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areyouwell · 2 months ago

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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.

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.

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.

#wolverine x reader #logan x reader #logan howlett x reader #james logan howlett #logan howlett #x men logan #x men wolverine #x men x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #the wolverine #wolverine x you #logan howlett x you #essa's works

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runningincircl3s · 1 month ago

Text

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

#noah sebastian x reader #vinny mauro x reader #vinny mauro fanfic #noah sebastian fanfic #bad omens fanfic #motionless in white fanfic #nothing ever after <3

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quinnyundertow · 5 months ago

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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.

#quinnyspeaks #this is a long one #thank you anon #ao3 writer

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hollywoodxwhore · 1 year ago

Text

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

#mgk #mgk fanfic #mgk fan fiction #mgk smut #mgk fluff #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly fanfic #machine gun kelly fan fiction #machine gun kelly smut #machine gun kelly fluff #colson baker #colson baker fanfic #colson baker fan fiction #colson baker smut #colson baker fluff

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supernovafics · 2 years ago

Text

✧∘ଂ ࿐ ཾ 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

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington series #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things fluff #stranger things smut

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glorious-blackout · 11 months ago

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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 🥰💖

#honourable mention to Lord of the Lost who I had tickets for but ultimately couldn't see because I was too sick; I'm still sad I missed them #and also to Voyager who I'm sure would have put on an amazing show - looking forward to seeing them after Danny kicks cancer's ass #my gigs #muse #muse band #queens of the stone age #käärijä #go_a #sparks #joker out #arctic monkeys #busted

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mackeydoodledoo · 2 years ago

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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

#Rosalie Hale #Rosalie Hale x Reader #rosalie hale imagine #rosalie twilight #twilight saga #female reader

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the-archangel · 2 years ago

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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.”

#cyberhanami23 #kerry is my muse #cyberpunk 2077 #kerry x male v #cyberpunk kerry #kerry eurodyne #kerry eurodyne x male v #kerry x v #cyberpunk v #male v

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blue-aconite · 1 year ago

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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!

#fe answers #fe's 26th #fe's birthday celebration #fe loves helena

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star-mum · 1 year ago

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Good morning babies <3 (“but it's literally the afternoon, Star” well nobody asked you, asshole) I got my breakie, I got my coffee, Spotify is blasting the FOB song of Sunny’s choice, lets fucking do this 😎

This is a fucking insane episode, it was really fucking good (it will be in my top 5 for season 4, I’m afraid) and also … WAS CYRUS PLAYED BY ARCHIE ANDREWS’ DAD ??????? MR ANDREWS ???? (i wanna say Fred Andrews ?)

Yes I know the actor, Luke Perry, was a lot more famous than that one character but I am 20 and that's the one thing I’ve seen him in (still he outsold in that fucking ep)

“You thought it would be an easy day. Maybe that was foolish on your part” well…. fucking duh, what did you expect when visiting a cult ? but also you’re me so I wont be too mean about it

“Benjamin Cyrus” OH YEAH ALSO, you’re gonna choose a new fake name for yourself and you go with BENJAMIN ??? Cyrus is cool as a first name, very cult-ish but Benjamin ??? LITTLE BENNY, THE CULT LEADER ???

“The rings.” YES !!! I fucking love this, fake dating ? NO, YOU FOOL MAKE MARRIAGE

“Make sure you put on the left hand.” …. As discreetly as possible Id wait for Spencer to put his ring on first to check which hand it is… im giFTED IN OTHER WAYS (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qXrQA-x1cbU)

“Won’t Cyrus be even more angry if he finds out that it’s not true?” What is he gonna do? Demand to see the certificate?

“you didn’t find it surprising that Reid knew this fact right off the top of his head” little intermission cause I genuinely DON'T UNDERSTAND why everyone always seems so annoyed whenever Spencer either blurts out random facts or goes on full rants ? Like, yes timing isnt one of his strong suits but as long as it isnt a super innaproprieta time WHY ARE YOU ALL SO JADED ????? I love useless stupid rants, I love to be told random facts, it’d genuinely be so much fun to have someone around who just Knows Stuff

Like imagine not having a super great day (or even a terrible one) you can just go “hey Spence, know any facts that might cheer me up?” BOOM ! EVERYONE’S HAPPY !! Okay, sorry about that, intermission over. Everyone back to your seats

“So Spencer stepped up to introduce you” isn't Cyrus gonna question why we didnt take Reid’s last name ?

“Hearing him refer to you as his wife - you hated to say it, but it caused a jolt through your system” YEAH THAT CHECKS OUT

“How far from God’s word must we have strayed for there to be a need to invent a job called ‘Child Victim Interview Expert’” YOU TELL US OR SHOULD YOUR CHILD BRIDES ????

“how much intense, feigned passion you said these words with” putting my entire pussy into this role, lets go gamers

“completely surprising yourself, you leaned in and kissed Spencer on the cheek” to sell the fantasy ONLY obviously

“Benjamin Franklin” … imagine youre a cult leader and the fake name you pick for yourself is in honor of BENJAMIN FRANKLIN (idc that he’s founding father, that's just boring and uninspired)

“knowing that the two of you likely should have coordinated this story during the plane ride” KSKSKS WE WERE SO CONFIDENT ABOUT IT TOO “he wont find out” MA’AM

“Has it been a godly union?” … what does That mean ?

“Your wife didn’t take your last name.” I just “Jim”ed a non-existent camera (am I just… unbeatable …?)

“Hotch had only come up with the fake marriage idea the day before” I wonder why this super carefully made plan’s gonna explode on our faces (haha explode, get it?)

“A few hours later, everything had gone to hell” welp :/

“it wasn’t very difficult to pretend to be Spencer’s wife then”

“Which one of you is the FBI Agent?” can't we just put it on Nancy’s tab ? she’s already dead anyways :-:

“What? You think I wouldn’t know if - if my wife was an FBI Agent?” very good point, angel <3

“and you couldn’t help when you let out a wounded cry” this is like the opposite we’d always have to as agents, no the more real emotion the better

“It must have been Nancy!” FUCK YEAH WE CAN !!!!

“Perhaps I should strip you naked to ensure that you’re not wearing a wire.” I find comfort in knowing that his ass is getting blown up at the end of this : D

“Perhaps they didn’t see him as a threat” sksksk damn

“So I suggest you get that gun away from my wife before you and I truly have a problem.” I want him, biblically

“Your arms clutched desperately at his waist, needing to keep a hold on him” the yEARNING THAT I'M FEELING THIS WHOLE SECTION !! ITS A TERRIBLE AND INDESCRIBABLE FEELING

“You couldn’t hold yourself back then. You surged up and kissed him” YEEAAAHHHHH !!!! LETS GOOOOO !!!! howEVER sksksk we’re gonna get so much fucking grief from Morgan and Prentiss over this “a cULT HOLDING YOU A GUN POINT ?? THAT'S WHAT IT TOOK?”

“After the mock poisoning, which Spencer figured out rather quickly” not important but my sister watched this episode with me and I also figured that out – before her or Spencer, so point for me on the scoreboard

“If we tell them that you’re pregnant” I FORGOT ABOUT THIS PART (oh boy if you thought the yearning was hard before)

“You had gotten married and had kids all in one day. What a miracle” KSKSKSK SUNNY

“Your imaginary sperm is powerful, isn’t it?” KSKSKKSS

“Those were names he had lovingly chosen for your imaginary children” nothing like the fear of imminent death to bring out the embarrassing marriage!AU you have about you and your coworker

“You reached up and gently gripped his forearm in response, giving a light squeeze to show your approval. He leaned in and kissed the back of your head” dizzyingly is CORRECT cause I’m feeling light headed

Okay sorry, they’re acting so married and couple-y, I just had the vision of both of then getting back to where the rest of the team is still in that headspace and Hotch has to – after a long moment – ask for the rings back, cause they’re both still happily wearing them

“Hugo and Iris” I really wanna know the context for the name choices !! idk if this is something that Spencer mentioned further in the show or if there is a deeper meaning for you picking them, but I wanna know

“but you had come up with some much better – You said that you have a nursery here?“ fake miscarriage … ? ooohhhh okay no that was stupid nvm (I’ll be humble and leave it in tho SKSKSKS)

“needing to care for children lest your womb shrivel up and you die” SKSKSKS the comedy in this one is just next level, these lines are killing me

“Your plan worked flawlessly” never doubted myself for a second 🫥

““Where’s Reid?” Morgan easily asked you. “He’s still up at the church” Oh we’re kissing when he gets out, in front of everybody I can sense it (it’s my personal version of spidey senses, I can feel a good fanfic moment coming miles away)

“You had to tell yourself that Derek was going to get Spencer out” I mean… Derek also drove an explosive rigged ambulance to a self exploding space in like 2 minutes ?? there’s very little that man can't do

“you felt a sharp grip on your upper arm – L/N!” I always feel something akin to a tiny little baby static shock when my name’s just on shit (I always forget the extension is on)

“You’re so stupid, you’re so stupid! Why would you do that to me?” the most “Star” reaction of all time, thank you sm for this

“I love you too – The words flew from your lips so naturally it hurt” I can feel this in my bones and I don't know how to better explain it

“one of the most earth shattering kisses you had ever experienced” Spidey Senses, never wrong

“It was no longer a show” mA’AM– *deep breath* its okay, she’s still in denial, its fINE

Love Me Love Me by the Travelling Kisses started playing (mind you I put on my Spotify likes, so 1132 songs on shuffle) and I felt genuine pain for how perfectly it fit

“you simply flipped Derek off over Spencer’s shoulder” KSKSKSKS IS THAT PHOTO !! I CANT FIND IT BUT YOU’VE SEEN IT !!! EVERYONES DRAWING THEIR FAV HOMOSEXUALS IN THAT POSE

“JJ handed Derek five dollars” Damn JJ “Derek handed the fiver to Emily when she reminded him that the ‘fake marriage’ bit had actually been her idea” OH MY GOD OF COURSE !!!!

“he fake rings were just cheap costume jewelry that Garcia had gotten and they would tarnish soon if you kept wearing them” and we will have green ring marks on our fingers, happily

“I rewatched the canon episode and it doesn't 100% align with what happened in the episode in terms of the timeline and stuff” I literally just watched this weekend and I dont even remember much outside of the main plot points SKKSKSKS so I think it's absolutely fine

“I highly resisted the urge to end this with 'baby making' smut” which is both fair but also dear god it probably pained you to do so

OKAY !!! I just absolutely loved this !!!! I love the cheesy and angsty moments, also really fun episode to write fic “onto”, we already talked about this but I would love nothing more than make Spencer a father and he’d be SUCH A GOOD HUSBAND AND DAD IT KILLS ME

I definitely not going to deny baby making smut if it comes my way but I also agree this being its own cute little thing is very good (I’d honestly be more interested in a pt 2 following more of their relationship, than focusing more on the smut – which surprises the both of us I Know)

The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Summary:

While undercover inside the Separatarian Sect, you and Spencer realize something important: you can't live without each other.

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader. Co-Workers to Lovers. Fake Dating. Hurt and Comfort. Set during Season 4, Episode 3.

Word Count: 8,200

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Full list of warnings and author's notes below.

Warnings: Lots of spoilers for the canon episode - so if you haven't watched Season 4 of Criminal Minds yet, steer clear of this fic for now (especially because watching the episode provides some context for this fic/makes things make more sense); the reader uses she/her pronouns and has the ability to get pregnant (she is not pregnant during the fic and there's no smut, but due to discussions in the fic, it's not unreasonable that she could get pregnant); fake dating in the form of a fake marriage - the reader and Spencer pretend to be married under the Christian religion to 'appeal' to Cyrus; because of the fake marriage, Spencer uses the term 'my wife' to refer to the reader; lots of mentions of religion (Christianity), religious extremism, mentions of pedophilia/child brides (in line with the canon episode); mentions of systemic sexism and gender roles enforced by cultures of organised religion and religious extremism; use of y/n and l/n (in this case meaning 'your last name'); the reader pretends to follow the Christian religion while undercover but I never stated if she believes in a less extreme version of these things or not (the reader's true religious beliefs are never stated); protective!Spencer, possessive!Spencer; mentions of Spencer being taller than the reader (which, again, I think he would be taller than most people) - the reader's body/body type is not described in any other way; mentions of guns and gun violence (not described in deep detail) - in line with the canon episode; the reader and Spencer fear for their lives; dangerous/live-threatening situations; the reader and Spencer are threatened with a gun; Cyrus is just generally creepy and sexist toward the reader; Spencer is pistol-whipped and the reader is threatened with sexual assault (it does not happen, Spencer protects her); mentions of pregnancy/the reader being pregnant (she is not pregnant during the course of the fic); mentions of the reader being a mother/having kids (Spencer makes up fake kids to sell their fake marriage story); the reader realizes she might actually want to be a mother because of Spencer's fake kids story; mentions of an explosion (as in the canon); love confessions; angst with a happy ending. Hopefully that is everything.

A/N: The title for this fic comes from a Fall Out Boy song of the same name. The theme/lyrics of the song don't really fit the fic, but I love the way that this title fits - how everyone in this fic is lying in some way but Spencer is someone with good intentions while lying. Making him the Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes. I love how it fits. I wrote this while suffering with heat exhaustion so idk if it's good or even makes sense. I rewatched the canon episode and it doesn't 100% align with what happened in the episode in terms of the timeline and stuff, and I am too tired to rewrite the whole fic to make it align with the episode. So uh - alternative canon? But I really love the basic concepts and I do really love how it turned out. I hope you guys like it too!

...

You thought it would be an easy day.

Maybe that was foolish on your part. So far, you hadn’t seen a single ‘easy’ day while working with the BAU. Between chasing down scumbags and then reliving every single gory detail while doing the paperwork - none of it was ‘easy’. It was worthy, accomplished work - making the world a safer place to live in. (At least that’s what you told yourself.) But it was never easy.

There was always someone who made the job easier. Someone who made you smile every single day - especially on days when you didn’t think you were even capable of feeling a tiny shred of joy. Someone who made you feel safe, who you always felt had your back no matter what. So you were glad that he was by your side today, along for the ride.

“Tell us about Cyrus.” Reid prompted.

He looked to the woman driving, your new companion for the day - Nancy Lunde, someone who worked with the state department and had set up the interviews with the children at the Separatarian Sect.

“Benjamin Cyrus. No criminal record. In fact, there’s no record of the guy at all.” Nancy explained.

“That’s odd.” You commented. “Usually someone being accused of something like this would have some past offenses. Especially because it would give him a reason to move into isolation to continue the criminal pattern of behavior.”

“Well, I couldn’t find anything on him.” Nancy shrugged.

“What about the 9-1-1 call?” You asked.

“A fifteen year old girl called in saying that a man was ‘laying with her’ and claimed it as ‘God’s will’. I believe the ‘he’ referred to is Cyrus.” Nancy explained. “The age fits with Jessica Evanson, but I’ve managed to negotiate interviews with all the children, just to be sure. It wasn’t easy.”

“They’re incredibly weary of outsiders.” You commented. “Our boss warned you not to identify us as FBI, right?”

Nancy nodded. “I got you some spare credentials, just in case.”

She took one of her hands off the wheel and reached into her pocket.

“You’re going to be using your real names. You’re going in as Child Victim Interview Experts working with Child Protective Services. No association with the FBI.” Nancy explained, handing Reid your fake credentials.

He nodded, inspecting the IDs before handing you yours where you were sitting in the backseat.

“Oh, before I forget.” You noted, reaching into the pocket of your cardigan. “The rings.”

You pulled out a small plastic bag that Hotch had given to you before you left. It was a bag containing a fake diamond ring in your size and a fake golden ‘wedding’ band for Spencer.

Reid reached over the seat to grab his ring from you, and Nancy gave the two of you an odd look.

“Rings?” She questioned.

“Fake wedding bands.” You explained.

“It was our Unit Chief’s idea.” Reid added on. “He believes that presenting us as a ‘godly’ married couple to Cyrus will make him more likely to open up to us. He’s less likely to see us as hostile outsiders if he believes that we share a similar system of beliefs.”

“It could also have a calming effect on the teenagers we have to interview or the kids there who have had more time to go through indoctrination at the Sect.” You continued to explain. “Even if their parents are hesitant to let the kids speak with us, they may be more willing to have their child speak with us or even leave them alone with us if they believe that we’re fellow Christians, rather than hostile atheists there to poison their children’s minds.”

Reid nodded at you through the rearview mirror.

“Make sure you put on the left hand.” He told you. “That’s the position for marriage.”

You nodded at this.

You placed the ring in the appropriate position, and you couldn’t help but to take a moment and stare at it. It was jarring to have a wedding ring on - especially with the thought that it represented you being married to Spencer. But you supposed, of all the people to call your husband, he would be one of the best. He was honest, intelligent, kind, and… if you were pressed, you would definitely say he was handsome.

But you couldn’t get too caught up thinking about all of that. Because it wasn’t real. It was a false projection you were wearing for the benefit of a self inflated sociopath.

Spencer liked the feeling of the ring. He didn’t take too long to stare at it after he had put it on, because he knew his mind would wander if he did. When Hotch had first proposed the idea of the two of you pretending to be married, Spencer had almost tripped over himself to oppose it - mostly because he didn’t think that he would be able to handle simply pretending to be your husband for the day. It was just too cruel.

Having something he wanted so badly dangled right in front of him and knowing that it was all just a farce - it bothered him, but he delighted in the play nonetheless.

When he caught the fake gold glinting in the light, Spencer had to remind himself that it was fake - that you would just be playing his wife for the day. He had to push back any internal glee that he felt at the idea that he got to be ‘taken’ by you while wearing that ring. It wasn’t real. It was just for the day.

“Isn’t that deceptive?” Nancy asked. “Won’t Cyrus be even more angry if he finds out that it’s not true?”

“He won’t find out.” You replied confidently. “And besides, we use deception in interrogations all the time. It’s a very basic tactic: align yourself with the suspect. Make them think you share the same beliefs, that you’re on their side.”

Reid grinned at this. He always loved it when you spoke so confidently.

…

“We’re looking for Mr. Benjamin Cyrus.” Nancy announced as the three of you got out of the car.

“Then you’ve found him.” Cyrus announced confidently.

He was pretty much what you had expected him to be - dressed informally, slouched over, faking meekness, holding a bible near his chest as though it were a shield. He had planted himself there purposefully, wanting to be the first person to interact with the outsiders as three of you came into the Ranch.

You hovered back near Spencer, letting Nancy make the first introduction.

“I’m Nancy Lunde.” She said, giving a small nod toward the man. “We spoke on the phone regarding the allegation.”

“‘Savages they call us, because our manners differ from theirs.’” Cyrus rhymed off a quote, obviously positioning himself and his group as martyrs being attacked for having ‘different ways’ that the world simply didn’t understand.

“We didn’t come here to hear you cite scripture, Mr. Cyrus.” Nancy reminded him, hoping to keep the religious zealot on track.

“Actually, it’s Benjamin Franklin.” Reid corrected her, talking about the quote.

That did surprise you, but you didn’t find it surprising that Reid knew this fact right off the top of his head. It was just one of the many amazing things about him - his perfect memory and his ability to use it.

Of course, him saying this immediately drew Cyrus’ attention toward the two of you. So Spencer stepped up to introduce you.

“Hello, I’m Spencer Reid, and this is my wife, Y/N L/N.” He said motioning toward himself and then to you as he introduced the two of you. Hearing him refer to you as his wife - you hated to say it, but it caused a jolt through your system. Almost as if you had been waiting forever to hear him say those words and hadn’t even known it yourself. “We’re Child Victim Interview Experts, here on behalf of Child Protective Services.”

Of course, you couldn’t get too caught up in deciphering how those words made you feel, because you had to focus on the task at hand. The job that you were here to do.

“How far from God’s word must we have strayed for there to be a need to invent a job called ‘Child Victim Interview Expert’.” Cyrus said, his tone even, quiet.

You knew that covertly, it was his way of saying that the two of you didn’t belong there, because he ran the Ranch with God’s word, so nobody had actually been harmed (in his opinion). He believed that he had done nothing wrong. Obviously, he thought your time and resources were better spent with ‘actual’ victims who didn’t have his power wielded over their lives.

“I can assure you, Mr. Cyrus, we try to bring God into our work.” You told him, trying to appeal to him. “The children we visit usually need prayer and God’s light the most.”

Spencer gave you a sideways glance, clearly holding back a grin at how thick you were pouring it on - how much intense, feigned passion you said these words with.

“Well, I can assure you that a lack of prayer and God’s light is certainly not an issue for the children here.” Cyrus said, giving you a clever little grin. He thought that you would simply interview the children, praise him for what a good job he had done, and then leave. “You can go and see the children whenever you like. They are up at the school, as I indicated in our phone call.”

Nancy walked toward the school, and you paused before you followed.

Before you walked off, you looked to Spencer. In a completely silent conversation that only worked so well because the two of you had been in so many tense situations before, thinking around UnSubs and planning miles around them before they could even know it, he gave you a small nod and you instantly knew what it meant. He had established a small bit of trust with Cyrus, so he would stick back and see what else he could get out of the man.

You nodded back, and then - completely surprising yourself, you leaned in and kissed Spencer on the cheek. You were just playing the part, you told yourself. It’s not that it felt entirely instinctive to say goodbye to him with some kind of affection, like the many hugs you had given him before. It’s not that you felt so entirely scrutinized with Cryus’ piercing eyes on you, and you needed the anchor of Spencer’s touch.

You were just playing the part.

Spencer tried not to get caught on being kissed on the cheek like he was some blushing virgin, and instead, focused his attention back on Cyrus instead of watching you walk away. (Even though every single one of his instincts told him that he needed to keep a more careful eye on you because you both had to leave your guns in the car.)

He took a step closer to where Cyrus was leaning on the concrete, and easily picked a topic of conversation.

“Solar panels.” Reid said, motioning to the large devices sitting behind Cyrus on the grass.

“Yes.” Cyrus nodded. “We’re completely self-sufficient here. Food, electricity, water. Benjamin Franklin said ‘God helps those who help themselves’.” He explained. “You look surprised.”

“No, uh, impressed, actually.” Reid easily lied, trying to appeal to his ego.

“Thank you.” Cyrus said. “Most men wouldn’t admit that.”

“Well, I suppose that I’m not like most men.” Reid shrugged in return.

“How long have you been married?” Cyrus asked, motioning toward Reid’s ‘wedding ring’.

Reid panicked slightly, knowing that the two of you likely should have coordinated this story during the plane ride to Colorado so that your answers to these simple questions wouldn’t be different. But he just made up an answer and hoped that nobody else would ask you the same question and find out the deception.

“Three years.” He said. “I’ve been very blessed.”

He used the language purposefully, knowing that the simple phrase could get him on Cyrus’ good side. That, and he hoped it would draw the attention away from any possible signs of his blatant lie.

“Your wife is very beautiful.” Cyrus commented.

He gave a wicked smirk as he said this. It was a simple, fairly ‘innocent’ comment, but it was immediately off-putting to Spencer. It took everything in his body not to glare daggers at Cyrus or throw out some protective comment in return. He could only imagine what was going through Cyrus’ mind as he thought about you, and he hated even imagining it.

Reid knew that it was a basic logical good, the instinct to protect you because you were his partner on this case and he was supposed to have your back. But it was also something more. Something in every fiber of his being that screamed you were his and no man should ever be thinking of you that way except for him.

“Has it been a godly union?”

He was lucky when Cyrus spoke again and distracted him from his mounting rage.

“We try to be as godly as we can be.” Spencer took the simple, diplomatic answer.

“Your wife didn’t take your last name.” Cyrus pointed out.

Nancy had used your name on your false credentials because Hotch had only come up with the fake marriage idea the day before. There hadn’t been time to inform her about it and have ‘Reid’ put on your ID as your ‘married’ name. So he had introduced you by your name to keep everything consistent with the reuse.

It did make Spencer wonder if you would keep your last name if the two of you ever did get married. It made him almost dizzy, thinking about you as ‘Mrs Reid’. Thinking about your kids having his name. Or your name, if that’s what you wanted.

But naturally, he pushed past all those thoughts and formed an excuse.

“Typically, married women aren’t very well perceived in our line of work.” He quickly excused. “She doesn’t even get to wear her ring that often. She couldn’t change her name on paperwork at our office because a working married woman… it’s heavily frowned upon.”

“Well, I’d have to agree.” Cyrus grunted. “A woman shouldn’t be out working. A woman should be at home raising a family.”

“I - I suppose you’re right.” Reid agreed through gritted teeth.

He walked away toward the school before he got too angry again.

…

A few hours later, everything had gone to hell.

Some authority - the police, the military, you didn’t even know - had charged into the Ranch shooting. In response, Cyrus and his followers had come into the school toting large semi-automatics asking you and Spencer if you knew about a raid.

You didn’t. You wish you had known about a raid. You would have warned Hotch and gotten them to call it off. You certainly would not have been there while it was happening.

When they had pointed those guns in your face and forced you into the tunnels - it wasn’t very difficult to pretend to be Spencer’s wife then. Cowering in the bunker, confused and scared, you flung your arms around his waist almost instinctively, and he buried his nose in the top of your hair as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders like a shield, promising you that everything was going to be okay.

Whispered to you like that, coming from him - it was almost easier to believe. Even with the chaos going on around you and the fear pumping through you in response.

Nancy had run off trying to get them to surrender and did not come back. You had a feeling that you knew what that meant.

And now, with the kids from the school ‘evacuated’ into the church, you were being held in the cellar at gunpoint. They had forcefully separated you and Spencer, making you sit in chairs at opposite sides of the room.

Spencer was fidgeting. His eyes kept flickering from the door, to you, to the man standing beside you holding the very large gun.

You knew that you had ugly tear tracks down your face, and oddly enough - you wanted nothing more than to be back in his arms. As you were forced to sit there, just a few feet across the room away from him - you ached for it.

There was a very large possibility that you were going to die today. And you selfishly needed the comfort of being in the arms of someone familiar - someone safe. Someone you knew would never hurt you. Someone who had made you laugh with dumb science jokes and puns for the last five years that you had worked together with him.

When Cyrus charged back into the room with two men flanking his sides, you and Spencer stiffened up once again.

“God will forgive me for what I’m about to do.” Cyrus announced to the room, presenting a handgun from his belt.

Your insides quaked, and Spencer’s eyes grew wide.

You couldn’t contain the fearful whimper that erupted from the back of your throat when he raised that gun and placed it near the middle of Spencer’s forehead. You clasped a hand tightly over your mouth to keep yourself from crying out in protest, knowing that would only make things worse.

“Which one of you is the FBI Agent?” Cyrus asked firmly.

Which ‘one’?

So he knew that you were undercover, that you had lied about your job titles - but he thought that only one of you had done so. Where the hell was he getting his information?

“I - I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Spencer told him quietly, looking him in the eye the entire time.

You hoped that his stutter could be passed off as nervousness from the gun being pointed in his face, and wouldn’t be pointed to as deception.

“Which one of you is it?” Cyrus pressed.

“We are not FBI Agents.” Spencer said, more confidently this time. “We are Child Victim Interview Experts. We were only sent here to ensure the wellbeing of the children. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Well, that last part wasn’t a lie.

“You’re lying.” Cyrus told him, entirely confident in this. “God expells those who lie, devils in sheep’s clothing.”

There was a tense moment, and then Cyrus cocked the gun.

Spencer didn’t flinch. You resisted the urge to scream.

“Proverbs 12:22 says: ‘The Lord detests lying lips, but he delights in those who tell the truth.’” Cyrus said, actually citing scripture this time.

He was giving Spencer one last chance to tell the truth. As if using the bible verse to say that his punishment would be lesser if he simply told the truth now.

Spencer didn’t take the bait.

“I’m not lying.” Spencer said firmly. “What? You think I wouldn’t know if - if my wife was an FBI Agent? This is the woman I wake up next to every single morning, the woman I go to sleep next to every single night, we work together every single day, we-��

Cyrus interrupted Spencer’s ranting with a sharp hit to the face, pistol whipping him across the cheek.

This caused Spencer to go flying off the chair, and you couldn’t help when you let out a wounded cry. It took everything in you not to jump out of your own chair and rush to Spencer where he had collapsed onto the ground, clutching his cheek.

“Someone is going to tell me the truth.” Cyrus said gruffly.

“It must have been Nancy!” You said, the idea finally popping into your head.

You seemed to be more clever with the pressure of Spencer’s life being threatened. Cyrus stared you down, turning his attention fully toward you now. You caught Spencer’s eye for a moment and he gave you a small nod - as if to say ‘yes, keep going with that’.

“The woman we came in with! Nancy!” You reasoned, continuing to point the finger at the woman you had to assume was dead. “We - we just met her today. Our boss introduced us to her, but we had never met before that. If she was FBI, we had no clue. We swear.”

Cyrus turned to you then, and tightly pressed the barrel of his gun into your forehead. You could feel the imprint of it so tight in your skin that it hurt, and you could only lean away so far before threatening to knock the chair backwards.

“It’s very convenient to pin this crime on someone who isn’t here.” He grunted at you.

“It’s the truth.” You sniffled out quietly.

“Hmm.” Cyrus hummed thoughtfully, and then, much to your surprise, he removed the gun barrel from your forehead.

You barely had a moment to breathe in relief before he began skimming the gun down your neck, touching the metal whisper-gentle across your bare skin - clearly taunting you. It was something that made your whole body stiff with alarm, and caused Spencer’s eyes to go wide once again.

“Perhaps I should strip you naked to ensure that you’re not wearing a wire.” Cyrus said, teasing the gun along the buttons at the front of your cardigan.

You held back a sob at the thought of it - at the idea that he could make you do almost anything for the fear of you being shot. Truthfully, you were more afraid of what he might do to Spencer if you didn’t comply, but it was all the same in your mind now. His life was just as valuable as yours, and you would do whatever it took to protect him.

Before Cyrus could take these threats any further, a heroic voice intervened.

“That’s enough!” Spencer yelled.

He gathered himself off the floor and oddly enough, none of the men moved to stop him as he came to stand beside Cyrus. Perhaps they didn’t see him as a threat. Perhaps it was because Cyrus didn’t bark any orders at them to stop him. He was entirely unflinching, keeping his focus on you and keeping his gun held between your breasts as Spencer crowded into his personal space, trying to press himself between you and the awful man.

“We’ve told you everything that we know.” Spencer told him lowly, his voice heaving with well controlled anger. It was something that you had rarely ever heard from him.

Cyrus kept his eyes locked on you, so Spencer continued.

“We don’t know anything about the FBI - we have a simple job advocating for children who have been abused. That is it. We came here to investigate a most likely false claim against someone in your community and we truly didn’t mean to get caught up in all of this.” He said firmly, clearly trying to appeal to Cyrus. “So I suggest you get that gun away from my wife before you and I truly have a problem.”

Spencer’s voice was dark, so thick with rage. More pent up rage than you had ever heard from him when he was talking to any suspect, people who had done the worst of the worst. Something about Cyrus threatening you had truly boiled his insides.

The way he said the words ‘my wife’ - growling it out like he was a feral animal and this threat to you had activated every single one of his protective instincts. Hearing it made something inside of you yearn for him on such a deep level that you didn’t know was possible. You wanted to feel that kind of protection cast over you every single day. It made you feel invincible, having Spencer watch over you like that.

Cyrus lowered the gun then, and Spencer grabbed your arm as you dissolved into hysterical tears. Instinctively, he lifted you up into his arms. You thought that you heard Cyrus mumble out ‘my apologies’ as he left the room - but he was barely on your radar. Your entire world became narrowed down to nothing but Spencer, your safety net as he built a wall of protection around you.

He used his height to block you from seeing anything but him, letting you push your face into his chest as you cried. He wrapped you in his arms once again, letting you feel truly safe for a few moments as you sobbed into the fabric of his sweater. Your arms clutched desperately at his waist, needing to keep a hold on him - needing to ensure that he didn’t leave you.

“Hey, shh. Shh. It’s okay.” He said, leaving gentle kisses on the top of your forehead and your hair, rubbing across your back with one hand, comforting you in the only way he could in those moments. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Of course, he wanted to break down too. But he had to be strong for you.

“Spencer,” You called his name in an utterly wounded voice, pulling away from his chest to look up at him.

When you saw his injury up close - a sharp, purple-red bruise that was blooming across his cheek, it looked so utterly painful. Your insides ached at the thought that he had taken a blow for you. You hated to imagine what more they could have done to him if they had not believed your lies.

You instinctively reached a hand up to touch it and he caught your fingers halfway, instead, gently grasping your hand and laying it on his chest. The intimacy felt so oddly rehearsed - so worn in, so ‘normal’. It felt like you had been married to Spencer for years. Like it wasn’t a play at all.

Your two souls had been calling out to each other for years, just waiting for the dam to break. But you couldn’t quite put it into words - not like that.

“It’s okay.” He said quietly, knowing you were horrified by the injury.

He was so gentle, so comforting, so calm. Everything the men pointing guns at you were not. Unlike Cyrus - Spencer Reid was a true blessing from God.

You couldn’t hold yourself back then.

You surged up and kissed him, fully embracing his mouth with yours in a kiss. Though it was so sudden, it was something he easily returned. The kiss so full of urgency, so needy, so passionate. Like he was trying to tell you that it was okay, that he would protect you no matter what.

He would protect you because you belonged to him.

In those moments, the two of you were basically alone. One of Cryus’ men was guarding the door, watching on boredly. But Cyrus was off in the church, funneling people in to prepare for his ‘loyalty’ test. It didn’t matter if he saw you kissing or not - it wouldn’t have sold the reuse of you being married any better.

This was just for the two of you. This was comfort.

When you pulled back from the kiss, Spencer looked stunned, almost as if he couldn’t believe what had happened. You didn’t give him time to question it.

“Thank you.” You said quietly.

It was twofold:

Thank you for protecting me. Thank you for giving me comfort.

Spencer didn’t have too much time to marinate in the meaning of the kiss before Cyrus’ men came back and fetched the two of you, wanting you to observe the loyalty test.

…

After the mock poisoning (which Spencer figured out rather quickly, making you admire his cleverness once again), Cyrus kept you and Spencer in the church with a few of his closest, most loyal followers while all of the low level followers dispersed back to their homes.

You and Spencer were lingering in the back quietly while Cyrus was on the other end of the room, talking to his men about how to proceed. The plans for their ‘final stand’.

“We need to get some kind of signal to the others.” Spencer whispered quietly. “Maybe they’ll take pity on you and let you go if-” He swallowed sharply, cutting himself off abruptly. Oddly enough, he didn’t want to voice whatever was on his mind.

“If what?” You probed. You wondered what the hell you could possibly be thinking.

“If we tell them that you’re pregnant.” He said, whispering so lowly that you almost didn’t catch the words.

You rolled your eyes sharply at this.

You had gotten married and had kids all in one day. What a miracle.

(In those moments, clouded by fear, you couldn’t see it for what it truly was - Spencer blatantly revealing his unconscious desires to have a baby with you.)

“We could convince them to release you. As a show of good faith. A pregnancy would be good leverage in that. You know how religious people are about fetuses-” Spencer reasoned.

“Yeah, and what if they give me a test?” You probed, punching a large hole in his logic. “We don’t know what kind of infirmary they have here. They obviously believe in modern technology. What if they want to give me an ultrasound to check on the fetus after the stress of the day? To prove that they did no harm to the precious unborn child,”

Spencer was easily caught on this point. If they examined you and found that you weren’t pregnant, all the lies would fall apart.

“Well… what if we tell them that you have a baby at home that you need to get back to?” Spencer reasoned, jumping to the next logical conclusion in his mind. “It’ll likely garner the same level of pity.”

“Your imaginary sperm is powerful, isn’t it?” You whispered back sharply. Spencer rolled his eyes this time. But he didn’t redact the plan as unreasonable, so you continued on. “Okay, what do I even do when I get out there? I’m not gonna be of any use to the tactical team. We don’t know what Cyrus’ final play is yet.”

Truthfully, you couldn’t bear to be separated from Spencer. Knowing that he was inside, potentially being beaten up more, potentially being shot and bleeding out from a wound without you knowing - it would kill you with stress. You need to be by his side. You needed to know that he was okay.

“Has God blessed your union with any children?” Cyrus appeared behind you suddenly.

You wondered if he had heard you say the word ‘pregnancy’ or if this was just a random topic that had come up in his mind.

His sudden appearance behind you caused you to whip around and crowd into the comfort of Spencer’s arms again because you were frightened. Naturally, Spencer wrapped his sheltering touch around your shoulders. Your back was gently pressed into Spencer’s front, his arm shielding you protectively as it was wrapped around your chest, holding you with his hand on one of your shoulders, unconsciously stroking his thumb across the fabric of your cardigan. The position had you both facing Cyrus, watching the fan in an offensive way.

And of course, Spencer didn’t miss a beat.

“Yes.” Spencer answered easily. “We have two kids at home. A boy and a girl. Iris and Hugo. Iris is almost three years old and Hugo is eleven months. His first birthday is coming up in June.”

You knew that Spencer could be very good at talking off a suspect’s ear under pressure, but when you heard him rattle off these ‘facts’ so easily, it hit you.

This wasn’t simply statistics or physiological knowledge - this was a very elaborate backstory for your supposedly real marriage. Perhaps he had thought about all of it on the car ride up (which was odd not to share it with you, in case Cyrus asked you a similar question and your answer didn’t match up with Spencer’s).

But if you weren’t mistaken, this wasn’t simply a backstory for your fake marriage during the undercover mission. This was a fantasy of his. Those were names he had lovingly chosen for your imaginary children - kids he had dreamed up in his head and wanted to be real.

Your heart ached at the thought of it. You found yourself missing a set of children that weren’t even real. (And distantly, wanting to jump his bones to make it a reality.)

“Tell me, Mr. Reid, would you find it so shameful for your daughter to marry young?” Cyrus asked.

You found it odd to hear Cyrus call Spencer ‘Mr. Reid’, but you realized that he hadn’t introduced himself as ‘Doctor’ in this setting. You held your tongue when you felt the need to correct him as you had so many other people, wanting Spencer to receive his proper title.

Your mind almost couldn’t focus on the question that Cyrus had asked. Of course, he was trying to get Spencer to stroke his ego once again. Basically admitting that the whole reason the two of you had come here was true - he was being vastly inappropriate with a young member of the church, and getting away with it. And he saw nothing wrong with it.

And he was trying to get an outsider to admit that he saw nothing wrong with it too.

When there was a moment of silence - Reid obviously torn on how to answer the question, Cyrus continued.

“Is there really something so wrong with a blooming young woman marrying a man who will protect her under God’s laws?” He probed, his voice so entirely confident. Clearly confident that he was right.

“Well, I’m not sure if I would let my daughter get married so young.” Reid said, finally speaking up. “I just know that I would want her to marry a man that would protect her, and be the best possible fit for her. Someone who would cherish her and be good to her no matter what.”

His answer made you swoon. You reached up and gently gripped his forearm in response, giving a light squeeze to show your approval. He leaned in and kissed the back of your head - dizzyingly, you were imagining him walking your imaginary daughter down the aisle before you had even gotten married yourself.

Maybe it was being so close to death, being threatened in such dangerous territory that was causing your life to accelerate at light speed in your mind. If you were going to lose everything, you might as well enjoy the escapism of a fake life with a beautiful man in your mind instead of being stuck on the heart pounding terror of being held hostage, right?

Surprisingly, his words drew a smile from Cyrus.

“You’re a protective father, aren’t you?” Cyrus asked.

“Of course.” Reid confirmed.

“I can always admire that in a man.” Cyrus nodded. “A man should always pride himself on protecting his family.”

There was another moment of pause, and you were hoping that the topic had been dropped completely.

“Do you have a picture of your children with you?” Cyrus asked.

You wondered if - in a different version of reality, where you and Spencer really were married, where Hugo and Iris really did exist - if you had a picture of them in your pocket, would Cyrus only be asking this so he could use the picture to taunt the two of you? What other purpose would he have for knowing what your children looked like?

“Unfortunately, no.” You answered. “I keep my family pictures on my desk. In my office. We - we’ve just been praying to get back to them safely.”

Cyrus seemed perturbed at you mentioning that you had an office. Something dark flickered over his features for a moment and then disappeared.

“Well… if it is right, God will grant you that safe passage.” Cyrus said.

Just when you truly thought the conversation was done, he said something to you that entirely grinded under your skin.

“I find it entirely odd that a mother of two young children spends her days working a job where she takes care of other people’s children, rather than staying at home with her own youngins where she belongs.”

He said, using that same entirely confident, righteous tone that he always did. Even though you were not really a working mother, you had a hard time not boiling with anger at the sexism ripe in his statement.

“How much must you be missing of your sweet angels lives to instead partake in the horrors of devils you shouldn’t have to witness.”

Of course.

You had a hard time not rolling your eyes at this or saying something harsh that would set him off. Instead, you reached up to Spencer’s arm around your shoulder, squeezing his fingers, trying to keep your patience.

“I’ll have you know that Y/N is an amazing mother.” Spencer piped up, knowing that Cyrus respected him enough as a man that he wouldn’t beat him simply for speaking up. “Her nurturing and caring makes her infinitely better at her job.”

Again, you knew that there was so much personal truth in Spencer’s words. He thought that you would make an amazing mother to his children - at least theoretically. He was entirely firm in that conviction. And he thought that your natural caring made you amazing at the job you did as a Profiler. He knew this from the quality of work he witnessed you doing every single day.

You didn’t know it - but it was just one of the many things that had caused him to fall in love with you.

Oddly enough, Cyrus’ words prodded at something deep inside of you. It made you imagine a life for yourself where you weren’t spending your days witnessing horrors from unspeakable devils - but instead, at home, looking out for Spencer’s imaginary children.

You would have said it was the fear of the day, clouding your mind. But maybe it was the clarity of being so close to death that made you realize what - and who - you truly wanted out of life.

…

Hours later, after some of the hostages had been released (the ‘non-believers’ who had failed the loyalty test), Cyrus had requested that some food be sent up. Spencer gave you a sharp look when he saw the message written on one of the takeout lids.

The team would be storming in to end the hold-out at 3am. You had to somehow ensure the safety of the hostages by then.

Obviously, the fake pregnancy idea was still warping through Spencer’s mind, but you had come up with some much better.

“Cyrus,” You called out his name gently, getting his attention. “You said that you have a nursery here?”

It had come up, during his long winded bragging about how perfect the Ranch was. Something about how mothers didn’t have to raise their children alone. The children were raised as more of a ‘group effort’ and women took ‘shifts’ in the nursery, allowing the women to rest or get chores done in the interim.

“Yes, we do.” He nodded.

Spencer stared at you with his jaw set, wondering what you were doing but not daring to speak.

“I - I’ve been missing my children dearly. I was wondering if I could go to your nursery and see if they need any help? It would do my soul good to be around young ones right now. After all the commotion of these days.” You spoke meekly, trying to play the part of the shaken up, dainty woman well.

Which was too difficult, seeing as you were playing up the fear you had already experienced.

He grinned. It was a rather menacing smile, and you tried your hardest not to show any further fear, or disgust.

“That sounds like a splendid idea.” He nodded. “Christopher, why don’t you escort her down to the nursery and then come back? We need you here for our final preparations.”

You were finally falling to those gender roles that he had been pushing on you since you had arrived. He didn’t suspect a thing. He simply thought that you were a God fearing woman falling to your natural womanly instincts, needing to care for children lest your womb shrivel up and you die.

Spencer rose from his seat and Cyrus stopped him.

“Just your wife.” He said, putting a hand in front of Spencer’s chest to stop him. “There are still some things you and I need to discuss. Man to man.”

You went over to Spencer and didn’t hesitate to plant a kiss firmly on his mouth, which he returned with vigor. This one lasted only a moment - it was something precious for the two of you. You didn’t need to put on some pointed show for the men in the room.

“It’s okay.” You told Spencer quietly, brushing your fingers gently over his uninjured cheek.

You could tell that he was dying to ask you what your plan was. But he kept the words trapped in his throat, unable to speak in front of the many temperamental villains lurking about.

“Come on.” Christopher grunted.

Spencer gave you a longing look as you left. He didn’t want to think it, but as he watched your figure retreat out the door, he feared that it would be the last time he ever saw you.

…

Your plan worked flawlessly.

Getting to the nursery meant that you had unsupervised access to the women and children, especially away from Cyrus’ prying ears. Because you were a ‘delicate’ woman, nobody suspected you of having ulterior motives. You easily found a crack in Kathy, Jessica’s mother. You spotted her as the one who had made the original 9-1-1 call, wanting to get her daughter away from Cyrus. You convinced her to help you get everyone out, and you felt intense relief when you were met with a familiar face in the cellar as everyone escaped through the tunnels.

��Where’s Reid?” Morgan easily asked you, glancing behind your shoulder as if waiting for him to appear.

“He’s still up at the church.” You told him. “I had to separate off to help get the women and children out-”

“Go on, we have to get you out!” Morgan urged, trying to gently usher you along.

“We have to go get Reid!” You argued, trying to turn around.

“Go, go on, I’ll go get Reid!” He told you.

You were about to argue back, but you were cut off by a scuffle behind you.

Jessica was yelling about Cyrus - how her mother had betrayed her, tricked her.

Morgan pushed Kathy toward you and ran off screaming for Jessica. You took Kathy’s arm, gently convincing her that everything was going to be okay as you guided her the rest of the way out. You had to focus on this, convincing yourself that everything was going to be okay. You had to tell yourself that Derek was going to get Spencer out - that they were both going to be okay.

When you got outside, you were hyper focused on marching away, taking a path away from the church as directed by the officers in charge. You froze in your tracks when you heard it - an earth shattering boom. The ground beneath your feet shook. You felt a puff of hot air swell to touch your back.

You let go of Kathy’s arm and whipped around, and you couldn’t even pay attention to where she went. You almost thought you heard her weeping, but your mind couldn’t process it as your eyes were glossed in bright orange flame.

It was the church.

“Spencer?” You gasped quietly. “Spencer!”

You couldn’t help it, but you began to run toward it. Your feet carried you faster than you could think, and before you got more than a few feet across the ground, you felt a sharp grip on your upper arm.

“L/N!”

Hotch’s voice, sounding far too distant for the position he held right behind you, viciously gripping onto you as you fought against him, trying to get toward the fire - trying to get to Spencer.

“Hey! Hey! Stop it!” Hotch tried to order you around, tried to get you to stand down.

He got a hand around your waist, and you continued to kick like a wild horse, fighting against his grip as hot tears poured down your face.

“He’s in there!” You sobbed. “Spencer is still in there.”

“Calm. Down.” Hotch ordered sharply.

You collapsed back into him sobbing, all of the fight leaving your muscles at once. You couldn’t fake the reality in front of you.

“You running in there and getting hurt isn’t going to change anything.” Hotch told you quietly, a somehow distant murmur into your ear.

Through the blur of your tears and the sharp orange glow, you saw the shape of two bodies. You heard coughing as someone emerged from the blast, hobbling down the stairs at the front of the church. You forced your eyes open wider, trying to see who it was, and then:

“Y/N!” Spencer called out your name gruffly through the smoke he had inhaled, and you easily shucked off Hotch’s grip to race up the stairs to get to him.

He was leaning on Morgan for support and you were worried that he was hurt. But the moment you were close enough, he tore himself away from Morgan and the two of you met in the middle. In a pattern that was easily developing, you fell into the safety of his arms, holding him tight enough to bruise him - never wanting to let go.

“You’re so stupid, you’re so stupid! Why would you do that to me?”

You sobbed out, gripping both sides of his face, staring into his eyes, needing the recognition that he was right there, right in front of you.

He stared back with glassiness - intense fear, adrenaline, and something small that told you he was thankful for you, and needed you now more than ever.

Of course, your words were simple anger at the situation, not at Spencer himself. The terror of thinking that he was dead still pumping through your veins, causing you to shake.

“I know.” He said quietly. “I love you.”

His voice wrapped around the words so tenderly - it was the most sincere declaration you had ever heard from him. As if to say ‘I know how much that scared you. I know what this ordeal has done to us and I only meant it more because of how scared I am’.

“I love you too.” The words flew from your lips so naturally it hurt. You took a moment to recover, entirely shocked by your own lips. And then, you only found the need to say it growing more inside of you. “Spencer, I love you.”

You pulled him toward you with the grip you had on his face, and he easily met you in one of the most earth shattering kisses you had ever experienced.

It was no longer a show, it was no longer about displaying the fake marriage for someone else’s benefit - if it had ever been about that in the first place. It was about the two of you. It was about feeling that comfort, that safety. It was about the fact that your two souls were drawn together since the day you had met. The fact that you had always felt safe with each other. You had always been the other person’s shelter from the storm.

And you poured every ounce of those feelings into that kiss.

You combed your fingers through Spencer’s hair, taking a harsh grip on the back of it, holding him there so he couldn’t pull away from your lips. He wrapped his arms around your waist, fisting the back of your sweater. Both of you entirely refused to come up for oxygen, not even caring who saw the epically passionate, public display of your love for each other.

Unbeknownst to you, Morgan and Hotch exchanged a look with raised brows as it happened. You and Spencer didn’t care. You were barely perceiving the world around you as the two of you kissed.

“You know if you’re not careful, people are actually gonna think you two are married.” Morgan said, being his usual sarcastic self.

Rather than pulling away from Spencer’s lips to sass him back - you simply flipped Derek off over Spencer’s shoulder.

On the ride home, JJ handed Derek five dollars. He had the over/under that the two of you would get together before the end of the year. JJ said that it wouldn’t happen for another five years, at least. Derek handed the fiver to Emily when she reminded him that the ‘fake marriage’ bit had actually been her idea.

When Emily and JJ relayed the story to Penelope, she squealed so loudly into the phone that JJ dropped it.

Hotch pulled you aside later and warned you that the fake rings were just cheap costume jewelry that Garcia had gotten and they would tarnish soon if you kept wearing them. He also recommended that you and Spencer put in the paperwork with HR if you were ‘serious’ about the relationship. You knew that it was him wishing the two of you his best.

A few days later when you came into work and found the HR request for an update of relationship status sitting on your desk, already signed by Spencer, you couldn’t help but to smile.

...

A/N: okay, I do have to admit, the ending kind of sucks imo (like the last few paragraphs) because I highly resisted the urge to end this with 'baby making' smut where y/n is like if 'you want kids for real, then we can have kids', and then Spencer just goes nuts. because I did like the more cheesy/romantic love confession ending, and I was getting way too tired to write smut for this. idk if I should do that 'x amount of reblogs for part 2' thing or if I'm just happy with this being a standalone oneshot?? idk. if people ask for a part 2, then I will set a reblog goal for it. and I will work on a part 2 for it after Lesson Two is posted.

#star squared #Live Star Reaction #I always forget to tag these #my bad <3

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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years ago

Text

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.”

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(DISCLAIMER: All persons fictitious.)

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