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skyloftian-nutcase · 2 years ago

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Blood of the Hero Ch 9 (Link's parents play BotW)

Summary: The Soul of the Hero will always be there to save Hyrule. But when Calamity Ganon is nearly victorious in killing him, it's those that bear the Blood of the Hero who will prevail. Ten years after the Great Calamity, the Shrine of Resurrection is damaged and Link's parents fight to save their son and Hyrule along with him.

i.e. Link's parents play BotW while protecting their boy and they are ready to take on Ganon himself if they have to.

(AO3 link)

First

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To Kakariko - Dueling Peaks

It was the prickling on his neck that woke him. It was an unsettling feeling, like he was being watched. He’d felt it a few times when a monster would try to jump him or his men during a journey.

Abel opened his eyes, instantly on edge and confused. He was home; why did he feel like he was being—

Oh.

A little set of beady eyes was staring at him silently from the stairway, peeking around the edge of the banister.

“Link…?” Abel whispered a little hoarsely. “What’s wrong?”

His son watched him mutely, biting his lip. He looked afraid.

Concerned, Abel slowly slid out of the bed, careful not to disturb Tilieth. “What’s the matter, son?”

The toddler looked at his feet, sniffling. When he still didn’t speak, Abel sighed, sitting on the stairs and pulling the little one onto his lap. Link was a bit of a mystery sometimes, though he wasn’t sure if that was because the child was really that bizarre or because he himself knew so little of children anyway. This was his first, after all. But either way… Link was a pendulum swinging rapidly between a noisy, boisterous, and reckless three-year-old and a stifled, quiet, and timid one. To some degree Abel saw his own more silent demeanor and Til’s exuberance for life fighting for dominance in the child, and he felt a little guilty for it.

But when Abel was scared, he would grow agitated and aggressive. He would fight his fear. This little one seemed overwhelmed by it… and he didn’t know how to address that.

Giving his boy a kiss on the head, he said, “Tell me what’s wrong, Link.”

“Bad dream,” Link finally admitted into his father’s chest, his little hands clinging to Abel’s tunic.

“Oh?” Abel prompted, rubbing the little one’s back reassuringly. “What was it about?”

Link shifted a little on his lap, and suddenly Abel felt the boy’s weight change, increasing rapidly. Caught off guard, he glanced down and saw Link, bloodied and broken and burnt, one eye swollen shut, the other bloodshot from exhaustion and exertion, a small chunk of flesh torn off his neck as it oozed blood from the one spot that hadn’t been cauterized by an energy beam. Abel jumped, nearly dropping his boy, horrified at the sight.

“You didn’t get to me in time,” Link said accusingly. “And I died because of it.”

Abel gasped as he awoke, scrambling for reality, heart in his throat. He whipped his head to the right and his eyes immediately fell on his teenage son, oblivious to the world around him. Neither eye was swollen any longer, though Abel had only glanced at their cerulean hue for a few minutes in the past ten years. Had they been bloodshot when they’d opened yesterday? His neck bore the traces of a burn, reddened and somewhat swollen but at least fully intact.

The former knight sighed and dropped his head to the ground, closing his eyes as he collected himself.

Slowly, after a few calming breaths, Abel opened his eyes and sat up, pulling Link up with him. Tilieth was still fast asleep on Link’s other side, bundled under the blankets they’d packed, her brow slightly furrowed in discomfort as the family slept on the floor of the shrine.

With Link settled on his lap, held loosely in place by his left arm, Abel sifted through their bags to find some water. Stew would be best as it could provide some nutrition for the teenager as well, but nothing was prepared and Abel’s growing anxiety would not wait for breakfast. Grabbing a flask of water, he shook Link slightly, whispering softly to him. In previous shrines, getting a spirit orb had shown some sign of improvement in Link, but Abel couldn’t discern any notable changes in his son since they’d completed this shrine, and it was making him grow worried.

Despite multiple prompts and his voice growing ever louder, Abel was unable to make Link even stir. Tilieth eventually awoke with his attempts, sitting up and throwing an uneasy look in his direction.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“He won’t wake up,” Abel answered pitifully, as if this hadn’t been an issue before. Being able to get some water into the boy yesterday had given him hope for their journey, but now he couldn’t get Link to react, even briefly. Had it just been a fluke?

Abel shook his head. There was no way Link was getting worse, was there?

This was foolish and he knew it, wasn’t it? Link hadn’t even flinched throughout all their jostling yesterday. Maybe the boy just needed more sleep. He’d barely awoken for them yesterday, but… Abel had hoped it meant he was improving quickly.

Of course he’d been wrong.

Tilieth reached out, her hand settling on Link’s forehead, and Abel shook his head. “I’m sorry. It… maybe we’ll be able to give him some water later in the day.”

“There’s a river outside the shrine,” Til suggested as she stretched. “Maybe a cool bath will wake him up a little.”

Abel supposed that was possible. Til made a simple breakfast for the pair, and Abel went outside first to clear any monsters before bringing Link to the water. There was a small group of bokoblins just down the hill by the shore, and he dealt with them swiftly. With so many beasts around, though, he was beginning to consider wearing his old knight armor; he hadn’t been keen on doing so due to its cumbersome nature while carrying Link and had been wearing a warm doublet and trousers instead.

Sighing, Abel was temporarily distracted at the sight of a chest that the bokoblins had been apparently guarding. Opening it, he felt his stomach churn at the sight of what was inside.

A soldier’s bow.

Abel suddenly felt enraged. These monsters were pillaging the bodies of the fallen, combing through their homes and stealing their weapons to further Ganon’s chaotic agenda?! The very thought of such a desecration happening all over Hyrule nearly made him sick to his stomach.

He turned to further maim or burn the bodies of the creatures he’d slain only to find them disintegrating into dust and smoke, as all fell beasts did when Ganon had no more use for them.

Abel spat into the ground, marching back over to the shrine. After telling Til that the coast was clear, he kept watch while she cleaned herself and Link, using the bow he’d just acquired to pick off a stray bokoblin in the distance. As his eyes trailed the shoreline on the other side of the river, his gaze settled on two guardians sitting seemingly innocently on the ground, and he felt his breath catch at the sight of them.

If they’d been active he’d have known by now. They would have fired when he’d first attacked the pack of bokoblins. It didn't make him feel any less uneasy, though.

“I’m surprised Proxim Bridge held up as well as it did, considering how many guardians were crossing it back then.” Tilieth remarked from beneath the bridge. Then he heard her gasp slightly, and he slid on the slick rocks to get to her. Before he could ask what was wrong, she pointed to the water flowing on the other side of the bridge. “There’s a chest in the water, look!”

Abel sighed in exasperation. “Til, the amount of debris around here shouldn’t be a surprise to you.”

“It’s intact,” Tilieth noted. “Let me see if there’s something useful inside.”

Abel spluttered in protest as his wife swam over into plain view, unable to stop her as she gently pushed Link towards him. His son was unphased, floating peacefully in the cool, clear water as his father held him afloat.

Tilieth reached the floating wooden chest, struggling a little to open it while swimming in the water. When she’d tried and failed three times, Abel called out to her. “Til, for the love of Hylia, get back over here! I can’t protect you from there!”

His wife was clearly growing frustrated with her lack of progress and swam to the rocky shore, climbing up and walking back towards their supplies underneath the bridge. Abel lost sight of her for a moment and then heard her scream.

Every nerve in his body fired in response, and he hastily tucked Link under the bridge and grabbed the bow and an arrow, knowing he probably couldn’t get within arm’s reach in time. When he leapt over the rocky wall of the bridge, he loosed an arrow at a brown figure near his wife and then felt a yell of shock and horror tear out of his throat immediately after.

The Hylian turned in time to see the arrow slam into his shoulder, and he hit the ground with a cry of pain.

Oh shit, Abel’s mind screamed. Shit, that’s a Hylian, an actual Hylian!

Tilieth slid under the bridge to hide, both horrified at being caught in such a state of undress and at what had just happened. Abel found himself at a loss for words.

It hadn’t occurred to either of them that they’d run into living, breathing people before they got to Kakariko.

“Zomi!” another voice cried, and Abel turned sharply to his left, seeing someone running towards him across the bridge, blade already raised.

Abel felt his mind numb as he nocked another arrow, and then Til was in view again, a green tunic covering her to her mid thighs. She waved frantically in the air. “Stop, wait!! My husband was just trying to protect me, we didn’t mean any harm!”

The Hylian on the ground grunted. “Feels pretty harmful to me.”

“You’re one of those thieves, aren’t you?!” the foreign woman yelled accusingly, raising her sword to point at Abel. “You think you can just attack anyone who is trying to travel?! Get away from my brother!”

“We’re not thieves,” Til replied, a little bemused at the branding. “We’re just…”

His wife trailed off, glancing at Abel uncertainly. Abel supplied, “We’re travelers.”

Finally, the former knight lowered his weapon, though he was still too addled to get near the injured Hylian. The woman grew hesitant with his action, uncertain of his intention. With the pause that it created, Abel managed to catch his breath and knelt beside the man. “I’m… sorry. My wife yelled and I—”

“Reacted,” Zomi grunted as he shifted uncomfortably. “Good thing you caught yourself in midshot, eh? Though I—Hylia above, this hurts… I’d really like to get this out.”

Abel bit his lip. He hadn’t changed the trajectory of his aim at all. He didn’t have the heart to tell the man the only reason he was alive was because archery was not Abel’s strength.

He couldn’t even fathom the fact that the only reason he hadn’t just murdered a man was because his aim was off.

“We can’t pull it out, you’ll bleed more,” Tilieth protested as the Hylian woman rushed over to the injured man.

“We have something for that,” the woman said dismissively as she reached for the arrow. Her brother hissed in pain as she braced, her brow furrowed in worry.

Abel put a hand on her shoulder. “Let me pull it out. It’ll be faster.”

“You’ve already hurt him enough!” she snapped.

“Hisal, please,” her brother pleaded, his voice shaking. “Let him do it.”

Hisal frowned, clearly not wanting to listen, but she backed off nonetheless, reaching into her large travel pack. Abel took a deep breath, putting one hand on Zomi’s shoulder and the other on the arrow. Then he pulled hard, leaving the stranger screaming as Tilieth looked away, slipping under the bridge to check on Link.

The sister shoved a bottle in her brother’s face, and he drank quickly, coughing a little on it as he groaned in pain. Once he was finished downing the contents of whatever concoction he was given, he laid on the ground, panting for air and sweaty, but… not bleeding. Abel glanced at the wound and saw that it was little more than a divot in his skin.

Abel looked at Hisal, amazed. “How did you do that?”

“Fairy,” she explained.

Abel grew confused. “Fairy? Those are exceedingly rare. And I didn’t see a fairy in that bottle.”

“If you cook them, they have healing properties.”

Abel’s mouth snapped shut. Somehow that seemed… wrong to cook such creatures. Weren’t they supposed to be gifts from the goddesses?

He didn’t comment. It wasn’t as if the goddesses had spared much after the calamity. People had to make do.

Maybe they could find some fairies too.

Tilieth appeared once more, wearing trousers and throwing her light blonde curly hair into a messy bun as she almost always did. “What are you two even doing here?”

“We were trying to make the pathway safer for travelers,” Hisal said as she helped her brother sit up. “People are slowly starting to try to venture out of their homes again. If we could make contact with others then maybe we can help each other out. But there are plenty whose homes were destroyed during the calamity and have been living out in the wilds. Some make do, but a lot try to jump people for supplies. It’s dangerous to travel anywhere right now.”

“So you’re… clearing the path?” Abel tried to surmise, growing tense. Had this Zomi person been about to attack Til, then?

Zomi rotated his arm a little, testing it as he grimaced slightly. “We’re building a shelter on the other side of the bridge. A place of refuge for weary travelers. I saw someone under the bridge and went to investigate. I’m… sorry for the scare.”

Abel’s tension drained out of him, and he slowly rose. “I believe I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

“Where are you two from?” Tilieth asked, prolonging the conversation (unnecessarily, his mind added).

“Palmorae Village,” Zomi answered after a moment, sighing. “What’s left of it.”

There was a heavy silence in the air after that. Abel glanced around uneasily, wanting to check on Link though he knew Til had just done so. Clearing his throat, he said, “Well, you stumbled onto my wife as she was finishing up a bath, but I’m afraid I still have to clean up, so perhaps you two can get back to whatever you were building and we’ll leave each other in peace.”

His words fell on deaf ears, though, as the siblings stared off towards the shrine.

“Wasn’t it glowing orange yesterday?” Hisal wondered softly.

Zomi shook his head, glancing at Abel. “Sorry, we just… these things have popped up everywhere. People are taking it all kinds of ways. Have you seen the towers? They’re enormous and they came out of nowhere, and it’s got people freaked out. Like… some are saying it’s for the guardians.”

Abel nearly laughed, but he bit his tongue instead. As entertaining as others’ interpretation of the situation was, he and Til still had a mission to accomplish, and these two were stalling them.

Tilieth, on the other hand, was eager to speak. “Oh? Well, I don’t think it’s anything quite that foreboding. It could be a good sign.”

“That’s what I said,” Hisal muttered, nudging Zomi.

Abel was finally at the end of his patience and turned to go under the bridge. “Either way, be safe. I’m sorry about earlier.”

The apology felt significantly less sincere than it really had any right to be, but he hadn’t spoken to anyone aside from his wife (and recently a dead man) in the last ten years and had enough adrenaline in his system to make him want to scream. He had little idea or tolerance for such an interaction.

Zomi noticed the finality in his tone and huffed a small, sheepish laugh, patting his sister on the shoulder. “Yes, I suppose we should get back to what we were doing. I… good luck to you two.”

With that, the siblings uneasily made their way across the bridge, dipping around the other end and climbing down an embankment. Abel immediately let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and rushed under the bridge to check on Link.

“You almost killed him,” Til said shakily as she followed him. “I–goddess, what if–I didn’t even think about—”

“I noticed,” Abel said flatly before adding with a sigh, “I didn’t think about it either.”

His train of thought derailed when he got to Link and saw the boy grimacing and shivering. Abel hastened his steps and knelt beside his son, quickly wrapping him in a larger cloak to dry him off. Til noticed his furrowed brow and immediately grabbed a water flask as Abel tried to coax him awake.

“Link,” he whispered, giving his son a little shake. “Open your eyes.”

Hylia, please, Abel prayed as he brushed damp locks of hair out of his boy’s face. “Wake up.”

Link looked like he truly was trying, but his furrowed brow started to relax, the crinkles around his eyes smoothed out, and he started to grow limp in his father’s hold. Tilieth let out a panicked little cry as Abel shook him again, but neither parent could rouse their child.

Abel sighed heavily. “Let’s just get him dressed and get going.”

Breakfast was simple and somber, and the couple was on their way soon enough. A quick scan from Abel ensured that the siblings they’d encountered were nowhere in sight as they crossed the bridge, though building materials were stacked to the side. As an afterthought, Til grabbed the slate and made an ice pillar to finally reach the treasure chest she’d been investigating, and she pulled a purple rupee from it.

“All of that for a purple rupee,” Abel sighed. At least it was more useful than amber.

Honestly, the more he thought about it the more he realized that if there truly were so many survivors, they had a fairly significant problem.

They were broke.

The thought was only a brief concern. They’d survived off the land long enough, he supposed. They didn’t need to buy from anyone. He looked distractedly to his left as Til returned, feeling his son’s legs sway by his sides, and saw the wrecked remains of a distant stable.

He wondered just how many people had actually ventured outside of their home towns and villages. He wondered how many towns and villages were even left.

Focus, he told himself, shaking his head. He hadn’t had these thoughts since the early years.

As the pair made their way on the path, the dueling peaks loomed steadily closer. Abel remembered when it used to be a comforting sight on his journeys home, when he was allowed time off duty. Except… there was something distinctly different.

There was a tower beside them!

“Didn’t you say the tower on the plateau let you map out the area on the slate?” Tilieth noted.

“I did,” Abel answered slowly, wondering if it was worth the climb. He knew this area like the back of his hand, after all.

Then again, the tower could have more to offer the slate. If nothing else, it would give him a good view to survey the region. It had been a decade - things changed.

“I‘ll climb it,” his wife said, catching him off guard. At his surprised expression, she added, “You're carrying Link. I don’t want you to get tired.”

“Til, that’s a hell of a climb.”

“I’ve got it,” she insisted, waving the slate. “Let’s get closer.”

A small monster encampment was just north of them, and it didn’t take much for Abel to eliminate it. The treasure they guarded was an opal, to Abel’s relief and Tilieth’s delight. His wife started to pick through the trail as well, finding herbs and berries and nuts and even snails on the shoreline at one point.

“Is that really necessary?” He asked as she stuffed a freshly caught butterfly into her pouch.

“It could come in handy,” she said lightly with a cheery smile.

The highlight of her strange fascinations was when she shoved a rock into a curiously formed hole and then smiled at the air above it, holding out her hand.

Abel stared at her in bemusement. “What are you doing?”

Til’s smile faltered a little as she looked at him, and then her eyes dulled a little with sadness before she shrugged and returned to the path ahead. “I’ll explain later.”

The tower itself was adjacent to a monster camp that rivaled the large one by the River of the Dead. Abel had practically gone to war with the beasts there a few times, keeping their numbers fairly low. Here, there were…

Wait a minute. Were those people?

Abel froze, and Tilieth nearly ran into him with a yelp. Then she tensed as she recognized them too.

“Is… why does that look like a monster camp?” she asked quietly, her voice tight.

“I think they took over it.”

“So… that’s a good thing, right?” Tilieth asked, and a part of Abel despised that it even had to be a question. Given their last interaction, it was possible, but…

But Abel wasn’t a trusting man. Not anymore.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “Best to assume it isn’t. That man spoke of dangerous people on the road.”

“But… they would have passed them, wouldn’t they?”

That was a fair point. It didn’t make Abel feel any better, though. He didn’t want them to see Link.

“Let’s backtrack,” Abel said. “We—”

“Wait,” Til interrupted, staring at the shore. “Maybe there’s an alternative.”

Abel watched his wife tiptoe towards the shoreline, staring at a spot just by the water. When he examined where she was looking, he saw only the same rock that covered the rest of the shore. She reached down as if to pick up a stone and then jumped slightly, her hand shooting back as if it had been burnt.

Confused, he approached slowly, very aware that they were steadily creeping into the line of sight of the camp. “Til, what are you doing?”

“I think I can find a safe path across the river,” Tilieth said. “We both can cross.”

“I can’t swim with Link on my back like this,” Abel immediately. “This current is too strong.”

“We’re not swimming,” Tilieth replied with a mischievous smile, pulling out the slate. “Follow me. With that, his wife started creating ice pillars to cross. Abel watched them warily. They were… fairly easy to traverse, but they were still made of ice. He’d barely managed to not slip when they’d first started using it in the snow shrine. And if they fell into the river…

Sighing, he watched as Til easily slid across three pillars to reach a little island where the stone tore out of the earth higher than the water could cover. They weren’t quite in view of the camp from here. He followed his wife, wondering why she again stopped on the rock and reached for something only to stop midway, but he didn’t bother voicing the question. They continued with this pattern until they were nearly all the way across the river. Then Tilieth smiled and held out her hand, her palm closing as if she’d grabbed something.

“Caught another bug?” Abel surmised, catching his breath after leaping across the river with Link in tow.

“Something like that,” Til said softly, her smile brightened by her flushed cheeks. Then she pointed ahead. “We’re almost at the tower!”

She wasn’t wrong. From here they could just hop to another rock and then they’d be at the shore again. Tilieth hastily ran ahead, climbing up some rocks that helped her reach nearly halfway up the tower.

“Be careful!” Abel called a little worriedly before settling Link on the ground. As he examined his boy, he noticed a little blood stain on Link’s trousers, right around where the strap of the harness would be. Feeling his gut clench a little, he slid them down to look and see the damage he suspected was happening.

The harness was hurting him. Because of course it was. It wasn’t as if something could go well for any of them. It wasn’t as if Link couldn’t just wake up, and—

Abel bit his lip, reaching into his bag for what little medical supplies they’d packed as he cleaned the pressure wounds. There was no sense in complaining about it. He just had to deal with it. Just like he dealt with everything else.

There was a yell of excitement and Abel looked up and nearly had a heart attack as his wife practically landed on top of them, their glider guiding her descent. Before he even had a chance to speak, Tilieth was immediately rambling with excitement.

“Honey, there was another upgrade to the slate, it has a sensor that can track shrines, we can find any shrine anywhere now and—why are Link’s pants pulled down? Did he make a mess? Why—is that blood? What happened?!”

Abel held up a hand in a desperate attempt to make his wife at least pause for breath so he could explain, and then her words registered. “A sensor? The slate can find shrines?”

Tilieth’s distress was evident when she started to speak again, so Abel hastily redressed their son and explained, “It’s the harness, Til. There wasn’t an attack. Tell me about the sensor.”

Tilieth bit her lip, anxiety sketched into every crease of her pinched face, and then she determinedly pulled out the slate. “If we follow the beeping, it’ll lead us to shrines. It’s already picked up on one nearby.”

Abel ignored how his stomach growled in protest while the midday sun hung heavily overhead. He was suddenly filled with energy at the sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, something was finally going well today. Carefully slipping the harness back on Link, he rose with his son. “Then let’s get going.”

Tilieth rushed ahead, leaving Abel to run to keep up with her. At first they climbed a few rocks and then started to trace a path around the mountain. Then Til paused so abruptly Abel crashed right into her.

“Til, what the—”

“The signal stopped,” she interjected, a little worried. “Let’s try again.”

Turning around, Tilieth brushed by Abel, who followed her hesitantly, his brow steadily crinkling together. He heard the little slate chirping more frantically as they moved, and Tilieth picked up the pace once more.

And then she stopped again.

“Til—”

“It keeps disappearing.” She said, squinting at the screen. “I think… honey, I think we have to climb.”

You’ve got to be kidding me.

He shouldn’t have been surprised at this point.

Shaking his head, he said, “Well, if it means we can find a shrine, then let’s go.”

The couple looked upward, sizing up the mountain. There were perches for them to cling to, but it wasn’t going to be a pleasant experience. Abel’s gut churned; if Til lost her grip, there was nothing he could do to catch her. He didn’t like this.

Then again, they had little choice in the matter. And she had the paraglider, so there was that.

Slowly but surely, the two started to climb, emboldened by the repeated encouragement from the slate.

And then, halfway up the mountain, it stopped.

“What happened?” Abel asked, growing a little concerned and more than a little frustrated.

“We lost the signal,” Tilieth muttered, carefully looking at the slate as sweat poured off her forehead. “But… it didn’t… this doesn’t make sense…”

“Maybe we should just bomb our way through the mountain,” Abel grumbled.

“No, we have to figure this out!” Tilieth argued. Abel noticed with worry that her arm was visibly trembling.

“We will,” he insisted. “But let’s reach the top first.”

The pair continued on, and Abel quickly realized how completely idiotic of a suggestion that had been. There was absolutely no way they were reaching the top. Thankfully, though, there were outcroppings where they could stop and rest. By the time Abel dragged himself onto stable, even ground, his body gave out altogether, leaving him in a crumpled pile lying prone in the grass while Link slowly crushed the air out of him. Tilieth wasn’t of much help as she was splayed out on her back beside him, panting.

“Why—is there—a shrine—in the middle—of the mountain?” she asked between breaths.

“Why can’t that damn sensor figure out where the hell we’re supposed to go?” Abel snapped. “It has to be broken.”

Til groaned as she pushed herself into a seated position and gently coaxed Abel to lie on his side so she could get Link out of the harness. A steady rain started to coat the area, washing their sweat away along with any chance of continuing their climb anytime soon. Sighing, Abel finally crawled over to Link and pulled him close so he could shield him from the rain. He could already feel his boy shivering a little under him.

“I’m going to look around,” Tilieth resolved tiredly. “Maybe I can figure this sensor out.”

Abel didn’t bother to throw his two rupees in on the matter. Instead, he carried Link and found a tree to serve as somewhat tolerable shelter, and then he started rifling through their bag to see if Til had any elixir. They’d promised to not use any unless absolutely necessary, but if he couldn’t get Link to wake up long enough to sip more than two gulps of water, he’d need one soon enough.

Speaking of which, he should try to wake him again. At least Link was reacting to his surroundings once more. Every fiber of his being screamed in protest as Abel pulled Link into his lap and shook him a little, and his stomach was so tight he felt nauseous.

Maybe he should eat something too.

The ground shook, and Abel heard Tilieth call for him frantically.

Propping Link by the tree, he immediately grabbed his sword and ran to find his wife, only to find…

Only to find a stone talus.

Tilieth was miniscule in front of the monstrosity, running for her life to get to Abel.

“TILIETH!” he called.

The stone talus took an enormous step and Tilieth screamed, dodging its feet within the last second. She managed to reach Abel just to slam into him, and he nearly fell over before whirling around to drag her away.

His mind screamed a million different things at once. Where would they go?! How would they get Link to safety?!

Someone had to distract the beast.

Just as Abel shouted a command to his wife, she dragged him to the tree and pointed at Link. “Pick him up, we have to climb!”

“It’ll pick us off before we can ever get anywhere! It needs to be distracted,” Abel shook his head, throwing the harness to her. “Get him out of here!”

“No!” Til shouted as the ground shook again, the beast looming just around the corner. “Climb the tree! Remember the little taluses on the plateau? As long as they couldn’t see us they’d go back to their resting place. They’re even dumber than bokoblins, Abel!”

“You—you want to hide in the tree—”

“Come on!”

Well there wasn’t any stopping her. Abel quickly switched strategies, pulling Link onto his back and hastily clamoring into the branches. It appeased Til long enough for him to try to come up with a new strategy.

The stone talus loomed into view and then paused just a step away from them. It swiveled its stone body a few times as if looking for them. Abel and Tilieth held their breath.

A bird squawked beside them, making Til yelp. Another bird at the outcropping across from them flew off, startled. The movement caught the talus’ attention, and suddenly Abel’s world shifted and any stabilizing force holding the tree together fell apart as the talus picked up the tree and tossed it high into the sky.

Both parents yelled in horror as they flew through the air. The tree was steadily stripped of its leaves until Abel could see a clear view of ground underneath him - they’d cleared the mountain peak entirely. If they held onto the tree any longer they’d fall right back down into the river far below.

Assuming they didn’t hit the rocks first.

“Let go!” he shouted.

“What?!”

“Let—go!!”

Tilieth screamed but obeyed, and the two hit the ground hard before rolling a little ways. The tree continued straight over the cliffside, splintering on the ground far, far below.

The stone talus was nowhere in sight. Nor were any landmarks, until Abel looked around over the cliffside, dizzy and disoriented.

They were on the top of the mountain.

The air was considerably colder, wind howling against his face and stinging his cheeks. The biting chill was a slap of reality to the face, and he gasped, unfastening the harness just as Tilieth helped pull Link off him.

Their boy was bruised, with some blood leaking out of his nose, but none the worse for it. Though he was clearly cringing in pain.

“Link, oh Link, baby I’m so sorry,” Tilieth sobbed, holding the boy. “I was just trying to figure out where the sensor was leading, the talus came out of nowhere—”

Abel put a hand on Til’s shoulder, too out of breath to comfort with words, when the slate chirped.

“That damn thing,” he snapped, getting ready to grab it and throw it when Tilieth gasped and pointed behind him.

Turning, he saw a shrine glowing at the very top of the mountain, nestled between two stone formations that looked like pillars.

On the other blasted mountain.

Abel was going to lose his mind. He was. He really, truly was.

Gritting his teeth, he took a steadying breath, his chest burning both inside and out as his ribs protested against movement while his lungs protested against the dryer air.

Shooting to his feet, Abel swayed in place and nearly fell back over, but he spread his feet a little to plant himself into the ground as Tilieth hurried to steady him. He stormed away from the twin mountain, away from his wife, and away from his son.

“Abel, where are you going?” Til asked shakily.

Abel waved a hand over his head, beyond words. His ribs hurt too much to talk anyway, and he was ready to go off.

The only way this day could get worse was if Link didn’t wake up at least once to drink something, and that seemed a likely possibility considering getting catapulted into the air didn’t rouse him.

Tilieth’s tear—filled call made him pause, and he clenched his fists, trying and failing to calm down. He wasn’t mad at her. He wasn’t mad at anyone.

Well. Maybe he was a little mad at Hylia. Maybe that was why they were getting pulverized like this.

What was it that they used to say back in the day? Trust the goddess?

Abel scoffed. Trusting in the goddess got Hyrule destroyed. Her royal bloodline had failed Hyrule and his son.

Yet he had failed Link just as badly, if not worse.

Abel’s knee suddenly gave out, and he yelped as he face-planted into the damp grass. His body felt like it was on fire and he couldn’t even tell if it was from pain or the pure frustrated rage that was about to tear out of his throat.

Instead, he took a shuddering breath and slowly sat up. Glancing back where he’d walked away, he saw Tilieth sitting on the ground with Link’s head in her lap as she rocked him slowly. He couldn’t see her face from where he was, but he could see her shaking.

The former knight sighed, drained of his anger and filled with hopelessness and exhaustion. Slowly, he rose to go back to his family and offer what little support he had left in him. When he approached, Tilieth looked at him, her cheeks stained with tears.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, barely audible over the wind.

“This isn’t your fault.” I’m sorry too.

Abel knelt beside her, slowly and gingerly wrapping an arm around her as he helped cradle Link. The wind blew harder, making both parents shiver in the cold, and it blew a few pebbles over the side of the mountain.

Only for them to bounce against something that was distinctly not stone.

Both Til and Abel glanced in the direction of the drop where the rocks had just fallen before looking at each other with curiosity and, in Til’s case, the smallest glimmer of hope. His wife rose first, leaving Link in his care, and Abel watched her walk as he held his son tightly.

Tilieth gasped and quickly said, “Abel! Abel there’s a shrine here! Just under the cliff!”

Though his joints were stiffening from the bitterly chilly wind and the cool moisture seeping into his clothes from the ground, Abel still had a little energy left to lift Link and follow his wife. Just as she proclaimed, a shrine sat waiting innocently for them just a little slide away.

There were two shrines. Twin shrines for the twin peaks.

Abel let out a weak, tired laugh, his breath carried away by the gusts.

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s get Link’s spirit orbs.”

#it's 5am I'll add the previousnext/first links later lol #sleepyyyy #anyway #how many different ways can I torture Abel in one chapter?#yes #in my defense the talus wasn't planned #it just happened #and hiding in a tree actually worked LOL #and then I decided to give the parents a break and jus tlaunched them to the top of the mountain #they didn't appreciate it #ungrateful blorbos #I'm really hoping I found the correct shrine first because I know one's dependent on the other lol #if I found the wrong one first Abel's going to freaking kill me #like he almost killed some poor innocent Hylian #who was trying to build the little shelter that Link uses 90 years later in the game #anybody else ever wonder why there's an abandoned monster camp by the dueling peaks because I do #writing #link's parents play botw #blood of the hero #breath of the wild #breath of the wild link #botw link #tilieth #abel #legend of zelda

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asuiru · 5 months ago

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i win

this is so funny

#right after i took this screenshot the last knight flew up in the air and almost wiped my team but i saved it lol #borrowed a max mostima who is not on my friends list :( so no masteries #someone who actually knows the last knights mechanics could probably have first tried this with my team but #when chapter 11 first came out i was burnt out and afk guided that back half lol #why are exu and sa there? moral support :) they almost killed me tho #ak

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celestie0 · 3 months ago

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gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch3. domestic encounters

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, n have been taking care of your sick mom ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, mild love triangle(s), gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 3/x (probably 10)

ᰔ word count. 14.1k (i like this number)

a/n. hello hellooo my ihm bb's :'') so good to see you all again. so this is actually the first half of an original 26k word chapter 3 that i had written lmfaooo i genuinely entertained the idea of posting a 26k word chapter but like gat damn. idk i thought it would be too much. so there is this first part which is 14k and then the next chapter will be 12k! anywho, this chapter was fun to write, there's still a lot of set-up tho hahah. ihm has been really fun to write for me cuz it's kinda chaotic but chill at the same time lol :0 i really hope you enjoy!! see ya at the bottom!!

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 (pending)

“Soooo…..ready to consummate the marriage?”

You turn fast on your heel, so fast that Gojo almost trips over his own Welcome mat at his doorstep in an attempt to not accidentally topple over you, which you’re sure by the sheer size he has on you would’ve killed you or at the very least paralyzed you from the neck down, so it’s a good thing his hands fly out of his pockets then brace himself on the wood paneling above the door.

“Wha–” you stutter, “what?!”

He stands up straight before leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms, the sleeve fabric of his suit stretching across thick muscle but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of looking. “The marriage technically isn’t valid unless we consummate it.”

You roll your eyes and dig your finger into your heel to take it off and then do the same with your other, relishing in the freedom of your feet from the shackles of constrictive feminine clothing articles, although you’re a solid two and a half inches shorter again. “I would rather make love to one of those inflatable balloon salesmen at car dealerships that flail and flap around in the wind than let you touch me for the purpose of sex.”

“Fuck that’s harsh,” he laughs, like he’s genuinely impressed by the comeback this time, “so a dead bedroom then, huh?”

“Can’t be dead if it was never alive in the first place,” you mumble as you tread into his house and toss the documents envelope you had been holding onto the coffee table. You hear Gojo make his way across the hardwood floor behind you paired with the metal clanking of keys as he throws them into the paper mache bowl on the foyer table.

“By the way,” you hear him say, and you turn your torso slightly to side eye him only to see that he’s casually taking his suit jacket off with a flip of it backwards, “who was that guy in the courtroom that was glaring daggers into my soul?”

Your eyes widen briefly. And then you sigh. “My ex.”

He pulls the jacket off behind him by the sleeves and tosses it onto the loveseat. “Huhhh. You used to date a cop? You don’t seem like the type.”

“What?” you say as you face him fully. He’s loosening his tie now with a tug. “Why not?”

“You’re kinda…delinquent. Figured a cop would like a more ‘docile’ woman,” he says.

“You sound creepy as fuck,” you say, grimacing a little as you narrow your eyes at him.

He sighs before tossing his tie off to the side as well. “I don’t agree with it. I’m just getting into their headspace. Everyone knows how cops are. Y’know, controlling.”

“Choso is different,” you immediately spat back at him, before your head can even run the words through a filter, and you realize it came off as defensive. Your cheeks warm, because now it looks like you’re not over your ex. And you want to be. Why were you still protecting Choso’s dignity?

Gojo blinks at you, a little surprised before he swallows slowly and he holds his hands up in front of him in surrender. “Alright. I believe you.”

You turn away from him and worry your bottom lip between your teeth, feeling awkward before you scratch your elbow and then turn back to face him again. “Well. If you run into him around town,” you say, “can you try to make him feel emasculated and jealous? He did me dirty.”

Gojo runs a hand through his hair. “Uhhh. How?”

“I dunno,” you shrug, “brag about how great our sex life is or something.”

“But we have a sexless marriage.”

“Oh, yes, speaking of this sexless marriage,” you start, jutting your hip out to the side as you cross your arms sternly, “there are some ground rules that need to be set between you and I.” You point between the two of you.

“Ground rules?” he mimics after you as he undoes the top couple buttons of his white dress shirt, “like what?”

You hold a finger up. “Like no touching.” You hold another finger up. “Obviously, no sex.” You hold another finger up. “No sneaking into my room in the middle of the night.” You hold another finger up. “No peeping in on me while I’m showering.” You hold another finger up. “No ogling me around the hou–”

“These rules sound incredibly one-sided,” he snorts.

“Yeah, well, don’t break them, you creep.”

“And if I catch you ogling me around the house?” he asks.

You roll your eyes. “Such a thing will not happen.”

“Uh-huh, uh-huh,” he sarcastically affirms, and he approaches you which makes you flinch a little but you realize he’s just walking past you towards the living room.

“Y–” you stutter, “you heard me, right? Once I start living here, you have to adhere to these rules.”

He waves his hand in the air dismissively with his back facing you. “Yes ma’am.”

Your eye twitches slightly, and you storm towards him only to watch him slump down onto his couch, knees spread wide as he leans forward with a small grunt to grab the remote off the coffee table before settling back again. He lays an arm up and stretched across the backrest of the couch before he turns the TV on and scrolls through news channels.

You make your way in front of him, obstructing the view of the TV, and he leans off to the side to try to catch a glimpse at the screen but you reposition your body so that he still can’t see it. His eyes slowly move to you and he has an irritated look on his face.

“I’m tryna watch CNN,” he says.

“Punishment,” you say, “for breaking any of these rules will be severe.”

He raises an eyebrow, interested all of a sudden as he tosses the remote back onto the coffee table and leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees. “Oh? What’s the punishment?”

Honestly, you don’t know. You just want to threaten him to keep him in line. Forget the fact that he’s the one doing you the favor here with this marital arrangement, and yet you’re threatening him. But it has to be done. “You don’t want to find out,” you say, trying to sound as eerie as possible.

“Not knowing what it is makes me want to find out,” he tells you, his knee swaying side to side like a dog wagging its tail.

You briefly glance down, and for fucks sake why is all of his clothing so perfectly fit and stretched taut whenever he does anything? You try not to eye the shape of his thighs as the black fabric stretches while he’s seated.

You clench your fists at your side, worry your bottom lip under your front teeth, furrow your brow and blink rapidly from not being able to come up with something to say, and Gojo seems to read this as worry before he laughs a little.

“Don’t worry,” he says, “I’m not gonna break any of your silly rules, despite how tempting it might sound to me.”

“I don’t believe you,” you mutter as you walk around the couch towards the kitchen, feeling thirsty all of a sudden.

“Seriously. I won’t. You’re not my type,” he says from behind you on the couch, with a tone that tells you he’s trying to sound reassuring but it really just pisses you off even more, “I don’t really go after women with daddy issues.”

“Wha–” you gasp, offended, and you spin on your heel to glare at the back of his head. “Who the fuck said I have daddy issues?!?!”

“No one has to say it, I can feel it,” he says as he continues to clicks through channels.

You pick an avocado up out of the pile of fruits from the bowl at the center of the island, holding it over your shoulder to charge up as much kinetic energy as possible so you can chuck it at him hard enough to knock him unconscious, and it’s like he senses the malice radiating off of your body because he looks over his shoulder at you.

“What’s that in your hand?” he asks.

“A grenade,” you say, “that I’m gonna launch at you.”

“Oh, thank god,” he exhales in relief, “I almost thought it was an avocado for a second.”

You deadpan stare at him. “I don't find you funny.”

“I think I’m pretty funny,” he says mindlessly, like he’s just arguing with you for the sake of arguing.

“No. I have never once laughed at a single thing you’ve ever said. Only grimaced with disgust,” you say.

He sighs. “Look at us. We’ve barely been married for an hour and we’re already fighting.”

You abandon your empty glass on the counter, shuffling around the corner towards the front entrance of the house because you can feel the headache from your pure annoyance starting to creep up on you. You sense Gojo’s eyes on you from the couch as you shove your feet back into the uncomfortableness of your heels.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“Back to my house,” you grumble, wobbling a little when you take a step towards the door and place your hand on the handle.

“When are you gonna move in?” he asks suddenly.

You freeze in your tracks at his question. You’ve never heard the question before, because you’ve never had the chance to live anywhere that wasn’t your childhood home next door. So the question is jarring at best, and threatens to make you cry a little at worst.

“Once I get my mom into hospice,” you say, quiet enough to where it’s possible he might not have even been able to hear it over the sound of presidential election updates. And then you make your way out of his house.

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

It’s a beautiful sunny spring morning, clouds trailing by across the sky offering momentary relief from the heat reaching the pavement, and you’ve got a good marching band walk going on as you stroll down the sidewalk of your neighborhood for your morning walk. Well, that phrase implies that you go on morning walks often. You really don’t, you very rarely have the time or energy. But today you decided it was time to turn your life around (your running shoes will see you same time next month).

You hear some commotion off at the right side of the street, and when you lift your head up a little to clear the obstructed view of your sun visor, you see a couple of cops standing on a lawn, chatting up your elderly women neighbors with their laughter bolstering in the air. One of the cops turns around, making eye contact with you, and— of fucking course, it’s Choso.

“Oh, fuck me,” you mutter under your breath and try to walk faster down the sidewalk in Korean ahjumma style.

“Hey! y/n! Wait!” you hear him call out and he jogs across the street to catch up with you.

You continue to military march down pavement. “What do you want, Choso? Why are you stalking me?”

He runs up in front of you to stop you in your tracks. You frown at him and cross your arms across your chest. “I’m not stalking you,” he says, “I got a call about a stray dog out here.”

“Oh. Wonderful. So glad to know our officers are keeping us safe from cute street dogs,” you say, tone dripping with sarcasm.

“The dog had rabies. It bit an old man. Had to put it down,” he deadpans.

“O-Oh,” you stutter, cheeks flushing, “well, then, leave? Your job here is done.”

“I just—” he starts, “I want to—” He sighs, looking flustered like he’s trying to gain some sort of courage. And you’re almost entirely certain he didn’t need to garner this much courage to face a rabid dog than he seems to be needing for you. “I, uh, I want to meet your husband.”

“W-What??” you exasperate.

“To say congrats,” he says, but through gritted teeth.

You roll your eyes. “Yeah fucking right. You just wanna abuse your po-po powers to arrest him then throw him into jail then kill him to leave me widowed so that I’ll get back together with you and make a fool out of myself all over again.”

“Your capacity for catastrophization never fails to amaze me,” he says.

You’re pretty sure your therapist said something similar to you last week, too.

“Ahhh!! y/n!!” you hear a familiar feminine voice call from down the street, and both you and Choso turn your heads toward the source of the sound.

Amaya, your neighbor, who is roughly thirty-weeks pregnant at the moment and therefore waddling down the street to get to you, is waving her arms in the air as her husband as well as another one of your neighbors follows after her. She finally reaches you and takes your hands into hers. “I haven’t seen you in forever!! How’s your mom doing?”

“She’s doing well…just getting by,” you say awkwardly, as Choso’s cop partner also approaches this little group that’s forming here, along with the elderly neighbors that he had been talking to.

“Doctors taking good care of her?” Amaya’s husband, Ren, asks you with a twisted expression on his face and arms tightly crossed over his chest like he was gonna beat the doctors up if they weren’t.

“Yes…” you say, “although, I think I’ll be transferring her care to Kaiser.” Oh. Fuck. You should’ve kept that to yourself. Big mouth.

You can feel Choso’s eyes on you as he watches this interaction between you and your neighbors.

“Oh! That’s interesting,” Amaya says, and as her hands soothe over yours, she feels the bump of the ring on your left hand. She glances down. “H-Huh??? Is this a wedding ring?!”

Choso crosses his arms and tucks his hands under his armpits in your periphery.

“Y…yeeeeesss…” you say awkwardly.

“You’ve finally married?” your elderly neighbors chirp out at the same time.

You shoot them a dirty look over the word finally. “Yes.” Please drop the subject, please drop the subject.

But Amaya has always been the gossipy nosy neighbor. “To who??”

Choso snaps his face to you, intently studying your body language. You take a deep breath.

“I-I didn’t tell you?? I married Satoru!!” you chirp, as if it was a normal thing.

“Ehhh?!” you hear multiple of your neighbors’ voices call out.

“You married Satoru??? But you hate him!!” Amaya blurts out, her voice loud and echoing down the street of the neighborhood.

“I—” you stammer, ducking your head a little to hide behind your visor, “um, oh, y’know…those feelings just…snuck up on me!”

“Awwww good for youuu,” Amaya coos, and one of your elderly neighbors comes up to you with a cheeky smile to then rubs your arm approvingly, “he’s sooooo handsome, you’re so lucky!!”

Ren lets out a hmph over his wife’s flattery of another man, and you roll your eyes, wanting to put Gojo in his place even in the face of just your neighbors, but then you remember that a loving wife wouldn’t say something like his personality makes him an ugly rat.

“But when did this happen?” Choso’s partner speaks up, his voice accusatory. Choso hits his partner’s chest vest with the back of his hand, as if to say cut it out.

You feel pissed off at that.

“Oh yeahhh, you and Choso only recently broke up!” Amaya says, pointing between the two of you.

You purse your lips together from the anxiety of this entire conversation. “Three weeks ago. Choso and I broke up three weeks ago,” you say, not even sure why you’re disclosing your personal matters to this group of congregated people, but the peer pressure was damning, and you’re pretty sure silence on this subject in front of your neighbors would only make Choso more suspicious, “and—” you had to get your story straight, “well…within those three weeks, Satoru and I just…got to know each other.”

“Eh?” Ren speaks up. “But he was out of town for two weeks. He only came back a week and a half ago.”

You blink at him.

“Ohhh yes, yes, that’s right, honey,” Amaya agrees with a slow nod in remembrance as she pats her husband's chest, “those chocolates he brought us were from London, right?”

Choso tilts his head at you, giving you a glare with the intent of having you crack under this pressure, because you’ve just been caught in a cold hard lie. More importantly, how the fuck did you not notice that Satoru had been gone for TWO WEEKS??? He was your next door neighbor. You’ve seriously been so damn out of it these days. Also, why the fuck didn’t he get you chocolates from London?!?!?! The fucking snake.

“A marriage within three weeks is a little odd, no?” Choso’s partner speaks up, but with less of a casual conversation tone and more of a I sense something illegal going on here tone.

“Alright, alright, alright,” Choso sighs, taking a step to stand in front of you. “Let’s all get on with our days. She doesn’t have to share any information she doesn’t want to.”

You blink in surprise at Choso’s words, of which all your neighbors acknowledge albeit slightly reluctantly as they wave goodbye to you and start dispersing back to their homes. Choso’s partner gets some notice through his radio, and he pulls it from the velcro of his chest to speak into it before heading back to their cop car with a slight jog. Once everyone is gone and it’s just you and Choso again, he turns around to face you. His arms are still crossed at his chest while he wears a very skeptical and almost reprimanding look on his face.

“What are you up to, y/n?” he immediately asks you, and you feel goosebumps tickle your skin even in the heat. “I really hope it’s not something fishy. Or illegal.”

You swallow hard. You know the U.S. federal codes in the law for marital & insurance fraud like the back of your hand, since you read through them hundreds of times before deciding if your arrangement with Gojo would be worth it. 8 U.S.C. 1033 and 18 U.S.C. 371 provide for a penalty of up to ten years in prison for insurance fraud. And under that statute, you can also be fined up to $250,000. The best case scenario is that you just have to divorce Gojo, and forfeit your chances of ever recovering from your crippling debt. And while it’s hard to prove marital fraud, Choso had reason for a personal vendetta against you, and he has the resources to launch an investigation.

“Why would I do something illegal??” you ask, as if to convince him that the possibility was absurd.

He takes a step closer to you, and your breathing picks up. “People do illegal things all the time,” he says, “for the thrill, out of curiosity,” another step closer, “the most common reason that I’ve seen?” He’s so close to you now that you catch the familiar scent of his skin. “Desperation.”

You catch a small gasp of air from his imposition in your personal space, and finally, your weak legs manage to take you a step back.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about here,” you say with a shaky voice.

He raises an eyebrow at you. And then he sighs. “Stay out of trouble.”

Your eye twitches at him, annoyance resurging but you have to bite your tongue for self preservation. Gojo’s words about cops liking more docile women ring in your ears for a brief moment, and you have to physically shake your head to get his voice out of it.

His partner yells for him from his car, something about a call they got for a robbery downtown, and Choso spares you a warning look before he turns on his heel and jogs back to the car. The sound of police sirens mimic the panic in your beating heart as you watch them speed off down the street and out of sight.

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

You pull into your neighborhood at the early hours of the morning, skin feeling dry and eyes feeling heavy with exhaustion as you yank your hospital badge clip off your scrub top to toss onto the passenger seat along with your stethoscope, releasing it from your neck like pulling a noose loose.

Before your shift last night, you had to take your mom to the hospital because she was have shortness of breath, and her oxygen saturation was low on her pulse oximeter. She’s stable now, it was just yet another flare up of her COPD, but given her other risk factors, the hospitalist admitted her to monitor her overnight and through to the evening today if all goes well. Which meant that you could have the house to yourself for once. It might sound selfish to say, because shouldn’t the more dominant feeling be I hope my mom will be okay, but the reality was that there’s only so much of that worry you can have at a time. It doesn’t mean you’re not thinking of her literally every second of the day. It just means you’re human.

The weirdest thing about working the night shift is seeing everyone else’s days start while yours is just ending. There’s a bit of satisfaction with it. Like imagining laughing at their faces ha ha! You have to go to work now at seven in the morning, meanwhile I get to sleep! as if working the night shift doesn’t lead to substantially higher rates of cardiovascular disease and other chronic illness, as well as an early death. So who really got the last laugh? Day shift workers. Literally.

It wasn’t something you did because you liked working the night shift. You do it because you get paid a 20% differential for it. And you need all the money you can get right now.

Your brain seems to be working more than usual if you’re able to think about all these things after a shift. Swiftly pulling into the driveway of your home, around the hull of Gojo’s obnoxious boat in the driveway, you get out of your car with your purse hanging from your shoulder and just before you shut the door, you see one of your elderly neighbors waving at you from across the street. You’re pretty sure her name is Margaret, but you’re awful with names. You do remember that she was in the posse of neighbors that were flocking you yesterday and asking you pushy questions about your marriage in the presence of Choso. And your body stiffens a little.

She tilts her head at you as you stand in your driveway, and you awkwardly glance over at Gojo’s house.

“Oops!” you chirp from across the street, “always forget to pull into the Hubby’s driveway instead! Silly me!!”

You grab your emergency overnight stay bag from the back of your car and hurry over to Gojo’s house, knocking on the door incessantly and ringing the bell so as to not arouse any more suspicion from your neighbors about why two married people aren’t living together. “Forgot my keys!! Hahahhahaha,” you exclaim while your pounding on the door intensifies. You’re sure you're just being paranoid, because why would sweet old lady Margaret (Janice? Patricia?) snitch on you? But you’ve been paranoid all your life. It’s one of your fatal flaws.

The door opens suddenly, right as you were about to pound harshly once again, and you stop the motion in time to not sock Gojo in the abdomen with your fist. He blinks down at you, his face a little puffy from sleep, his hair shooting out in all different directions, and he scratches at his chest through the thin cotton of his shirt, one he clearly threw on last minute before opening the door considering the fact that he put it on backwards. And inside-out.

“Huh? y/n?” he mumbles, his voice deep and kind of raspy with sleep, “what are you doing here?”

“Just let me in,” you hiss at him, glancing over your shoulder to your elderly neighbor's lawn for a second, and then duck under his arm that was holding the door open to get inside the house.

You turn around to see him shrug his shoulders and slowly close the door, clearly too tired to deal with the bullshit this early in the AM, and he turns around to face you before leaning back onto the surface. His eyes close, like he’s trying to preserve the sleepy feeling for when he gets back into bed.

“Can I help you?” he says. His head falls back with a small thump to rest on the door.

“I’m going to sleep here for the night. Er, for the day,” you say. “I will move in starting today.”

“Okay,” he easily agrees.

You blink at him. “Um. Show me to my room.”

“Yeah, sure,” he says, scratching the back of his neck as he heads for the stairs with the shuffle of his slippers across the hardwood floor. You note that he is very easily malleable and overall smooth brained when he’s sleepy. You try to ignore the fact that you find it kinda cute.

You follow him up the stairs and he leads you across the loft into a hallway studded with a couple of doors. He opens one of them for you, his head drifting a little like he’s about to fall back asleep. “Here you go,” he says while gesturing inside the bedroom and rubbing his eye with a weakly closed fist, “guest bedroom. Uh, there’s another one near the master too that’s a bit bigger, but this one has a lock on the door. So that I don’t sneak into your room in the middle of the night.”

“Thanks,” you accept and head inside. You set your emergency overnight stay bag on the bed and then turn around to face the door to find Gojo still standing in the frame. He has his hands pushed into the pockets of his pajama pants as he squints at you.

You feel…a little…nervous? Shy? Who the fuck were you to be shy in front of Gojo? You really don’t give a damn what he thinks about you, since a lion does not concern itself with the opinions of a sheep (you’ve been doing reruns of Game of Thrones this past week), but starting today, you’ll be in his territory, and this whole situation is so domestic that you feel vulnerable in front of him. Like the sheep somehow managed to splay the lion open this time, and now the real you is on display for him. You’re suddenly self conscious of the unruly state of your hair and the stains of IV fluid on your black scrubs and the fact that the allegedly flake-proof mascara you put on at the beginning of your shift has long since flaked all over your cheeks.

“Um. Can you leave?” you say in a small voice.

“Huh?” he responds, like he himself forgot that he was still standing there. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” He lets out a very long exhale. “Make yourself at home.” And then, still facing you, he walks off to the side veeeeeeery slowly until he’s out of sight.

You walk up to the doorframe and peak your head around to the left to see him still standing there.

“Satoru. Stop treating me like I’m some animal at the zoo. Leave.”

“It’s just so weird seeing you in my house like thi—”

You slam the door on him, your breathing finally slowing down again as your palms lay flat on painted white wood. You move your hand down to the handle, thumb and forefinger lingering on the lock as you look at it for a moment, but ultimately decide against locking it.

The room has a bathroom attached to it which is nice. The bed is a queen size, fitted with light blue and eggshell white sheets, tucked neatly spare for one corner of the bed where the duvet is flipped over. To the left of the bed is a nightstand and to the right is a dresser that looks very new. You take a glance at your reflection in the mirror sitting above it, and let out a small gasp at your less than flattering appearance.

A five minute shower does you wonders, and you pat yourself dry with a towel that matches the shower curtain. You find one of your floor-length vintage nightgowns, with the long frilly sleeves, after rustling through your overnight stay bag, along with a toothbrush and some moisturizer.

As you brush your teeth, you pace around the room. There’s a little staggered rack near the window that is lined with plants and the blinds are angled perfectly for sunlight to get through to them. You poke your finger to one of the plant’s soil and notice that it’s damp. Been watered recently. Gojo is a plant guy? He really doesn’t seem the type. Well, actually, he’s pretty vain about his avocado tree. But houseplants were a different story. A whole different trope of person.

After getting ready for bed, you slip into the sheets and lay stiff despite the comfortable mattress as you stare up at the ceiling with the duvet tucked under your arms. It’s bright in the room. Back home, you have blackout curtains, which help you sleep because it blocks out the morning light. Here, you don’t have that. You don’t have your melatonin either. But you do have the exhaustion in your veins, making you blink slowly and slowly until the water in your eyes feels as thick as oil. You’re so tired to the point that you can’t even sleep.

You force your eyes to close anyway. You’ll pretend you’re a queen in a palace, here in a foreign land she has recently conquered under her empire. A daydream that you find doesn’t really help you drift off to sleep. But counting sheep never fails you.

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

You awake in the afternoon with a headache that pounds at your head like the FBI is trying to infiltrate your own mind. And all you can hear now is the FBI OPEN UP!!! meme as you groan and rub at your temples with one hand while leaning over the bed to pet at the nightstand for your go-to bottle of Tylenol just to–

Pet around at nothing.

“Mm?” you mumble, opening your eyes cautiously before harsh light makes you close them again. But even behind the protection of your eyelids, you’re still very keen on the brightness that finds you in this room. Finally, you’re able to blink the sleepiness away and adjust to the light, and when the blur of your vision subsides, you realize that you’re in a bed that is most definitely not your own. And then you remember.

You spent your first night (well, technically morning and early afternoon), at Gojo’s house.

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, balled up fist rubbing at your eyes ferociously as you sit groggy from the sleep that enveloped you so performatively after your shift last night. You can’t even remember coming to his house, which is concerning, since that could mean you forgot to do a lot of other things when coming home. Like changing your clothes, and scrubbing your make-up off. But it seems like habit and routine has saved you, since you glance down and see yourself in one of your nightgowns and your skin doesn’t feel dry.

A loud thud! noise from directly beneath you startles you, jolting some of the sleepiness out of you, and you finally feel inclined to head out the door.

You make it across the loft and to the top of the staircase so you can peer over the railing to the downstairs floor. But from the top, you can’t see anything except for the entry area and the family room, but you assume the sounds you hear are coming from the kitchen, because it sounds like the closing of a fridge and ceramic on marble paired with footsteps on hardwood. Lifting the hem of your nightgown up so you don’t trip over it, you creep down the stairs, diligent in avoiding the 2nd and 7th step (you’ve since learned that they creak a little), and make steady progress in getting to the bottom of the stairwell to then stealthily peak your head around the rail and peer into the kitchen. You only have a view of one side, the long counter strip with the stove and the fridge, but you freeze when you’re met with the sight of a man standing there shirtless pouring orange juice into a coffee mug.

You’re temporarily shocked, your fight of flight immediately kicking in as you clutch the imaginary pearls around your neck in fear…but then…you slowly…find yourself starting to stare. This man’s back is huge, massive really…with tense and defined muscles, expansive smooth lines with ridges that meet bone. His shoulders are broad, rounding down into strong arms that are split with veins. And your eyes trail the way his waist narrows down to his hips, of which gray sweatpants very loosely hang from. Honestly, if the door in the movie Titanic was as large as this man’s back, then maybe Rose AND Jack could have fit on it and survived. (a/n. basically picture this)

And in the middle of your drooling, you realize. That this man. Is. Gojo.

Which should be a relief to you, because if it wasn’t Gojo, and there was just some random man in the house, then you’d have to start looking for a weapon of sorts. But instead you just continue to watch him silently without coming out of your hiding. Shirtless in his own kitchen (a crime, really) as he pours OJ into a black mug (who the fuck drinks juice from a coffee mug). He suddenly turns around to face the island and a small gasp leaves your lips before you duck your head behind the rail to hide yourself from his line of sight, and when you realize you’re in the clear, you slowly peak your head back out.

The sight of his chest and torso nearly knocks you breathless, because why is his skin so smooth…and taut across the defined muscles of his abs, glistening with a sheen you can only guess is a salty layer of sweat. His fringe is damp, sticking to his forehead and the sides of his face, a droplet of sweat rolling down from his temple towards his chin but he uses his bare shoulder to wipe the sweat off before it can get that far. He brings the mug of OJ to his lips and tips it back with a swallow, the thick muscles of his neck rippling and rolling with the bobbing of his Adam’s apple, a singular droplet of orange juice escaping from the corner of his lips, trailing down the vein on his neck and into the territory of his chest. Okay. You were being creepy as fuck right now. He can’t find out that you’re staring at him like this, you’d literally move to a different country if he ever caught you. And yet, for some reason, you just can’t stop either.

He pulls the mug from his mouth, letting out a large exhale since he literally just gulped it all down in one go. He places his palms flat on the table, slightly distant from one another, as he takes in the sight of his counter, while you take in the sight of the way his biceps bulge and the veins on his thick forearms tense. He looks like he’s contemplating something. And then he shrugs his shoulders slightly before grabbing the carton next to him and chugging straight from it, like whatever he poured himself wasn’t enough to quench the thirst for citrus juice he seems to have after–you can only assume–the workout he just had.

There’s a deep noise that’s muffled in his throat in the second before he pulls the carton away from his mouth and his eyes glance at something on the floor. You can’t see what it is, but you can see the marvelous shape of his ass through his sweatpants– I mean, you can see him furrow his brow a little and then he’s suddenly crouched down on the floor, ducked behind the island and out of sight, before he mutters something that you think sounds like damn fridge…

You stand on your tiptoes on the last step, trying to peer over the obstructing view of the counter, but you trip over the hem of your nightgown, losing balance and–

–fall straight onto the hardwood in front of you, on all fours.

“Ah,” you exclaim blandly, and in your periphery, see Gojo suddenly stand up straight from his crouched position.

“y/n?” he calls out from the kitchen, his tone surprised.

“Sorry!” you chirp as you feel embarrassment creeping up on your cheeks, “just, uh, fell down the stairs!”

“What?!?” he exclaims in a panic, and you forgot that most people would panic if someone said that to them. He rushes over to you and gets down on one of his knees to peer at your face, his hand shooting out to grab your upper arm with little delicacy out of concern, and his eyes roam all across you to assess for injuries. “Are you okay??”

“Just!” you chirp as you yank your arm out of his hold, “Peachy!” You’re not able to make eye contact with him as he remains kneeled next to you, but you can’t find yourself able to move either. So you just relish in the ridiculous feeling of being on all fours in your vintage grandma nightgown in front of your shirtless and, breaking news: very hot, fake husband. God you can smell the musk and sweat from him when he’s this close, and it’s sexy. You have to be careful to not just straight up mount him on the floor right now. Much to your aroused dismay.

“Um,” you squeak out, “can you put a shirt on.”

“Huh?” he looks down at himself, like he forgot he’s half naked. “Oh. Yeah.” He stands up. “Sorry, I’m not really used to having someone in the house anymore,” he says, and his use of the word anymore isn’t lost on you.

He heads over to the coat closet, pulling a gray sweatshirt that’s a shade darker than his sweatpants off of a coat hanger and then pulling it on over his head. He pulls the hood off, and now his hair looks damp with sweat and sexily ruffled up. And he’s also in a comfy-looking sweatshirt. That was way hotter than being shirtless, for fucks sake. You wonder if he’d reconsider being shirtless again. He’s kneeling down beside you once more, and yes you are still on all fours just staring down at the hardwood floor like an animal paralyzed with fear.

“Have some decency, please. Especially since I am to start living here from today onwards. I would appreciate modesty around the house,” you say as a tactic of self preservation. “Take note of my attire–appropriately covering all skin.”

“Are you gonna stand up?” he asks you.

“No. I shan't.”

“What? Why not? And why are you talking like that?”

“It appears I am frozen.”

“Are your knees okay?”

“I believe so.”

He sighs and gets up from his knelt position, then suddenly comes up behind you, bending over to wrap his arms around your waist tightly before picking you up with the same ease in which someone would pick up a plastic lawn chair. You gasp, still retaining your four-legged creature formation, until he shakes it out of you and then sets you back down onto your feet.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he says with a sigh as he heads back towards the kitchen, and he’s back to crouching down somewhere behind the counter.

You shuffle your feet over to the kitchen and peer over the kitchen island to see that he’s examining the floor in front of the fridge.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

He scratches at his eyebrow. “The fridge is leaking again.”

“Oh.”

He clicks something on both sides of the fridge's feet and then grips the corners of its body, pulling it out from the wall with a small grunt leaving his lips. Even with the baggy sweatshirt, you can see the curves of the muscles in his arms as he works.

You place your elbows on the island and hold your face in your hands as you watch him. “How are you gonna fix it?”

He’s dabbing at the wet hardwood with a very worn out rag to get it dry. “I just have to shut the water valve off for a bit.”

“How do you do that?”

He points over his shoulder with his thumb, and you trace the line of it to the cabinet under the sink.

“Really? You’re gonna get under the sink?”

He dusts his hands off and tosses the rug off to the side. “Uh-huh.”

“Are you sure you can fix it?”

“Yeah. No problem.”

“How long has this been an issue?”

His gaze flicks to yours briefly before he stands up. “About a week.”

“Don’t you think you should just call someone?”

“What?” He turns to face you and crosses his arms across his chest while raising an eyebrow at you, like you’ve just deeply offended him. “Why the fuck would I call someone for a job I could do myself?”

You tilt your head at him, trying to hide the smirk that threatens to tug at your lips. “Well you said it’s been a whole week.”

“Yeah, I’ve–...I’ve just been busy. So I haven’t had a chance to really take a look at it.”

“Ohhhh okay okay,” you say in a teasingly skeptic tone, poking your tongue to your cheek as it’s getting progressively harder to hide your grin.

“What?” he says to you, impatiently.

“Nothinggg,” you purr, and you watch him with a cheeky look on your face as he glares at you before he disappears off towards the garage.

He comes back with a tool box and you spend some time poking around in it curiously as he grabs a couple of tools before crouching down in front of the sink.

For some reason, you feel shy watching him. Maybe it’s because when he’s laying on his back, the top twenty-percent of him ducked underneath the sink, and he’s working his hands on some pipes that you can’t see, his sweatshirt rides up a little and you can see the very lower part of his torso. And then when he yanks particularly hard on something, it rides up more and you can see his abs tensing and relaxing with almost every breath he takes and every move he makes. You’re just grateful he can’t see you, and the urge to clench your thighs together is almost stronger than your brain’s disposition to convince yourself that he’s not attractive just because you think he’s annoying most of the time.

“y/n,” he calls out to you from under the sink, and you jump a little. He tilts his head a little so he can make eye contact with you from under. “Can you hand me those slip-joint pliers?”

“I have no idea what that is or where to even begin to know what that is.”

“The pliers that have the serrated edges,” he tries.

“Huh?”

“.........shark with sharp teeth.”

“Oh! Yes. Yes, of course,” you grab them and then shuffle over to him before crouching down, balancing on your toes, “here you go.”

“Thanks,” he says in a flat tone, slowly taking them from you.

“You’re welcome!” you chirp. You feel very useful.

His head disappears back to deep underneath the sink again to work on stuff again. Even though this whole thing is probably just his masculine ego wanting to fix things around the house by himself rather than just call a person that is literally paid to fix these sorts of things, you have to admit that you’re not complaining for getting to watch him do something handy.

“I’ve just– gotta–” he grunts a little and you hear the creaking of pipes, “tighten this up a bit–” he lets out another gruff noise, his voice strained with effort, and you’re ashamed to say it sounds hot. “Alright!” He pulls himself out from under the sink and stands up back onto his feet with a bounce in his step as he dusts his hands off. “Fixed. For now.”

The fridge starts making a strange whirring noise. You raise an eyebrow at him. He quickly reaches behind it and clicks some button before the eerie whirring stops.

“Okay. Now it’s fixed.”

You give him a very skeptic look. “Sure, Jan.”

“Don’t sure jan me. Trust. It won’t leak anymore.”

“Whatever you say,” you respond before heading back up the stairs to freshen up.

By the time you go back downstairs, Gojo is nowhere to be found, and you take the opportunity to sit on his couch in the living room to then peruse which streaming services he has on his TV. It isn’t until about ten minutes later that you hear someone coming down the stairs, because he makes no effort to avoid the creaky steps.

You put your elbow up on the couch backrest and twist your torso to look at him. He’s wearing pajama pants and an unmatching black short sleeve cotton T-shirt that’s loose around his torso but tight at the arms. He’s ruffling his hair up with a hand towel, attempting to get it dry from the shower he clearly just took. As he makes his way towards the living room, you catch a waft of the clean soapy aqua fragrance of shampoo lingering in his hair. He stops about four feet behind the couch.

You glance down at his feet. “Why the fuck are you, as a grown ass man, wearing bunny slippers inside the house?”

He opens one eye to glance down at his slippers as he continues to tousle his hair dry, “oh, Juno got them for me for Christmas last year. She wanted me to wear them ‘all the time or else uncle toru’s feet will burn off from the floor lava.”

A small smile makes its way onto your face.

Juno is Gojo’s five-year-old niece, and from the interactions you’ve seen between them, and from the way My Little Pony was the first thing that popped up when you turned the TV on, you know that Gojo absolutely adores her and vice versa. You’ve met her a couple times, even babysat her once in an emergency, and she’s a cute and bright little kid that you certainly have way more fondness for than her obnoxiously annoying uncle who is also now your fake husband. Wait, does that mean that Juno is your niece now, too?

Gojo lets out a sigh before hanging the towel over his shoulder, his hair apparently adequately dry enough for him now. He looks younger when his hair is messy and a little damp, falling over his forehead flatter than usual. It’s kinda boyish and dare-you-say charming.

He looks down at his slippers again with a pleasant reminiscent look on his face before placing his hands on his hips like he’s a baseball dad of three. “Y’know, when I was growing up–”

“Ah yes. During the Great Depression.”

He gives you an annoyed look. “Quit it. When I was a kid–”

“Back in the 1800s.”

“Aren’t you pushing thirty?” he asks you.

“Aren’t you in need of some new dentures?” you ask him.

“Fuckin’ rude,” he mumbles as he walks towards the foyer table to rip open some of the mail that was scattered across it.

“What happened when you were a kid?” you ask.

“Forget it,” he says, tucking some of his bills back into envelopes.

“What!! I wanna know,” you say.

“Yeah well I don’t want to tell you anymore,” he responds.

As you two fully grown adults continue bickering like toddlers for the better part of two minutes, your phone is ringing upstairs unbeknownst to you.

“Wait. Shut up,” Gojo cuts off your next insult as he snaps his head up-right suddenly.

“What?! Did you just tell me to shut u–”

“Shhhhhh,” he hushes you, turning his ear towards the stairs with a concentrated expression on his face.

You silence yourself, and then you hear the ringing coming from upstairs.

“Fuck,” you mumble as you scramble off the couch and jog to the bottom of the staircase, Gojo’s eyes on you the entire time as you run up the steps back to your room.

You hear your phone ringing on the bed somewhere but you can’t find it so you rummage through the sheets before finally spotting it, swiping on the call and bringing it to your ear without even checking the caller ID.

“Hello?” you say.

“Oh! y/n, hi there. It’s Dr. Johnson calling. I was prepared to leave you a voicemail,” he says.

“I’m here,” you say hastily, holding your phone to your ear with both hands as you feel your entire body tense up.

You never knew what to expect with any sort of phone calls these days, especially when you’re at work or when your mom isn’t home, because a phone call could be something as simple as approving a refill on some of her medication, to something much worse than that. Something much more final than that.

“It’s not an emergency,” Dr. Johnson says on the other line, like he can sense your fear and anxiety through the phone, “just wanted to reach out to let you know that I spoke with the hospitalist who admitted your mother to the hospital and she’s doing better now. They’ll likely discharge her by the end of the day.”

You slowly let out the breath you were holding. “Oh, that’s wonderful. I know she needs to come in for chemo tomorrow, so it’s perfect timing.”

“Yes, we’ll see her tomorrow.”

“Uh, Dr. Johnson, I do want to let you know…I’ll be admitting my mom for hospice in a couple of days,” you tell him. You wince a little, because you know it’s probably something that you should’ve discussed with him prior to all of this. “It’s…likely that you won’t have to continue her care anymore, since she’s been approved for Kaiser insurance, I’ll be transferring her care to Kaiser physicians.”

There’s a moment of silence on the other line, the briefest moment of hesitation from a self-assured doctor who always had something to say right away. “Really? That’s–...wow. I can’t say I won’t be extremely sad to not see her anymore.”

“I know…” you say, worrying your bottom lip through your teeth, feeling a sudden wave of guilt overtake your senses, “you’ve been following her progress ever since her diagnosis, even got her into remission…it’s just a little complicated with some insurance stuff and some bills as well. If I could have things my way, I would continue care with you and your team.”

Even though you can’t see it, you can tell he’s nodding on the other line. “I understand, y/n. I know that there’s more to healthcare in this country than just…receiving care. But I don’t have to explain those things to you, since you’re a nurse. Do what’s best for you and your family. Give me the details for the hospice, and I’ll have my MAs send over your mother’s chart.”

“Thank you, Dr. Johnson,” you whisper, your voice cracking slightly. “Really. For everything.”

“You’re most welcome.”

“Oh–” you stutter, in fear he might hang up right as you remembered to ask him something.

“Yes?”

“I know I’ll see you tomorrow so we can discuss it then too, but I was just wondering if the scans were back from my mom’s brain MRI she had done? I know they usually take three weeks to come back but just wanted to check.”

He lets out a low chuckle. “I had a feeling you’d follow up about that. No, there are no scans that have come back. I’ll let you know right away when they do.”

“Okay…” you say.

“I know you’re worried about a possible glioma,” he speaks up, “but let’s just try to stay positive until we see the scans, okay?”

“Yes. Sounds good. Thank you, doctor.”

“Alright. I will see you and your mom tomorrow.”

“Yes. Bye,” you say and hear his word of farewell too before hanging up.

You stare down at the screen of your phone, taking in slow deep breaths to calm down your nerves. You just wanted these scans to come back already so that you could feel at peace knowing that your mom’s worsening neurological condition is due to her Alzheimer’s and not a tumor in her brain. The average survival length of a person with a brain tumor is low, and even worse if it’s a glioblastoma, ranging at around 12-18 months. You can buy her a few years at least with the stage of cancer progression she’s at right now, even with the possibility of remission, but if it becomes severely advanced disease then–

You gasp softly and cover your mouth with your hand, unable to even fathom the thought without feeling a feverish chill run down your entire body. Now's not the time to spiral. Deep breaths. One, two, three. Now is the time to stay positive. Just like Dr. Johnson said.

Putting one step ahead of the other, you leave the room, cross the loft and slowly make your way down the stairs and stop at the very last step when you see Gojo rushing across the foyer with his dress shoes on, wearing a dark blue suit, save for the tie, and he looks like he’s pressed for time.

“Are you going somewhere?” you ask from the last step, your hand curled around the rail still.

“Hey, uh, yeah,” he scrambles, grabbing his keys from the paper mache bowl on the foyer table and then pats at his pockets for his wallet only to notice it’s absent. “Fuck.” He disappears somewhere into the house in a hurry and then returns with his wallet in his hand before shoving it in his pocket with the jingle of his keys too. “I had to push a couple house viewings from this afternoon up, so I need to leave.” He finally turns to face you and exhales slowly to regain his breath. “Small favor?”

“What’s up,” you say.

He rubs the back of his neck a little guiltily. “Well, Sana called a few minutes ago asking if I could watch Juno since she had to pick her up early from school, and I said sure, but I have to leave now, so–”

“I can watch her,” you say.

He claps his hands together in prayer form and holds them up to his face, “I owe you one.”

“Mhmmmmm,” you hum, watching as he resumes his haste to leave the house. And just before he heads out the door, you say— “Collar.”

“Huh?” He turns around to face you. “Oh.” He takes a second to flatten the collar of his shirt. “Thanks.” And then he’s out the door.

You sigh, relishing in the emptiness of the house. Maybe you should raid his pantry, or play porn on the TV super loud so all the neighbors think he’s a creep. But perhaps that is not appropriate, given that his sister will be bringing his niece over very soon.

You quickly head over to your house to change into something more appropriate than your nightgown, just some blue jeans that honestly make you look like a soccer mom, and then a T-shirt. You walk back to Gojo’s house and only get about five minutes to peruse his pantry when the doorbell rings.

When you open the door, you’re met face-to-face with Gojo’s sister, Sana. How would you describe Sana? Well, first of all, she’s beautiful, with all the same features as Gojo except in female form. Striking round blue eyes, silky white hair that shimmers silver underneath sunlight (you would describe Gojo less poetically than this, though). Her hair is pin straight, falling down just past her shoulders. She’s sweet, or at least has been the couple of times that you’ve met her, but she can also be a little serious and strict. The type to not really laugh at the dinner table if you make a pointed joke about the current political state of the country, but maybe it’s because she didn’t even understand the joke to begin with. Either way, she’s very different from the annoying and irritating temperament of her older brother, and how their mother managed to give birth to such two different kids is beyond you.

“Hey,” you greet her at the door with a small smile.

“Hi, y/n,” she returns with a polite smile of her own. She’s holding onto Juno’s scrawny shoulders as the kid stands in front of her, barely to the height of her mother’s hips. Juno was toying with the light pink baseball cap on her head, her hair pulled through the opening in the back and tied up into a ponytail. “I’m so sorry to bother you with her.”

“Oh! No, not a bother at all, I love getting to see her,” you say as you crouch down to get at eye level with her. “Hi Juno!”

Juno has curly white hair rather than the pin straight that her mother possessed, a feature that more closely resembles her father’s hair, along with her hazel eyes. You’ve only met Sana’s husband, Jun, once before. From what you know, he’s some type of businessman, and the first thing you noticed about him was that he was the same height as Sana. But his wife was blessed with supermodel height and was probably taller than most men, so it wasn’t surprising. Jun was hearty, almost suspiciously kind, laughed boisterously loud, and in the small amount of time you met him, it was easy to see that Sana very rarely humored his ill-mannered and awkwardly-placed jokes, but they seemed very in love with each other regardless. Apparently he and Gojo go golfing every other weekend. Information that you seem to know despite any desire to know it.

Juno hugs her water bottle to her chest, shy as she makes eye contact with you. “Hi, auntie y/n.”

“I loooooove your baseball cap! It’s so cute, where did you get it?” you ask her.

She blinks off to the side timidly, her fluffy white lashes fluttering over her bright eyes. “Um. Uncle Toru.”

“Ohhh I see, I see! It suits you.”

Sana nudges her a little with her knee. “What do we say, Juno?”

“Thank you, auntie y/n,” she immediately squeaks out in reflex.

Your eyes catch a glimpse of the white bandage wrapped over her tiny arm and your brow furrows before reaching out to gently hold it. Juno winces a little from the sensation. You stand up straight.

“What happened to her arm?” you ask Sana.

Sana sighs as she tucks some of her hair behind her ear. “She fell on the playground at school today. It’s a pretty large scrape and it’s been hurting her a lot.”

“Did you disinfect it?”

“Oh…I just–...washed it with some water. The school nurse wasn’t there today so I just had to pick her up early.”

“Mm, I see,” you say, “I can take a look at it. I have some neosporin in my purse.”

She lets out a relieved sigh, like she was secretly hoping you would make the offer. “Thank you. Really.” She gently pushes on her daughter’s shoulder. “C’mon Juno. Go inside and set your homework up on the table.”

Juno cranes her neck up to look at her mom. “Mommy, can I have a snack first? Pop-tart!”

“If your uncle has them in the pantry, then sure,” Sana says, and immediately upon hearing those words, Juno rushes inside the house with giggles filling the air. “But only one!!” Sana yells out to her in a strict tone, and you watch with amusement as Juno skips off before returning your attention back to Sana.

“Sooo…” she starts, a small hint of hesitation playing on her usually prim face, “I suppose we’re sisters now. Sisters-in-law.”

Your eyes widen and your shoulders stiffen. It was at least a good thing that Gojo told his family already that you two are married, because it seems that most of his extended family live here in this town. At least, you know that his sister’s family and his parents live here. Better to be heard from him directly than to run into you randomly living at his house all of a sudden when they drop by. You’re sure his family has questions about this extremely sudden marriage to say the least. You’re not sure how much they’ll try to pry, but you hope it’s not much, because you’ve never really been a great actress. “Yes. Yes, we are.”

“Mm,” she hums pleasantly at you, nodding slowly and peering off into the house beyond your shoulder, “say…I’m, um, just a little…surprised by how sudden this all is.”

“Hmm?”

“With you and my brother,” she says straightforwardly. “Obviously, you must know he’s been married before, but it’s…a little odd, it feels like just yesterday when he told us he was…getting a divorce. And now he’s married again.” She trails off when she has some sobering thought that flashes through her head. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m blabbering about this. I’m just–...I’m just thinking out loud. It must be a sore topic.”

“Oh, no, no, not at all. No worries,” you say with an awkward laugh, “I’ve, um, come to terms with it?” You try your best to come up with a believable response.

“That’s good,” she says while she runs soothing circles with her thumb over the skin at her elbow, “well, some love moves faster than others.” She displays a well-meaning smile on her face. “I’m really happy for you two.”

For some reason, your heart warms. Like when the lines of reality and imagination blur, and so you’re left here with a truly comforting feeling. Only it’s fleeting and temporary, like escapism. “Thank you,” you say softly. And after a moment, “by the way, I’m really sorry for…Satoru and I not having a proper wedding. We just wanted something simple.”

She lets out a small scoff. “Oh, gosh, don’t apologize for that. I’m sick of weddings. I was so glad I didn’t have to peruse yet another wedding registry this year. There are only so many toaster ovens I can buy.”

You’re a little surprised by the humor from her, but the two of you let out small laughs in unison at the doorstep.

Sana glances at her watch. “I have to get going. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

You nod. “Sure. Thanks.”

You close the door slowly, watching her briefly through the stained glass window as she heads towards her car and gets inside before promptly driving off.

There’s the sound of ruffling heard and then the sound of things falling off a shelf towards the kitchen. You turn on your heel and head in the direction. “Junooo,” you call out, “where are youuuu?”

“In here!” she chirps from the pantry room. You turn the light on to see her standing in the center with a couple boxes of cereal fallen around her. She’s holding an empty box in her hand. “The pop-tart box is empty,” she says with a pout and sulk of her shoulders as she makes the most :(( face you’ve ever seen a child make.

“Oh no,” you say, grabbing the box from her and inspecting the inside, “your devious uncle must’ve eaten them all in a manic episode.”

“What is a manic mean?” she asks you as she looks up, rubbing her ankle with her other foot.

“Oh, it’s like…crazy? He went crazy?”

She giggles at the thought.

“If you’re hungry, I can make you something,” you offer.

She shyly nods her head but her grin fully rounds her cheeks before she darts off towards the kitchen.

You find her standing near the kitchen island, trying to get up onto one of the bar stools but to no avail. You come up behind her to pick her up then set her down on the seat, adjusting it so it’s a little higher.

“What do you want me to make?” you ask her as you come around to the other side of the island and set your elbows up on the cold marble, leaning over to place your chin in your palm.

“Um…” she brings her index finger up to her bottom lip in thought, “pancakes? Can I have blubbery pancakes?”

“Huh?”

“Um…” she starts again, “last time, when I eated them at your house. Um, when I ated them at your house,” she tries to correct herself, “I really liked them.”

“Oh!” you perch up from your bent over position, “I remember! The blueberry pancakes. Aww, Juno, you remember that? How sweet.”

She becomes a little bashful and glances down at the her lap.

“Okayyy,” you say, placing your hands on your waist as you look around at the kitchen, “well I’ll have to see what ingredients I’m working with here, but hopefully I can make them for you.” You tilt your head at her before pointing a finger. “Have you ever seen the show Chopped?”

She sits up straight with excitement. “Yes yes! Me and mommy love it.”

“Good. Let’s pretend I’m working with a mystery basket here,” you say, and then you turn around to open Gojo’s fridge.

You can learn a lot about a person based on what the inside of their fridge looks like. You’re surprised to find the inside of his looks…sparkly? That was the only way you knew how to describe it. With clean shelves that reflect the bright lighting off the plastic, plastic that looks as mirror sheen as glass. As your eyes take in the contents inside, you notice he has some leftover thai food at the front, most likely leftovers from as recent as last night. One of the produce drawers is filled to the brim while the other is mostly empty, and you notice he separates them by leafy stuff vs. veggies. The leafy stuff is the drawer that’s filled to the brim, and you just know he’s stressed out over how to use all of it up before it starts wilting. Must’ve been on sale, you think to yourself. To the right of the fridge, there are an insane amount of orange juice cartons, and you notice he drinks the same one as you–pulp free with the added vitamins and calcium that’s made for kids. Although maybe he has an excuse for it, since he has a five-year-old niece. There’s a few containers of meal prep stacked up at the back of the fridge that look like some sort of arrangement of quinoa, chicken and Mediterranean vegetables. And then there’s just a bunch of assorted cans of beer throughout the fridge, which you assume are to appease the diverse preferences of his friends whenever he has them over.

You grab a couple of eggs from the egg carton, placing them on the counter along with a stick of butter plus a half-full carton of milk, and peer deep into the fridge past the wall of condiments to eye for any fresh fruit such as berries, but you don’t see any. You try the freezer and are relieved when you see he has some frozen blueberries in there.

“Okay!” you shut the fridge. “Just need to grab a few more things from the pantry room and then I’ll make you your pancakes, okay?”

Juno nods enthusiastically. “Um. Can I get my backpack?”

“Sure.” You pick her up off the bar stool to set her down on the ground and she runs to the coffee table in front of the TV to grab her things as you head to the pantry room.

Flour, sugar, baking powder, all tucked in your elbows as you carry the ingredients back to the kitchen before dropping them onto the counter and picking Juno up to place her on the barstool again. She starts to lay out her glittery pens and pristinely sharpened pencils in front of her as well as a packet of papers.

“I can’t believe they’re giving Kindergarteners homework these days…” you mutter under your breath as you grab a bowl. “Juno, wanna help me crack the eggs?”

“Yes!”

“Let’s go wash our hands then.”

As you mix all your ingredients together and Juno continues to stare at her papers with her face awfully close to them (does she need glasses?), you think to yourself what a nice little life this is. Although you haven’t been able to spend the day at your house like you were hoping you would, since you could finally have it for yourself, it was nice to spend it at Gojo’s. It was something different, something refreshing, something grounding. An escape that you needed.

“Um. Auntie y/n?” Juno calls from behind you as you flip a pancake at the stove.

“Yes sweetheart.”

“How is mommy?”

“Hmm?” you hum. “My mommy?”

“Yes!”

“Oh you are just the sweetest thing. She’s doing okay. She’s just a little sick still.”

“When I’m sick,” Juno speaks up with a childlike enthusiasm in her voice, “my mommy gives me grape soor–...stir–” she struggles with the word, “shrup, ah, syrup! Grape syrup. It makes me better.”

“Ohhh honey, I know,” you coo as you try to match her enthusiasm, placing two little pancakes onto a plate for her. “When you get the sniffles, right?”

“Yes! Maybe your mommy will be better too if I give her some of my grape syoorup?”

You stop in your tracks, staring down at the food you were just plating.

The innocence of a child. It was hard to stay strong in the face of it. When you were younger, you probably would’ve thought that a magical potion would make your mom all better, too.

You turn around to face her. “Well,” you say, clearing your throat a little to fight the knot that you find is twisting it, “I think,” and now you’re blinking away the faint sheer of tears as you press your lips into a thin smile, your soft soft above a whisper, “that that is a wonderful idea.”

Juno gobbles up her blubbery pancakes with the extra maple syrup on them and you watch her take every bite. There was something satisfying about seeing a little kid eat so well. The sight made you feel well-fed on their behalf.

“Alright,” you say with a small grunt as you pick Juno up and set her down onto the ground, then take her hand to lead her over to the carpeted family room. “Let me take a look at this scrape of yours.”

Juno’s hand tugs slightly when you try to pull on it, so you turn around to see that she has stopped in her tracks halfway through the trek to the other room.

“What’s wrong?” you ask her.

“I don’t want you to see it…”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s ugly.”

“Juno,” you tug on her hand a little, “I have to see it so that I can clean it. Otherwise you might get sick. A type of sick that even grape syrup can’t fix.”

She looks up at you with curious eyes, not fearful ones.

“There is sick like that?” she asks you.

“Yes. Now give me your arm.”

Juno follows you to the family room and stands still, the front of her jutting out slightly as she pouts, a display of her remaining disapproval for you taking a look at her scrape. You get down onto your knees and slowly undo the bandages, unwrapping the layers one-by-one before the end falls off and you’re staring at a 4x2cm superficial abrasion on her arm, and when your thumb lightly swipes at the skin underneath it, Juno winces from the pain.

You also notice she has a bruise on her left upper thigh, right below where the hem of her shorts end.

“You…only fell onto your right side, right?” you ask her.

“Mhm,” she nods.

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“How come you have a bruise on your left thigh then?”

Her eyes widen slightly with shock and her head quickly snaps down to look at her thigh. “Um. Um. I don’t know. Um. Um.”

“Juno,” you say, trying to muster up a strict tone, but she refuses to make eye contact with you anymore as she stares at the carpet beneath her. You gently grab a hold of both of her wrists. “Sweetheart. Look at me.” Her eyes slowly lift up to meet yours. “I want to help you, but I can't help you unless you’re honest with me.”

Her big eyes blink at you slowly and her bottom lip quivers slightly.

“How did you really hurt yourself?”

She immediately starts bawling. Full on sobs that echo throughout the room and startle you slightly as the tears freely fall down her cheeks and she struggles to wipe them off with her left arm, but they only drip down her elbow.

“Oh–” you stutter, holding her by her shoulders, “Juno–”

She sniffles. “They–” she hiccups, “they pushed me…they always push me.”

“Who pushed you?? Who always pushes you??”

She sucks in a deep breath as she continues to cry and you struggle to wipe at her tears for her with the pad of your thumb. “The–hic–girls at school. They’re so–hic–...wahhh…they’re so mean.”

“They pushed you on the playground and that’s how you got this scrape and bruise?” you ask her.

She nods as she slowly begins to come down from her outburst, her remnant sniffles and short sharp inhales showing that she was struggling to breath. You run to grab some tissues and then come back, holding them to her nose before she blows into them.

“Oh sweetheart…I’m so sorry,” you say to her.

She suddenly runs into you, hugging you tightly, and you’re momentarily surprised before wrapping an arm around her too and then gently patting at her back.

“How long has this been going on?” you ask her.

“Mm…ever since I–hic–ever since I got on T-ball team…but they couldn’t get on.”

“Oh…” you coo, gently rubbing her back now. You’re not a mom, you’ve got no fucking clue how to navigate this sort of situation. But you can try your best to give some advice. “Juno, you have every right to feel happy and safe at school.” You gently pull her away from the hug so that you can look at her face. “And it’s okay to stand up for yourself and against anyone that is being mean to you. Don’t let them take that power away from you.”

She nods slowly, her lip quivering slightly again.

You sigh slowly before giving her another hug. “And we’ll work out something with your mom too, okay? She can talk to the teachers.”

“No!” Juno shrieks, pulling away from you suddenly. You blink at her. “No. Please don’t tell my mommy.”

“W-Why not??”

“Because–” she stutters, “um…I want to tell her myself. Because I lied, and mommy always says to me to not tell lies. So I have to fix it myself.”

You tilt your head at her, frowning slightly. You’re not exactly sure how much autonomy over such things you should be granting a five-year-old, but you decide to give her the choice. You hold your pinky finger out to her, “you have to promise me you’ll tell her though, okay?”

She nods and wraps her pinky around yours.

After getting her scrape cleaned up and tended to, Juno spends the next hour or so watching My Little Pony on the TV as you clean up the mess you made in the kitchen. And as you’re staring out into the backyard while wiping down the cutting board, the sound of the doorbell ringing makes you jump with a startle and breaks you out of your trance.

You were prepared to open the door to find Sana standing at the entrance, but instead you’re met with the sight of a different woman.

Much older, and with all the same features, it doesn’t really take you long to figure out who she is.

“Ah! There she is!” the woman chirps out. “I’m—”

“Juno’s grandmother,” you finish the statement for her.

“—Satoru’s mother,” she instead says.

You both blink at one another.

“Well,” she chirps, “I’m both!”

Gojo’s mother appears to be a kind woman, and it’s evident that being gorgeous must run in the family. Although she has aged features, they’re still beautiful in a graceful way, where people would take a look at her and think of aging as a privilege and not a curse. Her eyes are somewhat feline, different from the roundness of those you’ve seen in her family, and her hair is a shimmering silver all around with a pretty silk press layered hair style that flatters her frail jaw. She was wearing a French-style button up dress with a rather gaudy belt around her waist, and you catch the scent of her lilac perfume even while she’s standing three feet away.

She puts her hands on her hips and has a forced smile on her face. “My son gets married and he doesn’t even tell me a peep about it, or introduce me to his new wife! I have to come all the way over here myself!” she exclaims, and her tone is like she’s trying to play it off with nonchalance but the stiffness of her features makes it look like she’s losing her mind. “Well,” she clicks her tongue, “he’s always had the penchant for never sharing anything he ever does with me.”

“Ah…I’m so sorry, Mrs. Gojo,” you say to her, unsure why you’re apologizing, but there was this energy to her that made you realize she had a skill for making people feel apologetic in her presence.

“No worries! Not your fault. I’ll deal with him later,” she says, her smile growing to where it almost fully crescents her eyes in a frightening way that almost sends a shiver down your spine, “anywhoooo,” she takes both of your hands into hers, “you’re very beautiful, and you have a very lucky-looking nose!”

“Lucky?”

“Yes, yes. You will bring luck to our family.”

“Thanks?” you say, trying to manage a smile.

She takes a step closer to you. “Tell me, what do your parents do for a living?”

“Oh! Um, well, my mom is retired, but she used to be an art teacher. My dad is in the food business, but uh, I haven’t spoken to him in years ever since my parents got divorced.”

“Ah,” she says curtly, her face blank as if she couldn’t think of a single thing to follow up with after that. She peers past your shoulder. “Where’s the little princess?”

“She’s just inside grabbing her things.” You gently slip your hands out of her hold and turn around to face the inside of the house. “Juno!! Do you need help?”

“No!!” she calls from the kitchen.

“Say, my dear,” Gojo’s mother speaks up, “why don’t you and Satoru come by for dinner this weekend? Jun and Sana apparently have some important news they’d like to share with the family, and I offered that we all hear it together over a meal. This way you can meet your father-in-law too!”

You take a deep breath in, realizing that this fake marriage agreement involves a lot more deceit than you ever thought it would. “Sure. Yes. I’d love that. Let me know if I can bring anything.”

“Wonderful!” she exclaims, just in time for when you feel Juno brush past you towards her grandma, hunching over slightly with her backpack’s weight. Gojo’s mother pulls you in for a hug which entirely startles you and you slowly wrap your arms around her as well. “It’s so lovely to have a daughter-in-law. Oh, I am just so happy to have you in our family.”

She lets go of you but still keeps you close by a delicate hold of your elbows, a gleeful smile on her face as she looks you up and down slowly.

“Bye, auntie y/n!!” Juno squeaks out, hugging your leg, and you pat at the top of her head. Her grandmother finally lets go of you and takes Juno’s tiny hand in her frail one, and you see them off to the car.

By the time you make it back inside the house, you let out a deep slow breath, one that you didn’t know you were holding in, as you lay your weight back on the front door. You feel a pressure in your head from your dwindling social battery and all these tricky encounters.

So, you’re part of a whole other family, now?

That. Is. Frightening.

[end of chapter 3]

a/n. ah!! hope you enjoyed this ihm chapter :’’) sorry if it seemed like a bunch of random scenes lolol i swear it’s all set up for stuff that will happen down the lineee. i just be yappin so the word count ends up kinda high. hope to see you in the next one!! <3 love u all. also it’s my frank ocean anons bday today so i dedicate this chapter to themm 🫶🏼💕 manifesting dilf gojo for u bb for anyone curious about why reader is a bit paranoid w potentially being busted for her fake marriage, i had another reader that was curious about this too so i answered them here if you'd like to check it out :)

➸ take me to chapter four!

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maxtermind · 4 months ago

Text

SCENE 1 :: YOU TORE ME RIGHT APART ↳ you were never not mine — carlos sainz ༉‧₊˚✧

★ : pairing :: carlos sainz x reader ★ : genre :: angst; fluff separated by a hidden emotional turmoil, carlos and y/n navigate the complexities of co-parenting their twins amidst the high-stakes f1 world. amidst paddock visits and personal healing, will they go further apart or find their way back to each other? ★ : a/n :: oh fuck okay here we go! let me know what you guys think so far <3 what are the theories!! ahhhhhh this is more introductory? but lots of drama nevertheless <3 please don't mention the diff twin pics, i'll start crying!

( series masterlist \ main masterlist \ drop a request )

yn.user 41 mins ago

yn.user boys are here to support their papa!

username OMG THE IT BABIES ARE BACK ON TRACK charlesleclerc I know they were rooting for me in red🏎 I loved the bracelet btw❤️‍🩹 ⤷ carlossainz dress up leo in red and leave my kids alone username I WOULD KILL TO HAVE Y/N AND CARLOS AS MY PARENTS carlossainz papa won this for his family👍 ⤷ username it's so cute that even though they are separated, carlos never leaves out y/n ⤷ username I think it's his loss, he wants them back so he's playing a persona w words like 'family' lol ⤷ username please get a life, touch some grass🙏 username THE BABIES MADE A BRACELET FOR CARLOS ⤷ landonorris I got one toooooo

carlos is typing... (y/n's pov)

instagram stories

lily is typing... (y/n's pov)

twitter

carlossainz 20 mins ago

carlossainz who said weekends with papa are a bore?

landonorris whoring on main papa sainz? ⤷ carlossainz please unfollow❤️ username DILFFFFF username carlos can I also be your baby mama???? y/n.user MUMMA MISSES HER BABIES ⤷ carlossainz we miss you too ⤷ username pretty sure she was talking about the kids carlos lmao username it's so strange that now we get the updates from separate accounts I miss the og paddock fam ⤷ username well people move on so🤷‍♀️ ⤷ username only the real ones rmb the sainz x y/n post spams lmao

yn.user just now

yn.user stole my tortured heart💫

username who plays cards alone on a beach? 👀 username y/n’s cryptic post has me guessing mhmmm a new love interest maybe?! ⤷ username cards on the beach when alone? definitely not alone. who’s the mystery company hehe carlossainz looks like a peaceful day. glad you're finding time for yourself! ⤷ yn.user hope the boys are still up! returning the call soon🥰 lilymhe finally enjoying some well-deserved relaxation💖 ⤷ yn.user love youuu username i see cards but no players. who's with you y/n username we need more context omg is this a date ⤷ username probably with lily lol username at first i thought you were with carlos but he's in the comments soooo does that mean a new romance

carlos is typing... (y/n's pov)

f1.wags 2 mins ago

f1.wags Our sources have spotted Y/N, ex-partner of F1 driver Carlos Sainz, enjoying a cozy dinner with an unidentified man. The two were seen sharing intimate moments, sparking rumors of a new romance. Could this be the start of a new chapter for Y/N? Stay tuned for more updates as we dig deeper into this developing story.

username wow, moving on already? poor carlos username she couldn't wait a little longer before flaunting her new man username guess she never really loved carlos. just saying ⤷ username carlos deserves better than someone who moves on so fast ⤷ username its been almost half a year? username poor kids. this is why you should never have kids out of wedlock ⤷ username hey good morning, i think you time traveled to 200 years forward. please go back username she’s just trying to make carlos jealous. grow up, y/n username so much for being a loving mother? priorities lol ⤷ username boys were with carlos for one weekend and this is how she spends it ⤷ username from a perfect family to this? disappointing username carlos is better off without her. clearly, she didn’t care about him ⤷ username fr y/n's true colors are showing now. carlos dodged a bullet

carlos is typing... (y/n's pov)

©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

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kamaluhkhan · 7 months ago

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COMPLICATED

LUST — part iv of we'll write sins not tragedies

pairing: luke castellan x nemesis! reader (afab) word count: 8.9k summary: the lives of demigods are never simple. why would your relationship with luke be any different? or: four moments of tension + one moment of release. featuring a trip to montauk with percy, grover, and annabeth warnings: a decent amount of reader backstory (mention of dad having cancer); multiple POVs (percy, grover, annabeth, luke, reader - obv nothing suggestive/smutty until luke and reader POV); luke + reader get into arguments and are v stressed so their relationship is a bit strained; reader has tattoos; reader is on birth control; rough smut (protected + unprotected p in v, oral f+m receiving, biting, scratching, slight choking, slight breeding kink, etc...); also slight dark + possessive luke! (18 + MDNI); major angst — we all know how this story ends ;( author's note: this was meant to be a blurb but...here we are! this is basically another chapter of my spill ur guts series lol. i've been gone for much longer than i planned to, but hope u enjoy possibly the angstiest, smuttiest thing i've written so far ♡

♪ "complicated" by avril lavigne

in the span of a few minutes, percy went from pure joy — being greeted with cheers from all the campers was great, sure, but truthfully the hug from annabeth alone sent him to elysium — to feeling like his heart dropped all the way to tartarus.

which is definitely not a place percy ever wants to visit again. he was happy to be back at camp with his friends, knowing that his quest was completed, his mom was safe in new york, and a war between the gods was prevented.

it should be over….but there’s something in the back of percy’s mind that’s telling him it isn’t. seeing a certain someone in the crowd earlier didn’t do anything to ease that feeling.

"can someone explain to me why clarisse is still here?"

you raise an eyebrow at luke, and he shrugs in response. it seems neither of you had decided who should break the news, and neither of you seem particularly excited to do so, even after dragging percy, along with annabeth and grover, into the empty hermes cabin for some privacy.

after another beat of silence, you take the lead.

“look, kid, i know you and clarisse got off to a rocky start —”

“she tried to drown me, and then basically kill me during capture the flag,” percy points out. he hears an ocean roaring at the memory, but that could have also been from his duel with clarisse’s dad, the god of war, more recently.

a duel that percy had won, for the record. luke trained him well.

“and i’m not defending that,” you clarify. “i’m just saying that we’ve known clarisse for much longer. she’s not perfect, maybe a bit aggressive sometimes — trust me, she and i have had some major disagreements, too — but i can’t see her doing something like this.”

“why would anyone at camp want to steal the bolt? to join kronos’ army against the gods?” annabeth wonders. to herself or to the group, percy isn’t sure, but he has a feeling that the wheels in her mind are turning.

“revenge, maybe?” grover suggests.

almost instinctively, grover glances at you, and so does annabeth. percy wants to kick himself for doing the same.

with you being the daughter of nemesis, he imagines that it's not the first time you’d been blamed for something just because of who you are. it’s a feeling percy knows all too well. and, for better or for worse, like percy, it seems like you’re not one to accept these things without a fight.

you straighten your shoulders, ready to snap back, but before you can, luke declares:

“it’s not her.”

he then knocks the toe of his shoe against your combat boot. you smile and return the gesture. the tension eases out of the room.

for a second, percy wonders if he’ll ever have someone like that: someone to defend like it’s second nature, to share that sort of secret language with, to smile at him like nothing else in the world matters.

according to annabeth, the two of you weren’t technically dating — but percy is pretty sure that aphrodite is swooning over you.

“see, grove? if camp half-blood’s golden boy can vouch for me, then i’m in the clear.” your tone is playful enough — no hard feelings — but the tips of grover’s ears still turn red. “i didn’t steal the bolt. sure, the gods and titans can tear each other apart for all i care — "

annabeth stiffens at your bold statement, and grover starts to nervously chew on an empty diet coke can he had stashed in his pocket. luke watches you with the hint of a smile on his face, and percy —

well, percy can’t help but admire you even more.

"— but it's everything else that i have an issue with.”

“everything else?”

you look at percy like the answer is obvious.

“when have the gods ever fought their battles without us as collateral damage? doesn’t seem worth it to me, to betray my friends.”

that itch in the back of percy’s brain gets harder to ignore.

“the oracle warned me, betrayed by a friend.”

“prophecies don't always come true,” annabeth reminds him. “at least not in the way we expect them to.”

“annie is right,” luke adds, nodding at his sister. “mine didn't. the oracle said i would die a hero.”

you turn to luke then, your eyebrows furrowed.

“what? you never told me that.”

“it doesn’t matter,” luke insists. “my point is that i came back from my joke of a quest, alive and a definitely not a hero —”

“fuck what the oracle said.” you roll your eyes. “dead or alive, you are a hero, tiger.”

you move to place a hand on luke’s arm. to percy’s surprise, though, luke brushes you off.

“i’m not a hero. at least not the one my dad expects me to be.”

again, percy is taken aback by how luke snapped, at you of all people. you huff, and percy can tell that you’re a bit agitated now, too.

“okay, but that doesn’t mean —”

“my point is.” luke turns to percy, effectively blocking your presence for the time being. “you completed your quest, fought a god, and stalled kronos’ plan. you’ve been through it — all three of you have — but now you’re back. let’s just enjoy the rest of our summer, yeah? whatever happened out there, whatever the oracle said, it’s in the past.”

percy wants to believe luke, he really does. one glance in your direction, and it seems like you do, too.

deep down, though, percy isn’t entirely convinced. there’s that dread in the pit of his stomach, that voice in the back of his head. something in him, warning that this isn’t quite over. the worst has yet to come.

he wonders if — or maybe just hopes — you feel the same.

—

ii.

if you of all people can’t get luke’s attention, grover is pretty sure that the world is ending.

“luke,” you try again, foregoing your usual nickname for him. your arms are crossed and you tap your foot against the floor. it makes grover slightly anxious, feeling your frustration threaten to boil over.

“i’m busy,” he grunts, and flips over another page, scribbling something on the other side.

“grover wanted to talk to us about something.”

“i-it’s fine, we don’t have to —”

“no, it’s a good idea, grove,” you insist. you smile at grover then. he remembers that, despite the deadly glares you can deliver, like the one you were just giving luke, you have a gentle core. you just guard it behind sharp edges.

“tell him that i’ll talk to him later.”

“or, you could tell him yourself,” you huff. grover waves awkwardly, even though luke doesn’t realize what’s happening. “he’s right next to me.”

luke looks up briefly, and then back down at the pages in front of him just as quick. he looks tired, exhausted even.

“sorry, man. didn’t see you there. i gotta finish these reports.”

“no worries. i tend to be quiet on my hooves.”

in the moment of silence that follows, and with luke still not giving you the attention you’re asking for, you walk over to the desk where luke is working. what you see seems to make you even more annoyed than before.

“these reports are for september. why in the name of nemesis are you filling them out now?”

“i just want to be prepared.”

“prepared for what?”

luke hesitates. “just….the future.”

“oh!” you laugh, sharp and sarcastic. “i didn’t realize that the future required you to neglect your friends.”

“i’m trying to help my friends,” luke huffs. he taps his pen impatiently against the desk. “if you didn’t keep interrupting me —”

“oh my fucking gods — ”

grover watches the two of you argue. it had been easier to step in whenever something bubbled up between annabeth and percy, because they were just kids. but you and luke — you were adults.

when grover met luke for the first time, he was already taking on way too much responsibility for a kid — keeping thalia and annabeth alive, protecting them from monsters, taking care of them. in a lot of ways, those responsibilities didn’t go away: as a senior counselor and resident older brother, a hero for the older campers to admire and the younger kids to aspire to be. camp half-blood’s golden boy, as you liked to call him.

and, like you, luke is good at hiding. for him, its heavy burdens behind easy-going smiles.

lately, though, those smiles seem to be strained, his shoulders slowly bending under the weight of it all. the other day, grover asked you if everything was okay with luke. you had looked back at him sadly, shrugged, and said you didn’t know.

that’s when grover decided that everyone just needs a break — an escape. he had been sensing that things weren’t quite right with the others, too. percy seems a little on edge, and so does annabeth.

then, of course, there was you and luke. finding out that the two of you had actually started dating was huge news for someone like grover who had painstakingly watched the two of you dance around your feelings for years. so, it was more than a little weird that you’d barely been speaking this past week. the rare occasion you did was tense at best, and explosive at worst.

like now, when you pick up one of the reports luke was working on, and threaten to burn it. luke dares you to do so, even suggests, albeit sarcastically, that you use it as your next offering to the gods.

“oh, a handwritten document from luke castellan himself? they would love that,” you snort. “admit it: you’re doing all of mr. d’s work just to suck up to some gods who don’t even give a shit about any of this. you’re practically olympus’ lapdog.”

luke, blushing a furious shade of red, gets up and yanks the paper from your hand.

“at least my parent is important enough to actually have a seat on olympus and an actual cabin for his kids to stay in.”

you look like you could just about throw luke into a fire, and vice versa. grover had never seen the two of you like this, but it made sense: each of you knowing just where, and how, to hurt the other.

and, he thinks it’s about time to step in before the damage is irreversible. so, grover starts slowly clapping. the clapping gets faster, and he manages to get through the first few lines of the consensus song before you stop him.

“alright, alright,” you sigh. you push past luke, steal his chair, and put your feet up on the desk. luke scowls at you, but you put your hands up in surrender and jut your chin out towards grover. “just listen to what grover has to say and then we’ll let you get back to your precious reports.”

grover tells luke his idea. luke actually agrees, and grover can’t help but feel a little bit of a victory.

he’s a protector, after all. it’s his job to make sure you’re all alive and happy and thriving. and not burnt to a crisp over some petty argument.

—

iii.

annabeth had missed home when she was away on their quest, but being back and seeing everyone being taught to worship the gods without question, to believe that the only things that matter are power and glory….well, after everything that happened, after percy, annabeth can’t just go back to doing the same. at least not entirely.

all this to say, she was totally on board with grover’s idea: the five of you, renting a cabin in montauk to get away from camp for a bit.

unfortunately, the trip starts off less than ideally. you and luke bicker the entire way here — and not the playful jabs you usually throw at each other.

annabeth remembers the first time she saw you together. it was during breakfast, their first morning at camp half-blood. annabeth had spent the night trying not to cry over thalia, and already missing luke even though he was only a few cabins away. she was still a kid, surrounded by strangers, told that she was safe now, but didn’t quite believe it yet. one look to luke at the hermes table, and annabeth could tell he felt the same way, too — not quite settled in this new place that was supposed to be home, and with these people who were supposed to be family.

she watched as the hermes table went to burn offerings to the gods. when they sat down again, luke looked even more unsettled than before.

but then, you leaned in and whispered something in luke’s ear, and he actually laughed, just a bit, which was a nice change of pace. luke was always the one making annabeth and thalia laugh when they were running from monsters, always the one trying to keep everything together with a smile or a joke.

as she devoured her breakfast, annabeth couldn’t help but keep glancing at the two of you. she heard warnings from her half-siblings, about your mother being the goddess of revenge, and you living up to that name.

luke either didn't know, or didn't care about whatever reputation you had. sitting there, next to you, annabeth didn’t think she’d ever seen luke so, genuinely happy, so at ease.

all these years later, neither you nor luke seemed particularly happy. you’re obviously avoiding each other, and annabeth doesn’t understand why.

you and luke are a new puzzle that she can’t wait to solve.

annabeth had finished constructing the most elaborate sandcastle in history, just for percy to accidentally splash it when he was trying to surf a wave; so she decides that playtime is over. it’s time to figure out what exactly is going on between you and luke.

luke is in the cabin doing gods know what. you're on the deck painting your nails, so annabeth decides to start gathering information from you, first.

“hey." you finish painting your pinky a dark purple, and set the bottle down next to you. "having fun?”

annabeth nods once and sits next to you. she asks if you could paint her nails, and you pull out a bottle of silver polish you said you thought she might like.

as you work, careful with each stroke of polish, annabeth surveys the tattoos on your skin. you’re wearing a bikini top, so there are some that she’s seeing for the first time. there's one of a knife on your sternum, and annabeth distinctly remembers seeing a similar one peeking from underneath the collar of luke’s shirt. she wonders when you got it, if you had to travel to a tattoo parlour in the city, how many other adventures you'd gone on without having to consult the oracle beforehand.

maybe that’s a good place to start.

“have you ever thought about leaving camp? like, long term?"

"sometimes," you admit. "it would be nice to have some normal early-twenties experiences."

"would you go to school?"

you smile as you keep painting annabeth’s nails. “maybe. i might have seen legally blonde too many times, but i think about law school sometimes.”

“what about luke?”

your smile fades at the question. “i...i don’t know." your once precise nail-painting falters, and you mumble a curse when a drop of silver lands on annabeth's skin. you swipe it away before continuing. "luke's one of those people i can't really see away from camp half-blood for too long; pretty sure it would burn down without him. there's a reason he feels responsible for everyone there...in a way i respect, obviously, but, it's not the same for me. nobody needs me."

"luke needs you."

you sigh, and annabeth wonders if you even realize how you shake your head slightly. she thinks you're about to disagree with her, but instead you ask:

“what's this about, annie? are you thinking about your dad’s offer?”

and annabeth’s completely thrown off her line of inquiry.

“how did you —”

“perce told me that you’ve been talking about staying with him for the year,” you explain. you gesture at annabeth to give you her other hand, and she complies. the silver polish on the hand you just finished glitters in the sun.

“well, nothing’s confirmed.”

you look up at annabeth, one eyebrow raised. “it's okay, you know — if you just wanna….be a kid for a bit.”

annabeth is silent, prompting you to ask another question.

"what's holding you back?"

“well….at first, i thought it would be a definite no,” annabeth admits. “obviously, it didn’t work out last time. i don’t know if i want to risk it again — if i can trust him, you know? how do i know he actually cares — that he’ll be there for me when i need him?”

“you don’t.” you pause for a second. “but i’m gonna tell you a story that i think might help.”

you're done painting her nails, so you put everything away. you sit cross-legged next to annabeth, looking out at the ocean.

“my dad never wanted me to go to camp. he wanted to raise me in the city, just like he’d grown up. he’d take me to rock concerts all the time. i was so young, he’d make me wear earmuffs and carry me on his shoulders so that i could still see the band.” you smile softly at the memory. “and then….my dad got sick, he couldn’t take care of me, and monsters started to show up, so he brought me to camp for safe keeping."

"you've told me all this," annabeth remarks.

you start fiddling with your camp necklace. annabeth isn't used to seeing you so unsure, so nervous; it throws her off even more.

"what i haven't told you is that even when my dad got better, he….he didn’t give me a choice of where to stay.”

"oh," is all annabeth can say.

“yeah, oh," you scoff, but there’s not really any malice behind it. you seem…sad. defeated, almost. your fingers move to play with the hem of your shorts, which causes the fresh nail polish to smudge. you don’t seem too concerned about that at the moment, though. "i told everyone that i chose to stay. the truth is that i stayed because my dad didn't want me anymore. he said that the universe gave him a second chance, so he wanted to live his life without having to worry about monster attacks or taking care of his teenage daughter."

annabeth wonders if luke knows the truth about this; though, considering how difficult it seems for you to admit, she doubts it.

before, annabeth had a theory that you decided to stay at camp because of luke.

luke was away when you got the news that your dad was in remission. annabeth remembers how happy you were, how excited you were to be back in the city and living with your dad again. you started packing right away.

when luke came back from his failed quest, you had just gone into the city the day before, having promised to visit in the summer and stay in touch. someone – chris maybe, or beckendorf — must have called you, told you what happened, because you came back to camp right away, your bag still fully packed. you never left again.

"that sucks."

“yeah.” you let out a hollow, breathy laugh. “and, i was angry at first. of course i was. but now, i don’t know. i think that maybe my dad does care about me. like, he still sends me mixtapes with old punk rock songs he thinks i’d like. he actually calls me on my birthday, and we have a 3 minute conversation about nothing important."

"right…" annabeth furrows her brows. this conversation had definitely not gone as planned. "no offense, but what's —"

"i'm getting to the point," you tell her, bumping your shoulder against hers. "i realized that sometimes people can only love us in a way that works for them — and it sucks. it really, really sucks. but then sometimes…. sometimes people do actually try. and, i don’t know, it seems like maybe your dad is willing to try.”

“so you think i should take him up on his offer.”

the sun starts to set. you get up, brush sand off your legs.

“i think it's time for a swim. i also think that you’re smart enough to know what’s best for you, and who deserves a second chance. just know that whatever you decide — we’ll be there for you.”

you leave without another word, but with the return of your usual confident smile, off to the shore to take advantage of the last bits of daylight.

"she's right, annabeth." luke appears a few seconds later, takes the spot next to annabeth you had just occupied.

annabeth hums.

"how much of that did you hear?"

luke doesn't answer. he just stares at your form, disappearing in the distance and diving under the waves.

—

iv.

you clear your throat and luke turns around to see you freshly showered. you’re wearing a pair of shorts and one of the oversized band tees the two of you constantly exchange. you've lost track of whose is whose at this point.

luke resists the urge to shamelessly check out your legs, and turns his back towards you once again. that bikini top you were wearing earlier was bad enough. thankfully, the heat from the stove was enough to cover up his blushing cheeks at the sight of your exposed skin.

“i thought we were ordering pizza,” you say, moving to peer over his shoulder, chin hovering just above. luke had the sense that you were avoiding physical contact, and as much as it drives him crazy, he knows that he’s the one who’d dug his own grave. pushing you away and whatnot.

“didn’t know that you knew how to cook.”

“not much,” luke shrugs. he keeps stirring the vegetables — broccoli and carrots and baby corn. he’ll add the red peppers once the broccoli turns green so that they don’t become too soft. he’s pretty sure that’s how he remembers it going.

“i could have helped you.” you reach over and hand him the peppers right on time. you shift to lean your back against the counter next to the stove, arms crossed over your chest and eyes following luke.

luke throws in the chicken he cooked earlier, and then the sauce he had also mixed. he waits a few seconds, lets the sound of everything sizzling fill the space between you.

“it’s an easy recipe.” luke turns off the stove to punctuate his point.

and it had to be. something quick he’d make with his mom after she had one of her episodes, before waking up and realizing that she had a son to feed. the sounds, the colors, the smells — it all, overwhelmingly, reminds him of a childhood he once had. one that was never as simple as the food he just made.

none of the bitterness in his throat is caused by his mom, of course. just his father who calls himself a god, and left them both alone to fend for themselves.

you start getting out plates from the cupboards as you ask: “where are the kids?”

luke checks the pot on the stove to see if the rice is cooked. “told them to go rent something from the video store.”

“they went alone?”

“they’ve literally been to hell and back,” he replies and sits down at the table. “i think they can handle a blockbuster.”

“i don’t care if they get attacked by monsters,” you state, setting down the last plate in front of him. “i know they can handle themselves. they just better choose a good movie.”

luke doesn’t mean to snort, but he can’t help but remember all the arguments you’d gotten in with chris over your tastes in movies.

“don’t laugh, castellan. i’ve saved movie night on more than one occasion and i’ve never gotten so much as a thank you.” you roll your eyes, but luke notices the ghost of a smile.

it fades just as quickly as it appeared, and luke already misses the small moment of levity that’s passed.

“what’s been going on with you, tiger?”

you hold his gaze, and luke knows that you’re hoping for a real answer, for the truth he can’t give you.

“nothing,” he answers instinctively.

“don’t give me that,” you sigh and turn away from him, returning to your position against the counter.

“i said it’s nothing,” luke insists, a bit more assertively. “why can’t you just believe me?”

“because you’ve been distant, moody.” your tone is sharper now, too. “you’ve been avoiding me. you’ve barely been eating. the side of your bunk has been empty, which means you haven’t been sleeping, either. gods, i can’t even remember the last time you kissed me —”

“you’re really mad at me because we haven’t fucked?”

it’s a low blow, and he delivers it as if he hadn’t missed seeing you underneath him. or on top, or beside. luke isn’t picky.

“you’re impossible!” you groan, and cover your face with your hands. you take a deep breath before returning to glare at luke. “do….do you not want to be together, anymore? because if that’s what’s happening, i’ll survive. we can go back to being friends.” you clench your jaw to make up for the tremble behind your question. always a tough face, even in the face of potential heartbreak.

of course, luke knows you’ll be fine without him. he’s the one who might have difficulty surviving when you part ways.

“that’s not —” luke sighs and runs a hand through his hair, avoiding your gaze. “that’s not it.”

“then what is it?”

“noth—”

“i will send you to elysium if you tell me it’s nothing one more time, because i know it’s not!” you’re shouting now. “i might not know what it is, but i know you well enough to tell that something is bothering you. so i’m asking you, one more time, what is going on?”

the thing is, luke can’t tell you — about what he’s done, about who he’s aligned himself with. he can’t lie to you, either, at least not to save his life.

so, he’s basically stuck in whatever the greek mythology version of limbo is.

for now, he’s saved by percy, annabeth, and grover, who walk in with a stack of DVDs and armfuls of movie snacks.

dinner is fine, especially with the kids providing a good enough buffer. luke even catches you smiling and laughing along with them a few times. you approve of their choice in movies, starting with mulan. it’s one of luke’s favorites, too, but he can’t help but let his attention wander.

the two of you have known each other for a long time. luke has felt your anger. he’s felt your frustration. you’ve been on opposing sides of explosive arguments, of brutal sparring matches.

but, despite everything, luke’s never been hated by you. it’s unavoidable, given what he’s done and the path he’s on; it's just not something he's particularly eager to feel.

working for kronos….luke won't pretend he regrets it. something had to be done, to take back the poisonous world the gods created.

he did it for you, even if you won't understand.

he'd do anything for you.

so, for now, he’s willing to endure the daggers you stare at him from the other side of the couch.

—

in another life, you might have taken advantage of the queen bed and private room. both hard to come by at camp half-blood, if you’re not willing to risk zeus’ wrath for the latter.

gods, it feels like forever since you and luke snuck into cabin one because couldn’t keep your hands off each other, curses and lighting strikes be damned.

you almost wish lightning would strike — at least then the bed would be warm.

“i can feel you being mad at me,” luke whispers.

“sorry, thought you’d already be gone by now,” you respond, sarcasm dripping through your words. “off to see whoever else you’d rather sleep with.”

“so, you are mad because we haven’t fucked in a while.”

a stupid slip of the tongue. you can practically hear the smirk in his voice, and your entire body feels on fire for giving him any leverage on you. that was definitely not the warmth you were hoping for.

“whatever,” you mumble, shuffling closer to the edge of the bed, your back still towards luke.

for the record, you’re mad because of whatever distance luke was forcing between you, or whatever wall he was putting up, for a reason you don’t understand. you’d always known luke well, but lately you haven’t been able to read him.

and, sure. maybe you are…. frustrated. the two of you hadn’t been intimate in a while, yes, and your fingers are nothing compared to luke’s, but more than that: you just miss actually feeling him close to you. in any sense.

you’re not sure how much time passes, and there’s nothing but silence. then, you hear his voice again, gentler than before, no cocky attitude laced through.

“you never told me about your dad.”

ugh. of course, luke had overheard your conversation with annabeth earlier. damn those sly hermes’ genes.

you stay silent to give off the illusion that you’d fallen asleep, but luke doesn't fall for it.

“we’ve shared a bunk for years, karma. i can tell when you’re not sleeping.”

you pause for a few more seconds, but you know that luke is persistent.

“it didn’t matter,” is all you offer before he asks again.

“it did,” luke insists. “why didn’t you tell me?”

“it’s not like we tell each other everything,” you scoff. “like, why didn’t you tell me about that prophecy? and why won’t you tell me whatever’s going on with you now?”

“that’s….that’s different.”

“not really. i bet that it’s all for the same reason.”

“which is?”

you debate telling luke the truth.

it was no surprise that you had a certain reputation around camp: cunning, hot-tempered, brash. you were fine being the angry girl whose mother wasn’t enough of a god to warrant a cabin, but enough of a threat to be wary of. you didn’t want to be the one who was also dropped by her father, unwanted and too much of a burden. so, you swallowed the reality of the situation; pretended that nothing broke your heart, and that nothing ever would.

“i didn’t want you to look at me differently,” you admit.

another pause, this time from the other side of the bed.

“if it makes you feel better, i was glad that you stayed.”

you can’t help it; you let out a sardonic laugh.

“that’s not much of a comfort, since you haven’t seemed very thrilled with me lately.”

“that’s not….” luke falters. “i just mean that i don't know who i’d be if you left.”

in spite of the situation, the ongoing tension between you, you find yourself smiling.

“always so dramatic,” you tease.

deep down, you know you’re not much better.

luke was part of the reason you might have stayed at camp, anyways. he was the reason why you didn’t fight harder to get back to your old life, and you always did like a good fight.

it was scary though, that one person had so much power over you and didn’t even know it. you tried to convince yourself that you stayed because luke had needed you, after his quest and everything. but, once you’d known how it felt to have luke in your life, you didn’t want to go back to a time you didn’t.

truthfully, it still scares you.

“i don’t like fighting with you,” you admit softly, swallowing a lump in your throat. “especially when i don’t even know why we’re fighting in the first place.”

you wonder if you’d just thought that instead of saying it out loud because luke doesn’t respond, until you hear the sheets behind you shuffle, and feel luke position himself behind you.

"i'm sorry that we're fighting. it's my fault."

he settles a tentative hand on your exposed hip, where your shirt had ridden up. luke starts to trace circles onto your skin with his thumb, the way he sometimes does when he's nervous or having a bad dream.

"i’ve just been so….in my head. i don't want you to worry about what's going on with me, okay?

"luke —"

"i have to sort it out on my own.”

"you don’t, though,” you insist. “if you just tell me what’s going on, instead of pushing me away.”

another pause. you can feel him breathing down your neck, and in turn you inhale the spicy citrus of his body wash. it’s all so excruciatingly familiar as you wait for him to say something, anything.

eventually, luke sighs, deeply, and confesses:

"it's just….we've known each other for so long, but this — us? so much of it is new. i don't want to fuck it up."

"well, congratulations," you quip. "you're one step closer to getting there."

you meant it as a joke, something to lighten the mood, but you feel luke stiffen at your words, his grip on your hip becoming almost painfully tight as if he's worried you'll slip away.

"i'm kidding, tiger." you weave your fingers through his to loosen his hold on you, and reassure him even more that you're not going anywhere, any time soon. "for better or for worse: you’re mine, and i'm yours. no matter how much either of us might fuck it up."

luke shuffles closer, and you melt into him even more.

"do you really mean that?"

his voice is soft, surprisingly timid. you crane your neck back to look at him; luke stares at you, his gaze heavy enough to take your breath away.

“of course.”

you're so close, and you hadn't been in so long. luke's leg is somehow lodged in between your thighs, and you bite back a whimper as he brushes against you. you feel him behind you, already half-hard, and you rub your ass against him slightly, causing a groan to vibrate through his body.

neither of you have to do much to crash your lips together.

you can sense how luke’s been unraveling, from the kiss alone. his lips are chapped, rough against yours and already bleeding from the pressure; his stubble scrapes against your cheek, and you’re dizzy with anticipation, imagining how it will leave a stinging sensation on other areas of your skin when luke has his way with you later.

for now, you focus on your mouth on his: teeth clacking together, your tongue laving over the cut on luke’s bottom lip and tasting copper. luke brings a hand up to your jaw, pushing you into his mouth even more.

it’s like the first time you kissed. all consuming. messy. urgent — like you've already run out of time.

eventually, you have to pull yourself away from his grasp, your neck straining at the uncomfortable angle. luke takes the opportunity to suck bruises onto your neck while he presses his thigh harder against your cunt. he slips his other hand further underneath your shirt, cupping your breast and pinching your nipple between his fingers. instinctively, you start rutting against him.

“f-fuck,” you groan, relishing in the muscles of his naked thigh underneath you, defined and strong.

luke chuckles, and you feel his breath warm against your skin.

“you missed me that much, hm?” he taunts, encouraging you to go faster, harder. “you’re gonna cum before i even have a chance to undress you. doesn’t seem fair to me.”

“who —” your breath catches when luke’s hand settles around your throat, pulling you impossibly closer to him. you feel the outline of his abs against your lower back, and his length, hard and waiting. it’s difficult to finish your thought, but you try your best. “who says i only have to cum once?”

“that sounds like a challenge,” luke decides. “what’s our record — three? think we can beat that tonight?”

you laugh, already out of breath. “i think we can do it.”

“good girl.”

your thighs clench at the nickname, and it's one down, a few more to go.

you maneuver luke so that he lays flat on the bed, your legs on either side of his hips. your hands fumble with the edge of his shirt, and he lets you remove it without any more hassle.

it's a little ironic, really, how much you and luke hate the gods — because looking at him underneath you, you're sure that something divine must have created him, and you have to thank them for it. sharp jaw, deep scar, flushed cheeks; curls slightly askew, and skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat; that cocky smile — you'd worship luke castellan over any of the olympians.

secretly, of course, you pretty much already do.

"like what you see?" luke smirks up at you, hands firmly on your ass.

you roll your eyes to save face. "come on, tiger, like you're not seconds away from tearing through your boxers."

luke clicks his tongue, locks his calf around yours to switch your positions. you grunt as your back hits the mattress, but you very much appreciate the force and weight of luke above you. he practically rips off your shirt, then starts to nip and suck down your body. he kisses the fabric still covering your cunt, and you can feel his chuckle vibrate through your body when he encounters the wetness there.

"i'm not the one who already ruined their underwear," luke teases as he finishes undressing you. he pauses at the sight of you, bottom half completely exposed. you're about to tell him to hurry the fuck up, but then luke spits onto your already soaked cunt and says:

“i need to clean you up, baby.” he gives you another cheeky grin, teeth glowing like the cheshire cat, before diving in.

luke is skilled at everything he does, so of course he's quick to unravel you once more, this time with a persistent combination of tongue and teeth, lapping at your cunt like it's his last meal.

as soon as you're done riding out your high, you yank luke by the leather cord around his neck to collide your lips with his again.

you reach down to return the favor, snake your hand underneath the fabric of his underwear, and you're deeply satisfied to find him already sticky with his release.

“you already finished,” you tease, stroking his v-line. "and ruined your underwear without me even touching you."

in the dim light of the moon, you can barely make out luke blushing. he hides his face in the junction between your neck and shoulder.

“guess we’re both desperate, huh.” luke’s teeth graze your skin, his curls tickling your neck. “i need to be inside you, now, so how about you get on your hands and knees for me? i’ll get the condom.”

sometimes, luke tries to be gentle — but not this time.

this time, he fucks you, hard and fast and deep.

you love it, even if you might not be able to walk properly tomorrow.

with so much power behind each thrust, and the overwhelming pleasure, your arms threaten to give out, but luke catches you before you fall. he wraps a hand around your neck, bringing you flush against his chest as he continues to plunge his length into you.

"listen to me," luke growls. he snakes a hand down to rub harsh circles on your clit. "the one thing the gods did right is make this perfect, tight little pussy of yours. you were fucking made for me, weren't you?"

all you can do is whimper, closing your eyes at his filthy, sinful words.

you aren't used to luke being so possessive, and certainly not in these past few weeks. it's making your head spin in the best way. you can feel your orgasm build in the pit of your abdomen.

"were you made for me?" luke asks again. he squeezes your neck slightly, and you gasp at the pressure. "answer me, or i'll stop."

you don’t think it’s likely he’ll stop; you’re sure he’s just as lost in the sound of your cunt squelching and the feeling of you sucking him in. but, he does slow down, only a little bit, and it's enough for you to start whining.

"y-yes, luke."

"are you mine?"

you don't answer fast enough. luke stills his hips completely and you almost burst into tears.

you moan, trying to move against him in vain. luke keeps a firm grip on you, making it hard to cause any sort of friction between your bodies.

"i'm yours," you promise.

luke plants a firm kiss behind your ear. “that’s my girl,” he whispers darkly.

satisfied, luke resumes his pace. he moves the hand around your neck to your chin, angling you accordingly so he can crash his lips onto yours.

it doesn't take long to feel the tension in your abdomen snap, wetness gushing out of you. exhausted, you collapse onto the mattress. luke slips out of you.

the next few seconds consist of you trying to bring yourself back down to reality after such a high.

luke turns you around just to face him as he hovers over you. he lodges his hand behind your ear and taps your cheek to get your attention. your eyes flutter open.

“did you just —”

the dampness between your legs, and on the sheets underneath you, is enough evidence: you just squirted.

"i….” you gulp, feeling yourself flush. “i’ve never done that before."

luke stares at your glistening cunt. you wonder if you should be embarrassed, but then he locks eyes with you. you've never seen them so dark, pupils almost fully blown, just a sliver of brown showing through.

"you’re so fucking hot."

your heart flutters.

“you’re not too bad yourself, tiger, or i wouldn’t be in this mess.” you wink at him, still trying to catch your breath. your eyes wander lower. you note luke in the current state he’s in; you realize that the scales are nowhere near balanced. “that’s three for me, and only one for you. let me taste you.”

he doesn't need to be told twice. you get on your knees once more, this time facing him as he kneels in front of you. luke rips off the condom, something to deal with later, and you take him in your mouth, cheeks hollowed and tears brimming your eyes feeling him fuck your throat. when he finishes, you swallow him whole, savoring every drop. he pulls you up for a kiss; you can still taste yourself on him, and it mixes with his new release, a combination that is more than a little intoxicating.

“fuck,” luke mumbles as he pulls away. he swipes his thumb over the corner of your mouth where some of his cum dribbled out. “i know that was intense, but would you be up for another round? "

"yeah," you reply without a second thought, reaching up to thread your fingers through his curls to ground yourself.

maybe you should thank artemis for the full moon tonight, giving you just the right amount of silver light to illuminate the sculpted curves and edges of luke's body. his skin is also littered with bruises and bites of your design, chaotic and beautiful. luke looks like a mess, just as you're sure you do.

you want more. you need more.

"we gotta go for four, remember? but...maybe we, uh…"

"....slow it down this time?" luke finishes your thought.

you nod, grateful that you and luke are on the same page. he scrambles off the bed to get another condom.

"shit. i don't have another one.”

"check my bag, too," you tell him. luke complies, but comes up short once more.

you’re sitting up against the headboard now, and luke returns to kneel in front of you.

"i can use my fingers,” luke offers. “or eat you out again —"

“or we could just do without a condom this time?” you suggest. luke raises an eyebrow at you, so you think through the possibilities out loud. "we both got tested before our first time together and haven’t been with anyone since.” you find yourself pausing for confirmation on that, and luke nods once. “i’m on birth control. obviously there’s still a risk that something happens, but maybe just this one time? you can just pull out whenever you’re ready….if you're okay with that."

luke waits, almost like he thinks you might change your mind, before finally answering:

“yeah, i’m okay with it if you are. i’ve always wanted to fuck you raw. i just didn’t think you’d be into it — and didn’t want you to feel pressured.”

you have to kiss him then. because how is it that the boy who just gave you three jaw clenching, toe curling, heart pounding orgasms be so sweet and considerate?

before you know it, you’re flat on your back, sheets slightly scratchy with stray sand. you don't care much because luke hovers above you; he presses his forehead to yours, curls falling in front of his face.

"just so you know," luke starts, just as you feel him enter you once more. "i must have been made for you, too. i'm just as much yours as you are mine."

you smirk, bite your lip to keep from moaning so that you can keep up the arrogance, just a bit longer.

"always so dramatic," you mock, as if your cunt isn’t squeezing around him at his sweet nothings.

luke grins at you sheepishly, his cheeks flushed.

"guess that means the gods did two things right," you joke, exhaling when you feel luke brush against that gummy spot deep within you. "maybe we've taken them for granted. maybe we should - " he hits that spot again, and your breath hitches. you dig your nails into his shoulders as he rocks back and forth. “maybe we should thank them.”

luke clicks his tongue, grips your hip firmly. "not a chance, sweetheart. the gods’ll get what they deserve."

you don’t care enough to ask luke what he means. you care more about him going faster. you’re about to tell him to do so, and to throw your legs over his shoulders, but he does it himself before you get the chance. you feel him slipping deeper within you, the force and passion behind each movement, his body molding to every curve and crevice of yours.

made for each other.

you’re so sensitive that your orgasm approaches quickly. as he helps you ride it out, his thrusts get sloppier, and you know he’s almost reached his peak, too.

“fuck,” he grunts. “i’m close.” luke starts to pull out, but then you lock your ankles behind his neck.

“don’t,” you command.

“a-are you sure?” he looks at you, wide-eyed.

“i just want to feel you this once.”

he nods and brings you in for one more bruising kiss. he finishes inside you, warm and wet.

luke leaves once he catches his breath, and comes back with a damp towel to clean you up. he knows your body, recognizes how sensitive you are, and presses kisses on the inside of your thighs, where the same lips had made bruises before.

even completely fucked out, your mind starts to unpack everything that’s wrong in your life. like how luke has always been a little too good at pretending, with everyone else at least, and something serious must be going on if he's trying to fool you, too.

this luke with you now, the one who gently wipes his cum from between your legs after fucking you so relentlessly, is your luke. it feels like your luke is slipping right through your fingers, and you’re wracking your brain trying to figure out how this can stop before losing him completely.

wait….did luke say something about getting revenge on the gods? your mind is still a bit cloudy, but you could’ve sworn —

“are you okay?”

his question puts pause on your spiraling. he’s done cleaning you up, throws the towel on the floor and settles back on the bed, next to you. you’re close enough for the softest whisper, your limbs intertwined beneath tangled sheets.

you watch luke carefully as he waits for an answer and surveys your body, tracing his fingers over the marks he'd left underneath your jaw, across your shoulders, over your collarbones and down your stomach.

"i didn't hurt you, did i?"

“i’m okay,” you assure him. luke’s hand stops to gently rest on your cheek. your other worries are pushed to the side for the time being: for now, it's just you and luke. “do you think we could pick up a plan b pill tomorrow though, just in case? i love you, but i’m not ready to have your babies.”

luke widens his eyes like a minotaur in headlights. he drops his hand.

“you’ve never said that before.”

“that i want to have your babies?” you jest, slightly amused at how panicked luke seems.

luke blushes and clears his throat. “well, that too. i meant the whole ‘i love you’ thing, though.”

your amusement evaporates. you swear your heart stops beating momentarily.

“oh, shit.…”

you’re not quite sure what to say; you’ve felt this way for a while, truthfully.

of course you love luke. you can't remember exactly when you realized it, but you just….know.

because if what you felt for luke wasn’t love, then you were foolish to have secretly bought into what silena beauregard had been on about for years, and aphrodite herself might just be out of a job.

“i know we’re kind of in a weird place, but, yeah, i mean it. you don’t have to say it back —”

luke leans forward to kiss you. gentler this time, but just as firm. “i love you."

"you do?" your heart resumes its beating.

"of course i do. i have ever since my first morning at camp.”

“yeah right,” you chuckle in disbelief, feeling your cheeks heat up. “it’s not a competition, you know, over who loved who first.”

“karma, i’m serious,” he insists. “someone taught me to burn offerings, and with everything that happened with thalia, i obviously wasn't in the worshiping mood, but then you leaned over and whispered —"

"they like the smell of begging."

luke grins at you, and you reach up to brush your thumb against the dimple in his cheek.

"exactly. somehow, that was what i needed to hear. it was nice to know that i wasn't the only one who didn’t want to just accept things the way they were….” he loses his train of thought. luke grabs your hand in his. “i wish i had told you earlier. after all this, i don’t want to lose you.”

“you won’t —”

“whatever happens,” luke continues, somewhat ominously. “i love you, y/n.”

you hadn't heard luke use your real name in a while. you fall asleep, heart full with the memory of him weaving it together with those three magic words.

the next morning, you wake up — you actually sleep in, for the first time in years — and decide that if you could stay here forever, you would.

the morning sun stings your eyes through the sheer curtains. the sticky heat of summer sits heavy in the room, and stray grains of sand tickle your skin underneath the sheets. waves wash gently on the shore outside, and an ocean breeze mixes with the smell of burnt cinnamon. you can hear annabeth, grover, and percy crashing dishes and bickering and causing chaos in the kitchen as, you imagine, they scramble to surprise you with breakfast.

luke is next to you, on his stomach. his curls are a mess, covering most of his face.

evidence from last night: scratches from your nails prominent on his back, his neck decorated with purple bruises in the shape of your lips. you shift slightly and feel a dull ache between your legs, so you'd call it even.

outside, something clatters on the floor, and you hear percy swear.

luke's eyes flutter open, ever so slightly, and he starts to move. "we should get up before they burn down the place."

you press your hand to luke's shoulder blade, barely, but in his half-asleep state, it's enough to keep him in bed. luke moves to his side, facing you. you bring your hand up to brush curls away from luke's eyes, even if they're still closed.

"they've literally been to hell and back," you recall his sarcastic words from last night. "i think they can handle pancakes."

the corners of luke's mouth curl upwards.

"you're such a smart ass," he mumbles.

you lean forward, plant a kiss underneath luke's chin. his stubble scratches against your lips.

"don't pretend you don't love it, tiger."

luke breathes steadily. you think he might've fallen asleep once more until he presses his lips to your forehead, pulls you towards him, and quips:

"i love you."

your heart quickens as you echo his words. something churns in your stomach, too.

because this peace isn't something that feels permanent.

you're the children of gods, and there's always a catch. some inevitable plot twist where lovers end up separated, where heroes end up dead or cursed.

it's nauseating — dangerous, even — that you want a happy ending, a desire buried in you deeply like a knife to the gut. it's cruel that the fates keep twisting, taunting you with what can never be.

no monsters; no gods or titans; no prophecies.

just this.

#the way this became a whole chapter....i've got wayyy too much to say i guess #i really wanted to incorporate the trio into this series a bit more and how others see luke + karma's relationship #also i forget who said it but smut as a character study....yeah <3 #luke castellan fic #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan angst #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x nemesis!reader #luke castellan x you #pjo fanfic #pjo #luke castellan fanfic #saf writes

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dawnbreakersgaze · 8 months ago

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After playing Love and Deepspace for a bit now, while going for a second play through this scene hits a lot harder after you learn the lore of the Lemurians and Rafayel specifically

Let's talk lore and theories below, shall we~

Knowing that Raymond should have died by now, and that he WANTS Zayne to ask why (coupled with the Lemurian skeleton) is pretty much a dead giveaway that he's harvesting them for his longevity. He seems smug that he's done what Zayne and his fellow Doctors couldn't, and then almost taunts that Zayne is being held back by staying at Akso.

What I didn't catch the first time, however, was that he's keyed into the area Zayne is researching (the Tower or whatever it is currently) on Mt. Eternal.

As far as I know, Xander Sciences isn't a name we've heard again (correct me if I'm wrong, this is why I'm replaying the whole story again, so I can try and catch the things I didn't understand the first time), but we know someone is after Rafayel specifically and this is a pretty good lead already.

The irony of it all though, is Raymond having the "cursed" painting that almost killed him.

Painted by whomst???

Why our dear darling God of the Sea himself 🐠 like what a tasty little piece of revenge lol. I can't remember if this painting was specifically made for Raymond (commissioned?) or a chance purchase, but my god it's kind of amazing on Raffy's part if it was purposefully done. Sending a booby trapped painting of the bloody death of your people to the man who's brutally harvesting them and displaying their remains in his home like a fucked up macabre museum piece. It's just 😚👌🏼👌🏼👌🏼 so perfect.

I won't lie, the whole chapter is so much more uncomfortable and creepy when you've got more context 😖

#love and deepspace #lads #l&ds #lnds #love & deepspace #rafayel #lnds rafayel #love and deepspace rafayel #lore and theories #kay replays

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woniehugs · 14 days ago

Text

OPERATION: FUCK SIM JAEYUN.

CHAPTER 3

—✧ summary: as a student, you were a huge academic overachiever, always wanting to excel in class and get the highest grades. as a teenage girl, you wanted to get some hardcore action. academics were stressful, and you needed an outlet for that stress. besides, it's your second to the last year in high school. what could possible go wrong if you deviated and have a little fun? you've had your eyes on one guy for a while now, sim jaeyun. the handsome guy, the star soccer player, good at physics. now, you had another goal aside from finishing the school year as the top student: fuck sim jaeyun. one day, you get partnered together for a project, and one thing led to another, you end up in his bed. this might just turn your life for the better... or the worst.

—✧ pairing: jake sim x fem! reader

—✧ genre: highschool! au, fluff, pining (mutual? you'll see, friends with benefits, casual relationship, smut (in later parts)

—✧ warnings: heavy makeout sesh, dry humping, groping, dirty talk, they finish in their clothes obviously

—✧ word count: 5.5k

—✧ author’s note: so yeah this is my first time writing something like this (kill me now) so tell me where i should improve bc i’m not sure if i’m doing this right (send help). gotta be honest, this is more of a filler and for you horny fuckers out there lol.

—✧ taglist: @youreverydayzebra @witheeseung @w3bqrl @renjuns-grillfreind (cant be tagged) @freakywonbin , @enhafika , @enhacolor , @woniebuns, @cyberstephzz , @sumzysworld , @woniefull , @aanniikkaa , @faithnsstuff (cant be tagged), @wonnienyang , @wonlluvie , @slut4hee , @hwaluvrsblog , @jakeswifez , @jakesimfromstatefarm, @jiryunie (cant be tagged), @nikibleist , @friurt , @jungwonsstrawberriesnchocolate, @lolddhfsdcvff-blog (cant be tagged), @my10monthslovesimjae , @heefever , @milanco , @khaisdrz , @cha-raena, @bananna-12 (cant tag), @ilovejakesimsm (cant tag) send an ask or comment if you want to be added!

══════*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*══════

you hadn't planned on ending up in jake’s room that night, let alone on his bed. but there you were, heart racing as his lips moved against yours, each kiss growing deeper and more urgent. the project lay abandoned on the desk, your notebooks and papers forgotten the moment he pulled you closer, his hands firm on your waist.

the rush of it all, the heat of his touch, the way he whispered your name—made your head spin, drowning out the voice in the back of your mind warning you to slow down. it felt good to lose yourself in the moment, to let go of the pressures and expectations for once. but just as your hands moved to trace the lines of his jaw, a sudden surge of doubt stopped you cold.

"jake, wait," you breathed, pulling back and putting a hand on his chest to create some space. "w-we need to talk about this first."

he froze, his dark eyes searching yours, still catching his breath. "what else is there to talk about? we’re on the same page, aren’t we?” jake said softly, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

“we are… i think.” you whispered out the last part, looking away from jake and sitting yourself up on his bed as he gives you some space to do so. you wrap your arms around your legs, “but i just want to make sure. it’s best we know what we want from each other, right?”

jake tilts his head at you, and to be frank, you found the action quite adorable, if it weren’t for his messy hair, swollen lips, and cheeks tinted red. now, he just looks like something out of one of your daydreams. that was all your doing, you were acutely aware of it.

he gives you a small smile, brushing his hand through his hair. "of course. just want to make sure of something real quick." his tone was casual, almost teasing, but there was something in his eyes—something that made you wonder if he was just as conflicted as you were.

you opened your mouth to ask, but then jake leaned in and kissed you again, catching you off guard. it was different this time—softer, as if asking for permission. you felt the world tilting, his warmth pulling you back into the moment despite your doubts.

when he pulled away, you found yourself breathless once more, your heart pounding against your ribcage.

"well?" he said with a crooked smile. "you didn't hate that, did you?"

nah. do it again please.

you rolled your eyes to hide the fluttering in your chest, but you couldn't ignore the truth in his words. "no, i didn't," you admitted, voice barely a whisper.

drawing in a deep breath, you sat up straighter, steeling yourself. “jake, if we’re going to do… whatever this is, there has to be some rules.”

he raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. “rules? are we signing a contract now?” jake teased, but his tone remained light, like he was testing the waters.

you shot him a look, resisting the urge to laugh. “i’m serious,” you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “i’m gonna be straight with you. i’m not really looking to jump into a relationship, not ready for all that right now. so, whatever this is—” you gestured between the two of you, “—it’s strictly casual.”

jake’s lips twitched into a smirk, his gaze never leaving yours. “you sound like you’ve been planning this for a while. should i be worried?”

there was a bit of (no. whole.) truth in his words, and you weren’t really sure if you’ll ever admit it to him, especially not this early on. “you’ll have to find out on your own.”

“strictly casual,” he echoed, leaning back slightly on his hands. you’re grateful that he decided to let the previous question slide. “got it. so, no swooning over me in the halls, writing love poems, or any of that cringey stuff?”

you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, though the corner of your mouth twitched upward. “get off your high horse, jake. but exactly. no expectations, no labels. just… this.” you said, letting your voice trail off as you tried to find the right words. “we don’t let it interfere with anything else, and we definitely don’t make it more complicated than it needs to be.”

jake tilted his head, his expression turning thoughtful. “alright, no complications. but what if i buy you a coffee one day? is that off-limits, or are casual coffee dates allowed?”

a small laugh escaped you. “casual coffee is fine,” you conceded. “just don’t call it a date.”

“noted.” jake leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “and if i kiss you again, like right now, does that fall under ‘strictly casual,’ too?”

your breath hitched, but you held your ground. “as long as we both know it doesn’t mean anything,” you replied softly. “and it ends the moment one of us says so.”

jake’s smirk softened as he studied you, his eyes flickering with something that felt like curiosity, or maybe a hint of a challenge. he moved closer, his fingers tracing light circles along your arm. the touch was casual, but it sent a shiver through you, making it harder to stay focused.

“i’m assuming casual means i can still do... this." his fingers skimmed up your arm to your shoulder, a faint smile tugging at his lips when you didn't pull away.

you swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. "it means no strings attached, jake. no acting like we're something we're not." you caught his gaze, determined to keep the conversation on track even as your heart pounded in your ears. "we don't get jealous. we don't make this complicated."

he tilted his head, looking at you with that familiar glint of mischief. "and if i happen to like having you all to myself for a night?" he asked, his thumb brushing against the side of your neck now. "that doesn't count as jealousy, does it?"

you almost laughed, shaking your head as you placed a hand on his chest, more to keep him from getting any closer than to push him away. "as long as you don't start acting possessive or territorial, i think we're good," you said, your tone light but firm.

"this isn't supposed to be some dramatic thing. we’re just two people who enjoy each other's company. that’s it."

jake’s hand slid down to your waist, resting there as he considered your words. "alright," he said slowly, "no drama. no jealousy." he let his fingers trace the hem of your shirt, his touch warm against your skin. "but if i call you over to see you and talk, that's still within the rules, right?"

you hesitated, feeling his hand slip just slightly under the fabric, his touch making your skin tingle. "it depends on what you want to talk about when you call me over," you replied, your voice lower now.

a smirk tugs at the corner of jake’s lips as he moved closer, his hand drifting from your waist down to your hip, his fingers tracing the curve there. “what if i want to do more than just talk?"

you felt the heat rise in your cheeks, but you held your ground. "if you're talking about hooking up, then sure. but I'm serious about keeping it simple. no mixed signals."

jake chuckled, the sound low in his throat as he leaned in closer, his lips grazing your ear. “so, if i told you that i’ve been thinking about fucking you since last saturday," he murmured, his hand slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, "that wouldn't be breaking any rules, would it?"

bingo.

your breath hitched, and you couldn't help the shiver that ran through you at his words.

"as long as you're not expecting any strings attached afterward," you shot back, trying to maintain your composure.

"i don't think I've ever heard you sound this serious before," he teased, leaning away from you. "it’s almost like you’re scared i’m going to break your little rules.”

he’s right. maybe you are scared. but who cares? that’s the reason why you set the rules. to set boundaries and not cross them. this was all just going to be a fun game for you (that you started) so you can have some excitement before you graduate. and what better way than to fool around with the hottest guy in school?

you pushed gently at his chest, keeping him at bay while still meeting his gaze. "i’m just making sure we're clear," you said. "i don't want either of us to get the wrong idea. if this starts to get messy, we stop. simple as that."

jake’s smile widened, a glint of mischief returning to his eyes. “good. because i’m not ready for all that relationship stuff, either,” he said, his tone earnest beneath the playful facade. “just two people having a little fun, right?”

“right,” you echoed, feeling a mixture of relief and nervous anticipation as you set the terms. it felt good to put some boundaries in place, to have some control over whatever was happening and about to happen between you.

“i’m allowed to touch you like this, right? because i gotta say, i’m kind of enjoying it."

“you’ve been doing it since earlier, jake, and i haven’t said a thing about it. what do you think?”

before jake could say anything more, you clap your hands together. "okay, then. we both know what we want from this," you said. "and we're not letting it interfere with anything else."

he gave a slow nod, his fingers still resting lightly on your skin. "agreed. and just so we're clear, i’m not saying i won’t keep wanting to kiss you like this," jake added with a playful glint in his eye. "but i’ll play by your rules."

you stood up, grabbing your bag from the floor and feeling the weight of the

agreement settle between you. "good. then i guess i’ll see you around. it’s getting late.” you said, turning to head to the door.

a thought suddenly stopped you, and you turned back to jake, meeting his gaze. “oh, and one more thing,” you added, voice firm. “i don’t want anyone else to know about this.”

jake’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “keeping me a secret already?” he teased, “don’t worry. i’m good at keeping things quiet, as long as you are.”

you felt a flutter of something at his words, but you brushed it aside, nodding once before finally turning to leave.

but before you could, jake caught your wrist, pulling you back in for one last kiss, slow and deliberate, like he was making a point of savoring it.

when he finally let go, his voice was a low murmur against your ear. "just don't forget to call me if you ever need to break the rules a little."

a thought lingered in your mind, wondering if “strictly casual” was going to be as simple as you’d hoped.

“i think you’ll be the first one to call out of the two of us.”

• • •

jake: hey, can we meet up?

you: but it’s so late? we have school tomorrow, jake.

jake: you said we could meet anytime.

you: well, yeah, but i didn’t think you’d also mean this late. i literally just finished doing homework :’)

jake: then i’ll come over to yours then.

you: you don’t know where i live???

upon reading jake’s message and realizing that he won’t be replying in the next 10 minutes, you dragged your chair across the tiled floor and ran to your closet, quickly rummaging through your clothes to wear something more appropriate.

you weren’t about to let jake see you in your home clothes that looked like lingerie since you’ve had these since you were a teenager, and you couldn’t care less about who’ll see you in those.

tonight was a different story.

“y/n, i told you not to drag your chair or stomp your feet so loud on the floor. we can hear it from down here!” your mom scolded, and you winced a bit at her tone.

“sorry mom! panicked a bit, and all…” you replied, your voice coming to a whisper at the end.

you picked out a pair of shorts and an oversized hoodie that covers up to your thighs. it definitely looked too big on you, but you also didn’t want jake to think you were desperate.

not that you were, of course. (you were)

it had only been three days since you and jake had the talk and set your boundaries if you both wanted to make this work. you’ve been a giddy mess ever since, always looking forward to seeing jake whether it was at school or not. at school, you would continue your usual routine of eating together at lunch and bringing the other to each other’s classes.

when the two of you were sure no one’s looking or that you were out of plain sight, jake’s hand would linger against yours for more than a few seconds, intertwining his pinky with yours, and you’d feel the ghost of a smile forming on your lips.

there was even a time after classes, you two had purposely got out of your rooms a bit later than usual, and before you could process what was about to happen, jake kissed you softly on the lips.

“i’ve been waiting to do that all day.” he whispered against your lips.

you touch your lips upon remembering the memory. you suddenly needed jake, right now, by your side, so badly. luckily for you, the heavens above seemed to listen to your prayers.

you heard a light knock outside your window, startling you. quickly putting on your hoodie, you grabbed your phone from your desk to see if jake had messaged you.

jake: i’m outside your window

your heart skipped a beat as you read jake’s message. hr was actually here, outside your window, in the middle of the night. you pulled on your hoodie, took a deep breath, and walked over to your window, heart pounding.

sliding the window open, you saw jake standing below, hands shoved into his pockets, his face lit by the glow of the streetlamp. he looked up, flashing you a grin that was both mischievous and a little sheepish.

“hey,” he whispered, a glint in his eye.

“what are you doing here?” you whispered back, trying not to sound too excited. “you’re insane, you know that?”

“maybe.” he shrugged, then glanced around, as if to check if anyone else was watching. “come down?”

you glanced back at your bedroom door, wondering if your parents were asleep yet. “if we get caught, we’re dead.”

jake smirked. “then we’ll just have to be careful, won’t we?”

you couldn’t help but smile back, the thrill of sneaking out making your pulse race. slipping on your shoes, you quietly tiptoed down the stairs, each step feeling like a mini victory against the silence of the house. finally, after what felt like an eternity, you slipped outside, and there he was, waiting for you with that same, soft smile.

you walked over to him, crossing your arms to fend off the night chill. “so, what’s the plan, mister ‘i-show-up-outside-your-window-at-midnight’?”

jake took a step closer, so close you could feel the warmth radiating from him. “no plan. just wanted to see you.” his voice softened, and for a moment, it felt like the world faded you

your breath hitched, and you suddenly felt like words were pointless. instead, you looked down, your fingers finding his, your hands intertwining naturally. you stood there, holding hands in the quiet night, as if there was no one else in the world but the two of you.

“how’d you know where i live anyway?” you ask, ignoring the butterflies you were feeling in your stomach. it was your first time experiencing something like this, and you weren’t so sure on what you should do. either way, the fact that jake came over to see you had you thinking of other things outside your original plan.

“you did mention before that you lived nearby. i also happen to catch you enter your house just one time because i was going around the neighborhood.” jake answered with a smile, and you swore you could die right then and there at the sight.

“that’s very stalker-ish of you, sim jaeyun.” you teased, “what would the others think?”

jake chuckles, “don’t really care. besides, it’s not like i was trying to figure out your address. like i said, i just happened to be there.”

a comfortable silence fell between the two of you. you’re surprised he hasn’t let go of your hand yet, and a part of you is glad that he hasn’t.

he glanced at your window again and raised an eyebrow. “so… mind if i come up?”

your eyes widened, but the thought of jake in your room sent a thrill down your spine. “are you serious? i literally just went down because you told me to.”

“well, unless you want your neighbors to keep watching me stand here,” he teased, nodding toward a window across the street where a curtain had just shifted slightly. “or we could always go somewhere. whatever you want.”

without another word, you took his hand and led him inside, carefully closing the door behind you and tiptoeing up the stairs. every step felt louder than it was, and your heart pounded as you reached your room. you nudged the door closed with your foot, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nervousness.

jake glanced around, taking in the cozy mess of books and clothes, the walls decorated with photos, and the fairy lights strung above your bed. “so, this is your space,” he said softly, his eyes meeting yours.

“yep, this is where the magic happens,” you joked, trying to calm the fluttering in your stomach.

jake chuckled, his gaze lingering on you. “magic, huh? maybe i should come over more often.”

you felt your cheeks warm, and before you could respond, he walked over to sit on your bed, patting the spot beside him. you joined him, sitting closer than you normally would, his knee brushing against yours.

a comfortable silence settled over you both. after a moment, he lifted your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours and gently tracing circles on your palm. “i’ve been thinking about you all day,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

you looked up at him, caught in his gaze. “yeah?”

“yeah,” he replied, his eyes softening as he leaned in. you felt his hand slide up to cup your cheek, and he kissed you, slow and gentle, as if savoring the moment. it was the kind of kiss that made everything else disappear.

when he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, both of you breathing softly. “i’ll probably get in so much trouble for sneaking out here,” he whispered, grinning.

you laughed quietly, your heart racing. “me too. but right now? i don’t really care.”

as you sat there, your faces close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin, jake leaned in again, deepening the kiss. his lips moved with a new intensity, and you could feel your heart racing in response, echoing the thrill coursing through your veins. you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, his hands finding their way to your waist-his grip firm yet gentle, grounding you even as your head began to spin.

your fingers tangled in his hair, feeling the softness beneath your touch as his hands slipped from your waist to the small of your back, pressing you against him. the warmth of his touch seeped through the fabric of your hoodie, making your skin tingle beneath. his hand began to trail up your spine, hesitating slightly as if checking to see if you were comfortable. you responded by pressing even closer, your bodies fitting together as if they were always meant to.

a soft smile escaped his lips against yours, and you felt a rush of heat flood your cheeks. he began to trail kisses along your jaw, his lips brushing against sensitive skin, making you shiver involuntarily.

"you’re driving me crazy," he murmured against your skin, his voice low and sultry. the way he said it sent a thrill of desire coursing through you.

"maybe i like it," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, the teasing tone escaping before you could fully consider the boldness of your words.

his hand moved back down, resting at your hip, while his other hand stayed at the nape of your neck. he gently massaged the spot there, his fingers dancing against your skin as he brought your face back to his for another deep kiss. you could feel the heat radiating between you, the urgency of the moment intertwining with the sweetness of your connection.

you both moved in sync, exploring each other's touch and finding that perfect rhythm together. each kiss, each caress felt like a promise, igniting something primal and raw within you. your breaths came faster, filling your quiet room with a soft, unspoken language, each touch and glance saying more than words ever could.

"god, I can't get enough of you," he breathed, his hands brushing up your sides, his touch igniting every nerve in your body.

"you make me want to do things I've never even thought about before."

the tension built with every second, electric and charged, making you ache for more. "is that so?" you teased back, feeling bold.

"what exactly do you want to do to me?" the challenge hung in the air, making your heart race even faster as you felt his eyes darken with desire.

"maybe I want to take my time," he replied, his voice deep and husky. "to feel every inch of you." his fingers slipped under the hem of your hoodie, brushing against your bare skin, igniting a spark that made you gasp softly.

"maybe i’d let you," you breathed, your voice breathy, filled with longing as his touch sent shivers down your spine. you could feel the heat pooling in your core, an ache that was becoming harder to ignore. "but only if you can handle it."

jake’s breath hitched, and a low, throaty chuckle escaped his lips. "oh, i can handle it, believe me." his hands trailed higher, brushing against the sides of your body, making you moan softly as the warmth spread through you.

eventually, both of you pulled back slightly, lips swollen, cheeks flushed. jake looked at you with a soft, almost awed smile, and you couldn't help but smile back, feeling both exhilarated and slightly dazed. "you’re incredible," he said, his voice a mixture of admiration and lust.

you rested your head against his shoulder, still holding onto him as if to keep yourself steady. "so are you," you whispered, feeling vulnerable yet safe in his embrace. "i never imagined it would feel like this with you."

"neither did I," he admitted, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your arm, sending warmth through you. "but i think we're just getting started, yeah?”

your heart raced at his words, anticipation swirling within you. you lifted your head to meet his gaze, the heat in the room palpable.

"then show me," you challenged softly, your voice laced with desire. "show me what you really want."

jake leaned in closer, the warmth of his body radiating against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the space between. "oh, i intend to," he murmured, his lips hovering tantalizingly close to yours, teasingly brushing against your mouth as if he were savoring the moment.

with a sudden burst of confidence, he captured your lips again, this time more fervently. you melted against him, the world around you fading as the kiss deepened into something more desperate. the sensation was electric, igniting a fire within you that begged to be fed. you could feel his hands roaming your back, fingers trailing down to the curve of your waist, pulling you even closer, as if he wanted to fuse your bodies together.

"tell me how it feels," he breathed between kisses, his voice thick with desire. "i want to hear you."

your heart raced at his request, the weight of his gaze making you feel exposed yet exhilarated. "it feels... amazing," you managed to gasp, feeling the warmth pooling in your stomach as you wrapped your arms tighter around his neck. "you make me feel things i didn't know i could."

a smirk played on his lips at your honesty, and he leaned in again, his lips trailing down your neck, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through you. "good," he whispered against your skin, his breath hot and inviting.

"because I want to make you feel so much more." his mouth found the sensitive spot just below your ear, and you couldn't help but moan softly, the sound reverberating between you, fueling the fire of the moment.

jake paused for a moment, lifting his head to look into your eyes, a mischievous glint dancing in his gaze. "what else do you want?" he asked, his voice low and teasing.

"because I want to give it to you."

you felt emboldened by the intensity of his gaze, the need in your chest surging. "i want you to take control," you said, your voice barely a whisper, thick with desire. "show me how much you want me."

his expression shifted, the playful glint replaced with something darker, more serious. "you asked for it," he replied, capturing your lips once more, the kiss turning urgent and demanding. his hands gripped your hips, guiding you to straddle his lap, the shift in position igniting a new wave of heat between you.

you gasped at the sudden closeness, feeling the unmistakable evidence of his desire pressing against you. "jake..." you breathed, the thrill of the moment making your head spin as your body instinctively moved against his.

"god, you're incredible," he murmured, his hands sliding down to your thighs, fingers digging in gently as he held you against him.

"i can't believe how much i want you." the raw honesty in his voice sent another jolt of heat through you, causing your breath to hitch.

"then don't hold back," you urged, the thrill of the moment overwhelming your senses. "i want all of you."

his eyes darkened with a mix of hunger and admiration as he took your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks.

"you’re making it hard to think," he said with a chuckle, his voice laced with desire. "but i’ll do my best." with that, he kissed you again, this time with a ferocity that left you gasping for breath, his hands moving to explore the curves of your body.

the kiss deepened, and you felt his tongue brush against your lower lip, seeking permission. you opened up for him, a soft moan escaping your lips as he tasted you, exploring the depths of your mouth with an intensity that left you dizzy. his hands continued their exploration, finding their way beneath your hoodie, fingers splaying against your bare skin, igniting sparks of pleasure with every caress.

"jake," you breathed, your voice tinged with desperation as his touch ignited every nerve ending in your body. "you’re driving me wild."

"i can't help it," he admitted, his voice desperate as he pressed his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours.

jake lifted you slightly, positioning you so that you were straddling his lap fully. the fabric of your shorts brushed against him, and you felt the unmistakable heat of his desire pressing against you. the sensation sent a thrill of excitement through you, and you instinctively ground down against him, your breath hitching as the friction intensified the ache building inside.

"god, yes," he groaned, his hands gripping your hips to guide your movements as you rocked against him. "just like that."

you met his gaze, feeling a mix of exhilaration and hunger as you continued to grind against him. each movement sent ripples of pleasure coursing through you, and you could feel the tension building as you found your rhythm. the room was filled with the sound of soft gasps and whispers, a language of intimacy that only you two understood.

"jake," you moaned, feeling the heat between you intensify. you leaned forward, capturing his lips again, your tongues dancing as the urgency of the moment escalated. his hands slipped beneath your hoodie, fingers grazing your skin, making you shiver with every touch. he groped your sides, fingers digging into your flesh as he held you against him, anchoring you in place.

"damn, you feel incredible," he breathed against your lips, his voice thick with desire.

you could feel him shift beneath you, pressing up into you with a delicious urgency that made you gasp. "i could get lost in you."

you smiled against his mouth, feeling emboldened by his words. "then get lost," you whispered playfully, your voice laced with challenge. you ground down harder, the friction igniting a fire in your core that made you moan softly, your body craving more of his touch.

jake responded immediately, his grip tightening on your hips as he guided you to move in a way that sent waves of pleasure crashing over you. "you have no idea what you do to me," he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck, planting soft kisses along your collarbone.

you reveled in the sensations, feeling your body respond eagerly to each of his movements. the heat built between you, a heady mix of lust and connection that made the world around you fade even further. "i think I'm starting to understand," you gasped, the pleasure nearly overwhelming as you continued to grind against him, lost in the rhythm.

"just don't stop," he urged, his hands gripping your thighs tightly, encouraging you to move faster, deeper. "you feel so good, y/n."

as you picked up the pace, the pressure in your lower belly grew, a delicious tension that left you breathless. each thrust against him sent jolts of pleasure coursing through you, and you couldn't help but moan louder, completely lost in the moment. the sounds of your bodies meeting, the soft gasps and murmurs, filled the room.

"jake, I'm so close," you panted, your breaths coming in quick gasps as you pressed against him, feeling the heat pooling deep within you. the combination of his hands on you and the friction between your bodies was driving you wild, each movement pushing you closer to the edge.

"me too," he admitted, his voice raw with need. "just a little more."

with every grinding motion, the world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you, lost in each other, wrapped in heat and longing. you could feel the tension building, ready to snap, and you knew you were both teetering on the edge of something explosive.

"just let go," jake urged, his hands tightening on you, his voice low. “you can do it.”

with one last grind, you felt the wave of pleasure wash over you, crashing like a tidal wave as you moaned his name, completely lost in the moment. the sensations flooded through you, every nerve ending alive with pleasure as you clung to him, feeling the intensity of your connection as you both rode the waves of ecstasy together.

as the waves of pleasure began to settle, breathless and exhilarated, you rested your forehead against his. you both took a moment to catch your breath, the air still thick with intimacy. jake shifted under you, his expression softening as he reached for you. “hey,” he murmured, brushing a stray hair from your face, “you okay?”

you nodded, a smile creeping onto your lips as the afterglow washed over you. “y-yeah, that was amazing,” you replied, feeling a warmth spread through you at his concern.

jake leaned in closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “i’m glad,” he said softly. he then settled you slowly on the bed before slipping out, moving towards the bathroom just near your desk. you could hear the sound of water running, and moments later, he returned with a damp washcloth.

“here, let me clean you up,” he offered, his voice warm and tender. as he gently wiped away the remnants of your encounter, you felt a rush of affection for him. hr moved with care, making sure you were comfortable, and you couldn’t help but smile at his thoughtfulness.

“thank you,” you said, feeling both cherished and secure. jake smiled back, his eyes sparkling with sincerity. once he was done, he tossed the cloth aside and climbed back into bed beside you, pulling you close into his embrace.

“i just want to make sure you’re okay,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around you protectively. you nestled against him, feeling safe and content.

you were definitely more than okay.

══════*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*══════

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reds-skull · 9 days ago

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The frames of the video from the comic in the previous post. I experimented a lot with this, it was really fun to work with this chunky brush I found. Also the first time I draw the Reaper of Destruction as it was before Lumity!

More comments under the cut+a frame I ended up scrapping!

I'll go by order of appearance, because it's basically a chronological retelling of the events of part 1.

So the first frame is the least fancy because it was the first and I didn't nail down a style for this yet lol. It shows Ghost and Soap's first true meeting, in chapter 1, where Ghost helps Soap when he gets impaled by a rebar.

The second frame jumps to chapter 8, when Ghost first put Soap in Limbo. The triangle around them was a later addition, taken from the next frame. I love this scene, it's so fun to see it drawn out now :)

The third frame was the most important one to nail the style. I painted a whole frame, only to come back to it the next day and restart from almost 0.

This is the original third frame

They both show the same event - chapter 21, the second time Soap is thrown into Limbo. The difference is, one shows a more literal image of what happened, and the other is more symbolic.

And by now I think you know how much I love symbolism lol

What also bothered me with the scraped painting is that the composition isn't central, and the entire pose, while more dynamic, isn't fitting the mural feel the rest has.

There's an even earlier version of the scrapped painting, with Soap's face, but nowhere else there are faces in these series, so I went wild with it and covered it with flames. He had them behind him already, as the description of this scene in the fic says Soap had a helo of fire behind him.

(also hated how Limbo's victims looked in the scrapped version like... ew lol)

There wasn't a real reason to add the circles around Soap. I just wanted to lean more heavily into the mural style. But I took that circle motif to the end, after that, and added it to Ghost as well, hence the triangle.

Soap has one skeletal hand, and one palm. That one is on purpose, to show he's hanging in between life and death.

The fourth frame is pretty self-explanatory, it shows the part in chapter 21 where Soap gets the dark marks on his forearm. If the colors look weird in that one, it's because I messed with them so much I couldn't tell if they look good anymore on not

The fifth frame shows another favorite moment of mine, the moment Ghost gets his marks, the white tear tracks, when he finally notices Soap fighting in the void.

The sixth frame is my favorite of the bunch. Soap and Ghost, the triangle and circle combined. The moment they killed Graves, Ghost in full control of his subjects, Soap with his sword of white fire and army of burning moths. They look so scary in this one I love them

The seventh frame shows Void and Destruction. Void was straight forward, I've drawn it a few times before, but I had to make a more detailed design for Destruction, and I only had the very first sketches I made for Revenant AU to go off of, as well as Lumity's design. Idk why I designed Lumity before Destruction, but that's how it is. I wanted Destruction melting, like it can't handle its own heat.

The eighth frame is of Void and Destruction combining. In the fic they had in-between states, it didn't look like this, but for the sake of the video I thought it'd be nicer to have a clear frame of them combining.

The ninth and last frame is of our beloved Lumity. Their design is a little more detailed than the drawing I made a while back. This frame is also the only one that interacts with the foreground, aka Makarov. I think he was jump-scared, don't know how much that comes across.

Damn I had a lot to write. Well, when given the opportunity to ramble...

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #cod ghost #cod soap #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare #revenant au #cod fanart #...fanart of my own au for the most part but oh well #ty for reading whoever did <3

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lowkeyerror · 8 months ago

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The Family Business Ch.3

WandNat x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Chapter Notes: Mentions of death, violence, underaged drinking, slight mentions of SA, lisichka=little fox

Summary: Natasha has heard stories of you from Wanda. It has her doubting your current day skill level. With Dragos and Wanda in a meeting, you get the chance to tell her a bit about the person you've become.

An: Finally something between Y/n and Natasha (I say finally as if this isn't chapter 3 lol) Anyway enjoy this chapter and see you back next week.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

You could feel Natasha’s eyes on you as you worked. It was tedious work, but you typed away with a smile on your face regardless. You thought that maybe she’d pick up her phone or something, but she seemed to just watch you.

“You want to ask me something or you just going to keep staring?” You kept your eyes on the computer screen as you addressed her.

“You’re different than Wanda said you’d be,” was all that she said.

You finally looked at the red head, “Well like I said, it’s been a while since she has seen me. A lot has changed in the years she’s been gone.”

“Like what?”

You paused your work to give Natasha your full attention. You sat back fully in your chair pondering back to the last time you saw Wanda. “Well, she left before I graduated. Back then I thought I was going to take my degrees, find an honest job, and live a normal life. I was fragile, even after the self-defense training. I hadn’t held a gun, I hadn’t hacked into anything, I was just a little girl.”

“And now?”

You gesture around you, “Now, I have this nice office. I crunch numbers for the most high-profile company in town, that just happens to be a front for a criminal organization. I have 2 degrees, I can defend my family and myself, I’ve shot a gun more times than I can count, and I could hack into anything that you could imagine.”

“You’ve got a ledger?” The line about the gun seemed to stick out to Natasha.

You shrug your shoulders, “I’ve carried my weight.”

“How many?”

The question startles you a bit. It was so candid as if she was asking about the weather. You could see them, the people you had killed. It wasn’t a large number, not even in the double digits, but still.

“7.” You don't know what compelled you to keep speaking,” I remember all of them. What is it they say about the first one? You will never forget it. I was 20, it was before I joined the organization. Pietro had dragged me to some party.”

“I take it you weren’t a party animal back then?”

You chuckle and shake your head, “Not even a little so I did what everyone does to get comfortable at a party. I took a few shots, it was stupid. As a light weight and someone not of legal drinking age, I should've been more careful. The shots had loosened me up, so I was enjoying the party for awhile. I lost Pietro at some point, but I was too drunk to notice.”

You see Natasha frown a bit, but you continue, “The host of party finds me on the dance floor. We dance for a while; we don't say much, just hi. Someone spilled a drink on me while we were dancing. He offered to get me a new shirt. Like the innocent little idiot I was, I followed him up to his room.”

You paused, almost feeling like you were back in that moment. You could feel everything again, your skin was hot and sweaty, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, you could feel him on you.

Natasha could sense she lost you to the memory. She got up from the couch in your office to make her way towards you. She took a seat on the edge of your desk and pulled your hands into hers. “What happened in his room?”

“He tried to take advantage of me. He tore my shirt off just so his gross hands could grope my skin. He pulled me against him fiddled with his belt before trying mine. His breath was hot on my neck as he peppered kisses on my collarbone. When his hand slipped into my pants, is when it really clicked in my head. I had told him to stop, but he wouldn’t. You know the kind of guys that say, ‘you want this’ or ‘you teased me all night’ or ‘You’re the one half naked in my room’. He was one of those, no wasn’t going to cut it.”

Natasha squeezes your hand as you recount the harsh memory. It looks like you could cry right there in the office. Then all of a sudden, the tears pooling in your eyes are gone. A blank expression takes over your face.

“For a minute, I pretend I’m into what this creep is doing to me. Only enough for him to loosen his grip on me. At this point my back was against his front. I reach behind his head, like my arms trying to loop to bring him closer. Except one of my hand rests on top of his head and the other one is on the opposite side of his jaw. I snapped his neck. His body hit the floor like a sack of potatoes.”

“Y/n- “

“I threw up when I saw him. After I was done, I called Pietro, he found me upstairs with the body. He felt so guilty for leaving me, but I could tell he was surprised too. So surprised that fragile little Y/n had snapped someone’s neck.”

Natasha’s eyes bored into yours, “That asshole deserved that. He deserved worse.”

“He didn’t rest even in death. Dragos made sure of it. He made that family’s life a living hell. It was a message to the entire city that I was under their protection. If anyone so much as laid a finger on me there would be dire consequences.”

A silence filled the room. Natasha didn't remove her hand from yours and you didn't ask her too. You glanced back at your computer, knowing you had to finish your work.

“Wanda never said you were fragile, just delicate,” Natasha’s fingers drew patterns on your hand.

You shake your head, “Wanda has always had a way with turning something negative into a positive. I never saw the difference between the two words, but she’d always say- “

“Fragile things break quickly into millions of pieces under the slightest pressure,” Natasha starts as if she had been there when Wanda said it to you.

“If you were fragile, you wouldn’t be here with us. You’re delicate, beautiful, intricate, and deserve to be handled with care,” you finish with a fond smile on your lips.

“For what it’s worth, I think she was right,” Natasha returns to her space on the couch to allow you to keep working.

She finally pulls out her phone seeming to have relaxed a bit because of your vulnerability. You want to refocus on work, but there are some questions that are nagging you about the woman in your office.

“How did you two meets? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Natasha ponders a minute for a suitable answer, and you take note of it, “The short version is that we met at work.”

You raise an eyebrow, “And what did you do for work?”

“Guess.”

You let your eyes look over the woman. You took in her relaxed posture, the muscles hiding under her shirt, the way she allowed you to be vulnerable with her, the mischievous glint in her eye. She was a multifaceted woman, you could tell.

“Spy, a Russian spy to be exact.”

Natasha seems slightly surprised, “How’d you guess Russian?”

“Romanoff sounds suspiciously close to Romanov, common last name in old Russia.”

“You’re a smart lisichka aren’t you?”

A blush takes over your features, “Little fox is new, but you’re stalling, Natasha.”

She crosses her arms across her chest, “Well I was formerly spy, turned into assassin for hire. I was anonymously hired to kill Wanda.”

“Too charming to kill?”

Natasha sighs, “I tried, but she was just too good. We started this rivalry, playful banter, suggestive tones, I spent a lot of time trapped under her thighs. It got to the point where I didn’t want to kill her, I had terminated the contract, but I just kept coming around to see her. She told me that my skills were being wasted on petty assassinations, when I could be working for her. I said the only way I’d consider was if she went out with me. The rest is history.”

“Leave it to Wanda to seduce an assassin.”

Natasha laughs, “Hey, she only seduced me because I let her.”

“Whatever you say super spy. I’ve got to finish this work before we have to leave for dinner.”

“Flora might have your head if you show up late,” Natasha comments.

You press the small button on your desk, “Thanks for reminding me. Kate, do you think you could get me some hydrangeas for Mrs.Maximoff.”

“Of course, Y/nn, anything for you,” she responds cheerfully.

You roll your eyes, “Thanks Katie.”

With that you're back to working. Though Natasha pulls out her phone, you still feel her eyes on you at time. It sends shivers up your spine, yet you don't want her to stop looking.

Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername

#lowkeyerror #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #wandanat x reader #wandanat #pietro maximoff

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lightwing-s · 8 months ago

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𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐒

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐯𝐢 ; 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦

pairing: jason todd x fem! reader

summary: It was a normal night, till he had to look for you. And then, the storm began.

rating: 18+ (MDNI)

word count: 8k warnings: pregnancy, talks of abusive parents, mentions of abortion.

a/n: as Jesus is reborn, so am I! Happy Easter to everybody that waited so long for this chapter to come out. I'm sorry it took me so long, but I got so busy this past month that if I hear anyone say 'illicit trade' or 'online trafficking' I might kill somebody lol. I hope this chapter compensates for the time, though. It is mostly Jason's pov, with references to the reader as she/her rather than you because I thought it might sound better. Idk, lmk if it's weird lol.

a/n 2: also, I can't begin to thank everyone for the incredible support in this series. I've got so many messages that had me on the verge of tears with happiness and how sweet they were. I trully hope I'm capable of continuing to bring you guys joy through this series and other stories. I love you all, and thank you so much for allowing me to finally let my ideas become words, and my words to have meaning

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! ♡

links: previous ; next ; series masterlist ; general masterlist

A cold shiver ran up Jason’s spine. The soft breeze coming off the opened fridge climbed up his shirtless torso, drying the sweat on his skin and leaving it cold and sticky. The nearly freezing water slid down his throat, giving him the refreshment he craved for after a long session of training, and an even longer day of work.

It was finally over. His session, his day, his week. Saturday couldn't have come sooner. Sighing in relief, he refilled the water bottle, shoved it back into it’s previous place and turned on his heel heading for a much needed shower. He was tired. Drained. And all he wanted to do was drop down in his bed and sleep for a whole entire night.

Picking out his phone from his joggers’ pocket, he took one last peek at the screen. Almost 10:00pm, and a weather report of an incoming rainstorm soon. Perfect, he thought. He loved to sleep to the sound of rain. So, he locked his phone, threw it on the sofa, and rushed to the bathroom, hoping to get a shower before it got too cold, leaving fast enough to get to bed before the raindrops started to fall.

He stripped down his pants in front of his mirror, a quick stop to admire his progress. Chest, arms, and back. All proof of his hardwork and commitment. And yet, a reddish mark by his neck was what really caught his attention. Roy had poked fun at it earlier, but his joke couldn’t be farther from the truth. A bug bite, as simple as that. An allergic reaction to a stupid bug. But that stupid reaction, that stupid mark, brought him back to the last time something like that was left on his skin.

Yn had left with countless marks after that brief session in a stranger’s office. Enough to last him a while. But not more than the first time he had you, right under the same roof he was at now. Marks on his neck, on his chest, arms, and back. If he thought too long of it, he could feel her lips warming his skin, making his mind go crazy, and his blood to boil.

Shaking his head, he tried to keep those thoughts away. It wasn’t time. It wasn’t appropriate. Yn was now the mother of his child. Nothing more than that. He couldn’t keep the thought lingering. So, sliding the glass door open, he entered the shower, hoping to wash away all the thoughts off his mind.

As the cold water hit his shoulders, relief spread to his entire body, even if the chilling weather of the start of fall was not the most adequate for such water temperature. Sinking his head under the cascade, he closed his eyes, mind emptying, and peace reaching him after a long and rough week.

It was silent in his head. But it wasn’t enough.

He couldn’t wash his mind off of Yn. It was first the night he had you over, and under him, moaning his name repeatedly in his ear. He remembered how soft her skin felt, how light was her touch, and yet he couldn’t forget the burning pain her nails had left on his back.

He drowned in the memory of her intoxicating smell, and how the skin under her ear tasted sweet. For a moment, even through the freezing water, he swore he could feel her blood catching fire running through her body, warming him along the way through their skins, glued to one another, tangled in each other, in a night he would never forget.

And then came the memories of the second time. How annoyed she was, and how easily she gave in to him. It was like her body responded to his, knowing it was only him that could give him the pleasure she craved. He missed the feral, animalistic, feelings of that afternoon, and how she fit perfectly around him.

Stop, he thought to himself, opening his eyes to the bright room. This isn’t okay. But again, it was already too late. His throbbing cock rested against his lower abdomen, hard and leaking. He smelled his arousal mixed between the smell of his soap, and his hand reached for his tip, light touches already driving him insane. Resting his hand on the cold porcelain tile, he allowed his eyes to close again.

And then, he remembered the picture. Sent to him just a few hours earlier. It wasn't dirty. On the contrary, it was as innocent as one could be. It was her, playing along with a baby toy, those usually overpriced, but that could distract even a grown adult. And thus she was, distractedly playing with the toy as a picture was snapped without her acknowledgment, and probably sent to him without her knowing either. Her barely visible smile caught his eyes immediately.

For the almost six months he had known her, it wasn’t a sight he got to see often, but that had been gracing his presence much more frequently now. It was beautiful. To him, it was art. Pure and soft. Bright and warm. He could watch it all day. He remembered the first time she smiled at him, in his kitchen, over snacks and laughter. Just before he had her pinned under him in the most intense lovemaking session he’d ever had.

He cursed himself. How could he turn an innocent picture into fire for his wet dreams? But how could he stop thinking of the soft skin of her neck, almost the focus of that picture, when it was exposed right there just for him to see? How could he stop his mind from wandering when it had been so long he had been with anyone? When he had been with her.

Only a few touches brought him his high, spilling all over his wall like a firetruck. Gosh, he hasn’t fucked anyone in so long it was almost pittyful. Feeling himself grow soft, he sunk himself in the water again, washing his face ferociously to wash the shame away. He wasn’t religious, but he prayed he could keep you out of his mind. He couldn’t keep doing it. Things had changed. It wasn’t appropriate. Fuck.

He walked to his bedroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist. Straight to his closet where, after a few minutes of searching, he found the new pair of sweatpants he had gotten. Gray like all others he owned. Putting it on, he returned to the kitchen, threw himself on the sofa, and prayed, while watching the darkened ceiling, that he could keep her out of his mind.

Soon closing his eyes, the darkness and the tiredness sank him into sleep. Letting go of lights and noises coming from the outside, he allowed the quietness to embrace him. However, his peace didn’t last long.

Underneath him, he felt the incessant vibrations of his phone, even if he couldn’t seem to find the device anywhere. It was just as the phone had stopped that he found it hidden between the pillows, and he unlocked the screen to a scary surprise.

Yn 6 Missed Calls

“What the fuck!” he screamed out loud, worry slowly creeping up his chest, weighing it down and making it hard to breathe.

She didn’t call him. Never. Not one single time. He was the one to always call and message to check if she was okay, or to start any conversation. Something must have happened, and going by the sheer number of times she had tried to contact him, it wasn’t good. Quickly unlocking his phone, he typed on the notification, calling Yn back straight away. She didn’t take long to pick up.

“Yn, what happened?” he questioned as soon as she picked up.

“Oh, thank god!” He heard from the other line, but the voice wasn’t hers. “Jason, It’s Vanessa here. Nessie. Yn’s friend.”

“H-hi, Vanessa,” he greeted through his wavering voice. “What happened? Where’s Yn?” he inquired. He wasn’t only met with silence from the other line, although Vanessa’s tense breathing indicated she was still on the call. With a demanding voice, he asked one more time, “Vanessa?”

“Jason…” She took a deep breath. “Yn is gone.”

It felt as if a heavy weight pulled his heart down, as it dropped lower than it ever had. Yet, his mind was empty, none of Vanessa’s words making sense to him. Yn was gone. Gone where? Why? Where was gone? He had so many questions, yet only once made it out of his lips.

“What?!” his voice faltered.

“She’s gone. I don’t know where to.” Vanessa’s voice too was shaky, and seemed to be holding back tears from falling down. “I heard everything through the walls but I was too afraid to go out and find him, because he scares the shit out of me. He’s really huge, you know, he could easily knock me down if I tried to help her,” Vanessa was rambling, and he could hear her incessant steps, as if she couldn’t keep herself still. “And they were fast too, by the time I got the courage to come out they were already gone, and…”

“Vanessa, calm down,” he requested, already fishing for a t-shirt and shoes from his bedroom. Whatever it was she was trying to tell him, it was worrying. Had someone taken her? Why?

“ ’m sorry. I-I just… I got her phone by accident. She accidentally left me with it when she handed me her shopping bags. So I’ve tried calling you ever since.”

“Are you at home?” he asked and got a hum in responde. “I’m coming over, okay? I’ll be there in a second. But who took her, Nessie, please. Who was it?”

“No one took her,” she started to explain, pausing for what sounded to be a glass of water. Jason too prepared a glass before he left. “Her dad kicked her out. He found out she was pregnant.”

“He did what?!” he nearly screamed on the line, blood beginning to boil. He hadn’t heard much about her parents, but taking by how shaken about the pregnancy at first, he had no doubts they were partially responsible for her nervousness.

“He found out she was pregnant and kicked her out of her apartment,” she repeated. “Well, technically it’s his apartment, he pays for ever- But it doesn’t matter now. She’s gone and we have to find her! She was crying, a lot, and she left with only a backpack and a small suitcase. She can’t have taken much…”

“And it’s going to rain,” Jason added, already sitting in his car after flying down his building’s stairs. It wasn’t just rain, but a storm. She can’t be out in a weather like that, I have to find her. “Wait for me downstairs. I’ll be in front of your apartment in just a minute. I promise we’ll find her.”

“Vanessa!” he screamed at the girl standing on the sidewalk, looking left and right before turning to face the voice that had just called her. Jason had parked by the entrance of the building, fancy enough to have its own doorman and a beautifully decorated lobby behind its glass front doors. “How are you? Have you got any news?”

“I’m fine. At least trying to. And no news of her yet. I tried looking up and down the street, but she’s not around here anymore.” She looked at him apologetic, eyes now evidently holding back a pool of tears.

“She can’t have gone far. She was walking, right?” he asked, looking around at the still fast moving traffic on that grim Saturday night. The sky was starless, and heavy clouds filled it instead.

“I’m so sorry, Jason,” Vanessa apologized, making him turn. Her chin trembled as her tears fell from her brown eyes. “I heard it all and couldn’t do anything. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Hey, Nessie,” he tried to soothe her, calling her by the familiar nickname he so often heard coming off Yn’s lips, and wrapping her in a friendly hug. “It’s not your fault. There wasn’t much you could do. But, please, tell me everything that happened. I’m still trying to understand it.”

Breaking off from his hug, Nessie ran her hands up and down her arms in search of warmth before looking up to meet Jason’s eyes. “Her dad is an asshole.” Oh really?, he thought. “We were coming back from the mall, you know. I sent you the picture while we were there.” He nodded. “When we arrived back her door was open, and it usually means that her parents are around. So she shoved me all of her bags before her mother could snoop in and claimed they were for my cousin’s baby shower. Before I knew it, there was screaming outside and when I went to look, her mother was weirdly pacing around and Yn and her dad were nowhere to be found.

“I thought of running down the stairs, but the elevator was already on the ground floor and I knew I couldn’t make it on time. So I just looked down the window and saw him pushing her into the streets. Her bags as well. I couldn’t understand what he said, but he was still screaming at her. Jason,” she called him, but his attention hadn’t gone anywhere. “She looked so scared, even from that far. I could see her crying, on the floor, and walking down the street. I heard movement, so I hid back in my apartment. I even heard a knock on my door, but I was too scared to open and just started calling you.”

Jason’s rage slowly grew as Vanessa continued her story. How could anyone treat family like that? He couldn’t picture treating his mother, father, or any of his siblings like that. And he specially could never imagine doing something similar to his own daughter. Whoever that man was, he wasn’t a father. He was a fucking monster he wanted to beat up so bad…

“Since she moved here for college he keeps trying to take her back to their hometown, because he says Gotham is a corrupt city and that it will “corrupt” his “baby” daughter,” Vanessa continued her story. “From what she told me, they frequent this church, and he’s seen as this “model citizen”. A joke, let me tell you. He was always controlling of her and her sisters, and they couldn’t ever walk out of line or it would ruin it for him, whatever he meant.

“I’m not sure if it’s up to me to tell you this, but it's not the first time he kicked a daughter out of home. He found out her sister kissed another girl at a party and threw her out. I guess having an unmarried pregnant daughter does the same to him and he kicked Yn too.

“I swear,” Jason ran a hand on his face. “I can kill this man.”

“Get in line. Although I do think you have more chances than me,” she tried to joke and Jason let out a dry laugh. He really could kill that man. With every single word from Vanessa, he only got worse.

A few drops of water hit his head, announcing the rain he eagerly waited for earlier was about to start. “We have to go before the rain gets heavier. She can’t be on the streets in a fucking storm.”

“I called a friend to help us look for her. He’s just by the corner. We can split up and find her quicker,” Nessie informed, waving her hand at a car that parked just before the two of them. She fixed her belt in the passenger seat while Jason rested his forearms on the window.

“You go down the street and look for her south. I’ll go north and look for her there. Nessie, please call me if you…” he instructed the guy when exalted voices caught his attention. Coming out of the glass doors of the modern apartment complex, a large man and his wife walked out of the building in a loud exchange, aiming for the taxi that had parked just behind Nessie’s friend black SUV. “Is that him?”

The sudden change in his tone frightened Vanessa, and she stood quiet for a while until she responded with quite uncertainty, “Y-yeah.”

In that moment, Jason’s knuckles turned white from how hard he gripped on the car’s window, and his face turned a bright shade of red. Letting go of the car, Vanessa’s scream wasn’t enough to stop him from stomping in the pair’s direction, not even her repeated attempts to hold at his wrist. He shook her hold easily, legs moving fast as he eyes were set on the man responsible for all of this.

Jason exhaled a trembling breath through his nose, and he could hear his own heart thumping in his chest. His arms hung as hard as stone to his sides, and his nails dug deep into the skin of his palms. There were a few blurry sports in his sight, and his eyes burned with anger. He was seeing red, both figuratively and literally, as the neon lights of a store close by shone brightly in shades of scarlet, painting the man’s frame in its bright colors.

The large frame of the man was closer. The bald spot in his head, now much more visible. He didn’t know the man’s name, nor how looked. They never shared a word, or even a glimpse at each other. But Jason knew, oh he knew, that he would never, ever again, let him step a foot close to his girl. He would never treat you like he did, and he would pay for it even if it came little by little.

That man would never get close to his child and its mother, and he would make sure he remembered his name. Or the feel of his punch.

“Hey!” Jason called him with a loud growl. The old man turned in his direction immediately, unaware of the fist flying into his face.

The man all but fell to the ground with a loud thud, as his wife screamed in despair. His rage not vanishing after he knocked the man down, Jason climbed on top of him, throwing punches left and right to the man’s face and stomach, until he felt his hands aching and he was pulled away from him by two pairs of strong arms.

“Stop! Jason, let go!” Vanessa screamed as he squirmed in the two men’s arms, wanting to go back to the man who failed to sit up while his wife cleared his bloody lips.

“Get over it, mate. Let’s find her,” said Vanessa’s friend, and just then he let it go.

His hand shook as he held the steering wheel. Knuckles bloodied and in throbbing pain. He still drowned in adrenaline from the well beat up he gave Yn’s excuse of a father. Vanessa’s friend, Dale, had followed him to the car to make sure he was alright to drive, but Jason assured him he was fine. The man got what he deserved, and Jason was glad he was the one to deliver it.

Alone in his car, however, he could finally allow his emotions to come out. As he drove up the opposite direction of Dale’s car, a loud scream left his lungs. Pure rage evaded his body, as his eyes burned with tears he hardly fought against.

Why is it that when it comes to us it is always so messy? Why can’t we catch a break?, he thought. From day one, everything with you was confusing, borderline stressful most of the time. He wanted better, quieter and more peaceful days. If he was having a hard time with all that is happening, he couldn't fathom how she’d be doing right now. And the baby. It certainly wasn’t healthy for the baby.

The lights became blurry as he tried to wipe the tears away, and he had to slow down his car to not cause any unwanted accidents. With the lower speed, he could more carefully watch the sidewalks, the remaining open stores, and street corners, all looking for any sign of her. At a traffic light, red made him stop, and his eyes roamed his surroundings.

However, the blinking lights of a ‘C’ were what trapped his attention. It was a clinic. An abortion clinic. He had to swallow dry as he tried to watch its inside through the glass door. The mere idea of Yn going by it making his heart drop. If that idea ever crossed her mind, he didn’t know, but he prayed it never did. He grew attached to it too quickly. To the baby, and to her. He’d been planning, purchasing, painting and drawing a future in his head, where the two of them would be a part of. He wasn’t sure he could let it go.

When the lights turned green, his foot pressed hard on the throttle, speeding out of there before he got even more nauseous. One street turned into another, and another, and another. Still not a sign that you were around. He was growing more and more desperate as the rain got heavier and heavier. If his hands weren’t hard glued to the steering wheel, they’d be trembling tremendously. It had been long since he’d felt like this. Alone, lost and desperate. A sense there wasn’t much else he could do, and that all he did didn’t seem to work. And as every single second passed without you there by his side, his anxiety multiplied by millions.

The rain now poured, as if the sky was about to fall down. People rushed around, their umbrellas doing nothing to shield them from the water, and coats and jackets getting drenched as they looked for shelter. He was driving desperately, looking for anything, any sign, any indication that you were safe. He checked his phone for messages from Vanessa, or a call from his brothers he had begged for help.

Dick had called his colleagues, giving them Yn’s description, asking them to keep an eye out. Tim and Stephanie were looking for you in every camera they would hack in the city, and Damian was probably begging rats and insects to lead him Yn’s way.

A lighting strike hit the ground and illuminated the sky. And then he saw it.

Hidden in the darkened entrance of a now closed store, sat on the floor, curled down in a corner, was a girl. A bright orange suitcase laying beside her, a blue backpack resting on her side, as she had her face shoved between her knees. Shaking, from cold and tears. A girl that couldn’t be anyone but you.

He stopped the car without thinking. Without caring if there was anyone behind him on the road. He just wanted to get to you. Stepping out, he felt the rain soak his head and his shirt, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was that he’d found you. Shouting into Gotham’s dark and gloomy night, he called her name and rushed to your side.

Her head bobbed up as quickly as he ran, and it searched around for the voice was coming from. When she realized it was him, she pulled herself up from the floor swiftly and into Jason’s arms, tangling her own around his waist and letting her face fall into his chest. Her tears soaked his shirt quicker than rain had done, and she shook in his hold and her loud sobs filled Jason’s ears.

His heart broke in one million pieces. The sight of her crying once again, too much for him to handle. He couldn’t even care for the harsh way in which she had slammed against his body, he was just glad you were there. Safe and in his arms. Thus, he held closer and tight, one hand caressing her nape and he left soft kisses at her temples.

“Hey, hey,” he cooed. “I’m here, okay? I’m here. You don’t need to cry anymore.”

Vanessa and Dale didn’t take long to arrive, but Yn didn’t stop crying even after they arrived there. The two girls, tangled in a tight embrace, cried on each other’s shoulders and the rain dropped as heavy as their tears did. Jason, on the other hand, tried to dry his eyes without anyone noticing, wiping the sleeve of his shirt on his face and turning away.

“You gave that man a good punch out there,” Dale’s raspy voice began by his side, bringing his attention away from the walls. “I would’ve done just about the same if it was my girl who was kicked out like that. Your girl should be happy she has you.” He tapped Jason’s shoulder, that way boys always do, and Jason let out a chuckle.

His girl. Yn was as much his girl as he owned the moon, and yet, he couldn’t make himself correct him.

“I just hope she will be fine.”

“I’ve heard she’s a strong one,” she chimed.

“Yeah!” he agreed with a smile. “My girl really is.”

Watching the two girls, he noticed Vanessa wipe Yn’s tears away, pushing her away then bringing her back into another hug that made Yn give out a teary laugh. She seemed to have calmed down, as no more tears ran down frenetically down her cheeks and her breathing seemed to have eased. Jason, then, decided to walk closer, with the other man trailing just behind. Yn soon took notice, as she gave him a smile as he approached.

“Are you gonna be fine?” Vanessa asked, rubbing a hand over her arm.

“I don’t know,” Yn answered. Her voice was weak, hoarse and fragile. “I don’t have anywhere to go.”

Jason noticed her chin restart to tremble, and he was about to hug her again if Vanessa wasn’t closer and quicker. Over her friend’s shoulder, Yn’s teary eyes caught his, staring at him sadly. Pulling away from the hug, Vanessa made an offer.

“I can make some space in my apartment for you. It isn’t big but I guess I make it fit, right?”

Giving her friend a soft smile, Yn appeared to agree.

“No!” Jason protested, louder than he had hoped. “I have a spare room. I was planning on fixing it for our baby, but you can stay there. It’s yours. Besides, it would be more practical,” he explained. “I can easily take you to appointments, or even for work. I wouldn’t mind. And when the baby arrives, I can help you with taking care of it.”

He eyed Yn hopefully. “C’mon. I’m the baby’s dad. I wouldn’t be right if I didn’t help you out.”

“I just don’t wanna be a bother,” Yn said.

“Yn, you could never bother me,” he stated.

Staring at her, Jason waited expectantly. He knew she was weighing every option and considering every mild detail. But he just wanted her to say yes. He wanted to have her near. It wasn’t just convenient, it was necessary. To him it was. To have her close meant to always know if her and the baby were alright, safe and taken care of. He wouldn’t worry if she had arrived home, or if she had gotten sick at work. He would know. Because he would be there.

Yn took her time thinking, while Jason agonized in his spot. He had built too much hope in such a short amount of time, he was scared of how he would be if she didn’t accept his proposal. After all, he was just the stranger she was having a baby with, not her best friend. But a response came out, eventually. Nodding shortly, Yn offered him a smile and a watery stare. A stare that said everything she didn’t need to voice, but that he caught anyway. Thank you.

“I’ll miss my neighbor,” Vanessa cried out, and hugged Yn tightly by her side.

“I’ll miss you too, nugget,” Yn returned. “But I’m sure Jason won’t forbid you from visiting me.”

“Would I even have the chance to?” Jason asked playfully.

“No!” they replied in unison, bringing out laughter out of the four of them. Even though the rain progressively got worse, finally, the mood had lightened.

Vanessa offered her jacket so Yn could get in the car without getting wet, and Jason was about to take her bags when Dale stopped him before he moved. “Take care of your girl, I’ll take the bags.”

Nodding in gratitude, Jason instead moved to your side. “Did you manage to get a lot? I mean, out of your apartment. Into your bags?”

Yn only shook her head.

“I can ask Mr. Emmons for the spare key and pick up some of your stuff,” Vanessa said, walking beside her. “He loved you, I’m sure he’d make that exception for you.”

“Are you sure?” Yn asked. “I really don’t wanna bother anyo…”

“Yn!” Jason and Vanessa scolded in unison.

“I’m sorry,” Yn let out a soft laugh. “If you want to, I won’t complain.”

It was past midnight when both Vanessa and Dale left Jason’s apartment. With them, four trash bags full of Yn’s stuff were brought in, and thus started Yn’s moving process. The girls worked on taking notes of everything that had come in the bags, and of everything there was missing. Vanessa was going to play dealer for a few days, and weirdly, she was very excited for it.

While they worked on the bags, Jason and Dale took a look at the spare bedroom. It was nearly empty, except from a few gym items and boxes laying around. With the other’s help, Jason cleared out the room, sweeping the floors and the spider webs off the walls. Also, he made a promise to find her a bed, somewhere. No one cared enough for dinner that night, and the pair left as nonchalantly as they had arrived.

“You can stay in my bedroom tonight. I’ll take the sofa,” Jason explained, once the two of them were alone. “At least until I can get you a bed.”

“It’s okay,” Yn reassured, and left him alone to take a shower.

While she readied to go to bed, Jason made sure he picked up everything he would need to sleep in the living room out of his bedroom. He didn’t want to bother her by coming in and out of it while she was there. He knew she was going to be uncomfortable enough for today, this new arrangement requiring time to get used to. So, he changed into comfortable clothes, prepped his makeshift bed with pillows and blankets, and waited for her to come out of her shower.

The faint water noises coming from the bathroom mixed with the storm sound coming from outside, creating a relaxing atmosphere he was grateful for after all the stress he’d gone through. He could only hope Yn felt as calm as he did now, that she wasn’t hiding any tears from him in her shower. But he knew it was asking for too much, she was not going to get over it this easily. She had cried a lot in the car ride to his apartment, and when he passed by the bathroom door he could hear her sniffles.

It killed him to see her like that. He’d do just about anything to make her stop hurting. Sat on the sofa, he thought about everything in his reach he could possibly attempt to do to ease her pain, but none of them were possible this late at night. However, as soon as the door opened and Yn came out, her hair wet and fresh smell spreading through the whole apartment, his thoughts emptied out to just her.

“I guess I’m going to bed now,” she shyly stated. Jason simply nodded, too stunned with how she looked in just a plain t-shirt and pajama shorts to form any coherent sentence. “Goodnight, Jay.”

“Good night, Ynie,” was all he said as he watched her close his bedroom door behind her.

“And Jay,” she suddenly reopened the door calling out for him. “Thank you for letting me stay here.”

Her soft smile was genuine, adorable, and made his stomach spin. In normal circumstances, he’d have told her she didn’t need to thank him for anything. Tonight, though, he didn’t want to argue.

“You’re welcome,” he offered her a gentle grin. But I’d make this your home even if you had yours.

Upon his return to solitude, he hoped the sounds of the night would lull him to sleep. He was tired, and on any other night he’d have dozed off easily. However, tonight wasn’t the case. Even if he closed his eyes, even if he was curled up comfortably, he couldn’t seem to fall asleep. He continuously rolled and rolled until he got tired of trying. So he fished for the remote in the total darkness of the room, and turned on the TV, the volume on the lowest, to see if anything in there could make him sleepy.

He had found a cartoon. One of those late night, highly inappropriate ones, and actually found it to be mildly entertaining. But the creaking sound of the door was more interesting. Lifting his head slowly to look over the back of the sofa, he found Yn peeking out of his bedroom.

“Can’t fall asleep?” he asked, and she just nodded. “Come here.”

Sitting up, he made some space for her to sit beside him, making sure he left her with the softest pillows. Adorably, she sat down and immediately pulled her legs up to her chest, hugging it protectively, and resting her chin on her own knees.

“What are you watching?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. However, his attention was now far gone from the TV. “I just put it on to distract me. See if I could fall asleep to it.”

Moments of silence followed. Yn’s focus on the cartoon, while Jason was fixed watching her. She looked so serene, it didn’t even look like she had just been kicked out by her own father. He wanted to ask her if she was alright, but he feared she would get mad with how much he had asked it since they’d arrived home. He also wanted to hug her, feel the comfort of her warmth and maybe fall asleep to it, but he knew it would be too much for one single day. So, he was content with the light brushes he’d get on her skin.

“Nessie told me what you did to my dad,” she said suddenly, and Jason got nervous about what she thought of it. It was still her dad, even with all the pain he had caused. He was afraid she’d be mad at him for it. So, he had to explain himself.

“He deserved it,” he quickly added. His throat was dry, but he still insisted. “He deserved it for what he did to you. I could not…”

“I get it,” she broke him off. “It just… feels weird. I’m glad you did, but also not.”

He understood.

“I was mad at him at some point, and thought of doing it myself. But he is my dad. I don’t think I could do it if it ever came to it. Even if I collected all the anger I harvested throughout my entire life, I couldn’t lift a finger against him.”

Her head moved, now facing him with her cheek laid on her legs. Her eyes were intense, but sad. Glowing, but it wasn’t happiness.

“I get it,” he told her. “I really do.” And he continued to look at her till it gave him courage to finally ask. “Was he this bad your whole life?”

She shook her head. “He had his good moments. Few, but they were there. We just had to be doing something he’d actually be happy about.”

“He’d always make us take the classes he wanted. Go to places where he liked to go, and where his ‘friend’ could see him, you know, boast about how great his family was. Even our friends he got to pick. They had to be from church, and from rich families. People we could fawn over, grow attached to like vines. I guess he thought if we were friends with them, he would become friends with the parents, and what better than rich friends for you to parasite, right?

“I don’t even know how he let me come to Gotham in the first place. He made my sister marry young so she wouldn’t go away for college, so I don’t know how he didn’t try that on me too. I mean, he did try, but none of the guys were actually interested in pursuing me for him to insist on it… What?” he questioned when she heard him scoff.

“Why wouldn’t they be interested in you?” he let out before he knew it. Yn shyly hid her face from him before continuing.

“I kinda looked mad all the time.”

“Oh, really,” Jason mused, earning a slap on his bicep.

“I was just… an angry teenager,” he gave her a look. “And young adult too, okay?” she let out a brief laugh. “I don’t know why, I just was. Am. I don’t know. They were just always up my ass, and I guess it got me riled up. I could talk back to them, he might have killed me if I did. So I just… I just…”

“Stocked up with anger?” he finished for her.

“Yeah, I stocked up with anger. And didn’t know where to let it out,” she said, and went quiet for a while. “Was your family as insane as mine?”

“Sorta,” he scoffed. “They are wild, but not bad.”

He didn’t want to talk much, but she looked at him curiously. Almost begging him to talk.

“I was adopted when I was nine. My father had already adopted my older brother, and after me he got Tim, Steph and Cass, and then he found out he had a biological son that is just like him and annoying as shit. I’ll tell you, Damian is a lot. He adopted a cow and just told Bruce to deal with it. Kid is insane. ”

The girl looked at him baffled. A cow? Where would a middle class kid raise a cow in Gotham?

“That sounds… fun,” she gave him a big smile.

“Really?” he wondered.

“My family never did anything out of the ordinary,” she stated.

“My family doesn’t know what ordinary means,” he joked. The two of them laughed, TV show long ignored. Jason never forgot how, when she wanted it, her company could be so pleasant. He felt like she really listened to him, that she didn’t think his takes or stories were just a joke or meaningless. He actually enjoyed having her around, and hoped moments like this would become more frequent with her habiting the same place as him.

“You know,” he found the confidence to start speaking again. “I lied to you… That day at the doctor.”

Yn eyebrows frowned in a questioning look, and so, Jason continued. “I… My birth parents. I know who they are.”

He felt guilty that day. For lying so blatantly. But it was something too personal for him, something he hadn’t shared with many. It was a part of his life that still hurt him, even if years had passed, and he had finally gotten a new family. He wasn’t ready to share it then, not in front of a doctor, a total stranger. And he knew the risks of his lie. He was omitting important information for his baby’s health and future, but he wasn’t ready. In fact, he didn’t even know he was ready now. But Yn had been so honest, so open about that part of her life, one he knew now caused her much pain, that he felt the need to offer something back.

It was Yn’s soft hum that broke him from his thoughts and made him continue. “They were addicts. Very poor. I know they did the best the could to raise me, but their addiction was unstoppable. My dad started working with bad people to put food on the table. Last time I checked on him he was in jail. Might as well be dead by now, I haven’t cared to look him up.” His voice came out low, timid. A lump tightened his throat, making it hard for him to speak, but he still insisted. “My mom… She passed away. I’m not sure if it was the drugs, or if she got sick. I just remember her looking really bad.

“I was on the streets for a while, stealing tires and other things, when my father found me. He took me home, gave me food, and I haven’t left there ever since. I mean, I have my own home now, and life wasn’t easy there either, but they still are everything I have. I guess that’s why I grew attached to you so fast… I-I mean, the baby. The idea of the baby. I think I just wanted to have something that is really mine, that I can say I was the one to build and care for. My own family. I just got excited, you know. Let me show you something.”

Avoiding the tears by a millisecond, Jason stood up from his place and went to his closet. There, in the same place he had left it ever since he had bought it, he took the deep brown romper, with cute little ears and an even cuter fluffy tail. He saw it just a few days after Yn came to his apartment with the news he was going to be a dad, just as the idea started to settle in. He hadn’t told his brother, nor his father. The idea just lingering in his head, and once he found it on-line, he had to get it. He proudly got his baby’s first outfit on a whim. But it was too perfect to let it pass, and it was on sale too. It must have been a sign.

Walking fast back to the living room, he dropped at her side on the bouncy cushion. “I got this on-line I think two weeks ago. I thought it was adorable and I just needed to have it. I saw so many babies wearing those on the internet that I couldn’t stop picturing my own baby in one of them. Strolling around, you know. Stumbling on his, or hers, steps, or crawling around in it. Like an actual bear,” he let out a laugh, admiring the garment in his hand.

When he turned to look at Yn, though, he found her eyes watery. Her chin trembled as she bit her bottom lip, an attempt at making it stop. Jason wondered if he had said something wrong. If he had hurt her unknowingly. His own heart started to beat like crazy, bleeding pain upon her painful expression. “Yn? Did I say something wrong?”

“No!”, she cut him before he could finish. She dried her eyes with her hand and continued, “I’m just tired. It’s been a long day, Jay. I’m gonna head to bed.”

Placing a quick peck on his cheek, she might as well have run back to the bedroom. Her sniffles, barely audible. She left him alone, to his own torturing thoughts of what he might’ve just done to make her react like this. Or was it just the hormones? Did pregnant women just act like this?

No matter the answer, he stood in the darkness of the night and in the coldness of the rain. But the lingering burn of her kiss on his skin kept him warm, and could finally sleep soundly.

Sunday was quiet, and Nessie had spent the whole day by your side. Not much talking happened between you, her, or Jason. You just hung around, in silent company.

Jason, somehow, had gotten you a bed, and he and Dale, who had stopped by per Nessie’s request, built it in an instant. The room that was now to be yours wasn’t large, but it was enough. You had to learn to leave with enough now. Jason told you he would help you decorate as you wished, even though he had just painted the walls white in expectation of the baby’s gender. He sounded like he was full of ideas for a nursery, excitedly talking about items he had seen on-line or at stores. Nessie joked he might be the one nesting, and not you.

She left early this time, and your dinner with Jason was shared in silence. The two of them had tried to convince you to call in sick at work on Monday, to try to relax a bit more. Let your new reality sink in. But you knew you couldn’t. Sandra needed you, and you needed the distraction.

When morning came, the sun rays hit you straight in the face, the lack of curtains allowing the room to be bright and warm even if it was still early. You came out still in your pajamas, and immediately the smell of food filled your nose. The past few weeks of your pregnancy made you slightly wary of the smell’s potential to make you sick, but it was impossible to deny it smelled good and tasty.

“Good morning,” Jason greeted with a beaming smile. He seemed to be ready to head out to work. “I made you some breakfast. I’ve already eaten.”

“You got me feeling like a baby with all this food and stuff,” you commented. But it was true, he had been doing just about everything to make you feel comfortable and at home in his apartment.

“Hey! You are a baby,” he stated, and you scoffed. “At least while you don’t deliver my baby, you’re baby.”

You rolled your eyes at him, unable to hold back a smile. “Anyway, I have to go now. Are you really going to work today?” he asked. You just nodded. “Okay…” he breathed out. “If you need anything. And I mean, anything, don’t hesitate to call me. I’ll be ready to answer you whenever.”

“You don’t have to worry, Jay,” you started, but one notification from your phone stole your attention briefly. “I’ll be alright. I promise.”

Jason looked at you as if he didn’t believe your words. His deep blue eyes boring into yours as if he tried to catch your lie in them. With a deep and long exhale, he accepted, or at least he pretended, that you would be fine without him. “Still, call me, okay?”

“I will,” you promised. “But I don’t think I’ll need to.”

Sitting on the island stool, you took a look at the meal he had prepared you. It really did look as delicious as it smelled. But you suddenly weren’t hungry.

You watched him pick up his bags, put on his shoes and leave. The guilt eating at your chest the entire time. He waved you goodbye with a large grin, happy to be starting his week it seemed. Yet, this morning, you struggled. You couldn’t bring yourself to eat with the notification staring right at you. A memory of your darkest hour.

Picking up your phone, you read it one more time.

Clinic girl Are you still going to schedule your abortion appointment?

It still stung as strong as it did minutes ago, when you first saw it on your screen. Your mind battled with the idea, even though you knew your answer very well. The smell of the food suddenly was making you sick, and your appetite, by this point, had completely vanished. Rubbing at your temples, you decided on putting an end to it.

You It won’t be necessary.

Putting your phone away, you got up to change. And you changed quickly, just like your life had done. Quick and sharp like an arrow, or an assassin’s blade. Changing everything in its course. Soon, you were closing the apartment’s door behind you, taking one last glimpse of what your life had become. Of what your future was going to be. You and him. Your baby soon to come in.

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#jason todd au #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd #jason todd x you #jason todd fluff #jason todd x yn #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagines #jason todd blurb #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x female!reader

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howlett-n-morgan · 17 days ago

Text

More Than Words

1. Familiar Stranger

Logan Howlett x OC!Reader

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

Chapter Warnings: This might be a lot for the start of a series but: mild language, canon typical violence, mention of a witch trial, burning at the stake, death, mutant experimentation, and a depressive episode briefly described. Logan's claws come out lol... I think that's it but let me know if I missed anything.

Chapter Summary: Nightmares that were long forgotten come crawling back, seemingly without meaning, until everything falls into place with the arrival of a familiar stranger... and he gets nightmares, too.

Word Count: 6.5k

And now there was this Logan character. “Bulletproof, huh?” he didn’t seem skeptical, just unimpressed. “And fireproof,” you added with a small smile, turning and going down the hall to find the next open room. It was the one besides yours, and yes, you absolutely did that on purpose. “Forgive me for being forward… but I think I know you.” “You know me? Doubtful.”

The X gene - typically found in people with mutant family history - begins showing itself around the time of adolescence, usually blossoming in young teenagers. You remember the first time you realized there was something wrong with you. The year was 1780.

You were only thirteen, and were showing signs of something no one could put a finger on. The first instance was doing laundry with your cousin, Sarah, and dipping your hands into the water the same time that she did. Her hands started to burn, and she pulled her fingers from the basin quickly, only to find her hands were fine, and the water wasn’t even that hot. You thought that maybe it was a fluke, but then the second occurrence took place.

You’d been playing near the lake with some of your friends on your twentieth birthday, when a bolt of lightning struck you. Your friends gathered nearby to see if you were alright, but were baffled completely to find you standing there as if nothing had happened.

That was the day that time stopped, and you never grew older.

These were things that told you there was a difference within you, but you never knew how lethal it actually was until it reached its full potential. You only wish you’d been given a warning.

The day it all went for worse, and your life became hell, was actually a very sunny day. You woke up the same, got dressed the same, even went out back to milk the cow… but the second you touched her, she fell limp, collapsing to the ground. Your eyes widened in terror when you realized the lovely farm animal had lost her life in that split second, unable to move, or breath.

You ran back inside to tell your mother, but you were not careful, because how could you have known it was your fault? How could you have known your body was capable of this?

Your mother laid a hand on your shoulder to comfort you, and you brought your hand to meet hers. She too fell instantly, and it was then that you realized.

Your touch is death.

You clung to your mother, the last person you were able to touch, crying and wailing out.

That was the first of your crimes, but many men made the mistake of coming into contact with you that day, and it stands to reason why you have been sentenced to death. Witchcraft being their assumption on your methods, and mass murder being the charge.

You almost believed them. Almost thought that something evil was possessing you, making you do wicked and unholy things…

Standing tied to the stake by a man with thick leather gloves, all eyes were on you, waiting for your atonement. You saw every torch that was burning, closing your eyes and accepting the punishment. You killed your mother, and eleven men. There were enough witnesses to send you straight to your grave. You waited for the flames, and felt the heat when they finally set the fires, quickly approaching you. When your eyes opened, you could see the wall of fire over the hay bales, nearly ten feet tall and at every corner. It crawled up by you and then-

You sat up in your bed, sweat dripping from your brow, and the digital alarm clock going off in your peripheral vision.

It’s just another dream… but you haven’t had it in years.

You treat it like the rest, going about your morning like it never happened. You’d discuss it with Charles later, he seemed to know what your nightmares meant most of the time. He knew your mind better than most, and could enter with a single thought.

Downstairs, the commotion was rowdy, but you went ahead through the crowded space carefully and slipped on your favorite pair of forest green gloves, buckling the cute straps on the back as you made your way to the kitchen. Ororo had just brewed some coffee, and Scott was carrying two plates towards the doorway when you entered.

“Smells good,” you said, smiling at them both, and going for a mug from the cabinet.

Scott stopped short, turning on his heel to ask you a question.

“I forgot about this yesterday,” he started, looking over in your direction through his red shades. “Can you take a look at the School’s Enrollment system when you get a chance? I couldn’t add a new student and I’m not sure why.”

You nodded, pouring the coffee and giving him a look of confidence. “I’m sure I can fix it, probably just the computer again.”

“Thanks,” he smiled, going to leave again, but then remembering one more thing. “Oh, and Jean loves that book you lent her, she’s been up late reading.”

“I knew she would… if she wants anything else, my library is always open,” you replied jokingly.

He left afterwards, taking his plate of breakfast and his wonderful girlfriend’s out of the room.

“You do too much, y’know?”

You looked at Ororo, her eyes just barely peeking over her own mug.

“I like to keep busy,” you shrugged, taking a sip of the coffee and finally letting yourself settle into the morning. “And it’s not too much if I can help you guys.”

“You know that’s not what I mean… you’ve been looking exhausted.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“I’m not being critical, I’m concerned,” she said, stepping to lean against the kitchen island so she could look at you straight on. “If there’s something going on, you can tell me.”

Yes, you could tell her. She and Jean were the closest thing you’d had to a sister in years.

“The nightmares are back again… the last few nights have been a little rough.”

She pushed away from the counter, the look on her face reading confusion and worry. “I thought you were doing better.”

“I was,” you drank more coffee, eyebrows raised. “I don’t even know where they’re coming from. Some of these dreams I haven’t had for over fifty years. Usually they’re only about…”

“Charlie,” she finished for you when you trailed off. You nodded, your head falling forward a bit at the mention of his name. You hadn’t dreamt of him for a while, not even good things.

“I need to visit the professor after class, he can usually tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s probably best. Those dark circles will only get worse, believe me,” she joked, gesturing to her own eyes, a bit worn with exhaustion from working late this week.

“I’ll let you know how it goes,” you spoke with a small grin, finishing off your coffee in a big chug before rinsing the mug out in the sink. “Have a good class.”

“You, too.”

Looking out the window of Professor Xaiver’s office, you recalled the events of your nightmare, trying to put yourself back in the situation to see it clearly. It wasn’t easy, to relive these memories, even worse when they plagued your unconscious state… but Charles would know what it was about. He always did.

“Tell me again, first the cow, and then your mother?” He squinted, trying to put pieces together.

“Yes, I went out to milk the cow in the morning, like always,” you paused, the green grass outside the mansion reminding you of the pastures you lived by. “I touched betsy first, then my mother inside the house.”

All the little details should have painted a very vivid picture, but for some odd reason, nothing was coming together for Charles. He couldn’t see how this dream equated with your life as it was, and why it plagued you now.

“I’m sorry to say it, my dear, but this may just be a regular nightmare. I cannot, from what you have told me, recognize any pattern or significance.”

“There has to be something… I haven’t had this dream in years,” you argued, unwilling to give up when you know he’s the only one who can tell you.

He paused, closing his eyes and raking through the files of your mind to try and feel the impact of a cause… but found none. “I’m afraid the only thing I can offer is a theory. Your mind is subconsciously reminding you of your powers, what they mean. You’ve long since learned to control them, so I cannot imagine it is because of self doubt. Whatever it is, you may just have to wait and watch for more signs.”

“More signs? Like more dreams?”

“Something of that sort, yes. Until then, I’m sorry I could not help you.” He rolled his chair towards the door, following you out and into the hall. He had a meeting with Hank, and couldn’t afford to miss it.

“It’s not your fault… I’m the one who should be sorry. I’m always annoying you with problems that don’t have anything to do with you,” you joked slightly, walking alongside him until he met his destination.”

“And I am always happy to assist you.”

“I know,” you ducked your head, stopping at the door way he entered. “But I am grateful.”

“Take that gratuity and focus it on yourself. You need to rest, you look like a raccoon.”

You chuckled, closing the door for the man, and walking down towards the kitchen again. You only needed a small pick me up before you would inevitably take a very long nap. You’d been going on a few hours of sleep each night due to the grading of homework, and the bad dreams only made the nights worse. You were somehow thankful not to wake up screaming before your alarm went off this morning.

You headed upstairs to crash, only to find a note in your room from Jean.

Thanks for the book, I finished it today… gonna need the next one soon. - J

A small smile spread across your face when you saw the book had already been put back on your shelf, neatly placed among the organization you normally kept it in.

Your bookshelf spanned an entire wall, nearly becoming like a second library to the mansion for whosoever needed it.

You didn’t necessarily love reading, but you did love knowledge, and books were one of the only ways to obtain such a tricky thing.

Truth be told, you didn’t like a lot of learning methods, but again, you craved to know everything you could, to be not only educated but able to have a brain that could stand the tests of time. So far, it’s done a pretty decent job. Having been alive for over two hundred and thirty years came with some perks, one being, you can go to college as many times as you want, with only a different ID, and practically nothing can stop you from earning as many degrees as your heart desires.

When Charles first met you, he knew you were a mutant, but more than that, he knew you had the aptitude of a scholar. It was no wonder you excelled in his training. If only you just attained his powers of neurological exploration, there would be no stopping you.

You flopped backwards on the bed, looking up to your wall of diplomas and degrees. Master’s in Technological Sciences, Bachelor’s in Archival History, a silly little Associate's in Music Theory, mainly because you were feeling artistic, and lastly, the certification for practicing Law in the state of New York. You didn’t even go to law school, you’d just been bored for a while in the seventies, and the bar wasn’t that hard to pass for someone that’s been around since the first laws were written into the constitution.

All these degrees, all these years of mastering different types of knowledge, and yet you felt completely in the dark about your own mental state. You couldn’t even figure out what your own dreams meant, or why they were back in the first place.

You passed out cold while raking your mind for possibilities, finding none along the way.

It was a dreamless sleep this time, and for that you’d be grateful, earning some uninterrupted rest for the first time in weeks, not having to worry about waking up in a panicked sweat again.

You were supposed to take a thirty minute cat nap… maybe an hour at most. Looking at the clock as you came to, it was 6 pm, meaning two and a half hours had come and gone, and you had missed much of the after school activities..

“Shit,” you muttered to yourself, climbing out of the sheets and running to the bathroom to become a bit more human looking.

You'd run down the stairs to find the usual amount of commotion, but none of the adults were here, just the kids.

“Bobby?” You asked, making him halt his walk towards the next corridor. “Do you know where everyone is?”

“They left about a half hour ago. Something came up,” he turned to leave but stopped throwing a line over his shoulder. “Almost forgot… they left you in charge.”

“Great,” you mumbled, nodding to him in thanks for the information.

You were fine dealing with the kids, but being the sole adult present in a room full of on edge teenagers put you under some stress. The one person in this entire mansion that could kill someone with a single touch was left responsible for the safety of these younglings? It was a bad idea to begin with, but you took a deep breath, knowing you had to until they were back.

You only wondered what happened that they were gone so quickly, without a chance to tell you themselves.

The only way to control a mutant child is to just not even try, so with knowing you were now heading the household until everyone returned, you decided to just go and kick back in the main entertainment room. The more authority is pushed, the more the kids would resist. So you didn’t push at all, just started a game of uno with some of the kids.

“This isn’t that serious, just lay down a card!” John scolded the younger girl beside him, watching her shuffle through practically half the deck that she had in her hands.

“I have them organized, I’m looking for the blues,” Kitty explained, ignoring his futile attempts at winning faster. “If I’m gonna lose, I’m gonna take my time.”

“If you had a four or any color, that would have worked, too,” you shrugged, but ultimately let her keep shuffling through until she found a card she was satisfied with.

“Aha, reverse. And I know you just played your last blue card,” she mocked John, watching him roll his eyes and begin to draw new cards.

You laughed and little, seeing his deck grow bigger until he found a blue one.

“Well, that’s uno for me,” you said, laying down a blue five and waiting for it to circle back to you again. “Sorry, John.”

“Kitty I swear, change the color,” he begged, hoping there was something that could salvage the game for him. “She’s gonna win if you don’t.”

“I’d rather let her win, then we can start over,” she gestured to the large amount of cards in her hand, completely stacked with practically every color of the deck.

“Don’t be so competitive, it’s just uno,” you laughed, trying to lighten his mood over such a silly thing.

“It’s not just uno, you win at everything…” he trailed matter of factly, giving you a slanted look through his eyebrows. “It’s impossible.”

“I’ve been around a while longer than you have, maybe I’ve just picked up some tricks.”

“With uno?” He scoffed, finally coming to his senses and laughing a little.

“Maybe,” you smirk, laying down your last card and going out. “But there’s another game for ya.”

“Like I said, impossible.”

You smiled, watching them throw their hands into the pile so you could reshuffle and deal again. This may or may not have been the third game in a row. And yes, you tended to be good at the other board games kept in the entertainment room’s cabinets.

“Wanna go four for four.?” You asked, already knowing they would play with you, though you beat them every time.

But then you could feel something in the air, a tension that was coming from outside somewhere. You wondered if it could be a possible intrusion, so you stood up and looked out the window, the sun completely down by now.

“What’s wrong?” Kitty asked, standing up alongside you to try and figure out what you sensed.

It was growing, more anxious, and you realized then that it wasn’t an intruder at all, because the anxious energy was radiating off of familiar presences.

“Something happened,” you rushed to the back door, watching as the jet landed, sinking back into the earth where it usually came up from. The basketball court closed over top of it, and you could see the trees and grass and bushes become still when the winds calmed down. “You’ll have to play this round without me.”

“What happened? Where did they go?”

“I don’t know, let me find out. Make sure no one burns the house down, I’ll be back.”

And you rushed to the elevator, going down beneath the mansion to find the X central base. You heard the commotion as soon as you stepped off, all things pointing to the medical bay at the end of the long lit stretch.

Your legs carried your faster than they normally would, getting you there in seconds.

“Scott?” you called as soon as you saw him. “What’s going on?”

“Two new mutants, one in critical condition,” he began, pointing to the outline of a man on the surgical table, Jean doing her best to work on him with the help of Ororo on the side. “The other is with Charles, he’s trying to help her calm down, but she’s pretty shaken up.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Tell the kids, make sure they don’t panic?” he offered, and you nodded. You can’t touch anyone, so it was unlikely you could aid in either of their situations currently. “Maybe leave out the part where there’s a mutant in critical condition. We still don’t even know why they were attacked.”

“Was it a human group?” You asked, eyes flitting between both corners of the med bay. The chaos was still going on, everyone’s movements were rapid, and the girl in the corner was still crying in fear.

“No, it was them…”

“Oh,” you understood right away what he meant. Eric and his small gang of misfits that refused to coexist with the humans. They believed mutants were superior, and therefore should not have to conform to any nation’s rules or mandates. You partially understood them from a fear aspect, not wanting laws against mutants to be passed, or mistreatment of mutants for their abilities, but the way they go about it is always wrong, and harmful. They are clearly even willing to hurt other mutants to get what they want. “Are we any closer to finding them?”

“Nope,” he sighed, scrolling through the tablet in his hands and trying to find out if the tracker he placed actually amounted to anything. He would bet not, since the signal wasn’t even coming up. “Lost ‘em in the snow…”

“Snow?” You turned to him quickly, “where the hell did you guys go?”

“It’s a long story, you missed it when you were napping,” he partially joked, going back to his task. “I’ll fill you in later, just go make sure the kids know we’re fine.”

“Okay,” you nodded, turning on your heel and leaving. You didn’t run to the elevator this time, shaking off the feeling that something big was coming. You didn’t know what or why you felt it, but it was creeping up on you since you stepped off the elevator.

The next morning, the entire house was buzzing with the excitement of new recruits. You’d yet to meet them, but felt their energy in and around the house, coming and going from different rooms when you started to go about your day.

You knew that the time for introductions would come eventually, and likely when classes were over.

Everything had been nearly the same as the day before, except Scott didn’t have a computer problem that needed solving, so you actually got done with your other work pretty quickly. You went to get the mail that Hank always just left on the entryway table, trying to sort through so you could drop it off at each person’s individual rooms.

“Alice?”

“Yeah?” you mumbled without turning around, hearing Jean’s voice.

“I want to introduce you to some people. These are our new guests. Rogue, and Logan.”

You’d turned around during Jean’s introduction of the two new recruits, however short it was, like she needed to leave them with you. You understood this was a vital time for the team, and distractions weren’t welcome… but she’d only just now handed off said distraction, and boy was it one to behold. The girl was sweet looking, about fifteen if you had to guess, but the man? You look him over once and immediately you have a flash of deja vu. Dark hair, a soft grin, and pretty hazel eyes. He’s much taller than you, and you have to look up to meet his stare.

You smiled to them, giving a nod and placing your hands behind your back in the case they might want to shake one.

“Rogue has a mutation with similar effects to yours. If she touches someone for even a few seconds, they could die.”

You furrowed your brows when looked down at the sweet girl before you. What a sad thing to share with someone. You can see her whole life ahead of her, and the things she will have to endure just as you did, and it makes you feel compassion.

“I’m very sorry to hear that, I know how hard it can be,” you told her. She smiled and nodded this time, just as you did but in return. She seemed to be a shy thing, head dipping every so often to appear smaller than she was.

“Could you show them the open rooms? I’ve got to be back with Charles in a moment,” Jean rushed through, seemingly pressed for time. You were only all too happy to take them off her hands.

“Of course. Let me know what happens in there, will you?”

She nodded, squeezing your clothed shoulder before turning on her heel and heading down the corridor.

“So you’re like me?” Rogue asked, trying to make conversation now that she knew you had something in common.

“A bit, yeah,” you cocked your head in one direction, getting them to follow after you. “My body is made up of a few types of radioactive energy. One is regular matter, the other is anti-matter, but the third is something completely unknown to the human or mutant race.”

“How does it work?” She followed you up the stairs, and Logan did, too. He was listening, but didn’t give off the vibe that he was interested.

“Well, the instant I touch anyone, they die. The professor was the one who finally helped me learn to control the energy, though. Now I can use it to shield myself and others from dangerous attacks.”

“Attacks… you mean like guns and stuff? Are you bulletproof?!”

You smiled at her endless curiosity, boundless in asking questions that you barely even knew the answers to.

“Pretty much, yeah. Bulletproof, fireproof, everything really.”

“Whoa…” she trailed, and luckily, to stop the flow of questions, you turned down the hall and opened a door to an empty room.

“This one’s for you,” you smiled at her and let her walk through the doorway, almost immediately becoming more settled now that she had a place to stay. “Let me know if you need anything, I’m at the end of the hall.”

“Thank you.”

A smile, and a small dip of your head as you closed the door allowed her to relax.

And now there was this Logan character.

“Bulletproof, huh?” he didn’t seem skeptical, just unimpressed.

“And fireproof,” you added with a small smile, turning and going down the hall to find the next open room. It was the one besides yours, and yes, you absolutely did that on purpose. “Forgive me for being forward… but I think I know you.”

“You know me? Doubtful.”

“No, I definitely know you,” you opened the door for him, but didn’t intend on leaving yet. You didn’t say anything in front of the girl, but the moments you turned around downstairs, you recognized him from somewhere. The downside of living for over two hundred years is that maybe you didn’t always remember people years down the line. “The question is, how did I meet you?”

“Look, doll… I only have the last fifteen years of my memory, and all I really know is that I’m not human, and I can’t die either,” he paused, taking a step closer, but keeping a safe enough distance as to not make contact with the previously mentioned radioactive skin. “But even if I remembered before that, you’re too young to have met me.”

“Young?” you raised your eyebrows, not to mock or belittle him, but just shocked he would make such an assumption, especially knowing the school that he’s at right now.

“Yeah, young. What are you, nineteen?”

“Two hundred and thirty three this year,” you answered with a dull expression of normalcy.

For a minute, he didn’t know if you were being serious, but upon searching your face for more indications, he found nothing that told him otherwise.

“Really…” he reacted skeptical this time. “Got an ID?”

The joke was mildly entertaining, but if what he said was true, he wouldn't be able to tell you when or how you met. It was a dead end, and there were much more pressing matters downstairs.

“Let me know if you need anything. That's my door,” you pointed to the one beside his, and he nodded with a smirk. You absolutely did that on purpose.

“Will do.”

He didn’t bother you the rest of the evening, but you kind of wish he had…

Your cell was cold and binding, your claustrophobic tendencies getting worse with every day you spent here. Your body was broken, your legs crumbling beneath you whenever you would try to stand.

There was nothing you could do to help the pain, your energy was depleted from everything they took out of you, and you couldn’t even summon the strength to shield them if they come again. You know you'll die. The next time they come, opening your cage and dragging you through the halls in their self righteous futuristic looking uniforms. They always scoffed at your mistreatment. Mutants were the scum of the earth, and by torturing you and your kind, they thought they were doing mankind a favor.

The sirens that suddenly blared in your ears brought about a sense of danger that hadn’t ever settled in the cell block before. Something that was foreign and unknown. This had never happened before. It was always silent as mutants were taken and used for their abilities, experiments falling over most of them.

You thought that maybe the government had finally gotten ahold of Striker and his plans, ready to shut down the program and finish the job. Humans these days hated anything that was different from them, most of all the mutant race.

You braced yourself, curling into the corner of the cage and closing your eyes. It would come any minute now. The blow of death while you were unable to shield yourself.

You heard the cage squeak on its hinges, but there was no blow of death, only kind words from someone you've never met.

“C'mon, get up… we're getting you out,” he said, pulling you from your feared bracing and making your eyes shoot open. Your arms and legs were bare in the clothes they gave you, meaning your skin was open to be touched.

He grabbed at your arm, and you couldn’t even stop him… but he didn't fall, he continued to help you up, shouldering you out of the cell and onto your own two feet. By now the adrenaline kicked in, and you were able to walk through the pain, knowing this was your only shot to be free.

“Who are you?” You asked in wonder. You met his eyes, and they were the most beautiful you think you've seen. Hazel, with gold in the middle.

“Just someone that wants to help,” he said, letting you fend on your own now that he could feel your legs carrying you on their own. He went to help more, and you had to try and shake him from your mind just for the moment. There would come a time when you could ask questions, but now was for you to run.

You caught up with one of the groups heading for the exit, and came across a few guards. You wondered if you even had your power anymore. That man, he touched you and survived. That's never happened before. Your skin is death, and no one escapes the reaper…

You touched one of the guards with your open flesh and he instantly died upon contact. And that could only mean one thing. The mutant who was saving everyone was immune to your powers, and nobody else was.

You have to find this man, but going back would almost mean certain doom for you, and you can't bring yourself to die yet. There's more life left to live.

Once you escape the bunker, coming outside to a clearing, there waits a man in a wheelchair, rolling down from a hovering jet… and you know that jet. It belongs to-

“Charles?” You murmur, and within an instant, he was back in your head for the first time in over ten years. “Is it really you?”

“It's really me. I must look different than last time we met,” he smirked, handing you a pair of gloves and letting you lean on his chair to walk up the ramp. The others followed, and then the jet took off, no time to waste. “But you haven't changed at all.”

You collapsed into the seat closest to you, and then -

You sprung up from your pillows.

This nightmare wasn't even a nightmare. It was still a memory, but not a bad one. It was something you tried to forget, but of course there was a single detail that could not be wiped from your memory if you tried.

Logan.

He's the man that saved your life all those years ago. And more than that, he's the only person in the world you've met for over two hundred years that can touch you.

It’s late, and when you turn to find that your clock says three in the morning, you hesitate… but things like this never happen, so your ability to wait until the sun at least rises is completely destroyed. You throw the sheets and comforter off your bed, and forget modesty in your haste. Wearing only the tiniest shorts from your dresser and the only clean shirt on hand, you made a quick trek from your room to the one next door.

Knocking was out of the question, obviously. He’d be asleep, right?

When you barged in, he seemed to be having the same conundrum as you only a few minutes ago. His brows were furrowed, his mouth twisted in a look of something painful. Perhaps the very reason you were awoken from your slumber was to assist him with his… or maybe you were delusional and needed to go back to your room.

“Logan?” you approached gently, sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching out for him. You wanted to calm him down if you could, he looked so scared in whatever dream he was having.

He startled awake with lightning speed, his reactive senses making him sit straight up in bed, claws out and ready to attack. You yelped and fell off the bed, leaving a loud thunk on the ground. The amount of terror rushing through you suddenly left for the oddest reason.

Looking down, your arm had been cut in three parallel lines. Not deep enough to severely wound you, but enough that you could feel the sting, and see the blood rising to the surface of the skin. You didn’t think you could bleed.

“Alice?” He calmed down, immediately worried over what he’d done. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”

“It’s okay,” you looked up at him, a look of utter joy on your face and he had no idea why. His confusion soared even more when instead of running from him you pulled yourself back up onto his bed, leaning closer.

“Are you… alright? What’s going on?”

“I remembered you. Where I met you,” you explained, getting even closer and making him nervous, considering your specific mutation he’s heard so much about. You completely forgot about your arm, leaving it for later.

“Where?”

He was eager to remember anything about his past before the blank space. He wanted badly to know where he comes from, and if you had anything to do with how he got here. He knows it’s probably a slim chance, since you had to try hard to remember him upon his arrival.

You closed the gap and reached your hand out to his arm, and he flinched away. “Are you crazy? You could kill me.”

“No, I can’t,” you told him, watching his eyes as you finally reached again and touched his skin. He didn’t drop dead, or have any other side effects for that matter, and you breathed out in relief, a smile spreading across your face.

He was again confused, and more so shocked. His features couldn’t comprehend how this was happening if what everyone said was true. You’d killed people even accidently with the brush of an elbow, so how is he still living and breathing, your hand on his forearm?

“How did you know?” He wondered, his full focus now on what you could tell him.

“Does the name William Striker ring a bell?” You squinted, knowing it was a longshot, but hoping he might know, anyway.

“It sounds familiar, but I don’t recall a face or a history to go with it.”

“He gave you these,” you reached for his other hand, claws still drawn from his nightmare. “And he gave me these…”

You gestured to the scars on your legs and raised your shirt slightly so he could see the ones on your torso. All healed over by now but still reasonably protruding if you stare at them too long.

“He’d held so many mutants captive, but you set us free,” you watched as his claws retracted back into his skin, and then you took his unclenched hand. “You saved my life.”

“I don’t think that was me,” he shook his head. He doesn’t remember who he was, but he knows who he is now, and it couldn’t be that far from his past self… yet you spoke of him as though he were some caped figure with an agenda for fighting bad guys. “I don’t do things like that.”

“Logan,” you huffed, unwilling to let him negate himself, especially when you’ve waited all these years to talk to him again, to give him the gratitude you felt he deserved. “I have been alive for over two hundred years. During that time I have been all over the world, met as many mutants as there are stars in the sky… and not one could touch me, until you. I know it was you who saved me.”

“I’m no hero, kid…” he shook his head, his eyes falling to the cuts on your arm, the blood getting thicker and threatening to run down the expanse of your arm and onto your shirt.

“You were to me,” you smiled sweetly. “You saved my life that day… and so many other mutants. Scott being one of them, he just doesn’t remember.”

“I saved Scott?” he cringed, and you laughed, having gotten notes of their instant rivalry in the energy around the mansion.

“Yes, you did… and I never got to thank you for it, so… thank you.”

He nodded, still unsure of this past exchange and how much he had to do with it. You clearly remembered being helped by him. Enough so that you were willing to bet his life on whether or not he could touch you. He feels bad, now, seeing the red begin to run down your arm, he certainly doesn’t feel like a hero, and his actions don’t show him being one, either… but he can do something about that.

“Can I help you with that?” He pointed to the bloody open wound, which had been ignored until now.

“I’ll take care of it, it’s not too bad.”

“No, I wanna do it… I’m the one that put it there,” he sighed when he stood up from bed, going into the hall and finding the bathroom. He’d seen a first aid kit in there somewhere.

When he comes back he looks clueless on how to even open the box.

“It has a child lock on it, lemme see,” you reached, and he batted your hands away softly, figuring it out himself.

“I’m not a child,” he retorted dryly, reaching into the box and finding the proper supplies.

He did decently, you’d have to say. Started with the cleansing wipes, then moved on to the antibacterial treatment and gauze wraps. Finished it off with a good layer of medical tape, securing it with a soft movement of his hands. They looked rough, but had been nothing but gentle.

“You do this a lot?” You asked, wondering if perhaps it might trigger a memory.

“Not to myself, and not to anyone else I can remember.”

“Well you did a good job.”

He nodded in thanks, and you went to stand up. Going back to your room seemed like the thing to do, and you wanted to let him get back to sleep.

“You don’t have to go, if you don’t want to.” His words halted you in your step, making you sit back on the bed where you’d been since arriving, minus the brief trip to the floor. “I usually don’t sleep after…”

“Nightmares?” Your soft question had him giving a small dip of his head, slightly embarrassed. “I get 'em, too. Not usually so much as lately, but I get 'em.”

And when he reached for your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, you had no longing to go back to bed. You’d stay up the rest of the night with this man to ensure he didn’t let go of you. It was here that you decided he could touch you for a reason, and you weren’t going to let it go to waste.

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