#year and a half made me lose hope over and over again until i couldn’t bear to have hope anymore that’s why. and now i guess i can again but

[pepprs]

also cringefail double vent posting over things that are not actually that big of a deal once again lol but i am so fucking miserable today in ways i don’t even know how to articulate. i need to move out. i know exactly where i want to live but they raised rent $300 and i can’t afford that but i want to live by myself so badly but my parents are adamant that i can’t bc i can’t drive and im a “diminutive inexperienced young woman” and i want to punch something. i read half of the drivers manual and cried reading it which is fucking stupid bc it s just the drivers manual. but i want to move out so bad. i hate sharing a room with my sister and im not getting the new room anymore bc we don’t have money to finish it up bc my mom is still sick and no one knows what’s wrong with her and she has to get all these tests. i never have a space i can go to that’s just quiet. i don’t want noise. i don’t want to block out noise with more noise. i want QUIET. i don’t want to be afraid to go into rooms or hear noises i don’t want to hear. and i don’t want to be living here for the three extra months it’ll take me to ng et my permit. im just done. i don’t want to live here!!! and things at work suck and are exhausting and draining and so unbearably overwhelming and i feel terribly lonely and disconnected from everyone and small and scared and i don’t have energy to fix any of it or explain what’s going on or ask for help or get a therapist or whatever. and i keep pulling muscles in my neck. and i want to go to sleep!!!!!!

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Yandere!Lee Minho x F!Reader TW : yandere themes ; basically a forced pregnancy ; late term pregnancy complications ; Minho is like, the worlds worst narcissist in this ; let me know if there's more ; Word Count : 6.9k A/N : The amount of research that I did for this one is crazy, but I also learned a lot so... building knowledge while writing fanfic is a plus! This request has been in my ask box for probably over a year and a half now, so... I hope that whoever requested it... I hope you enjoy! (Also, this was supposed to end WAY worse... But you all weren't ready to be sucker punched with sadness, so...) Request : Anonny : Pregnant with yandere leeknow/ yandere leeknow as dad Aaaangst

In The Beginning…

“Minho…” You called timidly from the bedroom, the way you called for him was about the same volume as when someone would talk regularly to a friend. When you spoke it was nothing more than a mouse-like whisper, always scared of what would happen if you raised your voice a little too much. Your doting boyfriend came into the bedroom, his hair tousled and wet from his shower, his eyes always seeming to carry a seductive look, dark and hungry for you at all times. “M-Minho…” You spoke his name again, this time more nervous now that he was standing in front of you. 

A chuckle built in his chest as he sauntered over to you, water wrinkled fingers that were warmer from the hot water he had been standing under, trailed across your cheek, one finger slipping under your chin to tilt your head up as he towered over you. “Mm? What do you need, darling? Are you hungry? Thirsty? I know that last night was quite… exerting for you…” He teased, and you felt your body heat up at the mention of the sinful activities you had taken part in the night before. 

“Uhm… n-no…” You stammered, blinking a few times as you seemed to lose your train of thought constantly when he was standing so close to you, looking at you as if you were a delicious meal that he couldn’t wait to get his hands on. “We… We didn’t use protection and… Usually you’d get me a… a plan B pill and… I just was wondering if you had gone and… and gotten it by now?” You were always so nervous around him, still not quite sure what made him tick. One second he was happy, or at least he seemed happy, and then the next he was going through an outburst that had you locking yourself in the bathroom until he came to the door apologizing and giving you the same spiel that he would never do it again. You hated when things got like that, you tried to avoid getting him to that point at all costs. 

“I decided you don’t need it anymore.” Minho spoke nonchalantly, as if he was the one who could make that decision for you. Your mouth opened to protest, and he stared at you, waiting for you to say something, anything that would give him a reason to lash out. It’s like he wanted a reason, he wanted to go off on you, like he enjoyed seeing you scared, enjoyed being the hypocritical hero when he comforted you after making you cry. “Think about how wonderful it would be, to have a part of me growing inside of you… you’d be mine, all mine. You’ll never leave me…” His hands moved down to your stomach, as if there was already something in there. “I’ll pick up tests in about 2 weeks, I want to be right here when you take them and read the results.”

The First Signs…

Sitting at the dining room table, the chicken still in your mouth after you had taken a bite, an awful sensation washed over you. A sort of sickness that you couldn’t fight back, and an urge to throw up that you couldn’t breathe your way through as you usually would. “Mm’scuse me…” You mumbled through the palm of your hand that was clasped over your mouth as you ran to the bathroom, slamming the door behind you, not even bothering to lock it as your body practically folded over the toilet. 

“Darling…” Minhos soft cooing from the other side of the door had goosebumps forming on your skin. When he cracked the door open, you could see a rather excited smile beginning to spread across his face. “Are you alright?” The juxtaposition of his expression and his words made your head reel. He looked too happy for someone who had just watched their girlfriend throw up all of their dinner. You nodded your head in response, making sure the contents of your stomach were cleared out before taking a few steps to the sink and washing your face and then rinsing your mouth out with water. “I thought you loved that chicken… Hmm, I wonder why it would make you sick all of a sudden…” 

He stepped into the bathroom fully now that you were done being ill, the nausea seeming to be completely gone now, as if it hadn’t been there at all. You knew exactly what he was insinuating, and while it might seem that way, you weren’t ready to accept that it could be what he was thinking, you didn’t want to accept it. “I think they just changed the frying oil or something…” You excused, dabbing at your lips with a bit of toilet paper before exiting the bathroom, Minho right in tow. You couldn’t be pregnant, that would make him all the possessive, all the more obsessive and overbearing. You wouldn’t be able to ever leave, not that you were able to do that now anyway, but it would be so much worse. You probably wouldn’t even be able to look at the windows without him lecturing you. No… pregnancy wasn’t an option for you. 

As you stood at the sink, getting a glass of water from the tap to wash out the taste, Minho stood behind you, his hands placed gently on your stomach. It was the softest he had ever touched you, but you knew that it wasn’t exactly for you, it was for the little demon spawn that he assumed was inside of you. “Does my baby not like the fried chicken? Hmm? Whatever you want, daddy will get it for you… As long as your mommy tells me.” How could he sound so sweet? It was gag inducing, how he pretended to be so caring when he was practically trying to hold you hostage using a potential child. 

The next days were the same, the sudden nausea not even having the common courtesy to creep up on you, instead, hitting you full force, barely allotting you enough time to run to the bathroom or the trash bin to vomit. It didn’t matter what you ate, each day at the same exact time, it was always the same. You could see the light in Minhos eyes growing brighter each time it happened, but you were in denial, and you quite liked being in that state. You didn’t want to accept that there was a very real, very high possibility that you were now carrying his spawn. “I must be coming down with something…” You mumbled, resting your head in the palm of your hand, suddenly feeling exhausted, as if you hadn’t slept in days. It was another sign, another symptom, you knew that, but you hoped that Minho would overlook it. 

“Well it has been 2 weeks, more than that actually, my darling.” The smile that he was was nothing short of sinister as he ran to the bathroom and returned with two boxes in his hands. You knew this time was coming, you had been dreading it, hoping that you would get your period at any moment now. It never came though, and you were terrified of what the tests would undoubtedly reveal once you took them. “I’m sure taking them would answer a lot of your questions… Here…” He slid the boxes across the table, but you refused to even look at them, instead staring out the window, trying your best to block out everything that he was saying. You didn’t want to be pregnant, not by him at least. How could you even be happy bringing a child into this type of lifestyle? “Darling…” He murmured the pet name softly, but rough hands suddenly gripped your chin, turning your attention to him fully. “Take the tests. Now.” 

You huffed loudly, pushing yourself away from the table and snatching the boxes up before rushing to the bathroom. You knew well enough that if you didn’t get there in time and lock the door, he’d probably try to come in and watch you take them just to make sure you weren’t fabricating the results. It would have been a good idea, but you knew he’d notice. There was no way you could just run the test under the sink water and pretend they were negative. It’s not like he’d let you go if they were anyway, he’d just keep trying and trying… and once you started showing… He’d probably be more pissed off that you lied to him. 

“You’re taking quite a while in there… Do you need help?” The question was genuine, but you glared at the door, knowing that he wouldn’t see it. It was the only time you could make those kinds of faces at him without being reprimanded for it. The tests laid on the back of the toilet seat, and much to your dismay, the second line showed up faster and darker than you ever expected it to. “Fuck!” You thought to yourself as you unlocked the bathroom door and flung it open, slipping past him as he rushed in. He was too preoccupied with being excited over the tests to focus on you, at least for right now. All you wanted to do was sleep and hopefully wake up from the nightmare that you had been living in for the last 3 years. 

The First Trimester… 

There was no bond forming. For the most part, you tried to forget that you were pregnant at all. It was easier during this stage. Other than the nausea and the exhaustion and the slight pulling and pinching sensations you’d feel in your lower back and upper thighs, all things that you could write off as any other reason, you didn’t feel pregnant. You were still in denial, you didn’t want this. Minho wanted this, and he was the only one happy about it. This was the happiest you had seen him though, he was absolutely elated, but he was also overly protective, which was becoming a real pain in the ass. 

“I can get dressed on my own.” You muttered as he sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to help you pull down your shirt after you had just put it on. “I really don’t like the hovering, it’s making me uncomfortable.” Were you allowed to be honest with him now? Would he excuse it as your hormones going crazy because of the baby? He wouldn’t yell at you, right? Not when you were in such a fragile state. He reached out further, grabbing your wrists, rather tightly, and pulled you towards him. Of course, he wouldn’t dare try to be so rough anywhere around your stomach, but everywhere else was still fair game. 

“You’re carrying my child, and as long as you are, I can hover as much as I like.” He hissed, and even though you didn’t like his tone, you were grateful that he wasn’t yelling. “I know you don’t want it. You’d probably be overjoyed if you miscarried. I won’t allow that to happen though, so just be good for me, let me help.” His expression immediately shifted, his head tilting to the side as the most innocent looking smile had his teeth flashing up at you. It was like whiplash, it made your head hurt. “So what would my babies like to eat today, hmm? Are you craving anything in particular?” He cooed, although his attention was still primarily focused on your stomach. 

Any other woman would want a man like him, a man that treated them this way and got this excited to find out they were pregnant. Any other woman could have him and all of his psychopathic tendencies. “I’m craving a nap.” You snapped, and you watched his nostrils flare out at your disobedient tone, but he didn’t say anything, instead getting off the bed and yanking the covers back for you, waiting for you to climb onto the mattress before carelessly throwing them back over your body. “Thank you.” You mumbled, rolling over onto your side so that your back was to him, tucking the covers around your chin and squeezing your eyes shut. It wasn’t just the raging hormones that tired you out, it was Minho too, him more than anything honestly. Living with him, well, no, not living, being stuck with him, was the most exhausting thing ever. 

“I’ll wake you up for your vitamins and for lunch.” He said sternly, more like a strict caregiver than the father of your unborn child. You hated him. You hated that he did this to you, that he chose you to be the object of all of his desires. Why did he choose you? He still hadn’t told you why, he just insisted that you were the one that he wanted. Now you were carrying his child, and you feared that you’d truly be stuck with him forever. What did you do to deserve that? 

The Second Trimester…

Most women would get an ultrasound at around 9 weeks. However, you had yours at 20 weeks. You didn’t go to a doctors office, instead, Minho had the doctors come to you. Even still, he didn’t want you leaving the house. Before the doctor was even allowed to see you, he had to sign an NDA, with Minhos reasoning being that he was an idol, and he didn’t want the public to know about his fiancées current condition. You still didn’t know when you had gotten engaged, but apparently it had happened at some point before the doctor's arrival. 

Seeing your baby on the screen made it impossible to deny that you truly were pregnant. It also made it hard for you to hate it as you during your entire first trimester. Was it truly the baby’s fault that their father was crazy? Did it’s fathers behavior make the baby inherently evil? No… of course it didn’t. The baby was still a part of you, and you were a good person. You wouldn’t allow your child to grow up to be like Minho. “It’s a girl.” The doctor said, pointing to the screen as if you’d understand what you were being shown, but Minho was mesmerized by what he was seeing, his jaw slacked in awe. 

“That’s my daughter… Our daughter? Really? Is she healthy?” It was Minho asking all the questions that most women in your position would be asking. You were too caught up in your own thoughts though. A baby girl, you were carrying his daughter. She’d be more like you, right? Maybe having a daughter would change the way he is, he’d become normal, a man that you could actually love and welcome having a family with. He wouldn’t want his own daughter to be with a man like himself, right? 

The doctor turned up the volume on the little tv, a rapid pulsing sound filled the room, both you and Minho were silent as you listened. “She’s healthy, very healthy.” The doctor said, smiling to both you and Minho. You were… happy. A single tear rolled down your cheek as you stared at the screen, watching the baby squirm around, and you couldn’t wait to be able to feel her moving beneath your skin. “I’ll print out the pictures and then be on my way. I’d like to make another appointment for next month though, make sure she continues growing the way she should. I also want some bloodwork from you…” He motioned towards you, and you swallowed thickly, looking at Minho who looked slightly annoyed at the doctor's pushiness. “Don’t worry, there’s nothing wrong, we just like to make sure that there’s no underlying problems. Better to be safe, right?” 

His words had you tensing up, your hands moving down to your stomach, rubbing over the small swell that had begun to form as your daughter grew bigger. “Why… Why would there be underlying problems? What could be wrong?” You squeaked out, not wanting to look up at the doctor, worried that his expression would give you a silent answer, one that you were scared to know. Minho was still, like a statue, only his eyes moving between you and the doctor, but there was no answer, just a soft sigh and a gentle tapping against your hand to try to calm you. The gesture was supposed to make you feel better, but you heard Minhos teeth gritting together. 

“It’s just precautionary. This is your first appointment since you’ve gotten pregnant. It’s to make sure both you and the baby are healthy and that there are no problems now or in the future. From what I see though, you and your daughter are perfectly fine. You have nothing to worry about.” Your hand was held lightly by the doctor who offered you a reassuring smile, but before you could thank him, Minho was, quite rudely, ushering him out of the room and shutting the door. On the other side of the door, in the hallway, you could hear Minhos aggrivated voice, low enough that you couldn’t make out what he was saying, but you could feel it, reverberating through the walls and the floorboards. He was talking so fast that the doctor didn’t have a chance to speak, and before you knew it, the front door was slammed shut and then Minho was storming back into the bedroom. 

“Touching you… Holding your hand… Who the fuck is that guy?!” Minho growled as he shut the door behind himself, pinching the bridge of his nose as he leaned against the door. “You don’t need any more fucking doctors. You were doing just fine without them. There’s nothing else we need to know anyway. Our daughter is healthy and that’s what matters. There’s no need to have some touchy ass fuckwad coming in here, looking at you… Ugh!” You could see the heat radiating off of him, he was beyond angry, he was absolutely irate, and while you didn’t want to push him any further, what the doctor had said prompted you to speak up. 

“Min… Honey…” It was an attempt to soften him up, you never called him that, not unless you were trying to get him to agree to something. Most of the time it never worked, but it at least would keep him from going off as rashly as he would without the pet name. “What if there is a… a problem… I think we both should know. We don’t need to keep him as our doctor… We can find someone else… But I think the bloodwork is important.” You sat up on the bed, trying to get a better look at him, trying to read his expression, but he was completely blank. “Minho…” You tried to get his attention, unaware that you already had it fully and he was just deep in thought. 

“No…” His hand was held out, one finger up to silence you as a chuckle was huffed out of his parted lips, his breaths coming faster and faster as he pushed himself away from the door. “I know what you’re doing. I know what this is…” The pet name didn’t work, nothing would work, he was already angry as it was and you were simply making things worse. “You want him to come back… You want him to take you away from me. That’s what you want. I know you! You’ve wanted nothing but to leave since you’ve been with me! He can’t have my fucking daughter! And he sure as hell can’t have you!” He climbed onto the bed, straddling you and holding your face between his hands. It wasn’t exactly painful, maybe you were numb to the pain it might have caused at first, but now you just found it annoying. “What do I need to do to make you stay!?” He shouted, his breath fanning across your face with every word. It’s like he was using all of the air in his lungs to enunciate every syllable. 

“Minho, stop it.” You whispered, knowing that the wrong word, a wrong look, saying it in a way that he didn’t like, it would only have him spiraling deeper and he’d drag you right along with him. “Please… h-honey look at me… I’m not trying to leave you… I just want to know that me and the baby are healthy, that there’s nothing wrong. I don’t want anything to happen to either of us… I want her… Honey, I want a family with you…” Sure, you were really sugarcoating it to try to get him to calm down, but you also really needed to know that everything would be okay. The last thing you wanted was for something to happen to you and him blame your daughter for the rest of his life or vice versa. 

His hands dropped down to your shoulders, his body now shuddering, although you didn’t know if it was because he was about to cry or if he was just shaking with anger. It was always hard to gauge his reactions or how he was truly feeling. It had you on edge all the time, and you felt like a tiny rodent, cornered by a feral cat. “Nothing is going to happen to either of you…” He mumbled, his head hung low, his hair curtaining his face. “Stupid fucking doctor, putting that shit in your head, scaring my darling…” This wasn’t what you wanted, his anger once again shifted towards the doctor who was just trying to do his job. “Do you really think I’d let anything happen to you and our baby?” You shook your head, of course he wouldn’t let something happen to either of you, not because he cared, but because he couldn’t fathom the thought of not owning you anymore. “You’ll be just fine, darling. You’re overthinking what that jackass said.” And with that, it’s like all of the anger washed away, a sudden wave of calmness rinsing him clean of the negativity. “Let’s get something to eat. My girls are hungry, aren’t they?” He pressed a kiss to your forehead before shifting off of you and off of the bed, grabbing your hand and carefully helping you up to your feet. The sudden shift had you feeling dizzy, but it was welcome, at least he wasn’t yelling at you. 

The Third Trimester… 

Something was wrong, although you weren’t sure what it was. The ongoing nausea, the headaches, the blurred vision, you knew there was a problem. All you could think of was the argument that you had almost 15 weeks ago, wanting to at least have bloodwork done to make sure you were okay, but of course Minho had denied you of the simple procedure. If anything happened to you, it would be his fault, but he wouldn’t look at it that way, no, it would be someone else’s fault, it always was whenever he fucked up. 

“Someone’s tired…” He whispered when he walked into the bedroom where you were still laying. It’s not that you were actually that tired, you just couldn’t move without feeling sick. When he pulled open the curtains, you squeezed your eyes shut, groaning loudly as the bright sun only amplified the raging headache you were already suffering through. “Sorry, darling. Can’t lay in bed all day. Gotta get you up and moving. Come on.” He yanked the covers back and his eyes landed on your feet which had become so swollen you could barely even fit them in your slippers anymore. “What happened?” He whispered, although there was a slight panic in his voice as he gently grabbed your ankle and lifted it, looking over the extremity for any signs of injury. 

“I think… I think…” You kept starting the sentence only to be left practically winded after only saying two words. “Problem…” You settled for one word, hoping that it would get your point across and that he’d take some kind of action. He blinked a few times, backing away from the bed, his hands running through his hair as he seemed to be fighting an internal battle with himself. “Please…” You pleaded, your hands cradling your swollen stomach. If not to help you, at least to help your baby who he seemed to want more than anything. 

“Shut… Shut up! I’m thinking!” He screeched, suddenly pacing back and forth as his breaths came out sharply, sounding more like whistles as they came through pursed lips. “Why would you let this happen! What even… God dammit!” He shouted, his fist colliding with the wall in an act of frustration, and even though he was fully across the room, you jumped at the sudden act of violence. He would never hit you, no matter how mad he got he had never actually hit you, but when things got this bad, you always feared just how far he would go or how far gone he was. “What am I supposed to do?! Take you to the hospital?!” 

Yes. Yes, that’s exactly what he was supposed to do to keep both you and your daughter from potentially dying. “If I could just… have her… get her out… we could be… okay…” You said breathlessly, and he whipped around in your direction, his eyes wild and crazed. It truly seemed like he was losing his mind. “Min… I don’t want t-… to die… please…” You begged, the sudden onslaught of tears only making it harder to breathe. 

“Fuck! You think I want you to die!? You think I want that!?” He questioned, and soon his hands were back in his hair, tugging at the ends as he let out a loud scream. “This is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it! It’s what you wanted to happen! You wanted to leave me so bad! You’d rather die than be with me!” He was once again blaming you, yelling at you for something that you didn’t even understand at the moment. You didn’t know what was happening, so why the hell was he attacking you for it? “Such a fucking bitch! God! Fuck! Get up!” You were being… belittled… insulted… cursed at for… dying? At least if you did die, you wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore. You wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore. But did you really want to leave your poor baby with someone like him? 

Getting up was a daunting task, it took you longer than it usually would just to swing your legs over the side of the bed. Every small movement made you feel like you had run a marathon, your breaths becoming more labored, your vision becoming spotty, and the urge to vomit became more of an oncoming threat as the bile from your otherwise empty stomach rose to your throat. There was no time to get to the bathroom, you weren’t even on your feet yet, and before you had any time to even warn Minho, you were doubled over, heaving up the acid that burned your throat on its way out. He watched, not coming close or helping you, but he watched, his lips parted and his eyes blinking rapidly as if what he was seeing wasn’t true. “Sorry…” The word was spoken in a single raspy breath, your head hung low with both shame, embarrassment, and pain. Your throat was scratchy now, and it felt like fire was being held against the back of it. Tears pricked your eyes and snot ran down your nose, stopping at your upper lip, and you didn’t even have the energy to wipe that away. 

“What happened…?” He asked, his voice once again soft, laced with the false tone of worry. It used to make you think he cared, but now you knew it was an act. It was all an act. “Let’s… Let’s go…” He said, his voice wavering. He truly didn’t know what to do, but he knew that he didn’t want to do this. It’s not like he had a choice though. You looked awful, like you were already standing at death's door, and that terrified him. He had seen you sick before, but he had never seen you like this. “C-Can you walk? Do you need… Uhm… Shit…” He was tripping over his words, but when he saw you try to get up on your own, he rushed over, his arm wrapping around you. 

Looking at you this close, he could see that your face was swollen too, and beads of sweat lingered on your forehead. “She hasn’t moved… Min… I’m- I’m scared…” You whimpered, and he pulled you closer to him, letting your body fall against his side, trying to take all of your weight as he walked you towards the front door. “Min…” You breathed out his name, your head falling against his shoulder. He hummed to let you know he heard you, grabbing everything he needed with one hand as he walked through your shared apartment. “If you have… to save any of us… save her… save the baby…” You wheezed, all of your weight falling against him, everything that he had been carrying was dropped immediately to catch you. 

“No… no no no! Stop talking like that! Stop it!” Minho shouted, his voice trembling from the sobs he tried to hold back. “I’m not losing either of you, dammit! I-…” He sniffled softly, and while your eyes had been closed the entire time, trying to block out the light that shone through the window in the living room, you could feel his eyes on you. “I love you… You know that, don’t you? I’m not… If anything happens…” The thought was stopped before he could get the words out, but you were stuck on the three words he had said prior. Love was such a strong emotion, you hadn’t felt loved the entire time you had been with him, and he had never said it before now either. Did the thought of you being gone forever make him change? If you did make it through, would he go back to the way he was before? Maybe death was the only escape… 

I’ll Make You Stay… 

There was no way the doctors would make him choose… It couldn’t be that serious. You were absolutely fine, right? He hadn’t noticed anything wrong until today… or were you just that good at hiding things from him? Why would you hide something like this from him? Were you afraid of him? Why were you scared of his love? He just loves you so much! What’s wrong with that? He wanted you to be with him forever, he wanted you to be his darling, why did you make it seem like that was so awful? He’d show you that you could be happy, that he could make you happy, you just had to stay with him, you had to stay. 

“Why can’t I go in?” Minho asked once again to the nurse who slipped out of the room. Each time he said it he was more irritated than the last. He just didn’t understand. What could be so wrong that he couldn’t be there for the birth of his daughter? Every time, the nurse would just sigh, getting more agitated with him. “I’ll just go in then. You can’t keep me from seeing her. That’s my wife, that’s my daughter! If you won’t tell me what’s going on then I’ll just-“ 

The nurse cleared her throat, although it sounded more like she was groaning. He tried not to let it bother him the way it usually would. He had far better, far more important things to worry about than the bitchy attitude of the nurse. “She didn’t want me to tell you. I’m trying to respect her wishes. She wanted to be alone.” The nurse explained, but it only stirred up more questions in Minhos now overactive mind. What was the reason behind you wanting to go through this alone? Did he not have a say in being able to watch his daughter be born? It was unfair, and once everything was over with, he’d be having a talk with you about how rude and humiliating it was for him to sit out in the hallway while you were delivering his child. He opened his mouth, not even to speak, just to breathe, and the nurse started talking, as if she assumed he was just going to continue complaining. “Both of them are not well. The last thing I wanted to do was go against what could possibly be her last wish. Are you understanding now, sir?” 

Your… last wish? It sounded like you were dying… It couldn’t possibly be that bad… Is it? Why would you want to be alone during a time like this? How could you leave him this way? Do you not even care about his feelings? It’s like you want to make him miserable! All he wanted was to have a family with you, to make you stay with him forever, and now you’re trying to get away by dying!? You were so selfish! Why couldn’t you just be healthy?! He had done everything right. He made sure you ate and had your vitamins and did daily exercises and that you always got enough sleep. If anything happens to you and the baby… It would be your fault! It would all be your fault! 

“An early blood test would have shown that this was a possibility. It would have potentially kept this from happening. If she was getting proper appointments, this would have been caught before it got this bad. Who was her OB?” The nurse asked, her clipboard resting against her forearm, her pen held in her other hand, as if she was waiting for the information to jot down. The mention of your doctor had his mind pausing for a split second… This is why you needed the bloodwork done? Why had no one told him that back then? Why was he not informed of the risks that would come along if the bloodwork wasn’t done? This still wasn’t his fault though… No, the doctor should have talked to you and him more about the benefits of getting early bloodwork done. 

It was the doctors fault… If he hadn’t been so touchy with you, it wouldn’t have been such a big deal for him to come back and do the bloodwork. It was all the doctors fault, and if something were to happen to you or the baby… Minho would make sure that the doctor paid for it. He told the nurse the doctor's name, trying not to let his smile break through the mask of sadness that he was wearing, but it was hard. The thought of getting that guy to potentially lose his job, it was nice, and he couldn’t help but feel a little… overjoyed, knowing that if anything were to happen to you and the baby, it wouldn’t be in vain, at least the doctor will suffer as well. “I guess I’ll… wait out here…” He said, the frown once again returning to his face as he dropped down into the chair beside your door. It was still hard not being in there with you, knowing that so many people were looking at you, touching you… He felt like he was going to lose his mind, and the only way that he was keeping himself slightly sane was by constantly telling himself that he could potentially lose you and his daughter if those doctors didn’t help you. 

He was in and out of sleep the whole time, his head falling against the wall and his eyes drooping shut, only for them to shoot back open whenever an alarm would go off, looking up at the light above your door to make sure it wasn’t for your room before drifting back to sleep once more when he realized it wasn’t. It had been hours, he finally stopped counting after the seventh, when the door finally opened and one of the nurses, different from the one before, walked out. There were dark circles under her eyes, she looked frazzled and exhausted, but there was no urgency, there was no sadness… Was everything okay? Would he be able to keep you and his daughter? “Sir…” She started, and Minho sat up straight, his eyes hopeful as he looked up at the nurse. “I don’t want to sugarcoat anything, I don’t want you to get excited just yet… Although your wife and the baby are… alive… That doesn’t mean that things are… okay.” It was like all of the hope was drained from his body immediately, even after hearing that you were alive… How could you still not be okay? 

“Well… what’s wrong? What happened? I mean… I need some information here!” He was trying not to get worked up, but the way the nurse seemed to be beating around the bush was highly aggravating. For Christ's sake, he’s your boyfriend, the father of the child, and she was talking to him like he was some nobody. He deserves… No, he needs to know what happened! “How is she not okay? Is the baby okay? Come on, tell me something, dammit!” He didn’t care if she was tired, or if she was emotionally worn out after helping you. That’s her damn job, and part of it is telling him what the hell is going on. 

She sighed loudly, clearly not happy with the way that Minho was talking to her, but he didn’t really care for that either. He wasn’t even allowed in the damn room, the least she could do was tell him what had gone on while he was locked out in the hallway. “The mother had preeclampsia which advanced to class one HELLP, which I will not go into full detail about, a simple google search will tell you what it is, but I will say that she had the most severe case of HELLP that I have ever seen in my years of working here. We were at a point where we worried that we would have to choose whether she lived or the baby lived. She had to have blood transfusions before we could even deliver the baby, she was in the early stages of kidney failure, and while we were in the process of trying to help the mother, the baby went into respiratory distress. We had to do an emergency c-section, which wasn’t easy because we were worried about hemorrhaging, which did in fact happen. The baby is currently in the NICU, she is underweight, we have to do tests to check her platelet count, she’ll most likely be in the NICU for a couple of weeks, and that’s minimum, especially if her platelets aren’t normal. The mother needs to stay because we have to make sure she doesn’t have any other underlying health issues, and we need to monitor her closely because the first couple days after delivering a baby with HELLP syndrome could be fatal. So yes, the mother and the baby are alive… But they are in no way, shape or form, okay or healthy enough to come home anytime soon. Does that answer your questions, sir?” 

Minho didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know where to start. He didn’t understand anything that had been said to him, all he knew was that it was bad and that you wouldn’t be going home with him. How could you let things get this bad? Why didn’t you tell him? Surely you must have felt ill or something when this was all going on? And that damn doctor… Why did he have to touch you? Why did he have to make him so angry? If he had just been a normal doctor, he would have been allowed to come back and do your bloodwork. This all could have been avoided! It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t! How was he supposed to know that something like this could happen?! He had never read anything about this online! He didn’t know something like this could happen! It wasn’t his fault! 

“Anyway…” The nurse spoke once more, taking Minhos silence as an opening. “She’s resting, they both are. There’s going to be doctors in and out of the room constantly, so, if you’d like to go in there, you can, but I wouldn’t expect to get any rest. If I were you, I’d honestly just go home, get some sleep, and come back in the afternoon. They’re not going anywhere, it’s going to be a long road ahead of the both of them… And you need to get as much rest as possible to prepare for it.” And with that, she walked away. He was left alone in the hallway with his thoughts, the faint sound of a heart monitor beeping just beyond the closed door to your room was the only sound he could really focus on. 

You were alive… You had stayed… You weren’t leaving him. He would have his family, and he would have it with you, his perfect darling. Nothing like this would ever happen again, he had his baby girl, and he had you. The two of you were all he needed. Once he had you and his baby back home, he’d make sure he never had to let you out of his sight again. You were going to stay with him, he would make you stay. That’s why he wanted the baby in the first place, and in the end, he still got exactly what he wanted. 

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[areyouwell]

Thanatophobia

Noun: An extreme and irrational fear of losing somebody you love. Children or adults with this condition tend to steer clear of any form of relationship, haunted by the possibility it could be ripped away from them.

Ch.6

Ch.5,5, Ch.5, Ch.4, Ch.3, Ch.2, Ch.1 <--

Paring: Logan Howlett x Mutant!F!Reader

Warnings: MDNI, explicit content, brief description of rape, extremely fucked up timelines cuz i can't do maths but just like, go with it? for me? pls?

Word Count: 13k

A/N: whew boy was this chapter tricky. not to go into too much detail about my personal life but i actually managed to trigger myself writing this so please please please be aware that this could be difficult to read if you're an SA/Rape survivor cuz yeesh... was this tough

Taglist: @badbishsblog @reidsworld @idioticstar @toogaytofunctiondangit @ghostyv @wolviesgirl @over-bi-the-wayside @justice4billiam @holyhumorliteraturelight @cxptainbuck @sseleniaa @sadslasher13 @yallgotkik

Settling into your new life hadn’t been as difficult as you’d thought. Perhaps it was because you’d spent the last two years away, but you didn’t miss the mansion as much as you thought you would. Sure, you missed Kitty randomly barging into your room, and you sincerely hoped someone had explained to her at least some of what was going on, but the feeling faded fairly quickly within the first few weeks. You and Logan fell into routine domesticity a little too easily. He taught the correct way to aim a hunting rifle, nestling the butt of the gun into the nook between your shoulder and chest. He taught you how to follow deer tracks, what to look out for when estimating how far away the game is, and which tracks not to follow under any circumstances.

You, on the other hand, started teaching him a passion you’d forgotten you’d had until you found yourself with too much time on your hands. Or at least, a passion you’d forgotten was planted in your memory… was it your passion, or just a passion you thought was yours? Every time thoughts such as these rose to the forefront of your mind, you tried to push them away. They never yielded any answers and just served to send you spirally. Logan usually caught your faraway stares, the way your eyes glazed over as you dissociated back into your mind. He’d bring you back with a gentle call of your name, hands tilting your chin up to look into his eyes. 

The first time you’d slid your sketchbook across the dining room table, Logan’s eyes welled up slightly. Sure, he’d stolen glances at you whilst you huddled on the window seat bench, charcoal staining your fingertips black as you elegantly swiped it across the paper, but he had no idea you were sketching him. When you’d asked him what he thought, he couldn’t find the right words and ended up with you perched on the kitchen counter, his head between your thighs, pouring his awestruck gratitude into eating you out. Since then, you both took time out of your days to sit with each other and you taught him everything you knew. As it turned out, he wasn’t half bad. At least, that’s what you exclaimed with a slightly insulting amount of surprise in your voice. He’d always brush off your praise, comparing his work to yours, but he couldn’t deny the pride that bloomed in his chest.

Logan had learnt not to ask after your well-being too often, finding that you would huff in irritation if he mentioned it more than once a day and remind him that you weren’t that mentally unstable. After a month of settling in, you’d mutually decided to start training again, heading out into the woods a little ways and finding a safe, exclusive spot on the lake shore. Plenty of shadows around between the tree line and the water, it was perfect. Though, not that it made much of a difference. The progress you made was second to none, barely managing to make the darkness shift a fraction before you’d grit your teeth and attempt to stamp down your frustration. 

The days grew colder as the months went by, leaves fading from lush, vibrant greens to crinkled, burning oranges before dropping altogether, coating the ground in a blanket of crunchy fire. It was your favourite season, autumn. The sweet scent of mulch wreathed your senses with every kick of the chilly breeze as you stepped from the warm cabin thankful you’d donned a knitted scarf around your neck, two mugs clasped in your hands. Amongst the many other things Logan had taught you, how to make the best cups of hot chocolate may be, in your opinion, the most useful. Small marshmallows melted atop the surface of the drink as your boots crunched along the gravel, eyes drinking in the sight before you.

He was made for this life. Leather jacket discarded atop a stack of logs, he’d rolled the sleeves of his brown flannel shirt up to his elbows, the hood of the truck propped open and his head ducked far into the depths of the engine. You mentioned you thought the spark plugs were going a few days ago, but he brushed off your concerns. It wasn’t until he’d received a call from the local garage about a bike part he’d requested and he went to leave that morning did he realise you were right after the truck misfired almost instantly. You tried not to be too smug about it.

“How’s it going?” Logan looked back as he heard your voice and approaching footsteps, withdrawing from the depths of the hood and swiping his hands on the dirty rag over his shoulder. A warm smile pulled at his lips as he saw what you were carrying, and he thanked you with a quick kiss, taking the mug you’d offered to him. 

“Well. you were right,” you pursed your lips as you tried not to smirk wildly, failing miserably when he rolled his eyes. “Yeah alright. ‘Scuze me for asusmin’ you didn’t know what you were talkin’ about. Anyway,” he continued pointedly and you giggled lightly. “Todd rang, he’s on his way with a few replacement plugs, since the damn thing won’t even start now. The good news is, he’s bringing the bike part with him, so we could get that goin’ this afternoon.” He raised the marshmallowy mug to his lips, humming pleasantly as he tasted his own hot chocolate recipe you’d followed. 

Your eyes lit up at his words. He’d been working on the bike hidden in the small barn since you’d arrived here six months ago, making its restoration his little personal project. He’d spoken to Todd before about acquiring replacement parts and had slowly been fixing up the motorcycle with each trip to the garage. All he needed now was the replacement brake calliper and it would be good to go. “I would have made a third mug if I knew Todd was coming round. That’s amazing though, crazy to think it’s taken this long.” You cradled the steaming mug with both hands, blowing slightly on the warm liquid before taking a long sip, licking at the remains left on your upper lip.

“I know right?” he agreed, tucking you against his side with an arm around your shoulders. “Startin’ to think I should have asked you for help since you can recognise a blown spark plug from a single misfire,” you snorted a laugh into your drink.

“Yeah well, in my completely fabricated past, I trained as a mechanic for a bit so I know a thing or two.”

“You’re only tellin’ me this now?”

“It didn’t seem important at the time!” You held your hands up in defence, your fingers still hooked around the handle of your warm mug. Logan rolled his eyes, unable to tame his disobedient smile. 

“You’re a pain in my ass, ya know that?” He set his half-full mug next to his jacket on the stack of logs, taking yours and setting it down as well all so he could pick you up in his arms, your legs instantly circling around his waist, his hands settling on your thighs. Your fingers threaded through the soft strands at the back of his head as you looked down at him, your eyes dancing with mischief.

“Me? Little ol’ me? I’m heartbroken,” nothing about your current body language suggested anything of the sort, your faux innocence only serving to confirm his suspicions. 

“Bet it’s just eatin’ you up inside, huh?” Sarcasm dripped from his tone and you threw your head back as you laughed, your arms wrapping tightly around his neck before you looked back down at him, wasting no time in taking his lips captive with your own, giggling into the kiss when he bit gently on the soft flesh of your upper lip. You inhaled a sharp gasp through your nose when he smoothed over the small hurt with his tongue, feeling your core respond to his actions, your blood heating with every languid brush of his lips against yours, every slight nibble of his teeth.

Logan groaned softly at the scent of your arousal building, his skin tingling as you returned every nip of his teeth with one of your own, sandwiching his lower lip between your front teeth and tugging slightly. Your hands returned to his hair, twirling the longer strands between your fingers and pulling tight. Todd’s imminent arrival forgotten, Logan swiped at the hood prop, slamming the lid shut and setting your down so his hands could roam up your waist to your breasts, kneading and groping at your tits over your hoodie. 

His lips dragged a trail of soft bites down the side of your neck, his fingers deftly popping open the button of your jeans and pulling down your zipper, his entire hand disappearing down between your damp thighs, his fingertips grazing across the centre of your slick core over your underwear. He growled in response to your whimper, tugging the crotch of your briefs to one side and sliding the back of his finger up over your clit. 

“So wet for me, what got you goin’, hm? ‘S it that book? Did they finally fuck? Make you miss me, hm?” He’d caught glances of you in the window, lip caught between your teeth as you devoured the pages in front of you, your legs crossed tightly. He’d laughed to himself at the time, but now he wanted to show you what the real world could offer. 

You went to bite back at his condescending tone, opening your mouth only to inhale an embarrassing gasp as one of his thick fingers slid inside you, pumping and curling in the ways he knew would have you creaming in minutes. Your nails sank into his forearm, mouth dropping open as hot pleasure coursed through your veins. Humiliatingly enough, it was exactly why you’d come out to see him. The two characters in the book you were reading finally put aside their differences and realised they loved each other in a passionate display of tender fucking. And yeah, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think of Logan at the time. But this wasn’t what you were expecting at all.”

“Logan!” you cried out to the blue skies as your head fell back the moment a second finger slipped inside your aching heat, your walls clamping down against his digits as if he would ever try to escape. With his one free hand, Logan dragged your jeans and underwear down just far enough to slip beneath them between your legs, keeping your knees over his shoulder as he pushed you back against the windshield. You clutched at the wipers as he rubbed his nose against your clit, moaning wantonly at the scent of your liquid nectar. 

His tongue darted out to swipe a long line up the centre of your core, using his fingers to provoke more of your slick to drip down the apex of your thighs for him to drink like a man parched of water. Your hips bucked with each stroke of his tongue, gasping a pitched whimper of his name as his lips wrapped around your sensitive pearl and sucked until you screamed at the heavens above you, your orgasm splitting every nerve in your body with each slow caress of his fingertips against that delicious bundle of nerves nestled two knuckles inside you. 

Your nails scratched against the hood of the truck, flaking off the paint job as wave after wave of your high crashed through your mind and body, your spine arching your hips further against his face as you ground against his tongue before the pleasure spiked into overstimulation and you squirmed away from his fingers, panting desperately. 

“That’s my girl, y’allright?” he soothed, pressing soft kisses to the scar on your inner thigh, cringing in second-hand pain as the back of your head smacked the windscreen behind you, your tensed, shaking muscles finally relaxing. “Y’okay!?”

You giggled, still a little dazed from your orgasm, your hand lazily feeling the slight numbness at the back of your head, simply making sure you hadn’t cracked it open, or at the very least, split the skin. But you felt no blood. “Yeah, ‘m all good. But if you don’t fuck me on the hood of this truck I might pass away– whaaat’re you doing?” You asked as he ducked out from between your legs, pulling your underwear and trousers back up over your knees and to your waist.

“I’ll start makin’ funeral arrangements then. Todd’s here.” You didn’t miss his growl of discomfort, and your heart bled for him a little, knowing he was going to have to go the next god knows how long hard as a rock in his jeans. Pulling up the zipper and fastening the button at your navel, you hopped off the truck just as Todd’s beaten old 4x4 trundled through the tree line. He was one of the only people who knew you were even here, apparently, he was a friend of the previous owner and knew Logan fairly well. The two hadn’t kept in touch, but he’d given him a firm handshake when he first took the pickup truck to his garage.

Retrieving the two mugs of now slightly cooled chocolate, Logan smiled gratefully as he once again took the mug from you, placing a kiss to your brow as he held up an arm of greeting to Todd. The older man stepped from the car, slamming the door shut, a ziplock bag of spark plugs grasped in his broad hand. He had a thick, greying beard bushing proudly along his chin and jaw, bridging across his upper lip. A full head of salt and pepper hair slicked back from his brow, tied into a small bun at the back of his head. You couldn’t deny that he most definitely would have been a lady's man back in his prime, with deep-set blue eyes and a smile crisp as winter frost? You could definitely have seen yourself falling for his charms.

It seemed you had a thing for bearded men. And Logan also seemed to have noticed. He raised a brow as he looked at you out of his peripheral. “Stop eyeing up my mechanic.” He elbowed you lightly and you snorted a laugh.

“Not my fault,” your tone was hushed as you watched Todd head into the backseat of his car, retrieving the new brake calliper for Logan’s bike. “Clearly I like older men.” You sent him a wink and he rolled his eyes, smirking against his better judgement. 

“What’ve you done to ‘er then? And I don’t mean to yer girl ‘ere.” Todd strode over with the self-assurance of a gold medal athlete, a winning smile parting his bearded lips to reveal bright white teeth. You flipped your hair over your shoulder, stepping forward to embrace the man who planted a kiss on your cheek. “Hello, gorgeous. He lookin’ after ya properly?” His faux seriousness had you casting a cheeky glance back at Logan, who narrowed his eyes in response. 

“He’s doing his best.” You whispered loudly behind your hand, and Todd nodded in an exaggerated display of understanding. 

“I’ll ‘ave a word with ‘im, don’t you worry.” He winked at you and you placed your hand against your heart dramatically, pretending to faint as Todd turned from you to Logan, who folded his arms across his chest with a thick brow raised. But he couldn’t keep up his irritated façade for long. It was a tradition ever since the two of you started visiting the garage frequently for Logan’s bike. Todd would flirt with you relentlessly, Logan would pretend to get irate about it for all of thirty seconds before breaking into a wide grin and firmly clasping the man in an embrace. And this time was no different, a solid clap to Todd’s back was all that was needed for you to know this wasn’t the time the men fought it out. The first time you’d visited, you genuinely thought Logan was going to slice his head clean off the second Todd looked your way. But he just stood back with an amused, almost proud smirk as you were flirted with relentlessly. It took you completely off guard at first, but now you were more than happy to go along with it. 

“Didn’t surprise me, it’s an old truck,” you heard Logan explain as you returned from your memories, stepping up to lean against the raised hood of the pickup, your arms crossed against your chest, gesturing to the engine with the mug in your hand.

“Think the oil needs changing too. The mileage counter was going crazy the other day and I only went out to the corner shop. I checked the oil level when I got back and nothing was wrong so I think it’s most likely carbon buildup. Like Lo’ said, it’s an old truck.” The two men stared at you in disbelief as if knowing how to check the oil on a car wasn’t something they expected from you. You flipped them both off. “Oh fuck off the pair of you, I was the one to notice the faulty spark plugs thank you very much.” You placed a defensive hand on your hip, and Todd looked from you to Logan next to him.

“That true?” he asked with a bushy brow raised. 

Logan released a long sigh, offering a low, reluctant “Yep…” 

There was a beat before Todd howled with laughter, his hand clasping Logan’s shoulder with a loud clap. “Said it before an’ I’ll say it again, you got yerself a keeper ‘ere Logan. A woman who looks this good in jeans and knows ‘er way ‘round an engine? Tie ‘er down ‘fore someone else does.” Todd sent you a wink and you blew a kiss back at him. “C’mon then, gotta fix yer bike ‘fore I tackle this hunk o’ metal. Unless missy mechanic over ‘ere would like to do the honours?” he raised a brow and you held up your hands to decline. 

“Cars I can do. Bikes are totally foreign to me, so you lead the way,” you gestured for him to head to the barn, which he did but not before offering you a chivalrous bow. You rolled your eyes as he turned away, falling into step next to Logan who slipped a hand to your waist. You elbowed him slightly. “See? I’m a keeper.” you shot him a shit-eating grin and he pursed his lips in a feeble attempt to suppress his smile.

“‘M stuck with you either way,” he shrug in mock nonchalance, and you poked his ribs.

“You like being stuck with me.”

“Shut up.” He breathed, smothering your face into the crook of his arm, muffling your maniacal cackles as the two of you followed Todd into the barn, watching as he pulled off the tarp sheltering the bike from any leaks in the roof. 

“You’ve done ‘er up somethin’ great, Logan. Lookin’ good as new.” Todd patted the back fender the same way you would a horse you were proud of. Logan just grunted in acknowledgement, being truly terrible at receiving compliments. 

“Think we can get her up and runnin’ today?” Logan asked, glancing as once again your eyes lit up. It had been since months ago since he promised to take you out on that date, and he wanted to stay true to his word. Todd nodded thoughtfully as if contemplating how realistic that was.

“We can certainly give it a go. If you an’ the missus wanna change those spark plugs I can start on replacin’ this break calliper and we can go from there.” You suppressed a grin at being referred to as Logan’s ‘missus’, a giddy spark pepped up your step as Todd tossed the ziplock bag to Logan who caught it in one hand. 

“Sounds good. Absolutely no way I’m leavin’ you two alone together.” You snorted a laugh at Logan’s slight grumble, sending Todd a flirtatious wave as he steered you back out of the barn and towards the pickup. “Unbelievable…” he shook his head fondly as you all but skipped over to the hood of the car, removing what Logan only now realised was his jacket and rolling up the shirt sleeves of his flannel. Not that he was about to complain, but he must have been too caught up in your cunt earlier to notice.

Leaning into the hood of the truck, you peered around the side of the engine, finding the six plugs you needed to change. With deft fingertips you twisted the wire boot of the first plug instead of just yanking it free, a trick you’d picked up when you’d…

Oh yeah. That never happened. A trick they’d planted in your brain, you guessed. You extended a hand out behind you, barely needing to open your mouth before the socket spanner was placed firmly in your grasp. You looked over your shoulder at Logan who’d returned to leaning against the large pile of wood to his right, smirking shamelessly at your ass as you bent over the engine. You grinned, making a show of rolling your eyes, before returning back to the task at hand, unscrewing the first spark plug from the well. Discarding the old part to the floor, you accumulated a small pile of six faulty plugs when you’d removed them all.

Stepping back from inside the hood, you wiped a small bead of sweat from your brow with your oil-slicked hand, leaving a dark smudge just above your eyebrow. Logan handed you the ziplock bag, his smirk ceaseless. “I ain’t gonna pretend this isn’t the hottest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen.” He shrugged when you sent him a questioning look before bubbles of laughter rose from your chest.

“Now look who’s the freak.” You shot back with an equally wicked smirk, before eyeing up the toolbox to his left. “You got a torque wrench in there? Todd might have one actually–”

“Todd is not seein’ you like this, he’ll lose his damn mind. The man already worships the ground at your feet.” Logan rifled quickly through the toolbox as if speed would prevent you from heading back up to the barn and giving the poor mechanic a love-induced heart attack. 

“And why shouldn’t he? I’m a keeper, dontcha know?” You responded haughtily, raising your chin with a dignity you couldn’t possibly hope to possess with your face smudged with engine oil. Logan barked a laugh, tossing you the torque wrench from the box and watching as you returned to your mission, fitting the new plugs in the wells and using the torque when you couldn’t tighten the screw any further with your fingers.

Logan slotted his hands in the dip of your waist, his front pressed against your back as he bent over you, teeth catching the sensitive skin behind your ear. “You’re a keeper, sweetheart. And you’re mine.” his breath fanned your ear as he growled lowly, the outline of his hard cock grinding against the seam of your ass as his hands pulled you against him slightly. 

You gasped airily, teeth clamping down on your lower lip. “You been hard this whole time?” You asked, struggling to focus on fitting the remaining plugs as he trailed one of his hands down your front and between your thighs. He just released a gravelly moan in response as you pushed back into his crotch, moving your hips in a slow circle. Logan bucked with a sharp gasp, nipping at your earlobe. 

“Not my fault. I got this gorgeous new mechanic. She’s hot as fuck and you wanna know the best thing about her?” Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as he rubbed your clit over your jeans, eyes fluttering closed as a smile split your mouth.

“What would that be?”

Logan inhaled your scent, a mixture of engine oil, wood smoke and sweet arousal, his fingers tightening on your waist. “She lets me do whatever I want to her after she changes my spark plugs.” It was a blackened promise filled with swirling lust, sucking the vow of pleasure into a bruise on the side of your neck before withdrawing completely to lean back against the stack of firewood, giving the both of you room to catch your breath.

You had to shake your head of the daze he’d left you in before you could continue, agile fingers reconnecting the ignition leads before you stepped away from the hood completely, swiping at your cheek with your forefinger and leaving yet another dark, greasy smudge. 

“The oil still needs changing but at least we won’t be getting anymore misfires. At least, we shouldn’t.” You wiped your hands on the dirty rag still draped over his shoulder and he licked his thumb, rubbing at the dark smudge above your brow but to now avail. You waved him off, ducking out from his fussing with a look of irritation. “Alright, Dad, I’ll clean myself up later, Christ.” You folded your arms across your chest, before remembering exactly why he wanted to get rid of the smudges, and snorting a laugh. 

“His blood is on your hands if he keels over at the sight of you.” Logan shrugged just as Todd emerged from the barn, wheeling the good-as-new bike along with him.

“A’ight Logan, she should be all ready for ya. Though I’d take ‘er steady to start, I don’t–” The man stopped the second his eyes shifted to you, and he clutched his heart dramatically. “Oh my lord this is it, I’ve seen the light! An angel! Here! Standin’ before me!” He sank to his knees and you chuckled madly, Logan shaking his head in disappointment. “Oh, nope, beggin’ yer pardon. It’s just yer girl.” Todd stood, dusting off his knees and sending you yet another wink, clearly having heard Logan’s comment. “Well, that’s me all finished up then. Comes to around fifty dollars.”

You and Logan exchanged a glance of knowing. You were both well aware Todd had been giving you both discounted prices. Hell, just getting the spark plugs replaced was around eighty, and he was only charging you fifty for both the plugs and the brake calliper? You and Logan had prepared for this moment. He gave you a subtle nod, and you pranced forward, hooking your arm around Todd’s shoulders. A perfect distraction. Logan stepped up behind the two of you silently, slipping the extra hundred-and-twenty into Todd’s pocket, listening to you ask about the difference in performance between the firing cylinders on a V6 and a V8 engine and not really listening to the answer. 

“Well, I think that’s everything, right Lo’?” You asked and he confirmed with a brief nod as you pat Todd’s shoulder once, letting Logan take the lead and make a show out of counting out fifty dollars from his wallet. You left them to it, folding away the prop for the truck hood and slamming it shut, giving the side a gentle pat. The pickup really had served you well for the last six months, and you couldn’t quite bring yourself to either consider getting a replacement car. You’d grown kind of attached to it, developing a taste for the more rugged things in life. 

You couldn’t help but look over at Logan alongside the thought. Rugged things indeed. You leaned against the car door as the two men made their way back over to you, and your ears picked up on their ongoing conversation as Logan stopped by your side. 

“She’s a gem, Logan. Fuck knows how yer ugly mug managed to bag ‘er, but you look after ‘er, ya hear me?” Todd jammed a finger towards his aforementioned ‘ugly mug’  in an empty threat.

“Loud ‘n clear, Todd.” He sent the man a false salute, settling an arm around your shoulder and you instantly leaned into his side. Todd took both your hands in his own and Logan fought the urge to laugh. 

“An’ if this one ever pisses y’off, you know where t’ find me.” He grinned and you chuckled heartily.

“You’ll be the first one to know.” You responded with such conviction Logan had to double take, though your partially imperceptible smile eluded to your sarcasm. You were incredibly good at that. At saying the very thing people wanted to hear. You were also incredibly good at saying the opposite of what people wanted to hear, one too many bar fights started because some handsy asshole decided you were a prime target. If it didn’t piss him off so much, he’d sit back and watch as you both verbally and occasionally physically beat a motherfucker down.

But unfortunately, handsy motherfuckers at bars did piss him off. Monumentally. And though he rarely threw the first punch, he would always throw the second. You didn’t need defending. He knew that. But that didn’t mean he was going to stop.

“Right. Well, I’ll see you both soon then. Best’ve luck with the bike, and my door’s always open for the both of yous, whatever ya need.” He nodded as you both waved him goodbye, standing in the driveway until he disappeared down the track and past the treeline. You hummed a contented smile.

“You’re gonna get a really angry text later, you know that. How much did you slip him?” You asked, stretching your arms high above your head and checking Logan’s watch on his wrist. The time had just gone midday, the sun still casting speckled shadows through the canopy. 

“One-twenty. Brake callipers aren’t particularly cheap.” He admired the way your arms flexed as you stretched, that bruise he’d sucked into your neck blossoming a dark purple. He needed to control himself if he wanted to make good on his promise to you six months ago. “Fancy a drive?”

You spun round to him, eyes sparkling with excitement. “I’ll get my boots!”

Biting wind whipped your unbound hair, exhilaration flooding your system as you clung to Logan’s leather jacket, your cheek resting against his spine. True to his word, he’d taken you out for the day on the back of the bike, finding a secluded, forested cliffside for the two of you to perch on. It wasn’t quite the lakeside romance he’d planned for you before, but it still worked to perfection, watching the clouds pass by overhead, the view a palette of every shade of red, orange and yellow, trees igniting as the sun began to sink low in the sky, faded the bright blue to a softer pale pink as the daylight descended into twilight. 

His hand secured your arm around his middle, caressing the sleeve of your jacket with his thumb with soothing swipes. Glancing over his shoulder, Logan smiled to himself as you nestled closer into his back, your arms tightening around his waist. One of your hands spread up his chest and over his heart, something he’d noticed you started doing absently, subconsciously. His soul sang along with the warmth you brought.

“Y’okay back there?” he called over his shoulder, returning to face the road. He felt you shift in what he could discern was a nod of your head, patting his abs twice.

“Perfect!” he caught your response over the roar of the engine and the whistle of the wind in his ears. Though you sounded alright, something had been off about you. You covered it well, playing around with Todd, nestling into his embrace as you watched the setting sun, but Logan had been seeing that faraway look on your face more often recently. 

It started around a week ago when you were looking for a new book to read after finishing your old one. You were sifting through the bookcase, carefully removing old sketchbooks the two of you had filled and grainy photographs taken on a digital camera when Logan heard you stop abruptly. He’d been oiling a baking dish when eerie silence greeted his ears, and by the time you returned back down the stairs, that vacant look had returned to your eye, the shitty romance novel clutched in your hands.

He’d asked if you were alright, but you waved off his concern with a huffed laugh of dismissal. Though Logan could see it, he didn’t press you. You’d talk about it when you were ready. You always did. 

Turning off the tarmac and down the track to the cabin, Logan took your hand over his heart in his own and dipped down to press a kiss to the top of your knuckles. He was rewarded with a squeeze of your fingers, kicking down the footstand as he parked up next to the truck. He couldn’t smell any rain on the air tonight, so he was happy to leave the bike out and just cover it with the tarp from the barn. 

Swinging your leg over the back of the bike, you cupped the side of his furry jaw, stooping to mould your lips to his grateful kiss, your warm smile infectious. Logan sighed into your mouth, his hands tugging you closer by the waist until you stood between his knee and the bike. His palm moved to the back of your thigh as you swiped your tongue along the seam of his parted lips, your taste sweet honey on his tongue whilst he pulled you onto his lap, two steadying hands braced on the dips of your waist.

“‘M gonna fuck you on this bike… wanted to do it since I first saw the thing,” you breathed against his cheek before dipping below his jaw, suckling little nibbles against his skin. Logan groaned lowly. You’d been teasing him all damn day,  from the way he ate you out that morning to the way he ground against your ass when you were changing the spark plugs. His cock twitched as he let himself hope he would finally find the relief he needed deep within your cunt. 

You rolled your hips against his growing erection as he sat more deeply in the saddle, your legs perched daintily on the foot pegs on either side of his calves. Nimble fingers fiddled with the front of his thick belt, unlacing the buckle from the loop and pulling the two halves aside. Logan growled at your urgency, appreciating the swift tug of his zipper, your fingertips ghosting along the waistband of his briefs, causing his skin to prickle in anticipation. Scratching through the happy trail leading down beneath the elastic, you bit down into his throat, drawing a gasp from his chest. 

He could do nothing but hold you tight as your hand finally sank beneath his briefs, curious fingers circling around the shaft of his cock and tightening your grip. His eyes screwed shut when you circled his sensitive tip with your thumb, his mouth falling open with heavy pants, his hips bucking up into your soft palm. Your nails clawed against the nape of his neck as he pushed you from his throat, turning the tide and sinking his teeth into the soft flesh behind your ear, licking and biting at the same bruise he’d left there earlier. You whimpered against him, and the scent of your arousal teased his nose. 

You tugged his hard cock from his briefs, shoving the fabric down as far ar you could. Logan shivered slightly, the cold air caressing his raging length as you released him to fiddle with the buttons and zipper of your jeans. 

Too long. It would take too long. Logan needed to be inside you yesterday. With a heated hiss, he slid his middle claw from his knuckle, using his other hand to grip both your wrists. “Stay still…” he murmured, bracing the tip of his claw over the clothed apex of your thighs. You gasped, promptly sandwiching your lower lip between your teeth when the ripping of fabric caused your gut to churn. Logan’s nose twitched as your quaking cunt gushed to soak the crotch of your underwear, and you both looked down, equally as surprised at your reaction. 

“Yeah?” he queried with a raised brow, ever-so-softly dragging his claw down the inside of your thigh. You pitched an airy whine, tugging tightly at the hair on the back of his head. To see you like this, gaping and breathless because of his claws did something wicked to him. Instruments that had previously only been used for death had suddenly become something so much more, gifting you with sharp peaks of pleasure when he dragged the back of it over your throbbing clit. 

You nodded desperately, breathing hard through your nose when he hooked that same sharp claw around the waistband of your underwear, slicing clean through the fabric and exposing your pulsing cunt. “Fuck…” you breathed as he retracted the silver claw, giggling slightly when he lifted you against him, pausing to tease your dripping entrance with the head of his cock. 

“‘course you get off on knives…” he muttered, smirking wildly as you attempted to sink onto his cock, using your weight to push down on the hands holding you aloft. You groaned in frustration, dragging a wicked chuckle from his throat, before he slowly pulled you down, humming a low moan as your tight walls welcomed his thick shaft. 

“Should… should do that again… sometime.” You panted into his mouth, barely able to form your words as you slowly roll your hips against him, earning yourself a gravelly grunt along with your movements. “So fucking hot.” You gasped as he thrust up into you, using the bike’s suspension to bounce you slightly as you clung to him, your fingers buried in his hair.

Logan looked down to where he rhythmically disappeared up into you, his breath hitching as you took one of his hands from around your waist and pressed your fingers into his knuckles, right where the slight hurt of his claw healed over. His cock twitched as you massaged his knuckles gently, finding just the right spot between each bone where his claws usually split. He couldn’t help the way his jaw fell open, his eyes rolling when you lifted his hand to your mouth and tongued one of the three surprisingly sensitive skin. 

“Fuck… Fuck! D’do that again…” Logan fucking stuttered as you repeated the motion with your tongue the very same way he would when he ate you out. Pleasure surged through his veins at the newfound discovery of the erogenous zone, thrusting up into you deliciously and causing you to bite down at the bone of his knuckle as the tip of his cock brushed against that patch of ecstasy inside you. 

You held his gaze as you made a show of dipping your tongue in the slits between his knuckles, closing your lips around the skin and sucking the same way you would against his cock. Logan furiously drove into you, still holding your waist with his one hand whilst you lavished the other. Eight months he’d been seeing you, and not once in that entire time had he ever come before you with his cock inside you, always taking extra care to make sure you hit your high at least once before he found his own. But with the liquid heat pulsing in his veins, he didn’t know if he could last.

He was thankful when your other hand left his wrist, skirting down beneath the waistband of your torn jeans to play with your own clit, throwing your head to the sky as the building pleasure wracked your body, only to bring his knuckles back to your lips. 

Your walls clenched tightly around his thrusting cock, deft fingers toying with your own pearl when your thighs started to shake, your whimpers and moans climbing in pitch, the vibrations of your voice tingling against the skin of his hand. 

Logan felt his own high cresting, his back tensing as his balls drew up, trying in vain to hold your failing gaze. Watching your eyes roll back into your skull was his undoing, feeling you coating his cock as you came around him, your teeth sinking into those little patches of pure pleasure shoving him over the edge of tension and into the honey-coated lightning storm of ecstasy. He cried your name, sharp pulses of fire shaking his system as he exploded inside you, coating your inner walls white.

Your brows pinched, mouth forming a perfect O as you struck your peak, his aphrodisiac cries of your name pulling you under as you simultaneously came with each other. You’d never felt him come so hard, and through your pleasure-addled brain, you assumed it was the result of being so pent up all day. Logan clung to you like a lifeline, nestling his face against the nook of your neck as he continued to twitch inside you, those overwhelming waves finally receding until he was basking in the full afterglow.

You panted hard, finally releasing his hand to grab at his shoulders, anchoring yourself against him to recover from just how hard your release had wrecked your body, barely able to laugh breathlessly and in utter disbelief into the little peaks of his hair. Logan grit his teeth together as you lift yourself off him to sit back on his sturdy thighs. How you managed to absolutely wreck him every goddamn time he didn’t know, but at least he’d been working on his self-control, and his claws didn’t slice your mouth open.

“That was fuckin’ dangerous…” he murmured, swiping his thumb along your lower lip. “Coulda hurt ya.” His brows pinched with genuine concern and you pressed your forefinger into the creases between them, easing his worries.

“How have we waited until now to use your claws? Such a good idea!” You were way too enthusiastic about that, and Logan simply huffed a laugh, looking up at you through dark lashes. 

“Not a good idea. Sure it was good today–”

“Logan it was fucking great today–” he clamped a hand over your mouth, silencing your protests. 

“But I can’t guarantee I’m always gonna have that kind of control. I could’ve done some real damage.” He knew reprimanding you was going to do absolutely nothing. Not when it had felt so fucking good, and you’d seen and felt what it had done to him. “Where’d you even get that idea?” He asked as you giggled a little mischievously, swinging your legs back over the bike and shimmying a little as you felt him drip from your cunt. Logan snorted as you squirmed awkwardly, tucking himself back in his briefs, not bothering to re-buckle his belt before scooping you into his arms and carrying you bridal-style to the cabin.

“Just came to me in the moment. I’m sensitive around my scars, so I guess it made sense to me that you would be as well. Or rather, if scars could be left on your body.” You shrugged, your arms looping loosely around his neck, your head resting against his shoulder as you reached into his pocket for the key, inserting the metal into the lock. 

Logan nodded in understanding as if your explanation made sense. And, in a way, it did. You were sensitive around your scars. He knew that better than anyone. At any point he wanted to distract you from something, all he needed was to nip at the mark on your neck, swipe his thumb against any of the four bullet wounds on your chest, or even pinch lightly at the one on your inner thigh, and you’d throw your head back with a breathy gasp.

So it checked out that, if scars could be left on his body, he’d react similarly. Which he had done. 

You tossed the keys into the bowl on the kitchen windowsill as Logan carried you through the cabin and up the stairs. You couldn’t pretend you weren’t enjoying the treatment, and at the very least it was preventing his cum from dripping uncomfortably down your leg. 

Laying you on the bed, he pressed a sweet kiss to the top of your brow, before disappearing into the ensuite. “Why aren’t you pregnant yet?”

You choked on your spit, half laughing half coughing at his question as he returned to you with a warm, damp towel clutched in his hands. “Come again?” you asked, still in recovery.

“We’ve been fucking, unprotected, for months now, and you still regularly get your period. Sure, you’re ovulating at the moment–”

“Logan!?” You gaped, kicking him lightly with the side of your foot as he cleaned you up, tossing the towel to the side and innocently dragging down your ruined jeans.

“But I’m just curious. Surely something woulda happened by now, even just a scare,” he pulled open your drawer, rummaging around until he recovered your favourite dark grey sweatpants.

“You got a point. Maybe it’s my mutation? I guess my body sorta resets itself every time I shadow walk, almost like a default state,” You shrugged, sitting up as he handed you the pair of trousers to replace the ones he’d ripped. “I guess if we wanna know then we could always just…” You trailed off and Logan turned from where he was changing his own clothes, comfy loungewear pulled up to his waist. 

Following your line of sight, Logan’s heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. He knew where you were looking, and if he was being truly honest with himself, he knew what you’d found a week ago. He wasn’t blind. The first month settling into the cabin, you’d cast fleeting glances at the bookcase where the folder was nestled, and he didn’t know whether you thought he wouldn't notice, but he did. 

The months went by and you didn’t quite forget about it, but you learned to live with it. Until a week ago, when you were searching for a new book to read. Logan didn’t know if you were ready. Shit, he didn’t know if he was ready. He’d only scanned a few pages of the file and he was truly terrified of what he’d discover if he’d looked at the pages in more detail. 

His blood turned to ice as you stood, approaching the shelving as if it would lash out and bite you. Steeling your nerves, you reached behind the first layer of books, parting them slightly as you retrieved the thick folder detailing every day of your life. Every horror you endured, every agonised second. You inhaled a shaky breath, returning to the bed and setting it down. 

NLMO. Subject Eight. “Phantom”.

Logan slowly came to sit by your side, taking your hand in his own, a silent gesture to remind you he was here. You looked up from the file, uncertainty swirling in your irises.

“I have to…” you whispered, trembling slightly as you went to open the folder, only for Logan to stop you.

“No. You don’t. You’re safe here. Nothin’ can get to you, sweetheart. Only do this if you want to, not because you feel like you have to.” You squeezed his hand, gaze flickering from the sincerity in his face to the handwriting on the documents containing who you were.

“I do have to do this, but I have to do this for me. Not for anyone else. I still have so many questions, Lo’. I don’t understand why Rowan is still there and I’m here. I need to know what happened. To all of us.” You spoke with such conviction, that Logan knew you’d made up your mind. Covering your hand positioned at the corner of the folder, he nodded.

“Alright then. We do this. Together.”

“You don’t have t–”

“I promised you I wouldn’t leave you whilst my heart was still beating, yeah? Do I look dead to you?” You snorted a laugh, shifting to lie on your front. Logan waited until you settled yourself before he too shuffled about, lying almost on top of you so his cheek was practically pressed against your own.

“Dead gorgeous maybe.” You grinned, and he pinched your waist, rolling his eyes dramatically.

“Just open the fuckin’ folder, freak.”

You turned your attention back to your past, once again inhaling a long, shaky breath. “Ready?” you asked, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. 

Logan nodded once in response. “Ready.” And the two of you turned the first page to your past.

For the some of the part, the documents within were mundane. It was incredibly creepy to start off with, knowing every moment of the life you remembered was being observed and written down, but it quickly became more of a story and less of a recounting. Logan would often crinkle his nose in confusion. “Wait, which one’s Subject Three again?” He’d ask, to which you’d respond with a sigh and a long look. “That’s Joseph, or Janus. He can teleport. Kinda like Kurt but less smoky.” And he would raise his head with understanding, before continuing to read in silence. 

You were okay for the first few pages, Ex.3 shook you up a little, reading about a memory you simply don’t have where they pushed your mutation to the limit alongside your bother. Deprivation and indulgence indeed. You took deep breaths through the surge of anxiety, Logan holding you close to him, asking softly if you needed anything. You just shook your head. You were fine. There were worse things to come. If you couldn’t handle this, how would you be okay with everything else?

The first big obstacle arose in 1944. The day was usual, you’d woken up, made breakfast with Rowa, and visited Jade, before they took you out for experimentation. It was the shift at Shots Shack. The one where you’d been flirted with all night and ended up fucking one of the customers in the bin shed.

Except, that’s not what happened at all. It was an accident. The result of a guard getting far too handsy with you. You’d fought him off as much as you could, but Subject One hadn’t restored your memories yet, so your mutation was at its baseline. You clenched your jaw as you kept reading, nausea roiling in your gut as Kreva detailed his observations, from your agonised screams for him to stop to the way you couldn’t stop shaking after he was done. You could barely stomach another sentence before a particularly vivid description of what was left behind had you detangling from Logan’s arms, racing to the bathroom and throwing up the contents of your stomach. You were kept under extreme observation after the incident. Not to make sure you were alright, but to look out for any signs of fucking pregnancy.

Logan had to suppress his burning hatred, not finding enough justice in knowing that the guard was let go from his position. He should be torn to fucking pieces for what he did. But flying off the handle wouldn’t help you. He followed you to the bathroom, gathering your hair in his hands as you convulsed over the toilet seat, the acidic stench of pure bile burning his nose. 

It was a fairly fond memory, what supposedly happened that night, only now for it to be tainted forever by the truth of what really happened. Your gasp echoed into the toilet bowl as you wretched again, your skin itching as if you hadn’t washed in days. 

“What’d you need?” Logan asked, gently scratching down your spine as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. Your weak response of “Shower…” Had him moving instantly, opening the window before turning the dial of the shower, letting it warm before he helped you to your feet. 

“Where d’you need me?” He asked as you swallowed hard, clinging to his arm.

“Here.” You whispered, before slowly removing your clothes. Logan helped you out of your sweater, leaving you to pull down your own sweatpants unlike what had been written in the folder, before he guided you into the steam. Stripping himself of his own clothes, Logan stepped in after you, his heart breaking in two as you instantly sought his embrace.

He held you beneath the warm water until he completely lost track of time, your face nestled beneath his chin, his thumb slowly caressing up and down your spine. Occasionally your shoulders would spasm with a stifled sob, and he’d whisper sweet nothings into the top of your head. You were safe with him. He was going to look after you. He’d never let them find you again. 

Despite having read your previous experiences, his hands on your body felt clean. Pure. Nothing about Logan was tainted in the same way that memory was. You nuzzled your nose further into the hair on his chest, feeling the aura of comfort wrap around your heart. He had you. He wasn’t letting you go. 

Promises and vows drowned by the hum of water left his lips until you took a deep breath, stepping back from his embrace and meeting his gaze with newfound determination. You were okay. You’d be okay. Reaching behind him, Logan turned the dial for the water pressure until it was off completely, barely separating far enough from you that you could wrap a fluffy, heated town around your shoulder before he was stuck to your back again like a limpet. You weren’t complaining. It was absolutely what you needed right now. His presence. His touch. Knowing he wasn’t going to leave your side no matter what. No matter how broken your past, or how ruined you may be. He’d be by your side through all of it. 

Logan kissed the top of your head, stepping ahead of you to snap the folder closed and shove it somewhere out of sight, but you stopped him before he could. 

“I’m okay…” you murmured, loosening your grip on his forearm a little. He tensed his jaw, looking between you and the file. The mere fact that you were alright to continue was a testament to your courage. If he was being honest with himself, Logan didn’t know how much more he could read before it was you holding his hair back. And you giggled as he said just that. “Big baby.” You teased lightly, threading your fingers through his dark strands, swiping the damp back from his brow. 

“‘Scuze me if I’m not exactly thrilled to read all the agony they put the love of my life through…” he admitted with a soft huff, unable to meet your gaze as your eyes lit up. You rose to your tiptoes, moulding your lips against his in a soft, reassuring kiss, before pulling back. You chose not to mention it, how he’d never said anything like that to you in the last eight months you’d been together. You chose not to pinpoint the moment of vulnerability, opting instead to let his words settle in your heart. 

You didn’t know the time and honestly didn’t want to. Making yourselves two cups of tea, you returned back to the folder on the bed, once again getting comfortable. “Well. That was fucking harrowing…” you commented flatly as if you’d read something in the news, and Logan grunted in agreement, raising his fresh mug of tea to his mouth. He’d never been a tea drinker in the past, but living with you had turned him to all kinds of interesting new habits. “Ready for more…?” you asked with a wry smile to mask your nerves. He shot you an exhausted look but nodded nonetheless as you flipped through the papers to return to the one you’d had to leave. “Yeah no okay we don’t need to continue that one, we get the gist of it…” you turned the page hurriedly, smoothing out the paper as you pushed the contents behind you.

Year by year you kept reading, huffing little laughs as Kreva noted down everything NLMO got up to. From stealing some man’s car in the 1950s to graffitiing a wall with a penis in the 1980s. And whilst you knew your entire life was a simulation, it was almost gratifying to see that half of the things you remembered really did happen. You really did cook food with your brother. You really did hang out with Jade, or Kaleidoscope, every day. Erin, or Wood-Nymph, really did teach you how to grow plants effectively. You used to sit with Morgana, or Sanguine, and sketch together. Atlas, or Harmony, used his mutation to heal you up every time you ‘got into a fight’. You refused to refer to them by their numbers, just as you would refuse to refer to yourself that way too. 

Logan wasn’t expecting the moments of peace within the file. He’d only skimmed a few pages back in the med bay and hadn’t picked it up since, so he was pleasantly surprised every time you chuckled lightly at your old shenanigans. You would offer small anecdotes of what you remembered, providing further context to what he was reading. 

It broke him apart, however, when you went quiet. When you’d turn the page and be faced with the reality of what was happening to you. Psychological torture to test your mind’s durability. Scans and tests that had you screaming in pain as they injected you with various drugs, just to see how your mutation would react, if at all. These were the moments when Logan would hold you tighter against his side, eyes flickering from the pages to your face to guage where you were mentally. 

1962, your mouth fell open as you scanned down the experiment report. They were helping you develop your mutation. Logan too pinched his brows in confusion. You’d been able to call the shadows at will, conjuring various objects, weapons, and appendages without a sweat. “Wh– How?” you muttered to yourself, flipping back through the pages you’d already read as if to find some kind of answer. Logan stilled your hand, his eyes scanning furiously down the log before pointing to a paragraph roughly a quarter of the way down the page.

“There.”

Sub.8 only seems to access its mutation after we use Sub.1 to refocus its brain. Whereas 5 had access to its full range of powers at all times, 8 shows signs of regression when 1 replaces its memories. To combat this, I have 1 reassemble only the memories it needs to regain full control and access to its mutation. The reasons for this are, as of right now, unclear. However, it is suspected that, though subconscious, 5 retains muscle memory of utilisation. It could be that 8 is so resilient because it simply forgets even on a subconscious level. Further investigation is needed to yield an answer.

You rolled your eyes, muttering a sarcastic “Oh, very helpful.” Before you continued flipping through the pages.

Spending the next day in bed, Logan was up and down the stairs, mainly to stretch his legs every now and then, but also to grab snacks and drinks before falling back down next to you on the bed, offering you a bite of whatever he’d snatched. You’d continue reading the document in front of you, absently opening your mouth before sinking your teeth into what you learned was a block of cheese. Only then did you look away from the text, shooting him a look of bafflement. 

“An entire block of cheese?”

“‘M hungry.” He shrugged defensively, and you snorted a laugh, shaking your head as you returned to the words before you.

Logan didn’t know how you did it. He’d seen you sit for hours, with a nose buried in a book, but this was on another level. In the last twenty hours, he thinks he saw you get up and stretch once, head to the bathroom maybe three times, and take a roughly two-hour power nap. He, on the other hand, had to stand every hour or so, his legs feeling like dead weights if he lay down for much longer than that. The stacks of pages evened out slowly before finally, the read side looked far larger than the to-read side. 

Setting down another mug of sweetened coffee on your nightstand, a new secret recipe of espresso mixed with hot chocolate, Logan lay back down next to you, skim-reading the rest of the page where he’d left off before you turned it over. It was how he forced you to give your eyes a break. You couldn’t continue until he’d finished the page you shared, and you only looked away when you’d reached the bottom and he’d stood up to go somewhere. 

You’d reached 2013 now, only seven years ago, and the two of you were coming to the end of the folder. Flipping over the final page, you were met with penmanship rather than the typeface you’d become used to. Glancing to Logan, he returned your look of trepidation, before you started to read it aloud. 

6th April, 2013. Fuck fuck FUCK! He’s let them all fucking go. FUCK! I barely managed to save their folders before the stupid bastard blew up the whole FUCKING FACILITY! I don’t know how he managed to get 1 to alter their memories without coercing it, but they’ve all scattered across the fucking country. We need to start rebuilding. We need to get them back. Now. We cannot let this research go to waste. They need to be understood. If we are to create an army of these mutants, we need them to return and continue understanding their fundamentals. 5 was the easiest to manipulate, and 1 didn’t know how to run. I found it lying on the ground by the road. I will rebuild what he destroyed, I will find them all again. I’ll continue the work of my great-grandfather. But if anything should go wrong… I’ll have 5 eradicate all evidence. 

That was the last entry in your folder, and you wondered if any of the other seven had a similar log. Blowing out a long breath, you folded the file closed, turning to look at Logan as he seemed stuck in his head. A palm against his cheek, you turned him to look at you, tilting your head to the side in silently questioning.

“Hundred-and-five.” Was all he said, and you squinted in confusion.

“Hm?”

“That’s how old you are. At the start, it said you were sixteen. The first entry was in 1931, and the last entry was in 2013. Add the last seven years to that, and you’re hundred-and-five years old.” You stayed silent, attempting to wrap your head around his calculations. Over a century, you’d been alive. And eighty-two years of it was spent in a simulation, your memories being replaced almost daily. It was like your brain was a computer software they updated every ten years, making sure the background to your memories matched the decade. Fucking hell.

“Guess I can’t really make fun of you for your age anymore, huh…?” You smiled a little sadly, genuinely upset that half your jokes were now completely voided due to the fact you weren’t that much younger than him. You still didn’t know his age for sure, and neither did he. “But, looking on the bright side… at least I won’t grow old and grey whilst you look gorgeous forever.” You elbowed him softly in an attempt to lighten the mood.

If this was how you chose to cope with it, then Logan would be happy to go along with you. “You were worried ‘bout that?” he asked, raising a thick brow as you nodded.

“It crossed my mind, sure.” You shrugged, before kicking the folder to the floor, its once imposing presence in the room was now little more than an inconvenience taking up too much of the bed. The silence settled as you contemplated that last page. A mutant army. It didn’t seem possible. Who would be willing to join something like that? And why would any mutant fight for a human doctor? But you couldn’t shake your growing fear. And now he’d gathered whoever was left of NLMO, minus yourself and Jade. And since Jade was dead, you were the last on his list.

The thought didn’t scare you. You knew what you needed to do. And you were pretty sure Logan knew it too. 

“We need to get you back to Charles…” he whispered in defeat, being the braver of the two to actually voice what needed to happen. You needed your full mutation, and if the file was to be believed, the only way you could get it back, was if your memories were restored. Your real memories.

Closing your eyes, you tensed your jaw as you nodded in agreement, still too afraid to speak it into existence. Truth be told, you didn’t want your memories back. Whilst you weren’t exactly thrilled at what happened to you, it felt so far away, since you don’t remember living through any of it. “What if…” you started, trailing off almost immediately as you found the right words. “What if I’m not… me, anymore. If he can get them back, my memories… what if I’m different than I am now?” You asked timidly, avoiding looking anywhere near his face by fiddling with one of the tassels of his zipper hoodie.

Logan sighed through his nose, clasping your chin between his thumb and forefinger and raising your head so he could look you in the eye. Honestly, it scared him too, what those memories might do to you, but he also knew who you were. At your core. At the centre of your being. He knew exactly who and what you were. 

“You’ll be different, sure. But you’ll still be you,” he urged you to meet his gaze, adjusting his grip on your chin every time your eyes shifted from his own. “No matter what happens. No matter who or what you are after you remember, I’ll be right here.” His fingers shifted from your chin to your jaw, sandwiching your face between his calloused palms, his thumbs tracing the shadows beneath your eyes. 

Your head settled against his brow, simply feeling him close to you, whispering a quiet “Okay…” before he pressed a kiss of assurance to your lips. You smiled against him, your breath fanning his mouth and chin. 

“Glad I changed the spark plugs now… shame about the oil.” You chuckled slightly, and Logan rolled his eyes. 

“Think an oil change is the least of our concerns…” he mumbled, before you sat back, rubbing a tired hand down the side of your face. You looked exhausted, but then again, you always did. “Well, no time like the present, huh?” A rapid sigh flew from parted lips and you scrambled off the bed, pulling your rucksack out of the closet. Logan made to follow your lead, before halting as rhythmic, low vibrations hummed from the bedside drawer. His wry gaze slid to you, a brow raised in sly amusement. 

You held your hands up in innocence. “Don’t look at me! My drawer’s on that side! Plus it has an off switch, thank you!” You huffed, folding your arms across your chest. Logan’s brow furrowed in confusion, wrenching the drawer open, various different objects clattering around with the force, including his unused mobile phone. It was rudimentary, barely more modern than the Nokia Brick, sporting large thick buttons rather than a screen. What small screen it did have illuminated as Logan chuckled at the name, holding up the mobile so you could read it. 

TODD

You snorted a laugh, checking the time on the phone simultaneously. Had he really only found the sneaky money after almost two days? At two in the morning? “Told ya you’d receive an angry text or call!” You grinned triumphantly, Logan tossing the phone back down on the bed to let it ring out. He’d return his call on the road whenever you’d inevitably fallen asleep, and listen to whatever long-winded reprimanding he had coming his way. 

“Stay in the car…” he’d growled, his nose twitching as he sensed something wasn’t quite right. Your heart thundered in your throat as he opened his door, claws sliding from his knuckles, surveying the treelines on either side of the road. The air beyond the cab was quiet. Too quiet. And Logan angled his head to the sky, inhaling deeply before exhaling a threatening snarl. 

Something was very wrong. 

You linked your fingers through the handle of your door, pulling against the mechanism. Logan whipped to look at you through the driver’s side, his eyes wide and panicked as you shot him a look back. You weren’t fucking defenseless for Christ’s sake. You were a powerful mutant even without the whole scope of your abilities. 

You stepped out of the car despite his protests, waiting for something to happen the moment your feet touched the tarmac.

Silence.

You took a step forward.

Silence.

Casting a glance over to Logan, you watched as his chest heaved with adrenaline, and you didn’t fight the urge to cross the road with the intention of setting him at ease.

The second you were crossing the headlights, the dark road ahead exploded with light, shadows disappearing as a single gunshot rang out.

Logan’s world froze as blood exploded from your chest, spraying the hood and windshield of the pickup. A look of confusion tilted your head, before realisation dawned on your features and you staggered back, your breath strained in your throat as a dark line of crimson slid from the corner of your mouth. Pain wracked his chest as Logan roared, though his desperate attempts to get to you were in vain, finding his limbs sluggish and his brain hazy. 

Your knees gave out as you collapsed onto the road, splitting your head against the tarmac. This is why you haven’t left for six months. This was the exact reason why he’d kept you safe in the cabin. Logan supported himself against the truck, dragging his stubborn legs across the ground, his vision swimming. He shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind. All you needed was a shadow and you’d be okay. He’d deal with the rest. He just needed to get his shadow within your reach. 

“The Wolverine. I’ve heard a lot about you.” A voice echoed around the trees lining the road, that pocket-sized sun moving closer to where you lay, gasping and bleeding, with no shadow to disintegrate into. “You’re extremely hard to get rid of. I never take Subject Two anywhere, yet here it was needed to keep you at bay. An impressive little mutant. It can manipulate blood cells. You see, right now, it’s slowed the beat of your heart to the point where you feel… drowsy? Sluggish? Exhausted? How’re you feeling right now?” He almost mocked, crouching down to where Logan had fallen to the floor, inches away from you. But the light had moved, his shadow now behind him and nowhere near where you needed it.

“Kreva.” He hissed, his claws slowly sliding from his knuckles and scratching along the tarmac. You gurgled weakly, making a subconscious reach for where Logan lay immobile, his eyes bloodshot. You’d read the file now. You knew all about NLMO and their individual mutations. Subject Two, Sanguine, could control and manipulate blood, whether it was her own or belonged to somebody, or something, else. And of course, that constant glow of sunlight belonged to Subject Five. Rowan. Solaris. Your brother. 

Your body itched as you bled out, begging for the haven of darkness to dissolve and reform, it was taking all of your strength to hold together those threads.

“It’s been cute, watching our Phantom domesticate the great Wolverine. But it couldn’t last. I still need it, unfortunately.” Dr.Kreva patted his hand against Logan’s arm as if in consolidate him, but it did nothing other than fuel his rage. Logan struggled against Sanguine, looking up at her shrouded face, eyes burning a deep red as she continued to manipulate his bloodstream. “Everyone step back!” Kreva called out, resulting in the team around him shuffling back a few feet.

“Don’t… don’t you– fuckin’ touch her!” Logan’s vision tunnelled slightly, barely managing to ground out his threat between clenched teeth. Kreva simply laughed with bitter condescending.

“Yes, I suppose I could let her bleed out. Though considering she’s been shot in the chest before and lived, I wonder how long it would take for her to actually die. Maybe that’ll be our last experiment. Whaddya say, Eight?” He bent over you, and you mustered up enough energy to spit a globule of blood into his face. He swiped at your crimson spit, cracking a hearty smile. “You haven’t changed a bit, have you? Subject Five, if you could.” Rowan moved behind Kreva, his shadow shrouding you in darkness and you fought the urge to dissolve into it, knowing that if you did, there would be nothing you could do. He had intimate knowledge of your mutation, he’d already prepared by bringing along your brother, let alone whatever else he’d had with him. You greet your blood-stained teeth, shivering as your body pleaded with you to let go. “You’ll give in, Eight. You always do. You tried this before. Not that you remember. Those scars on your wrists? You’ve tried this before and your body wouldn’t let you. So just give in…” He urged quietly, and you balled your fists, your nails digging harshly into the soft flesh of your palm. 

Your eyes slid to Logan a few feet away, his breath heaving in his chest, fear swirling in his wide hazel irises as he looked at you. 

“I will find you,” he grit, the tendons in his neck straining. “I promise. I will find you.”

You offered him a weary, bloody smile, and his heart broke as he saw the hope fade from your face. 

“I love you…” you barely managed a silent whisper, lingering just long enough to watch his whole world shatter through the windows to his soul, before you released the threads within your body, sinking into Kreva’s shadow. 

“Splendid,” Kreva clapped his hands together as if he’d done nothing but lit a fantastic barbecue. “Subject Five, you can stop now.” Like a switch had been flipped, the daylight glow resonating from your brother cut out, the torch beams from the truck headlights now the only remaining light. Logan clawed at the ground, his eyes lingering where he’d seen you last. You weren’t dead. He needed to remember that. You weren’t dead. But the way you spoke to him like it was the last time you were ever going to see him…

A cry of anguish worked its way up his throat, splitting the air as Kreva turned back to him like he’d just remembered he was there. “Oh, I know, hurts, doesn’t it? Let’s ease your pain for a while. Subject Two, if you’d be so kind.” 

Logan’s vision swam further, the pounding in his head growing to a crescendo as his heart rate slowed, knowing nothing more as his senses faded to black. 

It must have only been seconds of unconscious, the sky still shrouded in black clouds when he came to once again. Though Kreva was nowhere to be seen, a pool of crimson blood left behind where you once lay dying. 

You weren’t dead. You weren’t dead. 

Raising to his forearms, Logan shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind of the cobwebs, hazy memories dancing just out of his reach. Staggering to his feet, he craned his neck as the hum of a jet hovered overhead, recognising the Blackbird instantly, the sleek design blending in seamlessly with the sky above before the beams from the truck headlights illuminated the cockpit, steam hissing with pressure as the feet extended to the ground.

The engine was still whirring when Storm sprinted down the ramp toward him, her stark hair flowing behind her in the breeze she kicked up. Logan shook his head numbly as she approached, in answer to the question she had yet to ask. “Gone…” was all he could say, eyes sliding from Ororo to the bloodstain on the tarmac. Scott jogged up behind her, fingers braced at the side of his glasses before he stopped, seeing Logan’s expression.

There was a moment of understanding between the two men, Scott swallowing hard, Logan shaking his head still, slightly helpless before Scott stepped forward and firmly enveloped him in a tight embrace. 

“We’ll get her back, man. We will.” 

Logan’s breath shuddered as Scott drew back, keeping a hand firmly clasped atop his shoulder as Ororo looked between the two of them. “Kreva, right?” she asked rhetorically, though Logan nodded nonetheless.

“Yeah. Ambush. Had this freaky blood manipulator. I couldn’t fuckin’ get to her.” he bared his teeth, running a hand through his hair.

“How’d he even know where she was? Where were you headed?” Scott asked, continuously glancing around as if someone was eavesdropping on the conversation. But they’d gone. Kreva and his subjects had gone. 

And taken you with them.

“Headin’ back to you. We read the file. She needs her memories back if we want to use her mutation. I don’t have a clue how he knew. I just–”

The realisation struck Logan like a brick to the head, stopping abruptly as he absently removed his phone from his back pocket.

There, glaring in the low light, the sole reason for icy fury to flood his veins. There, the sole reason you weren’t by his side right now.

Logan gripped the phone in his palm, hearing the casing crack slightly as he read the text over and over, a name he thought he could trust. The only name he thought he could trust with you.

TODD:

Forgive me.

[wutheringcaterpillar]

I was wondering if you could write something for Peaky Blinders where the reader is a mix of Tommy and Arthur, who grew up with the Shelby’s and ended up being their business partners and Tommy’s fiancé, only for him to ship you away for your safety after a business meeting gone wrong and you come back to find him married to Grace as he believed the reader had died while away due to no correspondence. Thank you so much if you can 💖

Warnings: Altered storyline, orphan!reader, sad ending

thank you for the request, apologies it took a moment to come out. Thank you for being patient, hope you enjoy lovie🥰

Growing up with the Shelby’s wasn’t for the weak, but since a young age they had taken you in as their own.

Ada taught you how to fight for your rights and never allow a man to take control of you, whilst Arthur was the one who always reminded you to keep fighting when things get tough, to not supress any anger or rage as he did.

Then there was Tommy, the voice of reason, the one that promised protection over you and put the most interest in your life.

Through the years you’d grown immensely close, a shy attraction forming but never having the courage to approach the matter until a small kiss was shared on a drunken snowy night at the pub. 

From there things began to escalate, Tommy going as far as proposing and the family being overjoyed. The profound bound you shared with one another was unbreakable. That was until a villainous person of character brought trouble and you were his main target.

Tommy wasn’t quite sure how but the man had figured out where you were 24/7. A car reappearing constantly was never found, a familiar face never near. When they’d attempt to break in while you were at the betting shop alone Tommy realized he couldn’t risk it anymore, couldn’t risk losing you. Eventually sending you off to stay in Boston and promising to return when the situation was handled.

As days turned into weeks, weeks turning into months there had been no contact made on your part, leaving Tommy to presume you were dead and they had found a way to you.

Wanting the reassurance, he sent Charlie out there to investigate. But when Charlie arrived at your secluded flat, the place was a mess. Clothes and papers scattered, half bowls of food on the counters and what looked like to be blood covering your sheets, so he assumed the worst, eventually confirming Tommy’s fear that you had passed and your body was nowhere to be found.

Now here you were entering through the corridors of the Arrow House after tracking breadcrumbs to figure out where your long lost love was living.

Heads turned to stare in disbelief and side conversations unfolding from your powerful presence.

What you weren’t ready for was to see Tommy standing there with a blonde woman with an expensive necklace wrapped around her neck, his hands firmly placed caringly on her arms.

“I need you. I need you alive Grace.” The scene unfolding before your very own eyes churned your stomach in disgust while your heart thumped rapidly from the anger and heartbreak in your chest.

“And what about me then Tommy?” You shouted loudly causing everyone’s heads to turn in curiosity.

Whipping his head around from the sound of that voice he once cherished that he never thought he’d hear again. Grace followed his eyes, brows furruowing in confusion.

“Tommy who is this?” 

“Who are you?” You quipped back without missing a beat, resentment and anger laced in your voice.  Tommy felt everyone’s eyes glued on him, but that didn’t change the murmur in his heart.

He felt like the universe had come to a stand still. How could this be? It couldn’t, no. He had confirmation you were dead but yet here you were standing right before his very own eyes.

When Grace tried to approach, Tommy released his arm causing her to come to a hault.

“Why don’t we go to my office. Somewhere more private without lingering eyes and ears, eh?” Arthur and Ada stayed near their corner, watching the scandalous scene of events, nearly choking on their drinks when your heels clicked forward, hand striking the middle Shelby across his face vigorously before storming off in anger.

Ada set her glass down knowing she’d need to intervene with Grace, surely Tommy would want to talk to you alone.

Waving his hand, the music restarted, fellow bussiness partners and coneseuirs going back to their socializing as if nothing has happened.

Closing the office doors behind him, Tommy placed his hands in the pockets of his pants to hide his trembling hands, watching you rummage around his desk drawer for a cigarette as his crystal eyes remained calm and collected.

“Y/N. I thought you were dead. I didn’t-“ You slammed the door shut, lighting the cigarette allowing the nicotine to burn your lungs euphorically while flipping you hair, unphased by your ex fiance.

“I’m going to stop you right there. Tell me, did you even look for me? Or were you already far past me when you sent me away. Was that it? Was it all for her?” The crackling in your strained voice and the water building at the brink of your heartbroken eye lids shattered Tommy inside, lips parting agape while he couldn’t seem to find the right words.

There was a knock at the door but neither you or Tommy answered, gazes still locked in a windwhirl of scattered emotions, stuck laying in the bed of deceit and heartache that he caused.

When the knocking insisted on, he hadn’t known it was Grace on the other side when he shouted, “For christ’s sake we are busy! Fuck off!” She was taken aback by his tone, scoffing and twisting at the door handle trying to jiggle open the locked knob.

Scoffing at the tone of her high pitched, annoying voice yelling to be allowed in caused your blood to boil.

Picking up the glass bottle of liqour, you threw it with strong velocity and a hateful intent, just barely missing Tommy’s head as the object shattered against the door behind him.

“Jesus christ! Fucking calm down eh? I didn’t fucking know Y/N-I-“ She still didn’t stop.

“Fuck off you fiance stealing tramp!” Her efforts diminished, face turning pale when she heard what you said. So that’s who you were.

“Now with the whore gone, give me a fucking answer that I am damn well entitled to! Did. You. Look. For. Me.” He knew you were right, he should have looked, should have seen for himself but he didn’t want to bare seeing your lifeless body.

His fingers rubbed together at his side, head dropping down in guilt as his eyes wandered, mind pondering why the fuck he just assumed. There were plenty of moments where his men gave him false information, wrong information. 

“You never wrote back Y/N. I tried for months and sent Charlie to look for you. He told me there was blood in your bed and looked like no one had been there in weeks. I fucking thought you were dead. A day didn’t go by where I didn’t blame myself, I should have held you closer, should’ve never sent you away.” You scoffed in disbelief, crossing the room and pointed a finger accusing at him, pushing his chest in the process and he was more than willing to take the hits.

“If you cared enough you would have shown up for yourself you fucking bastard! Yes they fucking found me but I got out, the blood was from me killing those sick bastards. I disposed of their bodies, by myself might I add while you sat here just fucking the whore from Ireland not giving a shit about me! Do you know how much I struggled? I had no fucking money, none of you sent help for me or even tried but I’m more disappointed and angered with you! My fucking supposedly dearly beloved soon to be husband, I can’t believe I-“ His lips smashed against yours, silencing your words as his hands cupped your cheeks.

The taste of his whiskey, partially chapped, alluring lips caused your mind to flood with memories playing out like a movie scene in your head but you were stronger than this.

Pushing him away you slapped him once more, eyes entranced in one anothers in a moment of silence. Clasping his jaw, he shook it off like it was nothing. This wasn’t going to work this time, he couldn’t just seduce you and everything would be one happy fucking rainbow.

“Don’t fucking touch me. You have no right! I’m not some pawn in this twisted story Thomas.” 

He hated how his mind worked, he knew it was fucked up but was hoping his lips on yours would draw you back in, make you realize he was never once over you. It was his way of saying sorry.

“Y/N I will leave her, anything you’d like. I just want you. I need you Y/N.” You laughed in disbelief of the irony and disbelief of his choice of words and began to pace the room, your heart no longer aching but void of any feeling.

“Really? Isn’t that what you just said to her when I walked in the room? I won’t be the next chapter of another great Thomas Shelby redemption arc. I can’t. I refuse.” Tommy didn’t cry often but this time he couldn’t stop the singular tear from streaming down his cheek.

The air was heavy, the silence heavier, nothing but the clock ticking in the background filling your eardrums while your aching hearts split in half. 

You couldn’t be here anymore, didn’t want to be. How were you to love a man that threw you away so effortlessly. You knew him well enough to know he was just telling you what he believed you wanted to hear. Rule number one, don’t give your heart away to someone undeserving. He had taught you at a young age that true love was a fragile, difficult thing to come across, you just didn’t think he’d be the one to throw your away.

Making your exit, you wiped away the tears, refusing to give the public the satisfaction of knowing that Thomas Shelby had broken your heart as everyone said he would long ago.

He watched as you left him alone in the room with nothing but his thoughts, cursing himself for the man that he was as he watched the love of his life exit through the door for the final time.

[vynegar]

vyn 5th birthday ssr, part one

so… it has (yet again) been almost a year and a half since my last translation. honestly i didn’t expect to be back either since i’ve been taking a hiatus from reading CN server cards, so this is a surprise to me too! there were just some parts of this story i really liked and wanted to translate, so here we are. i hope you enjoy!

disclaimer (there is an extra one): this is a fan translation and i am not fluent in chinese, so keep in mind that there will be mistakes. please also note that although i’m translating this story, i don’t necessarily agree with everything that’s said in the story or with how it handles certain topics (mainly regarding the justice system and mental illness). feel free to let me know if you have questions, concerns, or comments.

do not repost without explicit permission. if you want to quote this or reference parts of the translation, credit and link back to me.

check my masterlist for more of my analysis/translations.

timestamps go along with the card video here. it’s not mine, please support the uploader ShiroNaya by liking/commenting/subscribing. also note that while the video uses the S-CN dub, the text is T-CN, so the on-screen text may have slight differences with the dub and my translation.

[PART ONE]

[0:31] Themis Law Firm

It was lunch hour, and the drowsy atmosphere spread through the office like a virus. Sunlight blurred the words on my screen until they were hard to distinguish. My thoughts were starting to wander, as the red circle I had drawn on my desktop calendar looked especially bright.

MC: (Come to think of it, it’s almost Vyn’s birthday…)

Last year we were stuck in Svart because of the Appointment Ceremony, but this year things were quiet. However, I couldn’t be sure if this was simply the quiet before the storm, or if Eirik had truly understood Vyn’s resolve after we escaped…

MC: (Either way… last year was tumultuous, but this year we should be able to peacefully celebrate Vyn’s birthday. Maybe I should ask him what his thoughts are…)

I unlocked my phone. Figuring that Vyn was probably still taking his afternoon nap, I instead started to search restaurants he might be interested in…

Kiki: Huh!? Is this real?!

The quiet office broke out into commotion; Kiki’s shout startled me so much I almost dropped my phone.

Kiki: MC, look at this.

Before I could react, my vision was completely obstructed by a phone screen Kiki reached over to show me.

???: I, Zheng Yan, have had my life ruined by false charges! My family was torn apart, and now they’re all dead! Do I really deserve all this?! Yes, I’ve made mistakes. But if this is all just karma, then where’s the karma for the people who harmed me?!

Kiki was showing me a livestream of a middle-aged man standing on a rooftop. His face was haggard, his hair was mostly white, and he made no attempt to conceal his pain and despair. The hoarse shouting was scattered to the fierce winds.

Zheng Yan: You’re all good people, but I… I just don’t want to live anymore!

MC: What?!

The man stepped over the railing. His cumbersome body seemed like he might lose his balance at any moment, causing several more people in the office to cry out in alarm.

MC: Is he livestreaming his suicide?!

Kiki: Yes. He’s only just started, but the stream already has over a million hits.

A livestreamed suicide made for a shocking headline. Before long, the law firm was filled with continuous sound of the man’s laments.

Zheng Yan: My son is just a boy, but because we didn’t have the money for his treatment, all he could do in the end was just wait at home to die. When he was in so much pain he couldn’t sleep, I was in prison. When he was on his deathbed crying out for his dad, I was still in prison! I’m despicable. I should just die! I’m sorry, Xiao Zhuo, I’m so sorry… (1)

He was crawling on the ground, weeping. I couldn’t help but frown at the sight of such a heartbroken father.

MC: What happened to him? What made him like this?

Kiki: It seems like he was wrongfully imprisoned in Svart, but he hasn’t gone into specifics.

MC: Svart?

The sobbing gradually stopped. Zheng Yan calmed himself, then looked back into the camera.

Zheng Yan: But before I die, I won’t let the person who harmed me get away with it!  I’m going to show everyone your true colors!

[flashback]

[3:39] Interrogation Room

The room was dim. With the only window facing a hallway, even the alternation of day and night had lost all meaning here. Worse still was the unrelenting rain – like hypnotic white noise, the incessant thunderstorm wore down even the most resilient of minds.

Zheng Yan didn’t know how long had passed, but based on the increasing impatience of his interrogator, Detective Jack, he figured his custody limit was almost up (2). Just hang in there a little longer, he thought. They had simply gotten the wrong guy. Soon, he would be free, and once he was out of the police station he could go home to Stellis. It was summer, which meant Xiao Zhuo’s birthday was coming up. Zheng Yan hadn’t seen his son since coming to Svart. Did his son still remember him…?

???: Ahem.

A coffee spoon clinked against the walls of the cup. The crisp sound immediately interrupted his wistful daydreams.

???: You seem distracted.

Ah yes, how could he forget. There was someone else in the room.

A young man sat across from him nonchalantly, holding a coffee mug. There was nothing remarkable about his appearance – except his unforgettable eyes. Zheng Yan had been to prison in Stellis and seen people with all sorts of looks in their eyes: those muddled with desire, those agonized by regret… but he had never seen eyes so clear that they made him feel ashamed. People had weaknesses because they had a goal, and this man seemed to have no goal.

Zheng Yan: Oh… what were we talking about…?

Although the atmosphere wasn’t tense, Zheng Yan still felt a sense of unease. The young man hadn’t revealed his name, only that he was a psychology consultant invited by the police and that he just wanted to chat with him. It didn’t sound very formal, almost as if the police were out of other options… However, it was still possible that this was just a smokescreen for something else. What had this person been thinking when Zheng Yan was lost in his own thoughts?

Young man: We were talking about how the different the weather is in Svart compared to Stellis. You are still not accustomed to it.

The young man easily brought up the trivial topic, wasting the police’s precious time.

Zheng Yan: Ah… that’s right, summer here is nothing compared to summer in Stellis! Xiao Zhuo’s mom would always make a big pot of mung bean soup around this time of year, and any leftovers we would make into mung bean popsicles. Whenever Xiao Zhuo got so hot he was sweating like a pig, he would eat one to cool off. You probably haven’t had mung bean soup before, have you? Back when I was in Stellis, it was too sweet for me, but now I miss the stuff.

Young man: I have tried making it before, but it is not as hot here as it is in Stellis. Its cooling effect was not that apparent.

Zheng Yan: Oho, sounds like you’re interested in Stellis! You’ve even tried making mung bean soup. I didn’t think people from Svart had even heard of the dish.

Young man: Is that enough to count as “interest?” Although, it is true that I would like to visit Stellis.

The man was reticent, but it was the first time he showed an emotion that Zheng Yan could not understand.

Zheng Yan: Sounds good! When you have a chance, come visit me at my home. People from Stellis are very welcoming to guests.

Young man: “Visit you at your home”… So you believe you still have a chance of leaving.

The man responded to Zheng Yan’s promise with an almost-instinctual disdain, as if he knew something that Zheng Yan didn’t. His tone wasn’t even that of a question, it was one of finality.

Zheng Yan: Why wouldn’t I? I already said, I didn’t kill anyone. And the police haven’t found any evidence – are they planning on arresting a good person?

Zheng Yan unwittingly rose his voice. Ever since he’d been detained, everyone had been acting like he would never be able to leave… Why? He hadn’t killed anyone! The police had it all wrong, and there was no way they found any evidence. Once the custody limit was up, he would be free to go. Xiao Zhuo was still waiting for his dad. Zheng Yan was certain he’d be able to go home, of course he’d be able to, he had to.

Young man: You, a good person? Perhaps Stellis and Svart have very different definitions of what it means to be a “good person.”

Zheng Yan quickly realized that getting emotional was playing right into his hands… But no matter how much he tried to control himself, the derision in the man’s words wounded him deeply. When he left Stellis, Xiao Zhuo had said the same thing – sobbing, he said that he didn’t want a bad person as his dad. Xiao Zhuo was only a child, so that undisguised loathing had stabbed Zheng Yan right in the heart. He couldn’t help but clench his fists.

Young man: I saw your Stellis criminal record. First burglary, then armed robbery… just one crime after another. Right now your child is only seven years old, but the sum of all the prison terms you have been sentenced to is longer than the time he has been alive.

Zheng Yan: I admit it, I made a lot of mistakes in the past. I lost my way. But for Xiao Zhuo’s sake, I turned over a new leaf – I’m a changed man now!

Young man: Hah…

The man snorted. His blatant ridicule provoked Zheng Yan once again, even after Zheng Yan’s effort to calm himself down.

Zheng Yan: Is something funny?!

Young man: Why of course. I would love to ask Xiao Zhuo whether he thinks someone sitting handcuffed in an interrogation room is a “changed man.” I am sure he would laugh even harder than I did.

Zheng Yan: You have the wrong guy! I didn’t kill anyone, the cops made a mistake!

That had provoked Zheng Yan. His handcuffs made a harsh sound as metal scraped metal, a reminder of how dire and helpless his current situation was.

Young man: The police would not arrest someone without a good reason. Only you and the deceased were in the office when the crime occurred, and you do not even have a proper alibi. Do you really think you can escape this?

The man’s index finger tapped the table sporadically. In contrast with Zheng Yan’s agitation, he seemed certain of his victory.

Young man: You are only this relaxed because you believe the crime occurred in a locked room. As long as the police are unable to determine how you committed the crime, you will be released once your custody limit is up. But were your efforts really that flawless? To be honest with you, your custody limit is going to be extended again. This means that the police will have more time to investigate.

Zheng Yan: You guys—!

On the verge of being consumed by rage, Zheng Yan was no longer rational enough to discern the veracity of that statement. The young man paused, suppressing his annoyance at having to waste time talking to Zheng Yan, then put on a charitable expression.

Young man: There is a difference between choosing to turn yourself in and having to confess. I am sure you understand this better than I do, considering all the experience you have.

Because he wasn’t a police officer, the young man spoke with no reservation. Each word was filled with contempt for someone with a criminal record.

Zheng Yan: How can I confess to something I haven’t done!

Young man: Stop with the useless defiance. Have you thought about how your son would feel? Maybe when you left Stellis for a fresh start, he still had a sliver of hope for you. But if he knew how much of a coward you were, how you were trying to escape the consequences of your actions, I bet he would wish he never had someone like you as his father. You see, all you fathers are like this. You claim that you have your children’s best interests at heart, but in reality you are nothing but selfish!

Zheng Yan: That’s not true!

Zheng Yan pounded the table, but nothing could stop the man’s scathing words. The young man was still speaking, but Zheng Yan could no longer hear it. Once again, he recalled Xiao Zhuo’s sobbing face.

“I don’t want a bad person like you as my dad!”

“He would wish he never had someone like you as his father.”

The two voices wove together until they seemed to come from one person, and Zheng Yan couldn’t take it any longer.

Zheng Yan: Shut up! You’re lying! There’s no way… Xiao Zhuo is my son, there’s no way he wouldn’t want his dad!

Young man: Who would acknowledge a father who brings nothing but shame?

The man’s voice seemed to get sharper and sharper. Zheng Yan wished he could cover his ears but was unable to. With tears and snot streaming down his face, he knew he looked a complete mess already, but he just wanted the man to shut up.

Zheng Yan: Shut up! Shut up!

Young man: There you go again, trying to run away. How utterly humiliating it is for a son to have a father like you!

Would confessing to the crime shut that man up? He just had to confess, and that man would shut up. Then he would confess – to the murder or to whatever other crimes, he would confess to them all.

Zheng Yan: I… I did it. I confess.

Young man: Now if only you had done that earlier.

Completely numb, Zheng Yan didn’t even know what he was saying. He mechanically pressed his thumbprint to the document with his confession, signing it. Then, as if possessed, he looked again toward the young man.

Young man: *sigh*

The man hadn’t left yet. Of course the victor would want to stay behind to examine his spoils.

Sensing Zheng Yan’s gaze, the man looked back unflinchingly.

[11:11] [screen blacks out]

Zheng Yan vaguely recalled a nature documentary he had once watched with Xiao Zhuo back in Stellis. The eyes of a cheetah were visible from where it was silently hiding. It wasn’t that it had no goal, but rather that it had already determined its plan.

[11:19] Themis Law Firm

The sun was still high in the sky, but Zheng Yan’s narrative was so expressive that I felt like I was really in that dark, damp interrogation room.

Kiki: Do you think this Zheng Yan is telling the truth?

Kiki clearly felt the same way I did, as she subconsciously rubbed her arms and shuddered.

Kiki: Our current justice system is so refined that I don’t believe a confession could be induced or coerced… but his story is just so horribly realistic. It’s hard not to believe him.

MC: Right. Even if he were coerced to confess during the interrogation… There’s still a lengthy trial afterwards, where Zheng Yan would have plenty of opportunities to retract his confession. If there were no evidence whatsoever, how could he get such a long sentence based only on some botched false charges? But still, he doesn’t seem like one of those suspects who puts on act in order to be exonerated…

As a lawyer, we had seen countless suspects who kept up the crocodile tears until they were faced with ironclad evidence, then finally confessed.  As a result, it was critical for us to learn how to distinguish those who were putting on a show from those who were sincere. But his words had even stirred experienced professionals like us, let alone the vast majority of the public in the comments. Immediately, the comments toward the person who forced the confession became vicious and hateful, the words they used downright vitriolic. 

MC: Pain and despair aren’t difficult for a criminal to feign, but fabricating other characters in a story is much harder. You can practically feel the pressure from the psychology consultant that he described. If he hadn’t personally met the man, then considering his rash personality, it would be very hard for him to describe him so vividly.

Kiki: Vivid? I didn’t really feel that way, I just thought that person sounded scary. Maybe it’s because you’re with Dr. Richter, who’s also a psychologist. You’ve seen so much of his work that the story affected you more.

Kiki was just making an offhand remark, but it had given an outlet to the discomfort I was feeling. It was impossible to ignore the connection after the mentions of Svart, psychology consults, and those comments about his father. And yet I was unable to associate my image of Vyn with that person who trampled all over someone’s mental defenses. There was no way that the Vyn I knew could be an immoral person who stereotyped others and lodged personal attacks.

MC: Maybe you’re right…

Zheng Yan was still tearfully describing what he experienced in prison and how he returned to Stellis to find both his wife and son had passed away. I could faintly hear police sirens in the background. It seemed that the police had arrived at the scene, and the situation was changing rapidly. Zheng Yan, however, was hopelessly consumed by his own fury.

Zheng Yan: At first when I got out of prison, I just wanted to forget about everything that had happened and be together with my family. But I no longer had a family. At first I just wanted to take my own life and end it all, but I never thought that… I’d come across news of that psychology consultant. I never thought that he would actually come to Stellis, and even become a famous professor at Stellis University.

As Zheng Yan recounted his enemy’s personal information, it wasn’t clear whether he could predict the waves that those details would make.

Zheng Yan: The person who harmed me is out there living a great life, and here I am, an innocent man made into a criminal! How is the world so unfair!

Each sentence crashed into me like a tidal wave. Dimly, I guessed what he was going to say next, but I felt I could no longer think.

Zheng Yan: I know that if I say his name on livestream, it might be considered slander. But I’m willing to take responsibility for everything that I say. I’ll pay the price, no matter what it is. It’s not like I have anything left to lose!

Zheng Yan paused before facing the camera head-on, as if making a declaration of war.

Zheng Yan: It took a lot of work to find out what that consultant is called nowadays.

If he hadn’t spoken out on this kind of platform, maybe the situation could still be salvaged. But here, like an arrow released from a bow, there was no turning back.

Zheng Yan: His name… is Vyn Richter!

With a “whoosh,” that arrow sliced through the air, piercing me right between my eyes.

[END PART ONE]

[PART TWO]

(1) Xiao (小) is a prefix to make a nickname out of the name Zhuo (卓)

(2) “Custody Limit” Big Data Lab entry (under Academia>Law): A custody limit is the legal time limit that an accused person can be detained while under investigation, prosecution, or trial. Under Svart law, the police can arrest a suspect for up to 48 hours. If the suspect isn’t formally charged within the time limit, they must be released. The time limit can be approved for extension, but cannot exceed 96 hours.

[sarawritestories]

Love Story (All Too Well Chapter 1 Pt 2)

Cassian X OC, Eris X OC

Summary: Under the Mountain, Estella, have flash backs to her 50 years in captivity, and losing hope she will ever see her lover. That is until a human girl shows up and give her and her brother Rhysand something they lost decades ago...Hope and in a matter of mere months she is reunited with the love of her life. The General of the Night Court Armies.

Content Warnings: MINORS DNI 18+ Torture, Dub con, Physical abuse, Under the mountain trials

A/N: Special Thanks to @milswrites and @eve175 for keeping me sane when I wrote this and honestly prevented me from scraping and starting over again!

Also Two post in one day from me! I am on a roll! And probably will be taking a small break 😅😅

All Too Well Master List ACOTAR Masterlist

The sound of Amarantha’s screams was like music to Eris Vanserra’s ears. He watched as Tamlin ripped her to shreds, glancing over to see Estella holding Feyre’s body close to her murmuring something to herself that his fae hearing couldn’t pick up on. The screams ceased and Tamlin walked back to where the young fae princess and the human cursebreaker.

Eris watched as Estella a tear-streaked face looked up at the High Lord of Spring her laced covered chest heaving, “I’m so sorry Tamlin.” She lowered her head in shame, as if this was her fault.

Tamlin lifted Estella’s face to meet his eyes, “This wasn’t your fault. Okay?”

Eris moved toward Amarantha’s mutilated body as he heard Estella let out a sob, “You asked me to protect her I failed.” Eris closed his eyes and rubbed at his chest hoping the ache would dissipate.

Eris looked over at Amarantha’s remains that were mostly ribbons of flesh and found what he was looking for as Tamlin hushed the Princess of Night. “You did no such thing, Stella, now please give her to me.”  Tamlin’s voice was tender as he knelt in front of the female holding his love’s corpse. “Come on, Flower.”  

Romeo Save Me Somewhere We Can Be Alone

Eris looked over at the dais to see Estella, half of her pinned to the back of her head, the rest of her hair had fallen past her breast in soft curls. Clad in a sheer orange gown, the fabric barely covering anything, especially how his high queen had her positioned on Tamlin’s lap. Her legs spread by his thighs, her back pressed against his chest. The Princess placed her hand over the Lord of Spring and Eris noticed his thumb moved over hers and began swiping periodically. As if he was trying to bring her comfort. The heir of Autumn knew those two were friends just never realized how close the pair was.

The red-haired male moved his gaze to the rest of the ballroom, fighting the urge to clench his fist, he caught his brother’s attention. His russet eyes met with a similar pair of Lucien, his metal eye zeroing in on him. The young Emissary of the spring court’s face was impassive though his eyes, held pure resentment. Lucien didn’t let his stare linger on his brother rather it moved to his two friends at the front of the room. Guilt threatened to take hold, but the eldest Vanserra brother forced it down in a box where he kept most of his emotions shutting the lid tight. Another person that he had let down.

“Estella, darling be a dear and entertain us.” Amarantha’s voice drew Eris his attention back to the princess of night. “Dance.”

Estella froze, “Your Majesty?”

Amarantha pinched her chin, “I said dance, has whoring you around my court made you dumb.” Eris gripped the side of his leg tightly as he glanced over to the High Lord of Night, his tanned face a mask of cool indifference, Eris gazed lowered to Rhysand’s hands to find his knuckles were white as a result of gripping the arms of his chair tightly.

“No, Your Majesty,” Estella responded. “Or perhaps you would prefer to give a dance to one person.”

Rhysand cleared his throat, “Your majesty, I would be-“

Amarantha whipped her head, “No.” She looked out to the assembly in the hall. “I will accept volunteers from anyone that is not related to her.”

Eris’s feet moved of his own accord and managed to reach the dais before Lucien could. As he bowed lowed, “Your majesty. Though I have no need for a dance, I would be honored.”

Amarantha’s voice had a jovial lilt to it, “Ah Eris Vanserra. Yes, you have my permission to use her, however, you please. Rise. Claim your whore.”

Eris rose to his full height and walked up to the young heiress. He held out a hand for her, “Come now, Viper.” Estella curled her mouth in a small snarl, though her eyes were vacant, hallow as if she mentally went somewhere else. Though she gripped his hand all the same. He yanked her off Tamlin’s lap and pressed her chest to his. His arm snaked around her waist, his fingertips grazing the bare skin of her hip. Electricity bolted up his arm at the contact though he easily ignored it.

“Estella, how do you thank Eris, for claiming you this evening.” Amarantha prodded; Eris didn’t miss her face contorted in a grimace. Before she looked up her ice blue eyes meeting his warm copper ones, life had returned to her, but Eris could feel her dread, it emulated around her like a shield. Though that didn’t stop her from lifting her hand sliding it up the red velvet embroidered vest he was wearing. Or when her soft, gentle fingers slid up his neck and through the silken strands of his long hair.

She rose on her tippy toes her plump lips inches away from his own, “Thank you, Prince Eris,” Estella closed the distance kissed him. Eris slid his hand up her back, lightly grazing her spine as his hand wrapped around her raven-colored locks and yanked her back hard enough to cause a gasp from the princess’ mouth, giving the Autumn Court Heir access to slide his tongue against her. She tasted as sweet as he hoped she would. His tongue clashing with hers he could have sworn a small moan escaped her throat.

The need for oxygen and knowing that the two had put on enough of a show for their audience, Eris pulled away, with a smirk as Estella opened her eyes her pupils blissed out from their moment. Before he could ask, Amarantha, was waving her hand, “Eris you and your pet are dismissed for the evening.”

Eris bowed, and Estella followed suit, aware that it would expose her backside to the fae standing behind them. Eris placed a hand on the small of her back and led her out into the hall. The two had walked down for a few moments the sound of Estella’s skirt swishing against her skin, her hands clasped in front of her, when she asked, “What do you plan on doing with me, Princeling?”

Exhaustion weighed heavily on the prince’s body, as he sighed, “Sleep, My Little Viper. We’re going to sleep.”

This Love Is Difficult, But It's Real

The whole court ogled around and watched as the High Lords of Prythian dropped a kernel of power on the human girl that saved them all. Eris Vanserra on the other hand watched as his brother held onto the Princess of Night as her sobs softened. He could see Lucien whispering in her ear though from where he stood even his fae hearing wouldn’t be able to decipher. Ignoring the spectacle Eris walked over to one his handmaidens.

She bowed when he approached, saying nothing, he gripped the plump woman’s sleeve and began wiping the blood of the Tiara he grabbed. Once he was satisfied, he turned and walked over to Lucien and Estella. The youngest Vanserra son tightened his hold on Estella when Eris approached. “Relax, brother, today is a joyous day. We can put aside our differences for now.” Lucien growled, “Feel free to hate me again tomorrow.”

Estella’s eyes pierced the Autumn Prince’s and Eris presents the tiara glancing down at the lace covered bodice of her dress that dipped down to her stomach, “I believe this belongs to you, Little Viper.”  He smirked as he met her eyes again. She glanced at his hands and reached out to grab the accessory from him, tearing herself from Lucien’s arms as she did so. Eris took a step back and dangled the tiara above her head, “Allow me.” He motions for his index finger to spin around. She obeyed and crossed her arms, the dark red silk of her dress swirling as she did. Her scent of Ocean mist and Jasmine invaded his nose he fought the notion to bask in her scent, as he placed the tiara on top of her head. Stepped closer and noticed the sharp breath she took as his nose brushed against her ear, “There now you look fit to rule a kingdom, Princess.”

He could hear her heartrate quicken as he took a step away and once more as cheers erupted through the cave. The three of them turned to find Feyre embraced in Tamlin’s arms, ears pointed heartbeat strong and steady. “By the Cauldron.” Lucien whispered and ran up to his friends. Leaving the two alone.

“I have to thank you, Princeling.” Estella’s voice broke the tension.

“For?”

“Giving me brief little moments of reprieve from this nightmare.” Her piercing eyes met his, “I am in your debt.”

Eris was about to dispute it when in a flash arm wrapped around Estella pulling her into a tight embrace, had he not seen the matching raven-colored hair, the heir of Autumn would have prepared for an attack. Rhysand pulled away as if remembering where he had put his hands in his pockets assessed his sister. “Are you hurt?”

Estella turned to Eris only to find he was already gone. She sighed and looked back at her brother. “I’m fine, Rhys.”

He nodded and, in her mind said, The High Lords are meeting to figure out the next steps. I don’t know how long that will take. Then out loud he said, “As your High Lord, I’m demanding you head home immediately and make sure our court held up in our absence.” Estella noticed the hint of a smirk on his face, Tell Cassian hello for me, and that I’ll be home soon.

Estella’s face lit up, she kissed her brother on the cheek, “Thank you, High Lord.” She took a step, looked back toward Lucien and Tamlin. Both males embracing Feyre. Green eyes met hers and with a dip of his chin she bolted and winnowed home.

I’ll Be Waiting

The Summer night breeze kissed her skin as she arrived in front of the town home. Home. She was home. Picking up her skirts she bolted through the front door of the town home. She could hear laughter in the dining room pause when the door slammed shut. Before anyone could get up, she ran into the room. Gasp and fallen utensils were the only thing she heard before, Morrigan her hair in perfect waves and dressed in her signature red gown rose from her seat, her eyes turning glassy. “So, it’s true? It’s over?” She asked.

Estella wiped the stray tears that had begun to fall, “Yeah. Its over.” She croaked as Mor pulled her into a bone crushing hug. “Fuck, I have missed you guys.”

A pair of scarred calloused hands tugged at her bare shoulders, “Don’t hog her, Mor.” Azriel’s deep voice joked as he pulled her into an embrace of his own. He pulled away and she felt the cool kiss of his shadows up and around her body, checking for injuries. He pressed his forehead to hers, “Its good to have your home.” He pressed his lips to her forehead and guided her to a chair. He began to make her a plate of food, as he asked, “Where’s Rhys?”

Estella eyes grew wide with the spread Azriel placed before her. Taking a heaping bite before she answered, she couldn’t help but moan as the warm food met her mouth. The bountiful flavor bursting on her tongue. She looked at Mor, and Az as she swallowed her food and said, “He said there would be a meeting with the High Lord’s about what is going to happen next, no doubt trying to get Amarantha’s” She fought the cringe at the sound of the female’s name coming out of her mouth, “men collected and figuring out what to do with them.”

Amren’s cold calculating voice was a welcome reprieve, “Why didn’t you stay with him?”

Estella turned her head to the female and smiled, “He wanted me to come home, let you know he would be back soon.” Estella, smiled and looked at the table, acutely aware of the empty missing, “Where is he?”

Azriel gave her a warm smile and placed his hand on top of her own his hazel eyes ablaze with warmth and happiness, “He went to the Illyrian camps a few weeks ago. He has been spending a lot of time up there to personally train his soldiers.  He says its to make sure they have the best training we can offer.”

Estella felt guilt bubble in her stomach, “But?”

Azriel’s face fell slightly, his shadows curling around him as a form of comfort, “He had been struggling staying in Velaris for too long. It Reminded him of you and the future you two were planning. He missed you.”

“We all did, Girl.” Amren corrected. Estella’s blue eyes met her swirling silver ones, “Don’t look so surprised. Your quick wit against these overgrown bats was impressive. It was nice to not be the only one with a silver tongue.”

Estella blinked; she couldn’t remember a time when Amren had outwardly complimented her. Though she wasn’t about to question the tiny one’s motives, she went back to shoveling food in her mouth. She went for seconds and cleaned that plate too, Azriel grabbed her plate when she attempted to go for more, “Pace yourself, you’ll make yourself sick.”

“The food was awful down there.” If she got any that was. She didn’t miss the concerned glances from her friends when she arrived. She hadn’t looked in a mirror in 50 years and she was afraid to, terrified at what her reflection might reveal. How badly Amarantha’s abuse taken a toll on her physically as it had emotionally.  Estella met Azriel’s gaze and he gave her a smile, kissing the side of her head. Estella cleared her throat, “Um, I am going to go upstairs and wash up.”

Mor gave her a warm smile, one she never thought she would see again, “Your room has not been touched, your clothes have been routinely cleaned.”

Estella rubbed her chest and the base of her throat fighting the emotion threatening to come up. “Thank you.” 

Azriel cupped her cheek. Stroking his thumb against her cheek, “Welcome home, Princess.”

She wrapped her arms around Az and squeezed him tightly. “I missed you. I never thought I would see you again.”

“Likewise.” He pressed his hand on the back of her head holding her close. “Fuck.” She pulled away at the Shadow  Singer’s expletive and saw that his eyes lined with silver. “I’m just..” He took a deep breath, “I’m just happy to see you.”

“Me too, Az. I missed your face.” He laughed wiping his eyes, as she looked to all three of her friends, “Not a day went by that I didn’t think about you.” The two females rose from their seats and as if they were reading each other’s thoughts smothered the young female into a tight embrace, where she let her tears flow freely.

Home. She was finally, Home.

On The Balcony In Summer Air

The cool night air kissed Estella's skin for the first time in fifty years as she leaned against the balcony the silk of her red night gown doing nothing to prevent the chill, but the female couldn’t bring herself to care. Looking up at the night sky. She couldn't help but smile as tears pickled her pale blue eyes. This is what it felt like:

To be free

"Hello, Sweetheart." The low timbre of a familiar voice elicited a sob to escape her throat. Turning from the view of the city, she met glassy hazel eyes, bruises darkening his tanned skin under them. His wings were tucked back, but his siphons glowed.

She gave him a watery smile, "Hello, General." She covered her mouth to stifle the sobbed. Not being able to contain herself, she leaped into his awaiting arms and legs wrapping around his waist. Burying her face in the crook of his neck.

Cassian's arm held her up by her waist, his free hand pressing the back of her head holding her close, tears streaming down his own face. Estella pulled away and pressed her lips to his.

Cassian pulled away, pressing his forehead to hers, "Welcome home, Estella." And his lips reattached to hers as he took her to their shared bed. Plopping her down on the bed his hazel eyes met her blue ones he swiped a strand of hair from her face.

She cupped her hands against his face, and took a moment to look at him, his eyes had dark circles under them, as if he hadn’t had a good night’s rest in the last fifty years. He had grown out a beard the scruff rough against her skin. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”  She whispered.

Cassian cupped his hand against her cheek, tears spilling down his face. “I’m thinking that you are just as beautiful as the last time I saw you.” He kissed her forehead, “I’m thinking that I can’t believe that you are right here in my arms.” She closed her eyes as he pressed his lips to her cheek. “I’m thinking…” He took a deep breath, and she opened her eyes. “I’m thinking, how I never thought I would see you again. And yet here you are.”

Estella smiled, “Here I am.” She took his hand and placed it over her heart and he closed his eyes as he felt its steady beat. “Cassian, not a day went by where I didn’t wish to be with you. To be in your arms.” Tears threatened to fall but she forced it down. “I missed you so much.”

Cassian shushed her and placed his lips on to hers in a gentle kiss, “It’s okay, Sweetheart, I know. I missed you. More than you could ever know.” He kissed her again, “And just so we’re clear when your brother comes home. I am beating the shit out of him.”

“Cass?”

“Hmm?” He smirked.

She gripped the collar of his leathers and pulled him closer to him, he growled in approval as she whispered on his lips, “Do not say my brother’s name while you’re in my bed.” And she clashed her lips onto his.

Estella ran her fingers through Cassian’s curls as the General was fast asleep on his stomach.  Sliding out of her bed, she opened the drawer of her nightstand, grabbed a piece of parchment, and walked back out onto her balcony. Looking back once more she made sure that Cassian remained asleep as she turned back to the parchment in her hands. Opening the parchment thinking about the author of the note.

Estella awoke back in her cell. The memory of Autumn leaves and cinnamon returning to her.  She adjusted to a sitting position her brows furrowing as she felt something in her palm. Opening the note, her breath quickened as bile threatened to rise as the question, she asked the night before came to the forefront of her mind:

“Then what do you want with me, Princeling?”

One sentence gave her his answer in perfectly neat handwriting.

I want you, My Little Viper.

Estella folded the paper and threw it on the opposite side of the cell. Pulling her knees up to her chest she had to question just how far the Prince of Autumn would go to get what he wants.

Estella sighed, staring down at the swirls of Eris’ handwriting, questions swirling in her mind.  As if she summoned him with her thoughts; a note appeared in front of her. Grabbing the parchment, she unfolded it.

Will you ever truly be free, Little Viper?

Estella glared at the parchment hoping it would erupt into flames. Folding both notes, she walked into her room, placed the notes in her nightstand, and went back to bed. The General of the Night Court’s armies arm pulling her against his chest. Though luscious red hair and russet eyes plagued her dreams.

You’ll Be The Prince and I’ll Be the Princess

After fifty long years Eris, stepped into the familiar room of orange, red and gold hues of his study. Twelve heads perked up as they saw Eris step in. The familiar dark eyes of his hounds perked up and all of them ran to their owner’s side. He bent down on a knee and allowed each of them a total of one lick per dog. Unable to fight the smile from his features of reuniting with his companions. “Hello dear Friends. I have missed you dearly.”   They all swished their tails at the sound of their master’s voice.

Home after Amarantha’s fall, the High Lords met for two days in a row and after sitting in a room with massive egos, it was nice to return home to the quiet of his study.  He walked over to his desk the mountain of paperwork there. He sighed and leaned against his chair closing his eyes, only for the ice blue eyes and raven-black hair plagued his brain. He pressed his hands to his eyes and groaned.

He sat up and removed his hands from his eyes, as an idea began to form. Opening his drawer to find his favorite quill and ink pots right where he left them. Pulling them out along with the stack of parchment. Eris began to write, as soft pink lips and the scent of Ocean Mist and Jasmine lingered in his mind as his quill began swirling across the parchment:

My Sweet Little Viper. My Beautiful Mate.

It’s A Love Story, Baby, Just Say Yes

To Be Continued...

Story tags: @milswrites @eve175 @melsunshine @believinghurts @awkardnerd @historygeekqueen @mischiefmanagers @mybestfriendmademe @cauldronboilmetakemetovelaris @glitterypirateduck @littlestw01f @mal-adaptive-dreams @lilah-asteria @hellodarling1357 @shadowdaddies @bxm-1012 @inkyvelvet @chasing-autumns-chill @ghostwritermia @esposadomd @anuttellaa @slytherintaco @marigold-morelli @saltedcoffeescotch

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[tkwrites]

Messages - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Photo from Pinterest

Title: Messages 

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Pre-established: Quinn x Sarah

Warnings: smut (18+ only), mutual masturbation, phone sex (sort of) 

Summary: Missing him something fierce, Sarah sends Quinn a video of herself in his bed. 

Word count: 1,600

Comments: 2 stories in 2 days? Who am I? In all seriousness, this has been sitting in my drafts for a while, and tonight felt like a good night for it to go into the world. 

This snapshot is way out of the beginning-ish timeline I’ve been sticking to for a while. Hope you enjoy! 

Messages

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

Don’t listen until you’re alone. 

Quinn was always interested when Sarah messaged him in the middle of the day. She was usually in school, so if she had something to say it was important. 

This cryptic message, though, really piqued his interest. 

A few seconds later, a video came through. The preview was black. He glanced around at the guys on the bus. No one seemed to be paying him any attention, and his airpods were in, so no one would overhear. 

It was likely just her telling him a story with a lot of foul language. She always prefaced those this same way, not wanting anyone else to overhear despite his insistence that anyone he hung around with wouldn't be bothered. 

So, he took the chance and pressed play. 

Nothing changed. The screen stayed black, and it was quiet for a long while. He clicked to make sure it was playing. The progress bar at the bottom informed him there were two minutes left. The lighting was so dim, he wasn’t sure if he could see something in the top corner of the screen or not. 

Then came the sound of her breathing - hitched, quick breaths that reminded him distinctly of being in bed with her. Tiny little moans followed. The kind that always made him want to make her really moan. 

He gulped. 

Eyes glued to the screen, Quinn listened as her breathy moans got louder. 

Suddenly, it clicked. The video was of the ceiling. Of his ceiling. He could just make out the outline of the light fixture over his bed. The idea of her touching herself in his bed almost made him moan out loud. 

His thoughts raced along with his heart. 

He'd given her a key a few weeks before after she told him she liked to study there - it was so beautiful and so much quieter than her place or anywhere on campus. There was no point in it sitting empty while he was on the road, especially when she studied there when he was home, anyway. 

Never in a million years had he thought she would be masturbating in his bed. 

“Quinn,” her voice swam through his veins. His tongue felt heavy with the longing to kiss her and his suit pants grew uncomfortably tight. 

Holy shit. 

Holy shit. 

HOLY SHIT.

He clicked out of the video, cutting off her next words that sounded like they might be, "I wish-"

He couldn't listen to this here. They were just about to get to PNC. He would have to walk into the arena in less than 10 minutes with photographers and social media teams taking pictures and videos. He couldn’t walk off the bus with his lower half standing at attention like this. He’d be all over the internet in no time. Chirped by the team and his friends for the rest of his life. 

Closing his eyes, he thought about swimming in the lake, taking a cold shower and his high school math teacher. 

His body finally relaxed. 

What the hell, Sarah? He messaged her then, ignoring the pull in his stomach to click on the video again. He could do it later, after a win over the Hurricanes. I’m on the bus.

I TOLD YOU TO LISTEN ALONE!

No one else heard. WHY would you send this in the middle of the day? And tell me not to watch it! Of course I’m watching it with that warning. 

Deciding she ought to just be honest, Sarah chewed her lip as she typed, I didn’t want to lose the nerve. I felt like if I waited until tonight, I might chicken out. I thought you were in the arena already. 

Quinn almost asked her why she was sending it in the first place. They’d had phone sex only once, and that was just two nights ago, when he had an evening off with no roommate and could catch her before bed with the time change. It had been exciting and awkward, but ultimately fulfilling for both of them. Even still, he didn't really expect it to happen again until his next road trip.

I’m sorry if I messed up your pre-game.

A smile melted onto his face. You didn't. Caught me off guard is all.

I did warn you. 

“What’s got you blushing, Huggy?” Connor asked, leaning over to look at the phone screen.

At least 10 heads swiveled to look at him, and despite his attempts to remain cool, Quinn felt his face get warmer. 

“Nothing,” he said, slipping his phone into his pocket. 

Connor arched an eyebrow, but didn't press. 

In the locker room, before putting his phone away, he sent her one last message before the game. 

Miss you. Call you after. 

Finally, alone in his hotel room after a hard fought win over the Hurricanes, Quinn called Sarah. It was nearly midnight in Vancouver. She might be sleeping, but he always called, even if just to leave a message. 

“Hey,” she answered, voice husky and groggy. 

“Hi.”

“How do you feel?”

“Better now,” he said sitting on the end of the bed, glad to be out of his suit and in his basketball shorts.

“You played so good tonight, Q.”

“Thanks,” he said. “How was your day?” 

He knew he should let her go back to sleep, but he wanted to keep talking a little longer. Missing her was a physical thing to him now. An elephant in every hotel room.

“Fine,” she said before yawning loudly. “Nothing major to report.”

“Other than you sent me a video so I could hear you getting yourself off in my bed.” He tried to say it nonchalantly, but it still came out a little desperate. 

She laughed. “True. That was a pretty big thing.”

“Why did you do it?” he asked. “Not that I'm complaining, but you've never done anything like this before."

Sarah rolled over, switching the phone to her other ear. 

“Honestly? I'm ovulating and this morning I was so horny I couldn't concentrate on anything else. I missed you so much and your bed smells so much like you and I kept thinking, wouldn't it be hot if Quinn could hear me right now?”

He hummed. 

“And then I thought, he could, technology is a thing. So I started recording and just kept thinking about you in your hotel room, getting off to the sound of me and my vibrator. And God, it was so hot. I mean, you know.”

“I don't,” he said, his voice pitched higher. He didn't even need her video. He was getting worked up right now. 

“You haven't listened yet?”

“I haven't been alone.” It was the worst part of playing a team sport. He had so little time to himself.  

She giggled, but it was interrupted by another yawn. 

“Go back to sleep,” he said. “I'll call you tomorrow. Just wanted to say goodnight.”

“Night Quinn. I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Sarah. Four more days.”

“Four more days,” she repeated. “I can't wait to see you.”

“Me either. Get some sleep now.”

“Okay,” she murmured.

Hitting the end button, he flopped back on the bed and sighed. Before Sarah had come into his life, he would have been out partying, taking in the nightlife with the prospect of a late afternoon practice the next day, and nothing to worry about in the morning. Now, it felt pointless. He wanted Sarah. He didn’t want anyone else. He never really liked hookups, even when he was younger and single - it took him too long to open up to people - but traveling away from her was harder than he had expected. 

He lay there for a minute thinking of her before his curiosity and excitement got the best of him and he played the video. Setting the phone next to him, he closed his eyes. It was easy to imagine her in his bed that morning, wanting him. 

“Quinn,” she moaned, “I wish you were here.” 

“I wish I was too,” he groaned, running his hand up and down his length that he’d pulled out of his shorts.

She began to grunt softly. It was something she always did when she was trying to get to the right spot or angle. 

His breathing began to huff. 

“Do you like it, Q?” 

“Yes,” he all but moaned. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was glad he’d clicked off the video earlier that day. If he’d gotten this far into it, he wasn't sure he could have stayed quiet. 

Here, in the dim light of a nice hotel he didn’t remember the name of, the sound of the city all around him, Quinn let his mind focus on Sarah, imagining it was her hand on his hard cock rather than his own. 

“I can’t wait to have you home, and have you inside me.” 

His mind flew into a frenzy. He was never deleting this video.

She made a louder noise then, and whined, “Quinn, I’m so close.” 

God, he was too. 

The tell-tale sound of her coming orgasm spilled out of his phone - sheets rustling, panted breaths, little moans and mewls. 

Her voice tipped high, and he knew she was riding a wave of pleasure. 

He squeezed his hand, trying to get a more realistic feeling. Grunting, gutterally and deep, he spilled onto his own chest. 

His breathing slowed down as he lay there, feeling his heart pound in his chest. 

“I miss you, Quinn," she said before the phone went silent. 

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[gaysindistress]

Daffodils

summary: My mark, a bouquet of daffodils, is the one thing that I have had to cling to through the years. It’s a promise of eternal love, a partnership made by the gods. I thought I’d lost him in 1945 but here he is in 2023, alive and well (kinda).

pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader 

warnings: angst, fluff, the feels, soulmate au

word count: 7.5k

Main masterlist

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest

For as long as I could remember I had daffodils on my left arm, the mark in the shape of four pale flowers in a bouquet being with me since birth. My mother would tell me stories of couples with matching marks, destined to find each other in this life and the next. She’d trace over her own mark that tied her to my father when she told me these stories and engrained the importance of the mark into me. “We are not whole until we find our match,” she’d say whilst sending my father loving glances that were returned by a wink and blown kisses. She would tell me about that the pull that you’d feel when you were close to your match. The proximity would tug at you like a string until you reached the end and met your match. My father would laugh while recalling how he nearly ran her over when he had been chasing that string, too caught up in the moment to look where he was going. Their situation was unusual in that he was a god, meaning he would live long after she died and would lose the one person made for him. It saddened her to know that one day she would leave her daughter and beloved husband behind but living with them for any length of time was enough for her. 

When she did die, the mark on my father’s arm did not fade but morphed into a new one, presenting him with a new match to find. Somewhere out in the universe, my mother had been reborn and she would be waiting for him to find her. Gods had the special ability to have several matches throughout their lifetime as they lived far longer than humans. If they did have a human match, they would be reborn so the god and them could be together for eternity. My fate was undecided being half human, half god; I could either find a god match or a human match that would not be reborn. The cruel reality of my situation halted my efforts to find my match many times. 

How could I go off and find them if I would only have a few decades with them? 

How could I allow myself to feel this great love, only to have it ripped away and never to be felt again? 

For many years, I chose not to look and pretended the daffodils were non-existent. Not only that but I couldn’t feel the pull to find my match for nearly two centuries. Curiosity, sure, drove most of my searching but that need to find my other half wasn’t there until 1917. I had been tending to my flower garden, trying to reconnect with the earth again when I felt the burn in my arm. The daffodils were glowing and burning from under my linen sleeve, telling me that my match had been born and from that day I felt the pull that my mother described. It drove me to leave my mountain cabin and find refuge in Brooklyn, New York. 

Occasionally I would feel a burn in my mark, letting me know they were close but it never led anywhere. I’d search a twenty-foot radius when it’d happen only to turn up with nothing, no leads to who they might be. Even though I knew I was in the right city and that they would have a matching mark, I had nothing else to go off of, leaving me distraught and lost. Once again I had allowed myself to get my hopes up only for them to be violently destroyed. My father, ever the wise man, would try to console me, telling me that these things take time and that I needed to be patient. Both of us knew that the sudden shift in 1917 meant they were human and thus I would only have a limited amount of time with them. Both of us never spoke of that fact and tried to find relief in the fact that I finally had a lead, no matter how small. 

Born March 10th, 1917 in Brooklyn, New York, and would have a daffodil bouquet on their left arm. 

The 20s came and went with no sign of them. The 30s passed in a blur with still nothing. The 40s were here and alas I had nothing. The first world war had not been a concern for me because they wouldn’t have been old enough to join however with the fast-approaching second world war, anxiety gripped me every day. If they were a man, they would surely be drafted and I would lose nearly any chance to meet them. On the other hand, if they were a woman, this world was not ready to welcome queer matches. Either way, I looked at it, nothing eased the fear and uncertainty that I lived with every day.

Laurel is the first person I told about a part of my dilemma. She doesn’t know about my god heritage but knows that I haven’t found my match yet and is becoming increasingly worried about the U.S. joining the war. The strawberry blonde laughs at my distressed expression as we pour out our hearts to each other in her small living room. She’d invited me over for dinner, at least that's what she claims but the coffee table full of wine and snacks led me to believe she needed a girl’s night. 

“I don’t really know why you bother with all of that stuff. Just live and have fun,” she declares as she refills her wine, the sweet but tangy aroma filling the room, “Don’t go around checking everyone’s arm and worrying about it.”

“My parents had such a great story….”

She lets out a loud and dramatic sigh, “Yeah yeah whatever. Honey, you need to just go out, find yourself a man, and dance the night away. There are hundreds if not thousands of handsome men in uniforms milling around, I bet we could find you one to get your mind off of this mystery person.”

“Laurel I don’t want a pointless fling, you know that.”

Sitting up and leaning forward, her eyes get a mischievous look in them, “I have a date tomorrow night and he has a friend. We could make it a double date! Oh, honey, it would be so much fun!”

I agree rather unwilling and she jumps up, shrieking as she grabs the phone to call her date to tell him it’s now a double date. 

Waves of patchouli, carnation, and vanilla filter through Laurel’s bedroom as she dances around while getting ready. She had pretty much drowned herself and me in her perfume when I walked in, claiming it was the best perfume on the market. 

“Sit we have to fix your hair,” demanding, she points to the vanity chair. 

“There’s nothing wrong with my hair.”

Red nails grip my shoulders and push me to the chair, “You can’t go out with days old pin curls.”

“They’re not days old and it’s how Veronica Lake wears her hair,” I swat at her hands as she tries to put my hair into a chignon. 

“Fine. Don’t complain to me if Steve doesn’t flirt with you.”

“Steve?”

“Oh yeah,” she’s moved on from my hair to lipstick, “You know my next-door neighbor, Steve, right? Well, his best friend is in town on leave and we may have run into each other a few days back.”

“Oh my god, Laurel! Why didn’t you tell me it was Steve?”

Shrugging her shoulders, “Why does it matter? He’s sweet and Bucky is to die for.”

“That’s the problem; he’s too sweet to be dragged around on a double date. I can’t go, I’m sorry,” I try to get up but she stops me with a very intense look on her face. 

“No, you’re going and you’re going to flirt with sweet Steve and get your mind off of that stupid mark,” she shakes my left arm for dramatic effect in the mirror, “Now take this lipstick, put it on, and change into one of my dresses.”

“I’ll put on the lipstick but I’m not wearing on your dresses.”

“You’re wearing a rather boring day dress. Flash a little cleavage for once.”

I roll my eyes at her crude wording as I finish putting on the red lipstick. Sitting back to look at myself in the mirror fully, I hate to admit that she might be right. The plain blue dress only has a hint of embellishment with the pearls that trail from the waist to the hem. In comparison to the white floral dress that Laurel has on, I do blend in with the background but that might be in part due to her much more outgoing personality. She doses us with another round of perfume, satisfied that we’ll smell absolutely irresistible. There’s a knock at the front door, pausing both of us and she lets out a small shriek of glee. 

“They’re here!” 

She’s bouncing like a toddler at the door, stopping only to take a deep breath and calm herself before swinging the door wide open to reveal our dates for the night. Pressing superficial kisses to their cheeks, she steps aside to let them in and takes the flowers her date is holding to put into a vase. I emerge from the bedroom with the mark on my arm starting to burn and itch as I get closer to the trio. The men have their backs to me but I recognize the shorter one as Steve Rogers, the aforementioned next-door neighbor. Beside him is the flirt of Brooklyn, James Bucky Barnes dressed in his sergeant’s uniform with that dazzling smile directed at Laurel. 

The burn in my arm becomes unbearable when my eyes land on them and whatever heartbeat I had becomes even more erratic as I realize what’s happening. I’ve met Steve several times and never once has my mark burned like this. Sure it might itch when I walk past his door every now and then but I brushed it off. The only other person that could be causing this is Bucky, my best friend’s date.  My heart stops altogether when he turns to greet me, extending out his hand in a true gentleman’s manner, “Hi I’m Bucky, it’s nice to meet the girl Laurel has told me so much about.”

I’m completely and uttered screwed.

“I hope it’s been all good things,” I take his hand whilst hiding my left arm behind my back. If he notices it, he doesn’t say but there’s a flash of discomfort on his face when we shake hands. Of course, the first time we touch sends sparks through us both as if to say “Hey look it’s your match! Congrats!” He withdraws his hand and his brilliant blue eyes linger on me for too long as Laurel tries to usher us all out so we can start the night. 

Steve appears at my side, offering his arm, “It’s good to see you again. At least this time I’ll actually have someone to talk to.”

Grabbing my cardigan from the kitchen counter, I slip it on to hide my mark and take his arm while sending him a gentle smile, “I imagine you get dragged around on these dates a lot.” “Not as much as you’d think.”

“Well, I’m glad it’s you that I’ll be with all night. Given her track record, I was worried I might’ve ended up with a criminal or worse, a marine.”

He coughs to cover up his laugh, earning a look from the couple in front of us, “I feel like there’s a story there.”

“Not a very exciting one I’m afraid,” I whisper as we walk down the stairs of the apartment complex. 

Laurel breaks our little moment, spinning to face us as we step out onto the sidewalk, “How about some dancing?”

“I second that,” the laugh that comes from Bucky is like a dagger tearing through me. That laugh is meant to be reserved for me. That smile is meant to be directed at me. That look in his eye is meant for me but he is not mine at this moment and I don’t know if he’ll ever be mine. The chemistry between them is real, clear to see by the way they melt into each other when they start to walk again. With her at his side, he would never see me or the mark I’m certain we both wear and I have to accept that. 

Steve senses my hesitation and clears his throat to get my attention, “Is everything okay?”

“Oh yeah, just colder than I expected is all,” I force a smile as I reassure him, tucking into his side even though we’re similar in height. 

It’s his turn to be nervous as we continue down the street, “I don’t want this to come out the wrong way but I saw your mark.”

I stiffen beside him, “What?”

“I really don’t mean to overstep but I think you should know he has the same one,” he says looking straight ahead and I follow his eye line to his best friend who is leaning down to whisper something into Laurel’s ear. Giggles erupt from her as the heat of my body disappears and anxiety takes over me. I can hear my heartbeat pound in my ears as my breathing starts to become labored. Steve fails to keep me upright as my knees go weak and I stumble. My knees and hands catch the rough pavement, ripping at the soft skin and causing blood to leak from the cuts. The streetlights are blurred around me and all of the noise surrounding us becomes muffled. Water starts to envelop me from within, making it harder to swim to the surface of my emotions. Pain rockets from the torn skin and the mark when a warm and strong body pulls me off the ground into them. The sleeves of my cardigan are bunched up, revealing stems of my daffodils as his hands tightly grip my biceps to keep me steady. 

“Hey hey are you okay?” his angelic voice barely breaks through my haze and I can’t help the tears that escape from my eyes. Concern fills his face as he bends down to look me in the eye and survey my expression. The sparks from our handshake are tenfold now as he holds me, only fueling my anxiety until it’s unbearable. Pushing him away with the little strength I have, I stagger back and blindly wipe at them with the back of my hand. 

“I’m so sorry. I have to go,” is the only thing I can muster the strength to say. Laurel calls after me as I take off down the street and disappear into a cab, leaving my unknown lover behind. 

In the weeks following the rather disastrous date, Laurel had tried to call and drop by to see how I was doing. The embarrassment of it all kept me from answering her calls and it took all that I had to not just open the door when she called my name. A few times at the start she’d even brought Steve and Bucky with her, trying to use them as bait to get me to open the door. Every time they’d leave, I’d slide down the door, hand clasped over my mouth to muffle the sobs. Every fiber in me burned to see him again, to feel his presence around me just one more time before I’d have to let him go. 

At some point, Laurel stopped calling and coming over. She claimed she couldn’t handle the pain of trying to maintain our friendship anymore. It angered her that I wouldn’t open up about what happened that night or even try to get to know her new boyfriend better. She would go on and on about how it was ridiculous that I wanted to find my soulmate so badly but when it came to her, I wouldn’t be supportive. Hypocrite was one of her many names for me towards the end but I learned to ignore it. I knew that if I let her in, I would fold and tell her everything from the matching marks to who my parents were. I couldn’t bear to see her face when she realized that her new boyfriend was my soulmate. 

When she returned to her normal life, Steve began to send me letters to update me on him and Bucky but they slowed as he became busier and busier with being Captain America. I could feel the intense trauma that Bucky experienced but reading about it in the letters, relief washed over me knowing that Steve was able to protect him when I could not. Eventually, they stopped altogether and my connection to Bucky ended completely, leaving me in the dark and alone with vague emotions that had no context. 

1945 had been the worst year to date for me. I could still feel Bucky every now and then, waves of joy and desperation washing over me. It all stopped one bleak day in 1945. Collapsing to the ground as I did that day, I clutched my chest as my heart punched in my chest. The singe of my arm turned into a volcanic eruption whilst the pure terror Bucky felt tore me apart. Coworkers rushed to my side, all awaiting my reason for why I fell so suddenly. The same thing that kept me from speaking up during that date kept me from explaining. 

“I don’t… I don’t know. I’m sorry, I….I need to go,” stuttering, I scrambled away to escape from my own personal ring of Hell. 

Is this what it felt like to have your soulmate die?

My father did everything he could to console me when I showed up at his door sobbing and exhausted. The woman my mother had been reborn into quickly left when she saw me and didn’t return until I left again. Later I found out he had sent her away so I wouldn’t have to see them together and worsen my suffering. He listened to me babble about Bucky and how I had just him slip through my fingers. Tender words and cups of tea were all he could offer me as I cried and mourned the death of my almost soulmate. He knew the pain that I felt, the deep ache that would never leave me but there was nothing he could do or say to ease it given that I had been cursed with only one soulmate. I’m not sure how long I stayed with him, a shell of my former self acting as a ghost in his home. I’m not even entirely sure how I made it back to the cabin I had left nearly 30 years earlier but one night I fell asleep by his fireplace and awoke in my cabin’s bedroom.

The morning sunlight breaks through the transparent curtains that I never remembered to close. The wood walls are filled with paintings and photographs of my loved ones through the years. Various bought and propagated plants clutter the shelves that line the top of the cabin walls. Even though I’m deep in the woods, having nature inside made me feel even more connected to the Earth I’ve walked for nearly 300 years. During my many years, the cabin has become overwhelmed with pieces I couldn’t possibly bear to part with. The Persian rug given to me by my grandmother keeps my feet warm as I slide off the loft bed and shuffle toward the kitchen. Piles of blankets made by past versions of me spill from the baskets that fail at keeping them under the bed. Space is limited in the cabin however being surrounded by the memories of my life provided me with comfort.

Steve’s letters are laying on the kitchen counter wrapped neatly with string next to the tea kettle. A small photo of him and Bucky peaks out from between the letters. He’d sent it in hopes it would entice me to write to the other man but it only brought more torment to my weakened heart. The stems of his daffodils make an appearance in the photo, confirming what Steve told me. No longer able to stand the angst regrowing inside, I nudge the photo back into the pile and push it away from me. Filling the tea kettle with water, I light the stove and place it on a burner. The familiar sounds of crackling fire and bubbling water make it to my ears however I can’t stop staring at the letters with numerous questions popping up in my mind.

Did Bucky know that Steve had written to me?

Did he know about that picture?

Had it been a spur-of-the-moment, taken just for me, or an old one Steve packed around?

Did Steve tell him about our marks? Who I really was to him?

Did he die knowing I was his soulmate or did he die thinking he was alone?

As if the gods knew I needed a break from my internal torture, the kettle whistles and washes away the cloud of questions that had floated in. With a cup of tea in my hands, I return to my bed and cover myself with an aging-knitted blanket, letting the warmth soothe the tension in my muscles. I had spent my life searching and praying for my soulmate but now that he was gone, I have no idea what to do. My life’s mission is gone, leaving me with the unanswered question of what to do next. Maintaining my garden and the forest around my cabin would provide only so much relief. I would have to find something else to occupy my time however, grieving will have to do until then.

A side effect of being half god is never really remembering what year it is. Already being a forgetful person, keeping track of the year is something I never get better at. Calendars are only helpful if one remembers to keep them updated and asking someone the year earns weird looks because why would someone forget what year it is. The only thing that helps with this is the weather and gardening. The changing weather patterns and sunlight schedules are my solutions because in order to garden, I have to know the seasons and thus I can kind of guess the year based on what season it is. Still, I get it wrong when my father visits, complaining that it’s been nearly 20 years since we last saw each other.

“Did you forget about me? It’s been two decades since I saw you last” he jokes, pulling me into a tight hug, “I missed you, dearest.”

“I know and I’m sorry. I just got so caught up and time slipped away,” I ramble on, trying to excuse my negligence.

He smiles and quietly shushes me before bending down to look at the daffodils I had been tending to when he arrived, “Seeing you happy again is worth the long wait. How are you doing?”

I shrug, “Better. It’s been difficult but things are getting better.”

“Good, good. Time really does heal our inner wounds.”

“Is it a time or do we just force ourselves to cope so we don’t seem lost in our grief? Because I have a hard time believing that the number of years passing by is the reason I don’t cry every day.”

“It may be both. I wouldn’t discount the work you’ve done to move on…”

My soft scoff stops him mid-sentence, “You make it sound like I lost my favorite book or something. I can’t ‘move on’ from this, I will always feel the hole he left. My heart will always ache in such a way that it eats me alive at night. There is a life and a love I will never have because my own fear stopped me from reaching out to him. I never got to see goodbye and now there’s a permanent absence, sudden, abrupt, and louder than anything could ever be. Yes the world kept spinning and life went on but it was never the same again. I will never be the same again.”

“Dearest you know I didn’t mean to diminish what you’re going through. I simply meant…” He tries to backtrack and save himself from my scorn.

“What you said and what you meant are two different things. Regardless I do not care to have this conversation,” I stop at the cabin’s door, turning to look over my shoulder at him, “You’re welcome to stay for dinner as long as you don’t bring him up again.”

Nodding, he follows me inside and continues to marvel at my green thumb. If I can’t nurture the future I want, I can at least care for my plants with the same passion.

My braid falls down my back, flyaways and loose strands having escaped amid the fight. My chest is rising and falling quickly as I try to regain my breath, the braid slipping off to the side. Pieces too short to reach the back have fallen in my face, barely hiding the blood and cuts that mark my face. I take in shaky breaths as I kneel on the ground, my hands flat against the ground, trying to find stability.

The two men are watching me, their chests heaving in an effort from fighting me. Neither move, too caught up in observing every movement I make. I drag my hands to my knees as I sit back on my haunches.

“I come in peace. I swear,” I rasp as I try to steady myself, muscles screaming in agony.

The brunette scoffs at my weak white flag as the other man takes a careful step forward.

“What are you doing here?” the closer man asks.

I wipe at the blood dripping from my nose, “I could ask you two the same thing. They sent here me on a pre-sweep before Walker comes to do a photo shoot.”

The brunette shoves his gun into the waistband of his pants and shakes his head at my answer. The other name gives him a confused look, “Walker?”

“The son of bitch can’t even do his own missions without a babysitter,” the brunette mumbles while searching the room for what the three of us had been fighting over, a vial that has rolled dangerously close to me.

“Wait, so they send in a solo agent to do a clearance sweep for him?” the other man asks.

I spot the vial but push it toward the men, wanting nothing to do with it.

“Yeah, well he is Shield’s newest shiny toy, and they can’t afford to replace him if something were to happen. So they send in replaceable people like me to do the hard part, and he comes in during the last minute to take all the of the credit,” I laugh humorlessly. I make no attempt to move as my body starts to ache and fatigue sets in. I’ve been doing this for far too long with too little sleep and even less food and water. A part of me had hoped that they would’ve just killed me during the fight, so I could finally get some peace and get away from Walker. The life I once had was too far gone to even think about running away from it. There is nothing left for me at this point and giving the vial over might as well be the last nail in my coffin.

The brunette picks up the vial, eyeing me for just handing it over. His hands are covered by gloves by the whirring of mechanics is unmistakable. I know all too well who these two men are, and I also know I won’t survive another fight with them or the wrath of my“employers”.

Gesturing to the vial, I caught his eye, “I don’t want whatever the hell that is. I don’t even know what it is but if you’re here for it, it definitely can’t get into Walker’s hands. Just take it and get the hell out. He’ll be here in maybe 20 minutes and won’t exactly like seeing the Falcon and Winter Solider.”

Sam reaches a hand out to me, “You’re coming with us.”

I brush his hand away and shaking stand up, body crying out in protest. Going with them means more running, more fighting, and more hiding. I can’t take it anymore. I’d rather die at this point.

“No. Just get out. I won’t say anything about you two being here.”

Bucky speaks up, “And why would you do that?”

“You’re not the bad guys here. Just go. You don’t have much time,” I grumble, picking up my gun and reholstering it. My black suit is ripped and blood is gluing it to my skin. I’m sure I look like a complete mess but it matches how I feel.

Before anyone can speak, the static of a radio roars into the room. Sam picks up the radio and tosses it to me.

“Agent Echo, status update now!” a demanding voice comes through.

Rolling my eyes, I press the call button, “Pre sweep complete. I ran into some trouble but the building is clear.”

“Trouble?” the sneer can be heard through the garble of the radio.

“The building wasn’t exactly clear like you had said so yes I ran into some trouble but I’m fine thank you for asking.”

“Be at the meeting spot in 5 minutes.”

“Copy that,” I say like mentally screaming and imagining that I’m throwing the radio at the wall.

“Like I said,” I turn to Sam and Bucky, “you don’t have much time so get the hell out.”

My legs begin to shake as I try to take a step and I collapse to the floor, the world fading to nothing.

Groaning, I try to move my body to regain feeling but something prevents me from doing so. My eyes blink rapidly to accommodate the light that blinds me and the two men come into view. I look down too fast, causing a head rush, but spot the chair that I’m bound to.

“Woah, woah, don’t move too fast,” Sam says as he approaches me and kneels down to meet my eye line.

“Walker wasn’t going to let you live after we took the vial so we took you with us,” he explains, no malicious is seen on his face.

I chuckle at his words and pull my head up to catch Bucky’s eyes. He’s still as stoic as before, with no emotion to be found on his face. Out of the corner of her eye, a blonde woman is sitting at a dimly lit table and a man wearing a massive fur-lined coat is sitting with her.

“The whole gang's back together I see.”

The blonde shifts in her chair, metal creaking against the cement floor, “What were you doing in that building?”

Sam stands and rejoins Bucky, pulling him aside into a hushed conversation. I glance over to the blonde who I recognize as Sharon Carter. The third man is, of course, the Baron, and I can’t help the laugh that threatens to bubble up.

“No reason”

“No reason?” Sharon repeats.

“Yep. No reason.”

“Who are you?”

“No one.”

The baron now looks impatient and uncrosses his legs to recross them.

“No one?”

I shrug, “Yep.”

Sharon huffs at my remark and looks to Bucky and Sam for some help.

“They called you Agent Echo,” Sam offers up.

“She can’t possibly be Agent Echo. She’s dead,” Sharon answers.

“Oh look at you with all the answers,” I try to make a fist to try and restart blood flow to my hand. I had landed in glass shards and there are pieces still embedded in my palm, too small to have shaken out.

“Try again. You’re not Agent Echo so who are you?” Sharon leans forward in her chair, causing the chair to groan again under the strain.

“A person,” slowly my fingers start to feel warm again and I move to try and wiggle my feet around.

A loud grunt is heard as the baron decides that a sudden show of aggression is needed to scare the truth out of me. He crosses the room in a few steps, heavy boots pounding the cement when he leans too close to me. All I do is raise my head and we are now inches from each other’s faces.

“I suggest you take a step back, Helmut,” I whisper as the baron tries to hold a solid facade.

Bucky is the one to pull the baron back, thoroughly over this show of dominance. He pushes him back towards his chair before retaking his place next to Sam.

“How do you know who he is?” questions Sam.

“That’s not important. Now what I want to know is how you got me out of there without a brigade of super soldiers on your tail.”

“We snuck out the way we came. It wasn’t hard.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Agent Echo was said to be a half god, half human,” Sharon now has all eyes on her, “Even when they found a body, it was highly likely that it wasn’t actually her. The body they found was missing their left arm so they couldn’t officially match the marks. The only way to tell if she really is Echo is to check her left arm.”

All eyes are on me now and the world starts to close in on me. The anxiety of having my mark revealed and the fear of unveiling my true identity is becoming too much to handle. My body can barely keep itself awake at this point and adding on this pressure is not making it any easier. Everyone is waiting for me to speak but nothing comes out.

“No,” my voice cracks as I try to get words out, “You will not put a hand on me.”

Sam goes to speak but is stopped by me choking out more words, “Whether or not I’m Agent Echo is not important. What is, is getting that vial out of here and getting into hiding. Walker will no doubt be ferocious that it’s missing so it’s only a matter of time before he comes busting down doors.”

“Check her arm,” Sharon tells Sam.

“Do not touch me,” I try to wiggle away from him but with the ropes, I have nowhere to go and no choice other than to let him pull my sleeve up.

My breathing is too quick, too close to having a full-blown panic attack when the daffodils are on display for everyone to see. I don’t miss the confused look Bucky is wearing as he narrows in on them, trying to put the pieces together in his head. He must have recognized me to some degree back during the fight but brushed it off until now, faced with the undeniable evidence that we do know each other.

Sharon approaches me, inspecting my mark, “How are you still alive?”

“Is that really the question you want to ask right now?”

“Yes now answer me.”

“It takes a lot more to kill someone like me. The body they found was an accident. I hadn’t planned on faking my death but it worked out to my benefit until Walker had the body reexamined and found out it wasn’t me. America needed their Agent Echo again so he tracked me down and brought me back. ”

Sharon rolls her eyes and tries to explain how implausible that sounds. Bucky silences her with a look as he walks toward me and starts to undo my binds. He doesn’t say a word while he does so and silently hopes that I won’t say anything either. With the final bind undone, it takes everything in me to not wrap him in my arms. Here he is; standing right in front of me alive is my soulmate. He stands and backs up to Sam before his resolve breaks and he unleashes the thousands of questions he has on me.

“Why’d you do that?” Sam whispers.

“I know her,” he whispers back.

Sharon had left us and the men are all sitting around the table talking amongst themselves. I can hear the conversation from the bathroom as I gingerly pull the suit from my body. As it drops to the floor, it makes a disgusting wet sound and I nearly gag. The shower running covers the noise and I continue to take off the Shield-issued clothes. One by one the filthy garments leave my body until I’m left with nothing but my skin and wounds that definitely need tending to. I grimace at the black, blues, and yellows that litter my body and the caked blood that will take so much scrubbing to get off.

Stepping into the shower, I hiss at the feeling of warm water on my skin. There isn’t much in the shower aside from a bottle of 3 in 1 and an unused washcloth Sam gave to me. So starts the long process of ridding myself of blood and dirt. In slow circles, I scrub at the filth and watch as the muddy water flows down the drain. My hair is a problem I’m not sure I want to tackle but know I have to. Stiff fingers unravel the braid and tangles make it nearly impossible to do it gently. I wash what I can from it, knowing it won’t be nearly as clean as it could be.

After I finish washing what sins I can away, I step out of the shower and wrap a rough towel around my body. A fresh stack of clothes sits on the counter, thanks to Sharon. I know not to be ungrateful but I also don’t want to owe Sharon anything. However, my alternative is the bloody suit on the floor so the borrowed clothes will have to do.

I slip on the jeans and tug the red long-sleeve henley over my head, pulling my wet mass of hair out of the collar. There is a familiar scent on the shirt that I can’t place. Sitting on the toilet, I put socks on and lace up the boots Sharon definitely didn’t want to give up. I finger comb what tangles I can out and rebraid my hair, leaving a wet mark on my back but at least I have clean clothes on. Before leaving the bathroom, I grab my bloody suit and toss it into the main room’s fire without a word.

I take the open seat in between Sam and Bucky. Sam starts to question me about how I’m doing and how my shower was. I nod along politely and say my thanks for giving me a place to stay. My attention isn’t fully on Sam though, my mind drifting away to Walker and the possibility that he might find me. The baron says some off-handed comment causing me to look over at him and the smell hits me. With Bucky sitting right next to me, his cologne wafts past me and it’s the same as the shirt. He must have given Sharon one of his old shirts for me to change into.

“Wow, I haven’t seen that henley in forever, Buck,” Sam chuckles as he eyes the red henley I’m wearing.

“I forgot I even had it,” Bucky replies and gets up, “I’ll take first shift watch.”

“I will too,” I interject while Sam smirks to himself.

“Go right ahead,” he says before walking off into another room, the Baron following suit.

Bucky still hasn’t spoken or even looked at me and I’m growing restless, fingers tapping rapidly on my knee.

“How do I know you?” I almost don’t hear his quiet voice as he’s watching out the window with his back to me. The uncertainty in his voice pulls at my heart and that little string that ties us together in destiny. When the Winter Soldier first emerged, I felt a faint tug but never enough to convince me that he was still alive. From time to time, I would become overwhelmed with suffering and anger so deep, it would incapacitate me for hours. It wasn’t until it was revealed who the Winter Soldier really was that it all clicked into place for me. Even though I had worked with SHIELD for many years under Nick Fury, I refused to be a part of anything to do with super soldiers and Hydra. I would do anything else Fury needed of me but that was my one condition; I will be completely in the dark about Hydra and super soldiers. Walker, however, became too greedy to find the serum and dragged me back into the ring against my will. God or not, he had beaten me down until I was a shell of the agent I had been before. Now face to face with Bucky, I’m beating myself up internally for not learning more about Hydra. Had I known maybe I would’ve been able to save him sooner. “Do you want the truth?”

“Yes.”

“Do you remember a girl named Laurel?”

He’s turned to face me, leaning against the window, and nods.

“What about the double date in 1943? You’d come home on leave and she wanted to go on a double date with Steve and one of her friends.”

He says my name with such disbelief that I’m here in front of me, “Your mark. That’s the reason you ran away that night?”

“I couldn’t tell you after I saw how well you two got along. It didn’t feel right to me to break up your relationship, especially with how enamored she was with you.”

“Did you even take into consideration what I might have wanted?”

“It wouldn’t have been fair…”

His booming voice halts me mid-sentence, “No what wasn’t fair was to run from me and not even try to tell me. When we shook hands, I knew there was something between us and then when I picked you up, I felt that spark again. I tried to go after you, to visit you. Hell, I even had Steve write to you to make sure you were okay. I tried but you didn’t.”

“You have no idea what I’ve done to find you,” standing up from the table, my voice wavers with tears, “I waited for 200 years to feel you be born and then I had to wait another 26 years to meet only to see you with another girl. I ran because I couldn’t stand to watch you and Laurel together after waiting so long to finally meet you. When I finally worked up the courage to find you again, I felt you die and then I felt only pain for the next 70 years. It consumed me until I had nothing left. Working as Agent Echo was about the only thing that kept me from losing it all and just ending it. Do you have any idea what it feels like to be in misery that long?”

“You felt me die?”

“Back in 1945 when you fell from the train. Obviously, I know now that you didn’t die but it most certainly felt that way.”

“And you felt everything when I was…” he trails off, unable to say the words so I fill in for him.

“Yes, even then I went through it all. I met Steve again before everything and he told me about it and what really happened.”

There’s a spilt second of silence as he mulls over my words. My eyes fall to his left arm where his matching mark should be but it’s been replaced with metal.

“He never told me about that.”

“Because I asked him not to. I wasn’t sure if you would be ready or even want to see me so I asked him to wait. I had it all planned out; he was going to take you on a trip to my cabin under the guise of a friend’s weekend so I could tell you everything. We agreed that it would be better if he brought you to me rather than me just springing it all on you without warning. Then the blip and Thanos happened and he was gone.”

Once again he doesn’t respond right away while his jaw clenches and tears brim his eyes. Hesitantly I make my way to him slowly so I don’t scare him. After the nearly 80 years it had been since I last saw him, so much had changed in him but the one thing that never left is the ghost of his boyish smile. Even now as he tries to hold back the storm of emotions inside, the wrinkles from years of smiling and laughter are visible.

My hand lands on his cheek, guiding him to look at me, “I’m sorry that I ran and that I didn’t try harder to find you but I’m here now and I’ll stay by your side. I will love you until the sky above darkens and even then I’ll stay by your side in the afterglow.”

Bucky drops his forehead to mine and his arms cradle my face while the tears fall freely now, “Please don’t leave again.”

“I won’t.”

[wildlife4life]

Fuck-Friday Coda

Tagged by the always lovely @theotherbuckley @perfectlysunny02 @cal-daisies-and-briars @aroeddiediaz @exhuastedpigeon @hippolotamus @loserdiaz @wikiangela @daffi-990 @tizniz and @diazsdimples Thank you all so much for all the tags throughout the week and today! I have eased back on working NFL Buck because I am absolutely swamped with school. I have started clinic rounds and somehow the classwork has doubled for the next set of courses. Which holy crap. So a lot of my days are for studying, homework, and quizzes. Add on being a mom/house wife and yea, not a ton of time to work on my favorite WIP. But I am making time on Thursday to watch the newest 9-1-1 episodes and write codas, because I started them in the final episodes of season 6 and really enjoyed it! So I made a goal to make a coda for most if not all of season 7 episodes! 2/2! I will try my absolute damnest to get some work into NFL Buck because it is my baby and I know how much it is beloved. Until then, enjoy the season 7 codas. Posted to ao3.

7x02 Coda

“We-I…” Buck tries to find the right words again, but he has no idea what they should be.  He doesn’t know if he should be defending himself along with Eddie and Chimney, proclaim that they were just being honest with internal affairs. Or if he should defend Hen and the betrayal she felt when they couldn’t back her up.

Rock and a hard place, with Buck being squeezed tightly in between.

Chimney left the locker-room soon after Hen, with the passing false hope comment, “She’ll come around.”  His phone was half-way to his ear before disappearing around the ladder truck, most likely spilling the entire ordeal to Maddie.

Buck slumps back down on the bench and leans his head against the lockers, closing his eyes with a defeated sigh. Still standing close by, Buck hears Eddie hum in agreement. Yea, tonight was very much a downer.

“We should have had her back.” Buck finally says.

He feels additional weight added to bench and pressing warmth along his arm and thigh when Eddie sits beside him. “We did. We just all put our foots in our mouths trying to show her.” He assured.  He gives Buck knee a gentle squeeze, “You more than me with that whole ‘right call’ comment and wanting to give Captain Collier’s a hard time.”

Buck groans in embarrassment, “I was trying and horribly failing to lighten the mood.”

“The mood was dead on arrival; you had no chance.” Eddie chuckles.

They both go silent, stewing in the hurt emotions left behind by Hen and Chimney, mixing with their own anxiety and worry. It kind of reminds Buck of the last time Hen was captain and that man died at the happiness convention. God that felt like so long ago, when really is less than a year.  Yet here they all are, questioning themselves on the job after losing a patient and without Bobby’s steady leadership to help guide them through it.

Buck could only hope this didn’t send him or anyone else on the team into a spiral of questioning their purpose in life. And he really hoped it didn’t lead to another brush with death, for anyone of them.

The hand on Buck’s knee never left and gave another squeeze, pulling him from his past wallows and has his eyes fluttering open. He looks over at Eddie and sees an understanding smile gracing his lips. “That man’s death isn’t on us. We we’re working on the worst of the crash, and we saved that girl and her mother.  Hen made the right call, the same one Bobby would have made and when those lab results concur with her story, she’ll be back, and we’ll find a way to make it up to her.”

Buck takes a moment to let Eddie’s words sink it and pull him from the beginnings of a self-deprecating spiral. He did his job, he gave his facts of the event truthfully, and Hen would come around. In all regards, Buck just needed to learn how not to put his foot in his mouth, because at the moment it really was a nasty taste.

Slowly most of the tension that had built up during Hen’s confrontation eases away and Eddie felt it through the press of his shoulder into Buck’s, “That has to be a record.” He comments before getting to his feet and reaching a hand out.

Buck doesn’t even hesitate and tries his damnest not to flush too red as Eddie hauls him to his feet with little to no effort. The man has a girlfriend and Buck was done chasing. “Uh yea. Turns out when you stop trying to search for the life’s great moments and instead live in them, internal spiraling is easier to pull out of.” He explains. Eddie also is a big contributor, but Buck isn’t going to admit that to said man.

“Well… At least those self-help books will make good kindling for the next campfire.” Eddie cackles and Buck swats at his shoulder which only makes him laugh harder.

Eventually Buck joins in and the pit of dread dwindles further. He embraces this moment and knows eventually everything is going to be okay.

Short but somewhat sweet I hope! Tagging (no pressure): @jesuisici33 @fortheloveofbuddie @rogerzsteven @lemonzestywrites @evanbegins @buck-coded @devirnis @glorious-spoon @thekristen999 @spotsandsocks @hippolotamus @sunshinediaz @watchyourbuck @lover-of-mine @hoodie-buck @elvensorceress @gayedmundodiaz @giddyupbuck @jeeyuns @bekkachaos @buddierights @try-set-me-on-fire @rainbow-nerdss @thewolvesof1998 @eddiebabygirldiaz @spaceprincessem @eddiiediaz @honestlydarkprincess @doublecheekeddiaz @prosperdemeter2 @transboybuckley @nmcggg @monsterrae1 @dangerpronebuddie @missmagooglie @thebloomingheather

[aanoia]

heyy! Could you do a fic where reader try’s to kms and JJ walks in on her unconscious and he finds letters that reader wrote for him and the pogues so he’s in panic because he new about this but couldn’t do anything so he tries to wake her up and reader wakes up after half an hour in his arms and he’s crying

thanks!

I finally am getting it out haha! I'm sorry it took so long! Thank you for being patient, I made some adjustments to the request, I hope you're okay with them!

I can't lose my girl

JJ Maybank x reader

Summary; JJ finds his girlfriend in a horrifying state after wanting to spend the night with her

Warnings; suicide, OD, foaming at the mouth.

Words; 851

If you are struggling please reach out. To me, or someone you trust. I will sit and listen to your problems all night. Coming from someone who has attempted suicide and who self harmed for years, in the end it doesn't help much. I understand the feeling of thinking it will never get better, and even finding comfort in the pain, but please try to heal. I am here for everyone.

Excitement radiated through JJ’s body. He carefully held onto two full paper grocery bags and multiple DVDs as he walked along the path to his girlfriend's front door. He had been waiting for this day for what seemed like ages. It was a surprise he had planned and finally, her parents were out of town on a business trip and they could have the whole house just to themselves. They could do whatever they wanted. Of course movies and snacks were not the only thing on JJ’s agenda for the night, but he’d wait a little to get into the mood.

He balanced one of the bags on his knee and knocked on the door. As he waited he took a quick look around at the familiar scenery. It was dark out, as her parents hadn’t left until late. If her neighbors didn’t know who he was they would have called the cops on him while he was hiding behind a bush stalking the L/n family. A few moments passed and there was no answer so he knocked for the second time. Again, there was no answer and he turned the knob and gently pushed the door open. It was unlocked.

“Y/n.” JJ called out as he sat down the bags and movies on the table. “Your favorite boy is here!” He began running up the stairs. “I figured since your parents are out of town we could have a night just for us two. How does that sound, huh?” He got to his girlfriend's door and gently pushed it open. “Y/n?” He asked quieter, afraid she was asleep. Instead, he found an empty room. No Y/n.

Five pieces of folded paper on the desk caught his attention and he walked over. They were letters, each had a different name on it. Each pogue's name was written in fancy handwriting, and one said mom and dad. JJ picked up the letter with two sparkly J’s. It was to him. He picked it up and carefully opened the letter. As he read, tears filled his eyes. His heart pounded in his chest as he clenched his fist and furrowed his brows. His soul left his body once he read the last sentence and he dropped the letter.

“Y/n?!” He yelled frantically, bolting out of the girls room and pushing open random doors in search of his girlfriend. “Y/n, where the fuck are you? This isn’t funny!” He shoved the bathroom door open and his heart dropped. There lay his beautiful girlfriend, limp and foaming at the mouth.

JJ rushed over to her and placed his fingers on her neck. She was clammy and her skin was a (if you have lighter skin, blueish purple, if you have darker skin grayish or ashen). A sigh of relief left JJ’s lips as he felt a pulse, however it was weak and erratic. He fumbled to get to his phone as tears spilled from his eyes.

“Shit, stay with me Y/n, stay with me baby.”

“911, what’s your emergency?” A voice asked.

“Uh, I need help, please, my girlfriend, she-she overdosed, I think. Please, help.” JJ begged with a shaky voice.

“Okay, sir, I understand this is frightening but please stay as calm as you can. What’s the address?”

“**********.”

“Okay, an ambulance is on it’s way. What is your name sir? And hers?”

“JJ, and she’s-she’s Y/n.”

“Okay, JJ, does she have a pulse?”

“Y-yes, she does, but barely, and-and it’s not, uh, it’s not regular.”

“Okay sir, help is on the way. Please stay with her until help arrives. Would you like to stay on the line?”

“Uh, it’s okay. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

JJ dropped his phone and cradled Y/n against his chest, silently praying to a God he didn’t believe in to save her. To just bring back Y/n. His Y/n. He placed tender kisses to the top of her head as if it would coax her out of a seemingly endless slumber. His fingers gently rubbed comforting circles to her hand as he waited for her to open her eyes with the beautiful smile he fell in love with and squeeze back.

Y/n’s eyes fluttered open and she squinted at the bright lights of the hospital. She looked to her side and guilt filled her body at the sight of JJ holding her hand with his head down.

“JJ?” Her hoarse voice asked and his head shot up. Y/n’s heart broke at the sight of his red eyes and tear stained cheeks. “I’m so sorry.” She whispered as a tear fell from her eyes.

JJ sat up straight and pulled her into a hug, “It’s okay. You’re okay. Shh.” He rocked the two back and forth as she quietly cried. He pulled away and wiped the girls tears, “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. But next time you feel like this please, please talk to someone. I can’t lose you. I can’t lose my girl, okay?”

Y/n sniffled and nodded, “Okay.”

JJ smiled at her and hugged her again, “Okay.”

[henneseyhoe]

The Return Of Killjoy.

Killmonger x BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: mentions of death, gory descriptions, mentions of religion, possession, choking, rough s*x, cu*khold, !SLIGHT CNC!.

Ps. I’ll edit this fully later, so if y’all see random pov switches then ignore it really quick. I just wanted it out before Halloween was over Lmfao.

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“You sure you wanna watch this, Trey? I just feel iffy” She expressed to her boyfriend, fiddling with the frills on her socks. Her stomach felt queasy, and her nerves were higher than usual all that day. It could be because she knew that there were plans made to do something she had no instest in, plans to watch an old slasher film, but even before she knew it was this movie in particular, she had already felt a bad feeling come over her body.

“You need to calm down, baby. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, and we both know this shit is fake” Trey brushes her off in a nonchalant way, putting the vhs tape into the tv.

“Trey, please. We can watch a classic! Friday 13th?” He ignores her again, playing with the buttons on the television. “This movie is like 80 years old, who knows what type of old ass voodoo is on it?! we needed a fuckin’ box tv to watch this shit, and everybody saying it’s cursed!” She continues to press him, hoping he’d realize how stupid the whole situation was. She was never the type to be scared of movies, but she heard around town about what people saw in the tapes, and she wasn’t trying to be added to the list of people who lost their minds after watching.

Some stories she heard included people gouging their own eyes out, projectile vomiting everywhere only five minutes into the film, some even lose consciousness. “Are you even listening? Trey!” She pushed him, the boy still seeking no interest in what she was saying. She was so convinced that she could change his mind and that she had time to all before, but obviously he was adamant on watching the movie to understand the hype and fear surrounding.

“…someone literally stopped talking for an entire week after watching it. If that ain’t enough proof for you, I dunno what is!” Crossing her arms, she huffs like an upset toddler, over him ignoring her for a ‘stupid little movie’.

“That was just a drawn out joke! Wasn’t shit wrong with that woman” He says, using the tv remote to navigate through the options to start the movie. There was no turning back now, the tape beginning to roll.

✮✮✮✮

Trey yawns for the fifth time that night. She couldn’t tell if he was tired of just wanted to pretend like the scenes wasn’t scary. The movie started out with a blood curdling scream that made both the young adults cover their ears, Trey attempting to turn it down with the remote, which didn’t work, but even when he put it on mute, the scream continued. After that was the most gruesome death scene either of them had ever seen in a movie that old. It was almost too real. The main character, or who they thought was the main character, was killed only five minutes into the film. The masked man had captured her in her own home and hung her upside down with chains wrapped around her ankles. She was completely undressed, naked glory there to gawk at. Y/N caught Trey doing exactly that for a moment before the woman was split in half completely from the top down with a seemingly dull machete.

Y/N gags strongly while clenching her thick thighs closed as she watched the woman rip in half, screaming in agony until she stopped before the man could even pull the blade all the way through her body. He hacked away multiple times before he had even reached the end of her, blood splattering all over the hardwood floor.

“Ewww!” Y/N let out a girlish squeal while kicking her feet up and covering her face. Trey shook his head. “This shit is not scary, you doin too much”

“Shut up! This shit is makin’ me sick, turn it off”

“Why? You scared?”

“Yes! Stop playin’ and turn it off”

Trey rolls his eyes and laughs, switching his position so he was kneeling in front of his fearsome girlfriend. “It’s not real” she shake her head, her face still scrunched with disgust while Trey laughs at herfit. “Lemme comfort my little cry baby” he teased and kisses her lips. She melted from his touch, feeling safer than before. Trey’s hands roam her body, going for her shirt to pull it right off her body. Y/N’s safe feeling didn’t last too long, a feeling in her stomach creeping up onto her, telling her to open her eyes, which she reluctantly complied to.

Watching the screen behind Trey, multiple pictures of gore flashed as the film continued, the next picture even more disturbing than the next until the screen flashed a picture that had her jumping out of her skin, goosebumps covering her body.

She pushes her boyfriend away with a scream. “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!” She panicked, tears welling in her eyes. “Damn, Y/N! You almost bit my fuckin’ tongue off!” Trey shouts, tasting blood in his mouth from the girl biting down on his lip. “What are you on about now?!” Trey glanced back at the screen, but it had changed to a normal part in the movie.

Y/N couldn’t even begin to explain the feeling in her chest. The picture she saw that flashed lastly was a picture of her. In that same spot. With Trey laying next to her, his face looking as if it was bludgeoned, features beyond recognition.

“STOP FUCKING WITH ME, TREY! IM SERIOUS! IT AINT FUNNY!” She freaked, her chest heaving as Trey looked at her in confusion.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N. If you that scared then I’ll just turn it off, damn” he reaches for the remote and clicks the tv off, yet the screen went no where. Still playing the movie, Trey tried clicking the buttons on the TV to turn it off, but the film stayed put. He sighs. “Look, it’s an old tv, baby. We can smash this shit right after if it makes you happy” he said, turning back to her. Cupping her face in his hands, he kisses her again, tasting salty tears on her lips. As she gave into his temptation, the kiss progressed to him laying her down and undressing them both fully.

Trey took it upon himself to pleasure her first, something he rarely did, but Y/N brushed it off as him trying to make her feel better. Spreading her legs out for him, Trey dove in, beginning to lap up her swelling clit as she used her hands to play in his hair.

They were cornrowed back, neatly placed in straight lines and she found herself tugging at the ends of them while he slurped her up. He uses her thigh as a headrest for him so he could eat without getting tired, but his patters were already sending the girl into overdrive.

“Yes, Trey” She calls out to him, her other hand gracing her wet lips. She sticks her tongue out and licks a long stripe along her pointer finger and thumb, using her own spit as lube to twist her nipples softly. Trey had suctioned his entire mouth around her clit, beginning to suck while his fingers dipped into her honeypot, giving her a reason for her eyes to be rolling backwards into her head like they were doing.

What was into him? She had never experienced this type of behavior. She couldn’t even remember the last time she came from head alone, but this time felt so different to her.

She had wondered when he had gotten so skilled at this..and when he got a tongue.. or when he got dreads.

Popping her head upwards, Y/N’s heart completely drops. The man that was between her legs was no longer her boyfriend, but the same psycho killer that shook her up just a few minutes ago. Her adrenaline rushes, her brown eyes becoming wide with her jaw being stuck hanging low like she had just been hit with a brick. “—oh fuck” She moans, the demon himself keeping himself latched on her clit, shaking his head from side to side. He rubs his plump lips against her clit while humming, vibrations spreading throughout the girls body before she came, a tongue being right there to catch all that she was giving before it was his turn to get his.

✮✮✮✮

“Like this, baby?” The man stared deep into her soul while stroking her, his callused hand wrapped tightly around her throat. Y/N shook with fear, but she couldn’t stop the moans falling from her lips. Turning towards the tv, she watched as Trey begged and pleaded on mute, slamming his hands against the windowed screen he was trapped in. Before a singular teardrop slipped from her eye, killjoy had already turned her head back towards him, giving her no permission to look at anything but him.

“Take it. Take it like a good fuckin’ girl” He grunts, gripping her thigh and pushing it back so far that she was basically folded in. It took strength to endure the beating he was putting on her, and the little bit she had left was gradually growing weaker. He was to blame for every reaction she was currently having, from the jagged breathing all the way down to the helpless whimpers. She thought he would have never stopped, until he did, his hips colliding with hers one last time before he stops, laying a smack on her thighs.

“Now, sit that ass on it” He demands. It was like she had no control over her own body, the real version of herself watching behind her eyes in utter shock. Flipping them both over, Killjoy does the honors of pushing himself back inside of her, Y/N using the strength of her calves to bounce on the tip of his dick. It was still so much for her, he was barely inside and she already felt so full. “I can’t-“ she chokes out as her legs shake, her body cowering on top of him. Killjoy grunts in annoyance, his patience running low for the girl. He was fed up. How was she gonna be a good host if she was a coward?

Giving her that jumpstart she needed, he lays three hard smacks on her ass, sending Y/N jumping forward with a yelp, landing right back on his dick. She slid down on his thick pole completely, her thighs closing together. “Unt-Unt. Open them legs, lemme see that pretty pussy” He says, completely disregarding her stiff movements and thrusting his hips upwards. She wasn’t even thinking straight at this point, she couldn’t have answered a question if you asked.

“I’m gonna cum!” She shouts, fisting his locs in her hand, a guttural groan escaping his mouth at the hair tugs. Only the lucky knew how he liked it rough, and not one of those lucky people were alive anymore to tell the story of how killjoy himself broke them in on Halloween night. Now, it was her turn.

“Cum on this dick, pretty girl. It’s yours” He taunts with a devilish smirk, but that only made Y/N teeter over the line of ecstasy and unconsciousness just a little more.

“I’m- im-“

“Uh-huh. Show yo’ man how a real nigga do it”

“FU-“

“Show him how a real nigga make you cum!”

“FUCK”

She stops bouncing, but killjoy kept his hips jack hammering up into her, his arms arms going around her waist to hold her in her spot as he fucked her pussy with no remorse. Y/N was praying to the heavens that it would stop and this would just be some crazy wet dream, but it kept going.

“No need to pray now. He can’t help you” Killjoy speaks into the girls ears, his voice echoing in her head like they were in an empty room.

She could hear her water splashing against him, and he had no means to stop just yet.

✮✮✮✮

[amyispxnk]

My Kind of Woman

Chapter 2: What he needs.

Series Masterlist || Previous Chapter

Series summary - Your song captivates Joel the second he hears you that night in Jackson, but he struggles to work up the courage to confess his feelings. With some (very heavy) encouragement from Ellie and Tommy, you two get closer and closer until he finally thinks he’s ready.

Chapter summary - The two of you make plans, Joel thinks about his past and how far he’s come in these 20 years.

A/N: Ngl Joel is falling really hard for reader, I didn’t plan on making him this head over heels for her but oh well.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: alcohol, light language, fluff, ANGST (sarah bby 🙁), mention of grief and losing a child, very brief mention of childbirth (not graphic)

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

The next time you saw Joel was another night you were singing at the bar, having just finished up, face flushed as you looked around for somewhere to sit and have a drink you desperately needed. You’d been taking dozens of requests for close to an hour after only expecting to be singing 2 or 3 songs, not that you really minded. You loved being able to make people smile, even with something as small as a song. Anything that could make someone feel a little happier was considered a great victory these days.

You spotted Joel, he was alone this time, and went over to him after grabbing your drink, sliding into the booth across from him.

He still wasn’t completely used to just talking with you, always finding himself getting nervous as you approached, getting even more nervous when you started hugging him as a greeting, feeling that panic again when you’d start talking about your day but all he could do was get lost in your beauty as the words went in one ear and out the other (one time, you were looking at him for a good ten seconds before he realised that you were waiting for a response from him and he actually went red with embarrassment, coughing and turning away as he muttered a reply).

You were so positive all the time though, never calling him out on his clear social awkwardness and never getting frustrated with him. It wasn’t a suffocating kind of optimism, though, it was just a nice change of pace having someone who could just talk and smile and laugh no matter what was going on. He wished it was that easy for him.

Immediately, you started talking about your day with him, asking what he did, giggling a little when he told you that he ‘spent half the damn mornin’ cleanin’ horse shit with Tommy because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut and decided to drag me into it when his wife punished him’, and eventually asking him about something he didn’t realise you knew about.

“So.. Ellie tells me you play guitar.” You mused as you traced over the rim of your glass, looking up at him with a small smile.

“I do.” He confirms, brows furrowing a little as he wonders where you’re going with this.

“She also says you’re very good at it,” you say, which makes him a little more hopeful, “so I was wondering if maybe you’d consider playing with me sometime?”

You motion to the stage with your hand and his eyes go wide. He didn’t do that kind of thing. Performing. Prancing around, smiling and grinning so wide it made his jaw ache, all for a few claps and cheers from an almost totally drunken crowd. It wasn’t his thing. Even if he knew how happy it would make you if he said yes, he just preferred watching you do it.

“I um- Not up there.” He coughs, and you don’t look all that surprised, or upset. Maybe you knew it was a bit of a stretch to ask that of him.

“Okay, then.. How about you play for me, then? Just us, not in front of anyone else. I’m sure you’re a great musician.” You suggest with a smile, looking up at him a little more hopefully.

And, honestly, how could he deny you? Although his mind was going at a million miles an hour right now because how in god’s name would he be able to control himself alone with you?! ..he knew this was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

“Yeah. That sounds good, sweetheart. When would you be free for it, then?” He says, thankful he could actually find his voice in that moment. You look at him for another second as your cheeks slowly go red again and you smile, the term always having that effect on you no matter how many times he uses it with you, before you tell him that you’d be free on Friday evening.

After finalising the plans and finishing your drinks, he finds a new surge of bravery course through him and asks if you’d like him to walk you home.

“Oh, yes! That sounds great.” You smile, and the two of you walk out of the Tipsy Bison.

You sigh when the doors close behind you, loving the feel of the cool air on your face and that comforting silence of the night all around you, a stark contrast to the inside of the bar, as the two of you start heading to your place.

He takes it upon himself to start some conversation after the first few minutes of.. not awkward, but not the most pleasant, silence goes by between the two of you.

“I actually wanted to be in a band, growing up.” He says, mumbling a little at the end as he finds himself getting nervous again.

“Oh yeah?” You grin, and he finds it puts him at ease.

“Yeah,” he nods. “Actually, I- I was plannin’ on trying to take it further, go to some auditions and shit when I left highschool.” He laughs, thinking about how funny it would’ve been if that had actually worked out and he spent his early years touring around America with some folk band.

Then he remembers why it didn’t work out. How, when he was only 18, he got a girl pregnant, and then that dream, along with basically all of his other ones, withered away.

Despite the unfortunate circumstances, he never backed down. Never got angry, or tried to find a way out of the situation he had put himself in. He took care of the girl as best he could - despite her wanting almost nothing to do with him and cursing him for knocking her up - and waited outside of the delivery room for hours as his babygirl was born, since the mother didn’t even want him in there with her.

After the first three hours went by, she eventually let him in just so she could squeeze his hand so hard he swore his skin was ripping.

She never really hated Joel, she just hated what he did to her, and hated what became of it. How could she hate him though, when he had stayed and treated her as best he could during the entire pregnancy? He took accountability, helped her afford bills, accompanied her to appointments.. It certainly went better than things normally did in these kinds of situations.

After Sarah was born, things got even more complicated, and he ended up a single father at 19 years old.

It was hard raising Sarah, but he loved her with his entire heart, and when he lost her he felt like he lost himself completely.

Then he met Ellie, and she saved him. She was his second chance. It almost felt like Sarah was there too, like she had sent Ellie to Joel so he could change for the better. In truth, he really did. Despite the grey area with things like Salt Lake, he left the cold, ruthless, murdering part of himself behind when he saved her from that hospital, when he came back to Jackson, and eventually when he met you. You didn’t know it yet, but you were the only other thing he had to look forward to after a hard day, a smile from you when you caught his eye up on stage his favourite way to ignore his problems.

“Joel?” Your voice brings him out of his thoughts, a gentle hand on his shoulder bringing him back to earth. “Are you okay? You zoned out a little there.” You murmur, looking at him with concern in your eyes. He hadn’t realised his eyes had gotten misty as he thought of his daughter, of everything that had happened. Maybe one day he’d tell you too, if you ever got that close.

He clears his throat, nodding and sniffing a little. “All good, sorry sweetheart.”

“You sure?” You press, and he nods.

You offer him a small smile before stopping, and he looks up to realise that you’re at your house.

He’s never really looked at your house before, he realises as he stands at the edge of the property with you. It suits you, he thinks. Cute little flower pots on the windowsill, a smiley-face painted onto the mailbox by your name, purple curtains that are drawn on the inside.

Her favourite colour was purple.

“Well, this is me. Thanks for the walk, Joel, I’m really excited to see you on Friday.” You say, preventing his mind from wandering any further, hugging him tightly before he says goodbye to you and you walk up to your front door, giving him another small wave before going inside. He watches the door close before letting out a deep exhale and turning to go back to his own place.

He spends the evening on his back porch, strumming at the guitar quietly as he thinks of his daughter. Music always felt like a kind of therapy for him, whenever his thoughts got too loud and worrying like this, he’d just let the instrument take over his mind. It was like second nature as he played the chords, stringing them together to form songs from another time, and it helped to take his mind off of things. It was definitely a better distraction than what he used to do, pure anger being his most prominent emotion from the grief, violence being the only solution back then in his mind.

He now believes that he is almost at that stage of complete acceptance, finally being able to just sit down with his thoughts, breathe, and try to process things, now that he was in Jackson. It was safe here, he had Ellie - even though he was always wondering what would happen if she found out about Salt Lake in the back of his mind - he found Tommy, and there was a community he had a home in.

It felt strange to say that he had a home in the apocalypse. The places he stayed at just felt like houses to him. Buildings where you had a place to sleep and keep your shit - that’s what they had been to him after the outbreak happened. None of them ever felt like home. How could he have a home, when the one thing he’d look forward to coming back home to at the end of a long day, was buried in the cold ground?

As he mulls over his thoughts, letting the notes from his guitar flow freely through the air, he realises that this is now his home. With Ellie, with his guitars and his woodworking room, his bed and the framed photos that hang on his walls, his coffee machine, his brother down the street, with you and the sound of your voice being the thing he plays in his mind before going to sleep.

Now, he thinks he wants more than just your voice rattling throughout his skull. He wants you. Completely. Always. Everywhere, every day. He wants to wake up beside you in the early morning, drink coffee in the kitchen with you as you talk about your plans for the day ahead, come back home to the sight of you on the couch at midday, play guitar for you in the afternoon, take you to his bed at dusk, fall asleep with you in his arms at night, and do the same thing on repeat until his final day on this planet. He needs that in his life.

He didn’t think he’d be able to completely rest until he had you.

Thank you SM for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated 💞

Next Chapter

[crumbledcastle28]

Joel Miller: Stripped to the Bone

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (afab; she/her)

Excerpt: He tucked a hand into your hair and pulled you close, massaging your scalp. You exhaled in relief and breathed him in, not for the last time. He then lifted your head to look up at him and pulled your face closer, and closer, and closer.

“I dreamed of you,” he whispered, “all the time.” 

Warnings: ANGSTTTT, TLOU 1 spoiler (ish), heavy description of blood loss, injury, impalement, and all that fun stuff. Reader has a breakdown and also kills people, with some kissing at the end.

A/N: I could tell you how many times I have used this exact case scenario to fall asleep over the last two years...but I won’t. Happy Last of Us HBO show days. I hope you enjoy some Joel.

If you’d like to leave a like, reblog, ask, or comment, it would be really appreciated <3

Pedro Masterlist

For as long as you had known the greying, brick wall that was Joel Miller, he had always been almost...impenetrable to pain. You always wondered if it was because he seemed to constantly be gritting his teeth and bearing some steady kind pain, like a heartbeat or twitching muscle. He always seemed ready for it, thus allowing him not to be one for any sort of reactions when he did take damage. 

You had gotten used to it, too used to it, because the howl he released when he hit the floor of that disgusting University told you one thing--he had finally, finally, found something worse than his constant beat. 

You only stopped shooting the culprit when your ammunition finally ran out. Seven rounds. You didn’t blink once.

“Y/N,” Ellie yelled, her small voice echoing around the vacant building. She had gotten to him first. You immediately broke into a sprint, practically leaping off the same ledge Joel had fallen off of, and you finally reached him. 

It was bad. Really, really bad.

The rebars were poking from his stomach like a tree from the ground, his blood spread on the floor from his back all the way to your boots, and his body was already beginning to go static. 

“Holy fuck,” you said, and knelt down beside him. “Joel, can you hear me?”

He coughed and choked out a faint “yes”, and you placed your hand on his arm to calm him, already forming droplets in your eyes as the panic and shock set in.

You couldn’t lose him. Not like this. Not now. Not after everything. 

“What do you want me to do?” Ellie asked, but both you and Joel heard the steps of the hunters behind her. 

“Move,” you said simultaneously. 

“What?”

“Move,” you both said fiercely, and Joel pushed her body out of the way right as the hunters forced their way in. The both of you took them down with your bullets within a number of seconds. Their bodies littered the floor. 

Not an atom in you cared. The infamous, heartless woman you had become was in full force.

You took a deep breath, calming your brain, and turned back to him, focused on the fact that yes, his chest was still moving in a steady rhythm. Up, down, up, down. It was up to you to keep it moving. The universe wasn’t going to take him away from you. You’d grip him until he ripped himself in half.

“Alright Joel,” you whispered, sniffling. That new flick of rage lit you back on fire. “We’ve gotta get you up.” 

He nodded, the brown of his eyes already beginning to fade, and wrapped his hand around Ellie’s wrist. You went around and supported his back, grateful for any press of him you could get. Just like you always had been. 

“Ellie,” Joel croaked, “I’m gonna need you to pull.”

“Pull, alright,” Ellie gripped his hand in hers, “I can do that. Okay, one.--”

Joel gripped her hand tighter. 

“--two--”

You rubbed his back just so. 

“--three.” 

You pressed the faintest kiss to the back of Joel’s neck--right on the mole you had always been desperate to press to your mouth when he wasn’t looking--and lifted him from the floor. 

His scream echoed through the University once again as he yelled “pull,” still somehow managing to keep control of his body. The rebar made a quick shing as it exited his body, and with one final tug from Ellie, he was free, effectively spraying blood all over the floor and your face. 

You couldn’t feel your face anyway. 

“Alright,” he said, gathering his breath, and started making his way forward. He walked like an infected-- crouched, slow, holding his middle. You immediately slid beside him, asking him permission with your eyes, and he scoffed. 

That was Joel talk for “go on.”

You looped his left arm over your shoulder, immediately drenching your back in his sticky blood. When the warmth of it hit you, as well as its metallic smell, your vision blurred with tears of pure frustration and agony, and that’s when your memory began to blur. 

You could barely remember making your way through the University, effectively mowing down hunters as you went, or making it back to Callus, or helping Joel mount him only for him to tip, landing hard on his bad side, and you remembered nothing from the horse ride back. Your recognition was only the burning in your throat, the panic in Ellie’s voice, and the stickiness of his blood still dripping down your face.

                                        ~*~

Ellie had been gone a long time, enough time for you to sit in the cabin and just...think. Think about the what ifs, the almosts, and how fucking rock bottom you were. 

The only thing keeping you going was Joel’s pulse under the skin of your fingers. 

The season had changed dramatically, changing from a decent fall to a gnarly winter, and the three of you had found a semi-livable arrangement. One of you would stay home and watch Joel for the day, while the other went out and hunted, simple as that. You tended to prefer the hunt. Your brain never really did well with “downtime.” Especially with the man you loved slowly bleeding to death beside you. 

Today was Ellie’s day to hunt, meaning the rope of tension you felt curled in your stomach whenever you and Joel were in a room together tightened for at least five hours, and you were exhausted. Exhausted with worrying about Ellie, worrying about Joel, and worrying that, with everything that the two of you had been through even before Ellie was in the picture, you were still too chickenshit to tell Joel the truth. 

You wrapped your blankets around you tighter than they were before, blowing into your frigid hands as you did, and just looked at him. That was the sole advantage of this arrangement, no more sly glances at the back of his head or quick double-takes when the sun hit his eyes just right. You got a chance to study him and commit every part of him to memory--every mole, every wrinkle, every scar. They were yours now. 

With the way he was positioned—laying on the floor, eyes closed in a constant daze of pain and sleep—he was so real, so vulnerable. For a man who had only shown glimpses of vulnerability and weakness to you, he might as well have been stripped to the bone.

The best was when he dreamed, mumbling gibberish and cursive under his breath, because at least his brain was still functioning. At least he could still feel fear or exhaustion or cold, rather than nothing at all. 

And, God forbid he mumble your name, because you would be effectively distracted for the entire rest of the day. 

You sighed, rubbing your fingers against your temples, and watched his chest. He was still alive, still living to see another day. 

But what about tomorrow?

For once, in that moment, you let yourself fall down that rabbit hole while staring at him underneath all those blankets. The thoughts of what you would do without him coated your mind like a black paint, drenching all the good times you had with black. The day you met him, stranded in a river that he, by either fate or chance, was walking by that day. He pulled you out and immediately stuck a knife to your throat, grilling you through your chattering teeth. He still could not give a reason why he brought you in.

When the two of you first started taking jobs, usually covered in somebody’s blood when it was all said and done, and you would take turns using the shower. You would only manage to steal quick glances at his naked back when he exited, and you cemented them in your brain, storing them only for you to take to your grave and dream about in the afterlife.

When once, in the hottest month of a Boston summer, a hunter got you good, nicking the side of your neck just right to make it bleed, and bleed, and bleed. You had to press cloth against it for hours to stop the bleeding, and the mix of the loss of blood with the feeling of your own pulse against your hand successfully blurring your vision and passing you out. You woke to the press of cloth on your neck once again, but this time your back was against something…solid, as well as warm puffs of air against your ear.

“She wakes,” Joel said teasingly, country accent thick as ever.

You groaned at your pounding head. “What happened?”

“You scared the living shit out of me, that’s what happened,” Joel said, bringing you in closer—making his mouth that much closer to your earlobe—and wiping at the wound on your neck. “Never pull that shit again.”

He held you like that for the rest of the evening. Neither of you spoke a word. And now, your places have switched.

You didn’t notice when tears started streaming down your cheeks, but they hit the floor heavily and small sounds of your sobs echoed around the cabin.

You scooted closer to Joel laying on the ground and pressed your hand delicately against his wound—just like he did you—and held your face close to his.

“You’ve gotta get up from this one Joel. Ellie needs you, I—”

You swallowed.

“I need you. And I—I’m so fucking stupid. It’s my fault you’re here, I could have gotten the guy if I’d just moved faster, and it’s my fault that I’m losing my fucking mind with you like this.”

His wound was hot, healing, his heart was still beating, but he was only getting worse. You weren’t that delusional, and the weeks of it eating you up inside had led to this. 

Would you ever see the expanse of his shoulders again? Feel him follow you as you led the way? Look at you in awe as you did what you did best: destroy? Would you ever get to hear him sing, watch him dance, touch his skin, or fall deep into a life of domesticity with him that you had always wanted? You didn’t know if he would ever be able to do that, hell you weren’t sure if you could either, but he couldn’t try if he was rotting six feet in the ground. 

You had known him for years, and yet you didn’t at all, and maybe now, you never would. 

“God Joel,” you whispered as you cried, bowing your head near his chin, “Please don’t leave me here.”

You let yourself cry in what had to have been the first time in months, and you allowed your tears to drip on his blankets. You wanted to rub your face into them, into the smell of him that always seemed to poke through even after days of work and grime and killing-- cinnamon and woods, perfectly symbolic. 

After a few moments you let yourself catch your breath and looked back up at his face, still open mouthed and clenched in pain, and rubbed at your nose. With one last press of your forehead to his chest you began to back away, swallowing hard, but just before your hand on his wrappings pulled away, a hand both soft and callused held it in place. 

“That’s all? I was enjoying that.”

You gasped and looked to him, still in pain and yet, smiling, and began to laugh so joyously that you practically wept. 

“Oh Joel,” you laughed out, feeling blood rush into your cheeks, “you heard all that?” 

He nodded with a smirk. “Was almost as good as a kiss on the back of my neck.”

You rolled your eyes and tucked your face into his chest, completely mortified, yet the happiest you had been in weeks. More of your tears and snot rubbed into his blankets, but neither of you seemed to care. You felt alive, like you were the one being drained of life in the last weeks, and you had finally clogged the leakage. 

He tucked a hand into your hair and pulled you close, massaging your scalp. You exhaled in relief and breathed him in, not for the last time. He then lifted your head to look up at him and pulled your face closer, and closer, and closer.

“I dreamed of you,” he whispered, “all the time.” 

You smiled, love, gratitude, and disbelief flooding your eyes. “You mumble in your sleep. I heard my name a couple times.” 

“I’m sure ya did,” he said. His voice was extra husked from sleep and pain, as well as from moving his own muscles. Still, he continued to pull you close, close enough that your faces were now inches apart. “Most of the time, I was doin’ this.”

And he kissed you, so slowly, so gently, that you whined. 

His lips molded to yours expertly, parting your lips enough to make you begin to sweat, and you reciprocated the pressure. His hands framed your face and your hands worked their way up to his own, scratching your fingertips across his glorious, salted beard. It was just as soft as you had envisioned. His lips were slightly chapped and his breath was filled with sleep, which you got even more of a taste of when he slipped his tongue into your mouth, and you immediately became his zealot, and he became yours. 

With one last slip of his tongue, he pulled away. You reached in for more but he shook his head, brushing your hair away from your face. 

“I can’t lead you where I want this to end, darlin’, not like this,” he whispered, “but I will.”

You smiled at him and pecked his lips one last time. “I know you will.”

He smiled and nodded, the pain of his stomach obviously starting to get to him, and you laid his head back to rest. “Sleep. Ellie will be back soon, she’s tracked down some medicine.”

He nodded once more and calmed his breathing, obviously beginning to fade into a sleep that he could no longer fight, and you brushed his hair back as you watched. 

“Sleep Joel.”

He smiled, nice and wide, and whispered one thing before he was out cold. “I’ll dream of you.”

You hummed. “So will I.”

Tag List: (if you’d like to be added to my Joel taglist or any of my taglists, please feel free to ask!)

@leahkenobi​

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

For the Fanfic Roulette, any chance you can do 30, 24, and Ezra Bridger? Thanks so much! (btw can you tag me in the post so I see when it’s up???)

Oh @skyofnostars *shake my head* what am I to do with you. How is it that you gave me the best request ever!!! *Squeezing you in a bear hug* Do you know you actually had me stumped for a day and a half. I had to go back and watch all critical Ezra Bridger episodes both in Rebels and Ahsoka, to get my mind wrapped around exactly what I wanted to write.

I don't know if this is what you were looking for, however I do hope that you enjoy it, because it actually turned out quite adorable if I do say so myself.

Thank you for such an awesome request.

Love oo,

The Return

Warnings: Longing, lost love, emotions, tears, kissing, disappearance, I think that's it. If I miss any please let me know.

Main Master List   |  Star Wars Fic Roulette

Ezra couldn’t help smiling as his eyes focused on your face after he got off the Imperial shuttle. He wanted to run over to you right away, but between someone shouting, “Someone get the medic. Get the medic!”Which simply made him laugh, and then Hera ran over and grabbed him, squeezing him like there was no tomorrow, making him remember what family was and how much he missed you all; he needed to wait to see you. 

Once he finally had a chance to actually breathe, he didn’t stop searching for you among the crowd that were still looking at him as though he had come back from the dead. He searched and searched until he found your face once again again. And even though everyone else looked at him like he was an anomaly, a freak. 

Your eyes … well, your eyes only held one thought, ‘he was back.’

His breath caught in his throat, as he locked eyes with you. He’d forgotten how amazing those eyes of yours were. You had always made comments about his piercing blue eyes, however, to him they were nothing in comparison with yours. 

Your eyes held the world for him. They were always full of admiration, devotion and longing, and if your eyes weren’t enough, your lips always held that smile that was specially reserved for him. The same smile you currently were wearing on your lips. All in all, regardless of the distance and the years apart, you were still the most beautiful person he’d ever known. 

The moment he said bye to you on Lothal, hearing you begging and pleading with him to get off of Thrawn’s ship, telling him how you loved him to the end of time and back, how you’d always loved him. All he wanted was to run off Thrawn’s ship and into your waiting arms, but he couldn’t. Kannan taught him that he needed to make this one sacrifice for the greater good. Kannan’s last lesson, he said. Oh god, how he wanted to kiss you one last time, hold you in his arms one more time, holding you so tight you’d never forget what his arms felt like, at that moment, he understood how Kannan must’ve felt, when he made the ultimate sacrifice. It had been the hardest goodbye he’d ever have to give. 

After all, you’d been by his side since you were kids, growing up together, staying close even after his parents were taken. You never left his side when you both had to live on the street after your own parents were killed by the Empire. You were even there when he joined the rebels. You’d always been there, just like his shadow. 

He can still remember how idiotic he’d been … no. How confused he was when he first met Sabine, he’d never met someone like her, and of course his world turned on its head when he met her. But somewhere between losing Kannan and seeing Sabine with her family, somehow he realized, you had been more than a shadow. More than a friend. More than anything he ever thought possible. You were his heart, and that’s when he realized it had always been you. 

Yet, your time together was cut short when he had to make the ultimate decision to sacrifice himself, to save you. To save Lothal. He tried to tell you in his own subtle way he’d be back. How he’d never stop loving you. How you were more to him than anything else the galaxy had to offer, and as smooth as he hoped his subtlety was, it didn’t work the way he’d hoped. 

Instead, he felt your heart break when he said goodbye. He had felt your despair, your soul crushing. 

He never meant to be gone for so long. He had always meant to come back to you. However, returning to you was out of his hands. There was nothing he could do while he waited on Peridea. 

So when his eyes locked on you, his emotions took over. This time he wasn’t going to let anything stop him, he ran over to you, wrapping his arms around you, and burying his face into your neck. He couldn’t help smiling when he felt your arms wrap around him, holding him tight.

“You’re back…” it was all you were able to manage before the tears started coming hard and fast. You could feel your broken heart healing. Your soul repairing simply because you held him in your arms. You smelled his scent. You felt his heart beating against your chest. 

Ezra pulled back enough just to wipe your tears, as he looked at you. Somehow you were even more beautiful than you were five minutes ago. On the one hand, he did feel bad for leaving Sabine and Ahsoka back on Peridea, on the other hand he was finally able to hold you in his arms after ten long years. 

Ten years of waiting. 

Ten years of longing. 

As he looked into your eyes, his eyes glanced down to your lips. The desire to kiss you had never been stronger, he was hesitant at first, but he had ten years to think about it and didn’t want to hold back any longer. 

He leaned forward, tilting his head ever so gently, a smile on his lips, tears sliding down his cheek as he closed the distance between you, placing his lips on your soft ones. As soon as your lips felt his, neither of you held back.

Maybe you should’ve cared that he still hadn’t been debriefed, maybe you should’ve cared that he was in a stormtrooper’s uniform, or maybe you should’ve cared about the imperial shuttle that was sitting there.

However, neither of you cared. 

You didn’t care that you were in the middle of the hangar bay.

You didn’t care that others were watching. 

The only thing that mattered at that moment was realizing you both finally felt like you were home. As though the pieces of your heart that had been missing for the past ten years, were suddenly healing, and once again you both were whole. 

You pulled away and kissed his cheek, his neck, his shoulder, as you pulled him in for a hug, and held him tight. He was home. He was alive. He wasn’t hurt, and frankly that’s all that mattered. He was there with you. 

“I missed you so much.” You whispered into his ear, as you breathed in his scent. Needing to remind yourself over and over again, this wasn’t a dream. 

“I missed you, too.” He whispered back, his face buried in your hair, “There wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t think of you.”

“How did you get back?”

“It’s a long story.”

Both of your voices were low, everyone had started to scatter thanks to Hera’s intervention. She knew how much his disappearance weighed on you, kept you isolated, kept you hardened. As Hera watched you heal, she wiped a tear, happy that a part of her family had returned.

“I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you.” Ezra vowed as he whispered in your ear, these words were for you and you alone. 

“I always knew you’d come home. I never stopped loving. I’ll love you until the stars turn cold.” Regardless of anything else, as of right now you were grateful he was home and in your arms.

Main Master List   |  Star Wars Fic Roulette

Tag list:

@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24@spicymcnuggies@lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @sprout-fics @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @ulchabhangorm @littlemisspascal @tortor-mcgee @vodika-vibes @clonethirstingisreal

[krirebr]

Because I’m an ass another what if ask for your Kris-mas:

In More than This - Steve deserves the world. That’s a fact. And I will not be taking questions. So my what if:

What if readers mom and Steve’s dad didn’t get together until they were adults?

If you don’t already know where I’m going with this…what if Linda was actually onto something about Steve and readers relationship (again they did not grow up together, etc.)

😘

Ok, first off, I'm answering your 2nd ask before your first and just ruining all continuity. 😂 I just love this question so much and couldn't wait to get it posted!

So, I thought very long and hard about this and I knew I wanted to rewrite a scene from More Than This with this alternate alternate universe in mind. I considered doing their Ch 2 conversation together right before the wedding with Linda as a kind of looming specter, but Steve let me know that in these circumstances, he would have taken control long before then. So instead, here is a rewrite of their first scene in Ch 1. This happens right after Joseph makes her sign the contract. I hope you like it!

This is also about 1.2k and really pushes the limits of the definition of a drabble.

Tell Me One Thing

Pairing: Steve Rogers x f!reader

Warnings: Explicit language, angst, hopeful ending

You let yourself into Steve’s apartment, using the key he’d given you on the day he’d moved in. He wasn’t in his front room, so you moved all the way to the back, to the spare room he used as an art studio. As you entered, you lightly knocked on the doorframe, trying not to startle him. He was standing with his hands on his hips, staring at a half-finished painting, but looked over his shoulder as soon as he heard you. There was a warm, loving smile on his face, but it dropped as soon as he took in your expression. “What happened?” he asked as you stepped into his arms.

“I think we might be really fucked, Steve,” you muttered into his chest. You knew you shouldn’t be taking comfort in his body right now; you should be starting the process of pulling away, putting distance between the two of you, but you just couldn’t. He was all you had and you didn’t know how you’d survive losing him.

He took your face in both hands and made you look at him. “Tell me what happened,” he demanded seriously, as his eyes searched your face. You were freaking him out.

You sighed. “Your dad–” you blinked away tears as Steve’s face darkened. Another sigh. “I’m engaged.”

He dropped his hands and stepped back, looking at you carefully. “You’ve been engaged before,” he said, his voice purposely measured, trying not to show he was upset. “Nothing ever comes of it.” 

“I think this one is real, Steve.”

“What makes you think that?” his voice was harsh, but you knew it wasn’t directed at you. Never at you.

“They set a date.” His eyes widened and he pursed his lips. You took a deep breath and continued, “A month from now.”

“A month from now?” he almost shouted, and your resolve finally crumbled, unable to hold back the tears anymore.

“I’m sorry,” you shook your head while you tried to wipe the tears away. “I can’t– I–”

You were in his arms before you realized what had happened. “Hey, hey,” he soothed. “You’re okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“How?” you asked. “How is it going to be ok? I’m getting married, Steve!”

He gently sat you on the couch and then pulled a chair from the corner to sit across from you, close enough that your knees touched. “I’ll talk to my dad. Buy us some time at least.”

You shook your head, remembering the most damning detail. “It won’t work. Everything’s already signed.” You squeezed your eyes shut. “I signed. They made me sign, Steve. I’m so sorry!”

You felt him grab your hand and you reluctantly opened your eyes, afraid of what you’d find on his face. But when you made yourself look at him, all that was there was concern for you. How had you been so lucky as to find this man? Four years ago when your mother had finally been desperate enough to accept another arrangement, you’d only expected more of the same. Just another old man with a say as to what your future would look like. Joseph was exactly who you’d thought he’d be. But Steve, you never could have dreamed up Steve. Kind, attentive, generous, and so beautiful. The two of you quickly became very good friends, and then, after a drunken night out, something else. As you found yourself repeatedly falling into his bed, you knew you should stop. You both did. But you couldn’t. How were you supposed to resist him? He was your one good thing. So you kept it between the two of you, knowing your family would never stand for it. And before you knew it, you’d fallen in love with him. You’d kept that a secret too. 

His voice brought you back to the present, his thumb gently moving over the back of your hand. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said, softly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“What are we going to do, Steve?” you whispered. “I don’t think I can lose you.”

“You’ll never lose me,” he said, in his most serious voice. “Not ever. No matter what.” Neither of you said anything for the next several moments, Steve seemingly lost in thought, while you just tried to remember how to breathe. Then, finally, he spoke again. “Maybe nothing really has to change. We’ve kept this a secret for so long. We can just keep doing that.”

You took a deep breath, still not ready to confront the worst part of this. “He lives in Boston,” you said quietly. “I’ll be moving to Boston.”

 Steve’s face fell, his hold on your hands getting tighter. “Who.” he said, without any inflection.

“Ransom Drysdale.”

Steve stood up so fast that the chair tumbled over behind him. “No,” he growled. “Absolutely not!”

“Steve,” you sighed, suddenly so tired, looking up at him from the couch. 

He didn’t say anything, just stood there with his hands on his hips, shaking his head, his jaw ticking, staring into the corner. 

You sank into the silence, holding your head in your hands. You couldn’t believe how quickly everything had fallen apart. You should have been more prepared. Of course, this day would come.

Finally, after you didn’t even know how long, Steve spoke again, still staring into the corner. “We could just go.”

Your head shot up. “What?”

He turned his attention back to you. “We could go. Tonight. Why not?”

“A thousand reasons why not!” You were suddenly shouting. What was he thinking? Where had this come from? You couldn’t keep up. “I– What? Where would we even go?!”

He shrugged. “Somewhere. Anywhere. I have a little money put away, don’t you? Anywhere we want.”

You wanted to shake him. “Steve, that’s not–” You shook your head. “That isn’t a plan!”

“You want a plan?” he asked.

You stood up, throwing your hands in the air. “Yes! At minimum!”

“Ok,” he nodded and then grinned at you. “Come back in an hour and I’ll have a plan.”

“Steve,” you breathed, helplessly. 

He stepped back into your space, taking your face in his hands. “I love you. More than anything. Do you love me?”

Your eyes fluttered shut for just a moment then looked back at him. “Yes. You know I do.”

He nodded as a genuine smile lit up his entire face. He was so beautiful. “I think, I’ve always known we might have to do this. Somewhere in the back of my mind, it’s always been there. I’m not losing you. Especially not to Ransom Drysdale,” he growled the name. “Go home, get Lola. Maybe an overnight bag. Then come back here and I’ll have a plan for you.”

You searched his face, for what you didn’t entirely know. He was confident, resolute. Sure. Despite yourself, you nodded. “Ok.”

You started to pull away but his hands on your face wouldn’t let you. You looked at him in question and he shook his head. “I can’t believe you’ve been in my home all this time, and I haven’t kissed you yet. What’s wrong with me?” He leaned in and kissed you, gently at first, but as soon as you started kissing him back, he made it more passionate, filthier. It felt like he poured everything he wanted you to know into it. How much he loved you. How sure he was of a future together. This, of all things, had you believing, too, that maybe it was possible.

Join my Krismas Party!

Tag lists are open

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[jstarr86]

Randomness in my head hope you enjoy. OC face claim will be Guilia

Italics are Japanese Bold Italic is Text

The best kept secret of NJPW. At least they had been until he left. Drawn like a moth to a flame it was a whirlwind of passion; at least it had been until he revealed he was leaving. He was going back to America and he couldn’t even give her a heads up. She didn’t find out until after his match during the post match interview when he’d dropped a bomb. Her water bottle hitting the floor as liquid poured out as she stood shocked but quickly cleaned up the mess pretending that she hadn’t heard the words he’d spoken. Later her phone rang half tempted to hit the fuck you button she instead did as she always had and swiped right accepting the call.

“What?”

“You free.”

“Mhmm.”

“You good Kaira.”

“I’m fine Tama. The door will be unlocked.” She said hanging up. She signed taking a quick shower and changing and laying across her bed. She heard the door open as he arrived and soon enough his frame was standing in the doorway of her bedroom.

“Sup beautiful.”

“You tell me.”

“What?”

“Where you gonna tell me your leaving?”

“Yeah.”

“When?” She questioned as he looked stuck making her chuckle bitterly.

“Yeah”

“ when on the flight back to America. Asshole.”

“I’m not an asshole.”

“Yeah you are.”

“Makaira.”

“What.”

“You forreal mad.”

“Nope don’t fucking care.”

“Yeah you do, otherwise you wouldn’t be this pissed.” She rolled her eyes the taller in her hardened face slightly breaking as he leaned over her pressing his soft lips into the back of her shoulder. His bronze skin contrast against hers.

“I’m still upset with you.”

“Why baby. I’m sorry”

“You could have told me instead of me finding out like that.”

“I know I’m sorry, just, I miss. I miss my kids Makaira they’re growing up without me.”

“And I understand that I’d never stand in your way but a heads up would’ve been nice.”

She slapped him lightly as the aggressively fucked. Never had sex between them been so passionate yet volatile; but nonetheless amazing. He smacked ass in response gently gripping her throat feeling the moan she tried to suppress causing him to smirk and flip them over tossing one of her legs over his shoulder as she responded loudly her head going back as his lips met her throat.

“When are you leaving?” She asked as they lay in bed his fingers trailing up and down her side.

“The end of next month.” She nodded not speaking no words to say, then again what could she really say. She knew it was over, that whatever the past few years had been was coming to an end a end she didn’t know what to feel about. His last night came faster than either had thought or liked for that matter.

Can I see you she looked at her phone as it dinged it was late she contemplated ignoring him saying no but she couldn’t bring herself to do it, he’d started to mean too much; more than she’d ever let him know.

You have your kid with you

He’s asleep and my brothers can watch him. Can I see you

Fine

“Welcome to the WWE Makaira.”

“Thank you.” Leaving the meeting she grabbed lunch and went back to her new home. A nice little two bedroom apartment in Orlando. The warm Florida sun a huge contrast. Perpetual summer not seasons like she’s been used to in Japan. Part of her missed home but she knew this was where she belonged. The past few months had been hard, he’d left and almost taken a piece of her with him. Harder he’d left a piece of himself, at least for a few a bit over a month. Something that had shocked and terrified her. But she didn’t get to enjoy it or hell even tell him. A mere week and a half after finding out she damn near collapsed in pain at home there was so much blood. She made it to the hospital only to find out she was losing the fetus the last piece of him.

Ironically after he’d left a few months later she had a call and offer from the same company. They’d even offered to wait for her, to finish out the few shows she’d signed for with other places. She’s finally lost her beloved NJPW women’s title to her friend Mercedes and she dropped her tag title. Thankfully shouldn’t have to see him at least not much. He’d been immediately sent to the main roster she on the other hand was going NXT. Then again that would be under Shawn Michaels one of if not ther favorite wrestler. She sighed packing.

She sighed packing her bags. Training had been ok training was going good, she got along well with generally everyone and she’d managed to evade him, easier done on different brands. She looked up when commotion started and her throat tightened as her stomach rose to her throat. He was here. He was beating up the tag teams in the ring leaving the back scrambling.

She quickly grabbed her things leaving she couldn’t face him. Why was he here why had they done this. God he looked beautiful and she couldn’t help her eyes trailing over his shredded frame. She shook her head clear of reminiscing of her hands trailing those defined muscles and abruptly left hands shaking as she desperately tried to get the right key as she made her way to her car she heard the doors burst open and their loud voices. She tossed her bags in her car the noise suddenly quieting and she made the mistake as she went to open her door if looking up and her eyes locked with his, her breath hitching.

“Makaira.” She didn’t hear him but she could read his lips and what he said. She quickly got in starting the car and only stopping slamming her breaks as he stood in the way leaving her no other choice but to stop because she wouldn’t run him over. Her eyes glanced to where his brother and his guess kinda cousin stood watching in confusion. “Open the door.” She shook her head waving her hand for him to move. He leaned over putting his hands on her hood “I’m getting in.”

“No.”

“Makaira Sakari Deschene.” Her eyes widened as he spoke angrily saying her full name. She saw his brothers eyebrow raise. “Jacob come here.” As he walked over he pointed. “Stay here so she can’t move.” He came to her door leaning down “unlock the door.”

“Go away.”

“Unlock the fucking door awee.” She paused as he spoke calling her baby but she was shocked not knowing he knew the word let alone the meaning. Her fathers native language. She looked at him trying to keep the hard look through the cracked window she was between a rock and a hard place clearly he wanted to talk and she didn’t really have a choice unless she wanted to commit vehicular manslaughter. She sighed angrily tossing the car in park and hitting unlock as he walked around the car and got in shutting the door. He rolled the window down sticking his head out. “I’ll hit y’all up later.” He then looked at her. “Drive.” She took a deep breath silently listening as Jacob moved and she drove off. The awkwardness filling the space.

“Where am I going?” She asked quietly soft voice barley above a whisper but she knew he heard her, his head turning towards her out of her peripheral was indication

“I fuck it your place or wait do you got a roommate?”

“No.” She drove home parking her car she felt him behind her as she walked. Goosebumps lining her pale skin that came with her mixed heritage. Half Japanese and half Native American. Her parents had met while her father had been stationed with the army in Japan.

“This looks nice.”

“Thanks.”

“How’ve you been.”

“What do you want?” She asked. She didn’t know what to feel, angry, sad, happy, nothing even looking at him was hard things he didn’t know that she couldn’t tell him, would never tell him.

“You left Japan.”

“So.”

“Didn’t ever see that one.”

“Yeah well pay good it’s WWE.” She replied her slight accent in her voice.

“I didn’t think you’d ever leave, especially you’re parents.”

“Speaking of parents how is yours.” She asked

“Good you?”

“Good.” She sighed looking at him “what do you want Tama.”

“I, I missed you.” She rolled her eyes. He hadn’t so much had called

“Missed, missed me.” She bitterly laughed as he looked a mix of annoyed and hurt. “You don’t miss me you miss body.”

“You were more than that.”

“Was I?” She asked “tell me what was then. Late nights sex stolen moments. The best secret no one knew of.”

“Hitori knew.”

“What?”

“He knew he called me out my last night, he knew for months.”

“So.”

“So nothing we had something.”

“Sex we had sex.”

“It was more than that and you know it.”

“Wherever Tama.” He abruptly stood mere inches from her as he reached out to touch her. Large warm hand gently meeting her check, his long fingers curling around the neck as his thumb softly rubbed her cheek.

“I missed you Kai.” He spoke softly but with conviction. Her eyes met his, looking briefly over his face his brown eyes pool of chocolate shed drunkenly told him one night they reminded her of chocolate chips while she munched on chocolate chip cookies making him laugh. The scar on his forehead. His soft thick lips with a perfect cupids how enough to make a any girl jealous. His long eyelashes shed once pranked him as he slept in exhaustion and put mascara on him he hadn’t been that happy after that the facial hair he’d dyed covering the grays that she’d liked. The salt and pepper creeping into his beard she’d found attractive.

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

“I don’t.” She barley whispered before his lips met hers. Passion igniting into an inferno as they tasted each other for the first time in months. She pulled away as hard as it was both their chest heaving. “I I can’t.”

“You can’t what?” He asked quietly his low voice sending shivers down her spine

“This I we can’t.”

“Why can’t we.”

“I’m ou know why.”

“No I don’t. We had something Makaira it was special.”

“It was a hidden secret for years.”

“Because that’s what we agreed on shit you didn’t think I didn’t wanna let people know, that I didn’t think about throwing it all out the window every time I saw you.”

“I-“

“If you believe that your fucking crazy.”

“I-“

“Please, let me love you.”

“You can’t love me, you have a life, you have kids.”

“I had a kid the whole time we was together pick a different excuse. After everything we’ve been thru Makaira.”

“I-.” He cut her off kissing her more passionately then she’d ever experienced and it took her breath away. She knew her resolve was cracking if anything he’d always been her weakness, since whatever this was started. “We live different lives now.”

“Nah we don’t we live in the same world.” He said pressing his lips to hers

“Different brand different schedule, I-“

“Stop the bullshit excuses.”

“I-“

“I think I love you.”

“No you don’t it’s just sex.”

“Because that’s what you want I want more I’ve been wanting more. Sex isn’t love love is seeing someone at their worst and still choosing to love them.”

“You haven’t seen my worst.”

“Than let me.”

“Tama- I.” He kissed her again slowly but surely short circuiting her brain “Everyone’s gonna think I only got hired for fucking you.”

“Man fuck what everyone thinks, you’re here because you’re one of the best and deserve it, no one even knew about the past few years and shit for a half year we wasn’t even together because of lockdown I was in Florida and you were still in Japan.” She grabbed his head bringing his tall frame down to hers their kiss heated as she ran her hands over his torso feeling his defined muscles before bring her hands back up sliding them over his shoulders and around his neck as their kiss heated up. She squealed in his mouth as he lifted her effortlessly into his arms blindly walking. Almost like he knew where to go as she felt the bed meet her back, for never being here he sure figured his way around fast.

“Oh my god” she moaned loudly. She’d forgotten how amazing he was when it came to intimacy.

“You gonna get a damn noise complaint.”

“Fuck the noise.” She gasped out “Tama” she cried out in pleasure clingling to him nails raking down his muscular back as he grunted in pain. Her hips moving involuntarily making him sink deeper as they chased a release and high they both didn’t know they’d missed.

“Ofa atu.”

“Ayoo’aniinishni.” She replied as they kissed while trying to regulate their breaths. He eventually moved off her pulling her small frame into his arms. “Now what?” She asked tracing the tattoo on his forearm. The intricate art fascinating her. She’d eventually gotten a tattoo hidden even from her parents a small sakura blossom on her hip, the only person to ever see it had been him.

“We make it work. W make it work.” He said kissing her head as he felt her breathe even out as she fell asleep. A small smirk gracing his face as he turned into her breathing in her scent as he let himself fall asleep.

Awee means baby in Navajo

Ofa atu means I love you in Tongan

Ayoo’aniinishni means I love you in Navajo