#and we’d all have to pretend that wasn’t insane

[sesamestreep]

it really is SUCH a shame that there’s no episode of TOS where the enterprise crew time jumps to Regency-era England or goes to a planet that modeled its culture on that era or something, because it would truly slap for every single main character. Like I don’t even have to explain why this would be awesome for Spock— Mr. I’ll-smash-a-computer-with-my-bare-hands-before-I’ll-admit-I’m-horny himself, king of repression, who basically recreated the famous Pride and Prejudice Hand Flex Scene™️ with his beloved Captain that one time, who meets a blind woman with a high tech gown that helps her “see” and LITERALLY tells her to give his compliments to her dressmaker, who mislead a woman once about his affections and tenderly promised to safeguard her reputation forever about it, who has the perfect angular features to be set off by a cravat—I mean, you get it, but then you’ve also got Kirk—handsome, affable, brave Naval captain who loves his crew more than himself, who falls in like deep profound love with every woman the plot throws at him—and then McCoy—cantankerous, sure, (ever heard of a grumpy/sunshine trope??) but with impeccable, downright old school manners towards women and, yeah, a doctor’s not that prestigious in Regency times, but for like a young lady in trouble who needs the protection of a man’s name or who just wants to piss off her stuffy aristocrat family by marrying “beneath” them, who could be better? If you throw Scotty in the mix, well, he’s Scottish, which [points at a whole subgenre of regency romance novels] is all he’d really need. I’m just saying they would have CLEANED UP, okay??

[luveline]

Maybe colt comforting reader when things for her film aren’t going right 🫶🏽🫶🏽

Colt comes to your rescue (clumsily) when you have a hard day. fem!reader, 1k words

Very minor plot spoilers for The Fall Guy (2024) if any

“I think he’s mad at you.” 

You pause where you’d been scrubbing your eyes with your hands, though you don’t look at him. Colt Seavers seems to follow you everywhere you go, and consequently plays witness to your many breakdowns. “Thanks, Colt. That’s astute.” 

“Are you mad at me? Why are you mad at me? It’s been ten seconds,” he complains. He has a unique talent for sounding flirty and needy at once. 

“No, Colt. I’m tired, it’s been a long day.” 

Colt is grinning when you meet his eyes. He has blood, fake or real undetermined, drying in the scruff of his facial hair. You gesture to yourself in a slow circle in the approximate area, to which Colt smiles again. 

“You look perfect,” he says confidently. 

“You have blood in your beard.” 

“Oh, right.” 

You sigh heavily, taking the few paces back to a stack of safety mattresses for a quick break. You’ll get up and help whoever needs helping as soon as you can feel your toes. Colt stays where he is, squinting against the sun, strands of blonde ends kissing his tan forehead. The summer shoots are good for him, he always looks so beachy. You’re exhausted all the time. 

As he notices. “Are you getting enough sleep?” he asks. 

“Yeah.” 

“‘Cos I was sleeping badly and then I got this new mattress that has four hybrid layers, there’s a foam layer, and then there’s titanium springs,” —he sees your distant expression and his own flickers— “anyways, you could try it if you want. Test it out with me. Or– Not with me. With me if you want. We’d have fun. But not with me if you don’t want to.” 

You’d laugh if you had the energy. “Do you wanna sit down?” you ask. 

“God, yes, please.” 

He has another talent for being insanely handsome no matter the day. You look like you’ve been badly rewarmed before serving, where he looks like he rolled out of bed with a smile. He’s smiling at you now, the foolish kind that’ll fluster you if you let him do it for too long. “Stop,” you say quietly. 

“You’re doing amazing.” 

“Thank you. You’re the only person who thinks so, unfortunately.” 

You smile at him weakly. Worried you look pathetic, you turn your face to your lap and clasp your fingers together. 

“That’s not true. Mayview is old-fashioned, that’s all, he was around when they were still killing horses on TV.” 

You grimace. “Yikes.”

“But it’s the modern era. He doesn’t get to make you feel like shit, or I’ll make him feel like shit.” He pretends to charge a sucker punch. 

You lean forward a touch, not quite hugging your knees but tempted to fold in on yourself nonetheless, the heat of the sun a memory on your neck as the evening begins and cloud cover floods in. 

The safety mattresses beneath you squeak and shush against each other. Your weight and Colt’s slides together slowly. He might be pushing himself a little with his boot, but you pretend not to notice as his hand comes to rest between your shoulders. 

“I just can’t do anything right,” you mumble. 

As soon as you’ve said it you’re hoping he can’t hear you, but he does. He might have injured pretty much anything that can be fractured, sprained, or just plain broken, but he has stellar hearing. “You do everything right. You do!” he says, quietly and passionately at once, “They don’t realise it, but you’re the glue keeping this whole thing together.” 

“What are you?” you ask, bemused.

His hand is warm on your shoulder, unafraid where he hesitates to answer, “I don’t know. The test dummy? The guy who gets set on fire a lot?” 

“How is that?” 

“Warm,” he says, beaming, his face so unexpectedly close that you can see the glucose shining in the blood on his cheek. Fake blood. “You wanna try it? I’m sure I could convince the guys.” 

“No, I’m okay.” 

His voice turns silky. “Good, I wasn’t gonna let you anyway.” 

“Let me?” 

“You could get hurt.”

You give in, melted maybe by his warm tones, or exhausted by a day of playing mom for a director who can barely tell his left from his right. Your face presses to his shoulder and your spine sags under his hand, prompting Colt to pull you flush against his side. He always waits for your signals for stuff like this, no matter how desperate he might confess to being. “Can you make them all leave me alone?” you mumble into his jacket, the fabric rough against your nose. 

“Obviously I can, but… We could run away.” 

“Where would we go?” 

“I don’t know. Somewhere sunny. You can rub sunblock on my back, I can hold the umbrella over your head while you read.” 

“They have stands for that sort of stuff. Or you can shove it in the sand, you know.”

“I wanna do something nice for you,” he interrupts, the sound of a smile in his voice as he gives you a friendly jostle. “That’s the point.” 

“You’re plenty nice, Colt.” 

And he is. He saw you were upset and he came jogging upto you valiantly, and your side-armed cuddle is really pushing the pep back into your life. You take a few deep breaths under the weight of his arm before turning to him, brave, ready to go back to work if it means he’s gonna drive you home tonight. “Thank you for caring.” You kiss his cheek, careful of the fake blood. “You’re super nice.” 

You miss the heat of him the second you stand, but there really is work to do. 

“I’m super nice?” he calls. “How nice is super? Nice enough to get another one of those, or what? Are they by the metre?” 

You bite back a smile. 

“Hello? Can you hear me?” He must catch someone’s eye. “She can’t hear me. It’s cool. We like each other.” 

Nobody saves face quite like Colt. 

[dollarbils]

my girl’s a stalker | b.e.

billie eilish x fem!reader

context. your burning desire for your stalker soon turns into something else, does that truly mean you don’t want her?

warnings. smut, strap, harsh words, physical struggle

part1, part2 masterlist

you hadn’t seen billie since she’d driven you home, and it was driving you insane. she was all you could think about, all the fucking time. and it pissed you off.

you couldn’t shake the thought of her. she was like a poison, slowly beginning to eat at your insides, pulling at your heart. you wouldn’t admit the fear creeping in however, your dependency on her attention beginning to scare you.

you were willing to do anything for a shred of care from her. you wanted her to need you like you needed her. the frustration was excruciating.

“what’s on that pretty mind of yours?” her voice spooked you beyond measure, the manifestation of your thoughts not quite believable.

“nothing.” your response was dry, not having recovered from the weight of your thoughts, still trapped in the escape of your mind.

“hm, gone shy now that i’m finally here? i know you’ve been thinking about me.” sometimes you genuinely wondered if she could see your thoughts, she certainly liked to pretend she could.

“what are you doing here, billie?” she looked slightly taken aback, not expecting the sudden hostility.

“why so blue?” she stepped into the light of the moon, her features seeming to glow as you looked at her in awe. her smile was sickening, so fucking gorgeous. her hands reached your face, cupping your cheeks.

“stop it billie.” you pulled her hands away, stepping back, out of fear you’d succumb to her comfort.

“what’s wrong, baby.” she seemed genuinely confused, and a tinge of guilt poked at you.

“i’m not your baby.” you crossed your arms in an assertive act, but she was biting her lip, scanning your body with that seductive look of hers.

“you could be, what’s stopping you?” she tried to come close again, but you backed away.

“i kissed you, and then you ignored me for a week! how am i supposed to react?” her bottom lip stuck out in an ask for forgiveness.

“i’ve been occupied lately.” her excuse was vague, and she knew she wasn’t getting away with it. secretly, she was hoping you’d ask.

“with what?” she smirked, her tongue coming up to kiss her teeth.

“i had to take care of something, someone.” the clarity of her response was still poor, confusion lacing your brows.

“Noah?” horror flooded your spine when she grinned. the name of your previous fling bringing back a rush of memories.

“that was his name?” she was toying with you, insinuating things you wouldn’t let yourself speak.

“what did you do to him?” you’d underestimated her before, but you undoubtedly knew she what was capable of now. you backed away from her and she furrowed her brows, her eyes wide, chasing after you.

“don’t be so dramatic, babe. this doesn’t change anything.” you gripped your phone in your back pocket, moving away from her cautiously as you thought on possibilities of distracting her.

“it does, depending on what you did.” you grasped the sides of your phone, searching for the button that would make an emergency call.

“jesus christ, all i did was threaten him not to bother you anymore.” Your back hit the wall and your face went pale when she trapped you within her arms.

“with a weapon i’m sure,” she shrugged, “you’re fucking crazy.” she seemed to like what was meant as an insult.

“and you can’t admit you love it.” her fingers grasped your wrist, the one that was deep in your back pocket, and she revealed your tight grip on your phone.

“i thought we’d moved past this?” she pouted, mocking the failed attempt at getting out of this situation. you refused to speak, closing your eyes as her lips came to yours, hovering above them. your body craved her and your senses went blurry, consumed by only her.

“don’t be afraid of me, i’m what you need.” the familiarity of the words did nothing to soothe you, your heart still racing as her tough hands glided down your hips. you squirmed in her embrace, not liking the way your body was so eager to connect with hers.

“don’t deny the fact you want me, you’re not hiding it very well, baby.” her hips moved against yours, the bulge beneath her jeans, prominent.

“f-fuck you.” it was almost a moan, a half-whimper that took of your last shred of confidence, and dignity for that matter. and then you were giving in, kissing her forcefully as she drilled her hips into yours.

“much better.” she breathed and you rolled your eyes as she slipped her fingers under your shirt, unclasping your bra. you allowed her to take both of them off, and she took her lips between her teeth when your breasts spilled out.

“take a fucking picture if it means you’ll hurry up.” she chuckled at the comment and lifts you into her arms, before releasing you onto your own bed, at least she had the decency.

“such a brat. you’re so fucking lucky i find it sexy.” she takes your nipple in her mouth as she plays with the buttons of your jeans. your lips are parted, soft noises escaping occasionally.

“you’re fucking lucky i put up with your shit.” you responded, in the same tone. her lips left your tit, as she poked her cheek with her tongue.

“my shit? you’re the one who can’t fucking listen to simple instructions.” she manages to flip you over, so that you’re lying on your stomach, with protest however.

“just.. f-fuck.” she’d had enough of what she deemed your nonsense, shutting you up with the tip of her strap against your clothed pussy.

“what’s that, love?” your mouth had gone dry with the constant gasps as she pressed her tip against you. your heat was practically dripping all over the sheets.

“you’re making such a mess, i haven’t even properly touched you.” she nearby ripped your underwear off, revealing your glistening pussy. she couldn’t help but spread your wetness around with her thumb, brushing your clit so deliciously.

“b-billie.” her name had never sounded so good to her. she squeezed your ass as she soaked in the sound of her name as a gasp from your lips.

“beg.” she fisted your hair and held your torso as she pulled you up until you were sitting on your heels. her strap digging into your ass, reminding you of your position. she kissed your neck while she waited for a response.

“f-fuck, please billie.” your head fell back as she tutted in disapproval, her lips still ghosting the skin below your ear, before she lifted them and whispered.

“you can do better than that, babe.” she bit your ear lobe as you let out another whine of protest.

“what do you want from me? im sorry, j-just please, billie.” your cries were incoherent, bland of nonsense. but fuck, did she love it.

“a bit pathetic hm?” she pushed your body back onto the bed, the momentum causing you to bounce slightly. a raspy whimper escaped as she teased your entrance, circling it and applying pressure. you thought you’d burst if she pushed it in, which she soon did, entirely.

“b-billie.” she thrusted into you as she revelled in the string of moans coming from your mouth, desperate to cling onto them.

“fuck, you’re tight baby.” her fake cock was stretching you out so deliciously, and her pace was never-faltering. she tugged on your hair as she rutted into you from behind, pulling your face from the sheets in order to hear your moans.

“mm, taking me so well, huh? so pretty.” the base of the strap hit her clit repeatedly as she thrusted deep inside of you. she pulled your legs around her waist, aiming to go even deeper, hitting your spot over and over again until your vision turned white, littered with fucking stars.

“fuckk billie, i-i’m.” your words were barely audible, but she caught wind of them regardless, amused at your current state.

“i know gorgeous, come on you can take it.” she eased you further to your release, the pent up tension breaking as a wave of pleasure consumed your body. her strap still buried inside of you was helping you ride out your orgasm. and soon after pulling out, she joined you on the bed.

“does that earn me a goodnight kiss?”

you rolled your eyes, she was unbelievable.

note: this basically equates to 1/4 of my inbox, here you go 🤲

[areyouwell]

Heliophobia

Noun: An extreme and irrational fear of light. Children or adults with heliophobia experience an extreme aversion to sunlight and may seek darkness in response.

Ch.8

Ch.7, Ch.6, Ch.5.5, Ch.5, Ch.4, Ch.3, Ch.2, Ch.1 <–

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!Mutant!Reader

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence

Word Count: 15.8K

A/N: bejeezus this was a tough one to get through, crazy how i thought i might be able to fit these last two chapter in one it would have been like 30k words... insane behaviour from me. also i really like writing horror scenes :D

Taglist: @badbishsblog @reidsworld @idioticstar @toogaytofunctiondangit @ghostyv @wolviesgirl @over-bi-the-wayside @justice4billiam @holyhumorliteraturelight @cxptainbuck @sseleniaa @sadslasher13 @yallgotkik @whyamistillontumbler @maddiedinosaur @bethexo07 @pwpwppeepeoor @y08h

“Let me OUT!” Logan cringed as what he assumed was your foot collided with the oak door, thumping against the abused wood. You’d been at this ever since you’d woken up, throwing various objects at the door only for it to remain sealed shut, only succeeding in creating some kind of shattered glass trap after pelting a vase at the panels. Logan sighed heavily, checking his watch. Three hours. You’d been furiously screaming for three hours, trying every fucking trick in the book to get him or anyone else to open the door. Scott had to hold him back when you pretended to be hurt, whimpering and gasping behind the door as if you’d broken a bone. Only to scream in pure, unbridled rage when you realised it hadn’t worked. 

Devious motherfucker. 

You weren’t the only one either. They had Erin held in another room, only she was taking her isolation much better. It was the safest option whilst Charles worked on restoring each subject’s memories. They’d started with Morgana, and Logan didn’t think he’d ever be able to shake the image of crimson blood leaking from every orifice of that girl’s face as she writhed on the floor from his head. But the shift in personality hadn’t been too great. She was still pretty relaxed and unserious, but now she was a lot quieter. Subdued. Like she’d had the hope beaten out of her. 

It fucking terrified him. How much would you change after Charles restored your memories? Would you still smile the same? Laugh the same? Would you still want to be around him? With him?

Would you still love him?

Logan sighed. It was selfish of him, for that to be his most pressing concern, but he didn’t know what he’d do if, after all this, you never looked at him again. Not in the same way. His heart constricted in his chest, dread pooling in his gut. He needed to entertain these scenarios. He needed to prepare for every eventuality. Even if it broke him apart.

“She still at it?”

He’d been too wrapped up in his head to register the light footsteps from down the hall, curly red hair bouncing at Morgana’s shoulders as she approached with two cups of coffee. She’d cleaned herself up since her ordeal, even adding winged eyeliner on either side of her scarlet eyes. Logan bristled slightly, though he truly didn’t mean it. Instinct had his muscles tensing and his gaze narrowing, the night he lost you playing in his mind’s eye, Morgana’s blank expression as she slowed his heartbeat, her shining irises.

But he made himself relax. She’d proven herself a friend to you, her concern touching a part of him that recognised he could trust her with you. Releasing a breath, Logan nodded in answer to her question. “Yeah… Hasn’t stopped.” He tried in vain to keep the defeat from his voice, gratefully taking the coffee Morgana held out to him. “How’s the other one?”

“Erin? She’s… hollow, I guess. One of our friends we’d left behind, she was kinda seeing him but also kinda not. It was complicated between them…” Morgana slid down the wall to sit on the floor, crossing her legs at the knee. Logan joined her, exhaling as he took the weight off his feet. 

The silence wasn’t exactly comfortable, and Logan was acutely aware of Morgana’s guilt. Having her memories restored, she now knew she played a critical role in your capture, and if it wasn’t for her, none of this would have happened. She opened her mouth to speak, but Logan beat her to it. 

“Don’t. You don’t gotta apologise. You didn’t know what you were doin’.” An apology would mean nothing to him. Sure, she’d aided your capture, but she’d also helped your escape, and monitored your blood pressure on the flight back to the mansion. She’d taken care of you where Logan couldn’t, and he was grateful for that. 

Morgana simply nodded silently, unshed tears shining in her eyes as she tried to smile. “Yeah, I know. Doesn’t make remembering any easier though…” she paused, fiddling with the handle of her mug. “Don’t do this to her.”

Logan blinked. “What’dya mean?” He didn’t mean to growl, and felt a little bad when the girl tensed slightly, before taking a deep breath.

“Don’t do this. There’s shit Kreva did that wasn’t documented, Logan. Special assignments, he called them. She took the brunt of it, every fucking time,” Morgana took a breath, angrily wiping at a disobedient tear sliding down her face. Logan’s stomach hollowed. He thought everything was detailed in the file. He thought he knew everything other than the last two months… “She wanted to protect us. Where the rest of us would fight to get away, she’d fight to go. It was her way of making sure we were safe, or I guess, as safe as we could be.” Morgana drew her knees up to her chest, her arms hugging around her shins. 

He couldn’t breathe, the steel lump in his throat clogging his airways, making oxygen rare. Why did you always have to be a fucking martyr? Why did you always have to put yourself last? Did you not know how important you were? How loved you were? Did you not realise how much it fucking hurt to see you in pain? And now he knew he wasn’t the only one, Morgana’s tears solidifying the impact you made on her, too. “What happened?” he asked a little shakily, bracing himself for whatever horrors he was about to hear.

Morgana clenched her jaw, her eyes closing against the nightmarish memories of her own past. “Field experiments. No point in creating an army if you don’t know how effective they’d be, right? I… I only did a few, but they were the shit you’d read in hidden government documents, ya know? Send us to war-torn countries to tear apart their refugee camps and hospitals. Infiltrate rebellions and silence their leaders before the spark of change could fan into a flame. 

“And nobody was better than Phantom. Entire towns crumbled to dust in a night. Politicians were brought to their knees with nothing but a flick of her wrist. She was an instrument of chaos, Logan. Of death. It’s why Kreva fought so fucking hard to get her back. She was a scalpel he used to surgically remove anything he deemed a threat to his advances,” Morgana’s voice trembled slightly, her eyes rising from the ground to meet his. “You get it now? Remembering all that… what she was forced to do, the acts she was forced to perform, it would destroy her.”

Logan didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know what to think. None of that had been detailed in the file. How many layers of torment existed? How many secrets did he need to uncover to truly understand what you were put through? Was the cost of getting you back greater than the cost of leaving you untouched? If what Morgana said was true, would you even want to remember? You did before, but neither you nor him truly knew the depth of your torture. Fuck. 

“I– I don’t–” He began before Morgana cut him off.

“Yeah, I know. I don’t know what to do either. We need her back to stop him. I sure as shit can’t beat Rowan, and neither can Erin. I don’t know everyone who lives here but I’ll bet you’d be hard-pressed to find someone who can. But her? She could. Theoretically…”

“Theoretically? Ya mean they’ve never been pitted against each other?” Logan asked, finding that hard to believe. Kreva put you through hell and back, performed every experiment under the goddamn sun on you, but never thought to match you against your brother? Maybe it was his own dark and twisted mind talking, but that would have been one of the first things he’d do.

“Nah. Even with Naji’s mutation, remnants of those experiments still stayed with us, usually affecting our mood. Pitting us against each other wouldn’t exactly build a good rapport since we were supposed to work together.” Morgana shrugged, her eyes now dry, having pushed past her initial flood of grief. “I just, can your Professor restore partial memories? I dunno, I just– she shouldn’t have to go through everything again. Shouldn’t have to remember everything she was forced to do.”

He could. Charles could. But Logan didn’t know if that would be enough. Even Kreva had said in your file you needed a certain number or specificity of memories to fully wield your mutation. He had no idea which ones they were, and whilst Charles was incredibly powerful, there was no way of him knowing either. But before he could respond, there was another cracking thump against the door and they both snapped their heads to where you’d once again tried to break through. 

Logan couldn’t help his little fond huff, despite the situation. You were as persistent as always, and he could feel your furious determination from the other side of the door. 

“Wow…” he shifted his attention back to Morgana who was looking at him with slight awe. “You really loved her, didn’t you?” 

He swallowed, her use of the past tense grating slightly in his chest. “Still do…” he murmured, dragging his gaze back to where you continued to try and break down the door. 

Morgana shifted next to him, her legs extending back in front of her, crossing at the ankle as she sipped her coffee. “So? Tell me everything. She’s my best friend and I know nothing about you, kinda unfair if you ask me.” She shrugged and Logan cast her a withering look. 

“Yeah, well I didn’t ask ya,” he sighed, before dragging his hands through his hair. He didn’t even know where to start when it came to you. “What’ya wanna know?”

Morgana clapped her hands excitedly, turning completely to face him, and he felt himself die a little on the inside, already regretting his agreement to this. 

“Where’dya meet? How long’ve you guys been together? Who said ‘I love you’ first, that kinda thing.” 

Logan raised a brow. Were these seriously the kinds of questions people wanted to know the answer to? He couldn’t help but think Morgana would get along well with both Marie and Kitty and considering this girl was apparently your best friend, it made a lot of sense. He rubbed at the back of his neck, all of a sudden feeling inadequate. 

“We uh, we met here, been together for somethin’ like eight months, last two not included and uh, I said it first.” His words came out a little jumbled, barely able to look Morgana in the eye as her grin widened.

“How long did it take the two of you to get together after you met?” She asked and Logan couldn’t help snorting a laugh. 

“‘Round three days, I think.”

The red-head choked on her coffee and Logan took a long, slightly smug sip of his own. Not quite as good as the ones you make, but it would do the job.

“Three days?! I thought us lesbians moved fast.” Her eyes were larger than saucers as she chuckled heartily, glancing between him and the door, where you’d finally gone quiet. “Though I guess your bond must have been strong if it could push past Naji’s mutation, she’d still dream about you. Did things just click between you? Just like, that instant connection kinda thing?”

The corners of his lips pulled up as he remembered seeing you for the first time. He’d never fucking admit it to anyone, but he was excited to meet you. He’d heard so damn much about you, never being able to put a face to the name was killing him. He’d sort of had an idea of what you looked like from listening to various conversations, but he wasn’t prepared for you to steal the breath from his damn lungs. You smiled so easily, laughed so brightly. You had a glimmer of wicked mischief in your eye that danced with each teasing comment you quipped. You were utterly mesmerising. Ethereal. Logan knew he was in trouble from the very start. 

“Somethin’ like that, yeah. She called me a son-of-a-bitch when we first met, I sorta stole her teaching position cuz she’d been away for two years and I didn’t think she even existed, to be honest with ya,” He too had noticed you’d gone silent on the other side of the door and he had a strong feeling you were listening. “Rest is history, but there’s very little I wouldn’t do to get her back…” he trailed off, swallowing around the lump reforming in his throat. He missed you. So fucking much. You were right there, on the other side of the door, but you looked at him with such unfamiliarity it broke him apart. You were right fucking there, but you’d never felt so far away. So out of his reach. 

A touch to his shoulder brought him back, Morgana’s hand resting atop his skin as she nodded to the door. “Go,” she mouthed, flicking her eyes back and forth between him and the wood, and he understood what she meant. Draining the remaining coffee from his mug, Logan stood to his feet, sending Morgana a wary glance behind him. He wasn’t sure this was a good idea, to be honest. You’d been so hellbent on escaping, what if this was just another one of your methods to free yourself from the room?

As if reading his mind, Morgana nodded encouragingly. “Her heart rate has settled and her blood pressure isn’t as high. Just go.” She whispered, snatching his mug from where he’d left it on the floor to return to the kitchen. She wasn’t needed for this next part and she knew it. From that one conversation, she seemed to know that he would be able to get through to you. He may be the only one who could. 

Logan took a breath, the metal of the bolt cool against his fingers before he pulled it across, twisting the doorknob and letting himself into an almost completely empty room. Before you’d woken up, Jean and Hank had set up a lighting system that didn’t cast extensive shadows. All the furniture had either been taken out or separated, each shadow on the ground completely isolated. Logan hated it. Hated that these were the lengths they had to go to in order to keep you safe. They were treating you no better than when you were a prisoner. 

It ate at his mind.

The lack of your presence however didn’t alarm him. He wasn’t expecting you to be standing waiting for him, especially if you could hear the conversation beyond the door. Taking a few slow steps into the room, Logan scanned the walls and floor, as if he could sense you in any of the various shadows. His own silhouette crossed through darkness cast by one of the tables, but it wasn’t until his back started to itch unbearably did he know where you were. Smart, he’d give you that, but you didn’t remember doing this to him before. You didn’t know he knew what it felt like. Logan rumbled a chuckle, turning to the light behind him and that itching shifted to his front. 

“You’re not as subtle as ya think, darlin’.” He mused, feeling you shift down his body and bleed through to his isolated shadow on the floor. His expression instantly softened as you rose from the ground, watching his every move warily, eyes flickering with every micromovement, nostrils flaring slightly as you prepared to make a break for it. Logan raised his hands like he’d done so many times before. “‘M’not gonna hurt ya. Never gonna hurt ya, firefly.”

“Stop calling me that.” You hissed, taking a step back from him. You’d finally learned his name, only thanks to eavesdropping on his conversation with Morgan. What the fuck had they done to her to make her so mellow? So willing to accept this. Rage flared in your gut at the thought of her being harmed. “What did you do to her? Morgana. What did you do?”

Logan almost winced at the way you hissed and snarled at him like a cornered animal, furious terror reeking off you in waves. “We helped her remember, like we’re gonna help you,” even if the idea still didn’t sit right with him. “You’re safe here. You both are.” He soothed, watching as you narrowed your eyes at him as if searching for deception. He let you look, knowing you’d find nothing but earnest truth. 

“Okay…” you breathed, though you still didn’t fully trust him. You kept your distance as he took a seat, leaning forward to brace his elbows on his thighs. Questions burned in your mind, but you kept your mouth shut, not wanting to divulge just how clueless you were about what was going on. 

Until it suddenly occurred to you. None of this was real. 

You’d seen reality glitch and phase around you. You watched your flat disappear to nothing, your friends fighting amongst themselves. Maybe there was some truth in Joes’ words. Maybe nothing you’d experienced was real, and maybe this was a part of it. You nodded to yourself, laughing bitterly.

Logan’s brows furrowed in confused concern. “What?”

“You’re not real, are you? You don’t exist.” You bit, gesturing savagely to where he was sitting. Logan hummed a tired, melancholy smile, his eyes sinking to the floor and you blinked in confusion. “What?”

You really were the reflection of his own soul, your brows pinching in exactly the same way, head tilting in the opposite direction to his own. In another time, he’d be feeling the same electric hum he always did in the moments before he kissed you, but the absence of love in your eyes kept him at bay.

“S’just funny… I said almost the exact same thing when we first met.” 

You shook your head furiously as if to clear your mind. “We’ve never met…” You whispered, though your voice faltered. Logan raised his gaze back to you, hope flickering in his chest.

“I don’t think you believe that.” He responded with equal hush, rising from the chair he’d just sat down upon, his hand still braced on the back of it. You shook your head again, eyes screwed shut as if to wall off whatever was going through your mind. 

“I– Even if I didn’t, I don’t remember you. I don’t know who you are.” The way your voice cracked was mirrored in his soul, spiderwebs of fragility snaking across his heart. You were almost pleading with him. With yourself. And to see you so fragile, so fucking scared, it made him want to shred Kreva apart.

“Morgana said you dreamt of me.”

“That’s just a coincidence…”

Logan took a step forward. “I don’t think you believe that either.”

All the tension in your body exploded, the fraying threads of your emotions finally snapping, and your maelstrom of fear and confusion stormed through your mental walls. “I don’t fucking know what I believe! I don’t! You can’t honestly stand there and expect me to believe you. Expect me to believe that the last twenty-two years of my life have been a lie. Because that’s fucking insane and you sound insane!

“But then you look at me… You look at me and I feel missed. And it fucking hurts because I don’t know why. I don’t know why you look at me like that and I don’t know who or what to believe anymore. I don’t know what’s real and I’m really fucking scared.” You took a breath, hot tears burning your eyes as you finally confessed just how utterly petrified you were. You hated feeling vulnerable, even more so in front of people you didn’t know. Or you did know. Or you did know but didn’t remember. Or whatever the truth was.

Every other time Logan had stood to pull you into his embrace, you’d melted into him, willingly accepting his comfort and warmth. So to see you recoil from his sudden movement, flinch at the way he took a hasty step toward you, shining eyes wide with fear, he had to bite down hard on his lip to stop his own overwhelming sense of guilt from springing tears to his own eyes. He took a steadying breath, frantically searching his brain for something, anything, to convince you that this was real. He was real. He knew you were scared. Fuck, he felt your fear as his own, but losing you now simply wasn’t an option.

Then it came to him. 

Slowly, tentatively, Logan extended his hand for you to take. “Eight months ago, you taught me something. I want to show you if you’ll let me.”

He saw you hesitate, eyes flickering from his hand to his face, then back to his hand. This would be it. Irrefutable proof that he was real, and the time he’d shared with you was real. Time ticked by, the clock on the wall mocking him with each rhythmic click until you nodded infinitesimally, slipping your soft palm into his. 

“Okay…” you whispered, and he offered you a small smile. 

“I need you to promise you won’t run.” He slowly brought you closer to him, keeping himself open to your suspicious gaze with each uncertain step. You sucked in a breath, still incredibly unsure.

“Fine. But I can’t promise I won’t try…” your mouth quirked in a half-hearted smirk, and though he could tell it was forced, Logan couldn’t help but feel like maybe, just maybe, you were coming back to him, piece by piece, little by little. 

It was like nothing had changed, having you in the kitchen with him, the sun casting a firelike glow through the windows. Like clockwork, he’d chopped, diced, mixed and stirred. The sizzle of browning onions, the scent of searing meat, cooking like this was now simply muscle memory, his hands working with minds of their own. All the while you watched over his shoulder, suspicious recognition creasing your brows as he stripped a few leaves of basil from their stem, dropping them into the bubbling marinara sauce. This was your recipe. You’d know it anywhere. How the fuck did he know it? How did he know the exact timings? The perfect colour for the meat before adding the sauce? And how the fuck did he know about the basil…?

Your heart raced. What if he was telling the truth? How would you even handle that? How would you go about wrapping your head around the fact that the last god knows how many years of your life have been bullshit? He had to be wrong. He had to be lying. For the sake of your own mental wellbeing, this had to be some kind of fucked up prank. Or a set-up. Maybe by that weird fucker who had Naji. 

That was something else you hadn’t allowed yourself to dwell on. The fact that your entire fucking flat simply disappeared. That you hadn’t seen any of your family since Naji tried to invade your mind. 

Naji…

You clenched your jaw. You couldn’t think about that right now. You couldn’t think about any of them right now. You didn’t know where they were, how they were. If they were alright if they were safe. If they were alive…

Here you were feeling so fucking scared, but so far none of these people had done anything to try and hurt you. Were the rest of them in similar positions? Was Atlas okay?

Was Rowan…?

Logan spared a glance away from the bubbling sauce to gauge your headspace, his brows pinching when he saw your eyes slightly glazed, lost in a mental spiral. Removing the wooden spoon from the sauce, he held it up to your mouth, snapping you from your dissociated daze. “Here. Recognise it?”

You looked at him slightly warily, watching his hand shift to cup just beneath the spoon, preventing spillages. Logan noticed your hesitation, your trepidation, and understood.  Even though you’d watched every step, you were still mistrusting. He couldn’t blame you. His gaze softened slightly, before bringing the spoon to his own mouth and tasting the food, proving to you there was nothing in it that could harm you. 

As per usual, it was fucking delicious. He couldn’t help but feel a little proud of himself for nailing it so well. The suspicion in your eyes faded slightly, and you nodded in consent as he offered it back to you, and you let him feed you your own recipe.

It was uncanny. 

“How did you…?”

Logan smiled slightly, placing the spoon back into the sauce. “I’d only known you for a day or so before we made this together. Actually, you made it and I just kinda watched.” The way he huffed fondly made your heart stutter and the realisation struck you like a punch to the gut. 

“This was real, wasn’t it…?” You asked quietly, and Logan stopped altogether to take a steadying breath. You were coming around. Finally, you were coming back. Not completely, he’d need Charles for that, but you were getting there. 

“Yeah. It was. I–” he paused, eyes trained solidly on the pan of spaghetti adjacent to the sauce. “It was my fault. I couldn’t keep you safe. I was fuckin’ helpless that night. I let them take you and couldn’t do anythin’ to stop it…” The memory still haunted him. Your bloodstained lips, your eyes fading before you dissolved, the way Kreva fucking laughed. It haunted every waking moment. 

A jolt of electricity bolted up his arm when your hand came to rest atop it. He thought it almost laughable. You comforting him whilst you didn’t even know who you were. Who he was. Managing to tear his eyes from the stove, his gaze met yours, finding only forgiveness. 

“What happened?” You asked quietly, finding warmth in the way his hand settled atop your own. 

“There was a raid here one night. That piece of shit Kreva came lookin’ for ya. Didn’t take you, but left somethin’ behind. You weren’t safe here, so I took you somewhere you were. Stayed there for six months before we had to come back. They ambushed us on the road. I was immobilised, and he took you from me and fuckin’ laughed as he did it.” He hissed, and your hand tightened on his arm. Not out of fear, he realised, but to ground him. To remind him you were there. It shattered and mended his heart at the same time. 

“Why you?” It was a loaded question. You knew that. But you needed confirmation. What you’d suspected from the moment he’d escorted you kicking and screaming into that room. From the moment you woke up. 

Logan drew in a breath. He didn’t know if telling you would make things better or worse. Whether it would help you or break you. He searched your face, finding nothing but gentle curiosity and settled on showing you instead. 

Turning back to the stove, he switched off the heat for both burners, before stepping from your touch and over to the radio. It had been a long time since you two had done this, but he couldn’t think of a better way to answer your question. 

Your head tilted in confusion as you watched him flip through the stations, pausing as if he’d seen a ghost when a song you knew crackled to life. You recognised this tune, but from when or where, you couldn’t tell. Logan turned back to you, his hand extended, vain hope glimmering in his hazel eyes. 

‘Pass me that lovely little gun My dear, my darling one’

With no small degree of hesitation, you slipped your hand into his, holding your breath as you stepped into his soft embrace. It felt familiar, like a smile from an old friend, or a spoken phrase lost to time. It felt nostalgic.

It felt like home. 

‘The cleaners are coming in, one by one You don’t even wanna let them start’

You let your arms snake around his neck, melting as his hands met your waist. Turning your head, you settled against the centre of his chest, his heartbeat steady against your ear as you swayed with him.

“We’ve done this before, haven’t we?”

‘They’re knocking now upon your door They measure the room, they know the score They’re mopping up the butcher’s floor Of your broken little hearts’

Pieces of Logan’s soul started to slowly knit back together, his arms encircling your waist to hold you tight against him, settling his cheek atop your head. 

“Yeah. Long time ago, but yeah.” He answered, his eyes stinging as you nestled closer into the dip between his collar and neck.

‘Forgive us now for what we’ve done It started out as a bit of fun Here, take these before we run away The keys to the gulag’

Your eyes closed involuntarily, basking in the unfamiliar familiarity of his smell. The dreams you had, weren’t dreams at all. They were memories. You realise that now. You were remembering a life you didn’t know you had. You were remembering him the only way you could. 

‘Here comes Frank and poor old Jim They’re gathering ‘round with all my friends We’re older now the light is dim And you are only just beginning’

Logan let himself believe if only for a moment, you remembered him. He let himself sink into the alternate reality where nothing had happened. Where you were simply with him and you were safe. Where your brother wasn’t lost and you weren’t terrified anymore. Where he could hold you without being afraid it could be the last time. Where Jade wasn’t dead but just merely an ex of your past. Where you had complete control of your mutation and weren’t afraid of yourself. 

He let himself breathe you in, your distinct scent wrapping around his mind and heart. Fuck he’d missed you so fucking much.

‘We have the answers to all your fears It’s short, it's simple, it’s crystal clear It’s roundabout and it’s somewhere near Lost amongst our winnings’

“I know why it was you…” You murmured gently, raising your head from the home you’d made. Logan’s hand slid from your waist to cup the side of your neck, keeping you there. 

‘The cleaners have done their job on you They’re hip to it, man, they’re in the groove They’ve hosed you down, you’re good as new And they’re lining up to inspect you’

Logan didn’t dare ask. Didn’t dare prompt you to continue. Could barely whisper to you in fear of his voice cracking, the growing lump in his throat making breathing suddenly much more difficult. 

‘Poor old Jim’s white as a ghost He’s found the answer that we lost We’re weeping now, weeping because There’s nothing we can do to protect you’

Your eyes flickered between his, the sting of unshed tears lining your lashes as you swallowed thickly. “I loved you. Didn’t I?”

O, children Lift up your voice, lift up your voice Children Rejoice, Rejoice

Logan closed his eyes, fighting against the urge to sink to his knees. The past tense speared his heart, but he nodded nonetheless, taking in a shaky breath. “Yeah, you did.”

Your hand skirted from his neck to the side of his face, thumb gently smoothing over his cheekbone. “And you? Did you love me?”

His eyes fluttered open again to find slight, broken hope glittering in your irises, those windows he’d come to love so fucking much. 

“Sweetheart,” he breathed, bracing his forehead against your own. “I still do.” 

The moment his lips graced your own, you felt the tears in your eyes spill down your cheeks, a lost piece of your heart fixing back into place. You felt whole again, here in his arms, kissing him to the beat of the music.

‘Hey little train, we’re jumping on The train that goes to the kingdom We’re happy, Ma, we’re having fun The train ain’t even left the station Hey little train, wait for me I once was blind but now I see Have you a seat for me Is that such a stretch of the imagination?’

Your breath caught in your throat as you tightened your arms around his neck, his hold around your waist responding in kind. You loved him. No. That didn’t feel right. 

You love him. 

Logan released the leash he had on his emotions, allowing liquid heartache to slide down his cheeks. All the fear, all the doubt, every single thought of losing you washed away as your tongue softly swiped at his lips, and he pulled you home. 

Home.  ‘Hey little train, wait for me Was bound in chains, but now I’m free I’m hanging in there, don’t you see? In this process of elimination Hey little train, we’re jumping on The train that goes to the kingdom We’re happy, Ma, we’re having fun Beyond my wildest expectation’

The music faded and you pulled back a little, eyes fluttering open to find him already gazing at you, longing dancing in his eyes, damp trails lining either side of his face. “What now…?” you queried softly, and Logan sighed slightly. 

“You gotta make a choice. Charles can help you remember everythin’ but… it won’t be easy for ya. I don’t know what you’ve gone through the last two months, but I know everythin’ you went through before. And Morgana filled me in on some shit Kreva didn’t note down…” 

Your heart skipped a beat. “Morgana? Is she alright?” 

Logan nodded, the relief on your face worth all the stars in the sky. “Yeah, she’s fine ‘n safe. Charles already helped her, so she remembers. Erin’s here too but uh… she’s less cooperative.” 

You snickered, and Logan thought he’d have to die before he heard that sound again. “Yeah, sounds like Erin. Is Rowan here? I should probably see him, let him know I’m alright.” 

Your heart dropped with the way Logan’s face fell, dread pooling in your gut. 

“We’re gonna get him back, ‘kay? All of them. We’re gonna get ‘em all back. I promise.” Not even the conviction in his voice, nor the way his hands smoothed your hair, brought you any comfort. 

“Where is he…?” You asked, though utterly terrified to know the answer. 

Logan sucked in a breath, bracing himself. “We’d managed to get you, Morgana, Erin and Rowan out before we had to bail. Kurt can teleport too, but his last trip was Rowan before it became too dangerous. We were already in the air, and we thought we were safe. But Joes came out of nowhere and took him back to Kreva.”

You gasped a sob, attempting to wrench yourself from his grip but he held you fast. “L– let me go! I– I have to get him. I can’t leave him.” You bit between stuttered breaths, panic rising in your throat. “I can’t– I can’t leave him there. He’s my brother. Logan let– let me go!” You fought against his hold and took every weak punch, every struggled pound against his chest.

“I know darlin’, I know.” he hushed as you went limp in his hold, your shoulders shaking with each strangled cry. “Shh, it’s okay. We’re gonna get him back, firefly. I promise,” he whispered into your hair as you fell to pieces in his embrace, sinking to the ground in his arms. He pulled you in tight, bracing you against his chest. “I promise. It’s okay, shh, shh, it’s okay.”

He held you as you cried, having the distinct feeling you weren’t just crying for Rowan. And he was right. Everything had hit you all at once. Your lost life. Your forgotten memories. The lies. So many fucking lies. And the one person who had told you the truth you didn’t fucking remember. 

How long you’d been sitting in his arms, crying into his chest whilst he whispered soothing nothings into your hair, you’d never know. But when your sobs reduced to nothing but hiccups, you raised your head, taking a long, shaky breath. 

Logan’s palms instantly cupped either side of your face, thumbs wiping away the stains of tears from your cheeks before he offered you a small, empathetic smile. You slowly blew out the breath you were holding, brows pinching against another wave of anguish. “You said I had a choice. What was the other option?”

“You stay like this,” he began, his thumbs still smoothing over your cheeks though the tears were long gone now. “We try help you with your mutation and you don’t remember everything you’ve endured. We tell you what you need to know and you start again.” Both options terrified him. There was no easy way forward, and he knew that. He knew you knew that too. 

“So, I’m spared of whatever shit I’ve been through but I won’t remember anything else?” you clarified and he nodded. “I won’t remember you?” Logan nodded again, though his time it was slight. “And you’re okay with that?”

No. He wasn’t. It was agony to think that you wouldn’t remember the last eight months you’d spent with him. “That doesn’t matter here–” He started before you cut him off. 

“It matters to me. I want to remember you, Logan.”

His jaw tensed, eyes lowering to the floor. “I don’t wanna be the reason you’re in pain. I don’t want you to remember for me just to regret it after you remember everythin’ else. Your past wasn’t kind to you, sweetheart.” He couldn’t help the way his chest inflated when your hand softly cupped the side of his bearded jaw, raising his head back to look into your eyes. 

“I’d want to remember anyway. I don’t wanna be some vacant shell who doesn’t know who she is. No matter how fucked up. No matter what I went through, it made me who I was. It made me who you fell in love with. I wanna be her again.” 

“You already are.” He murmured, before capturing your lips in another gentle kiss and you smiled against him. “There isn’t a version of you I won’t love. Whether you remember everythin’ or nothin’,” he whispered against your lips. “I’ll always be right here.”

You rested your brow against his as if you could communicate everything you were feeling through touch alone. “I think we need to go and see Charles.”

You don’t think you’d ever been this nervous. Your heart beat like a freight train in your chest, nails digging into the palms of your hands as you stood outside Charles Xavier’s office alone. Logan had entered before you, telling you to wait whilst he spoke to the headmaster, about what you could only assume. 

Your breath came quick, unsteady. You’d already agreed to get your memories back before Logan even brought it up. You wanted to know who you were, but now you were standing outside Xavier’s office, you weren’t sure you made the right choice. What if restoring your memories made you a completely different person? You didn’t know if they’d been restored before, had they been restored when Logan met you? Is that who he fell in love with? Or were you just as clueless then as you were now? You had too many questions and too few answers to feel calm about what lay ahead of you. 

Your biggest fear was remembering that you agreed with Kreva, and whatever he was trying to do. From what you knew, he was pure fucking evil, running experiments on mutants for whatever sick and twisted gains he got out of it. You didn’t know his end goal, but what if you agreed with him? Surely that was how you wound up there in the first place, no?

Or were you taken? Or sold? You couldn’t even remember your parents. Did you have parents? Were you grown in that fucking facility?

Too many questions.

Your teeth gnawed on your bottom lip as you waited, savouring the slight bite of pain as you peeled a layer of skin into your mouth, sucking the blood from the hurt. This was taking too long. He’d been in there for too long. You didn’t know exactly how long, but it was only supposed to be a quick conversation, not whatever the fuck this was. Having just about enough of waiting, you’d resolved to knock on the door and not wait for an answer before heading in. That was until the door opened slowly, a dark-haired girl poking her head from the room inside. 

“You uh, you can come in. Sorry it took so long…” she mumbled, avoiding eye contact. You tilted your head to the side. When the fuck had she arrived? You’d been standing outside this office since Logan went in and you hadn’t seen anyone enter or exit? She opened the door a little wider, revealing five other people, your eyes widened as you saw the familiar auburn curly hair of your best friend. 

“Morgo…” You breathed, before rushing through the door and past the makeshift bed to wrap your arms around her, holding her tight. Morgana reciprocated, her hands braced against your back as she squeezed you in her embrace. 

“Hey, freakshow. How’re you holding up?” She asked, pulling back slightly to give you a once over, making sure you weren’t hurt.

It warmed Logan’s heart to see you interact with your friends like this. The raw relief etched into your features brought him a kind of relief of his own. Morgana was safe, and that had somewhat set you at ease.

“Yeah, ‘m’okay. Upright and not crying.” You shrugged, and Morgana laughed slightly. Clearly, that must have been some kind of inside joke between the two of you. Logan didn’t fight to hide his smile, earning himself a sweet look from Ororo and a look of utter shock from Scott. He rolled his eyes at the latter.

“Sounds about right,” Morgana’s eyes fell to the floor as she thought about what she wanted to say next. “Look… if you’re gonna go ahead with this–”

“I am, Morgo. Why is everyone trying to convince me not to now? Surely the whole point in getting me back was to restore my memories, now you’re all questioning it?” 

Logan could understand why you were so irate. Everything was so fucking confusing right now. It was hard to know what the right thing to do was. But you’d chosen, and he needed to respect that. As did everyone else in the room.

“I get that. I just… you need to prepare yourself. Mine wasn’t exactly pretty and I didn’t go through half the shit you did,” she continued, empathy flooding her crimson eyes. “I just– you went through so fucking much. For our sake. You were… different to how you are now.”

Logan felt the blood drain from his face. “Different how?” he asked lowly, prepared to drag you away and hole up with you somewhere safe. 

Not that it had helped last time.

“Nothing bad! You never worked for Kreva willingly…” she paused, glancing at each mutant in the room. “You were just… scarier if that makes sense. You scared the shit out of us. Not because you did anything! Fuck I’m explaining this so badly…” she sucked in a breath, holding it for a beat before exhaling. “You were real good at sealing away your emotions. Most of the time we wondered if you had any at all. It was always Rowan who was the emotional one. You were just kinda… stony, about the whole thing. The only time you spoke out was when you volunteered yourself for certain things, and that was to protect us. You weren’t a bad person, you were just… yeah. Different.” She finished, leaving the room in stunned silence. 

It didn’t come as too much of a surprise to Logan. You didn’t want to share your emotions at the best of times, at least at the start of your relationship. And knowing you had to do that almost your whole life, not because of lack of option, but because of self-preservation? It burned him.

“Okay… but I wasn’t like, fucked up or anything. Like, I didn’t kill a bunch of people, right?”

The silence was so loud you could hear it echoing against the walls of the room. You refused to let it scare you. You weren’t about to be intimidated out of this. No matter what you’d done in your past, it would stay where it belonged. 

In the fucking past. 

“This is taking too fucking long. Can we just do it?” You grit, folding your arms in irritation. 

“You’re certain this is what you want?” Your head whipped around to who you assumed was Charles Xavier. Honestly, he wasn’t what you were expecting. You were expecting someone a little more intimidating to be the head of the school and the mutant everyone kept banging on about. Not just some older dude in a wheelchair. 

“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.” You responded curtly, casting a glance at the others around the room. The girl with the brown hair stood close to Logan, her brows pinched in subdued fear. For you or of you, you couldn’t discern. Were you really that scary? 

Charles exhaled a sigh. “Very well then. If you could all leave the room.”

“I’m stayin’.” Logan wasn’t about to leave you alone with this. He’d seen what had happened to Morgana. Watched as she writhed and contorted on the ground, blood streaming from her ears and nose. He wasn’t about to wait in ignorance whilst you were in agonising pain in here. He didn’t think he had it in him. 

“Logan�� this procedure is extremely difficult. Any distractions could cause further damage to her subconscious.”

“Then I won’t be distracting.” His tone left no room for argument, and you honestly felt a little better knowing he wasn’t going to leave you. He cast you a slight, encouraging smile and you nodded in gratitude as Charles huffed in defeat.

“Fine. If everyone else could leave the room.” He said pointedly, and Morgana enveloped you in another hug.

“I’ll see ya on the other side, girlie. You’ll be fine. You got your big strong dream man with ya.” She winked and you couldn’t help snorting a laugh, though you could tell by the look in her eye she was terrified for you. That one you could distinguish. 

The woman with white hair placed a hand on your shoulder as Morgana left through the door. Though you couldn’t recall a single time you’d ever met her, she looked at you as if you were an old friend, though said nothing. Her hand squeezed slightly before she too headed out. The man you knew to be Scott strode passed you wordlessly, refusing to even look up at you through his sunglasses.

What the fuck was his problem?

“Kitty?” Charles prompted, and you turned to look to where the girl was staying completely still, her sad eyes still trained on you. You raised a brow, and she winced slightly, before running to pull you into a crushing hug. 

“I don’t care who you are after this. I don’t hate you anymore. It wasn’t your fault, I truly understand that now. I’m so, so sorry for blaming you.” You held your hands up as her hold on you tightened, shooting Logan a panicked glance. 

“Kitty…” he started, and she took a step back from you, angrily wiping at the tears down her cheeks. 

“Yeah, right. Okay. You got this, yeah? Come find me after and we can have tea or something. We got a lot to catch up on…” She gave you one last hug before almost running from the room, closing the door behind her. You watched the closed door with complete confusion. Logan chuckled slightly behind you, placing both hands on either of your shoulders.

“She’s missed ya. We all have.” You leaned back, your head resting against the back of his chest as he pressed a kiss to your hair. 

“You won’t have to for much longer, right?” You looked around Logan to where Charles had taken his place at the head-side of the bed. It looked like some kind of medical bed they’d dragged from a hospital. Did they have one here? You supposed it was useful if things were to go wrong. 

The thought had your gut twisting. Just how wrong could things go…?

“Hey,” Logan caught your attention, a hand guiding your face to look at him. It’s like he had a sixth sense for whenever you started to spiral, noticing the moment your eyes looked even a little distant. “You’re gonna be okay. I’ll be right here, yeah? Not gonna leave ya.” He soothed, slowly wrapping his arms around your shoulders, a broad hand cupping the back of your head as you nuzzled into the crook of his neck, savouring the contact.

“Okay…” you breathed, steeling yourself before pushing back from him and turning to Charles. “Let’s just get this over with…”

Charles nodded finitely, patting the surface of the medical bed. “Just lie back and try to relax. I know it’s difficult considering the circumstances, but if you could keep your mind as clear as you can, it will greatly help the process.” 

You sucked in a breath, hopping up onto the bed and swinging your legs over, lying back against the hard surface. They really hadn’t tried to make it particularly comfortable, but you supposed they didn’t have time before they tried this with Morgana.

Morgana.

You concentrated on how she was even after this procedure. She hadn’t all changed that much. Maybe you’d be the same. Maybe you’d still be you but with very little noticeable change. Thinking of her filled you with courage, even more so when Logan took your hand and knelt by your bedside. 

“You ready?” He asked, trying his fucking best not to let his overwhelming concern leak through his voice. You nodded a little shakily as Charles’ hands came to rest on either side of your head.

“See you on the other side.” You smiled weakly, squeezing his hand slightly, before you felt a slight pressure inside your head, growing and pushing, rearranging, and your vision faded to black.

You were falling. Wind whipped your hair and face, arms flailing to catch yourself on something, anything, trying in vain to save yourself from the inevitable landing. Your stomach lurched up into your throat, guts writhing and flipping as you failed to control your descent. Mouth agape in a silent, wrenching scream, you plummeted down, down, down. Flashes of light burned against your closed eyes, colours singing your retinas as you clawed at nothing, deafening voices ringing in your ears, crashes of explosions, and bloodcurdling screams cut short. Your heart raced in your chest, your breathing ragged before everything stopped.

You plunged into an ocean of pitch black, lungs burning as you fought to breathe, only resulting in an intake of water, mocking bubbles rising from your mouth, legs kicking fruitlessly against the anchor wrapped around your feet. Cracking your eyes open, you looked down.

Not an anchor.

A hand.

A shadowy, skeletal hand gripped your ankle, seven more rising from the obsidian depths to grasp at your legs, your waist, scratching against your skin, tearing at your clothes as you struggled to free yourself, writhing and twitching to reach the surface. 

You screamed again, muffled, jagged, noiseless in the muted depths of your own mind. Your vision tunnelled, oxygen scarce as your brain started to shut down. This was it. This was where you died. Trapped in the sea of black, drowned by your own fears.

Until everything stopped. Your feet touched solid ground and the ocean started to drain away around you. After being so weightless, your body felt like lead as you lay on the surface, coughing up inky liquid, your chest heaving with every strangled breath. Taking just a moment to remind yourself you weren’t dead, you roughly swiped your soaking hair from your face, lifting your head to at least try and take a look at your surroundings. But your eyes were met with nothing. Absolutely nothing. You couldn’t tell where the floor ended and the sky began. There was no divide. You were completely lost and for the first time, you found yourself wishing there was some kind of light to guide you. 

As if on command, a flicker of white appeared ahead of you, illuminating the pit of nothingness and granting you the vision you sought. Shakily struggling to your feet, you looked down and froze slightly. What you were standing on wasn’t solid. Or at least, it shouldn’t be. Ripples shifted beneath your feet like water, the light reflecting in irregular patterns with one small step forward. Taking one knee, you pressed your hand against the surface, pulling back as it shifted with your contact, your own reflection looking back at you quizzically. 

Releasing a determined huff, you wiped your wet hand on your soaking t-shirt, looking back to the pulsing light ahead of you, drawing you in. And you let it, your legs moving as if on their own, footsteps echoing in the emptiness. Some kind of chamber, then, if your footsteps bounced back to you. 

Your eyes squinted the closer you got, your hand shielding your face from the light, before it dulled for you, as if understanding. You blinked away the spots behind your eyes, leaning closer to the orb, and tilting your head around it. Images flashed within the surface, faces you knew well, and faces you didn’t recognise. This was you, you realised. This was everything you were missing. Everything you’d been through, everything you didn’t remember was right here in front of you. Who you were. Who you are. 

Reaching up, you lightly tapped the surface of the glow with your finger, watching as it started to pulse faster, light growing more intense before your vision exploded with white and you were thrust forward, the environment around you shifting and changing like ink in a glass of water. 

Falling to your knees, you barely caught yourself before you struck the floor, your hands biting against a cold, steel surface. Shaking your head of a slight fuzziness, you inhaled, almost choking on the thick scent of sweat and fuel. Your heartbeat spiked.

You knew this. 

Fear laced your blood as you raised your head, taking in the all too familiar interior of an aircraft, and your breath froze when your eyes landed upon a lone figure sitting against the wall, her hair bound behind her bowed head, fingers laced together, dressed in all black. 

You knew her. Fuck did you know her. You knew her incredibly well.

Because it was you. 

But it wasn’t you at the same time. You were sitting dangerously still, various knives and blades strapped across your back, your legs, and the sides of your combat boots. A black mask settled over the entirety of your face, two thin slits cut into the metal for you to see out of. You remembered that fucking thing. It stank of blood and fear.

“You’ve got your orders?” 

Your attention shifted to a burly, broad-shouldered man who stood in the doorway between the hold and the cockpit, his arms folded across his chest, a gun strapped across his back, a similar mask concealing his features. But you knew who it was. Of course you did. It was the same motherfucker who’d held Naji by the throat not two days ago. 

Your past stayed silent, simply wringing her hands together as if to resist wrapping them around his throat.

“Not feeling talkative, Subject Eight?” his voice lilted with mocking as he leaned against the doorway in a way that told you this must have been one of the first interactions between them. 

Silently, the shadows in the craft started to shift, tendrils winding up his legs, around his waist and neck, and he only seemed to notice when they started to constrict.

“H-hey, what’re y–”

“Don’t fucking call me that,” your past hissed, slowly rising to her feet, her fingers flexing as darkness extended from her fingertips, sharpening into five long, razor-sharp claws. “I can show you things not even Kreva knows I can do.” With deadly quiet, she stalked across the floor, raising her hand to the man’s face, a claw pointed dangerously close to his eye. Those tendrils around his body tightened further, and you watched as he struggled to draw breath. 

Kreva.

Even hearing his name sent ice through your veins.

“It was– just a joke, Phantom.” He managed through strangled breaths, struggling to free himself as he started to rise from the floor, Phantom taking a step back from him as if to admire her work. 

“Drop zone in– what’s going on here?” another faceless soldier stepped through the door, sounding almost irritated at what he was seeing. Phantom’s head turned to him almost robotically, the shadows dissolving in an instant. 

“Just joking around.” She responded flatly, her voice devoid of all emotion. Was this seriously how you used to be?

“K, what did Doc say about pissing her off?” he asked his companion who had crumpled to the floor, a hand braced around his neck, his breaths strained and harsh. “Fucking idiot. Drop zone in five.” was all the newcomer said, before turning on his heel and marching out, K now scrambling to his feet to follow, muttering something that sounded like ‘crazy mutant bitch’ under his breath as he went. 

You watched as your past sighed, sitting back down heavily and bracing her head in her hands. You knew what she was doing. She was remembering why she was here. Who she was here for. This was one of the missions you’d volunteer for to save them. To save the rest of NLMO from the mental torture you were about to endure. Because that’s all these missions were. Mental, emotional torture. You didn’t want to hurt people. You hated how he made you hurt people. So many innocent lives would suffer because of the things you would do. 

It made you wonder which particular mission this was. 

Red lights flared to life, a deafening siren blaring as the doors to the hold opened and Phantom stood, checking her equipment one last time before another figure appeared through the door, and you felt yourself freeze in place.

Unnaturally skinny, tall, and had a pair of thick, round glasses perched on the end of his crooked nose. Terror stilled your breath as Doctor Kreva walked through the doors, placing two hands on either of Phantom’s shoulders.

She stiffened.

“My darling Eight. I wanted to wish you luck before your mission,” he drawled, relishing in the theatrics. “This should be easy enough for you, but in case you forget, Subject Five is primed and ready if you decide you want to stage another little rebellion.” 

Phantom released a shaky breath, her eyes closing behind her mask. It was your punishment. It was always your punishment. If you acted out, if you even thought about fighting back, they’d torture your brother to tighten your leash and force you to cooperate.

She stayed silent, and Kreva’s hand clawed into her shoulders and you felt the pressure against your own before he released her and took a step back and said nothing else as Phantom opened her eyes and took off at a run towards the open bay door, leaping into the dark sky beyond. 

You followed, copying her exact movements and dissolving into the dark before either of you struck the ground. You had a sneaking suspicion you couldn’t be hurt or killed within a memory, but you also didn’t particularly want to risk it. 

Rising up from the shadows, you took a moment to look around, spotting your past lightly jogging towards a dirt track. Bile rose in your throat. You knew what this mission was. Even in the dead of night, you’d recognise this location anywhere. Breath flew from your lungs as you tried to call out to yourself, beg her to stop before she did what she could never undo. But no sound left your mouth. You were mute, powerless to do nothing but watch and remember as Phantom stood in the centre of the track, statue-esque, silent. 

You followed at a sprint. If you couldn’t stop her verbally, then you’d take her out by force. You could stop this. You could change your past. This didn’t have to happen. Lowering your head, you lunged forward toward her, arms outstretched to tackle her to the floor.

Only, you passed straight through her, landing harshly on the other side of the dirt track. Though you felt no pain. Only the sharp jolt of coming to such a sudden stop. You looked back in terror as headlights shone from ahead, the low hum of engines cut through the silence of the night as four trucks approached your location, each with a silver caduceus painted into the back doors. 

These were medical trucks. Transporting supplies to the refugee hospital a little further away. Your head whipped around. How had you not seen the small, twinkling lights in the middle distance? This was a camp for those who had evacuated the small local town after the airstrike. 

Hundreds of children were taking shelter there. So many innocent lives you were about to snuff out. 

The trucks trundled to a stop, engines stuttering, and you watched as Phantom raised her hands in faux fear, slowly backing out of the cones of light. Four gunmen rushed to the front of the convoy, fingers braced on the triggers of their rifles, though hesitant to shoot. These weren’t soldiers. They hadn’t been trained to kill people. You realised they were more likely fathers, sons, brothers of those who had been injured or killed in the attack. The town was the centre of the uprising, and in one fell swoop, it had been completely obliterated.

These people were just trying to survive. Trying to recover.

Voices rang out in a language you didn’t understand, and you know your past self didn’t understand either. You watched as she bowed her head in submission, backing up a little further until she was completely out of the light. You remembered this. 

You knew what happened next. 

With a flick of her hand, a tendril of shadow whipped out from the darkness, wrapping around the first gunman’s neck and dragging him screaming into the tree line. Gunshots were fired, but none of them met their mark. These people barely knew how to use their weapons, let alone accurately. A jagged spike erupted from the night, spearing another through his spine with a wet squelch and raising him off the ground for the other two to watch, before slamming him back into the dirt, knives of obsidian rising from his own shadow to pierce through his back. 

Make them fear you. That was Kreva’s orders. Make them so terrified the thought of uprising was synonymous with pain and death. With loss and grief. 

With utter, paralysing terror. 

The two cowered back, a stray bullet firing into her shoulder. She took a single step back, the shadows in the gunman’s chest dissolving, leaving him choking in a pool of his own blood. Holy fuck he was still alive. 

You watched with sick awe as darkness wound up her legs to cover the wound, sifting through her skin and mending it flawlessly, leaving nothing but a small spot of blood. With a tilt of her head and a flick of her fingers, two humanoid figures rose from the shadows on either side of the track, stepping fearlessly into the light to flank the two remaining men. Your stomach convulsed as one of the figures disappeared completely into one man through his own silhouette, flinching as his neck snapped back, a black hand exploding up through his mouth, blood raining onto his face as he stood in a horrific exhibition of your forgotten mutation. He slumped to the floor, the shadow figure remaining standing as he twitched before falling completely still. 

The final gunman fell to his knees, muttering quickly and breathlessly and you realised he was praying. Several thorned whisps rose up from his shadow, snaking around his body, across his forehead, before Phantom’s fist started to tighten, and those thorns dug into his skin. Trails of crimson leaked down his face as they continued to constrict, his voice raising as he prayed, though for what or to whom, you didn’t know. Her fist closed completely, and with a sickening crunch of snapping bones, the shadows sectioned his body into pieces, his head split in two. 

Blood soaked into the earth as Phantom stepped back into the light, her eyes trained on the remaining people inside the cars, each too terrified to make any kind of move. Tears trailed down your face as five more figures formed from nothing, almost floating to each truck to silence the screams of the terrified until one remained. He was dragged through the dust by two of her puppets and thrown at her feet face down. Phantom crouched, raising his head with the tip of her finger beneath his chin, obsidian solidifying once again to arm her other hand with five sharp claws, shadows extending beyond her shoulder blades into two broad, black wings. 

She was every part the demon you used to be.

Dragging a razor down the side of his face, the man whimpered, flinching as she drew a line of scarlet over his brow and down his cheek. A mark. She was going to let him live, so there would always be somebody to remember what happened to those who fought back against the powers of the world. 

“Run,” Phantom whispered, and the man scrambled to his feet, slicing his chin against your claw, before taking off at a sprint in the direction he came, his footsteps fading into the deathly silence. She watched him go, flicking her wrist to the figures before they set to work dragging the various trucks into the shadow, tyres dissolving, medical equipment disappearing as if it were never there, lost to the darkness.

Phantom took a breath before her shoulders shook and she sunk to the ground, her conjurations dissolving into nothing as she was left in total darkness, sobs wracking her chest. You felt her anguish as your own, hot tears still leaking from your eyes as you stood. You wanted to tell her this wasn’t her fault. She didn’t have a choice. He made her do this. And if she wasn’t the one here right now, it would be someone else she cared for so fucking much. 

But you couldn’t say anything. Couldn’t do anything but watch as she tried to stifle her sobs, knowing her job wasn’t even close to being done yet. With hiccuping breaths, your past stood to her feet, sparing a glance at the carnage she’d left in her wake before her head turned to the camp in the distance. Her hands balled into fists, and you remembered the way you had to gaslight yourself into continuing. ‘This is the last mission.’ ‘He’ll set you all free after this.’ ‘Rowan will be safe.’ ‘Jade will be safe.’

Jade.

You felt your heart crack as you thought of her. How could you have forgotten about Jade? Why had Kreva erased everything of another one of his own subjects? Clenching your jaw, you shook your head slightly. 

Not now. 

Phantom had already started striding toward the camp, and you found yourself following her, despite the fear pumping through your blood. You didn’t want to remember this. You’d made a mistake. You didn’t want this. It hurt. It hurt so fucking much. The things you’d done. The people you’d killed. Was this all you were good for? A weapon for Kreva to use at his disposal? A tool to inflict the same amount of agony as those he would use on you in that fucking room? 

You didn’t want this.

You didn’t want this.

Your surroundings started to stutter and glitch as you started to fight against remembering. Fight against Charles hold in your mind. You couldn’t do this. You were happyer forgetting. Happier not knowing who you were and what you’d done.

The darkness swirled like paint mixed on a palette, colours blending and twisting around you, your hands clawing at either side of your temples, clutching your head tightly as if to withdraw him from your mind. 

You didn’t want this.

You didn’t want this.

You didn’t want this. 

You didn’t want this.

Logan’s heart started to race as Charles grimaced, his hand clutching yours ached from the weight of your tight grip, your nails digging into his skin. His other hand came to brush your hair from your forehead between Charles’ hands on your temples, attempting to settle your switching head, swiping his thumb against your brow.

“It’s okay…” he hushed, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “‘S’okay firefly, you’re okay.” His soothing became more desperate as you started to writhe on the table, your back arching as if you were possessed. “The hell’s going on?” he asked, panic rising in his throat.

“She’s… she’s fighting it.” Charles grit, eyes screwed shut as he attempted to navigate your battling mind. His fingers against your head tensed, applying more pressure to either side of your temples. “I’m losing her.”

“Then get her back!” Logan cried, wild fear beating his heart like a warning drum. He couldn’t lose you. He just got you back for Christ’s sake. He couldn’t lose you again. And he was so damn useless when it came to this stuff. He didn’t know what the fuck to do. If you needed somebody taken out, sure, he’s the guy. But mind shit? Brain shit? He was floundering in the same darkness he imagined you were. 

“What did I say about distractions?” Charles barked curtly in response, his neck flexing as he fought to keep you in his grasp. All Logan could do was continue to smooth your brow, whispering sweet nothings as you continued to twitch and bow. A whip of shadow lanced into his peripheral from the corner of the room, and he was barely able to lunge forward in time to shield Xavier from the spear before it lashed through his head.

Pain shook Logan’s system from his shoulder, blood leaking from where your mutation had pierced him and stuck there, sharp, thorny barbs preventing him from breaking free. “Y’alright?” He asked, voice a little strained as his entire body sang with pulsing agony. You must be remembering your mutation. 

Charles nodded, though his eyes still closed, still focused on taming your hurricane of a mind. 

Logan grit his teeth against the wild thrashing of the vine through his shoulder, his arm tensing as it pulls against his strength in an attempt to drag him back. But moving wasn’t an option right now. He knew the intention was to take out Charles, to stop whatever it was he was doing, and he had to remind himself time and time again that this was for your benefit. This was to help you, no matter how much it shattered his heart to see you in so much pain. Not only was he fighting against your own mutation, but he was fighting his instincts not to tear Xavier away from your head and shred him apart for doing this to you. 

Another vine burst through his other shoulder, droplets of his blood staining your skin as you bucked to free yourself. He cried your name, terror lacing his tone as a third vine plunged into his back and through his chest, whipping slightly before pulling back and tugging.

He felt his weight start to shift, his feet grinding against the wooden floor as he struggled to win over the contest of strength. How was something seemingly made from nothing so fucking strong? Barbed thorns sank deeper into his skin, a grunt of pain flying from his lips, sweat beading his brow. 

Jean burst through the doors, either having heard the commotion or after being called by Charles. 

“Logan?!” She started, horrified by the display, but he waved her off quickly. 

“‘M fine. Help Chuck.” He instructed harshly, though Jean hesitated a moment, her eyes wide. He knew why. Of course he knew why. After what happened three years ago, everybody was so damn afraid of you and what you could do. Fear had her glancing frantically between your possessed form and Charles’ struggle. “Jean, please. I– I can’t lose her again…” he admitted shakily, gritting his teeth against another sharp wave of pain from yet another savage tug of the tendrils in his body. 

It seemed to be the push she needed, scrambling forward and around the foot of the bed to stand by Charles’ side, covering his hands with her own and closing her eyes. 

Agony coursed through his system as his knees buckled, looking down to bare his teeth at another frantic thorn that had burst through the space between his joint and kneecap. He’d take it. Fuck, he’d take anything if he knew he was helping you in some way, even as the shadow wrapped around his leg, tearing at the flesh beneath his jeans. He’d endure it if it meant he’d get you back.

Everything was too loud. Like the centre of a tornado, your memories ripped and tore at your brain, slashing through your consciousness, ripping at your brain. Shards of agony, both physical and mental, had you sinking to the floor, hands clamped over your ears, head buried between your knees. Your hair whipped around your hidden brow, a cacophony of screams and torment bursting your eardrums. There was no happiness here. No comfort. Even memories of your brother were laced with poison. Every image of Jade followed up by the night of her death. Her death was brought by your own fucking hands. You’d seen how you’d torn her apart, desperation to help clouding your senses, seeing her as yet another adversary in your way. In a roaring cloud of shadow, you’d shredded her to nothing, and even as you flayed the skin from her body, she smiled. She told you she loved you.

And you’d left her skeleton in your wake. 

You killed. You maimed. You hurt. You’d caused pain. You’d caused anguish. Heartbreak. Agony. It was as Kreva had said. You were a machine. An instrument devoid of any semblance of humanity. You had to be. The things you’d done… you couldn’t have had an ounce of empathy in your body. 

You’d killed the woman you loved.

And you’d tried to kill the man you love. Memories of that day's training had circled your mind like a carousel of torment. Fighting tooth and nail to claw a path out and escape. Landing blow after blow on the man you’d fallen in love with, every strike flung to kill. 

‘He forgave you.’

You tensed, waiting for the following punch to the gut that was taking far too long to arrive.

‘We forgave you.’

A sob wracked from your chest, your head pressing further into your knees. You just wanted everything to stop. The noise, the damn noise, you wanted everything to end. 

‘You’re not alone anymore.’

Your breath shuddered from your mouth, tears and saliva staining your t-shirt. You knew that voice. Her soft cadence like a balm.

‘I forgive you.’

Slowly, and with no small degree of trepidation, you raised your head. Your lungs froze, eyes stuck on the woman before you. Her pearly smile. Her smooth, bronze skin almost glowed in the lack of light. Black hair cropped short by her ears, bright blond highlights making her look like some kind of alternative angel. 

A gold locket shone brightly at the hollow of her throat, a beacon in the void. You shook slightly as she took a step toward you, taking a knee in front of your curled form. 

“Jade…?” You breathed her name like a question, unsure if this was real or yet another nightmarish scenario in which you’d have to watch her die yet again. But the moment her fingertips grazed your cheek, you found your answer.

“Hey, Shadow.”

Tears flowed freely down your face as you looked into her cerulean eyes, so full of earnest forgiveness you felt yourself shatter. The nickname you hadn’t heard in so long breaking down every part of yourself you’d held together by a thread. You surged forward into her arms, finally finding something you could connect with in the warmth of her embrace. 

“How… how’re you here?” You asked shakily, tears saturating her black shirt a few shades darker before you pulled back, shaking your head in disbelief. “How–”

“I’m a part of you, numbnuts. Of course I’m here.” She said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re focussing on the shit Kreva put us through. Focussing on the pain you’ve brought. So now I have to drag your sorry ass through a bunch of happy memories to remind you how much of a rockstar you actually are.” She punched your arm lightly and you laughed a little, the sound split by the lump in your throat. 

“First time I see you in three years and you punch me?” You asked, wiping the tears from your face with the heel of your palm before taking her outstretched hand, your knees groaning at the release of pressure as you stood.

“Yeah well, someone had to slap some sense into you, and since your new boyfriend isn’t here, I guess I’m the next best thing.” She winked, though guilt spiked through your gut. 

“Jade… I–”

“Shadow, I’m dead. If you spent the rest of your life single and sex-less because of me, I’d be so mad at you. Though I wasn’t exactly thrilled when you tried to forget about me, but I get it.” She shrugged, holding your hand in her own. You’d forgotten just how blunt she could be, though it was a breath of fresh air from everyone tiptoeing around you in regard to her death. 

“Can’t argue with that, I guess…” you huffed a small smile, finding a calm sense of contentment simply being here in her presence again. 

“Speaking of your new man, I think he’d be a great place to start.” She grinned at you, waving her hand as the glitching images of your past started to shift and change, settling on a scene you knew extremely well. It wasn’t so long ago you were there, reading in the little window seat of the forest cabin, watching whatever Logan was up to outside. 

The colours of the cabin separated, morphing into the kitchen and lounge, and you watched the ghost of your past self materialise on the sofa, the tartan blanket covering your legs, your nose buried in a copy of Ghosted, the paranormal love story you’d been so hooked on in your first month moving there. Though from the way you were devouring the pages, you realised this must have been your re-read.

Jade raised a brow to you as if to say ‘seriously?’ and you snorted a laugh.

“What? It had a good plot. Sad ending though…”

“‘M’not judging.” Her voice told you anything but.

The occasional crackle of the hearth and swish of flipping pages broke the calm silence before the door to the cabin pushed open and Logan stepped through, toeing off his shoes at the door before closing it swiftly, preventing any further heat from escaping. Your brows furrowed as you tried to remember this specific memory. How had you instantly understood all those times where you’d killed so many and yet this was something you had to strain yourself to recall? Your eyes fell on a small, wrapped package he held in his hands.

What was this?

“Stop thinking so damn hard and just watch.” Jade elbowed you and you shot her a look of faux irritation but acquiesced nonetheless. 

You watched your own ghost look to the door, her eyes lighting up instantly when she saw him, placing her book on the coffee table and rising to lean over the back of the sofa. “Hey Lo’! All done?” She asked, and Logan’s expression softened when he saw her.

Did he really look at you like that?

“Yeah. Should be good for ‘another month or so, weather depending. Come over here a sec, wanna tell you somethin’.” You could see the subdued excitement in his eyes as your past stood from the sofa, draping the blanket over her shoulders, a brow raised in suspicion. 

Logan set the package on the table before his hands cupped the sides of your neck and he stooped to press a lingering kiss to your lips. Your past smiled against him, arms snaking around his neck as he pulled back from you, cheeks pursed as he tried to suppress a grin. 

“What’s up with you?” She asked, eyeing him with amused scepticism. Logan turned her in his arms, resting his chin on her shoulder as she huffed a small laugh. 

“Open it.” He ghosted his lips against her ear, and she leaned back into him, a hand holding his arm around her waist, the other picking up the little, strangely shaped package, brown paper crinkled in odd ways. 

She cast him a glance, Logan nodding back to your hands with encouragement, before you started to slowly tear the paper from whatever was hidden inside. Your heart surged as your memory slowly returned, a fond smile pulling at your lips as you watched your past suck in a soft gasp.

“Logan… this is gorgeous.” 

Paper now discarded, she held a small, delicate pinewood carving of a miniature cabin in her hands, accurate to the exterior of the one you were in right now, log pile and all. Her eyes filled with awe as she turned it gently in her fingers, tracing the artistry with the tip of her thumb. “Is this what you’ve been doing?” She asked, turning to face him, though still looking down at the carving as if she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

“Kinda. Been prepping for the weather too, but most of the time, yeah ‘ve been doin’ this. Happy birthday, firefly.” 

Her head snapped up to look at him, confusion etching her features. “Wait, what? I don’t even know my birthday, how did you–”

He silenced her with his lips moving languidly against hers, his hands falling to her hips, thumb tracing smooth circles against the sliver of skin where her hoodie had risen up a little. 

“I have my ways.” He murmured against her, taking the carving from her hand and placing it down on the table before lifting her against him, her legs instinctively locking around his waist. 

“He found it in the file…” You breathed, the memory fading from view to shelter both you and Jade in muted darkness once again. “From the first time he read it. The first page had all my information, including my date of birth. He didn’t tell me because he didn’t want to bring it up, but I realised after we read it together. That was how he knew.” You explained quietly as Jade’s hand settled on your shoulder.

“You know… he’s out there now. Waiting for you. He loves you so much, Shadow. I know because he looks at you the same way I did.” 

That all too familiar lump started to form in your throat, your hand crossing your front to hold your arm. “He does now but… how can I face him, Jade? Knowing what I’ve done, knowing how much pain I’ve caused. I– I killed you… I ripped you apart and I didn’t even remember doing it.”

Jade’s hands cupped the sides of your face, forcing you to look at her even when you begged to look away. “It was an accident. You saw what they were doing and your subconscious snapped. You felt their pain as your own and you couldn’t fight the urge to save them. I’m not about to hold that against you. Nobody should. You never wanted anyone to go through what we did, and the fact you volunteered for every goddamn mission solidifies that.

“You have saved so many. You have helped so many. And you are cared for by so many. And nobody cares for you more than Logan. You’ll face him because you love him. And you’ll forgive yourself because he forgives you.” Her thumb swiped against a tear sliding down your cheek. “Just like I forgive you.”

Her words splintered through your resolve of self-loathing, shattering every conception you had of yourself and leaving room for something new. Something unfamiliar. 

Hope.

“Now c’mon. This isn’t the only thing I wanted to show you. In case you still need convincing, you have an arsenal of memories to prove me right. And there’s nothing I love more than proving myself right.” She grinned widely, and you nodded, words failing you as she waved her hand again, the colours of your mind swirling and settling to the image of the danger room, and she took your hand again as she showed you every forgotten part of yourself. 

Logan steadied his breathing as your body settled back on the table, the thorns in his body retracting and slinking back into the shadows with your newfound calm. Whatever Jean had managed to do was working, his skin itching slightly as it knitted back together. Though he stayed in place out of fear of making things worse. He didn’t know if approaching you would spark up your torment again, so he stayed still, his knee against the floor, watching cautiously. 

He didn’t know how long it had been since you fell unconscious, but his arms ached to hold you again, to have you pressed against his chest, your face buried in the crook of his neck. He fought every urge to move back to your side, knowing that staying was most likely for the best, and gave you the best opportunity of coming back to him. But that didn’t lessen the longing to feel you. 

“So? Thoughts and prayers?” Jade asked the final memory she wanted to show you fading into the background of your mind. You sighed heavily, unable to deny it anymore. You’d done good in your life. Perhaps not quite enough to outweigh the bad, but you were getting there. She’d shown you the memory of when you first met Marie, forced you to watch as you tried so damn hard to convince her. Sure, you may have failed that time, but that didn’t take away from all the other times you’d succeeded. Besides, she’d found Logan not long after, so that had all worked out for the best anyway.

“Yeah, alright, maybe you were right… just maybe,” you admitted reluctantly, much to the girl’s triumphant laugh. 

“Fucking knew it! Ha-HA! Told you I’d convince you. God, I’m so good at this.” She grinned wildly, and you huffed a fond smile. Though you knew this couldn’t last forever, you were so fucking grateful for the time you’d had with her now. The weight of unspoken words between you had lifted from your chest, though another had settled there.

You had to say goodbye. 

“Jade…” you began, only to trail off instantly. Her grin shrank slightly into something of understanding companionship. Taking both your hands in her own, she squeezed slightly.

“Yeah, I know. Can’t last forever, right? Besides, I don’t think we would have lasted very long anyway. Not if tall, dark and broody had waltzed in a couple years later,” you chuckled tearily, knowing she was absolutely right. 

“I was never blind to how you looked at Ororo, by the way.” You shot back lightly, and Jade shrugged in faux innocence.

“What? She’s gorgeous. Sue me.” She winked again, and a comfortable silence settled between the two of you. “Oh, right. I wanted to give you this. Since you chucked your away and everything and I don’t really need it…” her hands fiddled with the clasp of her necklace behind her, and your heart skipped a beat as the locket fell into her hands, before she placed it in yours and closed your fist around it. 

“I can’t take this.” You muttered, searching her face for anything that would tell you she didn’t want you to have it. But your search came up short. 

“Of course you can. What am I gonna do with it? Not sure it’ll come with you when you wake up, but let’s just give it a go, yeah?” Your breath choked as you saw her own eyes well up, and you realised this must be just as hard for her as it was for you. You wished you could have both. You wished you could take her with you.

But she was just a memory. Sure, she was real, but only in here. 

“Okay…” you nodded slightly, and she tilted your head up with her finger beneath your chin.

“Don’t get stuck in the past. You have a family out there waiting for you. You’re not alone anymore,” tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, your soul cracked as she started to fade. “Oh, and when you take on Kreva, kick his balls for me, yeah? Bastard deserves what’s coming for him.” She grinned wickedly, and you nodded again, your voice caught in your throat. “Give ‘em hell, Shadow.” 

Jade punched her fist in the air as her image faded completely, the rest of your surrounding mind fading into white.

With a sharp gasp, your eyes flew open, seeing nothing but light before you blinked a couple of times, your vision returning as you registered both Charles and Jean looking a little worse for wear.

“Welcome back.” Xavier smiled tiredly, and you sucked in a breath. You were back. You were home. You remembered everything, from the start of your torture eighty years ago to the moment you lay on the bed. Steadily, you pushed your arm beneath you to rise into a sit, bracing a hand on your forehead as it to stem the slight headache from remembering over a century of memories. 

“You feeling okay?” Jean asked a little hesitantly, leaning against the back of Charles’ wheelchair. You didn’t remember her being in the room when you started, but you guessed what had happened in your mind had been reflected in the conscious world. 

“Yeah… I’m okay.” You responded, cricking your neck to the side before a voice you didn’t know you needed to hear called your name from your left. 

Tears lined your lashes as you took in his appearance. Spots of blood stained his white singlet, a large rip had torn through the knee of his jeans, a bloom of scarlet had drenched the fibres. You didn’t need to ask what happened, you already knew.

But the way he looked at you, terrified hope dancing in his hazel eyes, you couldn’t stop the way your legs swung from the bed and you all but leapt into his arms, holding him so impossibly tight as if he’d disappear into thin air. 

But he wouldn’t. Because this was real. He was real. And just as Jade as promised, he was waiting for you.

“Logan…” you breathed in his scent, comfort blossoming where it wrapped around your heart. And Logan swore he’d never let go of you, not as his hand braced the back of your head, his other pressed against your spine as he held you. And held you.

“Thought I lost you for a minute there,” he tried to play off just how utterly petrified he was when Charles said he was losing you, but the way you nuzzled closer into his neck told him you saw right through him, and he didn’t hesitate to press his cheek to the top of your head. Wordlessly, Charles nodded to Jean, and the two of them silently decided to leave you in peace, closing the door behind them as they left. 

Logan shifted you so you were cradled completely in his lap, your legs straddling his bended knees as he basked in your presence, in your touch. He had you. You were back.

You were home.

“What happened in there?” He asked, his tone hushed as you pulled back slightly, only far enough to look him in the eye, his hand on the back of your head skirting to rest against the side of your face. 

“I was focussing on the shit I’d done…” you explained quietly, leaning into his palm. “I was so wrapped up in the pain I’d caused I couldn’t think of anything else.” 

Logan rested his brow against your own, empathy pulling at the strings of his heart. He knew that feeling so damn well, and to know you had experienced that exact same thing tugged at his very soul, harder than anything your mutation had done to him earlier.

“How d'ya get out of it?”

Only then did you brain register the warmth of metal in your closed fist, the slight dig of a dainty chain in your soft palm. Removing one of your arms from around his neck, you opened your hand in the space between you, a smile of fond disbelief creasing your brow as you looked down at the gold locket nestled in your palm. You didn’t question how it happened. Didn’t question how she’d somehow made something materialise from nothing but your memory. That wasn’t even part of her mutation. 

It was something that wasn’t meant to be questioned, even as Logan’s head tilted in slight confusion. 

“Ran into an old ex.” you said by means of explanation as recognition dawned on his face. He knew he’d seen that locket before, and gratitude filled his chest. He’d never get to meet Jade, but he hoped she knew, somehow, just how thankful he was for her. “She approves of you, by the way.” You grinned, and Logan wondered how he’d gone even this long without kissing you.

“I’ll have to find a way to thank her, then,” he whispered, before pulling you in and sealing his lips to yours, pouring every ounce of sheer, raw love he had for you into the way his tongue danced with yours, savouring how your arm returned around his neck and held him there, your chest pressed against his own, his heart almost reaching out to yours. 

He had you back. 

You were home.

[runningincircl3s]

Nothing Ever After

Noah Sebastian x Reader x Vinny Mauro

Chapter 2

chapter warnings: weed (i mean it's folio c'mon)

this chapters pretty short, it was half written as a filler so we can get to where the miw guys come into the story!! :)

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It was getting closer and closer to the day you were setting off to go on tour with Bad Omens, and living with Noah Sebastian wasn’t for the weak. When he would walk around topless, nothing on but a pair of black shorts or joggers and his chain, you’d have to excuse yourself and pace in circles around your room to clear the thoughts from your head. When you were cooking in the kitchen and couldn’t reach something in the cupboard so you’d call him over to get it for you and he’d tower over you as he easily picked up what you were after you had to bite down on your lip so you didn’t lean over and bite his bicep. 

You were certain he knew how you felt about him, he had to be aware that he was hot, and you were both single, and you would both so clearly flirt with each other. It didn’t help that he was so goddamn nice to you all the time, you couldn't tell half the time if he was actually flirting or not.

Orie was currently out shooting a music video somewhere, so you were sat outside by the pool with Noah, Matt, Jolly and Folio. As you sat talking with Jolly about something, you looked over your shoulder to see Folio rolling a joint. 

“That better be the only one, the neighbours were complaining about the smell the last time you stayed over.” Noah warned, and Folio smirked. 

“Yes, dad. Sorry, dad!” He said as he placed the joint between his lips, searching his pockets for a lighter, only for Matt to throw one over to him.

“I was talking with Chris today,” Noah said, “he agreed to come out to sing just pretend with us, but he asked if we’d rather Ricky come out instead?”

You thought you recognised those names, but stayed out of the conversation as it didn’t have anything to do with you. 

“The fans would go insane for either, I guess we could bring Rick out one night and Chris another? Or have Chris join you in a different song? Maybe a heavier one?” Matt suggested.

“Oh he would fuck up artificial suicide if it wasn’t our first song.” Folio said, passing the joint to Matt as they all agreed. 

"Or even hedonist." Jolly added.

“I was thinking for our last night putting malice on the setlist, and having Chris come out for that, then we all go off stage, then we come back on with the motionless guys and play one of their old songs together. Only issue would be Folio and Vin, it’s not like we can have two sets of drums up there.” Noah explained.

“Wait, what’s going on?” You ask finally, “who are we touring with?” you were trying to work out what they were talking about but there was no hope.

“Motionless in white, I thought you knew?” Noah furrowed his eyebrows, “I met Chris, their vocalist, during shiprocked last year and we thought it would be good to do a tour together. We were supposed to a couple years ago but then we kinda blew up out of nowhere and plans got changed.” 

“Oh that’s sick!” You grin, “they’re the guys who made slaughterhouse, right?” 

“They’re the ones.” Folio nodded, “shit, we could all play slaughterhouse together!” 

“We can discuss it all once we’re all together,” Matt said, passing the joint to Jolly, “they probably already have all their shit sorted anyway, I don’t want them to have to make any changes so late.” 

“No neither do I,” Noah sighed, “it’s just so hard because Chris is always busy, I’m always busy, we never get a chance to discuss things like this directly.”

“We can talk about it on Friday when we’re all together.” Matt said, “I’ve gotta go now though, I told Alyson I’ll help her cook tonight, her parents are coming over so I better go and freshen up. I’ll see you tomorrow guys.” 

“Bye, man.” Folio and Jolly nodded.

“See ya.” You smiled. 

“Thanks Matt,” Noah patted his shoulder, “see you tomorrow.” 

After Matt left, Jolly shortly followed and then Folio announced that he was going in to have a snack and take a nap, leaving you and Noah alone. 

“I’ve seen you’ve had your eye on the pool all afternoon,” he observed, “you can get in if you want?” 

“Well I did bring a bikini,” you smirk, “it'd be a shame not to use it... but I can’t get in by myself.” 

“Who said you were getting in by yourself?” He grinned, “go get changed.”

You smiled, getting up from the chair you’d been sat in all afternoon. You walked past Folio, who was now snoring on the couch, you felt pretty bad for him. You did wonder why he couldn’t stay in Matt’s old room, but when Noah opened the door and showed you the boxes and boxes of merch that were scattered around the room, and the fact that there was no bed, you realised why he took the couch instead. 

You searched through the drawer in your room for the bikini you brought with you. You debated taking it when you were packing your suitcase, but then you realised the guys might take a day off to hit the beach or something, so you opted for taking it just in case. 

You put it on, and caught a glimpse of yourself in the big mirror hanging on the back of the bedroom door. Over the years, you had started to become more comfortable in your own body, and you smiled at yourself as you reached for the door handle before making your way back down to the pool. When you got there, you spotted Noah, who was already in the pool looking over the edge. 

“I’m back.” You announced, catching his attention as you put your phone down by the towels Noah had brought out. 

“C’mon, get in!” He said, “It's so warm in here.” 

You sit by the edge of the pool and dip your feet in, and you swear you went into shock, instantly pulling them back out.

“Fuck! Noah it’s freezing!” You shouted, but before you could get away, he had pulled you in with him. “Stop! This isn’t funny!” You shouted at him, but you couldn’t help but giggle, which wasn’t helping your case. 

“Cold waters good for you!” 

“Maybe if you’re insane!” 

“Hey!” He laughed, before noticing how your body was practically shaking, “oh shit, come here!” He opened his arms, wrapping them around you and holding you close to his chest, you could feel the heat radiating from him. 

“See what you’ve done!” You snickered, but he only laughed. 

“You’ll get over the initial shock and get used to it in a moment.” 

He was right, it only took a couple minutes before you were swimming about just fine. 

“So was this here when you moved in?” 

“Yeah, but we had to get some guys out to clean it. Matt insisted he could do it himself but he took one look at the pool and an hour later he was on the phone to some cleaners.” 

“Typical Matt,” you chuckled, “you’ve such a nice place, here.” 

“I know, it's great.” He smiled, “we had to get out of our last place after the band started blowing up, we had some kinda crazy stalkers, this place just felt a lot safer for all of us. But it’s strange now that all the guys are starting to move out. I guess I never thought about what would happen when we all get to this age and want to start families. I kinda had this vision that we’d always live together, we always have done.”

You frowned, seeing how this clearly upset him. 

“Well that just means you have to get some pets! I can imagine a few dogs running around this place, maybe some cats too, a parrot even!” 

Noah smiled, shaking his head. 

“The only issue is touring, I’d love to have some pets of my own more than anything! But I’d hate having to leave them all the time, it just wouldn’t be fair on them.” 

“I didn’t think of that,” you frowned, and quickly changed the topic, “are you excited to be back on the road?” 

“Yeah, we’ve had quite a lot of time off but it isn’t like we’ve had a break, we've spent most of it working on the next album. But I can’t wait to be back on stage, it always gives me this feeling I can’t explain. I love the atmosphere, seeing everyone so connected and having a great time and knowing it’s because of us, that we created this.” 

You noticed the way the water was slowly dripping from his chain, his hair was slightly damp, sticking to his forehead and oh was he getting buff- and is that a back tattoo?

However, these thoughts soon came to an end as Noah splashed you. 

“Earth to y/n?! Are you listening to me are you too busy checking me out?” 

You felt your cheeks redden, you didn’t even realise he had said something? 

“I wasn’t-”

“Yeah, yeah…” He smirked. This bastard was starting to get cocky, and you hated when he was like this. 

You were now sat on the edge of the pool again, and he was slowly making his way closer to you. As you turned to reach for a towel to wrap around your upper body as your legs dangled in the water, you felt a pair of hands on your waist. 

“You look pretty like this, y’know.” He said, his voice just above a whisper. 

He took the towel from your hands and wrapped it around you, pushing your hair out of your face, letting his hand rest on your cheek. 

You’d never really had a chance to look at him this closely, he was beautiful. You noticed every little detail, every freckle, every mole, the colour of his eyes, the shape of his lips- everything you’d never really paid any attention to before. 

You both alowly began to lean in, inching closer to each other. His fingers slithered from your cheek to under your chin, and you let your eyes shut as you felt his warm breath on your lips. 

“Guys!” The both of you jumped, instantly pulling away from each other as you heard Folio shout from inside, “Nicholas is here!”

“What? I thought he was coming tomorrow,” said Noah as he got out of the pool, grabbing a towel to wrap around himself before holding his hand out to you, “we better go in, it’s gonna be getting dark soon anyway.” 

You agreed, taking his hand and getting up, making sure to wrap the towel around yourself before entering the house. 

“Great to see you man!” Noah grinned at his best friend, wrapping an arm around him, “I thought you were coming tomorrow?” 

“My flight got changed, I texted you,” Nicholas frowned, “didn’t you see it?”

“Shit, sorry!” Noah groaned, shaking his head, “I’ve been talking to Chris and then Matt and then… it’s all just getting so chaotic, we leave in 2 days, you know how it gets.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he smiled, before his attention shifted to you, “hi y/n! It’s great to see you again. I heard you’re joining us as our photographer?”

“Yeah, Bryan thought it would be a good opportunity to get some experience touring. Only thing is I’m not looking forward to being the only girl on that tour bus.”

“Yeah that kinda sucks,” Folio added, “we’ll be on our best behaviour, ma’am.” 

You chuckled, shaking your head.

“I’m gonna take a shower, if that’s okay?” You said, directing your question to Noah as the only shower that currently works is in his bathroom. 

“Of course, I’ll be up in a moment to get changed anyway.” 

You nodded and made your way up the stairs, only to be followed shortly by Noah. 

Nick sighed as he sat down on the couch, looking over at Nicholas who was still bringing his things in from the car. 

“I bet $50 they’ll get together on this tour.” 

“Get together?” Nicholas questioned, “You mean get together? Or like… they’ll start dating?” 

“Both.” Nick stated, “they probably would’ve done it in the pool just now if I didn’t interrupt.” 

“No way, he’s still got feelings for her after all these years?”

“It’s so obvious, man. She clearly feels the same way too.”

“What are you talking about?” Noah asked, coming back down the stairs. 

“Who do you think?” Nicholas looked over at Folio and smirked. 

“Hayley again? Nick, man, it’s been weeks! I thought you were over her.” 

Nick rolled his eyes and sighed as Noah walked back up the stairs with a pile of towels. 

“So what do you say?”

“I don’t think it’ll happen,” Nicholas confessed, “Noah’s spent the last 6 years working on himself, building himself back up and protecting himself. I don’t think he’ll do it.”

“You’re gonna owe me $50 in a few months, buddy.” Nick patted Ruffilo’s back as he walked past him towards the kitchen. 

———————————

@miss570 @miamore0570 @dominuslunae @rumoured-whispers @jilliemiw86 @thisbicc @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @lma1986

[quinnyundertow]

Can I ask what got you into writing? I love your writing style and I'm so curious about your process as well.

This is such a sweet ask. I love it. This may be way more than what you were expecting haha. But I’m alone in the hospital and this feels cathartic.

I’ve always loved to write since I can remember. When I was in elementary school I remember getting yelled at and crying because I had to write a story about a thanksgiving turkeys adventure and mine was like twenty pages. They said it was too long and hurry up and I was frustrated because I wasn’t done!

I think what really solidified my love for writing is I needed fantasy to escape. In middle and early high school my parents divorced and I was bullied relentlessly. Gum put in my hair, things thrown at me, called fat at every opportunity. I had teachers that bullied me too for being fat. I was SA’d multiple times, depressed and started cutting. I’ve honestly tried to block most of it out.

The point is I had found anime and a few friends who loved it too. So any opportunity I had I begged friends to do writing journals with me. We’d make up a crack fic plots then write self insert and pass a notebook back and forth between classes every chapter for the next person to write. We wrote for Yugioh, Naruto, Dragonball Z, Fruits Basket popular ones at the time. I also wrote poetry, fanfics and original stories to try and escape anyway I could. Writing was the highlight of my teenage years. But other than that it was hell and you could never pay me enough money to repeat them.

I dropped out of Highschool from the bullying and my depression. But I studied and took a test for Highschool equivalency and then went to college and got straight As. College is nothing like Highschool. No one cares what you do. At least in my experience. I wanted to be a writer or manga artist but my father told me I wasn’t good enough and I wish I wouldn’t have taken it to heart and listened. I stopped writing for like ten years except for periodic ideas in notebooks until this last November.

Jujutsu Kaisen had become my comfort anime and then chapter 236 happened. I was so depressed I decided to try and read fanfics again. I’ve always read a lot of published books and was staggered to see a ton of fanfic writers were just as good if not better than published writers. After reading a ton of amazing works I decided I needed a fix it story that was ultimately happy for JJK and here we are.

Sorry if this was boring or too much. But if you take away something from this take this. Life is always changing. Tomorrow will not be the same as today. That much is guaranteed. If you have nothing left to live for then you have nothing to lose by trying something crazy or new. I was broken down to nothing by bullies, family issues, mental and physical health and I was incredibly suicidal. Somehow I found the will to try again. I got on depression and anxiety medication (still on to this day), worked for a higher education and took a shitty paying job to claw my way back up. My life is far from perfect but despite everything I worked hard to now have a boss babe high paying career and after restarting writing and meeting you all I’ve never been happier.

As far as a writing process I pretend I’m not going to post what I write and write it just for me. I ask myself what do I think would be the coolest thing to happen? What would I want to see next? Then I write it. Most of the time it sucks, or I don’t feel like writing it but I force it out. I make myself sit for 15 minutes and just write something. Then I rewrite it. Keep what parts I liked toss what feels off. Repeat. Eventually I’m having fun and loving the process.

When rewriting I’ll name them things like WICYG Chapter 12.2 for the second rewrite etc. I’ll screen shot my google doc so you can see the insanity haha. Sometimes I’ll rewrite four plus times. At the end of the day I want to love what I write and do it for me. Then when I find people that like it too it makes me over the moon happy. I hope one day to have the confidence to write my original stories in my head out. Writing fics for yall has definitely helped build my confidence as a writer.Thanks again for the ask anon sorry for the life story but I’ve never told people all that and it was healing to get out.

My messy google docs 🥹 Madhouse is Sanity Last Stop lol.

[hollywoodxwhore]

Ours | Chapter 9

Colson x Presley (Original Female Character)

Synopsis: Presley and Colson fell in love accidentally, but they were meant to be. Now that all the obstacles have been removed, they're moving in together in LA. Now, they have all the time in the world for Colson to teach Presley all of the things he knows. This fic is the sequel to Mine, which can be found in my masterlist!

Warnings/Content: Smut (18+), swearing, fluffy romantic shit, col and pres getting married

I couldn't wait any longer.

Colson

Three Months Later

“We’re motherfucking number one!” Rook’s voice is a scream, startling all of us. Somehow, he was the first one to read the text and now the rest of us scramble to grab our phones, reading the group text. 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Cash says, eyes wide as he looks around at each of us. “Is this real?”

“Get used to it,” Slim says with a happy laugh, clapping Cash on the back. “Only number ones from here on out.”

I’m speechless. Normally, my reaction is to jump up and scream, but in this moment, I’m shell shocked. Deep down, I was scared that it was a fluke, that Tickets hit at just the right time and people were so startled by its newness that they couldn’t help but listen. Releasing Mainstream Sellout was, quite honestly, terrifying.

It’s darker than Tickets. It’s my diary, essentially, my soul bared for my fans and critics to analyze, to judge. As much as I want to make music just because I love it, as little as I want to care about fame, I wanted a number one so desperately that I was almost insane about it. Could we do it again? Were we only good for one pop punk album? Was the Machine Gun Kelly craze here and gone before we knew it?

Realistically, I know I have fans that will ride til the end, no matter what type of music we make. But what if we lose some? What if they’re sick of the pop punk vibe and want rap back and can’t wait until we release another rap album? I’ve been torn about this album for a long time. We delayed the release date twice before Slim finally told me to fuck off and gave permission to release it.

And here we are with our second rock album going number one.

“Colson.” I shake my head a little, coming out of my daze to realize that Presley has been saying my name repeatedly. I look at her sheepishly and rub the back of my neck. My fiancee’s beautiful green eyes sparkle with amusement and she chuckles. “Where’d you go, baby?” she asks, resting her hand on my shoulder.

I reach over and pull her into my arms, squeezing her tight. She climbs into my lap, embracing me, and I close my eyes. “Sorry,” I murmur into her hair. “Just doesn’t feel real. I didn’t think it was going to happen,” I confess.

I can feel her smile against my neck. She presses a kiss there. “I did,” she says simply, then gets off my lap. I look at her for a moment and I realize that she really means it. She never doubted for a second that we’d go number one. 

When Megan and I were together, she tried so hard to convince me that pop punk wasn’t the way to go. “You can’t just switch genres,” she said, that grimace that was so often on her face apparent. 

I frowned. “We’re not switching genres,” I argued defensively. “We’ve always done rock. We’ve always had guitar and singing on our albums.” It occurred to me all of a sudden that maybe Megan had lied to me. If she’d listened to our old stuff like she claimed she did, then she would know this. She would never say something so insulting.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m bored.” I was working; we were in the studio, but when she stood up and took off her dress before crawling into my lap, I knew work was going to be delayed. I sighed and tried to pretend that she hadn’t hurt me. 

Now my girl sits beside me beaming with pride as I hug and high five my band, celebrating our second number one rock album. Megan was wrong in so many ways. The longer I’m with Presley, the more and more the pain of Megan fades. Pres is healing me without even meaning to.

Later that night when Presley and I are celebrating in our bed, her back to my chest with my hand wrapped in her silky black hair, I feel such a burst of love for her that it’s almost overwhelming. I keep one arm wrapped around her waist as I kiss her neck, groaning. “Presley, baby, I love you so much.”

“Col,” Pres whines as I fuck into her, her ass shaking against my hips.

“Pres,” I pant. “I don’t want to wait. Let’s get married.”

“Right now?” Presley cries, curling her hand around my wrist, but I don’t stop fucking her.

“Not right now,” I say with a breathless laugh. “Let’s fucking go to Vegas and just do it.”

“Colson,” Presley says, but it melts into a moan. “Are you serious? I don’t want to go to Vegas,” she says, bewildered. “T-too many people.”

I laugh into her neck, biting down gently. “Then let’s go to the courthouse,” I pant. “Cash and Liv can be our witnesses.”

“Please don’t talk about my brother when I can feel you behind my fucking belly button,” Presley groans, and I start to laugh so hard that we lose balance. Presley falls forward onto her stomach and I follow, rutting against her. We’re both too close to stop this and have a real conversation, so I speed things up, slipping a hand beneath her hips.

Presley whimpers and fists the sheets as I rub circles in her clit, and I hold off until I feel her start to clench around me. We come at the same time, our sounds mingling in the warm air around us. When we’re done, I roll off of Pres and grab some tissues, breathing hard.

Once she’s cleaned up, I pull her onto my chest, tip her chin up, and kiss her. I kiss her with everything in me. With all the love and pride and joy I feel. Presley melts on top of me and makes a soft, helpless sound, and I know I have her. She doesn’t want to wait either. I want her to be my wife. 

It’s crazy to think we met in September, got together in October, and now, in April, I’m ready to marry her. I guess it’s true what they say: when you know, you know.

“Cols?” Presley murmurs, breaking me from my thoughts. I look down at her and bite my lip. She looks extra beautiful like this, hair messy and eyes glassy with pleasure. I can’t help but kiss her swollen lips once more. “I don’t want a big wedding,” she says.

“No?” I ask, hope rising in my chest.

Presley shakes her head. “No. I don’t even want one,” she admits. “Did you mean it? Do you really want to go to the courthouse? Because if that’s what you want…” I can tell just by the way she talks about it that she’s relieved by the thought of not having a huge wedding. She likes simple things, and a courthouse wedding just might be perfect for my girl.

“Pres, I’d marry you however and wherever and whenever you want,” I tell her, tucking her hair behind her ear. “All I care about is that I’m marrying you.” 

Presley bites her lip. “You won’t be disappointed if we get married at the courthouse?”

I shake my head, grinning. “No, baby. I’ll be thrilled.”

“We’ll have to put off our honeymoon,” she says. “Too much to do with the new album.”

I shrug. “We’ll figure it out,” I tell her, stroking her cheek. 

“Col?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.” Her voice is small. My brow furrows and I tilt my head a little so I can see her better. The blinds are open and the light from the moon casts a silvery shadow over the bed, illuminating Presley’s face. The shadows of her eyelashes are outlined on her cheeks and she looks almost ethereal, like she couldn’t possibly be real.

“For what?” I ask, a little breathless with my love for her.

“For knowing me.” She bites her lip and my heart skips a beat. I’m quiet, giving her time to sort out her thoughts. “For not wanting to change who I am but for embracing it. I was so scared when I met you. Of everything.” 

I know this is true. It breaks my heart to know she lived in fear for so long. I lift her hand to my lips and press gentle kisses to her fingertips.

“You showed me I don’t have to be afraid,” she says. “You showed me that I deserve to be loved for exactly who I am.”

“Pres,” I say, voice thick with emotion. “Fuck, baby. You showed me the same damn thing. You know that, right?”

Presley laces our fingers together and nods. “Col, I want to be with you forever,” she says. “I don’t want to live in a world where I’m not yours.”

“Jesus,” I say, shaking my head in awe that someone like Presley could ever love someone like me. I cover her mouth with my own and push a hand into her hair, keeping her face close to mine. Our hearts pound fiercely against one another as her hand slides to my bicep and squeezes. “Marry me,” I say as I break the kiss, “tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Presley laughs right against my mouth, and I love the sound and the taste of it. “Fuck, Colson. I’m going to be your wife tomorrow?”

“Hell yeah, Presley Baker,” I say, and the sound of her name paired with mine makes my stomach flip in the best way. And then, we stop talking entirely, practicing how we’ll consummate our marriage tomorrow. 

Presley said she would marry me today on three conditions.

One - Cash and Olivia will be our witnesses.

Two - We still dress up in our wedding clothes (yes, Presley already has her dress).

Three - We still get to say personal vows. 

I agreed to all three, so here we are, preparing for our wedding in two different places. I slept at Cash and Olivia’s last night so Presley and I wouldn’t see each other on our wedding day until the ceremony. I’m still here, Cash securing a flower to my suit while Olivia and Presley get ready at our house. 

“You sure you want to marry my sister?” Cash jokes as he takes a step back. He’s grinning, dimples carved into his cheeks. “Looks good, man.”

I glance at myself in the mirror. No one can blame me or act surprised by my pale pink suit. I love how it looks, and my hair looks damn good, too. I can only imagine how stunning Presley is going to look. We’re going to have a small “reception” after the ceremony with some of our closest friends. Sam will take pictures, and then we’ll go home to our house as husband and wife. 

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life,” I admit to Cash as I slip into my shoes. My hands are sweaty as I tuck my vows into the inner pocket of my coat. “You’ve got the rings?”

Cash pats the pocket of his dress pants and nods. “Safe and sound. You ready?”

I take one more look in the mirror. In less than an hour, I will have a wife. “Ready,” I croak.

When we arrive at the courthouse, the girls are already there. Presley is hiding away somewhere while Olivia, Cash, and I talk to the Justice of the Peace. I’m half listening as she explains how the ceremony will go. It’s very simple: the Justice says a few words, we share our vows and exchange rings, she pronounces us married, we sign the marriage license, and boom. 

“Are we ready to get started?” the Justice asks. 

I swallow hard. “Ready,” I say. 

The Justice of the Peace is a woman in her fifties with locs and eyes that crinkle in the corners when she smiles. “Congratulations,” she says, patting my shoulder. 

Olivia and I follow her into the courtroom. Cash is going to be walking Presley down the “aisle”, so he goes to find her. I wipe sweaty hands on my pants as Olivia and I approach the front of the room where the Justice stands. 

“Ready, Col?” Olivia asks, reaching up to fix my hair. “You look great. I’m so happy for you.” Hey eyes brim with tears and I pull her in for a hug.

“Thank you,” I say tightly, trying not to cry. I release her when someone clears their throat, and then, all of my attention is on the woman who is going to be my wife in just a few minutes.

I knew from the first time I saw her that Presley was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. As she stands in the doorway, her arm wrapped around her brother’s, I realize she’s even more beautiful than I ever thought possible.

Her dress is her in every sense of the word. It’s white, per tradition, but it’s sexy as hell while still being classy. Lace drapes over her tall frame as the dress hugs her curves, emphasizing her hips and breasts. Her long hair cascades down her back, pearls decorating the top of her head. Her hair is split in a tight middle part with the top smoothed back behind her ears as the rest hangs loose and flowy. Her makeup is flawless, making her eyes pop, and I can tell she’s wearing heels as she’s closer to Cash’s height than usual.

I have to remind myself to breathe as she smiles at me, bouncing on her toes with excitement. I let out a breathless laugh and press a hand flat to my chest, trying to calm my erratic heartbeat. Cash is beaming as they start to walk toward me. Every second that passes that she isn’t in my arms makes it harder and harder to breathe. This woman is going to be my wife.

Finally, after what feels like forever, Cash and Presley stop in front of me. Cash wraps her in a fierce hug, whispering words to her that I can’t make out. Then, he throws his arms around me in a huge bear hug. “You’re about to be my brother,” he says thickly, and tears sting in my eyes as I hug him so hard it almost hurts. He pulls away, steps aside, and then, all I see is Presley.

She steps forward, giving me her hands, and I let out a breath. Along with it come a few tears, but I don’t even care. I’ve never felt love like this, never felt emotion like this. “Hi baby,” she whispers, and I can tell she’s emotional, too. Her eyes glitter with unshed tears.

“Hi,” I say back, voice rough with emotion. “My god, you’re stunning.”

“You’re gorgeous,” she breathes, and then she’s in my arms. I hold her close, breathing in her intoxicating scent, and close my eyes. After a few moments, we pull back and step in front of the Justice, who’s smiling.

“Wow,” she remarks. “I’ve done this many times and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen two people more in love than the pair of you.”

Presley and I look at each other and beam.

“We are gathered here today to join the two of you in marriage,” the Justice says. “You have chosen to read your own vows. Who will start?”

“Me,” Presley says quickly, and I let go of her hands so Olivia can hand her vows over. Presley clears her throat and I notice her hands are trembling as she unfolds the paper. She meets my eyes and then looks down at her paper. She takes a deep breath and begins.

“Colson Baker. Less than a year ago, you were my celebrity crush. You still are, if I’m being honest. In the time I’ve known you, you have become my everything. My confidant, my inspiration, my safe place. The love of my life and my best friend.

“It’s hard to think that I lived without you for as long as I did. My eyes and my heart were closed to so many things before you. I didn’t know love like this actually existed outside of romance novels, but Col, you’re my real life love story.

“Colson, I promise to always love you and to always like you. I promise to always laugh at your jokes, even the cheesy ones. I promise to be your biggest fan and supporter. I promise to always be backstage or front row at your shows, screaming the loudest for you. I promise to always be your muse and your sounding board for ideas. 

“I promise to build a family with you when we’re ready. I promise to make you so happy that the pain you’ve felt in the past is a distant memory. Colson, I promise that I will always, always be yours, baby. I love you more than life.”

When she finishes, we’re both crying. It’s messy and almost pathetic, and we both laugh wetly when our respective witnesses hand us each a tissue. Once we’re a little more put together, the Justice asks Cash for my ring. He steps forward and hands it to Presley. 

The ring is black with roses on it, engraved on the inside. Presley slips the ring onto my finger. It fits perfectly and I nearly lose my breath looking down at my wedding ring.

“Colson, you may proceed with your vows,” the Justice says.

I nod and swallow hard, pulling my vows from my suit. I unfold the paper and clear my throat, looking at Pres for a long moment before looking at the paper. “Presley Maeve Carver,” I begin. “You came into my life when I needed you most and you never left.

“I had pretty much sworn myself to a life of solitude when we met. I remember when your brother told me to stay away from you. I was so mad, but now that I look back, I can’t blame him. I wasn’t on the right path. But Presley, you helped me find the path I so desperately needed.

“Pres, you’ve shown me what unconditional love is. You’ve shown me that every part of me is worth loving, even the dark parts that I’ve tried so hard to keep hidden. You make me feel so safe and so wholly myself. 

“I promise to love you no matter what happens. I promise to continue to write songs about you. I promise to always stare at you whether you’re dressed like this or wearing no makeup. I promise to hold your hand and kiss you as much as you want. I promise I will never let you down.

“I promise to be the best father to our children and the best husband to you. You make it easy, my love. I can’t wait to spend an eternity with you. I love you, Presley.”

More tears. After another couple of tissues, I slide Presley’s wedding band onto her finger, joining her engagement ring, and we take hands again. I’m shaking but I’m so beyond happy.

“Colson Baker,” the Justice of the Peace says, smiling up at me. “Do you take Presley Maeve Carver to be your wife?”

I look down into Presley’s emerald eyes. “I do,” I say firmly. 

“Presley Maeve Carver,” the Justice continues. “Do you take Colson Baker to be your husband?”

Pres squeezes my hands and smiles widely. “I do.”

“By the power vested in me by the state of California, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the Justice says. “Colson, you may kiss your bride.”

And fuck, do I.

Presley is in my arms in seconds, her body tipped back as I kiss her, tender and passionate and so full of love. She clings to me as we kiss, our tiny crowd cheering, and god, I don’t ever want to come up for air. I never want to let this woman go.

But I never have to.

Taglist:@triplexdoublex@jaxbreaker@mgklove99xx@jinx-on-mars-19xx@iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker @anonymousme86 @whiteleoqueen @feroniakutenpuu@hxllywoodwhxree

[supernovafics]

✧∘ଂ ࿐ ཾ 𝑳𝑬𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑭𝑶𝑼𝑹. ✭・.・✫・゜・。.

pairing: ex-bestfriend!steve x fem!reader

word count: 804 words

warnings: none

series masterlist | last part — next part

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

❝ 𝒊 𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒆. ❞

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Dear Steve, 

We had so much history and I threw it all away after that night. 

I didn't talk to you at all before I left, even though you tried so many times to come over. And when my parents would tell me that you were at the front door and asking for me, it was easy to use the excuse that I was way too busy packing to hang out or do anything with you; and they luckily didn’t think there was anything more to it. 

School wasn’t any different and I avoided you like the plague. Which was also kind of easy to do because our schedules were pretty different. 

I try not to regret a lot of things in my life, but I do truly regret how I pushed you away. It was a shitty move to pull, and now I really wish that we had just talked then. 

The day I left I was almost certain that that was when we’d have to talk to each other again because our parents would probably have some sort of long-winded goodbye with one another, and we’d be stuck awkwardly standing next to each other. 

But, you weren’t home when we left. 

My parents were surprised by that, and I just made up some lie about how we already said goodbye the night before. 

A part of me felt a little upset that you weren’t there, but I knew it was deserved. You not being there sealed the deal and confirmed my thoughts that we were no longer friends; which, after what I had been doing to you for the past couple of weeks before I left, made sense. 

But, I didn’t allow myself one moment to process that or feel truly sad about it all. Instead, when we got to California I immediately threw myself into school so that I could just forget about you and everything else that happened between us. 

It sucked having to be the new kid again, but the stress and nervousness I felt from that made it easy to make you a distant memory in my mind. 

I joined a bunch of clubs that pretty much resembled the ones I was in at Hawkins, except they also had a film club here which I, of course, had to join too. I made new friends that I really liked, and I even got a boyfriend that summer, some guy that had been in my English class. 

As much as it did hurt not being friends with you anymore, I convinced myself that maybe it was for the best. Because my life in California was good and it was normal, and everything was okay. 

We were coming up on almost a year of not talking to each other when I was forced to go back to Hawkins. Your mom was throwing this big party for your dad to celebrate some huge promotion he got, and my parents made us go. 

Inevitably, I knew that we would end up talking at some point during that night. However, I was still surprised when we finally did cross paths after about an hour. 

You asked me about California and I told you it was good; classes, clubs, boyfriend, etc. I think I also made some joke about how the heat there was slowly making me go insane and we awkwardly laughed at it. And then I asked you about how you were and how you and Nancy were doing, and you told me that you two had broken up, which I was honestly very surprised about. 

Of course, what happened last Christmas didn’t come up once. Now I don’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing because I could tell that we both kind of wanted to “clear the air.” 

But, we didn’t. 

The rest of the conversation was pretty surface level and it was like we were walking on eggshells while talking to each other and neither of us wanted to admit that. It was almost as if we were forcing this pretend version of things being “okay” with us, when they actually were far from it. 

It was after that party and on the flight back to California, that I finally realized that our friendship really was dead and that ever being able to go back to the way things were was no longer possible. 

And I know that may sound stupid because we hadn’t talked for almost a year, so, of course, that meant our friendship was dead. But, I have to admit there had been a small part of me that, during those long months where we hadn’t talked to each other, thought we could somehow pick back up where we left off whenever we did talk again. Because we were best friends. We knew the ins and outs of each other, so that had to happen, right?

It’s actually not completely surprising that I was wrong about that because I was wrong about so many things when it came to us. 

Sincerely,

Y/N

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

next part

[glorious-blackout]

My Year in Gigs

Seeing as we're nearing the end of the year, I thought I'd look back on the amazing shows I've been lucky enough to attend in 2023 and resurrect my Post-Concert Depression with a definitive ranking 😅💚

Eurovision Semi Final One - Live Show: Absolute dream-come-true experience. Loved every minute, the crowd was so kind and supportive towards every act, and I got to see most of my faves steal the show and advance to the finals 🥰 

Muse (Dublin) : My second Muse gig of the year was even more of a blast than the first! Absolutely nothing could have prepared me for the joy of finally seeing Butterflies and Hurricanes and Apocalypse Please live 😭 

Queens of the Stone Age: Josh Homme arrived onstage, called us all crazy motherfuckers, expressed a sincere desire to get fucked in the ass by a Scottish dude, then called his guitarist a 500-year-old vampire before flirting shamelessly with him. 10/10, no notes. Oh yeah, and the music slapped too.

Käärijä: Half hilarious stand-up show, half incredible party with insanely fun, energetic songs. One of the most enjoyable gigs I’ve ever been to and I would pay good money to fly to Finland solely to see Käärijä play a gig on his home turf. 

Muse (Bellahouston Park): My boys were incredible as ever and I had a genuinely great time at this gig, but it gets demoted a little due to the torrential rain cutting our setlist short and making me ill 😅 Would have been an easy third place had technical difficulties not robbed me of the chance to see Verona live... 

Go_A: If you’ve never been to a Ukrainian Folk-Rave before, I can highly recommend it! Go_A were simply phenomenal with great energy that had us dancing all night. Highlight of the show was Ihor delivering a badass flute solo while Kateryna went backstage to recharge her awesomeness. 

Sparks: These guys have been making consistently excellent music for decades and still have more energy and enthusiasm than most young bands could ever dream of possessing. Such a wonderful set filled with amazingly quirky songs both old and new. 

Joker Out: It says a lot about the high quality of shows on this list that I’ve had to rank these guys so low. In any other year they’d be a clear contender for top three! The energy from both the band and crowd were insane, the boys were clearly in awe of having a venue full of Scots singing along with them in Slovene, and I need the Demoni scream injected directly into my veins 😈 

Arctic Monkeys: This ranking has almost nothing to do with the band themselves who delivered a great show, but looking back on it I’ve just had to accept that I wasn’t having a good time during a large chunk of this gig. The crowd in my section were rowdy to the point where I couldn’t hear or see anything and I was wasting all my energy trying not to get shoved. My depression was also playing up to the point where I was struggling to get excited over songs I dearly love and I just felt unwell and burnt out all night. The second half was a definite improvement as we’d moved to a calmer area by the time they brought out The Car songs, but by the end I was just exhausted and desperate for home. Would see them again in a heartbeat in a more intimate indoor venue, but I think I’ll avoid any of their big stadium tours in future 😅 

Busted: Honestly, I had a much nicer time at this gig compared to Arctic Monkeys. The nostalgia alone of singing along to ‘Thunderbirds Are Go’ at the top of my lungs is always a special moment. But I can’t pretend for a second that Busted’s music comes anywhere close to the quality of Arctic Monkeys’ recent output, so they’re a very reluctant last place on my list of generally incredible gig experiences 😅 

Best Support Act: Nova Twins by a country mile. I may have fallen slightly in love with Georgia and her incredible bass skills. It was easy to see why Muse invited them on tour because they seemed so at-ease in a massive arena 😊  

Here's to (hopefully) more amazing gigs in 2024! I'd love to hear about some of the great shows that you guys attended this year as well 🥰💖

[mackeydoodledoo]

Burning Sun: Chapter 7

Pairing: Rosalie Hale x (Fem!)Reader

Summary: You've seen her in the school halls, the cafeteria, anywhere really. You, for the longest time, hoped... Wanted to be noticed by Rosalie Hale. However, you give up when you realize it was getting you nowhere... Throughout high school and just some time after the high school years, Rosalie’s true feelings come to fruition.

Chapter Warnings: Light-Angst, Light-NSFW

Chapter Theme: The Ghost of You - My Chemical Romance 

Key: Italics = Thought, +*+ = Time Skip, Bold/Italic = Thought but out loud

A/n: None

--------------------------------------------------------------

“I’m...” Rosalie begins

As she looks at you, the anxiety builds as you hold her gaze...

“I’m a vampire y/n...” Rosalie finally confesses

You just stand right in front of her, not moving an inch.

“No shit Rosalie,” You say, no tone in your voice

Rosalie looks at you; absolutely dumbfounded. It wasn’t the response she was expecting.

“You never eat when you’re around me nor my friends, when I hugged you back when I was the only person at your sleepover; how I realized you were absolutely freezing to the touch,” You explain, “I saw how your golden eyes illuminated in the shitty school lights, and how pale your skin was compared to some of my pale friends....”

“W-wait Y/n, I don’t get it... You’re saying-”

“I knew the entire time,” You confess

“Why-Why didn’t you say anything then?!” She asks

“I wanted you to be the one to tell me,” You answer, “But, you never did so... I didn’t say anything. Plus, I didn’t say anything out of fear that I would be killed for knowing.”

“Hah, you’re dumb,” Rosalie continues to play the stubborn blonde, “My family wouldn’t kill you. We’d... Simply welcome you into the family... Like they did with Bella...”

“Makes sense since she’s around Edward a lot of the time,” You reply

“You wouldn’t want to be around vampires Y/n, you’d be playing a dangerous game,” Rosalie continues, “I’m already tired of being roped into one thanks to Bella...”

“Can’t help that you’re always coming back around to me,” You sigh under your breath

In the brink of a second, your back hits the bed mattress, wrists pinned to both sides of your head. 

“It’s not my fault that I find myself unable to stay away from you, no matter how far you are from Forks,” She growls

“How am I irresistible to you?” You ask, attempting to break free frothier hold, “I was the LEAST popular kid in that entire school.”

“Because you excite me!” She confesses

*Rosalie’s POV* You could hear the blood rushing to her cheeks, turning them a shade of pink. 

“H-how do I excite you?” She asks

“You were willing to do things for me despite some situations put you in danger,” You say

It’s your blood... I want to taste it... So damn bad...

But you knew it would drive you absolutely insane if you tried to taste her blood. You were resisting out of fear of killing her. 

“Come on, all crazy asses did shit for people they cared about,” She scoffs

“But last night, at the race, you stood up for me,” You bring up, “If you really didn’t care about me you wouldn’t have done anything.” 

“That was my chivalric ass,” She continues making up excuses

“Liar,” You say, “I know you feel something for me...”

“Fuck you,” She says 

She lifts her head to attach her lips to yours. You sigh as you lean your head down as Y/n puts her head back onto the bed. You take your hands off of Y/n’s wrists to wrap around her head. 

“Feisty aren’t you?” You ask, smirking

“Shut up,” She replies, panting for air

+*+

You wished you could have limited stamina again. 

Falling asleep in your embrace would be the best feeling in the world...

“You can always pretend to sleep you know,” Y/n wakes

“But, it’s not the same as actually sleeping,” You chuckle

 “I know but, the feeling would be there right?” She asks

“I don’t know, been by myself for a long time,” You say

“Hmm...” She hums, “Come on...”

She switches onto her backs she swoops you into her embrace.

“Here,” She says, “How about that?”

Absolute bliss...

You close your eyes as you let your focus go to Y/n’s heartbeat. You sigh as you felt her fingers trail through your hair. 

“What do you want to do today?” She asks

“Don’t you have assignments due?” You ask

“I do but I also think we have to get you back to Forks, I’m pretty sure your family is worried about you.” She says

“I can hunt on my own for a few days,” You sigh

“You’re in the concrete jungle.” Y/n tells you, “There’s nothing but humans here.” 

You didn’t want to admit but she was right, you were on a college campus with hundreds if not thousands of humans...

“You’re right,” You sigh

You begin getting up to get yourself ready to go, but Y/n drags you right back into her.

“Who said we need to leave now?” She asks, smiling

+*+

*Y/n’s POV* Eventually you felt overheated underneath the blankets and began going through your remaining schoolwork for the week. 

“I’ll be done with this in about ten minutes and then we can begin driving back to Forks,” You tell Rosalie

The entire time Rosalie was sitting around your apartment whilst you continued to work through assignments early before the week began. 

+*+

Even though you barely did anything throughout the day other than sitting at your laptop all day, you were exhausted. 

“If at any point you want me to drive you can,” Rosalie tells you, “I don’t need sleep.”

“We’re about halfway through the drive already and you’re the one being dropped off so, would look absolutely stupid if we arrived to your place and I’m the one in the driver’s seat,” You chuckle

It was mostly an awkward silence after your last statement. 

“Rosalie,” You call to her

“Hmm?” She replies, not taking her eyes off of the setting sun underneath the treeline

You turn your head to look at her for a second, but you saw the sparkle against her skin. You turn your head back to focus on the road.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me that you were a vampire?” You ask, “We’ve had many one on ones.”

“It’s complicated,” She says, “There are other vampires that hold a higher status over my family and... They would kill anyone and everyone who knows of our existence...”

“Down with the hierarchy,” You chuckle, trying to joke

“You don’t understand how powerful they are, especially with their guard,” Rosalie’s tone turns serious, “They would absolutely annihilate you and my family.”

“Alright alright, point taken,” You put your hand on her thigh

Rosalie jolts her head to your hand. You knew you felt her eyes stinging through your head.

“S-sorry,” You clear your throat, taking your hand away

“How long have you known?” She asks

*Rosalie’s POV* You were trying to prevent yourself from freaking out... Like you did on Royce and his friends the night you almost died. So, you just simply asked a different question. 

“Awhile,” She answers, “Almost four years at least...”

“You... You didn’t tell anyone right?” You ask

“I didn’t. Like I said, I waited for you to tell me so I kept quiet about it,” She reiterates 

+*+

*Y/n’s POV* As you put your car in park, you stare at Rosalie as she does the same for you. 

“Thanks for... Standing up for me,” Rosalie breaks the silence

“Anything for you,” You answer

Rosalie leans forward, leaning over the console.

“Rose... What are you doing?” You ask, slowly, but unknowingly leaning forward

“One last thing before I leave,” She smiles

Oh... A kiss...

But, you let it come. You don’t stop it, and you don't push her away. You welcome it.... Like an old friend. Rosalie pulls herself away to let you process the gesture. 

“Oh Rosalie,” You sigh

You lean back towards her: catching her lips. 

“I’m-I’m willing to try,” You say between kisses

“What?” She asks, pulling away to let you breathe

“I’m willing to try us,” You repeat, “But, I need to know if you’re willing to try too.”

*Rosalie’s POV* Almost instantly you nod your head, smiling as you lean forward again, kissing Y/n.

“I’ve missed this so much,” You confess

Y/n chuckles as she gives you a lighter kiss.

“I think your family is waiting for you, your dad especially,” Y/n sighs in disappointment

You look out the front windshield and there they were” Carlisle and Esme, standing in the headlights of Y/n’s car.

“You’re welcome in my place anytime Rose,” Y/n half-smiles

“Thanks Y/n, I’ll see you later,” You pull yourself away unwillingly

*Y/n’s POV* You watch as Rosalie exits your car and up the stairs to her forest mansion. 

Maybe... It will be different this time.

Chapter 8

[the-archangel]

Empty

day 6 of Cyber Hanami from the prompt 'Enjoy the Silence'

Kerry's back - hurrah

In the months since Mikoshi, nothing but good things had happened to V, he had moved up in the world in every way, so why did he wake up some mornings feeling like shit, unable to even get out of bed?

 It wasn’t the damage caused by the relic; that was on its way to being under control thanks to a friendly Arasaka doctor, made all the friendlier by V’s boyfriend’s seemingly bottomless pockets, and it wasn’t the pressure that came with inheriting a snake-pit like the Afterlife, he thrived on that – if anything it’s what kept him sane(ish).

Kerry had been worried for a while, though tried not to show it, he’d soothe the fixer through bad dreams and night sweats, even when it meant them both being wrecked – and not in a good way – the next day, but it was beginning to tell.

 Petty arguments could break out over nothing and escalate quickly; they both had a temper, though up until recently it had never been aimed at each other. Kerry had spent enough on therapy to have learned to keep his in check, to just walk away, but V’s was explosive, though always directed inwardly, punching walls until his knuckles bled or driving randomly through the city at insane speeds, Kerry knew he would never hurt him, but he was scared he might hurt himself.

This morning, after a particularly disturbed night, V’s back is snuggled against Kerry’s chest as the Rockerboy holds him tightly, gently stroking the sweat-drenched strands from the younger man’s forehead. Though not particularly a morning person, Kerry does enjoy the moments after waking, the time to contemplate, to think through the day, to connect with himself, and with V. Today he should be going into the studio after lunch, the label are already getting pissy with him not turning up when he’s supposed to, so once more won’t matter.

A sapphire-blue glow indicates plans silently being assembled and appointments being both made and cancelled, today he’s going to get the bottom of his lover’s problem of it kills him, and do everything he can to help fix it.

-

V lay huddled under the sheets, eyes closed but only pretending to sleep. Kerry seemed like he wanted to have a ‘conversation’ and there was no way he was up for that right now, so he lays still with his eyes tight shut until he hears the sound of the shower. He really does love Kerry with all his heart, he feels bad for being a burden and feels bad for even thinking that because Kerry never makes him feel like a burden. He wishes that he didn’t sometimes wake up feeling like this, lost and empty, and longs for the mornings when they both laugh and chat, planning their day over coffee instead of him just wanting to hide away.

The bathroom becomes quiet and a slightly damp, gentle hand runs across his shoulders and a hushed voice rasps, “C’mon baby hop in the shower, I’m taking you out for breakfast.”

Breakfast does sound good and the fingertips gliding up and down his back are both soothing and invigorating at the same time, V chances opening an eye. As the intoxicating view of Kerry’s glistening, tanned body and smiling face comes into focus V feels some of the tension leaving him, he remembers that he’s safe, he knows he’s loved, only the concerned look that Kerry is trying unsuccessfully to hide spoils the picture.

Kerry gets dressed while V showers, wanders downstairs and leans over the counter playing with the radio, trying to find something upbeat to start the day with. He closes his eyes and sighs as strong arms wrap around his waist and a shaggy, wet head nuzzles into his shoulder. “Hey V, good morning beautiful.”

V appreciates his mainline not asking how he’s feeling, Kerry knows by now that it’s not something that he can articulate, it’s too complicated, too raw and if he’s honest, just too personal. “Morning Ker, thought you were going into work?”

“Nah, not today. Got this kid I’ve been hanging out with, thought we’d spend the day together.”

Despite himself, V grins into Kerry’s neck. “So what’s this kid done to deserve personal attention from World famous Rock God, Kerry Eurodyne?”

Kerry turns in V’s arms and places his hands gently onto his chest, “Oh nothin’….yet,” he rumbles, raising a suggestive eyebrow, “but first, breakfast – I’m fucking starved!”

-

When he realises where Junior is taking them, V squeezes Kerry’s hand and touches his lips to his cheek. The last time they’d been here together was nearly two years ago, just after the Us Cracks debacle, though V knew Kerry still popped in from time to time. That first night, Kerry had left somewhat abruptly – a pattern for their first few meetings – and V had been surprised at the immediate vibe they had going on, and that he missed the rockerboy as soon as he was gone.

They sit at the window in the very same seat, but this time their fingers are entwined and Kerry’s eyes never leave V’s until the waitress hovers into view and Kerry orders two of the usual and some pancakes. “Y’know,” says V. “this is the place where I knew I’d caught feelings for you.”

“Why d’you think I left so fast?” V looks shocked, but Kerry continues, “I’d seen that look a thousand times, on lovesick groupies, crazed fans or new inputs,” gripping his mainline’s hand tightly he looks deep into his emerald eyes, “but it had been longer than I can remember that I’d seen it on someone I was beginning  to care about and…fuck V it scared me.”

V gazes thoughtfully into Kerry’s eyes, then frowns and drops his gaze to where their hands lay on the table, “Johnny wasn’t impressed, he thought it was a real gonk move.”

“And he was right,” Kerry agrees, “but I suspect he understood why I did it.”

V was grateful for his mainline’s honesty, it was one of the things he valued most about their relationship, how they could be so open with each other. “It’s one of the things I miss about him Ker, the convos we had about you, about Samurai and your past.”

“It’s not always a preem idea to know everything about a potential input Vince,” Kerry chided the fixer, “keeps it fresh having a few secrets left to spill.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

Kerry waggles his eyebrows conspiratorially as he takes a mouthful of his breakfast.

-

Half an hour later, they are sitting on a non-descript bench in Corpo Plaza watching the corpo-slaves rush about their business. Kerry is sat huddled into his hoodie, shades in place despite the rain, keeping a low profile – an effect being somewhat spoiled by him having his legs draped over V’s lap and his arms wrapped around his shoulders.

“Go on I’ll bite, why’re we here?”

Kerry points to the top floor of a nearby building, “Y’know what’s up there?”

“Course, that’s Kovachek’s offices, had cause to visit there a couple a times.”

Kerry raises his eyebrows but doesn’t comment, “The morning before I invited you to the boat thing, I sat here fucking seething, must’ve got through 12-15 smokes while I put this awesome plan together in my head of how to get back at him,” V’s arms reach a little tighter around his lover’s waist as he reflects on that day.  “I was runnin’ on adrenaline and still in the midst of a destruction kick, so who’s the first person I’m gonna think of to help?”

“Johnny?”

“Bullseye! Johnny,” he agrees placing a gentle kiss on V’s stubbly chin, “but not this time, it was you, the only person I wanted to do that with was you V. You woke me up, dunno…something switched back on when I met you, you saved me – and you’re still saving me every fucking day.”

V touched his lips to Kerry’s temple and they hang like that for a long moment, “Y’know, Johnny was real impressed with you that day, could see you’d got your spark back,”

“What, he was fucking there…?”

V chuckles, “Nah, not for all of it, but he was on board with the destruction for sure, would definitely have liked to have helped.”

Now it’s Kerry’s turn to chuckle, “C’mon, one last place to show you.”

-

Junior drives them back through the wet, neon-lit streets towards Heywood, at the edge of the City Centre the cab stops at the end of an industrial-looking back street. Despite being mid-afternoon the sky is dark and the stuttering street-lights make the place seem even more gloomy, Kerry leads V between two units and down some rain-slicked stairs ending in a door over which hangs a purple neon sign The Silence.

The door opens – as most of them do for Kerry Eurodyne – to reveal a surprisingly bright and noise-filled space. The great and the good of NC congregate here to make deals and plans away from the prying eyes and ears of the less ‘fortunate’  NC residents. The Rocker leads the fixer by the hand to an empty booth and soon drinks arrive, tequila for Kerry, bourbon for V.

“I remember this place, I think,” frowns the younger man, “just seems … familiar.”

Kerry nods, “Nova! Wasn’t sure if you would. The first time we went out after you came back this is where we came. Turned out to be a gonk idea…”

“Yeah, I was still feeling like shit and the alcohol and meds were not a good mix.”

“True, but…it was also the first time you opened up, told me about Mikoshi, Alt, the guy at the Afterlife who made you the deal … and about losing Johnny…”

Kerry touches his hand to V’s cheek at the last of his words, their eyes meet and after a briefly pained look V’s drop again to their hands clasped over the table. “I miss him Ker,” he murmurs quietly, “I spent months trying to get him out of my head and now he’s gone I miss him, like really fucking miss him.”

Kerry drops his hand covering his own and V’s but remains silent, encouraging his mainline to go on.

“I feel like there’s somethin missing, like he took a part of me with him and it’s driving me crazy that I don’t know what he took, that I don’t know if I’m even me… shit I’m not making any sense…”

A gentle hand strokes his arm, “Firstly, I can’t pretend to know what it’s been like for you, shit no one can except maybe that Arasaka guy and he’s not talking.” V smirks at that, Kerry continues, “Secondly, that fucker was killing you babe, you had to let him go…”

“…but it’s so quiet in my fucking head. Alt said the body was his, that it listens to him, it’s like my own fucking body doesn’t even want me here sometimes.”

A few eyes turn their way at the sudden outburst, V doesn’t notice, so Kerry ignores them. “I didn’t know you before V, I don’t know what kind of man you were, but I know that Vik and Mama Welles still treat you like family, that Misty calls you every few days to look out for you, that you’re a good man – scratch that – an amazing man and that if losing a narcissistic parasite in your brain made you who you are then it can’t be all bad.” Kerry grins that V can offer a cautious smile at that. “And I’m gonna find you someone to talk to, someone who can help, not gonna take no for an answer.”

V hadn’t realised how much he needed this, for someone to listen to him without judgement, to help him, he’s not going to cry, but there’s a hint of a hitch in his voice, “I remember what’s special about this place…”

Kerry’s grin hitches up a notch, “You do?”

“Mhm, you told me that you’d look after me, that you’d always be there for me, that you loved me…”

“And not a damn thing’s changed, except now I’m even more sure that it’s true. You ready to go home?”

V looks around the bar at the bright lights and glittering patrons sharing laughter and witty banter and realises he’s not quite there yet, but hopeful he will be soon, “Yeah, let’s go home.”

[blue-aconite]

Questions for your birthday celebration before I go edit the next Jas and Jake blurb for you to enjoy. Let's pretend Taylor didn't help me pick some of these, okay? Okay.

Five books you wish you could read for the first time again?

Favorite food?

If you could have any superpower, what would it be?

Besides Glen, who's your celebrity crush?

Who was your first celebrity crush?

Who would win should Sweden and Denmark go to war (yet again)?

Do you love me?

How did you come up with the idea for Let Me Drown?

Why do you insist on breaking my heart with Let Me Drown?

What does it feel like to officially be entering your late twenties?

Now for this banner thingy. I know my entire blog is light blue, but I like dark bottle green for myself and with the quote "you can't save someone by loving them, but you can love them while they save themselves." Love you, Fe!

Shh, I'll pretend I don't know! Love ya! Here's a banner for you <3

The Book Thief. Pride and Prejudice. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. A Game of Thrones.

Sushi. Ramen. Any kind of pasta. Steak. I could go on but we’d be here forever.

Shapeshifting, invisibility and just generally being an enhanced superhuman.

Oh, I’d say Robert Pattinson, Idris Elba and Miles Teller.

Robert Pattinson. I saw Edward Cullen and fell in love. Then I kind of forgot about him until The Batman hit theatre and BAM, he was back in the game!

No one. The countries would wipe each other out and no one would be the winner. (You and I are fleeing to Australia.)

How is that even a question? I love you an insane amount.

I honestly don’t remember exactly how it came to be but I’m pretty sure it was inspired by @writercole’s ‘exile.’ And then I shared this lil thought in the discord:

Bob watched as Hangman opened the door to his truck and helped Zoe into the passenger seat, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. She smiled at him, that sunshine smile she always had when she was a kid and Bob would come home from school and sit with her at the kitchen table.  “He’ll hurt her. It’s what he always does.” Rooster comes up behind him, stopping only when they’re shoulder to shoulder.  “I’m not thrilled it’s Hangman. But I have to trust her. So if she wants to date Hangman, that’s what’s going to happen. And you’ve got a lot of nerve.” Bob keeps his eyes on the couple by the car, watching as Jake gets into the truck and reverses out of the parking lot.  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Rooster snarls, taking a step back. “It means that she told me. About last summer. It means that I know what you did. I know you don’t like Hangman. But right now, he hasn’t hurt her and you have.”

It has obviously grown since that, but I’m pretty sure this is where it all started. Thea wasn’t even Thea at the start but I remember not really vibing with Zoe either. It was just a placeholder.

I don’t know. The angst just comes naturally to me. And if it makes you feel better, I’m breaking my own heart. And I can’t tell you how pleased I am that you’re feeling this way. Your emotional response is the highest praise.

GOOD. I am excited. I don’t know what it will bring but I’m looking forward to them. I don't know why people are so worried!

[violaceum-vitellina-viridis]

letters to the other side, pt. 2

it’s the first week of november, 7 years after you killed yourself. (i remembered, on october 9th. i tried to pretend i didn’t. i listened to emilie autumn and tried not to remember what it was like to answer that phone call, to stumble into work that day with a numb riot in my chest.)

i spent most of october discomfited and unsettled, and i know that part of it was just the migraines casting around for reasons to make me miserable, but i know that wasn’t all of it. october has always been a strange month, full of contradictions. the anniversary of losing you only made it stranger.

i wonder if i’ll ever stop hating myself for how i failed you, just like everyone else. i wonder if remembering that i was mentioned in your last words will ever stop feeling like a condemnation. i wonder if you meant it that way, and if it even matters now – or if it really mattered then. i ache, when i think about those words. not just the mention of me, but the rest of it. knowing how much you hurt, not just what i already knew, but how much you suffered and how much we all failed you. how matter-of-fact all of it was. 19 pages of laying out your life clear up until you were rescued from your stalker-kidnapper, clear-cut and with none of the usual insanity or whimsy i remember you for. 

i still sometimes wonder if that last manifesto stopped where it did because your heart did. i don’t want the answer. 

there are days where having lost you feels settled – an old wound, one that was deep but has healed. but there are other days, like one in the middle of october, listening to the birthday massacre, where it was like having a sucking chest wound; like it was yesterday, not 7 years ago, like it was never something i expected. like we never knew you would kill yourself. 

i tell my love, a woman you never got the chance to meet – a woman i think you’d love, and just knowing that makes me want to crack my own ribs open with the grief of it – that i can promise her she made a difference to the young queer kids she mentored in her past. i tell her i know this because i used to be one of those young queer kids, and when i was, i had you. 

having you saved my life.

you saved my life, and even knowing there was never, ever any way i could have saved yours doesn’t take the bone-deep mourning out of the fact that i couldn’t. even if i know that nothing we could have done would have guaranteed your life, it does not mean i do not sometimes stumble into a hurt so deep it feels bottomless because you saved my life, and you’re gone.

part of me wants to be angry at you. a larger part of me knows that i never could be – we’re not angry at you, love; you’re the greatest thing we’ve lost. we knew we’d lose you. i knew how you’d done it, well before anyone told me. there was relief, when the grief settled – knowing that you weren’t hurting anymore was a comfort. but never anger, not with you. with your family, sure; with myself, absolutely. but not you.

i don’t have a neat, poignant way to end this letter like i did for wayne. i’ve had more time to write poetry about his death, but yours is still too new, even after 7 years. it might never be old enough for that kind of poetry – too raw until i’m dead myself.

i miss you, mariah. i don’t want you back – you deserve your rest. but gods above, i miss you.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Opposing Counsel (S.R.)

Summary: Spencer runs into his childhood rival at trial for a case. Now that they’re older, they found a new way to resolve their differences. Request(s): reader is just as smart as him so they often competed and argued. later spencer runs into her on a case & their old habits return, just for it to end in smut A/N: I made Reader a lawyer because of course I did. Ignore legal inaccuracies/flourishes. I’m too tired to think about the law. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut. Just smut. (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Fingering, penetrative sex, hate fucking, courtroom proceedings, death penalty/institutionalization mention Word Count: 4.4k

MASTERLIST

No matter how much time I spend in courtrooms, they have never felt comfortable. They are, by nature, brimming with the worst kind of energy. It is impossible to not feel the pain that flows from all of their openings, and the way the walls scream with the combative words in proverbial fights to the death. Or, in some cases, literal fights to the death - just like the one I was currently winding up.

“You may read the verdict.”

When the judge gave the instruction, I didn’t look at the jury. I didn’t need to look at them anymore because their sympathy from this point on was useless to me. They had already made their decision, and I was confident it would be the right one.

It was.

“We, the jury, find the defendant not guilty of murder in the first degree by reason of insanity.”

“So say you all?” The judge drawled as almost imperceptible whispers spread through the courtroom like a virus.

“Yes, your honor.”

Those whispers, the blend of the extremes of the spectrum of human emotion, haunted me every day. I heard them any time my brain tried, although you wouldn’t know from looking at me. Lawyers have to be heartless, you see. There is no other way for the system to work. We must defend the evil and the cruel, just in case they are innocent. And if you have a job like mine, then you have to force yourself not to care even if you know they aren’t innocent. The law doesn’t punish criminals; the law punishes those who get caught in a web they cannot wiggle free from.

My job security will always be bad timing, bad people, and law enforcement’s penchant for overzealousness. Any agent who pretends like their ineptitude isn’t responsible for the freedom of bad men is a liar. It is the kind of lie that will burn like acid that leaks from your tongue and fingertips. That’s why lawyers like me have built a layer of callouses and scar tissue, so that when they spew their venom, it doesn’t hurt like it should.

Spencer Reid already knew this about me. He was a profiler, after all. He had to know about the dynamics of defense attorneys and what is required of our psyches. Not only did he know that this was true because of the fact that I sat in front of him and behind the defendant’s table, he knew this because the two of us were far from strangers. I’d known him all my life, and not much had changed about my psychology since we’d seen each other last.

Spencer Reid knew I was a heartless bitch, but that didn’t stop him from leaning over the bar separating me from the spectators and whispering, “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“Yes,” I whispered back, not letting him see the smile that took over my face, “I’ve won.”

“Court is adjourned.”

My office received a call the next morning that didn’t surprise me in the slightest. He introduced himself as an old friend who was looking to make an appointment to see me. Despite not having an availability, I told my secretary to schedule time for Spencer on my lunch break. While some might believe I made that decision because it was my only free time, that wasn’t the main motivation. I chose lunch because the other employees wouldn’t be there.

Sure enough, when 12:30pm finally arrived, so did Spencer. My door was already open when I saw him with my secretary who seemed puzzled by his appearance. I don’t think she’d been expecting a sweater vest and converse. But I was. It seemed so perfectly suited for the naive boy I remembered.

“Hello, Dr. Reid. You can lock up when you leave, Jess.”

Sensing the tension in the room, she quickly followed my advice. I heard the pattern of shutting doors until all that remained was the soft creaking of the floorboards as Spencer approached me.

“This room suits you.”

I didn’t look up from the files I was arranging. I knew there would be a catch to his statement. He wasn’t complimenting me, because he didn’t do that. It was going to be an insult, and I wasn’t going to entertain the idea that it would catch me off guard. My plan to irritate him was already working. I could feel the anger like spikes reaching through the space between us.

“Nice to see you haven’t changed,” Spencer sneered. “Still a cruel, heartless bitch that only cares about stroking her own ego.”

“Oof. Such harsh words from the sweet little baby,” I laughed. I still hadn’t met his eyes, although he couldn’t seem to take his off of me. “Is someone still mad about yesterday?”

Spencer’s hand grabbing the file in my hand and shutting it made it difficult to ignore him. It was a bold move that admittedly impressed me. I knew my smirk would give him satisfaction, but I flashed it to him, nonetheless.

“He’s going to spend the rest of his life locked in a mental institution, drugged into compliance, just so you could get your not guilty verdict.”

The eye contact between us was bristling with so much hostility that it almost felt like I was back in the courtroom. Except Spencer wasn’t a client or the opposition in the usual sense. Standing from my seat, I walked around my desk until I stood next to him.

“Oh, you know what, you’re right, 187. I should have just let you guys murder him yourselves. Silly me!” I mocked with a ditzy, playful tone that strongly contrasted the topic of conversation. But if he wanted to act like I was an airhead, I’d give him a little show.

Spencer didn’t like my theatrics. He swiftly stepped forward until he could feel my body heat. If he expected me to cower and retreat, he was mistaken. I quite liked the proximity; it made it easier to meet his eyes. I could read everything from that position.

“He murdered innocent people,” Spencer said through clenched teeth. He missed the point, as usual.

“And he’ll pay for it,” I not-so-kindly reminded him, “Just not with his life!”

The rage was evident in every inch of him. Even a fool would be able to tell that Spencer wanted to break me. But there was something else in his eyes, too. A darkness not related to the man whom neither of us would ever see gain.

“God, you’re so fucking ignorant,” he muttered, raising his hand to run it through his hair. I don’t think that’s what he wanted to do with it, though. If my suspicions were correct, and they usually were, he wanted to use that hand on me.

“Don’t get too excited now. You might give yourself away,” I teased as I closed the gap. It was for two reasons— mainly to test out my theory and derive new evidence, but also just because I thought it might be fun to touch him.

I was right about both things. I knew because the holster on his hip wasn’t the only bulge that pressed against my stomach.

Spencer eventually deduced my motives, or at least I’m assuming that was the reason he let himself touch me. Granted, he only did so to shove me back. There wasn’t the faintest glimpse of regret or sympathy in his eyes when I stumbled back in my heels, or when I hit the wall.

“You think you’re so clever,” he muttered, fixing his sleeve that had been disturbed by the action. And although it had been his decision to build distance between us, he closed it shortly after.

When he didn’t come close enough for my preferences, I grabbed his tie and pulled the fabric taut. He didn’t move, preferring to let it dig into the back of his neck over giving me what I wanted. I bit down on my lip to try and stifle a giggle, but he still heard it.

“What’s funny about this to you?” His tone, while stern, wasn’t as devoid of emotion as he might have hoped.

“Nothing. It’s just... you know, Rule 1.8(j) of the Model Rules for Professional Conduct only prohibits sexual relationships with a client,” I explained with a cheeky little shrug. “It doesn’t say anything about the opposing party.”

“You’re a terrible lawyer,” he deadpanned.

I couldn’t disagree. I didn’t even try; I accepted the conclusion openly in my mockery. “And I still beat you. How does that make you feel?”

The distinct sound of grinding teeth hit my ears, and my eyes followed the flow of tensing muscles in his jaw. It was strange, seeing him in short bursts every few years. Each time, his face seemed sharper and colder. I wondered if he thought the same about me. In fact, I wondered a lot about how he saw me. In part because of moments like this, where an obvious tension flooded the room.

What he wanted was obvious enough in the erection he sported, but I didn’t know why, and the thing about lawyers is that we really love those technical details. And what better way to find the information I sought than a few interrogatories?

“Does it make you want to hold me down and punish me?” I asked, mostly just to see his reaction. When he didn’t give me enough of one, I continued. “To force me to beg?”

His feet faltered instantaneously at the suggestion, and he stepped forward like my hold on the tie was suddenly too much for him. I hadn’t pulled him any differently than before; he just wanted to come closer to me.

“Do you want to fuck me, Spencer?” I cooed.

I wanted a response, and a response is what I got. Spencer raised his hand again, and this time he didn’t stop it from touching me in the slightest. Despite the fact that I was already against the wall, he pressed his hand flat against the top of my sternum and pressed me impossibly closer to it.

“Shut up,” he growled in such a low register I almost didn’t recognize his voice. 

“That’s not a no,” I laughed, the feeling reverberating through his hand that tried to stop the air from returning to my lungs. If it was meant to stop me, it had the opposite effect. I’d never wanted to goad him on more than I did in that moment.

“Do it, you fucking coward. Fuck me like you’ve only dreamed about.” I said through teeth clenched just like his. When he bowed his head forward and our noses touched, the words continued to fall from my lips with a renewed vigor. “Show me what pathetic things you think about doing to me when you’re alone at night.”

My voice was steadily climbing in volume until I was shouting in his face. Even through the forceful words, I felt his breath on my lips. “I want to hear you scream my name the same way you do when you have your hand down your pants, begging me to help get you off!”

I’ll never know whether it was the volume or the content that broke Spencer’s resolve, but as soon as the last breathless word left my mouth, he forced his lips against mine with enough force that, despite my resistance, my head smashed into the wall behind me.

I let Spencer kiss me as hard as he wanted for approximately 10 seconds. I granted him the smallest win so that when I did finally kiss him back, he’d already exhausted half of that pent up rage. Sure enough, the sudden response from me shocked him enough that he opened his lips, granting my tongue access.

I was a little surprised when he didn’t bite me, but he didn’t. Instead, he just let the kiss devolve into the filthy mess it was always destined to be. His hand on my chest slid up over my neck to hold my jaw up to him, and I gave myself permission to touch him back. Judging from his startled reaction, I don’t think he expected me to immediately grab his dick, but he really should have.

The jump was enough for him to break the kiss and look at me with eyes displaying a very satisfying desire.

“How long have you wanted to do this, 187?”

He paused just long enough to lick his lips at the sight of me biting down on my now bruised bottom lip, but then had the decency to remember that he hated me.

“You know my name, bitch.”

The lovely nickname paired well with his hand forcing its way under my skirt. A low moan rumbled through my chest, and I didn’t bother hiding any sign of my own eagerness. It would have been pointless, considering how quickly he hooked two fingers under my underwear and pulled it to the side.

“But it sounds so nice,” I sighed, retaining my eye contact as I recalled the first time I’d beaten him at something. “Go ahead, try calling me 188 and see how it feels.”

Spencer decidedly did not like that taunt, although two his fingers roughly entering me gave me a bit of a conflicting signal. I could barely care about his response as he started to thrust into me. My head hit the wall again as I lost myself in the feeling that I could only get with him.

“Keep it up and I’ll leave you right here,” he muttered, his lips ghosting over my ear, “dripping wet and begging me to fuck you.”

The parallels to my theories about the contents of his fantasies were not lost on me. I was sure that in his mind, he was winning. He thought that he was turning me into a pathetic, compliant little thing. But in reality, he was giving me everything I wanted. Normally, knowing that I was the one in control would be enough for me, but this time I wanted him to know. I wanted to rub it in his face that even with his fingers steadily pumping into me, I could beat him.

I would always beat him.

“I bet you’re good at it. Have to compensate for the score difference, no?” I teased between heavy breaths.

Spencer immediately removed his hand. I’d expected as much but didn’t regret my decision.   Especially not when those fingers forced their way into my mouth. If I were a betting woman, which I usually am not, I would wager that a large part of him regretted not tasting me himself. To prove to him that this was still the correct decision, I closed my lips around the already soaked digits and worked my tongue between them.

“You think you’re so fucking cute, don’t you?”

Shoving them further into my mouth and holding my tongue down, he continued to spit vitriol-laden words directly in my face. “I don’t know why you even bothered studying anything. You were made for this. You look so good with my fingers down your throat.”

I wanted to laugh, but a moan shook around his fingers, instead. It would work well enough for my purpose, considering it made him smile.

“Bet you’d look even better with something else there.”

The second he voiced my own thoughts, I sprung into action. My hands must have been quicker than he thought they would be, because he looked down at the commotion to find that I’d already undone his belt. He unfortunately didn’t let it go any further.

“How very unbecoming of you,” Spencer chuckled. Removing his fingers from his mouth and pulling his hand from my sternum, he took a step back to look at the state of me, my skirt still bunched up at my hips and my chest filling with the air he’d deprived me of.  

Then, with a slight pout, Spencer just shrugged.

“I changed my mind,” he said as he started to walk away. “Clearly you aren’t good at this, either.”

For a moment, I almost let him leave. But then I realized that if he left, I would only partially win. While he wouldn’t get to have what he really wanted, he would have had my submission. And if I was going to leave this encounter with less dignity, I might as well get some sexual gratification.

“Worried you won’t be able to satisfy me, Dr. Reid?” I called, dragging out his name with his favorite little honorific.

Spencer froze mid-step. I could actually see the tension hit him, and I watched with glee as he let it slowly wash away. Glancing over his shoulder, his eyes shamelessly still fell to my exposed thighs. His thoughts were so apparent, his desires so suffocating in their flagrancy.

“You talk too much for your own good.”

“That’s still not a no,” I sang.

He tried not to show it, but a playful glint appeared in his eyes and in the shine of his smile. As if to wave a white flag, Spencer turned back and began approaching me, this time slowly and with purpose. When he was back in arm’s reach, he didn’t stop. He pressed his body against mine again and I basked in the warmth of winning.

“Give me one reason I should give you anything that you want.”

Then he touched me with no violence. His fingers drifted up my neck and under my chin, lifting it to force me to look up at him no matter the height difference. All he wanted was my neck bared to him, granting him even the faintest hint of dominance in this encounter.

I could lean into that. A little bit, anyway.

“Because you want it even more than I do,” I said with shaky breath. It was obvious that he didn’t believe me, and I was growing impatient at his own insecurities. Allowing my legs to fall open, I hooked one around his to pull him closer.

“Yes, that is me admitting that I want it.” I said as clearly as I could. When he still showed hesitance, I went straight for the kill. He would consider it a win, but I would just consider it leverage.

“I want you, Spencer.”

Watching his pupils blow wide at the sound of his name on my tongue was far more gratifying than it should have been. Thankfully, he didn’t gloat for long. He had better things to do with his time, like attaching his mouth to my neck and covering it with open-mouthed kisses.

While his hands quickly undid the buttons on my blouse, I finished what I’d started earlier. It was such a blur, an organized chaos of buttons and zippers that ended with us both significantly more exposed in more way than one. After all, we’d spent so much of our lives as outright enemies. Opposing parties unwilling to meet in the middle.

But when we did finally meet, with Spencer lifting me by my hips against the wall and slamming his into me with full force, it didn’t feel like losing at all. My body welcomed him; he found no resistance or resentment between warm, pulsing muscles.

There was a surprising familiarity in his embrace. There was something quite like winning in the sound of his groan in my ear. A pride in the knowledge that he’d found pleasure in the person he wanted to break.

“Fuck, Spencer,” I purred, my arms wrapping around his head and bringing his lips back to my jaw. My hand on his neck felt the hair rise and the skin become rough with goosebumps at the way his name sounded that time in the throes of passion.

“Shit,” he eloquently replied. But that wasn’t his only way of answering; his pace became just a little bit quicker, and my hips rocked in tandem with him. Spencer was slurring a number of hushed curses against my neck, and I didn’t bother trying to decode them.

Not like they were sweet nothings— and if they were, I definitely didn’t want to hear them. My eyes were set on one goal, and one goal only.

“You better let me finish. I’m not here for altruistic desires.”

Spencer laughed at the suggestion, taking the brief pause to readjust his grip on me. That action alone, the sudden pull of gravity causing him to bottom out inside me, was enough to tear moans from me.

“Let you?” Spencer mocked, running his nose over the side of my face before he growled, “I planned on making you.” With his new hold on me, he followed through on that promise. Each time our hips crashed together, I heard the precarious tapping of the diplomas and certificates hung on the wall. If they fell and broke, it would have still been worth the mess.

“Oh, God,” I whined, my nails digging into his neck and scalp as I struggled to keep up with the way his body moved. I would have never thought he would be the better of us when it came to physical activity, but there I was, shaking like a leaf in his arms.  

“It’s okay. You can admit how good I make you feel,” Spencer mocked with an obvious amusement in my undoing. But, in his typical fashion, he wanted to parade that joy so that I couldn’t ignore it.

It almost hurt, the way his fingers gripped me with crushing force. Almost, but not quite. It was the perfect amount of pain to knock me onto the edge, and I stayed there for a moment with my mouth hung open, taking hungry gasps of air. I wanted to say his name, but I couldn’t. Everything was nonsense in my mind that was focused only on what he was giving me. That smug bastard knew it, too.

“Say my name so everyone can hear, Miss 188.”

With his permission, my body called for him in desperate, keening cries. And then I couldn’t stop, his name flowing over and over from my lips in a way he would probably never grow tired of. He had stopped kissing me, focusing all of his attention on fucking me through my orgasm and watching my face as he did.

I didn’t even mind the way he looked at me like I was nothing without him. It almost felt like that in that moment, like I would fade away without his hands holding me down. Once I did return to Earth, and my senses, I scoffed at the goofy grin on his face.

“Fuck you,” I muttered.

“You already are,” he responded without his smile changing at all. There were worse things to look at, I suppose.

Normally I would have grown tired of waiting at that point, having gotten what I came for. But somehow Spencer kept me interested, and within seconds, I felt the familiar tension building again. However, it became obvious just as quickly that he wasn’t going to last that much longer.

And honestly? I didn’t hold it against him. I would take the frustration of an incomplete orgasm. He’d already given me one more than most men would. But apparently, that wasn’t enough for him. Because we both knew I would be capable of giving him one, and that would make the score a tie.

We didn’t like ties. Someone had to win. Spencer wanted to win— badly. I could feel as much in the way his hand came to where we met, slipping in the mess of our arousal just to find its way to my clit.

“W-What are you doing?” I asked even though I knew the answer.

With a wild look in his eyes and between heavy breaths, Spencer said through that same fucking smirk, “Winning.”

I hated the way it worked. That stupid, smug bastard got what he wanted almost immediately, my body betraying my own sense of self-preservation and throwing itself at his mercy. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to regret it. How could I? He looked so fucking beautiful with his head thrown back as he lost himself in me. The feeling of his arousal spilling inside of me and filling me like this body belonged to him was one that would burn into my brain. Like Spencer, I would never forget the way he looked when we fell apart together.

But when his hips finally stilled and his head fell forward onto my shoulder, we remembered the truth. There was nothing to like about one another besides the fight. This battle was over, and it had been won. I wouldn’t admit it, but Spencer took the victory by a landslide. Surprisingly, though, he didn’t gloat or force me to admit it.

No, with an insane amount of tenderness, he looked me in the eyes and asked, “Are you alright?”

“…What the fuck did you just say to me?” I barked back with furrowed brows.

“I asked you if you’re alright,” he repeated, not at all catching the hint. So much for thinking he was clever for like, two seconds.

“Do not get sentimental on me right now, 187, or I swear to god I’ll expose you to the world.”

Then, all at once, we were back to the way we’d been before.

“Yeah, you’re fine.”  Spencer drew his arms back and let me fall. I barely avoided a sprained ankle by grabbing hold of the shelf beside me, and I swear I heard him laugh at how badly my legs were shaking.

While the two of us tried to compose ourselves, we barely looked at one another. Every now and then, our eyes would meet in quick glances. It wasn’t exactly awkward, it was just that we didn’t have anything to say that hadn’t already been done. By the time he opened the door, I felt a smile creeping over my lips at the newly formed memory. It could have gone poorly from that point on if we’d let it.

But I decided that I wasn’t done playing with Spencer Reid.

“Hey, Spencer,” I called just before he turned the corner and left my sight.  

“What?”

“Call me later.” The instruction left no room for protest, and he didn’t seem to have any. It did, however, call for an explanation that I was happy to give. “I have a few other arguments that need to be won.”

Spencer’s nose scrunched as he tried to hide the pleased smile that I definitely saw.

With feigned indifference, he answered, “Fine.”

(Tell me what you thought of this fic here!)

(DISCLAIMER: All persons fictitious.)

[enigmatic-robin]

Doesn't Mean I'm Not Here

Jonathan Crane/Edward Nygma (Platonic or Romantic)

Words: 1119

A/N: Edward's fear when exposed to fear toxin is that he will forget the people he cares for or that they will be unrecognizable to him. this is based on his fear toxin response in the Codotverse because realistically that is where my Scarecrow and Riddler hyperfixation came from

Few things we’re more well known than the fact that nobody liked the Joker. Almost every Rogue who’d worked with him at one point or another were double-crossed, leaving a trail of bad blood that showed in his inability to ever have the same partner in crime in more than one criminal pursuit. Heroes, civilians, rogues, it didn’t matter; he was equally hated.

Except Jonathan Crane. He hated him most of all. For now, at any rate. Missing chemicals, cases of mass hysteria spanning blocks with seemingly no cause, and a bat breathing down his neck. That was what Jonathan had to deal with for no rhyme or reason, his fear toxin being used across the city without him knowing a damn thing about it. 

It was driving him insane.

There was no pattern to the attacks, randomly timed and placed with no way for Jonathan to discern when the next would be. Three days of only sleeping when his body gave out on him, of searching tirelessly, only for every lead to be a dead end.

Edward helped how he could; getting coffee for him, talking incessantly to help keep Jonathan awake when he needed it, leaving water and protein bars next to him as he tried desperately to do something, anything about the clown using his work. Even still, Edward had a job too.

He didn’t realize how much of his drive was coming from Edward’s help until Edward had to leave for the day.

Midway through the day, Jonathan was working as he had been one moment, only for a sudden exhaustion to hit him. He felt like a puppet with his strings cut. Jonathan leaned forward, letting his glasses slip down his nose and clatter to the desk, before standing unsteadily and taking a few steps to the couch. He’d ignored his body long enough, he wouldn’t be able to help himself in this state. 

—

Jonathan woke up rather abruptly to banging on his door. That wasn’t that common, most of his peers either came to the window or knocked like the civilized people they pretended to be. Except, of course-

“Enough! I’m coming, for fucks sake, Harley-“ he grumbled, undoing the locks to open the door. He didn’t really expect what he saw on the other side.

Harley stood there, grinning with teeth tinged pink with the blood from her split lip. A bruise was blooming on her cheekbone in the shape of a closed fist, almost covered by her hair which tangled out of her pigtails. 

“Hiya Doctor Crane, I was just in the neighborhood and I found something I think belongs to you” Harley explained, rocking on her heels merrily. Jonathan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“If this is about the fear toxin, it’s not mine. A certain clown commandeered my chemicals”

“Oh, no, this ain’t that. I heard about that, I’m just coming to return this to ya”

Harley bent down, pulling something up and dragging it into view and- yes. That was definitely his problem, wasn’t it?

“Edward?”

“We was just talking and suddenly everyone was acting kinda weird. I’ve got some toxin resistance, but this guy? Not so much. He started babbling and I figured I should bring him home. He wasn’t too keen on that and got a couple licks in, but I let him tire out and dragged his tush back here” she explained, Edward barely struggling against her as he apparently had been before. Now he just shuddered in a way that must’ve been involuntary. 

Jonathan’s chest ached in rare sympathy, taking Edward’s arm as Harley carefully nudged him inside, careful to hold him tighter as his knees began to buckle.

“Thank you, Harley. I’d invite you in but I doubt we’d be good hosts at the moment.”

“Yeah that’s alright, I think I got enough’a Eddie’s current situation for now. Maybe I’ll hold you two hostage some other time, but I should probably head out to ice my face for now. I’ll see you later, Professor, take good care of him” Harley blew them a kiss, Jon offering a halfhearted goodbye before locking the door back up behind her. He turned back around to face Edward again.

“Edward?”

“Jon…?” He tilted his head up in recognition, but didn’t look directly at him. That was expected. He herded the man toward the couch, Edward stumbling on unsteady feet where Jonathan put him.

“Mhm. What’re you seeing?”

“Not... You? I don’t think so.” He muttered in a breathy whisper. Jonathan put his glasses on, kneeling by the couch to give Edward space.

“Anything else?” Jonathan pressed, but Edward just shook his head.

“I don’t know, I don’t know. I don’t… I can’t see” he stammered, rubbing his eyes desperately before looking around, distressing himself further when he assumedly didn’t see whatever he was hoping for. 

“It won’t last, It’ll be over soon. Can I sit with you?”   Edward nodded, Jonathan pulling himself onto the couch. He moved close, pressing his knee to Edward’s. He tensed for a second before relaxing against the grounding pressure.

“Just cause you can’t see me doesn’t mean I ain’t here.” 

“… I know.”

“I’m sure. You know everything, don’t you?” Jon muttered in a playfully sarcastic manner, startling a nervous but honest laugh from the shaking man. 

“More than most, Jonathan. More… than most” 

“… you know I’m real, right?”

“More or less” Edward admitted, bouncing the leg not against Crane’s own nervously.

“Alright, never claim I’ve never done anything for you” Jon muttered, taking his glasses off and handing Edward his glasses. “Those feel real?”

“Yeah. They are” he confirmed, running a gloved hand over them. “You’re the only person who’d be caught dead with this style of glasses”

“Well fuck you too, Nygma.”

Edward chuckled, still shaking but definitely calmer. It was a slow go, but he was improving. That was the most important thing. Joker could wait.

—-

Jonathan hoped he never had to work with Batman ever again, but he had to admit he did the job. Sure, the chemicals were seized, but Joker was in Arkham and the attacks were over, and surprisingly Jonathan could walk free from it. 

He still wanted to skewer the clown on his scythe though.

Edward looked up when the front door opened, smiling when Jonathan came in.

“How did it go?”

“Clowns in Arkham” Jon confirmed with his own smile, Edward jumping up with a grin.

“YES! Fuck that clown, honestly! And your chemicals?”

“On their way, ordered everything soon as the bat was gone” 

“Perfect. The Master of Fear, back again” Edward teased, earning an eyebrow raise from Jonathan.

“Oh I assure you, he was never gone” 

[kieraelieson]

In which Virgil has taken lessons on how to demand affection: Part Four, Remus.

Virgil Roman Patton Logan Janus

Warning for Remus-y metaphors relating to gore and indirect references to less than sfw things.

Remus had barely realized someone was in the room when Virgil had yelled “Remus! Affection!” Almost exactly the same as he had when they’d been kids. Though back then he hadn’t used words like affection, he’d grin and fling his arms out and call for a hug, or a spin, or a squish, or whatever he wanted.

Remus wasn’t one for nostalgia most of the time. He lived in the present, and loved or hated it as the situation presented itself. But in that moment it had swamped him entirely.

He’d hugged Virgil tight. “Haven’t seen you in ages, Stormy!”

But after that, Virgil had gone upstairs again. It made sense, he lived there now. But still.

And then other light sides had come down, oddly enough also asking for hugs. But. If they were coming down. Remus could go up.

— — —

But there was one person he obviously had to go to first.

Remus burst in the door as quietly as he could, which basically meant it didn’t bang too hard on the wall, and he flipped himself across Janus’s lap, knocking over a bottle of oily liquid.

Janus, used to his sudden and often riotous entrances, ignored the spilled liquid other than to sigh at the bottle and vanish it so it couldn’t spill any more. “Hello, Remus.”

Remus wiggled into a comfier position and grinned. “I wanted to spend time with you, do the whole ‘Affection!’ thing.”

Janus smiled back, and then a little spark of mischief gleamed in his eyes. He set a gloved hand on Remus’s face. Licking his hand didn’t do much when he had his gloves on, so Remus made a grab for the edge of the glove. Janus swatted his hand away, a playful grin growing on his face.

Remus knew to be careful and not let things get to the blood drawn level, but he loved this game, and soon he and Janus were tumbling off the bed, nearly wrestling.

— — —

Now that Janus was sound asleep, successfully exhausted and not paying attention anymore, Remus snuck out and went upstairs.

Obviously he knew who he wanted first.

He also knew he had to be a little sneaky. If he burst the door open up here, he’d be swarmed by angry sides, and… that might actually be fun. No. First came Virgil, then came angry sides.

He tried the handle, a bit surprised it wasn’t locked.

Virgil let out a little shriek when he saw someone entering. He always did get real antsy late at night.

Virgil scrambled for the light, and when it turned on he looked very pale. Oops. “Remus!”

Remus tried a wild grin.

Virgil threw a pillow at his head. “What are you doing in here?! You’re awful, you scared me! You— how are you up here?”

Remus shrugged. His energy and craze had abandoned him, probably mostly used up wrestling with Janus earlier, but still, traitorous. He was feeling, ugh, normal emotions. “I missed you too.”

Virgil blinked, several emotions Remus didn’t bother to try decoding crossing his face. Finally he looked down at his bed and patted beside him. “If you’re mostly clean you can share.”

There came that nostalgia feeling again. Remus hated it, it always made him feel like a piece of him had been ripped out all over again. And at the same time, he felt an intense longing.

Soon he had a double armful of spiderchild again. It was going to hurt more than a bucketful of his own guts when he had to leave.

— — —

Remus plopped himself in the middle of the couch in the living room. Virgil liked to sleep in, and as much as Remus wanted to stay and hold shadowling, he knew he would have less of the feelings that hurt if he didn’t have to see Virgil watching him leave. Letting him leave.

“Remus?” Logan asked curiously. “What are you doing here?”

Double damn that it was him first. Roman would have screamed and he could have dealt with all three sides at once.

Remus wiggled suggestively. “I’m here for affection~”

Logan’s nose wrinkled and he rolled his eyes, walking away. But after three steps he stopped.

“I would not be willing to provide what you’re insinuating,” Logan said. “But if your request is genuine, I would be willing to negotiate a way in which I can fulfill it.”

Remus blinked. Really? Even after Roman and Patton both had come for hugs out of the blue, he’d never suspected any of them would be willing to give affection to him, especially not to negotiate it.

Logan turned back to him, a bit cautious, but seeming to be sincere.

Remus’s brain spun the wheel of ‘goody-two-shoes approved but still kinda fun activities’, and landed on one. “What if we made slime and dyed it red and brown until it looks like congealed blood.”

Logan nodded slowly, considering. “Provided you assist in cleanup after, I would be willing to participate in that.”

Remus was still more than a little stunned, and his answering smile was barely even crazy.

— — —

As he had previously predicted, the moment Roman saw Remus, probably especially since he was next to Logan and they both had red slime at least up to their elbows, Roman screamed.

“What happened?!!”

Logan winced at the loud yell. It was a good thing Virgil’s room was soundproof or he would definitely be racing down here in a panic.

“Roman, please, it is far too early for such noise. Remus asked if I would make slime with him and I agreed.”

“It’s… slime?” Roman asked, nearly breathless, a sword having summoned into his hand and now clattering to the floor.

“Wanna join?” Remus offered, holding his slime filled hand above his head so it would drip in his hair and down his face like a headwound.

Roman took a few more seconds to just stare and breathe heavily. “I guess,” he said finally.

Roman was more fun than Logan, cause he was more willing to pretend the slime was blood, and when Remus threw a handful at his chest, he fell back with a groan, bemoaning his death at the traitorous hands of his evil brother. Remus climbed onto the table to gloat, covered in the blood of his enemies, at having finally made the ultimate betrayal. The kingdom would now be his!

— — —

He had to go back downstairs now. Janus and Virgil would wake up anytime, and he’d already helped clean up the red that had gone everywhere.

It had been… fun. He wouldn’t like to hold himself back so far all the time, but he could see why Virgil stayed up here.

“Well, I’ll get out of your hair,” he said to Patton, who’d followed him to the door. The awful sappy painful emotions were starting already. He just wanted them done with. He’d drown himself in the imagination. Fire and blood and sex and insanity.

“You know, especially if you give us a little heads up first, we’d be happy to have you visit again,” Patton said, his voice serious, genuine, not overly happy in his polite lies.

Remus wasn’t standing on the ground anymore, it had fallen out from under him. He reached out, and Patton caught him in a tight hug before he could float away.

There were tears on his face, catching in his mustache.

“I’m sorry…” Patton said, holding him tight and safe.

Remus clung to him.

— — —

I won’t bother you now, you have plans. But if those plans are ever R-rated, you know where to find me.

—Remus

Thomas looked over the note several times. Maybe… sometime, he could look back over his list of video games. Pick one he usually wouldn’t.