#i need to give erin some more love

[lindscys]

psst psst psst

[luveline]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐬

Aaron sets the record straight when an overheard conversation convinces you that you’re not good enough for him. 5k

c: fem, hurt/comfort, fluff, suggestive theme (non-graphic implied sex scene). hotch is a good husband. requested here  

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“Honey, this is Clint McMoore. We went to college together.”

You step into Aaron’s side. Clint McMoore is a handsome older man with silvering hair and a beard that looks out of control. His bowtie is loose around his neck, and his cheeks are blotchy with drink, but Clint smiles at you and offers his hand. “How do you do?” he asks. 

“Quite well, thank you.” You’ve been practising fancy dinner talk with Aaron’s friend Emily for weeks. She has all the political background you’d needed to see yourself into the culture. “It’s nice to meet one of Aaron’s school friends.” 

“While you still can,” Clint says with a chuckle. Something about being in your forties is obscene to these men, as though death waits for fifty candles to snuff them out. 

“Clint and I were in the Student Theatre club together, our first year.”

You grin, smile laced with teasing. Each time you’re reminded of Aaron’s young interest in drama, you have to focus very hard on not laughing; the Aaron who has his hand to your shoulder isn’t one you could envision on stage. “Did you perform together?” you ask. 

“Saturday Night Fever,” Clint says. 

They laugh and reminisce. You find these sorts of events hard to keep up with, but you come when Aaron asks because he so rarely asks you for anything. He hasn’t mentioned knowing that you don’t like coming, But perhaps he hasn’t noticed —it’s not like you to frown, not when you’re with Aaron. The way he treats you, he probably thinks you’re the happiest girl in the world. 

There’s a contentedness to be found when he touches you. He spreads a hand against your lower back and you let yourself sink into his side, curled into his embrace and amazed at the giggly laugh he lets out as Clint brings up the ‘King of the River’ tattoo Aaron has hidden beneath his shirt. You’re tempted to kiss his cheek.

Clint asks, “Isn’t that right?” and forces you back into the conversation. 

You’re wearing a dress you panicked over for days. It’s black, cut playfully just above your knees with small petal sleeves. Your necklace is of a delicate chain and a not so delicate pearl —a black Tahitian South Sea pearl that glows pink and green in the light. For you, Aaron wrote, his pretty scrawl inky across a square of scalloped card from atop the box. I’m in love with you. Forgive me for not having the courage to tell you in person. 

Your Aaron is quiet. Some days he comes home from work and doesn’t manage more than a sentence. Some days he can barely speak at all. But there are nights when he holds you to hold you and talks in murmurs against your ear, and he’s good at making calls when he’s away. Talking or not, smiling or otherwise, Aaron finds a way to let you know he loves you, and that’s all you care about. 

“Excuse us,” Aaron says, giving Clint a rare, warm smile, “I’m being flagged by my boss.” 

Sure enough, Erin Strauss is beckoning Aaron with a strange pained look.

“Nice to meet you,” you say quickly to Clint. He repeats your goodbye, and you and Aaron swerve around him. 

“He was nice,” you murmur. 

“Yeah, he’s okay.”

“How come you fell out of touch?” 

“Oh, you know how things go, honey, you forget all the people you meet and make room for new ones.” He kisses your cheek. “And besides, he used to gossip like my mother. Why don’t you go find JJ?” 

“You’ll be alright?” 

“No, maybe not.” He squeezes your elbow quickly. “Go, find some hors d’oeuvres, at least.”

You find neither JJ nor finger foods. The gala you’re attending is being held in a hotel in the richest part of D.C, and the events hall is huge. The ceiling is a fantasy, glass and miles upward, overhead chandeliers dangling lower, dousing the crowds below in a light that’s clean. The rich and powerful gather at the edges of the room, though the performance toward the back of the room is watched by a few tens of couples with flutes of champagne held in gloved hands. 

You hadn’t worn gloves. Hadn’t thought about it until you got here. Honestly, you felt grateful enough that JJ texted you to tell you to buy a shawl; if you weren’t wearing one you’re sure you’d feel bare. 

What you’re lacking in fancy is made up for by your earnestness, or so you’d like to believe. You aren’t rich nor powerful, but Aaron’s a good man and you his good wife. You work hard, which is more than some of the richest in the room can say. You hold your head high without a second thought. 

The hall is confusing. Tables are set but you aren’t sure Aaron said anything about a dinner service. Wait staff carry silver platters and hold bottles of champagne, but each time you approach one they seem to have already headed in another direction. JJ and Derek are both supposed to be here tonight, but you haven’t seen either of them since you arrived. You cast your gaze for Derek’s figure, searching for an easy gait and a strong set of shoulders. You cock your head waiting for a hint of JJ’s practised, polite laughter, but any familiar signs are gone. You can’t even find Aaron anymore, and your shoes are pinching your toes.

Disaster. You should’ve listened to Aaron when he told you to size up, just you doubted his knowledge of ladies shoes considering how rarely he wears them. Stupid man, you think to yourself, lovingly yet ruefully as you sit down at one of the uninhabited tables to the very side of the room. Knows everything. Tonight, you’ll limp back to the car and he won’t bother saying I told you so, he’s too good for it, which is worse. He’ll give you one of his amused smiles. He might offer you a massage. 

Ridiculous man, you further to yourself, biting back a cheesy smile as you peel your shoe from a sore foot. If you shove your hand deep enough into the toe you can stretch them out a little. 

“Darling.” 

You look up. Clint McMoore’s resurfaced just a table away with his back to you. A sweet-faced woman with brown hair sits adjacent to him, her shoulder under Clint’s hand. 

“You’ll never guess who I just bumped into,” he says. 

Me, you think. 

“Aaron Hotchner and his new wife.” 

“You didn’t,” the woman says. 

“I knew you’d be envious of that,” he laughs. “Charlotte, she’s unbelievable.” 

Your stomach does a strange flip. He’ll say something nice, you insist, but you know his tone is a precursor for gossipy nonsense. 

“I’ve never seen such a mismatched pair,” he says. 

Charlotte rolls her eyes at him. “Well, what were you expecting? They were married after six months of knowing one another. I couldn’t so much as tolerate you until our first anniversary.” 

“Hardy-har.” 

“What’s wrong with her, then?” Charlotte asks. 

“Nothing like that, Charlotte. She seemed perfectly pleasant–”

“But?” 

“But, she’s nothing like Aaron’s usual woman.” 

“Hm, I said as much when we saw their wedding photos.“ They both laugh. “It’s not like she had much of a chance. First Haley, and then that Beth, the designer, she’s in Milan now–”

“He seems rather besotted, in any case,” Clint says. “Very lady and the tramp.” 

“Gentleman and the tramp.” 

“Don’t be cruel, Charlotte.” 

You know in a way that Charlotte is kidding, but you boil up with anger the moment you recognise what it is they’re implying. Then they laugh, and your anger quickly finds itself taking a crueller shape. 

You slip your foot back into your shoe slowly. Your throat feels dry and then warm, like a crux of smouldering coal stuck in your windpipe as you stand, jerkily, hand stiff where it holds your weight on a silken tablecloth. 

You blink and stare at the floor. It’s marble. It’s shot through with dark veins like a drop of ichor in water. 

What the fuck? 

You aren’t sure why you’re leaving the hall until you’re walking down the steps of the hotel and turning along the skirts of a hedge. A low brick wall lies in front of it, just short enough to sit on with your heels. Your coccyx stings with the force of how hard you go down. 

Your head races with hurt feelings. 

You’re not unaware of your husband’s past loves. It comes as no surprise to you that people regard Haley and Beth highly —Haley was extremely beautiful and veritably brave, intelligent, kind-hearted. Beth was funny, Aaron said, and not too much else. Being a designer in Milan hasn’t been mentioned before, but it’s impressive. They’re both impressive, and– and his usual woman. 

You rub the starchy stockings stretched over your knees. 

What had they meant by usual woman?

Mismatched? 

It hadn’t felt mismatched when Aaron asked you to marry him. It wasn’t six months after knowing one another as Clint’s wife suggested, but it wasn’t much more than that. He proposed to you after eight months together, and you were married two months later, which is incredibly fast to some people but it just hadn't felt fast when he asked. It was exciting —it still is. 

“Would you marry me, if I asked you to?” he’d said, some seven months after you’d agreed to be his girlfriend. Your head in his lap, his fingers rubbing at the soft skin of your nape. A sleepy Sunday morning like any other, you suppose that was a proposal in itself, but you hadn’t realised that when you murmured, “Yeah, handsome. I would.” 

You thought it was just love. Making innocuous comments about the future is part of falling in love. It’s terrifying to tell someone that you’d like to live life in their lap, but you tell them, and they tell you to go ahead if you’re lucky. 

He asked you to get married a few weeks later. “I had to talk to Jack,” he explained, “or I would’ve asked you then and there.“

You’re a wife suddenly, a step-mother, a partner. Aaron would’ve sold the house and bought you a new one if you wanted him to, but you like his life. You’ve always felt like you fit right in. 

Angry again, you scrub at your knees with itchy palms and practise how you’re going to tell Aaron about his cruel friend. Gossipy was right, what a lark, and you’re not perfectly pleasant, you’re a delight, you hadn’t said one bad word to Clint and you didn’t deserve to be whipped and twisted into a bad joke between sips of Cristal. 

Your eyes burn with the injustice of the thing. 

Rawness overtakes. A thudding in your chest turns painful, neck wrought with tightness as you hang your head. Hiding from the cold air. November brings with it a promise of chapped lips the longer you stay there, biting into your thighs as your hands turn stiff with disuse. 

She was unbelievable. 

“Y/N!” The shout is sharp. You’ve never heard Aaron’s voice at that level or with that level of formidability, carrying from the bottom of the hotel stairs. You twist in shock on the wall and watch in real time as his face fills with relief. “Honey,” he says, calling but not half as scary as he jogs to you, “are you alright?” 

“What?” 

“You scared me,” he insists, bending down to hold your shoulders. “Nobody’s seen you for the last fifteen minutes, sweetheart, we talked about this. You can’t just disappear, you left your purse on the table, I thought something happened to you.” 

You startle at his scolding. “I–”

“You should feel my heart.” 

“I didn’t mean to come out here.” 

“I wish you would’ve let somebody know,” he says. His frown softens slowly, but the concern around his eyes remains. “What?” he asks. 

“Sorry.” 

His eyes finally soften. “No, I’m sorry. It’s alright, I just worry when you’re not with me.” 

“That’s romantic.” 

He holds your cheek, pulling you in, and gives you two gentle kisses. Your lips part instinctively to receive them. “We’ll get our things and go home. It looks as though dinner isn’t happening.” He smiles. “Why were you out here?” 

“Scavenging for food.” 

That gets a laugh out of him, and another nice kiss. “You tried your best.” 

—

Aaron takes you home, and when dinner’s been cleared away, when you’ve showered and he’s undressed, he pulls you toward the bed and kisses you warmly. His eyes track from your face to the tucked corner of your towel, a silent Can I?

You let him take it off. He lays you out, and for a while you’re only his. His wife, his half, his to tease and turn and delight. He says “Beautiful,” against your thigh, says, “Honey, is that okay?” says, “Please, I’ve got it, I have you, just let me have you…” 

After, he tells you he loves you, his voice still ever so slightly high in contrast to usual dulcet tones. 

“I love you, too,” you say. 

His breath comes fast. Your lap is a mess he’d wiped as clean as he could manage, the memory of him bearing down on you yet to fade. He lies on his stomach beside you with his arm over yours, his face turned into you, his nose on your cheek. 

“Are you alright?” he asks softly. “You feel tense.”

“Mm.” 

“No, did I hurt you? You’re rigid.” His hands fret a line down the side of your chest. “You didn’t…” 

You hadn’t said anything, because he really hadn’t hurt you. But the thoughts you’re having now are intrusive —am I okay? you think. Do I measure up? He’s never made any indication that you’ve let him down, not in sex or anything else, but you’re unbelievable. 

You swallow a lump. “Sorry,” you say, the lingering ebbs of pleasure twisting into tears faster than you can stop it. 

“Are you crying?” he asks under his breath. 

You suck in a breath as he pushes onto his hands. 

“These aren’t good tears,” he says. 

He’d know. They’re not. 

Aaron reaches over you to turn on the lamp on the nightstand before settling, his hand cupping your waist. It’s too much suddenly, too bare, he’s too much to look at as you squeeze your eyes closed. “Sorry,” you squeeze out. 

“What did I do?” he asks, holding you carefully. “Please, sweetheart, what’s hurting? I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s not you.” 

“But something does hurt?” 

“No, no, I’m okay.” You cover your face with your hands. When you start to sob, it shakes the entire mattress, Aaron’s hand wobbling where it cups your ribs. 

“Please.” His thumb works a soft spot into your skin. “Honey, please, you can’t cry now without telling me what’s wrong.” He tries a laugh, but it falls flat. “Honey. Honey.” 

It wasn’t the sex. He never does anything wrong, he’s so gentle even when he isn’t, and if he did you’d only have to tell him, but the rush of being touched by him so nicely, fuck, the way he’d been looking at you, the way he took your face into his hand as he moved —you’re not trying to be a crier, but he makes you feel like you’re everything and you’re just not. 

He looks sick. 

“It wasn’t you, it was at the gala,” you manage. 

For a long while after, you can’t get a word out. You shiver and sob as Aaron scoops you into his chest, his nose in your shoulder waiting for you to calm down. He rubs your waist, fingers parted and waving slowly as he shushes you. Not to make you stop, though. He’s reassuring. 

“What happened at the gala?” he asks quietly. 

“It’s so stupid.” 

“No, it’s alright. Can you tell me what happened? Did someone hurt you?” 

You wrap your arms around his head. It really is stupid, you feel smaller than an ant under the shadow of a giant heel. Aaron doesn’t waver when you struggle to answer, feeling around behind you for a pillow and helping you against it. He kisses your forehead. “Let me get you something to wear.” 

You catch his wrist. “It wasn’t you, wasn’t–” You lift your chin. 

He kisses you. “Okay,” he says simply. “Let’s get dressed.” 

He dresses quickly, bringing you underwear and one of your sleep shirts, a loose fit. You shuffle into them and watch him patiently as he cleans the small mess of the evening away. You’re sniffling softly when he returns to you, sitting with his back to your thighs. 

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry if I read things wrong. I never would’ve initiated anything if I knew you were feeling like this.” 

You laugh weakly, worriedly, looking at him through your lashes. “It made me feel better,” you admit.

“If this is better, you must’ve been feeling awful.” 

You relax as he puts his hand on your thigh. 

“In the time I left you to talk to Strauss, something upset you. JJ and Morgan didn’t see you. So someone in the gala said something or did something that made you leave. If you tell me who it was, I can make sure it doesn’t happen again.” 

“You’re trying to bargain with me,” you mumble. 

“I’m just telling you what can be done. I can take care of things.” 

“It’s nothing… nothing so severe. You’ll wonder why I–” You give an unexpected sob. “Made all this fuss.” 

“I don’t think I’ll wonder,” he says. 

You laugh through tears. These ones are slow, your eyes already itchy from crying. 

“Please tell me.” He tries teasing instead of sternness, lowering his face to yours. “Or I’ll cry too.” 

“Aaron.” 

“I will. You think I can’t, but seeing you crying like this, it’s more than enough ammunition.” 

You let out a breath, admitting defeat. “Your friend, Clint? I overheard him with his wife. He didn’t have very nice things to say about me.” 

“What could he possibly have to say?” Aaron asks with a frown. 

You pull the sheets up your legs. “He said I’m… unbelievable, and I don’t think he meant it kindly. Said that I’m not your type, and that I… I had no chance of measuring up, because of who you’ve been with before. They were laughing about our wedding photos.” Your throat feels pressed into by a hot poker. “They said we were the gentleman and the tramp.” 

His eyes squint. He looks disgusted, and for an uncomfortable moment you feel like it might be directed at you, but then he scoffs. “What a crock of shit.” 

“Aaron!” you laugh. 

“What could Clint McMoore possibly know about marriage? This is his fourth wife. And to imply that you’re any sort of calibre below the women I’ve dated before isn’t just misogynistic nonsense, it’s not true. You are the most beautiful women I’ve ever met, and what’s that supposed to mean, gentlemen and the tramp?” He gives you such an earnest glare of confusion that you can’t for a second doubt what it is he’s saying. “I’m sorry, honey, I think he’s allowed himself a few too many nightcaps over the years. Perhaps he’s suffered a stroke.” 

“Aaron, don’t say that,” you chide, secretly very pleased. 

“Our wedding photos,” he says, his hand drifting further down your leg to rest just shy of somewhere more intimate, “are beautiful. You look beautiful. Clint would’ve writhed in jealousy in the pews if he’d been invited, because he would’ve seen it for himself.” 

“I just sat there while they laughed at me,” you mumble.

“What were you supposed to do?” His hand travels out, to your hip, and then he holds you by the waist with both of his hands. They have a way of making you feel encapsulated, big and strong and careful on the bump of your hips. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Nothing,” he says, meeting your eyes with his usual tender-hearted compassion. “You weren’t supposed to do or say anything.” Aaron appears younger than he is for a second, his eyebrows raised, eyes big and brown as they track over your lips. “Honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise he was like that. I’m sorry you had to hear that.” 

“I guess I’m just worried he’s right.” 

“He’s not right. You are everything to me.” Again, he puts weight on the word, roughly said, like it takes a lot from him to say it. “I’m lucky to have been with women who were beautiful, and intelligent, but if there’s a question of you measuring up, there’s no competition. I’ve never been this in love.” 

You take a shaky breath. “Never?” you ask. 

He holds your gaze. “I knew it when we met. That's why I couldn’t wait to ask you to marry me.” 

“You said you weren’t getting any younger.” 

“Well, I’m not, but not everything’s about my age, you know,” he says, giving your waist a playful squeeze. 

”You said it.” 

“I did. That felt easier to say than, if I don’t marry you soon I might implode,” —he shuffles forward, encroaching on your legs and pressing his lips to your cheek— “would’ve just,” —he kisses your cheek, before turning your head— “wasted all that time waiting for someone else’s idea of the right time,” —and he kisses the other cheek, his nose skirting up your face— “wishing I was your husband when I could just,” —he smiles into your eyebrow as his hand slips under your shirt, holding your bare back— “ask.” 

“I’m glad you asked me.” 

You’d cried then, too, but it was less to do with a rush of adrenaline that knocked you out of balance and more to do with how lovingly he’d taken your hand as he asked. You knew from that moment on that someone was going to take care of you for the rest of your life. He’s doing it right now. 

“I love you,” you say, forcing your arms over his shoulders. 

He pulls you in so much that you lift from the mattress. 

“I love you. Are you sure it wasn’t me that upset you? I have to check.” 

“No. What you did to me wasn’t particularly upsetting.” 

He laughs. “Are you sure? You can look a little teary–”

You shush him quickly.

He tips your head to the side to kiss your ear. “Maybe next time, you can tell me about whatever upset you beforehand.” 

“And you can make me feel even better.”

His laugh is nearly inaudible, but his lips are by the side of your head. You hear it, the warmth of his breath kissing the shell of your ear. 

—

Aaron likes to see you in your sweatpants. You look nice in everything, especially your dresses for the evening events he often drags you to, but he likes it when you wear sweatpants because it opens a window. You’ve purchased the wrong size, too big and too long, but you’ve tied them at the waist and you make do. You’re wearing the big shirt he helped you into the night before, sitting on the couch with your ferried breakfast. 

The night before has been washed away, no sign of tears or upset. You have a clean, bright face, one he’d quite like to kiss, or hold, or have pressed to his neck, but none of this is unusual. Your eyes look sore, if he really looks. He’ll make you a compress after breakfast. 

Dropped off by Jess an hour ago, Jack sits beside you picking at the breakfast tray. You’re sharing a plate. You don’t ever mind. 

“Are you eating that one?” you ask. 

Jack immediately nudges half of a chocolate chip pancake your way. “Was the gala fun?” 

“Uh, sure. Saw your dad’s friends. But they had a weird thing with the caterers and we had to get dinner on the way home.”

“You could’ve made dad cook.” 

“I guess, but we were tired. What did you have for dinner?” 

“Jess made spicy chicken. It was amazing.” Jack squints at you. “Your eyes are puffy, Y/N. Are you sick?” 

“I think I might be a little. Not enough to make you sick too, don’t worry.” 

Aaron piles the last of the pancakes onto a plate and carries them to you in the living room. “Here, you two.” 

“Did you eat?” you ask. 

He loves you, bending over to kiss your forehead right in the middle. “Yes.” 

“How come they didn’t have dinner at the gala, dad? I thought that was the whole point,” Jack says. 

He sits down next to Jack on the couch. You cut a big square of pancake and grin at him, seemingly pleased with your breakfast and Jack’s sense of humour. 

“It was a disaster, that’s all. No food, barely any wine, and terrible, awful company.” 

“I thought Miss Jareau went?” 

“She did. But besides her and a handful of others, it was a party for sad old people.” 

“And you didn’t have fun?” Jack asks. 

You laugh so hard tears gather in the corners of your eyes. Aaron cups Jack’s shoulder, surprised when his son doesn’t duck away from the touch. The older he gets the less affection he requires, so it’s nice for Aaron to hug him sideways and be allowed, better that you finish your choking laugh with a hug of your own. “Jack, thank you for that. I think you cured whatever illness I had,” you say.  

“Hey,” Aaron says. 

You run your hand up his neck. Your wedding ring catches against his jaw. 

“It was worth going, though, to see your step-mom in her nice dress,” Aaron says, peeling away from Jack so he has room to breathe. 

Jack turns to you, and his smile is audible, “Do you have any pictures?” 

“I didn’t take any, sorry.” 

“Just think of her now but in a dress, and that’s how beautiful she looked,” Aaron says. 

“Dad, don’t be gross,” Jack says, cutting into the pancakes with his fork.

“It’s not gross, it’s just a fact.” Jack drops pancake down his front. Warm chocolate chips stain his t-shirt. “Missed your mouth, bud. I’ll get a rag.” 

He’s up as quickly as he sat down, running his fingers along your arm and to the palm of your hand, touching you until he can’t. He heads back into the kitchen. His phone is beeping on the table, screen flashing with each new text. 

Penelope: boss, I think the thing you asked for is illegal 

Penelope: also, I assume you were kidding? 

Penelope: so while making it that every link on McMoore’s computer freezes the desktop would’ve been very very funny, I didn’t do that 

Aaron had been kidding, emphatically, because illegal activities aren’t his style. It was a sarcastic suggestion, and yet he’s disappointed nonetheless. 

Penelope: I just signed him up for a bunch of recovering narcissists forums and an email subscription for self help, and maybe also a free online class about manners and etiquette 

Penelope: And I ordered that big canvas for you. It was the one of you guys cutting the cake, right? 

Aaron texts her back quickly: Thank you, Penelope. I couldn’t work out the dimensions online. 

Penelope: You’re welcome! I live to serve :D 

The canvas will look good in the entryway, Aaron believes. Somewhere you can see it, and remember exactly what it is he thinks of you; his eyes glowing with love where he’d been staring at your face, his hand guided yours atop the knife as he traced your features, and you cut that first, fat slice of cake. 

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thanks so much for reading! please think about commenting, liking or reblogging if you enjoyed I love knowing what you think!❤️

also small note: this fic is in no way meant to diminish haley im a haley supporter usually (these days at least!) and I just didn’t mention her for brevity’s sake

[catboybiologist]

Yay I'm going to get all Political and angry again.

So pretty much every trans American is probably aware of the Sarah McBride situation at this point, but here's the bullet point summary if needed for anyone else:

Sarah McBride gets elected to the House as the first transgender member of Congress in US history.

Republicans predictably flip their shit. They pass internal rules of conduct that prohibit trans people from using bathrooms of their gender and stating that bathroom use is defined by AGAB. It obviously singles out McBride, but I believe there are trans staffers that are also affected.

McBride issues a statement that she will abide by these rules, and pretty much only use the bathroom directly associated with her physical office. She issues a statement saying she "wasn't elected for bathrooms" and will instead fight in issues that matter, with a milquetoast criticism of Republicans for wasting time on this.

Many trans Americans are predictably scared and disappointed by this, especially because this internal house rule is being used as a blueprint for more extensive laws, including a likely ban on trans people in gendered bathrooms in all federal land and buildings (including, notably for me, national parks. Which breaks my heart, but that's a different rant.)

There's been a lot of disappointment and criticism of McBride over this. The general leftist reaction has been criticism. There's lots of people that have expressed disappointment or rage, including Erin Reed, and also more "personality" type people like Vaush and Jessie Gender.

Now.

I'm disappointed too.

But. And please keep reading before chewing me out for being an apologist.

I think we can all understand that McBride is in an impossible situation. If she fights this too hard, then it vindicates the Republican rhetoric that Dems are crazy trans obsessed leftists. But there's a fear that this will only lead to more infringements of rights for trans people. McBride is completely stuck, and is a junior, freshly elected member of Congress who is trying to figure out how to make her voice the most effective.

I am so, so fucking tired of rights being ceded one by one. So I'm disappointed. But yeah, I understand McBride's statement.

But there's just one tiny. Eeny weeny. Minor. Itty Bitty question having over all of this. Just one little concern.

Where.

The fuck.

Are the rest of the Democrats?!?!?!?

There is a PAINFULLY fucking easy solution to all of this. McBride needs backing, solidarity, and other people to speak for her. If she's worried about her voice being effective, and being branded as the crazy trans representative, then step the fucking up, you spineless liberal slimebags.

AOC is the only one that I know of that has expressed any real opposition or anger. Her statements are getting aaallll the airtime.

But the real story is McBride's sentiment being echoed amongst the entire party. This is absolutely some kind of official platform. The fucking grumbling, milquetoast finger waving and "well I don't like this, but there's nothing to be done! Anyways"

Of fucking course minorites are abandoning the left. The message they're sending is "we'll abandon you with the most pathetic of excuses. We don't give a shit." Trimming groups out of their support one by one.

McBride is doing the impossible calculus of trying to be the most effective on the house floor. It's an insane task for a trans woman. And yeah, she got it wrong this time. But where the fuck is the anger for her cis colleagues? Why the fuck aren't people angry and terrified for everyone that let this shit happen?

As much as people love the narrative of the line wolf resistor, resistance takes coordination, effort, and solidarity. Without that, what would McBride raising opposition even be? One representative against the hundreds of others.

And yeah, of course I didn't expect any better from the Democratic party. But you should be disappointed and mad at your representative, not just McBride.

[papaya-twinks]

big sister - l.n

Warnings: Smut, 18+

Pairing: Lando Norris x babysitter!fem!reader

Summary: Y/N looks after Lando’s kid for the weekend, and she gets paid very very well afterwards.

A/N: Don’t worry, contradictory to the title, this is not incestuous

So I’ve actually had this in my drafts since I made this blog and I didn’t wanna release it coz I thought it was too freaky and I only just found it again hehe

You were more than happy to sit for Lando again, he’d hired you almost a year ago to look after his darling daughter, Erin. She was an angel, really, and you needed the extra cash.

“Erin, love, do you want to eat something?” you said, popping your hand into the living room. The little girl shook her head, babbling incoherently as you smiled. You were wearing nothing but a satin top and panties, the Singapore heat was astonishing.

It was crazy how people managed it. Lando was supposed to be home by 8pm, you looked at the clock, it was 7:12pm right now. You turned back to the girl, she had a little cooking set laid out on the floor, little plastic foods being gently laid into pans.

How you would have loved to be a kid again. Suddenly, the door opened, making you turn your head. “Hi bubs,” Lando said, planting a gentle kiss on his daughter’s forehead. “Hey Y/N,” he nodded to you, you noticed his voice dropped an octave as he addressed you.

“You’re early,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “Don’t worry, you’ll get your full payment,” he joked, making you laugh “but, can you do tomorrow too?” he said. He had only asked for today, and your hotel being an hour away from here didn’t help. “My hotel’s really far, can you get someone else?” you said apologetically.

“Yes but, c’mon, no one’s as good as you are. Or pretty, and you can stay upstairs,” Lando said pleadingly. But you didn’t miss what he said. Pretty? “Fine,” you rolled your eyes playfully. He nodded thankfully as he lifted Erin up. “Bed time, princess,” he said, as she cuddled against his chest.

You made to go to the guest room (where you’d stayed times before) but he shook his head. “Let’s watch something,” he smiled. You nodded, sitting on the sofa as you waited for him.

The heat was getting for you, so you undid the top three buttons of your shirt, slouching down as Lando reappeared. He was wearing an incredibly see through white tank top that showed off his abs and a pair of simple black shorts. Three metal chains dangled off his neck as he shook his curls gently.

“Sooooooo, anything in mind,” he said, lips parting slightly as his eyes bore in you. You shook your head, allowing him to be in control. Fuck, that sounded so wrong. His eyes went back to the screen as he settled on an old F1 race. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t notice his eyes roving over your body, especially lingering on your slightly exposed chest.

Fuck it, you only live once. Taking the risk, you flexed your arms back, the shirt showing more of your cleavage. “I’ll get some wine or shit,” Lando muttered, cheeks flushed. He came back with two glasses, pouring the red liquid out for you as he did the same for himself. You sipped gently at the liquid, swirling it around.

“Nice top,” Lando said, turning to you, “so, was Erin good for you?”. You shrugged, “she always is,”. He smiled. “Just like you, hm?” his eyes darkened. “Lando…” you immediately understood the sexual connotations behind his words. 

“Don’t think you can just practically strip like that,” he said, running his hand through his hair, his arm flexing. “Take what you want, Y/N, I’m not gonna give it to you,” he narrowed his eyes. A new kind of confidence seemed to overtake as you crawled onto him, a small patch of wetness dragging along his thigh.

“Already? I haven’t touched you,” he raised his eyebrows. You blushed but he nudged your hand towards the waistband of his pants. Fuck. You pulled his boxers down as well, his cock springing up, hard and leaking. Double fuck. How was it supposed to fit?! Lando seemed to have read your mind as he chuckled.

“Don’t worry, beautiful,” he said, voice deep as he lifted your hips. He gently lowered you, small, quiet whimpers escaping your lips as he wriggled slightly. “So tight, shit,” he muttered. After you) adjusted, he let you bounce gently, his big fingers undoing the buttons of your top as your tits bounced. 

“Lando…” you whined, nails sinking into his shoulders as you quickened your pace. His hands clamped around you waist, holding you firm and still as he bucked his hips up. He quickened his pace, your eyes rolling back as he covered your mouth.

“Erin’s asleep,” he whispered. A few pounds later, you felt the knot in your stomach unravel. “Daddy!” you cried out, your cum spilling and mixing with his. You both panted, before Lando’s lips locked onto yours. “Night, love,” he whispered. 

The next morning, you sat at the breakfast bar, the feelings of last night still in your mind, eating the freshly cut green apple. Lando wasn’t showing much feeling, a smile permanently on his face however, small kissed on your cheeks, nose, forehead and lips interrupting his pancake making.

“Hello sissy,” Erin babbled, walking in as she smiled. “Sissy?” you frowned, confused. “Yeah,” she nodded, just as confused as you. “Why’s that, bubs?” Lando said, puzzled. “Because I heard you last night, when you called him your daddy!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together excitedly.

Lando burst into laughter as the colour drained from your face. This girl was permanently SCARRED. 

[bonefall]

"How big should a Clan territory be?"

For the dozens of people who have asked this over the last couple of years!

This question comes in a lot of forms; "How big are the Clan territories?" "How much space does one Clan need?" "How much land should I give my Clans to exist in?" The answer is a bit complicated, and depends on the type of land, what you're going for exactly, the setting, so on.

But, broadly, there's TWO particular factors at play here; How anthropomorphic you're portraying your warriors, and how productive the land is.

Factor 1: The Anthro Scale

I'm starting with this one because it could you the simpler answer. The Erins write Clan cats like humans in cat bodies, with massive social units and communal living. Realistic feral cats don't act like Clan cats. They are only semi-social, due to domestication.

See, a Clan cat will "share" territory between all of its members, and some Clans have canonically hit populations of over 50 individuals. Real feral colonies consist of "overlapping circles" of somewhere between 2 - 15 cats, most of them related females.

This is relevant because, even in densely populated areas with as much food as they can eat, truly feral colonies will have about 2 cats per 5 acres, capping out at about 15 members. Queens will hang out together and raise their kittens communally, but they will hunt and patrol in their own "circle." These boundaries are violently enforced against outside cats, especially if it's too crowded.

(Toms have circles 5x as big as a queen's, overlapping several territories. They're also considerably less social.)

So, if you wanted to incorporate some cat behavior into your Clan's mindset about how big their territory should be, while still being willing to sacrifice a bit of "realism" for groups over 15-ish members, simply take Clan population and multiply it by 2.5 acres.

30 cats = 75 acres. That's a little under 57 football fields, if you're American, or 50 football fields, if you're European.

Extra reading: How realistic cat territories work. Contains the numbers I'm referencing.

It's also very important to know; feral cat density is completely tied to food availability, the big numbers numbers are for cats whose needs are met. Cats are solitary hunters, and when they feel like they have to work for their food, they become VERY territorial. The density of cats in rural areas can be as low as 1 molly per 15 acres, even lower for toms, and they will leave if hunting is not easy.

THIS IS WHY YOU SHOULD NOT FEED FERAL CATS. Please GOD they are SO invasive, please do not give colonies food, they still hunt when they're full so you just end up concentrating a ton of predators in one place. They are not warriors with a law against disrespecting food, they are just kitty cats with silly kitty instincts

I have a suspicion that most of the people who are asking the question aren't really looking for a "realistic cat" answer, though. We LOVE our big cat Clans with their complicated politics around here. You're probably wondering how much land you need to feed your population!

Factor 2: Land Productivity

The exact amount of space is going to vary a lot, because it's more about productivity of the land to sustain a prey population than it is raw size. Remember what we learned back in Warrior Bites: Dietary Needs; a 30-cat Clan will need approximately 3 pounds of meat (10,500 calories) per day, which is about 2 rabbits, or 105 mice.

Here's some visual examples of what I mean. This one (1) acre homestead...

Has 20 patches of high-value crops, plus an orchard, AND livestock pens. This territory alone could attract enough crows, mice, rats, rabbits, and sparrows to feed all those cats daily. That's not even counting the humans themselves, who may be friendly enough to the colony to toss them kibble occasionally.

(this is why cats domesticated themselves. Even without the free food from the humans, farms are extremely productive hunting grounds.)

Meanwhile, the Edmonton Mall, which is a whopping five (5) acres...

Would be utterly barren. Best food you're going to get out of this wasteland is the leftovers humans toss out, and maybe the rats and pigeons that scavenge as well. It's 5x the space, and yet, infinitely harder to feed the same amount of cats.

So, the most helpful bit of advice I'm gonna give you is this; DON'T ask yourself "how big should this territory be?" You're starting with the wrong question. Start with a real location, and think about how you'd find 3 pounds of meat a day in that area.

It will be a LOT easier to think about the logistics in those terms, and this will lead you to the waaay more productive (and fun) worldbuilding questions. Such as;

"Where would the good hunting spots be?"

"What kinds of animals would they be eating? What sorts of beasts can threaten them, here?"

"How many of these animals would my 30 cat Clan need to hunt a day to equal about 3 pounds?"

"Where would these animals be getting THEIR food?"

"Is there enough habitat in the area for the prey to breed and nest? If not, is there more land beyond the territory that the prey is coming from?"

"Where would infrastructure like dens, walls, and dirtplaces go? What would these be made of?"

"Are there any neat spots for the cats to casually hang out on?"

"What would make for a super cool arena for my climactic narrative boss fights?"

"Does this area have unique stage hazards that my cats would have to learn to deal with?"

"Which sorts of plants and herbs would they encounter?"

If your Clan is tool-using, like BB!Clans are, then you can ask even more advanced questions. Like, where you'd find kindle for fire, what objects you can use as crafting materials, and what might make for unique trade goods.

Think about other things related to your Clan's biome-- in a tundra or desert, there will be less for prey to eat, so the territory will be large to cope with the low density. If there's a major body of water, they might have a constant supply of aquatic prey from upstream. Hunting grounds might change based on the seasons.

Also remember not to underestimate how fast small animals breed, and how many of them there can be in one area. Even using low estimates, 1 female mouse has 6 pups, 7 x 6 = 42, 42 x 6 = 252, 252 x 6 = 1,452. It takes only 4 months for mouse population growth to get exponentially ridiculous.

Finally, remember that prey can vary. A well run Clan would be able to generally understand when they've been overhunting one particular species, and start shifting gears to lift the "pressure" off that population.

(In my cultural expansions series, this management task is assigned to one of the new roles-- the Head of Hunting.)

[alotofpockets]

Our kids | Katie McCabe x Reader

Where a miscommunication leads to no one being able to watch your kids while you'll be at work and Katie is about to head to camp

A/n: thank you @totaly-obsessed for your help with this one!

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.5k

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You were enjoying a peaceful evening at home with your wife, Katie. Your kids were spending the night at your parents’ house, giving you a rare opportunity for some one-on- one time, which you desperately needed before Katie would leave for camp in two weeks.

Though you adored your kids and the little family you had built, the constant energy of four kids could be overwhelming. There were Evan and Avery, your children from before you met Katie, and Erin and Riley, the children you and Katie had together.

Raising Evan and Avery on your own with the help of your parents had been challenging, but you had mastered the life of a single mom and thoroughly enjoyed being a mom. When you met Katie, it felt like a new world opened up for you. She was the loving, caring, and supportive partner and parent you had always dreamed of starting a family with.

While the quietness of the evening was nice, it was to no surprise that the quietness got interrupted. Your phone rang loudly throughout the room, you picked up right away when you noticed that it was your mom. “Hi love, don't worry, the kids are alright.” Her instant reassurance was something you deeply appreciated.

“Hi mom, that's great to hear. Having fun with the kids?” Your mom tells you a little bit about their evening and that the four of them are currently watching a movie with your dad. “The reason for my call is because I wanted to check something. The kids were talking about going to Ireland for one of Katie’s games next month, and I wanted to check with you if that meant Katie would be going into camp soon.”

“Yeah, Katie is leaving for camp in two weeks.” You answer, not yet aware of the reason that needed a call. “Alright, I don’t want to assume anything, love, but your father and I will be out of town the same two weeks that Katie will be in camp. Maybe you have made other arrangements, I just wanted to check, cause usually we help you out with the kids when Katie is away.” 

You listen to your mom talk with widened eyes, had you not spoken with your parents about this trip? You could’ve sworn you had, but you had been so busy with work that you might just think you had done it already. “Eh mom, can I call you back?” The new information got you stressed instantly, and you wanted to figure it out and not make it your parent’s problem.

“What’s wrong?” Katie asks, curious what got you so shocked. “Babe, I forgot to ask my parents to help me with the kids when you’re in camp, and I totally forgot they are going to be out of town for the duration of it.” Before Katie could jump in, you continued. “I can make it work. I raised two kids on my own, I can handle four for a couple of weeks.”

That’s the moment Katie feels like she has to step in. “Darling, while I have no doubt that you could handle all four, you don’t have to. You’re not on your own anymore, we can figure something out together.” 

“Sorry, sometimes I forget I don’t have to do it all alone anymore.” Katie smiled and took your hands in hers. “It’s okay, I understand. But remember that just because I am away on camp, doesn’t mean those aren’t my kids anymore. You will always have me, and so will they.” 

Once you calmed down a little, Katie grabbed her phone. “I have an idea, let me make a call to see if it is an option. I will be right back, okay? No stressing in the meantime!” She pecks your cheek and moves into the kitchen to make the call.

“Alright, I called Eileen, and my idea is definitely an option. I can take the kids with me to camp, that way you won’t have to worry about finding someone to watch them when you’re at work. Russel is bringing her kiddo with her, so they already arranged for childcare, and they said it wouldn’t be a problem to add a couple more kids to that. What do you think?”

You let the plan settle in your mind for a moment, thinking of the logistics. “Okay that could work. So then Evan, Avery, and I will meet you, Erin, and Riley in Dublin the day we’d all come to Ireland?”

Katie looks at you with a face full of confusion. “What? No, I meant taking all of them. Did I say something that made it seem like I would only bring half the kids?” You thought for a moment. She hadn’t, but you had just assumed she’d only take the youngest two. “I don’t know, but are you sure about taking Evan and Avery as well?”

Your wife had dealt with a fair share of your trauma surrounding being left with your kids from your previous partner, so she had a feeling what was happening in your mind right now. “Darling, I am very sure. Evan and Avery are as much my kids as Erin and Riley are. When I talk about the kids, I always mean all four of them.” Katie looked your face over and knew exactly what her next move would be. 

“I mean they even look like me, no? Same smiles and everything!” Her words painted a smile on your face. “Ha, very funny.” Katie wiggles her eyebrows, “Must be if you’re laughing!” Your face turns back to serious. “I love you. Thank you for being the best mom to our kids, and the best partner to me.” Your wife leans in to kiss you. “You are the best mom though.”

You laid back into Katie’s arms on the couch as you called back your mom to tell them your plans, with the request that she wouldn’t tell the kids. You wanted to tell them yourselves.

“I’m really looking forward to this camp.” Katie said after you hung up the phone. “I can’t wait to take the kids along and show them more of the behind the scenes. I think they will love it.” You nod in agreement, “I think they will too. They always love visiting you at Arsenal, I think they will have a great time seeing you at Ireland camp.”

“Plus, it will also be nice to have some time to myself as well. You know I love our kids more than anything, but since I’ll be working ahead with work to be able to take a few days off to visit you, it will be nice to come home to a quiet house and recharge. Not having to worry about who will watch the kids, is already making me feel more relaxed.” Katie hugged you a little closer. “You deserve it, darling. We are a team, and we’ll always find a way to make things work together.”

As you had expected, the kids were having the time of their lives at camp. Katie sent you videos and pictures any chance she got, and every night before bed, you would video call with all of them. 

The days flew by, and before you knew it, you were on your way to Ireland yourself. You took a taxi from the airport to the training grounds, where Katie had the kids all together waiting for your arrival. 

“I see Mama!” Avery was the first to spot you and ran towards you, with Evan on her heels. They made it into your open arms at the same time. “Oh, I’ve missed you so much!” You hug them close. You hear more little feet rushing your way and look up with a big smile on your face. “More kids that I’ve missed so dearly! Come here you two.” You lift both of them up in the air, while the oldest two cling to your legs.

“Welcome to Ireland, baby!” Katie moves closer to you, “You’ve been missed as well.” She leans in for a kiss between the bundle of kids surrounding you. “It’s great to be here. The quietness was nice the first two days, but the rest of the time I missed all the crazy.” 

“Mama, we're not crazy!” Erin chimes in. “Hmm I don’t know about that little miss.” You start tickling her side and she starts squealing, “Sounds pretty crazy to me, don’t you think babe?” Katie watched the interaction with a fond smile, “The perfect amount of crazy.”

The next few days you got to spend as a family all together. You had intended to only stay for the home game, but since it was so quiet at home you had worked ahead more and asked your boss for some extra time off. Meaning you were able to travel with everyone to the away game as well. 

All in all, it worked out perfectly. And Katie once again proved to you that the two of you were a team and would always work together to figure everything out. You weren’t alone raising your kids, and you would never be again with Katie by your side.

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katie_mccabe11 just posted

katie_mccabe11: A special camp with the kids. Grateful to be able to bring them along and to be able to play in front of the incredible fans that showed up for us. Thank you for the support ☘️💚

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[tastesousweet]

⭒ the girl with the tattoo (iv) - pt 1 pt 2 p3

matt sturniolo x fem!oc / reader

summary : maybe the only way matt and y/n can stand being around each other is to fuck each other

warnings : weed, alcohol/drinking, smut (slightly rough but not very?? pretty filthy tho), profanity

mickey speaks : rlly hate how the smut turned out but maybe its jus me being a perfectionist + i changed a lot of shit ab UCLA (mostly grad dates) to fit into my narrative okay, i knowwww. only sorta proofread bc ive been busy, enjoy <3

THIS IS PART FOUR GO READ THE FIRST THREE PARTS DUHH

"FUCK!"

the turn of spring to summer in LA is typically the most eventful time of year. more parties are thrown than ever before in celebration of the season change, the boom of tourism begins, and of course school years are ending.

you celebrated your college graduation from UCLA only a week ago, with a large dinner at your favorite seafood restaurant and your friends all excitedly in attendance. matt was also there but you let it be known you invited him only so you wouldn’t feel bad (though he claims he wouldn’t have cared if you did or not).

you also shared an excruciating breakfast that same morning with your parents (both suffocating you with their traditional views that reminded you exactly why you moved hours away from them to attend school). you were cautious to wear items of clothing that would hide your tattoo and kept any conversations on the topic of your schooling rather than outside interests (not that they even care to ask) out of fear you may expose your routine of going out to party most weekends.

your brother was also at breakfast and you could tell he was trying his hardest to keep a positive attitude for you. you immediately noticed his wet face when you gave him a full hug after your ceremony, which made you cry, mostly out of missing him and love.

"it's not that bad!" andrea looks at you in the mirror as she continues to give herself soft curls.

“how the fuck did i manage to make this one downturned and this one up,” you reply in frustration while you point to either wing of eyeliner on your grimaced face.

andrea giggles and aims the stick of the curling iron at makeup remover lying in the sink, “just get a q-tip and fix it, cariño.” (“honey”)

you move around her to grab a q-tip from a small jar in the medicine cabinet before following her instructions, getting extra close to the mirror.

remi barges in the bathroom dressed in a mini skirt and a detailed patterned top, “hi nick!” she exclaims to her phone screen, placing it down on the counter while untwisting her lipgloss.

you can see nick’s awkward face as he sits in the car (making his camera jump at any dip or bump in the road), “sooo…this better be erin’s bathroom ceiling im staring at.”

“and if i say it’s not?” remi giggles to herself before rubbing her lips together to spread the gloss further.

“i’d say what the fuck are you guys still doing at home?! y/n’s our mutual friend that even got us into this bitch and i’m not just walking into some sorority house acting like i know any of these fucking people.”

“and we didn’t go to college!” chris exclaims to add to the point.

“yeah, we didn’t go to fuckin’ college!” nicks adds before his face falters, “the fuck does that have to do with it?”

chris’ voice is low as he explains himself, “you know…like, obviously we aren’t gonna know shit about some delta kappa omega?”

nick comedically pauses and the three of you watch the screen to see him staring at chris with no facial expression, “…okay chris. anyway, get your asses over here ASAP. we need you.”

“okay, we don’t need them. you’re being dramatic just chill out,” matt huffs from the driver’s seat.

“hey, we’re leaving soon i promise, nick.” andrea assures and remi picks her phone off of the counter to show the girl.

"thanks, but we'll be fine. erin told me where to find her, let's not get ridiculous." matt continues dismissing the conversation he finds so unnecessary.

you hold yourself back from saying anything but you can’t help but wonder just how close erin has got to matt. and how she managed to hold any conversations without pissing him off (no way a little lap dance dismissed matt’s entire personality). she hasn’t been too explicit about anything happening between them, only cluing you all in through her frequent mentions of him.

chris’ loud voice beams, “yeah, you ladies take your time! nick gimme the phone-” chris’ smiley face takes up remi’s screen now that the phone has shifted, “you know, who the fuck are we to tell any of you to rush?!” he sees andrea in view (with a form fitting dress and warm toned makeup) and can’t help the rush of words that decide to spill from his mouth, “andreayoulookfineasshitbytheway- and i just think, uh,” he giggles at his poor recovery and at andrea shaking her head and biting the side of her mouth (her very andrea way of blushing). “um, yeah, fuck, what was i sayin’?” he turns to matt.

nick laughs from the backseat at chris’ comment (he thinks it’s generally embarrassing opposed to andrea who finds herself embarrassingly flattered by him).

“nothing important, say your goodbyes now, we just pulled up.” matt gives his short advice and takes the phone. “see you, bye,” he hangs up and chris punches his arm immediately.

“dudeee!” chris groans. matt doesn’t give any reaction besides handing nick his phone back without looking at him.

“we’ll see them in less than an hour, get your shit.” matt tilts his head out the door as he opens it and exits the car.

“he’s so annoying.” chris huffs and turns to nick as he unbuckles his seatbelt.

“i don’t know him, he’s your fuckin’ brother.” nick shrugs and acts clueless. chris laughs into his seat and nick knows making chris laugh makes him feel way better than just shitting on matt would’ve.

matt opens his door again, “get your gigglin’ asses out here!”

౨ৎ

matt's suprised he's lasted this long at this party without a fucking drink.

he's seen just about every partygoer trope there is - drunk guys and "you need to sober up" girlfriends, overly excited drunks far too impressed by each new song that plays, the loner type who strictly speak within their circle even when wasted, et cetera - and has managed to lose everyone he knows in this crowd, leaving him alone with DD responsibilities in a sorority house bouncing with excitement in honor of their “graduating senior sisters.”

speaking of, he’s only spoken to erin once all night. he did see you with your friends briefly, early in the night before you were swooped away with nick to be introduced to some guy he just met.

so like all times matt is bitchless and bored, he decides to smoke. he reaches in his jacket pocket for the joint he rolled before the party, in case of emergency.

but just as he raises the lighter towards his mouth he's interrupted by an airy, high pitched voice, “um, excuse me!” matt looks over, “yeah, you. sorry, you can't have drugs in the house.” the blonde frowns.

“it’s weed…” matt clarifies, taking the joint from between his lips.

“uh huh! and that is prohibited, outside please,” she guides her hand, drink in tow, towards a sliding door behind her.

he's not gonna nitpick with some chick about the umbrella term of 'drugs' or debate whether the alcohol she's drinking lies under it, so he just nods his head “cool,” and removes himself from his spot against the wall to walk around her and out of the door.

౨ৎ

you slump against a nearby couch as you recover from a hour of dancing alongside your best friends. remi sits next to you and leans her head on your shoulder as you both look around at the room full of people (a shade of deep fuchsia covers the room from multiple LED lights around the large house).

when you feel your own blinks become slower you shrug your shoulder and look at remi's profile, "we should probably get up rem, or else we'll fall asleep. this couch is way too comfy." you sigh.

"mmm... yeah. kinda want another drink but," she turns to look behind you both, "the kitchen's all the way over there..."

"now i know you two aren't tapping out of my party already?!"

you both look over to see erin dressed in a small glittered party dress, making her shine as she walks closer. "erin, where the fuck have you been?!" you excitedly rise from the couch and give her a hug.

"it's actually so fucking hard to host a graduation party, especially with my sorority sisters- they've had me doing all these traditions and shit, i haven't had time to talk to like anyone!" she explains to both you and remi.

"well, at least you look good, bitch!" remi adds and holds erins hand to make her twirl in her dress.

"thank you," she blushes and looks down then back to you two, "have either of you seen the triplets?"

"i think nick's off with some dude and chris is 'teaching' drea how to play beer pong..." you trail off and look to remi, "have you seen matt at all...?"

"not recently, i don't think so?" she looks over to erin.

"oh okay, that's fine. just wanna make sure they're having funnn." she draws her words out as she plays with the ends of her hair and smiles. you and remi can both tell she something bothers her more than she's leading on.

"e, come with us to grab drinks," you hold both remi and erin's hands and guide them with you to the kitchen.

౨ৎ

matt hadn't realized how hard he was staring at you dancing until chris came up to him with wild eyes and a loud laugh, making him snap away from whatever trance he was in.

"you okay, matt? your brain's not buzzkillin' right?"

matt straightens himself to no longer lean on the wall, "no."

"you sure?"

"yes?"

"maybe you should say fuck DD and have a drink or two, might give you somethin' to smileee aboutttt!" chris laughs.

"don't be stupid, chris. 'm not driving drunk."

"obviously we'd get an uber, matt." he emphasizes with a 'duh' attitude. "i get funnier when drunk, not stupid."

"right," matt offers a light laugh.

he throws a hand over matt's shoulder as they both face the crowd of dancing people, "god damn andrea's fucking hot- swear she's been feelin' me all night," chris hypes himself up then brings his red solo cup towards his mouth.

matt's eyes shift from you to andrea, who's limbs move just as freely and smile is just as wide. "that's good, that's good," matt nods. "she's nice."

"she's everything, bro." chris shakes his head in awe, "but, uh, do you have any cash on you?" matt turns his head, eyes showing his annoyance. "i'll pay you back, you know that matt. just like $20 to get me in the poker game outside."

"chris-"

"please, matt," he begs.

matt lets a heavy sigh out through his nose as he rustles in his pocket for his wallet. "you're my favorite now," chris kisses matt's hand quickly before he's heading off with a crumpled twenty in hand.

matt's eyes follow him until he's fully gone, then he's turning to look for you again. only this time it's not a challenge at all, you're already on your way.

you pull at the bottom of your little black dress (which rode up some due to your eccentric dancing) as you approach. "hi, matttt," you sing. it's known to most of your friends that when you're drunk your emotions are ten times stronger, and right now you're feeling extra carefree.

matt can tell you've definitely had a few drinks, so he tries to keep the conversation civil. "hey," he cracks a smile.

"are you not having fun?" you ask. you've wondered ever since you recognized him across the room.

"sure, i'm having fun." he shrugs, keeping eye contact with you.

you notice his all black outfit and blue jean jacket, "we kinda match," you look down at yourself then towards him, "i had a jean jacket too...it's um, in a closet somewhere i think."

"then you must have great style," matt jokes.

"oh i think that was clear before i happened to match you," you joke making use of your hands while speaking.

"mhm, sure..."

"so, do you wanna dance with us?" you smile in question.

"absolutely not," matt laughs and brings a fist to his mouth.

your smile drops, "right, you watch us dance but laugh at the thought of participating...?" you move your eyes to each side, "'cause that makes sense, matthew."

"no, it's not like that. you go have fun, i'm just not one to make myself look stupid for fun." he shrugs.

"so we...look stupid?" you squint your eyes in amusement knowing matt is trying to be such a hard ass for no reason.

"you said it," he laughs.

now you're a bit annoyed. "so you go back to being a loser all alone right here in this corner, and i'll go back to this stupid party and enjoy myself."

"alright," he rolls his eyes, "go ahead and be dramatic about it."

"will do," you sigh and begin to walk over to your friends, presenting matt with the gift of your middle finger directed towards him behind your back.

and matt thinks he just might take chris' advice on having a drink or two.

౨ৎ

you hate that matt is still on your mind.

and it irritates the fuck out of you that you're now giddy seeing him for a third time tonight. but to give yourself the benefit of the doubt, you've gotten to the point where you're so buzzed you've become horny.

you came outside on the hunt for remi, who told you she was looking for erin, and ended up finding all three triplets at a makeshift poker table full of rowdy men.

and as some wise person must have said: when horny, find someone to fuck.

"y/n!! whatcha doin'?" nick notices you and gives you a wide grin offering you a chair near the table.

"hey, nick. 'm sorry i can't really stay i just, um, need to borrow matt."

matt. who isn't paying much attention to anything around him now that the four shots he took settled. with his phone in one hand and a beer resting in his other, he's bound to be startled when you come behind him and whisper in his ear, "heyyy, sorry to bother but can we talk?"

he blinks and looks behind him, "y/n?!"

"come," you motion with your fingers and begin to walk away as he rubs his fingers over his eyes and starts to stand up.

"yeah?" he asks getting closer to you.

you wordlessly bring him back into the heated house and navigate until you find a mostly empty hallway (all while he keeps annoying you by repeatedly asking what you want).

his back falls against the wall, "way to confuse the fuck outta me. what's good?" the hand you were once holding dives into his front pocket out of habit and the other continues to hold his beer.

"i just need you to take me home."

"y/n, i'm no longer driving myself home, let alone you," he shakes his head.

"right, i figured, smartass."

"glad those comprehension skills still work. grab your phone and order an uber, 'm sure you dont need my help."

"matt. i want you to come home with me." you sigh in defeat.

"oh shit." matt dead pans. "ohhh shit." his eyes widen before a a laugh breaks through his closed mouth, "sunshine...you're tryna' fuck?" he looks up at you from his spot against the wall.

you scramble a lie to make yourself look less pathetic, "you're a last resort trust me," you roll your eyes. this was way better in your drunken mind than reality.

"still made the list though!" matt jokes, "wow. who knew you were so romantic? bringing me all the way over here just to tell me you wanna fuck. and at your place? how sweet," he can't help but poke fun.

"fuck you," you say under your breath.

"well only because you asked so kindly!" he goes to wrap his arms around you before you push him back against the wall.

"are you done?"

"i guess." he shrugs.

"so will you or not," you try to keep your confidence and not allow matt's comments to embarrass you. "it's fine if not, just-"

"yeah," matt's smirk slowly grows. "meet me out front, i'll have to go lie to my brothers but i can be quick."

౨ৎ

"why am i shocked you're actually here?" you ask as you shut the car door and look over to matt, phone screen reflected on his face.

the car begins to speed out of the neighborhood as he turns off his phone and shoves it in his jacket pocket, "let's be serious for one second," he reaches over and pulls at the end of your dress, "you wear this and look like that and you think i'd say no? i'd be crazy. i mean, yeah, your fuckin' mouth can irritate me to pieces but-"

"actually just shut up, matt" you remove your head from leaning against the window and move across the middle seat to kiss him. you pull apart fairly quickly though, "how are you less mean yet extra annoying when drunk? i shoulda went with my last last resort." you shake your head.

matt grumbles before leaning to kiss you again.

౨ৎ

after a car ride full of teasing and rushed kisses, you both made it to your apartment complex.

you fumble with your purse as you search for your house keys, distracted by matt’s lips moving over your neck. you pinch your eyes shut in frustration, “mattt, give me a second,” you nudge your shoulder into him to get him off of you.

“let me see it,” he grumbles grabbing your purse and finding your keys with ease, moving his arms around you and unlocking the door.

“you make it look so easy,” you breathe and open the door with your body pressed against it.

matt lets go of you and follows you inside.

you lean a hand on the wall next to the door to quickly remove your heeled shoes and matt watches you with dopey eyes and glossy, excessively bitten lips before deciding to take his shoes off as well.

you walk closer to him once he’s done, your dress riding up your legs and barely covering your ass at this point. you look up to him and softly ask, “do you need anything to drink?”

he brings his right hand up to hold your face and moves close to your lips, “you know i don’t want a fucking drink.”

“you don’t?" your pout is genuine even though you're teasing him. he knows you're sweet enough to really get him a drink if he desired. he draws his thumb across your slumped lip before you speak again, "well…what do you want, matt?” you move your hands to the waist of his jeans, tracing the outer seam.

he pinches his eyes shut and moves his head to lean on your shoulder, he’s not gonna be the one to say he wants to fuck you. you want to fuck him, that's why he's here. so he’s definitely not begging you to touch him.

“hmm…?” you hum as your hands go to either side of his face, bringing him back to look at you. he looks into your eyes as he drops his hand from your jaw. you notice the pink splotches that still linger on his face, recovering from the heat of the party atmosphere and now the heat of this moment.

matt looks down at your lips, “you know what i want, and you want it too.” his hands travel down and push the front of your mini dress up as he feels over your underwear.

you mouth hangs open and you move your hips against him softly. begging him with your actions rather than your words. and those tend to speak the loudest.

"so what do you want, y/n?" he asks quietly without breaking eye contact.

"matt-" you breathe, wanting him to do anything more than a juvenile rub over your underwear.

he licks and sucks your neck as your hands capture his hair. “where do you want me?” he sounds out of breath when he asks so close to your ear. he finally moves his fingers past the waistband of your panties to nudge your clit as he taunts, “hmm…? you want me right here?”

you whine, “we can’t right here."

"why not?" he breathes against you, annoyed.

"i can't have you fuck me in the foyer i share with my best friend,” you just know andrea would be pissed if either of your body’s fluids made it onto the freshly vacuumed carpet.

he retracts his hand, “then why are we just standing around? show me to your room,” his voice is rough.

“why don’t you try to guess which is my room is mine?” you smile with your faces far too close together.

“why don’t you be a good host and give me a tour?” he retorts.

“that’s not fun,” you push.

he growls and lifts you up, walking past the living room and into a hallway that splits in two (all while you incessantly kiss his jaw and upper neck). he huffs at his ridiculous situation and reaches for the first door he sees. a toilet sits at the end of the room and a cluttered counter to the left.

“bathroom,” you mutter with a giggle.

matt responds with a snipped tone, “mhm yeah i’ve seen one before.”

his grip on your waist grows harsher as he opens and closes a multitude of doors with you commentating over.

he finally makes it to your room with you mocking him in a cheer of celebration as you climb off of him and turn on the dim light near your bedside.

matt would normally take in the room around him but his headspace is far too sexually frustrated to give a shit about how you decorate your room.

he opts to stand near the door and eye you from afar, wanting nothing more than to pounce on you.

you notice this (as well as the fact that matt hasn’t listened to a word you’ve said about minding the mess of clothes piled in the corner from your struggle to pick an outfit earlier) and slowly walk back towards him. the soft yellow light blurs behind you and highlights the edges of your figure in a mouthwateringly pretty way that makes matt antsy.

when you’re close enough matt somehow pulls you closer. his nose nudges against yours messily before capturing your mouth in a heated kiss. your hands feel for the end of his shirt and move underneath it to touch his warm lower stomach. you can feel how his body expands and curls as he breathes through your unwavering kiss.

despite wanting to keep the tension high, you break apart from matt to tease a bit, “can i touch you?” his face is scrunched absentmindedly from his desire and his lower lip finds its place tucked behind his front teeth when he rushes a nod to you in encouragement.

you push him away from you softly, “take your jacket off.” you move to your bed and after the sound of a jacket hitting the floor, you find him right on your feet, chasing your kiss and heat.

he leans over you and immediately finds your lips once more. now that he’s on top of you he finds himself wanting to get you to say how bad you want him.

his hands meet your thighs and move your dress as they run up to your rib cage before moving back down to squeeze your thighs.

matt’s surprised when you’re the one to involve your tongue in the mix, making the kiss sloppy yet intimate. your hand then crawls into his hair to keep him close.

but he doesn’t let you hold him for long, taking your hand from his hair and laying it against the bed, raising himself above you. “what do you want sweetheart?” he lowers his other hand towards your stomach, grazing your tattooed hip gently before feeling your underwear.

“you,” you respond in defeat and desperation.

“oh? and you want me to…?”

“matt. touch me,” you take your free hand and guide his own under the waistband of your underwear.

“but i thought you wanted to touch me? now you’re just bein’ selfish.” he keeps his hand close to your pussy, running his index finger across your lips kindly.

you look at him with droopy eyes, “please."

so matt lets you be selfish. he selfishly wants to taste you after all. he lowers himself to your face and captures your bottom lip once more, sucking then biting down slightly before moving his face further down your body slowly. your dress maintains its rippled shape in a bunch right where your tits lie.

he makes his way to your tattooed lower hip, still a little impressed with his execution of the cartoon (as it's not his typical style) and showing this with a kiss, then a light lick (making you shudder the tiniest bit). as he furthers, he finds the space on the bed is not enough, opting for the plush, carpeted floor.

matt sits on the back of his calves to watch how your body reacts when he pulls your panties down, only he misses the satisfied smile curling onto your face when you move your head to the the side.

he shifts your pliable legs to give him a better view of your heat's entirety, spreading your folds gently as he gathers spit in his mouth and spills it onto your clit. his eyes flicker from your face (choking on a moan) to the bead of saliva mixing with your natural slick that has him on edge. “that feel good?” he asks and moves his fingers up and down your pussy slowly, bumping your clit but not lingering long enough.

“yes...so good, matt,” you encourage in a broken whimper.

he hums, placing his mouth over your clit and sucking hard. you moan out lowly and you can't help but close your legs around matt's head. he normally would lay them flat again and tease you but he finds the pressure and dizziness turns him on so much more. his hands rest at your hips, moving up and down and your legs cradle his head as he works his mouth and tongue on you.

"mm fuck," you reach above your head to grip the soft colored comforter in your manicured hands. matt never falters, his licks only become needier when he adds two of his fingers to curl inside of you.

he continues his restless actions until the moment right before you have registered you were about to cum. then, he's immediately removing himself and standing up, wiping his face with one hand as the other hurries to unbuckle his chunky black belt.

you grumble and fix yourself to sit up and look at him, now discarding the belt into his own growing pile of clothes on your floor. he begins to unbutton his pants when he hears you whine and pull at his ego to get him to come back. “how fucking typical. should’ve known i'd barely get one orgasm, let alone two out if this.”

matt immediately stops unzipping his jeans and comes closer to stand above you, his face clearly annoyed. he gives your pussy a light slap, making you whimper. “keep talking shit, brat.” he grits through his teeth and slaps it again making a filthily wet sound that has you moaning.

he doesn't stop at that; he begins to harshly rub your clit back and forth without mercy, keeping eye contact as his face hovers your own, before moving his fingers inside of you while his thumb continues to work your clit. continuous loud moans crowd your room before you eventually meet your high with rolled eyes and shaking legs.

matt quickly pulls his fingers out and wipes them against your thigh leaving it sticky and shiny like golden honey. finally able to unzip and remove his jeans and boxers, allowing his needy cock to be free from the tightness. you move to the edge of your bed when you hear the small clap against his stomach, eager to find matt as ready for you as you are for him.

he watches from above as you admire his length while your fingers ghost over his sensitive dick. you then bring your mouth closer, dribbling spit over his tip and wrapping a fist around him. you look up into his hooded eyes for approval then take him in your mouth and jerk the rest of him with your hand.

he groans and bites his pink and undoubtedly swollen bottom lip as you suck and hollow your cheeks around him, even taking him all the way at some points. and though this feels fucking amazing, he wants nothing more than to be inside of you right now.

he holds the base of your neck then squeezes lightly to get you to pull away, spit erotically traveling with your lips. “can i fuck you now?” his voice is perfectly hushed yet demanding in tone.

you nod and matt wipes your lips, “good, take that dress off.” he removes his own shirt and reaches for a spare condom he’d put in his pocket before leaving the house (for no particular reason). he turns back to you, with your breasts now on display for him, ripping the package with his teeth.

you motion for him to give it to you and he complies. somehow even when you’re literally putting a condom over his dick, you’re a sweetheart about it: kissing it once he’s fully covered and turning yourself over onto all fours without him having to ask. because you understand yourself and have the confidence to choose the position you’d like to be fucked in. and matt would be lying if he said that isn't so fucking attractive.

he smirks as he adjusts himself on the bed, feeling out every inch of your full ass before moving his hands to squeeze your waist. you lay your head against the plush comforter, arching yourself further in anticipation. “matt,” you blubber out a whine.

he takes the base of his cock and guides it through your folds, “mhm…i know.” he sees your face twist in amusement, “oh, you like that, huh?”

you lick your lips and nod your head before matt finally pushes himself fully inside of you. his hips start in slow, rhythmic patterns before becoming uncontrolled and incomplete- and the same goes for your moans.

matt's almost hypnotized by the way your ass moves in reaction to his thrusts (slowing himself down just to watch in detail and only speeding up when you start to get really antsy over it).

as you both get sloppier and chase your highs, matt decides to flip you over and tuck your legs into your chest for a different angle. there's something especially needy in the way he rubs at your clit and makes a mess of your tits with his mouth that drives you insane with pleasure.

"my- shit!" you moan harshly under matt.

"hold it," he huffs.

"can't," you whimper, "just-"

"shhh," matt captures your lips as he quickens his pace, feeling his own climax approaching. after a few moments you're breaking the kiss to roll your head away, exposing your neck as you uncontrollably cum around matt.

"fuck," he moans, stilling his movements to maximize his release.

he takes a moment to breathe before removing himself from you, immediately fucking his fingers into you while rubbing your weak clit (just to be annoying) until you push him away and tell him to fuck off.

he lets out a chuckle as he removes the condom and discards it appropriately. when he comes back over to you you're on your side with your own arm wrapped around your waist in comfort.

matt sits next to you, "that good for you?"

you just nod and bite back a smile.

matt hums in pride, running a hand over your exposed ass before leaning down to kiss and suck a dark hickey into the skin.

"c'mere," you tug his hand.

he complies and you turn to open your legs for him once more, grinding a bit once the two of you begin to kiss again.

you reach between the two of you, taking matt's half-hard dick in your hand and stroking. as you pick up your pace he whines and begins to thrust into your hand in need.

until you hear your front door open. to which you push matt off of you and on to the floor, hearing him groan as you snap at him to get in your closet.

you crawl under your comforter while matt hurries to gather his things from your floor and get into your closet.

you hear andrea stumble a little making her way through the house and you catch your breath just as she knocks on your door and cracks it to check if you're sleeping.

"y/n, you awake?" she slurs a whisper.

"yes. hi drea, how'd you get home?"

she opens the door a little further but continues to lean on the door frame, "how did you get home? was lookin' all over like 'where's my girl?' everyone was usless though," she sighs.

"sorry, i took an uber," you giggle, "i got sleepy, i guess."

"mhm...you and me both." she yawns expectedly.

"you should get some sleep, we can talk in the morning, okay?" you smile from your bed.

andrea nods, "'kay, love you." she leaves with a sleepy smile.

"love you," you reply as she shuts the door again.

you let out a relieved breath, glad she hadn't suggested a sleepover like you'd both normally do when drunk.

matt walks out of your closet, almost fully clothed, buckling his belt again, "gave me fucking rug burn, thanks."

you move a hand over your face, "sorry- i just don't need anyone seeing you here."

"'s fine," he shrugs and takes a seat on your bed, "how long is it gonna take her to sleep so i can leave?"

"less than five minutes," you pick at one of your acrylic nails, seeing matt place his jacket on your bed makes you almost laugh to yourself, "shit, i left my jacket at erin's."

matt grins to himself and adds, "shit, i left my car at erin's," with a shake of his head.

you both laugh softly before it fizzles.

matt's back is towards you as he opens his phone to order another uber home. and now the silence brings you back into reality and suddenly you're feeling sick to your stomach about erin.

it takes you a little but you eventually mumble towards his back, "matt you didn’t fuck erin, right?"

"no," his voice sounds distracted and like he wouldn't care even if he did.

you focus on a loose thread in your comforter that you pick at, "...kay. not that it matters 'cause this was only for tonight. but i know i would probably die from guilt knowing i fucked with you after she did."

he turns to see you genuinely out of it and seeming to shelter yourself under your blanket. he leans towards you and rubs your arm softly before whispering, "don't make it a big fucking deal, nothing's different." his stare actually makes you feel far worse but you nod as if you agree anyway.

he stands up and puts his jacket on, “you sleep well okay, sunny?”

"shut the fuck up, you don't care about how i sleep," you whisper.

he breathes a laugh and reaches for your door.

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆🎱˚

tag list (ily):

@rootbeerworshiper

[lotusbxtch]

Ocean's Gold - An Offering of Frith story

Pairing: Jack Daniels / Agent Whiskey x f!Reader Word Count: 6.4k Rating: Explicit - 18+ ADULTS ONLY, MDNI Frith Challenge god: Ægir

Summary: Jack Daniels, retired from the Statesmen, signs you on as the business partner for his new brewpub. Sparks fly, and you wonder if it could ever be more.

Tags/warnings: Tags/warnings: alcohol (beer) is a major part of the story, consumption of food & alcohol, a sprinkling of angst, fingering (f receiving), oral (f and m receiving), protected PIV, Jack is an absolute consent king & safe sex advocate, semi-public sex (1 scene), absolute tooth-rotting fluff (these two are SO CUTE). Reader has she/her pronouns and identifies as female, has a name (not including it yet to keep it a surprise!) and some backstory but otherwise there are no physical details included - it's you, darling! (psssst: 2 other P boys make a guest appearance!)

a/n: This is my (belated) entry for @perotovar's Offering of Frith Challenge. My P boy/Norse god combo was Jack Daniels & Ægir. This is actually my first time writing Jack! It was such a fun challenge, and although I was honestly initially scared that I bit off more than I could chew, I ended up loving what I've written. I hope you do too! (See the afterword for more details on Ægir and other nods to Norse mythology/traditions that I sprinkled in!) Thank you Erin for hosting this challenge, and @for-a-longlongtime for being my cheerleader, beta reader, and telling me over and over that I could do this! Moodboard by @perotovar, dividers by @saradika-graphics.

Just breathe, you got this.

You straighten out your outfit in the mirror in an attempt to quell your nerves. Dark jeans, espresso leather lace up boots, cropped well-worn Fleetwood Mac graphic tee, and your favorite blood red blazer. You swipe on a matching red lip, nod at yourself in the mirror, and leave your apartment to walk down to the brewery.

The 3 block-long walk gives you time to review what you learned about the business opportunity. Jack was a recently-retired government operative who inherited a large sum of money and wanted to use it to open a brewpub. A smart businessman already, he knew that in order for his brewpub to be successful - regardless of how good his beer was - he needed to have a damn good pub restaurant, too. Which is why you’re swinging open the brewpub’s doors on a mild fall evening, CV in hand: as it turns out, you were looking for your next culinary opportunity. After working in a number of prestigious kitchens, you itched for the opportunity to build something of your own, something homey that you could be proud of. This position is exactly the kind of project you hoped for.

You step into the building, the interior clearly unfinished, but with good structure to it - high vaulted ceilings, good natural lighting, and two levels. Three, if you count the brewery on the floor below you to the left, where you could see the tops of large brewing fermentation vessels.

“Hello?” you call out into the barebones building, looking around for signs of life.

“I’ll be there in a jiffy!” you hear from someone below you, presumably Jack. In a moment, you see him emerge from the staircase leading to the brewing area, and you feel your breath catch in your throat.

Holy hell, you didn’t know he was THIS hot.

Walking towards you was easily one of the most handsome men you’ve ever set eyes on. Tall, incredibly broad-shouldered, and golden-skinned, Jack sauntered up to you wearing a white t-shirt stretched across his chest, dark jeans, black Wellingtons, and a belt with - is that a whiskey flask buckle?

“Rán, I assume?” Jack broke into a wide smile, offering up his hand. You shook it firmly, reveling in the warmth of Jack’s hand and how it dwarfed yours. Keeping your eyes locked to Jack’s amber ones, you returned his smile and nodded.

“It’s so nice to meet you in person, Jack,” you said, taking another glance around the interior. “The place has good bones.”

“That is does,” Jack responds, looking around as well. “I have high hopes for this place. And you seemed like the perfect person to hook up with to get it done.”

Your eyes bug out for a moment before you can school your face, but the heat starts creeping up your neck anyway. I’m sure he didn’t mean it that way…

“Oh, hell,” Jack sputters, “That’s not what I meant! I… dagnabbit, I’m already blowing it…” He runs his hand through his dark brown waves, thoroughly embarrassed. “I meant to partner with. On this business venture.” Jack looked at you, face flushed, eyes pleading. You couldn’t help but let out the giggles coming from your chest.

“Hardly blown, but maybe we can have some of that beer you promised me and start over?” you suggest, tilting your head towards the brewery. Jack looked relieved and nodded in agreement. 

“Follow me, darlin’, and I’ll take you to my mad scientist lab,” he says as he motions towards the staircase. Following his broad frame (good god, those shoulders are so wide) down the steps, you emerge in the brewery, the heart of the business. Gleaming stainless steel fermentation tanks tower above, the immaculate floor wet, looking recently sanitized. The smell of malted barley and herbaceous hops permeates the air, and the brewery area is compact yet efficient. Everything looks perfectly kempt, a testament to how much Jack cares about his beer. On a wall hook near the entrance hung a black leather jacket and a black Stetson cowboy hat. You notice a small farmhouse table set up nearby the office area with two glasses set atop. 

He set this up just for us?

Your eyes meet Jack’s, your mouth a bit ajar, and he smirks, pulling out a chair for you like a real southern gentleman. “Think I wouldn’t pull out all the stops for my hopefully-soon-to-be business partner?” You sit, and he walks to the carbonation room to fetch his brew of choice. Returning with the deep brown glass growler, Jack raises it towards you in offering. You nod, pushing your glass closer and he pours the liquid within out. A pale golden beer flows into your glass, creamy foam gathering on the surface. He pours himself some, then sits down at the other end of the table. 

“This is somethin’ I’ve been workin’ on for the grand openin’,” he explains, motioning to the beer. “It’s a farmhouse ale, what’s usually referred to as a saison. I’m callin’ it Ocean’s Gold. I want it to be the flagship brew. Please, try it and let me know what you think.” Your eyes flick to the glasses, and then with a small smile, you bring it up to your lips and drink. The beer is full-bodied, malty but light, with citrus and peppery notes dancing across your tongue. The finish is dry, resulting in a beer that’s incredibly drinkable and refreshing.

“Holy cow, Jack,” you breathe out, astounded at his skills. “That’s so delicious. You’re one hell of a brewmaster.”

Jack chuckles, grinning warmly. “Why thank you, sugar,” he croons, making the heat rise up the back of your neck again. Damn those Southern nicknames, you think to yourself, willing your nerves to calm. “Hopefully I’m as good of a brewer as you are a chef. I’ve been askin’ around, and word on the street is that you’re one of the best and hardest working chefs people have worked with.”

“Well, that’s high praise,” you reply, “but I’m glad to hear it. I pride myself on my work ethic and food is my first love, as it seems like brewing is for you. What sort of place do you want the brewpub to be?”

Jack contemplates his answer. You see his face get more serious, but nothing but passion shines from his eyes when they lift to yours. “First and foremost, aside from serving up the best beer this side of the Rockies, I want this place to be ingrained in the community.” You sip your beer as Jack continues. “This place has given me so much, and I want to give back. I want a place where everyone feels welcome, ya know? Whether they want to share a pint with a friend, get a bite to eat with loved ones, or meet new people who share their love of good food and beer, I want them to feel at home.”

A wistful look passes over Jack’s face, and he pauses to meet your eyes again. “Now, I don’t wanna overload you with too many details, but this part is pretty important to me, and I wanna make sure that whatever business partner I end up with is on the same page.” You nod, encouraging him to continue. “Now, when I was growing up, my family didn’t have the most to live on. A lot of times we went hungry, and it was only through the kindness of strangers that we got to eat then. I have this idea for a ‘pay it forward’ type meal program. Folks can come in, pay $5, $10 for a prepaid meal ticket. We’d put those paid vouchers up somewhere and if someone is hungry and doesn’t have the money to pay, they can take one of those vouchers and we’d give ‘em a hearty meal, free of charge.”

Jack takes a breath and closes his eyes for a moment, then looks back over at you. You can feel your heart ache for this man who clearly had to work hard to be where he’s at, now wanting to share his wealth with those less fortunate than him. You try to swallow the lump in your throat.

“Jack, that’s… incredible,” you finally get out. This degree of selflessness wasn’t common in business owners in the circles you existed in. “I’d be honored to help you make that dream a reality.”

“Is that you sayin’ you’ll saddle up with me, sugar?” Jack looks at you with hope in his eyes. Your heart leaps, and you try to calm it down as you nod affirmatively. This is a business deal, your brain warns your heart. It beats fast anyway.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Jack beams, excitement rippling off his body. “Can’t wait to build this place up together.”

You grab the growler and fill your and Jack’s glasses, raising yours to his. “Cheers to a fruitful new partnership.” Your smile reflects Jack’s, and you both drink up.

The next 9 months are a whirlwind of activity. After your official business documents were drawn up and signed, you and Jack worked night and day to get the brewpub ready for the following summer. You designed the interior, fitting the place with warm dark wood and brassy golden fixtures. Chic firepits dotted the outdoor patio in the back. You included subtle oceanic iconography wherever you could – the sea was a huge inspiration for the both of you. Jack worked tirelessly on a signature lineup of beer, as well as a couple of seasonal offerings to add variety. Meanwhile, you toiled in the kitchen, experimenting with flavor profiles and dishes until you’d perfected your menu. You laughed and joked as you worked together, getting to know each other’s backstories as well as each other’s preferred workstyles. You talked and dreamed, debated and sometimes argued - after all, both of you were stubborn - but always worked things out. You kept him on his toes, and he kept you grounded.

Oftentimes, you and Jack used each other as taste testers, knowing the both of you would give honest feedback. On one particular evening in the late winter, you were sitting at the half-finished bar, sipping on a trial seasonal amber ale that Jack fermented in whiskey barrels. 

“I never asked you where you got your name from, darlin’,” Jack mused, taking a gulp of his beer afterwards. “It’s quite unusual.”

“Ahh yes,” you responded, a smirk turning up your lips. “That would be thanks to my literary professor grandmother. She specialized in studying mythology texts from around the globe. Rán is the Norse sea goddess of death.” You saw Jack’s eyebrows twitch upwards in surprise, and you chuckled a bit before continuing. “That sounds intense, but she is also seen as the caretaker of those who die at sea. She helps care for them until they are ready to move on to the next realm. My grandmother wanted me to be tough, suffer no fools, but to also be kind and care for those that need it.” 

Jack huffs in amusement. “Sounds just like you. She did a good job with that name.”

You smile, swirling your glass in thought. You look up at him, but his warm chocolate eyes are already on you, a flicker of something in them that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Jack?” you start. “There’s something I wanted to ask you about the ‘giving back’ part of the business.” You take a deep breath, your true passion project in your mind. “A long time ago, when I was much younger and just starting my culinary journey, I worked at an assisted living home, specifically for those with Alzheimer’s disease. It paid terribly, but I got a lot of experience in preparing food in a foodservice setting. It also deeply affected me. You don’t realize how important food is to people. Sometimes family members would ask if we could put something special on the menu, a dish their loved one used to make or loved to eat, to see if they would remember. We wouldn’t make any promises, but I’d always remember which request was from which family. When we were able to accommodate those requests, I’d see these people whose minds… for lack of a better term, seemed to be proverbially lost at sea… but they took one bite of their favorite food, and their whole face lit up. Sometimes it was simply enjoying the food, but other times it would trigger fond memories.”

Your eyes began to water, and Jack reached across the table and grabbed your hand, gently stroking his thumb across the top. You swallowed, continuing. “I hated that I had to leave that place, but my career wouldn’t go anywhere if I didn’t, and the money wasn’t nearly enough to pay the bills. I always thought, if I was in a place where I could give back, I would love to donate my time and supplies to cook for people like that again.” You look into Jack’s eyes, a swirl of emotions in yours. “Do you think… we could maybe do that with the brewpub? Take a day off every month or so to cook for an Alzheimer’s assisted living home?”

Jack squeezed your hand. “Of course, sugar. It means a lot to you, and it’s helpin’ the community. I couldn’t think of a more worthy cause.”

A tear slipped down your face as you smiled and mouthed “thank you” at him. But your breath caught in your throat when Jack reached up to tenderly wipe away the tear from your cheek. You stare at each other, a charge running through the air. 

Kiss him, your heart whispers.

But instead, you clear your throat, squeeze his hand and throw on a grin. “I’d love some more of that ale if you got any more.”

Jack smiles softly. “For you? No charge.” You both giggle as he goes to grab another pint for you.

He’s just a business partner, your brain reminds you. But he’s become more than that, you realize.

A friend. A partner in dreams.

Maybe more, says your heart.

A few months later, the brewpub is bustling.

With the support of some of your industry friends - and your and Jack’s hard work - The Gilded Wave opens with a bang. Business is booming; the restaurant is constantly busy, and Jack is so swamped with the microbrewery that he had to hire two additional assistant brewmasters to keep up with demand. You are speaking to your front-of-house manager when two very familiar faces burst through the front door.

Your face lights up. “Pero! Ez! What are you guys doing here?” you exclaim as they wrap you up in a bear hug. You squeal as they lift you into the air with ease.

“We heard through the ever-whisperin’ grapevine that our sweet Birdie built her very own nest and we just had to come see for ourselves,” Ezra drawls, his characteristically charismatic smirk alighting his face while he takes in the brewpub. “What a perfectly festooned establishment you got here! I sure do hope the fine provisions match the opulence of the aesthetics!”

You shake your head, giggling at Ezra’s always-fanciful dialogue, as Pero rolls his eyes at his companion. “It’s lovely to see you, hermosa,” he rumbles, kissing your cheek. 

“I missed you both so much! Wanna sit at the bar and I can set you two up with some beer & food?” you offer.

“That would be fabulous, Birdie!” Ezra exclaims, clapping his hands together. “I am in need of libations like an earthworm in the midday sun.” The two men plunk themselves down at the bar, and you turn to your bartender.

“Eddie, do you mind sending in an order of garlic fries and crispy artichoke hearts for these two gentlemen?” Eddie nods and starts punching in the order in the system. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Jack coming up from the brewery stairs, wiping his brow after checking on the brewing. “Jack! Come meet some friends.”

Jack grins, loping up the rest of the stairs. He swaggers up to the bar, looking at you expectantly. 

“Jack, this is Ezra and Pero. We worked together in a bunch of restaurants over the last few years.” Jack smiles widely, shaking the hand of each man and exchanging greetings.

“Guys,” you say, “this is my business partner Jack. He’s the brilliant brewmaster keeping this place busy.”

“Aww, shucks, sugar,” Jack guffaws, “this place ain’t what it is without your excellent food. Only so long a man can survive on beer before he needs to eat. And what an incredible menu it is!”

You feel your cheeks heat with the compliment. “Jeez, don’t make me soft in front of these two. I’ll never hear the end of it!” You punch Jack in the shoulder playfully, and your friends snort.

“Rán? Soft? No way, only if she really likes you,” Pero gruffs with a laugh. “She used to make grown men cry when they’d try to start shit with her.”

You turned to Jack with a smirk. “I told you I suffer no fools.”

Jack puts his hands in the air playfully in mock surrender. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.” He turns to Pero and Ezra. “Would you two like to act as my beer guinea pigs for a moment? I have a new winter ale that I’m looking to perfect before the season hits us.” Your friends nod in agreement and thanks, and Jack turns to the bar, pouring from an unmarked tap that he keeps just for his trial brews. He slides the taster glasses to Ezra and Pero, and your friends sip in contemplation.

Ezra immediately starts speaking, as per usual. “Why, Jack, that is one of the finest ales I’ve ever had in my many turns around this here planet! The spice notes, they’re so unique! Is that coriander and ginger I’m picking up?” He sips again before Jack can speak. “Maybe some citrus?”

“Mighty fine palette you have there,” Jack responds. “It’s a white ale I’ve spiked with coriander, ginger, and orange peel. Gives that warm holiday feeling.”

Pero nods, eyebrows raised. “Now that, amigo, is a good beer.” He raises his taster in salute, then downs the rest.

You giggle and slap his hand. “Tovar! You’re supposed to savor it!” Pero only shrugs.

“It’s quite alright,” Jack chuckles. “They can each have a full pint with all the compliments they’ve lathered me up with.” You roll your eyes at your friends, and rub Jack’s shoulder in a “thank you” gesture. Pero clocks the move, and raises his eyebrows in question. You silently beg him to not ask anything.

Jack places two pints of the white ale in front of the men. “Well, fellas, thanks for coming in. I have to go back down to the beer lab now that I know this winter recipe is locked in. It’s been great meeting the two of you, and I hope to see y’all around again!” 

Pero and Ezra bade farewell to Jack, who disappeared back down the stairs just as the fries and artichokes arrived to the two of them. Both men dug in, nearly moaning in pleasure at the food.

“Birdie, this is incredible,” Ezra exclaims, dunking a fried artichoke into the aioli. Pero nods in agreement.

“Thanks, guys,” you coo, pleased that two of your longest friends approved of your menu. The three of you are silent for a moment, a rare occurrence when around Ezra.

“So what’s with you and Jack?” Pero asks bluntly. You nearly choke on the garlic fry you swiped from the basket. Ezra giggles into the artichokes.

“Nothing is going on,” you stammer, coughing slightly. “He’s my business partner.”

“Hermosa, I know you well, and you’ve never rubbed my shoulder like that,” Pero levels.

“I will say,” adds Ezra, “I could detect a certain… aura around you when Jack came upstairs. I have also never experienced that around you.” 

“Guys, we are business partners,” you assert. “We just got close ‘cause of how intertwined our work is.”

“Yeah, I’m sure there was some intertwining happening…” Pero mutters, and you slap him upside the head. Ezra titters uncontrollably.

“Alright, Birdie,” Ezra relents, “we’ll leave you alone about handsome Mr. Jack for now. But his winter ale did alight some thoughts in my head about a certain gathering…”

You groan. “Ez… we just opened up not that long ago. I can’t in good conscience ask Jack to let our ragtag group of friends take over the brewpub for our yearly winter debauchery.”

“But what if we profusely pledge to be on our most upstanding deportment?” Ezra begs, batting his eyelashes comically while putting on his best puppy face.

Pero snorts. “Fat chance at that. But I do like the idea.” He turns to you, raising an eyebrow.

You stare at them for a few moments more, and then your resolve crumbles. “Alright, you two hooligans, I’ll ask. But NO promises, okay?” Ezra cheers and wraps you in a tight hug, while Pero gruffs in agreement and stuffs a handful of fries in his mouth.

Surprisingly (or not so surprisingly, as he is so sweet and accommodating), Jack is enthusiastic about hosting your friend group’s annual winter party, saying how excited he was to meet your friends. You and Ezra planned for weeks, and Pero came through to help you and Jack decorate the place. The warm wood is hung with pine and holly garlands, twinkling string lights criss-cross along the walls and ceilings, and pine cones are tucked into various corners of the space. A yule tree sparkled in an alcove, decorated in reg, green, and gold. And you made sure to pin up a few sprigs of mistletoe, one of your favorite traditions of the season. Back at your apartment, you slip on a sumptuous golden silk dress that clings in all the right places and flows beautifully to show off your figure, and strap on matching gold heels. Swiping on the same crimson lipstick you wore when you met Jack as a finishing touch, you smooth your outfit and walk back to the pub.

Soon enough, your friends began to pour into the space, bringing with them various foods and drinks. Jack made a special batch of wassail for the occasion, and Ezra dramatically waxes poetic about how good it is while Pero rolls his eyes at him, as usual, in the corner. The space fills with laughter, clinking glasses, and the smell of delicious food. You and Jack act as the gracious hosts, making sure no one’s glasses are empty and all the plates are full. As you’d hoped and prayed, Jack gets along amazingly well with every single one of your friends. He jokes and roasts; listens intently and carefully to people’s stories. He extends a warmth and familiarity to all, and more than once you get nudged suggestively, eyebrows wiggling and giggles whispered into your ear about how wonderfully well you and Jack work together. You flush with heat every time, and it’s hard to deny the chemistry between the two of you. Beyond being fantastic business partners, you admire Jack’s adeptness, his dogged cleverness, and most of all, his heart. Jack’s got one of the biggest hearts you’ve ever come across.

And, even if you fight it, you realize that Jack’s worked his way into your heart, too. All night you’ve been exchanging charged glances, sly smiles, little winks here and there. Jack places a warm hand on the small of your back while passing you. You press your body subconsciously against his while reaching for another glass. Fingertips brush, sparks fly. 

By the time your friends trickle out into the night, merry and full, the heat between the two of you is palpable.

You’re cleaning up the bar area when Jack approaches you, two glasses of wassail in his hands. “Outstanding shindig you threw, darlin’,” he observes, passing you a glass. You clink your cup against his and take a sip, savoring the way the ale, sweet honey, and spices swirl across your tongue. 

“We threw the party, Jack,” you correct. “You were just as good of a host as me, if not better.”

Jack smirks. “Well, it’s easy when you have such fun friends.”

“They are fun for sure, although I was worried they’d be a bit… much,” you admit.

“Pfft, I’m used to dealing with strong personalities,” he scoffs, nudging you pointedly. You roll your eyes but your grin remains, and you scoot closer to him, pressing the side of your body against his. You both lean against the bar, facing the interior of the brewpub, admiring where your hard work has taken you.

“Can you believe this place is real?” you muse, sipping again. Your eyes roam the space above you, when you stop and smile to yourself.

“Yes, I remember you waltzing into this place when it was nothing but concrete and pipes and my brewing equipment, a pretty thing with red lips and determination,” Jack reminisces, ignorant of what you’ve spotted.

Your heart skips a beat. Pretty.

“Oh yeah, cowboy? ‘A pretty thing’?” you purr, turning slightly to face him, your red lips pursed in amusement. Jack looks slightly hesitant, worried he crossed a line, until you point upwards and his eyes follow.

A sparkling sprig of mistletoe hangs between the two of you, above your heads. He meets your eyes again, all hesitation gone. 

“Are you gonna just stare, or are you gonna respect tradition and kiss this ‘pretty thing’?” you whisper, your lips curled flirtatiously.

A smirk spreads across Jack’s face. “I thought you’d never ask, sugar.” And with that, he pulls you into his body and your lips connect.

It’s a slow, sensual kiss when it starts. Jack is gentle, all brushes of the lips, presses and caresses of your body. You lean into him, feeling your nipples press against his dark button up while he cups the back of your head tenderly. A small whimper escapes your lips, and Jack pulls back with concern. 

“Is this still okay?” he murmurs, rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs. You don’t answer with words, you just nod and pull him into another kiss, gently biting his plush lower lip. Jack moans gruffly, sliding his hands down the lines of your body, pausing to cup and squeeze your silk-covered ass. You feel wetness start to gather at your entrance, your arousal rocketing by the second as your kisses get more and more impassioned. Jack trails wet kisses down your neck, licking at your pulse point and right behind your ear, ripping another whimper from your chest. 

“Sugar, I need to taste you so badly,” Jack groans into the junction of your neck and shoulder, biting softly. 

“Please, Jack,” you breathe out, and Jack lifts you onto the bar counter, rucking your dress up. You spread your legs, helping to pull the golden silk out of the way. Jack pauses, then another smirk blooms on his lips; he takes his black Stetson off his head and places it onto yours in a quiet act of possession. You pant while you watch Jack pull up a barstool in front of you. Seating himself, he spreads you even wider, his eyes glittering with desire when he sets his eyes on your glistening center. You didn’t wear any panties, and he groans at the realization.

“Fuck, you’re prettier than a picture, honey,” he rumbles, tracing his large warm hands up your inner thighs, triggering more slick to seep out of you. Using his thumb, Jack spreads your wetness around your folds, and you inhale sharply, whimpering again. When Jack spies the pearl of your clit, he runs his thumb across it slowly, encouraging it to harden. 

“So fucking pretty,” Jack murmurs to himself, thumbing your clit again and reveling in the twitch of your thighs as he does. He leans down and runs the flat of his tongue across your entire pussy, from bottom to top, swirling around your clit deliciously slowly. Wanton moans snake their way from your throat. You grip Jack’s hair, keeping his face pressed against your most intimate parts. He groans into your folds, devouring you like a man starved, as you whine and whimper and shake for him. He’s observant, noticing when your body twitches and your cries pitch higher, using that information to bring you to the simmering cusp of your orgasm. 

“Come for me, darlin’,” Jack pleads, slicking up two fingers and sliding them inside you, your pussy gripping him tightly. You throw your head back, legs shaking from the intensity, when he reaches a spot deep in you.

With a few more pressured strokes of his fingers and a gentle suck of his mouth on your clit, you shatter around him, cunt clenching and dripping onto his fingers.

“That’s it, such a good girl coming for me when I ask,” Jack coos, his fingers continuing to work you through your orgasm, squelching from your release. Your moans are music to his ears, rapidly hardening his cock. Once you recover a bit, Jack slips his fingers into his mouth right before your eyes, growling quietly at the taste.

“Sweeter than honey,” he grits out, swooping in for a kiss, your own taste lingering on his lips and making you moan yet again. 

“Jack, I need you inside me,” you beg between fevered kisses. Jack pulls away to meet your eyes. 

“I don’t want to fuck you here,” he explains. “Can we go to your place? I want to lay you out, fuck you proper like you deserve.”

“Yes, of course,” you breathe, and he slaps your ass lightly before helping you off of the counter. You giggle, wobbling slightly in the aftermath of your pleasure. Jack helps right you and wraps a steadying arm around your shoulders while the two of you walk the three blocks to your apartment.

As soon as you enter the door, Jack is on you again, grinding his clothed cock into you and kissing you deeply. You walk the two of you backwards to your bedroom, clothing and shoes coming off between lips locking and hands groping, exploring. Both naked, you climb onto your bed, Jack following. Your legs fall open, and Jack can’t help himself from lunging forward to lick at your drenched pussy at the first sight of your slick lips parting. A whine hitches from your lungs, and Jack pulls back, shifting up to kiss you deeply again. Tongues tangle, lips are bitten, breathless moans exchanged. He pulls back again as you chase his lips, but he stops you.

“Hold your horses, sweetheart. Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks, eyes shining with both hope and concern. “I don’t want you to move faster than you’re ready for.”

Your heart clenches at the display of care and consent. A smile lights your face as you respond, “Yes. I’ve been wanting this for ages… I was just too scared to be wrong about you feeling the same way for me and ruining an amazing business partnership. I’ve been dreaming of you in my bed for months, and now that I have you here, I’m not going to let you get away so fast.”

Jack’s eyes light up, and he presses a soft kiss to your forehead before getting off the bed. He rummages through his pants briefly until he pulls a gold foil square from his wallet.

“I’ve got a golden ticket here for you, darlin’, but I want you to know that I get tested regularly and that I’m clean,” Jack informs you, a smile warming his face when you giggle at his corny joke. “Is that okay with you?” He climbs back onto the bed, leaning down to kiss your belly.

You nod affirmatively. “So do I, and I’m on the pill.” Sitting up and holding your hand out for the condom, you ask, “May I?”

Jack hands you the packet. “Be my guest, angel.” You lean forward, pressing your lips once again into his, and he groans in surprise as you flip him onto his back in one fluid motion. Climbing up his legs, you push them apart to make room for yourself in between. His impressive cock is achingly hard, viscous droplets of precum bubbling at the tip. You lap them up eagerly, Jack’s head falling onto your pillows with a muffled thump and a whine of pleasure.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good,” Jack breathes. You suckle at the head, humming in pleasure as the salty-bitter taste floods your senses. Slowly, you begin bobbing up and down his shaft, swirling your tongue across his silky length, making his moans louder and more ragged as you go. After a couple of minutes and an intense suck later, Jack actually whimpers into the thick air of your bedroom, begging you for more. You tear open the foil packet carefully, then suck his cockhead one more time before settling the condom on top and gingerly rolling it down his thick cock. 

You rise to your knees and shuffle upwards, leaning down one more time to kiss him. With your lips locked, Jack presses you back a bit and scooches his body up to sit against the headboard. You settle into his lap and slide yourself down his cock slowly.

The stretch is exquisite. Both of you moan in sync, your hands planted on his tan chest, his hands coming up to grip your hips to keep himself tethered to the moment. You feel as if every empty space in your body is filled; he fits perfectly inside you, like he was meant to be there. 

He feels like coming home.

Once he’s bottomed out inside of you, you both take a moment to breathe and be present. Jack’s eyes are closed, forehead resting against yours, breathing each other’s air. His hands slowly and gently knead your hips while you adjust to his thickness stretching your walls deliciously. Bringing one of your hands to his face, you admire his blissed but tense countenance. It seems like the both of you are barely keeping it together; your pussy throbs against his cock, which twitches in response. Your breathing is heavier. And so is the tension and desire.

You kiss Jack’s lips softly, tracing your thumb down the line of his jaw, and his eyes flutter open, utterly melting when they focus on you. “Baby,” you murmur, “can I ride you now?” A groan claws out of Jack’s mouth, and his lips part as he nods his head affirmatively. 

“Please,” he begs, and fucks up gently into you. Your center clenches in response, and you begin to work yourself on his shaft, rolling your hips as you grind down and back up. The sensation is intense, intimate, and all-consuming.

You clutch at Jack’s well-muscled shoulders, pressing kisses wherever you can reach and nipping his neck. His groans deepen and lengthen, his cock swelling even harder with the feeling of being buried inside you, surrounded by hot velvet. Hands gripping harder, he thrusts back up into you each time you slide down, punching into a spot deep inside you that makes you see stars. Dizzying ecstasy lights up your veins as your moans and whines pitch higher with your arousal. The slick, obscene squelching of your pussy only serves to intensify the experience for the both of you.

“Oh god, sweetheart, you’re so fucking wet and tight for me,” Jack slurs, lost in his reverence of you. “Could never get enough of you.” All you can respond with is a devout chant of his name, moaned and sighed and whimpered. He reaches down and slicks his thumb with your juices, swirling it gently around your clit. You keen sharply.

“Jack,” you moan, “don’t stop, you’re getting me there.” Jack hushes you as he works your pearl firmer.

“C’mon, sugar, I wanna feel you come all over my cock,” he encourages urgently, massaging that spot deep in your pussy while he swirls, swirls, swirls with his thumb. Your whines sharpen, your body beginning to shake.

“Oh fuck, Jack, you’re gonna make me come,” you yelp desperately, your pussy contracting and squeezing his cock tightly. Jack digs his fingers harder into the meat of your hips, trying to stave off his own orgasm, as he continues his ministrations.

He leans forward, sucking and kissing your neck, up to your ear, and licking the spot right behind it gently before murmuring, “Come for me, beautiful.”

You shatter.

Flames lick along every nerve ending, and you shove Jack as deeply into you as possible when your high hits you. Wailing his name, you grip his hair, your cunt gushing and contracting against his length, and that’s enough to push Jack over the edge with you, your name tumbling off his lips in a whimper as he buries himself deep and empties his seed into the condom. 

Waves crashing together, the wheel of fate bringing you two to each other. He is meant for you, and you for him.

You both come back into your bodies, breathing heavily with your faces nuzzled against each other. Jack kisses your lips gently, and you part them to allow a deeper kiss to blossom. Slowly, languidly, your tongues dance, lips press and pull. With the tiniest peck, the two of you separate, and Jack brings his hands to cup your face gently, fingertips stroking your soft skin. His eyes shine like the sea on a sunny day, and you see golden flecks catch the light from your bedside lamp. 

“You’re so perfect,” he murmurs, mesmerized.

You huff a laugh. “Hardly,” you reply, “but I feel like we’re perfect for each other, no?” Jack nods.

“Perfectly suited for each other,” he agrees. “You are my fire, and I am your ocean. You motivate me to push myself and our business further, and keep my passions burning.”

“And you go with the flow, move with the tides, helping me get through rough waters,” you mutter sweetly at him, kissing his strong, aquiline nose. You both sit and absorb each other’s presence, soaking in the new stage of your relationship.

“Where do we go from here?” you whisper to Jack. Your lover, your confidante, your partner in business - and now, in life.

“I don’t quite know what our future holds, sugar,” Jack responds, kissing your forehead, “but where your heart is, there I will be also.”

a/n part 2: Thank you for reading! Below I've included the brief that Erin wrote about Ægir, as well as some details/inspo from the fic. Disclaimer: I am not inherently familiar with Norse mythology or traditions, so apologies if there's anything that is off-base!

-- Beers are inspired by Allagash Brewing's saison and seasonal Ski House Wheat.

-- The winter holiday party decorations are inspired by traditional Norse decorations for Yule.

-- The "wheel of fate" and the last line Jack says are a nod to traditional Norse wedding vows.

-- For Erin's Frith Challenge, Thor was assigned to Pero Tovar, and Tyr was assigned to Ezra.

God: Ægir  Character: Jack Daniels / Agent Whiskey

God of the sea and brewing ale. A Jotun (which translates to “devour” or “consume”, despite being connected to “giant” more often), suggesting that he would devour or consume the ships that would sink into the sea, and his wife, Rán (the death goddess of the sea), would consume the men upon the ships.

“The brother of air and fire”. Father of 9 daughters, who themselves are the waves. Not only represents the sea, but also personifies it. Symbolizes the strength and power of the ocean, so many view him as a great warrior.

Framed as a terrible and devouring Jotun, he’s also a welcoming host. It’s said that Thor and Tyr would visit to have some of Ægir’s ale, and every winter, the gods would come to feast in his hall. This makes him a great match for Rán, the caretaker of those who died at sea, as his hospitality would be extended to them through Rán. This could be seen one of two ways: that either the dead would reside in their hall, or that they would rest there until they were ready to move on.

The sea was seen as a source of great wealth, since sailors would find treasure through industry, trade or plunder. Gold itself was referred to as “Ægir’s Fire”, because he “lights his hall with gold in his hearth”. He’s wealthy, but he shares that wealth as he entertains his guests.

However, he sort of wanted to get out of being the gods’ host. He said he’d do it on the condition that they find a big enough cauldron to account for the amount of ale he’d have to make, since the gods liked to party so much.

To follow Ægir is to be hospitable to those who enter your hold seeking comfort.

Offerings: Ocean/water iconography. Gold. Fire/flames. Ale/alcohol.

Tags for those who may be interested: @mountainsandmayhem @alltheirdamn @sin-djarin @nerdieforpedro @mermaidgirl30 @missredherring @morallyinept @qveerthe0ry @guiltyasdave @almostfoxglove @almostempty @schnarfer @kedsandtubesocks @djarinmuse @agentmarcuspike @gasolinerainbowpuddles @yopossum

[theinquisitxor]

2025 Anticipated Book Releases

I have a number of anticipated book releases for 2025, but not as many as last year I think. Which is kinda good, because I can work on reading what I have on my physical tbr and backlist tbr too. I love new releases, but I need time to read other stuff too!

January:

Breath of the Dragon by Fonda Lee and Shannon Lee (Jan 7th): YA asian fantasy with dragons, featuring a martial arts tournament. I'll read anything by Fonda Lee I think, and this seems fun!

Adrift in Currents Clean and Clear (Wayward Children 10) by Seanan McGuire (Jan 7th): I think this is the last book? I remember reading somewhere that Seanan said it's only going to be 10 books? Either way, I'll cry when it's over.

Motheater by Linda H. Codega (Jan 21st) this seems to be some sort of witchy queer appalachian folklore story, and I am all here for it. I want all the rural gothic vibes please.

Carving Shadows into Gold by Brigid Kemmerer (Jan 28th) I've been waiting for the sequel to Spinning Silver into Stars for a while now, and I'm super excited to finally get this. I might need to reread book 1 in January

February:

Black Woods, Blue Sky by Eowyn Ivey (Feb 4th): I've been waiting for a new Eowyn Ivey book for years, and we're getting a beauty and the best retelling set in Alaska that is literary fiction/magical realism, I couldn't be happier

Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales (Emily Wilde 3) by Heather Fawcett (Feb 11th), one of my most anticipated releases of the year, and the final book to one of my favorite on-going series. A lot of people are excited for this one.

March:

Fable for the End of the World by Ava Reid (March 4th): I'll read everything Ava Reid writes, and this is her first queer dystopian book. The covers are beautiful, and I need to read Lady Macbeth before this comes out!

Oathbound (Legendborn 3) by Tracy Deonn (March 4th) Another one of my most anticipated releases of the year. Legendborn is just fantastic, and I would consider taking the day off of work just to start reading this

Wild Dark Shore by Charlotte McConaghy (March 4th) A mystery thriller set on an island near Antartica, with nature and climate themes like McConagly's other books. I need to read her Once there were wolves before this comes out

May:

The Sun Blessed Prince by Lindsey Byrd (May 1st), this looks like a queer fantasy and characters who have life/death powers. Seems like something I'd be interested in.

The Incandescent by Emily Tesh (May 13th) A queer dark academia book about the director of a magical school.

The Knight and the Moth by Rachel Gillig (May 20th) I wasn't a huge fan of Gillig's other book, but I'm 100% willing to give this a try. A heretic knight and a prophetess must team up to save her missing sisters. The cover is beautiful too.

June:

The Tower of the Tyrant by JT Greathouse (June 19th) This seems like the start of a new epic fantasy about a sorceress going on a quest. I'm interested in this author's other published books too.

A Far Better Thing by HG Parry (June 17th): I'll read anything Parry writes, and this a portal fantasy during the French Revolution.

The Listeners by Maggie Stiefavter (June 3rd), Maggie's first adult book, and historical fiction set in Appalachia during ww2.

Second half of 2025 or Release Date to be determined:

While the Dark Remains by Joanna Ruth Meyer

Hot Wax by ML Rio

Hemlock and Silver by T Kingfisher

A Land So Wide by Erin Craig

Katabasis by RF Kuang

That's all for now! Release dates are susceptible to change, and there will probably be more books I add over the new year. If you comments/thoughts please share them with me!

[sordezos]

Farewell promise II

Soo this is the second part! hope you like it!

Word count: 2232

Warnings: bit of angst, happy ending tho

Thanks @wososapologist for the amazing ideas!! x

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You open your eyes a minute after trying to relax yourself. You finally turn the engine off and turn your head to the right, logo big enough to make you realize again what you were doing here.

After Ingrid’s departure, you spent one year more at Wolfsburg, but it wasn’t the same, so when an offer from Chelsea appeared, you accepted without hesitation. It was known that you were rather a private person and not so talkative in public, but you and Guro hit it off instantly, become close friends after a few weeks. Time passed, you won your place at the starting squad along with a few titles and being recognized as one of the best wingers.

Your family used to tell you at every call that you had everything: friends, a good job with a good pay and at the peak of your career. At first, you agreed, not even thinking about that person that was on the back on your mind. So every time they asked when you were going to get a boyfriend you just laughed and waved them off, changing the topic after.

If someone asked Guro about your love life, she wouldn’t know what to say. Yes, she has seen you going on dates arranged by her and Erin, but every time you came back, excitement about a second date was never present, you just said the same thing: “We didn’t connect” or “He was nice, but I don’t think we hit it off” and went to prepare dinner. Usually, after you came back the three of you would have dinner and watch some movies. It was there when Guro noticed the way you would fidget with the bracelet placed on your wrist. But she didn’t push it, if you wanted to talk, she would give you all the time you needed.

The season came to an end and a decision had to be made. After Chelsea won the league, offers started to rain, and after talking with your agent about each one, both of you decided for a change. After signing up the contract you went to your shared apartment and shared the news with Guro.

You could tell that she was sad, but the encouraging comments made you think that you did the correct decision. It wasn’t until you were in your bed that you started to overthink, was it a hasty decision? It's true that it was the highest offer by far, but you weren’t sure about a lot of things. Well, about one thing, were you ready to see her again? Will she be happy or mad? Will things be the same? Before you could think more, exhaustion caught up to you and sleep consumed you until the morning.

After the official announcement was made, you went to a goodbye party organized by your now ex-teammates. While the driver got you to your new house after the flight, you took your phone to see the ton of messages from a few of your new teammates. You would lie if you say that disappointment didn’t cross your face when that teammate didn’t send a message.

So now you’re here, sit in your car and looking at the giant FC Barcelona logo on the building on your right, checking the time in order to not be late. Today you and Ona Battle were about to start your season at Barcelona, both looking for a change from the London weather.

The two of you have played together at national team camp, so you were good friends, and that’s why when she knocked of your window and smiled at you that you smiled back and got out of the car.

“Qué tal guapa? Con ganas de empezar?” (What’s up? Eager to start?) she asks you jumping on your back as soon as you get out, happiness radiating from her, so you can’t help it but laugh and take your training bag out of the car “Claro que si, te vas a bajar?” (Of course, but are you going to get down?) you say while you start walking “No” is all she says as she tightens her grip and laugh.

Upon entering the changing room you are meet by cheering and applause, your national teammates happy that the two of you are finally playing with them and not against them. They all hug Ona, and they all hug you, except one person. You sit in your assigned place next to Claudia and Patri, and they instantly start to talk to you about something and not wanting to think too much about her, you join the conversation, taping your wrist at the same time and head to the pitch a few minutes later with them.

Ingrid on the other side of the room, watches you leave and turns to Frido, already regretting not approaching to you a few minutes before. Her friend looks at her confused, and before she can ask any questions, Ingrid takes her hand get them out of the room, heading to the pitch. On their way there, Ingrid explains to her all, and by the time she has finished they are already at the pitch doing some paired drills. Frido takes her wrist taking a better look to the special bracelet and before Ingrid can ask her, Frido starts to scold her for not talking to you before.

From the other side of the pitch you see as she takes Ingrid’s hand rather confused, have you read things wrong? Where they something before and you haven’t seen it? Thankfully Patri seems to read your mind, because the next thing she does is explain to you about what happened between Mapi and Ingrid and the aftermath of it, telling you about how Ingrid ended things because she said that she feel things for other person, and before she could tell you anything about said person, the whistle blew and the team got prepared for a practice match.

To your luck, you were put in the same team as Ingrid, and both of you stood there, a few meters apart. Not knowing what to say, should you say something about what happened back there? Say that you’re sorry for her breakup? You finally decided on your words, so you turned around to look at her, just to find that she was looking at you. You finally opened your mouth only for the both to talk at the same time. A laugh came out from your mouth and Ingrid could feel the feelings that she has tried to put down for years coming to the surface at once. Before you could ask her why she looked serious the whistle let all of you know that the match was on, so you turned around and gave your best on the grass.

1 goal and two assists is what you get by the time practice has finished. Making your way to the water bottles you receive several congratulations from your teammates, more than one highlighting how you and Ingrid seems to read each other’s mind with your passes.

You finally go back to the changing rooms along Marta and Alexia, talking about strategies for the next match, taking the tape off your wrist and giving your opinion on a few plays. What you didn’t see is how Frido and Ingrid were behind, and Ingrid was listening to her teammate about the plan that she made for her in order to win you again. Ingrid herself building up the courage to talk to you after all the team left the locker room.

Taking your time on the shower, trying to get rid of your already sore muscles you hear the changing room door opening and closing, thinking it was the last teammate leaving, therefore you thought you were the only one left.

As you get dressed up and exit the showers, you're surprised to find Ingrid waiting for you by your locker. You send her a smile, and she smiles back looking more… relaxed?

But there's something different about Ingrid now—she seems more confident, more self-assured. And as you study her face, you can't help but notice the subtle changes that time has wrought. It's clear she's grown since you last saw her, both as a player and as a person.

Meanwhile, Ingrid studies your face and doesn’t fall to notice how now you are a bit taller than her, how you have let your hair grow longer, and how you seem more mature, looking at a small scar that you had since you were little just above your eyebrow.

Ingrid's eyes twinkle mischievously as she catches you staring, and she smirks teasingly. “Like what you see?” she quips, her tone playful.

You roll your eyes, unable to resist teasing her right back. “Please, I've seen better,” you retort, earning a mock offended gasp from Ingrid.

It seems like the right moment, so you decide to offer your condolences about her breakup with Mapi, not wanting to intrude.

Ingrid's expression flickers with a hint of sadness before she offers a small smile. “Yeah, we broke up,” she admits, her voice tinged with regret. “I realized I still had feelings for someone else.”

Your heart skips a beat at her words, a glimmer of hope sparking within you. Could it be...?

You catch the subtle shift in Ingrid's demeanor, the way her eyes search yours for understanding. You don’t know from where the confidence came from, but with a teasing grin, you nudge her playfully. “Oh, so you finally realized you couldn't live without me, huh?”

Ingrid laughs, a sound that you wouldn't mind listening to every day. “Something like that,” she teases back, her eyes dancing with mischief.

As you continue to chat, Ingrid's gaze drifts to the bracelet adorning your wrist—the same bracelet she gave you years ago before she left. Her expression softens, and she reaches out to touch it gently, her fingers tracing the familiar pattern.

“I can't believe you still have this,” she murmurs, her voice filled with affection.

You shrug nonchalantly, trying to hide the warmth that spreads through you at her touch. “What can I say? It's a good luck charm.”

Ingrid smiles, a genuine smile that reaches her eyes. “Well, it certainly seems to be working,” she says softly, her gaze lingering on yours.

Is when she let go of your hand that you notice her bracelet. “And what do we have here?” you ask her now taking her hand in yours.

She just smiles and shrugs “What can I say? I have excellent taste in jewelry.”

Your laughter fills the room, a melodic sound that sends shivers down her spine. “ Well, I can't argue with that, princesa” you quip, your eyes sparkling with affection.

Then, in a bold move that takes you by surprise, Ingrid asks if you'd like her to show you around the city.

As Ingrid's words hang in the air, the tension between you becomes palpable. Your hidden feelings under the surface threatening to scape at any moment.

Without a word, you step closer, your hands finding their way to Ingrid's waist, pulling her gently towards you. Ingrid's eyes widen slightly in surprise at the sudden intimacy, but she doesn't pull away. Instead, her hand finds the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as she draws you closer.

The kiss is hesitant at first, a tentative exploration of emotions long suppressed. But as the seconds pass, it deepens. Your heart pounds in your chest as you lose yourself in the taste and feel of Ingrid's lips against yours.

When you finally pull back, breathless and exhilarated, Ingrid's eyes are filled with a mixture of wonder and longing. You can see the uncertainty lingering in her gaze, a silent question waiting to be answered.

 “So, is that a yes?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper, her fingers still tracing patterns on your skin.

“Well, I don't know,” you say, feigning uncertainty. “I've heard you're a bit rusty when it comes to giving tours. Might need a more experienced guide.”

Ingrid rolls her eyes playfully, a smirk playing on her lips. “Oh, please. I practically wrote the guidebook on this city,” she retorts, her tone teasing.

As Ingrid's fingers continue to trace patterns on your skin, you can't help but tease her in return, savoring the playful banter that has always been there between the two of you.

 “Well, in that case,” you say, a mischievous twinkle in your eyes, “I suppose I'll have to take my chances with the self-proclaimed expert guide.”

Ingrid chuckles softly, her smirk widening into a grin. “You won't regret it, elsking” she assures you, her voice laced with amusement.

With a playful grin, you lean in once more, capturing her lips in another sweet kiss. When you finally pull back, you can't help but laugh. “We have a lot of lost time to make up for, don't we cariño?” you remark, a hint of teasing in your voice.

Ingrid's eyes sparkle with amusement as she nods, a playful glint in her gaze. “Oh, definitely,” she replies, her tone filled with promise. “But I have a feeling we'll have no trouble catching up.”

And before you know it, you are hand in hand walking towards your car and talking about the movie you are going to see tonight.

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I just hope ya'll liked it, if you have any request feel free to tell me!

Any ideas for the next one?

[erinwantstowrite]

ERIN i cannot believe you are a fan of twisted wonderland too, you have feed me once again with your beautiful art thank you so much 🛐🛐

But who are your favorite tw characters?? And how do you think other batfam members would do in yuu's situation?

i love Twisted Wonderland!! in a sense that I ignore the Mickey Mouse plotline because what even is going on there LMFAO

It's so hard to choose a fav cause they're all so stinky and I adore the idiots so much,,, but my rankings are: Ace and Deuce for 1st place, Grim for second, Ruggie for third, Epel and Kalim for fourth, and Malleus for fifth. And this is if I HAVE to choose. the rest of them are so silly that I can not be contained. I need to torment Azul and shake him around <3

Tim would thrive the MOST in Twisted Wonderland, but we know how I feel about that by now. As for the others... I'm assuming we're going with them but when they were the same age as the first years in Twisted Wonderland (cause it's a school). In all of these scenarios, Crowley does not stand a chance. Also they all steal Grim.

Bruce isn't Batman yet when he's that young, but he's certainly just as crazy as he'll be in his twenties-fourties, maybe even MORE so because he doesn't have the experience of training yet. After figuring out that this isn't a hallucination or weird altered state that he's in (coma, spell, etc), he'd be an unbending force that gives them all a run for their money. He's incredibly smart and I doubt he'd be willing to put up with any bullshit that gets pulled. He would manage to get himself home and refuse to make any friends... but he would probably grow soft for Grim, Ace, and Deuce. Grim because Yuu takes care of Grim, and we all know how Bruce is about adoption. Same for Ace and Deuce, they're so stupid that Bruce would end up worrying about them 24/7. His paranoia about keeping them safe would prevent Azul getting a contract with them, etc etc.

Dick when he was Robin? He's terrorizing Crowley the entire time, with a smile on his face. He's so strong willed that anytime Crowley tries to put him into a situation where Crowley gets to fake being nice and magnanimous without actually helping, Dick calls him out and forces him into actually doing something, lest everyone see how he really is. (They know already but Crowley would try to save face.) He'd make friends with everyone- he'd tame Grim pretty fast and probably see it as an exercise to teach him how to be more patient. Honestly, Grim's temperament would remind Dick of himself when he was just starting off as Robin. It'd be like having a little brother and when Dick isn't stuck angsting about some shit Bruce pulled when being emotionally stunted, he's a good big brother. He'd make friends, but he wouldn't tell them anything about himself, keeping it close to his chest. Secret identities, and all that. Dick would also get himself home very fast, not willing to make B wait long. Plus he really missed Alfred.

He would try to steal Grim though. He would probably succeed, actually. All he'd have to do is tell Grim about the world he's from and how he knows magic users far beyond the level of the teachers at this school who could use a new student, and Grim would likely accept.

For Jason, when he was Robin, he was the sunshine kid. This would be after he's mellowed out with Bruce, when he's started to accept his life with B and Alfred, and started to grow into his own as Robin. They would all mistake his willingness to help as weakness, but Jason can be just as stubborn and clever as any other Robin. It's in their blood. He wouldn't be willing to let them talk down to him- he's used to people looking down on him because of where he comes from. The big fancy schools at home think he's trash from the bad parts of Gotham, and here isn't really any different. They think he can't get by without magic? Boy, will Jason sure show them. He's Robin.

I have a feeling that this, combined with Jason's love of school, would mean that Jason gets a little sidetracked with learning about this world, magic, and history, etc. He and Grim butt heads a lot, but Jason would get protective over him. Jason took care of the kids younger than him before, and his Robin is known for the comfort and kindness he shows.

He, too, would not make B wait a long time for him to come back. He's not as much of a detective as Batman or Nightwing, but he's clever enough to get himself home because of what he's learned. He would also steal Grim. In this scenario, it'd been a long time since anyone had cared about Grim the way Jason does about him. He'd come even without the speech about magic in Jason's world.

Tim... is the only Robin who'd make Batman wait. Not even out of a sense of being an ass about it, Tim would just thrive in Twisted Wonderland. He'd play up a role of being a "damsel in distress" or being silly and carefree and clumsy, etc etc. All the while Tim has been picking apart this mystery in front of him and he's got it all figured out. He's having a blast. It's Batman that comes to get him, and Tim probably wasn't expecting that, but, hey! Batman came to get him!

Damian. Holy shit is he a force to be reckoned with. He gets under everyone's skins, he doesn't bother hiding in plain sight, he demands to be treated the way he deserves. He's the son of Talia al Ghul and Bruce fucking Wayne. You try to put him in Ramshackle and he'll gut you with his sword for the disrespect. I think it'd be funny if Damian was like "this distasteful chandelier was only worth a billion of your currency?" and ADeuce try to kill him. Eventually they get along in the most hilarious way, but they're constantly fighting. Damian takes charge of their group, naturally, but he finds himself on equal footing with ADeuce at some point because they're from Twisted Wonderland and help him fill in the gaps of his knowledge. He's also studious (the PhD thing) and Deuce would ask for his help. Ace would get roped into it.

The only one that he gets along with? Grim. Because he's a cat with fire powers. Damian would think he's so fucking cool, he basically has a fuzzy little dragon. That can fit in his bed and cuddle with him and can talk. Come on. What 14 year old like Damian wouldn't think that's the sickest shit ever? He'd demand only the best for Grim, but would also easily start shaping him up to be a better mage. No, not better- the best. Damian would understand Grim's desire to find his legacy.

And, like, here's the thing. Even with all of that... Damian is a very empathetic kid. If he's about freshman year-aged, he'd be, what, 14? I think? That's after he started letting himself be more empathetic. After he lost his dad for a year and learned to be Robin because of Dick. Literally no one would expect Damian to be understanding or listen to the prefects' insecurities or hurt, nor willing to talk to them about it. But he does. He also hands their asses to them when they fight, but while that's happening, Damian is talking to them.

He steals Grim whether he wants to or not. But Grim does want to go with him.

This got WAYYY longer than I expected it to but this got me to thinking and we know I love to yap. I'd add Stephanie, Duke, Cass, Babs, etc, but I don't want this to get too long.

[areyouwell]

Necrophobia

Noun: An extreme and irrational fear of death. Those with this condition will do anything to avoid their own death or the death of somebody they love. But in the end, death is inevitable.

Ch.8, Ch.7, Ch.6, Ch.5.5, Ch.5, Ch.4, Ch.3, Ch.2, Ch.1 <–

Ch.9

Pairing: Mutant!Reader x Logan Howlet

Warnings: strap in and strap on folks, it's gonna be a long one... MDNI

Word Count: 29.7k (y'all wanted this as one chapter sooooo)

A/N: i actually can't believe this is it. like, this is the end of Phobophobia... how crazy is that? thank you all so much for the love and support on this series, it's been a while since i got back into fic writing so it means so much that you've all been reading along. i read and cherish every single one of your comments and reblogs, and now the only thing left to say is LET'S. FUCKING. GO.

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

It would be two days later before you and Morgana could convince Erin there was no threat here, and that she was safe. Another day for her to be comfortable enough to let Charles come anywhere near her, let alone bring her memories back. 

“Give her time, darlin’. She’s terrified.” Logan would remind you, only to fuel your frustration. You didn’t have time. You needed her help to get Rowan and the others back, and the longer she refused to restore her memories, the more danger he was in. 

You sighed heavily after the umpteenth time Logan reminded you, leaning on the balcony overlooking the gardens. He’d found you pacing back and forth, clearly trying to remind yourself that Erin was just how you were before you had your memories. She was scared and alone and you didn’t know how to convince her she wasn’t. Erin was never your speciality. Atlas usually could get through to her, but he was still with Kreva, like Rowan, Joes and Naji.

Logan took his position by your side, leaning his forearms against the stone wall of the balcony, his bicep brushing against yours as you leaned your head on his shoulder, exhaling a breath. “I know she is. We all were. But fuck, this is taking too long, Lo’. We haven’t even started planning for the mission and it’s already been too long. I just…” you trailed off, gazing into the middle distance as your mind wandered back to your brother. He would always seem so big and protective outside the experiments, but you couldn’t count how many times you had to act out to protect him when the white, overhead lights hummed to life in those observation chambers. How many times had you taken the hits for him, just for him to be used against you as persuasion? 

Logan’s arm lifted to wrap around your shoulders, tucking you safely into his side. “I know, but Kreva won’t kill him. If anything, he’ll use him as bait to lure you back.” The idea had his stomach churning, because there was very little that could convince you to return other than to save Rowan, and he was almost certain that’s why Kreva sent Joes to retrieve just him. Because the bastard knew you wouldn’t leave him behind. He knew you’d go back for him. If it was just Naji, Joes and Atlas, perhaps you would trust their rescue to the rest of the team. But Rowan was your brother. Your flesh and blood. He’d been with you since the start.

You weren’t going to abandon him. Everyone knew that. 

“Would you lock me away if I said it would work?” You asked with a half-hearted smile, and he pressed a lingering kiss to your temple, rubbing his hand against your shoulder. 

“Most likely.” He responded, revelling in your little bubbles of laughter. Just the weight of his arm around you was enough to ease some of the anxiety that had been your constant companion since waking up, the ever-present fear of what was going on beyond the walls of the school keeping you up at night. But Jade was right about one thing. 

You weren’t alone. Not anymore. Almost every waking moment Logan was by your side, keeping a watchful eye and jumping at the opportunity to provide for you. His warm embrace kept you sane even into the wee hours of the morning, never failing to stay awake with you when you had trouble sleeping. And these last few nights hadn’t been the most restful of your life. 

He could see it. Just how exhausted you were. You still had to regain the muscle you’d lost in the last two months, but that wasn’t what concerned him most. It was the dark purple bruises beneath your eyes that had him staying up with you, stroking your hair and engaging in murmured conversations until you’d finally fall asleep. Only to wake up an hour or so later, and take yet another lifetime to fall back asleep, by which point it was already morning and time for the two of you to start the day.

It was how he’d spent the last two nights with you, with you settled against his chest, staring at nothing in particular, talking about absolutely anything. It was a delicious slice of normalcy, certainly, but it worried him how little you were sleeping. And how hard you were training to get back to your muscular physique of before. He hadn’t seen you cook once, either. Though he supposed it had only been a few days, and it wasn’t like you had buckets of time to spare, between your lack of sleep, nutrition and overexerting yourself…

He didn’t really know what to do. What issue to tackle first. 

“You think any louder and Charles is gonna wonder what the hell’s going on,” you prodded lightly, nudging his side with your elbow. “How’re you holding up? We’ve spoken a shit ton about me but now it’s your turn,” Logan opened his mouth to tell you it didn’t matter, but you instantly cut him off, a glare sharpening your typical gaze of adoration. “And don’t lie. I mean it, Lo’. Let me in.” You placed a hand on the centre of his chest and he sighed heavily, clutching it in his own calloused palm.

“No lies?” He asked with a raised brow as if asking whether or not you really wanted this.

“No lies.” Your determined nod solidified that you were there for him, that you wanted to know how he was doing in the vague, possibly slightly selfish hope that it would make you feel a little better, or that perhaps there was a way you could help in some way, which would also make you feel better. 

“Total honesty?”

“Logan!”

“Okay, okay,” he huffed a laugh at your incredulous tone. He was stalling, to be completely honest. He didn’t want to open up about how this whole thing had affected him because he was so damn scared of making you feel worse, or, god fucking forbid, that you weren’t worth it. But he also knew you couldn’t stand lies. You’d had enough of those in your life, so the one thing he could give you now was honesty. Raw, weeping honesty. “I uh– It’s rare that I’m scared of anythin’. It’s happened, sure, but not often,” he ran a hand through his hair, and your thumb smoothed soft caresses against the centre of his chest. “But I don’t think I’ve been more afraid than when I thought I’d lost you for good,” his words came out a jumbled, murmured mess, but you caught them nonetheless. “An’ this ain’t over yet. We gotta go back for the others and ‘m fuckin’ terrified it’s a trap.”

“Logan…” you breathed his name with a sigh, resting your cheek next to the hand you held over his heart. His arms encased you in a home of pine-scented sinew, warmth seeping into your very bones.

“I don’t wanna lose you.” He whispered into your hair, and your heart cracked a little.

“I can’t say you won’t, because I don’t know what’s going to happen and I don’t wanna lie to you. I don’t know what we’ll find when we go back or how things will go down,” you paused, raising your head so your chin pressed into the dip between his pectorals. “But I can say, it’s certainly not my intention to die sooooo–”

“That makes me feel so much better.” He rolled his eyes, sarcasm dripping from his tone as the vibrations of your laughter invaded his chest, causing a chain reaction within his soul. 

You let the hushed silence of the clouded late afternoon blanket the two of you, content to bask in his presence after being deprived for so long. He was everything to you. He’d been by your side ever since you’d laid eyes on each other, even if you weren’t the easiest person to get to open up. He’d forgiven you for lashing out. He’d forgiven you for trying to kill him. He’d forgiven you for everything you’d done before. You didn’t think there was anything you wouldn’t do for him, and his actions towards you proved the same. 

“Besides,” you continued after a little while, flexing your fingers ever so slightly, the shadows on the ground responding with obedience you hadn’t experienced in a long time. “I got all corners of my mutation back, so I’d like to see Kreva try anything, the sleazy little fuckstick.” From the silhouette of the balcony rose one of those figures Logan had seen you conjure in your sleep, though this time it wasn’t looking at you with any kind of intention. Rather it seemed to be waiting for your command, standing unnervingly still, shadows rising like smoke from its corporeal body. 

“That’s one less thing to worry ‘bout. Not gonna wake up to you having dissolved on me.” He shrugged, watching intently as the figure raised its hand ominously toward the two of you. Logan bristled, holding you tighter and turning you slightly, his teeth bared. He thought you had control of your mutation now, why the fuck was it–

That extended fist rotated to the side before giving him a thumbs up. 

“Gotcha.” You grinned wickedly, the figure dissipating back into the shadows and Logan looked down at you with utter disbelief, the smirking satisfaction on your face singing to his very core. Wordlessly, he picked you up, delighting in your squeal of surprise, holding you suspended above him like he would a misbehaving puppy. 

“Jail time.” Was all he said, holding you firmly as you squirmed in his grip, breathless bubbles of laughter bursting from your chest.

“Put– put me down, Logan. M’not– a dog.” You managed to gasp through fits of giggling, reaching down to hold his arms to steady yourself. 

“I could just drop ya.” He mused, unable to stem the smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

“Don’t you dare.” It was tricky to glare at him when thrilled adrenaline coursed through your system and you could barely stop laughing. Logan quirked a brow, pretending to debate whether or not it was a good idea to just let you go and watch you hit the floor, before his slight smirk grew to a full-blown grin, and his hands disappeared from your body.

You barely had a second to register your stomach launching into your throat, a frisson of excitement spiking through your system as you lurched down. Though you didn’t fall far until his arms caught you beneath your thighs, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, elbows hooked around his neck.

“Gotcha.” He mimicked your exact tone from not moments ago, and you huffed a breath against the side of his neck, still clinging on. Not out of fear he would drop you, but just because you could. You were here, you were back, and you remembered every perfect detail of the eight months you’d spent with him before Kreva snatched you away.

Withdrawing from the side of his neck, you brushed a stray dark hair from his forehead, glowing as he leant into your touch, your hand sliding to cup the side of his face, fingers gently scratching through his beard, drinking in every peak and valley of his features, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the quirk of his lips, the pinch of his brows. You devoured his visage as if it were the first time you laid eyes upon him. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He murmured, and you felt your heart swell three times its size. You didn’t know just how badly you’d missed him. Only since waking up again did you feel an empty ache in your chest in the rare moments he wasn’t by your side, only feeling whole again when he returned. It was overwhelming, your sheer love for him, your insides squeezing to make room for the remarkable amount of adoration you held for him. 

Logan panicked slightly when your eyes started to sparkle with unshed tears, fearful he may have said the wrong thing, or something that reminded you of the two months with him you’d just lost, but his heart settled when your lips moulded against his, your thumb smoothing his cheekbone with every languid movement. He held you tighter, his arms crushing you against his body as if at any moment he’d wake up, you’d be gone, and this was nothing but a dream. 

But you didn’t disappear, not as your lips parted for him and you sighed into his mouth, your arm shifting back around his neck to meet him with equal strength, your nails combing the back of his hair soothingly as if you could read his mind just as easily as Charles or Jean, feeling his fears and reminding him you were here. You were back. And you weren’t leaving him anytime soon. 

Pulling back a fraction, your breaths fanned his lips with each exhale, before your hushed words had his whole world igniting.

“I love you, Logan.” Your eyes shone with earnest as his gaze flickered between them as if searching for the indication that this really was nothing but a dream. 

He thought he’d have to die before he heard those words again. 

Fearful that his voice would crack if he responded, he set you down so he could thread his fingers through your hair and kiss you again with as much love as he felt in his soul, gasping through his nose when your fingers grazed up the sides of his ribs, muscles tensing beneath your tickling touch. 

“Sorry to interrupt your disgusting display of a happy relationship,” Logan almost growled in irritation at the sudden intrusion, reluctantly pulling away from you to raise eyes of daggers at Morgana’s smirking face, her arms folded across her chest as if she’d just caught two teenagers making out behind the bleachers at school. “But we’re gonna try again with Erin, not to convince her of anything, just to talk to her. Need your help,” she paused, gesturing to the both of you. “If you’re all done here, that is.”

You snorted a laugh at Logan’s irate furrow of his brow, and you knew it was taking a lot of his self-control not to bare his damn teeth at her. You placed a placating hand against the centre of his chest, feeling is heartbeat settle a tad before nodding to the redhead. “Sure thing. I’ll be right there.”

Satisfied with your answer, Morgana cast one last faux disgusted glance in the minimal space between you and Logan, before turning on her heel, her hair bouncing as she returned back inside. 

“The hell you will,” he seethed, his grip shifting from the side of your neck to your waist, holding you tightly. You flashed him a crooked smile, patting his chest gently.

“I doubt it’ll be a long conversation. Besides, I’ll see you for dinner, kay?”

“You’ll see me before dinner, darlin’.” 

“Is that a threat or a promise?” Your smile twisted into something a lot more mischievous, and Logan almost groaned aloud at the thought of what he’s now definitely going to do to you later.

“Why can’t it be both?” He responded, matching the lust dusting your tone. You bit your tongue behind your teeth, taking a step back before you cracked beneath his gaze and offered yourself to him then and there.

“You’re filthy, Howlett.”

“You love it.”

With a subdued chuckle, you turned away from him intending to follow Morgana to help her with Erin, before Logan’s broad hand wrapped around your wrist and tugged you back into him, not even giving you time to blink before his lips were on your in a lingering, passionate kiss. 

“I love you too.” He whispered, and you didn’t even try to tame your smile before he let you go, choosing to stay out in the fresh air a little longer, mainly to cool himself off. You had such a gift in riling him up that it was always difficult to hold himself back when he couldn’t have his way with you, so he opted to remain outside, erasing the risk of following you and throwing you over his shoulder to take you upstairs. 

“See you in a bit.” You pecked the corner of his mouth briefly before actually managing to get more than two steps away from him, the buzz of anticipation fading in your veins as you headed back through the doors inside, only half expecting him to race after you and do exactly what he promised.

“Surprised I could pull you away from your man for longer than three seconds.” Morgana grinned as you strode down the hallway, seeing her waiting outside Erin’s room, leaning against the doorframe with her arms still folded. You rolled your eyes dramatically.

“We’re not joined at the hip, but I was robbed of the last two months with him so excuse me if I’m a little clingy.” You shot her a faux glare, cut short by the way her face split with a toothy grin. 

“I’m messing with you. It’s real nice actually. I only ever saw snippets of you like this with Jade before you’d revert back to whatever emotionless shell you needed to be so I’m not complaining. Just jealous he got there before I did,” she winked and you slapped her arm with a light chuckle. 

This was the usual dynamic between you and Morgana, having lighthearted, occasionally flirty banter whilst living your ‘lives’ until you’d be taken for experiments. It was rare Kreva would take the both of you, but when he did, you always gave him one hell of a fight back. 

Maybe that was why he would usually separate the two of you. “So,” you continued, leaning opposite her against the doorframe. “What’s the plan this time? Since the last fifty conversations with her haven't worked, you got a new special approach? Or is this just gonna be failure number fifty-one?” 

Morgana placed a hand on her heart dramatically, her mouth falling agape as if you’d just insulted her meticulously preened appearance. “Okay, first of all, we’ve only tried like, what, five times max? Second of all, did you really think I’d drag you from your boyfriend for no reason and risk waking up with several claws stuck in my stomach? Fuck no. Of course I have a plan…” She paused, and you narrowed your eyes suspiciously. “Or… I will have a plan. When I think of one.”

“Morgo…” you sighed tiredly, dragging a hand down the side of your face. 

“Look, I can’t do this by myself. If Atlas was here, we could just hand this whole thing over to him and be done with it. But he’s not here, and we need Erin’s help to get him back. And Rowan. And Naji and Joes. And we don’t exactly have a cheat code when it comes to her like we did with you.”

“The fuck do you mean ‘cheat code’?” you asked defensively, a little insulted at the way she looked at you as if it was obvious. “Oh Logan is not a cheat code, that’s so unfair!” you protested avidly, pouting when she gave you another one of her looks. 

“We can talk about your complete lack of self-awareness at a later date,” you had half the mind to slap the girl. “And about the fact you somehow managed to back one of the most gorgeous men I’ve ever seen in my life. Your descriptions did not do him justice, by the way.” She wiggled her brows and you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Can you stop thirsting over my partner, please?”

“What’s sex with him like?”

“Morgo!”

“Okay okay, I’ll stop,” she held her hands up in surrender, though her wicked grin didn’t fade in any way. “Fucking gatekeeping, so mean. Throw a girl a bone here… literally.”

“Oh my god.” You groaned, pushing up from the wall to slap your hand over her mouth. Unfortunately, she anticipated and nimbly stepped back before you could even approach her. 

“I can hear you guys outside… if you’re going to come in just do it already,” Erin called from behind the door. The poor girl sounded utterly exhausted, and your heart broke as you imagined her inside, most likely curled up in a corner, surrounded by nothing but hard, dead wood. Useless for her mutation. 

You cast Morgana a sheepish glance, an expression she mirrored, before unlocking the door and stepping through a little hesitantly. They’d made special precautions with her the same way they had with you. A lack of windows meant she had no sightline to the copious greenery beyond the mansion’s walls. All and any plant life had been removed from the room just to make absolutely certain she had no way of escape. It hurt, but you knew it was necessary. 

Necessary evils. How many times have you heard that phrase and genuinely believed it?

“Hey Woods…” Morgana uttered quietly, hoping in vain not to startle the girl. Not that either of you had even seen her yet. She seemed to be hiding somewhere amongst the furniture, or maybe under the bed. It hadn’t been the first time she’d hidden from either of you. “We don’t wanna try convince you of anything. We just wanna chat…” she continued warily, creeping around the side of the bed to where you both assumed she’d curled up. “We’re your friends, Erin. We don’t wanna– huh?”

Morgana stopped when she peered around the double bed to see nothing but empty space. You sidled into the ensuite, nudging open the door a fraction only to once again be met with nothing. “Erin, where’re you–”

You were cut off by the sound of hurrying feet behind you, the slamming of the door, and the click of the lock, barely having enough time to whirl around before you registered your absolute idiocy. 

“You’re fucking joking…” Morgana spat, crossing back to the door Erin had just locked behind her. “Very funny Woods, glad to see you’re feeling better. Now let us out.” She huffed, trying not to let her irritation seep through her voice. Though nothing but silence greeted her from the other side. Morgana tugged at the door a few times, but the oak refused to yield. Defeatedly, she took a step back, throwing you an apologetic glance, before her foot collided with the centre of the panels.

“Fucking ow!” She recoiled to your inappropriate amusement. She shot you a look darker than before. “I’m not the brawler okay? I don’t tackle shit as strong as this.” 

Rolling your eyes skyward, you flicked off the light switch before placing a hand on her shoulder wordlessly. Morgana’s eyes widened as panic flooded her face. “Nononono I hate it when you do this. Can’t you just sift outta here and unlock the door for me?” She pleaded, already skittish before you’d even partially dragged her into the shadow with you.

“Nope. Don’t have the time. It’ll only be two seconds. Promise.” You actually had no idea how long it was going to be, seeing as most of the mansion was drenched it light around this time of the afternoon, but you knew which room this was. And you knew the room above it. 

And it was rare that the room had much light in it at all. 

Not giving her a word of warning, you kept a firm grip on her shoulder as you pulled the both of you into the shadows, pulling on the strings of darkness to keep her consciousness with your own.

With the corporeal world nothing but the stark contrast between light and shadow, you felt your way upwards, through the little cracks between the ceiling and the floor above, weaving up through the crevices in the floorboards. You weren’t expecting the room to have so little options for where to materialise again, your consciousness writhing with the surprise of the bedside lamp being on. But you chose the dark corner by the wardrobe, pulling both yourself and Morgana through the various shadows across the floor and into the sizeable darkness against the wall. 

“Jesus Christ!” 

The last Logan had heard, you’d followed Morgana in the hopes of convincing Erin she wasn’t in any danger here. So he couldn’t contain the shock you gave him when you melted into his room from the corner, a dishevelled-looking redhead by your side. Were you trying to kill him? 

“Nope, just me. Sorry Lo’, didn’t mean to scare ya.” Though from the subdued grin pulling at your lips, he knew you definitely found no small amount of amusement in taking him off guard. 

You managed to suppress your light chuckle at his incredulous expression, choosing instead to tend to your friend who seemed to be struggling majorly with a bad case of motion sickness.

“Ugh… I don’t understand how you do that so often… I think I’d off myself if that was my mutation…” she managed to grit, holding her stomach as if she was about to throw up. You pointed her toward the bathroom just in case as Logan stood from his extremely comfortable position on his bed.

“Though you were talkin’ some sense into Erin. What went wrong?” His first instinct was that, immediately upon entering the room, Erin had most likely thrown something at the two of you and you’d retreated to rethink a strategy.

Though the silence after his query was deafening.

“She uh, she got out.”

Oh. Nevermind. This was a deafening silence. Logan swore he could hear your blood cells in your veins the room fell so quiet. “Whaddya mean ‘she got out’?” 

“Oldest trick in the book. One of the ones I tried and failed on you. Told us to come in, hid behind the door and bolted when we were far enough in the room.” You explained flatly, lifting Morgana’s hair from the back of her neck in an attempt to stem her queasiness. 

Logan swore lowly, instinctively checking you for injuries despite the fact you’d just reformed yourself from the shadow. He couldn’t stop himself. “Does Charles know?”

“The whole mansion will know in a moment. If she’s managed to get outside, it’s only a matter of time until–”

Almost as if Morgana was speaking the circumstance into existence, the entire room started to shake. No. Not just the room. The whole school seemed to shudder and groan, the sound of splitting wood resonating throughout the hallways and dorms, and you dragged Morgana back as a huge, knotted vine bloomed up from the corner, leaves sprouting as the vegetation started its takeover of the space. 

“Shit…” You hissed, bolting to the window and seeing the cause of the destruction. Greenery thrived around Erin, her arms outstretched towards the mansion, dolphin-fins of roots rising and resubmerging into the ground toward the building, veins of gnarled ivy spiderwebbing up the outside of the walls, sneaking in through the cracks between windowpanes and brickwork, before growing exponentially. The realisation hit you like a ton of bricks. 

She was trying to bring down the school. 

You flipped up the latch of the window before throwing open the panes and shoving your head through the leaves, your skin itching slightly as you realised it was no regular ivy. Not with the three-lobed points on most leaves, the slightly waxy texture of the surface. It was fucking poisonous. 

Of course it was.

You managed to set your jaw against the instant discomfort, pushing your way through until you could see the ground beneath. Shrouded in shadow. Good enough for you. You pulled back, only to feel a slight constriction against your throat from a snaking vine around your neck. You hissed at it tightened, flexing your tendons as if you could break free with sheer strength alone. But you succeeded only in tightening its hold, your airways becoming dangerously closed off. Thrusting your arms back through the new forest of the window, you held out your hand in desperation, instantly feeling the rough, calloused palm of Logan grasping your wrist.

You hadn’t given him time to ask what the hell you thought you were doing before you’d been completely shrouded in greenery, and the moment he saw your hand back through the expanding knots of vines, he was by your side, claws slicing through his knuckles as he started to slash and swipe at the writhing snakes. His arm wrapped around your middle, the razor tip of his claw dangerously close to your jugular as he tried to surgically remove the constraint, only to find himself being pulled in with you, itching leaves winding up his forearm and over his bicep.

Breathing became difficult, the lack of oxygen making your brain hazy and your movements slow. You felt like you were trying to inhale through a straw after running a marathon, every part of your exposed skin itching and burning from even slight contact with the leaves, red rashes already rising around your face and neck. You hadn’t really thought she’d try to kill you, or anyone for that matter. In all honesty, you saw this as a desperate attempt to stall everyone before she made a run for it. Not kill everyone inside the goddamn school. Your oxygen-starved mind sluggishly thought to the kids in their classrooms, how terrified they must be, and you fucking hoped Storm or Scott had already started evacuating them as your vision started to tunnel slightly, your mouth agape in a futile attempt to draw breath. 

“C’mon…” Logan groaned with effort as he managed to wrench his arm free of the vines, nicking the side of your shoulder with his claws as he did. He didn’t have time for the instant, overwhelming feeling of guilt before he started desperately slashing again to get you free. Silver clashed with emerald with each savage claw until a soft hand got in his way, blood splattering across the wall. 

“Fuck! Those things are fucking sharp!” Morgana cried out, scarlet leaking from the deep slice across the back of her hand. Logan looked at her as if she’d completely lost her mind. 

“The fuck’re you doing?!”

To his chagrin, she just rolled her eyes, before the rivulets of blood running down her arm started to rise and expand, weaving through the now all-consuming wall of poison, staining the beige vines deep red. In his panic, he’d completely forgotten her mutation. It was deliberate. Her getting in the way. It had been on purpose. Understanding her plan, he sheathed his claws and wrapped his other arm around your middle, his grip like steel as, all at once, a sheet of blood exploded from just beyond the window, slicing through the snaking tendrils, useless ends falling lifeless to the floor.

Like a drowned man rescued from the water, you gasped a deep inhale, feeling yourself be tugged backwards from the crimson display and into a tight embrace that was, whilst unhelpful for your breathing, extremely helpful for your panic. You’d have been humiliated if you’d survived everything Kreva had put you through only to die became Erin was too fucking stubborn for her own good. 

“Y’okay?” Logan asked, concern dripping from his voice as he smoothed your hair from your face, wincing as he caught sight of the angry rashes around your neck and across your collarbones, winding up to frame the sides of your cheeks and brow. You couldn’t stop your nails dragging across the unholy itching in an attempt to soothe it, pulling loose bits of skin as you scratched fruitlessly. 

“Shadows…” your voice was raspy, and you felt like you’d swallowed a bag of nails, a bolt of pain shooting through your vocal cords as you tried to speak again. “Need shadow.”

Logan shifted into the path of the lamp and you dissolved into his silhouette instantly, returning only a beat later looking no worse for wear, though fury furrowed your brow and had your jaw tense. 

“Y’okay?” He asked again, only this time he felt a sense of calm seeing you unhurt. Your rage intimidated him only a little, but at least you were breathing this time. 

“M’fine. Fucking bitch. The fuck does she think she’s doing?” You seethed, casting a glare out the now-covered window as if you could kill her with your mind. Morgana huffed abruptly, still in control of the stained glass made of her own blood. 

“What exactly was your plan there? Or was almost suffocating to death a way of trying to get her to see what she the consequences of her actions?” She asked savagely, sliding her now glowing eyes to you and you could feel her irritation at your actions. 

“I was trying to see if I had a quicker way down to her. And I did, until she tried to fucking kill me.” You braced your hand around your throat as if you could still feel the constrictions around your neck. 

Seeing your phantom discomfort, Logan brushed the back of his hand against the one on your throat, a silent reminder that you were safe again. You laced your fingers between his, another silent way of communicating your gratitude, before once again returning to look beyond Morgana’s barrier. 

Unspoken agreement passed between the room, Morgana leading the way as the three of you sped down the stairs, shouting to any passersby to use the passage and get the hell out of there. You almost collided into a panicking Artie, clutching a small stuffed toy in his hands as he looked around desperately for Jubilee. At least you assumed he’d be looking for Jubilee, she’d taken on the role of protector for the boy, though not being that much older herself. 

You crouched and enveloped him in a tight hug, relieved to see he was unharmed. Though through the rushing crowds, it was difficult to make out specific faces. Until a shock of white hair bobbed through the heads of students, Storm managing to fight her way through the throng and in your direction. 

“How did this happen?” She asked by way of greeting, taking Artie from your arms and tucking him into her side. Shame and guilt tightened your gut. You couldn’t help but interpret her question differently. How could you let this happen?

“She got passed us,” Morgana stepped in, placing a hand on your shoulder and no doubt feeling exactly the same as you. “We weren’t careful enough. But we’re gonna fix it. We’re gonna fix this. We just need to get out there.” She nodded to the covered window where you knew the source was. Ororo sighed gravely.

“There’s only two ways this can go. Make sure it’s option one.” Was all she said, before guiding Artie down the hall and disappearing into the thinning crowd. At least most students had managed to get out, though you could only pray none of them had touched the leaves. You clenched your jaw, Storm’s words sinking in. 

She was right. There were only two possible ways this could go. You could convince her she was safe here, and that you all really were trying to get back and rescue the others.

Or you had to kill her. 

A glance at Morgana told you she’d realised the same, her eyes staring unblinkingly at the floor as she processed what the two of you might have to do if you couldn’t get through to her. “It won’t come to that.” You tried, but it was hard to sound convincing when you weren’t entirely convinced yourself. 

But she went along with your false confidence, choosing instead to gaslight herself right alongside you. “Yeah… it won’t.”

It broke Logan’s heart to see your desperation to fix things. To see the guilt etched into the crease of your brow. Broke him further as he watch the both of you understand that you might really have to kill her. You were torn between trying to save your old family and protecting your new one, he could feel it in his own damn soul. 

You couldn’t be battling with yourself like this right now. You didn’t have the fucking time. People were getting hurt and it was your own damn fault. And the familiarity of the situation flipped something in your brain. All at once, the hesitation you’d been feeling disappeared. Concern faded away. Fear locked up. You had a damn job to do. 

“Cut through the vines like before.” You instructed Morgana, steel icing your tone as you weaved through the stragglers, making a beeline for the double doors that normally would have led out into the gardens. Only right now they led into a wall of vines. 

“I uh– yeah, s-sure.” Logan watched recognition dawn on Morgana’s features, a deep sadness flickering in her eyes as she used her fingernail to reopen the wound on the back of her hand, hissing slightly at the hurt, before blood rose from the gash and seeped beneath the door, solidifying and slicing the climbing vines at the base, creating an opening for you. 

With a flick of your wrist, eight separate figures rose from the shadows around you, gliding to your side and waiting with obedient anticipation. Logan’s stomach dropped as darkness slid up your leg, across your abdomen and settled over your face, solidifying in a glassy, thin mask. Morgana gasped weakly, shaking her head at your new visage in a way that had a kernel of concern bubble in Logan’s chest. 

“I’m sorry if I have to kill her.” There was nothing apologetic in your tone. If anything, it sounded like you were completely devoid of emotion, lacking both empathy and compassion for your best friend as you stepped through the threshold and onto the balcony, your shadows following like dogs. 

“Is this–” He started before Morgana cut him off. 

“How she was before? Yeah…” She confirmed quietly, splitting her concentration between maintaining her mutation and watching you jump nimbly from the balcony onto the grass, striding toward Erin, your shadows in tow. “This was how she coped. All those missions. All those victims. This was how she kept going. It wasn’t solid, and she would break sometimes, but she’d just get better at it. And who’s better at hiding than someone who’s made of the dark?” 

His chest constricted with the realisation that, in the relief and disbelief that he really had you back, he hadn’t truly processed everything you’d remembered. You hadn’t been given the time before you launched straight into trying to help the girl you now might have to kill. And when you released your emotions again, when you let down that wall and they all flooded in, he couldn’t stand by and watch as you relived the moment you ended her life. 

He promised he would keep you safe, and he failed. He promised he wouldn’t leave you, and he’d failed. 

But he’d promised he’d find you. And he promised he’d protect you. Even if that meant from yourself. 

“Stay here, help them in any way you can.” He told her, before following where you’d leapt from the balcony. If he could save you the emotional turmoil of having to kill Erin, he would. And if that meant he had to kill her himself and have you hate him forever, he’d be okay with that. But you’d been through enough shit, you’d been made to feel like a monster because of the things you were forced to do.

Not this time. 

“ERIN!” Your voice echoed off the trees, bouncing back to you as you strode toward her, eight smoky figures fanning out behind you, the manifestation of each member of your family. Their heads twitched skittishly as if understanding their purpose in the situation, waiting for the command to rip. To tear. To wreak havoc.

Erin’s outstretched hands faltered, her eyes focussing back to you as the snakelike roots halted, the blooming of flowers and weeds around her feet stalled. She bit back a bitter laugh.

“All this time. You’ve been tryna convince me they helped you. They saved you. But look at you. You’re worse now than when we were back with the others. You tell me Kreva did some fucked up shit to us, which I can fucking smell is bullshit,  but look at what they’ve done to you.” 

Her words fell washed over you like water from a duck’s back, ignoring every pathetic attempt to make you feel bad about what you were. You felt the pull on the threads of your puppets, felt their yearning to make her suffer for what she’d said, but you held them back, tightened their leashes until they came to heel. 

“This was always who I was, Erin. I’ve only changed from your perspective because you don’t know who you are. Who any of us are. Not really Do you really think we spent the last ten years living in harmony? Going to work, coming home, meeting the neighbours, drinking and watching movies? People like us don’t get to have that life.” You were losing patience already. If she wasn’t going to calm down and come to her senses, you’d have to neutralise the threat. The figures shuddered with excitement. 

“Do you know how fucking crazy you sound? When you’re trying to tell me the last twenty years of my life have been a lie? Naji replaced all our memories? He wouldn’t do that,” She shouted desperately, roots and vines around her feet snaking and writhing in response. “Whatever happened to the flat… what happened to Atlas… I can’t explain it. But if we go back, if we go back and just talk to whoever that was, he’ll set them free… He has to…” she pleaded, and you took a steady step forward. “That’s why I have to do this. I can’t abandon him. I have to help them, but I have to help them now. I don’t trust these people. I don’t know these people. Look what they’ve done to you. To Morgana. I can’t let them do the same to me. Not whilst he’s still in danger.”

You tensed your jaw against the sudden wave of melancholy that broke through your walls, pushing it back as hard as you could, your face falling neutral again behind the mask of shadow. “What do you think we’re trying to do here? He’s got Rowan, Erin. He’s got my fucking brother. And I know the kinds of things Kreva will do to him because I remember. That’s what we’re trying to help you to do. To remember so we can form some kind of plan. But if we have to do this without you,” You paused, raising your hand slightly. “So be it.”

Before you can flick your wrist, a large, calloused hand wrapped around your palm, stopping you in motion. 

“Don’t,” Logan growled lowly, though there was no threat in his voice. You clenched your jaw again, testing his strength only to find your wrist held fast in his grip. “This is not what we do.”

You shook your head. “No. This isn’t what you do. You wanted to know what would change when I remembered. Here it is.” You raised your other hand, quickly flicking your wrist before he could catch it, and eight figures walked forward, heads twitching as they went. 

“Call them off.”

“She’s a threat.”

“Call. Them. Off.” He urged, eyes hardening. “Now.” He could see your eyes flicker behind the mask as if something was fighting to get through. You glanced back to where Erin had crouched, arms outstretched in preparation to fight back. She was a threat. The mansion was under attack.

And it was all because of you. 

“I have to put a stop to this.” Your steely voice started to bend, cracks peaking through the shell. Logan caught it instantly, tugging on that small thread you’d left exposed.

“Not like this. You don’t wanna do it like this. Call them off, Firefly.” He heard your breathing stutter, eyes widening as the mask from your face melted away. He dropped your hand, his palm sliding up the side of your neck to cup your face, acutely aware of how close the shadows were to Erin’s location. “Not like this.” He muttered softly, and your resolve shattered. You lowered you hand, splaying your fingers as the figures dissolved into nothing, returning from their positions back up the balcony and through the door where you pulled them from. 

“I–”

“It’s okay. I know. I know.” He pulled you in, cupping the back of your held to hold you beneath his chin, his fingers coursing through your hair, a strong sense of comforting calm soothing the sudden, immense wave of guilt. 

“This is real… isn’t it?” Erin asked quietly, her own resolve seemingly breaking apart. You cracked your eyes open, pulling back ever so slightly to look at her exhausted form, nodding in confirmation. 

“Yeah. This is real. We haven’t lied to you, Erin. We wouldn’t lie to you. Not about this. Not about your life. Who you are. You’ve had enough lies told to you. And Charles can help you sift through what was real and what wasn’t. Just let us help you.” You implored, stepping from Logan’s embrace and toward her, holding out your hand in an entirely different way to before. “Please. You’re my family, Erin. Let me help you.” 

Her toxic green hair fell in front of her face as her head dropped, small sobs shaking her shoulders, and you were by her side as her knees buckled, arms around her frame before she fell to the floor. 

“It sucks. I know. We both know, me and Morgana. We know, but it gets easier. It’ll get easier once you remember. I promise.” Despite the horrors of your own past, it had gotten easier once you were restored. You knew who you were, and you’d come to terms with the things you’d done. You know Morgana had too. And you knew Erin would be the same. 

“‘Morgana and I’…” she corrected weakly, and you raised a brow.

“Huh?”

“It’s Morgana and I. ‘Not me and Morgana’.”

You chuckled slightly. “Well excuse me grammar police.” Your heart soared as she hiccuped a laugh, raising her head to look at you, her eyes shining, tears staining the sides of her cheeks. 

“I’m sorry…”

You offered her an empathetic smile, your brows creasing. “I know. We all are. For everything. Remembering isn’t easy, and it’ll fuck you up for a few hours, but you’ll be okay.” You brought her into your embrace, soothing gentle caresses against her shoulder. “We all will. And we’re gonna get the others back too. I promise.”

“You make a lot of promises now.”

“Cuz I know I can keep ‘em.” You felt her laugh again, sniffing into your collar before removing herself from your arms and standing up. 

“Guess I should probably do something about that…” You turned back to where she was looking at the mansion, overtaken with greenery and wrapping vines, briefly catching Logan’s proud gaze on you. 

“And easy fix. Don’t worry. We have telekinetics for this kinda thing.” You shrugged, getting to your feet as Erin raised her palms, the school creaking with relief as the invasive vines snaked back into the earth with a slight hiss. The moment they disappeared from the doorway, Morgana came sprinting out, racing down the stone steps.

“Everyone okay!?”  She called out, her footsteps pounding on the grass as she all but tackled Erin into a hug, the girl barely able to maintain her footing. 

“We’re fine, Morgo. Just an intense reality check.” Erin responded from where she’d been buried in Morgana’s hair, spitting out small strands as she spoke. “I uh… I’m sorry for causing such chaos. I was just scared, I guess.” She explained meekly, and Morgana only tightened her grip. 

“It’s okay. We both did the same. Not mansion-crushing poison ivy kinda same, but we weren’t exactly quiet either.” She responded brightly, placing both her hands on Erin’s shoulders. “You ready to remember?” She asked, and Erin nodded slightly. 

“Think so… need to see Charles, right?” 

“Right. He should be downstairs keeping track of the students. They’re probably on their way back now actually.”

“Way back?”

Morgana scratched the back of her head, almost sheepish to admit what Erin had caused. “We uh, sorta evacuated the school. Ya know, poison ivy and stuff. Not great for kids.”

You watched them continue their conversation, Morgana’s arm tucked tightly in the elbow of Erin’s, the two girls seemingly thrilled one of them wasn’t trying to kill the other. You smiled slightly before it faded with the realisation of what you almost did. What you almost robbed the both of them of. 

“‘M prouda ya,” Logan said, tucking you safely against his chest. But you just sighed, resting your temple against the beat of his heart.

“I almost killed her, Lo’. Not sure that’s something you should be proud of.” You retorted a little savagely, clearly shamed by your actions. Logan’s heart clenched.

“But you didn’t. You snapped out ‘ve it and chose option one.”

“And if you weren’t here, Erin would be dead and Morgana would be devastated. And I don’t even wanna think about what it would have done to me…” You closed your eyes as he tilted your head up to look at him, lids fluttering open when his thumb smoothed your brow.

“Then it’s a good job I’m here, isn’t it?”

“And if this happens again?”

“I’ll be here for that too. Not gonna let you go, darlin’.” He murmured into the top of your head, pressing a kiss to the crease between your brows and you felt the tension melt from your bones. 

“Thank you.” You whispered, your arms winding around his neck when you felt his lips graze yours, mouth parting instinctively for him. His arms settled around your waist, holding you tight not dissimilar to the way he held you earlier, before this whole thing. 

Fuck, how did he breathe the last two months you weren’t with him?

‘I hate to interrupt,’ You both exhaled an irritated sigh as Charles's voice echoed in both of your minds. ‘However, once Erin’s memories are restored, we have a meeting and I would like the both of you to be present. We start planning today.’ 

Though the intrusion had been unwelcome, once again, a buzz of anticipation flooded your veins. Finally, you’d start forming a plan to get the rest of your family back. Finally, you could start thinking about getting Rowan back. You didn’t have to pace anymore. You didn’t have to think about what he was going through at Kreva’s hands anymore. 

You were coming for him. Coming for all of them. And you promised yourself you’d make Kreva wish he was never fucking born. 

The meeting didn’t go as planned at all. Two weeks. Two fucking weeks. That was how long Charles had said it would take to gather significant intel and stage a rescue mission. It was too fucking long. Who knows what Kreva would be capable of in two weeks? Two weeks! Fuck’s sake. 

You threw open the door to your room, rage burning through your system. You were ready now. Fuck, you were ready two fucking days ago, before you’d even got your memories back. You couldn’t wait another two damn weeks. It was too long. Far too long. 

Maybe you could head out on your own. Take Morgana and Erin with you and just go there yourselves. No plan, no backup, just the three of you. You didn’t particularly like the odds, but it was better than just sitting around and waiting. You were back to pacing, back to laying awake at night thinking. Worrying. Two fucking weeks.

“These things take time,” Logan attempted to placate from behind you, softly shutting the door as he watched you restlessly march back and forth, your hands tangled in your hair. 

“Is that what they told you when it was me they were looking to rescue? Is that what you convinced yourself when it was my life on the line?” You spat back, tone savage as your mind spun, uncaring of how cruel you sounded. You couldn’t tame your tone. Couldn’t tame your fury. And whilst in the back of your mind you felt bad Logan was the one taking the brunt of it, there that feeling stayed. In the back of your mind.

He sighed, understanding perhaps more than anyone how difficult this was. “No. I was thinking the exact same things as you are now,”

“Oh yeah? Didn’t know you were a telepath. What ‘m I thinking then?” You barked, barely pausing long enough to shoot him a glare before you resumed your fruitless pacing. 

“That you should just head out yourself. That it would be easier to do this alone. That they’re being too fucking cautious and you should just storm the place yourself, nobody behind you.” He explained exactly what was running through your head, almost word for word. Huh.

Maybe he was a telepath. 

Or maybe you were just two halves of the same soul. 

You huffed a sigh, sitting heavily on the edge of the bed, your leg bouncing with pent-up energy. “I’m assuming you didn’t do that.”

He shook his head, taking his rightful place by your side, a broad hand settling on your bouncing thigh. “No. ‘cause I knew the best chance of gettin’ you back safely was to wait. It fuckin’ killed me, don’t get me wrong, but it was worth it. ‘Cause I did get you back. It worked and you’re here now because of it, not in spite of it.” 

You rested your head atop his shoulder, trying to calm the electric adrenaline coursing through your veins. “I’m scared, Logan. The things Kreva did in the two months… it felt like a punishment. I’m fairly certain it was a punishment. And now I’ve escaped him, I know he’ll be taking it out on Rowan.” You closed your eyes, fighting against the images flashing through your brain. Bloodied scalpels, exposed organs, your own arms tearing at the restraints on your wrists. 

“What did he do…?” He asked quietly, his hand squeezing your thigh slightly. You shook your head. 

“I’ll spare you the details, but it was some fucked up autopsy kinda thing. Only we were alive. And fully conscious. Ya know, average Kreva things.” 

Fury curled in his gut, and he tensed his jaw to keep from snarling. The moment he got his hands on Kreva he’d delight in tearing him apart. He hated the way you said it so nonchalantly, though he knew it was a way you coped. You had to normalise it in your head, at least for most of the time. 

“Christ…” 

“Yeah… so I got a few new scars to commemorate the occasions. Fun, huh?” You nudged him gently, and he rolled his eyes. He didn’t quite have the same devil-may-care attitude as you did to your scars, both mental and physical, but he could appreciate the way you managed to find humour. No matter how dark it may be. 

“You’re insane.”

“Mhm? You spend almost a century with psychopaths prodding and poking you, see how sane you turn out.” You provoked with a small, mischievous grin, and he genuinely found himself wondering how you managed to be so fucking perfect for him. His body hummed with yearning, fingers dancing across your thigh and he watched your eyes grow heavy-lidded, turning your head to inhale into this side of his neck. “Logan…” you whispered, and he could hear that exact same yearning he felt in his bones against the shell of his ear. 

His fingers inched towards the crease between your thighs, your body heating up in response to his delicate touches, your lips peppering kisses against the side of his neck. He suppressed a groan when your nails dug into his forearm, leaving little crescents that quickly faded. 

Becoming impatient with his teasing, you swung your leg over to straddle his lap, settling yourself on his growing arousal, your fingers dragging lines of flame up the muscles of his back, scratching beneath the white singlet. 

He couldn’t stifle his reaction to your touch, mouth falling open with a quiet moan, his hands coming to either side of your waist, holding you down as you slowly rocked onto him in a vain attempt to ease the ache between your thighs. You hadn’t had sex with him yet since your memories were restored. If Logan was being honest with himself, he was a little afraid of triggering something for you, but the way you panted softly against his lips showed him you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. 

“You sure?” He murmured, inhaling your scent from the dip between your shoulder and collarbone, shuddering as your familiarity washed over him, combining with the sweetness of your arousal. How did you always smell so fucking good to him?

“Do I not seem sure?” You shot back teasingly, pinching the shell of his ear between your teeth and tugging a little deviously. Logan huffed a heated breath against your temple as your hands placed firmly against his chest, pushing him until his spine settled against the comforter atop your bed. You teeth sank into your lower lip, your hands skirting up beneath the white singlet, mapping the plains and valleys of his abdomen with your fingertips, scratching down the sides of his ribs, his muscles contracting and relaxing with you exploring touches. You wanted him so fucking badly. You had been wanting him so fucking badly for the last two days, but you respected his self-control to hold back. You knew he was waiting for you, and you were eternally grateful for his consideration. However, the amount of times he’d unintentionally left you high and dry was driving you up the goddamn wall. 

You stood from his lap, hooking your fingers beneath the hem of your t-shirt and making a show of pulling it from your body. It didn’t matter what you were wearing. Whether you were dressed to the nines or hanging out in your sweats and a hoody, Logan always made you feel hot as fuck. The way his eyes would shamelessly roam your body, scars and all, made you feel like you never needed to hide from him. Everything about you was desirable to him. It was part of the reason you loved him so fucking much. 

Discarding your t-shirt to the floor, your fingers deftly pulled down the zipper of your jeans, swaying your hips as you tugged them down. How you managed to elegantly step from the pool of tight fabric would always be a mystery to him, but a mystery he would attempt to solve at a later date when you weren’t standing before him in nothing but your underwear. You weren’t kidding earlier when you told him you had a few new scars. His mouth watered with the need to run his tongue down the newest one starting from just above your left breast and finishing beneath the right-hand side of your ribcage. He didn’t even want to know how you got that, but he assumed it might have something to do with the live autopsy you were talking about earlier…

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You quipped cheekily, placing a hand on your hip as if to pose for him. Left in just your bralette and bikini pants, Logan had to check himself to make sure he wasn’t fucking drooling as he sat up, shrugging off his plaid shirt and pulling his white singlet up over his head, dumping them both at the foot of your bed. 

“C’mere,” you squealed as he lurched forward, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist to tug you between his spread legs, his cock already throbbing for you, calling needily for attention he would ignore. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, ya know that?” He murmured against your stomach, nipping sharp little marks into your skin, his tongue tracing that new scar up to where it disappeared behind the fabric of your bra. “S’in my way.” He muttered almost to himself, a hint of irritation lacing his tone as he shoved it to bunch up above your breasts. Your snorted a laugh before pulling it up over your head, tossing it to the small pile of clothes you’d left on the floor.

“Better?” You asked, amusement woven through your tone. Logan shook his head, the tips of his fingers tracing the elastic of your underwear, making you shiver.

“No. Still in my way,” he snatched the hem with his teeth, pulling it back before letting it go with a snap against your hips, leaving you gasping for something more. With a sly, wicked smile, Logan released the constant tension he had on his claws, letting one slip through the gap in his knuckles, tracing the back of the warm metal along your inner thigh. “Didn’t forget about this…” he whispered against your skin, eyes torn between concentrating on what he was doing and watching what it did to you, your back arching toward him as he slotted his claw in the apex of your clothed cunt, biting back a grin as you all but ground against the blunt edge. 

“Such a fucking tease.” You hissed, your fingers winding into the soft, brown locks of his hair, nails digging into the top of his head, pulling a low groan from the back of his throat. You grinned to yourself, tugging harshly on the threads woven through your fingers, earning yourself yet another wanton growl. If he was gonna tease you all damn evening, you’d be damned if you weren’t gonna tease him right back. 

Logan angled his claw down slightly, giving you further room to grind down against it simultaneously making sure he wasn’t in any danger of cutting you at all. That wasn’t something either of you had explored yet, and whilst he was okay with you toeing the line of danger, he wasn’t quite open to hurting you. Not yet. Not when he just got you back. Hurting you was the last thing on his mind. “C’mon princess, use me.” He encouraged lowly, his other hand guiding your hips in slow, languid strokes, pressing his thumb against your hip bone. You whined at his words, sandwiching your lips between your teeth to deliberately deprive him of your sounds. You knew he fucking loved it when you moaned for him, you knew he loved it when he could hear just how well he was treating you. 

Not today. Not if he was going to do nothing but fucking tease you.

He could feel the heat from your soaked cunt, feel every slick movement as you soaked the crotch of your bikinis. All that from the slightest pressure from one of his claws. The implications had his mind spinning. He had an inkling you were locking your sweet noises away from him on purpose, but Logan was nearly always up for a challenge. Removing his claw from your apex, he deftly sliced through the elastic of your pants, growling a chuckle as you gasped again. Sliding to his knees, his palm grabbed the meat of your thigh, shamelessly throwing your leg over his shoulder, exposing your glistening centre. 

“Gonna make you fuckin’ scream, darlin’.” You barely had time to think of a witty quip back before his tongue gently nudged between your folds, hot pleasure spiking through your veins as his nose nudged your swollen clit. You sucked in a harsh breath, your fingers tightening their hold on his hair, twisting through soft locks to hold him in place. Logan’s eyes rolled back behind closed lids, lapping up your sweet nectar with his tongue. 

You couldn’t hold back your guttural moan when his mouth settled over your throbbing pearl, sucking gently against the sensitivity. Your spine curled around his head and you had a front-row seat to the way the muscles in his back tensed with the effort to not throw you on the bed and pick you apart. He snarled hotly when one of your hands left his hair to claw up those same tensing muscles, earning yourself a harsh suck against your clit, vibrations from his voice sending little waves of ecstasy through your system. 

“Logan…” you breathed airily, your tone pitching with a whine when his hand skirted up your inner thigh for his fingers to tease your slick entrance, seemingly content to feel you gush against his fingertips before slowly burying his middle finger inside you. 

He revelled in your gasps, your moans, knowing that no matter how hard you tried, you could never hide just how fucking good he could make you feel. It stroked his ego, your wordless praise going straight to his throbbing, leaking cock. That mixed with the natural aphrodisiac of your essence had him gripping your outer thigh tightly in an attempt to ground himself and keep his shit together. But it was becoming increasingly more difficult the moment you arched into him as the rough pad of his finger reached that little bundle of nerves deep within your silken walls. 

Oh, how he fucking yearned to replace that finger with his cock. 

Your back bowed as liquid pleasure flooded every fibre of your being, unable to stop your desperate grinding against his face, sharp nails clawing into the meat of his shoulder, feeling his soft laughter beneath your palms. He had you. He knew he had you. Exactly where he wanted you. And if you were being honest with yourself, you were all too happy to accept that if it meant he wouldn’t stop. 

“Fuck! Fuck Logan…” You whimpered, hips undulating onto his tongue as he introduced a second finger, scissoring you open before exploring deeping, once again finding that little spot that made your eyes cross and stars dance in your vision. The tension in your gut started to become unbearable, every breath laced with a pitched moan of his name, repeating it like a prayer to the skies above as you threw your head back.

He wasn’t lying. He was going to make you scream. 

Nimble fingers curled inside you repeatedly, massaging your inner walls whilst his tongue continued to lap at your clit, beckoning you further towards that cliff, dangerously toeing the edge when his lips wrapped back around your pearl of pleasure and sucked long and hard.

A quiet scream tore from your throat, somehow still mindful of the fact you were in the mansion and screaming any louder would definitely alert your poor neighbours of what was going on inside the walls of your room. Heated lightning flashed behind your eyes as your arousal crested into sheer ecstasy, your thighs clamping around his head to hold him right there whilst your orgasm shook your very core, your muscles contracting with every endless wave of pure, hot rapture. 

Logan groaned long and deep into your cunt, using his own voice to heighten and lengthen your orgasm before it became too much for you and you were forced to tug him back, faced with his glistening visage of proud glee. You guessed two months of no sex had been building your sensitivity to a crescendo, your thighs still trembling slightly though you were by no means done. Fuck you wanted to devour him.

“Jeans. Off. Now.” You managed to pant darkly, watching his eyes sparkle with the unspoken promise as he wiped your slick from his mouth, maintaining your gaze as he lapped at the back of his hand. Christ, he was fucking filthy sometimes. 

“Yes ma’am,” he quipped back, slowly lowering your leg from his shoulder, making certain you could still stand on your own before he rose to his feet, capturing your lips in a brutal, passionate kiss as he passed your face. You gasped into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue, your own hands flying to the buckle of his belt, flicking open the steel and tightening the leather around his waist briefly, a small display of assertion, before removing it entirely and looping it around your hand. Oh, you had plans tonight, plans to show him just how much you’d missed him. To show him you had no intentions of letting him go. 

Dexterous fingers popped open the brass button atop his jeans, carefully dragging the zipper down before shoving both jeans and briefs from his hips, leaving him to handle the rest whilst your coal-hot palm circled his pulsing length. 

Logan’s jaw fell slack as he kicked off the fabric, brows pinching as you slowly pumped his cock, your thumb dragging along the prominent vein running down the underside of his length. The clinking of his belt in your other hand had his eyes drifting down, his mind straining to form a coherent thought as you looked at him questioningly. 

“What’re you thinkin’?” he managed to grit, having to wrap his fingers around your wrist to stop your motions before he lost himself again. You pursed your lips, dragging your leather-bound hand across his chest and up to his shoulder.

“Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

You paused for a moment, a wicked glint gleaming in your eye. “I wanna wrap this around your neck and pull on it whilst I suck your fucking soul out of your cock.”

Logan almost choked on his own gathering saliva, and he should really be ashamed of how fucking hot you just made him, his cock throbbing at the mere thought of your intentions. “And you said I was filthy… fuck darlin’. Might’ve been the hottest thing you’ve ever said.” He breathed, delighting in the downright villainous look in your gaze. Holy fucking shit. 

“Yeah? Want me to collar you like a dog?” You had no idea where any of this was coming from. Sure you’d had fantasies of tying him up and worshipping him the same way he’d done to you, but all this dirty talk? You had no damn clue. 

“Fuck yes.” He hissed, and your lips split into a devilish grin. 

“Sit.” You instructed, and he did just that, no questions asked, legs spread for you to kneel between, his cock twitching needily. “So obedient.”

His chest inflated as you rose on your knees, twirling the length of the belt from your hand and winding it around his thick neck, feeding the end through the buckle and pulling until it was snuck against his skin. All the while he nipped sharp bites wherever your wrist was in reach of his mouth, his palm holding your arm still so he could trail his teeth up to the crease of your elbow. 

You gave the belt an experimental tug, admiring the way he gasped at the leather tightened briefly around his neck, pulling his head back from your skin. You felt his cock nudge your stomach with the slight buck of his hips in response to the sensation. 

Settling back down to sit on your heels, you kept the end of the belt clasped tightly in one hand, the other returning to palm his cock, admiring the way he gasped loudly as the centre of your hand circled his sensitive tip, spreading clear pre-cum up and down his shaft. You leaned forward, savouring the bite in your knees as your hot breath fanned the underside of his length, your tongue only gently grazing that same vein you ran your thumb down earlier. 

“Fuck…” he sighed, his head tipping back, bracing one hand behind him and the other atop your head, fingers scratching at the roots of your hair. It had been too fucking long since he had you like this, and the tightening leather around his neck only served to further his heightened sensitivity. 

Opening your mouth, you wrapped your lips around his leaking tip, your tongue lapping against his frenulum, tugging at the belt as his hips bucked into your mouth, craving more. He hissed, baring his teeth in a silent snarl as you hollowed your cheeks, sucking in time to the rhythmic pulsing of his length, your other hand dragging teasing nails up and down what you hadn’t fit in your mouth yet, before all at once, you tore your hand away, opened your throat and swallowed the rest of his cock. 

Logan’s back arched, a stuttered moan tearing from his chest as your nose buried itself in the course hairs at his naval, gasping raggedly as you gave the belt another harsh tug, cold leather digging into the straining tendons on the sides of his neck, pressing against his prominent adam’s apple and constricting his breathing for a moment. The second it loosened, a hot wave of ecstasy coursed through his veins as he inhaled, honey-laced lightning filling his lungs when you pulled back from his cock, only to run your tongue down the underside of his length again as you sucked him off. 

“Shit… shit sweetheart. Feel so fucking good…” he groaned as you worked him, every drag of your hot mouth pulling him closer to his high, every small gag tightening your throat around his throbbing cock. Tears lined your eyes as you took him as deep as you could once again, your hand bracing against his hip as he bucked sharply, uncontrollably, into your mouth. He gasped to the ceiling as his head fell back, tightening the leather as you held the end in a death grip, not providing any slack for him. Brows pinched, mouth agape, Logan felt himself cresting the pinnacle of pleasure, hand grasping your hair as he failed to still his grinding hips.

“Gonna cum baby, f-fuck, gonna cum…!” he rasped a warning, only encouraging you to hollow your cheeks further and bring him over the edge in a similar way he’d done to you only moments ago. Your tongue danced against his pulsing vein, nails digging into his hip bone as you sucked long and hard, tugging the belt sharply and sending him into trembling ecstasy. 

A throaty, drawn-out roar wracked his throat as he tumbled head first into his orgasm, mindful to tear his hand from your head as his claws ripped through his knuckles, shooting rope after copious rope of cum down your throat, his thighs shaking with each delicious wave. He couldn’t find it in him to care for the tearing of fabric as he ripped clean through your comforter, powerful tides of liquid hedonistic gratification sending his mind spinning and clouding his senses. 

You didn’t stop your ministrations, swallowing every drop you pulled from him before continuing to circle the back of your tongue against his increasingly sensitive tip until he was bucking to escape the heat of your mouth. You had half the mind to tug on the belt once more, to get him to behave, but the fresh ache in your cunt was loud enough to release him, wanting nothing more than to feel him quake inside you. 

Pulling off with a soft pop, you delivered a few kitten licks to his still leaking slit before looking up to admire your work, Logan’s blissful, fucked out visage doing nothing to satiate your building desperation. 

When you said you’d suck his soul out, he didn’t think you meant literally. Basking in the afterglow of his orgasm, Logan had to check himself to make sure you hadn’t somehow killed him, his heart racing with the force of his high, chest heaving as he fought for breath. You loosened the belt slightly and he groaned lowly with the sudden intake of oxygen, yet another wave of pleasure forcing another bubble of milky cum from his tip. Softly, you unhooked the belt from the buckle, sliding it from around his neck and discarding it to the floor along with the rest of your forgotten clothing, your hands cradling the fading bruises on either side of his throat.

Cracking his eyes open, he genuinely had a moment where he did think he was dead because you looked otherwordly above him. A seraphim. Or a succubus. He couldn’t decide which. 

“I’d say that was a successful addition, wouldn’t you?” The audacity you had to expect him to respond right now was unbelievable, your soft arms wrapping around his freshly healed neck as you went to straddle his settling thighs, mindful of his overly sensitive cock. You knew it wouldn’t be too long until he was ready for another round, so why not spend that time teasing him a little?

“Fucking hell darlin’...” he managed, his claws sinking back between his knuckles before his hands came to cradle your waist, finding enough strength to pull you with him as he shuffled back onto the bed, propping himself up against your pillows and headboard. “You tryna kill me or somethin’?” he grinned, a brow arched at your wicked little giggle. 

“Wouldn’t be a bad way to go.” You retorted, winding your hands into his hair soothingly,  moulding your lips to his so he could taste himself on your tongue, your own essence still lingering in his mouth.

“What’s that then? Attempt three? Four? On my life?” he asked, pulling back a fraction to watch you roll your eyes playfully. 

“Who’s counting?”

Logan shook his head fondly. All the fear of losing you. All the pain of failing to protect you. The agony of waiting. It was all worth it to see you here, now, with him. He still couldn’t quite believe he had you back in his arms. “Fuck I love you. So fucking much, Firefly.” He murmured against your lips, your eyes widening slightly before pouring every ounce of adoration in your heart into a fierce kiss. 

“Want you, Logan…” you breathed, feeling his cock already hardening against your cunt, grinding your hips to catch your clit on his balls. 

“You have me, sweetheart.” He responded, bracing his hands against your back to switch positions, your world spinning for a moment before you nestled back into the pillows, strong arms caging you in. “You have me.” He repeated, teasing the head of his cock through your slick folds before slowly breaching you.

Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, ankles crossing at the small of his back as he filled you, the desperation of before having shifted to something more sensual, more passionate. He didn’t just want to fuck you. He wanted to love you. 

Your brows pinched, eyes closing, an airy gasp floating from your lips with the familiar stretch of his length filling your perfectly. He stilled as he settled to the hilt, basking in the feeling of your tight walls clenching around him, shaky breaths fanning your temple as he fought with himself not to cum on the damn spot. 

“Look at me…” he urged softly, your lids fluttering open to meet his intense gaze, watching his jaw slacken when he pulled out to the tip, before rolling his hips back into you, mesmerised by every micro-expression you made. Your thighs tightened around his waist, heels digging into the base of his spine as you encouraged his movements. He kept his thrusts slow and deep, reaching every inch of your inner walls, grazing deliciously against that bundle of nerves he was teasing with his fingers before you had him in your mouth. 

“I love you.” You whispered, hands holding onto the sinewy muscles of his shoulders, welcoming him into your quivering cunt with every rhythmic pulse of his cock breaching your glistening entrance. Logan huffed a gravelly groan, soft eyes searching tracing every detail of your features, the way your mouth fell open, the way you fought to keep your eyes open when his length bushed that little spot of pure ecstasy inside you, the crease in the centre of your brows when they pinched. He committed each little expression to memory, before losing himself completely in your silken heat.

Logan increased the pace of his movements, pleasure coursing through his veins as you shuddered around him, your nails piercing the skin of his shoulders, desperation fuelling the clawing across the top of his back. Your pitched moans went straight to his cock, urging him to bury his face in the side of your neck and inhale your sweet scent, driving him to give you as much as he could.

“C’mon baby… can feel you clenchin’ round me. Let go,” he instructed, savouring the way your thighs trembled, your spine arching. “Cum f’me darlin’. Show me how good it feels.”

Your symphony of moans climaxed along with your body, the shadows in the room quivering and whipping out as you struck your high, cumming in long, drawn-out waves and creaming on his pulsing cock. Logan tensed as he refrained from spilling into your for as long as he could, determined to prolong your ecstasy before he reached his own. But the moment you surged up to bury your teeth in the side of his neck, he came undone.

“Sh-shit! Fuck!” He growled your name through grit teeth, heaving gasps as he lost control of his hips for the second time that night, bucking into you with renewed desperation as his muscles contracted, rapturous nectar pulsing from his cock as he pumped into your waiting heat, your walls gripping and milking him for all he was worth. 

Phantom tides of lightning caused his length to twitch within you, and it took nearly all his strength not to collapse and crush you beneath him, rolling to the side, your legs still wrapped around his waist, keeping him nestled inside you.

Logan pulled your into his sweat-oiled chest, his heavy breathing calming slightly as you nuzzled into the hollow of his throat, your own hot breaths fanning his already heated skin whilst the two of you basked in the floating afterglow, his scruff scratching lightly against your forehead as you buried your face in his neck. 

He held you as you came back to earth, untangling your legs from his waist, hissing as he pulled out and lifted his side for you to remove your other leg from where he was essentially holding it hostage with his weight. 

“Where the fuck did that whole belt thing come from?” he asked with no small degree of humour in his voice once he remembered how to think properly. He felt you shake with laughter, tilting your head up to gaze into his mirthful hazel eyes. 

“Been wanting to do something with that damn belt since the first time we slept together. Maybe the first time you kissed me, actually…” you hummed thoughtfully, and he cocked a brow. He remembered that first morning you woke up together, your confession over leaving the belt somewhere within reach just in case.

He always wondered what the case would have been. Now he knew. And it was the single hottest thing you’d ever done. 

“Such a freak.” He mumbled, gently hitting his nose against yours as you rolled your eyes.

“You’re saying that as if you didn’t cave the moment I suggested it. I asked if you wanted me to collar you and you responded, and I quote, ‘fuck yes’.” You did your best to imitate his voice, failing miserably as you couldn’t reach that low or gravelly. Logan rolled his eyes, shoving your head back into his neck where you couldn’t see just how wrapped around your finger he truly was.

“That was a shit impression.”

“Whaddya mean, bub?” You did it again, earning yourself a sharp pinch to your waist before you devolved into fits of giggles. 

“Stop.” He fought back a grin, refusing to show you how amused he truly was by your antics. “You’re a hundred-and-five years old, act your age.”

“Logan if I acted my age I’d be dead. And so would you, for that matter,” you quipped back, earning yourself a snort of laughter above you.

“Good point well made.”

“Speaking of which…” you raised your head from his neck once again, propping yourself up on your elbow. “I never did thank you, did I? For not telling me how you found out my birthday. Guess I never got the chance but– thank you. I know you don’t like lying to me so it means a lot that you did.” 

You watch him struggle to accept your gratitude, clearly battling between the guilt of not telling you at the time and the want to keep you in the dark to stop you from dwelling.

“How long’ve you known?”

“Since Charles restored my memory. After my freakout. It was the first thing Jade showed me. My birthday in the cabin,” you responded softly, idly tracing the muscles of his bicep with your fingers. “We gotta go back, by the way. I think I left my gift there.” You admitted sheepishly.

“It’s here.”

Your eyes shot back to his face, and he couldn’t have recreated your expression of surprised awe if you had given him all the art lessons in the world. “It’s here?”

“Yep.”

“Wh- h- what? When? How?” your pitch increased with each question, your brain working overtime to try and remember when he would have had the time to pick it up in the rush of both packing and leaving that night two months ago. 

“Remember you forgot ya purse?” He asked, a fond glint dancing in his eyes.

“Well yeah but–”

“Grabbed it on the way out. It was on the mantlepiece next to that ridiculous picture you took.”

“I like that picture!” You defended avidly, remembering the day you took it. It was a freezing autumn afternoon, though there was nothing but sunshine in the sky. You’d wrapped a scarf around his neck as he worked on the bike outside, snapping a sneaky pic of him all snug. It was one of your favourite pictures, and you’d got it printed and framed without him even knowing about it. How you managed to do any of that behind his back you wouldn’t say, but he let you display it because it made you happy. 

“Besides the point. It’s uh– in my closet.” It was his turn to sound a little guilty, soft tones laced with culpability.

“Your closet? Why? It’s gorgeous.” You tilted your head as much as you could with the awkward position, struggling to understand why he would shut away such an incredible display of his woodworking skills. 

“I couldn’t look at it…” he confessed, and you inhaled a micro gasp of understanding. It was a reminder of what he’d lost for the last two months. You hadn’t really taken the time to contemplate just how hard things had been for him. In a way, having your memories completely readjusted had worked in your favour. You couldn’t miss what you didn’t remember. But Logan? He remembered all of it. And he’d spent the last two months wondering if he’d ever see you again. 

“Logan…” you murmured, your hand leaving his arm to cup the side of his face, heartbreaking as he leaned into your touch a fraction, the scruff of his beard tickling the heel of your palm. “I’m so sorry.” You didn’t quite know why you were apologising. Maybe for having it easier with not being able to miss him the same way he missed you. For not truly understanding what he went through. For being so focused on yourself and your brother, you hadn’t taken a moment to think about his experiences. Sure, you’d asked how he was holding up, but it didn’t seem enough.

“S’okay. You’re here now.” It was a reassurance for himself more than anything else, you could see it in the way he savoured your touch, your thumb dragging gently back and forth over his cheekbone.

“I’m here now.” You affirmed, nudging his nose with yours before resting your forehead against his. “I’m here.”

“I wanna spend the rest of my life with you, firefly.”

Your eyes blew wide, searching his face for the deception you knew you wouldn’t find. “What…?”

“Not a proposal or anythin’, don’t worry. Just wanted you to know. Come far too close to losin’ you to not say shit like this, I guess.” He tried to play it off like his heart wasn’t in his damn throat, watching every micro-expression you made, looking for any sign of rejection. But the way your eyes watered slightly, lips splitting into a smile of sheer, unadulterated joy, told him that there would be no such thing from you. 

“I wouldn’t be mad if it was, but I am yours. For however long you’ll have me.” You continued to trace his features, the creases at the corners of his eyes as his mouth quirked into a soft, fond smile. 

“So ‘til one of us keels over. Might be some time.”

“I think I’m okay with that.”

The rythmic tapping of nails against oak occupied your mind as you started blankly at the presentation screen ahead of you, details of the latest draft of the search and rescue mission glowing faintly on the screen. But you finding it difficult to concentrate on Scott’s authoritative voice when his plan didn’t make any goddamn sense.

“Wasn’t that the entrance you used last time? Fairly certain Kreva would have worked that out by now…” Morgana offered with uncertainty, and you grunted in agreement, your leg bouncing in growing irritation as once again, the meeting was going fucking nowehere. Logan’s hand settled on your thigh, his thumb caressing soothing circles onto the top of your sweatpants. 

“There’ll be twice as many guards there than there were last time, if there were any there at all.” You followed up, speaking through where your teeth chewed at your cuticles, your tapping nails ceasing to settle you other palm atop Logan’s knuckles, a silent gesture to reassure him you were alright. 

“Guards won’t be a problem.” He snarled quietly, resisting the urge to prove his point by releasing the tension in his knuckles. You bit back a smile. 

“We also gotta remember,” Morgana continued, flipping her hair back behind her shoulder. “Kreva will also be expecting something from us now. Especially since he grabbed Rowan for this exact reason. He’ll be expecting you.” She turned her attention to you, and you frowned in acknowledgment. You knew that. You all knew that. And you’d lost count of the amount of times people had tried to convince your to stay here and not head out with them. Each conversation ended fairly abruptly, with you telling them to fuck off. 

“And he still has his trump card, Naji.” Erin chimed in, her cheek resting on her palm as if she was bored out of her mind, her other hand mindless tapping on her phone. You knew she was actually listening pretty intently, her brain working overtime to come up with creative solutions to the problems that just wouldn’t stop arising. She wanted to get Atlas out with as little risk as possible, and she was also one of the people who had tried to convince you to step back, but backed down when you promptly mentioned she wasn’t the only one missing someone she loved deeply. 

That shut her up pretty damn quickly. 

“I thought we’d decided Jean would take care of Naji?” You couldn’t keep the frustration in your voice as you were once again having to go back over issues that had already been resolved. Why the fuck was this being brought up yet again? And awkward silence blanketed the room, Jean, Scott and Charles exchanging quick, uncertain glances. 

“We did… but we decided it wouldn’t be a good idea,” Scott said, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms, already defensive. As he should be.

“What? Why? Who else better to engage in a mind battle than a fucking telepath? And I’m not being funny, but I’m assuming Charles isn’t coming, correct?” You turned your head to the Professor as he nodded in confirmation.

“I’ll be there in Cerebro.” Was all he said, and you looked back to Scott pointedly. 

“Exactly. So why the hell wouldn’t we send Jean to Naji?”

“It’s too dangerous.” He stated simply, and you fought the urge to lunge across the table and slap the shit out of him. 

“Of course it’s dangerous. This is dangerous for all of us! But Jean agreed, right?” You tnow turned to her, desperate for her to confirm what had already happened. But she too looked hesitant.

“Yeah, I did.” She sighed, and you gave Scott a look of ‘fuck you, asshole’. But he only tightened his jaw.

“So why are we now deciding that sending a telepath after a memory manipulator is a bad idea?”

“Perhaps we should adjourn this meeting for later?” Hank offered after being all but silent the entire time.

“No, fuck that. This is important. Do you guys know what’s at stake here? I’m assuming Logan wasn’t the only one to read the fild, right? You do know what Kreva did to us, yes?” You asked the room to to yet another chorus of quiet, confirming your fears. Barely anyone in this room knew exactly what they were up against. “You’re fucking kidding me…” You breathed, trying to focus on Logan squeezing your leg to help ground your fury. 

“She’s right,” he chimed in, and your heart surged. No matter what, you knew he would fight your corner. He always did. “Pretty sure the only ones here who can fight against mind battles are Jean and Charles. None of us can put up those kinda defences and if that fucker snatches up one of us, the whole plan goes outta whack.”

“And what will you be doing?” Scott shot from across the table, and you felt Logan tense slightly. 

“What I do best.” He responded flatly, and you got the distinct feeling this meeting was about to become a lot more heated. 

“So whilst you’re running around carving through carrion, Jean will be fighting the real battle, that right?” Okay, now it was really taking all your concentration not to smack his glasses off his fucking face. What the hell did he mean by real battle?

“I think Hank was right, maybe we should–” Kurt began awkwardly from the corner, clearly already hating the growing confrontation. But he was instantly cut off by you, rising to Scott’s challenge.

“Oh I’m sorry, is keeping your girlfriend safe by taking out hundreds of gunmen not enough?” You bit, venom dripping from your tone. Scott scoffed as the rest of the room shuffled anxiously, Ororo pinching the bridge of her knows between her fingers as if this whole conversation was giving her a headache. 

“‘His girlfriend’ is in the room.” Jean placed a hand on her hip, her eyes hardening as she looked between the two opposing sides. But it seemed neither Logan, Scott nor yourself noticed.

“My girlfriend is the only reason you made it out that damn place with your mind still intact, and the only reason you didn’t go ape shit and kill the rest of us like you did Jade.”

“Scott!” Storm barked, but it was far too late. The damage was done. Your head tilted to the side, shadows in the room rippling and writhing as your control over the threads inside you started to slip. 

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Logan snarled, his hands balling into fists as he too engaged in the same battle to keep control. 

“Just because you got a new girlfriend Logan doesn’t mean you can throw mine into the fray. It wasn’t so long ago you were eyeing her up at every opportunity,” he turned back to you. “I’d be careful if I were you. Wait ‘til the next pretty girl waltzes into the school, you’ll be old news to him.”

The following silence was so thick it tasted like bitter resentment. You swore it was only two months ago Scott was congratulating the both of you on your newfound relationship. Why the fuck was he acting like this.

It didn’t matter anyway. He’d said what he’d said and you slowly stood from your seat. The room watched you with prey-like caution, Scott’s fingers dancing across his glasses, Ororo’s hands flexing in anticipation. They were still scared. Still scared of you. And you couldn’t help but think it was with good reason, because the way you were currently feeling, you could have drowned this whole room in darkness without hesitation. 

But you wouldn’t be who they saw. Only Morgana and Erin seemed at ease, Erin with that same bored look, tapping away on her phone, and Morgana looking as if she’d just watched the latest episode of the juiciest TV show.

“Meeting adjourned.” You said with deathly quiet, before stalking from the room, hearing a sharp ‘the fuck was that Scott’ from Ororo as you let your feet carry you away. You refused to feel insecure in your relationship with Logan. It wasn’t that long ago, maybe a week or so, he was saying how he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. You knew Scott was bitter about the way Jean had behaved, and the man placed a lot of the blame on your partner, despite the fact she was the one who’d lead him on. Gave him hope where there wasn’t any. Not that any of that mattered now. It was in the past. Old news. And news you’d already been told, by Logan himself. 

That wasn’t even what got to you. It was his comment about Jade. Whilst you’d put your self-hatred and guilt to bed, it still didn’t mean it wasn’t easy for it to rise again. You felt the all to familiar waves of regret wax and wane in your chest, the memory of her death playing on repeat in your head, through your own eyes. You clenched your jaw against them, trying to remember that she had forgiven you for what you’d done. She didn’t hold it against you, and the locket currently bouncing against the hollow of your throat was a testament to that.

You didn’t even realise you’d made it outside until the sharp winter air seeped through your bones. At least the sky was clear, clusters of stars blinking down at you, but rather than finding peace, you instead felt judgement. Which was ridiculous. But you felt it anyway, in the passionate deaths of a million fireballs light-years away from Earth. You sucked in a deep breath, allowing the icy air to soothe the burning in your chest, letting your bubbling rage settle into a gentle stew. 

You heard him before you saw him, heavy footsteps crunching on gravel before a large, warm jacket settled atop your shoulders, bathing you in the comforting scent of whiskey and pine. You stayed silent for a moment, Logan’s hand finding yours subconsciously.

“Did you kill him?” You asked by way of greeting, and you heard a soft huff of small laughter by your side. 

“Not yet. Want me to?”

“I’m real good at hiding bodies.”

“That I don’t doubt.” 

Logan felt his gut twist as you continued looking skyward, hoping you were finding some kind of solace in the feeling of unimportance when faced with the rest of the universe. Feeling small was something Logan was too familiar with, but when staring into the infinite, glittering void above, he found a comforting sense of mortality, despite thus far proving to be immortal. But then he remembered Scott’s scathing comment, and he was brought back to the issue at hand. “You know it’s bullshit, right?”

You blinked for a moment, failing to understand what he was referring to. “What’s bullshit?”

“The whole thing about the next pretty girl…” he clarified quietly, his fingers flexing and squeezing between yours.

“Oh, pff, that? I’m not worried. Like I said, I’m real good at hiding bodies.” You grinned slightly, and you watched his face relax in relief. Was he really worried about such a petty comment? It soothed your aching heart to know he was. 

“Good.” He murmured to the top of your hair, his hand leaving yours to wrap his arm around your shoulders.

“Good that I can hide bodies?”

“That too.”

You hummed in contented agreement, basking in the warmth of his presence, returning your gaze to the night sky. “You okay? That was quite a shot fired from Scott.” You quieried, craning your neck further to look at his side profile, his eyes still trained above.

“‘M’fine. After you left they got into an argument so that was kinda cathartic to watch.”

“Who? Scott and Jean?”

“Mhm.” He hummed in confirmation, and you snorted a laugh.

“What was she saying?”

“That he needs to stop treating her like she can’t handle herself, that she isn’t made of glass.”

“Sounds familiar.” You lightly elbowed his side and he raised a brow down to you, deftly flicking your forehead before you could pull away in time. 

The quiet of the night invaded the space between you, settling comfortably atop unspoken affection. “What he said about Jade…”

“I’m fine, Lo’. Sure, it kinda caught me off guard, but I probably should have expected it. Especially since I was questioning his fragile authority.” You shrugged, but Logan knew the depth of the wound Scott had cut. He didn’t think there would be a time when digs about Jade wouldn’t resurface those feelings of fear and liability. 

“I love you, ya know that?”

You sighed warmly. “Yeah, I know.” You responded, once again letting the silence settle for a beat before you inhaled a breath. “Jean? Really?”

Logan groaned in response, it was the same conversation you’d started when he’d first told you about that whole situation. “Yeah, I know. Don’t.”

“But like, okay she’s hot, and a red-head so like, double whammy, but she’s kinda creepy. Feels like something’s going on under the surface, ya know?”

“Look, she was the first person who’d shown me any kind of kindness for a long time, a’ight?”

“Okay but like, if someone helped you across the street, would you fall in love with them, too?” 

“What am I? Eight-five?”

“No, you’re hundred and thirty. Eighty-five’s pretty sprightly in comparison.”

“And that’s enough talkin’.” He wrapped both arms around your shoulder, hiding your face beneath his chin to muffle your voice, your rapid breaths of laughter fanning his neck. “It wasn’t the same, anyway.”

“Hm?” You tried to pull back, only to be met with resistance from Logan’s hand against the back of your head. 

“It wasn’t the same, how I felt ‘bout her. To how I feel ‘bout you. Never was ‘n never will be.” He didn’t need to say it. You both knew he didn’t need to say it. But that’s why it meant so much more that he did. Your soul sang within the centre of your very being, to be so loved after all you’ve gone through, you never thought something like this would be possible, let alone allowing yourself to love someone back. Even with Jade, you felt as if you didn’t have the right to love her.

But Logan? He made you feel so safe. 

“I know.” You repeated into the home you’d made in the crook of his neck. Logan exhaled a hum, Adam’s apple sending soft vibrations through your nose as he simply held you for a moment, before sniffing the air twice the combined scent of earth coated iron had his lips pulling into a slight smile.

“She’s all yours.” Logan stole a glance behind him to where both Erin and Morgana were standing silently, respectfully waiting for the sweet moment to naturally come to a close. When you pulled back this time, he let you, his hand falling to your waist before pecking your lips with a honeyed kiss. 

It was only when he stepped back from you did you realise you had company, too wrapped up in his presence to hear their shoes on the gravel. He offered you a nod of reassurance, and you offered him a warm smile in return before he turned his back and heading back inside, his jacket still hanging snugly across your shoulders. 

“That was cute,” Erin began as she tucked her phone into her back pocket, the two girls coming to stand on either side of you, both of them looping their arms through your elbows. “Scratch that. He’s cute. Can’t believe you’re actually dating that gorgeous hunk of a man. So unfair.” She pouted slightly, and you chuckled. 

“I know right? We escape for seven years and what do we do? Become strippers and gardeners. You escape for seven years and find yourself a partner, a family and a team. Talk about bullshit.” Morgana chided with a cheeky grin, her eyes flashing in the low light. 

“Yeah well… I did also kill the woman I loved so it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows.” You admitted, watching their expressions morph from cheeky to melancholic in a heartbeat. You guessed they still weren’t quite used to that fact yet. You’d had longer to come to terms with it, at least after Charles restored your memories. They’d only found out a week ago. It was still a hard pill to swallow. Jade was gone. For good. 

Your breath clouded in front of your face as you returned to look skyward, finding less judgment in the stars and more comfort. If nothing else, they’d been a constant in your life. Whether you were out killing for Kreva or out fighting for your family. They’d always been there above you. Keeping you company on the long, difficult nights. 

“I’m gonna miss her,” Erin whispered into the night, her arm tightening around yours. “She was–”

“Fun.” Morgana finished, casting a glance at her two sisters by her side. You huffed a laugh.

“We were fun. Whilst we weren’t being fucked up. We had a lot of fun.” You felt a slight burn in your eyes. It was only just dawned on you that your lives together were coming to an end. When you got Atlas, Rowan, Naji and Joes back, what would happen to Nimlo? Would you all stay together? It seemed unlikely. Erin didn’t seem all too comfortable in the mansion, and you had an idea that once she was back with Atlas, that would be it for the two of them. They’d go their separate ways. Rowan would stay by your side, maybe get a job here at the school teaching physics or something. Joes could never stay in one place for very long, always flitting between rooms for a ‘change of scenery’ he would say. Naji would most likely become a recluse, not that he was particularly social, to begin with.

But Morgana? You had a feeling she was directionless. Torn between different paths. You knew she could stay here. The team would welcome her with open arms, and you’d seen the way she got on particularly well with Kurt, the two of them cracking up in the corner after one of them made some stupid joke. But there was no guarantee that, after this, you’d ever see many of them again. 

“You remember when we graffitied that guy’s wall?” Morgana broke the silence, her voice thick with a similar emotion to yours. 

“And Joes had to distract him by telling him the longest, most elaborate story about the time he went to get his ass checked out by a doctor only to realise he just had pin-worms?” Erin continued, clearing her throat slightly so she could speak without her voice breaking. 

You cracked a broad grin, shoulders shaking with teary laughter as you remembered that night vividly. You were all a bored band of misfits with a can of paint and an idea, drawing a dick and balls on one of the neighbourhood’s walls before being caught with a flashlight in the middle of the act. Joes rushed into performance mode, telling this poor man the story of his completely fabricated visit to the doctor’s in graphic detail. He was so stunned it gave you precious few moments to make a break for it, sprinting down the side streets to the disgruntled shouts of an angry man. You vaguely wondered how he was doing now, before remembering he never existed. 

“Or when we stole that woman’s car after being caught shoplifting.” You chimed, looking at Morgana pointedly. She gaped in mock offence. 

“I refuse to take the blame for that. Atlas was supposed to be on watch but somehow got distracted.” She sent a faux glare across you to Erin, who’d done her best to craft a mask of complete innocence. 

“I had nothing to do with that! You wanna talk about poor lookouts? How about we never put Rowan on scout duty ever again? Why did we think it was a good idea to put the damn light-weaver on lookout, at night time?” 

The two girls both turned to look at you. “Hey! Why ‘m I getting the blame for that? It was Jade’s idea! She said to ‘let him have a go’, so don’t you look at me like that!” You couldn’t suppress your wicked smile, feeling a little at fault but honestly, not giving a rat’s ass. “Is it my imagination or did Jade shift into a hamster and hide herself in the pet shop just to bite the finger of the guy who cut her off that one time.”

“Oh my god no she did! I remember that! She came back with a shit-eating grin saying she ‘got the fucker’ and we were all so confused!” Morgana cackled, the three of you reminiscing over the time Jade had returned from shopping only to find out she’d been pretending to be a hamster for the last four hours in the hopes the motherfucker who cut her off on the road would somehow waltz in. How she managed to actually pull it off blew your minds. How she even knew he’d come in at some point that day was even more impressive. 

Bubbles of rapturous laughter died away as reality settled in your chest, the silence of the night overtaking you once again. “What happens after this…?” You asked quietly, slightly fearful of ruining the moment. But the two girls by your side just sighed, having clearly been asking themselves the same thing.

“Who knows? We gotta get them back first.” Morgo replied with equal quiet, the looming mission now growing ever-present. “But Erin, for the love of all that is both holy and unholy, will you please tell Atlas you love him? Don’t know about the others, but I’m getting real sick of the constant glances of longing between the two of you. Makes a girl lonely, ya know?” She emphasised her point by shoving you in her direction, in turn sending you colliding with the green-haired girl by your side. She shoved you back into the redhead, and you had to tighten your arms around theirs to get them to stop. You weren’t a damn weapon!

Well, not in this context anyway.

“Yeah yeah, alright. Probably would be a good time anyway, with heightened emotions and all that. But we do realise they're not just gonna waltz out of there with us, right? Kreva’s probably done to us what he did to Jade and just forced them all to forget about us.” Erin spoke your fears into reality. It had been on your mind, the idea that Rowan wouldn’t even know who you were when you saw him again, but that was a bridge you were going to have to cross when you got to it. 

“Then we’ll just do what they did last time. Bamf them the fuck out of there with Kurt.” Morgana explained plainly as if it were the easiest solution in the world. When, in reality, it would only most likely work for Atlas. Joes could also teleport and Rowan could disintegrate into the light the same way you could through the dark. Naji would hopefully be too caught up with Jean to notice he’d been snatched away, but that plan was still apparently a raging debate. 

“Can Kurt do that? I mean, he could only do it a few times before all hell broke loose before,” Erin raised, her fingers fiddling the hem of her oversized hoodie, and you shrugged in response. Honestly, you didn’t know what was going to happen, though you knew one thing was certain, and that was getting Rowan back.

We’ll stay in touch, right? After all of this? Like, we’re not just gonna go our separate ways and never speak again. Like, we’ll still talk to each other…? Right?” You could hear the broken uncertainty in Morgana’s voice, another unanswered question. You wanted to. Fuck did you want to. These people were your family. You didn’t want them to leave just yet.

“Yeah… yeah. Course we will. Right, Erin?” You prompted her awkward silence.

“Erin?” Morgana leaned to look across you straight into the girl’s avoiding gaze.

“I… I don’t know. I’d like to. But it’s just… ya know, we’ve been through so much. We should learn how to exist without each other. How to live our own lives.”

She had a point. Ever since restoring your memories, all you’ve thought about was getting NLMO bacl together. But what if not everyone wanted to be together? What if, like Erin had just said, some of them wanted to grow apart? Start their own journeys that didn’t involve experiments or toruture or co-existing with people who could be taken and fundamentally changed at any minute. 

“I get that…” You offered quietly, earning yourself a look of indignation from Morgana and a look of gratitude from Erin. “Myself excluded, it’s hard to imagine any of the others lead extremely fulfilling lives in the seven years after the facility was destroyed. Maybe Erin has a point…” you paused, turning to Morgana’s thoughtfully hurt face. “Maybe it is the time for us to find our own ways. Obviously, that doesn’t mean we won’t be in touch with each other.”

“Exactly!” Erin encouraged with a broad smile, nodding emphatically as Morgana’s expression lightened slightly. 

“I guess so. I just… I don’t really know who I am outside of Nimlo. I’m sorta–”

“On the outside?”

Kurt’s voice chimed from above you, and the three of you looked up to see him swinging like a large, wingless bat from one of the windows. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I could hear you from my room. But I understand, Morgana.” Using his tail, he slowly lowered himself so he could drop to the floor, not wanting to startle the three of you any further by disappearing and reappearing in a cloud of smoke. “I uh– I know what it’s like to be on the outside of things…” He admitted quietly, almost sheepishly, and you cast a glance at Erin, who in turn wiggled her eyebrows at you.

“Yeah? What did you do?” She queried, looking the mutant up and down in a way that was just shy of innocent. 

“I stuck around here. Found my purpose. My purpose was with these people. Perhaps you find yours too.” You suppressed your knowing grin, the man’s shy smile making you almost giddy as Morgana pretended to think it over, placing her fingers on her chin theatrically. 

“Huh… Thanks for the advice, elf-man. I’ll think about it.” She winked in true Morgana fashion, and you gently tugged on Erin’s arm to leave the two of them out in the starlight, letting them have their moment the same way they let you have yours with Logan. 

“They’d be cute…” Erin mused, and you snorted a laugh, shrugging off Logan’s jacket as the warmth of the mansion made you almost sweat beneath the leather. 

“She’ll eat him alive.” You responded flatly, opening the door to the kitchen only for your eyes to land upon three mugs atop the table, the one in the centre you knew all too well, and the aroma of hot chocolate greeting your nose. Marshmallows slowly melted atop the surface, and you let yourself hum a smile as you lifted your mug to read the little, crinkled piece of paper beneath it, a brown circle staining the paper.

‘Cold out there. Warm up before coming to bed. I don’t mean you, Morgana. L. xx’

“I think I’m in love with your boyfriend,” Erin stated with a wry grin, lifting one of the three mugs to her lips and savouring the sweet treat. You sighed wistfully, letting the rich aromas warm you soul with the tenderness of the gesture.

“Yeah. I love him too.”

“Who are we collectively in love with?” Morgana asked, not too far behind the two of you having finished her conversation with Kurt. You didn’t exactly know what the two of them spoke about, but there was an extra kick in her step that hadn’t been present beforehand. You guessed, whatever it was, her life had some kind of direction now. 

“Logan.” You and Erin replied in unison, and Morgana nodded in exaggerated understanding, her eyes too falling on the sweet treat with an even sweeter meaning. 

“Was this him?”

“Yep.” You answered proudly, leaning against the counter, both hands cupped around the heat of the mug. 

“Oh girl you got it good. Do you know how good you got it? Cuz you got. It. Good.” Morgana hummed into her drink, and you really didn’t know how she managed to guzzle down half of the mug’s contents considering it was still scalding hot. But the way she sighed in satisfaction had you chortling. “Why can I have a smoking hot boyfriend who makes hot chocolate for me?”

“Because yours is busy pining from the room upstairs,” Erin commented over the steam of her drink, and you clamped your lips tightly shut, eyes widening as you knew Morgana definitely would have heard her.

“Aaaaand that’s my cue. Have a good night you two. Please try not to kill each other, it’s so tricky to get bloodstains out of this flooring.” You grinned, opening up one of the top cupboards and stealing a packet of smoked mixed nuts before you left, still clutching your hot drink in both hands. There was no way Logan would already be asleep by the time you joined him in bed, and you also knew there was no way he would say no to having a little pre-bed snack. Usually, that meant he’d lie between your thighs for hours, but you didn’t think you had the energy to let him have his way with you tonight. The mixed nuts were more of a distraction tactic than anything else. 

“Night girlie!”

“Sleep well, and please don’t be too loud if you have sex!” Morgana called after you and you sniggered under your breath. No promises, Morgana. You were making no promises.

Maybe you were the kind of person to bite at your cuticles and pull at the skin of your lips. You never thought you were, but more recently you’d found yourself with loose skin clutched between your teeth that you’d torn from your body. The air in the Blackbird was thick with anticipation, with silence accompanying the low hum of the jet engines and the constant roaring of blue flame. With Morgana and Kurt opposite you, Logan and Erin on either side of you, and Ororo, Scott, Jean and Kitty each taking up one of the seats, you’d all assembled that morning to finalise the plan of attack. It had taken Scott another few days after that argument to finally come around and agree to the idea of Jean occupying Naji whilst the rest of you set to work evacuating, and whilst he still wasn’t keen on the idea, Charles had managed to placate him with the reassurance that he would be right there with her from Cerebro. Nobody was going to be left on their own during this. You all knew you had somewhat of a battle coming up, and none of you were about to leave someone behind. 

It wasn’t in the nature of the team.

Your leg bounced slightly, every situation playing out in your head, what you were about to be faced with turning in your mind like a carousel of anxiety. Rowan. Rowan. What state would he be in when you saw him again? It had only been two weeks, but in all honesty, it had felt like months since you’d escaped again. It was highly likely all memories of you would have been replaced, but that didn’t mean you were ready to see the look of unfamiliarity on his face. Was this how Logan felt? The time he came for you? Or did he not have any ideas?

You glanced to where he’d settled his hand atop yours. You found it endearing, how he disguised his own comfort as providing comfort for you. You knew he didn’t like flying. He’d told you as such months ago. It freaked him out, being thousands of feet in the air with nothing but physics and steel standing in the way of plummeting to death. Well, some of you would die. If you landed in the middle of a field during the day, you’d be screwed for sure. 

Twisting your wrist, you intertwined your hands, slotting your fingers between his knuckles and squeezing gently. He raised a brow, turning from where he was looking out beyond the cockpit to where you were focused on tracing the patterns of the steel on the floor.  A thumb brushed gently across the back of your hand.

“Y’okay?” He murmured, and you took a deep breath, quickly debating between being truthful and everyone on the ship knowing how little confidence you had in this plan, and lying to him, which you really fucking hated doing. You knew he hated it too, but you didn’t know if you could face the uncertain looks that were bound to find their way to you if you were honest.

“Fine…” but you let him see right through to your soul, your eyes crystal clear as you showed him just how not fine you really were. You were terrified. Of seeing Kreva again, of seeing Rowan again, of something going wrong. And there were so many things that could go wrong. 

He responded by wordlessly pressing a kiss to your temple, the scruff of his beard lightly scratching the side of your face as you leaned into him, his hand leaving yours to wrap around your shoulders, resting his chin atop your head. You sighed into him, closing your eyes to bask in his scent. In his touch. This was home, for you. Wherever he was, that was home. Logan was your home. 

You hoped he knew that.

“Landing in five. Everyone ready?” Scott called from the pilot’s seat, flicking various switches above his head as you heard the clunk of the landing gear beneath your feet, the world around you fogging up as you dipped below the cloud cover, Scott engaging the cloaking device the moment you all saw the twilight ground beneath. Your heart leapt into your throat as you peeked around Kitty’s seat, the telltale lights of the ‘environmental research lab’ illuminating acres of land in the darkness. From the outside, it really did look innocent. Somewhere that was focused on saving the world through renewable energy. But you knew what lurked below. You’d hidden the skeletons in the closet for Kreva too many times to count. 

A bubble of rage curled in your gut. You’d thought long and hard about what you wanted to say to the man who’d orchestrated so much agony in your life. There was nothing you could do about his great grandfather, the fucking genius behind the whole idea, but you sure as hell could make his grandson wish he was never fucking born. 

In fact, you intended to.

Erin secured the various pockets on her cargo pants, each labelled with a different symbol for different plants. Morgana skillfully flicked about the butterfly knife in her hands, before slotting it back into the guard at her left wrist. It was the perfect position for a quick slice to her palm. 

You guessed everyone was ready, from the grim looks they gave each other. You suppose you were too. Or at least,a s ready as you could be before facing the horrors of your past once again, hopefully for the last time. With a nod to both Erin and Morgana, the three of you stood, taking a collective deep breath. 

“We got this,” Morgana said with more confidence than you felt, but you nodded along anyway. If you didn’t truly feel it, you supposed you’d just have to gaslight yourself into feeling it. This was the first stage of the plan. Draw them out. Since Erin had said Kreva apparently needed all of you to convince the government his experiments have yielded helpful results, you knew he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to get the three of you back in one fell swoop whilst assuming he has the upper hand. That was when Jean, who would remain on the ship, would take hold of Naji, and Kurt would start the evacuation. Scott, Ororo and Logan were mainly backups to keep the guards from interfering. But it was too simple, which was why your mind was working overtime to try and plan for every eventuality. 

Honestly, if he knew, Scott would be so proud of you.

“‘Course we do. Easy stuff in comparison to what we’re used to. This is nothing.” Erin grinned, and you honestly couldn’t believe she was so relaxed, considering how close she was to getting Atlas back. You would have thought she would have been a little more anxious, but you were glad to see she was holding herself up pretty damn well.

“Hey,” Logan uttered your name, inhaling a long breath as you turned back to him. This was the part he was least looking forward to, not that he was particularly looking forward to any of this. But simply having to watch you walk into danger, willingly, he knew it was going to tear him apart when it was first agreed upon, and now the moment was here, it was a shock he was able to keep himself together. “If anythin’… goes wrong, call f’me, ‘kay?” he braced both his hands on either side of your neck, his thumbs positioned beneath your jaw as if you would even try to look away from him. “I’ll hear ya. No matter where you are. I’ll always hear ya.”

Your arms snaked around his neck, fingers winding into the soft locks at the back of his head. “I will. I promise.” You vowed, gasping sharply as he fixed his lips to yours in a kiss you wished could last a lifetime. His mouth moulded passionately against yours in long, languid movements, as if he had all the time in the world. Your heart cracked slightly, refusing to entertain the possibility that, if something goes wrong, this could be the last time you hold him. But you quickly shoved all and any thought like that to the back of your mind. You wouldn’t let that happen, and you sure as shit knew Logan wouldn’t let that happen.

You parted breathlessly, whispering his name against his lips, you lashes fluttering open to find him already looking down at you, eyes brimming with shattering adoration. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” 

Logan shook his head, resting his brow against yours. “Don’t need to. Said you’re mine for as long as I’ll have ya.”

“Til one of us keels over.” You recalled, a small smile pulling at your lips. “We’ve got time.”

“I know.” He breathed, though he was still reluctant to let go of you. He knew he had to, for the sake of this one last mission, but he found himself hesitating. 

“I love you.” You whispered against his lips, and he hated how it sounded like a goodbye. It wasn’t, of course. He’d go through hell and back to make sure it wasn’t, but it still tugged at his heart.

“I love you too.” He responded with another press of his lips against yours. The ship shook slightly as the gear touched the ground, and Logan finally released you from his embrace, stepping back as if he had to physically keep himself from bolting after you the moment you left the hold. You knew how he felt. It was taking all of your concentration to walk away from him, every step feeling as if cement had filled your legs, heavy boots thumping against the ramp as you, Erin and Morgana stepped out into the cool night breeze, the whispering of trees left you feeling slightly unnerved, as if nature itself was alerting Kreva of your presence. 

Taking the lead, with two members of your old family flanking both sides, you steeled your nerves, flicking your wrist to summon three figures of shadow to tail further behind. They were a signal for the others. If one disappears, things have gone to plan. Two meant standby. And if all three disappeared…

It meant things had gone terribly, horrendously wrong. 

You broke through the lining of trees, the glass double doors looming above you as your boots cracked and crunched against the gravel car park for guards disguised as employees. It was no wonder nobody did much research into this place when on the outside it looked so inconspicuous. There was a slight whirr of movement atop the left-hand side of the door, a white security camera twisting and zooming in on your location. You knew exactly who was watching you, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your skin crawl. 

“KREVA!” You shouted, your voice echoing through the trees, several crows flying out from the canopy behind you. Shadows whipped and writhed around your feet as you stood just outside the cone of light from the interior, Morgana’s blood floating above her hand where she’d nicked it with her knife, Erin’s hand buried deep within her pocket, her fingers no doubt tightly wrapped around a cluster of seeds. 

A crackle of static slashed through the resulting silence of your own shout, and you looked to the other side of the door where two orange lights fluttered beneath two small speakers. 

“Well well well, I’d love to say what a surprise, but that would be a lie.” Kreva’s smug voice resonated through the car park and you bristled instantly, your lips pulling back into a snarl. “I’ve been waiting for you, Eight. Quite patiently, might I add? I could have just come and raided that quaint little school again, but where would be the fun in that? It’s much more fun to watch you deal with the betrayal when you realise what’s really been going on.” 

You had to remind yourself not to ask questions. You couldn’t appear clueless, that way he would know for sure he had the upper hand. The thought of being behind on intel scared the shit out of you. How could he possibly be ahead of you? You’d been gathering information for two weeks, and you knew Kurt was extremely careful. So how the fuck could he possibly–

Your blood froze as you felt the slightest brush of something against your boot, and looking down you could feel your face drain as tiny, scattered seeds littered about your feet. Before you had a chance to whip back, a shoulder collided with the centre of your back, sending you sprawling into the light, several heads of giant Venus Fly Traps surged towards you. With a desperate flick of your wrist, you released the hold you had on the three figures back at the ship, and you knew Logan would notice immediately before a sharp pressure across your chest squeezed the air from your lungs. Morgana’s screech of fury was cut dangerously short, and you refused to let the fear of her death consume you, your hands bound by your sides by the furious clamping of teeth.

Erin stepped passed the two of you and watched Kreva appear from within the facility, the doors of a lift opening from inside the lobby, the gangly motherfucker almost waltzing as he approached the double doors. Craning your neck, your eyes met Erin’s, and you could see her internal battle between explaining herself and staying silent. 

“I didn’t have a choice…” she said after a while, tears lining her eyes. “He only needs you and Rowan. That’s what he said. He didn’t need us. And if I handed you over… he’d set the rest of us free.” She finally explained, and your throat tore with a scream of rage. How fucking stupid could she be? Did she really not know, after all this time, Kreva was fucking lying? 

“And Morgana?” you strained, watching grief pass across Erin’s features, her eyes flickering with sorrow. 

“She wouldn’t have understood. But you always wanted to protect us, right? And this way, you can protect us and set us free at the same time. I… I’m sorry, about Morgana. But this was the only way.” 

“I should have– fucking killed you!” You hissed, writhing within the jaws of the Fly Trap, crying out as one of the teeth flicked back and pierced your arm, heated blood flowing down your elbow. 

“Now now, Eight. That’s no way to talk to your family now is it?” Kreva held out his arms as if he expected Erin to run and embrace him. But at least she had the good sense to hold back, eyeing the man suspiciously. “I know what you’re thinking. How could Six have possibly told me what was going on?” He jeered, spinning where he stood as a familiar roar echoed in the distance. Your breath petrified in your chest

“Logan…” you rasped, desperation clawing at your limbs as you fought to tear your arm from the Trap’s teeth, uncaring whether the plant tore through flesh and muscle. You’d endured worse.

“You know what’s just so darn wonderful about the age of technology? It’s that nobody really notices how much or how little time someone spends on their phone! And when we received that first call from Six, oh you can just imagine how excited I was!” Your eyes flew wide as you remembered. It wasn’t something you had particularly took note of, and it wasn’t like Erin had been glued to her phone, but there had been a few instances you thought she was on it at inappropriate times. 

Like in planning meetings, for example. 

“We had a deal, Kreva. Eight for Atlas. I don’t care about the others, just give me Atlas and I’ll turn her over.” Erin clenched her fist and you grit your teeth against the mouth of the Fly Trap tightening around you, spots swimming in your vision. 

“Yes yes, alright. Five!” Your head spun as you watched your brother materialise from the light, Atlas’ elbow held tightly in his grip as he brought him through too. You watched his golden eyes fall on you, recognition flaring in his irises and you thought for one small moment Kreva hadn’t messed with his memory. 

That was before his expression darkened with fury and he extended his hand, a blade of glowing light forming around his arm, the same way you could create one with shadow.

“Take a breath, Five. I know. But revenge is a dish best served cold, especially against one’s own family. I remember the day she abandoned you without so much as a glance back. Do you?”

So that’s what Kreva had replaced you with. Memories of abandonment. You opened your mouth to scream again, only for Kreva to place a finger to your lips, Erin’s hand squeezing even tighter. “Shh, shush now. I haven’t even got to the best part yet. You see, I know of the little backup squad you have in the clearing over there. I didn’t just want Six’s betrayal to tear you apart, Subject Eight. I wanted to break you down, for everything you’ve done to me.” Quivering rage seeped into his voice before he took a breath, that same condescending smile pulling at his lips the moment after he composed himself. “So I sent Naji after your boyfriend. I’d be powerful with both you and Five on my side, but with The Wolverine as well? I’d be nigh on unstoppable.” He whispered, and terror replaced every furious fibre of your being. You hadn’t heard anything from the rest of the team since Logan’s roar. That was until heavy boots crunched through the undergrowth accompanied by the sound of something weighty being dragged along. 

“Who needs an army when you have The Wolverine?!” Kreva called out to an invisible audience as Logan lumbered through the tree line, a body slung across his shoulder and another two dragged behind in each hand. A sob wracked from your chest as you noticed his dark eyes, no trace of the fond warmth you’d come to find in those hazel irises. Covered in blood, Logan threw the two bodies at his feet, before carefully lowering the third from his shoulder. Naji, with a singed hole punctured through the centre of his chest, lay still on the gravel. 

“Shot him ‘fore I could do anythin’. Rest’re dead.” He growled and grief shattered your fragile heart. In one fell swoop, everything you loved had been ripped from beneath your feet and you felt yourself plummet, falling completely limp in the jaws of the Venus Fly Trap as the cold realisation settled in your gut. 

You’d lost. You’d lost everything.

Kreva sighed dramatically, kicking his heels against the ground as he crossed to nudge Naji with his foot. “Shame. Would have been useful to readjust her memories. Not to worry though, we’ll figure something out. Who’re these lovely specimens?” He asked, crouching low next to a blood-soaked Ororo and an unconscious Scott.

“That’s the shit-stick who shot One. That’s the bitch who fried Three.” Logan responded the complete lack of emotion in his voice dragging you deeper into disparity. Joes was dead too, it seemed. What had happened to Jean? To Kitty? You didn’t want to think about it. You already knew the answer. The crimson dripping from Logan’s knuckles told you all you needed to know. 

“You see, Eight? Things could have been so much smoother. Nobody had to die but now look. Everyone you’ve ever loved is either dead or against you. And I can’t force you to forget about it because One is dead too. We’re now the same, you and I. We both have to live with the consequences of our actions.” He spoke in mock mourning, and your eyes slid from Kreva to Logan as he was escorted to your side.

“Please…” You whispered thickly, whether you were begging him to remember or begging him to kill you, you honestly didn’t know. But a hollow void opened in your chest when you couldn’t see any trace of recognition in his eyes. He didn’t know who you were. 

Now you knew what it felt like.

“Kreva.” Erin prompted with steel lacing her tone. “Our deal.”

“Right, right, yeah. Uhm, actually, no.” Before she could react, Rowan took a swift step forward and with a swipe of his blade, cut a clean slice through her throat. Erin gurgled a gasp, her hands slowly reaching for the fresh wound, thick rivers of blood staining her pale skin, leaking down her neck, soaking her shirt. She fell to her knees, eyes wide with shock, the Fly Trap loosening its grip around your body as it died alongside her, shrivelling and sinking into nothing.  

You hit the ground with a soft thud, rolling slightly before bracing your body up on your elbows. You couldn’t turn around. Couldn’t turn and face everything you’d lost. Morgana was dead. Erin was dead. Kitty was dead. Scott, Ororo, Jean, Joes, Naji… 

And the Logan you knew, the Logan you loved, he was gone too. The sharp tip of a blinding blade sliced a thin line beneath your chin, tilting your head up to look into the eyes of your brother, eyes burning with loathing and betrayal. How ironic it seemed. 

You could let him do it. Lean forward and let the blade pierce your throat, die gurgling as Erin had if your body didn’t dissolve first. But you knew you couldn’t. Your subconscious strength to survive against all odds wouldn’t let you. 

With the slight crunch of gravel, Kreva crouched down before you, tucking a grimy lock of hair back from your face with disgusting care. “I’ve spent too long orchestrating this to let anything happen to you. Now, I know it will be harder without Naji to adjust that irritating little memory of yours, but you need to come back to us, Eight. We need you. Your brother needs you,” he murmured with the viper venom of an unfaithful lover. You didn’t fight it. You couldn’t. You let the yearning to be needed, the yearning to save consume you, and despite all the pain, all the agony Kreva had caused, you nodded slightly. “You were always my favourite subject, Eight,” he whispered, before turning back to Atlas and Rowan, the former’s eyes still trained on Erin’s lifeless body. “Deal with the bodies in the clearing. Wolverine, if you would be so kind.” He gestured back to where you hadn’t moved from the floor, and Logan stepped over you, roughly hooking his hands beneath your arms to tug you to your feet. An hour ago, you would have melted into his body, found comfort in those very same arms. 

Now all you felt was fear. Icy terror trickled down your spine where once you’d felt warmth. And whether it was because you still hadn’t processed everything you’d just lost in a heartbeat, you couldn’t discern, but your shattered heart felt the slightest phantom caress of his thumb against your bicep, the ghost of a reassuring squeeze.

The same gesture of comfort he’d give you if you were anxious in a meeting, or stressed before a class. 

Kreva glanced from where he was watching Atlas and Rowan stalk into the trees back to you, his brows raising as his eyes settled at the hollow of your throat, the golden locket glinting in the low light. With a tilt of his head, he took a step toward you, reaching out to where it rested against your neck.

“Firefly.”

Your spine straightened, breath caught in your throat as you realised. You hadn’t imagined the touch. It wasn’t some fucked up production of your overwhelming grief. With a swift slash of steel and a thick, wet crunch of splitting bone, there was a beat before you registered what had happened.

Kreva’s outstretched hand twitched on the gravel, blood staining the stone, no longer connected to his arm. There was a deafening scream of agony from the man before all hell broke loose. Shock had locked your limbs as you were shoved back, the crackle of lightning and resonating boom of thunder split the sky overhead, blasts of red energy igniting the treeline as a pitched ringing pierced your eardrums repeatedly. 

“Morgana…” You whispered, finally coming back to your senses and almost falling over yourself to get to the red-head lying limp on the floor. Sharp stones and pebbles bit into your knees as you skidded to her side, desperately rolling her onto her back to assess the damage. Her neck was swollen badly, bruises blooming around her throat. With two shaky fingers, you held them against her wrist, praying you’d feel something, anything that might even resemble a pulse. 

You waited, whilst various screams and roars echoed around you, you waited with bated breath, trying to concentrate on just feeling for her, your own panic rising the longer it took. 

“C’mon Morgo… c’mon!” You breathed frantically, pressing harder into her wrist as if you could pull a pulse from her arteries yourself. You tried to take a deep, calming breath, your own racing pulse getting in the way of feeling one for her. Quietening your mind, if only for a moment, you focussed, heart, leaping the moment you felt the slightest push from her wrist. Faint, slow, but there. 

A cry of relief tore from your throat as you gathered her in your arms, pressing your brow against hers. The rapid crunch of feet against gravel caused you to snap your head up, arms tightening around her body protectively, baring your teeth as Atlas raced towards you, his brows pinched. 

“It’s me, it’s me!” He held his hands up in surrender, and you blinked at him, confusion clouding your mind.

“Wh–– How? I don’t–”

“I don’t remember everything. Not like you do. But after you escaped, Kreva was so focused on Rowan that he almost forgot I was here. By the time he remembered, I let him think Naji had already worked on me. He showed me what I needed to know, that this was all a fucking lie.” His hands started to glow that healing blue, glowing particles flowing from his palms to wrap around Morgana’s neck, entering through the layers of her skin and repairing whatever it was Erin had broken.

Erin…

Oh fuck.

“Altas, I–”

“I’ll get to her in a second. Just… just give me a moment.” He hissed, the bruises around Morgana’s neck fading quickly as if they were never there. You still didn’t understand. Less than a minute ago, you were drowning in helplessness, forcing yourself to accept that you’d lost. Kreva had won. And now, as you finally raised your head to the chaos around you, you watched as he retreated into the facility, alarms blaring, crimson lights flaring.

And Logan, bloodstained and heaving, looking back to meet your eye. With one last glance to Atlas and a quickly healing Morgana, you struggled to your feet, taking a shaky step toward him. Then another. And another. 

Logan hesitated as he saw the trepidation on your face, his claws sinking back between his knuckles when you paused before him. He knew what you were searching for, your exhausted gaze flickering across his features and he let you see. Let you see that none of it had been real. Jean was alive and working on an unconscious Joes. Scott and Ororo were okay, Kitty by their side after securing the car park, all and any guards now buried beneath the ground suffocating. Kurt was alright, currently by Morgana’s side after bamfing onto the scene, his concern etched into his pinched eyebrows. 

“It was the only way we could get to you…” he explained softly, his voice bringing you back from the depths of suspicion, your features falling slack as you surged forward into his arms, and he wasted no time in wrapping you up, securing you against his chest.

“I thought I lost you,” You whispered raggedly against his neck, allowing the paralysing fear to leech from your heart. “I thought Naji–”

“He tried,” Logan interrupted tenderly, his fingers winding through the back of your hair. “But Scott got to him first. I’m sorry, Firefly. I’m so sorry. Joes is okay, Jean’s working on him now, but there wasn’t anything we could do for Naji…” He explained quietly, and you nodded a little numbly. In the face of losing everything, you guessed this was the best outcome you could have hoped for. 

“Where’s Rowan?” You asked, leaning into Logan’s touch as he cradled the side of your face, pulling you from the crook of his neck to look into your eyes.

“Still with Kreva. Bastard disappeared the moment Storm lit the place up. I think he’s lookin’ to burn everythin’ to the ground…”

Your breath hitched, remembering that this was Kreva’s backup plan. If he couldn’t get you back, he’d destroy everything and leave no evidence. Only the words of those who’d survive.

If anyone would survive. 

“I have to stop him. Rowan will destroy himself.” You explained, panic solidifying into determination as several muffled shouts echoed through the car park, torchlights waving erratically in the darkness and body upon armoured body flooded the entrance to the facility, three rows of masked guards pointed guns towards you and Logan. A low snarl left his lips, and he subtly moved you behind him, removing his hands from your body before his claws split through his skin.

A delicate hand on your shoulder made your head turn, Kitty’s steely smile telling you all you needed to know. She could get you there. Phase through bullets and bodies and get you to Rowan. To where you needed to be.

“Phasers forever, right?” She grinned, and you felt your own mouth split into a smile. Ororo flanked her left side, Scott sliding to a stop by Logan’s right. You knew this was it. This was the make or break. Either you succeeded here or you failed but no matter what, everything ended tonight. Right here. Where it all began. 

“Hey… freakshow!” You whipped to look behind you at the croaky, strained voice of Morgana, looking a little worse for wear but nonetheless on her feet. You sobbed a laugh of disbelief. “Give him hell for me, yeah? Fucker gets what’s comin’ to him.”

You grit your teeth, sending her a solid affirming nod, before turning back to the ranks in front of you. The back of Logan’s hand grazed your fingers, and it warmed your heart when you realised, even when faced with countless adversaries, he was still mindful not to hurt you with his claws. You brushed your thumb over his raised knuckles, bending your knees in preparation for the sprint of a lifetime, adrenaline coursing through your veins. 

“Let’s fucking go.” You hissed, taking the first step forward. 

And that was all that was needed for gunfire to reign supreme, bullets passing through your body thanks to Kitty’s touch on your shoulder, racing harmlessly through the prattle of shrapnel, Storm’s lightening striking the earth in front of you, Logan’s roar of pure, unfiltered rage fueling your every step. A burst of blinding hot energy exploded the front of the facility, rubble and brick crashing down in front of the door just as you stepped through the threshold, the immediate cacophony of battle muffling the moment you emerged on the other side. 

Pulling out of Kitty’s grip, you raced back to the ruined doorway, desperately pulling away rocks and wood. You needed to see him. You needed to make sure he was okay before you followed Rowan and Kreva. A loud thump rattled the remaining broken glass and you jumped back, watching as blood pooled on the floor, seeping through the remains of the porch. 

“We gotta go. They’ll be fine, okay? But they won’t be if you can’t stop Rowan.” Kitty urged, her hand returning to your shoulder to placate your panic. You knew she was right. You knew she was, and you knew you had to let it go. You trusted him. Of course you did. You trusted he would be okay. You’d seen him heal multiple times from so much worse than this. He’ll be okay.

He’ll be okay.

With a deep breath, you nodded, and she pulled your shoulder slightly in the direction of the elevator. It was surreal to think that, all this time, whilst you were screaming and suffering, this was above you. It looked no different to any other kind of research facility. Banners with cartoon images of trees hung from the ceiling, the words ‘Renewable Energy!’ plastered on every available surface. If you had the time, you would have looked around a bit to see just how the Kreva’s had managed to cover their tracks so damn well. But urgency pumped through your blood as you reached the elevator doors, almost punching the button through the damn wall.

But there was no response. No telltale ding. No little light. The power had been completely shut off. 

“Fuck’s sake!” You cursed, your eyes frantically searching for a shadow to slip into. But it was difficult to see with the crimson lighting constantly revolving in circles. This already wasn’t exactly going to plan, and with more voices dancing along from various forking hallways, you knew you were running out of time. 

“Okay, I got a plan,” Kitty stated confidently, crouching low to the seam of the doors and sticking her hand through the solid surface. “So, predictably, the elevator isn’t up here. But, I’m thinking that it’s gonna be real dark in the shaft, right?” She explained and you caught on quickly. “So I get us in there and you get us to the bottom without breaking either of our legs. Sound good?”

“Works for me.” You shrugged, sending one last look to the raging battle beyond the rubble. But when Kitty didn’t move, you looked back at her, raising a brow of confusion. “What?”

“Nothing… just wasn’t expecting you to agree, that’s all. Was kinda waiting for you to tell me you’ll figure it out yourself so yeah, a bit shocked…”

“Now is not the time.” You huffed, grabbing her wrist to place her hand back on your shoulder. “We’ll talk about my teamwork character arc later, ‘kay?” Kitty smiled wickedly, sticking half her body through the doors. 

“I’ll hold you to that.”

One moment you were in the lobby, the next you were falling through the elevator shaft. She was right above one thing. It was almost pitch black inside. Taking advantage of the low lighting, you gripped her tightly, releasing the threads on your body and pulling her into the shadows with you. The wind in your ears died instantly, and the feeling of gravity pulling you to your death ceased. You were nothing. You weighed nothing. You were a concept. Consciousness. A sense. You flowed like water and flew like time. 

And it took less than a second to drag yourself and Kitty down to the ceiling of the elevator below you, reassembling your molecules and knotting the threads of Kitty back together for her. She took a deep breath, her voice echoing up the shaft as she shook herself out. 

“God it always feels so weird! Does it feel weird when I phase you like that?” She asked, wiggling her fingers in front of her face to make sure they were all still there. You shook your head with a small chuckle, cracking your neck to the side. 

“Not really. Sure, it’s kinda weird to have shit pass straight through me, but not in this kinda way, I guess.” You shrugged, letting her gather herself back up before phasing the both of you through the ceiling of the elevator and through the closed doors. 

Now this was the facility you remembered. The images struck you like a ton of bricks. Clinical white hallways, bleached ceilings and walls, blinding lights on every damn surface. The stench of chemical cleaner and stale blood sent your empty stomach roiling and you had to fight the urge to dry retch. You knew where he’d be. At least, you could hazard a guess. There was always a room reserved for you and Rowan. It was your special little chamber where Kreva liked to run his experiments. A wall splitting the two of you, one drowned in shadow, the other illuminated with light. 

Steeling your nerves, you let your feet walk you down the world’s worst memory lane. For a place that had been destroyed seven years ago, they’d rebuilt it as if nothing had ever happened. Each corner was exactly the same. Each observation room was perfectly curated to mirror what it had been like before everything went to shit. It was all hauntingly familiar. 

“You okay…?” Kitty asked slowly, her eyes flickering across each laboratory you walked passed, and you didn’t have the heart to tell her you knew exactly what each and every room was for. You knew exactly what instruments lay where and what they did. You didn’t need her to know any of that. It wasn’t her burden to bear.

“Yeah… ‘m okay. S’wierd being back here, but I’m okay.” You responded truthfully, surprising yourself with how well you were taking it. It didn’t matter that every damn second you had to remind yourself you weren’t trapped here, and you were free and had been free of Kreva for the last two weeks, and the last seven years before that. You were okay. You would be okay. This was where everything ended. After this, you could do whatever the hell you wanted.

With Logan by your side. 

You rounded the corner and stopped as you came face to face with your past. Two doors stood opposite you. One for Five, and the other for Eight. For you. Kitty hung back as you squared your shoulders, taking the next few steps and using every ounce of faux confidence you could muster as you entered the code into the keypad, the one you’d seen Kreva or TS8 do so many damn times. With a hiss of machinery, the door slid open, and once again you had to remind yourself you were okay. He didn’t have you. You were free of him. 

The same table taunted you from the centre of the room. Worn leather straps lying limp on each four corners. You remembered every little detail of the steel. Every faded mark on the floor. You’d counted every little hole in the paneled ceiling and traced the round light above you as you waited for whatever experiment Kreva was about to run to start. What you never realised until now, however, was the one-way mirror across the far side of the room. You always assumed it was so you could watch whatever they were doing to you, simply yet another form of torture. But it only now occurred to you this was where the Kreva’s would watch from. This was where they would note down everything they discovered.

That was where he was now. You could almost fucking smell him. 

With a flick of your wrist, eight figures rose from the shadows in the room, each of them awaiting your command, twitching with apprehension. You didn’t need to say anything. You never did with them. Wordlessly, they each stood facing the mirror, arms raised, shadows writhing about their hands until they solidified into spiked maces. 

As one, eight shadows of your past shattered the glass effortlessly, shards of reflection scattering about their feet, revealing the observation room behind, the stench of fresh blood permeating the lab. 

Dissolving into the shadows, you reappeared beyond the window, finding a sick sense of satisfaction as you watched Kreva desperately clamber behind a console, papers and electronics clattering to the floor. You said nothing, those eight figures coming to stand patiently behind you, heads glitching and shifting. 

“I made you what you are.” He spat, blood dribbling from his mouth, his glasses shattered and sitting askew atop his nose, scarlet stump clutched against his chest. “This world would have torn you to pieces. I saved you from that. I harnessed your power. Everything I did was in the name of creating a better world!” 

You stalked forward with deadly quiet, letting the shadows overtake you and flank either side of the man whose family name had tortured you for over eighty years. You truly didn’t know what you would say to him if this moment ever came. You hadn’t let yourself think about it because you never thought it would.

But standing here, with all the power in your hands, a stark contrast to the rest of your life, you smiled. Not that warm, comforting smile you reserved only for the people you loved. You smiled like the edge of a knife, slicing through tender meat. You smiled like the adder before striking a rodent. You smiled like the shark after a meal. 

“You tortured me,” you began, one of the shadows lunging forward with clinical precision to land a blow through Kreva’s shoulder, relishing in the scream of agonised terror. “You tortured my friends,” another white-hot slice to his other hand, that same sick crunch of splitting bone as his hand flopped onto the floor. “You came for the people I care about,” a void-like hand thrust through his calf, blood and tendons exploding as the figure solidified its limb within his body, pieces of muscle and marrow splattering over the console and wall. “You tried to take the man I love,” you remembered vaguely Jade’s request, and though you didn’t command it, one of the shadows sent its foot straight into his crotch and Kreva doubled over, unable to scream through breathless agony. “And that very power you say you harnessed. That very power you nurtured,” you paused, crouching low and lifting his face akin to the way he’d done earlier at your lowest point. “I’m going to watch as it tears you apart.” You hissed, dropping his head to take a step back as every single on of those figures sank into his body, hiding within the shadows of his absent heart.

“Every part the demon I made you.” He gurgled, choking on his own blood.

“And so much more.” You responded as black tendrils entered his bloodstream, staining his veins, spiderwebbing up the side of his neck, invading his eyes before they rolled into the back of his head. You’d given them free rein to do what they wanted. You would let the shadows of your broken family get their revenge in any way they chose. 

Kreva convulsed on the floor, his back bowing as if possessed, limbs twitching and locking, foam gathering at the corners of his mouth as his death was elongated, pain creasing his eyes, mouth agape in a silent scream as your shadows tore apart every fibre of his being, 

On a molecular level.

He fell silent for a moment, stilling on the ground, before there was a loud, earsplitting crack, and you barely had time to raise a solid wall of darkness before entrails and tissue painted every surface crimson, white sharks of bone piercing into the walls, embedding into the ceiling. 

The wet dripping of pulp falling from the ceiling was the only sound in the following silence, the weight of the moment settling on your shoulders, forcing you to your knees. 

He was dead.

Kreva was dead. 

The man who’d caused so much pain. So much terror. Who’d forced you to commit the worst acts of humanity, the sole reason for the overwhelming self-hatred…

He was dead. 

You felt a sob rise in your throat, and you set it free, your shoulders shaking from the sheer force of your cries. Every moment of torture. Every fibre of agony released in your earthshaking screams, your voice scratching, tearing at your throat. You knew the moment couldn’t last. You knew you still had to find Rowan. But with Kreva dead, your chances of getting him back had just increased tenfold. 

Bracing your hands against the cool floor, you let yourself tremble under the weight of freedom, feeling the ghost of shackles around your wrists and ankles fall away, the claws around your neck releasing. 

“You killed him…”

You drew in a shaky breath, the familiarity of that voice tugging at the threads of your heart. Struggling to your feet, you turned to face your brother, Rowan standing in the shadows of the room made for you, his eyes wide with an emotion you couldn’t quite read.

“Yeah. It’s over, Rowan. You’re safe now. We’re all safe now. You can come home with me,” you breathed, extending your hand toward him through the shattered mirror. “You don’t have to hurt anymore. I’m here. I’m here…” you reassured, taking a step toward the gap between you with the intention of drawing him into your arms.

“You killed him…” he said again, his expression shifting to something you recognised all too well. “You abandoned me here, to suffer at the hands of these demons, and you killed the only man who showed me any kindness…”

You blinked as the lights on the console flared slightly. “No… that’s what he made you think. That’s what you remember because it was a memory he put there. But it isn’t real. Come with me. I can show you. Please… I can show you everything.” You begged, suffering the slice to your hand as you slid through the shattered glass of the mirror, now standing opposite him, arms open. “It’s okay… you’re safe now. He’s gone. You’re–”

You didn’t have time to finish your sentence before a flare of pure light from the hallways beyond blasted you to the side, your spine cracking against the wall, head splitting with the impact. Your vision blurred slightly, pain exploding in your mind as you struggled to regain your breath. Through the swimming haze, you could see Kitty’s arm on the door through the doorway, the rest of her body lying still on the ground beyond. 

“You took everything from me.” Rowan loomed over you, glowing wings of light flaring wide from his shoulder blades. “Now I’m going to take it all back.”

Logan heaved a snarling breath as he retracted his claws from the helmeted head of yet another faceless guard, casting a calculating glance at the bodies littering the ground, some fried, some missing various limbs, but all dead. Soaked in blood, he watched as Scott sent another beam through one of the last men standing, Ororo sending another flying over the treetops with pinpoint accuracy. 

The car park fell still as the final assailant was annihilated, falling headless to its knees, body twitching before falling still. It was eerie how silent the night felt after so much bloodshed, but Logan’s thoughts immediately turned back to you. You were down there somewhere, stopping Rowan however you could. Was Kreva still alive? Or had you already dealt with him?

A darker question entered his head, and it drove him to move. 

Were you still alive?

“Scott, I need a doorway,” was all he said, pacing over to the crumbled ruins blocking the door. Surprisingly, there was no flood of protests from Cyclops, only a sharp nod of agreement before a beam of white-hot energy sailed through the rubble, melting rocks and burning wood effortlessly. Logan breathed a quick “Thanks,” before breaking into a run, mindful to avoid the liquid fire Scott had created before he was jogging through the lobby, red lights reflecting off every surface. It was the perfect representation of his mind when his ears twitched, catching a distant scream from below. 

He breathed your name, panic sending his heart racing as he spared a quick glance to the rest of the team behind him, Ororo immediately picking up on his change of demeanour. 

“Go. We’ll clean up the rest here.” She urged as more torches pointed down either side of the hallway into the lobby. How many more of these fuckers were there? But he trusted they could handle it. He had to trust them if he wanted to get to you. With a sharp nod of gratitude, Logan turned back to the elevator, his claws sinking through the surface and cutting out a square large enough to fit through. He couldn’t look back, not as the prattle of gunfire started up again.

With his heart in his throat, Logan plunged into the darkness, slicing his claws through either side of the steel walls to slow his descent, sparks and the pitched squeal of slicing metal accompanied his fall until his feat touched a solid surface. Crouching low, he sliced through the top of the elevator, jumping through the gap before repeating the same thing on the double doors. He remembered the last time he was here, the familiar panic as he searched for you, hoping that you’d be okay, praying that you’d still be alive. He felt that same urgency now as he raced down the hallways, the lights above flaring and dimming erratically. 

Rowan.

It had to be. 

There couldn’t be any other explanation. 

The thought had him moving faster, enhanced hearing picking up every clash of power, every hiss of shadow and burst of light. 

Every pained gasp. 

You panted heavily, blood leaking from your nose as you once again rose to your feet, shadows swirling around your finger on one hand, your other cloaked in a blade of darkness as you faced your brother. 

No, this wasn’t your brother anymore. This was Solaris. This was your equal and your opposite. A similar rivulet of crimson flowed down over his lip, the result of the harsh punch you’d thrown at him before, his nose now sitting at a crooked angle. The wall between your rooms had been obliterated, dust and rubble littering the ground where he’d thrown you through into his assigned lab. Darkness in the light. Light in the darkness. You opposed each other, twin wings flaring threateningly. 

You couldn’t talk him out of this. You needed him to back down of his own free will. You couldn’t teleport him out of here like you could the others. But you knew he was too far gone. You knew you couldn’t get him to stop.

But you couldn’t fail here. 

A sharp call of your name distracted you for a moment, your black eyes widening as you saw Logan in the doorway, his expression frantic as he looked you over, from the tip of your blade to the claws of your wings. 

Solaris looked between you, a roar of betrayed agony tearing from his lips as he lunged forward, his own blade of light swinging in a high arc above his head to split your skull. You met him blow for blow, parry for parry, fighting to ignore Logan’s presence in the door. With a stray gesture, you raised a solid wall of shadow before him, an immovable, impenetrable barrier between him and your brother. 

Logan stepped back as a solid wall of darkness rose from the ground, pressing his hand against it to test its durability. What the hell did you think you were doing? Why were you stopping him? He pushed against it, finding finding equal resistance. Pushing again, he was met with his own strength coming back at him. His breath caught in his throat. Through the shifting shadow, he could see your silhouette standing against Solaris, the two of you having separated for a moment before trading blows once again. Logan sent his fist colliding into the wall, feeling the crack of bone before his hand quickly healed and he tried again. 

With half your concentration focused on keeping up the barrier protecting the man you loved, you received the point of Solaris’ blade through your abdomen, your gut twisting with pain as you strained a gasp, hearing Logan’s roar of despair fueled rage from behind the now flickering wall. Solaris pulled his blade back, his eyes nothing but pits of blinding light, the opposite of your own. 

“You can’t save them. You will burn.” He spat, taking a step back as you fell to a knee, pain consuming your system as you tried in vain to cover the wound with your hand, crimson blood flowing through your fingers like sand. 

But he was wrong. He was so wrong. Golden light started to flare from the centre of his chest, erasing every shadow from the room, and bleaching the surfaces of darkness. All shadows bar one. 

All shadows but your own. 

Charles’ words echoed through your head. ‘She cannot disappear into her own shadow or she will be lost.’ ‘That’s why we called you back. We’ve been lucky so far.’

Closing your eyes, you let a stray tear slip down your cheek, and Logan’s heart stilled in his chest. 

“No… No, no NO!” His voice ripped through his throat, claws slashing at the wall of darkness you managed to maintain. “Don’t– Don’t do THIS PLEASE! DON’T… don’t do this.” His words diminished as you turned to look through the barrier, a small smile of acceptance pulling at the corners of your lips, blood staining your teeth. 

You could save them. You could save them all. 

And all it would cost was your life. 

“Til one of us keels over…” you offered him one last promise before you surged forward to where Solaris burned bright, and he barely had time to scream your name as your own shadow flared up around you as you leapt into the blaze, your body disintegrating into shadow.

Logan watched as darkness consumed the glow, a visceral battle between shadow and light, your mutation finally releasing itself around your brother, dragging him into the void with you. The wall fell away, fading back into nothing as he lost you to the very thing you were training against. 

A prison of your own making hummed where you’d leapt forward, a sphere of glassy void, both you and your brother locked away safely where he couldn’t hurt anyone…

And he could never see you again. 

An ever-changing cell of light and dark. 

He lunged forward, vocal cords ripping in his throat as he screamed your name again and again, punching against the surface until his knuckles bled and blood splattered across the floor. Breath singed his lungs as he sobbed. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was going to spend the rest of his life with you. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. 

So why was the rest of your life taken from you? Why did he have to spend the rest of his life alone? Why was he always fucking alone? He only just got you back.

And you were gone again. This time, for good. 

You saved him. You saved him from so many sleepless nights. So many times he’d wake up to find comfort in your slow breathing next to him, placing the side of his head against your chest, feeling your breaths, listening to your heartbeat. You saved him. But the price of doing so was losing you.

Strength left his body as he crumbled to his knees. This had been your choice. You’d sealed yourself away in a cell of flickering light and swirling shadow, imprisoning Solaris along with you for the rest of time. You’d disintegrated into your own silhouette like Charles had constantly warned you against. And you’d done it to save the people that you love. 

Logan placed his hand against the buzzing wall of light and dark, pressing his forehead against the incarnation of your mutation, hoping against hope that somehow, somewhere, you were still in there. Your whispered name fell from his lips, tears falling ceaselessly to darken the floor in droplets, his head bowed low. The light from within flared and faded rhythmically, glowing inside the empty black of shadow. 

Much like the light of a firefly. 

“Please…” he whispered. “I love you. I love you.” His chest was wracked with silent sobs.

“Logan!” Ororo’s voice echoed through the chamber as she slid to a stop in the doorway, a gasp flying from her lips. “What…?” She could barely comprehend what she was seeing. “Where is she?” She asked quietly, her footsteps too loud in the grieving silence of the room. He couldn’t find his voice through the choking heartbreak in his throat. 

“Logan…?” Morgana stepped carefully through the doorway, a badly injured Kitty supported by her shoulder, blood leaking from a wound on her head. The redhead fell silent as she realised what had happened. “She did it…” she whispered, melancholy lacing her tone. “She did it.”

A new wave of grief suffocated his chest as her words struck his heart. You had. You’d done it. But in doing so, you’d sacrificed everything. 

“No…” Kitty whimpered, struggling to free herself from Morgana’s hold to get to you. “That’s not her… it’s not her!” She cried, staggering forward only to fall to the ground a few steps later, a yelp of grief-stricken pain piercing the air. Logan looked back numbly, his eyes meeting hers as she looked at him pleadingly. “Tell me… tell me it’s not her…” she begged, her voice thick with emotion. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t tell her it wasn’t you. And the longer his silence lingered, the more hope drained from her eyes and she sobbed into her arm.

It was all he could do to go to her and drag her into his arms, listening to his own heartbreak shatter in every single one of her cries. He screwed his eyes shut, letting her shudder in his arms. 

“I’m sorry…” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

He knew there was nothing he could have done. You’d sealed him out for a reason. You’d shut him away because you knew this was what you’d have to do. And you knew he would have stopped you. He would let the world burn for you, but you wouldn’t allow it. Because living with himself after would have been impossible.

You saved him from that. You’d saved him from himself. 

“She's gone…?” Scott asked softly, joining the grieving group and reading the room. Morgana nodded in confirmation, and his jaw tightened. It was then Logan knew this wasn’t what he wanted. He spoke the truth when he’d said all those months ago he didn’t want you gone. He didn’t want you neutralised. 

“She saved our lives…” Ororo offered quietly, as if fearful her voice would break if she spoke any louder. Logan turned back to the sphere of shadow and the light pulsing within.

You’d saved so many people in your life. A sharp contrast to how many you’d hurt. But he knew you’d be happy with this. You were okay with this. Your last act was one of saving, not hurting. So he would live for you. He would live in a way you’d be proud of. Placing his hand back against the surface of your mutation, he let the promise seep through his palms as if somehow you could hear his intentions. 

“See you soon, Firefly.”

[skipper1331]

Hard to get // Guro Reiten

Guro had a massive crush on you. The moment she saw you, she knew. It was the way you smiled that made her heart race, the sound of your laugh that made her stomach flip, the kindness you shared.

The two of you went on a few dates already but nothing more than that happened. After every date Guro wouldn‘t answer your messages for at least two days. It annoyed you. She was a lovely girl and going out with her was amazing, she treated you right but her behaviour afterwards? You didn‘t like it at all. It sent mixed signals. Did she want you or not?

Unknown to you Sam Kerr and Erin Cuthbert, her Chelsea teammates, told her to act tough, hard to get. She didn‘t know why but her experience with dating someone wasn‘t the greatest so she just listened and did so. It was a strategy that should make her more interesting, more likable for you.

But you had enough. You wanted to know if it was something serious because in your eyes it was. So you made up a plan. Maybe it was unnecessary, maybe even childish but two can play a game.

Guro 💞

I‘ll pick you up at six;)

That was it. Guro always sent messages like that and it was perfect for your plan. She didn‘t respond to your previous message so you didn‘t respond to hers.

Exactly at 6 pm, your door bell rang. You made yourself pretty, dressed up. You had the perfect date outfit but just not for her. Opening the door, you saw the norse standing there with a smile "Hey, pretty lady" she grinned as she shamlessly checked you out. You tried to hide it but your cheeks were burning red. Anyways, "You have 30 seconds to apologize" you stated, looking at your watch.

"What for?"

"I‘m not stupid, darling", you smiled, secretly enjoying the way 'darling' rolled over the tip of your tongue. "I know you‘re playing hard to get" her whole face fell. "I- i… you-.. um" she was a stuttering mess "ding ding ding, 30 seconds are over" you stepped beside her and started walking towards the road where a woman was waiting at her car. The woman smiled brightly the same as you did. Guro could only watch. The winger had to watch you hug someone else all dressed up while she was standing at your door like a lost puppy.

As soon as you were out of sight (driving away with the woman) Guro texted her friends.

Guro

you shitheads.

Sam

??

Erin

?!

When Guro didn‘t reply Sam started a group call "you okay?" Erin started "aren‘t you supposed to be on a date?" Sam chipped in. "Yes but thanks to you guys she just drove away with another woman" they heard how the norse inhaled sharply "play hard to get. Don‘t reply to her" she mimicked their voices. "Wanna start from the beginning?" and that‘s what she did. She told them everything from the moment the door was opened "Damn" - "Wow"

"We need to fix this"

The next day, Guro was standing in front of your house with her hands full of flowers. She stood in front of the door for about 10 minutes before she finally rang the bell. She felt many things; excitement, tension, nervousness. "Hello?" You weren't expecting anyone when you opened the door, thinking it was the mail man. "H-hi, my pretty lady" the winger said shyly. "Can we talk?" you stepped aside, giving her the hint that she can step into your home. As she went in, she looked around. She‘s never been in your home before and was amazed. It was so much like you. "These are for you" smiling, she gave you the flowers. You nodded as a thank you. "I‘m sorry.. for being an ass" she began as you searched for a vase. "I‘ve never done something like- like us. Some friends told me to play hard to get. Not reply to your texts and that stuff." you hummed as responds. "I like you," she looked down, not meeting your eyes "and if you let me, i‘ll reply to every text from you as soon as i can. I’ll show you that i want you"

When you didn‘t answer, she had her answer. Her heart hurt as she realized she messed up being with you. "You like that woman, don‘t you?"

"I do"

Peng, ouch that hurt.

You took a step towards her, cupping her cheeks "but as a sister because she is" within a second the wingers head snapped up "that was your sister?"

"Yes" you grinned, playing with her baby hair which made her melt. "Thank God"

"I like you, too"

While her hands went around your waist she looked deeply in your eyes. You always got lost in the beauty of her orbs.

And just like that the world around stopped. It was only the two of you. Looking down at her lips you asked for consent. You wanted to kiss her since the first date but it was never the right time. Well, maybe it was - you couldn’t tell because you also were inexperienced. As an answer she pressed her lips against yours. The kiss wasn‘t rushed, it was sweet and lovely, almost innocent.

Later that evening, she sent a quick text in the group chat.

Guro

Got the girl.

—————————

[ddejavvu]

reader being shy about her period even though she’s been with hotch for while and doesn’t want to talk about it with him, but he’s straightforward about it, knows reader is shy but they’re both adults! so he draws her a bath (and maybe joins her?) and takes care of her whether she likes it or not lol

basically something fluffy 🥺

Drawing your bath is something you do every single night, but tonight it feels different, weird. It's probably the looming threat of Aaron shuffling around in the bedroom, and you're not even halfway through working up viable excuses when he asks the dreaded question.

"Can I join you?"

He's already undoing his pants before giving you the chance to answer. You never say no, the question is more of a formality at this point. But this time you shake your head, turning around to face him head-on.

"Uh, actually, Aaron, I think I want to take this one alone."

He freezes with his hand down his pants. Apparently untucking his shirt leaves him in a position that makes him look like a depraved teenager.

"Okay," He nods, redoing his zipper, clearly taken-aback, "Is there any reason why?"

"My head hurts. I just- I kind of want to be alone."

His face drops sympathetically, and he nods along, already reaching into the cabinet for the advil, "I'm sorry, honey. Here, take some, and when you're out I'll run interference with Jack so that you can go and lay down."

The way he handles it makes you feel bad for lying to him, but you bite the bullet and take the medicine anyways. It won't do anything, and the worst it will do is give you a headache. Then at least you won't be a liar.

"Thanks, Aaron," You murmur, bumping your face into his chest in a low-effort hug that holds more sincerity than it seems to, "I love you."

"I love you, too." He hums, kissing the crown of your head. He makes for the bedroom again, about to leave you to bathe in peace, but he doubles back, "Oh, and just so you know, I saw you were running low on pads, so I picked some up on my way home from work, but they're in that cabinet."

He points beneath the sink and your stomach drops, "I know you usually keep them in your purse, but Jack wanted gum this morning and I saw you didn't have many left, so I just stocked them here. You can move them, it doesn't matter to me, I just wanted you to know where they were."

He barely glances up at you after he's done, but the momentary gaze is enough to see that you're frozen. He stills in the doorway, "Honey? Are you okay?"

"You bought me pads?" The question feels embarrassing, heating your cheeks and burning your belly.

"I made sure they were the same kind," His brows furrow, "Is that.. okay?"

"It's-" You stammer, lip quivering slightly, "It's fine, it's- great! It's too good, Aaron," Tears well in your eyes, "You're too good to me."

"Honey," He croons, rushing to catch you in a hug, "That's- buying pads is not 'too good for you'. You need them, it's just the same as when I make you dinner or drive you to work."

"Those are all great," You gush, staining his dark green polo with your tears, "You're the perfect man."

You don't need to feel his cheeks to know they're on fire, and he chuckles sheepishly, rubbing up and down your back, "I think that's debatable, you can ask a few higher-ups at the office."

"Well you've never bought Erin Strauss pads before, have you?" You sniffle, two damp blotches on his shirt left behind even after you pick your head up out of his chest.

"No," He grins, shaking his head, "No, but one year I bought her a #1 boss mug."

"#1 bitch," You mumble, turning away so he can't see your smirk as he laughs, "Oh, and Aaron?"

"Mhm?"

"You can get in, if you want." You offer, still residually hesitant, "I just- I don't really have a headache. I didn't want you to know about.."

"Your period." He finishes for you, voice strong and sure of himself, "Alright. Lemme just set Jack up with a movie, then I'll be back."

You take the time he's gone to peek under the bathroom sink, and sure enough, two large packages of your go-to menstrual pads sit beneath a pipe. They're lined up neatly beside his shaving kit, and you marvel at the domesticity they radiate together. You pluck one from the package, fresh and light pink. The wrapper crinkles as you set it on the counter beside your fresh underwear, and a wave of comfort washes over you. This is your house, and you're allowed to live in it.

Comfort steps aside for amusement, though, when you picture Aaron striding into a corner store in his suit and tie, picking up two packages of pink pads, and handing them over to the teenage cashier.

"What's so funny?' He peels off his shirt with ease now that it's no longer tucked into his pants, discarding it on the floor.

"Nothing," You insist, a smile still lingering on your lips, "I bet the 15-year old checker was fun to talk to."

[barbwritesstuff]

In your opinion who do you see as the easiest & hardest ROs to romance in thicker than? Found the game a day ago and am officially obsessed.

I'm really glad you're enjoying the game.

I don't know which RO would be the easiest. Some are slow burns, some are fast but have bumps later along the road. Some are a little harder to find and have a few more rules but are actually easy to seduce once you clear those hurdles.

Here's a very quick, dirty breakdown (minor spoilers):

Tracy - She's easy to find (she finds you) and fairly easy to romance. She can be a little mean (but isn't half as bad as former mean girl Carrie) and secretive but if you're patient and kind with her, she'll fall for you.

Marcel - He's easy to find and also pretty easy to begin a romance with. All you have to do is approach him at court or go into his domain in your free time. He likes you already... all he needs is a little push.

Iliya - He's a little harder to find. You have to hunt down some fledglings. He'll approach you. Sex is easy. He's keen for anything. But his relationship gets a little rockier later on in the game.

Freya - She's a wee bit tricky to find. There's five or six different ways to find her, but if you don't explore it's still easy to miss her. Her romance has kind and cosy vibes, but (depending on your route) you may find out some dark stuff about her past which might make things a little harder.

Chris - Chris is exclusive to the divorcee. VERY slow burn. Chris' romance is about forgiving each other moving forward... then falling in love a second time.

Minjo - Minjo is exclusive to parents. You need a kid and you need to attend events for the kid. Then you can meet her. She's a little hesitant around very young MCs, but her romance is fairly easy to kick off. There's a wee bit of drama later on in the game.

Erin - She's late game only and she needs someone who is dedicated to her cause: freedom for vampires. If you stand with her, she's very likely to want to be with you.

Nathan - He's not about vampires that kill or facilitate killing in any way. If you're a good vampire (or a good liar) you can be with him. It's a little bit of a slow burn but not as slow as some of the others.

Ravima - Ravi is the vampiest vamp on the list. They're old, powerful, and amused by your youth and hunger. If you spend time in their domain you'll catch their attention. They like pleasure, and if you're willing to give and share that... they'll like you. Emotional intimacy comes later.

I hope all that makes sense.

[bonefall]

For everyone hearing about StormClan and doesn't mind Ivypool's Heart spoilers, here's the details I've heard so far;

(Remember to take this with a grain of salt, as always, because this is third hand information I've collected from various spoiler threads)

This is not a major plot thread in Ivypool's Heart. It's actually quite secondary.

StormClan was created at some point after DOTC, when Galestar of WindClan and Stripestar of ThunderClan fell in love.

They combined their Clans into one and left the territory.

At some point, Galestar, Whitebreeze, Rosebush (or Shadebush) and some other guy betrayed Stripestar.

Some cats came back to reform ThunderClan and WindClan.

But not all of them came back; these remnants stayed as StormClan.

Ngl StormClan's traditions are UNIRONICALLY very cool. Instead of contacting a centric StarClan, each one has a "Spirit Guide" (a lot like my Patrons and Demons, but more personal!)

Spirit Guides give their chosen disciple a full name, and can be channeled directly when needed. VERY cool.

Sisters are a breakaway group from StormClan. Less cool, imo, I wanted them to be closer to the Tribe.

StormClan cats also tend to be aggressive, and have actually been several of the unnamed rogues across the series.

Ivypool is going to have several flashes to the StormClan founding drama, or spiritual visions, or something. Basically she's going to give us a window into the history of StormClan.

We get confirmation that fading is connected to forgetting, BUT a faded spirit can be brought back if they're remembered.

There's a big soul river thing that connects all the afterlives.

So, overall, imo this seems fun. I'm actually glad that the Erins are being a bit more creative with the afterlife systems, and this is a nice way to riff on the structure of Clans. While I am still (rightly, imo) wary of the team's ability to juggle all of these new groups, I think StormClan is an interesting addition to canon.