#i have one for the series but not this story

[goldfades]

★ HARD LAUNCH ───JOE BURROW

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 2k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | requested by anon! kelce!sister x joe burrow, secret relationship.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | obviously, taylor swift MENTIONED!! cause of course, i just had to. big brothers jason/travis, teasing, overall fluffy read

⟢ ┈ 𝐞𝐯'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | this may be my new fav thing ever? having joe burrow, TAYLOR SWIFT, the kelces + kylie kelce in one family seems so fucking iconic and insane at the same time omg, i lowkey wanna make this a series

You don’t mean to catch his eye.

In fact, you’ve spent most of the evening trying very hard not to. At least, that’s what you’ll tell yourself later when the weight of it all feels too much, and you’re scrambling for a clean excuse to explain how it even started. Because that’s the thing about Joe Burrow—he’s not someone you plan for. He’s the unexpected storm on a clear day, knocking you off balance and leaving you to question if you’d ever been steady to begin with.

It’s Travis’s fault, really. Your brothers have this way of making themselves larger than life in every room they walk into, whether it’s Jason’s hearty laugh or Travis’s electric energy pulling people into his orbit. And you’re fine with it. Comfortable, even, in their shadows, where you can sip a beer, quietly people-watch, and dodge any unwanted attention. But tonight, at this NFL charity gala, the Kelce sibling spotlight is a little brighter, the event packed with athletes and reporters—people who know your last name. It’s harder to blend into the wallpaper, especially when you’re sandwiched between Jason’s dad jokes and Travis’s loud retelling of some outrageous offseason story.

And then there’s Joe. Sitting a few tables over, clad in a sleek black suit that fits him so well it’s borderline criminal, he looks… well, like Joe Burrow. Sharp jawline, blondish hair perfectly tousled, an air of calm confidence that somehow feels louder than any of the noise around him. He’s laughing at something—something Sam Hubbard said, probably—and you catch yourself staring just a second too long.

You’re not entirely sure who looks away first. All you know is that by the time the dessert plates are cleared and the speeches begin, you’re hyperaware of his presence. You can feel him across the room, like his attention is a physical thing brushing against your skin. It’s ridiculous, you tell yourself. He’s just... looking. It doesn’t mean anything.

Except it does.

It means everything when you’re stepping out onto the terrace for some air, your sleek, black and red YSL heels clicking softly against the stone, and you hear the door open behind you. You don’t have to turn around to know it’s him. There’s a shift in the atmosphere, a tension pulling taut like a string, and you’re suddenly grateful for the cool night air because your skin feels impossibly warm.

“You’re one of the Kelces, right?” His voice is low, a little rough around the edges, and somehow more disarming than you expected.

You glance over your shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “Depends. Do you think that’s a good thing or a bad thing?”

He chuckles, stepping closer. There’s a deliberateness to his movements, like he’s not the type to rush but always knows exactly where he’s going. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“Fair.” You turn fully now, leaning back against the railing. He’s even more striking up close, the sharp lines of his face softened by the golden glow of the terrace lights. For a moment, you’re not sure what to say. Then, because your brothers raised you to never back down from a challenge, you smirk. “And you’re Joe Burrow. Didn’t think you’d need an introduction.”

“I don’t. But I’m still glad we’re having this conversation.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t stop the small laugh that escapes. “Do lines like that usually work for you?”

“Don’t know,” he says, leaning casually against the railing beside you. “You tell me.”

And just like that, you’re hooked. Not in the obvious way, where fireworks explode and violins play in the background. It’s subtler than that, a slow burn you feel deep in your gut—like the start of something you shouldn’t want but can’t seem to resist. Because Joe Burrow isn’t the kind of guy you go looking for, but now that he’s found you, you’re not sure you want him to let go.

And a few months later, the relationship between you and Joe isn’t just an open secret—it’s become a storm of speculation. The internet sleuths had started piecing things together long before either of you admitted it, thanks to vague Instagram posts, overlapping locations and that one time someone spotted you in the background of a Bengals training camp photo.

Still, you’ve both remained tight-lipped, dodging questions and letting the rumors simmer on their own. It’s worked so far, but keeping something like this under wraps when your last name is Kelce and his is Burrow? It feels impossible most days.

The rumors, though, are front and center when Jason and Travis bring it up on New Heights. It starts innocently enough—one of their usual tangents about social media chaos. But then Jason, ever the instigator, leans in with a mischievous grin.

“So, Trav,” he says, dragging it out just enough to make Travis squint suspiciously. “What’s this I’m hearing about our baby sister and a certain quarterback?”

Travis groans dramatically, throwing his head back like he’s already tired of the conversation. “Man, here we go.”

“No, no, seriously,” Jason presses, laughing. “It’s all over Twitter. ‘Joe and the Kelce Sister’—people are going crazy.”

Travis tries to deflect, muttering something about people needing hobbies, but Jason isn’t letting it go.

“I mean, listen,” Jason continues, grinning directly at the camera now. “I’m not saying I believe it, but if it were true… Joe Burrow? Not a bad pick, kid. Not a bad pick.”

Travis finally gives in, throwing up his hands. “Alright, alright! Let’s settle this once and for all.” He swivels toward the camera with exaggerated seriousness. “Get her on the phone.”

The producers, who are clearly loving this, cut to a break while Travis pulls out his phone and FaceTimes you. You answer after a couple of rings, your face appearing on screen with a mix of amusement and mild annoyance.

“What do you want?” you ask, already bracing yourself.

Jason wastes no time. “Alright, tell the people: are you or are you not dating Joe Burrow?”

You roll your eyes, trying not to laugh. “Seriously? That’s why you called me?”

“Yes, seriously!” Jason says, leaning forward like he’s trying to peer through the phone. “I need to know if I should be worried about a potential Bengals-Kelce family feud.”

“I’m not even answering that,” you say, shaking your head. “You guys are ridiculous.”

“Okay, okay,” Travis cuts in, holding up his hands. “But just… hypothetically, if you were dating him, what would you say about the guy? Like, first impressions.”

You narrow your eyes at the screen, knowing exactly what he’s trying to do. But you can’t help it—you smirk, your tone deliberately nonchalant. “I mean, hypothetically… he’s not a bad-looking person.”

Both brothers lose it, Jason practically howling with laughter while Travis points dramatically at the camera. “Not a bad-looking person!” he repeats. “That’s all we’re getting?”

You shrug, keeping your expression as deadpan as possible. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Alright, fine,” Jason says, wiping his eyes. “We’ll let you off the hook for now. But just know, we’re watching.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you hang up. But the damage is done—the clip is bound to go viral within hours. And you know the internet will analyze every single word you just said, dissecting it for confirmation that, yes, Joe Burrow and a Kelce sibling are absolutely a thing.

As you sit back on your couch, phone buzzing with texts from friends who caught the livestream, you can’t help but wonder how long you and Joe can keep this secret before it all inevitably comes spilling out. But for now, you smile to yourself, thinking about the way Joe teased you about your brothers earlier that morning. He’d probably find this whole thing hilarious.

—

The off-season brings a rare stretch of peace for both you and Joe, a time when the usual chaos of his schedule fades into long days and quiet nights. You’d been looking forward to the annual Kelce family lake trip all year, a week of boat rides, bonfires, and general shenanigans with your brothers, their partners, and a rotating cast of nieces and nephews. But this time, Joe is here too, woven seamlessly into the fabric of your family life in a way that's both surreal and comforting.

The trip itself is perfect. Joe is surprisingly great at keeping up with the Kelce energy—he plays cornhole with Travis like they’ve been doing it for years, listens patiently to Jason’s never-ending dad stories, and even lets your mom convince him to try her "world-famous" potato salad (a task not taken lightly). Your dad, famously hard to impress, quietly declares Joe "a good kid," which might as well be a five-star review.

The vibe is even more electric this year, thanks to a certain high-profile addition to the Kelce orbit: Taylor Swift. She’d tagged along with Travis, her easy charm and megawatt presence somehow blending seamlessly with your loud, loving family. Taylor and Joe hit it off surprisingly well—you’d caught them once, deep in conversation about some indie band neither of them expected the other to know. And when Taylor found out Joe was a secret Swiftie, she’d teased him mercilessly, promising to quiz him on song lyrics over dinner.

The two of you have been careful so far, sticking to the usual boundaries when phones are out and cameras are snapping. But then comes the moment. The hard launch.

You don’t know he’s planning it. It’s Joe, after all—calm, collected, never one to do anything impulsive without a hundred layers of thought. The picture goes live on his Instagram late in the afternoon, just as the sun is starting to dip below the trees.

The photo is subtle in that effortless, Joe Burrow way, but anyone with eyes can see what it is. It’s a snapshot of the dock, golden light reflecting off the water. You’re sitting with your back to the camera, legs dangling off the edge, wearing an oversized Bengals hoodie that could only belong to one person. Joe’s in the frame too, though only partially—just his legs stretched out next to you, and his hand resting casually on your knee. There’s no caption, just the kind of emoji Joe loves to use, simple and vague—a single wave 🌊

The internet explodes.

You realize it’s out when your phone starts buzzing nonstop, notifications lighting up your screen like fireworks. Group texts, Instagram DMs, Twitter tags—everyone and their mom has an opinion about the post. Your brothers are the first to call.

Joe wanders into the kitchen then, shirtless and still damp from a swim, his hair curling slightly from the lake water. He raises an eyebrow when he sees you on the phone, and you wave him over, switching to speaker.

“Speaking of,” Jason says loudly. “Joey! Nice post, buddy.”

Joe smirks, leaning casually against the counter. “Thanks. Figured it was time.”

“Time?!” Travis is howling now. “You just dropped the most casual ‘we’re dating’ announcement of all time, and all you’ve got is ‘figured it was time’?”

Joe shrugs, unbothered. “Seemed like the right vibe.”

Jason sighs dramatically. “Well, congrats, I guess. You’re officially one of us now.”

“Welcome to the family,” Travis chimes in, still laughing. “But just know, you’re never gonna live this down.”

Joe grins, glancing at you, his expression softening. “I can handle it.”

Later that night, as the two of you sit by the fire, Taylor strumming a guitar nearby while your brothers argue about s’mores ratios, your phone buzzes intermittently with notifications. You can’t help but marvel at how unshaken Joe is by all of it. He just laughs when you bring it up, pulling you closer and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Let them talk,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “We’ve got nothing to hide anymore.”

And as the fire crackles and your family’s laughter drifts through the night, you realize he’s right. The world knows now, and somehow, it doesn’t feel scary—it feels freeing.

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, in every life ࿐‧₊ house of m - bittersweet

chapter summary: Logan wakes up in a distorted reality created by Wanda. Everything is far too perfect, including the fact you're alive and well.

word count: 9.5k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: so this series, i love you, in every life, are all mainly oneshots of the lives you and logan have in the multiverse. unless i specify, they all are oneshots!

anyways, i wanted to do something a little different and this was actually my first idea for the multiverse concept between logan and reader. enjoy!

and, an extra note, thank y'all so much for 1k followers! i've truly had the most fun writing these stories and hearing your feedback!

warnings/tags: loosely based on 'house of m' story-line, mentioned heart problems, mentioned cardiac arrest, mentioned character death, not proofread

series masterlist

The early morning light filtered through the tall windows of the Xavier Academy. Logan sat up in bed, the tangled sheets barely covering the muscles of his broad chest. The warm smell of coffee and freshly baked bread wafted in from the kitchen. For a moment, he let himself linger, staring at the peaceful room.

It felt wrong.

The woman standing at the counter—you—shouldn’t have been here. Your laugh as you scolded the toaster for burning the bread shouldn’t have existed. And yet, it did.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” you said, your voice soft but teasing. You turned, a mug in hand, wearing one of his old flannel shirts that hung loosely over your frame. “Didn’t think you’d ever wake up. I was about to eat breakfast without you.”

Logan grunted, “maybe you should’ve.”

“Grumpy already?” You set the mug on the table near him. “You didn’t even try the coffee yet.”

He took the mug but didn’t drink. Instead, he studied your face—so familiar, so perfect. Your hair was tousled from sleep, your smile easy, as though you didn’t carry the weight of a dozen deaths. You didn’t remember them, but he did. And yet, you looked at him like you always had in those other lives, with affection, curiosity, and warmth.

“What?” you asked, tilting her head.

Logan shook his head and finally took a sip. “Nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing. It was everything.

---

Later that day, Logan stood outside the academy’s training grounds, watching students practice their powers under your guidance. You stood at the center of the group, gesturing with animated hands as you instructed a young telekinetic mutant on control.

“That’s it,” you encouraged, your voice carrying over the field. “Focus on the edges of what you can feel, not just the center. You’ll find more strength there.”

The student grinned as a boulder hovered unsteadily in the air, then dropped it with a soft thud.

“Good! You’re getting it!” you cheered, clapping your hands.

Logan couldn’t take his eyes off you. It wasn’t just the joy you exuded or the way you brought out the best in people. It was the fact that you seemed to belong here, as if this world had always been yours.

Except it hadn’t.

He leaned against the railing, lighting a cigar as Magneto’s words from yesterday echoed in his mind: “A world where mutants thrive is a world where we all belong, Logan. Why fight against it?”

But Logan knew better. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t real. And he was starting to think the cracks in this illusion were beginning to show.

Logan stubbed his cigar out on the metal railing, his jaw tight. Watching you laugh with the students made his chest ache in a way he hadn’t let himself feel in a long time. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen that smile, those bright eyes so full of life, but it still hit him like a gut punch.

It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

He crossed the field to where you stood, finishing up with the young telekinetic. The boulder wobbled again before thudding to the ground, earning a small cheer from the group.

“Take five, guys,” you said, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “But don’t wander too far—we’re not done yet.”

The students scattered, leaving you alone with Logan as he approached. You tilted your head, giving him a curious look.

“What’s up, honey?” you asked, crossing your arms.

Logan’s lips twitched at the nickname. You’d called him that in another life, a long time ago—at least that’s what it felt like. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, trying to find the right words, but everything felt too big to say out loud.

“You’re good with them,” he finally said, nodding toward the students.

Your smile grew, soft and pleased. “They’re easy to work with. Just need someone to believe in them.” You stepped closer, tilting your head to study him. “What’s really on your mind, Logan? You’ve been watching me like I’ve got a third eye.”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re not wrong.”

“Care to elaborate?”

Logan looked away, his gaze falling on the boulder the kid had been lifting. “This place,” he said after a beat. “Feels too good to be true, don’t it?”

You frowned, stepping closer so you could look up at him. “What do you mean?”

“This,” he said, gesturing vaguely to the field, the academy, and then to you. “All of it.”

Your brows knit together, and your voice softened. “Logan, what’s going on? You’ve been acting... off.”

Logan’s eyes snapped back to yours. He wanted to tell you everything—to unload the weight he carried, to make you understand that none of this was what it seemed. But how could he, when you were at the center of it all?

“I’m fine,” he said gruffly, turning to walk away.

You grabbed his arm, your touch grounding him. “Don’t do that,” you said. “Don’t shut me out. Not after everything.”

Logan froze. The sincerity in your voice cut through him like a knife. He turned back to face you, his eyes searching yours. “After everything, huh?” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “You don’t even know the half of it, darlin’.”

You blinked, startled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but the sound of Magneto’s voice interrupted him.

“Logan,” Erik called from across the yard, his tone calm but commanding. “A word.”

Logan clenched his jaw, then glanced back at you. “I’ll catch you later.”

“Logan—”

But he was already walking away.

---

Inside the academy’s briefing room, Logan leaned against the wall, arms crossed as Magneto stood at the head of the table.

“You’ve been restless,” Erik said, watching him closely.

Logan snorted. “Restless? That what you’re callin’ it?”

Erik’s gaze didn’t waver. “I know what you’re thinking. That this world isn’t real. That it’s an illusion.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed. “And you’re okay with that?”

“I am,” Erik said simply. “Because it’s a better world. A world where mutants thrive, where humans no longer threaten us, and where the people we love are alive.”

Logan’s chest tightened. “It ain’t real, Erik. None of it is. And when it all comes crashin’ down, what then?”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Erik said. “But you? You’re torn. I see the way you look at her, Logan. Y/N’s alive here. Isn’t that enough?”

Logan pushed off the wall, his fists clenched. “You think I don’t want this to be real? You think I don’t wanna believe that she’s really here, laughin’ and smilin’ like she used to?” He shook his head, his voice dropping. “But it ain’t real. And if I let myself believe it is... I lose her all over again.”

Erik’s expression softened, just slightly. “Sometimes, Logan, the illusion is better than the truth.”

“Not for me,” Logan growled, turning on his heel and storming out.

---

You found Logan later that night in the library, nursing a drink and staring out the window. The moonlight cast a faint glow over his rugged features, and he looked older, more tired than usual.

“Didn’t think you were the library type,” you said, leaning against the doorframe.

He didn’t turn around. “Couldn’t sleep.”

You stepped closer, sliding into the chair across from him. “Wanna talk about it?”

Logan glanced at you, his eyes dark and unreadable. “You ever feel like somethin’ ain’t right, but you can’t put your finger on it?”

You frowned, leaning forward. “Sometimes. Why?”

He hesitated, then sighed. “This world... It’s too perfect, Y/N. Too... clean. Like it’s all been stitched together from pieces that don’t quite fit.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “What are you saying, Logan?”

“I’m sayin’...” He trailed off, his gaze dropping to his drink. “I’m sayin’ I don’t think this is real. Any of it.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Logan, that’s... That’s a lot to drop on…” You trailed off, almost like someone cut off your train of thought and replaced it with a new one. “But if things are better now, isn’t that good?”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and he leaned back in his chair, swirling the liquid in his glass. His gaze didn’t leave yours, but his expression hardened, like he was fighting to keep something buried.

“Good for who, darlin’?” His voice was low, rough, and filled with a tension that made your stomach twist.

You frowned. “For us. For the kids. For everyone.” You gestured vaguely toward the window. “Logan, this—whatever it is—it’s not perfect, but it’s better than what we’ve had before, isn’t it? You’re not running. I’m not… gone.”

His hand froze mid-motion, the glass hovering just shy of his lips. He set it down carefully, his movements deliberate, like he was holding himself back.

“That’s the problem,” he said, voice quieter now but no less intense. “You shouldn’t be here.”

You blinked, confusion knitting your brows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He hesitated, his fingers curling into a fist on the table. “You don’t remember, do you?”

“Remember what?”

Logan leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at you like you held all the answers to questions he was too afraid to ask. His voice softened, tinged with something that sounded almost like guilt.

“You died,” he said, the words landing heavy between you.

Your breath caught, the room seeming to close in around you. “Logan…”

“I saw it,” he continued, his voice rough and unsteady. “You had a heart attack. Dropped dead to the ground and only survived because Jean did chest compressions until the ambulance came. You were only in the hospital for two hours before you had another one. They said it was an undiagnosed hypertrophic cardiomyopathy.”

Logan’s voice cracked slightly as he leaned back in his chair, his gaze locked on you. “You were too damn young for somethin’ like that.” His knuckles were white as he gripped the edge of the table. “One minute, we were talkin’ about dinner plans, and the next... you were gone.”

You stared at him, the weight of his words pressing down on your chest. “Logan, I—” You stopped, searching his face for something, anything that would make sense of what he was saying. “That doesn’t make any sense. I’m here. I’m fine.”

He exhaled sharply, the sound almost a growl. “That’s what’s wrong with all this, darlin’. You’re here, smilin’, laughin’—but you’re not supposed to be. You died.” His voice softened, but it didn’t lose its edge. “And now you’re here, like it never happened.”

You blinked, trying to process what he was saying. “I don’t—Logan, do you hear yourself? That’s insane.” You rubbed at your temples, a headache creeping in. “I didn’t die. I’d remember if something like that happened.”

He let out a bitter laugh, the sound low and filled with frustration. “That’s just it. You don’t remember because this place—it’s not real.”

You froze, your hand dropping to the table. “What are you talking about?”

Logan leaned forward again, his hands clenched into fists on the table. “Wanda,” he said, his voice rough. “She made this... world. A perfect little picture where everyone’s happy, where the people we lost are back.”

You stared at him, your mind racing. “Wanda? What does she have to do with this?”

“She’s the reason you’re here, sweetheart,” Logan said, his gaze unwavering. “She did this for her own reasons, but you—she brought you back too.”

You shook your head, standing up abruptly. “No. That doesn’t make sense. Why would Wanda do something like that? And why... why me?”

Logan’s jaw tightened as he stood, his height and presence suddenly overwhelming. “Because she cared about you. She couldn’t stand what happened. Hell, I couldn’t stand it either.” His voice softened, and he took a step closer. “But it ain’t real, Y/N. No matter how much I want it to be.”

You stepped back, your pulse pounding in your ears. “You’re saying this—me being here—is some kind of... illusion? Like I’m not even real?”

“No,” Logan said quickly, his voice firm. “You’re real, darlin’. But this world? It ain’t. It’s Wanda’s doin’. She twisted everything to give us what we wanted.” He paused, his expression conflicted. “And I’m guessin’ she thought I wanted you.”

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. “And do you? Want me here, I mean?”

Logan’s expression softened, the hard lines of his face easing as he stepped closer. “You think I’d ever not want you here?” His voice was low, rough with emotion. “Every time I lost you, it felt like I lost a part of myself. You think I don’t want this? That I don’t want to wake up every damn day and see you smilin’ at me?”

Your breath caught as he reached out, his hand brushing against yours. The warmth of his touch was grounding, even as everything else spun out of control.

“But it ain’t real,” he continued, his voice heavy with regret. “And if I start believin’ it is... I’ll lose you all over again when it falls apart.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening. “Logan, if this isn’t real, then... what happens to me?”

He flinched, the question hitting him like a punch to the gut. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I’ll be damned if I let it happen without a fight.”

You closed your eyes, trying to steady yourself. The room felt too small, too overwhelming. “I need... I need to think,” you said, stepping back.

Logan let you go, his hand falling to his side. “Take all the time you need, darlin’,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “Just don’t forget—no matter what happens, I’m here. Always.”

You nodded, your throat too tight to respond, and turned to leave. But as you walked away, his words echoed in your mind, filling the silence with a truth you weren’t sure you were ready to face.

---

You found Wanda standing by the edge of the mansion’s sprawling grounds, her gaze distant as if she were watching something far beyond what anyone else could see. Her crimson coat fluttered lightly in the breeze, and the energy around her felt heavier than usual—a tension you couldn’t quite place.

“Wanda?” you called, your voice trembling slightly.

She turned, her expression calm but with a faint shadow behind her eyes. “Hey,” she greeted softly. “You okay?”

You took a deep breath and stepped closer, trying to steady your racing thoughts. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “Something feels... off. I mean, this place—everything—it’s almost too perfect, you know?”

Wanda’s lips quirked into a small, unreadable smile. “Too perfect? That’s not something I hear often.”

You hesitated, unsure how to put your swirling thoughts into words. “Logan said something. He said—” You stopped, your voice faltering as her gaze locked onto yours.

“What did Logan say?” she asked, her tone calm but carrying an undercurrent of something sharper.

“That this... all of this... isn’t real,” you said slowly, watching her reaction. “He thinks you... made it all up. That you brought me back somehow. Is that true?”

Wanda’s expression softened, her eyes filled with something like sorrow. “Y/N, why would he say something like that? You’re here. You’re alive. Isn’t that what matters?”

“That’s not an answer,” you countered, stepping closer. “Wanda, please. I need to know. Am I—” Your voice cracked, but you pushed on. “Am I real? Is any of this real?”

For a moment, Wanda’s face flickered with something—guilt, maybe? Or hesitation? Then she reached out, placing her hands gently on your shoulders.

“Y/N,” she said, her voice soft and soothing. “You’re overthinking this. You’ve been through so much; it’s natural to feel... disoriented.”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “This isn’t just me overthinking. Logan said—”

Her eyes glowed faintly red, and the air seemed to hum around you. “Logan’s been through a lot too. Sometimes he... struggles to separate the past from the present.”

Her words made sense—or at least, they should have. But there was a nagging doubt in the back of your mind, a thread you couldn’t quite pull free.

“Wanda, I—”

“Shh,” she murmured, her hands moving to cradle your face. The red glow in her eyes intensified. “You don’t need to worry about this, Y/N. Just... let it go.”

The hum grew louder, and a sudden wave of warmth flooded your mind, like slipping into a deep, dreamless sleep. The doubts, the questions, the gnawing sense of unease—they all seemed to dissolve, leaving behind only a gentle calm.

You blinked, your thoughts fuzzy. “What was I saying?”

Wanda smiled, her hands dropping to her sides. “Nothing important. You’re just tired, that’s all. Why don’t you take a break? Go spend some time with Logan. He’s been worried about you.”

You nodded slowly, the lingering haze in your mind making it hard to argue. “Yeah... maybe you’re right.”

Wanda watched you walk away, her expression unreadable as she turned back to the horizon. The faint glow in her eyes dimmed, and the breeze carried a whisper of her voice, too soft for anyone to hear.

“I’m sorry.”

---

From the shadows, Logan watched as you disappeared into the mansion. His jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. He’d seen Wanda’s subtle hand movements, the faint glimmer of red that surrounded you as she spoke.

“She took it outta her head,” Logan muttered to himself, his voice rough with anger. “Dammit, Wanda.”

The truth hadn’t just been hidden—it had been stolen from you. And Logan knew he’d have to find a way to get it back.

---

Logan leaned against the doorway of your shared room, arms crossed tightly over his chest. The dim light from the bedside lamp cast a warm glow over you as you flipped through a magazine, completely at ease. Your relaxed posture, your soft smile—it all seemed so real. But Logan knew better.

You glanced up, your eyes lighting up when you saw him. “Hey,” you greeted, setting the magazine aside. “How long have you been lurking there?”

“Long enough,” Logan said, his voice rough but tinged with affection. He walked in, pulling the chair from the corner and spinning it around to sit backward, arms resting on the backrest. “We need to talk, darlin’.”

The tone of his voice caught your attention, and you straightened slightly. “That sounds serious. What’s going on?”

He took a deep breath, his gaze meeting yours. “It’s about Wanda. About all of this.”

You frowned, tilting your head. “What about Wanda?”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and his fists clenched against the chair. “This... this world we’re livin’ in? It ain’t real. She made it.”

Your brows furrowed, and you leaned forward, confusion flickering in your eyes. “Logan, what are you talking about? Of course, it’s real. We’re here. We’re together.”

“That’s the problem,” he said, his voice heavy. “It’s too perfect. Think about it. The mansion’s in one piece. No one’s fightin’. You’re here. Alive.”

You blinked, the weight of his words hitting you like a sudden gust of wind. “What do you mean, I’m alive? Why wouldn’t I be?”

Logan hesitated, the memory of losing you—your last breath, the stillness that followed—flashing behind his eyes. He rubbed a hand over his face, sighing. “You don’t remember, do you? We had this conversation a few hours ago. You died, a few months ago.”

You stared at him, your voice steady but softer than usual. “Even if it’s not real, why can’t you just accept it?”

Logan’s brow furrowed, his jaw tightening as he leaned forward in his chair. “Because it ain’t real, darlin’. You know me. I don’t do ‘perfect.’ This—” he gestured vaguely, his fingers flexing—“this whole thing? It’s like livin’ in a dream, but dreams don’t last. They break. And when this one does...” He trailed off, his throat working around unspoken words.

“Maybe it doesn’t have to break,” you said quietly, your eyes locked on his. “Maybe we could just let it be.”

“That’s not how it works, sweetheart,” Logan said, shaking his head. His voice was rough, the weight of years pressing down on each word. “I’ve seen too much, lost too much, to believe in fairy tales. And this? This is Wanda’s doing. It ain’t right.”

You exhaled slowly, sitting back on the bed. “Logan, why does it matter if it’s real or not? If it feels real—if we’re together, happy—why can’t that be enough for you?”

Logan let out a sharp breath, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Because you died, Y/N,” he snapped, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “I held you, felt your heartbeat stop. I buried you, darlin’. That’s real. That’s what I remember.”

The room fell silent except for the faint hum of the lamp. You looked at him, your expression unreadable, before speaking softly. “And now I’m here.”

“That ain’t how it works!” Logan growled, his voice rising before he caught himself. He ran a hand through his hair, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he tried to rein in his frustration. “People don’t just come back. Not like this. You know it, Wanda knows it, and—dammit—you should know it too.”

“I know you’re hurting,” you said, leaning forward and placing a hand on his arm. “But what if this was her way of fixin’ things? Of givin’ us another chance?”

Logan stared at your hand on his arm, his jaw clenching tightly. “She didn’t ‘fix’ anything,” he said after a long pause, his voice low. “She twisted it. Made somethin’ up ‘cause she couldn’t face the truth. That’s not the same.”

“And what’s the truth, Logan?” you challenged, your voice firm but still gentle. “That I’m gone? That you’re supposed to just keep going, living in that pain forever? What’s wrong with her wantin’ to take some of that away?”

Logan’s eyes flicked to yours, a storm brewing behind them. “It ain’t about me, darlin’. It’s about you. She’s playin’ with your life like it’s a toy, like it’s somethin’ she can rewrite when she feels like it.”

You hesitated, your grip on his arm tightening slightly. “If I’m here now—if I get to wake up every day and see you, talk to you, love you—then maybe it’s worth it.”

He stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. “You don’t understand,” he said, pacing a few steps before turning back to face you. “When this falls apart—and it will—it’s gonna tear us both to pieces. Again.”

“Maybe it won’t,” you countered, standing to meet his gaze. “Maybe it can last.”

Logan scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re just sayin’ that ‘cause she made sure you’d believe it.”

“Or maybe,” you said, your voice rising slightly, “I’m sayin’ it ‘cause I want to believe it. Because I choose to.”

The weight of your words hung between you, the space between you both charged with unspoken emotions. Logan’s fists clenched at his sides, his chest heaving as he stared at you.

“You really think this is what you want?” he asked, his tone softer but still laced with frustration. “To live in somethin’ that ain’t real, just ‘cause it feels good?”

“Yes,” you said simply, your voice unwavering. “Because being with you? It feels right.”

Logan closed his eyes for a moment, his shoulders slumping slightly. When he looked at you again, there was something raw and vulnerable in his gaze. “You deserve better than some fake life, Y/N. You deserve somethin’ real.”

You stepped closer, placing your hand on his cheek. He didn’t pull away. “And maybe, for me, this is real. You’re here. I’m here. That’s all I need.”

His hand came up to cover yours, his calloused fingers rough against your skin. “Darlin’,” he murmured, his voice breaking slightly, “if I lose you again...”

“You won’t,” you whispered, your thumb brushing his cheek. “I’m here, Logan. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

He didn’t respond, just pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if you might disappear at any moment. The warmth of his embrace was familiar, comforting, and for a moment, it felt like maybe you could convince him. Maybe you could make him believe.

But deep down, you knew Logan’s grip on reality was stronger than your faith in this world.

---

“Hey! I was gonna ask you to explain quantum—” Peter cut himself off from his excited question, only to quickly turn his head behind him like he sensed something.

“Peter?” you asked, tilting your head as you watched him freeze mid-step. “Everything alright?”

Peter blinked rapidly, his usual boyish energy dimmed as his gaze darted between you and the empty hallway behind him. He scratched the back of his neck, forcing a sheepish smile. “Yeah, yeah. Totally fine. Just thought I heard something, but, uh, guess it was nothing. Mansion’s old, you know? Creaky floors and all that.”

You narrowed your eyes, not quite buying his excuse. “Since when do creaky floors freak you out? You’re Spider-Man, Peter.”

He laughed nervously, adjusting the strap of his backpack. “True, but, you know, sometimes even Spider-Men get spooked by weird noises. Occupational hazard.”

“Uh-huh,” you replied, crossing your arms. “What were you gonna ask me before you got distracted?”

“Oh, right!” Peter brightened slightly, though there was still a flicker of unease in his expression. “I was gonna ask if you could explain quantum entanglement again. I swear, I’ve read about it like a million times, but my brain just refuses to cooperate.”

Before you could answer, Logan’s voice echoed from down the hallway. “Parker. Got a minute?”

Peter turned, relief flashing across his face like Logan had just handed him a lifeline. “Uh, yeah! Sure thing, Mr. Logan. I mean, Logan. I mean, uh—”

“Just get over here,” Logan said gruffly, jerking his head toward the corner.

You frowned as Peter shot you a quick, apologetic grin before hurrying off to join Logan. Something about the exchange felt... off. Logan had been acting strange ever since your conversation earlier, and now Peter seemed jittery too.

“Logan?” you called after them, but neither turned back.

Curiosity gnawed at you as you debated whether to follow. Ultimately, you decided to let it go—for now. Whatever they were discussing, it could wait.

---

“What’s goin’ on, kid?” Logan asked, his tone low as Peter reached him. He glanced over Peter’s shoulder to make sure you hadn’t followed.

Peter shifted uncomfortably, his usual confidence faltering under Logan’s intense gaze. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding... crazy, but—does something feel... wrong to you? Like, about all of this?”

Logan crossed his arms, his expression hardening. “You pickin’ up on that too?”

“Yeah,” Peter admitted. “I mean, I wasn’t gonna say anything because it’s, like, Wanda. And she’s scary enough when she’s not messing with reality, but now... I don’t know, man. It’s like I can feel the edges of it. Like it’s all just... holding together by duct tape or something.”

Logan nodded slowly. “You’re not wrong. This whole thing—it ain’t real. It’s Wanda’s doin’. She created all this.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “So, what do we do? I mean, if it’s not real, we can’t just—”

“We’re not doin’ anything yet,” Logan interrupted, his voice firm. “First, we gotta figure out how deep this goes. She’s got Y/N wrapped up in it, convinced it’s all sunshine and rainbows.”

Peter’s face fell. “Does Y/N know?”

Logan let out a frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair. “She knows what I told her, but Wanda’s got her so tied up in this illusion, she doesn’t wanna believe it. Thinks maybe this is better than the real thing.”

Peter hesitated, glancing back toward the direction you’d gone. “Do you think she’s right? About it being better, I mean.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his voice dropping to a near growl. “No. ‘Cause when this all comes crashin’ down, it’ll hurt her worse than losin’ it the first time. And I’m not lettin’ that happen.”

Peter nodded, his usual quips forgotten in the weight of the moment. “Alright. Just tell me what you need me to do.”

“For now? Keep this between us,” Logan said. “And keep an eye on her. If Wanda tries to mess with her head again, you let me know.”

“You got it,” Peter said, his tone more serious than Logan was used to hearing.

Logan clapped a hand on the kid’s shoulder. “Good. Now get outta here before she gets suspicious.”

Peter gave a quick salute and took off down the hallway, leaving Logan alone with his thoughts.

---

When Logan finally made his way back to your shared room, he found you sitting on the edge of the bed, your arms wrapped around your knees. You looked up as he entered, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Hey. What was that about with Peter?”

“Kid just had some questions,” Logan said, brushing off the topic as he closed the door behind him.

“Uh-huh,” you said, your tone skeptical. “And you couldn’t have answered them in front of me because...?”

Logan sighed, running a hand through his hair as he moved to sit beside you on the bed. “It wasn’t anything important, sweetheart. Just somethin’ about training.”

You studied him for a moment, your gaze searching his face. “You’ve been acting weird ever since we talked about Wanda earlier. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Logan hesitated, his instincts warring with his desire to protect you. Finally, he let out a heavy breath. “Darlin’, I told you everything I know. This ain’t real. But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop tryin’ to keep you safe.”

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “I’m not scared, Logan. Whatever this is, we’ll figure it out together. Okay?”

He looked at you, his heart aching with the weight of everything he couldn’t say. Instead, he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Yeah, okay,” he murmured.

But deep down, he knew the fight was far from over.

---

The illusion Wanda created was starting to fracture, but only those closest to her could see it. To everyone else, it was as if the world had always been this way—serene, idyllic, perfect. For Logan, it was anything but. He watched carefully, taking note of small inconsistencies no one else seemed to notice: the same bird flying in the same pattern every morning, children laughing at nothing, and the way the sun never seemed to fully set, as though Wanda didn’t have the energy to finish the day.

He wasn’t the only one noticing. Erik, though far subtler in his observations, had begun pulling Wanda aside more often, his sharp gaze never leaving her. Meanwhile, the Avengers who were scattered across this fabricated utopia seemed to be... different. Thor had grown quieter, almost distant, his booming laugh no longer ringing through the mansion. Natasha occasionally paused mid-conversation, her expression going blank for a moment before she’d snap back to herself. Steve? He smiled too much, too wide, like he was trying to convince himself this world was real.

But for you, things had only grown more complicated.

---

The evening light filtered through the mansion's wide windows, painting everything in golden hues. You sat on the couch, flipping through an old book. Logan entered, his steps heavy, his expression unreadable. You glanced up, offering him a soft smile.

“Hey, darlin’,” he said, his voice low as he settled beside you.

“Hey yourself,” you replied, setting the book down. “Rough day?”

“You could say that.” He hesitated, his gaze drifting toward the window. “You ever feel like somethin’ ain’t right? Like... this place, this whole damn thing, is holdin’ its breath?”

You frowned. “Logan, we’ve talked about this. I know you’re still adjusting—”

“Adjustin’?” he cut in, his tone sharper than he intended. “This ain’t about me. It’s about you. About what’s real and what ain’t.”

You stiffened slightly, your heart sinking. “Logan, we’ve been through this. I am real. I don’t know why you keep doubting that.”

“Because this world ain’t real, sweetheart,” he said, his frustration clear. “It’s Wanda’s doin’. And I think, deep down, you know that too.”

You shook your head, your voice rising slightly. “So what, you think I’m just... some figment of her imagination? That I’m not really here?”

“I think she brought you back,” he said softly, his eyes locking onto yours. “But not like you think. And now it’s all startin’ to fall apart.”

You wanted to argue, to insist that he was wrong, but his words planted a seed of doubt that you couldn’t shake. “If this world is falling apart,” you said carefully, “then why are we still here? Why is Wanda still holding it together?”

“Maybe she’s tryin’ to keep you,” he replied. “Maybe you’re the reason she did all this in the first place.”

The air between you grew heavy, and for the first time, you found yourself unable to meet his gaze.

---

Elsewhere in the mansion, the cracks in reality were becoming impossible to ignore.

In the kitchen, Storm froze mid-motion, a glass slipping from her hand and shattering on the floor. She blinked rapidly, confusion washing over her face. “Where... where am I?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Tony Stark stood in the hallway, staring at a photo on the wall. In it, he stood beside Steve, Thor, and Natasha, all of them smiling. But the faces in the photo shifted subtly, warping into something unrecognizable before snapping back to normal. “Friday,” he murmured, though his AI didn’t respond. “What the hell is going on?”

And then there was Charles. He sat in his study, his hands pressed to his temples as he tried to focus. “Wanda,” he whispered, his voice strained. “You need to stop this. It’s breaking.”

But Wanda, standing in her room, refused to listen. Her fingers trembled as she clutched a framed photo of you, her lips moving in a silent mantra. “It’s perfect. It has to stay perfect. They deserve this.”

The glow of her magic pulsed erratically around her, and for a moment, the world flickered. The colors dulled, the mansion creaked as if it were alive, and the faint sound of static buzzed in the air.

---

You found Wanda as she exited Billy and Tommy’s shared bedroom, her steps hesitant as she moved down the hall toward the library. Her fingers twitched at her sides, and her expression was distant, like she was lost in a storm of thoughts. You called out to her, your voice firm, cutting through the silence.

“Wanda.”

She froze mid-step, her shoulders tensing before she turned to face you. Her eyes darted to the floor for a moment, then back to you. “Y/N,” she said softly, her voice careful. “What are you doing up? It’s late.”

You crossed your arms, holding your ground. “I could ask you the same thing. What were you doing in the boys’ room?”

Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she stepped closer, her tone soothing. “I was just checking on them. Making sure they were okay.”

“Don’t,” you said sharply, taking a step back. “Don’t try to brush me off like that. We need to talk.”

“About what?” she asked, though you could see the flicker of apprehension in her eyes. “Is something wrong?”

You clenched your fists at your sides, willing yourself to stay calm. “Logan told me. About all of this. About what you’re doing. And I want the truth, Wanda—not some carefully constructed excuse. No wiping my mind, no distractions. Just tell me.”

Wanda’s lips parted as if to respond, but she faltered, her gaze dropping to the floor again. Her silence was answer enough. You took a shaky breath, pushing past the lump in your throat.

“It’s true, isn’t it? None of this is real.”

“It’s real,” she said quickly, her voice laced with desperation. “It’s real because I made it real. I did this for you, Y/N. For them.” Her hands gestured vaguely toward the hallway, where Billy and Tommy’s room was.

“And Vision,” you added quietly. The name hit her like a slap, and her expression crumpled for a brief moment before she steeled herself again.

“For all of us,” she whispered.

You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “No. You didn’t do this for all of us, Wanda. You did this for you. Because you couldn’t let go.”

Her breath hitched, and she took a step closer. “You don’t understand. You—you died, Y/N. Do you remember that? How helpless I felt when you—when I couldn’t—” She broke off, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions.

“I know I died,” you said, your voice steady despite the knot in your stomach. “Logan told me. But that doesn’t justify this.”

“You don’t understand,” she repeated, her tone defensive. “You don’t know what it was like to lose you. To lose them. It was too much, Y/N. I couldn’t—I couldn’t do it.”

Your heart twisted at the pain in her voice, but you refused to let it cloud your judgment. “So you decided to rewrite the world instead? To play god and pull us all into your grief? Wanda, you can’t keep doing this. You’re hurting everyone, including yourself.”

Her hands trembled as she reached for you, but you stepped back again. Her face crumpled, and for the first time, the cracks in her façade were fully visible.

“I didn’t mean for it to go this far,” she admitted, tears welling in her eyes. “I just wanted us to have a chance. To have peace.”

“Then show me,” you said, your voice softer now. “Show me what happened. How I died. I need to see it, Wanda.”

Her eyes widened, and she shook her head. “No. I can’t do that to you. It’s too much—it’ll hurt you.”

“I don’t care,” you said firmly. “I deserve to know. I need to know.”

Wanda hesitated, her hands clenching at her sides. “Y/N, please—”

“Please, Wanda,” you interrupted, your voice cracking. “If you care about me at all, you’ll show me.”

For a long moment, she said nothing. Then, with a shaky breath, she nodded. “Alright. But... I’m sorry.”

---

You and Logan were eating leftovers that Ororo had made earlier in the day—the two of you had been… preoccupied with something else during dinner time.

“We could go to that Chinese place you’ve been wantin’ to go to.” Logan said.

“After we go to the bookstore?” you asked sweetly, leaning back in your chair. “I want to see if they have that book I’ve been wanting.” You rolled your shoulders again, wincing slightly as a dull ache pulsed between your shoulder blades.

Logan, sitting across the table from you, gave you a look. “Still feelin’ that?” he asked, his tone sharp with concern.

You waved a hand dismissively. “It’s probably just from sitting weird or something. I’ll stretch later—it’ll be fine.”

“Darlin’, you’ve been complainin’ about that for days. And that stomach pain you had last night? Maybe you oughta talk to Jean, just to be safe.”

You sighed, a bit exasperated. “I will, Logan. Tomorrow morning, before we head out, okay?”

He didn’t look entirely convinced, but he gave a short nod. “Good. I ain’t takin’ chances with you.”

You smirked, rising from your chair with your plate in hand. “What, suddenly all cautious? Didn’t seem that way earlier when we were—”

Logan gave a low growl, his expression softening into an amused grin. “Keep talkin’, sweetheart. See where it gets ya.”

You laughed, placing the plate in the sink and rinsing it off. Over your shoulder, you teased, “Maybe I’ll save that for later. You know, give you something to look forward to.”

“You’re somethin’ else,” he muttered, shaking his head, though his lips twitched upward. You could feel his eyes on you as you moved to the fridge and grabbed two beers, popping the caps off on the counter.

“You want your usual toast to Ororo for dinner?” you joked, turning back to him with a beer in hand. “Something like ‘thanks for makin’ us look bad in the kitchen’?”

“Funny,” he deadpanned, reaching for the beer as you handed it to him. “You should quit physics and take up comedy.”

Before you could reply, a wave of dizziness washed over you, sudden and disorienting. Your vision blurred, and the edges of the room seemed to darken. The beer bottle slipped from your grasp, shattering on the floor as you staggered back.

“Y/N?” Logan’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and alarmed.

You tried to steady yourself, but your legs gave out, and you crumpled to the floor. Your chest tightened painfully, the ache between your shoulder blades now radiating outward like fire. You could barely hear Logan as the room tilted further into darkness.

“Jean!” Logan bellowed, his voice raw with panic. He was at your side in an instant, his hands trembling as he tried to rouse you. “Darlin’, stay with me. C’mon, open your eyes!”

Footsteps pounded down the hall, and then Jean and Scott burst into the kitchen. Jean dropped to her knees beside you, her fingers immediately moving to your neck to check for a pulse.

“Her heart’s stopped,” Jean said urgently, already positioning her hands on your chest. She began compressions without hesitation, her movements precise but desperate. “Scott, call 911. Now!”

Scott fumbled for his phone, his usually steady demeanor cracking as he dialed. “We need an ambulance at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. It’s an emergency—cardiac arrest.”

Logan hovered over you, his hands balled into fists as he fought the urge to intervene. “Jean, she—she just dropped. She said her back was hurtin’, her stomach—”

Jean cut him off, her tone firm. “Logan, give me space! Keep talking to her—she might still hear you.”

“Darlin’, you gotta fight this,” Logan rasped, his voice breaking. “You hear me? You ain’t quittin’ on me, not now. Not ever.”

The minutes stretched agonizingly, Jean alternating between compressions and breaths while Scott relayed information to the dispatcher. Finally, you gasped—a ragged, shallow breath that made Jean sit back in relief.

“She’s back,” Jean said, though her voice was tight with worry. “But we need to get her to the hospital. There’s something—”

Before she could finish, the sound of sirens cut through the air, and the paramedics arrived. They worked swiftly, loading you onto a stretcher and carrying you out, Logan never leaving your side until they pushed him back to allow the medics room to work.

At the hospital, hours passed in a tense blur. Jean, Scott, and Logan paced the waiting room, the latter practically wearing a groove into the floor. When a doctor finally emerged, Logan surged forward, his expression dark with worry.

“She’s stable, for now,” the doctor said carefully. “But she experienced a significant cardiac event. We’re running tests, but it appears to be hypertrophic cardiomyopathy—an undiagnosed condition.”

“And what the hell does that mean?” Logan demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

“It means her heart’s working overtime. There’s thickening in the walls, and it likely led to her arrest,” the doctor explained. “She’ll need monitoring and possibly surgery to prevent future complications.”

But you never made it that far. Two hours later, as Logan sat by your side, clutching your hand in his, the monitors began to wail. Your heart stopped again. The staff rushed in, pushing Logan aside as they tried to revive you.

This time, you didn’t come back.

---

Your eyes opened with a sharp gasp, the room spinning as you met Wanda’s tear-streaked face. Her red, glowing irises flickered and dimmed as her powers pulled back, leaving her looking more broken than you’d ever seen her. The weight of what you’d just witnessed crushed your chest—it felt too real, too vivid to be anything but the truth.

“I didn’t even get to say goodbye,” Wanda whispered, her voice trembling, the Sokovian accent she’d long suppressed slipping through as her emotions bled into every word. Her hands hovered near you, like she wanted to comfort you but didn’t know if she deserved to.

You blinked rapidly, trying to steady your breathing as the memory of your death burned in your mind. The ache between your shoulder blades and the tightness in your chest felt so fresh, so real, it was hard to remember you were sitting in front of Wanda, not in a hospital bed.

But there was no time to focus on yourself. You sat up straighter, your voice trembling but firm. “Wanda, this has to stop.”

She flinched like you’d slapped her. “No,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “You don’t mean that. You can’t mean that, Y/N.”

“I do,” you said, meeting her gaze, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. “I’m dead, Wanda. I died. And nothing you do can change that.”

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” she insisted, her voice rising, more desperate now. “I fixed it. I brought you back—I brought all of you back. Billy, Tommy, Vision—they’re here, Y/N. We can all be together, like it was supposed to be.”

“Wanda,” you said sharply, cutting her off. “This isn’t real. You didn’t fix anything. You’re just… avoiding it.”

“No!” she cried, her voice cracking. “I gave us a second chance. Isn’t that what you’d want? To see Logan again? To see the boys smiling and safe? Don’t you want this?”

Your heart twisted at the anguish in her words, but you couldn’t let it sway you. “Of course I want that. Of course I want to be with Logan, with all of you. But not like this. Not if it’s a lie.”

She stared at you, her chest rising and falling rapidly as her breathing grew uneven. “Why does it matter if it’s a lie?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “It feels real, doesn’t it? It’s real enough.”

“It matters because it’s hurting you, Wanda,” you said, your voice softening. “And it’s hurting everyone else, too. Logan knows, doesn’t he? And Erik? They’re just as trapped as you are.”

Her lips trembled, and she looked away, unable to meet your eyes. “They don’t understand,” she muttered. “They think they do, but they don’t. Erik has lost people before. Logan… he’s lost you more times than I can count. But it’s different when it’s your children, Y/N. You don’t know what that’s like.”

You hesitated, the weight of her grief pressing down on you. “No,” you admitted quietly. “I don’t. But I know what it’s like to love someone so much it hurts. And I know that love means letting go sometimes, even when it’s the hardest thing in the world.”

Her shoulders shook, and she hugged herself, as though trying to keep from falling apart. “I can’t let go,” she said, her voice so small it was almost swallowed by the silence. “I can’t lose you again. Or them. Or Vision. I can’t.”

“Wanda,” you said, your voice firm but kind. “You already lost us. I’m gone. Vision’s gone. Billy and Tommy… they were never real to begin with.” You reached out, touching her arm gently. “This isn’t peace. This is a prison you built for yourself.”

Her tears fell freely now, and she covered her face with her hands, her sobs shaking her whole body. You stood, closing the distance between you and pulling her into a hug. She stiffened at first, but then she crumpled against you, clutching your shirt like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered brokenly. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know,” you murmured, stroking her hair gently. “But it’s time to let go. It’s time to set things right.”

She pulled back just enough to look at you, her expression conflicted. “But if I let go… you’ll be gone.”

You smiled sadly, brushing a tear from her cheek. “I’ll always be with you, Wanda. But you have to let me go. You have to let all of us go.”

Her lip quivered, and she nodded slowly, though it looked like it physically hurt her. “I don’t know if I can do it,” she admitted.

“You can,” you said firmly. “You’re stronger than you think.”

Wanda closed her eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath. When she opened them, they glowed red again, her powers swirling to life around her. The walls of the room seemed to shift and crack, and the sound of children laughing echoed faintly before fading away.

“I love you, Y/N,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the tears in her eyes.

“I love you too,” you replied, squeezing her hand one last time before the world dissolved into light.

---

Logan walked to the library, his heavy boots echoing in the quiet hallways of the mansion. His hands were shoved deep in his jacket pockets, fists clenched tight. He could feel the tension in the air—a crackling weight that made his skin itch. It wasn’t just Wanda’s doing; it was him, too. He couldn’t sit back anymore. Not when he knew what was at stake.

Halfway there, Erik stepped into the hallway, his broad frame blocking Logan’s path. His expression was unreadable, but there was something sharp in his gaze.

“Outta the way, Erik,” Logan growled, his voice low and steady.

“You can’t confront her now,” Erik said, his tone just as calm, but there was a warning there. “It’s too fragile. If you push her too hard, this entire illusion could collapse violently. Do you want to hurt her more than she’s already hurting?”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his teeth grinding as he stepped closer. “This illusion is hurtin’ her. Hurtin’ all of us. She’s gotta let it go. You know that as well as I do.”

Erik didn’t move. “And if she can’t? If you force her hand and she snaps? This isn’t just about you or me or even her. Think about the others—Billy, Tommy, Vision. They’re as real to her as the air she breathes.”

Logan’s eyes darkened, a flicker of pain crossing his face. “Don’t think I don’t know that. But I lost her once. Hell, I’ve lost her more times than I can count. I ain’t gonna lose her to some damn fantasy.”

Erik’s eyes narrowed, his voice dropping. “She created this because she lost too. She’s clinging to what little she has left. Are you really ready to take it all away?”

Before Logan could respond, the walls around them began to tremble. The faint sound of children laughing echoed through the hallway, followed by a low hum of static. Logan’s sharp eyes flicked around, taking in the cracks spreading along the edges of the illusion.

“Looks like it ain’t up to me anymore,” Logan muttered, his voice grim. He pushed past Erik, who didn’t stop him this time.

As Logan stormed toward the library, the tremors grew stronger. The pristine walls of the mansion shimmered, flickering between their familiar design and something darker, rawer. By the time Logan reached the library doors, he could hear crying and hushed reassurances.

He opened the door to find you and Wanda kneeling on the ground, the former holding onto you tightly as her hands glowed red.

You looked over at Logan as the world around you shimmered red and mouthed “I love you” right before everything went white.

As the shining light faded away, the mansion reappeared around them, quiet and still. Wanda knelt on the floor, her arms outstretched toward the air where you had been moments before. Her hands fell limply through the space, trembling as she stared at the emptiness in front of her. The tears on her cheeks glistened faintly in the flickering light.

Logan stepped into the room, his heavy boots echoing against the hardwood floor. His jaw was clenched tight, his eyes dark with fury and heartbreak as he took in the sight of Wanda. She was a shadow of herself—broken, sobbing, and clutching at nothing.

“Wanda,” Logan growled, his voice low and menacing.

She flinched at the sound, her red-glowing eyes darting up to meet his. Her lips trembled, and she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Logan didn’t hesitate. He closed the distance between them in three long strides, his hands grabbing Wanda by the arms and yanking her to her feet. He slammed her back against the nearest bookshelf, the impact shaking loose a few books that thudded to the ground. His claws extended with a sharp snikt, the shining adamantium glinting dangerously as he pressed them to her throat.

“Why?” he snarled, his voice rough and ragged. “Why’d you bring her back, just to tear her away from me again?”

Wanda gasped, her hands coming up instinctively to grip his wrists. “Logan,” she choked out, her voice strained. “I—”

“No,” he snapped, cutting her off. His claws twitched, close enough to graze her skin. “You don’t get to explain it away. You don’t get to justify this. You knew what you were doin’, and you did it anyway.” His voice cracked, the raw pain bleeding through. “You brought her back, Wanda. I saw her. I held her. And now she’s gone again.”

Tears streamed down Wanda’s face as she shook her head frantically. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she whispered. “I just—I couldn’t—”

“Couldn’t what?” Logan barked, his voice rising. “Let go? Face the truth? You think you’re the only one who’s lost her? I’ve been losin’ her for centuries, Wanda. Over and over again. And every goddamn time, it breaks me. But this—” He gestured around the room with his free hand, his claws still hovering at her neck. “This was worse than any of it. This was cruel.”

Wanda sobbed openly now, her body trembling against the bookshelf. “I just wanted to fix it,” she said, her voice cracking. “I wanted us all to have a second chance—Billy, Tommy, Vision… you. I thought if I could bring her back, you’d be happy again. I thought it would make everything right.”

Logan let out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp and cutting. “Happy? You think this made me happy? Watchin’ her slip away again? Watchin’ her know what was happenin’ and still tryin’ to make you feel better?” His claws retracted suddenly with a metallic hiss, and he stepped back, releasing her roughly.

Wanda sagged against the bookshelf, her hands clutching at her chest as though trying to hold herself together. “I didn’t mean for it to happen like this,” she whispered. “I didn’t know it would fall apart.”

“You didn’t think,” Logan spat. “You didn’t care. You were so wrapped up in your own grief, you didn’t stop to think about what it’d do to the rest of us. Erik told me not to push you. Said you’d snap if I did. But guess what, Wanda? You already snapped. And you dragged us all down with you.”

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with desperation. “I just wanted her back,” she said, her voice barely audible. “I wanted all of you back.”

Logan’s face softened slightly, the anger giving way to the raw ache beneath. He sighed, dragging a hand down his face as he tried to steady himself. “I get it,” he said quietly. “More than you know. But what you did—it ain’t right, Wanda. It ain’t real. And it ain’t fair to her or any of us.”

Wanda nodded slowly, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. “I’ll fix it,” she said shakily. “I’ll make it right.”

“You better,” Logan said, his voice low and dangerous. He turned on his heel, heading for the door. But before he left, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder. “One more thing,” he added. “Don’t ever use her like that again. Not for your pain. Not for anything.”

And then he was gone, the echo of his footsteps fading into the silence.

Wanda sank to the floor, wrapping her arms around herself as she sobbed. She had thought she was giving everyone a gift, but now she saw it for what it was—a prison of her own making, one that had only brought more pain.

In the distance, Logan stalked down the hallway, his mind swirling with the memory of your voice, your touch, your final words. I love you.

He clenched his fists, his claws threatening to break through again as he let out a low growl. Wanda might fix the mess she’d made, but nothing would erase the weight of losing you again. Not this time. Not ever.

first, i just wanna say thank you to dr. mike for teaching me that when someone goes into cardiac arrest you should immediately start chest compressions, chest compressions, chest compressions! (iykyk)

also, i know this is not an accurate representation of the 'house of m' storyline, but it's somewhat close? right? anyways, i think the next one of these is gonna be the logan movie, so buckle up!

[chris-prank]

Hi, sorry if this is awkward but I’ve never sent an ask before 😭

I really like your series with Jacce, and I was wondering if you could write something (nsfw) with him receiving. Maybe some nipple play or pegging? Writhing around on the floor after writing this

Your ask wasn’t awkward at all don’t worry 💪🏻

And I can totally write about Jacce being on the receiving end (I’m keeping the nipple play for his main story, you guys will see what I mean later😏)

CW: NSFW, top reader, dom reader, sub yandere and teasing

It’s gender neutral so you can imagine that reader as a biological dick or a strap on.

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

You were convinced you never saw Jacce trembling with this much excitement before, and that was saying a lot as he was always a horny mess when it came to you. You figured that it was because the roles were different this time around. You were in fact the one topping, something that you two wanted for a long time, but both parties had been too awkward to bring it up first. It all boiled down to Jacce intimidating size. You feared rejection at the suggestion of dicking him down, thinking he wouldn’t want to be in such a vulnerable position.

But there he was, laid out before you like a five star Michelin dish, with oil covering his erected shaft and all the way down to his hole. The latter was perfectly exposed to your eyes since Jacce had his legs spread out on each side, shuddering in anticipation every two seconds. You were perfectly lined up between them, your tip brushing against his asshole occasionally, and every time it did, you could hear the faintest whines coming from him. Seeing Jacce so eager for you and your cock made you want to turn him into a complete mess, as mean as it sounded.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you wanted this sooner?” You punctuated your question by finally sliding it in.

At the sudden feeling of his muscle widening, Jacce’s back lifted off the bed in a beautiful arch. “Haah! I-I just didn’t think you… Mmf... you would want to…”

“And why is that?”

“Be-Because… Ngff… I’m tall and-and hairy—” Seeing tears forming in the corner of his eyes you cupped his cheek, cutting him short in his self-deprecation.

“Don’t worry, it's even better that you’re big and hairy.” You leaned down to kiss the tears away, while moving your hips at a leisure pace, “because it’s more satisfying to turn you into a stupid slut that way.”

Jacce moaned at the mix of insults and compliments, while wrapping his legs around your hips to keep you close, pushing your shaft deeper into him as a result. You cooed some more reassuring words into his ear right until your pelvis was flush against him. Glancing down between your two bodies, you grinned.

“You greedy little thing.”

You leaned back again, wanting to have his whole body and face in your field of view. It made the man weakly reach for you with a small frown, so you gratefully took his hand, intertwining your fingers. With your free hand, you petted up his happy trail in a repetitive motion, just like someone would do to a pet they found irresistible. It was humorous how the tip of his cock would reach your arm and graze it subtly. That’s when your fingers meet a small bump on his stomach. Your brain didn’t even have the time to register what it was that Jacce cried out an ear scratching moan, his eyes rolling back in his skull.

You were stunned for a good moment, but soon you decided to try out a theory, pulling your hips back, while keeping your palm on his lower stomach, you met with his ass once again with a swift thrust. Just like you suspected, every time you pulled out of him the small bump would disappear then reappear once you were back inside, and that brought wicked ideas to your mind. As you now grinded against him, you applied more pressure onto his stomach. The effects were immediate, Jacce’s crossed legs squeezing you tighter and his fingers clenching onto your knuckles. During your administration, you could feel subtle shudders that coursed all over his body as well, including his dick, the tip of it smearing precum onto your forearm. It’s as if you had touched the right button in his brain, making it impossible for him to say anything except pathetic “Ah Ah” and muffled whimpers.

“Feel that puppy? That’s me all the way up there.” You rubbed your palm against it as you spoke, “doesn’t it feel weirdly good in your tummy?”

The mess under you opened his mouth agape in a silent scream, strings of saliva connecting his top and bottom lips. It was indeed an unusual sensation that made it impossible for him to define where the pleasure and the discontent started or ended. Jacce’s mind was also too engulfed in pleasure at the moment to have any sense of self-control or dignity, his tongue lolling out of his mouth without a care of what he might look like. But despite his dazed state, his gaze was still drilled on you at the best of his effort and his grip on your hand stayed strong.

You hoped you could burn this image into your retina forever.

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

Sorry if it took me some time to answer! I wasn’t satisfied with the first draft and completely started over 😅

[le--fruitcake]

Alright, look, I get it. Funny haha joke, Star Wars vs. Star Trek.

But here's the thing: Star Wars isn't sci-fi. It's fantasy, set in space. There is a difference.

Sci-fi, or Science Fiction, tends to focus on a specific phenomenon, technology, or advancement, such as space travel, gene mutation, the existence and usage of true AI, whether or not androids are considered "human."

Fantasy... does not. It is more focused on the story, and tends to include things like swords and sorcery, princes and princesses, evil warlords, corrupt regimes, et cetera.

Fantasy and sci-fi are often combined in some way, which is why "fantasy/sci-fi" is a common genre or subgenre. In fact, three of my favorite series, The Darksword Trilogy, The Deathgate Cycle, and The Star of the Guardians (Darksword and Deathgate written by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman, Star of the Guardians written by Margaret Weis) are solidly fantasy/sci-fi, or sci-fi/fantasy in the case of Darksword and SotG. In fact, pure fantasy and pure sci-fi are rare, and even the fantasy series Wheel of Time (Robert Jordan, finished by Brandon Sanderson) could easily be classified as sci-fi without much effort.

As far as pure sci-fi goes, I think The Expanse (the show, never read the books) and Mag Force Seven (Margaret Weis and Don Perrin) are probably the closest I've seen, even though MF7 is set in the same universe as SotG, and contains some fantasy elements. Pokemon could also be considered sci-fi, if you think of the Poke Ball as the advancement in question, or the mons themselves as phenomena.

For fantasy, Lord of the Rings (J.R.R. Tolkien, of course) may well be the only pure fantasy books I've ever read, because even books like Septimus Heap (Angie Sage) have a lot of tech in them, even in the first book. For video games, Zelda comes to mind, specifically Ocarina of Time, for pure fantasy.

Which one of those sounds more like Star Wars to you? Does Star Wars have a focus on a specific piece of technology, advancement, or phenomenon that drives the plot/themes, or does Star Wars have a focus swords, sorcery, a princess, an evil warlord, and a corrupt regime?

Star Wars is sometimes referred to as a "space opera," which may or may not be true, I don't know because I don't really know anything about operas. But it's definitely not sci-fi.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

pretty much the only good thing about the paper of record anymore, the crossword

[krirebr]

Still Life 1

Pairing: Alpha Curtis Everett x Omega Female Reader

Word Count: ~2.8k

Summary: Curtis has been volunteering as a foster alpha for three years now. He's never seen a case this bad...

Warnings: Angst (with an eventual happy ending), past abuse (not Curtis), alpha/beta/omega dynamics, physical scarring, extreme sexism, adult themes, explicit language, All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by me this time!

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Well, this is for all of you who thought you'd seen the worst angst I could possibly do. Sorry for how much this one's gonna hurt!

Big thanks to @paperweight91 and @bigtreefest who both read so much of this and helped with structuring and world-building. And huge thanks to everyone who showed so much enthusiasm for this idea. I'm so excited to share this story with you!

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too!

As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

Nzzzz Nzzzz Nzzzz

Nzzzz Nzzzz Nzzzz

It took a moment for Curtis to pull himself out of sleep enough to realize the incessant noise was his phone vibrating loudly on his nightstand. It took another moment for him to pull himself together enough to answer it. “Hello?” he croaked.

“Morning, Curtis,” a harried voice came through from the other end. “This is Yona from the Omega Welfare Center. I'm so sorry to call so early, but we've had kind of a crazy night here and we're in need of several emergency placements.”

That had him waking up. “What happened?” he asked, seriously, sitting up in bed.

She sighed, all of her exhaustion coming through. “A traditionalist compound a couple hours away got raided by the feds and ATF. They prepared for some omegas, but… There were a lot more. Kids too. It’s been all hands on deck at all five omega centers in the state. We’re over capacity, so we’re just trying to place anyone we can immediately.”

“Shit,” Curtis mumbled to himself. Traditionalist communities popped up on the news every once in a while, populated mostly by alphas on a power trip. But this one sounded bigger than most. He looked at his clock. It was just past five. “I’ve got room for one,” he said. “And I can be there in an hour.”

“Thank you, Curtis. I’ll see you soon.”

Fifty-five minutes later, Curtis was checking in at the center, his second coffee clutched in one hand. He’d been volunteering there as a foster Alpha for about three years. Mostly short-term placements. His longest one was just over a month. He provided safe touch, grounding, and a sense of security to omegas who needed to get back on their feet. He’d help them through heats when necessary, never knotting them, but whatever else they might need. Often, it was just his scent. It made him feel good, to be able to help these omegas, offer a positive alpha experience to omegas who hadn’t had many.

He’d worked with a few different case workers during his time. Yona had been the main one for the past year. He’d never heard her sound like she had that morning.

Even just at the front desk, he could sense how much more chaotic it was here than usual. He could hear babies screaming beyond the office door, endless anxious chatter. The entire building reeked of omegas in distress. It made his nose itch and his skin crawl.

After a few minutes of waiting, Yona came and got him. “How bad is it?” he asked the omega as she hurriedly led him down the hall. 

She showed him into a small meeting room as she answered, “Really, really bad. I’ve never seen anything like it. None of them are talking, but from what we can gather, most of them have spent their entire lives in the compound. No IDs, no papers. Figuring out who they are has been nearly impossible.  And as terrible as it may have been, their whole world was ripped apart in the last twenty-four hours. No one feels like cooperating. We hope you might have better luck as an alpha.”

“You think they'll talk to me?” 

She shakes her head. “Just the Omega we're placing with you. They've all been taught never to trust outsiders, but they've also been raised to see Alphas as the ultimate authority. So, it's worth a shot.”

He nodded, slowly. “What do you need?”

“Just basic identifying information for now. So we can see if she even exists in any sort of governmental system. Then we can go from there.”

“If you don’t have any information, what makes you think I’ll be a good fit for her?”

“Honestly,” Yona said, with a helpless shrug, “you only have room for one and she doesn’t have any pups. That’s it. Listen, I know this isn’t how we normally do things and I’m so sorry I’m just throwing you into it without any preparation, but we’re really desperate here. They’re all high needs, high risk. There’s no existing support network for them, and there are more of them than we have room for. So we called all of our most experienced, most dependable alphas first thing this morning so we can focus on the ones we have room to house here. I know it isn’t fair to you but–”

“Hey,” Curtis interrupted. “It’s ok, I understand. I’ll take care of her. I promise.”

“Thank you,” she breathed out, a small fraction of the tension she’d been holding bleeding out of her shoulders. “Ok, I’m gonna go bring her in.” 

She slipped through the door and Curtis leaned against the table in the center of the room as he waited. He took a deep breath and tried to focus on putting together a to-do list. He had two sets of nesting supplies always ready, one with his scent and one without. In the next few days, he’d try to figure out if there was anything else this omega wanted for the nest. He’d gone grocery shopping the day before, so his pantry was stocked, but he’d see if there were any favorite comfort foods he could grab in his next shop. He needed to rearrange his work schedule, push back some deadlines so he’d have time to get the omega settled. He had no idea what they’d be bringing with them, so a shopping trip for toiletries and clothes would probably be necessary. Depending on the omega's state, maybe he'd be able to get the shopping done on the way back to his house. He glanced at the time on his phone. Shit. Depending on what was open.

At movement right outside the door, he stood at attention. Yona came back in with you right behind her. He took a good look at you. You wore a rumpled long-sleeved floral dress that went down to your ankles. It was faded like it’d been washed too many times. Your eyes were fixed on the tennis shoes you wore, which had probably been white at one point, but now were discolored and looked like they didn’t fit quite right. 

There was a little hand-written number ten pinned to your dress. He wanted to raise a judgemental brow at Yona, but if none of you would say your names, he supposed Yona and her team had to come up with some way to keep track of you all.

He had to stifle a gasp when his eyes landed on your neck. There was a large bite scar over your mating gland. Unlike the neat and pretty, well-healed ones he was used to seeing, yours was deep and jagged, red and white, scar tissue bubbling up where your flesh had clearly been torn. This didn’t look like a mating bite. It was the sort of bite meant to inflict pain. What sort of alpha had you had??

Your eyes stayed on the floor, your expression blank but your scent said so much – panic, sadness, terror, relief all jumbled together. He wanted to reach out and touch you, his alpha instincts were going haywire, but he kept his hands to himself. 

“This is Curtis,” Yona said to you. “He's the alpha who's going to look after you until we can get all this sorted.”

You didn’t react at all, just stood there, stiff as a board with your eyes on your shoes.

He stayed where he was, conscious of giving you space. “It’s very nice to meet you,” he said, as gently as he could. Then, with a glance to Yona, “Can you tell me your name?”

Your face scrunched up and the fear in your scent spiked but you didn’t say anything. He sighed. Shit. He really didn’t want to have to use an alpha command with you right now. That could be disastrous for any dynamic he tried to build with you. But they needed this information. He really, really hoped you wouldn’t make him force you.

“Omega, what’s your name?” he asked as firmly as he could, hopefully without scaring you. “I need to know.”

You closed your eyes tightly and he thought he saw the smallest little head shake. There was another moment of silence and he looked at Yona nervously. But then, you said it. So quietly he almost didn’t catch it. But you said it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Yona frantically scribbling it down, but his focus was completely on you.

He tried to keep his sigh of relief to himself. “That was so good. Thank you. You’re doing so well,” he said, keeping the praise soft, hoping you could scent how pleased he was with you. “When were you born?”

You gave up your birthday a little more easily, but you left off the year. 

“That’s great. Thank you. Do you know how old you are?” he asked, maintaining his gentle tone, knowing it was possible that you didn’t.

For whatever reason, it was that that finally got a reaction out of you. You looked up at him, so he could finally see your eyes, and snarled, “I’m not stupid!”

There was a beat when no one did anything. Curtis and Yona just stared at you in shock. The snarl was frozen on your face until it suddenly disappeared and your eyes got wide. Before he was able to process any of what was happening, you’d dropped down onto your knees. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’m sorry, Alpha. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Alpha, I’m sorry.” You just keep repeating that in a constant stream, your head tucked to your chest.

Repeatedly mixed into that jumble was a number. It took Curtis a few moments to realize it was your age. You were answering his question. He quietly repeated it to Yona, then dropped down to his knees as well so he could be closer to your level. “Hey, hey. You’re okay. You’re alright. You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re right. You aren’t stupid. I can already tell how smart you are. It’s okay. I’m not mad.” He wanted to reach out and touch you, wrap you in his arms, even, comfort you however he could. But he was too afraid that that’d make you panic even more. That was a boundary he couldn’t cross. Not yet. He stayed down there, whispering reassurances to you for as long as it took for you to stop apologizing, and a few extra minutes for your breathing to calm down. Once you seemed like you were back in the present moment, he moved to a crouch. “Think you can stand up for me, honey?”

You nodded, but you were back to keeping your eyes downcast. “Yes, Alpha.”

He wanted to tell you that you didn’t need to call him ‘Alpha,’ that ‘Curtis’ was just fine. But that could wait until you were a little more comfortable. Once he had you home, maybe. He could already tell that picking his battles was going to be important.

“Thank you,” he said as he stood up to his full height, and you did as well. “You answered my questions so well. You gave me exactly what I needed.” He looked to Yona to see if there was anything else.

“Do you have any questions for me or Curtis?” she asked you.

You shook your head, emphatically, hunching your shoulders. The room filled with the scent of fear again.

“Okay… that’s fine,” Yona said, and he could tell how much she hated this. “Well,” she turned to Curtis, “I’ll go get the paperwork and then you two can get home. I’ll be right back,” she said to you, then left the room. 

This was happening too fast. In normal circumstances, you would have already been at the center for a few weeks, at least, with access to mental health professionals, life skill classes, and support groups. He’d be the last step before going back to the real world. You’d be ready to spend time with an alpha. Ready to work through processing positive physical attachments. Ready to learn how to share space with someone who wasn’t a threat to you. You’d be ready to slowly take steps into the world, with him there to support you.

You had backed yourself into the corner now. He could see the way every single muscle in your body was trying not to cower. You weren’t ready. You were nowhere near ready. But with all the resources for at-risk omegas pushed to their limit by this raid, what would happen to you if he didn’t take you? As insufficient as it might be, his help could be all you’d be able to get. This wasn’t how it should be, but he’d do everything he could for you.

Yona came back in and he watched her take you in, sighing at your state. He knew she was thinking the same things he was. “Ok,” she said, handing him the packet of forms to sign. “No changes since last time. You know the drill.”

He nodded as he grabbed them and sat down at the table, getting to work signing where he was supposed to. As he did, he felt your eyes on him as the scent of your apprehension filled the room.

Yona called your name. “Let’s go outside for a minute while Curtis finishes up.”

You both left quietly. This, too, was part of normal procedure. She was asking if you were sure you were comfortable leaving with him, telling you you had the option to say no, getting your verbal and written consent, and giving you cards with all the emergency numbers on them. He was afraid this situation might stretch the legal definition of informed consent. Based on everything he’d seen so far, he couldn’t picture a scenario where you’d say no. 

Nothing about this felt good, but everyone’s hands were tied. And he knew that he’d do everything he could to keep you as safe as possible.

A few minutes after he’d finished signing the last page, you and Yona came back in. A worn knapsack hung from your fingers. It was small, confirming Curtis’s suspicions that you didn’t have much in the way of clothes. Alright, that was priority number one.

Yona had a thin folder in her hand that she immediately passed to Curtis. “The regular information, along with her schedule of appointments for the next few weeks, both doctor and therapist. And the card for the agent in charge of the investigation into the compound, in case anything pertinent comes up.” Then she turned to you with a small box. “I’ve got a couple packets of suppressants for you. Do you want them or do you want Curtis to keep track of them for you?”

Your eyes cut to him suspiciously then flitted back to the floor. “Alpha,” you muttered.

“Okay,” Yona said, handing the box to Curtis as well. Then she clapped her hands together, her face set in grim determination. “I won’t keep you any longer then. I’ll see you both next week.”

On the way out of the center, Curtis was all too aware of the way you walked exactly three steps behind him, one step to the left. That wasn’t just old-fashioned, it was archaic. He’d never seen an omega do it in real life.

At his truck, you looked at the truckbed in a way that made him worried you might try to ride back there, so he opened the passenger door for you and waited for you to get in. He resisted the part of his alpha instincts that wanted to buckle you in. And after a gentle request, you did it yourself.

As the two of you hit the road, he reached over to turn the radio on. He tried to move slowly, but you still flinched. “Want some music?” he asked quietly.

You didn’t respond, so he found an oldies station and left the volume low. His plan for the day had shifted a bit. You definitely weren’t ready to go shopping. That was fine. There was nothing that couldn’t be delivered.

About five minutes into the drive, the strong scent of your tears filled the cab. He looked over at you. You were huddled against the door, as far away from him as you could get. Your face was pressed against the window, so all he could see was the back of your head. But he could hear your sniffles and he could smell your distress.

It took everything in him to not pull over right now and reach over to comfort you. Pull you into his arms. Rub soothing circles on your back. But he knew that would do more harm than good. His touch wouldn’t be welcome. Yet. You weren’t ready.

And god, he wasn’t either. He wasn’t ready for any of this. But damn it, he was going to try.

Tag List is open!

@stargazingfangirl18 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @roxyfan14-blog @darkserenity24 @midnightramyeoncravings @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @ronearoundblindly @brandycranby @steviebbboi @missaprilt23 @thiquefunlover63 @hisredheadedgoddess28 @stellar-solar-flare @crazyunsexycool @littlelearningbrat

[rootedinrevisions]

Too Late: Part 3 (Final Part)

SUMMARY: You find yourself at a crossroads, reflecting on your fears and the love that once defined your relationship with Tyler. After a heartfelt conversation with your mother, you reach out to Tyler, who agrees to meet, unsure of what to expect. What begins as a casual meal at the local diner evolves into a candid, emotional discussion where both of you confront your past mistakes, vulnerabilities, and hopes for the future. As walls come down and trust begins to rebuild, an unspoken connection blossoms once more.

OTHER PARTS: PART 1 I PART 2

A/N: Thank you all so much for the support this story/series has received! This is the third and final part of the story that I have planned. I hope you guys enjoy it! xx

WARNINGS: None really. Mentions of past trust issues (what happened in the 1st part)

WORD COUNT: 7.2k

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

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The last of the plates clinked as Tyler set it into the drying rack. His hands moved automatically, a practiced rhythm that mirrored yours as you worked side by side in the kitchen. The early morning sunlight streamed through the window above the sink, casting soft golden streaks across the countertop. The silence between you was no longer heavy or awkward. Instead, it felt easy, almost peaceful—an unspoken truce forged over breakfast and stolen moments.

You rinsed the final dish, turning it over in your hands to ensure it was spotless before passing it to Tyler. He dried it with deliberate care, his fingers brushing the edges of the plate before placing it neatly in the cupboard. Neither of you spoke, but the weight of unspoken words lingered between you, quiet but persistent.

When the dishes were done, Tyler folded the towel and hung it neatly on the oven handle. “I can drive you over to your mom’s if you want,” he offered, his voice low but steady. “So you can grab your car.”

You nodded, wiping your damp hands on the front of your jeans. “Yeah… thanks.”

The drive to your house passed in near silence, the faint hum of the truck’s engine the only sound between you. Tyler kept his eyes on the road, one hand resting casually on the wheel, the other draped across the armrest. You found yourself stealing glances at him, your gaze lingering on the set of his jaw and the way the morning light danced across his profile.

It wasn’t until Tyler pulled into the driveway of your mom’s house and shifted the truck into park that you realized how tightly you’d been gripping your seatbelt. The familiar sight of the front porch with its white railing and your mom’s potted plants brought a strange mix of comfort and unease. You stared at the door, your stomach twisting with a sudden, inexplicable knot of anxiety.

Your thoughts drifted to your mom. The doctors had said they’d call if there was any change, and there hadn’t been. No news is good news, you reminded yourself, but the knot in your stomach refused to loosen. Something about stepping into that house, uncertain whether your mom was going to make it, left you frozen with hesitation.

“You okay?” Tyler’s voice was quiet, but it carried enough concern to pull you out of your thoughts.

You blinked and glanced over at him. His steady gaze was on you, his brows slightly furrowed as he tried to read your expression.

You took a deep breath, nodding once. “Yeah,” you said, but the tightness in your voice betrayed you.

Tyler didn’t look convinced.

Your fingers fidgeted with the edge of your sleeve as you stared back at the house. After a moment, you turned to him again, your voice barely above a whisper. “Would you... come inside with me? I don’t really want to be alone in there right now.”

The words hung in the air, and you braced yourself for some kind of resistance. But Tyler just nodded, his expression softening. “Of course.”

He turned the truck off and climbed out, waiting for you to join him before the two of you walked to the front door together. You unlocked it and stepped inside, the familiar creak of the floorboards under your feet stirring a wave of memories. Tyler lingered just inside the doorway, his hands shoved into his jean pockets as his eyes scanned the room.

“I’ll be right here,” he said gently.

You gave him a small, grateful smile. “Thanks.”

Climbing the stairs to your old bedroom felt surreal, like stepping back into a time capsule. The walls were still painted the same pale yellow you’d chosen in high school, and the mismatched furniture you’d left behind was exactly where it had always been. 

You grabbed a pair of jeans and a T-shirt from the dresser, quickly changing out of the borrowed clothes. After running a brush through your hair, you tied it back into a ponytail, staring at your reflection in the mirror. You looked tired—more tired than you wanted to admit—but there was no time to dwell on that now.

When you made your way back downstairs, Tyler was still standing by the door, just as he’d said. His hands were tucked into his pockets, his shoulders relaxed, but his eyes were fixed on the floor as if lost in thought.

“Ready?” he asked as you approached, his voice quiet but steady.

You nodded, offering a faint smile. “Yeah.”

He held the door open for you as you stepped outside, the morning air crisp against your skin. Something about his presence steadied the unease still twisting in your chest. For now, it was enough.

The two of you stepped outside, and you locked the house behind you. Tyler was already back at his truck, standing by the driver’s side door. His hand rested on the handle, but instead of climbing in, he turned to look at you.

There was something hesitant in his expression, like he was trying to muster up the right words but couldn’t quite find them. His lips parted slightly, but he didn’t speak.

You took a deep breath, hugging your arms across your chest as the morning air nipped at your skin. You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but having Tyler at the hospital yesterday had been comforting. He’d been a steady presence in a moment when everything felt like it was spiraling. And the thought of walking back into that hospital room alone right now made your chest tighten.

Your dad’s last update replayed in your mind. The earliest he could get there would be later tonight. He’d been out of town on business when the accident happened and was scrambling to book last-minute flights and make the long journey back.

You hesitated, the rational part of your brain warning you this was a bad idea. But you couldn’t help it. You glanced over at Tyler. 

“Would you…” You paused, swallowing hard. “Would you come sit with me at the hospital? Just until my dad gets there?”

You braced yourself for some kind of resistance, but Tyler didn’t even hesitate. He nodded without a second thought. “Of course.”

Relief flooded through you, and though you tried to hide it, you were pretty sure he saw it in your face. You climbed into the truck, and Tyler started the engine, pulling out of the driveway. The hum of the tires on the pavement filled the quiet between you, but this silence felt different—less heavy, more comfortable.

When you reached the hospital, Tyler parked and cut the engine. You both made your way through the sliding glass doors and up the elevator to your mom’s room. As you reached the floor, Tyler slowed his steps, glancing at the small waiting area near the elevators.

“Do you want me to wait out here?” he asked, his voice quiet and careful, as if he didn’t want to overstep.

You hesitated, looking back toward the hallway that led to your mom’s room. For a moment, the idea of walking in alone made your stomach churn.

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “You can come in.”

Tyler nodded, falling into step beside you as you walked down the hall. His hand brushed yours briefly—not intentional, just the way the two of you moved in tandem—and the fleeting contact sent a strange mix of comfort and nerves through you.

When you reached your mom’s room, you hesitated again, your hand hovering over the door handle. Tyler didn’t say anything, but his presence at your side was enough to make you feel steady.

You and Tyler stepped into the room, the soft hum of machines filling the air. Your mom’s eyes fluttered open at the sound of the door, and when she saw you, a tired but genuine smile spread across her face.

“Hi, sweetheart,” she said, her voice soft but steady.

You moved to her bedside, leaning down to give her a gentle hug. As you embraced her, you felt her gaze shift over your shoulder.

“Tyler,” she said warmly, catching sight of him lingering near the door. “Come in, honey. Don’t just stand there.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tyler replied, nodding as he stepped further into the room. 

He seemed hesitant, unsure of how much space to take up. After a moment, he settled into a chair in the corner, his broad frame somehow making the small hospital chair look even smaller.

You pulled a chair closer to your mom’s bed, taking her hand in yours. Her skin was cool and fragile beneath your fingers, but her grip was surprisingly strong.

For a while, the room was filled with quiet conversation between you and your mom. You told her about the house, reassured her that everything was in order, and avoided bringing up anything that might worry her further. Tyler stayed silent, his presence steady but unobtrusive, watching the two of you with a quiet attentiveness.

When the nurses came in to administer pain medicine, your mom began to fade into drowsiness. You smoothed her blanket over her, watching as her breathing evened out and her eyes fluttered shut. The room grew quiet again, a stillness settling over everything.

You glanced over at Tyler. He’d leaned back in his chair, his phone in hand, occasionally responding to a text or scrolling through something. But for the most part, he just sat there, a calming presence you hadn’t realized you’d needed.

Hours passed in that comfortable silence. At some point, you noticed Tyler’s head start to dip forward, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He crossed his arms over his chest, his head tilting slightly as he drifted off to sleep.

It was around then that your mom stirred. You turned your attention back to her as she opened her eyes and smiled at you.

“How are you holding up, sweetheart?” she asked softly, her voice still a little groggy.

You hesitated before nodding. “I’m okay,” you said, though the words didn’t feel entirely convincing.

Your mom glanced past you, her smile growing a little wider when she saw Tyler sleeping in the corner. “Are you two talking again?” she asked, her tone light but curious.

You sighed, shaking your head. “Not really. He’s just… trying to help right now.”

Your mom let out a quiet laugh, her eyes twinkling with a mix of amusement and knowing. “Which one of you is being stubborn?”

You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She raised an eyebrow, the kind of expression only a mother could manage, equal parts teasing and serious. “I mean, Tyler’s here, isn’t he? Sitting in a hospital room with you for hours, even though you two aren’t together anymore.” She tilted her head slightly, studying your face. “That boy cares about you. He always has.”

You shook your head, the frustration bubbling to the surface. “Mom, you’re forgetting why we broke up in the first place. He was never around. He missed birthdays, holidays… even our anniversary once. How do you think that made me feel?”

Your mom sighed, her expression softening. “I know it hurt, sweetheart. I know it did. But have you ever thought about why he worked so much? Why he was gone so often?”

You frowned, crossing your arms. “Because his job was more important than I was.”

“No,” she said firmly, her tone gentle but unwavering. “Because he wanted to give you the world. Tyler would do anything to make you happy, and the way he thought he could do that was by working hard and making sure you had everything you could ever want.”

You started to argue, but she held up a hand.

“He wasn’t gone because he didn’t care,” she continued. “He was gone because he cared too much. That YouTube channel, the storm chasing—it’s how he made his money. It’s how he provided for the two of you. Do you know how many times he called me, asking what he could do to make things better for you? How many times he worried he wasn’t enough for you?”

Her words hit like a punch to the chest. You opened your mouth to respond but found yourself at a loss.

“I’m not saying he was perfect,” she said softly. “And I’m not saying it didn’t hurt you when he missed things. But he wasn’t doing it to hurt you. He was doing it because he thought it was the best way to take care of you. And maybe he didn’t always get it right, but his heart was in the right place.”

You looked down at your hands, her words circling in your mind.

“Don’t let fear or pride keep you from giving him another chance, sweetheart,” she said gently. “People make mistakes. They grow. And from what I’ve seen, that boy would do anything to make things right with you.”

You glanced over at Tyler, still asleep in the chair, his head tilted at an awkward angle. Despite everything, his presence here—just being here—had been more comforting than you’d expected.

Your mom gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Sometimes love means letting go of the hurt and giving someone the chance to show you they’ve changed.”

* * * * *

Over the next few days, Tyler proved to be a steady presence in ways you hadn’t expected. It started with small gestures—things that felt almost too thoughtful to be coincidental.

The first time, it was coffee. You’d barely slept the night before, tossing and turning as you worried about your mom, your dad still trying to make it home, and the ever-present weight of Tyler being sort of back in your life. You’d shown up at the hospital bleary-eyed and running on fumes, only to find Tyler already there, leaning casually against the wall outside your mom’s room.

“Morning,” he’d said, holding out a cup of your favorite coffee. “Figured you could use this.”

You’d blinked at him, caught off guard. “How’d you—”

“You’ve been ordering the same thing since I met you,” he said with a small smile.

The warmth that spread through you at his thoughtfulness was immediate, but you tamped it down, nodding as you took the cup from his hand. “Thanks,” you mumbled, avoiding his eyes.

But that wasn’t the only time.

The next day, you’d mentioned offhandedly that you needed to grab a few groceries before heading back to the hospital. By the time you made it to the store after your visit, Tyler was already there, leaning against his truck in the parking lot with a bag in hand.

“Saved you a trip,” he’d said simply, handing you the groceries you needed.

“Tyler,” you started, a mixture of gratitude and frustration bubbling to the surface. “You didn’t have to—”

“I know,” he interrupted, his tone calm and even. “But I wanted to.”

And then there were the texts.

How’s your mom doing today?Did you get some rest last night?Let me know if you need anything.

They came consistently, never pushy but always there, like a quiet reminder that you didn’t have to go through this alone.

At first, you told yourself it didn’t mean anything—that he was just being polite, trying to make up for the past. But the more it happened, the harder it became to ignore.

One evening, after another long day at the hospital, you found yourself sitting on the edge of your bed, Tyler’s latest text lighting up your phone.

Did you eat today?

You stared at the screen, your chest tightening. He wasn’t asking out of obligation. He wasn’t trying to win points. He was just… there. Consistent.

It felt foreign—this version of Tyler who wasn’t promising the moon and stars but showing up in small, meaningful ways instead.

You typed out a quick reply, trying to keep it casual. Yeah, grabbed something at the cafeteria. Thanks for checking in.

His response came almost immediately. Good. You need anything?

You hesitated, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. Part of you wanted to tell him no, to keep him at arm’s length where it felt safe. But another part of you—the part that had started noticing the way he remembered your coffee order, the way he didn’t hesitate to pick up groceries, the way his presence made the weight on your shoulders feel a little lighter—wanted to say yes.

Instead, you settled on something in between. I’m good. Thanks, though.

You set your phone down, your emotions swirling in a way that felt impossible to untangle. You could see the effort he was making, the consistency you once doubted in him. And yet, the fear of repeating past mistakes loomed large, a wall you weren’t sure you were ready to let down.

As you lay back on your bed, staring at the ceiling, you couldn’t help but wonder: Could you let yourself trust him again? Or was holding back the only way to keep from getting hurt?

The answer felt as distant and elusive as ever, but one thing was clear—Tyler wasn’t going anywhere. And that scared you as much as it comforted you.

* * * * *

You weren’t sure what had compelled you to say yes when Tyler offered to have you over for a few hours. Maybe it was his reasoning—that you needed a break after days at the hospital. Maybe it was the fact that your dad was finally back, sitting with your mom as she started to regain her strength. Or maybe, deep down, you knew you wanted to be here, in his space, no matter how much it scared you.

Tyler’s house was just as you remembered—cozy, and filled with small touches that made it unmistakably his. The scent of cedarwood lingered faintly in the air, and the shelves were dotted with framed photos and little souvenirs from his storm-chasing adventures.

“Make yourself at home,” he’d said, heading into the kitchen to grab drinks. “I’ll be right back.”

You wandered aimlessly, trying to ignore the familiar warmth that settled over you. It felt too easy to picture yourself here again, and that thought sent a pang of unease through you.

As you drifted toward the small desk in the corner of the living room, something caught your eye. The drawer was slightly ajar, and within it, a glint of gold and a small velvet box peeked out. Your curiosity got the better of you, and before you knew it, you were reaching for it.

When you opened the box, your breath caught.

It was the ring. The family ring. The delicate gold band with the intricate etching you’d admired since you were a little girl. The one your mom always said she’d pass down when the time was right.

Your fingers trembled as you held it, a dozen emotions colliding in your chest—shock, confusion, hurt. You didn’t hear Tyler’s footsteps until he was already in the doorway.

He froze when he saw you, his expression unreadable.

“What…” Your voice came out in a whisper, shaking as much as your hands. “How do you have this?”

Tyler ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. “I—” He stopped, as if weighing his words. “I didn’t think you’d find that.”

“That’s not an answer.” You looked up at him, your voice sharper now. “How do you have this? This is my family’s ring. My grandmother’s ring.”

Tyler’s jaw tightened. For a moment, you thought he might deflect or brush it off, but then he sighed, leaning against the doorframe.

“I had it because… I was going to ask you,” he admitted quietly. “Before we broke up.”

The room felt like it tilted beneath you. “You… what?”

“I’d talked to your parents. Asked for their blessing,” he continued, his voice steady but softer now. “Your mom gave me the ring. She said it was tradition, that it would mean something to you. And I thought—” He swallowed hard. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I loved you enough to want to make you mine forever.”

You stared at him, the weight of his words settling heavily in your chest. “Tyler… why didn’t you tell me?”

His brows furrowed, his frustration evident. “How was I supposed to bring that up? ‘Hey, by the way, I was planning to propose before you ripped my heart out’? It wasn’t exactly the kind of conversation we were having when you left.”

Your chest tightened at the bitterness in his tone. “I didn’t just leave for no reason, Tyler. You were never there. You were always off chasing storms or working on the channel. I felt like I was just… waiting for you to choose me over everything else.”

Tyler’s expression hardened, but his voice didn’t rise. “I wasn’t gone because I didn’t care. I was gone because I was trying to build something for us. To give you the life you deserved. Do you think I wanted to spend all that time away from you?”

“You could’ve told me that!” you shot back, your voice cracking. “Instead, you just kept pushing forward like I was supposed to read your mind. How was I supposed to know you were doing it for me when you never said anything?”

“I thought you knew!” he countered, his voice finally rising. “I thought you understood. I thought what we had was strong enough to get through it. But instead, you walked away without even giving me a chance to explain.”

The room felt unbearably small, the air thick with unspoken pain. Tyler took a step closer, his eyes locking with yours.

“I didn’t know how to fight for someone who had already made it clear she didn’t want me,” he said quietly, the vulnerability in his voice cutting through the tension.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. The emotions swirling inside you—anger, hurt, regret—left you feeling raw and exposed.

Tyler reached for the ring, picking it up from where it rested on the desk. He held it out to you, his hand steady despite the tension in his jaw.

“Take it,” he said, his voice tight with emotion. “It’s yours anyway. Keep it, or take it back to your mom’s—I shouldn’t have it anymore.”

You stared at the ring, your heart pounding in your chest. The weight of his words, the pain in his eyes, the ring that symbolized everything you’d lost and didn’t know if you could get back—it was all too much.

“I can’t do-,” you whispered, stepping back. “I… I need time to think.”

Tyler’s hand lowered, and for a moment, he looked like he might argue. But then he nodded, slipping the ring back into the box and tucking it away in the drawer.

The argument had left you both emotionally drained, the air in the room thick with all the things unsaid. Tyler had retreated, stepping out of the room and leaving you alone with the silence. You could hear his footsteps as he made his way out the front door and onto the porch. After that, there was only the quiet hum of the house around you. It felt like a heavy kind of stillness—almost suffocating in its weight.

You stood there for a moment, staring at the drawer where the ring had been returned, now hidden away again. Your fingers reached out, pulling open the drawer and picking up the box. You didn’t open the box or look at the ring. You just quietly put the box into your purse. You told yourself you’d give it back to your mom.

Tyler’s house had always held a special place in your heart. The old farmhouse, weathered but sturdy, had been his dream long before you moved in. He’d poured himself into this place, building it up, making it his own. His grandparents’ house, the land that had been in his family for generations—he’d often told you how much it meant to him. The memories of the two of you walking through the fields, sitting on the porch at dusk, talking about the future… it was all a part of him. And yet, it didn’t feel like home in the way it used to. Not anymore.

You’d moved here together once, a promise of a new chapter, a future side by side. And in many ways, it had been your home. A place where you’d shared laughter, arguments, and everything in between. But now, as you stood in the familiar space, everything felt different.

You moved through the house slowly, almost instinctively, as if searching for something—some sign that the past could be healed, that the love you once had could still be found in the cracks of this place. But every room seemed to hold its own kind of sadness, a reminder of what had been lost.

When you reached the kitchen, you ran your hand over the counter, feeling the familiar grooves of the old wood. This was where you used to stand while Tyler cooked dinner, teasing him about his “experimental” dishes, laughing at how he always burned something. He’d smile and tell you that’s why he had you, to make sure you guys didn’t starve. Then he’d pull you into a kiss, the kind of kiss that made you forget about everything else. The kind of kiss that made you feel like nothing could ever tear you apart.

But then, as you stood by the window, your gaze naturally fell outside. The view from here was familiar, the long stretch of land with the barn at the far edge of the property. 

And that’s when you saw him. Tyler.

He was standing outside by the old barn, the sleeves of his flannel shirt rolled up, the axe gripped firmly in his hands. You watched, your heart dropping a little in your chest. He was splitting wood—heavy, deliberate swings with a rhythm that seemed almost mechanical. You had seen him do this before. It was his way of working out whatever was on his mind, his way of channeling anger or frustration. It was a pattern you knew all too well, one that had been there even before you left.

When he split wood like this, you knew better than to interrupt. It was his space, his time, his way of dealing with things. He didn’t want anyone there. He didn’t want to talk. It was his silent, solitary method of pushing everything down, of pretending that the world around him didn’t hurt.

You felt a sharp pang in your chest as you watched him swing the axe, each strike carrying the weight of things unsaid. Your eyes burned slightly, the tears you hadn’t realized were threatening to fall welling up. 

The sight of him like this—the man you still cared about, the man who had been so much a part of your life—hurt in a way you hadn’t prepared for. You’d hoped that seeing him here, in this space, would make things clearer. But instead, it made you question everything.

Was this your fault? Was he out there, splitting wood because of you? Because of the things you’d said, the things you’d walked away from?

You could almost feel the tension in his every movement, the frustration he was releasing with each swing. He wasn’t angry at the wood. He was angry at everything that had happened between you two—at the distance that had grown, at the things left unsaid. He was angry at himself for not being able to fix it, and maybe, just maybe, angry at you for walking away.

You stood there for a long time, your fingers gripping the edge of the counter, your breath shallow. You wanted to go outside, wanted to talk to him, to ask him to stop. But you knew better. You’d learned that lesson a long time ago. When Tyler was like this, the best thing you could do was give him space. He would come to you when he was ready. But that didn’t make it any easier to watch.

You blinked, trying to clear your eyes, but the image of him out there—alone, working through his pain in silence—stayed with you, heavy and haunting.

You sighed, picking up your bag and making your way to the door. As you stepped out into the cool afternoon air, the weight of the ring seemed to grow heavier in your bag. Walking down the front steps, you couldn’t shake the feeling that everything you had with Tyler was still there, just waiting for you to reach out and claim it. But you were scared. Scared of reopening old wounds, scared of trusting again, scared of letting yourself believe that it could work out this time.

As you drove away from the house, the ring resting silently in your bag, you couldn’t help but think about what Tyler had said. For the first time, you started to wonder if you’d been too afraid to face your feelings for him. 

* * * * *

The house was quiet when you finally got back to your parents’ place, the weight of the past few days pressing down on you. The hours spent at the hospital, the conversations with your mom, the raw argument with Tyler—it all swirled in your mind, and you couldn’t seem to escape the echoes of the past.

You were sitting in the living room now, curled up in the old armchair. The dim light from the lamp beside you cast long shadows on the walls, and the soft hum of the refrigerator was the only sound in the house. Your mind was running through everything that had happened. Your mom’s voice rang in your head, reminding you that you were likely pushing Tyler away because you were afraid of getting hurt again. But even as you replayed her words, it was hard to shake the feeling of uncertainty.

It wasn’t love you were lacking. That much was clear to you. The memories of your time together—both the good and the bad—flooded your thoughts, and the love you once shared was still there, even if it was buried under layers of hurt. You could still feel the way your heart had raced when Tyler kissed you, the way he had held you close on the coldest nights. You had loved him with everything you had, and a part of you still did. But now? Now, it felt like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, too scared to take the leap, too unsure of where it might lead.

Your thoughts drifted to the last few days—Tyler’s quiet presence when you needed him, the way he had shown up, consistently and without hesitation. He brought you coffee when you needed it most, offered to run errands, texted you just to check in. Every little thing he did was a reminder of the person he had become, the one who wanted to be there for you, no matter how hard it might have been for him.

You couldn’t ignore the changes. He wasn’t the same as he had been before. He’d made mistakes, but he’d also shown you that he was willing to work on himself. The way he had apologized, the way he had acknowledged his faults—it was all part of the healing process.

And yet, even now, as you sat there in the silence, your heart was heavy. You were scared to trust again. Scared to believe that this time, things would be different. The fear of repeating past mistakes loomed over you, a constant companion in your thoughts. How could you know for sure that Tyler wouldn’t hurt you again? 

You thought back to the day you broke up—how Tyler had tried so hard to be what you needed but had failed, leaving you to feel abandoned. You remembered the words he said, the frustration in his voice as he admitted he didn’t know how to fix things. But now, you knew he was trying. He wasn’t perfect, but he was showing you he cared in a way that mattered.

Maybe it wasn’t about being perfect. Maybe it was about being willing to try. And for the first time in a long while, you started to wonder if you were ready to take the risk.

As you sat there, you felt the weight of the ring in your pocket, still a physical reminder of what could have been. The family ring. The one Tyler had almost given you. He’d wanted to give you everything, to make you his forever. It stung, thinking about how close he had been to doing that, and how you had walked away before you could even see what might have been.

But maybe now was the time to face what had been left unsaid. Maybe now was the time to acknowledge that you weren’t as afraid of him as you were of what it would mean to trust him again. Maybe it was time to stop holding onto the past and to start letting yourself heal, to start letting him back in.

Your thoughts lingered there for a moment, wondering where things might go if you took that next step, if you allowed yourself to be vulnerable enough to take the chance on him again.

* * * * *

You took a deep breath, staring at the screen of your phone, your finger hovering over the “Send” button. You’d thought about this moment a hundred times, but now that it was here, the weight of it was almost too much.

Tyler. You hadn’t really spoken since that painful argument over the ring. But something in you had shifted. The clarity that came after your reflection—the understanding that your hesitation wasn’t about love, but about trust—had led you to this point. You weren’t ready to give up on him, not yet. You needed to talk, to lay everything out, and to figure out if there was a way forward.

With one last deep breath, you typed out a quick message: Can we talk?

You stared at it for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest, and then hit send.

The response came a few minutes later, fast and blunt: Sure. What about?

You hesitated, your mind racing. Can you meet me?

There was a long pause before his reply. You could almost feel his hesitation through the screen: Why can’t we talk now?

You chewed on your bottom lip, heart racing again. I just think we need to talk in person.

Okay. Where?

You agreed on a quiet spot at a local diner, one you used to go to together when things were easier. The diner was just as you remembered it—faded red booths, a flickering neon sign in the window, and the faint smell of coffee and fried food hanging in the air. It had been weeks since you’d sat here with Tyler, sharing laughs over milkshakes and fries. Now, as you pushed open the door, the memories hit you like a wave, bittersweet and unrelenting.

Tyler was already there, seated in the far corner by the window. His back was to you, his shoulders hunched slightly as he stared out at the parking lot. He didn’t look tense—just tired, like someone who had long since stopped hoping for something he knew wasn’t coming.

When he turned at the sound of your footsteps, his expression softened, and he offered a small, polite smile. 

“Hey,” he said, standing as you approached the booth.

“Hey,” you replied, sliding into the seat across from him.

“Thanks for meeting me,” you added, unsure of how to start.

Tyler waved a hand dismissively. “Of course. Everything okay? Is this about your mom or... something else?”

You hesitated, caught off guard by his assumption. He thought this was about your mom—or maybe something unrelated entirely. You realized he hadn’t even considered that this might be about him. That hit you harder than you expected.

“No, she’s fine,” you said quickly. “It’s not about her.”

A waitress appeared with two menus, setting them down before taking your drink orders. Once she walked away, Tyler leaned back in his seat, his arms crossed loosely. “So, what’s on your mind?”

You traced the edge of the menu with your finger, searching for the right words. “I’ve just... been thinking a lot lately,” you started, your voice steady but quiet. “About everything. About us.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly, but he didn’t speak right away. When he did, his tone was careful, like he didn’t want to assume too much. “Us?”

You nodded, meeting his gaze. “Yeah. Us.”

For the first time, you saw a flicker of something in his expression—hope, maybe, though he tried to mask it. “Okay,” he said slowly, leaning forward now, his elbows resting on the table. “I’m listening.”

You took a deep breath, your hands fidgeting in your lap. “I’ve been thinking about why I’ve been so hesitant... why I haven’t been able to just move on or figure out what I want. And I realized it’s not because I don’t care about you. It’s not because I don’t... love you.”

Tyler’s breath hitched, and for a moment, he just stared at you, like he wasn’t sure he’d heard you right. 

“It’s because I’m scared,” you continued, pushing through the lump in your throat. “I’m scared of trusting you again. Of getting hurt again. And I know that’s not fair to you, because you’ve done so much to show me you’ve changed. But it’s the truth.”

Tyler leaned back slightly, his hands dropping to the table. His voice, when he spoke, was soft but firm. “I can’t blame you for being scared,” he said. “I don’t. And if I could go back and change the way I handled things back then, I would in a heartbeat. But I can’t. All I can do is try to show you now that I’m not that guy anymore.”

You nodded, your heart pounding. “I see that,” you admitted. “And I want to believe it. I do. But this is going to take time, Tyler. If we do this—if we try again—I need to know we’re on the same page.”

“Of course,” he said quickly, his voice full of sincerity. “Whatever you need. Time, space, anything.”

The words hit you with a mix of relief and fear, but you pushed past it, meeting his gaze. “I need honesty. Communication. Consistency. If I’m going to trust you again, I need to know you’re not going to disappear or pull away.”

Tyler reached across the table, his hand stopping just short of yours, as if waiting for permission. When you didn’t pull away, he covered your hand with his, his touch warm and steady. 

“You have my word,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere. Not this time.”

The vulnerability in his voice broke something open inside you, and for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe—just maybe—this could work.

“I’m willing to try,” you said softly, your voice trembling just enough to give you away. “But we have to start over. From scratch. No rushing, no expectations. We figure this out one step at a time.”

Tyler’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile, the kind that reached his eyes. “One step at a time,” he echoed.

The conversation between you and Tyler drifted into lighter topics as the waitress returned to take your order. You both opted for the diner’s signature cheeseburgers, a choice that made Tyler chuckle.

“Some things never change,” he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You always did love their fries.”

“And you always managed to steal half of them,” you shot back, a teasing smile tugging at your lips.

“Guilty as charged,” he admitted, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

For a while, it felt easy—almost normal. The tension that had weighed so heavily at the start of the conversation seemed to fade as you reminisced about old times. Tyler told you about the farm and the projects he’d been working on, and you found yourself laughing at his stories about the chickens escaping their pen and wreaking havoc in the garden.

When the food arrived, Tyler immediately reached across the table and snagged one of your fries, grinning mischievously as he popped it into his mouth.

“Really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Consider it interest,” he said with a wink.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling.

As the meal wound down, the check arrived, and Tyler reached for it without hesitation.

“Oh, no you don’t,” you said, grabbing for the small black folder.

“I got it,” Tyler said firmly, holding it just out of your reach.

“Tyler, I can pay for mine,” you insisted, leaning across the table in a futile attempt to snatch it.

He shook his head, his grin widening. “You can get the next one.”

“Next one?” you echoed, your cheeks flushing slightly.

He froze for a split second, realizing what he’d said. But instead of backtracking, he leaned forward, his expression softening. “Yeah. Next one.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you didn’t argue. Tyler slid his card into the folder and handed it to the waitress, who returned moments later with a receipt for him to sign.

As you stepped outside into the cool evening air, the world felt quieter. The neon sign buzzed faintly above you, casting a soft glow on the sidewalk.

Tyler walked beside you, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. You fell into step together, the sound of your footsteps the only noise between you.

When you reached your car, you paused, turning to face him. He stopped too, standing so close that you could feel the warmth radiating from him despite the chill in the air.

“Thanks for dinner,” you said softly.

“Anytime,” he replied, his voice low and steady.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Then, Tyler reached out, his fingers brushing against yours before curling gently around your hand.

The simple gesture sent a warmth through you that you hadn’t felt in years. You squeezed his hand, your heart swelling at the unspoken promise in his touch.

As you started to pull away, Tyler hesitated. His other hand lifted, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. His touch lingered for just a moment longer than necessary, and when his eyes met yours, they were filled with something quiet and certain.

“Can I—” he started, his voice catching, but you didn’t let him finish.

Instead, you leaned in, closing the distance between you, and pressed your lips to his.

The kiss was soft, tentative at first, as if you were both testing the waters. But as Tyler tilted his head, his free hand moving gently to your waist, it deepened just enough to make your heart race.

When you finally pulled back, your faces were still close, your breath mingling in the cool night air. Tyler’s eyes searched yours, his expression a mixture of wonder and relief.

“Drive safe,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, though it carried the weight of so much more.

“You too,” you replied, your voice steady even as your heart threatened to beat out of your chest.

As you climbed into your car and drove away, you couldn’t stop glancing in the rearview mirror. Tyler stood there on the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, watching until your taillights disappeared into the night.

For the first time in a long time, the future didn’t feel quite so uncertain.

[shirozora-draws]

This entire chapter was so hard to write AND draw... until you grasp that one thought and pull hard on it. Envisioning Nevarro like you're a gunslinger, an outlaw, wandering into a town clinging to the frontier really helped me crawl past artist's block.

My second thought after "guess I know what scene to conceptualize" was "Kendrick Lamar in the 'Humble' mv" and when when I dove into Shotdeck's archives for "beam of light", the very first image was from Kendrick Lamar's Humble mv. Are you shitting me.

I think I could've done more to emphasize how alone Din is in this chapter, but I may have played it too safe with the setting and that put limits on my ideas of what feelings I wanted to capture. Still think I nailed it, though.

I'm so excited for the next chapter, though. I sat on how I want to write and draw it for almost as long as I sat on how I wanted to write and draw chapter 7, so hopefully I'll have a much better time with that one.

[feral-pixie-dream-possum]

This. Art is largely about context, and this is a context people didn't have when they originally loved Gaiman's work. As someone in the reblogs said, it is hard to reconcile when you find out that the stories that were teaching you to overcome horrors were written by someone acting more like the abusers in the story. But that doesn't make your original reading of the stories bad or wrong. Art is about interpretation, and that's something you do from your own point of view.

The question is what to do now, and there's not one inherently right answer. Not wanting to support any of Gaiman's work is understandable. But it's not a moral failing to still want to read his stuff. I'd say it's not a moral failing to enjoy his stuff. After all, it was picked up by publishers, enjoyed by millions of people. There have been editors curating the work and pointing out to Gaiman when putting something in the story is a bad idea, helping him edit the work to be easier to sell.

It's just that knowing that the writer has abused people should change how you interpret the work. That still doesn't mean you have to think it's bad writing.

For me, after the initial shock, it kind of clicked. Even when originally reading the Sandman series I found some of the descriptions of violence lengthy and oddly glorifying. Many of them take the point of view of the abusers. And who could forget about the story line where a writer has to sexually assault a muse to find inspiration? How the author is ultimately punished for this by writing his fingers to the bone?

But those were the parts of the stories that already made me uncomfortable. It's easy to say now that "ohhh I should have known that there was something wrong with this guy". It's harder to decide if I even want to reread my collection. And if I do, how do I interpret the parts that I used to like.

[beckyninja]

Cleanse

Pairing: Demetrian Titus x FemReader

Warnings: Sexual content, MDNI

Description: In the baths, you contemplate both your present and future with Titus. Little do you know, unfriendly eyes are watching.

I'll say this once, if you're a fan of Leandros, this story arc may not be for you. 😈

(To read the rest of the fics in this series, check out my Masterlist.)

“You’re sure this is allowed?” 

You saw no one else in the vaulted chamber, yet still felt the need to whisper. Part of you felt like a misbehaving child. The rest of you shivered with barely disguised glee.

“Of course it is!” Vesta rolled her eyes. “I told you, my unc- I mean, Lord Callistus specifically gave me permission.”

“But he didn’t give me permission.”

“Worry wart.” Your friend giggled. “Just look at this place!”

You did. High ceilings adorned with blue and gold mosaics soared above you. Columns wider than the reach of your arms lined the walls. Every polished marble surface gleamed in the flickering candlelight.

But the thing that truly made you catch your breath was the great pool of steaming water stretching from one end of the room to the other. 

On your homeworld, you’d played in mountain streams. Since becoming a serf, you’d learned of lakes and oceans. But this was by far the most still water you’d ever seen in one place. The steam curling from its rippling surface moistened your skin and filled your lungs.

“What if one of the Marines comes in?”

Vesta was already laying out her bucket of supplies: soap, brushes, and washing cloths. She shook her head.

“Those that aren’t sleeping are preparing for our arrival at Demerium. Unc- Lord Callistus told me so. You, yourself, told me your Lord Titus was in strategy meetings with his squad.” She shot you a wry look. “I’m only glad you finally seem to have a free moment. I’ve barely seen you since we left Avarax!” 

You felt heat rush to your face and turned away, pretending to examine the carvings on a nearby pillar.

“De-Demetrian!”

“Yes. Cry my name.”

“Deme- ah!”

“Good girl. You can take more, can you not?”

“I-I….”

“Please, Little Healer. I need you.” 

Demetrian had been insatiable the last few days, pulling (or throwing) you into bed at every opportunity. Only a frustrated vox call from his squadmates finally dragged him from your side. You remembered the mournful look in his eyes as he left you. 

Warm liquid hit you in the back of the head, soaking your thin robe. You gasped and turned to find Vesta holding the dripping bucket. She giggled.

“Are you going to stare at that pillar all night? Or are you- eek!”

You cupped a handful of water and flung it back at your friend. She squealed and darted away. You forced yourself to relax.

“You go first, Vesta. I’ll watch in case any of the cleaning serfs try to come in.”

“Ah, good idea.” She slipped off her clothes and settled into the water with a sigh.

You tensed when she sank under. “Vesta!”

She surged up again, shaking her wet curls out of her eyes. “What are you worrying about now?”

“How deep is it?”

“It’s a bath for Astartes, how deep do you think it is?” With another giggle she pushed away from the wall and paddled farther into the pool.

You cocked your head to one side as you watched. “I didn’t know you could swim.”

“I learned when I was a little girl on Macragge. At my family’s seaside estate.”

“Your family had an estate?” 

“Mmmhmm.” She dove under again, reappearing in another part of the pool.

Nobility?! How in the Emperor’s Name…?

Vesta caught your eye and grinned, paddling back to the side. “You should see the look on your face!” The grin faded. “Fine. Fine. Hand me the soap and I’ll tell you the whole story.”

***

“...and so, after the plague took my parents and siblings, the inheritance came down to me, or an older cousin. I was little, so I don’t remember much. But apparently the arguments were fierce. Finally, my cousin decided to bring in the only other living member of our House to mediate.”

You sat at the edge of the pool, feet in the steaming water, as you watched Vesta rub the soap through her hair. 

“You don’t mean…?”

The medica nodded. “Lord Callistus’ portrait had hung in our grand hall for longer than I can remember. Father used to hold me up so I could see, telling me the story of how his great grandmother’s older brother had become an Ultramarine, bringing honor to our family. But, of course, he’d never met the man. None of us had.”

Vesta paused, eyes going distant. “Uncle tells me I looked like a scared rabbit when he first saw me. All alone and small and helpless. I reminded him of his little sister.” She smiled. “Anyway, my cousin had the stronger claim, so the estate went to him. And I went with Uncle Callistus.”

You looked at your friend with a clinical eye. Unscarred. Well-fed. With a lightness of manner lacking in many of the other serfs you’d encountered.

“He treats you well.”

“More like a daughter, or well, a niece, than a serf.” She nodded. “Oh, he’s a bit gruff and exacting. Not one to allow his medicae to slack off, that’s for sure!” She laughed. “But he’s kind for all that.”

She leaned back, rinsing the soap from her hair. “I’ve told him about you.”

You sat upright. “You have?”

“Mmmhmm. He says a serf with prior medical knowledge is wasted attending to just one Marine.”

A cold knot of dread formed in the pit of your stomach. “I’m content where I am, Vesta.”

“I know. You’ve told me how wonderful a lord Titus is. Over and over again.” She smirked.

You felt your face heating again, wondering just how effusive you’d been with your praise. 

Did she suspect…? No. No, surely not.

Vesta continued, her face going serious. “But, well, we’re about to go into battle. And I’ve heard what can happen to personal serfs left all alone.”

The cold knot hardened into a ball of ice. You remembered cowering in Demetrian’s locked quarters when you first arrived. You remembered the terror, the despair, of thinking he’d died.

You hadn’t cared what would happen to you.

“Have you,” your voice rasped, “have you heard anything about why we’re going to Demerium?”

Vesta folded her arms on the edge of the pool. A rare frown creased her face.

The words kept coming. “Surely it isn’t so bad. Not worse than Tyranids. And Deme- Lord Titus has conquered the vile insects before.”

Barely.

Your mind flashed to the reason for his conversion to Primaris. The new scars, ragged and red. The haggard look in his eye when he returned from each battle. The way he clung to you these past few days.

Vesta remained silent for a long while. “Usually I can discern something, just from what the Apothecaries are doing. The tools and medicines they prepare. But this time…?” She shook her head. “Not even Uncle has said anything. But it’s going to be bad, my friend, I can tell.”

“The Emperor protects.” You whispered.

“The Emperor protects.” Vesta heaved herself up out of the pool and reached for a towel. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sure Lord Titus will be fine!”

You saw straight through her false cheer.

She noticed, and came to stand next to you, wrapping a damp arm about your shoulders. “I just want you to know if, Emperor forbid, the worst should happen, you’ll have a place in the Apothecarion. I swear it!”

Leaning into her, you tried to smile. “You’re a true friend, Vesta.”

For once, she seemed at a loss for words, hugging you tight. Then, a look of alarm came over her freckled features.

“Throne damn it! I lost all sense of time!” She began frantically pulling on her underclothes and robe. “I promised Uncle I’d be back within two hours to finish the requisition reports!”

A real smile crept across your face at your friend’s antics. 

She flung her bathing supplies into their bucket. “He’ll tan my hide if I turn in late paperwork…again. Well, not really. But I’d rather not be on the receiving end of one of his lectures!” She hesitated, looking toward you.

You waved her away. “Go on. I’ll be fine. Like you said, no one should come in at this time of night. And I just wanted to wash my hair, anyway.”

“If you’re sure. Thanks!” She skidded out of the chamber.

Like the sun going behind a cloud, your brief mirth faded. Vesta’s words echoed in your mind. Old fears reared their ugly heads.

You bent and splashed some of the warm water on your face. “I can’t think like this. I can’t.”

The steaming pool called your name, promising a brief moment of comfort. 

You carefully removed your robe and underclothes. At least with Vesta gone, you no longer had to hide your winces. The flesh between your legs still ached. And when you bent over the water and saw your reflection….

“Throne of Terra….”

Bruises dotted your skin. Your neck, your breasts, your thighs. Many in the shape of large hands.

You gingerly touched the teeth marks in your shoulder. “How in the Warp would I have explained this to you, Vesta?”

Demetrian had never been so rough with you before. You should be annoyed, frightened, even.

Instead….

You ran your hands over each mark, remembering his touch, the rasp of calluses against your skin. When you reached your breasts, you remembered the heat of his mouth. Your nipples hardened beneath your fingers.

“Oh Throne….”

Desire pulsed in your core.

You tried to ignore it as you slipped into the pool. But the enveloping touch of the warm water drew a sharp gasp from your lips. After a year of cold showers and hurried sponge baths, it felt divine.

As your body relaxed, your mind wandered.

Blue eyes. Looking at you with a wonder-filled intensity. Like you provided something he could not believe he had and could not live without. He could steal your breath with a glance.

A strong body. Massive and scarred and so much more than any baseline man. Those arms had torn xenos in two with little effort. You were helpless in their embrace. 

And that voice….

“Little Healer.”

Emperor forgive you, you loved it all. You loved him.

A moan burst from your lips as your hand ventured between your legs, sheer need overriding any lingering soreness.

I shouldn’t be doing this. Especially not here!

But you couldn’t control your fingers, or the memories that raced through your mind. His hands. His tongue. The great weight of him above you. The burning stretch of his length within you.

What if he doesn’t return from this battle? What if these memories are all I will ever have?

You worked yourself faster. Pleasure rising…rising…rising….

Until it crested.

“Demetrian!”

***

Eyes watched the serf girl from the far corner of the room, shrouded in shadow. She hadn’t noticed his entrance. Too lost in her shameful indulgence.

The eyes glinted with outrage. 

“Demetrian!”

Lips curled into a snarl. He recognized this girl. He’d seen her sneaking away from what he now realized was a clandestine liaison with the disgraced Capt- Lieutenant. He cursed himself for his mental slip.

Not a Captain! No longer deserving of that rank, if he ever was to begin with.

His fists clenched. A soft splash returned his attention to the girl.

She climbed out of the water and paused on her knees. He saw the tremble in her limbs. He saw the water drip off her flushed skin, off the pointed tips of her bare, full breasts. 

He saw the bruises, the bite marks. Outrage swelled within him once more.

He could destroy the Lieutenant with this. What the Inquisition had failed to do, he could finally accomplish.

Corruption! Heresy!

Yet he didn’t move as the girl stood, drying herself. His eyes remained locked on her unmarred skin. Her rounded curves. 

Over and over again he replayed her impassioned cry. His outrage changed, tainted by a new, bitter emotion.

Why Titus? What right did Titus have to…this? To her?

As the girl dressed, a mad impulse came into his head. He imagined himself charging across the baths and tearing away the girl’s clothes. He imagined pinning her to the wall and looking…touching….  

He felt himself thickening. Panicked by the unfamiliar sensation, he reached down and grasped his member. 

The jolt of pleasure ripped a guttural snarl from his throat.

The girl froze. He saw her head jerk back and forth, yet knew her weak baseline eyes could not pierce the darkened corners.

He watched her gather her things and flee like a frightened prey animal.

Did that make him the predator? 

No! The guilty often flee from those who would save their souls.  

As he continued running his hand along his stiffened shaft, he found he enjoyed that idea. 

So, Titus thought he deserved pleasure. A fallen soul dared to reach for the blessings reserved for the righteous.

Leandros would cleanse him of such filthy perversions. In time, he would cleanse you both.

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[cajon-desastre]

Fangirlish Interviews

INTERVIEW: Sam Heughan And Caitriona Balfe On Jamie & Claire’s Growth in Outlander

Outlander Season 7 Part 2 has us in stitches! We sat down with Sam Heughan and Caitriona Balfe in a roundtable interview to talk about Jamie & Claire’s growth. They also discussed the challenges the two face in Season 7, Part 2 and the legacy they leave behind. Ready? 

Here we go!

The return to Lallybroch in Outlander Season 7 Part 2

One of the most special moments in Outlander Season 7 Part 2 is the return to Lallybroch, the ancestral home of the Frasers. For Caitriona Balfe, this location is not only a space full of history in the series but also a fundamental place in the evolution of her character, Claire. 

Talking about Lallybroch immediately brings us back to the moment when Claire shares her secret with her family. Balfe reflected on how that revelation shook the relationship between Claire and Jenny: “When there are secrets between people, it prevents them from fully connecting. For Claire and Jenny, this revelation meant being able to close that shift between them regarding their relationship and friendship. It was wonderful to return to that place where so much has happened for the characters.”

For his part, Sam Heughan highlighted the meaning of Lallybroch for Jamie and the emotional impact of returning to a place that defines so much of who he is. “Jamie has always wanted to return. Although his home is now in America, returning to Lallybroch allows him to reconnect with his family and close important chapters. However, things didn’t go as he expected, as there were many relationships he needed to resolve before he could move forward.”

Both actors agree that filming at Lallybroch is a gift for both them and viewers. According to Heughan, the scenes in Scotland capture the essence of Jamie’s character while also allowing fans to reconnect with the roots of the story.

Beyond the Wedding: The Importance of Marriage

At another point in the interview, a more personal topic was raised: the importance of marriage versus the spectacle of a wedding. This led Caitriona Balfe to reflect on the social pressure around modern weddings and how Claire, with her history of weddings and complex relationships, would have advised a young woman about prioritizing marriage over the event.

“Modern weddings have gotten out of hand. “It shouldn’t cost as much as a house to have a wedding,” Balfe said, with a mix of humor and sincerity. The conversation quickly turned playful when Heughan mentioned Roger and Brianna’s wedding on the show, pointing out that even that celebration reflected the emotional focus over the material. Balfe added that, in her experience, someone gave her a valuable piece of advice that resonated both in her life and in her portrayal of Claire: “Don’t make your wedding about your past, make it about your future. I thought that was a beautiful message.”

The dynamic between the actors was evident when Heughan humorously interrupted to point out how “Outlander” that phrase sounded, generating a moment of laughter between the two. However, Balfe returned to seriousness to conclude that, for her, a wedding should be a celebration of the beginning of a new stage: “Marriage is what matters. The party is not everything, but what you build after.”

Outlander‘s Legacy According to Sam Heughan and Caitriona Balfe

After this relaxed moment, nostalgia took over, and, after more than a decade of playing Jamie and Claire Fraser in Outlander, Sam Heughan and Caitriona Balfe face the challenge of saying goodbye to two characters who have become an extension of themselves. Playing two such iconic characters for more than a decade not only requires dedication but also a deep emotional connection. 

Caitriona Balfe acknowledged that Claire has influenced who she is today: “When I think about who I was at the beginning of this series and who I am now, part of that change has to do with Claire, but also with leading this project alongside Sam and assuming everything that implies. Claire has given me a lot of confidence and has even inspired me to use my voice. Some might say perhaps too much, but who would say that?” she said with a laugh. 

Sam Heughan shared similar sentiments, explaining that the line between him and Jamie has blurred over the years: “It’s hard to completely separate ourselves from the characters, and we’re in the process of doing that now, which sounds like a bit of a…”

Balfe chimed in humorously: “existential crisis?”

“Yeah,” Heughan replied with a laugh, “because you realize you’re saying goodbye to someone you’ve lived with for so long. I think it’s going to take me years to really understand everything Jamie has taught me, but I’ve certainly gained confidence, and experience and grown with him. Plus, he’s given me an incredible relationship, one I never thought I’d have.”

The Evolution of Jamie & Claire in Outlander Season 7 Part 2

From their first meeting to the most recent events in Outlander Season 7 Part 2, Jamie and Claire’s relationship has gone through countless trials and transformations. Including brushes with death, as happened in Outlander Season 7 Episode 15. 

Balfe explained how this journey has shaped the couple, as “they’ve been through so many trials and tribulations, and they’ve learned a lot about each other. Over time, those harsher personality traits have softened a bit, and their understanding of each other has grown. However, when they’re separated, as happens in season 7B, we see that they’re both more capable of moving on without each other, but we know that nothing good really happens when they’re apart. When they finally meet again, there’s a lot of friction because, sometimes, we act from a place of old wounds.”

Heughan also reflected on how the years have changed the couple’s dynamic: “In the early seasons, Jamie and Claire were very intense, with arguments that felt like ‘will they work it out or not? ’ Now they’ve moved past that. They can still argue, but it doesn’t put their relationship at risk anymore. They’ve reached a point where their bond is deeper and more mature. When they’re finally apart and Jamie comes back, that’s a really dramatic moment for them to work through. Until then, we see how much their relationship has grown and matured.”

With eleven years of history on Outlander, Sam Heughan and Caitriona Balfe have not only brought Jamie and Claire to life but have evolved alongside them. The series has not only been an epic journey for the characters but also for the actors, who carry with them the lessons and experiences that this adventure has left them with. As Balfe noted, “It’s definitely been the role of a lifetime,” and both she and Heughan acknowledge that it will take years to fully understand the impact of this experience, not only on their careers but also on who they are.

Jamie & Claire’s Most Complicated Moment

When discussing the most shocking recent moments from Outlander Season 7 Part 2, Balfe and Heughan reflected on what they thought of the particularly intense moment between Claire and Jamie in Outlander Season 7 Episode 12. Balfe admitted, “When I read the first version of the script, I was like, ‘We can’t do this..’ I felt very defensive of Claire and we worked closely with the writers to find the best way to tell this beautiful but complicated story based on the books. It’s a difficult moment to digest.”

Heughan, for his part, highlighted how surprising Jamie’s reaction was to him: “I didn’t expect him to be so violent. I thought he would be more understanding, but at the end of the day, he’s a flawed human being. He has pride and darkness within him, and that makes him interesting.”

The Past in Outlander Season 7 Part 2

One of the most distinct moments in Outlander Season 7 Part 2 compared to previous seasons involves Roger MacKenzie, who, instead of arriving at the period he expected, ends up interacting with someone unexpected: Jamie Fraser’s father. 

Sam Heughan explained how this unexpected connection adds a new layer to the story, as “it’s a cool moment, the way they’ve done it. Roger knocks on the door at Lallybroch expecting Jamie to open it, but he finds his father instead. It’s a disconcerting situation for him. He has to think fast and adapt. What’s interesting is why he was sent to that period, what the consequences were, and where everyone was at that time. I think Jamie is in France at that point.”

Caitriona Balfe highlighted how this plot twist amplifies the use of time travel in this season because “normally, time travel is a smaller part of the narrative, but this time it has a much more prominent role. This leads to fascinating questions about what changes someone can make by traveling back in time and what the ripple effects of those actions are.”

Exploring Characters Beyond the Books

Throughout seven seasons of Outlander, the writers have taken certain liberties with the source material, something Sam and Caitriona acknowledge as an inevitable challenge when adapting such a rich and sprawling saga. “There have been moments or elements that we’ve left out,” Heughan admitted. “Sometimes I wish we’d done more or gone a little further from the books, but adapting such a dense series of novels into hour-long episodes is almost impossible. We probably could have done 20 seasons.”

Balfe added that despite the limitations, the final seasons have tried to stay true to the spirit of the books: “I think especially in these last few seasons, there’s been an attempt to follow the books closely, but there’s always been a need to tell our own story. And that’s the exciting thing about television, finding the balance between faithfulness to the source material and narrative that works on screen.”

Heughan also reflected on the future of the Outlander universe, referring to the spin-off Outlander: Blood of My Blood, which will explore the Frasers’ story without the direct backing of the books: “It will be interesting to see how they handle that new show, as they don’t have any books to follow. It’s exciting to think about the possibilities.”

Claire’s Double Responsibilities

Likewise, Sam Heughan and Caitriona Balfe shared their thoughts on the dilemmas their characters face. As a time traveler with advanced medical knowledge, Claire has been a crucial figure in almost every season. But is it fair for others to expect her to be some kind of universal savior?

Caitriona Balfe reflected on this constant pressure: “I think Claire feels like she should be able to do more. It’s frustrating for her not to have the tools, the medications, or even enough knowledge to solve all the problems she faces. Although she comes equipped with impressive skills, even doctors today rely on books and the internet. They don’t have an encyclopedic memory of everything. And Claire is no different.”

Sam Heughan humorously added: “I don’t think she’s done enough. And neither does my daughter! They could have done so much more.”

Claire’s relationship with history is also a constant source of conflict. Balfe commented on the gaps in her historical knowledge: “I think what’s fun about the character is that she has a general idea of ​​historical events, but she doesn’t always know the details. There are moments where you think, ‘Claire if only you’d paid a little more attention in class…’”

Despite these limitations, Heughan highlighted Claire’s impressive handling of her situation: “Her knowledge of history, for a non-historian, is pretty impressive.”

The Inevitable Call of War in Outlander Season 7 Part 2

Throughout Outlander, Jamie and Claire have tried to avoid getting caught up in the historical events that shape the world around them. However, as Heughan noted, it seems that fate always drags them back into the middle of the conflict, as we see in the latest episode. “They’ve tried to change history, to avoid it, but it always finds them. This season is no exception. The War of Independence is about to break out, and though they try to stay out of it, they are inevitably drawn into the heart of events. It’s quite dramatic,” Heughan explains. 

The tension between Jamie and Claire’s personal decisions and the weight of historical events is one of the pillars that continues to drive the narrative of Outlander. Balfe added: “It’s fascinating to see how their personal relationships and historical conflicts run in parallel, creating a balance between intimate drama and the magnitude of the events they face.”

And she’s absolutely right because, after all, in addition to their love story, Claire’s constant struggle to help those around her, while carrying the expectations as a time traveler, along with Jamie’s resilience amid historical turbulence, encapsulates the spirit of Outlander. What happened in the last episode is just a taste of it, but the best thing is that there is still more to come because, definitely, that wasn’t the end.

[bpdedwardcullen]

As somebody who grew out of Harry Potter "naturally" around the start of the 2010s when I entered high school after being really into it for most of the 2000s as a kid, watching people yell and scream about how JKR bad once a week is ironically one of the only reasons I've thought for more than thirty seconds at a time about the series in nearly a decade.

I looked at the notes and comments out of curiosity, and the way people talk about how you shouldn't even pirate things related to the universe because that fuels discussion about it is funny because... is fueling discussion about it not what you're doing by whining about it once a week (at minimum)? There are YouTubers who flipped switch from being Harry Potter super fans to super haters the second they heard the word "terf" whose online platform seems dedicated to dissecting the works for every little bit of bigotry that may be there (or that they may be able to stretch the work enough to say exists; instances of both exist). I've followed people for years who were Harry Potter super fans until they heard the word "terf" and posted every criticism they could find on page one of Google search. I can go to their blog archives and pinpoint the exact point in which they heard this for the first time.

Many of you people are still obsessed with Harry Potter just like you were before, what, 2018? You're just now obsessed with hating it instead of wanting to go to the Wizarding World theme park. So many people obsessing over this shit were the ones being told to "read another book" in like 2017, and most of the others are just riding the high of having hipster vindication moments ("I disliked it before it was cool to") over it whether that's true or not.

This isn't even to mention I have not seen one fraction of the energy against Neil Gaiman works (despite his very credible accusations of sexual assault), Stephen King (with the creepy, pedophilic way he often writes and describes young girls), or the FNAF guy (who still very much profits from your tickets to see the movies, purchases of the games and merch, etc all while donating to anti-LGBT causes and being a Trump supporter).

I haven't cared about Harry Potter as a story in years and years (since before people did a 180 and started hate obsessing instead of fan obsessing), but good lord you people are obnoxious. Makes me want to play the dumb game or whatever just to spite you all, but fortunately for you I guess I have other things to do.

Before anyone says anything though, I just have to say that I belong to multiple groups that people claim JKR as bigoted against so I don't want to hear any "oh white cishet able-bodied neurotypical etc etc etc" because lol.

I haven't purchased a HP item in close to a decade - I use the books I already had as doorstops or to prop a laptop up for meetings nowadays.

There is NO "death of the author" with JK Rowling - she controls and continues to profit from her IP, and uses that money to fund hate groups.

[dronningreid]

✧ Part 1: All the times I knew you

A seemingly ordinary case turns into something more when reader returns to Reid's life. Forcing him to tell something that he never told, the beginning of a story that broke his heart fourteen years ago.

change the ending series masterlist

who? Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

category: angst/fluff

warnings/content: reader jealous, reader is a little mean to jj (nothing personal, i love that queen), mentions of maeve, allusion to bullying, special appearance of alex blake, reid is a little mean to reader, very vague mentions of a case and reader and reid appear aged 12, 15 and 31. English is not my first language.

word count: 3.1K

a/n: Hello this is the first part of my series 'Change the ending' I hope you enjoy this as much as I loved writing this. There are a couple of references to the song cardigan (because that is my most personal song and also Spencer's)

14 years, 160 days, 33 minutes and 13 seconds. That was all the time that had passed since Reid last saw you.

It is said that there are always more questions than answers and that has never made more sense than today.

Today's case promised to be average on the Reid scale, of course.

Today promised to be just another day, like the rest. Just an irrelevant Wednesday where he would miss the Sunday of talking to Maeve, which was still fresh in his mind.

As fresh as you, a memory he should have let burn away fourteen years ago. But it wasn't that easy, even without his eidetic memory you attached yourself to his cerebral cortex as if you had been there since the first time he opened his eyes.

If there was one thing he had learned all those years ago, it was that the memories most want to forget are the ones hold on to the most tightly.

"Earth calling Reid." JJ waved her hand in front of his friend's face.

He blinked a few times. “Yeah. What’s up?” He tried to keep his gaze on JJ, but his eyes kept drifting to your shape. So close and so far at the same time... Just like the last time.

Maybe it was a mistake in his mind and it wasn't you, fourteen years had passed. How could he even recognize you? He didn't even know if you were still alive.

Maybe this time it was like when everything ended and he thought he saw you everywhere. In the grocery line, at school, at home...

As if you were a phantom he couldn't get rid of.

He knew those shadows weren't you and yet every time he thought he saw you it was like such a simple activity like breath became complicated out of nowhere. You used to have that effect, honestly you still have it.

Jennifer frowned before turning her gaze to you. But a couple more eyes weren't enough for you realize what was happen. "You know her?" The question caught him off guard.

How should he even answer such a question? Yes, more than anything. No. Of course. Maybe. Neither was a sufficient answer because on the one hand of course he knew you, at least that's how it was before and that's why he didn't know you, at least not now.

He shoved his hands into his pockets before finally looking at JJ. “She looks like someone I used to know.” 100% true? No, but pretty close.

"I was hoping so, it would help us if you met her." Reid frowned. "Bertram is our most viable suspect, if we lose him we're going to hit a wall." JJ explained something that Reid should already know, should.

"And what does that have to do with her?" Reid raised an eyebrow.

JJ was the one who frowned this time. "Spence, she is Bertram's lawyer. Are you okay?"

When he was about to answer, you approached him, increasing his questions, doubts and clumsiness.

"I'm Bertram Harris' lawyer." You introduced yourself before continuing, answering at least one of Spencer's questions. "What is the imaginary evidence against my client? Because if there was real evidence, charges would have already been filed." He knew that harsh tone so well...

"We have 48 hours before we file charges." Reid replied seriously.

"46 hours." You corrected so casually. He recognized you, but you didn't recognize him? Ouch.

"Well, we have a profile-" You didn't let Jennifer finish speaking.

"Profiles." You let out an exaggerated sigh. "I bet a lot of people would fit in your profile, so that's not enough to prove my client guilty in court." You spoke firmly, fierce as a defense lawyer, and you weren't in court yet. And even though he didn't exactly like your attitude, he had to admit that you were good.

Reid crossed his arms. "Out of so many people, it's amazing that the evidence will lead us right to your client. So we'll take advantage of the 46 hours we have left."

You snorted. "Fine, but when time passes and all of you have nothing against my client, he'll be upset about the time you made him waste." You pulled a pen out of your bag. "Give me your names."

JJ and Spencer shared a look before sighing and agreeing to your request. "Jennifer Jareau." You jotted the name down on your palm.

"Spencer Reid." A hint of mockery crept into his serious tone. Yes, you probably didn't remember his face, but his name was something you'd never forget.

You barely wrote the S on your palm and it was like the ink turned to poison when it came into contact with your skin. You immediately rubbed your palm against your trousers before looking up. "Spencer Re...?" The last few letters died in your mouth.

Of course, no one else had those beautiful eyes with hazel colors and golden flecks. So bright, so honest, so innocent. But now in those eyes there was nothing more than severity.

JJ's gaze traveled from Reid to you and back to Reid, using her profiling skills to determine why the air had suddenly become so thick.

"You look... Different." You whispered as he suddenly decided that silence was his best friend.

The wall he had built so long ago was still as strong as the last time you saw him. The last time he saw you he was so serious but this time after fourteen years he made you feel like you were seventeen again.

"You too." Rather than stating the obvious, that sounded like an insult.

JJ cleared her throat. "Spence." He looked away from you. "You know her?" Jennifer whispered in a failed attempt to get you not hear her.

"No." You were surprised at how quickly the letters that came out of his mouth took shape.

"Liar." You pointed out before looking at Jennifer. Though your attention wavered to the ring on her finger. "He knows every inch of me." You lifted your chin.

JJ raised her eyebrows and the way she looked at Reid it seemed more like gossip to her than a tease...

You thought. <<Yeah, maybe she doesn't>>

"Her husband's name is Will. It's not me, she's just my friend." He clarified, though it's not like you were entitled to clarification. At least you hadn't had that right for a long time.

Even when he was just a student he also had that ability to read you like an open book.

"And as for what you said, I'm not a liar." His tone was painfully stern. "I knew you before, fourteen years ago, but that's too long for anyone to remember." That's what he wanted to repeat to himself, because honestly the memories that were about you had no expiration date. "Now and maybe even then I have no idea who you are."

He gave you one last look before turning on his heel and walking off to somewhere where he couldn't sense your presence.

"I'll talk to Bertram about not pressing charges." JJ looked at you in confusion and to be honest even you couldn't believe that a stupid teenage love affair was enough to affect your work. At least you weren't the only one going through something like that.

"And I'm sorry..." A lump formed in your throat. "Maybe I shouldn't even ask you this, but could you deliver something to Spencer?" You then pulled a card out of your bag and handed it to Jennifer.

She studied the black card in her hand for a few seconds, carefully looking at your name and phone number. "Of course, I'll give it to him." She smiled slightly at you.

You gave her an awkward smile before turning away. God, you felt so stupid now for thinking she was his wife. Besides, what would be wrong with him having a wife? Spencer Reid deserved to be happy.

As soon as you left the police station, JJ pulled out his phone. "Penelope, you won't believe what just happened."

∗⋅✧⋅∗

Reid was in a small office going over all the evidence again for a reason he wouldn't admit out loud.

But he had already checked everything three times and had hit a wall all three times. The time it took him to figure things out could vary, but this was different.

What he didn't know was that the answer was there, it's just that his mind was too clouded at the moment to realize it.

And all that mental fog had a name: yours.

He loosened his tie, taking a deep breath to regulate his racing heart. Apparently you still had that effect on him, you, the protagonist of a story so old that it must have already had cobwebs. But unfortunately for him, that wasn't the case...

Spencer gripped the edge of the desk before taking another deep breath.

But his attempts to relax were cut short when his worst enemy: his own memory made him relive the last time he kissed your lips...

The soft skin against each other, the mingled breaths, your hands in his hair and the way he didn't see that those would be the last kisses.

"Another disadvantage of eidetic memory," he told himself. But now that he thought about it, did it have any benefit? Of course it did. But all the tangled threads in his mind didn't allow see the reality.

Someone knocked on the door and he jumped slightly in place before looking towards the door. "Blake..."

Blake smiled slightly at him. "Hi." Her eyes scanned the papers scattered across the desk and then Reid's disheveled appearance. "Is everything okay?"

He nodded quickly, taking his seat back behind the desk. "Yeah." But the way Alex looked at him made him say something else. "Not really."

She sat down in front of him. "Yes, we all know about the pretty lawyer."

"Jennifer..." Reid huffed before running his hands over his face.

"And who is she?" Blake asked in her usual calm tone.

<<Good question>>

A short time ago he was telling her about Maeve, he never thought he would tell Blake about another girl again and not so suddenly... But honestly you weren't another girl, you were THE GIRL.

Reid sighed. "She's nobody." He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"It must be someone if the smartest guy I know hasn't already given us a big revelation that will help with this case." Blake looked at him with understanding eyes. "Go ahead Reid, talking about it will help."

Reid rubbed his knees with his hands. "Well I can't tell you who she's, but I can tell you who she was."

∗⋅✧⋅∗

Spencer took a deep breath. "I don't even know where to start."

"The beginning is perhaps the easiest." She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, encouraging him to continue.

"We had a lot of beginnings, if that's possible." He ran a hand through his hair.

His mind traveled back to the first interaction he had with you, when you were both 12. But before that, something else had to happen for him to get to know you, something very bad.

He was in the library when Harper Hillman approached him.

"Alexa Isben wants to meet you behind the field house." She said.

She was there. So was the entire football team. They stripped him naked and tied him to a goal post. So many kids were there, just watching...

He begged them to, but they just watched. Then finally they got bored and they left.

He had told that story to Morgan years ago, but he had completely erased you from it. Until now.

Alex looked at him with compassion. "It got dark and I thought I would stay there forever. But then she appeared..." He looked away, remembering it as if it were yesterday.

A little twelve-year-old you ran towards the goal post. "Oh my god. Who did this to you?" You kept your eyes fixed on his defeated face.

He had never seen you before, did you even study there? Because you didn't look the same age as the guys he was going to graduate with, the ones who had done this to him...

You looked much younger, like him.

You weren't discouraged by his lack of words, instead you considered how to help him. "Wait here, I'll go get some clothes and some scissors to cut the rope." You didn't wait for an answer, you just ran off to find what you told him.

The cold of the night was beginning to seep through his skin, freezing him. He didn't even think you'd come back, but then. "Be careful with the scissors, if I sting you, let me know." So you put all your effort into cutting the rope, at that moment you regretted not carrying a knife for ease.

Luckily, a single cut was enough to release the rope. You then spread the clothes you had found over him and covered your eyes with your hand.

"I hope it fits, it's my brother's so it might be a little big on you." Spencer took the clothes from your hands.

"Thank you." He whispered as he hurriedly put on each item of clothing. "You can look now." He said once he finished putting on the shirt.

You pulled your hand away from your eyes. “Oh, I forgot the jacket. You must be freezing cold.” You said as you hurriedly unbuttoned your loose black cardigan.

"Oh, you don't have to..." Embarrassment seeped into his words but you still put your cardigan on him.

"It's okay. You need it more than me. By the way, I'm..." Then you told him your name.

He watched as you finished buttoning the cardigan. "Spencer. Spencer Reid."

"You should tell me the names of those who did this to you, then I can tell my mother to expel them. She's the principal." You let your hands fall to your sides.

"It's not that bad..." Yes it was.

"Of course it was!" You exclaimed. "Give me names and I'll beat them up myself. I hate bullies."

Spencer let out a light laugh that quickly disappeared at the bitter feelings bubbling up inside him. "They're the older guys, you can't handle them. Besides, this could have been worse."

"Don't underestimate me." You tried to joke. "Worse? How long have you been tied up there? It's almost midnight" You looked at him with concern.

"Midnight?" His eyes widened. Surely his mother was worried that he hadn't come home.

So you grabbed him by the sleeve of the cardigan and dragged him along. "Come, I'll ask my dad to take you home."

∗⋅✧⋅∗

"So her dad drove you home?" Blake asked.

"Yes. It was like midnight when I got home. My mom didn't even realize I was late. She was having one of her episodes..." He sigh, how could something that had happened so long ago still have such a negative power over him? "I know I shouldn't get into a stranger's car and technically nothing bad happened to me, they helped me. But I did it... Because I felt like I could trust her but maybe it wasn't a good idea from the start."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that to meet her."

Spencer sighed and looked down. "I regret about both."

"Both?" Blake looked at him in confusion.

Reid looked up. "Yeah, what happened that day and meeting her." He replied with a seriousness too cold to be true.

Blake stared at him in silence for a couple of seconds before speaking again. "What happened next?"

"I don't saw her again, it was like she just vanished." He sighed. "Then three years passed and there she was again..."

"I was studying for my first PhD at MIT so I decided that over the holidays I wanted to go home to visit my mother. But instead of taking a flight I decided to travel by train."

It's funny how a single decision can affect our future.

∗⋅✧⋅∗

"The last train to Las Vegas leaves in five minutes." A voice announced through one of the speakers.

"One ticket, please." The woman at the ticket office handed him his ticket once he gave her the money.

Reid was about to board the train when you crashed into it.

"I'm so sorry." you continued to apologize as you helped him up from the floor.

He brushed off his clothes once he was standing again. "It's okay, don't worry."

You tried not to look at him, not after you had thrown him to the floor. But he did look at you which made his heart skip a beat when he recognized you.

He stared in your direction for a couple of seconds before deciding to continue and board the train.

"Oh, I, I had my money here." You patted your jacket pockets. "If you could just help me I'd pay you right away... It's just that it's very important for me to have that ticket because it's the last train to Las Vegas and I really need to go." But the woman at the ticket office didn't take pity on you.

Then Reid came over. "I'll pay for the ticket."

The woman didn't say anything, she just accepted Reid's money and handed you the ticket, which you immediately took.

"Thank you so much, you just saved my life." You followed him to board the train together.

"Okay, we're even now." He smiled slightly at you.

You hadn't planned on sitting next to a complete stranger but you followed him. "We're even?" You asked as he placed his luggage in the compartment.

"I'm Spencer." He hope that will refresh your mind.

You opened your mouth in surprise. "Of course! Spencer Reid, I remember you well." You scanned him from top to bottom. "The answer to where I left my favorite cardigan three years ago." You tried to load your luggage into the compartment but couldn't.

He helped you out, like a true gentleman. "I'm sorry I didn't see you again after that. Do you want it back?" He asked after closing the compartment door.

"You still have it?" You asked in disbelief.

"It's my favorite too." He whispered.

∗⋅✧⋅∗

"I didn't plan on things being like this, but she and I were together the whole trip. Just chatting and-" He looked down as nostalgia washed over him. "Marked me like a blood stain..."

"She seems pretty nice so far." Blake commented. "What went wrong?"

"She was really nice." He sighed. "At that time, nothing bad had happened. In fact, after that incredible trip I lost track of her again and didn't see her again until two years later."

He looked up. "But I didn't really know her until our third beginning, when everything started to go wrong..."

[mask131]

I am re-reading the Silmarillion, and something strikes me. The women of Tolkien's world have been talked about TO DEATH especially with all the recurring debates surrounding the Rings of Power series.

As we all know, Tolkien was not a "feminist" in the modern sense of the word. He had a very male-centric point of view and appreciation of the world, he had male-driven and male-centered stories, and actual women characters were sparse and rare. There are only five really big female characters in "The Lord of the Rings" - the quintet of Galadriel, Eowyn, Goldberry, Lobelia and Shelob. [No, don't talk to me about Arwen, she only really was a character in the movies, in the book she's just there in the appendix and she was literaly an afterthought of Tolkien to act as Eowyn's romantic double...]

Consider this. Galadriel, Eowyn, Goldberry, Lobelia and Shelob. This tells you everything you need to know about Tolkien's women, in good and bad.

The Silmarillion has the same motif of having a lot of female characters, only for most of them to be just footnotes, secondary characters with no lines, under-developped one-liners... with in a contrast a handful of super-cool, super-badass, complex and developed heroines at the center of the plot.

Aka, on the bad side, when listing the Valar, while Tolkien gives an interesting personality, great domains and cool attributes to all the male ones, half of the female ones are just... there. And do one stuff. And never appear again. I mean come on... Vana and Nessa? Estë and Vairë were done dirty... That's the actual type of "non-feminism" Tolkien has. It isn't about him hating women or trying to be offensive in his depictions - it is about him just, not putting as much thought, effort and care into his female characters as his male ones, a bit the same way he creates the vast expanses of the East and South of Middle-Earth and then never bothers actually developing more of it or seeking to tell tales of it - but that's for another discussion about Tolkien's "racism". Here we talk about women.

But here's the thing, aka the good side... When Tolkien does find the time and care to develop and flesh out a female character, by Iluvatar he goes all out! Again, we are back on what I said earlier: the women of Lord of the Rings can be counted on one hand... but these fingers are Galadriel, Eowyn and Shelob, so you can't claim he isnt writing powerful, important or uninterestng female characters. Which leads me to my original remark - as usual I get driven away in digressions of all sorts and kinds.

Have you ever noticed that Melkor's greatest enemies, the ones he fears the most, and his most effective foes... are women? Tolkien might not like to put them front and center of his tales, and he might have been a man of the early 20th century England in culture and mind, but boy does he has something to say about how women are actually the first enemies of the literal embodiment of evil and destruction! I mean think about it. Varda of the Stars, and Yavanna of the trees. Nienna has her ambiguous relationship to him - her tears work against him, and yet without her plea for him he likely would not have been released from the dungeons of Mandos. You have Melian with her Girdle, and Luthien with her Hound. And of course most of all Arien, guardian of the Sun, not only one of the rare fire spirits that Melkor couldn't corrupt (despite him basically ruling over all fire), but that frightens him so much he keeps hiding away and doesn't even dare to attack her... [I also reblogged some times ago a post praising the brilliance of Tolkien keeping the old European sun-moon motifs but switching the genders. The weaker, inconsistant, lustful, whimsical, disorderly, untrustworthy Moon is now a male principle, while the steady, dangerous, strong, powerful and beautiful Sun is a woman.]

It is actually REALLY easy to do a feminist retelling of Tolkien's work. Melkor doesn't fear Manwë as much as Varda. Aulë's works and servants get corrupted by Melkor, while Yavanna's do not. Melian and Luthien actively works against him. He friggin' pisses himself when the Woman of the Sun shows up. Sure, there are some evil female characters that serve him down the line and are relegated to the "obscure footnotes and undescribed secondary characters" zone - Thuringwethil the vampire or queen Beruthiel. I coul also dropped deleted characters from early drafts, like the ogress Fluithuin. But among them stands Ungoliant... THE only true female big bad on the dark side of Arda. THE badass, nightmarish, creepy eldritch abomination. And who ends up double-crossing Melkor, almost KILLING him, and again making him basically shit in his pants - as Varda and Arien do.

The first enemies of Morgoth are not the Valar, or the Maiar, or the Elves... It's women.

[ominus-potato]

Part 6 of the Pining Mario Series is out!

The SMG4 crew + Mr Puzzles are on their way to a convention they have been invited to as esteemed guests! But since it's a long journey, the gang decide to stay overnight at a nice hotel!

However, things get interesting when it's revealed that SMG4 and SMG3 changed the room-plan so that Mario and his +1, Mr Puzzles, are actually SHARING!!

Now the Italian has to find a way to get through a night of sleeping directly next to his crush. Perhaps this could be his chance to get one step closer to dating the man?

~~~~~~~~~~~

It took a while but it’s finally out!! This is the longest story I’ve ever written so I really hope you enjoy it! It’s my favourite part of the series too so expect good drama!!

[autumngracy]

In my original fiction I have a situation with a character that I think is a novel approach to this issue? (Without spoilers)

Basically the character *is* born "special" in a sense, but their existence is an accident and so are any interesting or beneficial attributes their "specialness" gives them. No one (including themselves) is aware that they're different for almost the entire series, and their "special" attributes go unnoticed until the very end.

While it could be argued that their "specialness" secretly affects the plot along the way and "helps" the character, there isn't really anything pointing to the character being unique in a way that benefits them. In fact, the few hints they get along the story that they *may* be different in some way only serve to give them an existential crisis and additional ptsd fodder.

There are actually several characters in the series like this that aren't aware of having a unique trait for a very long time, and when they finally learn of it, it mostly just serves to freak them out. There isn't really any sense of "fate" or "being a chosen one"; there aren't any gods or prophecies or anything. There's only random accidents that happen to propel the story along. If there is any semblance of "fate" in the series, it's really just chance occurrences being exploited by someone.

So, I don't know, does this counter the trope or play into it? A "special" protag whose specialness doesn't help them in any obvious way, and isn't known for most of the story?

Like, "you're special, but only incidentally. The plot may or may not have been able to happen if you *weren't* special, but we'll never really know. The specialness will devastate you mentally and emotionally. It will also effect you physically, but the jury's out on whether that's a good or a bad thing. Have fun dealing with the consequences. lol"

The inciting incidents of the plot also stem from a character being accidentally different in a way that complicates their life both positively and negatively, so I guess a lot of it is "making the best of the random hand you've been dealt".

The specialness of the characters isn't really what makes them into "cool heroes". (Many of them are, arguably, uncool and unheroic quite a lot of the time.) It's what they choose to do with their lives that counts.

rudolph the red nosed reindeer

[highlynerdy]

2024 year end Cdrama list

It's mid January and I'm finally getting around to finishing this up. I watched quite a lot of cdramas in 2024. Like. A lot. 28 dramas! (Plus a rewatch of Nirvana in Fire and Joy of Life 1) That might not sound like that much but the previous 2 years I watched 5 and 4 respectively. I was really inspired by @dangermousie 's wrap up list but decided to group mine by how much I enjoyed them since I watched both older and current dramas. Also, this list is just my personal opinions so if there's a drama on here that you loved and I didn't, that's just preference and not an attack on your taste. Secondly, this may contain spoilers for semi-recent dramas. And finally, I really did try to not be long winded but...yeah. Here we go.

❌ DROPPED SUPER EARLY Are You The One - the look of the drama and just the first two episodes were both nah for me.

Go East - I unfairly only gave this one episode so maybe I’ll check it out in the future but I just wasn’t vibing with the premise at all. I usually don’t go in for comedies to begin with. 

Princess Royal - I love both of the lead actors but I couldn’t get into it.

Love’s Rebellion - Nope. Two cutesy and not my style.

Mysterious Lotus Casebook - I tried three separate times to get into this drama and finally made it to episode 6 or 7 before realizing I just couldn’t do it.

⭐️ WATCHED A LOT BUT STILL DROPPED Love Game In Eastern Fantasy - This was so cute and funny and also gorgeous visuals. Yu Shuxin just shines in comedies. But somewhere around episode 24, I realized I had just been 2x speed going through everything for like three episodes so I dropped it.

The Story of Pearl Girl - I adore Zhao Lusi and Liu Yuning and I was so excited to see them together. But wow, this one was an absolute snoozefest. I gave it 16 episodes and I wish I had quit earlier. Uninteresting, uninspired, just a blah fest of a show.

Till the End of the Moon - this one might get me straight up assassinated because I know how much people love this show but I just could not get into it. I kept waiting and waiting to care and finally bailed after 36 episodes. The costumes were eye candy but that’s all I can say.

Destined - I wanted more Bai Jingting after watching him in Reset and New Life Begins but this drama just never grabbed me. I think I made it to episode 17 or 18 before calling it. 

In Blossom - Liu Yuexi is absolutely gorgeous in this drama but even his amazing gray streaked hair and beautifully haunted face couldn’t keep me interested in this drama after the reveal. 

Love and Redemption - another one that might get me shot for dropping because I know it’s a beloved classic. I gave it 31 episodes - more than halfway through the 59 episodes - before realizing that I hadn’t really cared all that much and watching an episode felt like a chore. I may try to pick it up again one day but life is too short and there are too many dramas to watch something I’m not vibing with.

⭐️⭐️⭐️ FINISHED AND LIKED BUT NOT LOVED The Romance of Tiger and Rose - I picked this after finishing MJTY and it was a fun little romp. Zhao Lusi is so comedically talented. But ultimately this was just a fun watch I didn’t think much of after I finished it.

Legend of Fuyao - this was a long one. It had some great moments, clearly defined arcs, and interesting characters. I finished it and enjoyed it while watching but I haven’t thought much about it since the end.

Story of Kunning Palace - I wanted to love this one. The opening scene was so fucking fire but the rest of the series didn’t really grab me. I think Zhang Linghe and Bai Lu just don’t have a believable chemistry to me. I shipped her with the princess far more.

Kill Me Love Me - This one started out like a rocket! The incredibly believable chemistry between two grown ass adults, the sex appeal, the unhinged potential. But it was a classic case of cdrama ending falling all to pieces. Too many hands in the pot lead to a WTF conclusion.

Lost You Forever 2 - Part 1 is one of my very favorites this year. But part 2 was a serious case of censorship absolutely destroying the logic of a story. I almost didn’t even finish it after what they did to CX’s character/the dream revelation but I still powered through to a thoroughly meh ending. 

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ REALLY LIKED Eternal Brotherhood - it took me two tries to get into this one but I’m glad I did. The three main ML’s had such an amazing relationship and I loved the complexity of their characters and their relationships. Love of Nirvana - The way they transformed the main couple from "trying to murder you repeatedly" to "you’re the only one for me and I'll die for you" was shocking and yet it was so believable?? Stellar. People had a fit about the ending but I thought it made sense for the story and that’s all I really care about.

The Rise of Ning - Zhang Wanyi getting to show off his patented smile turning into a terrifyingly menacing murder face?? Sign me up. He and Ren Min were a delight to watch together. 

A Familiar Stranger - my first mini drama! Cheng Lei was fire. Even though it was short, it somehow packed an entire story in there. I can’t wait to check out more mini dramas.

Snowfall - where were the censors?! Did the creators of Snowfall lock them away in a basement? This drama was a fever dream of WTF and it was so enjoyable. Gao Weiguang is one fine specimen and he played an eternal vamp so well. Ouyang Nana was a star too. 

Under The Skin 2 - Though I didn’t love this season as much as the first, it was still so enjoyable to see the gang back together again. And to see just how GAY they could make it. I struggled with a lot of the logic in some places but still enjoyed the look into the darker side of Shen Yi. 

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ LOVED My Journey to You - A visual fucking feast and was the most beautiful drama I’d ever seen until Fangs of Fortune (unsurprisingly also a GJM drama). I loved soft Gong Ziyu and poison baby Gong Yuanzhi.

Under The Skin - my first modern and my first cop drama. Honestly I only gave it a try because I needed more TJC after Lost You Forever. It was a great story, killer chemistry, and the art was incredible. 

The Double - a supremely satisfying revenge tale with killer performances from both leads and the main villain. Also gorgeously shot.

New Life Begins - I only checked this one out for more Bai Jingting after loving him in Reset. I’m glad I gave it a shot because even though it isn’t my normal kind of drama the cast and story were lovely and engaging. So much humor and sweetness.

The Story of Minglan - Epic. It’s a beloved classic for a reason. Minglan is a brilliant, patient, resourceful character who survives and thrives within the bounds of tough society and it’s heartbreaking and satisfying and moving throughout. It’s also like watching a play on screen because there are entire episodes that stay in one scene, with one camera. 

The Legend of Shen Li - silly, beautiful, romantic, angsty, action packed. Two grown ass humans in a gorgeous xianxia. The relationship was so satisfying to watch from beginning to end. 

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️➕ ABSOLUTE FAVES THAT REWIRED MY BRAIN Reset - This show was so incredibly done. Pacing, story, characters, the actual pressure I felt as they tried to figure it all out. Bai Jingting and Zhao Jinmai were brilliant separately and together. There was a side character in this that made me cry with happy, hopeful tears and I’ll never forget him. Cat apostle, my beloved. 

Lost You Forever - It was my first time watching every single one of the leads and I fell in love with every single one of them. I was addicted so early on that it was wild. Yang Zi as Xiao Yao played a FL that is allowed to be messy and unforgiving and broken. So much trauma from every single character that made sense within the universe. My very first ot3 vibes from XY/TSJ/XL too. 

Blossom - What an unexpected story for the end of the year! Meng Ziyi and Li Yunrui as two outrageously smart, hyper competent, constantly motivated leads?? No dumb, constant misunderstandings? Acting true to their character within the universe? Just a solid plot, Song Mo’s gorgeous gray wig, romance like you wouldn’t believe, and time travel! 

Fangs of Fortune - This show. THIS FUCKING AMAZING SHOW. The trailer made it look interesting, but there is no way in hell I expected the full choke-hold this story had on me. I woke up at like 7:30 in the morning to watch the new episodes. It was a visual feast that I’m not sure will ever be topped, unless it’s by another GJM drama. And the poly vibes were glorious as were the found family moments. I also cried so much in the last few episodes that my glasses were covered in tears and I could barely breathe through my nose. Wouldn’t have missed a single moment and I can’t wait to watch it again.

Joy of Life 2 - My beloved Joy of Life. It's truly a masterpiece of storytelling and acting. It was such a long wait between 1 and 2 that I was more than a little worried it wouldn’t be able to hold up, but ohhhhh it did. Almost the entire cast was back and on their A game. The balancing act of humor and drama was so perfectly done. A good continuation of the plot plus new characters to fall in love with and shenanigans to get into. Just. I can’t actually explain in words how much I love this story. 

FAVORITE MALE CHARACTERS

Fan Xian (Zhang Ruoyun), Joy of Life 2 - my favorite drama character of all time. He is at turns irreverent and serious, funny and devastating. He is smart, thoughtful, idealistic, and traumatized and through everything he still uses his power to fight injustices. Watching him try to balance everything is heartbreaking and inspiring and just so good.

Zhao Yuanzhou (Hou Minghao), Fangs of Fortune - HMH absolutely owned this role. A tortured, ancient demon who wants nothing more than to die as an escape from his suffering and regret finds so many reasons maybe living wouldn't be too bad. His story truly broke me.

Song Mo (Li Yunrui), Blossom - From a child who escaped a terrible father and grew up with his military uncle to an unyielding and honorable adult. He took his trauma and used it to make the world better place. Righteous to the point of endangering himself and others, and willing to do whatever to protect his people and uncover the truth.

FAVORITE FEMALE CHARACTERS

Xiao Yao (Yang Zi), Lost You Forever - She!!!! Messy, broken, at times unforgiving, fiercely loving, loyal, playful, smart. One of the most of fleshed out female leads I've found in years of watching cdramas.

Dou Zhao (Meng Ziyi), Blossom - kind, smart, savvy, resourceful, and level headed. Yeah, she had a bit of a cheat code on take 2, but she utilized it so well without it being Girl Boss unrealistic.

Sheng Minglan (Zhao Liying), The Story of Minglan - watching her grow from a child to a girl to a woman and all the struggles she had to overcome was so enjoyable. Watching her confidence grow with the MLs steadfast support for her to not be a pushover was so pleasing. The moment she stood up to her family was a scene I watched over and over again.

NEEDS TO BE MURDERED

Almost every single fucking Cdrama dad! But especially the dad from The Rise of Ning, both leads dad’s from The Story of Minglan, and Song Mo’s dad from Blossom.

BEST BAD GUYS The Emperor (Joy of Life 2) - The Emperor's charismatic nature that we saw in S1 definitely had some obvious and brutal slips this year. Orchestrating truly baffling scenes, executing vocal opponents, encouraging infighting with his sons, and then showing his power at the flower festival. Terrifying character.

Li Lun (Fangs of Fortune) - The exact kind of bad guy I love. Yes, I get why he was upset. Does that mean he had to go down the road he did? No. And that's why it was so satisfying and moving. At the heart of it he was just a broken soul who was abandoned and it festered. His redemption was beautiful and meaningful and became the reason I mad ship ZYZ/ZYC/and him.

“ARE THE CENSORS DEAD” AWARD

Pretty much could just point at almost all of Fangs of Fortune, most of Snowfall, and good portion of Kill Me, Love Me. I hope they continue to be off chasing butterflies somewhere.

FAVORITE SHIPS

Zhao Yuanzhou x Zhou Yichen/Wen Xiao/Li Lun (Fangs of Fortune) - I know only WX and him were canon but like. We all know what was going on. You can't have someone that magnetic, gorgeous, and powerful, who has bonkers chemistry with everyone, and not ship him with everyone in different variations.

Dou Zhao x Song Mo (Blossom) - It was outrageously satisfying watching these two be at odds with each other and even more so when they finally came together. The two of them were so in sync and supportive and just down to do whatever for the other. The wedding bracelet scene was just!!!

Shen Li x Xing Zhi (The Legend of Shen Li) - Two grown ass humans who are perfectly capable on their own, but even more capable together. The tension between them and the journey to break the bindings that trapped them both was a show to behold. He happy to be bossed around by his tiny wifey was 10/10. Plus they're just so gorgeous to look at.

FAVORITE SCENES

I have no idea how I could possibly narrow this down to a reasonable number because there were so many scenes that will live in my brain rent free forever. But ones that just pop out.

Fan Xian (Joy of Life 2) - watching the censor being executed was brutal in a way that I wasn't prepared for. But just like Teng Zijing's death in S1 being super formative to FX's character arc, this pain and unfair punishment also fueled his rage and righteousness. And ZRY's control and display of his emotions is unparalleled.

Shen Li (The Legend of Shen Li) exploding into flames and fury to become the phoenix and plummeting into the ocean to defeat the villain. Holy shit, what a visual.

Xiao Yao (Lost You Forever 1) kissing Tushan Jing's scars like. It was so tender and emotional and impactful. I swooned and squealed and fell so much more in love with them.

I don't know if it's a "favorite", but it is definitely one I will never forget. The rain execution scene in Eternal Brotherhood with Di Lun and Zichuan Xiu. The devastation he felt at this moment, I FELT.

Almost every scene in Fangs of Fortune. But every time a demon died, them turning into gorgeous sparkling light was a visual I'll never get over.

BEST COSTUMING

Fangs of Fortune - the work that went into the costuming on this show is bonkers. The detailing of all the motifs for each character, the fabrics, beading, accessories. I just want to bow down to the design team for how hard they went on this drama.

FAVORITE 2024 CDRAMA SONG

Yuanzhou's Youth (Hou Minghao), Fangs of Fortune - the way this song grows and builds and showcases not only HMH's lovely voice, but the essence of ZYZ's character made it my favorite of this year. The entire soundtrack is stellar though.

BIGGEST DISAPPOINTMENT

Lost Your Forever 2 - Just. The It Was All A Dream bullshit made me want to throw my tv out the window. It was a no for me.

BIGGEST GOOD SURPRISE

Fangs of Fortune was the biggest surprise for me for sure. But I was also pleasantly surprised by Blossom and Reset.

2024 DRAMAS I HAVEN’T SEEN THAT I MOST WANT TO WATCH

I still want to check out Love In The Desert, Dashing Youth, Riverside Code at Qingming Festival, and War of Faith.

MOST ANTICIPATED

Veil of Shadows, A Dream Within A Dream, Legend of the Female General, and Love of the Divine Tree. But I'm sure there will be many more!