#yet somehow this one is nearing 10k

[otterandterrier]

every time I come across that ridiculously popular han/leia fic where just straight up from the summary I can already tell they're going to be at their most stereotypical ooc versions, I get very salty, like... there's way better stuff out there y'all, you should be reading that even if it doesn't have 10k kudos

[chairofchaos]

When the Blood Burns

Blood (Part 1)

Burns (Part 2)

Pairing: Azriel x Eris

Summary: Azriel and Eris find themselves drawn together during the first war with Hybern. (Requested here)

Rating: Explicit (see warnings- I mean it. I can give details in DMs if you want specifics before reading)

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: violence, homophobia/homophobic violence (if you want details my DMs are open), graphic depictions of wounds and wound care with a very rudimentary understanding of the subject, alcohol use, and much less important than the others but still concerning: unedited.

A/N: Shoutout to @tsunami-of-tears for once again providing me with the perfect divider for this fic. Shoutout to @unanswered-stars forgiving me permission to do whatever I want with this request. And please know I tried to make it short. But now it's almost 10k so this is part 1 of 2. Maybe 3.

Their first meeting was unremarkable. Azriel, blinded with rage over Eris’ rejection of Mor and the ensuing pain it had caused his family, thought nothing of the young lord other than how callous he had been, and avoided him under the orders of his High Lord.

So the first time they had truly met was in a war tent five years and seven months into the war with Hybern. Eris stood with his elder brother behind Beron’s seat at the round table. Rhys and Azriel stood shoulder to shoulder behind Rhys’ father. When the High Lords had dismissed their advisors for a recess in planning, somehow only Eris and Azriel found themselves walking outside. 

They were silent. Azriel scanned the passing troops for any sign of Cassian. It had been three weeks since either he or Rhys had seen him, but there was a chance, stationed here near the western battle grounds, that they would encounter him. Still, even Azriel’s shadows hadn’t been able to locate his brother. 

The shadows' presence was thin. There were only so many he could task, only so many he could control. Only a fraction of his usual cloud of shades stayed with him. Still, they whispered to him. 

“The Autumn lord watches you,” they hissed. They seemed less concerned than intrigued. It wasn’t often people stared directly at him, and yet when Azriel turned his head, the lordling was staring, openly and with no concern.

“Can I help you?”

Eris shrugged evenly. His face was impassive, but he either didn’t know or didn’t care Azriel would notice the shuffle of his feet. “No.”

Azriel raised an eyebrow. “And yet, you have something you want to say.”

Eris’ lips pinched, his eyes darting to the tent entrance. “You have less shadows this time.”

“Yes.”

Eris waited, but Azriel was more patient and well aware that the Lord just wanted him to speak. Finally, Eris sighed. “Are you… well?”

Well? Azriel was… oh. He dared a glare. The lord was nosy. “I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

“You have less shadows. That isn’t a symptom of something being wrong?”

“No. It’s a symptom of being at war.”

“Ah,” the lord breathed. “That’s… good.”

Azriel didn't bother to respond before he turned and walked back into the tent. Such an odd male.

Two months passed before they crossed paths again. Azriel had shadow-walked to take a message from his High Lord to the High Lord of Winter. Rhys had been sent away as well. There was little to lure him back, so he would take advantage of the distance between the two encampments to take a night away. It was already after dark. He could safely return in the morning with no one noticing.

Once he retrieved the paper with the instructions, he walked the encampment shrouded in shadows. Here, Winter and Autumn soldiers did not mingle. In fact, the road Azriel walked through the camp was so stark a dividing line he found himself all alone. Except…

“Oof!”

A figure had darted awkwardly from behind a Winter tent. They were looking over their shoulder, and had plowed straight into Azriel. 

Azriel snarled, wings flaring behind him to keep himself righted as the figure fell at his feet.

“Watch where you’re going,” he growled, stepping back. His hand instinctively rested on Truth Teller’s handle while he glared at the figure. The road was so dark he couldn’t even see the insignia on the soldier’s tunic.

“I- My apologies.” It took Azriel the time it took for the male to scramble to his feet to place the voice.

“Vanserra?”

“Shadowsinger,” was the response. It was curt in a way Eris’ attempts at conversation hadn’t been previously. Yet this time, Azriel’s shadows said nothing.

“You really should watch where you’re going.”

“I know,” Eris snapped.

“Snippy tonight, aren’t we?” He had been moving quickly, and yet was no longer rushing. It was odd enough for Azriel to order shadows to examine him. It was dark, so it was easy for them to go unnoticed. 

“Do I owe you courtesy?” was the bitter response.

“You crashed into me.” His shadows slithered about his ears, talking over one another.

“And I apologized.”

It was then that the shadows’ one-word report made sense. Blood. There was blood gushing from the male’s body. When he paused, Azriel could smell the metallic tang from Eris’ general direction, distinct from the days old blood scent of the camp around them. It was enough to send his shadows into a vague fury, as if they couldn’t decide whether this was something to be concerned about given who the male in question was. 

Eris waited, standing there in complete stillness. 

“You’re injured,” Azriel finally settled on. 

Eris snorted. “And? So is everyone.”

“It isn’t a war wound. This camp has not seen battle in over a week and that wound is fresh.”

“Does it matter?” Eris snapped. “I don’t know why you bother to bring it up at all.”

Azriel took a deep breath. “Because if you’re fighting next to my brother your injury could get him killed. I know you haven’t seen much battle, but from what I’ve heard your father is doing everything he can to keep you on the front lines to get you killed. I’d rather not give him the satisfaction if it means my brother dies.”

Autumn and Night court soldiers had been fighting alongside each other frequently. With Winter replacing Night Court forces in this camp, chances were dwindling, but it wasn’t a risk Azriel was willing to take.

Eris tried a new tactic: complete silence. Still, Azriel saw his silhouette cross his arms defensively. It was a bad move. His hands were pinned where they were, and he was already off balance. Azriel took the opportunity to reach a hand out and shove the male’s shoulder with a moderate amount of force.

Eris’ sharp intake of breath gave Azriel more pause than he expected. “I’ll tend your wound,” Azriel said gruffly. “I refuse to let you get killed over some stupid fight with a soldier from another court.”

Still, Eris didn’t move. 

“You can walk, can’t you? You were doing fine when you ran into me.”

“I’m fine,” Eris bit out. “Leave.”

Azriel snorted. Now he definitely wouldn’t leave the male alone. “No. You’re in more danger like that than you know.”

“And what would you know of it?” Eris all but hissed at him, arms uncrossing to clench against his sides. “You don’t scare me.”

“I should,” Azriel snapped back. “I should terrify you. I could have killed you about thirty different ways in the course of this conversation.”

“You’re not touching my– wound.” Eris’ voice broke. 

“You aren’t tending it yourself.”

“I’ll go to a healer.”

“No,” Azriel shook his head. “You won’t. Because if your father finds out he’ll use it to his advantage. Why does he hate you so much?”

“I can handle it myself,” Eris’ voice was losing all conviction and confidence. 

“No.”

“Leave.”

“I trust you know somewhere safe enough. I’ll get the supplies and meet you there. A shadow will tell me where you end up, or I can winnow us there.”

That seemed to give Eris pause. “I thought shadowsingers did something called shadow-walking.”

Azriel balked. It was rare anyone bothered to know the difference, let alone remark on it. He nodded, then remembered the male likely couldn’t see him. He cleared his throat before saying, “Yes.”

“Can we shadow-walk?” Now, the lord just sounded tired.

“Yes. Where are we going?”

“North of camp, there’s a glade.”

“It’s safe?”

“Yes.” Eris reached his right hand out.

Azriel gripped the male’s wrist roughly with his own right hand, binding their hands together with shadows who seemed all too eager. “Don’t let go,” he warned. 

“I won’t.”

A blink and a breath of complete darkness followed before they arrived in the clearing, which Azriel’s shadows had found quickly. A small fire was reduced near to ashes in the center of the glade, but it was more light than the road had held. Eris moved to drop Azriel’s hand, but the shadowsinger shook his head, motioning for the lord to stay silent and wait.

The shadows not binding them together scattered, darting around the trees at the outskirts and winding back to Azriel once they had cleared the area and confirmed its safety. “Safe. Safe. Safe,” was their chorus, one after the other. 

When Azriel was satisfied, he sent a third of them for supplies, tasking another third to unroll the lord’s bedroll, which they had found tucked in an oak, next to the fire. Dropping Eris’ hand, he crossed to a small pile of wood at the edge of the glade and collected half of it to bank the fire. Eris stayed where he was, watching silently. 

“Come sit,” Azriel ordered, pointing to the bedroll as he squatted to blow at the cinders and coals and encourage what little flame was left to grow, to light the new wood and give them more light and heat. Eris made no move to help him, so Azriel didn’t bother to ask. 

With the increasing light, Azriel could see the dark gleaming of what had to be blood down Eris’ thigh as he walked. There was a lot. The side of his leg was saturated to the top of his boot, while the wound seemed to originate near his hip bone. It had to be nasty for Eris to be bleeding that much. That explained why he hadn’t offered to help with the fire, or, better yet, to feed the fire himself with his power. Yet, he walked. 

That took strength. Azriel almost found it in himself to be impressed as the male lowered himself gracefully to the ground. 

His shadows had begun piling bandages and other important things by Azriel’s side. He sent one of them off in pursuit of a new pair of pants for the lord, who wouldn’t be wearing this pair again without an excellent laundress, and those who could keep secrets were in short supply in a war camp when information was money.

“Take your pants off,” Azriel commanded. Eris winced.

“I’m not sure I can.”

“I'll have to cut them off.”

Eris hesitated, his eyes darting to Truth Teller. “Be careful.”

How badly hurt was he, that he would allow Azriel to have a knife that close to his skin, to vital blood supply? 

As the light increased, so did Azriel’s concern that the male’s condition may not be as stable as he originally thought. His skin seemed to pale more and more with every flare of the fire. Sweat dripped from his brow, despite the chilly night around them. And he was obedient. Vanserras, in Azriel's admittedly limited experience, were never obedient. Certainly not to orders given from a Night Court grunt.

As if they sensed his growing concern, shadows dispatched to scan the male again. They returned with whispers of blood and wounds– multiple. Azriel nearly sighed. This was perhaps a bigger job than he anticipated. He sent shadows now to retrieve his own bedroll and bag. He’d be damned if the last thing anyone saw before the autumn lord died was the two of them together, and there was no real way to guarantee he hadn’t been seen with Eris on that road. Damn it all.

“How many wounds are there?” he asked, unsheathing Truth-Teller and setting the supplies beside Eris.

“Just the one.”

“Don’t lie to me. If you die, it’s my wings they’ll come after.”

Eris glanced over Azriel’s shoulder at the reddish membranes which were his constant companion, his pride and joy.

“Three.”

“Only three?”

“Only three,” Eris confirmed.

“Where?”

Eris gestured at his right shoulder, waved a hand over his injured leg, and then looked away.

“That’s two,” Azriel commented. “You’re going to need to take that tunic off, too, but let’s start with your leg.”

Eris laid back. Azriel reached into his boot to retrieve a flask and offer it up. “Whiskey. It’ll take the sting off.”

Eris grimaced, but took the flask anyways, draining what was left of the alcohol from it before handing it back. 

Azriel knelt at his side, the fire on Eris’ other side giving him light to work. Truth Teller made quick work of a cut through Eris’ pants from ankle to waist, and Azriel sheathed the blade quickly. When he removed the fabric a barrier which had begun to form to protect the wound would be removed, and he needed to know everything he could before that happened.

“What blade was used?”

Eris blinked at him slowly. He was fading, fast. “A dagger.”

“Was it poisoned?”

“No,” Eris shook his head with conviction.

“Was there anything special about the blade?”

“Standard Winter court issue,” he said. 

Azriel nodded. “Alright. This is going to hurt.”

Eris paused, looking at Azriel, then turning his head to the fire. Azriel barely heard the quiet “I know” which followed.

Azriel pulled the fabric of the male’s pants away from him and grimaced. Eris didn't even flinch. The cut went across the male’s hipbone nearly twelve inches to the outside of his upper thigh, getting deeper as if Eris had rolled into the knife to protect his midline.

“Tell me what happened,” Azriel ordered as his hands began to move. Damn it all, they were cold. And tired. He was so tired. But he couldn’t let Eris die. For some reason, he needed the male to live.

“No.” Eris countered with a fire he hadn’t shown all evening. It was the first anger Azriel had heard from the male, and it awoke something in him. He dumped three antiseptic potions across the wound. Eris barely moved, blinking up at the stars.

“You could die,” Azriel snarled, pressing bandages against the seeping wound. “Why? You are the son of a high lord. If it was a standard issue Winter court blade it likely wasn't anybody of your status. Why protect them?”

Eris bit his lower lip. Azriel pulled Truth Teller out to cut through what was left of the male’s pants and underwear and remove them. A long strip of fabric wound around the male’s waist, then around his upper thigh, to secure the padding of bandages against the long wound. When Azriel was certain the bands wouldn’t move, he tied them off in a quick knot and looked up at the lord’s face. 

His eyes were closed, his face turned slightly toward the fire. He looked slightly flushed, and yet entirely too pale. His breathing was shallow. He needed water. Food, too. He didn’t seem to be interested in answering any more questions. Maybe those things would loosen his lips.

First, the other wounds. The removal of all his clothing revealed a gash along his shoulder, about four inches long. It wasn’t deep, but it was angled, and the skin could be folded back away from the wound. Azriel stitched that one with quick stitches. He would have stitched the large one, but without any indication that it wouldn’t get infected, he was unsure about closing it with the sutures which would solidify by the time the horizon had light on it. An infection growing beneath the skin was much worse than a scar from skin knitting itself back together.

The last wound didn’t immediately present itself, so Azriel had nudged Eris until he grudgingly rolled onto his side.

His bare back was a maze of scars. Azriel was struck immediately by how well his hands blended with the mottled skin of Eris’ back, burns seemingly crisscrossed by the stripes of what had to have been made by a very long, thick whip. It turned his stomach to see just how broken the male’s back was. They weren’t that different in age, and Azriel had his fair share of scars. But this was a level of brutality Azriel hadn’t expected to find carved into the male’s skin. It was no doubt he hadn’t flinched at the stitches, or even the bandaging. He had to be intimately familiar with both.

One wound on his back, a long stripe across his shoulder blade, was red and struggling to close. Azriel stitched that closed, too, before throwing the bandages he had used to wipe the male’s blood away into the fire. Seeming to know it was over, Eris rolled back onto his back. He didn’t open his eyes, but his breathing seemed slightly steadier.

Azriel grabbed his bag from where the shadows had dumped it unceremoniously behind him and retrieved a tin of dried meat and crackers.

“Eat,” he ordered, setting the tin on Vanserra's stomach. “I’m getting us water.”

Eris cracked an eye open to stare at him. “Fine.”

Azriel ordered some shadows to scout ahead for water, and some to watch over the lordling, as he unrolled his own bedroll next to Eris. Better to have the fire lord between him and the fire, he told himself.

His shadows returned with a satisfactory report, so he went when he was certain Eris would eat more than a bite or two.

On his return, the container sat on his bedroll, half the food gone.

“You should eat more,” Azriel said, nudging it towards him. 

Eris shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“Drink, then,” he tried. Eris nodded, reaching a reluctant hand to grip the offered bottle.

He propped himself up on an elbow to drink, and swallowed until he finished the whole bottle with a gasp. “Thank you.”

Azriel nodded. He felt as though he hovered over the lord, but he found himself unsettled. “I’ll take the watch.”

Eris didn’t argue or say they didn’t need one. It would have been a lie neither of them would have accepted. He just nodded, dropping his head back and closing his eyes again.

Azriel didn’t bother to wake him through the rest of the night. When light began to peek over the horizon, Eris stirred on his own, sitting up with a groan and a stretch. 

“Thank you,” he said again. 

Azriel nodded. “I need to check your–”

“No,” Eris said abruptly, sitting. “Enough. I will go back to camp, and so should you.”

Azriel shook his head. “You can’t fight like this.”

Eris smirked up at him. “I’ve done it before.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” Azriel narrowed his eyes.

Eris shrugged, shuffling awkwardly until he was on his feet, even though he panted. “That’s fine.”

“I just spent last night putting you back together. If I hear you undo that work, I’ll kill you,” Azriel protested. Eris seemed to soften at that. “I think you should go.”

Azriel bristled even as his shadows obeyed his silent order to retrieve all his things. “Fine.”

“I’ll burn away any trace of you being here,” Eris assured him, waving a hand at his bedroll. It disappeared.

Azriel nodded. “Check those wounds this morning.”

Eris nodded. “I will.”

When Azriel had his bag and bedroll in hand, he shadow-walked away, Eris not sparing him more than a moment’s glance as he disappeared from view.

Their third meeting was much like the first. Outside a war tent, the Autumn court delegation lingered in hushed circles. Their forces had been hit hard in the last of Hybern’s offensives. No doubt they were reconsidering their participation in the ongoing war, if only to save the rest of their soldiers. Still, from the thick of the fray strode Eris Vanserra, his gait no less even than it had been the first times Azriel had seen him.

Azriel couldn’t help but watch him as he stood outside the tent. They had tightened the circle allowed in. The recent losses had been too stark to eliminate the possibility that someone on the council or one of their advisors was selling information or even was an agent of Hybern. It was no doubt that fact which kept the sons close, and everyone else at a very great distance. Still, Azriel could watch from here. Could keep an eye out for either of his brothers. 

Shadows told him nothing of them. Their names were not on the rolls. But here was Eris. Alive, breathing. He would have known if Eris had died. And Eris had not.

“Shadowsinger,” a curt acknowledgement. Azriel nodded firmly in return. No words could explain his relief, even to himself. Eris rolled his shoulders, his embroidered coat restricting his motions. Instead of walking past Azriel, the lord stopped at his side.

“Thank you,” Eris murmured. If Azriel hadn’t been attuned to the male's presence, he wouldn’t have heard it at all. It was dangerous to speak this openly. Eris had to know that. Surely, a High Lord’s son would know that speaking to the spymaster of another court was dangerous. Surely.

Azriel turned to walk away. He would not risk it, but Eris still tried. “Azriel.”

He spun to face Eris, schooling his face into an angry mask. “What?”

Eris’ eyes flashed with an answering anger, then cooled. “I saw your brother. The soldier.”

This was unexpected. Azriel’s eyes narrowed. How would Eris know he searched for his brothers?

As if anticipating the question, Eris stepped closer. “Your shadows, the ones who stayed, told me. I asked them how I could… repay you. They told me. He’s in the next camp over. Injured, but not badly. Ask for Madja.”

Shadows zipped away from Azriel faster than he could respond. He had left some of them with Eris that morning to ensure the male checked and cleaned his wounds.

Now, Eris watched them go, nodding once, then walking on past Azriel. Eris knew what it meant to see those shadows go out. It was all he had needed to see. 

Azriel may not be able to get away on his own, but he could send those shadows. They would find Cassian, who would recognize them and maybe even be able to get away for a day. 

More pressing was that the shadows had spoken to Eris. Had deemed him worthy of information about Azriel. That happened so rarely. Only when Azriel was truly in need of something, or on the rarest of occasions, when he was in true danger, would his shadows bother to try to communicate with anyone. Never before had they shared with someone as nonsensical as Eris Vanserra. He would ask them later why. He hoped they would tell him.

Someone was calling his name. It was the middle of the night, and his shadows were rousing him from sleep with a frantic energy. Months had passed since he had seen Cassian, or Rhys. He had only just gotten back from a scouting mission in Hybern that evening. The war still raged, still slowly marching them all toward death. 

But someone was calling his name. “Hurry,” his shadows urged him. “Fight.” 

The second prompt was enough to speed him. He rarely slept without weapons at hand, and he grabbed two Illyrian blades and strapped them to his back with the speed of a soldier who had been at war for over six years. 

Finally ready, he ordered his shadows to take him where they willed. Emerging from their total darkness into the moonless night with Truth Teller clenched in his hand, he found himself at the edge of that familiar glade. 

This time, it was anything but peaceful. Eris fought against three warriors dressed in dark clothes, their faces concealed by darkness. Azriel recognized the fighting style more than the clothing, and it was for good reason Eris didn’t bother to use his powers. 

In a split second, Azriel shadow-walked to be behind the Autumn court soldiers, disarming one with ease while Eris held his own against the second. Azriel’s blade slid into the side of the throat and was pulled through the front, removing the attacker’s ability to scream as his life faded to a bloody end. 

The third spun from Eris to Azriel. He opened his mouth, but behind him, Eris flicked a dagger from his waist, the blade glinting before Azriel saw the male’s head jerk forward. When he fell, the handle of the blade stuck at a perfect right angle from the base of the male’s skull.

As Azriel had drawn Eris’ attention, his moment’s glance to throw the blade had left his left side unguarded. The remaining autumn warrior took advantage of the opening, and launched himself at the lord. His hand closed around the lord’s throat, and Eris was knocked toward Azriel, but Azriel was faster than the other warrior had perhaps anticipated.

In the span of moments, Azriel had removed the male’s hand from Eris’ throat, disarmed him, and bound him hand and feet with a cord he kept coiled in his boot for moments like this. His shadows had been dispatched to guard the borders of the glade.

Eris rubbed his neck as he offered a wad of cloth to Azriel, who crouched beside the bound warrior. Azriel took the fabric and shoved it into his mouth until he was satisfied the male wouldn’t be able to remove it.

“You need to kill him,” Eris said quietly. 

“I know,” Azriel said. The male’s eyes settled on Azriel as if he had only just now recognized the winged warrior. He began to scream through the fabric. Azriel’s remaining shadows spun around the warrior, examining him.

“Why do you scream?” Eris asked, crouching beside Azriel. “You chose to attack me. Your death was predetermined.”

The male’s eyes flicked to Azriel, then back to Eris, then back to Azriel again as his screaming increased in volume.

Eris snorted. “You truly think the death he will give you is worse than the death I could?”

Azriel couldn’t help but watch the Lord of Autumn as Eris stood. 

“A word, Azriel.” Eris looked down his nose at the screaming soldier. Azriel stood. They walked some distance away before Eris paused and looked over his shoulder at their prisoner.

“We have to kill him,” Eris said. “He recognized you.”

“That’s not surprising,” Azriel said. “Why did they come after you in the first place?”

Eris sighed. “I did something I shouldn’t have, and got caught doing it. Whether my father sent them or they took it upon themselves, I don’t know.”

Azriel paused. “What, exactly, were you doing?” If Eris was spying for Hybern, if he had used Azriel somehow…

Eris sighed. “I slept with one of their brothers.”

Oh. Oh. Prythian was generally safe for males like Eris. And Azriel. But some families held old ways of thinking that would incense hatred beyond caring that Eris was the son of a High Lord. It was that which kept Azriel hiding. He lacked the protection offered to Eris. Currently, he lacked even the protection of his brothers. 

So Azriel just nodded. When Azriel didn’t say anything, Eris sighed.

“How did you come here?”

“My shadows sent me. They were concerned.”

“Have they been watching me?”

“I don’t know,” Azriel admitted. “Sometimes they follow their own whims.”

Eris nodded. “I can handle him.”

“Do you want to?” What was one more body on Azriel’s tally? He’d killed nearly thirty yesterday, getting away from the Hybern guard who had started asking too many of the right questions. What was one more, in the face of the river of blood which had flowed from his hands?

“Not really,” Eris sighed. 

“You sound weary,” Azriel dared. After six years he was more than used to the ebb and flow of fights and battles, yet his heart still pounded in his chest.

“I am.”

“I’ll do it. Stay here.”

Eris said nothing in return but bowed his head.

Azriel crossed back to the bound warrior, who had started trying to roll and scramble away from them with whatever faculty he retained. Azriel placed a booted heel against the man’s collarbone, his toes grounded to the earth as he stood above the male.

“I’m going to take out the gag. Then you’re going to tell me who sent you, and what they wanted. If you don’t, I’ll torture you. This is your one chance. Do you understand?”

The male nodded, eyes glinting with starlight and terror. Azriel bent to remove the gag, whispering, “Scream, and I’ll gag you with something much more unpleasant than this fabric.”

He ripped it from the male’s mouth, and to his credit, the male said nothing.

“Who sent you?”

“No one. We came with him,” the male tipped his head at one of the bodies. “His brother died, and when they found his body on the battlefield, that bastard’s scent was all over him.”

“Eris’?” Azriel questioned. 

The male nodded. “They were… intimate.” He said it with a snarl, as though Azriel would not know and was being deceived. 

“You wanted to kill him.”

“Yes. For that, yes. It’s not–”

“Enough,” Eris’ voice sounded behind Azriel.

Azriel glared at him. “If it’s enough, kill him yourself.”

Eris shrugged. “Fine.”

The male opened his mouth to start screaming again, but Eris flicked his slender fingers. Azriel stepped back quickly as a reddish glow started emanating from the male’s throat and smoke began to billow from his mouth. 

Eris was burning him. Burning him from the inside out. The light of life in the male’s eyes was steadily replaced by the glow of that slow burning fire until the male was nothing more than ash in the wind.

Eris turned to Azriel. “Thank you for coming.”

Azriel nodded. Why was he so hesitant to leave? The second the male was dead, he should have walked away. Dawn was nearing again. He would need to be back before the High Lord woke in case he had further questions after last night’s debrief. Six years and ten months of this. Azriel wasn’t sure how much more of it he could take.

“Thank you for finding Cassian for me.” 

Eris smiled at that, not even looking as he lit the other two bodies on fire. “You saved my life.”

“You gave me the chance to see him. It had been a long time. It means more than I think you realize.”

Eris shook his head. “I imagine if I had a brother I trusted I would do just about anything in my power to see him.”

Azriel chuckled at that. “No friends among family?”

Eris sighed ruefully. “I’m afraid not.”

“Me neither. Except–”

They finished the sentence together, “my mother.”

“If you didn’t send for me,” Azriel crossed his arms, “Why did you trust I wasn’t there with them?”

Eris tipped his head back to stare at the sky. “My father has railed against your… proclivities in sexual partners. How he knew, I have no idea. I’ve never even heard whispers of you from anywhere else. I knew, if my father was somehow right, your presence was either on orders or to help me. I was willing to bet you wouldn’t kill me for something we share.”

“Beron knows about me?”

“Somehow. I think he had someone tailing you for a time, after Mor.”

Azriel bristled. He had been careful at 19, but apparently not careful enough. It was likely the best explanation. “You have no idea? Truly?”

Eris shrugs. “I was young when he brought it up. The timing seems right. I never put much thought into it.”

“So you assumed I was safe because of that.”

“No,” Eris laughed, quietly, but unmistakably amused. “No, I mostly assumed you were safe because the last time you saved my life you told me not to undo all of your hard work.”

“What happened then?” Azriel was demanding. He felt as though he was truly seeing the Autumn Lord, seeing him open and unguarded for the first time. Maybe now he could get answers.

Eris seemed to be willing to indulge him. “A winter court soldier didn’t realize who I was until I was on my way out of his tent. He tried to kill me.”

“It seems to me like you’re sleeping with the wrong people,” Azriel commented. Eris finally turned to face him, levelling him with a molten stare Azriel found himself drawn into. “And who are the right people?”

“People who have as much to lose as you do.”

“Like you?” Eris challenged. 

Azriel shrugged. “Are you offering?”

Eris smirked, turning to face Azriel. Dawn was growing, and the red light of morning lighting the leaves around him gave him the appearance of a body of molten fire. “If you ever wish to take me to bed, Shadowsinger, show up. I have spells on the glade. It will let me know you’re here.”

Azriel laughed. “Chances are slim, Vanserra.”

“But not zero.” Eris raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms in a slightly mocking reflection of Azriel’s own stance. 

“No.” Azriel admitted. “Not zero.”

[asheurbanipal]

Where were they going without ever knowing the way? Ch. 2

on A03

<<Previous

Summary:

No luggage. No gas in the truck. No memories. Waking up with amnesia in a shack in the desert, our heroes find themselves drifting down the highway with no specific direction in mind. The only thing driving them? We know each other, and know each other well. But how? And why? And what is this feeling that lives in the pit of my stomach when I look at you?

Deadpool/Wolverine

Explicit

Words: ~10k

Chapter 2/2 in series

Content: memory loss, amnesia, trauma, amputation, canon-typical violence, bathtub sex, homophobic slurs

Chapter 2

"We haven't seen you in more than a week," said the man Logan had learned was named Scott. They had some kind of beef. None of them were talking about it, but everyone was clearly aware. The tension was there.

The giant silver dude, Colossus, had pulled their jeep around until it backed up to the SUV, creating areas for everyone to sit. Another woman with white hair had arrived --literally flying in-- that raised a warmer sense of familiarity in his chest. She hadn't given her name, yet, though. She seemed extra pissed at him for whatever bullshit it was they had pulled. 

"Okay, so what was going on the last time you saw us?" Wade asked. This group --the X-men-- had been concerned but prickly with Logan. A sort of familial irritation. For Wade that was amped up to frustrated exasperation. 

"There was an interstellar dragon situation in Moapa Valley," Scott sighed. Logan felt Wade tense in excitement. He shot a hand out and pressed it around the top of Wade's shoulder into the bottom of his throat a little. He caught the message to maybe shut the fuck up for a second. 

"Wade begged to come with," Scott continued. "I told him, 'no.' He said if I let him come, he could show us some ammunition caches out in the desert he knew about. Something from an older merc job that they never cleaned up."

"Oh, fuck I'm a goddamn genius." Wade clapped rapidly in delight. 

"Yeah, unfortunately," Scott agreed. "So I let you come. It was your idea to go to Vegas."

"Hm, that does sound like me," Wade decided. "Oh! I know what Vegas is! That's a good sign, right?"

"It ended up being a terrible idea, so..." Scott turned a small circle with his arms crossed. 

"To be fair, Scott," said Hank McCoy. "I only came on this particular mission to go to Vegas myself. We were going that direction, anyway." Hank --Beast-- had taken a minute to adjust to. Big. Blue. Furry. But somehow this particular brand of weird was acceptable and familiar. He turned to Logan. "I wanted to touch base with a colleague at a research facility near Lake Mead." The new information immediately sorted itself into a lower priority drawer in Logan's brain. 

"Fine," Scott agreed reluctantly. "But you two basically disappeared the instant we got to Vegas. Three days later, you've stolen one of the SUVs off the jet and left Warhead a cryptic message about 'a memory wipe guy.'" He nodded to the girl in yellow, the one that had spoken to them first.

"I told him you'd come home eventually," Warhead said, "be he insisted we try to at least pretend to look for you."

"Because you've both been acting fucking weird lately, so I wasn't sure what bullshit you'd get up to." Scott kicked a rock in the dirt. "Ever since-"

"Don't tell them, Scott."

"Storm?" 

The woman with the white hair --Storm, he now guessed-- moved from her perch on a nearby rock to sidle up to where Logan was sitting on the back of the SUV bumper.

"Let them relearn it themselves," she hissed. "They want to solve their petty squabbles by manipulating their minds, let them earn their memories back." 

"I did something to you didn't I?" Logan asked, cowed under her steely gaze. 

"More what you didn't do. And when you remember, you're going to regret it."

#####

"I'm not getting in that fucking plane. We'll drive back. The tracker is on, isn't it? You won't lose us this time."

"Logan…"

"We'll meet up in Vegas." 

Wade watched from the back of the SUV as Logan argued with the guy wearing the visor. Scott. Scooottt. Name sounded funny in his head and on his tongue. The instant he had suggested everyone get back on the jet, Logan had freaked out. 

Baby boy doesn't like to fly. Put that away in the vault and lock it up. 

Knowing they had a very sexy domestic relationship had changed the way he looked at Logan. That bloom of warmth he had been trying to make sense of was welcome now. He could bathe in it. 

Logan stormed up to the side of the SUV, wrenching it open to hop in the driver's seat. 

"Wade. Finish up whatever and get up here. We're going." 

"Yes, sir, Logan, sir." Wade pulled the SUV hatch down and scrambled through the center opening, unfolding in the front seat. There was a brief cold war with the X-Jeep through the rearview before the other vehicle headed off into the sand. 

"Dicks," Logan said to the reflection of their tail lights. He pressed the keyless ignition and began the process of moving the SUV back to the highway.

"Sounds like they're your best friends." Wade offered his hand across the console of the SUV. Logan took it absently.

Oh, muscle memory. Delightful. 

"And considering you're apparently my partner, I'm getting a stark sense of the company I keep." He squeezed Wade's hand. The sensation rolled up him so nicely he could ignore the half an insult underneath. 

Not like I'm NOT an asshole, from what I can tell. No reason not to accept it. 

"Do you think we're a happy couple?" Wade asked, pushing the conversation in a direction he preferred. 

"According to the pictures…" Logan rumbled a thought across his mouth. "Yes. I think we are. I feel like we are. It feels good."

"What would have happened if visor-boy and the mutant crew hadn't shown up?"

"We'd go to the address on our licenses. I had already been doing the math on the drive to New York."

"No, I meant when we were making out. If they hadn't interrupted." Wade flipped their hands over a few times. 

"I would have fucked you senseless. I was not ready to slow down. It was like a…fugue state."

Oh those asssshoollleeesss.

"I'm glad we got stopped, though." Logan removed his hand to shift the GPS then settled it back. "I would have felt weird about it afterward. Because we're not totally ourselves." 

"I wouldn't have," Wade replied. Logan kept his eyes on the road and didn't speak, but there was a tilt to his head that suggested he was curious to hear the rest of that. It was little realizations like this where he started to see the imprint of their relationship. The fact that he knew how to read Logan's body language. 

"We were both consenting, " Wade continued. "You're hot as hell. And if you fuck like you fight, you are a champion of dicking down. If you deigned to lower yourself to my level, I'd one night stand you in a heartbeat, no questions asked. With the added knowledge that we're already together, I don't really care if I can't remember anything. I'd suck your soul out of your dick even if I had a lobotomy." 

The silence that followed made Wade more and more nervous, Logan's hand tightening around his. When it relaxed, he felt himself breathe again. 

"What do you mean lower myself?" Logan glanced sideways under the shadow of his eyelashes. 

Holy fuck do I actually have to explain this to him? He can't be this stupid.

"Look, I've got a supple ass and a sick rack. This is not up for debate. But this suit's hiding a lot of sins, baby girl. Underneath all this red sexy, is a…mess, basically. No one thought to give me the full scoop on what the fuck is wrong with me, but whatever it was, it turned me into a giant ballsack."

"Wade, I think you're extremely attractive." They had hit a stretch of straight road, and Logan took the risk to chance some hard looks at Wade. 

"I'm sure you got over your initial gag response, at some point, and now you love me because of my inside beauty, but like…come on."

"There's no way I had put up with this from you for any length of time."

"What 'this?'" 

"This self-deprecation thing."

"And there's no way I was totally cool with getting my arm chopped off on the daily, so clearly-"

"So clearly it's something we worked on at some point." Logan squeezed his hand one more time before setting it on the wheel to deal with a rough patch of road.

Oh. I hadn't considered that. 

"What if we just suck?" Wade countered. "And not in the fun way. We're just terrible people who are terrible together?" 

I don't want to believe that. That doesn't feel right at all. It makes me sad. 

"I don't believe that," Logan said.

motherfucker's telepathic

 "I think we're just a little broken, " Logan said. "And we're fixing each other. Slowly. Or at least taping each other back together." His fists went tighter around the wheel. 

"How are you so sure?" Wade asked. 

"I'm not. But the only solid memory I've gotten back is that I love you. So that must be the most important one. I can work from there." 

No wonder I'm in love with this man.

#####

Logan found the cellphones, fully charged, in a secret compartment in the back of the SUV while they were stopped at a travel plaza on the west side of Phoenix, Arizona. Scott had been kind enough to at least inform him that the SUV did, indeed, need to get refueled whenever possible. The solar battery would only run them so far even at the full charge it had built up parked out under the sun. With full nightfall coming on fast, they weren't going to be able to recharge for a while.

They had both gone in to take a piss, and now Wade was taking forever for whatever reason. They had already changed into civilian clothes, so it wasn't a suit issue. It didn't matter. It gave him time to go through their phones by himself. Whatever he had told Wade, a part of him was nervous, still. 

He held the phones in his hand, deciding which to go through, first. Both had unlocked on his face. The pink glitter case with the tiny rainbow charm and an illustrated cat giving the middle finger on the lockscreen was probably Wade's. He sure fucking hoped it was, at least. It felt wrong to go through Wade's stuff without permission, so he started digging through the phone with the black and gray case, first. 

It was less than useful. 

His lock screen was their dog in a little red suit like Wade's. The wallpaper was a picture of him and his maybe-daughter eating cotton candy. Someone else had taken the picture. Maybe Wade?

The rest of the phone was starkly practical. A few basic functional apps, New York Times puzzles, and solitaire. The calendar said that "Puppins" was due for their flea and heartworm meds, so that was a clue on the dog, at least

Scott said they had been acting weird "since-." Since what? He flicked back through the calendar to look for anything that seemed like a big deal. Regular briefings with the X-Men, reminders to take out the trash, lawn care service…

"Dinner?" Logan said to himself as his feet dangled off the back bumper of the SUV. Two months back was an entry in his calendar that didn't look like he made it. It was the phrase "TAKE ME TO DINNER" in all caps with emoji hearts next to it. "Maybe I didn't take him when I was supposed to. Then we fought? Is that what we've been being 'weird since'?"

"You found our phones!?" Wade shouted across the parking lot, drawing everyone's attention as he jogged back to the SUV. He had changed out his red suit for a loose jersey with an X on it, cargo khaki shorts, knee-high socks and sandals. He looked objectively ridiculous, but it matched his overall vibe so perfectly, Logan couldn't imagine him in anything else. He had acquired a baseball cap with a cardinal on it inside the travel stop. 

He hopped up next to Logan in the SUV, pulling out a couple of Ramune soda bottles. He popped the marble at the top then took a swig. Wade just looked down at his forlornly.

"I don't know how to open this," he said to himself quietly. Logan took it from him and went through the process a second time. 

"Then why did you get them?"

"I don't know. I just saw them, was super surprised they had them at a travel stop, then my hand was already reaching for them. I think…I think you like them?" 

"Yeah, they're not bad," Logan said, handing the drink back. Wade took a sip, and his face said he wasn't sure how he felt. "Anyway, here. Phone. I want you to look at a specific date." 

"Absolutely," but the first place Wade went digging was the photo gallery. "Oh I have a whole folder in here marked 'Logan XXX.'"

"Okay, but did I pose for those? Or are they candid? Because I get the feeling-"

"Do you have any sexy pictures of me?" Wade shifted the focus with a snap.

"I didn't look." 

"Can you?" Wade looked across at him, batting his lashless lids. 

"I-okay...sure." He didn't expect there to actually be any. If the conversation from earlier was anything to go by, that little detail wasn't going to make Wade feel good about himself. Delaying it was going to make it worse, though. 

He flicked through the gallery. It wasn't organized, but there wasn't much there to keep track of. Landscapes. Pretty sunsets and cloud formations. A few series of Puppins sleeping in weird positions. His maybe-daughter at various distances. When the first picture of Wade appeared, he gave a little chin nudge into Logan's shoulder. 

It was a video. Wade playing with the dog in the yard, running barefoot through the grass in green and brown camo patterned shorts and a bright pink t-shirt with Dolly Parton on it. His smile was wide, shooting back and forth in the grass before he tossed a tennis ball. The camera followed Puppins chasing the ball. Wade chattered something in the background of the video that the camera didn't pick up, then it ended. 

"Okay, super boring and domestic. Give me something hot and spicy." Wade reached over to scroll through the gallery quicker. "Oh this one's…oh…maybe not."

Wade in a plain colored t-shirt and sweats, feet up on a coffee table, mid-talking to whoever was behind the camera. It was the exact t-shirt Logan was wearing at that very moment. A picture of Wade in his clothes? 

Wade was already moving through the gallery, again, stopping when he saw his face every ten pictures or so.

Wade holding the dog. Wade making stupid faces with his maybe-daughter. Wade and another young Japanese woman making stupid faces at Warhead. Wade with reading glasses focusing extremely hard on a Sudoku book. A video of Wade in his red suit, finessing his swords in a quick circle and giggling. A follow-up video of Wade showing this trick to some preteen boys. A second-follow up video of him showing those same kids how to run some kind of parkour drill in a large room. 

"None of these are sexy," Wade declared. 

"I think we just have vastly different versions of sexy," Logan assured, the warmth that rose in his chest spreading out into his stomach. 

"Whatever." Wade scrunched his nose then went back to his phone. "What date did you want me to look at?" Logan brought his phone over. 

"Here, two weeks ago. Looks like you made a calendar entry." 

Wade hummed and opened his calendar. It was a mess. Reminders and notes and alarms for everything short of breathing. The date in question only had one block on it. 

"It says one year anniversary." Wade waved his phone at Logan gently, then his face changed as he realized what he said. "One year. I can't decide if that's a good amount of time or none at all. Even if I can't remember shit, I feel like I've known you forever." 

Logan pressed through his own thoughts. Wade felt new in his brain. Big but new. Life changing but recent. Maybe that was why they had built a life together so quickly. 

"So, weird question," Logan said, "but I'm wondering if something happened at that dinner. Did we go?" 

"Oh! That should be easy. I'll look at pictures from the date. Since I actually take some." He waggled his eyebrows. "Looks like I might have put it in a folder, even. Look at me. All organized and shit." 

The pictures Wade presented started pretty normal. Them getting ready in their shared bedroom. A few selfies of them in nice clothes. Nothing fancy. Logan was in a sports coat and dark jeans with a cowboy hat. Wade looked smart in khakis, a maroon button up, and cream cardigan, but he didn't look totally comfortable in the outfit. The next few shots were in front of an Italian restaurant of some sort. Only confirmed because Wade took artsy photos of his pasta. But then something had gone wrong. Another selfie on the street on the way somewhere else showed paired looks of concern. 

The next photo was a couple hours later.

A quick shot of Wade with a thumbs up in front of a pile of bodies with Logan in the background, claws out, digging into one last person. Both their outfits were torn and bloody, the splatters implying it wasn't their own. These unknown adversaries were armed to the teeth and dressed in black, so he could only assume they deserved whatever came to them. 

The next picture was Logan throwing back a beer in their house, still a little torn and bloody, an air of broodiness hovering over him. They must have resolved things quickly, because the next photos were very obviously from Wade riding on top of him. Yet somehow not as explicit as they could have been.

"Oh, I am an artist, " Wade decided. 

"So clearly something happened that night," Logan said. "But I think whatever it was started whatever…this…is." He gestured between them. "Scott said we'd been acting weird since some big event. An anniversary seems like the kind of thing that might set off a chain of weirdness."

"Especially if something went really wrong," Wade finished. "Yeah, I hear you, peanut." He looked up and glanced around. "We should stay here in Phoenix tonight." 

"Kinda wanted to drive through."

"To get to Vegas where we got ourselves in trouble the first time. And I know we're both tired. And there's literally a Super 8, like, right over there somewhere according to the cashier." He pointed down the road. 

The problem was Logan couldn't actually disagree with him. He was, indeed, exhausted. And driving this tired was probably dangerous. 

"Alright. Fuck. We'll find somewhere to stay. But not a fuckin' Super 8. I found a black card in my wallet, and I intend to use it if I'm going to have to suffer."

"Yay!"

#####

"There's still time to switch to two queens instead of a king. They probably wouldn't ask any questions."

"What?" Wade asked, then the rest of his brain processed the question as he gazed around the room. "No. No no no no. This is fine." He dropped his bag at the end of the bed. 

"I'm sorry for not confirming with you," Logan said. "Hotel clerk asked what kind of room, and I went into auto-pilot. We must get hotel rooms a lot."

Probably not like this one. Doesn't feel familiar.

The best they could find within spitting distance was a Marriott, but after a night on a cave floor it might as well be a ten-star accommodation. He did another once over of the room, searching under the tables and chairs for…something…It was like a tick. An impulse to check the room for possible security failures. He turned and panicked. Logan was taking off his shirt. 

fuck fuck fuck

Wait….why are you freaking out? You saw him shirtless just a few hours ago.

Calm the fuck down. 

"I assume you'll want a shower. Mind if I go first?" 

"No, go ahead." 

"Okay." Logan paused with his thumbs in the waistband of his jeans. "Are you okay?"

"What do you mean?" Wade tried to lean nonchalantly on the table then jumped back when it tipped underneath him. 

"You're always a little bit distracted, but you seem on edge. Did you remember something?"

"Ah…no…um…I think we hid our cellphones. That maybe we're the ones who put them in that secret compartment." It had started needling at him immediately. Why hide their phones? Why tuck them away like that?

"Who were we hiding them from?"

"Ourselves?"

"Huh…" Logan paced a few steps as he ruminated on the idea. "So we leave our wallets in our bags, phones in the car, then fuck off into the desert?"

"It's a theory," Wade said. 

I don't have any better ones, at the moment.

"Does that make sense?" Logan sat on the bed to think. "Not that I think you're wrong; I'm just trying to find the logic."

"I kind of ruled out being kidnapped pretty early what with the whole…personal armory…thing. Don't think a kidnapper would have left us behind with that."

"Nope, probably not…wait…" He paused to roll a thought over. "We also erased our own memories."

"Shit, you're right, " Wade said. "That's what Glasses said. We 'found the memory wipe guy.' We were looking for this." 

"Why the absolute fuck would we do this to ourselves?" Logan stood from the bed again, crossing his arms over his chest. "It had to be for a reason. A really good one." His pacing got a little faster. 

He's sexy when he's thinking.  

He's sexy when he's breathing, though, so whatever.

Wade watched Logan's form, tracking his every muscle movement. That welling feeling of wanting to bite and gnaw on him kept rising up in his chest and setting his throat on fire. It was so fucking distracting, but it was also raw . Pure in its utter debauchery. He had to believe it was a real thing. 

"You did this." Logan's voice slammed hard against him. 

"Excuse me?" 

"I can tell I've had my memory wiped before. I can feel it. Stacked amnesia. I wouldn't have volunteered to do this again. It must have been your idea." 

Wade moved forward across the room, stood a foot from Logan, chest out and shoulders wide. Trying to be mad but only finding hurt.

"Or maybe since you've been through amnesia before, you thought it was worth it for whatever this…project…is. Or maybe it was my idea, but there's no way I forced you to do it. So you agreed."

"Maybe you strong-armed me. Blackmailed me. Withheld something until I said yes. Like sex." 

What the fuck , dude?

"Do any of those pictures look like a man who would withhold sex? Especially from you ? What the fuck is your problem? You know what no…" 

fuckin' 

Even if it was my idea so what? So fucking what. We're in this together now.

"I'm going to go search the SUV for any more clues," Wade declared. "And you're going to sit and think about what you just said to me.

Fucking ass.

He started toward the door. 

"Fucking ass," he gave as a parting shot. 

The problem was that he couldn't necessarily say that Logan was wrong. Erasing their memories was probably his idea. In their one day together, he could figure out that much. He didn't know if he was a genius or an idiot or that beautiful combination of the two, but he was clearly the schemer. 

Logan was absolutely not the type to be strong-armed into anything he didn't want to do, though. Either he had comfortably agreed with the plan, or Wade had been sufficiently persuasive. So for him to be this accusatory was downright insulting.

And that's something I'm allowed to be mad about, damn it. 

He crawled into the back of the SUV, and started aimlessly throwing panels back, folding and unfolding the seats, looking for any evidence of a hidden pocket. He did uncover a few, but there was little of any importance inside. Two more backpacks of clothes. Another small duffle with extra ammo for a gun he hadn't found in his armory bag. The shotgun that went with the ammo he just found.

The organization of this is all over the place. 

Why do I kind of understand it, though?

I'm absolutely the one who packed this SUV and filled all its hideyholes. 

After an hour of fruitless labor, he dropped breathlessly into the passenger seat, door still open. He unlatched the glovebox. Just the user manual. He closed it again. The latch didn't take and it popped back open again. 

Fuck you.

He tried to close it again, but the manual got in the way this time. 

FUCK YOU. 

He pulled out the book and reared back with the intention of throwing it as hard as possible. Then a piece of paper fell out. Lined notebook paper, folded in half with writing on the outside. "WOLVERINE, READ ME. FROM YOU (WOLVERINE)" 

oh hoh hoh hoh 

I'm absolutely reading this bitch.

Dropping the manual into the driver's seat, he unfolded it carefully, laying it across his lap. Under the dome light, the indents of the blue pen filled the paper with beveled shadows, the other side of the page textured under his fingers. 

Logan, Wade won't look in the glove box, but I know at some point you'll get bored and check the manual for features. You agreed to have your memory erased, but you told him you'd be leaving behind a note. You just didn't tell him where in case he hid it again.

Oh fuck. 

He was super adamant about neither of us knowing anything for this project. You'll understand why, eventually.  Right now, you're freaked out. I know. We've been through this amnesia thing before. It's real shit every time. Don't worry this time IT WILL COME BACK when the serum wears off.

Here Logan had underlined a few times, almost bleeding into the next line. 

I put in some backups for when this goes to shit. The tracker on the SUV will start pinging again, at some point, so the X-Men will find you eventually. So look for a guy with a visor, a giant metal dude, or an attractive black woman with white hair. You can trust them.  YOU CAN TRUST WADE. I can't tell you more, but you would kill and die for this man. More importantly, he would do the same for you. Just get back to Las Vegas and don't freak out.  -Logan   PS. Wade, if you do happen to find this, shut the fuck up.

But then he'd put a little smiley face at the end of the line. Wade let the note sit in his lap for a minute. Had he left a letter like this for himself? He was certain he would have found it, by now. Had Logan found this note already? Was he using that to form his own opinions? Wade had to know. 

Wade practically scrambled through the main door and up the elevator. He almost dropped the keycard but hustled the door open. 

"Logie, I have found the juciest clue!"

……

Logan?

"Kitty cat?" Wade peered around the room, testing the bathroom door. Logan was gone. 

#####

Logan's hands were firmly in his pockets, held tight around a thumb drive. It hadn't been too late for an Uber when he left the hotel, but, depending on how long this took, he might not have the same luck getting all the way across town. He also had the car drop him off about two blocks away from the internet cafe. It wasn't a specific thought that led to that decision. More like something that lived deeper. That had been ingrained in him over a long period of time until it was second nature.

Escaping into the night without telling anyone also felt natural. He hadn't questioned the decision even once. 

He had found the thumb drive in the interior of one of Wade's bags. It had taken seconds, and was mostly an accident. When Wade stormed out, Logan got mad. Mad without a specific focus. Just…mad and sad and annoyed. He picked up all the bags and moved them against the wall, pushing some of his frustration into tossing them against the wall. It was pure accident that one of the bags of clothes made a jingling sound when it banged against the chair leg. One run of his hand along the inside of the bag, and he found the bulge. A quick swipe of his claw along the inner lining, and the pony keychain with the thumb drive attached revealed itself. 

If he had to make a guess, Wade had left some kind of trail of clues. Breadcrumbs. The drive would hold some kind of viable information to bring this all together. He wanted to see it himself, first, though, on his own. Wanted to see what Wade thought was important and convinced himself it was how to make up for saying something so awful.

 The hotel didn't have a business center. A quick Google showed him that "LAN Cafes" were a thing, though, and there was a 24/7 one in Tempe. Logan paid for one of the open computer stations and fumbled through the technology enough to access the drive. 

He found a folder labeled "Our Life-DONT LOOK UNLESS FUCKED" and a solo text document. He clicked on that one first. 

Hey Toad-face-

Ah, this was a note from Wade to Wade. The self-deprecation was immediate and strong. The computer had clearly corrected Wade's writing but hadn't caught everything. 

You have super cancer. You can heal pretty much anything. You can theoretically not die but I haven't fully tested it and NOW IS NOT THE TIME. That's all done The super hot fucker your with is super important and he wont let you die for to long. Promise. Right now you have a bet going so I'm not going to spoil anything. But honey badger said that he would only do this thing if I set a contingency or two. This is that. I used the computer in the business suite at our hotel to make this. Only look at it if something goes to shit and your memory is super fucked.    -XOXO Wade (=˃ᆺ˂=)  

Logan closed out of the document, then drifted the cursor over to the folder. He tapped his finger on the mouse, deciding whether he would open it. 

"Fuck it." 

The folder was full of pictures, and he found himself just skimming, scrubbing through the folder window. He had seen the photos on the phone already. Seen himself through Wade's eyes via camera. He slowed down when he saw another text document. It was full of wall to wall text, no paragraphs. It was hard to read, but he muddled through the rambling, wandering language. 

Wade hadn't fully considered that the man who would be reading this wouldn't have all his memories, so there were jumps in context. Gaps in the lore. They had been through something big together, though. Wade kept referencing The Void. Kept talking about when they "exploded." Referenced multiple universes. Sometimes he slipped into a time clearly before Logan was around. About a woman named Vanessa he seemed to love desperately at one point. Time travel. Despite his insistence in the other document, he might have actually died at one point. At the end was a list of instructions on the best way to reattach a severed limb.

"Buried the info a bit, but we figured it out." He went back to the pictures, and scrolled down to the end. Some of these were newer, taken in Vegas. The images flashed through the preview pane quickly. 

He stopped on the last one. It was a selfie of them in sports coats and jeans standing in the middle of a balloon arc, holding a piece of paper. An official looking document with their names on it, sanctioned by the State of Nevada.

A marriage license. 

Wade found him in the bar. Drinking seemed the best option after what he found, and he wasn't ready to go back to the hotel, yet. He needed to process all his emotions in an environment that felt familiar. He didn't actually know what he liked, though, so he was up to drink number three, landing on a Blue Moon, for now. 

He had no idea how long it would take him to get drunk or if he even could, but he was willing to start the relearning process. 

"Hey," Wade said quietly, sidling up to him at the counter. He set a tablet down in front of them. It was blinking with dots. 

"Is that…tracking us?" Logan scrubbed around on the screen, getting a feel for the environment around them. 

"Yeah, I found it in the SUV. Not sure where the receivers are hidden, though. Maybe shoes?" Wade zoomed out, and another dot appeared way to south of them. "And I think that's another one. Maybe one we left behind somewhere?"

Logan dragged the tablet over and started looking at the streets and nearby landmarks. 

"The AA token that was in my wallet. It was a tracking chip. I threw it in the dirt. Not ruining my sobriety after all." He took a swig in celebration.

"Weird choice," Wade decided. 

"Maybe we couldn't find something better at the last minute and wanted to make sure we could find our wallets. Whatever it is we're doing, I'm not totally sure we thought all the details out. Feels like we kind of half-assed it."

"So you don't think this was my idea, anymore?" Wade tested.

"Nope. Still do." Out of the corner of his eye, Wade's head dipped in melancholy. Logan pulled him in around the waist. "But I'm very sorry for the way I said it. It was unnecessarily mean. I was just…being an asshole. I realized that you were right, and I must have agreed to do it. And if I agreed to do it, it must have been for a good reason." He tucked his face into the halo of Wade's hoodie and spared him a kiss on the cheek. 

They were good and goddamn married after all, right? Right…? 

"This ain't one of the gay bars, boys." The voice crackled from somewhere behind them. 

"Mike, shut the fuck up." A woman's voice hissed at the first as they turned around.

Mike was a decent looking guy in his late twenties. Probably went to the gym a couple times a week. Little bit of stubble. Douchebag haircut. T-shirt from something local and jeans. He had matching wedding rings with the woman next to him who was clutching to his arm in concern. The woman across from him was the one yelling at him. She was paired with a smaller man who looked like he wanted to melt into the floor. 

"Just talking to my husband, bub," Logan said, then started turning back. 

"Husband?" Wade whispered. Logan gave a little headshake that he would explain later. 

"Okay, well maybe you'd be more comfortable doing that somewhere else." Mike was relentless, it would seem. 

"Oh my god, in the year of our Lord Patti Lupone: 2025 is this actual real life homophobia?" Wade cracked his knuckles.

"Wade, calm down. This isn't a barfight kind of establishment." He squeezed Wade's hand for half a moment, working from bone-deep muscle memory. 

"A barfight?" Mike stood up, tottering off his stool. "You fairies want to make this a barfight?"

"MIKE WHAT THE FUCK?" The woman tried to drop down around the table and get to him. Her partner sort of flailed in uncertainty. 

"Mike, honey," his wife tried to reach out to him, but he shook her off.

"Nah, if these fucking fags wanna go, let's go--" 

Wade threw the first and only punch, getting in half a second before Logan could. Mike went down hard, his body making a series of thumps as he hit the floor. He wasn't out, but sitting on the sticky concrete, dazed. Wade was already leaning back against the countertop.

"Honey, your claws." He tapped the blades that had zipped out from Logan's hands. 

"Right." He pulled them back in. He turned to the bartender, a young woman who currently had her hand hovering over a hidden button that would call the police. "Close my tab. We're leaving." He grabbed Wade around the wrist, pulling him out of the room. 

"Give me the keys," Logan barked and Wade obliged. The way he had parked the SUV, the passenger side faced away from the bar and toward a wall. 

He followed Wade around to that side and pressed their bodies together against the car. Logan slammed his lips against Wade's, searching his mouth with his tongue, unsure what he was looking for. His hands crawled around Wade's back and he found his rough skin under his shirt.

The fire he hadn't realized had been building in his chest started to die out into embers. He had just needed to touch Wade. To feel him. To be anchored to the one familiar thing left. He pulled away. 

"Oh that's mean. Don't do that. Come back." Wade clutched at him, trying to pull him back. Logan moved in a little closer as a compromise. 

"Your skin looks the way it does because of 'super cancer,' apparently." Logan said. 

"Who told you this?"

"You did." Logan had printed the shorter text file from the thumb drive and pulled it out of his back pocket. Wade scanned over it. 

"Fuck. Okay. You did the same." Wade pulled a piece of paper from one of his side cargo pockets. Logan immediately recognized his own chicken-stratch writing. "Looks like we made a bet of some sort. Wonder what the wager was?"

"Found something else with the note." Logan looked away, thinking for a moment, deciding if this was the time and place. "It's a picture of us at a chapel with a marriage license. I think we might be married."

Wade's body froze underneath him. 

"No…no no no." 

"Do you not want to be married to me?" Logan asked, trying to push the strange edge of hurt out of his voice. 

"No, I do. I do? I do. That just…scared me. I think…hm…I wasn't ready to hear it…I…I don't know. Just this feeling…" He paused. Then he leaned forward and pecked Logan quickly on the lips, fingers touching Logan's jaw. "Let's go back to the hotel and sleep." He opened the door and climbed inside stiffly. On the other side of the door, Logan stared vaguely through the window, then moved around to the driver's side.

#####

Wade woke up pre-dawn with Logan wrapped around him, face pressed into his back. That wasn't how they went to sleep. 

Married married married married. 

  The idea rumbled in the back of his head. It didn't feel right. Everything else had felt right. This didn't. 

"If you're finally awake, let's get going," Logan murmured into his shoulder. 

"How long have you been up?" Wade asked. 

"A while."

"And you just…laid there? Like this?" Wade patted Logan's arm then turned underneath it to face him. 

"Yeah. It…felt nice." Logan squeezed him around the waist a little. 

"It feels like things are starting to come back. Little stuff. Mostly emotions."

"Yeah. I had a dream about a mini-van, then woke up with a hard-on. I don't know what that means, but it feels like a memory."

"That's a fuck of a memory."

I kinda like it. That's…that's sexy. 

I want to fuck this man SO HARD. 

Why am I so freaked out about marriage if this is how I feel? 

married married married. 

Logan squeezed his ass.

"Let's get going." 

"You're being a lot more affectionate with me, now." Wade kept watching Logan as he, himself, crawled out of bed. 

"Am I? I'm not really thinking about it. Maybe it's those memories coming back?"

"Is it because you think we're married?" Wade asked, keeping a little bit of distance. 

"You don't think we actually are?" 

"Did you see signatures on the license? And we have to file it, right?" 

An out. That's what I need. An out. A place to wiggle through this weird feeling.

"That is a good point that I didn't consider." Logan paused as he pulled his shirt over his head. "Is this something you're ready to talk about, yet?" 

no no no no no.

"No?" Wade tested. Logan nodded then continued pulling his shirt down. 

Why is this starting to feel so…normal? Why is that so scary?

Wade leaned his head against the window watching huge swatches of desert and scrubland pass.

bored bored bored bored

Every time he tried to reach into his brain for something to think about, he felt like he was working through sludge. He flicked on the radio. Country. Gospel. A few preachers screaming about whatever passed for God these days. 

"Oooh, classic rock." Wade let his hands drift back into his lap. Logan turned the volume down slightly. 

"I think the age on my license is a fib." He tapped the panel of the radio. "Because I remember seeing Led Zeppelin live. They played this. But I'm one-hundred percent an adult in my memory. Passing a joint with someone…" Logan stared out through the window, eyes narrowing. "1972. Who would I have been hanging out with in 1972?"

"I'm imagining the world's worst blunt rotation, right now, not gonna lie."

Man, he's old. OLD old. I felt like I knew that because I'm not freaked out by being a graverobber. 

Maybe I'm a gerontophile.

I know the word gerontophile, apparently. Don't think I could spell it, though.

G-e-r….a?

That's not right. 

A small chapel slunk by them in the distance. 

The memory this triggered slushed through his brain like a waterfall over boulders. Sharp and tumultuous and never ending. 

"We fought over getting married. Or being married. Not to each other, just in general. I was engaged at some point, and it went tits up. You apparently can't keep a relationship together at all without someone dying or becoming a super-villain."

"That hurts. Feels like the truth, though, so I guess I can't be mad."

"Right right right. So we decided that maybe we just weren't the marrying type, right now, but we…" Wade fell off. The memory broke here. The pieces of information fell away too far, just the emotions remaining. "Something happened there. We…resolved the marriage idea…but that led to a fight. Or a…a discussion? Raised voices. I think we were drunk."

"Can we get drunk?"

"Maybe high? Oh god, I don't know want to know what kind of drug actually gets us fucked up. Okay let me think."

"....after what we've been through."

"You really don't think it would have happened without…"

"I mean, infinite universes and whatever but…"

"...that spark, though…"

"...Not denying that. Just practical…catalyst…growing through…"

"You make it sound like trauma bonding."

"Maybe it was, at first, but that's fine, right? At this point?"

"Yeah but…"

The voices layered on top of each other. He couldn't tell who was who. He pressed his hands to his ears, trying to hear the voices again, but they slipped away. 

"We got caught in some kind of gang war on our anniversary," Logan said suddenly. "And we had a conversation about what we thought our lives would look like if we weren't fighting all the time. We thought we'd be bored.  And we were…talking to Storm about it while doing drills in the danger room. And she called us emotional masochists, and I said something back and oh…that…didn't go well. I remember that…I don't…remember the rest."

Then it got weird. I remember. Holy shit. 

All the questions we had no idea how to answer. 

If we weren't superheros, would we have anything in common? 

Did we only work so well together because we could both regenerate? 

We were going to live for so so so so so long? What did the rest of our lives look like?

Wade pressed his palms to his ears again, trying to pull up the conversation in his head. Trying to relive it. It was gone, though. All of it. The echo of the information remained, but the memory itself just slipped back into the ether. 

"We need to get to Vegas. This started there." Wade tapped his knuckles on the window. "This isn't fun anymore. 

#####

Vegas lost a lot of its shine pulling into the main drag in the middle of the afternoon. 

"Any of this looking familiar, babe?" Logan asked. The term of endearment sort of slipped out. Muscle memory. 

"There." Wade pointed through the window. "We were in that casino."

"Good enough for me."

Weekday at 2 pm was apparently optimal parking, and they were walking into the front of the casino within ten minutes. 

"Oh fuck, not you again." A security guard was the first to approach them, hand hovering near his gun. 

"No one likes to see us," Wade mused. 

"Considering everything we've remembered, so far, I'm less and less surprised." Logan held up his hands to the guard who still hadn't decided if he was going to shoot, yet. 

"We're just trying to find somebody," Logan said. "Someone we talked to while we were here last." 

"You know how many people come in and out of here?" The guard said. 

"But you remember us," Wade pointed out. 

"Fair," admitted the guard.

"You guys were talking to Dr. Tom." This voice was a young woman in a waitstaff uniform with an empty drink tray tucked under her arm. 

"And where do we find Dr. Tom?" Logan sighed. They were so close to the end of this. This stupid stupid wild goose chase. 

Dr. Tom, apparently, was a plastic surgeon, and worked out of an office not too far off the strip. A little light threat to his secretary got them back in Dr. Tom's office. 

"You can calm the fuck down," Dr. Tom said, gesturing to the chairs in front of his desk. None of them sat, and he gave up trying. "All I did was overhear you two talking about how it would be nice if you could forget for a while. I happened to point you to a friend of mine who happens to offer that service. People like to leave things in Vegas, sometimes."

"So you'll point us to this friend." Logan stepped forward. 

"Fucking yes. Just ask politely I'm not a super-villain, you weirdos. Jesus." Dr. Tom stepped back toward the wall. "But if you're going to go in there snapping out claws, I'm less-inclined to hand over the address. She's a good woman. She's trying to cure Alzheimer's and shit. That's how she figured out her compound. She uses the money she makes for research."

"Oh I hate when the antagonist is actually a good guy," Wade complained. 

"Okay," Logan agreed. "We just want to talk to her." 

This time they had to wait a few hours for her to get off work. They pulled up to a neatly aligned house out in the suburbs and the woman who greeted them, Dr. Charlotte Stone,  invited them freely into her garage. 

"Gentlemen! I'm so happy to see you again. Is it going well?"

"No," Wade said. 

"Surviving," Logan added. 

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that." Charlotte rerolled her hair into a bun and lowered the garage door behind them. "Did you put together letters and leave them in easy to find places?

They hovered weirdly in the center of her garage. Two walls were lab equipment, the third refrigerated storage. A computer station was tucked into the corner nearest the door into the house. 

"We did," Logan confirmed. "But I think we did it wrong. We didn't put in our notes why we did this memory…thing."

"You were trying to settle a bet, I believe, but let me see my notes." She pulled a binder down from a set of half cabinets. "Here we go. Let me pull up your video."

"Wait what? Video?" Wade moved forward, trying to peek over the top of the binder. She handed it over easily. "A lot of shorthand, so I don't know if you can read it."

Wade dropped the binder on the counter. 

"I can barely read, to start. I don't know why I bothered." 

Charlotte had moved to the computer, though, shifting focus. 

"Here you boys, go." She stepped back from the screen, and rotated it to them to see better. 

The video versions of themselves sat in their colored combat suits, bickering over who was going to explain. 

"It was my idea, I'll do it," said Video Wade. 

"Feels weird getting that confirmed," said real life Wade.

"I am convinced that we are soulmates. So in any universe, we would eventually meet and fall in love." Video Wade said.

"No you actually don't," video Logan corrected. "You're just trying to be contrarian." Video Logan turned flush to the camera again. "We've been having this much bigger conversation the past couple of months about the future of our relationship, which we'll --you'll remember again at some point. And I happened to say that I don't think that our relationship would look like it currently does without having gone through the things we went through. I didn't even say we wouldn't be together. Just…it'd be different."

"But you said it while we were in a wedding chapel," Video Wade said. "Feel like that changes the tone."

The screen versions of them bickered some more. 

"From this side of the screen, this argument looks really stupid," Wade said. 

"We look really upset, though," Logan noted. 

"You kind of were," Charlotte confirmed with a grim chuckle. "People only come to me when they think things are insurmountably dire and looking for a new perspective."

The video had started talking to them again, Wade staring down the camera. 

"We decided the only way to know for sure was to start from scratch. Wipe it all out and see what happens." Video Wade tapped the table they were sitting out with a sense of finality. There was a little more chatting, but the video seemed to have delivered all the important information.

"So how did this work?" Logan asked. "We have so many gaps."

"It's a series of liquid capsule pills depending on how much you want to get rid of and for how long. I gave you the first one to make sure you didn't have an immediate adverse reaction, then sent you off with the rest of the doses and instructions. Told you to do it in a safe place under the supervision of some friends. It's supposed to be a slow, gentle process to give you the option to stop at any time if it gets too weird. Guess you might not have…followed directions."

"Yeah, sounds like us," Wade sighed. 

"Okay. What's the plan to reverse it?" Logan shifted on his feet, nervous.

"Oh, it should wear off soon. Probably by tomorrow morning." 

"Thank God, okay. Okay." Logan clapped his hands, rubbing them together. "Then that's it. It's over. All that stress and mystery."

"Yeah." Wade shifted on his own feet. 

"Well did it work?" Charlotte asked.

"What do you mean?" Logan responded. 

"Did you figure out the thing you were looking for? This whole…soul mate thing?"

Logan rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. 

"We uh…we woke up in a shack in the middle of Arizona."

Charlotte made a face at that but let him continue.

"And uh." Logan looked for the words for half a moment. "And I'm pretty certain I, uh…I woke up already in love with him."

"Oh, I know I did," Wade agreed. 

"I told you that might happen. I can wipe experiential life stuff, but the really strong emotional triggers very frequently linger."

"Cool, so we didn't learn anything." Wade shuffled his feet on the raw garage floor. Charlotte shrugged at them. 

"I find that when the memories come back, you figure out whatever you were meant to. Even if it doesn't seem like it, at first." 

#####

"Not that I'm complaining about room service snowcrab, why are we holing up in a hotel with the strip literally right there?" Wade picked a bit of shell out of his teeth, a chip of it sneaking into the leg meat when he cracked it open. 

Logan had found a place to get cigars and was finishing one on the balcony. Evening was bringing more people through, making everything a little louder. A little busier. Logan stamped out the end of his cigar on the railing and came back inside, closing the glass door shut. Everything dropped to a dull thrum again, just the sound of 30 Day Fiance reruns playing in the background on the TV. 

"Charlotte said she couldn't explain all our actions with her pills, so the probably don't work the same for us." Logan wandered restlessly through the room, stopping in the doorway of the ensuite bathroom. "So we're staying put. At least until I can get a hold of Scott and the others."

"Where the fuck did they go? They were supposed to meet us here." 

"Fucking dragon came back or something. I don't know." Logan leaned back against the doorframe even harder. 

He looked so tired . 

Fuck he looks how I feel, so I must be a goddamn mess in comparison. 

Wade swayed up from his hotel lounger and moved across the room. He wrapped his arms around Logan's waist and pressed his face into Logan's chest. Logan returned the affection with his arms gently resting around Wade's hips. 

"Holy fuck, I didn't realize how big this bathtub was when we walked in." Wade pulled free and wandered over to it, sitting on the edge. "Fucking Jacuzzi jets. Holy shit."

Oh, I'm getting in this bitch, right now.

He immediately started moving his hands over the knobs and looking in the cabinets for something to put in the water. 

"Holy fuck they have bathbombs." 

holy fuck glitter

All the rest of his thoughts were just about getting the shrinkwrap open and getting into the water. Soaking in it. Soothing his nerve endings.

Some clothes hit the floor out of the corner of his eye, and he flicked over his shoulder. Logan had shucked off his shirt and was now working on his belt. 

uhhhhhhh?!? 

fuck fuck

Now he was thinking about other things than taking a bath. 

"What?" Logan said when he caught Wade staring. "It's big enough for two. I thought that was the point." 

"No you just went from 'don't fucking touch me' to making out against a car to cuddling to bathing together really really fast. Getting a little whiplash." 

"Sorry." Logan flicked his hands. "I don't know. Things are just starting to feel normal again, so I'm just…I don't know. If you don't-" 

"Oh no. Now that you've started, you better take those fucking pants off." The crown-shaped bath bomb burst in swirls of pink glitter and shimmer. Wade dropped his eyes as Logan got in the water, something too overwhelming about seeing him naked all at once right now. 

His dick has been in my mouth. 

My dick has been in his mouth. 

We've been inside each other in so many different ways. 

calm the fuck down 

His body made the motions  on auto-pilot, stripping off his clothes and sliding into the water. Then through the water to sidle into the space between Logan's thighs. The instant their naked bodies pressed against each other, a year of touch memory flooded his body. 

hands touching, knuckles brushing

blades in my body, me begging for it

pressing inside me, thrusting hard, over and over

his soft, pulsing insides

teeth on flesh and flesh on teeth

"Fuck," Wade whispered, parting his knees around Logan's hips, wrapping his arms around Logan's shoulders so he didn't slide back into the water. 

I'm so hard. Oh god. I've never been this hard in my life.

Wade didn't even ask before slipping his hand down between them and taking both their cocks in his hand. Logan wasn't quite so hard to start, but that changed immediately.

"Wade," Logan cooed into his ear. "This wasn't necessarily the idea when I got in here."

"You don't get to be sexually sanctimonious on me. I can remember some things now. I talk a big game, but you're actually ten times hornier than me." He grabbed Logan's chin in his hand. "And we get the chance to have a first time again. How cool is that?" 

Logan rolled his face into Wade's neck. 

"I'm not saying 'no', I'm saying lean back."

Logan hinged forward, moving Wade into position below him, straddling Wade's lap. His mouth covered his, nipping and gnawing at Wade's lips, tongue flicking over Wade's gums and teeth. 

inside me

inside him

hard against hard, soft against soft, hard against soft

Logan lifted a little, hinging off the bottom of the tub at his knees. His hand came around Wade's cock and he pressed the tip to his entrance. 

"Oh baby girl don't go in raw," Wade gasped. 

"I'll trust the healing factor," Logan growled back, then eased down slowly on Wade's length until he settled at the base. "Okay, that actually hurts a lot more than I expected, you're right." He pressed his forehead to Wade's. "Ah. Okay. Okay. Fuck." He rolled his hips in a small circle, running up and down a half pulse on Wade's cock. "That's better. Okay. Yeah. Ah. That's good."

Logan kissed him again, this time quick and chaste, of all fucking things. 

"How does it feel, Wade?" Logan hissed. "Do I feel good inside?"

"Oh, I think I might die and eject everything from my body if you talk like that again." Wade clenched around Logan's hips and waist, nails digging into his skin and the muscle and fat and tissue underneath. Then Logan properly started moving, shifting up and down on his strong thighs and calves. 

I'm gonna get my memories back just to die from a cardiac arrest. 

"Why did you change your mind? About…about doing this while our memories are shot? About…everything…" Wade had to concentrate on the words, but he needed to say them. He needed to hear it out loud.

Logan whined and panted as he spoke, throat tight over the words, voice sparking at the top every time he dropped down. 

"You said you would fold to a one night stand with me, no question. I imagined the same thing. Meeting you in a bar. You sitting down…hah…next to me. Buying me another round of whatever I was having. You'd probably annoy the shit out of me, at first, but the fact is after a little while I'd probably start thinking you're kind of funny. Kind of…nhg…kind of cute. And if you flirted with me and asked me to go home with you, I would have probably done it. We would have fucked, and it would have been hot. So why hold back, at this point?" 

"So you agree we're soul mates? "

"I agree that we're two horny idiots who can do this to each other without getting hurt." Along the top of the water, he clicked out his blades, jabbed them into Wade's ribs, then pulled back. Wade squealed.

fuck shit fuck fuck. 

It is so fucked up how good that feels.

"So given certain variables, I see us drifting together for some real kinky sex, at minimum. I don't know how the other stuff works, just yet." He gripped Wade around the chin and pulled his face up to kiss him again. "Any other concerns? Because I'd like to keep going without having to think so hard."

"No, I'm…I'm good…" 

Wade's hips started bucking up into Logan, trying to sink even deeper into him as Logan came down. The water sloshed out of the tub, swirling around their conjoined bodies and swishing into the in between spaces in a constant rhythm. He grasped for Logan's cock and started hurried, desperate strokes. 

"Slow down, baby. I wanna come together." Logan buried his face into the side of Wade's head. 

This feels…feels….feels…

…different…

soft and hard, hard and soft

They didn't normally do it like this. He could feel the shape of that. That weird combination of familiarity and novelty. His muscle memory wasn't kicking in, so he was falling back on intuition and guesswork and being an adult with, presumably, at least an ounce of sexual experience. 

He spread his free around the outside of Logan's ass, willing him to sink lower, to bury Wade deeper inside. Logan sensed the desire and somehow got his body to drop even farther, to open even more for Wade. 

The orgasm almost snuck up on him, the heat and weight of the water distracting all his other never endings. He started stroking Logan again, taking to a speed he somehow knew would bring him there. Logan arched forward, hands gripping the edge of the tub on either side of Wade's head. His hips moved from a pulse to a grind. Wade moved faster. 

Wade came hard inside, pulling from the tops of his aching feet and toes and clenching his teeth.

fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

Logan let out a guttural howl. Then there was a sharp metal sound that clanked against porcelain. The sidewall of the tub collapsed against Wade's shoulders. 

"Fuck." The plug was to his left, and he slammed the switch open to drain the tub. He sat up, still inside, bringing Logan along with a hand around his back. Logan's claws were still out. Wade touched them. 

"Peanut. The claws."

"Right, yeah." Logan, however, was staring at the backside of the tub. "I didn't totally break it. It's still containing the water." Logan dropped his arms around Wade's shoulders. "That was fast on the draw for the plug."

"I have a sneaking suspicion this has happened before." 

"Hm." Logan trailed his fingers up and down Wade's spine. "Wanna go again?"

"Five minutes. Then I'm bottom this time. So get ready for me to be as bratty as possible."

#####

"Loooooooooogan." It was mid-morning. His boyfriend's voice was in his ear. His boyfriend's teeth were nipping at his skin. His boyfriend's hand was on his chest, now it was sliding down his stomach. 

"I'm spent, babe," Logan said. 

"I know, honey-suckle just trying to get your attention." Wade rolled on top of him, hooking his leg over Logan's hip. "We're not married. The license you found was, like…a gag gift. A souvenir. We never actually had them send it to the registrar..

"Yeah, I remembered while your mouth was around my dick." 

Wade gently tossed his phone across to the other side of the bed.

"I found the text thread where I was pranking Laura with it." 

"I don't think you ever showed me what she said.

"She said she was going to call me 'step-daddy' in a way that made everyone around us as uncomfortable as possible." Wade rubbed his forehead against his chest. 

"That's my girl," Logan chuckled. "Haven't remembered why we were in Arizona, yet, though."

"Yeah. See. So I actually remember that pretty well, now. Um. I had the idea that we should be completely and totally away from anyone and anything we knew when we finished the memory wipe. I knew about a safehouse outside Ajo from my pre-cancer merc days. We just didn't make it, I think. Saying it back, though, I'm not following my own logic."

"Yeah, I have a memory of watching you snort a line of cocaine, but me not stopping you. So I think something about that first pill she gave us really fucked us up."

"Yeah, I'm remembering mostly everything, but there's about three days where the timeline just isn't…it just isn't, you know what I mean?" 

"I think we're going to have to accept that some stuff isn't going to come back." 

"I'm fine with that. All the important stuff did." Wade rested his face into the crook of Logan's neck. "So…how are we feeling? Now that we know why we did this?"

"I feel like we're idiots," Logan replied. 

"Yeah…I actually do feel…extremely dumb holy shit Charlotte was right. I'm having such extreme clarity about everything. It's like going on an ayahuasca trip but worse, somehow."

Logan rolled over and pressed Wade into the mattress. He propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at him. Wade stared up through his eyelashes up at him. Logan wrapped his hand around Wade's side. 

"I think it's going to be a very long time before we retire from being badasses and have to worry about not having anything in common. So we can wait to worry about that then."

"Oh, you're assuming we'll still be together when we're old and decrepit ugly."

"I intend to be handsome 'til I die, so whatever you want to do is up to you." Logan pressed his lips to Wade's forehead. "But I know for a fact I'm having too much fun to voluntarily stop this any time soon. So unless you die on me…"

Wade lifted up and pecked him on the lips. 

"Which we both know is extremely difficult. So, yeah, no. You're going to be stuck with me forever. Sucks to be you."

"Sucks to be me." Logan dropped down to lie on top of Wade, tucking his arms underneath him. Wade's arm came up around his back and he scratched his nails across Logan's skin.

"You know, we could leave Las Vegas properly married. Just make the appointment."

"Nah," Logan replied. "When we get married I want to do it properly. I want to remember everything."

"Hm." Wade replied, humming low and deep. 

#####

When we get married. Not if. When. 

when when when when when when

When.   

[demigodickrider]

indefinitely, forever ☆ okkotsu yuuta! [2/3]

okkotsu yuuta (post shibuya) x fem!reader click here for: part one | part two | part three - no spoilers from the manga, dwdw ;) - alternative universe where yuuta is an SCP? - [18+] three-part series, 10k+ words in total

(note: not proofread, expect grammar mistakes) warning: contains descriptions of blood, yuuta is a bit OOC/has that gojo satoru influence, romance, happy ending but contains slight angst and comfort, 2nd person pov, reader swears like a sailor

Nanami and Maki were nowhere to be seen, probably being told to retreat back into their offices for further discussion.

All eyes were on you however, being flailed around like a ragdoll in Rika's hand as she continues her slaughter. You could tell just how much the pair were enjoying this; the bloodshed had the walls painted in complete red. A stark contrast to the bland whiteness of the facility. You couldn't bear to watch as screams erupted all around you, silenced once Rika descends her attack on them, which had somehow grown more destructive over time.

"Where now?"

You point weakly at the hall to the left. Fuck the Foundation for designing their buildings akin to mazes. It left you bedridden and sick the first night you had to memorize their layout. But it felt worth it now, the three of you trudging forward and towards the exit with no difficulty.

"Elevator. Push the down button."

"Not up?"

"That's a secret alert button," Secrets spew out of your mouth like a waterfall. Nothing really mattered now that you're siding with evil. "Don't press that or we're fucked."

Yuta does as you told him to.

Now's a matter of defending yourselves before it arrives.

Rika sets you down on the ground, a low rumble emitting from her throat. Your knees felt weak like jelly, but you manage. Rika disappears back into Yuta's body without a trace, leaving the two of you alone. Now you both look human more than ever, but the blood tainting your clothing had a lot of convincing to do if you were to try and prove so.

Your ears pick up on the hurried footsteps approaching near, and Yuta readies his katana. The figures come closer, light behind them casting a familiar silhouette over two individuals holstering weapons-

"Wait! Those are my friends."

Yuta lowers the weapon slightly.

They slow down, coming to a stop.

Maki's eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets, seeing that you were in the hands of Rika. Nanami looked beyond frustrated. "Let her go, or we'll have no choice but to neutralize you."

"Wait, you guys. This isn't-"

Yuta cuts you, "I don't want to."

"Can't you at least let me talk to them?"

"What's going on?" Maki's gaze drifts between the two of you, suspicion lingering in the air. "Are you two working together? Seriously, get your head out of the gutter! If you're working with him just because you almost saw him naked-"

"Huh-"

"That has nothing to do with this!" You protest, your ears burning from the sudden accusation. "Listen to me, alright?"

"I'm listening." Nanami's spectacles glint under the light menacingly, weapon in hand. You've worked with him long enough to know that he'd most likely believe in reason than what's shown up front. Yet you were at a loss for words to even explain the absurdity of your situation: how would you tell them that you were coerced into this? The blood on their hands was as much the same as on yours; you lead them out all the way here. Despite wanting to do what's right, you chose to be selfish and instead helped the pair of anomalies.

You were the one who chose to betray the Foundation.

You're just as guilty as Yuta is. No less, no more.

"I... He broke out of his cell and..." Before you could finish, the elevator has reached your level. The metal doors open. "Nanami, Maki, I-"

Yuta pats your shoulder, "We need to go. Now."

"But-"

"Now." And there's that same dead-eyed look again, replacing any friendliness you had shared. You swallowed thickly, nodding at his command, knowing very well that the only two people you cared for are now no longer trusting of you.

Your nails dig deep into the palm of your hands when you had to turn your back on them. Yuta waits for you to enter then presses it close, noting how your friends stood aghast without firing their weapons.

It seems that they, too, have chosen to be just as guilty as you are.

...

"Are you okay?" Yuta's soft voice brought you back to reality. You were no longer back at the facility but rather in the comfort of your own home. Yuta had no clue about the city, finding himself displaced from the hometown he had been used to. You were lucky enough that you had just moved into a new residential area no one knew, an hour away from the underground base.

You had no energy to fight with the criminal sitting in front of you. He sat with both legs crossed, watching the snow trickle outside. He's wearing an oversized sweater of yours that had somehow fit perfectly on him. Droplets of water cascade down the side of his cheeks from his damp hair, no longer retaining its slicked down shape.

"Obviously not." You reply snarkily.

Yuta shifts away from the magical sight and onto your tired face. Your cheeks flush red and your pants were loose. Somehow you've lost even more weight prior to getting the job. You put your head in your hands, wanting to cry, yet finding the energy to do so was futile.

He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable at your sorrow.

"I'm sorry."

Hearing him apologize drove you mad.

"Say sorry one more time and I'm kicking you out."

He zips his lips shut, choosing to avert his focus on the falling snow again. It's December this time around, mid-winter. He'd lost count of the days he spent in the military looking up at high ceilings made of concrete at night, with little to no light. They had always treated him so unkindly; so inhumanely; leaving him to sleep on the floor like an animal and locking him up until it was time to leave for a mission. At least he had a bed during his time in the facility.

He hears a sniffle from you and scoots closer. There's this instinct he has that tells him to hold you close- maybe even give you a reassuring hug- but he's not so sure. He knows, clearly, that he's the cause of your demise and that he had just screwed your life over completely; but the Foundation would keep things discreet about the damage and betrayal you've caused. There's a benefit to working in secrecy, he supposes. So he does the next best thing he could think of:

"Are you hungry?"

His words made your stomach complain. All day you were merely surviving off coffee and stale breadsticks from the staff kitchen; some days you even forgot to eat from how tired you were.

You glare at him between the cracks of your fingers.

"Okay." Yuta gets up and walks over to the kitchen. Despite his isolation from the outside world, he had gotten pretty skilled in cooking. Having Rika around was tenacious as she always preferred eating meat raw; but tendencies are simply tendencies and when Rika isn't around, Yuta preferred cooking for himself.

You wiped your tears off with the paws of your sweater. It's December, just a little over two weeks left before Christmas. Just yesterday you were planning with Maki to go on a trip, but now...

Now you can't even use your phone in case you were tracked.

Hot tears spill from the corners of your eyes as you broke down once again, this time in a fit. Whatever exhaustion that had piled up pushed you to the very edge. For weeks you've been dreading going to work, only staying for the paycheck and for your friends. Hell, you had to convince yourself that you had a crush on one of the guys in the lounge just so you could continue going.

Maybe this was a sign that you should've quitted earlier.

Your logic battles with your conscience.

It's clearly Yuta's fault, so why are you beating yourself up?

Grief turns to anger as you stood from your seat and stomp angrily towards the man poking around in your fridge. There's an array of wilted vegetables across the counter. The thought of grocery shopping crossed your mind for a brief while; then it was overpowered by the sheer emotion of wanting to strangle the source of your troubles: fucking Yuta Okkotsu and his damned pet monster.

"Dinner's not ready yet- urhmp!"

You take him by the collar and slam him onto the counter. You earn a high-pitched yelp from the man once you punch him, this time not missing; right in his fucking face. Yuta groans in pain, a purple bruise forming on his cheek. The imprints of your knuckles fade slowly from his pale skin, and he winces as you pulled him back up by the collar. Your left hand takes the win yet again as you slap him hard across his face- so hard that stars burst within his vision. You were surprised to find that Rika hadn't come out and attacked you yet for what you did to him.

"Aren't you sorry for what you did to me?"

His eyebrows knit together, arms limp on his sides. "I'm sorry."

"You think that's fucking enough?" Your words come out harsh through gritted teeth. Yuta exhales, both hands coming up to grip your wrists firmly and forcing them off his collar.

"No, it isn't. I know that."

"I'll fucking kill you one day."

"No, you can't. You know that."

You try to budge your hands away from his grip to no avail. His hands are just as cold as you remember them. His eyes fail to mask his worry when he saw your bruised knuckles and the cuts on your arm. He had forgotten just how fragile you were compared to him, a supernatural human with a stupidly OP alien slash monster slash creature by his side to almost always heal him without actively seeking for it. You were human; as dainty as a dandelion; a single blow by his hand and you'd be crushed in an instant.

Despite being roughed up, Yuta made sure to be extra gentle handling you. To make sure you wouldn't break at his touch.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"Fuck off. Don't pretend like you give a shit about me."

He says nothing, hands moving up to cover over yours in spite of what you said. While you may not be physically strong, you've formulated your vocabulary enough to hurt like shards of broken glass. The room falls into temporary solace as he heals you.

"Listen. I'm really sorry."

The purple on your knuckles slowly started to fade, and the stinging subsided. "I don't give a shit, Yuta. You ruined my life and I'm not forgiving you for as long as you live."

"Then can I show you just how sorry I am?"

"And how would you do that? You think you're gonna win my heart over by some cooking?" You grit your teeth in pain when he massages over the sore knuckles that were just healed.

"I'll earn it however you want me to."

"Huh?"

Yuta's fingers glide over the cuts and bruises on your arm, counting them. "Whatever it takes for you to forgive me, I'll do it. I don't want to become estranged to you."

There's this weird feeling in your chest that's telling you to slap him again. But you hold back, mulling his words over and over. Whatever it takes, he says? You could practically use him however you wanted to for your own personal gain. With those looks of his, you could turn him into a runaway model and have all the money for yourself. The gears of business turned into your head. You could have him clean your house everyday, tell him to get a job, and live burden-free for the rest of your life. Having Rika would be an extra plus for security.

But wait a damn minute; estranged? You've just met him today and you're both acting like lovers living underneath the same roof.

He must've caught this realization of yours with the odd way he looks down at your hand, then at his, then back to your face. Yuta feels a little self-conscious, "Um, what? Is there something on my face?"

Hey hey, wait. Doesn't he look a little cute?

You raise a hand and slap yourself.

"Huh- are you okay?!"

"If I don't kill you, then I'll kill myself."

"Oh heavens, no. Please don't do that." Yuta slips his fingers in yours without much thought, pulling you closer to him. "Just breathe. Breathe in slowly, then out. This... this isn't worth that much to die for, alright? I'll help you find another job. I won't be much of a burden to you anymore since I'll move out soon, so please don't-"

He smells so much like the vanilla shampoo you love.

"Yuta." You cut his rambling off.

The poor boy is shaking with anxiety. Whatever deadly facade he had on just a few hours ago had evaporated along with your sadness, "Y-Yeah?"

"Do you realize just how absurd we are right now?"

"What do you mean?" He blinks innocently.

"This... whatever you're doing to me."

He rakes his eyes on you- head to toe, then back up to you. "The healing? It's Rika's powers and not mine."

"No. I mean, the situation that we're in right now."

"...That I killed people and that we're on the run?"

"No. It's how close we are together."

Yuta's face turns pink at the realization, "Oh, uh. Sorry, I..." Your hands and his untangle. It's hard to believe that this was the same man that hunted you down akin a predator to its prey; his eyes that once held no regard for human life are now shaking from your intense query. He deftly looks away from you to the side instead, putting his arms behind his back. He wants to curl into a ball and melt into a puddle; his very own innocence had chipped away the walls he had once built to keep emotions at an arm's length away.

Yuta's heart stutters, like a teenage boy with a crush.

"You know... if you like touching me so much all you gotta do is ask." Something else swells within you seeing him vulnerable like that. A deadly man with a deadly SCP no doubt; but worked up just because you reminded him of his proximity? It was your turn to tease him.

"I... Why do you say it like that?"

"Then why do you keep touching me?"

His eyes meet yours, "Because I need to heal you?"

"I don't believe you."

"Would you rather I touch you in a different way, then?" Yuta asks, dipping his head closer to you. The air changes in a split second, and you feel hotter than you should be in early December.

"...Huh?"

He mimics your words with a befitting smile, "If you want me to touch you so much, all you gotta do is ask..."

You felt like you were going to explode.

From tension or embarrassment, you don't know.

"Fuck you, Yuta."

You mock him.

Yuta chuckles,

"Sure."

Your eyes widen when he puts a hand behind your head, leaning closer to kiss you softly on the lips.

Time had somehow stopped for the two of you, the snow outside halting in their descent. His usually cold fingers had turned warm, resting nicely on the crook of your neck. His lips were plush soft against yours. His other hand cups your face, thumb stroking your cheek slowly with the kind of affection you've never felt before.

This was personal.

This was intimate.

This has got to be some kind of fucked up love.

He pulls back abruptly, guilt pooling in his eyes. "I'm sorry-"

Yeah, it has to be.

It must be with the way you responded back to him just as hungrily when he tore apart from you. Your hands grasp desperately at the clothing you lent to him, smelling so sweetly of your strawberry scented fabric softener, as if he was going to crumble to dust in your arms. It must be in the way your eyes flutter to a close, devoting all trust in a man you barely knew. It must be in the way his touches kindle a fire in you, raising the hair on your arms and back, how your body eases into the warmth his body emits. It must be how you yearn for his touch despite knowing him so briefly; as if you had known each other forever. It must be in the way his lips fit so perfectly on yours, cherry red on Merlot wine, drunken in each other.

It must be, it must be, it must be.

It must be some kind of fucked up destiny.

His hands travel down to your waist, holding you in place. Yuta loved touching; but especially touching you now, after having just realized how devoid of love he truly was. Regarded as viler than human all his years, pent-up frustration had him abandoning his emotions; his only saving grace of ever being considered human.

But in your arms, he felt human.

Each kiss lasted longer than the last. Outside, the world had turned a shade of dark only the moon can light up. You both finally break apart, catching your breaths. You notice the pinkish hue dusting his bruised cheeks and he notices the shy smile on your lips.

"Yuta... my legs."

"I got you," Yuta mumbles softly, carefully switching your positions and placing you on top of the counter. Now he's the one looking up at you, his lips a shade redder than before and the most lovesick gaze in his eyes you've ever seen. "You look so pretty when you smile."

You blush, "See, that's my first kiss you took."

"I thought the floor took your first?"

You smack him lightly, "Don't bring that up!"

He chuckles at the memory.

"I'm sorry that I punched you. Does it still hurt?" In the back of your mind you shot yourself for casting your pride aside, but you had to. He had kissed all the hatred you had for him away.

"Don't be." He rubs his cheeks, "I can heal myself, I deserved it."

"Yeah you know what, you're right. You do."

--------------------------------------------------------------> part 3 (smut)

[moonlight-prose]

BADLANDS | FOUR

a/n: i fucking jinxed it. for some reason i lost inspo for this man, but out of nowhere it came back full force. so i'm churning out what i can before it ducks back into it's hiding spot again. in my head there's three more chapters after this. so we're nearing the end! for this one i'm taking it back and finally revealing what happened that night.

summary: love confessions and whiskey always made for a bad combination. similar to you and rooster.

word count: 10k+

pairing: bradley "rooster" bradshaw x fem!reader (callsign panther)

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED, cussing, a heaping amount of angst, alcohol consumption, fighting, arguing, rough sex, p in v sex, cum eating, a tad bit of humiliation (not really), confessions.

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THE HARD DECK; FIGHTERTOWN

You heard her enter before you saw her. The furious stomp of her boots against the hardwood floor and the clatter of her helmet against the bar echoed in the empty building. Penny had left an hour ago, entrusting you with the keys and a warning to not destroy her bar. A promise you intended to keep by the end of the night.

However it seemed to you that Phoenix had other plans.

If you focused, you bet you would be able to feel the anger radiating off of her. You wouldn’t even be able to blame her. Not with the news of different missions people were going on that had been spreading through the base like wildfire all day. You still couldn’t believe it yourself. Hell, you were half positive that you weren’t actually sitting at this bar the night before you were meant to ship out.

Graduation was a day ago, you were all readying your plans for missions on opposite ends of the world and yet there you were…waiting. You figured she’d come and find you eventually after figuring out your plans. Shit the only reason you were drinking so heavily tonight was to prepare for the inevitable argument that was on the horizon. Just like the sun would in the morning, it began to peek its head out the longer you left her there in silence. Stewing in her anger—in your betrayal.

“What the fuck Panther.”

You winced, the ire in her tone enough to slice through your like a sharp blade. “I guess you heard,” you sighed, downing the last of the whiskey in your glass.

“No shit I heard.” She took the stool beside you, snatching the bottle off the bar and drinking from the top. “How could you do this to me?”

“Phoenix—”

“Shut up for a second would you?” She only spoke like this when you managed to royally piss her off and in a case such as this one, you figured you were better off listening to her than pushing your luck. “I counted on us flying together on the next mission. That's why I agreed to it. You’re why I agreed. You’re one of the only people I trust up there to have my back and all of a sudden you aren’t going to be there.”

Sighing, you felt the familiar twinge in your chest give way to the hot burn of guilt that stewed in your stomach. Making the choice had never been an easy one. In fact, you were fully intent on leaving before anyone could officially find out. Except you were never a coward. No, you were taught to face the consequences of your choices head on, and like a soldier, you did exactly that. You stayed to explain, to let her know that you had to do this—for your own sake.

“I just want to know why,” she said, the anger dissipating slowly.

Finally…you turned to face her, the shine in your eyes evident even in the lowlights of the bar. “I…I don’t know.”

“Bullshit.” She stood up, heading behind the bar and grabbing another bottle, making sure to tuck what cash she had in the empty space. “You know exactly why. So tell me. I want a reason.”

“I—”

She smiled even though it never quite reached her eyes. You knew choosing to go a completely different path would eventually lead you here. This part was inevitable. It always had been. Somehow facing her had become the most terrifying part of making this choice. While the others had said their goodbyes with smiles on their faces and ambition in their eyes, you were halfway to breaking on the inside. Goodbye for you really meant goodbye. 

At least for a long time.

“I’m not cut out for the Navy Phoenix.” You shook your head at the sight of her mouth opening. “We both know I didn’t join by the pure desire to fly like you and the others. I just…there’s always been a hole in me and no matter what I did I couldn’t fill it. Being up there for some reason…it fills that hole. At least somewhat. But I can’t do large missions yet. Not until I realize that this is actually what I want to do for the rest of my life, because once I make that choice it’s final.”

Phoenix fell silent, her eyes watching you with a look that you’d only seen her wear once before. The day you met you beat her in training. Getting to the end of the course faster than she’d ever seen and by the time you go out, she was there waiting to introduce herself. A look of disbelief on her face, but an awestruck glint in her eyes. She’d made it known that if there was anyone better than her it was you. The pilot who flew as if you had nothing else to lose.

The fearless Panther.

“You always did know what you wanted out of life,” she finally said, pouring herself another glass.

“I wouldn’t call me acting like a chicken shit knowing what I want.” She scoffed, downing her glass as if it was a shot of water. “So you’re not mad?”

Before you left tonight for a different part of the country, you needed that clarification. Everything else could go wrong for you, but Phoenix never forgiving you was the one thing you couldn’t bear. Sure, you were her wingman, her ally in the skies, but above all that you were her friend. It was a friendship you couldn’t let go of. One that you’d clutch on to as tightly as humanly possible.

She sighed, raising her head to meet your desperate gaze. “I’m not mad Panther. I just wish you gave me a heads up.”

“I’ll do that next time.”

“What makes you think there will be a next time huh?”

Now it was your turn to smile, the weight of your guilt lifting off your shoulders. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“I can try,” she mumbled, laughing into her glass as you shoved her.

“Bullshit you can try. Whether you like it or not I’m stuck to you like glue Phoenix.” You raised your glass, feeling the warmth of the alcohol set into your veins like a fire not yet coming to full fruition. “Till we crash and burn in?”

She shook her head. “You know everyone would hate hearing us use that phrase.”

“Oh come on.” You nudged her again, knowing that no matter what she’d repeat it back. It was a dark outlook on the reality of being a pilot, but somehow you managed to twist into something lighthearted. A reminder that no matter what happened…you were with her till the end.

Raising her glass, she smiled and for the first time in the night it finally reached her eyes. “Till we crash and burn in.”

The whiskey burned on the way down, probably a sign of you having one too many, but you found comfort in the pain. You smiled at the sight of her wincing, knowing that no matter how tough she really was, she still caved at the sight of whiskey. As much as you wanted to push away the reality of this moment, you couldn’t. Nights like this wouldn’t happen very often for the two of you after today. You wouldn’t be able to simply spend time with your best friend, because she’d be off doing what she always planned to do and you were supposed to go with her.

Yet you knew that the path you were veering towards always had your name on it.

“I’m going to miss you,” you said, leaning your head against the palm of your hand.

Her smile as much as you wanted it to remain happy, turned sad—the realization settling in her mind as well. “I’m going to miss you too,” she whispered, reaching for your hand.

“One more drink?” You wanted her to stay longer, to prolong this goodbye until the sun came up and there was no more time left. She had to be up early to follow the mission parameters and you had to close up the bar for Penny. One final goodbye to the place you’d spent your years in—a place you called home.

“I would, but…”

“Right.”

Another smile crossed your lips as you fought back the tears that stung your eyes. You weren’t emotional by nature, choosing instead to hold everything back from the world around you. But every now and then you couldn’t reign them in. Sometimes the emotions were too much for even you to bear, but you didn’t mind tonight. Not when she was in a similar state. She dragged you in for a hug that would have to last you until you saw her again.

Neither of you knew when that would be. There was no definitive answer. Perhaps that was the worst part of letting her leave on a mission that could very well be life or death. You didn’t know if you’d see her in a few months or in a few years. Or maybe tonight was it for the both of you. Although that was a future you desperately wished would never come true. Nonetheless it still hung over you like a storm cloud, waiting for that one day when rain would be forecasted and grief would spill out from the skies.

“Take care of yourself,” you breathed, clutching her tight until the very last possible second.

“You too Panther,” she replied, her voice thick with emotion.

Pulling away she dropped a small piece of paper in front of you, her name and next location scribbled down just in case you needed to reach her. Legally you weren’t allowed to disclose information like this, but for Phoenix friends always came before legal shit. It worked the same with you. Keeping track of one another kept you sane, kept you from letting the isolation get to you.

You thanked her for this amount of information, watching as she walked towards the door and left without looking back. Once again the place felt hollow—a mere memory of days gone past. Of staying out too late and laughing until it hurt to breathe. You looked around at the emptiness of it all. The rows and rows of pictures that hung on one wall and the lonesome piano in the center of the room. Even though you were here for a reason seeing the instrument so quiet still pained you—his fingers usually bringing it to life.

Sitting on the creaky old piano bench, you saw all those night flash in your mind. All the times he brought the bar to life with just a few notes.

As if he could hear your thoughts, the bar doors swung open, footsteps walking slowly across the wooden floor. You knew the cadence of his walk, the echo of his boots and if you didn’t hate one another you would have smiled. Still you didn’t turn to look at him, choosing instead to focus your attention on the sunset that turned the sky orange outside. A magnificent sight for one last night. Nature was giving you one last farewell until you returned once more, coming back home.

“Did you see Phoenix?” You spoke up, trying to appease some of the tension between you two.

Graduation was awkward. Seeing him in his dress whites, his eyes glowing with a joy you’d only ever seen him have once before. The sight made your heart leap in your chest, the feelings you kept buried suddenly peeking their head out again. Yet unlike every other time where you shoved them back down, you allowed them to fester. To take up space in your chest and remind you who your heart truly belonged to.

So when he asked to meet you here…you didn’t say no this time.

“Yeah,” he coughed. “She wished me luck.”

That made you smile briefly. No matter how many times you and Bradley fought, she always played the peacekeeper—standing by both your sides until the very end. If only she’d known how you felt, maybe you wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place.

Getting up from the bench, you finally turned to look at him, the nerves thrumming consistently beneath your skin. You were terrified of this moment, of when time ran out and you had to come to terms with the truth. But then you looked at him and all that worry, all that grief washed away as you took him in.

He wore his service khakis, his hair mussed from pushing his hands through it and an anxious glint in his eyes. He looked at you like a puppy asking for forgiveness. A man who was tired of war, who simply yearned for peace.

“Hi,” you said, a small smile flashing across your lips.

“Hi.” He exhaled, laughing as he watched you head towards the bar. Your glass, still beside the half empty bottle of whiskey.

He took the stool beside you. “I thought I’d find you here kitten.”

The playful nature he usually donned when around you started to come back, slipping into his stance, his smile. None of it helped you appease the racing of your heart. In fact it only made it worse the longer you sat beside him, able to feel the warmth of his body practically press into yours. He caused your mind to reel just by being near you and you weren’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing yet.

“You told me to come here.” You didn’t want to say it, but he looked almost…bashful. “Why…did you ask me here, Bradshaw?”

He poured himself a glass, allowing the silence to build between the two of you until neither of you could take it anymore. “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got all night.”

Taking a deep breath, he took a sip before meeting your eyes. “I know we’ve graduated and you and I have done nothing but try and kill each other—”

“That’s an understatement.”

He shook his head. “Well, I’m here calling a truce.”

“Where’s your white flag?” you asked, pushing his buttons as much as you could one last time. Teasing, pushing and pulling until there was nothing left was the nature of your relationship—it’s how you figured tonight would go. 

Until time ran out.

“If you wanted my shirt kitten all you had to do was ask.” He smiled, his eyes taking in every detail, every minute reaction you had to his words. You saw him catch the way you inhaled a bit deeper, how your eyes shifted to catch a glimpse of the white fabric that peeked beneath his uniform.

Clearing your throat, you tore yourself away, once again focusing on the amber liquid that was slowly turning your mind hazy. “What else were you going to say?”

“Right…” You weren’t sure how much more of this waiting you could take—the restlessness of sitting so close yet so far apart now getting to you. “We’ve done nothing but try to kill each other but…”

“But?” Fuck, you hoped what you thought he was going to say next actually came out of his mouth.

Sucking in a breath, he set the glass down on the bartop. “I want to be with you,” he blurted out and time ceased to exist.

His face turned red when he caught you staring at him with your eyes wide. There was no doubt that you wore an expression of utter disbelief on your face. You felt your heart swell as your hands began to shake, but words continued to evade you. What the fuck do you say when the man you’d been fighting with confessed he wanted the opposite? You tried to come up with something—any small word to say—but you were pretty sure your brain stopped working five seconds ago.

Luckily for you, he wasn’t out of words. “I…I care about you kitten. Fuck I don’t know if it’s love or if it’s just some crush, but…I know I want you.”

Your throat felt dry as you tried to swallow, his words sinking into your mind. “You…”

“Yes,” he replied.

“And what if…” You could barely get the fucking words out. “What if this—” You gestured between the both of you, your hands shaking slightly. “—is just an itch that needs to be scratched to get me out of your mind?”

“It’s not.”

You couldn’t stand the way he was watching you with so much calm in his expression; as if he was so sure about what the two of you shared. “How do you know?”

He leaned forward, lips twitching as he heard your breath catch in your throat at his close proximity. “Because you’ve been on my mind since day one, kitten. Believe me when I say nothing could get you out of it. Nothing would make me want you to leave it.”

The temptation to lean in further, to finally press your lips against him and know what it felt like nearly overtook you. If he were anyone else, you would have gone for it, but this was Bradley. The man who you thought hated you with a burning passion, the one who continued to catch you by surprise day in and day out. You’d fought with him so many times that finding a middle ground seemed impossible. By graduation you figured things would never change. He would always be the man you were too afraid to admit your feelings to and he would continue hating you.

A cold chill went down your spine causing you to shudder. That alone was enough to snap you out of whatever spell you were under, giving you time to take a step back and assess what just occurred. So, you got up from the chair—much to his disappointment.

“Panther?” His eyebrows pulled together, eyes filled with worry and you couldn’t discern if it was for you or for the situation. Somehow that made everything that much more maddening.

“You’re joking right?” He froze, one foot planted on the ground and the other still propped up on the stool, his mouth opening to no doubt contradict your question, but you were too far gone to stop. “This has to be some prank you’re playing, because we’ve hated each other for years. I’m not imagining that right?”

“Kitten—”

You stumbled back as he stood fully. “No wait. I…I’m having trouble believing that. You hate me and all of a sudden you don’t anymore? Last time I checked those feelings don’t necessarily go away just like that.”

His expression of worry fell away, a hard look replacing it. “If you don’t feel the same way then you can say that. But don’t give me this bullshit excuse.”

“EXCUSE?” you shouted. “You think I’m giving you an excuse? Oh that’s right I forgot. Bradley Bradshaw can do no wrong. So how dare I think that when he confesses feelings it’s real and not meant to make fun of my own—” You cut yourself off, snapping your jaw shut as the words you were too terrified to say nearly broke free on their own.

But the damage had been done. His eyes widened as what you just said sunk into his mind and before you could scramble back to put even more distance between the two of you, he’d closed whatever still existed. A gasp escaped you as his arm wrapped around your waist, dragging you closer until no space remained, until you had no choice but to look up at him and meet his eyes. They were practically brimming with an emotion you couldn’t place no matter how hard you wracked your brain.

He’d never looked at you like that before.

“What did you say?” he whispered, reaching up to cup your cheek.

“Nothing.”

His lips curled up into a crooked smile. “Bullshit.”

“Fuck you Bradshaw.” It didn’t have the intended effect you hoped it would. Rather than letting you go, his smile only deepened, thumb brushing along the top of your cheek lightly and causing your head to spin. “You don’t get to come in here and act like you’re the only one who felt that way.”

“Kitten—”

“No! You don’t get to confess when I’ve spent years loving you, when I should be the one to confess—”

His hand curled around the back of your neck, yanking you so close and for a brief moment you prepared yourself to slap him away. But then…his lips molded over yours so swiftly the thought fell away. You mind nearly shut off as he pressed himself closer, his tongue sliding along your bottom lip. He was…kissing you. Seconds passed before he started to pull away due to no response from you, the rest of you lagging behind. Except then your brain came back to life.

Leaning into him, you slid a hand up his chest, curling into his hair and pulling him even closer as you woke up from your daze. After so many years of being at each other’s throats, the truth had been finally set free. You just never expected it to result in this. He tasted like whiskey and mint, smelled like the remnants of jet fuel and spice, and felt like home.

That alone tugged so sharply at your heart it nearly hurt. Pulling at his bottom lip, you smiled at the guttural moan that he let out. His fingers dug into your waist, his movements becoming bolder as he stepped forward, forcing you back until you hit the bartop.

“Bradley,” you gasped, pulling away to catch your breath.

He groaned, lips trailing down the side of your neck. “I love when you say my name.”

“I say it all the time,” you giggled, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of his teeth biting into your skin.

“Not like that.”

Much to your disappointment he pulled away, his lust clouded eyes meeting yours. It was like looking into a damn mirror. Both of you were grasping onto your self-control that seemed to be slipping by the minute. In the end you would lose, but for now whatever remained kept you from doing something stupid like fucking in the middle of Penny’s bar. You wouldn’t have your first time with Bradley take place here.

You’d gone years being apart from each other—you could withstand a few more hours. Only now that the truth was out and you knew how the other felt, a few hours suddenly felt like long excruciating days.

“We have to…” His heady gaze flickered down to your lips, his mouth parting slightly as he heaved in breaths. “We have to talk,” you managed to get out. 

Although you fared no better. You were five seconds away from asking him to take you on top of the bartop, consequences be fucking damned. However, the little annoying part of your conscience reminded you that waiting until you were on a bed would help the situation twenty times more. So, you wrangled what little logic you had left back into your mind and pushed away from him to catch your breath properly.

“I mean…we leave tomorrow.”

“We do.” Glancing at him, you felt your clit practically throb at the sight of darkened eyes watching you like you were his prey. While you had a mental talk with your body about self control and waiting, it seemed he came up with an entirely different outcome on his own.

“Bradley.”

His eyes closed, chest heaving as he took in a deep breath before they opened again and you nearly lost the tight grip you had on your restraint then and there. “If you want to talk kitten I’d refrain from saying my name like that.”

“Oh—” Your brain froze as images flashed through your mind of what you could be doing instead of talking. “I wanted to say…”

Taking a step closer, he grinned at the sight of you trying to form coherent words. “You wanted to say?”

“That…that we need to figure out…um.”

His hand cupped your cheek, thumb running along your bottom lip and pulling at it. “Yeah?”

It hit you suddenly that he was enjoying this. He loved seeing you dumbfounded and unable to speak because of him. Found pleasure in watching his incredibly smart fucking girl go from ripping him a new one to only thinking about one thing. Some part of you loved it too. Which is why when he cooed, brushing his lips across yours, his warm breath washing across your cheek, you crumpled. Dug your hands into his hair and molded yourself against him until you were practically inside of him.

That’s right where you wanted to be. You wanted to dig yourself a small space inside of his heart and remain there until the end of time—stay by his side until it was no longer possible.

His lips caught yours, tongue plunging into your mouth and licking into you. He dragged a moan from you so loud it nearly broke you in two. It was then you realized. The space you wanted in his heart already existed. He’d carved it himself the day you met and he’d been waiting all this time for you to claim it as yours. To finally confirm all his hopes and dreams.

“Not here,” you breathed, keening when he rolled his hips into your stomach, his cock straining against the seam of his pants.

“What?”

Using the very last bit of strength you had, you pulled away, cupping his face and watching his eyes flutter open. “Penny will kill me if I fuck you in her bar.”

That woke him up. “Okay. Yeah,” he breathed. “My place?”

You nodded.

Finally taking a clear breath, you watched him place money under the bottle of whiskey, placing the glasses in the dirty bin beneath the bar and reach for the keys. All the while you tried to focus on following him out of the bar. You still wore your uniform khakis like him, your jacket hanging off the back of the bar stool and he grabbed that too. Warmth spread through your body, your heart thumping erratically in your chest as he took your hand and led you out towards his car.

You couldn’t believe this was actually happening, but the smile he gave you and the way he squeezed your palm in his, shoved away every doubt you had in your mind. This was more real than anything you’d experienced. You just wished it would remain this way.

“Tell me this will last,” you murmured, stopping him before you could fully get to his car—the vehicle so familiar to you yet entirely brand new. “Tell me that…”

He kissed you quickly, barely a brush of his lips against yours but it was still enough to take the breath from your lungs. “I’ve never been this sure before that this will last.”

“But—”

“You think too much kitten.”

Shoving his shoulder you smiled into the second kiss. “Sometimes I worry you don’t think enough Bradshaw.”

“Ouch.” He walked backwards, taking you with him until his back hit the passenger side door of his car. “If I think too much I get distracted, because you’re always on my mind.”

You laughed, seeing the pride flicker in his eyes at the sight of you giving into his warm embrace, of letting yourself go for the first time in a long time. “You’re so cheesy.”

“Only for you,” he mumbled into the kiss, biting sharply on your bottom lip, smirking at the whine that came from the back of your throat.

Thankfully Penny’s bar wouldn’t take the brunt of whatever Bradley had planned for you. Only you weren’t sure how patient you could be. You wondered if he fared any better than you.

The door swung open, his hand held out to help you in with another chaste kiss to your lips and that’s what did it. Flipped your heart in your chest and solidified the feelings you held for him in your body. Without knowing it he’d ingrained himself in your bones, became the person you needed in your life—the man you wanted.

He got into the driver's seat with ease, a breathless smile on his lips, light in his eyes even though the moon was covered by clouds and the lamps outside were too dim. Bradley always lit up every room he entered. That was a known fact. Yet even tonight as he started the car, pulling out of the lot and heading onto the main streets, you saw the glow that practically emanated from his very being. He was beautiful, a work of art. 

Somehow in the chaos around you, he decided that you were the one he wanted.

“You know I’ve driven this road so many times, but never with you in my car.”

Your lips pulled up into a soft grin. “Does it feel different?”

“Not really but also…yes.”

Glancing out the window you saw the pitch black expanse of the ocean, what few stars that peeked their head out glimmering in the sky. “I should have told you how I felt earlier. Maybe then it wouldn’t feel so different.”

His hand found yours, pulling it to his lips. “I like how this feels. I’m not lonely when you’re here.”

“And what about tomorrow?”

The second the words left your mouth you knew you shouldn’t have asked. Why bring up something that would ultimately ruin the moment? But you had to know. Was this only a temporary fix for the both of you? Or was Bradley all in? He knew how you felt, yet the confirmation of his feelings were still up in the air and you wondered if they would ever land safely on the ground. Maybe they were destined to remain in the clouds, forever a mystery to you.

He took in a deep breath, his eyes going back to the dark road ahead. “I’m not going to leave you baby.”

“You won’t have a choice Bradley.”

“No I mean it,” he replied, fixing you in his gaze as the car rolled to a stop. “I’m in this…for good. We’ll have missions and be apart for a while, but leaving you? That’s no longer an option for me.”

Rather than respond, you turned back to the dark road in an attempt to make out something clear ahead. This was the path you and Bradley were destined for. Whenever you thought about a future with him your mind simply procured nothing but this. Darkness on a once clear path—a jumble of confusion and chaos that would only prolong with you being apart from one another. You wanted to accept his words as truth, to willingly follow him blindly on this road, but you knew…it wouldn’t end the way he hoped.

Heartbreak had always riddled the two of you and it seemed that this would be no different.

He started driving again, somehow sure that nothing blocked the pitch black shadows ahead. Perhaps that’s where you differed. He held hope and you…couldn’t. At least not yet.

Silence filled the car as he continued to drive, his hand still clutching yours in a warm embrace. Both of you traversed the road together until it finally broke away to reveal a street filled with light. Trees lined the sidewalk, their roots breaking open the cement, the branches nearly covering the lamps that stood tall next to them. There weren’t that many homes on this street and you knew from hanging out with them that Payback was across the street, Fanboy next door.

They were so small you weren’t even sure that they would be considered houses, but Bradley seemed to consider this home, his posture relaxing even further as he parked the car. You felt the cold night air seep in through the window, the amber scent of his cologne you knew so well filling your nose. If you could you’d permanently sear it in your mind. Just to be able to remember him clearly at a moment’s notice.

“It’s nice,” you said, taking in the sight of the small white home with a porch that had a single potted plant of white lilies on it by the doorstep.

“Those were my mom’s favorite flowers.”

“They’re beautiful.”

He kissed your palm one last time before dropping it to get out of the car, coming around to your door. Even as you waited all of one minute you felt the anticipation grow thick in the air around you—your nerves leaping beneath your skin, heart pounding with each breath. You only felt this way before missions, the adrenaline coursing through your body in order to counteract the fear. Except this time you had no fear.

Even though you fought with him, tried to pretend that hatred ran deeper than love in your case, you knew him. He was the man who watched as you beat him time and time again in the skies, the man who kept you in his sights lest something go wrong. The man who bought his mother’s favorite flowers to keep a piece of her with him at all times.

You took his hand when he offered it and followed him down the small pathway that was lined with pebbles. Was he as nervous as you were? Did he feel like breathing was both easier and harder around you like you did with him? The steps creaked beneath the weight of both of you and you quickly glanced behind you at Payback and Fanboy’s houses.

“Don’t worry,” Bradley said, catching your attention as he slid the key easily into the lock and pushed the door open. “Payback’s heading home tonight to see his wife one last time before mission orders come through and Fanboy met with a girl at the bar earlier tonight.”

“Isn’t that most nights for Garcia?”

He chuckled, pulling you into the house and shutting the door with his foot. “I hear that it’s the same girl from last month.”

“Looks like somebody finally caught his eye for good,” you replied, looping your arms around his neck, seeking out more of his warmth.

“He’s not the only one.”

Once again, the breath caught in your lungs. “Bradley…”

“I mean it baby,” he breathed, dipping his head down until his lips brushed against yours. “I’ve never been happier than when you walked into me on the first day.”

A memory flared bright in your mind like a lamp being turned on again for the first time. The first day at TopGun you didn’t know anyone—still a fresh faced nervous as fuck newbie. But right as you walked into the room you rammed right into a man who ended up giving you your callsign.

“Where are you heading in a rush?”

You fixed him with a stoic look, ready to challenge him if he tried to pick on you. “Not my fault you were walking out as I was walking in.”

He merely smiled and that’s where the trouble started. “You’ve got to be quick like a cat around here. You know, like a panther.”

The name stuck after that; eventually you grew fond of it, preferring to be called that over anything else. The memory still made you smile even after all those years of fighting. There remained a glimmer of hope in his eyes the day you met, excitement to see what the skies had to offer him. A passion that you saw now as he led you through the house.

“That long?” you asked, feeling his hands grip your hips, sending a pleasurable spark down your spine.

“Always kitten. Always.”

You didn’t need to say anything else, because he’d already said it for you. Years passed, fights happened, but the feelings still remained. A familiar part of your life with him that never truly vanished. Pulling him closer you pressed your lips against his, attempting to spill every little word you couldn’t get out into this one kiss. Somehow he understood.

His hands pulled at your uniform shirt and t-shirt, yanking it up and over your head before coming back to your lips. A gasp left you when his warm palms connected with the bare skin of your stomach. You’d been touched before, but with him this felt like more. There was an understanding between you that this was real, this was what you fought against for so long. He stroked up your sides, his moan being swallowed by your kiss; almost as if he was the one being touched. 

The sound alone went straight to your pussy, the slick you knew was there practically dripped down the inside of your thighs. He reached for the belt of your pants, pulling it off with a swift motion, the metal of the buckle clattering loudly to the floor. Neither of you paid it any mind. You panted into his mouth, nails digging into his shoulder. You were aching for him to touch you, to fill you until you were unable to breathe.

Per your silent request, he popped open the button of your pants, dipping his hand in slowly—the drag of his fingers causing your hips to jolt forward. If you were riled up before that was nothing compared to now. You could feel the shake of your legs as the anticipation curled in your stomach. The need for him clouding everything in your mind until it was simply taken up by thoughts of him. You trembled when he dragged his fingers gently along your slit, a wet moan being pressed into the hollow of his throat.

“Please,” you breathed, unable to hear yourself over the rushing echo in your ears.

You were almost positive that your heart would stop the second he went further, the organ beating erratically in your chest—threatening to pop under the stress. He groaned when his fingers sunk into your slick, sliding the wetness up and along your pussy until the rough pad of his index finger bumped against your clit. A choked moan tore from your throat, your eyes squeezing shut as he focused on that one area, intent on dragging out every manner of sounds from you.

“You’re so wet,” he marveled, his mouth parting with panted breaths.

Glancing up, you felt your stomach swoop at the debauched sight of him. A red stain spread along his cheeks, his lips swollen from you biting them. He turned his gaze to your face, watching your eyelashes flutter with each light press against your clit. His eyes were dark, filled to the brim with lust and a heat began to rapidly spread throughout your body, filling your face with warmth.

No man had ever looked at you the way Bradley did. Shit, you weren’t even sure men looked at you before Bradley. With one single look he rendered you incapacitated to the pleasure that shot through your veins. Your hips canted forward, chasing his fingers every time he pulled away—the desperation for your impending orgasm growing by the second.

Yet something told you he had no intention of making you come this way.

“Baby,” you whined, pressing a spit slicked kiss to his lips.

He shivered, his eyes falling shut for a brief second before opening again. The intense look he gave you back at the bar now back.

“Bedroom,” he grunted, yanking his hand out of your pants and snatching your hand to practically drag you behind him.

Clothes were strewn along the hallway floor with each step closer to the bedroom door. He pulled off his shirts, tossing them to the floor before reaching for his belt. A job you happily assisted him with, your hand wrapping around his leaking cock briefly to get back at him for accidentally edging you.

He sagged against the wall, his head falling back with a thump, mouth dropping open at the feel of you stroking him so tenderly. You felt the hard press of his fingers against your bare hip, the sharp bite of his blunt nails digging into your skin. The pain didn’t even register in your mind. Instead you found yourself lost in the sight of him. His chest shone with a faint sheen of sweat, causing him to glow in the dim lights of his house. He dug his teeth into his bottom lip in order to muffle the whimpered moans leaving him.

All in all he looked ethereal. You were struck by his beauty once more, completely thrown off by the fact that this is what you got to see when he finally gave up control. His hips thrusted up into your hand, his need for a tighter grip on his cock slowly tipping him off the cliff of sanity. But you simply remained. Leaning up, you bit down on his bottom lip, pulling it free from the hold of his teeth and licking at it gently as if to soothe the ache left behind.

“Fuck,” he groaned, eyes finally opening to meet yours.

“I like you like this.”

Part of you wished you hadn’t said the words out loud, because it snapped him back into action. Tugging your hand free from his half open pants, he walked you backwards until you were finally inside his medium sized bedroom. If you had the time to look around you would see a bed so neatly made it would make the general cry, a nightstand with a single lamp, and a desk that held two picture frames on it. The light to his lamp flickered on as he practically slapped his hand on the light switch, his lips and attention occupied with kissing a trail down your chest.

“You’re not gonna give me a tour flyboy?” He paused, his head lifting to see the sly smile creeping along your lips. “Since I’m so special.”

You knew you were intentionally being a little shit, but when you saw the corner of his lips twitch you knew he couldn’t get enough.

“On the bed,” he muttered, pushing his pants down. “Now.”

“Last time I checked you weren’t my superior officer.”

“Kitten,” he growled, pushing down his briefs until they joined his pants in a heap on the floor.

Your eyes fell to his cock that stood against his stomach. A whine escaped you at the sight of it still red and leaking, a pearl of precum forming at the tip. You longed to lick it off, to know what he tasted like, what he felt like on your tongue, and you knew he knew it. The grin he wore was still noticeable even though your attention wasn’t solely on his face.

“You still want that tour?” Swallowing thickly you tried to school your expression, but your reaction already gave you away. He moved closer, his hand coming up to cup your chin before moving to lay flat against your throat. “Hm?”

No words came from your mouth. No words even came to your fucking head. All you could focus on was the thought of his cock and how you ached to have him inside of you. The worst part of it all was that he could tell. He saw it clear as day on your face how needy you were for him and he loved it.

“What’s the matter kitten?” He leaned down, his lips dragging along yours. “Don’t tell me you lost all your words before I’ve fucked you.”

Another whimper echoed in the quiet room, your breathing getting heavier the longer he kept you there in his hold. If you were anyone else you would have given up the ruse and resorted to begging. But you weren’t anyone else and that’s why Bradley wanted you. Meeting his heated stare, you smiled, your eyes fixing him with fucked out look that had his adam’s apple bobbing.

“Oh Bradshaw. We both know you aren’t that good.”

A feral noise ripped from his chest, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pushed you flat against the bed. Despite your feelings for one another, despite the truth finally being set free, there was one thing you and Bradley would never give up on. Winning a fight no matter how small and stupid.

“You can’t stop, can you?” he said, maneuvering your legs until they were spread out, giving him room to lay between them. Even you had to admit that being manhandled by him made you lose it faster than you would have liked.

“Where’s the—ah—the fun in that?”

His hand went back to your throat, teeth biting down on the soft skin of your breasts. Pain sliced through you in a gentle wave, prolonging the pleasure that sparked up your spine. You didn’t want him to stop, your slick practically dripping down onto his sheets.

“Yeah? Fun? Okay kitten. How about you tell me exactly what you’re thinking.”

Your mouth opened, ready to fire back with an array of comments, but Bradley was intent on winning. He always was. His finger delved back in between your thighs, sliding through your slick until they were pressed up against your entrance. One final push and they sunk into your wet heat—a gasp tearing from your throat at the sensation. And he watched as you struggled to breathe let alone get words out.

“Where’s my smart girl?” he asked, taunting you with his smile, his fingers thrusting into you slowly. “C’mon kitten. Use your words.”

All you could get out was a moan, your head falling back into his pillow when his fingers dragged along your walls, his thumb pressing against your clit. Your mind blanked, mouth dropping open the longer he kept going and in the distance you could feel the unfurling sensation you craved once again. It spread rapidly through your body, your hands curling around his biceps to find something to grip onto. You were afraid of floating away and never coming back down.

His lips dragged down your throat, sucking on the skin lightly and scraping his teeth to create the beautiful dichotomy of pain and pleasure you seemed to love. A garbled moan of his name caught his attention, his head raising quickly to see your half open eyes and swollen lips. That seemed to give him the incentive to reduce you to a mess even more.

Groaning, he sped up the thrusts of his fingers, his head ducking down—lips wrapping around your nipple.

“I’m—fuck—Bradley I’m—,” you couldn’t speak, each word more incoherent than the last.

He understood you though. Smiling against your skin, he watched you writhe beneath him. Each gasp from you sounded like music to his ears, a symphony that he would never tire of.

“I’ve got you kitten,” he murmured, kissing up your sternum, his warm breath washing across your skin. “You want to cum?”

You nodded, a broken please falling from your lips. Grinding down on his fingers you felt the breath leave your lungs at the feeling of him pressing even harder on your clit. Sparks shot up your spine, the coil of pleasure winding so tight in you the longer he kept going.

He pressed his lips to yours, his tongue gliding along your bottom lip. “So cum for me.”

The coil snapped, flooding your body with the white-hot debilitating sensation that made your eyes roll back. Crying into his mouth you felt your hips buck into his palm, his thumb still stimulating your clit with small measured strokes. You heard him cuss under his breath, caught the way his eyes were focused solely on your face—memorizing what you looked like. Everything felt like you were underwater, because of how you were drowning in the pleasure, sinking into its warm embrace and begging for more.

“Fuck me,” he breathed, dropping his forehead to yours, kissing you gently while you came back to your senses.

A lazy smile slowly spread across your lips when he pulled back. “I’m trying to Bradshaw.”

He laughed, dropping his face to your shoulder, teeth digging into the skin and sending pleasurable shocks to your clit. “I guess you didn’t cum hard enough if you can still tease me.”

“Teasing you is half the fun baby.”

“Yeah?” His hips grinded into you, eliciting a gasp from you that went straight to his cock that was wedged between your stomach and his.

Before your lips could fully form his first name—the plea following after—he dipped his head down, scraping his teeth along your chin. Dragging your leg up and around his hip, he lined his cock up, sliding it through your slick folds. A moan was pressed to your lips, a shiver wracking his body at the feeling of your cum and his precum mixing together and spreading around his cock. You tugged sharply at his hair, curling your arm around his back, digging your nails into the skin.

“Fuck kitten you’re so wet,” he choked, pressing into your slowly and nearly falling over you when you clenched around him. “So fucking tight.”

“Oh—” Your hips pressed down, nails scraping up his back in an effort to latch onto him.

The stretch of his cock sent a pleasurable burn through you, words dying on your tongue with each small thrust he pressed into you. You ached to have him fill you until nothing remained, until you were connected to him with no space left. The familiar building sensation began again, steadily driving you mad. With a final moan of your name, he pushed into you, his hips meeting yours.

“Shit,” he gasped, digging his fingers into your thigh in order to bring himself back to the ground. 

He remained still, his breaths coming out in pants, but you weren’t as patient. Moaning you grinded into him—your eyes fluttering shut; you’d never felt so full before. His hands shifted to still the movements of your hips, a choked growl you’d never heard him make echoing around you. He looked wrecked. His hair was wild from you running your hands through it, a glazed look in his eyes that you could only categorize as feral.

There were no words exchanged between you, but he could tell what you needed. Without warning he pulled out until only the tip remained, slamming back into you and grinning when you shouted in ecstasy. The pace wasn’t gentle; it took you apart piece by piece, promising to give you the end you ached for.

Sobbing into the sloppy kiss that spread spit down your chin which he leaned over to lick off, you felt the pressure build and build and build. You couldn’t think, could barely get breath into your lungs fast enough before it was punched out each time he thrust back into you. The drag of his cock along your walls was delicious. Sending sparks down your legs as your heels dug into his ass.

His hand dropped down to your clit, fingers rubbing in time with his thrusts. You didn’t have a chance to warn him before your pussy clamped down around his cock, a hoarse cry coming from you.

“Fuck baby.” His eyes screwed shut, head tilting back to stave off the painful ache of his body wanting to give in. You felt his hips stutter, his hands digging into your sides as he fought against cumming right then and there.

The sight of his neck stretched out and on display for you was too enticing to look away. Lifting your head you licked along the prominent vein that stood out on his skin—his eyes snapping back to yours when your teeth followed the trail you just made. That same sound echoed in your ears, the reminder that Bradley was so far gone he could barely remember his own name. Sitting up, he dragged your body forward, your legs spreading even further until he could clearly see your cum leaking out around his cock.

Heat spread up your face when he moved, the echo of your slick spreading along his cock ringing in the room. Normally you would have felt embarrassed, but the sight of his eyes darkening, his mouth dropping open slightly, washed away those feelings instantly.

“You hear that kitten?” He spread your cum on his fingers, bringing them to his mouth—his eyes shutting at the taste of you on his tongue. Bradley had half a mind to pull out and devour you, but there would be time for that later. “That’s cause of me.”

A weak moan was all you could get out.

That was enough for him.

Once more he started with a pace that quickly built up the already familiar pressure in your lower body. You wouldn’t be able to say how he shoved you to the edge so fast with just a few movements. It was like he had possession over your body. Telling it what to do when; each thrust sending you spiraling into the pit of overwhelming pleasure. Gasping, you tried to match his speed, but you couldn’t.

“Bradley!” you cried. Your nails scratched so hard along his back you were positive it would leave marks come morning. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

Not when he gripped your leg and yanked it over his shoulder, thrusting into you so roughly you were shoved up the bed.

“That’s it kitten,” he grunted, his voice barely audible over the slapping of skin against skin and the wet squelch of your pussy. “Come on. Give me one more.”

Shifting the angle of his hips, he struck gold—a sharp keening wail bouncing off the walls of his small home. His head shot up, eyes meeting yours as a blinding smile spread across his lips. He could listen to the sounds you made all fucking day if it meant he was the one inside of you and like a madman seeking his prize, he sped up. His cock pounded into you, hitting your g-spot with so much precision you would have thought he was hitting a target that was assigned to him.

Your toes curled over his shoulders, the pleasure mounting in your body so high that it made your vision blurry, but you forced yourself to watch him. To see the sweat practically drip from his face as his lust clouded eyes bored into yours. He panted with every thrust, baring his teeth and still fighting against his own release, because he wanted to see you fall apart around his cock again. He needed to feel it.

His name was like a prayer on your lips and with a final devastating thrust, you shattered.

Clawing at his back, you felt your legs shake, the pressure snapping in two and drowning you entirely. Your back arched off the bed with the force of your orgasm—a sobbed out scream piercing your ears.

He collapsed over you, his lips pressing roughly against yours as he moaned your name, his body shaking while he finally let go. You felt the warmth of his cum spurt into you and practically spill out around his cock. Your hands still gripped onto any part of him you could reach, because you needed him even closer. Fuck you needed him to press you into the bed with the full weight of his body and seemed to understand you.

Letting go, he dropped fully, a small oof coming from you when the air was pushed out of your lungs. The sound made him smile.

Neither of you moved, fully content in staying wrapped up in one another while you kissed. The taste of you still remained on his tongue, creating a heady thrill up your spine, your pussy clenching around him when he licked deeply into your mouth. He grunted, his hips shifting—the overstimulation too much for either of you. Eventually you’d have to move in order to clean up, but for now you couldn’t.

Giving up this feeling, this small moment of peace was too heartbreaking to bear it just yet.

“Where are you being sent to?” you asked, watching his fingers twine with your own.

For two hours you’d been laying in his arms while you talked about anything and everything. There was so much to catch up on and yet so little you didn’t already know about one another. You learned things over the years here and there. Like how Bradley favored cookies over cake, how he always came to classes attempting to present the best version of himself. How he would duck his head and smile softly whenever someone gave him a compliment.

You knew this man just as he knew you. Yet there was still so much to find out.

“I’ll learn tomorrow,” he murmured, pressing his cheek to your head. Your legs were twinged together, mimicking your fingers and you suddenly realized…you’d never been this comfortable before. “How about you?”

“I don’t know,” you said, knowing it was a lie. He didn’t know about your change of plans yet.

You knew if you told him now the moment you had would shatter like broken glass.

“We’ll find ways to make this work.” He said with so much certainty it twisted your heart, pain spreading through your chest. “I know it.”

“I’d like that,” you breathed, afraid that if you said the words any louder he’d see right through you.

How could you tell him that you were rethinking everything you worked so hard to have? How could you break his dreams of being with you like that? It was selfish of you to do this, to keep him in the dark, but the doubt still clouded your sense of clarity. So you simply remained quiet, allowing him to pull you closer to him, his face pressed into the back of your neck. Until you heard him begin to snore softly, each puff of breath hitting your skin.

You wanted to remember this moment, burn it into your mind, because you weren’t sure if you’d ever get it again. Loving Bradley was like loving the skies. You’d do anything to join him up there, to be enveloped wholly in his warmth, yet you’d never get to stay. He was the clouds you longed to be a part of, the skies that called to you like a siren song.

But eventually, like every other pilot…you’d have to land back on solid ground one way or another.

Turning slowly you watched him sleep, saw the way his eyelids fluttered as he began to dream, and you imagined a future with him. Would you write letters to one another? Call whenever you could? Or would you constantly be in a state of longing for the man who you could never really call yours. Both of you would be gone for who knows how long, barely getting to see one another.

Though you hated the truth, you couldn’t ignore it. What you would share would break both of you in two, creating a rift so large that mending it wouldn’t be possible. Leaning in, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips, savoring in their plush softness before you pulled away. He shifted when you sat up and for a moment you wished he would wake up, just so you could see his eyes one last time.

The wood floors creaked under your bare feet, your clothes strewn through the house, and you gathered all of them—getting dressed quickly. He remained asleep, his head turned towards the pillow you were on, arm stretched across the bed as if reaching for you, the sheets wrapped around his waist. And you ingrained that single image in your mind.

Shutting the door gently, you shivered when the biting cold of the morning air stung your cheeks. You stood there for a moment, watching the skies begin to turn the usual light blue shade as the sun rose, and for a moment you thought about going back inside. You wondered what waking up with him would be like.

The potted plant still remained by your feet, the white petals delicate and frail. You smiled bitterly, thinking that this plant in all its beauty was the embodiment of your relationship to Bradley. Though you both wanted it…it still remained breakable in the end.

Never strong enough to remain in the end.

You sighed, watching your breath form in the air, and stepped off his porch. Heading back to a harsh reality that no longer included Bradley.

Or so you thought…

[zeawesomebirdie]

hi !!!! did NOT consider you might like to have the ask again to answer it. if you do:

seeing you post about your old west au is motivating me to at least draft my stuff out for my fic, too!!! so, firstly: good god thank you. secondly, what kind of drafting process do you normally go through? you don't have to answer this but everyone i know is pretty particular about how they write so i'm always curious!!!

Gosh okay I'm still so embarrassed about accidentally posting this before it was ready!! Lesson learned: only work on long posts on desktop (very affectionate). I'm going to copy paste what I had originally said, but there will be added stuff because it wasn't anywhere near ready to go (if you thought it was long before, honey you ain't seen nothing yet!)

Also I still am so proud of you for working on your fic, we are writing buddies now hand in lovable hand I love you thank you for enabling my rambling <33

Buckle in, here we go!

SO! My drafting process is always a moving target. I do what works best for the work in question, and things change depending on my energy and fatigue levels plus my motivation and interest levels

So that said, right now my process usually looks like:

ramble at someone in DMs, copy and paste rambles into a google doc for safekeeping and marinating

zero draft, aka word vomit until a plot forms, block out actions and the occasional dialog, determine chapter and story arcs

first draft, aka Where The Real Writing Happens

optional second draft, but only if the fic is under 10k

line edits

post :)

find a bunch of typos that I somehow missed during line editing, fix those before anyone notices

I will be showing examples because this is a bit hard to explain and Extremely Intense to a lot of people, and yeah that's because it is! I approach writing fanfic the same way I approach writing original fiction, and I find it works best for me as a plotter

If you are metaphorically inclined and familiar with oil painting: I write the way an oil painter paints. First I block in the big shapes, the gestures, and the colours. Then I come back in subsequent drafts and increase the detail until I'm done!

Further information and actual examples of my drafts will be below the cut, because this is gonna be super long and I love talking shop ^.^

And general content warning for non-graphic violence and graphic smut (and shitty early drafts); the examples are from Bruce Wayne/Dick Grayson fics

So before we get into the zero draft, I want to point out two things: first, I do full rewrites. This is why writing takes me one million years. I retype each and every word in each and every draft. Second, I'm actually trying something new with the Old West!AU, for reasons I will explain in a moment!

I started doing full rewrites in 2019 after a college writing course, in which we read Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott; she encourages the reader to embrace the shitty first draft. I ended up really benefiting from a zero draft too, something I first learned about in 2020 from someone on authortube who I no longer remember the name of. The zero draft is essentially a pre-draft, in which one gets the gist of the story out of their system before the prose clogs up the spigot

For me, zero drafts are something that need to be finished as fast as possible in order to get done at all, so due to the sheer length of the Old West!AU, I'm trying out writing little bullet points instead of my full zero drafting. Right now this fic is at 27 chapters, and this is part 1 of 3 total. I will be going back and filling in the actual blocking once I have all the scenes roughly accounted for

Context for the Old West!AU: Bruce is the Bat, a vigilante gunman who only kills when he needs to but still has the fastest draw on this side of the Mississippi. Now that he's taken care of the man who killed his parents, he's returned home to his Uncle Alfred and gone straight, meaning that he's hung up his guns and gone back to homesteading the family land. He adopts Dick and then a year later Jason as well, when small burglaries start happening in town, so he takes the Bat out of retirement and goes to investigate.

My bullet points started out like this:

Open on comparison between Bruce's first gun and the Bat's guns. Introduce Joe Chill, general drunkard. The Bat calls out Chill, shootout, Chill is killed. Chill drew first. Moment of reflection between Bruce's first gunfight at 15 to this one, at 21. Bruce goes home.

And that's the whole entire first chapter!

However, now they look more like:

The Sheriff runs up and shoots at him. The Bat has him disarmed with his own gun barrel to his throat in an instant. It doesn't take the Bat much time to get info out of him either. The burglar is only going after small change, not enough to be noticeable. That rules out the gambler, easily. The Sheriff can't do shit about it, because no one is willing to start an investigation for such small change. The Bat shoves the Sheriff to his knees and is gone before he notices. Alfred is waiting for him when he gets home, and asks. Bruce tries to deny it, but the clothes are in his hands and he can't. So he sighs and says he may have made a promise, but… there might be more to this than there seems, okay? He just… has a bad feeling about it. Alfred can't accept this, what about his sons? Bruce can't take this, and tells him he doesn't have to. Their yelling wakes up Dick and Jason, who stand in the doorway to their bedroom and look on with the door mostly closed.

Eventually both Alfred and Bruce yell each other out, and they sit down for coffee as dawn breaks. Bruce breaks the silence first, saying Alfred is right. Alfred tells him he understands. Bruce decides to let the Bat go for real now.

This is about half of the chapter, and closer to the blocking I normally do in zero drafts

So far this pre-zero draft seems to be working, given I've already finished part 1, but I also can't wait to come back and do the blocking in because that's when the fic really starts to take shape!

Usually though, I just start with a zero draft. I'm going to show you two different fics for the zero draft examples, because they were done differently, and like I said at the beginning, I try to adjust my process based on what is called for by what I'm writing

This first is from the fic I'm writing for @ful-crum. It's a 5+1, in which it is five times Dick fucks Bruce to distract him from discussing his emotions plus one time they actually discuss their emotions and then fuck about it.

Tim and Jason turn up an hour later, and they're incredibly concerned. Dick waves them off. Tim takes him at his word and heads to bed (he has a meeting with Wayne Tech at 8am tomorrow, ugh), but Jason sits down next to the bed and asks Dick what he thinks Bruce is going to say. Dick tells him he's not sure, I mean, it's B, y'know? Jason just nods, and they lapse into silence. Then Steph and Cass come in, and Bruce is most noticeably not present. Cass signs something about bed, and Steph tells Dick that she's worried about Bruce, to which Jason snorts and says they all are, but she insists that Dick talk to him. Dick doesn't even need to take more than a moment to decide that won't be happening. But Steph goes to bed, and it's nearly 04:00 when Jason heads up too, saying he'd love to help Dick lecture Bruce about staying out late but he's got stuff to do tomorrow. Dick asks if he wants to know what stuff, and Jason gives him a smirk and says ask him no questions and he'll tell him no lies. Dick can live with that.

As you can see, this is just general staging directions and vibes

This second example was supposed to be for BruDick Week 2024, but I accidentally got carried away and ended up deciding to write a longfic for it instead. The prompt was "brudick meet their AU!selves," so I did 66!brudick meets the Gotham Rogues Polycule, an AU in which Bruce, Dick, and Clark are in a very elaborate polycule with half of Gotham's villains.

Batman and Robin were on a normal mission in the middle of the day, on the trail of Catwoman, who's been stealing from the Gotham Museum of Art again. One moment they were walking into the museum, the next they were in a weird swirl of energy. Robin clings to Batman and asks what's going on, and Batman tells him steady Robin, we just have to stay calm and see what happens. The energy clears as someone calls out “incoming! Clear the floor!” and they find themselves in what is clearly the Cave, except it's even more high tech than anything they've ever seen. There's three people in suits like theirs standing in front of a massive screen, and Robin identifies the Riddler immediately, even if he doesn't recognise the other two. Before Batman can stop him, he charges the Riddler, who jumps behind the man in black and blue with a laugh. Batman does call out for him to stop, but he ignores him. The man in black and blue meets his every move, almost like he's fighting himself, and he calls out to the man in red and blue “a little help here, Supes?”

The biggest difference here is how drastically these fics changed from their zero draft to the first draft rendition, and that is entirely because of how fleshed out they ended up being (or not being, lol)

When I zero drafted the 5+1, it was with the intention of that specific part simply being a chapter, whereas my original zero draft of the 66! meeting the polycule! fic was actually intended to be a two shot at most. I unfortunately lost control of the plot during the first draft of that one, and it spiraled into a longfic, which will become more clear in a bit!

Basically though, the goal of the zero draft is to know who's where and why at all times! With longfics, there is often a restructuring that happens after the zero draft is written, where I move scenes and sometimes whole chapters to their best locations. This is where I make the most use out of a beta! Pacing is a big struggle for me and it is easier to fix at this stage, before I have all the prose and have become attached to what I've written

Next up is the first draft, and this is a whole new document. This is where I write The Actual Words. This is more or less the final version of the fic, for longfics, give or take a few paragraphs and a shit ton of line edits. Having said that though, I write in fits and bursts, because y'know disabled and stuff. So I write a paragraph or two at a time, and I am constantly adding and subtracting words and lines and sometimes whole paragraphs while I am actively working on a chapter

I'm going to show the first draft versions of both of the above fics, and due to the length these will be extremely excerpted but they should serve as examples regardless. Generally speaking, my zero drafts are about 1/3 of the length of my finished fics, however the 5+1 is currently proving to be an exception so that number may not be super accurate

First, the 5+1:

“You did take care of them, right?” Dick asked, groaning when Jason’s mouth thinned as he looked away. “Is Steph at least still with him?” “Last I heard, they were—” Jason started, cutting himself off when the Cave’s alarm signaled the arrival of newcomers. A moment later, two muddy bikes roared into the garage, leaving dark tracks behind them as they parked haphazardly together on the far side of the garage. With the return of Black Bat and Spoiler, the only empty place on the garage floor now belonged to Batman himself. Dick tried to catch Jason’s eyes as they waited in the med bay for Cass and Steph to strip off their suits and join them, but Jason turned away from him, though he didn’t rise from the bed. Something must have gone down after he’d fallen unconscious, Dick was sure of it. Why else would Bruce have sent everyone else home early on a patrol night? He could already see it in his mind’s eye, Batman doing God-knew-what out in Gotham alone, Bruce coming home with a busted lip that Dick would have to personally clean up before they went to bed, how that lip would scab over and feel under his tongue when he kissed Bruce the next morning after waking up in their bed—Bruce’s bed—on accident. How that scab would stretch when the ghost of a smile caught Bruce by surprise after one of Dick’s terrible puns. “You okay?” Steph called across the Cave as she and Cass walked toward the med bay. “Never been better,” Dick replied, trying not to be put out at Jason’s eye roll. He put up a hand for Cass to inspect when she came up to his bedside, and after she had nodded her satisfaction of his health he smiled. “I’ll be right as rain in no time.”

And the 66! meets polycule! fic:

“You!” Robin shouted, not waiting for Batman to back him up as he charged toward the Riddler. Riddler didn't move—in fact, none of the three moved—then Robin was on him, punching his face hard enough to hear a distinct crack. That startled all three into action, Riddler swearing up a storm before throwing himself behind the blue masked man, who blocked Robin's next hits without hesitation. “Robin!” Batman called from somewhere behind him, but Robin ignored him, focusing his energy on striking past the masked man's defenses to get at Riddler. “I know you're behind this, you– you scum!” Robin snarled in Riddler's direction, placing a perfectly timed jab toward the masked man's left cheek and then feinting to the right. But the man met him easily, as though they were merely sparring. “I'm not who you think I am!” Riddler exclaimed, his hands cupping his face but doing little to staunch the blood streaming from his nose. “Let's slow down for a minute, okay?” the masked man said, his voice maddeningly level as if Robin wasn't trying every trick he knew to get past him. “We can explain.” “Yeah kid, there's a good explanation here, we promise,” Riddler added. Robin growled and spun around the  masked man's reach only to find him once again directly blocking him from Riddler. How in the dickens did he know exactly where Robin was going to strike before Robin himself knew? And why on earth was he protecting the Riddler? “Supes, we could use a hand here,” the masked man said, still obnoxiously calm, once again blocking Robin's fist and this time circling his hand around Robin's wrist to twist his arm behind his back. In a blink, Robin was lifted into the air by his collar, the blue and red suited man holding him at arm's length. Robin continued to struggle for a moment, but finally Batman came into view, frowning up at him. Seeing Batman's disapproval took every bit of wind from Robin's sails, and he deflated instantly. If Batman didn't think he needed to fight, then he probably didn't need to.

So as you can see, I just kinda fill in the details with each draft!

Which is where we come to the optional second draft. I try, I really do try, to do a full second draft of everything I write. I always am glad to have done one, once it's done. The problem is, I really do have very limited energy, and anything longer than a chapter or two just doesn't get finished if I try to give it a full second draft. I've instead been doing really vigorous line edits, which I don't have an examples of because those are done in the same document as the first draft!

Now, you're probably wondering why on earth I gave a smut content warning at the beginning of this post. WELL.

I am calling myself out as a newbie when it comes to the art of smut writing. My 5+1 fic, the one where literally every single part has extremely explicit smut, has the following in the zero draft:

Yes, that is not one, not two, but three "cue smuts." Clearly I was new at this (affectionate)

Shout out to past!me for this in the last part though, because at least it actually has some semblance of blocking even if it is still extremely lacking:

The kissing escalates (as it often does) to smut over the desk (though Dick does try to move the documents out of the way, even if Bruce is growling at him to leave it alone; he doesn't want to be the reason Tim has another caffeine-induced breakdown).

I didn't figure this out until I was actually writing this fic, but it turns out I not only need to block in regular action scenes, I also need to block in the smut, because otherwise I will be sitting there having no fucking clue what to write (very affectionate)

So I now present what a zero draft of smut looks like! This is from a 5+1 in which there are five times Bruce and Dick fuck because of Poison Ivy's sex pollen and it "doesn't mean anything," plus one time they fuck because they actually want to:

Dick asks if they can take off their suits, it's too hot he's too hot, and Bruce says okay, that's a good idea, and internally he's panicking because oh no. Oh no. But the moment the words are out he sees the relief in Dick's face, and realises Dick needs to be told what to do right now, so he tells him clearly to strip, it'll help. Once Dick is fully naked in the other seat, he turns to Bruce and asks if he needs help with his armor. His hand is tentatively, almost shyly stroking his cock, and Bruce is really struggling to not watch. He tells him no, he doesn't, and takes off the chest plate and arm armor, but leaves what's left of his leg armor on. He decides he can safely put his hand under his boxers, but Dick makes a little noise, and when he looks over he can clearly see Dick watching him stroke himself. Oh fuck. He's cumming before he even realises it, his boxers getting wet and sticky and his cock still so maddeningly hard and he strokes himself through it, unable to stop himself from moaning even as he tries to keep himself in a clinical mindset. Dick asks to see him, and Bruce, despite knowing what a bad, horrible idea this is, pulls down his boxers to reveal his cock. Dick shifts his hand on his own cock to mimic what Bruce is doing, and Bruce has the horrible realisation that he doesn't even really know how to jerk himself off. Dear God, hopefully Alfred stays the fuck out of the Cave tonight.

So it's really just more of the same general blocking directions and vibes!

Another thing of note for zero drafts, I try to use as few words as possible to get what I need across. These are only ever intended to be seen by myself and a beta, assuming anyone else besides me even sees them at all, so I use slang and shorthand and leave notes for myself in the text itself

This can be a bit weird for when I show it to betas (or anyone else, for that matter!) because there are some fics where the tone or the vocabulary in the zero is incredibly modern despite the fic being in a historical or pre-modern setting!

And I have yet to actually write the first draft of that one, so I'm going to give you the first draft of the "Cue more smut (but this time against the batmobile 😌)" scene so that you can see the difference between the blocking and an Actual Scene:

Bruce had turned his back to him, bracing himself against the batmobile, and Dick took hold of Bruce's hip to hold him steady when he slid a finger into his hole. A soft moan was all he got in verbal response, but Bruce pushed against Dick's finger despite Dick's best efforts to do this slowly. Chuckling under his breath, Dick slid in a second finger, relishing in the clench of Bruce's muscle as he began working him open. “Easy, B,” he said softly, leaning over him enough to move his hand from Bruce's hip to his cock. Bruce growled and arched into his touch, taking in Dick's fingers completely. “Someone's in a rush tonight, huh?” He didn't get a verbal response, not that he ever did. Bruce rarely spoke while full, relying instead on nonverbal communication to indicate his needs. It hadn't taken long for Dick to become acquainted with his movements back when they started this; after all, fucking was no different from fighting, not for them, not when they had flown side by side across Gotham for more than half of Dick's life. And Dick knew Bruce would always try to get him to rush just a little, knew he'd give in like he always did, wanting to have his cock inside Bruce as soon as physically possible just as much as Bruce did. He wasted no more time, sliding his fingers out and releasing Bruce's cock just long enough to slick up his own. The small whine from Bruce at the loss of contact ought to be ignored, ought not be acknowledged, and Dick knew that, but he couldn't resist leaning over to kiss the small of Bruce's back. Bruce huffed at him, glaring over his shoulder. Dick met his eyes with a grin. Then Dick gripped Bruce's hip again, holding him steady while Bruce leaned back to meet him, and slipped into his tight heat. There was a soft moan from Bruce the moment he bottomed out; Dick leaned forward again to kiss up his spine, keeping his cock buried deep even while Bruce began to rock back into him.

I do think the fic for @ful-crum would be easier if I had proper blocking for the smut, but also I do love a good challenge and you live and you learn, so I'm not super invested in going back and blocking in the smut at this point in time!

And honestly, once the line edits are done that's pretty much it!

I keep a little "posting info" doc for each and every fic I write, to which I add tags as I come to them in writing, so that I don't have to think about what needs to be tagged at the end after I've already forgotten what I've written. That has saved my butt so many times ngl, especially for longfics!

But really what keeps me from posting more often, despite how much I write, is that I fully finish fics before I post them, even if I'm posting them on a weekly or whatever basis. This is mostly because I can't guarantee when I'll need to randomly take several months off of writing, and I don't want to leave anything unfinished, but also because I don't want to actually end up leaving something unfinished for a few years until I cycle back into the fandom

And that's it!! Thanks for tuning in to this little master class :) If I can clarify anything please let me know; I tried to explain everything that I thought needed it but I can never tell what others will need more clarification on!!

And also, thanks again for asking this!! I don't know many people who do full drafts, or even many people who don't completely pants everything they write, and so I'm always excited to discuss my process!! I also am a firm believer in "take what helps and leave the rest," so if you find something in my process that sounds like something you'd like to do, give it a whirl!! I think it's super important to share the different kinds of processes there can be for writing, because everyone really writes so differently, you know?

Anyway, thanks for stopping by and I hope you enjoyed my shitty early drafts (very affectionate)!!

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Mythology: Character A is an immortal being/god and Character B is the only mortal who’s interacted with them in centuries.

This is turning into more of a Trope-tember/tober/vember but that's what happens sometimes. 😆 I had to cut this one off because I was afraid it would go from 1K to 10K really quickly. I may revisit again though if I have more time.

The idea is that Guillermo is an archeologist studying ancient religions, and Nandor is a god who hadn't quite moved on.

The Power of an Offering

Ship: Nandermo (Preslash)

Rating: T

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1010

He was Nandor. Nandor, god of Relentlessness. And if there was one thing Nandor did well, it was…not relent. So as centuries passed, turning his beautiful temple, once the jewel of Al Quolanudar, to ruins, Nandor remained.

Once the world was full of gods and god-like beings. Each served their own purpose in the world, and sometimes depending on what that service was, they were praised by the mortals. Temples built in their honor, wars raged in their names, prayers sobbed into their ears. That was many centuries ago. Most of the so-called ‘well known’ gods were dead now. Killed by the very mortals that claimed to love them. The rest scattered to the wind. Hiding away to lick their wounds. Nandor didn’t know how many of his kind remained.

Nandor missed the days of warriors and kings bowing before his feet in the hope of outlasting the next battle, the next opponent, the next day. However, things weren’t so bad. Every morning, he rearranged the sand piles, trying to straighten up but not dislodge the scorpions or vipers of their homes. By the afternoon, he would go down to the underground library to read from the scrolls that hadn’t crumbled to dust yet. And in the evenings, he found himself staring up in the gaping hole at the center of his temple to look at the stars. It was a meager routine for a god, but Nandor had found immortality had worn on his ability to care. For the first time in his long, long life, he started to wonder what would happen if he just…relented? Not even a full twenty-four hours after having that thought, something new wandered into his life.

“Guillermo! Get over here! I think we found something.” 

Nandor watched the humans that walked on the roof of his temple gather near the hole somehow managing to shine their concentrated torch light down towards him. Nandor hid behind one of his pillars, watching with narrowed eyes. He has dealt with looters before. They quickly and fatally learned the definition of relentless at the hands of the warrior god.

“I think this is it! Let’s get some ropes to lower me down.” Another voice declared.

Nandor slunk back into the shadows, retrieving his scimitar as he waited for his prey to enter his realm. Then he waited, and he waited, and he waited some more. Honestly, he was about to go up there and check things out for himself. What exactly was taking so long? When finally, a form was lowered into his domain. Nandor couldn’t help but stare at the surprisingly wonderfully plump man with some sort of odd glass lens on his face. When Nandor had been offered concubines and human sacrifices that he allowed to live if they served him, he always had a tendency to prefer the heftier ones to the skinny ones.

He still could cut the ropes and watch the human thief fall to his death. However, Nandor found himself hesitating. Perhaps the human didn’t intend to steal from him. He really hoped this human didn’t intend to steal from him.

“I’m down. I’m going to take off the harness now.” The human called up to his human friends after reaching Nandor’s temple.

He undid the ropes surrounding his body, disappointing Nandor to a certain extent, before using his bright torch. Nandor became one with the shadows, keeping himself hidden from the blinding light. Seriously, it was like the human was carrying around a mini sun with that thing.

“Wow,” The human breathed. “The temple of Nandor, the Relentless god.”

Nandor has always called himself ‘god of Relentlessness’ but he supposed that worked too.

“I don’t know if you’re still here, Nandor.” The human continued to speak.

Nandor perked up at being addressed.

“But I thought it would be better to bring an offering just in case. The legends say you’re a warrior god who kills anyone who invades your realm without permission, so I thought I should play it safe.”

Nandor didn’t care for the laughing tone the human seemed to have while making his speech, but he would forgive it under the circumstances. He was about to receive an offering! After all this time. 

“I don’t know what’s traditional in this case, but I do have this loaf of bread…”

The meager meal, that would have been an insult a mere couple of centuries ago, was laid on the offering table. Immediately, Nandor could feel power surge through him again. He released a sigh, extinguishing the overly bright torch as he lit his own surrounding the room. The human jumped in fright shouting to the humans who lowered him in. Well that certainly wouldn’t do. Some of his powers restored, Nandor created a sandstorm. He could hear the humans above shouting and running away, leaving their friend behind. Typical humans. Nandor’s human was frightened though, and Nandor didn’t want him to be. Especially not after receiving such a wonderful gift.

“What is your name, Bread Man?” He purred.

The human whipped his head around, trying to pinpoint Nandor in the shadows. He held his mini torch as one would a sword, ready to attack at any moment. Good! Nandor loved warrior servants. And that’s just what he was going to do. Turn this human into the first of his new disciples. 

“My name is Guillermo. Guillermo de la Cruz.”

“Guillermo.” Nandor tasted the name on his tongue, loving the way it made the human shiver. “Yes, it is decided then.”

“What’s decided?! What’s going on?”

Nandor waited until the human was facing him once more before materializing before him. Guillermo gasped, the torch falling from his numb hands as he stared at Nandor in a state of total reverent shock. At least Nandor assumed it was reverence that caused his mouth to drop and cheeks to pink.

“I have decided…to choose you to serve me. I am Nandor, God of Relentlessness! And you, Guillermo de la Cruz, shall be the greatest warrior ever known once I’m through with you.”

[fantastic-nonsense]

Please may I ask about the "Leave Me and Live" WIP? (You have so many interesting sounding ones!) :)

leave me and live, my beloved and my beloathed. I've been working on this fic for over a year and I just can't seem to make it go anywhere. It's about Jason Todd and his accidental mother/mother figure acquisition habit, written because the boy canonically collects women who either want to mother the shit out of him or could have wanted to (in a better world), but he also loses basically all of them. Each section of the fic is designed to explore Jason’s relationship with one of his moms, canonical mother figures, or a woman who reasonably could have been like a mother to him had fate been kinder and DC wasn't so obsessed with making Jason Daddy Issues™: The Character.

Unfortunately, because of my obsessive need to make this particular fic as canon compliant as possible (within reason) and my desire to work across multiple universes (pre-Crisis, post-Crisis, post-Flashpoint, DC Bombshells, etc), I keep stalling out while writing it because of the sheer amount of research and re-reading I have to do for each section. It's also ended up being much longer than I expected it to be; it's currently ~10k and nowhere near done.

Anyway, here's a very tiny snippet I haven't shared yet, from the Sheila Haywood section:

Somehow, in the midst of his suffering, he locks eyes with Sheila. They stare at each other for a long moment, locked for the barest second in a battle of wills. His mother looks away. Then the crowbar comes down again, and Jason is once again lost to the pain. And Sheila, unable to watch, turns away and lights a cigarette. 

Thanks for asking! 🥰

Ask me about one of my WIPs!

[doom-nerdo-666]

Ultimate Plasma Rifle related ideas post

Most of these stuff is posted elsewhere but i felt like doing an "ultimate" post about ideas related to Doom's Plasma Rifle.

An iconic weapon and i thought of ways to make it interesting, whether as a tool for level design, in combat or even in regards to enemies and resources.

This is stuff that would be cool in a Doom game or at least in someone's mod.

Weapon mod stuff?

For new mods:

A Contra/bullet hell style spread projectile shooter fire.

An energy thing around you that damages enemies near you like a temporary ring of damaging energy.

And for altering pre-existing mods: Heat Blast that can both overheat Plasma projectiles and do a 360 damage radius.

Energy shields on levels

Think of how DE introduced us the idea of Plasma overheating some enemies' energy shields.

Imagine if some levels already came with energy walls that you could also overheat with Plasma, like some sort of new UAC security system.

You could think of this on-level energy shields/walls like a new take on explosive barrels.

But you may also want to keep some of them if they work as walls/barriers that you can use to take over.

There could even be energy platforms/floors so you could also either make them pop or use them for platforming.

In terms of themes, most of them would be UAC themed.

But imagine other themes: Hell (Blue walls of tormented souls and twisted skulls), Sentinel (Blue walls of Argent energy with Sentinel runes) and Urdak (Like the previous one but with Maykr runes?).

Plasma powered machinery/puzzles

Speaking of level design/puzzle stuff (And using weapons on levels like the Meathook's floating targets in TAG2), imagine machinery and things that are powered by Plasma.

See like an open vent or socket, shoot enough Plasma and then something turns on.

Like elevators, energy bridges, moving platforms, even energy traps that can hurt enemies (And Doomguy too), like an extension to those shootable traps in Eternal (And also an extension to shootable switches in general).

This is also comparable to that part in Doom 3 BFGE Lost Mission where you used the Grabber to pick up some energy orb and used it to turn on something to progress.

You can also use stuff charged/powered by the Plasma Rifle as a way to make players use the Microwave Beam.

It’d also tie to plot stuff like the demonic Crucible being a source of energy or the BFG9000 being used to power the 10K one.

Plasma recharge centers

If you're worried that using Plasma to turn off platforms, elevators, traps etc wastes ammo that could've been used in combat, this could also be a good idea.

Wolfenstein TNO had charge centers for the LaserKraftWerk, meaning the weapon has "kind of" infinite ammo, because you could just stand next to a thing, charge your weapon on it and refill your ammo (Even if time is also another thing to think about).

These "recharge centers" could be rare so the player still uses pickups, but because backtracking/exploration is essential to Doom, you can always just walk a little more to get more Plasma.

Plasma Zombieman

A very basic idea for Doom somehow not done.

On one hand, the classic tradition of "they carry the same guns as the player" but this one wouldn't be hitscan.

On another, 2016 mentioned the Plasma Rifle replacing assault rifles and Eternal show ARC soldiers with them.

And then there's the gameplay of the Possessed Soldiers/Blasters.

Basically, imagine these guys shooting Plasma orbs similar to yours, while carrying almost the same weapon and even dropping it as a pickup after death.

Weird that id themselves didn't do this yet.

Plasma Revenant

That one skin that could've been an enemy.

I like to imagine it to have an attack that combines the Possessed Blaster’s mid-air projectile and a traditional homing Rev projectile.

Imagine like a Plasma orb, shot out of one of the Plasma Rev’s cannons, that slowly chases the player and as it chases you, it “draws” a series of other Plasma orbs that stay on mid-air for a while.

This trail of floating plasma orbs is essentially an hazard on its own, because these acts as mines, meaning if the player is close enough, they’ll explode.

But as the main projectile travels, the oldest orbs in the trail it leaves will vanish.

This Rev still shoots basic projectiles.

I also had an idea for an energy trail like the Khan Maykr or that one cut "Gold" version of the Doom Hunter, but that could be given to the next idea here.

Cyber-Prowler

I once wrote about a new take on TAG being "restrictive" where instead, you can't use certain tools against certain enemies or else...

An example was an enemy that gets stronger if you shot them Plasma at, because they're demonic robots.

Maybe their design could be that one robo Prowler from 2016's art book.

Imagine them acting like a slow Prowler but if you feed them Plasma, they act faster.

Not only that, they could shoot more than 3 fireballs at once and any time they teleport in/out, they drop energy floors like a Dreadknight.

Because I always thought it'd be cool if buffed demons get new attacks and not just have numbers go up like speed.

In terms of lore, assume they're made of Immora tech, so even robots can be "pure demons" i guess.

Plasma armor?

I've said something about what if Doom used the energy shield idea from the Doom Bible or something, where you set up different shields for different attack types and besides one resisting Plasma, there's also whether or not these shields require Plasma/cell to begin with.

Or even actual armor that resists against Plasma.

UAC Turret

Somewhat based on the few turrets in D3 and those ones in the Master Level version of Mars Core.

Like UAC Plasma turrets that shoot Plasma orbs that can hurt both player and demons.

Even if one is targetting Doomguy, you can always try and see if a demon shows up in front of the gun.

There could be switches and computers to interact with, to make it so the turrets start targetting demons instead of the player.

Maybe you could be able to destroy them but they take a while to be destroyed (Simply because they're not the focus).

Anyway

These are the ones i thought of so far, related to Plasma.

[50cal-fullauto-astarion]

👑🦈✍️🌻💡

ooh thank you di!! the color palette you picked just scratches my brain so good. <3

👑 Do you like writing short fics or long fics?

i've largely done business in one shots from 1.5-10k words, but i'm always trying to go for long form fics, and i have 3 in the works right now. i just love plotting the evolution of the narrative and characters so much, so i'm hoping that's something i will accomplish by beginning soon!

🦈 Which character is the toughest to write?

hoo, honestly ghost is the toughest for me to write. i have really particular tastes when it comes to how i want to portray him and how i enjoy content featuring him, and it involves a balance of a perpetual and odd halved set of thoughts, like he's somehow dedicated his brain 100% to whatever he's engaged in and a giant spiderweb of information running in the background of his brain at once. plus a like permanently dissociated weirdness to his personality and a crushing weight of presence being near him, like standing next to a black hole. super have not gotten the hang of him yet kjsa.

✍️ What’s your ideal writing setup?

i'm riding a hotstreak shuffle on spotify, drinking hot coffee, with my laptop on a cooling pad in my bed because i'm a filthy bed-writer, and i'm completely unbothered from 7:30pm to 2am, all nice and cool.

🌻 How often do you read your own fics?

hoisting myself on my own petard in the town square here but an embarrassing amount in the two or three days after posting, especially after getting feedback. i like being able to go back over my stuff in a good frame of mind to enjoy that i am skilled at writing. and then five years later i'll reread my stuff when it feels like it's written by a stranger and go, 'WOW. me do that???' sklfj.

💡How many WIPs do you currently have?

i had to go to my docs to count. currently six in active rotation, with the second part of the price 'for the sake of having you near' fic and either a nikto 'your bones singing into mine' fic update or konig x reader post-apoc horror romance first chapter in the chute to fire off next!

thank you again diana!! :D <3

[princeorion]

Cutie Mark Crusaders 10k: The Fallen Star Preview

A strange wind blows through the lands of Equestria. The night itself seems to writhe, to shift as if in pain. The Moon itself seems ready to fall from the spot it's held since the Night first came. Tension in the Equestria Empire rises, fear grows, as the citizens of the Empire turn to their Empress and her friends for answers.

And for the first time in years, the sound of thunder can be heard. A storm, a storm in a sky with no wild clouds, is coming.

I've waited to tease this for 10 years. I fought so hard to not show him, to wait till he finally shows up.

I couldn't. With CMC10k The Lost nearing it's end, yes, it's end. Twilight has her big thing to do, then it's Cobalt, and then it's end of chapter tie in to the present, to this chapter. And with me changing Spitfire's chapter to shorten it, we will be reaching this chapter soon...ish. Quicker than 10 years!

This is the chapter that all the other chapters have been leading to. This is the chapter that starts the timeline forward. No more retelling what was, only what is.

For those who somehow haven't figured out who is coming... I ain't saying anything.

For those that are going, "Oh, it's that [expletive] ... This is very different. Something in the CMC10k timeline didn't happen when it was supposed to, and no one seemed to ask (as if I'd answer! Hahahah!) if [redacted] happened. I've teased him in this series, left hints that he is around. And yet, he never came. He came for one timeline and yet for CMC10k... Well.

Why am I typing all this!? I'm not supposed to answer things, I never answer things! Arrrrgh!

Next Week: Was gonna be Rightful Heir, but I remembered I've got another series that could use an update.

Links Below:

Cutie Mark Crusaders 10k: The Lost 207

CMC 10k Chapter 1: Intro Cover CMC 10k Chapter 2: Lulamoon Cover CMC 10k: Friend or Foe Cover CMC 10k: Elements of Friendship cover CMC 10k: The Light of Despair Cover The Rightful Heir: Issue 1 Cover

Special Thanks for my Patreon backers:

The Black Pharaoh 

Null 

[satorulovebot]

cursed seas chapter two | help wanted!

pairing — gojou satoru x fem!reader

genre —heavy angst, pirate au, 18+ 

summary — all your life you’ve been taught to hate pirates and the sins they have committed against god. you've always strived to be a good citizen upholding the law and avoiding the lawless, but when you meet the infamous captain gojou, known to be dangerous and cunning, you realize that survival in this world often requires sacrifices. sometimes, that sacrifice is your sanity.

word count — 10k

warnings — 18+, stalking/harassment, alcohol use, suggestive content, weapon usage, murder, + please read at your own discretion

author's notes — tried out this new theme. lowkey looks like ass but i don’t want to fix it. anyway enough of my bitching and moaning here’s another chapter of cursed seas. she’s not the sharpest tool in the shed btw and again there is murder in this chapter. please tread carefully my pirates :)

prev. the rouge captain | next. long story short

general masterlist -> series masterlist

The sun was already high in the sky when you stepped out of your home and onto the bustling streets of the city. The marketplace was filled with vendors and people going about their daily activities. You planned to take a trip down to the docks to see if you could find anyone willing to help you. You weren’t the most optimistic about the idea, but it would have to do for now.

The memory of the man from the ball still lingered in your mind. You had expected that the news of pirates of all people—crashing the legendary Merchant's ball would be the talk of the town, but to your surprise, there had been nothing. It was clear that the events that had taken place, just two days ago, had been kept quiet. Somehow. But you pushed those thoughts aside and focused on your main concern. Finding someone who would be willing to help you.

You were hoping and praying to any god that you would not have to see that man with the white hair anytime soon and the docks seemed like a place a man like him would be. The more you think about him, the more you feel like you have seen his face somewhere, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

As you made your way through the crowded marketplace you could hear the vendors shouting out to anyone that would listen, the smell of fresh produce, and the occasional clink of coins. It was a typical day in Elysport, yet you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that you have had ever since that night at the ball.

Every step you took toward the docks was weighed down by the memory of that man. The image of his striking white hair and the utter insanity in his eyes refused to leave your mind. It was frustrating, trying to recall where you might have seen him before, but every time you came close to remembering, the thought slipped away like sand through your fingers. You shook your head, trying to focus on your current objective: finding a crew.

As you neared the docks, the air grew saltier, and the distinct scent of the sea mixed with the briny odor of fish was present. The sound of seagulls could be heard crying overhead mixed with the creaking of wooden ships and the shouts of sailors. You scanned the area, your eyes searching for anyone who might fit the bill—a capable sailor or perhaps in the worst-case scenario a seasoned pirate—someone with the skills and knowledge to help you.

Looking around, you saw all kinds of sailors young and old. But there was something strange about one of them. He was staring right at you and he had the same look in his eye that the man two nights ago did. He had black hair that was half up half down, a navy blue bandana, and a small hoop earring in his left ear. You paid no mind to it because being stared at by weird men is a normal occurrence for you.

Your gaze fell on a group of rugged-looking men huddled together near one of the larger ships. Approaching them felt risky, but your options were limited. You took a deep breath and began walking towards them. One of the men, a tall figure with a missing hand and a patch over one eye, noticed you approaching their group. With a raised eyebrow, he asked, “What’s a lass like you doing around here?” he asked, his voice rough but not unkind.

You hesitated for a moment before replying, “I’m looking for someone who can help me find a crew. I have… a job that needs doing.”

The man exchanged glances with his companions, who murmured among themselves. “A job, eh?” he repeated, “And what kind of job might that be?”

You bit your lip, debating how much to reveal. Finally, you decided to keep it vague. “It’s a task the requires experienced sailors who aren’t afraid to take risks. It could be dangerous.”

The man chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Dangerous tasks are our specialty. But nothing comes for free, lass. What’s in it for us?”

“I have a map,” you replied, lowering your voice. “It leads to something valuable. Very valuable.”

The man’s interest was piqued, and the others leaned in closer, eager to hear more. “A map, you say? Well now, that does sound intriguing. But how do we know you’re not just spinning tales?”

You reached into your bag and carefully pulled out the map, keeping it partially concealed. “This is all the proof I can offer for now,” you said, “If you’re interested, we can discuss terms.”

The man eyed the map with keen interest before nodding. “Alright, you’ve got our attention. Meet us at the tavern tonight, and we’ll talk more. But be warned, lass—if you’re wasting our time, you won’t like the consequences.”

You nodded, feeling relieved. “I understand. I’ll be there.”

As you turned to leave, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched. The docks were busy, but there was something about the way the hairs on the back of your neck stood up that made you uneasy. You cast a glance around, but no one seemed to be paying any attention to you. Still, the sensation lingered and you were eager to put some distance between yourself and the docks.

Making your way back through the marketplace, you tried to push aside the worry that had taken root in your mind. The meeting tonight could be the first step toward finding a crew and setting sail. But even as you tried to focus on the task at hand, the memory of the man with white hair reappeared, more vivid than before.

As night fell, the city’s atmosphere shifted. The marketplace grew quieter, the vibrant energy of the day giving way to a calm environment. You decided that you needed to prepare for the meeting at the tavern, so you packed a small bag with the essentials: the map, a few coins, and a dagger—just in case. The dagger was a gift from your father, one you hadn’t had to use yet, but tonight might be different.

You wrapped yourself in a cloak and stepped out into the cool night air. The streets were less crowded now, with only a few stragglers making their way home or heading to the taverns for a late-night drink. You kept to the shadows, avoiding eye contact with anyone who passed by. This meeting could change everything, for better or worse.

When you reached the tavern its wooden sign was creaking in the breeze, and you hesitated at the door. You could hear the sound of raucous laughter and the sound of cheers from outside. Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The tavern was dimly lit, with a haze of smoke hanging in the air. The scent of stale ale and sweat made you scrunch your nose, but you forced yourself to move forward, scanning the room for the men you had spoken to earlier. You eventually spotted them seated at a table near the back.

You made your way over to them, weaving through the patrons of the tavern. The tall man with the eye patch noticed you first, nodding in your direction. “You’re here,” was all he said.

“I’m here,” you confirmed, taking a seat across from him. The other men at the table were watching you closely, their expressions unreadable.

“Let’s get down to business then,” the man said, leaning forward. “Tell us more about this map of yours. Where does it lead?”

You hesitated for a moment before unfolding the map on the table. The men leaned in, their eyes scanning the intricate details of the map.“It leads to an island,” you began, pointing to the mark on the map. “An island that’s said to hold unimaginable riches.” 

That wasn’t the only thing the island held, but they didn’t need to know that information.

The men exchanged glances, their interest piqued. “And how did you come by this map?” one of them asked.

“It was passed down to me,” you lied, keeping your voice steady. “My father was a sailor who spent his life searching for this island. He never found it, but he believed it was real, and he passed the map on to me before he died.”

The men seemed to accept your story, at least for now. The tall man with the eye patch leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin. “And what do you want from us?”

“I need a crew,” you replied. “Sailors who know the seas, who aren’t afraid of the risks involved. I’ll share the treasure with you if we find it, but I need your help to get there.”

The men murmured among themselves, weighing their options. Finally, the tall man nodded. “Alright, we’re in. But remember this, lass—if you’re leading us into a trap, you won’t live to see the treasure.”

“I understand. But I assure you, this treasure is real. And I intend to find it.”

With the deal struck you knew there was no turning back now. You had a crew, or at least the beginnings of one, and a map. But as you left the tavern, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched again, that someone was following your every move.

The streets were nearly empty as you made your way back home, the only sound being the soft echo of your footsteps against the cobblestones. You quickened your pace, your hand instinctively moving to the dagger at your side. The feeling of being watched was growing stronger and you couldn’t ignore it any longer.

Just as you turned a corner, you felt a presence behind you. Before you could react, a strong hand clamped down on your shoulder, spinning you around. You gasped, instinctively reaching for your dagger, but the sight of who stood before you made your blood run cold.

It was him—the man with the white hair.

He stood there, a dangerous smile playing on his lips, he had a wild almost predatory look in his eyes. You could see now that his face was more than just familiar—it was infamous.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you locked eyes with the man standing before you, the dim streetlight barely illuminating his face. A shiver ran down your spine as you instinctively took a step back, your hand gripping the dagger at your side.

"Going somewhere?" His voice was smooth. It was almost teasing, but there was an underlying threat that made your blood run cold.

You tried to maintain your composure, but the intensity of his gaze made it nearly impossible. "W-what do you want?" you managed to ask, your voice trembling slightly despite your efforts to keep it steady.

He tilted his head slightly, his smile widening. "Oh, I think you know what I want," he replied, taking a step closer. "You’ve been quite the busy little bee, haven’t you? That map of yours has caused quite a stir."

"I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never showed them the map," you lied and you tried to sound convincing, but the way his smile only grew wider told you he wasn’t buying it.

He took another step forward, his hand still resting casually on the hilt of the sword at his side. "Come now, there’s no need for lies between us," he said, his voice almost soothing in its softness. "I know you have the map. And I know you’ve been talking to some rather unsavory people about it."

Your mind raced, trying to figure out your next move. Running seemed futile—he would catch you in an instant, and you doubted you would fare any better in a fight. The only thing you could do was stall for time, though you weren’t sure what good it would do. "You never answered my question the other night! What do you want with the map?" you asked, trying to keep him talking.

He let out a soft chuckle, amused by your question. "What does anyone want with a treasure map? I want what’s at the end of it, of course. And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get it."

There was no mistaking the threat in his tone now, and you realized that there was no talking your way out of this. "You’re not going to find the treasure," you said, hoping to provoke him, to get him to make a mistake.

But he only smiled, his expression turning cold and calculating. "Oh, I think I will," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "But first, I need to tie up a few loose ends."

Before you could react, he moved with lightning speed, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you close. The dagger slipped from your grasp, clattering to the ground as you struggled to free yourself from his iron grip. "Let go of me!" you shouted, panic rising in your chest.

But he only tightened his hold, his smile fading as his eyes darkened. "You’re coming with me," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "There are some people I need to have a little chat with—and you’re going to watch."

With that, he began dragging you down the narrow streets, his grip unrelenting despite your attempts to break free. Your heart pounded in your ears as you were forced to follow him, the dagger you had so carefully packed now lying useless on the ground behind you.

You didn’t know where he was taking you, but you had a feeling that it had something to do with the men you had spoken to earlier.

The narrow alleyways twisted and turned, leading you both through the darkest corners of Elysport. Despite your fear, you took in your surroundings to try and remember a way out if the opportunity arose. But the way the white-haired man moved left you with little time to think, let alone plan an escape.

Before long, the two of you reached the outskirts of the docks, where the tavern from earlier came into view. It was quieter now, the late-night celebrations had died down, leaving only a few people loitering outside. The man with the white hair stopped suddenly, pulling you to a halt beside him.

His gaze shifted to the tavern, his expression darkening with a mix of disdain and anticipation. "Wait here," he commanded, releasing your wrist but positioning himself between you and the only exit.

Without another word, he strode toward the tavern entrance. Your heart hammered as you watched him disappear inside, your body frozen in place. What was he planning to do? The men inside had no idea what was coming, and you felt a pang of guilt for leading them into this mess.

But there was no time to dwell on that now. You had to do something—anything—to prevent what was about to happen. Yet, even as you went to follow him inside, the door swung open, and the man emerged, dragging one of the sailors behind him.

It was the tall man with the eye patch, the one who had seemed so confident and in control earlier. Now, he looked terrified, struggling weakly against the iron grip that held him.

The white-haired man cast a glance back at you. "Watch closely," he said, his voice low, "This is what happens to those who try to cheat me."

With a swift motion, he flung the sailor to the ground, drawing his sword in one fluid movement. The sailor scrambled to his feet, fear etched onto his face as he backed away, his hands raised in a futile attempt to protect himself.

"Please," the sailor begged, his voice trembling. "I don’t know what you want, but I swear, I’ll give you whatever you’re after. Just don’t kill me."

But the white-haired man was unmoved. "You made a mistake, thinking you could bargain with something that doesn’t belong to you," he said coldly, advancing on the sailor. "You should have known better than to cross me."

Before the sailor could respond, the man lunged forward, his sword flashing in the dim light. You gasped, turning away as the blade struck, but the sickening sound of steel cutting through flesh reached your ears, making you feel nauseous.

When you dared to look again, the sailor was crumpled on the ground, blood pooling beneath him. The white-haired man stood over him, his expression unreadable as he wiped the blood from his sword with a piece of cloth. His movements were calm as if this were just another routine task for him.

He turned to face you, and you couldn’t suppress the shudder that ran through you at the sight of him. His eyes, which had seemed almost playful before, now glowed with a dangerous intensity that made your blood run cold.

"Let that be a lesson to you," he said, "I don’t take kindly to betrayal. And if you think you can outsmart me, you’ll end up just like him."

He gestured to the lifeless body at his feet, and you swallowed hard, the reality of your situation crashing down on you. This man—whoever he was—was not to be messed with. He was unpredictable and utterly ruthless.

Your thoughts raced as you tried to make sense of everything that had just happened. The man at your feet had been your one hope of assembling a crew, and now he was dead. The others in the tavern might still be alive, but if this white-haired man had anything to say about it, they wouldn’t be for long.

You had to act fast, but you were trapped. Your mind screamed at you to run, to escape while you still could, but your legs refused to move. 

He sheathed his sword, taking a step closer to you. "Now," he said, his tone suddenly shifting to something almost lighthearted, "I think it’s time we had a proper introduction, don’t you?"

You stared at him, too shocked to respond. He smiled again, that same smile from the ball.

"The name’s Gojou Satoru," he said, his voice dripping with confidence. "Captain Gojou, to be precise. And you, my dear, are in way over your little head."

Your breath hitched as the realization hit you. This was the infamous Captain Gojou, the man whose name struck fear into the hearts of sailors and pirates alike. The man who had haunted your thoughts since the ball, the one who had promised to find you no matter where you went—and now he had.

Even as the fear threatened to overwhelm you, there was another emotion bubbling beneath the surface—anger. Anger at everything that had happened, at this man who had turned your life upside down, and at yourself for being so helpless.

"What do you want from me?" you asked, your voice firmer than you felt.

Gojou’s smile widened, "I want what you want," he said simply. "The treasure. The map. Everything. But more than that," he added, his tone darkening, "I want you to understand that I’m the one in control now."

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure. "You think you can just take it all for yourself?"

Gojou tilted his head slightly as if considering your words. "Yes," he replied, his tone casual, as if the answer was obvious. "And you’re going to help me."

The audacity of this man!

"And why would I do that?" you shot back. "You think I’d just hand everything over to you after what you just did?"

"Because," he said, stepping closer until he was only inches away from you, "if you don’t, you’ll end up like him."

He gestured to the lifeless body of the sailor without even looking at it as if it were nothing more than a piece of trash. The sight of it—the blood, the stillness—made your stomach turn, but you refused to show any sign of weakness.

"You’re a monster," you spat.

Gojou’s smile faded slightly, “Perhaps," he said softly, "But I get what I want. And right now, what I want is for you to cooperate."

"And if I don’t?"

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Then I’ll find other ways to make you," he whispered.

You can’t just force me into this!” you shouted, "There are others who know about the map. If anything happens to me, they’ll—"

"They’ll what?" Gojou interrupted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Come after me? Try to stop me? They won’t get the chance."

He straightened up, looking down at you. "But you’re smart enough to know that, aren’t you? You know no one can help you now. No one but me."

The truth of his words hit you like a ton of bricks. He was right—there was no one else. The men you had spoken to earlier were either dead or too scared to cross him. You were alone, and he knew it.

But you weren’t ready to give up yet. You might not be able to fight him, but you could still try to outsmart him. "Fine," you said, your voice cold. "I’ll help you. But on one condition."

Gojou raised an eyebrow, "Oh? And what’s that?"

"You let me keep my share of the treasure," you said, the words coming out a little more confident. "I won’t be your lackey, and I won’t just hand everything over. If I’m going to help you, I want something in return."

For a moment, Gojou said nothing, simply staring at you with those unnerving blue eyes. Then, to your surprise, he chuckled. "You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that."

He seemed to consider your proposition for a moment, then nodded. "Alright," he said finally. "You can have your share—if you survive long enough to claim it."

"Deal," you said, extending your hand.

Gojou looked at your hand for a moment, then grasped it firmly. His grip was strong, almost crushing, but you didn’t flinch. "Welcome to the crew," he said with a smirk, releasing your hand.

As Gojou turned and walked away, you couldn’t help but glance down at the sailor’s lifeless body once more. You hadn’t wanted any of this, but now that you were in it, you had to survive. And if that meant working with Gojou, then so be it.

But you silently vowed that you would find a way out. You would find a way to get the treasure, escape Gojou’s grasp, and make sure that no one else had to die because of it. 

Gojou might think he had the upper hand, but you weren’t going to let him control you. Not forever.

The night was far from over, and as you walked through the darkened streets. With every step, you knew that you would never forget the sight of Gojou killing that man—the cold, calculated way he had taken his life without a second thought.

Whatever happened next, you were in it now. And there was no turning back.

The night air was thick with the smell of salt and fish from the harbor as Gojou led you back toward the docks. The streets had emptied, leaving only the occasional flicker of a lantern in a nearby window and the distant sound of waves crashing against the pier. 

As you approached the docks, Gojou slowed his pace, his gaze scanning the area. He seemed at ease as if the murder he had just committed was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. It was clear that this was a man who was used to getting what he wanted, no matter the cost.

Finally, he stopped in front of a small building near the water’s edge. The structure was plain, with no sign or markings to indicate what it was, but the dim light seeping through the cracks in the shutters told you it was still open for business.

Gojou turned to you, his expression as unreadable as ever. “Wait here,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I have some business to attend to.”

You nodded, though you couldn’t help but wonder what kind of “business” he was referring to. But before you could ask, he was already walking toward the building, his long coat billowing behind him in the wind.

You watched as he pushed open the door and disappeared inside, leaving you alone in the silence of the night. The door creaked shut behind him, and you were left standing in the darkness, leaving you with the distant sound of the ocean.

Inside the building, Gojou was greeted by the warm glow of candlelight and the soft murmur of voices. The interior was modest but well-kept, with rich, dark wood furnishings and plush cushions strewn across the floor. The scent of incense hung in the air, mingling with the subtle perfume of the women who lingered nearby.

The brothel’s madam, a woman in her late forties with sharp eyes and a knowing smile approached him. She was dressed in a silk robe that clung to her figure with her breasts spilling out and her hair piled high atop her head in an elaborate style that spoke of years spent mastering her craft.

“Captain Gojou,” she purred, “What a pleasant surprise. It’s been too long.”

Gojou offered her a charming smile, “Madam Iris,” he greeted, his tone polite but distant. “I’ve had a busy night, and I’m in need of a… distraction.”

The madam’s smile widened, and she gestured toward the stairs leading to the upper floors. “Of course, Captain. We have just the thing to help you unwind.”

As Gojou walked up the stairs, he took in the familiar sights and sounds of the brothel. The laughter of women and their companions, the low murmur of conversation, the soft moans of women, the soft rustle of silk and lace—it was all a part of the carefully curated atmosphere that Madam Iris had cultivated over the years. It was a place where men could forget their troubles, if only for a little while.

At the top of the stairs, a young woman awaited him. She was delicate and beautiful, with long, dark hair and wide, doe-like eyes. She curtsied as he approached, her movements graceful and practiced. “Captain,” she greeted him, her voice barely above a whisper. “Madam Iris said you might like some company.”

Gojou studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“Lila,” she replied, her gaze flickering up to meet his before quickly darting away.

“Lila,” he repeated, tasting the name on his tongue. He reached out, gently tilting her chin up so that she was forced to meet his eyes. “You’ll do.”

He released her and gestured for her to lead the way. Lila nodded and turned, guiding him down the hallway to a private room. The room was small but comfortable, with a large bed draped in silk sheets and a low table set with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

Once inside, Gojou shrugged off his coat and tossed it onto a nearby chair. He moved the way a man who had done this countless times before would.

Lila poured them each a glass of wine, her hands steady despite the nervous energy that seemed to buzz around her. She handed him a glass, and he took it, his fingers brushing against hers for the briefest of moments.

“You seem tense,” he observed, taking a sip of the wine.

Lila hesitated, then nodded. “It’s just… you’ve got a reputation, Captain.”

Gojou raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “Do I, now?”

She nodded again, her gaze fixed on the floor. “People talk, you know. They say you’re dangerous.”

“Is that so?” Gojou set the glass down on the table and stepped closer to her. “And does that frighten you?”

Lila’s breath hitched slightly, but she didn’t back away. “Should it?”

He didn’t answer right away, instead taking a moment to study her, to take in the way she stood before him—nervous, yet curious. Finally, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Only if you give me a reason,” he murmured.

For a moment, they stood in silence, the tension between them thick. Then, with a soft sigh, Lila reached up and placed her hand on his chest, her touch tentative. “I won’t,” she whispered.

Gojou smiled, though there was something predatory in the way his eyes darkened. “Good girl.”

With that, he pulled her closer, his grip firm. Lila responded instinctively, her body melting against his as if she had done this a thousand times before. It was all part of the game—one she had been trained to play from a young age. But there was something different about Gojou, something that made her heart race in a way she hadn’t expected.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “You can relax, Lila. I’m not here to hurt you.”

The words were meant to be comforting, but there was an underlying edge to them that sent a shiver down her spine. She knew better than to let her guard down completely, but for now, she would play along.

Lila tilted her head up, offering him a tentative smile. “Then what are you here for, Captain?”

Gojou’s smile widened, and he leaned in, capturing her lips with his in a hungry kiss. As his hands roamed over her body, she found herself responding to his touch, her initial fear melting away under the heat of his gaze.

For a moment, the world outside the brothel disappeared. In that small, candlelit room, there was only the two of them, locked in a dance as old as time itself.

But even as Gojou lost himself in the moment, he knew what he was doing, and knew how to take what he wanted while keeping others at arm’s length. Lila might be beautiful and skilled, but she was just a temporary distraction—one he could enjoy before the real work began.

When their lips finally parted, Gojou looked down at her, “I’m here for a good time.”

Lila smiled, though there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. She knew better than to expect anything more from a man like him. “Then I hope I can give you that,” she whispered.

Gojou didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled her onto the bed with him as she began removing his shirt and breeches. As they lost themselves in the moment, the outside world seemed to disappear, leaving only the soft sounds of their breathing and the flicker of candlelight against the walls.

But no matter how much he tried to distract himself, the thoughts of the treasure, the map, and the girl waiting outside the brothel lingered in the back of his mind. He had plans—big plans—and nothing, not even a night of pleasure, could make him forget that.

When morning came, Gojou left the brothel without a second glance. Lila watched him go from the window of the small room, a longing look in her eyes. She knew she would likely never see him again, but that was the way of things in her world.

As Gojou stepped out into the early morning light, the smell of the ocean and the sound of the docks greeted him like an old friend. He breathed it in, letting the cool air clear his mind. There was work to be done, and now that he was satisfied, he was ready to face whatever the day had in store.

He couldn’t help but smirk at the thought of you waiting for him outside the brothel. You had no idea what you were getting yourself into, but that was what made the game so much fun.

Gojou adjusted his coat, the fabric settling around his shoulders like a second skin and began to walk toward the docks where you were waiting. And he couldn’t wait to see how it would all play out.

The morning sun rose higher in the sky, painting the harbor with a golden hue as you made your way back to the docks. That asshole had told you to, “stay there” and never came back out and so you decided to head home and come back the next day with a packed bag.

As you approached the gangplank, a figure stepped into your path. The man was tall and broad-shouldered with a stoic expression.

“State your business,” he demanded, his voice low.

“I’m here to join the crew, I believe Captain Gojou should have mentioned me.”

The man’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he gave a curt nod. “Name’s Nanami,” he said, stepping aside to allow you to pass. “Welcome aboard.”

As you took in your surroundings, another figure approached, his demeanor more relaxed. Then it hit you, he was the man staring at you the other day! You should have known he worked for Captain Gojou with that creep behavior.

He was tall, with long, dark hair that was half up half down. “You must be the new recruit,” he said, a small smile playing on his lips. “I’m Getou. The captain mentioned we’d be having a new addition.”

You nodded, offering a small smile in return. “It’s nice to meet you, Getou.”

Getou gestured for you to follow him as he led you further onto the deck. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to the rest of the crew.”

Getou led you to a group gathered near the ship’s wheel, their conversation halting as you approached. They turned to face you with guarded expressions.

“This is Shokou,” Getou said, nodding toward a woman with short, tousled hair and a cigarette dangling from her lips. Her sharp eyes raked over you, seemingly assessing your worth.

“Welcome,” she said simply, her voice roughened by years of smoking and perhaps too many nights spent at sea.

Next, Getou pointed to a man standing off to the side, his arms crossed over his broad chest. He was tall and muscular, with a scar running down the side of his mouth.

“That’s Toji,” Getou continued. “He’s the muscle around here.”

Toji’s gaze narrowed as he began to speak, “Hope you know what you’re getting into.”

“I do,” you replied, though you weren’t entirely sure you believed it yourself.

“And these two,” Getou said, gesturing toward a pair of younger men, “are Yuuji and Yuuta. Don’t let their age fool you—they’re damn good at what they do.”

Yuuji grinned at you, his boyish charm instantly putting you at ease. “Hey there! Glad to have you aboard.”

Yuuta, on the other hand, was more reserved. He nodded politely but remained silent, his gaze flickering between you and the others as if trying to gauge how you fit into this dynamic.

“And finally,” Getou said, his tone shifting slightly, “this is Ino. He’s our lookout.”

You glanced up to see a man perched high above the deck, sitting casually on one of the ship’s crossbeams. He gave you a cheeky grin and a two-fingered salute. “Nice to meet you!” he called down.

Before you could respond, a young boy appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. His dark hair was tousled, and his blue eyes were sharp.

“Who’s this?” the boy asked, his tone direct.

Getou smiled down at him before speaking again, “This is our new crewmember, Megumi. She’ll be joining us on our next voyage.”

Megumi’s eyes narrowed slightly as he looked you over. Finally, he nodded, as if coming to a decision. “Fine,” he said, “Just don’t slow us down.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the boy’s bluntness. “I’ll do my best.”

“Don’t mind Megumi,” Getou said with a chuckle. “He’s a good kid, just a bit rough around the edges.”

Before you could reply, a familiar voice rang out from behind you, making your heart skip a beat. “What’s all this fuss about?”

You turned to see Gojou striding across the deck. His white hair caught the sunlight, making him look almost ethereal in the morning light. 

“Ah, Captain,” Getou said with a nod, his tone respectful. “Just introducing our new crewmember.”

Gojou’s gaze flicked to you, and a slow smile spread across his face. “Well, well, if it isn’t my little map-keeper,” he drawled, clearly enjoying the way your cheeks flushed at the nickname.

The crew exchanged glances, intrigued by the dynamic between you and their captain. It was clear that Gojou held the authority among them, but there was also something more—a bond that went beyond the usual captain-crew relationship.

Gojou sauntered over to you, his gaze never leaving yours. “I trust you’re ready for what’s to come?”

You met his gaze head-on, refusing to let him see the doubt that gnawed at your insides. “I am.”

His smile widened, “Good. Then let’s not waste any more time.”

But as he turned to address the crew, you caught a glimpse of Getou watching you. Something was unsettling in his gaze, something that made your pulse quicken. He didn’t threaten you outright, but his presence alone was enough to keep you on edge.

“We set sail at first light tomorrow,” Gojou announced. “Make sure everything is in order by then. We’ve got a long journey ahead of us.”

The crew nodded in unison. When Gojou gave an order, it was clear that it would be followed without question.

As the crew began to disperse, Gojou lingered for a moment, his gaze once again settling on you. “Remember,” he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear, “you’re under my protection now. Don’t do anything to make me regret that.”

“Understood.”

Before you could say more, Getou stepped closer, “You know,” he began, “the captain isn’t the only one you should be careful around. We all have our own… quirks.”

You swallowed hard, unsure how to respond to his cryptic words. There was something about Getou that made you feel like you were constantly walking on eggshells—always one misstep away from falling into something dangerous. But you also sensed a strange camaraderie between him and Gojou, one that wasn’t easily understood by outsiders. It was as if they were two sides of the same coin.

Getou’s eyes bore into you though his smile never reached them. “You’ve got a lot to learn,” he said softly, almost as if he were speaking to himself. “But don’t worry. We’ll make sure you’re... properly educated.”

His words sent a chill down your spine, but before you could respond, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing alone on the deck. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. 

As you tried to gather your thoughts, Shokou approached, her cigarette hanging loosely from her lips. She leaned against the railing beside you, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “Don’t let them get to you,” she said, her voice calm and steady. “They like to play mind games, especially with new recruits. It’s how they test you.”

You glanced at her, surprised by her comment “Is it always like this?” your voice barely above a whisper.

Shokou took a drag from her cigarette, exhaling a cloud of smoke before answering. “Pretty much,” she replied with a shrug. “But you’ll get used to it. Or you won’t. Either way, you’ll figure out how to survive. Just keep your wits about you, and don’t show fear. They respect strength.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said, forcing a small smile.

Shokou gave you a brief nod before pushing away from the railing. “Good. We’ll see how you fare when we’re out at sea.” With that, she turned and headed back to her duties, leaving you alone once again.

Despite his lighthearted nature, it was clear that Yuuji was highly skilled in his duties. He moved with the confidence of someone who had spent years at sea, and his knowledge of the ship was impressive. His easygoing demeanor helped to ease some of the tension that had been building within you, and you found yourself relaxing slightly in his presence.

“So, what made you decide to join up with us?” Yuuji asked as he showed you how to tie a particularly complex knot. “It’s not every day we get someone new on board, especially someone like you.”

You hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. “Let’s just say I’m looking for something,” you replied carefully. “And I believe this crew can help me find it.”

Yuuji raised an eyebrow, intrigued by your vague answer. “Well, whatever it is, you’ve got a good group to back you up,” he said with a grin. “Just be ready for anything. Life on this ship is never boring.”

You smiled, grateful for his friendliness. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As the day progressed, you found yourself slowly beginning to acclimate to the ship’s rhythm. The crew was a motley assortment of individuals, each with their own quirks and personalities, but they all shared a common goal—to survive and thrive in a world that sought to destroy them.

Nanami, with his stoic demeanor, kept a watchful eye on the crew, ensuring that everything ran smoothly. Toji, though intimidating, seemed to have a grudging respect for those who prove

Eventually, you found yourself drawn to the stern of the ship, where the vast expanse of the sea stretched out before you. The waves lapped gently against the hull, their rhythmic motion almost soothing in its constancy. You leaned against the railing, letting the cool sea breeze wash over you as you tried to calm your racing thoughts.

But the peace was short-lived.

“Lost in thought?”

You jumped at the sound of Getou’s voice, whipping around to find him standing just a few feet away. He was leaning casually against the railing, his arms crossed over his chest, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, though the amusement in his eyes suggested otherwise.

You forced yourself to relax, though your heart was still pounding. “I was just… thinking,” you replied, hating how weak your voice sounded.

Getou’s smile widened, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. “Thinking can be dangerous out here,” he said softly, his tone almost conspiratorial. “You never know what might come of it.”

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

For a moment, there was a tense silence between you, the air thick with unspoken tension. Getou’s gaze was intense, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was searching for something—some crack in your armor, some sign of weakness.

Finally, he pushed away from the railing, his smile fading into something more serious. “We all have our reasons for being here,” he said quietly. “Some of us are running from something, others are searching for something. But whatever the case, we’re all bound by the same fate.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. You could sense the darkness that lurked beneath his calm exterior, the madness that he kept carefully contained. And yet, there was also a strange sense of camaraderie, as if he was offering you a glimpse into the twisted reality that bound them all together.

Before you could respond, Getou straightened up, his usual carefree demeanor returning as he flashed you a grin. “Well, I’ll leave you to your thoughts,” he said with a wink. “Just remember—out here, nothing is as it seems.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you alone with your thoughts once again. But this time, the weight of his words pressed down on you, making it harder to breathe. You had known from the start that joining this crew would be dangerous, but now, you were beginning to understand just how deep that danger ran.

As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the deck, you realized that this was only the beginning. The true test lay ahead, and you would need every ounce of strength and resolve to survive what was to come.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the journey ahead. You had come this far, and there was no turning back now. No matter what challenges awaited you, you were determined to see this through to the end.

And as the ship’s crew prepared for the night, you couldn’t help but wonder what new horrors the darkness would bring.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting the deck in a warm, golden glow. The crew moved with a sense of purpose, their faces hardened by years at sea. You had spent the day learning the ship's ropes, trying to familiarize yourself with the various tasks that would soon become part of your daily routine. But despite the activity around you, you couldn’t shake the tension that hung in the air, the unspoken understanding that this crew was different, that you were now part of something far more dangerous than you had imagined.

Gojou was nowhere to be seen, and while a part of you was relieved, another part of you couldn’t help but feel uneasy. His presence, or lack thereof, cast a shadow over the crew. Everyone was on edge, waiting for his next unpredictable move. It was clear that his control over the crew was absolute, his authority unquestioned, but it was also clear that this control was maintained through fear and the sheer force of his personality.

You spent the next few hours familiarizing yourself with the ship, trying to learn the ropes—both figuratively and literally. Yuuji, with his infectious enthusiasm, took it upon himself to show you around, explaining the various parts of the ship and introducing you to some of the other crew members.

As night fell, the crew gathered around a makeshift table on the deck, sharing stories and rations. You joined them, trying to blend in, but you could feel the tension in their ir at your presence. Getou sat across from you, his gaze never leaving your face. It was unsettling, to say the least.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, his voice low and filled with a dark amusement. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Just trying to get used to everything,” you grimaced.

“You’ll get used to it, or you’ll go mad trying. Either way, it’ll be interesting to see how you fare.”

The crew’s laughter and banter faded into the background as you focused on Getou’s words. And you would find out just what kind of person Gojou Satoru really was, even if it meant facing the darkness within yourself.

By the time dawn broke the sky was painting the sky with streaks of pink and gold, you had barely slept at all. But there was no time to dwell on your fears. As you climbed out of your bunk and stepped onto the deck, you were greeted by the sight of the crew already hard at work. The air was cool and crisp, the scent of salt and seaweed filling your lungs as you took a deep breath and tried to steady your nerves.

You were determined to prove yourself, to show the crew—and yourself—that you had what it took to survive in this world. But as you made your way across the deck, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched. Again. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, and you glanced around, searching for the source of the unease.

It didn’t take long to find it.

Standing near the bow of the ship, his tall figure silhouetted against the rising sun, was Gojou Satoru. He was watching you with an expression that was impossible to read. For a moment, you were frozen in place, caught in his gaze like a moth trapped in a spider’s web.

Then, with a casual wave of his hand, Gojou beckoned you over.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you forced yourself to move, your legs carrying you toward him as if they had a mind of their own. The deck seemed to stretch out endlessly before you, every step heavy with the weight of your fear and uncertainty.

When you finally reached him, Gojou smiled—a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Good morning,” he said, “Sleep well?”

You hesitated, unsure of how to respond. The truth was that you hadn’t slept well at all, but something told you that admitting that would only amuse him. So instead, you simply nodded, forcing yourself to meet his gaze.

“Good,” Gojou said, “Because we’ve got a lot to do today, and I need everyone at their best.”

He gestured to the horizon, where a small, rocky island was just beginning to come into view. It was shrouded in mist, its jagged cliffs rising up like the teeth of some ancient beast. “That’s our destination for today,” he explained. “We’ll be making landfall in a few hours. And I expect you to be ready.”

By mid-morning, the ship was closing in on the island, its rocky shores growing larger with each passing minute. The mist clung to the cliffs, giving the place an eerie, otherworldly quality, and the crew fell silent as they worked, their usual banter replaced by a tense, almost reverent quiet.

You found yourself standing at the rail, staring out at the island as it loomed closer and closer. But before you could dwell too much on the uncertainty of what lay ahead, a voice broke through the silence, low and steady.

“First time heading to an island like this?” You turned to find Nanami standing beside you. 

“Yes,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never been anywhere like this before.”

Nanami nodded, his gaze still fixed on the horizon. “Most haven’t,” he said. “These places... they’re different. Dangerous. But they’re also where the greatest treasures are found. That’s why we’re here.”

“Stick close to the crew,” Nanami advised, his tone more serious than you had ever heard it. “Trust your instincts, but also trust the people around you. We’ve been through this before, and we know what to expect. But that doesn’t mean it will be easy.”

The island was just ahead, its cliffs towering over the ship and the crew was already preparing to lower the anchor. As the ship drew closer, the mist began to lift, revealing more of the island’s rugged terrain. The cliffs were dotted with caves, their dark mouths gaping open like the jaws of some great beast. The water at the base of the cliffs was churning as if something below the surface was stirring, waiting for its next victim.

Your heart pounded in your chest as the crew moved with precision, each person knowing exactly what needed to be done. The anchor was dropped with a loud splash, and the ship came to a halt just off the shore, the waves crashing against the hull in a steady rhythm.

Gojou appeared at the bow, then, with a sharp nod, he turned to the crew. “We make landfall in ten minutes,” he announced, “Be ready for anything."

As the crew began to prepare the rowboats, you found yourself standing on the deck, staring out at the island. You knew that this was the moment of truth, the moment when you would find out if you truly had what it took to survive in this world.

But as you stood there, your thoughts racing, a hand suddenly clamped down on your shoulder, snapping you out of your reverie. You turned to find Getou standing beside you, his expression one of amusement.

“Shit! You scared me!” you gasped.

He chuckled lightly and asked, “Nervous?”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “A little,” you admitted.

Getou chuckled, his hand squeezing your shoulder in what was probably meant to be a reassuring gesture. “Don’t worry,” he replied, “Stick with me, and you’ll be fine. Just remember—no one makes it through this life unscathed. But that’s what makes it interesting, don’t you think?”

You nodded, though his words did little to ease the knot of anxiety that had formed in your stomach. But before you could say anything else, Gojou’s voice rang out across the deck, signaling that it was time to go.

The crew began lowering the rowboats into the water and preparing to make the journey to land. You followed their lead, as you climbed into one of the boats, trying to steady yourself as the small vessel rocked beneath you.

Getou was right behind you, his presence was slightly comforting. As the crew began to row, the island seemed to get larger and larger, its cliffs rising like the walls of an impenetrable fortress. 

The rowboats eventually made landfall as the crew pushed them onto the shore and began walking inland.

As you ventured further inland, the mist began to dissipate, revealing more of the island's rugged terrain. The path ahead was narrow, bordered by cliffs on one side and dense, twisted foliage on the other.

Gojou led the way as if he had been here before, though you knew that couldn’t be true. The island was uncharted, its secrets known only to those who had dared to venture here in search of its hidden treasures—and those who had survived to tell the tale were few and far between.

Despite the intensity of the situation, you couldn't help but notice how the crew operated. They moved as one, each member knowing their role, their place in the hierarchy clear. You were an outsider here, but their union was a testament to the strength of their bond. It was a bond that had kept them alive through dangers that would have broken lesser men.

As the group moved deeper into the island, the path began to climb, the terrain growing more difficult with each step. The cliffs loomed high above you, casting long shadows that stretched across the ground like grasping fingers. The vegetation grew denser, the trees twisted and gnarled, their branches reaching out like skeletal arms.

The atmosphere became thinner and it made it harder to breathe. The island felt alive in an almost unnatural way as if it were aware of your presence. It was as if the island itself was a living entity, watching, waiting.

Gojou paused at the top of a particularly steep hill, his gaze fixed on something in the distance. The rest of the crew stopped as well, their attention shifting to whatever had caught Gojou’s eye. You followed their gaze, squinting against the harsh light of the rising sun.

At first, you saw nothing out of the ordinary. Just more rocks, more trees, more shadows. But then, as the mist began to clear further, you saw it—an ancient, crumbling structure, half-hidden by the overgrowth. It was a ruin, its walls covered in moss and ivy.

“This is it,” Gojou said, his voice filled with an almost childlike excitement. “This is what we came for.”

It didn’t look like much—a forgotten relic of an era that was long gone, abandoned, and left to decay in the middle of this god forsaken island. But the way Gojou spoke, and the way the crew reacted, made it clear that this place was important. 

“Everyone, stay sharp,” Gojou continued, “We don’t know what’s inside, and we don’t know who—or what—might be guarding it.”

The crew nodded in silent agreement, their hands instinctively moving to their weapons. The air was thick with tension, the kind that precedes a storm. You could feel it in your bones, a deep, primal fear that made your skin prickle and your stomach churn.

But there was no turning back now. The closer you got, the more you could see the details—intricate carvings in the stone, eroded by time.

The entrance to the ruin was a gaping maw, its stone archway cracked and crumbling. The darkness was the kind that seemed to swallow any light that dared to enter. You hesitated at the threshold, your instincts screaming at you to turn back, to flee from this place, and never look back.

But before you could act on those instincts, Gojou stepped forward, his presence commanding the attention of everyone around him. “Stay close,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. “We go in together, and we come out together.”

With that, he led the way into the darkness. The crew followed without hesitation, their trust in Gojou was evident in the way they moved as one, their footsteps echoing through the silent ruin.

You took a deep breath and stepped inside, the darkness swallowing you whole. The air was cool and damp, the scent of earth and decay filling your nostrils. The walls were close, the space narrow and claustrophobic, the only light coming from the torches carried by the crew.

The further you went, the more oppressive the atmosphere became. The darkness seemed to press in on you, the weight of the earth above bearing down on your shoulders. You could hear the sound of your own breathing, the rapid thud of your heart in your chest. Every step felt like a descent into the unknown, into a place where the rules of the world no longer applied.

The crew moved with caution, their eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of danger. Gojou led the way, his torch held high, casting flickering light on the walls around you. The carvings continued, more detailed and complex the deeper you went, telling a story that you couldn’t quite decipher.

But then, the path began to widen, the walls falling away to reveal a large, open chamber. The ceiling was high, disappearing into the darkness above, the floor uneven and littered with ground roots amongst other things. In the center of the chamber was a large stone altar, its surface covered in ancient symbols that glowed faintly in the torchlight.

Gojou approached the altar, his expression one of awe and reverence. He reached out, his fingers brushing against the surface of the stone, and as he did, the symbols came to life, glowing with an intense, otherworldly light.

But before anyone could react, the ground beneath your feet began to shake. The walls trembled, dust and debris falling from the ceiling as the very earth seemed to come alive. The altar pulsed with energy, the light growing brighter, and more intense until it was blinding.

You threw up your hands, shielding your eyes from the searing light. The hum grew louder, the ground shaking violently, and you felt a surge of panic rise in your chest. And then, just as soon as it had started, it stopped.

The light faded, the ground stilled, and the chamber was plunged back into darkness. The only sound was the ragged breathing of the crew.

Gojou was the first to move, lowering his hands and turning to face the crew, there was a glint in his eyes, a hint of something that made your blood run cold.

“Well,” he said, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. “It looks like we’ve found what we were looking for.”

cursed seas taglist: @jaegersity @moonlightlexie @sorcerersseestars

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[frostironfudge]

If Only I Could Get To You First (Bucky Barnes One Shot)

Summary: Bucky Barnes and you have been best-friends, but unknowing to the other you both are also in love with the other. Though everyone else seems to know.

Pairing: Modern!Bucky Barnes x Plus Size!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Modern AU, swearing, past domestic abuse (non descriptive), mutual pining, fake dating, confessions, best friends, angst, fluff, i just want to squish bucky into a hug, brock rumlow is a dick head, hurt/comfort, love confessions, crying, loving from afar

playlist: taylor swift: treacherous (taylors version) / mohit chauhan: dooriyan (from ‘love aaj kal’ 2015) / aditi singh sharma & arijit singh: raabta (night in a motel) highly recommend this song seriously.

a.n. originally this was supposed to be full of angst, but it turned into this beautiful world of feels.

Word Count: 10k

Main Masterlist || My AO3

In the list of bad ideas your best friend compelled you into, only two ever worked out in your favour. 

One was sneaking into your first high school party, you’d had your first kiss. 

The second was when she pushed you onto the dance floor at the frat house’s halloween party and you bumped into the warlock.

“Woah, easy there.” He’d caught you with a charming grin and his blue eyes. Your lungs would not breathe till he would tell you too.

“Are you alright?” Those blue eyes to a once over, checking for any sign of injury.

“I’m—I’m so sorry, I lost my footing.” You look to the side to glare at your best friend but she is luckily not in your line of vision.

“Woah, doll, who is on the receiving end of that glare?” He wonders loudly over the music which somehow doesn’t bother you.

“My best friend pushed me.” You explain, sighing.

“We could work on a hex.” He offers, you let out a laugh, he’d interpreted your last minute outfit well enough, deep red turtle neck and skirt with a borrowed blonde wig.

“You’re the first person to know who am I.” You smile, he bows.

“The others are beneath our intellect. Do you want to move to the side?” 

You nod, his hand finds yours and the night floats away.

“James Barnes, warlock for tonight. What is your name Sabrina Spellman?” He offers his name and then you give him yours.

Conversation flows on, in the little nook of the house.

Movies, TV Shows, a heavy argument about Professor Snape and Dumbledore and then academic choices. 

Time went on numbers exchanged, as were memes.

Coffee tumblers refilled over hours every Wednesday.

Movie marathons, study dates, celebrating A pluses and even the occasional C minus.

Pranking his very unhygienic third roommate by placing cups of detergent all over his room and a few cups of water.

--------------------------------------------------

You had known his close friends called him Bucky, it was never defined across the months of your blooming friendship if you could call him that name.

Bucky wondered why you hadn’t yet, maybe you did not consider him as close as he presumed. He had no inclination to ask out of fear to ruin the friendship he found within you.

it changed one night, at three a.m. your phone vibrated near your head, you were still dressed in the day’s clothes. Work had been terrible, so you deserved a night off of regular activities.

Reaching for the angrily vibrating device your bleary vision widens, you pick up the call.

“James? Is everything okay?”

“Could I come over?” Is all he asked, sounding broken.

You answered with an instant yes, quickly changing into a jumper and a hoodie. waiting for him in the living room.

His knocks sounded hesitant, almost as if he were reconsidering his choices.

You’re greeted by a heartbreaking sight.

James Barnes, with his hair a tousled mess, eyes puffy and red. Your heart seizes with worry.

“Natalie and I broke it off. I well, Sam saw her out with Zemo. She did not even deny it. How could she do this to me, Firefly?” He even sounds broken, as your nickname falls from his lips.

He lets you pull him into your warm embrace, his arms wrapping around you, pulling your body close into his. He sighs deeply as he finds comfort. 

The tears do brim anew, his shoulders shake.

“Bucky,” You hesitate, a hand stroking the back of his head. You guide him to the couch, retrieving your stash of ice cream and running back to him.

He gives a half hearted smile seeing the flavour, a shared favourite. 

You give your own beaming grin of encouragement.

“Here is your mission choose you accept it.” You hand him a spoon. He chuckles slightly.

“To finish this entire pint of ice cream with me.” 

The ice cream doesn’t stand a chance.

--------------------------------------------------

Bucky has good days and bad ones for three months after the break up, the timing awful between midterms and assignments but they served distraction. 

To celebrate the end of the torturous examinations you both make your way around New York City. In search of 1 am pizza. 

“How are you?” You know it is a question she could dodge but the way he seemed to carry himself slowly coming into his own had given you hope. 

Bucky only stiffens for a moment at the question, progress you deem. 

“Honestly I feel it was a good thing.” He takes a bite; the cheese pulls and he grins in approval. You take a picture of him as he makes a silly face, both laughing now.

“I might not date for a while but I know I will eventually.” He informs of the decision.

“That is good.” You pat his back, taking your own bite as he in turn takes a picture of you pulling a silly face.

Slowly your phone memory is filled with several outings with your now extended group of friends, and several more with Bucky. He returns back to himself after a few months more, after a few okay-ish dates and he finds himself seeking your company.

He grabs a bouquet of your favourite flowers, his legs need no guidance to the familiar path of your home. Bucky stands near the entrance as the doorman, Percy smiles at him with kind eyes.

“She’s gone out.” Percy tells him, therefore Bucky waits, leaning against the wall phone in his hand scrolling through the fresh batch of micro sized comedy he could send to you.

Familiar sounding laughter pulls him in, your bright face greets his view, then your fingers curl around an arm. He follows the touching limbs to see the face of Rumlow. 

You seemed so radiant around the man. Bucky clutches the bouquet tighter as though in an attempt to ground himself or stop his heart from breaking before it could even be given to you. 

Rumlow turns you before you can leave his embrace to go to your apartment. Your laughter carries through to Bucky. He watches, lips pressed into a thin line.

Rumlow pulls you close, whispering something your ear, you bite your lip nodding. 

Bucky could hear his heart cracking over the noise around him, as your lips are upon that man’s own. He turns, walking away still clutching the bouquet. 

Bucky Barnes and you — best friends through college. Maybe that shouldn’t change. 

Bucky nods to himself, his feelings probably arose because of the time spent together and your friendship growing deeper. So he tucks this little crush upon you away, and decides that best friends is what you both are meant to be. 

--------------------------------------------------

Seven months after graduation, Natasha nurses your busted lip. Vodka on the table is also for drinking she tells you. It soothes the ache from your broken heart and lip. 

Your phone still unresponsive from the one person you need. How many texts does it take for a best friend to respond?

“I could call him.” Natasha offers as you shake your head. 

“I, my texts should be enough, I left him calls as well.” You explain, “Could, could you ask Steve where is he?” 

Natasha studies your face, she knows you’re hurt over Bucky not responding. Brock Rumlow was the furthest thing from your mind and heart.

“I will,” She promises and your phone rings, your best friend’s face flashing across the screen. 

You take the call knowing the odd time difference between the two of you had her more on edge. 

“Hey,” You greet. 

“Don’t hey me, did you report him?” She all but yells. 

“I don’t want to associate any further—,”

“Bullshit, you absolutely should report that piece of shit unless Barnes has murdered him already, so you cannot call the cops cause then he will be in jail.” She cuts you off. 

“I don’t think he knows yet.” You admit, Natasha looks at you, quietly speaking to Steve and updating him about what occurred. 

“What do you mean? Is he okay? Because Barnes would not let that asshat breathe. Hell I’m taking the next plane out of Melbourne.” Her nails on the keyboard resound.

“No, no, don’t! Just, okay, look Nat patched me up and she also said vodka’s good for the pain as well so I’m fine and he’s, he’s probably busy…” You defend Bucky, once again. 

“Babe, he has been busy awful lot since he started dating that bimbo bitch.” She clicks her tongue, annoyed at the man. 

“Look can we just, drop the whole thing, I, I think I need to sleep, and you need to get to work.” You remind her. 

“Just leave me messages through the day alright and no memes or links coherent language only.” She warns you. 

“Yes alright coherent language only.” You promise. 

Nat comes by with a plate of food, placing it in front with a fork. You stare at the pasta for a minute. 

“I called Steve, he got through, Bucky is out with her…” She trails off.

“Oh, did Steve say anything?” You hesitate to ask, Nat shakes her head. 

“He knows you wouldn’t like her to know so he just made sure Bucky would check his messages.” She gnaws at her bottom lip struggling to say something.

“What?” You look at her. 

“You should really report him, this wasn’t the first time was it?” She states you look down at your hands. 

“No.” You close your eyes at the admission.

“How long have you kept things from us? From Bucky?” She places a gentle hand over your forearm. 

“He, he was very particular, no where where anyone would know. Started two months ago. I tried breaking up after the first time but—,” Your vision blurs, the tears are harder to hold back. 

“Do you want me to take pictures? I know we can file a case, or at least a restraining order…” Natasha tries to coax you to listen to her but you just shake you head.

“I can’t I don’t want more trouble, Nat. It’s over he’s gone. The fight was more about him shifting to L.A. and me not wanting to follow.”

“Are you in love with him still?”

“I never was, I just, I thought I could learn to love him and then he just tried to beat it into me…” You shudder in remembrance. 

Natasha leaves the topic, knowing that it was difficult to walk away even let alone relive the ordeal. 

It is four days later at the scheduled game night that you see Bucky, you don’t greet him.

He furrows his brow when you move away from the living room to the bathroom before he can take a good look at you. 

“Where’s Rumlow?” He questions and the room turns silent. 

“Did you not see her messages?” Steve crosses his arms. 

“What messages?” Bucky retrieves his phone.  

“Barnes, when did you last speak to her?” Nat questions then scoffs as Sharon wraps her arm around his wrist pushing the phone down. 

“A few days ago, why?” He answers, running a hand along Sharon’s arm. 

“Bucky.” She pouts. 

“What is it baby?” He questions, being distracted from the conversation at hand by his girlfriend. 

“Bucky you should go speak to Y/N.” Steve adds with a bit more seriousness. 

“What happened, is she, is Firefly alright?” He looks up in worry.

“Ugh, she always wants your attention.” Sharon whispers loudly, “Does she not have her own boyfriend?” 

“Don’t you have better things to do than cling to Bucky’s arm? Or is your default personality trait whiny girlfriend only?” Natasha uses the same tone as Sharon. 

Sam covers up his laugh with a cough. 

“Bucky.” Sharon whines again then moves away to go to the balcony sniffling and tears welling up. 

“Crocodile tears.” Nat rolls her eyes. 

“Nat.” Bucky gives an exasperated look, chasing behind Sharon to mend things. 

“Steve, please let me punch him.” Nat pleads. 

“You know she doesn’t want us to tell him, how has he not responded after the texts? We all got them.” Steve sighs taking another sip of his beer. 

You return, wiping you eyes, for any stray tears or mascara. 

“Whats got her in pain now?” You ask, a look of disdain taking over. You try not to stretch your lip as the sting from the cut still presents itself. 

“Nat called her whiny.” Sam chuckles. 

“Nat…” You sigh. 

“What, it’s about time we call her out.” She shrugs. 

“How are you holding up?” Sam questions, eyes on your busted lip. 

“Eh, been better will be better soon I guess?” You shrug and wince as the pain in your shoulder blade presents itself. 

“And now she’s making a face at me!” Sharon accuses you and then goes back to the balcony. 

Bucky’s heavy sigh echoes through the room. 

“Firefly, can you not? I know you all don’t like her much but I do okay? Christ some best friend you are,” Bucky turns back to once again console his girlfriend running a hand through his hair in frustration. 

“Some best friend?” Your cold tone makes Bucky turn to face you, a quip ready on his exhausted tongue, he doesn’t get to speak because he finally takes in your appearance. 

The bags under your eyes, the redness housed within them, the busted lip you have and the slight wince as you take a deep breath. 

“I’m going to kill him.” Bucky connects the dots in his mind. 

“No need, these were days ago, I needed you and you were not there James.” You accuse, tears brimming once more. 

“I, Steve said to see my texts but I had none from you… Steve why did you not say anything?”

“You could have called me. You, I left you voicemails, crying sobbing, asking for you. For your help. You weren’t there. They didn’t say anything because I wanted to tell you but then again, your time and devotion is pre-booked. Let me know when a slot opens up, I can summarise the whole thing in two minutes, the least I can do as some best friend.” You sneer, walking towards the door in no mood to stay any longer. 

Bucky mechanically follows you, 

“Firefly, I—, I swear I don’t have any messages, I’m not lying!” 

“You could have called!” You accuse.

“I was out—,” Bucky tries to grasp your hand.

“Like I said, I know you’re too busy, for me.” You press the call button several times more waiting for the elevator to come up faster. 

“That is no excuse, I’m so sorry, I just, please stay, we can talk.” His hand reaches to grab your shoulder. A painful sound escapes you and you flinch away from him. 

“Where else did he hurt you?” Bucky’s tone holds no emotion, you look up at his face, the stoic expression masks his feelings but the anger in his blue eyes is reaching its summit. 

Your eyes shift to the elevator when it dings to signal the opening of the doors. 

“You aren’t leaving.” Bucky informs you. 

“I do not want to talk about this.” You tell him, feeling like your heart might break again.

“I do. I need to know what did he do, because he won’t be breathing after I’m done with him.” 

“It doesn’t work that way.” Your eyes shift to Sharon who rolls her eyes at you, then puts on a pout when Bucky turns to look at her. 

“Bucky,” “Not now Sharon.”

Bucky turns back, but you’re inside the elevator. He steps ahead to join you, the doors begin closing his fingertips just graze the border where the sensors would have the automatic doors reopen. 

He’s pulled back by his arm by Sharon, you look down. Heart breaking again, that you can’t even be prioritised by your best friend. He won’t even fight for you.

Bucky catches the quiet sob that escapes past your lips at wrapping itself around his heart squeezing upon it.  

“Do you have any semblance that someone else could have bigger problems that you?” Bucky looks at Sharon, taking his arm out of hers. 

“Baby,” She begins her fake tears again. 

“God, not with this again. Sharon, seriously please.” Bucky groans in frustration. 

“You want to spend all your time with that stupid bitch.” She complains as Bucky turns to press the elevators if he is fast enough he can catch up to you. 

“She’s my best friend. She needs me.” Bucky glares at Sharon. 

“No, she does not she managed to find help elsewhere four days ago, she just wants your attention.”

“What the fuck did you say?” Natasha verbalises the question brewing within Bucky. 

“I-, no I said nothing! Nothing!” The blonde stutters in defence. 

“Oh I’m going to smack this fucking bitch—,” Nat is pulled back by Steve. 

“Did you delete Firefly’s messages and voicemails?” Bucky’s voice is low and cold, almost similar to what yours was towards him. 

“I—, no,” Sharon gulps audibly, sweat breaking across her forehead.

“You have one more chance, did you fucking delete messages my best friend left for me, at a time she needed me?” Bucky’s hands form fists. Sharon had kept asking to take pictures on his phone, then sending herself the ones she liked thats when she must have deleted all of your communication to him. 

“Bucky, it’s always, Firefly this and Firefly that, what about me?” Sharon defends, trying to move close to Bucky. 

The elevator dings, opening on the floor. Bucky crosses the threshold. 

“I’m going to send the elevator back up, I want you out of my life. My house key can be dropped off here at Natasha’s, don’t you dare try to contact me or anyone. It is over.”

Sharon’s final plea falls on deaf ears as the doors are closed and Bucky lets out a heavy sigh. He brings out his phone trying to call you as he jogs through the crowd towards the nearest station, checking the watch he knows the next train leaves in ten minutes. 

Bucky calls out your name through the station, his breathing erratic. You have your hood up, not wanting to be spotted by him. 

You can hear his calls, the way your phone vibrates in your pocket a frantic echo of his own booming voice. 

“Firefly.” Bucky finally breathes, standing behind you. 

You say nothing as you turn to face him. 

“I’m sorry, I really am so sorry, it is no excuse she deleted the messages, fuck, I should have called. I should have been the one there. I’m your best friend. I should have caught on earlier.” He tenderly cups your face between his hands, guilt seeping into his bones. 

His thumbs wipe your tears, you don’t want to have a public meltdown. 

“Come on let’s get you home, I think we still have time to grab ice cream from Mrs. Lorena’s store.” His warm hands leave your face, but the warmth returns on your hands as he intertwines them with his, you want to cry all over again. 

Bucky takes charge of leading you through the night train, you both stand in favour of the elderly couple who need the seats. They look at the two of you warmly. 

You feel small, your hand never leaving his, he stays close with almost a protective stance over you. 

Bucky notes the change in your demeanour. How you’re hiding away, flinching at loud sounds. 

It eats at him how these small things had inculcated themselves into you the past months you were with Rumlow. He didn’t care about the consequences, he will beat the shit out of that fucker. 

Your mind races, back to the night you first went out with Rumlow. Somehow your mind kept comparing what he did to Bucky. As though your tall brunette best friend should be the standard of all men. 

--------------------------------------------------

You weren’t going to call Rumlow back, realising that maybe the reason you were comparing him to Bucky was because you were in love with your best friend, your Bucky. 

The conversation was going to be simple, carry a bouquet of his favourite flowers, a letter in your hand filled with your confession. Your nerves singed with each step towards his door. 

You rang the bell, once, twice; then you heard the laughter and kisses. Your heart sunk, you scrambled to hide at the other end of the hallway. 

Bucky came into view with Sharon, the business major. They make their way to his door, lips meeting ever so often, you feel each one deliver a crack to your heart.  

Maybe, maybe you were meant to be best friends only. The door closes and you can hear their sounds, you move past the corridor and exit the building. 

Nodding to yourself, Bucky Barnes and you best friends through college. 

--------------------------------------------------

“Firefly?” Bucky waves a hand in front of you, you blink, looking around. 

“Huh?” You speak before realising. 

“I asked where is your key ring?” Bucky looks at you in worry. 

“Oh um,” You fish around for the familiar keyring handing it to him.

Bucky opens the door at sets down the bag of groceries. How long did you space out for?

“So, here is your mission, should you choose to accept it,” He brings out your favourite ice cream tub from the bag.

Your face breaks out into a grin, a laugh finally reverberating in your chest rather than sobs. 

“Is it to eat this ice cream and talk to your idiot best friend.” Bucky holds up two spoons as an offer. 

You grab one, then grab the tub and make a run for the living room couch. 

“Oh no you don’t!” Bucky chases after you, you twist around the last minute your foot and his tangling with the fluffy carpet under the coffee table, you both land on the couch. 

Bucky is above you as your foreheads collide and the tub of ice cream rolls onto the floor. 

“Are you okay?” He questions, as you rub your forehead and his, the ache dies down slightly of the impact. 

“Sort of,” You wince, then look at him. 

The two of you lock gazes, heat blooms between you both. Red tinged cheeks. 

Bucky had wondered how it would be, to hold you this close. 

You had wondered how it would be, to have him in your arms.  

Both of you break out of your thoughts and scramble to sit up. Ankles still caught in the carpet, you both slide down the couch, ending with your straddling his hips. 

His hands move to your hips and yours wrap around his neck. 

Bucky feels your warm breath fan across his face, how is it you fit so well against him, as though you belong next to him. 

You feel his fingers gently squeeze your hips, how is it that your arms encircle him as though he belongs between them, next to you. 

You feel something poke your thigh. Bucky’s eyes widen. 

“Um, is is that…” 

“No um, no,” 

Bucky panics at your suggestion quickly moving you from his lap to beside him on the floor. 

The spoons clatter to the floor between his legs. 

The sigh that leaves from Bucky’s lips has you laugh, he joins in. Shoulders shaking and heads thrown back in mirth. 

Your head on his shoulder and his resting on of top yours. 

Laughter and giggles filling the apartment after months. 

--------------------------------------------------

It is another month later when you all are at your weekly game night at Bucky and Steve’s place. 

“Barnes, who are you taking to the wedding then?” Sam questions between shuffling the deck of Uno Cards. 

“What wedding?” You curiously look up Bucky sighs, shoulders deflating. 

“Maya is getting married, and insisted I bring someone along, and well they wanted to meet my girlfriend but I’ve broken up.” He explains, placing a chip in his mouth. 

“So just tell them?” You quirk an eyebrow. 

“You remember Maya right?” He looks at you with an incredulous gaze. 

“And Mr. Barnes here hasn’t told her, he’s broken up. Wanted to show off the whiney girl.” Sam announces. 

“Winnie Barnes would not approve.” Steve adds quietly and Bucky groans. 

Nat gives you a look before looking down into her phone. You blink a few times not understanding what that look meant. 

Your phone chimes, your eyebrows furrow at the message. 

Best Friend: go as his fake date to the wedding, his family adores you. 

Me: who even told you? 

Best Friend: not important. 

You look up with a glare at Natasha. 

Best Friend: don’t glare at her. She’s an innocent baby.

Me: I’m not doing the fake date thing. Not with Bucky, it will be hard. 

Best Friend: come on, he looks at you the same way. 

Me: he doesn’t. and also bye. i’m not having this conversation again. 

You place your phone back, looking up at the four of them staring at you. 

“What?” You question, picking up your seven cards. 

“Do you have any solution for Bucky?” Steve wonders, you look at Nat, she shrugs innocently. 

You narrow your eyes at her. 

“Let me think.” You bide your time. Bucky inhales deeply, seeing his own set of cards. 

Your phone chimes again, you control the groan that whats to leave you.

Best Friend: listen, just trust me okay? When have I said something that turned to shit? 

Me: its only twice your plans have not turned to shit.

Best Friend: ouch. this won’t turn to shit come on, help him out. I’ll ask Nat to let you win. 

Me: as if I need to be let to win.

Best Friend: she has 4 draw fours. 

Me: what the fuck?

You look up and Nat discreetly shows you proof. 

“Say the word and you get them.” Nat whispers. 

More encouragement comes through from your best friend. 

“What if, Bucky, you take a fake date…” You clear your throat. 

“Maya will catch on its a fake date and then it will be a mess, I just will fake a work thing.”

“What if I go? As your um fake date?” You offer, placing your cards face down near the space between you and Nat. 

“Are you sure? I mean they may believe it…” Bucky trails off in thought. 

“I mean, only if you’re comfortable… Just Maya will be upset if you don’t go at all and not having a date should not stop you—,”

“No, I think it should work, we know each other well enough to pretend to be in love.” Bucky grins. 

You try not to wince, “Yup, yeah, won’t be hard to pretend.” You agree. 

“Thank you, Firefly.” Bucky beams for the remainder of the game even as you beat his ass with your exchanged cards. 

--------------------------------------------------

BestFriend: so who wants to bet on they return as an official couple? I place a 100 bucks. 

Natasha: add my 100 to that

Sam: nah man they’re too scared to admit it. 

Steve: they won’t damage the friendship. 

Best Friend: Oh lil Samuel and lil Steve ya’ll better be ready to pay up. 

--------------------------------------------------

You grasp the handle of your suitcase a little tighter as Bucky’s car pulls around the corner. You walk closer to the edge where he could park for a few moments as you would load up your things. 

Bucky set the car into park stepping out and greeting you with a wide smile. You return the gesture, he envelopes you into one of his warm hugs. Easing your nerves. 

“Here give it to me and you can hang the dress near the suit.” Bucky takes your small suitcase and you open the backseat door his navy suit hanging from the hook, you place your own dress near it. Checking for any folds and then getting into the front seat with him. 

“So um,” He says after a few moments of silence. 

“Yeah?” You look at him, he seems nervous. 

“We need to get our stories straight…” He hints you nod.

“When did we start dating, first date, who asked who?” You list, he nods. 

“Guess watching those rom-coms proved to be useful.” He chuckles, you swat his arm lightly. 

“Okay so we sort of confessed a few months ago, but we were scared to ruin the friendship.” He offers, which in a sense was true for him, though he never confessed. Even though he had fallen for you. 

“Yes and we decided to date other people, but those didn’t work out so we decided to give it a shot cause the feelings never went away.” Which was true you think, at the back of your mind you were in love with him. 

“Okay, yes so we’re dating since a month and a half…” He offers, you hum in agreement. 

“Yep and first date…” you pause to think.

“Ice cream parlour.” He offers, you smile that was actually your first outing as friends. 

“Yeah, and you had the cherry stuck to your nose with whipped cream.” You begin to laugh. 

“Oh right miss, whipped cream moustache.” He gives you a look, chuckling as well. 

“Oh right, you looked like a clown.” You roll your eyes. 

“And you were my sidekick.” Bucky teases. 

“Alright, alright, and we both confessed, got each other flowers and stuff.” You admit, you had put the flower in resin. 

Bucky grips the wheel, he had gotten one flower’s petals from the bouquet preserved. 

“Yeah, that, that sounds romantic enough.” He clears his throat. The earlier tension seeping back into him, was this a mistake? What if he said something stupid. 

“Hey, um, Buck?” Your hand rests on his shoulder. 

He looks at you at the stop sign. 

“If, if at any point you feel the whole faking thing gets too much lets you know keep a safe word and we’ll you know revert to being best friends and try to exit that situation okay?” You offer. 

“You’re perfect you know? I was nervous what if it gets too much for either of us and this yeah the safe word is sensible.” He agrees. 

“So whats our safe word?” You question. 

“Draw-four.” His mouth twists as though he can taste the loss against your multiple draw fours that you saved just for him at the one on one game. 

You can’t help but laugh, “Okay, draw-four it is.” 

Bucky shakes his head, shifting the gear as the green light comes into view. 

“Also, Firefly, I want you to be comfortable I know what the fucker did might linger or come back at random moments, I know you’re doing well with therapy but if it gets too much or if anything triggers you, please tell me. I will get you out of that situation or help you as you need okay?” He says, you feel your chest constrict at the intensity of him caring about you.

“I will, Bucky, I promise.” You give his hand a squeeze oer the gearshift. 

--------------------------------------------------

The two hour journey to the venue has you both slightly tired, mostly hungry. The rehearsal dinner was the event you both had to dress up first for, as you both enter the venue. 

A squeal has you both turn. 

“Maya.” Bucky grins opening his arms for his cousin to come crashing into him. 

“I thought you were going to ditch my wedding.” She complains but then bounces excited, “Now introduce me to your date!” her eyes turn to you, widening. 

You offer a smile your congratulations to her caught in your throat as she screams excitedly once again. 

“Oh my god, I knew it! I knew this would be best friends to lovers! James you did good! Wait till I tell Aunt Winnie and Becca!” Maya cheers pulling you into a hug. You hug back and Bucky scratches the back of his neck giving you a nervous look. 

Maybe it would not be hard to convince them that you both were in love he thinks…. The only problem was how does he convince himself not to blabber to you. 

You feel Maya’s excitement seep into you as well when she pulls away, jumping slightly. 

“Congratulations!” You cheer. 

“Girl, you have to tell me how did you both realise.” She raises a finger up in warning. 

“I will, I will.” You give a promise to the bride. 

“What is all this commotion?” Winnie Barnes steps out of the room that Maya was in, her smile widening as she spots her son. 

You admire them as they hug after months of staying apart. 

Winnie pulls away from the hug, running a hand over Bucky’s hair and then cupping his jaw. 

“Ma, don’t cry you saw me yesterday on video-call.” Bucky wipes her tears. 

“Not the same,” She pats his head, placing a kiss on his forehead.

“I love you.” He engulfs her in a hug again. 

“I love you too, sunshine.” She smiles warmly. 

“Now where is this mystery date of yours, hiding things from your Ma,” She gives him a small glare, Bucky widens his eyes. He scrambles to turn and his hand is outstretched towards you, you intertwine your fingers with his, stepping next to him. 

“Bucky, you better not be lying.” She looks between the two of you, his grip tightens on your hand.

“We’re not, Mrs. Barnes—,”

“Sweetheart, Winnie for you always.” His mom corrects you, a warm smile. 

She cups your cheek as well. 

“So he finally came to his senses.” She teases. 

“We both did…” You add with a smile, looking up at Bucky, admiring him. 

Bucky looks down at you, your gazes transfixed upon each-other his blue eyes inviting. 

Bucky wants to be lost in your eyes, drowning in their deepness. Submerging himself in the affection that they currently hold for him. 

A flash has you both turn and shake your heads. 

“I need one for the album.” Maya reasons and Bucky sighs. 

“Send me a copy?” You offer trying to dissipate the tension. 

“Why don’t you both settle into your room? And no funny business.” Winnie warns, you both pale. 

“Ma, I would, no—,” Bucky stutters, a blush coating his cheeks. 

Winnie looks at you, before laughing. 

“He better be treating you right, sweetheart, if not just tell me. I’ll sort him out.” She gives him a warning look. 

Then Winnie cups your cheek, “I am so happy you’re with him.” She says earnest. 

Guilt gnaws at you, Winnie probably would be heartbroken if she knew you both were lying through your teeth. 

“Sir, Ma’am, your room is ready, we’ll have the luggage delivered to your room in the next ten minutes.” The receptionist hands you the keycards. 

“Well go freshen up I’ll see you both at seven-thirty for the rehearsal dinner.” 

With a final hug to Winnie and Maya both of you sauntered into your room. Bucky looks at the bed. The only bed. 

“Um, I’ll take the sofa.” He offers. 

“Bucky that sofa is not even going to fit your legs…” You inform him. 

“We’ll just make a wall of pillows?” You offer.

“Are you sure?” His mind wanders to the night you were in his arms, straddling his lap. 

He coughs to remind himself; not to let his mind wander astray. 

You nod, at what you don’t know, it’s not like you both haven’t cuddled or been in each other’s physical space before. Road trips you both pretty much sat next to each other fell asleep listening to songs so why was this different? 

“Is it cool if I shower first?” Bucky turns to the bathroom, “Oh fuck me.” He mutters. 

“What?” You follow his line of vision. 

What kind of hotel was this? 

The wall between the bathroom and bedroom wasn’t opaque it was a glass, a very transparent glass. The door was made on frosted glass, but again you would be able to understand what was going on. 

You gulp audibly. 

Bucky opens the door to check if there is a curtain or towel to cover the pane. 

The bathroom proves to be larger, inside, the toilet seat away from the view only the glass shower and bathtub can be perceived from the glass. 

You peek from the glass as Bucky rests his hands on his hips as he looks around for a solution. 

“Shower with swimsuits?” He offers an idea. 

“Bucky I didn’t carry one…” You scratch the back of your neck, suddenly everything feels incredibly warm.

“Underwear then…” 

“How about we just shower while the other one faces away? Or lays in bed…” you counter. 

It seems plausible, Bucky purses his lips, then nods. 

“So um, you lay down, stretch your feet out and I’ll um, shower first then I’ll lay down…” He runs a hand through his hair and then over his stubble. 

You nod, grabbing your phone and turning to the bed. 

Bucky grabs his toiletries and powers through going to the very open bathroom. Maybe the hot water will fog up the glass? 

You immediately text your best friend and Natasha about the one bed and very daunting bathroom situation but they just send stupid laughing emojis in response. 

You groan. 

Some friends they are, the shower runs and from your angle on the bed you can’t see a thing apart from the ceiling of the bathroom, you sigh. 

It would just be easier to admit to Bucky you have feelings for him. You can’t risk your friendship though. 

Bucky sighs in content as the droplets hit his skin. The warm water taking away the stress of the day and tenseness in his shoulders. He watches the rivulets trail from his body to the anti skid flooring. One hand on the wall. 

His mind briefly wonders what would it be like to have his ex here and then he dismisses the thought. Sharon and he were supposed to be a one off a distraction from his growing feelings for you. 

Then she got clingy, demanding every waking minute of his to be hers to fill with herself and her own needs and wants. 

Bucky sighs again, the suds of soap now turning clear. He grabs the towel, checking the glass sure enough it is fogged up by the heat. 

He puts on his boxers and jeans as he exits and your voice catches in your throat as a lone rivulet makes its was down his neck then chest then abdomen, ending just over the taut band of muscles and you feel as though the world is in slow motion. 

“Take a picture it will last longer.” Bucky teases bringing you out of your staring. 

“I h-hope you didn’t use up all t-the hot water.” You stutter get up grabbing your set of things from your bag. 

The outfit for tonight was a simple purple jumpsuit that brought out your curves, and chest. Long sleeves but very comfortable. 

Bucky lays down, texting Sam and Steve finally about what was happening. They both offered him advice on avoiding the shared bed but then the picture of the couch he sent had them agree with your pillow wall idea. 

As the shower runs he feels himself grow less confident in his plan to have you both pretending, he was so sure he’d slip up. 

When you exit Bucky’s lips part the deep purple of the jumpsuit bringing out the colour of your skin and eyes. The neckline of the outfit was probably his favourite, it was low, and accentuated your chest as the sleeves were the ones that had slits on them. 

It showed skin but in a way that was risqué but classy. 

The fabric hugged the curve of your hips and Bucky wanted to pull you close to him just so he could feel your warmth. 

“Take a picture it will last longer.” You tease him and he shakes his head, observing you do your make up. He’d seen it before the way your tongue would poke out in concentration as you picked which eyeshadow to use or if the colours were going well with what you were wearing. 

You turn to him once you’re done, 

“Can you see if these are even?” You sit next to him on the bed closing your eyes. 

Bucky’s eyes are on your lips and not eyelids. He traces their outline with his gaze, appearing so soft and so inviting. 

“Bucky? Is the eyeliner equal?” You open your eyes as he looks up at your confused expression. 

“Yes, um w-was just ma-making sure they were equal…” He stammers out quickly getting up and to further aid drying his hair. He was growing it out again. 

The two of you make it downstairs, Bucky’s arm slips around your waist before you enter. Pulling you close to his warmth. You smile up at him. 

“You look beautiful.” He admits looking down at you with a smile that sends flutters through your stomach. 

“You look quite handsome yourself.” You offer him an equally butterfly inducing smile. 

Bucky knows his heart will break this weekend but if he gets to pretend to be yours then its worth it. 

You look up at Bucky stealing a final glance before walking through the door. You suddenly realise that maybe, maybe basking in this pretend would at-least give you a taste of happiness, even if the magic would end come Monday morning. 

As the two of you find your seating next to Rebecca, who also is elated at you being the secret girlfriend. The dinner begins to go by without a hitch. 

Emotional words are said in the practice speeches and the love between Maya and her to be husband, Marcus; is felt through all the attendees, tying them all together. 

Bucky has his arm around the back of your chair, as you all wait for dessert. He doesn’t realise it when he begins to trace soft patters along your mid back. You lean into his comforting touch, allowing him to continue. 

When you look up at him, your breath hitches at how intently he looks at you. Those azure eyes taking in every bit of your own eyes. 

“Oh come on, just kiss already.” Rebecca’s voice stops the patterns being drawn upon you. 

“W-what?” You look at her in confusion. 

“You both look like you want to tear into each other.” She rolls her eyes, “Just kiss we’re all adults. Well except the kids table in the corner but,” Rebecca shrugs. 

Bucky leans in deciding to kiss your cheek just to shut his sister’s mouth. You then turn to face him just when his lips were to brush you cheek. 

His soft, slightly chapped lips brush over yours, his eyes widen for a moment. Then he closes them, his hand cups your jaw. You feel that damned fluttering feeling again, as you kiss him back. Your palm resting on his chest. His heart thundering wildly against his chest.  

The kiss lasts for a few moments, that feel as though time was slowed down, all too soon you pull away from him. Biting your own bottom lip and a deep blush creeping across your chest and neck. 

“What did you just start dating?” Rebecca comments, “That looked like a middle schooler’s kiss.” 

Bucky tries to make sense, you try to make sense as well. Because what the fuck, you both just kissed each other. 

“We aren’t into PDA.” You defend with a sip of your drink to soothe the nerves. 

Your hand rests on Bucky’s knee, a grounding action that the two of you needed. 

Back, in the room; he begins to undo his shirt, he’s halfway done when he pauses. 

“Firefly?” 

You turn to face him, the make up from your face gone. 

“Bucky?” 

“Was, was the kiss okay?” He fidgets with the cufflink as he undoes it. 

“I um, guess yeah? Why?” You bring your eyes back up to his, 

“No, no, um Rebecca’s comment just well, what if we don’t appear that comfortable?”

“Do we practice kissing?” You wonder, god just dig a six feet deep hole and bury yourself in it. 

“I, thats not, I’m not—,” He lets out a frustrated sigh, closing the space between you two. 

Your ears begin a ringing at the way his cologne floods your senses. 

Bucky’s warm hands cup your cheeks,

“I’m not, not trying to take advantage of this but um, maybe we could table kissing? Because I guess handholding and all of the other things we’ve done as, as best friends, so…”

“Yeah no um, yeah I get what you’re saying,” you agree. 

“No kissing then.”

“Nope, no kissing.” 

With the rule established you both wind down for the night the pillow wall is built and the covers are pulled over your frames. 

Exhaustion tugs at your body but sleep seems to be at its wits end not wanting to arrive to you. 

Bucky shifts around in bed, staring at the pillow wall. That should not have been the first kiss between the two of you. 

His mind is running a mile a minute, he wonders if you’ve fallen asleep. 

“Bucky, you awake?” Your soft whisper has him tug one pillow away. 

“Hey,” His soft smile greets you with his hair tousled and eyes craving sleep. 

“Hey,” you smile back, your eyes on the verge of sleep, a few strands of your hair curling around your forehead. 

“Can’t sleep?” He wonders and you nod. 

“You too?” You ask and he nods. 

“Do you want to talk till we fall asleep?” You offer as a plan. 

“Sounds like a plan.” Bucky’s heart feels warm. 

It is quiet for a moment before Bucky decides to tell you about his promotion at work. It’s hardly been time at the firm but they recognise his potential. 

You reach across the wall and hug him, Bucky grins and wraps his arms around you, relishing the moment. 

“Thats great! I’m so proud of you!” You cheer him on, he grins. You both slowly pull away from the hug. Returning to your respective sides. 

The conversation flows from there, about what his new responsibilities would be and how he would have to divide his time. Both sets of eyelids get heavy and Bucky dozes off mid conversation, you chuckle lightly. Brushing his hair back and then slumber find you as well. With your hand resting on his cheek.

--------------------------------------------------

It’s very warm for the cooler spring day that was predicted. 

Bucky is usually feeling like a furnace but today he is exceptionally warm as well. Not that he is complaining but something about the warmth is inviting. 

A soft whimper presents itself to Bucky and his eyes peel open. You’re pressed against flush him, his head was buried in the crook of your neck, an arm around your waist. Your arm resting above his own. 

“Firefly…” He tries to coax you out of slumber. 

“Five more minutes…” You mutter sleepily, shifting around till you face him and your head rests on his chest. How do you have a death grip on him to not let him escape he doesn’t understand. 

“Firefly… we gotta get to breakfast…” Bucky manages to free his hand and brushes his thumb over your cheek bone. 

Honestly he wouldn’t leave the bed if he woke up to you everyday. 

“Shhh, the dough is resting.” You grumble, shifting closer.

“The dough?” Bucky grins amused. 

“I’m the dough, must rest in the oven.” You complain again. 

“I thought you’re my Firefly.” Oh he’s going to ask you about this. 

“I can be two things.” You pull away looking at him. 

Bucky looks at you, waiting for the sleepiness to leave you. 

“Bucky?” You ask, then look down at your intertwined bodies, well you clinging onto him. 

“Firefly, good morning.” He chuckles and then you move away from him all too soon. 

“Why didn’t you wake me earlier?!” You sit up on your side, face hidden in your hands. 

“Because the dough needed to rest.” He says matter of factly

“What dough?” You question, then it hits you the drunken analogy you had come up with your best friend and Nat, 

“Oh that no, um, i’m, i’m going to the bathroom.” 

You grab your phone and things as quickly as possible, Bucky remains laying in bed you know he’s still laughing, the endearment is clear in his demeanour but you have half a mind you’re going to be called dough from now on till you spill the reason.

Me: i sleepily blabbed to him about resting the dough.

Best Friend: you know this is why I too up night classes here, to stay awake for the fresh batch of well rested dough stories. 

Nat: 🤣🤣 So how was the resting of the dough on the very hot oven?

Me: i hate you both. It was a drunken analogy about Bucky being warm.

Best Friend: that made you want to be dough resting in the oven. 

Nat: so when will you get to baking? Now that you have rested. 

Best Friend: oh I think very soon, Bucky’s probably stiffly up to the right temperature. 

Me: i will smack you both. stop it. 

You groan silently. Keeping your phone on the counter. Useless, your friends are useless comedians at your expense. 

Breakfast passes by in the hotel as an uneventful affair, Bucky and you decided that meal times without family intervention would be on best friend mode so the conversation was mutual topics and trying to see if you could squeeze in a marathon of harry potter movies to commemorate the time you did the same in college a year ago. 

The ceremony is at five which gives you a few hours to kill before absolutely needing to get ready. 

“Do you think we should ask your mum or Maya if she needs any help? It just feels weird being just a guest…” 

Bucky’s hair is falling upon his forehead when he looks up at you. Unthinkingly you reach over to help move it, and for a moment he wants to just have your fingertips run through his hair as he lays next to you. 

“I, yes, we should.” He wonders if you can hear his heart beating almost as if it will leap out of his chest. 

And you both find yourselves barely making it in time to get changed for the ceremony. Bucky takes over ironing duty since he knows your absolutely need to wash your hair before an event otherwise you don’t feel yourself. 

In the nick of time you make it, Bucky eternally grateful you had his cufflinks set up and he helps you zip up the dress. 

You both are panting by the time you reach the attached ballroom. With just two minutes till the bridal march. The wedding planner shoos you both off with a glare as if Bucky and you never helped set the decor because five people of her team fell ill. 

“Shouldn’t have fixed that centrepiece.” You grumble as Bucky snickers before you settle into the seats. 

“Firefly, I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t have left it unfixed.” He whispers leaning in, 

“I would.” You whisper back. 

“You’re too nice.” 

“I’ll break it. Let the reception begin.” You warn him. 

He wraps his arm around your shoulder bringing you close. 

“I think the dough needs some rest.” He teases. 

“James.” You warn, the redness of your cheeks only urging him onward. 

“Sorry dough, won’t bother you.” Bucky says, giving you puppy eyes. 

“James—,” Your voice caught in your throat at his proximity. He licks his lips, eyes on your soft ones. You’re wearing that red lipstick from the brand you frequently stayed up at night to order from, and he could lie and say the shade does nothing for you because your lips seem so inviting the shade of red adding to your allure. 

If you ask him for his heart he’d give it to you right there, he’d get on his knees and beg you to have it. 

The bridal march breaks his reverie and both of you stand up with the crowd as Maya walks down the aisle with her father, looking every bit of an angel in her wedding gown. 

When you look at her fiancé, your heart lurches, he’s crying tears of joy watching her close the final bit of distance between them and their forever. 

As her father gives her hand in her to be husband, the intimate look of hidden smiles they share almost has you look away. 

Bucky watches the ceremony play out, Maya and Marcus have to say their vows now and he knows they were best friends before Maya admitted her feelings and they have been together four years before they got engaged. 

“I believe the couple have prepared their own vows.” The minister gestures and Marcus’  best man hands him his folded papers. 

“Maya, I met you in high school and you were instantly my best friend.” Marcus begins. 

“We made a list of promises of what we would do and a set of friendship rules, you may not remember but I still have those pieces of decorated cardboard.”

Maya laughs, recalling the memory. 

You look up at Bucky, recalling the moment from where you both turned into each other’s best friends. 

“The first time as best friends when we had an argument was over where would we go to for college, because in all honesty you and I can only function if we’re close enough to share our one braincell.”

Their entire bridal party laughs at the joke. 

You recall the time you were paired with him to play Charades and the two of you sucked so horribly that the entire group banned the game.

“That day I was so angry but when I went back home I saw those cardboards. I knew college could be done anywhere but my best friend? I couldn’t leave her. That is the best damn decision, I made, well that and proposing to you and today standing in front of you, vowing to be by your side, even when you hate me leaving my clothes scattered on the floor, loving you even when I may be annoyed at you for not being able to pick a place for dinner,” 

Maya lightly swats him, then wipes a tear. 

You stare at Bucky catching the smile on his face, you wonder what he thinks about, then you feel him about to look at you so you look ahead. 

“To cherish you even when things around us may push and shove us to not remember what we’re together for, to nourish and nurture our love, our life, 

to work on myself to be the best I can be for you. To support you in everything you need me to support you, to catch you if you stumble, to be held by you if I tumble. I vow to be your best friend, love and husband as long as time is ours.” Marcus gazes lovingly at his bride. 

Bucky tears his eyes away when he hears your sniffle. You wipe your tears with the back of your hand. His hand shifts to wipe your tears and to hold you closer. Press his lips to your temple in promise. 

“Marcus, how am I supposed to speak now?” Maya complains with a chuckle that masks a small sob. 

Her groom shrugs innocently making all the teary eyed faces laugh. 

“My Marcus, the day you entered my life, was the most ordinary day I thought but little did I know your doodle of a covalent bond in my notebook would be setting up the reaction for an extraordinary life ahead where I get to stand at the altar with you.” Maya looks up at him, Marcus smiles at her, eyes getting watery. 

“When I admitted my feelings to you, I was scared to lose you. So scared that I was going to hold my silence. Then you brought those damn sliders from the place we went to as best friends and I knew I had to tell you how much more love my heart held for you.”

Buck looks down at you, every memory with you playing in his mind, taking in Maya’s words and replacing them with moments he has with his Firefly. 

“I vow to not nag you for your clothes strewn across the floor.” 

Bucky adores you as you laugh. Then looks back at the bride and groom. 

“I vow to be brave when you need me to for myself and for you. I vow to let my fears show so you can be brave for me and yourself. I vow to cherish you for who you are and who you become. To nourish and nurture our love, our life. To work on myself for being the one you need through any stage of life we are at; to be your best friend, love and wife as long as time is ours.” 

You gaze up at Bucky when his hand moves in your periphery, you catch the redness of his cheeks, he cried as well. Your hands ache to offer comfort.

Bucky gazes at you, both of your visions blurry from the tears. 

“Beautiful words, now I ask you, Marcus Finnegan, do you take Maya Barnes as your lawfully wedded wife?” The minister questions Marcus.

He places the wedding band on her finger.

Bucky grasps your hand in his, fingers curling around the space between yours. You look from the half intertwined hands to Bucky questioningly.

He isn’t going to let you go, no. 

If he had gotten to you first that night, maybe if he was brave enough he could have prevented the heartbreak.

“Now I ask you, Maya Barnes, do you take Marcus Finnegan as your lawfully wedded husband?” The minister questions Maya.

She places the wedding band on his finger.

You curl your fingers around his hand, letting tears flow down your cheeks. You hope with all your heart you’re interpreting his gesture correctly. If only you had gotten to him first that night.

“I present to you family and friends, by the power vested in me, Mr. and Mrs. Barnes-Finnegan. You may now kiss the bride.” 

The cheers and clapping around the ballroom die down into a dull buzz, Bucky cups your cheek with his left hand, pulling your lips onto his own. The kiss filled with a longing and hunger that you both carried for months. Salt mixes with the taste of his lips. Fears slowly let gone off as you grasp his left hand that rests upon your cheek.

When the two of you pull away for air, hidden by everyone standing to keep clapping for the newly weds allowing you both to be tucked away in your little corner.

“Why didn’t we say anything?” Bucky laughs through the tears.

“I was scared to lose you.” You rest your forehead against his, Bucky wipes your tears as you wipe away his own.

“Firefly, I’m never letting you go. Should have walked upto you and that fucker.” He finally admits, confessing his entire plan to you.

“I kept thinking of doing the same when you were with her, showed up with your favourite flowers too. Have it preserved back home…” 

“I’ve kept it preserved too.” Bucky admits, joy ceases his heart at your elation.

Your lips meet again, this time with lesser longing than before but the need to have each other ever present. Bucky’s lips peppered kisses all over your face, drawing out laughter from you. 

Each mirthful moment tucked away for him to keep. 

Your head resting on his chest as his arms around your waist, the slow notes of the song cascade around the two of you, Bucky had you on the dance floor from the first song, dinner left for later. 

You tilt your head back looking up at him with so much adoration.

“Waited so long to have you look at me this way.” He admits.

“Always looked at you this way when you weren’t looking.” You confess.

“Never looking away from your gorgeous eyes, Firefly.” He promises, his lips ghost over yours, as you rise on your tip toes even with heels to kiss your Bucky.

He finally got to you. You finally got to him.

—x—

[wangxianficfinder]

I’m in the Mood for a Fic Where…

We are testing out having less asks in a Moods post because of the past link limits ^^ ~Mod L

~*~

1. Hello to our newest Mod (Hello~ Mod C), and to our glorious Mods of @wangxianficfinder I hope you all have had a pleasant April, as finals for all college attendees is approaching and as one myself, I am certainly bogged down by stress. If you have any pick me ups of wangxian fluff I would appreciate. Mostly with canon dynamic wangxian, but canon or modern au suits me fine. Have a wonderful time!

Father Figure by thunderwear (T, 2k, wangxian, modern, post-canon, immortals, fluff)

❤️Of Curses and Cottontails by  Alliandra (T, 15k, wangxian, bunji, curses, fix it)

💖Advisable Lan rules and other shenanigans by apathyinreverie (G, 4k, wangxian, canon divergence, fix-it, drunk LWJ, or pretty much whole lan sect drunk, fluff, shenanigans)

💖When Words Fail by CordialCoroner (CordialCrow) (T, 10k, wangxian, post-canon, case fic, fluff)

💖Fanclubs do, in fact, save lives series by nienie (T, 6k, wangxian, fluff & crack, getting together, JGS getting what he deserves)

💖An Evening Well Spent by Admiranda (G, 2k, wangxian, JL & WWX bonding, post-canon, fluff, drunk LWJ)

💖 Back to the Seasons of My Youth by justdoityoufucker & MeliorismMint & Potatoes_Radishes & Vrishchika (T, 14k, wangxian, also dimension travel)

Tales From Bunny Mountain by telarna (G, 5k, wangxian, JL/LSZ, JL&WWX, so many bunnies, lan buns) podfic by esbielle available

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2. hiii! i'm in the mood for jiang family-critical wangxian! preferably fics that focus on how *all* members of the sect/ main family failed wwx but if it focuses on one member over the others i'll still be happy! and if we can see how wwx heals and grows after separating himself from the environment (or being separaTED) i'll be even happier! thank you so much!!

💖Light Source by abCEE (M, 30k, WangXian, Yunmeng Jiang bashing, Yu Ziyuan Bashing, No golden core transfer, Canon Divergence, Medical inaccuracies, Accidental baby acquisition)

🧡Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 329k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement)

Through the Storm by marhikit (T, 33k, WangXian, WX/OC, Not JC Friendly, Canon Divergence, Not Madam Yu Friendly, Not Jiang Family Friendly, WWX gets big siblings that love and adore him, JZX ends up with someone different, No Golden Core Transfer, Creepy JGS, JZX & WWX Friendship, WWX in a different sect)

🧡 rain falls and soaks into the earth series by RoseThorne (T, 36k, WangXian, WIP, Near Death Experience, Attempt Drowning, Madam Yu Bashing, Recovery, No war AU)

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3. for the next 'in the mood for' post, can you give me recs for fics where jgy got exposed like in front of everyone, it could be either the focus of the fic or just the climax part of the fics. thank you for your hard work !!

💖By Any Other Name by ShanaStoryteller (Not rated, 31k, wangxian, identity porn, canon divergence, WWX goes to Lotus Pier after resurrection)

in this place where we don't have a prayer by @cerusee , Mikkeneko (T, 42k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, killing Wei Wuxian has made a lot of people very angry and is widely being regarded as a bad move, somehow ‘Wei Wuxian died at Qiongqi Path’ went from being the central premise of this story, to being a thinly veiled excuse for Jiang Cheng to yell at people who look funny at his brother) (self-rec!)

love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360k, WangXian, Mutual Pining, EXTREME SLOWBURN, rated E but the the NSFW stuff doesn't begin until chapter 19!, bottom lwj in chapter 20 and 27)

💖Drag Me Into Your Coffin (I Will Drag Your Sins Into the Light) by the5leggedCricket (G, 2k, canon divergence, temporary character death, time travel, fix-it, BAMF LXC)

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4. Hi! I’ve read hundereds of MDZS fics and there is one theme that I crave and I have yet to find. Do you know of any alternate fics where LWJ and WWX get to raise Lan Yuan together? I know I read a fic when they were ghosts and raised him, but that is all. I want a (hopefully long) fic of them just being a happy family without Wei Ying dying… do you know any? @ninhoemy​

scars and scratches by comefeedtherainn (E, 112k, wangxian, WWX & LSZ & LWJ, major character death, canon divergence, fix-it, angst w/ happy ending, WIP)

From the beyond series by apathyinreverie (T, 11k, wangxian, LWJ & LSZ, LWJ leaves the cultivation world, cultivation world critical, BAMF LWJ, fix-it of sorts, fluff & angst, ghost WWX)

Bound, bonded by Moominmammashandbag (M, 5k, wangxian, suicide attempt, love confessions, angst w/ happy ending)

Wei Wuxian, Who’s That? by bumbledees (T, 48k, wangxian, pining, crossdressing, everyone lives au)

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5. hi, for the next mood fic post I want some hurt/comfort that goes really heavy on the angst. I want it to beat me with a bat and run me over with a car and then spoon feed me back to health. Preferably over 20k words, and plenty of Wangxian content. @wolfletkaider

Tragedy is Not the End by Hobbsy3 (T, 358k, WangXian, Time Travel, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Golden Core Reveal, Canon Divergence from Qiongqi Pass, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con) (Let me know if I linked the wrong fic ~ Mod C)

💖a shattering of souls by coffee_and_cardamom (M, 42k, wangxian, major character death, daemon au, heavy angst w/ happy ending, blood & violence & gore, hurt/comfort, LWJ pov)

💖myself through someone else’s eyes series by thunderwear (M, 59k, wangxian, past LXC/JGY, past LXC/NMJ, post-canon, permanent de-aging, heavy angst w/ happy ending, kid fic, love confessions, domestic fluff)

💖Echo, Murmur, Dream, Here by bluerainmist (M, 50k, Canon Divergence, YL survives, Angst with a happy ending, Self-Harm, Yiling Wei Sect)

💖you are safe / loved / worthy / enough by everythingispoetry (T, 150k, wangxian, modern,college/university au, mental health problems, depression, healing, self-care, anxiety, hurt/comfort, falling in love, slow burn) While not tagged with angst this fic def takes you through the wringer ~Mod L

💖symmetry by bleuett (M, 45k, wangxian, scifi au, cultivation in space, happy ending, yearning, reunions, non-sexual intimacy, grief/mourning, unconventional time travel)

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6. Hello, would you know any really good fics that happen postcanon are about WWX finding his place in the world? Can be smutty (no bottom LWJ) or just about HGJ taking care of his husband after eloping. Thank you in advance! @kanrax-blog

instructions on not giving up by fruitys (M, 13k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Character Study, Established Relationship, gender play??, the yiling laozu to laopo pipeline, also the yiling laozu to wei-laoshi pipeline) the story of how WWX, going nuts with boredom in the structured safety of the Cloud Recesses, gradually earns the trust of the younglings (despite Rule #4001) and establishes himself as a teacher. Plenty of downright Miyazakiesque slice-of-life cozy domesticity as well, as he does odd jobs among Gusu’s commoners and plans his cottagecore retreat, and plenty of passionate Wangxian love

I'm Going Out (Gonna Make A Name For Me And You) by cosmicmilktea (T, 16k, WangXian, Various OC Sect disciples, Post-Canon, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Mentor WWX, intersect relations, cultivation sects, Slow Burn, Like seriously it's very slow, Sickness) "Wei Wuxian goes where the chaos is in Lan Wangji's stead, and finds a home in the process."

Preparing the Soil by Rynne (T, 26k, wangxian, post-canon, established relationship, family issues, Chinese holidays, not JC friendly)

one of our own by glitteringmoonlight (G, 7k, wangxian, post-canon, 5+1)

Resolutions series by incendir (T, 203k, wangxian, WWX & LSZ & LWJ) This is a series of fics set mostly post canon, not all of the fics are wwx centric but it’s better to read it according to their order , mind the tags!

the evenings and the inbetweens by occultings (microcomets) (M, 4k, wangxian, post-canon, established relationship, morning sex, fluff, slice of life)

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7. Hi. Thanks for answering my Ghost City WWX fic request before! May I ask if you know any fics that revolve around A) Nie Huaisang's plot to kill JGY? Or B) Jin Ling getting used to suddenly becoming a sect leader? @the-ma-an​

7A)

The Golden Ghost series by 1PB2PB3PB4 (M, 122k, NHS & NMJ, background wangxian, character death, NHS pov, tgcf style ghost NHS, morally ambiguos character)

I'll Change It All by Rose_Sniffer (T, 39k, WIP, SangChen, MingLi, Time Travel Fix-It, Ambiguous method of time travel, OOC!NHS, Hand-wavy fix , Angst, I guess there's a whole lot of angst before there's fluff and flowers, BAMF!NHS)

In My Defence, I Have None (For Never Leaving Well Enough Alone) by SemiLocalCryptid (T, 58k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Established Relationship, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, POV NHS, but only for the first chapter, POV Alternating, between Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi for the rest, probably, Angst with a happy ending)

Nie Huaisang's Ten Steps to Fix The Fucked Up Reality by cosmic_zephyr (astralcelestia) (T, 62k, WangXian, WIP, Time Travel, Canon Divergence, Scheming,Time Travel Fix-It, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, BAMF WWX, BAMF WQ, BAMF NHS, BAMF LWJ)

Another chance by lightsfillthesky (G, 41k, WangXian, NieLan, WIP, Time travel Fix-It, Nie WWX, Pre-Relationship, Light Angst)

7B)

Rotten Work by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 63k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Protective WWX, Protective JL, POV JL, jC & WWX Reconciliation, eventually, Reluctant Matchmaker JL, this kid is doing his best)

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8. Hello! Can I request some baby wangxian for in the mood for a fic? Thank you.

Wangxian Child AU’s; collection by Selene210 (G, 5k, wangxian, collection of short aus, canon divergence, childhood friends au, fox WWX, dragon LWJ, fluff, first meetings)

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9. Hello! This is my first doing an ask for you but I’m in the mood for a fix where either lan wangi/Wei wuxian know a language that the other doesn’t and proceeds to say endearments/dirty talk the other. I saw this on Twitter and I absolutely fell in love with the idea!!! Thank you for everything that you do!

heavy is the crown by sweetlolixo (E, 58k, wangxian, fox WWX, dragon LWJ, language barrier, daenerys/drogo premise, dubious consent, romance, arranged marriage, rape/non-con elements)

Translations by nagi71 (T, 54k, wangxian, canon divergence, language barrier, dialect problems, fluff & angst)

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10. For the “I’m in a mood for…” can you recommend modern AUs where WWX is happy and successful even before he meets LWJ? Thanks 🙏

leave all your love and your longing behind by  scarletstorm  (E, 142k, wangxian, modern, meet-ugly, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, autistic lwj, neurodivergent wwx, pining, minor angst, happy ending)

[restoration exercise - no talking] by spookykingdomstarlight (M, 18k, WangXian, Modern AU, USA, Model WWX, Artist LWJ, ASMR Artist LWJ, Strangers to Lovers, Meet-Cute, Long-Distance Relationship, Identity Porn, Fluff, Light Angst) wwx is a successful/popular model

simping for hanguang-jun by defractum (nyargles) (T, 6k, WangXian, Modern AU, Streamer AU, Youtuber AU, Among Us, Vlogger AU) wwx is a mildly successful youtuber

(i've got) trouble in mind by seularen (E, 76k, WangXian, Heist AU, Thief WWX, Forger LWJ, Modern AU, Modern with Magic, Epistolary, Explicit Sex, Long-Distance Relationship, Sexting, D/s elements, Wangxian's canon kinks, Happy Ending) theyre both thieves but i have just a smidge bias towards smart and bickering wangxian. less angst more Action

【那夏天的我們】a stroke of fate by puddingcatbeans (G, 59k, WangXian, Modern AU, Fluff, Slice of Life, Barakamon AU, renowned musician lwj escapes to tiny village and falls in love with local farmer boy wwx, good times only, YouTuber WWX, Food) wwx is a mildly successful youtuber but also he's living his cottagecore life

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11. hi! I asked in the other blog before reading that "in mood for" requests go here so feel free to ignore the other one! Anyways, do you have any recommendations for fics where lan wangji leaves the lan clan with a-yuan, following the massacre of the burial mounds and wei ying's death? or just lan wangji getting upset with the cultivation world and leaving with A-Yuan. Thanks

💖All Exits Look The Same by Ahlai (T, 14k, LWJ & LSZ, LWJ & LXC, wangxian, canon divergence, Madam Lan lives au, family feels, grief/mourning)

picking up the pieces by KouriArashi ( M, 111k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Grief/Mourning, Angst, Kid Fic, Families of Choice, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Politics, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Canon-Typical Violence, canon typical political bullshit, Eventual Happy Ending)

💖 The Best I Can by Zephyr (ZephyrAndTheSilverfish) (T, 26k, wangxian, canon divergence, angst w/ happy ending, rogue cultivator LWJ, coming of age, multiple POVs, secret identity fail, recovery, friendship)

Home isn't Where the Heart is. by  Hauntcats (Not rated, 7k, wangxian)

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12. Hey, are there any fics that show the novel from lan wangji’s pov? Like how Stephanie meyer did that book from edward’s pov. Preferably novel based, but if there’s only cql and donghua based that’s fine too! @no-assbutt-like-you

The Price of Old Wishes by SoManyJacks (E, 67k, WangXian, Minor canon divergence, Angst, POV LWJ, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, semi-verbal!LWJ, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mojo's Post )

Song of Clarity by vicchan (T, 59k, wangxian, LWJ pov, major character death, slow burn, canon retelling, missing scenes, pining, WIP, maybe abandoned?)

The Lone Jade of Gusu Lan by NoThanksSuddenDeathItIs (M, 24k, wangxian/OMC, major character death, LWJ pov, fluff & angst, hurt/comfort, humor, missing scenes, WIP, maybe abandoned?)

well-met by warlight by wukuiyuxin (Not rated, 2k, wangxian, WIP, Old English Style Poetry, Epic Poetry, [Podfic] well-met by warlight by Cathalinareads (Cathalinaheart) ) an account from LWJ’s POV of meeting, loving, losing, and mourning Wei Ying and raising A-Yuan—in Norse-style alliterative epic verse: a narrative device enabling LWJ to be at once spare, stately, grammatically faultless, and poetically eloquent the way he’s supposed to be in the original Chinese.

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13. I’m in a mood for fics with NSH & wangxian friendship! Could be either first with WWX or first with LWJ or both! No breaking up WX tho please!

a grain of millet drifting by RoseThorne (T, 7k, NHS & WWX, Assassination Attempt(s), Introspection, Regret, Travel, Post-Canon, POV Third Person, POV WWX, Ghosts, Reconciliation, Exhaustion, Pining, Pre-WangXian)

The Vermillion Ribbon by Unforth (E, 233k, WangXian, Wen WWX, Politics, Slow Burn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Marriage of Convenience, Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sex, Mutual Pining) is heavy on the friendship between LWJ and NHS (canon divergent, WWX was raised with Wen qing & Wen Ning)

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14. hello! for the next im in the mood for, do you know any fics where wangxian have a secret life they hide from their families and/or friends? modern au's or canon divergence, something they have together, like they are in the mafia or something? thank you for your attention!!

💖I'd be the one to hold you down (kiss you so hard) by AlfAlfAlfAlfAlf & tardigradeschool (E, 85k, wangxian, LXC/JGY, past LXC/NMJ, modern, Leverage au, unhealthy relationships, murder, depression, heists, found family, hurt/comfort, smut, marriage, angst w/ happy ending)

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15. Hello hello! Thank you for all you and welcome Mod C! (Hi! ~ Mod C) I can't wait to see what recs you bring. I just finished reading Like a House on Fire and now I'm really in the mood for first responder wangxian! I would appreciate any fic offered. Have a nice day!!

🧡 Where's Your Emergency? by trippednfell (M, 64k, WangXian, 911 Dispatcher WWX, Single dad LWJ, Kid fic, Modern AU, D&D Games, Angst with a happy ending) (not technically first responders but WWX does plan on becoming a Firefighter ~ Mod C )

Some Sort of Risk by Silvarbelle (M, 36k, WangXian, modern au - set in China, Aerial firefighting, Murder Mystery, Case Fic, wen siblings only mentioned and already deceased, frequent mentions of time spent in prison, i'm not kind to LQR in this one, Happy Ending)

Flames of Desire by Blueflower740 (T, 4k, WangXian, Firefighter LWJ, Jaded WWX, Touch-Starved, Getting Together Mutual Pining, Slow Romance, Near Death Experiences) firefighter LWJ rescues CEO WWX

Twitter fic by enigmatree (wangxian, EMT WWX, soulmates au, WIP)

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If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth.  Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order! ***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[justoneday-namjoonii]

It burns, doesn’t it? [Pt.20]

Genre/au: Mafia!au, Mature, Fluff, Angst. Violence. Warning/trigger warning: graphic imagery, gang activity, gun usage, mature subject matter, mild drug usage, murder, suggestive language, lots of language, brief crude/unnerving behavior, mentions of blood, toxic/abusive themes, humiliation, gas-lighting(?), cheating is a subject of debate, brief non-explicit s*x, betrayal, lies. Don’t like don’t read please💗

Members: Bts Feat. Got7, Lisa

→ Pairing: Jungkook x reader x ?

→Summary: The mafia tore your life apart, if it wasn’t for your will to live, it would have killed you long time ago. After pain, the betrayal and lies, you’ve survived somehow—you’re apart of a family now, but there’s no love here.

word count: 10k +

author’s note: I hope you enjoy, it’s been a while 🫶 please see m.list for previous parts💗 will edit later😪

Your world has been flipped upside down and inside out.

You’re not the same person you were two years ago. You’re not where you thought you’d be or with who you thought you’d be with. By now, you would have been on the path to graduate in the fall of this year. That’s not happening anytime soon, maybe never. Not since you’ve joined this madness for your own survival, there’s no other way out.

You’ve been outside in the grass for an hour, walking in the cold, just begging for the sun to beat down on you for a little bit. Today was supposed to be your first hand-to-hand combat lesson from Jimin. Your stomach twisted in anxiety all morning. The last encounter you had with him was less than pleasant.

Oddly, he never showed up. Assuming he forgot, you went outside and to do some conditioning on your own. You did small exercises to loosen up and get your blood pumping. It’s nice to have some time to yourself. You’ve spent so much of your time with Yoongi these days. You’ve spent more time with him then you have with Jungkook. Some days he’d give you lengthy lessons on hierarchy, laws and the systems they use to operate the business. Other days he’d fall asleep from the pain medication and you’d quietly leave the room to go make lunch. No one seems to be home much anymore, it’s usually just you and Yoongi, much to Jungkook’s disdain. He’s out with Namjoon a lot, sometimes for two days at a time you don’t see him.

You creep downstairs after a shower and check the office. He’s not in there so you go to his bedroom but you’re met with a closed door, you knock.

“Come in,”

You walk into the room to see him sitting on the bed, removing the wrap on his abdomen and exposing the bullet wound. Your stomach turns at the sight. You fidget with your fingers and stare at the blood littering the bandage, it takes you back to a bad place.

“What is it?” He lays back, trying to catch his breath. You stand near the door, clenching your hands.

He’s always intimidated you but you can’t say you fear him anymore.

Six months ago, if someone told you you’d be with him almost everyday, you’d say they were crazy. Yet, here you are. He’s assumed this mentor-teacher role that surprisingly fits him. Even after spending all this time with him, you struggle to speak to him sometimes.

“Is there anyway for me to get a phone?” You mumble out your request. “I don’t have one anymore so I need to have some way to communicate with- all of you,”

“Not right now, I’ll make sure you get one when we’re in a stable environment, stay with one of us until then,” You try to hide your disappointment with a small nod. Yoongi steps into his bathroom briefly and when he comes out, you are standing in the same spot. He looks up at you.

“Did you need something else?” That’s the nice version of, ‘why are you still standing there?’

“No but,” You mentally cringe, a bit flustered, “do you need help with changing that?” You point to his side.

"Sure,” He breathes a sigh of relief, if he has to do it one more time he might just scream. He lays back on his pillow and waits.

“I’ll wash my hands first,” You scurry to the bathroom and wash with warm soapy water.

More than anyone, Yoongi has been the most consistent. The same person you hated for getting you into this slowly became the person making it easier to be here. You’ve been through so much with him and because of him—the dynamic is weird. He watches your every move, from the way you discard the old bandage to the clumsy way you unravel new goss.

“Ah,” He winces and you freeze.

“Sorry,” You pause all ministrations, “I’m just trying to make sure it’s clean before-“

“You’re doing fine, I’m just sore,” He offers a bit of praise and you smile, hands feeling less shaky. With a cloth, you clean around the stitching with antiseptic, careful not to press too firmly. You discard the cloth and start wrapping with a clean bandage.

Being so close to the damage makes your stomach queasy. All that you’ve seen and gone through is heavy on your mind. You can’t help but feel partly responsible for this, for Jin’s choices. Yoongi’s chest rises and falls, causing your eyes to drift towards his chest and land on a red ink peaking over his shoulder. Since when did he have a tattoo?

You look to him for approval. “Is that okay?”

He massages his temples with a nod, “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Why?”

“Jin shot you…He could have killed you,”

“What he did to me was his choice, it has nothing to do with you. He’s betrayed me before, knowing him comes with the chance of getting stabbed in the back—you didn’t know?” 

“No,” You nod sadly, “yes? I don’t know, maybe I didn’t want to admit it.”

“You never know with him. One minute you can trust him with your life,” He tugs a shirt on and moves to the closet to gather some things, “the next you’re running from him to save your life, that’s who he is.”

“I thought that after my fathers death, we would become close,” You bite your lip, “we’re farther apart now than we’ve ever been,”

“That’s hard to believe, given he acted as if you didn’t exist.”

“He never said anything about a sister, even after our dad was killed?”

“He kept any family he had away from us. Because of that, there was never much Namjoon could do to threaten him—until you. Deep down inside, it almost seemed like he loved you.”

You’ve started to wonder if Yoongi even knew what it meant to love someone. He doesn’t seem like Jungkook or Jimin, happy to have a warm body or a listening ear. Yet, there is something symbiotic about the relationship he has with the group, especially with Jin. He seems to depend on them, even if he doesn’t say it or show it.

“I’m sorry,” He sits beside you on the edge of the bed, “I don’t know if I ever told you that, but I am.”

“Thank you,” Your eyes reluctantly meet his, “you did what you had to do though, I can’t imagine what I would have done in your position,”

He doesn’t respond. The truth is, he wants to survive, he wants what he has to survive, if that means selliing someone to do so, so be it. they’re all like that. If it means sabotaging each other, they’ll do that too.

“Is the relationship with your father as complicated as mine was? I didn’t even know what he did until he died…”

“You could say that, he tried to kill me as a kid so that should give you an idea of what he was like. He called it training but I know he wanted to see if I would survive. He abused my mother and anyone close to him, he was a heartless bastard—I have a ton of reasons to hate him and I did at one point.”

You swallow, the reality of who you’re speaking to sets in. “You don’t anymore?”

“No, not so much anymore. He’s dead,” He sniffs, wiping at his nose, nervous tick, “I killed him.”

Of course he killed him.

“Oh…I’m sorry, I mean I know he was awful to you and your mother but,” You place a hand over his in sympathy, “I’m sure that was painful, I know it was when I lost mine. He died right in front of me, I was sick, hysterical—I never felt pain like that before.”

This is deja vu.

Years ago, he recalls having a conversation very similar to this with your brother. He can’t stop staring at you, his doe eyes linger on you longer than they ever have.

“What?” You look around.

He breaks out of his daze when you bring attention to him staring at you.

“I need to take this call,” He stands up and escorts you out, “we’ll talk later, alright?”

You try to hide your disappointment, “Okay,”

You felt like you were just getting somewhere with him. Gone was his cold leader façade, he looked human.

He looked like you.

It was so late when he got home, he was afraid you’d already gone to sleep. He trudged up the steep stairs and straight to your bedroom. He opened the door softly and dropped his bag in the corner. To his dismay, you weren’t in the bedroom at all.

“Y/n?” He looked around upstairs but you were nowhere to be seen. Then it hit him, you’re probably where you’ve been spending most of your time, Yoongi’s office. He begrudgingly marches down the stairs to go get you, it’s his turn to spend time with you.

Without knocking, he peeks into the office and sure enough, you’re asleep with a pen in your hand and a paper under your face. He stops for a moment to admire how peaceful you look and smiles to himself. 

He could come home to this for the rest of his life.

When you hear the door creek, you sleepily look up and see Jungkook in the doorway. 

“Hey,” You smile, dropping your pen.

“Hey,” He gently smooths a hand through his freshly cut hair, “I’m sorry it’s late, things got backed up and we had to wait.”

“It’s fine,” You visually take in how tired he looks and quickly get up to hug some of his stress away. You hum against his chest.

“I missed you,” He kisses your temple.

When you look up, your heart skips a beat and a cheeky grin forms on your face. “I missed you too,”

“How did your training go?”

“Fine,” He pushes your hair out of your face, eyebrows scrunching.

“Did Jimin teach you?”

“Well…no, I haven’t seen him today, so I just trained myself I guess,”

“Hm,” He squints, touching the abrasion on your skin until you wince, “how’d you get this?”

You shake his hand off and distract him, cupping his face and kissing him. He exhales against your lips and his mouth goes slack. He’s eager but not deliberate at all—he loves to be kissed like he’s about to die.

When you finally separate, he looks at you amused. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

You sigh, hoping he’ll cave in with your persuading, “I don’t know, maybe?”

“I need to shower first,” He thumbs the back of your hand, “do you want to join me?”

“I already showered,” You turn him down, you’re not in the mood to feel the hot water turn cold and for your fingers to start wrinkling up.

“Wait up for me then, so you can finish what you started.”

During his shower, he thinks of what he wants most right now. He wants you, he always does. In his arms and close to his heart, bringing him back to earth. The fragrance of the soap and the warm steam enters your nostrils when the bathroom door opens. In just a few moments, he’s all over you with damp hair and clumsy movements.

“Ah,” he breathes against your ear, “It’s my mom’s birthday today,” He mumbles, eyes half-lidded in ecstasy, a very Jungkook thing to do, “I wanted to call her but-…I couldn’t,”

You hum in acknowledgment, eyes glazing over, body tingling and heart racing when he uses his thumb to coerce you into giving in.

“Ah…there you go—let me know how it feels,” He snickers at your scrunched up facial expression. He suddenly stops his ministrations to knead the soft flesh of your thighs, stretching you a little further than you were prepared for, “I’m a pleaser y’know, I like the guidance,” You look up with pleading eyes, you can’t bring yourself to do it. It’s bad enough that the walls are thin and everyone is home—you are not bringing anymore attention to yourself.

”Talk to me,” he exasperates further, “you’d think I was choking you, don’t hold your breath,” He smirks, hand leaving your thigh to cup your face, “I don’t want you passing out on me.”

”Jungkook,” You gasp for air, “I don’t want anyone to hear,”

You try to hide from his piercing gaze but you have nowhere to turn. Without a word, he leans down to kiss you but you don’t offer much movement back. It could be the overstimulation of it all but you keep spacing out. He’s frustrated. He becomes increasingly heavy-handed, relentless, as if to force your presence to remain attentive to his.

It hurts a little, the scars on your thighs are sore under his fingers. You don’t have the will to tell him to stop. He already handles you like you’re glass, you don’t want him to feel that way right now, you don’t know how you want him to feel or yourself.

He breaks the kiss and continues like he didn’t just sophisticate you, “I ha- haven’t talked to my mother in almost a year, I don’t know if I can hear her voice and not cry,”

“I’m- I’m sure she wants to hear from you,” You whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck for purchase.

“I don’t think so,” He chuckles, “she’s-…It doesn’t matter, I have you, you’re all I need,” His face is like a furnace when he presses his forehead to yours, his necklace tickling your chin, “I love you, I love you,”

When he says things like this, you’re reminded of how vulnerable he can be. For some reason, you feel a tinge of guilt.

A whimper spills from his lips and you feel his whole body go rigid. Then there’s a loud knock on the door. You cringe and Jungkook practically cries out in annoyance, face sinking into the crook of your neck.

“Ignore it, they’ll leave,” he mutters between kisses on your neck, “shh, just focus on me.” he tries to chase the fading feeling as it grows more distant.

There’s another knock on the door, this time louder and harder.

“Put some pants on and come out for the damn meeting!” Taehyung’s deep voice thunders and your stomach drops.

“Fuck off!” Jungkook lets out a sound of frustration, “I’m not going to another damn meeting, it’s the middle of the night,” He yells back and promptly leans back down to kiss you, maybe to reignite what is threatening to flee, but Taehyung interrupts again.

“You don’t have a choice, we’re talking about you,” Tae reminds him, “shit is always about you these days.”

“Kook,” your brows furrow in discomfort when his grip tightens on your thighs and your body shys away from his touch, “that h- hurts,”

“I’ll just pick the lock if you don’t come out, how would you like that?”

That did it.

With a half apology, he jumps out of the bed and rushes to get his clothes. The door opens and slams shut behind him, leaving you abandoned. You can’t make out what he’s saying but you know he’s pissed.

“What the fuck do you want?”

“I knew that would get you out,” Taehyung laughs, taking note of Jungkook’s wet fringe and visibly tensed muscles, he’s visibly winded, “let’s go.”

“I’ve been out all day, I’m not going to another meeting in the middle of the fucking night, why do I need to be there? What is there to talk about? You guys could have talked to me earlier,”

“Namjoon wants to discuss relocating and Junghyun. That prick is your real brother, isn’t he? You should go see about him, it’s your fault we have to deal with him anyway.”

They both look back and see Jimin who has somehow found time to get silver streaks put in his hair. His pretty eyes look glazed over as he scans Jungkook up and down. His eyes roll and he burns with envy—Jungkook goes back into that room with you. Every night.

Despite being upset with you, he still can’t deny your appeal—it’s hard to ignore you.

“He’s publicly calling for your arrest,” Hoseok happens to be on his way downstairs and joins the conversation, “personally, I think you could use some jail time, you’ve caused a lot of problems for us.”

Jungkook tries to open the door to go back to you but Taehyung threatens something worse. He doesn’t get the chance to let you know why he’s gone and the door is left slightly open.

So you lay there, staring at the door and trying to steady your breathing. Anxiety builds in your chest, how can you get to the door like this? You grimace, Jungkook should have made sure the door was closed.

Your heart sinks when you see the footsteps pass the door—then slowly come back.

The door creaks and light enters the dark cozy room, followed by the door shutting.

It’s Jimin.

“Hi,”

You clutch the bedsheets—what does he want?

“I want to talk to you about what I said the other day,” He slowly paces around the dark room, “I said you were conniving, a back stabbing bitch and a fucking liar like your brother…I’m sorry,” He sits on the edge of the bed, a longing expression on his face, “I was just angry,”

You swallow, knuckles white from how hard your gripping the sheets. He’s apologizing but your mind is still stuck on, ‘back stabbing bitch.’

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” He traps you between his arms, one arm on each side of you, “I thought about it and I realized that you- You didn’t do this, he did. He ruined you,” Tears begin to well in his eyes and you look at him wide eyed, “you’re not the same girl I know when you’re with him.”

You try to sit up, but he’s too close, the cover could easily get pulled under his weight.

This is scary—he’s a staring into your soul, tears rolling down his cheeks and dripping off his chin. It’s hard to tell whether this is guilt, an attempt to gain pity, or a mental breakdown—knowing him, it could be all three. “I’m so sorry, Y/n,”

“It- it’s okay…” You look away, too nervous to say anything else.

“Really? You forgive me?” He smiles, tears dissipating just as soon as they appeared.

You put on a convincing face, “Yes...”

“Even if you say that…I’m still being punished,” He leans into you, face just centimeters from your own, “you’re my punishment.”

“Jimin,” You plead, horror in your eyes, “What do you want from me?…”

“I wanted to see you,” He traces a finger from your brow to your ear, “I can have anyone I want, but not you. Why does it have to be you that I can’t have? Jungkook had to fall for you,” He glances down at your pouting lips, “But to know I can’t have you….it makes me want you even more.”

“Jungkook will be upset if he finds out you we’re here,” You whisper, fearing for his safety and yours.

“He doesn’t have to know I was here, he doesn’t have to know anything about us,”

He notices you clutch the sheets really hard, and your thighs squeeze together. “What’s the matter?” He glances at the nightstand and gathers clues to what was happening in here moments ago.

“Oh…that must be frustrating, he just left you like this,” He smirks, “he hasn’t changed, he uses you just like he used Jiyoon,”

“No, he doesn’t,” You frown, trying to push yourself back into the headboard.

“He does, baby,” He coos, condescension in his tone.

“He’s not like that anymore,” You shake your head, tears pricking at your eyes.

He rubs your thigh over the blanket, “I remember having you at arms reach at one point, you have no idea how hard it was to see you every night, laying in that bed all alone…especially those nights you’d ask me to stay with you and you let me hold you. I‘d have to visit a few of my old friends just to get my mind off of you, cold showers don’t work for me.”

You always ignored Jimin’s red flags, it was easy when you were alone. Were you manipulating him or was he manipulating you? It could be both. But Jimin comes with years of experience, he has seen and done more than you ever have. Some might label him as a whore and they wouldn’t be so far off from the truth. A few hours in the red district and he can quickly make a name for himself.

“But even though I’m attracted to you, I don’t view you as an object, you’re a human being with your own life,” He grabs your wrists to pull you up and hug you. Jungkook’s shirt is all you have on and you shudder at the closeness. But you appease him by hugging him back. You hold him tight, as if you were hugging him on one of those terrible nights. He hums over your shoulder, arms so snug around your waist.

“Jimin,” You sniffle, fighting back tears of your own now, “please go…”

“If I told you I loved you, would you tell him?”

Your mouth gapes in surprise.

“I-…I don’t know.”

“I knew it,” He sneers, “you don’t care about me enough to say that you love me.”

“I do care about you,” Your body feels like it’s numb when he finally lets you go. “I don’t mean to hurt you, I’m just- I’m confused…I’m with Jungkook, I suppose I love you too but not in the same way-“

“You made me fall for you, and now you don’t want me…Your so fucking self absorbed, you can’t even see it.“

You fall silent. Nothing you say can change how he feels. You’ve opened a wound, one that he has never been able to heal.

“It’s fine,” He coos, “if this is all I can get from you, I’ll take it, for now.” He tilts your jaw up by your chin and kisses your neck, purposefully leaving a damp spot to make you squirm against him. Then he leaves the room with a lingering gaze on you.

You lean over on your side and fall apart. You start start to cry into the bedsheets and wish this would all end. Why is this happening? You flee the bedroom and head for the only place you know no one will look for you.

*

“I’m leaving late tomorrow night, we decided that I should be the first to relocate,”

Yoongi reminds Hoseok who won’t be joining him to his dismay. The leaders need to distance themselves, being in close quarters for too long is never good.

He shuts the door with an exhale.

“Come out,”

You open the bathroom door and gasp at the sight of the gun. He lowers it as soon as he sees that it’s you.

“I’m sorry! I’ll leave,” You rub the tears from your eyes, only making them look more irritated, “I just-…I knew no one would look for me here.”

“Wait,” He puts his gun away with a sigh, “did something happened? You look like you’ve been crying,” He scans you up and down for injury as you keep your hands on your face to cover your eyes.

“Did someone hurt you?” He questions firmly and you shake your head, “you can tell me.”

“No…” You mumble and he comes down from high alert.

You stand there, tears now rolling down your cheeks. This is not a new sight to Yoongi, panic attacks and breakdowns are concepts he knows well. Whatever or whoever caused this must have made you feel unsafe, that’s the only explanation he can gather.

“Where’s Jungkook?”

“He- he went to a meeting,” You sniffle, “you weren’t with them?”

“No.”

“Oh,”

He looks you over, debating whether he should inquire more. When he looks at you, he wishes he’d think of Geongmin or Rose, but he doesn’t. He can’t seem to figure it out with you. You’re not Jin but he feels that same sense of familiarity as if you were.

What am I thinking?

You start to breathe at a concerning pace.

“You’re gonna pass out if you can’t stop hyperventilating like that,” He stands in front of you to make sure you don’t collapse, “take a deep breath,” He breathes in and out, trying to get you to do the same, “if you aren’t hurt then what happened?”

“I don’t want Jungkook to see me,” You breathe in and exhale shakily.

That doesn’t explain what happened, you know that.

“If the meeting is over I’m sure he’s looking for you.”

“I know, I’ll go, I just need a minute.”

There’s a knock on the door and then you hear Namjoon’s voice.

Yoongi looks at you, then to the door, then back to you.

He waits for him to walk away from the door before whispering to you, “go back to your room, you’ll create more problems for yourself if you come to me like this, you know that.”

“But-“

“Go, we’ll talk tomorrow,” He takes your hand briefly, “I promise.”

He says that for your sake and slips out, door shutting abruptly behind him. It didn’t feel good to hear him say that. You want to be with Jungkook but there’s an unexplained uncertainty that creeps up. You scurry back to the room and catch Namjoon’s eye on the way upstairs. When you retreat back into the bedroom, he’s there waiting.

Jungkook sits in the chair in the corner of the room, no smile detected.

“Where have you been?”

“You left the door open,” You evade the question with a harsh reply, “don’t act concerned about where I’ve been when you left me in here half naked.”

“Shit,” He rubs the back of his neck, instantly feeling regret, “I’m sorry, they were rushing me and Taehyung was going to open the door if I didn’t do something-“

“Anything could have happened.“

His eyes widen. “Did something happen?”

“No, but-“

“Why did you leave the room then? It would have been safer for you to stay in here and close the door. But you left, why?” He stands up and slowly walks you down until your back hits the wall, “if nothing happened then you shouldn’t have a problem telling me.” You glare up at him as he towers above you, so close.

You saw this coming a mile away. The interrogation, the trust fading into the abyss. You turn your head, refusing to answer.

“Y/n,” He backs away, “you’ve been crying,” He cups the side of your face, not knowing that was the second time you’ve heard that tonight. “What’s going on?“

“I just needed some fresh air,” You brush his hand off of your face, “that’s all,”

“Fresh air, you leave the house without saying anything for some goddamn fresh air,”

“I don’t want to be stuck in here all the time, why do you have a problem with that?”

His expression darkens, you don’t know what’s going through his mind—let alone your own.

“We’re in a sketchy town in the middle of nowhere, that’s why.”

“You just want to control me,” You throw a jab.

“Don’t act like you need someone to control you then,” He lowers his gaze, “I protect you, whether you think it’s controlling or not, I don’t care.”

You feel your blood pressure rise.

“I thought you wanted me to join the group and work with you, why are you acting like I can’t do anything without you? I may not know as much as you but I’m not stupid, I know how to look out for myself.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” He tries to get closer but you press your back further into the wall, “I just worry about you,”

“If things didn’t happen the way they did, I don’t think you would have chosen me,” You blurt that out with no real concern for the ramifications, “you don’t want someone like me.”

“What? Why the fu k would you even say that?” He pauses to process what you said, “I love you, it doesn’t matter if we would have met in this life or another, you’re still the person that I love.”

“But I don’t know what love is, I used to but not anymore,” You mutter, “and I don’t think it’s what we have.”

He looks at you as if you were his worst fear in the flesh.

“What’re you saying? How do you not know what it is but say it’s not what we have?”

Every word out of his mouth feels like a gag being shoved down your throat. You want to explain further but even you don’t know what you’re saying.

“Say something, Y/n. You can’t say something like that and then go silent,”

“I don’t know why I thought I could do this, I’ve been trying but it’s not working, I can’t be a part of this. I hate having to put on an act... I’m trying to be brave and strong but I’m not, I’m not like you.”

“Baby,” He sighs, “is that why you’re upset? You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. This is a lot, being a apart of this group isn’t easy-“

“That’s not it! It’s just the group, I just-…I’m not supposed to be here, I want to go home,”

He remains calm, “You are home, you’re with me.”

“No, my real home, with my family.”

You know your words hit him like a dagger to his heart. But you can’t keep pretending anymore, he deserves your truth.

“Today, I wrote a letter so that I could tell my aunt, everything that’s happened to me, she may never get to read it but I needed to get it off my chest,” You’re a bit embarrassed to admit it, “I don’t know when I’ll see her again but I know she’ll have questions, I don’t know what she’ll think if she finds out about you.“

“We’re in this for life. So was your dad and your brother, she‘ll have to accept it, it’s a big part of who you are now. Why are you all of a sudden worried about what she thinks?”

“I just am, ok?” You bite the inside of your lip,“god, I don’t know who I am anymore,” You rub your eyes to clear away any stray tears, “I’m so lost, I feel lost and confused, and I’m not happy, Jungkook,��

“What does that have to do with how you feel about me? You just suddenly don’t know how you feel about me?” His brows knit together after promptly dismissing your confession. He may as well have just said he doesn’t give a damn about your identity crisis. “If you don’t want to be an active member and train, I’ll talk to them-“

“No, I never said-“ You pause, “Are you even listening to me? I don’t feel like myself, that’s what I’m trying to tell you- Just forget I said anything, I’m sorry I even brought it up.” You storm past him to shut the light off and crawl back into bed.

“Hey,” The bed dips behind you and he lets out a deep sigh, “listen.”

To his surprise, you actually look back at him.

“You have to decide,” He plants a delicate kiss on your forehead. “think about who got you through this shit in the first place, think of where you’d be if it weren’t for me.”

Silence pangs throughout the room, giving you ample time to think about what he just said. He eventually sinks down behind you but doesn’t touch you. You got your answer, and it doesn’t feel very good. There’s no epiphany or moment of clarity, you don’t feel grateful, you don’t feel anything. Nothing.

There are defining moments in the lives of every mafia member. Everyone has a unique story that shaped them. Jimin’s story is not tragic like Jungkook’s or privileged like Namjoon’s, his life is more along the lines of a tale of the bad outweighing the good.

Before finding a permanent home with Namjoon, he had a home on the streets. His story began in grade school. He moved from his parent's home in the countryside to an all-boys school in the city. The same school Namjoon and Taehyung attended. He was 10. For a period in his life, he questioned his parent's love for him. Why send him to a city he knew nothing about with no family within reasonable travel distance? He concluded that they didn’t want him.

The last time he saw his parents was at his high school graduation. He arrived in the art teacher's car, not the most appropriate mode of transportation. No one ever knew why she took such a liking to him. He was sure no one saw the glances that were a little too long for the teacher to be on a student. Or the hugs that were a little too tight for a teacher and student. There were nights he would sneak out of the dorm to explore the city with a few bad friends. Those “friends” would use him. They would make him do things that they couldn’t do without a pretty face like his. He’d crawl back into the dorm, drunk and sometimes bruised. He never said what he did those nights, but it was clear it took a toll on him at the tender age of 16.

Namjoon observed how people responded to Jimin. He did that to everyone, every person has a niche. Even strangers would stop to give him a second glance. Older women especially loved him, something about him made them feel alive. The boy was born to be admired. It was at that moment that he realized how special Jimin was.

“My little brothers, graduating!” Namjoon welcomed them into the limousine with a beaming grin, “and just one more to go, you’ll be joining them soon, Jungkook.” He rubs the youngest shoulder.

“Maybe,” Jungkook shrugs, “graduating isn’t that important to me-“

“You might as well finish,” Hoseok rolls a joint with skill and lights it just as skillfully, “if this mafia gig doesn’t work you need something to fall back on,”

“He’s right, Kook,” The leader pops a bottle of champagne, giving the heavy drink his glass first, “make your mama proud one last time before you sell your soul to the mafia.”

It was one occasion where they all dressed up, ready to meet the dinner reservation, hit the clubs, and probably get wasted. Yoongi didn’t join but he sent gifts in the form of letters, Jin as well. Hoseok didn’t have much to do so he tagged along. At this point, his hair was long, to his shoulders, during his sleazy drug dealer phase.

Rose gave Taehyung a big hug but Geongmin was nowhere to be seen.

“I’m so proud of you guys,” Rose kisses her brother's cheek and gives Jimin a kind smile.

“No kiss for me?” Jimin pouts, leaning over to Rose with puppy dog eyes.

“Just this one time, Jimin,” She humors him with a kiss on the cheek and he giggles, “happy?”

“Very,” He flutters his lashes.

That night, they partied like there was no tomorrow. Namjoon insisted they deserved it and should indulge in a good time. Jimin managed to slip away to the strip club, where he ran into an old friend—an old girlfriend.

“Oh my god,”

Her name was Petal, that’s what she went by on stage. She was 6 years older than him and ruined their relationship fairly quickly, broke his heart and dared him to do anything about it.

“Jimin,” She scurries from the pole and over to him with a panic on her face, “what’re you doing here?”

“You look stunning,” He gives her a charming smile, “did you just start your shift? Your little costume is still on, and there are no bills in your…thong,”

“You need to go, please,” She adjusts her fuzzy pink cowgirl hat, “I can’t talk,”

“Hey, get back on the stage, beautiful!” A drunk 40-something yells from the crowd.

“Where’s your husband? I thought you two bought a house and had a few babies already, what’re you doing out here still selling yourself?”

“He left me, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear, now leave! I’m trying to work,”

She struts back on the stage, wishing she could hide from the piercing gaze that lingered on her.

“Oh,” Jimin shakes his head in disbelief, “so you cheated on him throughout your entire so-called engagement, lying straight to his face, claiming I forced you into fucking me and got me beaten unconscious, just so he could leave you?”

She tries to ignore him and focus on the music, it’s painful enough to be found out, let alone have to continue working.

“Petal,” Jimin leans against the stage corner, she ignores him, “Youjin,” She shudders at her real name, “your boss is watching, we both know you can’t keep a job so don’t mess this up by ignoring a paying customer.” He suddenly pulls out a hundred dollar bill, waving it around like a treat.

She crawls over to the edge of the stage and he tucks the bill into her bra strap. “Good girl,”

That night, he got his revenge. She experienced a fraction of the humiliation she put him through.

Jimin had a rough life. He was often placed as an after thought or a secondary option by the people who used him. His identity had been thrown in a blender his entire life, he was different people for so many different people. His pain and vengeance manifested itself in self-destructive habits that slowly ate away at him. To be on the receiving end of his pain, like Youjin and so many others, was a punishment more damaging to ones mind than ones body. He loved to please at any cost, even at the cost of himself. Was it his fault?

His past weighs heavily on him.

A knock on the door interrupts the first sip of his freshly brewed black coffee.

“Dr. Jeon? It’s Agent Ban, I have a 10 o’clock with you.”

“Come in,”

She opens the office door, revealing her tall figure in a black pant-suit and heels.

“Thank you, I appreciate you taking the time to speak with me this morning,” She takes a seat and pulls out a tablet, “I know you’re very busy with everything that’s going on.”

“Of course,” He smiles, “I assume this is about my brother?”

“Not exactly,” She crosses her legs and pulls out a pen, “I am perusing a separate case that is loosely connected to that one.” ^

”Alright, then how can I help?”

“Your hospital is the most frequented for emergency medical treatment within a 10 mile radius, I wanted to ask if Jeon Jungkook was admitted with anyone.”

”From what I can remember, he had just been in a car accident and I was told he arrived with someone but that person had been checked out before I got to see him. And unfortunately, during the checkout, our systems were down so we have no record of the individual other than the fact that she was a female.”

”I see,” She writes some things down, “that’s all I need to know, thank you.”

“That’s it?” He was expecting more than that but she confirms that she’s gathered what she needs.

“For now, yes, but I’ll be in contact.”

She leaves the hospital and hops back in her car to head to her next location. The police department.

“Can I take a look at all of your current missing persons files? Those who are still missing and those who were found, if you have that available.”

“Sure,” The cop takes her to the file storage and gives her a key, “that drawer has all of the victims who were found over the past year and the bulletin board has the most recent cases that are not yet concluded.”

She takes her time going through the files. There are too many, too many girls not being taken on as priorities. By the time the cops get to them, it’s too late and the damage is done. The more she looks, the farther she feels from her victim. As she sifts through the photos, she has a moment of realization. If the girl is involved with the mafia and they want to keep her identity a secret, there’s no way her relatives would report her as a missing person.

Where could you be?

*

Morning came and the abrupt awakening set your day off in the worst way. The rain is hammering down on the house and Jungkook is waking you with a shake to your shoulder.

“Wake up, we have to go,” He looks you over, “we found a rat last night.”

You look up with squinted eyes, barely gathering what he said. “B- But…I thought,”

“There are eyes on this place so we have to leave. Get dressed,” He hands you some clothes for you go to the bathroom to get freshened up. This is happening all over again. You’re picking up and leaving the place you started to feel comfortable in.

“Wait, Jungkook,” You attempt to grab his hand but he slips away, “I need to talk to you,”

“Be downstairs in 10 minutes,”

The door slams shut and you get dressed with a thought weighing in your mind. If Jungkook doesn’t want to talk, fine. You were supposed to talk to Yoongi, you can’t leave without talking to him.

*

“Jungkook will go with me, Hoseok and Taehyung will go together,” Namjoon relays his plan to his best friend and co-leader, “Jimin should go with you, you need someone with the best combat skills, next to Jungkook of course.”

“And Y/n?” Yoongi brings up a valid question.

“What about her?”

“Where should she go?”

“Wherever Jungkook goes, it’s one a way to keep him under control,” Joon lets out a sigh, “but maybe she should go with you, you are teaching her and Jimin is training her.”

“Yeah, she should,” He agrees, “You tell the kid, I’ll talk to her.”

The kid—Namjoon giggles, he hasn’t heard that in a long time.

No one wants to deal with Jungkook’s possessiveness. That’s why Yoongi and Jungkook never got along. Jungkook was a bit too spoiled by Namjoon. He took Jungkook under his wing and treated him like he could do no wrong. Jungkook knew he had Namjoon wrapped around his finger.

It was his weakness.

*

“Where are we going?”Jungkook asks as he paces idly in the foyer, waiting for you.

“You and I are taking a trip to see a friend of mine in Japan, I think we can discuss moving half of our business over there.”

“How long?”

“Maybe three days? Could be more. We could be there for months, it depends. I like to socialize a bit before getting into the nitty gritty of business, that’s how we keep our clients.”

“Months? Y/n’s gonna give me shit when she finds out-“

“No she won’t,”

“What makes you say that?”

“She’s not coming with us,”

“Why not?” Jungkook frowns.

“Yoongi has really taken her under his wing, isn’t that sweet? He’s taking her with him, it’s best for all of us.”

“How? He doesn’t know her like that-“

“If Jin decides to go after her again, the last place he’ll think to look is anywhere far from you, he’ll think she’s with you but she’ll be with Yoongi.”

“He can find out where she is, if we had a mole then there’s obviously a way he can get that information, it won’t matter.”

“Y/n isn’t coming with us, as a member, she goes where I want her to go or where Yoongi wants her to go, she wants to go with him anyway.”

“How the hell would you know that? Did you talk to her?”

“I saw her leave his room last night, he said they talked, he didn’t say about what but I can put two and two together.”

“She was with him last night?”

“She didn’t tell you?”

“No, there’s a lot of shit she’s not telling me,”

As if things couldn’t get any worse.

*

You hold onto the stairwell, walking slowly in hopes to not be detected. Namjoon is the first to see you, the brief eye contact was awkward. What makes it more awkward is Jungkook staring you down. It’s not the sweet, starry-eyed gaze, it’s cold.

“Is everything ok?” You walk up to Jungkook, trying to draw out a sweet expression, it doesn’t work. He stands up, brows furrowed as if you had just spouted out utter nonsense.

“I don’t know,” He looks you up and down, “you tell me.”

“What?” You look bewildered, “what do you mean?

“Have you been cheating on me? Because your stories aren’t adding up, tell me the truth,”

Your chest tightens and you ball your fist to release your sudden influx of frustration. You feel a bit embarrassed that Namjoon is watching this unfold.

“No- no,” You stutter, “why would you say that?”

He grabs your wrist and drags you into a random bedroom.

“Hey!” Ryan, the bleach-blonde buzz cut guy who came with Hoseok was in the middle of getting dressed. Jungkook spares him no mind. “You’re fucking crazy man,” He scurries out, struggling to put his shirt on in a state of shock.

“J-Jungkook, what’re you doing?” You swallow.

“You don’t make sense,” He confesses starkly, “you don’t make any fucking sense and it’s making me crazy,” He presses his temples.

You saw this coming. You wished you hadn’t.

“I used to be so sure about you, about us. I knew you were the one that I loved no matter what, you could do anything and I would forgive you, that’s how I felt just yesterday. Now, I don’t know if I can take it anymore. You don’t know what you want or who you are and you expect me to do something about it and I can’t!” He laments, “I can protect you and I can love you but I can’t fix all of your problems and that’s how you treat me, it’s not fair.”

“I never asked you to fix my problems,” You reply bitterly, “I wanted your support, you get upset when I confide in other people but when I confide in you, you don’t care,”

“Those other people don’t care about you,” He walks up to stand in front of your face, “other than you being Jin’s sister, they don’t give a shit about you, don’t you get that? Just because people accept you into something, doesn’t mean they care, they just want something from you-“

“That’s not true!” You cut him off angrily, “you don’t want them to care about me, that’s the real issue. I’m more than just your girlfriend,” Your nose burns as tears well up in your eyes, “I don’t want to just be yours, I want to be myself again,”

“You being mine, has kept you safe,” His tone sharpens, “do you know what could have happened to you if I didn’t let you stay with me?” He snorts. “You’d be a whore making money for everyone but yourself, that could have happened to you but I chose you. I fucking chose you and now…”

“Now what?” You dare.

“I’m not so sure I should have,” It pains him to admit it, “I wanted you, I wanted you so fucking bad, it killed me not to have you. Part of me was glad you came with no strings attached, no family no friends, you had nothing,” He confesses, “and I liked that about you, I didn’t want you to be someone apart from me, I wanted you to mean us,”

Jungkook is selfish.

To have you, was to love you. Was it not the same anymore? Now, you’re responding as if he has trapped you here and it feels awful.

“Do you hear yourself? Do you know how terrible that sounds to me? I loved you, all this time I stayed by your side because I thought this was love,” You breathe, “had I known you didn’t even see me as my own person and that you like that I lost my old life, I would have left you a long time ago,” You feel tears stream down your cheeks, but you’re unable to stop them from flowing, “and I’m always crying, every time we talk I end up crying,” You bite the inside of your lip.

“I was never a crier before you, I was happy, I was a good person before you,” You wipe your cheeks, anger and frustration bubbling in your chest, “my identity is gone and it’s your fault!You took it from me, you ruined everything for me!”

The emotion that has been harboring inside of you has finally come out.

“Then leave!” He shoots back. “If I’m such torture to be with then fucking leave,” He says with pain and anger in his tone, he’s hurting.

“Go fuck Jimin, fuck anyone- I don’t care anymore, I’m sure you’ve already done that. You keep lying. You lied to me just last night, you were with Yoongi and chances are you were with Jimin too, why did you lie?”

You swallow.

“If- if I would have told you the truth, you would have blown up like this, we didn’t do anything- Jimin is the one who came to me and I couldn’t stop him-“

“Stop him from what?”

“Does it matter? I can’t stop him from doing anything to me! I can’t- I can’t fight him, when he’s around I can’t do anything,”

“Bullshit,” He grits his teeth, “you made me believe he was the one who initiated all that shit, I’m starting to think that you wanted it…”

“I didn’t,” You press, “I just didn’t know what to do-“

“Stop, just stop,” He cuts you off, “I don’t believe you anymore,”

He’s beyond hurt.

All the times he’s found out that you and Jimin met behind his back, it’s laughable.

The first time he did it, you were relieved.

—

“Yah!” You were pulled back by a pair of arms wrapping around you. “Jung-” You tried to call for Jungkook but you were silenced by a hand clamping over your mouth. Now you were panicking, this can’t be happening now.

“Shh…baby, it’s just me.” He let you go. You quickly turned around to see Jimin with a small smile. He smiled at the cute face he once coaxed out of pain.

“Jimin? You scared me…” You stepped away shyly.

“I’m sorry.” He held onto your hands and tilted his head, smiling warmly.

“W-what’re you doing here?” You knitted your brows in confusion, it’s not like you weren’t happy to see him but why was he here and how did he find you?

"I just wanted to see you.“ He was looking you over and you were wearing a familiar jacket that was far too big to be your own, "Jungkook? You’re here with Jungkook?” You nodded.

“Well, I should go before he gets suspicious.” Your heart sank, you knew that Jimin probably knew where Jin was and you wanted to go with him for that reason. “But-”

“Don’t worry baby,” He pecked your cheek, “I’ll come to see you again.”

—

He kept that promise.

He never stopped coming back and it’s only gotten you into trouble.

“Fine, if you’re not going to trust me then what’s the point of us anymore?”

“Y/n,” He says your name like a curse, “all the time and effort I put in to trying to love you, to make things easier for you—and this is who you really are? I fucking liar, did I make you into this?” His voice lowers, “because if so, I won’t do this to you anymore, if this is it, make it clear, tell me you don’t want me so I can breathe again,”

The blame has to go somewhere—you had to choose.

“I don’t want to-“

“Say my name,” He demands, “at least give me that.”

“J- Jungkook,” You utter his name out painfully, “I don’t want to be with you anymore…Not like this.”

He walks up to you and presses his hand against the wall, right beside your head. Your gazes are locked on, you both know this may be the last time you’re this close. He drags his hand from the side of your head to your cheek.

One last touch.

“That’s it then,” He exhales deeply, voice nearly too low to hear, “I’m sorry, you’re not the same person I fell in love with…I don’t know who you are.”

He walks out of the bedroom, leaving you alone. Just like you wanted. Your heart was broken to begin with, not just Jungkook’s doing, but as soon as you left the safety of your family, your heart began to break.

Jungkook storms out of the house and slams the door in his wake.

You walk out of the room but you are stopped by Namjoon blacking the doorway.

“Hey, sounded like things were getting pretty heated in here,” He tilts his head, “what’s going on? Are you two in a fight-“

“We just broke up,” You frown, “so whatever sick idea you had when you forced us together, it’s over.”

You try to push past him but you’re quickly reminded of his size and strength, he stops you in your tracks.

“Wait,” He holds your wrist in his hand, “seriously?” The look on his face in genuine surprise.

“Yes, now let go,” You pull against him, “I need to talk to Yoongi,”

“Is that why you were in his room last night? You told him you wanted to go with him right?”

“Yes,” You lie straight through your teeth, “will you please let go of me?”

Just as soon as you step away, the worst happens. The worst always happens.

“Hey! There’s a van a thugs outside and they’re armed,” Ryan bursts through the doors, “Hoseok and Taehyung left an hour ago, why’re you guys still here!?”

Before a, ‘what?’ can escape from your lips, a group of men in masks and with guns barge into the house, knocking Ryan clean out. About five gives waiting around to guard Namjoon come out with guns ablaze. There’s no time to process anything because Namjoon is already dragging you behind him and out of the house.

Within seconds he stops at the side of the house and you gasp for air.

“Wait,” You grab his sleeve, still struggling to catch your breath, “I need a gun, give me a gun, please! I can’t do anything like this,”

No more being protected off on the sidelines. You have to fight too.

“Here,” He pulls it from the holster attached to his thigh, “you better know how to use it.”

“Yoongi’s still inside,” Your eyes glaze over in sheet horror, “we have to go back, he could die-“

“No,” Namjoon knows this for a fact, “he’ll get out, compared to what he’s used to, this is a walk in the park,”

The Yoongi he knows has done this a dozen times and survived a dozen times, that’s just what he does. You take his word for it, you don’t have a choice.

With all those people in the house, you’d think they’d make some noise but it’s eerily quiet.

“Why is it so quiet?” You whisper.

“Shh,” He holds a finger to his lips, “they’re looking for someone and it’s not me or you,”

You feel your nose burn with the urge to cry at the thought, “Is- is it Yoongi?”

“Hush, I don’t know,”

“But-…” You fall silent when you feel a hand grab yours. When you look back and see Yoongi, your worries are soothed.

“Switch with me,” Yoongi stalks behind you, you and Namjoon share a sigh of relief, “you’ve used this one before,” he takes your hand and switches the guns.

“We need to make a break for the cars,” Namjoon leads the two of you to the driveway and garage.

“Y/N! Y/N!?”

The three of you pause and quickly realize who’s screaming your name.

“What the hell is he doing? Does he want to get killed,” Yoongi sneers.

“He probably thinks you’re still inside,” Namjoon concludes, “You guys go, I’ll get him.”

The car you assumed he was in is still running but no one is in the drivers seat. The closer you all get, you can see blood on the seats, who’s blood is that? You look to see if there are any body’s but there’s no one, did everyone rush inside?

“Yoongi, do you think they killed someone? All that blood…” You whisper as you follow him and he holds his phone to his ear.

“Our driver is down the road at that abandoned barn,” He puts the phone away, “we have to run, you’re gonna hear a lot of gunshots, but keep running.”

Yoongi took your hand and made a run for it. It’s nearly daybreak, the grass is covered in dew and the sun has yet to supply a decent amount of warmth. Just as he said, you hear the gunshots ring and you feel Yoongi’s hand tighten.

“Maybe we should wait for them? I’m afraid something will happen if we don’t stay and help, I’m scared-“

“No, we’re not waiting, we’re leaving now.”

The driver beckons you both over, hands secure on the wheel. Yoongi, despite his condition, pushes you into the car before himself. He tells the driver to go and he pulls off at an ungodly speed.

The car passes the house and all you see is an unconscious Jungkook being rushed out of the house and into the van.

“No, no, what’s happening,” You press your hands to the window and stare wide-eyed, “he’s not moving.”

[weirdthinkingdragon]

Dragons’ Biggest Treasure

Yandere dragon shifter erasermic x reader

Fantasy AU

Here’s a long one for you guys! (10k) FINALLY WROTE A FIC AGAIN! YAY!(hahaha I’m so exhausted)

Warnings: Swearing, graphic fights and scenes, multiple character deaths (not EraserMic or reader), harm towards reader (again, not by EraserMic. Well, mostly), burn mentions (with dragons it’s gonna happen), and a handful of times about eardrums bursting (the harm towards reader by EraserMic). As well as dragon abuse. This does have much darker stuff than I usually write. Also a slow start for the yandere stuff. Pretty happy with the details in it. Hope you guys like it!

dragonerasermicdragonerasermicdragonerasermicdragon- *gets smacked*

These two as yandere dragons will now forever rot in my head. Hng, why have I not thought of it sooner!? Just THINKING of them as yandere dragons makes brain go brrr. Obviously going to write them as yandere dragon shifters again at some point. More than once too.

----------------------------------------

I’m close to the entrance gates to the kingdom ruled by a man that calls himself All For One. No one knows his real name. He’s a sick bastard that no one wants to be around, but no one can do anything since he’s a lot smarter than he looks with that damn mask over his head. My job by him is to heal dragons after their fights he forces them into, like the most recent one who is incredibly injured in front of me. He likes them by the entrance to torture them with the taste of freedom they will never get from the enchanted chains wrapped all over them. 

While using my natural healing abilities that are actually a pretty rare thing, there is a commotion over towards the gates. The large metal doors open to reveal many men on horses and even a few on their feet holding ropes, pulling something large behind them. I sadly already know what’s being brought in. A saddened sigh escapes me at the sight of two new dragons that are heavily wounded being dragged in through the gates at the end of the ropes. More dragons that are bound to reach their unfortunate fate until they die. 

Looking a bit closer, there are arrows sticking out of the two of them, and blood trailing on the ground. Both of their bodies are black, but one has everything black but a grey underbelly. Instead of spines, it has a feather-like long mane that is also black. The skin on their wings matches the grey of their underbelly. It’s impossible to know the eye color since they’re asleep for the moment. 

The other quite possibly has the largest yellow spines I have ever seen. The same with his horns, they’re curved upwards at a slight angle. Their underbelly, as well as their wings match the color of the spines and horns. There are odd scales around their eyes with orange closer to the center, and a white outer rim, almost like it’s wearing sunglasses. 

The dragon I was tending to just curls itself as much as it can away from me after healing it a small amount. I was ordered to only heal them enough for their wounds to not need stitching so they will still be rather weak to even try escaping. Why he would need enchanted chains then I have absolutely no clue. He takes a sick pleasure in his favorite dragons having such an advantage in the arena. 

I lock eyes with Masura who gives me a giant sadistic smile in return. He enjoys hurting dragons way too much. A few have even ended up dying on the way here from wherever he and the others keep finding them. 

“Brought some fresh meat for you to take care of. These two put up an incredible fight. Can’t wait to see what they will do in the arena.” 

He and the others go to the line of chains near me and hook them all over the two dragons, including the specially created muzzle. Specially created by it having holes so they can dip their snout in the trough of water and get it in that way, and fire can’t get through. Feeding is still a bit of a problem though. Especially since I’m stuck being in charge of that as well. So many times being bitten or burned from having to remove it for that time. 

I gently rub the scarred burn on my right forearm from a problem with an incredibly feisty and almost explosive yellow dragon before. Miraculously, he was the first and only dragon to escape alive. Then again, it was the turn of a different caretaker that night who ended up sentenced to death for it. 

They quickly leave to let me tend to the injured duo. I sigh and quickly finish up the one in front of me with a rather large wound on its right hind leg. The bucket of healing water I enchanted helped the wound close up to a point. It can sadly easily be ripped open, which it obviously will tomorrow in its next fight. I would love nothing more than to be able to heal them better than I have to. There are serious consequences if it’s found out I did though. Emi was proof of that. Despite her joking personality, she really cared for the dragons. That was her downfall when a dragon was healed too much and almost overpowered one of All For One’s most prided dragons. Can’t remember which, but I’m pretty sure it was the female dragon named “Toga”. She- no. Don’t think about Emi’s final screams of pain. 

I scan over the two dragons to see who is worse off. By far it seems to be the black one with the mane instead of spines. The most concerning is the arrow that seems to be in one of its lungs. It’s going to die if I don’t do something. I don’t want it to die so soon. Well, I do, yet I don’t. Do just so they don’t have to suffer fighting in battles, but don’t since they have such a long life to live yet. I just wish they’d be able to really be free after being caught. 

Damn it, I might get into so much trouble for this… 

A bright green glow comes from my hands as I wrap one around the arrow and one on its underside right next to the arrow. A quick and firm tug is able to get it out. I quickly enhance my healing power further to fully heal this one wound. 

Not even a scar is left behind. Hopefully, they forgot the arrow was around there when they brought the dragons. I lean on the wall to steel my groundings from being exhausted from it. Ugh, it’s been too long since I’ve done that. My body is no longer used to my own powers. How sad. I’m the only one known for being born with such power. Emi was gifted it by enchantment by All For One. How he has the power to do that no one wants to know. We all just know he does, and he gets whatever he wants since no one can stop him. 

After collecting myself for a moment, I scan the rest of their injuries and find out both of them are male. The maned one has more slashes on him than arrows, but the other has an incredible amount of arrows. Luckily, none of them are in vital places though. 

The already reddened bucket shows it doesn’t have much more healing capabilities. I’m going to have to get a new one for healing. As long as it’s clear, the water covers the rag in a way it can close wounds. It’s an odd thing that somehow works and helps the healer keep more of their energy. 

I decide to leave for a minute and refill the bucket. After dumping out the blood water, I refill it from the rather clean river that runs through this place. Using my healing ability, I stick my hand in the fresh freezing water and stir it around to leave a green glow for a moment. It will quickly warm up in this rather hot weather. 

I go towards the two again to finish up their wounds. What surprises me is both have already woken up and are glaring at me greatly upon entrance. The maned one has the most piercing steel-white-like eyes I’ve ever seen. The other has bright green with an odd circle swirl in them I’ve never seen before. Have to say they almost seem a bit hypnotic. 

The wonder doesn’t last long though as the green-eyed one lets out a noise that greatly hurts my ears. With that sound and this close proximity, my eardrums more likely than not just burst with the severe pain that came with it. A few tears threaten to escape with a pain I’m not used to.

The mask wasn’t made for dragons with a sound ability! We’ve never had one of these! Why didn’t Masura warn me!? Or more importantly, how wasn’t he heard before being dragged here with how loud he is!?

With my hands instinctively on my ears to try preventing it from bursting my eardrums again though it would be useless, All For One enters right after. Out of nowhere he summons another enchanted chain that wraps around his snout, preventing him from doing the same… Screaming? Shouting? Whatever that ability is to be used again. 

He waits for a minute for me to heal my eardrums before attempting to speak to me. 

I nearly start shaking as his head turns towards the non-wound area on the maned one. Masura must have informed him or slipped up talking about it. 

Quick, I have to save my own skin! “I had to remove the arrow and fully heal it, otherwise it would have died from the arrow puncturing its lung, as you most likely knew already. I understand that’s no worry for you, but it would have been rather annoying if he died before being in even one fight to watch, right?” Oh please tell me that works! 

A dead silence looms for a second before All For One turns towards me and gives me a curt nod. I almost heaved a sigh of relief. Almost being the key word. I held it in to make sure it wouldn’t annoy him. Probably wouldn’t, but it’s safer to not take a chance. 

He creates another muzzle that’s more fitting for this dragon. He removes the chain around the snout and puts it on before he can get snapped at, or possibly screamed at? By said dragon. The belt part is wrapped rather tightly around his snout, making it look impossible for him to even move his jaw. At least the other has a bit of loose room for it to open ever so slightly so it doesn’t become stiff. That one is going to be a lot harder to take off for feeding them.

As if All For One could read my thoughts, which is terrifying to think, he glances at me. "You have a healing ability. If it screams with the muzzle removed, heal yourself. Don’t disappoint me." He then walks off. Probably to his dragons that he treats like gods to keep them loyal to him. Even one of them being obsessed with blood getting a human a week to feast upon. Usually, it’s prisoners that have tried to kill All For One or “dragon liberators” that caught wind of how he treats most of the dragons and tried to free them. Obviously with no succession. 

I let out the unknown breath being held. Man, he’s terrifying and can suffocate someone by just his presence alone. The maned one looked almost worried at the other one while he almost seemed to be panicking with the tight muzzle around his snout. Can’t blame him. Imagine being in something similar. I’d be scared too. 

His glance shifted from the still-panicking dragon towards me, glaring ten times worse than before. I sigh. “Don’t look at me like that. I don’t want you two to be here anymore than you do.” Can dragons even understand human speech? The explosive one that burned me before almost seemed like he did, but maybe it was just my imagination. The other turns towards me and tries to scream, or whatever it is again with no succession. Makes me wonder if he hasn’t had a similar experience somehow in the past. Ugh, thinking of that just makes me feel worse. Finally free only to be dragged back to somewhere that will probably be worse. 

Saying “probably” because there are no branding marks or dents in their wrists from ropes that are usually on dragons from other places.

They’re probably already going to be fighting in the arena tomorrow. Thinking about that reminds me of how exhausted I am from healing the maned one. It’s going to be good for them to get names tomorrow in the arena. Already tired of trying to think of what to call them separately. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------

I was right. Miraculously, All For One wanted it to be the last fight of the day involving those two. He wants me to be there to take off the loud one’s muzzle for every fight now and in the future. Starting to hate my healing ability now. 

The chains are still wrapped around the two, and they’re led into different stalls for the arena. Of course, I was left alone with the loud one. Don’t know how that could POSSIBLY go wrong. Note the sarcasm. At least All For One was able to make it where the chains are held on the sturdy walls until he can let them leave. His sound should be plenty enough signal for All For One to release him. 

He looks at me as I reach up to take the muzzle off. He stays quiet for a moment once it’s off, moving his more than likely stiff jaw around. There’s already a slight dent around his snout and jaw. 

I shake my head disappointedly. “This is beyond fucking inhumane.” Leaving him waiting, my body goes towards the doors in front of him and opens them. They lead into the arena, which has a net high up in the air so dragons can’t fly away. Not like they could anyway with how fast All For One can summon chains to drag them to the ground. 

The peace wasn’t kept long though as he uses his ability again. The chains snapped free off of him and he immediately charged out into the arena, where the other already was. Wait, he’s having double dragon fights? That’s new. He’s never done that before. On the other side of the arena, The wounded one from yesterday and a very feisty solid white one were on the other side. The white one looked like it was too eager to try to kill. The two closer to me were more on edge and almost seem like they really don’t want to fight the other two. 

They didn’t get the chance to reject though as the white one immediately lunges towards them. They separate and dodge out of the way of it. It keeps snapping and blowing ice towards the maned one. He slams his front claws on the snout of it to prevent the ice from freezing him or the other. He screams at the ice dragon. It’s not as loud as it was when he yelled at me yesterday. 

It’s almost as if… They’re more humane? This doesn’t make sense. Dragons are usually down to fight to the death, even when not healed much. At least, that’s what seemed to be until these two. 

I look towards the other one who doesn’t seem to want to fight, but it knows as well as I this fight will go on until at least one dies. 

As the two new dragons kept easily dodging and not striking too hard back, the crowd watching are not too happy with the lack of injuries. Some booing, and others even attempting to throw their held items like food at the dragons. The loud one snaps and uses his ability towards the crowd, almost or possibly even louder than yesterday. At least that shut them up. 

I lean against the right door and snicker. “Serves them right.” For a quick second, the loud one turns his head towards me. There’s no way he could have heard me, right? Especially with that ability. Or maybe his body was born with being able to stand it? Super hearing yet super loud yelling doesn’t make sense to have though. Dragons are incredibly strange in the ways their bodies work. It’s also quite possible to just be thinking too much. 

Fuck it, don’t think too much about that. 

The wounded one from yesterday half-heartedly swipes at the maned one.  Even he seems to notice the odd behavior of the wounded dragon. Then again, three out of the four are acting a way I’ve never seen before. I look up towards the “throne” All For One has. He’s shaking his head and points towards the other side of the arena. The male with glasses sitting next to him nods and lifts one of the levers next to him. 

Oh no. Not already. 

Two familiar dragons exit the cell they were comfortably kept in. They’re not his top ones, but still get the job done in killing dragons when given the chance. He calls them Spinner and… I think the other was Moon something if remembered correctly. He’s not used as often as others, so his name isn’t exactly remembered. Calling him Moon is enough for me. 

The crowd goes wild for the two. They know things get messy when Moon gets let out because of his freakish weird teeth ability. And… How he eats parts of dragons he kills. 

In speaking of killing, immediately those two go for the kill. The wounded one didn’t stand a chance and had its neck snapped instantly by Spinner. Moon something lashes its teeth out and almost punctures the ice dragon. 

Just watching the moon one move is quite unnerving. He’s so insanely fast and agile. Still wondering why he’s basically bound in a way. Then again, he’s at least twice as unhinged as Toga. I fear how fast he might be if he wasn’t bound. 

In the blink of an eye, these two were much more defensive as the teeth blades went to strike them again. The ice dragon stopped going for them, and tries going after Moon Something. Ugh, what was that something? MoonFresh? No. MoonFlesh? I don’t think so. 

He makes his teeth curve like a hook and tries again towards the ice dragon. It dodges again. Wait, hook… Fishing… MoonFish! That’s what it was! 

I feel like slapping myself stupid for forgetting that. 

Spinner jumps onto the wall and tries to use that to sneak up on the loud one. It doesn’t work as he was focused on Spinner as soon as the two new ones entered. He moves out of the way and instead of screaming, screeches this time. It’s much higher and worse than any sound he’s made yet. The maned one doesn’t even flinch, but the other three definitely do. Spinner was right beside the loud one. He recoils in obvious pain and stands there shaking his head. 

It hurt my ears as well, but this time it didn’t make them burst, surprisingly. I don’t think the same could be said for Spinner. They have internal ears, so I’m not exactly sure if they burst, or whatever it is their species’ ears do. 

I look up to see All For One leaning a bit forward in his chair, now taking slight interest. Moonfish recovers incredibly quickly and lunges his teeth again. This time it punctures right through the ice dragon’s chest as they did a final ice breath. At the same time, a few land on the other two, causing some decently deep cuts. The ice breath freezes the rest of MoonFish’s body. 

The maned one wastes no time in swiping his tail towards the frozen body, shattering it upon impact. 

The crowd goes eerily quiet. Looking at All For One, he remains indifferent. It’s too hard to tell his emotions about what just happened. Spinner tries again to sneak behind the two and breathe his fire. The two seem so focused on the death of three dragons in one fight. Are they not used to it? 

They still haven’t noticed Spinner on the wall. At least I thought. The loud one instantly turns and rears onto his back legs and slams Spinner onto the ground with an almost punch-like move of his right talon. 

Before anything can be done, these two are chained again. The loud one being yanked off of Spinner, who instantly retreats back towards the open gate he came from. I’m honestly a little disappointed he wasn’t finished off as well. 

I sigh and go towards the stalls again, preparing to heal them. An already created healing bucket sitting in the same spot I used for them yesterday. 

It doesn’t take long for the two to be dragged in again by Masura and the bunch of… well, meatheads to say the least. I swear none of them even think half the time about anything. The two are definitely fighting and struggling with the men. 

The loud one goes to use his ability again. “Pipe down you overgrown lizard!” Masura punches the dragon in the jaw as hard as he can. It makes a sickening “crack” noise. 

The maned one gets pissed and starts snapping at him as well. The only reason I can think of why he’d do that is he knows the other one. Why didn’t I make the connection sooner? These two must know each other! 

Masura rolls his eye at them. So glad some good dragons before were able to take out one of his eyes. If only they could have taken out both. The chains get put where they were before, making the two unable to move much again. 

I’d put the muzzle on the loud one, but with his now broken or dislocated jaw it wouldn’t be the best and needs to be healed first. I can tell Masura is itching to punch one of them again. 

He stands there and smirks with his arms crossed as I dip the rag into the bucket. The loud one’s jaw is first. That’s now by far the most concerning injury. Looking a bit closer, it is definitely dislocated. I shake my head in disapproval at Masura while remaining eye contact with the dragon. It almost feels like he’s able to read me. “Did you seriously have to dislocate his jaw?” 

“Heh, the damn thing deserved it for trying to use their voice at me,” I roll my eyes at his comment. Of fucking course he’d try to use his ability. We kidnapped, or more like dragonnapped him and are forcing him to fight other dragons. I’d use anything I could too. “Not everyone has a goody-perfect healing thing like you either,” he continued. 

I shrug, then gently try to grab his lower jaw to try setting it back in place. “I’d just have to heal your sorry ass.” 

“Tch, my sorry ass? You’re the one who always seems to get all buddy-buddy with dragons. You heal them too gently. You’re the one with a sorry ass.” 

Cue my sarcastic mode. “Oh, I’m sorry for calling you a sorry ass. I must so clearly be the worst one since I’d rather not have dragons fight me all the time like you,” There was another sickening “crack” as its jaw was put back into place. The dragon hisses in obvious pain. I bring up the rag to the side of his jaw to try quickly relieving it. “Easy bud,” I try to whisper to make Masura not hear. Thankfully he didn’t seem to since he didn’t comment on it.  “We can’t all think with our muscles rather than with our brains. Nothing would get done right,” I continue, but this time out loud. The loud dragon lets out a snort. 

His footsteps go away, indicating he left. Probably upset. Good. I roll my eyes at him as I look over the dragon’s jaw. Good as new. Good thing about that is there’s not really any way to tell if I healed it all the way or not. Broken or dislocated bones are crazy enough easier and faster to heal than wounds. How that works with leaving the layer right under cut open and easily able to tear open again, but heals bone instantly is beyond me. 

Looking around and closing any other wounds, I then go to the maned one. He nips at me to try getting my hands away. It’s far more gentle and human-like than the others that have tried to bite me before. Almost like he’s telling me he doesn’t want to be healed by human hands. Understandable. 

… wait a minute. Bite, or opening jaw… I look towards the loud one and flinch, preparing for his voice. Of course I can heal, but it still hurts. My shoulders even tense upwards. It never comes. Looking at him, he still just looks at me. 

Well, now I’m in a dilemma. Do I put on the muzzle now, and possibly break this trust or whatever he seems to somehow already be giving me, or leave it off and possibly get yelled at later by him, or even someone coming in to see him without his muzzle? 

Ugh, I might regret this. Might as well risk it for now. I can just lie that it was forgotten to be put on if someone asks about it. Turning back to this one, I heal him anyways. He makes a slight hissing fuss but accepts it after a moment. After finishing, I leave to get them some raw meat to eat. Sadly, the biggest thing available is some moderately sized fish. They don’t seem like river or ocean dragons, so chunks of deer will have to do. It gets placed down not too far from them. They look at me warily for a bit. Maybe they don’t want me to watch them eat? It’s time for me to leave anyway. 

Ugh, but the muzzles… Hopefully, they’ll eat when I’m away for a bit. I have a stupid idea I’ve never done before. Sleeping beside the dragons. Walking out lets me give that a little more thought. At least one night to see how they do couldn’t hurt. But first, there is a need to talk to All For One about their names.

I enter the area he usually is with his prized dragons. Most are pretty indifferent to me, except for Toga who has tried to stab me more than once with her blade-like tail. 

I stand behind him awkwardly while he pats Spinner’s right shoulder. “They’re both… Interesting to say the least. A shame for Moonfish, but the ones tomorrow will be entertaining as well. Let’s see if they can handle Toga and Dabi.” Dread slightly seeps into me. He’s already making them face all his most dangerous ones? 

“What about their names if you decide to manipulate them after and keep them as pawns?” 

He shakes his head. “I have enough pawns. The audience has decided on Shatter for the loud one, and Lion for the other..” 

… What? “Lion?” 

“Must be the hair on it. I don’t name the things. The people do. The one thing they do have control over.” Which is beyond sad. Fucking tyrant. 

I nod in reply. “Sounds good.” After that, I leave before he could say or do anything else. The less around him the better, even if he hasn’t done anything negative towards me yet.  

Upon entering the same place again, they did eventually eat the meat while I was gone. That’s good. There’s an open area a bit to the left and away from the dragons. I plan on laying there for the night. It’s only to make sure no one comes in and sees them without their muzzles. No one but me knows a feeding schedule so it’s a good lie saying they were just fed. I’ve decided to think they can understand human speech, even if they don’t. They’re more pleasant to talk to than most people around. 

“All right you two, I normally don’t do this, but I’ll be sleeping in here a bit away from the both of you for a few nights. My back won’t appreciate it, but I sure hope you two do. It’s only because I’d rather not put those muzzles back on,” I look at the still slightly dented skin of Shatter. Damn, and that was only for like what? Half a day of him wearing it? “But if someone comes in, I will have to temporarily put them back on. Please don’t fight it too much.” 

Shatter tilts his head in an almost cute type of way. Well, that’s certainly unique. I go over to the corner and sit down against the wall. Leaning slightly back so my back fully touches it, and tilt my head up. My ass won’t be too happy tomorrow either. Maybe bringing my pillow for tomorrow night or something will help. 

---------------------------------------------------------

I am rudely woken up by something sharp stabbing my foot. Looking down, it’s a feisty Bombay kitten biting and clawing at it. Where did it come from? Another thing noticed is my body is now fully laying sideways on the ground. “Ouch! Hey there you little feisty thing.” I go to grab it, and it notices. It then takes off towards the dragons, making my heart sink thinking it’s about to become a tiny snack for one of them. Strange enough, neither do. Lion just looks at it in an almost caring way. Shatter looks at Lion in a way I can’t fully understand. 

Looking outside, the sun is just starting to fully show. That means in just a few hours the arena fights will begin again. Knowing All For One, he’s going to save these two for last again. Turning back to the two, Lion has one of his claws gently extended for the kitten to play with. That is once again extremely odd behavior for a dragon. Maybe everything known about them is wrong? 

“Be careful today. I was informed of who you two will be fighting. They’re much more dangerous than the other two yesterday. One has fire hot enough to burn scales off dragons. The other is agile and very good at injuring.” 

They just look at me. 

A few fights have already passed, and my anxiety increases for the two. I’ve already had to heal the other dragons that fought today. Except for the ones that died. Getting really tired of seeing so many die for no cause other than the sick entertainment of humans. 

The muzzles were already temporarily put back on the two. Shatter’s is rather loose, just to help him not freak out again, and he obviously doesn’t deserve something like that. Luckily once again, I’m the only one taking care of Shatter. He doesn’t scream at me as I quickly take it off. I risk it and pat his shoulder. “Good luck out there. You’re going to need it. He doesn’t bite me! Man, this is crazy.

Again, the gate opens and his chains come off of him. Lion bolts out of the stall next to us, and glares inside it, probably involving Masura. 

Straight to the chase, Toga and Dabi are released from their places. Dabi almost gets a grin on his face from his teeth being shown in what seems to be a smile. Or maybe even a sneer with how stuck up he seems to be. Toga immediately poises her sharp tail above her. 

It feels like everyone holds their breath for a second as the four stand still in the arena. Toga is the first to charge for Shatter. He immediately jumps out of the way, and tries to swing his tail towards her legs to make her fall off balance. She jumps over his tail and stabs it in the process. She then licks the blood off of the blade of her tail. 

Shit! I forgot to warn about her transformation! The one thing though it could still be easy to tell which is the real shatter from his ability, and he wouldn’t attack Lion. I don’t think All For One knows they care about each other. Wait… But if she fights Shatter in his form and Lion tries to help… Oh no. 

Dabi starts using his fire towards Lion. It slightly grazes him before he can get out of the way. He lets out a growl in slight pain as smoke comes from some of his scales. Shatter goes to use his ability at Dabi, but stops abruptly as Toga transforms into him. She goes to attack him again. She might remember his ability from listening and possibly watching yesterday. They’re able to watch for an even better chance at winning. 

She swings her claws at his throat, making him go to the defensive and try to back away. 

While that is going on, Lion is too busy being focused on Dabi’s fire, and constantly jumping from it. It gets to the point Lion is facing me, and the back of Dabi is visible. He glares at Dabi, and I see his eyes turn red. Why the FUCK are these two dragons so much stranger than most!? What is up with his eyes changing color!? Dabi goes to use his fire, but… It doesn’t come out? 

… !!! A cancellation ability!? 

Now that seems to catch the attention of everyone, especially All For One. He leans a bit forward in his chair. I can’t see Dabi’s face, but I bet it’s one of surprise judging by his tensed body. He freezes for a moment, giving Lion the chance to strike first. He’s able to manage a pretty deep slash onto Dabi’s side when he tries to move away. One quick glance shows Lion’s eyes are back to his steel or whitish color. He only manages another rather deep slash to Dabi’s shoulder. He tries to use his fire again, and succeeds. With the close range I worry that Lion was burned to a crisp immediately. 

He glares again to cancel the fire again before it can do serious damage to him. Ah, so there is a timer-like thing for it. He slams his tail into Dabi, knocking him towards his back. He’s able to manage another slash onto Dabi’s exposed stomach. It’s easy to tell Dabi is slightly panicking, not used to never being hit so much before. Probably the cancellation as well. 

Presumably Toga notices Dabi having a hard time, meanwhile, she’s giving Shatter a surprisingly hard time, and a lot of injuries. She charges towards him still as Shatter and manages to get a clean deep swipe to his right eye. My heart sinks to my stomach. 

Lion hardly gives it a chance though since he notices Dabi trying to get back up. He claws again at Dabi, striking his chest. There’s now a good pool of blood being trailed onto the ground from all Dabi’s wounds. Now that Shatter has a bit of freedom, he’s able to scream. Just like yesterday, it’s much more of a screech than a scream. Again like before, Dabi and Toga flinch in pain at the sound. It gives Lion the chance to injure the Shatter that attacked him, making the transformation wear off. 

Before anything else can be done, chain envelops the two again, allowing Dabi and Toga to get away freely. Of course the coward would do this when his precious pawns are losing. “Cheating bastard.” I mumble with obvious frustration. Shatter looks towards me again. 

That’s the least of my concern now though. Lion’s eye needs to be looked at ASAP. I go back to their stalls to prepare for their return. 

Again, it doesn’t take long. Neither are wearing muzzles, but Shatter doesn’t scream, possibly in fear of his jaw being dislocated again. Masura almost seems disappointed when he and the others drag them in. It was almost too much to wait for all of them to leave before rushing towards the two dragons, especially Lion.

When reaching up for his head, I almost yank it down to my eye level to see the damage to his eye. They almost seem surprised by my concern. Thankfully, his eye was missed, just barely. My foot nervously taps onto the ground for a second while in thought. It’s still a really deep wound, but fully healing it would raise suspicion, and All For One already isn’t too happy with these two defeating so many of his favorites. Not many have been able to beat Dabi and Toga. My hand gets its familiar glow and comes into contact with the wound. I don’t heal it all the way. There’s a giant scar left instead. They gave me a look. “I’m sorry. I really badly want to heal it fully, but I don’t want to die by healing you guys too much like the last person did,” I look towards the burned scales as well. “Those can’t be fully healed either. Some reason my healing doesn’t really work on burns.” 

Their eyes almost seem to widen. 

Shatter looks towards the entrance instead a moment later and hisses. I rush for the muzzles. Obviously, they’re really resilient to them being put on. 

I get Shatter’s on just in time for All For One to enter. He goes right up to Lion. “A canceling ability. Simply magnificent. I wonder, how many can he cancel at once? Guess tomorrow we will see,” He almost seems to glare at Shatter. “Although I do not trust that one to not get in the way. Tomorrow will be just Lion, or now given the name Suppress.”

He goes to touch the now named “Suppress”, but he smacks his head against All For One’s hand, making him pull it away. “Ah, still got good fight as well. Good. Tomorrow will be interesting.”

“Uh, S-sir? If I may ask, what is your plan for him tomorrow?” Damn it, why did I have to stutter? 

He turns his masked head towards me. I can almost FEEL his grinning under the thing. “He’s going to fight Tomura as well tomorrow.” 

I’m pretty sure I stopped breathing. There’s no way he can fight Dabi, Toga, AND Tomura at the same time without being killed! 

He doesn’t say anything else as he turns and leaves. I quickly take their muzzles back off. There’s nothing that can be done. I can only hope he’s strong enough to survive. No dragon has survived Tomura though. I sigh heavily and look at Suppress. “I hope you can handle a lot at once. If I’m right, you might be against three tomorrow. Be as ruthless as you can. They won't be holding back.” 

I leave and grab food for them again. This time, they eat it with me there. I sit in the same spot as before. 

-------------------------------------

The next day comes too soon. This time I’m woken up to the sun shining right on my face. That means it’s much later than yesterday. I go to sit up, and nearly groan in stiffness. Yep, here comes the pain and stiffness of laying on the floor. The two of them are staring at me while growling, or probably talking to each other. Well that’s a little weird. 

I get up lean backwards, giving my back a good crack. It felt satisfying and did relieve the tiniest bit of discomfort. Using my healing, it doesn’t take long to feel fully normal again. I look at the giant scar still under Suppress’ eye. Pity courses through me at it. Well, at least she didn’t strike slightly higher, permanently losing his sight. Judging that Suppressor might be taken soon for a final fight today, I get up and grab the muzzles yet again. I’m so sick of even seeing these damn things. Suppressor’s gets put on properly, but I keep Shatter’s a bit loose again. He almost seems appreciative of it. “When they come to take you, save your energy for the fight. You’re going to need everything you can get.” 

They were put on just in time too since Masura comes in with a few others to take Suppress. “Already?” I question. 

“Yeah, he wants this to be the only fight today. He couldn’t wait to see what this thing is made of.” 

This “thing” is a he, you overdeveloped rotten cabbage. 

The dragon must have been able to understand me since he doesn’t fight them that strongly as they drag him out by the chains. I sigh and look towards Shatter. “I hope he’s strong. He’s going to need everything he can get.” 

I follow Masura into the stall. It’s odd being in a different one for once, and I’m horrified with how roughly they throw him around with the chains. I go up front and take off his muzzle yet again, allowing him to snap at the people. I smirk as he gets dangerously close to his teeth meeting the flesh of one of the men close to me on my left. He shrieks and stumbles far away. 

He then gets shoved forward out of the stall into the arena. Masura and the others quickly leave, probably to the stands to get a better view of the fight higher up. 

It’s dead silent in the stands. “Now, I know there are usually a few every day, but this is a chance that can’t be taken up. Today is a one fight only, and three against one. Now, that usually doesn’t happen with the lack of action that would normally cause, but this dragon has an incredibly special ability I want to see how they fare on their own,” three separate gates open, revealing what I feared. He’s given them a higher advantage by not all being together to have their abilities eliminated. Now, Toga’s not really a problem since Suppress doesn’t have an ally, but she’s still incredibly agile and dangerous. 

Tomura is probably one of the oddest dragons. His scales look incredibly dry, despite not exactly being a desert dragon. Bright red eyes glowing with hate, and talons of dead dragons latched onto his body. Don’t know why they’re there, but it’s still such a sickening thing to see. 

Dabi looks good as before with no slash wounds to be seen. Of course the fucker is willing to fully heal his dragons whenever they’re injured. 

Toga is in front, Dabi on Suppress’ left, and Tomura on his right. There was an eerie stillness for a moment, almost like they're all waiting for something. That something was Tomura. He hissed something, and they all lunged for him. He manages to dodge all three. Tomura is trying to get a grip on him for disintegration, or decay, or whatever terrifying thing it is he does. Suppress is trying to keep an eye on him and ducks down in time to avoid Dabi’s fire. Toga tries to stab him with her tail while he’s lowered against Dabi’s fire and watching Tomura.  

Turns out he was somehow also able to keep watch of Toga. He brings his tail in front of him and pushes Toga up without her realizing. Dabi’s fire hits her for a moment, making her let out a sound that makes Dabi stop. Even from here smoke is coming off of her back. 

She jumps out of the way for Dabi to continue. He uses his ability to stop Dabi from using his hot fire. Since he’s so distracted by keeping his sight on Dabi, and ends up focusing more on Toga’s location. Tomura is able to get up on him again. He manages to grab Suppress' right arm. It’s not for long as he seems to notice immediately what the dragon’s ability does. It stops decaying as he glares at Tomura instead. 

Dabi notices and tries to use his fire again. It works. So his ability must need to keep his eyes in contact with a dragon to stop their ability. Chunks of his arm fall away, leaving his arm to start bleeding rather heavily. Suppress flinches is obvious pain. He’s able to keep a level head and use Tomura’s grip on him to pull him in front in the path of Dabi’s fire. Really clever using a long-range foe’s ability to harm its allies. 

Dabi doesn’t stop in time, greatly charring Tomura’s already bad scales as well. 

All For One isn’t too happy of his favorite pawn being injured so quickly already. Well, it’s obviously his fault for the other two joining in the first place. 

A sick pleasure grows in me at his frustrated stance of tight grip on his chair. Though pity courses through me as well looking at his partially decayed arm. Should have warned him about that. 

Toga manages to ignore the pain of her burned scales and attempts to attack Suppress again. He swipes his tail as hard as he can, making Toga go flying and crash into the wall from her rather small size. Especially compared to the others. The back of her head hit the wall as well, and she slumps to the ground, unmoving. She doesn’t seem to be dead though, her stomach still slightly rising. 

Now All For One seems to be getting angrier. He doesn’t seem to be the only one. Tomura lets out a rather angry growl. Suppress is facing me again, and blinks, though he really didn’t seem to want to. That’s all the two needed to go all-out on him again. 

Tomura tries to grab him again but wasn’t able to. Suppress grabs right above his two front talons to prevent more decay. One thing going for him is he’s much stronger physically, so he’s able to manage quite easily keeping him pinned down. 

With Dabi’s fire consistently being shot at him, he does something his body shows he didn’t really want to do. He tilts his head and leans down, biting into the sides of Tomura’s neck. He slowly continues to bite down harder as Dabi doesn’t cease using his fire at him. Tomura is visually starting to panic at this point.

I think I know his plan, but it probably won’t work. Dabi doesn’t really care about the others but tolerates them for his own enjoyment of the arena. 

Looking at All For One, I freeze. He’s angrier than I’ve ever seen him. I can swear I see his hands shaking from here. Huh, he’s not usually the type to have strong visual emotion besides slight interest. 

Eventually, there was a sickening “crunch”, indicating that Suppress must have bitten into bone. Tomura’s neck slumps to the side, and he can’t seem to pick his head back up. 

All For One had enough as he stood up from his chair for the first time and I can see the chains going for Suppress again. The chains yank Suppress so harshly that he drops Tomura, and ends up being slammed into one of the walls himself. 

My body freezes completely as All For One’s head turns to look directly at me. I’m happy Suppress was able to survive, but now I’m dreading what All For One’s going to do to him. 

I rush back to Shatter since I can tell All For One is about to come in this time. He seems desperate to have the muzzle off again. His eyes almost light up as I enter. “Sorry, I can’t take it off yet. Your friend is in pretty bad shape though and will be coming shortly.” 

I almost waited with bated breath for a good few minutes. This time, instead of Masura and the others, it was All For One himself, easily dragging the dragon along. The chains pull him back by the other and latch back onto the walls. He has chains wrapped around his snout like the other did before. He’s between me and the dragons, and I can see their expressions behind him. Suppress is still flinching in pain from his decayed flesh. 

He turns his head to me. “Kill them both.”

I was in shock. I have never been demanded to kill a dragon, yet alone two before. He won fairly! Even with injuries! He and Shatter deserve to be let free! 

I notice the two dragons tense behind him. 

“I will not repeat myself. They nearly killed my best pawn. Nothing gets to pass my pawn. That will not stand, so they will be killed,” He looks at Shatter’s loosened muzzle. Fuck. “I noticed they seem to be trusting of you, so I’m making you do it. You have one hour,” he turns around and leaves. 

I look at the wounds of his fight from earlier. You know what? Fuck him. If I die, I die. 

“I think you both more than earned your freedom by now. Hell, neither of you should have been here in the first place. Do me a favor and warn the others to not come near here ever again.” Shatter tilts his head at me again as I take off his muzzle and the chains around Suppress' snout.  Here’s to hoping they can understand me. The sword hanging on the wall out of reach of the two dragons should be able to break the chains. 

My first priority is to fully heal that decayed part. The scar under his eye is sadly permanent now though. My hand glows its familiar green and it hovers over the wound. Unfortunately, it couldn’t be fully healed either, but the scar is much smaller than it would have been. I try my best with the burns, but it doesn’t do much. 

The longer my hand hovers right above his scales and heals him, the more drained and tired I feel. It gets to the point my body tries to fall forward. I push my hand onto him to try keeping my balance. “Whew. Not quite… Used to using so much energy. Haha.” His shoulder that I’m leaning against twitches. I take it as my cue to step away and end up leaning against the wall not far behind me to catch my breath. Looking towards Shatter, he’s still in pretty good shape, but the wounds from before can be healed a bit more to make sure they don’t reopen. 

I trudge over to him and do the same, ending up leaning on him like Suppress. This time even more tired though. I can’t rest yet. There’s so little time to get them free yet. I push myself off him and go to grab the sword. With my tired state it’s almost too heavy to be lifted. 

The first thing was their wings with metal being wrapped around them and pulled outwards. I grab the chain closer to him to try preventing it from pulling. The sword gets slammed down as hard as possible, making the chain break. One by one, the others were broken too. Eventually, all were broken off of both. My arm is so sore from lifting the sword so many times, and being drained in the first place. My breath is incredibly ragged. 

After dropping the sword after the final chain, I close my eyes and lean against the wall. It’s hard to stay awake. “There. Now… Get going before someone returns.” 

Both of them stop towards the entrance and look at me. “Go!” I yell at them and point forward. They stay for a moment longer, then bolt out. 

I stay leaned for a few minutes. That was beyond exhausting. Two familiar sets of footsteps enter.

“You damn traitor. I really thought you’d be better than the last. I should kill you now!” 

I look towards the entrance. All For One and Masura. Guess just get it over with then.

All For One stops him with an arm in front of him. “No. They deserve much worse than death for their betrayal.”    

Well shit.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Locked in a dark cell for a good week. Hardly any food, and quite possibly the bare minimum of water given for me to stay alive. At least it wasn’t permanent. Almost wish it was with that happens after leaving the cell. After leaving, he gave the others free rein to injure me whenever they pleased. Masura was more than happy to oblige, leaving me with some rather problematic injuries that made me so tired to heal I could barely heal dragons if I tried. Of course, now someone is always watching me when it’s my time to heal the dragons. My job is only partial now though since he wants someone more “loyal” for the job. Hopefully, those two are happy at least. That’s all that matters. 

In speaking of that, today was a day I wasn’t in charge of it. But Masura sure as hell had a lot of fun tossing me around like a ragdoll. Many show pity for me, but they know not to help. I can’t blame them no matter how much it hurts. A younger one with green curly hair looks like he wanted to deck Masura himself. Same with the dual-haired one beside him. Another rather tall one with glasses stops them and uses a chopping motion to tell them something, making them not intervene. They were a bit too far to be heard. My body is too tired today to heal the recent wounds from him as well. Pretty sure my right eye is a black eye from it being stuck partially closed and obviously the pain. 

While looking around to make sure he’s not near me or any of the others for now today, I stumble upon a rather intimidating-looking man. His back is facing me as someone with really long blue hair is talking to him. He just radiates a strong and uncomfortable type of feeling. Never seen them around before. He doesn’t even turn around. “Sorry, sir.” Some reason that seems to catch his attention. The other two, which is a rather pretty woman. Rather long and messy black hair turns around to lock steely-gray-like eyes with mine. 

That scar reminds me too much of the dragon from before. Wasn’t the scar about the same place too? Huh, he must have been too interested in that fight and lacks self-preservation or something. His eyes widen for some reason. He must have been told by others to not even come near the now outcast. 

I don’t even get to blink when he grabs one of my arms to pull me towards him again. My body instinctively flinches and gets prepared to be hit again. It never comes. My eyes open to see him staring at small cuts still bleeding slightly. His sight then immediately goes towards my swollen eye. There’s an odd fury that grows in his eyes the more he sees. Too tired to think what that must be about. I try to pull my arm free from his grip. ‘I’m sorry sir, but could you please let me go? I’m really tired and just want to go home for the day.” 

He doesn’t. If anything, his grip gets slightly tighter from me trying to pull away. Not painfully so, but it’s there. The other turns to look, and her eyes widen a substantial amount. She looks at him. “They the one? They’re not looking so hot.”

“We got what we need. Tell Zashi and the others.” 

She nods and pushes something hidden against her ear. “We found the target.” She says something else too, but my mind is too caught up in the “target” part. 

T-target!? That snaps me to attention. What did All For One tell them? Are they looking for something and he pinned the blame on me that I have it? Did he hire them to make my life more insufferable?  

A set of footsteps comes up rapidly. They must be running as fast as they could. It’s another male. He has incredibly long hair and some rather odd facial hair. He suddenly hugs me. “So glad to have finally found you! The week has been terrible! Sho! We shoulda taken then with us!” 

I don’t know you weirdos. What kind of sick prank is this? I try to push him away. “You must have the wrong person. I don’t know either of you.” He latches on tighter. “C’mon, we’re not dragons now, but you gotta recognize us! Especially Sho’s scar! 

...What? Looking closer, the blond one seems to have small scales poking at his clothing. That… This cannot be possible. I shake my head in disbelief. “There’s no way! Dragon shifters aren’t real!” 

“Oh, we definitely are, dear- what happened!? Why do you have so many injuries!?” 

“That Masura man I’m guessing. Problem child informed me of it not too long ago.” 

Problem child? 

The blond one almost seems to growl. “Don’t regret our decision for today then.”

“Decision?” I question. 

They both grow a rather sadistic smirk. I can’t tell which is more unnerving. The blond’s is bigger and shows more of his teeth, but there’s just something about the black-haired one’s that seems more unnatural.  

“Well, we’ve been lookin’ for ya for about a week now. We were starting to think he did kill you, and we weren’t happy. Besides! A dragon killer like him can’t live anyway. He’s a danger to our kind!” he turns towards the woman. “Give everyone the signal,” He turns towards this ‘“Sho” or whatever he is. “You should take them. Don’t want any more damage to our poor lovely healer, huh?” He smiles at me. 

I’m… still trying to wrap my frazzled mind and body around this. I don’t get to though from the sudden thing of many of the people around suddenly growing rapidly in size, and obtaining dragon qualities. 

It doesn’t even take a minute for them all to be full dragons, and ripped clothes everywhere. As well as the two familiar ones right in front of me. Shatter and Suppress. 

Shatter picks me up and flies up a bit, being careful with his claws. He places me on Suppress’ back. 

Can things please stop for two minutes to let me think!? Again, I don’t get to as Suppress takes off into the air. There’s nothing to really grab onto to not fall off, so I grab his hair. It’s surprisingly soft. Wasn’t expecting that. My hands make the hair wrap around my hands a few times to not have to clench it so tightly. I’d rather not fall to my death. 

He either dosn’t feel me pulling on his hair or doesn’t care. I lean closer to ignore the air whipping by as he speeds around flying. The screaming of the people is also a bit too much. They have nothing to fend themselves since dragons have never attacked this place before. Usually they get caught before they do.  

There’s the familiar screaming or yelling of Shatter in the distance. I look over to see him with multiple other dragons against All For One. He’s gotten a few chained to the ground, but the sheer amount of them that keep using their abilities against him is making it really hard for him to focus. 

A familiar exploding dragon zooms past to fight one of his prized dragons he must have let free to help. They’re not helping much. They can’t. There are too many. Toga tries to stab him with her tail, but the exploding one is relentless. He has a sick smile, almost like he’s enjoying the fight. He almost too quickly manages to pin her to the ground and slams explosion after explosion onto her face. 

Dabi is being managed by an oddly colored dragon that reminds me of the red and white-haired one from earlier. With him fighting Dabi is a green one with an oddly long tongue, and a pink and brown one who somehow can move large buildings to fall onto Dabi, making him constantly jump around to avoid being hit. 

Tomura doesn’t seem to be having much luck either. The two must have informed the others of his ability. He’s against multiple with long-ranged abilities like Shatter. 

Despite all the noise around, I’m getting even more tired with the rocking of his body with the movement of his wings. Same with his oddly warm scales being rather comforting, and hair draping around me like a blanket. Exhaustion overtakes me as the sounds of screaming people, roaring dragons, and crackling fire of houses slowly fades to silence with me drifting off. 

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Not edited to the fullest capability. We die like captains with their sinking ships. Will be doing a part two with better yandere stuff...

….. Eventually…...