#so i may just reread that chapter on the day

[atypical-artisan]

A MEGA REVIEW OF EGG

This is my mega review of all the current chapters of @tonitheloftwing's 'Egg' as a (Late) birthday gift for him! Also including a mock up of a fic cover image for him too!

Review will be by chapter and include my initial thoughts and re-read thoughts separated by a line.

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If you're to lazy to read the in-depth review:

Egg is good. It's very realistic and balances it's darker themes with wonderful warmth and charm. The character chemistry is excellent and the main focus, Bianca, is such a sweet woman trying her best. Give Mac ur love and go read it on AO3!!!

Chapter 1:

Initial thoughts: Good setup! Warm, inviting, it really feels like a mother’s love when reading. A little surprised by the ‘house on fire’ metaphor near the end but it’s a small bump. It’s a pleasantly short into that introduces us to Bianca's warmth well and starts the story off on a high note.

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As said in the first read through/review: This chapter exudes a warm atmosphere. It’s clear that Bianca is a loving mother, putting Mac before herself always, doing everything she could to make him happy, paying attention to his interests, playing with him without being cruel, letting him go off on his own without being clingy, etc. It’s a good start for the whole premise of the fic!! It tells a lot about her character in this stage of her life and is a good contrast w later scenes. On the surface it may seem a little slow but upon reread it’s really excellent in how it references aspects of future stories and sets up her character. So bravo work!!

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Chapter 2:

Initial thoughts: Genuinely pretty funny Chapter! It still retains the “warm memory’ aspect of the previous chapters while adding airs of sweetness and humor with Mac’s finding of a cat. It feels pretty realistic for a young child! On top of that the introduction of Mac’s biological father is interesting, especially with how him and Bianca almost immediately fight, distracting them both from Mac to a dangerous degree, and how he comes late to clocking out of work. His approach to parenting feels distant and lax, while Bianca is realistic and trying to keep Mac in order.

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This chapter is greater than I remember. I really appreciate that u chose to keep Mac as Mac for the most part cause it’s a hell of a lot easier to read like this. Mac's attachment to his dad at this time is really clear but it’s also painfully clear how little his dad cares for Mac and Bianca's time and how little he regards the safety of Mac. While Bea is stretching herself thin w him, worried sick and terrified when their two year old runs off. Mac's dad just laughs, takes a photo let’s the baby keep the damn thing without regard for the landlord. He wouldn’t survive a day parenting alone. And it’s clear to me Mac likes him so much cause he spoils him in a way and teaches him bad behavior. A darkness within but still keeping warmth.

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Chapter 3:

Initial thoughts: Interesting chapter! A lot darker and colder than the last two from the get-go it’s really great! It’s a bit of a sudden shift but the aspect of dealing with the emotions feels really well done and well paced. It’s clear both Mac and Bianca are seriously struggling but trying to get by and it feels pretty realistic. There are some moments, like the one in the car where Mac is explaining his emotions- that feels older than what a 5 year old should be capable of expressing and took me out of the story a bit but it’s still really well written. Maybe if that one aspect was cut up into a smaller monologue it would have worked better for me. The broken glass was a really hard hit and the little hints you give to Mac's autism are really cool!! I also like the element of strict gendering kids do here its a nice setup to future trans aspects of the story. Overall a good, darker chapter!

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Though upon reread this chapter is less jarring, it’s still heavy hitting and a hard shift in tone from previous chapters. Some of Mac’s words feel really adult here but, Bea implying he’s mimicking his father makes it make more sense. The part where Bea is broken up about the wine glass is really powerful- even if someone hurt us we can still miss them and want to preserve our happy memories of them and it can be horrible if we can’t. Honestly this scene suck to me so much that I got an inkling of autism in Bea from it. Egg is a menace- breaking Bea's heart like that even tho he gets wet food. Plus painful chapter title damn. And Mac parroting how he’s been raised by her is a sweet touch, it feels realistic.

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Chapter 4:

Initial thoughts: Interesting choice to make his deadname something ppl frequently hc as his name! Oooh very dark aspect of her suspecting Mac’s autism symptoms are from learning abusive behaviors form his dad. Hmm and Bianca being resistant to therapy and the idea he’s autistic? No bueno. Also Interesting is her pushing herself so hard when she does have extra support. She’s like a lot of parents- without a life outside of her kid. Kim seems like a good friend and Bianca is really resistant from moving away from Mac or focusing on other ppl outside of the small circle. OH DAMN YIKES ON MAC THO. Poor boy having such a bad breakdown over everything. Really interesting how his dysphoria is manifesting. On the surface it seems like he might be anxious about the sexism of other kids but we as readers know there’s something more going on. Good chapter! Less dark than the previous but not as warm! It’s a good blend of darkness and light!

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Rereading this chapter hit hard tbh. Mac's anger and gender distress at the end was just as hard to read as the first time and Bea's attempts to hide her financial troubles, brush off her friends suggestions, and overall clinging to mac are still really clear aspects of her personality. Mac and Bianca's writing feel really realistic to p much everything mentioned here. Like u mentioned the first time, I like how the gender thing could’ve been interpreted as anxious girl afraid of bullies because ppl dislike how they're not femme enough or are just sexist in that time and not something like Mac is trans. Seeing Bianca be hesitant to admit that something is different abt him is also cool as is her hesitance to seek ppl outside of her kid.

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Chapter 5:

Initial thoughts: Really interesting how tense Bianca is about everything. That really seems to be a staple of her personality when Mac is young compared to when he was a baby and when he’s older. And ooh yay Doc!! I can already see Bianca is noticing a lot about him! Him and Bianca have a smooth chemistry already, warm and inviting! Doc is really charming and his banter with Bianca is really natural!! And LOL even in the middle of a dream scenario Bianca is still nervous af abt mac. Ngl the whole kids convo feels a little rushed for a first meeting BUT it actually works p well considering Bianca's entire personality here. And hey once again Doc being Prince charming! There really is a warmth brought back in this chapter from the previous two, it’s a nice change of pace and the ramp form anxiety to warmth is nice. LOL I also love the pen hunting thing you got- very cute. Ngl I really love Doc's enthusiasm here, it’s so sweet and good to read for Bianca. And DAMN Bianca, back at it again with the anxiety. I love how she affirms herself tho, really great. Still just delicious banter between her and doc. Even when they get on edge it’s not bad and it’s still so smooth! "Her name sounded so beautiful on his lips” <- YUM LINE.

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Another great chapter to reread. It does a great job at really stretching Bea's character out to be on full display. She’s incredibly high strung, focused on Mac, yet when Doc comes into the picture a more forward and flirty side comes out of her. And Doc is incredibly sweet and pleasant- a prince charming for real. It makes sense for both of them to be a little shy and awkward but the date is really smooth and it feels really good to read. I’m surprised by how long Bea and Frank were together from at least 20 to 35 holy shit. No wonder she’s so wrecked about him it was at least 15 years- her entire young adult life- down the drain. Doc and her getting together at the end feels rewarding and it’s nice to see Bea come out of her shell to chill.

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Chapter 6/Stiff Peaks:

Initial thoughts: DAMN already we got a “fuck me please”- really hot stuff. Holy crap I regret not reading this earlier. Not only does it keep up such great banter and warmth between them but it feels so real and sexy! And Doc's insistence on clear consent is so cute too. And God Bianca at the end of her rope is so funny. You really do know how to make sex so fun! The pet names are such a nice touch and both Doc and Bianca feel so mature and real here. And Jesus dude your descriptions are absolutely delicious. Just so sweet and charming and good. And even the little break between just amazing!! I REALLY regret not reading this earlier! God just hot hot hot. Amazing everywhere. there were like 2 lines formatted a little wrong but I barely noticed lmao.

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This chapter is incredibly sexy and I love it. It masters one thing that a lot of smut fics, and really horny fiction, easily fails at and that’s the art of desire. Bea and Doc really really desire each other and you can read it in every line. It holds the whole piece together so well. That on top of their already good chemistry and easy banter makes the porn feel very natural and mature yet still vulnerable and real. That is a real skill to have in terms of writing smut. And I really love how you weren’t scared to make it awkward in a few places, you weren’t scared to have them tease each other. It feels so great that even when you did describe a lot of action it felt incredibly sexy and still in the mood. I definitely appreciate how patient Doc is during it all.

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Chapter 7:

Initial thoughts: GOD ok, dude how do you write Doc as such a prince charming? He’s so attentive and sweet and open, Ugh he’s perfect. Esp his eagerness to look after Mac is just so cuteeeee. And God poor Mac still being broken up abt his dad n Doc promising to be better- he’s just the best! A marshmallow fluff ass relationship. Okay Mac being observant enough to sense a boyfriend is CUTE and so is the following stuff with Bianca reassuring him and getting ready. Doc is cute af again being so sweet. Doc is so good with little Mac augh!!!! Mac is such an excited little darling- I love how Doc keeps engaging him sm. Mac returns to being well written as a child! He feels so much like a 6 year old it’s cute af. And again the mood is warm and charming! I really love Mac's attachment to doc- it’s a bit quick, but makes sense with the story you’re telling. Love how willing and open Doc is, always trying to be on Mac's level! His earnestness about wanting to make Bianca happy is just fantastic. And the last few paragraphs of Bianca observing the two of them is so good, esp that last line “I want him to be with me as long as hell have me” is so GREAT

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Another reread chapter with a ton of warmth. They all feel real and in their correct ages. Doc really has his prince charming thing going at full power like damn he’s so charming Mac immediately wanted him to be his new dad. I was expecting Mac to hate him at first but i like that he doesn’t and can tell not only how great Doc is but can be read to think of him as a way to fill the void his bio dad left. Bea is the patron saint of eternally tired mother’s, this woman is absolutely run ragged and she definitely needs the help, it’s honestly cute how Mac doesn’t understand but also sad. And Doc being so emotionally open and vulnerable with Bea and with Mac, it’s wonderful to see. Last line blew me off my feet obviously.

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Chapter 8:

Initial thoughts: Aight, good on doc for helping the ever anxious Bianca!! And yay mac starts boxing!! RAHH DOC AND BIANCA BEING A MUSHY GUSHY COUPLE!! LOL the Yankees joke dhfbfjdj. Ur really funny lmao. I love the little convo Doc and Bianca have about Mac growing up, us so sweet and charming how much Doc loves her and wants to be in their lives. And damn Doc being anxious? LOVE. It’s so sweet how Bianca wants to help him too augh!!! And their banter is as smooth and fun as ever- you’re so great at writing good chemistry! And OOOF Doc being such a sweet, caring, attentive partner scared he’s gonna fuck things up? Goddamn, love it tho!!! Banter and convos are a+++++ you’re so good at them dude. I really like how Docs relationship w Bull has affected his mental state a lot!! It feels realistic, as does the dialog! It feels a bit like they’ve been to therapy but not enough to be super distracting, it also feels very mature! Also the “bald bull mention” with the emoji fucking SENT ME.

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I really love how this chapter mirrors the last one in terms of story- chapter 7 involves Bea's fear of sharing what’s troubling her in a current problem and finding a reassurance w Doc and now Doc is getting reassurance from her for a past problem. It’s really nice to hear a bit of Bea's backstory here, the story about the bats was charming! Doc's moments of vulnerability are really great here too and his anxieties here make a ton of sense considering who he was dating. Bea being able to be the prince charming for Doc is really great! It’s brings a nice balance in their relationship that i was starting to feel lacking in the previous chapters. And, omg, the last paragraphs are so cute- them discussing their future together just ❤️

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Chapter 9:

Initial thoughts: UH OH BIANCA'S SICK. My instant thought was pregnart but I know that’s not gonna be it lol. I find the perspective shift and interesting choice! Is it pulling from Doc's memories now? Oh hey Mac's in therapy! That’s really great! Oh no! My heart is fucking broken dear god! At least Doc is fantastic at comforting poor Mac oml. You’re really good at writing angst too. The whole bit about Mac feeling responsible for his dad leaving him and Bianca is so sad yet so real and sweet AUGH. Doc really is best dad fr. Its so nice to see him be so open and straightforward w his affection. Also Mac asking Doc to marry his mom LMAO. Little surprised almost 2 years have passed already tbh. But I’m happy it’s not making big time jumps either! It feels a bit like a slow burn and it’s nice!

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This is such a sweet chapter tbh. I love how Mac feels really safe to be vulnerable here and Doc focuses so much on loving Mac and showing him a safe person rather than giving to his base emotions. It’s so damn mature!! Mac is still incredibly well written and has great chemistry as he does with Bea. Mac's worries are so heavy and it’s great to hear he’s been to therapy for it, it’s even greater to see Doc handle it with grace and reassure Mac that he’s a safe person. Now Bea being sick… well on my first read i didn’t expect it to go where it did but it’s a very obvious tell lmfao. I was unsure of the pov switch at first but now I’m really into it. It gives us a great opportunity to see Mac and Doc alone! I’m curious if we’re ever gonna see Mac's pov.

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Chapter 10:

Initial thoughts: Oooh alright, very intriguing intro here! Considering pregnart is a very scary thing! Poor Bianca!!! She’s already very anxious she does NOT need this too. Kim is such a good friend- poor Bianca breaking down and her being a saint. OH DAMN SHE REALLY ARE PREGNART HUH. And DAMN you did a good job on Doc's reaction- charming and great as ever!! Augh Mac's stupid bio dad- I hope he explodes. Once more ADORING the banter between Bianca and Doc it’s just so good!! They’re so in love it makes my heart ache. And GOD THE LAST LINE. How are you so great at ending chapters? All this good stuff has me TERRIFIED for the future my God. Mac doesn’t have a siblings so… what’s gonna happen good lord it’s a scary thought. Excited for the dread tho!!

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WHOO BOY BIG CHAPTER. First off, I really like the pregnancy reveal and how anxious it makes Bea- she SHOULD be anxious cause this is a very rare scenario!! But even more I love how we know that he relationship w Frank and fear of him makes her scared if a lot of things, even though doc is so nice to her. It’s very realistic!! Doc's reaction is so damn sweet, nothing could be more perfect. Kim is an angel of a friend as well and it’s really great to see Bea have so much support. Mac being a little unbearable and Bea holding back her frustration is honestly cool to see!! What’s also cool is the hint that “Bea thought mac was a boy”- v clever. Now… as happy as I am for the new parents… I’m deeply worried. Bro u keep hinting that they’re gonna break up and this younger siblings WASN'T in the potluck (no comment in your own words) and frankly this has had me SO STRESSED. Bea hinting that her pregnancy was traumatic is not looking good. It’s genuinely had me worried! I’ve been thinking abt it non stop since I first finished the fic!! Do NOT break my heart bro.

(Editing Charlie: I read the tags, ik u will and forgive u)

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Overall thoughts:

Egg is a really great story so far and the character chemistry and development is interesting af. I'm SO excited to see where it all goes and can't wait for the next update. Pls read it.

[fictionadventurer]

Potential March Reads

Wandering by Loren G. Warnemunde

Spe Salvi by Pope Benedict XVI

The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett

The Heir and the Spare by Kate Stradling (plus Maid and Minstrel and/or Brine and Bone)

The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien

The Light Princess by George Macdonald

The Hunger Games trilogy (and possible Sunrise on the Reaping by Suzanne Collins)

[orcelito]

It is Now

My birthday 😌

I am now 27 💃

[narlwhal-in-a-trashcan]

Nona is such a silly sweetie-pie

[emberfaye]

You know what?

I love you, fics that take months to update. I click on the newest chapter and have no memory of this place and get to go back some chapters and rediscover how much i love everything about this story.

I love you, fics that take years to update. I think of you fondly, and know your names, go search for you and see an update from this year and scream, diving in uncaring of any missed details (i will finish the update and read you in reverse because this is a treat you have bestowed)

I love you, fics that probably will never update again. Thank you for being a roman empire for my mind, thank you for teaching me about the ephemeral fandom experience, for inspiring a thousand million what if-s, for being a comfort read and a nostalgia read and a reread.

I love you fic writers, who jump into projects and stories with enthusiasm. I love you when you succeed in pumping out those chapters and that love doesn't go away when you stop.

I love you fic writers who post and then get in your own head and never feel confident enough to update, whether it's at all or whether it's just that one story.

I love you fic writers, who have a fandom or media hurt you to the point of abandoning or having a hard time with their WIPs.

I love you fic writers, who lose interest or have life changes or illness or bad memory. Thank you for being part of the fandom, a core part of the fandom. Thank you for the time spent in the fandom.

I love you, fic writers who try out something new and then stop. You're so valid.

I love you, WIP fics that may or may not ever get finished. Thank you for brightening my day in the way only you could have.

[dcxdpdabbles]

#holiday request

Another chapter of Alley Boyfriends, if you don't mind, I love it so much. If not, no worries. I love your work and love to reread your stuff. May your food be filling and your bills be paid!

Danny carefully adds the finishing touches to the seahorse he’s carefully designing on the surface of Tim’s mug of coffee. He’s been practicing his latte art because business has been slow at Heart Attack in secret. The previous week, he had seen Tim watching videos of strangers creating works of art using the foams of their coffee with blatant awe.

The Halfa will admit to the sight of wonder on Tim’s face when the flashier artist created swans with colored foam, and his heart gave the oddest flutters. It had been so brief but intense that Danny had feared a new power was unlocking in their living room.

Thankfully, the moment passed quickly, but Tim’s expression lingered in his mind. Danny had abandoned the piano to search somehow for videos of latte art within the next minute of that strange heart flutter.  

Danny had learned how to play from Wes in an ill-fated attempt to get the ginger to date him. Danny hadn’t been able to get the ginger to be his boyfriend, but he learned a skill he enjoyed. His parents bought him a second-hand stage piano that he had used for the few years he lived with them.

It broke sometime in senior year- he thinks Young Blood had blasted him through it- and he hadn’t bothered getting a replacement. Mainly because he couldn’t be concerned, as it was a hobby he hadn’t time to participate in once he got close to graduation. It would have remained a forgotten past time had the apartment not come with the grand piano.

The sound was so much richer, with a resonating tone that bypassed his skin and sunk into his soul. Danny could not let the thing of beauty go to waste. He often found himself sitting on the bench, letting his fingers dance off the keys, finding melodies and rhythms that welcomed him home like a returning hero of a fairy tale.

He didn’t think he was skilled at it, but sometimes, when he played, Tim would move closer. His eyelids would flutter close, lying on the nearby couch and listening to Danny play with a half-smile on his face. Sometimes, Tim would fall asleep, seemingly at peace, as Danny strung through Dance of the Blessed Spirits only a few feet away.

Despite all the coffee Danny had provided him with, Tim was starting to develop a better sleeping schedule. The bags under his eyes slowly faded, and he was physically fit. Tim used their apartment building gym all the time, but his skin was gaining a glow previously not there.

He also seems much happier. Danny checked off another box of Tim being a ghost in development, with his Heart Attack Coffee being a big part of his obsession.  Maybe it would not be his sole purpose when he passed, but Danny suspected that the coffee was associated with a good memory that fundamentally shaped Tim’s sense of self.

Danny didn’t like to think too hard about it. He’s gotten comfortable with death, seeing it as a natural part of life now that he spent so much time around the Death-Brought Ghosts, but the idea of Tim passing always twisted his heart into knots.

Sharp, painful knots that leave him fleeing from the dark thoughts as fast as possible. It would be years before Tim would no longer be part of this world. He had better things to do, like adding bubbles and seaweed around the seahorse and taking time to add as many little details as he could to create the scene of a lovely underwater image.

Danny finishes just as the kitchen clock- an expensive cuckoo clock that had golden trimmings, blending so well with the dark wood and gorgeous forest theme carvings that Danny had fallen in love with the second he spotted it at a street art festival that the pair had stumbled upon during a drive they took. Tim bought it when he realized Danny liked it, and it hung up that night. - goes off with a loud chime.

Another day has officially ended. 

His roommate would be up soon for whatever he does at nighttime, where he vanished for hours, coming home nearly always after witching hours, exhausted and bruised. Danny would linger in the living room for a bit if he was awake before heading to his room with a half-made excuse.

Tim would then sleep for a few hours before he was up again, rushing around the apartment to gather his things and be out for his daytime work. A lot of his job he can do at home, but Tim was important enough that he sometimes had to go to work in person.

In the three weeks that the two have moved in together, Danny hasn’t been braved enough to ask what his roommate did for a living. He knows Tim held some big corporate job- where and what he did there was a mystery- but his second job was vague and downright denied at worst.

Whenever Danny hinted so much about what he was doing at night, Tim moved the subject away. He didn’t flat out deny answering Danny’s probing, as more as he danced around the question so well, Danny found himself waltzing in a different direction before he realized what had happened. Tim had a silver tongue that was wielded like a sword, sharp, cutting, and deadly.

 It was mildly alarming, mainly because Danny had no idea what Tim was involved in. Something big, something likely bad. It could be the only explanation for the large amount of seemingly never-ending funds and the odd hours that Tim kept.

A boring office worker by day and who knows what by night.

He also always came back home half stumbling over his feet. There was even that one time when Tim had been half-dressed, his knuckles split, and hard anger set at his jaw. Danny had been caught up with a new show, only realizing the late hour once his roommate had practically shut the door.

The pair stared at each other. Danny bathed in the glow of the TV while Tim was shirtless and standing in the shadows of the front door. He wanted to ask thousands of questions, but Danny had only lifted the heated blanket- a gift from Tim- when he learned how affected Danny was by the cold. 

Tim’s face softened as he barreled into the warmth and snuggled into the couch cushions, joining Danny in watching a Korean rom-con that the Halfa had been in the middle of. He had no idea what the plot was or who the characters were, but by the end of the third episode, Tim’s head had fallen on Danny’s shoulder so deeply asleep that he didn’t feel Danny wrapped up his knuckles or carried him to his room.

Despite this, Danny didn’t move out. He didn’t stop providing Tim with his much-loved coffee. If anything, he took his worries, boxed them up, and stubbornly turned a blind eye to the worrying signs that Tim was showing.

A door opens behind him. Tim walks out, an overnight bag thrown over his shoulder as he speed walks through the living room. His roommate is scrolling on his phone, tapping a rapid-fire response to whoever he is chatting with. Danny could see the bubble messages screen even if he couldn’t make out the words before sighing. “I’ll be out all night. I’ll probably be back tomorrow around noon.”

A pool of dread piles in his stomach, but Danny pushes it away. “Alright.”

He holds out the mug, drinking in every facial feature shift as surprise blooms over Tim’s face before it melts into tenderness when he sees the shape of the latte art. It was painstaking to learn how to make a realistic-looking one on such a problematic canvas, but Danny is happy he spent time on it. After all, Tim’s favorite animal was the seashore, so he needed to make sure it looked good.

Only a few people knew that from what Danny gathered from Tim's few mentions while working on their three notebooks. He also thinks Tim doesn’t often tell people his favorites, but Danny has been paying close attention whenever Tim reacts positively to the world around him. The way Tim’s eyes sparkled when Danny clicked on a sea documentary where the small, shaped fish had been a main feature. Danny had found it adorable how Tim seemed unaware that he would randomly blurt out a new fun fact about the seahorses in the following few days.

“When you learn to make this?” Tim asks, curling his fingers around the mug. Danny’s heart leaps in his chest at the tender warmth glowing in Tim’s eyes as he gazed at him. Coughing into his hand, he waves his hand.

“I had some time since there hadn’t been a lot of customers lately. Ever since that Dr. Freeze threat, people have been avoiding the café.” Danny ignores the guilt he feels about that.

The other day, his powers had gone out of control after he made the mistake of going too long without using his ice, and when he developed that stupid head cold, he accidentally froze the street.

One coughing session later, the entire neighborhood ran to take shelter, panicking that the rouge had chosen their homes for his newest mayhem. Thank goodness the villain had actually broken out of Arkham the previous day, so no one batted an eye at the fact the ice surrounding a single barista was in the middle of closing up for the night.

“It’s amazing, Danny,” Tim tells him, quickly snapping a picture with his phone before he takes a sip. His eyelashes flutter as he savors the flavor, this one is the original Batman theme coffee that Heart Attack discontinued.

Danny found the receipt in an older binder while doing inventory. Tim had tackled him in an enthusiastic hug the second he tried it and recognized the familiar taste.

“Thanks.” He blushes, trying not to notice that the bubbles have shifted slightly, resembling hearts instead of circles. Moving his eyes away from where the foam disappears into Tim’s lips, Danny mentally kicks himself for being weird about his fake boyfriend’s drinking.

He picks up the mug lid on the counter, turning it around in his hands while Tim takes another quick sip. There is some leftover steam milk on his lips when he pulls away, and the colorful seahorse is gone now. His core pulses, making a shiver run down his spine as Tim’s pink tongue darts out to lick away the teal green.

Danny coughs again as frost gathers on his back. Thank goodness he can feel it on his skin, which means it likely hasn’t passed through his comfortable sweater. He hasn’t told Tim about his powers, and he isn’t sure he wants to.

Gotham is an anti-meta city. Tim was as Gotham as they came. He can’t stand the thought of his roommate growing to hate him, especially for something that wasn’t precisely meta, but was the closest thing he was.

He leans forward, carefully sealing the mug. This was one of Tim’s favorites among his collectible mugs, primarily because it could shift into a traveling beverage holder.

Tim smiles at him. “I’m heading out then. See you tomorrow.” 

“Bye, stay safe,” Danny tells him to walk him to the front door. He stands there, feeling like he’s waiting for something to happen. But he isn’t entirely sure what that is, so all he does is lean against the wall as Tim slips on his running shoes, juggling his drink, phone, and bag. Danny smiles warmly when Tim raises his mug at him in a fast toast before he slips through the door, leaving their apartment with a soft “Sleep well, Danny.”

The wood of their door seals shut without a sound- apparently, the rich didn’t believe in noise because everything in the apartment was somehow soundproof. Tim moved like a shadow, rarely making a sound. Danny, by comparison, sounded like a bull in a china shop.

Once, when Danny apologized, Tim laughed.

“I like it, " he said while lounging in the hot tub on the balcony. Danny was on the other side, the warm water doing wonders for the frost forming at the bottom of his feet.  Thankfully, the water hid it from Tim’s sight. “It’s like you breathe life into the apartment with your noise.”

“Stay safe,” Danny says to the empty apartment. “Come home tomorrow.”

He rubs his face and figures he should head to be. It was ten at night, but Tim clarified that he wouldn’t return anytime soon. He’s tired from the previous three nights when he waited for Tim to come home. Thankfully, his shifts had been moved to the afternoon, so it didn’t mean much if Danny stayed up until three am for his roommate.

He strides by his piano, running his hand along the closed case of the keys without seeing it, for his gaze is locked on the city that glows under his window. It’s been nearly a month, and he’s still not used to the view of Gotham from this height. The penthouse towers over most of Gotham, and the city seems beautiful from up here. A Decorative lie of the danger that waited in the wake of anyone down on their luck.

This place was like a Siren. Beautiful and alluring until its claws and teeth dug into someone’s skin, dragging them to the darkest depths where no one could hear their screams. He prays that whatever Tim is involved doesn’t let Gotham swallow him whole.

 Danny’s fingers accidentally come upon cloth, making him snap his chin down to see what had been placed on the wood and blink at the side of Tim’s discarded sleeping long-sleeve shirt. His roommate peeled it off earlier tonight when he wanted to walk around in his shirt sleeve and flung it somewhere to take a quick nap before he left.

His fingers close around the fabric, slowly bringing it up to his face, breathing in Tim’s distinctive scent mixed with the soft lavender of his fabric softener. Danny hesitates for only a few seconds before taking off his sweater and slips on Tim’s long sleeve, allowing himself to find comfort in the familiar scent surrounding him.

He lets his sweater pool on the floor in the living room as he wanders to his room, crashing under his blankets and pressing the fabric of Tim’s clothes to his face. Eventually, he is lured to sleep, dreaming of playing in Gotham’s largest theater, hands flying over the keys at a skill level he does not possess. He moves with the music, uncaring that the seats are empty except for one.

That one belongs to Tim, who watches him perform with the same tenderness as his latte art inspired, but instead of a drink, Danny’s music causes that expression.

It’s the best dream he had in a long while.

As he dreams, he is unaware of the figure checking in on him, hanging from a grabbing hook near his window. The figure smiles when its white lens notices how Danny is curled up in a ball before it zips to the roof, their cap flaring behind them.

When they land, they reach up to link on their com "Red Robin reporting for duty. Where is Dr. Freeze's last known location? I want him caught tonight."

"Good night to you, too," Oracle responds. "Any particular reason we're in such a hurry for the capture of Dr. Freeze."

"He's making it hard for the hard-working people of Gotham to work," He huffs, knowing the rest of the bats will correctly link his complaint to his roommate.

There is a loaded pause before Red Hood grunts. "I got good news for you then. Dr. Freeze has spotted this very afternoon. Meet up at Heart Attack by Crime Alley to compare notes in an hour."

"I'm on my way."

[veerbles]

Pynch Fic Rec Wrap-Up

35 fics you would be doing yourself a favor by reading. divided into 5 (+1) neat categories for your convenience.

GOATs

the best to ever (ever ever) do it.

Free as a Bird by pinkhorizon rating: M | wc: 31k (10 chapters) | musician au this fic is at the very top of this top tier list not because my heart was pounding and I was giggling and teary-eyed and overwhelmed and emotional throughout it - although it's all true; but because I obsessed over it non-stop for a week after reading it, and still think about it with alarming frequency. this is, truly and embarrassingly, my roman empire. if you ever read an au from this fandom, please dear lord: let it be this one.

Ronan is the lead guitarist of the Ravens, and Adam is a roadie. Romance ensues.

Friends We Keep by pinkhorizon rating: M | wc: 56k (10 chapters) | non-magical future this section of the list only has three recs, and this is the second one by pinkhorizon. this is not by mistake. in this case, ronan and adam are occasionally friends with benefits but continuously deeply in love; this fic gives you the kind of good pain that puts a lump in your throat but keeps you so, so hopeful for that happy ending because it earns it. for bonus points, it deals with mental health issues and trauma and just all the heavy stuff from canon in a truly superb way.

Adam doesn’t know what he wants, and Ronan wants whatever he can have.

Fall Back by flightspath rating: E | wc: 14k (6 chapters) | college au unlike free as a bird, I didn't fall into obsession with this fic immediately. I read it once and enjoyed it, found myself craving a reread shockingly soon thereafter, and loved it more and more each time. I only noticed how special it was when I easily passed the 10+ rereads. much like adam and ronan in this fic, friends with benefits whose feelings creep up upon, my deep pure love for this fic creeped up on me.

Adam, at the library, scanning books with a pen behind his ear. Adam, trudging across the quad in the snow. A recurring dream, all throughout fall semester, a bright spot in Ronan’s days.

Canon Compliant

* compliant with the original series; I tend to ignore td3's existence.

Of Being the Tenders of Gardens by shaenie rating: E | wc: 85k it's honestly beyond my comprehension how this fic isn't its own classic in this fandom, if only for its arguably unparalleled focus on the magic system and adam's powers and the connection to cabeswater. in short, it's a post-canon take on adam and ronan trying to bring cabeswater back, but not by dreaming a new one.

It's Adam Ronan takes to what he thinks might be a remnant of Cabeswater first.

Rock Me Like by zephfair / @zephfair rating: E | wc: 6k I read many fics about different aspects of adam and ronan cohabiting during the summer after high school, but I specifically liked how this fic alludes to their different upbringing in the more practical ways.

When bad weather threatens the Barns, Adam does his best to take care of his loved ones.

negative capability by smileymikey / @smileymikey rating: G | wc: 3k the general consensus is that these two find it easier to communicate through touch than through words, so I really liked how this tackles the way touch may present its own issues as well.

If Adam were poetic, he and Ronan would be spinning planets, constantly drawn together by gravity and the sheer power of the universe, sometimes aligning so they would be both at the furthest points of their orbits at the same time with millions of miles of emptiness and dust between them, but sometimes aligning so they would be at the other edge of their orbits, hovering inches away from one another, the dust between ionised and pulsing with tension. But he’s not. So they’re just assholes.

lavender and burning skin by deathlessaphrodite rating: E | wc: 8k very early in their relationship, spending time in the barns with the lynch brothers and fumbling around sex and communication the way god intended.

To: Adam Parrish From: Ronan Lynch Subject: (no subject) come round tonight? not if you’re working obv r. Adam stared at the email for several seconds before he could even begin to comprehend it. Ronan Lynch and email did not belong in the same sentence.

Between Eternities by BeautifulSoup / @thebeautifulsoup rating: T | wc: 12k (10 chapters) actually fucking brilliant vignettes of moments from the year after trk ended.

The world is waiting for them. Not the world they saved last night, but the other one. The solid, undreamt and undreamlike world of Aglionby and Ganseys.

Wringing Out the Hours by quietcoast / @sentimentalspiders rating: T | wc: 8k one of the very few future fics which gave me that exactly-right feeling.

It felt irresponsible to leave. He had willed the thought away, and breathed in the sleep-sweat of Ronan’s neck instead. He thought about the scratch of Ronan’s jaw, and the soft fury of his mouth. He thought about how far into the drive his first exit would be. He thought about Opal, who had hidden herself in the enthusiastic buttonbush that grew alongside the house; she had taken to crouching there whenever it looked like Adam and Ronan were doing things related to Leaving, and had gnawed an entire branch clean. She watched them as they swayed and whispered, and Adam had thought she would stay in the bush and not come see him at all, but he was wrong: at the last minute she had been unable to stand it, and had burst out to wrap herself around his legs. It was impossible to leave them. He had gotten in the car.

The hang of being alive again by Goshen (applecrumbledore) / @goshen-applecrumbledore rating: E | wc: 13k I can say with a good amount of authority that I've read every single iteration of immediately-post-canon pynch, and every single take on their first time, and this is just the most heart-stopping and disarming and gorgeously written one of them all.

Falling for Ronan had felt like going to speak at the same time as someone else after a long silence, two people bumbling over their words to say, no, sorry, go ahead before one of them says what they were going to say.

Roses in Between My Thighs by orphan_account (*) rating: E | wc: 6k I marked this with an asterisk because technically speaking, it's not canon compliant - it was written before the series was completed. but its grasp on the characters is so good that it's honestly impossible to tell it wasn't written post-trk, so I'm counting it.

Four things that could have ruined them but didn't.

Canon Divergence/Non-Magical

where the setting is close enough to the original universe, with minor changes.

Never Knock by burn_it_slow / @burn-it-slow rating: E | wc: 28k | non-magical adam goes off to college and unintentionally loses touch with his best friend ronan, all the while realizing he's in love with him. a summer later they meet again. also: all the emails adam never sent, but probably should have.

“We good here?” Ronan sweeps a knuckle across his lower lip and glares at Adam as if daring him to say something about… any of this whole situation. Whether it’s the destroyed car, the forgotten phone number, or the gratuitous kiss from a super hot dude with an expensive motorcycle, Adam can’t exactly determine.

A Strange and Complicated Thing by ungoodpirate / @ungoodgatsby rating: T | wc: 39k (12 chapters) | non-magical a retelling of select parts of a non-magical canon if adam and ronan started sneaking around to hook up first and became friends and boyfriends later - with a slow and excellent build of emotional intimacy.

Didn’t Adam Parrish deserve nice things? Didn’t Adam Parrish deserve to be pushed against the back wall of Boyd’s and be kissed like he was addictive by a boy who had the cheekbones of a model? Didn’t he deserve hands grasping at his waist with an eagerness to be held close that Adam had never known? Adam Parrish didn’t have many nice things in his life, and he wasn’t going to question this one that had happened unanticipated this one random, Saturday afternoon.

every dream i've ever had has been of myself by cloverspies / @parrishh rating: T | wc: 8k a different version of how their first kiss could've gone that literally had me breathless and kicking my feet.

Chasing down a mysterious address left behind by a dead psychic was much more attainable than getting ice cream, which was all sorts of messed up but also the truest thought Ronan had had all day, so he shifted into reverse and peeled out of the two spots the BMW had been taking up without even bothering to glance at his mirrors. He was already burning rubber, practically drifting around the corner of the parking lot exit, when he asked, "Where to?"

Every Stupid Little Thing by Diana_Dreams / @diana-dreams rating: M | wc: 10k a canon-divergence vaguely placed in the timeline in which floundering teenagers struggle through expressing their emotions. more importantly, this has a first kiss car scene that still lives rent free in my brain.

Courting. Jesus. It sounds like an awful joke. Parrishs don't court. They get girls knocked up and beat the shit out of the people they're supposed to love.

Alternate Universe

A Moment in Time by pinkhorizon rating: M | wc: 132k (20 chapters) falling in love, getting together, breaking up, pining, getting back together, all crafted by pinkhorizon's masterful hand. if you're still not convinced to read all of their works: why, and also, do.

Ronan likes being alone. Adam's looking for summer work.

(i’ll clean up) the mess that you are by ecoterrorism / @bartskull rating: M | wc: 5k there's just something about baseball au's and soulmatism.

It will work because Adam willed it so. Even when Ronan doubts God, he still knows better than to doubt this.

go running by thesehands / @ahotknife rating: E | wc: 72k (5 chapters) emotionally unavailable rich professional adam starts having kinky sex with his co-worker's brother ronan and somehow convinces himself there are no feelings involved. then it blows up in his face.

most of the time, ronan takes his crucifix off when they have sex. sometimes, he doesn't. sometimes, adam thinks he might be ready for a relationship. most of the time, he doesn’t.

light by paintedpolarbear rating: T | wc: 3k a paramedic au with the tangible sort of attraction that makes you want to read meet-cutes in the first place.

When the tones drop at four in the morning, Adam briefly entertains the fantasy of rolling over and getting more sleep. Then he puts his boots on.

seek ye the living by charactershoes / @charactershoesfic rating: T | wc: 40k (9 chapters) a fleabag au that I enjoyed with all my whole ass self despite committing the cardinal sin of not really enjoying fleabag. this deals with grief and religion and god-slash-magic and purpose versus autonomy in a way that changed my interpretation of trc forevermore.

Ronan says, “What’s the church’s stance on fratricide?” “Frowned upon,” says the almost-priest. He’s got a remote, orphan-eyed face like something off a prayer card, but his voice is as Henrietta as cicada song. “Although there’s precedent.”

gets late early by charactershoes / @charactershoesfic rating: G | wc: 18k I've already made my point about baseball au's and soulmatism, so let me add this: there is just something about authentic depictions of teenage boys and their repressed emotions. also, like, essentially everything by this author is gold.

That year, Ronan was Declan Lynch’s Little Brother, The Kid With The Dead Dad. That year Adam Parrish was The Public School Kid. That year Adam Parrish was God’s Gift To Southpaws. That year they went to the league championship and blew it badly. Next year, Ronan was Academically Ineligible. Next year, Adam Parrish was gone. Now, Ronan is a senior and starting catcher on the Aglionby Ravens. Now, Adam is back on the clubhouse bench, tightening the ragged laces on his cleats.

A stillness at once awful and sublime by Wisteria_Leigh / @purrincesscatitude rating: T | wc: 18k adam experiences a crisis and applies to be a fire lookout on an isolated mountaintop in montana. this is a truly remarkable lesson in interweaving canon into a completely alternate setting, which manages to be both beautiful and poignant.

It’s a momentary lapse of emotional regulation, if one is generous. An absolute fucking meltdown, if one is honest. When Adam comes back into his body, he’s lying on his bed, empty styrofoam staining his duvet with red chili oil, blank-eyed scrolling through his LinkedIn feed of job openings at Harley-Davidson for motorcycle engineers. He doesn’t want to work for Harley; he’s got brand loyalty to Honda. Also, being a mechanic again would be backsliding, and he is absolutely, most certainly, not backsliding. No, he just needs a sabbatical. A break from reality. Something temporary. Remote. Far from Virginia. Then he sees it: "Fire lookout."

The Course of Certain Stars by quietcoast / @sentimentalspiders rating: T | wc: 9k truly an exemplary take on adam's characterization and the existence of demons and the catholic church.

Once upon a time, Adam Parrish had not - if you’ll pardon him - given a good God damn about God or the devil. At eleven, Adam took for granted that praying did not mean an answered prayer. At twelve, he understood that devil was just another word for the man who lived in his house and shared his eye color. At thirteen, Adam realized that, actually, he was fucking wrong, that the devil was literal and maybe so was God. He knew this because one day, a demon crept into his parents’ trailer. As an adult, unmaking the rules of good and evil consumed Adam Parrish. Proving his experience was the undercurrent to everything he did. That was why it was so absolutely fucked up that when he did finally encounter a demon for the second time, he wasn’t even trying to do it.

Careful the Tale You Tell by shinealightonme rating: T | wc: 26k (4 chapters) if there's one thing I like, it's trope subversion. this had that misty, fairytale-like grimms vibe and incredible relationship development, but more notably, it managed to not be at all what I was expecting.

Ronan makes a deal with a witch. It's okay, though. He'll never have to go through with his end of the bargain.

This Is Canon To Me

a collection of short fics-turned-headcanons that you could not pry from my cold dead hands.

How To Train Your Fire-Breathing Reptile by pinkhorizon rating: T | wc: 1k if you weren't hoping for this during the end of tdt, idk what is up with you.

If you asked Adam, Ronan's latest dreamthing is absolutely not a dragon. (If you asked Ronan, it totally is.)

worship by ssstrychnine / @oneangryshot rating: T | wc: 1k do you ever remember that ronan canonically worships adam like his god. because I sure do.

ronan dreams stained glass.

oreos and peanut butter by lizpaige / @lizpaige rating: G | wc: 1k this is actually bronan in a pynch disguise, and I fully mean that in a complimentary way.

Adam shows up at Monmouth after work and Gansey is breathing into a paper bag while Blue pierces Ronan's ear with a sewing needle and an apple Parent Trap style.

Dog Days by cheeryos / @cheeeryos rating: T | wc: 1.5k I legitimately wondered about this while reading trb and was sad it never came up again.

Ronan picks up a surprise for Adam.

Unfold Me by cherishadamparrish / @cherishadamparrish rating: N/A | wc: 1k the idea of ronan pulling embarrassingly mushy things out of his dreams, especially after they have sex, is so important to me (you can also find this scenario referenced in another fic on this list, and it's great both times).

The entire bedspread was covered in a canvas of rose petals.

like a dog with a bird by charactershoes rating: G | wc: 3k so many attempts have been made at what this conversation would be like, but none have stuck with me quite as much as this one, so this is the Canon one to me.

The bruises at Ronan’s neck are fading, the pools of dark green and purple dispersing. Adam knows intimately the phases of a bruise, how the brutal press of fingers washes out dingy and yellow. Still, if he looks, he can discern where his nails bit in, where his thumbs pressed hard against Ronan’s windpipe.  “I’m sorry,” he says. His hands shiver.  “Don’t start,” Ronan says.

out of the dark day, into the brighter night by York / @ellipsesetcetera rating: G | wc: 4k I always wished we'd seen more of their st. agnes sleepovers and their burgeoning friendship moments.

"Blink and you'll miss it. I'm not doing this shit all night, so when it does happen, don't be fucking daydreaming and gripe about it later like some —" "I won't miss it," Adam promised. "It's not a circus act." "Ronan. I won't miss it."

Honorary Mentions

made me laugh / surprised me somehow.

i told the moon about you by broyals rating: T | wc: N/A (10 chapters) mixed media fic, told through fake social media images

ronan lynch and adam parrish grew up together on the set of the strange case of jane armstrong, and as their careers took very different paths the media couldn’t help but compare them every step of the way, creating a rivalry that wasn’t quite there. as they accidentally feed into the rumors, they must now get along publicly to dispel them, and get to know each other once again.

vanitas vanitatum, omnia (pro Adam) by JayJEx rating: T | wc: 11k in a truly unhinged post-canon universe that somehow almost feels plausible, ronan becomes instagram famous.

“You can’t really blame him,” Ronan hears Adam shifting on the other end of the call, like he’s moving into a more comfortable position. “You’re using your phone. Willingly. That’s gotta be, like, a sign of the apocalypse, or something.”

should've left my phone at home ('cause this is a disaster) by shinealightonme rating: T | wc: 4.5k the only thing you need to know is that I laughed out loud through the vast majority of this fic.

Most of the interesting customers that Adam meets are terrible interesting rather than fun interesting. The hot guy who can't keep a cell phone alive might be both.

[bucketbueckers]

I'D RATHER PRETEND

CHAPTER TWO

tags: @angryflowerwitch @avvwritesstufff @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @bueckersg1rl @l0verl4ne @clouded-whispers @dolliest-thena @katemartinlvr @numberonepartyanth3m @glamourdaya | lmk if you want to be added! wc: 7.6k notes: check masterlist for content warnings! honestly a pretty lowkey chap but it's strictly business 🧐 thank you for the love on chapter 1 🫶 i fear this chap and the next couple of parts are slow-ish but i've reread this literally a million times and im sick of it so what do i actually know. no beta we die like brian thompson

'Bueckers and Kennedy, Two Dynasties, Both Alike in Dignity'

College basketball fans are excited for what appears to be the end of the "Tess Kennedy Destruction Tour." After a quiet few days, the South Carolinian guard took to social media where she shared a photo of her and a faceless individual meeting for coffee. The Instagram story was captioned "and a new day will bring about the dawn," a lyric from Frank Ocean's "Sierra Leone." Supporters interpreted this as Kennedy's recovery journey taking a positive turn, but the song lyric was not the star of the show.

Fans were quick to point out the identity of the individual was not as hidden as it seemed. Kennedy's companion was wearing two notable necklaces - one with a silver cross and one with a studded #5. The phone case in camera was also purple with a wallet attached to the back. One commenter pointed out there was a University of Connecticut student ID poking out, and after review, we believe that much is true.

Early speculation declared Kennedy's friend was none other than Paige Bueckers, the star point guard for the University of Connecticut Huskies. Then, roughly an hour after Kennedy's post, Bueckers herself took to her Instagram where she shared a photo of her holding an icepack to someone's left knee. Both Bueckers and the mystery individual are faceless; however, fans noted Bueckers's companion was wearing a silver bracelet with familiar charms and a #25, Kennedy's jersey number.

All of the signs point to Bueckers and Kennedy spending time together, although nothing has been confirmed officially. One fan noted that Bueckers tore her own ACL the year prior, believing that Bueckers flew out to South Carolina to lend a supportive hand to Kennedy amidst her own recovery and hardships. Whether or not this is simply two friends rehabbing together or the most obvious soft launch in basketball history, sports fans are united on two things: Tess Kennedy is beginning to take her recovery seriously, and Paige Bueckers might just be the guardian angel people were calling for.

-Penelope Lancaster, Bleacher Report

MAY 3, 2023

“So, lemme get this straight.”

Tess hums around a mouthful of Chipotle, feeling lighter than she has in weeks. Kamilla and Bree returned to their apartment roughly a half hour earlier and immediately put Tess on the hot seat. Once she made it through her countless apologies and explanations with minimal interruptions, she gave Kam and Bree the green light to ask their questions, and it seemed as though they had plenty.

Kam raises her fingers as she lists off the recent happenings of Tess’s life. “Because you went off a bender–” Tess frowns at the way it’s phrased, “–Amaya is forcing you into mandatory PT, therapy, and a shit ton of PR. Honestly, about fucking time.” Bree snorts, although some of the worry leaves her body. “If all it took was tough love, I woulda been meaner to your ass a month ago.”

“Don’t think it would have had the intended effect,” Tess concedes thoughtfully. She pushes around her rice and chicken, shoveling a pepper in her mouth. “I wasn’t really in a listening mood back then.”

Bree raises a brow. “And you were today?”

The injured guard shrugs a shoulder. “Well, when your manager tells you that your brand deals are about to cut their contracts, and you’re at risk for losing your basketball scholarship for behavior and academic reasons, and you’re slowly killing yourself…that kind of puts things into perspective.”

Kamilla nods solemnly. “And the Paige situation.”

Tess almost flushes under their scrutinizing gaze. She hasn’t forgotten. She has Paige’s receipt tucked into the pocket of her pants, unwilling to throw it away but also feeling weirdly vulnerable for wanting to keep it. It wasn’t a huge gesture by any means. Paige doing PT with her was objectively more intimate than buying her lunch, but the mere idea of Paige saying goodbye to her and sitting in an Uber trying to figure out what Tess likes in her Chipotle bowl is just fucking insane. “Guess I’m not single anymore…so, yay?”

“You’re taking this a lot better than I expected,” Kamilla admits hesitantly. Tess clocks the concern in her expression, like she’s thinking about her next step if she wakes up tomorrow and Tess is back to her old ways. That thought alone makes guilt squeeze at Tess’s heart.

Tess sighs. “It was like a wake up call,” she says after a moment. “Like those stupid ice baths Coach makes us do in recovery.” Kamilla and Bree crack a small smile at the joke. “To me, it was just easier to self-destruct than to let something else kill me. Basketball’s more than a sport to me – it’s my purpose, right? So after I heard I might not be able to play again, I just…let myself sink. And, Christ, people were so cruel online.” Tess huffs out something like a laugh, her throat tight with pain. “It’s funny ‘cause it never bothered me before, but… I just wanted to forget. I wanted them to hurt like I hurt. It was too easy to give into that.” The silence rings out in the living room as Tess searches for her next words. “I don’t think all hope is lost. Today helped me understand that a little better. So, I’m gonna try. I’m just fucking terrified it’s all going to be for nothing, that my knee’s never going to get better and I’m going to put myself through so much pain for a what if.”

“Okay, what if you never play again, but, God, Tess, what if you do?” Kamilla says slowly. “What if you do everything right and you get better and you can play with us again in March? I want that for you. We want that for you. Do you want that for you?”

“I mean, of course–”

“Then do it!” Kamilla exclaims, voice cracking. Tess blinks at her owlishly. She’s never seen Kamilla like this, ever, wide-eyed and desperate. It’s a near 180 shift from the girl she’s spent the last 30 minutes talking to, a complete and total shift from the girl who she’s shared an apartment with for two years. “Please, Tess. Do the PT, your therapy, get back on track; whatever it fucking takes, Tess, you need to do it. We miss you. On and off the court. I know it’s not about me, but watching you throw yourself away like that was the worst thing I’d ever witnessed, especially because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get through to you. I thought I was going to lose my best friend!”

Tess’s jaw falls open as the sudden realization of how badly she’s fucked up dawns on her for the second time that day. “Kam,” she tries, her throat tightening with emotion. The taller woman wipes her eyes, taking in a shuddering breath. Kamilla was never one to be mean, no matter how upset she was – that was a trait of hers that made her such a good leader and role model on the court. She was big on accountability and ensuring that past mistakes would never happen again. Seeing all of the emotion she kept under tight lock and key because she knew she needed to be strong for Tess (even before Tess was aware that she needed someone to be strong for her) is unbelievably sobering.

When Tess and Kamilla first met, they almost instantly knew they would be each other’s best friend. They were alike in so many ways – they were fierce competitors and proud haters of The Office; they bonded over shared struggles of not quite knowing what home was and being just a little too different from everyone else. Tess isn’t sure where she would be without Kamilla. She always prayed she’d never have to find out, but the idea that she nearly subjected Kamilla to finding out where she’d be without Tess feels both arduous and damning.

“Kam,” Tess says again, her mind reeling. “I’m so sorry – I’m so fucking sorry. If I could do it all over again, I would. I’m trying. It’s so hard but I’m trying.”

“I know,” Kamilla says, nodding rapidly. Bree is unnaturally quiet, glancing between the two of them with a conflicted expression. Sure, the three of them shared an apartment, but the bond between Tess and Kamilla exceeded friendship; they were like sisters. Bree knew that and it never bothered her. Now it seems as though she’s unsure where to stand, but she understands that this is a much-needed conversation that Tess and Kamilla need to have. “I know, Tess, I’m just – I’m glad you understand it now. Just… please, please let us help you. Don’t shut us out.”

“I won’t,” Tess vows. “I can’t promise I’m going to be at 100%, but fuck, I’m going to try.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Kamilla concedes.

The living room is quiet for a long while until Bree shifts uncomfortably. “So… PT and mental health counseling, those I understand,” she says. “I’m still a little lost on why fake dating Paige is good for your reputation. Rumors are rumors but…it’s giving new flavor of the week.”

“It’s not like that,” Tess argues, a little too defensively. Bree raises a brow and Tess immediately flushes. She’s not sure why that jab at Paige felt personal. She made a similar jab only a few hours ago. But it wasn’t her business to judge. People have their own reasons to do what they do, right? “Well, she said it wasn’t like that,” she amends, which sounds objectively worse. Tess frowns, wishing she’d just kept quiet.

“Hey, I’m just saying.” Bree raises her hand in surrender. “It’s her vice, right? Her free time is her own, but I mean, she’s Paige Bueckers. It’s easy to get caught up in her. I just don’t want you becoming another notch on her bedpost, even if you’re just fake dating her to make people forget you’re on Twitter restriction.”

Tess wrinkles her nose. “My account is unbanned now, thank you very much,” she deflects, but Kamilla’s knowing expression has her redirecting. “I understand what you guys mean, but you don’t have to worry about that. We’re strictly business.” Bree grins wryly, huffing out something akin to laughter that sounds vaguely like, ‘that’s what they all say.’

“Was the Chipotle strictly business?” Bree asks.

Tess’s face is a perfect picture of confusion, but her heart thrums a little faster at the insinuation. What could she possibly know about that? “What does Chipotle have to do with anything?” she asks casually.

Bree’s smirk widens. “You never order bowls. It’s always a burrito with you.”

“I’m trying something new!”

“Yeah, new like a six-foot blonde hooper–”

Kamilla and Bree break out into howling laughter as Tess buries her head in her hands, blushing again. “Oh, my God. You guys are the fucking worst.”

And, sure – the joke is at Tess’s expense, but she can’t help but feel like everything is aligning once more, that they’re returning to the way they once were pre-injury. She expected that it would have taken her a lot more groveling to earn back their favor. Tess was a huge jerk to them – the more she thinks about what she’d likely said to them under the haze of several shots of tequila, the more she wishes she could take it all back and do it over again. She tore her ACL, a season ending injury for many athletes, and for a smaller few, it changed the course of their careers drastically. Tess wants to find it within herself to have some grace, to understand why she behaved the way she did, but now that she sees it with a clearer mind, she can’t help but be disgusted by herself.

For Kamilla and Bree, it’s probably all water under the bridge. They’re kind people like that, perhaps too kind after the way Tess treated them. Maybe the real gotcha! moment is the idea that Tess didn’t need to earn back their favor, anyhow. Sometimes friendship just works like that – it’s confusing and a great risk, but most times that risk pays off. Sometimes friendship just is, accepting a mistake and trusting that it wouldn’t happen again.

Feeling lighter than she has in weeks, Tess retires to her room for some much needed rest after a long day. She lights a candle, settling against her headboard and adjusting the pillow cushioning her knee. Deciding to face the music sooner rather than later, she begins combing through her mountain of notifications and unread DMs. The apology from Caitlin is touching. Tess feels an odd mix of guilt and appreciation as she drafts out her overdue response: “thank you for checking in, been a rough couple weeks. the injury is not your fault but trust that SC will pick your pockets next year!!!” Caitlin’s own response is swift – a simple 'Bring it on' that Tess can’t help but smile at.

She sends similar responses to some of Caitlin’s teammates and the other college players who reached out. She even had a couple of pros expressing their condolences, which honestly shocked Tess. There was Napheesa Collier, Sabrina Ionescu, and A’ja Wilson – A’ja’s DM made Tess’s Gamecock heart beat just a little faster. She was basically South Carolina royalty. Having that kind of support in her corner fills her with an insurmountable confidence.

Her last post on Instagram was a collection of pictures following their Elite Eight win. The sight of herself from a month ago, healthy and glowing, nearly made her thumb falter as she flicked through the images. It was a simple dump – a couple of action shots, a fierce one of Tess celebrating, one of her setting up for a deep three. It was captioned “nowhere else i’d rather be.” That much was still true. She’s pushed it to the recesses of her mind, but instinctually, she can feel the deep ache and the yearn to get back on the court, even though her knee hardly lets her sleep through the night most of the time.

Her eyes fall to the comments. She knows she shouldn’t look at them. She’s practically memorized each and every single one of them. Her teammates’ comments live at the top, celebrating the win with her; under them, there are newer ones from South Carolina fans, offering prayers and support, confident in their belief that Tess will bounce back from this. She can’t help herself from reading the hate comments, either. Her eyes catch on one in particular. Their username isn’t particularly memorable, but it reads, ‘Upsetting to see how Tess has responded to a normal injury for athletes. It’s shameful that South Carolina has let this go on for so long. Grow up!’ 

Well, he’s not wrong. Tess’s response was a pretty terrible one and Amaya herself admitted that they made a mistake in handling the situation. Frankly, he should be proud that Tess has grown up! If she read that comment a week ago, she probably would have crashed out. The thought alone makes Tess crack the slightest of smiles. Before she can keep reading, a text message from an unknown number pops up at the top of her screen, inadvertently saving her from a doom scroll.

Yo How’d I do on lunch? It’s Paige btw

Tess fights the warmth she feels in her chest. Honestly, she would have guessed that it was Paige from the ego she can identify through the screen alone, but she saves her contact regardless.

i’m afraid to admit i prefer burritos but the bowl was a 9/10

Paige’s response is swift.

9 cause I’m the 1 you need?

Tess rolls her eyes.

9 bc there was too much pico and bc the girl who ordered it flirts like a 12 year old

That’s insane You KNOW I have better game than that

you have no rizz, just blue eyes and a bunch of nil money like joe burrow if he was a hey mamas lesbian

Gonna ignore that hey mamas comment just cause I fuck with Joe Burrow The Bengals don’t have nothing on my Vikings though

i think i just got the ick im not gonna lie

Are you a football hater???

i don’t watch men’s sports at all i try to protect my peace

Pause So no Lebron???

ok well obviously i’ve watched the NBA

You scared me Don’t say that shit again

why are you so high maintenance

Why are you so mean

someone has to keep you in check settling down, remember?

I think you could be a little nicer!

hmmm i’ll consider ok i decided no

Just plain evil

i need to get my kicks in early if im stuck with you again on friday

You invited me???

i don’t think that’s how that happened

Pretty sure that’s exactly how that happened Paige please come to PT with me 🥺 Please Paige

ok now you’re just being delusional i see how you’re forgetting the whole ‘tess let me buy your coffee 🥺please tess’

Chilllll Did your doctor check you for a concussion after the ACL?? There’s something wrong with your brain

be honest, are you a natural blonde or did you work really hard to be this stupid

Hard work always baby Also, wanted to ask if you wanna come to the airport with me on Saturday, be seen together I fly out at 11:30am so I think it would be good for us The story I mean

you gonna pay for my uber back?

Duh

paige i was kidding

I wasn’t No rizz, just blue eyes and a lot of NIL money, right?

you’re insufferable

So you’ll come?

don’t sound so excited but i will for the story

Of course See you Friday ma 🫶

Tess likes Paige’s message before shutting her phone off with a sigh. She needs a nap.

MAY 5, 2023

Friday arrives after a day and a half of binging 2 Broke Girls, independent physical therapy exercises, and lots of ice packs.

Tess slept like shit Thursday night, though she’s unsure if it’s because of the pain in her knee or because of how badly she wanted to haul her ass to the bar and order a couple of shots to numb the throb. She knew she couldn’t do it, no matter how much she thought she needed it – it was bad enough that she spent half of the night sweating through her shirt and chewing on ice cubes to distract herself from the slow downward spiral of her thoughts. Not addicted, she’d remind herself, nursing a cup with rapidly melting ice as she watched Max and Caroline put themselves in weird ass situations. Psychologically, no. Physically…who knows. Tess certainly doesn’t know what that means, but she’s not addicted, period.

Her first therapy appointment was scheduled for Monday afternoon. She just had to hold out until then. Tess hopes that she would glean something useful from her counselor, but she’s been self aware and independent enough for years that she’s usually good at identifying her problems, though slightly less efficient at figuring out what to do about them. Her typical coping methods included a casual mantra of, ‘Pitbull’s been there, done that,’ and running a couple of drills in the quiet of the gym. And, sure – it sounds weird, but the idea that she’s not the only person facing an issue is comforting enough that she wonders if it’s even that deep. It works most of the time and she’s able to shrug it off. She will admit there’s an eventual crash out one way or the other, but she prefers one big explosion over a series of small, ill-timed ones.

With nothing but time on Thursday night, her Google search history consisted of queries such as how long does it take to establish alcohol dependence and symptoms of alcohol withdrawals. Then, around 3am, she got distracted and switched over to TikTok where she scrolled through edits of herself, but that’s less important. She learned that establishing alcohol dependence usually varies from person to person (Tess hates when something ‘depends;’ why can’t there ever be a straight answer?). It’s less clear if she’s officially ‘addicted,’ but she will concede that after a month of heavy drinking, there’s a little something there. Which isn’t ideal, of course, but hopefully it’s mild at the least. It was only a month and people intervened early…ish – maybe if she sticks to recovery then she should be good and clear within a couple weeks at the most.

Google also informed her of the several symptoms of withdrawals, which usually set in anywhere from six to twenty-four hours after going cold-turkey on the drinks. The withdrawals explained, obviously, the need to ransack the liquor store, but also the restlessness, the slight headache she was nursing for the past twenty-four hours, and the perpetual stomach ache she couldn’t seem to get rid of.

She had some answers. So, things were looking up!

…At least they were until she got the call from Amaya at 9:30 as she was struggling to eat a bagel. Google also mentioned a loss of appetite, which Tess was less than happy about. Much like everything else about her recovery, she would have to force herself into doing a lot of things that her body didn’t want her to do. She’d get used to it. She lets her phone ring for a short moment before she sighs, accepting the call and putting it on speaker, greeting Amaya.

“Good morning, Tess!” Amaya chirps, unusually chipper. The basketball player immediately frowns, brows furrowing.

“You get laid?” she asks, unsure of what else Amaya could be happy about in her life.

She can almost hear Amaya’s eye roll from across the line. “No, not that it’s any of your business, though.”

“Boo.”

“Anyways, back to business.” Amaya clears her throat. Tess can hear the slight shuffle of papers. “So, I really liked what you and Paige did, soft-launch wise. The press is eating it up and so far, both of your brand deals are seeing a slight surge in activity. I’m guessing people are flocking to your accounts for raunchy details and seeing you advertise, um, really cool make up products and homework help.” Tess huffs out a laugh at that. “Good job. Also, Craig let me know you showed up to PT as scheduled on Wednesday and did really well. He said you and Paige worked really well together–”

“Stop,” Tess says, listening to the sound of Amaya’s smug laugh. “Don’t insinuate anything.”

“I’m not insinuating anything!” Amaya says defensively and Tess cracks a smile. “So, we just need you and Paige to keep up what you’re doing. Do the small things for a couple of weeks, then hard-launch. We’re going to give you guys most of the control over that. We want it to seem more authentic and less like two PR agencies trying to salvage their clients’ images.”

“Of course,” Tess says innocently. “She’s coming to PT today. Then I’m going with her to the airport tomorrow.”

Amaya sighs dreamily. “You’re such a wonder to work with when you’re being cooperative.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Tess grumbles, giving up on the bagel and tossing it in the trash.

“Alright, one more thing,” Amaya continues, “then I’ll let you go.” Tess hums. “I need you to draft an apology to post on your socials – and I know, it sounds corny, but–”

“You don’t need to explain why,” Tess interrupts softly. “I got it. I fucked up and I made a huge mess. I’ll email that to you Saturday night.”

Amaya is quiet for a moment, contemplative. “Thank you, Tess. And, hey, how are you feeling?”

Tess doesn’t answer for a beat, considering keeping her thoughts to herself, but she reminds her promise to Kamilla to not shut anyone out, so she sighs. “Um, not gonna lie, I didn’t sleep at all last night,” she admits. “My knee hurt and I really wanted to drink – but I didn’t! I binge watched TV and ate ice cubes. Probably not the best thing I could have done but it was all I had to work with.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Amaya says gently. “It’s gonna be hard for a while, especially when your injury is still new and fresh and you’re all over the place mentally. I’m proud of how you handled it, even if you think you could have done better. Don’t forget you can call that counselor, okay? She’s available at all hours for you.”

“I don’t wanna be a bother–”

“It’s her job,” Amaya states, before adding in a more mother-hen tone, “but she also requested to work with you specifically because this issue is close to her and she really wants to help you. So if you need help, call her. Got it?”

Tess blinks back the impending tears. “Yeah. Got it.”

“Listen, I’m proud of you, I mean it,” Amaya reiterates. “Thank you for being patient and doing this. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

“Yeah,” Tess says again. “Talk to you soon.”

Amaya hangs up with one final goodbye. Tess presses her head to the cool counter tile and takes a deep breath. She hardly has the time to think before a knock sounds at the apartment door. Already knowing it was Paige, Tess wipes her eyes and slips her crutches under her arms as she slinks towards the door and opens it.

“Mornin!’” Paige greets, far too cheery for barely ten in the morning. She’s holding two cups of coffee in her hands. When Tess glances down, she easily recognizes her coffee order. Then, a frown covers Paige’s face as she walks in and shuts the door behind her. “You good, ma?”

“Just a tough conversation with Amaya,” Tess says as Paige hands her the drink. She takes a long sip, feeling a little more regulated. “Too many feelings.”

Paige smirks at her. “I’m guessin’ she said the same shit my manager called for? ‘Keep up the good work and keep doing couple-y stuff?’”

Tess hums. “More or less. Oh, I also get to publicly apologize, so there’s that.”

The blonde raises a brow as Tess hands back the coffee cup so she can slip into her shoes. “You? Apologize?”

Tess swats her with her crutch, drawing laughter from Paige. “You’re such a jerk. I apologized to you on Wednesday!”

“Yeah, ‘cause you called me a whore,” Paige says with a dramatic pout. “Really hurt my women-respecting feelings.”

“Please walk me to PT and stop talking.”

And Paige does just that. She holds onto both of their coffees as they walk as Tess’s hands are otherwise preoccupied with her crutches. The silence doesn’t last too long before Paige is rambling about all of the questioning she’s getting from her teammates, and Tess can’t help but listen – correction, she has no other choice but to. Paige admits that she doesn’t like keeping secrets from her team, and Tess feels sympathetic enough that she gives Paige the go-ahead to confess their little ruse. Paige’s denial, however, is shockingly mature. “I trust them not to say sum’ maliciously, right? But you never know who’s listening.”

Tess shrugs a shoulder. “If you change your mind, go for it, okay?” she says. “This is our punishment. Don’t wanna fuck up your friendships.”

“S’all good,” Paige says. “Actually, they’re pretty happy about it. Aubrey thinks I’ll play better next season since I ‘got a girl.’”

Tess snorts. “Yeah, you’ll play better until March, then I’ll get cleared to be back on the court and I’ll drop 25 on you.”

Paige wrinkles her nose. “No way, ma. Try 2-point-5. As in 2.5 turnovers every time I guard you.”

Their banter continues until they reach the PT’s office. Craig greets them with an infectious grin and Tess immediately brightens. He helps her take the brace off of her leg and rolls up her pant leg, poking and prodding at her injury. After just a day and a half of actual care, much of the inflammation has reduced.

Craig walks her through some guided exercises, and much to Tess’s silent appreciation, Paige joins them, too. She has a charming smile on her face the entire time, tacking on ridiculous jokes at the absolute worst moments when Tess is out of breath from the stretch and when laughing feels like gasping for air. Paige is strangely helpful. She boosts both Tess’s morale, comforting her in the fact she’s not doing this alone, but she also has a plethora of tips on how to manage the pain and get a better stretch on the exercises. Her hands are warm on Tess’s knee when she adjusts her leg and the way it bends. Craig looks on with an approving nod, though he jokes that Paige is coming for his job, to which Paige huffs, “Tess don’t listen to me.” Tess can only roll her eyes at that, pretending like she doesn’t care about the way Paige’s hands massage the tension out of her leg.

When Craig steps out to grab his wrapping supplies, Paige stretches out her legs and reaches for her phone. “For the gram?” she asks easily, glancing at Tess for permission.

“Don’t call it that,” she grumbles, but nods anyway and pulls out her own phone. “You sound like an old person.”

“You sound like an old person,” Paige mocks, effectively lowering her age by a solid ten years, and Tess rolls her eyes in amusement. She slides a little closer to Tess, reaching for her left leg and draping it over her right one gently, locking their ankles together. “Good?” Tess hums, looking over Paige’s shoulder and throwing a thumbs up into view of the camera. “You’re so unoriginal,” Paige says, but she sticks her free hand in frame and presses her middle and ring fingers to her thumb, raising her index and pinky in the Husky salute.

“That’s basically a hard launch,” Tess says, though she doesn’t really care.

“Everything we do is a hard launch,” Paige retorts. “We got Instagram detectives, remember?”

Tess mulls it over for a second before turning to Paige with a mischievous grin. “You wanna break the internet?”

“Oh, now we���re talking.”

Paige posts her picture to her story, forgoing any sort of caption, and silences her phone. She gives Tess her undivided attention as she plots. Tess pulls Paige closer into her space, hooking her chin over her right shoulder and leaning against her. Setting up her phone at the right angle, she says, “Look to your left,” and Paige does so until her piercings, half of her low bun, and the slight curve of her jaw are the only things in frame. The lights glint off of the diamond studs in her ears – Tess has to resist a smirk at how obvious the picture is, but she quickly controls her expression, her lips drawing into a natural pout as she takes the photo.

“Got it?” Paige asks, tilting her head to look at the photo. A smile covers her face as she takes it in. “Tess, you’re evil. Everyone is gonna flip.”

“My notifications are going to explode,” she says forlornly. “This is the price I pay to be mysterious and sexy.”

“Mysterious, nah,” Paige says. Her eyes linger on Tess’s face for a moment before she breaks out into a grin. “Sexy…? Hell nah.”

Indignant, Tess pushes her away, sending Paige sprawling to the floor dramatically. “Asshole! What happened to those ‘women-respecting feelings?’”

“You just pushed me to the ground!” Paige cries. “Where are your women-respecting feelings?”

Craig walks in just then, his face morphing into amused confusion as he looks between the two of them, wrapping supplies in hand. “Am I interrupting something?” he jokes.

Tess tries to keep the blush off of her cheeks. “Paige is just being mean to me,” she declares. “Poor Tess Kennedy whose left knee doesn’t even work.”

“Bro!” Paige’s tone is exasperated, and it brings a smile to Tess’s face. “You’re full of sh–” Paige cuts herself off with a cough. “...Sharks. Full of sharks.”

Craig chuckles as he examines Tess’s knee one last time before nodding and beginning to wrap it. “Same stuff, okay? Ice it when you do independent exercise, keep using your crutches, absolutely nothing strenuous.”

Tess nods, thanking Craig and heading out with Paige at her side. Even though the PT combined with her lack of sleep the night before has left her exhausted, Tess is in a significantly better mood than she started the day with. It’s likely too early into her recovery to feel any sort of earth-shattering hope, but she can’t help but feel like she’s doing it. She has yet to attend her first therapy appointment and the light at the end of the tunnel is still ten months away, but it feels like she’s making it out alive. And for now, that’s good enough for her.

MAY 6, 2023

Sleep comes easier to her Friday night. The cravings returned in full force as she was getting ready for bed, but Tess was exhausted – she took a melatonin gummy and passed out, although her knee woke her up a time or two. She felt well-rested for the first time in a couple of days. The drinking numbed her enough that she was able to sleep, but the abrupt cut-off has her body in disarray. It’s a double-edged sword. Her body craves it, but every time she thinks about a drink, she’s so disgusted at the thought that she can nearly taste the bile in her mouth. While it makes the cravings subside for a moment, they always return. She takes Tylenol in the morning to ward off the impeding headache and chugs a cup and a half of water, feeling as though she needs to flush all the bullshit out of her body.

Kamilla and Bree are up early and the three of them mill about the kitchen as they prepare a light breakfast. It was a Saturday morning tradition for them, usually consisting of pancakes, bacon, and eggs and a lengthy conversation about their weeks or anything in general. They’ve missed out on it for the past month for…obvious reasons that Tess already nurses a lot of guilt over, but she’s keen on making up for lost time. Kam and Bree put her on bacon duty as it’s the least strenuous. She portions the meat in the pan and slides it into the oven as Kam and Bree bicker over their shared stovetop space.

It’s grounding. Tess contributes where she can, enjoying the peace of the moment and laughing along with her teammates when they say something stupid. It nearly makes her forget about her knee, about the guilt she’s working through as she continues to make amends. Part of her wonders why she’d ever resorted to shutting everyone out and losing herself when all she really needed was to just let them in. She watches Kam shout in indignation as Bree jokingly flicks a bit of pepper into her pancake batter, and all Tess can think about is how could she ever hurt those girls. She remembers her promise. Tess has let too many terrible things become a habit, but she refuses to let mistreating her friends be a continued one.

They all sit to eat and the chatter only stops long enough to pass around their bottle of maple syrup and the butter. Kam and Bree ask how PT’s been going, and Tess is honest when she answers. She’s only two days into it and more often than not, it hurts – but she knows it’s for the better. She doesn’t voice the worry that she might stop taking it as seriously once Paige is back in Connecticut. Tess was only partially joking when she told Craig she had an enforcer. Paige holds her accountable in a way she’s been trying to force herself into doing, but her mind is still such a mess that it’s difficult and all she wants to do is mope in bed all day. She knows Kam and Bree wouldn’t let her live that down and she doesn’t want them to feel like she still needs a babysitter.

They tell her that they're proud of her, and Tess feels the tears well up as she tells them to shut up.

“She’s so back,” Kamilla cheers, high-fiving Bree. “Our little ball of sunshine.” Tess can only roll her eyes.

Breakfast ends and Kam and Bree ensure that they’ve got the dishes. The clock on the stove reads 10:30. Tess knows that Paige is likely on her way. She hugs them both, promising to be back once she’s seen her off, and slips into her shoes just as a knock rings out at the door.

Paige’s brows draw into a dramatic furrow once they come face to face. “Damn, you opened this door mad quick,” she says. “Tryna get rid of me that fast?”

Tess cracks a smile, shutting the door behind them with the leg of her crutch. “The sooner you’re out of South Carolina, the better.” They walk down the hallway.

Paige sighs as she punches the elevator button for the lobby. “You’ll miss me,” she says, assured. “You’re gonna miss me bringin’ you coffee, DoorDashing you Chipotle, and making sure you don’t re-tear your ACL.”

“On the contrary…I’ll enjoy the peace and quiet.” Paige shoots her a dirty look and Tess can’t help but laugh.

Paige escorts her to the Uber she has waiting for them. She holds onto Tess’s crutches as she helps her into the passenger side backseat, laying her leg flat against the leather. Her foot nearly brushes the door. Confused and wondering what Paige is doing, the blonde shuts the door and rounds the side. As she settles in, she drapes Tess’s leg over her lap. “You good?”

Mouth dry, all Tess can do is nod, and Paige leans forward enough to instruct their Uber driver to head to the airport. Her palm falls flat on Tess’s shin, her thumb brushing against her leg, and with the way Paige stares out of the window, it’s almost like she doesn’t even register what she’s doing. Their ride is quiet, save for the driver's soft R&B that Paige bobs her head to. Tess slips her phone out of her pocket and snags a quick photo, flipping her phone screen to show her. Paige smiles at her wordlessly, knowing they shouldn’t verbally scheme in front of the driver, and Tess posts the photo to her story.

She refreshes her feed, combing through all of the shit she’s been tagged in from various college basketball update accounts and Instagram sleuths. She and Paige are the face of a new account named taigeupdates – which Tess is assuming is supposed to be their ship name? Given that the alternative is Pess – not that Tess has given it any thought, because she hasn’t! – she could live with it. The admin already has Tess’s story reposted and the comments are flooding in with many begging for an official hard launch since it’s already obvious.

Their driver parks in the designated drop off lane and Paige helps Tess out of the backseat, ensuring she’s stable on her crutches before she’s looping around to the trunk and pulling her carry-on and suitcase out. Tess can already feel the eyes on them, the hushed whispers of, “Is that Paige Bueckers and Tess Kennedy?” And despite years in the spotlight, she can’t help the anxious flush that creeps up on her neck. Having so many eyes on her makes her feel vulnerable enough, but combined with the fact she has a huge brace on her leg and she’s walking around with crutches? She feels uncomfortable, like she’s a pacing animal behind bars in the zoo.

“Ready?” Paige murmurs, stepping up behind her, pressing her free hand to the palm of Tess’s back. The touch comforts her slightly, but only because she’s accustomed to Paige right now and because they’re in this together. Tess gives her a solid nod, tightening her hands around the bars of her crutches. The blonde moves her hand down to her hip to give her a reassuring squeeze before placing it at the center of her back. Paige leads them into the airport, though she leans down, her mouth close to Tess’s ear as she whispers. “We shoulda talked about this earlier, but…what’s on and off limits right now?”

Tess swallows, trying to ignore the nerves. “Just do whatever feels right,” she answers honestly. “The media knows we just spent three days together, right? Don’t overthink it. I’m your girlfriend sending you off at the airport. Make it look like that and not two strangers trying to look the part.”

Paige grins insufferably at her. “Aw, I think that’s the first time you claimed me,” she says. Tess rolls her eyes, tempted to swat her with her crutch, but decides against it. The last thing she needs is Paige tripping and fucking up her knee even more. “So…nothing's off limits?”

“You wanna kiss me so bad you look stupid,” Tess says, nudging Paige with her elbow. From the corner of her eye, she can see the phone camera pointed at them, so she swallows her pride and looks up to Paige with a grin. “I think we should hug for sure. Anything else is too soon...like I said, we've spent three days together. I don't U-Haul.”

“Fine by me,” Paige says, looking far too comfortable as she walks through the airport. “Don't wanna do nothing you're uncomfortable with. Even if it would break the Internet. I know you like that shit.” Tess shrugs, but she was pleased with the media’s reaction so far. Between the two of them, Paige was definitely the menace and chaos-monger, although Tess enjoyed setting a fire once in a while. They finally reach Paige’s terminal and she leaves Tess’s side long enough to check in at the counter.

While she’s gone, a teenage girl approaches Tess with a shy expression, phone clutched in hand. “Excuse me, are you Tess Kennedy?” she asks.

“Guilty,” Tess jokes, leaning on her healthy leg.

“Do you mind if I get a picture?”

Tess shakes her head, saying, “Not at all,” as she moves to stand next to the girl. She angles the phone and Tess throws up a peace sign, grinning, and she snaps the photo. Before either of them can say anything else, Paige is walking back from the check in counter and the girl looks like she’s about to start doing cartwheels.

“Is that–”

“Unfortunately,” Tess sighs, which makes the girl laugh and Paige narrows her eyes. Remembering where they are, Tess smiles innocently.

“Can I get another picture with the both of you?”

Paige and Tess can’t resist. Paige rarely turns down her supporters in the first place, and all Tess can think about when she’s in these situations is all the times she’s ever met her idols and how it changed her life. Being in a situation to give back to the youth like that is one of the best parts about playing basketball. They pose on either side of the teenager as she takes the photo, and after quick hugs and a lot of gratitude, Paige and Tess are left alone.

Tess checks the time, realizing that Paige is boarding soon. The overhead PA confirms as much and Paige glances at Tess once more, hiking her carry-on bag higher on her shoulder. “You gonna miss me?” she asks teasingly, and Tess taps her chin, thinking.

“Hmm,” she ponders. “Not one bit.”

“You will,” Paige says confidently. “I got motion like that.” Tess rolls her eyes, unable to curb the warm fondness in her chest. She just pretends like it doesn’t exist. “Make sure you eat, alright? And go to PT. And be real with your therapist. Lemme hear you’re bein’ irresponsible and I’ll fly back down to set you straight.”

“Yes, Paige. Anything else?”

Paige shrugs, an easy smile on her face. “I know you pretend like you’ont like me, but I had fun with you. Even when you were mean.”

“Not mean,” Tess argues weakly. She can’t hide how touched she is by Paige’s words. “Just trying to keep your ego at a reasonable level.”

“Whatever you say, ma,” the blonde concedes. She opens her arms and Tess forgets all about the media, their story, whatever it is they’re supposed to be pretending to do as she wraps her arms around Paige’s waist. She could care less about the cameras, about the social media explosion they’re undoubtedly causing. Paige’s hands are warm on her back and her perfume makes Tess’s head spin. “Gimme a call if you need anything, I mean it. Don’t try to do this by yourself. Promise me.”

“Promise,” Tess vows. Paige pulls back ever so slightly, her eyes studying Tess’s face as her hands slide down her back, resting on her hips. Paige smiles at her and gives her a gentle squeeze before pulling away completely. She and Paige are both flushed, though the red creeping up Tess’s neck feels strangely like embarrassment.

“Call you when I land?” she asks quietly. Tess nods, forcing a smile, and they share their final goodbyes before Paige walks away.

Tess watches as she goes, suddenly hyper aware of the cameras and the crowd, and she holds back a sigh. She needs to get it together. None of that was real. She’s just a mess emotionally, touch-starved after a month-long crash out, and she’s letting it get to her head. She’ll feel more regulated after a nap and some stretches.

Hopefully.

[rivalsispunk]

Beneath The Surface (Chapter 2 of ongoing series When We’re Alone)

Best friend’s dad!Declan O’Hara, boss!Declan O’Hara x AFAB reader

Series summary: Journalist Declan O’Hara is in need of a personal assistant as his Corinium career skyrockets, and his daughter Taggie has the perfect candidate: her best friend. What seemingly starts as a professional relationship soon snowballs into something both Declan and reader were never expecting and are no longer able to deny.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, (eventual) smut, cursing, age gap romance (reader is a few years older than Taggie), mention of male appendages (IYKYK), more warnings added per chapter

Word count: 3.6k

Chapter summary: Declan grapples with the risk of hiring you while you grapple with whether or not you're good enough. Once the verdict is in, you both realise you may have jumped in feet first a little too hastily.

A/N: Things are heating up in more ways than one and I am soooo ready for you guys to meet the silently unhinged Declan... Oh, and in this universe, Declan did end up interviewing Margaret Thatcher. Also not entirely proofread so may be some mistakes. Happy reading!

© rivalsispunk please do not steal, copy, or translate any of my work onto other platforms!

Chapter Two: Beneath The Surface

“A promise of secrecy was of course very dutifully given, but it could not be kept without difficulty; for the curiosity excited by his long absence burst forth in such very direct questions on his return as required some ingenuity to evade, and he was at the same time exercising great self-denial, for he was longing to publish his prosperous love.”

You’ve spent the last half hour reading, then rereading, the same page of Pride and Prejudice, your creature-comfort book since you were a young teenager. Normally, you’d be able to recite the passage from memory by now, but your mind has been elsewhere than focussed on the words in front of you. It’s been over a week since your interview with Declan and you’ve heard nothing. Zilch. Nada. For days, your brain has been stuck in a constant loop of questions you’ve no answers for.

Why hasn’t he called? 

Why haven’t you heard anything? 

Did he find someone better?

That last one has been the most burning question of them all, coupled with the memory of Declan’s gravelly voice telling you, I’d be lucky to have ya.

So, why hasn’t he called?

It’s not lost on you that you sound more like a needy girl hanging out for a guy after a date than someone waiting to hear back about a job you weren’t even sure you wanted until the moment you were sat in his office. But you do want it.

The job, that is.

Taggie was none the wiser, too. She’d told you her father had barely given her an inkling of where his head was at, and that he remained suspiciously mum on the outcome of the interviews he’d had in the days succeeding yours. “I think he’s just been busy,” she countered, mentioning that Declan had been on edge in the lead up and preparation for his televised interview with Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher. You were well aware, and knew how much the opportunity meant to him, so you’d made a conscious effort to stay away from The Priory, as not to overwhelm Declan or put any additional pressure on him to make a decision about the assistant position. Instead, you’d met Taggie in town for afternoon tea on the days she wasn’t preparing for an event, or a meal at Bar Sinister when time called for a catch up. But the Thatcher interview was days ago now — a roaring success with both viewers and ratings — and you were getting restless for news.

Slamming your worn out copy of Pride and Prejudice shut, you reach for the phone by your bedside and dial your best friend for what feels like the fiftieth time this week. You’ve called The Priory so often in recent days that she doesn’t even say hello when she answers.

“Still no word yet,” she sighs down the line. “He’s in an awful mood tonight, though. Went straight up to his office when he got home, refused dinner. I think Mummy being away is getting to him.”

You hum in agreement, not that you have any real insight on the matter. “I’m sure he’s fine, Tag. Probably tired of putting up with that Tony Baddingam’s shit. I told you what a right arse he was to your dad when I was there, didn’t you?”

“You did. Honestly, I didn’t think about anyone else at Corinium when I suggested you work for Daddy. It’s one thing for you to be under him, but to be at the beck and call of Lord Baddingham, too?” You practically hear Tag shudder down the line. “Makes me feel ill the way he treats the women who work for him.”

You push aside any runaway thoughts elicited by Taggie’s mention of you under Declan and shrug. “It’s fine, Tag. I’ve dealt with enough Baddinghams in my time to know to tread carefully.” You pull the phone cable taut and pluck it with your finger. “Besides, I don’t think I’ve got the job anyway. I should have heard by now.”

In the room above Taggie, Declan stubs out his cigarette, reclining in his office chair as he listens to his daughter’s voice reverberate through the house. One final plume of smoke emerges from the pile of ashes and butts that have accumulated in the tray over the last twenty-four hours. He ought to be prepping for his next TV interview, a fairly benign chat with a local farmer who has grand plans for the land on the outskirts of the Cotswolds. A piece of cake, he’d told Tony earlier today when he was asked how his preparation was coming. However, he’d flicked through his notes and research God knows how many times this evening, yet couldn’t recall one lick of fact about his upcoming subject. Instead, he’d spent hours — no, days — agonising over whether he should hire you. His producer, Cameron Cook, was breathing down his neck for him to hire someone so he was spread less thin, but it’s not an easy task. On paper, you’re the perfect choice. Hell, in reality, you’re the perfect choice. Still, he prayed that one of the interviewees after you would prove better candidates (and notably male), but no one measured up to you. Sure, they were intelligent. Passionate, somewhat. But then there was you; intelligent and passionate, and looking far too delectable in that bloody skirt that belongs to his fucking wife. Yes, his wife — that’s if she still even wants to be called that — who’s been gone for weeks without as much as a phone call or letter to the house. Their son, Patrick, had mentioned that she’d phoned a couple of weeks ago to inform him she was back in the city, but spared their university-bound child the details of her whereabouts. Declan loves Maud, despite her shortcomings — of which there are many — but he couldn’t help but resent his wife for her absence, and moreover, for the constant dull ache that had been burdening his cock since seeing her skirt on you. He rationalised that if Maud was here, he wouldn’t be up at night thinking obscene thoughts about his daughter’s best friend who had showed up to his office all smiles and curves in his wife’s long-forgotten hand-me-downs. Every time Declan closes his eyes he sees the shallow dimple that adorns your left cheek. He gets random flashbacks of that black lace bra he imagines holds perfect breasts, if he just allows his mind to wander.

He flexes his hand in an attempt to rid it of the itch that’s been daring him to relieve himself ever since you left his Corinium office. There have been countless instances over the last week where he wondered if he just gave in — just a little, just a stroke, something, anything — that the ache will go away. But there’s a bigger part of him that’s afraid that once he starts, he won’t be able to stop, and then how will he ever be able to face you again? Face Taggie again, knowing the pure filth that’s taken him over in the moments when he’s alone?

Cameron had demanded that afternoon that he chooses someone to pick up his slack by the weekend so help her God or she’ll stick him with an intern with more boobs for brains, and he knows — he knows — he can’t be stuck with someone with the same level IQ as a stale loaf of bread. He’d combust. So, against his better judgement, he decides as he lights yet another cigarette, that he’ll offer you the job as his assistant.

So help him God.

The phone rang just after half seven as you took your first bite of marmite toast. “Do you want the good news or the best news first?” You wince at Taggie’s chirpiness so early in the morning.

“Umm, best ‘til last,” you option. “Good news first.”

“Well, I’m making shepherd’s pie for dinner and you’re coming over.”

“Alright,” you giggle. “And the other news?”

“We’re celebrating.”

“Celebrating you making shepherd’s pie?”

“No, you nitwit! We’re celebrating you! You got the job! Daddy just told me on his way out this morning.”

Your chair whines against the floorboards of your flat as you shoot to your feet. “I got the job?”

“You got the job!” Taggie shrieks down the line. “Daddy said he was going to phone you when he gets to the office but I couldn’t wait to tell you myself. I know you’ve been anxious waiting to hear back.”

“Oh, Tag, I can’t believe it! I really thought he’d found someone more suited,” you express, cheeks pinching with a grin.

“He said he was very impressed with you,” your friend continues, voice laced with pride. “He also suggested we go shopping for some new officewear.”

“So, he hated my outfit, is what you’re saying.” Him and everybody else at that bloody station.

“No, it’s not that. I think him seeing you in Mummy’s clothes freaked him out a little, is all,” Taggie confesses. “He’s been a bit all over the shop since she’s been gone and I suppose when it comes to her, out of sight, out of mind is best.”

You think back to Declan spluttering his tea everywhere during your interview, and his little explosion afterwards. It makes sense that he doesn’t wanted be reminded of the woman who stepped out on him. You were just glad his reaction wasn’t to something you had done.

You and Taggie chat for a few minutes more about potential shopping destinations and your plans for the day before she rushes through a goodbye, eager to get to the market to pick up groceries for your celebratory meal. An hour later, Declan calls.

“Morning, it’s Declan,” he says, words stifled by the cigarette between his lips. “Declan O’Hara.”

You bite down a smile at the unnecessary clarification. You do the same to thwart your enthusiasm at finally receiving his call. “Hiya. It’s nice to hear from you. How’re you this morning, Declan?”

“Yeah, good, good. Tony’s riding my arse as per usual but other than that, good.” Silence reigns as you wait for Declan to relay the good news. After a moment, he clears his throat like he just remembered you’re on the other end of the line. “Look, I don’t have long, but I wanted to give you a bell to let you know the assistant job is yours. If you want it.”

Although you were already aware of the job offer, you do a happy jig in your kitchen. “Yes, thank you! Of course, I accept.”

“Great. Does Monday work as a start date?”

“Absolutely. I’ll be there. Thank you, Declan.”

“Welcome. Chat soon.”

The line goes dead not second later, and while you’re still overcome with excitement about the new job, your chat with your new boss seemed off. Declan seemed off. Far removed from the chatty, friendly man you sat across from at Corinium just days ago. But like he said, Tony was on his back. He’s probably just… tense.

It becomes clear to Declan as he watches you and Taggie move seamlessly around the kitchen while clearing up after dinner that you’re effervescent. Far more than he’s ever noticed, in all the times you’ve visited his daughter over the recent months, and it bothers him. He hated how his pulse quickened at the sight of you on his doorstep two hours earlier, David Bowie T-shirt peeking out from beneath your checkered coat. If you were at least the tiniest bit irksome or slow-witted or just plain dull, he’d be able to reckon with the fact that his reaction to you was purely chemical. Just another man taken by a young woman’s good looks. But then again, if he found you any of those things, he wouldn’t dare allow you anywhere near his work, near his research. Nor would he be impressed with his daughter adopting a friend as such, either. 

Your laughter trills, egged on by the celebratory champagne Taggie had provided, and Declan catches the tailend of his daughter flinging a handful of dishsoap suds in your direction. You were a good girl, a good friend, being there for Taggie in the last few months. Always willing to lend a hand, or an ear, certainly a shoulder to cry on more than Declan liked to think about or admit. But you were just that: a girl. A girl who was now his assistant. He’ll be damned if he were to become another man at Corinium taking advantage of that power imbalance, which is why he replaces his glass of bubbles with a whiskey and retires to his office after supper, pressing a kiss to his daughter’s forehead as he goes.

You decide to sleepover at The Priory after consuming a few too many glasses of champagne for it be considered safe to drive home. Although, sleepover may be too generous of a word because you’ve barely slept a wink since sinking into bed beside Taggie over an hour ago. Your friend, however, had no trouble drifting off, only to start snoring so loudly the whole bed vibrates. You’ve already tried covering your head with a pillow and the counting backwards from one hundred trick to coax yourself to sleep, but it’s no use. You slide out from under the poppy-printed covers and tip-toe downstairs in a sweater hanging on the back of Taggie’s bedroom door. You’re swimming in the woollen brown garment. It falls to mid-thigh and is sleeves are at least half an arm-length too long, but it keeps the chill at bay when you swing open The Priory’s back door. You slide on a pair of Wellington boots that sit on the doormat and step out into the biting air. In it, the inches of skin between the hem of the sweater and your long socks prickle with goosebumps, and your breath forms a fog under the soft glow of fairy lights leftover from a garden party the O’Hara’s hosted in the summer. Somewhere in the distance, a owl twoos and foxes rustle through shrubbery. When you lived in the city, the nights were overrun with sirens and drunken hooligans singing football chants down the alleyways and other racket that made it very difficult to hear yourself think. Meanwhile, out here, in the countryside, you could just be.

“Nice sweater.”

“Fuck!” The sudden verbiage shocks your shoulders to your ears. There’s no mistaking that voice, yet you have to scan the area to see where the Irish lilt is stemming from. It’s not until you hear the swish of water that you realise he’s in the hot tub that’s tucked away from the courtyard, his silhouette barely visible against the night. “Declan. You gave me a fright.”

“Sorry,” he croaks. “Can’t sleep?”

You shake your head. “Taggie’s snoring like a freight train.”

As your eyes adjust to the dark, you just catch Declan’s moustache quirk with a lazy smile. “Just like her mother.”

The comment coaxes you closer to the tub, waiting for Declan to elaborate, but whatever story he might’ve spieled evaporates with the steam from the water. The heated pool was just another of Maud’s extravagant buys, and Declan hated the addition when it showed up in a delivery van, during summer, of all seasons, because he knew it would be forgotten about in a matter of days once she’d found something new to obsess over. There was always something with Maud. If it wasn’t an extravagant purchase to distract herself with, it was a lover, and if it wasn’t a lover, it was a trip far, far away from the Cotswolds. Her recent truancy being case in point.

There’s hardly any light in this corner of the yard, aside from a small golden glimmer beneath the hot tub surface, but it’s enough for you to take in Declan’s form. He’s lax, whiskey in hand, with his head reclined against the lip of the pool. You notice the thick smattering of chest hair across the breadth of his torso, dark and unruly. The few men you’ve ever been with have been around your age, either trimmed or unable to grow body hair where its desired. But then again, they were just boys in the scheme of things. Declan has always been so fucking manly. His already dark hair black with water, pushed away from his face like he’s slicked it back with his hands. It hasn’t stopped miniscule curls frizzing to fruition at his temples. Declan takes a sip of the amber liquid in his glass.

“If I’m being honest, I thought you’d be a tad more excited when I spoke to you this morning.” The subject change surprises you.

“Oh, trust me, I was! But–“

“But Taggie had already broken the news to you by then, hadn’t she?”

You look down at your feet, not wanting to give your friend away, but Declan knows his daughter has a hard time keeping a lid on her excitement. “It’s alright,” he chuckles. “She means well.”

“She’s a good friend. They’re hard to come by.”

You’re telling me, Declan thinks, taking a one-handed inventory of his own close companions.

The frosty air hugs you and your toes seize under its bite, even through your socks and boots. “Do you mind?” You point to the hot tub. It takes a moment for it to click in Declan’s brain that you’re asking if you can join him. It would be rude for him to say no. Stupid for him to say yes. Instead, he gives a non-commital shrug and whispers Lord, help me into his glass. Over its rim, he watches you perch on the edge of the tub to while you toe off your wellies. They land with a thud on the pavement and you giggle to yourself, oops, when one ricochets into a nearby shrub. Muscles zip up the back of your leg when you peel off your socks, and Declan has to force himself to look away when the hem of your sweater — no, his sweater, one of many Taggie had stolen away — rides dangerously high on your thighs as you swing your legs over the lip of the heated pool. He’s thankful that only one of the lights below the surface is in working order because his prick rouses when a satisfied hum seeps from you as your feet kiss the warm surface. Declan’s jaw ticks. The devil on his shoulder probes that you’re purposely torturing him and his conscious bites back that he’s a sleazy bastard for thinking as much. You’re not doing anything. You’re just here.

Get a grip on yourself, O’Hara, he scolds, and chases it with a swig of whiskey he only hopes will burn away the filthy thoughts you manage to conjure for him.

“You got another one of them?” When he faces you again, you’re pointing at the glass that’s fogged up in his sweaty palm.

“The champagne not enough for ya?”

You roll your eyes. “If you don’t want to share, just say so.”

“You can’t handle this.”

“Are you really going to sit there and tell a girl what she can and can’t handle?” you press, eyes locked in on his. “You’d be surprised what I can handle, Declan.” You don’t mean for it to sound so provocative, but challenging him has set your whole body ablaze. For good measure, you quirk an eyebrow at Declan, and the subtle move has his cock doing the same in the confines of his striped swim shorts. Without another word, Declan floats across the hot tub to where you’re seated and presses his glass into your hand. You offer a thank you in the form of a gentle smile before pressing your full, blush lips to the rim. Tilting the glass to the sky, you can feel Declan’s heavy gaze on you, watching. Waiting. You allow your eyes to fall shut as the bitter prickle of the whiskey waves over your tongue, so you don’t see him slide a hand to the back of his neck. His nails dig crecsents into the skin there, both as punishment for and distraction from the fact his mind is trekking to dark places where your lips are pressed somewhere far more sinister. He can’t keep his eyes off you while you drain what’s left of the whiskey, your eyes fluttering open when you realise there’s nothing left.

“I told you I could handle it,” you tell Declan, ignoring the slight burn that stings at the back of your throat. You both reach your hand into the small space between you, fingers grazing as you pass the glass back to Declan. 

The air between the two of you is charged. You wouldn’t be surprised if someone lit a match and the whole world went up in flames taking the pair of you with it. That same pained look that took Declan’s expression over during your interview rears its head again. Before you get the opportunity to put a name to it, a door creaks in the distance and your name echoes into the night.

“Are you out there?”

Taggie.

Taggie.

There’s a flurry of movement as Declan slides to the opposite side of the hot tub again and you all but catapult yourself onto the pavement as if you’d been caught redhanded. Doing what, you weren’t entirely sure, but you were certain it wasn’t a good look. You yank your socks over your damp feet, followed by the wellies and make a start for where the kitchen light illuminates your friend in the doorway.

“There you are!” she sighs, almost relieved, when you meet her at the step. “You alright? I thought you might’ve driven home after all.” “God, no. I’m fine! Just…” you glance over your shoulder to where the blaze of a cigarette burns in the darkness. “Just getting some air.”

Loved writing this chapter, and things are just getting started!! Reblog, share, comment: it all means the world to me!! <3

Previous chapters: Chapter 1: The Interview

[blackbirdsblackberries]

I've been rereading I Hate The New Hero over and over. I love it so much! But while I was reading chapter three again and an idea hit me.

What if, on his way over to the toy chest, Tim's foot caught on a floor board?

He's able to immediately recognize that this floor board looks as if it's been pulled up multiple times due to some wearing down along the edges. He thinks he's just found some super secret area where you keep something you don't want anyone to find. So he lifts the board.

And immediately sets the board back in place again, gently because he's having a dissociative panic attack. Tim goes to leave, gets confronted by reader's father, and gets shocked out of his episode when he calls you a slut.

Tim is grabbing this man's hand and twisting the guy into a police hold and pressing, pressing, pressing til the guy is on his knees, then with his forehead to the floor. The reason he doesn't just slam the man down is because it could wake you up. With as little noise as possible, the father is on the floor with both arms behind his back practically licking the dirty boards beneath them.

And Tim whispers -no hisses!- into the quiet of this tiny apartment.

"If I ever see, or hear, about you calling her that ever again, Gotham will keep finding your body. I'll even start with those rotten fingers you use to communicate. Do you understand me?"

The man was chocking on shock.

Tim wanted a fucking answer.

"I said, Do. You. Under. Stand. Me." Tim punctuated the sentence with violent shaking of this man.

Reader's father nods frantically.

Tim let's him go. Takes a step back. His chest is heaving in rage. How dare this low life talk about you like this?

(How hypocritical of him, Tim vaguely criticizes himself. After all, he would have probably joined in on mocking you, or just walked out the door, if he hadn't seen what was under the loose floor board.)

Tim is still seething.

"I understand why your throat was cut. You must have made enough enemies yapping lies as if they were true. It makes me sick to leave you with even one of your digits. Let alone, all of them. But [Name] would get stressed or cry if I hurt her family. So, until I can convince her to leave this hell hole, you will not sign or glare at her. Even once. And don't tell her about this. At all. I still need to get a room ready, and I can't have you spoil her surprise."

Tim knows he has JJ's smile right now. His manic eyes boring into the man. Who was trying to prop himself up or curl into a ball; Tim couldn't tell which. All that really mattered was the man was looking at him. Tim's body was jittering from holding back laughter.

Aranea's suit was the most damning thing he could probably find. Tim had to mull over whether to believe you were the hero he viewed as a sister, or if you were someone else entirely.

Of course, Tim hates the thought he treated his sister so awfully. But! There's the chance you're not her! Maybe you're her friend?

Oh! You have a scholarship for engineering. You make Aranea's tech.

Well, if that's the case, he can see about getting you away from here so you're able to make better gear. Which explains Aranea backing out of patrol tonight! If [Name] isn't there to be her person in the chair, Aranea probably didn't feel comfortable going out.

You're probably Aranea's friend on top of that. She may even think of you as a sister! After all, she probably trusts you with her identity so you could make the custom suit. And all her tech.

Which also means that all your supposed hate was just a way to disguise the fact that you know her.

Of course.

No one could actually hate the spider hero, she's too sweet.

So you're behavior was you trying to protect her.

Tim is manic with joy at being one step closer to getting to know his sister. If that means becoming friends with you, it won't be hard.

He forgets to tell Bruce.

Tim greets the reader warmly the next day, saying about how she's not so bad once he ignored her being mean about Aranea. He then makes a comment calling the reader a Tsudere.

Bruce still threatens the reader and Tim freaks out about her skipping school to help Aranea with a day patrol. He then finds out what Bruce and Damian did and spams them to apologize.

Holy shit, Aranea is probably pissed at the Wayne's now! First with Tim being hostile, then Bruce and Damian. They were picking on her tech engineer and Aranea had to go release steam from being so angry.

Him just furiously texting, explaining that he found out reader was the creator behind Aranea's tech and the hater behavior was to protect her identity.

But he's only texting them, not the group chat. So no one else knows. Jason goes to give the letter letting go her mother and Dick still pours ice water on her. Which Tim, Bruce, and Damian find out through the chat. And promptly lose it.

(Excuse me, I'm very out of it right now but still wanted to send this to you. Have a lovely day!)

I love this!! It's been in my inbox for a while and I keep reading over it and forgetting to respond 💔

When Y/N wakes up she'll be in for a shock, her dad is avoiding her??? The stuff in her floorboard is slightly skewed??? Oh... Lucky her.

Tim greets her warmly and acts oblivious? She's holding back her punch right now, the nerve he has.

Then, she slowly realizes, Tim isn't treating her like he does Aranea, something's different. Surely he can't be that dense, right?

I think eventually Y/N confronts him on it, asking him what he thinks the connection between her and Aranea is. When he answers Y/N's shoulders literally drop.

Tech.. Engineer..? That could work, she guesses. But, she doubts the theory will last for long - she can't be in two places at once.

[damnfeelings09]

Animals AU - Shadow's version

A.N: I know it's small but my mind wa fried for this and I was too eager to write next chapter which will be a lot longer. I've seen writters add the word count, shall I add it too? As always RED for stalker, GREEN for you. Be careful, sometimes the worst monsters are the one near us.

You hadn't seen Shadow again since your conversation in the morning and you were thankful that was the case, you had secretly been hiding from him in the garden behind the cafeteria. It was bad enough having to put up with him in class, now you'd have to pretend you actually liked the bastard. What am I going to do now?

“...diagnostic criteria based on personality traits and behaviors, as would be the case with cruelty or disregard for the feelings of others, inability to empathize and feel guilt, irresponsibility and disregard for social norms that may even result in violent behavior...”

This was the 5th time you reread the same paragraph, your brain unable to grasp or process what you were reading, too busy devising a way out of Shadow's deal and looking for an explanation for what had happened the night before. The sound of Smoke on the water diverted your attention to the screen of your cell phone.

Unknown number at the screen . You didn't let your phone ring again, you pressed the button and brought it close to your ear.

“Were you expecting me to call?” Him again. His voice, as soft and delicious as you remembered it sending shivers down your spine.

“Leave me alone, you pervert.”

“Aw... but you looked so eager the other day. Tell me, did you touch yourself thinking of me?” he said mockingly. How the hell could he know...? No, calm down, you're just paranoid and he's playing with you. There's no way he could know.“Mmmmh... You did. You naughty girl. I like to know I'm the one you think about while you cum. I can make you cum right now if you want to, take that little pussy of yours and fill it warm until you can't no more.”

Your body trembling at his words but it was just out of disgust, right? My mind is so fucked up. On the other end of the phone the stranger laughed, mocking you once again.

“Fuck you asshole.” you hung up, throwing the cell phone back into the backpack, covering your face with your hands, tears of rage escaping from the corner of your eyes. Why? Damn it, why?! Why did it have to happen to me?!

The phone rang again. This time you didn't answer. When you looked up, you already had more than 50 messages, all from the same unknown number, all with the same words in it.

YOU’RE MINE

[mirohlayo]

Your writing is so beautiful and amazing! I reread it everyday and spend hours smiling! May I please make a request for either Charles Leclerc or whoever you want! Can it be getting married but it is a planned elopement (no guests, just the two of you)? I am very shy and the thought of getting married in front of a crowd makes me want to cry from fear. Please and thank you!

First of all it's you who's gonna make me cry like omgg love youu so much it's so sweet 🥹💕 I took a little time (I'm genuinely sorry), but here it is! I'm not the best at writing about weddings but I tried my best. Hope you are going to like it !!

"I LOVE YOU VERY MUCH TOO, CHARLES"

( what if running away from your marriage was ultimately the best idea? )

warning : mentions of stress/anxiety, fear of crowd, all fluffly

note : i wrote this in like 45min so it's not the best thing i've written. i also used some french words but it's just affectionate surnames.

word count : 1.3k

It was finally the big day. This day that you were waiting for so much, this day that made you smile in an absolutely exceptional way. It was the promise of a new chapter, of the exchange of your heart with that of your soul mate. It was the promise that you were going to spend the rest of your days with the one who makes your heart beat a little harder every day.

Everything was planned. Absolutely everything. The ceremony, the vows exchanged, the alliances, the witnesses and therefore of course the guests. However, although the guests were all intended to participate in your wedding ceremony, you were not of the same mind about sharing this moment so important and precious to you with a crowd.

You weren't the most comfortable with people. Being very shy and reserved, the simple idea of having to present yourself hand in hand with your partner in front of all these people made you nauseous, and you also found yourself holding back a few tears of anxiety and stress from rolling down your cheeks. , when your maid of honor was doing your makeup.

Charles knew this very well. He was aware that his fiancée, and soon to be his wife, had problems with crowds and feeling comfortable in front of so many people. And for him, there was no question of this magnificent and wonderful moment being ruined by the fear that the looks of others provoke in you.

He wanted everything to be perfect. May you feel comfortable, happy and filled with happiness and love. It was his role, and it always will be, he would do anything just for you.

So, while all the guests had gathered in front of the aisle that you were going to go down in a few seconds, while all these witnesses were exchanging laughter, secret conversations, Charles approached you, hidden behind a magnificent and large tree .

His eyes softened at the sight of you, and his hand gently caressed your cheek. “It’s time, mon amour.” Your eyes were bright, because a few tears of joy were already threatening to fall on your face. You nodded quickly while smiling, your heart at peace. "You're just...perfect. You look so beautiful in that dress. I'm the luckiest man alive." He added, your beauty never ceased to give him the impression of admiring a divine being.

“But where have the bride and groom gone??” A voice louder than the others came to tear through the incessant conversations of the guests, giving way to panic because you were not present to walk down the aisle. People were panting, panicked by your absence. Everyone seemed to be looking for you everywhere, and footsteps were getting closer to the tree.

Charles’ eyes widened as a wave of stress suddenly hit you. Your future husband noticed this, and his eyes were terrified that you would feel bad and anxious during this day. Then he intertwined his hand in yours, and just this gesture soothed the irregular beating of your heart. "It's okay, mon coeur. I've got you, don't worry. Breathe with me."

He took a deep breath and encouraged you to do the same. The air that infiltrated your lungs made you more peaceful. A fairly close sound of a leaf suddenly came to tickle your ears. And without you having time to react, Charles dragged you with him, hand in hand, far from all these people.

“W-wait Charles!!” His hand in yours pulled you towards him as he ran, under the cherry blossom petals that were falling again. And it's as if time seemed to stand still, during that moment. As the sun's rays came to rock your faces, a big smile appeared on your lips as you continued to run to keep up with your fiancé.

Guests would run up to the tree to catch up with you. But it was already too late. All they could see was the magnificent scene unfolding before their eyes. As the gentle breeze caressed their hair, they saw in the distance two young engaged couples madly in love with each other, escaping their wedding ceremony, hand in hand, a huge smile on Charles' face as 'they heard the sweetness of your laughter.

They looked like two children, but two children who were simply happy and completely in love.

You couldn't help but feel light. Light and free. You were running away from your own wedding ceremony with your lover and it seemed so unreal that you felt like you were living in a romantic movie. But the look that Charles gave you during this flight warmed your heart. Because you could see tears forming there, and quite simply all the love he has for you. So you too could no longer.

You couldn't hold back those tears of happiness anymore, as they fell freely down your face.

-

“It suits you so well, mon amour” Charles brushed against your fingers, where his engagement ring was on. This ring was simply sublime. It highlighted you, just like Charles's.

Sitting next to your husband, your head resting on his shoulders, you enjoyed the sunset and the breeze that made you shiver. You still had your wedding outfits on, and you really looked like two crazy people who had escaped an arranged and predestined marriage. However, it was the opposite. It was the romantic elopement of two people who wanted to do as they pleased.

Still, you couldn't help but be torn. What if your husband wanted a real, traditional wedding ceremony, celebrated with all the guests? You sighed deeply and Charles noticed it. He looked at you questioningly, and you lowered your head, somewhat ashamed.

"I'm sorry. We eloped from our wedding and it's just... maybe you would have preferred that we didn't elope and had a traditional wedding. With all the witnesses and guests." Some tears threatened to flow down your cheeks again. Not because of your words. But by the gentleness with which Charles entwined his hand in yours, and gently lifted your chin so that he could admire you.

All his gestures were fluid and full of love. Just like his gaze, which admired you in an absolutely exceptional way. As if you were the most beautiful wonder in the world. "Don't apologize, y/n. I'm so happy, you have no idea how much. So happy to have run away to your side, to have left this wedding ceremony behind us." He blinked away the few tears on your pink cheeks. "I just want you to be happy. To see you smile, to laugh. And you did it today, thanks to this escape. I'm so happy that we ran like two idiots, and especially to have given you this ring on my finger. If I had the chance, I wouldn't change this day in any way, because it was the most beautiful thing that ever happened to me. The most beautiful day of my life."

You nodded rigorously, a big smile plastered on your face. Your heart melted at his words. "I'm finally going to be able to spend the rest of my life by your side, and you have no idea how much I can't wait. I love you deeply and sincerely, my heart. I love you so much."

“I love you very much too, Charles” You happily said.

This beautiful day, this beautiful wedding ended with Charles kissing you as if it was the last one he had the right to do, as if nothing mattered anymore. His lips desperately sought yours, as this kiss sealed the promise of a bright future filled with love and hope. A future where Charles will end up living his life by your side, and a future where you will remember this incredible memory of your marriage union.

[drvscarlett]

About You Pt 19

Sebastian Vettel x Webber!Reader

Summary: Everyone knows about the history of Sebastian Vettel and Mark Webber. But there's a well kept story within the paddock about Sebastian Vettel and another Webber. This is that story.

A/N: and i think its a good time to reread the series because we have some parts that is a hint to the previous chapters. its all connected! i hope you all enjoy!!!

About You Series

2015, Albert Park

Today marks the first race that he would do for Scuderia Ferrari, the dream team of most drivers. From the entrance, there were plenty of Tifosis with their banner and red ensemble waiting for him. Sebastian was used to having fans back in his Red Bull and Toro Rosso days but the energy of Ferrari fans is on a whole another level. People of all ages with different speaking languages calls out his name with something in hand for him to sign with.

“Bring the championship back to Ferrari”

“We are with you Sebastian!”

“Grazie Sebastian, have a good season!”

The words of encouragement being passed by people is something that brings a smile on his face. It was uplifting to hear that people still believed in him despite losing the championship last year. He feels extremely motivated to go to the car.

When he entered the garage, Kimi, his teammate was sitting there with his usual poker expression. Upon seeing Sebastian, he cracked one of his rare smiles and welcomed Sebastian to the team. The rest of the garage seems to be excited in welcoming Sebastian as well. They buzzed about how excited they all are about the build of the car and the opportunities that this season may grant. It was a good omen for Sebastian.

The practice session won’t start for a few minutes, so he opted to lounge in his driver’s room. The minute that Sebastian opened the room, his eyes zeroed in on the fruit basket of oranges placed on his desk.

An irony that a single fruit can bring back so many memories and could make all happy thoughts disappear from Sebastian. It suddenly reminded him that there was one person that he won’t be seeing around this year.

With a sigh, he picked up the card attached to the basket.

Congratulations Sebastian Vettel for being in Scuderia Ferrari. Have a great season ahead.

He smiles thoughtfully with the message. Flipping the card he tried to find who have sent it but it seems unsigned.

‘Can this be from her?’ he couldn’t help but think about it. He believed that he never mentioned it in any of his interviews that this was pre-race ritual goodluck for him. His thoughts couldn’t help but drift to her.

It has been months since he has seen her. There were also no news about her like she disappeared out of thin air, like she never even existed. He just wanted to know how is she doing. Is she doing better now? Can she walk now?

The heavy weight of his feelings had him sitting in silence.

“Seb..”Kimi knocked and entered the room “Free practice is starting in a few and they wanted me to call you”

The Finn was often referred as someone who doesn't care but he was secretly good at picking up emotions, “Are you okay?”

Sebastian looks up and tries to shrug it off“I’m good, don’t worry…Just the oranges”

“You allergic?”

“No”Sebastian’s voice falters “Just wondering who might have sent it”

“Probably a fan of yours”Kimi suggested.

“Yeah a fan”

2015, Sepang

Mark Webber’s book Aussie Grit, a chapter excerpt

Honestly, I never gave it much thinking that my sister sacrificed a lot of her time to be with me. She was merely 16 when she decided to accompany me to my racing and be my personal assistant. Instead of going out during the weekends, she spends it with me in strategy rooms or moping about a winless weekend. Now that I see it, I never saw her have time for herself. Everything that she does is because of me.

I wish I could tell you that I have been a good brother. There are several instances where I have been the cause of her heartache. If only I brought down my ego a notch then I wouldn’t miss several years with my baby sister. It was a great thing that she even gave me a chance. We were rekindling and everything. Then, last year was an eyeopener when she got into that accident. We were lucky to have her alive but it paralyzed her legs completely and it’s taking a while for her to recover. I respect my sister’s wishes to step back from anything motorsports related or from the media’s eyes. As her older brother, I do what I have to do to make sure she is getting the privacy that she needs.

She may or may not be reading this book but I hope you know Y/N how loved you are. We will always be waiting here for you. You take your time and your big brother will take care of everything.

2016, Lausitzring

The crowd was roaring as a Schumacher was once more placed on top of the podium. Glee was evident in Mick’s face as he made his way down from the podium. His eyes scanned the crowd and he couldn’t help but widen when he saw Sebastian’s face. He didn’t know that he would be joining to watch the race today.

“SEB!” Mick immediately made a beeline towards the F1 driver “What are you doing here?”

“Watching you race of course” Sebastian grins.

It was something that Sebastian has tried to do as much as he could. He can sense that Mick needed guidance and Michael would have done that if he was awake. So, whenever Sebastian could, he would drop by and watch Mick race. When he couldn’t, he rewatches them and messages him to commend him or recommend some improvements in his techniques.

“Very very proud of you Mick”he added the praise.

Sebastian hugged Mick proudly. Cameras immediately went off to capture the moment. Both of them have been used to the fanfares of the paddock and they could already see the articles that will be posted comparing young Seb and young Mick.

“Excuse me Seb but we have to get Mick for media duties” someone from the PR team interrupted the moment

“You can wait at the driver’s room”Mick instructed

“Look at you so bossy”Sebastian joked

“Viv, don’t let him go anywhere”Mick insisted “Seb, I still have to talk to you and update you about a lot”

Sebastian nodded and headed his way to the driver’s room. He greeted some of the staffs that were lounging there and proceeded to make himself feel at home in Mick’s driver’s room.

He couldn’t help but chuckle as soon as he enters. The driver’s room was pristine and clean. Sebastian was not the most organized driver on the grid when he was Mick’s age. Seeing how every paper has been neatly filed, clothes folded, and pillows arranged—Mick was far better from him than a mile.

There were two tables but his eyes lingered at the table where the drawer was slightly opened. He catches the glint of a photo frame. Curiosity got the best of him, and he opened the drawer a bit more to see the frame. It was a photo of the Schumacher family with him and Y/N.  The bright smile on each faces and the way Sebastian held Y/N with Mick in the middle. It was a reminder of the good old days.

“I hope you are okay”Sebastian’s hands hovered at the picture.

She never leaves his mind. He stopped talking about her but she is always in his mind. Sometimes when he takes photos of Mick, he wonders if she is watching his progress. What would she say? Sebastian could bet that if things were a little different then Y/N must have been there in every race that Mick participates in. She would have been there with Sebastian proudly cheering for Mick.

“Hey”Mick was right on time to interrupt him “Media is sometimes even more tiresome than the race”

“You think that’s bad, wait till Formula 1” Sebastian snickers.

He slipped the picture back to the drawer and shut it close to avoid anyone else from snooping. If this was hidden away then Mick might have wanted it private and away from prying eyes. Sebastian respects that. However, Mick didn’t miss it.

“You saw the picture, didn’t you?” Mick asked

“Yeah” a sad smile graced Sebastian’s face “It’s been a while since I saw her and its just a bit nostalgic”

Mick has tried to avoid talking about Y/N as per her wishes and of course because he was unsure about Sebastian’s thoughts. He didn’t have the full picture of what went down but he was not dumb to not know that the ending caused them a lot of pain.

As a witness to their pining, Mick can tell that Sebastian never stopped loving Y/N.

“You miss her” Mick softly says.

Miss was a simple word to use. Sebastian longs to be with her. He has all the connection, power, and money to find her but he always stops himself. She needed time and he is willing to give that to her. However, he really longs for her.

“I do kid, I really do miss her” Sebastian sighs.

“Even after all these years?” Mick wondered

The older driver could only nod. Mick gave Sebastian a comforting hug. Mick wished that he could say the things that he know but he made a promise and his Papa raised him to honor his words. The hug is the only thing he can do right now.

2016, Yas Marina Circuit

The party was on full swing. The drinks are flowing, and Jenson could not hear the endless cheers of congratulations for his retirement. As a former party boy, he used to enjoy these kinds of events but now that he is getting older he seems to be taking a step back. He found himself making his way out of the balcony to get some open air.

“Ditching your own party? That’s so unlike you Jenson”

It seems as if Jenson was not the only one who needed some fresh air as Sebastian was also out there with a beer. The Ferrari driver has a drink in hand as he leans by the balcony.

“I think I entered my party days too early so now I’ll be retiring” Jenson admits.

“Congrats to your retirement man”Sebastian hugs him "Retiring seems to be a trend"

The implication was subtle. For the past few years, people have been retiring. Starting from Mark to Y/N and now its Jenson. He has also heard Nico joking around earlier that maybe he could retire as well now that he has a world championship. Sebastian couldn't help but ask if this is a sign from the heavens that maybe he should as well

"You should try to, there is an appeal to it." Jenson voiced out his thoughts.

Taking a sip from his beer, Sebastian shakes his head in response. He can't retire yet. He still has a passion for racing, its the only thing he has ever known so it would be hard to quit it.

"I think I can still keep up with the young ones"Sebastian replied thoughtfully.

"Wanting to race or do you want Y/N to find you easily if she decides to come back?"

Bold statements from Jenson seems to take the conversation to a different turn. A sober him would have himself controlled with the information that he shares especially with Y/N. But his defenses are down and he knew Sebastian wanted to know how she is.

“She is doing okay, she is better now and healthier. But I don’t think she will return, she is happy with her life now. No media, no stress, just a simple life”

A wave of relief washed over Sebastian's face. It was a sense of comfort for him to know that she is okay. The distance is difficult but he is glad that she is alright and getting better.

"I'm glad to hear that." Sebastian stated "But I’m not asking for her to comeback. I want her to have her time to recover as she said"

Jenson's face contorted to what seems to be an irritation or maybe this was the alcohol making his emotions go haywire.

"Why are you like that?" he asked.

"Like what?"

"How can you keep waiting and holding on even though it has been years. You should have forgotten her, you should have chosen another one. Why do you stay?"

"Because I love her." Sebastian answer was immediate "I know it is naïve and simple but there is no other way to put it. I love Y/N. I think she tried to push me away before but its always her no matter what. I know I made mistakes and I hurt her and I tried to make it up. Everyday I am trying to do better because I wanted to be a better person that Y/N comes back to"

The air that Sebastian ended his speech with was crackling with tension. Jenson, who seems to be drunk a while ago, suddenly sobered up with the confession. He looks skeptically at Sebastian and he could see how much he means everything he just said.

"You really love her right seb?"

"I do."

"Okay then wait for her." a resignation in Jenson's part "You take care of her okay? She is one of the best person in the world and she deserves the best. I hope you don’t get tired waiting for her."

Jenson has always been careful to keep his feelings away. He knew that this was a losing battle to admit his emotions but maybe people were right to say that alcohol manages to bring out the deepest darkest truth that we have.

In this haze, Sebastian finally dawns a realization. Something that he should have realized years ago. It was so obvious now that Jenson is all drunk and open to read.

“You love her”

“Loved.” Jenson begrudgingly admits “I know at one point I tried shooting my shot because I wanna piss Mark off. But when I got to know her damn man, I was a puddle. I knew it was useless to tell her how I feel when a) I am a playboy that cannot be taken seriously b) you look at her like she hangs the whole universe in front of your eyes and c) because she loves you so so so damn much”

Plenty of times that Jenson wished that he played his cards right. He wished that maybe he could have sabotaged the relationship and show Y/N that he is a better option. However, he doesn't have the heart to do that knowing that it would end up with Y/N being hurt. He also knew that her happiness is with Sebastian and all he ever wanted was to make her happy.

“So you take care of her better now that you know that I’ll always be watching your back. You fail another time and I’m stealing her away” Jenson laughs jokingly

Sebastian nodded in agreement.

2017, Circuit de Barcelona-Catalunya

"One, two, three, smile!"

Anyone passing by would have thought that its just another tourist family with the mother taking a photo of her daughter and husband. But they couldn't be more wrong.

Four time world champion Sebastian Vettel was hiding under the glasses and the cap. He looks like any other regular dad with his fanny pack and the simple get-up. Margarette was now 3 years old with a crooked smile that makes her a spitting image of her father.

"Papa, where we gonna go today" the little girl couldn't contain her excitement.

"You are so energetic huh" Sebastian picks her up with ease and placed her to sit comfortably on his shoulder "We are off to see this beautiful place"

"What is it?"

"It's a secret but its near" Sebastian assured.

It was one of those trips that Sebastian have planned to spend time time with Margarette. The Spanish Grand Prix was just right around the corner so Sebastian is maximizing his time to spend with his little girl. Hanna couldn't help but feel a sense of joy seeing the two together. Maybe the two of them didn't work out as a couple but she was glad that Sebastian never abandoned Margarette.

"Papa are we going to that big palace?"Margarette asked "Mama look we are going to that palace"

Margarette was pointing to the tall construction of the Sagrada Familia. It made Hanna let out a small wow because she have heard stories about this place before but this was really a breathtaking sight.

"It's not a palace darling, its a wonderful church made as a biggest apology for the city's sin"Hanna explained.

"But Hanna"Sebastian interjected "I think this is the grandest showcase of love because they keep on working on it for years and years for the city's forgiveness and-"

Sebastian stops halfway. The memory of the place from years ago seems to dawn him and why the whole conversation was flowing out as if it was recited for memory.

"You alright Papa?" Margarette wondered.

Sebastian was quick to shrug everything away, "Let's go inside"

The inside was even more beautiful than its facade. Margarette didn't know where to look and she seems to be awestruck anywhere she gaze upon. Sebastian chuckles to himself plagued once more by the memory of a certain someone that he once toured with in this place.

Once again, Sebastian was at the pews muttering a prayer. Even now he doesn't believe but he prays to any mighty Being out there to take care of Y/N. If its possible, make her walk again and help her heal from everything that she has been through. Sebastian was sure there were some stray tears that runs down his cheeks as he prayed.

A tug at his side reminded him that Margarette was there sitting next to him.

"What do you pray for?" she wondered.

"I'm praying for a friend"

"Is that why you cry?"she pressed on more "Is friend sick? Is friend sad?"

Sebastian honestly don't know what to answer with the following questions. How could he say so when he didn't have any form of communications with her.

"I don't know baby if she is okay but I pray she is okay" Sebastian sighs.

Her tiny hands reached for Sebastian as if a way to comfort him. Sebastian held Margarette's hands tightly. Hanna watched the two of them from a pew behind not wanting to interrupt the moment of the two.

"You know they say we can get three wishes when we visit a new church" Sebastian diverts the topic "You should go make your wishes"

"Like a birthday wish? It will come true?"

Sebastian nods and he immediately noticed how she brightened up. She was at that age that she has so many to wish for and she wanted to wish every best thing in the world. However, after a moment she seems to smile.

"I'll wish for your friend to be okay" Margarette declared "And I hope you see friend soon"

"That's very thoughtful of you baby"Sebastian couldn't help but hug his little girl.

Silently, Hanna prayed as well for that wish to come true. She hopes that maybe Y/N could come back for Sebastian. She has been a witness to how much Sebastian waits for her to return and its clear to her now how much he means to her.

2017, Suzuka Circuit

Sebastian Vettel asked about when is he going to settle down.

After being stuck in a panel in the Japanese Grand Prix media day with a group of drivers who have wives and girlfriends, Sebastian Vettel sticks out like a sore thumb in the bunch. He was pressed as to when would he introduce a girlfriend or if he has any plans on settling down. The Ferrari driver joked that the media is just like his mother asking him the same question.

“The thing is, I am happy as I am at the moment. I am not cynical about the idea of love, its just that lets say that love has already found me early. Maybe I am a sappy or romantic but I intend to wait for that love to return to me because it’s the love that I have promised to wait for. Nothing compares to her.” The person behind Sebastian’s definition of love has remained a mystery to the media. It has already been years but Sebastian has not been spotted to bring any partners to the paddock.

When asked about his rumored daughter, Sebastian has admitted that he has a daughter. He refused to deny his daughter but he wanted a quiet and simple life for her.  “She is someone I treasure greatly. I intend to keep her away from the media as much as possible, she is one of the best thing that life has given me without asking.” He also mentioned that she is co-parenting with the mom of his daughter as they are great friends and nothing more.

2018, Albert Park

“Exciting season yeah Kimi?” Sebastian was his usual enthusiastic self.

The Finnish driver just shrugged a small yeah as they pass through security. Sebastian was already used with Kimi’s responses and he decided that it balanced out their duo. If Sebastian is the hyperactive one then Kimi is the laidback quiet one.

“Did you hear Jules' godkid is coming to the grid this season?" Kimi wondered.

Sebastian remembered how Jules has been mentoring a young kid before. He has mentioned his name multiple times but Sebastian have forgotten it already.

“Charles?”Kimi offered.

“Charles? The one we saw in 2015?”Sebastian asked

“Yeah that one. He got a seat at Alfa Romeo”Kimi nodded in agreement.

It was crazy how quick time passed by. It was just yesterday that he was racing with Jules and now he will be racing with his godkid. Sebastian could feel his age catching up on him with the new rookies joining the grid.

“We better go check on him and welcome him” Sebastian suggested.

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up later”

Sebastian headed to the Alfa Romeo garage which is quite a walk from the Ferrari garage. He stopped by to greet some of the media and the people at the paddock. But he has his eyes set on to welcome the newest rookie to the Formula 1 community.

"I'm looking for Charles Leclerc" Sebastian announced upon reaching their sister team's garage.

The mechanics were quite busy with the preparation for the car so all hands were on deck. It was a good thing that Fred Vasseur immediately caught Sebastian's presence

"I think he is the driver's room with his family" Fred smiled

"Can I interrupt them?"

"Go ahead, I'm sure Charles would love to see you her" he encouraged.

Sebastian made his way towards the room and he could hear the overlapping voices of Charles' family. It brings him back to the first time that he joined Formula 1 and his whole family has also been supportive just like this.

"Charles, be careful. I don't want you hurting yourself in your first race"

"So I can do it in my second?"

"You are a little menace, how do we put up with you?"

The bantering between them seems to keep Sebastian from disturbing them. He knew that he shouldn't be eavesdropping on them and he started to think that maybe he should just greet Charles later during the drivers' parade.

"But Charles listen to Pascale, you come back safe to us"

The chills that went down his spine when he heard that voice was like no other. He knows that person very well but he can't help but think that he may be wrong because its been so long. His heart started to beat loudly, his clammy hands shaking to twist the door knob of the door open. He was out of his wits to even overhear that Charles was getting out of his driver's room.

"Yeah, I'm-" the shock was visible in Charles face and he immediately steps out of his driver's room "Sebastian, I didn't know you were there"

Sebastian wanted to mentally facepalm himself to be caught in such an embarrassing situation.

"I just wanted to welcome you to the grid, kid" Sebastian manages to say

Charles shifts from his spot, "Thanks I guess"

It was obvious that Charles seems uncomfortable with Sebastian around. A normal feeling that a rookie driver would feel in his first season. Sebastian wanted to ease his mind a little.

"Jitters?"

"You could say that" Charles agrees "Maybe I just need a little bit of time with the family before I go out and race"

"You do that. I'll see you later"

"Thanks Sebastian"

As Sebastian retreats, Charles could let out a sigh in relief before entering his driver's room again.

Pascale was there with eyes wide as if asking his son if that's who she think it was outside the door. Lorenzo and Arthur were by the door seemingly anxious with the interaction.

"He's gone now and I think I managed to hold him off" Charles assures everyone "But I still think its really a bad decision for you to be here"

"And miss your first race in Formula 1? Jules would kill me"

Sitting at the corner of the room, Y/N Webber was there. Her face seems to have matured over the years but she still carries the same tricks just like how she is fiddling with her necklace.

All eyes of the Leclerc family was on her because this was the closest call that she have encountered with Sebastian after all these years.

"I have been careful Charlie. I have been to several of Mick's races undetected with him at the attendance. I have been in some Formula 1 races undetected "Y/N soothes "Calm down, okay?"

Charles couldn't help but feel a little bit guilty. He didn't want his debut to be the reason for Y/N's pocket of peace to be disturbed. He certainly didn't know that Sebastian was coming to greet him.

"I travelled a long way to watch you race so you better focus, okay?"Y/N encourages.

"Thank you for being here Y/N" Charles softens to a smile.

"But Y/N, aren't you planning to ever meet Sebastian again?" Lorenzo couldn't help but wonder.

The girl in question could just smile.

Honestly speaking, there wasn't an answer in her head at the moment. Hearing his voice just a door away was taking all of her self control to not run outside and hug him. She is scared if he would still welcome her back or would he still love her as much as she loves him even after all these years?

Fiddling with her necklace, the pendant that he has given still sits on the chain together with the ring he once gave her.

[byoldervine]

How To Always Have Writing Ideas…

For A New Story:

1. Keep a list. Any time you have one of those sudden bursts of inspiration in the middle of writing a separate story, don’t quit your current WIP or pretend you’ll ‘just remember it’, put it into a separate list. You can always go back to this later on

2. Writing prompts. Look them up, use random word generators, pick a random object you can see, whatever helps you come up with any idea at all. Write a few paragraphs. Can it evolve from there?

3. People watch. Go to a public place and make up backstories for the strangers you come across. That man in the hat is using it to hide his elf ears. That woman with the bright pink hair didn’t dye it, she’s secretly the main character of an anime trying to dodge all the tropes and cliches. That toddler is actually a guardian angel reincarnated to watch over their new baby sibling. What brings them to this place? Where did they come from? Where are they going next?

To Continue An Existing Story:

1. Act it out. Say the words aloud, act out what your characters are doing, get props or people to act off of if you need to. See what feels like the most natural progression of the moment

2. Coffee shop AU, or other substitutional one-shot. Good for establishing dynamics between two or more characters, or even just working out a lone character’s day-to-day. Just write a few paragraphs about your characters entering a coffee shop or similar appropriate establishment/ordinary location. What do they do? What do they order to eat/drink? What do they say to each other? How do they treat the staff and other customers? If all else fails, write what they do after they leave, as if it were an ordinary day for them

3. Rubber duck it. This is something programmers use to work out where they went wrong in their code, but I’ve found it can work for figuring out story stuff as well. What you do is get a rubber duck, or any other object of focus, and start explaining your problem to it out loud. In this case you can read your chapter to the duck, or even give it the full run-down of the plot so far. Warning; side effects may include getting frustrated that the problem was right in front of you and subsequently throwing the duck

For Both:

1. Writing graveyards. I talked a bit about them in a previous post, but writing graveyards are basically just the folder you store your deleted scenes in instead of yeeting them into the void. Reread those, see if they have anything you can recontextualise or repurpose

2. Combine ideas. My WIP Byoldervine is a combination of two separate plots I had that I realised I’d be able to combine - twice. I first realised I could put together my ‘angel and demon heroes protecting humans from a war between heaven and hell’ story and my ‘quest through the fantasy realm to find the ingredients to a cure for a dying god’ story into the same universe as two sides of the same story as a duology. Then I realised I could just remove a few characters, tweak a few plot points and mash them completely together into one book. Combining them works wonders and minimises worldbuilding

3. Go out with friends or family. I guarantee that the one time you’ll be flooded with inspiration is when you don’t have an opportunity to write it down

[thewertsearch]

@necrowyrm asked: happy new year!!! enjoy the last little bit of homestuck before act 6! Anonymous asked: You have NO IDEA how much I was looking forward to your reaction to this flash :D @teddy-bearer-of-bad-news asked: a very late congratulations from me for making it this far! i gotta say, saving CASCADE for new year's is probably the smartest thing i've heard all week. may your experience be nothing short of righteous, comrade Anonymous asked: Cascade … Even years latter knowing it almost by heart, every once in a while I will take a little quarter of an hour to rewatch it, Say what you want about Hussie but there is a good reason Homestuck became so iconic. @adeptarcanist asked: The leadup to Cascade was honestly my favorite sequence in Homestuck, and maybe one of my favorites in any media ever? The way the narrative splits apart into all of the different scenes swirling in towards the critical moment, both advancing main plots and finding time to spend a moment of melancholy with characters who’d been left behind (The Jaspers and Nepeta scene :( )… it’s such a strong narrative device, and the tone it generates is impeccable. @calamitascalliope asked: I literally watched the flash again, and it still gives me chills every single time. Welcome to your post-Cascade life. You won't be able to think about anything the same ever again @iris-in-the-dark-world asked: "she looks so cool… but she’s so tragic… but she looks so cool…" has become a brainworm for me. i too love the handmaid's design btw, cascade time has been i think the most anticipated non-personal event of the entire year for me. i'm so excited @publicuniversalworstie asked: I want you to know that I also opened Cascade and started watching with you right after I saw your "oh my god it has chapters" ask, and I finished just as you posted "I will never be the same" !! And I bet lots of other people did too <3 so it's like we all watched it together!!!! Happy New Year and thank you for liveblogging!!!! It's been a pleasure！(and will continue to be) @krixwell asked: I would like you to know that your "Right, we're good to go!" and "oh my god it has chapters" posts were posted right as I was outside watching midnight fireworks ring in 2025 for the Central European timezone. Happy new year! @captorations asked:

hey remember when rose just up and fucking said that. anyway congrats on reaching cascade! it absolutely wrecked me back in the day, i think i stared at those flaming curtains for a solid ten minutes as my brain permanently reconfigured. the first few notes of the track alone still give shivers. getting your reaction to cascade was a wonderful birthday present. (speaking of getting older: aradia 🤝 dulcinea also got that "distressingly short lifespan only to die early anyway" story thread going on. the parallels are paralleling.) anyway happy new year and congrats you are… slightly less than halfway done with homestuck. have fun!

Hey, guys. Cascade was so fucking good.

Like, there's really no competition; this is the best Flash page in the comic thus far. Peak music, peak animation, and absolutely a peak narrative. It tied up mountains of plot threads, providing complete answer to questions we're been asking for literally thousands of pages. It completed over a dozen arcs, both big and small. It made me gasp three times in fourteen minutes. It let Jade become a furry.

11/10, and I'm glad people had as much fun here as I did on New Year's Eve. Happy 2025, and happy Act 6!

@morganwick asked: Sally, predicting Cascade: "I have approximate knowledge of many things." @morganwick asked: "You literally have the whole world in the palm of your hands." -Sally to Jadesprite, December 16, 2024 (You might also want to reread post/770701212350857216 in light of recent developments.)

Hah!

I mean, based on her powerset, it made sense that Jadesprite would do something like this eventually, but it's pretty funny that she did it more or less immediately.

And in the end, CD really was a tricky little bastard. We'll definitely need to keep a closer eye on him, next time around.

Anonymous asked: Take a moment to consider that if anyone were to use the Homestuck website as it stands now instead of the Collection program, Cascade would have been presented in the YouTube player in Standard Definition, artifacted to hell, with a clear boundary showing the dimensions of the video from the very start. Preservation is so important.

Jeez, you're not kidding. The 1080p is fine, I guess, but it certainly doesn't hit like the Flash version does, especially with its lack of moving panels.

I know something had to change when Flash kicked the bucket, but surely there was a better way to preserve the video's soul.

Anonymous asked: to give you some of an idea of what homestuck fandom looked like during this time period, im cribbing from a very popular homestuck post: “first, this upd8 was something that we had been waiting for for WEEKS. A literally unprecedented wait period at the time. We were used to suckling at the teat of daily updates, a constant stream of conversation and plot twists and buildup, and as EOA5, we were finally going to figure out what all these countdowns and plot threads and disconnected elements were building up for. And when the progress bar reached 100%, and when the page FINALLY loaded on 10/25/11, it was chaos. This was 2011, a primetime peak point and growth period of Homestuck fan density.” (…) “MSPA crashed, as it had started to during the last few big [S] updates. Hussie had already bought new servers in advance, but even when allegedly thousands of dollars were spent it couldn't handle the accidental DDOS attack of Homestuck fans. People were up all night waiting for this upd8, the curiosity was killing me. I know at some point he was receiving at least 1 million unique visitors per day to his site [correction: according to Hussie’s tumblr, upwards of 2 million during this time], and even though Hussie had foreseen such traffic and thusly hosted [S] Cascade on Newgrounds, a dedicated video streaming site, Newgrounds was similarly unprepared for the sheer amount of people frantically mashing the play and refresh buttons, and also crashed. Immediately. MSPA and Newgrounds crashed definitively for at least two nights in a row” (…) “Andrew Hussie has gone on record to say this was one of the few times he thought Homestuck wasn’t worth it, because the sheer unbelievable cost (was it $10,000?) [correction: according to Hussie’s tumblr, it looked like it was going to cost $100,000 to keep [S] Cascade up for several days] of servers and the chaos of no one able to see the upd8 and crashing nearly every site after. He was tweeting during the whole debacle, stating he was reluctant to put it up on Youtube because of all the moving elements of the flash, and style, and how youtube degraded the quality of the file size, and how he tried to scratch out buffer time and pauses by putting periods of silence between each section of the 14 minute upd8, the longest upd8 yet” “So after Newgrounds patooted, he didn’t put it on youtube and instead put up the entire flash file on Megaupload, where it could be downloaded in it’s entirety to be watched. UNFORTUNATELY, Megaupload also crashed very quickly, which Hussie felt much headache over. But before that happened I managed to get the file, since I happened to be up very early that night! Next it was on dropbox, which didn’t crash but had “link unavailable” on and off. ”Spoilers were flying everywhere, people didn’t understand everything that had happened, and by the time the timeline of events in and out of [S] Cascade was all straightened out, people became even MORE hype. Like this whole thing lasted at least four days, and on top of that, the upd8 was good. Fandom exploded.” it is impossible to quantify the experience. The fact hussie was going to have to fork over A HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS to host it is crazy. I am never going to be over it.

Cascade's complete obliteration of the Flash-hosting internet says a lot about huge Homestuck truly was - but I think an even bigger indicator of the comic's success is the fact that Hussie dropped literally thousands of dollars on server upgrades to host the thing. That's not an investment you make unless you're expecting some serious returns.

[areyouwell]

Algophobia

Noun: An extreme and irrational fear of pain. Children and adults may have Algophobia if they possess an extreme aversion to feeling pain, typically physical.

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: nightmares, vomit, uhhhhhhh nothing intense really, for once... honestly can't remember and i literally JUST reread it :')

Word Count: 14.5K

A/N: told ya i'd keep writing. sorry this one took a little extra time, i'm literally on a train in France having finished editing and proofreading the chapter like, two minutes ago so slay boots. can't believe this fic is almost over like holy shit... congrats to anyone who's ready all of it so far because it's well within the world count of a novel and by the end will probably be over that threshold... so slay of us good job teamsquad also sorry if the layout is janky i hate posting from my phone

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

Birds. The chittering of swallows, to be exact. Beyond the soft beams of sunlight through the quartered window, the chittering of swallows had caressed him awake, a gentle breeze rustling the orange leaves against the glass, whispering secrets into the light of the morning.

It wasn’t rare Logan woke up before you, in fact, considering how little of a morning person you were, it was rare you woke up before midday full-stop—and this morning seemed no different. Occasional snores bubbled from your chest, you lightly swiped at an invisible irritation around your nose as you turned in his arms, nestling tighter into his chest. Logan hummed a tender smile, smoothing your brow with the pad of his thumb. Your features furrowed as you attempted to escape his touch, unappreciative of the disturbance no matter how gentle.

Huffing a small laugh, he allowed you to burrow further into his embrace, tightening his arms around your body. Six months of this. Six months of the quiet peace of escape. Honestly, he couldn’t be more thankful for the raid on the mansion that day. Here he was, the love of his life tangled in his arms, slowly waking on a sunny, breezy autumnal morning.

His eyes raised to beyond the window, smelling the rain on the air even from inside. Maybe an hour away? An hour and a half at a push. He groaned, realising he’d need to get the bike into the barn before the showers hit. Was leaving the cosy confines of the bed really worth saving and having to scale off some rust later? Absolutely not, but Logan knew you’d be mad at him if he let a splash of rainwater ruin all his hard work.

Pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your brow, your features scrunched in disapproval as she shifted you out of his embrace having to move quickly before you searched for him again and attached yourself to his arm. You whined gravelly protests but settled back down when he pulled the covers back up over your shoulders. He’d make a coffee for you when he came back in. One of those strong ‘morning’ coffees you called them. With at least three heaps of espresso, no sugar, no cream, just caffeine.

Slipping on a fresh pair of jeans and a deep green flannel that you said brought out the colours in his eyes –utter bullshit in his correct opinion– Logan tip-toed down the stairs almost comically slow. He knew you wouldn’t wake. The sun could have exploded and you’d be more irritated if it had woken you up before 1 pm, but he still liked to take care not to disturb you, more out of principle than anything else.

The morning was as crisp as he initially thought, his skin prickly with the cool breeze. He hadn’t bothered with his jacket, since he would only be out for less than thirty seconds. Pulling the tarp from the bike and flicking up the kickstand, he wheeled it back up the small slope and into the barn. If things continued going the way they were going, Logan thought about perhaps clearing out some of the rusted old machinery, maybe making room for a chicken pen, or maybe a stall for a cow or something. You’d be good at raising animals, he thought. And he preferred the idea of getting fresh produce rather than having to head to the store every week or so.

It was an idea that refused to leave his head as he looked around the small space. Just against the far wall, he could imagine a little coop where the old, rusty plough now lay discarded. It would be a ballache to remove it, and Logan didn’t doubt the sharp edges where the metal had rusted away would get a good few swipes in, but it seemed worth it in his mind’s eye to see you crouched next to the nest, holding up a single egg proudly as if you’d laid it yourself.

But if he was to get started, he’d need his jacket. And maybe a thick pair of gloves. Sure, he could heal, but that didn’t mean you didn’t get pissed at him when he wouldn’t take these kinds of precautions, bringing up that one time he said he wanted to do things like a normal couple, to which you’d use to your advantage. “Normal people don’t simply heal their wounds three seconds later, Lo’.”

It was endearing, how much you cared. How hard you tried to keep him safe despite the fact he literally couldn’t be hurt. With a fond smile tugging his lips up at the thought of you, Logan draped the tarp back over the bike, securing the tags around the frame before patting the motorcycle, much like Todd did.

Todd.

Logan blinked. Why did he suddenly have the urge to tear into the man’s chest and rip out his fucking heart? Was his anger returning? But Todd hadn’t done anything, at least not that he could remember. Sure, he was flirtatious with you, but you never let it go too far and it made you laugh, so there wasn’t much harm there. So where the fuck did this sudden urge to split his skull come from?

Taking a deep, calming breath, he attempted to release his anger with his exhale, feeling the rage simmer down slightly, though still extremely accessible beneath the surface. Maybe he was too far away from you. Oh, he was down so bad if that was the reason. He refused to believe it until he left the barn, pulling the bolt shut, and turning to see you in the doorway, two mugs of steaming coffee grasped in your hands.

Was there a better view? He couldn’t think of anything sweeter than what he was seeing, the woman he loved, leaning against the doorframe to the cabin he shared with her away from the rest of the world, safe and free and at peace. Your soft smile could start a war, and your laugh could end it. There was no clean line to where you started and he ended, your very souls totally and completely intertwined.

And you lost her.

Logan whirled at the trees above, searching for where he swore he’d just heard a voice hiss. But he saw nothing other than clouded blue skies and fluttering leaves like an artist’s palette of a sunset. You called his name and he slowly turned his head back to you.

And froze completely.

A small crimson stain started to spread from the centre of your chest, sanguine blood flowing from a fresh wound down your front. Panic leached the colour from his face as he lurched forward, only for his feet to be stuck to the ground. He looked down frantically, tugging at his thighs in an attempt to pull himself free. You were supposed to be safe. He was supposed to keep you safe.

A strangled gurgle was ripped from your throat and he looked back to you just as you opened your mouth, a fountain of blood bubbling from your scarlet-stained lips. Trying to scream resulted in nothing but a rippling stream of sanguine with a guttural yelp. A hand gripped your shoulder from the dark beyond the doorway, a serrated knife dragging a thin line across the hollow of your neck as your palms flew to the arm holding you still in a weak attempt to stop him.

Logan desperately clawed at his legs, eyes unable to look away as Dr.Kreva stepped out from behind your bleeding body, the knife held in his closed grip. A roar tore up his voice, scraping up along his throat as the serrated edge of the blade inched further into the tendons of your neck, snapping through the muscles with a sickening squelch. Your eyes widened as your voice cut off, hands gripping Kreva’s arm falling limp by your sides, light fading from your irises.

Smoke rose from somewhere behind the cabin, and Logan could only blink before the wood erupted into flame, licks and tendrils of scorching reds devouring the exterior. He could do nothing, stuck in a quagmire of his guilt, hands of fire clawing up your legs, igniting your clothes, melting the flesh from your bones. Kreva’s glasses shone in the golden glow, stepping back into the inferno and disappearing as the support beam collapsed.

Staring in abject horror, Logan fell forward, finally released by whatever held his fast. His knees bit as he struck the earth, facing your skeleton lying face down, blackened bones of your hand outstretched towards him in a final, desperate plea for help.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” He whispered to your vacant corpse. He’d failed you. Keeping you safe was his only fucking job and he’d failed. He promised you he wouldn’t leave, he wouldn’t abandon you, and he’d fucking failed.

The shadows rippled and contorted around your skeleton, rising from the ground to conjure seven figures. The same silhouettes he’d woken up to stare him down six months ago. Simultaneously, their hands stretched out over you, void-like fingers splayed, and your bones began to sink into the earth.

The ghost of your body rippled beneath the surface of the darkness before the black smoke curled up from the soil, an eighth shadow figure reforming from the void to complete what he had suspected ever since he’d read the file. There were eight of you. Eight Subjects.

Nine Lives Minus One.

They were the literal shadows of your past. And it terrified him that you had now become one. Logan’s heart thundered in his chest as he looked between the eight figures, shadowing faces simultaneously snapping to look at him, head cocking at unnatural angles.

The one he knew to be yours reached up to its neck, wrapping its long thin fingers around its own throat, before squeezing. A scream echoed in his ears, tearing at the walls of his mind before he was thrust forward, falling through to reality.

Nausea roiled in his gut as Logan jolted awake, bolt upright. The image of your charring body, flesh dripping from your bones burned in his mind’s eye, and that slight nausea shifted to the undeniable urge to vomit.

Staggering from his bed to the bathroom, bile burned his throat as he emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet, the sounds of his own gagging echoing about the empty stall.

Two months. It had been two months since he’d lost you. And every day felt like thirty. Rage and grief accompanied him like a constant companion. The memories of your laughter, your smile, your teasing comments haunted the halls of the school, corridors once alight with comfort and giggles now felt cold damp. Absent.

They were making progress. They reassured him every long, long day, they were making progress with locating you. Charles had almost locked himself away with Cerebro to locate you, but it was difficult to get a read on anything when any signatures he felt from the once-destroyed facility kept slipping from his mental grasp. Subject One, or Obscurity, was somehow hiding all and any neurotransmitters from the old environment centre. Either that or what whole place was coated entirely with steel, which was also a possibility.

But none of them knew because nobody could get close enough to fucking find out. It was damn near impossible without alerting upwards of sixty armed guards to their approaching location. And whilst Logan would tank the bullets and take them all on alone, Scott wouldn’t let him, and neither would he let him endanger any other member of the team by storming a full frontal assault.

So Logan was forced to wait. And wait. And wait. Every day, you slipped further from him. That first night without you, he’d borderline commandeered the Blackbird to get to Todd. He needed to know what happened. Why he did do it? And it wasn’t a polite conversation.

Rage coursed through his veins as he sliced open the lock to Todd’s garage, throwing up the doors with enough force to break the mechanism completely. Pausing only to sniff the air, Logan growled as he scented Todd’s presence, a frantic Ororo trailing behind after him, placing a weak attempt at a placating hand on his bicep. But he didn’t want to be calmed down. Logan wanted blood. Fuck that, he craved blood. Wanted to taste it as he ripped Todd’s throat out with his damn teeth.

Though the office light was off, Todd’s scent was stronger in that direction, and Logan was fairly certain he was hiding. Good. Smartest decision he’d made in the last six months. Although he would have been smarter to start running the second he betrayed Logan’s trust and had you ripped away from him.

With a balled fist, Logan thrust his hand through the glass on the door, barely wincing as shards of glass embedded themselves in his knuckles. It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to that kind of sensation. And true to his senses, Todd swore from behind the desk, his voice shaky. Good.

“It better have been fuckin’ worth it for ya.” Logan snarled, ripping the desk from its roots and tossing it aside as if it weighed nothing. Various effects scattered about the floor, a lamp shattering upon impact, files and paperwork strewn like flyers in the wind.

“Jus’ w-wait a minute. I didn’t ‘ave a choice. Bastard threatened my family, what would you ‘ave done?” Todd held his hands up in defence, bowing his head as Logan’s adamantium claws slid from his freshly healed knuckles. The man’s eyes widened in horror. “Yer a fuckin’ mutant?”

Ororo’s eyes blanched, lightning crashing through a telephone pole beyond the doors outside. The blood drained from Todd’s face, as the realisation dawned on him that, they were all mutants.

Logan hated how he understood the man’s fear. And he was right. If the roles had been reversed, if it had been you who was being threatened, he would have cracked in an instant. If your safety was compromised, there was nothing he wouldn’t do to ensure right whatever had happened.

“Fuck. You’re a fuckin’ weasel, Todd. I fuckin’ trusted you!” It was taking every fibre of his self-control not to plunge his claws through his throat and rip through his tendons, but he took a deep, steadying breath.

“What happened, Todd?” Ororo asked, her eyes fading back to their natural colour.

Todd sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Round three months after y’all moved in, this glasses-wearing sleezebag waltzed into this shop like ‘e owned the fuckin’ place, askin’ after the pair of yous. I told ‘im to get lost, I weren’t in the business of information. Till ‘e asked about me wife. And me daughter, Lisa. Put the fear of God in me I tell ya.

“I didn’t ‘ave a choice, Logan, I swear it. I’d never ‘ave told ‘im anythin’ if I knew this were gonna ‘appen.” He pleaded, and Logan had to step away to stop himself from at least punching the shit out of him.

“That’s why you called me, isn’t it? Not cuz of the money, but cuz you knew what was gonna happen.” The question was rhetorical. Of course that was the reason. And if he could turn back time, he would have picked up the phone in an instant, no questions asked. Maybe he could have avoided this altogether and you’d be safe and sound, curled up by his side, back at the mansion.

But as it stood, Logan’s mutation wasn’t time travel.

“I didn’t know exactly, but yeah, I knew somethin’ was gonna ‘appen tonight…” Todd admitted, resting his elbows on his bent knees. “I liked ‘er Logan. I did. She was–”

“Shut the fuck up.” He hissed, running a stressed hand through his hair. It was only 4:36 am. You had roughly two hours on him, but if he left now and took the bike, maybe he could catch you. Or better yet, if he took the Blackbird…”

“Logan…?”

No. He’d have to land the Blackbird, which would take far too long and he also wasn’t used to piloting something like that.

“Logan?”

He’d take the bike then. Head back to the cabin with the truck and exchange vehicles. But that would take too long, even if he floored it. Fuck! The truck was nowhere near fast enough either. He had to make a choice here, sacrifice time with the small possibility of catching up to you, or possibly sacrifice you and tail Kreva so he leads him straight back to the facility.

“Logan!”

He blinked, turning back to Ororo, who had her arms folded across her chest, her brows pinched in sympathy. “You can’t go after her. It’s too late. We need to strategise this because clearly, they’re expecting you to follow her immediately,” she explained, and he grit his teeth. She was right, and he fucking hated it. Because every second wasted here was yet another second you were in their capture, and fuck knows what they would do to you this time. The thought terrified him. “Come on… we’ll head back to the school, figure something out.” Logan didn’t move, his eyes hard as he glared at Ororo, the thought of leaving your behind had his gut writhing like a ball of vicious, furious snakes. Storm sighed, realising he wasn’t going to be convinced so easily. “She was a member of our team, Logan. She was our friend. We’re not abandoning her…” There was a determination in her eye that genuinely gave Logan a kernel of hope. She was right. You were their friend. You’d made such an impact in their lives, and they weren’t about to give you up so easily.

With an extended sigh, he nodded. Fine. He’d play by their rules. But the moment things stagnated, he’d fucking find you himself.

“I’ll look after yer truck. She’s–”

“I don’t fucking care.” he snapped, not bothering to spare so much as a glance over his shoulder before returning out to the jet.

That was two fucking months ago. And he was certain things had stagnated and he just wasn’t being told. Scott had banned him from surveillance missions, claiming his fuse was too short for missions such as those, and that if he saw where you were being held, he’d snap and tear through anything and everything in his path to get to you.

Not something Logan could disagree with, but he only acquiesced because Jean convinced him it was their best bet at finding you. It physically fucking hurt not to be involved in your rescue missions, but he knew it was for the best. He didn’t particularly want anybody else hurt or captured or killed or whatever the fuck they’d do to them.

Making sure his stomach wasn’t about to surprise him with another surge of bile, Logan stood to the basin, running the cold water from the tap and cupping his hands, splashing his face vigorously in a lame attempt to wash away the nightmare. Because that’s all it was. Just a nightmare. And despite him having intimate knowledge of your mutation, the fact that the last he saw of you, you were bleeding out on a floor of tarmac, scared the shit out of him. He knew you could heal. There was documented proof of you healing from several bullet wounds, however he couldn’t shake the image from his brain.

You barely knew what had happened before you dropped to the floor, your delicately concerned smile for him morphing and shifting to an expression of complete and utter shock. The crack of your skull on the pavement, the harsh gurgle of your coagulated blood as you spat at Kreva….

You didn’t have a choice. He knew that. He knew your body would have given into the shadow in a desperate attempt to heal yourself of the bullet in your chest, but that didn’t make the memories hurt any less.

That was the last he saw of you, and it fucking haunted him. Exhaling a shaky breath, Logan stared into the droplets in the sink, before raising his head, limp strands of dark brown hair hanging damp around his eyes. His gaze shifted to the reflection of the shower. It had taken him almost a week after being back to garner the courage to use it. Not only because every time he closed his eyes he saw your bleeding chest and blanching face, but also because it was identical to the shower in your ensuite, and it fucking hurt to be near it, let alone in it.

The porcelain cracked beneath his grip, pulling him from his memories back into the present. There were times he wished he could simply let himself be lost to the past. At least he was with you there. But he promised he’d find you. He promised he’d never leave you. And he didn’t intend to break it.

Shrugging on the same flannel he’d been wearing for days and a pair of extremely worn jeans, Logan checked his watch. Two minutes past nine. His lips tugged in a bittersweet smile. You’d be furious. Running a hand down the side of his face, Logan opened the door.

Only to find Scott standing on the other side, balled fist held up as if to knock a few times on Logan’s face. If he had the energy, Logan would ask him what the fuck he thought he was doing, but it seemed the team was taking it in turns to make sure he was alright now and then. Poor Scott. It seemed he’d drawn the short straw on a particularly shit morning.

“What?” He asked blankly, fighting the urge to silently barge past the man. Sure, they may have shared a sweet moment of understanding after he’d lost you, but that was two fucking months ago. And moments of sweet understanding weren’t enough to make up for the fact you were still missing.

Scott blew out a sigh of relief, clearly expecting Logan to simply walk past him. “Uh, Marie’s looking for you. Says it’s urgent? She wouldn’t talk to any of us…” Scott sounded almost suspicious, but the moment he mentioned it was urgent, Logan was gone, shouldering past him and down the hallway. “She’s out the back!” Cyclops called after him as if he needed any kind of help with directions. He could smell a plan brewing from a mile away.

True to his nose, and annoyingly, Scott’s directions, he found Marie out by the pond, alongside Kitty, Bobby, Peter, Jubilee, Julian and to his heartwarming surprise, Artie. All of them were dressed in their gear, other than Artie who’d simply donned a black pair of trousers, a black t-shirt and a matching beanie.

“We want to help,” Marie said by way of greeting, and Logan folded his arms across his chest, releasing a slightly exasperated breath. Honestly, he was shocked it took this long for them all to catch on. He was back, and you were nowhere to be seen. Classes had all but ceased completely and the Professor wouldn’t be seen for days, sometimes weeks on end. The rest of their little team nodded with boundless determination.

His chest ached with the knowledge there was no way he was about to let these students, your students, run head-first into danger, no matter how much they wanted to. “Look, kids, as it stands, we don’t even know–” he paused, having to steel his nerves. “We don’t even know if she’s still alive.” It was entirely true. He knew you were alive. You had to be. He’d feel it if you weren’t, right? That’s at least how it felt to him. You were part of each other now, neither whole without the other. If you were head, he’d know it.

Kitty clenched her jaw, her hands balling into firsts by her sides, and Logan felt a pang of guilt. She knew. She must have known he was lying. She was somewhere between a student and an X-man, hovering between still learning and a member of the team. Being so close to you, however, it also seemed she had been left out of all the fun. His sympathy morphed into empathy, feeling her frustration as his own.

“She’s still alive.” Your friend whispered through clenched teeth, and Logan blew out a sigh. “They won’t let them help, sure, they’re still students, but I’m not. I’m part of the goddamn team, Logan. And so are you!” She hissed, and Marie and Bobby shared a look of concern before Rogue’s hand touched her shoulder compassionately.

“We don’t care that we’re students. You said it yourself, we’re stronger than anyone realises. We can help.” Bobby urged, and if Logan was being honest with himself, their argument was fairly convincing. They were strong, much stronger than even you realised. But he also knew that if–

No. Not if. When they got you back, if you ever found out that he’d allowed the students to help on the mission, he was pretty sure you’d castrate him.

“I’m sorry, I can’t let ya. Not only cuz you’re still students, but you all know, if she found out I was the one who let you help, I’d be killed.” Huffed a smile of understanding. Of course, they wanted to help you, you’d helped so many of them in the past. But he didn’t think that was it. This wasn’t out of some favour for a favour obligation towards you. You were loved. You were so so loved, by so many.

And by nobody more than him.

“Be our spy then.” Jubilee offered from behind Marie, to which Logan raised a brow.

“And how would I do that when? I’m not involved in the planning.” He tried so hard to keep the frustrated growl from his voice, but Artie's slight step back proved his failure. Fuck.

“You gotta convince them. Please? For us?” The hope in Marie’s voice took him right back to where he’d found her almost three years ago now, running from her past. Running from herself. It made sense how you and she got along so well. You were both running.

Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, Logan could feel seven pairs of eyes all trained on him. He wasn’t one to bend to peer pressure, but at the same time, he needed an excuse for himself to get involved, and if doing it for the kids was enough, then that’s what he’d do.

“Alright. Alright. Damn, you sure none of you has a persuasion mutation?” He asked in a lame attempt to lighten the mood. At least Artie found it funny, the kid giggling away to himself in the back.

Marie beamed in gratitude, leaping into his arms and giving him one of the squeeziest hugs Logan thinks he’s ever received. “I knew you’d help! Thanks, Logan, as soon as you hear anything, please let us know, kay?” She stepped back and Logan once again felt that familiar stab of guilt impale his gut. He knew he was going to have to lie to them, because the moment they found out some kind of progress had been made, they’d be out the door like a shot before he could even start to yell ‘wait’.

“Yeah yeah, just don’t mention anythin’ ‘kay? They don’t let me know anythin’ as it is, so this’ll be hard enough without them thinkin’’m feeding back information to the damn students.” Logan grumbled, running a hand through his hair. “Okay?” He repeated after a beat of silence, only this time to a chorus of nodded heads and various ‘yes sir’s. “Good, now back to classes, all of you.”

“But… Professor Grey didn’t turn up to teach us…” Julian chimed in, to Logan’s irate twitch of his brow.

“Then go and study.” His voice left no room for argument as each student bowed their head in defeat and dragged their feet back inside until his was just him and Kitty left behind. Logan studied her face for a bit, much more crestfallen than he’d ever seen her. “Y’alright?” He asked, though instantly kicking himself for the ridiculous question. She was probably just as alright as he was, which was absolutely not alright at all.

Kitty clenched her jaw again, unable to raise her eyes further than the blades of grass at her feet. “She left again…” Logan’s heart cracked for her. You hadn’t had time to explain anything eight months ago after the attack. He didn’t even think you saw her before you left, unable to say goodbye before you were on the road with him. And now, he’d returned and you were still gone.

“She didn’t want to, kiddo. She didn’t have a choice…” he didn’t know how much Kitty knew about your situation, but he assumed anything regarding who you were, what had happened in your past and who had taken you was kept on a need-to-know basis. He hated every tear that spilled from the poor girl’s eyes, her frustration conflicting her her confusion. Wordlessly, Logan stepped forward and enveloped her in his embrace, finding the way she instantly fell into his chest heartbreaking.

“I miss her so much…” she managed to sob, her fingers clutching onto the arms of his jacket. Tears pricked his own hazel eyes, having to tilt his head up to stop them from falling. He hadn’t heard his own agony spoken aloud like this, and pain wracked the centre of his chest.

“Me too.” was all he could utter back, fighting to keep his voice stable, clearing his throat in an attempt to loosen the lump constricting his breathing. Kitty stepped back from his arms, furiously wiping the tears from her cheeks with the heels of her palms.

“Right, yeah, ‘course you do. Sorry, I didn’t mean–”

“You’re good. It’s actually kinda… refreshing. Everyone tip-toes ‘round me like ’m gonna bite their head off. Can’t really blame 'em.” He shrugged as if it wasn’t that big of a deal. He guessed he should be grateful for the way people were trying to be respectful, but it only resulted in pissing him off monumentally.

“You have been looking like you want to tear the school down recently…” Kitty giggled lightly, and Logan relaxed, thankful he was able to bring a smile back to the girl’s face. His chest constricted as he thought of your proud smile. Teaching the kids he could do. Making them feel better in any kind of capacity? That’s where he fell short, but you excelled. “S’just… Jade was like a sister to me. I hated her for what happened, but we leant on each other so much, she became the sister to me Jade used to be. And I never told her I didn’t hate her anymore. Because I did, or, at least part of me did, but I let that go…” Kitty took a deep breath, tilting her head to the sky as fresh tears stung her eyes. “What if– what if I don’t get to tell her that?”

Logan grit his teeth. “You will. Listen, I still gotta buncha shit I wanna say to her, and there’s nothin’ that can stop me from sayin’ it. We’ll get her back, aight? I promise.” He sounded a lot more confident than he felt, but Kitty blew out a long breath, her tears remaining behind her lashes. If he could bring her some kind of comfort, then perhaps he could start believing it himself. You weren’t dead. He was set on that. But you were in pain. He knew that too. Because whatever they did to you in the past wouldn’t hold a candle to how things had changed in the last seven years. New technology, new information, new drugs.

New weapons.

He shook his head. Thinking about what you were going through wouldn’t help to get you back. And as if sensing his train of thought, Kitty stepped forward and put a hand on his arm. “We will get her back.” She reiterated, only this time it was for his benefit. He offered her a weak, grim smile, before turning back to head into the mansion once again.

Only to be stopped in his tracks by Jean who came sprinting out the door, almost colliding straight into him. She skidded to a stop, pausing as if she couldn’t find the right words. Logan raised a brow.

“We have a lead.” Was all she said, though her words took a moment to register, Kitty came barrelling up behind him. “Or rather, we found a way in.”

Rap rap rap!

A groan rumbled from your lips as you held your pillow over your ears, your head pounding. Your shift last night had been long and brutal, and that was without the endless shots your coworkers poured for you.

Rap rap rap!

“Fuck off!” You called back, hearing a light giggle from beyond your messy bedroom door.

“C’mon, it’s almost midday! You can’t sleep forever!” You attempted to hide beneath the covers of your bed as Morgana opened the door, her face as bright as it usually was this early in the morning. And by this early, you really meant eleven-forty.

“I’m serious Morgo, fuck off. My shift was exhausting and I just want to sleep forever…” you complained, almost hiding as she drew back the curtains to your window. “Morgana?!”

“Get. Up!” She leapt onto your bed, hardly mindful of wherever your limbs lay, before snuggling in next to you, crimson strands of curly hair falling into your face. You sighed heavily. You loved Morgo, you really did, but she could be a total pain in your ass sometimes.

“She still not up yet?” Rowan called from the door, and you swore lowly as he too stepped into your room, followed by Atlas.

“Yeah sure, party in my room. Free real estate up in here!” You called sarcastically from beneath the covers as Rowan attempted to pull them from your body. You gasped in horror, clutching the duvet like your life depended on it.

“Don’t you fucking dare Rowan, I will drown you in shadow I swear to fucking god!” You bit, earning yourself a fit of giggled from Morgana and an appalled gape from Atlas. Your brother placed his hands on his hips, raising a light gold brow as he looked down at you.

“If you could control your powers like I can, maybe I’d believe you, freakshow. C’mon, ouuuuuut of bed.” He strained against your strength as you briefly played tug of war, before you gave up when Atlas stepped in to help your brother, ripping the covers from your clutch with their combined strength and dragging Morgana with it, the girl falling off the foot of your bed with a heavy thump.

“Hey! What the hell?” She slapped Atlas’ thigh and the poor boy jumped back, offering her a shrug of an apology. She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Ya know, I don’t know a single twenty-two-year-old who lays in bed all day. Oh, wait, yeah I do. It’s you.” Rowan poked your now exposed foot and you went to kick him half-heartedly. He took a single step back, out of your range.

“Yeah well, none of you fuckers work nights so–”

“I do!” Erin poked her head around the door, toothbrush sticking out from between her white frothy lips. It seems you weren’t the only one out late. “Well, shometimes, it–”

“Take ya brush out ya mouth, Erin…” Atlas sighed, a hand braced against his brow as if being around you all was exhausting. The girl rolled her eyes, tilting her head up so her minty saliva wouldn’t drip all over the wooden floors.

“It depends on the rota, I don’t work late every shift, unlike you.” She finished, placing the toothbrush back in her mouth and dipping out of sight. You heard the tap run as Erin spit out her toothpaste, returning around the door as she wiped her mouth, “We need to get you a new job, girlie. This one’s destroying you. Honestly, you could carry my weekly shop in the bags under your eyes.” Erin crossed the room with the sole purpose of prodding the centre of your nose, before plopping her ass down on the bed next to you.

You looked at the four of them individually, finding a bubble of happiness blooming in your chest. You loved these people. They were your family. They were everything to you. And despite your shitty job, your long hours, the tiny apartment that the seven of you were supposed to share, and how antisocial Naji was, you found yourself feeling extremely grateful for your circumstances.

“I’ll look into it…” you sighed, much to Erin and Altas’ shared glee. Clearly, he was getting tired of healing your various bar-wounds, coming home with various cuts on your palm from where you’d completely misjudged the fall of your knife when slicing up garnish.

“Knew ya would!” Erin chimed, twirling a strand of her badly dyed green hair between her fingers. Her justification was that she could control nature, so surely she should look green, no? But her original black roots had started to show through and she couldn’t be bothered to go through the faff of dyeing it all over again, so she’d just decided to grow it out.

With an irritated sigh, you stretched your arms high above your head, rolling your shoulders in an attempt to rid yourself of the crick in your neck. “Fine, I’ll get up. God, I hate Saturdays. None of you motherfuckers seem to work weekends either.” You grumbled, shooting an exasperated look to Atlas as he muttered ‘language’ under his breath.

“Did you have ya dream again?” Morgana asked, finally removing herself from your floor and dusting herself off. Rowan and Atlas went to head back down the stairs, where you could now smell bacon rising from the kitchen. Maybe it was worth getting up if Rowan was making breakfast. Or lunch, you guessed.

“Hm?” You asked, having not listened to her question at all. The girl rolled her eyes, slapping your arm as she followed you to the bathroom.

“Your dream? Did ya have it? I need to know more about Mr.Sexy and his hot claws.” She grinned and you snorted a laugh, before taking a moment to try to remember if you even dreamed at all last night. Though your awakening had been rude, you’d awoken feeling a slight panic in your chest which had nothing to do with Morgana storming your room. Although if you were being quite honest, you didn’t really want her to know more than she already did. You had a sneaking suspicion she was writing down your dreams in the hopes that she would dream of your nighttime visitor.

“Yeah, actually, I did…” you started hesitantly, giving her reflection in the mirror a flat look as she clapped her hands excitedly. Erin scooted over across your bed so she could be involved in the conversation, listening through the open door. “I don’t remember much of it,” you confessed, rolling your eyes as Morgana’s face fell. “But it was pretty mundane. We were just…” you took a moment, pretending to try and remember what it was about. “We were just chatting. On a bed, but like, a four-poster bed. Same one as last time, with the whole crossed gun thing above the headboard” It was one you’d genuinely had before, and Morgana’s shoulder sagged in disappointment. “Sorry Morgo.”

“Wait that’s so cute, why’re you apologising?” Erin called from the bed, and you snorted a laugh.

“Because I’ve had that one before. It seems to be recurring.” You shrugged, feeling a little nugget of guilt swell in your gut. Now you’d thought about it, your dream last night had been harrowing. You were caked in blood, lying on the road. He was reaching for you, stationary, the world around swirling and blurry with shadows before you blinked and he was gone. Two months you’d been having dreams similar to this one, or at least starring the same man. He was incredibly attractive, hence Morg’s nickname for him after you described him to her, but you knew nothing about him. Each dream he was silent. You were too. You were just near each other, either doing mundane things or going through what you assumed was the worst moment of your dream self’s life. It was really fucking weird.

“Awww… I wanted something new.” Morgana pouted and you narrowed your eyes at her reflection, spitting your toothpaste into the basin before splashing water across your face in a lame attempt to freshen up and wash away the memory of your nightmare.

Twirling to face her, you placed a hand on your hip. “Yeah well, seems my mind’s just conjuring shit on repeat now sooooo…” you made a face and Morgana stuck her tongue out at you, before padding out the bathroom with you in tow.

“Still, s’interesting you get dreams of the same guy. S’like you’re having a relationship in your head… wait no that just sounds sad.” Erin furrowed her brows in an attempt to think of another way of putting it, but gave up almost instantly. You flopped back down on your bed, leaning forward to your chest of drawers against the left side wall, and the fact you could easily reach the drawers from your bed was a testament to just how small your room was. Pulling out a loose pair of sweats and a grey hoodie, you didn’t hesitate to strip in front of the two girls. Having known them since childhood, it was an uncommon occurrence for the three of you to change in front of each other. And this was no different. Though Morgana’s brows furrowed as her eyes found a scar cutting straight across your chest, from just above your left breast, over the centre of your breastbone, to down below the right-hand side of your ribcage. It was gnarled and jagged, a slice made without much care, but you couldn’t remember a time when you didn’t have it.

“That’s new, when’dya get that?” She asked, eyeing you suspiciously. You’re head cocked to one side, raising a brow in confusion.

“I’ve always had this, whaddya mean?” An ember of concern ignited in your gut as you regarded her for a moment. You watched the way her eyes lost focus, almost dissociating for a moment, before she shook her head to clear the haze behind her eyes.

“Right… yeah no you totally have. Sorry, must be goin’ nuts.” The girl grinned, and you inhaled a relieved breath. You didn’t need Morgana careening off the rails right now. She was the one who kept you stable, or at least less grumpy.

“S’alright. Tough few days?” You tugged on your sweats, already hating the fact that in two hours, you’d have to be getting ready for work. It took an hour to commute to the bar, that’s if the buses were on time and not disappearing randomly. God you fucking hated the public transport here.

Morgana nodded a little absently as if still fighting back whatever brain fog she’d just encountered. “Yeah, something like that…” She trailed off, and you didn’t push any further. It happens to all of you from time to time. You were talking to Altlas the other day about the way you’d all graffiti the walls of your first hideout when you were kids, talking in detail about the first sketch you’d done before transferring it onto the wall. Only, he didn’t remember it that way. You went back and forth for a while, until he had that same faraway look enter his eye, and all of a sudden he was agreeing with you, as if a switch was flipped in his brain.

“Oh! Before he left Joseph said you could have the rest of his milkshake, by the way. In payment for the pasta you made him yesterday.” Erin chimed in, examining her nails, her legs sprawled across your bed like it was her own. And honestly, you all acted like that. The rooms were all pretty communal at this point, you’d known each other for so long.

You perked up a little. Milkshake and bacon? Maybe getting up before midday was worth it after all. Not that it was much before midday now, and in fact, the small alarm on your watch just told you it had just gone twelve. Only two hours til you needed to leave.

Fucking great.

“Kind of him, I’d take it with me if Carlos wasn’t such a stickler for company drinks. I think he’d stab me if I brought in my own…” You half-joked, to both Erin and Morgana’s morbid shock.

“Girl we really need to get you a new job.”

“Like, ASAP…” Morg finished, and you scoffed slightly. You didn’t need one that badly. Just one within the next few years would be nice…

You blew out a breath, standing from your bed after pulling on a pair of warm socks. There was a winter chill in the air, and you were certain this year was going to be a cold one. You could feel it in your bones. Rubbing at your arms, you almost slipped down the stairs, Morgana’s hand instantly steadying your steps in a hand clutching your arm. How fucking tired were you? It felt like your legs straight up didn’t damn work.

“Enjoy your trip?” You heard Rowan call from the stove, and you clenched your jaw against your dumb smile. God, you hated that joke. Or, at least, you told yourself you did, when in actual fact it made you smile every damn time he said it.

“Ha-ha, yeah ‘see you next fall’ you’re so fucking funny Ro’.” Smoothing your brow with your hand, you went to sit at the breakfast far, the rest of your found family having forsaken a dining table upon moving in and instead opting for this slightly decrepit, unstable wooden bar with garish-coloured seats that were various heights. Even the lighting matched the anarchy of the decor, the scrappy bulb flickering every so often. None of the furniture matched in your apartment but to be honest, that was part of the reason you loved it so much. It was chaotic, but it was home.

Your heart spasmed in pain, to the point where your brow furrowed. What the fuck just happened? Rowan seemed to have noticed as well, sending your an inquisitive look, which you instantly brushed off. Nothing to worry about. At least, not yet.

Rowan shrugged, shimmying the pan of baken in his hand before removing three slices and placing them on a plate before you, alongside a freshly washed fork clearly leftover from last night’s takeout they all had that you weren’t invited to because you were at fucking work goddamnit.

“Thanks, Ro’, smells great.” You offered him a small smile, one he returned, before heading over to the far too-small fridge to dig out the rest of Joseph’s milkshake he’d said you could have. You didn’t mind making pasta for him yesterday. In fact, you kind of enjoyed it. Most of the time, when the rest of your family ate, you were at work so you never got the opportunity to cook for them. That was mostly down to Rowan unless he was working the late shift at his apprenticeship, in which case the two of you would leave together and the other’s had to fend for themselves.

It was often a bombsite when you’d return.

With the first mouthful of crispy, smokey bacon, you quickly decided getting out of bed was worth the aggravation, even more so when you dumped a whole load of maple syrup onto your plate. You don’t think you’d ever met a Canadian in your life, but if and when you did, you might just have to kiss them for even being associated with maple syrup.

Speaking of sweet treats…

“Anyone want one of my special hot chocs? I’m annoyed and up early so my treat for having to deal with me,” you grinned a little wickedly into your milkshake, the room whirling in complete surprise, to the point where you had to hold up your hands in defence. “What did I say?”

“Whaddya mean ‘special hot choc’?” Rowan asked accusingly. “I’ve never taught you how to make hot chocolate before!”

“Yeah, I’m with Ro on this one. Since when did you have a special hot chocolate recipe?” Erin almost pouted, as if you’d deliberately been keeping it from her.

You thought for a moment. They were right, you didn’t always have a hot chocolate recipe. You only learned that from…

Wait, who?

And when you went…

Wait, where?

Maybe you didn’t have a special recipe after all. Were you just remembering things wrong? YOu must be. Where and when would you have picked up a special recipe for Christ’s sake? You haven’t been anywhere with anyone to have done that.

Must have been the exhaustion talking. The lights flickered again.

“Must be going crazy…” you mumbled, accepting the fact that no, you didn’t have a special hot chocolate recipe.

You felt something wither away and die in your chest.

“You really gotta stop all those late nights.” Rowan placed a hand on your shoulder, concern etched in the pinch of his brow. It hadn’t been too long ago you and Rowan had fought, the argument you’d had still echoing in your brain. It was over your mutation, and his since it was so similar yet the complete opposite. He’d berated you for not having gained control of it yet after accidentally plunging a supermarket in a blanket of shadow upon finding out they were out of your favourite bread. It wasn’t your fault, really, but you’d made the whole situation worse when you lost complete control.

Three people were taken to hospital.

Two of them died.

You shook your head. Now was not the time to be thinking about that. You’d managed to repair the relationship between you and your brother, there was no point dwelling on the past.

The idle chatter of the kitchen continued as you fell silent, turning your attention instead to the strange series of dreams you’d been having. Most of you only remembered because Morgana would remind you multiple times a day by bringing it up all the time. But there was one thing you hadn’t told her that had occurred in almost every single dream you had.

One word.

Or an animal you guessed.

Or a bug.

Were bugs animals?

Did the animal kingdom include fish and birds as well as mammals?

Shit, you were getting off-topic. Your brows furrowed in concentration, trying to remember your train of thought. What the fuck were you just thinking about? Your jaw clenched with the effort of remembering. You swore you were deep within–

Firefly.

The chair clattered behind you as you shot from your seat, eyes round and wide in panic. What the fuck was going on? Where were you? You could barely register the faces of those around you, but you knew you hadn’t seen them all in a long long time. You weren’t supposed to be here. None of this was real. You were back, he’d found you again. Shit! Where was L–

“You okay…?”

The tension left your body as Morgana settled a hand on your shoulder, her auburn brows pinched in worry. Darkness swam at the edges of your vision, before you shook your head slightly, freeing yourself of your daze.

“Yeah… shit, yeah, sorry. Fuck, what is wrong with me today?” Your voice shook slightly as you gave your family a slightly nervous smile, bending to pick the chair back up. Fuck, you really needed to sleep more. Fucking job was going to kill you off. For sure.

A quick flick of your wrist and you saw you had around an hour and a half before you needed to leave. A heavy sigh blew from your lips as you downed the rest of Joseph’s milkshake he’d so kindly donated to you, before shooting an annoyed look to the bulb as it briefly turned the kitchen into a club dancefloor, before winking out completely.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me…” Rowan lamented, placing down whatever protein shake he’d opted for the morning and dragging over a barstool to stand on. “I told Naji we needed to get this shit fixed and he told me he’d text the landlord, but this is just–”

None of you were strangers to natural phenomena. You were fucking mutants, for Christ’s sake, your very existence was a natural phenomenon. However, watching a barstool blink out of existence entirely wasn’t exactly on your list of things you’d ever seen. Or even things you would like to see. Rowan was cut off midsentence as he crashed to the floor.

You all stood in utterly stunned silence.

“Y’all saw that too, right?” Erin asked, glancing warily around the room before taking a small step toward Atlas next to the window. Well, that was one suspicion you’d had confirmed then. Tension thickened the air, static apprehension making your saliva sweet and your breath hot. What the fuck was going on?

Rowan stood from the ground, dusting himself off, his gaze tracking warily around the perimeter of the room. Another mutant, perhaps? It wasn’t exactly common in the area, but it wasn’t unheard of. Some poor kid with shitty control over their new mutation discovers their first big act of power was accidentally erasing a barstool out of existence. “Chill out, it’s most likely a power cut or some new electromagnetic mutation. We’re fine.” Rowan attempted to soothe, though his voice was anything but convincing. Especially when a squeaked gasp emitted from next to the window, where Atlas had flipped up the blind to the outside world.

“Does the sun get power cuts too? Or did you just absorb a bunch of light this morning, Ro?” Morgana asked, though her eyes were trained on the pitch black outside the crummy window. You crossed the kitchen alongside Rowan, the five of your leaning out of the window to get a good look at whatever the fuck was going on.

Or rather… not going on.

“What the hell…?” Rowan muttered as you all watched the outside world flicker in and out of existence. One second it would be the neighbourhood you’d come to know so well, the next the sky turned grey and grainy, like an old TV trying to find signal. The flat next door would completely disappear, replaced by walls of steel. Your heart raced, stomach flipping.

“Joseph’s still at work…” You breathed, and Morgana turned to you as if she’d only just realised it too, fear flickering in her dark crimson eyes.

“I’ll text him, let me–” Atlas was cut off swiftly, the floor beneath your feet flickering, before that too completely disappeared, and you were all plummeting to the ground. Wind whipped at your hair as you desperately flung your arms out in search of a shadow.

“ERIN!” Morgana screamed as Erin’s hand extended before her, attempting to search for some kind of plant life. But your flat had become nothing, merely glitches of light around you. A strong arm circled your waist and turned to see Rowan’s golden eyes wide with fear.

“My shadow!” He called, flipping the two of you so you were beneath him. You didn’t think twice, trusting he had a plan before your molecules dissolved into the darkness across his front. You could still hear the rush of wind, Morgana’s cry of pain before the descent started to slow and you could sense various shadows around you growing. The moment your world seemed solid enough, you reformed, your eyes taking a moment to adjust before you registered Altas healing the nasty looking cut on Morgana’s hand, blue glowing particles rising from where his palm encased her hand.

She must have slowed your fall, the steel floor now a pool of blood where she’d borderline drained herself to save the rest of you. Wordlessly, you crossed to where she swayed slightly, placing her arm around your shoulder to act as a support.

“Thanks…” She murmured, closing her eyes to recover from that woozy feeling of using too much of her power. You went to brush off her gratitude, to tell her it was the least you could do after she’d just saved your lives, before part of the wall before you started to close in an inch. With a hiss and a screech, the steel split in two, casting a rectangle of blinding light and causing you all to throw up your hands.

“Guys?”

You all knew that voice, and there was a collective sigh of relief when Joseph stepped through the door. But the voice you knew to be full of jokes and laughter sounded exhausted, beaten. Defeated. Where the fuck had he been?

“Joes? What the fuck is going on?” Rowan called, dimming the light so you could all remove your hand-shaped shields from your eyes. “Where’ve you– Holy shit are you okay?” Rowan ran forward, catching Joes as his knees buckled and he crumpled to the ground.

A gasp flew from your lips. He was caked in blood. And not in the way Mogana would be if she somehow lost control. He’d been hurt. Badly. Almost surgically. Various parts of his skin had been removed to leave behind raw, pulsing muscle exposed to the outside. His face had been all but completely disfigured, where his eyes used to be dark and inviting, the whites were now bloodshot and his pupils dilated.

“Move,” Atlas instructed sternly, Rowan shifting slightly to the side before he lay his hands on Joes’ chest in the same way he did for Morgana, those same blue particles rising and winding around Joes like grapevines, dipping into his various wounds and closing them over.

“They’re here to help us,” Joes muttered, his head lolling to look back out the gap in the wall. What the fuck was he talking about? Help you do what? One moment you were all having brunch and you were sipping a milkshake, the next your fucking flat had disappeared and you’d all plummeted fifty feet straight down.

You cast Morgana a confused glance, now recovering quickly, and she sent you one right back. “Who’s here?” You asked, eyes lingering on the fear in Morgo’s before Joes pointed out beyond the darkness and into the light.

Three elongated shadows shrouded the light, but it was the one in the centre who drew your attention. Broad-shouldered, strong-armed, with two little flicks of hair licked up either side of his head. You knew that outline, like a memory forgotten, or a faded dream. With the light behind them, you couldn’t see their faces, but you could see they all wore the same suits. The girl on the right gasped, her hands covering her mouth as she almost fell to her knees.

Morgana tilted her head in confusion, and you shrugged, not taking your eyes from the three shrouded figures.

Though you felt a well of unspecific emotion rise in your chest as the man in the centre spoke, his tone soft, voice deep and gruff.

“Hey, firefly.”

Logan didn’t know what he would say to you when he saw you again. When Jean had told him they’d found a lead, he expected it to be at least another month before anything would actually happen about it. He wasn’t expecting the entire team to have assembled already, suits and all, prepared to head out that night. His chest constricted with impatience when the team were stalking the halls. He knew they all had the element of surprise, but if he was being honest, stealth was never really his strong suit. He just wanted to find you. He just wanted to hold you and apologise as many times as he needed to in order to ease the heavy weight of guilt off his shoulders.

What would he say to you? How much he’d fucking missed you? How sorry he was he couldn’t protect you. How he’d promised he’d keep you safe and then lost you? But the moment those doors opened and he saw you, with Sanguine leaning heavily on your shoulders, all and any words quickly left his mind. You looked tired. That wasn’t to say you didn’t always look tired, but you looked fucking exhausted. Dangerously skinny, as well. The muscles on your arms had all but faded, your cheeks had hollowed, and your neck looked like it could be snapped with a light breeze. Fuck you looked so fragile.

“We’re gonna get you out, okay?” Logan took a step forward, only for you and the rest of the mutants to take a step back. A spear thudded into the centre of his soul as he watched you try to figure out what was going on. But it was the look in your eyes that shattered every fibre of his being.

Unfamiliarity.

You had no idea who he was.

“They don’t remember,” Joes said, rising from the floor once Atlas had taken a step back away from Logan, Scott and Kitty. She’d insisted she came with the rest of the team and said she’d just hide in the walls anyway, so they may as well take her along willingly. Scott begrudgingly agreed.

“We don’t remember what?” Logan’s eyes slid to the man with the golden hair and eyes, who looked remarkably similar to you. Rowan. His eyes narrowed. “Joes what the fuck is going on? What don’t we remember? Who are you fuckers?”

“Rowan!” The man next to him hissed. Judging from his appearance and general attitude, Logan guessed that must have been Atlas, or Harmony. He’d already run into Joseph, and rescued him when Ororo controlled enough lightning to short out their electrical units, plunging the facility into total darkness. All that was left of that practice room was blood and entrails.

Logan had made sure of it.

“None of this is real, Ro’. They’ve been forcing Naji to fuck with our minds, man. Every time one of us goes to ‘work’, they take us out into the real world and fuck with us. You saw the state I was in, man. C’mon!” Joseph pleaded, and Logan could see the cogs turning in your brain as if trying to process what he was saying.

“The fuck are you talking about?” The girl with the bright green hair piped up, boldly stepping towards Joseph and dragging him back towards the rest of the group protectively. “Who’s ‘they’? Whaddya mean fuck with us?”

“Naji wouldn’t do that, Joes.” Your just managed to keep the tremor from your voice, dropping Morgana’s arm from around your shoulders and taking a cautious step towards your brother. What the fuck was going on? You looked between the three newcomers, the girl on the right stepped forward, and your eyes narrowed on her. “Another step and you’re dead.” You hissed, extending your hand behind you to the shadows as if you could do anything but disappear into them. Morgana drew out her knife from her boot and sliced open her palm, blood swirling and morphing until three sharp spears floated above her head.

“Let’s all just take a breath…” Logan murmured in an attempt to soothe the rising tensions in the room. Why he’d thought this would go smoothly, he had no idea and found his present self kicking his past self for making such stupid fucking assumptions. He held out his palms in peace, trying in vain to come across as non-threatening as possible, his eyes trained on you. “It’s okay…” His brows pinched as you looked at him with disdain.

Who the fuck was this guy? Sure he looked and sounded exactly the same as your dream visitor, but you refused to believe they were one of the same. Just some freaky coincidence, and you didn’t even know if his mutation was the same. He hadn’t shown anything yet, and for all you knew, it could be something completely different.

But a hole of doubt had burned through your gut.

“Wait… isn’t that–”

“Shut the fuck up, Morgo.” You hissed before Morgana could even finish her inquiry. You knew exactly what she was about to ask, you’d felt her eyes flicker between you and the man ever since he’d called you firefly.

Total coincidence…

“She has a point though. Naji wouldn’t do that to us. Sure he’s antisocial and spends most of his time in his room, but we’re still his friends. His family. He wouldn’t do that… would he?” Uncertainty laced Erin’s tone as she eyed the three outsiders suspiciously, reaching into her back pocket. You glanced her way, holding your breath. You knew what he had stored away in her cargo pants, not just in her back pocket, but in all of them. Various seeds for every variety of plant you could think of, her favourite being the Venus fly trap because of course that was Erin’s favourite plant.

Logan’s chest spasmed at Erin’s words. He knew he was going to have to take them all to Charles and return their memories to them. Not knowing what would happen to the bonds you’d all made with each other terrified him. What if that just made everything ten times worse? What if you and the others remembered everything and decided to go along with Kreva’s plan? He’d already seen Rowan, Morgana and Joseph working for Kreva…

What would stop them this time?

“This is taking too damn long…” Scott muttered, throwing a glance behind his shoulder to make sure nobody was sneaking up on them. Logan couldn’t help but agree. It was taking far too long. He didn’t want to take any of you by force. That was a last resort, and only if you couldn’t be convinced. If it went against your current wishes, he honestly didn’t give a fuck. You weren’t safe here. You were back where you started, and he’d be fucking damned if he was leaving without you today. Taking the others was a luxury, taking you was the priority.

“Let me talk to them. Please. They don’t know what’s going on. Naji restores our memories before the testing begins, but they’re always erased and replaced when we come back. They don’t know anything, just give them time.” Logan couldn’t help but feel sorry for Joseph. He was the only one out of the group, perhaps other than Naji, who knew what was going on and was stuck between saving his friends and getting the fuck out of there.

“You have thirty seconds.”

“Scott!” It was the first time Kitty had spoken up since seeing you, and to be honest, Logan had almost completely forgotten she was there. She’d been non-verbal, dealing with whatever she was dealing with after seeing you in the state you were in for the first time in two months. Now, however, she seemed to have recovered.

Unlike Logan, who still found it difficult to look at you, yet equally difficult to look away.

“Thank you, man,” Joseph nodded his head in gratitude, before turning back to the rest of the group. “Look, I don’t know how to convince you, but they got a mutant back at this crazy mutant school that can help get your memories back. He’s like, the only one other than Naji who can do it.”

“If this is true,” you began, folding your arms across your chest in a way that had Logan holding his breath, the familiarity nauseating. “Then why don’t we just ask Naji to restore them? He’s our fucking friend, Joes. Why would he do this?” You implored him to see reason. To see that there was no reality where Naji would work against the group, antisocial or not.

“Because they’ve–”

“Now now, Subject Three. Don’t go spoiling all of our secrets now, will you?”

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled, though the voice meant nothing to you. You didn’t recognise it at all, but you noticed the way the three newcomers all bristled and the way Joes seemed to shrivel in fear. Following ‘Scott’’s gaze, you looked up to see Naji, bruised and beaten, his neck held in a vice grip by some formless, faceless figure with a large gun slung over his back. The mirrored window had been smashed open, blood leaking from Naji’s knuckles as his legs dangled over the side, held out over the shattered glass by the throat.

“Joes…” Rowan growled in instruction, the rest of you already being on the same page. Joes could teleport not only himself but various other people of different numbers depending on size and mass. But the man just stood there, his eyes wide, nostrils flaring in utter terror as Naji gurgled and fought against the hold around his neck.

“Kreva.” You heard the muscular man behind you snarl, and your mind did somersaults as three long, razor-sharp claws slid from his knuckles. There was no point in denying it anymore. It was most definitely the same mutant from your dreams.

“Ah, The Wolverine. How darling to see you again. Here for Subject Eight, I presume? There’s no point. It remembers nothing of your cosy little forest getaway.” Dr Kreva covered his mouth theatrically, gasping as if he’d made a terrible mistake. “Oh no, have I said too much? No matter. Once all you X-men are disposed of, this will be nothing but a bad dream to them. Isn’t that right, Eight?” It took a moment to realise the skinny, crooked-nosed man was addressing you, but how the fuck were you supposed to know that when he wasn’t even calling you by your name. And what the fuck did he mean by ‘cosy forest getaway’? You’d never even left the city.

“The fuck is going on…?” You asked aloud, taking a step back and towards Joes, who was still stuck in frozen, abject horror. “Joes… you gotta get him. He’s gonna fucking kill him!” You hit his arm with enough force to break the man from his terror-stricken paralysis, only for him to blink away from you, shaking his head wildly as if his mind was a wasp’s nest, his nails digging into either side of his temple.

“No no no nono nononononono–” Your mouth fell agape in fear as he fell to his knees, small rivulets of blood leaking down either side of his face as he clawed at the sides of his head.

“Joes?”

“Joes!”

“The hell?”

Adrenaline pumped through your blood as you slowly started to realise whatever the fuck was going on, it very much was not good. In fact, it was most likely that all of your lives were on the line. And you knew that right here, right now, you had to make a choice. You all did.

“You got a clear shot, Scott?” Kitty asked, stepping behind Logan slightly. Though he didn’t mind. As long as she was safe and out of the line of whatever fire could come their way, he was more comfortable. Now if only he could get you in a similar way.

“Lined up.”

“Don’t shoot!” Rowan waved his arms frantically as Scott’s fingers braced against his glasses, jumping between the mutant and his friend. “If you shoot Naji’s dead, for sure. Just– just hold on, okay? We can figure this out.” He pleaded, to the amusement of Dr. Kreva from above, his cackling laughter sure to haunt your nightmares for a good long while after.

“Oh, Five… always the peacekeeper. Always the pacifist. It’s a shame you’re such a killing machine, though nothing like your sibling. We should showcase that, Eight. Show them all what you’re capable of…” Kreva placed a thumb and forefinger beneath his chin mockingly, once again making a show of having you all at his mercy. “In fact… One, if you could. Not too much though, just enough to unleash the Phantom.” You felt your blood turn to ice in your veins. That was your mutant name… how the fuck did he–

Pain ripped through your mind as you fell to your knees, your hands biting painfully as you caught yourself before you broke your nose on the ground. Though where you should have felt cold steel, you instead heard the groaning of tight leather and a low grunt of impact.

It felt as if you were being unstitched, torn open with a rusty knife. Your head split apart and searched inside as Naji’s mutation invaded your conscience. You heard a scream coming from somewhere but were too focused on trying to stay sane as memory fragments of pure agony were thrust into the inner walls of your mind, scraping down your subconscious. White hot pain laced through your throat and you finally realised it was you screaming, your voice cracking and breaking as you fought Naji’s hold.

Rowan screamed your name as Logan lunged forward to catch your fall, dragging you into his lap and holding your arms by your sides. “We gotta go!” He roared to Scott, who nodded in agreement, barking out orders just as Kurt bamfed into existence. Morgana reached for you as Kurt placed his three-fingered hand on her shoulder, her desperate scream cut short as she was teleported from the room. Logan turned his attention back to you, back to the searing torment etched on your face as you writhed in his arms. “I know baby, I know, it hurts, just hold on.” He called your name soothingly, though his voice shook. Seeing you like this, in such pain, ripped at his self-control. And he loathed how you would have to do this all again when he got you back home.

What Logan didn’t know, was that you’d heard his voice, and held onto it. You wouldn’t let yourself be manipulated so easily. Fighting Naji hurt. It hurt like hell. He was fucking strong, winding a white-hot thread of memories throughout your head, but you thrashed and flailed from his twisting web, using your dream visitor’s voice as an anchor point.

“What’s happening to her?” Logan’s eyes left your face for two seconds to meet with a pair of golden ones he’d only ever seen fighting against him. Rage flared in his gut as he thought of the man who’d assisted in your capture, but this wasn’t the same guy. Sure, he had his body and his face and his powers, but this was a sibling. A brother. He was your brother, and Logan could see that in the way terror pinched his brows and widened his eyes.

“I don’t know, but we need to get her out. Now.” Logan responded, removing a hand from your arm to smooth back your hair as your neck all but snapped backwards, head almost rolling off his lap completely as your entire body contorted violently. It was getting worse.

Rowan nodded, a flicker of determination glittering in his golden eyes, before extending his hand out towards the light. “I can buy you time. Get her safe,” he instructed, and Logan found his rage toward him settling slightly. “I’m R–”

“Rowan. Yeah, I know. She spoke about you a shit ton.” He gave Rowan a half smile as his head tilted in confusion. Logan held out his hand. “Logan.”

Though the bafflement didn’t fade, Rowan shook his hand nonetheless, before getting to his feet, his hand still extended towards the light. “When I say run, run.”

“Thought you were a pacifist?” Logan asked, holding you tight against his chest as he lifted you from the ground, the shadows in the room now quivering in anticipation. Naji was winning. With a glance to both Scott and Kitty, he could see they’d been listening in and were ready to bolt at a moment’s notice.

“Not when they threaten my fucking sister,” He spat, the skin along his forearms and neck beginning to glow a bright, blinding white. “Go.” Was all he said, before the room erupted in sunlight, and Logan took off at a sprint, keeping you close to his heart. He had you back physically, your strained breaths and grunted whimpers told him that much.

Now he just needed to get you back mentally. And for that, he needed Charles.

“S’okay, you’re okay, just a little longer baby, I know…” he soothed as he raced round the corner, struggling to hold you still as you fought his hold, the darkness of the corridor lashing out in great, spiked tendrils, slashing at his arms and legs and leaving searing lines of crimson through the leather of his suit. His stomach flipped as he looked down at you, your spine arching back, head snapping, eyes rolling up behind your skull leaving behind nothing but black, hollow darkness. He was losing you. Fuck, he was losing you.

“C’mon on sweetheart, c’mon.” He ground, feet pounding against the floor as one of his shoulders was ripped back, knives of pure shadow tearing through flesh. He grit his teeth against the pain, racing through a set of open doors and launching the two of you towards the stairs, taking them two steps at a time. Your mouth opened as you released a strangled scream, your limbs jerking and flailing in his grasp, Logan almost losing his grip on your writhing body. Tucking your head between his collar and jaw, he pressed on until he could finally see the service door they’d snuck in through. “S’okay, not much farther now. Keep fightin’ him, firefly. You gotta keep fightin’.”

Serrated knives tore through your memories, flashes of pure, unadulterated agony rushing your nerves, setting your veins alight with liquid fear. Thrashing your head back, you attempted to clear your mind’s eye of Naji’s hold, razorwire slicing at the base of your brain. You had very little knowledge of brain anatomy, only knowing the basics, but you knew for certain he was attempted to break through your hippocampus both physically and hypothetically. But you held onto him. Onto the man who, in turn, held you. A kernel of safety shining within the ocean of fiery anguish. You held onto his voice, their meaning.

Shadows swirled around your wrists, encasing your hands in two sets of obsidian claws, raking down both sides of Logan’s arms. You were losing the battle, he knew you were, if Joseph was right and you didn’t remember anything, there was no way you’d have this kind of control over your mutation. Using his already-healed shoulder, he burst through the locked service door and barrelled down the stone tunnel, out into the night-air. He didn’t know what Obscurity’s range was for his mutation, but he had to assume it was limitless. Anything less and he was likely to let his guard down.

Breath burned in his lungs as he sprinted for the jet, hearing the door behind him open and close another two times for both Scott and Kitty. He didn’t know how many of your friends Kurt had managed to rescue, but it didn’t matter to him. You were there, in his arms. And as long as that was his reality, he didn’t give a shit about anything else.

His feet thundered against the metal of the ramp, and ducking into the deck of the Blackbird, he was greeted by an extremely concerned-looking Jean the moment her eyes lay on you.

“Help me…” Logan begged, collapsing to his knees, and the redhead wasted no time in extending her hand towards your rapidly twitching head, veins of pitch black etching their way up your neck towards your temples. Instantly, Jean grimaced, her mouth gaping in some unseen pain as she entered your mind. All Logan could do was sit and watch helplessly as she engaged in some kind of mental battle with Naji. Her brows pinched with effort, the tendons along the backs of her hands flexing and tensing with strain. Logan desperately swiped your sweat-matted hair from your brow as if to clear a better path for Jean’s mutation.

“Jean!” Scott barked, fear echoing around the deck of the jet as he lunged forward towards his girlfriend, only to be held back by Ororo, who looked utterly exhausted. She’d been high above the facility, concentrating on keeping the power down with various surges of lightning. And now she looked completely spent.

Slowly, gradually, your twitching started to cease, each muscle in your body relaxing separately as Jean managed to exorcise your mind of Naji’s manipulation, until you sagged in Logan’s arms, your breathing steady, your eyes closed as if you were just sleeping. Scott broke free of Ororo’s hold, rushing for Jean before she collapsed onto the hard ground. “You okay?” He asked, bracing her face in between his palms. Jean offered him a tired nod, a small smile pulling at her lips.

“Got her back.” She murmured, and Logan clenched his jaw to stop tears welling in his eyes. He gently manoeuvred your body to lie comfortably in his lap, the back of your head nestled in the crook of his elbow, his arm encasing your waist. You were back.

You were back.

Kitty knelt beside you, a hand grasping your limp, skeletal one, tears silently sliding down her cheeks. Logan knew what she was thinking. What she was contemplating. What had they done to you? What fresh horrors would you be battling once they returned your memories? Logan’s thumb slowly caressed your protruding ribs. He’d be there with you. Whatever you had to endure next, whatever fresh hell awaited you when you woke, he’d be right there next to you.

“We gotta go…” Scott muttered urgently to Ororo, who looked out beyond the ramp to the Blackbird, awaiting Kurt’s next arrival.

“We can’t… they’re still in there!” Morgana raised her head from where she’d been sat on one of the seats. “Atlas, Joseph, Naji and Rowan are still–” she was cut off by another puff of blue smoke, Kurt falling to the ground and releasing Rowan’s arm from around his shoulder. Blood leaked from the blonde’s nose, his hands braced against the steel as he caught his breath.

“Is she okay?” Were his first words, barely looking around before his golden eyes rested on your unconscious form and Logan’s protective hold. He could almost smell your brother’s disdain, his nostrils flaring as he slowly pieced together the narrative in front of him. “Logan, right?”

Logan nodded once, returning Rowan’s cold look with one of his own, baring his teeth ever so slightly as he tried to gauge the threat of you being taken from him again. Rowan visually backed off, his expression to exhaustion. “I guess a lot can happen when you don’t see someone for eight years. As long as you take care of her, that’s cool with me.” Rowan shrugged, having recognised just exactly what he was looking at.

As the Blackbird rose from the ground, Morgana clicked the belt across her middle and shakily made her way over to sit next to Rowan, eyes flickering between you and him.

“So… those dreams she had… they were actually memories?” She asked him slowly, and it took a moment for Logan to process all the subtext of the question before he nodded again. Even with your memories replaced, you could never truly forget him. The realisation made his chest swell and his heart ache. He was acutely aware of Rowan listening into the conversation. “Holy shit…” She breathed, tapping your arm lightly. “I hope you’re listening, you lucky bitch. He’s fucking gorgeous.”

So this was the Morgana from the reports. This was the girl he’d read about, not the one who aided in your capture two months ago. What the fuck had Kreva done to you all? How could he get Naji to manipulate you all in such a way? To the point where you’d all help him. Although it was a nice breath of fresh air for even a thread of humour to be woven into the cockpit. “Right, Erin? You’re with me on this, yeah?”

Morgana turned to the green-haired girl who’d curled up against the wall, her hands hugging her knees against her chest. “Erin…?” Morgana asked tentatively, and only then did Erin look up.

“We fucking left them.” She spat, her eyes rimmed red with unshed tears. “Atlas… Joes, Naji…. We just fucking left them. You got your precious Phantom back and just abandoned the rest of them.” Her hands flexed around her knees, chest tight.

“I’m sorry…” Kurt piped up from where he’d been nursing a small graze on his arm. “I couldn’t… It was carnage in there. I rescued who I could but–”

“Yeah well, it wasn’t fucking good enough. Who said we even needed rescuing anyway? This could all be total bullshit.” She hissed through gritted teeth, and Rowan placed a hand protectively on your shoulder. Logan knew he shouldn’t have bristled the way he did, the man had proven himself loyal, but he couldn’t help the memories of that night flashing to the forefront of his mind.

“Erin, we’re not abandoning them. We’re gonna go get them back, right?” Rowan looked to the rest of Logan’s team, who in turn looked at each other in uncertainty. They had you back. That’s what they came for. But something niggled at Logan’s mind. You wouldn’t stop there. If the tables had been turned and you were saving him, you wouldn’t stop until everyone was safe. He himself included, but that was given.

“No. We’re not abandoning them,” He spoke for his team, five heads snapping towards him, each with their own look of shock. “Ya know she’s just gonna go after them herself, right? And she wouldn’t stop til they’re all safe. And I dunno ‘bout you, but I ain’t letting her do that alone.” He finished, and Kitty smiled at him with tearful determination.

“Agreed.” She said, turning to the rest of the team. Ororo nodded and Scott sighed heavily, only swayed when Jean placed a hand on his arm.

“Alright then… guess that’s our next mission.” Scott sighed, irate.

“Thank you. They’re our friends so we really– Joes?” Morgana’s head tilted to the side as suddenly, seemingly out of thin air, Joseph blinked to existence, Rowan’s wrist held firmly in his grasp. Logan’s heart stopped. This wasn’t the same mutant they’d saved from testing during the mission. His eyes were glazed over, subdued hatred burning in his pupils as Rowan turned to his friend.

“Just Five.” He rasped, white foam leaking from his cracked lips.

“Joes? What’s–”

“ROWAN!” Logan roared, lunging across your form to take hold of your brother, only his fingers grazed nothing but thin air. Whatever Naji had done to Joes, it was the same thing he’d done to Morgana that night. And Rowan all too often.

But he was gone. Your brother was gone. And now there was no debate about what you’d do when you woke.

He just hoped, that whatever Charles restored, would be enough to get your brother back too. For your sake.