#used up all 70 pulls i had saved

[ilseofskadi]

"i'm not going to pull for firefly" i said

"i don't need a fire dps" i said

"i don't even use destruction characters, i don't have any good light cones" i said

"i need to save for hunt!march and fox boy" I SAID

[caffeinewitchcraft]

AITA for going no contact with my brother after he pulled a scare on my husband?

EDIT: For those of you coming here from my brother’s post (X) to shit on me, you look like idiots. Try to have an original thought and really contemplate who’s telling the truth after hearing both sides.

I (32f) am one of three siblings. We come from a very well off family. My dad is a former Cryptid and he pioneered the Hook Man in the 70s, so he still gets residuals off of that. We grew up very comfortable and with the ability to do anything we wanted in life. My older brother went to a very prestigious school and my dad gave him the money for tuition. Because my older brother got scholarships, he was able to save some of that money. Right now he works in human tech (very lucrative), but his long-term plan is to use the money to start a Cyber Spook business once he is satisfied with his knowledge foundation.

I ended up taking a gap year before going to community college, but I never felt anything click. I worked part-time jobs spinning out scarer costumes and even did some part-time work as a slasher before deciding it wasn’t for me. I finally found my calling when I offered to help cater for my high school reunion, and now I run a fairly successful catering business.

When it came time for my younger brother, “Steve,” to get his money, he didn’t tell anyone what he was going to use it for. He was working as a Slasher at a small firm in town. We all assumed he’d either go to Scare School or invest the money to start a business like our older brother did.

So when Steve showed up to Halloween dinner one day, six feet taller with extra joints in his arms and legs, we were all shocked.

Dad was furious. He gave us all the same talk about the scare industry when we got our first part-time jobs documenting missions at his company. He told us that scare work was hard and backbreaking. We couldn’t buy our way into it or use his connections to become successful. If we were interested in it, we had to work our way up from the ground like he did. If we didn’t, we’d more than likely end up dead at the hands of a final girl.

He especially emphasized that mods had to be considered carefully and were NOT a substitute for skill.

Steve thought they were. When his company didn’t pay him back for his body modification AND didn’t promote him from Slasher to Regional Nightmare, he quit. But the surgeries drained his cash and he couldn’t afford his apartment anymore. He had to move back in with Mom and Dad. As always, Mom totally coddled him. She said that he didn’t have to pay rent and agreed with whatever he said when he’d go on these long tirades about his former company.

I could tell Dad wasn’t happy with the arrangement, but he’s never been able to go against Mom. So he mostly kept his mouth shut though he did try to get Steve a job at his old company. However, last I heard, Steve was set against anything corporate and was spending a dozen hours a day driving around using the app SlashDash to find jobs.

About a year and a half ago, I was over for dinner with Steve, Mom and Dad. Steve was talking about work. He said SlashDash wasn’t working out for him and was taking too many fees out. I offered advice since I’d done Slashing in high school. I recommended sites like Scarework and Midnighterr to get more gigs.

Mom told me I interrupted Steve. She gestured for him to continue and tell me about his exciting new setup.

Steve told me he was beyond the sites I recommended. He said he’d bought a scanner so he could listen to broadcasts of active corporate missions. When those fail, he arrives on scene to kill any straggling humans before the scare company in question can send a cleanup crew. And since he’s a Slasher on their scene, they have to give him emergency pay for doing it. It’s a total ambulance-chaser, bottom-feeder move.

Dad was just staring at his plate, not saying anything, but I could tell he was ashamed of Steve. Steve was bragging about being a vulture in the profession Dad helped build.

I asked Steve if he was proud of himself for living off of leftovers. Steve blew up at me, but so did Mom. She chided me for not respecting my brother’s hard work and that his idea to get a scanner was genius, not predatory.

After that dinner, Steve and I rarely talked. Most of the news I got about him came from our older brother bitching about Steve badgering him for scare connections or Mom bragging about Steve killing and “meeting quota.” She would get very cold with me when I told her he was finishing a quota someone else started and not doing his own work. She told me if I couldn’t respect Steve, then I was welcome to not come over while he lived with her.

(Yes, Steve’s always been the golden child.)

I stopped interfering with Steve and focused on my own life. Shortly after, I met my wonderful fiancé “Reginald” while catering an event at Dad’s old company. Reginald is the head of sanitation and he’s the one who gets sent out to clean up any unexpected events during a Scare (like any magical residue or body parts that can’t be explained away through human means). He used to want to be a Cryptid, but he’s got a heart condition that prevents him from working in the field. He says that he’s happy being the “janitor” and happier being with me 😊

Reginald and I got engaged after only eight months of dating. Dad always says that when you know, you know. I invited everyone in my family to an engagement party. Steve didn’t bother answering the invitation. Even though Steve and I weren’t on good terms, I was still hurt when he didn’t show.

When I confronted him about it afterwards, he said that he’d been promoted to Regional Nightmare and he was patrolling his territory, and that’s why he couldn’t come. I asked him what company he was working for, and he said he was still using the scanner.

I pointed out that he couldn’t be a Regional Nightmare without a state license since only the state can assign territories. He started going on and on about being his own “Monster” (and let me tell you, extra joints DOESN’T make you a Monster, those guys are way more committed) and that he had passed the state exam.

When I told Reginald about my brother calling himself a Regional Nightmare, he was concerned. He works closely with the legal department, and he said that Steve is opening himself up to lawsuits by declaring public slashing grounds as his “territory.” He offered to talk to Steve.

We went over to Mom and Dad’s house together to confront him. Dad didn’t know he was calling himself a Regional Nightmare and he went pale when I told them why we were there. Reginald explained to Steve and Mom that being certified was different than being licensed. Legally, Steve is a Slasher even if he can control shadows now (which is a VERY expensive talent to acquire if you aren’t born with it. I think Mom may have paid for it).

The conversation didn’t go well. Steve said a lot of nasty things about Reginald not hacking it as Slasher and claimed he was just jealous. He picked on Reginald’s health which I had me seeing red. I asked Steve what there was to be jealous of since he still mooches off of our parents? Mom got involved and it went downhill from there.

All this to say that I didn’t expect Steve to show up at my gender reveal party less than 5 months later.

Reginald and I weren’t planning on kids this early, but we knew it was meant to be as soon as I got that pregnancy test back. We decided to put off our wedding so that our baby can be part of the ceremony that makes us a family. That being said, I did still have a lot of things ordered for the wedding so I turned the day into a baby shower/gender reveal instead.

That brings us to the party my lovely brother wrote about. First of all, he wasn’t invited by me. Mom invited him, and when I found out, I wasn’t happy with her, considering he never apologized to Reginald after our last fight.

Reginald was stuck at work (some idiot brought together a whole summer camp of final girls and the aftermath was brutal) so I had to force myself to be a good hostess. It was mostly fine. We have good friends and my older brother was very kind in helping me with some of the baby games we were planning to play when Reginald finally got there.

Steve, however, was NOT helpful.

He was annoying the whole time. He messed with the kitchen and he hounded the guests. I’m PREGNANT and the smell of raw meat triggers my gag reflex. He took the meat off the heat without me noticing and basically prevented me from eating lunch with everyone else.

Additionally, Steve claimed in his post that the party was dying??? Reginald and Dad have a lot of friends in common so the party did NOT die. They were all interested in talking to Dad. Dad’s voice is very quiet and raspy from strain over the years, so everyone was being quiet to hear him better. Steve was the one practically screaming over him to talk about his scummy job. The new Hook Man who succeeded Dad was there and Steve basically treated the poor man like a novice even though he’s a Cryptid.

Reginald finally got home and I could tell he was exhausted when I met him at the door. He still put on a smile for me though and said he didn’t need to miss out even when I told him it would be okay. He wanted to be there in our big moment to celebrate our family. He went upstairs to change.

I went back to the guests to tell them that we would start the games soon. That’s when I heard Reginald scream and fall down the stairs.

I’ll never forget the look on Reginald’s face. He was lying at the base of the stairs and looked like he was dying. He was gasping for breath and clutching at his chest. I was terrified his heart was giving up. I asked Hook Man to call an ambulance.

That’s when Steve started laughing.

I lost it. I screamed at Steve to get out. He told me to calm down, he’d just scared Reginald a little bit as a joke. I told him he knew about Reginald’s heart condition and that it was incredibly disrespectful to scare my fiancé in our own house.

He said he didn’t mean to scare him that bad, but that he was just better at it than he thought. His scares were too powerful. He seemed smug and was still laughing.

I accused him of intentionally hurting Reginald because of the licensing versus certification argument we had. I said he was a bully and an idiot.

Mom jumped in and said it was an accident.

Dad FINALLY said something. He shadow-walked (the first time in YEARS) up the stairs and hooked Steve by the neck. He dragged all twelve feet of him down the stairs and told him to get out.

Steve said, “For what? It’s not my fault that weak-hearted son of a bitch can’t take a joke.”

Dad lost it. He told Steve a REAL scarer wouldn’t use their abilities like that on their own families. He told Mom and Steve it didn’t matter if he meant it as a joke. The fact is he used his scare tactics on a layperson, and he could get blacklisted from the profession for it.

Dad kicked Steve out and told him he wasn’t welcome back into the basement until he got a REAL job. Steve kept arguing, but the paramedics arrived then and I lost track of the rest of it.

I went with Reginald to the hospital where Reginald insisted we both get checked out. The stress wasn’t good for the baby and doctor told me it might be best to go on maternity leave sooner rather than later. Reginald is also going to be taking a leave from work. He had a heart attack because of my brother.

Things could have ended worse, but they didn’t end well. I told my parents that I refuse to have Steve at my wedding or even to see my child after they’re born (and now I STILL don’t know the gender! Only our older brother knows since he got the gender reveal cake).

Mom started to protest, but Dad said he understood. He said that both he and Mom just wanted me to be happy and healthy and that they would take care of Steve.

So now I leave it up to you. Having read both of our posts, who do you think is the real asshole? My brother for being “proud” of scaring my fiancé into a heart attack at our baby’s gender reveal party? Or me for never talking to said brother again for the health of my future family?

AITA?

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See you next week!

This week's story is based on this (x) prompt from Writing-prompt-s:

You are a person who covers your counter space in clutter and inadvertently makes a shrine to a long forgotten god who shows up to thank you.

[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.

[babyblankyerror]

On the Stanley hit man thing(please note 1: prices are at least semi accurate to the 70s and 2: I have no idea how hitmen work and there’s only so many google searches I’m willing to have in my history. Also the name of The Guy is a reference to an actual person who was related to an actual big US government fuck up):

Rubbing soap and water into well-worn gloves in some gas station bathroom in the middle of the night was, at this point, a new normal for Stanley. There were better ways to do this, he knew that, but patience and a horrifying amount of soap did the job just fine. Better than leaving the gloves on the ground where someone might stumble across them and realise there are small dried splatters on them.

The best way to get blood out of fabric was to wash it out quickly. Flood it with water, then scrub soap into it and try to wear through it with paper towel after paper towel until the water runs clear. It was a similar method to removing paint from a roller or shirt. That meant that Stan could just pretend he’d messed up on some project, for an art class or something. Or was messing around with his brother's paints. There was only so well that could work after years of the same routine, but it still worked so there was no reason to change it.

As he ran the gloves under the faucet again, the water flowed only carrying suds. No more damning pinkish hue. Now he just had to dry them, and that could be done back in the Stanley-Mobile.

First he’d have to leave the gas station. Then call the number given to him last week when he got the job and tell them it was done. He’d learn where to meet them to get the back half of his payment, then he could see how to split it. Enough to keep going went to him, a little bit went towards saving in case of an emergency, and the rest went to his dork of a brother.

The first step, out of all of them, was always the hardest. There are only so many ways you can hide sopping wet gloves, especially when it’s warm enough out that you can’t just wear a bulky jacket with inner pockets.

He folded them in half, longways, and put one in each of his pant pockets. It was as inconspicuous as he could get.

Stan hurried to the door of the bathroom, before opening it at a much more reasonable speed and meandered out of the gas station store. He took special care to walk in plain view on his way out. As much as he’d love to skirt around the edge of the store to keep out of view, that would only look suspicious and risk drawing attention.

As the store door closed behind him he let his shoulders drop slightly and fished his gloves out of his pocket as well as his keys. His car was parked right outside so there was no need to separate the actions.

Unlocking the door he sat down in the driver’s seat. He already had a small towel on the passenger side of the bench seats. He dropped the gloves on the towel before swinging his door shut, sticking his key in the ignition, and starting the engine. There was a pay phone a few blocks down, but having just left the store he should still move his car.

It was funny how despite about… three years, he wants to say, he still was always on edge after a job. It made sense, considering that the jobs he took consisted of killing people, but it was still a lot of time to adjust to it. At least the pay was good, and he had ways to get through the actual murder part.

Just line up the shot, and count to three. If you make it to three you might chicken out and fail, or if you aren’t sure of aim you might panic since they keep breathing after the shot. Not to mention you leave a distinctive trace of who’s done it with the bullet. But guns left less room for regret and letting them live than knives or fists. It helped that he pulled the trigger on two, before his mind could catch up to what he was doing. By the time he was weighing whether or not he should do it, he was already checking to see if any blood was on him. Usually just his hands if he got close, but on occasion a drop or two would land elsewhere on him.

Shoes he filed the treads off left no recognizable prints as he would walk away.

The drive to the pay phone was silent beyond the low rattling of the engine. Shifting gears and parking the car was so automatic that if he was asked if he’d done it or not he genuinely wouldn’t know the answer. He took a few coins out of the cup holder and a note from where it was tucked into his front visor.

The air had the everpresent heat of summer, only cut through by a slight wind. He vaguely wondered if it was similar weather where Ford was. Sure Indiana was northeast of Arkansas, but it couldn’t account for that great of a change in weather. Especially since there would be enough plants to keep the heat in at night as opposed to if Ford was in the desert out West. Ford should have been in the desert out West, or at least just near it. He’d driven through the west coast once, it went from desert to a small bit of forest by the coast.

He slotted a coin into the phone and punched in the numbers written on the little sheet of paper. It rang for a few moments before someone answered with a tired ‘hello’. Made sense, it was probably around midnight.

“Is this S Higgins?” Stanley asked, staring up at the sky. The town was big enough that the lights faded some of the stars out. Probably for the best, Ford always liked the stars and it was best to not think about Ford when on the call with a client. His voice got too soft, and when your voice gets soft suddenly everything is up for negotiation.

“It is. I take it, you've done it?” The voice on the other end of the line replies. Always with euphemisms and never saying what they asked for. They wanted someone dead and now they’re dead, and he’s the only one that has to face it.

“Yup. You can check; Kelly on York street- dead center of Warren.” Stan says. He knows they won’t check, but it’s always best to give the information so there’s never any doubt he’s done it. It’ll be in the headlines anyways, Warren doesn’t seem like a place where a double homicide goes unreported on. A lovey dovey couple who just so happened to know a few details problematic to an ongoing political career.

“Is Ray’s in Monticello in three days good for you?” Came from the phone, crackly and disconnected. Three days, enough time for news and an investigation to start. Also enough time to plan out where to go next. There were certain people who talked, and it was through that grapevine his name got spread around. Or more accurately his license plate and car’s description did, it was not exactly inconspicuous, and with that ways to contact him. He just had to go wherever people who knew people that might want someone dead were. So pretty much anywhere, but he’d been thinking about seeing New Orleans so maybe he’d head there. And if nothing came up he was certain to find something in Mobile.

“Around lunch?” He asked. The least suspicious time of day. You could openly talk about his work at lunch and it would be taken as a joke. Because it’s the middle of the day and no actual plots could ever take place in the middle of the day.

“See you then.” The words came out and were quickly followed by a clack and silence. He set the phone up and made his way back to the Stanley-Mobile.

Monticello was less than twenty miles away. He could get there and get a motel room that night. But Warren was a small town and the newcomer disappearing the night of two murders would put the cops on his tail, so he swung around and headed back towards the motel he’d gotten a room at here.

The fact he didn’t immediately collapse meant he must have been running on adrenaline, and so rather than fight it for sleep he got his things packed. He’d sleep in and leave at a reasonable time in the morning before heading to Monticello. That seemed ideal.

———

Over the next couple days the only notable occurrences were the headlines about what he’d done, and him visiting the Allen House. From murder to the suicide house tourist trap. Way to go him!

Stanley had to admit though, while the ‘hauntedness’ of the Allen House left something to be desired he enjoyed the fun romp. He could do it better if he wanted to, but that would mean getting a house which would probably require legal documents that were left back in the apartment on top of a pawn shop in Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey. Or he could do it illegally, which was much more likely, but at this point too much of a hassle when his current gig worked just fine.

Noon was approaching though so he turned on the Stanley-Mobile and headed towards Ray’s.

The diner was somewhat cosy despite having a metal back wall that looked like that of a storage container. Probably the warm lighting, benches, and soft music playing from a radio on the counter. He grabbed a table by a window, staring out of it to wait.

After a few dozen minutes of nothing he decided to go ahead and order some fries and a burger, making sure it wasn’t enough he could reasonably eat. He got a to-go bag after picking at them for what he deemed a good amount of time.

It was maybe another half hour or a bit longer when he watched a slightly too-clean Pacer roll up. A man who looked like he’d just been told what ‘casual’ meant last night stepped out and headed towards the diner. That was, without a doubt, Higgins then.

When he walked in the door Stanley waved him over, calling his name with a slight cheer as the man came over.

“You did… the job.” Higgins muttered, pulling a chair opposite Stanley’s spot on a padded bench and shuffling to sit down.

“I did. It’s on the news if you need to check.” Stanley said, leaning back slightly.

“I… I already saw the news. I have the money.” Higgins said, pausing to hum and haw before continuing, “Three thousand, right? Here, in cash.” Higgins said, reaching into a pocket on the inside of his clearly not weather appropriate jacket. And right. Stanley really should remember to get checks and not cash. Checks were easy to hide, especially since he went about being a contract killer in the dumbest way. Instead of just getting in with one group and staying there with a consistent pay and a good public facing business set up for him, he traveled around and essentially worked commission. Granted he got his start making enemies, so maybe staying in one place wasn’t the best. Especially when he could then work for just about anyone he deemed not an immediate risk, instead of just one organization. No matter what though, he should get better about checks instead of cash. Too late now though. Stanley held his palm out and felt a small stack of hundred dollar bills hit his hand, with no small amount of worry. He clutched the bills and tilted his palm down, hiding them from any quick glances.

Stanley dropped the bills into the to go bag as he reached in, and pulled out a small container with the fries.

“I have extra if you want.” He said, opening the lid and turning them towards Higgins. The man seemed to writhe in his chair, face morphing into a performance of guilt. He was certainly new to this. Higgins got up with a rushed apology and excuse of having to get back home. Stanley watched him go and placed the fries back in the bag. Well, to the bank then. He should deposit the cash slowly, he knows this, but he’s fairly certain that the new semester is starting m at Backupsmore which means Ford will need to be spending his money on textbooks. Which means Stanley is going to be extra sure to pay for his tuition.

Stanley’s pretty sure he caught an article about Ford and some other guy proving something or other about the universe, and a few more campus newspapers mentioning the two of them spending time together. So his brother finally made a friend! He’d drive up and hug the nerd out of pride if he weren’t certain Ford wouldn’t be too willing to speak to him. He did figure though, that he had enough saved for an emergency that what he’d usually cut out of his pay for à ‘just in case’ could go to Ford’s friend instead. A brief line of phone books and library visits, as well as word of mouth, made it clear that the guy was also the first of his family to go to college. And was riding on a couple scholarships in order to just cover tuition, but probably still had to take out a loan or two. He wasn’t going to risk Ford’s friend having to drop out and leave him alone due to finances.

The face of the bank teller was of mild confusion when he went to deposit five hundred dollars. Just because he wasn’t waiting to deposit the money didn’t mean he was an idiot. He was just going to spend the day hopping between a few banks to do it in chunks. Stil suspicious on paper but he has a current guise of being ‘an artist’ so sudden large deposits because he ‘sold a painting’ at least didn’t get too many questions.

At the end of it all he ended up sending one thousand five hundred to Ford’s annual tuition, so he should be set for a while longer. Though the idiot of a genius was taking twelve different full courses and each individual course has its own lesser tuition so it wasn’t the full semester it would have been if his brother knew how to stop. Frankly that had been the main reason he’d stepped in, Ford probably could have managed the tuition for one or even two or three courses on his own but somewhere in his mind he’d decided that taking twelve was a good idea. Stanley’s sure Ford could have figured it out, but that’s his brother and he didn’t want Ford to have to figure it out.

He sent seven hundred to Ford's friends’ tuition after some double checking names, and so the apparent Fiddleford McGucket had one less thing to worry about.

That meant he had eight thousand remaining, he wouldn’t have to take another job for a while. A long while. Maybe he just goes to New Orleans as a vacation.

~~~~~~

Ford and Fiddleford were staring at the Backupsmore administrator. They’d gone to check up on what they had to pay for tuition, only to find out that not only had Ford’s gotten a significant amount paid(which was becoming an odd yet consistent occurrence) but Fiddleford’s as well.

The money had been wired in, which meant whoever sent it had a known bank account, but had apparently mandated anonymity. As far as the school administrators were aware, it could have been the king of England sending the money.

The walk back to their dorm was shared in stunned silence. It wasn’t until Ford was sitting on his bed that Fiddleford stopped pacing and stared out the window before gripping his hair and yelling, in the whisper yell mandates by shared walls, cried out.

“WHAT in the world is GOIN’ ON.”

Fiddleford turned to Ford, lowering his hands to gesture in confused annoyance.

“Well, we know whoever is sending this must have a lot of money on hand. And we have been covering a lot of neuroscience, and specifically how to alter brains- right? It’s probably some larger entity with stakes in our current research.” Ford posed, though his voice still tilted with unsureness.

“True, but you started getting the payments before the whole tie thing. So there must have been some sort of investment before then.” Fiddleford argued. Ford shrugged.

“I mean, I suppose the sheer number of courses I was taking may have been noteworthy?” He offered.

Fiddleford began to pace muttering to himself, before an idea seemed to strike him.

“Hey, if we can get into the school records and figure out what bank the money has been being wired from, maybe we can call them and ask for information?” Fiddleford suggested. Ford took a moment to think through the idea, before grinning and jumping up.

“Exactly! Even if we can’t get a name, we’ll still get a rough area and we can go through phone books until we find someone who has a ridiculous amount of disposable cash and a vested interest in both of us!” He exclaimed.

They were probably going to have to break into an office or something, hopefully childhood shenanigans with… his childhood shenanigans would help with that.

Bro you need to publish this on ao3 or post it on tumblr or SOMETHING because HOLY SHIT?!??!?!

THIS is exactly what I was imagining for the Au!!! This is fuckkng great!!! I LOVE LOVE THIS AND YOU AND AAAAAAAA

I imagine Fiddleford doesn't really worry about the random money Ford gets until HE starts getting it too. Then yeah he's freaking out because WHAT THE HECK??

I love this you wrote this so well, so nice and omg??? You did research??? That's more than I'd ever do XD

[yrqrnc]

𖤐 ִֶָ 𓂃 STRAY KIDS : SMILING WEIRD AT THEM UNTIL THEY NOTICE

genre: fluff, crack, pranks

pairing: skz x reader

bringing the tiktok pranks back bcs i need funny headcanon ideas to write 😁🙏🏻

some member's parts might be a bit shorter than the rest bcs i wrote some while being sugar high at 2:50 in the morning so pls excuse that

leave comments, reblog, and feedbacks pls <3

𖤐 CHAN : —

is 70% concerned 30% holding his laugh

you approached him and started a normal conversation on a very normal thursday afternoon so he thought everything was nice and ok in the house and with you???

he guesses not, a minute or two into the talk 😟

bcs why are you smiling at him in a way that would summon his sleep paralysis demon at night???

he already sleeps so less now he fears he will have to sleep even less.

is too worried to say anything about it because what if this is actually your true smile and you’re just getting comfortable around him and he hurts your feelings by making a comment about it?

right????

but he’s also starting to get scared because wHAT HAPPENED TO HIS BABY YOU’VE NEVER DONE THIS BEFORE 😭😭😭 WHAT WENT WRONG ⁉️

PLS BRING THEM BACK 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

doesn’t say anything but gets so tensed during the convo and gives you this look that has you breaking character shortly after, bcs you burst out laughing and going back to that cute big smile he was used to and the one he adored.

(sorry, writer-break-in: now if anyone comments abt how they ugly laugh, i’m gonna smash my guitar on your head. chris says that’s cute, so it’s cute. you don’t get a say.)

then he’s like “oh ☺️ that’s it. here they are <3”

thinks about it when he lays in his bed at night tho

might make him rethink everything and consider your health (mental & physical) for a couple days 😕👎🏻

𖤐 MINHO : —

right, ok. so, he notices it so quick

this man is VERYYY very very observant and he knows you like the back of his hand

so the moment you flash your worst smile as he’s in the midst of talking, taking just the chance when he looked to the side for a sec—

he catches it from his peripheral vision, snaps his head at you and he goes 🤨⁉️ (15% concerned 85% judging)

stares at you silently for a while after that, trying to figure you out

🧍🏻😾❓️ (yes.)

when you act completely normal and ask him why he stopped, telling him to continue and all that, he cautiously goes back to saying what he had been talking about

but then you pull your shit again and he catches it this time too right away

(bcs he’s always looking at you when he’s talking. he looks at you when you’re talking too. he looks at you. he just loves looking at you, that’s honestly it. bro is just an eye-contact and make their knees weak type of person)

and he knows he isn’t high

looks straight at you and goes — “what’s wrong with this one... 😐”

and you’re all like “what??? 😠🦿🦿 what’s wrong w me???” bcs how dare he say that in that tone

“why are u making yourself look like that plushie whose face doongie scratched up last week”

LMAOOOO 😭😭😭 SAVE YOURSELF

so you’re throwing hands now (& terribly failing) and this is the only part of your stupid prank that minho is finding fun

𖤐 CHANGBIN : —

HELP.

doesn’t know if he should laugh or cry someone pls take him away from you 🙁🙏🏻

he’s just casually telling you about this sick rap that he came up with yesterday night in the studio

and you’re nodding and laughing, and he turns to focus on you more and finds you like: 😁 i mean 👹???

and the lOOK THAT PASSES THROUGH HIS EYES AND THE WAY HIS SMILE DROPS SO SLOWLY

WITH AN EYE TWITCH TOO

LORD HELP ME

no HELP SEO CHANGBIN ACTUALLY

bro freezes but then he tries to play it chill, chuckling and being like “right... 😄☝🏻 hahah hahahahah so i was saying... ”

but you keep doing it and he can’t ignore it anymore 😔

“...baby what’s wrong? do you feel sick?” and that too in such a scared voice yOU CAN'T KEEP UP THE ACT ANYMORE

once you tell him it’s a prank, relief washes over him like cold water on a scorching hot summer day and he laughs along with you

might haunt him when he’s alone in his studio at midnight tho

𖤐 HYUNJIN : —

judges you.

no i’m not even gonna try to be funny first

HE JUDGES 👨‍⚖️

you do it and he instantly goes “😦😣 what the fuck”

and you’re like “what? what happened?”

and he doesn’t even know what to say

then he switches up just as quickly and starts yapping again

but you do it again too

and he’s so fed up he goes “dude tf wrong w u 🙄”

and when you keep doing it, he starts iMITATING YOU TO MOCK YOU😭😭

now you’re both just flaring your teeth and gums at each other while cackling in between too, and anyone watching would’ve started praying honestly

later that day, after finding out it was a prank he’s just thinking... why is my partner like this... 😟

he loves u tho <3

𖤐 JISUNG : —

honestly bro...

he finds you adorable :(

like, you guys are casually talking one evening

and he’s telling you about this new anime he watched recently, that almost made him cry

and he’s telling you the amazing sad plot and all, and out of nowhere you just 😁

first he’s really caught off guard bcs... girl (gn!) what 😟 i said??? i almost???? CRIED??? HEARTBREAK?????

but then he just looks at you as you keep up w the goofiness when he speaks again, and he thinks to himself

:(“i love this idiot so much even tho i do feel half irritated and offended right now”

bcs even if you’re pulling your ugliest smile rn, he loves that sparkle in your eyes as you stifle a laugh back and the way almost break character everytime you make eye contact with him

sorry guys this is getting soft but

jisung just loves you very much ☹️☹️☹️

prank is all forgotten, you are just two young people in love <3

𖤐 FELIX : —

i would say he already knows what the trend is, but that’s really boring so let’s pretend that he’s actually getting fooled here.

the moment he sees u doing it, that epic felix thing happens again— where his smile gradually just drops and he has that :0 face in the funniest way

he isn’t sure if he should speak bcs what if that unleashes more of that demon in u 😓

he’s torn between two things actually: should he hug you and try to squish the demonic smile out of you, or should be just stay away and give u your space until ur okay again

bcs he isn’t sure about how fine you are with the way you’re smiling at him right now

he might just be like:

“haha hahahahah hahahah ok we laughed now can we pls have my partner and their sweet smile back 🙁”

genuinely doesn’t know what to do

half of him is scared, half finds you very cute, some other bits are thinking of ways to get back on a a prank of his lololololz

he decides to continue speaking bcs maybe you’ll get distracted by the talk and come back to him normally again

doesn’t happen. so now he’s just there and thinking abt how to fix u 😞🙏🏻

𖤐 SEUNGMIN : —

you hate him

you hate him so bad

he doesn’t give you any reaction AT ALL 😐👎🏻

you start off gentle at first, right, like doing it when he wasn’t looking and then gradually more intensely and so he could clearly see

but nothing. no weird looks. no comments. no judgement.

NOTHING AT ALL?!^#^*@#,

at some point you get all up in his face and you’re like 😁😁😁👹😁😁😁👹😁😁❓️❓️❓️

and mf just keeps talking like nothing is wrong or off

it gets you more and more frustrated with each passing second but man, if you’d put that irritation aside and looked more closely into his facial expressions,

you would’ve seen the way the corner of his mouth lifted in the slightest and that glint of mischief in his eye

but you don’t 🙄

when you finally give up and go “babe why aren’t you asking me why i’m smiling weird??? 😕”

he... he says... he’s like—

“huh? but don’t you always smile like that?”

damn y/n 😥💔 that’s how it was huh

you’re abt to poke his eyeballs out and then shit tears yourself

jk dw tho he’s just teasing you

he stays with felix enough to know about these ideas

and from how you’ve done multiple pranks on him before, everytime you do something weird or out of place now, he just assumes you’re onto some prank

𖤐 JEONGIN : —

HE GETS SCARED PLS DONT😭

NO LIKE he actually starts taking it in all the wrong ways

when he sees you smiling like that.. there’s this STORM of emotions that starts cooking up inside him 😭

“are they ok” “are they mad at me and trying to play it off” “is this a trick move” “is this a prank and if so how should i react that it would make me seem cool and—”

but then... SUDDENLY

he suddenly remembers this piece of information he read on the internet LONG time back, like, AGES ago !! that said like

if someone is having a stroke or about to, their smile will be crooked / really weird and off/abnormal

....

no way... right ?

HIS BABY 😟😕🥺🥺😭😭😭 (emojis are satire im not—)

“...baby 😨😰 i think... i think you’re about to have a stroke 😣 or ARE YOU HAVING IT ALREADY 😰😢😢 HAS IT STARTED😭⁉️”

now ur not sure if u should stop or continue and whether u should laugh, cry or bonk him in the head

but he’s just a jeongin 🙁🎀

[assignedmale]

Hello everyone! Our heads still aren't above the water after our heating troubles from last winter - quite literally, since our basement is now flooding because of the snow melting - and it's never easy for me to bring this up, but we could really use some help. We've been without heating for two whole months now because of this!

Thank you!

xx Sophie

***

Four years ago, my husband and I moved into a crumbling historical rural schoolhouse near the Arctic, with the intent of turning it into an art residency for queer and trans artists. We actually welcomed our first artist guests last year! This was going great, until the heating bills literally doubled in 2022 because of the geopolitical situation. To add to this situation, our basement flooded twice last year, destroying our furnace and drying up our savings.

Then starting last December, a record-shattering cold wave paralyzed our country and more specifically our region, which recorded some of the coldest temperatures on the planet, for several weeks. At the same time, the radiators of our old house that dated from the 70s decided to give up. We had to get new ones installed in emergency, to avoid further tragedies.

For the past few weeks, as the sole provider for our growing family, I've been trying to make up for these events by pulling all-nighters, scraping pennies and trying to sell as many books as I could. However, even with time extensions, bill deadlines are approaching and I must face the fact that there is no way we can save our home without some help.

(...)

Despite barely paying a living wage, we believe in the work that we do. The well-being of trans and queer communities is what drives us to create art and share our spaces. Our wish is to keep creating despite these events. However, this might not be possible if we lose our home.

[love-toxin]

Seóirse Commission

a/n: a commission i did for one of my lovely commissioners! <33 cws: afab!darling, meet cute, pwp, size difference, heat/rut cycles, mating, scent kink, breeding, dirty talk, rough sex, m on f oral, groping, chokehold. word count: 5.1k

Today would be the day you finally did it. You'd made your choice–you were going to learn how to swim, even if it killed you. 

In retrospect, it wasn't the greatest of your many ideas. Swimming was a useful skill of course, and it might save you if you ever found yourself stranded somewhere or were somehow dropped into the ocean by the powers that be. But finding adult classes to learn how was both difficult and expensive, unless you wanted to pay to do water aerobics with a group of 70-year-old women…which actually didn't sound that bad when you thought about it. Regardless, you'd seen enough videos of parents chucking their babies into pools to feel confident enough to try it all on your own. In the ocean. On the beach. It couldn't be all bad–it was free, wasn't it?

Alas, that was how you found yourself in your current predicament, with a swollen ankle and your fingers gripping the buoy you'd managed to drag yourself up on. There were far more rocks than you expected on the bottom, and after trying to keep your balance against the unexpected strength of the current, you'd rolled your ankle on a loose one and yelped in pain before being swept up by one of the foamy waves that had lapped at your feet on the shore. It brought you right out into open water in what felt like an instant, and in a panic you started splashing and paddling for dear life. No amount of deep breaths could quell the overwhelming feeling of “I'm going to die” until your wild flailing eventually caused you to smack your hand on the buoy, and you scrambled to cling to it without thinking twice. 

As grateful as you were to have avoided a painful and sudden drowning, the assessment of your new circumstances was quick to bring tears to your eyes and a sniffle as you glanced around. Aside from the steadily moving shoreline that seemed to shrink the more the waves jostled the buoy, a look over your shoulder exposed the vast expanse of a wide, unending sea that would surely swallow you whole at the first opportunity. Sharks, whales, drop offs, whirlpools, anything and everything could kill you in an instant and each possibility appeared more horrifying than the last. It almost felt more hopeless to cry in the face of such daunting odds–after all, the shore was right there. Still close enough to swim back to. But you had no reassurance that you could fight the sea's luring pull out into the deep, and without that, you most certainly were not moving an inch off of this buoy. 

Luckily, you wouldn't have to. Right at the pinnacle of your sorrow when all seemed absolutely lost, a dark shape moved beneath the waves towards you…and at the very last moment, a head breached the surface and a man sucked in a deep breath as he peered up at your pitiful face.

“Are you okay?” His soft voice carried a twinge of sympathy, because he knew. It must've been obvious by your expression that you were anything but, all you had to do was shake your head to confirm it. “That's okay. You're safe now.”  

You noticed at first glance the way his blue eyes glinted under the overcast sky, but even more captivating was his hair; his silver locks had been slicked back by the water and a few strands twisted as the breeze blew them against his flushed cheeks, yet he looked so young at the same time that he almost struck you as having a baby face. There was no way he was over 40, but by his size and the gentle maturity of his voice you could tell he wasn't any average man in his twenties, nor could he be a teenager. His eyes locked in on your ankle, and without touching it he hovered his fingers over the swollen patch. 

“Looks twisted,” He mused under his breath. “Here, I'll help you down-” The stranger held out his huge arms to help you off the platform, but when you clung harder to it with a whimper he drew back instantly with a worried gleam in his eyes. “What's wrong? You don't want to get in the water?” 

A firm shake of your head said all that needed to be said. He let out a soft sigh, but he wasn't irritated–rather he seemed bothered by your apprehension itself, and wanted to make sure you felt secure. 

“Well…I see. Are you a strong swimmer?” 

“N-No..” With how shaken you looked, he was surprised you even answered. 

“Oh, that's alright. Why don't I carry you on my back? You can keep your head above water, and keep warm.” Sniffling softly, you peered down at him with a glimmer of hope.

“Are you sure?” 

“Of course.” He nodded happily. “There's nothing to be afraid of. We'll be back to dry land in no time.” The way he smiled up at you, how he held the buoy firmly in his hands and it resisted the current with his bare strength alone, all put you at ease with a haste that you'd rarely experienced from any other person, especially from a man you didn't know at all. He seemed kind. Humble. Maybe even one of those awkward yet friendly types, but in a good way. It was too easy for you to give up your name to the enigmatic stranger, but he replied with enthusiasm and a light splash as he kept treading water.

“I'm Seóirse. I'm a swimming instructor at the community pool, so I promise you're in good hands!” Seóirse chuckled meekly. “Just climb on my back, and I'll get you back home.” 

So you did. Awkwardly, and cringing with pain at the jostling of your sore ankle, but you managed to slide off the buoy with Seóirse's help and slip back into the dreaded water. He let you pull your arms round his shoulders and tugged your wrist for you to squeeze them closer to his neck, reassuring you with a smile that you wouldn't choke him. As soon as you were secure, he started paddling towards the shore–and it amazed you that, even with how massive he was compared to any man you'd ever known, he glided through the water with you like the current was nothing but a breeze against his skin. He managed to keep your head above water with each stroke and squeezed your thigh on his hip when your breath started hitching, assuaging your fears when you thought you saw something moving about in the sea around you. 

Although it felt like it took ten times as long to get back to land than it did to get dragged out to sea, you reached the shore before you even knew it was happening and tightened your grip on Seóirse once the heaviness of gravity set in upon him stepping up out of the shallows. Your squirming in anticipation of being put down just made him laugh; he held both your legs up and bounced you to get you higher up on his back, so your cheek rubbed against the silky strands of his damp, dripping hair. 

“That ankle needs to rest. My home isn't far–I can treat you there, if you like?” The question poked at your mind while he moved further up on the shore, the sand slipping out from under his feet though he managed to keep steady with your weight on him. You had to admit, it certainly sounded better than sitting in a hospital for hours waiting to be seen, especially for something that wasn't all that serious in the first place. 

“Um…uh, yeah.” Unconsciously, you nuzzled yourself closer to Seóirse's warm body and clung to him in the cold. The breeze from the overcast day cooled the water clinging to your skin in an instant, and left you feeling frigid and shivering as you both dripped all the way down the beach. He managed to bend down and grab the handle of your bag that you'd left on the rocks without having to set you down, and hooked it around his elbow to carry along before he continued towards a little cottage at the shore's end. If there wasn't anything else you could say about the rather enigmatic stranger, you could say this; he was incredibly strong, and it was difficult not to notice the flex of his toned muscles with every step he took while you were pressed against his body so intimately. 

It took less than ten minutes to reach the little home on the edge of the sea. A grassy outcrop at the end of the shore propped up the humble abode he called his own; he didn't even mind the water dripping in the foyer as he carried you in, reassuring you that it was no big deal and he tracked in all sorts of things you wouldn't believe. Seóirse brought you into a little sitting room off to the right and laid you down on a huge, comfy sofa, where he proceeded to fuss over you for an hour or more with ice and blankets and a towel to dry your hair. 

Of course he wanted to know why you–a person he'd never even seen around here before–was swimming out to sea on such an overcast day, especially since he knew for sure now that you were by no means a practiced athlete in that sense. It took a bit of prodding for him to ease it out, but when you finally admitted that you wanted to learn how to swim, he didn't click his tongue or lecture you on your poor methods of doing so. In fact, he smiled.

“Well, why don't I teach you?” The way his eyes brightened at the thought alone made your heart ache with the desire to say ‘yes’. “We can swim together. I don't get to go out in the ocean as much as I'd like, anyways..” He peered out almost longingly at the water through the window, churning and foamy and frightening-looking to anyone who wasn't so confident in the ocean. But he was. Nobody else would come to the rescue of a stranger from so far out if the water wasn't like a second skin to him. 

“I…o-okay. If that's alright with you?” You almost didn't want to accept for fear of acting greedy with his generous offer, but it was hard enough to say no to those sweet, gentle eyes. “Can I pay you?”

“Don't worry about it.” Seóirse rubbed your hand just to squeeze it in his giant palm. God, his smile was just blinding. He was like a living sunbeam. “We're friends now. You'd be doing me a favour, too.”

There wasn't much to argue with that. Seóirse made sure you were warmed up, ensured you could get home safely, and gave you his phone number before he sent you off. You had no idea just how prevalent his presence would be in your life from that day on, or how much he would go on to change everything you knew about your own world itself.

“Seóirse?” You called out softly, rapping your knuckles on his door yet again. With your bag slung over your shoulder and your hoodie on, you were more than ready for your weekly session together. 

But Seóirse hadn't answered your texts for two days, and you feared something might've happened to him. He was always so timely with his responses unless he was working, and even then you'd hear from him after an hour or two when he'd send you an apology, because he'd been tied up with a student or was doing an extra lesson in the pool. He'd never ignore you completely, and although you didn't want to pry you didn't want to just give up without making sure he was alright.

“Hey, Seóirse? Are you okay?” Knock knock. “It's me. I'm worried about you–if you're okay, can you come out?” 

Suddenly a thump resonated from inside the cottage and you jumped, shifting a half-step back as your mind raced. Was he getting robbed? Did he fall and hurt himself? 

“S-Seóirse?” 

“Go away.” His voice rumbling so close to the door startled you again, and you nearly slipped off the step, but if anything the raspiness of it made you infinitely more worried. It sounded as if he had pressed himself completely up against the door with how close he was, and you caught a whiff of something–it grew stronger and stronger as you took it in, a musky, heady scent that you could nearly taste with how thickly it hung in the air. 

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I haven't heard from you in-” A slow, soft grunt hit your ears in a funny way, his breathing deep enough it stopped you in your tracks. “...days.” 

It'd been several weeks since you'd first met Seóirse out at sea, and each day since then you'd had some kind of contact with your new friend. Whether through texts, calls, or meeting in person, your mind automatically went to him whenever you had something to do or wanted to feel a little less alone. He was so kind if a bit reserved, and that was fine with you, but this wasn't the first time you suspected that something was…off.

The real reason for that was the thing you had found by accident while searching through his attic for a space heater. It was small and cramped, far too tight for Seóirse's enormous body to squeeze into comfortably, and he'd let you up a few weeks ago when a cold front moved in and chilled you down right to the bone. Maybe being so huge, the cold didn't bother him as much, but when you came over for dinner he'd mentioned he might have a heater and let you climb up to search for it. But as you were dragging it out from the far corner, your foot bumped a box out from its hiding place and you'd dived to catch it before it fell down the hatch you'd climbed through. It wasn't really your fault for opening it, since it was already half-cracked…but when you peered inside out of curiosity, what awaited you was something you never would've expected. 

You could tell by looks alone that it was blubber, perhaps some sort of rubbery pelt from an animal as you touched it and felt the skin spring back. It was so pretty, so unusually soft it was almost slick, it gleamed without any light…when you lifted it you could guess it might be sealskin, but before you unfolded it completely, Seóirse called up suddenly from the bottom of the ladder and asked if everything was okay. It might've been a case of you projecting your own feelings, but you almost sensed a hint of panic in his voice as you shut the box with a snap and hurriedly tucked it back into its place. You wouldn't have thought much else of it and might've forgotten it completely by the time you climbed back down the ladder. But you caught your friend's sigh of relief when he saw the space heater in your arms, and when you headed down to the dining room you heard the muffled creak and a small shake of dust as someone else made his way up to the attic to double check. Only once he returned did things go back to normal, but you thought of that incident a lot, and paired with his behaviour now, and the scent…well, you had some ideas of what might be happening with your friend. And an online search had reaffirmed your convictions just days before he disappeared.

“S'nothing..” Seóirse sighed faintly. “...’m fine. I'll be fine.” 

Obviously he could sense your trepidation, but maybe he wasn't expecting how determined you would be to inject yourself into his private affairs. There was a bit of guilt welling up inside you for prodding so much, but how could you help it? 

“I'm gonna hurt you if you come in here,” He muttered at the twisting of the doorknob as you tried it to see if it would open. As if he was dumb enough not to lock his doors during this time of the month. 

“You'd never hurt me.”

“I might not have a choice.” He growled, guttural and almost feral, like he was more animal than man. “Leave.”

“I can't.” You insisted, just to flinch at the sound of his fist slamming against the doorframe. “I-I can't, Seóirse. I know you're in pain.”

“I can smell you.” He sucked in a breath of air through his teeth. “You smell so good..” 

“Something's going on. I know you're not…like me.” You leaned closer to whisper, hoping he would hear it over the erratic thumping of his own heart. “I know you came from the sea. I want you to know that I don't care about that–I won't judge you, and I won't tell another soul what you are.”

The silence that followed was grim, heavy, dark like the clouds that were slowly gathering overhead. You'd get rained on if you didn't get inside soon, though what Seóirse uttered next raised the hairs on your neck faster than any oncoming lightning. 

“I'm in heat.” He whimpered under his breath. 

“I-I can help you..” You swallowed. “I can try.” Seóirse scoffed from beyond the door, but he seemed to understand your determination the longer he let it settle in. Help. 

The door suddenly swung open, and he dragged you inside with a heavy slam as it shut behind you. Pitched into almost complete darkness with the curtains covering every window, Seóirse's hands groping you in the dark made you squeak and shiver with every squeeze. What you thought might've been his leg suddenly dug into you painfully, the stiffness of his growing appendage sending a cold shiver racing up your spine. He was big. 

“You don't know what you're doing.” He muttered into your ear, and practically lifted you off your toes like you were a doll in his grip. “You should've run from me.” 

“I-I-” 

“You found it, didn't you?” He grunted lowly. “You found my skin. Why didn't you take it?” 

“Because I-” He cut you off with a kiss, his chapped lips hungrily devouring yours in the wettest kiss you could've imagined. He couldn't stop once he started, only trailing them further down your cheek to your neck before he bit down and started sucking. “..I-I couldn't do that–ah!” 

Seóirse sucked a deep, dark bruise into your throat that you wouldn't notice for days–you would have so many by the end of this that it'd be a struggle to count them. 

“Y-You're my friend, Seóirse..” 

“Friend?” 

The way he growled that singular word made your stomach knot itself up, only made more intense by his moan when you nodded against him. He grabbed the back of your head and held it to his chest, which was so warm and sweaty it heated up your whole body from the inside out. He wasn't the Seóirse you knew in that moment, but you weren't all that opposed to it the more he pressed himself against you. 

Yet, just as the energy in the room came to a climax, the arms you'd been wrapped up in peeled themselves away, and Seóirse stumbled back, rattling the end table as he bumped into it in the dark. Suddenly freed from his grip and sent teetering backwards, you felt along the wall for the light switch–and with a flip, you saw him in the state he’d been suffering in for the last couple days. 

Sweat poured its way down his body, it had drenched him from his forehead all the way down to his calves. You'd felt his skin but didn't realize he was completely naked, staring down at you with such a flushed face he looked sick. His bright eyes were hooded and dark, his breathing husky as his chest heaved, and he stared like he was watching the movements of prey–and then, in a flash, he darted away and raced through the hall to his bedroom, where he slammed the door shut behind him. 

This time, when you crept down the small corridor to reach him, you knew he wasn't holding it shut. You could hear it before you even peeked in, the squeaking of his bed frame and his panting as the sound of fabric swished over his skin. The room was just as dim as the rest of the cottage save for a soft light in the corner, a lamp lit up to highlight the glistening of Seóirse's back as he rutted against a pillow that had seen far better days. The poor thing was soaked through and worn with light patches where the fuzz was almost completely rubbed off; was this all he'd been using to get through his heat? It was honestly surprising that he managed to tear himself off you at all. 

“Just leave,” He practically pleaded, barely turning his head back over his shoulder while he couldn't stop humping his cotton-filled partner. “I'll hurt you…you won't…you won't like me anymore..” 

It almost sounded childish, but knowing Seóirse by now, you knew he felt that way genuinely. The man had such low self-esteem, so little faith in himself and his abilities, that he would apologize just for asking you to spend time with him as friends. He would've never imagined you felt the way you do for him–he probably thought he looked like a freakshow in your eyes. 

Hence why, when you started to strip quietly behind him, he didn't even glance back until your hands on his shoulders sent a jolt through his shuddering body. The way your soft skin pressed against him from behind would curse his wet dreams for the rest of his life. 

“Let me help you,” Seóirse's back arched as you whispered into his ear, a gasp quick to escape when he grabbed you from behind and practically flung your body over his shoulder, the pillow perfectly propping up your hips in front of him as you landed. He licked his lips, bent your legs back, and no power on earth could've muffled the squeals of pleasure from your lungs as he dove face-first between your legs. The shlucking of his tongue parting your slit nearly overshadowed the wet grip around his cock, each pump harsh and tight as he tried not to think too hard about breaking you in two with it. How hard you would scream when he stretched you to fit every inch…it was so awful of him, he was an awful friend, but he hadn't been able to get it off his mind since the first few hours of his rut. 

You wanted to help him, but here he was driving you crazy with his greed; slurping up your precious clit like you belonged to him, and all your pleasure was his to bestow. The guilt would kill him when he was finally able to think clearly again…but right now, it was more likely that not fucking you would kill him. 

You could barely cry out his name as he devoured you whole, and your fingers slid and trembled in his hair like you couldn't even manage to get a grip on it. The way your hips jumped and ground against his face gave him a clear picture that you liked it, but it wasn't until your legs were thrashing and your hole started leaking that he knew you'd hit your limit. But whether you had or hadn't, he wasn't quite done–and you could tell the moment he flipped you over and grunted as he dragged you back on your knees. Still spasming from the first one, Seóirse teased the tip against your entrance with a hooded look in his eyes. Just one push. Just wiggle it in. Even your own hips bumped back against him as you whined, almost in heat yourself, but he still struggled to just go for it and not hold himself back. If he hurt you, he knew he'd never forgive himself. 

“Please,” His hands trembled in the face of your begging. “Just wanna help…w-we’re friends, right?” Seóirse swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded.

“Yeah..” Your back seized at the slow, gradual stretch, just the tip alone pressing into you like a mountain you couldn’t hope to summit. Seóirse’s guttural moans managed to help, though, because the shivers racing up your spine at the sound of them loosened you up with enough slick for him to slide, but he wouldn’t divert away from his goal. He’d pined over you for too long to give up now. “Yeah-!”

A sharp gasp, a twinge of stinging pain, and your nails tore the sheets beneath you as he settled in just barely halfway. Your so-called friend whined deep in his chest with pure, pleasured agony, and before you could speak a word his fingers tangled roughly into your hair.

“Squirm,” He commanded, growling hard as he gripped your head in his whole hand and tilted it back. “Squirm on it. You're not escaping me now.” Once you caught a glimpse of his near-manic expression, he shoved your face into the soft covering of his pillow–the very same he'd been using and thinking of you this whole time. The musk clinging to it alone drove you into a frenzy; animalistic and wild with little regard for your own conscience. Was this how Seóirse felt? Because if so, you could hardly blame him for what he was about to do, or how close he was gonna get to breaking you right in half. 

“Fuck!” The curse felt foreign coming from his sweet mouth, but it paired perfectly with the frantic pump of his hips as he fought to sink even deeper into your heat. You clung to him like a vice, your walls and your womb knew what they needed, and he loved the sensation of your body bending to your instincts just like he did to his. The bed went from squeaking to rattling in an instant as his powerful thrusts knocked it against the wall, but if he broke it or broke you he couldn’t even mind it–his grasp on your waist and the resistance of your soft body as you squealed ensured that his mind wouldn’t escape the haze of lust that always came with these dreaded ruts. 

Maybe it was your own feelings for Seóirse that dulled it or it could’ve been an effect of his overwhelming pheromones, but even his size and the urgent pounding of his massive hips slamming back against you couldn’t rival the bliss that crept down every limb and seared throughout your veins. It could’ve been a breeding instinct, but whatever it was you wanted more; the pain of being spread open beyond your limit and knowing your sensitive areas would bear bruises in the morning was nothing compared to the dizzying pleasure of Seóirse pinning you under his weight and reaming you into the shape of his cock. 

The sudden brush of his bicep against your cheek made you stiffen, but without stopping his merciless rampage on you, he slid an arm over your throat and effortlessly tightened his hold to lift you higher, and meet your beautiful, glossy eyes with his own. Shrouded and dark unlike the pure blue that you’d come to adore, Seóirse cracked a devious smile that somehow still carried a tone of innocence about it. 

“You love me–your pussy loves me,” He gasped, tilting his head down to press his forehead to yours. “I can smell it, I love it. I love you–ah-! I love you..” The confessions tumbled out of his mouth one by one, from how he knew you were the one by the way you smiled at him to how he wanted to do this since the day he found you all cold and alone, stranded out at sea. How you were his beloved human and he wanted to be your selkie prince, please, because he only wanted one mate and he knew it just had to be you. On, and on, and on, until his chest sunk into your back and he plowed into you with increasing urgency, your gasps and little cries fueling his desire to blow his load as deep as your nethers could possibly take it. 

Seóirse’s needy tears spilled down your shoulder as he buried his blushing face into it. One shaky thrust, then two, and on the third he squeezed you tight enough for spots to dot the edges of your vision, and a shuddering wave of ecstasy washed over him as he relaxed completely into you. Spurts of thick, sticky selkie cum glued you both together once it started leaking from the seams of your union, but based on the dampness of his sheets and the haze hanging in the room itself you could be certain it wasn’t going to be any more of a mess than he would’ve made without you. 

What was more concerning was the fact that he barely even softened up once he’d finished. He didn’t bother easing out of you and instead let you warm him, nestled deep and snug and still not fitting completely; you were absolutely ruined, but Seóirse was only just getting started.

“Are…you okay?” He mumbled into your skin with a tender kiss, and thankfully drew his arm away from your neck to leave you ample space to breathe. At first you nodded, but he waited patiently until you managed to work up the strength to speak it out loud. “I’m glad. I’m so glad…so happy you’re with me.” His fingers traced soft patterns through your hair as he sighed with relief. “I knew you were the one for me.”

The one. The words left a fuzzy warmth settling into your heart. The one, his beloved, the person he wanted so badly to love that it pained him up until now…it didn’t feel too bad to be that person for Seóirse. Besides, this was only the beginning, and you had plenty of time to get to know this side of him until the end of his rut. A couple days, a week, hell, even a month–no matter how long it took to satisfy him, you had a good sense that it wouldn’t be the last time you stuck around for your ‘friend’. 

[jackalopesao3]

Hc the brothers react to mom mc baby’s first words being them calling the brothers daddy

Trying to catch up on my ask’s (70 deep), sorry this took so long!

I wanted to start with this one because I feel we could all use some serotonin right now!

Brothers React to MC’s Baby Calling Them, “Daddy”

Lucifer

💙 Much like his sin, Lucifer is feeling very prideful in that moment

💙 Of course MC’s baby called him daddy!

💙 No, he is not blushing! You’re just imagining things!

💙 Cherishing this moment forever but will not be obvious about it, except in front of MC and their baby ofc!

Mammon

💛 Very obviously blushing

💛 Our good boi is as red as Dia’s coat! “I’m not blushing! It’s just warm in here!”

💛 He’s so happy he’s hugging MC and their baby at the same time before pulling away and coughing, “I mean, it’s no big deal ya know, of course they’d see my as daddy! I’m your first after all!”

💛 You bet he’s teasing his brothers over him being called daddy and not them!

Leviathan

🧡 He is short circuiting over this revelation!

🧡 He muffles his squeals of joy into his arm before composing himself.

🧡 Then he self doubts, “How can a good-for-nothing otaku like me be worthy of that title?” but then MC’s baby literally throws their pacifier at his head to snap him out of it.

🧡 He’s already making cosplay outfits for the tiny bean and MC, so they can cosplay as a family together!

Satan

💚 He’s so shook. The way his expression softens as MC’s baby grasps his finger in their hand after calling him their daddy is just too precious.

💚 Satan also has some self doubts. He worries he’ll lose his temper around the baby but MC can already tell that he won’t.

💚 He is surprisingly gentle and patient with the baby.

💚 Any insecurity Satan has had over feeling like a monster due to his rage is quashed by the baby’s affection towards him. In a way, MC and their baby saved him from a dark place.

Asmodeus

🩷 Has never been called, “daddy” in a paternal sense before so he’s shocked and quite pleased!

🩷 He squeals and hugs the baby tightly to his chest. He’s def crying and he doesn’t even care that his mascara is running.

🩷 Totally showers the baby and MC in kisses and hugs for the whole day.

🩷 Is also the type to wear clothes that say, “Best Dad Ever” or something of that equivalent.

Beelzebub

❤️ Is so touched that he is brought to tears! He never thought he would be seen as a daddy.

❤️ Super gentle with the baby because of his size. Holding them in his arms, rocking them slowly.

❤️ Is very good with the baby! He’s like a super dad and takes care of all their needs!

❤️ Beelzebub loves his family and the fact that it’s growing. He has a lot of love in his heart!

Belphegor

💜 Is also one that would be shocked. He smiles and chuckles softly while whispering, “Thank you, little one!”

💜 Is so grateful MC’s baby sees him as a daddy because he still doubts he deserves MC’s or their baby’s love.

💜 He’s definitely going to pull both baby and MC into a warm embrace. He’s not crying, there’s just someone cutting onions nearby!

💜 Is very good at comforting the baby!

[fuck-customers]

I do this shit every day. I know what I am doing and I have a specific reason for doing things the way I do. Shut the fuck up, listen to my instructions and follow them, and we will be done with this transaction before you even know it.

The registers at my store suck ass. Despite the fact that they're "new" (we got new registers + a new system 3 years ago) they're worse than the old ones in nearly every way, specifically how slow they are.

If I scan an item, it will take around 5-10 seconds for it to appear on the screen. It WILL eventually appear, just slowly. So to get around this and save time, I scan each item immediately after each other and keep count of how many items there are in my head. I stall for time for the items to load by bagging the items and usually by the time I'm done bagging, everything has loaded. It's annoying, but this is the only thing that works. I can and have reset the register hundreds of times and it hardly makes a difference.

Every. Fucking. Day. I either have some moron think that their whole total for all 35 items they have is $2 because only one of their items has loaded at the moment. Or I have some bitch who insists on handing me each individual item one by one and then complaining about how long it is taking. It is YOUR FAULT! I have a system for making this go very quickly! I explained this to you! I told you to just set all your fucking stupid ass shit on the counter and let me do my thing and you will be out of my face so fucking quick! YOU are the cause of your own problems! I actually have legitimate reasons for giving the instructions that I give. I'm not asking you to do this to be difficult or out of personal preference. This makes it easier on both of us. I'm the one that works here. I know what I'm doing. Not you.

I hate new registers slower than the old ones. They did that to be in 1996 I liked the old ones I could go as fast as I wanted and the damn thing kept up. I didn't care they were from 1978 they were easy to repair and they were FAST. They got new ones with bigger display wider receipts that had more info on them,,, but that damn small ass scan buffer. It cut my IPM in half. I used to zip through cat food in seconds. After it would hit the limit of the buffer and start loudly BEEPING!! I would have to stop count how many were on the receipt and pull 10 to 15 cans out of the bag and keep going. I went from 65-70 per minute to 34. It sucked. Of course that was back when I actually gave a damn. Now I only hit the buffer during hurricane rushes.

-Rodney

[megalomaniacz]

…ELECTRIC LADY 📺💋🚬

pairing: 70s!ellie x reader

synopsis: the devil’s back in town and there’s no angel to save you.

author’s note: the lack of these ellie fics was baffling. LIKE THE MULLET IS RIGHT THERE! ib the lovely @ellabsweet

part one. > part two.

⋆˚✿˖°

“why’s she keep showing up?”

“well if you give a dog a bone.”

“oh fuck off i ain’t give her nothing but a good time. she’s the one asking me to leave with her to a different state.”

“road trip? maybe that’ll do you good.”

“you need to get fucked every which way and loose. you’re too uptight, doll.”

was why your feet were currently dangling outside the window of the ever charming girl’s 72 grey oldsmobile, cross hanging just above the dashboard. you bop your body a bit before reaching down to grab a tape she’d left on the passenger seat floor.

“aww man, jimi hendrix.” she nods, tapping her finger on the steering wheel. she’s leant back in the drivers seat, eyes cross with the road. cigarette tucked behind her right ear.

“you know, i don’t know you that well anymore. the city’s changed you.” you open her glove box to find a bottle of brown liquor and a light. “and yet you still agreed to come with me.”

“against my will.” you roll your eyes. it’d been three hours into the trip and you were feigning boredom. all the flavor had gone from your gum, and you weren’t in the mood for a book.

ellie was a country city country girl, cause it all happened in that exact order. a couple years ago she moved to where the buildings were brighter and the possibilities were endless. you’d actually been talking about her the day she came back.

“that’s ellie.” you point to the picture of the smiling girl pinned to the diner wall. “she’s a big star now, too good for us.” you explained to eilaine. she’d just moved into town and you two quickly bonded over music, makeup, and dancing. throw a little gossip in the mix while you’re at it.

you nearly chuck up your milkshake when the chime rings and the aforementioned movie star walks in. hands in her pockets and a smile on her face. she’d cut her hair into a mullet and was dressed like something you’d only seen in a magazine.

“speak of the devil.” you get up to give her a hug.

“and he shall appear.” she hugs back. “hi darling, i’ve missed you.”

a bit of light conversation over some drinks, nuts, and a game of pool that you lost had led you to be huddled up in the hot car with her. how the hell did she convince you to join her in that big city of hers? well it wasn’t all her, your roommates were dying to get you out of there.

“it’s only for a month? let her take you for longer!” dina says mid makeup. she hadn’t even evened out her eyeliner before she started sending you off. and abby was no help. “i can’t protest. i think it’d be good for you, we’ll have that sweet new girl cover your shifts.”

“did you guys plan this behind my back or something?” your eyes follow abby’s body swiftly moving to the closet to pull out a suitcase. “if we did you’d be gone already, now start packing.”

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Run, pretty girl, run Chapter 6

Summary:  Even with the safeguards put in place after the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D., the remaining Avengers find themselves on the run after the American government falls into disarray.  The code word is sent, and they’re officially fugitives.  Bucky makes a run for the safe house set up for emergencies like this where the Avengers are told to meet up, but on the way saves the pregnant agent turned payroll specialist that he was partnered with.  Will they make it before she goes into labor?  Or at all?

Warnings: violence, pregnancy, childbirth, death of minor character, language, eventual smut

“Бегать”: run “Подтвердить” : confirmed “Enkosi”: thank you “Дома”: home “Добро пожаловать”: welcome

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Once they got back to the Avengers compound Y/N kept good on her threat and retired.  She had had enough, and losing her baby was the straw that broke the camel’s back.  Fury made sure that a hefty restitution was paid to her as a last ditch effort of goodwill.  Bucky followed her lead, though his retirement was much more of a headache, being an enhanced person who was on the main team of the Avengers.  As he finally finished his outgoing paperwork and he and Y/N got paid out on their pensions, he booked flights and got things in place for them.  

“You all packed, pretty girl?” he asked a few weeks later.

“Yep.  Though I wish you’d tell me where we’re going,” Y/N said, giving him a hesitant look.

“Don’t worry about it, Mamas,” he reassured her, kissing her cheek.  “You’re gonna love it.”

A few hours later they were on a plane, graciously provided by Stark Industries from Pepper.  Y/N relaxed against the large seat, her eyes fluttering shut as Bucky held her hand.  She had stopped bleeding from after childbirth, and her body was finally feeling better after all they���d gone through.  They hadn’t done anything more than kissing, which Bucky was fine with.  He was inexperienced after 70 some years under Hydra, and as much as he wanted her, he knew it would take time and healing before either of them might be ready.  That being said, as they got further and further away from the Avengers, the more relaxed and flirty she seemed.

On their descent Y/N became more jittery, trying to look out the window and see where they were.  “Uh uh, no peeking,” Bucky admonished her, taking her chin between his metal fingers and making her look at him.  He winked at her when she met his gaze and she bashfully smiled, blushing and looking away.  

“Come on, Buck, the suspense is killing me,” she whined.  

“Soon, Mamas, soon,” he murmured, grabbing her hand and kissing the back of it.

They landed and Bucky blindfolded her before they walked off, leading her carefully to an awaiting car that was quickly loaded with their luggage.  As the driver took them to their destination she never let go of his hand, squeezing it tightly in anticipation.  The car stopped and Bucky helped her out while the driver unloaded their bags and promptly drove off.

“Okay, it’s driving me nuts, where are we?” Y/N demanded.

Bucky chuckled as he started untying the blindfold.  “You,” he paused, kissing her ear and she gasped, “me,” he kissed her neck, “and a cocktail in Monaco,” he finished, kissing her shoulder and pulling the blindfold off.  Y/N blinked rapidly as she got used to the sun in her eyes, then looked up and gasped again.  They stood in front of a French villa that faced the neighboring sea.  The sun was setting, creating a rainbow collage that made the white walls of the villa look like they were glowing.  The borders of the house were covered in flower gardens and walking paths that circled around the back.  She looked around in shock and turned to face him.  “Well, technically Nice, France,” he said.  “But we’re taking a boat tour of Monaco tomorrow.”

Y/N squealed and jumped into his arms, hugging him tight around the neck.  “This is amazing, Bucky,” she said reverently as she pulled away and looked at him.  “We made it,” she whispered, leaning her forehead against his forehead.

“We made it,” he agreed, leaning in and kissing her lightly.  He led her inside and they took a tour of the house and grounds, watching the last bit of sunset before going inside and getting unpacked and settled for the night.  As he lay down in the bed of the main bedroom he sighed loudly, Y/N smiling at him as she exited the adjoining bathroom.  “I’m so tired,” he breathed.  “Long flights really take it out of me now.  My age is catching up with me,” he smirked at her.

Y/N huffed a laugh.  “Well, if it’s any consolation, you look incredible for 107,” she teased, laying down next to him, propped up on her elbow.

Bucky laughed, turning to face her.  “Oh really?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Oh yes,” she said, reaching out and tracing the tip of her finger down his nose.  “You live up to your name, hot stuff.”

Bucky blushed and fought an oncoming smile.  “Big words from the prettiest girl,” he retorted.

Y/N rolled her eyes.  “I don’t know about prettiest,” she said.

Bucky scoffed.  “You are,” he said earnestly.  He took her hand and started kissing it all over the back of her hand to her knuckles to her fingers.  “My pretty girl,” he mumbled into her palm.  He started kissing up her wrist to her arm, continuing to pepper featherlight kisses up to her shoulder and into the crook of her neck, making her lay back as he hovered over her, his metal hand gripping her hip.  Y/N sighed as he worshiped her skin, her fingers gripping the blankets beneath her.

As he sucked on a sensitive spot he found weeks earlier near her ear she moaned.  “God, Bucky…” she breathed.

He smiled against her jaw.  “Yes?” he asked.

She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands and making him inhale sharply.  “I’m still waiting on that cocktail,” she murmured in a teasing tone.

Bucky laughed into her neck as she shook with laughter under him.  “Whatever my pretty girl wants,” he murmured, nipping at her earlobe, making her squeal.  “Though I can’t promise I’ll be any good at it.”

“Have you never made a cocktail before?” Y/N asked, looking at him in surprise.

Bucky grimaced.  “Uh….no?” 

She rolled her eyes and pushed him off of her.  “Okay, let’s go,” she grunted as she stood up from the bed and headed out the room.

Bucky quickly followed her out to the kitchen where a bar was nearby facing the view of the ocean.  Y/N walked behind the bar and started rummaging through the small drink fridge, pulling out different bottles.  She pulled out two glasses from the wall and loaded some ice into them before turning back to the bottles.  “Have you ever had an Aperol Spritz?” she asked.

“No,” he said, watching her intently.

Y/N smirked as she started showing him what to do.  Bucky loved watching her hands confidently grabbing the bottles and pouring them, adding the bitters and mixing everything together.  She finished with a slice of an orange in each glass then handed it to him.  “You, me, and a cocktail in Monaco,” she said, holding up her glass.

Bucky smiled.  “Saluti,” he said, clinking his glass against hers.  Y/N smiled and sipped her drink while he took his first drink.  He hummed as the taste slipped across his tongue, his eyes narrowing at the drink.  “Wow, that’s…that’s really nice,” he said.

“Right?” she said, her smile widening.

“You’re really good at this,” he said.  “Where did you learn to make drinks?”

“Well I wouldn’t say an Aperol Spritz is hard,” she scoffed.  “But, funny story, I was undercover for a while before being partnered up with you,” she said, putting her drink down and lifting herself up onto the counter of the bar to sit.  “I was gathering intel on a nationalist group that was trying to partner with the Flag Smashers after the Blip,” she continued, taking another sip.  “Thankfully, people like Karli Morgenthau were at least sensible enough to not want to associate with racists,” she cocked an eyebrow at him.  Bucky huffed, nodding as he remembered Karli and the Flag Smashers that he and Sam fought with a few years ago.  “I worked as a bartender in the bar the nationalists met at,” she said.  “Had to blend in.  Most of the drinks were easy, but for the odd cocktail every once in a while I had to look like I knew what I was doing, so I was trained in making drinks.”

“How did that mission end?” he asked.

“Oh, I just gave over intel and washed my hands of it when it was over,” Y/N said, downing the rest of the drink.  “I heard that it was a quick clean up.”

“Good,” Bucky smirked.  “What were you doing until we got partnered up?”

“Small missions,” she shrugged.  “That’s unfortunately how I met Tim.”  Bucky’s mouth tightened at the mention of the disappearing baby daddy.  Y/N looked down, her hands gripping the counter.  She was quiet for a moment, and Bucky quickly downed his drink before stepping toward her and between her legs.  He ran his hands from her wrists to her shoulders then up to her neck, his fingers under her jaw making her lift her head up to look at him.  She looked sad as she gazed up at him.  “I thought he loved me, you know?” she whispered.  Bucky nodded.  “He was really intimidated by me working with the Avengers,” she continued, a small lopsided smile breaking through.  “Especially working with you.”

Bucky scoffed.  “Really?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she nodded.  “He didn’t like how well we partnered together.”  

Bucky couldn’t help but smile widely.  “How insecure,” he murmured, his thumbs tracing along her jaw.

“Though I guess he wasn’t wrong,” she ventured, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Why do you say that?” he asked, leaning forward and rubbing his nose along her nose.

“Because we’re here,” Y/N whispered, her hands leaving the counter to reach forward and grip his shirt.  “And he’s not.”

Bucky kissed the tip of her nose and started rubbing his nose and lips across different parts of her face.  “Do you remember how after he left, I was so angry,” he muttered, slotting his hips between hers and against the counter further, “and I disappeared for a few hours?”  Y/N nodded, her hands moving up from his stomach to his chest.  “He never made it out of the state,” he said, a bitter tone to his voice as he tilted her head and his lips skimmed along her cheek to her earlobe, continuing what he was doing earlier.

“What did you do?” she whispered.

“You don’t wanna know,” he whispered, then licked her neck up to her ear, and she squirmed and moaned into his ear.  “You like that, Mamas?” he said.  “You like that I would do anything for you?  That I would kill for you?  That I’ve wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you?”  Her breath stuttered at that revelation.  “That even though I had a hard time trusting people, I knew I could trust you…with my life, my love, my heart?  That I’ve loved you since our first mission together, and you patched me up so tenderly?”

Y/N sniffled and he pulled back.  Her face was a look of desire, but there were tears streaming out the sides of her eyes.  “Yes,” she groaned.  “Yes, I like that.”

Bucky bit back a shit-eating grin.  “What do you want, pretty girl?”

“You,” she sighed.  “I want you.  All over me.  All around me.  Please, love,” she begged, which made Bucky’s brow furrow and his jaw tighten.  “I love you,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down.  

Just before their lips met he groaned.  “I love you,” he murmured, then kissed her hard.  

Y/N damn near climbed him like a tree, pushing herself up off the counter and into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist as one of her hands gripped the hair at the back of his head and tugged while licking along his lower lip.  Bucky whimpered as he turned and carried her back to the bedroom, his fingers digging into her hips.  When he finally got back to the bed he set her on it without breaking apart, sliding her up the bed until he was able to start to thrust against her hips, dry humping into her as his hands slid up her sides, pausing near her breasts.  

“Please, Buck,” she said, removing her hands from him and reaching down to start pulling her shirt off.

Bucky gasped as she revealed herself to him.  He had seen her breasts from their awkward mastitis encounter before, but getting to see them in this way was completely different.  “So pretty, Mamas,” he moaned before dipping his head down and licking at her nipple.  Her back arched, pushing her breast up into his mouth, and he sucked at her nipple fervently as his fingers played with the other one.  Y/N took off his shirt next, hastily pulling it up and over his head and flinging it across the room.  Her hands then massaged over him from his shoulders, down his arms and across his chest.  As he switched his mouth to her other nipple she lifted her head up and started kissing along the wound that connected his metal arm to his body.  It made him shudder, releasing her nipple as he gasped against her skin.  

“Fuck, Y/N,” he breathed.  “So sweet to me.”  His fingers traveled down to her hips, pulling at the hem of her shorts and underwear and looking up at her.  She nodded and he pulled them off down her legs.  She was already wet, her pussy glistening as he stared down at her.  “Goddamn,” he muttered.  “Can I taste you, Mamas?  Please?”

“Yes, please,” she replied, spreading her legs further apart.  

Bucky smiled and positioned himself to lay down between her legs.  He hooked her thighs around his arms as he kissed her inner thighs up to the crease between her leg and her pussy lips.  He gave her a broad-tongue lick up her slit, making her gasp loudly.  Bucky hadn’t done this in a very long time, but he followed his instincts and did what felt good, watching her reactions and noting what made her squirm more.  Her fingers grasped his hair, holding his head against her as he ate her out with desperation.  Y/N’s legs began to shake as he sucked hard on her clit before releasing it with a loud slurping sound.  As he gazed up at her he noticed the scar near her navel where the doctors had removed her baby.  He moved his head up and kissed it tenderly.  She stiffened at his actions, her fingers relaxing in his hair and scratching his scalp gently.  He kissed along the entire scar before kissing back down to her clit.  Y/N looked down at him, the tears returning at his tenderness.  He returned to licking her clit, this time not as desperate or frenzied, but more intentional and purposeful.  Within moments she threw her head back and moaned as she came, her hips jerking against his face as he helped her ride through her first orgasm.  “Good girl,” he said, licking up her cum.  

Bucky lifted himself back up and moved to hover over her, dipping his head down and kissing her.  Y/N moaned at the taste of herself on his lips, her hands reaching down to start pushing his pants down.  Bucky pulled away and watched her eagerly slip her fingers past the top of his boxers and dip down to grip his cock.  He lightly gasped at how her hand felt wrapped around him, his hips jerking against her.  “You gonna make me feel good, hot stuff?” she teased, giving him a wry smile.  

Bucky nodded, his mouth agape as she gave his cock lazy pumps with her hand.  He quickly slipped his pants and boxers off then reached for something in his pants pocket.  “Let’s be sensible about this,” he muttered, pulling out a condom.  He opened it and rolled it on himself as Y/N stared down at his cock.  “Even though I’d love for you to have my babies,” he teased back as he settled between her legs again.

Y/N looked shocked at his words, but a small smile lit up her face.  “You wanna have babies…with me?” she asked.

“Of course I do,” Bucky said incredulously.  He gripped his cock in his metal hand and slowly rubbed it between her lower lips, coating himself in her cum, making her shiver.  “I want it all with you.”  He aimed himself at her entrance and slowly started to push in.  She moaned at the stretch he gave her, her hands gripping onto his shoulders.  He kept going until he was fully seated inside her, his hips fully flushed with her hips.  He sighed heavily as she enveloped him, her grip loosening on his shoulders and her hands smoothing down his arms.  “I want you to be my girlfriend,” he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek as he gave her time to adjust to him.  “I want to make you my wife,” he continued, kissing her other cheek.  Y/N hummed as he kissed the tip of her nose.  “I want you to have my babies,” he smiled.  “I want to live the rest of my life with you.  All I want is you, pretty girl,” he smiled, kissing her lips.  

Y/N wrapped her legs around his hips, squirming against him.  “I’m all yours, Bucky,” she said.  “All I want is you.”

Bucky couldn’t stop smiling.  He pulled his hips back and then thrust back into her.  Y/N’s mouth dropped open in a silent moan.  “Mine,” he moaned as he continued to slowly thrust back and forth.  

Y/N’s hands moved back up his arms, shoulders, along his neck until she was cupping his face.  She brought him close to her face and rubbed her nose along his.  “Mine,” she said.

They both smiled at each other as Bucky kissed her again, his hips never stopping.  His pace picked up speed as he dug an arm under her neck to hold her closer, his kisses moving from her mouth to her neck, nibbling along her throat to her ear.  Y/N’s nails scratched down his back, making him snap his hips harder into her and she moaned loudly.  “Fuck yes!” she yelped.  “Do that again!”

Bucky huffed a laugh against her cheek.  “You like it hard, Mamas?” he asked, giving her another snap.  Y/N squeaked, her eyes shut tight and nodded frantically.  

“Yeah…please Buck…hard and fast…just keep calling me that,” she said, opening her eyes and looking down between them where they met.

“Oh really?” he teased, pulling out until only the tip of his cock was inside her.  She looked up at him in annoyance, her hips wriggling to try to make him push back in.  “You like being called my pretty girl?” he asked.  Y/N nodded, her face scrunching up with desire.  “Or do you like Mamas better?” he asked, giving her a quick snap of his hips.  

She shrieked, her fingers scratching him harder.  “Shit!  Bucky please…”

“Answer me, Y/N,” he instructed, nipping at her lower lip and sucking on it.

Y/N was nearly shaking beneath him.  “Mamas,” she whispered, licking at his mouth that was still holding her lip.  

Bucky smirked as he released her lip.  “I knew it,” he chuckled.  He braced his knees more on the bed then started pounding into her at a frenzied pace.  Y/N gasped, her head wrenching back against the bed.  Her breaths and moans came out faster and more high pitched, her arms wrapping around his back.  Bucky kept himself close to her, wanting to feel her skin against his as much as possible.  “I’m close, Mamas…fuck,” he groaned.  “You gonna cum for me again?”  Y/N nodded, biting her lip as she looked up at him.  “Shit, you can’t look at me like that,” he moaned, closing his eyes.  

Y/N’s fingers scratched up his back again then around his sides to his chest, up his neck and then tangled into his hair, scratching his scalp.  “Let me see those pretty eyes, hot stuff,” she murmured, her voice coming out airy and seductive.  Bucky opened his eyes, his breathing getting heavier as he looked down at her.  His hips started to roll against hers, and it made her eyes slightly roll as she swallowed harshly.  “I love you,” she breathed, then kissed him like she’d never kissed him before.

Bucky whimpered, his metal hand sneaking between them and his middle finger flicking her clit fast.  “I love you,” he mumbled against her lips.  Y/N whimpered, then her orgasm crashed over her.  She stiffened, her legs locking behind him, her fingers ripping at his hair as she came with a muffled scream against his lips.  Bucky grunted as her pussy clamped down on him, and within two more rolls of his hips he was cumming, a long, deep groan reverberating in his chest.  

They panted against each other as they came down from their highs, Bucky dropping his head into the crook of her neck, lazily kissing her collarbone.  “Goddamn, Mamas,” he mumbled.  Y/N giggled, her legs starting to relax and release him.  “You’re so good,” he continued.  “Feel so good…god I love you…”

Y/N softly ran her fingers through his hair as he lifted his head to look at her.  She had a lazy smile on her face, her eyelids half drooped as she breathed deeply and looked up at him.  “Heya hot stuff,” she muttered.

Bucky smiled.  “Hey pretty girl,” he said.  

Y/N sighed.  “Thank you,” she breathed.

“For what?” he asked.

“For this,” she replied, cupping his face in her hands.  “For taking me here.  For doing all you could to keep me and Grant safe.  For being my partner, my best friend,” she said, her thumbs swiping across his cheeks.  “For loving me.  Thank you for everything.”

Bucky shook his head with a small smile.  “And I’d do it a million times over,” he said, kissing the tip of her nose.  “Anything for you, Mamas.”

@vioplay19 @mrsnikstan @scott-loki-barnes @tufflepuff23 @itsmytimetoodream

[lousypotatoes]

Tumbling Dice - Husker

"Baby I can't stay, you got to roll me

And call me that tumbling dice~"

Pt.1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5

Song Recommendation:

Tumbling Dice - The Rolling Stones

Playlist

Warning! This contains rape and physical abuse. If any of those topics trigger you or make you uncomfortable, please with caution!

Prologue

70 years ago...

"Come on sweetheart, pretty please?" Roy slurred. Y/N could smell the booze coming of his breath. She was disgusted.

"If you straighten up and stop drinking, maybe," she angrily said, stomping off. 

"Why not?" he whined. She heard stumble into cabinet. 

"For the last time, Roy, I'm not having sex with you while you're drunk off your ass!" she spat, walking into her and her husband's shared bedroom. 

Suddenly, Roy grabbed her and threw her into the wall. 

"Don't you ever talk to me like that bitch!" he snarled, holding Y/N up by the collar of her dress. "You talk to me like that again, I'll fucking smash your head against the bedpost!"

"R-Roy!" she sniffled, blood dripping down her forehead. "I-I'm sorry just put me down! Please!" It was the first time Roy had ever been this violent. 

Instead of putting her down, Roy threw Y/N down on the bed. 

"What are you doing Roy?" she said, as he unbuckled his belt. She backed up the headboard. 

"I don't give a damn, if you wanna have sex with me or not, you're fucking doing it!" he said, grabbing Y/N and pulling off her dress. 

"Roy, stop!" she cried out, attempting to get out of his grasp. 

"Stay still," he growled, biting harshly on her neck. 

"Roy-"

"You say one more fucking word, and I'll gut you like a fucking pig,"

After months of this Y/N finally had enough. 

Being careful not to wake her husband, she slipped out of bed as quietly as she could. 

Tip toeing over to the closet, she grabbed the overnight bag that she had packed the previous night. She was going to stay at her mothers and deal filing the divorce in the morning. 

"Where do you think you're doing?" said a voice out of the blue. 

Y/N whipped her head around and saw Roy standing in the closet doorway in nothing but his boxers. 

"Roy!" she said, pushing away the overnight bag with her feet. "What are you doing up so late?"

"I could ask you the same thing, sweetheart," he said menacingly, walking towards her "You're not trying to leave, are you?" 

"No of course not I-" Roy seized her wrist. 

"I know when you're lying to me, Y/N," he growled. "Now tell me the truth, were you trying to leave?"

"No, no! I was just-"

Roy grabbed onto her throat, and squeezed as hard as he could. 

"I told you what was going to happen if you ever tried to leave!" he snarled, spitting in her face. 

"R-" she choked out. "R-R-Roy-"

"Save it, slut," he said calmly, bringing his other hand up to her throat. "You're going to die and it's all your fault." 

Y/N's vision was starting to get blurry, black dots were clouding her vision. Desperate to live, she started to feel around the shelves of the closet for anything she could use to defend herself. She finally found a hammer. She didn't know why Roy kept his tools in their closet, but she was grateful that hhe did in this moment. 

As hard as she could, she swung and hit Roy's head with the hammer. 

CRUNCH!

With a bloodcurdling scream, Roy let go of Y/N, falling to the floor. 

"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO!" he screamed, blood pouring out of head wound. Roy tried to stand up but he fell down. "I'M SORRY FOR WHAT I DID TO YOU Y/N!" he sobbed, tears streaming down his face. 

"Don't give me that crap, Roy," Y/N said coldly, brandishing the bloody hammer. "If you were really sorry, you wouldn't have done it at all." 

"Y/N please just for-"

His sentence was replaced with another scream. 

"DO. NOT. SAY. YOU. ARE. FUCKING. SORRY. YOU. ASS. HOLE." she screamed. After ever word she said, Y/N hit him with the hammer, until he wasn't recognizable. 

She dropped the hammer, satisfied that he was finally dead. Y/N was surprised at the fact that she was so calm, despite just killing her husband. 

Grabbing some clean clothes from the hangers, she quickly changed into a new set of pajamas. No longer needing, to stay at her mothers, she unpacked the overnight bag and put the clothes away. 

Before she walked out of the closet, she looked back at Roy's dead body. 

"I wish I did this sooner," Y/N muttered, closing the closet door and settling back into bed. 

yes, i know i've already posted this part but this is the official chapter

the previous one was just a preview

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[cinnabunwanda]

SELFISH PT. 2 ˗ˏˋ꒰ BUCKY . BARNES ꒱

content warning — angst, crying pairing — Fem reader x Bucky Barnes summary — Bucky learns his best friend Steve Rogers prioritized his happiness over their mission, leaving him feeling guilty for not intervening. They grieve and share guilt. word count — 1216

Bucky's stomach churned as he reluctantly entered y/n's room, immediately hit by the pungent stench that hung in the air. He raised his arm to cover his nose, teasingly commenting on the foul odor that seemed to have taken over the once pleasant space. With a sense of urgency, Bucky rushed to open the windows, letting in fresh air in an attempt to combat the unpleasant smell.

As he turned back to face y/n, his heart sank at the sight before him. She had barely moved from her spot since Steve had left a week ago. Bucky had tried to make her laugh with his jokes and sat with her during meals, but she remained unresponsive and lost in her thoughts. It was as if she had disappeared along with Steve.

Bucky was no stranger to loss, but this one hit especially hard. He was used to losing people - it came with being a soldier. But losing his best friend and their girl to someone they loved 70 years ago? That was a whole new level of pain. And while Bucky had learned to cope with grief quickly, he still found himself crying into his pillow at night, feeling more alone than ever.

But now, as he looked at y/n's unmoving figure, he realized just how much this loss had affected her. She hadn't even been able to take care of herself, let alone wash away the days' grime. Bucky sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair before mustering up a gentle smile.

He gently coaxed y/n into the shower, reminding her that she needed to take care of herself even though Steve was gone. The water cascaded down on her skin, numbing her senses and providing some semblance of relief from her overwhelming thoughts.

But even as she sat there in the cold water, all she could see was Steve's lifeless body. His eyes empty of the spark that used to light up when he teased her, his once bright smile now gone. She couldn't even begin to imagine how he died - was it at the hands of Thanos himself? Did he die while trying to save someone else? The possibilities were endless, but the pain of losing him remained constant.

As she sat lost in her thoughts, a gentle knock on the bathroom door brought y/n back to reality. She looked up briefly, her red eyes following the sound through the steamed-up glass shower door.

Y/n's body was submerged in the warm, comforting embrace of the shower. The water cascaded down her skin, washing away tears and worries that seemed to cling onto her every move. Bucky's soothing voice drifted through the curtain, a lifeline for her troubled mind. She felt a sense of relief and safety wash over her as he checked up on her, even though she hadn't spoken in days.

Finally, with a deep breath, she stepped out of the shower and into the steamy bathroom. Her towel, left folded by Bucky, awaited her and she hastily wrapped it around her body. Y/n ran her fingers through her damp hair and sighed.

Bucky's reassuring smirk greeted her as she emerged from the bathroom. He sat on her bed, his hands braced on the edge of the mattress, exuding an air of calmness and stability. "She's alive," he remarked playfully, referencing the long time y/n spent in the shower.

As y/n quickly dressed herself under the towel, Bucky respectfully kept his gaze elsewhere. His presence alone was enough to make y/n feel at ease, and she found herself grateful for his company.

"Do you want me to leave?" Bucky asked softly as he stood up to give y/n privacy.

"Wait," y/n's timid voice stopped him in his tracks. She took a breath before continuing, "Would you stay with me tonight? I don't know if I can be alone again..."

Without hesitation, Bucky climbed back into bed beside y/n and pulled her close to him. Their intertwined fingers lay over his chest, his metal arm providing a sense of strength and protection.

In the stillness of the room, only the faint whirring of Bucky's metal arm could be heard. Y/n finally mustered up the courage to ask about Steve's death, her words trembling with unshed tears.

"Bucky?" she spoke up, her voice barely above a whisper.

He hummed in response, his fingers gently playing with hers as he waited for her to continue.

"How did Steve...you know, die?" She bit through her tears, bracing herself for the answer.

Bucky's expression softened as he looked down at her, sensing her pain and fear. He took a deep breath before answering, his voice filled with sorrow and regret.

Bucky felt his stomach drop at her question, a heavy weight settling in the pit of his stomach. He hadn't expected her to ask about this now, when they were curled up on her bed, warmth and comfort surrounding them. The words stuck in his throat, refusing to come out as he tried to pry them loose.

"I-" he couldn't bring himself to lie. It would be cruel, especially to someone he cared for so deeply. She deserved to know the truth, no matter how much it hurt. "Y/n, Steve didn't- he didn't die." Bucky ground out through gritted teeth, feeling like his tongue was coated in sandpaper.

"W-what?" Y/n's voice trembled with shock, fear, hope, and anger all at once. She sat up quickly, turning around in his embrace to face Bucky. A scowl etched itself across her usually gentle features, marring her beautiful eyes with a hint of bitterness. "Then where is he?"

Bucky let out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes as he braced himself for her reaction.

"Bucky. Where is Steve?" Y/n's tone had shifted from confusion to coldness, something uncharacteristic for her. Bucky swallowed hard, but it did little to ease the tension that had settled between them. He watched as she folded her arms over her chest.

"Steve left, doll. He's not- he's not coming back." Bucky confessed, his face falling into his hands.

"What do you mean?" Y/n whispered brokenly, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. "Why isn't he coming back?"

"Because he left to be with Peggy, okay? He left us, y/n!" Bucky finally snapped, his own tears mingling with hers as they stained his flushed cheeks. The grief still lingered within him.

Y/n's expression mirrored the devastation she felt the day Bucky first told her Steve was gone. But this time, there was a spark of rage in her eyes.

"I don't understand, why would he-" Y/n's voice trailed off, unable to finish her question as the answer dawned on her.

"I don't either, doll. I miss him, but I also hate him for what he did. To me, to you, to us." Bucky's voice was barely above a whisper now, his eyes downcast as he picked at the hem of his shirt.

"I-" y/n began to speak before breaking off into a choked sob, falling back into Bucky's embrace.

Steve, her Steve, had become a selfish and misguided man. He had shattered their bond and left them both with broken hearts.

© CINABUNWANDA ⎯ do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own.

[anxiousnerdwritings]

Hiya Sugar,

You’re the newest goodey-goodey in town, aren’t ya? What am I sayin’, of course ya are! I already knew that! In fact I know a lot about’cha, you’d be real surprised.

At first, I didn’t think too much about there being another vigilante running amuck. To me it was the usual same ol’, same ol’ in Gotham. It wasn’t until we had our very first run in that had me wanting to take a real good look into ya. I had been with my former crappy Puddin’ at the time and we were planning to cause some havoc for B-man, but you showed up first. That didn’t stop us from causin’ you some trouble too but you were really somethin’. A good kinda somethin’! You surpassed both mine and my ex-Puddin’s expectations by a long shot, putting us in our place real quick before B-man even made an appearance. But when he did finally roll around, my shitty ex had the audacity to use me as a distraction so he could getaway, puttin’ me in peril.

I’ll be honest I was worried there for a bit. Sure I was all laughs about it until it set in that my Puddin wasn’t gonna save me then the panic came. I mean hanging off a 70 story building by the tippy tips of ya fingers will do that to ya, ya’know? (To be honest, I don’t even know if it really was 70 stories but it sure as hell felt like it.) But then the most marvelous thing happened! My grip gave way and I was startin’ to fall only for an arm to shoot out and catch me!

Now, I was fully expecting B-man or one of his little birdies being the one who got to me but imagine my surprise when I was met with a new face. A really nice lookin’ face too! (At least from what I could tell.) Your grip on me was real strong and firm but it felt gentle all the same. Ya pulled me up and looked me all over for any serious damage, askin’ if I was alright. You didn’t manhandle or be too rough with me whatsoever. In fact you were real gingerly in checking me over. You also weren’t yellin’ or shoutin’ at me either, instead you were speaking slow and soft to me. I remember your voice bein’ real nice to listen to too. In that moment I realized you truly were somethin’ different, a breath of fresh air compared to the rest of the heroes coming out of the woodworks in Gotham.

You were just so nice to me, even though we tried to kill ya and cause some psychological damage along the way (sort bout that by the way😅), but you were still worried about little ol’ me. I don’t even think B-man has ever been really genuinely concerned about my well-being before, at least not like you were, when my Puddin’s used me like a meat shield. If it weren’t for his no killing hangup he probably would have let me die plenty of times before. But you actually cared! I don’t know what exactly it was but somethin’ about ya that night made me feel all tingly and warm inside and I liked it. Then the next thing I knew you were gone chasing after B-man and my ex-Puddin’ leavin’ me feelin’ cold and alone. Ever since then I’ve been keepin’ a close eye on ya. Hell, I even dumped my Puddin’ right after that incident. Ya should have seen his face, thinkin’ I wasn’t serious only for him to come mopin’ around wantin’ me back. But I stood my ground. Besides, I already had my eye on somethin’ better. Or rather someone better.

Like I said before, I’ve been keepin’ my eye on ya since then and I’m so glad I did. Sure some people would call it “stalking” but I prefer to call it “closely admiring from a reasonable and legal distance”. Except those few times I did let myself into your place and took a peek around. I didn’t take anything though, at least nothing you’d notice but that’s not what’s important. What is important though is how much you’ve opened my eyes to new horizons beyond just stupid ol’ Joker and everything that has to do with him. I still do the odd crime here and there but they’re no way near the same extremes like they used to be. I only really do somethin’ bad when I know you’re on patrol and will for sure be the one to stop my shenanigans. Honestly, I just want the chance to see and talk to ya again. Don’t even get me started about all the times when I have caused mischief only for B-man or one of his birdies to be the one to show up instead of you. I’ve never felt so disappointed and upset before. All that time and effort only for some other big baddie or even a small petty criminal to take up your attention away from me. It really gets under my skin. Would I say I’m jealous though? Not really. Okay maybe a little but can ya blame me? After all this time I finally have somethin’ good in my life that’s gettin’ me to change perspective only to have to share it with others who have no intention on changin’ for anybody! They’re a waste of your time but I get that you gotta stick to your goodey-goodey schtick, that’s who ya are after all. But still it gets me feelin’ some type of way, and not in a good way either.

I can’t help that you’ve become something so prominent to me in such a short amount of time, although I know ya don’t know just how much ya truly mean to me. I’ve even started focusing on doing more good than bad, little by little ya’ know? Baby steps. You’re a good part of why I started leaning more towards being good but it was also due to another incident I got in. I won’t go into it but let’s just say it involved a lower criminal who just wouldn’t stop runnin’ his mouth about ya and I wasn’t havin’ any of it. I admit I may have gone a little overboard with getting my a point across but he deserved it. He had no right talkin’ about ya like that! Sure, he’ll probably never wake up from his coma and is in a permanent vegetative state but you can’t say he isn’t technically still alive. So at least I didn’t kill him kill him, right? Hey, what can I say this goodey stuff is still pretty new to me. At least I’m tryin’ my best. There was also some other stuff involved besides him bad mouthin’ ya but I can’t for the life of me remember what it was but I’m sure it also was well deserving of an ass kickin’.

Oh goodness gracious, look at me ramblin’ away as usual! Ya got that kind of affect on me, ya’know? But anyhoo, I should really end this letter before I start spillin’ all my beans. I need to keep some secrets to myself after all. But maybe I’ll get around to tellin’ ya those ones too when we’re much more acquainted. But don’t worry ya little ol’ head though, sugar, everythin’ will come to fruition in due time and the two of us will be together! I just gotta get a few of my duckies in a row before we take the plunge but it’ll all be worth it in the end and you’ll finally be all mine!

See ya soon, sugar! Don’t miss me too much though~ Before ya know it we’ll be makin’ up for all our lost time and really gettin’ to know each other! But until then I’ll leave ya with this and a few gifts I left behind for ya too!

Lots of lovin’,

Harley<3<3<3

P.s

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxooxxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxooxoxoxoxooxoxoxxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxxxoxox~~~~

[itspikamefan]

Another something different

(Aight so I was gonna wait until I had Chapter 2 fully written out but with Chapter 3 now fully completed and Chapter 4 almost halfway done I decided to give a brief showing on what happens in Chapter 3 of Save the Tiger AU (Can't believe that's the official title now). With all that in mind, let's turn to Yonekura to see the incident that unfolds in Chapter 3's murder case and the subsequent execution that followed :3)

...

*bzzt*

...I swear to god... Yume... I am going to...

MMMMMMMHMMHMM!!!

*Inhales*

Dr.Haruka Yonekura... Session 1... Log 69...

To briefly explain my earlier frustration... It appears that Student 9 has been ill content with simply being an annoyance to the other students, but has also caused repeated problems with the staff, including creating yet ANOTHER Misleading Murder Case, AND Interrupting the execution this time around in order to save the executee, only to get herself injured in the process!

Jesus christ... I knew she wasn't the brightest bulb but she is making my job the LITERAL WORST right now.

...But anyways... That is not the purpose of this report...

The days before the actual murder took place, Student 9 had been repeatedly harassing and targetting Student 6 in a bullying campaign, severely injuring him and further worsening Injuries made to Student 3. This was all purposeful to trigger the anger of Student 11, who Student 9 considered her "Nemesis"

Then, the night before the actual murder, Student 9 carried out a sort of... swap. Kidnapping Student 12, Student 9 swapped their outfits with the unconcious Student 12, and tied him to her bedpost while walking around the school as him. The next night, after Student 9 pulled a particularly nasty stunt, Student 11 entered the room of Student 9 and strangled the bed's occupant to death. It was only after Student 9 had killed her victim, that she had realized her victim was Student 12...

Regardless, on the morning of the Investigation, Student 6 and 11 were led purposefully to the Workshop by Student 9 placing a wooden cross that could have only been made there underneath the now deceased Student 12. This was, in intention, to murder Student 11, thus connecting her murder to Student 9, and leading to both students dying as killers...

However, due to circumstances that I am still completely unable to comprehend... Instead of Student 11... Student 6 was the one to open the door to the Woodshop. Thus triggering the trap... And Ending his life...

And that leads us to the situation we have today, where there are two seperate murderer for two seperate victims. One has been executed as normal, and the other will be able to continue on like nothing happened at all. And of course... It had to be Student 9 who lived... Fucking hell...

...Surprisingly enough, Dr.Kan seemed very eager for this particular execution. He obviously has always been obsessed with his little "Creative" puppet shows that he makes the Students put on, but for the execution of Student 11, he seemed particularly giddy for this performance...

Let's see what he had in mind...

*Ahem*

"It's a Bird, It's a Plane."

"Student 11's execution began with stringing her up to a ceiling wire on the roof of her execution chamber, her limbs stretched out in resemblance of a Superhero Flight pose, as with her Ultimate Title. Surrounding Student 11's path were various boxes or wooden figures in different groups, all with Villanous Signs painted on them.

On the Intercom, Student 11 was instructed to destroy all of the "Villains" in the arena, with the promise of freedom if she managed to destroy them all. Student 11 was not given a set timer, for reasons that would become apparent later.

As the Course Started, Student 9's restraints began to move them along a treaded course rather quickly, understanding the assignment, Student 9 attempted to punch several Wodden Objects, knocking some of them off, destroying others, and barely grazing the last few. Out of the 70 objects, only 47 were destroyed on the first path.

On Student 11's Second cycle, the course sped up, leaving Student 9 less time to destroy the wooden targets. She managed to hit approximately 12 by the end of her Second go around.

This repeated, with Student 11 hitting less and less, till eventually 1 every 5 rounds as Student 11 "Flew" across the course at high speeds, causing Student 11 to vomit. Eventually, after a time, Student 11 managed to hit all but one of the boxes, though her speed was so great, she could only barely see the last box at the very end of the course, with a big target painted behind it, though just barely out of Student 11's reach.

Finally, afyter several cycles Student 11 was launched at the final target, as one research assistant in disguise, cut the wires on Student 11's restraints, causing Student 11 to continue her propelled momentum towards the target...."

Normally, the execution described would end with Student 11's crashing through the box and smashing against the wall, cracking her skull and other bones against the solid surface. However... At this point... Student 9 SOMEHOW managed to escape from the Trial Room to the Execution Chamber!

From there, Student 9 taunted Student 11 from behind the very last box, giggling like a maniac... Before Student 11's Body was catapulted into her, sending her flying against the wall as well...

While the Initial Purpose of the Execution still succeeded due to the High Speeds, causing Student 11's spine to snap and her skull to shatter, killing her instantly... This execution also ended up nearly, but unfortunately unsuccessfully, killing Student 9. She, in all of her stupid luck, managed to escape with only some Neck, back, and head injuries, while simultaneously being knocked unconcious...

I... have so many questions with this execution... Why did we divert so many resources into this execution design? How did Student 9 even manage to find out WHERE the execution was happening?! Why wasn't Monomoko watching her?! Why didn't she stop her?! WHY DIDN'T KAN STOP HER?!

*Inhales*

I'm going to be having yet another meeting with Dr.Kan about his misuse of expirement resources for his exorborent "Executions"... In the meantime, Monomoko has requested additional resources for Student 9's recovery... Which I unfortunately will have to provide... Fuck... My... Life...

Dr.Haruka Yonekura. Session 1, Log 69... Signing Off

*Click*

[strawberryshortcake1495]

This scene through Mabel’s POV 💔

I lay alone in my room, sitting on the floor while looking through the scrapbook I have created. It contained all my memories of the summer. It wasn’t perfect, but it was mine. Then, I hear the door creaking open. I look up to see my Grunkle Stan. “Hey, everything alright, pumpkin?” He asks softly. “I just can’t believe the summer’s almost over; and now that I know how awful high school’s going to be, I’m in no hurry to start that train wreck.” I lamented, dumping all my sorrows onto him. Luckily, he seems completely sympathetic for me. He gently puts a hand on my shoulder and scoots a little closer to me. “Hey, nobody likes getting older.” He said to me. “But just because you’re grown up doesn’t mean you have to…” He hesitates. “Grow up, y’know? I mean, look at me. I’m pushing 70 and I still eat ice cream for dinner.” He said with a smile. As much as I tried, I couldn’t return that smile back to him. I hesitate before slowly leaning my head on his shoulder. “But I don’t want to say goodbye to Gravity Falls.” I said. “Hey, at least whatever happens after this summer, you’ll still have your brother along with you through thick and thin.” Stan reassured me. His face then shifted into a melancholic expression. “Not everyone can say that, y’know.” He said quietly. Then he smiled again, and this time, I found the strength in me to smile back. He tenderly ruffles my hair and leaves the room, waving goodbye as he does so.

I take a moment to consider his words. Yes, he’s right. He’s always right…most of the time. At least when I come home, I’ll always have Dipper. My lovely twin brother who always has a knack for mystery and nerdy stuff. The peanut butter to my jelly. My other half. I pull out a picture of us fishing and I take a moment to look at it. I see our happy faces. Surely, these bright smiles would never go away even if we’re back in Piedmont, right? Wrong. As I’m staring at the picture, I hear the walkie talkie in my backpack make a strange staticky noise. I hear Dipper’s voice. His words are inaudible, so I crawl towards my backpack and grab the walkie talkie. I hold it tight in my hands. I hear the voice of my Grunkle Ford. “Listen to me, Dipper. This town is a magnet for things that are special, and that includes you and me.” I hold it close to my ear at a safe distance so I don’t hurt my eardrums. “It brought us both here for a purpose. Stay here with me, Dipper. Become my apprentice. Don’t let anyone hold you-“ There’s a weird jumble of static and what sounds like rough coughing. But then the next words I hear are as clear as a mirror. “I’ll do it, I’m gonna stay.” My hands tremble and I drop the walkie talkie. It hits the floor with a soft clunk. The voices keep talking. “Excellent.” says Ford. “Now, who wants to save the world, apprentice?” The last thing I heard was him and Dipper laughing. My Dipper, gone forever. I look down at my hands and realize my whole body is shaking. What? Ford’s apprentice? Why would Dipper take the offer? Was he that obsessed with the mysteries of Gravity Falls? Did he…did he hate living with me that much? I try to pull myself together, because this is upsetting me and I can already feel a nervous breakdown creeping onto my back and up to my brain. I decided to talk to Dipper about it. I was very much hurt, but I still wanted to give him a chance. A chance to apologize, to eat his words, to tell me that what I heard on that walkie talkie was a sick joke. I grab that twisted thing and crawl onto the bed, hugging it close to my chest.

Hours passed and the sun was setting. I lay alone on my bed and hear Dipper bursting through the door. “Mabel, I just had the best day of my life!” He squealed, throwing his backpack onto the side. “UFOs are real, and there’s one under the town, and I saved Great Uncle Ford’s life and-“ He finally seemed to notice that I wasn’t looking too well. My back is turned to him, my eyes staring at the wall. They’re glossy with tears that threaten to spill like water breaking through a dam, drowning everything in its path. “Hey, are you okay?” Dipper softly asks. This is it. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for. Do I want to do this? Should I just tell him I’m fine and that he shouldn’t worry at all? No. I needed to talk this through with him. I needed to give him that chance. “Tell me it’s not true, Dipper.” I say weakly. I wipe my eyes dry of tears before sitting up to face him. “Tell me you were joking.” I say, showing him the walkie talkie. Dipper lets out a soft gasp and his eyes linger towards the one in his backpack. Ah, he’s finally putting it together. Well, there’s no turning back now. “Ford’s apprentice? Seriously?” I continue on. “Look, I was thinking and…this is a huge opportunity for me.” He tries to defend himself. I tug at my hair and I feel my tears building up in my eyes once again. This time, the dam wasn’t strong enough to keep it contained. “Well, it’s a horrible opportunity for me!” I snapped. Ugh, not again. Stop it. Stop crying, you big baby. Be a big girl. I can’t. I can’t be a big girl, and I don’t think I ever will be. “I had the worst day of my life.” My voice breaks, and I jump off of my bed. “When we turn 13, the summer ends and I have to leave everything behind.” I turn to face him once more. “You’re the only person I can count on and now you’re leaving me too?” I said sadly. “Look, I’ve been thinking about it. I won’t be gone forever, okay? I’ll still visit you at home and chat online. We’ll make it work.” Dipper says. I turn around and grab the scrapbook, opening it up and staring at the pictures. Our bright eyes and happy smiles didn’t feel so sincere anymore. “I don’t want it to work. I just wish summer could last forever.” I said, trying to focus on the pictures. I just needed some way to comfort myself. “But it can’t, Mabel.” Dipper walks towards me and kneels down, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Look, things aren’t gonna stay frozen this way. It’s part of growing up. Things change, summer ends.” He tells me. I look up at him, my wet eyes meeting his dry ones. That’s when I decided that I didn’t want to grow up. I didn’t want to grow up if that meant sacrificing every good thing in my life for a dull and meaningless existence. I pull away from his touch, running straight towards the door. Dipper falls flat on his face, and I hear him calling out to me, but I don’t care. I’ve given him his chance, and he blew it. Because he doesn’t love me anymore. I’m just holding him back, right? Then he won’t care if I just disappear off the face of the earth. Nobody will care. I’m just the manic pixie dream girl that everyone hates, but there’s no one who hates me more than myself.