#much devious behaviour

[fangswbenefits]

Everything

Summary: You're used to staying still whenever Astarion feeds on you. This time, he wants you to feel everything.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Vampire bite. Blood drinking. Blood kink. Inappropriate use of tadpoles. Dry humping if you squint. Handjob. Innuendo. PiV. Creampie. Precum.

Word count: 3.2k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: At the time of posting this fic (Feb 11th), I was unaware of a fic by @bhaalism that had been posted on Feb 6th and that some similarities are present, even if totally unbeknownst to me. It was not consciously done, but I can understand how some people might see it differently. I've discussed the matters privately with Kita and, as such, here's the link to their fic so you can check them out and appreciate their work!

I also want to emphasise that no negative behaviour should come of this (in either direction) as we've both discussed matters privately, and no one else has to get involved!

You've done this so many times before that it feels as natural as second nature.

It feels right.

If the multiple scrolls of Lesser Restoration are anything to go by, this is meant to be a prolonged feeding session.

You don't mind.

And by the looks of it, neither does Astarion as he pulls you by the waist to sit more comfortably on his lap.

He has this ritual of sorts with you. It would be so easy to tilt your head to the side, exposing your neck to his bite and let him feed comfortably, but he takes his time.

And you know it's only a matter of time before you start feeling it.

“You can just feed, you know?” you purr, pressing your forehead against his.

As expected, he huffs in feigned annoyance.

“Gods, are you about to lecture me with the ‘don't play with your food’ nonsense, darling?” he bites out dramatically, but you do know he enjoys a good tease.

“Maybe I should,” you say, swirling the soft curls at the nape of his neck around your finger. “You need to feed, after all.”

A devious smile curves his lips and you pull back to slip from his lap.

But he immediately halts you halfway with a firm grip on your waist, fingertips digging into your skin and holding you in place.

Oh?

This is new.

And that's when you first feel it twitch for the first time.

It's no surprise that Astarion gets easily hard with you and for you. In fact, it doesn't take much effort at all. It's as if his body is set to react to yours in unfathomable ways. 

But when you press down softly against him, and the motion earns a groan from him and yet another twitch from his cock, you know this is different.

Usually, he feeds on you as you lay flat on your bed, making use of the comfort a mattress can provide as he drinks your blood.

It is easy and quick and enough.

But tonight, it seems that Astarion has other plans and his lustful gaze paired with his hardening cock are proof enough.

He is evidently hungry for more than just your blood.

“As much as I adore you under me,” he begins, gaze dropping to your shirt, “I think I'd rather have you on top of me this time.”

Your hands come to grip his shoulders for balance, and your eyes widen slightly. “Why?”

A gentle tug at the laces of your nightdress nearly breaks your concentration, but you somehow manage to keep your composure as his crimson eyes find yours.

“Why not? Why shouldn't this delicacy be shared?” he asked with another tug and you felt the fabric  at your chest begin to loosen. “You should enjoy it, too, darling. And I want you to feel everything.”

He emphasises his words with a final pull that brings your nightdress fully apart, unravelling your breasts to his hungry gaze. They heave in unison with your quickened breathing and it's enough to transfix him.

You can't necessarily feel it, but you are certain his cock just got harder just as blood rushes downwards, swelling your clit.

The shift in temperature causes your nipples to slowly harden and that is what makes him groan.

“Enjoying the view?”

He nods. “You can feel how much I do.”

You feigned ignorance. “I don't think I can.”

The grip on your waist tightens and he pulls you against his cock, the flimsy fabric of your undergarments allowing your clit to drag along his covered length.

Hard and needy.

“You were saying…?”

Smug and cheeky and infuriating.

Three adjectives that fall short to fully grasp how he is with you when it comes to intimacy, but it's a good place to start.

He's good and he knows it and he wants you to validate him every step of the way.

“Connect your tadpole with mine,” he says unexpectedly.

“What? Why?”

“You know why.”

You do and it baffles you that he even suggested it in the first place. Connecting tadpoles intimately  is reserved for when privacy is a guarantee. And being inside one of the many rooms at the Elfsong Tavern offers everything but privacy.

“We're at a tavern, Astarion…”

He quirks an eyebrow, bucking his hips upwards ever so slightly. “Yes, I'm aware. Your point being…?”

“We'll be heard.”

“Do you not intend on being loud?”

Your mouth falls agape at the nerve. Silence is never an option with him. He takes pride in how he makes you feel, knowing fully well he's ruined you for anyone else.

“Would you have it any other way?” 

His cock twitches in response, but it's the way his half-hooded eyes roam deliciously slow across your face that makes you clench.

“And miss the opportunity to inconvenience our next-door neighbours?” he tuts with a smirk that bares his fangs. “I don't think so.”

In the midst of all the lust-heavy words and slow hip rolls, you manage out a chuckle.

“You're vicious. Shadowheart and Lae'zel will definitely not appreciate the midnight ruckus.”

He bucks his hips so that your face gets close enough for your lips to brush.

“And what exactly are they going to do, hmm?” he says with a smirk. “Kill me?”

Before you can answer, he leans in and captures your bottom lip in between his teeth. The suddenness of it all, makes you flinch back and when a fang grazes the frail skin, it draws blood.

It stings enough for you to curse, and you see his hungry gaze admiring the droplet that pools on your lip.

“They could do much worse to you,” you tease with a giggle, proving your point by denying him the taste of your blood when he leans in again.

He lets out a low rumble of disapproval as he slumps against the headboard. “If by ‘worse’ you mean ‘whispering healing prays and hurling nonsensical curse words’, then I agree. A torment,” he feigned pain dramatically.

There is something oddly satisfying about teasing Astarion to the brink of frustration.

You almost feel inclined to satisfy his bloodlust, but decide against it, wiping the droplet with a swipe of your tongue.

That immediately earns a deep frown from him and an obnoxious click of his tongue. “Honestly, what a waste.”

“Then be nice,” you say, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

Astarion's hips buck and you're sure your undergarments are soaked enough for the wetness to seep through the fabric of his trousers. If he feels it, he doesn't say. 

When you pull away, there's a faint stain of blood on his lower lip, which he pulls in between his teeth to suckle on it gently.

The sight is enough to have you roll your hips twice.

Suddenly, he looks uncharacteristically serious. “Connect your tadpole with mine.”

There is urgency in his voice and you can only assume he is past warming up and ready to move on to the next step. 

And you're not one to deny the offer of a good time if there is a promise that him feeding on you can be pleasurable to you as well.

You allow your mind to stir the dorment tadpole, urging it to find his.

It is rather simple and you've done it before with him during your sexual endeavours. But this is different. It already feels different. It's as if the worm knows this connection bears other purposes.

Astarion lets out a groan when his body meets yours through his mind.

The tug inside your head is enough to draw a breathy gasp as you are made aware of his intentions.

He wants your hand.

Your… hand?

Your eyebrows furrow together in confusion, but not for long enough as his hand pulls yours from his shoulder.

And what he does next makes you clench so hard, you feel a gush of wetness drip from you.

“I want you to feel it – everything – as I feast on your blood,” he purrs, placing your hand around his throat.

Oh.

The tadpole squirms in anticipation as you feel his cock throbbing in your mind and against your clothed clit.

His skin is cool to the touch but it quickly heats up under your palm and, with his other hand, he undoes the laces of his trousers with unmatched dexterity.

You gasp as his thoughts bleed into you, allowing you to know what he expects next.

This time, he doesn't need to utter aloud his intentions.

You can hear him inside your head and you find yourself utterly unable to look away from his piercing eyes.

Take it out and grip it, darling.

Your hips buck, driven by pure instinct as you comply with his request. A shaky hand reaching down and tugging at the fabric of his own undergarments, and in one swift motion, you free his cock.

As expected, he immediately welcomes your grip with a thrust, and you feel just how hard and wet he already is.

His cock is still cool to the touch, but you know that is about to change soon enough.

With a gentle squeeze, his eyes flutter shut, head tilting back slightly as he adjusts to your touch.

It doesn't take long for a thick bead of precum to roll down his length before reaching your knuckles.

Inside your head, your tadpole shudders and you're sure it's because he wants to feel how swollen your clit is for him.

It pulsates rhythmically and Astarion growls with a smirk.

He adores feeling your clit.

Just as you adore feeling how stiff his cock can get in your hand and in your mind.

“You're already quite hard already,” you say, doing a laughable poor job at keeping your voice steady.

“I can get harder,” he says and you feel his voice rumbling against your palm.

You clench in sheer reflex. Mostly because you know he can and will.

Instinctively, you let out a soft moan from the delicious friction. 

And it's enough to have Astarion's ego soar high enough that it pulls the most devilishly alluring smirk from his lips.

After all, he never misses the chance to remind you that it is your blood that makes his cock thicker and warmer and harder.

Astarion finally opens his eyes again and brings his hand to your face, fingers tracing your jawline before he tips your head to the side, exposing your neck to him.

Hold on tight, darling.

He cranes his head and he plants a fleeting kiss below your ear, as he grazes his cool lips along the length of your neck. By now, he knows your pulse points by heart, so when he finds one, his fangs break skin and sink into your inviting flesh.

Out of reflex, you grip his cock tighter and he lets out a muffled groan.

No matter how many times you allow him to feed on you, the initial uncomfortable feeling is always there and it lingers until his lips wrap around the bleeding wounds.

And when he begins to suckle hungrily, downing mouthfuls of your blood, you nearly moan from the way you can feel it under your palm.

Your tadpole allows you to be aware of your blood rushing and coursing through his body at a steady pace and when it finally reaches his lower half, a faint pulse stirs his cock.

Immediately, you clench, frustrated that it's around nothing, but you quickly brush the disappointment aside as you finally understand why he wanted your hands around him.

He swallows your blood at a rhythm that matches the throb in his cock, and inside your head you can feel it beat in unison with the one in your clit.

It's your blood that brings him alive in more ways than one.

Warmth spreads across your palm and fingers and the veins that snake around his length begin to bulge as your blood fills them.

Tighter… tighter… tighter.

He repeats it like a prayer that he hopes you can answer.

He's so lost in you that his senses blur and he becomes one with you.

You try your best to comply, the back of your hand soaked with precum, as he hardens even more.

In between your legs, your clit swells up as if in response and you're so wet you're sure he'd be able to slide his cock inside with little to no effort.

How is it possible? How…

The connection allows him to hear your thoughts and he groans in response, rolling his hips at a clumsy and broken pace.

Astarion's concentration is hanging on by a thread. You can hear him curse in sheer frustration as he tries to hold on to some semblance of control.

But he gets too drunk in your blood and he is unable to keep his focus.

It doesn't help that your own arousal is spilling into his mind and mixing with his own.

A double-edged sword.

He wanted you to feel him as he feeds on you, and now he's stuck having to withstand double the arousal and the pleasure that your blood provides.

The first loud growl comes from him and you feel your grip around his cock loosen as he thickens.

Your walls flutter and he feels it, bringing one hand down to close around yours, ensuring you grip him firmly once again.

You keep clenching like that and I…

His next words aren' heard in your head and you feel your body begin the inevitable battle between overwhelming pleasure and the numbness that always comes whenever he feeds.

A faint growl slips past your lips and it quickly morphs into a strangled cry that echoes around the room.

You want to call out his name and warn him… warn him that your body can't take much more bloodloss and arousal.

But the tug inside your mind lets you know that he knows.

After all, your body is his now.

Just as his is yours.

He fucks your hand slowly with his atop yours, keeping the pace. The lump in his throat bobs rhythmically with each gulp.

Astarion… it's too much…

It takes him a couple of more seconds, two more mouthfuls and at least five more thrusts of his cock for him to finally unlatch from your neck with a guttural growl.

He drags his warm tongue across the puncture wounds, not wasting the rivulets of blood that dribble  down.

The wet sound is nearly intoxicating and you nearly jump in his lap as his other hand finds your breast, fingers tugging at your hardened nipple.

Astarion is close and, by extension, so are you.

Your blood rushes throughout his entire body and you now understand how good it feels. How good you feel inside him. He's warm and flushed from feeding on you and his head tilts back against the headboard as loses himself in you.

Somehow, he's able to keep a steady pace as he fucks your hand, the most beautiful moans spilling from his mouth as he does so.

You caress his neck lovingly as he tugs on your nipple.

“Darling…”

It's a plea.

Under different circumstances, you'd have to ask him what he wanted. But you're inside his head and you know why he's begging you.

He doesn't want his cum to go to waste.

He doesn't think the tightness and warmth and wetness your hand and fingers can provide.

I need to be inside you.

The alarm in his voice stuns you momentarily and your eyes widen as a very urgent tug

He's about to come.

You let go of his cock and his hands are suddenly in between your legs.

Your body reacts to this instantly and your walls tighten in anticipation, eager to squeeze something else.

Stop. Clenching.

A loud moan is all you give him in return as your vision blurs from how his cock pulses and throbs and leaks precum.

Another clench.

“Gods above… I can't take it anymore.”

And neither can you.

You hear the sound of fabric being torn filling your ears and his hands claw at your waist to position himself at your entrance.

A languid snap of his hips and he sinks into you, stretching you in a way that has you slumping against his chest, hardened nipples grazing his skin as he bottoms out.

He's so thick from your blood that you're sure you'll be sore from it, but none of that matters now.

All that matters is that you're stuffed to the brim, his balls pressing against you and the best part is that you can feel how he feels.

You're not sure whose climax hits first as you're so entwined with him.

You reckon it's his as you feel his balls tighten and cum coarse through his length, spilling into you with hurried thrusts.

It feels too good to be true.

You can feel just how tight you are around him and you can feel each gush of cum leaving his bodu

He whines. “I… it feels – Gods…” 

Astarion is a babbling mess under you and his words soon lose meaning as they become incomprehensible.

The sound of skin slapping against skin mixed with the creamy sounds of you milking his cock is enough to send you into overdrive.

The uncontrollable  contractions hit you like a tidal wave and both you and Astarion groan in unison as you both get thrust into each other's climaxes.

Your head is buried in the crook of his neck and you vaguely think in the haze of your peak that you should use a scroll of Lesser Restoration. You're still bleeding from the wounds and the fear that you might faint looms on the horizon.

But pleasure overcomes numbness and you welcome it with no resistance.

Still, as Astarion gets warmer and warmer, you begin to fade to the coldness.

Your tadpole is writhing with his and you feel him push you from him so that he can latch his lips against your bleeding wounds, careful to keep his fangs to himself.

He suckles gently as you descend from your shared climax and it's as if the action could lull him into a trance.

Blindly, you try to feel for a scroll that is somewhere scattered across the bed.

He's still buried deep inside you when the connection is severed, showing no signs of slipping out.

You find what you're looking for and utter the right words to activate the scroll, battling against your laboured breaths.

Vigour blooms inside you almost instantly and you feel warmth spread throughout your body with each pump of your heart.

The wounds close and he has no choice but to unlatch one final time, lips dripping with blood.

“I think I understand now… why you wanted to try this…” you breathe out, collapsing against him again. 

The sudden motion causes a few droplets of cum to drip from you.

His hand is splattered across your back, fingers caressing your flushed skin. “Why are you so surprised? You should know by now that I always deliver what I promise.”

You think it's impossible to love him even more, but the way he holds you surely tests your resolve.

“This was really good… really, really good,” you say.

“Keep on praising me like that, and we'll have to go for a second round.”

Two loud bangs on the wall are heard accompanied by a “Tsk'va!” and you chuckle.

“Well, do you think our neighbours enjoyed the show, darling?”

You doubt it, but this isn't about anyone but you and him.

Masterlist

[kyunzin]

𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞

character; 𝐆. 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮, 𝐆. 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮, 𝐅. 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐒. 𝐑𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧

cw; picking up the phone while they’re fucking you (f!reader)

tags; slight voyerism/missionary position/ teasing (gojo), teasing/ doggy style/ degradation (geto), vouyerism/ degradation/ praise/ chokehold/ back shots (toji),sex tape/ voyerism/degradation/ objectification / missionary (sukuna), [yuuji makes an appearance at the end] (f!reader)

a/n; I haven’t posted in a while, if you requested it is in the making I promise, by the way if the spelling/grammar is bad it’s cause i’m writing this at 1 am my brain ain’t function properly rn

𝐆. 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

✰ would tease you, pick up the phone and tell the person that picked up that you’re busy while still fucking you.

“why don’t you answer it baby, it might be important?”

he smirks down at you as he watches you glare at him even though your moaning, letting out a weak “fuck you” at his childish antics.

“c’mon, all you have time do is see what they want it can be that hard”

his pace doesn’t let up and you watch in horror as he picks up the phone to answer with a devious smirk on his face. he knows you didn’t actually expect him to pick up the phone.

“this is gojo speaking, ah nanamin it’s you. sorry shes busy but I can help you”

your quick to slap your hand over you mouth and gojo feels the way you clench around him and he watches in amusement as you try to contain your noise though he’s sure the sound of his hips slapping against yours are making it through the speaker.

“yeah, I’ll be sure to pass on the message don’t worry”

once the call ends he throws the phone to the side and continues fucking you however the smirk never leaves his face. you’re sure to call nanami back and apologise for gojo’s behaviour.

𝐆. 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮

✰ he would tease yout at first baiting you but he wouldn’t actually pick up.

“what would they think if they heard the pathetic sounds you’re making baby, you wanna find out?”

he watches as you shake your head and whine at his suggestion from below him but he feels the way your cunt tightens around him at the idea.

“you sure baby, then why did your pussy squeeze so tight when I mentioned it, clearly you want them to hear how much of a cock hungry slut you are don’t you”

it’s the first time something like this has happened so you’re not sure if he’s actually going to pick up or not, you’re oulse raising in anticipation.

“you think I don’t feel the way your sucking me in even tighter, someone would think that you actually enjoy the idea of someone hearing you, is that what you want?”

“no sug, please” you don’t know if your pleas will work as the way his hands grip onto your waist tighter say otherwise as well as the way he starts to reach for the phone ahead your pulse increasing. you believe he’s going to follow through with the suggestion until he picks yo the phone to decline the call and you sigh in relief.

“don’t worry princess, I’m the only one that gets to hear your slutty moans”

𝐅. 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢

✰ would pick up straight away and make you speak to the person on the phone as he fucks you.

“tell them you’re busy, make it quick”

your not ready by the time he puts the phone up to your ear and you don’t even recognise the voice speaking to you not that you have half the brain right now as toji fucked the sense out of you but you have to comply with his wishes as you dont want to be punished even though you know hes only doing it to humiliate you.

“make sure you speak properly otherwise they won’t be able to understand you baby”

it’s hard for you to speak as he has you held up by your throat so your words come out choppy in between your moans and theres no doubt that the person on the phone can tell whats going on. “ye -fuck! hello s-sorry about that. shit, can I um -oh fuck, can I c-call you back later?”

“taking to long princess, hurry up”

“fuck! m’ trying, please! no not you -fuck sorry. m’ b-busy right now so I’m gonna call you back- fuck!” toji doesn’t wait for you to finish your sentence sending one particularly harsh thrust just before the call ends throwing it back to it’s place.

“such a good girl doing as i asked, but now they know what a dirty slut you are, taking calls while you’re being fucked”

𝐒. 𝐑𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧

✰ puts the phone next to your pussy so that the person can hear the obscene sounds then next to your mouth to hear your moans.

“keep making ‘em pretty noises for me”

you don’t even notice when he picks up the phone but you soon realise that he is holding your phone down to where his balls slap against your ass making the wettest sound and you know that he’s recording a video as he usual does when the two of you fuck, he says he saved it for when he can’t fuck you l.

“hear that it’s the sound of quality pussy, she’s sucking me in so tightly. bet you wish you were me huh?”

you don’t even have half a mind to question what he’s doing right now as even though he’s occupied with the phone he’s still fucking you brutally shaking the bed with the force of his thrusts eliciting loud and long moans from you.

“my pretty little whore can take my dick so well, she even makes the prettiest noises for me wanna hear?”

you’re not sure how long he records the sounds your pussy makes but the next thing you know is that the phone is placed next to your ear for it to hear the profanities leave your mouth one after the other a proud smirk on his face as you do “ryo please- oh fuck, feels s-so fuckin good”

“my cunt takes cock so well, pretty sure it’s all she’s good for. just to be used as my fleshlight”

you soon later come to learn that it was yuuji the video was for yuuji after hearing your moans he may or may have not fisted his cock all night in jealousy wishing it were him fucking you instead.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐉𝐔𝐉𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐍

@tyunixia @riowmie

[kupidachillea]

I really liked you're yanderr Olympians x Reader :3 is it okay to ask for some hcs on yan! Hermes and reader? Only if its okay either you!!

Yandere Hermes x Reader Hcs! (Or imagines)

Author note: This will be kind of connected to the original Olympians x Reader hcs, hope you don’t mind. But also thank you for the request hope you enjoy.

TW (trigger warning): The writing ahead contains mentions of emotional manipulation, gaslighting, general yandere and toxic behaviour, manipulation, slight abuse(bondage). Please note that I don’t condone any of these things and everything here is fiction. With that said, please read at your own discretion.

✉️- You’re lonely..of course you are. How could you not be when yourself stuck on this mountain?

🪶- Most would consider it an honour, a blessing even, but you knew better. It was a curse, and there was no way to convince you otherwise.

✉️-You had tried multiple times to try and escape. Try to flee only to end up right back where you didn’t want to be. Usually this would end in you being bound in chains of gold, infused with magic or worse things that left scars to tell what happened. The gods found it amusing. Watching you struggle and act all defiant.

🪶- It was their form of entertainment. “How cute..” Poseidon would muse since your latest attempt to escape. “I don’t know why the mortal keeps trying to…they’re not going to make it off this mountain. Alive that is..” Hera would sigh. She didn’t really care much, though she would be lying to herself if she said she didn’t pity you in the slightest.

✉️- You just couldn’t take it anymore. You were sick of being up here, you’ve been in the mountain long enough to memorise where all the rooms and paths were.. it was downright ridiculous.

🪶- You didn’t care if you escaped anymore..all you wanted to do was touch the grass again..to listen to the birds in the trees and to feel the running water of the streams and rivers.

✉️- you wished that someone, anyone would hear you wishes and at least grant you 30 minutes of freedom..if you could even call it that. However fortunately (or unfortunately) for you..there was one such person that heard your cry. A certain someone that wasn’t afraid to bend the rules or stir up trouble. Whether it be for the benefit of others, himself or even to deliver a simple message.

🪶- Hermes was that god. He had been listening in to your little cries of despair and felt your home sickness from a mile away. How could he not take this opportunity given to him to care for his favourite lover? He was the god of travelling after all, among other things so he just had to step in.

✉️- And so the feathered friend (or rather fiend) approached you as somewhat of an angel of light. Opening a door for you that you had assumed was shut forever.

🪶- “Wouldn’t you like to get off of this old rock, hm~?” He would ask, a slight hum in his voice as he floated in front of you. You were sat on the marble floor, probably sulking a bit to yourself until the messenger had showed up. Without a second thought to his words you nodded. Wasting no time in taking his hand, so excited that you missed the devious little grin that had started to appear on his lips.

✉️-And that..was the beginning of what you thought would be a great companionship.

. 🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.

🪶- Over the course of those few days to a week, you and Hermes spent time away from the mountain and down on earth in the forest near mount Olympus.

✉️- And you had to admit; they were great. For once you felt like you were actually enjoying yourself. While you would enjoy the greenery and flora, Hermes would make up excuses for why you couldn’t spend time with the other Olympians.

🪶- He of course being a trickster did what he did best. Of course the others weren’t happy, especially Apollo who had demanded to see you but Hermes wouldn’t let him.

✉️- He even threatened majority of the surrounding nymphs and satyrs to not say a word about what he was doing. Obviously they listened though one particular satyr needed a little reminder on why snitches get stitches…let’s just say that Hermes acquired a new horn after that incident…

🪶- When Hermes wasn’t threatening the lowkey forest creatures he was with you. Sweet talking you..trying to get you to relax more around him. And you did to some extent. Just enough to let him touch and hold your hand..

✉️- But that wasn’t enough for Hermes. He thought he deserved more. Of course he did.. so he pushed. Being a little more greedy than he should’ve.

🪶- “Y’know..We’ve been spending a lot of time with each other and not once have you offered me a kiss..” He spoke one day while you were sitting near a stream next to him. You hummed in response, not really sure how to respond. “I guess..I’m not all too ready for that yet..” you would reply.

✉️- This caused the messenger god to furrow his brows. Lifting his helmet up a bit to get a better look at you. “And why not..?” He asked..his voice taking on a slightly aggressive tone. This would cause you to tense and shiver. “I just…can’t..I’m not ready..I-”

🪶- He didn’t let you finish, he grasped your wrist tightly and scowled. “You can’t ? After everything I’ve done for you? You can’t give me a simple kiss?” he hissed. His tone obviously took you by surprise considering how gentle he had been all this time. But you somehow started to feel..guilty? Why? Why did you feel guilty?

✉️- Hermes continued. “I saw you upset and wallowing in despair, I brought you out from the mountain to be happy. I’ve lied to my own family, my king! Just for you and this is how you repay me?!” Hermes was obviously lying again. He had no issue in lying to his family. He’s done it more times than anyone..he just wants you to feel bad..and it seemed to be working with how your eyes shrunk in fear and darted away with a hint of guilt. ‘Perfect’ he’d think to himself.

🪶- “Maybe I should’ve just left you alone. I doubt the others would’ve done what I did for you…in fact, maybe I should’ve bring you back up to the mountain and chain you down so that they can have their way with you- does that sound better, Dear ?” Hermes crooned..his voice was taunting yet threatening and your eyes widened when he threatened to leave you in the hands of the other Olympians. You frantically shook your head no, you didn’t want that..not at all.

✉️-A kiss truly wasn’t as bad as what the others would do to you. A kiss won’t hurt..right? You sheepishly took his hands in yours, your eyes pleading as you spoke. “Wait- no…please don’t do that.. I’m grateful, I truly am, Hermes. I’m sorry if I made it seem like I wasn’t..I was just..nervous..” You admitted and Hermes cooed..his eyes softening as he moved his hand to your cheek..stoking it gently with his thumb.

🪶- “Oh Darling..it’s okay, you have nothing to be nervous about..it’s just a kiss, right? You can do that for me, can’t you my little mortal?” He didn’t wait for an answer before leaning in and capturing your lips with his own. The action causing your heart to leap and your breath to catch in your throat.,you couldn’t tell if it was out of fear or excitement.

✉️-However, you eventually gave in..kissing the messenger go back which caused him to smirk against your lips. He pulled you into his body. His arms wrapping around your waist as he kissed you more passionately. A soft moan leaving the god and the wings on the sides of his head fluttering with joy. Though you’re not sure if you share such a feeling. You felt something but you weren’t sure of it.

🪶- Soon enough Hermes pulled away, allowing you to catch your breath as he chuckled and stroked your hair. He rested your head in his chest and cooed while you stared at the grass with a conflicted expression on your face.

✉️- “There, there, my sweet mortal…You have nothing to fear. I’ll always be here for you..remember that.” Hermes would utter softly and you gulped subtly..wondering if you had just made a mistake in trusting the messenger god in the first place.

Author note: Oof, I wrote this at like 3am. I’m starting to realise my ‘HCs’ aren’t really like Hcs at all, but I still hope you all enjoy. Also forgive me. That kissing scene wasn’t really the best.. I was flip flopping between descriptive or not that descriptive 😭. But anyway hope you enjoy Anon!

[strawberrymochin]

Sukuna's obsession with you would be so obnoxious that you would be regretting your life decisions.

He sees you for the first time after he's done battling (killing) some random sorcerers for fun, roaming around bloodthirsty for next target.

You were on your way back home from the late night shift from your work. That's when you noticed him. Blood dripping out from a small cut on his right cheek was what drew your attention, walking straight up to him, offering him a bandaid insisting he's hurt.

Sukuna initially planned to kill you but before he could act upon his devious intentions, you were there babbling on how he should treat his cut right away or it would result in infections and so and so.

He stilled, watching your every move skeptically.

If it were some other person, he or she would have given a damn run to Olympics for their life, though it would turn out useless as one swift motion of his finger would slice once's body similar to a piece of fruit.

You, however, seemed to have no such care. "Your tattoos are cute! Where did you get them done?"

Sukuna didn't answer. He just kept staring at you. Feeling awkward you excuse yourself, forgetting about this incident the next day.

And that's how you got yourself kidnapped the second time he sees you when you went out to run errands, humming to yourself scanning a box of strawberries.

He would try several methods to impress you. And one of those several methods includes treating you good food and that's how a freshly prepped human hand by uraume was served to you.

"do I seem like a cannibal to you?" You ask frustrated. First of all you didn't get to watch your favourite Netflix series you planned to watch after running errands that day. And now that he did kidnapped you at least he could treat you with some hospitality.

"you don't like it? humans have peculiar taste buds! You could give it a try though it's good...." Says sukuna in a monotonous voice. Uraume nods at his words.

"are you really king of curses or so? I thought that was just a mere myth—" the hand uraume served to you slit into two pieces as he gestured his finger in a certain way, making you gulp "it's not a myth I understand." Better not to agitate him much you never know when you end up like that hand on his plate. Shivers ran down your spine on this thought.

"what do you humans prefer to eat then?" He asks, dragging your plate to him, munching on one finger.

"ahh— umm...normal staple food would be enough...."

"mhmm kk"

"btw, if you don't mind can I ask you a question?"

"go ahead..."

"whose hand is that?"

"oh it's the guy you were talking to in that store."

"......"

Later that evening a box of strawberries was delivered to you by uraume, saying sukuna wanted you to have those. You thank her awkwardly.

The king of curses is kinda cute, you thought, even though not being able to shrug off the thought of the staff guy you consulted with in the store being dead because of — nvm.

You do regret your life decisions, but maybe not too much.

Though sukuna would never accept that he's heads over heels for you, uraume and others could sense the subtle change in his behaviour around you.

Considering he himself brought those strawberries for you.

A/n- sukuna in his vessel mode; I don't know what the heck I wrote...

[kawhh]

Neighbor stalker Quinn who’s in slight denial but he’s escalating cause he can’t help himself. First a ring camera so he can see you walk down the hall every morning and afternoon, then when the apartment in front of yours goes on sale he buys with without a doubt even though it’s slightly smaller than the apartment he had directly next to yours just so he can put that ring camera up and get a peak into your apartment, the day Quinn finds out you put your key on the small little ledge of the door frame and one day can’t help himself but go in while your gone peaking around and finding out you have a cat, now becoming a daily ritual to come into your place after you leave for work and giving your cat treats that he now buys on his own just to gain your cats trust, then it escalating to a small camera in your living room, nothing bad just to get to know your habits, then one in the kitchen just find out what you like to eat or cook, where he finds out you have a tendency of not wearing pants at home, then one in your room, he just couldn’t help himself no matter how hard he tried

Those are my thoughts 🙂‍↕️

The stalker!Quinn thoughts are making me so happy (and horny)

The neighbour version is even better. The fact that he's so close 24/7. Fuck me.

Warnings: stalking, the absurb price of ring camera subscriptions, quinn is a baby who's startled by a cat. Thoughts about you being attacked. A little delulu.

The ring camera to watch the door is fucking devious. He'd be trying so hard to convince himself that he's just doing it to look after you. Wanting to keep an eye on the hall and not just you. Blaming it on the potential crime even though half of the apartments are filled with pensioners.

In the years you've been there, you can count on one hand how many incidents there's been, even including smaller things like noise complaints. It's quiet and peaceful. He knows this. He's been living next to you long enough.

He just needs an excuse, a reason for his behaviour. He's not obsessive, he's just concerned. What if something happens when he's not there? He needs to know. What if a delivery package gets picked up by someone else when you're out? He's just doing it to be helpful.

He doesn't care about how small the other apartment is, it's not like he has anyone over, fully focused on you, not wanting anybody to take time away from his viewing habits.

Uh, he means he doesn't want to cause any noise trouble for you. He doesn't want you to be scared in your own apartment if there are strangers over constantly.

He's only moving the ring camera because his view of the hall was blocked often. Oh you mean he can see even less of it now? Only your door? That's his mistake. It'd take too much of his time to fix it though, so it should just stay where it is now.

He's looking in your apartment whenever he can with it because he thought he saw someone in there and wanted to make sure you were safe. He's not trying to map out your apartment. He didn't get frustrated with only being able to see you when you left and wanted more of a direct view.

He's concerned with how unconcerned you are about your keys. Sure, crime might be nonexistent here but still. He's not happy that you're basically just leaving your key there for anyone to grab. It'd be so easy to break into your apartment and attack you. So naturally, he's going to investigate.

He needs to make sure nothing's happened. You've been out for a while, what if he missed a notification? What if someone knew about the delay before the ring camera would yell at him again? He needs to check. He'll be in and out. He won't escalate. He won't touch anything or do anything wrong.

His loud yelp when he's inside makes him panic, nervous that someone will catch him. His new discovery of a fluffy creature rubbing against his leg, loudly meowing at him in protest. A new problem for him.

He doesn't know how to interact with a cat, but he's gonna have to learn. It's like an alarm bell. If he's not careful, it'll give him away. It'll go crying to its mommy about an intruder somehow. Cats like treats? Cats like treats.

He has an excuse to go over your apartment everyday now. Your cat might get lonely. It's innocent. He can't leave it to suffer alone in silence. He's 100% not just trying to silence the fluffy alarm. That's not why he's buying cat treats and cat toys, bonding with the cat whenever he can.

Now what if he can't come check on the cat daily? He needs another way of watching you. Uh, the cat. So now there's a camera in the living room, hidden on the top of one of your books on the shelf.

Thank fuck he made friends with the cat considering it's watching him set up the camera, meowing at him.

He's also noticed that you get takeout often when you come home from work and he's worried about how much you eat at home. Are you being healthy? Are you looking after yourself? Does he need to drop food off often? He needs another camera in the kitchen now. He can't be missing any information, his obsession with you rising every single day. He's finding it hard to keep up the denial act.

It's one of the biggest mistakes of his life. He's always fucking rock hard now, watching the cameras. Why the fuck did you have to be the type to stroll around half dressed. Are you doing it on purpose? Do you know he's watching? He was concerned about someone breaking in and attacking you before but now he's struggling to keep it together.

He can't risk anything now. He's had enough. He won't pretend now, won't try and deny his feelings. You're clearly putting a show on for him, it's the only logical explanation. There's no way you haven't noticed any of the cameras.

He's not even careful about the one he puts in your bedroom. Doesn't even try and hide it. It's smack bang in front of your bed, resting on your wardrobe. A perfect view for when you touch yourself at night, even more evidence that you know. The way you stare at the camera, the way you don't even try and cover yourself or it.

[rustycopper4use]

Hi! Could I request an x reader where the character and the reader both have feelings for each other / are starting dating and it turns out the reader is asexual, and does love them but isn't interested in having sex? (or maybe is even sex repulsed). I'd love to see Stolas x reader, and if you can do multiple maybe Blitzø, Alastor and Angel Dust? I know that's a lot so feel free to only do one 🥰 thanks 😊

oooooooOoo

Stolas x reader

You truly adored stolas, he’s the moon and stars to you. 

Admittedly your relationship with the prince started a bit rocky, meeting him after Blitz’s exes, disheveled and drunk you guys talked the rest of the night. Only to be interrupted by a cloaked demon.

   After that you two hit it off and started dating, it felt like something out of a hellish hallmark movie.

You never really thought of stolas in a sexual manner or any demon for that matter. It wasn’t something you ever wanted, hell, even felt. You’d flinch to more devious touches, and cringed at lustful remarks.

  Stolas wasn’t oblivious to this, he’d saw how you’d get uncomfortable of such things. He’d thought nothing of it initially, not wanted to force himself on you, scaring you off.

  But after months of the same behaviour with no change, he began to worry it was him, that you didn’t like him or even felt obligated to be around him because of his higher status.

  Of course this would eventually build up, which is how it got to this situation.

“Look I-“ he ran his hand through his feathers.

    “-if you don’t want to stay with me, I don’t want to force you to.. be with me.”

“I don’t want to leave you. What did I do to make you think I’d want to leave?” You looked at the prince.

“It feels like you don’t want me. You avoid my advances-..” he took a deep breath.

“-I just don’t want to go through this again, not with you.”

“Oh stolas honey… “ you placed your hand on his.

 “-I’m so sorry I made you felt this way, it’s just… I probably should’ve said this sooner, but I’m Asexual. This doesn’t change how I feel about you in the slightest, I love everything about you. I just.. don’t want to engage in other activities.”

  Stolas looked up at you, quickly he hugged you tightly. Your face pressed against his feathers chest.

“Oh I’m so glad! I love you so much” he chirped.

“Wait so-“ you pulled out of his chest coughing up some feathers.

“-you don’t care I’m asexual?”

“Of course I don’t, I adore you and whatever you want to be.”

He brought you closer to him leaving a peck on your cheek.

[roseykat]

TITLE: SKZ members as submissives

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSWF SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work or page whatsoever.

SUMMARY: An OT8 blurb of how each of the members are as subs.

TAGS: sub!skz members, implied dom!reader not necessarily gender specific, mentions of sex, orgasms, humiliation, edging, collars, leashes, spitting, nipple play, implied brat behaviour, praise, choking, gagging.

MASTERLIST

A/N: my next work that will be uploaded after this is Venom Eater! Also trying out a new layout for when I do OT8 blurbs…

This man is 50/50. He can be so good for you by letting you use him in the ways that you want and then be a devious, disobedient little upstart if you look away for one second. If he’s in that type of state, expect him to whine to you about what it is that he wants; ‘make me cum~’, ‘but I need you to use me,’ ‘need to get off on you, please.’

Denying him is always so fun because he gets so teary eyed and agitated. At that point, he’ll cave. He is strong, but when his needs are being compromised, Chan will see your instructions through to the end. Whether it’s to use his mouth for your own pleasure, his cock, fingers, whatever part of his body you see fit to seek an orgasm out of, he will make it happen as reparation.

A sub that can be a full on stubborn brat who won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Trying to get him to listen is like pulling teeth and it can take a lot to strip Minho back into a conforming, incoherent mess. Overstimulation usually does the trick, bc he gets what he wants at first then realises he’s bitten off too much that he can chew and finds himself running into multiple orgasms bc you keep getting him hard enough to make him cum.

You like showing him how much cum he’s dribbled out of his stiff yet sore cock just by lifting up your hand, forcing him to see your palm glisten in white. Seeing it is like a slap of humiliation to him which paints a nice deep red blush across his cheeks.

A very sensitive sub that can only handle being touched so much. Edging works so well that it’s almost always part of the bedroom routine. You try to utilise it in order to see his strong, taut body writhing, and to hear him moan out ‘please, wanna cum so bad. Can’t take it anymore.’ Just hearing him say that invites you to cuff his hands to the bedpost so that he doesn’t try touching himself when you refuse him from orgasming.

The one thing that he absolutely cannot take is watching you get yourself off. Therefore, in the instance where you do attach him to the headboard, you peel yourself right off of his body and get into a position where he can see you make yourself cum. Whether it’s by your fingers, a vibrator, a dildo, whatever it takes to make him see what he’s missing out on, is a form of torture to him.

Obedient when he wants to be, but for the most part, he will let you use him whenever you want because Hyunjin is too in love with you not to. He likes having a collar fixed around his throat with a leash attached while you get him to fuck you in positions where he may appear ‘on top’ but you still have every degree of control over him.

He’s a relatively messy sub as well but adorns it with pride. Sometimes he cries from overstimulation, drools when you gag him with your fingers, chin and nose wet from you using his face, and will leak a decent amount of precum when you edge him. All in all, he’s versatile to use especially when he wants you to.

Is a sub that requires a lot more attention than most. He is very needy and reactive to the things he allows you to do to him. However, Jisung does explore when it comes to new kinks but to him, nothing beats just getting absolutely fucked. That being said, this man is a pillow prince. You have to put in all the effort - which you don’t mind, but there comes a time where you make Jisung work for it.

If that’s the case, he gets all whiny, mopey, and annoyed because he doesn’t want to ride you - he wants you to fuck him. He gets so stubborn that sometimes he’ll prep himself, fingering his hole even though it’s not nearly as satisfying as when you’re involved. In the end, he will end up riding you, but either very lazily or angrily.

Is everyone’s darling, innocent, and placid submissive that they just want to ruin. Whatever it is that you want to try, Felix is for it. He wants to please you and make you happy. He’s a sub who needs a lot of praise and boy does he deserve it because he’ll let you fuck him, let you clamp his nipples, spit in his mouth, edge him, a combination of all if not more of these activities - you name it.

Sometimes you have to remind Felix that he doesn’t have to do the things you suggest to him, that there are alternatives also or that he just doesn’t have to do it at all. But he always, always assures you that he does. He likes to experiment with you in bed but also wants to test his own limits while achieving pleasure.

Seungmin can be a very hard sub to work with at times. He has the ability to use his words as a weapon, yet sadly, it’s a double edged sword because it does come back and bite him in the ass when you clock him for his behaviour. So if he tries to trip you up with his words when you’re in full dom mode, saying things such as, ‘are you sure about that?’ ‘What makes you think I can’t take it?’ etc, you know how to handle him - with a ball gag.

It limits his supply of verbal daggers and plea bargains that you never bother considering bc he stepped on your last nerve. Another way to get him to shut up is if you use his face. But, his reset button - something that forces him to switch up is by telling him that he’s a ‘good boy’. He gets all flustered and embarrassed but he loves hearing that type of praise from you.

Jeongin starts off as a seemingly disobedient sub, almost leaning towards being a brat, then will slot right into his place of being submissive when you ramp things up in bed. Therefore, it’s easy to snap him out of that phase by threatening that he’s not going to get what he wants - no head, you won’t fuck him or you won’t let him fuck you. When those stakes are on the line, he straightens his act out and behaves.

As a sub, Jeongin is into many things but has a particular interest for shibari. He likes the intricacy of the many different ways in which you can bind his body, the tight feeling of the rope around his muscles, and how it shapes his body well. That’s only if he’s behaved himself well.

[areyouwell]

Heliophobia

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

Ch.8

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

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!Mutant!Reader

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence

Word Count: 15.8K

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

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

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

Devious motherfucker. 

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

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

Would you still love him?

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

“She still at it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘Round three days, I think.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It ate at his mind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Morgana said you dreamt of me.”

“That’s just a coincidence…”

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

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

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

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

Then it came to him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Naji…

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

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

Was Rowan…?

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

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

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

It was uncanny. 

“How did you…?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It felt like home. 

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

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

“We’ve done this before, haven’t we?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You love him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Too many questions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not that it had helped last time.

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

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

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

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

In the fucking past. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the fuck was his problem?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Morgana.

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

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

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

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

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

Not an anchor.

A hand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You knew this. 

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

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

Because it was you. 

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

“You’ve got your orders?” 

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

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

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

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

“H-hey, what’re y–”

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

Kreva.

Even hearing his name sent ice through your veins.

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

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

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

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

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

It made you wonder which particular mission this was. 

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

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

She stiffened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You knew what happened next. 

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

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

With utter, paralysing terror. 

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

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

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

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

She was every part the demon you used to be.

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

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

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

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

Jade.

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

Not now. 

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

You didn’t want this.

You didn’t want this.

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

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

You didn’t want this.

You didn’t want this.

You didn’t want this. 

You didn’t want this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you’d left her skeleton in your wake. 

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

You’d killed the woman you loved.

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

‘He forgave you.’

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

‘We forgave you.’

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

‘You’re not alone anymore.’

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

‘I forgive you.’

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

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

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

“Hey, Shadow.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Jade… I–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What was this?

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

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

Did he really look at you like that?

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

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

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

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

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

“Logan… this is gorgeous.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hope.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You had to say goodbye. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were home.

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

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

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

“How d'ya get out of it?”

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

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

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

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

He had you back. 

You were home.

[vulpisnocturna]

Bloodstained Rubies - Chapter IV - Repercussions

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Chapters: I; II; III

Warnings: captivity, murder, violence (not towards reader), Chrollo being a menace, obsession, controlling behaviour, Yandere Chrollo, manipulation, emotional manipulation, psychological manipulation, gaslighting, suicide threats/attempt

Word count: 6k

Your preparations were complete. This was the day. The day where you would finally escape. Just before getting on the blimp, you would enter the airport, and at the gate, you would find a way to approach security and let them know you were in danger. Chrollo had already told you that you would travel alone, just the two of you, therefore, you didn’t have to worry about any of his horrid friends giving him a hand. And yes, he was a thief, and he had superpowers, but a bullet to the head always did the job, no?

You hated him more than ever. After that night you had gotten drunk two weeks before, you had woken up to find he had left a love bite on your throat. You had been seething, and had actually tried throwing things at him, which had resulted in you being tied to the bed for a full three hours, forced to listen to him monologue about everything and anything just to get a kick out of you. He asked you questions, of course. What your favourite films were, what your favourite flowers and books and artists were, and even if you did not answer, he answered for you, because he was a disgusting stalker who knew the answers already. Then, he gave his review on each of the answers, psychoanalysing you based on the things you liked.

And of course, he had not stopped kissing you. It had been wishful thinking, truly, but you’d hoped he wouldn’t press you. But no, he was even more hands-on. Like an octopus, he seemed to attach himself wherever you went. His hands may not have been sticky, but they sure felt like it. He would wrap them around your waist from behind, burying his face in the crook of your neck and keeping you still as he had his fix of kissing your neck and sucking disgusting hickies on it like he was a fifteen-year-old who had just discovered snogging.

And it should have been gross, and distasteful, and it should have made you feel dirty. And it did, but not in the right way. No, it made you feel dirty because every time he kissed your neck and told you all the things he just couldn’t wait to do to you and how good you would feel if you just let him have you, your lower stomach would feel tight and hot, and you’d find yourself aroused. And it felt so revolting to be betrayed so severely by your body.

There were few times where you had the presence of mind to thrash around and flail your limbs to hit him or get him to let you go, but by the point you put a tight leash around your mind, he had already gotten what he wanted. By the time he had kissed you and pulled you on his lap, you had already shown it took you several seconds before you bit down on his tongue or his lips. And if you did draw blood, he would smile at you, his eyes growing darker and full of lust, revealing a sadistic part of him that made you feel like it actually turned him on, and that he could barely restrain himself from retaliating in kind. His fingers would curl around your hips like a vice, and he would let out a soft groan, looking at you like you were prey.

So you had stopped biting, because you were terrified of what would happen if Chrollo Lucilfer lost control.

You hated how he played house with you. How he liked to cook for you, telling you about all the things he liked about you, forcing you to cuddle with him and acting like this was all normal. Your anger, your venomous words, your violence, none of it affected him at all. You were at least glad he never hurt you physically, but no, Chrollo was much more subtle and devious than that. No, Chrollo liked mind games. He liked bringing up the fact that he was so so saddened by the fact that your behaviour prevented him from taking you outside, from letting you see and experience the outside world. He was not expecting you to escape at all. But you would. Oh, you would that very day.

As you stood next to him in front of the door that had been the lock of your gilded cage, you felt... excited. Fearful, ridden with nerve-wracking anxiety, dreading what could go wrong, but also excited. Because you would do it. You had to believe that.

‘Now, you know the rules, darling’ he said softly, and you saw his red book appear in his hand. The lock clicked, and he picked up the suitcase, placing his hand on the small of your back and leading you outside. You walked with him to the lift, pretending to be a well-behaved dog that would follow him everywhere and never stray far away from him. You obediently got in the passenger seat, and Chrollo put on some music, seemingly in a good mood. You lowered the window to get several mouthfuls of clean air after a month of strict captivity in the house and did your best to ignore him. You didn’t even try to ask him where he was planning to take you next, and you did not want to know what job he would be involved in next.

Chrollo, on his part, did not seem particularly bothered by the fact that you were not talking, and the drive was fairly quiet. Your stomach was churning, a lump of anxiety burrowing itself in your throat, almost suffocating you. Your heart hammered like a Metallica concert in your ribcage, and you were worried he might actually hear it, because to you, it was as loud as the crack of thunder. Nevertheless, you tried to act natural and composed, fearing he would see your nervousness and be on his guard. He would notice if you were suddenly nicer to him in the hopes of relaxing him, so instead, you tried to act as dismissive and bitter as you always did.

He parked the car in the parking space of the airport, and like the pretend gentleman he liked to masquerade as, he opened the door for you and offered you his hand, which you promptly ignored. Not deterred in the slightest, he got your suitcase and walked with you towards the entrance. You swallowed, your legs weak as you glanced at him and then at the people walking around the main room. You quickly pinpointed three guards in one corner by the ticket stall and another two near the exit that led to the docking area. He grabbed two tickets from his pocket and gave you a slight smile. You shifted on your feet.

‘I need to go to the bathroom before we leave’ you said, pointing at the toilets on the other side of the room. He lifted an eyebrow.

‘You can wait until we get on the blimp’ he said. You shook your head.

‘I have to go now’ you retorted, staring him down. His dove grey eyes bored into you for a few seconds, and then he nodded. You gulped, cold sweat running down your spine as you rigidly made your way to the toilets. You could feel his eyes on the back of your head. You locked eyes with one of the guards, and brought one hand in front of your stomach, so he wouldn’t see it, quickly but deliberately showing the guard your thumb bending towards the palm of your hand and the other fingers closing over it, in a signal for help. The guard’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, and after a second, she nodded. You ran towards her and her two colleagues all of a sudden, standing behind them.

‘Shoot him! Now! He’s really dangerous’ you said, your voice cracking as Chrollo turned to look at you, his hand sliding from the handle of the suitcase, his expression growing cold.

‘Ma’am, what is the situati-‘ the female guard started to say, but before she could finish the sentence, she stopped talking with a weird grunting sound. You slowly looked over to her, confused, and your horrified eyes set on a pen sticking out of her forehead, and a trickle of blood pouring on her brow. Your voice caught in your throat, and you watched, paralysed, as the guard slumped on the ground and hit the tiles with a thud. The other guards drew their guns, and the ones behind Chrollo also came rushing over, but before you could even plead with him, they were all dead.

You shivered wildly as you saw him walk towards you with graceful, unhurried steps, though his expression was stony.

People started screaming and running, but Chrollo took out his magic book, and in a few seconds, all of them were on the floor, unmoving. Your eyes widened in horror and despair, and you quickly crouched and grabbed one of the guns on the floor, pointing it at him. He stopped walking and tilted his head.

‘I would not have had a reason to do this if you hadn’t tried to leave me, sweetheart. What’s with that look? I told you your actions have consequences. Put the gun down’ he said, his voice unwavering, calm, authoritative. You didn’t.

‘You’re a sick fuck- a sick fuck’ you said in a croaky voice, your teeth gnashing and grinding against each other to the point your jaw ached. He did not stop approaching, and did not seem particularly bothered that you were pointing a gun at his face.

With your heart and your brain filled with naive, delusional hope, you pulled the trigger.

You did not see him dodge, but the next moment, there wasn’t a hole in his face, and his head was tilted slightly, which meant that monster was fast enough to dodge bullets. You let out a choked sound of despair, your grip unsteady, your eyes brimming with tears, your breath shallow and uneven, your heart thundering in your throat. Your heart and the blood in your veins turned to ice as you realised what the only way out of this was. It was all your fault. Those people he had killed... it was all because of you. You slowly placed the gun against your temple, the cold metal of the barrel burning your skin as you stared at Chrollo. As you placed the gun to your temple, Chrollo's expression turned from calm and confident to concerned and deranged very quickly. His aura exploded around him like a cataclysm that paralysed you.

'No! No, you don’t!' he growled, his voice low but desperate.

In a single movement, he grabbed you by the wrist and pulled the gun out of your hand and away from your head. In his eyes, you saw his fear of losing you, his worry about your safety, and his reluctance to hurt you. All your hope of freedom disappeared as Chrollo threw the gun far, far away from you. Your fingers shook as your arms fell limply at your side. Primal fear of death took hold of you, and coldness seeped in the marrow of your bones.

‘Shh, shh, shh’ he murmured, dipping his head and placing a finger on your lips, instantly collected and composed again.

‘You are a very troublesome girl. My heart aches, darling. Have I not been kind towards you? I have given you everything. I give you love, affection, gifts, a nice house, nice food, expensive wine, flowers, books, films. I would take you outside, if you knew how to behave yourself. But you are one greedy girl, no? All you want is to be by yourself, all alone. Isn’t that sad? I’m not very happy now, and neither are you. See? This is a distressing situation for the both of us. Did you not think this through? Did you forget the rules I told you? That I would be forced to utilise violent methods to deal with those who would seek to take you from me? You are mine, darling. Remember that for me, yes? You do not leave me’ he said, staring at you, his face inches away from you. He wiped the tears from your cheeks, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. You trembled, frozen, rooted to the spot.

‘You can either come with me now, or I can knock you out and carry you on the blimp. Either way, you are going to be on that airship in five minutes’ he said, his voice calm and mellow. Your chest heaved, and your eyes trailed to all the corpses around you. There must have been at least fifteen. You felt the sudden urge to throw up. Your fault. It was all your fault. All these people, they were dead because of you. Why were you worth more than any of them? Why weren’t you the only corpse strewn on the white tiles? If only you’d been smarter, if only you had devised a better plan... but no, you realised all was useless in front of a monster such as he was. A monster that could kill with a pen. A monster that could dodge bullets. A monster that stood unflinching in the face of mass murder. What were you hoping would happen? You were only a normal girl. He was the stuff of nightmares.

You let him drag you towards the docking area. He took out his phone and started calling someone.

‘Shal, I need you to hack into the security cameras of Starling’s airport. Then, tell Shizuku to drive here to clean up. I ran into a little mishap’ he said, and then nodded and ended the call, grabbing the suitcase and dragging you along onto the blimp. Apparently, he had reserved all of it, so the pilot was none the wiser about the bloodbath that had ensued in the airport. He sat you down in one of the luxurious rooms, on a sofa, and poured you a glass of wine, and then one for himself.

‘Would you like to say something?’ he asked, twirling his chalice in his hand. You jerked your head “no”, your eyes fixed on the glass of the coffee table, your mind replaying the images of the corpses in the airport as the blimp took flight.

‘I hope this won’t be repeated. Otherwise, you understand I will be unable to trust you outside’ he said calmly. You gritted your teeth, your trembling hands balled up into fists as your shoulders hunched.

‘Curious how your face was not on the missing people board at the airport, don’t you think? None of the guards even stopped you. How curious. I wonder if your family submitted a missing person file to the authorities’ he mused after a few minutes, opening his bag and getting a copy of “Crime and Punishment” out, taking out a bookmark and starting to read, lounging in an armchair, his long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. You did not fall for the obvious bait, but you could not stop the horrible thoughts that clouded your mind. Had your family filed a report? Had Chrollo killed them? Threatened them?

You got up from the sofa, walking numbly towards the cabin and closing the door behind you, lying down on the bed and staring at the patterns in the wall paint.

Chrollo sighed, bitterly taking a swig of red wine, his grey eyes trailing to the closed door of the cabin where you had gone to half an hour earlier. He turned a page, feeling distracted and slightly hurt.

It was illogical, obviously, considering he had always expected you would try at least once to leave him. It was just human nature to seek freedom. But was freedom not overrated in your case after all? He had lifted you up from a life of boring routines, awful working conditions, inane friends and a family that did not care for you as well as he could. He was giving you the chance to travel, the chance for adventure; he was giving you affection, protection, respect, sharing all his possessions with you, treating you to the finest food, the best clothes and jewellery, he stole ancient tomes, invaluable artefacts, pretty necklaces and earrings, even paintings for you. He knew you at least found him physically attractive. He knew he was good-looking, and whenever he kissed you, you always struggled to be stubborn and reject him, because your body and your mind were not in agreement. He knew he was not a good person, but did you truly see him as such an abhorrent, unlovable monster? Was he such a disgusting individual in your eyes?

Chrollo traced the rim of his wine glass, his eyes clouded with disappointment and a slight twinge of sorrow. The truth was that he was lonely. His heart had been empty for so very long, and the moment he had met you, the world had burst into vivid colours. Emotions had sprang in his chest, joy and contentment warmed him whenever he held you. He felt alive for the first time in more than a decade and a half. Was it so wrong for someone like him to seek companionship and acceptance? Was his darkness truly so overwhelming that you would never see all of him and find him anything but repulsive?

Chrollo was not one to deny his own nature. He was prideful, arrogant, egotistical, manipulative and possessive. But with you, he also felt a twinge of kindness, respect, admiration, something he had never had with any of the many women he had spent time with in his life. He was filled with personality traits you might find unsavoury in a person, but he was also intelligent, loyal, protective, dependable, open-minded, and frankly, he thought himself to be a very interesting person. Surely, there were positive things about him you might like, if you actually considered giving him a chance. Contrary to popular beliefs, he was not devoid of human emotions. He felt just like everyone else, though his feelings were kept on a tight leash out of the belief that they could be used against him. “There is no greater curse than loneliness”, he thought to himself, taking another swig of wine and turning a page. His life had been anything but easy, but there had been times, especially when everything seemed at the point of collapse, when he had wished he had someone by his side, someone he could share his inner demons with, someone who would not judge and condemn. Someone who understood him, both the darkness and the light. But those people did not exist, and Chrollo did not want to share his pain with anyone. He did not want to see the pity in anyone's eyes.

One way or another, you would stay with him for life. But Chrollo didn’t want you to be unhappy either. At some point, he thought, you had to give in. At some point, you would be too tired and lonely to keep rejecting him. But it had been a month, and you were still as proud, headstrong and stubborn as you had been on the first day. Even if he hadn’t abducted you, upon finding out what his job was, you would have been repulsed, because you seemed to have the morals of a saint. He simply did not understand, though he had to admit he found himself charmed by your naiveté and innocence at times. You were like a flower blooming in the harsh snow, or through the cracks of cement, untainted by the cruel world.

He was a villain, but he was no monster or savage. He had only killed those people because he couldn’t afford to leave witnesses to your stunt at the airport. He was no rapist, he had never forced himself on you, even when his desires had boiled and set his body aflame with lust at the sight and feel of you. He had never hit you, not once. You were too precious for him to hurt. And yet, all he got from you was bitterness, fear and coldness. He believed you would come to love him someday, but he was lonely and filled with yearning. Your presence, your body, the taste of your lips, it wasn’t enough for him. He wanted your heart, your mind and your soul too. He wanted to be the only one you held dear in the world. He wanted you to feel safe with him, to love him, to understand him, accept him and foster a meaningful connection with him. Was he destined to spend the rest of his life without those things, with the meaningless farce of a relationship?

The harsh truth was that he had felt a pang of hurt and panic when he had witnessed your attempt at leaving him, your attempt at killing yourself, naive as it had been. He had been scared of losing you.

'A human heart is a fragile thing,' he mused. He put the book down and took another sip of wine, leaning back in his armchair, a sad, almost tired look on his face. You were like a puzzle, the piece that he wanted so badly to connect with the others, to finally form an image that made sense. He wanted you to be happy, to be satisfied, but he also wanted you to be his and only his, for him to own your mind and your heart. It was a difficult conundrum; but Chrollo was determined to make you fall.

He sighed, and his gaze hardened at his own wavering thoughts. If his beliefs vacillated, he would never succeed. You would come to accept him and cherish him, one day. And most importantly, the lesson he had imparted that day would make you think twice about trying to leave him again.

He closed his eyes, his mind drifting to a dream of a hopeful future. A cold night of Autumn, in a home warmed by the blazing, crackling flames in the fireplace, your body underneath him on a comfortable sofa, your skin glowing, the light dancing on your curves as he grazed his fingers over your body, tracing, gripping, kneading, caressing, your laboured breaths mingling, your lips swollen with his kisses, your eyebrows furrowed in bliss, your hair strewn around your face, your legs around his hips, his mouth against your throat, your soft sighs and moans filling the room. He imagined your arms around his torso, fingers curling on the skin of his shoulder blades, your back arching into him, your nails digging in his back as he gave you pleasure. He imagined lying down with you, spent and satisfied, stroking your hair, kissing your forehead, whispering words of devotion to you as you caught your breath and smiled at him. He imagined running you a bath, wrapping you in a blanket, making you a warm drink and sitting with you outside to watch the stars in the peaceful forest he would have bought a home in. What a perfect life, he thought longingly. A small sliver of peace in a world that had robbed him of every piece of happiness and serenity. He liked the life of freedom, adventure and danger he had with the Troupe, but in his heart, there was something Chrollo had never been able to steal: peace. What he wanted with you, what he truly wanted, was someone to come back to, someone to feel alive with, someone to protect, cherish and trust, someone who loved him, a home.

He downed his glass of wine.

His phone buzzed, and he picked it up, reading the text from Shalnark. “Cameras erased. Shizuku cleaned everything up”, it read. He wrote a quick reply and picked up his laptop, connecting it to the wi-fi and absentmindedly googling a website listing houses for sale. Perhaps, you would feel safer in one place. Perhaps, he could give you a place to call home, and a place for him to call home too. Of course, asking for your input would be like poking a rattlesnake at the moment, when you were so upset over what had happened at the airport, but he could still save some possible options. Perhaps it was a good move. Besides, he remembered your routine before you started living with him consisted of long walks in the park every weekend, so he knew for a fact you enjoyed nature. Some would think Chrollo enjoyed the city life, but the truth was that he liked peace and solitude. It would do you good to get some fresh air without him having to deal with a possible escape attempt on your part. It would be perfect to have a nice house somewhere that was quite isolated, but still not too far from civilisation, both to keep you from going to other people for “help” and for him to live in relative secrecy, away from prying eyes. He started looking for houses in natural reserves, in a place that was neither cold nor hot.

The blimp landed four hours later, and Chrollo sighed, closing his laptop and putting it back in his bag, getting up and walking to the cabin. He gently knocked on the door. No answer.

‘Dearest’ he said against the wooden door, listening in for any noise. Nothing.

‘Dearest. Would you come out, please?’ he repeated, his voice calm and purposely soothing. Once again, there was no answer. He let out a deep exhale, turning the doorknob and walking in. His face smoothed and softened as his eyes set on your sleeping form curled up on the duvet. He silently walked closer, observing the damp patch under your face, a clear sign you had cried yourself to sleep. He brushed your hair out of your face with reverence, observing the face of the woman that had thawed his heart. You looked so fragile when you slept. It made him want to protect you and hold you close. He squeezed your delicate hand slightly.

‘Darling, wake up’ he said, his voice soft but slightly louder, and you stirred, gasping, your eyes snapping open, and you scrambled away from him. He observed you quietly.

‘We have landed’ he said simply, his gaze darkening ever so slightly at your reaction, but he did not let it deter him from treating you with the utmost tenderness. Even idiots knew vulnerable times were the best moments to manipulate someone into depending on them.

‘You do not have to fear me, sweetheart. I would never hurt you, you are my precious girl’ he said with a slight smile. You grimaced, and he could practically taste your next words in the tension building in the air.

‘So I’m precious, but everyone else is trash and it doesn’t matter if they die? They’re disposable? They’re unworthy? They mean nothing? But me, I’m oh so fucking special?!’ you said in a disgusted, angry voice. Chrollo straightened up, leaning towards you and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

What an obvious question, he thought.

‘Exactly. You are my woman. You are the most important thing in the world, and your life is worth millions of theirs’ Chrollo remained calm, despite the anger that blazed in your eyes.

'Is that so difficult to believe?', he continued candidly, 'when you think about it, that's exactly what every human being thinks, myself included'

He straightened up, his face serious again, his voice still soft.

'Yes, my love, that's exactly what I think. You are the most wonderful person I have ever met, you deserve the world, and everyone else means nothing at all to me. This is how the world works. A parent will let millions die if it means they can save the life of their child. People prioritise that which is dear to them’ he said simply. At the candid, casual tone of his voice, your arms flopped at your side and your jaw slackened in defeat and resignation.

‘That doesn’t mean they had to die’ you murmured, your eyes searching for something, anything in his dove grey eyes. Something that would make him human in your eyes. But what he said... perhaps that was the most human thing of all. To be selfish, to care only about one’s own, to look only after one’s own. And yet, you didn’t even think what Chrollo had with you could ever be considered “caring”.

He took a step towards you, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible, and he sat down on the side of the bed, leaning forward.

'Look at me, darling'

Your eyes slowly followed his finger and met his gaze. Chrollo remained very still, not daring to move so as not to break the balance of the moment, and he spoke softly.

'Do you care, love? Do you care if anyone else but you dies?' he asked almost curiously, with clinical fascination. You stared at him, your lips parting in disbelief at his question.

‘Of course I do’

Chrollo raised an eyebrow, his expression intrigued as he looked at you.

'Do you?' he asked, and you stayed silent and Chrollo continued to study you, his voice still soft, ‘Do any of the people who died today mean anything to you, my love?’

Chrollo's fingers slid across the duvet over your knee and he touched your skin gently, the movement of his fingers soothing and gentle, and yet to you, it was like being burnt.

‘This is just how humans work. You only care about those who are important to you. It is how you protect yourself’ he said simply. You stared at him, shaking your head stiffly.

'Do not liken me to you. I care because they are human. I care because you took human lives. Innocent lives. Just... just to stop me from escaping. You killed- so many people... do you not think of all the potential you robbed them of? Every single one of them had a life as nuanced and complicated as you or I do. And yet... you do not care, because they are not close to you? You have no humanity' you said, torn between disbelief, guilt and rage. Chrollo was selfish, you knew, but somehow, you had hoped in the depths of his darkness, there had to be some humanity, some... compassion. But you were once again mistaken.

‘I don't care. Their lives meant nothing to me’ he paused, but kept his fingers gently stroking your skin, 'I know you do not approve, but I stand by what I did. They were in my way. And I did not want you to leave me. Can you blame me for wanting you to be mine forever and not wanting another soul to touch you? I had to kill them, to stop you from leaving me. Simply put, my lovely, you signed their demise. You were aware that by trying to escape, you were putting innocent lives in danger, but you put yourself and your happiness first. Shh, it’s okay. I could never judge you for it, it’s as it should be, my darling. But you cannot play preacher with me, and speak of morality, when you also thought of your own needs above people’s lives' he said with a small smile. You froze, a cold, bitter nausea gripping your body, paralysing you, making you its prisoner in the truth he spoke. Because you had known Chrollo was powerful, strong and dangerous. You had heard him say he would kill people to ensure you did not leave him. But you had chosen to naively ignore that fact, blinded by the delusion that everything would work out in a world where nothing ever did.

‘I never wanted- I never wanted...’ you stammered, clutching your lurching stomach.

‘You didn’t want it to happen, but you overlooked it' he whispered, keeping his voice gentle and soothing. He looked at you, his eyes taking in every inch of your face, of your skin. His fingers continued to stroke your knee, his touch soothing and tender.

'I know, darling, I know. Your mind and your heart are telling you different things. I am like a poison to you, and yet you cannot resist' Chrollo tilted his head, his eyes still on your face, 'I know your struggle is a difficult one, but I will help you overcome it. You can abandon your morality, the shackles of society, the good and proper, and you can have freedom from those useless rules that society has imposed on you. It is only human nature. Break free. Life is so much easier when you do not care for those that are not your own, sweetheart' the last words were laced with some kind of heaviness as he uttered them, as if they carried a much larger meaning than what he was willing to divulge, but you were too concerned with the breaking of your own mind, the shattering of your own heart over the guilt and repulsion you felt for yourself, the dread you felt at knowing he was right, in a way. You had chosen yourself even at the expense of many innocent lives. You were selfish, heartless and a monster.

'You are my own, my love. You're the only one worth anything in this world, and I would destroy a thousand worlds just to keep you by my side. Is that not the ultimate expression of love?' Chrollo's lips curved up in a slight smile, as if he had just imparted a sacred lesson to you, as if the words he had spoken were the wisest in the world. He had some kind of dreamy look in his big dove grey eyes, as if he truly saw himself as the romantic lead in a film. It made your stomach churn.

‘You think murder is the ultimate expression of romanticism? Have you any idea how fucked up that is? That you should be obsessed with somebody, and willing to trample on the whole world and all its worth just to get what you want? Even at the expense of the happiness of the one you are so obsessed with?’ you asked, your voice straining, struggling to pass through the heavy lump constricting your throat.

‘It is not only romanticism' he replied with a slight frown on his face, 'it is reality. People murder, steal and ruin each other's lives over and over again, all over the world, every day. This is the way of the world. I know you find it difficult to accept, my love. The truth is that most people are selfish and cruel, and if you want to live a happy life, you have to be as well’ he said simply, as if it were a dogmatic truth imparted from the heavens.

‘And so, instead of attempting to better the world, you simply decided to be the worst of them all? Why add cruelty onto cruelty? Why make the world worse?’ you continued, spreading your arms as if to illustrate your point. Chrollo sighed deeply.

'Because the cruelty of the human race cannot be changed, my love. It is part of our nature, and attempting to deny our own nature is futile. But that should be a good thing. It is who we are, and we should not want to be any other way. And those who accept their human nature, darling, those are the ones who shall be free and happy’ he said with his placid, enigmatic smile.

‘I will take everything from this world, and create freedom and happiness for those I call my own. The rest of the world could burn, and I would not care' he said simply. You stared at him, shaking your head slightly. Arguing with Chrollo on morality was utterly useless. You'd probably have more luck convincing a lion to stop eating zebras. You picked up your bag and exited the cabin, wanting nothing more than to get off that blimp and get to whatever flat Chrollo had decided you would live in next and try to forget the massacre you had caused. Forget the blood and the corpses and the smell of iron in the air.

[flowersforchoso]

Grandmaster and I.

cw: enemies to lovers(?), power imbalance, fluff if you squint, a love triangle trope if you squint harder. female reader a/n: i've had this sitting in my drafts for the longest and only now decided to post. also, english isn't my first language, so bear with me regarding any grammar errors or weird construction/phrasing. thankue

the lin kuei trio was on a mission when you attacked them. they trespassed on your turf, and you ambitiously tried to take out all three of them at once, failing unsurprisingly since you were no match for the skilled assassins.

you're easily subdued and taken captive, dispossessed of your weapons and barraged with interrogations. after discovering you don't pose much of a threat, they deliberate on what to do with you, ultimately deciding to keep you around as a maidservant of sorts.

you're subjected to demeaning labour in and around the lin kuei base, tasked with all manner of chores. you're the designated errand girl. you hate it here

a period of close monitoring has elapsed, and the grandmaster, out of the goodness of his heart, deems it fit to convert you into one of the grunts, the lowest ranked. he believes your sheer will and rudimentary fighting skills would be beneficial to the clan, no matter how small.

so you're set on the path to becoming a part of the lin kuei. once just a lowly rogue turned maid, now subject to tedious training to become a full-fledged assassin.

while you impress since you have a background in combat, you're still not up to par with the clan's standards. but there's a development: a new relationship emerges.

you and tomas have begun to be on friendly terms. it's not that surprising, considering his personality and you both being on the younger side—a connection was bound to form

casual greetings turned into sparring together, and progressed to going hunting. together

bihan notices the budding... friendship, (if he could call it that) that's supposedly going on between you two and isn't pleased by it, but turns a blind eye instead. it doesn't concern him

it isn't until he sees you both return from a hunt (engaging in tomas' pastime) while holding hands, then later in a compromising position—with you ontop of him to conclude a training session—that he decides to take matters into his hands. such salacious behaviour was prohibited on lin kuei grounds, he had enough of your impudence

you're forbidden from training with smoke, but not without a lengthy verbal lashing first. you find it unfair and voice your displeasure, which he interprets as insubordination

you're punished with running a couple of laps and close to a hundred pushups. he won't go easy on you just because you happen to be a woman, despite protests from kuai liang in the background

you detest him for alot of things, but mostly for coming between the only interaction that was keeping you sane in this hellish place. he isn't fond of you either, as he finds you rather incompetent, ill-bred, impertinent.

the time has come to take your training to the next level: missions. it's your first to properly evaluate your skills, and you're nothing short of excited, hoping to be paired with tomas

however, bihan senses your enthusiasm as rather devious and pairs you up with himself instead, shattering your hopes. and this becomes the case with subsequent missions

for a lack of better words, you're attached to his hip. you've become his personal project of sorts. he wants to forge you into a warrior you'll never be on your own merit and thinks you and tomas are distracting eachother, enforcing distance between the both of you

your training henceforth is with him only. he's always on the defensive while you attack, but it seems you can never land a hit, no matter what you do.

cue the outpouring of criticisms and scoldings, laced with threats of sending you back to scrubbing floors if you fail to improve and you fight back tears as the harsh words tumble out of his mouth effortlessly

but you refuse to allow his condescension bother you for long. instead, letting it serve as motivation to do better. you go the extra mile with training, and in due time, it yields positive results—you've tremendously improved. and finally get rewarded with the lin kuei uniform, marking your official initiation into the ranks.

during the ceremony, the grandmaster's eyes are fixed on you. once it's over and done with, he summons your presence. in private.

you know where this is going and there are no surprises when he finally opens his mouth to query you—you slightly modified the lin kuei uniform to fit your fashion sensibilities, sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the new initiates.

rather than cower in fear when his judgemental eyes peer into yours, demanding an explanation for your indiscretion, you meet his eyes in defiance, stating your reason as an aesthetic choice.

bihan is not the least bit surprised by your little rebellion, and for some reason, he lets it slide (a first for him) only dismissing you with a vague warning to know your limits, which has you fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

the days roll by... you've adjusted quite nicely to your new identity, even going as far as shedding your old appearance to blend into the predominantly male environment—you cut your hair short. unbeknownst to you, your new appearance has achieved the opposite effect: accentuated your feminine charms instead of diminish it

the grandmaster obviously notices this change, but doesn't comment on your business.

however, he doesn't understand why he's suddenly become aware of anything concerning you that he would normally not care about, such as how subtly flirty some foes become in the heat of combat with you

or tomas lingering stare on you, which you reciprocate with a longing of your own

or johnny's unwanted presence and comments upon seeing you, dubbing you lin kuei eyecandy

or is it his brother softly praising you for your quick thinking while on a mission?

even his attitude towards you has slowly shifted—he doesn't speak to you as harshly, doesn't shut down your requests for needing breaks.

not to mention, how his eyes keep wandering in your direction for reasons unknown to him. your mere presence is becoming rather bothersome when it wasn't much of an issue before.

bi-han wants to put a stop to whatever this is, and his plans to resolve his personal dilemma comes as a shock, not just to you, but to kuai liang and tomas as well

out of nowhere, you're reassigned to the administrative sphere. you'll no longer serve on active duty. because, according to him, while your skills are formidable, they're needed elsewhere. in a nutshell, you were practically being demoted

he doesn't provide more reasons for this decision despite his brothers attempts to cajole an answer from him, and citing how much of an asset you were on the battlefield.

his words were final, and there you were—not even back to square one. for you were neither seen nor heard of, just lost among a sea of cogs in a machinery

the passage of time has flown rather quickly since then, bringing attendant changes—both bad and good ones

kuai liang and tomas have charted a new course; they left the lin kuei after a series of disputes with bi-han concerning his leadership and vision

and this saddened you when the news reached your ears, especially because tomas never deemed it fit to inform you or include you in his plans. while you were forbidden from interacting with him, he could still find a way to communicate with you if he wanted to

you're hurt by this, but you know it's probably incomparable to how bi-han must've felt about having his brothers turn their backs on him.

due to your new (limited) position, you're no longer in proximity to him. infact, you barely see him outside of general morning assembly and drills.

a part of you wants to know how he's fairing regarding this unforeseen circumstance, so you decide to go to him where you know you'll no doubt find him—the meeting room, at dusk.

with a teacup in hand, you braved the door that holds the domineering figure within. knocking softly, tentatively; you hear an intimidating, "enter." inhaling sharply, you step inside

bi-han is a bit taken aback by your presence though his expression doesn't betray this. he is stoic and composed, as always

"i did not request your presence." he coldly states matter-of-factly, making you gulp. a slight tremble to your fingers as you clutch the teacup closer to your chest

"yes, you did not" you affirm. "but i thought it appropriate to see you after learning of recent events." you proceed to gently set the teacup on the table, his unblinking stare fixed on you

"i don't need your coddling or anyone else's for that matter." he sneers, clearly insulted by your gesture but you don't let it affect you as much.

"i know you don't need anyone or anything" you utter in hushed tones, speaking more to yourself than to him before continuing, "but... just accept this, please."

your appeal is met with complete silence, and without feeling like you've overstayed your welcome, you bow your head slightly. "i'll be on my way now." you announce, taking to your heels, and gliding past lin kuei members on the corridor as you head towards your station.

the tea you served bi-han remained untouched. and by morning, it was cleared from the table. however, the days after that empathetic move of yours ushered in many surprises...

it was nighttime, the sky outside pitch black, when an invitation was sent to your quarters in the form of bi-han himself, standing tall by your doorframe, towering and imposing, requesting you to accompany him on a... stroll?

you barely had time to process what was happening in the moment; fingers reaching to adjust the neckline of your robe, a movement that didn't escape his piercing gaze, before going along with him

since it was close to midnight, the base wasn't teeming with much activity, as most of the lin kuei members had already retired for the night, so your nightly engagement went mostly unnoticed as you walked alongside him. the cool night air brushing past your skin

he doesn't speak much to you, and you don't either, besides a few curt responses here and there when he asked about your duties and such.

before you knew what was happening, you were right back to your living quarters with bi-han escorting you. you bid him goodnight, to which he nodded and went about his way.

you're still in shock, in disbelief at what had occurred, and the awkwardness of it all preoccupied your mind for days on end. you desired answers to the multiple questions that circled your mind. but the answers did not come until several nightly engagements later....

following tender touches under the gleaming moonlight

[delirious-donna]

an: thanks to @hellaarknight for requesting the devious Mr Urahara for my event. He's not a character I get much chance to write for, so this was really fun! I hope you enjoy it <3

starring: Kisuke Urahara x gn reader

warnings: SFW, a lil angst, fluff, Kisuke being very hot and cold cause he's a dummy

now playing -

Kisuke Urahara was many things—cunning, brilliant... manipulative? 

He knew that it was wrong of him to taint you with his obvious flaws, but he had never claimed to be a good man. You were far too tempting. A precious gift, wrapped with a pretty bow that he was ever hungry to tear into like a child on Christmas morning. 

Could he weave his threads of silk around you until you were intricately woven into his web of mischief? He absolutely could, but would he? Should he? 

Those were constant questions that turned in his clever brain, and they were wholly unnecessary. 

You weren’t stupid. You didn’t portray the image of blind faith or devotion either. If he thought you weren’t aware of just how calculating he was, then he was the bigger idiot here.  

Kisuke had a dark past and whilst you didn’t know the intimate details, you knew enough to be able to make a reasonable decision on whether he was worth the effort.

He was.

What bothered you more was his back and forth, the push and pull. You never knew from one moment to the next if you were coming or going with him, and that was infuriating.  

“It’s for the best,” he said when you finally snapped and called out his current cold shoulder behaviour. 

You scoffed. “Sure, it is. I just love being ignored by the man who is meant to be in love with me. Uh-huh... makes me feel so bloody special!” 

His heart lurched; the words stung but the tears gathering in your eyes hurt far worse than anything you could say ever would. He caught your chin in a gentle hold, bringing your face round so your eyes sparkling with unshed tears met his. The slightly roughened pad of his thumb rubbed across the width of your bottom lip, and he exhaled as if in defeat. 

“Gonna be the death of me, darlin’. You sure you wanna walk this path with me? Can’t promise it’ll always be smooth, but if you’re willing... then there isn’t anyone I’d rather walk it with.” 

When you nodded, lips trembling as you fought not to cry, he smiled. It might not be right for him to drag you down into his world, but he would be damned if he’d hurt you more by disappearing without a trace. 

“Alright, then we gotta talk about a few things and if you haven’t changed your mind once I’m through...” Kisuke paused when you suddenly grabbed his hand, squeezing his fingers with a strength that nearly—nearly—made him wince. 

“Kisuke, ‘m not going anywhere.” 

Damn right, you weren’t. His chest puffed with pride, and he pulled you into his arms. He wouldn’t pick a partner that wasn’t able to handle him at his best and his worst, after all. 

 I'll pull you closer into me 

And I'm pushing you away 

So if you put your bets on me 

You better be down for anything 

Return to the set list

[ihatetaxes99]

Alrighty, fun theory time: What if Neito Monoma was actually brain-damaged?

I swear, this isn't a joke post, this is a genuine headcanon/theory I like to consider that possibly explains the... Sharp shift in his behaviour. Of course, it obviously isn't actually canon, I don't think anyone would believe that for a second, but it's an idea I like to ruminate upon. That said, time to elaborate:

It's no secret that when the character of Neito Monoma was introduced during the Sports Festival story arc of the Boku No Hero manga, he was rather different from his later portrayals.

Unless I'm forgetting something, this was the first proper panel introducing Monoma in the series:

As you can see, there were some... Changes later on down the line:

Anyone can tell that something happened here. Anyone who has a basic knowledge of the manga is aware that this second image is not an outlier. Monoma has been consistently portrayed as arrogant, over-the-top and borderline mentally unwell. There's clearly something wrong with this boy, this isn't just a kid being energetic.

Monoma in his initial appearance was clearly a bit underhanded, yes. He was a schemer, a trickster, almost like the heroes' version of Mr. Compress (I had to fit a reference to my G in there somehow) in how he relies on subterfuge and deception over raw strength; None of this translates to the psychopathic brat he became as early as the Training Camp arc. The question is, what happened to cause this? I mean, yeah, there are a few pretty good guesses as to why his personality was retconned out-of-universe (I've always taken an interest in the theory that his insanity was turned up to make Kendo's behaviour towards him seem more justified, somehow, and have her come off as less unlikeable, though there is also the popular theory that Bakugo's popularity had a hand in things as well, which I won't get into here), but that's boring. I am an Autist, and what I want is an in-universe explanation to use as my personal headcanon.

And so, we come to this delightful little panel:

Acquired Brain Injury (ABI) refers to a form of brain injury brought about by physical trauma or other damage caused sometime after birth, as opposed to genetic brain damage. As listed by the Scottish Acquired Brain Injury Network, symptoms of ABI can include:

Reduced motivation.

Reduced ability to initiate activity.

Reduced motivation.

Reduced empathy.

Emotional Lability

Reduced impulse control (i.e. reduced ability to control expression of emotions and behaviour).

Agitation.

Aggressive behaviour.

Impaired judgement.

Socially inappropriate behaviour.

Sexually disinhibited behaviour.

Reduced insight/awareness of the consequences of brain injury and its impact.

Obviously, not all of these symptoms are relevant to Monoma's case, but some - such as emotional lability, reduced impulse control, agitation, aggressive behaviour, impaired judgement and socially inappropriate behaviour - sound very familiar.

In short, it's proven that physical trauma to the head can very much influence and alter a person's personality, resulting in instability. And as we can see from the image, Bakugo very nearly blew Monoma's head off during the climax of the chariot battle. The way that his head snaps back is clearly indicative of receiving some sort of sharp blow.

And that is where the basis of my theory is formed. Neito Monoma starts out his UA career as a somewhat ambitious and devious, but intelligent and well put-together kid. Then, during the Sports Festival, he receives a severe blow to the head from Bakugo. Given the nature of UA's training regiment, it's even possible that he would sustain more injuries off-panel between the end of the Festival and his next appearance at the Training Camp, possibly even developing the situation into Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy. And that's not even considering all of the times Kendo has been seen striking him hard enough to knock him out cold. We're also well aware of how lax UA is in regards to their medical care, with a kiss from Recovery Girl and a few days' rest typically being seen as the best way to deal with incidents. In this environment, Monoma's head trauma would go on to manifest itself in more and more personality defects, transforming him over time as his intellectual capabilities were diminished and his aggressive and socially unaware behaviour grew more and more pronounced. It puts a tragic spin on what is essentially a mishandled joke character, holding the lens to UA's negligent behaviour that the manga barely touched in any real depth.

Of course, as I said, obviously none of this is the case. Monoma was rewritten to be a joke after the Sports Festival and that is the long and short of it. There isn't really anything deeper going on there, not intentionally at least. But I like to dream. And I've really grown rather fond of this little headcanon.

[starleska]

The Spot x Reader headcanons

just some ideas exploring The Spot as a character and how he may be with a significant other 👀 content warnings for bullying, harassment, possessive/yandere behaviour, and weird Eldritch portal-murder.

⚫ despite The Spot’s obvious ego, he struggles to believe you find him attractive. when you first meet he’s in something of a transformative period: volleying between being in awe at the power of his new physical form, and caving in to the abuse he’s received from friends, family and strangers for how he looks. The Spot rambles to you in a half-nervous, half-manic sort of way about the quirks of his bodies: how his spots fizz when he’s angry and feel like heartburn; how his blank-coloured skin stretches over his skeleton like too-tight rubber; how he isn’t even sure if he has a skeleton anymore. he’s convinced that you’re waiting for him to ‘turn back to normal’ - or, in the suspicious part of his mind, that you have an ulterior motive for getting close. it takes a while for The Spot to notice how blown your pupils become when he looms over you, or how your breath quickens when he says something equal parts charming and devious. but once he’s aware that you truly are captivated by him as The Spot...the power goes quite to his head 😉

⚫ The Spot is hesitant about physical contact at first, but once he knows you’re not a threat, he melts. understanding The Spot’s body was difficult at the start: one time, you tried to hold his hand, but accidentally stuck your fingers through a portal on his wrist and punched him where his nose should be. yet you soon learn to be careful, and with time, The Spot stops flinching away when you rest your palm on top of his, or gently cup his cheek. his skin has a smooth, dolphin-like quality: dry yet slippery like linoleum. you know you’re doing things right because The Spot is a vocal man: he voices his content audibly, with a pleased sigh when you nuzzle into his neck, and a gentle hum when he wraps his long arm around you and pulls you against his chest. when it finally clicks that you want him, The Spot can’t enough of you. he’s forever touching you on the arm, the waist, even the lips. it’s as if now his original form is gone, he can’t get enough of your physical humanity 🖤

⚫ becoming intimate with The Spot does your social life no favours, which makes him fiercely protective of you. it’s no wonder that the two of you found such common ground: you’ve been victim to your own share of bullying and trauma, and feel for The Spot’s plight, having had his whole life wrenched away from him without so much as a sympathetic ear. one day, you’re cornered by several locals who start berating you for being a ‘freak-lover’. they shove you to the ground and tell you to get out of town, and to take that ‘mutant’ with you. but before you can open your mouth to reply, portals open up underneath each your would-be attackers and swallows them up to the shoulders, keeping them pinioned in a kind of trans-dimensional bondage. 

The Spot pops through a hole in the sky and rushes to you, checking you for injury and asking, “Did they hurt you?” when you say no, but tell them what did transpire, you watch a ‘frown’ crease the upper half of the hole in his face. he turns away, and strolls over to his new captives, his demeanour languid and cocky. 

“Thought you could get away with this, huh?” The Spot asks. a chill thrills up your spine: his voice is two-toned, with something much darker belying his usual sweet tone. the captives are too terrified to reply. 

“Don’t bother,” he continues. “You’re just going to waste your breath. How about I do you a favour and...”

he raises one hand, and splits his index and middle fingers apart, like a pair of scissors.

“...cut things short?”

with a violent snap, The Spot snips his fingers together. the portals close in a sickening crunch, and you watch as the limp, lifeless bodies of your attackers slip through the open holes, and disappear into nothingness.  

[akutasoda]

ahh, i dont know if you’d seen yohaji but i’d like to request a luocha x reader based of karasuma ranmaru!

ranmaru is a karasu tengu who was previously a god and is the leader of the Karasu Tengu Troupe. he’s thief who's always up to no good. he’s cheeky, sly, and extremely devious, in which his goal is to earn money

i hope u have a nice day, and i enjoy all of the work you make! ♪( ´▽｀)

a merchant and a thief

synopsis - how he deals with a rather interesting companion he meets in an unfortunate way

includes - luocha

warnings - gn!reader, fluff, slight crack, wc - 485

a/n: wishing you a lovely day as well anon <3

↪as a wandering merchant, luocha was bound to traverse through multitudes of worlds, each of which was just as unique and diverse as all those that came before it - and certainly was going to be the trend among the future ones.

↪he had always met unique people, some of them were clients and some were simple faces in the crowd. nonetheless, to him, you were by far one of the most intriguing ones.

↪luocha had met you for the first time when you had decided that he would be the next victim of your robberies. he was a prime target in your eyes and you were certain that he had to of carried around quite a bit of money or at least something you could pawn off - he was a merchant after all

↪unfortunately for you, luocha wasn't going to let you get away with attempting to steal from him. albeit you're first encounter wasn't exactly the friendliest, but somehow it ended up leading the two of you into quite the weird relationship.

↪perhaps it came down to the fact that luocha found something interesting about you, but whatever it was, it ended with luocha spending most of his time on your planet accompanying you.

↪to say luocha was surprised to find out that you, a previously thought petty thief, was the leader of a very important troupe on your planet, would be an understatement - especially considering how you were always up to no good despite you're laid-back attitude that indicated everything but a leader.

↪however, most people were surprised that luocha could actually deal with your sly and devious behaviour for as long as he did.

↪and in all honesty on luocha's behalf, your audacity and extremely underhand behaviour was somewhat charming. on most occasions luocha's more calm and rather rational behaviour was enough to balance out your slyness.

↪and that's how you're relationship worked - luocha spent most of his time keeping you in check and it was a complete shock to you're troupe members that you actually listened to him and stopped trying to steal from him.

↪but luocha certainly became much more intrigued around you when you eventually told him about your ex-status as a god. he'd always had an interest in some aeons and so being able to meet someone who had a similar, albeit lower, status previously was a point of awe for him.

↪if there was one thing for certain, luocha would certainly want to keep you as a lifelong companion.

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Cinnamon Crush

PAIRING: chubby!Professor!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Student!Reader

WORDS: 3,036.

SUMMARY: It seemed a contagious crush had befallen your fellow pupils of your Psych class, and you were no exception… Only, however, your Professor did not spare you from your lustful thoughts.

WARNINGS: reader is of legal age!!!, teacher x pupil dynamic (with consent), female receiving (fingering), NSFW, mentions of p in v sexual intercourse, humiliation kink, exhibitionism, praise kink.

A/N - thanks to @sugarpopss for feeding into my delusions and horny thots, we brainstormed this idea, and voila! hope you enjoy boo xox

Undertaking this human behaviour psychology class was proving to be both a tease and a taunt. Often, you were a diligent student, reserved in your ways, you never struggled with losing focus nor lacking attention, and yet, something about this class with each passing week, was provoking something devious from within you.

Your attention remained persistent and unwavering, however not on the topic at hand, though rather on your stout and round professor...

Aegon Targaryen, was one of those professors you really had not paid any mind to initially. You scarcely saw him during your first year, as he taught mostly the latter years of tertiary schooling: when his presence was not occupied in teaching tutorials and lectures, he was adamantly hidden away, reclusive to his own office or the teacher's cafeteria. Yet, passing by the corridors, you had heard many whispering gossip from previous pupils, giddily confronting each other of their little "crushes" over their chubby professor. Yet, you had never fully comprehended their words, nor what they saw in the man, till having come face to face with him.

Gradually, as the weeks went by during the semester, you had grown accustomed to his unnerving presence, grand stature, that deep, succulent voice as he monotonously spoke: the longer your keen eyes lusted over his minute details, over his physicality, the more beauty you saw in him. And despite not being that much your senior, he was still older and an authoritative figure in comparison to your colleagues.

His weight was never an issue, nor a flaw that had "turned you off" nor the others. In fact, tediously attempting to search for a textbook in the University's library, you had idly overheard a few of your colleagues gushing over the potential likelihood size of your professor's cock.

"You know what they say about the thicker men, right ladies? I bet it you girls, he'd have you rendered incapable of walking!"

"A girlfriend of mine slept with a guy much larger than herself in size, and she said it was the best sex she ever had-"

"Do you guys not see the way he rubs his belly from time to time, how adorable he looks? Or the way he has powder or icing over his lips that he tastes and licks off?-"

"Well I've made an appointment to see him after hours in his office to discuss the assignment, but I can't guarantee that's all that will happen... Did you guys not notice the way he winked at me? The way our fingers touched when he handed me back my paper?!"

Captivated by their gossip, you began to grow more attentive to your elder professor in class. Noticing the details your enthusiastic peers had picked up, each time you had captured a small indifference, you would make mental notes, often smiling to yourself mindlessly. Now you found yourself, gushing over minor, fleeting incidents, where your fingers brushed against each other, in exchange of papers, or that his larger mass lingered over your desk, during quizzes, lightly feeling the gentle, erotic touch of his distended belly over your arm.

At one point, secluded in your distant seat, in the lecture hall, rather than diligently dotting down notes as you habitually would, you found yourself sketching "A.T + [your initial]" bordered over an arrow-darted love-heart. Shaking your head to yourself, as if you had awoken from a haste sleep, you truly could not fathom the sheer sway Aegon had over you, and yet his oblivious efforts seemed to taunt you a little more...

What felt like 10 hours was a mere one hour that had dulled by. Having spent countless hours deep into the previous night tediously studying, you felt tiresome quarrelling against the inevitable slumber that your body so desperately craved. Your head often bobbing up and down, eyes darting wide awake, shooting up towards your plump professor at the front, writing on the blackboard, his broad back turned towards you. The screeching sound of the white chalk against it, was steady enough to keep you pathetically awake.

Now that your attention was resumed once more on his figure, you delicately glanced over at how fitted his dress shirt looked around certain soft edges. How tight the fabric had grown, since the semester began, as often his pupils sought food as a way to his heart, many had believed. His thighs stocky, you could not deny that his backside was chunky, an innate yet heinous urge to spank and squeeze at his porky flesh. The thought was enough to send a thrilling, dull ache between your thighs, as you hastily squirmed and readjusted in your seat.

Now resuming his focus back unto the class, your eyes widened lusciously at the breathtaking sight of his face, and that swollen stomach. One podgy hand rested atop its distended centre, as the other dropped the chalk to the side, and held up his notes. The tight sleeves of his white dress shirt, folded up only barely making it below his elbows. The black buttons of his tight fitted shirt, close to bursting at its seams, another backed goodie would do the trick to pop them right off, you fathomed. An excitement at the sheer, imaginative scene, Aegon slumped comfortably on a desk chair, relishing in the last few bites of a powdered doughnut, and you... Nestled cosily onto his wide, meaty lap, his thick arm wrapped around your side, his pudgy hand finding its way firmly gripping your thigh, as the other held the pastry good. And your head laying against his stocky shoulder, admiring the man, as your hand slowly, and soothingly rubbed circles against his swelling, tense belly.

Now the preemptive wetness, you could just feel brewing at your aching cunt. The moisture felt thick and warm, at the slightest of movement from below, closing your legs together desperately, fearful that your professor could practically smell you from the distance. Yet he remained unfazed, continuing on his tangent talk. Shoving his reading glasses further into his nose bridge, as he read the loose pages before him. Examining the room, the class was present yet not full, only a few missing, yet everyone either in their own world, whether sketching doodles in their notebooks, or gazing across online sites, the few at the front however, kept their sole attention on Aegon. Yet in your horizon, they stood blocking his view of you further in the back... You were certain your existence in his class was close to fictitious. Just a shadow in the background. He scarcely spoke to you, except for a quick "well done" or haste compliment on an assignment, you were merely just there. Or so you had credulously deluded yourself to believe.

You had never acted so impulsively and yet, you felt that carnal urge, that burning desire to be fulfilled. Envisioning Aegon in the privacy of your dorm was never satisfactory, often always distracted or interrupted, your ethereal vision of him taken from you in an instant. And yet, here he stood before you, in all his glory... Why deny yourself the pleasure? You promised it would be a mild, quick venture.

Your hand began to idly snake its way down below your desktop, whilst the other reached for your black denim jacket, covering your legs and skirt, acting as though a chilly breeze swept by. Your eager fingers pulling up your skirt, as it found its way to the soaked cloth of your sheer, cotton panties. Your cheeks instinctively flushed pink, heat coursing against your face, as the humiliation set in at just how fragile you felt against Aegon’s mere presence, a man that you had not even conversed for any longer than a mere minute.

The thought was unbearable and yet you could not help but succumb to your desires for him.

Panties tugged to the side, a finger slowly slipped in carefully, meticulous to not expose yourself in your movements or your sounds. God forbid, if you had helplessly let out a moan, a cry for his name, you would cease to exist.

With a slow and familiar pace, your hand began to pump in and out of your soaking entrance, your finger delved shyly inside, encircling your silky folds, as your eyes remained fixated on Aegon. Instead your mind alternatively ventured into the aching thought, instead of pleasing yourself, your generous professor was instead in your stead, eager to teach you his wisdom, how to please a woman, how to psych your mind to pleasure through his experienced touch, and the constant praise of what a “good girl” you’ve been for him, his best pupil yet.

Envisioning his handsome, soft face just inches apart from yours, as his plump, wet lips grazed over yours before falling into a kiss. Wondering what his mouth would taste like, concluding a sweet, cinnamon taste lingering from all the baked goodies he would devour. You ached to feel his adipose flesh beneath your grasp, kneading at his plump, fair skin, suckling at his sensitive fat, leaving red, blatant marks on his pale skin. Your free hand now rested on your desk, you firmly gripped the edge of the desk, intuitive for some support, as your hip bucked slightly forward, shoving your finger deeper into your oozing cunt.

The excitement remained stagnant, and having noticed no changes to your surroundings, no curious or suspicious looks earned, you confidently implored, inserting another digit between your velvet folds, your motions stretching your walls out, as your pace began to haste a notch.

The tight feeling of your innocent walls clenching around your fingers, your mind wandered to the memory of overhearing the notion of Aegon’s cock. Your mind intoxicated with the idea of its girth, the words of your fellow peers, echoing in your mind as you relished in the sensation of Aegon’s thick, throbbing cock painfully stretching you out instead.

“Thicker dudes have thicker cocks, c'mon this is known. They’ll stretch you out and it will hurt like fuck at first, but God is it worth it—”

Deeper your digits shoved themselves, eager to graze over that sweet, sweet spot, leaning more forward over your desk instinctively, your free hand gripping the desk, now subtly covering your mouth, in an attempt to muffle the moans. From time to time, you needed to muster the consciousness to open your eyes, trying to mask your actions with some normalcy, as your professor continued to speak. You swore for a split second, that his eyes hovered towards your direction, yet he persevered, unfazed by your discrete, promiscuous nature.

Gods, you were desperate for the man. If he had simply called out your name, that would be supple enough to make you cum.

Much to your oblivious and ignorant mind, you hadn’t realised that your jacket began to slip away beneath your knees, from all your squirming and pacing motions. Slowly and slowly, too occupied in your conceited ways, the jacket finally fell to the floor, your legs spread apart to accomodate for your hand and its motion, you hadn’t realised your licentious exposure, until the air conditioned chill of the room settled across your bare skin. Yet your hand remained inside of you, your pace now slowed, as your eyes fell back to Aegon, your awareness regaining itself. Seconds spared as you froze in motion, before realising your professors’s gaze remained fixated firmly onto you, his lilac orbs dropping down intently eyeing your lower half. Hastily, pushing his glasses against the nose bridge once more, clearing his throat, he looked hastily down as he stuttered on his words. Immediately, you gathered yourself into composure. That familiar, prior flustered feeling coaxed you once more, the embarrassment visibly flaring in your meek face, as you dared not to look towards Aegon.

Caught in fuss, as you prayed for your existence to simply disappear, the class had been dismissed, and you hastily attempted to gather your belongings, as they fell to your feet clumsily. Just as you’d picked up the last of the fallen stationary, shoving everything into your handbag, the sudden shout for your name, from a familiar, deep voice boomed from below the lecture hall.

“Y/N, if I could see you for a second, please?” Aegon shouted, as you frighteningly stared at him, shyly nodding as you hesitantly walked down the steps. Aegon remained, partially sat at the edge of his wooden desk, his thick arms folded across his belly, making him look even more brooding. Never this up close, you only just realised how feeble you looked against his larger stature, a few inches taller, yet wider than you his frame would engulf yours, if anyone looked from beyond him, your presence would go unnoticed. His eyes remained locked onto the entrance of the class, as each pupil filed out, some without a goodbye and others desperate for some acknowledgement before giddily pacing out, as he exchanged friendly goodbye wink.

Now it was solely you two remaining. The room felt vastly larger, yet suffocating simultaneously. This overbearing tightness brewing in your chest, as you clenched your notebook closer to your chest. Despite now being fully clothed and composed, you felt naked in his presence, the shame settling in.

“How’s the semester been treating you, Y/N?”

That was strange, you hadn’t expected him to ask that. Whether it was the unexpected question or the shame, you struggled to muster the strength of your voice, as the words remained choked in your throat.

“I-I suppose it’s okay. Stressful, but okay, S-Sir.”

“I gather you’ve been busy with your studies, with exams and what not coming up. I rarely see you out of the library, not even the cafeteria.”

He noticed? You could scarcely fathom his words, and yet it was true. With the semester’s end exams looming in the horizon, you had kickstarted your thorough studies, desperate to cram every bit of information into your memory before it was too late. At times, you were so preoccupied, food was not an option, otherwise your roommate would politely gather you some sustenance from outside.

“I-I just don’t have the time for anything else these days, th-than to study… S-Sir.”

As you found courage to respond, in the meanwhile, Aegon had shut the door close, the hall becoming just a little more suffocating, trapping you in his sole presence, before he resumed his previous stance.

“Is that why you wished to put on that little show up there? Is that your call for help, hmm?”

Taken aback, you felt the scarlet blush of your cheeks flare up in heat, your lips mouthing open yet not words echoed through. Your eyes pondered to the ground seldomly, unable to maintain eye contact, as Aegon released a growling chuckle.

“It’s okay, Y/N. I suppose, I was just not expecting that from you—”

A wave of disappointment wretched and hurled in your stomach, as his words engraved in your mind. Shooting your eyes rapidly up at him, shaking your head you profusely began to apologise.

“It-It was unlike me, Aegon- I-I mean Professor. I am not the type that does ugh- that sort of thing, I-I am unsure of what came over me, p-please don’t fail me—”

As you breathlessly plead your case, taking a small step towards Aegon, you felt your eyes swelling with hot tears, as one fell across your tender cheek.

“Hey-Hey, what makes you think I would fail you? I’m not disappointed, Y/N—”

A loose strand of your hair had fallen besides your face unknowingly, yet Aegon took the decency to brush it across, stroking the strand behind your ear, as his pudgy hand cupped your face, the other gently rubbing at your side for reassurance. His touch was just as divine as you had imagined, feeling your senses slowly begin to collapse.

“I’m just surprised… A little esteemed. If I’m being quite honest, I would expect that behaviour from the others, but you? Not in my wildest dreams… You never cease to amaze me, huh?”

The last words he uttered, his thumb lightly flicked at your chin, lifting it subtly up, as he nudged for you to look up at him. Met with his warm smile, you bashfully returned the favour, completely smitten.

“I suppose I’ll have to change classes? Professor Lannister might—”

“There will be no such thing, you’re staying here. You’re my best student. And besides, Lannister’s a perv. One look at you, and he’ll think he has a chance.”

“B-But, where do we- how do we move on f-from this, exactly, Sir?”

Aegon resumed leaning back on the desk, plopping himself down, the wood creaked beneath his heavier mass, as his hands remained firmly holding yours.

“We tell no one… No one needs to know. I still teach you and you, well—”

Licking his soft lips, his eyes feasted over you, hungrily lingering from head to toe, devouring you as if you were some dessert out before him, that he was about to spoil himself silly with.

“—you can sit up there and still tease me all you wish, but perhaps… You would rather find more comfort in the privacy of my office. How about you meet me there at 5pm, just for some one on one lessons. I guarantee it’ll help with your studies. Let me help you to ugh- prepare.”

“I-I suppose that would be okay, if that is what you best advise. I-Is that what you want from me, Sir? For me to keep my pretty mouth shut, and do as I am told?”

Now the tables turned, the sudden outburst of an ego from your end, having been swayed by Aegon’s sly remarks, he remained somewhat… Impressed. Closing the distance between you both, his gut now pressing up against you, your breasts being pushed up against it. Precisely as how you creatively envisioned it, his plump lips crushed against your own, the sweet, sugary taste lingering in his mouth was a pleasant one, as his tongue pried its way into your own, before releasing as he inhaled a deep breath.

“You keep being that pretty, obedient girl I know you are, and I’ll show you just how proud I am of you.”

general taglist (bold means I could not tag you) - @evenstaris @bel-bottoms @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @ilikeitbetterangsty @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @randomdragonfires @sylasthegrim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @aemondtargaryensrider

Aegon ii taglist - @who-told-you-this-was-butter @f4ll-for-you @amiraisgoingthruit @bucknastysbabe

credit for divider - @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[emeritusemeritus]

Just wanna bewitch you in the moonlight. Pt 10.

[Fred Weasley x Reader x George Weasley]

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Title: Just wanna bewitch you in the moonlight.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader x George Weasley

Timeline: Predominately set between GOF and OOTP (some canon has been altered to fit the story)

Summary: Both twins like Gryffindor!reader. Reader likes both twins. How will she decide who to chose in the end? Amortentia might be able to help, or not.

Warnings: Smut, oral sex, p in v sex, established relationships, threesomes, friends to lovers, all the good stuff. NO Twincest. Mentions of illness, Brief mentions of vomiting. Tiny bit of angst, possessiveness, talk of kids. Mentions of dominant behaviour. Snape has a soft spot for reader. Love potions? But none are actually used. Not beta-read nor spell checked, we die like Sirius ❤️

Okay this one is admittedly a necessary filler so the reader can work out her feelings, but I promise we’re moving into the good stuff next chapter 🤍

You tuck your letter away under your placemat as you eat, not wanting to open it up in the middle of lunch, even though the others had done so.

Truthfully, you were dreading whatever news your dad had for you and you would rather read it in private, knowing he rarely wrote to you so it must be some form of news, most likely bad.

George kept flicking his gaze to you at he ate, clearly checking on your well-being but you simply pretended that you were fine even though you could feel the pit on anxiety building up inside.

After lunch, you'd all decided not to go back to the lake but to shower and chill in the house as the sun was at its peak and quite frankly, you couldn't sit in it much longer. Hermione had packed already and had everything ready for her leaving later that afternoon, so you took some time to just spend her last few hours all together.

You were all sat around in the lounge, the coolest room in the house, some of you reading, some playing exploding snap and others just chatting. It was nice just to all spend time together even if you weren't all interacting as you escaped the heat in the coolest room.

"Wanna play a game? Like truth or would you rather or something?" Ginny asks after winning another round of exploding snap. "I'm not doing dares with these two here," she says, nodding towards the twins.

"What's that?" Ron says, confused.

"It was on a muggle movie we watched, they take turns and ask each other questions," she shrugs, not really able to elaborate further. "Sometimes it's like would you rather chose A or B."

"We're in," the twins say in unison, moving to sit closer around the coffee table.

You, Hermione and Harry were sat on the sofa, Ron in the armchair and Ginny and the twins were sat around the table on the floor, padded out with cushions.

"Yeah sounds good to me," you say, placing your bookmark into your book and placing it down next to you on the floor.

Everyone mutually agreed and you all began huddling round, deciding on the rules.

"Okay youngest to oldest," Ginny says, hearing immediate protest from the twins. "You chose first yesterday and today, time for a switch up." You laugh at her bossiness, having to sometimes remind yourself that she was the youngest but the twins, Fred especially, had a soft spot for her and actually didn't protest further.

"Right, Harry, truth or would you rather?"

"Umm, would you rather," he says, touching his glasses nervously.

"Would you rather spend the entire day with Draco or Dudley?" She asks, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He huffs out a little nervous laugh as he thinks before answering Dudley.

"Ron, truth or would you rather?"

"Would you rather," he says confidently.

"Would you rather, er, throw up slugs again or dance with Snape at the yule ball," Harry says with a devious grin. You had to admit the last one was good but it was much tamer than you originally had thought it would be.

"Vomit slugs, easy," Ron says, brushing his hair out of his face. "Hermione?"

"Um, truth?" She says, unsure of herself.

"Oh erm, ughr," Ron mumbles, not knowing what to ask. Immediately the twins begin to mock him and you even inwardly groan, finding the game boring already. "How many books have you read this summer?"

You roll your eyes and openly groan along with the twins, all three of you finding the questions too boring.

"I'll answer that for her, too many," Fred says, jumping in. "Right I'm switching things up." He immediately stands and walks off, coming back a few minutes later bringing an empty bottle with him, necking the last of the drink before he puts it on the coffee table.

"Whoever it lands on has to answer the question, then they get to ask the next question," He says, spinning the bottle until it lands on Ron.

"Ronald, still a virgin?"

You have to hold back a little chuckle at the sudden shift in tone at Fred's brash words and even without looking you know that Ron is beet red.

Ron manages to huff and puff, squirming in his seat as he does indeed turn bright red.

You found yourself dissociating away from the game as others answered, trying to squirm away from the harsher questions the twins were coming out with. You excused yourself and walked to the kitchen, feigning getting a drink as you sat at the table, pulling out your letter, unable to wait any longer.

"Dear y/n,

Your friend has written you a letter but did not know the address of the friend you were staying with; so please find their letter inside. Hope school is going well and you are staying out of trouble. Best wishes, dad.

You almost rolled your eyes at the bluntness of the note, feeling overwhelmingly relieved that it wasn't a true letter from your father. Casting the note to the side, you pulled out the second letter, written on both sides of regular notebook paper that had been folded somewhat neatly, the girly but messy writing already making you smile.

"My dear y/n,

We miss you so much, when are you coming back to see us? You've not really missed much, apart from Johnny has a girlfriend now! Weird right? It's actually kind of disgustingly cute. School is shit, just like normal but only one term left before college. Everyone misses you, the band just isn't the same without our rock chick.Dad's taking me to London after work on Friday, remember that coffee shop we found last time? I've made him promise to take me and he said that he'd eat the banana bread that you loved so it would feel like you were there with me! Hope to hear from you again soon. Love you! Val, Still your best friend x

You reread the letter multiple times, perfectly envisioning her voice as you read it. You missed her terribly, along with all of your friends, but Val had always been you're closest friend back home.

You sensed a presence behind you and turned to see George watching you with concern. You smiled at him and he looked instantly a little relieved, moving forward to stand behind you, placing his hand on your shoulder.

"Is everything okay with your dad?" He asks cautiously, knowing that the relationship was rocky and sometimes a sore spot for you. You snorted a laugh and nodded in reply.

"He was just forwarding a letter from my friend," you explained.

The beginnings of an idea were forming in your head as you looked at George, a rising hopefulness gathering in your belly.

"What time are your parents taking Hermione to the train station?" You asked, looking up at him questioningly, before craning your neck to look at the clock near the staircase.

"Um about two I reckon, why?" George asks, moving to sit beside you at the table in Arthur's usual spot.

"Do you think they'd let me go with them?" You asked and George immediately looked bewildered, "not to catch a train, I wanted to nip into London."

"I don't see why not, why do you want to go to London though?" He asked, thoroughly confused.

"My friends going to be there, I was hoping to surprise her and to be honest I could do with some new stationary before we get back to school," you explained, "maybe a new textbook or two."

"I don't like the idea of you going alone angel, can Fred and I join you?" He asks, warming your heart a little more at his concern. You burst into a smile and nod enthusiastically, it would be nice for you to go with the twins.

"I'd like to meet my friend alone though, no offence," you said, treading carefully. He smiled in understanding.

"Of course angel, you can meet me and Fred after, it would make me feel a lot more comfortable that way," he says nervously and you immediately reach over to kiss his cheek at his sweetness.

"Oi! Fred!" George bellows suddenly as you pull away. Fred walks out not a minute later after hearing his twin calling for him.

"Wanna go to London this afternoon? Y/n wants to go," George says, nodding towards you.

"I'm in," he shrugs, sitting down next to you at the table.

And that is exactly how you found yourself in the centre of a bustling and muggy Diagon Alley on a Friday afternoon with most of the Weasleys. Molly had jumped at the chance to go shopping and Arthur had gone along with it for the sake of his family. You knew where Val would be later that afternoon and hoped to be able to catch her but until then you strolled around Diagon Alley with the twins, having dropped Hermione off at the station and then broken away from the others as you weaved in and out of the stores.

Your first stop was Gringotts to exchange a muggle cheque your father had sent at the start of term for your school supplies before heading to Flourish and Botts for some new supplies.

"Wonder if they still sell Lockhart's shit?" You laugh as George opens the door for you.

"Doubt it, though fiction books always sell better," he laughs, following you towards the textbook area with Fred lingering behind.

Seeing a potion book you didn't own, you briefly flicked through it before putting it back on the shelf, realising it was utter trash. You briefly wondered if Professor Snape would let you borrow any of his own books this year, knowing that though they were much more advanced, they were immeasurably more informative.

You picked up a new textbook that you needed for your defence against the dark arts class and began wandering towards the back section when an overly excited Fred ran up to you and George, wielding a book.

"Twelve fail-safe ways to charm witches!" He says excitedly, laughing whilst flicking through the pages to show you a few diagrams and read out a couple of passages.

"And you need that why?" You asked defensively with a frown, not finding the underlying meaning very funny. He immediately senses your displeasure and his eyes bug out as he stumbles over his words as he tries to explain.

"Not for me princess, obviously, merlin, I meant for us to give it to Ron!" George immediately laughs at the plan and you absently nod, feeling a little off from the whole thing. You begin wandering away from them, making your way back to the potions area as they excitedly flick through the book.

"Professor?" You say smiling, spotting a familiar face within the potions section, his characteristic black hair and flowing capes always recognisable.

"Miss y/l/n," he says, turning in surprise at your voice, an almost smile tugging at his lips in recognition as he looks down into your basket. "I would have thought you already owned a copy of the necessary textbook for my class," he says with a hard but familiar tone, as if there's humour buried deep within it.

"I do sir, I was hoping to find something more advanced but they're all utter drivel," you said honestly, gesturing to the green book you'd looked at earlier. He huffs out a little puff of laughter though he tries to hide it before turning away to look up at the shelf. "Yes," he says, drawing out the syllable of the word before reaching up to the top shelf and pulling down a small, leather bound book that was hidden between two much larger books. He checks the spine and briefly flips it over before handing it to you with an almost smile, "this should be of use to you, it is well beyond the ability of a typical sixth or seventh year but you've exceeded all of my previous expectations, what's one more."

"Thank you Professor," you say as you reach for the book, trying desperately not to blush at his praise.

"Angel- oh, Um, Professor Snape," George says as he bounds around the corner, coming to an immediate holt as he spots the Potion master. Fred, clearly not anticipating his brother's sudden stop, barrels into George from behind as they both look up to see you and Snape conversing.

"Anyway," Snape says, his tone and features immediately hardening as he looks at the troublesome twins before looking back at you, "good day."

You follow him with your eyes, looking down at the book he'd given you before looking up again, just in time to see him cast one last glance at you before exiting the store.

"What did old Snapey want?" Fred said, throwing his arm around your shoulders.

"He recommended a book for me, said it would help me with my NEWTS," you shrugged, not directly trying to knock Fred's arm off of you but also not actively trying to keep it around you, still feeling a little uneasy about the misunderstanding with the book from earlier.

You walked and paid for the two books before shoving them into your little crochet shopping bag and walked over to Quality Quidditch supplies with the twins so that they could fawn over the new brooms and array of merchandise.

Checking the time, you briefly wondered when you should set off for the little muggle coffee shop just outside of Diagon alley that you knew Val would be visiting and decided to have another thirty minutes with the twins before going.

You ran into Molly and Arthur who were sat outside one of the tea shops sharing a pot of tea. They waved excitedly at you all and carried on with their little date that mainly consisted of people-watching and laughing.

You nipped to fetch a new quill and some parchment before eyeing up a new school skirt in Madam Malkin's but couldn't justify spending the money when you're old one would do, at least for the rest of this year. Fred, true to form, had quietly muttered some sexual innuendos about never having enough skirts and how much he liked you in them but you ignored him and instead left without the skirt.

"Okay, I'm going to meet my friend, not sure how long I'll be, where will I find you?" You turned, addressing the twins.

"Take all the time you want. We'll probably be in Gambol and Japes, if not we'll meet outside Ollivanders or come to you?" George said, pointing towards the joke shop on the corner. You nodded and reached out to subtly grab his other hand as you said goodbye. You turned to Fred and he subtly leaned in, looking like he was whispering in your ear and kissed the side of your head gently.

George then reached up and grabbed your shopping bag off your shoulder with a smile, "don't want her seeing any of this do you?" He slung it over his own shoulder and you had to bite your lip at seeing the 6 foot 3 Weasley boy lugging around a rose patterned crochet bag, but it didn't even faze him after wearing a lifetime of Molly's knitted creations.

Walking towards the coffee shop, your nerves were all over the place, firstly hoping that you could catch her and secondly that she would respond well to the surprise if you had your timings right.

Walking in, the little bell above the door chimed and you took a moment to look around at the customers, not seeing her signature blond hair anywhere.

"What can I get you love?" The barista asks and you ordered a caramel macchiato, something that you would never be able to find in the wizarding world. You reached for your little coin purse of muggle money and paid with the change, waiting to collect your drink at the end of the bar. When your drink was ready, you walked over to a table near the window and were immediately thankful that you'd bought along your book so that you'd have something to distract you and that the coffee shop had working air conditioning. Each time the bell chimed, you looked up in hope but then went straight back to reading your book, waiting for the next time.

"You have to get the banana bread!" You heard as the bell chimed and it immediately alerted you to the voice. You grinned as you spotted a shirt female with familiar blonde hair stood beside her absurdly tall dad who had dark brown nearly jet black hair.

They ordered their drinks and cakes, paid and then moved to wait by the end of the bar just as you had. Seeking an opportunity, you stood and walked over to them discreetly before putting on a voice, "excuse me?"

They both turned around with polite but confused smiles on their faces and you couldn't help but laugh at the reaction as waves of recognition passed over them.

"Oh my god!" Val squealed as she threw her arms around you, not a single care in the world about her absurd volume. You beamed and laughed as she rocked you in her arms, thankful you were able to see her again. "What are you doing here?! I thought you were in school? Did you get my letter?" She began to say frantically as she pulled away to look at you. You simply laughed and nodded, not even knowing where to start. She pulled you in for another hug and you held her just as tightly; only realising now how much you'd missed her.

You looked over her shoulder to Adam, her dad, seeing him smile widely at you both. When you pulled apart, he held out the plate of banana bread towards you, gesturing for you to take it as he pulled you into a side hug, having been close since you were five years old.

"No I can't, you have it," you said, trying to protest. He chuckled and ran his hand through his hair, "I don't even like it, I was just doing it to shut her up. It's really good to see you, kid."

He walked off with his drink to sit down near the table where your stuff was, happy to give you both space and to flick through his mobile phone for a while, something you hadn't seen in a long time.

You were desperate for a catch-up with your best girl friend and truthfully, you needed some one to talk through your problems with, someone with an unbiased, outsiders perspective; someone who didn't know the twins at all. The whole Amortentia incident was still fresh in your mind, only worsened by smelling the whizzbang smoke the other night and you were more conflicted than ever about your feelings for both of them. Val was the only one who wouldn't judge you for what you were doing, who you knew you could trust to talk openly to, at least without mentioning the magic.

Val grabbed her drink from the counter and moved over to your original table so that you could chat. She went first, immediately telling you about how she was seeing a guy at school and that her dad didn't know so you had to be cool about it. She told you more about what college she had picked and how the rest of your friends were doing and some chatter about new muggle movies and music you needed to experience

"So, what about you?" She asks, picking the last little bits of her cake off the plate. You huffed out a sigh and placed your drink back down on the table. "Oh no, what happened with Fred?"

You'd told her all about your crush on Fred a few years ago but had never mentioned much about his twin, though you'd spoken about him in a friend way. You figured there was no time like the present to offload all of your complicated feelings.

"It's, complicated," you say, picking at the lid of your coffee, "did I tell you that Fred told me he had feelings for me?"

Judging by her almighty gasp, you assumed not. "Problem is, so did his twin brother." Another almost comical gasp.

"Then I realised that I might also have feelings for you George and things are now a little complicated, to say the least." You were quiet now, just a little above a whisper to avoid someone overbearing.

"So what did you do?" She asks attentively, giving you her full attention. You sighed and looked up at her as you replied.

"I'm kind of dating both? For now, please don't judge me."

"I would never!" She says reaching her hand towards yours, "so you have to decide eventually?"

You nod. "That's the problem. Every time I feel like I'm starting to decide, something tips the scale and I'm right back to the beginning."

You rub your hands over your face trying to relieve some of the tension but of course it doesn't work.

"Who do you see a future with?" She asks, keeping her tone even as she takes a sip of her coffee.

"Well that's the thing, I've been staying with them this week and both of them have said the cutest things about the future and it's got me even more confused. We had separate dates earlier this week and I had a night with George first, well kind of the day and night because Fred was sick and we talked about what we were doing after school and how we both wanted one or two kids etc, and it was such a nice thought. Then the other morning I came downstairs and he was in the kitchen reading the newspaper, shirtless and looking hot as fuck and it made me think that it could be my future you know, husband in the kitchen making breakfast blah blah blah." You took a breath and carried on explaining as she listened to you, "but then with Fred, the other night, he was saying about how we'd live together and he's hold me every night and bring me cups of tea in a morning and god the constant marriage references," you took another breath, trying to remember not to overload her and forcing yourself not to mention the Amortentia outright.

"The thing is, I love them both but in different ways. George brings me comfort, he's gentler and more sensitive, real proper husband material. I can see our future completely and I'd be happy but then there's Fred. We'd have a happy, fun filled life, it would never be boring and I'd be happy with him. But now I know what it's like to be loved by both of them and I can't even bare to think of choosing one and losing the other."

Silence lingers around you both as you finish offloading your thoughts. The weight of your words hangs in the air and you have to shoot a look at Val to check that she's still with you, and then around to check no one was listening.

"What about quick fire questions? We write out the answers or tally them and you can see who you favour?" She asks and to be honest, it sounds like a good plan.

"At this point I'd do anything."

She immediately scoots over to sit beside you rather than across from you and leans down to pull a notebook and pen from her bag. She flicks it open to a blank page and draws a little tally chart with their names at the top.

"So I'll ask you a bunch of different questions and scenarios and you have to say the first one that comes to your mind," she explains as you enthusiastically nod along with her. She suddenly leans in to whisper in your ear. "Quick one, have you slept with them both?"

You nod slowly, feeling as if she would judge you but she simply nods with a neutral expression, as if it was just a regular thing to ask someone.

"Okay, who's messier?"

"Fred."

"Who's grumpier?"

"Fred."

"Who's the most romantic?"

"George."

"Who's funnier?"

"Fred."

"Who's more sensitive?"

"George."

"Who hugs you more?"

"George."

"Who kisses you more?

"Fred."

"Who's hornier?"

"Fred."

"Who gives better head?"

"George."

"Who has a bigger dick?"

"Fred," you say, quickly adding, "only by a fraction though." She nods, then begins changing tactics.

"Does Fred want kids?"

"Yeah, but he wants more than George."

"Who's more attractive?"

"They're identical twins," you say blankly but she reaches out and flicks you on the arm.

"And you can tell them apart so there must be differences," she reasons and you can't fault her logic.

"Um Fred? George's nose is a little bigger and his features are a little sharper I guess."

"Okay next set of questions," she says, looking up from her notes, "If you did chose one, who would take the rejection worse?"

"George," you reply, your heart doing a little twang of sadness at the very thought.

"Okay, fast forward five years, it's a Saturday morning, no work, no plans, explain what it would look like with George," she says, preparing to make notes again.

The memory of him in the kitchen the other morning, shirtless and reading the newspaper flashes into your mind.

"I wake up and he's not in bed but there's a hot cup of tea on the bedside table. He's in the kitchen, sat shirtless at the little table, reading the newspaper and sipping his tea. He pulls me into his lap, rests his head on my shoulder and reads the sport scores out to me and any news bits he knows I'd like. I make breakfast for us and we sit and eat at the little table laughing and chatting until we inevitably end up back in bed," you say, listing out each part of your little dream.

Val let's out a little 'aww' as she makes her notes before looking back up to you with a smile, "same scenario but with Fred."

"I wake up and he's sleeping next to me, still holding me from the night before. He wakes up and we don't leave the bed for another hour at least. He makes me tea and we make breakfast together and then we sit watching terrible tv, mocking the actors and awful storylines. He pulls me closer to him to cuddle on the couch and we spend the day just like that."

"Okay different tactic again, I want you to give me the pros for dating Fred or listing his best qualities," she says, flipping over the page and starting a new one entirely.

"He's funny and mischievous, kind to me, very protective. Hot obviously, like little stupid things like running his fingers through his hair or rolling up his sleeves. We're best friends so there's no weirdness and most people think we're dating anyway."

"Okay now George."

"Funny, sensitive and sweet, more considerate than Fred and more likely to notice somethings wrong. More likely to think ahead, and to apologise. He's comfort for me."

"And now worst qualities of Fred."

"Doesn't always think things through, can be impulsive and not think of the consequences. He can be a little mean, to his brothers and stuff, just a little more brutal than George is. He can be a little grumpy sometimes, usually about other guys or whatever like he's a little possessive. Not always the most responsible and can be a little unreliable."

"And George?"

"Follows Fred diligently, a little insecure, not as confident in himself, same as Fred that he doesn't always think of consequences."

"Okay last one, what are the pros and cons of being in a relationship with them in general?"

"Pros; wonderful family, great parents in law, I get along really well with their other siblings, share the same friends. I'd be happy."

"Cons?"

"Um well I guess there family isn't rich or anything, not that it bothers me, but for some maybe that's a thing? The only con is hurting the other brother."

"Right, your conclusion," she says, adding up the tally before looking back at you.

“You’re screwed.”