#each time i listen to this my brain is split in two :

[machidielontheway]

Écouter / acheter: Fezziwig de Nigel Eaton

If you ever thought “i wonder if hurdy gurdy can make bop song ?” then please listen to this

[silens-oro]

You Know Where You Are: Part III

Not all fics have adult content, but this blog is 18+. Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x f!Musician!Reader Angst/Established Relationship Part I | Part II

The Pitt Playlist located here The Pitt Masterlist

Synopsis: The aftermath of PittFest. Word Count: 5,542 (somebody sedate me) Content Warning: Reader is in her 30's; mass shooting; death; blood; gunshot injuries; angst; grief; medical procedures; I don't know anything about anything medical, but I did Dr. Google some things so please forgive inconsistencies - if I've missed any warnings, please let me know. A/N: Thank you all for the love this story has gotten. I anticipate one more part to this before it's over, so hang tight. For now, I leave this as a lil Friday treat because you deserve it.

Internal strangulation was the first thing you felt as your mind clawed its way back to consciousness. Your body felt heavy and weightless, like you were floating to the surface from the deep, dark depths of the ocean in search of the sun. An invasion of your airway and your mouth caused you to choke and sputter as you thrashed involuntarily. 

Your arms didn’t move further than an inch or two as you squirmed and the sound in your ears rushed and rolled as if you were listening through a conch shell on the beach. Beeping -incessant beeping, was the first clear sound that came though, splitting your head in half with each throttle of sound, then the squeaks of sneakers approached you. 

“Check vitals. Someone grab Dr. Martin, please.” A woman’s muffled voice was the first you heard, then chattering around the room that didn’t sound human to your ears. It was indistinct, muffled, slurred. You sank, then floated, then sank again before floating back to the surface. So close with the light hitting your face, and still just far enough out of reach. 

Your eyes, crusted at the seams, tried to crack open, but whatever was inside of you made you panic when they didn’t. Multiple sets of hands held you down and a cool, damp cloth was wiped over your eyes to clear the debris. Your name was called out softly once, twice, then a third time. 

“I know you’re scared, but I need you to calm down. We’re gonna check you out to see if we can get this tube out of you as quickly as we can, but you need to settle so we can do it, alright?” Your eyes finally cracked open for the first time in what felt like centuries. The woman -a nurse- was standing over you. Her gloved hand was cradling the side of your head to comfort you, but there was no amount of comfort to stop your heart from feeling like it was going to beat out of your rib cage. She said your name again to get your attention back on her. 

“My name is Kate. Do you know where you are?” Your hands had a white knuckle grip on the wrist restraints as people moved in and out of the room. You shook your head, your brain was going haywire and the sudden hit of stimulation from every direction was too much to handle. “Can someone call downstairs to let Dr. Robby know she’s awake?” Kate spoke sternly to whoever was listening behind her. Mike, oh god, Mike. This caused your heart rate to skyrocket. “You’re okay, sweetheart. I need you to let the tube breathe for you, alright. Let it do its job until we can take it out.” She was doing her best to calm you, but it felt like you could run through a wall with the way adrenaline pumped through your body. “You’re at Pittsburgh Medical Trauma Center. Do you remember how you got here?”

You were on stage. Then screaming. Then Nick, blood, face down, Jake, dragged, Mac. Your eyes squeezed closed, tears leaking down your face. 

“That’s okay, don’t strain yourself.” She turned as another set of footsteps was heard behind her. “Sweetheart, this is Dr. Martin.” A man came into view. He was older than Mike and he had a neutral expression on his face as he looked you over, then over to the monitors, “He’s gonna help us get this breathing tube out, alright.” You nodded tearfully. 

“Well good afternoon to you. It’s good to finally see you up,” He spoke gently, then turned to a nurse you just noticed was on the other side of your bed. “How is she looking?”

“Good for extubation.” She confirmed. He nodded, snapping blue gloves on his hands as the two nurses surrounded you. 

“Alright, let’s get these straps off.” He spoke your name as he started disconnecting straps that held the tube in place while the nurses undid your wrist restraints. Your hands flexed against the bed, gripping the scratchy top blanket in a deathgrip. “I need you to take a deep breath and when you exhale, I’m going to remove the tube, alright?” You nodded, pleading with your eyes to just remove it. “Good, go ahead and take a nice deep breath in,” It hurt, but you did as he asked. You felt something in your throat deflate. “Perfect, now exhale slowly for me.” The tube made a squelching sound as it came out, the feeling of it sliding out caused you to cough and sputter, drool and mucus following the tube as it finally ended. A nurse pushed the button on the bed to get you to sit up as much as you could so she could hold a small pink bucket under your mouth as you continued to cough and dry heave into your lap. 

“I know it’s unpleasant, but getting it removed is a good thing.” Someone was rubbing small circles into your back and you were sure that a glare sat heavy on your face, but Dr. Martin didn’t make note of it outwardly. “I’m sure you have some questions, but I’d like to go over why you’re here so you can understand the situation. Nurse Kate, if you could please stick around.” She nodded to the other nurse, who took her leave and shut the door behind her. 

Dr. Marin sat on the edge of the bed and Nurse Kate handed him a tablet. He swiped a few times and turned the screen so you could see it. It was an MRI scan of your torso with certain areas circled. 

“You were shot.” He said simply. “It went in at an angle through your back here,” He pointed at the scan where the entry wound was, then pointed at the upper part of your abdomen, “and exited right here. It lacerated your liver and there was some pretty extensive bleeding. Had you gotten here any later than you did, we would not be having this conversation.” Your hands began to shake, their grip on the blanket not letting up. “The good news is that we were able to repair the damage and that your liver was the only organ hit. There will be a pretty good chunk of recovery time for you, and some scarring, but in the long run there shouldn’t be any lasting physical damage and physical therapy will definitely help aid your recovery. That being said, our social worker Kiara is going to stop by at some point to chat with you. She has a wealth of knowledge and resources to help you navigate your next steps regarding what you experienced.” He brought his hand to rest on top of your right shaking fist, giving it a comforting squeeze. “We are going to keep you here for monitoring for the next week or so until you’re up on your own two feet, so get comfortable. You’re in great hands. I’m here if you have any questions, alright? For now just rest as much as you can.” He glanced over to Kate, then he stood, gave you a nod with a small smile, and exited the room. 

You looked around the dim room for the first time since you woke up. Flowers, cards, stuffed animals, and ‘Get Well Soon!’ balloons took over every surface and carried over onto the floor. How long were you out?

“You have a lot of people who’ve been real worried about you.” Kate said softly. “Dr. Robby should be up in a few. He was up here earlier to check in on you, but you were still out. He’s been worried sick. Night shift tells me Dr. Abbot’s been checking in as well.” You were afraid to speak, worried that opening your mouth would let the proverbial floodgates open.”You know them?” You nodded.  

“Are you feeling any pain?” Kate offered with a smile. How could you tell her that that’s all you felt, mentally, physically, emotionally? All you could do was shake your head, your chest tightening with sobs ready to be unleashed. Tears welled in your eyes and she took that as her cue to give you some space. “I’m gonna grab you some ice cubes to soothe your throat, alright? I’ll be back in a few.” She softly closed the door and that’s when you let out a deep gasp of air, it was deep enough to choke you and there was no reeling it back in. 

Robby happened to be outside in triage when a white pickup pulled into the ambulance bay, honking frantically to get their attention. 

“We’ve got four back here,” Dr. Shen called out for the triage team as he climbed in the bed of the truck. “Through and through the head. No pulse, black and white,” He verbally noted as he took stock of who could actually be treated. “Red zone, GSW to the abdomen, low pulse, heavy blood loss, unresponsive.” Shen and Ellis slapped bracelets on each victim as they were called out.

“Red zone, GSW left chest,” Ellis called out, slapping another bracelet on the third person in the back of the truck. “Weak carotid, unresponsive.”

“They were both talking when we got in the truck,” Jake tried to keep himself together as he spoke to Ellis. Robby’s ears perked up the second he heard the voice and bolted to the truck. “They were bleeding so much and I couldn’t stop it!” Jake was becoming frantic.

“Jake!” Robby’s voice boomed in the ambulance bay as he picked up into a sprint over to the truck. 

“Robby! They were shot!” He sobbed your name, “-and Leah! It’s really bad!” Robby climbed over the side of the truck and stopped in his tracks when he saw you, slumped over and covered in blood. The color, the life, was drained from your face and the bloody shirt held to your abdomen was all he needed to see to get him moving. His fingers went under your jaw, checking for the pulse that was hanging on by a thread. It took a few seconds for him to find it, but it was there -faint- but there. 

“We need gurneys over here!” His voice cracked as everyone moved into action. His manic eyes went from you to Jake, then down to Leah who was also unresponsive. He held a hand to Leah’s chest and his heart sank when he didn’t feel anything. “Get them loaded and inside, now!” He helped pull you from the truck, quickly assessing the damage. It was bad. You lost a lot of blood and god only knew the damage the round had done internally. Shen picked up where Robby left off so he could assess Jake and Leah.

“I’ve been putting pressure on the wounds as best as I could, but it’s bad, Robby!” Jake tried to be useful with any info he could.

“You did a good job, kid,” Robby reassured Jake, looking him over. “Are you shot?”

“I don’t know. Maybe-maybe my leg? Most of this is their blood,” A pink bracelet was slapped on his wrist and he was pulled up. 

“You know them, boss?” Ellis asked. Robby felt like he was going to puke.

“Yeah. Come on, let’s go.” Robby’s voice boomed to get everyone back into high gear. They didn’t have time to lose.

Jack turned to look at the exit to triage to see one gurney come in with a young teen, then Robby pushed another behind it. When Jack saw you, he immediately turned over the patient he was finishing up with to Langdon before rushing over to Robby.

Robby’s eyes shifted between Leah -Jake sobbing for him to do something-, and back down to you before Jack made the decision for Robby by taking your gurney to his trauma area to begin intubation to get you stable without a second thought. Ellis repeated your status to Jack to give him an idea of what he was walking into.

Robby trusted Jack, knew you were in the best hands in this ED where his own hands had failed so many times today already, so he let Jack do what he did best while he began working on Leah and trying to settle Jake. 

“Intubation, chest tube, IO, and a unit of blood,” Jack called to his team who were moving faster than he could give out orders. “We’ve got an entrance and an exit, through and through. That’s the  good news,” Jack spoke out loud, loud enough for Robby to hear from across the room. He didn’t tell Robby the wound was in No Man’s Land because he didn’t need to hear it. Not now. 

Robby couldn’t help but take quick glances across the room once the breathing tube had been inserted. Your face was obscured, but he could see that your shirt had been cut open, your tattooed body exposed to a room full of strangers, but it didn’t matter. None of it would matter if you didn’t make it out of this department alive. His knees almost buckled at the thought of your gurney being wheeled into the peds room to join the three others who they already lost. 

Robby shook his head to banish the thought and give Leah everything he had. 

Jack would glance up and over, cool as a cucumber, to catch Robby’s eyes, then he’dshift them back down to where he was doing everything he could, pulling every trick he had from up his sleeve to get you stable. Jack knew the odds weren’t exactly in your favor, but one glance at the girl on Robby’s gurney and he knew she wasn’t making it at all. You had a fighting chance, and it would be all uphill for Jack, but there was a chance. 

The tension inside of Robby’s body wound tighter and tighter with every breath he took. Looking down at Leah, he knew in his heart of hearts that she wasn’t going to make it out of this -not with the wound that she had, but that didn’t stop him from exhausting every effort for Jake’s sake because he had to do something -anything. He couldn’t throw in the towel, not when she was so young with so much more life to live, and not when Jake was happy. 

Robby couldn’t call it. He couldn’t face the reality of what was happening, so he kept frantically pushing and pushing until there was nothing left to give.  It was the flash of movement from your gurney being wheeled behind the HUB and over to the elevator for the pre-OP that caught Robby’s attention. Jack seemed to teleport next to him in that moment and he leaned in close so only Robby could hear him.

“She’s stable. There’s damage to her liver and some soft tissue, massive blood loss, but she’s stable, brother.” Robby nodded, continuing to push the cell saver. “How many units so far?” Jack asked, arms crossed over his chest. His brows were furrowed as he watched Robby work and call shots when he knew this wasn’t turning around. 

“Four, plus the cell saver.” Jack nodded. 

“Last one?” It was more of a suggestion than a question from Jack. If he had to make the call, a single unit probably wouldn’t have gone to her in her condition. It sounded harsh, but it couldn’t be wasted on someone who had zero chance of survival when there were dozens of other patients who could have used it -especially since their supply was dwindling rapidly and patients were still pouring in. 

“I don’t know.” Robby was in denial. Jack looked down at Leah and saw what the reality was. “Dana, why don’t we try a little TXA? 1,000 milligrams of TXA might help her clot.” Dana tried to hold it together after seeing you wheeled in with Jake attached to Leah’s side. She looked at Jack with devastation in her eyes because she was of the same belief as him regarding Leah’s status even though she wouldn’t say it out loud. Nonetheless, she did what Robby asked. 

“Bullet tore through her heart,” Jack said softly, but it was something Robby needed to hear. “Anyone with a wound like this is pronounced dead in the field. You can’t keep up with the blood loss.” He tried to reason. “If she was our only patient we’d do a thoracotomy, maybe ECMO, but even then I doubt we’d get her back.” Robby moved back to chest compressions. He knew Jack was right, but he couldn’t let go. “We’re gonna lose ten other patients if you put all your efforts into saving this girl.” He said it point blank. Pussyfooting around the issue wasn’t getting through to Robby. This was the reality. Leah was gone and nothing Robby did was going to save her.

Nurse Kate had been gone ten minutes when you heard a quiet knock on the door. It cracked open and Mike’s head popped in to scope out the situation. When his eyes locked on yours he pushed himself through and shut the door.

You could feel it, the surging tsunami of emotions coming to the surface and the telltale wobble of your bottom lip was all it took for Mike to get to your side as you sobbed viscerally. He sat on the side of the bed and hugged you to him as best as he could while you cried against his throat. 

“I’m so sorry, Mike,” It devastated him. Your first sentence spoken to him since the morning of the shooting, voice raspy and visceral, and you were apologizing to him. He tried to keep it together, he really did, but the last three days were wave after wave of grief, agony, pain and suffering, and he had nothing left to hold onto. 

His cheek nestled itself onto the top of your head as he held you to him. “I’m sorry. God,” Your breathing was ragged against him. “Please tell me Jake’s alright and Leah.” Robby didn’t know if he could handle this conversation. “I couldn’t help them, Mike. Please tell me they’re alright,” You begged him. If something happened to either of them you would never forgive yourself. Robby put the pieces together that you either forgot Leah was in the truck with you or you just weren’t even coherent at that point and his heart continued to shatter into tinier and tinier pieces until it was dust. 

“Jake’s fine,” Mike spoke into your hair, trying to keep his voice even, but you could hear the wobble. “He’s got a minor wound on his leg. He’ll be on crutches for a while, but he’s okay.” He felt a breath of relief leave you. He couldn’t tell you about how Jake had let him feel every bit the failure as a doctor, as a father figure, as a friend. “Leah…” Your grip on his zip-up got so tight that your knuckles cracked. He didn’t say it out loud, but you felt him shake his head. “And Nick…” Tears fell from Robby’s exhausted eyes at your devastated wails. His eyes were clenched shut, his deepening crow’s feet exacerbated by the tension used to keep them shut. 

The fact that he could physically hold you in his arms was the first win he had in days. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you next to Leah in the Peds room, you and the five other poor souls who didn’t make it out of the ED. 

“I’m sorry,” His voice cracked as he repeated it over and over, his arms never leaving you. “I tried.”

It was around seven that night when you finally got Robby to go home and sleep. Your tears had mostly subsided, but there was an emptiness -a hollow pit- forming where the raw emotions left behind a trail of devastation. It had only been three days since the shooting, but Robby seemed to have aged ten years. His usually neat and trimmed beard was unruly. He had dark circles that weighed heavy under his eyes. His clothes were wrinkled, slept in, and he looked beyond exhausted. He was running on the leftover vapors of fumes and he couldn’t work under those conditions, much less function. He shouldn’t be working at all, but he threw himself into the only thing he had an illusion of control over. You reassured him that you’d be fine and that you weren’t going anywhere until he finally relented, promising to return in a few hours. 

The truth was that you needed him out. 

The more you looked at Mike, the more you saw Leah, and the more you saw Leah, the more you thought about the fact that it was supposed to be him on that stage with Jake and it made you furious. Furious that you fought with him because he decided not to go. Furious because you iced him out when he flippantly dropped it on you the morning of PittFest, which in retrospect wasn’t even a big issue, but his decision saved his life. It was you who fought to put him in danger. Hindsight was always 20/20 and realistically you couldn’t have known that this was going to happen, but you should’ve. It was always a possibility, especially with the current way of the world. 

It was inevitable, but it shouldn’t be. 

You saw Mike in Leah’s place in that truck, the few glimpses your brain kept locked away, every time you closed your eyes. You didn’t know if they were actual memories of her or if your brain had put the images together to further torment yourself. The hallucinations of Mike motionless, bleeding out, while you couldn’t even help yourself was agonizing. And it played over and over in various scenarios to the point of near madness. His death layered over Leah’s death played over and over in a vicious loop, over and over until you wanted to rip the hair from your scalp. 

God, Leah. She was so excited to meet you and the rest of the guys before your set. She was sweet and bubbly, kind and an overall ray of sunshine. Jake and Leah were attached at the hip the entire afternoon and you remembered feeling so happy for them. 

Now she was gone, a young life cut disastrously short in the blink of an eye for no reason. Her death ate away at you, gnawing at the frayed edges of your soul like a parasite and you couldn’t get her smiling face out of your mind no matter how hard you rubbed at your eyes. Jake would never recover from this, not fully. How could he? If he felt even a fraction of the guilt and anger you did, it would be a long time before he crawled out of that hole that kept going deeper and deeper. 

You retreated further and further into yourself that night until you were spiraling into a deep, dark prison of your own making. It was a place you could shut yourself off, let your boat drift from the dock to flow along the gentle, black currents -adrift at sea with nothing tying you to the present. 

The next time a nurse came in to check on you, you had her make a note that you didn’t want any visitors going forward unless they were ran by you first, and that included Mike. 

“Robby,” Jack announced himself as he entered the post-op room, “Any changes?” His voice was just above a whisper when he shut the door behind him so he didn’t disturb the quiet peace that had settled over the space. It was nearing three in the morning and Jack had returned to the hospital around two just as he told Robby he would after going home and getting a couple hours rest. 

Robby startled from his thoughts, his head swiveling to meet his counterpart before shaking it softly. His hands were clasped around yours, an anchor to hold onto you in every way he could.

“No, nothing yet.” They both watched over you, looking for any sign of life other than the steady beeping. The color started to return to your skin, noticeable even in the dim room. It was a step in the right direction, at least. Your vitals were steady every time Robby checked them and you hadn’t moved an inch since you were wheeled into the room mere hours ago after a successful surgery. 

Robby needed you to wake up -they both did. After Robby’s admission on the roof earlier that night, Jack didn’t know what Robby would’ve actually done had things gone south. 

“Why don’t you go home, get something to eat. Rest for a few hours.” Robby opened his mouth to argue, but Jack just held a hand up. “I’ll come up here to check on her through the morning, alright? And I’ll have the nurses alert me immediately if anything changes. You’ll be the first to know. Please. You’re no good to her if you’re dead on your feet.” Robby nodded, but didn’t move. 

“I…I never got to thank you, Jack. I don’t know how I can.” 

“No thanks needed, brother. I did what I was meant to do.” Jack patted Robby’s shoulder. “I’m here for you. Anything you need, no questions asked.”  

When the news broke the next day that you were awake, people -friends, relatives, acquaintances, people you worked with, toured with- tried to visit and very few of them were granted access. It was pandemonium at the nurses’ station as they tried to corral everyone that came through. 

The more flowers and balloons that were sent made you want to throw up every time a nurse brought the gifts in with a sad smile. 

So many people lost someone that day -wives, husbands, fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, friends. Dozens of people died brutally at the festival grounds, not including the ones who died at PTMC, but it was your band who was the headline of every news station across the country as you found out when you turned the tv on in your room for some background noise. Hearing so many people speak about you and Nick while the other victims were pushed to the background as an afterthought -as a mere number to the death count- was derailing you mentally, and with each photo of Nick that you saw, each clip they played of past shows, you stepped one foot closer to the looming inevitable psychotic break. 

It was when they played recorded footage from someone in the crowd’s perspective of the stage seconds before gunshots could be heard and Nick was hit that you lost it. The sound of the echoing shots right as the clip cut off caused an immediate involuntary reaction in you. You turned the tv off and threw the remote across the room before you knew what you were doing, gasping for breath. The back and batteries scattered and you didn’t care because that TV was never getting turned back on so long as you were stuck in this room. 

Your day nurse, Rita, ran in at the noise and saw you in bed with your hands pressed tightly over your face. 

“Are you alright?” 

“I’m sorry! I don’t know-,” Your voice was muffled through your hands. She looked down and saw the remote and its pieces scattered across the floor. Without complaint, Rita picked up each piece, put them back into their places, and placed the remote back on your bed for easy access.

“It’s trauma, hun. Don’t apologize.” She stood at your bedside and checked you over. “Still not sleeping?” You shook your head. “I can get you something to take the edge off a little. Help you relax to get a few hours of shut-eye. You need it.”

“I’m scared to sleep.” You whispered. “I close my eyes and all I can see is my friend who I’ve known since we were 12, a girl I met hours before who was there when she shouldn’t have been, the people in the crowd. I see things that are going to haunt me for the rest of my life, but if I don’t sleep…I can put those thoughts away.” You brushed the tears from your cheeks. “I’m tired of crying, but that's all I can do.”

 “Dr. Robby’s back,” it was the third day in a row he tried to get in and you didn’t budge, and still you just shook your head, eyes not leaving the window. The first morning Robby tried to see you after you sent him home to rest had been a catastrophe when he returned and was denied access to your room. He couldn’t understand what you were doing or why. Exhausted and broken down mentally, he tried to bully the nurses into letting him in. It wasn’t his finest moment, and he wasn’t proud of his behavior (which he apologized for). The nurse had reassured him that she understood but her hands were tied. He wasn’t your doctor so he could not have access unless it was granted and you essentially made the room the hospital’s version of Fort Knox. He tried day after day, but each refusal chipped away at every facet of his being. There was only so much a single person could take. 

Robby refused to say anything to anyone about the way this was crippling him and knowing you would rather suffer alone…it was an unexpected blow that continued to throttle away at his foundation that was already standing on its last leg. Jack saw it. Dana saw it. Everyone in the ED saw it and he swam in the opposite direction when every single one of them threw a life preserver out to him. 

He needed support. He needed you. But how can you lean on someone when you’re both angry, grief stricken, filled with crippling guilt and are horrifically traumatized? How do you work through that when neither of you are in a  headspace that allows for help to be given or taken? How does he fight through it? 

He couldn’t. 

He can’t. 

By the fourth rejection, Robby did something he hadn’t ever done before -he gave up. He went to work and he went home where he suffered in silence because everything around him had imploded in such a catastrophic way that it left no survivors in its wake. He failed every patient that flatlined. He failed Leah. He failed Jake. He failed you. 

Everything fell apart. 

You spent nearly two weeks in the hospital recovering, stewing, and self-sabotaging through a complete cut off from the outside world. Your phone sat on the rolling bedside table, battery dead and crusted with old blood that the nurses couldn’t get out of the cracks of the splintered screen. They offered to charge it for you, but you wanted nothing to do with anything that was waiting for you on the device. 

Your discharge from the hospital couldn’t come soon enough. Sitting in that room, staring at the wall for 23 out of 24 hours a day was getting to you in ways you’d never say out loud. 

The clothes you were wearing the day of the shooting had either been completely soaked in blood or were cut off of you so a nurse brought you a pair of scrubs to go home in and a pair of shoes that had been sitting in their donation box that were a size too big. 

So that’s how you left Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center, in a pair of disposable scrubs, a stranger’s shoes, and a plastic bag in hand that held your phone, the key ring that was originally hooked to the belt loop of your bloody jeans, the in-ear monitor that was still strapped to you when you were tossed into the truck, and a bottle of prescription pain meds and sleep aids. 

The townhouse you owned was only two and a half blocks from PTMC so you signed every waiver you needed to to be let out without having someone to take you home. Who would you call to get you anyway? Whoever you had lined up in your brain would want to talk, ask questions. They’d ask how you were feeling. They’d bring up Robby and the tops of your hands itched at the thought of having to face any of it. The skin was already raised and irritated, bleeding in some areas where you couldn��t stop scratching. It was simpler to get yourself back to the home you barely inhabited these days rather than reach out for help. It made sense in your mind anyway. 

Every step on the sidewalk yanked uncomfortably at the incision site on your abdomen and back. The stitches were removed that morning, but the wounds were still tender. The lines that divided the sidewalk held your attention the entire way to the brownstone so you wouldn’t make eye contact with anyone. You looked crazy, perhaps a psych patient escaped from the ward to the average onlooker, which is why you picked up your pace just a bit more regardless of the pull you felt from your side. 

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[hyunebunx]

💝 with jisung 🤭

˖˙ ᰋ ── 💝- 'a sudden kiss to catch the partner off guard'

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: manaa <33 i hope you enjoy this as much as i loved writing it <3 thank you sm for requesting!

It wasn’t a rare occurrence to drop by and find your boyfriend creating, brainstorming for another song while strumming his guitar or tapping a pen on the table to the rhythm created in his head. Inspiration struck at the oddest of times, not giving him a break no matter how spent or exhausted he was. And you had to understand – when the creative juices were flowing and he was in the zone, nothing and absolutely nobody mattered until he finished the song.

You find yourself in his room, sitting across from each other on the floor as you’re listening to your boyfriend go on and on about this new idea of his, strumming random chords on his guitar as he struggled to find a note he was satisfied with.

His fluffy brown hair bounces everywhere as he talks, glasses dropping a little too low on the bridge of his nose as he hasn’t raised his head from the instrument since you came in, half an hour ago.

“I’ve had this melody stuck in my head since yesterday but I can’t seem to get it out.” He hums, in hopes you might recognize it or help him somehow. He’s out of luck because truth be told, you stopped listening ten minutes ago.

You loved his creativity and passion but sometimes, like right now, you just needed his love and affection and Jisung has been too busy to notice.

“How about a snack?” You ask, standing up to which your joints thank you joyfully.

Jisung mumbles a quick ‘yes’, granting you his attention for a split second before he’s back to his guitar, hunched over in concentration.

The house is empty except for you two, with Jisung’s roommate, Minho, away on a family trip. You’d never thought you’d miss his loud and over the top laughter but now, when your boyfriend was barely paying you any attention, its absence pains you. You never realized how lively Minho kept things around here – you need to show your appreciation when he returns.

You linger longer than necessary in the kitchen, preparing snacks and drinks for the both of you before shuffling back to Jisung’s room, thankful the door was left ajar with how full your hands have gotten.

The moment you step inside, Jisung’s head snaps up with the most endearing smile stretched across his face, glasses a little bit crooked. “Baby! I got it! Hear me out, please!”

His happiness lights up the room in such a way that almost blinds you, his smile contagious and making it hard to resist the urge to smother him with your love. Jisung has never given you a warning, for if you got one, you might’ve prepared yourself better before falling head over heels in love with him. Though, you can never prepare for these things. Love sneaks up on you the moment it finds an opening, when your guard is down and the last thing you expect is being hit by cupid’s arrow, right in the heart.

Looking back, you don’t think you ever stood a chance. You were doomed from the start, when Han Jisung walked in the room you were in, a few years ago, laughing loudly with the previously mentioned roommate. Your heart has been his ever since, the sound reeling it in and never releasing it.

He’s babbling on, excited, as you set the plates down on his dresses, making your way towards him with a newfound purpose. When you lean down to get his attention, he tilts his head up with a dazzling smile, still talking and oh so unsuspecting of your next move.

Without warning, you peck his lips, causing the words to die on his tongue as he freezes, reflexively kissing back the second time your lips meet even if his brain hasn’t caught up yet.

“Sorry,” you whisper against his lips, his mouth agape in surprise as you stare right into his hazy eyes, “you looked too adorable, I couldn’t help myself.”

The loud sound of the guitar tumbling out of his grasp startles you, and you look down in concern while Jisung doesn’t even seem to notice, too enthralled to care. Your kisses always had that effect on him, and he’s sure they’ll continue to do so no matter how many years pass. You had him wrapped around your little finger after all, the victim of the spell your love cast on him the moment he set eyes on you.

“Ji?” You shake his shoulder lightly before crouching down to return his guitar. “The song, baby?”

“What song?” Is the first thing he manages to let out, clearing his throat as he finally comes to.

You giggle, and that’s all it takes Jisung to set the guitar aside and pull you to him by your waist, cushioning your fall as you collapse onto him before his lips are on yours again, kissing you passionately.

For a moment there, he forgot his own name. How was he supposed to remember whatever song he came up with when you used your evil powers to steal all of his attention? Though, he supposes you can’t steal something that’s always been rightfully yours…

[gothgoblinbabe]

Babe, I'm Gonna Leave You

(chapter 1/2)

(Logan Howlett x fem reader)

A/N: Yeah, the brain rot has reached a maximum and I've completely disregarded the consequences of a digital footprint! there's a couple descriptions of style of clothing/jewelry but you can imagine that as you please, also absolutely based off of "Babe Im Gonna Leave You" by Led Zeppelin bc idk somewhere in my delusions I think Logans a Zeppelin kinda guy and its what I've been listening to. For the sake of the plot, stick with me, you've got an imaginary ex bf and his random name I picked is gonna be Danny and he suuuucks real hard okay? okay and I need you to pretend dear lovely reader that you like led zeppelin if you don't 💔[holding your face ever so gently and smooching ur forehead] and I've seen only xmen origins, x-men, X2, and Deadpool x wolverine so pls pls forgive me if some stuff doesn't canonically fit. This is kind of cringe but I wrote too much of it to get rid of it just bare with me I beg of u and it was so long I had to split it into two parts

Summary: Meeting the infamous Wolverine got you roped into a liiiitle more than what you bargained for

Warnings: swearing, you have telekinesis and telepathy (cause that's cool, c'mon), mild angst, suggestive stuff kinda, mentions of cheating (Logan does not cheat on u I pinkie promise), Logan calls you kid but you're not actually a child lol, you're a good bit younger than him but also so is anyone else who isn't borderline immortal

Word Count: 4K

Pt 2!

[credit for text post dividers here and here]

There had been muttering here and there between the students at the academy that Wolverine was coming back after a few years on his own, confirmed when Marie recognized the motorcycle now parked in the driveway of the mansion.

"Logan!"

He was immediately wrapped into a hug by Marie at the door, dropping his bags to the floor.

"Hey, kid, miss me?"

"Maybe," she smiled sweetly, tucking the white strands of hair behind her ears.

"Long time no see, huh?" Ororo's voice interrupted from behind her, earning a hug from Logan.

"Any one else around?" he questioned, hoisting his bag up over his shoulder again.

"Scott and Jean are around here somewhere, Charles as well. Oh, and there's a couple new faces you haven't met," she responded, smiling at the way Marie's eyes lit up at the chance to mention what she had been meaning to tell Logan.

Marie gasped and said your name, grabbing Logan's arm in excitement, "you have got to meet her. She joined us a couple of months ago, I think you'll really like her. She's kind of been like...our you, when you've been gone."

He quirked an eyebrow at that, looking between the both of them for an explanation as to what that was supposed to mean.

"You'll see," Ororo chuckled lightly, "oh, you will see."

"She's here now, I think, you should go introduce yourself to her!"

Logan had swiftly caught onto Marie's adorable attempt to play cupid and gave her a nod, "maybe when I settle in, okay, kid?"

She nodded in agreement and both her and Ororo watched him walk off further down the corridor.

"How do you think it will go when they meet?" the later of the two asked earnestly once he was out of sight.

"Well," Marie paused for a moment, thinking, "they'll be inseparable or absolutely hate each other."

Ororo nodded in agreement almost immediately, holding in a small laugh.

Much later in the evening, Logan had been beckoned into the study along with Ororo, Marie, Bobby, you, Jean and Scott by Charles.

He had been the last to enter, eyes immediately settling on your unfamiliar frame stood next to Marie with your back against the wall. You had plenty of rings adorning your fingers and necklaces dangling in front of your chest in the same kind of fashion he'd seen in those magazines with the Harley biker girls. You looked a little like one of them too, in well fitting jeans adorned with a belt, a band shirt and some chunky boots, except you were very much real and not on glossy paper.

"Oh! Logan!" Marie exclaimed upon noticing his arrival, beckoning him over with her hand. That turned your attention to him and he felt like the wind may have been knocked out of him when your eyes met his. You were far prettier than any of the girls he'd seen in any magazine.

"This is her," Marie whispered to Logan when he approached and nudged his arm, referring to when she had told him about you earlier.

"This is Logan," Marie said to you, gesturing towards him and leaning a little closer to you to whisper something he wouldn't catch, "and he's single, by the way."

A grin was plastered on her face when she pulled away and you rolled your eyes, "Marie - "

"I know, I know, too soon, but I just thought that was very good information for you to know," she raised her hands and stepped away a little, still intent on watching how the two of you interact for the first time.

Logan extended a hand for you to shake and you did the same. Your hands were small in his and your skin soft to the touch. It was almost hard for him to drop your grip when he did, nervous that he'd hold it even a second too long.

Nervous. Women had rarely ever made him nervous in the hundred - something years he'd been alive, and yet he could feel his heart pounding in his ears when you ran your hands through your hair to push it out of your face.

"Nice to meet you," he finally spoke, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

This may have been a good opportunity to try out your powers a little, concentrate hard enough on the handsome stranger's face to know what exactly was playing out behind his staring gaze, but you resisted the urge to do what you considered a tad bit violating.

"Same here," you responded at last, averting your gaze for just a moment to avoid inadvertently doing exactly what you had just decided you wouldn't.

Marie and Ororo had studied the small interaction between the two of you - of course - waiting for something more to happen, only to be disappointed when the both of you nodded courtly and turned away from each other.

"Well, that's not good. He'd be on her like a dog already - " Ororo started under her breath.

"No, no, I just think..." Marie interrupted, narrowing her eyes between the two of you, "I think they just need to get to know each other."

"Honey..."

"I'm telling you, I just feel like they'd be good together, they just need a chance to get to know each other!"

"Do you really think she's ready to get with another guy?" Ororo nodded her head in your direction, lowering her voice, "after all that stuff Danny pulled?"

Marie grimaced at the mention of one of the professors names, shaking her head in mild disgust, "have you seen him lately? always coming up to her in the halls and stuff, it's sad - for him, I mean."

Before either of them could further debate the topic, Charles gained everyone's attention to discuss a series of tasks he'd assigned to you all. As he spoke, you only tuned in once you heard your name.

"You are the one I'd like to send out to complete that with Daniel."

"Could, uh, can I do it with someone else? or have him do it alone, or something?"

Logan caught the confused look Jean shot your way, tilting her head before she spoke, "You don't want to go with Danny? What happened, I thought the two of you -"

You cut her off with a sharp shake of your head, scowling, "uh-uh. Hell no. He...uh, I'll tell you about it later."

You had realized the sudden vulnerability you'd found yourself experiencing in a room full of eyes on you and cleared your throat, attempting to change the subject.

"I can hang back and keep an eye on the kids, I don't mind."

"They do love you," Ororo chimed in, "and we need someone to stay back to watch them anyway."

"They only like her so much because she allows them to break the rules," Scott remarked, earning a nudge in the arm from Jean.

You sighed, rolling your eyes, "Scott, the thing with the kids in your room was one time and it was an accident - "

"Was it? Because one of them wrote 'asshole' on my bathroom mirror with sharpie."

"They're kids, they do that kind of stuff!"

"was that really one of the kids?"

You tucked your lower lip under your teeth in an attempt to smother a laugh. Logan almost immediately did the same when you darted your eyes around the room in a guilty attempt to avoid eye contact.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me - " Scott started but Charles interrupted, holding up a hand.

"Alright, the both of you - enough. You," he continued, gesturing towards you, "may stay back with the children. Please do not allow them into anyone's personal quarters and I would advise you to hide the permanent markers for the time being, away from the children and perhaps yourself."

You nodded and hung your head low to hide the reappearing smile across your face. Logan stared inadvertently from then on, watching you twist your rings around your fingers and focusing on you intently when you spoke every now and then. When you were all dismissed by Charles and filed out of the room, you and Marie walked ahead of most of the group, almost out of ear shot.

Logan heard Jean's hushed voice behind him as she leaned into Scott, "so...what do you think happened? With Danny?"

"Who the hell is this Danny guy?" he finally asked, turning over his shoulder to interrogate the two of them.

"Well," Jean whispered your name, looking ahead to be sure you hadn't caught their conversation, "it's her boyfriend. Or was, I guess. They had a thing for awhile but they stopped hanging around each other all the sudden and she can't even stand to hear his name - she hasn't told me what it's about yet."

Logan simply hummed in acknowledgment, turning back ahead and finding his gaze caught on the sway of your hips as you walked.

"Oh no," he heard Ororo huff beside him, almost immediately following her gaze to see a guy he didn't recognize slip behind you and put an arm around your waist. Too far out of ear shot to hear the context, he watched you squirm out of the young mans grip and shake your head as you kept walking.

"Is it bad I want to get closer to hear what they're saying?" Ororo muttered, looking to the other three in her proximity.

"It's not our business," Jean reminded her.

"So, that's him?" Logan asked, gesturing to the guy still on your heels like a puppy.

"uh - huh," Ororo answered, frowning as she watched Danny make another pathetic attempt to put his arm around you.

When the two of you stopped at the far end of the hall and you told Marie it was okay to leave you, Logan, Ororo, Scott and Jean all turned the corner to the closest hallway.

"Oh, I know It's bad but I have got to know what lame excuse he's got this time," Ororo shook her head, stopping just around the corner to eavesdrop.

"Ororo - " Jean sighed, placing a gentle hand on her friend's arm, "come on."

"They're in the hallway! it's not like I'm standing outside a door," she reasoned, hushing them after so that the only voices hard were yours and Danny's.

"How many times do I have to tell you that I'm sorry - "

"Danny, many times do I have to tell you I don't care? Why won't you just leave me be?"

You sounded exasperated, your voice slightly muffled when you rubbed your face with your hands.

"What do you think he did?" Scott chimed in in a hushed town, now fully invested in the dialogue.

Logan was still stood there, though he wasn't too sure why. He could have and should have kept walking - let the three of them do their weird detective work - but instead found himself leaned against the wall with the rest of them.

"I love you, you know that, sweetheart, I - "

"ugh, don't call me that. You gross me the hell out, you know that?"

Both Jean and Ororo made almost the same shocked expression.

"oh, it has to be bad," Jean hissed, frowning at the venom in your tone.

"Tell me you're not still in love with me, you know you can't, we - " Danny's voice began again and yours cut him short with a sense of finality in your tone.

"Danny. I stopped being in love with you the day I walked in on you fucking another other girl."

Jean's hands flew to her mouth to muffle a shocked gasp. Scott stood with his arms crossed, his face in a grimace.

"ooh, that is bad," Ororo whispered just as a door slammed.

Logan furrowed his eyebrows, following everyone else as they continued their path down the hall again. This Danny kid had to be a real idiot.

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Weeks had passed and you shared small talk with Logan every now and then, sometimes making snarky comments here and there - though more often than not together and at Scott's expense. Funnily enough, the ability to piss Scott off so much made Logan like you even more. Maybe Marie was right, you kind of are like him.

You walked alongside him down the corridor one afternoon, intending to fulfill Ororo's request for the both of you to check in on some of the newer students.

"So, do you always do your hair like that?" you raised your eyebrows up at him, eyeing the peaks in his hair.

"Yeah. What, you don't like it?" He grinned, expecting you to make some smart remark about it.

"No, not that," you giggled, "it's like lil' cat ears, it's cute."

He looked down at you quizzically, stopping in his tracks.

"cat ears?"

"mm-hm. You're like a big kitty."

You bit down another giggle, reaching up boldly to touch his hair.

He gently swatted your hand away, still with a small grin on his face.

"Don't call me that."

"Big kitty?"

"Yes."

"Okay, kitty meow - meow."

He narrowed his eyes as you turned to continue walking in an attempt to hide the huge smile plastered on your cheeks that threatened to transform into a rather loud laugh.

"Uh-huh, whatever. You better not let anyone else hear you call me that," he huffed as he caught up to you rather easily.

As you were about to make another retort, your smile dropped at the sight of a familiar and unfriendly face that had come from around a corner.

"Christ," you squeezed your eyes shut in frustration, rubbing your forehead at the sight of your ex-boyfriend.

"Hey," Logan leaned down a little, nudging you gently, "I'm here, you're good. You're fine, don't worry about him. It's just us, alright? Walk past him like you don't even see him."

Though he'd be embarrassed to admit and absolutely deny it if anyone asked, he'd unfortunately (for himself) harbored a crush on you that only took a couple weeks to develop. He hadn't even really gotten the chance to know you yet, though that was precisely why he was glad about moments like these. He wanted to, even if he felt like a school kid with a playground crush.

You had simply nodded at his words, allowing him to place a gentle hand on your upper back to guide you down the hall with him. Even through the layer of a jacket and t-shirt, you could feel the warmth of his hand on you.

Logan remembered that moment in the hall on the first day you'd met, but never pestered you for details about what the hell went on before he got back. He figured when and if you wanted to tell him, that was up to you.

Keeping your eyes straight ahead, it took what felt like years to pass your ex-boyfriend. When you finally did, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, until his voice stopped you in your tracks.

"That's my shirt."

You whipped your head around, feeling Logan slip his arm a little further around you as a protective reflex.

"What?" you furrowed your eyebrows, looking down at your attire. The shirt, a tad oversized and well worn, was so familiar that you had completely forgotten it once did belong to him.

"I want it back," he spoke again, crossing his arms.

"Do you really want it back?"

You were beyond fed up with his pestering at this point, already having decided what may make the message clear.

"Yes."

"Okay. Fine."

You pulled away from Logan and slipped off your jacket, turning around to hand it to him. He gave you a confused look, hesitantly taking it out of your hands. In a matter of seconds, you turned back around and tugged the t-shirt up and over your head, tossing it directly at Danny's chest. You turned back and took your jacket from Logan's hands, zipping it far enough to cover your bra. In the few seconds you had stood facing him, he had done his best to keep his eyes away from your body and failed miserably, looking up after to see the asshole a few feet away already glaring at him.

"What, you're just gonna walk around like that? And what are you doing hanging out with him anyway, don't you know he - "

You groaned at the sound of Danny's voice again, gently tugging Logan by the hand in the opposite direction as you began to walk away, "yap, yap, yap - just shut the fuck up."

Logan couldn't help the smirk plastered across his face as you continued to walk, finally turning a corner. Before you could apologize to him for having to awkwardly stand witness to that, Scott's voice echoed from the stairway above you.

"Hey, Charles is looking for you two. He says he has something he needs you to take care of, he didn't say what."

"Thanks for the specifics, Scott," you replied sarcastically, "but we're supposed to check on - "

"I know," he interrupted, "I got Marie and Bobby to cover you. You're welcome, by the way."

You rolled your eyes and looked back to Logan, dreading what exactly it was Charles wanted from you.

That landed you where you were the next morning, heaving your bags into the back of Logan's truck.

"If we have to take the truck like two states over, can I at least drive?"

The plane being needed for another assignment that Jean, Scott and Ororo were assigned left the two of you with Logan's truck. You'd been asked to retrieve a rare mechanical piece needed for the construction of some new device; you'd only been half-listening when Charles started to explain the details, lost in thought after he'd mentioned it would require the two of you to sleep out overnight.

Man, that had made your chest feel tight. It had been almost physically painful trying to swallow down every tell that you really liked him for the past few weeks and now you had no choice than to be each others only company for nearly 2 days.

"Yeah, in your dreams, kid," Logan scoffed playfully and brought you back to reality, dangling the keys in his hand.

You narrowed your eyes at the keyring he began to spin around his finger. In a split second, the jangle of the metal could be heard as you snatched them from his hand with only a focused thought.

You caught them in your raised palm and tilted your head, a terribly smug smile across your cheeks.

"Looks like my dreams came true, huh?" you teased, walking past a still mildly distraught Logan to get into the drivers side.

"If you dent it, I'll kill ya," he warned as he finally slid into the passenger seat, watching your every move as you started the engine and carefully reversed out of the garage.

"Uh-huh, sure," you retorted sarcastically, "I'm terrified of the kitty claws."

"What did I say about calling me that?"

"Calling you what?" you feigned ignorance, fumbling with the knob on the stereo to change the station as your eyes stayed glued to the road.

"And don't mess with everything, kid, you'll end up breaking something. She's on old girl, you gotta - "

"Dude," you interrupted, simultaneously cranking down your window and fishing a pair of sunglasses out of his center console, "I know how to drive, chill out."

"Dude," he mocked, "this truck is probably almost as old as you, you gotta be careful."

You rolled your eyes under the shades of the worn aviators you had slipped onto your nose, simply nodding and continuing to flip through stations.

"Pick one and stick with it, will you?"

"Ooh, is someone mad I got the keys?"

Before he could say something in response, you gasped at sound of the song playing on the station you had just switched to, twisting the knob almost as far as it could go.

Logan recognized the familiar thump of "babe I'm gonna leave you" by Led Zeppelin, furrowing his eyebrows when you began to nod your head and sing along.

"You like Led Zeppelin?" he nearly had to shout over the music, leaning in to you a little further.

"Yeah," you responded, reaching over to turn the music down just enough for you to hear each other and glancing at him momentarily, "How come you're looking at me like that?"

He unfurrowed his eyebrows and shrugged, keeping his gaze on the road ahead as he spoke, " just never pegged you for a Zeppelin kind of girl, I guess."

"No? What's that supposed to mean?"

You were smiling again and it was excruciatingly difficult for him not to stare when you looked so good in the spot he usually sat with his old sunglasses on.

"Didn't think you had good taste in music."

That made you giggle and you shook your head, turning the stereo back up to a booming volume.

He watched you tap your fingers on the steering wheel to the drums as you continued to drive, occasionally moving to push your windswept hair out of your face. The morning sun shining through your open window highlighted your features perfectly and Logan sighed without a thought, unheard over the music. Jesus, he had it bad.

You could feel his stare in your peripheral vision every time he looked to you and it felt far warmer than the sun beating down on you from the opposite direction. You truly rarely ever used your developing skill of telepathy, feeling it was only justified when absolutely necessary to obtain information, but his burning gaze nearly had you veering off the road at times and his prior answer to the question of why he was looking at you that way wasn't too convincing.

With a deep breath, already wondering if it was a mistake, you kept your eyes focused to the road but gradually concentrated on the man beside you. Sometimes people's thoughts would appear as inner dialogue, other times as imagined scenarios, daydreams or visuals. You were confused, then, when you only saw an image of yourself as you were now. If you concentrated too hard, your own thoughts would transfer to Logan's mind and it would be humiliatingly obvious that you had been poking around in his consciousness and so you tried to clear your mind and try again, assuming your own mind was too preoccupied with yourself to concentrate properly.

Still, you could only see the image of yourself driving from the perspective of the passengers seat, one hand on the wheel and the other in your hair as you propped your elbow on the door. This time, though, you could hear the accompanying echo of Logan's voice over the hum of the music you had tuned out.

Is her hair always like that? I like it that way. Pretty.

You swallowed hard, fidgeting with the hair that was between your fingers. It's a compliment - innocent enough, and undeniably kind of sweet. You felt guilty then for probing his thoughts and nearly shook yourself out of it, only to realize the image in Logan's mind was no longer of just your profile. He was thinking about your legs, thighs squished against the seat of the truck.

Fuck

You nearly choked on your own saliva, clearing your throat at the echo of his voice again and immediately withdrawing yourself from his mind.

"You okay?" Logan spoke aloud, putting a gentle hand on your upper arm.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," you lied, trying with every fiber of your being to just keep all focus on the road. You knew you shouldn't have done that. It was just a thought, though, nothing said aloud to change anything between the two of you, and so you pretended the best you could that you hadn't heard or seen a thing.

About eight hours, a handful of dad rock albums and a stop to switch seats later, you finally pulled into the parking lot of the nearest motel you had found didn't have a highlighted "no vacancy" sign.

"If there's fucking bed bugs in here, I will never let you hear the end of it," you warned from the passenger seat.

"I think you'd talk my ear off till the day I die anyway," he scoffed, shifting the truck into park and pulling the keys from the ignition.

"You won't die for another hundred-something years."

"Exactly my point, honey."

You rolled your eyes and slipped out of the truck as he did, pretending the nickname hadn't made your face burn. You both grabbed your belongings and once inside you looked around the small lobby as Logan checked you in, impressed with how surprisingly clean the place seemed to be.

"Hey, is that okay?"

Logan's voice took your attention from the painting on the wall you'd been inspecting and you raised your eyebrows.

"Huh?

"Uh, there's a room left but it's only got one bed."

Your face dropped and you looked between him and the poor kid behind the counter who already looked nervous as all hell.

"You're kidding."

"We can keep driving, but we've already been on the road all day and I don't think there's another place around here for a good few miles."

He was much more calm than you expected him to be and you exhaled, thinking of the literal pain in the ass caused by sitting in the car for so many hours.

"Ugh, fine."

A/N: I had to split this in two because it was so long but If anyone likes this at all I will post da other part cause I like spewing my brain rot on the internet <3

[buckymorelikefuckme]

what a wicked thing to do

vampire wanda maximoff x fem reader

words: 4.2k

warnings & tags: **18+ ONLY** lesbian vampires yes GAWD, fantasy au, inaccurate historical au, smut, fingering, implied soulmates (?? kinda i guess), biting 👀, mention of blood, does this count as hurt/comfort? we shall see!! and uhhh it's kinda spooky ooky vibes but it's not really dark? i think. pls let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: listen..... i've already got spooky season in the brain and i really wanted to reshare this fic. i've edited it a little but i've also left the link to where i orphaned it on ao3 in the title if you prefer reading there~ any and all mistakes are my own! feedback is greatly appreciated and heavily encouraged pls and thank ♡ xoxo

wanda maximoff masterlist || main masterlist

It’s that time of year in between autumn and winter where it’s only getting colder and colder, no reprieve even during the sun’s highest point of the day. Part of you worries it’s a mistake to wander through the woods like this, especially so close to sunset.

But then you remember the briefest moment when you saw her, when your eyes met hers; it happened so quickly, but also felt as if time stopped. Something flashed in her gaze before she looked away and disappeared in the busy crowds of the village.

That moment, as brief as it was, leads you here. You hug your arms tighter to your torso, cursing the bitter wind whipping around you. Your dress had been a bright idea when you’d first thought of it. Now, you’re wondering why you thought such a plunging neckline would be smart, considering the seasonable chill in the air.

Although, you think with a flutter in your stomach, that’s not exactly true. You know exactly why you chose this dress.

There’s hardly any light left in the sky by now. You’re kicking yourself for getting lost in the woods, wondering if anyone would notice, or care, whether or not you return to the village. You have no family, no money, nothing tying you to anyone or anything. You work odd jobs to be able to make ends meet. The people knew of you, but you are sure they hardly concerned themselves with your well-being.

But then, when your gaze had met her own, you’d felt seen for the first time in ages. It was like she could see everything inside your mind, every ounce of longing and every bit of loneliness, even in the split second she held your stare. You haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since then. Nearly two weeks have passed, and you’d finally decided to find out if the stories that follow her hold any truth. They are quite colorful, full of fantasy and myth, surely decorated to sound more elaborate as the years go on. Fantasy and myth, perhaps, but one particular piece of information continues to remain the same.

She hasn’t seemed to age in the fifteen years she’s spent living near your village. Not one line or wrinkle to be seen on her pale skin. Not one gray hair on her head. Some of the elders even swear they'd seen her when they were children.

Her home is a mystery, one that stays that way out of fear. There is something about her eyes, some say, something off, not quite right. Because of this, no one has felt compelled enough to try finding her home.

At least, not until you.

You’re beginning to think you are truly lost, feeling hopeless, when you finally spot something in the distance. But just as relief washes through you, the rain starts. Each drop feels like sharp, stabbing pieces of ice landing on your exposed flesh, soaking into the thin fabric of your dress. It takes mere minutes for you to become drenched. Your dress is now clinging to your body uncomfortably, the cold even more biting than it already had been.

It comes into view, what you’d spotted several meters back, easier to make out. A looming castle breaks through the trees, windows lit with candles.

Your arms and feet are going numb, but you push through, stumbling your way to a cobblestone path that leads to tall, wooden doors. With a trembling hand, you raise the door knocker and bang it against the door as loud as you can manage, praying whoever is inside will hear.

Your wait is short lived, thankfully. The door creaks open loudly to reveal the very woman you’d been searching for. If she’s shocked to see you, she hides it well. She looks as regal as ever. A black dress hugs her lithe body, her hair perfectly brushed and styled. This close to her, you can see what the people mean. She looks ageless.

“E-excuse me, madam,” you begin, trying your best to keep your teeth from chattering. “I-I’m terribly lost and I d-don’t think I can find my w-way back to the village.”

The woman lets her eyes roam your shivering frame, lingering on your glistening chest for a second, then meets your pleading gaze.

“Of course. Please, do come in. I’m sure you’re cold.”

“Th-thank you,” you reply earnestly.

She steps aside, leaving just enough space for you to squeeze by.

“Think nothing of it,” she assures you. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you need, at least until the storm passes.”

As the door closes behind her, you take in as much of the space as possible. With it being nighttime, the candles can only do so much. For a castle, it is rather large, but it’s not quite as foreboding as you would have imagined. Though, you surmise, you hadn’t really known what to expect at all.

“Would you like something dry to change into?”

You whirl around, almost tripping over your feet as her voice registers, so close to your ear.

She smiles, amusement tickling the corners of her mouth. “Perhaps a cup of tea?”

Swallowing roughly, you nod, offering a smile of thanks in return.

“Very good. You should go sit by the fire to warm up while I get everything sorted.”

She points toward a room where you can see flickering light dancing off the walls. You nod again, letting your tired feet follow the promise of warmth. The closer you get to the large fireplace, the harder you shiver, goosebumps rising along your skin. You stand as close as you deem safe, hands held out to thaw them. For the second time, she sneaks up behind you.

“This is all I could manage to find.”

You gasp as you turn to face her. She’s still smiling as she holds up the proffered item of dry clothing.

“You frightened me,” you state dumbly, huffing a quiet laugh.

“I did not mean to,” she replies.

“It’s okay.” You glance at the clothes in her hand, a frown forming on your face. “A… dressing gown?”

She makes a sympathetic face. “It was all I could find,” she repeats.

Her eyes dip down to your chest again. They flash, just like in the village, but you’re sure it could have just been the fire reflecting in them. You look down to see what she’s staring at and heat rushes up your neck. Your nipples are clearly outlined against the wet fabric of your dress.

“Oh,” you murmur as you lift your arms to cover yourself.

She clears her throat delicately. “Take this. You’ll get sick if you keep your wet clothes on.” She pointedly holds the dressing gown out to you again until you gingerly take it. “I’ll go get the kettle started while you change.”

“Thank you,” you return quietly.

When you’re sure she’s gone, you undress as quickly as you can, more shivers wracking your frame as you stand naked in her drawing room for a few seconds before pulling on the silk dressing gown, tying it securely around your waist.

While you wait you decide to get a better look of the room. A few paintings hang on the dark walls, but mostly they’re covered with floor to ceiling shelves and stuffed to the brim with books. You take notice of a few spots where the dust hasn’t seemed to settle in front of them, figuring those must be her favorites. A plush chaise sits in the center of the room with two chairs on either side, atop an ornate rug that rests on most of the floor. There are a couple small tables between the chaise and chairs with candelabras on them, and a wide, lower table in front of them. You spot a desk by the only window in the room.

There’s nothing particularly personal about the space. It almost feels as if she’s newly moved in. But you know that can’t be true, especially since so many people in the village have seen her visit town for years now.

A piece of parchment on the desk catches your eye. You debate over whether or not you should let your curiosity get the better of you, your feet slowly carrying you over to where the paper lay. There’s writing on the top piece, and you get as far as the addressed “Brother,” but then hear her round the corner and quickly back away.

“I wasn’t sure if you took cream and sugar, so I brought them just in case,” she tells you, setting a silver tray on the low-lying table that held the teapot and teacups.

You walk over as she pours the tea into both cups. You pick one up and carefully drop two lumps of sugar into yours, stirring it with your teaspoon until you’re satisfied it’s melted. A careful sip as you sit down and you hum happily.

“Better?” she asks, smiling and taking a sip of her own tea, sitting beside you.

It occurs to you suddenly that you hadn’t asked for introductions. You scold yourself internally, knowing you had better etiquette than that.

“I must apologize, I seem to have forgotten my manners. I never introduced myself,” you say, then offer your name. “And what is yours, madam?”

“You may call me Wanda,” she replies.

“Well, I owe you a great deal for helping me, Wanda. I cannot thank you enough.”

She waves a dismissive hand. “Please, there is no need. I’m glad I was here and that you aren’t in danger of freezing to death.”

“As am I,” you respond, laughing lightly.

Silence settles between you. Your mind whirls with hundreds of questions, but you don’t know where to begin. Your plan to find her only consisted of just that— finding her. Now that you’re here, you aren’t quite sure what to do. Or say, for that matter.

You can feel her eyes observing you like a caress. You struggle not to squirm or shiver, though you are no longer cold. No, there is no chill clinging to your bones anymore. Her stare alone provides enough heat. You chance a glimpse of her from the corner of your eye, but she catches it. She purses her lips to keep from smiling in amusement.

“So,” you blurt, cheeks pinking, “have you lived here long?”

You bite the inside of your cheek as soon as the words leave your mouth. Stupid, stupid girl.

Thankfully, Wanda laughs.

“Quite,” she says teasingly, like she’s letting you in on a joke.

You nod. “I see. Is it a family home?”

She tilts her head consideringly. “Of a sort.”

What is that supposed to mean? Miraculously, you don’t ask that question aloud.

“Do you… Do you live alone?”

You’re not sure why you ask. Perhaps it’s that you haven’t heard any other movement throughout the castle that indicated a waiting staff of some sort. Afterall, she was the one to fetch the tea.

“I do,” she says.

You don’t want to examine it too closely, but you’re positive you note a hint of longing in her tone.

“S’a lot of space for one person,” you muse in acknowledgment.

She nods. “Indeed. However, I’m sure I’ll find the right companion soon.”

You take another sip of your tea to avoid replying, but are not able to avoid meeting her gaze. The look in her eyes is something you’ve never seen directed at you. You’re hesitant to think it could be want, open desire. Not from a woman like her.

—

Wanda still cannot believe that you’d shown up at her door.

She’s spent months watching you from a distance, never allowing herself to be seen by you—not until she felt it was time. From the very first moment she caught sight of you, she knew. You are hers. Her mouth watered when the wind brought your scent to her. There was not a doubt in her mind about whether she would have you; she simply would.

She had waited, ever so patiently, watching you as you roamed the streets of the village. You didn’t seem to have very many acquaintances, if any at all, and you were always alone. Wanda quickly figured out that you were without a family as well.

Selfishly, she’d been happy about these facts.

Finally, Wanda allowed herself to meet your gaze. It was quick, but she knew her eyes flashed, knew that she piqued your curiosity. It would only be a matter of time.

After nearly two weeks had gone by, however, she had started to think it hadn’t worked. She’d planned on returning to town to purposefully cross your path again, but as luck would have it, you came to her. As soon as she heard the knock on her door, she smiled.

Now, as she sits next to you on the chaise, your skin glowing in the firelight, she finds it harder to maintain her control. This close, your scent is even more intoxicating. Wanda can tell that you’re curious about her. The questions you want to ask are swirling behind your eyes. And now that you’re here, she decides she’ll answer whatever you ask, give you anything you want.

You’ve gone quiet, though, so she does some prodding of her own.

“What were you doing out in the woods?” Dressed like that, blessedly, goes unsaid.

You shyly glance down at your lap. “I, uh, I like to take walks,” you mutter into your teacup as you go to take another sip.

Wanda hums. A plausible excuse, indeed. You carefully lean forward to set your cup and saucer on the table and when you sit back you move your hair over to one shoulder. Wanda’s eyes zero in on the pulsepoint of your neck. If she focuses hard enough, she can see your heartbeat throbbing beneath your skin. It makes her teeth itch, makes her control waver even more.

When she drags her gaze away from your neck, she finds you already observing her. Her desire is clearly reflected in your eyes and the feeling is heady.

—

“Are you warm now?” she wonders.

“Yes,” you whisper, your breathing picking up, making your breasts heave alluringly.

You’d go as far as saying you are overheating. The dressing gown, where you’d been unsure and embarrassed of being nude underneath it before, is now a blessing. Your body feels alight with an unseen, growing fire. Shifting on the chaise, you don’t notice the sleeve slip down your shoulder, only registering the air skimming across your collarbones. You let out a surprised gasp when you feel something cold on your bare arm.

Peering down reveals it to be Wanda’s hand carefully sliding the sleeve back up into place. Your brows pull together in a frown.

“Your hand…” you mumble, trailing off.

She lets it linger on your shoulder for a moment, then slowly traces down your arm, her thumb grazing the side of your breast. Your nipples tighten, thighs clenching together as you watch her fingers stop at your wrist. Though her touch is cold, it feels like a relief against the searing heat of your flesh. You peek at her through your lashes and find her expression to be one of complete hunger.

Feeling emboldened, you hold her stare as you shift to pull the sleeve down again.

Her lips lift on one side, her teeth glinting dangerously. “Are you sure of what you’re doing?” she asks.

You blink, faux innocence shifting behind your eyes. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

Wanda takes a deep, steadying breath, though it only helps in inhaling your scent more. She says your name. “Why do you think you are here?” The question catches you off guard. Wanda shifts even closer to you, watching your throat bob as you swallow. “We both know it isn’t because you accidentally got lost in the woods. You were out there with a purpose. What was it?”

You lick your lips, noticing her gaze immediately drop to them. It makes your heart pound in your chest.

“I don’t know,” you reply, unsure.

She leans in, her nose nearly touching yours. “You do,” she whispers, without doubt. “Why are you here?”

Your eyes flutter closed, head tilting back without you being aware of it, exposing your neck. You feel her presence mere centimeters away from you, her breath puffing out along the column of your throat.

“I… I felt drawn here. It feels like I was meant to be here,” you say, quiet, almost hoping she doesn’t hear you.

It feels ridiculous to say it out loud. It’s one thing to have that thought sit in the back of your mind where you could pretend it didn’t exist, but to admit it aloud is entirely different.

“With me?”

You shiver at her words, her lips having softly dragged across your skin. Helplessly, you nod.

“Are you afraid?”

That makes you frown, but you adamantly reply, “No.”

“Open your eyes,” she pleads.

You follow her instruction, wary, but gasp at what you see. Sharp fangs peek out from Wanda’s lips, her eyes so pale they’re almost white now. Though your heart continues to race, it’s not out of fear. It should scare you, it should send you running, but you find your hand slowly rising to carefully trace a finger down one of her fangs, amazed that she even lets you.

“You’re…” You start, meeting her patient gaze once more. “Beautiful,” you finish in a whisper, because she is. You go to reach for her face to stroke her cheek, but she lurches backward. In a blink, Wanda’s on the other side of the chaise. Disbelief paints her features.

“You think I’m… beautiful?”

“Of course,” you state plainly, brows furrowing. Wanda continues staring at you in wonder. “You said I was here for a reason.” Ironically, she’s now wary of you as you shuffle closer to her. “I know what that reason is now.”

“Which is?” she asks apprehensively.

“You,” you murmur, cupping her cheek. “I’m here for you.”

Wanda looks as if she’s scared to accept this, to hope for it to be real. You steal away those worries by leaning in to place a soft kiss to her lips. She inhales sharply, eyes squeezing shut, her cold hands gripping your wrist almost painfully. You give her a moment, kissing her forehead as she gathers her emotions, keeping her gaze down.

“Are you sure?”

Her voice cracks softly, but her grip on your wrist loosens as you move it. You lift her chin so she’s looking at you.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

She stares at your lips for a few seconds, and then, as your words sink in, they seem to send her into action. She surges forward and captures your lips, more sure, more eager than before. You respond in kind, pulling her as close as possible, sighing into her mouth.

You quickly find yourself on your back on the chaise, Wanda above you, bodies slotting perfectly into each other like lost puzzle pieces. You feel her hand slide down from where it was in your hair to graze along your sternum. Then her hand cups your breast, thumb swiping across your nipple, and you gasp. It’s the perfect opportunity to deepen the kiss and Wanda takes it.

Her tongue slides against yours and you whine, clutching at her like she’s the only thing tethering you to this earth. It becomes so easy to let her settle between your thighs, to arch into her touch and slide your tongue in her mouth, delicately tracing over her fangs. Wanda shudders, grunting inelegantly before wrenching herself away, panting heavily into the space between you. You blindly chase after her, opening your eyes in confusion.

Wanda’s gaze is intent on your neck, full of desire. The weight of the moment hits you, then. What exactly it would mean if you give in to her. So, with full faith in your decision, you tilt your head ever so slightly and she goes perfectly still.

“Go ahead,” you encourage.

She shakes her head. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

You huff. “I do. I want you to do this.” You know she won’t look at you just yet, so you lace both your and her fingers together and squeeze hers as you continue. “I need you to do this.”

“If I do,” she starts, swallowing thickly, “I won’t be able to stop. You’ll end up like me.”

You duck your head to catch her stare. “And what’s wrong with that?”

She closes her eyes and falls silent for a moment. The weight of your words fall over the two of you like a winter blanket.

“I’ve waited so long,” she confesses, voice quiet, shaking and timid.

“For me?” you ask. She nods. “I’ve been looking for something, or someone, to make me feel whole all my life.” You use your free hand to stroke her cheek. Even with her eyes closed, she leans into you. “I’ve waited for you, too.”

When she finally looks at you, you know there’s no going back for either of you.

“It’s going to hurt,” she warns.

“That’s okay. It will only be temporary.”

She smiles then, slow and teasing. “I can ease the pain, you know.”

Her free hand tugs lightly on the ties holding your dressing gown closed, raising her eyebrows in silent question. You bite your lip and nod, shivering in anticipation. She undoes the careful bow you’d tied, easing it open and exposing your body to her hungry gaze.

If you felt heated before, you’re an inferno now. Her hands reverently map out every curve of your body. She leans down and plants a kiss above your belly button. It makes your stomach clench in want, but you make yourself lie there and take whatever she plans on giving you. Her kisses lead up your torso, until she’s eye level with your breasts, and before you can comprehend her movement, she’s taking one of your nipples into her mouth.

“God,” you whimper, head thrown back as you push your chest into her face.

“No,” Wanda giggles, “just me.”

You try to laugh, but it turns into a gasping moan when she pinches your other nipple between cold fingers. Your thighs attempt to close around her, yet it’s futile. Her free hand begins its descent down to the warm heat between your legs. Your hips buck into her touch, crying out when her fingers make contact with your clit.

“I’m going to do everything I can to make this feel good, okay? Let me take care of you.”

You nod quickly, your mouth going dry. When a single finger enters you, you forget how to breathe for a second, but then she’s sliding it out and back in, setting a steady rhythm, and you’re back to panting and whining. Only a few minutes later, though, you’re wriggling around, begging for more. She adds another finger and picks up the pace.

“Oh,” you gasp, your legs falling open wider.

Wanda buries her face in your neck, inhaling loudly, groaning. She licks across the skin there, nipping at you.

“Wanda,” you whimper.

“I know, my love,” she rasps. “You’re so close.”

Your hands have drifted above you, clutching at the pillows on the chaise, your hips moving in tandem with her fingers. Her thumb meets your clit, adding to the building warmth in your belly. It swells and swells, until finally, it has nowhere else to go and explodes within you.

You feel her teeth sink into your neck at the very same moment, and you can only yell brokenly into the air. Pain and pleasure war inside you, both white hot and searing, marrying themselves into a delicious and lethal combination. You can feel blood trickle down your throat, the same way you can still feel her fingers thrusting into you. It seems to never end and you grow limp beneath her, unable to handle the sensations flowing through you.

She finally slows, removing her teeth and licking over the wound. As her fingers slide free, she brushes your sweaty hair off your forehead with her clean hand.

“Sleep now,” she instructs, kissing you softly.

You can’t even attempt to argue, your body listening to her and promptly sending you into a deep slumber.

—

When you wake, before you even open your eyes, you’re aware of a few things.

To start, you’re no longer on the chaise. You’re on a luxurious bed, which is presumably Wanda’s. Your hearing is significantly better, as is your sense of smell. There’s a low thrum of energy coursing through your veins, like you’re on edge but don’t know why. But the more important thing you’re aware of is the feeling of eyes on you.

“I know you’re awake now.”

You crack open one eye and see Wanda smirking at you from the other end of the bed. You smile and sigh happily.

“How do you feel?” she asks.

You carefully sit up and stretch. You notice her ogling your still naked body and give her a smirk of your own. Shifting onto your knees, you crawl over the bed until you reach her and straddle her lap.

“Hungry,” you answer before grasping her face in your hands and attaching your mouth to hers.

With a force she hadn’t used before, she tosses you backward and is on top of you in a flash, a devilish smile on her tragically beautiful face.

“Good.”

[m4iya]

I like your accent, where're you from? Suna Rintaro

@moochiwoochi - from my 'wip ideas' event

When a new student transfers to your school, his lack of an accent - rather, its difference to yours - takes you by surprise.

"When are they going-ta just leave him alone? He's not a spectacle." Your friend groaned from beside you before taking a bite of her food.

At the front of the classroom sat a student who had transferred into your high school not long ago. Since he'd arrived, a bunch of your classmates had been hanging around him like he was some celebrity.

Though today, their excessive chatter and laughter made you feel increasingly irritated as your head had started throbbing from all the noise. You began to wonder if your classmates even brought lunch with them, seeing as their entire break seemed to be occupied in effort of gaining his attention.

Though he didn't seem too intrigued by the crowd, often trying to escape them. You'd also recently noticed that he'd developed a habit of randomly disappearing during breaks.

"Whatever, It'll probably die down in a few weeks," You replied, standing up from your table.

"Where're ya going?"

"Just-ta get some fresh air."

Your school was relatively large, with various places for students to spend their breaks. A courtyard, open rooftop and many outdoor seating areas. Though even with all the extra space, many students still preferred to stay indoors, eating their lunch in the cafeteria or spending their breaks in their classrooms.

You too spent most of your break time in class with your friends, but during moments like these, you needed to take a breather and rest your brain for some time.

In the courtyard was a large patch of grass, shaded by a few trees. It was behind one of the buildings, so it wasn't completely quiet, but it sure was a break from all the noise inside the classroom.

Buying something to drink from the cafeteria, you made your way over to the place you usually sit at. Though as you inched closer, you noticed a figure lying atop the grass. You initially had no idea who it was, but a few steps later, you noticed it was the new student who - when you last saw him - was being swarmed by your classmates. You wondered if talking to him was an option, finding it a little awkward to strike up a conversation even though you hadn't said a single word to each other since he'd transferred.

As you made the split second decision to leave, a dry leaf crunched under your foot, causing him to sit up; eyes immediately finding you. You shot him an awkward smile before proceeding to turn around, only to hear his voice pop up from behind.

"Wait,"

Turning back around, you saw him sitting cross legged, patting the patch next to him. Proceeding to sit down, you wondered what on earth he wanted.

"Did ya need something?" You asked, poking the straw into your drink, attempting to maintain an air of nonchalance.

"We haven't met yet. Aren’t we in the same class?"

You'd heard him speak before, although only once during class introductions, so him speak up close caught you off guard. It wasn't an accent something you heard everyday.

"Um.. Yeah, I am." You stuttered.

"Well, at least you aren't swarming me," He muttered, bringing his knees up to his chin. "Like, I've never heard a western accent in person either, so what makes me so different?"

You listened to him frustratingly complain to you - who was also someone he had just met - about the swarms of people clinging to him. The two of you ended up getting carried away in conversation, finding things in common with each other. Though, the ringing of the bell eventually sounded throughout the school, putting a lid on your conversation.

However, as you both made your way through back to class together, he still had one more thing to say.

"You'll have to teach me the slang one day."

"You'll probably pick it up on yer own." You joked.

Taking each other’s contact details, you’d begin texting, meeting up after school and continuing to hang out during breaks as well. Eventually, the crowds around him also fizzled out as they pretty much got used to him.

He’d joke around with you, saying, “Aw shucks, I’m not popular anymore.” and you’d laugh about it, responding with, “Yer five minutes of fame are finally over.”

other works

[bucketbueckers]

I'D RATHER PRETEND

extra 1: proposal ‘a few years had gone and come around...you looked at me, got down on one knee’

tags: @angryflowerwitch @avvwritesstufff @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @bueckersg1rl @l0verl4ne @clouded-whispers @dolliest-thena @katemartinlvr @numberonepartyanth3m @glamourdaya @pbbucks @unadulteratedcyclepaper @paiges-1vur @thelightknight21 wc: 4.7k notes: based on this request 🫡 sorry this took forever, i took a break from writing for a bit (writing 80k+ words over the course of a month alters your brain chemistry tbh). i was gonna link the proposal and the wedding together but decided to split them just so i could get something out for y'all! soooo trust that the wedding oneshot will be in the works soon and other slice of life snippets. if there's anything you wanna see, feel free to request! i'll get around to it when i have the time & my inbox is always open for yaps 🙂‍↕️as always i hope y'all enjoy!! 🫶

NOVEMBER 13, 2028

The first week of their postseason vacation couldn’t have gone any better. After a successful last year with the Sparks and the Wings respectively, Tess and Paige needed the time out of the country, away from basketball and other people. For four years, they’d spend up to six months away from each other training, playing, or travelling – it wasn’t much different from what they were used to in college, but they were nearing their five year anniversary and if Tess was being honest, she loathed only having Paige for half of the year. They planned to spend the first two full weeks of the offseason in Naples, Italy, where Tess had grown up – completely alone with plenty of time to relax after a grueling championship contending season.

So the first week was amazing. They flew in on a Monday, ordered room service and promptly fell asleep after dinner, far too jet lagged and exhausted after hours of travelling. On Tuesday, Paige treated her to breakfast in bed: delicate pastries and fruits and savory meats, then they toured an art museum – the Sansevero Chapel Museum. Tess was pretty sure Paige spent more time staring at her than the actual art they’d paid to look at, but she wasn’t going to complain. She enjoyed Paige’s attention more than she liked to admit. On Wednesday, Tess showed her around the inner workings of the city and the street she grew up on. Paige even met some of her extended family, such as her paternal grandparents and some other cousins. Tess’s family welcomed Paige in with open arms and made sure they stayed for lunch. They spent the rest of the day walking around the city hand-in-hand with Tess sharing childhood stories as Paige listened intently. On Thursday, they visited the San Carlo Theatre – coincidentally enough, they were performing an opera of Romeo and Juliet, which endlessly amused the both of them. On Friday, Paige decided she wanted to try every pizza place that Naples had to offer, and Tess didn’t really have the heart to say no to her. The weekend was spent lounging around, walking around the city some more, and visiting the beach, although they quickly gave up on that endeavor because it was entirely too cold.

Then the second week rolled around and Paige’s entire demeanor changed. When Tess woke up on Monday morning, shirt and underwear haphazardly thrown on after a long night, Paige was lying silently next to her, hands folded over her stomach. She was staring at the ceiling fan like it held the answers for whatever existential question she’d been pondering. Paige and silent were two things that never ended well when they were mixed together. The last time Paige had been eerily quiet had been after New Year’s in 2024 – that was a month of dread and panic that Tess never wanted to go back to, so she rolls onto her side, gazing at Paige.

“Do you ever think the trees are trying to communicate with us but we’re too dumb to understand them?” she asks seriously, watching five different expressions cross Paige’s face before she settles on amusement, laughing quietly.

Paige finally cranes her head over, her face softening when she locks eyes with Tess. Her hair is unruly, a mess from the night before, mascara flaking and her skin littered with marks. Tess is certain she’s never seen anyone more beautiful than Paige and she’s certain she never will. Even after almost five years together, Paige still makes her heart beat like she’s a teenager with a crush. “What happened to ‘good morning?’” she jokes.

“Not a good morning when I wake up and you’re social distancing,” Tess grumbles indignantly, pointing at the space in between them. “What happened to, I don’t know, ‘loving your girlfriend?’”

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Paige croons, her tone teasing. She rolls Tess onto her other side, curling an arm around her abdomen, her fingers lacing together with Tess’s over her navel. She rests her chin just above the crown of Tess’s head, sinking into the pillow. “Better?”

Tess hums, content, her hair raising at the feel of Paige’s skin against hers. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” she asks.

Paige huffs out something akin to shocked laughter. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”

“Paige, we’ve been together for almost five years,” Tess states. “You think I don’t know when something’s on your mind?” She twists the ring on Paige’s thumb as the blonde falls silent, thinking. “I don’t want you to ice me out,” she admits. “We said we wouldn’t do that. If there’s something wrong –”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Paige says quickly. She squeezes Tess’s hand, craning her head to press a gentle kiss on her temple. “Nothing’s wrong. Believe me. Everything’s perfect. Just…a big moment for us right now.”

“Free agency?” Tess asks, turning around in Paige’s embrace to face her fully after adjusting her arms. Paige’s face looks torn, uncertain – free agency has to be what’s weighing on her now, right? They’ve had this conversation numerous times, especially late at night after rough games when they’re missing each other and the distance feels like a burden. They’ve done this before, which is what Tess clings onto – they’ve been hundreds of miles apart in college but it’s so different now that they’re in the league and that they know their future is with one another.

“Free agency is up there,” Paige confesses after a while, frowning. “We don’t gotta talk about it right now. This is our vacation.”

“We say that every time,” Tess says softly, trying to start a conversation, not an argument. That’s been one of the biggest points of growth with Paige over the past few years. Tess is often too quick to jump to a conclusion, to get into her head about a situation or however Paige must feel about something. They’ve had these growing pains discussions numerous times, learning to be patient and trust each other more and more. Tess searches Paige’s features. “You and I both want to play ball. You know I don’t mind competing against you, but…I don’t like the distance, either. So, what do you want from whatever team you’re interested in?”

Paige hesitates, but Tess stares at her imploringly. “A younger team,” she says. “Lots of people are retiring. Stewie, BG, Sloot, Natasha. I wanna go to a team that’s gonna be together for a while, be a championship contender. I wanna be closer to you, too.”

“Okay,” Tess says, feeling slightly relieved – she and Paige are in agreement on that much. She wants longevity, a team that’s reliable, where she can settle down. She’s been stubborn on keeping up her apartment lease in LA just because she didn’t want to purchase anything permanent that wouldn’t have both hers and Paige’s name on it. “Do you have a team in mind?”

“I’ve talked to some people, yeah,” Paige says. “Have you?”

Tess nods. Paige’s thumb finds her jaw, tracing the skin there absentmindedly. “Say it on three?”

“On three,” Paige confirms. “One.”

Tess swallows. “Two.”

Together, they both say “Three,” and then –

“Valkyries,” they say at the exact same time.

The tension melts from Paige’s shoulders immediately as Tess breaks into peals of laughter. Paige shakes her head fondly, tucking her chin into the crook of Tess’s neck to hide the blush on her cheeks. “Okay. So we’ll sign with the Valkyries if they reach out to us during free agency.”

“Don’t think there’s gonna be an ‘if,’” Paige says quietly. “I talked to Azzi and she said Natalie was very interested in us. They recently got some crazy salary cap increase so I think their plan was to splurge on us, make it hard to say no. Pretty sure they also got Kiki and Ayoka to resign, so me, you, Azzi, Kiki, and Ayoka? Playoffs, easily.”

“Oh, so you think we’re starters?” Tess asks teasingly.

“You think they’re gonna drop a couple million on bench players?”

Tess shakes her head fondly, but presses her lips to Paige’s hairline, unable to keep the smile off her face. “I can’t believe we’ll be playing together next season,” she murmurs, feeling Paige tighten her arms around her waist. “After kicking your ass for nine straight years –”

“That is not what happened,” Paige interrupts, smushing her finger into Tess’s cheek. “2025? Ring a bell? UConn natty?”

“I recall a lot of things from that night but a natty was not one,” Tess states. “I remember you coming to my hotel room, and –”

Paige slides her hand across Tess’s mouth, shutting her up, but her eyes are slightly wide. “Don’t,” she says softly. The corner of her mouth twitches like she’s trying to hold back laughter. Tess rolls her eyes and she pushes Paige’s hand off of her. “Does this mean we gotta start apartment hunting now?”

Tess hums. “Maybe a house?” she suggests, watching Paige’s reaction carefully. As her words sink in, a smile grows unabashed on Paige’s face.

“You wanna buy a house with me?”

“Paige,” Tess says, a little indignant. “Duh?” Paige’s expression turns unbelievably tender, her smile softening. Tess quirks a grin of her own. “I’m thinking of something permanent, you know? Settle down, finally? Stay with the Valkyries until we’re, what – 40 something, Diana Taurasi style. Retire in the Bay. We’ll have our house, maybe four bed, couple baths. Us, maybe a kid or two, guest room for our friends. We’ll probably be coaching somewhere, collecting our rings when we’re old and washed up.” Tess swallows, realizing the gravity of what she’s just said. “I mean, if that’s something you’d be interested in.”

“Tess.”

“Hm?”

“Shut up.”

Before she can respond, Paige’s fingers are curling around her neck, pulling her in closer until their lips meet, and kissing her with a softness and a gentleness that hasn’t disappeared after so many years together. Tess can’t help but smile, feeling the promise, the agreement, that Paige presses against her. When she draws back, Paige’s smile is wide, her teeth showing and the corners of her eyes crinkling. “I want that with you,” Paige murmurs, just so that there’s absolutely no confusion. “Lemme put a ring on it before we start talking about kids, yeah?”

Tess narrows her eyes dramatically. “You need to hurry it up, then,” she says. “I won’t wait around forever.”

Paige lifts one of her hands, kissing her knuckles with a coy smile. “Trust me. Gonna make it worth your while, baby.”

Tess honestly should have known that she had another trick up her sleeve, but she was too lost in the moment to overthink her words. So she acquiesced, giving into the deep, lingering kiss that Paige pressed into her lips, letting herself sink further into their bed and reveling in the way Paige’s lips danced across her skin.

The rest of the week passed with little interruption or further weirdness. Paige did seem a little nervous at times, though the moment never lasted too long, so Tess didn’t think much of it. She and Paige continued to make the most of their time in Italy. They had a private couple’s painting event, where Paige, for whatever reason, painted the two of them as stick figures driving around in a basketball shaped car (she’s lucky that Tess is in love because otherwise…God help her). Paige booked them in with a renowned Italian chef who taught them how to make homemade pasta and various sauces, which went as well as one could expect – that is to say Tess was just endlessly distracted by the way the veins in Paige’s hands protruded as she kneaded the dough.

Then, on Friday the 17th – Tess’s birthday – Tess woke up to Paige’s lips on her face and an assortment of brunch food. They indulged for the better part of the morning, not leaving the bed until the afternoon until their spa appointment. Paige had declared that she “deserved to be pampered” and who was Tess to argue against that? The resort masseuse and the nail techs were incredible at their jobs and Tess left the appointment feeling incredibly refreshed. Her birthday dinner was at an upscale restaurant in the heart of the city and Paige gifted her another charm for her bracelet – this time in the shape of the Italian peninsula to remind her of their time here.

Saturday the 18th was different – there was a palpable shift in the air. She woke up a little past eleven in the morning, alone, which was concerning in and of itself because Paige is rarely awake before she is. Paige is a chore to get out of bed in the mornings and always has been. She’s the CEO of “five more minutes” or “come cuddle” which, Tess will admit, has only become more endearing over the years, but right now, all it does is worry Tess after the conversation they had earlier in the week about free agency.

She hardly has the time to overthink it too much because Paige is shuffling back into their room, sporting an insane case of bedhead and a slight smudge of toothpaste lingering on her bottom lip. The blonde grins at her, easing her nerves instantly, and she presses one knee into the bed as she leans over Tess’s body, planting a kiss onto her lips. “Good morning!” she chirps, which is the next indicator that something is up.

“Good morning,” Tess says, honestly a little confused. She wipes the foam off of Paige’s lip. “What’s gotten into you?” she asks suspiciously.

“What, I can’t be happy?” Paige raises a brow, leaning in to kiss her again. Tess stops her with a hand to her chest.

“Okay, now I know you’re being weird,” Tess states. “You woke up before me. You got out of bed and attempted to make yourself…somewhat presentable, when the first thing you do in the morning is beg to be the little spoon for a little while.” As she speaks, Tess smooths out the mess on Paige’s head, frowning slightly. “You’re too happy right now. And you keep trying to distract me. So, you’re plotting something. What’s going on?”

Paige huffs dramatically, leaning away from Tess. “Nothing’s wrong, ma, swear,” she vows. Tess narrows her eyes at her, studying her features closely, but all she can make out is an anxious earnestness and unequivocal love. Paige cups her cheek as she kisses her temple gently, moving her mouth to her ear to whisper, “Everything’s perfect right now. Trust me, okay? Just wanna make you happy.”

“You do,” Tess affirms. Paige’s words soften the tension in her shoulders. Maybe she is overthinking again, which isn’t unlike her. Paige has never given her any reason to doubt her words, not in the near five years they’ve been together. She owes it to Paige to have more faith in her, in them.

A smug look crosses across Paige’s features as she pokes Tess in the cheek obnoxiously. “I know.” Tess rolls her eyes fondly as Paige leaves the bed fully. “Now get dressed. This is our last day in Italy and we got shit to do. Can you do my hair?” Tess meets her eyes through the mirror, raising a brow slightly. “Please?” Paige adds.

“I’ll house train you one day,” Tess mumbles, though she knows Paige is basically a lost cause at this point. Her girlfriend smiles at her and all of her faux annoyance washes away in an instant as Tess presses a kiss to her cheek, beginning to work on her hair. Paige gives her free reign to work and Tess elects to leave Paige’s down in natural, loose waves. Then, they get dressed – Paige dons a baggy pair of black cargos with an oversized white sweater and matching white sneakers. She doesn’t forget her chain or the various rings on her fingers, which makes Tess contemplate telling her to cancel their reservations for wherever they’re going so they can spend the day in bed (again – but that’s no one’s business but their own). Tess herself dresses in white sneakers, a pair of light-wash blue jeans, and a patterned sweater that she’d stolen directly from Paige’s luggage – the very sweater that Tess claimed made Paige look like an art teacher.

Once they’re ready to go, Paige leads her hand-in-hand down the busy streets towards a restaurant. They indulge in a late lunch, cracking jokes, sharing stories and optimism for the future – Paige wants an outdoor court built at whatever house they’re buying (possibly the least surprising thing Tess has ever heard), and Tess’s only real complaint is that she doesn’t want to live in an obnoxiously huge mansion. As long as the house has what they need and they have their family, then there’s not much else that Tess wants.

After lunch, they arrive at a private pottery making class, which takes a good few hours out of their day. Paige looked absolutely silly with her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and covered in clay, and Tess is sure that the only thing that stopped them from initiating an all-out clay war was the elderly woman who was carefully instructing them. Eventually, their creations start taking shape – a vase for Tess and a lopsided mug for Paige, and while they get fired in the kiln, the instructor talks them through the history of Italian pottery and ceramics.

Tess had thought the pottery class was their last stop on the day, but Paige had something else planned. “It’s a secret,” she claimed, but she seemed a little more nervous than she was earlier that day, which did little to quell Tess’s sudden anxiety until Paige pressed her lips to her knuckles. “Trust me.”

And so she did, allowing Paige to lead her down the streets once more in the fading daylight. The sky was lined with streaks of pinks, oranges, and a dimming yellow. Tess knows she says it a lot, but in this light, Paige looks absolutely radiant – the sharp lines of her face softened by the gentleness of the sky, the blush on her cheeks heightened by the chill in the air. Her palm was warm against Tess’s, rough in some places and smooth in others, but Tess loves every inch of Paige just the same.

Finally, the two of them stop in front of an unassuming door, one that Tess had never seen growing up here. Paige’s nerves seem to return tenfold as she pauses. Tess watches her face contort as if she’s battling some internal decision. She squeezes their linked hands, feeling the relief that exudes from Paige’s body, and the blonde smiles tentatively. “You first,” she states, resting her free hand over the door knob. Tess gives a confused, yet trusting nod, as Paige opens the door and ushers her inside.

The breath is all but sucked from her lungs as soon as she’s indoors. The lighting in the room is dim, but Tess can see nearly everything. The rose petals creating a path for them, the flickering of candles strewn about, but the part that truly captures her attention are the polaroids that hang from the ceiling on thin twine strings. The one closest to the entrance are incredibly new, selfies of the two of them from the week before, a picture of Tess and Paige swept up with Tess’s extended family. There’s a solo shot of Tess grinning at the camera for Paige, dolled up in her birthday dress and holding a glass of wine.

Paige doesn’t say anything – she doesn’t have to. She rests her palms over Tess’s hips as she guides the both of them forward, allowing Tess the time to properly look at all of the pictures. As they walk through the room, which Tess figures was an art gallery given the abstract paintings on the wall, the pictures get older and older. There’s a photo of the two of them from the WNBA finals, confetti sticking to their sweat-slick bodies as they embraced in the middle of the court. There’s a photo of them at the Olympics holding up their matching gold medals. There’s countless shots of them sharing the basketball court, as rivals, and part of Tess can’t help but get choked up because they’re not going to be rivals on the court after this vacation is said and done. After nine years, she finally gets to play with Paige, as teammates, and she’s not sure if there’s anything in the world that could possibly top that feeling.

Their WNBA memories filter out, leading to their college ones. There’s one of the two of them from the national championship, displaying the two of them staring at each other – Tess on one side of an half-empty court, Paige on the other swarmed by her teammates. The pride reflected on Tess’s face is evident in the photo. There’s a bunch of other memories, their February game, holidays celebrated with each other, their summer of 2024 world tour, and photographs of them from when they were “pretending.” Tess spots herself perched on Paige’s lap during the first Thanksgiving she spent with the extended Bueckers family, arguing over Fortnite with Paige as Paige’s siblings watched on in amusement. There’s countless FaceTime screenshots, back when the two of them were truly getting to know each other, selfies from their Bose trip that changed everything, and finally, as they’re nearing the end, the photographs melt into their initial soft launch photos, that damned coffee shop and Paige’s less than subtle appearance. But the last photo isn’t like the others. The rose petal path has led them to the back end of the art gallery, still illuminated by the soft lighting. The last photo is framed. It’s of the two of them shaking hands after the first game they played against each other on February 8, 2021. That date has stuck with Tess for a while now. If you’d told her younger self in 2021 that she’d be here, now, with Paige Bueckers, she wouldn’t believe you. But now? She can’t think of anything more fitting, more obvious than her and Paige.

With tears brimming her eyes and wrought with nostalgia and gratefulness, Tess turns to meet Paige’s gaze, but she’s already looking at her. She always is. Paige looks extremely nervous, but there’s a spark of determination that Tess knows all too well.

“We met almost eight years ago,” Paige states, her voice soft as her shaky hands reach out for Tess’s. “In Gampel. We played against each other and I learned so much from you – I just didn’t have the courage to talk to you, and I regretted that for months. Then, two years after that, in May of 2023, God sent you to me again. It was awkward, and unconventional, and I thought you didn’t like me –” the two of them share a watery laugh, “–but I knew I had to make the most of it. Of us. I wasn’t gonna let you get away from me, not again. So we fake dated. I just wanted you in any way you’d have me. I was happy to just be your friend. But as time went by, I fell for you, and…” Paige smiles at her. “I was scared at first, but part of me knew it was gonna happen. You’re a competitor, you’re stubborn, and the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known. You get me, always have, and me falling in love with you was real. We’re real. I’m so thankful for what we have, for you, and knowing that we’ll be playing together next season is everything I’ve wanted for nearly eight years. I can’t wait to do this with you. I can’t wait to build a life with you. On New Year’s Eve in 2023, I told you my resolution was building something permanent. I’ve kept that promise, but I’m gonna amend that to say my resolution is to build something permanent with you.”

Paige releases her hands, exhaling, and Tess almost chokes on a sob when Paige carefully drops down to one knee, her hands reaching into her pocket to produce a small ring box. Her hands shake as she opens the top, revealing the gold engagement band and a stunning, sparkling diamond, minimalist yet beautiful in the way Tess prefers her jewelry. But the ring doesn’t hold her attention for too long. She gazes down at Paige, at the tears beading at her waterline, the clear anticipation and nervousness and unfiltered love in her eyes. Tess watches a soft smile spread across Paige’s face as she finally asks the question she’s been waiting to hear for years. “Tess Kennedy, will you make me the happiest woman in the world and marry me?”

Tess doesn’t even have to think about it. She sinks down across from Paige, throwing her arms around her neck and pulling her in for a bone-crushing hug. “Oh my fucking God,” she murmurs, not even feelingly slightly ashamed as she soaks Paige’s sweater with her tears. Paige wraps her arms around her middle, pulling her close tightly as she laughs.

“So is that a yes?”

“Yes, Paige,” she stresses, barely resisting an eye roll when Paige’s face lights up, simultaneously melting with relief. “I told you I wanted to marry you almost four years ago. You really thought my answer was gonna change?”

Paige huffs, amused, as she slides the ring onto Tess’s finger. The candlelight reflects beautifully off it. The ring is gorgeous but Tess can’t keep her eyes off of Paige, whose eyes shine with tears and gratitude. “Just wanted to hear you say it.” Her tone is gentle but also a little smug. “Tess Kennedy wants to marry me,” she sing-songs.

Tess rolls her eyes fully as she and Paige stand up. “You literally got down on one knee and asked, you jerk,” she retorts, reaching up to cup Paige’s cheek and brushing away one of her tears. Her voice is soft despite her words, which makes Paige laugh as she grabs Tess by her wrist and presses a kiss to her open palm, her smile bright and fully enamored. Then, a realization dawns on Tess and she groans, pressing her forehead into Paige’s shoulder. “Oh my God. Is this what you were so nervous about last week? Not free agency?”

Paige laughs, a sound straight from the belly as she wraps her arms around Tess’s shoulders. “I didn’t lie. I was a little nervous about free agency, but I was a lot more nervous for this. Knew you’d say yes – you’re in love with me and shit –”

“And shit?” Tess asks, shaking her head.

Paige nudges her. “Just wanted to make it perfect for you,” she admits, all teasing gone from her tone. “Told you I had to make it worth your while.”

“It was perfect,” Tess says honestly. “You could have asked me anywhere, anytime, and I would say yes. I love you. But I did really like the pictures.”

Paige pulls back to grin at her. “Thought you would,” she murmurs, leaning down to kiss her gently. “I love you, too. Is it too early to call you Mrs. Bueckers?”

Tess pushes her away with a hand to her chest, affronted. “For the record, we’re hyphenating,” she declares. “Mrs. and Mrs. Bueckers-Kennedy.”

“Might not fit on the jerseys,” Paige goads.

“We’re gonna win the Valkyries a couple of championships,” Tess says. “They’re going to have so much money they’ll figure out how to get our names together on the jerseys.”

Paige smiles again. “That works for me,” she says, softer this time. She presses her lips to Tess’s again, pulling her flush against her body, enveloping her in a warmth she’s content to feel for the rest of her life. Tess grins against her, but Paige responds with a smile of her own, not minding, only holding her tighter.

She doesn’t know how to explain it – this overwhelming happiness. She’s engaged – oh my God, she’s fucking engaged; her parents are going to lose their mind – and she has everything she’s ever wanted. That much was true years ago when she had her natty wins and her girlfriend, but now? She has her fiance and the promise of a future together, on the same team, in the same house in the Bay, and all she really knows is that she can’t wait to walk down that aisle whenever the time comes.

[hyperions-light]

We’ve Always Been Here: Spite’s Fade Ossuary was Fantastic, Actually

Let me first say that I am SO excited to talk with you guys about the Ossuary because it was one of my favorite single sequences in the whole game! Ever since that sad wet cat man showed up like

I knew he was barreling 127 mph against traffic down the mental heath highway. He was Girl Rotting. Languishing. He was absolutely going to have a mental breakdown, and I was so there for it. When Spite asked for help, I fucking cheered.

Before we properly get started, I do want to say that while I did the Lucanis romance, this post isn’t about that and I did my best to make sure any differences between the versions were accounted for. I think the mind prison is good no matter what.

So, you find out that Caterina is probably alive from Viago and Teia, and that Illario more than likely is keeping her captive. Lucanis cannot decide what to do because he is afraid anything he chooses will put Caterina in danger. Spite turns to you and asks for help; whatever you say to him, he tells you that Lucanis is stuck somewhere and that he can’t get him to leave, and then teleports you to a Fade version of the prison Lucanis was held in, the Ossuary.

This is Lucanis’ brain (the text refers to it as such multiple times). He is still, subconsciously, trapped in this place; Spite tells you that he cannot free Lucanis because there are guards in the way he cannot pass. Rook enters the first of several rooms, which is empty.

Rook's Room

Now, I have seen people complaining that Rook is not featured in this prison, but they are. This is their room. Rook asks Spite why there’s no one there, and the following exchange occurs:

Spite: Of course not. Rook can’t be here.

Rook: Me? Why not?

Spite: You open doors. You don’t close them.

Lucanis’ mind has created a paradox; each room is guarded by someone he is afraid he will hurt, so Rook should be here, but they can’t be. There is no universe in which Lucanis can conceive of Rook participating in his captivity. They freed him, and so they can never be his jailer. Whatever that means to your Rook in context, it is an incredibly powerful statement about how deeply Lucanis trusts and values them.

As Rook enters and exits each room in the prison, they will hear a piece of dialogue randomly chosen from what seems like a pool of lines from Zara, Calivan, Illario and random Venatori. All of these things appear to have been said about Lucanis; this serves to set up the frame of mind he’s currently experiencing and in which he existed the prior year. They talk about how he’s worthless, how he’s a demon, how he’ll never escape, and Illario talks about how he should leave everything to the Crows, specifically excluding Lucanis from that group, at one point. It’s very atmospheric and interesting; I recommend stopping to listen to them.

Caterina's Room

The first real room you can enter has Caterina Dellamorte in it— or, rather, Lucanis’ idea of her. On the tables surrounding her are three notes with something Lucanis has said, and then his thoughts annotating that sentence. There are three of these in every room until you reach Lucanis. Caterina’s are:

Which all circle around the idea that Caterina and Illario are his only remaining family, and that he fears losing them both. When you speak to Caterina, she will say that Rook was supposed to bring Lucanis back to her, but instead has brought an abomination. Rook can choose what to say to get her to leave: either that she will still love her grandson no matter what, that her legacy is stifling Lucanis, or that Lucanis' fear of disappointing her is keeping him here. In two of her answers, she refers to Lucanis as a demon, reflecting Lucanis' fear that he is no longer really her grandson, and has instead transformed into something unrecognizable that she cannot love. Rook's words dispel this fear, opening the way to the next room.

Okay, as this is sort of long already, I'm going to go ahead and split the post into two parts here, so that I can cover Harding, Neve and Illario's rooms adequately. The next post is here.

[shantechni]

Related to your post about Mikey "accidentally delivering low blows when stressed" (Aug 2023) would you hc that it's related to his emotional awareness of his family? Like when he blamed Splinter for letting them go up to the surface, he would know Splinter was already questioning his decision to let them do that, or he calls Splinter out on not being affected by his mutated appearance (when Splinter looks uncomfortable being seen by humans/Shredder)? Basically, what are your further thoughts on it? Has he done this elsewhere?

The post in question for the curious cats

This compilation video as well because my big brain remembered me doing that and it's related to this topic and I meant to do a part 2

Oh, that behavior is 100% related to Mikey's emotional awareness. I'd hardly even call it a headcanon, it's just canon lol.

After not only botching their first fight above ground but failing to stop two kidnappings on their watch, the boys immediately start playing the blame game by pointing out each other's rash decisions and dumb mistakes that led to such an outcome. Obviously, the idea of Splinter's decision being yet another mistake of the sorts was hanging somewhere in the air waiting to be grabbed at, but no one readily went for it as something that needed to be acknowledged as a mistake. That's why it's so fascinating to see the writers establish Mikey right out of the gate as someone who isn't afraid to comment on Splinter's decisions and his emotional state when he's making those decisions.

He was certainly aware of their father's doubts concerning them going above ground for the first time because a comment like that doesn't just come out of nowhere.

Granted, this instance was him speaking his mind in the heat of the moment and only realizing how much his words would sting after the fact (especially since they're the ones who convinced Splinter to send them off with their begging), but this becoming a continuous trend of his throughout the series further proves the fact of him being more aware of things than a lot of people pegged him to be.

In Mikey Gets Shellacne, his remark about Splinter telling him not to fret about his appearance when he could hardly bring himself to do the same can be interpreted as a more apparent example of him knowing more than he lets on. It's made rather obvious from the start of the series that Splinter wasn't keen on roaming the streets looking like a giant rat, but that's more of a "show and don't tell" deal where both the audience and the characters are left on their own to pick up on such an important yet minor detail. Splinter never tells anyone about his insecurity, nor does anyone in the series talk about it amongst each other, so a moment like this can be a bit jarring when it's framed as Mikey calling out Splinter's opinion on his own appearance.

Though the intent of his comment was to simply call Splinter old, the underlying insult is there and Mikey regrets saying something like that to their father of all people.

Other than letting his frustrations get the better of him and unintentionally plucking at Splinter's insecurities, Mikey is greatly in tuned with the emotions of those around him and will usually pick up on any changes rather quickly. Take these two moments with, funnily enough, him and Splinter near the start of Serpent Hunt.

I previously posted the first clip as a funny little observation, but the scene is more intriguing than my jestful sentence made it out to be. Mikey's attention is split between hanging his goofy pieces of artwork on the wooden boards and listening to April as she announces how the restaurant is starting to look like a makeshift home. It's not until he turns around to joke with her about his drawings that he finally has Splinter in his sights, and his attention evidently begins to drift to Splinter as April is responding to his question (you can literally see his head following Splinter's movements while April is speaking to him😭). And just look at how taken aback he is by Splinter's melancholic expression being on full display:

While Splinter answers Mikey by stating that he's concerned for Casey, Leo and Raph because they've been gone for a while, it's pretty obvious that's not all he's bothered by, and him not being subtle about his troubled mind like usual had enough flags raising in Mikey's mind for him to hop up from his spot. Once the scene transitions to the second clip, Mikey lingers with Splinter in the front of the restaurant while April ventures to the back in search of Donnie to check on his progress with the retro-mutagen, as well as to see if the others made it back yet. Mikey and Splinter decide to follow April as soon as Donnie utters Karai's name, and Mikey is visibly bracing himself for another look of heartbreak on their father's visage:

Splinter moments aside, Mikey recognizes when something is up with his brothers and friends, as well as whether or not he should step in. Of course the prominent moments of him demonstrating his ability to calm Leatherhead and Raph down count among the times when he steps in, but the times when he chooses not to step in shouldn't be understated either.

Take the pre-intro scene in The Cosmic Ocean for example, when April breaks the silence and questions where Leo ran off to. We understand where Raph is coming from when he says that it can't be healthy for Leo to confide in a simulated version of Splinter since it could just make him miss their father more than ever, but Mikey suddenly pops from his laid back position off-screen and joins the conversation:

He's knows as well as Raph that speaking with a simulation of their father isn't exactly ideal, but he also knows that Leo is used to coming home to confide in Splinter for advice whenever he feels his confidence as a leader beginning to waver. The whole gang knows all of this, but once again, Mikey's the only one to verbalize it. Sometimes people need to hear something so obvious outloud to really understand or remember its importance, and Mikey seems to know that best.

I don't really need to mention how his emotional awareness extends far beyond simply knowing when someone is down, or when he is or isn't in a position to help them, but it makes for a decent epilogue to this analysis so-

Him being the least (read: least) temperamental of his brothers automatically puts him in the position of a mediator when there's tension in the group, and it's common knowledge that he'd often go out of his way to ease that tension in his own ways. He sometimes makes jokes, both corny and intelligent, just to get everyone's minds off of the heaviness of a situation, even if that moment of reprieve only lasts for a minute. He attempts to break up fights before they get too far, which sometimes doesn't work because they're a stubborn bunch of turtles (literally the entire first five minutes of New Girl in Town lol), but his efforts are commendable and genuine.

He's exceptionally conscious of changes in the atmosphere and a swing in someone's mood, which could go hand in hand with his sixth sense for weird Kraang stuff if you think about it. But all of this comes together to paint an undeniably clear image of Mikey having a great amount of emotional awareness, and just all around being one of the most emotionally intelligent characters of the series.

[wheeboo]

mine | joshua hong

SYNOPSIS. in which joshua is the best thing that's ever been... yours. PAIRING. joshua hong x gn!reader (ft. cheol, jeonghan, soonyoung, mingyu, chan - they don't rlly have dialogue tho lol) GENRE. fluff, some angst, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, established relationship WARNINGS. a very very brief shirtless joshua moment LMAO, implications of reader having a toxic ex, mentions that reader's parents have a rocky relationship and separate, kissing, terms of endearment, reader and joshua have a lil argument WORD COUNT. 3.6k

requested from @staranghae: joshua + mine by taylor swift for the 2k followers event please 🩷🎀

notes: i am fluent in this song!!!! whenever my love playlist comes on and this plays i literally scream lungs out!!! and shua fits this vibe so much <3

join the 2k celebration!

ONE. "i was a flight risk, with a fear of falling / wondering why we bother with love, if it never lasts..."

Maybe you've always underestimated how the feeling of fresh air hitting your lungs makes you feel so replenished, free, like a single whiff blows away those gusts of worry in an instant.

Your fingers carry a tight, secure grip on Seungcheol's surfboard𑁋you volunteered to carry it for him so he could unload the other things from the van𑁋soft sand meeting your toes the second you step onto the beach for the first time of the summer season. Salty air tingles at your nose, the late afternoon sun baring down on your shoulders, and the expanse of the ocean opens up right before your eyes.

This place had basically watched you grow up. It carries a lot of memories that you hold dear to your heart.

You see Soonyoung already digging into the sand with an abnormally large stick, and Mingyu carrying a bunch of firewood in his arms before dropping them down onto the ground (and accidentally one on his foot, but you won't say anything about that).

However, your eyes drift and land on a figure running up from the beach shore. His dark hair is wet and sticking to his forehead, chest and arms revealed in all its glory before quickly covered up by a white, somewhat lacy button-down shirt that still doesn't do much in concealing the muscles underneath. For a moment, you nearly loose the grip on Seungcheol's surfboard.

Joshua Hong seems to spot you from even a mile away. He's running up to you before you even have the minute to breathe, a grin splitting his face that's as warm as the setting sun. Sand clings to his damp flip-flops and the hem of his black shorts as he nearly skids to a halt in front of you, chest heaving and out of breath. His shirt isn't even buttoned, dammit.

"Hey," he greets you breathlessly, letting his eyes take you in for a second. "Glad you could make it."

A soft smile of your own blooms on your face. "It's good to see you too, asshole."

A flicker of feigned hurt plays across Joshua's features. "Come on. That was so two years ago! I didn't want to push you in the water. You should know that by now."

"Wow, you care so much about me, don't you?" You nearly swing Seungcheol's surfboard playfully in his direction. "You listen to Jeonghan more than your own little brain."

"I swear, it's changed. Everything's changed since then," Joshua reasons lightly. "You have my ears for the entire night, I promise."

His words hang in the air for a moment, and there's perhaps a sliver of fondness in his eyes that you catch when your gazes meet. You feel a certain warmth spread through your chest that you try so hard to ignore each time he's around you.

You brush it off with a roll of your eyes before strolling past him, hoping that Seungcheol's surfboard was enough to cover up the slight flush creeping up your cheeks. The smile to your face still lingers as you walk towards to where Soonyoung and Mingyu are, whom dash up to you the moment they see you to engulf you in a welcoming hug.

Mingyu is almost done setting up the bonfire by the time you and Seungcheol bring all the food and supplies from the van. Jeonghan and Chan had arrived by the time the fire is lit up and crackling, casting a warm, inviting glow on the beach scene. And it isn't long when the yearly traditions of a group bonfire and beachside barbecue commence.

The smell of grilled food fills the air, mixing with the salty breeze and the crackle of the fire. And just for those moments, you forget these fuzzy feelings swirling around you as familiar laughter and camaraderie take over instead.

You've known all of your friends for different amounts of times, but being here with all of them makes it feel like time hasn't passed by at all. Inside jokes are exchanged, memories from as far as childhood resurface, and stories are told that leave you all doubled over with laughter (and Soonyoung nearly choking on a marshmallow).

It's almost natural in the way your eyes seem to search for Joshua's every single time that feeling of happiness threatens to overflow within you. The fire flickers upon his face, his eyes crinkled deeply when he smiles. Happiness looks good on him, you think. It always has.

...does his eyes search for yours too?

By the time the fire dies down, you find yourself sitting near the edge of the beach, with your legs stretched on the sand and the waves barely lapping against your feet. Seungcheol and Mingyu are already out on the ocean on their surfboards, then there's Chan and Soonyoung struggling to get their sandcastle to stay up, and Jeonghan is already knocked out on a beach towel. It's just you, and wherever the hell Joshua is.

"Something's bothering you, isn't it?"

The voice snaps you away from your thoughts, and you pick your head up to see Joshua walking up to you. A cool breeze flows through his strands of his hair as he approaches.

You blink at him. "What?"

He sits down beside you on the sand, close enough that the warmth of his body brushes against yours. "You were too quiet earlier."

You face back towards the water, cowering your head down as if guilty of some sorts.

"Oh," You murmur, somewhat to yourself. "Sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Joshua asks, nudging you lightly on the shoulder. "I told you earlier that I would be all ears for you."

You smile faintly at that. Would you still be all ears if I told you that I've been such a coward with my feelings for you?

"It's... just boy problems, I guess," You respond, though you feel a twinge of regret for wording it like that. It's more than just simply boy problems.

Joshua's jaw seems to tighten at that. "Did that jerk contact you again?"

You know who exactly he's talking about, and you let out a sigh. "No, not him. I... I blocked him a few months ago when he tried spam calling me again. Sort of gave me a good scare, to be honest."

At the corner of your eye, Joshua's hand digs aimlessly into the sand, clenching and unclenching a fistful before smoothing it out again.

"I'm glad you're okay," he says softly, gaze fixed on the grains of sand slipping through his fingers. "You deserve someone way better than him."

You chuckle at that, and a bittersweet pang shoots through your chest. It's true, you deserve better. But really, the problem isn't just jerks and bad relationships. It's the thought of falling for someone again and it all comes crashing down... again.

But it's not like you could hold back from falling when you've already fallen. The truth is undeniable at this point𑁋your heart already beats a little faster for the boy right next to you.

"Guys! Look at the sunset!" Chan's voice rings out into the cool, evening air, pointing an excited finger towards the horizon.

Simultaneously, you and Joshua bring your eyes up tot the sky together. The last rays of the sun are painting the sky in a breathtaking display of fiery oranges, pinks, and purples, like a fleeting masterpiece before nightfall takes hold.

"Wow," You mutter out in awe. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Joshua cocks his head to the side, a low hum leaving his lips. "Hmm, I could think of something more beautiful than that, honestly."

You scoff, hitting him lightly on the shoulder. "You ruined the sentimental moment, idiot."

Joshua lets out an amused laugh, a sound that sends those flutters blossoming in your stomach, one you haven't realised you've missed until this very moment. A small giggle of your own escapes your mouth as you bring your eyes back to the sunset together.

Then a low yawn stifles out of you. Maybe everything that has happened the past few hours are finally catching up to you. You let out another yawn, hoping Joshua doesn't notice. But of course, he does.

"Getting tired?" he asks you.

You give a small nod. "Just a little."

A few moment pass, before you feel an arm drape casually over your shoulders. The scent of Joshua and his warmth seeps within your bones. You almost want to protest, but the words get caught in your throat, and you lean your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest with each breath.

Perhaps you could spend a long time staying in this position and hope the silence is able to spill all the words you've been meaning to say for all this time, but you know it's easier said than done. Because what's the point of confessing anymore if you know it won't ever last? That you know it'll ruin everything you've built up to get this far?

You've seen it happen around you𑁋with you, your parents, hell even strangers online. It's taught you nothing but to run. That's what your mind tells you to do, but not your heart. And maybe you listen to your mind more often than not.

"Yo, Josh!" Mingyu's voice hollers out from the ocean, and you feel a certain pressure be lifted up from your head (when did he lay his head on yours?) as you catch the sight of Seungcheol and Mingyu motioning to their surfboards. "Wanna hop on?"

Joshua briefly glances down at you, and you meet his gaze, seeing the indecision in his features.

"I don't mind," You tell him. "I'll be fine here."

He hesitates. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, don't worry about me." You pick your head off from his shoulders. "Go have your boy-fun."

Joshua gives you a small smile, though there's a hint of reluctance in his expression. He shouts back to Mingyu and Seungcheol before standing up and brushing the sand off his shorts. You could hardly pull your eyes away from him as he does so.

He starts trotting away as you face back toward the ocean with a sigh, relinquishing the moments you get to have to gather up your thoughts.

"Hey, Y/N?"

You pick your eyes back up to Joshua marching back towards you. He stops in front of you, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

"You look beautiful today, by the way." Then he gives shoots you a wink before turning back around. "Just wanted you to know."

The kiss you leave to his cheek later on was really worth the risk.

TWO. "you learn my secrets and you figure out why i'm guarded / you say we'll never make my parents' mistakes..."

A picture frame of a four-year-old Joshua is staring back at you. He still has that same silly grin on his face, the one that has his own eyes smiling as well and makes your heart feel lighter every time you look at it. You reach out to touch the frame, tracing the outline of his little face with your fingertip.

Sometimes, you wish you could experience what he was like at this time𑁋to grow up with him, to know what exactly led him to meeting you. But then again, he's already here with you now, and maybe that's all that matters.

"All ready for bed?" Joshua's voice popping in makes you swiftly place back the picture frame back on his desk. You turn around to see him leaning against the doorway with a soft smile playing on his lips, clad with a simple white t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants.

"Mhm," You hum out in response as you settle back under the covers of his bed.

It isn't the first night you've spent with him at his place, but you seem to seek the feeling of his comfort more often than sleeping in your own bed. Jeonghan has been kind of nagging you the two of you to move in together at this point, but that's a leap you're a bit hesitant to jump right now. But the drawer of your own clothes in his wardrobe is a bit of an argument that's hard to defend.

Joshua crawls his way into the spot right next to you, slipping under the duvet and wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you more into his embrace. You feel his breath meet the nape of your neck, warm and soothing against your skin, and your eyes flutter to the feeling.

You shift your position so that you're facing him. His eyes are already closed, lips pursed up slightly, and even then he still looks absolutely stunning. But you know he isn't asleep. Not yet, at least.

"My parents had uh... another argument today," You confess lowly, hesitantly.

Joshua's eyes open up slightly, adjusting his head so he can look at you better. A faint crease of concern appears between his brows, the arm around you tightening imperceptibly.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

You bite at your bottom lip anxiously. There are times you feel as if the only thing that could get you talking is always something revolving your parents, and you wonder if Joshua ever gets tired hearing about all of it. The thought courses insecurity to crawl in your veins, tightening your throat.

But Joshua's patient gaze towards you cuts through the uncertainty bubbling in your chest.

"Just same old, same old, you know?" You attempt to explain. "It just feels like they can't see eye-to-eye anymore. There's like... I don't know... nothing left between them, I guess. And it scares me that... it'll happen to us."

The last sentence suspends thickly into the air. Even then, you know it's more than the truth𑁋you've grown up witnessing and overhearing arguments from your parents that laid down this pessimistic view on the world around you.

You could feel your heart racing from all the anticipation. There's a wave of emotions that washes over Joshua's face, then he takes a deep breath and squeezes you tighter in his hold.

"Hey," he mutters. "Look at me."

You hesitantly meet his eyes.

"We're not like them, okay?" he assures you simply, bringing his hand up to cup your face oh-so gently in his hold. "We may argue sometimes. But the difference is, we communicate. We listen to each other. And we may not have all the answers to everything, but we'll figure it out together, alright?"

You swear you can feel the way he's holding your face also on your heart, like he's protecting you in a way from any doubts that might creep in. A small sigh escapes you, the tension leaving your shoulders as his words wrap around you comfortingly. The faintest, appreciative curve appears to your lips as you feel Joshua's thumb brush against your cheek.

He dreamily smiles at you as well, despite his face being half-buried in the pillow. And the thought of being able to wake up to this sight every single day suddenly feels a lot less like a leap and a whole lot more like a promise.

Somehow, the gap between the two of you disappears as your lips meets his. He kisses you so tenderly, mouth moving against yours with a delicate urgency, and the tiny sound that leaves you brings that smirk you could feel forming on his face.

You feel almost dizzy when you pull away, nothing but a shy look gracing over your features.

"Feeling better?" Joshua asks softly, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face.

You could only gaze at him, wondering to yourself how he's even in real, how someone like him could exist with his sleepy smile, messy hair, and perfect features carved by the angels above, yet cherish you so dearly.

"Can you..." Your eyes flicker from eyes to his lips. "Can you... keep kissing me?"

It feels really silly to ask that, however Joshua just chuckles, the sound rumbling from deep within his chest as he peers at you with nothing but adoration.

"Of course," he replies, leaning back in. "Whatever you want."

THREE. "braced myself for the goodbye, 'cause that's all I've ever known / then you took me by surprise / you said, 'I'll never leave you alone...'"

The tears streaming down your face burns through the concrete below like acid.

"Y/N, wait𑁋"

"I told you that I-I can't do this right now."

The leaves crunching at your feet echo in your ears as you walk away from Joshua, each step feeling heavier than the last. It's around two in the morning or something, and you can't remember the last time you felt this lost and broken ever since your parents' separation. It's like the ground beneath you has crumbled away, leaving you suspended in midair, grasping for something𑁋just anything𑁋to hold onto.

You've been here before, standing at the edge of this cliff of vulnerability. It's easier to leave before you get left, easier to build walls than to let someone in only to watch them walk away.

But you've come to understand that Joshua isn't one to give up easily. He catches up to you quickly, his hand gently grasping your arm to stop you in your tracks. You try to shrug him off, but his grip only tightens slightly as he turns you around to face him.

"Talk to me," he pleads insistently, and the subtle tremble to his voice has your chest clenching. "If you're just going to keep pushing me away, then𑁋"

"Then leave." The words leave you before you can stop them, fueled by the ache in your chest and the fear in your heart. "You don't have to stay with me when all I-I do is push you away. Don't you think you deserve someone better?"

Joshua's grip on your arm loosens at your words, but it doesn't fall. His eyes scan over your tear-stained face, the quiver to your lips, and all of it has you bracing yourself for the inevitable, final blow𑁋for him to turn and walk away like so many others before him.

But instead, he just steps closer to you.

"This isn't about me staying because I have to, Y/N," he explains. "It's about me wanting to stay because I love you. I knew what I was getting into the second I realised I was falling for you. So no, I'm not going to leave you. And I'll never leave you alone because I know you're worth fighting for."

Your breath catches in your throat, his words piercing through you like a bullet straight through the heart. Even Joshua appears out of breath himself, as if he's poured his own heart out to you in those few simple sentences. The silence stretches between the two of you.

With a quiet sigh and a faint smile, he lets the tension simmer down by trailing his eyes over you.

"When I look at you, I think... I think I fall in love with you all over again like the first time I saw you," Joshua admits shyly, followed by a sheepish chuckle to himself. "It's cheesy, I know. But I can't help it. It's hard not to look at you."

You feel the heat crawling up your face as you blink away your tears clumsily, peering up at him inquisitively. "Really?"

This just draws another laugh from him. Joshua steps closer to you, trailing a hand to cup your face and the other to slide to your back to shorten the gap between the two of you even more. He places a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment before he pulls back slightly to meet your gaze.

"Really," he confirms, voice gentle yet firm. "I meant every word I said, darling."

This brings a genuine smile to your face as if it was the first one that night. You instinctively lean more into Joshua's touch, letting your eyes close for a moment to the simple feeling of him holding you.

"I'm sorry," You mumble, voice barely above a whisper. "for pushing you away like that. It's just... I'm scared."

Joshua takes one of your hands into his own to bring up to his lips, pressing a reassuring kiss to your knuckles.

"It's okay," he assures you. "We can be scared together."

FOUR. "do you believe it? / we're gonna make it now / and i can see it / i can see it now."

A pair of arms snake around your waist from behind, the relaxing melody of a piano floating through the air of the kitchen. You take in a deep breath, leaning back into Joshua's embrace as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

"Smells amazing, honey," Joshua murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

You smile contentedly, feeling the peace of the moment wash over the two of you. The enticing smells of the pasta you were cooking waft around the kitchen, mingling with the scent of fresh herbs, garlic, and Joshua's presence right behind you.

"It should be ready soon," You say, clutching the wooden spoon in your hands to give the sauce a final stir.

Joshua's eyes arms tighten around you, pulling you even closer as he sways gently to the music. You hear the sounds of his hums hit your ears as you turn to the heat off to the stove. And as you attempt to pull away from him to grab for some plates, Joshua's grip on your waist hardly budges.

You groan exaggeratedly. "Shua, I need to𑁋"

"Marry me."

You freeze immediately, and you swear time halted right at that moment. Turning around in his hold, you're met with the sight of Joshua's eyes on you. You try to pinpoint any doubt in them, any sign that this is some sort of joke, but his gaze remains unwavering, dark eyes serious yet painted with a shine of hope that tugs right at the strings of your heart and the walls of your hesitation.

There's always that fear gnawing at in the back of your mind. But beneath it all, a warmth spreads through your chest, a certainty that feels as natural as breathing.

And perhaps, you see nothing but forever in him.

You can see it in the way his eyes soften, in the way his hand trembles anxiously against your waist, in the way his lips part ever so slightly as he waits for your response. You can see it all in him. You've made it.

You kiss him just seconds later. It's a question your heart has already answered long before the words left Joshua's lips. You lean more into his touch, feeling your heart overflow past the brink of joy, and the feelings all melt together into the singular realisation that he's the best thing that's ever been yours.

When the two of you finally break away, a single word escapes your lips, "Yes."

another note: sorry this ending was slightly rushed T-T

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[strayrockette]

My Sunshine Girl: The Celebration

Next Chapter

Note: I’m finally giving in and writing this Benny fic my brain won’t stop rehashing. Enjoy 😊

Super Note: Listen, guys, gals, peeps...I really really really tried to keep this short but it ended up a lot longer than I intended. I even split it into two separate parts and it's STILL SOOO LONG IM SORRY! Also please excuse incorrect grammar. I tried to edit as much as I could but I'm sure I still missed something. My Masterlist

Summary: The birthday girl doesn’t want the night to end and a handsome stranger gives her an invitation.

Inspired by: (Today I Met) The Boy I’m Gonna Marry by Darlene Love, He’s Mine by the Platters, and @storiesfromafan.

---

Harold’s Diner was one of many to be open late at night. Where the others were dim and had few occupants, Harold’s Diner was packed with more than usual.

Half were regulars all grouped together on the far left. They held familiarity as they conversed and joked around. Laughter and chatter were loud and hard to escape in the mom-and-pop diner.

You fluttered from table to table, smiling wide, excitement and happiness oozing from your body. It had been a pleasant surprise to walk into your uncle's diner and find a couple of friends and family waiting for you.

Your best friend Nat had organized a small get-together for your birthday. Your Uncle Harold had allowed her to use his diner for the event, "it'll be good for business and it'll make her happy" He had shrugged his shoulders as if saying yes was the only answer. With his answer, Nat had taken it upon herself to decorate the diner in anticipation of the night.

While the diner was technically open to other customers, you didn't mind one bit. The small community you lived in was tight-knit and most customers were from nearby. Few and far between were out-of-towners who were just making a pitstop. But that didn't disturb you one bit.

Customers came and went as the night went on. Many wished you a happy birthday as you and your friends idled joyfully in the corner of the diner. You beamed with each happy birthday.

By the time your friends were ready to leave and retire for the night you pouted, the night was only beginning and you were too excited to see what the cool air and starry sky had to offer.

You’d tried to convince Nat to stay out later but her boyfriend wouldn’t budge. She grasped your shoulders softly, “We can hang out some other time hun, Mikey doesn’t like it when I stay out late”

You’d rolled your eyes and mumbled a passive goodnight. Waving her off with a small and placid smile. Uncle Harold had practically shooed you out of the diner so he could clean in peace. He’d ushered out a goodnight and a see you at home, before closing the diner doors to prevent another customer from coming in.

All too suddenly you were left alone staring up at the sky and wondering exactly what you would do next. Your feet ached in the black wedges Nat had bought you. And you really wished you could sit down somewhere.

You walked along the sidewalk, taking in the dimly lit path, you wondered if you should have taken Nat's offer to drop you off at home. But you didn't like Mikey, so you politely declined.

You continued to wander, your feet aching as you tried to think of where else you could go. Who else could you visit before retiring to your cold empty bed. Lost in thought you barely noticed soft hands moving to grasp your wrists “Y/N?”

You blinked, your eyes focusing on the person in front of you. Short hair and wide eyes, “Kathy?”

A smile broke out, “Oh my gosh! How are you?”

Kathy’s brown eyes twinkled, “Been better. Since when were you back?”

“About a month ago” you responded happily. “I didn’t think I’d run into you”

She fixed her purse over her shoulder, “Talk about perfect timing. Do you remember Alice? Well, she asked me to come to spot her at this bar, but I don’t want to go in alone.”

Her question was unsaid but you were too excited to keep the night going to even think about saying no. You hooked an arm around hers and practically dragged her into the bar. You weren’t prepared for what kind of club you were walking into. But if you learned anything from living in New York City for the last 4 years, it was always best to walk as if you belonged and barrel through bodies who got in your way.

You did just that, Kathy squeezing herself closer to you, your skirt rode up with each stride, the lime green plaid skirt catching more than a few eyes. But you were always prepared for a night of fun, dolling yourself up in the cutest skirts or dresses.

Your legs were covered in nude stockings a pair of dark shorts over ‘em, like hell I’d make it easier for scummy eyes and hands to slip into my “honey pot” the thought almost made you sneer outwardly but you attempted to keep the joyful smile on your face.

You pushed through, shouldering men bigger than you, slapping hands that tried to grab your waist and smiling sweetly when they insisted, “Not for you sweetheart”

Your confidence and boldness had men parting a path for you as you tugged Kathy behind you. Your eyes searching for a familiar blonde, green eyed girl you used to tease for the gap in her teeth.

Alice’s head popped up over the crowd, her hands waving enthusiastically in the air as she caught sight of your dark brown hair and smiling face, “Y/N??OH MY GOD YOU’RE BACK”

She screeched over the loud music and voices, completely comfortable in the bar filled with greasy old and young men alike.

You rushed through the last stretch of the crowd, breaking through to rush around her table, gathering Alice into a hug you giggled and swayed together, “I missed you, you chatterbox”

You teased her as you pulled away. Your eyes roamed her face. “Well, someone’s changed”

Her green eyes looked you over a smirk on her lips, “I could say the same for you, little miss, barreling through those men like you own the place,” she leaned forward whispering in your ear, “Good job”

You laughed, patting her shoulder you pulled a seat out and sat down. Kathy was already seated, her fingers digging into the purse she clutched to her chest. Pulling money from the bottom of her purse she slid it over to Alice, “Here take it”

Alice grinned, “Awe, thanks hun, you’re the best”

Kathy looked around her gaze warily taking in the rowdy men, their greasy appearance, and tattooed bodies, “Uh huh, I gotta go”

Alice frowned, “Awe come on, you just got here and Y/N here, the fun’s just got started”

Kathy shook her head, her discomfort growing, “No way, we can get together another day”

She stressed over the word day. You bumped her shoulder, “Oh come on Pumpkin, I could use a dance with you”

She turned her head to you, her discomfort and excitement warring with each other, “No can do sweets, I hate it here”

Alice snorted, “You hate anywhere that isn’t your home, anyways” She motions to the other end of the table, “over here is cockroach”

You followed, Alice’s gesture, noticing his rough appearance-much like many of the men here, but his eyes were gentle and warm, he’s a harmless bug you thought.

You gave him a nod of acknowledgment and a hello around the same time Kathy paused her jittery movements to say “What?”

She gave him a confused and disbelieving look. He nodded, seemingly used to the confused and odd looks, “They call me cockroach,“ he repeated.

Kathy scoffed her eyes once again looking around cautiously, “And why they call you a stupid name like that?” She asked.

You leaned forward, your elbows resting on the table, “Is it cuz cockroaches are indestructible?”

You were curious about his name and what meaning it had to him. Based on the group of men he hung with you assumed there would be plenty of weird names to learn. He grinned at you, “cuz I like to eat bugs, you know, like a gag but also cuz I just like to eat em”

You laughed amused by his statement. Kathy looked disgusted and she voiced as much, “That’s disgusting. Look, I gotta go, you comin’ with me?”

She turned to you at the end of her sentence. Her eyes pleading with you to leave the bar with her. You pouted, “Sorry, pumpkin, I think I’m gonna stick around a lil longer”

Alice sighed, “Ay, they’re not that bad,” she reached across the table, patted Kathy's hand, and smiled reassuringly, “Just sit here for a bit, okay?”

Kathy huffed as Alice slipped from her seat to go to the bar, her eyes glancing around nervously. You leaned in, whispering in her ear, “It’s best to pretend you belong than to act like you don’t, pumpkin.”

She turned once more her jitteriness increasing the longer she stayed, “And why in the hell would I do that?”

You sighed and shook your head, “to lessen the stares you’re gettin, duh”

She rolled her eyes, “they’d stare no matter what.” She concluded irately.

Alice slips back into her seat, handing you and Kathy a pop to drink.

Before you could respond to reassure Kathy, two men walked up to your table, one is shorter than the other, neither are bad looking but the grease on their skin and the scent of cigarette smoke hanging around them makes them undesirable to most women. At least, the women living the prim and proper lifestyle.

Kathy avoids making eye contact but you do it freely, unbothered and curious at what they’ve got to say.

The shorter one of the two leans forward his dark eyes roaming from Kathy to you, “Hey there.” His voice is raspy and not too deep nor high. It’s rather pleasant, you think passively. “Either of you wanna come live with me?”

It’s almost a tease and a genuine question, the other jumps in eagerly, he’s tall and bare-chested, and he’s wearing a jean vest that all the men in this bar are wearing, “What about me? Wanna go out with me” his eyes look to you, they’re a soft brown and you can tell he’s a sweetheart deep down. But with all the men gathered at this bar, kindness, and sweetness are buried beneath their manly-esque appearance.

Kathy utters, “No, thank you” with a shake of her head and her eyes downcast. But you stare up at them and simply say, “No”

You’re leaning back in your chair, hands calmly placed over your thigh, your legs crossed. You have no worries or cares and you’re not at all intimidated by these men. Kathy goes on to make excuses for why she said no. She looks around the table “Oh, I have a date”

The tall one hums, “A date huh?” He nods his head at you, “What about you?”

You tease them, "If I did have a date, it isn't either of you."

The tall one laughs hollering over his shoulder, "We've got a sassy one over here."

The short on places a hand on his heart, "I'm hurt sunshine"

You laugh enjoying the light banter and tease.

Kathy nudges you, her eyes wide and warning. You stick your tongue out a silent message for her to loosen up.

She pinches your side and then says unconvincingly, “Well, I’ve got a date. 12 o’clock," She nods to herself, " I-I have to get home. She's coming with me.”

Kathy insists on whisking you away from here, she's seen the looks these men give you and bless your heart. Kathy isn't sure if you're unaware or unbothered, she refuses to leave you behind. You were the one good girlfriend she had ever had, even if you had disappeared for 4 years.

The shorter one lifts his cigarette to his mouth and inhales, “You hear that cockroach”

He points his cigarette in Kathy’s direction, “Cinderella’s got a date" He points to you, "And Sunshine waitin' for her man”

Kathy sinks into her seat and you wonder if she would bolt for the door. But with the two men blocking their path, she remains rooted in her seat.

The tall one echos, “Yeah, Cinderelli’s got a date, and Sunshine’s waitin' for her man to find her”

Cockroach chuckles and shakes his head. The two men slip away from the table, the shorter one going on to say, “Cinderella’s gonna turn into a pumpkin or somethin’”

Another man hollers, "Wonder who the lucky man is, Sunshine"

You giggle to yourself, the men reminded you of another group you'd known in New York. It wasn't too bad once you found your bearings amongst them.

You glanced at Kathy, seeing her eying someone with suspicious eyes.

You followed her gaze, seeing an older man calmly sitting with his back to the wall and his legs propped up on a chair. He was eyeing you gals with soft eyes, he gave you two a nod as another man leaned down to whisper in his ear.

Your eyes lingered for a few moments trying to grasp what exactly was being said, with no luck you looked over to the group of men, two of them being the ones who had attempted to pick you and Kathy up, stood near the Jukebox. They lazed around, heads bent speaking to each other, one of them glanced up to look over at the table you sat in.

Kathy shook her head, her voice wavering, “Look at them whisperin and plannin’ somethin, oh I gotta go”

Kathy had reached for your hand, already pulling you up from the seat. Your feet nearly stumbling as you righted yourself to walk behind her. You tugged lightly, turning her around, “If you’re gonna drag me around like ole times, Pumpkin, give me a sec to get my bearings.”

She sighed and nodded. Her right hand clutching her purse tighter as she stood and waited.

You fixed your skirt and bent down to grab your purse that hung loosely over your chair, swinging it over your shoulder, you stood and got ready to leave.

You gave the bar one last sweep with your eyes, stopping when you saw him. Blonde windswept hair and baby blue eyes. Toned arms littered with tattoos, and grease sticking to his skin, you assumed it was motor oil and some other form of grease from tinkering away at bikes.

Your head tilted and a growing feeling of intrigue and curiosity overwhelmed you. Forgetting about Kathy, you plopped onto the chair and clumsily tapped Alice’s arm to get her attention. Your bag knocked against the table nearly falling off your shoulder and hitting the ground but you tucked it on your lap and leaned closer to Alice, “Hey Alice, who is that looker over by the pool table”

Alice looked to where your eyes hovered, catching on to whom you were asking about, “No, girl just no”

You turned, giving her a frown, “What?”

“Thats Benny, you don’t want to go there” She insisted.

Kathy slid into the seat next to you, her shoulder brushing yours, “Don’t tell me you’re eyeing one of these greasy fuckers”

You jabbed her with your elbow, “Be nice,”

Passing her a pleading look. Kathy sighed and leaned onto the table, her escape plan on hold.

You pleaded with Alice to tell you more, “Come on, spill! You never hold back, what’s the deal?”

Alice gave you an unimpressed look and shook her head.

"Just fill my curiosity meter, sweets," You shook her arm as if it would help make her spill.

Alice snorted, “You’re never just curious, Sunny”

Kathy hummed, “Agreed. You rarely give anyone the time of day, why are you askin' about this one”

That's a story that would be too long to spill, you sigh, "I'll tell yah later"

“Look, no one wants to date Benny, he’s trouble. Every time he gets on his bike he gets into an accident” she looked around conspiratorially, “and he’s got a temper on him, he won’t hurt no lady but put a man in front of him and he’ll swing any which way he pleases”

She tried to stress his flaws but you couldn’t quite let go of the curiosity in you. You didn’t have his name before, you’d wondered where he slipped off to after your uncle's diner. He’d shown up out of the blue in the early afternoon. His hair freshly ruffled from the wind, a cigarette hanging from his lips, his long fingers fixing his jacket, and his long jean-clad legs striving through the diner doors with grace and confidence. For a rebel against society's norms, he was handsome. Too handsome. You couldn’t believe he didn’t have a line of girls wanting to get with him.

But then again, most of them probably steered clear to avoid angering their families. Lucky for you, you had no such concerns.

You remembered how your uncle was about to throw him out of your diner, refusing to serve “vandal scum” in his family friendly diner. But you had swooped in, bouncing over before any hands could fly and faces bruised. You’d smiled blithely, gently reminding your uncle it was your birthday and you had no need or want for a fight to break out and break the mood that had settled into the diner’s atmosphere.

People were coming in and out, most were family and friends visiting to say hi and spend time with you for your birthday. Some were customers but even they stopped for a few to talk to you. Reminiscing over younger you who had greeted each of them one time or another at the diner.

You’d turned to the handsome stranger, your hair swirling around you in waves, a playful finger wagging in his direction, “This is a family friendly diner, handsome, I’m afraid you can’t smoke in here”

You had expected him to argue but he merely put out his cigarette, handing it to your outstretched palm. You discarded it in the trash behind the hostess stand and grabbed a menu for him. You glanced to your uncle and then to the stranger, “You can eat here as long as you behave. and you will, right?” You asked sweetly.

The handsome stranger merely nodded, giving you a half smile. His blue eyes staring intently into your own dark brown that glittered with a hint of gold and red in the setting sun that glowed through the windows.

You had waved your hands in the air, “See didi, there’s no trouble here. Just a handsome man wanting to eat your delicious food”

You had defused the situation so quickly it nearly gave everyone a whiplash but that was something everyone had missed. Your ability to lighten an atmosphere.

After getting the stranger seated you went back to your previous activities nearly forgetting the blue eyes that lingered on you throughout his stay.

You had almost forgotten, until now.

Alice shook her head, grasping your hand, “Don’t say I didn’t warn yah”

She glanced at Kathy, “If you wanna leave that bad, let’s get you to a phone to call for a ride mkay”

Kathy sighed in relief, “thank you, you’re the best”

They left you to your thoughts. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, thinking over what Alice said and remembering the brief meeting from earlier in the day. You contemplated going up to him, just to ask if had enjoyed the food. He had wiped his plate clean so you know he did. But perhaps you could also ask him why your uncle couldn’t stand the sight of him. Maybe that’s too personal you thought idly.

You would have sunk deeper and deeper into your thoughts if it weren’t for a figure slipping into a chair next to you. His arms hugging the back of the chair, his body leaning over to stare at you.

You almost choked on air realizing who was seated next to you. His eyes peered into yours, soft and gentle. His beard was a golden blonde like his hair, it framed his face nicely, his cheekbones and jaw were sculpted to perfection and you wondered if you ever laid eyes on someone who was casually perfect. “Hey”

Your eyes traced his face, “Hello handsome, I didn't think I'd see yah again"

He nodded giving you a half smile, so similar to the one you had received when you had helped him get a table at your uncles diner, “I’m Benny”

You noticed his voice was a deep honeyed rasp. Somehow smooth and bumpy. You wanted to listen to him talk all night, but based on your previous and current encounters; you didn’t think he’d do much talking.

You tilted your head to the side humming in reply, “I’m Y/N”

Silence fell, a bubbly giddy feeling in your chest almost had you giggling nervously. You’d never had a man stare at you so intensely without a crude or rude comment hanging from their lips. But Benny simply watched. His eyes trailing over your face, mapping out the curve of your nose and lips, the laugh lines in your face, the dimples resting at the top of your cheeks and the way your honey brown eyes watched him in return.

He wanted to reach out to touch your cheek wondering if they felt as warm as the redness in them implied.

You swallowed the giggle by biting your bottom lip, you seemed to be doing that a lot tonight. You hoped you wouldn’t bruise it with how much you had repeated this action. “You gonna stare at me all night, Benny”

You whispered his name and it felt scandalous. As if it was the most intimate pet name you had ever come up with prior to knowing his true name.

He smiled, rubbing a hand over his chin then through his hair, he adjusted his position, “Yeah, I guess”

He made no other comment. Not once bothering to fill the growing silence between you. Perhaps there wasn’t much to be said because his eyes said it all. He was interested, you gathered.

His eyes inviting, patiently waiting on you to confirm…something. You weren’t sure.

And as much as you wanted to do or say anything you simply went with, “I-Uh-I’m with my girls”

You stuttered, what a terrible flirt. You wanted to slam your head into the table, to sink into the floor and disappear. That wasn’t what you wanted to say but it was the only thing you could think of.

“Oh” he looked down at his arms then slowly looked back up to you, “okay”

His eyes were softer and a little sad. More silence. Your heart was beating so fast with adrenaline. You swore you would never forgive yourself for being an idiot. You hoped he would say something, ask you anything. Maybe give you something other than his contemplative silence. But no, he only lifted his hands up, “You’re with your girls”

He had shrugged as he said it, gracefully getting up to leave you alone. You could feel his eyes leaving you and he left you to a different kind of silence. You couldn’t believe how idiotic you had been. As if the invitation wasn’t clear enough you had shut him down. Leave it to you to blow off the only man who had ever made you feel anything other than disgust under their gaze.

Kathy slid into the chair to your right, her mouth parting ready to ask you if you would be leaving with her, but another figure slipped into a seat at the other side of the table.

You recognized him from earlier, the man who watched you and Kathy from his corner of the bar. He gave you girls a quirk of his lip and a nod, “What are your names, girls”

Kathy leaned back and sighed, “What is this? A rotary buffet?”

You could tell she was getting tired of all the men who were coming up to you gals. “I’m Kathy, this is Y/N”

The man nodded once more, “I’m uh Johnny, I’m the president of this club.”

You hummed, “Nice to meet yah”

Kathy rolled her eyes but gave him a nod of acknowledgement. He continued to speak, “Just want the two of yous to know that..you don’t have to worry”

Your brow raised surprised by his statement but knowing where he was going.

“Worry about what?” Kathy questioned with rising suspicion.

Johnny shook his head, “Nothin, that’s all. The guys just wanna have some fun…”

He nodded his eyes trailing to the group of men by the Jukebox, “I won’t let nothin happen to yah”

His grey eyes scanned the two of you.

Kathy quirked a challenging eye brow, “Oh yeah? And what’s gonna happen to us?”

You placed a hand on her arm, trying to calm her growing agitation, “Nothin” Johnny responded.

This didn’t appease Kathy at all, she rolled her eyes and sarcastically laughed, “haha, thanks for that, we gots to go now. Nice to meet yah. Adios. Bye”

You gripped your bag over your shoulder allowing her to drag you out of the bar. When you noticed the men leering and getting closer to her, you tugged her back and took the lead, shoving them aside with strength that once again surprised them. You got out relatively untouched. But you knew that there would be some grease stains on your skirt and stockings. Kathy didn’t seem too happy about the prints on her ass though.

You would have laughed if it weren’t for the enraged look on her face. “What animals”

She hissed. Trying to swipe away the grease but the damage was done.

“Alright, sunny, I called a cab and it should be here any minute. You gonna hop in?”

You sighed and hummed, after blowing off the Benny guy you wanted nothin but to go home and wallow in your failure.

Her lips smirked, “Gonna wallow in self pity for rejectin’ that biker guy?”

Her comment released a wave of groans from your lips, “My gosh Kathy! I blew it!”

You hooked your right arm though her left and followed her across the street, “I was THIS close” you lifted your thumb and pointer finger and squeezed them together, “to maybe going on a date or somethin’”

She laughed, “Oh honey, you’ve never even bothered to flirt nor talk to a man that wasn’t family or close friends. Of course you’d blow it”

Her tease left you pouting, throwing your head back you groaned and stomped your feet playfully, “If I had a second chance I think I could get it right”

Your eyes traced the Big Dipper, wishing for another chance. But for what? You didn’t even think you had it in you. Sure you could be confident and happy. Bulldozing your way through life. Making others smile and laugh. Getting others to feel comfortable and welcoming.

But flirting? Dating? Talking to an insanely handsome man?

An impossible task you really wanted to try.

A few minutes went by before Kathy started to nudge your side. You turned your head to stare at her, one brow raised in question. Her eyes flitted across the street and you followed.

He was walking across the street, cigarette on his lips and a lighter hovering in front of him as he lit it. His hand shoved the lighter back into his pocket and he nonchalantly walked up to his sleek black bike. Swinging his long legs over the bike, he jumped to start it, his bike roaring to life.

He sat down, fixed his jacket, and gave you a look over his shoulder. His eyes were obscured by shadows but with the slight incline of his head, you figured he was silently telling you to get on.

Kathy pushed you towards him, your feet stumbling over the pavement. You righted yourself and shot her a glare. She wiggled her fingers at you, shooing you in response.

You slowly took a step forward. Then two. Then three. And before you could turn around and run away you were standing next to him.

He plucked his cigarette from his lips and gave you a look. His eyes scanned you from head to toe. Amused to see you standing near him. Your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your skirt.

You were just about to ask him if you could get on. But rowdy men spilled out of the bar. Hooting loudly at seeing you next to Benny. Urging you to get on. Some commenting about your pretty skirt riding up your thigh. And some praising Benny for reining you in.

“Get on girl, it’s gonna be a fun ride” one of them laughed out.

Benny gave no indication he was listening to them. And he gave no indication of what he wanted you to do. You suppose he had already given you a hint earlier. You sighed and got on.

Once seated you tried to tug your skirt down the best you could. Silently thankful that you had prepared for the worst-case scenario. Your black shorts peeked from beneath your skirt. Your thighs resting comfortably over the bike.

More of the men hollered, “We’ve got a smart one”

“Ay suppose only Benny can take a peek underneath her skirt”

You blushed at the comment. You would like to deny it but saying anything would only fuel their provocative statements.

You turned to take a quick peek at Kathy, finding her getting on one of the men’s bikes. Having been herded by the others to take a ride. She had obviously given in to get them to leave her alone. She shot you a look. Her eyes flickered between you and Benny. She gave you a wry smile. She was excited for you. But not that pleased with her own situation. However, she’d pull through if you were experiencing it with her.

Your hands were loosely gripping onto Benny’s side, unsure of where to place them.

One of Benny’s hands reached around, grabbing yours to tightly wrap it around his midsection. You laced your fingers together and held on tightly. Trying to ignore the way your body pressed into his.

Someone shouted for him to take off and let him know that they would meet up with him on the expressway. With a jolt of the bike, you lurched forward. Your thighs squeezing Benny's legs and your grip getting tighter.

After that, you were a goner. The night sped past you in a blaze of light. The stars glittering and the town lights fading into the darkness. The wind swept your hair, tossing your neatly primed waves into a knotted mess.

You squealed, pressing your face into his back. Your eyes followed the passing scenery falling in love with the speed and the freedom that swelled up inside you.

You felt him chuckle at your reaction, you tore your gaze away and leaned at an angle to see the side of his face, you could tell he was smiling.

You were in trouble. All the warnings Alice had given you had been discarded. Your heart was a fool and your mind had been made. And you wondered where exactly this night would lead.

A/N: If you made it this far down, I applaud you 👏part 2 is already written and is currently being edited. If you want quick updates, comment for a tag! Thank you so much for sticking around to read this long fic!

[crispy-armpit]

✧ 𝒊 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒔𝒌𝒆𝒚 𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕 ✧

yandere secret agent x reader

‧₊˚ ⋅ ‧ 🍸₊˚ ⋆｡ 𖦹 °

⭒ 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: after taking on your friend's offer to head downtown to a hidden bar, you find yourself in the middle of a covert operation. thankfully Messiah is there to hide you from danger. or did he just push you right into it?

⭒ 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵: gn reader, yandere, suggestive position & situation, slight violence, reader held at gunpoint, mentions of a firearm and getting shot, reader pressed against male crotch, sadism(?), auditory hallucination (you hear voices), hair pulling, swearing

⭒ 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 1,153 words

⭒ a/n: it was my birthday last month and i had planned to post this by then but ofc i never learn my lesson and kept my drafts in tumblr (leading to it getting deleted) 😭!! so sorry for the wait everyone and happy late new years! :D hope u like the batman wannabe.. it goes from 0 to 100 rq because it's hilarious to me and i'm sleep deprived.. i can smell the hate comments already

will you venture down this path?

it was supposed to be another weekend night spent alone in your home; you, comfortably snuggling against your pillows while playing your favourite brain-rot game from night to morning.

but here you were— unfortunately not in your bed, and devastatingly not romancing your fictional game characters. your friend, Vern, had dragged convinced you to join him and try out some random jazz bar which recently opened.

he mentioned his band would be playing there... he's probably just trying to get more people to hype up his band.

the warm ambience of the bistro & bar, alongside the joyous laughter ringing all over the room, people bantering and simply enjoying each other's presence was enough to erase the thoughts of your usual weekend plans. it was the type of place where you couldn't bring up any negative emotions just because of how chill everyone and everything was. so that's one forgiveness point to your friend.

at some point, Vern had split off from you to meet up with the other Ares band members to go perform— leaving you to drink away your life at the bar.

you channeled your best resting bitch face to avoid any strangers trying to hit on you, which worked. you sat alone listening to the blue voice of the current performer, making small talk here and there with the bartender.

oh, the bartender—

you'd been eyeing him up all night.

he was the only other person at the bar. like all other bartenders, he was charismatic and attractive despite the two deep scars running down his left cheek.

maybe he noticed you looking at it, because he suddenly rasped out, "...animal attack" with a nonchalant smile. which is quite impressive, since your gaze never once lingered on the scars for too long. he must be observing me.

Logan (you read his name tag) was an exceptional conversationist. and he played the bartender role extremely well. he brought up topics like your ambitions, your dreams, and even your darkest passions effortlessly.

but his eyes never seemed to really focus on your figure when you talked.

it was always off to a specific direction in the distance. and when you turned to look at what he was looking at, there would only be the same wrinkly old man sitting on the sofa chair.

"can you see it?"

confused, you reply, "see what?"

do you see it? the eyes? his lack of mouth? with hair as white as his, and skin as dark as void, how can you not see me?

"what the hell are you sayi—" you grow pale when you turn back and see Logan had his back turned away from you the whole time, far from the counter.

who was talking to me?

and for the first time in 3 hours since you've arrived, the old man from the chair moves. he wanders aimlessly for a moment until setting his sights on the bar. multiple random people who were loitering in the room take notice of his sudden movement, and all briskly walk towards him.

you're petrified.

the world is spinning, people are blocking the old man's path from you. and you're so thankful for that because it gives you the time to be pulled on top of the bar counter and then underneath it by a pair of strong hands.

your consciousness recovers and you're met with Logan, body crouched down to your level. his shadowed face shows no semblance of the bright man you were talking to a while ago. now his own icy blue eyes pierced through yours, and the once attractive rasp of his voice is now chilling to the bone.

"Logan—"

"you better fucking shut up unless you want to die."

he pulls out a revolver and points it to your forehead.

profusely nodding your head in understanding, tears begin to prick your eyes; this is so fucking messed up, what is happening??

your brain tells you that this was just the alcohol getting to you, and maybe Logan has some kind of split personality and a murderer... that it's some kind of sick prank Vern is probably pulling on you. maybe my drink got spiked...

but your gut tells you that you are in great danger. alcohol has never made you experience that level of auditory hallucination... hell, you were probably being delusional right now— of course Logan's trying to kill you!!

you could hear the faint sounds of bodies thudding against other people as if they were thrown or pushed. but no screams, just grunts. the loudness of the approaching footsteps came to a halt in front of the counter.

you cover your cries as best as you can with your palms and with Logan's hidden weapon still pointed at you. you could so easily whack it away or dodge it. but you stop once you hear the most grotesque voice ever, the result of what sounded like flesh tearing apart and bones reconstructing.

"where... are... they.....?"

you are faced with two decisions:

scream for help and get shot in the head by Logan

scream for help and face whatever the fuck is out there

either way, you don't get to choose. because the stress of the situation is beginning to overwhelm you and soon your whimpers slip out a little. small enough to not be heard from in front of the counter, but big enough for whoever is on top of you— and that someone happened to be the psychopathic bartender.

you freeze.

but your strength alone is not enough to hold back against the veiny hands that grab the back of your hair and push you against the bulge of the man standing in front of you.

you push and thrash over his grasp, but your actions only lead to him digging the lower parts of your face further into his crotch. WHAT THE FUCK IS HE DOING??? IS HE TRYING TO SILENCE ME WITH HIS DICK?!

and it works...

you stay silent and limp, not because of fear. but because of the absurdity of this situation and the slow growth of whatever beast is hiding under those black waiter pants.

the heat of your muffled breath against his privates collects in your face, it's getting too much but you hold yourself together. your hands that were once pushing him off now lay on the top of his hardened thighs.

Logan shares a couple words with the old man before pointing him elsewhere. you catch a strange name falling off the old man's lips, Messiah. fuck, is this a cult? shortly afterwards, you hear the light sounds of evacuating feet. he's finally gone.

and with the speed of a middle-aged lady during black friday sales, you manage to push him off to the side and stand up across him, ready to give him a piece of your mind.

you were humiliated, violated, mentally tired and— and—

why the fuck is he blushing.

[brownetry]

Twisted Roots, Tangled Hearts

Pairing : han taesan x f! reader

Summary : a school trip turns into a nightmare when you and your sworn enemy, Taesan, fall into a hidden jungle pit and discover a horrifying underground secret. What starts as pranks and bickering turns into a fight for your lives and something neither of you expected to feel for each other. Warning : graphic violence, blood/injury, underground cult, threat of cannibalism, kidnapping, fire, near-death experiences, survival themes, mild horror elements, trauma response, panic, enemies-to-lovers dynamic, mutual pining, eventual fluff.

“Why do I feel like this is some sick joke from the universe?”

You stood at the edge of the jungle, arms crossed, lips curled in disgust as you glared at the laminated clipboard in your hand. It was crinkled from your aggressive grip, the printed list of student pairings glaring back at you like a bad omen.

Group 5: Y/N & Han Taesan

Your mortal enemy. The bane of your school existence. The boy who once filled your locker with crickets because you called his sneakers “budget clown shoes.” The boy who constantly flicked spit balls at you during assembly and blamed you for the science lab catching fire (okay, you did unplug his experiment, but he started it by stealing your notes).

And now—because the teachers decided a ‘team-building survival challenge’ in the jungle would be good bonding practice—you were paired with him.

Taesan swaggered up beside you, already smirking. “Aw, don’t look so sad, princess. I promise I’ll make this the best romantic getaway of your life.”

You rolled your eyes so hard they nearly got stuck. “If by romantic you mean getting lost in the wild and dying from mosquito bites, then yes. Dream vacation.”

“You’re just mad I look better in hiking boots than you.”

You glanced down at his boots, mud already caked on the sides, laces undone.

“They’re literally untied, Tarzan.”

He bent down, pretending to tie them while whispering, “Still cleaner than your attitude.”

The jungle air was thick and sticky as the two of you hiked deeper in. Other students branched off with their assigned missions—map-reading, trail-marking, bird calls—but you and Taesan got the classic jungle maze task: follow a marked trail, collect flags, make it back before dark.

You were barely five minutes in before the first bicker began.

“You’re holding the map upside down.”

“No, you’re upside down.”

“That doesn’t even make sense—”

“Neither does your face, but here we are.”

You snatched the compass from his hand. “If you weren’t so busy being annoying, maybe we wouldn’t be heading north when the flag is clearly to the east.”

“If you weren’t so bossy, maybe I’d actually listen to you once in a while.”

“Oh please. You listen to your ego more than your brain.”

Taesan grinned as he leaned close, voice low and teasing. “At least my ego doesn’t scream every time it sees a spider.”

Your entire body tensed. “That was ONE time—”

“A big spider.”

“You put it in my sleeping bag!”

“And your reaction was Oscar-worthy. I should’ve filmed it.”

You stomped ahead, mumbling, “Maybe if I bury your body in this jungle, no one will find it.”

Despite the chaos, you were making progress. You’d found three flags, avoided stepping on a snake, and Taesan—surprisingly—had caught you from tripping over a root once. Not that you’d ever thank him for that.

“Okay,” you said, brushing sweat off your forehead, “next flag should be near that big tree with the split trunk.”

“Lead the way, Dora.”

“Call me Dora again and I’ll shove this compass where the sun doesn’t shine.”

He smirked. “Kinky.”

You turned sharply to glare at him. “You are unhinged—”

And that’s when it happened.

Taesan took one step forward—and the ground gave way.

“TAESAN!”

There was a sharp crack beneath his boots, a hollow sound that wasn’t dirt or root. His eyes widened as the earth crumbled under him, and in a heartbeat, he was falling into darkness.

But not alone.

As his hand flailed for balance, it caught yours. His fingers locked tight around your wrist, and your scream joined his as you were yanked forward into the gaping black hole.

The world tilted.

Branches clawed at your skin, the wind roared past your ears, and then—

Darkness.

You woke up to the worst headache of your life.

Everything ached. Your arms, your back, your pride. You groaned and blinked against the dim, humid air. It smelled like wet stone and something... rotting.

You shifted, pushing yourself up slowly—until you heard a grunt nearby.

“Y/N?”

You turned and saw Taesan lying a few feet away, groaning and rubbing his head. His shirt was torn at the shoulder, his cheek scraped.

“I’m alive,” he mumbled, “but I think I swallowed a bug on the way down.”

“You pulled me down here, you idiot!”

“You should’ve let go.”

“You grabbed me first!”

“Because your scream was so loud I thought a jaguar got you!”

You reached over and smacked his arm.

“OW!”

“You deserved that.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t retaliate. Which was weird. Taesan always retaliated.

You both looked up—way up. The hole you fell through was at least twenty feet above. Jagged rock walls surrounded you, the sky barely visible. You were underground. Sort of.

Because there was something else down here.

The air was still, but not silent. Distant shuffling, muffled voices—voices that didn’t sound like any of your classmates. Or teachers.

You looked at Taesan. He looked back, suddenly serious.

“...Did you hear that?” he whispered.

You nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

He stood up, brushing dirt off his pants. “We need to find a way out. Now.”

You followed a narrow path that twisted through the underground space, lit faintly by torches—torches, as in manually lit, primitive, fire-on-stick torches—that lined the walls. The deeper you went, the colder it felt. The sounds grew louder. Laughter, but distorted. Wet squelches. Bones cracking.

Then you saw it.

A pile of bones. Human bones. Skulls, ribs, spines. All stacked like some kind of grotesque shrine.

Your stomach churned. Taesan turned pale.

“What... the hell is this place?” he breathed.

A new sound echoed—footsteps. Heavy. Close.

Taesan yanked you behind a rock slab, pressing a hand over your mouth as shadowy figures walked past.

They were barefoot. Covered in dirt, faces painted in something red. Their clothes were torn. And in their hands? Knives. Jagged. Rusty. One of them was carrying... a leg.

You gagged.

Cannibals.

You didn’t need to say it. Taesan’s wide-eyed expression told you he’d already figured it out.

You whispered, “We need a plan. Fast.”

Taesan glanced at the opposite tunnel. “If we can sneak past them and find where the tunnel narrows, maybe we can climb back up.”

You nodded, still trembling. “Lead the way, Tarzan.”

He gave a half-hearted smirk. “Stay close, Dora.”

The underground air pressed on your lungs like wet cloth—heavy, humid, and full of rot. You could feel the bones crunch beneath your sneakers as you stepped away from the cannibal shrine, and you had to fight every instinct not to scream.

Taesan crept ahead silently, back hunched, eyes sharp. His usual cocky smirk was gone—now he looked serious. Tense. Protective, even.

You hated that it made your heart do that stupid flutter.

“Shh,” he whispered, holding a finger to his lips. “They’re circling back.”

You both ducked behind a crumbling stone wall as the painted figures passed again—silent, slow, dragging sacks that dripped behind them. You didn’t want to think about what was inside.

Once they were gone, you breathed out. “Okay. Okay. What now?”

Taesan pointed to a tunnel barely lit by torchlight. “I saw a split down there. One side slopes up. Could be our way out.”

“And if it’s not?”

“Then we die a horrible death, obviously,” he deadpanned. “Keep up.”

The tunnel sloped up, just like he said, but it was steep and slick with moss. You slipped more than once, and Taesan—shockingly—reached out to steady you each time. The third time it happened, he muttered,

“You have a weird talent for almost dying.”

You scowled. “You’re the one who fell into a hole.”

“You came with me.”

“YOU PULLED ME!”

“That’s what a gentleman does.”

“Gentlemen don’t yank girls into death pits!”

He grinned. “I’m not a good gentleman.”

You shoved him. He shoved you back.

It was honestly impressive how you two could be surrounded by death, yet still find the time to bicker like 5-year-olds fighting over the last cookie.

After what felt like forever, the path opened into a dim cavern.

Your heart lifted—until you saw what was in it.

Cages. Dozens. Some held scraps of clothing. One still had a person inside—barely conscious, muttering, eyes unfocused.

You yanked Taesan behind a boulder.

“We’re not alone,” you whispered.

“No kidding,” he muttered. “This is like a horror game. Level ten. Insane mode.”

You turned to him, jaw clenched. “We have to help that person.”

“Are you out of your mind? If we make noise, those freaks will—”

“I’m not leaving someone behind!”

“God, you’re stubborn—”

“And you’re a coward.”

That hit him like a slap. His jaw tightened, and for a second you thought he’d yell.

But then he said, low and bitter, “You don’t know anything about me.”

You blinked, caught off guard.

Before you could reply, he slipped out from behind the rock, moving with quiet determination toward the cage.

You followed—because of course you did—and together, you reached the bars. The person inside—a girl around your age—flinched at the sight of you.

“It’s okay,” you whispered. “We’re gonna get you out.”

Taesan knelt and examined the lock. “Rusty. I might be able to snap it.”

“How?”

He pulled something from his backpack—a fork. A literal cafeteria fork.

You gawked. “Why the hell do you have that?!”

“Stole it at lunch. Planned to throw it at you during campfire.”

You stared. “You’re deranged.”

He smirked. “Resourceful.”

Somehow, with a twist and shove, the fork snapped the lock open. The girl collapsed into your arms, murmuring incoherently.

You heard it before you saw it.

A shout.

Footsteps.

Then—screaming.

Not yours.

The cannibals had seen the open cage. One of them screeched, pointing in your direction.

Taesan’s eyes locked on yours. “Run.”

You ran.

You didn’t look back. You couldn’t. The girl’s weight slowed you down, but Taesan kept pace, pulling vines aside, shouting directions.

“To the left! No, LEFT—your other left—!”

“Shut up, I know where I’m going!”

“You’re going straight into a wall—”

You did hit a wall. He yanked you away just in time.

You were breathless, panicked, and completely out of your depth—but he was still there. Grabbing your wrist. Shoving you forward. Not letting go.

The tunnel suddenly narrowed—a vertical shaft. Roots dangled from the ceiling.

You looked up. It was climbable.

“Up. Now,” he said, pushing the girl toward you.

“What about you?!”

“I’ll hold them off—”

“Don’t be stupid!”

“Get her out of here, Y/N!”

He turned to face the noise, fists clenched. He looked ready to fight a dozen armed cannibals with just a fork.

Which honestly... wouldn’t surprise you.

You hesitated for half a second—then grabbed his shirt and yanked him with you.

“I’m not letting you be a hero,” you snapped. “If we die, we die together.”

His eyes widened.

Then he smiled.

“Romantic.”

“Shut up and climb.”

You climbed. Slipping, gasping, blood running down your arm from a sharp root. The girl groaned weakly below you. Taesan grunted behind, boosting her when she faltered.

The tunnel narrowed more—but daylight was visible above.

So close.

You shoved the girl up first. She crawled over the edge with one last burst of strength.

Then it was you.

Your fingers clutched the rim. You pulled—screamed—nearly slipped—

But Taesan pushed from below, and you tumbled onto solid ground.

He followed, hands bleeding, panting hard.

You both collapsed in the dirt, barely conscious.

Above you, the sky was blue. Birds chirped.

Like nothing had happened.

You lay there for a while. Then he spoke.

“That was... insane.”

“No kidding.”

You turned your head. He looked over at you, eyes soft. Different.

“You could’ve left me,” he said quietly.

“I wanted to,” you replied. “But unfortunately, my conscience is annoying.”

He snorted. “Right. Your conscience.”

You nudged his arm with your foot. “You’re not as useless as I thought, Han Taesan.”

“And you’re not as evil as your face suggests.”

You rolled your eyes—but smiled.

It was weird. Being there, bloodied and bruised, with the one person who made your life hell... and not hating it.

“I still hate you, though,” you muttered.

“Yeah?” He turned his head, smirking again. “Then why’d you hold my hand when we were climbing?”

“I was trying to push you off.”

“Sure you were.”

You threw a leaf at him.

He just laughed.

The girl you rescued—her name was Kyungmi—had passed out shortly after you got her out. You and Taesan carried her through the edge of the jungle, limbs aching, barely holding it together.

But you didn’t stop.

Because you were alive.

Because you had to warn the others.

And maybe—just maybe—you weren’t as alone in this as you thought.

—

After an hour of dragging yourselves across vines and branches, you finally stumbled into a clearing—back to the original basecamp.

Shouting. A teacher saw you and ran forward.

“Y/N? Taesan?! What happened—”

“She needs help!” you gasped, motioning to Kyungmi.

The rest was a blur.

Hands pulling her from you. People crowding. Questions. Panic.

Then someone wrapped a blanket around your shoulders and Taesan’s—two separate ones, of course, though he still managed to bump his into yours like an annoying cat.

You were led to a tent for med checks, patched up, forced to drink water and lie down. You heard the teachers murmuring outside, something about “call the local authorities” and “dangerous tribes.”

It wasn’t until hours later, once Kyungmi was stable and the sun had set, that you found yourself sitting beside a campfire, a bowl of soup in your hand and dirt still on your legs.

Taesan plopped down beside you.

You didn’t speak for a long time.

He just sat there, poking his soup with the spoon.

Then finally, he said, “So.”

You glanced at him.

He looked serious.

“Back there,” he said. “When you didn’t leave me.”

You sighed. “We’re talking about that again?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Because I was sure you would.”

You turned toward him, eyebrows drawn. “Why would I do that?”

He gave a crooked smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Because I’m not... easy to like. I know that.”

Something about the way he said it—offhand, but heavy—made your chest tighten.

“You’re an idiot, yeah,” you muttered. “But I don’t think anyone deserves to die alone in a murder cave.”

He laughed. Just once. A breath.

“You ever wonder,” he said, staring into the fire, “if we’d be friends if we hadn’t hated each other first?”

You looked at him. Really looked.

The shadows from the flames danced across his face—those sharp features, the messy hair, the cut on his cheek still healing.

“I think,” you said slowly, “we started hating each other because we were scared we’d get along.”

That made him look at you.

Long. Searching.

He tilted his head, lips twitching. “You’re... not terrible when you’re not threatening me with compasses.”

You smirked. “And you’re tolerable when you’re not smuggling forks into survival camp.”

“You’ll never let that go, huh?”

“Never.”

He leaned back on his hands. “So... what now?”

“What do you mean?”

“We survived death cult cannibals. Kind of changes things.”

You looked at the jungle beyond the trees. The quiet. The cold.

Then back at him.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “But... thanks. For not leaving me, either.”

A silence settled between you. But this time, it was warm. Comfortable.

Like a truce.

Maybe even the start of something.

And then—

A bloodcurdling scream pierced the night.

Everyone jumped.

You dropped your soup.

Taesan was on his feet in seconds, eyes wide, scanning the darkness.

Another scream.

Closer this time.

The teachers ran toward it. The students screamed. Chaos exploded again.

Taesan grabbed your wrist. “Stay close.”

Your heart thundered. “Is it—?”

“I don’t know.”

But in your gut—you knew.

You ran with him toward the noise.

And what you saw made your blood run cold.

The body of one of your classmates—Minji—was lying just at the jungle’s edge. Unconscious. Breathing, but barely.

And standing over her was someone you recognized.

One of the painted figures from the hole.

He looked... different now. Out of place. Clothes stolen. Paint smudged. He was alone, wild-eyed, lips curled in a twisted grin.

Before anyone could react—he vanished back into the trees.

Gone.

Taesan cursed under his breath.

You stared at the spot he disappeared into, your fingers trembling.

“They followed us.”

That night, no one slept.

Security was called. Teachers held emergency meetings. Camp was being packed up to evacuate early in the morning.

But you couldn’t rest.

And neither could Taesan.

You found him sitting at the edge of camp, sharpening a stick with a rock. Just in case.

He didn’t look up when you sat beside him.

“They’re not just a myth,” you said. “They’re real. And they’re watching.”

He nodded. “And they’re smart.”

You looked at him. “I’m scared.”

He finally turned to you, meeting your eyes. “Me too.”

You hesitated—then leaned your head against his shoulder.

He stilled.

Then, slowly, leaned into you too.

For a moment, there was no bickering. No teasing.

Just two people who went through hell. Together.

—

“Y/N?” he said softly after a while.

“Yeah?”

“When we get back... what happens to us?”

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze.

And said the first honest thing you’d said to him since you met.

“I don’t want to go back to hating you.”

His eyes searched yours.

Then, like it was the most natural thing in the world—he leaned forward.

His lips brushed yours.

Soft. Uncertain. Barely there.

But real.

And then—

Gunshots. Screaming.

The camp was under attack.

You broke apart, adrenaline flooding your veins as figures surged from the trees.

Painted faces. Knives. Grins.

They had come back.

And this time—they weren’t alone.

You didn’t even have time to scream.

The trees exploded in movement—dozens of them, faces smeared in white and red paint, emerging from the shadows like phantoms. Screams ripped through camp. Someone knocked over a lantern. Flames licked at the fabric of the tents.

Chaos.

Panic.

And you and Taesan?

Running again.

Always running.

“TAESAN!” you yelled, yanking his sleeve as a figure lunged toward you. He twisted, grabbed your arm, and yanked you behind him. The stick he’d been sharpening earlier rammed straight into the attacker’s side—not deep enough to kill, but enough to knock him off-balance.

“Go, GO!” he barked, grabbing your wrist as he barrelled through the smoke. You didn’t argue. Didn’t hesitate. Just ran.

This time, you didn’t care where you were going—just away.

You didn’t know how long you ran, but eventually the screams faded. The forest swallowed you both whole again, dark and eerily silent.

You collapsed behind a boulder, gasping. Taesan dropped beside you, arm bleeding, face streaked with ash.

“Are... are they chasing us?” you managed to ask.

He shook his head. “I think... they stayed for the others. The easy targets.”

Your stomach twisted. “We have to go back. What if—”

“We can’t,” he snapped, more from fear than anger. “We’ll die.”

You bit your lip. Your eyes burned.

Taesan’s expression softened. “We’ll find help. There’s a ranger station marked on the original map, remember?”

You blinked. “That’s... like ten kilometers away.”

“Yeah,” he said, pulling himself to his feet and offering his hand to you. “Let’s get moving.”

You took it.

And didn’t let go.

You walked for hours.

Your limbs ached. Your legs were scratched and bruised. You were hungry, exhausted, and terrified.

But not alone.

Taesan talked to keep your spirits up—random, stupid things.

“Remember when you tried to glue my locker shut?”

“You broke into my dorm room to put frogs in my bed!”

“And you replaced my shampoo with mayonnaise—”

“It was funny—”

“It was traumatizing!”

It made you laugh. Somehow. Even with the world crashing down around you.

Somewhere in the middle of it, you realized, you didn’t hate him anymore.

Maybe you never really had.

Maybe you just didn’t know how to admit what you did feel.

By dawn, your feet were blistered, your throat dry, but you saw it—a wooden lookout tower in the distance, just barely visible through the trees.

You both stopped, staring.

“I can’t believe it,” you whispered.

“Me either,” he said, almost in awe.

Then, “Race you there.”

You gaped. “Are you serious?!”

Taesan just grinned and took off.

“Taesan, you absolute maniac—!”

You chased after him, laughing and crying all at once.

And when you reached the tower, panting, collapsed at his side, you knew—you’d never forget this moment. Not in a million years.

They found you two hours later.

A helicopter landed. Medics swarmed you. You were wrapped in blankets, given water, bombarded with questions.

They found the rest of the camp survivors. Some injured, but alive.

The authorities stormed the jungle with armed forces later that day—and found the underground tunnels. The cages. The horrors.

The cult was dismantled. The area was permanently restricted. News reporters tried to cover it, but the story was deemed too disturbing for public broadcast.

You were sent home a week later.

Taesan sat next to you the entire flight.

You didn’t talk much. Just held hands under the blanket, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Life went back to “normal.”

Classes. Tests. Cafeteria food.

But everything was different.

You were different.

And so was he.

You still bickered sometimes. You still teased each other. But there was something else now—an understanding. A closeness. A feeling that no one else in the world really got it except the two of you.

Taesan walked you home most days. He didn’t ask to. He just did.

One day, on the rooftop after school, you asked, “Why were you always messing with me before the trip?”

He looked at you, dead serious. “Because you were the only person who saw through my crap.”

You blinked. “That’s it?”

“And...” He hesitated. “Because I liked you. A lot. And I didn’t know how to say it.”

You stared at him.

Then kissed him.

Right there. Rooftop. Wind blowing. Sun setting.

You kissed him.

When you pulled away, he looked stunned.

And stupidly happy.

“You’re gonna regret that,” he said, voice hoarse.

You smiled. “I don’t think I will.”

© brownetry

[flowercrownsandherondales]

hiii can u write something where haymitch and reader get chosen for the games?

Hi! Thank you for the request! I'm not sure which games you wanted to see, but I hope I did it justice!

Harness Your Hopes

Even the strongest, cannot overcome the power of the Capitol… the male and female tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors….

I can still smell the alcohol that pooled through our living room carpet. 

I can still feel Haymitch’s shaking form in my arms, heaving breaths coming out in short gasps as I attempted to soothe his sobs. 

Glass cracking…hearts cracking…floor opening and throwing us under. 

Muffled noises as Peeta visited, begging my husband to save Katniss. Muffled voices as Katniss visited, begging Haymitch to save Peeta. 

I didn’t care to listen to either of them beg for their lives, as if my husband’s wasn’t as important as theirs. As if he wasn’t even a person, just a puppet to protect them. 

Anger. Raw, scalding anger radiating up my body. Part of my brain begging me to remember how much I cared for the two, the other part screaming for me to unleash the fury I held at the way they spoke to him, looked at him, like he was nothing. 

Just a washed up drunk, pathetically living in the past. 

They didn’t know him. They never bothered. Didn’t know how he called out to his family in his sleep, how he hadn’t touched a bottle before it was all ripped from him. They didn’t know how our marriage was forced upon him, something I grimaced at each time it popped into my mind. 

I love him. I loved him when we played as children, four years apart and clinging to him, I loved him when he was mean and hurt, tossing words and bottles at me when I tried to visit and help him though the pain he was in after his games. I loved him even more when I was reaped at 18, three months away from freedom. Haymitch freshly 22, taking less sips of liquor when he realized I was reaped due to my proximity to him, that it was his job to get me out. I was hopelessly, impossibly in love with him when he held me during nightmares when I did get out, when he jumped into the limelight to save me from prostitution, offering to marry me instead. 

I held onto him as tight as possible that night, and every other night that lead us closer to this day. Whispering my words of love, my final goodbyes. At first he refused to hear them, covering my mouth with his calloused hand and begging me to stop. Now he let me. Resigning himself to the truth.

We dressed that morning in silence, neither of us bothering to eat. Haymitch only had a sip of alcohol, wanting to stay sharp for our inevitable demise. 

We held hands the entire walk over, peacekeepers attempting to split us apart to stand on opposite sides of the stage. His grey eyes met mine, full of unspoken conversations, desperate fear and anger. He raised my hand that had been clasped in his, leaving a single kiss on my knuckles before parting. 

“As usual, ladies first.” Effie’s voice cut through, gloved hand fishing around an empty bowl. Two names to choose, just like the bowl with the boys. 

“And our female tribute… Katniss Everdeen.” The brunette at my side let out a choked gasp. I looked towards Haymitch, who seemed to take a breath of relief. 

He was going to volunteer for Peeta. That was the deal he’d made with him while my head fought to understand what had been announced by Snow. 

I’d be damned if I had to live this life without him. 

“I volunteer as tribute.” It came out before I had time to think about it, before Katniss could break out of her stupor to try and stop me. 

Effie just pursed her lips, eyes starting to glisten, not that she’d ever let a tear fall in a moment like this. 

She swallowed down her sob, Katniss stood mouth gaping, Peeta looked uncomfortable, and Haymitch… 

I refused to look at him. 

“And now for the boys…” Effie cleared her throat, hand twisting through the two slips, “Peeta Mellark.” 

I took a breath, closing my eyes as Haymitch stepped forward. 

“I volunteer as tribute.” His gruff voice, so often unheard by the district that had abandoned him to rot, rang clear through the square. 

I finally looked at my husband, his eyes filling with resignation. Or maybe it was peace, just as I felt, all of our anger and deviation at the situation slowly melting away.

We stepped forward, my hand shakily reaching for his, clasping them together again. 

“Our tributes for District 12, Y/N and Haymitch Abernathy.” 

I raised his hand as he had done to mine only minutes before, leaving the most tender, most heartfelt kiss upon his knuckles. 

I loved you, I love you, I will always love you.

I thought back to what I had written in the early hours of the morning, once Haymitch had finally fallen asleep. Whoever came to clean out our house once we were gone would find it on the table. A faded photograph of us, taken at the Capitol, the only true moment we'd let them have in public.

And on the back I had written:

I'm damned if I don't. I'm damned if I do

But what heaven it would be, to be damned here with you.

Our eyes met. 

Together. In sickness and in health. In life and in death. 

Always together. 

[leighsartworks216]

Migraine Pain

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Wrote this for me bc I have a migraine rn and I want Astarion to act as my personal cold pack. Beginning of Astarion's dialogue taken from the vid Neil did of an Astarion wake up call lol

Not proofread bc brain hurts

Warnings: migraine descriptions, pain, light angst if you squint, swearing, OOC Shadowheart

Word Count: 1,839

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

The two knocks at the door split your skull. Each one like an iron spike hammered into your temples. All you could do was hide deeper under the covers, hoping they would muffle the sound enough to stop hurting.

“Darling, get up,” Astarion called through the wood. Two more knocks accentuated his annoyance. He groaned when he didn’t hear any movement. “Get the fuck up!”

You wished you could tell him what was going on - really you did. But the slightest twitch from your tadpole was enough to have you wishing for death. Hells, you’d make a deal with Raphael with unbalanced terms just so it would go away! Instead, all you could do was wait it out. It would be a long wait indeed.

With another irritated sigh, you could hear the familiar scrape of his lockpicking tools working at the lock. Even the quiet metal-on-metal grated right against your eardrums. Fortunately, he was exceptionally skilled, because with a click the door was swinging open.

He rolled his eyes when he saw the lump of your body underneath the blankets. “My gods, you’re so lazy. Just like Gale.” His footsteps, even as an elven rogue, were too damn loud. You pressed your nose into the mattress, willing the thumping pulse in your head to stop. It thudded behind your eyes with each step.

In one swift motion, the blankets that provided the small mercy of darkness were whipped off of you. You curled as tightly into yourself as possible, covering your head with your arms to block out the sunlight streaming into your room. Astarion scoffed.

“Get out of bed and get up!” He gestured to the window. Even though you couldn’t see it, you could hear the rustling of his shirt. “It’s the morning. Listen, I might be a vampire that’s been away from the sun for 200 years, and I can actually now walk in it thanks to a tadpole that’s induced my mind,” he rambled, before huffing indignantly, “but even I don’t rest in!”

Now was the worst time for his dramatics. You usually adored how sassy and silly he could be, but now it just drove a stake through your brain. Even the Absolute couldn’t cause a pain this agonizing.

You whimpered, reaching out with one arm to swat him away. You missed. “Please, stop,” you whined. “Head hurts.”

He clicked his tongue. “Nothing the cleric can’t fix. C’mon, she can do whatever it is she does on our way out of here.”

You shook your head slowly, burying your face further and further into the bed. Gods, why did it have to hurt so fucking bad? Your chest tightened as the burn of tears stung at your eyes. Even crying hurt. Your body trembled and shook, your hands tangling into your hair to press at your affliction, as choked sobs suffocated you. Each gasp for air felt like a vice gripping your brain.

“Darling?” Astarion spoke, much softer. You couldn’t answer. He sighed softly, no longer annoyed. Well, a little annoyed. He dragged the blankets back up to your shoulders. “I’ll get Shadowheart.”

His footsteps were much lighter as he rushed out of your room. Was… this the work of the tadpoles? But wouldn’t they be affected, too? Ugh, why couldn’t anything be simple in this damn group of weirdos?

Shadowheart rushed in a moment later, remembering to keep her steps light halfway to you. She knelt down, frowning at the sight of the group’s leader so shaken. “Is it a migraine?” she whispered.

A sharp pain bolted through your temples as you nodded. You whimpered.

She sighed quietly. There was nothing her magic could do; migraines weren’t something she could just heal. “I’ll tell the others and whip up some tea, alright?”

She didn’t wait for your answer and set to work closing the curtains over the windows. Astarion frowned, missing the golden light already. “What’s wrong with them?”

Shadowheart put a finger over her lips with a glare. He scowled, but didn’t say anything. She only spoke when she was right next to him in the doorway. “They have a migraine. They’re extremely sensitive to light and sound right now.”

“Can’t you do something?” He glared impatiently at her, crossing his arms.

“There’s nothing for it. All we can do is wait. I suggest getting comfortable - we’re not leaving today.” She slipped past him, back down the stairs to the rest of your anxious companions.

He tapped his arm as he watched the lump under the blankets shift slowly as you finally uncovered your head. Baldur’s Gate was so close. Cazador was so close. They couldn’t deal with these delays when he was so damn close to being honestly, truly free.

He hadn’t moved from his post by the door when Shadowheart returned with a steaming cup of tea. She placed it carefully on your bedside table. “Drink this,” she whispered. “It should help with the pain.”

You nodded slightly, wiping at your face. She offered a little sympathetic smile. She gave Astarion a stern look as she passed. “Don’t try taking a nibble, vampire.”

He forced a sweet smile. “Offering yourself up instead?”

She scoffed, scrunching her nose up at the mere thought. “They need rest. And you leering over them isn’t going to help.” She left once more, with a last cursory glance over her shoulder to see if he’d leave.

Once she was out of sight, Astarion stepped into the room, softly closing the door behind him. His feet barely made a sound as he found his way back to your side. At least you weren’t curled up into a little ball anymore. Or crying. Small mercies, he supposed. He had no idea how to deal with someone being sick, let alone someone crying.

You looked at the cup on the table. Liquid salvation. The real trick was being able to drink it.

With a deep breath, you forced yourself to sit up, wincing and whimpering with every jerky motion. He was honestly shocked you didn’t jump when he grabbed your arm to help, but perhaps you really were that out of it. Or you knew he was there. Either way, you thank him in the smallest, most pathetic voice he’s ever heard.

Comfortably propped up on a stack of pillows against the headboard, you reached over to try grabbing the cup. He caught your hand just before you knocked the cup over.

“Careful, darling,” he chastised quietly. With a put-out sigh, he sat down at the edge of the bed and picked up the cup. He brought the rim to your lips. “Since you’re so incapable…”

You carefully took a sip. Your whole face relaxed at the warmth, and the soothing herbs mixed in. It wouldn’t be an immediate remedy, but it was a very pleasant one. After you eagerly drained half the cup, he set it back on the table. You sighed with relief, content in the knowledge even a single percentile of your pain could be eased away.

“You don’t have to stay,” you mumbled, watching him through squinted eyes. Even the dimness of the room was too bright for you.

He rolled his eyes playfully. “Least I could do after such a rude awakening.”

You chuckled, but the sound was cut short with a strong wince. You sat there for a moment, face pinched and brow tight as you waited for the sting to pass. Once it did, your face softened once more.

“How bad is it?”

“Like Dwarves are taking pickaxes to my temples in search of gold.” You took a breath. “And like an ogre is sitting on my head.”

He huffed a laugh. “Not much I can do to help with that, love.”

You hummed, shaking your head ever so slightly. You didn’t want to go jostling the miners when they were so damned hard at work.

With a small gesture toward the cup, Astarion helped you finish off the last half of the tea. A small dribble fell from the corner of your mouth down your chin. He caught it with his thumb quickly, the knuckles of his closed hand brushing your cheek. You leaned into the touch immediately, without even thinking about it. You sighed with relief.

“You’re cold.”

“Mm. Comes with being undead.” He set the cup aside, but allowed his hand to linger. In fact, he opened it up so he cupped your cheek with his palm. A sharp chill raced down your spine, but you didn’t pull away.

It was curious, how easily you placed yourself in his care. Watching as your eyes shut in easy tranquility as you indulged in the coolness of his hand, how relaxed you became - it surprised him. You always found new ways to amaze him.

Slowly, not wishing to jostle you, he moved to press his hand to your temple. If he thought you were relaxed before, this was utter bliss. “Gods, don’t stop,” you begged.

He glanced at the door, half expecting Shadowheart to burst in and yell at him for disturbing you. But nothing happened. Still, it would be better to avoid being told off. He pulled away, but kept a hand on your arm. “Lay down, dove.”

Whether out of desperation to have him acting as a cold compress once more or just to take the pressure off your brain, you complied in a heartbeat. Slowly, you shimmied back down into the covers, head situated on a pillow once more.

Astarion thought for a moment. Did he really want to keep sitting here, back tiring out, arms reaching for hours? You whined, placing a hand over his on your arm, asking without words for relief. He hushed you.

As quickly as he could without shaking the bed, he stood, rounded it, and slipped in under the covers beside you. You gravitated toward him immediately, even as you winced. Head on his chest, arms clinging to him like a babe holding onto its mother, you relaxed into the natural chill he offered. He rested a hand back on your cheek, but slid the other to the back of your neck. That was the sweet spot, it seemed; you practically melted in his arms.

It wasn’t long before you were fast asleep, lulled into peace with the aid of the tea. He stared at the dark curtains blocking out the sun. One more day couldn’t hurt, surely. Not that they really had a choice, but…

You stirred in your sleep, turning your head to press your nose further into the ruffles of his shirt. Like this - bags under your eyes, hair a mess, a bit pallid - he was sure. He would Ascend. You’d never have to suffer like this again. Neither of you would. He’d be the most powerful man in the lands, with you at his side. Never again would he have to live in fear, bound in chains to someone else.

He sighed and rested his cheek lightly on your head. Gods. Just a few days now.

---

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[thewertsearch]

EB: i would like to be culturally sensitive, but i wish it didn't have to be like that for you. […] AG: Well, thanks John. That's nice of you to say. 8ut let's face it, it doesn't fucking matter anymore, since our whole race was wiped out! […] AG: […] we'll never actually get to come of age and enter troll society, and see if we got what it takes. AG: 8ut that doesn't mean we stop growing up! AG: I think the game knows it's always gonna 8e played 8y kids, and it always rigs it so they enter right around the cusp of sexual maturity, whatever the race is. AG: Which kinda makes sense, since if they succeed, they've got their whole lives ahead of them to do whatever the hell they're going to do in their universe, like start repopul8ing and whatnot.

Vriska thinks that Sburb Players are always kids, because the game wants to give them more time to live in their universe. I'm a little skeptical, and not just because it de-canonizes my Homestucksona.

With the scale of what we’ve seen so far in the game, I didn’t expect a paltry concern like human lifespan to matter. With access to cloning, time travel and brain duplication, rejuvenating one's body would be trivial for a non-ascended Sburb Player, let alone a god of Life or Time.

AG: I really think how successfully they mature is tied to success in the game. It challenges the players in all the ways they need to 8e challenged to grow, which is different for every individual, and veeeeeeeery different for every race.

If Sburb absorbs the cultural standards of its Players, then I’m very happy we didn’t see the Quests that the game tailor-made for the Alternian Empire.

That would explain why we’ve never seen any troll Consorts, though. It's because they were conquered.

AG: I don't think we were so hot at that aspect of the game. In fact, I'm sure we were quite awful. Hell, even I wasn't that gr8 at it! I actually just kinda fell ass 8ackwards into the god tier, to 8e honest.

I wouldn't put too much stock into Sburb's idea of 'growth'. Its primary purpose is to propagate reality, and it's probably designed to mold you into someone well-suited to that task, regardless of your own desires. Your happiness and personal fulfillment is a secondary concern, at best.

Listen to what Sburb has to say, if you want - but take it with a huge pinch of salt. I doubt it has your best interests at heart.

AG: 8ut what really gets me is this didn't even occur to me until just now, while I was sitting around thinking a8out it. […] AG: That was why the game split us up into two teams. AG: It knew as we came of age, we'd pro8a8ly start killing each other. AG: So it just provided the stage. Red team vs. 8lue. It was so simple! All we had to do was what we were naturally inclined to. It might have worked out 8etter for us.

I don't agree with this take on the teams, either.

My interpretation is pretty much the opposite of Vriska's. I’ve always believed that the game pretended to split the trolls into teams, in order to trick them into joining one single cooperative group. If we assume propagation is Sburb's primary goal, then it must have concluded that this arrangement increased their chances of victory. In other words, the trolls are better together.

Plus, Sburb has never even hinted that the game can or should be played competitively. I think Vriska's just searching for reasons why everything's gone so wrong, and she's fallen back on Alternian conditioning again. Successful trolls kill, so her team must have failed because there weren't enough killings.