#it gave me logan ptsd

[supermarvelgirl15]

Y'all really let me watch Faraway Downs (Australia) without telling me how it ended huh

[parcai]

I'll always find you 🥹

im hiring a body guard

[uglypastels]

Your Logan fics have been great. I enjoy your style and how you write him. It’s so so good.

I had an idea while reading the brainwashed reader one:

Logan is on a mission to a bunker or lab or something for the X-men. Charles requested told him he had to go and help Scott. They go to this bunker and it ends up being a rescue for some mutants that were being experimented on and one of them once back at the mansion is having issues with controlling their power, and Charles asks Logan to help them. I picture the power being very volatile so Logan is there to help because he can take a hit and heal from it. Cause the reader is too scared to use the power on anyone and Charles told them he had the perfect teacher.

thank you so much!!

shoutout to @deceptive-daydreams for helping me come up with the details of this thing. had a lot of fun, as always, writing this request, so please keep em coming yall.

warnings: implied PTSD. platonic teacher/student dynamic. fire. explosions. swearing. anxiety. lots of banter and fluff.

Masterlist ~ X-Men Requests are Open

It had been two weeks since you had moved into the Mansion. Moved in. That’s all that you could bring yourself to call it, doing your best to not think about anything up to the moment that you had been ushered inside the large building and given a room to stay in for as long as you pleased. It had taken at least three days for you to actually get out of there, to let yourself roam the halls freely, reminding yourself that it was safe. 

For you, at least. No one would harm you here.

But not the same could be said about the rest.  

You had never been fully capable of controlling your powers, feeling more like they controlled you instead. When you were held captive, it was them who held power over both. But now that you were free, it was time for things to change. That much had been clear from the second you set foot in the mansion.

Professor Xavier had given you permission to make use of the Danger Room to train as long as you were under the supervision of one of the faculty members—something that should have given you comfort but instead only formed more anxieties.

‘I don’t want to hurt anyone,’ you confessed.

‘You can’t do this on your own,’ the Professor smiled softly. ‘As with any skill, a fine mentor is the first step to succeeding.’

You weren’t sure about that, but also knew that alone, you wouldn’t be able to get anywhere anyway. 

‘Don’t worry,’ the Professor read your mind. ‘I have just the teacher for you.’

⮿

You had recognised Logan as the man who had helped you escape. Who held your hand and hadn’t let go until you stopped shaking. Who gave you soft reassuring smiles whenever you saw eachother across the corridors, reminding you that were alright here.

You knew he was a skilled fighter, but, truthfully, you had not expected him to be the one Professor Xavier assigned as your supervisor in this training endeavour.

‘Show me what you got, kid.’ He said as he took off his leather jacket, and you immediately wish he hadn’t.

‘It’s probably better to keep it on.’ You stated, wincing at his exposed skin. He looked up at you, taking a moment to comprehend what you meant until the nickel fell with recognition.

‘Right.’ He put the jacket back on and leaned against the wall as you watched him expectantly for further instructions. ‘So, what do you do?’

‘You know what I do.’ You couldn’t help but laugh at the question.

‘Explain it to me again.’ He shrugged.

‘Well… I set things on fire.’ The words came out apprehensively.

‘No. I said, explain it to me. Dumb it down like I was a five year old.’ This felt ironically hard to do as you felt like he knew more about your power at this moment than you ever had.

‘I don’t understand—’

‘To be able to control your abilities, you got to understand it.’ Logan clarified. ‘Know what it is that you’re actually doing and you’ll know what to do to keep it contained.’

Yeah, if put like that, it made sense. It also sounded far easier than it was. Understand it, and you’ll be able to control it. Sure. You thought for a moment, back to school and the damn chemistry classes you hated, but now suddenly started to feel rather useful. ‘I uhh… manipulate atoms, rearranging them with the air and heat around them to cause objects to catch a flame.’

‘That’s more like it.’ He praised, and even though it barely meant anything, you felt yourself smile at the kind words. ‘How much have you got it under control?’ But then the question and his inquisitive glare down at you made you feel very aware of your body and your mind.

‘With uhm— with enough concentration I mostly I target the right object, but once the fire is up, I can’t contain it.’ Which was the most important part. If uncontained, the fire would just spread, destroying everything in its way. That much you already knew. You still woke up screaming from the memories of the radiant flames and screaming all around you.

‘And, nothing personal, but I gotta ask, controlling the fire also falls under your division?’ He had crossed his arms.

‘Uhm…’ you didn’t know how to respond to that. 

‘Only asking because we had this kid Jonny who could control fire, but he needed a spark to start it. Maybe you two are two sides of the same coin?’

‘No, I have managed it before. But never long. It would go up and down and up again, the way I wanted it to, but it was exhausting and then I couldn’t handle it and it would all go  to shit.’ You started rambling, and just like the fires, you couldn’t get yourself to stop.

‘Alright, alright.’ Logan spoke calmly. ‘First thing we gotta do is work on you.’

You blinked slowly.

‘It’s all the same with you elemental kind. It’s all in your head. If you can’t get your emotions under control, then the fire will never go out.’

‘That… makes sense.’ You took a deep breath and thought of all things sweet and soft and calm.

‘Alright, I haven’t got all day.’ He clapped his hands, and you tried to not let the loud sound get to you. 

Let the games begin. 

⮿

A few weeks went by, and you wish you could have said you were making progress. 

No, you had to be kinder to yourself. There was progress. It just wasn’t at the pace you had hoped to reach at this point. Logan had helped you with your targeting, and you could proudly say that you had reached an estimated 98% accuracy score. The larger objects you had no problem with, but the smaller and the further away things were, the more you seemed to struggle. Which was perfectly fine, Logan reminded you.

‘You expect to be able to hit a bullseye in the dark from a hundred yards away?’ 

‘I’m sure some people could,’ you mumbled, frustrated as you watched the wrong matchbox in the near line of 4 burn to a pile of ashes.

‘Beating yourself up about it is not gonna help you, kid.’ Logan said, already replacing the box with a new one. ‘Again.’

Knowing that complaining about his training methods would not help either, you simply squinted and focused on the third matchbox, doing your best to ignore the other ones lying around. They simply did not exist. All there was, was this one stupid matchbox— whoosh, and suddenly, the box was no more, just a pilar of blue flames. In your excitement at having finally hit your target, you had completely forgotten to keep the fire down. 

‘Shit, shit, sorry.’ You did your best to suppress it, but it seemed like the fire was in a funny mood today and decided to do the exact opposite of your demands as it grew by the second until Logan had no choice but to drench it with a bucket of water. 

⮿

‘Have you gone mad?’ You stared blankly up at Logan, who–much too confidently, in your opinion– positioned himself a few paces ahead of you. A cigar in hand. 

‘It’s clear that you need some incentive.’

‘I don’t think your death wish can be called that.’ You protested. ‘I’m not doing it.’ ‘Yeah you are.’ He simply said. ‘I’m the teacher. I’m telling you to light the damn thing, so get on with it,’ he growled as he put the cigar between his teeth.

‘Actually insane.’ You said to yourself. ‘There is no way this is going to end well.’

‘Focus sweetheart.’ He did his best to look calm and composed, but you saw how his shoulders tensed as you prepared to do the task. There was so much more you wanted to say to him, but you just had to block it out. All of him had to cease to exist. All you saw was the tip of the cigar. The tiniest layer of tobacco, the–

You shrieked as Logan’s face disappeared behind a cloud of black smoke as the cylinder in his mouth exploded. 

‘Oh my god, Logan!’ You ran to him, relieved as you heard him cough. With the smoke gone, you were happy to realise that it had only been the cigar that had exploded, leaving behind the tiniest but right where Logan had held it in his mouth. The rest of it combusted all around him. ‘Are you alright?’ 

His entire face was black with soot. You watched him wipe it off his eyes, blinking sporadically, clearly dazed from the explosion. You edged to repeat your question of concern, but before you had the chance to, Logan held a thumb up, spit the bud of the cigar out, and coughed out another thick cloud of smoke. 

‘All’s good, bub.’ And you would have believed him if not for the fact he sounded like a cat that had just been suffocated, his burnt throat squeaking out the vibrations of his voice. ‘Let’s try—’ he was about to suggest another exorcise before he erupted in another coughing fit. 

Easy to say you had called it a day after that.

⮿

‘Alright, easy now.’ Logan directed you. 

‘I know what I’m doing, Lo.’ You retorted. All day long, he had been just non-stop talking, making it very hard for you to focus on the job at hand.

‘Do you?’ He quipped, making you glare back at him just long enough for the fire to double in size. You cursed as you held it back down—at least, that’s something you were able to do now. 

‘You got to focus.’ He came over to you as you put the fire out completely.

‘Well, stop distracting me.’ 

‘That’s easy enough here, but what do you think out there’s gonna be like?’ He cocked his head at the walls, indicating the outside world, where indeed, there were distractions aplenty. ‘No one’s gonna give you time to do your breathing exercises in the real world, kid.’

‘Then why give them to me in the first place?’

‘I’m not the one you want to fight,’ was all he said in response. It had been months, and by now, he knew all there was to know about you in the learning environment. He knew how to push your buttons, fire you up and hose you back down. He could tell what you were thinking and it was infuriating that you could not figure out the same about him.

But, suppose that’s what made him the teacher and you the student.

‘Sorry,’ you sighed, letting yourself fall onto the ground, pulling your knees up to your chin. ‘It’s just so frustrating. We’ve been here for months and—’

‘And we’ll stay here for months more if that’s what you need to improve yourself.’ He squatted beside you. ‘You got this. No need to give up now. Or else my time here’s really been a waste, and I don’t take to that too kindly.’ He gave you that smile that once had only been reserved for quick passes in the hallway but now had become the favourite part of your nearly daily training sessions.

‘Sorry,’ you laughed. 

‘Don’t be.’ He got up, extending his hand as leverage as you got back onto your feet as well. ‘Think you got one more in you for today?’

the end.

thank you for reading 💗

if you enjoyed the fic, please consider reblogging and leaving a comment. or send a message via my inbox. requests are also more than welcome. 💗

[a-leg-without-fear]

No Fucking Way (pt.2)

and here's part two!!! thank you all SO MUCH for the support you've shown my writing. giving @sukinix a tag because they asked to be notified when this drops. love y'all!!

Ship: Logan Howlett x Mutant!Fem!Reader 🩸

Rating: 13+

Wordcount: 6.8k

Warnings: cursing, PTSD struggles, panic attack mention, and even more adorableness

Series: No Fucking Way

“I want you to name him,” you repeated. Logan stepped a pace away from you, hands raising in surrender.

“No. No fucking way,” he said. You flicked water at him as you finished rinsing off the soapy kitten below you. Logan scoffed at your reaction, moving around you to sit on the lip of the tub, “I ain’t naming a cat that’s not mine.”

“Who’s to say the cat isn’t yours?” you teased. You reached behind you and grabbed a fluffy, green towel from a hook screwed into the wall. Drying your hands, you turned off the faucet and inspected your work on the absolutely drenched kitten huddled in the sink. Blue eyes still squinted, large ears pointing straight up, gray and white fur plastered in one smooth ball around its little body.

“I say it’s not. I don’t want a cat,” Logan said. You gave him a look that said sure you don’t over your shoulder as you scooped the cat in the towel. The little purr factory was sure to bore holes in the towel with the strength of the buzzing. It nuzzled its little head against the towel in an attempt to get water out of its ears.

“Even one as cute as this fluffy guy?” you asked, attempting to reason with the forever-grumpy man sitting on the tub. He ran his fingers through his ruffled hair then placed both hands on his knees.

“How can I tell if he’s fluffy? He’s fucking soaked, doll,” Logan replied. 

You sighed, eyes rolling up to the white ceiling. Sure, you loved Logan. You loved him more than life itself. But Christ could he get on your nerves.

“Your understanding of physics never ceases to amaze me, darling,” you said in a singsong manner. A humorless laugh barked from Logan’s chest. The cat looked over to him, eyes widening slightly at the sudden noise, ears perked forward.

“What’re you lookin’ at, cat?” Logan asked. His question was answered with a small “mrraow?” from the now mostly damp kitten. He scoffed at the small creature, “Now it’s sassing me.”

“He’ll sass you less if you give him a name,” you said. A rough grumble echoed in the tub as Logan stood. Boots clacked across the tiled floor as he moved to stand next to you again.

“Alright, you know what? You said he’s fluffy, so that’s his name. Floof,” Logan said. You arched an eyebrow at him, the kitten looking up at him with narrowed eyes.

“...Floof? Really?” you asked. Logan huffed and threw his hands up in frustration.

“You don’t like the name, change it!”

“No, no. I like it. Just didn’t expect that to come from you,” you said, giggles building in your chest. 

Logan glared at you, grumbled “whatever,” then stormed out of the bathroom. The kitten, or Floof, watched him leave. His gray and white fur was getting more fluffy the more you dried him with the towel. You assessed the cat in your hands.

“Floof. Yeah, I like it. How about you?” you asked. Blue eyes blinked up at you. 

“Maaoww.”

“Good.”

~~~~1 week later~~~~

It was no surprise that Floof became the favorite among students. Whenever the kitten walked into a room, the children would immediately flock to the furball and give it so much love, the professors started complaining about lack of focus within the student body.

Cat trees and scratching posts were a permanent fixture in nearly every room, felt obstacle courses adorned some of the common areas’ walls, there were even pots of cat grass growing in Charles’s study. Floof was free to wander into any part of the mansion, so the students had adapted to looking at the floor whenever they walked to and from class, not wanting to step on the six-week-old kitten.

The only person throughout the entire mansion who hadn’t taken a shine to the newest member was Logan. Of course it was. Mr.Grouchy hated fun, as you knew.

It didn’t help matters that whenever he would style his hair, you would compare his hair tufts to Floof’s ears. You even went so far as to take pictures of both Logan and Floof, without Logan knowing, and edited them to be side by side so you could show Logan the likeness. That had earned you an irritated “they’re not cat ears!” and the cold shoulder for a few hours.

“You look like his dad, Lo,” you said through a fit of giggles. Logan sat in one of the leather armchairs of this particular sitting room. Lit cigar clutched in his left hand, right hand raised to push away Floof should the cat get too close, ankle crossed over his thigh.

“I’m not his fucking dad. I don’t have a cat,” Logan groused, scooping up Floof by the stomach from the armrest and placing the kitten back on the floor. The movement was met with an indignant “mooaaoow!”

“Uh huh. Yes dear,” you replied. You sat across from Logan, and the rather persistent cat, on the green-clothed couch. Shelves with a smattering of books lined the walls not overtaken by huge, bay windows. Streams of midday sun lit up the room. The only other person in this common area was Via, a pink sweater-wearing mutant with telekinesis and telepathy. She sat on one of the benches affixed to the bay windows. 

“Don’t ‘yes dear’ me,” Logan said. He lifted the cigar to his mouth and took a puff. Smoke curled around his head like a gray halo dispersed in the sun’s rays.

The bell around Floof’s neck jingled as the cat jumped onto the armrest again. Tiny, gray paws patted on Logan’s elbow. Logan huffed, grabbing the cat around the middle and setting him back on the floor. You watched the two over the mug you held in your hands.

“Cats are more attracted to people who don’t like them,” you mused, taking a sip of your coffee. Logan grunted in response. He pulled on the blue flannel he wore over his tank top. Floof paced back and forth by Logan’s foot.

“Oh yeah? And why’s that?” Logan asked. He gently tapped Floof with the toe of his boot to push the cat further away. Another “maow!” met the action.

“Letting them make the first move instead of forcing affection makes them feel independent,” you explained. The gray fluffball sat in front of Logan, tail wrapped around its feet, and stared up at him. Logan glanced between you and Floof, a frown set deep in his face.

“But he likes the kids, and they’re grabbing at him all the time,” he argued. You snorted a laugh at Logan trying to reason with you. You set your mug down on its coaster and leaned forward, elbows resting on your knees.

“He’s a strange one. Maybe that’s why he likes you so much. You’re exactly alike,” you said, a mischievous smile growing across your lips. Logan took another drag from his cigar.

“We’re not exactly alike,” he said, blowing out a stream of smoke. 

You glanced up at the pointed hairstyle that Logan wore everyday. Two, dark, styled points on the sides of his head that faded into sideburns on his cheeks. You looked back down at Floof. His ears twitched as he took in the sounds all over the mansion. Two points on the sides of his head. You met Logan’s eyes again, leaning back and crossing your arms.

“Then explain the cat ears, Lo.”

“Stop it with the fucking cat ears!”

~~~~1 month later~~~

For some reason, the beginnings of a presidential election were taking place. Posters were hung on the walls all over the mansion, buttons had been made, flyers handed out, speeches given. Debates were even being held between students on the candidates. 

Well, candidate. Singular. There was only one creature running for office.

Floof.

Started by Crys, a blonde with super strength, and Eclipse, a green jacket-wearing girl who could block other mutant’s powers, the presidential campaign for Mr.Floofen von Floofypants was all the students could talk about. It didn’t help matters that Jean and Storm were working on ballots to be used for the upcoming election.

“All this for a cat is a little ridiculous, don’t you think?” Logan called down from his place on the steel ladder. He reached down and grabbed another thumbtack from your outstretched hand, “I mean, he’s not even the legal age to run.”

You and Logan were working on hanging streamers along the foyer ceiling. It was a day before the “election,” and most of the common areas had been decorated like they were taken from an American Dream magazine. Balloons, big banners saying “FLOOF,” party hats, and posters all bearing the red, white, and blue. It had definitely taken some convincing of Charles. Getting the Brit to yankee-fy his home was like getting Logan to let Floof in his lap.

“You’re Canadian. How do you know U.S. election law?” you asked. That earned a huff from Logan as he stuck the thumbtack through the blue streamer in his hands.

“I’ve been living in America longer than I did in Canada, doll. I’m practically a citizen,” he replied. He pushed on the thumbtack to ensure it was secure, then reached down for another. Floof, the electoral candidate himself, rubbed on your calf.

“Did you take the test?” you asked jokingly. Logan took the thumbtack from you, cocking an eyebrow at your question.

“What kinda test?” he responded. You breathed a laugh. Floof started pawing at your pant leg. You took the hint, scooping the kitten around the middle and holding him to your chest.

“The test to become a citizen,” you said. Logan rolled his eyes as he stuck the thumbtack through the streamer.

“Fuck no. Did the cat take the test?”

“He was born on US soil. He doesn’t need to,” you answered. The cat in question rubbed its chin on your fingers scratching at its neck. Vigorous purrs vibrated against your chest.

“I think he should take it if he wants to be president,” Logan said. You shifted your fingers to scratch at Floof’s pointed ears.

“And what exactly would be on a cat’s U.S. citizenship test?” you asked, laughing at the absurdity of this conversation. Logan grabbed another thumbtack.

“English comprehension, for one,” he said easily. You snorted, the noise disturbing the buzzing kitten in your arms. Floof looked up at you through squinted, blue eyes.

“Maow?”

“I think he comprehends English just fine,” you said, resuming your calming strokes on the kitten’s fluffy body. It seemed your disturbance was forgiven, the purrs resuming their intensity. Logan sighed.

“Is that so? Why don’t you ask him about his policies?” he suggested. The rest of the streamer was out of arm’s reach from his current position. He started climbing down the ladder, boots clanging on the metal rungs.

“That’ll have to wait for the debate tonight,” you said. Logan grabbed the ladder and moved a few feet towards the other end of the foyer. You shadowed behind him, both Floof and the box of thumbtacks in your arms.

“Who the fuck is debating against the cat?” Logan asked as he set the ladder down. You set Floof back on the floor to continue handing Logan thumbtacks from their plastic box. An annoyed trill came from the gray fuzzball.

“You are, Lo, if you keep it up,” you said. Logan glared at you, then climbed back up the ladder. He grabbed the limp, blue streamer and held it against the ceiling, reaching down for a thumbtack. You placed the brass pin in his palm, “Just imagine, two cats debating each other on their ideas of the flow of commerce. I’m sure it would be absolutely riveting.”

“I’m not a- you know what? I’m not gonna respond to that anymore. You clearly enjoy annoying me too much,” Logan grumbled. A wide, evil grin overtook your relaxed smile. 

“Took you long enough,” Storm said from behind you. The white-haired, brown-eyed woman stepped up next to you, her arms folded across her blue blouse. You met her amused smirk, then you both looked back up to Logan above you, “We’ve been waiting for you to give in since the beginning.”

“Beating a man into submission. How forward-thinking of you,” Logan said snarkily. Floof trotted over to the ladder and sat beneath where Logan stood. The kitten’s tail flicked back and forth along the wooden floor.

“Not so much ‘beating’ as getting you to see sense,” Storm replied. You snickered, digging in the box for another thumbtack, as Logan used his freehand to show Storm his middle finger.

~~~2 months later~~~

“Why are you feeding him that shit? It’ll make his fur all shaggy,” Logan called from his place at the breakfast table. Snow frosted on the window behind him, flakes steadily falling and glowing orange in the setting sun. 

A collection of snowmen sat on the fish pond’s bank. The little sculptures were a variety of shapes and sizes. Some being your stereotypical circular snowmen, others taking the shape of dragons or horses. The results of the art class you held outside yesterday.

“What do you mean?” Scott asked, red glasses looking between Logan and Floof’s food bowl. He wore a yellow, wool sweater and brown slacks that complimented his cropped dark hair. He held a bag of store-brand kibble above the empty bowl.

“That knockoff bullshit ain’t good for longhaired cats, genius,” Logan said. He was leaning on his elbow propped on the oak breakfast table. That morning’s paper sat ignored next to his third coffee of the day. 

You sat across from him with Floof in your lap. One hand used to stroke along the steadily growing kitten, the other grading essays on Leonardo DaVinci your students had written. Your own mug was filled with your favorite tea.

“Why do you know so much about cat food?” Scott retorted. He set the crinkling bag of kibble back on the blue-tiled counter and faced Logan, hands finding their usual place on his hips.

“Look, all I know is that when you feed him that shit, he needs way more brushing than usual,” Logan explained, gesturing to the purring, gray fuzzball in your lap. Floof blinked slowly at Logan from across the table. You rested your chin in the hand you were petting Floof with, using your fingers to hide your growing smile.

“Well, it’s not like you’re the one doing the brushing,” Scott said indicatively. 

A few moments of silence filled the kitchen. The cuckoo clock hung above the sink ticked the seconds away. You looked at Logan with a knowing grin. Scott’s incredulous frown morphed into an ecstatic smile.

“Holy shit, you do brush him!” he exclaimed.

“Vampire’s usually busy with class!” Logan replied quickly, voice coming out frantic and desperate. You couldn’t hide the laughs that leaked through your fingers. Scott doubled over as he guffawed at Logan’s response.

“You-You brush the cat!” Scott wheezed, voice echoing from below the counter. Logan grumbled under his breath at both you and Scott, the two of you laughing like madmen. He grabbed the newspaper and opened it.

“Whatever,” he groused, pretending to ignore the cackles bouncing around him. 

Floof took offense to your shaking chest and slipped off your lap. His bell jingled as he crossed under the table to Logan, finding the grumpy man to be a much better spot to curl up. Your and Scott’s snickers were given new life when Floof hopped up and into Logan’s lap. Peals of roaring laughter, especially from Scott, surrounded Logan.

“Fuck you. Both of you,” he said. A tiny, gray paw patted at the air by Logan’s neck. Logan sighed, lowering a hand to scritch under Floof’s chin, “I don’t get any respect around here. Do I, bub?”

~~~4 months later~~~

It was a complete shock to everyone, the day you found out that Floof was a mutant. The cat had been growing at a healthy rate. Food was readily supplied, a never ending stream of affection followed the cat like a shadow, and a large number of toys were spread throughout the mansion.

So when Floof had walked behind your chair leg and appeared next to Logan in the doorway, all hell broke loose.

Hank and Jean had run tests on Floof’s blood to see if they could find the presence of an active X-gene. Drawing his blood, under the very close watch of Logan, and running it through their typical series of tests that all turned up positive. 

It was difficult for them to get any scans, x-ray or otherwise, of the cat as at the first clang or shudder of a machine, he’d appear upstairs or in the next room over.

“Damn thing just won’t stay still!” Hank exclaimed, blue fur frazzled and yellow eyes wide. His white lab coat was in a state of disarray you had never seen before. Jean sat on her office chair behind the lab’s computer. Her red hair was tied up in a loose bun, brown eyes scanning across the computer screen, lab coat perfect as always.

“You’re scaring him, asshole,” Logan said. He was leaning on a silver wall in the lab. Arms folded across his chest, leg crossed over the other, typical frown across his lips. This time, Floof had disappeared from being in the x-ray machine and appeared behind Logan’s legs. Logan stooped down to pick up the frightened cat.

“Then what do you suggest, o’ cat whisperer?” Hank asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. He rolled up his coat sleeves, white fabric bunching around his blue arms, as he reset the x-ray machine for the third time.

“I could sit in the machine with him,” you suggested. Both Hank and Logan’s gaze fell to you. You sat across the desk from Jean. You had been watching the whole exchange with a great deal of amusement. Hank sighed, lifting his glasses to rub at the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe, it’ll work,” he said. He replaced his glasses and gestured to Logan, “Lord knows this one’ll throw off the readings too much.”

Logan glared at Hank, hands buried in Floof’s long, gray fur. You stood from your chair and circled around the x-ray machine to Logan.

When you were met with hesitation from your partner, you paused. Logan’s dark brows were knit together, frown deepening across his lips, arms holding Floof tighter to his chest. You placed your hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, he’ll be ok. It’s just some scans. And I’ll be right there with him,” you soothed. Logan puffed a gust of air from his scowl, the action rustling the fur on Floof’s head. The cat looked up at Logan with wide, blue eyes.

“I’ll make sure they’re quick,” Jean called from where she sat. You used the hand on Logan’s shoulder to massage soothing circles into the muscle.

Logan sighed, posture drooping, as he said, “Fine. But if he teleports one more time, that’s it. No more for today.”

“Of course, Lo,” you said. You gave him a reassuring smile. You knew all these tests were getting to him. Watching Floof get stressed over the large machinery and sharp needles reminded Logan too much of his past. Well, the parts he could remember. 

You tucked your hands between Floof and Logan, fingers running across long fur and flannel alike, and you pulled Floof against your chest. The usual intense purring that would buzz from Floof’s abdomen was nonexistent. You smiled again at Logan, who returned a smirk that didn’t meet his eyes, then turned to Hank.

“I’ll need you to lay down on the table. The cat, or… Floof, will sit in your lap. You’ll have to be very still, or you’ll throw off the scans,” Hank instructed. You nodded in response, approaching the x-ray machine. As you sat on the metal table you could feel Floof’s heartbeat speed up.

“Shhh, baby. It’s alright,” you cooed, lips pressed into the short hairs on top of Floof’s head. Floof rubbed his head against your chin. A small “mrraow” accompanied a few licks on your neck. 

You felt every single eye in the room on you, especially Logan’s, as you laid down on the table. Floof settled into the crook of your legs, feet tucked under his chest and tail wrapped around his paws. The epitome of a fluffy loaf. You ran your fingers across his back a few times.

“Alright. Try not to move,” Hank said, grabbing the handles at the foot of the table. You gave Floof one last scritch under the chin then placed your hands at your sides. Floof kept his eyes on you as both of you were pushed under the x-ray machine.

You ended up inside a long, metal tube. Lights lining the white metal started blinking on, one by one. Blue light filled your vision. You glanced down at Floof, who was still staring up at you. You slowly blinked back at him.

“Everything alright in there?” you heard Logan ask. His low voice ricocheted around inside the metal tube. 

“Yup. So far, so good,” you replied. Floof was sitting perfectly still in your lap. You continued to slow-blink at him.

“About to take the first set of scans. Keep him still,” Hank called from the other end of the machine. You hummed in response. 

A low whirring kicked on along the entirety of the tube. Floof’s pointed ears flattened against his head.

“You’re okay, we’re okay,” you said calmly. Your continued slow-blinking and soothing voice seemed to be working wonders. Other than his ears, which were now back to pointing towards you, he had remained perfectly still. There was a louder ca-chunk that slightly rattled the table near your stomach and made Floof flinch.

“That’s his top half done. How’s it looking, Jean?” Hank said.

“Looks perfect. Keep doing what you’re doing, vampire,” Jean replied. 

Floof remained perfectly still as the whirring picked up again by your knees. Ears perked up at you, blue eyes slowly blinking, claws only slightly digging into your jeans. The second ca-chunk didn’t even phase the cat. He just continued to stare at you. You could even feel the purrs building in his chest.

“Okay, got what I need! Go ahead and pull ‘em out, Hank,” Jean said. The blue lights surrounding you blinked off in sync as you felt the foot of the table rattle again.

The lights of the lab were nearly blinding when you emerged from the x-ray machine. You used one hand to shield your eyes while the other stroked along Floof’s back.

Logan was at your side in an instant. He scooped Floof into his arms and cradled the cat to his chest. Fingers scritching under Floof’s chin, nose buried in the fur on Floof’s back. Seemed the whole ordeal affected Logan more than you thought. You ran a reassuring hand along Logan’s arm.

“Why don’t you two head on upstairs? I’ve got it covered from here,” you said lowly. Logan gave you a once over, nodded, then carried the ball of fur in his arms out of the lab.

You sighed as you sat up, swinging your legs over the side of the table. Your eyes met Jean’s confused expression.

“Alkali,” was all you said. Jean quietly said “oh,” then turned her attention back to the computer. You pushed yourself off the table and moved to look over Jean’s shoulder, “Anything standing out?”

“Well, for one, you have horrible bone density,” Jean replied. You gave her arm a light smack. Jean laughed at your response, then continued, “Nothing in his skeletal structure is off. All of his joints are connected where they should be, cartilage is intact, nothing’s broken.”

“So his mutation isn’t physical?” you asked. Jean shook her head while biting her lower lip. 

“We’d have to do an MRI on his brain to tell for certain. But, as far as I can tell, he’s like me and Kurt,” she explained. You heard Hank scoff behind you.

“More similar to Kurt, I’d say. Both him and the cat are awful to analyze,” he said, laughing without humor. You turned to look at him, arms folding across your chest.

“At least Floof does it because he’s scared. Kurt does it to piss you off,” you said. Hank grumbled under his breath at that, seeming to recount all of the failed exams he’d given the Nightcrawler over the years. You chuckled at his disgruntled reaction.

“We should be good, vampire. Go check on Logan for me,” Jean said, drawing your attention away from Hank. You gave her a pat on the shoulder, then followed Logan’s path out of the lab.

The jarring difference between the basement and the mansion itself would be alarming to anyone who hadn’t spent decades living there. 

In the mansion, warm wood and plush furniture could be found in every room. Golden sunlight filtered in through grand windows, vibrant green plants in colorful pots decorated shelves and tables, beautiful paintings and cheerful pictures were hung on every available wall.

In the basement, however, steel lined everything. Chrome ceilings, chrome floors, chrome doors, even chrome furniture constructed the entire basement. High-tech gadgets, like state of the art computers and medical equipment, were reserved to be specifically used in the basement’s lab. Giant, metal doors hid training rooms and simulation areas the older students would utilize. And, what was often sought after and coveted, lay behind a door with a large, chrome x on it.

Cerebro. A circular room with a single, metal console in its center. An array of switches and buttons were embedded in the console. Wires ran to and from the console’s base and the platform it stood on. Sitting on its pedestal was the helmet Charles would put on when he used Cerebro. Metal rods and wires protruding from a chrome cap that glowed blue when in use.

Just beyond Cerebro’s door is where you saw Charles. His mechanical wheelchair whirred as he directed himself into the open room.

“Hey professor,” you said as you passed. Charles looked over his shoulder at you and smiled.

“Hello, my dear. I was just about to do the monthly search. Care to join?” he asked. He spun his wheelchair in place so he could face you. He wore a clean, blue suit and a pale yellow tie. His shiny, black shoes reflected the artificial white light that gleamed from lights set in the ceiling.

“I’d love to,” you replied. Your shoes clicked along the polished, chrome floor as you walked up to where Charles’s wheelchair sat. The hand resting on the chair’s joystick moved, spinning the chair to face into Cerebro, then matched your pace as you walked through the huge doors.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about Logan,” Charles said, reading your mind like always. He didn’t do it out of malice or ill-intent. It was just second nature for him to hear the runaway thoughts of those around him. His bright, blue eyes peered up at you as you walked across the suspended platform, “Memories of Alkali always tend to make him anxious. Just give him time.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. Small, white lights on the sides of the platform flicked on as you and Charles walked further into the room. The enormous, paneled sphere that constructed Cerebro bounced the light all around you, giving the space a pleasant glow. 

You stopped just behind Charles as he rolled up to the console. You watched as he fiddled with a few switches and buttons, none of it making sense to you, before he looked back at you again.

“You know the drill. No moving,” he said through a kind smile. You gave him two thumbs-up, which made him chuckle, then clasped your hands together in front of you. 

Charles turned back to the console and lifted the helmet. The chrome glinted in the soft, white light, throwing strange reflections onto his aged face. He raised the helmet above his head, wires stretched near their limit, before he set the chrome cap around his head.

In an instant, the room around you melted away into an endless space of darkness. Clouds of black ink flooded your vision, the entire white room overtaken by a midnight sky. White dots started sprouting up amongst the darkness. First one, then ten, then millions and millions lit up the blackness until they formed constellations in the shape of the world’s continents. 

Everytime you got the chance to see Cerebro in action, it took your breath away. Watching as Charles connected with every human’s mind on earth was nothing short of incredible. Brief visions of people all over the world floated past in glowing apparitions. Ghosts showing glimpses into peoples’ lives flying by in rapid succession.

Red overtook the white as Charles focused on specifically mutants. Crimson stars blinked in the dark, taking up significantly less of the night’s sky than the humans’ white spots did. 

The visions flying past were now drenched in a red glow. One showing a girl, no older than three, playing with a barbie doll. Another showing a teenage boy flirting with a classmate.

Two silhouettes stood out amongst the chaos. Both female, both older in their teenagehood, but looking nothing alike.

The first was a taller girl. Hair smoothed back into a ponytail, arms as thick as tree trunks, skin reflecting light like a cluster of diamonds. A whisper of “Lindsay” from Charles gave a name to the face. Her apparition floated back amongst the constellations to land somewhere in New Zealand.

The second was a girl sitting on a rooftop. Her skin was coated in shimmering scales, eyes slitted like a snake’s, bat-like wings protruding from her back. She was curled up next to a gargoyle, surveying the city below her. “Brooke” was the name Charles said, then her image floated away and landed in Utah.

The red dots were snuffed as streaks of darkness flew through the air. Like coffee under a paper towel, the black ink overtaking the room disappeared into the console. Charles tucked his fingers under his helmet and placed it back on its pedestal.

“Right. Two new mutants. One in Utah, the other in New Zealand,” he said. He turned his chair around to face you again. A hopeful, gleeful look was painted across his face like a work of art, “I’ll send Scott and Storm to fetch them. In the meantime, have Jean drum up some high-strength pain reliever. Lindsay seems to have a migraine problem.”

“On it,” you replied, your own grin growing to match his. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and texted the details to Jean, following after Charles as he exited Cerebro.

“Two more students. Ah, I can’t wait! I have a feeling Vienna and Brooke will get along quite well. Not to mention how Crys and Daniel will take to someone like them when Lindsay arrives,” Charles said cheerfully. With the message sent, you stowed your phone in your pocket and focused on the professor. He continued to ramble on about the interactions he predicted to happen between the new and current students. You listened intently, fondness filling your chest like a warm breath.

The two of you entered the circular elevator, with cream-colored walls and a yellow light set in the ceiling, as Charles spoke. You felt the floor lurch as the elevator started to climb up to the mansion.

“Both Brooke and Lindsay seemed to be rather talented writers. Hopefully they’ll like the creative writing club. Oh, and they should enjoy the book club, too,” he said. The elevator door slid open to reveal the mansion’s first floor. 

Kurt, the blue-skinned and long-tailed teleporter, threw you and the professor a wave as he passed by. Several textbooks about religious studies were clutched in his clawed hands. You gave him a wide grin and a wave of your own.

“Afternoon, Kurt,” Charles chirped, smiling fondly at the German as the two of you passed by. A quiet “afternoon!” followed you and the professor as you walked toward the west wing of the mansion. You trailed after Charles for a few more paces.

“If you don’t need anything else, I’m gonna go check on Logan,” you said. You paused in the middle of the long, windowed hallway you and Charles occupied. He gave you a nod.

“Yes, please do. Give him my best,” Charles said. You gave him a gentle squeeze on the shoulder, his wrinkled hand patting on the back of yours, before you made your way to the staircase in the foyer.

Several students greeted you as you walked through the mansion. Christopher, a dark-haired brainiac, and Josh, a brown-eyed boy with two extra arms, said a brief “hi!” before returning to the scattered chemistry homework in front of them. Mads, the short-haired plant bender, waved at you from where she knelt next to a plant with withering leaves. A subtle, green glow emanated from her palms as life was pumped back into the monstera.

While climbing up the grand staircase you noticed one of Floof’s campaign posters still pinned to the wall. Wide eyes stared out of a red, white, and blue drawing. You smirked, remembering how much the whole thing had annoyed Logan.

Rogue and Bobby gave you a brief greeting as you passed on the landing between opposing stairs. They continued down the carpeted staircase you had just climbed as they discussed seeing a movie together later that week.

When you reached your and Logan’s room, the third door on the left, you noticed it was firmly shut. Thinking it strange, you turned the brass knob and swung open the wooden door.

“Maaaooowww!” Floof yelled from where he sat next to the door. He gave your leg a quick sniff, then darted between your legs and into the hall behind you. 

Perplexed, you looked at Logan. He was sitting on your shared bed. Arms crossed over his chest, boots kicked off next to the bed, eyes closed as calming piano played from his phone’s speakers.

You slowly latched the door shut behind you, toeing off your shoes, and climbed into bed next to him. A rough grunt met the jostling of the mattress. You sat next to Logan, your back leaning on the wooden headboard.

You let silence hang in the air, only disturbed by the light song playing from the nightstand. When Logan got like this, stuck in his own mind, it was best to let him take things at his own pace. If you moved too fast he’d completely shut down. Which, having known him for at least two decades at this point, was something you could easily maneuver around.

After a few minutes you felt a rustle next to you. Logan’s arms uncrossed from his chest, eyes still closed, as the hand closest to you fitted into yours. You tangled your fingers with his. A few more moments passed, then you felt the weight of Logan’s head on your shoulder.

You pressed a soft kiss into his hair. He hummed in response, rubbing his cheek along the sleeve of your sweatshirt. 

“Doing alright?” you whispered. Another minute passed, piano filling the room.

“Yeah,” Logan mumbled. The hand not clutched in yours was thrown across your waist. He pulled you against his body, face buried in the crook of your neck, “Yeah, now I am.”

You let your fingers nestle in the short hairs along his neck. Soft, soothing strokes along his skin that left him practically purring against you. 

“All the stuff with Floof dredge something up?” you asked. A beat, then Logan nodded against your shoulder.

“Medical stuff, ya know? It’s just… A lot,” Logan explained. He squeezed you tighter against his chest. You gave the crown of his head another gentle kiss.

“Take your time, Lo,” you breathed. You tracked the deep inhales that filled Logan’s chest and the smooth glide of his cheek on your shoulder. Good. Didn’t seem like a panic attack was brewing.

The two of you sat on the bed, cuddled against each other, light piano playing around you for another couple minutes. Calm, still settings like this were the best for when Logan was struggling with his past, you’d found. Breathing with him, gentle touches, and reaffirming words helped keep him grounded in the present.

You started chattering quietly about what the scans had shown. That nothing seemed abnormal about Floof, that the teleportation must stem from his brain, and that you apparently had low bone density. That sparked a brief chuckle from Logan’s chest.

After about an hour of the two of you huddled together, a light scratching came from the bedroom door. You sighed, head rolling back and thonking on the wooden headboard.

“Frickin’ cat,” you murmured under your breath. Logan reluctantly untangled his limbs from yours. He leaned back against the headboard, hazel eyes opening and looking at you.

“You wanted him,” he said, an amused grin growing on his lips. You groaned, pushing yourself off the bed and walking over to the door.

When you pulled it open, a gray and white furry bullet shot into the room. A chorus of indignant meows overshadowed the music coming from Logan’s phone. You scooped up the annoyed cat and moved back to the bed. Floof’s distinct, intense purrs rumbled against your chest.

“Hey, bub,” Logan said when you sat next to him. Floof squirmed in your arms until you finally released him, then the little shit jumped into Logan’s lap. Your mouth gaped open.

“Fucking traitor,” you gasped. Your despair was ignored as Floof circled himself a few times, paws kneading into Logan’s jeans, then curled up in Logan’s lap. Logan scritched under Floof’s chin.

“Sorry, doll. Guess he’s picked a side,” Logan said, cocky grin plastered on his stupid face. You huffed while curling your knees against your chest and thumping your chin on top.

“You’re lucky I love you, ya jerk. Or else I’d be fighting for that cat’s honor,” you grumbled. Logan laughed, the deep sound bouncing out of his mouth like a large bell.

“It wouldn’t be a fair fight. You’d win,” he said. Floof nuzzled into Logan’s palm, purring so strong you could feel it in your chest. You let your head fall onto Logan’s shoulder. You felt his cheek rub against your hair.

“Nah,” you said. You looked between Logan and Floof. Matching ears and hair tufts, smiling eyes filled with adoration, purrs and happy hums coming from both of them. Your initial grumpiness was overshadowed by a deep-seated adoration for the two of them, “You would.”

~~~~6 months later~~~

You stood in your and Logan’s shared room. Warm, wooden panels covered the walls decorated in landscape paintings. A black cat tree, about four-feet tall, sat in front of one of the windows by your bed. The pale green curtains were drawn just enough so only a sliver was left open for Floof, who enjoyed sitting on the top platform and watching the flying birds and bugs.

The rustling of clothes, caused by your rummaging, disturbed the peace in the room. You were digging around amongst Logan’s folded shirts in the wardrobe’s drawers. A white t-shirt sat on top of the wardrobe. Bold, black print reading “#1 Cat Dad” sat in the center front of the t-shirt, along with an image of Floof surrounded by a large, red heart. 

You slipped the t-shirt amongst the space you had made in the drawer then slid the wooden compartment closed. Confident in how well you hid the new article of clothing, you took a look around the room.

Pictures of you, Logan, and Floof sat on every available surface. Earlier pictures featured a frowning and distant Logan, who was uncomfortable being in a picture with the young kitten. But, as Floof got older, Logan was seen in more and more pictures with him. The two of them cuddling on the couch, Floof curled up on a sleeping Logan’s chest in bed, Logan holding Floof up like Simba in the Lion King.

A fond smile graced your lips. The man you loved most, an unerring grump, really did have a soft spot. Him and Floof had grown inseparable. When Logan walked into a room, the now full-sized, fluffy, gray cat was sure to follow. Whenever Floof needed to visit a vet, Logan was the one to take him. If Logan were to leave for a mission, Floof would consistently yell the entire time his pal was gone.

Several footsteps passing by your open door drew your attention from the pictures. You looked into the hallway at what had caused the noise.

Logan, hair styled in the classic two tufts, had Floof perched on his shoulder. The adult cat was draped over Logan’s flannel-covered back like a fluffy scarf. The pair reminded you of a mountain lion perched on a tall cliff.

Logan threw you a grin and a quick wave. You smiled, waving back, as your vision shifted to the swarm of children following Logan. Eyes wide with adoration for Floof, toothy grins on each child’s face, giggles exchanged between students.

As the crowd passed by, the long-haired cat meeting your eyes and letting out a soft “mraow,” it was hard to believe that there was a time when Logan had said “no fucking way” to Floof.

once again, so much love to the murdock tuna team!! you all fill me with so much joy on a daily basis. i'm so incredibly thankful to each and every one of you :) also, here's what the Floof 2024 posters look like

[tdlb]

so thoughts on episode 9 of x-men 97?

rogue wearing remy's jacket killed me, but then she just... gave it away? like no, keep it. fight for him! he deserves so much better! (and i say this as someone who loves both of them)

magneto telling charles to shut up was unintentionally hilarious

logan is the mvp this ep. don't care what y'all say, i love me some james logan howlett being the best he is at what he does.

although two seconds later i was hiding behind my hands saying "no" over and over again because us x-men fans knew what magneto was about to do.

i swear this show is made to give us all ptsd.

[bloodyquillink-blog]

Sugar and Lemon, Chapter 5 “Everything is Alive”

A/N🪶: I’m back, school kicked my ass and then I did summer school and that threw me into a pit resulting in me not updating for… ALMOST A YEAR??? Sorry about that, friends. I hope this next chapter makes up for it and helps me want to finish this fic. We still have a bit of a ways to go before that happens ad school starts up again in less than a month so we’ll see what happens. Sugar and Lemon Masterlist here

BIG WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER (I’m not sorry): PTSD flashback/Panic Attack, descriptions of injury, blood, anxiety, uncomfortable eye-contact. If I missed anything for this chapter, please let me know and I’ll rectify it when I can!

Word Count: 3.4K

The same night, Keegan and Logan had been talking over possible “plans” to see you again and hopefully get your number as they sat outside under the dark sky. It was mostly Keegan coming up with one-liners and Logan rejecting all of them. 

“How about ‘you gave me your number in a dream but I wanna make sure it’s right’?” Keegan offered. Logan could only stare at the man. 

“What’s wrong with just asking for it?”

“It needs to be something memorable, something that makes them blush. That’s how you get them going home thinking about you.”

“I think anyone can remember being asked for their phone number.”

“I gave you all my best advice and you’re ignoring it.”

“You shoved your advice in my face and I asked one reasonable question about it.”

Logan’s phone rang, it was David. Logan put it on speaker after answering.

“Yeah?”

“Is Keegan giving you advice that he’s never used in his life?”

“That is exactly what’s happening.”

“That is not what’s happening.”

“I can hear both of you. You guys are like unsocialized dogs trying to do tricks but you don’t know what a treat is and you’re too anxious to take it from someone’s hand.”

“Like your advice is any better, kid.”

“It is.”

“Can anyone vouch for it?” Keegan paused. “Besides Logan.”

“Some of the nurses, the old therapist, Kick, he can send you screenshots if need be.” Logan looked at his comrade, who rolled his eyes. 

“Because you were flirting with him or because you were helping him flirt?”

“Could be either one really.” Logan snorted. “Practice is a helpful learning tool, Russ.”

“Okay, Mr. Suave-”

“I prefer Bond, James Bond.”

Keegan exhaled through his nose. “You are not worthy of the title of James Bond.” A brief silence followed his comment.

“Better than ‘Golden Gun himself’.”

“That was for a halloween party Ajax forced me to go to.”

“And you were so handsome in your getup, weren’t you?”

“Look, kid, it was that or Austin Powers.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for this year’s Halloween.”

Logan could’ve sworn he saw Keegan’s eye twitch. The man stood up and stretched.

“Logan, talk to Kick.”

“Why Kick?”

“Because David needs an ass-beating and Merrick’s too old-school.”

“He can hear you, y’know. I’m not the only one on speaker.”

Merrick’s voice came through the phone, “Meet us in the gym, Keegan.”

“Yes, sir.” Keegan walked back inside, Logan followed him to the gym within the base where they met with David and Merrick. David looked excited for the upcoming sparring match, and with Keegan, it wouldn’t end quickly or cleanly.

“Good luck.” Logan called as he began to walk towards Kick’s room.

“Won’t need it, kid.” The sergeant responded without turning back to him. The door to the gym closed and Logan could hear the sound of scuffling and Merrick’s voice. As Logan passed by David’s room, Riley noticed him and got up to walk beside him. Riley never liked being in rooms alone, especially not after everything that had happened after his father was killed. Logan wondered if Riley ever felt a similar guilt to what he and David felt. Maybe it was just Riley being protective – he’s always been protective, just like any of the other soldiers on base. Logan walked through the halls with only muscle memory guiding him as his thoughts swirled. It was like he was moving, walking  with only a void surrounding him.

“Logan.” 

Logan snapped back to reality, the void was gone. It was Kick talking to him, he nearly passed his room.

“Off in space again? I could hear you coming down this way.” 

One of the things only Kick seemed to notice. When Logan was dissociating or daydreaming, he would forget about the world around him. He wouldn’t try to be as quiet as possible, like the ghost he was, he would let his boots echo. His footsteps weren’t as gentle and he didn’t walk with his heels slightly raised, which he would normally do to avoid his feet thudding against the ground.

“Yeah, just thinking.” He fidgeted, another tendency of his. Kick kept watching him. “Keegan was trying to give me advice on one-liners.” Kick grimaced.

“You should talk to Hesh about that.”

“That’s what David said, they’re sparring at the gym now.”

“And you aren’t with them.”

“Keegan said to talk to you.”

“Why me?”

“I thought it was because David had given you some ‘practice’ but then Keegan said it was so he could beat his ass.” Logan smiled a bit as he mentioned the supposed practice. Kick opened his door and invited Logan and Riley in. It wasn’t often that Logan was in here, but he was more familiar with the room than the others.

“Honestly, Hesh’s advice works with Hesh. He’s good at smooth-talking and being… normal.”

“And Keegan isn’t–”

“Unless he’s drunk, which takes a lot of time and alcohol.”

“And Merrick?”

Kick paused, thinking it over, “Merrick’s flirting only works with very specific people.”

“Not my people.”

“Probably not, no.”

Logan was about to sit on the floor, as he usually did when Kick stopped him and patted his bed.

“Thought you didn’t like it when people sat on your bed.”

Kick shrugged, “I’m not worried about it today,” Logan nodded. “And you look uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable.”

Kick didn’t need to say anything, he and Logan both knew there was more. Logan took a breath.

“I really want to talk to them more.”

“And?”

“And I want to be able to talk to them on my own.” 

“You’ve already done that. I mean, today before we left–”

“Yeah, but I mean without you guys there.”

“Go tomorrow!” Logan almost spoke but closed his mouth. He couldn’t find his words but he knew what he wanted to say. Kick was confused on the issue until– “You’re worried something’s gonna happen.”

“When David and I were out, that was my first time in a while just being around civilians living their lives, when we went to their cafe. I was trying to relearn how to just exist with people, not soldiers.”

“You still talked to them right?” Logan explained that you had an area where people could write their own orders down without having to speak. Kick hummed, thinking. 

“I’m busy tomorrow, I think Merrick is too, but you could check in with Hesh or Keegan. Maybe one of them could come with.”

“What do I do if I see them?”

“Do what you’ve been doing,” Logan looked at Kick, “Be yourself, try your best, all that stuff. They’ll at least be nice about how awkward you are.”

Logan playfully shoved Kick, trying not to smile. It was true. You probably would be. You already have been. Why would that change now? Logan sighed and nodded.

“I’ll go tomorrow.”

“With Hesh?”

“If he’s free, yeah.”

“Good,” Kick pat him on the back, “Lemme know how it goes.”

“I will.” Logan whistled for Riley to follow him out. As Kick was about to close his door, he called out to Logan.

“Remember to get their number!”

“How?”

“Hack into their phone– how do you think? Ask!” Logan chuffed and kept walking, his footsteps once again silent as he made his way to the gym to see if the sparring was still happening. The sounds echoing through the closed doors told him enough, but this time there was… more? He peeked into the gym and saw a sight that nearly made him fall to the floor laughing. The only reason he hadn’t was because of utter surprise and curiosity.

Merrick had managed to pin both Keegan and David at the same time. Keegan was on his stomach and David sat his lower-back with Merrick on Keegan’s legs and David’s arms pinned behind him. Despite how slippery he was, Keegan couldn’t squirm his way out with their combined weight on him and David couldn’t get up with Merrick’s hold.

“This is one of my ‘old-school’ moves, Russ. Maybe you should learn it.” The captain taunted. Keegan craned his neck back at his superior.

“We weren’t even talking about combat, old man, we were talking about your flirting skills–”

“More like his lack thereof.” David grunted as Merrick pulled his arms back tighter. The action was cut short by a bark that had the men turning their heads as much as they could. They saw Riley just in front of Logan who was still holding the door open, the corners of his mouth twitched watching them.

“Don’t stop on my account.” His voice was smug as ever. 

“You talk to Kick?” Keegan asked, to which Logan nodded, “Get any good advice?” Logan nodded again, “Are you gonna tell us what it is?” Logan inhaled.

“Not yet, but I was gonna ask if either of you are free tomorrow.” He looked back and forth between David and Keegan, half expectantly, and the two voiced their availability.

“Yeah, after 3. That work?” Logan nodded again, said goodnight, and began walking back out from the gym while Riley opted to stay with the three. There was a single grunt that sounded like it came from Merrick and the sounds of scuffling restarted. The playfulness of his fellow soldiers was always refreshing to hear. 

As Logan stepped into his bedroom, his footsteps a mere whisper, he got ready for bed and wrote in his victory journal.

“I saw them again today. Everyone else got to meet them too, including Riley. The food was delicious and I finally talked to them. They seemed like they enjoyed talking to me.” Logan’s heartbeat steadily increased as he wrote about you. “They’ve been so nice…” He paused his writing, “I wonder if they like me too. I’m gonna see them again tomorrow and ask to go on a date. Or get their number, whichever comes first.” 

He wrote a little more about his plans, bringing David and Keegan with, and closed his journal. Logan flicked his lamp off and settled in for the night. Sleep came a little easier after a few minutes of carefully breathing.

~time skip~

Today, Keegan opted to drive to your cafe rather than walk. He drove an old Jeep Wrangler, the typical green so lovingly adorned with dried mud on the tires and fenders. Neither David nor Logan could try to explain the reason behind the dirt aside from the “personality” it gave the car. Whether that was a joke of an answer to explain they were just too busy to keep it clean or perhaps the real reason, no one could tell. 

The trio arrived at Morning Routine and parked in the public lot that was just off to the side of the cafe. As much as Logan wanted to bring Riley along, even the canine soldier had duties. He hoped internally that you wouldn’t be too disappointed. As they walked in, Keegan picked up a flyer from a nearby stand that advertised the same music event you had talked to Logan about before. He read aloud the details to the brothers, “So there’s a prize for the best performances and people get to vote online for who they like the most.”

“Is there one genre or is it open to everything?” David asked. Keegan continued reading ahead.

“Let’s see… Rock, dubstep–”

“Kick would love that.”

“Jazz, hip-hop, pop…” Keegan’s voice faltered, bringing the attention of the brothers back to him. “What the hell is ‘noise music’?”. David was quick to pull out his phone, Logan peering over at his brother’s phone as he typed.

“‘A genre of music that is characterized by the expressive use of noise.’.”

“Thanks, Wikipedia, for being so specific.” Keegan’s voice laced with palpable sass.

David continued, “‘This type of music tends to challenge the distinction that is made in conventional musical practices between musical and non-musical sound.’.” 

As David and Keegan kept trying to understand the new concept, you walked from the kitchen door to the register, not noticing Logan just yet. He debated, and walked up to the counter. You didn’t spare him a glance as you moved around, fixing up the area, a pile of receipts held in one hand while the other reorganized. 

You spoke as you kept moving, “I’ll be with you in just a second!” about to walk back to the kitchen.

“Take your time.” Logan’s voice was calm. At the sound of it, you whipped your head around and grinned seeing who it was.

“Well, well, welcome back. I didn’t realize it was you,” You scratched the back of your neck with your free hand, “I have some, um, things I gotta take care of but I’ll be out in a flash, ok?” He nodded as you once again retreated. Hearing the door swinging back and forth, he noticed the silence had returned to the cafe. Logan turned back, unsurprised at David and Keegan both watching him. He rolled his eyes and turned back upon hearing the door swing again. He noted the lack of receipts and the addition of what seemed to be flour you wiped on your apron. 

“Sorry about all of that, business has been picking up a bit the past few days.”

“Nothing to apologize for,” Logan softly laughed, “I guess that means you have a good business going.”

“That just might be true! Something any business owner should be grateful for.” You shook your head, “But anyway! What can I get you?” You looked past him, “And your friends, too?” Logan gave the orders and paid. As you wrote down more little notes, an employee walked up to your side and collected the notes.

“I got it!” And they went through the door to prepare the meals.

“Thank you!” You called after them. Always so sweet, Logan thought, like honey. “So, Logan,” God, he loved hearing you say his name, “You’re coming to the music, talent-show thing this week right?”

“I plan on it,” You were beaming, smile bright as ever upon hearing the news, “I’ll bring some of my friends along.”

“Oh yeah, we have a bunch of different music that’s gonna be played. I’m sure your friends will like something.” He gave you a look, confused but curious, “I heard you guys talking about your music tastes last time. Definitely got some variety going on.” 

“Heh, maybe a little,” Logan rubbed his forearms, feeling a bit shy as he kept talking. You heard them, you remembered it too, it seems, “I never asked, what kind of music do you like?”

“Well, that’s a bit hard to explain but I’ve been really into jazz lately. There’s just so much that goes into it, y’know?”

“I saw that there’s supposed to be a jazz performance on the flyer, you must be excited about that.” You sighed and leaned onto the counter a bit.

“I am but I’m still gonna be working when it’s going on so I won’t be able to listen very closely, assuming I’m even out here,” You gestured to the area around the two of you, “Baker’s gotta bake.”

“Maybe I can keep you compan–”

Multiple glasses shattered not too far from you and Logan. He flinched hard, eyes snapping shut before widening as his head jerked to see the commotion. A different employee had tripped on a child’s toy and everything they were carrying fell, spilling contents over them and the ground around them. The sharp glass pieces twinkled in the light. 

“Oh shit, Casey, are you okay?!” You exclaimed as they got up.

“Yeah, I’m alright, just bruised,” They looked at their arm, which was now bleeding, red dripping down to their wrist. “Um, it’s alright! I’ll get the first aid kit, it’s not too bad. Can you clean this up?”

“Yeah, yeah, hang on! Logan, I–” You looked back towards Logan and stopped everything. “Logan?” He was staring at the mess, hands shaking and aggressively rubbing at his forearms.

“Logan? Are you okay?” You kept trying to talk to him but your voice was drowned out. 

The blood. 

The broken glass.

The cut on their arm. 

The sound of the shattering replayed in his head as he heard painfully familiar voices.

The room felt cold and hot at the same time, Logan felt isolated, having forgotten the presence of everyone for the moment. His breath quickened as he began stepping backwards. He wanted to be away from all of this. He remembered the sting that was in his arms and legs for so long. He didn’t hear David calling to him, nor did he notice the older man that was approaching him.

“Excuse me, son, are you alright?” The old man put a hand on Logan’s shoulder and he flinched backward, arms wrapping around himself. 

“S-stop, please, stop…” His voice was scratching out of his throat, nearly a mumble as his eyes flit around trying to identify the faces that now looked at him. There were so many eyes on him and he couldn’t recognize anyone. His arms hurt, his heart wasn’t beating but he could hear blood pumping in his ears, people were so close, he felt so weak but the need to get away was so strong in his bones. As his back hit the door, he made eye-contact with you. 

You could see him. You were seeing him. You saw his scars, didn’t you? You saw everything he had been through. You saw the blood on him. His emotions irrational and boiling over, he put his hand to the door handle and ran outside. He ignored the sound of you calling after him, he ran to the car and collapsed against the door, hidden from anyone that would’ve been on the other side. He sobbed, hyperventilating as he tried to fill his lungs. Despite the air he was taking in, he couldn’t feel the way his chest expanded. Oh god, he was gonna pass out, he was gonna die here. He didn’t want to die, he didn’t want to feel himself dying again. He scratched at his arms, at the scars under his shirt sleeves that still stung despite the wounds having healed so long ago. He curled into a ball again, trying to protect himself from a threat that only lived on in his head. Logan didn’t notice David coming towards him.

“Logan?” David had heard his crying and hiccups and approached slowly. His heart broke seeing Logan. He had seen Logan’s episodes and panic attacks before, back when his little brother was still in recovery after being rescued. He recalled the advice his therapist had given him about helping him through the panic attacks. David sat down near Logan on the parking lot ground, careful not to touch him. David’s voice softened as much as he could make it, “It’s okay. There’s no one else. I’m right here with you, I always will be.” Logan sniffled and continued crying, though he quieted down a bit. As this happened, Keegan came out to check on them. He and David exchanged some words, before Keegan looked over at his friend.

“It’s alright, kid, you’re okay.” And Keegan walked away.

 David continued verbally reassuring Logan of his presence, every once in a while giving him soft reminders to try to breathe and to slow down the breaths he was taking. After a few minutes, Logan brought his head up and let it thunk against the car behind him as he looked towards the sky, eyes still watery. He continued his deep breaths and slowly rubbed his arms up and down.

Keegan approached the pair again, both sitting on the ground. David looked over, “Do you wanna head back home?”.

Logan could only nod, his voice gone once again. The two got up, David taking the front passenger, Keegan back in the driver and Logan behind him. Logan noticed the paper bags on the seat beside him. Their food. He had run out before the order came. He sighed in quiet frustration. It was glass, he mentally reprimanded himself, just fucking glass and you ran out like… like… He couldn’t think. He just wanted to be back in his room. Logan held his head with his hand, blocking the light from the window and his eyes from civilians. 

As they went back to base, Logan immediately walked to his room. No words to anyone he passed by, no headpats for Riley, he hardly even acknowledged Merrick. His door closed silently, the shades were drawn and he laid in his bed, more tears shedding with no one else to see them.

A/N🪶 Part 2: The title of this chapter is inspired by the most recent Slowdive album of the same name. I’d recommend Alife and Kisses, but Sugar for the Pill (way earlier song from a different album) would also fit this chapter well.

Also, feel free to check out the whole fic on Ao3 @ RiversSong82 ! Let me know if you enjoyed this chapter, have a lovely day!

[ash-whimsicalfanfic]

Agent Rushmore (CH 5)

Leroy Jethro Gibbs X Fem OC/Reader

Word Count: 1685

Warning: Mild language, violence, gore, guns, fluff, smut, angst, PTSD, graphic scenes…

Prompt: Special Agent Locklyn Rushmore, a highly trained Russian assassin who is skilled in all forms of hand-to-hand combat, weaponry, negotiating and more. When her cover is blown, she is returning back to NCIS headquarters in D.C…

Locklyn Rushmore's POV

I study the board that the team put together. I rip two posters down and continue studying the board. I take another down and look at the remaining seven.

"He was in a coma-induced state for months when the mole shown itself." Director Shepard says, taking down another picture.

I stifle a yawn, studying the last six. It was late. I wanted to wrap this case up and be able to be home. I feel a hand grab my arm and I grab their wrist, spinning as I grab the back of their shirt and body slam them. It was Logan who lets a breathy laugh out.

"And here I was thinking you needed protection." He teases.

"Logan! I'm sorry." I mumble, pulling him up.

"Don't apologize. I should know better than that. The Doc is wondering if you've taken your medicines." He says.

"No. I feel great." I say.

"Take your medicines. You'll heal faster." He says.

I ignore him, pulling another picture down. Until there were two. Abby walks in and I quirk a brow. She slowly walks to me with a pitiful look. She hands me a letter in an evidence bag.

Svetlana...whoever you are,

I gave you my heart, my love, my trust. Yet, you stabbed me in the back. Betrayal is something we take serious in this family. Which I'm sure your aware from your brief time with my family. I'll make you pay for what you did. You've torn my family apart. You've torn me apart. I loved you...I love you...I hate it. I hate you. I wanted to kill you to get it over with and never have to worry about you again...before you could reach your agency you work for. But, I want you to pay. I want you to suffer. And I'll do just that. With flesh. Like we do with all those who betray our family. But, while you seek protection inside that building, I'll hurt everyone you love until you come out. Turn yourself over and no one gets hurt.

With love,

Your fiancé Kenzo

I re-read it and then again as the color drains from my face. I needed to hit something or someone. I was angry, furious that he was bringing people I love into this. Gibbs snatched it out of my hand and I let a breath out.

"I have to go." I whisper.

"No! Your not going anywhere." Gibbs snaps.

"He will start hurting people I care about. I can't let that happen Gibbs. I wouldn't be able to live with myself." I snap.

"It's not the way we handle things around here." Tony says, shrugging.

I was quiet as they talked. I quietly walked around the room, trying to keep myself calm. I had a matter of days before they would act. This was a warning and they were giving me a chance to act upon it. I just wasn't quite sure how'd I slip away.

"Lock, your going to stay with Special Agent Gibbs. You'll be safe there." Director Shepard murmurs.

I run a hand through my red hair, looking away from her. This is my mess. I need to clean it up. They don't deserved to be dragged into this.

I sit down, trying to think of something to do. I couldn't let them fight in this. I knew how the Dixen family fought and they fought dirty. It's me they want and I know that if I turn myself over, they'll leave everyone I love and care about alone.

"I can tell by that look on your face that your trying to figure a way out to fight this alone. There is no way in hell we will let you fight this alone. We will figure it out. Until then, let's all go home and take a break. I can protect her myself. So Logan, tell your team to go home for the night and rest." Gibbs says.

"Be back by tomorrow though and you'll probably have to keep a closer eye on her because she'll probably try to take off on her own." Tony says and I roll my eyes.

"Earlier today, Tony, Tim, Ziva and I parked in the lab where Abby typically studies cars from cases so that you wouldn't be spotted seeming as they have eyes on the building at all times." Gibbs explains.

I nod, choosing to keep my silence. I was frustrated that I even took this case. I have no idea what I was thinking. I run a hand through my hair, wishing things could have gone differently.

Director Shepard puts a hand on my shoulder and I look up at her. She gives me a soft smile, nodding towards Gibbs who was waiting at the door. I nod, standing up and walking to where Gibbs stood.

He was silent, leading the way. I hated that I was the reason that they all had a target on their back. This mess is my fault.

"Stop blaming yourself." He mutters.

"And how do you know if I'm blaming myself?" I ask.

"I know that look. It's not your fault." He says.

"They are threatening to bring you all into this. I can't live with that Gibbs. Just let me turn myself over. It'll be easier that way." I say as the elevator doors clothes.

I tense as he smacks the emergency stop button before turning to me. I look up at him, trying to keep my composure strong.

"No. Because we are a team. And a family. Yes, you just got here and you haven't had a chance to experience how this team works, however I'm telling you. So, start taking notes. We don't handle things alone. We fight together." He says.

"But what if one of you get hurt?" I ask.

"We signed up for this job. We fight for each other. And sometimes...it ends with death. I've had agents take bullets for me. And I take bullets for them." He says.

"This is more than some stupid perp on the streets, Gibbs. This is a powerful mafia family." I say.

"I'm aware. And we will handle it—as a team. Understood?" He asks.

"Is this an order?" I ask.

"Yes. Your first order as one of my agents." He says.

"Okay...but if things go too far...I'm doing this my way." I say once he turned around.

He was about to hit the emergency stop button to start the elevator up, but he turns back towards me quickly. I found myself pressing myself as far back against the wall as I could as I look up at him. He was towering over me, impossibly close.

Our chests were pressed together and he caged me in with a hand on either side of my head. He leaned down, his face inches from mine.

"No. If you want to be apart of my team, you'll follow orders. Otherwise, I'll make sure you go through hell." He warns.

"Define hell for me Gibbs." I murmur.

"I won't let you leave my team. But, I'll put you though hell until you start acting a part of this team. Understood?" He asks.

My eyes flicker to his lips where I stare before I look back up into his piercing blue eyes. But, they were focused on my lips. My tongue pokes out, wetting my lips and I watch his eyes narrow as he watches it.

His eyes trail lower, staring at my chest and I found myself looking at his lips again. I look back up and his eyes slowly trail back to mine.

"A professional sort of hell or maybe one on a more personal level?" I ask, licking my lips again.

"Dammit Rushmore!" He grunts.

I feel his bulge grow harder against my leg. I grin up at him slyly.

"Would you like a little assistance?" I ask.

"Car. Now." He grunts, stumbling away from me.

I grin as the elevator lights flick on and the elevator starts to go down again. They open and he leads me towards a truck.

I climb in to find him looking at me. He grunts, unzipping his pants as he shoves them and his boxers down.

"Come on Rushmore." He growls.

I grin, sinking the floor before moving between his legs. He starts to drive, and I stroke him slowly before I hear an impatient grunt. I lean down, licking the tip to hear him let a soft sigh out.

I slowly take him in my mouth, looking up through my lashes to see him glancing down at me frequently. I move at a slow pace, sucking him occasionally, stroking the part I couldn't take in my mouth. I could tell he was getting impatient, so I sped up the pace slightly.

I feel his hand on my head before it grabs a fistful of my hair. He pushes my head down and I let a breath out through my nose as I focus on relaxing my throat. He groans and I hum. He twitches and move back, but didn't have much time to recover has he shoves my head back down.

He took control.

He guided my head at a fast pace, guiding me to take him deeper and deeper. I knew he was getting close by his grunts and groans.

"I'm going to come. Now's your chance to move." He grunts.

He moves his hand, but I move down, taking him in my mouth further. He groans, coming and I move back, swallowing. I look up at him and he glances down at me at a red light and chuckles.

"No more. I rather you save your energy for tonight Rushmore. The next time I come will be in you." He says.

My cheeks flush red, but nonetheless I manage a sly smile before slowly moving out of his way and climbing up into the passenger seat. At the next stop light, he fixes his boxers and pants before staring ahead. I found myself eager for what he had planned tonight.

[iblameashley]

Drinks with the 141

Civilian | Male | Gay PART 3

PART 1 PART 2

3,298 words Content: alcohol, anger, violence, mention of panic attack, implied PTSD, talk of male genitals

Ghost | OC | Gaz | Price | Roach | Soap After a relatively civil introduction to Ghost, Logan learns that there is more to the man than he knew, and it might affect a relationship, platonic or romantic.

Note: Since I'm going full baby-girl / princess / sweet and kind König in my other stories, I wanted to give more meat to this story. The plan is to eventually have Simon open up and start dating Logan. But first, DRAMA!

Gaz had a special talent for picking the right time to contact Logan. If he didn't know better, Logan would have assumed his apartment was bugged. He was sitting in the living room mindlessly watching TV when his phone buzzed from his end table.

Logan looked at the screen as it lit up briefly and gleamed Gaz' name. He pondered answering it for a moment, and decided 'why the hell not' as he picked up the phone and reviewed the message.

To his surprise, it was an invitation to hang out. “Hmm.” He croaked, reviewing the request. Another text came in as he was still mulling it over. It was a list of attendee's.

Logan had heard of Roach. Not much, but apparently when he wasn't on-mission he could be quite the instigator and prankster on base. Price generally had to keep him and Soap as separated as possible for everyone's sake. Logan also took note of Simon's potential absence. Made sense, Simon hardly seemed the type to go out with the boys.

The pub they were hitting up was about half-way between the base and Logan's flat. It was also a well-known spot for drunken brawls. Perfect place for a bunch of military men to blow off steam.

“This cant possibly end badly.” Logan joked.

Logan spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to find something to wear, ultimately deciding that it was a pub, and he was meeting soldiers getting off duty. A simple pair of Jeans and a nice shirt would do. And of course his favourite hoodie.

Finding the group was rather easy. Once Logan had made his way inside, he heard Gaz laughing before he saw him. Following the sound of the boisterous laugh, his eyes locked on the group sitting around a table near the back. As expected, Simon was absent.

Logan weaved his way through the crowd and timidly approached the table. Truth be told, despite being very gay, Logan had always been uncomfortable around men. There was a slight knot forming in his stomach, but he had little opportunity to focus on it. Gaz saw him and greeted him more enthusiastically than expected.

“Mate! Y'made it!” He shouted.

And there was the knot again.

“Come sit down, sit down.” He ushered with his hands. Clearly he had already had a few drinks in him.

Logan took a seat at the table and gave a nod to the men starting him down. Gaz didn't let the silence linger long. “Logan!” He exclaimed, “This is Cap'n Price” He said pointing to the older, bearded man, “Roach” he continued. Roach gave an approving nod. “And this is Soap.” Soap flashed a devilish smile.

“You, I know.” Logan said, rather bluntly. “Well... know about. Mr. 'cleaning house,' yeah?” Logan on registered how sarcastic that sounded after the words had left his lips.

Soap, thinking nothing of it, nodded and grinned. “Ah, dinnae know I was famous.” He joked, His accent thick in the air. “En' wha stories has me pal Gaz here been tellan?”

Price spoke up before Logan could reply, “I assume certain details were omitted,” he said in a gruff voice. “You know, security, the national and all that.” He gave his hand a wave in the air.

Gaz, feigning offence simply replied, “Cap'n, you hurt me.”

Price simply gave Gaz the side eye.

“Well,” Logan interjected, “He told me about the time you 'modified' Captain Price's coffee with hot sauce. Or what about the time you attached a small explosive to Gaz's coffee mug and scared this shit out of everyone?” Logan paused a moment, and then added, “But who could forget the time you decided to glitter-bombed Simon.. err, Ghost.”

“Aye,” Soap chuckled, "He was absolutely fumin', I tell ye. Pissed doesn't even begin to describe it."

Roach sat to Soaps side, cracking up at the memory.

“An what ye laughin about, Roach?” Soap prodded. “Was your suggestion if I recall correctly.”

“Yeah, but you did it, like an idiot.” Roach shook his head and took a long drink of his beer.

Soap, returning his attention to Logan, continued his story. "We had just got back from a mission and he'd been a right arse all the way back, so I thought I'd have a wee bit o' fun, aye? Rigged a glitter-bomb inside his gear bag when he was bein' debriefed. Well, he gets back to his quarters, and BOOM!" Soap jumped up and made an explosive gesture with his hands before sitting back down. "It was like a bloody disco explosion. I've never seen a man so covered in glitter, I tell ye. He looked like a walking disco ball, shining and sparkling with every move he made." Soap had tears forming in the corner of his eyes as he recounted the incident.

“It took me four hours to talk Ghost down from killing you.” Price said, rubbing his eyes. “And even then I wasn't convinced he was going to back down.”

"Well, he did punch me so hard in me guts I threw up. The impact was like a thunderbolt to me stomach, I tell ye. And then, to add insult to injury, he made me clean his entire room with nothing but a rag. I'm pretty sure it was one of me own shirts, now that I'm thinking about it. Can ye believe it?"

“Well, I'm not happy you're sharing any base stories,” Price admitted, “but these are better than I could have hoped for.”

Roach eyed up the pitcher of beer placed at the centre of the table. It was near empty. “Should we order another?” He asked. “Logan, you drinkin?”

“Oh, yeah.” Logan said, “I'll go grab another pitcher and a pint for myself.”

“Nah, Mate its fine. I can grab it.” Roach said, starting to get up.

“Its fine.” Logan reassured. He got up, grabbed the pitcher and headed towards the bar.

As he walked away, he could feel the intense stared pointed his way. The men were sizing him up. Some more.

“He seems nice.” Price said earnestly.

“How the fuck does he tolerate Ghost?” Soap added.

“You mean, Simon?” Roach said with a cock of his head.

“Aye, caught that. Ghost would shake the daylights out of us if we called him that. 'Cept you, Cap.” Soap nodded.

“I think having someone outside the base, outside the military is good for him.” Price spun his glass by the base as he reflected on it. “Needs away from you idiots.”

“Harsh, Cap'n” Soap pouted.

Logan returned to the table with a new pitcher of beer, a pint of his own and juggling an empty glass. He was happy to see Simon had indeed decided to join them. He plunked himself down in an empty chair.

He set the pitcher in the centre and handed the empty glass to Simon. “Hey Ghost...” He caught himself. “Sorry. Ghost! I didn't think you were going to come.”

Ghost grabbed the glass and poured himself a drink. “I figured Id show up and see what this was all about. Not planning to stay long, though.” He said nonchalantly.

Ghost seemed harsher tonight, somehow. Logan took it a little personally, thinking Ghost must be mad at his presence. “Oh, uh, sure. I get it.”

“Yeah, we were just sharing some funny stories!” Soap blurted out. His brain finally caught up with his mouth and he remembered the last story was about the glitter-bomb. Not wanting to risk another punch to the gut, he deflected. “Yea know... the exploding cup incident?” He laughed nervously.

“Just getting to know each other.” Logan said.

“Is that what this is about?” Ghost hissed. “Ya think a few drinks will loosen my lips and make us mates?”

“Lieutenant!” Price snapped. “Relax, and stop being a dick.”

Ghost shrugged. He pulled his mask down long enough to take a drink and then returned it to his face.

“I was just happy to be invited out with you guys. I don't really have many friends. Seemed like a good opportunity to hang out, chat... not trying to force anything.” Logan said, trying to course correct the conversation.

“Ignore him.” Soap said, his tone harsher than normal. “Ole Si here can be a right cunt sometimes.” He paused. “Respectfully, of course, LT.” he added.

“I'm here for a drink and to relax. Not to make friends.” He said eyeing Logan. “He watches Ella for me. I appreciate that.”

Logan took a long drink from his pint. Nearly downing half of it. Liquid courage? Or liquid stupidity? He was about to find out.

“Yeah, getting cunty vibes, suddenly.” He fired back. “And bold of you to assume you're that important in my life.”

Roach, Soap and Gaz sat in utter amazement at the words and tone that spilled from Logan's mouth. Had he been military, Ghost would have beat him within an inch of his life.

Ghost was grinding his teeth under his mask, and everyone could see it. The tension was running high and Price, ever the commanding officer and dad of the group felt the need to diffuse the situation. “Tha'ts enough, lads! We're here to have a drink and enjoy ourselves, not ruing a perfectly good evening.” His words were stern. They were an order.

Logan, flustered but in agreement with Price apologized. “Sorry. I can get hot-headed sometimes. Didn't mean to start shit”

Price raised a hand and gave a nod. “Ghost can have that effect on people.”

“Fuckin' hell... I'll behave.” Was all Ghost was willing to agree to.

Price accepted the response reluctantly.

“So you work in insurance?”Roach chimed in, breaking the silence.

“Uh, yeah.” Logan nodded. “I audit claims that seem suspicious, or clients have made complaints about, or are contesting the settlements of.”

“You must have some funny stories, then, yeah?” He asked.

“Well, cant give out any private information, but I did once get a document from a client who was in a car accident saying they were fine and their medicals were still valid.” Logan smiled, enjoying the shift in conversation.

“You're kidding...” Price interjected.

“Sounds like Ghost after gettin' shot, ya ken? "No sir, I'm still good for duty! It's jus' a flesh wound!" Soap laughed.

Even Price cracked a smile .

“There was also this guy who was pissed that we updated his height after an amputation of his feet. Sent us a pic of himself against a wall with his prosthetic feet on and a measuring tape beside him. He was really concerned about those few inches.”

“Sounds like you, Soap.” Roach fired. “A few inches and all.”

“Oy, fuck you, Roach! I'm a grower not a show-er”

“That is in no way true.” Ghost said flatly.

“Ye lookin' at me cock, LT?” Soap said bemused.

“No much to look at.”

Logan glanced over at Ghost, surprised the man actually has a sense of humour under all that brooding.

Price, through a chuckle told them to calm down before Soap whipped his cock out. Again. “We had a hard enough time finding this place after we were banned.”

“Oh that is a story I need to hear.” Logan laughed.

“Another time, maybe.” Soap winked.

“So how exactly did you two meet, anyway?” Price asked, pointing between Gaz and Logan.

Logan shot Gaz a look, as if asking permission to tell the story. Gaz gave a tentative nod, so Logan began the tale.

“Well, I had just come back from the grocer, may hands full of bags, and Gaz was already waiting for the lift to arrive. I don't think we had shared more than three words in all the time we had seen each other.” Logan laughed.

“Nah, mate. Definitely more than three. I wished you a Merry Christmas, said Hello every time I saw you, asked if you needed help the time you were trying to get the sofa...”

“They get it!” Logan said, cutting Gaz off. “Anyway.” He turned his attention back to the table. “We get in the lift, it starts to head to the first floor and then...”

“Power cuts.” Gaz added. “Lift stops, lights go out.”

“So we hit the emergency button, call for help, and we're told help is on the way.” Logan took a swig of beer before continuing. “Little did we know it would take nearly four hours for that help to actually fee us.”

“You never told us about this, Gaz.” Price said, with almost a tinge of hurt.

“Just didn't seem important, Cap.” Gaz gave a shrug, and that was all Logan needed to redact parts of the story.

“Well, as I said, I had groceries. So after twenty minutes, I take a seat on the floor. Gaz took a seat not to long after that.” Logan nodded, remembering the series of events. “Lights came back on about thirty minutes into our wait. So... we started to have a chat.”

Logan omitted the mild panic attack Gaz had begun during the wait. Later learning that the jolting of the lift, and the scraping metal had triggered something. Logan had managed to ground Gaz and work him through the attack before it got out of control, though just barely.

“The first hour in, my ice cream was almost soup. So I took it out and offered some to Gaz”

“Wait... what did you use as spoons?” Roach squinted with curiosity.

“Ugh.” Gaz groaned. “All we had were celery stalks. And let me tell you bruv, it was awful.” He let out a delicate laugh.

“He ate it all.” Logan said flatly, taking another drink of his beer.

“Oy! I did not you liar! And you offered it to me!” Gaz defended.

Logan smiled and took the time to gaze over at Ghost. To his surprise he was actually listening intently. 'not here to make friends my ass,' he thought to himself. Ghost and Logan's eyes lock for a split second before looking away.

“Anyway,” Logan said, deciding to wrap the story up, “Power came on and the doors opened about three hours and fifty minutes later. I had to also toss all the milk out. But after that, Gaz and I just started talking more regularly.

The drinks ran dry again, and Logan offered to refill them again. Gaz offered to help, and grab another pitcher.

“Thanks for not telling the guys about my panic attack in the lift.” Gaz said with pained sincerity.

“It wasn't my part of the story to tell.” Logan gave Gaz a pat on the shoulder.

As they waited, Logan felt the need to talk about Ghost. “So what's up with Ghost? Ghost. Whatever. I know he wasn't exactly chatty when we met or brought Ella over. But he also wasn't such an ass.”

“Sorry about him,” Gaz said, leaning against the bar. “Might be the last mission. I cant really say much... but someone got hurt.”

“Ghost was in command?” Logan asked.

Gaz gave a nod. “Doesn't take 'failure' well. Got chewed out a bit too.”

“Price?”

Gaz shook his head. “Laswell. You haven't met her, but she can be intense.”

“Gaz, I know you started all this to set us up...” Logan let out a sigh. “But I cant see this working. He doesn't like people. How is he going to like me?”

“So you like him.” Gaz grinned.

“Gaz, fuck off.” Logan rolled his eyes. “Does he always take his issues out on others?”

“Yeah. Mostly recruits.” Gaz scratched at the back of his head. “But honestly, mate? He's being nice to you in comparison.”

“I'm thrilled.” Logan remarked sarcastically. “Whats going to happen when his regular dog-sitter is available again? I love seeing Ella, but I think he's gonna stop bringing her over.” Logan rubbed at his eyes. “Gaz, this was always going to be temporary.”

“OK, OK. I admit I started this to set you two up.” Gaz admitted. “But, I really think he needs a friend outside of the base. I think Ella could be the first building block to that relationship.” He took a moment to think. “But honestly, he does like you. He's just too prideful and stubborn to admit it. If he didn't like you, he wouldn't even speak to you.”

“I'll have to take you at your word.” Logan gave an unconvincing smile.

As the night wore down, Ghost excused himself and made his way to the door. Out of the corner of his eye, Logan noticed a mobile laying on the floor. “Anyone lose a phone?” He said as he picked it up.

“Looks like Ghosts.” Soap said. “Should have time to catch him.”

Logan, thinking this might be the perfect opportunity to smooth things over, offered to take it out to him.

“I'll walk with ya,” Price said. “Bout time I called it a night anyway, and if you miss him I can take it back to the base.”

Logan said his goodbyes to the team and walked out of the pub behind Price. Ghost hadn't made it far. He was engrossed in a burgeoning fight between two drunkards. Logan sprinted a over to him and without thinking, placed his hand on Ghosts shoulder.

“Gho-” Logan got out before Ghost spun around, grabbing him by the wrist and squeezing hard.

“Don't fucking touch...” He yelled, trailing off as he saw Logan and Price. Logan was already falling to a knee from the pain. “Me...”

Logan felt crippled by the grip, and his legs buckled. White-hot rage suddenly overcame him and he balled his hand into a tight fist. He was at just the perfect height to punch Ghost's balls back inside his body.

“Lieutenant!” Price ordered.

Ghost released his grip. “I didn't know it was you.” He said his voice filled with tension. “What do you want?”

“You forgot your phone, Lieutenant. Logan was bringing it to you.” His voice was laced with irritation. “Show some gratitude, and apologize.”

Logan, trying to take the high road, let the rage wash away and handed him the phone.

Ghost, still tense and unwilling to apologize, looks at Logan with a guarded expression. “Look, I didn't mean to... react that way. It was a reflex.” His voice was gravelly.

“Jesus Christ.” Price huffed, already exhausted with Ghost's attitude. Logan, holding his wrist in pain, looked at Ghost with a mix of frustration and disappointment. “That fucking hurt, Simon.”

“Ghost.”

“Simon.” Logan said. He wasn't willing to make any concessions. “I was just trying to return your phone.” Ghost was avoiding eye contact, and shifted uncomfortably. He was pushing the mix of feelings he had down. Mostly the anger. He didn't mean to hurt Logan, why didn't he understand that?

“Logan, you OK?” Price asked.

Logan gave a nod, still rubbing his wrist.

“Riley. Back to base now. We'll talk about this tomorrow.” Price commanded. “And Logan, I'll get Gaz to take you home. He has a first aid kit at home and can take a look at your wrist.”

“Sure.” Logan wasn't feeling in the mood to argue.

The night ended with an ice pack on his wrist in his flat. Logan couldn't help but think of what a fucking disaster the whole thing had been, and was convinced this would be the end of any outings with the one-four-one. Probably for the best.

[creedx13]

(Trauma)Jason Creed(Touture/gore)

Trauma night terrors and the walk of shame.

Content warning: PTSD, violence and hate

It was the same dream as usual, just a casual relieving of my screen debut with the "Friends Of Humanity".

 Mr. Logan had given me some pocket money for helping him with the firewood. It was like 3 dollars just enough for a slurpee or maybe a candy bar. It was a beautiful full moon night and I was much too excited for sleep. I had just moved up a belt in martial arts class and I was feeling invincible. So I decided, like an idiot, it would be a good idea to leave school grounds and head to the local seven eleven to buy sweets and chase pigeons. I scaled the outer wall using my claws and I was off into the night. I was so absorbed in the beauty of the night and the feeling of freedom in my hair I didn't notice I was being tailed. Rookie error. They wouldn't have caught me so easily if I'd have been paying attention. I didn't even make it to the stupid convenience store. They jumped me on the first block. I felt something hit the back of my head, a baseball bat I think. I fell forward and the bat guy's buddy snapped one of those ugly suppressor collars on me and hit a button. It felt like my whole body was crawling with angry spiky fire. Apparently, this model came with a Taser feature. How wonderful. I black out I hate blacking out. Next thing I know I'm strapped down to some sort of torture chair. Like where do you buy this stuff, super sickos are us? As soon as I started to come around I heard a woman's voice say "It's awake, go time boss." just like that the camera under the ring light turns on and Graydon Creed himself steps From the shadows. Of all the ways to meet your biological father for the first time I'm pretty sure this is the worst. He then started spitting his holier-than-thou bullshit showing my claws and fangs off to the camera then forcibly turning my head to show my ears. He then made the case that I clearly wasn't human and I didn't deserve a place in civilized society "You wouldn't send your child to school with a lion or expect them to share a bathroom or locker room with a polar bear?" as if I was a threat to kids. I'm a kid myself. "Tonight I will make the streets safer. tonight I teach you how to protect your families, your children." he then slowly declawed me, cutting my fingertips off slowly one by one using a pair of sharpened garden pruners. I screamed I cried, I fought, I growled, I swore, none of them flinched. They were void and cold behind their eyes and I was helpless and alone at their mercy. I fought and slashed wildly in my sleep, slicing my bed sheets to ribbons with my claws. I woke suddenly sitting up in bed shaking from the adrenaline and drenched in my own sweat. I carefully assessed my surroundings grounding myself in the present moment just like Mr. Logan taught me after the first nightmare I had in the infirmary. My roommate is deaf which is why he was chosen to share my room cause I won't wake him in the night. I carefully bundled up my torn sheets in my arms and headed down to the laundry room for some spare sheets. Mr. Logan was there he was dropping off his torn bedding as well. At least I'm not doing the walk of shame alone tonight. He hands me a fresh bundle of bedding. "Here ya go kid. You want me to help you make your bed?" he suggests. I can make my own bed but I don't want to be alone right now. I don't think he wants to be alone either. "Yes please." I sound small, I feel even smaller. Mr.Logan just gives me a sad knowing smile. "Common kid." He pats me on the shoulder, he is gentle but firm. After he helped me with my bed, I help him with his bed. As he escorted me back to my room he said something that stuck with me. "Head up kid, you're a fighter you'll get through this. You can and will survive worse. It wasn't your fault and they will pay. they always do in time. Now go back to bed it's past curfew." he gave me a sly smirk and headed back to his room. The terror of my past left me alone until morning. Thanks Mr.Logan you're a cool guy.

[ignis-writes]

Nightmares

Pairing: Captain Logan Syverson × Female Reader

Summary: An ugly Nightmare and how the following day went for the Syverson household.

Pov: First-person pov

Warnings: Mentions of war, PTSD, nightmares, drowning with fluff and angst. Lemme know if there is anything else.

Author's note: I’m not an experienced writer and this work is not BETA’d. Plus, English is not my first language so watch out for obvious mistakes.

Gif: @tellingyouastory

Do not plagiarize my work. Captain Syverson and Sandcastle doesn't belong to me.

Opening my eyes under the coarse moisture, I could sense the sharp wetness creeping into my veins, my fingers were going numb and my eyes couldn’t figure out anything except the painful sting of chilly water blurring my vision

     Where am I? How did I get here?

I tried to swim, but I couldn’t shift my limbs or cry out loud. I wondered if I'm dead already. Maybe I am in that phase where the soul splits from your body, never to be one again. Why else would I lose contact with my limbs? It hurts? Not really, but the confusion is scary and painful.  I gave up, too tired to fight anymore. If this is how I am going, I wanted to leave already, I wanted to end this desperation to breathe.

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Opened my eyes again to my name being whispered in panic but this time I could breathe, I  was breathing fast enough to feel the pulse hammer in my head. My throat ran dry with a protesting cough as I opened my eyes to his concerned face.

“ Sy? ”

“ hush… it’s just a nightmare, bug, you’re safe. ”

I could already feel my eyes welling up with moisture despite the lack of it in my mouth. His calm fingers wiped hot tears gliding down my face and gently raised me to sit on his lap with my head to his chest. His firm embrace was with just enough pressure to calm me down and let me breathe without effort. After what seemed to be an eternity of silence I sensed him shift gently to sit me against the headboard. I gazed at him with glossy eyes and a silent plea to stay a lil longer, I was not ready to leave him yet. He kissed my temple and told me he’d be back in a minute and left the door open with the lights on along the hallway. I could have caught his palm in mine and asked him to stay if the thought occurred fast enough in my tired brain.

He came back with some water and crackers. Turned up the AC and opened Netflix. Sy knew the nightmares stole my sleep and left me with terrible headaches and hot flashes. He removed his sweatpants and climbed into the sheets with me. We curled up into  each other for God knows how long, and somewhere around the crack of dawn, I must have dozed off in his warm chest. This wasn't the first time one of us got up screaming and hiding from the ghost of bygone days spent in mighty graveyards of powdered gold. Initially it was hard, but as time went the PTSD became easier to handle when you have someone  to fight for and someone fighting for you. So we became each other's safe haven, something like a home to hide when the demons came looking.  

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I woke up a few hours later to find worlds best Irish Coffee waiting for me at the bedside table, all captains magic. It restored life into my body and rubbed away the remains of sleep from my eyes. While I was standing under the faucet with water pouring over my face I heard the front door being unlocked followed by a loud lively bark which meant “moooommm im home” around here. Sy returned with Aika from their extended Sunday walk and joined me in the shower with a happy grin.

“Gotta save the wadur ma'am”

mumbled as he walked right in with a slap on my ass. And it would be a lie if I say I hated drowning my captain in those flowery fruity shower gels. He’d declare he ain’t saying shit only cuz he loved me and act all disinterested. Liar. I know he loves them too. To have this hulk of a man walking around my house smelling like vanilla and plum is a dream. He rubbed his beard across my neck and threw sloppy kisses while his hand sneaked around my hips to pull me closer. Ohhh…This is gonna be a long shower. 

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

The day was cloudy with rain soon to follow, when I began to heat up the leftovers and boil some sweet tea while he cleaned up the bedroom and took out the garbage. We sat on the porch savoring mac and cheese with the Chinese Sy ordered for the night  talking about how the backyard fence needed some work done and where we could set up the ranch once we completed the loan on the house. We didn’t talk about yesterday’s incident, there was no need to. After 10 years of being together, we figured out how to avoid cross-questioning over such delicate yet insignificant junctures.

We knew each other by day and night, by good and bad and we cherished that silent intimacy long enough to watch it cool into the wax that held us together. And when we ran out of things to rant,  the silence was comfortable enough to let us deliberately slip into our separate lil worlds enjoying the quiet presence of each other’s company. So here we were starting the Sunday when the sun made plans to sleep, thinking about buying Alpacas and fixing fences while the world spined fast around us. We chose to live these days away from that hasty violent world, trying to make peace with ourselves.

________________________________________________________

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[futurebicon]

Sirius Black and Regulus Black Speak Out About Their Childhood

CW: child abuse, mention of panic attacks, PTSD, minor minor minor mention of blood, awful parenting, starvation, overworking

“In one word describe your childhood?” A voice asked.

“Hell” Sirius sat on a stool in the middle of a dark room.

“Awful.” The screen switched to Regulus, who was in the same room type as his brother.

“Did one of you get it worse than the other? If so who?”

“Sirius”

“Me”

They split the screen.

“Were you protective of each other?”

“Sirius was really protective of me.” Regulus said. “I was too young to really understand it but looking back at it, he always took the blame for me. I broke a plate and he pushed me into a different room and poked himself with a piece of the glass so when my parents walked in it looked like he did it. And my parents hit him instead of me. I saw and went to say something and he just looked at me and shook his head in a ‘Don’t say anything. I’m fine.’ After that he kind of just took the blame for everything I did. Like I said I was way too young to understand what I was doing so I wouldn’t try too hard to not get in trouble. And I feel guilty about it to this day. Just thinking about how much he got hurt because of me.”

“Definitely.” Sirius said. “I was extremely protective of Reg. I always tried to take the blame for him so he wouldn’t get punished. And I’ll always regret not taking him with me when I got drafted. Or not doing anything to help him.”

“What is the best memory you have of your childhood?”

“I honestly don’t know.” Regulus rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“I hate saying this, but when I got out.”

“What is the worst memory you have of your childhood?”

“How much time do you have?” Regulus laughed nervously. “They all kind of blend together. But probably when Sirius left.”

“God, there’s too many to pick just one.” Sirius breathed out. “Um, I remember this one time when I was 10, I hadn’t scored a goal in two games. When I got home from the third game I didn’t score in they told me to go down to the rink and shoot pucks until they told me to stop. They didn’t come down for 6 hours. Even then they just watched me. I think I passed out after about 14 hours. I woke up on the ice and they still made me shoot goals. They gave me a piece of buttered toast and told me I could have one piece of bread a day until I scored a goal during a game.”

Everyone in the room went quiet.

“So yeah that kind of sucked.” Sirius laughed nervously, kicking one of the legs of the stools as he looked at the ground.

There was movement and Remus came into view, walking over and hugging his husband, tears falling slowly down his face.

It cut back to Regulus.

“Who knew about the abuse?”

“All of our family. As far as I know it was the parenting style of all the Blacks.”

“So you thought it was normal?”

“100%. I really truly thought that it was how everyone was treated.”

“Yes and no.” It cut back to Sirius, Remus now sitting beside him.

“I knew it wasn’t right but it wasn’t until I lived with the Dumais’s that I realized how bad it was. One time Louis was running in the house and knocked over a vase and Celeste told him to come over to her and I wanted to grab him and tell him not to go over because I thought she was going to hurt him. Obviously she would never, ever hurt her kids. She just wanted to clean over the glass that was on his socks and explain to him that he can’t run in the house. But that fear was still there. Dumo saw how scared I looked and went down to talk to me. He’s the first person I told about my family. He was in shock about everything and that’s what kind of confirmed that it was not normal and it was not okay.”

“Do you have any lasting effects from the abuse?”

“Yes.”

“Of course.”

They split the screen again.

“Like I said about getting scared for Louis,” Sirius filled the screen. “I still flinch when people yell or there are loud noises. I get scared when there are sudden movements really close to me. I get scared when me and Remus fight, which isn’t often but obviously still happens. I know he’s never going to hurt me but I just remember that my parents' fights always ended with hitting. I have bad anxiety and panic attacks and diagnosed PTSD from it. I revert back to the things my parents made me do sometimes. If we have a bad game I go down and skate on my rink all night or I don’t eat. But I’m getting better.”

“If you could ask your parents one thing, what would it be?”

“Jeez,” Sirius breathed out. “Um… why? Just like, why? Why couldn’t they be parents? Why didn’t they care?”

“Do they regret it? And I know they would say yes but they just regret getting caught. But you know, do they realize what they did. Do they feel any remorse for it?”

“Do you think they loved you?”

“Honestly, no. If you asked me a few years ago I would of said they did when I was younger but thinking about it, we were always just a job to them. Just a thing they had to train. Never their child or even a person.” Sirius answered.

“Probably not. There’s that little bit of me that hopes and prays they did but. No.” Regulus shook his head.

Sirius Black Reads Thirst Tweets

Sirius Black Answers Questions While Playing With Puppies

Favorite Coop Moments

Sirius Black, Pascal Dumais, and Logan Tremblay Play ‘How Well Do I Know You’

Sirius Black and Remus Lupin Auto Complete Interview

The Gryffindor Lions Take The ‘Which Lion Are You’ Test

Bad Jokes- Gryffindor Lions Edition

Characters by @lumosinlove

Leave more ideas

[sidespart]

The Fall of King Romulus Part 9

Summary: Twin Princes Remus and Romulus are cursed at birth with Honesty and Obedience. When Romulus, who cannot disobey any order, is told to kill his brother the next time he lays eyes on him, he changes his name to Roman and runs away. Roman joins up with a misfit group of adventures and plans to never return to his homeland. But the fae have other plans for him… Warnings (for whole fic not necessarily individual chapters): Violence, mind whammying/memory altering, curse of obedience related consent issues, references to sex, references to war related injuries/PTSD, references to child abuse/neglect (YMMV on that one but just in case), antagonstic-but-not-exactly villian!Janus, Extremly-moraly-dubious-but-not-exacty-unsympathetic-Remus

Feedback appreciated.

NOW ON AO3 :D

Prologue Chapter 1   Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Roman kept his back straight and his gaze cold and aloof as he watched his proclamation sink in.

It was a simple thing, to be Romulus again.

Virgil and Patton had been sent to fight and die by their Kings. Roman had listened to Logan rant, many times, about his distain of the noble classes and their control over the common men. Whatever affection they had for Roman – it wouldn’t extend to Romulus.

They would leave.

“Well yes,” Logan said, sounding annoyed “I was getting to that.”

“What?!” Roman shrieked.

“Not require our services?” Virgil stared at him incredulously, “Didn’t we hire you?”

“Logan, you knew?” Patton said admiringly, “You’re so smart!”

“Oh, he did not.” Roman grumbled.

“Well.” Logan shuffled his feet, not looking directly at him, “The Marquis de Ornella called you Romulus. And you attempted to call him by his first name, so I assumed you knew each other- a noble connection was not out of the question.”

“Ha!” Roman pointed at him, vindicated “But you didn’t guess I was a prince, did you?”

“Well, no-” Logan looked on the verge of pouting.

“What services are we even providing? In this scenario?”

“-but If I had had time to do more research then- “

“You know what! That’s a great idea.” Patton smiled brightly, “I think we could all use a little cool down time – Logan why don’t you go back to the library and read up on Nothalevaele”.

“Notaleveale.” Logan corrected.

Patton frowned. “It’s not -aleveale? I swear that’s what he said.”

“It’s not Nothalevaele it’s Notaleveale”.

“Then what is it?”

Roman stuffed most of his good hand into his mouth to muffle a scream.

“Seriously.” Virgil smirked at him even as he leant over to adjust Roman’s pillow. “You just can’t get service like this anywhere else.”

Roman glared at him.

“He-” Virgil jerked his head at Logan, utterly unbothered by Roman’s glare – “shouldn’t go to the library alone.”

Patton nodded seriously and gave Vigil a wide smile.

Virgil glared back.

Patton raised both eyebrows.

Virgil folded his arms.

“No one needs to go anywhere – I told you I’m leaving.” Roman complained.

They ignored him.

Eventually whatever silent argument the two men were having ended with Virgil rolling his eyes and throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“Go find your bag.” He told Logan, who nodded jerkily and all but fled the room.

Roman flopped back against the pillows with a thump, too tired to maintain his princely posture any longer. “He can go by himself, can’t he,” he muttered sulkily, “we’re not actually kids.”

Virgil and Patton exchanged another glance before Virgil turned away to the bedside table, fussing with his pots and potions.

“We’re not sure how many guards got a look at our faces before we got out of the bathhouse.” Patton told him, “Better not to risk traveling alone.”

“Oh.” Roman replied, his voice small.

He remembered the bathhouse. The screams from above. Virgil’s panic-stricken face as he glanced between them and the stairs. Logan with a blade at his throat.

He swallowed hard and cast his eyes down, picked idly at a loose thread of the blanket.

“We should be back before the bandages needs changing, but if you smell anything or see any new pus there’s some ointment left in this one.” Virgil held up a blue-green jar for Patton to see, “Just wash it out first with boiled water.”

“Pus!” Roman squeaked, looking up.

“Your hand was pretty screwed up.” Virgil told him gruffly, “The infection’s what gave you the fever. You need to drink more willow tea, at least one cup every hour – we’ll have to pick up some more salve whilst we’re out.” This last part he directed at Patton, who dutifully rummaged in their stack of bags and handed over their coin purse.

It looked worryingly empty. Roman remembered the extra nights they had booked at the inn – nights which they clearly hadn’t even ended up using - and winced.

“We should look for some road food too, Virgil continued “and a map if we’re really going nor – Oh!” He looked at Roman, eyes wide “Er – about the tea, I mean, you need to drink it every hour but only If you -want to? I mean you definitely should but” he waved his hands as if trying to physically shape the instruction into something optional. “You get it.”

Roman bit down hard on the inside of his cheek and tried to ignore the fondness bubbling up inside him. He had hardly even noticed the order.

“How long was I asleep?” He asked.

“Nearly two days.” Patton said softly. “You really scared us for a minute there kiddo.”

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, “And- thank you. For taking care of me.”

“Aw Roman! You don’t have to be sorry for anything!” Patton said, “Or thank us – that’s what family’s for.”

“You’re not my family.” Roman said quietly, thinking of his father’s cool detachment and a castle full of empty rooms.

Virgil snorted. “Yeah whatever. Listen you gotta – you should eat. And sleep some more. And we are going to have to talk about all this when we’re back, okay Ro – er, Romulus?”

He wrinkled his nose. “Jeez do we have to call you that now?”

“I think it’s a nice name.” Patton interjected “It’s very umm. Regal.”

“Surely ‘Princey’ still works as a nickname?" Logan asked, returning to the room. He threw a pale green coat at Virgil, who made a face but obediently shrugged it on, pulling an orange knit cap down over the pointed tips of his ears.

Almost as an afterthought, he licked is thumb and rubbed at the dark kohl under each eye. He smirked down at Roman. “You ran away from being a prince and called yourself ‘Princey’?

“You called me that.” Roman said sulkily, deciding not to tell Virgil that he’d only succeeded in smearing the make-up.

“Umm.” Logan stood at the head of the bed. Roman braced himself for another round of interrogation, twisting the blanket between his hands. “I suspect I should apologise for– I was just trying to test my hypothesis before started making outlandish accusations. Obviously, I didn’t realise how long you have been dealing with- I mean, it’s actually quite impressive you maintained your sanity for this long given that-”

“Okay! Less talking!” Virgil declared, as Romans knuckles started to turn white. The elf slung one arm around Logan’s shoulders, propelling him towards the door.

“I was only trying to-”

“Later.”

The door closed behind them with a resounding thud.

“So” Patton said after a moment, casually reaching out with one thumb to wipe away the tears collecting in the bard’s eyes, “Would you like food first or a nap?”

***

The library of Steveange was the crowning jewel of the city. A towering hexagonal building that sat upon the cities highest peak, directly across from the gates to the royal palace.

Which meant the journey was almost all uphill.

Typical.

Virgil huffed, breathing heavily as he stomped his way through the streets, Logan practically trotting to keep up with his long strides.

Prince Romulus of Notaleveale.

Honestly, what the fuck.

At least it explained the whole armed guards thing.

Except actually it explained nothing because if you found a runaway member of the royal family, why in the hell would you then tie them up in a bathhouse basement?

Unless they were traitors working against the royal family – but then why go after a runaway prince at all? Ransom? They hadn’t exactly looked strapped for cash….

And why a bathhouse? Why not one the extremely defensible manor houses that were scattered throughout the upper echelons of the city??

Virgil let out a growl of frustration and came to a stop.

Roman’s injuries had been too systematic to have come from a fight. The northerners had tortured him.

And now he wanted to go back there?

It didn’t make any sense…unless of course the kidnappers had ordered him to go back…

Virgil took a deep breath and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to banish that thought. If he started thinking about the curse again he was going to lose it; end up in a spiral of what had they done and what had they missed and HOW were they supposed to protect him if-

“Virgil? Do you need me to count for seven?”

He forced his eyes open to meet Logan’s worried face and let out the breath he’d been holding in a rush.

“I’m good.” He told the younger man unconvincingly.

“We could go back-” Logan started, but Virgil shook his head.

As much as he bristled at being managed, he didn’t think Patton had been wrong to split the group.

Roman – or whatever they were calling him now– was barley recovered. He’d looked so small, propped up against the pillows without a lute or sword or smile between himself and the world.

Small and scared. And puffing himself up like a songbird trying to look big for a cat.

The four of them yelling for answers at once was only going to freak him out more. Patton had a much better chance getting information out of him one on one.

Still…

“You think we’re going got get anything useful out of this trip?” he asked Logan bluntly.

“The library of Stevenage is one of the greatest collections of written knowledge on the entire continent and in times of uncertainty, knowledge is our greatest weapon... and our greatest defence.” Logan told him, a serious look in his eye.

“Right.” Virgil nodded absently, “Do you think they’ve got a copy of ‘curse breaking for idiots?”

***

Roman woke up for the second time that day with a throbbing headache on top of his other aches and pains. He spent a few minutes cursing himself for not taking up Patton’s offer of willow tea before he’d gone back to sleep and then swung his legs out of the bed.

He needed to get up. He needed to relieve himself and wash and eat and and-

And figure out what to do next.

He needed to know if Remus was safe. If he was on the throne or locked up somewhere or worse.

Which meant going home.

Which meant getting away from his friends.

No one else was going to get hurt because of him and his petty little problems.

Nodding decisively to himself he sprung to his feet. And then swiftly sat back down as the world tilted alarmingly around him.

“Roman?” There was a polite knock at the door and Patton stuck his head in.

“Hey kiddo!” the big man smiled at him, “Are you hungry?”

Roman felt his heart rate speed up and tried to summon some of Romulus’ cool detachment. Patton knew about his curse.  If anyone learned about his curse, they would try to exploit it. They would use it to hurt his family, to hurt-

Roman bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to stop the flow of anxiety. This was Patton.

Roman was more likely to be a burden to him then an opportunity.

Before he could manage to come up with a suitable greeting his stomach growled, loudly, making him blush and Patton laugh.

“Shall I bring something up? Or do you want to come sit at the table?”

“…Table.” Roman mumbled, keeping his eyes locked somewhere in the vicinity of Patton’s left ear. Even though he knew, in his head and in his heart, that Patton wasn’t going to hurt him - he still felt oddly vulnerable with his secret sitting between them. Attempting eye contact made something inside him twist uncomfortably.

His mother had always said Romulus was shy.

If Patton noticed his odd behaviour he didn’t mention it, nor did he insist on carrying Roman down the stairs or otherwise manhandling him.  Instead he hovered at his elbow as he made his way from the room, keeping up a running commentary of the house as they descended the stairs.

The room that Roman had been staying in was the attic. Immediately outside the door was a set of stairs so steep they may as well have been a ladder. Patton must have been perched out here, Roman thought guilty, giving him space but close enough to hear him get up. At the base of these stairs was a short landing where most of the items normally stored in the attic were now haphazardly stacked.

“That’s Mama’s room.” Patton nodded at a closed door, as he gingerly ducked under a rolled-up carpet which was wedged against the wall. “And that’s the store cupboard”. At the base of the next steep flight was a hallway Roman recognised: kitchen at one end, main door at the other. There was another door opposite the stairs that he hadn’t noticed on his first visit, with a moon and stars motif painted at eye level.

“That’s her work room.” Patton told him, seeing Romans curious glance, “She’s asked us to stay out of there- it’s where she sees customers.”

Customers. Roman filed that thought away. He had almost forgotten they were in a witch’s house.

Patton took him straight through the kitchen, where a back door led into a narrow garden. The herb bed was surprisingly neat, given the haphazard nature of the house, with small labels pinned neatly next to each plant. At the far end were two wooden structures. “Storage shed.” Patton pointed, “Outhouse. Do you need help using it?”

Roman shook his head vehemently - clung to Patton’s arm briefly when the movement made him dizzy – and stomped to the outhouse to relieve himself.

After a few steps though he stopped.

Patton knew about the curse. And Patton wouldn’t hurt him so-

He could ask.

“Pat?“

“Yeah?” Patton – or at least his ear – looked concerned.

“I. um. My arm is…”

Virgil had instructed him to keep his arm still in his sling until the herbs had done their work and clearly, they hadn’t happened yet. The thing was still pinned across his chest.

Not that he couldn’t navigate the outhouse one handed if he had too. But his balance wasn’t exactly great at the moment and tripping in there was one humiliation he would have liked to avoid.

But then again, it’s not like his hand was any use. He would really just be freeing up the use of his elbow and why was even bothering Patton with something so stupid and embarrassing an-

“Roman. Hold your… hold your whole body however you like.”

He nodded jerkily as his shoulder relaxed for the first time since waking up, letting his arm drop a little lower.

He didn’t look at Patton as he made his escape to the outhouse.

***

When he returned Patton had pulled a tin bathtub from who-knows-where onto the slab of paving stone by the kitchen door and was testing the water’s temperature with his elbow.

“Virgil left us some potions.” He told Roman as he approached – “This is another one to help healing and this-” he held up a red tinted bottle “-should give us bubbles!”

Roman stared at the bath almost hungrily. Hot water was a luxury under normal circumstances and between the travel, the bath house and the fever he knew he must reek of sweat and dirt. Surely, he deserved a little pampering before the journey North?

“It’s still too hot.” Patton warned him before he could launch himself into the water. Instead, the other man gestured to a pretty wrought iron table and two chairs set against the left side fence. He produced bread and jam alongside a mug of tea, advising him to eat slowly as went to grab another bucket of water from the cauldron simmering away in Tay’s kitchen.

Although Patton had been careful not to make an order, Roman still made sure he followed his instructions carefully. He had no desire to make himself sick. Or to make more work for the other man.

He pulled his bread apart into small bites and ate them one at a time, watching Patton critically as he limped his way back to the table.

“Did you get hurt…in the bathhouse?”

“…A few bruises.” Patton told him honestly, spreading a thick layer of jam on his own bread, “Nothing too bad”

“I’m sorry.” Roman said again, pulling his remaining bread into smaller and smaller pieces.

“Ro-man!” Patton said cheerfully – “you don’t need to apologise! It was those Ornelly guys that hit me not you!”

“Right. Yeah. Sorry.”

Roman hunched and cursed himself. Sorry sorry sorry. Couldn’t he say anything useful?

“Roman hey – can you look at me please?”

It took more effort than he would have liked, but Roman did. Patton’s eyes were big and blue and very, very kind. Roman jerked his gaze away immediately.

“None of us blame you for what happened. Okay?”

“You got hurt because of me.” Roman blurted. “Logan nearly died- “

“I told you, that was on the Ornellans, not you-“

“Who were there specifically because of me! That excuse doesn’t work Pat I-“

He cut himself off, eyes glued to the floor once more. Hadn’t he just decided he didn’t want to cause any more trouble?

“Sorry.”

He heard Patton sigh and tried not to flinch, but when the other man spoke his voice was still gentle. “How many bubbles do you want?”

***

Whenever Virgil got upset, he always wanted space. It was something Patton found difficult, as his instinct was to smother the other man with affection until he smiled again, but experience had given him the patience to wait until his friend was ready.

When Logan got upset, he always claimed he needed space – but what he really wanted was an audience. He needed to talk through the problem, often at length, and know that someone was listening, even if he didn’t always want their advice.

Roman though – Roman liked attention. Roman liked fuss and pampering and his favourite food and to know, demonstrably, that someone was worried about him.

It didn’t mean he was great at asking for it. Patton remembered vividly his insistence on hopping half a mile on a twisted ankle before Patton had all but begged him to accept a piggyback.

He also remembered a time after a poorly received show when Roman had spent the evening sulking, sighing loudly and dramatically and slumping against each of them in turn until Patton had laughingly pulled him into a hug. Oh my god Vigil had snarked were you not hugged enough as a child?

It had been funny. At the time. Sort of.

Not so much now.

Since lying back against the tub’s rim would aggravate the wounds on his back, Roman was hunched forward in the tub, his bandaged arm hanging over the edge.

“Did I ever tell you how Virgil and I met?” Patton asked, settling on his knees next to the tub.

Roman twitched. There was a tactic agreement amongst the four of them not to discuss their pasts. This was more than fine with Patton, who was much more concerned with making new, happy memories then revisiting old ones, but he didn’t blame Roman and Logan for being curious.

Whenever the pair were on watch together, conversation often turned to whispered debate over the southern pair’s origin. Whilst he felt a bit bad for pretending to be asleep, Patton quite enjoyed their speculation.

His favourite was the circus performer theory. Virgil would probably has made a good acrobat.

“It was in the war.” he continued, scooping up some of the water and wetting Roman’s hair.

“I um. I volunteered you know? All the boys in my town did. I think we thought- well I know I thought it was the right thing to do. Finaley’ed was the enemy after all, we had to keep our families safe.”

He chuckled sadly, focusing on making sure every strand of Roman’s hair was damp before gently capturing a handful of bubbles and placing them on the other man’s head.

“Made you a crown.” he giggled.

Roman turned just enough to peak at him incredulously through one eye and Patton winced.

“Right. Sorry.”

Roman turned away again but Patton though he saw him suppressing a smile. Score!

“Um anyway” – he poured a measure of oil from one of Virgil’s bottles and rubbed it between his fingers before leaning over to begin massaging Roman’s scalp – “It was okay at first. I was in a regiment with all my friends, it was a bit of an adventure honestly.”

“And then there was this Major. He came to inspect us before we got done training and he – he said I was good. That I should get a chance to really make a difference in the war.”

He dragged his fingers through Roman’s hair, gently detangling the strands.

“He put me in a new regiment. All big guys. Like me. And they- they gave us this – I’m not even sure what it was. My buddy Micha used to say it was ground up swamp frogs but I don’t know.”

He started scooping up water again, rinsing some of the bubbles and oil from Roman’s hair.

“It made us…strong. Angry. Scary. Berserk well– that was the point. I don’t. um.” Some of the water sloshed over his cupped palms and Patton realised he was shivering.

“I killed a lot of people…. I mean I definitely made a difference to them.” He finished bitterly.

“…s’not your fault.” Patton glanced up to see Roman had twisted to look at him, was doing his best to maintain eye contact despite Patton’s confession. Patton smiled at him. Roman really was a sweet kid.

“It’s what I signed up for kiddo. Just faster.”

He sighed, nudging Roman gently to turn around so that he could finish rinsing his hair. “I’m not. I’m not saying it’s the same as what you’ve gone through. I know it isn’t. Just – I get it. A little. What it’s like not having any control.”

For a moment they sat in silence, the only sound the trickle of water as Patton continued lifting handfuls to Roman’s scalp.

Then the bard let out a shuddering breath and said: “My major’s name was Julius.”

“Oh?” Patton whispered.

“He was my dad’s friend. He was supposed to find a way to break the curse, but he didn’t. Then he just…started helping me figure out how to live with it. He was helping me. He was supposed to be…”

Roman took a deep breath “He’s the reason I-ack.” He broke off, coughing. Patton reached forward to hold him up, alarmed.

“Ro?”

“I’m okay.” But he didn’t look it, red faced and scowling. “I-” he gripped Patton’s arm looking right into his eyes. “I can’t tell you.”

Patton nodded slowly, understanding. “You can’t – not because you don’t want to.”

Roman nodded.

Patton frowned. “Can I – could I order you too? I could undo what Virgil said about your arm right?”

Roman sighed shaking his head. “The curse is. It’s fickle. But words are important -if you don’t know what you’re contradicting it’s almost impossible and Julius he – he was very good at giving orders.”

“Right.” Patton frowned. “What if I guess? Like Logan figured out the curse?”

“You can try.” Roman laughed bitterly.

“Hmm okay – was he the reason you left home?”

Roman span around so quickly water splashed over the side of the tub. “Patton! How’d you know?”

“Well gee kiddo! The frog pills didn’t rattle too many cells loose!” Patton laughed tapping the side of his head. Then frowned. “Well, I hope not…”

Roman winced. “Patton I – I’m sorry about what happened to you.”

“Well.” Patton smiled sadly, “Likewise Ro-Romulus.”

The other man sighed, sinking low in the tub again. “I liked being Roman.” he blurted out suddenly, a look of abject misery on his face.

“Then – why stop?” Patton whispered.

“I-” He frowned. “I would like to not be naked for this conversation.”

“That’s fair.” Patton nodded and helped him to his feet.

***

By the time Roman was up, towelled off and dressed in one of Patton’s old shirts that he had long ago claimed as a sleep shirt, he looked about ready to pass out again. Patton left him sitting at the table to finish drying in the sunshine whilst he dashed upstairs to change the sheets on the attic bed. When he returned with the laundry pile, he found that Mittens had emerged and settled himself on the bard’s– the prince’s – lap.

Roman looked up at him guilty - “Your allergies.”

“It’s easier outside.” Patton waved him off. Mittens had been the key to them finding Roman, as far as Patton on was concerned, the cat’s comfort was worth a few sneezes.

He took a seat at the table and nudged the remaining bread towards Roman, who took it hungrily, eating with much more enthusiasm than before the bath.

“So you were saying...” Patton prompted.

Roman pouted at him, cheeks stuffed with bread.

“’u first.” he swallowed, “You never got to how you met Virgil. Was he in the berserkers – in the special regiment too?”

“Oh, no.” Patton shook his head vehemently. “Virgil wasn’t like me. He was a conscript – for the other side.”

An exceptionally fat bumble bee had found Tay’s herb garden and was repeatedly bouncing off the side of some chives. Patton focused on the bewildered looking insect rather than Roman’s face and his finished the story.

“A small group of us had got separated from the rest. It was quite deep in the forest, away from the main battle. We were meant to find their camp and pick them off there, but we couldn’t find them. And then we couldn’t find the way back.”

The bee, finally free of the chives, crashed headfirst into a Rosemary bush.

“It was like… like my blood was on fire. We hadn’t been so long without it before. And then...”

“And then?”

“We stumbled on a group of them. Of Finaley’ii soldiers. And there was a fight.” Patton closed his eyes. Screams and sobs and blood on his sword and in his eyes and Micha gasping uselessly around the arrow in his throat “I don’t remember it much. But when it was over it was like I…woke up.”

He smiled.

“And there he was. Virgil. Pointing s crossbow right at my face.”

“He what!” Roman yelped and Patton laughed.

“Well, we were on opposite sides kiddo and I had just…well. The thing was, it was only us left then. No one was ordering to kill each other and so we just…didn’t. Neither of us was in any big rush to find our armies again so….”

“Virgil asked me to help him find his mom, so we headed east. We couldn’t find her, so he said he’d help me find my town and we went west. That was gone too.”

“The whole town?” Roman as looking at him with sorrowful eyes.

“That’s the problems with wars kiddo – they don’t stay in one place.”

“What about your family?”

Patton shrugged. Mittens hopped down from Roman’s lap and began to stalk the errant bee.

“Maybe they got away. I hope so.” He glanced at Roman again. “Virgil was the one who suggested we keep going west. Get away entirely, see if we could find any refugees, look for our families.” He smiled fondly. “He’s always been the brave one, not me.”

“And – and did you?” Roman asked. He was bent forward, eyes fixed on Patton’s own.

“No.” Patton sighed. “I like to think they’re safe and sound somewhere. Set up a new house, found new people to care for. Like I did. But… “

He trailed off. But most likely they were dead. Like Patton should be.

“What if…if you knew where they were.” Roman said quietly, “Would you go see them- check on them?”

Patton rubbed his hand over his face, feeling the multitude of scars that littered the right side. “I don’t know.” He told Roman honestly. “I would like to know if they were okay but…I don’t know if they’d want to see me.”

Roman nodded.

On the other side of the garden, there was a sudden yowling from the rosemary bush. Mittens came charging towards them with his tail fluffed up and circled Roman’s chair twice before leaping onto the fence.

Patton giggled – “Well that’s what you get for trying to fight a bee you silly cat!”

“I think my brothers in danger.” Roman said in a rush.

Patton blinked.

“Your brother?”

He was back to staring down. Both fists clenched tightly together. “I left him. Back home. I thought I-” he coughed again. “I thought he would be safe but now I’m not sure.”

“In danger from what kiddo?”

“From Julius.” Roman breathed. “I saw him. Or. Or I think I did.”

Slowly, haltingly, Roman told him about meeting the Marquis. About the bathhouse basement and the northern soldiers and the figure he called the grey man who had slipped in and out of Julius’ face.

Patton did his best to keep his own face clam as Roman casually described being forced to hurt himself, even as his own knuckles turned white from his grip on the chairs’ arm.

“He said he had sent Lucius to the inn after some – some escaped prisoner? And he found me. But Lucius knew about the curse and he never did before so- “

“Roman?” Patton interrupted. “Sorry - can I give you a hug?”

“Oh!” Roman blinked at him, blushing slightly, “If you – if you want to?”

“I really do.” Patton scrambled to his feet, wrapping the younger man in his arms and feeling Roman sag against him. He resisted the urge to squeeze, mindful of his injuries. “You’re safe now.” He whispered. “I gottcha.”

Roman giggled wetly against his chest. “Julius. He said he’d assumed I’d died.” He mumbled.  “But now that he knows I’m around? He’ll try again Pat I know he will. I- “

He drew back, looking up at Patton with tear filled eyes. “I can’t risk you all getting hurt because of me.”

“That’s not your decision to make Roman.” Patton told him softly. “We think you’re worth the risk.”

“But I’m not Roman.” He whimpered. He hadn’t relinquished his grip on Patton, who began to run his hand soothingly up and down the prince’s back.

“Well, if we’re being technical, I’m not Patton.” Patton rested his head on top of Roman’s own. “Me and Vigil picked new names after we left the war and I – I like being Patton.”

There was a pause. Roman squeezed a little tighter.

“I like Patton too.”

Patton laughed; some tension he hadn’t realised he was holding draining away. When Roman drew back this time, he had a shaky smile on his face.

“So.” He stepped back, wiping his eyes with the back of his wrist. “I need to…go back north. Check on my brother. Avoid Julius and Lucius and anyone connected with Romulus. You sure that’s worth the risk?”

“Yep!” Patton said instantly. “And we need to break the curse!”

“I guess.” Roman shrugged. “I really do think it’s impossible Pat’.”

“Eh.” Patton waved a hand dismissively “That’s never stopped Logan before.”

When Roman laughed then, he almost sounded like himself.

If you enjoyed this chapter please hit ~ reblog ~

[tokillamockingbird427]

fuckin hell, katar, ouroboros is making me CRY /pos

Was it because I gave Logan PTSD

[canvas-the-florist]

Not Very Realistic

Ships: platonic prinxiety, platonic logince,

Warnings: Car accident, injuries, PTSD, swearing, food mention,

Summary: Roman considers his feelings about his car accident. This is basically a vent fic about a car accident I was just in, I’m okay, but that does mean it will be extremely full of angst and if that’s not your thing I wouldn’t recommend this specific story. AO3 Link

Word Count: 2.5K

-

    There’s something weird about trauma that Roman just didn’t understand. He knew that logically, that the car had crashed, but he wasn’t a very logical person. Even looking at the wreckage in full, talking about what happened to his family, part of him still refused to believe that none of it had happened. Despite looking at the cuts showing blood on his hands were right there as evidence. None of this felt real, but it was. How does he deal with that?

Roman ran his hands through his hair. It had been a few hours. His arm had gotten washed up. He was completely fine, except for a few bruises around his fingers. But was he fine? Roman had stopped crying a while ago and mostly just felt denial. Thoughts in the back of his mind were whispering ‘you wouldn’t crash a car, you wouldn’t make that kind of mistake’ and ‘you didn’t even break a bone, car accidents are worse than that.’ They were silenced when Roman breathed in, almost believing he smelt the smoke. Everything should have been fine, but he had gone and messed it up. He didn’t want to, he genuinely thought that things were going to be okay.

    But they weren’t, and they aren’t.

    It had been a few hours since the accident. Roman felt like he should be more phased. A car accident was an extremely traumatic event that he had experienced that same day! And all he could think about was the fact he couldn’t remember what it felt like. Roman knew what happened before; He was trying to make a turn on a green light and didn’t see the other car. And he also knew what happened after; calling Patton in a panic because he made a mistake he forgot that can just happen to anyone. Roman remembered the police officers and his family rushing to him, asking him what had happened, only for him to choke out that he didn’t know. He laid back on his bed, looking up at the ceiling. Realistically, he had been extremely lucky and he knew that. Car related accidents kill so many people every day. And he just spent one afternoon watching his car getting towed before going home without saying anything.

    Logan said that it wasn’t productive to think about how past events could’ve better played out. But, Roman wasn’t a logical person. He couldn’t help but imagine it. Replaying how he reacted. He could’ve been looking better, he could’ve registered how the fucking rules of the road work. Hell, he could’ve been quieter instead complaining about whatever song Virgil was playing on bluetooth. He rolled over to the side that was less hurt and took a breath.

    Virgil. He bit the inside of his cheek. This entire event wasn’t okay, and was absolutely Roman’s fault. Virgil shouldn’t have been stuck with the consequences of someone else’s actions. Roman’s thoughts helpfully reminded him that he had been in an accident, something that his brain decided to forget to process once more. Roman felt so incredibly guilty for all the pain he put everyone in. He knew that he was hurt too, but did that matter? It was all his fault, anyways.

    The door creaked open and Roman heard someone clear their throat. Roman looked up to see the other victim of the car accident. Virgil seemed tired and awkward in the doorway. “Logan made food. Said eating and drinking water can help with the effects of everything.”

    “Okay,” The way his voice croaked out the word sounded like Roman’s mouth forgot how to form words and he hadn’t had water for a decade. He cringed at the sound of it. Roman started to say something, an apology maybe? But Virgil started closing the door. So he whispered another sentence. “I’ll be right out.”

            Time and time throughout the day Roman could go from joking about what had happened, to feeling bad about it, to almost completely forgetting about it entirely. He felt weirdly guilty about his own emotions about it. Like he wasn’t reacting necessarily as he should. Roman couldn’t even tell how he felt about it all, he was just tired. Too much had happened and his body was tired of experiencing all these things. So it wasn’t, not properly anyway.

    By the time the sun had set, Roman was sitting outside, watching the clouds go by, not really putting any effort into thinking. And still his mind was bombarding him with fear, pain, and guilt. So much guilt to the person in the other car, and to Virgil, who had to experience it with him. Mostly he felt guilty to everyone around him for having to deal with it because he was too busy being sorry that he couldn’t move or breathe. He wasn’t crying anymore, and his breathing was fine. But it didn’t feel like that. Should he be in more pain? Is that something that he deserves? If you’re going to wreck a car, why go for the simplest way to do it? Car crashes feel like a very dramatic experience so why does Roman feel underwhelmed?

    Everything was too much or too little for his brain and Roman wasn’t sure how to handle it. He held himself with his arms, wondering why this had to happen. If he hadn’t been overly ambitious for once, this wouldn’t have happened. Right?

    “How are you feeling, Roman?” Logan asked him. Roman had almost completely forgotten that he was there. Roman blinked and gave a huge smile.

“Well, specs, can’t say that I planned for any of this to happen.” Roman shrugged, his smile dropping as he looked down. His arms loosened up. Logan nodded, like he wanted Roman to open up about everything. Or maybe just to show that he was listening. “I was so sure that I wasn’t going to get hurt. Which isn’t true and I know that. Everyone can get hurt, I was caught up in some sort of main protagonist complex that I didn’t even realize that my mistakes matter. I fucked up and I don’t know if I can move on. My brain isn’t even letting me confirm that it happened, despite me knowing that it did. I blinked and the car was full of smoke.”

    Roman laughed bitterly, and Logan furrowed his eyebrows in concern, but didn’t say anything. “I didn’t even register what had happened until Virgil told me to get out of the car. I truly don’t believe that I would’ve moved without him. Which is pathetic. I caused that accident but Virgil had to take charge of the situation because my brain wasn’t able to process it. And now I don’t know how I’m going to react to having to drive again! What if I fuck up and this time it’s even worse? None of this feels okay but I don’t know what to do…”

    “Do you want advice?” Logan asked, calmly. 

    He decided to nod, focusing on trying not to cry instead of speaking. 

    “Alright. I believe that some of your thinking is similar to the cognitive distortion called ‘catastrophic thinking’. Catastrophic thinking is when after a person experiences a traumatic event starts reacting to every possible danger at the same level of the event they experienced. This is because it takes away the thinking that you’re constantly safe and not going to get hurt, so your brain is trying to make you feel safer by taking your ability to EVER get put into danger, which is not something that you can avoid.” Logan took a breath and stopped to make sure that Roman was still following. He was looking down at his fiddling hands, repopping his fingers repetitively. “You’re going to have to slowly break through this habit of thinking by giving yourself alternatives that aren’t just ‘safe’ or ‘dangerous’ because that is not how the world functions.”

    Roman nodded, mostly to himself while Logan was talking. “Okay.” His voice was smaller than he wanted it to be but he was too tired to attempt to change that. Roman stood up shakily, not from the accident, but from his own fear enveloping his head. “Thanks Logan, I mean that, I really appreciate this. I’m going to try going to bed now.”

    “Of course, Roman.” Logan responded, as Roman opened the backdoor back to the inside. He made no attempt to move, just watching his friend walk away from his sight. “I am here for you whenever you need me.”

    As the door closed, Roman could see that the sky had gone dark as the sun disappeared.

    Virgil had apparently decided to check on Roman one last time before going to bed. If him walking in after knocking a few times meant anything that is. Roman made eye contact with Virgil, wondering if that was going to be the end of their friendship. He would completely understand if it was, seeing as how badly everything had gone. Roman took a deep breath and got ready for any chastising that could occur.

    “Princey?” He tensed up, waiting for Virgil to finish. “Are you okay? Today was… a lot.”

    Oh, huh. “I mean, not really, but that doesn’t matter as much. How are you feeling? It wasn’t your fault that the whole thing happened. I’m so sorry.”

“Dude, I know you’re sorry.” Virgil stated, sitting on the bed next to Roman. “I didn’t ask about that. I know you didn’t mean to crash a car, that isn’t your thing. And the question was kind of a formality anyways. I just wanted to know if you were open to talking about it.”

    Roman groaned. “All I’ve DONE today is talk about it. It’s the only thing in my head and my brain is still trying to convince me that it didn’t happen.” He fell backwards onto the bed, while Virgil watched him without a readable expression. “It’s all so much but also just… Just not. Y’know?”

    “Yes,” Virgil said plainly. “I do know. Believe it or not, I was there. And I don’t blame you, man. You made a mistake. One that might traumatize us, but I’m not going to hold that against you. We’re both equally messed up here.”

    The two laughed, and Virgil laid down next to Roman. Roman took a breath, something he wasn’t able to do when talking to the police. While looking at the ceiling he decided to think out loud. “Can you believe how many people honked at us when we got out of the car? I mean I know it was in the middle of an intersection but also the car was like half destroyed. The audacity is unreal.” He vaguely remembered hearing some of those cars stop to call 911, and the words of what they said echoing in his mind. 

    Virgil rolled his eyes dramatically. “I know. Two cars, one on the sidewalk and the other in the road after the car crash, how dare we be focused on other things than what everyone else needs to get done? I’m actually surprised how well we held it together for a while, before we both started crying on the concrete, at least.”

    The room stayed silent for a while, both of them still processing what happened to them. Roman was tired of every moment of silence being interrupted with thoughts of the accident. He remembered yelling out as soon as he saw the other car and it was too late. One moment they were going to go shopping, and the next he blinked to see the airbags and smoke coming from everywhere. When Patton, Logan, and Remus arrived he was sobbing apologies into their shoulders, wanting to believe that none of this was real. It certainly didn’t feel like it. Roman wiped off the tears that were starting to form and looked at Virgil.

    “How do we move on from this? This is just… So much.” Roman asked. Virgil had been in a few car accidents as a child, some better and some worse. Still traumatic.

    “Well,” He started. “It took a while, and I mostly associated the fear of being in a car to the exact situation I was in. Like an icy road or something. But this just… happened. And there’s nothing we can do to change that. We… I don’t know what we’ll do, but we can figure it out.”

    Roman tried not to look discontented. “That’s not exactly as well thought out as I would like, I kind of just want to move on. How can I focus on the future when every other thought is reminding me that we could have died?! We could have killed that person and our future and their future would have been ruined. I should’ve waited, I should’ve looked, I should’ve-!” He sat up, and Virgil soon followed. Roman wasn’t crying but he looked like he was about to. Virgil held his arm and he fell limp onto the side of his friend. “I just wish it didn’t happen at all.”

    “No one wanted it to happen,” Virgil muttered. “It just did, and we have to accept that.”

    “I don’t want to,” Roman complained weakly. “None of this is fair.”

    There was no arguing that, and both of them knew it. Time kept passing by while the two considered everything. The topic could get distracted or happy, but eventually it would lead back to the car wreck. Evidently, it was going to be on their minds for a long time. Roman didn’t exactly enjoy the fact he couldn’t automatically move on, but tried to take what everyone had else said to heart. It was okay to acknowledge that the accident sucked without letting it control him, however long that took. Virgil left the room to sleep and suggested aggressively that Roman should do the same. He didn’t even notice that it was late until it was pointed out to him.

    Lights were turned out, and Roman curled up in a fetal position under his blankets. He still felt kind of sore, more so than he did a few hours earlier. That also wasn’t fair, but whatever. Roman was supposed to be accepting things, so he could start healing. He moved around to try and get comfortable with little success. 

    Trauma was weird to Roman. One moment everything was fine until it wasn’t. One moment you could be having an entire mental breakdown over a small mistake with big consequences, and the next you’re under the covers like nothing had happened. But all of this was normal, and he was allowed to be like this. Allowed to react to the events that occurred. It would take a long time, and maybe that was okay too.

Taglist: @ghost-in-haunting @logan-sanders-enthusiast @imjustvibingyaknow @hailcap85 @brilliant-and-a-bit-mad

[full-of-roman-angst-trash]

The Start of a Family

Okay! Here it is! The first fanfic of my new AU! I think I'm just going to tag it as Therapy House AU for now. Anyway, I hope you enjoy. (P.S this is written in Thomas's POV)

TW: Mention of food and eating disorders, mention of vomiting and getting ill, abuse hinted, PTSD attacks, fighting, and negative body image. (tell me if I missed any and I will add it)

October 19, XXXX

I just opened my therapy house!! I'm so happy! I'm so excited to be able to help people. The house ended up well too! It has 6 rooms and 3 bathrooms! I really like how all the rooms look! I still need to furnish some of the rooms and get a few things for the kitchen and bathroom. I'll try and do that tomorrow though.

Aside from that, I just need to choose my room and get it all set up. I need to finish moving some of my stuff too. I’ll try and finish that today before going to the store to get some food. 

I’m so excited to see where this all goes. I worked so hard for my Doctorate and I really want to be able to help people get better. I know how tough life can get and how badly it can affect your mental health. I want people to know that they aren’t alone. Hopefully, I’ll be able to do that for at least a few people. I’ll just have to see though.

November 3, XXXX

I got my first patients today, two siblings. Logan and Emile Keane. Their mother dropped them off earlier today. I read through their records and I'm a bit nervous to help them

Logan is 17 and incredibly smart. Yet if I'm not careful then he could cause me a lot of trouble. He has anger issues and is prone to lying and fighting. On top of that, he's a narcissist. He could easily try to play me for a fool or try and get physical if he feels like I am looking down on him. I just have to keep an eye on him and try and see through any tricks he might try. I also have to make sure to remember his eating disorder when making meals. Though that shouldn't be too hard since I like to keep things healthy anyway.

Emile seems a bit easier to handle. They're 15 and seem like a very sweet kid.  For them, all I have to do is remember to help them slowly learn to be more dependent and keep their fears in mind. The main thing though is helping them get through all the awful trauma that they had to face in school and the adoption center they used to be at. They seemed a little scared of me when they saw me so I might have to teach them how to trust authority again. 

I'll be putting both of them in room one due to Emile's separation anxiety. Plus, Logan seems very protective of them so I don't want to separate them anytime soon. 

I'm so ready to help them and see them grow! Hopefully, I'll be able to pull this off. Their mom really seems to care about them so I would hate to disappoint her. But even more importantly, I don't want to let these kids down. 

December 19, XXXX

I got a new patient today early in the morning. His name is Virgil Brown. He is 17 and a very quiet boy. When his siblings dropped him off he didn't say anything and refused to even look at me. 

According to what I was told, he has really bad anxiety and schizoid personality disorder so interacting with him will definitely be hard. I wasn’t given any records about him so I’ll try and give him an official diagnosis someday. I’ll also have to be careful since I don’t know if he has any other mental disorders and/or physical disabilities.

I’ll have to worry about that another day though. For now, I’ll just let him have a week to get used to being here before I try to get to know him. 

I gave him his own room to make sure he has privacy and to minimize the possibility of him having a panic attack. I didn’t really have a choice though, even if I wanted to put him with Emile and Logan. Logan already doesn't seem to like Virgil. He was glaring at him earlier. Emile seemed to have noticed too since he whispered something to him before they both went to their room. It’s for the best that I keep them separated for now. I just hope that he doesn't try to do anything to Virgil. I want Virgil to feel safe here. 

I left some food and a water bottle outside of his room and he seems to have taken it so that's a start. I hope he will actually eat. I left him a note on it saying that he doesn’t have to eat all of it but to try and eat a little. I’ll come by his room later to see if he put the plates back out and to see how much he ate.

January 15, XXXX

Today has been an interesting day, to say the least. It started off with Logan and Emile fighting at breakfast. I’m not really sure what the fight was about but I managed to separate them. The fighting gave Virgil an anxiety attack so I had to also calm him down, which was harder than it sounds. I mean, he has only started actually eating with us last week, and even now he barely speaks so I still don’t know anything about him. I managed to do it though so I guess there's no need to focus on that anymore. 

At noon, I got a new patient. Her name is Paiton Garner and she is 16. Her parents dropped her off and left relatively quickly. Thankfully, they did give me her record though. She has ADHD and psychosis caused by sleep deprivation. As far as I know, she doesn't have an eating disorder or physical disability.

So far, she seems very sweet and inviting. She and Emile seem to already be getting along.I saw the two of them talking in the living room earlier. Logan didn't seem very happy about that, but he thankfully didn't do anything about it. Virgil didn't meet her today since he refused to leave his room for the rest of the day after the morning argument. I'm sure they'll meet another day though.

I gave Paiton her own room since she said she feels more comfortabale with her own room. I'm guessing this has to do with the fact that she's trans. Either way, I didn't mind her getting her own room though, since I want her to be as comfortable as possible while staying here.

Emile also accidentally broke off the leg of a plastic chair I had after kicking it. He felt extremely bad and I had to reassure him that it’s okay. I wasn’t mad at him at all. If anything, I thought it was kinda funny. I’ll go get a new one tomorrow and then try to figure out what I can do with the old one instead of just throwing it away.

I finally have some peace and quiet right now though. It’s about to be curfew time so the others are getting ready for bed. Hopefully, tomorrow won’t be as chaotic as today was. 

February 3, XXXX

Today was yet another interesting day. It started off normal enough. The morning was relatively peaceful and uneventful. Emile and Paiton talked about wanting to go out to the store this weekend. Meanwhile, Logan and I talked about astrology. Virgil even joined in our talk for a while. I think Logan is starting to like Virgil more.

At around one pm. I got new patients. Two step-siblings. One of them is named Janus and the other is Remy Dimitriadis. 

Janus is 15 and is genderfluid. They have gotten in trouble with the law multiple times for stealing, they seem to be a kleptomaniac. Their parents believe they might have undiagnosed ADHD but they refused to get accessed so I’ll have to try and do that someday. So far, she seems very smart and quick-witted. I was warned that she is very cunning and manipulative so I’ll have to keep that in mind. She seems to be very cautious and skeptical. When I tried talking to her she was quite defensive and didn't appeared to trust me at all. Hopefully, once she feels a bit more comfortable here she’ll be less aggressive. 

Remy is nonbinary and goes by they/them. They’re 18 and seem very interesting. Janus seems to cling to them a bit but they seemed quite annoyed with their younger sibling. They’re diagnosed with Narcolepsy and Bigorexia. However, they have denied medication for their Nacolepsy before and seem to have gotten a caffeine addiction. They see very smart and independent. They’re very talkative too.

Remy and Logan crossed paths earlier and they had a bit of an argument. They seem to have clashing personalities since they are both very smart and opinionated. I was able to break them up before it got out of control but I’m nervous about how they’ll continue to behave around each other. 

Janus didn’t talk to anyone but Remy all day. Paiton tried talking to them but they just ignored her. I tried talking to them too but I got the same results. 

I put both of them in the same room since they seem to only trust one another at the moment. I don’t know if that was a good decision though. Remy didn’t seem so happy about having to share a room but they didn’t put up a fight about it. Hopefully, it will be okay. The two of them give me a bit of a weird feeling so I’ll keep a close eye on them.

April 16, XXXX

Everyday has been quite choatic lately.

So far, Emile and Paiton seem like close friends. They talk a lot and seem to get along well. As far as I know, they haven’t fought yet.

Virgil has seemed to have opened up to me and Paiton a bit. So I’m glad that he’s making progress. 

Logan and Remy are very on and off. Sometimes they act as good friends and talk about their common interests. Other times, they are at each other’s throats and getting in heated arguments. 

Janus still hasn’t gotten close to anyone (aside from Remy of course). In fact, they have actually started teasing Virgil. I’ve done my best to explain to them why they shouldn’t be doing that but they haven’t listened to me so far. 

Paiton doesn’t seem to like Janus much at all. Whenever the two of them are near each other they both seem very tense. They’ve had a fight once but thankfully it didn’t go too far. 

It's constantly very loud in the house. I’m doing my best to keep things in order but it’s kinda hard. I think I’m making some process though. I just have to stay positive and patient.

June 4, XXXX

I got two more patients this morning, A pair of twins called Roman and Remus Malvolio. They're 16. Their mother, who seems like a lovely lady, dropped them off.

Roman is the older twin. Xe goes by xe/xem, they/them, and fey/fem and are biromantic. Xe struggles with anorexia and a purging disorder. As well as depression, insomnia, and PTSD. Xe seems very quiet so far as xe only waved at me when I said hi. Xe seems very creativity though as I noticed that xe has a box labeled art supplies as well as another labeled theater stuff. That’s all I know about xem so far though. I haven’t gotten to chance to have a conversation with xem yet. Though, I did notice that xe seemed quite protective of Remus since xe kept making sure that Remus was nearby at all times. 

Remus is pansexual. He struggles with Pica as well as depression, insomnia, and PTSD like his twin. He seems like the more curious twin. I noticed that he looked around a lot as I showed them around the house. He actually said hi to me but other than that, he didn’t say anything else. He seems to have a pretty vulgar vocabulary since his luggage was decorated with inappropriate stickers. He doesn’t seem like that bad of a kid so far He seemed to constantly make sure he doesn’t bump into or touch anything. Just like his twin though, I don’t know much about him.

I put them in the same room. They came out of the room a few times but didn’t acknowledge any of the others. They both skipped rbeakfast lunch, and dinner. I left them some food outside of their room but they only seemed to have gotten the juice and the granola bars I left. Everything else they left untouched. I walked past their room earlier but I didn’t hear much. I heard them whispering to each other a bit though. I wonder why they were whispering. I guess I’ll just have to get them to open up to me. 

July 15, XXXX

Things have sure been rocky and crazy. 

The twins have are not as quiet as I thought they were. They are constantly arguing with each other. Roman talks very loudly and likes to sing a lot. Remus randomly yells from time to time. They sometimes do go quiet though and will just not talk for a whole day. 

Remus and Janus have become friends. They mess around a lot and have a bad habit of accidentally breaking things. They have also chosen to make fun of Virgil together much to my dismay. Which I stop whenever I can.

Logan and Remy are now best friends I think. I mean, they don’t fight as often as before anymore. Sometimes they get into debates but that’s about it. 

Roman has become somewhat friends with Emile and Janus but for the most part, fey prefers to be alone. Fey mostly stays in feir room or in the living room. They mostly tend to spend feir time writing, listening to music, or drawing. 

Paiton and Emile are still really good friends. They like to cook together and play games. They’re probably the closest out of everyone.

Virgil will sometimes talk with Roman and Logan but he mostly just sticks with Paiton. Paiton doesn’t mind though since she seems to really like Virgil. 

Janus and Paiton are starting to argue more and more. She is also now sometimes arguing with Remus. Remus seems to find it funny to piss of Paiton though so he teases him anytime they argue. 

Logan and Roman fight sometimes, mostly because it seems like Logan reminds Roman about part of feir past. On top of that, Logan hates Roman’s guts and finds fei irritating. For the most part, I try to make sure I keep them separated since they have gotten into a physical fight twice now (which almost led to Remus fighting Logan).

Roman and Remus don’t handle fighting that well though. So during most fights, the two of them will hide away in their room. Anytime they get into a fight and it seems to be getting out offhand they’ll either get physical or have a PTSD attack. I've tried to help them with this but it’s obviously a very sensitivde topic for them so for now I’m just trying to slowly learn more about their past.

Eating times are probably the hardest. I always do my best to encourage Roman to eat, most of the time fey manages to eat a few bites which I make sure to praise fem for. Sometimes fey gets nauseous and ends up throwing up.

Remus is always trying to eat stuff like his napkin and the ice in his drinks. I had to get rid of the plant on my table since he kept trying to eat the soil. Thankfully, he still eats his normal food but  I constantly have to try and make sure he doesn’t eat other bad things. One time, he tried eating part of the table.

Remy constantly keeps a journal about what he eats and calories. He doesn’t eat anything he thinks is too unhealthy. He also tends to exercise about 30 minutes after he finishes eating. I try to make sure he doesn’t overwork or over-exercise himself.

Virgil most of the time just pokes around his food or spends an hour trying to organize his food so he eats it just the way he wants. I don’t mind him doing this and I’m trying to keep track of what food he likes and what he doesn’t. Thankfully, it seems to be working since he’s starting to eat faster and faster every day. 

Logan is always asking about what is in the food and calculating if it’s healthy enough for him. Anytime he sees anything he counts as unhealthy, he’ll freak out or get nauseous. He is also constantly doing extreme diets. I’ve been trying to explain to him that certain foods aren’t as bad as he thinks but he doesn’t really listen. For now, I’m just trying to make sure he gets the nutrients he needs. 

Paiton, Roman, and Remus are obviously still not sleeping that well. This week I gave Roman and Remus some medication for their Insomnia and it seems to be working so far. Remy is constantly falling asleep everywhere but he refuses to take the medication I got him. 

I still haven’t accessed Janus but I will try to soon. As well as Virgil too.

Progress has been slow with all of them but hey, progress is progress. They’re improving and that makes me so happy. I hope this continues and that I’m able to stop them from fighting so often. Hopefully one day, they’ll all be at least okay with each other. I just have to continue seeing how things go.

[f00pyf00p]

Beyond The Darkness Lies Light

Fandom: Sanders Sides  Characters: Logan, Virgil, Janus  Rating: Mature  Relationships: Romantic Analogical Warnings: Violence, Implied Rape, Abusive Relationships, Flashbacks, Nightmares, PTSD, Unsympathetic Deceit, Crying, Angst and Hurt/Comfort Word count: 2270 Summary: Logan awoke in a puddle of his own sweat. It was dark- dark enough that he couldn’t tell if that shadow on the wall was Janus or just- He flicked the light switch next to him. The room was empty. Other Notes: Analogical Week Day 3: Nightmares/Dreams @analogicalweek

Read on AO3

Logan had already been tense when Janus turned to him. His boyfriend’s eyes were narrowed, breathing harsh, and when he reached for Logan’s wrist, Logan couldn’t help but to flinch away.

That didn’t stop Janus’ hand from closing around it and slamming it up against his bedroom wall.

“Where were you?”

His voice was practically a growl and as he said it he boxed Logan into the corner, so there was nowhere to run, nowhere to go but to him. Logan looked at the floor but Janus’s other hand grabbed the sides of his face and forced him to meet his eyes.

“I asked you a question, you complete dunce. Where. Were. You.”

“I- I was-”

“You- you were,” Janus mocked. His hand tightened around Logan’s wrist and the other one dropped his head to fully slam him in the stomach.

Logan doubled over, the only thing keeping him up that firm, impossible grip.

“I was at my mom’s.” Logan’s voice was practically a whisper and edged with pain. “I promise, I wasn’t-”

“Do you remember the rules?”

“Our dog had just died, she said she needed-”

Another punch, this one to the face. “Do you remember the rules, Bonehead?”

Logan whimpered. “Yeah. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-”

Janus’s hand hauled him back to his feet. Logan kept his gaze on the wood beams of the floor, falling silent as Janus’s hand grazed the bruise he had just planted on him.

“You.” A slap to the face. “Don’t.” Another in the same spot. “Go.” A knee to his groin. Logan nearly slipped down the wall, but Janus kept him standing. “Anywhere.” He backhanded him on the other cheek. “Without me.”

Logan was quick to nod.

“Get on the bed.”

“Please-”

“Get on the bed, Logan.”

The hand fell off his wrist, exposing layers of dark purple handprints. Janus didn’t need to tell him again as Logan took a step forward, towards their shared bed, towards-

Logan awoke in a puddle of his own sweat. It was dark- dark enough that he couldn’t tell if that shadow on the wall was Janus or just-

He flicked the light switch next to him.

The room was empty.

Obviously, you complete idiot.

He winced at the voice- the voice that was definitely not his- and dropped back onto the sheets. Breath came unsteadily, fiercely, and tears pricked at the edges of Logan’s eyes. Before he could get a proper grip on himself, a loud sob poured out of him which was enough to trigger the avalanche that came after.

Gods, he was pathetic. It was a dream. It was just a dream. He had escaped Janus years ago. He was safe, he had moved, and there was no way for Janus to ever get to him again.

He was fine.

Fine.

Another sob ripped out of him. Logan rolled to the other half of his bed, leaving a trail of sweat as he did so, and curled into a ball under the covers.

He was fine.

He was home.

He was safe.

But no matter how many times Logan repeated it, he couldn’t quite make himself believe it.

Logan’s hand swept out towards his bedside table- maybe for his glasses, to turn on another light, he couldn’t quite be sure, but either way, what his hand fell on was his fully charged cell phone.

He knew what he wanted before he had fully comprehended it. His thumb pressed against the home button, fingers rapidly working to find the phone app, until he finally opened to the recent calls section and clicked the very first name on the list.

He pressed it up to his ear.

It rang once.

Twice.

He probably wasn’t even awake, Logan told himself. It was- he glanced at the alarm clock- 2:21 in the morning. There was no need for Virgil to be awake, and frankly, it would actually be troubling if he did pick up the phone.

At least, that’s what Logan was telling himself.

“What’s up?” The voice was slightly crackly, rough and Logan found that the very sound of it forced another sob out of his throat.

That definitely put the voice on alert. “L? L, you okay? What’s wrong?”

“I-I’m fine.” Logan choked on his own words. “Hi, Vir-Virgil.”

“Hello yourself. What’s going on?”

“I…” Another sob tore through him. “I’m not actually sure why-why I called.”

“That’s okay.” There was a ruffling on the other side of the phone, followed by a loud zipper. “Do you want to talk?”

Did he? Not really. Re-visiting the dream right now felt like rubbing salt into an old wound, one that had yet to close. One Logan wasn’t sure he would ever be able to fully close.

So why had he called? What had his body known he needed before his brain could fully catch up with his instincts?

“I-” Logan swallowed. “I want you.”

“Okay.” Thumping noises. Virgil must be walking around. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Logan wiped his eyes with his arm. “It’s stupid.”

“I don’t think you’re capable of that, Logan.” Virgil was interrupted by… was that an engine? “And if you’re upset, I want to listen.”

Logan’s heart lurched forward and a fresh wave of tears completely undid all the work he had done in cleaning himself up. There was a quiet noise from outside his window and Logan instantly curled closer around himself, mewling softly.

“L.” Virgil’s voice was unbearably soft. “L, I’m coming to your apartment. I’ll be there in five minutes. Okay?”

Normally, Logan would protest. He should protest now; it had just been a nightmare and nightmares were nothing, nightmares didn’t matter-

A car roared down by his window and Logan whimpered.

“Yes, please.”

“I’ll stay on the phone with you while I’m getting there.”

“Yes, please.”

“L, do you want to talk about what happened?”

It was almost the same question as earlier, but it was so unbearably soft, so unbearably understanding that Logan found the easy “no” from earlier wasn’t one he could summon. He closed his tears and huddled closer to his phone as if Virgil himself could appear through the screen.

“I experienced a dream. About… him.”

Virgil's silence was deafening and Logan almost apologized, for calling him, for waking him, especially over something as stupid as a nightmare, when finally his boyfriend spoke.

“I’m going to kill him.” Virgil let out a breath. “Not helpful. Sorry. Um. You’re not dumb, Logan. I can’t imagine… What you’re feeling right now is valid. Okay? Everything that’s happening right now is valid.”

“He’s not even here.” Logan's voice cracked on the last word.

“The memory of what he did to you is, L. Especially after something as triggering as a nightmare. Okay? It’s okay.” There was a pause and then Virgil spoke again, much more muffled and clearly not to Logan. “Turn left here please. Thank you.”

Logan sank back into the cushions, staying curled in the tight ball from earlier.

“My car is about to pull on your street, L.” Virgil’s voice was as patient as ever. “I’ll be there soon. I’m going to hang up for right now, okay?”

Logan gave a quiet murmur in response. He wiped his tears away a third time, and this time, they didn’t replenish and undo all his hard work.

There was a knock on his front door and then a creak as it opened. And even though he knew it was Virgil, even though he knew it wasn’t him, Logan's heart stopped and his entire body froze.

“Logan?”

The voice helped. The knock on his bedroom door did as well simply because Janus had never bothered.

“Logan? Can I come in?”

Logan swallowed. “Y-yeah.”

“Can I turn on the light? More than just your bedside lamp I mean.”

Yes, please, thank you thank you thank you-

“Yeah.”

He blinked blearily against the sudden shine from above, choosing to curl away from it rather than towards it. There was a sudden sinking in the bed behind him and Logan refroze immediately.

“Logan, can I touch you?” The voice cracked in the middle of the sentence but came much stronger at the end. A kind of firmness that came to it only when someone was desperately trying not to fall apart.

He didn’t want to upset Virgil.

“I don’t think so,” he whispered. “At the moment, I believe it’ll resend me into a state of panic.”

“Okay. Do you want to talk about your nightmare?”

Logan didn’t. But he had finally managed to stop crying, and his therapist had told him that talking was helpful. So he opened his mouth and launched into it, leaving out only the things that he still couldn’t handle passing his lips. And by the end of it, it was like a weight had been lifted off of his chest, especially as Virgil muttered darkly;

“I’ll cut his fucking hands off.” He twitched, which Logan only was sure occurred because the entire bed moved with him. “Sorry. Still not helpful. You know everything you feel right now is normal, right Logan? Revisiting a memory like that…” Virgil swallowed. “You’re very brave.”

Logan wiped his eyes again and slowly unfurled from his ball and flipped over to meet the watery eyes of his boyfriend. Virgil smiled sadly, and his hands twitched towards him before they were firmly placed in his lap.

Logan cleared his throat. “Above the waist is fine. And not… not my face.”

A very very dark look crossed Virgil’s face but it was banished just as quickly. Logan closed his eyes as a hand gently landed on his shoulder and smoothed light circles into his sweat nightshirt. The motion helped steady him, and Logan matched his breaths to the rhythm, slowly evening everything out.

He moved and the hand froze in place. Logan slowly drew himself up and collapsed onto Virgil’s side, ducking his head onto Virgil’s chest and curling two arms around his middle.

Slowly, uncertainly, Virgil wrapped an arm around Logan. He was very careful to keep his touch to his chest, one arm curling to hold him around his back and the other gently falling beside it.

“Sorry I woke you up,” Logan whispered.

“Oh, shut up.” Virgil’s tone was as light as he could make it with the rumble of empathy behind it. “I always want to be woken up for this, L.”

Logan’s arm tightened around Virgil and he buried his face into Virgil’s chest.

He didn’t know how long they lay there. How long he concentrated on evening out his breathing, how long he worked to stifle the memories that kept threatening to overflow him, but he knew eventually his concentration lay not with Janus- not fully at least- but rather with the slickness covering him.

Slowly, Logan pushed from Virgil’s chest so he was sitting up on his bed. With one arm, he dried off what was left on his face and reached for his glasses on the nightstand.

Virgil watched him with cautious, adoring eyes. Just the look of him helped Logan to breathe.

“I’m…” Logan shoved the glasses up his nose. “I believe the next best step would be for me to take a shower. I’m currently a mess.”

“You’re beautiful,” Virgil said sincerely. Logan fixated him with a look and a bit of a smile appeared on Virgil’s face. “I mean, you look a bit ruffled, but I still find you adorable.”

Logan slowly leaned forward and gently pressed a kiss to Virgil’s lips. Virgil responded carefully, slowly. His hands remained by his sides and he let Logan lead them through it until Logan pulled back.

“Thank you,” Logan murmured.

Virgil swallowed noisily. “Of course. Why don’t you go take a shower, and I’ll see if I can find something in your refrigerator to eat?”

Logan nodded.

His shower was as hot as he could make it without burning his skin, and he got the feeling as he scrubbed, that he wasn’t just trying to remove the fine layer of crusted water and salt spread across his skin.

Once he was out, Logan changed into a long-sleeve shirt and a pair of long pajama pants. He glanced over at the clock and winced.

4:07 in the morning.

Tomorrow- or rather today, Logan supposed- would be quite the thing to work through.

He shuffled into his kitchen and found Virgil setting pancakes out across it. Logan blinked.

“I wasn’t aware I had ingredients for pancakes.”

“I bought you that mix where you just add water about three months ago.” Virgil raised his eyebrows. “It hadn’t been opened yet.”

Logan shrugged.

While the two of them ate, Virgil launched into a story about the animal shelter he worked at, going into unnecessary detail over a dog who had bitten a stick in a bad enough way to get it stuck in between his teeth and the work Virgil had to do to get it out.

Logan had never been more appreciative of Virgil than he was at that moment.

When they finished eating, Virgil dropped off the plates in Logan’s sink. Logan watched him with large glassy eyes and Virgil swallowed thickly, a hand reaching out for him that froze halfway there.

“Can I-”

“You can touch me.” Logan cleared his throat. “Anywhere- Anywhere is fine.”

Hands curled into his hair and Virgil gently hugged Logan’s head to his stomach. Logan wrapped both of his arms around Virgil's waist and let out a long breath.

“I love you,” Logan whispered.

The hands tightened around him. “I love you too.”