â you mumble, extending your hand to press it to his waist. âNeed you inside me. Please, I want it so bad.â
Logan stutters against you, his forehead falling against your collarbone as he finishes with one powerful thrust, his cock pulsing warm ropes of come within your cunt. You clench around him, whining as he prolongs both your pleasure and his, milking the last drop of his seed. His voice is a constant murmur, filling every space in the room until he slumps against you.
Night has fallen. The cut on your pinky no longer stings. Your scars, after all, are still there, nestled against Loganâs unmarked skin. You caress his back, sighing contentedly as a wave of peace washes over you.
Youâve never felt this relaxed.
Logan grasps your chin and tilts it up, a subtle smirk tugging at his lips. âHey,â he mutters, his gaze roaming all over your face.
You cup his cheek, his rough stubble grazing your palm. âHey, stranger. Long time no see.â
A genuine laugh pierces through the silence. the kind he rarely allows himself. Crinkles form at the corners of his eyes, his brow furrowing as he glances at you with love.
Loveâhadnât you pondered its existence for so long? Your fuel for living, the muse behind your best poems, a recurring motif in your fantasies.
Love now has Loganâs name written in ink, no longer a blank canvas awaiting its unknown owner. Noâitâs all his now.
Youâd do it all over again if it meant ending up like this, tangled and intertwined, with the promise of a future together. He has many stories to shareâabout his past universe, about himself. You have secrets to unveil, too. Thereâs so much you both have yet to discover about each other.
But time isnât up. This isnât a race, you remind yourself: things are just getting started.
Everywhere you go, every place you attempt to set foot in, there it is. Love is dressed up in an expensive silk robe, a ribbon tied neatly on top of it. You reach closer, trying to unravel it, though it's pointless. The moment love sees youâtruly sees your longing for itâit flees, and you struggle to keep up. Love runs faster than anyone, hiding within the bushes, counting the seconds until its next appearance.
Finally, youâve wrapped love around your finger.
dividers by: @cafekitsune thank you!!! <3
#logan howlett#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#wolverine#wolverine x you#wolverine x reader#logan howlett x fem!reader#logan howlett xmen#logan howlett fic#logan howlett smut#logan howlett fanfiction#logan james howlett#james howlett#wolverine angst#wolverine fic#wolverine fanfiction#deadpool and wolverine#wade wilson#logan x reader#logan x you#logan xmen#wolverine xmen#wolverine x y/n#the worst logan x reader#the worst wolverine#worst wolverine#logan howlett x f!reader#james logan howlett#deadpool 3#the wolverine x reader
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Facts about in-game Yuu (Twisted Wonderland):
NOTES:
This is an ongoing list and will be updated with new information. I'm not caught up w/ chap 6 and I'm not very perceptive. This list is so long because of all the people who commented/sent asks, so thank you Last but not least, some of these might be a stretch/be slightly incorrect so bare w/ me plz :] More Yuu facts [ ONE / TWO ] <- not mine
They've been good friends with Heartslabyul ever since Book 1.
They're forgiving/don't hold any bad blood with the people who've overblotted (at least on the outside).
According to the Harveston event, they can play the flute.
They don't like mentioning that they might return to their world (Deuce's Wishing Star vignette).
Many people consider them a "goody-two-shoes" (Leona, Ruggie).
A good listener.
Based on Malleus' interactions with them, Yuu talks to him a lot more off-screen as he states that he values their opinions.
Loves Grim to hell and back.
It's implied that Yuu invites Malleus over frequently enough that he visits unprompted.
They can be snarky and brutally honest when they're pushed into it.
Comes up with stupid plans that nobody believes will work but it somehow does.
They're insecure about not having any magic.
They want to be able to help their friends.
Has a sense of self-preservation.
Does not actively seek out danger (*cough* om mc *cough*).
They've cleaned up Ramshackle since living there, however, it still looks "abandoned & ancient" on the outside.
Crowley doesn't give them more money than "needed".
Silver states that Yuu is good with swords (PE Uniform).
Both Jamil and Silver seem to think that Yuu is somewhat weird/strange.
They don't know much about mushrooms (Floyd's Camp Vargas vignette).
They're very patient.
Used to be afraid of ghosts until they got to Twisted Wonderland.
They adapt to new/difficult situations quickly and calmly.
They don't complain much.
Very much so the silent type.
The audience doesn't really see anyone helping them out with their situation, so I assume they fix most of their problems themselves.
They don't have any memories of the Great Seven before coming to Twisted Wonderland.
Fluctuates between being observant and not noticing really basic stuff.
Doesn't hesitate to say cheesy things.
Keeps calm in harsh situations.
They know how to play a blowing horn (White Rabbit Event).
Good with instruments.
Not a very good singer (NRC Uniform).
It's implied that they have high stamina.
They're interested in horseback riding and wants to play soccer with Sebek (PE Uniform).
They recommend a few books to Sebek, implying that they read in their free time.
They're short in comparison to Floyd (he calls them Shrimpy).
Grim comments that they're shorter than Vil.
Crowley mumbles that Yuu looks effeminate.
They're a bit of a romantic since they seem to often ask about love stories/fairy tales (Epel & Jade chats).
They have a habit of poking, tugging, tickling and just touching people in general. This is proven through the Home Screen character interactions, so their love language seems to be physical touch.
They get scared easily but is bad at scaring others (Halloween voice lines).
Vil notes that their uniform is baggy.
Malleus says that Yuu has gotten better at dancing (Masquerade Event).
It's implied that Yuu is good/decent at cooking since they have to make meals for both themself and Grim every day.
Yuu is decent at basketball (Ace Halloween).
Deuce remarks about a tiny piece of furniture in Ramshackle and asks if it's for Grim, meaning Yuu makes small furniture for him.
They're a good photographer.
Takes part in photography competitions (Rook Port Fest).
It's implied that Yuu carries their ghost camera everywhere because Crowley constantly makes them record events.
It's said that the game cards are actual photos that Yuu took with the ghost camera. [I don't know if this is true but a lot of people have said so]
Most, if not all the characters tell Yuu to hurry up when choosing a class, which suggests that they're indecisive.
Ace, Deuce and Cater tell Yuu to relax during classes or else they'll run out of energy.
Jack says that he got tips from Yuu while he was working in Monstro Lounge, implying that Yuu might've worked in customer service before (Book 3).
According to Grim, they have a hard time saying no to people, but when they absolutely need to-- they're very serious and a bit intimidating. "You're a real sap sometimes, you know that? Then again, when you bare your teeth it's no joke."
While they won't say no to helping others, they prefer to keep to themselves and avoid drama.
Yuu is sometimes a bit distrustful of Ace and thinks he's tricking them if he offers to do anything nice (2024 Player Birthday Greetings).
It doesn't take much to make them happy. (Deuce & Idia 2024 Player Birthday Greetings).
They became nervous when Riddle invited them to a salon for their birthday. Riddle response saying "I'll be right there with you, and will instruct you in etiquette every step of the way."
They're competitive in class-- at least when it comes to Jack (2024 Player Birthday Greetings).
They took chess lessons to try and beat Leona in a match (2024 Player Birthday Greetings).
For their birthday, Yuu asks Azul to get something that's supposedly hard for an average collector to acquire.
They're surprised when Kalim gifts them a pop-up card for their birthday.
They own a pair of fingerless gloves (gifted by Epel).
They personally invited Vil over for their birthday party and made sure to have healthy food options for him.
Not very close with Idia.
Owns a glass tumbler that reads 'Happy Birthday!' (gifted by Ortho).
Lilia gives them a CD with his screamo performances.
They were gifted so many presents on their birthday that they had trouble carrying the gifts around. (Malleus 2024 Player Birthday Greetings).
#twst#twisted wonderland#twst wonderland#twst disney#disney twst#twst yuu#twst mc#twst x reader#twst x yuu#twst x you#twst fluff#twst angst#twst fanfic#twst imagines#twst hcs#twst headcanons#twisted wonderland imagines#twisted wonderland x reader#twst crack#twst incorrect quotes
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Snitches the cat and his favorite bat
I wrote up dpxdc fics based off of prompts I happened to see in the last day to add to the reading pile for anyone who didn't prep for the archive down time today.
EDIT
The idea for Danny as a cat came from @shycorvid, thank you so much for correcting me and letting me play in your sandbox!
Snitches the cat comes from @garbagewith-a-cherryontop (I think??? I couldn't find a definite first post!) but the fantastic linked post is the one with how I think Snitches the cat looks here.
Word count is 1053.
Tumblr reference
masterpost for my AO3 downtime fics
âUgh- that's not- did we just summon a demon cat?â
âIt's so messed up looking. Ew.â
Danny blinked and swayed on his feet. He'd had a tail a minute ago, speeding across the GZ to check in on Walker. There had been an unpleasant lurch in his stomach. And now he was on his feet. All four of them.
Wait, what?
âYou fucked this up.â
His ears twitched at the sound of a slap. Danny swiveled towards the sound and then got distracted by the feeling of his ears swiveling back. Whaaaaat?
He looked down at his precious little feeties. They were adorable paws.
âOh, you motherfuckers,â he said. It came out as a conversational yowl.
The humans looked at him from about ten feet away and five feet up. âAnnoyingâŠâ
He was pretty sure they were high schoolers. There were five of them, two girls and three boys. They were all bigger than him. High schoolers were usually bigger than he was, but this was just ridiculous.
âCount yourself lucky, dimwits,â one of the older kids said. He took a step towards Danny. Danny pressed his ears flat against his head and hissed at the approach. âIf you managed to sacrifice Patches to a demon, your Mom would straight up murder you.â He laughed when he said it, like anything about that was remotely funny.
Uh- what now?
Only now, Danny noticed a very distressed calico cat underneath a laundry basket on the other side of the room. There was a stack of textbooks weighing the basket down. A large rug had been rolled up and- he sneezed rapidly, eyes watering. Chalk! They'd drawn on the floor with chalk!
âThis is some incompetent summoning,â Danny realized, way too late. âDid they- how did they turn me into a cat?â He looked at his unfortunate brethren under the laundry basket. Her ears were flat against her skull and she looked scared.
He remembered the word âsacrificeâ and his blood flushed hit with fury. They'd wanted him to eat her! They'd wanted something to eat miss Patches!
The teenagers froze and looked at him, aghast at the angry sounds that were coming out of his throat.
âShut up!â One hissed. She took off her shoe and threw it at him. Danny dodged and then threw his head back to yowl even louder. Sonic attack! Aural damage, you big jerks!
âThe neighbors are going to- make it shut up!â
Danny had to run, dashing over furniture and tearing his way across a crowded table to avoid being grabbed. He screamed the whole time, eager to alert whoever they were so afraid of. Someone should see!
The window burst in.
Danny stopped running, shocked. He hadn't actually expected-
Someone snatched him up from behind and smacked him on the face with a palm. His jaw exploded with pain. It cut off his yowling.
Stunned. He was still for a moment and then he struggled for his life. The grip on his ribs was way too tight-
He looked over at the sound of a sword being pulled from a sheath. Holy shit, that was bomb as hell. His eyes went wide at the sight of a heavily armored small child crouched on the windowsill. The boy's eyes were covered, but Danny could still see him look at Danny and the poor calico under the laundry basket. He sneered.
âUnhand the cat or lose your hands at the wrist, you wretch.â
Danny loved him.
The teenager dropped him. Danny caught himself with a stumble. He let out a sad mraow before he could stop himself.
Fight club baby was enraged. âWhat have you done to this animal?â He hopped down into the room, revealing he was at least a foot shorter than the smallest girl in the room.
Danny trotted to him and started winding around his ankles admiringly. What a good kid! He purred.
âI will be taking both of your cats with me. If you ever harm an animal again, it will be your head that is found in a chalk-â
âRobin.â A hugeass grown man squeezed himself through the window that the kid had broken. Danny craned his head up, up, up, to see him case the joint.
The older man radiated incredible judgment. âI see that you require education on animal welfare and demonic summoning. Go on, Robin.â
âThat's my Mom's cat!â One of the teenagers protested. âYou can't take her!â
Robin growled at her. Danny jumped in his skin at the sound.
âThen we shall return it to your Mother and her alone, when we explain what you've done.â Danny let murder baby scoop him up and purred at full volume. Hell yeah. He looked at the cowering teenagers with condescension.
âNot that fugly thing.â
Danny blinked. He ended up making an inquisitive mraow. Why was a finger being pointed at him? He was baby.
âThat thing showed up, you can get rid of it. But Patches is Mom's cat, and you can't steal a cat because-â
âBatman can steal any cat!â Robin bit out, gathered up Patches, and jumped out the window with both cats in an expert grip.
That didn't sound right, but Danny just enjoyed the night air as a line pulled Robin up to where yet another masked vigilante was waiting, cackling himself to tears.
âBatman can steal any cat,â he wheezed. âBrilliant. Good detour, Robin. Can I hold one?â He held out his blue-striped palms expectantly.
He faltered when he saw Danny, visibly surprised.
Danny⊠was starting to feel bad. He curled into Robin, hurt. He wasn't ugly. Why did people keep reacting to him weird?
âNo,â Robin said curtly. âYou have damaged his pride, and Patches is still reeling from her shock.â
The man let out a sigh but let the topic go. âThat's Patches, and this isâŠ?â
Robin hesitated. âHe is the Snitch.â
That unlocked cooing. âSnitches? Snitchy Snitch Sni- ow!â
Danny snapped at the hand that came way too close and he let out a warning growl. No baby talk!
Robin seemed very pleased. He rubbed behind Danny's ears. âSnitch⊠I suppose that Snitches will suffice. We are taking him home.â
â....Maybe, just for fun, we should take him to get treated for mange first!â The guy made jazz hands to go with his statement.
Robin and Danny both growled that time.
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chapter three is now posted!
Title: Four Walls
Tags: Slow burn, domesticity friends to lovers, smut, pining, post sias/pre am era
Summary: Disillusioned with LA and on the heels of a breakup, Alex goes to stay with Miles in London.
#adding the link here too for continuity (and shameless self promotion lol)#thank you so so much to everyone who took the time to leave a comment yesterday đ#iâve been having a really rough week and idk how to put into words how much hearing peopleâs enthusiasm about my little fic has boosted me#youâre all just my absolute favourites#anyway iâll stop rambling now and go and get on with writing the next one lol#if you want to make my day then please feel free to let me know what you think of this one!#đ#i always adore hearing all the different things people pick up on as they read#sometimes itâs stuff i havenât even consciously noticed myself and then someone points it out in a comment and i go OH#genuinely there are quite a few times where thatâs happened and itâs really helped me with writing more on that theme#basically what iâm saying is that half the time you lot seem to have a better grasp of what iâm trying to say than i do đ#like it can all feel quite hazy and nebulous when iâm writing#and then someone will pull something out of it after reading that just makes it crystal clear#god iâve gone on a full blown ramble here#probably none of this is even remotely coherent because iâm stupidly sleep deprived rn#right#actually going to stop now and go and write#my condolences to anyone whoâs read through the entirety of this ramble
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Helloooo! I was wondering if you are taking requests for Wind Breaker?
If yes, can I ask for a story or headcanons about Suo meeting and getting curious (and eventually falling for) a f.reader who is like a princess for Shishitoren?
In my head it would be funny to see Suo challenging and interacting with Choji and Togame (who are already threatening Suo to stay away from the reader). I mean, he can be kind of mean when he wants, and still wear a smile.đ
Thanks for hearing me out!
And let me say, I realllyyyy love the way you write!đ©·
Shishitoren's Princess (& Her Guard Dog) | Hayato Suo x Reader
Word Count: 7471
àšà§ Read me before interacting!
àšà§ Pairing: Hayato Suo x Reader feat. Shishitoren (literally most of them), Jo Togame, Choji Tomiyama, Mitsuki Kiryu, Haruka Sakura, Akihiko Nire
àšà§ Warnings: mdni, f!reader, manga spoilers, ooc (definitely ooc sorry ah), angst, harassment, swearing, kissing, miscommunication â if Iâve missed one, I apologize + please let me know!
àšà§ Note: oh my goodness â I'm actually so sorry for how this took me (and how long this is à«źê°â Ë â àŸàœČê±á). I loved loved loved this idea so much, and thank you for the sweetest words! I really hope this is somewhere in the ballpark of what you were requesting! Thank you again for the amazing idea! I love you!
You hadnât meant to cross over to their territory â truly. Itâs just that Togame had mentioned that his favorite Ramune flavor had been out since last night, and Tomiyama had been going on and on about this new snack that just wasnât available at the usual corner store that you guys frequented, so you found yourself with a mission on your mind and your wallet in your hand.
Pretty, perfect, caring adorable you. With a smile that could heal any scratch and a heart that seemed to never run empty. You were the pride and joy of Shishitoren â their mascot in every sense.Â
You knew everyone by name. If someone asked, you could name at least 5 things about each person from the top of your head. You could name their allergies, their likes and dislikes, and even their interests â all because you listened to them.
You were attentive and warm â quick to lend an ear if someone was having a bad day or offer advice if they asked.
And it was scary how well you could tell if they were in the dumps â it becomes a running joke that you have some kind of emotional superpower when it comes to them. It takes just one look, one look before youâre bringing them to a secluded corner and asking them if theyâve got something weighing on their minds.
You knew their personalities, knew their stories, knew their hearts.Â
The only time anyone avoided you was when they knew they did something wrong â because they knew youâd be pulling them by the ear and scolding them. And, as much as some of them wanted to get mad, they just couldnât bring themselves to â because having someone care for them so fiercely was a feeling that not many of them had ever experienced, and from the bottom of your heart you truly cared.
After every fight, they knew youâd be the one to patch them up. Bofurin had the townspeople, sure, but Shishitoren had you. You, who would set up tables in the Ori with every inch of space taken up by ointments, antiseptic spray, gauze â the works. Whatever injury they had, as long as not severe, was taken care of by you.Â
If it was serious and required hospital attention, you were the one bringing them there â eyes sharp and tongue at the ready to yell at anyone who dared to treat them differently or deny services.
And these boys ⊠they had the utmost respect for you. You, who had nothing but love to give, never expected a single thing back. You cared for them, genuinely, and saw them as your own brothers to fuss over and worry about and love.Â
You were family â and honestly, Togame and Tomiyama were just glad to have met you after their fight with Bofurin.Â
Youâd moved to this side of town just a little after the whole thing, and when youâd gotten lost in the dark alleys with your phone on 1% and tears in your eyes, it was Tomiyama who walked you home. Heâd talked your ear off the whole way, of course, but he was surprised at how you were able to keep up with him. You were actively responding to him, asking questions, keeping the conversation going â and Tomiyama liked that.Â
And when youâre delivered safely to your front door, you ask if you can exchange contact info. His eyes light up, and heâs quickly saying yes and that heâd love to hang out with you again.
He doesnât expect you to reach out to him the next day though, asking if you can give him a thank-you present for going out of his way the day before.Â
And when you show up to the Ori, with a bag of assorted goodies in your hands, youâre met with more men than you could count, all with eyes staring wide at you.
They expect you to run away, honestly, because they know what they look like. They know that youâre probably a sweet girl, sure, but they were a gang â plain and simple. A gang working on reform, sure, but a gang nonetheless. So, if you were to drop your little goodie bag in fear and run for your life, well, it would probably be the most appropriate response.
Instead, what you do is gasp, point an accusatory finger at Tomiyama, and exclaim, âWHY didnât you tell me that there would be more people here?â
You quickly hand him the bag, muttering out an âIâll be backâ, and in less than 30 minutes youâve got your hands full with 5 more bags, packed to the brim with even more snacks.
With Togame, it takes just a little bit longer for him to warm up to you. Not that he doesnât already like you â itâs just that heâs, well, a bit more reserved and a bit more quiet and observing (a lot more quiet if weâre comparing him to Tomiyama).Â
Itâs when, during a fleeting conversation, he mentions that he plays Go with the elderly men at the public bath â and he watches you perk up at his words. Immediately, youâre asking if it would be alright to play with him sometime, and while heâs hesitant, he ultimately says yes at the sight of your bright eyes and wide smile.
He admits that he thinks youâre just bluffing, until you actually plan a day to play, and now youâve got him thinking that maybe youâre good? Maybe, youâre a secret Go prodigy or something? Maybe youâve got a secret or two up your sleeve and â
He wipes the floor with you. Absolutely demolishes you. But youâre happy about it, laughing at the result, and heâs confused because you didnât win? Did you ⊠did you know how board games work?
Youâre quick to tell him that you enjoyed it because you got to spend time with him, got to know who he is as a person because of how he played.Â
You leave him standing on the street, a bottle of Ramune long forgotten in his hand (his prize for winning) and his mouth open in surprise.
And when you notice heâs not next to you anymore, you turn around with a smile on your face as you ask, âDonât you feel that you know me a little bit better too?â
Yeah, they were glad that you got to see them as they were now, with hopes and dreams and emotions. They donât dwell on the idea of you meeting them before then â they donât want to. Because if they thought about it too long, theyâd have their answer.
You deserved to be happy and healthy and protected. You, who filled a hole in Shishitoren that they didnât even know existed.Â
And now you were an irreplaceable part of their lives, so precious and so important that they began to understand Bofurin. They had you â someone that they would do anything in their power to protect â to keep safe from harm.
You were Shishitorenâs Princess.
After that, Tomiyama and Togame were stuck to you like glue. Always thinking about you, always concerned, always wondering where you were.Â
Youâre running late and they havenât got a text letting them know why? Theyâre out on the streets, danger flashing in their eyes and prepared for the worst. However, when they see that youâve been distracted by a stray cat on the road, all they do is let out a laugh and join your side.Â
They hear you sniffling and see that your eyes are shining with tears? Theyâre immediately on you, asking who did this to you, with a promise to make them pay for it tenfold. âYou canât really beat up allergies,â you laugh, before sneezing into a tissue. Immediately, the Shishitoren boys are rounded up, their eyes focused and determined â to get you allergy medicine.
You were everything good in the world, bottled up into someone who could make even the rainiest days seem a bit more brighter and the hardest challenges a bit more bearable â and they didnât want anyone infringing on their happiness.
So when Hayato Suo, from Bofurin, comes across you one fateful day â theyâre absolutely livid.Â
You hadnât meant to cross over to their territory â truly. Itâs just that Togame had mentioned that his favorite Ramune flavor had been out since last night, and Tomiyama had been going on and on about this new snack that just wasnât available at the usual corner store that you guys frequented, so you found yourself with a mission on your mind and your wallet in your hand.
And honestly, you loved them, you did, but the way that they treated you like a delicate little flower sometimes felt a bit too stuffy.
What? Did they think you just patched people up for fun? That you knew how to medically treat someone just short of a nurse because it was your hobby?
Youâre too absorbed in your thoughts to realize where the directions on your phone are taking you until youâve already passed the train crossing border that connects Bofurinâs and Shishitorenâs territory. Youâre spit out onto a street that youâve never seen before, but you shrug it off.
When you find the corner store, you make quick work of your shopping list, even grabbing some items for yourself, before youâre out the door.
Itâs when youâve barely taken a few steps down the street that you feel it â the staring on the back of your head.
While you were in the store, youâd felt their eyes on you, but youâd ignored it, hoping that it was just a fleeting moment of curiosity. Now, you see that it was the eyes of a predator stalking their prey.
You pause, before quickly taking out your phone and sending a quick text to Togame and Tomiyama â they just need one small clue and they can fill in the rest â so you send your location.Â
And when you finally turn to face your stalker, you snap a photo of their face. For insurance, you assure yourself. Just in case.Â
Heâs taller than you, with a smirk on his face and his hands in his pockets. You feel uneasy at his presence, and you look up and down the street to see that no oneâs around.
Damnit damnit damnit.Â
âYouâre really pretty, totally my type. Could I get your contact information?â heâs asking, but the tone that heâs saying it in doesnât leave any room for objection.
âNo,â you reply, simple and straight to the point. Then, you stay standing there, and you wait.Â
âNever turn your back on an enemy.â
Togame had said this briefly, once, while the both of you were watching everyone spar.
When the man takes a step forward, you take one back, maintaining the distance between you and him.
âOh come on â itâs just your number. Donât make this such a big deal.â
Heâs holding himself back and you can see it. You can see the way his hands are twitching by his sides now and the way his breathing is starting to speed up.
âAlways keep an eye on your opponent~! You wouldnât wanna miss anything!â
Tomiyamaâs words run through your mind next, and you will yourself to maintain your facade.
Youâre starting to get just the slightest bit worried now, though. It really shouldnât be too much longer, you think. Any minute now.Â
But a minute passes by, Togame and Choji arenât here, and the guyâs got his hand wrapped around your wrist so tightly that itâs starting to throb.
âPlease â leave me alone!â you yell out, but itâs going through one ear and out the other. Heâs smiling down, dark and sinister, and itâs then that you remember something so crucial that you canât believe you forgot it.
âKick them, um, down there. Itâll hurt, a lot. But thatâs a last resort type of move, alright princess?â
Those self-defense lessons are paying off, Togame.Â
You make a mental note to thank him when he gets here.
You kick the man, hard, and when he releases your arm you step back as fast as you can, but âÂ
The plastic bag you had once held in your hand, now filled with the sloshing liquid and the broken glass of Togameâs Ramune bottle, causes you to slip.
Your hands shoot out and you close your eyes in anticipation of the fall that never comes because strong, warm arms are holding you up.
You let out a sigh of relief â finally. Youâre brought to stand, but before those hands can leave your body, youâre swiftly grabbing them to wrap around your waist and leaning your head on their chest.
âGeez, took you guys long enough ââ
The sight of a black jacket cuts you off. Black, with green embroidery.
You quickly push yourself off, eyes wide and cheeks red because you had just initiated a very intimate hug with someone who was a complete stranger.
âI-Iâm so sorry! Oh my gosh â I thought you were someone else!â you blurt out, hands covering your mouth â and he looks as caught off guard as you are.
His eye is wide, mouth open just the tiniest bit, and â heâs cute.
âWow, I donât get thanked like that too often,â he smiles, and youâre mortified at his playful reaction.
âI â,â You open your mouth to apologize again, but heâs got a hand on your shoulder, quickly cutting you off.
You look up at him, and the smileâs still there, but itâs different now â itâs frightening.
âWould you mind stepping to the side for me? It seems some people just donât know when to quit.â
You hear shuffling behind you, and youâre quickly brought back to the situation at hand. Nodding, you get out of his way, and itâs as soon as you step past him that you hear a sickening thud and a groan of pain.
When you turn, youâre relieved to see that the man whoâd been harassing you is on the ground, and if you were to guess, probably out cold.
âWow⊠You made quick work of him,â you donât try to hide the awe in your voice and Suo finds it both endearing and concerning that youâre praising him.
Concerning mainly because, well, you donât seem to be the type to leisurely enjoy street fights.Â
And now youâre right in front of him, inspecting his face and body to make sure there arenât any cuts that need to be treated or any injuries that need tending.
Itâs second nature at this point â ingrained in your body and soul.
Cute, he thinks, very cute that she thinks he touched me.
âDo you see anything wrong, love?â he jests, enjoying the way youâre so diligently scanning him from head to toe.
âNo, I donât thinkââ
You are, once again, mortified by his teasing. No one at Shishitoren spoke to you like this, and sure they called you Princess, but to you, it held the same value as sister or friend.
âS-sorry, force of habit⊠ah, thank you for saving me! I sent my friends a message but ââ
Youâre cut off by the sounds of two distinct voices yelling "Princess", and Suoâs quick to prepare himself for another fight.
However, when he sees Togame and Tomiyama run around the corner with panic in their eyes and desperation in their voices, heâs just confused.
And when they spot the two of you, with an unconscious body on the ground, it gets even more confusing. Because why are they walking over here and why do they have scowls on their face and â
âPrincess, what were you thinking?â
Tomiyama and Togame are all over you, Togameâs hand gently grasping your chin to move your face from side to side, and Tomiyamaâs got his hand on your wrist, softly thumbing at the bruised skin.
âIâm okay, Iâm okay.â
Suoâs observing all of this, and heâs trying to rack his brain for any information about you. God, he really wished Nirei was here right now.
Heâs never heard that name before or seen your face, so this must be a recent development. But with the way theyâre fretting over you, youâd think that youâd all been childhood friends or something because the way that theyâre worrying over you is definitely not normal.
You try to push their hands away from you, embarrassed that you have an audience, but they donât let up so all youâre able to do is grumble and huff as they inspect you from head to toe.
â... He hurt you,â Tomiyama whispers, and you grab his wrist before he starts stalking toward the body on the floor.
âItâs okay um â oh, I donât know your name, but he helped me out! Everythingâs fine â really! Please, letâs calm down,â you plead, and all it takes is one look at your anxious face for the both of them to ease up.
Now, Suo really wants to understand.
âSuo ⊠thanks for protecting her. This idiot didnât tell us she was crossing over into your territory. Itâs our fault, sorry,â Togame explains, one hand scratching the back of his neck and the other draped over your shoulders.
Suo takes a moment to respond. Who would he be, after all, if not an instigator?
Because â who were you? You â who could turn the Shishitoren leader and his second in command into mere puppies with your sweet voice. You â who had them running like their lives depended on it.Â
âAh, Iâd save a sweet girl like her any day,â Suo says, testing the waters, and he gets the exact reaction he was hoping for.
Togame and Tomiyama stiffen up beside you, as you gasp in surprise at his words.Â
And suddenly, thereâs a shift in the air â and itâs deadly.
You sense it, of course, because who wouldnât be able to feel the heightened electricity and the low hum of buzzing coming from Togameâs and Tomiyamaâs chests?
And you, ever the de-escalating expert, quickly blurt out, âAh, wait! I need to go back to the store! Give me like 5 minutes!â
Before they can get a ânoâ out, youâre already out of their grasp and beelining it for the convenience store.
Itâs silent for a moment, with just Suo, Tomiyama, and Togame looking at one another.
Finally, Togame breaks the silence.
âLook, Sakuraâs a friend ââ
âAnd Ume-chan too!â Tomiyama chimes in.
 â â and I hope weâre not stepping on your toes here but donât get any ideas.â
Suo knows he should stop. He should probably apologize, and let them know itâs not what they think. That theyâve got it all wrong. But ⊠he really canât help it â not with the way that theyâre hissing at him like cats. Itâs adorable â and youâre adorable.
He was never really good with holding back his tongue, anyway.
âI think she can make her own decisions, donât you?â
Togame and Tomiyama do not take kindly to his words, and so it begins â a passive-aggressive verbal war.
âHa, right. Itâs been fun, eye-patch-kun, but we really oughta take her back home. You know, so that we can patch her up,â Togame says, and though there's a smile on his face, Suo understands the underlying message behind his words.
She got hurt in your territory, under your patrol.
Suo smiles back at him.
âAh, sorry! I wasnât quick enough to save her, but Iâm glad I was able to sort this out before things got out of hand,â Suo replies.
All you guys do is blow things up out of proportion â with violence.
âIf weâd been here, she wouldnât have gotten hurt in the first place.â
âHm. But you probably wouldâve gone overboard.â
âWatch it ââ
âAh, sorry!â
Itâs when Tomiyama finally opens his mouth that Suo realizes heâs been uncharacteristically quiet, and when they make eye contact, Suoâs smile deepens â because Tomiyama looked like he was ready to maul Suo into pieces, like a true Lion.
âUme-chan and Furin are our friends,â he says, eyes darkening with every word, âbut sheâs our family â I think itâs best if you stand down.â
Itâs at that moment that you come racing back towards them, your hands full of goodies and a grin on your face as you exclaim, âI got it! I got it!â
You hand Togame his Ramune, Tomiyama his snack, and ⊠you hand Suo bottled tea.
âSorry, um, I wasnât too sure what you liked â but this is my favorite drink! Ah, um, if you donât like it ⊠Suo ⊠I wonât be hurt. But you strike me as a tea lover so ââ
Youâre bouncing on the balls of your feet, hands wringing behind your back as you ramble and Suo canât help the sweet smile and the small laugh that escapes his lips before thanking you.
And as soon as heâs done, youâre being whisked away back to your territory â back to your home.
As you walk through the passing, with Tomiyamaâs arm intertwined with yours and Togameâs arm draped over your shoulders, you briefly turn around, just to catch one more glance of Suo.
Heâs standing there, smiling as he raises his hand to wave at you. You smile back at him with a glossy look in your eyes before Togame softly flicks your forehead.
Your attention is on Togame now, pouty and dejected, before turning your head indignantly as you begin to lecture him about how youâre supposed to thank someone when they help you, and that itâs the nice thing to do.
In the heat of your lecture, you miss the way that Tomiyama and Togame also turn back to look at Suo.
In the darkness of the tunnel, Suo swears he can see their eyes glinting, and his smile only deepens.Â
Their eyes, daring and territorial, only say one thing.
Ours. Ours. Ours.Â
He had to admit, he wasnât expecting this turn of events but he was intrigued now.Â
And, itâs only after the three of you disappear that he realizes he never learned your name â your real name.
So, when he volunteers to take over the patrol where the Furin territory ends and the Shishitoren territory starts, who can blame him?
What Suo doesnât know, though, is that after this little incident, youâre permanently banned from walking alone ever again.
(Of course, youâre not actually banned. But, you are given a scolding afterward â which, in your eyes, is rich coming from Togame and Tomiyama, but sure, whatever.)
đ«§đŒđČ*à©â©â§âËđ
The next time Suo sees you, itâs when he least expects it.Â
Youâre in Bofurin territory, with a small first-aid kit on your lap as you tend to the child in front of you. Youâre smiling at the sniffling little boy as you wrap some gauze around his ankle, your fingers adept and swift, as if youâd done this countless times before.
âSee? That wasnât so bad, was it? Youâre so strong!â
You ask him how it feels, and the little boy beams up at you, the tears in his eyes long gone and instead replaced with immense gratitude.
You smile down at him, playfully scolding him to be more careful as you pat his head softly.
And then Suo sees you hand him a lollipop â a lollipop â and itâs the cutest thing heâs ever seen.
So, really, can you blame him for sneaking up behind you and whispering into your ear?
âWhat brings you to Bofurin territory, princess?â
You yelp in surprise, before turning around so fast that Suo worries if you gave yourself whiplash.
Once your blush has gone down and the surprise of seeing him wears off, you explain that youâre here to get some bread for Tomiyama from the Cactus bakery.
Heâd been saying that he wanted fresh bread, but there werenât any in Shishitoren that you knew of. And as soon as he mentioned the Cactusâs Anpan over on Bofurin's side of the tunnel, well, who could blame you for taking that opportunity to not only do something for him but also for yourself?
Which, of course, was to hopefully run into Suo.
âHe sent you all the way over here to pick up bread for him?â
âHm? No, of course not. This is a surprise for him!â
âI see â I was wondering why you didnât have your guard dogs aroundâŠâ
âMy guard dogs?â
âOh!â you laugh and Suo thinks itâs the most pleasant sound heâs heard in his life.
âYou mean Tomiyama and Togame? No, they donât know Iâm here. It wouldnât really be a surprise if they knew, right?â
Suoâs starting to see it now â why they care for you so much. But he wants to know more, so he asks about the kid you were tending to.
âAh â I saw him playing with some kids and he took a nasty fall. I didnât think it was right to let him go home without care, so I patched him up. I hope thatâs okay?â
Suo finds that he really likes talking to you. He likes how expressive you are, how kind you are, and how thoughtful you are. And he finally learns your name. He likes that about you too â itâs cute.
So, naturally, he offers to escort you to Cactus â purely just to keep an eye on you, he convinces himself.
And when he escorts you back to the border, all your goodies in one hand and his arm in the other, well âÂ
He doesnât care enough to find justification for his actions. He just really liked you â plain and simple.
When you let go of his arm, heâs already grieving the feeling of your body pressed to his side.Â
You were warm, soft, and heâs sure that if he ever got the chance to taste your lips, sweet.
âLetâs exchange contact information! That way, you can be my guard dog when Iâm here,â you say as you pull out your phone, and Suoâs so so glad that he ran into you today.
When he adds your contact to his phone, he puts you down as Princess.
When you add his contact to yours, you put him down as Guard Dog.Â
đ«§đŒđČ*à©â©â§âËđ
After that, you and Suo try to meet up. But⊠wellâŠ
You donât see the point in trying to hide it. You were, after all, your own person. You could think for yourself, make decisions for yourself, and speak up for yourself. You were so open to loving and the Shishitoren boys knew this â so why should you hide it?
And when you had something on your mind, you were determined to make it happen. So, you donât see why it would be any different with Suo. You had met him twice now, and you wanted to keep seeing him. To keep talking to him. To maybe even date him.
But to Shishitoren, this was equivalent to losing you â and they could never let that happen.
So Shishitoren never lets you see him â and itâs not like theyâre barricading you inside the Ori or blocking the entrance to the border (though, theyâll admit that the thoughts crossed their mind in one way or the other).
No. They do it in a way that they know will make you stay with them â by acting like big babies.
The first to fall was Arima âÂ
Youâre about to leave to meet up with Suo when Arima runs into the Ori, cries of pain leaving his lips as he whines at how much it hurts. You drop your bag immediately, texting Suo a panicked text about how something came up and that youâre sorry but youâve gotta cancel today.Â
You have Arima sit down, all your supplies laid out next to you as you ask him what happened and âÂ
Itâs a paper cut.
But heâs babbling about how deep it is and how much it stings and it takes forever to just disinfect it and wrap a bandage around it before you realize that half the dayâs just flew by for a minor injury.
Second was Kanuma â when he got a bad haircut.
Third was Sako â when he suddenly, out of nowhere, began asking you for advice about how you would approach someone who you used to look up to but lost respect for, who you vowed to fight and win against, only to lose against them and have them apologize to you (you, obviously, struggled with what advice you could even give him).
Fourth was Tomiyama â when he lost his favorite pair of sneakers.
Fifth was Togame â when he lost an eating challenge for the first time.
âItâs for the good of Shishitoren,â they say as they prepare the next victim.
Eventually, you find yourself tending to almost all of Shishitorenâs wounds, whether physical or emotional, and you just canât believe that theyâre fighting against you and Suo so hard.
But, in between all of that, you and Suo still manage to sneak in hushed phone calls and sweet texts.
Always asking about how the otherâs doing, always talking about how your day went. He looks forward to it, he realizes, laying in bed as he hears you start to slur the ends of your words, drifting off into sleep.
And you send him photos all the time â it could be of a cat you came across while on the way to the Ori, or a drink that you tried that you liked â and with each text, with each phone call, Suo finds himself becoming smitten with you.Â
You, who would remind him to drink water and to at least eat something small to get through the day. You, who had perfect memory and would follow up with the things that heâd talked about days ago, just because you were interested and curious (heâd mentioned that there was a tea spot that he frequented in Makochi, and it only took a day or two later for you to bring it up again, this time with all sorts of questions and comments like âI looked at what they serve! Which oneâs your favorite?â and âIâd love to go there with you sometime, Suo â if I ever get the chanceâ. Heâd only said the name of this tea shop once, but you remembered).Â
And sweet, kind, loving you â who seemed to know whenever he had a particularly tough day. You were so attentive to him, which was surprising because all your interactions were never in person, but it seemed that you could understand his mood just based on the extra second it took for him to answer the phone or the way he responded to your text. And the thing was that Suo was great at masking his emotions â an expert, even. But you, who could just sense these things about other people, were giving him the chance to open up if he so chose to. You never pressed, never battered him for an answer. Just a simple â âI feel like thereâs something on your mind, but if you donât want to talk about it, thatâs okay! Just know that if you ever need a shoulder to lean on, Iâll be there for you Suo.â
And, above all, you never stop trying. You never stop trying to escape the clutches of Shishitoren to see him â though you apologize every time your plans get thwarted as if you both werenât expecting the same outcome.
But Suo doesnât see you again, for months â not until a huge fight breaks out, and youâre honestly the last one he expects to see rushing onto the aftermath of the battlefield with a backpack filled to the brim with medical supplies and a determined look on your face.
They didnât know Shishitoren was going to get involved and fight alongside them, didnât know that the aftermath was going to be this bad. But if Suo had known that youâd be running to meet everyone afterwards, well âÂ
đ«§đŒđČ*à©â©â§âËđ
He sees you a mile away, and heâs so relieved that youâre not hurt. That youâre up and moving. That youâre here. But heâs also surprised and caught off guard because â why were you here?
Itâs then that he sees your bag, sees the way that youâve got your hair up and out of your face, and the way that youâre scanning everyone up and down so fast that your eyes never stop moving.Â
My little nurse, Suo thinks, rushing to the injured like the sweet princess she is.
Little did you know that as he was fighting, there were only 3 things revolving through his mind â Bofurin, Makochi, and you. He fought to protect those 3 things that were so very dear to his heart, and to be greeted with the sight of you after winning? Well, it couldnât be anything less but a sign of his hard work. A reward, if you will.
He sees you run up to Umemiya, serious and purposeful, as you open your mouth and wait for a response. Umemiya, though very confused, gives you an answer that you seem satisfied with because you nod, then thank him, and now youâre running towards Suo, and you make eye contact, and he canât wait for you to dote after him and take care of him and âÂ
You smile at him, scan his body, nod â and walk right past him. You never stopped for him, actually. You just kept moving. Just kept walking.
And Suo just watches â he watches as you make your way over to where Shishitoren is laid out, watches as they all let out a sigh of relief when they see you safe and unharmed, watches as they start talking animatedly to you as you start setting up for aid.
And youâre standing there with a pained look in your eyes as you nod at their words halfheartedly, more focused on the injuries that theyâre sporting on their bodies than the words coming out of their mouths. Youâre going from person to person as fast as you can, and although Suo canât hear you, he can read your lips as you tell every single person â âIâm here now. Itâs okay. Thank you for fighting. Iâll take care of you.â
He watches as you get to Tomiyama and Togame, and sees the way your eyes start to water as they pat your head and tell you that theyâre fine â even though you have eyes, you can see how hard theyâve fought. Instead, theyâre fondly thanking you for coming all this way just to take care of them.
And suddenly, everything got a bit too real for Suo. A bit too scary.
Because he didnât realize how hard heâd fallen for you, in between those two fateful meetings, the constant late-night phone calls, and the never-ending texts.
It hits Suo like a train. He wanted to be the one that you search for in the crowd. He wanted to be the one that youâre fussing over. He wanted you to patch him up. He wanted you.
He was in love with you.
And he shuts down â completely.
He goes silent, uncharacteristically so, to the point that Sakura and Nirei are starting to get worried.
âWhatâs wrong, Suo-san?â
âSuo, whatâs the matter with you?â
It goes through one ear and out the other â no response, no indication that heâs even present at the moment.
Itâs when youâre patching up the last member of Shishitoren that you feel the heat of an eye on you â and your body reacts before your mind can.
Suoâs name is the only thing running through your mind as you finish up as fast as you can â and youâre off.
Youâre making your way to where all of Bofurin is sitting, just barely slipping out of the grasps of the Shishitoren boys.
Itâs Togame, with his long limbs, who reaches out and puts a hand on your shoulder and itâs Tomiyama, with his fast reflexes, who has your hand in his.
âPrincess, noââ
âLet me find Suo.â
âBut you donât even ââ
âChoji, Jo â let me go.â
They hesitate. Youâd never spoken to them like this before. Never used their first names before. Never been so cold before.
But they werenât fools. Even if you tried to hide it, theyâd seen the way you sneaked off to talk to him or the way you thought you were hiding your phone when you were responding to him. Anytime theyâd bring something up that had even an inkling to do with Suo, you were excitedly adding in your input â all while stumbling over your words as you tried to be mysterious.Â
(Theyâd done a test, actually. All they did was bring up the word tea and you were fighting for your life as you kept accidentally saying Suoâs name when talking about your friend.Â
âAh, Suâ AH, I mean, my friend really likes this type of tea.â
âOh! Thatâs Sâ my friend's favorite place in Makochi!â
They didnât have the heart to tell you because, well â you really sucked at lying.)
And they realize, with heavy hearts, that you were never theirs to lock up in the Ori. You were so kind, so lovable, so sweet, because thatâs just who you are as a person.Â
You were protected, sure, and healthy, sure, but you werenât happy.
You, who were the embodiment of everything that Shishitoren was working to protect, had made a choice and they werenât respecting it the way that you respected them â and they were being, well, selfish.
And when they finally let you go, you sigh in relief. Making your way over to where Suoâs sitting, you yell out over your shoulder, with so much spite, so much anger, and so much love âÂ
âYou act like Iâm never coming back â stop whining like puppies!â
Togameâs and Tomiyamaâs eyes widen in shock before they both laugh lightly at your words in disbelief.
You really knew how to scold them.
â... sheâs talking about you.â
â... nah, sheâs definitely talking about you.â
đ«§đŒđČ*à©â©â§âËđ
When you made your way over to Suo, you were met with guarded and curious stares from all of Bofurin. Too focused and too determined, you brush it off. You knew about the fight that they had with Shishitoren, sure, but you thought that they had patched everything up? And Shishitoren had fought with them for this big battle, so why the curiosity?
If only you knew the real reason everyone was staring at you.
Instead, you find yourself running past all of them with Suoâs name falling from your lips, and when you see him, he doesnât respond.
You pause, dejected, before repeating his name.
No response.Â
Now youâre worried â and scared.
You recognize Sakura and Nirei, based on how Suo had described them briefly, and you immediately begin asking them what happened.
âSakura, Nirei â is Suo okay? Did he get hurt? Does he need first aid?â
Youâre met with silence â and shock.
âH-huh? Do we know you?â
âU-umm â sorry, have we met before?â
You pause at their response, looking at them confused.
You blink once, then twice, then three times â before glancing at Suo.
Unresponsive and unperturbed.
You introduce yourself slowly, giving Sakura and Nirei the chance to remember you â because they mustâve heard your name at least once, right?
They hadnât.
And now youâre standing there with hundreds of eyes on you, as you come to terms with the fact that maybe ⊠maybe youâd been wrong this whole time.
You clear your throat before timidly asking a question that you fear you already know the answer to.
âDid he um⊠did he not tell you about me? Uh⊠about us?â
And suddenly â everything goes to shit.
Shishitoren rises up in arms, walking over to where you are because why did you look so confused and why was Suo ignoring their beloved princess âÂ
All of Bofurin is staring at you with their mouths wide open, processing the words youâve just said â
Sakuraâs spluttering, desperately trying to form words as he continues to just point back and forth from you to Suo with shaky hands âÂ
Nireiâs got his notebook in his hand, flipping through it like a madman because how could he miss something like this, and had Suo ever talked about you? âÂ
Suoâs unresponsive, still âÂ
And then, to top it all off, Kiryu gasps because heâs finally solved it. Heâd seen a text on Suoâs phone, so brief and so quick, but he was sure that the person Suo was texting was âÂ
âOh! Youâre the one heâs been texting! Youâre Princess!â
At Kiryuâs words, you snap.Â
And no one, not even Togame and Tomiyama, had ever seen you this angry, this upset, this livid.
You werenât expecting him to go around screaming your name all over Makochi, but what you did expect was at the very least maybe his friends to know. Was that so absurd? You never tried to hide your feelings for Suo from Shishitoren (They tried so hard to stop it) so why wasnât it reciprocated? Did he not feel the same way? Had you looked too deep into his actions and created a fantasy in your mind? Did you not really know him as well as you thought?Â
Or worse â had he been toying with you?Â
Oh, you were pissed â and poor Suo didnât have a clue.
You go to stand in front of him, eerily calm and sickeningly sweet as you call his name one more time.
âHayato Suo.â
Now that â that brings him back to his senses. You watch him blink in succession as he grounds himself, before his eye darts to you, to Furin, to Shishitoren â and he quickly puts the pieces together before letting out a stiff laugh.
âAh â I was hoping to introduce you properly to everyonââ
âAm I a joke to you, Hayato?â
Suo freezes at your words.Â
How could you, who had unknowingly wormed your way into his heavily guarded heart, be a joke?
But he realizes now â and he feels, for one of the few times in his life, stupid.
Because you love with your heart on your sleeve, and Suo loves with his heart tucked away.
And really, Suo shouldâve known, because youâre you â you who gave Shishitoren something to protect and to hold close to their hearts, safe from danger and harmâs way.
You press on, fighting through the anger and the embarrassment and the fear you feel rising inside of you.
âTell me Hayato, answer me. Was I? Hm? Did you have fun?â
âNo, I ââ
âEvery call, every text â did that mean nothing to you? Was I just being delusional?â
âWait I ââ
Youâre so close to him now, softly jabbing your finger into his chest as your words begin to get more and more shaky.
âDo you feel powerful, Hayato? Making a Shishitoren girl fall in love with youââ
You stop yourself, teary-eyed and vulnerable, and you feel so stupid. Because what hurts more than anything is giving someone all your love, all your time, all your energy â all for it to have been for nothing. You thought he felt the same, truly. But now? All you wanted was to walk away from all of this, walk away from Bofurin, and never ever look back.
He grabs your hand, desperately, as your words sink in. He wants to â no, needs to make sure that heâs not just hearing things. That heâs not just imagining it.
âYou ⊠love me?â
You pause, taking the chance to actually look at him. You see hope on his face, and you furrow your eyebrows in response.
â... is this another joke? Of course, I love you, you idiot. You wouldâve been the first one I ran to but your leader said you guys were all patched up already so I ââ
Everyoneâs eyes turn to Umemiya, who shrivels under the attention and wordlessly mouths an âI didnât know!â
But your eyes are only on Suoâs, and Suoâs is only on yours.
And Suo lets you see him, truly see him, for who he is. He doesnât shy away from your stare, doesn't put on a mask, doesnât push his feelings into the box thatâs been his safe haven for so many years.Â
Your eyes flicker with uncertainty and fear, but you convince yourself to try one more time. Just one last time.Â
âHayato Suo, I really do love you,â you whisper, so slowly, so hesitantly, so scared.
Then, with everyoneâs eyes on the both of you, Suo slides one hand to the small of your back, and the other to cradle your face.
He wanted to learn how to love with his heart on his sleeve â just like you.
â⊠again.â
â⊠I lovââ
His lips cut you off, and honestly, youâre not even mad. Not when heâs pulling you flush to his body, his hand slipping to the back of your neck, and your fingers grasping at the collar of his jacket.
Black, with green embroidery.
âI love you, too â but Iâm afraid thereâs too many eyes here for me to show you how deeply I feel for you, Princess â I hope youâll forgive me.â
Dazed, all you can manage is a soft nod and a flutter of your eyelashes before pulling his lips back to yours.
Suo smiles into the kiss. He was right, you were as sweet as he thought youâd be.
#melody answers (& loves it)#melody writes (& never stops)#hayato suo x reader#suo hayato x reader#wind breaker x reader#windbreaker x reader#wind breaker (satoru nii)#hayato suo#suo hayato#wind breaker
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Figuring out I'm on the ace spectrum was so difficult because I have always been a horny bitch. I knew what sex was at a fairly young age, because I'd asked my mom and she's one of those good parents who'll answer questions like those, and as I grew older and would ask more complex questions, her answers would evolve along with my curiosity and understanding of the world. And I remember having fantasies as young as 9 or 10 years old, even if they were hella vague and nothing close to what sex actually is lol
So as I became a teenager, and all my friends' focus turned from playing with dolls to flirting with boys, I automatically thought I was attracted to boys. And I paid more attention to Cute Boys than I did to Cute Girls, because girls were just nice to look at while boys were People To Have Crushes On. Because of heteronormativity. Looking back on it now, I know there were girls I liked to stare at just as intently as boys, although less often because I wasn't trying to pay attention. And I certainly didn't fantasize about girls because I started reading romance novels in 5th grade, so I was fantasizing about male romantic partners because that was the fiction I was consuming. I didn't even realize fantasizing about girls was possible until I was 17, and I had a few "am I a lesbian" internal crises for years because of it.
So when I did start having sex, I had A LOT OF IT with SO MANY different guys, and eventually a couple of women once I started accepting that bisexuality was real. But it was never really fulfilling. Not like my fantasies were. Not like my books were. I was slutty because sex was fun, I was horny, there were plenty of options so I kept searching for that satisfaction I was craving.
Getting married was a relief (even though it turns out I'm aro-spec too lol) because I was tired of hunting, and even if sex with my husband was meh, at least I had someone around to scratch that itch if I had it, and he didn't mind if I occasionally took care of things on my own because I'd read an especially hot scene in a romance.
I learned about asexuality in my early 20s, but I brushed it off. Couldn't be me, I'm far too horny for that. But I think that comes from the fact that everything you hear about Aces is attached to sex-repulsion or sex-indifference. I wasn't either of those things. I was horny all the dang time. I was fantasizing about sex all the dang time. I figured actual sex was meh because my imagination was so vivid that real life could never match up. Which could be true to an extent, but I think not as much as popular opinion would have us believe. If fantasy was really that much better for everyone, then I think we'd have less incels and unplanned pregnancies than we do.
In my 30s I finally saw people talking about The Spectrum, and I started examining my past, and I figured out I wasn't really attracted to anyone I had sex with. I do occasionally find someone attractive; there are men and women and enbies who make my skin feel tight and give me a little wave of lightheadedness lol... but it's always always the fantasy that gets me really going. If given the opportunity I wouldn't have sex with any of those people. Thank you, but no thank you, I'd rather just imagine it than physically participate in the act with them.
(Ok I might go down on them, but that's less about wanting sex, and more about being able to add them to my Tally. Hell yeah I want to brag about making *insert hot person* have an orgasm. There's PRIDE in that kind of accomplishment lol)
I have a lot of respect for aces that are not horny. I understand it even if I don't share the sentiment. And I feel like most of them understand me even if they don't share the sentiment. There's a solidarity between us.
Until I go into a fandom tag for a character that the aces have glommed onto because they're canonically ace or headcanoned as ace. Good lord, the non-horny aces can turn into downright vicious bastards if a horny ace sexualizes their blorbo.
This post is for them.
Horny aces exist. Please look up "autochorissexual, lithosexual, and aegosexual."
Refer to those definitions in regards to romantic attraction as well as sexual attraction.
Some aces may not fall into one of those definitions, because asexuality is a spectrum, but they may still be horny.
Horny aces are not disrespecting you by enjoying being horny on main. We promise we'll wash the stickiness off our hands before we hold your hands in queer solidarity.
And most importantly: Your blorbo is fictional and does not need to be defended from icky sexuality. They exist in an infinite multiverse, so your blorbo and my blorbo are not the same, even if they appear to be on the surface.
AND:
This post is also for the people who are confused about themselves because they're horny but don't actually feel attraction. You're not crazy, you're not wishy washy, you're not "waiting for the right person to come along" (unless you are, in which case I hope you find them). You're just a thin strip of color on a massive rainbow that holds more unique shades than anyone can perceive at a glance.
You're valid. You're one of us too.
And don't be mean to the non-horny aces. Tag your smut so they can avoid it. (But actually so I can find it lol)
#ltleramblings#queer stuff#seriously the fandom fights are so exhausting#thank goodness for the block button#asexuality
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âcatalyst.
pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader
genre: fluff, pining, non-idol au, best friendâs little brother au
word count: 5.4k
summary: when your best friend points out how there seems to be something more than just a platonic friendship going on between you and hyunjin, you couldnât help but start questioning everything youâve been doing together so far.
a/n: and we finally get y/nâs pov!! (and a little bit of hyunieâs as always lol canât help myself). there is a lotttttt of overthinking on her end so please go easy on her, she just got hit by facts she hadnât thought twice about before (thank u chan).
if anyone comes across this in the tags, this is part 15.2 of a social media series called heart out! you can read it as a stand-alone but i wouldnât recommend it since there are a lot of references to the previous parts of the story.
as always i hope you all enjoy! if you do, please let me know your thoughts on it<3
When you woke up that day, you never wouldâve expected to end up with so many unanswered questions by the end of it.
It was supposed to be a normal day â a great one, actually. You were having lunch at the Hwangâs household, and that itself was enough to make you happy as ever.
It had been a while since youâd last seen Hyunjin and Yejiâs parents, let alone shared a meal with them, so you took it upon yourself to get up extra early that morning in order to make some dessert for them âa lemon pie and a chocolate one, as they were Mr. and Mrs. Hwangâs favouritesâ and still have enough time left to get ready.
Yeji called you out as soon as she and Chan arrived to pick you up, ranting about how it wasnât necessary for you to bring anything, while you and Chan could only laugh, knowing well enough she was already eyeing the lemon pie and thinking of how many pieces she would have.
What only made it funnier to you was that you knew youâd get a similar reaction from Hyunjin once you met him at his parentsâ, only heâd be eyeing the chocolate pie instead.
Said and done, as soon as you entered their house and Hyunjin came up to greet you ânot without first letting you know just how hurt he was over you sharing a ride with your friends instead of himâ, he began to go on about how he told you that you didnât need to bring their parents any presents, like you said you would after his mother had so generously made you some soup when you were in bed with a fever a week ago. Nevertheless, you could see the way he stole a few glances at the chocolate pie, before offering to take it to the kitchen, while Yeji did the same with the lemon one. You could never get bored with these two.
Their parents, you knew very well by now, were just the same as them. It was clear where Yeji and Hyunjin got their humor and antics from.
You always had a very nice time with them, as theyâd always find the right topic to keep the conversation going. But then for some reason your dating life made it to the conversation at one point and Mingyu was brought up by their mother asking you about the âhandsome young manâ they met a couple of times; and somehow that alone would be the catalyst that set off a series of events that ultimately left you questioning your entire relationship with Hyunjin later that night.
âSo you are definitely not getting back together with him?â Their mother asked at last, once the whole âMingyu loreâ, as Yeji called it, had been covered.
âUmâŠâ you hesitated, eyes unconsciously locking with Hyunjin next to you, before you looked for Yeji, who was in front of him. âNo, weâre notâ.
âOh, dearâ she lamented. âWhat he did was such a shame, the two of you certainly made a very nice coupleâ.
âYou heard how he turned out to be an asshole, thoughâ Yeji pointed out, taking the words from Hyunjinâs mouth and inevitably having him and Chan nod in silent agreement.
âItâs a good thing youâre moving past himâ their father chimed in this time.
You nodded, giving him a gentle smile. You were trying your best, for sure.
âHis parents must be devastatedâ Mrs. Hwang lamented again, bringing your attention back to her.
This time, you couldnât help but let out a breathy laugh. âI mean, I got along really well with them, but I wouldnât go as far as to think theyâre devastatedâ.
âLosing a daughter-in-law as beautiful and attentive as youâŠâ she explained, bringing some heat to your cheeks that you tried to play off by taking a sip of water. âThe two of you wouldâve made such beautiful childrenâ.
The water you were drinking didnât follow the path down your throat it shouldâve at the sound of her statement, and you inevitably ended up choking on it.
âYah, mumâ Hyunjin called her out, gently patting your back as you tried to catch your breath. âCan we not mention children and her ex in the same sentence?â
âRight, sorryâ she apologised, handing you a napkin and giving you a soft smile before her eyes focused on her husband; ignoring the way Hyunjinâs hand remained unconsciously drawing small circles on your back until you were able to breathe normally again. âBut just imagine if we had that kind of genes in the familyâ.
âDid she just call us ugly?â Yeji frowned, locking eyes with Hyunjin, who couldnât help but chuckle instead of acting offended like his sister â in his eyes you were on a whole other level of beauty after all.
âHonestly though, even I feel offended nowâ Chan butted in. âI donât recall you wanting my genes this badâ.
âThey met you when we were already a couple, she probably wouldâve tried to bribe you too otherwiseâ Yeji let him know with a cynical laugh, having you all follow right after.
âTrust me, sheâs already pictured how cute your children will beâ Mr. Hwang let the couple know.
âCan we not?â Yeji pleaded with red cheeks this time. Chan, on the other hand, could not let the opportunity to tease her pass, poking her cheek and repeating in a squeaky voice just how cute their kids would be. âBack to the topic of Y/Nâs genes, pleaseâ she begged.
âJeez! Thanks, best friendâ you ironically said amidst an incredulous laugh, earning a finger heart and an obnoxious smile from her in response.
âMy point was,â their mother resumed her previous train of thought. âNow that Y/Nâs single, Iâm kind of wishing we had an older son. Imagine how beautiful their children would be if she became a Hwangâ.
Well, that certainly felt like a bucket of ice cold water being thrown right at Hyunjin.
âHyunjinâs right here, though?â Chan pointed out before the youngest could begin to get lost in his âquite angstyâ thoughts. âTheyâre both in their twenties, Iâd say thereâs hope for Y/N to become a Hwangâ.
And maybe, if you werenât too busy kicking Chan under the table, you wouldâve noticed the shy smile curving up Hyunjinâs mouth, as well as his slightly rosy cheeks as he looked down to his still nearly untouched food.
Maybe if Yeji wasnât too busy laughing at her boyfriend after getting hit and ever so poorly trying to comfort him, she wouldâve noticed her brother being all flustered, too.
But, thankfully for him, his parents did. And that was enough for them to nod their heads in silent understanding.
That was the last comment they made about your dating life that afternoon, having no trouble directing the topic once again towards Chan and Yejiâs relationship instead.
You, on the other hand, although had managed to do a pretty good job at following whatever topic was brought up for the rest of the meal, could not seem to let Chanâs comment go.
It was out of place. Way out of it. What did Hyunjin have to do with it anyway? Like, yes, they were talking about you becoming a Hwang and, yes, he was the only son they had, but that didnât immediately make him an option?
He was three years younger than you. He was only seventeen and still in high school when you met, whereas you were in your second year of university. It felt wrong to even think about it. And it was even worse considering that there was a reason his mum had explicitly mentioned her wish to have an older son instead of pushing you towards Hyunjin right away. It didnât seem right for them either, as far as you could tell from what had just gone down.
Which is why you couldnât let it go. Not even after you and Hyunjin got back to your place, like you had agreed to earlier that day when you decided to share a car with Chan and Yeji instead of him, and he wasted no time to secure his much needed alone time with you once you were done at his parentsâ.
Youâd excused yourself to the kitchen to make some popcorn while Hyunjin was comfortably resting on your couch as he looked for any romcom movie to watch while he sipped on the hot chocolate you made as soon as you got home, and you took those few minutes away from him to text Chan and ask for an explanation.
And, God, did you get one.
You re-read the conversation over and over after he went offline, unable to understand where the hell had it all come from.
âHeâs 23 nowâ.
âYou may have met when he was 17 but heâs an adult nowâ.
âConsidering whatâs currently going on between the two of youâ.
âIâm just trying to make you see and actually consider all your choicesâ.
âHyunjin is not a little boy anymoreâ.
Every single text, hitting harder than the other.
Of course he was no longer a little boy. He stopped being one a long time ago, you werenât stupid. But he was still Hyunjin, Yejiâs little brother. Nothing would ever change that.
You were supposed to care for him just like she did, to be there for him and protect him when the time came. He wasnât supposed to be âa choiceâ for you like any other guy could.
He was Hyunjin, the teenage boy who hardly talked to you the weekend you first met and would stutter almost every time he did, and who would so shyly let you and Yeji know dinner was ready whenever you stayed at theirs after that.
Hyunjin, the high school student youâd give some advice regarding the university admission test and applications throughout his last year of it, and whose graduation you attended later on.
Hyunjin, who made it to your university and would constantly ask for your help in his assignments, regardless of him having chosen a completely different major; and who youâd constantly check up on to make sure he was doing okay in his first year of it.
Hyunjin, who held you tight as ever the night Mingyu left you, and refused to go home like Yeji told him it was okay for him to until he was sure you were sound asleep and no longer crying, which didnât happen until way past four in the morning.
Hyunjin, who would text to check up on you every single day after your breakup, even if it meant getting very short, cold answers from the heartbroken and detached persona that had taken over your body the following weeks.
Hyunjin, who included you in his New Yearâs Eve plans and kept you company the entire weekend Yeji and Chan were away.
Hyunjin, who made it known he missed being as close as you once got to be years ago and took the lead to propose picking up where you left off.
Hyunjin, the man who had spent the entire past month making your days better by simply texting or showing up at your place â being there for you even when you didnât need him to.
Had you really missed how much he was there for you? When was it that the roles reversed and he started to look after you instead?
You jumped when the microwave started beeping, letting you know the popcorn was ready. Shoving your phone into your pocket, you rushed to pour the popcorn into a bowl before making your way back into the living room.
Hyunjinâs head snapped in your direction, unable to hide his smile as soon as he saw you.
You gulped, trying your best to calm your heartbeats down before you took a seat next to him right as he placed the now empty mug on the coffee table. Maybe you shouldâve texted Chan later that night, when Hyunjin was back at his place and you wouldnât have to face him right away after being hit with so many questions.
âI was like one minute away from going over there to see what was taking you so longâ he confessed.
âJust making us a small snackâ you smiled cutely, shaking the bowl in your hands to make your point.
âIâm pretty sure popcorn takes like three minutes to make in the microwave,â he pointed out, shoving a single one into his mouth. âYou took like sevenâ.
You scoffed in amusement. âDid you set a timer or something?â
âNo, but I watched three whole movie trailers,â he admitted, earning a breathy laugh from you. âAnd that without counting the minutes I spent scrolling through movies to watch. Iâd say you took at least ten minutes, actuallyâ.
âDid you miss me that much to actually count the minutes?â You couldnât help but joke.
âWell, yesâ he answered with no hesitation, and no signs of joking either; very unfortunately for your already shaken up heart. âI told you earlier that I hadnât seen you all week and wanted to spend time with youâ.
âWeâve been together nearly all dayâ you reminded him sweetly.
âNot alone, thoughâ his words made you feel warm inside, like they seemed to be doing a lot lately. âItâs not the sameâ.
âSorry,â you pouted, and that was enough for him to melt. âI got kinda caught up texting and⊠here, Iâll just leave my phone on the table so weâll just focus on the movieâ.
Placing your phone next to his on the coffee table in front, you leaned back against the sofa, tilting your head up towards the TV, so heâd hit âplayâ and you could get started on your movie night.
When five seconds went by and he didnât move an inch, you focused your eyes on him instead.
âHyunie?â You called him, moving your hand in front of him to pull him out of his thoughts and smiling once you did. âEverything alright?â
âYeah, um, I justâŠâ he struggled, having his eyes going back to your phone. âWas it work related? Like, was it⊠was heâŠâ
âI was talking to Channieâ you clarified when you got what was going through his mind. âDonât be silly now, you really think Iâd spend ten minutes of my life texting my ex boyfriend?â
âI mean, you guys have a project together now, soâŠâ
âStill, we can just get it over with by emailâ you stood your ground. âI only spend that long texting people I actually enjoy talking toâ.
He smiled, happy to know you would usually spend that amount of time texting âif not moreâ and, therefore, he was one of those lucky ones you enjoyed talking to.
Beaming after that realisation, and with the possibility of you talking to your ex out of the way, he grabbed the remote and pointed it to the TV.
âIs this one okay?â He asked, motioning towards the title â10 Things I Hate About Youâ displayed on it.
You nodded quite effusively. âWhat are you waiting for, itâs one of my favouritesâ.
He bit his lip, but not even that was enough to hide the wide smile taking over his face as he leaned back against the couch as well and finally hit âplayâ. Of course he knew you loved that movie. He wasnât choosing one only he enjoyed after all, and maybe knowing youâd get happy about it was the reason he ended up going with this particular one.
To be fair, he knew heâd spend half of the movie looking at you instead anyway. It was quite cute how you wouldnât notice, being way too immersed in the plot you mustâve watched a hundred times by now.
Every now and then, he would reach for the popcorn at the same time as you, with the mere intention of his fingers faintly touching yours, but by the third time they touched and he got no reaction from you, he decided he wanted more â having your fingers touch without you noticing was not enough.
So, he slid slightly down the sofa, just enough for his face to be on the same level as yours, and then he rested his head on your shoulder.
That, you noticed. Hyunjin realised by the way your body tensed up under his touch.
And, for a moment there, he considered sitting up and going back to his previous position, hating the thought of his proximity making you feel uncomfortable; but you greatly surprised him by leaning your head on his before he could do so, silently letting him know right then that you did in fact enjoy being this close to him.
In the end, he had nothing to worry about when it came to touching you, for you had made it clear a while ago that it didnât bother you. But, then again, he wasnât sure whether you were only enduring it or actually enjoyed it. He didnât know which touches were okay and which ones were crossing the line. And the thing was, so far, you enjoyed every single kind of physical contact he had tried with you. They were all brief, innocent even, sweet.
Him leaning his head on your shoulder hadnât made you tense up because he crossed some kind of line, but because, unknown to him, your head was a complete mess right then. Unable to let your previous conversation with Chan go, you were now questioning the meaning behind this small action of his.
âConsidering whatâs currently going on between the two of youâ.
Was this what he meant by that? You and Hyunjin being this kind of close?
This was the first time he rested his head on your shoulder out of all the times youâd been sitting down on your couch just like this, and now you couldnât tell whether you were overthinking too much because of your friendâs words, or whether you wouldâve started overthinking just the same regardless of it.
Yes, he had held your hand before, but it was an act for the hotteok lady not to feel ashamed after thinking the two of you were a couple.
Yes, you had cuddled through the night on this very couch, but it was only because you passed out without either of you noticing.
Every other âmajorâ touch you shared had an excuse behind it. Hyunjin lying his head on your shoulder, however? It didnât have one. He just felt like it, wanted to be close to you. And ultimately you ended up giving in and resting your head on his simply because you felt like it, too. It felt nice. Regardless of the mess going on in your head, you wanted to be close to him, too.
Was it even an overthinking matter anyway? Friends did this all the time, right? Both you and Chan used to do it a lot before you and Mingyu started dating. You and Yeji still did it a lot, too, up to this day. Why did it suddenly feel different with Hyunjin?
Damn you, Bang Chan. You certainly didnât need this right now.
Once again, your thoughts were interrupted by a sound. This one was softer than your microwaveâs beep, though, more like a buzz coming from one of the phones on the coffee table. Considering your phone wasnât on silent mode right then, you knew it was Hyunjinâs.
âYour phone just buzzedâ you let him know when he wouldnât budge.
âLeave itâ he replied simply, shoving another handful of popcorn into his mouth.
âWhat if itâs important?â You wondered.
He sighed, already giving in â as easily as he always did when it came to you. âIâm too comfy, can you pass it to me?â
You nodded in a second, unable to hold back the chuckle that escaped your mouth when you leaned over to grab his phone and he followed your movement, as he refused to lift his head from its comfortable spot on your shoulder.
Just as you were back in your place and about to hand him his phone, though, its screen lit up, letting you see a single message from Dahye.
As soon as you saw it, you panicked, practically shoving the phone into Hyunjinâs hands.
âSorry, I shouldnât have read thatâ you apologised, shamefully looking away.
Hyunjin frowned, sitting up in clear alert before he could check what you were talking about. His eyes opened wide once he read Dahyeâs text and he immediately realised what it mustâve looked like to you.
It was a simple question: âAre you coming over tonight?â
No hello, no âHyunjinie~â; just straight to the point, which couldnât help but lead you to wonder whether texts like this and him going over to her place at night were an usual occurrence by now.
Hyunjin had told you all about her at New Yearâs Eve. From how they kissed when he was drunk to how she wouldnât leave him alone even years after it happened. He told you it was one sided, that he was tired of her constant insistence. But then why did that one text from her make it seem like that wasnât precisely the case?
Unlike him, you hadnât read Hanâs message following Dahyeâs, for it had just been delivered when he checked his phone right then. You hadnât read the one message that gave the whole context to Dahyeâs obscure text.
âShe means to the pregame,â he was fast to clear up. âHan just texted me and apparently weâre going to a noraebang tonight and pregaming at Haeunâs. Dahyeâs staying with her, soâŠâ
You nodded, feeling like you werenât in the place to say anything. It was his life, after all. He could be with whoever he wanted. He didnât owe you any explanations. Fuck, did you want any explanations?
You didnât know if you were feeling embarrassed for reading a text message that was supposed to be private, or if you were upset over the idea that Chan had just planted in your head being tainted not even an hour later.
Maybe youâd been thinking too much over something that wasnât even there, being influenced by your best friend and what he thought was going on between you and Hyunjin. Maybe it was nothing after all.
But you couldnât deny that you did feel quite uneasy over her text.
Were you upset that she was talking to him? Were you upset they were possibly hooking up? Was it being about Hyunjin you were upset about? Or were you just upset over how much the scene playing right in front of you resembled the times youâd just started questioning Mingyuâs relationship with Hayun while you were still together?
The times youâd catch the suspicious text messages popping up on his notifications, how nervous he would get and how he would start to throw excuse after excuse for you to believe he had nothing to do with her⊠You knew this feeling all too well, and you hated that you were feeling it again, with Hyunjin of all people, when you were not even together, you had no feelings for him as far as you knew, and, most importantly, you knew he was nothing like Mingyu at all.
And yet, here you were, feeling the goddamn lump in your throat you had felt one too many times by now because of a guy.
âY/N?â He brought you back to reality. He looked worried. âI promise it doesnât mean what it looked likeâ.
You had to hold back the hopeless laugh that threatened to escape your mouth at the sound of his words.
Words you had heard and decided to let pass way more times than you were proud of, and which brought you right back to the downfall of your last relationship.
You didnât know which one of your concerns had to do with the trauma of your past relationship and which ones were actually related to the current situation you had just found yourself in.
When did it all stop being about Mingyu and it started being about Hyunjin?
âItâs okayâ you gave him the most genuine smile you could give him, to let him know you were alright. Still, he didnât look convinced. âYou should get going, thoughâ.
âI mean it, thoughâ he pushed it when he could tell you werenât convinced. âYou can go through the tââ
âHyunie,â you cut him off, this time with a soft chuckle. âItâs okay. I believe youâ.
Did you?
âBut apparently there is a pregame taking place in a bit, so you should get goingâ.
âYou donât even know at what time it isâ he pouted.
âItâs a little past seven right now,â you pointed out, checking the time in your phone. âIâm guessing at seven thirty? Eight at most?â
Looking down to the group chat with his friends and realising you were right, he only made his pout more prominent.
âAm I right?â You wondered with a teasing smirk.
âYesâŠâ he let out a defeated sigh.
When you laughed triumphantly, he leaned in to rest his forehead on your shoulder.
âI donât wanna go yetâ he mumbled.
âYou have to if you wanna make it in time with your friendsâ.
âI can always just skip pregameâ he suggested, then sitting up again and looking at you with a mischievous smile. âOr skip night out as a wholeâ.
âYah, Hwang Hyunjinâ you scolded him. âYou are not pulling a New Yearâs Eve stunt on me againâ.
âA New Yearâs Eve stunt?â He wondered rather amusedly.
âYou know, when you said youâd only stay with me until midnight and then ended up not going back to your friends that nightâ you explained.
âThis is different, though. We had plans beforeâ.
âStaying on the couch watching movies with me canât even compete with going out with your friendsâ.
âNo, youâre rightâ he nodded. âIt canât compete because staying in with you would win every timeâ.
âHyunjinâŠâ you tried your best to sound stern and not melt over his words. âGoâ.
âButâŠâ
âIâm not letting you skip yet another night out with your friends because of meâ.
âCome with me then?â He asked with puppy eyes.
You were quick to look away, knowing well enough you would fall for his charms otherwise. âIâll have to pass this timeâ.
âIs it because of Dahye?â He carefully wondered, taking your following silence as a yes. âWe can skip pregame and then Iâll tell my friends to make up some excuse for her not to join us at noraebangâ.
âHyunjin,â you couldnât help but chuckle. âYou donât have to do that, just go have fun with themâ.
âBut I wanna be with youâ he pouted once more.
âHyunieâŠâ it sounded like you were begging by now. âThe movieâs about to end anywayâ.
âAnd we were supposed to watch another once once it didâ he reminded you, later allowing a taunting smirk to curve up his lips when a certain idea made it to his head. âAre you so set on making me leave right now because youâre afraid you might not want me to leave at all if I stay any longer?â
You snorted, playfully yet gently poking his forehead. âSomeoneâs gotten a little too cocky, donât you think?â
âAm I wrong, though?â He pushed it. âDo you really want me to go?â
âHm?â
âDo you want me to go?â He repeated.
âYour friendsââ
âThatâs not what Iâm asking youâ he cut you off. âYou have this really bad habit of always avoiding my questions, you know?â
You found yourself lowering your head, feeling oh-so-little under his piercing stare.
Although Hyunjin loved seeing you nervous because of him and it was a very rare occurrence coming from you, right then, he wanted your eyes on him. So, placing two fingers under your chin, he tilted your head back to his eye level â both of you only realising how close you actually were when your eyes met.
âItâs a simple yes or no questionâ he specified, gently removing a strand of hair from your face. âDo you want me to go?â
âNoâ you answered truthfully this time.
He smiled brightly.
âButâBUT,â you emphasized before he could celebrate, leaning slightly back and lifting your index finger for him to pay attention. âLike I said, Iâm not letting you bail on your friends again, there will come a time theyâll get tired of it. You deserve to let loose and have some fun only with themâ.
âBut we were supposed to hang out todayâŠâ
âAnd we did?â
He frowned, clearly not happy with your answer.
âCome onnn,â you tried your best to convince him. âWeâll hang out again tomorrow anywayâ.
âWe will?â He perked up instantly, enough to make you feel shy all over again.
âI mean, if you want to, of courseâŠâ you corrected yourself. You had really become that used to seeing him both days every weekend now for it to be more of a given, huh?
âI believe itâs pretty clear by now that I always want to hang out with youâ.
You tried to hold back a smile â needless to say, your efforts were miserable. âOkay then, weâll see each other tomorrowâ.
âOkay,â he smiled, satisfied with your new plans. âLetâs go out this time, since staying in is too boring for you nowâ.
âWhen did I ever say that?!â
âWhen you said that this,â he motioned around your place. âWasnât competition for a night outâ.
âThat is so not what I meant?â You argued.
âStill,â he laughed, eyes softening when they locked with yours. âIâm taking you out for lunch, okay?â
You smiled timidly, nodding your head. âLetâs see if youâre not too hungover first. Might have to end up taking care of you insteadâ.
âNow I might get blackout drunk just to have you taking care of me tomorrowâ.
You shook your head in disbelief, unable to hide your amusement as you looked away. âNever mind, I will be sending either Yeji or your mum insteadâ.
âIâm joking, Iâm jokingâ he laughed, looking for your eyes to lock with his again and gently grabbing your hands that were resting on your lap. âIâll behave. Just let me take you out for lunch tomorrow, hm? Just us twoâ.
Staring down at your hands in his warm, soft ones, you couldnât help but get invaded with more questions than answers.
It felt nice⊠being touched by him felt nice. Being close to him as a whole made you feel all warm inside. And he was right when he joked about you being scared you wouldnât want him to leave at all if he stayed any longer, because truth was you already didnât. You wanted him to stay, as close as you were minutes before.
Was it okay for you to be this close? Both physically and also emotionally? To the point of talking every single day and finding a way to see each other more than you saw your own best friends?
Did you enjoy his touch so much because it came from him? Or was it because you missed being touched?
Was he like this with everyone else? With Dahye? Anyone else at all? Did he treat you differently from them? Or was he just a flirty person and what you were now considering to be some kind of special treatment was just him acting the same as he did with every other girl?
Were you beginning to fall for him? Had you really been that oblivious to your own feelings? Or were you just looking too much into it now because of Chanâs influence, and mistaking a platonic âand rather strongâ connection for something more?
Would Yeji be okay with it?
Too many questions were invading your mind, one right after the other, and you couldnât find a single answer to any of them just yet.
However, although you didnât know what you were feeling and were unsure about what demons were from your past and which ones were new, you did know one thing for sure: You were never as happy as when you were with him.
So, with a soft smile and a nod of your head, pushing any other thought for later tonight when you went to bed, you said the only thing you could answer to his request right then. âOkayâ.
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i know who you are | 9. the end
Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader
Chapter Summary: Joel leaves overnight for a scouting mission. When he returns, you finally confess your feelings for him.
Chapter Warnings: language, amnesia, slow burn, dry humping, some dead bodies 'n stuff, fluff, feelings, smut (18+ MDNI), piv unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), soft!joel, guns?
WC: 9.1K
Series Masterlist
A/N: Two things. One: I don't have the slightest clue how memory loss works and if what I am about to detail in this chapter is even plausible but if television has taught me anything, nothing is impossible only extremely rare. Two: this is the final chapter and it makes me very sad. I wish I could have thought of more storylines to drag this out but at the end of the day, I feel good about how it all came together and I can't thank quite literally hundreds of you enough for reading this each week. It's kind of insane. So, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU! Also, if anyone wants to toss some one-shot/sequel ideas my way, I am all ears. Much love.
Two Weeks Later
"Joel," you whispered, your head tilted back into the couch cushion while his mouth greedily nipped and sucked at your neck. His hips were grinding lightly against your center and you knew if you didn't stop soon, you would be in trouble. "I think we should slow down."
"Mhmm," he mumbled in agreement, reluctantly pulling his hand from underneath your shirt.
"You're lucky it's still cold enough for me to wear a scarf," you murmured into his hair. He sighed against your neck, finally dragging his mouth away and sat up on the couch while yet another movie went unwatched on the TV.
"Can't seem to get enough of you," he said with a grin, his arm stretching over the back of the sofa. You rolled your eyes dramatically but smiled, pushing yourself up and fixing your shirt before looking at the TV. "Brad Pitt's in this?"
Joel tossed his head back and laughed heartily. "Think he's the main character," he told you, and you scowled at him but he could tell you weren't actually angry.
"Well maybe if you didn't distract me every time we try to watch a damn movie, I would know that."
The past two weeks had been downright perfect. Joel couldn't be any happier. Now that things had changed between you, he craved your touch constantly. Part of him wondered if it was his way of trying to make up for lost time because you weren't wrong: he couldn't keep his hands off you. He had no desire to leave the house or see anybody. All he wanted was to stay holed up with you doing absolutely everything and nothing. He shuddered to think how crazy he would become when you were finally ready to take things further. Tommy will have to drag him by the collar from your bed for his patrol shifts.
"What are you thinking about?" you asked him, leaning into his side and tucking your legs underneath you, only half listening to the movie.
"Patrol," he answered while the tips of his ears burned red from embarrassment, like you caught him doing something he shouldn't be doing. He was perfectly fine waiting as long as it took until you were ready, but it didn't stop him from fantasizing about it. And the fact that he already knew what you felt like, what you sounded like, what made you come undone, worked him up even more.
"How are you feeling about getting back out there?" you asked, tipping your head up to look at him. He didn't seem worried but it was hard to tell sometimes.
"Actually, there was somethin' I wanted to talk to you 'bout," he admitted. "And if you don't want me to do it, I won't. I put you through enough shit as it is-"
"Spit it out, Miller," you said, shifting out from under his arm.
"Now that the snow's melted, I wanna take a couple guys and scout the area for any trace of those raiders," he began, watching your face closely. "I won't go far, but..."
"But?" you pressed, raising an eyebrow.
"But I would be gone overnight. Just one night," he assured you quickly when he saw your face.
"Wouldn't the others have already noticed anything out of the ordinary on patrol?" you asked as anxiety began to squeeze your throat. "I don't understand why you need to go out there."
"'Cause I only trust myself to make sure we're safe," he explained. "If somethin' happened to anyone 'cause I led these assholes to our doorstep, I'd never forgive myself. D'you understand?"
You chewed on your lip and glanced down at your lap as you weighed your options. On one hand, you understood where he was coming from. And if no one else on patrol or guard had yet to see or find anything strange, then Joel would most likely not find anything, either. But on the other hand, just simply leaving Jackson was a risk. And even if Joel didn't find any other raiders, he wouldn't mean he would be safe from whoever or whatever else was out there.
Joel pinched your chin and gently tugged your lip from between your teeth, making you snap out of it.
"Can I go with you?"
Joel's face softened. "No, baby. You don't even remember how to shoot a gun. I can't risk it."
Of course, he was right. "Who would you take?"
He smiled and dropped his hand. "Tommy. Neil. George. Couple others offered, too, but I'm not sure how many we wanna bring. Don't wanna stick out like a sore thumb with ten horses out in the middle of the woods."
You relaxed a bit knowing he would be going with some of Jackson's most seasoned patrolmen.
"Okay," you agreed softly. His face lit up and he leaned forward.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," you sighed, looking over at the TV as the credits began to roll. He hooked a finger under your chin and dragged your eyes back onto him.
"Thank you," he whispered before pressing his lips firmly against yours, trying with all his might to pour every ounce of affection and adoration he had for you into the kiss. You giggled against his mouth as he tried to push you onto your back once again, but you playfully shoved his shoulder before breaking the kiss and scooting away.
"We told Ellie we'd meet her and Dina for dinner, remember?"
He groaned as if he were in physical pain and reached out for you but you quickly stood up, wagging a finger at him. He gazed up at you from the couch with his brown eyes all wide and gentle.
"I mean it, thank you. I don't know what I did to deserve you."
You blushed and bit your lip as you slowly walked backwards towards the stairs. "You can make it up to me one day."
Joel's gaze darkened and he dug his fingers into the couch cushion. "Just say the word, baby. Anytime. Anywhere."
You laughed and turned towards the steps. "Come on, we should get ready for dinner."
"In a minute," he said as you disappeared upstairs. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to will his raging hard on away before standing up and following you.
You inhaled deeply, your body heavy with sleep as you struggled to focus on Joel's voice.
"Sweetheart, I'm leavin'."
With a groan, you rolled over and reached out for him blindly, your eyes still not fully adjusted to the beam of light shining in from the hallway.
He smiled and grabbed your hands, wrapping them around his neck. He felt your fingers dig into the back of his neck and shoulders as you feebly attempted to pull him towards you.
You asked him to wake you up before he left for his scouting mission, so he did as you requested but you were so warm and soft and supple under his touch that he was finding it impossible to leave.
Maybe you planned it that way.
"I'll be back late tomorrow. I love you," he whispered, pressing a kiss against your temple, taking an extra moment to savor it. When he pulled away, your fingers tightened around his neck and you lifted your chin, kissing him with an urgency he hadn't expected from your half-awake state.
"Come home to me, Joel," you mumbled, your eyes squinting at him through the darkness. He pulled an arm from around his neck and brought your knuckles to his lips.
"Promise."
It was so hard to leave but he kept reminding himself he was doing it to keep you safe. Regardless of what Tommy thought, something in his gut told him they hadn't seen the last of those raiders. He brought them into the mountains, and he was determined to be the one to finish it.
"I'm still surprised she let you do this," Tommy said a few hours into their travels. George was leading the group while he and Tommy brought up the rear. The forest was silent, save for the birds just beginning to wake in the branches above. After a long, painful winter, it was a relief to hear the first signs of spring.
"What'dya mean let me?" Joel scoffed, but when he locked eyes with Tommy, who was giving him a look that said he saw right through his bullshit, Joel grinned. "Yeah, alright, it took a little work but she understood."
Tommy nodded and went back to paying attention to their surroundings. They were officially in unguarded territory, the nearest patrol route now miles behind them. The trees had yet to fully bloom so it was still rather easy to see through the woods.
"I think you really freaked her out when you left," Tommy said, "she came runnin' to the house that mornin' in a panic. Thought she wouldn't let you leave her sight again after that."
Joel hummed and turned his head so his brother wouldn't see his smile. He didn't want to worry you, but every time he heard something like that, it reminded him how much you cared, even if you couldn't say it just yet.
"So, you two back to normal now or what?" Tommy pried. Joel shot him a look and he shrugged. "We got a long journey here. We can't talk to pass the time?"
"Yeah, mostly back to normal," Joel finally answered, shifting his weight in his saddle. He could already feel his lower back beginning to flare up. "Takin' things slow. Givin' her as much time as she needs."
Tommy nodded, reading between the lines. "Didn't look that slow the other night after dinner," he muttered under his breath, but Joel still heard him.
"She had a couple drinks, is all," he replied with a chuckle. He scratched his chin as he thought back to a few nights prior when you had draped your arms around his shoulders and your face buried against his neck for the better part of thirty minutes. It was late, all of the families had cleared out after dinner, leaving behind the adults to kick back and cut loose a bit. It reminded Joel of a time before the world went to hell. When he and Tommy would go to a bar on a Friday night, the smell of stale beer and cigarettes in the air while the patrons had to shout over a mediocre cover band playing Lynyrd Skynyrd. It was the first time in a long time he felt relaxed and at ease. He watched his brother and wife across the bar steal kisses around conversations with neighbors, grateful for a night out as Ellie had offered to babysit. He had you at his side, sipping whiskey and making a face before you switched to something else.
As the night dragged on, you got a little closer. Then your hand found his knee under the table and you tilted your head into his shoulder, quietly listening to him discuss the plan for the trip with George. He wrapped an arm around your waist but his focus was entirely on George, too concerned with the map he had spread out over the wooden table. George's wife finally came to collect him, telling him she was tired and he was too old to be trying to keep up with the younger men, shot for shot. She wasn't wrong by the way he stood up and stumbled a bit, leading him towards the door, leaving just the two of you at your table. Once you were alone, your arms snaked around his neck and you tugged him to your lips, your tongue greedily licking into his mouth, the heavy taste of whiskey and gin on your combined breath.
"You sure it was just the drinks? You don't think it had anythin' to do with Angie sittin' two tables over?"
Joel's face flushed and he cleared his throat. It shouldn't turn him on but he couldn't help it. He liked it when you were possessive over him.
"Didn't think it wise to ask," was all he said. Tommy chuckled.
The group made decent time. They had a grid in mind and they almost reached their desired destination by sundown. When morning came, the plan was they would make their way back towards Jackson and cover the northeast quadrant of the map.
As they set up camp for the night, deciding to forego a fire since the temperature was comfortable and they didn't want to risk giving away their location, Neil commented that they hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary so far.
"Not that I mind coming out here, Joel," he followed up quickly, "always a good idea to take precautions and all that."
Joel nodded and focused on spreading out his sleeping bag. "I appreciate you all comin'. Not sure if I say it enough, but I'm grateful."
Neil and George exchanged surprised looks at the unexpected appreciation.
They got an early start the next morning, and as the sun rose higher in the sky and more ground was covered, Joel began to wonder if maybe they would make it back to Jackson sooner than he thought. He really hoped they would. Even if it was just one day, he missed you. He hated sleeping without you. He hated waking up and not finding you curled up against him with your head resting on his chest or his arms wrapped about your waist, face buried against the back of your neck.
He was glancing around the forest, wondering what you were doing right at that very moment when he spotted something orange in the distance. His heart rate picked up and he whistled, catching the group's attention. He pointed through the trees and they all silently slid down from their horses. Checking their weapons, they fanned out and slowly made their way towards the scrap of fabric. As they got closer, Joel could see it was a knit cap stuck in a bush, fluttering in the wind. None of the men saw any other signs of life, each of them silently communicating with hand signals they were taught years ago.
Tommy heard shuffling and he held up his hand, bringing the group to an immediate stop. From his angle, Joel could see that the bush with the knit cap was right outside the opening of a small cave. The way the trees had grown around the rocks, it was impossible to notice it from a distance.
The perfect hiding spot.
He exchanged worried looks with Tommy before they crept closer, his rifle gripped tightly in both hands, ready for anything. The shuffling got louder and clearer and it became apparent that the noise was coming from right within the mouth of the cave. Catching Tommy's eye, he made sure to show him he was putting his rifle away in favor of his hunting knife. He always preferred a silent takedown over wasting ammunition, but just in case it went sideways, Tommy would be ready to cover him.
Joel situated himself next to the mouth of the cave while the other men, spread out amongst the trees, hid and waited. He reached down and grabbed a rock, throwing it about ten feet away to draw out whoever was hiding.
He didn't even need to see it to know what was waiting for him.
When the rock cracked against a tree trunk and he heard the telltale snarl of infected, he tightened his grip on his knife. The runner stumbled out of the cave with a shriek, jaw snapping angrily in the direction of the noise. Joel had run into his fair share of infected over the years. He knew the noise would have drawn the attention of any infected in the immediate vicinity, and when he only spotted one, he almost breathed a sigh of relief.
He took it down silently with a blade to the back of the head, then inspected the body. It looked fresh, the clothes mostly intact. The rest of the men joined him as they peered inside the cave, listening intently for any movement. When they heard none, they began to advance.
The cave wasn't very big but it was enough to house ten men. At least, that's the number of bodies they found, not a single trace of life left.
"Well, shit," Tommy muttered, kicking one of the mangled bodies with his boot. "Guess that hunch of yours was right."
It didn't exactly please Joel to know he was right, but at least it was the best possible scenario. The men were taken out by infected probably within the past week. He counted the bodies five times. Then recounted the backpacks and sleeping bags. Ten seemed to be the correct number. No one was missing, assuming the runner he had just killed was the only raider who had the misfortune of turning instead of dying right away.
They scavenged what they could from the dead bodies before trekking back to the horses.
"Keep your heads up. Don't mean there ain't anythin' else out here," Joel warned.
"The warmer weather must've thawed out some infected," Tommy mused next to him. Joel nodded.
"Probably should warn the others to keep their guard up the next few weeks," he replied. "Maybe add an extra body to the towers if we can."
Tommy nodded in agreement. The winters in the mountains were harsh but at least they saw a decrease in the undead.
"Now let's get the hell home," George said over his shoulder, the rest of the men mumbling in agreement. Joel ducked his chin to his chest to hide his relieved smile. Home.
To say you were happy to see him return was an understatement. It was closer to ten at night when you finally heard his heavy footsteps on the front porch.
"Told'ya I'd come back," he chuckled when you wrapped your arms around him, squeezing him tight.
"I know," you mumbled into his shirt. His heart swelled in his chest and he closed his eyes, breathing deep the smell of your shampoo. You both had a lot of work to do, essentially starting over and building a relationship from the ground up, but it was moments like those that made him believe everything was going to work out.
"Are you hungry?"
"Nah, just need a shower," he said, dropping his pack by the door and kicking off his boots.
"So I take it you didn't find anything?" you asked, trailing up the stairs behind him. He walked into your bedroom to grab a fresh set of boxers and sweatpants.
"Actually, we did," he began, and your heart plummeted. He saw the look on your face and quickly shook his head. "They were dead by the time we got there. 'Bout ten of 'em holed up in a cave. Infected got to 'em first."
"Oh, wow," you breathed, slowly sinking down onto the bed. "Well, at least you have peace of mind now, right?"
"Exactly," he said, giving you a quick kiss before heading into the bathroom. "Be out in a minute."
You heard the water turn on and you glanced over at the red flannel of Joel's that you slept in the night before. Even though it was clean, it still smelled like him. You glanced at the closed bathroom door and bit your lip, your heart fluttering in your chest as you thought things over. The morning he left, you wished you had told him but you were too sleepy and you wanted it to be more meaningful. Then, when you woke up and his side of the bed was ice cold, you felt the dread begin to creep up your spine. What if something happened and you never told him how you felt?
Well, nothing happened. He was home now. Safe and sound. There was no reason not to tell him.
You heard the water turn off and you jumped up to grab his flannel and scurried out of the bedroom, across the hall to the other bathroom, shutting the door.
Joel emerged a few minutes later with his wet hair slicked back wearing just a pair of sweatpants, per usual. He tossed his dirty clothes in the laundry basket and looked around. He noticed the closed door across the hall and assumed you were getting ready for bed so he slid between the sheets with a groan. He closed his eyes and took a moment to appreciate the mattress underneath him instead of the unforgiving forest floor before leaning over to grab his glasses and a book.
When you tiptoed back into the bedroom wearing only his flannel, he didn't notice at first. His focus was on the small print in front of him, blinking a few times and wondering if he needed stronger lenses when you cleared your throat. He glanced up and did a double take, his lips parting in shock when he saw his red flannel hugging your curves, the hem falling just below your ass.
You looked up at him and feigned surprise. "Oh, is this okay? I was cold-"
"Yes," he swallowed, immediately cutting you off, "it's okay."
You smiled and made a show of bending over to fix the sheets. Again, he swallowed tightly when he caught a glimpse of your black underwear and he felt his cock twitch. Before you turned around he made sure to be focused back on his book, although he was most definitely not absorbing any of the words on the page.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw you peel back the sheets and with a sigh, you tucked yourself in. You glanced over at him, admiring his strong side profile and the way his glasses perched on the tip of his nose.
"I missed you," you whispered, and he dragged his eyes from his book to look at you.
"I missed you, too."
You caught the way his eyes flicked down to your chest where you purposely left two buttons undone so you exposed a little bit of cleavage.
"What are you reading?" you asked, and he laughed through his nose.
"I've got no fuckin' idea."
In a flash, his book was discarded and you were in his lap, your mouth hungrily devouring his as he carefully removed his glasses and tossed them to the side. He wrapped both arms around you and held you close to his bare chest, his tongue licking past your teeth eagerly.
"You look so fuckin' good in my clothes," he growled, sounding as if it pained him before biting at your jaw.
"I wore your shirts the whole time you were gone," you admitted, rolling your head back and grinding down on his hips. You bit your lip when you felt how hard he was already. "Almost the whole week. I slept in your bed and-"
"Fuck," Joel groaned, grabbing your face with both hands and feverishly plunged his tongue into your mouth. You moaned and grabbed his shoulders, the intensity behind the kiss growing too hot. You could feel yourself tumbling, free-falling into the abyss with the unspoken words sitting heavy on your tongue, hoping Joel would be there to catch you.
"Wait," you gasped, pulling away, but only a little. Your forehead still rested against his as you both panted for air.
"I know, I'm sorry-" he was about to apologize for taking things too far when you cut him off.
"Do you remember all those months ago when I asked how I fell in love with you?"
Joel nodded. "Yeah."
"Do you remember what you said?"
He tilted his head back, lips parted as he gazed up at you, wondering why you were asking him those questions in that moment.
"Yeah," he replied slowly, "I said you're gonna have to wait to find out."
You bit your lip and with a shaky hand, you traced one of the wrinkles next to his eyes. "Well, I found out."
His chest stilled, breath caught in his throat as he processed your words. His eyes roamed over your face, hoping and praying he wasn't misunderstanding. When you saw him nervously swallow, you smiled.
"I love you, Joel."
His eyebrows pinched together and before you could see the tears welling up in his eyes, he pulled you down for another searing kiss. This time, he went slower. He savored every second, he memorized everything he possibly could about that moment because the way you made him feel hearing those words was unlike anything he ever experienced and he didn't want to take a single second for granted.
"I love you, too," he choked. He could feel you smile against his lips when he pressed his mouth against yours again. "Fuck, I love you so much," he mumbled, his hands falling to your hips, "I'd do anythin' for you."
Your mouth latched onto his throat and you dropped your hand between your bodies, your fingers lightly stroking him through his pants. And once again, you felt his muscles stiffen and freeze.
For a moment, the self-doubt crept in. What if he didn't want to? Was he too tired? Was he not ready? Then his hand covered your wrist and you watched as he slowly dragged your hand up and down, showing you what he liked. Encouraging you to continue. So you did.
His head tipped back against the headboard with a sigh and he squeezed his eyes shut, removing his hand and letting you take control. He wanted - no, needed - you to call the shots. You needed to take it as far as you wanted to take it.
When your fingers dipped below his waistband, he tensed.
When he finally felt your soft touch on his cock, he groaned.
It was better than he even remembered. His eyes were still closed as you worked him up and down, the arousal pooling between your legs the longer you spent just feeling him and not seeing him.
"I want you," you whispered in his ear, and his hips jolted as he whined against your shoulder. You wanted him.
When he opened his eyes, he looked absolutely wrecked. You could see that he was trying his best to hold back, trying his best to make sure you were comfortable, that you weren't feeling pressured, that you really wanted it.
But when you sweetly whispered please, Joel, he didn't hesitate. He flipped you onto your back and pulled hastily at the buttons of his flannel while he cemented his mouth against yours. Your hands drifted to his hair and back, pulling and scratching as you went while he finally flung open the shirt. He instantly latched his lips around your nipple, making you moan and arch your back underneath him.
"So beautiful," he mumbled against your chest. "Tell me again."
You smiled and peered down at him. "I love you."
He breathed a sigh of relief, his exhale fanning over your skin, making your nipples tighten. His rough hands slid down your stomach, thick fingers splayed wide, trying to touch as much of you as possible at once.
You could hear your heartbeat thrumming steadily in your ears when he dipped his fingers below the elastic of your underwear, a deafening sound that made it hard to focus but when he slid a finger slowly through your arousal, your senses suddenly sharpened. The house could have been on fire but you never would have known because all you could focus on was him.
He dragged his open mouth across your chest, teeth grazing over your collarbone, tongue flicking out and tasting you as he went. His lips puckered and sucked at your skin as he pet gently at your entrance, making you squirm with need and tug impatiently at his hair. When he pulled his hand out of your underwear, you made a frustrated little noise that made him smile. He popped his finger into his mouth and you watched, struggling to breathe, as his eyes fluttered closed and he moaned like he had just slipped into a warm bath after a hard day.
"God, I missed that," he whispered, and the look on his face made you actually believe him.
"Joel..." you breathed, plucking feebly at the waistband of his sweatpants.
"Lemme just make you come on my mouth first," and before you could respond, he was shimmying down between your legs and tugging off your panties. When you glanced down and saw how good it looked with his head between your legs, you relaxed and leaned back. How could you argue with that view?
"Oh," you sighed when his tongue first slid through your folds. You tipped your head back and closed your eyes, allowing your muscles to melt under his touch. His hands held your thighs open but he didn't need to bother. There was no possible way you would do anything to stop him. Not when he felt so good, taking his time and expertly lavishing your core with his tongue. And perhaps he was an expert. At least when it came to you, he had five years of experience to fall back on. He surely must have figured out what you liked in all that time.
Your breath was growing ragged and you could feel the heat creeping up your chest. He pressed the backs of your thighs, pushing your knees up towards your chest so he could devour every inch of you, eating messily at your cunt. You pulled your knees back and hooked your hands around each one, your thighs becoming too shaky to hold open with your own strength.
It was a combination of his lips wrapping around your clit and the deep groan that rumbled through his chest that made you come undone the first time. Instant relief flashed through your body and you released your knees, letting your legs fall limply onto the quilt while he eagerly cleaned you up with his tongue.
When he sensed it was too much, he began peppering kisses along your inner thighs, murmuring praise into your skin as he went. You opened your eyes and peered down at him, your breath getting caught in your throat at the sight. His mouth and beard were glistening with your slick, his own eyes remained shut as he mindlessly nipped and kissed your skin, but even from your angle you could see him rutting his hips into the mattress, looking for any amount of friction to relieve the ache.
You reached your arms out to him and he inched up but stopped at your stomach. He sighed and rested the side of his head against your belly, listening to your breath evening out as he closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around your waist. It took you by surprise that he wasn't immediately jumping at the chance to chase his own release when it was clear just a moment before he was dying for it. You glanced down at him and smiled when you saw the look on his face, simply content with just holding and being close to you. Carding your fingers through his curls, you heard him hum before pressing a gentle kiss against your stomach.
It might have been that moment when you realized he was right. What you had was special and rare. You could feel it in your bones, the way a look or touch sent a jolt right through you. The way you felt drawn to him, even from the very first day of your accident, you could sense something in him. You had no idea at the time what it was, but you were beginning to understand now.
"Joel?" you whispered, worried he might have somehow fallen asleep. Then you felt it. The first hot teardrop hit your skin and your heart clenched. "C'mere," you said, tugging at his shoulders. Begrudgingly, he obeyed. And after his arms loosened and he unpeeled his wet face from your belly, you saw the anguish in his eyes. All watery and wide and guilt-ridden.
"I don't deserve you," he said softly, his voice breaking a bit as you cupped his jaw. "Never did and definitely don't now. Not after everything I've done. Don't deserve your forgiveness, let alone your love."
You shushed him and pressed your lips tenderly against his, your thumb wiping away his tears as they fell.
"Don't tell me who I can and cannot love," you said, taking his chin in your hand and giving it a firm shake, like you were punishing him. He chuckled thickly through the tears.
You pulled him down by the back of his neck and kissed him slower, your tongue just barely dipping into his mouth. He groaned when you began to plant wet kisses along his jaw and you noticed with pride that his chest was rising and falling faster than usual while his hips ground into yours.
"Love you s'much," he almost sounded drunk, the feel of your mouth over his skin clouding his mind and mushing his words together.
"Yeah?" you asked before sucking a bruise where his jaw met his throat. "Then show me."
Joel kicked off his sweatpants and boxers with a grunt but when you went to remove his flannel from around your shoulders, he stopped you.
"Leave it on."
Your cheeks flared with heat at the way he looked at you and all you could do was nod and bite your lip.
It felt like time stood still when you first felt him enter you. Like nothing else in the world mattered outside of those four walls. He held your gaze and your fingers dug into his back, each of you savoring the stretch with your mouths hung open, the only sound was the occasional sharp little breath or gasp from one or both of you.
You could see it in his face again and you had a feeling you mirrored his look. It was too intense. Too overwhelming. So much had happened that led up to that moment: all the fear, sadness, laughter, arguments, long talks and shared traumas came crashing down at once. A tear slid down your cheek right when his hips came flush with yours and he leaned down to kiss it away.
"You okay?"
You nodded and wiped another tear away with the back of your hand.
"It's just a lot, y'know?" you sniffled, hoping he understood. And he did.
His eyes glistened and he smiled, his fingers brushing away a few stray pieces of hair from your face. "I know. We've come a long way."
"Yeah," you whispered, blinking back more tears. Your fingertips traced his bottom lip, your eyes flickering around his face, taking in every little crease and dimple. "Kiss me."
He did as you asked, kissing you slow and deep, matching pace with his hips. Your fingers dug into his arms, holding onto him, keeping him close. His hand pushed his flannel back, exposing one of your shoulders while your head tilted back into the pillows, momentarily breaking away for air. You moaned softly when he began to grind his hips against you, providing your clit with some much needed stimulation while he dragged his mouth down the column of your throat and across your collarbone. When he sunk his teeth gently into your shoulder, he felt you clench around him and gasp.
How's that feel?
Do that again.
Tell me you love me.
I love you.
Those sweet, desperate whispers were shared, breathed into each other's mouths, every word dragged out, every touch deliberate and slow. Neither of you in the mood to rush a thing as your fingers tightly laced together next to your head.
His other hand skirted around your back and under his shirt, palm pressing against your spine, pulling you closer to him, if it was even possible. He flexed his hips and you groaned when the tip of his cock hit a spot that had your entire body buzzing.
"Right there," you whimpered into his neck, brows pinched together and stomach tightening as you concentrated on the fire being stoked deep within you. Every one of his powerful thrusts was adding fuel to the flames. Your skin was slick with sweat and you began to regret keeping his flannel on.
"I know, baby. I remember," he whispered, tightening his grip on you. "Fuck, y'feel so good, I can't-"
"Don't stop! Please, Joel, more," you begged, tears welling up and spilling down your cheeks the closer and closer he pushed you to the edge. Your thighs tensed around his waist and his lips kissed the tears away and when you came, crying his name into his skin, he soothed you. He told you how much he loved you, how much he missed being so close to you, reminded you he was right there, that he had you and everything was okay.
Moments later, you felt his body tremble and his hips stutter. In a haze, you loosened your legs from around his waist. His lips captured yours frantically, fast puffs of exhale fanning over your cheek as he got more and more lost in chasing his climax. Your shaking fingers reached up to get tangled in his hair, ensuring his mouth remained firmly planted against your lips, muffling his groans and garbled versions of your name and I love yous, swallowing everything down until he yanked his hips away, spilling himself all over your stomach.
You both broke the kiss and looked down between your bodies, watching as each weak thrust painted your skin with more and more of his release until he finally stilled and shuddered.
After he finally forced himself to stand, he cleaned you up and slipped back into bed, one of his legs sticking out from underneath the covers, still slightly panting for air. You curled into his side, his arm wrapped around you, pulling you snug against him, his nose getting buried in your hair as you listened to each other's breaths even out. You quietly told him about a wound you stitched up at work all by yourself the day before and he told you how proud he was of you. You listened to him tell you a little more about his trip, how relieved he felt now that he confirmed with his own eyes Jackson was safe. At least, for the time being.
The last thing you remembered was him telling you how much he hated sleeping on the ground and how much he missed you while his knuckles soothingly dragged over your stomach but all you could think about was the warm glow that radiated from your skin and the delicious soreness between your legs as you drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, you heard birds singing outside your window. You smiled before you even opened your eyes. Spring was coming. You always loved spring. Something about it made you hopeful and calm, and that morning was no exception.
You awoke still wrapped in his arms and his flannel, your cheek pressed against his bare chest, one of your legs slotted between his, enjoying the peace and quiet the morning brought.
"I thought you died," you admitted quietly once he woke, your fingertips tracing over the scar above his hip. "When you didn't come back that day, I was so worried. So scared my last words to you were something cruel and hurtful."
He hummed and said, "Oh darlin', I'm so sorry," then kissed the top of your head.
"Don't be. In a way, it helped me realize how much I care about you," you replied, lifting your chin from his chest to glance up at him. He always looked way too handsome in the morning. It was hardly fair. "Made me realize I couldn't live without you."
He grinned and rolled his shoulder, stretching out his sore muscles. "Well, if that's all it took, why didn't you say somethin' sooner?"
You giggled and looked back down at his scar, the smile slowly slipping from your face the longer you looked at the pale jagged edges marring his bronzed skin. "God, that day you didn't come back, though," you continued, your brow furrowed as you thought, "I had the worst pit in my stomach. Almost like I knew something was wrong, you know?"
He nodded and closed his eyes, letting you talk, completely at ease listening to your voice.
"It probably didn't help I had woken up that morning from the worst fucking nightmare."
"What nightmare?" he asked sleepily.
You chuckled when you thought about it.
"It's not really funny," you explained, rolling off of him and onto your back, pulling his flannel closed as you moved. "It had started out just like this, actually. It was morning, we were in bed and we were talking... about death?" you said the last part as if it were a question. "I was asking you if you believed in heaven and I told you I was afraid we were going to hell." His eyes snapped open and he quickly rolled his head to look at you, waiting for you to continue. You laughed again and shrugged. "I guess it felt like a premonition or something. Really freaked me out, it felt so real."
"What else?" he asked excitedly, sitting up. You looked up at him and cocked your head to the side.
"What do you mean?"
"What else do you remember? From the nightmare?"
"Oh," you said, pushing yourself up so you were also sitting. You stared at the wall blankly as you thought about it. "You told me we aren't bad people, and even though I told you we had done bad things, I believed you. Then..." you felt your cheeks flush and he sat forward eagerly.
"Then what?" he urged, and when you looked at him again, any trace of playfulness was gone.
"Then... it got a little dirty but I woke up before anything happened. But I do remember you were on top of me and you said-"
"This is heaven right here?" he finished for you, and you looked at him in surprise.
"Yes! How did-"
"That was no nightmare, honey. That happened," he told you, his voice rising. He thought his heart was going to explode, it was racing so fast.
"What?" you whispered, but Joel was already jumping out of bed and tugging on his boxers.
"C'mon, get up! We gotta take you to see Nick!"
"Wait," you said, buttoning up his flannel as he flew around the room, grabbing new clothes for you both. "Joel, this was a month ago, what will going to see Nick do?"
"I-I-I don't know! But we gotta tell him. Maybe there's somethin' we can do if we know you're capable of -"
"Joel, sit down," you said, cutting him off. He froze, having just tugged on a shirt but his jeans were still left unzipped and unbuttoned. You stared at him until he took the few steps towards the bed and sat down on the edge. "I'll talk to Nick next time I'm at work, but I don't want to barge in there and take up his time. You know this is out of his area of expertise."
He looked disappointed but he knew you were right because he finally nodded in agreement and bit the inside of his cheek while he stared at the floor. You put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, drawing his attention back onto you.
"It doesn't matter, anyway," you said softly. "If my memories come back, then they come back. If they don't, they don't. All that matters is this... right?" you asked, inching closer to him and resting a hand on his thigh. He smiled and enveloped your hand in his.
"Yeah, you're right," he said, staring down at your conjoined hands for a moment. "You wanna go get some breakfast? Maybe talk 'bout it a bit more?"
"Sure," you replied, then leaned forward, kissing him tenderly before standing up. "I should probably shower, though. Last night got a little messy," you said, tossing him a wink over your shoulder. He smirked and watched your ass sway back and forth in his fucking clothes as you made your way to the bathroom. You turned around in the doorway, one hand on the knob, the other braced against the frame as you looked at him expectantly from across the room. "Aren't you coming?"
All the blood rushed directly between his legs and just like that, his excitement for you recalling a memory was replaced by a very different kind of excitement.
"Hell, yes," he said, standing up and shucking off his shirt as he followed you into the bathroom. He grabbed your face with both hands and crashed his mouth against yours, kicking the door shut behind him.
Three Months Later
"Can't believe I'm the one teachin' you how to shoot," Joel muttered in disbelief as you walked back from the line of trees where he had hammered a paper target into one of the trunks. "You were always a better shot than me. Almost better than Tommy, and he was in the goddamn Army."
You laughed and shook your head, still finding it difficult to believe that you ever shot a gun before. From what you remember, you were always afraid of guns growing up.
"Maybe I'm a natural, then."
Enough time had passed and the weather had gotten warm enough where you decided it would be beneficial to re-learn how to shoot. You didn't plan on going back to patrol, but in the world you lived in, it was an important skill to have.
You sat down next to Joel on the fallen tree trunk in the middle of a small field about two miles away from Jackson. He picked up each one of his guns and inspected them, making sure they were clean so there wouldn't be much kickback.
"Have any dreams lately?"
You sighed and shook your head. "Just the one about Ellie, and that was over a month ago."
When you woke up one morning from a dream that felt all too real, you shook Joel awake to tell him about it. It was a simple dream, but it felt intense. You had dreamed Ellie sat you and Joel down at the kitchen table, and full of nerves, explained that she was seeing someone. Someone she cared about deeply. You seemed to catch on quicker than Joel because the conversation lead to where Ellie had to point blank explain to him that she was dating another girl. He seemed surprised but not overly shocked, and when he shrugged it off and still maintained that his only concern was her partner treating her right, her face broke out into a huge smile.
After he confirmed it was a memory, you agreed to see Nick. He didn't end up having much insight on what spurred your sudden recollection that day, just as you expected. But much to your surprise, Joel was perfectly calm. In fact, he made a point of thanking Nick and you even saw him smile at the other man.
And it wasn't just Nick you noticed his demeanor changing toward, either. When kids playing in the street bumped into him, he laughed and waved them off. When Jesse proposed to his girlfriend, Joel was one of the first in line to give him a hearty handshake and wished them well.
You weren't sure if his behavior changed because you were so revolted by it in the beginning, or if he was just happier in general, but you didn't complain.
"Alright, so which one d'you think we're gonna use from this distance?" he asked after he showed you his revolver and then his rifle, explaining the difference between each: how they handled, when to use them, when not to use them, and then finally, how to load and unload them.
You gave him a blank look. "The rifle, Joel. I'm not a complete idiot. I've seen movies."
He grinned and holstered his revolver.
"Good girl. Beauty and brains," he said, and you rolled your eyes.
"Don't start."
"What?" he asked innocently.
"Don't start flirting with me. You'll distract me and I want to take this seriously."
"I ain't flirtin' with you."
"Yes, you are!"
He laughed heartily at your frustrated little pout. "Can you blame me? You're so goddamn cute."
"Joel..." you whined, and he held up both hands in defeat before picking up the rifle.
"Alright, alright. Lemme shoot off a few rounds and you watch my form, okay? Watch my shoulders and where my hands go."
"Okay."
You observed him as he took aim at the target, nearly hitting the bullseye but not quite.
"You wanna give it a shot?"
"Pun intended?"
He grinned and held out the rifle, so you grabbed it and sunk down to one knee, resting your elbows on the tree trunk as you tried to imitate his posture.
"Like this?"
"Mhm," he said, "now take a deep breath and squeeze the trigger nice 'n slow."
Doing as you were told, you inhaled and blinked a few times, making sure your vision was clear and your eye was on the prize. Pursing your lips, you slowly exhaled and squeezed the trigger - only to miss hitting the target entirely.
"Shit," you grumbled, sitting back on your heels.
"You got spooked by the kickback," Joel said, "try again, but this time try not to flinch."
You shouldered the rifle and took aim, once again taking a deep breath and focusing on the little yellow circle in the middle of the target. When you fired off your second round, doing your best not to flinch, you clipped the edge of the paper, but you were no where near the center.
"Goddamnit!" you yelled angrily. Joel chuckled and crouched behind you.
"Here. Lemme help you."
He wrapped his arms around yours and pressed his chest against your back, his hands coming to rest on top of yours as he made some minuscule adjustments to your posture.
"Y'gotta be gentle, see?" he whispered in your ear. Your eyelids fluttered but you managed to nod. "Gotta be patient. Don't let her scare you. Think of her as an extension of you. Like another arm."
"Her?" you teased.
He chuckled, his breath puffing against the back of your neck. "Yeah. Her. I'm respectful and careful with all my girls."
"All?" you repeated, leaning into him a bit. "How many are there?"
"Oh, tons," he said, making you giggle. "But if it makes you feel any better, you're my favorite."
"A favorite over a bunch of guns? I'm so flattered."
"Hey, now. Didn't you just say you wanted to take this seriously? C'mon, focus up," and you knew he was right so you straightened up and pressed your eye against the scope once again.
Joel stayed behind you, his hands on your shoulders to help stabilize your upper body as you squeezed off shot after shot. His advice helped a little, you were at least hitting the paper, but you weren't getting anywhere near his shots from earlier. He could see you were growing frustrated so when you ran out of bullets, he took the rifle and told you to take a break while he reloaded.
"It's okay, darlin'. It's gonna take a bit to get used to it."
You sighed and slumped forward on the tree trunk. "Yeah, I guess," you mumbled.
For the next twenty minutes, Joel coached you while you struggled to remember all his advice at once. Keep your shoulders loose. Don't flinch. Follow through. Breathe. When you pulled the last round into the chamber and took aim, you expected it to go like all the others so you stopped worrying about it and just pulled the trigger.
"Holy shit, you did it!" Joel exclaimed excitedly. You hadn't even bothered to look, so you quickly brought the scope back up to your face. When you saw the small little circle burning a hole through the paper, nearly dead center, you squealed and quickly placed the rifle against the tree so you could jump into Joel's arms. He wrapped his arms around your ribs and spun you around while you giggled into his neck.
"Told you," he said with a wide grin after he put you back down. You grabbed his face with both hands and pulled him into you, crashing your lips together, taking him by surprise. He stumbled forward but wrapped a hand around the back of your neck just as you lost your own footing and fell onto the grass, dragging him down with you.
You laughed against his mouth, still peppering kisses all over his face. He braced both arms on either side of you, elbows digging into the warm grass, smile permanently stretching across his cheeks as he soaked up your affection.
When your laughter died down, you pulled away to gaze up at him, your fingers playing with the dark curls at the base of his neck. The sun was shining over the field and onto his tanned skin, making his sparkling brown eyes look like the color of gold. It took your breath away.
"You're so handsome," you whispered in awe, your fingers leaving his hair in favor of stroking the graying stubble dusting his cheeks. He blushed and shook his head, but before he could protest, you spoke again. "I love you so much, Joel. Sometimes it makes me sad to think we probably wouldn't have ever known each other if the world didn't end."
His eyes softened and he gave you a small smile, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. "I'll always find you. In every life, in every universe. You've got a piece of me," he tapped your chest lightly, "I don't make the rules."
You laughed and laced your fingers together with his. "Like fate?"
He shrugged. "Call it whatever you want. I already told you, sweetheart. We're meant to be together."
You pulled him down for another kiss, this one more gentle. More loving. More intimate. For the hundredth time, you mentally berated yourself for wasting so much time after your accident when you could have been with him like this, being loved and adored and cherished all along. Instead, you both had been searching endlessly for some version of yourself that you weren't sure you would ever find again. But then you realized if you never did, that was okay. Because you got to fall in love with each other all over again, and how many people get to say that?
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