#so now if he's in any province

[wileycap]

Selected Correspondence of Fire Lord Zuko

As preserved by the Royal Archives

1.

My good hotman Zuko,

It's Aang! Sokka let me borrow Hawky. Please feed him before sending him back.

I'm writing to ask if it's okay for me to drop by. Except I'll probably be there by the time you get this, because Appa flies faster than Hawky. Still, it's polite to ask!

Write back (or don't.)

Hot regards

Your friend Aang

-

Revered Avatar Aang

Hawky arrived two hours after you left. Never send me "hot regards" again. Like I keep telling you, language has changed in the past 100 years. It doesn't mean what you think. Future historians will think we were having an affair.

It's always okay to drop by. Hawky has been fed.

May your inner fire warm you (write that down somewhere)

Fire Lord Zuko

2.

Hi

need 3 fire benders (zappy) + few construction workers + a lot of copper

Delivr to harbor

sokka

-

Honorable tribesman Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe, son of Chief Hakoda, Hero of the 100 Year War

No.

May your inner fire warm you

Fire Lord Zuko

-

Dear Jerk Lord of the Jerk Nation, Master Jerkbender and All-Around Jerk

quit being stingy and send me what i need. seriously. the fate of your nation is at stake. LOOK:

[drawing of two pickles, a stick figure and waves]

Hot regards

Sokka

-

Sokka

Your drawing makes no sense. I'm writing a law which bans you from owning a messenger hawk.

I found you three volunteer firebenders who can lightningbend. They'll be there in a week with four carts of copper. If you need construction workers, beg Toph, don't bother me.

Feed Hawky better. He's malnourished, he keeps begging me for more food.

And don't do that.

Fire Lord Zuko

3.

Dear Honorless Usurper

My, how the time flies. It seems as if it was only yesterday that I was supposed to be crowned Fire Lord, and here we are, celebrating the first full year of your doomed reign. I salute you.

Know this: you won't know peace for long. I have entered into an alliance with Admiral Noboru. He is a true patriot and has kindly offered me three ships and 2000 men to retake the throne. He has also generously offered to serve as my consort, "despite my mental deficiency."

I am writing as a courtesy, as it is obvious that the throne will soon be mine. I might even let you live.

May Agni's light shine on you*

Azula

Fire Lord-in-exile

[* common benediction for the dead during Fire Lord Zuko's reign]

-

Dear Sister

Thank you for writing. I spoke with Noboru. I told him that I was allowing an Agni Kai and that you were on your way.

Noboru has fled the country. He gifted you his whole estate, see the enclosed list. He said to tell you he's sorry and not to come after him.

Please come visit any time. I hope your healing is going well.

May your inner fire warm you

Your brother Zuko

[enclosed: A list of assets including a home in the 5th Province, a vacation home on Ember Island, 20 acres of farmland, a substantial amount of gold and silver and assorted property]

4.

Zuko

this is the worst copper i've ever seen??? i want a refund. you're the worst copper merchant ever.

sokka

-

Sokka

You didn't even pay for the copper. I'm not giving you a refund. And I'm not a copper merchant. I didn't even buy it, somebody else did. What's wrong with it?

I can send you more if you need?

Fire Lord Zuko

-

Sokka

I sent you two more carts of copper. This is the best copper we have, so if it's not good enough, you can get your own and stop mooching off of me.

Fire Lord Zuko

5.

[on a thin sheet of metal]

Sparky! Earth Rumble 8 is two weeks from now. I'm coming to pick you up in the morning two days before.

Check it out: I can write now. Katara helped me with the characters but I've got it now. Hawky isn't strong enough to carry these, but Katara's dad is letting me borrow Seabreeze.

It's TOPH.

-

Dear Lady Beifong

You can't just come pick me up! I'm the Fire Lord. Two weeks isn't enough time for me to arrange days off.

I'd like to come watch you knock some heads, but I can't. Sorry.

Feed Seabreeze. Seriously. What's wrong with you people? Every bird you send me is starving.

May your inner fire warm you

Fire Lord Zuko

-

[on a thin sheet of metal]

Sparky. Thanks for sending me a sheet of paper but my privy is stocked. I can guess what it says though: "I can't go I'm so busy and I'm too much of a wimp to clear my schedule"

I'm coming to pick you up. Tell your guards they can either get out of my way or get CRUSHED. It's gonna be fun.

It's TOPH.

-

A painting of Fire Lord Zuko, Lady Beifong, Master Katara, Avatar Aang, Suki of Kyoshi Island and Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe. Lady Beifong is sitting on the Fire Lord's shoulders, holding up a decorative belt and smiling widely.

[zickmonkey]

Gonna say some semi weird shit lmao sorry

[qeliche]

Here are the requirements for a GRC (https://www.gov.uk/apply-gender-recognition-certificate/who-can-apply):

Full disclosure: I don't live in the UK.

But note the part about 'intending to live as this gender for the rest of your life'. Genderfluid ppl can't meet that. Their gender changes, and I saw someone above say non binary ppl are not recognized as a gender in UK so if I were to go there I wouldn't be able to get one either. Neither would agender ppl. Or anyone who's not binary trans if that's the case.

But I would still need care and medical help. And under this thing, the rat bastards would be able to call me a detransitioner even though I'm not.

So artificially propping up the detransition numbers which they might then use to say it's a social contagion or some shit, and if the USA is any indication, or even just Brit TERFs, they're gonna use this to heavily restrict or even eliminate gender affirming care for trans ppl.

(Aren't they already trying to stop ppl from getting HRT until they're 25 or something?! So more pile on).

Gonna look for confirmation but I've seen a claim relating to the news that the NHS is going to force GICs to hand over patient records to look for evidence of detransition, that the criteria they are going to use is if the patient has a GRC.

I dont have a solid source yet. Do not panic yet. But if true I will lose my fucking mind.

[sunderwight]

SV fic where Luo Bingge discovers that Shen Jiu had a long-lost half-brother or something, and subsequently decides that he's going to infiltrate the minor sect which this "Shen Yuan" belongs to in order to get close to him and then indulge in revenge fantasy 2.0 when it inevitably turns out that Shen Yuan is like Shen Jiu (i.e. a horrible abusive scum teacher).

So Bingge uses some magical object or technique or other, makes himself look like a scrawny 12-14 year old, then puts himself in Shen Yuan's path in hopes of convincing the man to take him on as a disciple. The idea being that after Shen Yuan abuses him, Bingge will be justified in reenacting his Shen Qingqiu Revenge Arc again and maybe finally feeling some closure about the whole thing.

Yes, this is a very deranged plan. No, no one is going to tell the emperor of the three realms that. Bingge also wants it to be clear that this has nothing whatsoever to do with his recent escapade in an alternate universe, except that he was inspired to find Shen Jiu's relative as a consequence of that. But he's absolutely sure that this guy is going to turn out just as rotten as his brother, given the opportunity. That is definitely the only reason he is doing this!

Flash forward about four years. Bingge's retainers are begging on their knees for him to actually come back and do some administrative work. The harem is running itself at this point and they're all very terrified of the situation with Liu Mingyan and Sha Hualing (i.e. ruling with lesbian iron fists) and whatever the heck Ning Yingying is up to (no one is certain but it's something). The outer provinces are rebelling. Mobei Jun's somehow found another weird human surnamed Shang to cavort with, except this one is basically running admin for the entire northern kingdom now and no one's even sure if they're fucking or if it's some kind of mind control situation or what.

Bingge is annoyed. He doesn't have a good explanation for why a bunch of demon lords would be showing up on the doorstep of Tiny Cultivation Sect to beg him for anything. They're going to spoil his cover! And they're interrupting his schedule! It's already four o'clock and he hasn't started on Shizun's dinner yet! Shoo! Get lost!

Anyway, eventually some of his demon followers get desperate and dramatically kidnap him. Shen Yuan is horrified and grieved when it seems that his precious disciple, so like white lotus Luo Binghe from the novel, has been captured by demons. He tries to track the assailants down, but they've covered their tracks too well. In the end, there's only one path left to him to pursue: taking this matter to the protagonist!

Yes, the protagonist! Because the thing is, Shen Yuan noticed the similarities between his disciple and the book character he so admired. Not only that, but he did manage to glimpse Bingge one time from afar. It wasn't anywhere near to a real interaction, but it was enough for him to notice the strong resemblance between the protagonist and the mistreated little lamb who showed up at his doorstep. A resemblance for which there can only be one explanation:

Shen Yuan's disciple is one of Binghe's kids!

Yes, he had it figured out since fairly early on. Not only was there a resemblance, and not only were their dispositions quite similar, but also the boy showed a lot of signs of some demonic heritage. Shen Yuan was just working up to broaching the subject, partly because he had been trying to avoid any direct or even indirect interactions with the emperor, and partly because he... became somewhat reluctant to part ways with his student. Sue him! He got attached! And anyway, he knew how missing child plots usually went. There was probably someone in the harem who was out for his disciple's blood, and it wouldn't be safe to send him back into that mess until he was strong enough to look after himself.

But as is inevitable, the plot seems to have reclaimed Shen Yuan's student all on its own.

He just... needs to make sure that it isn't a tragic outcome. It seems it falls on him to make the emperor aware of his son's survival, and subsequent peril, and help launch a rescue!

Which also means approaching Luo Binghe in person, which he knows is very risky indeed, due to his connection to the infamous Shen Qingqiu! He'd been avoiding the protagonist at all costs for that exact reason.

But if it's his only hope of rescuing his disciple, he will simply have to take the risk, and hope that enough time has passed that Luo Binghe doesn't read too much into a shared surname and a passing resemblance. Or that restoring the emperor's long-lost son to him will be worth seem lenience for the crime of being connected to Shen Qingqiu. Maybe if he's lucky, he will even be allowed to continue visiting his disciple! (Ha, yeah right! More likely, Luo Binghe's going to take his head for hiding his own kid from him for so long!)

Anyway, cue Luo Bingge running around swapping between his Emperor and Disciple forms, dramatically trying to orchestrate a situation where he can fake the emperor's death and go back to the sect with Shizun as his disciple, or something, only for it all to blow up in his face because Shen Yuan keeps flinging himself between Bingge and potentially fatal threats that could plausibly kill him???

[anothermaletfwriter]

Invigorated Waters

(Long story ahead)

This vacation was supposed to fix their relationship, if only Jacob (on the left) had been more specific with his wish.

Jacob had planned out this trip with his long-time boyfriend, Adam. They had met on their sophomore year of college and were now both 35 years old. While the early times were sweet, Jacob found it difficult to maintain the same love he once held for over a decade. He had initially attributed it to their relationship stabilizing and becoming stable before he realized that it was physical attraction as well. Neither of them were as physically fit as they were back in college. They even admitted they hadn’t had good sex in years. Jacob felt even more guilty of his dying love especially after he accidentally spoiled himself of a planned engagement in the upcoming month on Adam’s phone.

After many nights researching how to revive a dead bedroom and ignoring the numerous suggestions, though most were demanding enough to be orders, of breaking up, he scheduled a two week long trip in the Palawan province of the tropical country of Philippines. It was an ideal place to resurrect his love. The warm weather would soothe any tensions and the novel experience a new country could spontaneously reignite his love for soon-to-be SO. He had planned out the entire itinerary: staying at the most expensive luxury hotel, island hopping via the boat tour, eating at local restaurants and exploring other tourist destinations. The costs of love necromancy slammed his savings he built up as a digital marketer.

Most of the vacation passed and it was days till they had to get to the airport and fly back home to the states. Jacob found himself somehow drifting even further apart from Adam. His passion was still dead. It wasn’t fixed by the countless colorful corals they snorkeled through, the sweetness of their halo-halos, the countless Filipino ballads playing throughout the whole beach town or even the cute tropical locally-made souvenirs he bought for Adam. He even downloaded Grindr for a week to find a 3rd but not even a third person could spice up the bedroom. His intrusive thoughts of sleeping other men only became more rampant.

The night after an uneventful day of scuba diving and street stall dining of fishballs and taho, Jacob stayed up to feel Adam’s warm hairy chest just for a slight chance of him rediscovering what made him fall in love with him in the first place but it was no use. It was a history of their touches and he felt the end was near. At this rate, he didn’t know what to do. Break up and re-do their entire lives separately? Or suppress his dead love pass the engagement and then the wedding and be miserable underneath to keep Adam happy? Maybe his façade would shatter during their marriage and a divorce would follow. His thoughts swirled around like a typhoon, wrecking his visions of an ending love life. The white noise of an inevitable disaster surrounded his ears, pushing him deeper into their waves until his phone dinged.

Jacob stared at the brightly notified phone with his tired eyes and read a Telegram message.

“I can help with your boyfriend problems,” It was sent by an unknown number.

“I don’t have a lot of money left. I spent it all on this vacation.”

“Don’t worry it’s free. Meet me outside your hotel lobby in 10 minutes.”

Jacob hesitated to respond. His gut told him against the offer. At best, it was a prank text and at worst, he didn’t want to imagine the worst. But he needed to do anything to bring back his love life so he reluctantly messaged, “Okay, I will. See you there.”

Before he went down to the lobby, he held Adam tightly and gave him a kiss on the lips. Despite him being a heavy sleeper, the kiss caused a smile to form. His sneakers shuffled on the brightly clean ceramic floors before they crunched on the gravel path out. The honks and roars of the jeepneys and clinks of other people’s flipflops collided in the warm humid air. An overhead purple mosquito zapper beeped, a few sparks coming out of it.

An attractive Filipino man, presumably in his early 20s, who wore a grey cap and a blue muscle tee that revealed his defined arms, approached him. Introducing himself as Joshua, he revealed he was the one texting him as he himself was an Engkanto, a human being with magical powers. He went on to list the many tourists relationships he had solved, and mentioned that problems like of Jacob and Adam were his bread and butter.

Jacob felt uneasy as the young man spoke to him. There was nothing off about his appearance, in fact he envied his physique as it reminded him of a younger, prime version of himself. There was an unexplainable chill and pang of distrust that rang through his bones yet he felt compelled to go with him.

He followed Joshua through the forest on the way to a hut, where he would perform the love ritual that was said to bring back any love, even if one of the partners was dead. Jacob’s heart fastened worriedly as he delved deeper into the jungle, damp grass brushing past his lower eggs and piercing through the eerie silence of the dark greenery. The small hut was made of bamboo, elevated a few feet off the ground. Jacob walked up the stairs, hearing Joshua shuffle through his pocket. The interior was dimly lit, with a purple candle in the middle, with nothing else. No sacred symbols or sacrificial totems or skulls.

Joshua motioned him to sit down, across from the candle. Jacob sat on the cold rickety floor.

Joshua followed after him, sitting opposite. He took out a small black canister from his pocket and opened it, scooping some of the purple goo. From the dim light, it resembled candle wax but of a thicker and more transparent consistency.

“This will bring back your love for your boyfriend,” Joshua said, his voice calm and deep. He brushed a generous amount on Jacob’s forearm, “Adam right?”

“Yeah his name is Adam,” Jacob didn’t even dare to ask him any rational questions, like how he figured his relationship problem all out or how he got his number. He chalked it up to Filipino magic. The goo felt warm on his forehead. He began to feel tired, though he was sure it was due to how late at night he was staying up, “How does it work?” He yawned.

“Some magical spirit energy stuff, it’s too hard to explain to normal humans,” Joshua brushed the goo on his own forehead as well, an evil grin that stretched past what a normal human could emote escaping through. It was last sight Jacob remembered before he fell asleep. There were no dreams of reuniting with Adam along the beach that represented his renewed love or flashbacks to his first date at the college town’s Waffle House, just darkness in his sleep.

Jacob woke up with an intense energy next morning. But his bedroom was different. He knew from the bright green walls and sturdy fan swaying that he was not at the luxury hotel with expensive AC and gigantic windows that overlooked the forest but at a house. He reached to grab to his side but Adam wasn’t there.

“Holy shit,” He exclaimed to himself, hearing his new voice and Filipino accent. He felt up and down his face, free from any facial hair and his Adam’s apple poking out more. He looked down on his stomach, differing from the white and flabby belly, it was smooth, tan and shredded with his abs. He glazed his soft hand across the crevices between his abs before he squeezed his bigger chest. He stroked his arms, admiring the craftsmanship of his biceps. He opened the phone camera, as muscle memory let him unlock it. His hair was short and jet black, face slimmer and youthful. It was real. He had swapped bodies with Joshua!

Jacob messaged him frantically, “Dude, give me back my fucking body.”

An instant response followed, like Joshua had been expecting it, “Relax. I’ll give it back once I fix your body’s love. It will take some time. While you wait, have fun in my body. I’ll let you know when we can swap back.”

Son of a bitch. Jacob searched his short’s pockets and found the container from last night, it felt lighter but he shook it, hearing the weird liquid droopy noises. He still had the swapping purple goo, ready to use to swap them to normal again, whether Joshua wanted to or not, “You better swap us back before we have to leave tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll hear back before sunset. Just enjoy yourself and your new body, I worked hard in building it :)”

Jacob shut off the phone and rubbed his hands on his forehead out of frustrations. Part of him believe he had been tricked but the optimistic portion of him expected a fixed relationship before he went to bed that night. He thought of how badly he was missing his boyfriend, planning not to sleep with anyone as he didn’t want to betray Adam.

He got off the bed and stood on the floor, realizing the world was shorter than he remembered in his old body. He was the only inhabitant of the house, hearing no one else except TFC on the large TV in the living room. More memories of the body permeated through his mind, as his hands and brains coordinated together through the fridge and cabinets to cook a typical Filipino breakfast of garlic fried rice, bangus, cherry tomatoes and tortang talong. The tangy savory flavors meshed well in his new tongue. Jacob hoped that when he returned to his original body, he would remember how to cook the Filipino food. While cleaning the dishes, his phone dinged.

Heart pounding from anxiety, he opened to Telegram. But he was disappointed that it was someone else. Jacob was surprised as he was able to understand the Tagalog frequently. The text came from Tomas, a 35 year old, also a local like Joshua, and one of his fuck buddies.

“Handa ka na ba para sa aming pre workout session?” (Are you ready for our pre workout session?)

Jacob was quick to nearly decline the message but before his smooth fingers could hit send, a surge of lust overpowered his body. More memories of Joshua started to infiltrate and even replace some of his own. Jacob was unable to recall the first few moments of relationship, not even during their college years. He was losing himself to the Joshua’s consciousness. Why wouldn’t he accept the offer? He was young and he had a terrific body that anybody would kill to have, let alone have sex with. That’s why he was popular in not only Grindr but on OnlyFans as well. Local neighbors to travelers from across the country and even internationally were common visitors to his bedroom. But that was Joshua, not Jacob. He was still Jacob, even if he wasn’t in his original body, unfortunately that didn’t matter as his fingers deleted the declining message and sent a thumbs-up emoji.

His fears of assimilation quickly dissipated when Tomas arrived at his front door for their ‘session’. He was a paler muscle daddy Tito that worked from home as an accountant, taking frequent breaks at work. Joshua-Jacob closed the door as he led him to his bedroom like it was a weekly routine. Quick to strip down, Joshua-Jacob ripped off his black shorts and underwear, unleashing the monster between his legs. He stroked it frantically before Tomas stopped any premature actions.

Tomas’ mature yet energetic face stared seductively at Joshua's eyes, stroking his tender jawline and playing with his straight black hair. Tomas whispered to him, smirking as he took off his clothes, down to his tight red thong that barely covered his older bubble butt, “Huwag sayangin ang iyong enerhiya” (Don’t waste your energy yet)

At first, Jacob returned to consciousness. He was a total sub bottom as the last time he recalled topping was before his first hookup with Adam. Now this body was a prime example of a dom top. With each thrust, more of Joshua returned back to form, getting more prominent. Joshua held on the older man’s wide muscular waist as he clapped his firm cheeks vigorously, causing the both of them to moan loudly, after all, their noises were drowned out by the vehicles on the road outside. Sweat dripped down from his pecs to his six pack and eventually to his double digit inch cock, shaved perfectly. A shot of dopamine hit through his system as he finished inside of the older man. His legs shook as he continued on for a second round on the hot piece of meat that posed in front of him, finally stopping after a few more minutes.

Tomas laid ass up on his bed with Joshua’s seed leaking from his looser hole. He caught his breath, sweating, “Wow, iyon ay mas kamangha-mangha kaysa sa karaniwan mong ginagawa.” (Wow that was more amazing than you usually do)

Joshua continued to flex his body for his cocky ego. He had the physique and libido e of a young God. Without thinking, words left his mouth, “Mas may energy ako ngayon.” (I have more energy today)

After they cleaned up, they went to the gym together, where Joshua snuck in a quick blowjob after doing a chest day that would have ended him in his original body. Once their pumps wore off and it was time for Tomas to go back to work, they went off separately for the rest of the day.

Joshua, whose heart and dick couldn’t stop pounding from the new lingering memories of pounding the bubble butt of the muscle daddy, sat on the beach shirtless, hoping to catch a few waves and perhaps a few more dudes. He relaxed as the sun reflected off his tan skin. He could get used to this carefree lifestyle, no worries about monogamy or the sorts. That was Joshua, though. Jacob yearned for the intimate warm touches that Adam used to give him, even if all he now remembered of him was of the past month. Time was running out.

Joshua-Jacob frantically spammed Jacob-Joshua, berating him for not telling him about the memory destruction result from body swapping. There was not even a left on read message. He must be having plenty of fun with Adam. His fears of not making it back to his old lifestyle and body vanished as a wave of libido and energy devoured him yet again. The once suppressed guilty desire of fucking other men other than his boyfriend conquered him again. Joshua's spirit took over again.

Joshua-Jacob began the rest of the day on Grindr, with the goals of finding more hookups and parties. It was a wonderful experience, fucking so many different men, from on a boat to a secluded spot on the beach and even in the hotels near the one he was staying in originally. He never tired out, often going for multiple rounds like he did with Tomas, with no need for breaks except for water. The men lusted him for his physique, youthful endurance and the powerful thrusts he made with his member and hips. Many of them hoping to see him again and continued to message him on social media.

Joshua finally rested at a bar. He had finished his American cheese burger and a healthy kale salad. His seat faced the ocean. The sun was orange, its rays glimmering on his glamorous muscles and on his deep dark brown eyes. He found it hard to imagine a life other than one of hedonism and freedom until his phone rang, revealing it was 6:00 pm.

Shit, it was sunset. There was a notification. Not from Telegram. It was Grindr. It was from the couple looking for a 3rd account. Thank fucking God.

“Free rn?” The account, likely Joshua, the imposter Jacob, in charge, messaged.

The real Jacob felt himself come back as he replied with a “Yes”. Memories of Adam and their entire relationship together returned, back to the beginning of when they ate undercooked chocolate cheesecake pancakes and had food poisoning the rest of their first date night. He realized that by not being with Adam, he had an affinity that he truly cared and loved him. It followed the old saying of not knowing what really matters until it’s gone. He was so close to getting home and being back with his loving boyfriend.

The account responded with a simple Thumbs-up. It was all Jacob needed as he ran to the hotel, careful to dodge other pedestrians and the rampant tricycles that carried the other tourists and their luggage. The hotel door was unlocked and the room was dark as Jacob entered. He could see Joshua and Adam were sitting on their bed naked.

Jacob introduced himself as ‘Joshua’ to the both of them, taking notable excitement in Adam. Without much speaking, likely from Adam’s awareness of the language barrier, they fucked. Despite Jacob’s attempts of meshing in between them, he was always pushed aside by both of them, always topping but never in the middle. Despite not bottoming as Jacob usually did with his boyfriend, the sex between them was spectacular, as he filled them up with bucket loads of his semen. His kisses with him were the most passionate he ever did in his life. He thrusted with soul and love into him. By the time that Adam fell asleep, the part of the bed they were doing it was soaked in their liquids intermixed with each other.

“Alright,” Jacob panted, sweat covering his glorious body, speaking to his former face, “Let’s swap back, now. I feel it again, thank you.”

Joshua shook his head, “Nope, thank you for giving me your wonderful life and your even better boyfriend. I can’t believe you gave all of it up,” The same grin he had recalled the night before now appeared on his face and mouth. He felt as if a demon possessed his body and was mocking him, it probably was at this point.

“You’re giving me back my body, my life and my boyfriend,” Jacob shouted, looming over his former body.

Joshua looked unimpressed with his threats, yawning slightly, “You should have known better than to trust an Engkanto, let alone of the trickster type,” He simply lied down on the bed and pretended to sleep, cuddling with Adam, in a cruel way of mocking Jacob.

Jacob thought fast, remembering the jar of purple goo in his pocket. He reached out and opened it to find nothing. Scooped empty. Entirely clean like it was never there. Despite his failure, he grabbed his body by the arm, which was lightwork due to his younger and powerful strength, “Swap us, now,” He demanded with rage in his smaller pupils.

Jacob was met with the torment of his own laugh cackling at him, with a deep undertone that caused shivers, like his original body was being corrupted, "You think you were clever thinking you could use the purple jelly against me?”

“But I shook it around earlier and I heard it. I didn’t lose or misplace it in between now and then” Jacob's skin grew bumpy from the goosebumps. He felt like he was in a nightmare, his stomach turning on itself as his old face morphed.

“Don’t forget I’m a trickster.” His grin grew unnaturally big, like his mouth was too big on his own face. “I like the attempt though, you really want to swap back. But I did notice how much fun you had in my body. I think even more than I did with your own body and your awesome boyfriend!”

“I just want to be back in my own body and be back with Adam. Nothing more! I want my life back, Joshua!!" Jacob screamed, hoping it would wake Adam up, but he didn’t.

“Joshua? I think you hit your head or something cause that’s your name, not mine. I’m Jacob,” His body taunted before he started to mutter an ancient language. Some remnants of it sounded Tagalog but the others sounded ancient, it was not human in origin.

“W-what, no. Don’t lie to me, Joshua, Jac—“ Jacob stopped speaking as he felt his own self merging with Joshua’s body. He looked at his own Jacob's face. He felt increasingly dizzy, as Jacob helped sit him down, who explained that he had fucked a bit too hard for his own good. Despite how hard he tried to shun him out, Joshua-Jacob’s post-college years of working in the field of marketing in America mutated into times living between popular touristy areas in the Philippines, only able to afford them from his OnlyFans income and sugar daddy money. His own personality and thoughts replaced by that of Joshua, as the familiar shock of testosterone and libido electrified his body. It caused Joshua to get a hard on and passionately kiss Jacob.

Jacob offered no resistance, allowing Joshua to feel every spot on his body with his tongue. It didn’t take long for Jacob to get onto his position with his jiggling white ass up in the air. Joshua slid in with ease, relentlessly hitting his prostate and causing the both of them to finish within minutes. In the release of his semen, the remnants of Jacob’s consciousness and personality drained out of his body. The transformation was complete. Joshua finished, collapsing on the soft mattress on his back, his bulky chest rising up and down. Jacob was generous enough to hand him a water bottle from America.

“Thank you, Kuya Jacob,” Joshua said as he gulped down his water, spilling some onto his abs and then using a clean towel to dry it up, “You guys are leaving for America tomorrow morning?”

Jacob nodded, as his supernatural grin turned into a generous smile. “Yeah. Don’t worry. I’ll let you know the next time we vacation here.”

Joshua whispered as he put on his shorts and black jersey, “Congrats on your future engagement. You two would make amazing husbands. You’re always welcome here in the Philippines!” He smiled.

“You’re a good young guy. Get home safe,” said Jacob, waving goodbye as he cuddled with Adam.

Joshua left the hotel with hope for the next day, with many collaborations and hookups he was going to perform that day as part of his typical life. The notion of finding a guy and settling down was foreign and too weird to him. Why should he only stay with one guy when he had such an irresistible and young body? He was young and he needed to enjoy that and pleasure himself.

[reasonsforhope]

"In China, a landscape architect is reimagining cities across the vast country by working with nature to combat flooding through the ‘sponge city’ concept.

Through his architecture firm Turenscape, Yu has created hundreds of projects in dozens of cities using native plants, dirt, and clever planning to absorb excess rainwater and channel it away from densely populated areas.

Flooding, especially in the two Chinese heartlands of the commercial south and the agricultural north, is becoming increasingly common, but Yu says that concrete and pipe solutions can only go so far. They’re inflexible, expensive, and require constant maintenance. According to a 2021 World Bank report, 641 of China’s 654 largest cities face regular flooding.

“There’s a misconception that if we can build a flood wall higher and higher, or if we build the dams higher and stronger, we can protect a city from flooding,” Yu told CNN in a video call. “(We think) we can control the water… that is a mistake.”

Pictured: The Benjakitti Forest Park in Bangkok

Yu has been called the “Chinese Olmstead” referring to Frederick Law Olmstead, the designer of NYC’s Central Park. He grew up in a little farming village of 500 people in Zhejiang Province, where 36 weirs channel the waters of a creek across terraced rice paddies.

Once a year, carp would migrate upstream and Yu always looked forward to seeing them leap over the weirs.

This synthesis of man and nature is something that Turenscape projects encapsulate. These include The Nanchang Fish Tail Park, in China’s Jiangxi province, Red Ribbon Park in Qinghuandao, Hebei province, the Sanya Mangrove Park in China’s island province of Hainan, and almost a thousand others. In all cases, Yu utilizes native plants that don’t need any care to develop extremely spongey ground that absorbs excess rainfall.

Pictured: The Dong’an Wetland Park, another Turescape project in Sanya.

He often builds sponge projects on top of polluted or abandoned areas, giving his work an aspect of reclamation. The Nanchang Fish Tail Park for example was built across a 124-acre polluted former fish farm and coal ash dump site. Small islands with dawn redwoods and two types of cypress attract local wildlife to the metropolis of 6 million people.

Sanya Mangrove Park was built over an old concrete sea wall, a barren fish farm, and a nearby brownfield site to create a ‘living’ sea wall.

One hectare (2.47 acres) of Turenscape sponge land can naturally clean 800 tons of polluted water to the point that it is safe enough to swim in, and as a result, many of the sponge projects have become extremely popular with locals.

One of the reasons Yu likes these ideas over grand infrastructure projects is that they are flexible and can be deployed as needed to specific areas, creating a web of rain sponges. If a large drainage, dam, seawall, or canal is built in the wrong place, it represents a huge waste of time and money.

Pictured: A walkway leads visitors through the Nanchang Fish Tail Park.

The sponge city projects in Wuhan created by Turenscape and others cost in total around half a billion dollars less than proposed concrete ideas. Now there are over 300 sponge projects in Wuhan, including urban gardens, parks, and green spaces, all of which divert water into artificial lakes and ponds or capture it in soil which is then released more slowly into the sewer system.

Last year, The Cultural Landscape Foundation awarded Yu the $100,000 Oberlander Prize for elevating the role of design in the process of creating nature-based solutions for the public’s enjoyment and benefit."

-via Good News Network, August 15, 2024

[dandelionwishh]

The Return of a King

Summary: After six long days away, Sukuna returns to the estate, ravenous with need for the one thing he’s been denied—you.

Pairing: Heian Era Sukuna x Reader

Warnings: Heavy tension, possessiveness, rough handling, marking, intense desire, implied smut, Sukuna being Sukuna.

Enjoy!

The estate was quiet when Sukuna returned, the moon casting pale silver light over the courtyard as his footsteps echoed against the stone path. Midnight stretched deep into the sky, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and the lingering smoke of burned incense.

Six days.

Six days without you.

Sukuna was not a man prone to patience, nor was he one to be controlled by something as baseless as longing. And yet, here he was, standing on the precipice of need so sharp it was nearly unbearable.

His body was tight, aching from the absence of your touch, the memory of your warmth haunting him in the restless nights he had spent away. Six days of war councils, territorial disputes, and bloodshed had left him with a hunger that no meal could satisfy, no conquest could quell.

He needed you.

But first—

His upper set of arms flexed as he rolled the tension from his shoulders, turning to the two retainers who had followed him through the gates.

"Report," he ordered, his voice a low rumble of impatience.

One of the men bowed deeply, quick to appease him. "All is as you left it, my lord. Your lands remain secure. The matters of the southern province have been resolved, and your concubines have remained within their quarters without issue."

Concubines.

His jaw tightened. The word meant nothing to him now. There was only one woman he had any interest in seeing tonight.

"And her?" he asked, voice sharper, hungrier.

The retainer hesitated only briefly before lowering his gaze. "She has kept to your chambers, my lord. The servants say she spends much of her time in solitude. She has not left the estate."

Sukuna exhaled slowly, something possessive curling in his gut at the thought of you waiting for him all this time. Good. You were his. You belonged to no one else.

"Leave me," he commanded, already turning toward the main wing.

The retainers bowed, stepping aside as he strode past them.

The halls were dark, the flickering lanterns barely illuminating the silk-draped corridors. His heartbeat was steady, his mind sharp, but the closer he got to his chambers, the more something primal clawed at his control.

Six days.

Too long.

By the time he reached the heavy doors to his chambers, his restraint was hanging by a thread. He shoved them open without hesitation, stepping into the dimly lit space.

And there you were.

Curled beneath the silk sheets, your body bathed in the glow of the dying lanterns. The soft rise and fall of your breathing was the only sound in the vast room, your form delicate against the massive bedding.

His fingers twitched.

You looked untouched. Unclaimed. His.

Sukuna exhaled slowly, forcing himself to undo his outer robe with deliberate slowness, the fabric slipping from his shoulders and pooling onto the floor. His muscles were tense, his body burning from the restraint he had forced upon himself since the moment he left you.

He approached the bed, lowering himself beside you, his heat instantly sinking into your sleeping form.

And then, with the gentleness of a predator savoring his prey—he touched you.

His lower hands slipped beneath the sheets, palms gliding over your bare skin, reacquainting himself with every dip and curve he had been starved of.

A soft inhale left your lips as you stirred, your body instinctively molding against his touch. He smirked against the shell of your ear, voice low and needy.

"Did you miss me, little thing?"

You shivered, the sound of his voice pulling you from the depths of sleep. Slowly, your eyes fluttered open, still hazy with drowsiness as you turned to face him.

"Sukuna…?" Your voice was soft, disoriented.

He hummed, fingers trailing down your thigh, savoring the way your body reacted to his touch. "Who else would it be?"

Your brows furrowed slightly, sleep still clinging to you. "You're back…"

He grunted, his grip tightening on you. "And you're still here. Just where you should be."

Your lips parted, but whatever you meant to say was lost as he dipped his head, pressing his mouth against the curve of your throat. His teeth scraped against your skin, not quite biting, but warning—demanding.

He wanted you.

Now.

You gasped softly as his hands grew bolder, sliding over your hips, fingers digging into your flesh. His breath was hot against your ear, his voice rough with days of restraint.

"You’ve been untouched in my absence." It was not a question. It was a fact.

Your breath hitched as his grip tightened. "Of course—"

"Good," he growled. "Because the only hands that will ever touch you are mine."

You trembled at the weight of his claim, at the undiluted hunger laced in his voice.

Six days.

Six days of waiting.

Six days of need.

And now, as he pressed you into the sheets, his body heavy with intention—

You knew he would make up for every second he had been gone.

[cryptictongues]

Tiny Dots on an Endless Timeline

pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Mutant!Reader rating: Explicit (MINORS DNI; 18+) word count: 28.5k summary: "It’s been a few years since you'd passed, dying in one of the earlier Sentinel raids. He watched you die. He watched you beg and plead for him to get everyone to safety as you used your gift to keep the Sentinel’s away. It’s his last memory of you; a memory that makes these missions harder. But the idea that stopping all of this from happening could save you, could give him more time with you, gave him something he too hasn’t felt in a long time: hope."

warnings: slow burn, angst/smut/fluff, pining, grief, death, panic attacks, intimacy, unprotected vaginal sex, nipple play, grinding, making out, overstimulation, aftercare

Author’s Note: In this fic, there is some dialogue from the movie used and lyrics from Roberta Flack's "The First Time I Ever Saw Your Face". I do not own the rights to either and they are only used to help the plot of the story.

Please read my pinned post before following me! Minors and ageless blogs will be blocked as this blog’s content is NSFW.

[AO3 link]

Abandoned Chinese Temple; Shanxi Province, China; Year 2023

Logan didn’t have any high expectations when it came to missions. He has learned time and time again that every mission in this war creates loss. It seemed like every time they had a chance, that chance was quickly vanquished. He would convince himself for the longest time things will get better. They have to get better. All wars end eventually. It’s just a matter of when and what the casualties will be. But right now, the end is nowhere in sight.

They were safe for now, hiding out in an old temple that has aged and weathered away with the times. Being back with everyone, seeing who is left of them, sits heavy in Logan’s chest. Having people he cared about ripped away like they were nothing, no proper burial or goodbye, aged him like nothing else. While physically he was still in his proper form and shape, mentally he was struggling.

Charles is giving a history lesson on the Sentinels, giving information many of the younger mutants were not fully aware of. Logan is aware of what this is leading up to, a plan Charles and Erik conjured up as a last resort. It’s smart, but even when it seems too good to be true, he must remind himself the same thing: do not have any expectations.

Logan notices Charles is quiet, and everyone’s attention is on Kitty. She had been talking and even though Logan had zoned out for a minute, the look on her face says it all; it’s impossible. 

“You have the most powerful brain in the world professor, but the mind can only stretch so far before it snaps. It would rip you apart. I’m sorry.”

The gears in Logan’s head were turning. He doesn’t quite know the limits of his mutation, especially in regard to traveling back in time. However, he has taken multiple bullets and slashes. He has been through some of the worst experimentation imaginable and his body always recovered. If his body could bear all of that, what’s to say he wouldn’t survive going back a few decades?

It’s not long before everyone agrees that Logan going back was the only solution left. Charles and Erik walk him through what needs to be done the minute he wakes up as his younger self. Patience is what Charles keeps telling him, but of course he knows that will be challenging alone. Not to mention all the bullshit they were doing in the early 70s. Bastards.

“I do apologize, Logan. But I have the utmost faith that you can do this.” Charles chuckles, obviously hearing what Logan called them. 

“There is nothing left to lose.” Logan sighs.

“But there is plenty to gain.” Charles smiles, the hope on his features stronger than it had been in a long time. “To bring our loved ones home. To bring her home.”

Logan sucks in a breath, holding it for a second before releasing slowly. His hand goes to his neckline, pulling the chain from his suit to look at it and there it was. The engagement ring: a symbol of good things to come that will no longer come to fruition. A lifetime that was stripped away from him, a life with you no more. 

It’s been a few years since you’d passed, dying in one of the earlier Sentinel raids. He watched you die. He watched you beg and plead for him to get everyone to safety as you used your gift to keep the Sentinel’s away. It’s his last memory of you; a memory that makes these missions harder. But the idea that stopping all of this from happening could save you, could give him more time with you, gave him something he too hasn’t felt in a long time: hope. 

“It’s good to see that spark in your eyes again, Logan.” Charles says. 

Logan huffs under his breath. “I guess my emotions are starting to show on my sleeve, huh?” 

Charles laughs, before moving on into the other room. “You’ve grown a lot since I’ve first met you, Logan. And I have her to thank.”

Logan looks down with a smile, reminiscing only a little bit. You really were something else.

It isn’t long before he is lying down on the stone table with Kitty explaining everything to him. It all makes sense, but he can’t shake the fact he will be the only one to remember this war: the trauma, the anger, the dread, the grief. Even when this war will have no bearing on the new world he hopes to come back to, he will still live with that pain. 

“Alright, Logan. Calm your mind and think peaceful thoughts. This may sting a little.” He can hear the uneasiness in Kitty’s voice, but he is ready. There is no pain he can’t endure.

He closes his eyes and thinks about the happier times. Some of his fondest memories are of him simply waking up to watch the sun rays glide across your body in the morning. How you would curl more into his chest and mumble words with no connection whatsoever. How you would wake up, kiss his chest and keep going until your lips met his. He would always ask you to use your gift in those moments, wanting to hold you just a little longer before the day started. You were his little piece of heaven.

Even as he feels Kitty’s hands beside his head, he thinks maybe before he wakes up, he’ll dream as his mind travels. He’ll dream of better times and that alone would hold him over during the impending pain. Because what he wouldn’t give to have you in his arms again. That’s all he wants. 

His hand grips onto the ring attached to his dog tags, holding it close as he prepares to enter a different time full of the unpredictable. 

This is for you, baby. I will save you this time.

And with that thought, the hot pain scorches his temples and sets fire to his mind and then he is gone.

The Algonquin Hotel; New York City, NY; Year 1973

Music. Soft, calming music enters his conscience. It greets his mind, carefully shaking him awake. Then there is the sunlight. It is warm against his skin and he can feel it greeting him, telling him it is time to start the day. It all felt too familiar, and he thought he was dreaming. He felt something draped over his neck. It wasn’t heavy but there was a weight to it. He lifted his hand to touch and the moment he felt another hand, he smiled. Yes, I am definitely dreaming because here she is. He brought your dainty hand to his lips, kissing it gently as he intertwined his fingers with yours. 

But the moment is short lived as his other senses kick in. He took one inhale and knew immediately something wasn’t right. He turns to lay flat on his back, and he can’t help but curse under his breath. He feels like he is waking up to the pre-walk of shame as he looks at the woman beside him. He recognizes her, someone he had bodyguarded for a period of time and occasionally let her warm his bed. Well, he let her do a lot more than that. 

If only he had the foresight to have kept it in his pants. 

He sets her arm to her side and attempts to get out of the bed. He feels the water hold him back, and he groans deeply. Whoever invented water beds can fuck off.

He stands to his feet, taking in his surroundings. He recognizes the room and knows he’s in the Algonquin. The room has its signature set up, with its warm tones on the walls and floor, the plant hanging from the ceiling. He’s been in this room before, or at least another copy of it. He sees the mirror between the two windows, and he walks up to see his reflection. 

Holy shit…

He looks the same, but the differences are prominent. The gray that was once at the corners of his hair and beard were gone. His head of hair looked fuller and was back to his original brown state. His body didn’t look much different, but he felt rejuvenated. It looked like his body hadn’t endured much. He looks down further and can’t help but smirk. Heh, still got it.

His sights go to the window, and he peeks through the blinds, only to once again let expletives fall quietly from his lips. He knew it had worked, but seeing Times Square without its vast array of screens made him take a step back. There is a strange emotion forming in his chest, and while he can’t describe it, he can tell it’s good.

“Holy shit,” he mutters in awe, taking in all the minute details. “It worked.”

He feels relief, as well as curiosity as he scans the city in its older form. Charles had said he was a very different man during this time. He wonders what he will be walking into, and how he will prepare for the moment where Charles will think he’s full of shit. 

But his mind drifts as he looks down onto the street, street musicians on the side playing their instruments for spare change. He remembers you telling him that was something you did for a while with empty storage containers and food bins as makeshift drums… right here in the city.

His heart aches at the thought that you are out there somewhere, living your life day by day like nothing was wrong. You had told him you had a bit of a rebellious streak in the 70s, especially when you were playing music with a bunch of punks most nights and living out of a van. It reminded him a lot of himself, how he would have some kind of gig to make money and then go home to his trashy, beat up trailer. 

He always told you how he would have killed to see you in those times, and now that he’s here he’s tempted. Maybe he could leave right now and take a quick peak around the city. He wouldn’t even interact with you. He just wants to see you breathing and alive. He wants to see you living your life to the fullest, even if it pains him to not interfere.

He scoffs at himself, shaking his head and releasing the blind shade. No. He came here to do one thing, and that was to find Charles and Erik. He knows that if he plays his cards right, everything will turn out okay. The mutant population will continue to thrive, his friends will be alive, and you will continue to be by his side. Logan knows good things come to those that wait, so he will wait for you. Even if it fucking sucks to do so.

He goes to put on his pants, deep blue jeans with a big belt buckle, something he wore often. Some things really don’t change, do they?

He finishes covering himself, and the second his belt is strapped into place, he hears the door open. He turns to see three men standing by, talking loudly at the woman to get dressed as they stare him down.

Fuck.

Alleyway off of East 17th Street; New York, NY

“Fuck!”

You shoot up from your van seat, the thumping on the door startling you awake. You groan, holding your head as you blink slowly. You turn and see a cop at your window, signaling for you to roll the glass down. You grab the lever, rotating it slowly before squinting up at the man.

“Ma’am, you cannot park nor sleep here,” he emphasizes, snark laced in his voice. “You need to get moving.”

You see him whip out his ticket book, a quick scribble before he rips it and hands it over to you. 

“What? No warning?” You say defensively. “You gotta understand I was drunk last night. No points for not drinking and driving?”

He looks you up and down, grimacing at your attire. “For cretins like you, absolutely not. Unless you want to dispute the ticket in court, pay the fine.” He turns away, no consideration or anything. 

You scoff as he turns to leave, and you roll your window up quickly. You watch as he walks away, and you bring your hand up, curling your fingers in. Everything slows down before freezing all together, only to then reverse in swift motion. You watch the cop rework his steps as time turns back, and you keep going until you see him drive back from which he came. You continue to let time go, so you’d have enough of it to get the hell out of the alley, before releasing your fingers. Time slows again and then it goes on like nothing has changed. You glance at the ticket, noting he had filled the ticket out prior before to scaring the daylights out of you.

“Fucking pig,” you jeer, crumbling the ticket up and throwing it to the back. 

You start up the van, pulling out of the alley slowly before turning onto the busy street. There was high traffic per usual, people pushing to get to their jobs. You glance at the clock to see it is nine in the morning, and hum at the amount of time you have before your gig tonight. You are tempted to find another place to park, to sleep off the dreadful hangover plaguing your head. You knew taking all those shots the night prior was a terrible idea, but the drinks kept coming after such a good show. It helps too that your mutation keeps everything in check, a fact that makes you grin.

Being able to control time, rhythm and pace come naturally to you. You are always able to keep a perfect tempo and can change it up at your will. While punk music has never been about perfection, it always helps that you can pull everyone back in if things get too out of hand. People tell you you’re a prodigy, but if only they knew. Your bandmates don’t even know, and while you know they would embrace you, you felt it was always better to keep things hidden. Especially since you tend to use your power to save your ass far too often.

You decide to drive to central park, thinking some fresh air would stop your head from pulsing. You make a turn onto 44th Street, wanting to get to the main road for a straight shot to your new location. However, as you drive down, you start to feel strange. Your head was pulsing more, like your mind was trying to break down a door to give you a warning. It becomes borderline painful, and you can’t help but pull over onto the side of the street. 

You put your hazards on, opening the door before getting to the sidewalk. You squat down, dry heaving a little as you work to calm your mind down. You shut your eyes, rubbing your temples to ease the ache. And then as quickly as it came, it stopped. Your eyes open, looking around to see you are in front of the Algonquin. 

What the fuck?

“I must have really outdone myself last night,” you mutter under your breath, standing up fully to get back into the van.

You get in and go to turn the hazards off, but you stop when you notice a man walking out of the hotel. You watch as he walks with purpose, getting into what looks to be a green 1970 Buick LaSabre. Your brain glitches, trying to process something that doesn’t exist. You don’t know him. You’ve never seen the man before. So why is your brain acting like you do?

You watch him drive off with a screech, and you watch until he is no longer in sight. You stare off into the distance for a minute, thinking what the hell just happened. It was new, and it isn’t like anything you’ve ever experienced. The aftermath settles in your chest with a weird sense of longing and it makes you even more confused.

I definitely drank too much last night.

Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters; Westchester, NY

Logan knew the peaceful thoughts wouldn’t come easy, but god damn the entire morning has been far from peaceful. 

The altercation at the hotel ended with the three men on the floor, dead or alive he wasn’t sure. He could’ve handled it better, but the shock from seeing his old claws and the excruciating pain from the bullets sent him into a frenzy. He had truly forgotten how painful bullets felt when his bones weren’t covered in metal. 

Driving from New York City to Westchester didn’t help his mood. He’d rather suffer a thousand stab wounds than drive in traffic and deal with dumbass drivers. The only upside was he had time to think about his approach with Charles, and how he was going to convince him that he was serious. He had a pretty good idea of what he needed to say and was feeling confident. As long as there were no obstacles, he could get this done. 

But that all shattered when Hank opened the damn door. He hadn’t even considered his presence, but Hank was a pretty understanding guy. He’d understand, right?

Boy was he wrong. 

He definitely underestimated how strong Hank was, especially after seeing him as a younger man. Their tussle had landed him onto the marble table in the center of the foyer and with Hank roaring at him from the chandelier. It was no surprise that the one person who still lives here came out: Charles.

Logan’s first thought after looking at Charles was how much of a bum he appeared to be. He wasn’t one to judge, but to see his mentor in such rough shape was perplexing. It looked like the optimism he always held so close was far gone, which was made clear when he laughed in Logan’s face.

Charles did say he would need to be patient with him, but fuck he was a pain in the ass. Logan understood, as he wasn’t much better when he arrived at the mansion, but if he was this much of an ass as Charles is now, God help him.

At this moment, he was working answers out of Hank, trying to piece something together that would convince Charles that what he was saying is true. Then he heard footsteps from the stairs.

“I’ll help you. I’ll help you get to Raven.”

Which now leaves them all in Charles’s old office, discussing plans on how to retrieve Erik without getting caught. Erik had explained where he was before Logan got here, but now knowing what he did to get there makes this more complicated. Not that it already wasn’t, but it is for certain that his cell will be guarded to hell and back.

Once again, fucking bastards.

“What resources do we have?” Logan asks, hoping that Charles or Hank know someone with an ability to get them in and out. 

“Well…” Charles draws out. “I may know one person who could do it, but she will need some convincing. If we can find her, that is.” Charles chuckles, his hand rubbing his face in disbelief.

Hank’s eyes go wide. “You don’t mean…”

“She’s the only person that could pull it off, with her mutation and all.” Charles goes to stand, taking a swig of his whiskey in the process.

“Who is she?” Logan asks curiously, the odd mix of dismay and confidence in their tones intriguing. However, the second he hears your name, he freezes. 

“What?” Logan says with uneasiness, something the other two don’t pick up on.

“She was a recruit back when Erik and I were forming a team to fight against Sebastian Shaw.” Charles explains.

“She can control time,” Hank jumps in enthusiastically. “Move it forward, backward, stop it all at once.” 

“She left shortly after Cuba,” Charles takes a drink with that. “She said she didn’t want to be at odds with Erik and I.”

“Is there anyone else we could use?” Logan interjects quickly. The idea of seeing you is oh so tempting, but there is a fear that any sort of interaction with you will tear you away from him. To see you is one thing. To interact with you is another.

“There are mutants that can stop time telepathically, but she can do it all, which is why she is our best bet.” Charles adds, waving his hand like he is explaining something complicated. “The only problem is I have no idea where she went. I haven’t seen or heard from her in over a decade.”

Logan can’t help but scrunch his face, biting the inside of his cheek in contemplation. He knows he can’t let his selfishness get in the way of the lives at stake. If you really are the best bet to get Erik out, then so be it. 

“Fine, but we just use her to get Erik. After that, she is done.”

“Well, we have to find her first.” Charles shrugs. “I can’t use my powers, so we will need to find an alternative.”

“We have a phone book.” Hank suggests, already walking to the stack of books behind the sofa. 

“That is not going to help, but she was in a band around this time right here in New York.” Logan says, looking at Hank as he grabs the phone book. “She was playing gigs most nights in 1973.”

Charles and Hank look at one another, seemingly perplexed by this new knowledge. “How do you know this?” Charles speaks for them both.

“Let’s just say she becomes a protege of sorts for you in the future.” Logan leaves out the rest. This wasn’t the time to get into the details of his relationship. “I know the band name. We can call popular hole in the wall venues around the city to see if her band is playing tonight.”

“I’ll start looking through and making calls,” Hank offers, and sits down at Charles’ desk.

“Let us know if you find anything. The minute we know something, we leave.” Logan says. 

Logan leaves before a response is given and goes outside. The sun is bright, surprisingly not too cold for this time of year. He leans against the old brick, taking out a cigar he magically had in his pocket along with a lighter he had snatched off the desk. He cuts the end with his claw, and lets it sink back in as he puts it to his lips. He goes to light, his hand a little shaky but he eventually gets a good burn going, the taste entering pleasantly into his mouth and lungs.

He puffs out some smoke, sighing at how the events of today have turned. He had made the decision not to see you, and now he is going to have to. It’s a double-edged sword; he gets to see the beautiful woman he fell in love with, while also taking the risk of altering his and your future together. So many what if’s: what if something bad happens to you? What if you all get caught and you get sent to prison? What if you somehow realize you don’t like him in this timeline?

What if you die and he can’t save you again?

That thought alone makes him choke a little, lost in so much thought the smoke overwhelmed him. No, he can’t think like that. There is too much on the line for his emotions to play games. Besides, maybe in the end, regardless of if he ends up miserable, you’d wake up in the future safe.

He just wants everyone he loves safe.

Max’s Kansas City Nightclub; Manhattan, NY. 

Logan has been to many different nightclubs. Having been a bodyguard for hire, these types of places were nothing out of the ordinary. There were plenty of young women he was hired to watch, ones that wanted to rebel a little, that would come to these clubs to have a taste of freedom. They all had the same shit: drugs, alcohol, sex, and bad decisions.

He was starting to feel the latter.

It isn’t that he disagrees with Charles. Your mutation is powerful and would create easy access to Erik’s hold cell. You are the obvious choice. However, he can’t stop debating with himself on if dragging you into this will change the future; one where you and him are never to be. The thought alone makes his stomach turn.

Along with that, just seeing you in the flesh is enough to send him into disarray. Logan is far from a nervous man, but it has felt like an eternity since he’s seen your face. One look at you and he may not be able to hold it together. 

Him and Charles are sitting at the bar, nursing their shitty whisky. It burns the same, and by this time Logan is finishing his fourth glass, waving down the bartender for a fifth.

“Listen,” he hears Charles yell over the loud crowd. “I know you can hold your liquor but you should probably slow down.”

“Trust me, bub,” Logan shoots the fifth round down his throat, swallowing quickly. “You’ll want me as loose as possible for this.”

“What is with you? Is this about her?” Charles nods to the empty stage. “You acted very strange when discussing her today. Were you two close?” 

Logan looks down into his glass, his mouth opening and shutting not knowing what to say. It doesn’t matter, however, because before he can make a decision, drums are starting to beat down heavily. 

“1, 2, 3, 4!”

Drums start bumping, along with guitar and bass chords. The crowd starts running to the back where the stage is located, jumping and vibrating to the music. Logan looks to the stage, and lo and behold there you are on the drum kit. 

Even when you were no longer playing with a group, you played a lot at the mansion. You often taught music classes for students who just wanted to have some fun. It was also your way of releasing some steam. Charles had to soundproof the music room so your constant drum smashing wouldn’t cause a disturbance. 

But here you are, keeping perfect tempo as you keep up your rhythm. Seeing you in your element was so much more than he thought. You were an animal on those drums, totally submerged in your performance. You were smiling, interacting with other band members during each song. Whether it be adding vocals, doing theatrics with your drumsticks, or silly banter, you looked like you were meant to be up there. 

“She’s really good!” Charles yells over the music, and Logan can only nod. He is immersed in you, his nerves gone as he takes you in. He missed you so badly that seeing you again has given him some grace. He needs to be careful, but right now it doesn’t matter. He just wants to enjoy seeing you happy and alive. 

The set goes on for another twenty minutes, the songs short and quick. The crowd was getting more rowdy as the set continued. They were shouting lyrics back, heads rocking and popping as they jumped around. He sees you looking out into the crowd, only for your eyes to meet his own and then to his right. Your eyes went wide, and he turned to see Charles lifting his hand with a small wave. 

“Well, the cats out of the bag.” Charles mutters, not leaving eye contact with you.

Logan sees the shock in your features, and can sense you picking up the tempo slightly. Your bandmates didn’t seem to mind, however, as they picked it up as well and the crowd seemed to love it. The last cord plays, and the crowd cheers.

“We’d like to thank y’all for coming. Goodnight!” The vocalist said before the band walked off the small stage. You, on the other hand, didn’t follow. 

He watched you make your way through the throngs of people. The look on your face is unclear, but the moment you are in front of him, it’s like it’s just you two.

He fully takes you in. You looked about the same, maybe a little younger. You were wearing jeans with holes at the knees, beat up converse, and a white v-neck that revealed your collarbones quite nicely. A black leather jacket, that has seen better days, pulls it all together. There was a sheen of sweat at your temples, creating a shine in the baby hairs. Logan only had two thoughts in his head: that he desperately wishes he could pull you into his embrace and that you looked so sexy like this.

So incredibly sexy.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in.” You smirked, hands on your hips. 

“I must say this is a pleasant surprise.” Charles laughs, standing up from his seat. “It’s so good to see you, darling.”

“It’s good to see you too, and walking for that matter!” You pulled him in, hugging him tightly and kissing his cheek. It makes Logan shift slightly, a little jealousy lingering even though there is nothing he could do about it. 

You let Charles go, and you look at Logan, quirking your head as your eyes scan him up and down. He keeps his eyes on you, not budging.

“So Charles, who’s your friend?” 

“Ah, yes, well this here is-“

“Logan.”

Logan’s eyes go wide when your hands shoot to your head, gasping as you grip your head. He reaches out, wanting to do something to ease whatever is going on, but as soon as it starts, it stops.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I must have really overdone it with the drinking last night.” You mumbled.

Logan smirks. “A real party animal, huh?” 

“More like don’t know when to quit,” you sigh. “So, how did you know that I was playing here tonight? Or better yet, how did you even know I was doing this? Keep tabs on me up there?” 

“Actually, Logan mentioned it. He-” Charles starts, but Logan is quick to hit his back, making him double over from the impact.

“What he means is it is a long story, and we should go somewhere else to discuss it.” Logan says with urgency, hoping his tone takes your attention away from how he’s acting.

“Why not talk about it here?” You shrug, going to the bar to order a drink. “The night is still young.”

“This conversation needs to be for your ears only. It is highly confidential.” Charles interjects.

“Hmm,” you don’t look at him, finally getting the bartender’s attention. “Trying to drag me back into some bullshit, Charles?”

“Bullshit that could save everyone’s life, sweetheart.” Logan says. He isn’t used to your slight indifference, but it is something he is going to have to get used to. You are a different person during this time, after all.

You turn back to them, sighing before you lift your hand up, middle finger and thumb pressed together before snapping. Everything stops instantly. Drinks that are being poured freeze. People talking with others go still with mouths open trying to get the next word. The lights stop flickering, some looking to be out while others keep the light. 

Time goes still. Except for the three of them.

His eyes go to look at you, where you are wearing a smug look. 

“My ears only, right?” You say, lifting your drink like you are cheering for something. “So start talking.”

The Pentagon; Arlington, VA

The Pentagon was incredibly crowded, which was to be expected. Tours were taking place. People were rushing to get to their posts. Security was at each corner of the building. There is a lot of commotion, yet you knew this would be a piece of cake. And yet, you couldn’t believe you had agreed to do this. 

When Logan had explained he was from the future, a future where everyone will eventually become slaughtered, it took you aback. It was hard to think about. You knew the U.S. Government has an aversion to mutants, but to create a weapon to wipe them clean with Raven’s DNA? You shouldn’t be surprised, not with everything currently going on, but you are.

The plane ride was fairly quiet. Hank and Charles were in the cockpit, leaving Logan and you in the main lounging area. You had noticed Logan looking at you quite a bit throughout the quick ride. It was like he wanted to say something, but he couldn’t. You could’ve sworn you saw something akin to pining in his eyes, but you brushed it off. You didn’t know if it was his way of figuring you out, or if there was something else. 

You wondered if you and him are connected somehow. With the headaches coinciding around Logan, you couldn’t help but wonder if your mutation is doing something new, something it couldn’t do before because you have never met a time traveler. Not until now. 

Maybe you will get answers later. Right now, you have a job to do. 

You are standing in the middle of the Pentagon’s main sector, mentally preparing yourself for this. You would have to hold time for thirty minutes, enough time for Charles and Hank to reach and retrieve Erik from his cell. This only gives them fifteen in and fifteen out.

“Are you sure about this?” You hear Logan say from beside you. “We can find another way if it is going to be too much.”

He sounds so sincere, and it oddly does something for you. Here is a man you don’t know much about caring about your wellbeing. For someone of his apparent nature, it is endearing. 

“I’ll be fine, but I appreciate you caring enough to ask.” You smile at him, and the smile he gives back makes your stomach flutter. Just a little bit. 

“Alright here goes nothing.” You turn to look at Charles and Hank. “The second everything stops, grab an authorized personnel card off of one of the security guards and go quickly.” 

“And you’re sure we are the best people to do this?” Charles mutters, looking torn.

You smirk at him. “Oh, Charles. You may not realize this. but he cares about you. Maybe this is the reunion you need.” 

“I doubt it,” he grumbles but nods at you to go on.

You look forward, hands slightly in front of you before snapping your fingers. It isn’t instant like it usually is. It travels, people coming to a stop before everything is completely still and silent. It takes a lot of focus and precision on your part. You’ve never had to freeze an entire building, let alone one that runs so deep. 

As told, Charles and Hank make quick work, grabbing a card from a guard right by the door they needed to go through. Once the door shut, it was just you and Logan, who had insisted he stay in case something happens.

You sense his eyes on you again, just as he had on the plane. Minutes pass, and you think maybe he will say something, but no. It’s just radio silence. You could handle it on the plane, but right now? Absolutely not.

You roll your eyes at his behavior. “You psychoanalyzing me or something? I can multitask, you know.”

Logan moves so he is facing you, and he is only two steps away from you. You notice he is much taller than you, maybe by a foot. His attire is oddly fitting for someone from the future. The brown leather, the feather pattern on his shirt, and god the big ass belt buckle with blue jeans that fit his legs so nicely. You had to ask.

“So, if you are from the future, I gotta ask: did you come dressed like that?” 

He looks down at what he is wearing, inspecting himself. “What’s wrong with how I’m dressed?”

He looked so self-conscious. It was cute. “Not at all. Just not something I expected someone from the future to wear.”

“Well, technically I am in my younger self’s body. This is how I dressed in 1973.” He chuckles. “I guess I still dressed like this though, before everything went to shit.”

“So, you an old man now or something?” 

He smirks at you. “I’m probably older than your great grandfather, sweetheart.”

Your eyes widen at that statement. “Is that your mutation? Being immortal?”

“Amongst other things,” he holds out his hand, and within a blink of an eye claws are coming out from in between his knuckles. You tilt your head in awe, admiring the bones that are tinted yellow. He then lets them sink back in, the wounds healing instantly.

“Regenerative healing. That’s pretty neat,” you say. “Still must hurt though.”

“Every time,” Logan hums. “But you get used to it.” 

“I see,” you murmur, not knowing what to say after that. Luckily, Logan keeps going.

“You must practice a lot for you to stop time in a place like this.”

You can’t help the chuckle that slips your lips. “I wouldn’t call it practice. I just get myself into stupid situations.”

Logan grins, taking a step closer to you. “Yeah? Like what?”

“Well, a few weeks ago we got into a tussle with the police. They decided to start some shit at another club we were playing at. Gave me a black eye even.” You answered, oddly making light of the memory.

“Bet you still looked just as pretty,” Logan joked, but with the way he was looking at you, you’d think he was being serious.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter. “But then they started making arrests. That’s when I shifted time back. Warned my bandmates before they came in. They were confused about the black eye though.”

This made Logan laugh, and you swear your heart did a double take. Why was this man affecting me like this?

“I like the idea of you getting a little rough. It’s very different.” Logan purrs, and before you can ask what he means, you feel your powers start to weaken.

“Shit,” you curse, hands clenching in front of you. 

“What’s wrong?” 

You grunt in response, trying to pull yourself together. “How long has it been since they’ve left? Shouldn’t they be back by now?”

“It’s been about thirty minutes,” he confirms. “You are certain time has stopped in this entire building?”

“I’m very certain. I wouldn’t be struggling right now if it weren’t.” You say with gritted teeth, getting lightheaded. “Logan, I told them thirty minutes. If I hold on any longer, I’ll pass out.”

Logan is looking around, searching for something before he takes off in a path you can’t see. You are breathing heavily, trying hard to focus but you can feel yourself slipping. It’s like you are on a cliff holding onto loose rocks waiting for them to slip. 

“Okay look at me, baby.”

Baby?

You look to see he is holding a key card. He holds your attention, nodding to the door Charles and Hank went through. “We are going to walk over to the door. I’m going to open it with this. When I do, let go.” 

“Fuck, what if we get caught?” You whimper, the mental pain starting to get stronger. 

“I won’t let that happen again.” 

Again?

Before you could contemplate his words, he’s got his arm wrapped around your torso. His left hand holds your leather clad wrist, keeping you steady as two start to walk.

“Small steps, small steps. That’s right,” Logan encourages, keeping pace with you as you walk slowly. 

He’s holding you gingerly, like you will break if he lets go. It’s strange but you welcome it. You've never had anyone hold you with such care before. You were rough around the edges. Most people think you can handle anything, but it’s almost as if Logan has done this before; a common feeling you’ve had ever since you laid eyes on him.

He stopped at the door, pulling the keycard from his left pocket and scanning it. The light blinks green and he pushes it, keeping it open with his foot as he looks at you.

“You ready?” 

You nod slightly. “Just tell me when.”

“Now!”

You immediately drop your hands, and Logan is shoving you through the threshold. You gasp holding onto your chest as Logan keeps his grip on you so you don’t fall. You take a deep breath, calming yourself down enough to keep going. 

“We need to get moving. We will get caught if we stay here.”

Logan nods, letting go of you to look at the map beside the door. You miss his touch already.

“We need to get to this elevator,” he points to the elevator in the south wing. “It’ll take us to the kitchen that leads to the lower cell.”

Without another word, you two are running. You put your hands up again, freezing time again but only in the areas you two are passing. It makes your brain fuzzy, but you push on. Logan looks back at you from time to time to check on you, worry evident on his face.

“I’m fine, keep going!” You press. 

Before you two know it, you are both at the elevator. Logan is clicking the button repeatedly like it’ll come faster, and within a few seconds it opens. You both rush in there, and Logan repeats his treatment to the closing button before the doors ultimately close. 

You lean against the metal wall, taking a deep breath and praying to whatever God is listening that no one gets on this damn elevator. You don’t know if you have it in you to protect you and Logan if someone gets on. 

Luck was on your side, however. The elevator dinged, and when you looked up you saw it was listed as the floor you were getting off on. A sigh of relief escapes your lips, but it gets sucked back into your throat when you hear alarms. The elevator doors open and a multitude of men with chef kitchen attire run in completely drenched. 

Before either of you get crushed by the masses, you grab Logan’s hand and yank him out. You hear more commotion coming from down the hall, yelling and crashing. You walk past Logan, jogging towards the noise. You make it to the door, hearing the voices loud and clear, and you bust in to see the insanity. 

The kitchen was a wreck. The water is still coming as the alarm blares on. You see Hank trying to pull Charles off of Erik, but he won’t budge. Everything is a mess, and something about it sends you spiraling.

“Oh fuck no!”

You are hurling yourself at these men. You grab Charles’s jacket, and with the help of Hank yank him off of Erik. Hank flies to the floor, and you slam Charles to the wall. He looks so pitiful, and it makes you sick.

“I said thirty fucking minutes,” you seethe. “My power has limits, and this is the reason you all pushed them today? Because you couldn’t help yourself?”

Charles is silent, looking at you with complete guilt. Good, you think. He should feel fucking guilty.

“I could have passed out. You are so lucky I had Logan, or your ass would be going to prison.”

You let go of him, shoving him more into the wall as a warning, and turn to the other two knuckleheads. Hank and Erik are standing, looking at you in shock. They are really about to be in shock, however, because you weren’t done.

“You,” you pointed at Hank. “I know you hate your mutation, but your self-hatred almost fucked us all. I know you aren’t that fucking weak, especially to pull his scrawny ass off of that dumbass.”

“Well, it’s good to see you too-” you hear Erik start. You don’t let him finish.

“And you,” you shout, walking up to him and gripping the white prison uniform at the collars. “I know you are probably very shocked to see all of us. However, and understand this clearly, you do as we say. I am not about to have my future or anyone else’s fucked up because of you. You hear me?” 

Erik smirks at you. “Yes, ma’am.” God, you wish you could wipe that look off his face.

You huff, shoving him away from you. “Let’s get out before we get caught.” 

“It might be too late for that.” You hear Charles say, and you turn to see five Pentagon security members, plastic guns drawn.

“Charles,” Erik calls out. “Do something, Charles.”

“I can’t,” Charles says under his breath.

“Hands up or we will shoot!” One of the security officers yells, their fingers right on the trigger.

You groan at how worthless everyone is acting, and using your anger, you snap your fingers and immediately clench your fists. The cops freeze in place, and you are panting as your muscles suck up all the oxygen in your body.

“Someone better knock them out before I give out and-“ you are cut off by the sound of a pan connecting to skulls. 

Logan was knocking these men out with ease, his strength apparent as the metal clangs. He is moving like a natural, arm swinging precisely to hit each man standing. It was captivating and watching him breathing in and out in his drenched clothes was very hot. You could feel your underwear start to cling to you, and you knew it wasn’t just from the water coming from the sprinklers.

You let go, hands going to your knees as you catch your breath once again. Logan is immediately by your side.

“Let’s get out of here,” Logan commands, and he wraps his arms around your torso to sit you straight up.

“I got you, sweetheart. Just hold onto me,” Logan says in a low tone, like talking any louder would disturb the already broken peace.

Without a word, you grip onto him and you two walk out of the kitchen to the elevator. The others are waiting for you two, keeping the elevator open and soon enough you are all in. 

It’s amazing to you that you all made it out. Charles was smart enough to know to go through a back exit, and luckily Erik was able to move the cameras to face a different direction. It was as if none of you were ever there, other than the fact those security officers saw you. You’re hoping Logan hit them hard enough for them to forget.

Charles had parked the rental car close by, shoving yourselves in before going off onto the road. You are in the middle in the backseat, with Logan still holding you close. Erik was to you right, working to put on the jacket and hat Charles had brought to make him less recognizable. 

Well, less recognizable to fucking idiots maybe.

“Alright, where to now?” Erik asks, still trying to get the jacket on in the packed backseat.

“We need to get her home.” Logan replies.

“What?!” You shout, feeling complete disbelief. “Why am I going home?!”

“Listen, thank you for your help. But this is dangerous, and you shouldn’t get mixed up in it.” Logan continues, his tone a lot more serious than it has been today. 

“I just fucking infiltrated the Pentagon and now you are worried about dragging me into this mess?” 

Logan is quiet, and you only get more pissed off. Who the hell does he think he is? 

You push his arm off of you, twisting your body so you are looking directly at him. “I don’t know if you noticed, but if I weren’t there today, you all would’ve been fucked. I care about what happens, and y’all need me. So, I apologize but I’m fucking coming.”

Logan’s shoulders drooped, his hand going to rub his face. He breathes out, as if he’s trying to calm himself down, before turning to look out the window.

“Fine.”

“Good, so we are in agreement.” You say, before laying back against the middle cushion. 

You let your eyes close as the sounds of the cars and bumps of the road lull you to rest. The chill from the water sets in, and subconsciously you find yourself wishing those strong, warm arms that had held you so much today would wrap around you once more.

The Atlantic Ocean

Fucking bastards.

Logan doesn’t understand how Charles and Erik were ever friends. Imagining them as anything but seemed easier. Maybe it’s the full rage of testosterone in their younger bodies. It would explain the extreme yelling, bickering, anger, grief. He understands the need to release all of that, but he already hates flying. Getting the man who can control metal upset isn’t a great idea in an aircraft. 

Things eventually calm down, but what’s left is now a mess of broken glass and ceramic. Charles exits the lounge to go to the cockpit, and at the angle Logan is at he can see Charles with his head in his hands. He feels bad truthfully, seeing him so broken down and beaten up isn’t easy. It reminds him a lot of himself. Looking at Erik, who looks like he hadn’t been in a prison for almost a decade, irritates him slightly. But what irritates him more is that he almost crashed the fucking plane.

“So, you were always an asshole.” 

As if on cue, he hears the door to the backroom open and you walk out. You are rubbing your eyes, holding onto the wall as your eyes double take on the view. 

“Looks like I missed something eventful,” you yawn, walking over to start picking up broken glass.

“Hey, don’t do that. Let him do it,” Logan says, pulling a cigar out and putting it under the lighter’s flame. “He did this. Let him pick this shit up.”

Erik puts his hand up, letting you know he’s got it. As he starts cleaning up, Logan watches you carefully walk over to sit across the table from him. You lean across it, crossing your arms as you leave your eyes on him. “Give him a break. He’s been through a lot.”

Logan looks your way, taking another puff of his cigar. “Yeah, and he could’ve killed us.”

You shrug, leaning back into the seat while keeping eye contact. “Couldn’t have been that bad. I woke up to the plane flying smoothly.”

Logan takes another puff, a grin wanting to desperately pull onto his lips. Still a heavy sleeper.

“I think you just sleep like the dead,” Logan jokes, leaning forward with his elbows settling on the table.

“I guess.” Your head turned to the window, eyes closing and opening in slow succession. “But seriously, what did we expect? They may have similar ideals for mutant kind, but they are different sides of the same coin. I’m sure seeing one another after a whole decade makes it hard to keep everything bottled up.”

Logan nods in agreement because he can relate. When he saw you for the first time after what felt like a lifetime, it took everything in him not to pull you in. Even now, watching you as the light reflects on your face, he wishes he could seat you in his lap like he would after a long day of training. Having his arms around you as you curled into his side, feeling your warmth against him, made everyday worth living. 

There was some reprieve when he was helping you after you stretched your powers to your limits, but he longs for you. He longs for your body, your kisses, your comfort, your love. He longs to show you how much you mean to him, to tell you he loves you. It is too much sometimes, especially in the kitchen at the Pentagon. Seeing how aggressive you were and smelling your scent change to something of want is making everything so much harder. He was already so worked up, he could have easily snapped, but he didn’t and it hurts. It hurts so fucking bad. 

There is a part of him that wishes you weren’t here, so he could finally focus, but in reality he is thankful you chose to stay. He knows it is for selfish reasons, but at the same time he knew they’d be lost without you. You give him the strength to keep going; the strength to push forward, even when it’s painful to keep everything he wants to do and say inside. So, he gets it. He gets it so much.

Logan notices you looking at him, and realizes he was staring. He coughs, trying to hide his embarrassment as he puts the cigar to his lips. 

“So, is that why you didn’t join either of them after Cuba?” 

Your smile is small, like you were reminiscing. “Both had very good points, and it makes sense why they believe the way that they do. Charles tends to see the best in people and Erik sees the worst.”

“So, you couldn’t pick a side?”

“I was only seventeen at the time,” you say. “I wasn’t about to let two grown men tell me what to do, and I’m glad I didn’t. I’m not their keeper.” 

“Smart girl.”

You laugh at this, and it feels like dopamine is being injected into his brain. This is the first time he has felt… Joy? Happiness? He could listen to it for days.

“You said they sent you here together. Do they actually become friends again?”

Logan sends a small smile your way, but shakes his head. “It’s complicated.” And it really is. Logan is sure that if the Sentinel’s never came to be, they would still be at some sort of odds against each other. “Like you said, same coin, different sides.”

“I see,” you start to tap your fingers against the table, a nervous habit Logan had picked up on when you two met the first time. “Since we are talking, you never answered my question.”

Logan lifts an eyebrow in confusion, not realizing anything was asked. 

“The other night at Max’s. Charles said you knew where to find me. How did you know?”

Logan only hums, taping his cigar to let the ash pool into the crystal tray. He feels like revealing anything about the future is a bad omen, but his restraint is wearing thin, and he can’t help but relent.

“You told me.”

“So, we know each other in the future?”

Oh, you don’t even know the half of it, sweetheart.

“We do,” Logan breathes out. 

You leaned in closer, your jaw in your hands. “Are we friends?”

Not quite. “Sure, yeah. We’re friends.”

“Are we close?” You are smiling big, teeth showing. He missed that smile. 

“Very close,” he leans in towards you, faces a few inches apart. “So close that I know everything about you.”

“Yeah?” Your eyes flash. “Like what?”

“Ask me something.” He is feeling cocky now.

“Okay,” you draw out, looking around as you contemplate, before your eyes shine back at him. “What’s my favorite band?” 

“They don’t exist yet. Not for another couple of decades.”

“What? Really?” You gasped.

“The genre doesn’t even exist yet,” Logan grinned, seeing you surprised going right to his head. “But right now, it would probably be Velvet Underground.” 

“Wow, you’re good.” You compliment. “Okay, how about my favorite color?”

“Really?”

“Should be easy if you know me so well.”

Logan vibrates, loving the back and forth happening between the two of you. “It’s blue. Dark blue especially because you love how the sky looks after the sun has set.”

You look down, and Logan wasn’t having any of that, lifting your chin with one finger. He moves forward just an inch more. “You’re going to have to ask something a little harder, sweetheart.”

You shy away from him, still staying close, a rush of pink added to your cheeks. Fuck, you are so beautiful. 

“Okay, well,” you say, still looking away from him. “There is something else I can do with my mutation. What is it that I can do?”

Logan knows this answer far too well. It’s the only reason he was able to be with you as he is, even though he truly believes he would’ve fallen in love with you regardless.

“You can stop yourself from aging.” Logan whispers, not wanting the others to hear. “You use time to stop the clock in your body. You did it for a year after Cuba to try and gain back the time that was lost.”

“I wanted to finish high school, as crazy as that sounds.” You chuckle.

“More like you wanted to continue doing marching band,” Logan says, laughing as you smack his arm. 

“Oh God, you must really know me if you know that!” You cackle. “I started aging again after I graduated though.”

“Why is that? Didn’t want to stay seventeen forever?” Logan tries to make light of it, but he knows why. He always knows why.

“Well,” you paused, leaning back into your seat with your hands still on the table. “The war in Vietnam got worse. There were a lot of boys I went to school with that got drafted, and they didn’t make it. If they did, they came back completely altered. Made me realize this isn’t a world worth living in for too long, I guess.”

“I get the feeling,” Logan responds, to which part he isn’t sure.

“And now that I know that the future's so bleaker, is there really a reason to want to keep living for longer than you need to?” You were looking at him so genuinely, and it broke his heart. 

He sets his cigar down in the tray and goes to take your hands into his with a squeeze. He looks right at you, hoping what he’s conveying reaches your ears with sincerity and hope. “We can change that tomorrow, and when we do, you will have a reason to keep going.” 

The conversation continues for a while, going back to answering questions for you and seeing your face light up when he guesses correctly, and he does every single time. It’s dark out now, the new day counting down to start. Logan can feel himself getting tired, but you? You were dozing off fast with your head against the plane's wall. 

“Hey,” Logan reaches over the table, shaking your shoulder. “You should go lay down. We have a long day tomorrow.”

You yawn, stretching your limbs before blinking a few times. “Are you sure? I slept in for most of the day. You should take it.”

“I insist. Besides, I’m sure you don’t want to sleep in here with these bozos.” Logan looks in the direction of Erik and Charles, one sleeping in the chair and the other sprawled on the couch.

“I suppose you’re right, but will you be okay?” 

“I’m used to sleeping wherever, so this is nothing. Please, get some sleep.”

Logan watches you get up from your seat, walking over to him before leaning down to his ear. “Goodnight, Logan. Sweet dreams.”

He feels your lips against his cheek, and he inhales sharply. He turns to watch you go into the backroom, and after a long few seconds he releases in an exhale. He puts his head in his hands, rubbing his temples in some poor attempt to calm himself, but his thoughts run fast and there is no stopping them.

He can feel himself close to snapping. It’s like everything you do is calling him in, daring him to do something. He knows it is insane. You don’t know him. If he were to do something, confess everything, what would that do for the future? Everything he says and does can change what the future holds, and a selfish part of him doesn’t care. When it comes to you, he is a selfish bastard.

He leans back in his seat, closing his eyes. Tomorrow is the day things will be set right. When that happens, maybe he will wake up to a world where you are still there. He just needs to hold on a little longer.

Hotel Majestic; Paris, France; Day of the Paris Peace Accords

Getting into the hotel was surprisingly easy. You thought security would’ve been on a high alert, but it was oddly empty. Everyone is able to walk around freely without worry, yet you are still on edge. 

You don’t know why, but you’ve had an uneasy feeling ever since the plane landed. You keep relaying it back to nerves, but you know you are lying to yourself. Something isn’t right, and the lack of security here is only making you feel worse.

“Not much security here for a big event like today,” Logan says.

“It’s still a hotel. Anyone can still stay here.” Charles responds. “We still need to be careful though. Stay alert.”

You all make it to the staircase, and you see a map of the hotel. You point to the eastern wing, seeing how the third floor has a section for conference rooms. “Their meeting is most likely happening somewhere here.”

“Okay, let’s get there quick. We are running out of time.” Logan says urgently, and with that everyone is running up the stairs.

Logan is ahead of everyone, and you take notice how much his demeanor changed. He is ultra-focused, his mind only on one thing, and you can’t blame him. You’re sure he is under an insane amount of pressure to ensure he pulls through given the future circumstances. However, you’ve taken notice of how he keeps glancing at you with every chance he gets and it makes you wonder if there isn’t something else going on in that head of his.

Before you can ponder more on it, you hear yelling. You hear things moving harshly and what sounds like bodies hitting the floor. You all take a turn and see a flood of Vietnamese, Russian, and American military personnel running out of a room you can only assume is where your target is: Raven.

You all enter the room, and everything happens so quickly. Raven’s body hits the table, Charles is at her side, and Erik takes the tasers that latched to her body and gets them onto the man to the right of the table.

You hear a rapid beeping and to your left you see a man holding a device, red lines blaring as it goes off. You realize it is Trask, recognizing him from the papers.

You walk up, and before he can probably comprehend what is happening, you snatch the device from his hand. “I’ll take this”

You aren’t scared of him but you back away slowly, ensuring he cannot do anything behind your back. You hear another thump, and turn to see Logan against the wall breathing heavy with eyes screwed tight.

“Logan,” you speak up, walking towards him, but with a few steps in you feel a rush of pain to your head.

You collapse onto the floor, hands holding your head as you start to shake. The pain is sharp and static, forming at the base of your neck and wrapping around your head suffocatingly. You can hear someone calling your name, but it sounds distant. 

“Erik…” you hear the fear in Raven’s voice, and with all you can muster you look to see Erik holding a gun. The same one Raven had to kill Trask, now pointed at her head.

Your brain isn’t comprehending anything Erik is saying, but his face is stone cold. Any hope that you were missing something was lost because you knew what he was going to do. It doesn’t take a clear head to see that.

You try to put your hand up, attempting to stop Erik in his tracks. The second your fingers touch his ankle, he kicks it off and places his foot on your wrist. You moan in pain, his weight pressing down enough to bruise.

“I’m sorry, my dear. I’m afraid you are out of commission.” Erik says calmly without taking a peep at you.

Everything happens in slow motion. The pressure is off your wrist, a gun shot sounds, and glass shatters. Your vision is blurry, your head feeling as if it’ll pop off. The people in your vision blur together like paint bleeding in water. Voices are muddled and slow, but loud. You are in agony, and you just want everything to stop.

You start to hear more noise from the other side of the room, and you see Logan’s blurred silhouette on the floor with his back against the wall. His hands clenched in his lap with claws out, breathing rapidly like someone would when they are having a panic attack. You grunt, pushing yourself up on your hands and knees with your jaw clenching tightly as the pain spikes. You crawl towards him with intent, and all you can think is Logan helped you when you were growing weak. He needs someone, and you will help him. Even if it fucking kills you. 

“Logan, please say something,” you grit through your teeth, biting back against the strong pulse in your head.

He is unresponsive, and your own panic rises. You both can’t be down, not now. The fate of the world is happening at this very moment, and you aren’t going to let this new ailment weaken you. You grab his left hand, being careful not to freak him out, and quickly change to have a grip on his wrists. You position yourself so you’re hovering over him, knees on either side of his thighs. His eyes are closed shut, his head shaking. It seemed like he was having a nightmare while still being awake.

“Logan, can you hear me?” You say with fast breaths, your head only getting worse, but still there is no response.

Fuck, I have to do something. 

You decide to think fast. Maybe, just maybe, you can stop his internal clock, keeping him in place until you can figure out how to get him out of this. You are a little afraid to do it in his current state, not knowing if he will react before everything settles in, but you have no choice. Not unless you want him to cave in on himself. You will stay in pain if it means helping him.

“I got you, Logan. I got you,” you whisper with a tremor and put your hands to his temples, letting your power weasel its way through his mind. Your head clears instantaneously, the throbbing ebb dissipating, causing a sigh of relief to wash over you. However, that relief takes a turn into something startling.

You aren’t sure what’s happening. Logan wasn’t freezing like you were anticipating, but something else was occurring. Your power feels different, like it was searching for something. Whatever you were doing, it seemed to be working. His breathing had slowed down, his claws retracted, and his body became lax against the wall. 

The oddest part of all of this though is that you can see everything. It’s like your mind has become a VCR, and a VHS tape of his best memories has been inserted. It’s kind of nice to witness, seeing that even with all he’s gone through, things got better. However, the next thing you see makes your heart stop.

Everything is subdued, but you can tell he is outside on the lawn of Charles’s mansion. It’s bright out, and you see trees. You see young children running around playing, some using their mutations to get the upper hand in their games. And then he shifts, his eyes going to his side to see a figure beside him. His hand reaches out to them and the image clears. 

It’s you. Holy shit, it’s you!

You looked older. Not by much but maybe by a few years. The way you’re presented is more mature, but still has that edge. You honestly liked it, and liked the idea of who you would become.

His hand goes to your face, stroking the skin of your cheek and you watch as both of your hands go to the one lingering. You pressed a kiss to his palm, eyes closing and staying that way until you open them and pull your lips away.

“I didn’t know you had come home.” You said, but it was playful. 

“Got back early this morning. Didn’t want to wake you.”

“You can always wake me up, Logan. I missed you so much.” 

“You have no idea how much I missed you, sweetheart.”

You watch his arms pull you in, but before you watch it happen your mind forces itself away. You feel tears dotting your face. And from the looks of it, Logan had tears on his face too. 

What was all that?

“Is he okay?” You hear Charles coming from behind you, a slight edge to his voice.

“I-I got him,” you stutter, shock still in your system. “You and Hank stop Erik.”

There’s no response except for feet pacing away and out the door. You look around and see everyone is gone, most likely getting out during the chaos. You hear a grunt, and turn to see Logan’s eyebrows scrunched up. His lips are quivering, and he is starting to shake again. When you see more teardrops form, you let go of him.

“Shit, I overdid it,” you say under your breath, even though you have zero clue on what you did.

His eyes shoot open, causing you to almost jump off of him if it weren’t for him pulling you back to him. His hands are on your face, thumbs pressing into your cheeks like he doesn’t know if you are really here or not. He says your name softly, a hint of disbelief in his tone.

“Logan, are you okay?” You say, hands going to his wrists to steady yourself. In that instance he pulls you in, gripping you tightly in his hold and rocking back and forth with you. 

“Oh God, you’re alive. Fuck I thought I lost you.” You hear the pain in his voice, but it confuses you.

“Logan, I’m right here. I’m okay,” you reassure, arms wrapping around his head. You try to comfort him, but he just grips you harder. 

“I’m sorry,” he says but it’s muffled with his face buried in your neck. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.”

There is a dampness from his tears, along with the feel of his lips on your skin. His kisses are bruising, like he is trying to convince himself. You, on the other hand, are experiencing so much. You don’t know Logan, but it is very apparent he knows you. He says you two were close friends, but the more he continues to kiss your neck, the more you think there is something else he isn’t telling you. You can take a pretty good guess to what that is.

You are starting to think you’re going to be in this position forever, until you hear footsteps enter the room. 

“We need to get ou-“ you can hear that it’s Charles. “What’s going on?”

Your mouth opens to say something but shuts when nothing comes out. You don’t know what to say and you don’t want to say anything that may set Logan into another fit of unrest. 

“Charles, go pull the car around discreetly. Make sure you have Hank. We will be down shortly.” 

Once again, Charles leaves with no response. You turn your attention back to Logan, who is still weeping against you. You keep holding him tightly, thinking about how you are going to get him up to leave. As luck would have it, however, it is like something snaps back inside him because next thing you know you are being pushed away.

“What are you doing?” 

You quickly hop off of him, standing up in the process to provide some distance. You observe him, and see the shift back to how he was before he started to spiral. Still, there is something wild in his eyes, and you have yet to determine if that’s a good or a bad sign.

“Oh thank God,” you sigh in relief. “You had me worried for a second.”

He groans, rubbing his head as he gets his bearings. You should wait to ask; you really should. But you need to know what he saw, and more specifically if he saw what you had seen.

“What happened? What did you see?” 

“I saw someone that is going to bring me a lot of pain one day.” Logan looks to the side, and you follow his gaze to where that military man once was. 

“I also saw…” he starts, only to look around and notice you two are the only ones in there. “Where is everyone? Where’s Raven?”

“She’s… she’s gone.”

“What?” His head snaps to you, eyes blown wide.

You look down, a sigh leaving your lips at today’s turn of events. You feel the room shift, a tension building that feels foreign to you. You feel guilty, even though you know you shouldn’t, but you feel like you’ve failed him. He is here to fix things, and now no one has a clue if what happened will make things better or worse. From how he is reacting, it can only be the latter. 

“We need to leave.” Logan mutters, already walking towards the exit. “Let’s go.”

He isn’t looking at you but waits for you to move. You nod, even though there is no recognition to come, and you walk ahead with him trailing behind you.

Yep, definitely the latter.

Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters; Westchester, NY

The trip back felt like it had taken years off your lifespan, the stress that had surrounded the jet almost unbearable. Everyone had feelings of failure and guilt, as it took no telepath to see that, but what made things worse was how much Logan was distancing himself.

You had thought after what happened you would get to know more, but there was none of that, not even a word. It’s like you had burned him with the way he kept his distance. Even on the jet, a space with little room, he stayed far. You had purposely moved closer, and he made an excuse to get up only to sit at the opposite end of the jet. It upset you, and you hate that it did. You shouldn’t feel anything about him, yet after that stupid memory you saw, you do. How could you not?

You didn’t realize it at the time, but feeling how far he is from you makes your body ache in a way that’s unfamiliar. The way your body had felt against his, how solid he was, had you yearning. The way he had held you like you were the most precious thing he possessed had you wanting. If you are interpreting his memory correctly, then why is he holding you from such a distance?

Does he feel like it would be cheating? You know that’s you but that isn’t you now. You are different but how different? Different enough to warrant him to see you as a completely different person?

To be fair, you don’t know his past or even his future, but your heart is starting to want to go where he is. It’s like there is a red string connected between you two that stretches far and wide. You can’t help but think you harbor these feelings because no matter what, you were destined to be with him and he was destined for you. Nothing can cut that string, but it can stretch tightly and that string is losing its thread.

Currently, you are sitting at the top of the stairs, waiting for someone to come out of Charles’s room. Logan and Hank had taken him there, his legs having given out and his mind going off the rails as the effects of his medicine wear off. You chose to distance yourself so as to not overcrowd.

You could hear them talking, sometimes with voices raising and then going soft again. You couldn’t make out what they were discussing, only hearing certain words that have no meaning without context. It isn’t until you hear the door click open that you stand, seeing Hank leaving the room quickly followed by Logan. 

“Is he okay?” You ask, watching Hank come towards you fast.

“He’s going to try and find Raven using Cerebro.” He says walking fast past you down the stairs. “Getting his wheelchair!”

Logan follows him, not glancing at you or saying a word causing you to frown. You are hot on his heels, having more questions desperate for answers.

“Logan, is he going to be alright?” 

“Yep, just fine. Hank and I will be right beside him.” Logan says curtly, walking towards Charles’s old office.

“What about me?” You ask, but it falls on deaf ears as he starts to look for something.

“Logan.” You were starting to get frustrated. What the fuck is his problem?

He finally finds what he’s looking for, and you see him slam a phone book onto the desk. He is flipping through it just a touch too aggressive, pages cringing as he flips the pages. He then stops and puts his finger down on a number before picking up the phone and clocking in the digits.

“Seriously, Logan. Who could you possibly be calling?” You ask him, only to get fucking pissed at his next few words.

“I need a cab for 1407 Graymalkin Lane-”

“What the hell are you doing?!” You storm towards him, getting more irritated by the second.

“Calling you a taxi. You are going home.” Logan growls out, about to continue speaking before you snatch the phone from him and slam it back down. 

“Like hell I am!” You yell. “Just as I told you a couple days ago, I am not going anywhere. You all need me.” 

He slams his hands down against the table, making you jump back. “Listen here, princess. I don’t care how much you think we need you because it doesn’t fucking matter. We need to focus. I need to focus. I cannot do that with you here, so you are going to take a cab back to New York City. Do you understand?”

The daggers in his eyes are sharp, trying to make you give in to his demands. You know better and you can see right through him. “Is this about what happened in Paris?”

He scoffs, turning away from you to walk away. “It was nothing you need to worry about. Just saw someone that is going to make my life hell. I am fine.”

“That isn’t what I am talking about. When I was trying to calm you down, I saw something.” You say, and it stops him in his tracks.

“What do you mean you saw something?” He turns, facing you. “What could you have possibly seen?” 

“I was trying to stop your panic attack by stopping the conception of time in your brain, but I did something else. Something I didn’t know I could do.” You explain, and his face softens from anger to confusion.

“I think I somehow moved your consciousness forward in time,” you continued. “I was able to see where I was moving it. It was how I was able to get you to settle down.”

He is in front of you instantly, hands on your shoulders in a tight grip. “What did you see?”

“I saw myself through your eyes.” You breathed out. “We were out on the lawn behind the mansion.”

“What else did you see?” Logan shakes you a little, causing you to squeak. He is starting to scare you a little bit; the way he is behaving is very irrational.

“That was all I saw, I swear.” You say honestly. 

Logan sighs deeply, tilting his head back with eyes closed. He lets go of you, taking steps back until he’s against the wall. You are growing worried with how he is acting. You wish he would just tell you everything. Tell you what you two really were. Tell you what is running through his head. Tell you what is scaring him so badly. Seeing him so vulnerable has shaken you, but you can’t back down.

“We weren’t just friends,” you whisper. “We were far more, weren’t we?”

Logan’s breath hitches, and his mouth opens to speak but no words come. 

“It explains everything. The way you’ve been acting since we met. I can see the longing in your eyes. I can see it in the way you look after me. What I don’t understand is why you didn’t tell me.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Logan laughs but it isn't playful. It sounds like a laugh that comes to cover the hurt and is full of self-pity.

“It matters to me!” You lament. “I want to know why.”

“Listen,” Logans says, his tone becoming solemn. “Whatever I say or do here affects the future as we know it. Me even being in the same vicinity as you these last few days has made everything extremely difficult for me. If say or do one thing wrong, that’s it. The future I have with you ceases to exist and you cease to exist.”

“What do you mean I cease to exist?” You ask, taken aback by his confession.

Logan’s face pales, quickly turning to go back up the stairs. “Fuck, I’ve said to much.”

Your hand grabs his, yanking him back enough to keep him still. “Logan, what do you mean I cease to exist?”

Both of your emotions are running high, bubbling to the point of overflow; the edge you both were teetering on, about to fall over. You shouldn’t push it, but rationality is no longer home; only frustration.

“Logan, I swear to God if you don’t tell me what the fuck it is you mean I-“

“You die in the future! Is that what you want to hear?” Logan shouts, and everything goes quiet.

You are stunned. “What?”

“You die during the first few Sentinel attacks.” Logan rips his hand away like he’s having an adverse reaction.

“So,” you start, not knowing where you want to go with this question. “So you’re afraid I’m sealing my fate by being here?”

“I’m afraid I once again won’t be able to save you.” Logan says with a pained expression. 

“You don’t need to worry about me. If something happens, I can just shift time back and we can prevent it.”

“God, you are still so stubborn,” he heaves. He is now face level with you on the steps, and he takes your face in his hands. 

“You don’t understand how hard it is for me to stay away. The first time I saw you at the nightclub, all I wanted to do was pull you into me. It is taking everything in me not to hold you like I want to. To kiss you, to love you. But the more I let you in, the more I am close to giving in. I will not divulge my desires at the risk of everyone that is counting on me, especially you.”

You can see his torment, and all you want is to comfort him. You want to kiss him so bad. You want to pull him by his shirt and never let him go. You understand his love for you, but you want him to understand that you would go to end with him, no matter what. 

Your hands go to his wrists, keeping his hands in place. “Have you considered that you coming back here and me being here with you was meant to happen? What if me being here helping you all saves me? What if it extends our lifetime together?”

He doesn’t say anything, but the way he is looking at you makes you weep. His lip quivers, his eyes start to shine, and his jaw is clenching hard enough to break teeth. Your hands slither up his arms to his shoulders. You feel magnetized, your face inching closer to his to see if he will have a change of heart. You are close enough to feel his breath shutter against your lips, and your heart is beating so fast you are sure he can hear it. You feel slight contact, a ghost of a kiss before full impact, but it never comes.

“Logan!” Charles yells from upstairs. “We are getting ready to go.”

Logan is quick to pull away, sending a wave of hurt towards you. He breathes out a stuttered breath before yelling a response and heading upstairs, but before he goes up he turns his head towards you. “There is money on Charles's desk. Please leave while you have the chance.”

He goes upstairs not looking back and you watch as he disappears from your view. You stand there for a while, deep in thought as you weigh your options, but you knew what you were going to do. Even though Logan was afraid, and rightfully so, you had a gut feeling everything would turn itself around.

So, with heavy steps, you walk up the stairs and down the hall, picking the second to last room on the right. It is barren aside from a bed and a dresser, and seeing the bed made you realize how exhausted the day's events have made you. You shut the door, and flop onto the bed, letting sleep take over and dreams manifest.

Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters; Westchester, NY; Four Hours Later

20 Text Messages.

10 Missed Calls.

3 Voice Messages.

Voice Message 1: Hey baby, just calling you to tell you goodnight. Don’t worry about waking me when you get home. I wanna see you as soon as you get in. Get back safely. I love you.

Voice Message 2: Logan, something is wrong. There are a bunch aircrafts above the mansion. Not sure what is happening. Myself and the others are getting the kids together. I’d rather be safe than sorry. Please be cautious when you get home. I love you.

Voice Message 3: Logan. Logan! Whatever you do, please do not come to the mansion! It’s under attack! Those Sentinels are here and- oh God Logan it’s a slaughter. Please do not come! I’ll find you once I’m safe. I love you!

Logan is running like hell to the mansion, and he can see them. They swarm the building like flies, crawling along the brick. There are fires, giant gaping holes in the wall, and bodies… so many bodies.

He gets in, staying close to the wall as he listens. He can hear the Sentinel bodies grind and creak as they move, hunting down any mutant that hasn’t been vanquished. He sniffs deeply, trying to find you in the building. He hopes you made it out already, but that hope is lost when he gets a strong whiff of you and blood.

So much blood.

He enters the foyer, and dead center he sees your body, a hole pierced into your stomach. He sees your mouth open, trying to breath but your chest stammers as it goes down. 

No. No, no, no!

He is at your side, pulling you into his arms. He cradles your head, his hand going to the hand holding your wound. Your eyes are slitted, a dazed look looking right back at him. It’s haunting how dull you are starting to look, and every second adds to his panic.

“Baby, I’m here. I’m here.”

Your free hand, the one not stained in your own blood, clutches onto his shirt. You pulled on it so lightly, strength slowly fading away. 

“I told you not to come,” you whimpered. “It’s not safe here.”

“I wasn’t about to leave you here to deal with this alone. We gotta get you out of here.”

“No, you do.” 

“Don’t say that,” he said sternly. “You are coming with me.”

He lets go to take his belt and shirt off. Balling up the shirt, he moves your hand to put the fabric against your stomach. 

“Fuck!” You screamed.

“I’m so sorry, baby. Bear with me, please.”

He is crying, holding his sobs in as tears break over the dam. He takes his belt and wraps it around your torso, keeping the pressure so more blood doesn’t come out. There is already so much around you. 

“I’m gonna lift you up, okay?” 

He wraps your arms around his neck, getting a grip under your legs and your back before lifting you up. 

“I got you. I got you.”

He starts walking back from where he came, but he wasn’t so lucky this time. He sees them on the ground, making their way up from where he entered. He turns quickly, thinking the only other way out is through the tunnels.

He hits the secret door, and just as it opens he hears one coming their way. He shoves you both through, getting it shut before he starts making his way down. He is making multiple turns, his mind spinning in a haze as he goes to find the exit. He feels your breathing slow, and for the first time in a long time he is scared. You are everything. Without you, he is nothing.

He makes one final turn, the exit at the end, but he halts in his spot. All he sees is carnage. There is blood on the walls, bodies of students, and marks from where their gifts were used. The exit door had been beaten down, the walls cracked and gone along with it. 

“Good God…” He shouldn’t have come down here.

He turns to go back, but from the shadows comes one of them. It blends in with the concrete, and makes itself known once it’s in reach. Its arm shifts into something sharp, and once formed it draws down to where he stands, but just as quickly he dodges with you in his arms.

“We’re not dying today, bub.”

He starts to run like hell towards the exit, only to see another one pop up at the opening. He takes a sharp turn, getting the runaround to make it back to the entrance. It’s a maze of turns, feeling like it’ll take an eternity to get to safety, but with one final turn he has it.

And then he doesn’t.

Rubble had fallen from the flooring above and made its way down creating a massive blockage. It’s a fucking dead end.

The two Sentinels approach, both opening their mouths to burn you two alive. He crouches down with his back facing them, preparing to take anything they give him. He will suffer. Good God, he will suffer. But if he can fake them out enough to leave, you will be safe. That’s all that matters.

But the pain never comes. 

“Logan.”

He looks down to see you holding your arms out, and his eyes widen when he realizes you are using your powers. He turns to see the Sentinels, but they are still moving. Just incredibly slow.

“Logan, you need to leave.”

He turns back to you, and sees your body shaking. The work he had put into keeping the blood from spilling was fatal. You were hemorrhaging. 

“I’m not leaving you here. I won’t do it.”

You let out a pitiful cry, your tears streaming down your cheeks. He can see his too as they mix with yours.

“There is no saving me. Let me save you, please.”

“Baby, I-“

“Do not let me die in vain, Logan. They need you.”

“But I need you!”

“I know, and I’m sorry I can’t give you what you need. It’s selfish, I know.”

“You’re damn right it is.”

“But please, let me be selfish. Let me save you.”

He can start to feel the heat, the Sentinels mouths setting wide enough to set this tunnel ablaze. Everything is telling him to stay, but the way you are looking at him breaks him and it makes him cave.

He can never say no to you.

“Go. Find the others. Make sure they are safe. God, please make sure they are safe.”

“I love you, sweetheart,” Logan chokes, holding you just a little tighter. “I’m so sorry.”

“I am too.”

He kisses you. It’s soft yet full of sorrow. It’s a kiss of death, he knows it. 

“I’ll see you in the next life.”

You smiled at that. It’ll be the last smile he sees from you. “Go quickly. I can’t hold on much longer, Logan.”

He lets go, gently setting you down, before he runs past the Sentinels and makes his way back to the exit. The second he was out of sight, he heard it. The roar of the flames, the mechanical sounds from their armor, and your screams.

All he can hear is your screaming.

Your screams.

You are fucking screaming.

Logan shoots up from the bed, a yell cutting off from his lips as he enters consciousness. He is breathing rapidly, swallowing nonexistent spit as he works to pull himself together. His claws were all the way out, a common side effect of his trauma response. He feels how cool the air is in the room due to the sweat that coated his body. 

He didn’t think he could dream in this current state. He hasn’t had that dream in a while, even though he wishes it was simply that. He used to have it so often, a constant reminder that he failed you and let you suffer just so he could get away. Having to relive the worst day of his life over and over is his own form of hell.

He hears a knock at the door, startling him from his state of being. 

“Logan?” 

He freezes up, knowing that voice from anywhere. He really doesn’t want you in here, not with him like this. Not with him feeling so exposed. 

“I’m fine!” He calls out, hoping you would take the hint, but he knows better.

He watches the door open and you appear. You are still in your beat up clothes, leather jacket and dirty shoes forgotten. Nothing has changed, but you look even more beautiful than you have since he’s gotten here. Maybe it’s because his senses are heightened. Maybe it’s the way the floodlights from outside shine on you in contrast with the dark room. Simply, maybe it is just you.

“I thought I told you to leave.” He says, trying to sound annoyed, but failing miserably.

“Yeah, and I told you I wasn’t going to let grown men tell me what to do.” You responded, shutting the door behind you. 

“Hmph,” he groused, looking down at his hands as his claws sink back into his flesh.

He hears you get closer, feet pattering against the wooden floors. “I could hear you in your sleep. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” But am I really? “Just a nightmare.”

He looks out the window, the night in full effect. The bed dips, and he looks to see you sitting down at the end. He sees it in your face that you don’t believe him, which isn’t surprising. You’ve always been able to read him no matter the circumstances. 

“Did you want to talk about it?”

“No,” he says quickly. He doesn’t want to relive it twice in one night.

“Okay, okay,” you say calmly. “Tell me what I can do for you.”

Please stay, so I know this is real. 

That’s what he wants to say, but he feels like he will choke. His silence is deafening, so much so he sees your face twist in reaction. 

“If you want to be alone, I understand.” You got up from the bed. “Goodnight, Logan.”

There was a time when he didn’t need to be strong or to carry the weight of others. With you as his anchor, he could be exposed. He has had to be strong for so long in recent years, but with you right here in front of him, he feels himself caving. So many emotions are rushing to his head, a battle between the Devil and God raging. He knows it’s wrong to interfere with the past, especially when there are consequences, but after tonight his sanity is slipping. Before he knows it, his hand grabs your arm to keep you from taking another step.

“Stay,” he whispers, a hint of a crack that is only noticed by him. “Please.”

“Okay,” you say with ease. “Where do you want me?”

The angel on his shoulder is telling him to not give in, yet the little, conniving demon on the other side is telling him what he wants to hear. He wants you close; needs you close.

“Will you let me hold you?” 

He thought there may be some hesitation, but there is none. You walk back over to the bed, and he lays back as you climb onto it. His arm is out to invite you in, and you situate yourself to him. Your left arm is cradled into your chest and your right curls so your hand is where his heart is. Your head settles where his right arm and shoulder connect.

“Is this okay?” 

It’s more than okay. “Yes, thank you.”

You both lay there for a while, and he lets his senses completely take over. The first thing he senses is your smell. There is something so sugary sweet about your scent. He equates it closely to something he’d smell in a candy shop with housemade confections. It’s intoxicating, and makes him hungry. 

You fit into his arms just right. The skin from your cheek laying on his exposed shoulder brings a comfort he hasn’t had in so long. It made him realize how touch-starved he’s been. He hasn’t touched another woman since your passing, and the thought of doing so makes his stomach turn. He only wants to feel you against him, in every sense of the word. 

The most shocking thing for him is to hear how calm you sound. Your breathing is deep and slow. Your heartbeat is sounding its soothing rhythm under your ribcage. It’s the opposite of how his heart was reacting; hard and fast pumps of blood rushing. He feels your hand rubbing circles over his heart, and he wonders if you can tell how much you are affecting him. 

“Tell me something about me from the future.”

Logan looks down at you, and you look so peaceful as you lay with him. Does he do this to you?

“What do you want to know?” 

“Anything. Something good.”

There are so many good things about you. It’s hard to divulge into just one thing, but even then he knows where to start.

“You teach music at the school.”

You perked your head up at this. “I teach?”

“Mhmm,” he hums, smiling to himself. “You do a lot of the extracurricular activities for the younger ones, but music is one you do a lot of. You’re really good with kids.”

You move your body, hands on top of one another on his chest. Your head lays on them, looking at him with a smile that makes his heart beat faster. 

“Sounds like I’ve become a lot more patient in the future.”

“Trust me,” Logan chuckles. “You are still quite stubborn, but you are different with them.”

Logan loved seeing you with the kids. He remembers how nervous you were to teach the younger students, but he knew you would do well. Seeing how you interacted with them during class, how you encouraged them and gave them the will to work hard. So many of the kids came from families who despised who they were. You became a mother-figure to a lot of them.

He thinks about the time he woke up to kids laughing and looked out the window to see you running around with them. You were carrying on with them, laughing with them, looking at them with care and love. It was the moment he realized he would love to start a family with you. Watch you grow with his child, see you love them like you love the kids at school. It makes his heart twist.

“Did they like me?”

“Oh, sweetheart. They loved you.” Loved. God, you were so loved by them.

“Can I ask something?” You ask.

“Anything.” He can feel himself getting lost in you, his hand subconsciously caressing your hair. 

“What I did in Paris,” you start. “You seemed genuinely confused when I explained what I did earlier. Was that something I couldn’t do in the future?”

When you told him you brought his memories to the forefront of his mind, shifting time in his brain, he was shocked. Your mutation is special, and the control you had over it is simply astounding. He isn’t surprised that your powers can do more than what was discovered originally, but it now begged the question: what triggered it and why now?

“No,” Logan says with the shake of his head. “What do you think caused it?”

“Logan, I think you did.” He hears you hesitate.

“What do you mean?”

He watches as you sit up, crossing your legs. Your hands grab his right hand, thumbs pushing into his skin right where his mutated bones come out. It is strange how different you are acting in comparison to the last few days. You are acting like the you he gets to know later, the edge in your attitude completely gone. Maybe this is who you are or maybe… you are only this way with him.

“So, the day we met, earlier that day, I saw you come out of the Algonquin.”

He sits up at this, heart picking up more. “You were there?”

“I pulled over because I started to get a terrible migraine. It was so bad I thought I was having a stroke or something, but then it stopped like it was never there. Next thing I know, I see you and I can't look away. I felt like I knew you and I didn’t know why.”

“Has it happened more than once? The migraines?” Logan is pulled into your direction, back hunching slightly to get closer even when he doesn’t realize it.

“It happened again at Max’s when you introduced yourself.”

His eyes widen, the pieces coming together. “That’s why you looked like you were in pain.” 

“I chalked it up to having drank too much,” you huffed out a laugh. “It didn’t make sense at the time, but after Paris I can’t shake the feeling.”

“So what are you saying? That I opened your mind?” 

“If I didn’t have access to this part of my mutation from the future you are from, what if that means this was all meant to happen?” You brought his hand to your chest where your heart lies and he can feel directly where your heart beats.

Where it beats for him.

“I wasn’t even the one meant to come here,” Logan says in denial. “It was supposed to be Charles.”

“But what if it wasn’t?” You grip his hand harder, pushing it further against you. “What if you were meant to find me to make things right? To save everyone. To save us. Maybe this is fate trying to tell you something.”

He is becoming weak. Your words are so honest and it is taking nothing to believe you. Maybe you are right, maybe you are wrong. You haven’t seen the bloodbath the future becomes, but maybe you don’t need to have seen to know. Your words, your reasoning; both make his resolve crack and there isn’t much left. Having you here in front of him, being so reassuring and confident, he isn’t going to last. 

“What are you thinking right now, Logan?” You ask gently, and if he is seeing things correctly, he sees how much you want him to give in. And that’s all he needs.

“I’m thinking about how much I want to kiss you right now.”

His hand on your chest is pulled lower, down to your left breast where you curl your fingers over his to squeeze the flesh. “Then do it.”

To say the dam has broken would be an understatement. The dam has vaporized, mass flooding reaching the heavens. Those three words were enough for him to snatch you into his arms, pull you on top of him, and get his lips onto yours. He has your thighs on either side of his own, holding you so close that your crotch is pressed tightly against his. Your hands are holding onto his shoulders with nails digging into his skin, and fuck he loves it.

His hands are all over you; going from your hips to your ass to the small of your back to your head. He wants to touch every part of you and memorize every inch of your skin. His fingers bundle up the bottom of your top, pushing it up with his fingertips to let his palms glide along your waist. You gasped against his lips, giving him the opportunity to let his tongue fondle yours. 

He unclasps your bra as his hands reach the middle of your back, giving him the chance to take both items of clothing off your body. He pulls away from you, back leaning against the headboard as he takes you in. Your body is just as he remembered it, and he could weep at how stunning you are.

“Do I look okay?” There is a hint of uncertainty in your voice, and it sends his hands to gently bring your face down to him.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on.” His eyes bore into yours as he tells you, needing you to know how much he means it. 

Before he can say anything else, your lips are back on his. He lets you take the lead, your tongue leading him in a dance. It gives him the opportunity to focus his hands on your breasts. You whimper against his mouth and he feels you push your chest into his palms as he massages them, which causes a little smirk to form at the corner of his mouth. You had always loved when he played with them as it turned you on like nothing else. 

“Good to know your tits have always been so sensitive,” he murmurs against your lips, thumb and pointer fingers going to pinch the puckered buds.

A high-pitched moan is pulled from you, your hips involuntary grinding against him in response. Your lips let go of his, and they end up going to his cheek. “I guess you know how to get me going, don’t you?”

“Oh baby, I know your body like the back of my hand,” he hums with a rumble. He can play your body like an instrument, the song being your sweet noises. He is going to show you just how well he makes you sing.

He is quick to flip you over, removing his white wife pleaser in the process before his hands go to your jeans. He yanks them down with your panties and you help kick them off before he tosses them aside. He goes to take his own off, stripping everything away until he is as naked as you are. 

He crawls up to you, moving your thighs over his hips. His hands reach under your back and he pulls you into his lap. Your legs wrapped around him, and he groans as your wet cunt sits against his cock. His left arm stays wrapped around you, and his right hand holds the back of your head with fingers at the roots of your hair. Your hips start grinding up onto his erection, mewls so sweet that he can’t help but consume them.

He pulls your head to the side by your hair gently, tugging just enough to get a reaction from you. Your eyes flutter, and he hums as he lets his lips ghost over your ear. 

“I have every little spot of yours memorized,” he kisses behind your ear, his tongue peeking out for a little lick before kissing in the same spot. “Even if you think you know what they are, just know I know all of them.”

“Fuck, Logan,” you say with a shiver, making your body press further into the heat he is projecting. 

“Mmm that’s right.” His lips go down to the underside of your jaw where your pulse is, kissing it gingerly to prepare you for his next act. “Keep that up.”

He bites down slowly on the crevice, letting his teeth sink in far enough to leave his mark. Your hands are on his head, cooing softly at the distinct pressure. He releases, licking the indents he left in your skin to soothe the ache. 

“You sound so pretty, baby,” he murmurs. “Let me see if you know this one.”

His mouth trails down, sucking marks into your skin until he gets down to your sternum. His back hunches down, leaning you back to get the angle just right. He sets his tongue to work, letting the tip trail a stripe up until he reaches the notch between your collarbones. A little gasp followed by a hushed curse falls from your lips. The sensation causes you to squirm in his lap and it makes his dick twitch against your folds. Logan isn’t a patient man in most regards, but he could spend an eternity exploring your body. Your reactions fuel him and they send blood right down to his cock. 

“Didn’t know about that spot, did you?” 

“No, ah!” Logan pulls another gasp from you as he nibbles around the edges. “Getting me addicted to you early, aren’t you?”

“That’s right, angel.” Logan can’t help himself, thrusting his hips up a little to let his length rub into your pussy; so wet and so good. “I’ll have you yearning for me for decades to come.”

As he proceeds the motion of his hips, tightening his hold on you, he allows his right hand to come up to your left breast. With his tongue and cock being a distraction, he pulls at your taut nipple at the same time his teeth bite down on your collarbone. You cry out his name, his hair being fisted and pulled. He can’t help the wanton moan that spills out, riling him up to no end. 

Your breast feels so at home in his hand, but looking at how pretty your nipples look, flushed from his treatment, he gets a craving. His tongue makes a path down, making its way to the left and up until it slithers to your erected bud. His mouth latches, encircling the peak as he sucks earnestly. He continues rutting into you, feeling his and your fluids coating his appendage. 

Logan feels himself becoming drunk. With you in his arms reciprocating his intentions, it’s like he is weightless. Something deep in his scarred heart is healing. Years of trauma from seeing and experiencing the unthinkable transform into the better things in life. He thinks of the future he could have with you. A future where you take his last name. A future where you two live in a little home decorated however you choose. A future with your belly big with his kid, where he can kiss your stomach every morning and every night. A future where you and him raise a child. He wants that. He wants that so bad. 

In his drunken haze, he feels one of your hands leave his head. Your fingertips send his nerves alight as they trail down his arm. You are tracing the veins that are bulging out, and he grunts as they go over to his chest. He has switched to your other breast, and as he starts, he feels your palm against his cock. You are pushing it more into your cunt, thumb running over his fat tip as you rub it. 

“Fuck,” he curses with a pop. “You are such a greedy girl.”

“What can I say?” You jest. “I know what I want.”

“And what would that be, sugar?” He thrusts against you, cockhead rubbing up and down your clit. 

You smiled at him, and your other hand goes from his head to his jaw. Fingers slightly scratching his beard with your thumb on his bottom lip, you lean back into him with knees shifting. They are on either side of him now and his tip is being lined up against your hole. Your eyes seek out his, and he can’t look away as he admires you. You are beautiful, an angel sent down for him. Every version of you is perfect, and for every version of you he will sacrifice everything.

“I want you to make love to me,” you say with a shuttered breath. “Show me how you love me. Show me what I have to look forward to.”

Logan’s tip is enveloped by your heat by the time you finish, and your words were the full confirmation he needed to seat you fully onto his shaft. 

It’s like gasping for air with how intense his reunion with you feels. You fit perfectly around him. It’s almost too good to be true. Part of him is wondering if he is still dreaming, but with how warm and snug you are, it has to be real. This has to be happening.

You lift your hips until all that’s connected is the head before dropping back down. His cock glides right in and he grunts as you work yourself on him. He guides your movements with his hands, both on your plush ass and giving a squeeze with every bounce. Your arms have since wrapped around his neck, head hiding in his neck. Your hot breath fans across his skin, your teeth nipping at him every time he fills you up. 

He loves how you are taking what you need, letting you keep the pace to get used to his size. Normally during an intimacy session, he would prepare you more thoroughly. He’d pleasure you with his mouth, letting his spit coated tongue lubricate your pretty pussy. He’d finger you open, getting you nice and relaxed for his heavy cock. He would add another when your little noises got rowdier, a tell-tale sign that you needed more. He did everything to ensure you were ready for him, the enjoyment of your pleasure and taste a perk in the endeavor. With how you are riding him, however, it feels like you are preparing him. Taking it slow, letting him savor you, letting him know that this is real and you are his. 

“You feel incredible, Lo,” you whimper into his neck. He just about mimics you after hearing you call him by that little nickname.

“I can say the same to you, pretty girl.” He lifts your head by your hair, putting your forehead to his as he rocks up into you. “Taking my cock so well. You were made for me. Ain’t that right?”

“Mhmm,” you hum. “I’ll always be yours. In every lifetime, I am yours and you are mine.”

He chokes out a laugh, completely overwhelmed with emotion. He kisses your swollen lips with ease, his tongue flicking out to savor your taste. Every moan that comes out is captured by his mouth, swallowing the sweet sounds desperately. He notices your hips start to slow, and your whining gets more consistent. He knew you were tiring, but that was okay. He has enough energy and greed to take over. You make him greedy, and he needs more.

“Did you want me to take over, baby?”

“Please,” you mumble against his lips. “Take me.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He shifts himself, keeping you two connected as he gets you onto your back. He situates you so your legs are wrapped around his torso, legs pushed down so your thighs are almost to your chest. The angle he has you in gives him the chance to push in just a little more, his tip putting pressure onto your cervix. 

“Oh God, you are so deep,” you mewl, clenching down on his cock causing him to groan at the grip.

“That’s right, baby. Damn you look so beautiful like this.” 

“Yeah? I look beautiful with your big cock in my pretty pussy?”

“Fuck, you got a mouth on you.” Logan thrusts shallowly in response, a whine ripping out from your throat. “But to answer your question, you look beautiful no matter what.”

He starts thrusting long, deep strokes into you. He lets one hand stick to your hip, and the other has a gentle grip on your jaw to keep your head in place. His thumb traces your bottom lip, and in an instant your tongue latches to it. It draws it in, getting it so your lips close around it and suck on it as your tongue lathers it. Your eyes shut, and you hum happily like you are savoring the musk from his skin. It enraptured him, making him pick up the pace, hips starting to slam against you. 

He’s on the cusp of his release. He doesn’t want this end, not by a long shot. But tonight will become tomorrow. A new day will start where the stresses of his mission will come to light. All he can do is savor this last little bit of happiness and hope sometime soon he will wake up with you by his side.

“Lo, I’m close,” you grunt out.

He takes his soaked thumb, bringing it down to your bundle of nerves. “I’ll get you there, baby. Cum whenever you are ready.”

He swirls your clit at an easy pace, a contrast to how he is slamming into you. He is battering into your pussy, hitting that spot he knows all too well. Your moans grow louder, more accustomed to his hard hitting movements. The sounds of wet slapping with moaning and grunting fill the room, and with the slightest bit of added pressure to your clit he gets you there; right where he wants you.

Your back is arching off the bed, nails finding purchase on his thighs. Your moans are breathless, the wind knocked out as he continues the fast pace of his hips. He looks down where the two of you are connected, watching the white fluid flow down between your ass and drip onto the bed. He can smell it and something snaps in his brain where he wants more. 

He can tell you are coming down from your high, but he isn’t having any of that. His length stills, fully seated in you, and starts rutting the tip against your g-spot. 

“Fuck, it’s too much,” you cry out. “Logan, please!”

“I got you, pretty girl. Just need you to cum on my cock one more time.” 

You nod, and he pushes his hips harder, and it isn’t long before you are wailing with another release. This sets him off again, and he pulls almost fully out before pistoning his cock in and out rapidly as he prolongs your orgasm. You are wailing his name, and he can see tears falling down the sides of your eyes from how good he was making you feel. He is on top of a hill about to roll down, and before he releases, he pulls out. 

Your legs try to shut, but his thighs prevent it. He takes two fingers and sticks them into your cunt to continue riding your release out. His other hand fists his cock over your stomach, and with a growl he is cumming in ropes. White paints your tummy until it’s pooling down into your belly button, drenching the skin and making it sheer. He is breathing heavy, orgasmic bliss fading into something more peaceful. He sees you are on the same boat, chest going up and down. It isn’t until he hears a sob crash out from your lips and more tears forming that he snaps out of his daze.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” He is urgent as he gets off the bed, getting closer to you from the side of the bed. His hands are immediately on your face, thumbs wiping away the new droplets trailing down. 

“I’m sorry,” you choke, staggered breaths coming from you with a mixture of sobs in between. “I’m okay. It was just a lot.”

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I got carried away.” He goes to kiss the apples of your cheeks where the tears have stained, before standing up fully. “Let me get you cleaned, okay?”

He turns to go get a towel from the bathroom when he feels your hand wrap around his wrist, stopping him completely. 

“It was a lot, but in a good way.”

He goes to kneel on the ground beside the bed, hands going to yours to kiss your knuckles. “Are you sure you are okay? I wouldn’t dream of hurting you,” he murmurs into your skin. 

“Logan, I have never experienced pleasure like that before,” you say hiccuping, causing a laugh to bubble out after. “I never thought I could experience something like that with someone ever.”

It dawns on him that this is technically your first time with him, meaning once the future sets to the right course, this moment will become the first time he made love to you. His mind goes back to the very first time, both coming back from a night out with a need so deep that it was said and done too quickly. This time, he got to cherish you. He got to make your first time with him feel special and adored. It is surreal, and it is everything. 

“Why are you crying?” He hears you whisper, a hand escaping his grip to wipe away his own tears.

He didn’t even realize it, but he didn’t care. He didn’t hide it. He lets you wipe them away, mirroring how he tended to yours. “I’m happy. Happier than I have been in a long time.”

He brings his head down to kiss your lips, a light peck that leads to a few more on your face. A giggle leaves your lips, and he swears his face grew more wet. 

He looks to see the cum starting to dry on your skin, and he places one more kiss before standing up. “Let me get you cleaned up, and we can rest for a while.”

He rushes to the bathroom, steps heavy, and emerges with a warm, wet towel. He sits on the edge of the bed, taking the fabric to your heat to clean the fluids lingering. He is gentle, not wanting to rub the towel anywhere that’s still sensitive to the touch. He kisses your knees and the inside of your thighs, the fabric now on your tummy as he wipes you clean. Your skin is cleared of any fluids, and with one last kiss to your flesh he pulls away. 

He tosses the towel into the sink before going to the other side of the bed, pulling the sheet and comforter back to get under. He reaches over to you, pulling you into him as he adjusts the blanket from under you. He settles with you on his chest, just like you were earlier, with the bedding now over your forms. You snuggle up to him, your fingers twirling around the hair on his chest. His fingers brush through your hair, admiring the afterglow you are giving, and thinking about how lucky he is right now.

You are his baby. His life. His soul. He was miserable without you, but he didn’t realize how bad off he was until now. Having you back in his arms, even for a moment, made his soul come to life. It had been rendered useless when it was severed, and now his sense of purpose is strong. The love he is feeling in this room wraps around him snuggly, and he doesn’t want to leave its embrace. 

Your left hand pokes out from in between your bodies, and his free hand goes to twiddle with the fingers. He thinks about how big his hands are compared to yours. His whole fist could cover the entirety of your hand, yet your hands are on the rougher side like his. There are some calluses from what he assumes is drumming. They form along the top of your palm where your fingers connect. He stops where your ring finger lies, and he subconsciously sighs.

He remembers how Storm had helped him find a ring for you. You had said how you would love anything he chose because it was from him. However, he wanted it to be a ring that made a statement for his love. He wanted a ring where every time you looked at it, you would know how much he adored you. 

He thinks about how back in the future, it is still around his neck like a virtue. It makes him wonder if in the near distant future, when things become sane and good, if he will still have that ring. Will he, who may become a different man after he returns, have the guts to propose to you? He regrets so much, but that is something he regrets greatly. Not proposing before the world fell apart. Not proposing to let you know that he is ready to take the next step, and to let you know he is committed to you even past the point of death. Death do us part doesn’t apply to you or him. 

“What’s on your mind?”

He looks down to see you looking up at him, a smile forming on his lips as he takes you in. “Just thinking about how I could go for a cigar right now.”

You smacked his chest, making him grunt out a chuckle. “I’m guessing that’s a common occurrence after these kinds of things.”

“That or we go for round two,” he smirks, laughing as you smack his chest again.

“Horndog,” you mumble into his side. 

“A horndog for you, baby.” He goes to kiss you again but then he hears rapid knocking on their door.

“Are you two decent?” Hank asks loudly from behind the door. “This is urgent!”

“Just come in, Hank.” Logan pulls the covers further up on you, a slight possessiveness taking over as Hank comes in. Your body is for his eyes only. 

He thought Hank may feel a little embarrassed seeing the two of you like this, but there is none of that. Hank marched over; any social cues forgotten as he sat on the edge of the bed. 

“Listen, bub, what could possibly be so urgent that you are sitting on the bed I just fucked my girl silly on?”

“Logan!” You scowl.

Hank rolls his eyes. “Raven is going to Washington. Trask is going to be at the White House tomorrow, and she plans to strike. We need to leave tonight.”

“What is happening at the White House?” Logan asked, sitting up on his elbows.

Hank shakes his head in a way that tells Logan it isn’t for anything good. “They are presenting the Sentinel Program tomorrow.”

“Oh God,” you mutter. “Trask is already that far along? Does that mean they could be unleashed sooner?”

Logan shutters at the thought. The idea of the Sentinels starting their massacre whole decades earlier makes him uneasy. It scares him. He wonders if this means things are now going to be worse than they already were, which is hard to imagine. He doesn’t want to imagine it. 

He wishes he had more time. He doesn’t know when he will get to be like this with you again. It could feel like a matter of seconds, minutes, hours, days. He could wake up to a world where you and him don’t coincide. But at the end of the day, he needs to pull through for you and everyone else. His main priority is that he wakes up to a world where everyone is alive.

This is his last chance.

“Alright, we’ll get up and get stuff together.” Logan says, and with that Hank gets up with a nod.

As he makes his exit, Logan starts to get up, but not before he feels your arms wrapping around his torso trying to pull him back.

“Sweetheart, we need to get up,” Logan says softly, not wanting to disturb the peace in this room. Not wanting to unveil their reality.

“Just a few more minutes,” you wager. “I’ll freeze time if that means I can stay like this for a few more minutes.”

He can’t deny you. God, he can’t. He lays back down to his original state, and before he can help himself the words are out in the open.

“I love you.”

You didn’t respond, and that’s okay. He already knows you love him too.

The White House; Washington D.C.

“Yes, I am with the marine band.”

“You are late, Sergeant. Get into position with the others.”

“Yes sir!”

You move past the metal detectors, jogging towards the rest of the marine band members. There was an empty spot where the snare lies and you get into position, harness going over your shoulders. You fall into play, Stars and Stripes Forever sounding throughout the set up.

It’s perfect really. You are in the best position to see everything. You will be able to see Trask, the President, and other high ranking officials. If things fall into complete disarray, you will shift the time backward and have a complete do over. In the meantime, the guys will look for Raven before she can strike.

It was a string of luck thanks to Charles’s willingness to use his powers again. Hank had told you he had a change of heart, and while you had no proof of what convinced him, you had a feeling it had to do with the man who completely bared his soul to you last night.

Just the thought makes you blush. You aren’t one to let someone you barely know in your bed, giving yourself to them completely. You’ve been there, done that, and it never stuck or felt right. With Logan, it felt different. There is a bond between you both that’s inexplicably there. You have felt it from the start, and it was only confirmed after last night. The way he took care of you, made love to you; you could feel the love he felt for you and while scary to admit, you love him too.

He looks at you like you are the center of his universe. He looks at you like living isn’t worth shit unless you are by his side. It pains you but only because whatever happened in his future has scarred him deep. You could feel it in the way he kissed you, and left marks on your body. He was trying to convince himself that he wasn’t dreaming; that you were there. 

You don’t know what will happen after today, but what you do know is you will find him. You will find him, learn every detail about him until he is like a second skin, and love him like he deserves. You will make sure of it.

You look towards the metal detectors and see them passing through. You see Logan look in your direction, a smile shining towards you that you mirror right back. He looks you up and down, sending a wink your way before turning back to Charles and once again your face feels hot. His effect on you is absolutely outstanding. 

You can see Charles scanning the crowd, undoubtedly looking for Raven amongst the thousands of people. You keep your eyes on him, reading his expressions as he continues lurking. You aren’t sure what time it is but it’s only a matter of time before President Nixon makes his speech. Even then, that doesn’t mean Raven won’t strike before that.

“I haven’t found Raven yet. Be prepared.”

You felt Charles rattling in your brain. You look in his direction to see everyone looking towards you and you nod to signal the message was clear.

The conductor cuts off the song, signaling the event is about to start. You focus your attention to the stage, looking for any kind of sign of Raven. Everything seems pristine, Secret Service covered at every point. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” You hear someone speak through the microphone on the podium. Your attention goes to the man, someone from Nixon’s advisory team surely, standing before everyone. “It is my utmost pleasure to welcome Mr. President Nixon!”

You see the conductor wave his baton, signaling to start playing, and quickly you are rolling your sticks once the first beat drops. You watch, trying to look in your peripherals for anything weird, before you hear a gunshot.

Your eyes snap to the stage, and you see Trask lying there with a bullet to his head. People are losing their minds, standing erratically to get away from whoever the shooter was. You drop your drumsticks, quickly snapping your fingers to stop the commotion. Everything freezes, and you take the opportunity to walk away from your post. You make observations, needing to be quick, and it doesn’t take long for you to see Raven. Or at least make the assumption that it’s her.

You see she transformed into a man from the Secret Service. The gun has since been lowered and you can see two other Secret Service officials running to tackle. You walk to look at the man’s face, and it makes your lips purse slightly.

She is smiling. There is genuine joy in what she just did. Before time froze over, it was obvious she saw the other men coming to take her down, but she didn’t care. You see it in her face: she won. It didn’t matter what happened afterwards. She saved her kind, your kind. 

Except she didn’t, and that’s what kills you as you look at her. Her actions kill so many, and leave so many people without their loved ones. Your future livelihood is dismantled by the Sentinels, so deep down you understand Raven’s hatred for Trask. You hate him too, but you believe all will come to the light. Trask will get his due diligence, and hopefully it’s something worse than death.

Humiliation. Defunding his work. Life behind bars. For a man like him, death would be too easy.

You pass her, heading towards the rest of the group. You get to Logan’s side, and release a breath you didn’t know you needed to release. You lift your arms up and move them down slowly. As they descend, time rolls back like it’s a moveable force. People that swarmed like ants are back in their seats, high security are back at their stations, the President makes his way back behind the stage, and Trask is back on his feet. Your hands clenched tight, holding everything in place before releasing and things continue on completely reset.

You lean down to Charles, making sure he hears you clearly. “She’s right there to the left of the stage. Act fast.”

Charles looks in that direction, focusing with an urgency as he sets his sights on Raven. You watch the scene unfold again, and see how Raven goes to pull the gun from her jacket but she halts. You see her grow stiff, and her lips move like she is talking to someone. 

“I’ve got her,” Charles says with relief. “I can only hold her for so long.”

“You two go get her,” Hank says as he gets behind Charles. “He is right. Charles is still not as strong as he was before. You both need to be quick.”

You nod and the two of you start trekking over to where Raven is. The President is talking, but it’s muddled as you focus. The two of you walk slowly, but with urgency, not wanting to cause any alarm that would halt any progress. That didn’t matter, however, because right as you two are on her, a Secret Service agent is in front of you both.

“I’m sorry, but this is as far as you two can go.” He has his hands raised in front of him to prevent any further steps. 

“Behold! The world will never be the same again…” The National Anthem kicks in, and you turn to see the American flag drop. What you see makes your jaw drop. 

Eight large robots. They couldn’t be more than twenty feet tall. Hell, it looks like they could stomp the average person out. The sheer size of them makes you uneasy, knowing what they can and will do makes your stomach churn. 

“Is that what they look like?” You say quietly, your back now pressed against Logan’s front.

“This is just the start.” Logan's right hand grabs yours, squeezing tightly. “But we can change that.”

You squeeze back just as tight, hoping it conveys that you are with him. “Let me stop the time so you can get her.” You go to snap your fingers, but Logan squeezes your hand again as if to hold off. 

“What?”

“Do you hear that?” He yells over the cheers. “Something’s coming.”

Logan keeps looking around, and in his search is when you see something moving from the corner of your eye. You turn, and a lump starts forming in your throat.

“Good God…”

It is clockwork with how things evolved. The Sentinels, with their yellow eyes and shiny polymer, are no longer on their feet. They are in the air, carefully looking down on the crowd like they are Gods. They look so much bigger off the ground, and it unsettles you to no end. 

You see Trask and the Major talking, a look of frustration on the scientist's face. It confuses you because he is the one that has control over the giants. However, your question is answered when the sun seems to go away and only shadows linger in the shape of a ring. Rubble and debris fall from the sky, and once you look up you couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

A whole fucking stadium. Rows and rows of seats and cement foundation floating in the sky. It moves over the White House like a storm, slowly but surely coming with impending coverage. It is only as the inner circle enters your vision that you see Erik, carrying the weight of it like it was nothing.

The Sentinels rise higher, going up towards the floating anomaly as it surrounds it. You think for a second that maybe they were activated because they detected the threat. However, as you watch them reach the top, taking places like they are guarding a post with arms drawn, you know it wasn’t anyone commanding them from the ground, but from the sky. 

“Holy shit Erik…” you whisper to yourself, some disbelief edged into your voice. Erik was a powerful mutant, that you knew, but this? This was next level.

“I’m getting Raven!”

Before you can say anything, Logan is running to tackle Raven down, but it doesn't matter. The minute he is on his feet, bullets are raining from the sky in droves. 

“Logan, get back!” You yell, running to pull him back before the mass array of bullets hit him.

“I’ll be fine! I can take them!” Logan yells over the madness of crowds flocking away. “We need to get her!”

“Look around!” You grab his shoulders, shaking them. “It doesn’t matter if we get her now. We need to get Erik and we can’t if we are both down!”

You don’t wait for him to answer, dragging him to rubble that had made its way to the ground. You look around it, trying to get eyes on Charles and Hank before the ground shakes. Logan has his arms around you, covering your body with his to protect it from any kind of blow. 

It’s quiet for a moment as the dust settles. You peep out again, trying to locate the other two again. The field was a ghost town, the crowd able to escape before the stadium trapped them in. The President, Trask, and others were gone, assuming they went into some sort of hiding place that only they know about. It is only then that you realize Raven is no longer to be seen, which makes you think she went into hiding… with them.

“Oh no…” 

“What?” Logan whispers, his eyes trained elsewhere.

“I think Raven is with Trask.”

“Unfortunately, I think we have a bigger fucking problem now.” Logan curses with eyes unmoving.

You look to see where he is staring, and you see Erik walking towards the White House before stopping. His hands go out in front of him, moving them like he is scanning for something.

You feel something in your mind move, and you gasp when you hear the voice in your head. “Charles?”

“My dear, we are running out of time.” You hear Charles echo in your head. “If you or Logan can get Erik’s helmet off of him, I can stop him.”

“Okay, on it.” You turn in Logan’s hold, back now against the rubble. “We need to get the helmet off him. I will stop time while you grab it.”

“Sounds easy enough,” Logan grunts, crouching in front of you. 

“Alright, here we go.” You focus all your energy on your surroundings before snapping your fingers. Your fists are secured, and you look at Logan before nodding his way. “Go on.”

He goes to get up but stops for a second before coming back down. His lips are on yours, a long peck before releasing you. You’re stunned, not expecting such a romantic gesture. “I’ll be back for you, baby.”

He’s off, running towards Erik. You watch as he makes it up to him, carefully removing the helmet and putting it under his arm. He is on his way back, holding the helmet close as he gets back to where you stood. You both crouch back down, and you unclench your fists letting time continue its course. 

“Charles, he’s all yours,” you say with the hope he can hear you.

It’s quiet for only a moment when you hear something heavy fall to the ground. You hear a yell, one that sounded exactly like Charles, and you shoot up. You see some particles in the air to your right, steel and concrete a heap on the ground. You see brown hair, and then you see Hank, fully in his true blue form, trying to lift the heavy weight off of Charles. Panic sets in, not really sure how bad the damage is but it stirs you to stand up and release the alarming catharsis that bubbles to the surface.

“Charles!” You scream, your fight or flight response taking the former as you run towards them. You sense Logan right behind you, following your trail as you approach the mess. You almost make it, ready to stop time again but then you feel something graze your arm and then a stretch of pain that takes you out.

You fall with a grunt, holding your left arm as you curse to yourself. Blood is making its way down your arm, and you work to put pressure on it but it continues to seep through the cracks of your fingers. Shit, shit, shit!

You hear more bullets go off towards you, and your heart is in your throat as you expect to be battered, but they don’t come. They don’t come because Logan is in front of you, body jerking as he works to pick you up as wounds form from his back. 

“Holy shit, Logan!” 

“Hold on!” He seethes in pain, holding you close as he gets you both behind another pile of rubble. 

You both have your backs to the scene unfolding, but you know there isn’t much time to stay here. With haste, you unbuckle your belt, flinging it out of the jean loops and wrapping it below the bullet wound. Your teeth sink into the leather, pulling it tightly before securing it. 

You look over at Logan, who is surrounded by the pellets he pushed out from his back. He grunts as one more falls to the ground behind him, and he turns to you with an alertness you’ve become all too familiar with.

“Are you okay?” You ask stupidly, because of course he is.

He doesn’t answer at first, looking at you and then looking back at the destroyed lawn. It causes you to look too, and you can see Hank clobbering one of the Sentinels as he yanks out its wiring. But he’s outnumbered and it’s only a matter of time before they gang up on him. 

“We need to help Hank,” you say, getting ready to stand up before Logan’s hand grabs you by your jean loops.

Logan’s hands are on your face, holding it still as to keep your focus on him. There is conflict in the way he looks at you; a conflict that says you won’t agree with what he’s about to do next. You can read him so easily, and what you are reading makes you uneasy.

“No, Logan…” 

“Sweetheart, I need you to stay right here.” His eyes are saying so much more in relation, telling you why he’s asking you this. You know he has lost too much, and to lose it all before it’s even started isn’t in the cards for him. Still, you can’t help the stubbornness that begs to fight with him.

“I’m not leaving you defenseless out there.” 

“Then defend us from here,” Logan says firmly, mind unchanging. “I will not lose you here. I am not going back to a future where you don’t exist.”

It’s quiet for a second, words processing in your head. You knew he loved you, but to see it run so deep at his declaration made you want to cry. How is it a man that you haven’t known for long, can have such an effect on you? How is it that a part of him already runs so deeply inside you? It leaves you with the conclusion that if you are feeling all of this after a few days, then what he must be feeling is tenfold after a lifetime. 

Your hands go to his face, mirroring him as you two stare at each other. He’s waiting for you to accept what he is asking, eyes moving back and forth slightly like he is trying to read your response. You sigh deeply, swallowing the pill he wants you to take before you pull him down to your lips to seal your acceptance. 

He grunts in surprise, but shortly after melts against you. It’s a kiss molded into words, one that says “thank you” and in kind says “I’ll see you after this is all over”. It’s a kiss that says even when there truly is no time left, there is always time for this, for you, for him.

You pull away, eyes watering as you look at the man who will ultimately become your world and your savior in ways you can’t begin to fathom. You give him one more good look, one more stroke of your thumbs against his facial hair, before dropping your hands to surrender. 

“You come back to me safe,” you assert. “I will do as much as I can from here.”

Logan responds by kissing your lips again, placing three quick kisses in succession before standing up to run off towards the mess. You peek over from your hiding spot, and you see two of the Sentinels on the ground in its robotic guts. You hear Hank roaring to your left, seeing him fly to the ground onto his back. The Sentinel he was fighting approaches, armed and ready to fire. 

You clench your teeth as you put your arms out, the wounded one shooting signals to your brain that it aches terribly. However, you push through, focusing on the Sentinels mechanics and the timely energy around it. You watch it slowly come to a stop, and you see Hank look your way before you nod your head to tell him to get the job done.

You watch him spring into action, hands digging into the skull before ripping the head off. You let go, with the Sentinel now inactive, and turn to see Logan with his claws out digging into the chest of another one. His clawed fists go in and out over and over, the automaton down. 

You go back and forth between Hank and Logan, ensuring them the time they need to defend themselves safely. It’s a smooth rhythm, and you think things are going well, but then you see Erik appear a few feet away from Logan with metal pieces floating in the air. You go to stop Erik in his tracks, but then you hear running in your direction. 

“Run!” You hear Hank yell, and you turn to see him sprinting away from two Sentinels. 

“Shit!” You curse, and in the blink of an eye you are running with him, bullets hot on your trail.

You run with purpose, dodging whatever the Sentinels sent your way, but your attention was focused on Logan, who was cutting away at any metallic pieces Erik threw at him. It was a dance, every step forward meant a step back, and from what you were witnessing Logan was the better dancer. However, Erik has always been good at catching up.

The Sentinels are gaining ground, and you knew something had to give. They were doing what they were created for, and they wouldn’t stop now, not at this rate. You look at Hank as you both push on, and he looks back at you as he feels your eyes on him.

“We need to split off!” You yell at him. “You go towards that car over there, and I’ll go the opposite way.”

You both diverge, running away from one another in the hopes of confusing the Sentinels. You don’t hear bullets in your space anymore, but it causes you to look and see Hank surrounded. You go to stop them, but then a gasp shoots from your lungs as you feel metal wrap around your wrists. Next thing you know, you are hanging in the air.

You are thrashing, wrists bound tightly. You see Erik approaching you, and you panic but not because he is approaching you. It’s because you don’t see Logan.

Fuck, where’s Logan?

“I’m sorry, my little timelord,” Erik says with a hint of an actual apology. “This is what happens when you don’t choose a side.”

“I did what was best for me. No one else,” you grit out. You can feel blood start to trickle down your arm, the stretch opening your wound further.

“I guess you’ll see how that turns out for you.” Erik sets you onto the ground with a thud, and suddenly you feel metal coil around your neck. You start to feel the pressure against your throat, making your eyes bulge.

“No need to be scared, my dear. Just need you out of the picture for a few hours.” Your airways are getting crushed. Your hands are desperately trying to remove themselves from the makeshift cuffs, but to no avail. 

The coughing fits start, lungs eager for some relief, but they cry out when none comes. It’s strange to feel your lifespan waning, yet have your mind linger elsewhere.

Please be okay. God, please let Logan be safe.

As if your prayers were answered, you hear him in the distance. You can hear him shouting your name, and you ache at the sound. You are relieved, yet there is a sadness that sticks in your foggy brain. It almost makes you think that soul bonding is an actual force within the universe because you can tell what he is feeling. You can tell he feels like he is witnessing your death a second time. 

The bondage of metal weakens, air filling your lungs at full capacity. Your hands automatically go to your throat, rubbing the raw skin as you inhale and exhale. Your bearings are dispersed, and you work to gather all the pieces so you can see what is happening. It isn’t until you hear Logan yelling in pain, followed by grunts that rip from his gut, that you shoot up. Your eyes focus and what you see burns your chest as you let out a scream that processes faster than your mind can.

Metal rods pierce Logan’s body, curling into his legs and up his chest. They enter and exit like thread, and his facial expression is one of agony. His head turns towards you, his eyes screaming for you to look away and to run and never look back. However, your fears, your anger, your love for him is overcoming and it doesn’t take long for you to snap.

Your body screams as you move to your knees and throw your arms up, the aches telling you to stop wearing yourself further. Your power is straining, but your emotions are fueling the fire. No amount of pain will ever amount to the pain of losing Logan. 

You slam your fists to the ground, a ricochet from the impact spreading. Time stops in motion, the waves of your power spreading and catching everything in its wake. The pain increases, but you don’t care about that. You only care about Logan.

Everything is still aside from Logan’s body shakes. You run to him, falling to your knees to get closer. Your energy is depleting as you hold onto time, making your mind race to figure out what to do to help him. Your hands keep going to touch the rods, but back away every time he shudders with discomfort.

“Logan, tell me what to do,” you plead. “Tell me what I need to do to get these out.”

“Fuck…” Logan is working his jaw, seemingly trying to calm himself down. “Try pulling on one.”

You nod, placing both hands on a rod buried in his back. You counted down from three, and with a deep breath you pulled as hard as you could. The second Logan started yelling though, you let go.

“Shit! Please stop!” Logan shouts, the metal rods excruciating.

“Logan, we need to get these out of you please.” You were starting to sob; your hands running over his neck and face to try and soothe him.

“Sweetheart, please,” Logan grunts, trying not to move too much. “I promise you this won’t kill me.”

“But you are suffering,” you whisper, tears staining your face as new ones form. “I can hold this just please. You have to push them out or something.”

Something changes in Logan’s face, a sense of realization as you watch his eyes widen. A broken laugh leaves his lips, eyes glossing. “I finally understand.”

“W-what?” You stutter.

“I desperately wanted to save you, and I couldn’t. You had begged me not to, and I couldn’t fathom it.” He starts to cough, groans filling the cracks. “But I understand now. I’m sorry for not understanding before.”

“Please don’t,” you choke. “That doesn’t matter. What matters now is getting these out of you.” 

Your hands go to the rods again, but his hand grabs yours before you make contact. You are sure you look pitiful, especially as you aren’t one to beg. You guess when feelings get so strong, it doesn’t matter. Your heart is fully on your sleeve for Logan to see, and what you are showing is reflected in his pretty, glossy, hazel eyes. 

“I need you to promise me something, sweetheart,” Logan says gently. “I need you to promise me that you will find me.”

“Where? Where will I find you?” Your voice wavers, unable to keep your emotions at bay. 

“You know I can’t say, baby.” Logan’s hand squeezes yours, trying to be reassuring. “But you have before. I know you will find me again.”

You don’t know what to think of that. It could be years before you find him. Will it be right before the world goes to shit? Will it be in a decade or two from now? How can you go on living your life as normal when you don’t know when you will find him? Or how can you live knowing he isn’t right beside you?

“Don’t overthink this. Everything will be okay.”

You sniffle as you look at him, a tired smile on his face. A small laugh passes through your sobs. “Not very in character for you to be optimistic.”

“And it will be the last time you see me so optimistic for a long time,” Logan smirks. “But you can change that.”

You get on your stomach, moving so your face is level with his and kiss him one last time. It’s bittersweet, tasting him on your tongue. You hope you are conveying the answer he is looking for, one that tells him you promise to move heaven and earth for him. One that tells him you promise you are his, and no one will ever have you for as long as you both live. A promise that tells him you will find your way home to him, and you will bring him home to you.

You let go, breath wavering as you know what you are about to witness. Even with his reassurance, it will be hard to watch, and you know the tears will fall. It is inevitable.

“Baby, go find Charles. Make sure he is okay and stick with him. Once you find him, let me go.”

You nod, pecking his lips one more time before getting up to your feet. You look at him, taking in every detail that imprints your memory, making sure to never forget that the man before you is your soulmate for life.

“I love you, Logan.” You say with teary eyes. 

“I love you. I’ll see you soon.” He smiles, before closing his eyes, preparing himself.

You quickly run off, afraid that if you didn’t you wouldn’t allow yourself to. You run over to the giant terrain of rubble where Charles was, and you see him lying there frozen like everything else. You maneuver into his spot, a tight fit with enough room for you to situate yourself. You look back out onto the field, and you quiver as you see Logan lying there just waiting as he suffers in pain. You look down, eyes squeezing tight before you snap your fingers, a heavy weight off your shoulders as you suck in a deep breath.

“Oh darling, when did you get in here?”

You open your eyes to see Charles, breathing heavier than usual as he lays in discomfort. You work to prop him up, holding onto him so he can sit up right. It is at that moment you hear yelling, and you look back out to see Logan in the air with Erik holding his metallic weight. You want to look away, unable to bear the sight, but they stay glued to them. Then, you see Erik flex his fingers.

As you watch Logan fly away, your lungs urge a cry to curl out into the atmosphere, but you suppress it. After everything, you have faith in him. He gave you the faith you needed to believe everything will turn out alright. Even as you watch Erik yank the bunker up from the ground and out the White House, you have faith that the future will be safe, because you won’t let Logan down. You have a promise to keep.

Logan has become your Orion; your guiding star. He has become your alpha and your omega. He is your sole mission in this life, and he is not a mission you plan to fail.

You will set things right, and you will find him. 

Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters; Westchester, NY; Year 2023

The first time ever I saw your face…

Music. Soft, calming music enters his conscience. He’s heard this melody before in the same fashion, but that was forever ago, right? 

I thought the sun rose in your eyes…

Logan stirs, his brain doing a leap and a jump from REM sleep as it tries to wake up. He has lived this moment before, as the music says he has. Is he back to where he started? Or is it something else?

And the moon and the stars were the gifts you gave…

Where is he? The last thing he remembers was drowning. Metal pierced his body so deep he could taste it with freshwater. It should linger, but it doesn’t. He doesn’t taste anything abnormal. He’s on a bed. Did someone save him? Whose bed is this? 

To the dark and the endless skies…

His eyes open, sunlight shining brightly as they adjust. The room is familiar, and it dawns on him that it’s because it is his room. Their room. 

He turns to his side slowly, his body still adjusting to whatever the fuck it was he’s waking up to. He sees the little radio on the bedside table, the holographic globe spinning as the words “Golden Oldies” glide around it. 

And the first time ever I kissed your mouth…

Holy shit… he did it. 

Suddenly, the door opens, and nothing could have prepared him. 

“Hey, sleepyhead!”

There you were in all your glory. You were dressed for the day: a tight and long black velvet skirt with a short black sleeve shirt and black combat boots. There are little crow's feet and bunny lines by your eyes and your hair has grown out. He is starstruck, and his heart is threatening to leap out of his chest.

You walked up to him, your legs touching the bed as you looked down at him. “I know I look good. No need to let the flies in.”

Logan shuts his mouth, moving to sit up. There are so many things he wants to say, do. But nothing will come out. All he can do is stare and bumble like an idiot.

“You know it’s nine, right? You missed your first class.” 

His class?

“What?”

“Don’t worry, Lo. Your students got a little lesson from me about 70s music culture, so they weren’t totally out of a history lesson.” You say with a wink.

He doesn’t respond, eyes mesmerized as you walk over to the desk, putting away folders from what he assumes was the previous class.

“Can you believe these kids know nothing about the Ramones? Or even ELO or Fleetwood Mac? It’s blasphemous.” You shut the drawer, and go to lean back against the desk, smiling at him.

“I’ll get up, baby. Don’t you worry about me.” You say in a mock deep voice, pushing yourself off the furniture. “Last night must have really worn you out for you to sleep like the dead.” 

You are giggling and Logan is on edge. You are here. You are alive. He was hopeful that would be the case, but to see everything come to fruition was a lot to process. 

“Lo, baby, are you okay?” You are in front of him, moving in between his legs. 

He can’t help himself. He has his arms around your thighs, pulling you onto his lap. His hand secures itself at the nape of your neck, bringing your head down to his so his lips can intercept yours. Your skirt has ridden up, scrunching up at your ass giving Logan the chance to mold his hand into the flesh. He kisses you with ferocity, needing everything from you.

“Logan,” you laughed between his kisses. “I can’t believe you want to go again after last night, you dog.”

“You’re here,” Logan groans against your lips. “My baby, you’re here.”

“Of course I’m here. Why wouldn’t I be?” Your hands scratch his head, and he simpers as his mouth attaches to your neck, sniffing your pulse point as he keeps you firmly against him. You smell so good, so much so he wants to soak you into his skin.

“You are acting so strange right now, baby. Are you sure everything is okay?”

Logan lays his head against your chest, listening to your heart flutter away. He could cry listening to it, the comforting sound creating a lullaby that will lull his sore head to rest. It’s different hearing it now, knowing that when he wakes up once more, you will be here. You will be by his side when he goes to sleep at night, and when he wakes up. He will share every sunset and sunrise with you, something he will never take for granted for even a second. 

He feels your hands cradling his head, keeping it steady as he starts to rock you in his arms. “What are you thinking, Lo?”

He lifts his head to look at you, your eyes full of warmth. You are looking at him with such patience and poise. Your hands are still on his head, and he goes to move them to his temples. 

“Shift my mind.”

“Logan,” you say, taken aback and unsure but he quells your worry with another slow kiss.

“Trust me,” he murmurs against your mouth. “I need you to understand what I am feeling right now.”

He shuts his eyes, hoping you will indulge him and he smiles when he feels the warmth at his temples spread. He thought his mind going back to his last memory of drowning would cause panic, but he is calm. Maybe it’s because you are able to keep him afloat as you rewind what played out.

It is short lived, but soon he feels your hands go down to the scruff of his facial hair. He opens his eyes and he sees the tears welling in your eyes with a smile. 

“My God, you did it. You remember,” you choked out. Logan can’t help but smother your lips again before kissing your tears away.

“You did a lot of the heavy lifting, sweetheart.” Logan chuckles against your skin. “But most importantly,” he pulls away, hands going to your face to make sure you understand how sincere he is. “You found me. Just like you promised me.”

“I said I would,” you say through tears. “I was determined to find you. To share this life with you.”

This life. A life with all the good things and even the bad ones. A life that he gets to live with you. This new life: a second chance. With this second chance, he isn’t going to waste it. 

“Close your eyes,” Logan says with a peck.

You shut them, and he carefully sets you on the bed for him to stand up. He rushes to the bookshelf, hoping that in this new timeline he was smart enough to have gotten the one thing that showed complete and utter devotion. Even more so, he hopes he hid it where he originally had. 

He finds the royal blue spine, pulling it out to open to the first few pages before the hole within the book is revealed. His lips turn with a quiver, seeing the ring just as it was before. He picks it up, holding it out in the sunlight to watch the diamond sparkle and the gold ban shine. It’s simple but you were never one for extravagant things. After a life of running free, you wanted the simple life and that is exactly what he will give you.

He walks back around the bed, getting on his knees to settle between your legs as he spreads them. Your skirt rode up again and he can’t help but kiss your left thigh and give the other a squeeze. The sweetest noise comes from you, and it only makes him nip at the skin. 

“God, you are such a tease.”

“I can’t resist,” he hums before lifting his head. He holds out the ring and with care takes your left hand in his right. 

“Go ahead and open those pretty eyes for me.” 

He watches your eyes flutter open, a gasp falling from your lips when your eyes fall onto his palm. Your fingers instinctively went to it, and Logan held it more towards you to let them grace the ring. 

“I’ve thought about how I’ve wanted to do this so many times,” Logan starts. “So much so that I pushed it off until it was too late. I will not make that same mistake twice.”

“Logan,” you say with your fingers trailing to his face, as if telling him nothing is his fault. He knows.

“I know I have so much to catch up on and learn. There will be things I am not aware of. You may be different, and I may be different,” He takes the ring and your left hand, holding it near but not quite enacting the officiality. “But the one thing that will never change is how you will always be at the forefront of my mind because I am nothing without you. At the end of the day, I want to come home to you as your husband and you as my wife if you will have me.”

This is such a vulnerable moment, and there was a time where it would eat him up alive. However, being right here with you, proposing to you in this shared room under the light of the morning, encourages him like nothing else. Vulnerability with you gives him strength.

You are biting your lip, eyes watering again as you nod your head profusely. “Put that ring on my finger, handsome.”

He slides the ring onto your ring finger, settling into place perfectly. You held it up, and he watched as you admired the piece, the sparkle of the diamond reflecting in your eyes. It sparks you to look back at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and he notices you shift until your lower body pushes him onto the floor. Your arms bring him in, his head meeting yours as lips reconnect once more.

“I love you so much, Logan. I am truly the luckiest woman alive.” 

All he can think is if you were the luckiest woman, then he is the luckiest man. One decision could have led to a world in which you didn’t exist or one where you two would just be specks living completely different lives. To have woken up in a new world, one that’s more promising, is luck after the hell he had experienced. Having you here in his lap, kissing him like he is the center of your universe, makes him weep with joy. 

You are his world, and in this new life, rather than the world stopping, it continues to spin forward.

[bforblitz]

do the pro-imperialist aspects of tes generally come from oblivion? i've only played morrowind where theyre an antagonistic colonizing force, and skyrim where they're an incompetent bureaucracy, so i was surprised to see your "pro imperialist" take in that one post😭 totally agree about the racism though

okay not to go on full autism mode but. this is highkey my special interest so this is going to be a long post. this does get kind of serious, so i want to preface that this is all just fiction, but it's important to analyze how writers' internal biases can affect the worlds they build. and like I don’t think the Bethesda writers are like “graaa!!! kill all minorities!!” in a way that’s different from the average liberal American imperialist brainrot.

TL;DR tes is pro-imperialist because the empire is constantly portrayed as either good or not as bad as the other options + characterizes racial minorities in a super "they deserve to get colonized" way.

Pretty much every tes game has aspects of pro-imperialism (the only exception I can think of is Redguard). Oblivion is 100% the most pro-imperialist, but Skyrim and Morrowind are steeped in pro-imperialist rhetoric as well, it’s just a little more subtle than “DIVINE RIGHT OF KINGS: THE VIDEO GAME”.

OBLIVION

I don’t think I need to explain too much on why Oblivion is pro-imperialist outside of the concept of “the Emperor is divinely chosen so only he and by extension the Empire can save the world”. The only way to stop the Oblivion Crisis is to relight the Dragon Fires, which only the Emperor can do because of a covenant with Akatosh that says he’ll protect Mundus so long as Alessia’s heirs (aka dragonborns) sit on the throne, and thus the Empire’s claim to dominance is legitimized because they are literally divinely chosen as the protector of Nirn. There’s also how Pelinal is portrayed as a noble hero that the player actually “becomes” when he committed genocide against the Ayleids so extensively that even his allies were disgusted (bit awkward if the player is an elf).

Now I COULD go into how Mankar Camoran’s writings can be interpreted as anti-imperialist, but that’s a huge can of worms that I don’t feel equipped to talk about because there is like. genuinely theological analysis there and I’m a filthy non-believer.

MORROWIND

Morrowind’s pro-imperialism is actually quite interesting. It’s definitely critical of the Empire, painting it as bloated and corrupt, but any attempt at anti-imperialism is stifled by other factors.

The Nerevarine is an imperialist agent. Like not “you work for the Empire”, but ACTIVELY furthering imperialism and making it easier for the Empire to colonize Morrowind. I can expand on this on a different post, but the Empire uses the Nerevarine to politically destabilize Morrowind .

The only reason Morrowind is not a fully incorporated province is because of the Tribunal. Tiber Septim understandably did not want to fight three living gods, so he instead made a deal with Vivec that allowed Morrowind to be semi-autonomous. The current Empire probably also doesn’t want to wrestle with the Tribunal, plus they’ve got Dagoth Ur and Corprus to deal with as well. The Tribunal are also generally seen positively because they’ve done so much to improve the lives of the average Dunmer.

So it’s very, very convenient for them that there’s a local prophecy about an outlander hero (who can be born within the Empire) that is destined to defeat Dagoth Ur and the Tribunal. This is best seen in the Tribunal DLC, in which Helseth (my cringe problematic failson) literally says that now that the Temple is weakened after Almalexia’s disappearance, he can better implement his policies (which are intrinsically in the Empire’s interest). The Empire basically highjacks a sacred prophecy from an indigenous people (the Ashlanders) so they can colonize better.

The Empire is definitely painted as kind of scummy for this, especially since they blackmail you and likely Caius, but only in their methods. Yes, there’s criticism of the Empire, but it’s often coming from people we aren’t supposed to agree with. The idea of the Empire taking over Morrowind is only questioned by locals who are painted as xenophobic bigots and the strangely large amount of tax evaders. Or straight up bio-terrorist cult leader Dagoth Ur. The Empire certainly isn’t perfect, but seeing as how Morrowind is a place of constant strife and danger, they’re the best choice for “stabilizing” the region and making it “safer”.

Going into a more doylist analysis, Morrowind is extremely orientalist. Like by the gods, it is SO orientalist. Let’s start with the fact that Morrowind is explicitly referred to as “the East” while the Empire is “the West”. The Dunmer are analogous to several Asian + MENA cultures, it’s stated by the writers they were inspired by the Japanese and Egyptians. Dunmeri culture is seen as backwards (slavery), violent (solve problems by killing people), mystical (elven magic), conniving (bureaucratic corruption and murder plots), and highly xenophobic. Most of the people on the player’s side are either not from Morrowind or sympathetic to the Empire’s cause (whether they know it or not). We’re clearly getting set up for a Western civilization vs. Eastern barbarism dynamic.

This is best seen in the issue of slavery. In-game, the Dunmer view slavery as part of their tradition and culture. The Empire views slavery as a backward and evil institution that must be abolished. Slavery is undoubtedly evil, and the average tes player is probably going to agree with that. At the baseline, the player is already more supportive of the Empire on this issue because their position reflects our irl values. The primary pro-slavery House is Telvanni, who are arrogant, “crazy” xenophobes. Telvanni is also extremely anti-Empire, and there are many instances where violence is literally just the only answer to problems. The primary anti-slavery House is Hlaalu, who are hypocritical, conniving opportunists. Hlaalu is pro-Empire, but only for their own economical reasons, so they don’t come out of this looking very good either. The writing on the wall is “this culture is so inherently violent and primitive that those who are against this great civilizing force hate us because of we’re bringing progress and those who are with us are doing so because they have no loyalty and are willing to betray their own kind”. Textbook orientalism.

This isn’t even talking about how in Bloodmoon you literally can found a colony, or how the Dunmer traditionally worship the “demonic” Daedra, or how living in an inhospitable place and being violent partly because of that is literally how people talk about MENA people. There is so much that could be said about how Morrowind is pro-imperialist, but I don’t want to ramble for too long.

SKYRIM

Skyrim is, in my opinion, the writers’ attempt at writing something anti-imperial that just ends up being imperialist because they don’t understand how anti-imperialism works. There is, again, a lot to talk about that I can make a separate post on, but I’ll be going over what I think is the most notable examples.

Let’s start with the Empire. Again, the Empire is NOT painted in a good light. But it is kind of telling that most people agree that they're the better of the two options because at least they aren't ethnonationalists, they're only oppressive imperialists. Kinda racist, but at least not as racist?

In my opinion, the Stormcloaks are more interesting when it comes to analyzing Skyrim as pro-imperialism.

First off, we can’t ignore the fact the Stormcloaks are white. Like THE whitest race in tes, PASTY white. They also have that christianized version of the Viking aesthetic going on (@trickstarbrave has a great post about this). They’re literally called the STORMcloaks. They’re based in Racism, the City. They are literally ethnonationalist white supremacists, and I think it’s kind of fucked up that their ideology is treated as a valid way to rule a country.

Similarly, the main negative of the Stormcloaks is the racism. But that really isn’t a negative for people who like them. At best, it’s something they can downplay (not to call anyone out but I’ve seen fics where the author explicitly says their version of the Stormcloaks is “less racist”). At worst, it’s the reason they like them. The portrayal of racism in Skyrim is also cartoonishly hamfisted and inaccurate. The other negative is them not being able to defend Skyrim against the Thalmor, but I'll go into this later.

It's also important to point out that the Stormcloaks' whole thing is that they want to rule Skyrim independent from the Empire because it's their homeland and they don't want the man to tell them what to do. However, in the lore, the Nords stole Skyrim from the Snow Elves, who they proceeded to genocide and enslave (reminder that Windhelm was built by Snow Elf slaves). This is literally the same dynamic as "the white colonists of the U.S. wanted to rule themselves because it's their land, don't ask about the people that have been living here for thousands of years".

The anti-indigenous rhetoric is RAMPANT in Skyrim, and I don't think I need to explain how imperialism begets it. The Snow Elves are said to be dead and gone, which falls into the trope of indigenous people being in the past and not existing in the present. But more importantly, THEY'RE LITERALLY STILL THERE. The Falmer are painted as mindless beasts, but they clearly have culture. They've domesticated Chaurus, they've built their own homes, they have some type of religious structure. They're people that are understandably scared of outsiders who are invading their home, which is why they attack anyone who wanders too close. Again, painting an indigenous group as "mindless savages with no culture who kill innocent people and steal babies" is like THE trick in the anti-indigenous, racist playbook.

The Reachfolk aren't treated any better either. The Forsworn is a group fighting against the people who stole their land, genocided them, and threw them in a labor camp. They are by all rights in the moral good here, but the writers have tacked on very questionable things. They have demonic, Daedric rituals where they transform their own into evil crones and mindless warriors. They wear little to no clothes to represent their "wild" nature. They're bandits who attack innocents and pillage the "civilized". Truly the ONLY quest in Skyrim that isn't about how much we fucking hate indigenous people is the Forsworn Conspiracy, and even then Madanach compromises his own values in collaboration with the Nords. At the end of the day, the Nords are portrayed as the best option for keeping Skyrim at peace. They are in the right for driving the Reachfolk and Falmer off their land.

We have now reached the point where I say probably my most controversial tes lore opinion: I'm pro-Thalmor but for a very specific meta analysis reason. I promise I do NOT like fascism or racism.

The Thalmor being fascistic ethnonationalist who manipulate 4E politics from the shadows is reflective of the writer’s pro-imperialist views and actively deploys anti-semetic + sinophobic tropes. Stripping things of their weird racist tes context: the Thalmor are a political group that rose up against a colonial power that genocided their race. They came to their peoples’ aid during one of the most horrific tragedy when the colonial power could not, and They are actively supporting other colonized peoples to fight against their oppressors (reminder that the writers felt like it was okay to say the Thalmor were behind the Argonian invasion of Morrowind).

How the Thalmor are portrayed in Skyrim is truly fucking terrible. They want to genocide the humans simply because they think they're better than them. They want to get rid of Talos worship because they simply can't accept that a human could ever ascend to godhood. They want to destroy human culture because it is inferior to their own. They are manipulating the scene, they control the Imperial government, which is ineffective and bending to their whims. They're doing evil against humans and the Empire.

I need to stress that the Altmer are in some parts inspired by East Asian cultures (the old Altmer art is literally holding a katana while wearing a shitty recreation of traditional Japanese wear), particularly the Chinese. In fact, ALL of the non-human races are based on BIPOC cultures. Combined with what I said in the previous paragraph, what does that say?

The minorities DO hate us. The minorities WILL form a coalition to destroy us. The minorities DO control everything and want to eradicate us and our culture. The minorities DO want revenge. They are a faceless hoard, a force of brutal and manipulative power that we know nothing about except for the fact that they hate us. They are lying in wait to strike when we are weak. And if we don't get rid of them first, they will do EXACTLY what we did to them.

THAT is exactly how fascism frames its victims. They are weak, but they are strong. They hate us, so we must hate them. If we win, we will return to our former glory and rule the world as its rightful kings. And if we lose?

They will exterminate us.

Now, giving them the benefit of the doubt, I don't think the people at Bethesda are like. consciously into killing minorities. I think this is just the product of that particular flavor of imperialist, borderline fascistic brainrot that every American has (source: I'm an American and I absolutely unconsciously held similar views, even as a POC). Then again, that’s like basically the same thing.

It's really hard to watch people just NOT understand that writers' conscious and unconscious biases affect their writing. I ultimately torture myself by deeply loving this series, and I don't expect people to like suddenly start hating it because it's problematic in the way 99% of fantasy and sci-fi media is.

so yeah. that's the condensed version of my opinion.

[leupagus]

The thing about the "one day we will wake up to his obituary" meme

is that it's a lie.

JD Vance just turned 40. Stephen Miller is 39. Nick Fuentes is in his mid 20s and Andrew Tate in his late 30s. Tulsi Gabbard is just 43, Kash Patel is 45. And statistics (as well as your own lived experience, I'd imagine) shows that white men in their teens and twenties have veered SHARPLY right in the past ten years.

Yes, Trump will likely not outlive most of us; he's pushing eighty and is clearly in poor health. McConnell is in his 80s and retiring anyway; even Henry Kissinger, may his memory be a pox, eventually died.

But it's not so much that that's cold comfort to the elderly and the terminally ill, to the people who were and are and will be outright killed by the bastards whose obituaries we long for. It's that you cannot, if you're young and healthy, reasonably believe that when the bad ones die, more bad ones — who are your age, who are younger, and who one day will be young enough to be your grandkids — won't replace them.

Evil is old, but it's not the sole province of the elderly. Think of the classmate who delighted in being cruel to you; the twentysomething coworker who made your work life a misery; the thirtysomething friend-of-a-friend who outright scared you. None of those people were awful because they were old; they were just awful. And they won't change, and they won't stop hurting others if they have any power to do so.

We cannot be content to outlive them; we have to defeat them, now. Let's not wait.

[gootarts]

as of 8/3, the most recently updated version of this post is here (it's a reblog of this exact post with more info added)

as a lot of you know, limbus company recently fired its CG illustrator for being a feminist, at 11 pm, via phone call, after a bunch of misogynists walked into the office earlier that day and demanded she be fired. on top of this, as per korean fans, her firing went against labor laws---in korea, you must have your dismissal in writing.

the korean fandom on twitter is, understandably, going scorched earth on project moon due to this. there's a lot currently going on to protest the decision, so i'm posting a list here of what's going on for those who want to limit their time on elon musk's $44 billion midlife crisis impulse purchase website (if you are on twitter, domuk is a good person to follow, as they translate important updates to english). a lot of the links are in korean, but generally they play nicely with machine translators. this should be current as of 8/2.

Statements condemning the decision have been issued by The Gyeonggi Youth Union and IT Union.

A press conference at the Gyeonggido Assembly will occur on 8/3, with lawmakers of the Gyeonggi province (where Project Moon is based) in attendance. This appears driven by the leader of the Gyeonggi Youth Union.

The vice chairman of the IT union--who has a good amount of experience with labor negotiations like these--has expressed strong support for the artist and is working to get media coverage due to the ongoing feminist witch hunts in the gaming industry. Project Moon isn't union to my knowledge, but he's noted that he's taken on nonunion companies such as Netmarble (largest mobile game dev in South Korea) by getting the issue in front of the National Assembly (Korea's congress).

Articles on the incident published in The Daily Labor News, Korean Daily, multiple articles on Hankyoreh (one of which made it to the print edition), and other news outlets.

Segments about the termination on the MBN 7 o' clock news and MBC's morning news

Comments by Youth Union leaders about looking into a loan made to Project Moon via Devsisters Ventures, a venture capital firm. Tax money from Gyeonggi province was invested in Devsisters in 2017, and in 2021, Devsisters gave money to Project Moon. The Gyeonggi Youth Union is asking why hard-earned tax money was indirectly given to a company who violates ESG (environmental, social and governance) principles.

Almost nonstop signage truck protests outside Project Moon's physical office during business hours until 8/22 or the company makes a statement. This occurs alongside a coordinated hashtag campaign to get the issue trending on Twitter in Korea. The signage campaign was crowd-funded in about 3 hours.

A full boycott of the Limbus Company app, on both mobile and PC (steam) platforms. Overseas fans are highly encouraged to participate, regardless if whether they're F2P or not. Not opening the app at all is arguably the biggest thing any one person can do to protest the decision, as the app logs the number of accounts that log on daily. For a new gacha such as Limbus, a high number of F2P daily active users, but a small number of paying users is often preferable to having a smaller userbase but more paying users. If the company sees the number of daily users remain stable, they will likely decide to wait out any backlash rather than apologize.

Digging up verified reviews from previous employees regarding the company's poor management practices

Due to the firing, the Leviathan artist has posted about poor working conditions when making the story. As per a bilingual speaker, they were working on a storyboard revision, and thought 'if I ran into the street right now and got hit by a car and died, I wouldn't have to keep working.' They contacted Project Moon because they didn't want their work to be like that, and proposed changes to serialization/reduction in amount of work per picture/to build up a buffer of finished images (they did not have any buffer while working on Leviathan to my knowledge). They were shut out, and had to suck it up and accept the situation.

Hamhampangpang has a 'shrine' section of the restaurant for fans to leave fan-created merch and other items. They also allow the fans to take this merch back if they can prove it's theirs. Fans are now doing just that.

To boost all of the above, a large number of Korean fanartists with thousands of followers have deleted their works and/or converted their accounts from fanart accounts to accounts supporting the protests. Many of them are bilingual, and they're where I got the majority of this information.

[note 1: there's a targeted english-language disinformation campaign by the website that started the hate mob. i have read the artist's tweets with machine translation, and they're talked about in the second hankyoreh article linked above: nowhere does she express any transphobic or similarly awful beliefs. likewise, be wary of any claims that she supported anything whose description makes you raise eyebrows--those claims are likely in reference to megalia, a korean feminist movement. for information on that, i'd recommend the NPR/BBC articles below and this google drive link of english-language scholarly papers on them. for the love of god don't get your information about a feminist movement from guys going on witch hunts for feminists.]

[note 2: i've seen a couple people argue that the firing was for the physical safety of the employees, citing the kyoani incident in japan. as per this korean fan, most fans there strongly do not believe this was the case. we have english-translated transcripts of the meeting between the mob and project moon; the threats the mob was making were to......brand project moon as a feminist company online. yes, really. male korean gamers aren't normal about feminism, and there's been an ongoing witch hunt for feminists in the industry since about 2016, something you see noted in both the labor union statements. both NPR and the BBC this phenomenon to gamergate, and i'd say it's a pretty apt comparison.]

let me know if anything needs correction or if anything should be added.

[seat-safety-switch]

Sometimes, people come to me with problems. I try to leave them with fewer problems than they came in with, or at least the same number, but different. Like those take-a-penny-leave-a-penny jars at the convenience store. Before they outlawed pennies, that is. Now it's take-a-unique-cryptographic-hash-take-a-unique-cryptographic-hash, and nobody has time to do all that math. Certainly you can't fix a loose battery cable with a Merkle tree.

For a couple of months now, I've been working a new job. After my latest parole officer burned out and decided he would much rather be trying to revive the last Mmmuffins franchise left in the Canadian wastelands, I got a new one. And she has a lot of crazy ideas, ideas like forcing me to get a job or she'll put me back in jail. This dedication to her job inspired me to seek some meaningful work in public service. I became a social worker.

Now, I know what you're saying, especially if you're a social worker. Becoming one requires a lot of education, training, and oversight from trusted people. However, my province barely requires a drivers' license. It's exactly the one you think it is. Soon, I was helping folks deal with their most complex familial struggles. One client was a stressed-out single mom, who brought to me her young son. He liked to take things apart, she complained. Once, she found a disassembled flashlight and several stolen screwdrivers under his bed. This, she felt, was not a normal thing for a small child to do.

I had just the cure. That's how I got my transmission swapped in the Dart. All I needed to do was show this little ankle-biter how to work the transmission jack and he tore right into that A727. He already knew the other critical technique of "lefty loosey, righty tighty," which is impressive for his age. After that, I put my feet up, and had a couple beers while he had fun taking apart and putting back together the biggest box of toys that he'd ever seen, courtesy of the Plymouth Motor Corporation.

When I gave him back to his mother at the end of the day, he was tired as all hell. In that state, he was certainly not willing to disassemble any televisions, fridge compressors, or dogs in the area. He wouldn't bother with such small game from now on: no, he had been ruined by the concept of pseudo-economical 1970s American shitboxes. His mother was delighted, and slipped me a couple twenties even though you're really not supposed to tip your social worker (and if you do, I prefer gift cards to RockAuto.)

Is there a moral to the story? Yes. It's that children want to work, so we should let them do it. That way they get a nice outlet to discover the real world, and also I don't have to do jack shit. I do wish the little bastard knew how to read, though. It was very annoying having to lean in every so often to set the torque wrench for him.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

sea ​​shore. l General Marcus Acacius

Summary:  your father wanted you to accompany the General, but you didn't want to do it.

Warnings:  +18, smut, fingering, unprotected sex (remember - safety first), breeding kink, mention of blood, a little bit of angst (but not really)

A/N: it was one thought and then i sat down and wrote thist. there are definitely mistakes, sorry. but i hope you like it. your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤

"Gods! How much longer do I have to listen to this? Why do you have to be such a disobedient daughter?" your father's loud voice echoed through the garden, and the birds, startled by this, flew off from a nearby tree with a screech. "You're just like your mother! Like your mother!"

"You always said that I got my best traits from her." you replied, not hiding your agitation at all.

"And the worst too! You're stubborn and insufferable." your father took a sip of wine from his goblet and nervously stood up from the armchair placed in the shade of a large tree. "I don't know why the Gods make fun of me like that! They punished me with a daughter like you."

"Or maybe they blessed you." you added.

The man snorted something under his breath and shook his head in disbelief.

For several days, your house had been shaken by more and more arguments. Even the servants had already gotten used to them and they didn't react to your raised voices, only sneaking under the walls or, like now, between the flower bushes and trees.

It all started when last week your father, one of the most distinguished generals of the Roman Empire, announced to you after returning from the Emperor's palace that you would go to the province to your estate by the sea.

You were surprised. It wasn't the time of year when you went to that place. And then he proudly declared:

"General Marcus Acacius will honor us with his presence there. Unfortunately, I can't accompany him, but you know this place very well. You will be a pleasant company for him."

You resisted almost immediately. General Acacius was the Emperor's favorite. A brilliant commander, brave and untamed. However, you had no intention of spending time in his company. You knew this type of people, soldiers, very well.

They were brutal and aggressive. They always took what they thought was theirs and didn't show any brilliance.

Of course, your father was different. That's why your mother married him. Unfortunately, fate gave them only one child, a daughter. So you grew up among gardens and shields, and you weren't afraid to say what you thought. Your mother died when you were still little, and your father never married again. So you were the only one left.

And now you were looking at him furious like some goddess of anger and storm, and he had no idea how to deal with you.

"General Acacius is a great man. His presence will be an honor for us." Your father tried to speak calmly, although you rolled your eyes.

"Our family has enough honors, father." you replied. "Years ago, you were in his place. You conquered new territories and wealth for the glory of the Empire."

"But I'm old now. Let the old man enjoy the fact that his home will accept such a wonderful man. Please, go there with him tomorrow. Show him what wonderful lands we have. Please your old father's heart."

"You're perfidious, father." you sighed. "You play the old man card, when you're full of strength. You were training in sword fighting just yesterday!"

You wanted to add something else, but hurried footsteps on the gravel path distracted you. One of the servants appeared and bowed low.

"Sir." she said quietly. "You have a guest. General Acacius has appeared at your request."

"Bring him to the garden, please." your father replied, completely ignoring your indignant look, and added to you. "The matter is settled and beyond discussion. Pack your bags. You're leaving tomorrow."

"I can't believe you invited him here!" you hissed.

Your father just shrugged and poured himself another glass of wine. You knew you couldn't resist any longer and had to fulfill his request. You understood his arguments and you knew that, as the heir to his lineage, you had to make sure that your family didn't lose what your father had fought so hard for.

"Oh, Marcus! It's wonderful to see you." Your father beamed, looking over your shoulder.

"Greetings, Lucius." A low voice rang out behind you, and a stocky man appeared immediately after, shaking your father's hand.

He was tall, with broad shoulders and tanned skin. His dark hair had streaks of gray on his temples, but he was still very handsome. The armor he wore contrasted with your father's white toga.

"Marcus, this is my daughter, Y/N." The General's brown eyes landed on you, he looked at you searchingly. "She'll show you our estate. I'm sure you'll be pleased. You'll spend these few days in almost royal conditions."

"My lady." Marcus nodded, but you didn't even flinch. 

You reminded him of the sculptures of goddesses he'd seen in temples. Beautiful and inaccessible, shrouded in a wonderful fog of mystery.

"Of course, she can talk. She's just a little..."

"I'm dissatisfied." You replied, looking bravely at the General.

"Why is that?" the man asked, folding his arms across his chest, clearly interested.

"I think you'd be more comfortable with my father's company, General." You continued, not looking away from him, even though his eyes were boring right through you. "I'm just a weak woman, I don't think I'd be interesting company for someone with your reputation."

"But certainly very beautiful." Acacius replied.

"Y/N, please go to your chambers and pack." Your father quickly intervened, because he saw that you had opened your mouth again.

You nodded and walked away from your guest. Marcus watched you go until you disappeared into the cool walls of your home.

"A charming creature." He stated, smiling at the older man.

"Yes, indeed." Lucius handed him a glass of wine and raised his own slightly before bringing it to his lips. "Lovely, like her mother. Unfortunately, the Gods only gifted us with her. Sometimes I think it was easier to tame the barbarians on the outskirts of the Empire than to engage in battle with a woman like her."

"Rome needs women like her too." Marcus swallowed a sip of sweet wine.

"And she needs a husband!" your father laughed and sat back down in his chair. "Someone to teach her how to be humble. Maybe when she gives birth to her own children, she'll understand that I always wanted the best for her."

"We don't know what fate has in store for us, Lucius."

The man nodded and looked longingly at the entrance his daughter had disappeared through.

A pleasant, cool wind from the sea swept over your face. The sound of waves crashing against the shore and the cries of white seagulls flying above them filled your ears. You loved this place.

Even as a child, you could spend hours looking for shells and small crabs on the shore. You ran away from the waves that tickled your feet, ran up the sand dunes and picked wild flowers growing nearby.

This house was a safe place for you and now, as you stood on the balcony looking at the setting sun, you felt peace and gratitude.

You heard a rustle and after a moment someone's lips brushed your exposed shoulder, and strong arms wrapped around your waist.

"Why did you leave the bed?"

"I like this view at this time." You replied, feeling kisses slowly creeping up to your neck, you tilted your head slightly, giving him better access to this sensitive spot. "Don't you think it's beautiful?"

"I have a much more beautiful one before my eyes." he mumbled quietly.

You smiled, reaching out behind you and sliding your fingers into his soft hair. As his soft lips roamed your shoulder, one of his hands squeezed your breast tenderly. A quiet sigh escaped your chest.

"Marcus..." you sighed, "You're insatiable..."

"I'll never get enough of you, love." he whispered, "I could die between your thighs or feeling your lips on mine."

"You better not do that." you giggled, turning in his arms and looking into those beautiful eyes, "How am I going to explain to my father that General Acacius died with his dick buried inside me."

"You're right." he nodded, "That could be a tough one. But such a death would be glorious."

His warm lips captured yours. You loved their taste from the first moment. 

When you first met Marcus many months ago, you couldn't take your eyes off him. And he experienced the same, he admitted it to you during one of your secret meetings. You were sure that fate had placed you opposite each other, you couldn't fight it.

His lips quickly tasted yours. Your bodies found their way to each other and soon you were repeating his name in amorous ecstasy. However, you hid it from prying eyes. Marcus was still on the Emperor's orders, and you were afraid of your father's reaction if you tied your fate to the soldier.

"Now everything will change, my love." he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours. "Soon I will be only yours, and you only mine."

"I have belonged to you for a long time, Marcus." you replied. "Since the first time I saw you, I knew..."

"Tell me."

You knew how much he loved it when you confessed your love to him or told him about what awaited you when times became calmer and more gracious for both of you. These stories gave him strength, and your voice soothed his racing thoughts.

He adored you every day. And every night he would raise prayers to the Gods, thanking them for the grace they had bestowed upon him. He didn't think a man like him deserved someone so wonderful and pure.

And yet you were. He held you in his arms, felt your heartbeat, kissed your lips. You were more material than what he believed in.

"I knew you were mine," you said quietly, the pads of your fingers brushing his lips. "You looked at me like you had been searching for me your whole life. And I felt like I had suddenly come alive. I had never felt like this before."

"I thought you were just a dream..." Marcus whispered, his lips brushing your fingers. "I was afraid that if I blinked, you would disappear. If that happened, my heart would never know peace. I didn't think I deserved someone as heavenly as you..."

Your hands rested on his cheeks, and you looked straight into those eyes you loved.

"Marcus, you are the bravest man I know. I couldn't give my heart better than in your hands."

"My hands are stained with blood, my love."

"So let me wash them with my love and devotion to you."

You kissed him, feeling the remnants of sweet wine on his lips. You clung to his bare chest, letting the sheet you were wrapped in slide to the floor. Marcus' hands rubbed your back as he kissed you back.

He slowly moved you and you felt a cold pillar behind you. You leaned against it. Marcus' hand slid between your thighs, touching your slippery folds. The remnants of what he had left there recently were trying to leave.

You moaned quietly, feeling his fingers slide into you.

"You're so beautiful... So divine." he murmured in your ear, glancing as his fingers disappeared inside you. "I filled you to the brim, and I know you'd take even more. I'd like you to walk around Rome with my cum flowing lazily down your thighs... It would remind you of all those moments together. And I'd know that you carry something of mine inside you."

"I've walked like this before..." you replied, smiling seductively. "I felt your seed between my legs when I was talking to my father's guests, and once even at a party in the Emperor's palace."

Marcus growled deeply at the mere memory of how he had possessed you, quickly and hard, during that party, when you both had disappeared for a moment in the dark corridors, unnoticed. His fingers were delving deeper into you, teasing that sensitive spot that was giving you incredible pleasure.

"Yesterday, when I saw you in the garden with your father, I wanted to kiss you." he confessed, kissing the corner of your mouth. "I wanted to fall at your feet, confess my love to you, and beg him to let me marry you. Gods! You were so adorable with those pouty lips and that angry expression."

"I think I would strangle you if you did!" your hand slid down his soft stomach, through his pubic hair, straight to his hard cock. "My father is not ready to part with me yet. I know he says otherwise, but believe me, he is not ready." you stroked his hard manhood a few times and Marcus groaned "But now everything will change. When we come back, a new life will be waiting for us."

"I can't even imagine it, love. Are you sure - ohhhh.... Are you sure he'll agree?"

"Of course he will." His fingers slipped out of you and Marcus stood between your legs, lifting you up slightly and you wrapped your legs around his waist as he slowly lowered you onto his cock "He respects you so much... Ohhh, yes!... He'll be happy when a general like you tames his daughter."

You were so juicy that his cock slid into you without the slightest problem all the way to the base. You breathed deeply, letting your walls get used to the stretch. Even though Marcus had been inside you so many times, each time you felt the same pleasant feeling of being completely filled by him.

"I want you to be my wife, not my servant." he said softly "I will only enslave you in the bedroom when you let me. When you let me be raw and rough, I will fuck that wonderful pussy until tears come to your eyes and your throat hurts from screaming my name."

He thrust his hips and you moaned, wrapping your arms around his neck tighter. He moved hard, his fingers digging into your soft hips where there were already marks from your last closeness. He felt your cunt squeeze him, still hungry for his seed.

Your back ached from being pressed against the column, but you didn't complain. Each thrust was harder and brought you closer to your peak.

"Tell me you'll let me put a baby in your womb." His voice was interrupted by every breath, but you felt that those words went straight to your core. "Tell me I'll see your swollen belly, your milky breasts... You'll be the goddess of life."

"I'll let you fill me to the brim every night... OHHHH! I want to carry your seed inside me, like fertile soil. Our sons and daughters will grow for the glory of your lineage." you moaned, digging your nails into his strong shoulders. "I'll be surprised if we don't come back from here with one of our children nested in my womb. Gods!" 

The mere thought that you could already be with his child made Marcus start thrusting into you harder and more determinedly. 

You felt that you wouldn't last long. His strength and passion were so great that soon you felt your body tense up, and the velvet walls tightly wrapped around his cock. Waves of pleasure flooded your entire body, but Marcus didn't stop. A few more thrusts made his seed flood your pussy once again. Driven by natural instinct, with a loud groan, he pushed them in further and further, as if he wanted to be sure that your prophecies would come true.

You put your forehead to his, you felt his sweaty skin under your fingers, his hot breath warmed your breasts.

You still had him inside you as the cooler evening wind caressed your skin. The cries of seagulls tore you out of your reverie for a moment. He slowly lowered you and your legs buckled slightly under you as your feet touched the cold floor.

"Kiss me, my love." he whispered, and you gladly fulfilled his request.

You kissed the man you loved with tenderness and devotion, you wanted him to feel everything that was in your heart that you couldn't express. And you knew that Marcus felt it.

"You were definitely right about one thing." he stated after a moment, looking at you with love “There are truly beautiful views in this place."

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[mimikittysblog]

The Princess - Prequel

Pairing: Mafia! Poly! Ateez x Fem! Stripper! Reader (ever so slightly Hongjoong focused but not by much)

Genre: Angst, fluff, a hint of smut (no actual sex scenes just mentioned)

Synopsis: Looking at ATZ you’d never expect that they were capable of being in love. Yet they are. How did this happen though? How did you get tangled up in this? And why were they so determined to keep you safe?

Warnings: Kidnapping, major violence, death/murder (not of the major characters), implied sexual activity, MxM of course, alcohol consumption, nightclubs, reader was a stripper, not proofread. So because of all of this please ⚠️MNDI⚠️ if I missed anything please let me know.

Word Count: 5,8k

A/N: ITS FINALLY HERE!!!! I won’t blabber here for too much! So I really hope you like this! Any feedback is appreciated! As well as any questions! Enjoy!

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

“Goodness this place is gorgeous!!” You squeal as you twirl around in your villa.

As San suggested, for your ten year anniversary, you and your husbands went out on a vacation. This year it was to Greece.

“You chose well my smart husband.” Hongjoong compliments Yeosang with a kiss.

“Thank you.” He smiles.

“You guys are too much!” You giggle as you open the glass doors that lead to the beach.

“Nothing is ever too much for you our princess.” Seonghwa says.

You can only smile back as you continue exploring the villa. Later that night you all, as per your request, laid on the beach to stargaze.

“Hmm 10 years with my amazing husbands.. what did I ever do to deserve thissss?” You sighed

Hongjoong who was beside you, reached over and grabbed your hand. Brought it to his lips and kissed it.

“Existing. You exist.”

Before you could protest all of your husbands sounded their agreements to captains statement.

While some of that statement holds true. As the moment the boys met you all those years ago, they knew they would give you everything you ever wanted.

The thing is.. something actually did happened to you.. something that technically you did.

That thing made them want to forever repay you. To make sure a smile will forever be on your face, your heart always content and your mind forever at ease.

The truth is your kidnapping that happened almost a month ago now, was not the first time you were taken from them.

There was only ever one other time.

That fateful night is what changed your husbands to be as protective as they are towards you now.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

Let’s start at the beginning though.

See, while now the name ATZ sends a chill down most people’s spine in your town. Possibly even your province. Soon it’s possible even your entire country. As they’re the most powerful group of them all. 8 powerful men who wouldn’t let anything get in their way.

They didn’t start like this though.

They started out as 8 unfortunate boys all from different parts of town. Some came from cruel families, some were even orphans. Yet somehow they all met each other and instantly clicking like it was fate, or destiny. They all completed each other in a way and shared similar goals and dreams. As well as similar feelings towards the cruel world.

Hongjoong hated how he was constantly looked down upon. Yunho loathed his abusive high class life. Seonghwa and San despised the cruelty society showed them. Yeosang never understood the health care system. Mingi and Wooyoung also loathe their living conditions all because of loan sharks. Jongho hated stupid rich families that took away his.

So they set out to do something about it. Maybe not necessarily to change the world, but to change their situation. It started small, just petty theft. They then moved on to scams and then to grand larceny and so on. Their crimes kept growing and growing in severity. Eventually establishing themselves as a worthy threat.

They knew they became monsters. Somewhat becoming the thing they hated. They thought it was only fair though. If the world was going to be cruel to them, they’ll be cruel back. Sometimes even crueler.

Eventually they could take small breaks and reward themselves after all the work they’ve done.

Plus men like them need to unwind somehow. So what better way than at a nice club with cold drinks and hot strippers?

In the beginning they actually never went to the same club twice, just to make sure they’re always moving. Yet one night at this particular club, something or specifically someone, made them want to stay there forever.

You.

You were the top stripper at this club. Everyone wanted a piece of you. They were no different. Well… maybe a little different. As their desire for you from the moment they saw you was a strong familiar feeling. It felt like when they first met each other for the first time all those years ago.

What they didn’t know is that when your eyes met theirs, you felt exactly the same way. Somewhere deep in your heart you knew they were the people who will make you feel complete.

Just like that, after a single private night with you (which they paid over 10x your usual rate, just to make sure they have you all to themselves), they went from constantly moving clubs to only ever going to this one. You never complained though.

They were your favorite clients.

Behind closed doors though, they were more than that. They were yours. And you weren’t gonna have it any other way. You always got what you wanted anyway. So when they first started becoming regulars, you did whatever it took to make them want to keep you.

You didn’t have to do much really.

They were already yours the second you gave them your famous lap dances.

Yet they weren’t gonna refuse whatever you had to offer. And what you had to offer was incredibly valuable.

Inside information.

People love to talk, especially when they thought no one was listening. Yet your ears were always wide open. Always looking out for the latest inside scoop or internal plans that the boys might need. So when the next time they see you, you always have something to tell them.

While you ride them of course.

Not something you do with your clients but yet again they’ve always been the exception. They give nice tips and more.

There was also actually something unexpected that you were able to give to them. Actually far more valuable than the information you had.

Comfort.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

It isn’t easy being them. They always have to suck up the hard parts of being what they are. It is their consequence. Sure they enjoy some parts of the job, they gain some sick pleasures for the cruelty they inflict. Yet sometimes it’s still a lot.

However with you now being with them, you’re able to just be there to lend an extra shoulder. It made things much easier. You were somehow able to make them feel human again. Not like the monsters they believed they are.

What was first an exchange of goods truly became much more. Now half of the time the guys show up, they truly just wanna hang out with you and drink.

Sure they hope to possibly get a kiss here and there too since they could never resist you. But it really wasn’t really their main reason to see you anymore.

And actually, hanging out with you was also what caused them to realize and admit their feelings for each other.

“..You don’t realize the rest has feelings for you?” You say with a raised eyebrow at the four who decided to give you a visit tonight.

They don’t always go to your club together, sometimes they go alone or even in small groups.

“Heck you guys don’t realize you all have feelings for each other?” You chuckle.

“You look out and care for each other the same way you do me! And as far as I can tell! You don’t look at me as just a friend.” You continue with a smirk.

Oh the looks on their faces. You’ve never seen these men be so shy before.

“…FUCK ALRIGHT FINE! I’ve been in love with all of you for a year now!” Wooyoung finally snaps.

“…me too..” Jongho then admits after a moment of silence.

“..I.. didn’t realize what I felt for you guys was.. love.. romantically I guess..” Mingi says sheepishly.

“..me neither… fuck I never thought I’d ever feel anything romantically.” Yunho whines.

“You’re still only human Yunho. And love like this is something most humans are capable of.” You say as you move to sit in his lap.

“What now..?” Jongho asks.

“That my dear Jongie, is up for you and everyone else to decided. But one favor? don’t leave me out of it?” You giggle.

Yunho could only chuckle before pulling you into a kiss.

“Never.”

Soon another round of fun commenced, where the boys became slightly more touchy towards each other. The next time they visited though, you could tell they were significantly more touchy. More happy too.

So after two years of constantly meeting up with you, they were able to become much more than friends. And they wanted you to be apart of them.

How could you ever say no?

It was all really wonderful.

After a few more visits since making it official the guys decided they wanted to do this properly. So they often took you out when you weren’t working. Being more lovely than all of the guys you’ve ever dated to the point you wondered if they were really a mafia group.

Every date they took you on was just filled with joy and love.

Here they also got to learn more about you as well. How funny you are, brightening their day with laughs. How kind you are with how much you care for them. How smart you are whenever there are problems to be solved and you even helped them with some of their plans. They also learned of your unfortunate background like theirs. How relatable it was. It just makes them fall for you even more and just solidifies how much you mean to them.

Because of that they started to really treat you like a Princess. They even started calling you that. You didn’t think you deserved it but they always told you otherwise. To them you were a princess.

Their Princess.

Despite everything you all should’ve been more careful though.

Cause love is a double edged sword.

And someone was about to exploit that.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

“Good night my Joongie.” You smile as Hongjoong is leaving your club.

“I’ll miss you princess.” He says softly stroking your face before giving you one last kiss.

“I’ll miss you too.”

Tonight it was just Hongjoong visiting. Just a quick meet up to see and treat you for the night.

He shouldn’t have.

Or maybe he should’ve stayed longer.

Or He should’ve taken you home even.

‘Cause even until now, he believed if he did, what happened to you would’ve been avoided.

That is because only an hour after he left. Someone paid you a little visit. It definitely wasn’t for your services though.

Or at least your normal services.

You were just in your dressing room counting the money you made for the night. Chuckling when you realized literally half of it was from Joong, despite you no longer charging them.

When suddenly your room was busted into.

“What the fuck?!” You yell jumping up from your chair.

“Wrong room fellas. If you’re looking for the bathroom it’s on the other side of the building! Now please get out of my dressing room. And if you’re actually here looking for a night with me, tough luck my shift is over.”

They didn’t reply. Instead they took steps towards you with cynical smirks.

You immediately knew they were bad news.

Your heart rate quickened as you tried to figure a way out fast. The men were blocking your door so your window was the only option. Once you realized that you quickly threw a nearby chair at them and scrambled to the window.

You were unfortunate still too slow, or maybe they were just too fast. They grabbed you but you did whatever you could. You kicked, you clawed, bit, screamed.

Whatever you could.

The men were kinda impressed at your efforts but they weren’t gonna deal with you like this. So one of them got out a cloth of chloroform and put it over your airways. You still fought as best you could but the chemical was taking its effects.

“You’re a feisty one. I can see why ATZ likes you.”

That’s the last thing you hear before you passed out. Panic fills you as you realize the reason why they’re after you. They’re trying to get to your loves using you. But you were determined to not let them.

When you finally regain consciousness, you saw you were in a dark room. Most likely a basement. You also felt the rope that was digging into your skin, and the rough scratchy wooden chair.

“Ah! So you’re finally awake!”

You looked to your side and saw the same man that took you. Along with his thugs.

“What the fuck do you want from me?!” You growled, playing dumb.

“Oh don’t act stupid.” He snapped. “We know about your little relationship with ATZ.”

“They’re my clients?!”

“Oh no no. Word on the street is that they’re more. And after just watching you for a few weeks.. we see that they’re so much more.” He chuckled.

“Creep.”

“Maybe. Look pretty, just tell me where their hideout is, what their upcoming plans are and any weaknesses that they have. That’s all and we’ll let you go.” He said with a smirk.

“They’re literally my clients you idiot. Nothing more. I don’t fucking know anything besides their names.”

SMACK

“Stop lying.” He suddenly snapped after smacking you across the face.

He then showed you an abundance of pictures of you and your boys in the club looking far too close to simply be clients. Then he even showed you some pics of you all out on those dates.

You and Yeosang on the beach.

Seonghwa and Hongjoong taking you shopping.

San eating with you at a fancy restaurant.

Yunho, Jongho and Wooyoung having a staycation with you at a 5 star hotel.

Mingi with you at a drive in theater in his most luxurious car.

And more.

You gulped in fear looking at all of these photos. However you just took a deep breath before looking back up.

“I don’t know anything.”

You’re not breaking.

The man then chuckled before leaning down to get up all in your face.

“Pretty. Why are you keeping secrets for them huh? Do you really think they love you? You? A stripper? They’re just bored sweetheart. They’ll get rid of you eventually.” He starts laughing at you. At the absurdity that you thought that they love you.

“So you know what I say? I say get rid of them first. Throw them under the bus! Just tell me what I want to know okay? Then I’ll let you go. Promise!” He continues. Just before pulling out a switch blade and pressing it into your cheek.

“…I don’t want to have to ruin your pretty face and body. Don’t make me angry.”

…

He waited patiently while looking into your eyes. Wanting to read your expression. He then smirked widely when he saw your eyes water.

A single tear then flowed down your cheek. Thinking he’s finally got you. But to his surprise…

You’re not. Breaking.

“Never.”

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

“Hongjoong! Back from seeing darling?” Jongho ask when he saw him return home. He then walked up and gave him a hug.

“Mhm. How was the mission? Everything went well?” Hongjoong asked.

“Of course it did. Better than expected!” Wooyoung suddenly chirped in and snuggled into Joong.

“Good. Now get off me.” He said rolling his eyes. Pretending he didn’t like it.

“…Naaaahhhhh! I missed you! And our Princess! You smell like her.. hmm How is she?”

“Wonderful as always. She decided to end her shift early today.”

“Well why didn’t you take her home with you then? We all miss her you know that.” Mingi asks as he approaches Hongjoong as well. “And get off him! He’s had a long day!”

“I did too and this is how I recharge!” Wooyoung retaliates hugging Hongjoong even closer then giving him a kiss.

“I would but… I don’t know.. She also had a long day and maybe she’d want some alone time tonight..” Hongjoong explains as he moves to the couch.

“How about we just call her?” Jongho shrugs as he sits next to him.

“Yeaaahhh! If she really wants some alone time we’ll let her of course!” Wooyoung reasons as he looks up at him. “Don’t you miss her already too? I seriously can’t take being away from her for too long.” He continues.

“Enough with your whining! I’m calling her now.” Yeosang suddenly says as he walked into the room, phone in hand.

“Hmm she’s not picking up.” Yeosang frowns.

“She’s asleep already?” Mingi asks. Confused as you’re usually still up.

“Maybe she’s that tired.. lets not pester her…” Hongjoong tries to reason.

“Just try one more time. And put it on speaker!” Wooyoung says.

Yeosang only smiles at his whiney boyfriend’s antics as he dials your number again. Putting it on speaker per his request. The phone rang for a while. It rang to the point they were gonna give up and just let you rest. Thinking the assumption of you being asleep to be correct. However the phone was eventually answered.

“Oh darling! You’re still awake! Or did we wake you? Sorry love… we just wanted to know if maybe.. you’d want to come over? We all miss you! Joongie too even though he just saw you hehe” Yeosang explains with a big smile. The others expressions matching his, waiting for your response. Yet.. you didn’t? It was almost dead silent on your end.

“..Darling?”

Soon they started to hear soft panting.

A sinking feeling started to settle upon them.

“Didn’t think you’d call so soon.” A cheery voice suddenly said.

A cheery male voice.

“What the fuck?!” Mingi suddenly burst.

He then grabs the phone out of Yeosangs hand.

“Who are you?! Where’s our girl?!?”

At the loud boom of his voice, the other lovers suddenly rushed to the living room.

“What’s going on?” Seonghwa asks concerningly.

“We.. we tried calling Y/n! But.. this guy answered?!” Jongho explains in a soft panic.

“What?!” San screams.

“Your girl? Cute. Hey pretty. They’re looking for you. Why don’t you say hi? Hmm?”

“Who the fuck are you?!” Mingi continues to bark.

Suddenly a chill runs down their spine once they heard your whimper.

“Darling?? Princess are you alright?!” Yeosang yells into the phone.

You still don’t say anything, just another soft whimper.

“Speak up! They wanna hear you pretty! Oh! Maybe this will make you talk.”

“..N-no!!!”

Just then your painful ear piercing scream came through the phone.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

It’s so much.

it’s almost too much.

The pain.

For what seems like hours these men have been subjecting you to so much pain. In hopes you’ll finally talk. You’ll finally break.

But you won’t.

You can’t.

They’ve also been subjecting you to mental pain. Screaming insults and lies. Telling you how much you don’t mean to your boys, so you should just give in and tell them what they want. How there’s no point in you keeping your mouth shut. How if they weren’t gonna kill you, your “loves” eventually will.

But you didn’t care.

You’re too far gone. Maybe you’re stupid. Maybe you’re insane.

Or maybe you’re simply in love.

So even though you’ve come to acknowledge that maybe they’re right. Maybe you really are nothing but ATZ’s plaything to use when they’re bored. That they wouldn’t even blink an eye at the fact that you’re here or if you died.

You still didn’t care.

Sure it hurts…

The thought that the men you love so much wouldn’t think twice abut throwing you away was almost unbearable.

Almost.

What was unbearable for you though was the thought of them losing. Losing everything they’ve worked for. Everything they’ve built. And especially if they lost their lives.

No.

You knew from the first moment they held you, you’d do anything for them.

As pathetic as that is.

You couldn’t care less.

You love them.

Even if they didn’t.

So you’ll die here. Tortured beyond reason. Just so they stay protected, hidden and alive.

Or so you thought.

Cause the truth is they do care…

‘They called me…’ you thought to yourself

To initially invite you over cause they missed you.

But now their concerned voices are screaming out to you. Begging to know if you’re okay. Begging for your captor to let you go. Bargaining anything for your release.

Hearing all of that you could only whimper.

Overwhelmed with a sense of relief that they in fact did love you.

But you’re determined to keep them safe. So you kept your mouth shut.

Well…

Until that knife came down into your thigh.

“NO STOP IT!!!”

“LET HER GO!! WE’LL TELL YOU WHATEVER YOU WANT! WE’LL GIVE YOU WHATEVER YOU WANT!!”

“PRINCESS!!”

“I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU! BASTARD!”

“Princess talk to us! Please!”

Your captor laughs.

“Awww.. maybe we were wrong pretty. Maybe they do love you. No matter. Still just tell me hmm? Tell me where they are.” The man taunted you. Harshly digging his finger into one of your wounds. Eliciting another scream for you.

“That’s what you wanted to know?!? FUCK FINE! WE’LL TELL YOU! WE’RE-“

“No!”

With whatever strength you had left. You yelped out a plea, cutting Hongjoong off.

“D-don’t.. don’t tell him anything..! AHH!” The finger dug in deeper.

“Even now you’re still protecting them? You’re much more pathetic than I thought.”

“Princess… Princess please.. just tell him. Or let us tell him… don’t do this..” You hear San beg softly over the phone.

“Our love.. our everything please… We can handle it.. just tell him.. or let us! Please!” Jongho added.

“Huh.. I’ve been wondering for so long! What could possibly be your guys weakness?! Turns out… I’ve been giving her a beating this whole time.” Your captor laughs along with his other goons.

“I promise you. We’ll make you fucking pay for even daring to lay a finger on her.” Yunho growls.

“Hmm I’ve been doing much more than that haven’t I pretty?”

SMACK

“STOP!”

“So tell me!”

“We’re at-“

“B-boys stop..!”

“Oh my god stop interrupting them!”

“Y-you wanted me to talk so badly?! I’ll fucking talk! Just.. let me talk to them first!” You yelled.

He stays silent for a minute. Thinking. He then sees no harm in letting you talk to them cause you are finally talking. So he then rolls his eyes at you before moving the phone closer to you.

“..Boys…” You cry.

“Princess! We’re here!” Seonghwa yells, trying to reassure you.

“It’ll be okay our love! Just h-hang on okay?” San adds.

“Just tell him what he wants to know..! We’ll handle it yeah..?” Mingi asks of you.

“My lovely boys.. please listen to me very carefully…” You take a deep breath as you get choked up. Tears streaming down your face.

“I love you. So much. So please… Give this fucker hell for me.”

As soon as those words leave your mouth, you lurched forward and was able bit into your captor’s wrist.

“ACK FUCK!!! YOU FUCKING BITCH!”

He then drops the phone trying to get out of your bite. Now while your upper body was tied up, stupidly your legs were not. So with your free leg you stomped on the phone, effectively smashing it.

Cutting off your communication with your boys.

Soon enough your captor’s goons pulled you off of his wrist.

“You’ll never know where they are! And you’ll never beat them! And when they kill you, I’ll deal with you in hell myself you fucking bastard.” You vow with conviction and eyes filled with a crazed fiery passion, after spitting his blood onto his face.

“Well then enjoy hell you psycho bitch.”

Your world suddenly went black. His fist being the last thing you saw.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

“What? Princes-“

BEEP BEEP

Call disconnected.

“NO!!!”

“PRINCESS NO!!”

“FUCK!”

Panic ensues. The boys are spiraling, still screaming pleas into the phone hoping it’s some kind of glitch. Hoping you can still hear them.

“Yeosang please tell me you got their location?!?! Please!!” San yells to the boy who was trying to locate you through the call.

“W-wait! I-it’s still searching!!” He yells back, eyes filled with tears after hearing everything. Eyes frantically looking at his laptop screen, begging for it to give him your location.

“The call ended!!! Are you sure the GPS can find it?!” Jongho asks.

“It has to!!! God knows what’s happening to her!!!” Wooyoung answers him.

“Please.. please princess hold on… we’ll find you..!” Seonghwa pleads softly into his shaky hands.

“FOUND IT!”

“LETS GO!” Hongjoong barks.

Within a blink of an eye, the boys got into their vehicles and were off. Disregarding any traffic laws and almost certainly causing some kind of accident. But that’s a later problem. They just needed to save you. Quick.

“We’re on our way.. please just hang on…” Yunho says softly as he floors it.

And just like that they found the place where the GPS says you were. It looked like an abandoned house. However based on the armed guards that were surrounding the area, they’ll bet that you were in fact in there.

“Everyone be safe!!! But do what you must to find and get her back!!!” Hongjoong orders through their radio.

Just like that, without mercy and a second thought they stormed in, killing anyone and everyone that wasn’t you in this wretched building. Every room they entered, their eyes searched frantically. Desperate to find you. Absolutely terrified of your fate.

Now you would think that they were outnumbered. As you would think the entire building is just filled with tens of henchmen and it was just the eight of them. You would in fact be correct. They were outnumbered.

However that didn’t matter.

The reality being nothing has ever stopped them before.

And nothing will stop them now.

Especially with your life on the line.

They’re filled with so much pure rage and determination. To the point that if they had to save you in hell from the devil himself. They would.

So what should’ve been a death trap for ATZ. Became a death sentence for your captors.

Eventually Mingi who was ahead of the others, found a looked door. With all his might plus with the adrenaline pumping through him, he broke it down. He saw it lead to a basement and he just knew you were in there.

“GUYS!!! COME HERE!” He shouted before running into the basement.

Yet when he got to the bottom, dread immediately plagued his heart. What he found should’ve filled him with relief but it didn’t. What he found was you. Unresponsive. Tied to a chair with your head tilted down. Bloodied and bruised beyond compression.

No.. you can’t be…

“P-princess…”

“Mingi?! Did you find he- ...no… please no…” Yunho whispered.

The others soon followed Mingi into the basement. When they all saw you though, they feared the worst. When Hongjoong saw the sight of you, he felt his world completely shatter.

“Princess…” He said before running to you and getting on his knees before you. You looked so broken. He didnt even have the heart to touch you.

He couldn’t see you breathing… So he believed the worst.

“Princess no..”

Some just catching a glance at you and already couldn’t take it. Causing them to turn away while holding in their tears. The others just kept staring at you, holding on to hope, approaching you softly.

Hongjoong then ever so softly moved your blood soaked hair out of your equally bloody face.

“Princess.. wake up… l-look at me please..”

Just hours ago he left you at your club after a lovely visit filled with laughter and love. Just hours ago he saw you smile so beautifully at him. Just hours ago you kissed him goodbye. Just hours ago… you were alive…

He’ll never forgive himself.

“I’m so sorry… I’m so so sorry…” he sobbed.

He looks down unable to look at your state anymore. At the sound of their boyfriends cries, they all broke down.

They couldn’t believe that they were too late. They couldn’t believe that they lost you. They knew that they should get out of there. They’re sure more men were gonna come after them but they’re finding it hard to care. You were gone. What does it matter anymore?

Or so they thought.

As Seonghwa was approaching you to cut you out. He noticed your finger twitched.

‘She’s alive..?!’ Seonghwa thinks, eyes widening

Then he sees you trying to move your head ever so slightly and he knows you’re still alive.

You’re still with them.

“S-she’s moving!!! She’s MOVING! she’s alive!! Hongjoong she’s alive!!!”

Hongjoong, who was closest to you, along with everyone else’s eyes immediately snapped back up and saw your own fluttering open.

“…j-joong..ie..”

“P-princess!!!! Cut her out now!! Seonghwa!! Yeosang!! Take her to the nearest hospital!! Do what you must to get her urgent care!! We’ll deal with everything later!! Princess hold on okay??? Just hold on!!” Hongjoong orders.

As quickly and carefully as they could, they cut you out of your restraints and carried you out. While Seonghwa and Yeosang left to take care of you. The others are going to deliver on their promise.

So they continued their massacre in this building. They continued to kill anyone in their sight, being more brutal now. Knowing you were no longer in this building. Also because they saw what they had done to you.

No person should live after what they had done to you.

Eventually they burst into a lavish office. Only to see just a man sitting at his desk sipping wine.

“So? You’re finally here. Did you get to her in time? Or did she kick the bucket already?” He chuckles.

Recognizing his voice, they knew this was the man responsible. They also saw the blood on his hands and clothes. It completely blinded them with rage once again, that this man could tease them like that as he was splattered in your blood.

So while usually the boys did enjoy some stupid banter between their enemies. Obviously though, they’re currently not in the mood.

So without blinking, let alone saying a single word. Hongjoong walked up to him and knocked him out with a single wrath filled punch.

Oh your captor will think hell will look like heaven when your boys are done with him.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

Your eyes begin to open. Bright light is what greats you. For a split second you thought you died. Thankfully though you felt their hands on you. Knowing that it’s their way to make sure you’re still there with them. At the flutter of your eyes they perk up, waiting to see if you’re really waking up.

You did.

You opened your eyes fully and take in the sight of them.

My goodness…

They look so disheveled..

They’ve never looked this sad, this worried, this.. broken…

You couldn’t help but pout a little before slowly smiling when you really understood the situation.

You’re still alive. You’re still with them. And they’re right here.

“M-my loves…”

Not a single pair of eyes were dry in that room.

Everyone started to sob at the reality that you’re gonna be okay.

“We did what you asked princess… we killed him. We made sure he suffered too.” Hongjoong tells you in a whisper.

“He won’t hurt you anymore.” Yeosang adds.

“No one will.” Seonghwa says.

“We promise.” Wooyoung tells you as the others nod.

You smile at them before crying even more.

“I’m.. I’m just h-happy you’re here… I’m happy you.. you actually love me..” You sob.

“what?! Of course we do..!” Yunho says

“He.. he made me think… y-you’ll… you’d throw me away..”

“Never.” San promises.

“I was.. so scared… b-but I promised myself t-they wouldn’t get to you.. I.. I wasn’t gonna let them..!” You cried harder, remembering all they put you through.

The boys did what they could to comfort you. Reassuring you that they were safe and that you are very loved. Your cries and the stories you tell of what they did to you also causing them extreme pain.

At the end of your retelling, you heard a soft thump. You all looked over to see Hongjoong on his knees beside your bed.

“J-joongie..? My love what are you-“

“I’m sorry… it’s all my fault.” He starts, with a shakiness in his voice.

“Hongjoong my love that’s not true-“

“No. It is. I should’ve brought you home. I should’ve protected you. You didn’t deserve any of that. I.. I’m sorry.” He starts, tears streaming down his face.

“But I promise you princess. I will do. Anything. And everything. For you. To make sure this doesn’t happen again. To make sure you’re safe, happy and loved. I’ll make sure nothing will ever harm you again. I swear.” He vows to you still on his knees.

As you were about to speak, all of your boys then began to sink to their knees as well.

“We swear too.” Jongho vows as well.

“Darlings…”

“We’ll make sure you’re the most respected. The most feared. The most important person anyone will ever know. No one will ever dare harm you again.” Yunho adds to the vow.

You hear it in their voice. They mean it.

And these boys always delivers on their promises.

“My loves… Thank you.” You say softly.

Just like that, that’s how the tradition of people bowing down to you started.

It took you weeks to fully recover. The boys making sure to keep you company and you get the best service while you were healing.

Though they had lots to do though. They had to deal with the hospital and the traffic accidents caused trying to get to you. It was all worth it though. Because at the end of the day, you’re always worth it.

Once you were discharged they surprised you by revealing that they bought a new home. One where you’ll be living in with them. It really was a dream.

A couple of years later, you all finally decided to tie the knot. It was a lavish but small wedding. You nine are the only family you have. So it’s just you and the very confused officiate. You wouldn’t have it any other way though.

It really was the best night of your lives.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

Ten years later here you are.

Celebrating your anniversary once again.

After your night on the beach, most of you were discussing what else to do while you’re on vacation. You noticed however that one of you was not there. You looked around the villa to find Hongjoong at one of the balconies.

“Joongie..? Sweetheart? What are you doing here my dear husband hmm?” You ask as you approach him. Hugging him from behind.

“…I can’t believe we’re here.” He softly mumbles.

“..in.. Greece?” You ask confused

Hongjoong chuckles before turning around to hug you.

“No. I can’t believe we’ve been married for ten years.. together for.. what 16? And.. happy. After everything…” He says softly cupping your cheek and rubbing it softly.

You giggle before nodding.

“Me neither darling.. but I can see the sadness in your eyes. What’s troubling you hmm?”

“..I just… I can’t believe you still love us after everything. My love.. you got kidnapped again…. after I promised.. I vowed. that I would keep you safe. You stayed with us after all of that and I can’t really see how... I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if you suddenly ran away fro-“

You then cut him off his rambling with a kiss.

“Never say such ridiculous things my husband.” You said sternly. “I would gladly get kidnapped everyday if it means you’d be the one that saves me and I could be with you forever. Why? Because you’re worth it.”

“You’ve made me feel so happy, loved and alive all these years. When before you all I was just surviving. I love all of you so much. You call me your princess because you treat me like one. Why would I ever run away from that? …Please stop blaming yourself for what happened to me all those years ago and what happened recently. None of it was your fault. Besides! Remember what I told you all? What really harmed me that night was not the physical aspect of it. Sure it hurt. But what really made it torture was the thought that you wouldn’t save me… that you didn’t love me. But you do. So it made it worth it and I never once doubted your love for me ever again. So please never doubt mine.”

Before he could argue you cut him off with a kiss once again.

“No arguing with your wife on our anniversary. …or ever cause I’m always right anyway.” You giggle.

It caused Hongjoong to laugh too before nodding and pulling you into one last kiss.

“Alright.. I love you darling. Forever.”

“I love you more.”

“YAAAH WHAT ABOUT US??”

You turned around to see the rest of your husbands, Wooyoung in the middle all pouty.

“Oh just get in here already!” You say before they all quickly come over and wrap you two up in a big group hug.

Getting here wasn’t easy. There are also a million things that you guys went through that parts of you wish you didn’t. Sometimes you wish you all were just a normal married couple that wasn’t constantly targeted.

Yet moments like these…

Yeah.

It’s worth it.

“Sooooo ready to continue celebrating our ten years in this beautiful place my loves?” Yunho asks

“Let’s go!”

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

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[slytherin-pen]

The Secret

pairing: Xaden x Reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings: ONXY STORM SPOILERS, DO NOT READ FUTHER

a/n: ok so during my reread ahead of OS i caught some foreshadowing whenever Xaden talked about family but specifically when Violet asked if he had any siblings. idk it just rang bells in my head, i honestly thought he would have a secret sibling but then we saw what actually happened..i’m still proud of myself like i caught that shit! anyways, here’s me giving my theory some life. also, happy day 5 of Xaden Week! @empyreanevents

“Xaden what is going on?” you ask as you jog to catch up to his long strides.

He’s been acting weird all day. Being short with you, not kissing you, and seemingly avoiding any physical affection since you and your squad arrived at Riorson House for your two-week rotation.

It was your first rotation in Aretia from Basgiath since leadership came to an agreement of sorts to both protect Navarre and the provinces outside of the wards. You had been excited, Rhiannan and Ridoc teased you constantly during the days leading up to it. It would be the first time you got to spend more than a day there while conscious. When Xaden brought you here after you’d been stabbed by a venin during War Games, you slept most of the time and once you were awake you all rushed out the door back to Navarre for Garrick and Xaden’s graduation.

Now that you think of it, Garrick, Bodhi, and Imogen have been acting weird since you arrived too. You had even asked Rhiannon if you smelt bad—worse than the usual smell you have after being on dragon back for hours—but she said no. Your confusion had only amplified.

An insecure part of you thought that he was about to break up with you. It’s the only explanation you could come up with. His friends are avoiding you. He’s avoiding you. Why else if not for knowing that the moment you arrived after not seeing him for weeks, he was going to end things? It angered you. Sure, they’re his friends, but you thought they were yours too. That you at least had some form of girl code with Imogen, and if she knew your heart was about to be broken she’d warn you. But you also knew their loyalty to him came above all else. That if he asked them not to say anything to you, they would listen.

You lunge, gripping his wrist and he finally stops to face you. “Can you answer me?” you snap. “What the hell is going on?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose as he exhales slowly. “I—just follow me.”

When all you do is glare at him in response, he sighs again. “Please?”

You drop his wrist but put more distance between him as you walk down the halls of Riorson House. If this is really how he breaks up with you, you’re going to be livid. Two years together and this is how it ends? This is how he treats you? You’ll stab him. And then when you’re done stabbing him, you’re going to stab his friends too. You get it. Kinda. He’s officially the Duke of Tyrrendor—or at least has the title back. He has a lot of responsibilities on his shoulders, on top of everything he already has. It’s a lot, and it doesn’t leave a whole lot of time for him to be your boyfriend. But you didn’t mind. Now, you want to kick yourself for sitting around like a lost puppy waiting for him to throw you scraps.

He unlocks a set of double doors with a flick of his wrist and motions for you to enter the room. Your boots scuff along the cobblestone floors as you hesitantly walk inside. The room is bare aside from a square wooden table and three chairs. The lack of dust on the table tells you it had been moved in here last minute for this very occasion. You nearly scoffed. You were definitely going to stab him after this.

Xaden clears his throat. “Just—uh—sit down and I’ll be right back.”

You don’t even get to send him a withering glare before he’s out the door again, shutting it behind him.

You stomp to the chair on its own side, across from the side with the two other chairs, and plop down. Your knee bounces with anticipation. You can tell he’s nervous. You can count on one hand how many times you’ve heard Xaden stutter, but the sympathy you usually feel for him in those moments is nowhere to be found. How does he think you feel? You’re not stupid. You can tell something is going on, and his nerves only exacerbate yours.

Anger flares in your chest. He has no right to be nervous. He’s not the one being broken up with. He’s not the one being ignored and led to a sketchy abandoned room by yourself. What’s next? He tells you that you can’t join your squad on the next rotation? That he never wants to see you again? Tears prick your eyes but you blink them away. He doesn’t get to see you sad. You’ll stab him and then go cry to your squad. You know at least Sawyer would help you stab the others who knew about this.

As your thoughts continue to spiral, the door finally opens again. Xaden stands in the doorway, shielding your view of the hall with his body and the door.

You roll your eyes. “Just spit it out Xaden. I don’t have all day. Might as well get it over with.”

Confusion flashes across his face but he reins it in quickly. “I have something to tell you.”

“No shit,” you scoff.

Again with the confused face. As if he has no idea why you’re so angry. He really does think you’re too stupid to figure it out.

“Just try not to be mad at me,” he pleads softly. “I had my reasons and you know how far I’ll go to protect the ones I love. It’s not that I didn’t trust you, but no one who didn’t already know before the Apostasy could find out. It was the only safe option.”

Now it’s your turn to be confused. Your face scrunches as you look him up and down. What the hell is he talking about?

He pushes the door open the rest of the way as he slowly walks inside. It isn’t until he’s made it past the doorway that you notice something behind him. Correction. Someone.

Your jaw drops as a child—a boy—who looks like the carbon copy of Xaden shuffles in behind him. He couldn’t be older than ten. He has the same black hair and brows. The same tawny skin and onyx eyes. His hands are held behind his back, just like Xaden’s. The perfect, confident posture that you only learn from years of being taught how to carry yourself as a leader. Regardless, you can tell the boy is nervous with the furrow between his brows. The way he keeps looking at Xaden for reassurance.

“My love,” Xaden begins, glancing from you to the boy, “this is my little brother, Jace.”

The boy—Jace—steps forward and dips his chin in greeting. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss.”

Your mouth gapes like a fish, your brain still grappling with the fact you are not being broken up with but instead being introduced to a child.

“Little brother?” you manage to choke out.

Xaden nods, placing a hand on Jace’s shoulder as he guides him to sit down in a chair across from you, Xaden taking the seat next to him. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner, but it was crucial no one knew of his existence until it was safe. Now that we have some form of an alliance with Navarre, his presence can be known by others but still kept quiet.”

“I—I’m sorry. You have a little brother. That’s why you brought me here?” you stammer.

Xaden tilts his head as he regards you with his inquisitive gaze. “Yes, love, this is why I brought you here. Why else?”

You shake your head, hoping that rattling your brain around will help unscramble your thoughts. “I’m just shocked is all,” you say. “It’s not at all what I was expecting. It’s wonderful to meet you, Jace.”

Jace gives you a shy smile and looks back to his brother.

“Why exactly has he been kept a secret?” you ask.

Xaden sighs and ruffles Jace’s hair, to which Jace swats his arm away with a glare that could one day rival Xaden’s. “As of right now, he’s my heir. With all the targets on my back, and even Bodhi’s who everyone thinks is my last living relative, it was the only way to keep Jace safe. You want to believe no one would kill a child for the sake of ending a family line, but I wanted to believe an entire kingdom wouldn’t keep venin and wyverns a secret from its people for so long, yet here we are. If anyone high up had known that Duke Lewellen was harboring my little brother—I don’t even want to think about what they would have done.”

You nod solemnly. He’s right. You would want to believe they wouldn’t kill an innocent child but you have seen just how far they’re willing to go to keep their secrets or further their agendas. Jace would have been an easy target.

“So now that you’re back, he doesn’t have to be a secret anymore?” you hedge.

“Kind of. Those who are trusted to come to Riorson House are allowed to know about him, but I ask everyone to not let it leave Aretia. Things are still rocky between Tyrrendor and Navarre despite the treaty, and I won’t take any risks when it comes to him. But now that I’m home to watch over him myself, I feel a little better about letting him out into the world.”

“I can take care of myself,” Jace chides.

You roll your lips together as you try to suppress a smile. He’s practically Xaden Junior and you want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. That your thoughts spiraled to something so terrible when in reality, Jace will probably be the greatest gift. He’ll at least make things a lot more fun around here.

Xaden smirks as he looks down at Jace. “Yeah, I’m sure you could, little man. You’ll give Bodhi a run for his money when he starts training you in combat.”

They joke and tussle each other some more while you watch with a fond smile. Your galloping heart is still slowing, still soaking in the truth, but the sight of Xaden and Jace laughing together soothes you. Xaden is so serious all the time, always brooding or giving orders. It’s nice to see him be a little more lighthearted.

As they calm down and remember their company, the seriousness returns to Xaden’s face as he looks at you. There he is.

“I wanted to tell you first, Xaden murmurs. “But I didn’t get to pick the rotation schedule. I’m sorry.”

You shook your head. “No, it’s alright. I honestly—“ You halted, remembering Jace and deciding it wasn’t best to have this conversation in front of him.

Xaden seemed to realize your hesitation and told Jace to go find Garrick with a pat on his head. Jace smiles at you in goodbye and you return it. Xaden picks up his chair and moved it to your side of the table, leaning so his elbows rest on his knees and gives you his full attention.

You reposition yourself in your seat and grab one of Xaden’s hands to fiddle with his fingers in an effort to calm your nerves.

“I thought you were breaking up with me,” you whisper.

His head rears back, shock clear on his face. “Why the hell would you think that?”

Heat spreads across your cheeks from embarrassment. “You were acting weird. Everyone was acting weird. It’s just the first thing that came to mind, I’m sorry.”

Xaden places one of his hands on yours to stop your fidgeting, forcing you to look up at him. “Don’t apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for. Everyone was acting weird because they knew I’d be telling you today and honestly, I was terrified,” he says, his voice cracking at the end.

Your brows furrow with confusion.

Xaden sighs and scoots his chair closer to you, your knees touching. “In the beginning, I had to keep so many secrets from you. And we promised each other to be truthful after you found out about the revolution. I worried that when you found out…you’d break up with me. It’s why I didn’t let myself touch or kiss you. I thought it would just make it worse for myself.“

“Oh, Xaden,” you sigh. You get up from your chair and crawl into his lap, straddling his muscular thighs as he moves his hands to your hips to support you. Your hands cup his face as you speak. “I don’t blame you for my insecurities. And I definitely don’t blame you for protecting your little brother. It’s quite sweet, actually.”

Xaden scoffs and looks away, a slight blush crawling up his cheeks. You smile at the man you love. The man you are so happy isn’t breaking up with you. It’s the first time you’ve been grateful he had another secret.

Onyx eyes meet yours and you practically melt at the love shining in them. “I’m so glad you aren’t mad at me,” he whispers.

“I’m glad you aren’t breaking up with me,” you whisper back.

His lips find yours, slow and passionate. As if he’s pouring his love into your mouth and making sure you savor every declaration.

He rests his head against yours, your chests heaving as you catch your breaths. “We are going to have a talk about why in Dunne’s name you thought I would ever let you go.”

You laugh, throwing your arms around his shoulders as your head tilts back.

There’s a smirk on his face when you calm down, but his eyes tell you he’s not joking. He won’t be letting this go anytime soon.

“So when do I get to watch Jace kick Bodhi’s ass?” you ask.

This time Xaden is the one to laugh.

[slaytheusurper]

⭑ Limerence ⭑ (Domina Mea, Chapter Nine)

Masterlist

Pairing: Emperor Geta & Caracalla x Noble!Reader

Warnings: +18, NSFW, making out, heavy petting, implications of breeding/pregancy, masturbation (m), oral (m receiving) and some angst!

Summary: Saying goodbye is hard...

Word count: 3.5K

The battle still swirled through your mind as you were escorted out of the Colosseum. The bloodied sands, the roar of the crowd, the glint of steel under the sun, each detail played over and over again. 

Relief and anxiety warred within you; your father had survived, but at what cost? What fate awaited him now?

The streets of Rome were alive with noise as the grand carriage pulled up, cheers and whispers blending into one indistinguishable murmur. The moment you stepped inside, the heavy doors shutting behind you, the city’s cacophony dulled. 

A thick, expectant silence settled between you and the twin rulers of Rome.

Caracalla sat beside you, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him, his knee brushing against yours with every jolt of the carriage. Across from you, Geta’s gaze was unreadable as he settled into his seat, his fine robes shifting with the movement.

Tension coiled in the air like a drawn bowstring.

“Your Majesty?” you finally spoke, directing your voice toward Geta, your heart hammering as his sharp eyes locked onto yours. His silent acknowledgment gave you permission to continue.

“Now that…” You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “Now that my father has been granted his life by the gods, I was wondering what would happen to him now.”

You felt Caracalla’s gaze flicker to you, the weight of his attention pressing against your skin as the carriage lurched forward, its wheels crunching over the cobbled roads. The rhythmic sway did nothing to ease your nerves.

Geta exhaled through his nose, his expression softening just a fraction. “The usual procedure would be demotion,” he admitted. “He will take up a governorship in one of the outer provinces, far from Rome. The gods may have spared him, but we cannot fully trust him after such treason.”

Your stomach twisted, but you swallowed any protest. It was not death, at least. He would live.

“As for Lucilla,” Geta continued, “she will accompany him.”

Your shoulders slumped slightly in relief. At least they would not be separated.

But before you could speak again, Geta leaned forward slightly, his eyes dark with something deeper. “You, however…” He studied you. “You heard what Macrinus said. You were right, and of course, you have our trust.”

It was not an apology, Geta would never lower himself so, but it was an acknowledgment. That was more than most received.

“Thank you, Caesar,” you murmured, offering him a small, sincere smile. “Not just for your trust, but for the mercy shown to my father.”

The warmth of the moment was fleeting. The thought of Macrinus still loomed in your mind, his betrayal an ugly stain on everything.

“What will happen to Macrinus now?” you asked, your voice quieter but no less intent.

A shadow passed over Caracalla’s face as he turned to his brother, his meaning unmistakable. He wanted blood. Now.

Geta smirked. “He will die,” he said simply, the finality of his words settling over the carriage like a shroud. “But not yet.” His lips curled slightly. “I want him to panic. To sweat. To feel the walls closing in on him before we finally seize him.” 

He studied you with mild amusement. “Then, perhaps, I will let you decide how he dies.”

Caracalla gave a low chuckle beside you, pleased. He turned to you, his fingers grazing along the back of your hand before taking it fully in his grasp. “Macrinus must suffer for what he has done to you, to us.” His grip tightened slightly. “And once all is settled, you will finally be ours.”

Yours. The possessiveness in his tone made your pulse quicken.

You turned to him, confused. “Caesar, what do you mean by… ours?” You spoke carefully, measured, not wanting to stir his temper.

Caracalla laughed, as if amused by your naivety. Geta, ever the composed one, leaned forward slightly, his voice smooth as silk.

“We couldn’t decide which of us should marry you,” he explained. “So we remembered: we are the Emperors. We will do as we please.” His smirk widened. “We shall both marry you.”

Your breath caught. The audacity of such a thing, the implications, the consequences. This would be scandalous beyond measure. Would the Senate even allow it?

Caracalla caught the flicker of uncertainty in your expression and his mood darkened. His grip on your hand became almost bruising. “What?” he bit out. “Do you secretly prefer one of us?”

“No! Cae- Caracalla,” you blurted, reaching for him instinctively with your free hand. “I promise you, if I were in a life-or-death situation and forced to choose between you, I couldn’t. I would die.” Your voice softened, eyes pleading.

His fury melted almost instantly. His jaw unclenched, his fingers threading through yours, squeezing as if to assure himself of your devotion.

Geta watched the exchange with quiet amusement before leaning back against his seat. “We’ll make sure you never find yourself in a life-or-death situation again,” he murmured. “You will be Empress of Rome, mother to our heirs. No one will ever touch you again.”

Your heart pounded as the weight of his words settled over you. Caracalla’s thumb brushed over the back of your hand before his other hand drifted to your arm, a slow, possessive caress.

“Would you like that?” he murmured, his voice thick with something unspoken. “Swollen with our son- the next Emperor?”

Heat crawled up your neck as you nodded, a blush betraying you. “I- yes.”

Caracalla smirked, pleased.

“Does that excite you, my love?” Geta’s voice was husky, lower than before, and your body reacted before your mind could catch up.

You swallowed. “It does, Geta.”

His name felt foreign yet electric on your tongue.

Slowly, he moved closer, taking up the little space left in the carriage. His hand rose, fingers brushing delicately against your cheek before he cupped it fully, his thumb stroking the warm skin there. You leaned into his touch, breath shallow.

Outside, Rome continued on, the people oblivious to the storm brewing within the grand carriage. Inside, the world belonged to the three of you alone. 

Caracalla tugged on your robes, drawing your attention back to him. Both of their hands gripped you possessively but it was Caracalla who forced his lips on yours first. His tongue invading your mouth slowly after. The kiss quickly got heated, you could feel your body responding to him.

Geta started to grope at your breasts, your thighs, anything he could get his hands on before sucking and licking at your neck. You moaned in Caracalla’s mouth, he returned it eagerly as he could feel himself growing hard. 

Geta then made the mistake of peering outside the window, moving the curtains that protected you from the citizens' eyes. He noticed how it would not be long before the carriage would arrive at the palace again. 

He hesitated, he was so fucking hard already, he wanted nothing more then for him and his brother to take you right now- but there would not be enough time. 

“We’re almost there.” Geta blurted out, drawing his attention back on his twin still tongue deep in your mouth. You broke apart from Caracalla, who whined and tried to pull you back in. 

“I don’t fucking care, I’m already hard-” He muttered against you cheek. Peppering kisses on your skin. 

“Maybe I could just- help you and continue when we have more time?” You murmured, relishing in Caracalla’s touch.

He could feel his cock twitch at your words, remembering how you helped him discover a new ‘pleasure’ last time. 

Geta watched in awe as you pawed at his brother's robes, closing the small curtain again as he focused fully on you again. 

“Need your mouth-” Caracalla almost growled, his mouth sucking on the skin on your neck. Your hand moved to his groin, fabric already tented due to his arousal. Massaging his cock through the fabric earned you a moan from him.

Then you slithered your hand under the silk robes, moving them out of the way to reach his undergarment, which he helped you swiftly remove. 

Geta chuckled at his brother’s eagerness. “Let’s see how fast you can finish him off before we reach the palace, if you succeed, you’ll get rewarded, if you don’t, you get punished.” He breathed out, his own hand moving under his robes.

Caracalla giggled at his brother's words, but neither you nor him noticed Geta’s ‘plans’. Caracalla was silenced for a moment when you freed his hard length before taking him in your mouth. A rather loud moan filled the moving cabin along with your suckling noises. 

You tried your best to give him the most pleasure you could in a moving carriage, sucking on his head, taking him deeper in your mouth, hands massaging his balls. Geta did his best to give himself the most pleasure, it had been a long time since he used his hand to get off.

But how could he not with the sight before him? Geta let out soft grunts as his hand fisted his own cock tightly under his robes. Still, you didn’t notice, too busy trying to get his twin to his peak.

“Fuck! Just like that-” Caracalla panted, his hand messing up your beautiful hairstyle as he held on for dear life. The most obscene noises filled the air, as you kept bobbing your head up and down the Emperor’s cock, his pre-cum already salty on your tongue. 

“Almost there-” He huffed, his lips parted and face red. Then Caracalla heard a familiar groan, his eyes opened to see his brother's hand moving frantically under his robes. “Couldn’t wait brother?” Caracalla chuckled with short breaths.

Caracalla hissed when you sucked particularly hard on his tip, your own eyes opening to glance to your side. You moaned around Caracalla’s length when you noticed Geta pleasuring himself. 

“Fuck- she likes it too, moaning on my cock-” Caracalla whined. He was close, and for some reason, seeing his twin like that only spurred him on more. 

You felt the way he twitched in your mouth and focused back on Caracalla. Determined to make him come before you were back. You used your hand to firmly massage his stones while you used your other hand to jerk him off while sucking on his tip. 

That was exactly what Caracalla needed to fill your mouth with his seed, letting out strangled moans in the process. When he was fully empty, you looked over to Geta, who seemed to be near his own peak.

In a split second you made a decision and kneeled before the other Emperor, helping him remove his robes out of the way to swiftly take his cock in your mouth, his was much longer and you could barely suck him off before he already came in your mouth as well.

Both Emperor's seed rested on your tongue before you swallowed it, looking up with pride at Geta, who had a surprised but blissed expression on his face. Trying to catch his breath. 

But then the Carriage came to a halt. You were fast to get back in your seat while the Emperor’s quickly tucked their softened cocks away. You were just in time before the carriage doors swung open and revealed Praetorians ready to escort you all inside. 

The Praetorians couldn’t hide their knowing smirks as the three of you stepped out of the carriage. Though they said nothing, their expressions spoke volumes. It was plain for all to see what had taken place within those gilded walls. 

Your hair was tousled, the pins barely clinging to the disarrayed strands, and the Emperors, equally disheveled, wore the unmistakable sheen of satisfaction. 

Their smug, pleased expressions, the way Caracalla rolled his shoulders languidly, and the way Geta straightened his tunic but made no effort to fix his ruffled hair, none of it helped disguise the truth.

Heat crept up your neck as whispers slithered through the palace corridors. Servants kept their gazes respectfully low, yet you could feel their curious glances from beneath their lashes. It was not shame that gripped you, but something else- a dangerous sort of thrill. They all knew. The entire empire would know, soon enough.

The Praetorians surrounded you in an impenetrable wall of steel as you followed the Emperors through the opulent halls, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows over the marble. 

You barely had time to catch your breath before Geta turned towards his chambers, fully intending to resume your earlier activities. But just as you neared the threshold, a figure stepped into your path.

A senator.

Short, round, and completely bald, the man had the look of someone who was painfully aware of his own insignificance yet desperate to prove otherwise. He cleared his throat, eyes darting between the two rulers as he gave a quick bow.

“My Emperors, there is a matter of concern that must be settled. And soon.” His voice was urgent, though he hesitated under Caracalla’s piercing glare.

Caracalla’s grin was slow and almost cruel as he cast a glance back at you. “Can’t it wait? We are already occupied.” His tone was a purr of amusement, laced with implications.

Your breath hitched as the senator’s face darkened in embarrassment. The poor man couldn’t even meet your gaze. “I-I'm afraid not, Caesar,” he managed, his voice strained. “We are waiting for you in the throne room.”

Geta exhaled a sigh, rubbing his temple before turning back to you. His fingers found your cheek, his touch deceptively gentle as he leaned in close. His breath was warm against your ear.

“Can you be a good girl and wait for us in my chambers?” His voice was low, meant only for you.

Your stomach tightened at the words, at the way his fingers lingered against your skin. You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the situation.

He studied your expression for a moment longer before pulling away, straightening as he turned back to the senator with a resigned huff. “Lead the way, then.”

The Praetorians immediately divided, half of them following the Emperors while the other half escorted you deeper into the palace. The further you walked, the more a strange sensation settled over you. 

The halls, once daunting, vast, and unfamiliar, now felt like home. The towering marble pillars, the golden embellishments, the murals depicting Rome’s endless conquests… it was all becoming yours.

By the time you reached Geta’s chambers, the guards opened the heavy doors without hesitation, stepping aside as you entered alone. The moment they closed behind you, sealing you in, silence descended.

You exhaled.

The room smelled of expensive oils and the lingering traces of the Emperors’ presence. You let your fingers trail over the fine fabrics, the polished wood of the writing desk. Your curiosity got the better of you as you wandered, eyes flicking over the scrolls and documents scattered across the room. 

A sealed letter bearing an unfamiliar crest caught your attention, but before you could examine it further, the doors swung open once more.

The Emperors had returned.

At first, your excitement spiked. But then you saw their faces.

The warmth drained from your body as you took in their cold, unreadable expressions.

“What is it?” you asked, voice hesitant. You had forgotten to address them properly in your concern.

Geta was the first to speak. “Before we even left the Colosseum, I had spies watching Macrinus,” he said, voice clipped. “But now, they cannot find him. He has vanished.”

Your stomach twisted.

“Furthermore,” he continued, “the Senate wants Acacius and Lucilla sent away immediately. They fear Macrinus may seek vengeance against them.”

The words struck like a blow. You were at a loss for words, too much information hitting you all at once.

“I have summoned them,” Geta added, finally stepping closer. “You will have a chance to say goodbye.” He lowered himself onto the settee beside you, his presence heavy, commanding.

Caracalla stood a few steps away, arms crossed, jaw tight. “Why do we even listen to those decrepit fools?” he spat suddenly. “What if they were part of Macrinus’ schemes? What if we are sending them away for nothing?”

“It’s impossible,” Geta countered coolly. “They were all questioned, searched—some more thoroughly than others. There is no evidence of their involvement.”

Caracalla’s lip curled in frustration, his fingers twitching at his sides. He was not satisfied. He wanted someone to blame. Someone to bleed.

Geta exhaled through his nose before his gaze softened ever so slightly. He turned to you, eyes dark yet intent. “I meant what I said,” he murmured. “Nothing will happen to you.”

His fingers brushed your chin, tilting your face upward. And then, without warning, he leaned in, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to your forehead.

It was such a simple gesture, yet it unraveled you completely.

Your thoughts blurred, heart pounding at the weight of it all—the danger, the unknown, the raw affection simmering beneath the surface. Everything was moving too fast, yet at the same time, not fast enough.

You wanted to believe Geta.

But Macrinus was out there. Somewhere.

To your surprise, Geta had held you close as you waited for the announcement of Acacius and Lucilla’s arrival. His arm was draped around your shoulders, a silent gesture of comfort, his fingers idly tracing along the fabric of your sleeve. 

Caracalla stood nearby, uncharacteristically quiet, though his presence was no less intense. The weight of the moment pressed down on you like a heavy cloak. You knew this farewell was inevitable, yet that knowledge did nothing to dull the ache in your chest.

When the herald finally arrived to announce their presence, the words barely registered before you were already moving. Geta and Caracalla followed closely behind as you stepped into the throne room, but the moment your eyes locked onto Acacius, everything else faded into the background.

A sob broke from your lips as you tore yourself from Geta’s grasp, rushing across the vast chamber. Acacius barely had time to brace himself before you collided into him. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into the familiar warmth of his embrace, shielding you as though he could somehow keep you here, keep you safe, just a little longer.

You clung to him, shaking, the tears coming too fast to stop. The scent of dust and leather clung to him, the lingering remnants of battle still etched into his presence, but beneath it, he was still your father, the man who had always protected you, the man you had saved.

When he finally pulled back, his calloused hands came up to gently wipe the tears from your cheeks. His own eyes were suspiciously glassy, though he tried to mask it with a reassuring smile.

“Don’t cry,” he murmured, though his voice wavered slightly. “You should be happy.”

You tried to respond, but your throat tightened, making it impossible to form words.

His expression softened further. “You… are happy here, aren’t you?” The question was hushed, almost as though he feared the answer.

You nodded quickly, sniffling. “Very much so,” you whispered. “But I would be happier if you didn’t have to leave.”

Acacius sighed, pressing his forehead against yours, as if grounding himself in this moment. “I know,” he admitted. “But this is the best possible outcome. I wouldn’t have survived if it weren’t for you, my sweet girl.” His grip on you tightened briefly before he added, “I am so proud of you.”

Your vision blurred with fresh tears, but you blinked them back, not wanting to break this moment with more sorrow. Instead, you wrapped your arms around him one last time, committing the feel of him to memory.

When you finally stepped away, it was only to fall into Lucilla’s waiting embrace. She held you just as tightly, her touch delicate but unwavering.

“We will meet again,” you promised her, voice thick with emotion. “I will make sure of it.”

Lucilla nodded, her own eyes glistening, but she said nothing, she didn’t need to. The understanding passed between you unspoken, a quiet vow neither of you would break.

In the background, the Emperors remained silent. For once, they did not intervene, did not press themselves into the moment. They allowed you this- this one last piece of your old life before you fully stepped into your new one.

When Acacius and Lucilla finally turned to leave, a hollow ache settled deep within your chest. Your father was right, this was the best possible outcome. But that didn’t make it any easier.

Your arms felt suddenly empty, your heart weighed down by the knowledge that this palace would never quite feel the same without them in it.

But then, as though sensing the shift within you, Geta and Caracalla reached for you. Their hands found yours, their grips firm, unwavering. Their touch anchored you, steadying you against the tide of sorrow threatening to pull you under.

And slowly, so slowly, the gnawing dread of Macrinus lurking out there began to fade. Not entirely. Not yet.

But for now, you were not alone.

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