#there's the beginning then a flashback then a time skip back to the beginning

[venomnyx]

HOUSE IN NEBRASKA — Logan "Worst Wolverine" Howlett x Mutant!Reader AO3 version Spotify Playlist

WORD COUNT — 15.4k SUMMARY — Reader gets roped into saving the timeline with ex-best friend Deadpool, coming face-to-face with a variant of Logan that uproots memories she'd long suppressed, only to find that this version of him lost her in his universe, too. TAGS/WARNINGS — she/her pronouns (minimal usage), female anatomy, flashbacks in italics, angst, enemies to lovers, alcoholism, smoking, arguments, canon typical violence, cursing/bad language, Deadpool breaks the fourth wall like twice, canon behaviour worst wolverine, religious trauma, honda odyssey scene self-insert, eventual smut, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, dirty nasty talk (logan has a filthy mouth), mentions of cocaine literally once. smut is marked after last divider if you want to skip plot but i'll kiss you if you don't!

You’re smoking a cigarette on your porch when the snowfall happens. It would be normal, you think, if it weren’t for the fact that it’s dead in the middle of July. A group of nanas, elbow-deep in the community garden soil, glance up to the sky and begin muttering prayers amongst themselves.

You’ve lived in this safe house for a while now, up in the mid-west of the Appalachian mountains, surrounded by thickets of pine and opposite a bubbling creek. You grew up somewhere near here and the locals welcomed you back with open arms and a plateful of hot food when the humans started the culling— when the X-men fell apart.

It has plenty of benefits. The smell of lavender, for one, and your cat, Kevin, loves chasing the pigeons, even if he’s not the most successful hunter. The locally sourced produce means you can avoid the poisoned food they’re distributing in supermarkets.

But, most importantly, the humans can’t find you out here. You’re lucky the gossip of your… genetics, so to speak, doesn’t leave Sunday morning church.

Things have been different, lately. The trees are shedding down to dust, people are disappearing at an exponential rate, and there was a time when you’d be on the front lines helping them. You’re on the edge of your seat waiting for the call — a learned habit — but it’s never coming. Charles is dead. Logan is dead. The X-men are dead.

The snow is warm when it lands on your skin. It feels like rot, and your solitude suddenly feels lonelier and more daunting than ever.

You reach to take a sip of your steaming coffee when you hear movement. A zipping strobe light crosses your vision and you flinch against the intrusion, but you’re not afraid. You’ve surely survived worse.

Stryker worse.

A comical and confused looking figure pops out from an orange portal, scratching the crown of his head over the red and black mask on his face. You sip your coffee as you observe him nonchalantly.

He notices you and approaches with a dainty point of his finger.

“Um, excuse me, ma’am.”

“Well, well well,” you suck on your cigarette with a frown. “Look what the cat dragged in. Got a new suit, Red?”

“What, aren’t you happy to see lil’ old me?”

“You’re on my property,” you say matter-of-factually. You had a shotgun stowed away inside for emergencies, but frankly, you never had to use it. You were enough of a weapon yourself. Consider it insurance, if the corn-syrup they’re poisoning ever finally makes it way to you.

You glance sidelong at the old ladies in their aprons, clutching one another with stern gazes in your direction. The deal was that you didn’t bring trouble their way — but it looks like trouble found you. You narrow your eyes and silently hope that this doesn’t turn messy, as it so usually does where he’s concerned.

He sighs heavily and continues approaching regardless. You analyse his stature and take notes of the weapons on his holsters and back. You reckon you could take him if it came down to it, but he didn’t seem threatening.

You and Wade used to be friends, but after isolating yourself from grief, you don’t necessarily consider yourselves to have a close relationship. More often than not he brought trouble; hence your defensive response.

“Listen, ants in your pants, I’ve done this about a hundred times,” he huffs and places a hand on his hip, waving the device around in his hand. You take another drag of your cigarette and perk your brows before rising to your feet.

“I’ve had my spleen shattered by the Hulk, about eighty stab wounds…”

He rambles on about his collection of injuries and you tilt your head with amusement. Must be another one of his famous mental breakdowns. This might be entertaining, at the very least.

“…You’ve even killed me a few times in different universes!” He claps his hands together. “And frankly, I was just going to let you die here. You’re not even canon, so you won’t be missed, but you appear to be of use to me. So I need you to come with me. Now. Please.”

What on Earth was he talking about? What on Earth was he ever talking about?

You bark a laugh. “I ain’t going anywhere with you, Red and Black.”

“Will it change your mind if I add a cherry on top?” He asks with a dry laugh before nodding enthusiastically. Manically. “You’re coming. Kevin’s life depends on it.”

“What are you talkin’ about? Are you threatenin’ my cat? That’s a new low, Wade.”

“Is it? Is it really? I am certain that I can go unfathomably lower.”

You roll your eyes, half-way through turning your back on him.

“You see this?” He holds out a gloved hand and catches some snowflakes. He rubs them between his fingers and they spark and fizzle before dusting away. “That’s not snow. That’s time death. Our universe is dying, womp womp. Stay here, sure! By all means, but—”

Your cat launches out of the door behind you, chirping and meowing to himself before promptly dashing through the portal and disappearing into the blurry void on the other side.

“Well. Looks like he made his choice.”

He sighs and lets you process. You take the final swig of your coffee and huff a breath.

“You literally have nothing left to lose. Trust me. I know. I’ve seen all kinds of you and, believe me when I say this, even though I love and cherish this version of you, this—” he points two fingers at you and gestures towards you judgmentally. “— isn’t the best look on you, honey.”

You want to dismiss him. You want to turn him away, to tell him to get lost. Grief swallowed your heroism whole, turning it into a barren wasteland of bitter indifference. You used to be bright, full of light, love, and hope.

Fucking hope. It’s the reason Logan left you to help Charles in the first place. You just wanted to settle down and disappear, to live a normal life. You lost an intrinsic part of your being when he died; you remember feeling it before you heard the news. Fucking hope.

Hope, hope, hope. Nana Rose chants on about it when she clasps your hands with her wrinkly ones, dragging you to church in spite of your atheism.

“And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts,” she chants, basket of flowers on her hip. “Romans 5:5. You’d do well to do your readin’, tulip.”

You didn’t and don’t ever usually believe a word she says, but you can feel her faith. It’s solid as steel, pouring out of her like blotting light through the gaps in the trees. Undying. And you’ll be damned if you let anything happen to her.

A flicker remains. You imagine what Charles would say to you now, how you’d hang onto his every word and he’d bring out the better of you. You truly do have nothing left to lose, except maybe your cat. Over your dead body.

“Come ooon,” he pokes his fingers together. “Fancy being a hero? One last time?”

You take the final drag before stubbing the cigarette out on your railing. “Alright, Red. I’ll bite.”

“Then suit up.”

Your friendship with Deadpool was a rocky one. There was a time you told him you’d be there for him through everything, and you technically owed him one for saving your life that one time even though your ego insists that, to this day, you could’ve taken the fight. That’s what heightened cellular control of your body is for, right? Accelerated healing? Empathetic abilities? Faster reactions, enhanced strength— you get the point.

Though you didn’t realise that returning the favour meant following him through space, time and alternate dimensions, you were a person who stayed true to their word, and you hated being indebted to someone.

So, here you were, waking up in the middle of a barren wasteland that was seconded as a cocktail soup of abandoned universal relics and heroes ripped from their worlds, accompanying your ex-best friend to restore your timeline.

But, one thing about paying someone back, it doesn’t technically count if they lie to you about the terms and conditions of the agreement. Only a few mere moments after you come to, dazed by the impact and the blaring wobbly heat of the sun, you rise to watch as Deadpool takes six blades of Wolverine to the chest.

You’re still a little dizzy when you stagger to your feet, head throbbing, as you’re trying to process if, yes, that’s exactly what you were witnessing.

“Let’s see you grow your fuckin’ head back!” Wolverine growls.

Deadpool holds his hands up in surrender. “Wait, wait, wait! I can fix it! I can fix it!”

The man in yellow hesitates. “Fix what?”

“Whatever it is that you did, whatever made you so bad—” Wade pants, catching his breath. “Those pricks at the TVA, you heard ‘em. They have the power to end my universe, but they also have the power to change yours. We get back there, and we can fix your world! Together. I promise.”

You stumble from around a pile of debris, clutching your side as a rib pops back into place. Wolverine sniffs the air, face blanching as he snaps to look in your direction.

When you first make eye contact with him, it feels as though you’re resurfacing from water after being on the precipice of drowning. Your heart leaps into your throat, adrenaline boils your veins and your lungs burst with relief of breathing.

“Troubles always gonna find you, baby,” Logan murmurs, kissing his way up from the pulse in your throat as he rocks against you. “But so am I.”

You’ve never loved him more, you think, than when he fucks you slow like this. A snowstorm rages outside the cabin, howling full of glass and needles and rattling the window frames. His skin against yours burns a fire within you, warming you to the bone. He sweeps hair away from your face before capturing your mouth in his, swallowing the sounds of your pants, threading his fingers between yours.

You could stay here forever, you think.

Your fingers shake from the whiplash of the memory. You instinctively reach towards him but you catch yourself. This was the husk of him, not your Logan. The realisation feels akin to ripping open a haphazardly sewn wound right down to the fatty yellow flesh, raw and needling and sore.

He’s broader than you remember. Hair a little darker, wrinkles a little deeper. He smells of alcohol and cigars — that much is familiar. That’s him, flesh and adamantium bone, living, breathing. Alive. The physical shell of him prods alive parts of your inner circuitry that you weren’t aware had fallen asleep, like intrinsic nerves untangling within you.

You can sense that he knows you, too, based on his emotional response. His noise is extremely loud, spilling out of the cracks of whatever wall he thought he’d successfully built up. This version of Logan certainly had a lot of secrets.

“You,” he whisper-growls. It’s almost intangible, leaving him like a breath. He pulls his blades promptly from Deadpool’s chest and kicks him backwards.

You’re starting to understand that faith thing that Nana Rose was knocking on about when he strides towards you, large and tall. You certainly weren’t a believer by any means but you’re sure you’d be the picture of unbridled worship for the way you’d fall to your knees for him.

Your empathetic power lurches for him, seeking him out as you used to — like a flower to the sun — but it physically recoils from the aura that it touches. It was all your Logan but not in a familiar way. It’s tainted, dark, and it tastes like copper and screams.

All colour melts from his face and his body shuffles in a way that indicates discomfort; a dry swallow, tense shoulders and flicking eyes that refuse to meet your gaze. He omits feelings of guilt and shame that linger on the tendrils of your empathetic powers where you connect with him.

You try to zone Wade out, squinting as you attempt to navigate through his cobweb of emotions (seriously, this guy’s aura could do with a cleanup) but it’s like wading through black-tar syrup, feelings negated by years of alcohol-abuse and avoidance. Eventually, you feel something that makes your guts twist and your legs shake: a version of romantic attraction and recognition so carnal and raw that you begin to blush, a warmth that creeps its way up from your belly. A breath escapes you like a punch.

“Well. This feels awkward.” Wade glances between you both and places his hands on his hips. “Why do you both look like you’ve seen a ghost? Do I need to call Egon Splegler and tell him to bring his ghost sucky-sucky vacuum? Oh my god—” He slaps his hands to his face and gasps sharply. “Cross-Universal lovers?”

As inappropriately timed and tone-deaf his one-liners could be, you’d never been more appreciative of an icebreaker. You think you could’ve stood there for an hour, frozen in silence, staring at a reanimated corpse, basking in the noise of his emotional frequency like an addict finally getting another hit.

But then the noise stops, swallowed up like a heaving black hole had split and atomised the tension whole with its unforgiving jaws. He closes himself off from you. Connection severed. You reach out and feel a cold nothingness similar to how, on particularly rough nights, you’d try to reach out to him after his passing. You’d clung onto his plaid shirts until the smell and emotional residue wore off of them.

“You with the mouth? To fix things?”

You nod tightly. You don’t think you can find your voice in front of him.

“Let’s just keep moving. And stay out of my head,” Logan grumbles, crossing you with a cold shoulder and mumbling something incoherent under his breath. When he’s made enough distance, you turn to your old friend with a cold glare.

“Ooh, brr. Anybody else feel a chill?”

“Wade.”

He twists towards you comically slow.

“You. Motherfucker.” You begin approaching him. He backs up slowly and holds his hands up.

“I knew if I told you the plan you wouldn’t have gone along with it!”

“Are you insane? You think multiversally grave-robbing my fucking dead ex-boyfriend is going to save our timelines?!” You yell.

“Technically he’s not dead—”

You push him. “He should be! He- he was— he is!”

“Well, this one isn’t!” He pushes back. “And I’m not sorry for finding a loophole in the plan to fry — not just mine, mind you — but both of our timelines! Did you happen to forget that? No multi-dimensional depressed Logan? Alright then! No more Kevin!”

He’s talking about your cat. Anger flares.

“Don’t you dare bring Kevin into this.”

“You forced my hand!” He yells, mouth moving alien-like behind the mask on his face. “Besides, I’m not doing this for me—”

You blink your eyes closed. You might reach the end of your tether if he said her name one more time. You’ve been in his company for approximately an hour, and he’s already drilled a hole into your brain with his incessant yapping about the “love of his life”.

“Wade, you need to move on. She clearly has.”

“I will not move on from the only people I love in this fucked up dimension. This isn’t just for Vanessa.” He shoves a glossy photograph in your face. “This is for you and blind Al and even that shit-head teenager and her pinkie-pie girlfriend! They deserve their timeline!”

“I literally don’t care about any of those people!”

Even yourself?

“Well, I do! I have people I care about! Aren’t you supposed to be a hero? God, all of you X-men are so depressing. Is it the suits they make you wear? Is that it? Can’t breathe in that thing?” He continues poking at you. “Loosen up a little!”

You straighten your posture and the black leather of your suit crackles. You swat his hands away as he continues poking. “Alright! Cut it out!”

“Think of Nana Rose.” He draws a heart with two fingers. “Little old ladies like her deserve a chance, don’t they?”

And even though humans had done nothing but wage war on your kind for simply existing, you still felt obliged to help them. Besides, the thought of other mutants — kid mutants — dying when you hold the chance to save them in the palm of your hand? You were hardly managing as you were now. You’re not sure you’d be able to live with yourself if you kept going like this.

“Alright, alright!” You huff, heart pounding in your chest. You look over at where Wolverine kicks at rocks in the distance. “Fucking hell, Red. Holy fuck.”

You say it again, only this time you scream it into your hands.

“You should’ve warned me.”

“Are we good?”

“Are we go—” You scoff. You kick his ankle, feel the bones shatter and crunch beneath your foot. He lets out a short, high-pitched yelp. “You deserved that.”

“Motherfuckermotherfucker… oh you’re lucky I feel bad about lying to you or I would’ve twisted your milk bags off for that I swear to God.” He sucks in a breath. “I’ll allow it. Just this once.”

“Mhm,” you murmur, walking forward. “That doesn’t sound like an apology.”

He limps after you, floppy ankle dragging a line in the sandy dirt. “I’ll be dead before you ever get one of those out of me! And too bad I can’t fucking die!”

The difference between this Logan and your Logan is stark, minus the uncanny resemblance. Your Logan was soft and gentle, but this version is sharper and blade-edged, and your fingers bleed when you try to touch him.

Staring at him feels like throwing up a mirror and analysing yourself, a picture of what happens to a person when they make all of the wrong choices. You’re embarrassed, almost. This isn’t a version of you that you ever want him to know, but at least you can say you’re trying.

Him, on the other hand…

“Are we going to keep up the awkward silence?” You snip, awkwardly adjusting the restraints on your wrist.

You’ve been in Logan’s company for all of an hour, and yet accompanying one another through literal time purgatory didn’t seem to irk any feelings of obligation from his end. He’d been cold-shouldering and ignoring you the entire time, even though you kept catching him staring.

“I have nothing to say to you,” he spits, wriggling uncomfortably against a very unconscious Deadpool. “You got us into this mess.”

You frown, small. You can feel hatred pouring out from him, leaving a sickly bile taste in the back of your throat. You’ve lived through enough hate for being a mutant in your lifetime, enough that you’d become accustomed to tuning it out of your radio channel, so to speak, but something about it coming from the man you loved makes it a little harder to swallow.

You’re quiet when you next speak. “Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be.”

He shoots you an indistinguishable look and grunts to himself. Such a Libra.

“So, what’s the story here?” Johnny asks with a sly grin. He turns to you with a glimmer of mischief in his eye. “You two know each other?”

You cringe. “Sort of. Last I remember, he wasn’t this much of a prick.”

“Oh, trouble in paradise, huh?” His grin grows. “That’s a shame. Not often we get girls like you in the void.”

“Seriously?” You say with a side-eye.

He shrugs, all blue-spandex biceps and charming smile. “No harm in trying.”

Your breath hitches as Cassandra approaches, wide eyes and tilted head aiming for you purposefully. Logan swiftly angles his body so that he’s standing in front of you and she halts as a delighted, implicating smile stretches across her face. Your chest constricts, tendrils of yearning coiling tighter. It appeared to be muscle memory: his instinctual, protective flinch. Just like your Logan used to, despite how capable he knew you were.

“Now, I’ve always wanted a Wolverine.” Her finger moves along the crowd. “Knew I’d get one eventually. But I never even dreamed of having you.”

Cassandra zips behind you and her slender fingers delve into the crevices and valleys of your brain, lips intimately close to your neck and ear. Wolverine snarls territoriality, but he’s unable to move. The urge to reach for him is overwhelming.

“Do you know that there are so few universes where you exist?” She whispers, caressing your deepest memories. “I even asked the TVA about you, in exchange for keeping the peace. I was disheartened when I found out one of you died. But you’re here! Now, I don’t believe in fate, but this almost feels like it was meant to be.”

You flinch when she uncovers a particularly fond memory, one you hadn’t been aware was so prominently in the forefront.

In the back of his truck, a cigar between his teeth, hands sliding under your shirt. In another world, he would’ve taken the time to do this properly, but living in a school didn’t exactly grant two consenting adults any privacy.

“Waited long enough for this.”

He kisses up from your bare foot to the sensitive skin of your inner knee, lips scorching against your skin.

“Logan…”

“Easy,” he murmurs, leaning away for a moment to remove his plaid overshirt, leaving himself in that white vest you could eat him alive in. “Still wanna take my time with you.”

You’re desperate, he can tell— can probably smell it, too, but you’re far too humiliated to ask him if he can.

Logan wasn’t your first by any means, but with the way you were near trembling for him truly felt like you’d be losing all of your innocence in the back seat. You’re shy and quiet, everything he isn’t. You’re infatuated with him — have been since he burst out of the lab in his grey hoodie — and have daydreamed about what it would be like to have him. You certainly didn’t let him know that right away, and with whatever shred of composure remained around his relentless flirting and teasing remarks, you tried to play hard to get.

Until you couldn’t. Because you weren’t. He had you, and with every fibre of your being, you wanted him to.

She pulls her hands from your brain with a shlick sound, rubbing her fingers together as if relishing in the produce of your memories. She grabs a rag from her pocket and smirks knowingly.

“You’re thinking of that at a time like this?” She laughs all witch-like. “Worry not; your secret’s safe with me, naughty girl.”

Wade lowers his voice and leans towards Logan. “She was thinking of me.”

“I can read between the lines, darling,” she potters on. “This isn’t about a sexual fantasy. Deep down, you just want to be wanted. To be loved.”

She steps back and extends her arms. “After all, you’ll never amount to anything in your world. It’s such a shame that your Logan left you so abruptly. Did he break your heart?” She giggles. “Why suppress your powers in his name? For a level-five mutant, you certainly don’t act like one. You can do that, here. Freely!”

Your worn thin tether creaks with exhaustion like a dilapidated bridge under pressure. There isn’t a singular fibre of your being that desires to be stuck here, but the small, angry teenage voice in your head would love nothing more than to just let go. You’d been containing your powers for as far as you can remember, and they'd always been as irresistible as the promise of Pandora's box.

But you know how that story ends.

You take a moment’s pause. “I have no interest in livin’ in a garbage dump.”

She tilts her head and neatly clasps her hands behind her back. “Do you forget where you come from? I think we both know who lives in a garbage dump.”

“You motherf—”

You’d just managed to escape Cassandra’s lair with Alioth’s foggy storm fangs nipping at your ankles when you ran across the abandoned diner.

You’re ravenous, wrist aching from how you dig at the freezer-burned ice cream. It’s your least favourite flavour but you’ve been running on fumes for the past day or so, so you’ll take what you can get, though you begin to lose your appetite when you remember Johnny, and how Cassandra had zipped the skin from him like popping a blood-filled water balloon.

Something is rumbling beneath your surface. A distinct, constant buzzing, like two atoms slowly building up radioactive energy. You’d asked for none of this, and would certainly give Wade a talking to when the time called for it, but, for now, you’re trying your hardest to make this as easy a process as possible.

Your male counterpart, however, was doing exactly what men generally do. He was making this fucking unbearable.

Logan sits across from you, brooding, fingers gripping the medicinal bottle as if it’s anywhere near appropriate to be drinking. He throws you a particularly lingering glare when he notices you staring, but refuses to maintain eye contact when you look back at him

You toss the tub and spoon across the table with a sharp clatter, your patience collapsing.

“What? Can’t even look at me?” You snap. His eyes look exhausted when they finally meet yours. Wade, being the characteristic little fucker he is, pulls a delighted, shit-stirring grin as he glances between the two of you as if watching a tennis match.

Logan gasps as he finishes taking a drink. “Not much to look at,” he says, wiping the back of his mouth.

The words twist like a fist in your gut. For a moment, you’re rendered too stunned to respond, like he’d tossed a flash-bang toward you. His casual cruelty digs deeper than you care to admit— but you’ve had far too much therapy, too much psychological training, to know he’s deflecting.

But you wouldn’t doubt for a second that there was a more beautiful version of you somewhere.

“What, you comparin’ me to someone?” You ask. You can tell you’ve struck a nerve by the way he goes for another sip. “That it?”

He grimaces.

“Do I make you feel sick? Am I making you feel sick?”

He stares at you hard, but silently. He takes a long swig of the rubbing alcohol and you cringe as his throat bobs. His silence and feigned indifference light a fire of indignation.

“You know, you’re not the only person who’s suffered. Who’s lost people.”

He laughs like what you’re saying is funny. “Yeah, right, bub, you have got no idea what loss is.”

“Oh, you are such a fucking cunt,” you spit, slamming your hands on the table as you rise to your feet. “You know what, Wade? You’re right. I can’t do this. So fuck you and fuck his timeline and fuck every timeline that had anything to do with it! I’m done.”

A wave of uncontrolled psionic energy born from your anger blasts from you upon your final words, slamming them back into their seats and sending the cutlery, nearby debris and weapons flying. The neighbouring windows smash, shattering explosively and sprinkling outside of the diner.

The simmering stops, replaced by a stifling emptiness.

“I wasn’t finished with that!” Wade cries, crouching down to scoop up what remains of the gelatinous spam.

You pause for a moment, glance at your hands, and then grab your jacket in an aggressive fit.

Wade whines your name, halfway through gagging down a forkful of cold spam off of the floor (one of which resonates with a particularly distinct crunch, but you don’t stay to find out whether or not he just truly ate glass), and he doesn’t attempt to get up and follow you as you storm off.

You take a heaving breath of hot desert air when you leave the diner. The sandy breeze tousles your hair, and with the prickly energy of an incoming nervous breakdown, your legs kick and you’re running.

“Stryker got you, too?” Logan asks, eyebrows flicking up.

You don’t look him in the eye when you nod. You cross your arms and slouch a little, caging your heart in. Stryker — the ex-militant with a fetish for experimenting on mutants — had held you captive for several years. He’d brainwashed you into using your empathetic abilities for nefarious purposes, like seducing other mutants, and sometimes important political and militant figures.

“You like me?” He questions, quieter this time.

“No… no, not like you,” you reply. “I don’t have the fancy bones. I heal fast, but I wouldn’t survive that kinda procedure.”

“Ah.”

“I don’t remember everything. Just bits and pieces. Feelings, mostly. Nightmares,” you explain. He nods understandingly. “I’m always on edge.”

“You always seem so calm,” he observes. “Nothing seems to phase you.”

“I have to be. It took a lot of pain and damage to get this level-headed,” you respond quickly. “If I don’t manage my emotions, all the emotions that I receive, touch— it all comes out. Explosively. It has to come out somehow. I could hurt people.”

“Funny. School therapist ‘n’ you’ve got the most issues,” he teases light-heartedly.

“You got no idea, lumberjack.”

You hated killing.

You’re on your knees, arms and hands and chest soaked crimson, sobbing. They’d come out of nowhere, the raiders, and they were hungry for something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. All you know is that you felt their need, their desperation, their willingness to do anything to get it.

The flash of harrowing horror someone feels before they die isn’t a unique experience. It simply varies in strength — sometimes it’s a feather-like touch that careens over you, a shuddering realisation that they’re taking their last breath, and sometimes it’s like a crack of lightning. Bloodied hands gripping your biceps with fear in a final attempt to survive. They’d rather cling to you than die alone.

You hate killing. Especially this up close.

You don’t cry for them. You don’t even cry for yourself. It’s a small emotional space where they cry vicariously through you.

You were black-out when it happened, you tell yourself, and suddenly regress to the student you used to be, sobbing on your knees in front of Charles as he tries to teach you serenity and control after an outburst had caused you to kill a nest of birds. He’d done it for Magneto, he said— so he could certainly do it for you.

You should have meditated more.

The sound of a car gurgles somewhere behind you, but you haven’t the energy to look or use your powers to seek out who’s approaching and what their intent is. You’re exhausted enough that whatever they wish to do with you — turn you to processed dog kibble, send you back into the jaws of Cassandra’s lair, kill you — whatever. Just let it happen.

A slamming car door and then the crunching of boots on gravel.

“You’re easy to track.” A pause. “You look pathetic. You done throwing your tantrum?”

Logan. Of course, it’s him.

“Leave me alone, prick.”

“As much as I’d like to, you and the Mouth still have to hold up your end of the bargain,” he quips, folding his arms across his broad chest. “Now get up.”

You glare up at him and his arms unfurl as he notices your tear-streaked face. His expression drops, softens, before it quickly ticks back up into an incredulous, irritated look.

“Are you crying?” He asks with a scoff. He pauses before dragging his hand down his face and rubbing his scruffy jaw. “Jesus Christ. Get up. Get in the car.”

“I ain’t fuckin’ around, Logan. Piss. Off.”

He mumbles a string of incoherent curses and turns on his heel. You think, for a moment and a breath of relief, that he’s truly going to give up on you and leave. He could finish this without you. It’s easier this way.

Instead, a thick bicep wraps around your middle and you’re flung over his shoulder with a yelp.

“Quit your squirmin’.”

“Then put me down!” You yell, thrashing in his grasp. He promptly ignores you, unphased by the jabs you strike at his back. You quickly unsheath the small knife from your jacket sleeve, winding up your arm before you drive it into the muscly pocket by his kidneys.

“Ow! Cheap shot, you little fucker!”

Wade sighs and clutches his hands in front of his chest romantically. “Oh, the newlyweds.”

Logan dumps you into the front seat of the car carelessly, grumbling something as he slams the door shut and applies the child locks. Petty motherfucker.

You rub the sore spot on your tailbone where you landed on a seat buckle funny. You want to bite your tongue but you’re flared up.

“We should switch places. I’m a better driver than you are.”

Logan doesn’t bother looking at you as he starts up the ignition. “Just shut up.”

“You can go on ahead and smoke a cat turd in hell, then.”

“So fuckin’ immature. Grow up.”

“Mom and Dad can you please stop fighting!” Deadpool cries out from the backseats.

You just roll your eyes, resigning into your chair and folding your arms.

At some point along the ride, Wade falls asleep, snoring soundly to himself. You’re silent in the front, drumming a beat on your knees, awkwardly thinking of something to say. You have the impulsive need to fill the silence, even if you were trapped in a crappy car with a man who had made it vehemently clear that he irrevocably hated you.

“So, if they can fix your world, what’s the first thing you’ll do?”

Logan rips his eyes towards you. “What did you say?”

“I said when you get back, what’s the first thing—”

“No, no, no— before that.”

You hesitate, wondering if you’d landed yourself in a trap based on the sharpness of his tone and the way that anger crackles off of him like static lightning.

“If… they can fix your world?”

He slams his foot on the brake and you just about catch yourself before your nose goes flying into the dashboard. Wade is thrust out of the front window, smashing through and promptly falling unconscious underneath a tree, neck broken at an awkward angle.

Your eyes widen.

“What do you mean: if?”

“That’s what Wade said—”

“I don’t give a fuck who said what. He promised me he would fix things—”

“Well, I didn’t promise you shit!”

He laughs, low and devoid of humour. “You don’t have a clue if they can fix things, do you?”

Well, no. You’ve been operating on a hunch the entire time and had half come to accept that you might be stuck in the TVA void forever. Who knows how much time has passed elsewhere?

Regardless of the fact you truly had nothing to do with whatever came out of Wade’s mouth, you weren’t about to let Mr. Worst Wolverine shit all over him and his plan to save his friends.

“Is it really that far-fetched? We made an educated wish!”

Something dark flashes across his face. You can feel hate pulsing off of him in dizzying waves, doubling with each passing moment.

“You made… an educated fucking wish?”

“What’s your problem with me, huh? Got a stick up your ass?” You reach for the car door handle, but he snaps up your wrist, holding it high. “You better let go of me right now, old man—”

“Or what, huh? Gonna run away again?” He threatens.

“You geriatric, alcoholic motherfucker. I’ve done nothin’ but try and be civil with you and you treat me like I’m the one who ruined your life! I don’t know what version of me you knew but you need to stop actin’ like I ain’t worthy of being here because of what you did!”

“Listen, I’ll tell you what my problem is with you—” he leans closer, eyes roving over you with a disgusted look on his face. “I mean, you are a ridiculous, emotional, immature crybaby. I have never met a sadder, more attention-seeking, foul-mouthed little bitch in my entire life and that says a lot because I’ve been alive for more than two hundred fuckin’ years.”

“And I’ll tell you, that bald chick was right about one thing: you will never amount to anything. You’ll never save the world. You couldn’t even save a relationship with me. I’d say you should’ve died alone but it’s one of God’s best jokes that in this universe you didn’t seem to fuckin’ die, except that ones on the rest of all of us!”

He breathes heavily when his rant finishes. You’re taken aback, jaw slack, eyes warm with the onset of tears born from shock.

“What, you got nothin’ to say, empath?”

You suck in a deep breath, blinking slowly as you flick the emotional switch off in your head.

“I’m going to hurt you now.”

He snorts. “Oh, are you?”

In a swift manoeuvre, you raise your slap him around the face. You knew better than to punch a metal skull, but you still wanted him to sting. His eyes slit, nostrils flaring in challenge.

“That all you got?”

“Not even close,” you snap back, knuckles whitening from the way you curl your fingers into your palm. “You want to play this game, Logan? Fine— but I’m not gonna sit here and keep on provin’ myself to you. I’ve had enough of your Christ-born-again superiority complex. Did you forget that you’re the worst Wolverine?”

“Oh, yeah? Well, at least I’m honest about who I am. Look at you— you’re a fuckin’ joke, pretending to be some hero in a suit made for a dead team,” he barks back, voice rising with each word. “I don’t need your bullshit “wishes”— you should know, I’ve buried people for less.”

“Yeah, because you’re so perfect, ain’t that right?” You yell, voice cracking from the power of your anger. “The almighty Wolverine— the unkillable bastard who can’t seem to hold onto anythin’ good in his life! You’ve had centuries to get your shit together, and look at you—” You look him up and down with disgust. “—still just a bitter, lonely, broken man, takin’ it out on everyone else and a goddamn bottle.”

His eyes narrow, muscles in his jaw twitching as he appears to fight and keep his temper in check, but there’s an obvious crack forming, the dam of his unbridled rage near overflowing.

“You think you know me, huh?” He murmurs, voice a deadly whisper, the calm before the storm. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about what I’ve been through. You’re nothing but a lost woman playing make-believe and hiding in the shadow of a fuckin’ merc. You’re pathetic.”

Something inside of you breaks. “I’m pathetic? Look at yourself! You’re so goddamn desperate to feel anythin’ that you’ll lash out at everyone around you for some semblance of warmth. There’s a fine line between hate and love, after all! You think you’re so strong because you can heal, because you’ve lived forever? Yeah, right— you’re the weakest, most cowardly man I’ve met in a loong time.”

The blades between his knuckles shoot out with a shink! For a moment, you think that he’s going to attack you. Hell— you even hope that he will, just to diminish some of the unbearable, stifling tension. Instead, the blades retract with a deep breath, and he grabs you forcefully by the collar of your suit, yanking you so close that you can feel the heat of his breath on your face.

His voice is low and rough, each word dripping with venom. “Go on, keep psychoanalysing me. You wanna talk about cowardice? How about leaving people who need you, just because it’s easier to run? Better yet, how about the fact that you abandoned the X-men to hide away in the mountains, huh?”

Your eyes widen with recognition.

“Yeah… Wade’s got a big mouth. Told me everythin’. You’re no hero. Hell, you’re just a selfish, reckless hillbilly who failed at pretending to be human.”

Your heart palpitates in your chest, each word coiling and slicing like blades in your intestines, but you refuse to let him see how much it hurts. Instead, your lips curl into a cold, bitter smile, one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“And you’re just a sad, angry old man who can’t handle the fact that he’s lost everythin’. Go ahead: keep pushing people away! Keep hidin’ behind that anger o’ yours! It’s got you this far, ain’t it?! I’ve treated kids with trauma worth double yours and they were nothin’ but kind and selfless. I won’t let you project your failures onto me. I’m done with this.”

“Yeah, why don’t you walk away!”

The argument reaches a fever pitch, tension sizzling in the air between you. You’re so close, glaring at each other with so much anger, so much resonating heat, that it feels like something’s going to break. And then, suddenly, it does.

Before either of you can think, you close the gap between you, lips crashing against his. It’s not gentle, it’s not soft— the kiss is rough, violent, a clash of lips and fury. His grip on your collar tightens, and for a moment, you’re both frozen, caught in the shock of what’s happening.

But then something more fiery in nature than anger ignites, and he kisses you back just as fiercely, and maybe a little more desperate— like he’s trying to pour out all of his pain and resentment, into this one moment. Your tongues slide against each other and his teeth catch against yours as he groans into your mouth. Your hands thread through his hair, yanking him closer as if trying to hold onto something real and tangible in the chaos of the kiss, reeling from the sudden spinning in your head. It’s angry, raw, filled with all the things you’re not capable of verbalising: grief, love, yearning, reconciliation.

The result of a painful reunion.

The world falls away and all that’s left is the taste of him, the feel of his lips against yours, rough and demanding. You hate him right now— hate him so much that you can’t help but want him. The sheer intensity of it all overwhelms you and makes your fingers shake against the nape of his neck, but you can’t pull away— not now, not when you’ve tasted the wine. You’re too far gone, caught up in the storm of his intoxication, fantasising about ripping that yellow and blue suit off of him and riding him until there’s nothing left for him to regenerate.

And then, just as suddenly as it started, the bubble of the moment bursts with the sound of slow clapping coming from outside the car. You jerk back from Logan, breath coming in ragged gasps. Logan is equally as stunned, still tight-gripping your collar as if he doesn’t know what else to do with his hands.

You both see Wade sitting up, hands together, eyes wide as saucers as he takes in the scene.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Did I just wake up in a telenovela?” His voice is laced with amusement. “I mean, I know you two clearly had some unresolved sexual tension— but this? Oh, this is gold. Please don’t stop on my account, just let me get the camcorder first!”

You’re too stun-locked to respond, lips parting and closing as your brain scrambles to formulate a response as you’re still reeling from what just happened. Logan (for once) seems equally as lost for words, his typical scowl replaced with a look of confusion.

“Shut up, Mouth,” Logan barks, but there’s no real heat behind it. There can’t be, really, not when you’ve both been caught red-handed. He releases your collar at once.

Wade, however, is having none of it. “Oh, no, no, no! You don’t just get to brush this off like it’s nothing! That was a full-on makeout session! I only interrupted because I thought you were about to rip each other’s clothes off.” He sighs wistfully and crosses his legs. “Here I was thinking that you two hated each other— but I guess all that anger was just foreplay, huh?”

Your face burns with a mixture of shame and something else you’re not quite ready to admit. “Wade— cut it out.”

He grins, not deterred in the least. “Oh, but I’m loving this. All that pent-up aggression finally coming to fruition. It’s beautiful, truly.”

Logan shoots him a look that could melt iron, but Wade just simply shrugs, unfazed. “Hey, I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking. Everyone being me.”

“Wade,” you warn through gritted teeth.

“Well, unless you want me to watch (which I am not opposed to, by the way) maybe next time the two of you should get a room,” he tilts his head. “Or, you know, a couples therapist.”

He then turns to address Logan directly.

“And I must’ve missed the AO3 tags because I did not peg you for the enemies-to-lovers type, Mister. Who knew all it took was a bit of hate-kissing to get the sparks flying? Don’t look so ashamed! I’m just jealous I didn’t get to you first.”

He stumbles towards the car and collapses into the back seat. “Next time you wanna bump uglies, just ask for some privacy! You can save me the broken neck!” He gets himself comfortable, man-spreading and laying his hands on both of your shoulders as you stare dead-forwards, unable to look at each other.

“Gosh, you’re both so tense.” He begins massaging. “Look— props to you both for not letting all that angst go to waste. This is a safe space, and there’s no shame in a little hormone-induced—”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Logan interrupts, revving the car back to life and shoving his prodding hands away. “Just be quiet back there.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll keep the commentary to myself. But just so you know— got that bad boy playing on repeat, right here.” He says, tapping the side of his head.

You bury your face in your hands. This was going to be a long car ride.

As the car starts moving again, you muster the bravery to risk a glance at Logan. His expression is hard to read but his energy thrums with uncertainty. The boiling hatred seems to have dialled down to a gentle simmer, mostly redirected towards himself rather than you. There’s something else— something that wasn’t there before. You rip your eyes away quickly, mind racing.

For somebody so in tune with emotions and the literal ability to manipulate them if you so desired, you were horrendous at navigating your own. You don’t know what this kiss meant, or if it even meant anything at all.

If there’s anyone you didn’t expect to come across in the void, it’s X-23— Laura. She’s taller, now, with hair down her back, but she’s still got that stern, mean look on her face that intimidated you the first time you met her.

The weak front door squeaks when you open it a crack. A girl, maybe in her small teen years, blinks up at you.

“Can I help you?” You ask, wiping your flour-dusty hands down on the front of your cooking apron.

“Are you—” she says your name.

You attempt to swing the door shut, but she jams it with her boot. You flick your eyes up, glance around for any signs of threats, and then lower your gaze to her. You wrap your cardigan around your mid-section.

“I don’t go by that name anymore. Who the Hell are you, kid, and what do you want?”

“I’m here about Logan,” she says, matter-of-factly.

Logan. A name followed by your own, both of which you hadn’t heard in years.

“He’s not here, kid. He died years ago.”

“I know,” she answers, unwavering. “I was there when it happened. Your name was the last thing he said.”

You’d let her in for a glass of sugary sweet tea that day, but once stories were exchanged you told her not to come back. She respected your wishes— she said she simply wanted to put a name to the face, to get closure, but you’d felt her desperation. Perhaps she was seeking out respite, or family, but you were in no position to be sharing your space with someone who could put another target on your back.

After introductions were made with the others who had been ripped from their timelines (Elektra, Blade and oh my god a Gambit variant with muscles so huge he could pop your head between his biceps) you excused yourself to sit outside. The buzzing emotional energy made your collar feel a little tight around the neck, your head a little fuzzy with noise, so you decided to reignite the small campfire a few yards away from the safe-house and rest there, instead.

You hadn’t realised you were being followed.

“It’s not safe here.”

“It’s not safe anywhere, Logan.”

He looks defeated, raising and clasping his hands behind his head.

“I gotta leave, baby.”

“If you leave, I ain’t lettin’ you back,” you whisper. “You don’t heal the same anymore, Logan, and you promised me—”

“I know what I promised,” he rebuts, but not angrily. You can already see on his face that he’s made his choice. He’s not coming to you to discuss it. “But I owe it to him. To Charles. He gave me everything.”

“So then what did I give you?” You ask. “Not a home, not my love, not everything?” You slam the tea towel down and turn away from him as the tears form. He’s quiet, perhaps processing everything, but you’re too impatient.

“If you’re just gon’ get up and leave, do it now. I won’t beg you to stay, Jimmy.”

“I love you.”

You don’t say it back.

You wake up with a start, damp clinging to your forehead. You immediately sense another presence and glance over to see Logan watching you with a steady gaze. His expression is soft and almost reverent at first, but his facade hardens with a quick tick of his jaw.

“You talk in your sleep.” The bottle in his hand sloshes as he takes a drink. “Nightmare?”

You sigh frustratedly when you realise it’s him. Of course, it’s him — his energy reeks of whiskey and self-loathing. You prop yourself on your elbows, massaging the sore spots on your temples where sleep fog forms.

“I can’t even get some rest without you botherin’ me? You’re leakin’ self-hatred everywhere.”

“Quit hogging the fire then.”

“Fuck you,” you murmur, but it’s without bite.

A moment passes before he fills the silence again. “What are you even doing out here, alone? Trying to get yourself killed? Pretty stupid.”

“Do you know how hard it is to sleep when nobody shuts up?”

His brows knit. “They’re all dead asleep.”

His hand runs up and down your back.

“Can’t settle?” He asks after you sigh.

“No.” You turn so you’re lying on your back, shoulder touching his, staring up at the ceiling. “Everyone is feeling so loud. It’s like a frequency I can’t turn off.”

He hums. “They’re grieving, I s’pose.”

“Even you and you always said you hated the guy.” You shuffle to lie on your side, facing him. You place a hand on his bare chest. “I can feel it, you know.”

“I didn’t hate Scott. Just found him… obnoxiously irritating.”

“Tough guy.” You giggle and stroke his cheek. “You’re turnin’ soft, old man.”

He pulls you flush against him and presses a kiss to your hairline. You lay in verbal silence for a while, soaking up his presence (god, you were so in love), but you’re interrupted when he abruptly sits up and grabs the white vest he discarded somewhere near the bed.

You lean on your elbows. “Where you goin’?”

“Let’s go for a ride.”

“What?”

“You can’t sleep here. Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

“But Charles said—”

“Screw Charles. You comin’ or what?”

He hadn’t told you he loved you yet, but at that moment you felt it.

And so you do, clinging to his mid-section on his motorcycle, head stuffed into the helmet he affectionately forces you to wear. It’s a warm night in New York, soupy with heat, but the further you get away from the compound with him by your side the more you feel you can breathe.

“’Course, you don’t understand.”

You reach for the small pouch on your hip and retrieve a cigarette. You light it between your lips, taking a seat a few paces away from him, hands still shaking a little with the aftershocks of the night terror.

“Since when did you start smoking?”

You perk a brow. “I’ve always smoked.”

He seems to realise something and simply shakes his head before returning to the vice in his fist.

“Right.”

You stare at him for a long, passing moment, before pulling out your lighter again and offering it towards him. He perks a brow.

“I know you got a cigar in there somewhere,” you say. He pauses, sighs, and then retrieves a thick cigar from one of the pouches on his suit. You lean closer, flick the lighter, and cup your hand to protect it from the breeze, shamelessly glancing at the dancing glow that bathes his face amid the firelight. You feel the urge to kiss him again, and when his eyes flick up to yours, you think for the briefest second that he wants to kiss you, too.

Swallowing, you collapse your lighter and clear your throat. You sit quietly, smoking and drinking in a silence only negated by the distant sound of chittering bugs around you. Once you’re finished with your cigarette, you toss the butt into the fire.

“We’re infiltrating tomorrow morning.”

He laughs dryly. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

Your lips tighten into a thin line. “We won’t make it without you.”

“Sure you will. I’m not him, you know,” Wolverine grumbles, slugging another shot of alcohol.

You scrutinise him from across the log. You wonder if he feels as pathetic as he looks.

“No— you got that right,” you answer. You pry the liquor from his hands but the grip he releases from the neck of the bottle must have been a mercy on his part because you knew he was extraordinarily stronger than you. “He was much braver than you.”

His eyes flicker from the flames to you as you take a long swig.

“Although probably just as stupid.”

A pause. Crackling and popping firewood fills the silence.

“But, he was a hero. And so are you.”

A beat before he spits a dry laugh, “what gave you that idea?”

You give him a once over and offer a half-smile. “That suit, for starters.”

He looks down at himself like he’d forgotten he was wearing it and wipes away a stray speck of blood from the bright material that you’re sure you might be responsible for.

“What, you like it?” He grunts.

You can’t help but smile. “Yellow suits you.”

“This is all I had left to remember you— them by,” he says, tone turning more sombre as he reminisces.

You decide it’s not the time to make another jab, so, instead, you play back and forth with the bottle for a while until the alcohol stops stinging your throat.

Something small shatters inside of you when you watch him muster the strength to look into your eyes, and his look a little glassy.

“Did you love him?”

Woof, that needed a healthy drink of courage to answer. When you hold his gaze, there’s a hollowness to his expression— an unasked question. Was there truly a version of him worth loving?

“Yeah.” You wipe the back of your hand across your mouth to cover the crack in your voice. “Yeah, I did.”

He’d insisted he hadn’t wanted you around yet he’d kissed you and now followed you to where you’d been sleeping. That had to count for something, so you extend your arm and gesture the bottle towards him— an olive branch in the form of shitty Jack Daniels. Your fingers touch when he accepts it and the brief glimmer of eye contact you share sends shivery energy zipping between you.

“I loved him,” you repeat, as if convincing yourself. A repeated balm to soothe the pain of letting him leave.

“He’s an idiot for leaving you.”

You bite back a sob-laugh, imagination caught somewhere between wondering who you’d rather beat up more: him, or yourself.

“Maybe I’m an idiot for not followin’ him.” You sniff deeply to push back the incoming sob-induced mess. “Not that he woulda let me.”

He hums resignedly.

Clearing your throat, you tuck your hands between your thighs. Swiftly moving on. “What was I— she like?”

He takes a long drink and sighs thickly when he comes up for air. He looks down at his hands when he talks as if choosing his words thoughtfully and carefully.

“Strong, smart. Stubborn. Far too fuckin’ stubborn.”

You force a smile over the flinch of pain in your chest. “Guess we got that in common.”

You reach up and twist the dog tag around your neck, feeling for the ring you’d slipped around the chain. You were never married legally but were in all the ways that mattered. Your heart aches for the brief moment of domesticity you shared with him. You expect him to be finished, but he once laughs, a smile cracking on his face.

“She loved kids— had a soft spot for the weird ones.” He squints and rubs at the flesh between his knuckles where the blades typically protrude. “Put me in my place. Stood up for what was right.”

His words strike a chord in your heart, playing the familiar tune of yearning and guilt and grief. A swelling sensation rises from your stomach and you’re not sure if you’re going to scream, cry or throw up.

“Were you—?”

“In love with her? What, like you can’t tell?” He interrupts, face hardening. Another drink. “It doesn’t matter. We argued one night and I refused to follow her back to the school, ‘bout the same time the humans went mutant hunting.”

Logan takes a moment to catch himself.

“When I came back, shit-faced from the bar, I realised I’d gotten my version of you murdered, along with the rest of them. Laid up like a fucking log pile. That’s what loving me got you.”

The gruesome imagery sours the liquor in your stomach. You push the nausea down with a hard swallow.

“I’m sorry.”

“Wh—” He jolts back, face pinched. “I got you killed, and you’re fuckin’ sorry?”

“There’s a world where you didn’t make that choice. You know, I’m not proud of who I am, either,” you answer, softly. “After you left and I lost you… I got bitter, stopped pulling my punches.”

“You never liked hurting people.”

“I didn’t.” You take a deep breath, willing away the warmth that pools behind your eyes. You quickly regain composure with a short cough. “Whatever woman you’re comparing me to, I stopped being her a long time ago. Like you told me— I’m no hero.”

He grunts, looking like he regrets saying that now. Checkmate. You’re not what either of you expected or yearned for in one another, but maybe you’re exactly what you both need.

“You know, your accents thicker.”

He says it as if to draw a line of separation, but you take it as an invitation. Your head swims from the alcohol, and against what probably is your better judgement, you inch closer to him until your knees bump against each other.

“That’s what I get for hidin’ in the mountains. Got adopted by a scary old lady and her church friends. I reckon she rubbed off on me. You’d like her, I think,” you tell him fondly. There’s something wistful about it, imagining a life with him. You grieve a life you never had but somehow, in his company, the melancholy loosens its grip.

“Maybe we got lucky,” you add flatly.

He lifts the bottle with a dry laugh. “You have a very funny idea of what lucky means, bub.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be so sure. Y’see, they didn’t get lucky. They died, ‘n’ we lost each other,” you explain, glancing up at the stars as if either version of you would ever be in heaven, as if it was as loving enough as a mother’s womb to stretch wide enough to allow space for mutants.

God probably hated you just as much as they did down here.

You lower your head onto his shoulder. “But, we’re still here. Maybe there was always space in my universe for you.”

“You’re drunk,” he observes flatly, but he doesn’t move.

“A little.” You get more comfortable against his tense bicep and close your eyes. “Humour me, why don’t you?”

He sighs, but it’s gentle. “Just for a while.”

“Good, because you’re not very good at keeping your feelings quiet. I know you like this.”

“Keep that to yourself.”

You sigh, eyes remaining closed. “We ain’t gonna talk about it, are we?” You ask, in reference to the kiss.

“Nope.”

A high-pitched whine resonates in your ears, vision blurring as if lying underneath a rippling river current. Paradox has just explained the stakes to you — to stop Cassandra, somebody would have to lay down on the wire and make the sacrifice play. This wasn’t a matter of regeneration anymore— it was being ripped apart from the seams, atomised.

It just so happens that your cat, Kevin, has been loving his little journey around the TVA. Cheater.

“You won’t survive it,” is what you say in response to Logan offering himself up for the job. What you really meant was: I don’t think I can survive losing you again.

“I know,” Logan answers. His eyes drip to where you palm at the slow-healing wound on your side, courtesy of the Lady Deadpool variant. You’re winded, running on fumes, and know you’re in no position to start throwing yourself out there as a suicide volunteer. You’d never make the journey, let alone succeed in your venture.

“That’s why it’s gotta be me,” Deadpool interrupts, peeling the mask from his face to address you both. “Neither of you asked for any of this. You were right. I lied. I lied right to both of your faces — just to get you to help me, and you did.”

“You didn’t lie,” Logan replies, throwing you a glance. “You made an educated wish.”

He reaches into his pocket and slaps the bloodied Polaroid of Deadpool’s friends against Wade’s chest. The gesture is a final, silent acknowledgement of why any of you are here in the first place, and everything that’s led to this moment.

“I got nothin’ back in my world,” he explains, the sharp arrow of his words striking a sting straight through your heart. “Let me do this. For you.”

You could see that this meant more to him, that he would only deem himself worthy and die a peaceful death if he could do it knowing he saved at least one variant of you. This is more than just a mission. This is his only chance to redeem himself, and you know you’re in no position to start trying to convince him that you’d have him either way. Fuck redemption.

You’re parallel from one another, standing just outside of touching distance. It was a cruel existence— reaching out and never quite being able to hold on. It’s inevitable, the pull you feel. You’re dictated by his gravity but cursed by the narrative.

Your chest rises and falls with shallow, laboured breaths as you attempt to process what’s happening, what he’s asking you to let him do. The pain in your side ebbs only from the comparative pain of watching another version of the man you love sacrifice himself for you.

His voice is a quiet whisper. “Give me this.”

But I love you. The words are there, hiding behind your clenched teeth, gnawing at the bars like a feral animal caged in the reminder that this isn’t — shouldn’t be — the man that you love.

Something shifts and as you’re running on the delirium of your battery running low, healing resources drained, you decide that you don’t actually care to make the distinction any more.

You’re in no condition to fight; you barely had the energy to argue with him, let alone stop him. But you can’t just let him go.

One wobbly step forward. You poke his chest, mustering whatever energy remains to express your feelings in the only true way you know how. “I…” you stammer, but you suddenly can’t find the words.

His hand reaches up and he splays yours flat against his chest. Faintly, buried deep behind the armoured layer of his suit, you feel the distinct thunk, thunk of his heart. He exhales deeply when your empathetic energy transmission reaches the other side. Your eyes connect, and even through the sharp whites of his mask, you can feel the psionic pulse resonating between you two— strong enough that the wound on your side begins to sew itself together.

“I know,” he whispers.

And you believe that he does.

He nods shortly, releases your hand, and turns on his heel. You collapse against the control centre, eyes needling through the camera footage, desperate to watch the final moments and know that his sacrifice was worth it.

It’s about the same time that Deadpool yanks his mask back on and barrels down the hallway after him.

“Wade!”

You glance back at the party as you creep towards the apartment door to leave. Your consciousness has only recently slipped back into place, having hovered somewhere above your body for the entire time you witnessed your friends atomically ripped apart, only for them to return mere moments later.

You think it might’ve been witnessing Wolverine sweaty and shirtless that was finally the last straw for you. You’re not sure you’ve recovered since.

You thought you were being sneaky about your departure, but a flat hand reaches from out of view, splays and then holds the door closed.

“You sure I can’t convince you to stay?” Logan asks, voice slow and tentative.

“I ain’t runnin’ this time, I promise,” you answer. He rests his arm on the beam above him, making him appear even taller and maybe even more imposing. Your pulse quickens as you look up at him, trying to find the right words, ones that you hope won’t give you away. You nearly squeak. “I um— just—”

He arches a brow, a hint of a micro-smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. He shifts, getting closer by just a fraction. “Yeah?”

Trying to keep your distance is proving to be immensely hard when he’s gotten himself this deliciously close. His energy tastes of confidence, a stark contrast to the self-loathing only a mere few days prior. It’s magnetic. If you make eye contact now, you’re not sure you’ll be able to control yourself.

The atmosphere crackles with tension, like the static energy right before lightning strikes. His gaze is intense when you look at him, and with the way his eyes glance purposefully down at your parted lips—

Jesus. Pull yourself together.

You gently pull away from him and feel the spell of the moment dissolve. “I just… need time.”

Recognition flashes on his face, as well as a tick of disappointment, but he seems to understand.

A beat, then he taps the door before stepping aside. “Alright. Don’t be a stranger.”

Wade bursts around the corner, arms wide and voice booming. Vanessa hangs off of his arm, white teeth gleaming with mischievous joy.

“Whoa, hey there, lovebirds! What’s going on here— a secret rendezvous? Looking for somewhere to sneak off? Should I cue the romantic music or just give you two some privacy?”

You jump in surprise at his sudden entrance, flinching away from Logan as if you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t. Logan’s expression shifts from whatever tender moment was brewing, spell broken, to a mix of exasperation and resignation, jaw tightening.

“Wade,” he grumbles, voice sharp, but you can acknowledge there’s a level of begrudging affection beneath the steely surface. “Timing, as usual, is impeccable.”

“Um, actually, I was just leavin’,” you answer, tugging on your bag.

“WHAT!” Wade exclaims, face dropping. “We haven’t even gotten to our favourite part yet!”

You tick a brow. “Our favourite part?”

“The cocaine part,” he says, matter-of-factually.

“Wade, that was one time,” you pinch the bridge of your nose. “I’m sorry. Thank you for inviting me. I just can’t miss my flight.”

Dogpool jumps at your ankles, whimpering and chewing on the hem of your jeans. You give her a gentle scratch on her head, deftly avoiding the lick of her impressive tongue. Wade scoops her up, holding her against his shoulder and kissing her affectionately on her wet nose.

“You, ah, need a ride?” Logan offers.

Your heart stutters at his chivalrous attempt. “Oh, um. That’s okay— I called a cab. So.”

That was a lie. You hadn’t— not yet. You just weren’t sure if you were going to make the right decisions if you were alone in his company for an hour. Probably wouldn’t make it to the airport without fighting or crying or making stupid choices.

He rubs his jaw. “Right.”

“I’ll… see you around?”

“I better!” Wade yells, using two fingers to gesture that he’s keeping his eye on you as Vanessa yanks him around the corner gleefully.

A magnetic tether — or red string, whatever you want to call it — seems to strain when you walk away from Logan. You feel the pull in your chest, a fluttering of electricity, but you swallow the urges and ignore the way they scratch like glass on the way down.

You call an Uber, squeezing your bag tightly for a source of comfort as you crowd yourself into the back seat. You spare one last glance at the apartment and think for a brief moment you see a silhouette of someone watching you from the balcony, but they slip away into the light before you can discern it.

You know, though. Of course, you know.

You expected relief when you arrived home, but, instead, the aching, gnawing black hole in your chest seems to grow exponentially. You go through the motions— feed your cat, tend to the garden, eat the food with no appetite, go to Church.

The fixture of Jesus pinned to the cross gives you pause for the first time. You wonder if he was a mutant.

You weren’t sure how much of this “time” thing you were going to need to heal or make a decision on where you and Logan stood after everything, but only after your second night, sleepless and alone, do you start to doubt that this will be an easy process. You communicate like you know what you’re doing, but you haven’t stopped shaking since he kissed you, like a newborn foal traversing ice.

You want to do things right. You’re not trying to replace any missing pieces or live up to any expectations he might have of you. The girl he knew seemed to be a softer, sweeter (less traumatised) version of you, and you worry that you’d be constantly comparing him to a ghost of himself.

The rain lulls you as it patters on the window by your bed, but sleep doesn’t take you.

You hear thunder, you think, and wonder if the chickens are frightened in their coops. However, the distant grumble continues to grow, reverberating through the floorboards of your rickety cabin. As it creeps closer you discern that it’s not a brewing storm— but the growling engine of a motorcycle.

Awash with a deep sense of knowing, you throw yourself out of bed and knot a silk robe around your middle. The sound of the engine dissipates, replaced only by the hammering rain and the rushing pulse in your ears when you tear your door open.

You see him— all leather jacket slick with rainwater and tight jeans, brows pinched against the onslaught of the weather as he dismounts his bike.

Logan.

When your eyes meet, there’s a palpable shift in the air, and the storm, angry as a howling spirit, mirrors the turbulent emotions within you. You don’t speak, you don’t think, you just act.

Barefoot, dressed in your slip of a robe, you race down the short path and meet him halfway.

“Logan? Logan?” You call out. “What are you doin’ here?!”

“Had to see you,” he calls out between strides, voice nonchalant as if what he’s said was obvious.

You’re closing the distance. “That’s a day’s ride, and the weather—”

Instead of letting you finish, he grasps your face, kissing you suddenly and with a reverence so sincere that your knees feel gelatinous and weak. His thumbs brush away the raindrops— tears? —that drip over your crystallised lashes. His touch is both grounding and electrifying; the warmth of him pressed against you is a stark contrast to the chilling downpour.

Your fingers curl against the front of his jacket, clinging with equal fervour as if it’s the only thing keeping you anchored from floating someplace else. The strength of his body crowds over you, arm sliding down to capture you by your waist as you lean into him, syrupy-decadent and entirely reliant on him to keep you upright.

The kiss deepens, his tongue sliding over yours tasting both bittersweet and intoxicating in equal measures, like cigar smoke and peppermint gum. There’s a distinct sharpness of liqour and you wonder if he had a shot (or bottle) of courage before coming here. You breathe deeply against his skin, smelling rainwater, musk and gunpowder; your senses are completely overwhelmed by him and you’re not sure that anything could pull you away.

The red string knots.

When you both eventually take pause, gasping for air as the rain continues to pelt, his eyes lock with yours. He radiates relief, desire, and a raw vulnerability that makes your heart ache.

“You’re freezin’,” he murmurs, peppering kisses against your lips, your cold nose, and pulling one of your hands to his face to peck along your palm. You feel dizzy in his embrace, drunk on his lips.

“You should come inside,” you whisper, “before the neighbours start askin’ questions.”

He quietly nods, kissing your fingers before following you inside and ducking away from the rain.

Once inside, he shakes the rain from his hair with a flick, eyes immediately roaming around the innards of your respectable (tiny) house, the size of him immediately proportionally shrinking the interior. He absorbs your surroundings, chivalrously pretending like he can’t see every curve of you in that wet material.

You lead him towards the heath, lighting a small fire to help dry you both off. You leave, pottering around to gather some towels for your hair, and arrive back to see he’s peeled off the top layer of his clothes, leaving him half-exposed, his back an impressive marvel of rippling muscle. He glances at you over his shoulder.

You’re lost for words, but can’t just stand there ogling him. “Um, I don’t think I have any spare clothes that’ll… fit…”

When he turns to face you, his rain-slick torso shines in the firelight, skin glistening on the taught muscles of his biceps as he accepts a towel from you. Your words lag, entirely distracted by the realisation of one thing when you glance down at his v-line and dark, coiling hair that creeps down into his jeans: you’re absolutely going to have sex with this man.

You might’ve decided that when you watched the way his jeans clung to him when he dismounted his motorcycle, but that’s beside the point.

“That’s alright,” he answers, towel slung over his shoulder, eyes roving shamelessly over the damp, silky robe that clings to your silhouette effortlessly. “Don’t need ‘em.”

Your mouth dries when he steps closer to you, head angled, lips centimetres apart.

“Logan…” you breathe, tone edging toward a warning.

He presses against you, tilting you back. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop. I’ll get back on that bike and I’ll leave.”

You creep further away, trying to catch your breath. “I—”

The words don’t manifest, simply because you don’t have it in you to lie— to deny yourself of this.

He cages you in against the wall, shrinking you underneath his frame, eyes narrowed and dark as they search for yours through lowered lashes. “Tell me you don’t feel somethin’, and I’ll walk away. You won’t see me again.”

His bare-chested proximity was overwhelming you. You’re acutely aware of every inch of his skin that touches yours, pebbled nipples hard against his warm flesh, stubbled jaw nuzzling against your neck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. You feel like a teenager again, anxious and hormonal, a ball of puppy fat and unrequited crushes. The space between your thighs positively aches with heat, throbbing like a second heartbeat.

“I can’t… I can’t tell you that I feel something.”

He leans back, lips quirked with a flash of disappointment.

You blink up at him. “Let me show you instead.”

He ticks an eyebrow.

You use your empathetic influence to decrease his heartbeat, relaxing him down to the bone. He sighs, nosing against your shoulder, arms flexing as he holds himself up against you.

“Just with a little influence…” you stroke your way up from the slow pulse in his neck to his jaw, capturing him swiftly. You use your mutation to increase his heart rate this time, hiking it up to an excitable level. His cheeks begin to flush, pupils dilated, lips parted with the anticipation of your kiss. His eyes darken with something intrinsically primal and hungry.

“Does it excite you?” You ask, innocently.

He shakes his head all dog-like as if to regain control, canine showing as his lips curl into a wolfish grin.

“You’re not the only one with… tricks. I can do that, too— in other ways,” he says, tone low and suggestive. He lifts a hand, tracing a knuckle over your exposed collarbone, shifting the soft material of your robe just an inch. Your breath hitches.

“You know I can hear your heartbeat, right?”

You blush. You hadn’t known that.

You challenge his eye contact, feigning self-control and authority. The stare-down has your pulse spiking, arousal ricocheting down your spine and sitting low and syrupy in your belly.

“Your heart’s beating pretty fast, too.”

Oh, Hell. He’s got you melted like butter in a pan.

You rest your head against the wall, breath quickening. “If we do this, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”

“Good,” he growls. “I don’t like to stop.”

The teasing back-and-forth game of teetering towards nearly touching finally gets the better of you. You’re weak, as malleable as soft dough, so you invite him against your mouth with a sigh-wine and a tug on the nape of his neck.

He positively devours you, a hand palming at your breast as you kiss desperately and feverishly. The shoulder of your robe slips and you’re half-exposed, the slip barely holding itself together by the loose knot on your waist. He pulls you impossibly closer, the skin of his chest flush against yours as he reaches and digs fingers into the globe of your ass, hips twitching together.

You fumble between your bodies, yanking on his belt buckle and zipper impatiently. He pulls backwards, a wet string of spit snapping between your lips as you separate, helping you with steadier fingers to remove his jeans. With equal passion, he swiftly tugs on the waist-tie of your robe and discards it somewhere on the floor.

When you’re both bare, nude silhouettes sharp and soft in the firelight, he stumbles you over to the plush rug in the centre of the room. He nods to the couch.

“Legs up.”

You obey without hesitation, taking your seat and spreading decadently for him. He kneels below you of you, hips between your ankles, and gazes at you like a hungry, stalking animal. You feel impossibly sexy and dangerous.

He peppers kisses along the bone of your ankle first, foot hiked up onto his shoulder, only breaking eye contact to flutter his eyes closed. He moves along the inner length of your leg, pausing keenly against the sensitive parts— the thin stretch behind your knee, the soft plush of your thigh. He lowers himself, scruff tickling between your legs, and then licks a molten stroke between your folds, parting you with his tongue and burying his face deeper.

You clench around his skull, mindfulness of your heightened mutant abilities long forgotten. You can’t crush metal between your thighs. Or can you?

He groans into you, varying suckling and kissing you on your clit with long strokes on the blade of his tongue to your hole, lapping up the nectar of your arousal, fingers digging bruisingly into your hips. The sting of his grip and the relentless lave of his tongue entice moans from you, fingers raking into his hair for some semblance of reality grounding in your pleasure-lapsed consciousness.

Jesus. With as filthy as his mouth was, you should’ve known he would be this good at eating pussy.

You come quick, orgasm pulsing on his lips. The burn of overstimulation seizes your muscles, writhing against his onslaught, but he shoves your hips down.

“Not done with you yet,” he murmurs possessively, leaning back to wipe his chin. “On all fours.”

You bite your lower lip, suppressing the humiliation of the intimacy (vulgarity) of it. You turn, belly still clenching with the aftershocks, arching with the anticipation, whining moments later when his mouth reconnects with you. His hands palm at your ass, spreading you wider, tongue slipping dangerously close to the tight ring of muscle.

He slides a finger knuckle-deep, miming fucking you in a rhythmic pulse. His other hand massages you, thumb sliding down until you jerk sensitively against his nudging intrusion.

You feel impossibly full and tingly, clenching around the burn of his thumb and the velvet of his finger, second orgasm surging and bubbling over with your face pressed against the couch cushion, lips agape. You’re slick, drip-dropping onto his cupping palm, every nerve in your body burning raw as his wrist works you through the pulses.

You turn over, relishing in the sight of his scruff glistening with the aftermath of your orgasm, his eyes dark with lust— a hellish man, seraphic on his knees for you. Your insides clench at the sight as he quite literally shatters and redefines what worship means to you.

“Tired already?” He hums, massaging your hips.

You perk a challenging brow. “That was just the warm-up, old man.”

“Alright,” he seethes, sucking on his lower lip as he lifts himself up to your level. “Show me what you got then, baby.”

When you kiss, his mouth slides against yours, drenched with the taste of yourself. His cock steels against your belly when you pull him close, tip pearl-smooth with precum when you reach down and grasp him with a hollowed fist. The feel of him, heavy and warm in your grip, fans to life the flames of your briefly quenched arousal, and you hungrily pull him down onto the couch beside you.

Moisture pools on your tongue as you rub him. You spit on your hand before stroking him from the base to tip, lathering him silky with your drool. You tuck your hair behind your ears, narrowing your cheeks as you slide your mouth up and down his length, fisting the inches that remain.

“Christ.” He twitches in your mouth as you gently massage the warm weight of his sac, lewd sounds emanating from where your lips and tongue meet him. “Just like that. Good fuckin’ girl,” he snarls, gripping your hair in a fist at the crown of your head. Your engine purrs with his encouragement, revving with newfound enthusiasm.

You always gave as good as you got, after all, and you’re certainly not one to back away from a challenge.

His head lolls onto the back of the couch, thighs tense beneath you, cock hot and hard on your tongue. He growls when he comes, pulsing strongly in your mouth as you lap up the produce of his orgasm, salty and molten down your throat.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“Put those regenerative powers to good use, why don’t you?” You ask, working him through the over-sensitivity with your wrist. His eyes don’t once leave yours, even as they glaze over and flinch from the pleasure burn. There’s a sharp look of challenging determination on his face— a grit of his teeth, the furrow in his brow. He remains hard in your hands and you perk an impressed brow. Not bad for an old man.

There’s a sweet moment of vulnerability when you crawl over him, a brief sobering in the cloud of lust, a clarity of two not-quite strangers and their shared grief and yearning.

You’re not sure where this moment will take you, but the love of somebody scraping together the shards of a shattered heart for a brief time, even as it cuts their hands, holds you with a semblance of human connection so sincere that you’ll carry it with you for a lifetime.

His thighs spread to accommodate you. You hold your fingers against the thick chords in his neck for support as you fumble between your bodies, slotting him against the catch in your cunt before lowering yourself entirely.

You hiss against the intrusion and he steadies you with a hand on your hip.

“Easy. Don’t hurt yourself.”

You laugh-moan, laying your palms against the coils of hair on his sweat-shimmering chest.

“I can take it.”

The fire, intended to help dry you off, creates a heated environment that beads sweat on his temple. The only brain cells that remain coherent bounce around on lust in your skull — so you lean forward, lick the salty droplet clean, and sigh-whine as you begin rocking against him.

You fall into sync quickly, a desperate rhythm of desperate bodies. The delicious ache of him inside you is a masochistic thrill, similar to the irresistible press on a day-old bruise. The squelching shlick between your bodies is an animalistic reminder of your flesh and blood as you chase the pleasure, bouncing with vigour.

“Christ— I can feel you…” his jaw clenches with resolve, fingers digging into the meat of your ass. “…dripping all over me. You wanted this bad, huh?”

“Wanted to ride you in that fuckin’ Honda,” you straighten your posture, leaning away from him to hold your breasts, panting words between bated breaths. “Thought it might shut you up.”

His hand snaps up and grabs you roughly by the chin. “Mm… mouthy, aren’t ya?”

You grin. “You got no idea, lumberjack.”

He pulls your face against him, meeting your mouth halfway in a sloppier, fever-driven kiss that shoots arousal to your core like a shot of his favourite whiskey. Something feral stirs within you: a primal, cellular-deep need to connect with him further. Your empathetic power roils off of you like steam on a hot spring, surging into and merging with him until there’s nothing but one feeling, a black hole of unquenchable desire.

You suddenly feel as though you are him: navel-deep, a throbbing muscle with an aching desire to dive further into the serpent-clutch of your cunt, gliding through tingly, honey-silk velvet, blades hanging onto a tether of self-control as they threaten to slide out of your knuckles in ecstasy.

Well. This was certainly new. Add “voodoo sex doll” to your list of mutations.

You gasp, ripping away from the kiss, your powers recoiling back into you at whip-lash speed, dizzying in its ferocity. His eyes meet yours with darkened curiosity.

“Did you—”

“I felt that,” he grunts, tongue darting out to roll over his lips. “It always like that for you? Feelin’ so fuckin’ full?”

You half-laugh blissfully. “Only the good times.”

“I’ll show you a good time, alright.”

He isn’t gentle when he manhandles you, forcing you into an arch as he repositions and aligns himself behind your thighs, one foot planted firmly on the floor, the other bent to accommodate the new angle. He reinserts himself inside of you with ease, hands palming your hips and ass.

You feel him nudging cervix-deep and you reach out, clawing at the couch to hold your jerking body steady against the relentless slap of his hips. There’s no need to tell him faster or harder when you feel the metal plate of his adamantium hips pressing against your ass, pounding and vulgar with the sound of sweat-damp skin-on-skin.

It’s involuntary, the way you pant and cry out, intoxicated by the relentless drag and pull of his cock. He says something to you but you either don’t hear him or have enough conscious space in your sex-drunk fog to process words and respond. He slides a hand down your spine and pulls on your hair until you’re upright, breath hot when it fans against your neck.

“Where’s that mouth gone?”

You lick the drool from your lip, throwing him a glance over your shoulder. “Fuck you.”

The half-lidded up-and-down look he gives you as satisfaction grows slowly on his lips turns your bones to jelly. “There she is,” he growls back, offering a sharp slap of encouragement on your ass as he drops you back onto your front. You involuntarily grip around him, puffy clit throbbing with the almost-but-not-quite-there anticipatory build. “You gonna come for me? Yeah? I can fuckin’ feel it.”

You slide a hand underneath yourself, reaching for the swollen nub with two fingers. You’re overwhelmed with kinetic energy akin to a fizzy champagne bottle— two more shakes until you’re ready to pop.

You hear a Snikt! behind you, accompanied by a throat-caught groan, and then the distinct ripping shred of blades impaling your couch. You finally come, hard, when you feel him throbbing inside of you, followed by the decadent syrupy flood of his orgasm filling you up. He ruts into you one, two three more final times, milking himself dry, before collapsing over your body in a sweaty heap, sparing you the weight of his metal bones with a forearm propped next to you.

Shared fluids drip to the couch when he eventually pulls out of you, blades retreating into his clenched fists. The fluffy innards of the chair spill out beside you, and, while you were in no financial position to afford another, the sight entices a humoured smile from you.

“Sorry,” he says with a wince, helping you sit up when your unreliable legs shake beneath you.

“That’s alright. It’ll make for an interestin’ story,” you retort, fanning yourself with a hand. You both let out a shared laugh, mostly from the relieved delirium of it all. After a beat, you lean into him, massaging a hand across his belly. “So. We really doin’ this?”

His face softens. “If you’ll have me.”

You cup his face and kiss his cheek. “I’d take any version of you I could get.”

divider credits: @/vysleix and @/cafekitsune tag list: @bearwithegg, @uhlunaro, @sseleniaa, @jxssimae, @autumnsymphony

[envy-of-the-apple]

Rewound Infinitely

Gojo Satoru x Reader

Part one: Infinite Rewind

Synopsis: A decade later, Gojo has finally caught up with you. Weddings take a lot of planning.

Word Count: 8.6k

(Warnings: flashbacks to gore, not healthy trauma coping, thats all tho! pretty wholesome compared to last time)

Some things about him had changed within a decade, while others stayed the same. 

Even taller than you last saw him. His hair has been styled, no longer ivory chaos. You can't see a single blemish or mark despite the decade of fighting curses. He's as flawless as the first day you met him. No glasses; the entirety of his blue keeps you still.

You've seen this Satoru before: Suguru's memories, with glassy eyes, ruffled ivory hair, and an empty expression. Seeing such beauty yourself when you're standing right in front of him, it's breathtaking. 

Even the lights of Tokyo couldn't compare to him. 

You say nothing. You can't. Your mouth is dry and pointless. You're not even sure where to even begin. In front of a God, your insecurities pile up all over again. Is he disappointed by you? How could you explain everything that you put him through? Your mouth opens, you think you're about to speak: an apology, a plea, anything-

"—You're late!" 

His hands reach up to squish your cheeks together. It was so unexpected, you squeak. 

And Gojo Satoru is pouting. 

It's a wave. The ocean of anxiety, guilt, and fear crashes into the shore. You feel nothing but indignant rage at the brat who clearly hadn't matured one damn bit. 

"I'm not late!" You hiss back. "If anything, you're the one who's late. I was—"

You're cut off by his laugh, light and happy. 

He isn't offended by your outburst; he's overjoyed about it. His cheeks are dabbed with pink, and his lips are so wide that he's showing his teeth. Your anger wanes when he pulls you into his chest, arms circling around you. You can smell his cologne when he buries his face into your hair. 

"There you are. Finally." He melts into you like butter. "I missed you, Greeny." 

His voice is soft, quiet, and sincere. You can't do anything but hug him back, allowing him to sink.

"I missed you, too." You whisper.

He hums. Apart from the wind, it's quiet. He's clinging onto you as though he's afraid once he lets go, you'll disappear forever. His behavior is justified. You were constantly meddling with his life before whisking away. Just this once, you allow him to keep you within his reach, letting the cat catch the canary. 

"This is sweet 'n all. But we're actually getting late." He mutters. "Also, we gotta do something about your clothes." 

"Hm?" 

One moment, you're atop the Tokyo Skybridge; the next, you're standing in an upscale boutique. 

Satoru skips away from you. Meanwhile, you're frozen, brain scrambling to catch up with what happened. Teleport. He can teleport now.

"Mr. Gojo, sir." A voice calls. An older woman smiles at him. 

He gives her a casual wave before gesturing over to you. "Mind giving this one a dress? It's a black-tie event. We don't have a budget." 

The woman turns to you with a smile. "Of course, sir." 

What?

Dazed, you pliantly follow the woman into the back of the boutique. Her hold on you is gentle as she ushers you through the hall with one hand on either side of your shoulders. When you look back, Satoru is waving with a wide grin. The door shuts behind you. 

"Do you have any preferences?" 

You turn back to the woman. She's still smiling. You can't tell if it's genuine or customer service. Perhaps both. 

Did Satoru not like what you're wearing? When you look down, it makes sense. Your time on the tower wasn't kind to your hair, not to mention your clothes. This morning, you'd just thrown on the first thing you saw. 

This morning. That felt like centuries ago. 

She's still waiting. You give a trepid smile. 

"Anything," you say, "anything as long as it's cheap. I'm not exactly swimming in cash." 

She gives a confused look. "Oh, but Mr. Gojo is paying, isn't he?" 

Was he? You had no idea what was happening, much less what he had just said. She returns to her usual smile. 

"If you have nothing in mind, let's see here..." 

Some time later, your usual clothing was removed and replaced by something satin and long. It was a pretty dress that fell right to your feet. A set of women also flitted in and worked on your hair and face, putting everything back in your face so that you looked more human and less cryptid. 

"What do you think?" She asks, looking at you through that mirror. 

Pretty, you looked pretty. But when you looked closer, no amount of make-up could remove that look in your eyes. 

When you step back out, Satoru is waiting with a tapping foot. 

"Finally!" He exclaims, standing up. He doesn't acknowledge the dress, probably because he's seen himself in better. "Thanks, Hana. Okay, let's go." 

"Go?" You prod. "Go where? You—you still haven't told me what you're even doing—" 

It's no use. He grabs your hand, instantly warping you away from the boutique. 

You're outside. There's people everywhere. In the distance, you can see a crystal glass dome. The sun was still in the sky, which was strange because you remembered watching a sunset not too long ago, unless you weren't in Japan anymore. To prove it to yourself, you check your phone location. Yakima, Washington. What the fuck.

Was this some type of torture, him flitting you from continent to continent, all in a ploy to punish you for something? You give him a pleading look. 

"Just tell me what's going on—" 

"Nuh-uh." He grins. "It's a surprise! Besides, you'll figure it out soon enough. Now, I gotta' go. Stay here, be good, and find the panda!" 

And then he's gone.

You always knew he was insane, but this is ridiculous, even for him. To leave you in the middle of nowhere, that asshole.  

There is no one you recognize in the crowd, but they are all walking towards the dome, so you meekly follow. What did he say? Find the panda? It had to be a metaphor of some kind, or perhaps there was a panda statue you needed to wait under. 

And then you see a panda on two legs walking and talking with a group of teenagers.

Seriously, what else did you expect? 

Feeling like you've just aged five years, you approach the group. Including the animal, there's five. They all look like 14-16 years old. You feel like you're in high school all over again when they glance over at you. The girl looks particularly unimpressed. 

"Hi." You look at the panda. Maybe it's a really good costume because no one else looks shocked. "Satoru said I should find you...?" 

One of them seems to get the code. The one with black hair and puppy eyes perks up. 

"Ah! Are you 'Greeny'?" Did he tell everyone about that nickname? Didn't you tell him it was supposed to be a secret? Though, it doesn't really matter anymore. 

"It's not my actual name." You say before introducing yourself. 

He gives a nod. "Okkutso Yuta." He bows. What a polite kid. "This is my friend, Inumaki Toge." 

The kid with half his face under his scarf gives a wave. You smile. 

"Just Maki." The girl steps in before she gives you a once-over. "I like your dress." 

"Oh, thank you!" You say happily, "I love yours as well!" 

She looks away, but you have a feeling she has a hard time taking compliments. 

"I'm Panda." The panda fucking says, and no, it isn't a costume, but you're too tired to ask at this point. "Nice to finally meet you." 

When the final kid says nothing, Panda reaches over and wraps a furry hand around his shoulder. 

"And this is Fushiguro Megumi! He's shy." Panda says cheerily. The boy flusters under his weight. 

"Get off." Fushiguro gripes. 

"Don't mind him." Maki rolls her eyes. "He's just throwing a tantrum because his sister couldn't make it, and he's gonna have to socialize with people instead of hiding behind her." 

Fushiguro glares, but he doesn't respond to that. He just gives you a nod, and you decide these are good kids. At the very least, they're all way better than that brat Satoru. 

"So, why are we waiting out here?" You ask, peering around. 

"The doors haven't opened, yet," Okkutso kindly relays, "we're just waiting out here until everything is set up." 

"If they're taking this long, then they should at least ask for help." Maki crosses her arms. "We've been waiting out here for at least thirty minutes." 

"At least there's food." Panda tries to assuage. 

"Salmon," says Inumaki. 

"They're serving salmon out here?" You give him an incredulous look and he waves his arms around. 

"Bonito flakes." Inumaki says. Okkutso tries to come to his rescue. 

"Inumaki can't speak anything but food items because of his curse-" Maki quickly yanks him down by his collar frantically. Fushiguro is whispering something in his ear. You watch them go back and forth before it clicks. 

"Does it have something to do with his technique?" You ask, curiously. 

They stop squabbling. 

"Oh, our bad. Sorry 'bout that." Panda gives a sheepish grin. "We didn't think you'd know about jujutsu sorcery 'cause...well. Your cursed energy is really low." 

"Super low." Maki agrees. 

"Salmon." 

"Even lower than Maki's." That earns Panda a punch from her. 

"Thank you," you dryly say, before you turn back to the building. 

"What's going on in that place anyway?" 

They all give you an odd look before they look at each other. Did you say something wrong?

"Did Gojo-sensei not tell you anything?" Okkotsu asks. 

You allow yourself to leak some bitterness. "Satoru just dropped me on the sidewalk before teleporting away. He never tells me anything.

"That sounds like him." Panda nods. 

"Idiot," Maki says.

"Such an idiot," Fushiguro says, and now you feel bad for Satoru.

"Our sensei's getting married today." Okkutso supplies. He points at the dome. 

You don't get why you didn't realize it sooner. You knew these kids, at least Okkutso, Maki, Panda, and Inumaki. They all showed up on the very last day Geto Suguru died. Okkutso, in particular, had fought and defeated Suguru. 

These were Gojo Satoru's students. 

You think back to the last time you saw Satoru. He didn't look like a groom, but he's an eccentric guy. You wondered what kind of person would put up with him for the rest of their lives. You pitied them. 

"Oh." You frown. "His wedding? I—I would have at least brought a gift." 

"I don't think he'd mind," Panda said, "besides, you didn't even know!" 

You still felt a bit guilty. 

"We didn't bring anything either," Fushiguro states, and it helps just a tiny bit. 

"When the ceremony begins, you can sit with us," Okkutso tells you, "we're supposed to keep an eye on you, anyway." 

"You're not talking to a dog." Maki grunts. 

"Oh no I—I didn't mean to be offensive!" Okkutso backtracks. "It's just—well, Gojo-sensei's been talking about you for a while, and we want to make sure everything goes smoothly and we were all really excited to meet you so—" 

He keeps rambling like that until Inumaki pats his shoulder. You laugh, amused. 

"I wasn't offended or anything." You tell him before his words sink in. "Wait, Satoru talks about me?" 

"All the time." Maki responds, an edge to her voice. "'Greeny this', 'Greeny that'." 

"We usually tune him out when he gets like that," Panda says, "honestly, we didn't even think you were real until just now." 

"I always thought 'Greeny' was an inside joke Gojo-sensei and Haibara-sensei had," Okkotsu admits. 

Something warm bubbles in your stomach. 

"So," Fushiguro speaks, "how do you know Gojo, anyway?" 

You didn't know the story Gojo told them so you simply keep it vague. 

"I knew him as a kid." 

It's Panda who gets the most excited about this. 

"Really? What was he like as a teenager?" 

"A brat." You instantly respond, and then you think a little more. "But I don't think that ever changed." 

They ask you a couple more questions about Gojo's high school days. You oblige, thinking this as payback for how Satoru dropped you here without saying anything. You don't know how long you spend out there, airing out Gojo's younger days while his students get increasingly giggly. 

Okkotsu is the one who notices the crowd is moving. 

"I think they opened the doors." He smiles. "Let's go, everyone." 

You follow behind Maki, admiring the architecture. It's a grand building. Sparkling crystal glass lets the sunlight bleed in. The decoration was something else entirely. Small white flowers adorn the chandelier, and they cascade down the edges. Ice sculptures of angels greeted the guests. Live music was already playing. Satoru knows how to plan a wedding. 

Maki finds you all seats. You sit next to her. Fushiguro follows you. Okkutso, Inumaki, and Panda take the seats behind you. While you wait for the guests to settle down, you pass your time, waiting for the students to bicker with one another. From your assumption, it looked as though Maki, Panda, and occasionally Inumaki butted heads with each other. Okkutso often served as the timid referee, trying to get everyone to calm down, which almost always made things worse. Fushiguro just elected to ignore everything. 

"Are they always like this?" You lean over to whisper to him. Fushiguro gives a tired nod. 

"Every. Single. Day." He's saying this from experience, but at least you get a show. 

Everyone settles down eventually. The kids grow quiet when the music starts to swell. The indoor lights dim. It's starting. 

You've never been to a wedding this grand before. There was a live orchestra. Women and men were dressed in baby blue, gently strumming away their cellos, violins, and violas. 

It's how you miss Satoru's entrance. He's already standing on the altar by the time you look back. He's changed into something more formal. The suit and green tie fit him. A perfectly put-together beauty. As though he can sense your stare, he catches your eye and winks. 

But why was he already up there? Shouldn't he be—

"Sensei's coming!" Okkotsu whisper-yells. Inumaki hushes him.

Everyone turns to face the door. You do, too. 

Your heart stops when you see him. 

It's all there. Black hair, but it's longer this time around. Of course it is, he's had years to grow it out. He's tall, he must've grown since highschool. 

You don't think you're breathing when you watch him walk down the aisle. The music is low, barely loud enough to hide the click of his heels. He takes his rightful place beside Satoru, his best man. Satoru gives him a nudge, and Suguru shakes his head fondly. 

Everyone turns to see Shoko's entrance. You should too, but you keep staring at him. How much he's changed since high school. How much he's changed since he waltzed onstage wearing a priest's outfit, filled with nothing but empty hatred for those he viewed as weak. 

But he's not wearing that twisted monk costume. His eyes aren't dull and dead and bitter. There's no sickly faux smile on his lips.

Today, Suguru looks like the happiest man on Earth. 

His eyes are wide and eager and sparkling purple beauties. He's 27, but he looks younger. The lines of exhaustion and heartbreak aren't so prominent. And you—and you—

You just sit there, watching as Shoko walks up to the altar, watching as they stand as bride and groom. His daughters, adorned in pretty blue dresses, stand right behind him, smiling so hard you're sure it hurts. The priest speaks. They say their vows. You can't hear a single word. It's like you're behind a glass wall, and you can see him, but you can't feel him. 

 When they kiss, everything comes back. The crowd celebrates. Satoru ruffles Himeno's hair. Nanako smiles wider. Behind you, Inumaki and Panda sniffles. Okkotsu hands them a tissue. 

"It’s pretty." Maki comments. Fushiguro gives a hum of agreement. 

ⴵ

Satoru finds you and the kids when you're waiting for the reception to start. 

He appears behind you with a cheery, "And how are my lovely students holding up?" You almost spill your drink in shock.

"Sensei!" Okkotsu chirps. "Where's Geto-sensei and Ieiri-sensei?" 

"Shoko's around; Suguru's taking a break," Gojo answers with a grin. "If you don't mind me, I'll be stealing this one for a sec." 

He doesn't wait for an answer, steering you away by your shoulders. You look behind you. Panda waves. Fushiguro just looks even more upset. You wave back at them regardless. 

"I can't believe you put your students out on babysitting duty." You tell him. "And what's with this wedding? There's no alcohol anywhere." To make your point, you take another sip of your apple juice. 

"We have kids here. Kinda' have to make it alcohol-free," Satoru says. 

"The bartender could ID them." You suggest. 

"You think teens who fight curses daily wouldn't figure out how to get around that?" He grins. You frown at his frustratingly good response. 

“What’d you think of them?”

“Hm?”

“The kids.” He urges. “What’d you think?”

Your brows scrunch. You have no idea what he means by that. Eventually, you take a breath.

“I like how...close they are.” You eventually say. “The bond they share. They care. I think each one of them will be good sorcerers.”

He’s silent, and you think you might have misunderstood his question.

“I learned that from you,” Satoru says, “keeping them together, making sure they can grow, get stronger, together. You were always so insistent on that, back then. I’m glad you were. It was one of the best things about you.”

You stare at him. Really stare. You’ve never heard him sound so genuine, so sincere before. You look into his crystal-blue eyes, wide and earnest. Part of you wants to take a picture, so you could keep it forever.

Eventually, Gojo successfully drags you to a less crowded area of the party. He looks around. 

"Hm, he should be around here somewhere...?" Satoru hums to himself. 

"Who?" You ask. That question answers itself. 

Haibara Yu is waiting a little ways ahead. By now, the sun was starting to set. His brown hair turned gold. Gojo eagerly hurries you forward as he calls out to him. You stumble, still lost at what you're seeing. 

"Guess who I brought?" Gojo sweetly sings, Yu-Haibara, he hasn't let you call him Yu yet-tilts his head.

He smiles, confused. "Oh? Hello!" He says cheerily. "Who's this?" He asks to Gojo. 

"Guess," Gojo says. 

Haibara stares at you, and you decide to give him a hint. 

"Brocolli head?" 

He gapes. It's almost the same reaction he had last time. Last time, when you had to convince him to kill you so you could go back in time to save Satoru.  

"No way." He gasps. "Greeny?"

 He doesn't remember. He wouldn't, why would he? Still, it's nice to see the innocence on his face, rather than the pain you saw last time. Right before he snapped your neck. 

You think he was crying the last time you two saw each other. 

In this timeline, Haibara is hugging you so tightly you think your head's about to explode. 

"It's really you?" Haibara says, but his bear hug muffles his words. "“—I—I can’t believe it? It’s actually you! I thought I’d never see you again even though Satoru said we'd see you again one day, and—and then suddenly you pop up outta’ nowhere—not that I’m complaining— but—”

"Haibara." You plead. "You're suffocating me." 

"Oh! Oh, I'm so sorry." He lets you go, and your lungs inflate again. "I—I'm just so happy! And—and you're a girl!" He says it like it's the most surprising thing about this whole revelation. Maybe it is. 

Satoru is always needy for attention and whines as always. 

"Wait, you two came up with a code word?" He complains. "That's not fair. We never did that." 

"I mean, it was Haibara's idea." You point out. "You should be smarter next time." 

That makes him frown even more. You laugh. 

"Yu." Haibara suddenly says. 

You turn to him. 

"My friends call me Yu." 

It's nice to know that no matter what timeline you're in, Yu will always remain stagnant. 

"Okay, lover boy," Gojo says with a not-so playful bite, "keep your eye on this one for me, okay? Gotta' go do more best man shit." 

Satoru's gone once again. You look at Yu. 

"He's been running around since I got here." You tell him. "Does that man ever rest?" 

"Nope." Haibara grins, before taking your arm. "Follow me; you should meet a couple of people." 

He leads you through the crowd. You spot the teens moping about out of the corner of your eye. Panda and Inumaki seem to be in a push-up competition. Maki is egging them on. You wisely decide not to disturb them.

Yu drops your hand to wave to someone. There's no need for any kind of introduction for these people. 

Riko and Misato Kuroi smile at you first. Miss Kuroi's aged beautifully since you last saw her. Wispy silver hair knitted seamlessly into brown strands. She never got that chance to grow gray hairs last time. You're staring so much it might be rude. 

"Yu?" Riko asks and you think you're about to break because they know each other. "Who's this?" 

"Uh, this-" Haibara chokes before looking at your awkwardly. Right, he doesn't know your actual name. 

Come to think of it, Satoru doesn't know either. He never bothered to ask too. Probably on purpose. Ass. 

You smile and politely introduce yourself. It takes everything within you not to scream and hug them both because in this timeline, they don't know you. They never did. 

But you can change that now. 

"Hello!" Riko beams. "I'm Kuroi Riko, but just Riko is fine! And this is my mom: Kuroi Misato." 

She says that so plainly, like that had always been her name, like Miss Kuroi had always been her mother. You wonder how long it took for those two realities to become her norm. Or maybe it hardly took time at all. 

"It's wonderful to meet you." Miss Kuroi states before she tilts her head. "May I ask how you know the couple?" 

Haibara jumps in for you. "Um—actually, this is Satoru's date!" He fumbles. 

You do a double-take. No, you technically weren't Satoru's date. But you technically entered the wedding with him. And he was the one who 'invited' you. Fuck, you were the brat's date. Damn it. 

"Ah." Nanami cuts in for the first time. "So, you're the one Gojo won't shut up about." 

His accusation sounds like Maki's, but less harsh. You wonder if he has a favorite student. 

Nanami looks the most different from his high school counterpart. A new haircut, less slouchy, more tall and refined. He blinks at you, slow and calculating. 

Sheepishly, you laugh. "Yeah...that's me....sorry." 

"Don't be rude, Kento." 

Ieiri arrives with a soft smile and painted features. She's changed out of her glowing gown, sticking to something small yet perfectly elegant: a short white dress that curls ever so slightly at the ends. Riko's the first to hug her, ecstatic. Ieiri hugs her back, too, because they've become friends in this timeline. The circles under her eyes are less prominent. Her smile looks more real. This isn't the timeline where she's had to bury her friend; it's the timeline she's allowed to marry him. 

"Congratulations," you say politely once everyone is done cooing over her. She smiles at you, the way a stranger would. 

Then, her head tilts. 

"Sorry," she hesitates, "do we know each other? You...feel familiar somehow." 

Ieiri was the first person you met when you activated your technique and returned to the past for the first time. She was the one who calmed you down, kept you grounded. In a way, you owed a lot to her. 

Looking at her, you can see why Suguru kept her cigarettes in his pocket. 

You shrug. "I must have one of those faces." 

The attention turns back to her, her beautiful dress, pure and white and beautiful. You feel Haibara stare at you. You shake your head at him. It wasn't the time. Maybe it never will be. 

"This really is a beautiful wedding," Mistato says when the conversation reaches a pleasant lull, "I can't imagine how much it cost." 

She shrugged. 

"Probably a fortune, but I let Satoru deal with the numbers." 

Misato looks confused, and Ieiri laughs. 

"He paid for everything." She gestures to the venue. "Suguru and I didn't have to fork over a single cent. It's the least he could do for being a pain in the ass for 12 years." 

Damn, you knew he was rich, but you didn't know he was rich rich. Maybe you should consider being nicer to him. If you ask politely, perhaps you could get him to pay off your car loans. 

"I'll get him to pay for my wedding too." Riko proudly says. 

"He'd probably do it, too." Ieiri nodded along. "He offered, just like that. The only thing he was hellbent on was the date." 

"The date?" You echo. Ieiri shrugs, messing with her laced sleeves. 

"Said it absolutely needed to be on December 24th. Something about spirituality. I never listened to that guy's rants." 

It comes to you immediately, but you're pushing it away. No way. Satoru wouldn't. There isn't a chance in Hell he would have convinced his friends to have the biggest day of their lives on the same day you were supposed to meet him. 

No, of course, he would do that. Ass. 

"So, how do you know Satoru?" Riko asks you. When she realized how rude it sounded, she backtracked. "I—I didn't mean anything by it! It's just...the guy only knows five people. When he spoke about bringing someone along, I thought he was joking." 

"Same here," Nanami says. Haibara stifles a laugh, and you realize all of Satoru's friends think he's a loser. 

Friends. Back then, he only had one of those. 

"Um." You toss Haibara look. He shrugs. "We met a few years ago! But we just recently reconnected." That's close enough to the truth. Good enough. 

You remember your blunder. You sympathetically look at Shoko. 

"I'm so sorry I wasn't able to bring a gift," you say, "I was blindsided. Satoru barely gave me enough time to get ready." 

You laugh, and you're hoping they laugh it off too. They don't, instead Shoko, Nanami, Riko, and Misato look at you. Then, they look at each other. 

Nanami speaks first. He clears his throat.

"Did Satoru....abduct you?" 

"What?" 

"That sounds like him." Misato sighs, more exasperated than anything else.

Riko nods along with her. "We tried to teach him. Where did we go wrong?" she laments. 

Haibara and Shoko laugh as you desperately try to defend your not-date date because he didn't actually kidnap you, but he did bring you here against your will and started dragging you along like some toy, but it's the context about that that matters. You wished they could've had a bit more faith in him. Poor Satoru. 

It ends eventually. Ieiri excuses herself. Riko and Misato go too. You stay with Yu and Nanami, watching as they get into increasingly petty arguments. It’s hilarious how quickly Yu is able to bring the usually staunch and serious Nanami down to his level.

Sometime later, you find yourself roaming the balcony. The party roars on indoors, laughing, talking, cheering. It was chilly outside, you should go back in within a few minutes. You just needed a break from the action.

The sun had already gone down, by then. You were somewhere out in the country. The buildings sparsely dotted the horizon. There were no artificial lights. It meant the stars could shine as brightly as they wanted to, with no one to stop them.

You hadn’t seen Satoru in a while. You had no idea where he’d run off to. It didn’t matter; you knew he’d eventually pop out of a box to harass you again.

But now that you had space for yourself, you needed to think.

You rest your hands over the rail, looking up at the stars. There were so many out tonight.

You fixed the future. You changed everything. Does that mean you still needed to tell Satoru about the past timeline?

You promised him answers the next time you two met. You promised him an explanation. He waited ten years for that. You pinch at the fabric of the dress.

This future that you carefully built, crafted with your own hands. It’s delicate, a glass castle.

It’s justice, but did that make it right?

“Want one?”

The voice makes you jump.

He stares at you, leaning against the rail. Purple eyes, mirroring the starry sky.

You knew these eyes, for a while, they used to be yours.

You stare at him. Then, you stare at the cigarette in his inviting fingers.

Your fingers twitch.

“No—no, I’m fine.” You smile. “Actually, I’m trying to quit.”

“Ah.” Suguru says, lighting it up before bringing it to his lips. “Shouldn’t tempt you, then. Pardon, what’s your name?”

You can hear your heartbeat. It’s loud, right in your ear. You wonder if he can hear it too. Are his curses around? Can they smell it? Your blood? Are they still as ravenous as the last time, eager to tear and fester and eat—

“It’s Greeny,” you say, “you can call me Greeny. ”

He hums in approval.

“Geto Suguru,” he says, “though I’m pretty sure you already know that.” You both share a huff of laughter.

“My fiancé quit a few years ago.” Suguru starts, mentioning the cherry-red cigarette. “Thought I’d follow in her footsteps, but here I am.” He shrugs before he winces.

“Wife, sorry.” He corrects. “I still can’t believe it.”

The monsters come out to play their song. You close your eyes, forgive Suguru, and you die once more.

You smile at his tone. He sounded like that 12 years ago, when he was still just a kid. Full of soft wonder.

“I’m guessing you’ve been planning this for a long time?” You ask.

He shrugs. “Shoko did most of the work. This is all thanks to her, really. Unfortunately, I was too busy managing the school.”

“I heard you were a principal?” You prod.

Suguru nods, “Our current one recently retired. I’m trying to follow in his footsteps.”

You think of Principal Yaga, the one with sunglasses and a stern expression. He looks a lot like Nanami in some areas. But he acts more like Suguru than anyone you ever knew.

And you knew Suguru; you knew him as well as yourself.

The screams start up again, and you forgive Suguru. 

“I can tell you’re already making him proud,” you say, “I met your students. They’re good kids.”

He smiles, soft, gentle. Those used to be your smiles.

“They are, aren’t they?” He repeats back, “some of them had a rough beginning, but it all worked out somehow.” He hums. “I’m glad.”

His daughters, the ones standing beside him as he kissed his wife, wide eyes and even wider grins. They didn’t have the darkness in their faces. The bitterness. Like they did in the last timeline.

You were glad, too.

This death is a lot more painful than the others. 

The curse that's holding you is more intelligent than its predecessors. It keeps you alive, tearing at your skin, feasting on your flesh. Blood is everywhere. You scream until it rips out your vocal cords. It's almost a mercy to just die. 

You forgive Suguru.

“It sounds like you’ve had personal experience with that sort of thing.” When he looks at you, you quickly say. “Your eyes. I—I can see it. I’ve always been good at that sort of thing.” You knew Suguru. His eyes matched yours.

He doesn’t look offended. Suguru takes a minute, reaching up to his black locks. He removes the elastic, pretty black hair falls down his shoulders He’s grown it out since high school. It reaches his waist.

He eases himself back onto the rail, looking up at the stars. You follow.

“Yeah, I do,” he’s saying, “I think I know what it’s like being them at that age. Alone, isolated, slipping down a rock. Drowning, but no one can see it.” Ingested. Exorcised. Ingested. Exorcised.

“When I was younger...it was really hard. Some days, I was so full of hate and anger. The pain was a lot. Sometimes, I had this despicable idea that it was someone else’s fault I was like this. Someone innocent.” He laughs, bitter.

“And, on those days, I would often feel something.”

You look at him. Suguru doesn’t stare back, eyes lost in the stars.

“Sometimes, it’d be a voice. Other times a small nudge on my shoulders, pushing me in the right direction. Once, it was a hug, keeping me from doing something that would’ve changed my life forever. And it would be just a bit more bearable, like I wasn’t so alone.”

You can feel your heart in your throat. Your fingers grip the railing.

“What did you think it was?” You expect hate, disgust. You want to give yourself a reason.

You forgive Suguru.

He takes a moment, coming back from heaven. His eyes find yours.

“I’m not sure.” He admits. “I’m not religious, but I always liked to think of it as—”

An angel. A hand of God. A higher power. It doesn’t matter what Suguru said, you knew what he meant.

A part of you always wondered why Suguru would return to Jujutsu society, when he wanted nothing more than to run from it. You expected him to retire. Instead, he took the reins of the beast, wrangling it down. Now, you get why.

“That’s why you’re a teacher now,” you say, “so you could be the same thing for your students.”

He nods, and you think of Maki. You think of Okkutso. You think of Panda. You think of Fushiguro. You think of Inumaki. Suguru must have been there for Maki, even when her own family wasn’t. Suguru must have helped Okkutso control his technique, being the only one who could. Suguru, must have made these kids better than they ever possibly could’ve been. Fighting for them instead of against them.

“Sorry.” He blinks. “I—I didn’t mean to get so sentimental. It’s been years since I thought about my own highschool years.” He laughs, voice full.

“You’re just...really nice to talk to.” He hums. “I don’t think I can explain it but it’s...familiar somehow.”

You look at him. He’s older, but in some ways, he hasn’t really changed. Even now, when you look at him, you see a reflection of yourself.

“I can see why he likes you.”

“Who?” You ask when he brings you back from your thoughts.

“The idiot.” But he says it so affectionately, so lovingly, you can’t help but smile. “I saw him dragging you around earlier. Sorry about that. I would’ve stepped in but...” He trails off, thinking.

“It’s been a while since I saw him like that.”

You hadn’t noticed anything about Satoru. He smiled just as brightly as he did in highschool. Now, you wonder if this was the first time in a while Suguru had seen that side of him: carefree, no longer The Strongest.

It hurts. It hurts so much. Blood seeps into the pavement. You can hear the curse laughing. It sounds like him.

You forgive Suguru. 

“Are you and him…” he trails off.

“No.” You laugh. “No, I’m his….childhood friend. We just haven’t seen each other in a while.”

“Oh?” He tilts his head. “How long has it been?”

You decide to be honest. “Ten or so years, give or take?”

He whistles.

“No wonder he’s bouncing around like a yipping puppy,” He says, and you can’t help but agree with the analogy.

“In any case.” He leans over the railing. His cigarette is down to its last embers. “I hope you stick around. A friend…I think he needs more of those more than anything.”

You stare at him. Those purple eyes. You can see what Shoko sees. You can see what Satoru saw all those timelines ago. They only ever saw the light, the gentleness, of Geto Suguru.

You are the only person in the world who knows him.

He’s killed people. He’s killed you. No matter how much logic or justification or pain was involved, the blood of the innocent is still sticky. It still drips across the pavement, scarring the sidewalk in red. It still hurts.

When Suguru would kill you, you’d force yourself to forgive him. You needed to die without regrets, because the pain of hatred builds up, you’ve seen it happen firsthand.

But now that you’re free, what Suguru did to you wasn't fair. Just because his innocence was taken away doesn’t give him the right to take the lives of others. It never gives anyone the right to murder. You keep telling yourself that this Suguru and that Suguru were different…but they weren’t. Not really. The look in their eyes matched perfectly.

He’d do it again, in the right conditions.

And yet.

You forgive Suguru.

You can’t judge him. If there is a God, maybe Suguru will have to pay for the crimes he committed all those timelines ago. You can’t save Suguru from that. But to you, the debt is paid.

Besides, you’re too tired to hate him. And you won’t allow yourself to fall into the same cycle he struggled to break free from.

You look into his eyes. Then, at his ring. You smile. 

And that's enough.

“I will,” you say, “I will.”

Then, as two parts of a whole, the two of you stare at the stars for a little while longer.

ⴵ

The reception was nice. A fancy dinner, you can’t remember the last time you ate something. The speeches were beautiful, especially Shoko’s. You swore you saw Nanami shed a tear, but you never said anything about it.

You saw a glimpse of white hair in the crowd before the first dance began. Stunning music. The couple must have practiced for months. Bride and Groom, husband and wife, held hands and looked at each other like they were the only ones in the room.

Megumi stood beside you, watching Ieiri and Geto sway to the music. As though the kid could sense him, Megumi’s serene face sours. You’re about to ask him what’s wrong when there’s a tap on your shoulder.

“Cute, huh?” Satoru starts, mentioning at the dance. “It didn’t look this put-together in the beginning. Shoko gave him a ton of bruises,” he says with a shit-eating grin.

You frown. “Shouldn’t you be doing something else than gossiping about your friends?”

“I am! I’m checking up on my son!” And then he turns to Fushiguru. “Megumi!”

“No.” Fushiguro instantly rebukes.

“Don’t mind him.” Satoru chides. “He’s going through an angst phase.” Fushiguro rolls his eyes, but he shifts just a tiny bit.

“Y’know, he was actually supposed to be the flower boy, but he refused. Such a shame, the pictures would’ve been something else.” Gojo sighed and now you’re convinced they aren’t father and son.

“That was never going to happen.” Fushiguro says, and as if he thinks you’re naive enough to believe Satoru, he glances at you. “Never.”

“Of course not.” You crack a smile.

You watch as Ieiri descends into a graceful spin, Geto taking the lead. When he tips her over, your eyes soften.

Gojo leans over; you can feel his breath in your ear.

“Next year.” He whispers. “For us, it’ll definetly be next year.”

You jerk away but he’s already skipping off, having the audacity to call out a cheerful ‘toodles’.

“What did he say?” Fushiguro questions.

That’s what you wanted to know, too, but you were so tired, and the night was so long, and you couldn’t bother to get out your Gojo translator and figure it out.

“The same stuff he always says. Nonsense.” You decide on. Fushiguro takes the answer.

“I don’t understand how he has all that energy.” You mutter, watching Satoru disappear through the crowd.

“I thought he’d get better with age, turns out I was wrong,” Fushiguro says.

“I wanted to ask,” you start, your eyes still on Ieiri and Geto, “how do you know Gojo? Aren’t you still in middle school?”

“Everyone knows Gojo. He’s pretty famous in the jujutsu world.” Fushiguro shrugs. “But personally...he’s my benefactor. Took me and my sister in when my parents left.”

You look at him. And you feel like an idiot.

He’s the spitting image of his father. Sharp cobalt eyes. Black hair. Fushiguro Toji is all over the young man.

Gojo Satoru, the one who killed the sorcerer killer, took care of his enemy’s children.

“What?” Fushiguro asks when you’re smiling

You shake your head. “No, no it’s nothing.”

Satoru told you that you’re the one who taught him about the importance of bonds. But you think he should take some of the credit too.

ⴵ

Eventually, everyone gets on the dancefloor.

It’s a mess. Absolute chaos. Panda and Inumaki are trying and failing to do the waltz. Maki and Okkuttso are lightly swaying to the music. They’ve managed to get Fushiguro up there too. Though, he doesn’t look extremely happy.

The adults are even worse. Apparently, the retired principal Yaga is a pretty good dancer. You think one of them found alcohol, because Haibara looks absolutely wasted. He’s swinging his arms around, almost hitting the other guests. Nanami is trying to get his attention, but the guy wants none of it. When Haibara catches your eye, he wildly waves in clear invitation.

You smile back, but you shake your head. You think he’s about to come up to you, but something else catches his eye, and he’s grinning at a very irrated-looking Iori.

You were sitting on a chair, just people-watching. It was a nice break from everything. To listen to the music, lightly tap your feet, play with the frill of your dress. You weren’t really in the mood to dance.

Besides, you weren’t technically invited here anyway. It’d be rude to just burst on the scene.

“There you are! Been looking all over for you!”

You don’t have to look over to see who it is. Satoru slumps down in a chair next to you.

“Greeny, you gotta’ do something about your cursed energy. It’s so weak. Like finding a needle in a haystack.”

“Thanks,” you say dryly.

“Always happy to help.” Satoru beams, and then he glances over at the floor.

“We’re dancing after this song, by the way.”

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s so cute you think you have a choice, Greeny.”

You frown. “There’s no point in calling me Greeny anymore. Unless you still don’t know my name.”

“I do, but it doesn’t matter,” Satoru says arrogantly. “You’ll always be my Greeny to me.”

You roll your eyes. Even now, he’s a brat. You thought all these years would mellow him down just a tiny bit.

“So,” you start, “are you done with your ‘best man shit’?”

“Yup.” He announces. “Now, I can sit back and enjoy the show.”

You smile, but you can still feel the butterflies in your stomach. He’s been running around so far and it’s given you time. Now, that he’s free, it means you two have to talk.

And you aren’t sure if you truly want to.

You flex your fingers.

“Um, how have you—”

“Stop.” Satoru interrupts. “Let’s not make this awful, Greeny.”

You nod immediately, relaxing. His voice gets softer, after that.

“I’m glad you chose that color,” he says, “I was sorta’ hoping you would.”

You look down at the dress. A deep green. You hadn’t even thought about the color, the boutique lady had basically thrown it at you.

The shade of Satoru’s green tie matches your dress. You can feel your smile again. Typical.

“I’m glad I did too,” you honestly say. And then, you continue to fiddle with your fingers. Ultimately, you decide to just bite the bullet.

“I thought you’d be mad.” You finally say, words jittery and unfocused. “Angry at me for...for what I did.”

He’s silent, and you feared that it was all true. The laughs and the jabs were all a facade.

"I don’t think I was ever mad." He responds, staring into the crowd. "Hurt, yeah. Then, it faded into something that stung everytime I thought about it, and then...something else. And now, I know it's a waste to get mad because you're finally here now. With me." 

His tone pitches upwards as he reaches over to painfully pinch your cheek. 

"'Sides, I know you can't escape me anymore, Greeny," Satoru cheerfully says, "Now, I know your face, your name, and with little effort, I could probably find your address, your social security-" 

"Okay! Okay!" You pull away, rubbing your cheek. Damn, he's scary. "Threat acknowledged." 

"Good!" He straightens himself back up, and you find yourself slumping again.

“I am sorry, though,” you say, “for leaving like that. I...I always wished I could do that a bit differently. You deserved better.”

“Don’t do that.” He shakes his head. “Don’t blame yourself for only doing what you could. It eats at you, Greeny. It really does.” He sighs, leaning forward in his chair.

“You deserved better too,” he says back, voice barely above the music, “I always had some regrets about those years. I thought I could’ve done more to help you, back then.”

There it was again: selfishness, the urge to do good to others while retaining that greed. You supposed you taught him that.

You put your face in your hands.

“Even though, you dragged me here against my will, I feel so guilty being here.” You complain, hoping it’ll lighten the mood. “You should apologize to everyone because I crashed the party.”

Satoru scoffs. “What are you talking about? Everyone loves you!” He exclaims. “Look, Yu’s ecstatic. Riko won’t stop gushing about you; you even have Nanami’s approval! I don’t even have that!” You roll your eyes, sinking back in your seat.

“Besides, you needed to come. You needed to see it.”

“See what?” You ask.

“This.” He points to the venue, the ballroom full of glittery whites and sparkles.

“Look around, Greeny. Look at all the people you saved.”

Haibara and Riko are dancing together. Two dead children finally had the chance to grow up. Misato speaks to Nanami. Beautiful gray hair, eyes that aren’t so tired. Shoko sparkling in her dress, and Geto—

The same day he was supposed to die, Suguru was getting married.

“Thank you.” When you look at him, Satoru is staring right at you. His sea eyes give everything and more.

“Thank you for saving all of us.”

Your heart skips, then just stops completely. You can’t cry, you won’t not here, not on such a happy day. But your eyes are stinging. And Satoru is turning blurry.

And then, like Satoru always does, he ruins the moment.

"Did you just fall for me a little?"

His head tilts. That same mischievous, irritating smile lights up on his face.

You relax, laughing out of disbelief. When you speak, your voice is barely scratchy. "You're so full of yourself; it's actually a little cute." 

"You think I'm cute?" 

"Did you hear anything else that I just said?" 

"I heard you think I'm cute,” Satoru responds proudly, and you doubt he’d ever let you hear the end of it.

“And besides! Today is supposed to be a celebration for you too!” He exclaims.

“Oh really?”

“Yes,” Satoru says proudly, “you did it! You became a fully-fledged sorcerer. Considering your low CE, you might pass as grade four, but when I talk to our new principal, I’m sure he’ll make things right. Get ready to join be and him in the big leagues.”

You could read between the lines. Satoru wanted to tell everyone. You think a while ago, you might have agreed, but...

“Can...Can I quit being a sorcerer?” You ask. “I’m tired.”

He takes a second. Some of you wonders if he’ll try to talk you out of this. It’s more beneficial for him if you stay as an asset to the jujutsu world. How many people’s lives will be saved by a technique like yours? To be able to go back in time again and again and again. To die again and again and again.

“Someone once told me that it’s okay to be selfish every once in a while.” Satoru looks at you, eyes like lilies once again. “I won’t fault you for it. I don’t think anyone will.”

When you try to smile, it feels wobbly.

“That person sounds smart.”

“Nah.” He grins. “An idiot, actually. Way too oblivious.”

You laugh, despite the insult.

“Quit,” Satoru says when it’s quiet again, “do whatever you want. But...you can’t run away, okay? I won’t let you.”

It’s barely a touch. His hand reaches for your fingers. You’re the one who grabs it.

“I won’t.” You promise. “I won’t.”

He’s satisfied with that. You can tell when he squeezes your hand back.

You look at him, and you decide you won't tell Satoru what happened in the last timeline.

There's no point. It wouldn't do anything but shatter everything he worked so hard to make. Why would you break the glass when you could just add concrete, make it stronger? You saved everyone. A few white lies here and there just keep this future safe.

And you know this Satoru. If you told him, he'd carry that burden with you like the soldier he was. You don't want him to do that. You don't want him to have the same look you see in your own face. One last sacrifice.

When you come back, Satoru is shifting in his seat, uncrossing his legs.

“So...about that dance?”

“Ugh, fine.” You stand up. “One dance. And if you do anything embarrassing, I’m leaving.”

“Clearly, you don’t know me as well as you think you do.” He grins, standing up himself.

He doesn’t release your hand for the rest of the night.

You don’t mind.

(When you disappear again, Maki’s the one who finds you.

By then, it’d been long into the night. Shoko and Suguru were already gone, off to their honeymoon in the Maldives. Riko, Misato, and most of the students were sleeping off the night. Maki, his most diligent student, was helping the remaining adults pack up the venue.

She’s dragging chairs away when she grunts in Satoru’ direction.

“By the way, your date’s sleeping outside.”

Ah, you were on the balcony. No wonder he couldn’t find you. Satoru needed to do something about your cursed energy. What’s the point of having six eyes when he can’t even find the one person who’s evaded him for a decade?

You’ve completely passed out. Slumped over on a chair, head bent at an angle that could not be comfortable. Satoru knows he should feel bad. He dragged you around the entire night like a ragdoll. This was partially his fault.

He can’t really blame himself, not when you were finally here.

It still feels like a dream. Being able to hear your voice, not Suguru’s, not Yu’s. Your touch. Your eyes. Your face. Your laugh. For years, he’s wondered what it sounded like.

Reality beat even his perfect daydreams.

Seeing you up there on the Tokyo Skytree. The wind pushing your hair back and forth. It was breathtaking.

Even the lights of Tokyo, couldn’t compare to you.

He leans down, lips at your ear, voice low because he’s too prideful to let anyone else hear, not even you.

“I know it’s too late, but you looked really pretty tonight.”

You say nothing, but you shift, murmur something in your sleep. It’s all he needs.

He ditches the clean up party, taking you within his arms. He thinks he says something to Yu, but Satoru doesn’t really care if he heard. Right now, he only has one priority.

Tonight, he’ll sleep on the hotel’s pull-out sofa while you snooze in the luxurious queen-sized bed. You’ll probably be mad in the morning, something about how you should’ve taken the couch, but he doesn’t mind your mindless acts of selflessness.

He’s waited a decade. He deserves to keep you.

And he knows you won’t fault him for being selfish one more time.)

[pboogerswbb]

SO IT GOES - chapter 7

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: sexual content, mental abuse, toxic relationship, language Wordcount: 7.7K A/C: SHE'S BAACKKK!!! omg i missed you guys so much you don't even know! I AM BACK and i'm locked in and i finally got this chapter out for you, ty for being so so patient with me, i will have more time to write for everyone now!! ily guys and tysm for 1k followers, i have a little surprise to you to celebrate that soon :)) ILYM <33

italics are flashbacks

-

Before London

“You buckled up?”

“Yes,” I murmur, crossing my legs and looking out the window. It’s one of those days where it’s been grey and gloomy since the morning. The dark clouds billow in along the horizon, causing an unbearable humidity to fall over Dallas. The weather felt heavy, everyone hoping for a gentle May storm to bring some relief. I could feel sweat growing in my neck, the humidity causing my hair to turn unruly, impossible to manage, dark curls twisting every which way except the direction they were supposed to.

The heaviness was impossible to escape, even in Paige’s car - though I’m not exactly sure if it’s the weather or the tension between us having my stomach doing flips.

“Jesus…” The blonde mumbles to herself when a song by The Weeknd starts playing, nimble hands quickly skipping it.

Since our interrupted moment on my couch we hadn’t talked about it, neither of us wanting to be the first to bring it up. We left it at that, just a moment of weakness between us both, Paige avoiding my gaze whenever she could. The blonde, however, had been growing uncharacteristically more frustrated ever since. Whether because of what happened between us or the game tomorrow, I wasn’t sure.

“So… When’s your dad coming?” I ask carefully, knowing she has been irritated all day. Matter of fact Arike and Lou had warned me about it earlier.

“Tonight, I’ll pick him up from the airport,” she mumbles and then groans, hitting the steering wheel like remembering something. “I was gonna clean before but I forgot.”

“Do you need help?”

“Nah.”

“Paige, I really don’t mind,” I insist, watching the hooper driving with practiced ease in her Nike sweats and a black t-shirt. “I kind of owe it to you since you took care of me…”

Paige’s blue eyes flicker from the road to me, back to the road, face turning red at the memory of us on the couch. Just as she’s about to answer, another song by The Weeknd begins to play.

“This fuckin’ playlist,” Paige groans, quickly skipping every song with any type of sexual implications. It was almost funny, really, the way she was behaving. She’s huffing, fumbling with her phone to change songs before throwing the device to me. “Just put on sumn Iz, please, I’m getting pissed off.”

“I can see that,” I chuckle, picking another list which seemingly is more chill. “Nervous about the game huh?”

“I dunno man,” she mumbles, rubbing her face and leaning back against the seat, jaw clenching. Truthfully, I felt just as frustrated, my mind spinning around how the girl felt on top of me. Everything she did felt so effortless, yet had me probably wetter than I had ever been in my life with such ease. The mere memory had been driving me mad, my own hand trying to relieve the ache between my thighs but with no such luck. Honestly the tension was driving me just as frustrated as Paige is. And God this stupid, overbearing heat, the way it had turned my skin sticky, making it hard to breathe. Paige rubs her own chest, as if feeling the exact same.

Even now, watching the blonde, her veiny hands on the wheel, arms glistening with sweat from the humidity, neck bobbing as she swallows heavily, blonde hair down and straight. all of it had that familiar ache grow between my legs again. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone this much.

I lick my lips and move my eyes to the road, beginning to feel flustered. The temptation of toying with the idea of going to bed with the blonde had been growing stronger and stronger, driving me up the wall. Maybe it was time for me to try on someone else. But I felt afraid, it had been years since I slept with anyone else but Jasper. Maybe this could be a good chance to see how it might make me feel? But then again Paige would need to understand that it has to be just sex. Nothing more. No attachment. 

Memories of her filthy words repeat in my head. I swear no one’s ever spoken to me like that before. No one had ever told me such dirty things. It was exhilarating, it had me soaked. 

The drive is quiet, Paige letting out frustrated huffs now and then and chewing on her lower lip.

“Will we still do the pregame interview for socials tomorrow?” I ask.

“Course,” she huffs with annoyance.

“Okay no reason to have an attitude with me now,” I answer, growing a little annoyed or perhaps frustrated too.

She pulls up to our building’s parking lot, exhaling loudly. “You right,” she mumbles and turns to me, face softening exponentially. Paige reaches over, taking both my hands into hers. It’s enough to make my stomach flip. “You right Iz, I’m sorry. Ion wanna be like that with you I just… It’s this damn heat and everything.”

Our eyes lock, and I consider leaning over the center console and kissing her. But I wasn’t brave enough. Not yet, at least.

“It’s okay Paige,” I hum. Slightly hesitantly, the blonde brings my hands up to her mouth and presses a soft kiss to both of them, eyes fluttering shut. I feel the familiar blush build on my cheeks as I watch her, jolts running through my body. No, I’m done being scared. I need her now.

“Can I come over to yours please?” I ask as politely as I can, though the look in my eyes lets Paige know exactly what’s on my mind. I swear I’ve never seen her nod so quickly, barely letting my words sink in. She clumsily climbs out of the car, practically running to my side to open the door and helping me out. The blonde’s steps are hurried, long strides making it hard for me to keep up as we climb to her floor, a slight grin on my face as I watch the eagerness in which she was moving with. 

Paige’s hands scramble with the lock, the key shaking a little in her hand as she finally opens the door, allowing me in first. My stomach starts to twist, and there’s a burn spreading around my upper thighs as I take off my heels, suddenly significantly shorter than the blonde girl following on my tail.

I hear the door close and turn around, chest heaving much like Paige’s is as I watch her blue eyes roaming my body, the black pencil skirt and the body hugging maroon short-sleeved top, her gaze landing on my face, mouth already agape and breaths growing heavy. 

For a moment we just breathe, our eyes locked on each other, taking the moment in. The tension, the pent up frustration, the need we have for each other, until the blonde snaps and pushes me into the wall which feels cold against my warm back. Paige’s hands land on my waste as our lips crash into a messy, sloppy, needy kiss. A type of kiss I had never had before. It leaves me breathless, my arms wrapping around her shoulders, long fingers wrapping into her hair and pulling the girl closer. She moves her lips off mine, beginning to trail to my neck, hands on my waist travelling downwards to my ass, groaning as she feels it under her grip. 

“W-wait,” I gasp breathlessly, legs already beginning to shake. 

“Mhm,” Paige hums against my skin, lips never quitting working on my neck. 

“I- fuck,” I whimper. “I just need you to know that this has to be just sex.”

Without even thinking I feel the blonde nod, lips sucking right below my ear. “Okay, whatever you want Iz.”

I pull her away from my neck by her hair, meeting her eyes. “I’m serious. Just sex.”

Paige’s eyelids are heavy, the normally bright blue of her eyes turning dark with lust as she gazes down at me. “Izara, I mean it. Whatever you want me to be I’mma be okay?”

When those words leave the blonde’s mouth I nearly crumble to the ground. I can’t wait for a second longer, the wetness pooling between my legs enough proof of that.

“Take me to bed,” I tell the younger girl, who picks me up with ease as my legs wrap around her torso. She kisses me hungrily, our tongues meeting in a battle for dominance which the blonde soon wins as she places me down on her bed softly, my skirt now hiked up halfway up my thighs.

For a moment Paige stands above me, eyes roaming my body as she shakes her head in disbelief. “You’re so beautiful,” she mumbles, then climbs on top of me, her right hand hiking my skirt all the way up, revealing my lacy red panties. When Paige notices, she lets out a groan, practically drooling but working hard to pace herself.

“Take this off,” I murmur, yanking on Paige’s t-shirt.

“Yes ma’am,” she replies, pulling it over her head and onto the floor. I watch the way her muscles in her abdomen clench and I can’t help but drag my fingernails along it as she sits up on top of me, straddling me while I lie flat against the soft blanket.

“Fuck,” she moans hoarsely, throwing her head back, her hands inching underneath my top.

“Would you like it off?” I ask, chest heaving.

“Yes. Please.”

I pull the top off, the blonde’s fingertips leaving tingles as they drag over my ribs. Somehow I don’t feel nervous, all my anxious thoughts left the second I felt Paige on me again.

“Goddamn…” The girl sighs, her hand dragging to my matching lace bra and palming my round breast, making me whimper. I pull her down by the chain on her neck, kissing her feverishly, my underwear growing wetter with every passing moment, mind spinning with need. As I let out a whine, Paige gets the hint, her right hand dragging down my body to my bare thigh and squeezing. 

My back arches off the bed, another whine spilling from my lips but quickly silenced by the blonde’s kiss, her fingers trailing up my inner thigh torturously slowly.

“Paige,” I cry out.

“Tell me what you want?” Paige asks, her voice gravelly in a way I haven’t heard before.

“You to touch me,” I whimper, my brows furrowing with need. “Please.”

“So polite ma,” she grins, beginning to kiss my neck, inching downwards my body to my breasts. “I’mma take good care of you baby, don’ worry.”

My legs spread wider in anticipation as her lips trail downwards along my stomach. I can feel my head spinning, unable to accept that this is real and actually happening. That I would finally find relief to the awful ache inside me.

Faint giggles take me out of the moment, snapping me back to reality. I must’ve imagined - no wait, I can definitely hear giggles. “Paige,” I say.

“Mhm,” she hums, kissing along my inner thighs now.

“You hear that?”

“Hear what,” she mumbles against my skin, nuzzling it, her eyes finally opening when I sit up.

“Listen,” I complain, pushing her off by her forehead to make her pay attention.

“I hear nothin, just lie down and re-”

It’s clear. The sound coming from the front door. Paige’s front door, someone fumbling with the key in the keyhole, turning it and-

“What the fuck?” Paige asks, abruptly getting off me and hurrying to the door of her bedroom, peeking into the corridor in her sports bra and sweats. I get up too, pulling my skirt down, wanting to cry with frustration.

-

There they are. By my doorstep. KK, Ice, Azzi, Jana and Ash, holding balloons and banners and other decorations, giggling amongst each other.

“I- wh- KK? Ice? A- how did y’all get in?” I ask, eyes flickering between the girls and Izara in the bedroom, pulling her skirt down and throwing her top on frantically. 

“Why aren’t you at practice?”

“It ended early,” I say, my voice rising uncharacteristically as I attempt to steady my breathing from what almost just happened. How close I was to getting what I had been craving for weeks. I loved these girls but, God could I kill them right now. “How the hell do y’all got a key to my place??”

“Oh it’s your dad’s,” Azzi giggles. “We were gonna surprise you, he’s downstairs.”

Oh so not only my girls but my dad was gonna arrive at the scene. With a girl in my bedroom. I glance at Iz, who’s fixing her hair in the mirror, but she looks completely fucked out. And I bet I do too. I had no idea how to explain myself out of this one.

“Wh-” I start

“Yeah why aren’t you hugging us and shit? You forget all about us?” KK huffs.

I rub my face, letting out a heavy exhale when Izzie walks out of the bedroom into the eyeline of the group of girls. All their eyes widen, and I can’t ignore the shared looks between them. Quick, Paige, say something.

“Uhh, guys this is Iz- I mean, Zari, she uh, was over to uh…” I scratch the back of my neck, KK already covering her mouth trying not to laugh.

“I just needed to borrow…” Izzie’s eyes scan the room. “Paige’s lamp! Mine broke, so. Couldn’t see to read my book.” Her face is bright red, the usual composure with which she presented herself completely gone. I almost groan at the excuse but realise that would just make the situation seem a million times worse.

“Yes! She was! Uh let me get it for you,” I mumble, about to walk into the bedroom to actually grab a lamp for the girl.

“No no! You say hi to your friends, I can do it myself!”

I wanna bury my face into my hands and go back into the bedroom and lock the door and never come out. All the girls are staring with amused faces, hands holding balloons and flyers and little decorations in preparation for my first game tomorrow, clearly suspicious of us two. Just when I think it can’t get worse, my dad - yes my dad - walks in.

“Why are you girls all- Oh hi, don’t you have practice?” He asks, holding a cake.

I rub the bridge of my nose, not sure whether to laugh or cry at this point.

“Got home early,” I sigh, too flustered to even enjoy the fact that my best friends and my dad were here to see me.

“This girl here is borrowing a lamp,” KK mumbles under her breath to my dad, trying to hold in her snickers. What a stupid excuse. I thought Izzie was supposed to be smart. Borrowing a lamp, what kinda excuse was that?

My dad’s eyes land on Izzie, flickering between me and her and the awkwardly large distance between us as if that might help us look less suspicious. Though based on the small grin on my dad’s face, I can tell it’s doing the exact opposite.

“I’m Bob, Paige’s dad,” my dad slides inside through the girls who are eyeing the situation with amused expressions, shaking hands with Iz like I wasn’t just between her legs ready to do something unimaginable.

“Hey, I’m Izara. I’m a friend of your daughter’s.”

“Izara huh?” He turns to me with a sly grin, something I’d inherited. “You haven’t mentioned an Izara?”

“She prefers Zari,” I correct, trying to avoid his eye. “She does media for the Wings.”

For a moment everyone’s quiet, multiple pairs of eyes staring at me, then Zari, then me again. The silence lingers, bordering on uncomfortable when to everyone’s relief KK speaks.

“Bro we don’t even get a hug or nothing?”

-

She’s there, sitting on my couch, in between Ice and Azzi and laughing that sweet giggle of hers. She looks comfortable, already gaining the approval of my friends with ease. We’re sitting in a circle around the coffee table eating pizza, easy conversation flowing between everyone. But all I could pay attention to was the brunette girl, how easily she fit in, how she had already charmed the hell out of my dad. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, the way her eyes sparkle when she laughs at my friends’ stupid jokes, or the coy smile on her perfect lips when my dad asks her a question. I needed her, badly, even more than before if possible. 

“Excuse me, I need some water,” Izara catches my eye and excuses herself to the kitchen. Without a word I get up, following on her trail like a puppy. I know everyone notices us leaving, but I don’t care. I wanted to take every second to be with her, to touch her, to have her to myself.

“Hey,” I mumble, leaning against the doorframe and watching as she looks through my cupboards for glasses.

“Hey,” she hums with a smile. I walk to the girl, pressing my front into her back as I reach for a glass in the cupboard above us.

“Oh, thank you,” Izzie says, her voice shaky as my hand lands on her waist. The girls’ voices are loud but distant, echoing around the sparsely furnished living room. So in a moment of weakness I allow my head to tilt down into the crook of Izara’s neck, inhaling the fruity, gentle jasmine scent of her perfume, nuzzling my nose against her goosebump forming skin. I feel her shift, the curve of her ass pressing against me as I allow my lips to press soft kisses onto her golden skin.

The dark haired girl lets out a shaky breath and the sound drives me wild, it taking every drop of my self discipline not to make everyone leave just so I could have my way with her, just to make her feel good. Izzie’s head tilts back, resting against my chest as I bite on her shoulder, my lips gliding and leaving sloppy kisses on her neck.

“Paige,” she whispers chuckling, clearly torn between asking me to stop and asking for more.

“You’re fucking killing me,” I murmur into her ear, my voice hoarse and trembling with need. 

The girl turns around, her green, emerald eyes wider than usual looking up at me as her hand moves onto my chest. I let my fingertips slide underneath the hem of her shirt, feeling the soft skin there. “We’ll have time. Later,” she comforts me softly, but it’s not enough.

I throw my head back in frustration and groan, like a child not getting their way.

“Izzie I’m so forreal, I need to have you before the game tomorrow or I’mma be so out of it.”

The girl giggles, shaking her head, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Come over in the morning?”

“I gotta leave at 10. Needa take my time with you.”

Izzie chuckles. “Okay, 8:30?”

“8:00,” I argue, though no amount of time would be enough.

“Do you need two hours?” The girl laughs but I shake my head, trying to stifle the grin on my face.

“Ion need more than five minutes ma, trust,” my words make Izzie’s cheeks turn a shade of red. “But need to take my time. Wanna do it just right.”

Izara might be poised and have a great poker face, but I can tell she needs it as bad as I do. It’s in the way her chest is heaving, the way her pupils are wide and the way her mouth is parted. So I lean in, my lips hovering over her ear.

“Gonna eat that pussy so good ma, gonna have you crying-”

“Yooo…”

I pull away urgently, helped by the fact that Izzie practically pushes me off her, both our heads turning to KK standing in the doorway, trying not to laugh.

“Uhh, I’mma be back,” she says turning around but I grab the shorter girl by the arm and pull her back in.

“Whatchu need?”

Izzie is blushing, trying to hide the smile growing onto her face by holding her hand over her mouth and staring at the wall.

“A tissue, I dropped some food,” KK says.

I gasp. “Bro not on the rug right?”

KK scoffs, grabbing the tissue from me. “Dallas changed you already ‘cause why you care about a rug more than me?”

-

Paige

Yo I’m so sorry I gotta head in early

That’s okay Paige, good luck. I’ll see you before the game, yeah?

I reread the texts on my screen that I never got an answer to. I’m not worried, she’s probably nervous. Or busy. But it’s so… unlike her. Paige was usually the one to message me back the moment I texted her. I was probably overthinking. I hated how I got when I liked someone. Not that I liked Paige. I wanted her badly. But there were no feelings involved and there surely could never be. I wasn’t even close to being ready.

Despite all that I could feel an uncomfortable twist somewhere deep in my stomach watching the way the blonde girl had left me on read. Like I always did when I began to get feelings. I was painfully aware of how scary it was, those feelings stirring within me again. I just had to keep them in control. I know how these things end. I know Paige seems amazing right now - unreal almost. But it was just an illusion. Soon she’d be bored of me, leaving me in tears, crying myself to sleep at 3am. That’s how it always ended up. I promised myself I’d never be that girl again.

-

“Jasper, please, could we just sit down and communicate?”

My voice is steady, gentle, like it had to be when he was in one of these moods. I sit on the couch, watching as he paces around me, trying not to blow up. I try to make myself small, breathe quiet, not look him in the eye, anything that might set him off. Once Jasper was set off there was nothing to do. I knew that better than anyone.

“Here we go again,” he groans, throwing his head back in frustration. A bitter, sarcastic laugh escapes his mouth.

“No, not like that, please. I swear I just want to talk-”

“No Izara you want to bitch about my drinking again. You’re behaving like a controlling bitch-”

There’s a pang of pain in my chest, the tears I’ve been swallowing making themselves known as my eyes grow wet.

“Please, Jasper, I’ve asked you before not to call me that,” I plead, my voice still soft but growing weaker.

The man rolls his eyes at the sight of me. “Wow, here we go again. Poor Zari, always perfect, always the victim.”

“I never said I was perfect, far from it! I’m just asking you to not call me a bitch,” I debate, my voice rising in response to feeling defensive.

“I didn’t even say you were a bitch! I said you’re behaving like one!” His voice is harsh, cutting through the air and ringing my ear painfully. Familiarly. This was a discussion we’d had about 15 times before. And it always went the same. I don’t even know why I was still trying. 

“God, you’re so manipulative, trying to put words into my mouth,” he murmurs under his breath. He’d said those words so many times part of me had started to think he might be right. Maybe I am manipulative. Maybe I need to just let him be. I’m being dramatic and his drinking wasn’t an issue. Jasper never physically hurt me or hit me. It could be so much worse. Words can only do so much.

I feel the tears spill over finally, dripping down my cheeks. As Jasper notices he lets out a laugh, shaking his head. “What, you’re crying now? Like you’re the victim here?”

“Jasper, please, I’m tired,” I cry, my voice shaky as I bury my face into my hands. “Can we just forget this and go to sleep? I’ve got that important meeting tomorrow.”

“Well probably should’ve thought of that before, huh? Before starting all this drama for nothing!”

“I just wished you wouldn’t have been so drunk tonight! I was having a hard day, I needed you with me!” I finally snap, yelling back. I never yell, but sometimes with Jasper it felt like it was the only way for him to hear me. Even though I always hated myself afterwards.

“So what? I’m a bad boyfriend? Worst boyfriend in the world?”

“No, that’s not what I said-”

“Fine, if I’m so bad I’ll leave,” Jasper simply says. walking to the entryway, grabbing his coat off the coat rack. Urgently, I get up and run after him, panic spreading all over me. He knew this triggered me. He did this every time he was about to “lose” one of our fights. Because it hurt me the most.

“Wait, wait wait wait,” I cry, my voice weak and trembling as I grab his arm. “Please no, don’t go, please, Jasper, please.”

He ignores me, pulling his arm out of my reach and looking for his keys.

“Jasper,” I sob, legs too shaky to hold me up anymore. I fall to my knees, trying not to throw up all over the man. “Jasper, please. I’m sorry. You’re right, I’m too hard on you. You’re so wonderful to me. I love you okay, I love you. I’m sorry. Please don’t leave me.”

The man finally turns, looking down at me and shaking his head as my wide eyes blink up at him. With a deep sigh, he puts down his keys and lifts me up from the ground.

“Are you done?” He asks, voice frustrated and tired.

I nod, tears still spilling from my eyes. “I’m sorry, please don’t go. Please.”

“I won’t Izara, but these fits of yours need to end,” Jasper says as his comforting, familiar arms wrap around me.

“You’re right, Jasper. It’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

-

My cab finally pulls up to College Park Center, and I quickly slide in through the side door, making my way through the confusing corridors with practiced ease now. I wanted to find the blonde girl, just to make sure she was okay. Just to see her before the game. I check the gym, the weight room, the dining hall but see no sign of her. Finally, as a last resort, I knock on the door of the dressing room, shifting on my feet and smoothing over my black mini skirt and the red sweater hanging off my right shoulder nervously. At last the door opens, Lou peeking her head out with a smile.

“Oh hey.”

“Hey Lou, happy game day!” I greet her, trying to not make it obvious I was looking for someone. Like I was just casually there to wish the girls good luck.

“Thanks Zari, big day,” the girl smiles, looking at me expectantly.

“Oh, uh, is um, is-”

“Paige is here, you need her?” I don’t miss the grin on the brunette’s face, the knowing look she has in her eyes. Thought I had been hiding it better with Paige, apparently not.

“Yes, actually I do,” I chuckle awkwardly, clasping my hands in front of me, acrylics scratching against my skin. My heart races as I wait, my stomach turning at the idea of seeing her. Seeing Paige.

Soon the blonde girl arrives at the door, but the familiar wide smile isn't there. Her eyes look red, tired, the skin darker than usual underneath, mouth in a straight line. 

“Paige, are you okay?” I ask, taken back by her appearance.

She looks at me for a while, blue eyes landing on mine, big hand rubbing her jaw. “I’m alright.”

I can tell that she’s not. 

“Paige,” I repeat, looking at her challengingly. The blond sighs and shrugs and it’s then I notice the shaking of her hands. Uncontrollable, clearly visible. “Whoa, what’s going on darling?”

She looks back into the changing room before stepping out, shaky hand rubbing her eyes. I don’t miss the slight tremble of her lower lip, the way her blue eyes grow glossy.

“Whoa, hold on love,” I coo, grabbing a hold of her hand and pulling her into a new corridor, opening the door to the often empty media team office to find it desolate of people once more. “Come on.”

I close the door behind us and watch closely as the blonde plots herself down on the couch, chest heaving fast. 

“Paige, talk to me,” I comfort her, following behind and sitting next to her. As the blonde lifts her blue eyes off the floor, I see she’s tearing up avoiding my gaze.

“I’m so fucking scared Iz,” she admits, lower lip quivering. My heart fills with affection, and instinctively I wrap my arms around her broad, bare shoulders in her sports bra. 

“Of what?”

“Of screwing up, everyone got crazy expectations. Everyone gonna be watching,” Paige sighs, sniffling weakly. I had never seen her like this, in my head she wasn’t afraid of anything. Guess I was wrong.

“Paige,” I begin, pulling back and grabbing hold of her warm hands. “It’s a big moment, it’s okay to be nervous, to be scared even. But you’re not gonna fail. The only expectations that matter are the ones you put on yourself.”

“I don’t know, I love my girls y’know but fuck I don’t need em here today,” she sighs, wiping a tear from her left cheek. I let my thumb help her a little, brushing against her soft skin. 

“They wanted to surprise you, they love you very much, you know?”

“I know,” Paige murmurs, her thumbs rubbing the skin of my palms. “But I just needed to focus on myself today. I dunno, just feel really fucking overwhelmed.”

“Hey,” I stop her, chasing her gaze. The blonde’s blue eyes meet mine, finally softening. “You’re going to go out there, and you’re going to pretend it’s just you and your team at practice. No audience today, no one you know watching. Just you. And whether you get none of your shots in or all of them, it’s okay. And you get to try again. You’re just dipping your toes in okay? This isn't the defining moment of your career. It’s just one of many.”

Paige listens and takes every word in, processing as her eyes remain locked in mine. Finally her brows soften and she lets out a final, relieved breath. 

“My dad really liked you, talked about you all night after you left.”

“Really?” I grin, making the blonde nod with a smile. 

“My friends too, they wanna get to know you better,” Paige adds. I feel a slight panic in my chest for a moment, the fear of what Paige might’ve said to her friends about us. After all, we had agreed to be just friends despite everything. I hope she didn’t have the wrong idea that I might change my mind.

“Wish I had time to come see you this morning.”

I feel my cheeks heat up immediately. “Yeah?”

She nods, a small grin growing on her face. “Yeah, wouldn’t be feeling so tense.”

I chuckle as her hands let go of mine, landing on the back of my head and pulling me into a sweet, caring kiss that takes me by surprise. But I can’t bear to pull away, nor do I want to. So for a moment we kiss, our lips moving together sending jolts all over my body as the blonde’s hand lowers to my waist and pulls me closer to her. Without a thought my body obeys, skirt hiking up as she pulls me on top of her to straddle her.

Both of our breathing grows heavier as the kiss turns more urgent, Paige exhaling loud through her nose as her hand finds the soft skin of my bare upper thigh, grabbing it needily making me wince. I could feel my arousal pooling between my legs once more, the blonde’s hand sliding upwards until her thumb meets the sheer fabric of my panties, pressing against my clit. We both let out a quiet, desperate whimper, me from the contact, her from how wet I already was. 

This wasn’t sensible, anyone could walk in. Paige’s first ever game in the league would start in only a few hours and she had just been crying from feeling so overwhelmed. But both of us had forgotten, too consumed by the lust that had been eating us alive. I needed her. She needed me.

Paige pulls away from the kiss, long eyelashes blinking at me and pink lips slightly parted. She looked beautiful, like she was already completely out of it. 

“Need to feel you ma, please let me,” she whines, looking for any sign of approval on my face. “Need to feel this pussy around my fingers.”

No one had ever spoken in such a filthy way to me before. And it drove me crazy. The sheer dirtiness of the things Paige said, the way her voice turned hoarse and whiny, the way she really, truly behaved like she would die unless she got to fuck me. I had never experienced it before. Everything about it intoxicated me, my soaked panties prove of how much so.

“Paige, are you sure this is smart?” I ask, my voice weak and shaky.

“Ion care about smart, need to fuck you before my big game,” the blonde murmurs, beginning to kiss my neck, fingertips rubbing gentle circles on my clit against the fabric. “Please mama, need to make you cum, that’s all I want.”

I let out another whimper, her words winning me over.

“C’mon ma, can feel how wet you are for me. Lemme help baby, lemme take care of you.”

Finally I snap, desperately nodding. Without missing a beat, Paige’s fingers hook around the edge of my panties, pulling them to the side as I stay straddling her, feeling the cool air on my dripping cunt.

“This ain’t right. I gotta see that shit,” Paige murmurs and before I understand what she means, she’s pushing me back, my spine hitting the couch as she remains still, my thighs spread wide for her as she sits in between.

Paige’s blue eyes are nearly blown out black with lust as her gaze travels slowly from my flushed face, to my heaving chest, down my stomach, all the way to the panties slid to the side, finally landing on my core. I swear I have never seen the girl so dazed, like everything around her disappeared, her lips parting further, tongue darting out to lick them.

“Fuck,” she whispers, fingers spreading my lips apart to see my wetness glistening in the lighting of the office. To see my folds and the way I was already throbbing for her. I had never been looked at like that before, yet didn’t feel shy or unsure. Because I could tell Paige was in absolute awe.

“So fucking pretty, huh?” The blonde asks, finger carefully brushing up and down against my folds and clit, making my whole body shiver. She was barely touching me yet I couldn’t fight the whine spilling from my lips. This was so unlike me, spread out in overhead lighting in a room anyone could walk into at any moment with a girl I hadn’t even been out on a date with. But it was the last thing I cared about. I needed Paige Bueckers to fuck me now.

“Paige, fuck me,” I demand, my voice breathy and brows furrowed as I watch her.

A sly grin forms on her lips as she gathers wetness through my folds with ease, beginning to circle my clit lazily. The sound is obscene, caused by how slick I had grown for her in the past few minutes. I moan softly, covering my own mouth and letting my eyes fall closed.

“What do you need? Tell me baby,” Paige coos, but she knows. She can see the way my pussy is clenching around nothing, crying for her, begging to be filled. 

“Baby,” I whimper, bucking my hips but the blonde’s free hand brings me down by my thigh.

“Use your words ma.”

“Inside,” I whisper, cheeks growing redder at having to tell the girl with words what I needed from her.

“Yeah? You need my fingers inside your pussy?”

I nod, the words making my arousal grow even more.

“Please,” I add, hoping to hurry the blonde along.

Suddenly, Paige’s fingers slide downwards towards my entrance, circling before two of them begin to break into me, painfully slowly. A loud gasp threatens to spill from my lips but the blonde covers my mouth quickly, her fingers sliding into me all the way. 

It’s impossible to describe how good it feels, to feel her touch me like this. The stretch of her fingers making my body tense and relax simultaneously. I was in heaven, surely sex never felt like this before. Only with her.

“Oh fuck you’re so tight,” Paige hisses, beginning to curl her fingers against me. The sound of squelching quickly takes over, only joined with both our moans. My back arches desperately, and I feel myself writhing for more, for the blonde to move faster.

It’s in the moment I’m about to start begging for more, the familiar sound of a keycard being slid against the reader takes over. Someone’s about to open the door. Both of us panic, Paige pulling her fingers away and quickly getting up from the couch as I struggle to get off my back, pulling my skirt down eagerly right as Trey walks in.

“Oh hey!” He smiles widely, oblivious to the heavy breathing me and Paige are both trying to get under control. “Oh Paige! Whatchu doing here?”

“Uh,” she murmurs, fingers still glistening with me before she wipes them on her thigh. “We uh,”

“We were planning that pregame interview! Should we film it soon?” I quickly interrupt, noticing Paige’s flustered expression. The shake in my legs is obvious, so I lean against the wall next to me.

“Yeah yeah, the interview,” the blonde murmurs which makes Trey’s brown eyes light up.

“Well great! Why don’t you go change and we film after.”

Paige glances at me as I do her, both of us trying to ignore the tension in the room that the man seemed to not recognise.

“Uhh yeah, lemme go do that,” the taller girl mumbles and leaves, my heart pounding faster than ever from earlier. As she closes the door, Trey turns to me.

“By the way Zari, we shouldn’t let anyone back here that isn’t part of the team, okay? Linda would freak.”

“Oh,” I say, brushing my hand through my hair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

Trey looks at me for a while, leaning back against the desk behind him.

“You know, it’s okay to be friends with players but I think it’s better to keep things at a professional distance. Don’t wanna be getting too close, you know what I mean?”

I can tell he’s digging for something, trying to get me to fess up. Instead I cross my arms over my chest and nod. “Agreed, shall we prepare the interview?”

-

“Okay, Paige, stand here.”

Trey is maneuvering the blonde around, trying to find the best lighting as I check my notes over and over, my mind still swirling with all the interrupted moments that are growing tiresome. Paige is fiddling with her hands, staring at anything but me feeling just as frustrated by the interruption.

“Ahh, got it. Zari, would you.”

“Yes,” I murmur and step next to the blonde, a slight awkward distance between us. Every cell in me was itching to get closer, to press into her. I was dying for her. But it wasn’t the time. I had to focus on work. It was just hard to look away from her. That’s it.

“Closer Zari,” Trey chuckles, reaching for my shoulder and pushing me closer to Paige. We exchange an awkward, slightly giddy smile and I can tell the girl is beginning to blush, our shoulders pressing together. The blonde gazes upwards towards the low ceilings of the corridor, trying to kill the smile growing on her face.

“Okay, we good?” Trey asks, and I let out a soft giggle. Paige looks at me and giggles too, confusing the man behind the camera. “Something wrong?”

“No, no, we’re good,” I giggle, looking to the floor. The blonde nods in agreement, licking her lips to stifle the grin.

“Whenever you’re ready ladies,” Trey says, pressing record.

I take a deep breath, turning my eyes to the blue ones beside me. The ones I could get lost in forever. But now wasn’t the time. Not the time Izara. Work.

“I am here with our dear rookie, Paige,” I smile, licking my lower lip and looking away from the blonde, her intense gaze becoming too much. “First game today, how are we feeling?”

Paige kisses her teeth and sighs. “Oh man,” she starts, blue eyes boring into the side of my face. “It feels surreal, I’ve been waiting for this moment my whole life and now it’s finally here. Feelin’ really blessed and fortunate for sure. Playing my first against the Lynx just feels right, you know.”

I watch as her lips move, the way the edges of them curve when she speaks, barely registering the words coming out from how badly I needed her. 

“Favourite thing about Dallas so far?” I ask, crossing my arms and smiling up at the blonde. Her blue eyes are sparkling, a slight glimmer in them as she watches me with a smirk. As if the camera wasn’t filming every moment.

“Oh definitely the ribs,” Paige grins, suddenly interrupted by Arike standing at the other end of the corridor.

“Yooo, bro what?!” 

Me and Paige both begin to laugh, leaning into each other as we do. My hand instinctively graces her forearm as Trey pangs the camera to Arike.

“Alright, alright. And Arike,” Paige chuckles, making me scoff.

“Oy!” I shout, slapping her arm playfully.

“And you!” She grins, raising her hands in defeat. I can’t help the blush covering my face or the stupid smile stretching across.

“As I should be,” I joke, taking a deep breath and trying to remind myself of the planned questions and of Trey’s watchful eyes. It felt impossible under Paige’s gaze so intensely roaming my face, eye fucking me.

“You’ve got some friends and family in the audience tonight, who are you most excited to see you play tonight?”

The blonde looks at me for a meaningful moment, and I don’t miss what she wants to say. What she’s trying to express with her eyes. What she can’t admit in front of Trey.

“Uhh,” she blinks stupidly, finally breaking eye contact. “Probably my dad, yeah. But I’m excited to play for all the Wings fans too, needa impress them.”

“I’m sure you will,” I smile, my tone clearly flirty yet I don’t even recognise the fact. “Happy game day!!”

“Happy game day,” Paige echoes my words, wrapping an arm around my shoulder just as Trey puts the camera down. Yet the man keeps staring over at the two of us, studying every move, every exchanged look.

“Paige! Go change and let’s start warming up, c’mon!” Chris nods the blonde towards the lockers. I see her eyes turn to me once more, softening. 

“Wish me luck ma,” she murmurs, wrapping her arms around me and pulling me into a hug. I let her.

“Good luck Paige,” I mumble into her eyes, letting go and watching as she walks into the dressing room, leaving me alone with Trey. I could feel nerves bubbling in my stomach, heart beginning to pound in anticipation for the game. The man watches me for a while, deep in thought.

“Zari…. I gotta ask you something,” the man starts, his voice echoing in the corridor. He walks us to our office letting me know this wasn’t going to be a light subject, which made me nervous.

I sit on the desk, my legs hanging off as I cross them and watch the brunette pace around the room for a moment before turning to me. 

“Is there something going on with you and Paige?”

Fuck.

I think about lying, looking through my brain for any cover up story. There isn’t one. I was a horrible liar anyway. So I just sigh, looking down before nodding.

“Yeah, I didn’t mean for there to be but I like her. She likes me,” I admit, carefully looking at the man. “Look, it’s nothing though. Nothing serious, just fun.”

“For fucks sake Zari,” Trey sighs, rubbing his forehead.

“Excuse me?” I ask offended. Sure, it wasn’t great, but he was hugely overreacting.

Trey walks over to me and grabs a hold of my hands, stopping much too close to my liking.

“Zari, Linda is very… strict. You know this. But she does not allow anything like this, she must’ve told you? She gave me this big speech too when I came in.”

I blink at him, my lips parting a little. It wasn’t allowed. That’s it. That simple.

“Wh- no she never said,” I murmur. Trey nods, letting out a sigh.

“Zari you have to end it. You could get fired.”

My heart drops, mind starts spinning. I could get fired. Have to go back to the UK. Just like that. Fired. Just because I didn’t have the self-discipline to resist Paige.

“Trey, you’re not going to-”

He shakes his head. “No, of course not. Linda won’t know. But only if you end it now, okay? If she finds out I know I could get in trouble too.”

I look at the walls, covered in pictures of the entire Dallas Wings overtime, faces changing and some persisting year after year. I finally land on this year’s picture, on the blonde standing on the right side, smiling that familiar, wide, charming smile. It didn’t matter how much I liked her, how badly I needed her on me. None of it would matter if I got fired, if I got my visa revoked. I couldn’t do this dance we’d been playing the past month anymore. I had to end it.

-

taglist:@wbbgetsmewetter @thaatdigitaldiary @pb524830 @bueckersfive @lupinqs @sierrale8ne @d3arapril @lovegalor333 @avvwritesstufff @rosemariiaa @bueckers22 @taylynbueckers44 @unadulteratedcyclepaper @rizzlerbuckets @wosolipa @bridgetloveswomen @paiges-1vur @slut4uconnwbb @xxloveralways14 @bueckersbitch @janaelalfysblunt @omg-imtumbling @angryflowerwitch @ohbueckers

[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (12 - Red)

Chapter Summary: Unable to accept that she is now part of the team, you try to avoid Wanda Maximoff at all cost.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 4k+ | Chapter Tags: Age of Ultron!Wanda, Enemies to Lovers (sort of)

A/N: I got some interesting asks about Y/N's background. There are backstories about Y/N that will come up since Part 2 is purely a flashback. However, things such as how she became an Avenger is not covered, but you're welcome to ask me for headcanons (or give your own!). P.S. Someone asked how old Y/N is in the flashbacks, and she's actually younger than Wanda P.P.S get ready for some action too! it's my first time writing such a scene *_*// More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pretending Wanda Maximoff didn’t exist was easier than you initially thought.

You got good at avoiding her. It became part of your routine—timing your movements through the compound to miss her by minutes, memorizing her schedule so you could always be somewhere else. Sometimes you’d see a hint of her around a corner, a flash of the crimson jacket she usually wore or the dark fall of her hair, but you'd steer in the opposite direction without a second thought.

She seemed to reciprocate—or maybe she simply picked up on the hint. Either way, you both managed to coexist without the need to acknowledge the other. You, a lifelong night owl, suddenly found yourself becoming a morning person the moment you realized Wanda preferred the training room in the evenings. Working out before dawn felt like the safest plan. You told yourself it was working.

Meals, however, were trickier. The kitchen and dining area were unavoidable shared spaces, and schedules didn’t always align as neatly as you’d hoped. Some mornings, you’d find her already there, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea, or she’d walk in just as you were finishing up. 

The team had a tradition—dinners together, a semblance of family in a life that lacked roots. You started to skip these, opting for protein bars or quick microwaves alone. It was easier than facing her across the table, being reminded of what she forced you to see back in Johannesburg. 

But then you noticed Wanda stopped showing up, too. On the nights you did show up, her seat was empty. The others didn’t seem bothered, but you couldn’t shake the feeling it was your fault. 

Despite having won the territory, you couldn’t shake the guilt that came with it.

—

Steve and Tony were at each other’s throats again.

Their arguments had become more frequent in recent weeks, and although you usually stayed out of it, they were beginning to take its toll on the team. You could tell lines were being drawn; team members quietly taking sides, aligning themselves according to whoever had a mission lined up. 

You walked into the meeting room, late as usual, pretending you hadn't heard them from halfway across the building. Steve stood rigid, arms crossed over his chest, jaw set like granite. Tony reclined with that maddeningly casual air that mostly irked Steve, one hand tucked in his pocket while the other animatedly waved as he spoke. 

Wanda was tucked away in the corner farthest from the door, partially shielded by Vision. Trying to avoid Wanda only made you seek her out involuntarily, as much as you wished not to.

“I'm telling you, Tony, allowing the government to dictate our actions undermines everything we stand for,” Steve said.

Oh. This again? The politics of it all was your least favorite thing about being an Avenger.

“Accountability,” Tony replied. “We can't keep making unilateral decisions without considering the global implications.”

Steve shook his head. “We've operated just fine without bureaucratic red tape slowing us down. Every second counts when lives are at stake.”

Tony snorted in a way that’s supposed to rile up Steve even more. “Operating 'just fine'? You call the messes we've left behind 'just fine'?”

You cleared your throat. “Sounds like a party in here.”

Neither of them acknowledged you. Your gaze unintentionally drifted toward Wanda, and you caught her eyes just as she quickly looked away.

“Since when did you become a fan of bureaucracy?” Steve asked.

“Since the paperwork started piling up from our little international incidents,” Tony said, pouring himself another shot of whiskey. 

You grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, leaning against the counter as their words volleyed back and forth. 

“Paperwork? Is that what this is about? You’re tired of paperwork?”

“I’m tired of taking the blame for all of us,” Tony said. 

“Well, you did create Ultron, didn’t you?”

Tony's eyes narrowed. If he weren't clad in his robe, he'd be suiting up right now. “Low blow, Rogers.”

“Truth hurts,” Steve replied.

You took a bite of your apple. “You two need a time-out or something?”

Tony turned to you, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “Ah, look who finally joined us. Got anything to say?”

“Nope,” you replied, chewing deliberately. “But could you tone it down? Your arguing is scaring the children.”

“You are the ‘children’,” Clint said with a smirk and you gave him a dirty look. 

Natasha hid a smile behind her glass. 

“I meant Vision,” you said, pointedly not looking at the synthezoid lest your gaze accidentally land on Wanda again.

Steve exhaled sharply. “This isn't a joke.”

Natasha set her glass down carefully. “Does this really need to be settled now?” she asked, her tone of voice indicating she’s taking charge now. “We gathered the team for a briefing, remember?”

“You're right,” Steve conceded. “We can discuss this later.”

Tony shrugged. “Fine by me.”

Clint leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “So, what's on the agenda?”

Vision, to your surprise, got up from his seat. You recalled that before becoming whatever he was now, he had been Stark's AI, which gave him direct access to global networks. He would be among the first to hear any distress calls.

“We've received intelligence about a potential threat escalating in Southeastern Europe,” Vision said.

You took another bite of your apple, listening but keeping your expression neutral.

Steve picked up a remote and clicked it, causing a holographic map to appear in the center of the room. Red markers dotted a specific region. “A rogue faction has been intercepting shipments of advanced weaponry.”

Tony arched an eyebrow. “Let me guess—Stark tech?”

“Sort of,” Steve allowed. “But they're not just shopping for tech. They're also headhunting for the enhanced.”

At that, Wanda shifted slightly in her seat at the back, her attention fixed intently on the map. You noticed but quickly averted your eyes, focusing instead on the holographic display.

“Any idea who’s leading this faction?” Natasha asked.

“Not yet,” Steve said. “But Intel suggests they're planning something big, and soon.”

“So what’s the plan?” you tossed out.

Steve's eyes swept the room. “We intercept them before they can mobilize. It’s in the rural mountains of Cilo,” he pointed to a spot on the map of Turkey. “Barely any civilians, but we still play it clean—minimal casualties.”

“I'll prep the suits and run some satellite sweeps. Maybe we can get a clearer picture of their operations,” Tony declared, and without waiting for a dismissal, he headed for the door. Steve watched him leave, shaking his head with a mix of irritation and resignation.

“Roles, then,” Steve started, raising his voice just enough to reach the corners of the room—a small gathering today; Rhodes was with the U.S. president on a diplomatic trip in Asia, and Sam was aiding Sokovian refugees settling into their new homes.

“Natasha and Clint, you'll handle reconnaissance. Vision, you will join Tony for air support. I'll lead the ground team.”

“Who’s on the ground team?” you asked.

Steve held your look. “You, me, and Wanda.”

The pit of your stomach clenched. “Fantastic,” you muttered.

“Problem?” Steve challenged.

You quickly schooled your expression. “Nope.”

“Good,” he said firmly. “We roll out at dawn. Meeting’s over.”

As you headed toward the door, Natasha fell into step beside you. “You okay with this?” she asked quietly.

“Why wouldn't I be?” you replied, not meeting her eyes.

She gave you a knowing look. “I know what you’ve been doing. Pretending Wanda doesn't exist isn't going to work on a mission.”

You sighed. “I'll be professional.”

“See that you are,” she said. “For everyone's sake.”

—

The mission was set for the next day, and you were mentally running through strategies, trying to anticipate every possible outcome. What you hadn't expected was a knock on your door late in the evening, well after Steve's usual bedtime of 9 PM. 

Normally, you'd peer through the peephole to check who it was, but your mind was elsewhere—fixated on a particular restaurant in Istanbul you hoped to visit if there was any downtime after the raid. You'd never confess this to anyone, but you were a bit of a foodie. Sampling the best cuisine in each country your Avenger duties took you to had become a personal quest. 

Without thinking, you stood and walked over, opening the door to find Wanda standing there, her hands nervously clasped in front of her. You looked down at your feet, waiting. 

“I need your help,” she said. These were the first words she had ever spoken to you, and you didn’t know why you'd taken note of it.

You didn't glance up. “Don't recall offering it.”

She slipped inside without asking, the soft soles of her boots silent on the floor—a detail that annoyed you. “Steve said he wants minimal casualties, and my powers aren't exactly…gentle. I need to learn how to fight without relying on it too much.”

“So go ask someone else.”

“There's no one else available right now,” she murmured. “Natasha is out, and Steve thought it would be good if we—”

You cut her off, finally raising your head to look at her. “I'm not interested.”

Wanda scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself. I wouldn’t be coming to you if there’s—”

“Then maybe Vision can help you,” you suggested coldly. “He seems to have taken a liking to you. I'm sure he can dig up some martial arts videos for you.”

She bristled. “Why are you being like this?”

“Like what?”

“Like being civil is something that could actually make you sick.”

You met her gaze, unflinching. “I don't have time for this.”

Wanda inhaled sharply, and a strange energy coursed through your veins, the furniture in your bedroom shuddering as though caught in a miniature earthquake. But you held your position, unafraid.

“If you refuse to cooperate, I'll have to report back to Steve,” she warned. 

The threat was so feeble it almost made you laugh.  But you aimed to be more cruel than that.

“Go ahead,” you replied coolly. “Tell him I won't hold your hand.”

Wanda looked on the verge of an outburst. Good.

“Why are you being so difficult?”

You crossed your arms. “Why are you still standing at my door?”

Without another word, she closed her eyes briefly. Suddenly, you felt a subtle push against your thoughts—a whisper not your own. “Why do you hate me so much? We have to work together—”

You recoiled, anger flaring. “Get out of my head.”

“I was just trying to—”

“I don't care what you were trying to do,” you spat, getting in her face. “Don't ever do that again.”

She reeled back slightly. If it weren’t for the fact that she was a hundred times more powerful than you, you might have thought she was intimidated. But as you drew near, you saw it wasn't anger in her eyes, but hurt—a wounded response to your harsh dismissal.

After a few seconds, Wanda nodded. “I’m sorry. I won’t bother you again,” she said softly.

Just then, Clint appeared around the corner. You gave him a questioning look. He might have seemed like he was just passing by, but you weren’t deceived. Clint had no reason to be in this hallway at this hour. It seemed more likely he had been eavesdropping on the last part of your conversation and chose this moment to step in.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked lightly.

“I was just looking for someone to help me with hand-to-hand training,” Wanda explained, already backing away from your doorway.

“I’m the guy for that,” he replied. “Head to the training room, I'll join you shortly.”

“Thanks,” she said, casting a final glance your way before turning on her heel and striding away.

Clint turned to you the moment you two were alone. “Got a minute?”

“Not really,” you replied, though you stayed rooted in your spot.

He leaned against the wall beside your door. “What's going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Doesn't look like nothing,” he countered. “You're being pretty rude.”

You folded your arms. “She never apologized to the team.”

“And you think giving her the cold shoulder is going to fix that?” he asked. “Grow the fuck up, kid. Bullying the new recruit isn't doing any of us any favors.”

“She did some really awful things, Clint,” you reasoned. “She hasn't taken responsibility for that.”

He sighed. “And you've never screwed up? Never done something you regretted?”

“That's different.”

“Is it?” he challenged. “Because from where I'm standing, we all have our demons. You don't see the rest of us acting like we're better than anyone.”

You looked away. “You wouldn't understand.”

“Try me.”

“Wanda showed me more than just a bad dream,” you whispered. “I—” You started to spill the details of your nightmare but stopped, the fear of appearing vulnerable, of seeming weak and worthless like your mother always made you feel, silencing you. When it became apparent you wouldn't continue, Clint added, “Ever thought that maybe she's dealing with her own nightmares too?”

You glanced back at him. “Why do you care so much?”

“Because we're a team,” he said simply. “And teams look out for each other. Even when it's hard.”

“I don’t know if I can—”

“No one's asking you to be her best friend,” he said. “But at least be civil. Professional. The mission depends on it.”

You nodded, standing straighter. “I'll do my job.”

“Good,” he said, pushing off the wall. “That's all I'm asking.”

“Good night, Clint,” you muttered, heading back to your room.

“One more thing,” Clint called out just before you could close the door completely. “You’re right—she never apologized to the team. But she sure as hell apologized to you earlier.”

—

The Quinjet touched down just beyond the rocky outskirts of the small Turkish village, three miles from the fortified base the team was about to infiltrate. The rogue faction had been using it as a stronghold to store advanced weaponry and conduct illicit operations. You unbuckled your harness and stood, adjusting your gear as the rear hatch lowered to reveal the arid landscape bathed in the golden hues of early morning. 

Natasha caught your eye as she secured her gear. “Play nice,” she said, her voice low enough that only you could hear. 

You gave a noncommittal shrug in response.

She arched an eyebrow but didn't press the point. Instead, she adjusted the strap of her Widow's Bite and headed down the ramp.

Clint was perched near a cluster of boulders, bow ready. He didn't speak; he just shot you a pointed look and nodded slightly. You'd never felt more babysat than you did at that moment. Trying to make an effort to improve your working relationship with Wanda (at their behest), you headed toward her without a clear plan for the conversation. A pep talk maybe? You weren’t great at those, but you had absorbed enough from Steve to last several lifetimes.

But just as you were mere steps away from her, she breezed past without a glance in your direction, heading straight toward where Steve was waiting for Tony and Vision's signal to advance. It was as if you didn't exist.

Fair enough, you thought. Two could play at that game.

You tapped the side of your headgear, bringing up the HUD that F.R.I.D.A.Y had uploaded with the mission parameters. A translucent map overlaid your vision, highlighting your designated route through the village's eastern perimeter. Your task was to secure the potential exit points and ensure no targets slipped through once the operation commenced.

“All right, everyone, we’ve got clearance from the air team,” Steve's voice trembled over the comms. There was an unusual distortion in the signal, and you silently hoped it wouldn’t cause problems later. “Check in.”

“In position,” came the succinct reply from Natasha

“Ready on the western ridge,” Clint reported.

“Copy that,” Steve said. “Wanda and I will approach the main entrance from the south. Y/N, you take the north side. Secure any escape routes and watch for patrols.”

You pressed a finger to your earpiece. “Understood.”

“Keep comms open and stay sharp,” Steve added, and with that, everyone moved into position.

You moved into position, the rugged terrain providing ample cover. The north exit was a chokepoint—a narrow path bordered by steep cliffs. Perfect for an ambush, but also a potential death trap.

“All clear on my end,” you whispered into the comm.

“Strange,” Clint remarked.

“Same here,” Natasha agreed. “It's too quiet. I don’t like it.”

Your instincts prickled. 

Then, a faint vibration underfoot. You frowned, kneeling to touch the ground. The tremor grew stronger, rhythmic.

“Do you feel that?” you asked softly.

“Feel what?” Steve's voice came through.

Before you could respond, the ground shook violently. From hidden crevices and camouflaged tunnels, a swarm of hostiles erupted, pouring into the pass like a flood. Dozens—no, hundreds—armed to the teeth and moving with eerie coordination.

“Ambush!” you yelled, scrambling for cover.

“Hold your position—we're coming for you!” Steve roared. 

It should have assured you, but for the next few minutes, you were on your own. You took stock of your surroundings. The pass was narrow—a choke point. It was clear now that it’s a trap, and the enemy got lucky that a superpowered didn’t end up scouting this area.

You opened fire with your dual silencers, taking down several men with precise shots. But for every one you dropped, two more seemed to appear in his place. They weren’t just attacking—they were herding you, forcing you deeper into the pass where the escape routes grew fewer and fewer.

Sweat trickled down your temple as you struggled to hold them off. Your muscles ached, and your breaths came in ragged gasps. An unexpected blow struck your side, slamming you against the rocky wall.

Gritting your teeth, you pressed against the cliffside, muscles taut. Outnumbered and isolated, and not to mention trapped on a dangerous corner, survival seemed impossible.

“Come on,” you muttered to yourself. “Think.”

Just as the closest attacker lunged, a surge of energy hurled him backwards. Wind seemed to come in every direction as Wanda landed on her feet beside you, her eyes glowing red.

Relief washed over you. “Your timing is impeccable.” You hadn't expected that seeing Wanda would make you feel so incredibly safe, but it did. It really did.

She gave a faint smile, eyes scanning the swarm of hostiles regrouping ahead. “We need to find a way out of this trap,” she urged.

“Agreed,” you replied, reloading your weapon. 

The narrow pass had become a funnel, channeling them straight toward you. Rocks jutted out from the cliffside, creating pockets of shadow.

“We're pinned down,” you noted, pressing your back against the cold stone beside hers. The space was tight, forcing you closer together. You could feel the warmth radiating from her despite the cool mountain air. 

Wanda glanced upward. “We might be able to climb to that ledge,” she suggested, her breath brushing against your ear.

“Worth a shot. I'll boost you up.”

Wanda gave a small, amused smile. “You don't have to do that. I can get up there myself.”

It took a moment for the realization to hit you. Of course—her psionic abilities allowed her to levitate. That's how she'd reached you so quickly earlier; she'd flown. Heat rushed to your face as embarrassment set in. “Right,” you mumbled, feeling a bit foolish. “I forgot you could... you know...”

If Wanda picked up on your discomfort, she kept it to herself. “I can give you a lift if you want,” she offered.

You looked up at the ledge, then back at her. Swallowing your pride, you gave a curt nod. “Sure.”

“Okay,” she said softly. “Just relax.”

That was easier said than done, considering the enemies that surrounded you both. But even harder than that was the idea of letting Wanda use her powers on you, even if it was just to help you reach that damned ledge.

“Ready?” Her eyes combed yours, fishing for consent.

“Ready.”

Her hands came up, almost invisible in their movement. A warm fuzzy feeling wrapped around you, and the ground fell away as she floated you up, effortless as breathing.

“Almost there,” she murmured.

She steered you onto the ledge, and when your feet hit solid ground, you exhaled a breath you didn't know you were holding. “Thanks,” you tossed over your shoulder.

She smiled up at you. “Don’t mention it.”

She joined you shortly afterwards, landing gracefully beside you. The proximity was unavoidable on the narrow ledge, and you were acutely aware of how close you stood.

“Now what?”

Wanda leaned against the wall beside you, her shoulder brushing yours. “We need to find a way to contact the team.”

You checked your equipment. “Comms are jammed.”

She frowned. “They must have a dampening field.”

An explosion rocked the ground nearby, showering you with debris. “We can't stay like this here forever,” you muttered.

Wanda took a deep breath. “There is... something I can try.”

You glanced at her. “What is it?”

She swallowed hard. “I can get inside their heads—like I did before—to make them stand down.”

Like she did before in Johannesburg—to you, to the entire team in this mission sans Vision. You saw the fear in her eyes—the fear of your judgment, of repeating past mistakes. It struck you then how much she regretted what had happened between you.

Another burst of gunfire erupted, making you both flinch. There was no time.

You looked her in the eye and nodded. “Do it.”

Wanda wasted no time further. She got to work, her hands moving like a spider’s legs weaving its web. Looking down, you saw the men freeze mid-step. One by one, they dropped their weapons, eyes wide with unseen terror.

Unable to help yourself, you asked, “What are they seeing?” 

Wanda kept her eyes on her work, pointedly avoiding your gaze. “Their worst fears and deepest guilts. They’re confronting the nightmares that haunt them most.”

For a split-second, you felt sorry for these people.

“Let's move,” you said, placing a reassuring hand on Wanda’s shoulder.

—

Reaching higher ground, you and Wanda were finally able to reestablish communication with the rest of the team. From his position, Steve was quick to inform the local authorities about the perpetrators that Wanda had incapacitated with her powers, ensuring they remained trapped within their own mental constructs until help arrived. Meanwhile, Natasha and Clint were busy collecting crucial evidence from the scene, items they believed would be vital in piecing together a solid case against the previously concealed masterminds of the operation. As for Vision and Tony, they razed the base to the ground. 

Back at the Quinjet, you and Wanda took up positions to oversee and secure the extraction route.

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

She looked up, slightly surprised. “Y-You’re welcome.”

You shifted your weight, grimacing slightly at a bruise forming on your side. “Thought being a veteran would make this mission easier,” you mused, going over the jet’s controls to give yourself something to do while you both waited for the others. “Overestimated myself this time.”

Wanda nodded thoughtfully. 

Another period of silence stretched out, taut but not entirely uncomfortable. She seemed to wrestle with something before speaking again. “May I ask you a question?”

You hesitated, wary of where this might lead. “Sure.”

She took a slow breath. “Do you think... you might ever forgive me for what happened in Johannesburg?”

You exhaled slowly, eyes fixed on the distant peaks. “Deep down, I know it wasn't entirely your fault,” you began, “but sometimes it's easier to face your fears when you have someone else to blame for them.”

She absorbed your words quietly. “I understand,” she said softly. She thought about Tony. For the longest time, she blamed him for everything.

“Wanda, I—”

Before the conversation could continue, footsteps crunched on gravel behind you. The rest of the team was coming down the trail, and Natasha was the first to pick up on the fact that you and Wanda had been left alone together without any fireworks.

She walked up to you with a sly grin barely lifting the corners of her mouth. “Good work out there,” she said.

You rolled your eyes and drifted to a quieter corner, away from the team.

Wanda had saved you. That much was clear, and it meant you owed her your life—a debt that sat uneasily with you. You were grateful, of course, but the last thing you wanted was to owe anything to anyone.

Especially not to someone who terrified you to your core.

[slvttyharlow]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 REUNION

script. after you and jack finally get some time together, y’all make the best out of it.

ratings. minors and ageless blogs do not interact! | nsfw, fem! actress! reader, fluff, fingering ( reader rec ), some smutty flashbacks, p in v, oral ( m rec ), unprotected sex + a lil dirty talk. wc. 1.3k.

director's note. it's been so long since i dropped a fic but i finally got this done, hope y'all like it. i'm going to try to get more fics out!

masterlist 𐙚 previous fic 𐙚 taglist

To say you were excited was an understatement, Jack was finally coming home after being gone for so long, his tour ended and he was now free to come home and spend time with you.

The timing was perfect, as season one of the show you’re working on just ended and you get the much-needed break you deserved, what’s better than spending it with your man?

“How much longer til you get here?” you spoke into the phone once Jack answered the call. “No hello babe, how you doing… just skip to that huh?” he questioned as he let out a laugh. “Hi babe, how are you doing?” you respond as you roll your eyes. “I’m doing good.”

“I’m almost there about two hours away,” he continued and a huge smile broke out on your face. The two of you stayed on the phone for two minutes before exchanging goodbyes, you went on about your day, cleaning around the house to pass the time.

You hopped in the shower to freshen yourself up, taking out the new lingerie set you brought the other day for this moment, you knew Jack would love you in it.

You are snapped out of your thoughts as you hear a ping sound that comes from your phone. Once you pick it up and view what it says on the screen, you notice Jack sent you a message, immediately on your phone.

Jack: will be there soon, can’t wait to see your fine ass!

You felt your cheeks begin to heat as you started imagining how it would go once he was here, imagining how his hands would travel down your body to grip the swell of your ass as he laid hickeys all over your neck so he could let people know that you were only his to touch.

An idea pops into your mind as you want to get ready for when he would get there, you move aside the comforter, climb into bed, laying on your back as you spread your legs apart.

You wet two fingers with your saliva, using your other hand to move your panties to the side as you start circling your clit gently in circles while you think about the last time you and Jack were together, how he took real care of you.

Having you face down and ass up with the perfect arch he loves as he holds on to your hips while he fucks you into the mattress, nothing but your sweet moans and his groans filling the room. Soft moans spew out your mouth as you reminisce, so deep in thought that you don’t hear the door open.

“My my, look what we have here."

His voice sends shivers through your body, you freeze your movements at the sight of him leaning against the door frame, looking so handsome in his white tee and gray sweatpants.

"Oh don’t mind me, I'm just enjoying the view. this is a nice way to greet me," he adds as he makes his way towards you, capturing your lips with his once he gets close to you, grabbing the hand you had on your pussy gently moving it up to his face; breaking the kiss to lick your juices from your fingers, humming as he does so.

"I'm so happy you are finally here," you say, eyeing the bulge in his sweatpants heavily. "I forgot how good you taste,' he comments. "I can't wait any longer, I need you now."

You watch as he goes over to the window, opening up the nude curtains til he couldn't anymore before walking back to you; taking your hand once again, gently dragging you to your feet and he could see a bit of confusion mark on your face.

"I wanna fuck you right against the glass so everyone can see how good you take it," Jack states, with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, it would also get the guy living next door to back off what was his and his only.

He bends you over, your hands place on the window as he stands back a bit, admiring the swell of your ass. "I love this on you, baby." you smile at his compliment as you feel his fingers pull down your panties, letting it drop to the floor.

As soon as Jack pulls both his sweatpants and boxers off, he’s lining up his tip to your entrance; you grind against his it attempting to try to put it in yourself but he holds you in place. “Hmm, impatient are we?”

“Well of course, it’s been a long while, I need it now, please…” you whine, you hear a chuckle from him briefly before impaling your gummy walls; pushing his cock deep inside you, groans can be heard as his pelvis flushes against your ass.

“So fucking tight…” he groans, gripping your waist tight as he rocks his hips back and forth finding the pace he wants to start off in. You bite your lip, holding in the moan that wants to escape your throat.

“I missed feeling your warm gummy walls,” he begins. “I’m so happy that I’m the only one who gets to feel just how good your pussy is.” Your moans fill the room along with his, enjoying every moment of your reunion.

Your eyes are half closed as you focus on keeping your balance while you synchronize with his rhythm, your ass ricocheting against his pelvis.

“I can feel that you’re close, baby.” He says, as he lays a hard smack on your ass, rubbing and squeezing it afterwards. “I’m cumming…” you whine, releasing your orgasm, your juices drenching the floor and dripping down your leg while you let out a pornographic moan.

Jack watches as you get on your knees becoming eye level with his dick that's aching to get its release.

You swirl your tongue around his pinkish tip as you give his shaft a few pumps before parting your lips to take him into your mouth. Your saliva makes it easy enough for you to slide his whole length down your throat. You look up at him and see his brows knitted together as he lets out small moans making your cunt clench around nothing. 

You begin to move your head up and down his shaft, sucking in your cheeks to cause more friction against his throbbing cock.

Jack lets out a groan as he looks down at you, thinking of how pretty you looked as you continuously bobbled your head like a toy as you took his erect pulsating cock down your throat, occasionally the tip brushing past your gag reflex. 

Jack misses the feeling of your mouth on his cock, your mouth was like magic as you work your way up from his base to his tip, fondling his balls and all he can feel is pleasure as he let out groans while watching you.

“Keep going just like that...” he moans out, not taking his eyes off of you as you look up at him with tear-filled eyes as you hold your position, continuing bobbing your head up and down as drool makes its way down your chin.

You moan onto his member, you know how much he loves it when you do that. You feel his cock twitch inside your mouth, a common tell that he was about to come. You look up to see his eyes become half-lidded and you continue your relentless pace, massaging his balls once more.

Jack places his hand behind your head as he pushes you down more on his cock as a couple of praises leave his mouth as he feels the coil snap in his stomach as his thick white cum spurts in your mouth, hitting the back of your mouth.

You wait til he empties his whole load into your mouth before releasing his cock with a pop, lines of saliva dripping onto his cock.

Swallowing every last drop and sticking out your tongue to show him that you did. Jack looks down at you with admiration in his eyes. He wraps his hand around your throat gently, bringing you to your feet. “You’re amazing.” He praises before connecting his lips to yours, the kiss was sloppy and tender, both of you still yearning for more.

"Ready for round two?"

comment section. @itsyagirljaz, @j0hkiya @harlowarchives, @bernelflo, @iheartharlow + @jackmans-poison.

꒰ show has ended. — all rights reserved © harlowsthetic 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[cottonlemonade]

His Favorite Customer

word count: 1276 || avg. reading time: 5 mins.

pairing: post-time skip!Osamu x chubby!Reader

genre: angst ending in fluff

warnings: catcalling, spoilers

request: watching Goosebumps with some sweet’n’salty popcorn dressed as a traffic cone with Osamu || fluffy-angsty, Halloween Party with crush Osamu

Up until a few minutes ago you thought, the worst day of your life was when your now ex-boyfriend broke up with you in the middle of a supermarket. You still couldn‘t look at a can of peas without getting flashbacks. But when a car drove past you and splashed your costume which was already unfit for the cold to begin with, you were certain it couldn‘t get any worse than this. The friend who had invited you to the Halloween party left around the time you lost your last bit of sanity with some Dracula she just met, taking her car and thus your ride with her. When she called to apologize for leaving you behind, it was clear that you had become nothing but an afterthought, and even the promise of a free lunch the next day did nothing to lighten your mood or lessen the simmering feeling of abandonment. You shuddered in a cold breeze, goosebumps forming on your arms and legs. No taxi in sight and the street was filled with drunk partygoers howling and screaming - you just wanted to be home and wash this stupid night off you with the longest hottest shower known to man.

You ignored the notification about your dying battery and tapped around for the number of a taxi service or an Uber. But of course, just your luck, everyone you called was busy. If it wasn‘t so late and dark and cold and wet you might have considered walking. It wasn‘t too far away in the grand scheme of things - at least compared to other places like, say, China. But you stopped after only a couple of homeward steps. Being ever so helpful, your mom had recently sent you link after link to articles from various newspapers all warning people to not walk the streets alone after dark for a spike of crime during the costume season, finishing off the sinister spam with an obligatory kiss emoji. As you (very bravely) held back tears you scrolled through your contacts, trying to figure out which of them you wouldn‘t mind losing if you woke them up at 1 a.m. to pick you up from a random Halloween party somewhere in the outskirts of Kobe.

Halfway through the E‘s your phone finally shut down. Great.

You sniffled, slung your arms closer to your body for a bit of warmth, and started walking. Some convenience store might sell a charger or have a payphone at least, you told yourself.

Cars whooshed past, groups of friends staggered dangerously close to the road and the wetness from the earlier drive-by splash slowly seeped through the last layer of fabric. It truly couldn‘t get any worse. That was until a few minutes later when a handful of guys stumbled out of a bar in front of you, clearly very drunk. You braced yourself, holding tightly to the small purse you carried, and looked at the ground as you walked by them. Unfortunately, you weren‘t quite as invisible as you would have liked. You heard many sets of steps fall in behind you. Not wanting them to think you just assumed they meant any harm, you tried to steady your breathing but ever so slightly increased your pace. So did the steps behind you. You lengthened your stride again, making the men behind you laugh and call out, “What are you running from, little butterball?! There should be enough for all of us!“

Throwing caution to the wind you began to run, your eyes spotting the telltale sign of a convenience store like a shining beacon just up ahead. More laughter, wolf whistling, and something that sounded very much like someone running after you. Your heart pumped with adrenaline, your lungs were burning - when was the last time you ran anywhere but a short sprint to the bus? You couldn‘t keep this up for long, surely he would catch up with you any moment. You dared to look behind you but in your hurry couldn‘t spot the person following. Taking a deep breath you were ready to let out a scream when you bumped into something very solid.

Two strong hands steadied you by your shoulders and a familiar voice said, “Oh, sorry. - Hey, ya okay?“

You didn‘t care anymore and just held onto their puffy jacket, squeezing your eyes shut.

Whoever it was, put an arm around your shoulder and you heard him bark, “Keep walkin‘.“,

Ignoring the inappropriate comments that followed, you began to cry and a second arm came up to wrap around you.

“It‘s alright.“, he said calmly, “They‘re gone. Yer good.“

You sniffled again and looked up.

“O-samu?”, you hiccuped in between the syllables.

He looked around, then noticed your wet costume and pulled you into the warmth of the convenience store.

Once he ushered you to the seating area facing the shop window he shrugged off his jacket to put it around your shoulders. Then he excused himself for a moment and went to collect just about every hot food item the store had to offer from deliciously steaming ramen and sticky skewers to Chinese buns with different fillings, one savory, one sweet. His short absence allowed you to take deep breaths of his jacket collar. That warm, woody scent that had driven you crazy for months was just what you needed to calm down. The last couple of minutes already felt like they happened hours ago and you shuddered to think what would have happened if he hadn’t been there. You turned around in your chair and watched him consider the beverage shelf by the door, until he eventually shrugged and grabbed an armful of various flavors. Seeing him balance everything to the cash register and dumping it on the already teetering mountain of food made you smile, then chuckle which helped release some of the nervous energy still pent up in your body. You pulled the puffy parka closer to you, thinking about the many many times you had hoped the handsome store owner would ask you out. Often enough he had reciprocated a flirty comment that slipped out from you, making you question whether he meant it or if he just considered that good service. You surely would have enough opportunity to overthink later but right now you were just so very glad someone you knew was there to help. As you ate, you explained the situation between fewer and fewer sobs.

“No problem.”, he said, pinching off a piece from the steamed red bean bun, “I’ll take ya home.”

“Thank you so so much. I owe you.”

“Don’t even think about it. Least I can do for my favorite customer.”, he grinned and took another piece of bun.

“Bet you say that to everyone.”, you mumbled, then quickly blew on the noodles to cover the comment.

“Can’t believe ya think that low of me.”, he joked and shook his head in pretend sadness.

You pushed the half eaten bun over to him, “Peace offering?”

“Well, if ya insist.” He happily took a large bite and you laughed.

The car ride to your place was pleasantly quiet. You took the opportunity to take a couple more inconspicuous whiffs of his jacket before finally handing it back to him when you got out.

“Thank you again so so much. You’re a lifesaver.”

“No worries.”, Osamu hesitated for a moment, then added, “I meant it, ya know. Yer my favorite. I hope yer coming by tomorrow so I can make ya forget those jerks. Food’s on the house, of course.”

Your cheeks began to hurt from so much smiling.

“I’d love that. See you tomorrow.”

art: @Zing14268125 on Twitter

a/n: a request for @pinkmildliner

Thank you so much for the congratulations and the request! I hope you enjoyed it!

for requests see here

[punkshort]

i’m the anon who asked about the request! if you decide to do it, i’d absolutely wait forever😂 it’s very angsty tho, so the idea was for outbreak joel who doesn’t get the happy ending. reader who was head over heels in love coping with his death, maybe flashbacks to show the moments of reader seeing him die? idkidk the idea is very vague, sorry if it’s too sad!! if so maybe reader seeing him die was just a terrible nightmare & he’s there waking them up & helping them through a meltdown?

i’ve been craving for some emotional torture for wtv reason😭😭 thank you for even considering requests!🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

Thank you for this request! It's my first one, so I hope you enjoy it. Also, I had to take the out you gave me and make this a nightmare because I am a big ol' softie and I won't apologize for it, but I will apologize for taking so long to write it 😂

I hate when you're right

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: After a heated argument with Joel, you finally convince him into leaving Jackson so you could explore a store for new clothes, and what happens could change your life forever.

Warnings: major character (Joel) death - but it is just a nightmare - don't read if you think that will still upset you, angst, language, violence, descriptions of blood/gore/death scene

WC: 2.5K

dividers by the one and only @saradika-graphics

You knew it was childish. You knew it wasn't essential. But you also desperately wanted to feel more comfortable, and was that really such a crime? To want to feel like yourself again? To want to wear clothes that you liked? That fit you properly? Jackson was well stocked with essentials, clothes included, but the clothes the men picked up on patrol were... utilitarian, to say the least. They grabbed the biggest and the warmest clothes so that it afforded more people the opportunity to use them, but you were beginning to grow tired of tucking men's oversized shirts into your pants, the material bunching up at your waist and twisting around as you walked, constantly trying and failing to feel comfortable in your own skin.

You thought Joel would be more open to the idea of heading outside the walls on your day off. You even teased him with the promise of picking up some new underwear, but he didn't fall for it. He fought you tooth and nail the whole evening, his voice lifting over yours angrily to explain how there's been an influx of raiders the past few weeks, that everyone agreed to lay low until they passed through, not wanting to draw attention or pick any unwanted fights. But you persisted. You always did, and you eventually wore him down when you threatened to leave without him.

Why was it such a crime to want to feel comfortable? It was just two people, you could lay low and go unseen, no problem. You've done it countless times before.

You had hoped he would have gotten over it by morning, but you were wrong. He hardly made eye contact with you during breakfast, skirting expertly around you in your kitchen, mumbling under his breath as he sipped his coffee and only shooting you angry looks when your back was turned.

The air was crisp and the woods were peaceful. You thought that would surely turn his mood around. He always appreciated being out with nature, living off the land. As much as he loved living in Jackson, he couldn't deny that part of himself that felt useful, that felt a sense of accomplishment by surviving out in the wild.

"C'mon, are you really gonna act like this all day?" you teased as you held up another shirt against your body before determining it was the right size and then tossed it in a pile with the others.

He was standing at the storefront window with his arms crossed and his jaw clenched. "Don't know what you mean."

You rolled your eyes and looked around the store, spotting a table of underwear with a grin. You lightly skipped over and tossed to the side the pairs that looked far too dusty so you could look at the ones underneath. Clearing your throat, you held up a pair of bright red stain underwear. He turned around and you saw it: it was fast, he hid it well, but you still saw it. That all too familiar excited look in his eye.

"Don't you like them?" you asked with a playful pout. He furrowed his brow at you like he was annoyed, and maybe he was, but you still saw the heat beginning to crawl up his neck.

"They ain't practical."

You gave him a defeated sigh and strolled over to your pile of clothes, your fingertips daintily holding the undergarment out to him. "No? Then what are they?"

His eyes shifted from yours to the red material in your hand and you saw his throat work as he swallowed.

"Useless," he croaked, and you narrowed your eyes at him. You got a little closer, letting the soft fabric glide against the back of his hand when you dropped your arm to your side.

"Oh, yeah?" you said breathily, and you watched his eyelids flutter at your tone. "Then I guess it wouldn't matter if I brought them home and let you rip them off me."

He stepped forward, a growl emitting from his chest, low and deep, when at the exact same time, you both heard shouting outside the store. Swiveling both your heads towards the glass storefront, your blood ran cold when you saw six heavily armed men advancing towards you.

"Shit," he muttered, his arm pulling your shoulder down just in time to avoid the cascade of bullets that rained down upon you. You laid face down on the rough carpet, covering the back of your head with your eyes squeezed shut, waiting for the shooting to stop. Joel tugged on your arm and you opened your eyes in a panic.

"Follow me!" he shouted, army crawling towards the registers, and you dutifully followed behind, your heart racing wildly in your chest.

Once you made it, the counter offering some, but not much, safety, the both of you pulled out your guns and double checked your ammo.

"Alright, when they stop to reload-"

"I know," you said, cutting him off. You've both been in this situation before. You knew what to do.

Holding your rifle upright and against your chest, you breathed deep, trying to steady your hands until the bullets slowed and you heard more shouting. Joel nodded to you and you both sprung up from the floor, pulling your rifles against your bodies in sync and lining up your targets.

Patience is a virtue. The amount of ammunition they wasted on the two of you was laughable when you each caught one of them between the eyes, leaving four against two.

You thought you would be able to get another shot off but Joel tugged your arm and you slinked back to the floor as a shower of bullets rained over you once again.

"You good?" he asked, and you nodded, gasping for air. Your hands began to stabilize when the shock wore off. You were in the zone.

Pressing both your backs against the small counter, you remained calm and waited out your attackers. Glass shards tinkled and scattered behind you. Bullets pinged against the metal shelving, ricocheting into the drywall.

"Assault rifles for two people? Really?" you muttered, more so to yourself, but Joel heard you.

"Told you this was a bad fuckin' idea," he said angrily.

When there was another brief pause, he looked to you again and nodded. At the same time, you rose up and took aim, firing on your attackers once again. Joel made his shot, you didn't. Three down, three to go.

"Fuck," you grumbled, reloading your rifle even though you still had rounds left.

"Focus," he scolded.

The men sounded like they were getting closer. Their voices were louder. Clearer. The shots were deafening. You prayed they weren't inside the store, because you hadn't planned an exit strategy. Without warning, Joel stood up and fired a shot. You heard a man scream and then a loud thud. It sounded like the man was just on the other side of the counter.

"That's not the plan," you seethed at him when he dropped back down next to you.

"Didn't have a choice, he was 'bout to jump us," he sneered.

Two against two.

When the shots slowed down, you held your breath, looking at Joel from the corner of your eye. He held his palm up to you silently, signaling for you to stay where you were. You heard boots crunching slowly against glass and your heart leapt into your throat. They were in the store.

You shot Joel a panicked look but he just shook his head, focusing on their footsteps, calculating how far away they were.

"Come out now and no one gets hurt," a man's deep voice called out. He was close.

Joel clenched his jaw and flared his nostrils. You knew that look. It was the look of a man who was about to do something stupid. But before you could stop him, before you could reach out to him and hold him back, he stood up and took aim.

One shot. That was all you heard when Joel slumped to the floor next to you, clutching his stomach as dark red blood poured from the wound. Your eyes went wide and you saw red. Without thinking, you stood up and shot, taking one of the two men down with a yelp. The remaining raider ducked behind a display, and you dropped your rifle in favor of your handgun. Crouching low to the ground, you inched forward, careful of any broken glass that would give your position away. When you were on the other side of the display, you heard the man's labored breaths. He was scared. He was out of his element. And you had him right where you wanted him.

Silently tucking the gun in the back of your pants, you slid your hunting knife out from your ankle holster. You took a deep breath and lunged forward, driving the knife deep into the man's chest.

He dropped his gun and clutched weakly at your hands, but it was no use. His blood poured from the wound when you yanked your knife out with a grunt, and you watched as his hands slowly slid back down to his sides, his eyes still wide open and staring up at the ceiling.

You smirked, feeling victorious for only a moment before you remembered Joel. Dropping your knife, you rushed back to his side, only to find his face pale and his hands stained dark red.

"Joel!" you cried out, pressing your palms against the wound, hoping to slow the bleeding. His eyes drifted towards you, softening when he saw you were alive and unharmed. That you were going to make it.

Panic consumed you. Your heart was slamming against your ribs as you fumbled with your backpack, trying to find your first aid kit through the tears.

"I love you," he whispered, and you shook your head.

"Don't start with that, you're gonna be fine."

"Baby," he said weakly, and you choked back a sob.

"Hold on," you told him, still searching in your pack.

"Look at me," he said, and your hands stilled for a moment before you dragged your eyes back to him, your lower lip trembling as you took in his deteriorating state.

"I need to-" you began, but stopped to take in a shaky breath. "I need to patch you up and get you to the horses."

"No, you don't," he said softly, and more tears spilled from your eyes.

"Yes, I do. I gotta-"

"I ain't gonna make it, sweetheart," he slurred, and you could see by the amount of blood he was losing that he was right. But still, you pressed your palms against the gunshot wound, your fingers slipping through his thick and sticky blood.

"Don't say that. I can't do this without you," you whimpered, and closed your eyes for a brief moment. You felt his fingertips weakly grip your chin and you forced your eyes back open.

"Yes, you can," he said as firmly as he could. He was so pale and weak and it was making your stomach turn.

You shook your head, about to argue with him, but he stopped you.

"You keep goin', you hear me?" he said, and still, you shook your head from side to side, small sobs slipping past your lips. "Don't let this world win. You... go on and keep fightin'. Please. Be happy, baby. For me."

"No!" you cried out, spittle dripping from your lips now, mixing with your tears. "I won't! I-I can't!"

"You can," he repeated, and gave you a weak smile. "I'm ready, baby. It'll be okay."

You squeezed your eyes shut tight, the tears leaking out, hot and angry on your cheeks as you sobbed over him, clutching his hand in yours so tightly, like if you squeezed hard enough, you could give him your lifeforce. Give him your breath. But moments later, his grip weakened and when you opened your eyes, his head slumped to the side and his lifeless eyes stared off into the distance.

"Joel!" you screamed, sitting up in bed, drenched in sweat with tears still streaming down your face. You looked to your side, where he normally slept, but he wasn't there. Panic squeezed your throat, your chest fucking hurt, but you flung the blankets off you and ran towards the door. Still not hearing any sounds, you raced down the stairs, almost tripping in the process but you had a grip on the railing to keep you steady.

When your eyes finally landed on his familiar form stretched out on the couch, his back to you, you allowed yourself to breathe a sigh of relief.

Reality came back to you now. You had your fight about leaving Jackson, but he won and you slept apart. You never left. He never got shot. It was all just a horrible dream.

You stumbled over to the couch, your tears unstoppable, the nightmare too vivid, too real. Your trembling hands clutched his shoulder as you fell to your knees on the floor, shaking him awake.

"What?" he grumbled, clearly still pissed off about your fight.

"I'm sorry!" you sobbed loudly, and when he realized something was wrong, he whipped around to face you.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice still thick with sleep.

"I-I had-" you began, then you hiccupped, cutting yourself off. His face was etched with concern as he forced himself up and cupped your face.

"C'mon, talk to me," he urged, the fear in his eyes reflecting back to you as you looked at him, still not sure what was real and what wasn't.

"I had a nightmare," you finally managed to get out. "About our fight. That we... we went out like I wanted and-and-" you collapsed into another fit of sobs, your shoulders shaking violently.

"Hey, it's alright," he soothed, pulling you up and into his lap and rubbing your back. You pressed your tear stained face into his neck, inhaling deeply, grounding yourself. He was alive. He was here. Everything was fine.

"I'm sorry," you whimpered, your throat still tight but your tears were slowing down. "I'm sorry we fought. I don't wanna go out anymore. I don't need new clothes, it was stupid, I'm sorry."

"Shh, it's okay," he said, pulling you tightly against his chest, "I'm sorry we fought, too. I just wanna keep us safe."

"I know, you're right," you said, pulling back a bit and wiping your nose with the back of your hand. "Will you come back to bed?"

"Yeah," he replied with half a smirk. "'Course I'll come back to bed, baby. Don't cry, it's alright."

You let him lead you up the stairs and to your bedroom, your side of the bed still damp with sweat but it didn't bother you. Joel was safe and sound and in your arms and you didn't care if you had to wear a potato sack for the rest of your life, as long as you had Joel, nothing else mattered.

follow @punkshort-notifs and turn on notifications for fic updates ❤️

[casscainmainly]

Gender/Sexuality in Batgirl (2000): Part 2

@dailycass-cain asked some great questions on my other post, which I'm gonna answer here to the best of my ability. Also if you're reading this, I love your blog, your reading list is how I got into Cass in the first place!!!

This post covers issue #50 onwards (end of Horrocks into Gabrych's run).

World's Okayest Father

I'll start with Cass' warped thoughts on Bruce, which occurs in issue #50. Cass has just gotten fired, but chooses to go out anyway and Bruce confronts her. The issue opens with a flashback:

Cass and David Cain spar, Cain slaps her, she kisses him, and they continue to fight. Here, the kiss represents intimacy, something which Cain (judging by his disgusted facial expression) dislikes and represses. Cass, however, clearly wants intimacy with her father - this isn't romantic, rather a desire (as I said in my other post) to be wanted/needed/loved.

Back in present day, Cass and Bruce start fighting and this happens:

In the context of the opening flashback, her attempt to kiss him is a broader desire for intimacy, rather than a romantic desire. Importantly, both here and above the intimacy is mingled with violence - Cass struggles to distinguish between the intimacy of a fight and the intimacy of a familial relationship.

Just including this here because I love these two so much and this is the SECOND time she beats him up. As I mentioned before, Dick seems to represent patriarchy to Cass, so her beating him up here is another repudiation of typical feminine roles. This is exemplified by her costume: not her usual more androgynous full-face mask, but not Barbara's Batgirl either. She's beginning to sort out how she feels about her gender without conforming to feminine standards.

Then these iconic scenes. Here, she explicitly distinguishes between positive intimacy ("he never let me touch him... hold him...") and negative intimacy ("just fighting... and hurting..."). This is a major development from both the flashback and her attempt to kiss Bruce earlier. Just as Conner was essential to Cass separating romance from friendship, Bruce is essential to Cass understanding the difference between romance and familial love, between violence and tenderness. So while Cass' attempts to kiss Bruce is a little weird, it makes sense in the context of Cass figuring out the intricacies of relationships.

Bruce asks her where her loyalty lies: him, David Cain, or Barbara. Remembering the Soul panel (where Cass hallucinated Bruce telling her to stop being sexual and Babs telling her to go out and date boys), Bruce and David Cain represent sexual/gendered repression, while Barbara represents traditional femininity. By passing over them in favour of the gender-neutral Bat symbol, Cass is sort of asserting her new understanding of her gender, one that rebels against Bruce's disapproval and Babs' conventionality.

The Poison Ivy Parable

So I did just skip the Poison Ivy arc in my last post, but dailycass-cain is completely right in that it's integral to Cass' understanding of gender and sexuality.

Cass is a lot more assertive with her gender in this arc. She puts on a dress, quotes gendered reality TV ("you bet your cutie patootie, baby!") and says the above when a man expresses interest in her. Unlike her initial feelings about Conner's advances, she's more comfortable with being perceived as a woman, and doesn't let Bruce scold her. She's messing with him here - her sexuality isn't under his control anymore.

Poison Ivy makes a garden that lowers inhibitions, and Cass nearly kisses this guy named Chris (the designer of the garden). However, Cass snaps out of it to go to "work," defeating Poison Ivy.

Cass' choice to "work" instead of kissing Chris could be read as a repression of her sexuality once again, but I think it's different. Cass doesn't get told to stop kissing him; she makes the choice herself. Bruce alludes to this by saying "looks like you've got things under control" (emphasis added). Cass' sexuality and gender have been controlled for so long, whether by David Cain, Bruce, Babs, drugs like Soul, or gardens like Poison Ivy's. By breaking free of the garden's effects, Cass asserts control over her body.

The Stephanie Brown Story

As mentioned in Part 1, Stephanie essentially kickstarted Cass' desire to understand her gender/sexuality. However, she 'dies' in War Games, leaving Cass devastated. There's a noticeable difference in how assertive she was in her gender in the Poison Ivy arc, and her attitude at the beginning of Gabrych's run:

She questions whether she is "the fairy godmother" or "Prince Charming," a feminine or a masculine role. Following from Horrocks' run, she's aware there's options beyond these prescriptive roles ("is this a.... whole new story?"). But unlike Cass' certainty in the Poison Ivy arc, she frames these thoughts now in questions. Stephanie's death seems to have shaken some core part of herself.

This section is very reminiscent of Cass' conversation with Stephanie that started the whole journey, except here Cass is comparing herself to Tim. Interestingly, where in the original conversation Cass says she's never had a "kiss," not specifying the gender of who she'd kiss, here Cass sticks to heterosexuality: "I've never even had a... boyfriend". There's a sense of regression, of having to start her journey all over again:

In many ways Cass' grief over Stephanie's death forces her to re-evaluate her thoughts on love, gender, and agency.

Eventually, Cass nearly drowns and hallucinates Stephanie in the water. This is the antithesis of the Soul hallucinations: where the imagined people there (which interestingly did not include Spoiler) harassed her with patriarchal demands, Stephanie is encouraging and kind. She tells Cass to do "what you taught me to do;" Cass taught Stephanie to fight, but Stephanie taught Cass the value of female relationships, to fight for a life worth living.

Right after this scene, Cass goes to Brenda's café, begins looking for her mother, and reaches out to the female police officer. Stephanie kickstarts another round of self-development for Cass, this time in the direction of forging female relationships for herself.

Connection

Throughout the rest of Gabrych's run, Cass forms connections with Brenda, Onyx, and Zero, as dailycass-cain mentions. Brenda seems to be a surrogate Stephanie and Barbara - she's sort of a parental figure, feeding Cass and giving advice, but she's also a friend, inviting Cass to parties. We get this iconic outfit:

It's somewhat gendered (with the skirt and the shirt), but it's distinctive and different from the normal dress she wore at the end of Horrocks' run. She's learning to express herself more, and because Brenda is less parental than Babs, she doesn't have the same need to make Cass 'normal'.

Zero is honestly a bit weird, in this analysis as well as in the story itself. I think it's part of Cass finding connections with civilians in Blud, and I actually don't think it's similar to Conner. With Conner, it was very rushed; with Zero, there's clear build-up, and Cass genuinely seems to enjoy herself.

Cass and Zero kiss, and Cass thinks "my skin feels... alive. Where his arms were. His lips." Was it love? Probably not, but it was a cute moment for Cass, and I think she enjoyed the excitement/novelty more than anything (in that case it is similar to Kon).

This leads into Cass' thoughts about her conception, and whether David Cain and Shiva were in love. There's a neat flip here - where in Horrocks' run Cass was puzzled about her own feelings, here she's questioning other people's. She's definitely grown in her capacity to understand herself and her gender:

She now has the language to identity herself ("a girl") and the way it makes her feel ("awful"). In contrast to her initial confrontation with the male gaze (Conner), she's more secure, beating people up and leaving the bar (sharp contrast to being stuck on that vacation boat).

There's other stuff besides this, like the brief encounter with Rose, the make-up with Babs, Onyx, Shiva etc. but I'll end it here. Again, there's a lot more to be explored but honestly Gabrych had more stuff than I initially though.

Hope this answered at least part of your questions dailycass-cain, and thank you for ALL you've done for the Cass Cain community!!

[hhighkey]

Taken // Uvogin, one shot - part of hhighkey’s phantom troupe universe series

Rating: mature Story Contains: Stockholm syndrome, implied past kidnapping, reader kidnapped by stalker!hunter, attempted force marriage, attempted sa, violence, injuries, murder, I mean phantom troupe, time skips and flashbacks, unprotected sex, uvo is a manhandler, size kink, emotional reunions, nobu may be ooc, female reader Note: this mayyy be 14k words, edited for grammar, ao3 link: xxx , link for part 2

It was a night like any other whilst Uvogin was away on Troupe business. You were left to your own devices as your body slowly healed. Sensitive lungs and throat from all the coughing, chest weak with each breath- even going from one room to the next pushed your limits. But you still insisted that Uvogin needed to begin partaking in Troupe business again, that you'd still be alive when he'd return. No need for his excessive worrying. 

Your fingers graced gingerly along the dimly lit screen on your lap. Curled up on your bed with a multitude of plush blankets atop, stuffed animals at your side, a glass of water on the side table. This was contentment. Peace and quiet, not that you didn't miss Uvogin's loudness as he stomped around the apartment. It feels empty when he's gone and normally you'd count down the hours till his return, but this was your first night without him in months. Your overly clingy brute of a boyfriend, once former captor, that owned your body and soul. The man you gave your love to. 

The sound of an unlocking door was amiss to you. You were lost in your own world of the words on the screen that you don't hear the creaking floor boards as a multitude of footsteps creep about. Hushed whispers as weapons were drawn, all before the door to your room burst open. 

"Wha-" You shriek at the men storming into the room, tumbling out of bed as your head hit the wall. 

Backing into the corner, a man with curly blonde hair strides from the sea of darkly cloaked men. 

"W-Who are you?" You were shaking, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. Practically able to feel your heart hammering out your chest, "Please don't hurt me," 

"We won't hurt you. We're with the Hunter Association, you know what that is correct?" The man began to approach you like you were a scared animal cornered in the wild. 

You nod hesitantly, but a twisted sense of safety comes over you until you remember that Uvogin and the others were criminals. 

"I understand you've been held here by a member of the Phantom Troupe?"

"I live here with my boyfriend." 

"How sad." The man stepped closer so much you could feel his breath- he grasped your wrist like you were nothing but a rag doll. Dragging you from the corner, making you stumble over your feet to the floor. Crying out in pain your knees burned from the contact, palms skidding as you were dragged right back up. 

"Leave me! I want to stay!" You pleaded. 

His eyes darkened, as he manhandled you, hand firm on your jaw forcing you to look at him. Yet his grasp was harsh and unflinching, a coldness shivered through you as your gazes connected, "I'm here to rescue you from that beast."

"I don't need to be rescued," You said meekly, a single tear running down your cheek.

Your body hurts. Lungs taut as if each breath was like intaking sandpaper against the meek organs you once needed medicine to keep alive. 

Looking around you let out a heavy sigh. Forced to settle into yet another room they've tossed you in, like a show pony for a revolving door of visitors. Poking and prodding at you. Talking down at you like you're a child— reprimanding each time you insist you love Uvogin, as if you couldn't possibly have genuine feelings. They'd get frustrated, throw things as you beg to be returned to the apartment you once resided. It confused you— why the head Hunter, Bates, who'd carried you out of your home cares so much, you've never met him! 

How long has it been? Maybe a month you assumed from the glimpses of changed calendars you caught sight of. But your senses were dulled at this point, from constant moving and drugs forced into your system to keep you pliant. They keep you confused about your location as they thrust you from each hiding spot to keep going forward. 

But you were fully awake now though, on alert with the knots in your stomach wound tightly. Staring at the same cream walls with crude art for the last two days, the books at your table side ones you have no interest in. You're thankful to have a window in what you imagine is a small fortress of a house. The air is too cold for you, for months Machi insisted you needed warmth and no fresh air, your lungs couldn't handle it. So you think you're relapsing somewhat as you feel your stomach grumbling. 

Food comes at the same hours of the day. A random Hunter sets it down with an emphatic smile and locks you in the room once more. But this time, lunch isn't dropped off for you to be left to your own devices. Because someone else is walking through the door frame that leaves you with a bad feeling in your gut screaming at you to run. 

It's him. Your throat went dry, a lump forming as you attempted to speak, to argue for him to leave. The sound of the door slamming behind as he walks over with a plate in hand, makes you flinch. 

"Morning," Bates smiled, an empty grin that sent a chill down your spine. You hadn't seen him since he'd taken you from Uvogin, though as his eyes bore into you, you know they've been on you. 

You only nod, shuffling further back on your bed until you've grabbed the blankets to your front like a shield. You're up against the wall at the head of your bed, sitting upon plush pillows with dilated pupils carefully watching him approach. 

He's too close for your liking. And every inch of you freezes as Bates reaches out to rub his thumb along your cheek, and when you shy away, he frowns, "why do you fear me? Fight us trying to help you?"

"I didn't need help," you murmur, voice gravelly from the lack of using it. 

"It's sad, really." Bates sets down the plate of food on your side table, then pulls a chair over from the small table in the corner. It dragged, loud and destitute to your ears as you scowled, "why'd you have to give in?You can't really love him can you?"

"I do." You want to put up more of a fight but your hoarse voice and dimmed eyes do you nothing. Your response reeks of pity. 

"All the therapists from the Hunter's Association I've brought in for you- why don't they help? Why do they keep telling me they think your feelings are real? It's only Stockholm syndrome, you know."

"You don't know anything." you snap. 

"I don't?" he responds condescendingly. 

And he doesn't. 

Your mind goes rampant with memories you've shared with Uvogin, the only thing keeping you sane. Just daydreaming about how he cares for you with that shit eating grin, how you watch ridiculous reality tv together after a cooking fail. How since falling ill he never left your side- staying up with you through bloodied coughing fits, rubbing your back as you finally drift off to sleep. You miss his calloused, large, thick fingers prodding at your soft skin. You miss his gargantuan body compared to yours and how he envelopes your entirety. And you all but shudder thinking how you miss his giant cock filling you whole, turning you into nothing but a babbling, overstimulated mess. Now you're left falling asleep to his phantom touches praying you'd dream of him— that you'd awake to him saving you. 

"If he can take you and have you fall for him, then the same can happen for me. For us."

Your eyes widen, as dread whooshes through your body, "What are you talking about?" you sniffle, knuckles turning white from your involuntarily tightening grip on the blanket. 

"I'm going to marry you." 

"You don't know me.." 

Bates lets out a heavy sigh as he begins a monologue that seems to make matters even more real for you, "me and my men, we're not stupid. Five years ago we were formed to take down the Phantom Troupe, spending our lives training to amount to their skill. But to run in blind? Never. Three years now, we've followed them, learning all we can without them finding out. Shouldn't that show you why they haven't found us yet? We've outsmarted them, and you'll never see the monster that took you. That I can protect you."

"What.." 

"I had just started working as a Hunter with our group, on my second month tailing Uvogin when he took you. I was surprised that I hadn't known about you in my time watching. I felt as if I failed you, we should have been able to be more proactive to keep you from him. You're beautiful Y/N, so small and ethereal, kind and loving, and too good for that beast. He took you from all you know and love, I'll gladly bring you home to your family as your husband and make sure you keep the freedoms you once lost."

His words shake your core. "Y-you're insane." is all you manage to mutter out, "you've stripped me of my freedoms when you took me."

"This is all to keep you safe. Just give it more time, yeah?"

"No.."

"But isn't this what he did with you? Locked you away and now you gladly spread your legs for him?" Bates spat bitterly. 

"No, it's different." Maybe it wasn't. And that makes your chest tighten even more as you recount your first few days, to weeks to months with Uvogin. How scared you'd been while he was nothing but accommodating, gentle— patient. How he'd buy everything you loved from ice cream to books, desperately trying to gain your attention. But you enjoyed his humor, his roughness that made you find comfort in him. You're one who doesn't need human contact, you had no issue spending months in a room with no one but your books. And you did that for a while. Until, you found yourself enjoying his company. Uvogin's stupid commentary on movies or intrigue about your books, begging you to read to him. He gave you your space, let you do all your own cooking and tasks. Even let you out once in a while as long as you stayed by his side. Uvogin was different from the others with those they'd taken- he let you keep yourself- you. You remind yourself you love him, that it's genuine, especially based on the multitude of reactions from recent professionals coming by. Nothing had ever been forced between you and Uvogin after he'd taken you, which you battered him for occasionally, that he could have whisked you away in a more natural sense of things—

"It's not!" His anger from your sudden silence makes you jump. You hadn't realized minutes had gone by that he watched your frozen face with eyes seemingly miles away. "You're thinking about him."

"Let me go. Why risk all your lives for me? You know what's going to happen." You wanted to put on a brave face, trying to reason with him that the reality of this was bad. 

"Because I love you." 

Your mouth suddenly had a sour taste in it as your tongue licked along the backs of your front teeth. Holding your tongue you feel dejected, looking down, "Then let me go."

Bates's skin on yours felt wrong. You felt gross as his fingers danced along your skin, the wall behind you not letting you escape. With a knee on the bed, he's leaning over to you too fast for you to respond. His eyes hold nothing but disdain, a sickness that not even members of the Phantom Troupe hold. Or maybe you view them with rose colored glasses at this point as they're the ones Uvogin lets you around the most. But these Hunters, you hate them. 

"Get out." You try to say with as much strength as you can muster. Trying to make yourself appear angry, scary. 

He sighs, "No, not until-" and he kisses you all sloppy and wet. Trying to force his tongue into your mouth as you clamp your lips tight as possible, pushing against him, kicking at him. You're on fire as he tries to push forward, licking and nibbling along your bottom lip with grunts, unpleased grounds. He was stronger and tried to grasp parts of your body, tried to pull at your nightgown and you're suddenly able to pull yourself together. The adrenaline that courses through you allows you to kick him as hard as possible in the gut, the wind stolen right from his lungs as he stumbled back. Piercing eyes meet your gaze and as Bates struggles to breathe, he's back on you. 

Hand on your neck, fingers squeezing so the corners of your vision begin to blacken, throat wheezing for air. Your eyes spasm as you see a nasty grin go across the Hunter's face until— he lets go, suddenly, backing away. Like a switch was flipped he looked as if he was in despair,

"I- Y/N, I'm sorry." what the fuck, "I promise you this," His eyes narrowed, "I won't touch you until our wedding night."

And he spun on his heels, stopping only because you called out to him, "Hey! When.. When will we marry?"

"Hm, it takes a bit to plan a wedding and we need time to get further from the Troupe. Few months." He said it so casually, you hated it. 

You were breathing hard as he left. Your hair clung to your face and neck as sweat moistened your skin. Finally relaxed from the sound of the door locking from the other side. But you were far from safe. 

It was hard to focus. All you can do is think. Not caring for the food sitting just a foot away, your hunger is gone anyways. You feel invaded and hurt. Confused. Your mind is racing from the news you've received, at the worst case scenarios of it all. Imagining walking down the aisle to a man you don't love shakes you to the core, has you slumped over with half lidded eyes staring down. You'd anxiously bitten and torn your nails until they bled, your fingers looked ugly, you thought as you peered at them.  

You're tired, oh so tired. Your body needs the sleep that it's blatantly screaming for as it shuts down. The lack of sleep was getting to you as you worried your body is giving into your illness you worked so hard to rid of. You don't count the drugs they pump into you as a form of sleep. So when you're awake, you're vigilant and scared so you're forcing yourself to stay up until you can't any longer. The hairs stood tall on the back of your neck with nerves swarming in your stomach. 

Funny, maybe you're even flattered that two men have gone out their way to stalk you, to learn all about you to fall in love. To even kidnap you. But it was such a stark difference between Uvogin and Bates, at least in your mind.

Or is your mind playing tricks on you? The air that leaves your lips feels thick, your heart plummeting. No. It's different. It has to be. Because you're going cold, palms clammy as you're running through memory after memory. You hadn't doubted your feelings for Uvogin or the situation in years, not since the first time you told him you loved him— When you were 21, Uvogin took you when you were 20.

As you eventually give into sleep, you were left wondering when Uvogin or another Spider was going to come traipsing through the door. To take you back to the life you were beginning to mourn for.

-

Uvogin hit rewind once more; watching the video footage for the nth time with brows furrowed, and a silent rage evident through tensed muscles. Over and over Shalnark told him to quit how harshly he jabbed down on the mouse and keyboard alike, that he'd break them. But all Uvogin cared for were the figures on the dimmed screens. The ones clad in uniform that whisked you away. 

You begged them to leave you. Begged them not to touch you, that you were confused and scared of them bursting in. How you pushed them away shrinking into the corner of your shared room. The fear sparkling in your eyes evident even from the camera and it twists his chest tight, makes the air thick as if he's losing the will to breathe. The hairs of his skin stand tall, limbs shuddering in vexation that could not be calmed. 

How dare they. He'd kill every last one of them, let their blood stain the ground as their heads would ooze brain matter.

You were still recovering from a months-long battle with an illness that had you both nervous for your health. You needed your sleep, food even if you couldn't keep it down, and certainly no stress— in hindsight Uvogin knew he shouldn't have left for this job, Chrollo told him you came first but you were on the up! It was only supposed to be a few days! And now these mystery figures- he assumes Hunters- have taken you from him. 

And hours turned into days. Days that Shalnark, somehow, couldn't find you. Nobunaga had no leads from acquaintances of his. Others ranging from Feitan to Phinks to even Chrollo pitched in, but nothing. 

Which then turned into weeks. 

Fucking weeks that brewed a hatred— something worse than anger, or rage inside of Uvogin. 

The idea of a group of Hunters competent enough to outwit them, stay from their unending wave of influence— left unease in the air. Chrollo's priority shifted from treasure hunting to tracking the group. Day in, day out. All attention on the matter. As the Phantom Troupe was to be feared, to be untouchable from their heists to massacres.

"Uvo."

What date was it? Time mixed. He can't keep it straight. Another day that Uvogin sits in front of the damned computer watching the footage, his only way to keep your voice fresh in his mind. 

"Uvogin."

"What." He snapped. 

Nobunaga stood with sword at his side, clearly worried for his fellow Troupe member- and friend, "Ready to head out? Heard some rumblings from some acquaintances who are fighting their way up Heavens Arena. Figured we'd go."

And he's jumping at that, "Damn right. I'll let the boss know."

"Going to talk to Shal, see you in a few." The swordsman remarked, secretly glad to see a fire back in the beast of a man's eyes. The loud brute, someone passionate about a fight, had become a shell of himself.

"What are you readin' baby?" Uvogin gruffly asked as he watched you with a bored expression. 

You're focused on the e-reader he got you that he had Shalnark jailbreak, "Mm," You finish the page before setting it down, "A book Paku recommended, a romance actually."

"What'you need romance books for? You got me!" He teased.

Rolling your eyes you give him the most innocent look you can muster, "Because it's interesting, fun."

"Yeah yeah," and his focus went back to the television, adoring the moments he could catch you entranced by your books. Always looking so adorable as your eyes scanned the words- an occasional reaction to whatever was happening in the story. 

But you didn't return back to the e-reader. Your attention was on him, a pink blush rising to your cheeks as your core burned. The vivid imagery of the smut you'd read minutes prior burned into your head, affecting your body as your thighs rubbed together. Seeing Uvogin manspreading on the couch shirtless, without a care in the world, had you eating him alive with your eyes, wanting one thing. 

With a smile you pad over to him, him raising a brow as you dragged your right leg over his waist. You pushed against his chest to steady yourself, now straddling him. He looked at you with amusement in his eyes, his hulking hands pushing up the edges of your shirt to feel your skin. 

"Whatcha doing little one?"

"Who says I'm doing anything?" You giggle, fingers tracing his thick pectorals, "Wanted to see you."

"Could see me from your place over there," He was being difficult on purpose you know, it just made you more determined. 

Faking an annoyed sigh, you lean down to capture his lips in a delicate kiss, squeezing his shoulder to ground yourself. Your fingers cupped the side of his face tugging at his sideburns, letting the scratchiness take over your senses as your hips buck. You sighed out so sweetly and cutely each time your lips separate with his, and as you feel his cock grow against your warmth, electricity shudders through you. And you're now certain he knows what you were up to, as if he didn't know from the start. 

"Want something girl?"

Uvogin knew exactly what his little baby wanted. How your eyes were half lidded as your hips moved against him with silent pleas escaping the back of your throat you couldn't stifle. You were a needy thing, hazed with lust for him, wanting to be his little fuck toy. So he readjusts you on his lap so that you're cradling one of his large muscled thighs against your cunt. 

"Awh- Uvo!" you gasp from the contact, "pl-please want-"

"Don't worry not gonna torture you tonight with that," He lived for your reactions to him. Lived for how flustered you got from the idea of riding his thigh, but he had something else in mind, "love when you get so desperate for me, lucky for you I don't wanna wait."

"Uvo~"

"Now now," He grinned mercilessly as you gasped his name when he flipped you two, all 400lbs of muscle and 8-plus-feet of him towering over you, large palms on either side of your head. You were desperate for contact. Legs wrapping around his waist, just trying to buck your hips up against his growing bulge, "I know how pathetic you get once I got you like this, yeah?"

You nod shakily.

"And that's just how I like you, takin' me all desperate and stupid on my cock. You want that huh?"

"Yes yes Uvo," You stammer, tears welling in your eyes as he pushes his groin into you for friction. 

"Mm," He grunted as his gruff hands stripped your shirt from your tinier frame, tossing it to the side. Smirking at your lack of a bra, he began his slow onslaught of kisses along your chest, making his way to your breasts. Taking one of your nipples into his mouth, you're whimpering as he rolls the tiny bud along his tongue, swirling and sucking, nibbling. With a grunt he gives the other the same attention, pools of spit streaming down your chest as his spit laminated you, all warm and making your head swirl. 

All you can think about him. Him. Him. Him. Bucking your hips and mewling wildly, nothing on your mind, everything a blank white as you desperately require more contact with his cock on your core. 

"Stop moving." Uvogin grunted as your nails dug into his shoulders, "Gonna take these off." And he ripped the boxers that adorned your lower half, uncaring if the fabric took damage. He'd get you more if you wanted. Anything you wanted. 

Uvogin licked his middle finger as he fell back to his knees, leaving you naked to the elements and him alone. Carefully he runs the digit along your glistening wet slit, watching how you shiver from the ghostly touches. Already a mess for him, dripping onto the couch as he decided he'd start with two fingers now, you seemed wet enough! Just two fingers stretch you completely, one finger of his alone was larger than the cock you had for your first time as a teenager. So you were sobbing by that point as his two fingers slid in and out of your cunt, lewd squelching noises filling the room intertwining with your moans. And it was music to Uvogin's ears. 

You were melting like molten lava, the knots in your stomach unwinding as you felt a rush of a heavy orgasm coming over you. Your pussy spasming around his fingers, a cry leaving your lips as slick gush rushes from you and onto his hand and the fabric you lay upon. The joy you felt as he laughed calling you cute, made you feel good. So good your lips part and tug up at the corners.

Uvogin's next movements had your mouth watering. He slips off his shorts, his long and thick cock springing up into the air slapping against his upper stomach. Pre-cum leaks from the bulbous tip and you were suddenly reaching for it, to squeeze and tug to get him closer. 

"Wanna stuff you all full of my cock, need to." He grunted as he lined his thick cockhead with your entrance, prodding at it and teasing your clit with slick motions. Uvogin knew he should have prepped you more but a big piece of him lost control when you initiated sex. His mind goes blank over the fact your perfect self wants him. Put him in overdrive and he wants you to fill your pussy with his girthy cock that barely fits, bulges your stomach out as he has to force it to the hilt because his size shouldn't fit inside you. And oh how you cry so sweetly begging for him. 

"Please- please-" and he hasn't even begun to thrust into you and you were crying for him! 

Opening your legs further, resting the backs of your upper thighs onto his biceps he began to push his throbbing dick into your pretty, puffy pussy. Your tight walls always try to push the invasion of his thick length out, the intrusion breaking you down as tears felled from your lash line. Your legs shake, "Thank you Uvo- thank you- please fuck me- need your big cock in my tiny pussy-" 

"I know baby," Uvogin cooed, lining his hips up for a better angle before he finally slams all the way in. You stifle a silent scream, a pained yet pleasured moan as your eyes roll back in your head, a stupid, lips parted smile growing, "So fuckin' tight little girl, feel ya squeezin' me so good."

Uvogin leaned forward and tilted his head in such a way to capture your lips in a heated kiss through your whines. Your fingernails dug into his skin with more force as you tried to relax around him, though you knew it was futile, it always took your breath away expanding your insides when his cock entered you. Your poor gummy walls spasming around him trying to get his length out of you, your bundle of nerves on fire as you feel it down in your toes. 

He let you breathe for a second, giving you time to adjust. Because he knew you were all full of cock, probably feeling him in your damned stomach, oh how he smirked at the outline of himself in your abdomen sending chills down his spine. Even his cock still inside you, your lower stomach was expanded. You'd spasmed around him whining and whimpering, begging as flutters of pleasure shudder through your nerves, top to bottom. He loves admiring you like that. Being able to look at where you two are conjoined- seeing your tiny hole all stretched around him at your core- it doesn't look right. As if he'd split you in two with a dick with more girth than parts of your legs. 

"Breathe baby," Uvogin chuckled as he saw your eyes going white, tapping your cheek with his index finger to get your attention. 

So he pulled out just an inch, letting you gasp for air as you came back down to earth with his bulbous tip no longer forcing its way into your cervix. Blinking furiously, your breathing returned as you wrapped your arms around his neck, "You can move- need you,"

"That's my good girl." Immediately he braced himself as his hips rose, cock just pulling out of you as your gummy walls clench back to normal. Feeling empty you go to whine in discontent, but his cock slammed back down into you, splitting you with velvet wrapped steel as all that can escape you is empty moans. The pace was faster than normal, that had you seeing stars. Crying how it was 'too much!' 

Your poor overstimulated cunt convulsed around his cock as an orgasm ripped through you, moans and the sound of slapping skin ringing in the living room. Uvogin was practically pleading about how well you took him, how tight you were, as he drilled into you fucking you through your high. 

With hazy eyes you look at him as you clench even more from all his praises. His cock felt so good throbbing inside your soaking pussy that coated him in your cream due to the bliss filled pain.

"Fucking cockwhore, you know that? Just a dumb little fuck toy for me to use. You love this don't you?" Uvogin grunted, losing himself in the pleasure of your clenched gummy walls around his hard length. He was doing everything to keep himself from finishing right then, wanting to enjoy this a bit longer. But you were practically comatose- with tears falling down your cheeks and dumb cries falling loosely out your lips. He was sure you don't even know what's going on at the moment, the pleasure overwhelming your shaking form as he forced another orgasm out. Uvogin knew all your spots- knew how to curve his hips in every position to hit just the right spot, that sensitive bundle of nerves that was always your undoing. And how you silence with a scrunched nose and spasming eye, he knew he was doing his job. 

You mindlessly nod, bliss painted on your fucked out face as you hoped it was enough of an answer. Because you loved this. Wished he could fuck you until you were a babbling incoherent mess all the time— because you didn't need to think or worry, just feel the pleasure he gives you while his lips pattered your skin with sloppy kisses.

"Gonna cum baby, gonna cum in my pussy," Uvogin fell forward onto his forearms as he crushed his mouth against yours. Giving several long thrusts more only to break away as he cums so hard his vision whites out, grunting like he was seeing heaven. Cock twitching as he filled you to the brim; hot, thick liquid coating your insides as your hips jerked against his. He rested his forehead to yours, both your heavy breaths intertwining, "I love you," Uvogin whispered, "And I love you," you return, hugging him close and tight as possible.

Uvogin missed you. He heard your voice everywhere. Saw your beautiful face everywhere. It was naive of him to daydream about you walking back through the door and into his arms. The way the Hunters handled you, uncaring for your safety from the start, he knew they'd never let you go back to him. He needed to get to you.

He honestly thinks he's dying. As if a piercing blade traced along every inch of his skin in an itchy fury, and a hole permanent in his chest. A piece of him was quite literally missing. You. 

A trail of bodies have since been left in the wake of your kidnapping. Anyone with deduced association to those who took you were found, tortured by Feitan, and eventually killed when they had nothing useful. Anger was something Uvogin was known for, his brash personality, and that devilish smirk. He never backed down from a fight and that included finding you. So nobody had seen him like this. Stressed. Lashing out at his fellow members in ways he would never have dreamed. An empty shell. As if having you taken from him set him on a path of chronic suffering, a chest as if its heart had been ripped out. 

"We'll find her," Nobunaga's voice finally reached Uvogin's ears. 

Uvogin laid on a small cot staring up at a cracked popcorn ceiling, eyes tracing the zagging dark lines. He's too in his head, he knew it, "Yeah, today wasn't too bad." 

It took the pair a week to get to the Republic of Padokea, then a few days to arrive in the city where Heavens Arena was housed. The bustling city could have been a risk for the two, but it was the crowds of bizarre people alike heading to watch battles that helped blend them in. No one bat an eye at two men who looked to be fighters- and no one batted an eye when bodies randomly showed up. 

"Mac said he's gonna keep his ears open. Never know who comes through that Arena," Nobunaga said, referring to their productive conversation with an old associate, "We'll get back and let the boss know."

For the first time they had a trail to follow giving the large man hope during a time of unending night.

-

THREE MONTHS LATER

There was a heavy thickness to the air as you were prepared for the night. Sitting upon a stool as hair and makeup was tended to, whilst you're adorned in a white dress that engulfs you in tulle flowing about. As if it weighed a hundred pounds, it was a burden upon your shoulders even from the light fabric that went down your arms. You can hardly breathe from the tight bodice that forces your cleavage out the top. The image of yourself in the vanity mirror is someone you hardly recognize— a bruise along your cheekbone, heavy bags under your reddened eyes, pale skin from lack of sun. The only signs of life on your face was the blush painted on your cheeks and the shimmer on the corner of your eyes. Your eyes sting from the white liner drawn onto the waterline, and from the prior attempts at eye shadow. With each movement of the lady that stood above you, more of your hair tugged at and curled causing pain to your scalp. Everything was on fire inside of you. Everything hurt, a dread— a deep depression of abandonment and the reality of being left. 

You can hear commotion all around, rushing footsteps and commanding voices. Occasionally from the corner of the mirror you can see a Hunter peak in, nodding and speaking into what you imagine to be a phone. For all you really want in the midst of the wedding day preparations is to cry. You don't want to be in the gaudy-fucking dress Bates picked out that makes you look like a ridiculous fairy, with makeup and hair you despised. You're backed up against a wall, hopeless and preparing yourself for a life of misery- as dramatic as it seemed. Each day your hope of Uvogin being your knight in shining armor dwindled. Every loud noise you'd think it was him bursting in to save the day. 

You're scared. Fingernails digging into your palms, uncaring if you drew blood. Because with each passing moment pushed you closer to walking down the aisle to Bates. 

How could you feel pretty like this? All done up in something you'd have never chosen, all for a reason you didn't want. You felt ugly, a horrendous monster up on the hill to be ogled at. 

Each step you take as you were ushered out of the room, is a step further into the unknown as your pulse races. Your eyes frantically look for signs, for anything, for anyone. 

The last three months, four months total, with Bates and his Hunters had been your own hell. Constantly dazed and confused- vulnerable. Sick, lonely, forced to move constantly. Surrounded by weapons and learning intimate details about yourself that Bates knew- was terrifying. How obsessed he was with you, clear he had zero respect for you, viewing you as nothing but a possession. The bruise on your face showed such, and it was only the tip of the iceberg of the ones hidden by your dress. For his promise to never touch her until their wedding had been a lie, though never sexual, you were assaulted at any turn where you messed up. A thin scar along your left inner wrist furthermore proved the pain you'd endured. 

Tears well in your lashes as you descend a grand staircase, how you ended in this abandoned castle in the countryside in good shape, was beyond you. With hushed voices and rushed movements under the guise of night, you awoke in a canopied bed within a stone walled room with tattered tapestries.

Feeling as if you're walking to your death, you frantically look for a way out. If you had the chance to throw yourself over a balcony or out a window.

Eyes were on you. 

People turned away to whisper. 

You recognize nobody. And all you want to do is shrink into your wedding dress to disappear. A part of you wondered if your family would actually be here like Bates promised- you doubt it though. You hadn't seen them in years. 

"Miss Y/N," a Hunter approached you and the women leading you through the castle. You'd seen him plenty before, and you didn't like him, "come with me," his tone serious and you can't argue. 

The Hunter shooed the women from you, telling you to follow him through an onslaught of maze like hallways. You can't keep track of where you came from anymore. Stomach to the floor, legs like jello wondering what the stoppage was. 

You'd normally be more conscious, but you'd been broken down to where your senses no longer proved helpful. Once able to memorize footsteps and the simplest of movements from a person- you were too exhausted now. As if your fight / flight left. 

A section of the castle you hadn't seen before, it's back at the top where you seemingly started. Hunters lounging in what felt like a tower where someone would be left to rot becoming a shell of themselves. The week they'd spent at the once abandoned, hauntingly huge stack of stones- the poor maids must have been worked to death to get it to the level of clean it was currently at. You felt terrible. This was all because of you. 

"In here." 

"I- don't want to." You mustered to say. 

"In." A command. 

You hate how pathetic you'd become. But you were smart to know obedience meant surviving. A tiny room with armchairs and an empty armoire, dimmed and flickering light. 

Head in your hands, defeated, but more relaxed as this change in plans was pushing back your impending marriage... nonetheless you felt defeated. Numb. Tired as your eyes felt heavy. You'd come to terms primarily, or were forcing yourself to all whilst dreaming of Uvogin day and night. You'd suffer if it meant living another day with the possibility of seeing him one more time. 

As your mind raced, overthinking into the abyss and not catching onto the previously panicked voices before you'd been locked away in that room— you weren't prepared for the sudden assault of commotion. 

BANG. 

You flinched brain rewiring, mind on high alert within seconds, dizzied from how quick you rose from the armchair. With vision spotted black, you attempted to open the door that kept you from the noise. What was that? It was silent now aside from the clacking of the lock that wouldn't budge no matter how hard you tugged. 

With a determination to figure out what it was, you raced to the barred window as if there'd be clues outside. But nothing. Just dark clouds with a looming moistness to the air, signifying a coming storm. 

Gunshots. It had to be. Because your blood ran cold the instant you heard the loud clap and then the cries. Loud yells of shrieking girls and of commanding booming voices. Panic ensued outside. 

Then it hit you. 

Is it them... Him? 

Hope rushed into your core. A gleeful explosion in your chest as a giddiness shuddered through you from head to toe, nerves making your stomach drop. The sudden need to get out of the room had you desperate looking for anything to aid you. Though you freeze, knowing better. Uvogin always warned you to stay put if something ever happened with you around, explaining he'd be devastated in himself or any Spider accidentally hurt you. So like the obedient girl you always were for Uvogin, you go back to sit, and listen.  As if your brain and body acted out of an involuntary familiarity. 

Listening to grunts, hacking up of what you assumed to be blood- the whipping of thin metal had you sitting on the edge of your seat. Thuds and squelching make nauseas and bile rise in your throat, that you desperately tried to swallow down. Your stomach lurched as footsteps sounded from the opposite side of the door. And it was then you wonder, if this would be your end or your rescue. 

Holding your breath, you wait, the air around you going numb as a high pitched buzzing takes over your senses. Heart thumped in your ribcage as the door rattled, only to slam open with a flash of orange and smoke. A tall, thin figure was all you could make out as you squint. 

Your eyes widened, it took you a second to recognize the dark haired man that was now showcased from the small light of the room, "Nobu?"

"Well shit," He smiled, relieved and surprised as he re-sheathed his blade, "Look at you all dressed up!" 

You couldn't even begin to try to stifle your smile, "No way.." You want to cry, cry and throw your arms around Nobunaga to thank him over, and over. But your thoughts were on your lover, "I-is he here?"

"Yep, so let's get you out of here and to him." But then his brows furrowed, "Your cheek, who did that?"

As he approached, offering a hand to help you up, you were springing with joy that you didn't even feel or care about the marks all over your body, "Bates." 

"The Hunter trying to marry you?" Nobunaga does a once over of you, needing to know how many of the Troupe members needed to hold Uvogin back based on how many marks were visible. 

"You know about that?" You whisper. 

"It's how we found you. He got lazy, Shal got a hold of a wedding invitation." 

"I see.. there's more bruises that my dress covers." You wouldn't lie. Couldn't lie. This was Uvogin's closest friend, someone you trusted implicitly as well. 

"Uvo's trying to find Bates right now. He's.. uh, not one you wanna deal with right now."

"How is he?" 

"Fucking terrible," For a second you'd have thought Nobunaga was trying to crack a joke, but his eyes were dark, "He's been looking for months, losing his mind, worried." You nod, sadness fills you, but Nobunaga grabs your shoulders forcing you to look at him, "I know you're probably angry, but don't be. He's ran himself into the ground to get you back. Eventually started down the road you'd died until Shal got a breakthrough basically saving him from destitute..."

"Y-You don't know what's happened to me here to just be okay..." You sniffled, as if trying to argue that you had a right to be frustrated and you should be able to express it, not stifle. 

"Then let's go give Bates and his Hunters what they deserve, what they get for messing with the Troupe." 

Were you ready to see him? You had many questions. Then there was the part of you that was angry, betrayed in a sense, but overall feelings of relief overwhelmed you. To know Uvogin never gave up made up for the last four months, that he hadn't forgotten about you. So your core welled with excitement, a rush of electricity that made your skin crawl. 

Has Nobunaga always been this gentle with you? Or had you not realized how bad of a state you were really in. Because you'd changed. And you never realized it, never given the opportunity. You were skin and bones at that point, cheekbones sharp, any fat was gone as your body used all it could for energy. Flushed skin- sickly. Your movements slower than you'd realized as the swordsman had to guide you beside him, help you keep your footing. And it was when you see Feitan, Phinks, and Machi standing yards from the door outside- you realize it was bad. Because they looked at you as if you were a ghost, in a way that made any remaining color drain. Because Feitan would never show surprise with how his eyes widened then brows furrowing. And Phinks stopped himself mid sentence it seemed as his mouth hung open. 

Machi was at your side immediately, as she'd been the one to care for your health throughout the years. Once you had weekly check ups where she'd investigate your body to tell Uvogin you were healthy and not hurting yourself. You'd hated those checkups, hated how it took away any options of self harm because Uvo made it seem like the consequences wouldn't be worth it, that it was only to be careful. Then somehow you'd managed to grow closer to the closed off woman when you fell deathly ill. She'd stayed in the guest room and suddenly having a girl around seemed like the greatest gift. You wanted to hug her as she grabbed your wrist with pursed lips.

"Where are you hurt?" Machi demanded. 

"I don't... know. Everywhere?" You stammered as your eyes grew moist. 

"You're not well.. at all." She said under her breath, "need to get you out.."

"What?"

Machi never answered many questions in general so you realized she wouldn't now. But you felt an odd sense of comfort that you assumed to be her nen, "Nothing. Come on." 

Your surroundings moved quickly. The four members of the Troupe that'd found you surrounded you in a protective manner. Your body felt so heavy, your legs like molten lava that wanted to sink to the ground. Oh- The ground sounded so good. Cold. A place to fall in a heap, let the ceiling swirl. Your thoughts grew oh so hazy as you were about to trip when- 

Phinks suddenly grabbed you, pulling you behind him as Nobunaga's sword unsheathed. In horror you watch as he effortlessly beheads two men with guns, Feitan following suit snapping the neck of someone else. You think you're going to hurl. Uvogin never lets you see violence to this level. Legs wobbling, you want to hide. The corners of your vision is bubbling with black spots. 

"Hey don't give out on us now, don't wanna get my ass chewed out by Uvo if you get hurt on our watch." Phinks grunted, his rough hands pulling your bicep hard enough to shake you back down to earth. 

You nodded slowly, "I-" 

"We're moving too slow." Feitan snapped. 

Nobunaga shot the short man a look, "I'll carry her,"

"No.. m' fine-"

An explosion shattered the air. 

"Shit."

"Y/N, stay here. Don't move." Nobunaga demanded as the others darted off with lightning speed. 

"What was that?" You asked as your heart rate spiked. 

There was turmoil in Nobunaga's eyes as he tried to decide his best course of action, "Stay here, we've already cleared surrounding areas so nobody should stumble on you. Besides doubt they want you dead." And he left you on that note. 

Left you standing there in a circular opening of a hallway feeling ridiculous. Alone. Vulnerable as you rubbed along your arms glancing around. A stench came from the far side which you caught red out of the corner, and against your better judgement you moved closer. Human remains smashed to mush. Bile rising up in your throat as your body swayed, you desperately tried to stay conscious. Until-

BANG. Then a roar- a resonating battle cry that made the ground shake- and a smile split your lips. Butterflies swarmed your stomach. A chorus of sweet symphony tickled the back of your brain. Like a hundred pound weights lifted off your chest for the first time in months. 

Uvogin. 

For a second you weren't sure if you should continue. Each step forward brought broken walls and destroyed bodies, old paintings smashed into the floors. Blood smeared and spattered. Your stomach churned, but the thought of seeing Uvogin allowed you to continue moving with a false sense of bravery. You weren't scared of him but you were scared of coming into contact with someone you shouldn't. What awaits you past each corner's a mystery, one that'd make your heart leap from your chest, you'd jump at each noise cursing yourself for not listening to Nobunaga. Because maybe you are scared to see Uvo. To see him in his element as the giant monster who reveled in violence. 

Your lungs hurt as the air grew dense. You felt a coughing fit coming over you as searing pain like a hot iron branded your chest. 

Heaving as you stumbled down a flight of stairs, heart pounding trying to keep your footing to not end up at the bottom of the staircase. Landing as gracefully at the bottom, pushing yourself up against a banister that looked downwards to an open foyer, you choke back a sob as you finally see him. All 8 feet 6 inches of him with flexed muscles, hair back in a messy bun- and you didn't care in the slightest about the blood soaked into his white tee-shirt. A devious, murderous aura surrounded him as a sickening grin was on his face as he had a group cornered. But all you saw was the finest man the world could offer as your breath was whisked away. To know you weren't scared of him like this made your heart alight with intense love- 

"Uvo!"

You'd just celebrated your 20th birthday last night with friends, wobbling into work later than you'd have liked. The bakery you worked for smelled of fresh bread, tart cherries, and an overly sweet note that made your stomach churn. You wrinkled your nose through the fog of your state, rubbing at your eyes and not noticing a familiar figure. He frequented your place of work, was large and you're not sure how a person like him exists. You brighten as you see him, his smile making butterflies swirl in your stomach. Uvogin wandered in one day and you hadn't realized that months down the line it would change your life. 

Because it was when the man you were seeing came in, unfortunately at the same time as Uvogin. Uvogin's smile faltered, chest alighting in flames of anger as his fists clenched. He didn't know about this boyfriend. And how he wished you a late happy birthday, brushing hair behind your ear set him loose. 

Blood splattered. You were shocked, frozen as you attempted to register what'd happened. Mind and body working overdrive to comprehend, but before it set in, your body went limp. 

That wasn't how he wanted to take you. He wanted you to fall in love with him naturally, then keep you close and safe, and happy. So he winced each time you screamed and cried, yelling at him that he was a monster. Uvogin was lenient though, understanding and more aware than most- a smart man who wanted you to realize you had your basic freedoms to be yourself with him. That the man you'd gotten to know at the bakery was still the man you kidnapped you! He believed you'd see it soon. 

And you did. You were clearly independent, uncaring if you had human contact he learned quickly. Which he hated as he'd sit outside your door just to get a glimpse of you- he was the desperate one. It took him bringing you an ereader for you to converse with him. Small thank you's or telling him about the current read. 

Soon you were craving his touch, his large hands along your skin, massaging your scalp— even kissing down your shoulder. Your mind blocked out all the kitchen utensils you'd once thrown at him in a futile effort to hurt him. Your mind blocked out the way you kicked and screamed when he locked you in his room so he could watch you finally sleep with danger in his eye that made you shrink. Your mind blocked out the emptiness and the fear he made you feel whilst you learned of his profession. And yet it was all replaced by the laughs he gave you, the presents, the tender touches, all the love- because no one ever made you feel as wanted or as loved as Uvogin did. He genuinely cared for you and you soon realized your feelings were the same, your life without him would be full and without meaning. 

A year since he'd taken you, you'd tell him you loved him after baking his favorite pastries. You'd always remember the way his pupils dilated and mouth dropped open, the flakey dough in his hand falling to the table top. How he was across the kitchen to capture you in a hot kiss, mumbling sweet nothings as he took you to bed for your two's first time together.

You were already sobbing as you willed yourself to get his attention, trying to call out his name louder than prior.

"Uvo!" You yelled, voice too scratchy that it hardly carried with the chaos amongst them. 

He couldn't hear you, you were far up and he was too focused on killing the men in the corner. And you realize something that brought you joy, one of them had curly blonde hair- Bates.

"Where is she?" Uvogin's voice booms up, sounding like music to your ears, "M' losin' my fucking patience here. Got me on the hunt for months."

"You won't have her," Bates was shaking in his boots but still attempted to remain stoic, strong, "She's mine now."

"Yeah yeah, yours. I'm sure." Uvogin laughed from the deep of his belly, "Give me a break. How well ya work with me here will depend on how you meet your eventual end. Slow and painful, or nice and quick?"

Bates motioned for the two Hunters besides him to move forward, to close the gap to entertain a fight. No longer do you see the confidence the cocky group who took you once had. Reality finally set in with what they'd gotten involved with- because you'd learned their bragging of stalking the Phantom Troupe was embellished to an extent. The reason the Phantom Troupe couldn't find them was because they'd been that irrelevant, the only reason the game of cat and mouse went on for so long. 

You don't want to watch but you can't bring yourself to tear your eyes off of Uvogin. How big his muscles were as he flexed, grabbing one of the hunter's heads, slamming into the ground, a ghastly crunch as blood splattered up. He was a graceful predator as he lunged at the other, who was then dead within seconds from the same. Your knees locked, wishing you'd looked away as you slowly sank to the ground. Fingers trembling as you stare through spotted vision. Tears stream down your cheeks as you hiccup out pathetic sobs. Gasping as you clutched at your chest, crumpling into a ball on your knees. It hurt. So much. 

What made you stand to continue, to find a way down to him was the fact you realized it hurt more being away from Uvogin. You couldn't handle another moment outside of his general proximity. 

A narrow hallway leads downwards a spiral stairwell, which you take one step at a time letting your fingers glide against the cold wall as if keeping you steady. Your body is hot and it's that coldness keeping you grounded as your footsteps echo, eyes darting about to look for a way to the room where Uvogin and Bates were. Uvogin's voice made it easier, never once could he be a quiet man and it made your heart swell. You'd be back in his arms in moments! And you weren't sure from how full your chest and lungs were if you wouldn't make it mere seconds more. 

Time transfixed as you stepped into a room reeking of iron and musk, your tiny heels clicking on the tiles, heavy pain shooting up your legs begging for reprieve. Your exhausted body from the months of wear and tear felt like it'd give out any moment, only your will keeping you upright. 'Uvo, Uvo, Uvo,' your thoughts chanted over and over. You dreamed of you two reuniting. Dreamed of him saving you like a knight in shining armor, how emotional and loving it would be. 

The two men don't notice you right away. Uvogin had Bates by the neck, pushed up against the wall with a menacing look pulling at his lips. 

You collapsed for what feels to be the nth time, overworking your body down to the bone. Pure adrenaline and emotions being the only thing to push you through. But you think you've gone and run out, all empty. With a huff you wipe at the tears still falling, just praying he'd notice as you whimpered his name over and over. But Uvogin was hot in the face, seething and speaking murderous nonsense to Bates, waiting for his fellow members. 

"I ain't killing you yet, you're gonna be spending some sweet time with our number two," Uvogin chuckled, his words sinister.

You know what that means. 

Palms flat on the ground as you regulate your short gasps. 

Uvogin's body tensed as a chill ran down his spine, he'd gone deathly silent amongst the chaos. Grip on Bates's neck loosening just a smidge to allow a ghastly noise from the hunter's throat. 

"Uvo.." You mewl silently, silently begging him to see you. 

Uvogin's eyes were on you, finally. His hands let go of Bates, who fell to the ground with a loud crack as he shrieked from a newly broken ankle amidst gasping for air from a bruised trachea. 

"Y/N?" Bates' screams were lost on Uvogin as he took slow, heavy steps toward you. There was disbelief on his face twisted with utter sadness. As if you were a ghost, he was scared, hesitant to approach you, slowing limbs. He towered over your frame, a moistness in his eyes as he looked over every piece of skin he could see. 

"Hi," You shakily sigh, relief filling your body up like it'd spill over. Looking up at him attempting to muster the cute smile he loved so much while seeing the devastation written across his. That pang in your chest knowing, but thankful, he suffered like you. 

Uvogin dropped to his knees, you in arm's length to him as inches of air exist between you, as if he was nervous to touch you. But he couldn't wait any longer as he knew it was you in front of him and not some apparition. You relax, shudder out an 'oh' as his calloused palm rests against your cheek, his thumb stroking your soft skin. His touch set you aflame as you whimpered, pushing your head further into his hand. 

"Oh my girl- my sweet baby," Uvogin grabbed your waist, finally, pulling you to his lap to hold you close with speed and little strength so as not to harm you. He could feel your increasing amount of tears through his shirt as your fingers gripped the fabric, "M' here now, I got you."

"U-Uvo!" You weep into his chest. Hiccuping and sniffling as tears soaked the large man's shirt. 

His large hand pets your hair, his other cradling you to him like you'd disappear any second. Large muscles corded so tight he may explode, emotions that'd been pent up for so long expelling. Uvogin's nen aura raged around him, around the room and expanding past the perimeter of the old castle. It was all enough to kill anyone who felt it out of fear, but in a way it was a comfort to feel his intensity, to know your protector was holding you. 

You're shaking; cold and exhausted, and finally your body and mind knew it was safe. Subconsciously, in the sense that it could finally shut down. Finally leave its survival mode you'd been running on for months. 

Through all the joy blossoming in your chest your limbs felt like lead. Your mind began to whir a million different ways like you were stuck in place but jostled around at the same time. 

"Uvo?" You sound so meek, so sick to him that as he cradled your cheek he could feel, see the weight loss and starvation that had set in. The sickly tint to your skin. Chapped lips. Dead eyes. 

His gaze fierce as he took in your limp state as you numbly stared at him, a crooked grin on your lips as your consciousness began to lull. 

"Hey, stay with me." Uvogin couldn't demand that of you but he still did. He still pressed his warm lips to your frigid ones, electricity igniting in both of your bodies. Desperation as your lips mesh and tongues entangled before your head nods back, eyes fluttering closed. 

But soon his voice goes gruff, hoarse as he calls your name. Trying not to shake you. Trying to stay calm as he cradled you bridal style, picking you up because he needed to get you out of this wretched place where another man tried to marry you. Were you breathing? He was hooked on watching your chest rise and fall, certain death gnawing at his mind if the time between breaths went too long. Only you could make his bloodlust become irrelevant towards the hunter as Nobunaga took over to haul Bate's limp body. 

Uvogin ignored the pitied looks from the other members. He only found reprieve as Chrollo expressed his support to do all in his power to help. And the understanding between him and Feitan that the normal torturer who worked alone would allow the brute to sit in.

-

When you slowly came to, your eyes burned and your lungs cried out for reprieve as you clawed at the air. Your fingers caught with something long as a sudden jolt of pain from your arm traveled upwards. It was dark, but a single light served as your beacon back to the land of living. Gasping for air, like breathing was a chore, like it hurt your lungs and heart and throat to do so. Through blurry vision you're waving a hand in front of your face trying to count the fingers.

The ground comes too fast and too hard. You'd overestimated trying to gain composure upon where you laid and overshot it. Now you laid on cold tiles pushing up to your knees.

Where are you? Was this a room at the primary Phantom Troupe base? You'd been once prior out of pure necessity. The lack of a window in the room seemed to support your thoughts. Because it came rushing back as soon as you thought about the Spiders. Uvogin. That whole sham of a wedding they'd stopped. Sobs wrench from your throat at how you were saved and somewhere the man you loved was doing gods knows what.

Why wasn't he glued to your bedside? Frustration bubbled up your chest and into your throat, a sour taste left in your mouth. There you stood taking count of yourself, only in socks and a thick cotton gown, blood trickling down your arm from where the discarded IV had been. 

On replay was 'to find Uvo.' Nothing else mattered. So clumsily you began your search, opening the door with a creak, a cold moist air hitting you smack in the face. Dim lights line the dark stone walls and faintly, so faintly you wonder if you're imagining it, you hear noise. If this was the same Base Uvogin once brought you too, it felt uncanny and more off-putting, like you were deeper underground. A sense of entrapment and claustrophobia setting in as you padded along the cold cement, clearly that of a basement. And clearly you'd been kept in the only semblance of a normal room to receive medical attention. The air grows evil- the only way to describe it as a chill runs down your spine. Your gut feeling is you're walking into a dangerous situation, forcing you to wonder some more if you really did get rescued. 

A flickering lamp. Dingy paint job spattered the walls that already began peeling. A lone door calling for you to come closer. 

There were voices on the other side of the steel door. A door where blood stained the ground heading in, where nail marks tainted the stone making your stomach churn. Beyond that door must have been where torture was conducted, by Feitan, so you assume he'd kindly point you in Uvo's direction. 

The lump in your throat made it hard to swallow. Your insides screamed at you to turn, to run, not to open the door that reeked of death. 

But you did anyway. 

Five bodies turn upon the sound. There was a man tied to the chair in the center, one that's almost unrecognizable. Almost. A litany of strange devices and tools sit strewn out throughout the room; on walls and tables. 

Uvogin stared wide eyed, "Fuck. Fuck." His confusion morphed to utter joy. A giant grin pulled at his lips as your gazes connected and it was as if the universe collided at that moment. One big galaxy of sparkling stars that shone around the man you loved. 

"Uv-" The reunion as Uvogin began his way over to you was cut short as you took in Bates, Feitan stood next to him with pliers. You gag, clamping a hand over your mouth. Skin, bones, some teeth, hair, and god knows what more litter at Bates's feet pooled in both dry and fresh blood.

Strong arms scoop you up and soon you're rushed out the room, the door reverberating on its hinges as it slammed. The medicinal scent you missed earlier became overwhelming as the surroundings you woke up to, surrounded you once more. 

Uvo was laughing at that point, hugging you as he spun your weak frame. "Y'finally awake baby thank fuck. Been goin' stir crazy."

You're swirling, nauseas, "U-Uvo," You squeak and your voice hardly sounds like your own. But you try to hug him back around his neck, your legs flailing before they connect with the ground. 

Uvogin dropped to his knees to be closer to eye level with you, his warmth enveloping you so intently you moved closer. Close as you could physically be as your hands comb along his shoulders- to his neck- to his cheeks where you squish and trace along his features. He watched you so patiently with a soft look, smirking as his hands squeezed your waist in reassurance. It grounded you, let you forget about the gruesome scene you'd walked in on moments ago.

"You're here." You whisper. 

"You're here." He countered. 

"I'm here." A large hand engulfed the side of your face, you nuzzled into it, "I'm not dreaming?"

"I fuckin' hope not."

Letting out a shaky breath you murmur, "Missed you. I stayed strong."

"Damn proud of you. Did so good."

You almost keel over at his words as they send shivers down your spine. His praise was music to your ears. Pink washes over your cheeks, flushing down your neck.

"Let's get you off your feet, Machi will kill me if she finds out you were up and walkin' around." Uvogin's world revolved around you from the second you met. He knew every tell of yours and how to make you tick. He knew when you were genuinely happy or sad, or even when you were holding back. Like a line tethered you two he could almost feel your exhaustion and worries. He saw the sickness wreaking havoc on your smaller frame, one that was all bone and skin. 

Uvogin situated you in his lap where he perched on the bed leaning against the wall. Your side glued to his chest where your head could slot perfectly into the crook of his neck. Yet you opted to stay looking at him to take his face in like you'd never see it again. His eyes intently staring into yours speaking a thousand words that could never be relayed by mouth. 

"I started worrying," He clicked his tongue, "That you wouldn't wake up, no matter what Machi said. Seeing you laying there like a fuckin' dead person killed me because, how's some pathetic hunter gonna claim he loves you but let you rot away. Machi said you were pumped so full of drugs over the months waiting for them to be flushed out was gonna take awhile."

"How long was I out for?" You cringed, remembering pieces of what you'd endured. 

"Week, Machi thought it'd be longer. That's why... thought I could step out for a few hours..." You knew he was referring to the torture session, "Of course you'd wake up the one time I leave for more than 30 minutes, sorry you had to see that babe."

You shake your head, "S'Okay. I'm okay, don't want to think about it."

"You don't gotta right now but- I wanna know everything they did to ya. We're keeping him alive til' we know."

Want fills your core, bursts of warmth within you and you're pressing your lips to his. You choke out a pleasured sob from the feeling. From the delight. From your shivers of emotion you couldn't understand. "Want to know about everything you did too. Thought about you so much, imagining when you'd come and get me. I worried- I know you're strong but couldn't stand thinking you got hurt somehow and I wouldn't know."

Uvogin pulled you back in by the back of your neck, his kiss bruising compared to your delicate one. A kiss filled with desperation and fear, that Uvogin needed to feel to taste that you were in his arms. He needed you to feel through the kiss how much he loved you, how thankful he was. 

"You don't worry about me." He pressed his forehead to yours, "I would have turned every city upside down to get to you. Nothing would have stopped me, only death. I feared the state I'd find you in..." 

Tears drip down your lash line. 

"I won't fail you again." He said with determination that made you shiver, that nestled so deep down into your bones you knew it to be true. God bless anyone's hearts if they try something with you in the future. 

"It wasn't your fault." 

"But it is. Supposed to protect you, didn't realize we were targets. Got too comfortable I guess." His large hands prod and stroke along your skin. 

You watched the storm that raged within his features and you allowed him to think while you went back and forth within yourself. Do you admit you felt abandoned at times? That you're angry? Or would that upset him and he'd punish you... That struck a nerve. You couldn't remember the last time you worried how your words or actions or feelings would lead to a punishment. Your mind swirls about the things Bates said to you but a wall stacks right back up, you push the intrusive and wrong thoughts away. Bates had tried to plant little seeds of doubt within you, because you'd been so happy with Uvogin prior. That was it. 

"You tensed up baby, what's wrong?" 

"I-"

"Take your time."

That was the Uvogin you knew. Not just the rowdy big man. One that understood, was patient with you. "I just... So many thoughts keep coming at me. Haven't been in my right mind in so long, I was always being forced to take things so I wouldn't know my surroundings. Half the time I felt empty like... my head was empty."

Uvogin's grip tightened, "Bastard."

"I don't even know if I can tell you everything, because I don't know if I know it all. If that- makes sense."

"It does. Maybe it'll come back, maybe it won't but nothing is too insignificant."

"Is something wrong?"

"Not sure yet. But it don't concern you, you're safe and I'm keeping you out of it. I ain't leaving your side unless absolutely necessary." 

You could only nod, butterflies flitting in your chest as you reached to grab his right hand, pulling it to your lap. He let you trace along his palm, squeeze and massage his fingers until you deemed it enough. His fingers engulfed yours as they intertwined. 

"They primarily left me alone." You wanted to, no need to tell Uvo the things on your mind while they were fresh. So then later if you remembered more the pieces could fall into place and you didn't want to carry it alone, "At first Bates tried- he tried to be with me, told me I couldn't truly love you. I tried so hard to get him off me but he kissed me and I just remember flailing and eventually he backed off. Said he wouldn't touch me again until our wedding night." If words could kill, Uvogin would have been broken on the ground from the anger that overwhelmed him. Such a petrifying aura but you squeezed the hand in yours as tight as possible, but easier knowing his anger wasn't directed at you. "Otherwise they only ever got violent when we switched areas, like I was the plague or something they needed to eradicate how I felt about you." You move your arm to show him the scar on your wrist, then next the litany of bruises your dress covers.

"Saw all that." Uvogin grumbled. 

"Uvo?"

"Yeah?"

"May I speak freely?"

"Course you can, just me."

"I..." You closed your mouth, you still had time to back down. But you couldn't. You suffered. You'd been violated in more ways than one and he needed to know your fears, your current grudge. "Thought, at times, after so long you... weren't coming." Your words were hardly above a whisper, your insides thrashing as you slowly said a feeling that persisted during those four months.

He was almost too quiet for your taste. Left you chasing your panic on how to fix the situation, how you'd calm him down. 

His jaw locked. 

"I'm sorry baby." 

You could breathe. A comforted exhale of your distress leaving you, made you feel foolish for ever doubting him. 

"I assumed you'd feel that way, much as it hurts me because I'd never leave you. Four months was too long and I'm sure those fuckwads were trying to fill your mind with nonsense. If I got to spend the rest my life makin' it up to you, I will." Once Uvogin had his mind on something, he rarely could place it elsewhere. Made you think back to how hard he tried to make your favorite cake for your birthday, even trying days afterwards to get it right. He was stubborn and needed someone to ground him more often or not. So you wonder if Nobu stayed by his side during your absence, because you were sure Bates would have told you if Uvogin went on a murdering rampage; To turn you against him. 

But Uvogin was your savior, was the one who cared for you for years. Yes things were rocky at first, he'd gone about things all wrong he even admitted to it. But he hadn't hurt you, he loved you. You loved him. Loved him. Loved. Him. Right? Right? Right? Right?

The sudden build up in your chest, the ringing in your ears came to a staggering halt. Yes, you did. 

-

With every movement you had a larger shadow for all 24 hours of the 21 days since you woke. For when you coughed or let out shuddered breaths, he froze. When you cried, he held you while rubbing your back, reaffirming you were his. Apologies would fall from his lips day after day as his fingers touched every inch of your body- 'I'm sorry for not keeping you safe,' 'I'm sorry for not finding you sooner.'

There you sat in Uvogin's lap, clad in an overly large t-shirt of his that you swam in. One of his arms locked around your waist whilst the other traced circled on your bare thighs. You could hear how his heart beat meticulously and soothed, his breaths light, and it calmed you. Some days have been harder than others- you'd wake up in a panic, scared you were back in captivity with Bates. And each time Uvogin would trap you taut in his arms cooing to you sweet nothings that you were safe. That no one would ever take you from him again. 

"Eat more of your dinner baby, need to get some meat back on those bones," Uvogin pressed a finger into your thigh to get your attention, nodding to the half eaten meal on the coffee table. 

"I'm full," You responded swatting at his hand, "Will make me nauseous if I have any more."

"Oh, yeah. Well, guess we'll give it an hour or two then I'll heat it up for you unless ya want something else." 

"It'll get better, Uvo.. I know you're worried, patience." 

"I know I know. Just can't believe how damn boney you are now, I miss all that pudge I could grab and squeeze." He pouted. How funny to see such a monstrous man take on the form of an upset child. 

You turned your head to stick your tongue out at him, "Not you preferring me chubby,"

"What? I like fuckin' you in front a mirror seeing your tummy fat fold, so beautiful. And miss squeezing your thighs, too tiny now." Uvogin reminisced jokingly. 

"That's cus' you're so big."

"Yeah but you love how big I am, n' I love you my tiny little girl no matter what." He began to pepper kisses against your neck as his grip tightened.

Uvogin had a way with words that made you brain dead- and with that gruff, sultry voice of his never helped as it entranced you no matter what the conversation was. The way he made you feel so small and so cute, that he was your big strong man, your protector that loved you to death. That would search to the ends of the world for you. You just adored the way he made you feel- he was exactly what you wanted, needed, and more.

You grew warm with need, leaving you flustered on his lap. Unable to control your racing heartbeat, you pressed a kiss to the corner of Uvo's mouth and retreated to the bathroom. You pranced away leaving the big man to groan out, playfully calling for you to come back.

But you only rolled your eyes giggling, prancing into the half bathroom of your new place. 

Uvogin made the decision, which you agreed with, that going back to your old home wasn't a good idea. The possibility of panicking upon being in the place you'd been taken by Bates was high. You adored the new townhome Uvogin picked in a city where privacy was king and no one dared venture if they didn't have the money. But still isolated enough for Uvogin to blend in and leave on a whim. And smack dab next to Phinks and a girl he'd taken to. 

Splashing cold water on your face, it helped calm down the heat rising up your neck. 

But suddenly the smile you adorned fell flat. 

Hands trembled. Gripping the sink counter, the reflection you see staring back was one you liked. Life returned behind your eyes, cheek bones weren't as sunken. Yet the moment you close your eyes it was like ugly flashes of a dark room, swirling rooms, and a gaudy wedding dress took over. With a jolt you jumped back. In and out.  But your breathing doesn't slow, not as your legs crumble, pushing yourself against the back wall. Over the toilet you empty the contents of your stomach, painful gagging and heaves. Tears streamed down your cheeks. A pulsing prodded behind your sinuses, contorting features as you internally begged for it to stop. So much pain. Even when you slept you saw Bates and his men, forcing you to live through each needle they stuck in your arm. Forcing you to feel the physical and emotional pain all over again until you woke up screaming. 

"Babe?" Uvogin's concerned voice sounds from outside the door.

"I'm.. okay." You croak, sounding significantly worse than you felt. 

Immediately the door banged open, Uvogin through the doorway in an instant. His fear settled as he saw your form curled over the toilet, staring up at him with red eyes. 

"Ah shit." He dropped down next to you, massaging his fingers along the nape of your neck, "Did'ya get it all out you think?"

"Yeah, it wasn't much." You shakily reached to flush the contents, "I keep seeing them."

He frowned at your omission, unsure what to say. He continued to prod at your skin, attempting to bring you any sort of comfort. His pointer finger dug into the ridges of your spine, hearing your soft mewl for him to continue. 

"How do I get better?" You asked, though it was a question neither of you could answer. Uvogin was the furthest from a qualified therapist, his recommendations ranged from murder to... well murder.

"Time?"

You laughed quietly at his attempt at advice, falling back against Uvo. His giant body grounded you, he was your shield. If only he could be a mental one. "I know I'll be okay. Just want to go a few days without flashbacks or reminders, or nightmares. Can't wait to eat a normal meal."

Quiet fell over you. Solemness as your eyes connected. What was he thinking?

"Uvo?" You watched him nod, "I love you."

"I love you too." He chuckled warmly, kissing the top of your head. 

Strangely enough that incessant ringing in your ears was back. Like that phrase triggered something. But you stared at Uvogin through the numbing noise, trying to fight through it as you cupped his cheek. Right? His forehead fell to yours. Right? His lips met yours uncaring for the fact you'd just thrown up. Right? The large man descended on you like prey, tugging at your clothes, a whine elicited from the back of your throat. You think he mumbled something about how much he missed 'fucking you' that he needed to be inside you. You wanted that too. Right? Clawing at his back as his fingers coaxed their way inside you after he tore off your shorts. Your groans of pain quickly mixed into pleasure before you began to chase your high, before he let you drop. Empty. Then you felt the head of his thick cock prod at your entrance and your shot alive with adrenaline and electricity up your core. He hadn't prepped you enough, it would hurt but it'd fill you and stretch you so good how you liked it. And like that you became one with him again after five months.

Right?

[dollescented]

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖imgonnagetyouback.๋࣭𓂃

⋆˚࿔semi x fem!reader⋆˚࿔

synopsis : you and semi were in such as cotton candy sweet romantic relationship before semi ruined everything when she change the way she treated you, ghosting you and left you stranded. she decide to ending things with you and you don't have the reason to live anymore, but that was two years ago. you've decide to join the game between life and death to pay off your parents debts only to meet with semi in the game.

the third round is the mingle game.

half of the thousand players got their life taken away to burning down or nowhere else people could've find them. but the greedy players that's desperate for money has voted for the O's won the voting again to continue another game.

it's a mess in the first round, the second round, the third round, it's all like a chasing after the timing to find the exact amount of players when the number had called it out through the speaker. blood is stained everywhere on the floor, the screaming from other players outside the room is echoing along with the gunshot. however, semi can't help but to feel relieved when she got to save herself from eliminated when she's only with thanos teams and minsu.

but the feeling is only for temporary before thanos and namgyu decide to play rock paper and scissors for three players to choose between each other, they make minsu and semi playing the rock paper and scissors but semi stretching out her hand for minsu because she want to take him and find one more player for themselves instead letting one of them joining thanos and namgyu. when minsu is panic enough to pull out scissors hand sign to semi's hand that's for him, thanos and namgyu grab minsu away from the platform and semi felt like her heart sinking down.

she doesn't know how to feel when she thought that she could trusted minsu enough to be with him but he betrayed her just like that. luckily she found herself to be with another two players. after the fourth round, it's for the last round of the mingle game and semi couldn't find herself to ran toward minsu or be with thanos team anymore. the last round begin when the platform is spinning round and round with the children song again, the guide's voice is called out for two players. everyone is panicking searching for a partner for themselves and grab whoever they see.

semi is alone and she's panicking as she's glance around her to grab anyone that she seen without a partner yet, but her eyes widened in suprise when she felt someone suddenly grabbed her hand and leading her to running toward the empty room as the player with the number 223 slamming the door close and it locked by itself when the countdown is over, other players outside of the room is screaming for their life.

you had no idea who you were grabbing and leading in to the empty room with you when all you think about is to survive the mingle game. as the gunshot echoing from the outside of the room, you try to take a deep breath slowly and raised your head slightly to look at the player you've grabbed the hand earlier as your partner. but something heavy sinking down inside your stomach like a bubble, your heart skipped a beat before it beats faster than before as your eyes widened in shock when the player you've grab earlier is your ex-girlfriend.

on the other hand, you could see the way semi's got the same reaction as yours when you two are staring at each other like you've seen a ghost flashing over your eyes. the room is quiet, atmosphere has changes when semi lips parted to called out your name and asked you almost in quietscent. "why are you in here?" she ask but you didn't response to her questions. you're staring blankly to the floor when the flashback between you and semi of two years ago is running through in the back of your mind like a movie scene.

when the door is unlocked and you quickly swinging the door open to make your own way out of the room, you just want to escape from the game now that you've discovered that your ex-girlfriend is in the game too. after the mingle game, all the players return back to the facility room but you make your way to the toilet instead and luckily the guards allowed you so easily this time.

you're standing in front of the sink to wash your hands and fixing your long hair prettily in the mirror. before your breath caught up in your throat and your body is freezing when semi step out of one of the stall bathroom. the both of you are froze, but semi cleared her throat and walk toward the sink to wash her hands. she steal a glance to you through the mirror before her voice ringing through your ears.

"thank you for save me."

"i did it for myself." you respond to semi in almost cold and no emotions through your voice, she noticed the tone of your voice and she just realized how much she'd missing your voice. "why are you in here? why do you joining this game?" semi asked you out of curiosity but also because she felt sort of protectiveness toward you knowing this game is between life and death. you didn't look up to her and turned off the faucet sink. "i can do whatever i want, why does it matter to you?" you say as you turn around to walk away but stop in your track when semi grabbed your wrist.

"you shouldn't join this game, you can't stay in here you know? this game is about life and death, do you know how dangerous it is?" semi's voice is soft but firm tone to deliver her emotions through her words properly, she doesn't understand either why she's telling her ex-girlfriend what to do. you turning around and glaring up to semi with coldness in your eyes, you pull your wrist away from her grip. "so? i've participate in this game already. and there's no chance for me to leave this game if people like you keep voting to continue the game."

your eyes glance down to the blue patch on her jacket tracksuit before you turning around again and walk out of the toilet. semi had voted O's for the second voting time and the third round, but it's because she need the money desperately and the life of her outside the game is more scarier than the game itself. but you've voted for X's since the beginning after seeing half of the players died brutally in front of your eyes in the first and second game, but nothing change when the blue side has won.

the players vote for the X's or O's once again after the mingle game, most of the players has voted X's and the number only need to increase if the X's side get the chance to win this time. when the guard called out your number, you make your way to the voting table and pressed the X's button as it's beeping and walk away to standing on the red side with others. when it was semi's turn, you keep your eyes on her with crossed arms over your chest while you thought that she'll probably voting to stay in the game again. but your thoughts slowly dissapear when her hand press the X's button for the first time and the guard handing her the red patch to replace the blue one.

you look away from her when she turned around to make her way to standing on the red side, you didn't expect that she would change her vote for you or maybe you're just thinking too much that she change her vote for you when she probably doing it for herself. unfortunately, the voting ended up to draw in the same amount of number between the X's and O's teams which the guard had told them to continue the vote tomorrow and seeing if any of the player change their mind.

the facility room went lights out after the lady's voice had told all the players to sleep and continue for the game and voting tomorrow like yesterday. but the quiet room is only for temporary before you overheard the screaming voice from the X's side which is where your bed it is too. it wasn't just a scream, but screaming in pain and help with the clenching sound of other players stabbed the X's side players.

you quickly get up from your bed and trying to scanning your surrounded but the lighting flickering in the room make it harder to see someone or something. you grabbed the glass of cola bottle that the guard give to all the players earlier as their drinks, you're using them as the weapon to shield yourself from others. you had no idea how and why but the back of your mind snapped you to running and searching for semi and so you did.

the scream and clenching sound of stabbing is making your knees weak to hide yourself under the bunk bed from all of those insane players but you can't bring yourself to hide, when your heart is screaming to looking for semi. you stop in your track when you saw the glimpse of your ex-girlfriend is in the middle of all the bunk beds and namgyu is trying to stab her with the fork. before you could scream for semi's name, your heart stop when you heard her screams in pain as namgyu above semi stabbed her shoulder with the fork.

you snapped out of your fear and thoughts as you make your way forward forcefully and swinging the cola glass bottle toward namgyu's head as the glass shattered apart on the floor with a thud sound. his head is bleeding and groaning in pain as he turned around, you take a step back with fear in your eyes when he's grinning and get off from semi to lunged toward you with the fork. semi hissed in pain on her right shoulder but she get up from the floor and grabbed the piece glass on the floor to stabbed on namgyu's back from behind to prevent him from hurting you.

he fell down to his knees in pain and groaning as the fork is on the floor now, but before semi could continue to stabbing namgyu and killed him, you grabbed semi's hand and dragging her away from namgyu as you make you way to nowhere when the light is flickering. but the room went quiet as soon as the lights in the room are open and it isn't flickering anymore and the guards is coming up to the small stage inside the room, telling everyone to stop their fights.

when the guards check on the dead players, you dragging semi away from the other side and leading her to your bed instead. you pulled her down to sit on your bed, your hand covered the wound on her right shoulder to press the wound from bleeding. "you save me again...why?" your eyes looked up to semi who's staring at you with spark of something in her eyes.

how you'd wish to screaming at her, yelling at her with all the words that she has said to you two years ago, all the hurtful moments between you two of the past that haunted you down until today. but when you open your mouth to speak, nothing come out but a word to answer to her questions. "and i would do it all over again if had to."

the same night after the lights out horrifying game, you find yourself sitting next to semi on your bed with your knees is up to your chest and she's staring at your face like as if you're the most precious thing ever. "i'm sorry..for everything that i've put you through two years ago." your heart clenched like the shatter glass when semi apologize for the toxicity she has put in the relationship between you two.

"it's already in the past, i've moved on and it doesn't matter to me anymore." you says nonchalant tone in your voice as your legs slipped underneath the blanket, you lay your head on the pillow and close your eyes to force yourself to sleep only to feel a pair of warm arms is wrapping on your waist and the other is slipping underneath your head over the pillow. "but i haven't and i need you in my life again. it's hard for me to wake up everyday without the reason for me to live when you're not in my arms anymore."

those words make you fluttering your eyelids to open and your heart felt like it would stop beating when your face are so close with semi, your eyes is staring into her own like a sore sight and you can see a tears rolling down from semi's eyes to her cheeks in silent. you couldn't find yourself to response the way you wanted, you're trying to process her words all over again in your head, wondering if all of this is happening in real time in front of your eyes or were you just being delusional. but you know that you're not being delusional when semi's hand brushing away the strand of your hair and tucked behind your ear so gently, it makes you feel like it's the first time all over again.

"you don't have to accept me right now, you can take your time to think through your decision. i understand if you can't accept me to be in your life anymore." your heart feels like it'll explode in a second with the way you wanted to speak out your answer and telling semi that you're actually lying when you said that you've moved on, when in reality you're like a mess in the beauty thorns without her in your life.

but something holding you back from giving the answer she needed to hear. you only nodded your head as your eyes is still staring into semi's eyes as if you're looking at your own world. "thank you for save me, i promise to protect you throughout the next game or whatever that'll come up in here."

"you don't have to."

"i have to, i need to," semi quick in response makes your heart wildly beating so fast and the bubbling in your stomach is making you feel uncomfortable, but the warmness spreading through your lungs is like a butterfly when semi continue to speak her feelings. "because i still love you."

the three words that you were always hoping for to escape through semi's lips two years ago, when she ending what you thought you almost had with her, what you thought was forever with her, when you were begging on your knees for her to stay. you can't find the emotion to feel deeply when semi suddenly confessed her old feelings to you again, but tears flowing down through your eyes to your face in silent as your eyes is still staring into her own. semi felt like her whole world crumbling down to see you're crying because of her again, she hate to be the reason of your tears like in the past. her thumb brushing over your face and wipe away the tears gently, before pressing a soft kiss on your stained-cheeks like a touch of a flower.

you two cuddling in each other's arms until you're falling asleep in her arms so easily like you used to. it's always so easy for you to sleep whenever semi's holding you, especially it's like a cure for your insomnia. you hate to admit that you barely sleep well after she has left you and the insomnia came back to you, but now after a long time for the first time, you get the chance to sleep in semi's arms once again.

semi keep her eyes staring down to you like you're the universe, the world for her, the countless stars for her. the spark of love is in the sore eyes of hers, as she's caressing your cheek with her thumb gently and pressing another soft kiss on your forehead without waking you up, she spoke in quietscent, almost sound like a whisper and promising through her words and the look of love in her eyes for you.

"once we make it out of here and i will show you what's the meaning of love again, but this time, i will put the ring on your finger to make you as the love of my life forever."

˚ ༘ the endೀ⋆｡˚

[moraxsthrone]

✧:･.☽ ･ﾟ TITLE — something precious in return

✧:･.☽ ･ﾟ PAIRING — d. ragnvindr x f!reader

✧:･.☽ ･ﾟ WC — 5.7k

✧:･.☽ ･ﾟ WARNINGS/NOTES — nsfw. mdni. virgin!diluc. virgin!reader. mutual pining. childhood friends to lovers. light angst to comfort to smut to fluff. outdoor sex at night. flashbacks in italics. SLOW BURN, just how diluc likes it. from his very first time, he's always been such a naturally passionate lover.

here on your stargazing hill, the night breeze is colder than you had anticipated when you opted to bring the thin blanket upon which you presently sit. you’d worn long sleeves, but hadn’t accounted for how much cooler the air would feel against your face once the tears began to flow. 

normally you’d be at angel’s share right about now, sitting at the bar and shooting the shit with your best friend while he works. but under the current circumstances, diluc’s presence would only serve to drive the knife deeper: a cruel reminder of the love you could have had if only he returned your affection. then perhaps you wouldn’t be sitting here all alone, holding the broken shards of your heart in your hands because you never even would’ve looked twice at the other guy. instead, now it’s doubly broken - first by the guy who just broke up with you, then by the knowledge that the one you really want - your first choice - would always be just out of reach. you almost resent diluc because he has no idea that every time he smiles at you, your heart skips a beat even as it bleeds for him.

you shiver and pull your knees in close to your chest, arms hugging your legs as you look out at the stars. 

“you’ll catch your death sitting out here like this.” 

you squeak and nearly jump out of your skin before putting your hand over your heart and breathing a sigh of relief. 

“you scared the shit out of me, luc!” you chide as he snickers and drapes his coat over your shoulders. you playfully slap his arm as he sits down beside you. “it’s not funny! don’t sneak up on me like that!” 

you quickly wipe your cheeks with the back of your hand, turning his smile upside down as his eyebrows knit. you were hoping he wouldn’t notice you’d been crying, but it’s diluc. he notices things. especially when it comes to you. 

“what’s wrong, y/n?”

his body heat feels nice, his warmth enveloping you as you pull his coat tighter around yourself. “shouldn’t you be at the tavern?” you scoff, wishing he would just go away but scooting over to give him more room in spite of yourself. this would all be so much easier if he didn’t care about you so much.

“not when my friend doesn’t show up there on a friday night.” a new hairline crack snakes through your heart at the word ‘friend’. “i haven’t seen hair nor hide of you all week. now, talk to me. why are you crying? do i need to go kick someone’s ass?”

you fight the smile that threatens to betray you, and he notices…of course. 

“i feel passed over, luc,” you mutter, looking down at your hands, “like i’ll only ever be second best. i want to be someone’s first choice, every time. forever, not just for a few months.”

your words tug at his heart. if you only knew. “so would it be safe to assume things didn’t work out between you and what’s-his-name?”

you chuckle. even though you dated “what’s-his-name” for almost a year, diluc has always “forgotten” his name no matter how many times you’ve reminded him. clearly he's never thought much of the guy. and for good reason, it turns out. 

“seeing as how he dumped me for another girl, your assumption would be safe indeed,” you answer, choking on your last word as fresh tears begin to well up. 

“hey now,” diluc says softly, pulling you in, “come here.”

leaning into him, you lay your head against his chest where his voice sounds so much closer, deeper. balling his shirt in your fist, you tuck your head under his chin just like you’ve done since you were both little, and you cry. 

outside of family, diluc has always been your most reliable source of comfort. generally speaking, he’s never really been the most affectionate person. but when it comes to you he’s made a lot of exceptions. since his father died last year, not many people get to see diluc’s smile or hear his laugh, but you do. the two of you have pretty much been inseparable since you were 7 and he was 8. 

you'd gotten stuck in a tree after climbing it, too scared to climb back down. you sat there and cried for about half an hour when another little girl with long, bright red hair and pretty, big carmine eyes came along and helped you down. you had a couple of scrapes on your knees and elbows and were too shaken up to walk home. so your new friend carried you on her back.

you’ll never forget the way her thick hair tickled your face and made you giggle every time there was a breeze. it was only when you got back home and introduced your new friend to your mom as “she” that diluc’s face turned a shade that rivaled the color of his hair and he said, a little indignantly you might add, “he! i’m a boy!” 

to this day you still tease him about what a pretty girl he could pass for, albeit one with a very deep voice. he does not find it funny.

however, at the present moment, neither of you are laughing. with his strong arms wrapped around you, you hear his heartbeat quicken. 

“i happen to have it on good authority that you are someone’s first choice.”

“you do? i am?” you sniff and look up at him, your watery eyes following the strong line of his jaw as he trains his gaze on the starry canopy above.

his affirmative hum vibrates against your ear, which is still pressed to his chest. why is his heart beating so fast?

with your curiosity piqued, you lift your head. “who?”

“not telling.”

“how mature.”

a breathy laugh escapes his scrunched-up nose as he looks down at you again. “shut up.”

“c’mon, luc, at least give me a hint! is it someone i know?”

“yes.”

“really?” diluc’s hold on you loosens when you straighten up again. “is it someone i know from the tavern or the winery?”

“both.”

that doesn’t narrow it down much. “is it a guy or a girl?” you press.

“definitely a guy,” he says pointedly.

“what color is his hair?”

“i’ll only answer yes or no questions…”

“why can’t you just tell me?”

“because i’m not so sure he wants you to know.”

you scoff. “that’s stupid. why wouldn’t he want me to know?”

“maybe he’s afraid you won’t want to be friends with him anym-” shit, he thinks, too far. the brief flash of panic in his eyes isn’t lost on you. “in any case,” he says, clearing his throat, “you’re nursing a broken heart so it’s too soon to-”

“diluc,” you interrupt him. “is it you?”

he scoffs, eyebrows knitting. “pfssh…no!” he instantly turns away from you lest you see the blush that he can feel rushing to his face.

“aww, luc! you’re blushing!” you tease, leaning around him to try and see his face. you believed him when he said it’s not him (thinking otherwise would’ve been wishful indeed), but tormenting him a little because of how cute it is that he gets so easily flustered. giggling, you bring a hand to his jaw in an effort to turn his face towards you again. “you’re totally blushing, i can see how red your face-“

before you can finish your taunt, your senses are suddenly filled with diluc ragnvindr. his bottom lip is pressed between yours as he kisses you, the scent of wine-stained oak barrels filling your nostrils. you’re so stunned that you forget to kiss him back and he pulls away, unable to make eye contact. 

“fuck,” he mutters under his breath, moving to get up and leave to avoid making things any worse, but you grab his hand. he stops, but doesn’t turn around. he’s still too embarrassed to face you.

“how long?” your voice is soft, almost a whisper, afraid if you speak too loudly you’ll wake up to find this has all been a dream.

“since that night in the water…”

archons, that long? you were barely teenagers that summer. 

you’d snuck out of your respective homes to go night swimming. you met at the beach south of dawn winery, near the waterfall, before removing all but your swimwear that you’d each worn under your clothes. 

you both stood on one of the boulders and agreed to jump in on the count of three, but when the moment of truth came you chickened out, letting diluc jump in by himself. when he surfaced you were still standing on the rock, looking down and laughing at him. he swam to the shore and by the time you realized what he was doing, it was too late. he was coming right for you but the only escape was jumping into the water. 

you put your hands out, still giggling. “n-no! diluc, no don’t do it!”

a dark grin spread across his face as he grabbed your bare waist. you screamed as he tossed you into the water before jumping in behind you. 

you surfaced and as soon as you could touch the bottom you pushed your wet hair out of your face and turned towards the laughing boy. you called him a few choice names while splashing water towards his face, but he just ended up tackling you. you’re still not sure how it happened, but you found yourself in waist-deep water, still laughing with diluc’s hands perched on your hips to steady you when he suddenly leaned down and kissed you. 

the feeling of lips - his lips - pressed against your own made you feel like you were floating even as your toes curled into the sediment beneath them. you were both inexperienced, neither of you having kissed anyone before. it only lasted a few seconds, but to the two of you it felt like forever, each rapid beat of your hearts lasting lifetimes. but when you placed your palm flat against his bare chest, diluc pulled away and trudged out of the water. 

you watched him, confused and still in shock by what just happened. with his back turned to you, he started getting dressed. 

you were still anchored in the water, suddenly feeling cold. “luc?” 

he balled his hair into his fists to wring the excess water out before looking back at you, but only with a glance. “i uh- i have to go.” 

“diluc, what-” 

“just…get dressed and let’s go.” he sounded angry. “i’m not leaving you out here alone. it's too dangerous.” 

you frowned, hugging yourself as you walked out of the water. your head was swimming, reeling as you slowly made your way towards your own pile of clothes. 

he walked you home that night and neither of you have spoken a word of it since.

until now.

“i thought you hated it,” you say, collecting the excess length of his coat sleeves in your fidgeting hands.

“i didn’t hate it!” he corrects you a little too quickly, then lowers his voice. “i…i liked it.”

“then why the hell did you act so weird about it and want to leave?”

he averts his eyes, but doesn’t say anything. 

“diluc, why?” you plead, new tears - different tears - pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“i…” he knows the question has been burning at the back of your mind for years. an explanation is long overdue. he lowers his gaze from the stars overhead and mumbles something that you can’t quite understand.

“i didn’t hear you.”

“i got hard,” he repeats.

“you-” did you just hear him correctly? “you got hard?”

he has mixed feelings about hearing you say those words. it’s embarrassing, but also…it sounds sexy when you say it.

“so you’ve been breaking my heart for the past 5 years because you popped a boner?”

his eyes shift to yours before quickly looking away again. “i’m sorry.”

“you’re sorry?” you ask incredulously. “diluc, do you have any idea how confused i was? that was my first kiss and i’ve always wanted to cherish it, but you robbed me of that! you took something so precious to me and turned it into something shameful! all because your dick got hard?”

“i didn’t want you to see it, or worse, feel it. we- our bodies were so close. i didn’t want you to think i was a creep.” his apologetic eyes meet yours. “i didn’t mean to hurt you.”

you hazard a glance at his lap, but his leg is bent such that it makes it impossible to tell. “are you hard now?” your voice is quieter, conveying genuine curiosity.

his eyes snap to yours. “no!” do you really think a peck on the lips is enough to arouse him? “it was just a quick kiss…tch!”

“don’t act so offended! that’s all it took back then!”

“i was 14 for fuck’s sake!”

thing is though, you want to make him hard again. the thought that you’d had that effect on him back then - with just a simple kiss - sends a pang of desire coursing through your core. you get to your knees and inch closer to his side, diluc’s crimson eyes following your every move. putting your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, you lean in and place the softest kiss on his parted lips. 

he doesn’t even feel like he deserves to kiss you again. aren’t you mad at him? why would you reward him with such a sweet gift after what he’d put you through? 

you pull back just enough to look at him and whisper, “kiss me, diluc. like you mean it this time.”

he tilts his head, slotting his lips with yours once again as you both close your eyes. your mouths begin to move and diluc’s hand comes to rest on the back of your neck, his warm thumb ghosting over your ear. 

your mouths open, breathing each other’s air before slowly sealing your lips together again. you drag your thumbs down the sides of his neck as he cranes it to get closer, kissing you a bit harder. as if reading each other’s desires, the tips of your tongues brush together the next time your lips part and pretty soon they’re swirling in a slow, sensual dance. 

diluc’s hands drift down to your waist, pulling you closer to straddle his lap. you settle down, the tiniest of whines leaving your mouth when you feel his semi-hard bulge press into the back of your thigh. your kisses grow increasingly passionate by the second as though trying to make up for lost time. 

changing the tilt of his head to deepen the kiss, diluc wraps you into his arms completely. this time, there is no sign of him backing out. his confidence is sexy, his tongue intoxicating. your hands are in his hair where they’ve wanted to be for so long. he grips your back and pulls you flush against him. you roll your hips against him, making him moan in your mouth as you feel his building erection jump against the back of your thigh. 

diluc huffs and you find yourself on your back, legs still straddling his hips. your tongues push over and around each other, quickened breaths mixing together when he reaches down momentarily and adjusts himself. in this position his cock is now pressing firmly against your moistening center, making you keenly aware of how close your bodies are, how ready you are for one another. 

the sweet, breathy mewl diluc pulls from you when he grinds his clothed erection against your clit goes straight to his dick, making it throb for you in his pants. he ruts again, slowly, willing you to feel him, no longer shy and too far gone to pretend he isn’t aroused. he wants you to know he’s hard for you; needs you to know how badly he’s wanted you and for how long. you have no idea how many times he has whispered your name while lying in his own bed, eyes closed with his hands in his boxers wishing they were yours. more than that, though, he needs you to know how much he cares for you. 

diluc ragnvindr has never been a man of many words. but perhaps now, here on this grassy knoll, with your hands in his hair, his lip between your teeth, your hearts pressed together and pounding for one another - diluc can finally show you all the things he’s wanted to say.

one of his hands wanders the length of your waist, gripping your side as he massages his way down to your hip. he squeezes you there, making you sigh and roll your hips up to meet his when his thumb presses into the crease of your leg. you’re both panting into your open-mouthed kiss, lips red and swollen, impatiently trying to get closer and closer as though you can will your clothing out of the way.

but you’re too needy to wait until the fabric barriers can be worn down with time, so you take matters into your own shaky hands and start unbuttoning the collar of diluc’s shirt. with a grunt, he lifts himself up to help things along, quickly removing his shirt before reaching down to help you out of yours. you’re already working your bra off as your eyes traverse the expanse of his naked chest and sculpted abs. 

his skin is pale and smooth save for the dips between his muscles and the thin line of red hair beneath his navel. diluc’s fiery mane is draped over his broad shoulders, tickling your chest when he presses his naked torso to yours and recaptures your lips with his. he’s burning up, his blushing skin so very hot to the touch that you almost flinch. his scorching hand massages its way to your breast, squeezing and kneading it gently while he dips down to take the other into the wet heat of his mouth. you gasp, eyes rolling back as you arch your back off the relatively cool lining of his coat, pushing your chest into his touch. your hands are exploring his back, dragging the impressions of your fingertips across his pale skin, digging and pulling at him as if he could get any closer. 

blazing a trail of wet kisses along your neck, diluc’s lips find yours once again only to release a quiet moan inside your mouth when your fingers slide inside the front of his pants. he lifts his hips slightly, encouraging your exploration of his body, shivering as your digits thread through his coarse patch of hair before spreading around the wide base of his hard cock. you wrap your fingers around him, sighing at the feeling of his heavy girth in your hand; his hot, velvety skin sliding over the rock hard length of his shaft as you slowly stroke him. 

diluc hums, eyes screwing shut as he presses his forehead to yours, mind buzzing at the sensation of your soft hand pumping him. you work your way closer to his tip, pussy clenching at his deep groan when the edge of his glans catches on the opening of your grip. inside his underwear, you can feel the cool slick of his precum against your knuckles as more begins to coat the inside of your fist. diluc swears under his breath, moving his hips more quickly, unable to resist the sheer pleasure of your tight grip around his slippery cockhead. 

“mm-y/n,” he whispers, burying his face against your neck. “hhhh shit…”  

a few hurried thrusts later, you feel the rhythmic twitching of his cock and with a low, extended groan, diluc covers your hand with his warm release. you slow your pace but keep your fist tight, milking the last of his orgasm from his cock as his hot breaths come hard and fast against your neck. 

when he’s fully spent, he jolts out of your grip and huffs out a small laugh, indicating his sensitivity. you slowly pull your hand from his pants, leaving a trail of his cum along his stomach but neither of you care. 

“that was really hot,” you muse with a small smile.

nuzzling your ear, he mumbles, “can i touch you?”

your eyes slide closed, sighing. “i really want you to, yes.”

diluc leaves a couple of kisses on the corner of your mouth before raising up onto his knees. his chest rises and falls, still catching his breath as he unfastens your pants. you lift your hips to aid him when he curls his fingers around your waistband and works your bottoms down the curve of your ass and hips before ridding you of them entirely. 

you watch as he unbuckles his belt and removes the rest of his own clothing, biting your lip when his half-hard cock bounces out of his cum-stained underwear. he looks down at you, lips parted as his lust-blown vermillion eyes take in every inch of your naked form. feeling vulnerable and self-conscious, you close your legs and fold your arms over your breasts. 

“s-stop staring, diluc,” you mutter, looking away with a bashful smile. “you’re embarrassing me.” 

you feel his hands on your closed thighs, not pulling them apart but caressing them in an effort to make you feel less uncomfortable. 

“i’m sorry, it’s just-” he begins to stumble on his words but presses on, “...the way you’re glowing in the moonlight. you look like a goddess.” he leans down, letting his lips ghost over your skin as he whispers, “please don’t hide yourself; you’re lovely.” 

there’s no fighting the smile that spreads across your face at his words. you willingly open your legs and arms, pulling him close for a kiss. propping himself on his forearm, his other hand touches you, roaming your naked body, claiming every peak and valley, conquering you with his hands inch by scorching inch. 

he feels you tremble beneath him as the backs of his fingers rake along your inner thigh. you gasp, interrupting your lazy kissing when the pad of diluc’s thumb grazes your clit. he slides his digit down between your folds before returning to your tiny, engorged tip. he repeats the process a few more times, spreading your slick along your pink slit while driving you out of your mind. 

he’s dragging the tip of his thumb in little circles over your clit now, swallowing your whines, his full erection returning as you buck your hips for him. with his thumb still on your clit, he presses the tip of his middle finger against your opening, slowly pushing it in a little before withdrawing, back and forth until he’s knuckle deep inside your slippery heat. you’re gripping his biceps, hanging on for dear life while he drinks your moans and sighs, tasting the sounds of your pleasure on his tongue like a fine wine. 

“hhhhnn~ luc…” 

he moves to your ear as he works a second finger inside you, a pleased hum escaping him when he hears his name, laced with lust and desire, pour from your lips. there’s a deep ache building inside your lower belly that you’ve never felt before. diluc presses deeper inside you, reveling in the sensation of your slick walls clenching around his fingers. it feels like you’re chasing something but you need more. his fingers are providing a delicious stretch, but it’s just not quite enough. 

“diluc, please…” you whisper breathlessly, “...put it in.” he raises his head from your collarbone and meets your lust-filled gaze. “need you, luc. want you inside me~”

“you mean…” if you weren’t so drunk on desire, you’d laugh at the almost comical look on his face when he raises his eyebrows. “...my cock?”

you cup his cheeks in your palms and hum affirmatively with a breathy ‘yes’. “i want you…want you to be my first.”

“wait, you’re still…?”

you nod. “i’ve always wanted you to be my first everything.”

his heart blooms, swelling against his ribcage at your confession. with a furrowed brow, he kisses you. “i’ve always wanted the same; you’ll be my first too.” he slowly pulls his fingers out of you and squares his hips with yours, nestling his readied cock between your slick folds. “i’m sorry it took me so long to-”

you bring your fingers to his lips, shushing him. “better late than never,” you tell him with a reassuring smile as you press your lips to his again. your breath stutters when the head of his cock nudges your clit. “claim me, diluc.”

he deepens the kiss with a sigh, his cock leaking to mix with your need, getting slicker with every languid roll of his hips. he reaches between your bodies, his eyes darting to yours, watching for the slightest hint of discomfort or change of mind as he pushes his pink, drooling tip to your opening and begins to push inside you.

you both moan, fingertips curling into one another’s flesh as your tight ring stretches around his thick, virgin cockhead before finally surrendering with a soft pop. 

in all his fantasies of this moment, nothing could’ve prepared diluc for the intoxicating texture and heat of your cunt as it spreads around him. “so…” he sucks air between his teeth at your relentless clenching, “...tight.”

meanwhile, you’ve never felt such overwhelming pressure and fullness as his cock invades your virgin pussy. you hold your breath as the young, inexperienced male pushes deeper inside you, digging your nails into the skin of his back. the stretch is too much, too fast.

he halts all movement, crimson eyes widening when he hears the muffled whimper in your throat. “shit. are you okay? does it hurt?”

you wince, trying to soldier through the pain. you’ve heard that if it hurts you have to take deep breaths and try to relax; tensing only makes it worse. “a- a little.”

“maybe we should stop,” he says as he begins to pull out.

“no!” you blurt, hooking your ankles behind diluc’s thighs to impede his withdrawal. “no,” you repeat, more quietly this time, collecting yourself. “just…be still for a moment and i think i’ll be okay.”

“you want me to keep it in?” he’s watching you like a hawk for your reactions. the last thing in the world he wants to do is hurt you.

your eyes slide closed and nod, the pain already starting to give way to a dull, tolerable pressure. diluc waits, holding himself still as he kisses your face, his soft lips grazing your eyelids while he threads his fingers through your hair. your death grip on the flesh of his back subsides as you inwardly remind yourself to breathe. even when you move your hips a little, diluc keeps still, putting your comfort and pleasure ahead of his own feral urges, content to let you guide his pace. 

little by little, you work yourself further down his thick length until your clit rubs against the red thatch of hair around his base. the added stimulation sends a surge of pleasure through your core, that new ache returning, making you ready and craving just a little more. 

you kiss behind diluc’s jaw, just beneath his ear before murmuring to him, “make love to me, diluc.”

and so, on a cool blanket under the stars and moon, not too far from the vineyard with only the crystalflies to bear witness, you and diluc take something from each other while giving something far more precious in return. 

diluc’s hips undulate, rocking back and forth, his butt muscles flexing with each forward thrust. the crimson hair at the base of his dick is shiny with your slick as it rubs your swollen clit. your toes curl, heels digging into his thighs like a jockey spurring on her steed to go faster, faster. 

“more- nnhhm- more…”

he’s on his forearms, cradling your back, his hands framing your ears when he opens his eyes to look at you from above. “you sure?”

“please, yes, i need it…” your back arches, eyes closing when you feel your core squeeze him and you’re chasing that unknown something again. “need you to fuck me harder, luc.”

your lover's eyes widen momentarily at your direct, wanton words. he finds it incredibly sexy and briefly wonders how else your mouth might surprise him. he’s pumping his cock into you a little faster now, his hand cradling the back of your neck, the pad of his thumb ghosting along your jawline. 

“i need you to tell me if i go too far…” 

you nod, and he raises up onto his hands, caging you beneath him to give himself more leverage as he begins to thrust into you faster still. your moans and whimpers travel straight down his spine, urging him to go harder until you can hear the wet claps of skin, sloppy and lewd.

“gods, y/n…” diluc grunts, feeling that familiar coil winding dangerously tight at the base of his spine, searing and ready to snap. “i think i’m going to…” he swears through his moan as his balls tighten. 

as new lovers tend to do, he slips out of you unintentionally, his hot seed spurting in long threads over your belly. he’s still rocking his hips, dragging his jerking cock between your folds, smearing his cum along your pussy lips as more of it spills out. he’s sighing, trying so hard to be quiet, but as the last of his sperm dribbles out of his cockhead it catches and slides back inside you. he lets out an open-mouthed groan as your tight heat sucks his sensitive, cum-coated tip back in. 

but he doesn’t stop. 

his eyes are screwed shut, gritting his teeth to fight the overstim because your warm cunt just feels so damn good, his dick doesn’t soften in the slightest. 

you’re keening for him, making his toes curl with how sweet you sound for him, his name passing your lips in broken whimpers. diluc’s inhibitions are almost entirely gone at this point. he’s fucking into you with abandon, sloppy because it’s his first time. threads of his cum connect your bellies, joining you, hot and sticky. traces of it have mixed with your slick, making his thick cock nice and slippery as it drags and pulls at your tightening walls.

that something has been building low, so low in your belly. an ache so dull and so deep, a pressure you’ve never felt before. your squelching walls have been closing in with every delectable tug of diluc’s fat cock. 

“ohh…hhnn~diluc?” you keen. 

“yeah?” he pants, still thrusting, addicted to the soft, velvety slick of your pussy sucking him in harder. 

“h-harder…just a little harder…” 

he wants to get on his knees, push your thighs back, and fuck you properly, but this time is special and he would rather stay close to you, even through his haze of wanton lust and unbridled passion. so instead, he bends his knees out beside you, panting with the occasional grunt against the pulsing artery in your neck as he presses hard against your cervix with every pump of his cock. 

“gods, y/n,” he whispers, “you feel so…so good.”

he shifts, angling the curve of his cock just right against a spot deep inside you that you didn’t even know existed until now. the last thing you remember is watching the rich boy’s lean abs flexing, sweat dripping down his sides as he humps his slick shaft in and out, in and out, in and out. he drives you right up to a terrible height until you feel...

weightless. 

you’re hanging in the air just before the freefall when a sharp heat courses out from your center to the very ends of your nerves at lightspeed. you barely hear yourself cry out for him as your walls convulse and spasm around his length. he watches, wide-eyed as he fucks you through your first orgasm, slow and deep with full, passionate thrusts. the sound of his name falling desperately from your lips, the sounds of all your shared fluids - sweat, slick, cum, tears - they go right to his head as his hips keep right on snapping into yours. 

“gonna~ mmnnhh~ make me cum again~” a strangled groan escapes diluc’s open lips.

shame you’ll never get to see just how tightly his little asshole winks while his cock jerks his cum inside your pussy for the very first time, painting your walls creamy white. his thick seed leaks from your tight opening as you continue to glide on his cock from below. you kiss him, his quick breaths catching in his throat as he rides out his orgasm.

your lips graze as you both come down from your respective highs together, noses nudging between lazy kisses. diluc rolls off of you, some of his warm seed oozing out of you when his softening dick slips out. he rests his hand above your hip and pulls you to him until the side of your face is pressed against his warm chest, his heart still thumping at a fast pace. you place tender butterfly kisses against his flushed skin as he presses his lips to the top of your head. you lie there together, basking in the long-desired feeling of being in each other���s arms, two sweaty bodies shimmering in the moonlight as you mindlessly trace your names on the other’s back until diluc feels you shiver.

“come on,” he says, sitting up. “let’s get dressed and go back to my place for a hot bath.”

slipping your shirt on, you hesitate. “but…adelinde and the others…they’ll know.”

zipping his pants before shoving his soiled boxers into his pocket, he says, “they already know. they’ve been hounding me about us for years.”

you look up at him, a wide grin gracing your features. “'us'? really?”

he simply nods with a smirk, holding his coat open as you slip it on again. it’s heavy, but the weight is comforting and familiar, protective like armor. “i think nothing would make them happier.”

you help him fold your blanket before wrapping your arms around his waist. “will you carry me on your back?” you ask, standing on your tiptoes to punctuate your request with a kiss.

“of course,” he chuckles softly, kissing you back before turning around and crouching. “hop on.”

with your legs hooked over his arms, he carries you back to the winery. you prop your chin on his shoulder, catching your scent on him and giggling every time his hair tickles your face in the breeze.

✧:･.☽ ･ﾟ diluc m.list

✧:･.☽ ･ﾟ happy birthday to diluc! it's after midnight where i am, but it's still his bday somewhere! please consider reblogging if you enjoyed reading this. thank you, loves! 💋

[leiazsolo]

Regarding Tommy (AKA Stop hating him for the “Begins” episodes)

So I’ve been seeing a TON of hate for Tommy specifically because of his behaviour in the ‘Begins’ episodes and how he “shouldn’t be forgiven” so I’m getting fed up and decided to to a TIMELINE of Tommy & why we don’t need to be spoon fed his ‘redemption’ because we saw it across 10-ish years of flashbacks in the Begins episodes and can learn to understand that some stuff can just be implied with storytelling rather than treating the audience like babies and spelling it out for them. I will be starting with his first chronological appearance NOT his first on-screen appearance.

Starting Approx. 2005-2006 2x12 “Chimney Begins” now I’m not sure exactly what dates the episode here but google tells me it’s set around here, If I’m wrong let me know.

This was the big episode of Tommy being an asshole, I will not deny he was an asshole. He was one of the primary assholes of this episode along with the old captain. Let’s look at this episode with what we know about Tommy now, not what we knew then.

Tommy was a closeted gay man in a male-led, white-led field (presumably gay, we haven’t had his label yet) working under a captain we know is Homophobic, Sexist, and Racist. He also was a white man in a white male field back in 2005, prejudice was still a huge thing in 2005 (and still is but we’re not here to talk about that) and this episode shows this well, because it had to fit with the ‘times’. Tommy was an aggressor to begin with Im not going to deny this, but do you know who was also there, standing by and watching the rest of the 118 treat Chimney like shit for MONTHS? Eli! Yes lovey Eli who eventually helped get Chim into the field and let him stay with him in Boston. Yes he ended up being a good guy, but that doesn’t excuse the months he spent staying quiet watching the 118 mistreat Chim. You’ll see this theme pop up again later, funnily enough. Eventually we see Tommy and Chim become civil, after Chimney saves his life. He goes on to befriend Chimney, telling him his favourite movie is Love Actually (that’s fruity) amongst other things.

Fast forward to somewhere between 2009-2010 2x09 “Hen Begins” aka the next time we see Tommy chronologically and the first time we meet him in the show. We know a rough timeline as Sal says his girlfriend took him to see the new Twilight movie, and they reference the Edward vs Jacob, which means it’s most likely New Moon or Eclipse as that was more heavily a marketing thing for those two than the first one. This is also the first time Tommy is implied to be gay (He doesn’t deny the accusation and instead jokes about kissing Sal/Chimney) Now at this point in time I know this probably was not planned, but is something to look back at.

Tommy is this episode steps back from being an aggressor, he is still working under Gerrard and still closeted. He is still a part of the problem, but other than being present in the episode and in the scenes where Sal and Gerrard acted as aggressors, he didn’t actually contribute verbally to the mistreatment of Hen. The primary aggressor for Hen was Gerrard and remained to be Gerrard throughout the episode even when her co-workers saw her doing good things. And going back to Eli in Chimneys episode, guess who was also a bystander to Hens mistreatment, filling a similar role to Hen that Eli filled? CHIMNEY. He stood back for also presumably months, didn’t defend Hen against their co-workers, and just let what happened to him happen to her. Then, at the end of the episode it’s revealed multiple members of her team submitted complaints against their captain for the mistreatment of Hen, I’m willing to bet that he was one of those people, him, Chim, and even potentially Sal as he was less of an ass by the end. By the end of her episode we know they are now friendly at work and he thinks she’s a good firefighter.

Skip forward to 2014-ish, 2x16 “Bobby Begins Again.” We immediately see the team meshing, Chim, Hen, Tommy, and even Sal. 9 Years have passed since he met Chimney, and 4-ish since Hen and it’s implied they’re a friendly unit, Tommy is still closeted, and has been working under a rotating number of captains (six to be exact), but has clearly become a better, and more accepting person, the world is changing and he isn’t being held back with the times. He goes out for drinks with Hen & Chimney, laughs with them, has an overall good time being their friend and seeming enjoying working under Bobby for another 4 years, we even see them smash his face into a cake at a surprise leaving party they’ve thrown him. We know Buck took his place at the 118 which was not long before S1 began, so we’re assuming he left the 118 2017/2018.

This is the last time we see Tommy until 7x03, presumably set in 2023/2024 “Capsized”, a whole canonical 16-18 years after we first meet him, and 6 years since he left the 118. In those 6 years we know he:

A) is still friendly with Chimney, we know from 2x14 when he phones him to drop the fire retardant on the house. He is also mentioned to still be in contact in 3x16

B) Has come out/discovered his sexuality.

C) Is obviously not bigoted, or at least as much as he was back in 2005-ish.

In terms of Hen we can assume they haven’t really stayed “friends” since Tommy left, as she states in Capsized that she forgot he worked there. She worked with him for 8-ish years, I’ve worked with people for that length of time and don’t talk to them now, doesn’t mean I hate them, we just don’t really have reason to talk anymore. I just think their friendship was more a “we’re work friends” kind of relationship rather than a “we’re in each other’s lives” one, which is a completely normal and valid relationship. Whereas with Chim we know they’ve remained at least acquaintances to chat, and friends enough that Tommy would risk both his life and job to save Bobby.

At this point in the timeline it’s been approximately CANONICALLY 16-18 years since we met Tommy, and the fandom is still asking for his character to be held accountable for things he said all those years ago, when clearly in the canon of the show has been forgiven. At this point in the show I really don’t think we need to be spoonfed this narrative, it would feel clunky and weird to see an apology on screen for something that’s clearly been addressed off screen. It would frankly be a waste of the limited airtime we have this season.

I also think it’s super important to remember that Tommy wasn’t planned that far in advance, we know he was bought back by Minear because he wanted the person who was part of Bucks coming out to be someone the audience had already met before & Lou was both available and willing to do it. If they had been planning this exact storyline since season 2, maybe Tommy would have been portrayed differently, who knows.

I get we love Buddie and we want Buddie so much, I am not and never will jump ship from Buddie, I love that Tommy is Bucks first boyfriend, I just hope Eddie gets to be his last.

I’m also super glad we’re getting Bucks coming out separately from Eddies potential future coming out, I am on the (seemingly) small majority that thinks that would have been way too much to happen all at once, and also the characters deserve to have their own coming out stories not to be lumped together.

so yeah. TLDR; Tommy has evolved over 16-18 years, 10 years of which we saw across the Begins episodes, and if we want to be spoonfed his accountability for his behaviour in the begins episode, we should also be asking the same from Eli and Chim.

[mintjuliee]

Lin and Suyin - On Why Sometimes Love Means Saying "No"

In cases where you are raising a child, caring about them can often mean saying "no" or presenting as the opposition. This is particularly true when the child in question is displaying harmful behaviors.

The most blatant example of this between the Beifong sisters is the flashback in Old Wounds, wherein you see Suyin skipping school with a couple of other kids— a bag of items that they have likely stolen spilling over on a coffee table.

Teenage Lin confronts Suyin with a blatant look of disproval. Her inquires are met with:

"Oh no, are you going to tell mom? It's not like she is going to care."

ERRRT. Back up. What is really going on here?

A cry for attention.

It is not normal for a twelve year-old child to say that their mom is not going to care about them engaging in dangerous behaviors. I would even argue that the most important sentiment behind that statement is "she isn't going to care."

And what we see in the next flashback a few years later proves that Suyin was and is, in fact, testing the waters. She is now driving a getaway vehicle after a robbery. Her behavior is doomed to escalate, because it is not being met with any parental opposition.

How far can I take it? When will it matter?

This is the part where a parent should be stepping in to intervene. They should be trying to figure out what is lacking in the child's life or what they are seeking. However, what we witness instead is that this burden/role has fallen to Lin.

Mind you, in the first flashback Lin herself is a teenager. She lacks the experience or maturity to be dealing with a child displaying these behaviors, which is shown when she escalates the situation by insulting the two boys. And yet, she still tells Suyin :

"Su stop. You have so much potential. You're ruining your life."

In the second flashback, her words are:

"I'm not letting you get away with this." "So, once again, Su gets to do whatever she wants, and there are no consequences."

Lin is acting as a psuedo-parent in the absence of Toph. She cares about her younger sister and is attempting to show this by drawing a line. Suyin is lashing out against Lin like she would an authority figure.

Toph in this situation, I believe, would not be that concerned with Suyin's behavior, because she herself engaged in rebellious behavior as a kid. The key difference— and what I think Toph failed to realize in raising Suyin— is that she herself grew up with extremely strict parents from the get go. In Toph's case, breaking away from them and finding her independence was key to her growth. It was a good thing.

This is completely different from a kid being raised and allowed to do what they want from the beginning like Suyin. The lack of parental guidance and attention as a foundation produced an entirely different issue than what Toph faced.

"We didn't have a normal childhood. Neither of us knew our fathers, and Toph was always busy being Chief of Police. Because mom grew up in such a strict house, she gave us all the freedom in the world, hoping we'd figure out our own paths."

"That sounds like a good thing."

"And in a way, it was. But we both ended up fighting for mom's attention. Lin followed in her footsteps and became a cop. I was more of a rebel."

Bingo. Here we have Suyin admitting her rebellious behavior was attention-seeking towards her mom. Unfortunately, due to Toph being often absent due to her job, it would seem this behavior often went most noticed by Lin.

An older/younger sibling tale as old as time.

Lin and Suyin were both acting in accordance with the hands they were dealt. They were young. Mistakes were made. Lin should never have had to act as an opposition to her sister's behavior as a teenager; she should have been able to act like a kid herself. Suyin should not have been left to her own devices to the point where she is acting out to seek attention.

So, what do we arrive at? Compelling backstory for two middle-aged women, who present as awesome, strong characters 😎 Something rare in media, animation being more scarce. I love them so much. Almost as much as they love each other.

[eliza-and-her-monsters]

the tortured poets department

Info Post

Moodboards

Part I

Prev Part < - > Next Part

Contains/TW: damn okay… where do i begin because this is a WRECK. on a serious note though this chapter contains graphic depictions of self harm and suicide attempts so please please PLEASE be careful whenever you read this. i tried to keep it as vague and non-gory as possible to make it more accessible but it may still be triggering for some people so read at your own risk! this happens in a flashback specifically and is clearly marked with spaces and labeled with the month it took place (april) so you can skip past this part if you’d like! this also isn’t meant to be disrespectful or to romanticize these topics in any way! all things in which i am writing from personal experience as well. if you or someone you know is struggling please don’t be afraid to reach out for help. you are loved 🖤 (also serious stuff aside- definitely a lot suggestive at the end teehee we’re getting there.)

WC: 5.1k

part VI

this is me trying

The ice rink almost felt eerie so empty at night, especially had it not been for the motion sensored lights flicking on every time we entered a new room. Vi didn’t hesitate to hop the counter the moment we made it to the rental booth, already missing the feeling of her arm around my shoulders as I anxiously rocked back and forth on the balls of my feet. “So, what’s your size?”

“That’s a very bold question to ask a lady, sir.” I teased, attempting to put myself at ease as I leaned against the counter. “Six… and don’t make fun of me either.”

“Damn, okay, I’ll see if we have any kid’s sizes.” She laughed immediately causing me to raise both of my middle fingers with a glare.

“I said not to make fun of me.”

“I gotta give you a little bit of shit, who would I be if I didn’t?” She said with a wink that made my heart flip in my chest as she hopped back over the counter. “Here… with extra ankle support… for your sensitive-”

“These could be a pretty sick weapon, don’t you think?” I let an almost maniacal grin stretch on my face as I lifted one of the skates from her hands.

“Wow, first date and you’re already threatening me? That’s hot. Where have you been all my life?” Vi snickered as I felt one of her hands sliding around my back as she pulled me into her side. Her subtle displays of dominance and exertion of control. I wasn’t the one in charge here. She would make me think I was occasionally, but it was never true.

“Geez, how the hell do you guys walk on these things?” I questioned the moment I had laced up the rental skates once we made it into the rink.

“Well… 10 years playing hockey certainly does help.” She chuckled a bit before holding her hands out for me to take. “C’mon, I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall.”

“You better not.” I tried to tease, though my legs still tightened and shook the moment I rose up onto the tough blades. I encircled my hand around her bicep, cursing the moment she pulled me onto the ice. It nearly caused my arm to fly around her back until it was gripping her shoulder, nails sinking into the leather of her jacket. “Vi-”

“Hey, I said I’ve got you. Just breathe.” She looked amused, yet her smile remained soft all the same. Her hands drifted from my elbows to cautiously slide around my waist, a small shiver spreading over me the moment she pulled me in, the top of my head just barely grazing underneath my chin. “Just act like we’re ballroom dancing or something… I’ll hold you up.”

I let her pull me deeper onto the ice, my hands curling around her shoulders while I seemed to feel every muscle in her toned back while I kept my face tucked into her chest. “Were you this freaked the first time you went ice skating or-”

“No, it’s not like Ellie would’ve let me fall either.” I scoffed though instantly regretting the choice of words as I momentarily cringed. You have to stop talking about Ellie while you’re on a date, Amelia. “I just mean I was, you know, a-a little bit cocky the first time we went skating. Reckless, I guess you could say.”

“Wow, you actually taking a risk? I’m kind of surprised.” She lightly teased, just in time to reach for my hand to send me twirling like we really were at a ballroom dance.

“Vi!” I exclaimed, wobbling a bit on the blades before stumbling back into her arms.

“You didn’t fall.” She said with a cheeky smile, almost drawing a tiny laugh from my own lips before I let my shaking hands curl around her shoulders again. “So, what were you saying? You were reckless? Let me guess actually… you didn’t want any help so you wouldn’t let her hold you up. Because that I can believe.”

“Maybe you’re at least a little bit right.” My cheeks flushed before I briefly let my eyes roll. “I don’t know, I guess I just spent so much of my life needing to be held up I just- I wanted to be able to do at least something on my own. Even if it was just ice skating. But I got ahead of myself, I was tense and couldn’t balance to save my life so- I fell. Curled my ankle while I did it and I didn’t end up trying it again. I’d occasionally catch Ellie on the ice though because she stayed at our place before the school year started after we both got out of the hospital so… s-sorry I’m probably over explaining things.” I apologized with even deeper heated cheeks.

Vi’s gentle smile never departed as she simply shook her head. “Don’t apologize… I think it’s cute. I wanna learn more about you anyways so- tell me everything.” Her arms seemed to pull me in closer if that was even possible, muscular but soft at the same time. My chin brushing against her chest as I peered upwards at her. “It’s not like Caitlyn’ll tell me anything anyways so-”

“You’re asking my sister for information about me? Are you sure you’re not a creep?” I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh I’m definitely a creep.” She spoke shamelessly causing me to let out another giggle before resting my head against her toned chest, our bodies absentmindedly trailing around the rink in whatever direction she wanted to pull us. She could’ve pulled me straight into the ground if she wanted to… and I would’ve let her.

“I don’t know, there’s not a lot of positive stuff to talk about, I guess.” My cheeks heated hidden in her jacket as if in mild shame.

“You know, I did say I wanted to see all of the dark parts too.” She muttered, just in time to feel her hand threading through my hair as she held my head to her chest. “I’m not afraid, Mills, of any of it.”

I let out a soft sigh as I let my eyes flutter shut for a moment, I didn’t even know if there was a method to whatever direction we were going in. A pattern of some sort. All I knew was how easily her touch was managing to loosen me up, hands slipping low to slip around my hips though she still held me so close… and so innocently at the same time too. “Caitlyn… she- she means well. She’s just- I-I’ve put her through a lot.” I spoke after a moment of hesitation, catching my bottom lip in between my teeth.

“She made it her goal to learn everything she could about autism and adhd and whatever other diagnoses I had run into. For a second I almost thought she was gonna major in psychology instead.” I added with a weak smile, gluing my eyes to the ice below. “In doing all of that though I guess she started to think that everything else was a threat… and maybe she wasn’t entirely wrong, I-I don’t know. It certainly seemed that way after a while so… over the course of winter and spring things escalated. I-I was in a really bad place. I was drowning in rejection letters and my parents don’t really do rejection so there was that. More or less I felt like I was just, a ticking time bomb. Caitlyn took the brunt of all of my bullshit though, like she usually did or- does. And then in April I tried to- to-” the words halted in my throat, shaking, too scared to actually continue on for fear of what someone like Vi would actually think. How could you say something like that anyways? Something so drastic and so permanent without even a second thought.

“It’s okay… you don’t have to say it if it’s too difficult.” Vi only whispered as she let a gentle hand slip around the side of my face. Another thing that just felt like she was holding me to her, and possibly the only thing that made it possible for me to stand on my two feet.

“Looking back on it now… I know I didn’t want to die. I just didn’t feel like this planet was meant for me so it would be better if I just… didn’t stay.”

~

April

“Millie! Millie, it’s me- please please answer the door!” I swore it was one of the first times I had ever heard Caitlyn cry as she slammed against the locked bathroom door causing me to flinch as I drew myself towards the opposite wall. She had gotten there in a flash, but not fast enough to completely prevent any damage.

“Caitlyn don’t- don’t come in here- I don’t want you to see this.” I whimpered as I held a hand to my mouth. Deep down I was terrified. Horrified as I starred down at the mistake that I couldn’t undo. Selfishly, I wanted her here. I wanted her in here to hold me until it all went away. If she was she would try to stop me though, up until the bitter end she’d fight for my life even if I didn’t want it anymore.

“Fuck that.” I heard her curse from the other side through a sob as she slammed her shoulder against the door once more. “You’re not leaving, you aren’t fucking leaving me!”

���Y-You’re better off… you’ll realize it eventually, I promise!” It was getting harder to argue, to even keep my eyes open as I slumped against the bathroom cabinets. “Caitlyn please…”

I was in no condition to fight her off, to get her to push back. The door even started to buckle as she sent another strong kick towards it causing me to flinch once more. I should’ve known with all of her training if anyone could’ve gotten the door to break it would’ve been her. “You’re not leaving me, you’re not- fuck that.”

The door splintered at the last kick, my resolve starting to fade as the world was beginning to sound like it was underwater. Fuck, I really didn’t want to die. I really wanted to stay… selfishly and hopelessly. I wanted to get published. I wanted to meet new people. I wanted to have new experiences I was always too afraid to beforehand. Fuck, I wanted to live. I wanted to live so selfishly.

“I’m scared.” I choked the words out, trying not to look at the mess. The disaster that I had created. The embarrassment. The shame. Fuck, what have I done? What did I do? Could I even take any of it back once it was all said and done? Or was this all there was?

The door busted open with a loud crack as she tore inside, my eyelids briefly fluttering open as the first thing she went for was the first aid kit buried underneath the sink. “I know, I know, lovey… but we called the ambulance and they’re on their way you just- y-you just have to hold on a little longer for me, okay?”

“I’m sorry.” I choked out through a sob as she took my shaking body into her arms once she pulled out the first aid kit, nearly taking the entire sink out with her. “Please don’t leave, please… Caity, I’m scared.”

“I’m right here. I’m right here, darling. I’m not going anywhere. This might hurt, just take some deep breaths, okay?” She was the only thing propping me up, the back of my head lolling against her chest while she pressed the gauze to the wound. It didn’t even hurt as much as I thought it would… I just felt tired. All I wanted was to sleep.

My parents were angry in the aftermath, so Caitlyn took on the concerned parent role. The first person I saw whenever I opened my eyes in the hospital next as she brushed the excess hair out of my face. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, like she hadn’t stopped crying for a long while. And I committed that face to memory. My sister was the strongest person I knew, and yet I had managed to break her.

~

“Now since this is a long term care facility, we do come fully equipped with a courtyard, several hiking trails as well since we do believe sunshine and activity to be the best medicine.” The nurse drawled on as she lead the two of us through the long hallways. I clutched a cardboard box to my chest with all of my approved ‘personal belongings’ besides clothes and so on. Mainly just stacks of various books and diaries and such that I hoped they wouldn’t go as far to read through.

The bed closest to the door was already occupied, the green eyes of the girl widening before she sat up and quickly shoved the comic she was in the middle of underneath her pillow. “Oh, and this is Ellie! She’s one of our newer patients as well… she’s been hoping for a roommate actually.”

“Yeah, it gets pretty lonely in here without one.” She said with a tiny smile before pushing herself up to her feet and extending an eager hand to shake before awkwardly flushing at my occupied arms. “Ummm… I-I can help you carry your stuff in if you’d like!”

“I’ve got it, but thanks.” I spoke softly before shuffling over towards what I assumed was my side of the room.

Caitlyn thankfully responded quickly with an enthusiastic handshake of her own before Ellie could retract her own. “Hi! I’m Caitlyn, Amelia’s sister. It’s nice to meet you. I’ll probably be visiting a lot so you might see a lot of me too.”

“That’s great actually, we uhhh, we don’t always get a ton of visitors here.” Ellie added as she nervously wrapped her arms around herself before she noticed Caitlyn’s general confused expression and her eyes went wide once more, “Woah, Ellie, that was some serious projection there. Sorry about that… umm, I-I’ll give you guys some privacy to settle in and- yeah. I-It was good to meet you, Caitlyn.”

“Take care of yourself, Ellie.” Caitlyn added, watching her nervous figure slip from the room. “Well, she seems nice. I think you guys’ll get along.”

“Maybe.” I whispered, eyes still glued to the floor as if I was waiting for it to swallow me up. And I wouldn’t have minded if it did.

“Listen, I know this is gonna be new and- probably difficult but… I really do think this might be the best place for you right now. A long reset before college isn’t a bad idea and you might even meet some new friends also starting at Oxford too. I- I really think this could help you. I do.” She slipped her hands into mine, almost seeming like she was trying to convince herself more than anything.

“I hate it though… not being around you. I mean, I know that it was my own fault and I traumatized you and-” The tears were finally starting to come now that we were alone. Big fat shame-filled ones that she quickly caught before shaking her head and pulling me in.

“Hey, hey… this isn’t a punishment, okay? You’re not being punished. I promise, this is just some extra help and- an added precaution to keep you safe.” A shuddering sob spilled from my lips the moment I buried my face into her chest, keeping it hidden tucked away in her shirt for fear the second they saw me it only solidified the fact that I belonged here. “I know, I know it’s scary, love. Just hold on just a little bit longer for me, okay? You might even write the next greatest tragedy while you’re in here.”

I let out a weak tearful chuckle against her arm before shrugging, “Maybe, it’d definitely be fitting.” I sniffled, letting the tears soak into the fabric of her shirt. But she didn’t dare let go of me. “Caity, I- I really am sorry, for what happened. I- I really wanted to keep you from ever seeing it get that bad.”

Her quiet shush only felt like it was bringing out another wave of sobs. Meanwhile she just simply continued to rub soothing circles on my back and rock us back and forth on her feet just like she would whenever I was having meltdowns whenever we were kids. “Listen, I’m your big sister, okay? It’s my job to protect you. Not the other way around.”

“I thought we were supposed to protect each other.” I spoke, every last sob made me hate myself more and more by the second though. Every sob solidifying just how incapable I truthfully was.

“You can’t do that if you aren’t here.” Caitlyn sighed, finally prying the two of us apart before taking my face in her hands. “Can you?”

It was the first thing anyone had said about the situation that had made sense. For a while I was certain she was the only reason I hung on until I finally got close to Ellie. Even though it was sometimes hard to see where the improvement lie in the aftermath. And as much as Caitlyn would never say it, I knew it relieved a lot of weight off of her shoulders… me being in that hospital over the summer.

“I’ll be back Wednesday with all of the summer gossip, I promise. Also if you finish any of those books let me know and I can bring you more.” Caitlyn reassured me for the millionth time as she let me trail behind her towards the exit, a soft hand holding mine the whole time while I clutched onto her arm for dear life.

“Do you think you could bring me something like, dark academia maybe? That way I can get prepared for Oxford?” I wondered, gnawing on my bottom lip as each step seemed to make my heart ache more and more by the moment.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Caitlyn said with a tiny chuckle before placing a soft kiss to my forehead. “Call me the second you can tomorrow, okay? So I can hear about your first day?”

“Sure, promise.” I answered with a little nod of my own. It was almost embarrassing, being so reminiscent of a parent dropping their kid off at school for the first time. Caitlyn had taken on almost every role that my parents should have throughout the past few years. Yet another thing that only made me feel guilty.

“Okay, I love you, pipsqueak. More than anything.”

“I love you too, Caity.”

I tried not to hug her again before she left, an action that I could tell stung but in reality I just wasn’t sure if I would be able to pry myself off of her again. My face was red and blotchy by the time I made it back towards the room, eyes bloodshot, glassy, and tears that showed no plans of stopping just yet.

Ellie was already back on her bed once I made it back, knees hugged to her chest with a look on her face that I could only describe as puppy dog eyes. “Hey- are… are you okay?” She stammered, swiveling towards me as she dropped her legs to swing off the side of the bed before letting a soft sigh with a shake of her head. “Never mind, don’t answer that- I- I know you aren’t okay.”

“I’ll be fine.” My voice sounded hoarse from all of the crying as I took a seat on the edge of my own bed. Surprisingly not feeling like a lump of concrete as I wrapped my arms around myself, preemptively curling myself into a ball as if to prepare myself for where I’d probably spend the first week.

“For what it’s worth, which I know isn’t much because we just met but still…” Ellie began with a clear of her throat as she seemed to anxiously wring her hands in her lap. “If you ever wanna talk or- or anything really… I’m here.”

At the time I had no intentions of accepting her offer, nevertheless though I let myself nod before closing my eyes. “Thanks.”

~

Figures it would’ve been a nightmare that brought us together, I just never expected the codependency to kick in as quickly as it did.

I was still sleeping a lot during the day, not sure if it was a symptom of the depression, the infinite amounts of pills I was on or what. Every day we met with therapists, social workers, doctors, case workers, you name it. Not to mention there was also the group therapy sessions that weren’t mandatory. None of which I had managed to go to which probably wasn’t helping my case any. Ellie had seemed to be here long enough to make a decent amount of friends though. She was anxious, but infinitely more social. So if I needed to be social to spend more time with her I would.

So that afternoon I tried to rouse myself from my bed and shuffled towards one of the large community rooms they usually held group art therapy in. Every inch of me felt like it was shaking as I stepped into the filled room right in the middle of the several different conversations it felt like. Way too many eyes swept over towards my probably supremely tense figure than I was comfortable with. Ellie’s stuck out the most though, sat at a long table with a bunch of other rowdy girls where she was bent over a sketchbook.

“Millie! Hey! You finally came!” She exclaimed with a bright smile on her face as she quickly darted upwards to pull over an extra chair. “We were actually just working on our DnD characters because we all wanted to start a campaign this summer. You should join actually!” She added enthusiastically causing a girl with cropped ginger hair to wrinkle her nose.

“I thought you said we were full.” She sneered in a scottish accent already causing an anxious lump to form in my throat.

“Yeah, just like your file of public disturbances, Maddie.” Ellie shot back immediately causing a few of the girls to erupt in laughter as Maddie’s face went red with embarrassment.

“Jesus Ellie, just because it’s true doesn’t mean you need to say it.” A girl with shoulder length hair spoke up across from Ellie, and if it wasn’t for Ellie’s typical little half bun on the back of her head they could’ve almost been twins.

“Oh no, Max, I think she definitely needed to say it.” Another girl with also short but strikingly blue hair snickered from next to Max as she sat forward as if tuning into a dramatic tv show.

“Have you even played DnD before?” Maddie added, eyes scanning me up and down in a way that had me bristling.

“Uhhh no but-” I was interrupted by her scoff, already picking at the walls of my fragile emotional state.

“Oh get fucked, Nolan, it’s not like she’s playing DM.” Ellie rolled her eyes before I felt the weight of a protective arm slipping around my shoulders.

“Steph, you’re DM… you decide.” Blue directed towards a bored looking girl sat at the end of the table, a red beanie shoved onto her head and the outline of a hummingbird tattoo inked onto the side of her chest.

“I mean, one extra player is hardly going to derail my storyline so… I say the more the merrier.” She spoke with a shrug causing a weak smile to stretch onto my lips.

“Good, glad to hear it.” Ellie spoke before shooting what seemed to be a cocky smile towards Maddie’s rolling eyes.

~

Present

I seemed to disassociate in the process of telling the story. At some point Vi caught onto my shivering though and didn’t hesitate to pull me off of the ice. The two of us now sat in the empty yet fancy lounge for the hockey team complete with plush blue couches and the famous coffee bar Ellie had raved about earlier. I had apologized profusely, constantly wondering if I should stop, if I was going in too deep, Vi only encouraged me though. Even slipping a steaming cup of hot chocolate into my cold hands and draping her leather jacket over my shoulders. More of a gentleman than some men.

“Do you still keep in contact with any of those girls? Besides Ellie, obviously.” I heard her ask from behind me where she lounged against the back of the plush chair, calloused fingers tucked underneath the jacket as she ran her hands up and down my spine.

“Yeah actually… or I, I try to at least. Ellie’s more social than I am but a lot of the patients at that hospital are students. Or about to be either one. We even talked about starting a DnD club ourselves since nobody else has bothered to. And it’d probably be overrun by incels.” I chuckled a bit to myself before lifting the cup of hot chocolate to take a sip just as a small chill rushed through me. “You should join whenever we do.”

“I don’t know if it’s really my thing but Jinx and Ekko might be into it. You should ask her. Actually… definitely ask her if Maddie’s involved because I’d pay real money to see them duke it out.” Vi snickered with the soft smile remaining on her lips as she sat forward, “C’mere, let me warm you up.” I almost flinched again whenever I felt her big arms slipping around me from behind, a little gasp lodging in my throat as I placed a shivering hand over top of her forearm causing her eyes to soften a bit. “You okay? Sorry… I-I should’ve asked first, it’s a habit.”

“No, it’s- it’s okay… I’m trying to get more used to it- with you.” I said with a little nod as I tried to sink back into her warm embrace. Slowly letting the muscles in my body loosen one at a time as I let the back of my head rest against her chest, lolling against her thick bicep. She was surprisingly soft, every inch of the cold feeling like it was melting right off of me. From behind me I felt her chest rising and falling with each soft breath, enough to pull me to sleep right then and there almost.

“Baby?” I heard her whisper from above me, gulping another lump down my throat as I felt her calloused fingers brushing underneath my chin and along the curve of my jaw. I tensed again for a moment, my hand wrapping around her forearm with my nails nearly sinking into her flesh in mild anxiety. Let her. Just let her touch you. It’s okay. Let her. “Shhh, I’m not gonna hurt you.” She spoke, probably feeling the shuddering breath I let out against where her arm stayed wrapped around my front. “Can I kiss you?” She whispered, a little flush spreading on my cheeks at the way she still asked.

My eyes widened almost eagerly as I nodded, body consumed with heat just as I felt her lips brushing against mine. Soft at first, arms almost feeling like they were consuming me entirely as they tightened around my body. My hand shook as I lifted it to rest against her head, tangling through her surprisingly soft hair as if I was pressing her further into me. I almost whined whenever her lips disconnected from mine, instead only drifting over to trail along my jaw as if in a pattern.

With every kiss my breathing grew more and more shallow, a small gasp catching on my lips as I felt her lips wrapping around the pulse point of my neck. I almost wanted to slap a hand over my mouth in embarrassment at the way a moan prodded at my lips, fingers curling into her hair as that same ache flared up in between my legs. “Vi-“ Her name seemed to fall from my lips with a whimper as her teeth lightly prodded at my skin.

“Does that feel good?” She whispered, and I seemed to feel my head shifting to give her more access as I nervously and probably awkwardly nodded. Another soft moan spilled from my lips the moment I felt the pinch of her canines against my neck.

Her hand curled into the excess fabric of my sweater, tugging at it as if she wanted to pull it right off. Slipping underneath, her callouses drug along my stomach, my sides, towards my hips, brushing over the bones like she wanted to trace them all the way down. “Vi… please.” The words came out through the airy moans as she continued to let her hand explore my body and her lips decorate my neck in repeated kisses. My head arching against her chest in need, almost leaving me tugging at her hair.

“You know I can’t fuck you in here, right, baby?” She whispered into my neck, giving my hip a subtle squeeze that also left me gasping.

“Then take me to where you can fuck me.” I almost didn’t recognize myself with the words that came out of my mouth as I shifted around to face her. Her hands still staying firmly on my waist meanwhile she only seemed to have a smug expression on her face as she settled back against the arm rest of the couch.

“You want me that bad, princess?” She spoke with a quirked up brow, a delicate finger tracing along the curve of my waist. My hands curled around her shoulders in frustration, certain she could almost feel my thighs tightening around her waist. I was probably a whiny mess as I nodded, the warmth of her hand nearly covering the width of my back.

“Please… Violet.” I knew saying her full name would tug at her. It was usually aggressive whenever other people said it, angry, a sign she had fucked up or pissed somebody off. Whenever I said it though it was needy, a plea almost. I slid my hand from her shoulder to press against her chest, almost like I was trying to grab at her heart. Sink my fingers through her ribs until I could feel it beating in my hands, and I swear I almost felt it quickening the moment I did.

“Fuck it.” I heard her whisper underneath her breath just before I could feel her pressing her forehead to mine. “Wanna go back to my place?”

A/N: okay SORRY SORRY i had to edge you guys 😭 i promise this next chapter we WILL be cranking it up a notch and there might even be some smau vibes as well so… stay tuned please?? </3

i’m so sorry for the emotional rollercoaster and if this isn’t the best as well because i definitely think it’s far from my best work but c’est la vie can’t win them all 😭 love u anyway lesbians!! 🖤

Taglist: @sawaagyapong @autisticgirlkisser @macamilarofe @nombreuxx @snowbunnyboo @lils-1979 @myrrus @baylegend6 @withyou-withoutthem @lil7-I @cloudy-fay @liliwritin @primarina-diamandis @soodle-noup @livil589 @riches-expresso @deepobservationcherryblossom @pixieolives-blog @roseannih @fernanda-2022 @clefairysoup @cherrybomb2298

click HERE to join! 🖤

[lurkingshan]

Japanese QL Corner

This week we begin our farewell to two brilliant shows and welcome a newcomer. Of the shows airing now, all but one are streaming weekly on Gaga and the other is available via fansub.

Takara's Treasure

gif by @my-rose-tinted-glasses This was the final week for the main story (don’t despair, we get a special episode next week), and the show wrapped up our core romance arc beautifully. At its heart this is a simple story between two boys seeking connection and working up the confidence to pursue what they want without fear. We spent the first half of the show grounded in Taishin’s country mouse in the big city journey, and the second slowly peeling back Takara’s layers until we understood just how mutual their affection is. I was so impressed with the show’s steady, patient approach to revealing this character to us, and I love that through knowing and liking Taishin (perhaps even more than 100%), Takara is getting more comfortable with himself, reaching for what he wants, and having genuine moments of joy. I’m also excited for him to get to know Taishin’s family and feel some of the warmth and support he’s been missing. Looking forward to whatever glimpse of their future the show gives us next week.

Happy of the End

gif by @putterphubase

We knew this one was going to be dark, and hoo boy is it. Content warnings for the first two episodes:

Assault, child abandonment, childhood sexual slavery, domestic abuse, family violence, human trafficking, rape, sexual exploitation

We meet our main characters this week and learn the basics of their backstories (though there are still gaps that I expect will be filled in later on). Both of these men have lived hard lives, and it shows. They are not particularly good people, neither of them responds normally to the situations they find themselves in, their emotional wavelengths are often odd, and there is a recklessness to their behavior that speaks to a kind of ambivalence about survival. They recognize something in each other that draws them together, but even as they share their stories and spend time together, there are barriers between them. This story has a fairly bleak worldview, so I don’t expect it will follow the usual romance beats and I’m not counting on a happy ending. @bengiyo pointed out that the show seems to be narrated from a future perspective after the relationship ends, and @illgiveyouahint said the show feels “gently hopeless” which I think is a rather apt description of its tone.

This show is beautifully shot and feels steady and clear about its subject matter, but its themes are not for everyone. Proceed with caution, and ask for content warnings if you need them—I expect there will be difficult content in every episode. This one is dropping two episodes a week on Gaga, and there is also a fansub ongoing from @isaksbestpillow. Siiri’s subs will likely be more accurate, but I recommend at least background streaming on Gaga to make sure the show gets the official views.

I Hear the Sunspot

gif by @heretherebedork

I have already talked plenty about my current feelings of frustration with this show, so I won’t belabor the point. This week Taichi dropped out of university to go work full time at his new job despite his friends’ protests, we got a long Maya flashback and another instance of her clashing with Taichi, Kohei and Taichi continued to not say anything honest to each other as they said their goodbyes, and Kohei confessed without Taichi processing it yet again. The final episode appears to include a time skip, and then maybe they will have the conversation we’ve been waiting on for six weeks. Fingers crossed the finale makes all of this time spent in stasis feel worth it.

Note: I have to get this up early today due to my travel schedule, and at time of posting episode 7 of Mr. Mitsuya's Planned Feeding was not yet available with English subs. I imagine @isaksbestpillow will post sometime soon and I will share when it goes up and include final thoughts in next week’s round up.

Tagging @bengiyo for the anime update.

[mackeydoodledoo]

She Wears Short Skirts, I Wear T-Shirts: Chapter 7

Pairing: Bridget (Cheerleader AU) x (Fem!)Reader

Chapter Summary: 4 Years.... You hadn't seen her since high school. You really haven't kept in touch with anyone since. You've always been forcing yourself into your music with your bandmates. At the end of another local show, a familiar face faces you again...

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, 2nd Chance Slow-Burn

Chapter Key: Italics = Thoughts, +*+ = Time Skip, F/n = Friend's name, B/n = Band Name, Bold/Italic = Flashback

Chapter Theme: I2I - Magnolia Park/Disney

A/n: If anyone has heard of 'A Whole New Sound', specifically the chapter's theme - it's amazing.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

*Y/n's POV* You rush off of the stage and head to the merch table to help F/n's girlfriend as a line of people begins to build.

It felt odd being back home...

Since graduating high school, and the tour right after the fact, your band moved to the city, and put out an EP. F/n and her girlfriend are engaged...

Life's crazy.

Popularity was steady. You go to other towns to open, and open at venues in the city...

+*+

You help her break down the merch stand as your bandmates bring the packed stuff to their cars.

"Great show," A very familiar voice makes you stop in your tracks

"Oh... It's you..." F/n sighs, rolling her eyes, "You might want to take this one..."

As if you didn't have a guess on who it could be. F/n takes the last merch bin from your hands as you stare blankly into the car via trunk.

"Y/n, I know you can hear me," Her voice says

You slowly turn around, stiff. However, lightly gasp.

It was Bridget...

Only...

It definitely didn't look like her...

But it was her.

Her pink hair? Gone.

Bright, peppy style? Watered down to less brighter clothing.

"Bridget...." You say

Awkward silence other than your condensed breathing...

"That's all you have to say to me?" She asks

You shut your friend's trunk and brush past her.

"I don't have time for this right now Bridget," You wave her off over your shoulder

"But, I do," She says, following behind you

"You can speak now while I finish upbringing these out," You say, picking up one last container

"No, I want to speak to you face to face," She says

"I can't bear to look at you right now," You sigh, putting the container in the bassist's truck bed, "Now go home. I'm sure Hook isn't pleased you're here to see me."

"Yeah... About that..." She sighs

"What?" You scoff, "Hook cheat on you or something?"

You turn when she doesn't answer right away. So you turn to look at her but the tension in your body goes away when you see her nails nearly clawing at her elbows, and her lip quivering.

"Get in," is what comes out of your mouth

I might regret this....

She walks over to your passenger seat and gets in with no other words exchanged.

"Y/n!" F/n whisper-hisses

You look over and see them throwing their arms in the air; 'what the fuck?!' written on their face. Your face contorts with; 'I might regret this..' You walk to the drivers side and get into it. You drive off from the venue, going to your go-to late-night food stop.

"Ahh, Y/n, long time no see," The manager smiles, "I'll get your usual ready."

"I have Bridget with me too," You say

"Ahh, I'll get her usual ready as well!" He adds

The sliding door closes for a moment before he opens it to take your card to cash out the order.

"You know, in the last four years, Bridget comes to this place and orders whatever she got the first time you've brought her here," He tells you, giving your card back

You sit and wait for him to bring back the food.

"Hook never approved, so I had always gone here on my own when I'm home for the weekend," Bridget confesses

"Of course he didn't," You sigh, "It's practically soul food. Really hits the spot after a long day."

+*+

After getting food, you stop in the downtown pavilion.

"How often do you come home?" You ask, "Just to eat this food?"

"Mostly every weekend..." She answers, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve, "Part of me hoping to see you here...."

"Well, if you must know, I have my own place in the city now," You say

"Is that so?" She sighs, sounding sad

"Well, I'm not driving back there tonight," You add, "Need a bit of a scenic change..."

"Oh... What about your music?" She asks

"We're kinda taking a break," You answer, "We've just been doing our local shows. Had to cap off ticket sales when we hit the capacity."

"Well, lucky me then," Bridget says, "I try to get into the small, local shows... But, only been lucky this one time..."

"Oh... You still follow our socials then?..." You say

"You sound upset about that..." Bridget says

"No, I'm not upset. Just surprised about it," You clarify, "You know, after Hook, at least from what I've seen, wouldn't let you listen to anything pertaining to the band. Especially me. If it's okay to ask, what... Happened between the two of you?"

She puts her food down and sighs, trying to find where to begin...

"You really don't have to start way back when," You say, "Just when you found out or whatever..."

"Okay," She says, "Basically, I walked into his apartment, wanting to surprise him after I came back from my culinary internship.... Saw a girl sitting on the couch next to him; his arm wrapped around her any everything..."

"Ouch," You say

"Blocked him on everything," She continues, "But, saw his pathetic apologies before then."

Well, now she knows how I felt about simply seeing her with Hook after winter break...

"How long ago?" You ask

"Last month," She answers, "At least, I found out last month."

"Ouch, harder," You sigh, "You two weren't living together right?"

"No, I wanted my own place," She says

"Must have been hard for Hook," You say, "Or not. I don't know."

"Might not have been," She tries to not cry

"Where'd your pink hair go?" You ask, changing the subject

"Felt too connected to high school," She says, wiping emerging tears

"Come on, you were the most popular girl in the halls," You say

"Ended up not feeling worth it," She says

"Hmm... Is blonde your natural hair color?" You ask

She nods, "Who in their right mind would go around, saying that their natural hair color is pink?"

"No one," You chuckle, "Do you... Still do cheerleading?"

"Yeah, at Auradon University," She answers, "Not the captain but it's nice not having so much responsibility on your shoulders for a change. You should come to a game. The girls would be ecstatic to find out I know someone in a bad they love."

"Oh?" You ask, "They love my friends and I?"

"Oh, absolutely, I never hear the end of it," She says, "I wanted to say that I went to high school with two of the members, but I got scared that if I do, I'd be asked so many questions. I also hadn't seen you until tonight..."

"Hmmm..." You say, "Well, I just might make an appearance. I have to make sure it'll fit into my schedule."

"You would do that?" She asks

"Why not make them jealous?" You joke

+*+

You pull into her driveway... Taking you back down memory lane.

"Thanks for... Driving me home," She sighs into a smile

"You're welcome," You slightly smile, "I'll possibly see you around."

As you reach back home, you greet your parents, and head off to your room. As soon as you flop into bed, you see a text from F/n.

Dude, are you serious? What? You seriously drove around with Bridget?! I thought you weren't on a talking basis with her. She revealed some shit I'm not disclosing. It seemed pretty serious. Ugh I cannot believe you sometimes. My life, I'll fuck it up my way. Just.... Be careful this time. I will.

You throw on your pajamas and see a text from Bridget.

Hey... Hey, you doing okay? Yeah, I just wanted to ask if you were doing anything tomorrow. Not that I know of. Why? There's a fall market somewhere in the city that I've always wanted to go to. Care to join me? Oh the Central Fall Market. Sure. I can take you to one of my favorite places down there too. I'd like that :) See you tomorrow Yeah. Goodnight Y/n, thanks. For what? A lot of things.

You plug your phone in and adjust yourself into your bed comfortably and lay there until your eyes grew heavy.

+*+

You put on your warmest jacket.. You were kinda excited to finally go to the market, but nervous on how it will go with Bridget.

"Careful honey," Your mom says

"You know I will," You say

You drive a few doors down to her house; Bridget waiting for you on her porch. Almost immediately she runs to your car with barely any time to put the car in park.

+*+

You find decent parking and the both of you begin walking to the marketplace.

"Have you been here yet?" She asks

"Not yet," You answer, "I'm really more about the oddities things, not the cutesy market kind of thing."

You watch as she rushes to a random stand....

"Hey I'm going to look around a bit," You whisper in her ear

She turns to you and nearly gasps at how close you were to her face. Your eyes move to her lips but quickly move back up to her eyes. You clear your throat as you walk to the stand that caught your eye.

You see crotched things. You pick up a few of them and hand the vendor your money.

"Thanks Y/n," They say

"Oh, you know my name?" You ask them

"I follow your band," She mentions, "Been to a few shows here and there. Ya'll are a vibe."

"Thanks," You simply say and then walk away

You walk back over to Bridget, who was now eyeing some bar soap. You tap her shoulder and she turns to you. You hold up a paper bag and the second she looks into it, she squeals. In the midst of her excitement, she gives you a kiss on the cheek. You stand there as you watch Bridget happily moves onto the next area.

+*+

The both of you find a hot chocolate stand and you buy to chocolate for the both of you. The only open seating was a loveseat in the corner, near the window.

"Sorry," She says

"For?" You ask, trying to keep yourself composed as much as possible

"Making you uncomfortable," She says, "You're all stiff. That's not good for the cold."

She swings her arm around your shoulder and leans you back into the couch with her.

"I've kinda missed moments like these," She confesses, "Hook never wanted to do the simple things like these.... Saw them as boring and rather go to a party instead."

"Have you gone to some?" You ask

"A few... The types if parties he takes me to... Aren't for me," She says

"That sucks," You sigh, "What kind of thing... Do you like?"

"Simple strolls through the market," She gestures to what the both of you were doing, "The simpler things. You're a whole celebrity, and yet you're making the time to do these things."

"Well, like I said, my friends and I are on a break from music," You clarify, "Performing is on a 'need openers' basis."

"Still, you're the popular one now," She chuckles

"I don't care about popularity," You say, "People here know when to treat a musician like a regular person. They'll acknowledge me, ask for a photo or auto here and there. But, have yet to be stalked."

"Hope not," She says, "About the stalking part."

"Hmm..." You sigh, leaning onto her shoulder

The both of you watch as people begin filing out to the city.

"Hungry yet?" You ask

"A little, yeah," She answers, "Taking me to that place you were talking about?"

"Yep, come on, let's get food," You stand, holding your hand out to her

You watch as she slightly smiles, takes your hand and stands up after you.

+*+

You park your car in the lot and get out, waiting for Bridget to follow.

"Hey Y/n!" The hostess greets you as soon as you walk in the door, "Just you again?"

"Actually...." You say, stepping to the side, revealing Bridget

"Oh! You've finally brought a date!" She grabs a few menus, "Follow me."

"Date?" Bridget whispers, following behind you

"Oh, it's nothing," You try to play it off

"We're one of the only places open late, so she always comes here," The hostess continues talking, "She mentioned someone she had a crush on, hoping to bring her here one day."

"Okay thanks!" You raise your voice

She snickers and she walks away.

"What was that about?" She asks, sitting across from you

"Since moving here, I've needed to find a new post-concert food stop over here," You explain, "This is the place."

"Cheating on your hometown post-concert food place are we?" She teases you

"Hey, doesn't count if I'm not there all the time," You argue

"Fair point," She sighs

The both of you order food.

"What did the hostess mean by 'you finally brought a date'?" She asks

"Like she said, I mentioned wanting to bring a specific person here," You say

"Is that... Person me?" She asks

"Maybe, maybe not," You take a sip of your drink

*Bridget's POV* She chuckles as she leans back into the chair and sips her drink. You look at her wrist; a tattoo.

"I noticed you had a sleeve," You point out, "What is it?"

"You'll see eventually," She replies

A waitress comes with some food and she continues leaning back in her chair.

"What?" You ask

"Take the first bite," She tells you, "I want to see your reaction."

You take the food off the plate and take the first bite. Your mouth waters as you take another, and another...

*Y/n's POV* "See?" You chuckle, beginning to eat, "Hits the spot after a gig down here."

"Does this place have any other locations?" Bridget asks

"Not that I know of. Hey, W/n, is there any other locations of this place?" You call your waitress over

"Probably in the next city over.... Auradon, I think," She answers

"Oh! I'll have to check out that one too," Bridget says, 'I attend Auradon University."

"Ugh, that prep college for rich snobby kids?" She scoffs

"Hey hey, Bridget, isn't a rich snobby kid," You defend her

"I'm so sorry Y/n," She raises her hands in defeat, "I didn't realize that your girlfriend... Was..."

Your eyes widen and you give her the stare of; 'go.' So she doeskin most likely going to figure out how to earn your forgiveness.

"Girlfriend?" Bridget blushes

"She's at Vill Isle University," You explain, "Auradon's biggest rival."

"I don't care about being called rich or snobby," She says, "She called me your girlfriend."

Of all things....

"Sometimes people say things under stress," You explain, "Plus, they all like me in here. I'm basically a regular."

The both of you finish dinner and begin driving back to your hometown.

"We have a show coming up next weekend in the city if you want to go," You say

"I'd love to," She replies, "But, it looked like it was sold out..."

"I can get you an all access pass," You blurt out

"You'd... Do that?" She asks

Kinda...

"Yeah," You say, "You'd have to just give them your ID to verify you're the person that's on the list. I'll get it taken care of tomorrow."

"Thank you," She says

You walk Bridget to her front door.

"Thanks for today," She says, "I honestly needed it."

"Good," You sigh

"I'm sorry," She says

"For?...." You ask, as if you didn't have a guess

"High school shit," She says

"Don't worry about it," You say, rolling your eyes, "That was awhile ago and-"

"No, I need to apologize for it," She says, "There-there had been a lot and-"

"Hey whoa slow down," You say, cupping her cheek

She stops...

"Why don't we talk about it another day then?" You suggest

She nods.

You sigh as you gently kiss her forehead. You saw the flush flooding to her cheeks. You clear your throat as you slowly retract your hand, putting it back down to your side.

*Bridget's POV* "Uhm, goodnight Bridget," She waves you off

You watch her leave your driveway and back down the road. The feel of her forehead kiss lingers.

Chapter 8