#way that only someone incredibly close to her could have. there is no hurt where there wasn't once vulnerability. you know???

[imperial-evolution]

There's something completely maddening about the way that Medea and Jason are constantly referring to each other as theirs, despite everything. Medea calls him her husband, even as she resolves to murder their kids. Jason calls her gyne - woman or wife, even as he leaves her! i'm going insane!!

[covenofagatha]

A dance with death (and her wife) (Part 3)

A new murder with a different M.O. has you feeling confused

Word count: 4100

Warnings: fingering, murder

It takes you all of five minutes to leave the motel room after you dig more clothes out of your suitcase. 

You looked everywhere for the clothes you were wearing before your nap, but they’re nowhere to be found. 

It would be incredibly bad if you had stripped down and then left the room to put them somewhere else. 

But you don’t have time to dwell on that right now. 

You go fifteen over the speed limit to get to the location Agatha had texted over after she hung up the phone. 

To the location of another murder. 

You had foolishly hoped that maybe The Witch and Lady Death would slow down once you had gotten to town, maybe out of fear of being caught. 

Clearly you had done little to deter them. 

It’s only ten minutes away from your motel, near a creek on the edge of town. 

Police cars are already parked there, yellow caution tape closing off the perimeter. You slam the door shut to your sedan and hurry over to Agatha. It’s late in the afternoon, but the sun is already setting, making the colors of everything look muted. 

“Was it them?” You ask, a little breathless. Agatha glances up and down and looks like she wants to comment on your outfit change, but doesn’t. 

“Come see and tell us what you think,” she says ominously and you follow her into the trees. “Good doctor’s appointment?” 

You stop walking, forcing her to pause too. “You’re married to Dr. Vidal?” 

She chuckles. “She told you that, didn’t she?”

“Did you know that’s who I was going to see earlier?” You ask, not sure why it matters. 

“I had my suspicions,” is all Agatha chooses to say. She’s taking you further into the woods along the side of the creek and it’s getting colder, but the air starts to feel…alive, almost. 

Like it’s crackling with something. You somehow know you’re getting closer to the body.

Are you imagining it, or can Agatha feel it, too? 

And then she stops so quickly you almost bump into her and she points up ahead. 

In the middle of thin, small trees is a big willow tree. It’s a beautiful sight, if you’re being honest. 

You’re transfixed by the icicles gleaming from the barren branches and it takes you a bit to notice the pool of red snow by the roots. 

You stumble forward to get a better look in the last rays of daylight, eyes traveling up the tree trunk and you gasp. 

A man is tied to it, his pants cut open halfway down his thigh and there's a deep gash through both of his femoral arteries. Most likely the cause of death. The only reason you know what color his pants were supposed to be is because the part near his hips is unstained. 

But that’s not all. 

His flannel shirt has been ripped as well, revealing his bare chest, where a heart has been drawn with a knife. It’s a shallow cut, not too much blood, but it’s clear this was meant to be a message, rather than fatal. His eyes are gray and lifeless.

“I don’t understand, this isn’t their M.O. at all,” you say, the snow behind you crunching as Agatha walks to stand next to you. 

You can feel her eyes on you, regarding you carefully. “So what do you think?” 

You think that you’ve never felt this way before. Something is happening to your body, a heat is spreading through it, and it’s like there’s electricity under your skin. Your scar tingles, but doesn’t hurt. 

“Fuck, I don’t know,” you say in frustration. “Maybe they’re switching it up, it’s like they’re taunting me! It doesn’t make any sense to change tactics now, though. All the other bodies were found in homes and now this one is tied to a tree in the middle of nowhere? Doesn’t seem to be poisoned and they didn’t carve out his heart. I don’t – I don’t know.” 

You’re so suddenly aware of the hot blood pumping through your veins and you want something. You can’t put a name to it yet, though. 

“Do you think it could have been someone else?” She asks and you shake your head immediately. 

“No, this was them. I know it, I can feel it.” There’s a thrumming in your head now, behind your eyes and you just want to get rid of it. 

Agatha’s lips stretch into a slow smile and you can see the darkness in her eyes. “What else do you feel?” 

The question makes you freeze. Maybe you’re not going crazy. “Can you feel it, too?” You whisper; you’re afraid to say it too loudly, like it’ll break the spell. 

She slowly walks around and advances on you and you walk backwards until you hit a tree. Your heart races and you can feel it everywhere, like your entire body is beating in time with it.

“You feel the adrenaline, don’t you? Being this close to death, yet you feel more alive than ever?” She asks, and you choke out an affirmation. “It’s addicting, isn’t it? Tell me how it makes you feel.” 

Agatha leans down again, just how she did in the evidence locker, but this time, she drags her teeth up your neck and nips. The pounding in your head gets worse. “It feels…powerful,” you admit, both to her and yourself, maybe for the first time. 

“There’s an ache inside you, right?” She asks, now sucking bites into your neck and your stance widens just the slightest. 

Hearing her put a name to it makes it ever so clear to you now. “Yes,” you gasp, molten heat growing between your legs. “Please.” You don’t know what you’re asking for, but Agatha does. 

Lips still on your skin, her hands fumble with the waistband of your new pants, trying to unbutton and unzip. She’s finally able to slip her fingers in and when she moves your underwear to the side and cups your pussy, you hiss at the coldness. 

“Fuck,” you swear as she starts to swipe at your clit. You’re so sensitive already, and if you weren’t so needy, you’d take a good, long look at yourself to figure out why you’re so turned on right now. 

“Why don’t you think it was them?” She asks, pushing a finger inside you and your head falls back against the tree. She doesn’t move it, waiting for an answer first. 

The ringing in your head comes back with a vengeance. “They’re messing with me,” you stutter. “They want me to be thrown off their game.” She starts moving, slowly thrusting and curling, and you gasp. The mix of pleasure and pain is a combination you never thought would be a good one. 

“You think they’re doing this just for you?” She muses, shoving another finger inside you and twisting lazily and it pulls a groan out of you. 

“The murders were all the same until I showed up,” you whimper. It feels like your body is about to burst. “Agatha.” 

Her thumb finds your clit again and rubs it. “Shh,” she soothes. “I know, superstar. I’ll give you what you need.” She mouths at your neck, lips traveling upward until she reaches your chin, and then her face pulls away from yours. 

“Please,” you beg again. 

“What if it wasn’t them?” She asks in a low voice, fingers stilling in you. You whine and frantically buck your hips to get some stimulation. You just need more. 

You can’t even think straight. “It had to be them. Who else could it have been?” 

There’s just enough sunlight to see the wicked smirk on her face. “Guess we’ll have to wait and see.” 

And then her lips are on yours and she’s ferociously kissing you like she’s trying to devour you, and the pain in your head completely stops. 

She sets a bruising pace inside you and you’re panting into her open mouth while her tongue thrashes against yours. Your teeth clash and it’s messy and hot and everything that you need, and her fingers are hitting exactly where you need. Your hands are rough as they scramble for purchase around her shoulders, desperate to keep her exactly where she is. You dig your nails into her and she moans against you, and you’re so close. 

Your orgasm is building, only this time, it’s heightened and feels way more intense than any you’ve ever had before. You’re throbbing around Agatha’s fingers, clenching and trying to draw her in even more, and she fits a third one into you. It makes you keen and you babble nonsensically about how you’re going to cum.  

“Cum for me, pet,” she orders and you sink your teeth hard into her lower lip as you do. It’s like a dam breaks all over your body, tension and pleasure exploding through every crack and crevice and it’s easily the best orgasm you’ve ever had. 

It takes a minute for you to recover and when you’re able to think clearly again after Agatha takes her fingers out of you, you notice that her lip is bleeding. 

“Fuck, did I do that?” You ask and she chuckles, tongue darting out to lick it up. You follow the movements and feel the heat inside you coming back. 

She holds the fingers that were inside of you up to your mouth and you suck on them without hesitation. “Don’t worry about it. Not the first time it’s happened,” she teases with a wink and your stomach sinks. Your head moves back so her fingers slip out of you.

“Oh my god, you’re married,” you say and Agatha raises an eyebrow as if to say obviously. “And we’re at a crime scene, what did we just do? There’s a dead body right over there.”

Agatha raises up her hands to disarm the situation. “Hey, don’t think too hard about it. You have a very stressful job, sometimes you just need to blow off some steam.” 

“How are you so calm? You just cheated on your wife!” You snap, quickly zipping and buttoning your pants. The electricity in the air is now gone, completely replaced by cold and fear. You have to get out of here. The Witch and Lady Death are two steps ahead of you and you need to stop them. This was them, and you know it.

You don’t even wait for Agatha to respond, you pick a direction and start walking. She calls your name a few times before you whirl around, tears in your eyes. “Rio and I…have an arrangement of sorts. Trust me, she is completely okay with this.” 

Her words do little to calm you down, but you’re getting closer to the detectives and officers and the coroner’s car has pulled up. “It doesn’t matter. This can’t happen again,” you say sternly. 

“Whatever you want, superstar,” she says and it almost makes you furious. It feels like she’s teasing you, for being with the FBI. Almost as bad as the guys around the station calling you Miami. 

But you don’t argue, you don’t speak at all, you just stand there, a bone-chilling emptiness inside you as you watch the body get wheeled out from the woods after about twenty minutes. Detectives keep searching the surrounding area for any clues, but they find nothing. 

Which doesn’t surprise you at all. Lady Death and The Witch are clever. It just means you have to work harder to catch them. 

“Alright, we got everything here. Forensics is going to do some tests on the blood, see if maybe we can get a DNA match for the killer. Photos of the scene will be printed and ready for us tomorrow,” Agatha says gruffly, walking over to you, the picture of professionalism after being three fingers deep in you not forty-five minutes ago. “You should get home, get some rest.” 

You shake your head and clutch your jacket tighter around you. “I’ve been sleeping for the past few hours. I’m not tired. I can head into the station, if you want. Get a head start on work for tomorrow.” 

Something flickers in Agatha’s eyes, something you don’t quite recognize. “No, that’s okay. Go back to your motel. Even if you don’t sleep, you should still try and relax. Take a warm bath or something. That always helps me clear my head.” 

You frown, but before you can ask what she thinks you need to clear your head from, she pats you on the shoulder and walks to her car. The scene quickly clears out, but there’s something still nagging at you in the back of your mind. 

You can’t leave just yet. 

Grabbing a flashlight from your bag in your car, you wander back through the woods, desperate to find something the officers missed. 

The night passes while you tear up every single rock and leaf and clump of snow on the ground near where the man was murdered. And then you expand the search, walking along the creek edge, flashlight sweeping right and left. Your hands are bright red from the stinging frost, having taken off your gloves ages ago to better dig around, and you’ve lost feeling in your face. Tears are permanently frozen in your eyes it seems, and as the sun starts to break through the darkness, you defeatedly drop to the ground on the bed of the creek. 

You don’t know what you were expecting to find, it was a stupid idea. You’re just about to call it a day and trek back to your car to go into the station, when you see a log just a few yards away. 

Brows crinkling, you wince when you stand up, your joints aching from the cold, and stumble over to it. You shine your flashlight into the opening of the hole and you gasp. 

The light reflects off something shiny. 

This time, you’re smart about it. You put your gloves back on, flashing between your teeth, and you carefully reach inside and brush away the moss to grab onto it and pull it out. 

It’s a knife. 

The discovery makes your heart leap. You found something! This could be your first real break in the case, one step closer to bringing the pair of serial killers down. 

You turn the blade over in your hands to inspect every part of it. Strange, you think. It seems almost like a kitchen knife. The serrated edge isn’t as sharp as it should be if it were meant to be a murder weapon. But when you hold it closer to your face, you can make out specks of blood on it. 

And then there’s something else, an emblem of sorts on the bottom of the blue handle. It says WM with a circle around the letters. 

The first thing you think of is Wanda Maximoff and terror spikes through you. Has she gotten out of jail and come to find you? 

But you are absolutely certain that Tony would’ve called you immediately, so that helps calm you down. Still, you suddenly don’t feel safe in the woods, almost like you’re being watched, so you pocket the knife before sprinting back to your car. 

You slam and lock the doors immediately and you turn the heat all the way up to coax life back into your frozen body. It’s still early, barely even six-thirty am, so you decide to go back to your motel room and shower before you head into the station. 

Your stomach rumbles and you can’t remember the last time you ate. You just pulled an all-nighter (although, you could argue that because you took a nap for about five hours yesterday, that counts as sleep) and you haven’t showered since you’ve been here. 

Tony would kill you. 

Once you get back to your room, you turn on the bath, still feeling the chill deep in your bones. You carefully take the knife out of your coat pocket with a paper towel and lay it on the counter so you can remember to bring it in so Forensics can test it. 

You strip off your sopping wet clothes and get into the bath, moaning out loud at how good the warm water on your tired and shaking body feels. 

Sinking into the tub so every part of you except for your face is submerged, you lean down to turn off the faucet and settle back down. You don’t remember falling asleep, but the next thing you know, you jolt awake and splash about a gallon of water over the edge. 

“Fuck,” you cough, trying to get out of the tub, but your entire body is sore and your head feels awful. 

Apparently there’s consequences for spending over eight hours out in the snow with no gloves and then falling asleep in a bath with water that’s now lukewarm. 

You manage to maneuver yourself out and you quickly grab the robe that was hanging on the bathroom door to wrap around your shivering body. Your phone is on the sink counter and it starts buzzing. It’s Agatha. 

A hand grips the vanity to stable yourself before picking it up. “Hello?” You rasp, grimacing at the effort it takes to speak. 

“Yikes, you sound awful,” she says, teasing tone in her voice. “You okay, superstar? Get a little too much rest last night?”

“I think I’m a little sick,” you admit. You’re usually able to tough it out, but you feel like you died and barely came back to life. “Is it okay if I–” 

“Yes, stay there,” she orders and you almost collapse with relief. 

But then you remember the knife. If you don’t go in, that means it’s another day that The Witch and Lady Death remain free. “I found something last night, in the woods,” you say. “I really need to bring it in.” 

“Whatever it is, it can wait. You just need to take some medicine and get some rest. Do you have anything you can take?” 

You search through the items in your toiletry bag. “I have some Advil.” You pop two in your mouth and swallow it with water from the sink. 

“I’ll text Rio and ask if she can bring over some medicine and maybe some food, too. Go to sleep. I’ll check in with you tomorrow,” she says, and before you can insist that Rio does not come here, she hangs up. 

Groaning, you find that you don’t have it in you to be petulant, so you make your way into bed and you fall asleep the moment your head hits the pillow. 

Snow. 

It’s just started falling, there’s barely an inch on the ground. 

The branches reach for you as you walk through them, trying to grab on and not let you go. The thicket is getting denser and darker, but there’s something calling out to you, so you keep walking. 

There’s a melodic hum, and it lulls you into feeling safe. Is it real? Is it in your head? 

Is there a difference? 

You can barely see three inches in front of you and everything is going black and you can feel wounds being torn into your face and you should really turn back now –

– you break into a clearing. 

Only this time, there’s a willow tree in the middle. You can hear something, it sounds like two women laughing. 

Are they laughing at you? 

It must be the killers, they must be taunting you, rubbing it in how you can’t catch them. 

More people are going to die, and their blood is on your hands. 

The cackling gets louder and louder and then it’s all you can hear and you clamp your hands over your ears begging for it to stop, please, god, let it stop –

– there’s a hand on your shoulder and everything is silent. 

You turn around slowly. Is it them? 

Instead, it’s a man with his eyes closed. He looks vaguely familiar, where have you seen him? 

He opens his eyes and they’re gray and it hits you. 

It’s the dead man. 

He grabs you by the shoulders and his jaw drops to scream, but no sound comes out. And then his hands grab your throat and he starts to squeeze. 

The knocking on the door to your room wakes you up and you fly out of bed, gasping for breath, still feeling the pressure around your throat. It takes a moment to collect your bearings before you realize that you’re safe and the man is dead. 

Still a little shaky, you walk to the door and unlatch it to find Dr. Vidal standing there. 

“Oh, hi,” you greet, stepping to the side so she can come in. It’s hard to meet her eyes after being fucked by her wife the day before. She holds up a container of chicken noodle soup in one hand and a box of cold medicine and a plastic grocery bag in the other. 

“Agatha said you were feeling a little under the weather,” she says, plopping the stuff down on the counter and thankfully avoiding the mounds of photos and case evidence you have right next to it. Including the knife from the woods. “Did I wake you up?” 

You rub your face and feel the pillow indentions in your cheek. “Um, yeah, I was having a bad dream though, so I don’t mind,” you joke and motion for her to take a seat. 

“I would heat up the soup first before eating,” she suggests and you pour it into a bowl and put it in the microwave. “Bad dream? Do you want to talk about it?

“Would it count as a session?”

Dr. Vidal waves her hand. “Not at all. Consider it free advice. So, what happened?” 

The microwave beeps and you open it, the soup steaming. You set it down to cool off a little. “It kind of lines up with those images I had with you and another dream I had yesterday, I think. I don’t really know how to explain it, but I think they’re memories of something? I just don’t remember it. But then there’s some things that change, like today, there was this new dead man. That was recent, so maybe they’re not memories? Maybe I’m just losing my mind.” 

“You’re not losing your mind,” she chuckles. “Dreams and memories, the real and not real, it’s easy to blur the lines. Maybe your unconscious is trying to tell you something, maybe trying to remind you of something that happened to you.” 

That makes you think for a moment. You can see the woods, the snow, whatever you keep seeing, but it’s more of just flashes in time, rather than the whole thing. You can’t see what happens before, or after. “I guess I’ll just have to see if more pieces start coming together,” you say. 

She sighs. “I know it can be confusing and probably really frustrating, but I’ll help you get to the bottom of this. I have some techniques we can try during your session in a few days. I’ll help you claw your way out of whatever this is.” 

“Thank you,” you say gratefully. “What’s in the bag?” You point to the grocery bag and she nods to give you permission. You open it and with a gasp, you find your clothes from yesterday in it, all neatly folded. “How…what…you…” There’s no words. 

“Don’t worry, it’s our little secret,” she says with a wink. 

You have to grab onto the edge of the counter so you don’t pass out. “Wait, did we…” 

“Have sex?” She asks bluntly and you’re too afraid to move. “No, we didn’t. If we did, you would remember it.” 

The thrumming starts to come back behind your eyes, despite the blush at her flirtatious words. “So, how do you have my clothes?” 

“You better eat your soup before it gets cold,” Dr. Vidal sidesteps the question and it’s clear that you’re not getting an answer. 

You slide open the drawer next to the fridge and pull out a spoon from the silverware caddy. A sharp pain sears through your head and your heart starts to race. 

The spoon has the same blue handle and emblem as the knife does. WM. Westview Motel. The spoon clatters to the ground and you begin furiously counting. Six forks. Six spoons. 

Five knives. 

When they were in your room your first night in Westview, they must’ve taken it from here. 

They’re trying to frame you. 

[mind-intheclouds342]

Do it for them - Co-captain reader x Curly

Previous - Part 9 - Next

You banged on the door of the room where that man was locked up, waking him up abruptly.

"Let's talk"

Jimmy: "I thought visiting hours were over."

He complained, turning around to turn his back to the door.

"Don't try to be funny with me, Jimmy. What the hell did we do to deserve so much hate from you?"

Jimmy: "Don't play innocent, you know very well what you did!"

"Honestly, I have no idea! That's why I'm asking you!"

Jimmy: "Of course, because I was always the shadow of your dear husband. You never turned to look at me again after you got with him, you never smiled at me like you did with him, you didn't even speak to me. It was as if I were invisible to you!"

"Oh, of course I was looking at you!"

Jimmy: "Then why didn't you ever tell me anything?!"

He shouted that, getting up from his bed to head towards the glass that separated them, watching your face to see you when you replied.

"BECAUSE I'VE ALWAYS HATED YOU!"

You screamed with all your lungs, to the point of making your throat hurt.

"You always brought trouble to Curly! He was always so naive, a sucker for approval, of being the good guy in the story, of not letting anyone down! That's why he never abandoned you! I knew better that's why i stopped talking with you! Because you were and are a piece of shit!" 

Jimmy: "Oh, but you talk as if I were the only fucked up one in the story."

"Yes! I admit it! I was also a mess when I met Curly, but I did something, I was able to see beyond that mess I was, he showed me that I could improve, he gave me opportunities that I knew how to take advantage of and become a better person! In someone who could make his mother proud instead of making her cry because she didn't know if he was coming home or not!"

There was a silence when you finished saying that, until you saw him smirk, that reaction you didn't like at all.

Jimmy: "You're right, Curly loves to please, you should know that very well."

"Ugh, for the love of God, I don't know why I try to reason with you, it's impossible."

Jimmy: "But you were the only one who refused to give in to make me happy."

You opened your eyes wide upon hearing that, turning again to the man who still wore that smug smile.

Jimmy: "Just as beautiful and messed up as I am, I thought you would understand me, but then you became a good girl, yet I still hoped you would look at me..."

"Shut up-"

Jimmy: "Oh, and the damn way Curly talked about you, how incredible you are, so kind, hardworking, so beautiful."

"I tell you to shut up-"

Jimmy: "Those lovely moles in the center of your chest that look like a constellation"

"He wouldn't talk about those things with you!"

Jimmy: "I saw it myself"

You felt like you were going to puke at that moment, you didn't want to believe that he had really done something like that to you while you were unconscious, you didn't want your suspicions to be confirmed, you refused to believe it.

"Liar. Anya wouldn't leave me alone, she would lock the nursery door-" 

Jimmy: "Yes, yes, she did that, it was a pain in the ass. Every night when she went to sleep, she locked the nursery with that code that only Curly and she knew... But that place wasn't closed while someone was inside."

"She wouldn't let you get close to me!"

Jimmy: "They were so sweet, Anya staying by your side saying she had to make sure all your signs were okay, and when she left, she would ask Swansea if he could keep an eye on you. But he was so depressed that he didn't dare to stay with you for long, so... I took his place to make sure you were okay."

"In front of Curly..."

You murmured at having to imagine the scene your husband had to witness without being able to do anything about it other than watch.

Jimmy: "That was the funniest thing"

You hugged tightly, feeling a horrible tingling all over your body, as if you were dirty.

Jimmy: "Swansea had no idea about anything, Anya didn't want to talk about it with anyone else. Thanks to her silence, I was able to finally look at that body that you always hide from me, thanks to Swansea's stupidity and feeling sad for his little captain, feeling all guilty and shit."

Swansea: "What did he just say..." 

You turned to see Swansea at the end of the hallway, carrying Jimmy's rations, holding an axe firmly in the other hand; he had managed to hear everything.

"Swansea-"

Swansea: "Open the door, captain"

"Listen - it's not worth it, do you have any idea what they'll do to you if they find out you hurt someone from the crew? Please, I don't want them to lock you up." 

You said immediately, positioning yourself in front of him, trying to get him to see you, but his eyes were glued to the door where he could see Jimmy's face.

Swansea: "How are they going to know? Let's say it was an accident. Open the door!"

You wanted to keep reasoning with him, but you couldn't deny that you also wished he would face consequences for his actions.

You took the axe from his hands, making him look at you annoyed.

"I won't take the risk of you killing him."

Those were your last words before opening the door, Swansea didn't take much more than a few seconds to fully open the door, step inside, and throw himself at Jimmy.

You could hear the sound of the blows, the insults, and the screams.

You stood at the door wide open, axe in hand, watching as the blood spread across the floor with each blow Swansea dealt.

You watched Jimmy and tilted your head, waiting for him to defend himself.

You wouldn't hesitate to cut off his hands if he touched Swansea.

[lgbtlunaverse]

Fandom is so nice to Jiang Cheng's inferiority complex because in reality every single thing he gets accused of is something Wei Wuxian is better at than him.

Jiang Cheng killed Wei Wuxian? Nope. Didn't even get close. Wei Wuxian's own spirits tore him apart before jc could even get there. wwx:1 jc:0

Jiang Cheng tortures people? We get two and a half rumours and a mention from jin ling that jc has 'captured' demonic cultivators before, but who is also apparently confident that just letting wwx run off will kill the issue even though those earlier rumours said ~no one who sandu shengshou captured was ever seen again~

The word jiang cheng uses when he tries to talk big game about 'beating the truth' out of Wei Wuxian's is a word that carries the context of pestering someone to do their homework. Doesn't exactly strike fear into my heart.

Wei Wuxian? Excellent at torture. A prodigy. Did you fucking see what he did to Wen Chao? Dude didn't have fingers anymore because wei wuxian made him eat them. He ripped out his hair, burned his skin off, and then stalked him for several days just to prolong the pain. He forced Wang Lingjiao to bite Wen Chao's dick off and then made her shove a stool leg down her own throat! 10/10, no notes. Absolutely horrifying.

Meanwhile Jiang Cheng's idea of torture is getting a dog to bark at Wei Wuxian for a few seconds. Weak, unoriginal, I bet fairy was literally wagging her tail the whole time. 2-0

Jiang Cheng made the entire cultivation world believe Wei Wuxian was up to no good on the burial mounds and ultimately orchestrated his downfall? lol. lmao, even

It's a big thing in certain corners of the fandom to really zoom in one one particular phrase at the end of chapter 73, where after wwx and jc have their staged duel to make the world believe they hate each other jiang cheng tells everyone wwx has defected and become "a public enemy'' or "an enemy to the cultivation world" or whatever the translation you're familiar with decided upon.

(As an aside, something I really like about this line is that the last half of it is almost exactly the same, like verbatim, as what wwx told him to say. like, the chapter is really hammering home just how much jc is speaking from a script here. wwx tells jc to say "今后魏无羡��论做出什么事，都与云梦江氏无关." and jc says "今后无论此人有何动作，一概与云梦江氏无关" the only meaningful difference is that he says 'this person' instead of wwx's name)

I've seen it said that this bit, the use of 'enemy' was said without wei wuxian's approval, that jc deviated from the script just to hurt his ex-shixiong for leaving him. And that this is what caused all the other clans to turn against wei wuxian. Regardless of if this is what jc and wwx discussed, or if jc had malicious motivations for it (considering my conclusions above, you can guess where i fall) it doesn't really matter, because the novel tells us when the clans completely freak out and become convinced wei wuxian is out to get them (though of course they've been wringing their hands about it since the literal day wwx ran off with the wen, months before jiang cheng visited) very neatly in chapter 75!

It's when they find out about Wen Ning.

And how do they find out about Wen Ning?

Because Wei Wuxian took him on nighthunts! And they kicked ass!

...Wei Wuxian, my man, why are you on nighthunts??? Why are you showing off your incredibly cool sentient fierce corpse buddy, who is way better and stronger than all the other fierce corpses, in front of the whole cultivation world??

Whatever his motivations (extra money, maybe?? they were strapped for crash) I can only draw the conclusion wwx had already given up on appearing calm or non-threatening and didn't care if the clans thought he was a threat, because they'd believe whatever they wanted anyway. Which he seems to clearly be aware of the whole time.

Regardless, we know that this is what created the myth of the Yiling patriarch. It's literally when the title first shows up!

Even if you really believe jc was secretly plotting against wwx in chapter 73, he's clearly doing a shit job of it because nothing he said made anywhere near as big an impact as this. Flopped!

The other point people use to argue Jiang Cheng caused wei wuxian's downfall is Jin Guangyao's speech in Guanyin temple about how jiang cheng could have saved wei wuxian if only he stood by him. Setting aside that jin guangyao is trying to get into jiang cheng's head here, and isn't necessarily saying what he really believes (though it very well might be! who knows with a character like jgy. assuming he's always lying is just as misleading as assuming he's always saying the truth) the fact is, if you read the speech closely, what he's talking about is not the 'public enemy' line, he's talking about the bond between them. The fact that people wanted wei wuxian out of yunmeng jiang, because the two were too powerful together.

He's talking about that one time Jiang Cheng very publically kicked wei wuxian out of the sect!

Which, unbeknownst to Jin Guangyao, was in fact Wei Wuxian's idea the whole time.

final score: 3 for you wei wuxian, you go wei wuxian! And nothing for Jiang Cheng bye.

[definitelynotabirthblog]

A School Birth

This is a story I've been working on for a few days now. While the birthing character is a school girl, she is still intended to be aged 18. I hope you enjoy it.

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"Jessica Bailey, is that you? Jessica, you've not been seen since third period. What on earth is going on? Jessica - Jess?"

James hurried into the empty classroom and found the sobbing girl crouched on all fours in the corner, half hidden by a desk. Her flushed, terrified face gazed as him as she rocked back and forth, her school uniform drenched in sweat. Her legs were bare but her shoes and tights were nowhere to be seen. There was puddles and splatters of liquid all over the floor and her belongings had been flung to the side, the contents of her bag spilling out.

He had hurried into the room presuming a telling off and possibly a detention for sneaking away from class would be all he would need to give, but he had chanced upon a scene he could not have expected. The girl was clearly incredibly distressed, her tear-streaked eyes pleading for help.

He half jogged over to her and squatted down by her shoulders. She flinched when he touched her.

"Jess, what is it? Why are you screaming?"

"Oooooh! Oooooh!" she shrieked, rocking her hips slowly. Her breathing was coming in quick, shallow breaths, as though she was hyperventilating.

He noticed blood had pebbledashed her calves as she hunched over and wondered it she was menstruating.

"Jess, did you get your period? Is that what hurts?" he asked, silently thinking that this charade was a bit of an over reaction for a period.

As her breathing eased, she shook her head, tears still falling down her cheeks.

"Jess, sweetheart, if it's not your period, then what on earth is it?"

Jess continued to cry, shaking her head desperately.

"Jessica, sit up. I can't help you if you don't tell me what is wrong. Come on now." Starting to feel frustrated, he took her arm and tried to ease her into a sitting position. Reluctantly, she forced her body to stay upright, clutching the desk for support.

"That's better. Now tell me what the matter is. I can see you're in a lot of pain." He rubbed her arm reassuringly.

Jess burst into fresh floods of tears. However, at this angle he could get a better look at her. She hadn't been in any of his classes this year so he hadn't spent much time with her recently. As he assessed the situation, his eyes moved down to her school shirt. She had always been a slender girl so why was it fitting her so tightly all of a sudden? And, as she was normally as flat as a pancake, why was her belly stuck out so much? With a jolt of realisation, as suddenly as someone had turned on light switch, he put the blood on her legs, her bellows of pain that he had heard from another building and the puddles of liquid on the flood together with her round belly and found a single question forming on his lips.

"Jess, are you pregnant?"

Screwing her face up in pain as another pain overwhelmed her, she nodded and got back down onto her hands and knees, where she began rocking her way through the contraction. "Arghhhhhh!"

Panicking, he felt for his phone in his trouser pocket. He stomach sank as he realised he had left his phone in his own classroom when he came to investigate. No one ever came in this building now, not since the new building opened in September so the chances of someone else coming across the scene was low.

"Can you feel baby coming now?"

She nodded again, her breaths ragged between her cries.

"Okay... okay... you're okay, it's alright, I'm here," he said, more to reassure himself than her. Trying to not spiral into panic, he thought back to his only experience of childbirth, his own childrens' births. His wife refused to let him be down at the business end so he spent most of those days rubbing her back and having his hand squeezed. He looked at Jess now, her body close to convulsing with pain, the sound of fluid dripping onto the floor between her shaking legs and knew he had had to act. It was time to play midwife.

"I need to take a look at you, just to see if I can see anything, Jess. Do you mind if I lift your skirt up?" he asked hesitantly.

Too deep in her own world as the pain overcame her, Jess barely heard him and could not respond. Acknowledging that a baby was coming within a matter of minutes, he got up and repositioned himself so he was kneeling directly behind her and gently lifted up her skirt. Between her two pale buttocks, he saw her brownish-pink asshole which bulged with the pressure of her baby's head in her rectum. Beneath her stretched perenium, the inch-wide, dark patch of her newborn's head was slowly forcing its way out of her body. More fluid spurted from under the head onto the floor between her legs as the contraction peaked.

"Shit, shit, shit," he whispered, quickly taking off his jacket and putting it between her knees. He thought back to his youngest son's birth, scrambling for anything in his memory of it which might help now. As the contraction tailed off, her breathing eased again.

"Jess?"

"W-what?" she panted.

"I can see baby's head. Erm, when the next pain comes, I want you to push as hard as you can, alright?"

"I didn't realise it was going to hurt so much!" she whispered, her voice cracking.

"I know it hurts, sweetheart. But you've done so well already and I promise I'm going to do my best to help you have this baby safely," he reassured her.

As the next contraction pulled Jess back into her world of pain, she bore down. The noises coming out of her mouth, raw and primal, could only be described as roars as, inch by torturous inch, the baby came slowly out of her body. As the head emerged further, her labia stretching more with each push, James had a flashback to something the midwife told his wife as she was about to crown.

"Jess, instead of pushing, can you just try to blow for me. Like you're blowing out candles. Like this - hooo, hooo, hooo," he demonstrated.

"Hooo, hooo, hooo, hooo," Jess breathed.

The head descended futher, swirls of wet hair now visible on the infant's head.

"Good girl, Jess!"

"Hooo, hooo, hooo, hooo... Arghhhhhh!" she screamed, the widest part of the head of now slipping out of her vagina. "Oh god, it burns!"

"Just keep breathing for me."

Finally, the whole head popped out with another splash of fluid.

"The head's out! I'm ready to catch, okay?" He carefully balanced the head in his hands. Seconds later, the baby turned so it was facing Jess's left thigh. Another contraction came and she started to push, grunting and groaning. The first shoulder slid out closely followed by the second as he carefully supported the slippery body. The rest of the baby then dropped into his arms with a gush of fluid. The baby cried lustily, feeling fresh air on its body for the first time.

"Jess... Jess... you did it. It's okay," he said, looking down at the squirming infant. Jess could only cry in relief, as she crouched on her hands and knees.

James lowered the baby down on his jacket between Jess's legs.

"I'm bringing the baby through your legs, okay?"

He pushed the screaming infant through its mother's legs. Using the desk leg to support herself up into a sitting position, she pulled her firstborn from between her thighs and up to her chest. James repositioned himself so he was knelt by Jess's side, where he found himself putting his arm around her shoulders.

'My word, Jess Bailey, you've lead us a merry dance today!" he exclaimed.

[ciciyup]

Pack Wolf X Fem! Reader who doesn't reciprocate his feelings headcanons.

Summary: In their wanderings, they find their imprint as soon as they see her for the first time; However, she doesn't seem to feel the same way.

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Sam Uley:

Seeing you for the first time, he would have almost involuntarily gotten down on his knees if it hadn't been that they were in a public place and you were accompanied. It was something unique, something he didn't expect, but there you were, and Sam felt the need to get close to you no matter what. Him approaching you to talk about whatever as an excuse to get to know you wasn't rough enough; he needed to see you again.

As soon as he brought up any kind of topic he noticed how incredibly kind you were when you addressed him, but he also noticed how you didn't even seem to be feel the same. There was no spark in your eyes, no accelerated breathing, no special something that seemed to unite you. You were supposed to be soulmates, weren't you? You were supposed to be perfect for each other, so why as time went on did you seem to treat him like any other normal person? Why wasn't there "that" something in your eyes when you looked at him? Sam had imprinted himself on you, he knew it, everyone knew it, but they also seemed to notice his constant attempts to be closer to you, his constant silent pain.

You treated him well of course, you were friendly to everyone on the reservation, you were sweet to Sam more than he could ask for, but he still didn’t seem to be strong enough with his advances for you to see him the way he was expected. Even after explaining his secret and about the imprint, you seemed to try to feel a connection with him; you spent time by his side, you did everything you could, but the feeling just didn’t seem to be there. No matter how hard you tried you couldn’t feel the connection and as time went on you began to wear yourself out and try to find something that just wasn’t there. Finally explaining to him that you couldn’t go on and giving him a clear rejection.

Even though your rejection seemed to hurt him much more than expected, he decided to suffer in silence, prioritizing your feelings over his. Sam would become understanding and calm, not losing his temper, even though he knew how painful it would be, knowing that imprinting shouldn't be forced. Though promising that if only you wanted him, he would be there for you, a good friend or brother, even a companion. Imprinting would involve prioritizing your well-being above all else, so Sam would do everything he could to make sure you were happy and safe, even if that meant keeping his distance so as not to make you uncomfortable.

Though Sam would try to be understanding, the pain he felt was indescribable. Even though you hadn't cut him out of your life completely, just being so far away from you would be hard to handle, starting to feel internal conflict due to the intensity of the imprint itself, having moments where it's hard for him to deal with the lack of reciprocity, seeking support in his pack or those closest to him to handle his emotions.

If you allowed them to stay close, even without a romantic bond, Sam would try to be a reliable friend, being there for you when you needed it, a shoulder to cry on, someone to tell your problems to; whatever you wanted, he would do it. Acting quite mature and empathetic, focusing on what's best for you, even if it meant giving up his own feelings.

Paul Lahote:

Being someone with an explosive temper, Paul probably wouldn't handle rejection well. Trying to get close to you intensely as soon as he meets you, mistaking your lack of reciprocation for shyness or fear towards him, as if you weren't looking at him confused enough since you barely know him and he already seemed to know you all your life. Even though you treated him friendly, he could immediately tell that there didn't seem to be that emotion in your chest upon meeting him, leading to frustration with the pack, following him on the way home, trying to reassure him and explain to him that it would take some time and you would finally agree. It didn't.

Despite his frustration, the instinct to protect you would be greater, as seeing you every few days wouldn't be enough to calm him down, frequently showing up to make sure you were okay, even without you asking, which could seem invasive.

Over time, Paul would have several changes in attitude; The great irritability would be clear to everyone in the pack, and the growing, unstoppable pain would lead him to have fits of rage at anyone who crossed his path, though he would avoid taking it out on you, deciding to walk away, which only made it worse by being away from you. He would feel hurt and disoriented, not being able to understand how it was possible that you didn’t feel the same; you were made for each other, he had imprinted on you. Why was nothing happening? Why was it different with you when you were supposed to be the perfect match for each other?

You tried, you seemed to try many times, more than you could imagine, wishing you could feel the same so that both of your suffering would end, but it wasn’t like that; you couldn’t manage to feel anything and you couldn’t force yourself any further.

Although Paul was unconditionally devoted to you because of the imprint, he would also begin to realize that forcing your feelings was not only unfair to you, but painful to both of you. Trying to stay away and trying to figure out how to handle the situation. Even though Paul was stubborn, he wasn't completely insensitive. His loyalty to the pack and its values would drive him to show respect for your feelings and be a silent support for you. Understanding that imprinting didn't mean control or obligation for you, he would start to act more understanding and respectful, prioritizing what you wanted. Still, he couldn't help but care about you, protecting you whether silently or not from any danger, be it supernatural or human, trying to do so discreetly so as not to make you uncomfortable.

With time and the help of Sam or the other pack members, Paul could accept that their bond cannot be forced. Choosing to be close to you as a friend or support in your life if you so desired, and if so, he would remain as someone protective and loyal, focusing on your well-being and happiness. Although rejection would not be easy for Paul, as he would feel a void in not being able to live the fullness he expected from imprinting, he would learn to accept it with resignation and maturity and less impulsiveness. Even without reciprocation, Paul would continue to feel a connection and be willing to do or be whatever you wanted without expecting anything in return.

Embry Call:

He had always heard about the stories of imprinting and its importance; most of his companions in the pack already had their imprints, although he understood it, he never really understood it, until he met you. It was a very strong pass on the ball, making his companions ask him to go get it, being the closest, and at the edge of the water there was you, who quickly grabbed the ball that was hitting your feet to give it to its owner.

The first contact was different, very different from what Embry had imagined; everything seemed to stop after seeing you, the waves of the sea and the noise of his companions playing seemed far away and took a backseat; everything was reduced only to you. Approaching somewhat nervously, not knowing how to act, he managed to have a brief chat with you, internally hoping that you would agree to see him again. Yes, of course he had noticed your great lack of emotion or bright eyes; It wasn't how his companions had told him in their own experiences, but Embry wanted to believe that maybe it was different with you, maybe it would take a little longer.

Although he approached it with patience and understanding, he would still be confused after not noticing any change in his advances towards you without achieving anything, trusting more than he should, with a silent hope that, with time, you could come to feel something for him. However, he would never act selfishly to force this possibility.

Embry would begin to experience an internal struggle during the following days. Sure, he felt a deep and unbreakable connection towards you, but, on the other hand, the lack of reciprocity on your part would cause him emotional pain. Although he would not be upset with anyone, much less with you, the feeling would squeeze his chest tightly. At those times he would try to seek help from the pack, trying to understand and deal with his pain, some of them even trying to advise him or encourage him to focus on your needs instead of his feelings so he wouldn't suffer so much.

In the face of your rejection, Embry would react immediately; the pain was inevitable, but the imprinting would lead him to accept this reality, putting his personal feelings on the back burner. Even if you didn't feel anything towards him, Embry would dedicate his life to protecting and supporting you, your well-being being his priority. Behaving gently, making sure not to cross boundaries that would make you feel uncomfortable. Being close to you when you needed him, acting as a calm and reliable guardian. He would try to establish a friendly relationship with you if you wanted it. Trying to understand your interests, your passions and the things that made you happy, adapting to your needs. Probably looking to spend time with you casually, so that the pain of separation in the bond that united you didn't hurt him too much, but at the same time he would try not to suffocate or overwhelm you. Trying to maintain a fun and relaxed attitude to make you feel comfortable and maintain a good atmosphere.

If you were to express at any point that you needed space or didn't want a close relationship, he would accept it, even though it would inevitably hurt him. Embry would completely respect your wishes and feelings, as well as your boundaries. Imprinting would guide him to be patient and understanding, willing to wait or just accept whatever you decided. Even if you didn't feel the same way, it would be hard for Embry to stay completely away because of the bond. Trying to be close in indirect ways, helping you without you realizing it, or making sure you were safe.

Although Embry would accept anything you asked him to be or do, he would act with great devotion, dealing with his own pain with dignity, striving to be positive in your life. The situation would be somewhat complicated and painful, but his character would allow him to find ways to cope with it without ceasing to be faithful to the bond that has been created, putting your happiness and well-being above all, only wishing the best for you, even if that meant seeing you with another person.

Quil Ateara:

At first, he might not fully understand why he was attracted to someone in particular, as it wouldn’t be something that happened consciously, but rather something instinctive. Seeing you for the first time only makes him feel confused and disoriented; he knows that he is something strong, something unique, needing to be closer to you.

His protective and caring nature would come to the fore, making him inclined to do everything he could to get closer to you and interact in some way. His pack mates would explain this to him as the poor boy seemed to still be just as confused, though unable to answer their questions as to why you didn’t seem as interested or why you didn’t seem to view him with the same affection and devotion as he had when they had first met; perhaps Sam would step in explaining that it would all be a matter of time.

While Quil would be understanding because of their bond, he would quickly become aware that you didn’t feel the same way. He could tell just by looking at you; When he arrived, There wasn't that emotion when I saw it, even if it had only been a few hours since you'd seen each other, noticing your gestures and your efforts to try to find something that didn't seem to be there, that tiredness of continuing to try something you couldn't force and that sudden distance.

This initial rejection could make him feel hurt, even if your actions weren't intentional. The pack members would be a constant support for him, but he would experience the pain internally. The impression is a powerful thing; this would make Quil put aside his regrets and feelings in order to understand you, beginning to respect your wishes and not force a relationship; however, his emotions would still be intense. He would become more attentive and protective, trying to help you in any way he could, trying to gain your trust without rushing things. He would show himself as a close friend or even a brother, doing things you liked, showing a more relaxed part of himself so you wouldn't feel pressured or uncomfortable. His desire to take care of you might be something that expresses itself in less obvious ways, such as making sure you're okay in everyday situations or trying to make you feel special.

If you were to continue to reject any attempts at closeness, whether romantic or emotional, Quil could go through severe pain due to imprinting. His nature would push him to fight for you in whatever ways necessary to even have some sort of relationship with you, even if it was minimal, but his respect for your own boundaries would keep him in check. Acceptance would be difficult, but over time, Quil could learn to live with the deep connection he feels towards you, without trying to pressure you. Making it clear to you that he would be there for you if you wanted it, like a brother or a friend, taking your health and happiness as a priority, and if you were to continue not wanting any interaction with him then Quil would accept it, prudently staying away, even trying to take care of you silently, since the bond would not let him go away completely.

Although he would approach the subject with enough maturity and patience, the pain would still be there and would not go away completely, affected by the events and why it had not worked out as expected with him regarding the imprint. He would leave room for you to make your own decisions without interfering and accepting what you wanted, but even deep down wishing that one day you could feel the same as he felt for you.

Jared Cameron:

He's confused. The imprint was supposed to be an unbreakable and deep bond, something that makes you feel like the person you're imprinted with is the only one who can fulfill your deepest needs, just as the other person should feel, in a way, the same, practically incomplete if the other wasn't there. What had gone wrong? You make him feel a great desire to protect and care for you, but in the face of this the reality check comes faster than he could prevent, realizing that you don't actually share the same feeling.

His astonishment was inexplicable, since it was incredible how in one moment he was playing with his companions and in the next seconds he saw you and everything seemed to stop. The experience was transformative and overwhelming, but it also came with the weight of understanding that you didn't feel the same. Jared can realize it, perhaps not quickly enough to notice it the first time he sees you, trying to deal with his own feelings in between, but as the days go by and as he gets closer to you, he could tell. He understood it immediately; He couldn't force you to love him on the same level. It seemed to hit him like a bucket of cold water, trying to process it as maturely as he could, but with it came frustration due to the unbreakable connection he felt and the lack of reciprocation from you; it was a constant, throbbing pain that he never imagined feeling.

The imprint bond would make him understand in part that he couldn't rush or force your feelings, just as his own personal integrity would make him understand and cope with it. He would make him respectful of your space, being kind and calm. Adopting a supportive stance, hoping that, in time, you would come to understand and accept the connection between you with or without a relationship in between.

Jared would feel a strong need to protect you due to the imprint. Driving him to be close, more than you would want. Despite his desires to be close to you, Jared would be aware of his limits, avoiding being evasive, but intervening discreetly if you were in danger. Even though the imprint makes him feel like you are his “everything,” he would understand the need to not be dominant or possessive, given that you don’t share the same feelings. Even though your rejection was already expected by him, when it comes, it seems harder to digest than he had imagined. Knowing that this was what you wanted, Jared would respect it by putting aside his thoughts and feelings to please you, trying to balance his desire to be close to you with the need to give you space and time to process what was happening.

Over time Jared would learn not to idealize this in a destructive way, even though the bond makes him think that you are the person he is meant to be with, he also understands that nothing can be forced. And even if you weren’t ready to feel the same or directly didn’t want anything with him, Jared wouldn’t pressure you, but he wouldn’t stop being there, waiting patiently.

Seth Clearwater:

When he first saw you, the world seemed to stop. The connection was instant and overwhelming; the imprint completely transformed him. Of course, he had heard of his pack mates and often saw them with their mates, but this seemed to be something much more intense than Seth could have imagined. You become the center of his universe, not just as a potential mate, but as someone to protect and care for no matter the consequences. The intensity of the feeling overwhelms him, but also fills him with hope and happiness.

Being sweet and genuine, Seth would not force his presence in your life, but would instead seek to approach you in a natural way. Starting with a few casual one-liners about the day, following it up with a few topics that led him to ask for your name, as well as his presence and humor, would have him confidently asking you to see him again. The following days he would show his kinder and more generous side: helping you with small things, making you laugh and spending time by your side as someone unconditional.

Over time, Seth would notice that, although you appreciated him and enjoyed his company, you showed no signs of feeling something deeper. Perhaps he would have noticed it much earlier, but he wanted to lie to himself believing that it was just a matter of time. Although his advances continued to be noticeable, you seemed to no longer enjoy the more intimate approach, which led you to confess that your feelings were not the same as those he had for you. This would be devastating for Seth, since the imprint was not something he could control or diminish. Despite this, Seth would not allow himself to blame or pressure you, understanding that everything should be free and mutual.

He would begin to go through an internal process of sadness and acceptance; his innate kindness would keep him focused on what was best for you. Although it would be painful for him to observe how you did not feel the same, he would commit to staying in your life in the way you wanted. In private he would lean on the pack, who comforted him and gave him advice, especially Leah, who would understand his pain due to her own experiences, helping him deal with the emotional burden.

Seth would continue to be a part of your life if you wanted him to be, and if not, then he would accept it with great internal pain, but accepting of your wishes, watching over you from the shadows. He would never impose his feelings on you or expect you to reciprocate, seeking the best for you. And if you wanted to cut contact completely, then Seth would accept it without complaint no matter how much pain it caused him, putting your feelings before anything else.

Despite the pain, Seth would maintain his hopeful nature by looking for ways to adapt, learning to handle his unrequited feelings and channeling them into something positive. He would dedicate himself to protecting you from a distance or focusing on strengthening relationships with his family and pack. Over time he could learn to balance his imprint with his own need to move on, although the connection would never completely disappear.

Jacob Black:

He had always found the subject of imprinting strange and even aberrant; seeing how his companions seemed to abandon themselves so that someone else could practically take them as if they were their own to do with as they pleased was simply something Jacob didn't seem to or wanted to understand. Everything changed when he saw you; he now understood what everyone was talking about. He feels the powerful pull of imprinting, an unbreakable bond that reconfigures his world around you. His senses sharpen, his heart beats hard, and the need to be close to you becomes overwhelming. In that instant you become his absolute priority, overriding any other connection or concern.

Jacob would look for ways to approach you naturally, using his charisma and sense of humor as tools to gain your trust. He would try to become a close and constant friend in your life, willing to listen to you, support you, and protect you from any danger, even if you weren't aware of the extent of his commitment.

Over time, Jacob would probably manage to become an important figure in your life. He would accompany you in your everyday problems, offering you solutions or simply his presence. His actions, driven by imprinting, would be selfless and focused on your well-being. However, as the relationship progresses, he begins to notice that although you appreciate him and feel comfortable, you show no signs of developing feelings towards him. Although you try hard to give and surrender to him, you know that you cannot match his commitment; despite your constant attempts, you just don’t succeed.

Once you confess to Jacob and give him the clear rejection, he would experience an emotional storm. His pain would not come from the rejection itself, but from the inability to fulfill what he perceives as his purpose: to make you happy. It would make him rethink and ask himself if he is doing something wrong or if he is meant to live with those one-sided feelings. Even though he wants you to see him the same way, he wouldn’t try to pressure or manipulate you due to imprinting forcing him to prioritize your desires and well-being over his own. Even though you didn’t feel the same way, Jacob wouldn’t be able to emotionally detach himself. He would continue to care for you, making sure you were safe. He would try to find comfort in friendship, focusing on being a support in your life without expecting anything in return.

If you wished instead to have no relationship with him at all, wanting to cut off contact, even though he would feel deeply hurt, Jacob would respect your decision. Having to fight his own instincts to not constantly seek you out, even going so far as to feel great constant pain and guilt, would lead him to isolate himself from the pack and his friends, constantly morphing to release pent-up tension and emotions, feeling unable to explain his suffering or find comfort.

Even though others in the pack couldn’t fully understand the pain of an unrequited imprint, they would offer comfort and support; Even Sam would try to guide him to handle his feelings so that the bond wouldn't be so painful.

Jacob would learn to deal with frustration and pain, taking comfort in secretly caring for you if you didn't want him around, and if that wasn't it, then he would settle for being a good friend in your life. Despite the lack of reciprocity, the bond wouldn't fade. The imprint is eternal, and although the pain might soften with time, he would always feel a special connection to you.

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[wosola]

French kisses .1 - Lucy Bronze x French!Reader

Hey everyone! I’m J. I used to write fanfiction on Wattpad for another fandom, but for a while now, I’ve mostly just been reading. Lately, I’ve been spending a lot of time on AO3, where I started reading WoSo fanfics and fell into @bruhnze’s incredible works. After reading everything she’d published, I found her on Tumblr.

Recently, @bruhnze announced she was taking a break from writing. We connected, and I had the absolute honor of reading through her WIPs. One of them really inspired me, so I asked if I could finish it—and she said yes!

Originally planned as a single fic, this story grew into a 3-parter as I worked on it 🫣😅 Long story short: WIP by @bruhnze, finished by me, and proofread by her.

Summary: This is during Lucy Bronze’s time playing for Lyon, she's just gotten into a relationship with R, a 22-year-old student. For R it is the first time sleeping with someone. Based on this request, from the☀️anon over on @bruhnze.

Warnings: This is an 18+ fanfic with explicit content, so minors do not interact.

You had grown up in Lyon, lived there all your life. It had never been particularly eventful—your life was great, really. You loved your studies, had a close-knit group of friends, and there wasn’t much more to it.

The only thing that seemed to be missing, or at least it was something that was out of sync with your friends, was your love life. At 22, you had never really had one. While everyone around you seemed to be hooking up left, right and center, it never quite worked out that way for you. Not that you didn’t want to; you did.

It was just that you had never met anyone who stirred something in you in your everyday life. Sure, you’d kissed people now and then, but whenever things started to go further, you found yourself pulling back.

As time passed, being a virgin at your big age started to feel a bit strange. You were well past the point where a one-night stand felt like the right way to lose your virginity. Maybe it was because you didn’t know how to navigate all of that, or maybe you were worried that whoever you were with wouldn’t expect it and you’d feel awkward.

But in the blessed year 2017, as fate would have it, everything changed when you met a cute English girl in the local supermarché.

She had been struggling to find something on the shelves, her expression a mix of confusion and determination, when you decided to offer her a hand. The girl, who introduced herself as Lucy, explained in broken French that she had just moved to Lyon.

You helped her find what she was looking for, and as a thank you, Lucy asked for your number. You laughed and teased her, asking what she planned to do with it.

She had grinned, the corners of her eyes crinkling, and in her charmingly imperfect French, she replied, "the least I can do is buy the pretty girl who helped me a dinner." That made you laugh harder, and when you joked about her not knowing any good restaurants yet, she just shrugged and said, "then you can decide where we go."

She had this boldness that was as charming as it was disarming—and, okay, maybe her being absurdly good-looking didn’t hurt in swaying your answer either. It was a yes without doubt, however towards Lucy you stayed a bit more unfazed.

That was a few months ago. Now, Lucy was much more comfortable with her French, picking it up quicker than you’d expected.

And not only was the woman smart, she was also incredibly athletic, which you'd noticed from the start. But on your fifth date, when you two had gone swimming, you couldn’t help but be floored by how fit she really was.

It wasn’t just her body, though—Lucy was thoughtful, kind, funny and so much more. You saw that side of her when she came with you to visit your grandpa in the hospital, bringing him a Lyon shirt signed by a player as a gift. You almost cried, you’d only mentioned that your grandpa was a life long fan of the club and here she was, gifting a signed shirt to him?!

That’s how you found out she was a footballer. Lucy had handed the signed jersey to your grandfather, grinning with that mischievous spark in her eye. “Hope you don’t mind it’s from a pretty new signing,” she’d teased. Then, with a playful glint, she added, “But I’ve heard she’s world-class. Do you know any players from Olympique Lyonnais Féminin? I can get another autograph if this one doesn’t impress you.”

Without skipping a beat, your grandfather, his face lighting up, assured her he did, mentioning that he always tried to catch matches, even if he mostly had to listen rather than watch due to his eyesight. “This is number 22, Bronze. She’s a great defender,” he said with pride. “I was thrilled when they signed her. Do you know her from England, or how did you manage to get this autograph?”

Your jaw nearly dropped as you glanced over at Lucy, who was barely holding back a smile.

“Yeah, you could say I’m close with her. Some say we’re practically twins,” she joked before reaching out to shake his hand. “But actually, I am Lucy Bronze. Nice to meet you, sir.”

Your grandfather’s laughter was as genuine as you’d heard in ages, his disbelief quickly turning into a delighted grin. It was as if he couldn’t believe his luck.

“I won’t let you down,” she told him, her voice softer, promising. “We’ll bring home the Champions League for Lyon.”

-

You’d been dating for three months now, and things were going great. Lucy had met your friends, and they adored her. You told her early on that you wanted to take things slow, and she had been nothing but understanding. She didn’t want to rush things either, but she wasn’t afraid to show you how much she liked you. Everything felt so natural with her, as if it was meant to be.

There was a dinner planned with your parents this Sunday, tomorrow she had a match, but today was one of her rest days after a Champions League game.

After a relaxed afternoon strolling around the city, shopping for a birthday gift for a friend, Lucy insisted on stopping by the supermarket. She wanted to cook at home, saying she wanted a romantic night with you. You agreed, and soon, you were back at your apartment, where you spent more time kissing than actually cooking.

It had been happening more and more recently—lingering touches, playful kisses that turned into longer, deeper ones. Every time, though, it stopped before it could go too far. Sometimes it felt natural, like you both were happy to just be together, but other times it felt more abrupt, leaving your heart racing. You wanted her, of course—how could you not?—but there was still that one thing you hadn’t told her yet, and it held you back.

Lucy had noticed. She’d asked a few times, worried that you might’ve had bad experiences in the past, but you assured her that wasn’t the case. You just wanted to take your time, and she had been so patient with you, always respecting your boundaries. Sometimes recently, it was even Lucy who would pull back, smiling at you sweetly, her eyes filled with desire but also understanding.

You loved her. You wanted to share everything with her, every part of yourself.

Twice now, she had stayed the night at your place. She had offered to sleep in separate beds, but you had waved that away, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep cuddled up next to her.

And now, after watching her play last night and lying awake, tossing and turning, you had decided that you were ready to tell her what had been holding you back.

You wanted, ached, to explore this part of your relationship, and tonight, with the romantic dinner she planned, felt like the perfect moment.

Now you were here, a lovely dinner behind your belt.. fidgeting with your wine glass, noticing that strangely enough, Lucy seemed a bit nervous too.

You both spoke up at the same time.

“Y/N—” “Luce—”

Breathy laughter filled the air, easing some of the tension you both seemed to be holding. “You go,” you said in unison again, which only made you laugh harder.

You gently took her hands in yours. “No, you go, baby.”

“Baby..,” Lucy repeated slowly, as if she was rolling the word around in her mouth, trying to make up if she liked the taste of it, her eyes searching your face.

Your heart skipped a beat. Shit. Did she not like that? You had been using the term more and more recently, thinking you were both building toward something more, maybe even thinking of her as your girlfriend already. Panic crept in until Lucy's voice broke through your spiraling thoughts.

“I thought,” she began, tightening her grip on your hands, “that it was about time… that I asked you to be my girlfriend.” Her words tumbled out quickly, like she was nervous. “I know you want to take things really slow,” she added, rambling a little, “but I just really, really, really like you. More than that even.” She let out a breathy laugh, glancing away for a second, before her gaze settled back on yours. “But I won’t scare you with that just yet. What I’m trying to say is... I want to call you my girlfriend. So, um… if you—”

“Oui!” you cut her off, the word bursting from you with so much enthusiasm that it took you both by surprise. You felt your face flush with heat as you quickly added, “Uh, yes, Lucy, I love you too—” You stopped mid-sentence, blushing furiously. “I-I mean, I’d love to be your girlfriend,” you corrected, your voice softer but no less sincere.

Lucy’s smile stretched from ear to ear as she stood up from her seat, and you rose to meet her. The moment felt so perfect, so right.

She kissed you, a kiss filled with warmth and love, and you returned it with all the affection you’d been building up for this woman for months now. God, you were in love.

After a few long moments, you pulled back, your heart pounding. You knew you still had to tell her the other thing. But Lucy was looking at you with such softness in her eyes, her face lit with joy. You couldn’t help but brush your thumbs along her cheeks, feeling the heat of her skin under your touch.

“Love me huh?” Lucy teased at your little slip of the tongue earlier, her voice low and playful.

You chuckled, your nerves easing slightly. “Yes, I love you, Luce, je t'aime�� you admitted, voicing the words felt like lifting a weight off your chest.

“Hmmm…” Lucy hummed, her grin widening as she buried her face in the crook of your neck. “That makes me really happy. I love you too,” she whispered, her breath warm against your skin.

Before you knew it, Lucy’s hands had moved to cup your ass, lifting you up effortlessly. You squealed in surprise, even though she had done this before—it caught you off guard. Maybe because you still had to tell that other thing. But you couldn’t help but laugh as she carried you over to the couch, sitting down with you perched on her lap.

Both of you dissolved into giggles as you peppered each other’s faces with kisses, one after another. “I am so in love with you,” you murmured between kisses, your forehead resting gently against hers as you gazed into her eyes.

Lucy laughed, her nose brushing against yours. “It’s funny that we both wanted to tell each other that tonight,” she said, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Your cheeks flushed again, this time not just from the affection but from what you knew you had to say next. “I… I also…” you stammered, trying to find the right words. Lucy tilted her head, a curious smile tugging at her lips as she waited patiently.

“I also wanted.. uh no.. needed.. to tell you something else,” you finally managed, your voice a little shaky.

“Oh?” Lucy’s eyebrows lifted slightly, her expression soft. “Is it… a good thing?”

You bit your lip, unsure. “I’d…uh.. I’d say it’s more of a neutral thing?” you said, trying to ease into it.

Lucy smiled, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze as she leaned back against the couch. “Okay. Whatever it is, you can tell me. You know that, right?”

You nodded, taking a deep breath. “Yes, I know. It’s just… hard for me to say, I guess.” You could feel your nerves bubbling up again. “I’m sorry for keeping it from you, but I didn’t know how to bring it up.”

Lucy’s gaze was steady, encouraging. “Hey, there’s nothing to apologize for,” she said softly. “Take your time.”

“I… I have never…” You struggled to find the right words, but they just wouldn’t come. “I mean, I know how everything works, of course, but I’ve just… never actually… done it.” The words tumbled out awkwardly, and you quickly looked down, embarrassed.

Lucy was quiet for a long moment, so long that you finally forced yourself to glance up at her. To your surprise, her expression hadn’t changed—she was still looking at you with warmth and understanding.

“Hey,” she whispered, her thumb brushing over your lower lip, gently freeing it from between your teeth where you’d been nervously biting it. “Thank you for telling me.”

You groaned, your forehead dropping against her collarbone. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and relief.

Lucy chuckled softly, her hand smoothing over your back. “Sorry for what? Like you said, it’s a neutral thing. There’s nothing to be sorry about.” She tilted your chin up so you could meet her eyes again. “I’m just happy you told me. Now I understand why we always stopped when we did.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and smiled shyly. Lucy’s hands found their way to your cheeks again, cupping your face with such tenderness that you couldn’t help but feel safe.

The two of you stared at each other, the weight of the moment sinking in before both of you burst into soft, breathy giggles, the tension dissolving.

You both had ended up lying down on the couch, nestled against each other in a comfortable silence. Lucy’s arm was around your waist, your head resting on her chest as you listened to the steady rhythm of her breathing. The warmth of her body and the way her fingers absentmindedly traced small circles on your arm made you feel calm, safe.

It must have been at least half an hour before you finally worked up the courage to speak.

“So… how do you, uh, want to do things?” you asked, your voice soft, almost hesitant.

Lucy tilted her head slightly, meeting your gaze with a curious look. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” she responded, her voice gentle, as if she were afraid of pressuring you. “I mean… I want to do whatever you want, however you want, and when you want it.”

Her words made you smile, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. She was always so thoughtful, so patient. But the truth was, you had been thinking about this for a while now. You swallowed hard, trying to push past the embarrassment rising in your chest. “I feel like I’m ready,” you began, but the words felt heavy in your throat.

Lucy’s expression softened even more, her hand rubbing soothingly along your back, waiting for you to continue.

“That’s… I…” Your face flushed bright red as you tried to find the right words. You couldn’t tell her just how ready you were without blushing even harder.

The truth was, ever since you and Lucy had started dating, you had never felt this kind of desire before. In the past few weeks, your own body had been betraying you, and the thought of Lucy, had been invading your mind, especially when you were alone. You had never been so… wanting. It was like something in you had awakened. It wasn’t just the emotional connection—you physically craved her.

“Uhm… it’s been hard,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, “not going further than kissing with you.” Your cheeks burned even more as you confessed, “But I felt like I needed to tell you this first before we went further… it was hard for me to confess.. I feel a bit.. uhm.. behind?”

Lucy’s thumb gently stroked your cheek, silently urging you to continue, her face calm and open.

“I’ve been thinking about… you,” you admitted, your voice faltering slightly. The vulnerability of the statement hung between you, the air thick with it. “A lot.”

Lucy’s lips curved into a small, tender smile as she listened. She didn’t laugh or tease you like you might’ve feared. Instead, she looked at you with a warmth that made your heart flutter in your chest.

“I’ve been thinking about you too,” she said quietly, her voice sincere. “But I didn’t want to push you, and I didn’t want to rush into anything until you felt ready. I wanted to respect your boundaries and I am really happy you told me this before we went further, and you’re not behind at all by the way, everyone does things at their own pace.”

You nodded, appreciating her patience but feeling the need for honesty. “But really I… I’ve been more than ready,” you repeated, the words rushing out now that you had started. “It’s been hard for me to hold back. I didn’t want you to think that I didn’t want to… you know, go further with you. I’ve just never… done it before.” You didn’t know why you were repeating yourself, maybe to bring over to Lucy how much you meant it.

Lucy nodded, her hand moving to intertwine with yours. “I get it,” she said softly. “I’m really glad you told me. I want you to feel comfortable with whatever we do, and I don’t want you to feel like there’s any pressure.” She paused for a moment, searching your face. “But when you’re ready, whenever that is, I’m here. We’ll take it slow, together.”

You smiled, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. “Thank you,” you whispered, resting your forehead against hers.

Lucy sighed contentedly as she lay beneath you on the couch, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your arm. After a moment, she cleared her throat, breaking the comfortable silence.

“So, um… your parents,” she started, her voice tentative. “Sunday dinner, huh? What’s that going to be like?”

You blinked, a little caught off guard by the shift in conversation. “What about it?” you asked, propping yourself up slightly to look at her.

Lucy gave a small, nervous laugh. “I don’t know, like… have you told them anything about me? Do they know we’re dating, or is this going to be a complete surprise?” She bit her lip, clearly a little anxious. “I just want to make sure I don’t mess this up.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly. “Why are you thinking about that right now?” you asked, your tone playful as you began trailing soft kisses along her neck, nuzzling into the warmth of her skin.

Lucy let out a breathy laugh, though her body tensed slightly under your touch. “I—uh… I just don’t want to screw it up. Are you sure you really want to do this right now?” she asked, her voice hesitant.

She turned her head to look at you, concern flickering in her eyes. “I don’t want to rush you, y/n.”

You giggled against her neck, pressing a kiss just below her ear. “Three months isn’t enough of a wait for you?” you teased, a smile tugging at your lips.

Lucy chuckled, her body relaxing slightly as she looked up at you, her nerves fading a little. “Okay… so the dams have really broken now, haven’t they?” She raised her eyebrows, amused.

“Well, now that I’ve told you, and you didn’t get scared away... I have to admit, I’m kind of excited. I mean…” you grinned sheepishly. “I find you really attractive.”

She smiled as you moved your hand under her shirt, your fingertips brushing against her warm skin, you whispered, “I’m in love with you, Luce. I want to share that part of myself with you, too. And you know…” You paused, leaning down to kiss her collarbone. “Je sais à quel point tu es bon au football, alors je ne peux qu’imaginer que tes talents athlétiques s’étendent au-delà de ce jeu…’’ You whispered.  

Lucy giggled, swatting at you playfully. “Oh, you’re cheeky,” she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. But she glanced up at the ceiling with a grin and added, “Are you sure you’ve got no experience at all? It feels like I’m more out of it than you are right now.”

You sat up a little, shifting so that you were straddling her hips, your hands resting lightly on her stomach. You raised an eyebrow, curious. “Oh?” you asked, smirking slightly. “Has it been long for you?”

Lucy bit her lip, her gaze dropping for a moment before she admitted, “Maybe… half a year? I don’t know.”

“Versus 22 years,” you teased, rolling your eyes giggling. “I think I win.”

Lucy grinned, sitting up to face you, her hands resting on your waist. “Mmm, no. I think I win.” She leaned in closer, her eyes sparkling with affection. “I’ve got the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen in my life sitting on my lap right now.”

You felt your cheeks grow warm, your heart swelled in your chest. But instead of letting yourself get lost in the emotion, you smirked, leaning in close until your lips hovered just inches from hers. “Mmm, really?” you teased softly. “Tell me more…”

Lucy’s expression turned serious, though her eyes were still playful. “I mean it, y/n. Now that I know how much this means to you, I want it to be special… really special. I always wanted that for us, but now it feels even more important.”

You rolled your eyes in playful disbelief, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Mon chéri,” you whispered, brushing a kiss over her cheek, “we just had the most romantic dinner, confessed our love—I'd say that’s pretty perfect already, wouldn’t you? Besides, it’s already special because it’s with you, my love, you are the only person I could think of doing this with.”

Lucy’s smile deepened, and she reached up to brush her thumb along your cheek. “Perfect, sure,” she mused. “But… candles, flowers, fresh sheets…” She bit her lip, ‘’in my head I was going all out for you, I am not even wearing my good underwear, amour.’’

You chuckled, thinking of your preparations for today. ‘’I am.’’

You watched her pupils dilate, her eyes widening in surprise, and she swallowed hard, clearly taken aback. “Oh,” she said in a breathy tone, as if she had just forgotten how to speak.

You chuckled, watching her shift, almost flustered. “Are you getting shy, Luce?”

“No! It’s just that… I don’t know,” she stammered, running a hand through her hair, clearly struggling to keep her composure. “I really want to keep things slow, to be respectful and everything, but when you say things like that…” She scratched her neck, her voice barely a whisper, “it’s… hard to...”

“Hard to what?” you asked, delighted to see her cheeks flush, a sight you didn’t often get to see from her.

Lucy groaned, leaning back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. “It’s hard for me not to think about… taking things a little faster than planned.” Her voice came out all at once, as if she’d been holding it back.

You leaned in, your lips just grazing hers. “Well, what’s wrong with those thoughts, then?” you asked, teasingly brushing your fingers along her neck.

She exhaled softly, biting her lip as she hesitated. “Let’s… wait until after I’ve met your parents,” she finally managed, pulling back slightly, though it was clear that it took effort.

Your smile faltered, confusion and a hint of disappointment washing over you. “Oh… I thought…” You shifted off her, sitting up and moving to your own spot on the couch, feeling uncertain.

Lucy’s hand instinctively reached for yours, her expression tinged with a hint of panic. “No, no—y/n, it’s not that I don’t want to! I do, more than you know.” She looked down, as if gathering her thoughts. “I just thought, well, when you mentioned meeting your parents on Sunday, I figured it was important to you to wait until after that step.” She paused, glancing up at you with earnest eyes. “I actually had… this plan in my head for next week. Thursday, to be exact.”

You blinked, intrigued and slightly amused by her meticulousness. “You have… a plan?”

“Yeah,” she said, scratching her neck in that adorable way that always made you smile. “I even talked to your housemate to make sure she’d be out for the night. I thought, you know, after we’re official and all…” She laughed softly, glancing down shyly. “I was going to surprise you with candles, flowers, everything. It’d be in your own bed, so you’d be comfortable.” She pressed a hand to her chest, her cheeks flushed. “I didn’t want to pressure you, of course, but I wanted it to be right for you—like, um… create a perfect moment for us.”

Your heart melted as you listened, and you could hardly contain the adoration shining in your eyes. Here was this amazing, thoughtful woman who loved you so deeply, wanting everything to be perfect.

“Luce, you’re… adorable,” you murmured, leaning in to kiss her, your heart overflowing with love and gratitude for such an incredible girlfriend.

You could feel the heat and intensity building between you, like two magnets drawn together. Your mouths met in a deep, fervent kiss, a silent conversation of everything you hadn’t said and all the things you were both holding back. It was a kiss full of promises, anticipation crackling in the air around you.

As the kiss deepened, Lucy’s hand slipped to your waist, and you let yourself sink into her warmth, into her presence.

After a moment, you pulled back just slightly, a small smirk crossing your face. “Are we sure we want to wait until next week?” you whispered, your voice low. “Today is a Thursday too.”

She took a deep breath, nervous laughter lighting up the room. “Well, I don’t know if I want that, but I think it would be best, so yes, I think I want that.”

“Thursday can’t come soon enough,” you groaned.

You both laughed, the intensity giving way to a moment of lightheartedness as you laid together, feeling secure, knowing that when the time was right, it would be everything you both had been waiting for.

After a while Lucy scooped you up into her arms effortlessly, grinning as you let out a surprised laugh. She headed toward the bedroom, ignoring your glance back at the kitchen.

“We really should clean up first,” you protested lightly, glancing over her shoulder at the table still set with empty plates and a bottle of wine.

Lucy shook her head, a smirk playing on her lips. “Nope,” she said, nudging the bedroom door open with her hip. “Tonight we can cuddle, tomorrow we’ll worry about that again.”

Once in the bedroom, Lucy set you down at the edge of the bed.

You felt your cheeks warm as you began to undress, carefully slipping out of your top, suddenly hyperaware of her eyes on you. You hesitated, noticing she’d turned her head away slightly, as if trying to give you privacy, even now.

“No, you can look,” you murmured softly, smiling as her gaze shifted back to you, her eyes meeting yours with such warmth that your heart fluttered. “You’re my girlfriend,” you added, the last word feeling new and sweet on your lips.

Lucy’s gaze traveled over you slowly, and you felt a blush rising to your cheeks as you slipped out of your top and bra, letting them fall softly to the floor. For the first time, her eyes settled on the bare skin of your chest, and you could see her breath catch for a moment, her lips parting as she took you in.

You felt a mix of warmth and shyness under her gaze, but her expression was so open, so purely admiring, that you felt at ease. When her gaze lifted to yours, her eyes held a soft awe that made your heart skip. “You’re beautiful,” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.

You smiled, feeling both vulnerable and cherished in that moment, before turning to her closet and reaching for one of her oversized shirts to slip on. As you lifted it over your head, Lucy let out a little chuckle, recovering herself, and as she undressed down to her boxers and sports bra, her cheeks were pink.

Once undressed, you both climbed into bed, buried under the comforter as you found each other in the dim light, legs tangling together. She pulled you close, and her mouth met yours again, warm and gentle.

The kiss deepened, lips moving slowly, savoring each touch, each taste. Lucy’s hand rested on the small of your back, sliding upward with a feather-light touch that sent soft tingles across your skin. You felt a pleasant, fluttering warmth in your stomach as her fingers brushed over you.

Your own hands explored her too, grazing the line of her jaw, the smooth skin of her shoulder, and then down to her waist, lingering as you took in every detail. With every kiss, your heart raced faster, your body responding to her closeness, feeling both electric and calm at once.

But just as things were growing more intense, you felt a faint pulse of nerves, next Thursday was maybe not so bad. “Wait,” you whispered, smiling softly, though your cheeks were warm. “We haven’t brushed our teeth yet.”

Lucy paused, her eyes immediately searching yours, understanding lighting up in her gaze. She brushed a gentle hand over your cheek, offering a reassuring smile. “Totally forgot,” she said softly. Her hand found yours as she guided you to the bathroom, fingers intertwined as you both stood side by side at the sink.

You shared smiles as you brushed your teeth together, Lucy’s shoulder bumping lightly against yours, and even things like this simple routine felt special in her presence.

As you finished, you turned to find her already smiling, her hand reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Back in bed, Lucy wrapped her arm around you as you nestled close, her hand resting comfortably over your hip. You let yourself settle, your head on her chest, listening to the steady beat of her heart, your own hand resting on her stomach, feeling the warmth of her skin and the gentle rise and fall of her breathing.

In the quiet, with Lucy’s arm wrapped around you and her hand softly resting on you, sleep came easily, and the last thing you heard before drifting off was the sound of her breathing, steady and warm, and the quiet, whispered words she murmured just before you both faded into dreams; “Goodnight, my love.”

-

I hope you guys like this, I felt a bit rusty writing again, but I think in the future I might be writing more woso fics.

Part 2 of this will follow soon!

-J.

[kquil]

DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER FOUR

04 : BEGINNINGS

CHPT. SUM. : beginning new things is always fun. getting to know your sons, them finally being able to experience having a loving mother, sirius going to school, and you planning for everything that was yet to come so that everyone gets to the happy ending they deserve. 

LENGTH : 11.8k

TAGS : domestic fluff ; orion being a bad father ; original walburga being a nuisance ; reader being an amazing mother and an amazing cook ; regulus has food preferences ; brotherhood between sirius and regulus ; marauders spotted in the wild ; sirius and regulus being precious babies ; reader disrespecting walburga ; mentions of infertility ; mentions of divorce ; lots of future planning

← PREV. 03 : SHOPPING (2/2) | SERIES M.LIST

9th August 1971 

It, surprisingly, took very little to get past Orion on the topic of changing Sirius and Regulus’ private tutors. However, when you truly looked at his workaholic tendencies, your initial surprise should have been the more startling reaction — of course, he wouldn’t care, he’s too fixated on the happenings with his position on the Wizengamot to be aware of much else, discounting the protective wards he put up around the property. Nevertheless, it was good news for you and your boys. Finally, they would be getting more suitable tutors, who catered to their learning needs in a more digestible way. You had only recently sent out the notice, though, so you don’t expect many replies to be coming in soon. Your only wish was to have fallen into this universe sooner, that way you would have had more time with Sirius before he left to attend Hogwarts as a first year. 

Walburga didn’t have a formal occupation other than monitor her boys so having Sirius leave for his first year would mean less work for her and, subsequently, you. However, it’s not as if she needed the money; she’s the matriarch of an incredibly privileged family, meaning that her financial worries are close to non-existent. Both, the affluent family fortune and her lack of professional ambitions have you stumped, it’s something you’re not used to at all. Perhaps that’s why she’s so obsessed with control and the activity of her two sons; it’s not healthy and you don’t even want to attempt to understand what she was thinking—

“Of course you won’t!” Walburga snarls from the depths of your consciousness, her tone dripping with malice and a hint of something sinister. “I don’t expect someone who failed at becoming a mother to understand the right and true tribulations of bringing up children,” 

“…how did you know that?” you ask aloud, no longer satisfied with simply trying to call for the bitch - Walburga’s - attention in your head. She didn’t seem to want to reply, which only made your blood boil; her prolonged silence, the trigger to releasing your rapidly escalating rage.  How dare she?! How dare she strike you where it hurts the most, only to turn completely unresponsive when you demand answers, “Answer me!”  Thick tensions fill the room when she does not answer, the silence suffocating and poisonous. Taking a slow, deep breath, you engage control over your anxious heart and trembling hands once more. 

Work. You need work. Something to focus on so that you don’t dwell on memories that will only bring you heartache. It worked before so it’ll work for you now. It had worked so well, in fact, that you were able to build an empire out of it, perhaps you could replicate the same results this time. 

“Screw you then, ugly pig, I have more important matters to attend to anyway,” pulling out a drawer, you scatter your notes across the desk and move with fretful fever but, also, enthusiasm above them. No matter the change of environment, you can always trust in your habits to push you forward. Walburga mainly worked on keeping the boys in line as the official matriarch of the Black household but that’s all her world revolved around, she had no hobbies or any close friends other than her relatives whom she communicated with, somewhat, regularly. With a guilty ache in your chest, you kept a gradually growing stack of letters in the bottom-most drawer of the hard oak desk, not yet knowing how to respond to people you barely knew. However, you suppose their relations to a character like Walburaga make it slightly easier to ignore their communications. The affiliation doesn’t warrant your precious time. If you could send a passive-aggressive email, you might be more willing, but the extended process of having to write out the letters and then send them via owl wasn’t worthwhile. 

The priority on your list of important affairs is ensuring your boys’ happy and safe future. Sirius will not have to choose between Regulus and his friends, he will not suffer being blasted off the family tree, he will not have to be ashamed of his family, he will not have to witness his close friend’s death through another’s betrayal, and he will not be forced to go to Azkaban. Similarly, Regulus will not have to suffer Sirius abandoning him, he will not have to face his prejudicial parents alone, he will not be forced into getting the dark mark, he will not have to make the sacrifice he had to make at such a young age, he will not die a miserable and lonely death, and he will not be forgotten! You will make sure of it. 

Coming into the world as a Harry Potter and Marauders fan, you’re well-equipped with all the knowledge required to make the right decisions. The only problem is that the Marauders era has been a largely vague timeline that most of the fandom filled in for themselves so you’ll have to tread carefully. This will require meticulous planning, a steady rise to power and a conglomeration of useful allies to help set your plans into motion. Modern-day knowledge and business etiquette will serve you well here. You’ve survived toxic work environments, won in the race to riches, and dealt with all manner of manipulative, sexist swine you could ever think to encounter. If you play your cards right, you’re sure to win. 

“As if a muggle like you could conquer the wizarding world!” Walburga finally makes her appearance once again. And, of course, it’s for the sake of belittling you whilst making your head throb painfully from her distasteful screeches. 

“Shut up,” you hiss unapologetically, resisting the urge to smirk, “Unlike you, I know the future—” breathing the words aloud brings a blaring, singular thought to the front of your mind. The vision you witnessed at the Owl Emporium replays in your head once more…

How in the world did Walburga know about the biting habit of Sirius’ future owl?… 

Several moments pass achingly slow as you anticipate the aggravating screeching of Walburga to return. When no such wailing occurs or interrupts your train of thought, your mind immediately begins to spiral. 

How could Walburga remember being at the Emporium, shopping for Sirius’ first year at Hogwarts when she had yet to go shopping with him in the first place? They couldn’t have already gone, right? Orion would have said something if they were being inefficient enough to go a second time. That or the boys would have definitely made some comment… 

This felt like an urgent matter that needed your immediate attention but you had to prioritise other things for now. It’s not like the original Walburga was going to give you the answers you needed so it wasn’t any use pressing on the matter. It’s best to turn your focus and efforts elsewhere. Peering back at your scattered notes, you raise your newly acquired wand and utter the crafting spell you had learned recently. 

“Libeligare,” As you wave your wand over the desk, activity springs forth. In a flurry of animated pages and whistling currents in the air, your disordered notes compile themselves appropriately before binding themselves into a fresh notebook. It doesn’t have a hard cover and you debate on transfiguring a decorative letter set piece into one but think against it. This will do nicely for the moment. 

Finally, all your detailed plans are in one place. 

10th August 1971 

With nothing better to do and desperate for a decent meal, you address the home-cooked meals situation. Every dish served at the Black household was so unappetising and bland, that you couldn’t believe that the family was one of the most influential and richest families to exist in the wizarding world. You’re beginning to believe that the Blacks were the type of family to indulge in unpalatable spreads with the reasoning that they refuse to eat the same meals as those lesser than them. How childish. Even in your city-centre penthouse, you ordered take-out frequently and ate ordinary home-cooked meals that were comforting and warm. The memories make you compare all the meals you’ve had in Grimmauld Place and blanch abhorrently. This wouldn’t do, especially for your growing boys. They need to be well-fed so that they grow up healthy and strong. 

“Mistress!” Kreacher shrieks behind you, making you jump and spin around all at once. The hunched-over house elf dashes through the kitchen space clumsily and with much vigour, he pulls painfully at his drooping ears as his eyes bulge out from seeing you, his mistress, the matriarch, in the kitchen cooking! Without magic! 

“Don’t be so dramatic, Kreacher,” you chuckle softly and turn back to your food prep, “I’m just trying to cook an easy breakfast for my boys,” if you could truly have it your way then you would cook enough only for you and your two darling sons to eat. Orion would have to sort his own plate. But you’re not divorced yet so you suppose this is a compromise you’ll have to make. 

“I-It is not mistress’ job, let Kreacher do it—!” the house elf, reaches forward to take the kitchen utensils from you but you’re too swift. 

“I want to cook the food Kreacher,” you argue and continue pottering about the kitchen as if it was just another Tuesday morning, all while Kreacher follows you around helplessly. He’s clearly stuck between letting you have your way or forcing you to let him cook instead. Both felt wrong in different ways considering his position as the house elf, and he was brought to a standstill. The poor guy looked ready to throw himself off a cliff from the indecision and panic.  

Having sympathy for the elf, you call to him over your shoulder, “Kreacher can you please pass me the eggs?” this feels like a good even ground to dance on. Soon enough you’ll be teaching Kreacher how to finally relax. Kreacher appeared happy to finally be doing something but as soon as he hesitantly handed over the eggs, he was back to being anxious all over again. Even though you are the matriarch of the household, you supposed you’ll have to share the kitchen with a very distressed house elf for the foreseeable future. 

For the rest of the morning, you’ve asked Kreacher to help you with crisping up the beacon, cleaning the mushrooms, opening up the can of beans, toasting the bread and laying out the table. No more tasteless, boring porridge for breakfast with no toppings, today you’re serving a Full English. Admiring the spread, you thank Kreacher for his assistance before undoing your apron and putting the finishing touches to the dining table just as the rest of the family make it down for breakfast. 

“What is all this?” Orion asks in slight surprise when catching sight of breakfast for the day, “Is today very important?”

“No,” nonchalance keeps your tone controlled just as your precious babies walk through the door and hop into their designated seats at the table, one more enthusiastic than the other, “I’m just tired of plain old porridge every day,”

“Porridge is delicious,” Orion defends.

“Every day?” from the look in his eyes, you don’t know whether or not you’ve bested him so turn a serene smile his way instead, “I can always ask Kreacher to make you porridge if you really want,” 

Orion takes a moment to observe the full, vibrant plate of bacon, toast, grilled tomatoes, sautéed mushrooms, sausages, black pudding, scrambled eggs and beans. If he takes any longer to play indecisive, the food will get cold and your precious babies are waiting on his dainty, princess-ass to make a decision— can you hurry the fuck up?! you want to scream at him. Every meal is started after his first bite (the pretentious, narcissistic douche) so he needs to make up his mind quickly or else you’ll lose yours waiting around! 

“…it’ll be a waste, this will do,” he finally picks up his knife and fork to begin eating and you have to reign yourself in before you roll your eyes too noticeably at his conceited behaviour. Your babies behave better than him. The prick! 

Turning to your boys, you observe Sirius and Regulus digging into their own meals before finally taking a bite out of yours. It felt good to see their eyes light up like that, especially Sirius’ — it makes you want to giggle at how obviously he had been wanting to devour his beans and toast the instant he laid eyes on them. 

Breakfast continues pleasantly as everyone enjoys their meal until you begin to notice some peculiar movement in the corner of your eye. You try to be as subtle as you can, considering the uncommon calm that has fallen over the dining table; it isn’t usually this comfortable around the table so you wanted to preserve the ambience as much as possible. The source of your curious gaze was Sirius and Regulus. 

Covertly, Regulus sneaks spoonfuls of his scrambled eggs onto Sirius’ plate, who proceeds to eat up his younger brother’s share as quickly as possible. Regulus was doing this willingly despite this morning’s breakfast being the first appetising meal he’s had yet. It won’t be the last either. However, from the way Sirius is scarfing down the food whilst trying to remain as silent as possible, it wouldn’t be surprising if Sirius eventually suffers from a stomachache later on. You wonder what could be the matter with the scrambled eggs. Was the seasoning off? Kreacher helped taste test every element of the meal and gave his stellar praise for your unrealised culinary skills so you’re more than a bit confused at the scene. After swallowing all remnants of food in your mouth, you gently raise a question. 

“Regulus?” your youngest freezes up immediately, making your brows furrow but still, you continue in a soft voice, “What’s wrong?” Deep in your chest, you feel your heart clench in worry at the deer-in-headlights expression plastered across Regulus’ cherubic face. 

You are met with only silence, “do you not like your eggs, darling?” you try meeting your youngest’s eyes but he’s terrified to even face your direction. Instead, he’s firmly steered his gaze down to his lap and keeps it there, frozen in place. 

There’s a slam of the table and everyone stiffens. At the head, Orion stares disapprovingly at Regulus, who begins to tremble like a leaf, “How rude!” the patriarch spits with such force and bite that his saliva lands halfway down the lengthy dining table. He’s so scandalised by his son’s behaviour that the cold from his freezing gaze drops the temperature in the room lower than it already is. “How many times have we talked about this Regulus? Finish your plate at once or else it’ll be the last meal you eat today!”

“He’s not being rude!” you counter, flying out of your seat and making your way to Regulus, “And he shouldn’t be forced to eat something he doesn’t like nor punished harshly for disliking something,” Crouching down, you position yourself to block Orion from Regulus’ line of sight despite his frightened doe-eyes remaining transfixed on his lap. His small hands are turned into small, knuckle-white fists, gripping fiercely at the fabric of his trousers. A paralysed statue of fear incarnate, your little boy doesn’t deserve this! If you could ‘Avada Kedavra’ Orion’s pathetic, prissy ass, you would in a heartbeat. 

From your peripheral, you notice how Sirius had placed a comforting hand over one of Regulus’ closed fists and the sight made your heart bloom with pride and joy — seeing how well they take care of each other was so heartwarming. “Tell me what’s wrong, Reg…I promise I won’t get mad,” you make sure to keep your voice in a low whisper so that only your son can hear but also loud enough that Orion’s distant grumbling is disguised. 

“Do you not like eggs?” your prompting remains gentle and patient, hoping for a fraction of understanding. That’s all you really want. 

Sensing no antagonistic feeling in your tone, Regulus finally wills himself to speak, although barely audible from insecurity, “I….I don’t like scrambled eggs…”

“No? What about them don’t you like?”

"They feel weird in my mouth, I don’t like chewing them,” he explains shyly, his confession dripping with shame. His grey eyes look into your own remorsefully and, before he can utter an apology, he is stopped by the shaking of your head.

Smiling warmly, you pat his small hand and voice your reassurance, “That’s a reasonable preference to have. Do you not like the texture?” Regulus nods in confirmation as his small, tense shoulders slowly ease up, “Do you not like eggs at all or do you like them cooked in a particular way?” 

Regulus’ eyes widen with surprise. Never before had his mother been so attentive to his preferences like this. On the contrary, His mother was always the first to make him feel embarrassed for his picky tendencies when it came to food, especially over dishes that make him lose his appetite entirely, oysters and shellfish being the main culprit. He really didn’t like them at all. Many times, they were the appetiser to multiple-course meals hosted by pureblood, elitist wizarding families so Walburga was determined to season her son’s palettes early on in life. It was good etiquette to eat such foods and to know how to eat them properly. If he didn’t display appropriate dinner etiquette at the table then he is lesser, he is unworthy of the Black family name and blood running through his veins, he is unbecoming of his heritage, he is a disgrace— 

“I can cook eggs in many other ways,” you suggest thoughtfully, voice remaining soft and comforting, “I can fry them for you? Or I can boil them? Do you like your yolk runny or firm?” 

Regulus, spurred on by your softly placed questions feels the corners of his lips tug upwards, “fried eggs, please…”

His innocuous answer makes you beam, “with a runny or firm yolk, darling?”

“Runny, please,” Regulus finds your bright expression infectious and begins to smile a little wider too. Over the slope of his little brother’s small shoulders, Sirius is grinning from ear to ear; finally, Regulus isn’t going to be forced to eat something he doesn’t enjoy. The elation makes Sirius’ chest swell as his heart pinches slightly at the memory of his little brother retching up the contents of his stomach in the bathroom. Those disastrous, past meals started badly and they ended badly too. Peering at you with smiling eyes, Sirius knows that he won’t need to worry about that any more. 

“Of course, right away," you’re eager to leave and fix up Regulus’ plate but you also worry about leaving him with Orion at the dinner table; your husband wasn’t too pleased with Regulus having preferences — the pretentious prick could choke on his food and die for all you cared, “how about we go to the kitchen together?” you offer smoothly as you begin to stand, “that way, you can watch me cook and make sure I do them just the way you like it,” smiling brightly, Regulus nods and easily offers his hand for you to hold, “Siri, would you like to come?” if one brother was coming with you so was the other.  

“Yes please!” Sirius happily walks to the kitchen, hand-in-hand with Regulus, whose other hand is fully wrapped up in your own. 

From the head of the table, Orion stares with his mouth agape at what he had just been a witness to. What was happening to his wife?! 

11th August 1971 

Sirius and Regulus stand by the fireplace, waving off their newly appointed private tutor as they floo away before eagerly making their way to your home office. Usually, their session catch-ups would make the two freeze up and drag their feet along the plush carpets of their family’s proud home but not now. Ever since your irregular activities leading up to your fainting spell and subsequent switch in demeanour, they’ve felt safer and happier at home. But only around you, their father still frightened them. The patriarch’s grey eyes swirled with a mounting turbulence that they would greatly prefer to avoid so they quickly make themselves scarce around him but not around their mother. Not anymore.

“I can’t wait to show Mother my cursive practice,” Regulus has a skip in his step as he walks beside his older brother, who beams at him proudly. 

“Yeah, you’re getting really good at that Reggie,” Sirius praises, a slightly envious tone edging into his words, but it all remained playful, “say, how do you do your swirls so good?”

“Practise!” 

Sirius rolls his eyes at his younger brother’s cheek, “There has to be a secret to it that I don’t know about,” Regulus only giggles at his older brother’s shortcomings. This had been a rare happiness to experience at 12 Grimmauld Place but, gradually, it was becoming common between the two brothers. Suddenly the walls weren’t so drab, the furniture not as boring and the decorations not as hauntingly placed. The atmosphere was much brighter as sunlight always seemed to pour magnanimously in from the windows.

“Sorry Siri,” from Regulus’ free-flowing, tuneful words, he isn’t sorry at all but Sirius can never will up any hatred for his younger brother. They’ve been through it all together and now that their recent joys were also being shared, of course, they would partake in harmless teasing — teasing that was usually frowned upon by their mother but was no longer a worry. They can’t remember the last time their mother frowned — the two greatly prefer this new version of their mother’s expressions much more.

As they approach your office door, the brothers’ footfalls quicken and they barely catch themselves from bursting through the door without knocking. But not before they catch sight of your figure through the crack of the doorway. Curious about your activity, Sirius hushes his younger brother softly and holds him back so that he can lean forward to observe your figure closely. Inspired by his older brother’s nosiness, Regulus leans forward also and the two peer at you through the doorway crack. 

You’re not at your desk but are, instead, seated on the plush, cushioned seats of the emerald sofa placed in front of your desk. Black robes and other familiar attire are piled up beside you on one side while the other gradually assembles the neatly folded aftermath of your sewing…embroidery? Was there even a difference? Nevertheless, you had a needle and thread in hand without your wand or the use of magic in sight!

“Mother’s sewing your name tags herself,” Regulus concludes in a whisper following a muted gasp of surprise. 

Sirius’ eyes widen ever so slightly, “and she’s not using magic…” he doesn’t know how skilled you are at sewing but Sirius doesn’t care, the gesture alone is enough to make his chest swell. Even his face began to warm up from the heat climbing up his neck as it tried reaching his ears. 

“…do you think she’ll sew my name tags too? When I start my first year, I mean…” Regulus asks shyly, the clear insecurity in his timid voice making Sirius slightly defensive. 

“Of course, she will,” he huffs before grinning widely, “and if we tear up our uniform ‘accidentally’ I’m sure she’ll sew those up herself too!” Regulus doesn’t know whether he likes or dislikes his brother’s train of thought but smiles anyway; he’s just happy thinking about his mother paying as much attention and care to his first-year robes too. He can’t wait until he starts attending Hogwarts as well. 

Finally willing themselves to stop eavesdropping and return to their earlier task, Sirius and Regulus straighten their posture before knocking on the heavy wooden door. They don’t have to wait terribly long for an answering call to grant their entrance. 

“Come in,” you set your tools aside and smile when the door reveals your babies stepping into your office, “hello, my darlings,” from your periphery, you spot the time on the clock face and jump into conversation with them, “how was your tutoring session? Did you like your new tutor?” 

“Yeah!” the two answer simultaneously and with the same amount of enthusiasm — it makes you smile with content. Happiness looks good on them; their characters shine brighter and their faces are more child-like. They’re honestly the cutest little boys you’ve ever seen and now they’re your sons to love and protect.  

“That’s wonderful news,” you open your arms for each of them to jump into, “Tell me all about it,” you’re just about to magic away the robes and sewing equipment so that they can sit beside you but not before you spot Sirius inspecting your handiwork, “I’m afraid I’m not the best seamstress,” your confession comes out bashfully, “I should have had Madam Malkins sew the tags on for me—”

“No!—” Sirius interrupts, looking almost offended that you would consider such a thing, “I like your sewing,” you raise a brow and, together with Regulus, inspect your uneven, treasure map trail of stitches before turning to the eldest brother once more. 

“Are you sure, darling?”

“Yeah, only you can do the stitching on my uniform, no one else,” his firm answer makes your embarrassed expression melt into a warm smile.

“Alright then,”

“Thank you, Mother,” he gives you another hug that you happily return. 

“You’re welcome, my dear,”

Looking over your plans, you sigh in restrained frustration. This is going to be a little hard. Yes, you know what to do but it’s all about recruiting the right people, trustworthy people and ones who are right for the role you’re choosing to give them. There’s a lot on your plate too, with your most urgent goal being divorce. You’re convinced that it isn’t going to be easy, considering the controversies that will surround the separation of a prominent wizarding house. The laws surrounding marriage, divorce and custody at this time are also largely unknown to you. Thankfully, you’ve had the privilege of living in a modern ‘muggle’ society where marriage and custody laws were pretty equal and fair. Perhaps there’s a book you can read up on about these things. For now, it’s a safe bet to say that custody will favour Orion as a man in the 1970s — it’s better to over-prepare than be underprepared for any outcome. 

Despite the importance of this particular undertaking, you’ll have to wait until both, Sirius and Regulus, are attending Hogwarts to commence the divorce proceedings. You don’t want your boys to be front-row witnesses nor do you want them to rollercoaster through the typical, rough emotions of children caught up in their parents’ divorce. You’ve been through that already… and you barely made it out on the other side. You’re an adult and they’re just children; if you can protect them from the brunt of it, you will.

A stray thought pushes forward into your consciousness — it would be too optimistic to confidently wager on the boys siding with you. Although under abusive parenting, children are very loyal and you’re benefiting from that loyalty now; even though Walburga was incredibly cruel to her sons, they were still eager to give you a chance as soon as you took over and began treating them kindly. You need to be cautious. The silver lining of it all is that you’ll, at least, have some time to prepare affluently before starting the separation process. That, on its own, however, will require another bout of planning.  

Saving Regulus is another priority on your list. That requires getting rid of the Horcruxes and killing off snake-faced Voldy but you don’t want to be too hands-on with that, especially because you’re not very adept at casting spells yet — there’ll be more experienced and more willing people (Aurors) who would be able to handle this type of mission. All you have to do is pull the right strings and connect with the right people. Eyeing another task on your list, you spot a small connection and smirk to yourself. The nib of your quill dips into a pot of ink and bridges two of your obligations. 

“This could be quite beneficial on both ends,” if you play your cards right…

Making some more careful notes, you gradually begin to piece everything together. But then there’s the issue of Sirius being sent to Azkaban. It’s healthy to have faith in yourself but if someone’s life and wellbeing are in danger, especially if it’s your son’s, you need to have a second, third and fourth plan at the ready. There needs to be a second, third and fourth plan for Regulus as well. Luck and misfortune will always have some influence on the dice you roll, there will never be an exception to that. You’ve learned this enough times in your previous life already, not just in business but everything else too. 

Your quill stops and rests beside your plans as the cogs in your brain turn with more purpose. Sirius still needs to become an animagus and Regulus needs to learn how to be a strong enough swimmer so that he can cast a spell to repel the Inferi. It would be beneficial if they both become well-equipped in duelling. That’ll require your lack of interference (maybe even your support) until Sirius’ fifth year, getting Regulus sorted with swimming lessons and encouraging both on their Defence Against the Dark Arts skills. You make a quick note of both solutions and their reasoning before linking both back to your list of obligations. 

The progress you’re making with these intervention plans is making headway. You just hope that you won’t tip the scales too far so that what little control you currently have slips right through your fingers and you’ll be left floundering. 

20th August 1971

You’ve fully taken over the cooking for all meals and your boys are looking much healthier. It warms your heart every time you see them happily eating your cooking, it was hard work keeping up with the pantry inventory, planning meals and catering to their individual tastes but it was good work that filled your heart with so much content, you hardly felt the fatigue creeping into your bones. 

Regulus isn’t a picky eater, he simply has a preference for some foods over others. He doesn’t like his eggs scrambled, only fried and with a runny yolk; he can’t stomach oysters or shellfish; he doesn’t like pulp in his juice and he’d rather eat a raw onion than have any trace of offal trimmings in his food. 

Sirius can practically eat anything and does so healthily, however, he’s more of a savoury person, leaving Regulus to own the sweet tooth palette by himself. Both adore cheese and you often create mini charcuterie boards for them to snack on. It was so adorable. There was plenty of time on your schedule to assign towards aesthetic food presentation so you’ve mastered the creation of salami roses. You’ve also found that Sirius prefers caramelised onion chutney to go with his mature cheeses whilst Regulus goes for a sweeter fig chutney. 

Currently, you were making them their own mini charcuterie boards. Both were displayed on a circular board with their favourite chutney at the very centre, held in a small ceramic container. And, with decorative prowess, you place their selection of meats, cheeses, crackers and grapes around it. 

“Do they look good Kreacher?” the house elf peers over the countertop surface and gives an affirming nod with a barely noticeable smile. 

“The young masters will be very happy, Mistress,” helpfully he suggests bringing the carefully prepared boards and crust-less finger sandwiches up to the boys’ study room for you but you shake your head. 

“Thank you, Kreacher, but I think I’ll bring up the food this time,” you’ve met their new private tutor several times already but she was always so tense around you; you’re determined to improve her impression through some good old exposure therapy. “Please prepare some tea and bring it up as soon as you’re done,” with your wand and a softly uttered ‘locomotor charcuterie boards and sandwiches’, the items lift into the air just slightly and you begin to move them out of the kitchen. 

“What tea should Kreacher be brewin’ this noon, Mistress?” 

“Oolong would be lovely today. Be sure to brew some Earl grey for Orion too but deliver the Oolong to us first please,” Kreacher’s struggles with your utterance of the polite ‘please’ persists but he continues with his set tasks regardless. The hunched-over house elf has noticed you’ve been prioritising the young masters much more than Orion recently; whenever you want to do something thoughtful, you always think of your sons first. Only last minute do you finally remember your workaholic husband and leave the snack preparations for Kreacher to fulfil and deliver alone. It’s a peculiar shift in attention, the wrinkled elf admits, but seeing his young master Regulus so happy, he doesn’t complain. Kreacher also admits that he’s growing a slight, mutual fondness for the elder Black brother, the two share in their love for Regulus and loyalty to you; now they’ve become friendly acquaintances. The house elf is a little happier and much more willing than ever before to stay loyal to his mistress and young masters’ sides. And Master Orion too, of course.   

Making your way up the stairs, the pretentious cow stuck in your head makes her presence known with inconsequential complaints.

“You’re spoiling those boys far too much!” Walburga shrieks and immediately makes your temples pound, “Sirius and Regulus don’t need this much attention, if you continue this they’re going to grow up soft and weak and unable to carry on the Black family name with the proper dignity and class!” For the sake of avoiding the horrid healing potion Kreacher’s having you consume after every fainting spell, you’ve been training yourself to build up as much resistance to her incessantly obnoxious yapping as much as possible — you’re getting there but you still need some practise. Currently, you are traversing the stairs so you’re taking every step with extra caution.

“Bitches should be seen and not heard,” her confounded gasp doesn’t escape you, “so kindly shut the fuck up,” the sarcastic cheerfulness in your tone makes her gasp once more and, like a coward, makes herself scarce. It seems as though you’ve gotten better at shutting the shrew up but she has yet to acclimatise herself to your shameless disrespect towards her.  Hopefully, she never gets used to your comments; it’s always such a pleasure being able to render her utterly speechless. 

With a pleased smile, you give a soft knock on the boys’ study room before entering. The boys gasp happily as soon as they see the levitating charcuterie boards and the plateful of crust-less sandwiches float closer and closer. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt but I think you all deserve a lunch break,” the boys cheer and happily dig in while you face their tutor with a small smile, “please feel free to have as many sandwiches as you want, we have plenty on offer,” her smile is hesitant and slightly trembles under your hold so she’s quick to look away and fix her focus onto the plate of sandwiches — her own, personal reprieve from having to interact with you.

Peony Knight. She’s an incredibly timid individual who seems to be in her element only when teaching children rather than in the company of said children’s adult parents — she has yet to look you in the eye for an extended period. Her head is an organised plight of feathery, strawberry-blonde hair and her eyes are a pair of opal pendants, so brilliantly blue but incandescent with a kaleidoscope of other jewel colours. Her resume was astounding but her family wasn’t very notable so you could only imagine her surprise when she received your response to her application with a test run of her skills. It was important to you that she comes from an uncommon house and family, you didn’t want to draw too much attention over switching tutors. At her tutoring trial run, she started very shaky but eventually found her confidence when focusing on your two boys rather than your lurking figure from the corner of the study. She was a good runner-up and quickly became the perfect choice when your boys showed favour towards her – the other candidates appeared to have been more affected by your presence in the room and taught the way they thought you wanted them to. 

“She’s nice and patient,” Regulus commented when you went to him after her trial lesson. 

“I like the way she explains things,” Sirius added beside him. 

That was all you needed to hire her as their private tutor. Peony’s timidity of you as an authority figure played in her favour very well.  

Hidden within a thick pile of stacked parchments and a small mountain of miscellaneous scrolls, you found Walburga’s carefully curated curriculum for the boys and handed it over to Peony. Walburga would know better than you what would be useful for her sons to learn. However, you were surprised at the amount of ‘muggle’ topics on her curated list. Admittedly, you were only expecting foundational wizarding lessons maybe on wands or classic pureblood etiquette so your shock was justified. Walburga’s reaction, however, wasn’t.  

“I teach them proper pureblood etiquette myself, you useless girl! And how can I expect my sons to grow up well if they aren’t taught the basics?! They’ll be able to advance as better wizards of the Black family that way. Moreover, muggles stick to and remain in the basics so don’t get smug with me, you filthy mud-blood!” Walburga screeched without restraint and with much offence after your initial revelation, leading to another fainting spell — the disgusting bitch…

In addition to Peony’s private tutoring, you’ve taken to providing your own private lessons to the boys, much to their surprise and slight hesitancy. However, as soon as you began the extended lessons after their usual morning session with Peony one day, they’ve since grown to love it. This didn’t happen every time, however, only on Tuesdays and Fridays. Today was one of those days, a Friday, and you’re so excited to see their reactions to what you have planned. 

Their schedules typically consist of Peony coming over a couple of hours before noon and she teaches them for two or three hours sessions every day except weekends. Mondays were for English language and literature (wizard and muggle), Tuesdays were for Economics, Numeracy and Financial literacy, Wednesdays were for French and Cursive handwriting practice, Thursdays were for muggle sciences (basic biology, physics and chemistry) and Fridays were for history and philosophy (wizard and muggle).

You reserve the fun lessons for your boys with yourself as their teacher. These were composed of lessons that typically challenged their problem-solving, creativity and other fundamental skills to set them up with a good foundation for school and life in general. This included fun puzzle-solving, art (in every medium the boys wanted), some written/scenario problem-solving and role-play scenarios. The first Friday you did this, you had the boys act out from rough, child-friendly scripts you drafted inspired by the Shakespearian play, Macbeth. It seemed like an innocuous lesson but you wanted to gauge their ethical understandings and reasonings. 

Throughout the scenes, you would spontaneously make them freeze frame to ask prompting questions that typically go along the lines of, ‘what would you do in this situation?’, ‘do think that was the right thing to do?’, and ‘why did you think your character did this even though they knew it was wrong?’. Both engaged very well with their own perspectives on the situation. 

At one point they got into a small argument that you needed to break up due to slightly differing standpoints on the scenario. It became slightly more heated than you expected but you were thankful for the opportunity to teach them how to communicate well with each other despite their differences. The lesson ended after that because tensions were still high and they were equally very stubborn about who should apologise first. 

It was going to take more than one lesson to be able to make them understand the rules and the importance of healthy communication, but that was to be expected. This was just the beginning so you’re hoping that if you stay consistent with fostering their ethical reasoning, communication and problem-solving skills, they will be able to remain brotherly despite their opposing Hogwarts houses. In the end, you made them apologise at the same time (to the count of three) and had them hug it out before telling them to say one thing they like about the other person. Evidently, they weren’t used to your new way of doing things and making amends but they (grumpily) did as they were told — and looked absolutely adorable doing it, their pouty faces were too much to bear! 

Approaching the two boys indulging in their individual charcuterie boards and occasionally exchanging bites of their share, you kneel between them and begin pleasant conversations about their current lesson. 

“Are you two having fun so far?” you could practically see Peony stiffen up like cement behind you, just from the telling gasp she lets out in the background. Being so high-strung isn’t going to be good for her health so you hope she gets used to your presence soon enough. You do feel slightly apologetic for her but she needs to know that people can change no matter how drastically. Hopefully, she takes this opportunity to grow some confidence in herself too. Someone so intelligent should walk with broader shoulders and a higher chin. 

“Yeah! Did you know Pythagoras had a cult?” Sirius was practically bouncing in his chair.

“No, he had a school of very intelligent mathematicians and musicians,” Regulus countered after swallowing his bite of cracker, cheese and grapes. 

Sirius rolls his eyes but immediately jumps into another topic, “he discovered the theory of pitch which is surprising coming from a guy who’s scared of beans,” he cracks himself up laughing at the statement.

Again, Regulus interjects in defence of the philosopher, “he wasn’t scared of beans,” the two brothers exchange narrowed stares, “He just believed that beans were the vessels for dead people’s souls and didn’t want to disrespect them by running through a bean field,” a small argument ensues but you don’t act, instead, you watch as a bystander in the hopes that your presence alone can keep them in check. If you ever feel the need to jump in at some point, you will. 

All too well, Sirius and Regulus remain aware of your lingering attendance to their quarrel and make the silent agreement to not escalate things too far. For a moment, they share a knowing look after briefly glancing your way and glaring at each other once again. You watch them huff and inhale a slow, shaky breath. They actively turn their voices down whilst continuing with their argument. It didn’t seem to go anywhere but both concluded it with less heat and more of a calm acknowledgement of each other’s differing sides. 

“Two people can have different opinions and still be friends. They only need to respect that the other person holds a different view and that it doesn’t make them a bad person,” they remembered your sage advice from their first extracurricular lesson with you. It was a massive shift in perspective to their growing minds and the impact it had on both of them was enough to permanently imprint the message into their heads.  

Unprompted, you lean forward and press a kiss to each of their foreheads, Sirius first and then Regulus, “I’m so proud of you two,” you watch as their cherubic cheeks flush an adorable, pink hue. Sirius scratches the back of his head bashfully whilst Regulus fiddles with his pen, both of them equally biting back a small smile from the praise, “you remembered what I taught you,” they look upon your elated smile with shy fulfilment as they nod slightly. “Another person’s opposing opinions might be something we don’t share or appreciate as much as they do but…” they lean forward ever so slightly, wanting to consciously heed your elaboration on the topic, “hearing or witnessing a different view will expand our perspective on the world and help us grow as people. We need to keep an open mind for these sorts of things because they can teach us so much. It might be hard to do sometimes, but I want to ask you two for a small favour,” they nod silently, not questioning or hesitating at your words, fully trusting in your sensible knowledge — their mother was always a brick wall when it came to the opinions of others, they couldn’t penetrate her, especially when it came to opposite views on blood purity so, to see her encouraging such undogmatic behaviour, is peculiar but in a strangely motivating way. They find that they want to do whatever it is that you want to ask them to do no matter what, “I want the two of you to try to understand the other side of any argument or opposite view. The world isn’t as black and white as we think it is. We have to try to be understanding and empathetic people. There may be reasons someone sees the world a certain way and even if we don’t agree or like their opinion, the least we can do is try to understand them. Just try. That’s all… that’s enough,”

It was a lot to take in and it was a lot to ask of such young minds that were still developing. But you weren’t asking for them to be perfect at it. All you want them to do is try.

“Alright, Mother,” Sirius nods with solid determination in his eyes. 

“Whatever you wish, Mother,” Regulus says at the same time, also glowing with resolve. 

Smiling happily, you bring them into a group hug, your arms easily curling around their small shoulders as you press another kiss to their temples, “you don’t have to be perfect, just try,“ you reiterate in a whisper, “I’m so proud of you, my darlings, you make mommy so happy,” you don’t see it but you feel their bright smiles press into your neck from either side as they return your embrace and nuzzle their faces into the junction of your neck and shoulders.

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Their lesson ended a few minutes ago and, like routine, they wave off Peony at the living room fireplace while you set up the study with all the things you planned on having them do for the afternoon. You asked them if they wanted to take a break before your lesson but they said they were happy to begin right away. They were able to detect the sparkle of excitement in your eyes as you left after their lunch break and were now filled with the same eagerness to begin your lesson.

Setting up their table with tools, aprons and a protective mat warmed your heart. You had planned so many things to do with your future children in your original life, read so many books and attended so many talks, lectures and groups on how to be a good mother that your heart was finally able to heal the scars that resulted from the infertility diagnosis you were slammed with years ago. You felt like a failure, not only as a mother but as a woman to be told that. It wasn’t until you were able to recover from that debilitating news that you finally began to consider adoption. It took years and years and the building of a corporate empire to finally get to that point but then, you were doomed once more. At the centre of a collision in the busy city streets, you lost consciously accepting your fate only to end up here…it was all quite a blessing really. Now you have two beautiful sons to call your own and to love with all of your heart. As an added bonus, they’re also two of your favourite characters from the Harry Potter universe. 

You could barely contain your excitement when you heard a small knock at the door to the study. They were here. 

“Come in, darlings,”

Stepping into the room, Sirius and Regulus gasp in awe and begin jumping on the spot ever so slightly from feverish anticipation. In your outstretched hands were two small, grey aprons, one displaying Sirius’ name and the other Regulus’ along the upper seam of the apron’s breast pocket. Without being asked, they step up to their aprons and reach forward to put the article on themselves. As they do so,  you announce what you will be doing for the afternoon. 

“Clay sculptures?” Sirius almost squeals in excitement as Regulus bounces on the balls of his feet. 

“We’ve never done that before,” Regulus chimes as you kneel behind him to help with tying up his apron, eventually moving on to redo Sirius’ clumsy knot as well.

“It’ll be fun,” you giggle, “fun and messy,” Sirius appreciates the hint of mischief in your voice and rushes to take a seat at the table with Regulus toddling along close behind him. You take a seat too and begin to talk them through the little sculpting tools they have beside them, the small mountain of clay at their disposal and the use for the bowls of water within reach. 

Regulus is listening but he can’t help glimpsing down at his stitched-on name tag every few seconds or so. His chest feels warm and so so tight that he feels like he’s about to burst. You had hand-stitched his name tag onto the apron yourself. He recognised the inexperienced, inconsistent stitches but he thinks it’s the most beautiful display of embroidery he has ever seen. There’s also the revelation that Regulus didn’t need to wait to go to Hogwarts to know that you would be attentive enough to do the same thing for his clothes as you did to Sirius’. He feels special and he loves the affectionate attention you were giving him, all the motherly love he and his older brother had always dreamed of experiencing was finally happening, not only through kind words but in warm hugs, soft kisses and silent acts of service too. He feels a surge of wanting to do well in everything, from studying to writing to eating to sleeping — all of it! He’ll do well in all of it. He only wants to make you proud. 

“Let’s begin with rolling out a piece of our clay,” you start, encouraging them to get messy, keep their clay hydrated and not worry about the state of their tools because you’ll all be washing them at the end together. After that, you had them make little balls using their hands and then roll out one ball into a flat sheet using their small rolling pins. With another ball, you instructed them to attempt making it flat using their hands instead, which helped you explain that moving around the clay with their hands makes the clay easier to mould.  

“Have you two been learning about muggle sciences?” you gently ask as the two go about flattening their spheres a little more so that they can carve patterns into them using their small wooden tools. 

“Yeah, I like the one called physics,” Sirius grins, eyes still focused on his clay.

“Me too!” Regulus chimes and the two brothers grin at each other, which makes you smile. 

“That’s very good,” you nod, spotting an opportunity, “so where do you think the heat comes from when we roll out our clay?” 

“From our hands,” Sirius immediately answers. 

“That’s right, anything else?”

The question is open for the two of them but Regulus is the one who answers next, “From all the moving around,”

“Brilliant, my darlings,” you praise and they grin pridefully. 

“Now, can you name the types of energies those are called? If you’ve learned about them, that is,” The brothers look at each other before beginning to ponder separately. The silence draws on so you decide to give them a little help, “What are all the energies called?” They do just fine with regurgitating the ten different energy types and that seems to be enough to prompt Regulus. 

“The moving around is kinetic energy,”

Sirius jumps to answer as well, “and our hands transfer the thermal energy,”

“Good good!” you give them a small round of applause, which they bashfully smile at, “you two are so clever!… What did I hear about this ‘transferring’ of energy, Siri?” your question comes out in a nonchalant tone. 

“Peony says that energy is stored and transferred,” Sirius answers, “and that they sometimes turn into another type of energy,”

“I see,” you look down at your own clay spheres and sheets, “where is the thermal energy from my hands coming from?” once again, they’re silent, “I think this can link to biology, specifically our biology,” that gets the cogs in their brains turning again and you can’t help but coo at their adorable thinking faces. 

“It’s from…” Regulus begins, immediately catching both yours and Sirius’ undivided attention, your eyes equally encouraging him to continue with his answer, “It’s from the energy in our food,”

Eyes sparkling with delight, you prompt him once more, “And what energy is that called?”

“…Chemical!”

“Good job!” Sirius claps for his brother’s success and reaches up for a high five that Regulus happily hits and once again, they’re grinning at each other. 

“What about for the movement?” This was a trick question but your boys are clever so you have full faith in them. Regulus already answered his share so he silently backs out from the arena by looking up at Sirius who begins to ruminate. “…well the movement has to come from somewhere, doesn’t it?” you thoughtfully point out, beginning to play around with your clay and trying to look innocent about it despite it being a definite clue. 

“It comes from us!” Sirius explains and looks down to play around with his clay too. You stay silent as you let him think and reach the conclusion on his own but you’re already so so proud of their intelligent displays, “…so it’s the same answer, it’s also from chemical energy…” he seems unsure from his tone but the minute he looks up to meet your eyes, the smile on your lips and the applause from you and Regulus has him beaming. 

“My sons are so so clever! I’m very proud of you both!”

That was enough of that — you only remember so much from your younger science education — so you move on to teach them about hatching and being able to stick two pieces of clay together with a little bit of water in order to make a small box with no lid. Thankfully, that was the final thing you intended to teach them before letting them make their own creations. 

“Now, you can make whatever you want with your clay. After this, I’ll bake them so they become solid, and then, we can paint them together. If you run out of clay, just ask and I’ll get you some more,” the two buzzed in their seats from the excitement and you were just as eager to let them loose with their creativity. “You can also make more than one thing but limit yourself to just two or three, please. Also make sure that whatever you make suits a function, it can be anything at all; you can even get some ideas from this muggle book on clay crafting,” you present them with the children’s clay craft book and place it where they can easily reach, “don’t mind getting the edges dirty, as long as the main text and pictures aren’t too muddied up by clay, it’s fine. It’s supposed to get used earnestly anyway,” they smile at your proactive reassurance but only Regulus goes for the clay book while Sirius goes about making his desired creation right away. 

For a while, Sirius cannot decide what to actually make. His speediness into action makes his younger brother peer over at him anxiously quite a few times but his initial unease gradually fades when he realises his older brother keeps changing his mind, flattening a scarcely sculpted creation just as quickly as he begins a new one. You don’t want to interrupt their independent creative flows and get to work on something you’ve already planned to create, a modest gift for your darling boys. 

Some time goes by in silence before you call for Kreacher to play one of the vinyls you managed to buy from a record shop when out on errands to muggle London. You had bought several along with the gramophone at the shop. When you first bought it home, the boys were eager to find out what it was and spent a lot of time happily winding it up so that you could all listen to the records together. It would have been preferable to get the electrical one but it would have been useless in the predominantly magic-operated house.  

“Great choice, Kreacher,” you smile at the house elf who nods timidly by the gramophone and promptly disappears when he feels as though he is no longer needed. The Beatles’ Abbey Road album plays in the background as the soundtrack to your clay sculpting session for several songs-worth of minutes before you finally get up to independently ask the boys about what they had chosen to make. ‘Oh! Darling’ sings in the distant corner as you kneel beside Sirius and quietly ask about his creation and what its function would be. In a whisper, he replies without turning to look at you, far too focused on his creation to divert any significant attention from it.  

“I’m making plant pots,” he begins, his pink tongue slightly poking out of the corner of his mouth, “for the cooking herbs you said you wanted to grow in the kitchen, but I’m also making one for Reggie since he says he wants to grow a plant in his room,” after his nonchalant explanation, your heart soars. It would be a fair assessment to say that Regulus has spoken to him about exploring gardening. You didn’t know your youngest wanted to grow a green thumb but it was a pleasant surprise — you’ll see about taking him to a muggle plant shop soon, you don’t quite trust wizarding plants in the household. A succulent or mini cactus would be a good choice. 

Pressing a kiss onto Sirius’ cheek, you whisper a soft thank you and praise his thoughtfulness before moving on to Regulus. For a moment, the elder brother wishes he could grow out his hair so that you are less likely to notice his flushed cheeks and red-tipped ears. You also kneel by Regulus’ side to whisper the same questions about his creation. 

“I’m making a little jewellery dish for your rings and necklaces and earrings, Mother. And I’m also going to make one for Siri since he’ll be getting the family ring when he’s older. Sirius’ one is going to be star-shaped because he’s named after the brightest star and yours is going to be heart-shaped because…well…” Regulus can’t finish his sentence as his blush floods his entire face with heat. But he doesn’t need to finish his explanation, he’s said all you needed to hear to coo over his thoughtfulness and press a kiss to his cheek also. They’re such sweet boys. That bitch Walburga was blessed to have them and yet she mistreated them so much, they didn’t deserve any of that. Tender love and care is what they truly deserve and that will be your sole mission and life’s purpose for this existence. 

“What are you making, Mother?” Regulus asks unprompted when you finally sit back down by your humble creations again. The youngest’s question makes Sirius perk up and eye you with interest, his grey eyes flicking between you and the carefully shaped clay by your hands. 

“I’m making little star-shaped pendants for my little star boys,” smiling at their flustered expressions, you elaborate further, “I’m going to poke a hole near the top point so I can thread it through a chain and you can wear it as a necklace or a bracelet — you can choose,” you show them one with a carved ’S’ on it, “this one is for Siri,” next you present the one with an ‘R’ on it, “and this one is for Reggie,” they beam in happiness at the getting such a personalised gift from you and continue their clay projects with new-found vigour. 

It was relatively easy to create the small star pendants so, inspired by Regulus’ creations, you proceeded to craft minimalist ring bands, one each of you. Sirius’ you carved the same sort of archaic patterns as that of his wand, for Regulus, you did simple lines with an occasional dot and for yours, evenly placed mini daisies. At first, it was purely for making sure that Regulus didn’t feel left out from Sirius getting the family ring but, looking at your modest creations, your magnate mind begins to manifest an innovative idea you’re itching to begin. Your schedule is going to fill up very quickly and soon — there isn’t a chance that you’ll wait on this. 

1st September 1971

Today couldn’t have crept up on you quickly enough. One minute you were settling into a cosy routine with your darling sons and now you were sending the eldest away for wizarding boarding school. It was happening too fast and your heart was constantly breaking from being torn between freely letting him go and childishly begging him to stay so that you could spend as much time with him as possible. Even the novelty of rushing onto platform 9¾ through the brick wall between platforms 9 and 10 couldn’t keep the tears from filling your eyes. However, your unhappiness and woe were quickly wiped away when Sirius expressed muted sadness at the idea that his father was too busy to see him off to Hogwarts. That morning, try as you might you couldn’t convince Orion to be there for his son. The git was lucky Sirius had interrupted your argument to express his acceptance and neutrality over the situation or else you would have clocked the pretentious asshole’s jaw. You would be surprised if the hypothetical punch landed hard enough to dislocate both of his temporomandibular joints. He would be eating through a tube if it weren’t for your little boy’s interruption but you’ll be sure to sink your teeth into your git of a husband as soon as you get home. 

Regulus seems to be whispering something to his older brother as they share a hug of goodbye. There was plenty of time for Sirius to get onto the train - you made sure of that - and you promised to wave him off as the train left the station so none of you were in any rush to leave the other. You kindly smile down at their wholesome interaction, completely drawn in by their innocence and heartfelt brotherly love for each other. Their relationship was worth preserving and building up. You were once saddened by Sirius and Regulus’ torn apart brotherhood but now, you’ll be devastated if your sons ever broke their bond like in the movies and books. So distracted by your loveable sons’ endearing display, you miss the shocked looks you were receiving from fellow parents of other children who were also boarding to attend Hogwarts — they simply couldn’t believe it! 

Everyone knew the matriarch of the Black family. However, the very picture of her now was not what was to be expected. Rumours of her cold and unsympathetic disposition appeared as slanderous lies when they took in your warm smile and fond stare, looking solely upon your two sons. It was well-known amongst the wizarding community that the famous Black family’s eldest son, Sirius Black, would begin attending Hogwarts this year. They expected to see a conceited and substantially reserved display of the family by the platform but not… not this! This is something for the papers! Had the matriarch of the most ancient and noble house of Black always looked this beautiful and kind? Surely not!… But their eyes weren’t being deceived, they were seeing the truth! Many gasped and openly stared, thankfully hushed down by the nosiness of the platform, whilst others didn’t know how to interpret the display and opted to avert their eyes.

Around his small wrist, Sirius keeps your clay star pendant around his wrist, which had been painted a deep black per his request while the ’S’ is marked with metallic silver paint. He has such good taste for aesthetics despite his young age. Every day there was something new to be proud of him for, no matter how little. You love being a mother!

“Oh darling, I’m going to miss you so so much. You must promise me that you’ll take care of yourself, don’t be scared about making friends,” you look him in the eye as you say so, combing your fingers through his hair and pushing away the curling locks from his forehead, “they’re going to love you just as much as I do,”

“Me too, Siri,” Regulus’ soft interjection brings out a mutual laugh from you and the eldest Black brother. Sirius brings Regulus into another hug that you are also brought into.

“And if they don’t like you then they can suffer having none of those mini pies I baked for you,” the two of you share a smirk and a wink. Sirius had requested some shelf-stable foods to bring such as his favourite chutney, jams and jerky, all homemade by you, especially for him. Of course, you didn’t say no. You even suggested bringing along something yummy for the train ride despite already providing him an allowance to spend on the trolley. 

“Regulus and I will write to you as often as we can so be on the lookout for our letters, okay?” he nods, eyes already sparkling from the anticipation and thought of receiving mail by owl solely for him. A letter addressed only to him, with his name on the envelope, and meant only for him to read — his feverish anticipation was to be expected. He couldn’t wait for his first letter. 

“I’ll write back just as much, promise!” 

“Good because if you don’t,” you scold playfully as Sirius bites back a cheeky giggle, “I’ll go to Hogwarts and demand a written letter back myself, I’ll bring Reggie with me too so that’s twice the heat you’ll be under young man, don’t forget,”

“Never,” Sirius whispers as he throws himself into your embrace once more. There’s never going to be enough hugging to satiate your aching heart, nor squash the sadness of watching your baby grow up too fast but, knowing the mischief and fun he’ll be getting up to, makes you almost giddy with excitement. You want to read all about it in his letters home! 

As much as you’d like to have said your farewells for longer, Sirius still needed to board and needed help with his luggage. Thankfully there were plenty of staff to help him lug it all around, which you smiled gratefully for. They seemed stunned by your courtesy but tipped their caps in acknowledgement and whispered a quick ‘thanks’ in return, regardless. 

Stepping back from the platform with Regulus at your side, the two of you try to follow Sirius along the train compartments as closely as you can until you finally see him settling into a box by himself. You wonder if he’ll be meeting his fellow marauders soon — god! You wish you could see them as adorable 11-year-old babies like your Sirius right now. 

Regulus toddles up to be closer to the window, opposed to the thought of separating from his brother and tries to hold one last conversation with Sirius as everyone waits for the train to depart. To hear him clearer, Sirius reaches up to open the window. Smiling at the pair fondly, you almost miss a heart-stopping sight. From your left peripheral, you spot an untameable mess of dark hair and round hazel eyes sparkling in jubilation, framed with an adorable pair of round glasses — you barely withhold your gasp of surprise. But all too soon, from your right, you glimpse a head of neatly trimmed but slightly grown-out brown hair, belonging to a rather spindly boy swamped under a cosy autumn-brown jumper. On his softly curving jaw is a light, nicking scar and when he turns his head ever so slightly, you see another more prominent scar marked across the pudge of his cheek. You’ve seen a wild, baby-ish James Potter and Remus Lupin. Almost all of the marauders were spotted getting onto the Hogwarts Express but do you even want to see the final member? No! Of course not! It was then that you noticed sandy-blonde hair weaving through the crowds of parents wishing their children farewell – a last-minute attempt at getting onto the train on time. Behind him, he is followed by a similarly blonde woman, his mother. Goodness, both share such startling similarities, both have curved edges to their silhouette, pink cheeks and sea-blue eyes. They looked like an adorable pair and you had to admit that Peter’s portly appearance made him incredibly endearing for his age. They looked like an ordinary, harmless mother-son pair, much like you and your boys…

A whistle pierces through the station and snaps you out of your daze. Finally turning back to your Sirius, your eyes tear up again for the umpteenth time that day. Regulus had rushed back to your side, clinging onto the long, black skirt of your dress with one hand as he used the other to wave goodbye. Silently, you mouth an ‘I love you’. He isn’t as surprised as when you whispered the same affection to him whilst still on the platform so he was able to mouth it back — ‘I love you too, Mother,’ — your heart pinches. Picking Regulus up, you sit him on the curve of your hip and wave Sirius off together. You see the slight shimmer of tears in Sirius’ eyes too just before the train moves too far and takes Sirius away with it. 

You miss him already.

SERIES M.LIST | NEXT. 05 : SIRIUS : FIRST DAY →

A/N : surprise! goodness, this was a really big chapter hehe~ i hope you darlings enjoyed the read! i also would like to gently remind everyone that i am no longer doing taglists but to be notified whenever i post something, please follow and turn on notifications for reblog side account: @thekqipond where i will be reblogging every new fic as soon as i post it! the reason i was able to post this chapter a month ahead of my official come-back in October was to test my taglist solution and the order of chapters i want to post by Christmas ;) i hope you enjoy!

please like, comment and reblog to show your support, i'd really appreciate it! property of kquil ; all written content is mine and no one else's unless stated otherwise ; do not steal, plagiarise, modify or translate to other sites

[writtenbymisunderstoodnerds]

Rock bottom (But you pulled me up) (Ingrid Engen x Reader)

I'm trying to work on my requests and WIP, but inspiration is lacking so I thought I'd try something new. This is my first time writing for someone out of the uswnt and in this style so please let me know what you think.

Warnings: Mentions of depression, anxiety, brief emotional abuse. Slightly suggestive at the end. Anything I've missed let me know.

Words: 2.8K

You could tell Ingrid was hurt, it was written all over her face. She had made you a lovely dinner and just wanted to have a movie night after not spending much time together. Yet here you were making an excuse to leave once again, you felt like a horrible girlfriend. Ingrid had taken the time to do something nice for you, but you couldn't get out of your head enough to enjoy it. Before you had the chance to get up, Ingrid uttered those three words that sent dread coursing through you. "We need to talk."

You swallowed hard before speaking, "About what?" 

"You barely spend anytime with me anymore. You never message me first, we only do stuff because I organise it. I don't feel like you want me anymore. You're slipping away. Are you trying to get me to break up with you because this hurts so much more than just doing it yourself."

"No! Ingrid-" Tears stung your eyes as you tried desperately to keep it together. Afraid that if she saw how broken you were she would just leave. Things had been difficult for you lately, you were depressed, anxious and stressed. You felt so close to rock bottom, as a result you had been pulling away from Ingrid. The last thing you wanted was Ingrid to leave you, but you also didn't want to be a burden to her or scare her away with your emotions. 

"Then what is it? Did I do something wrong?"

You could practically see the hope disappearing from Ingrid's eyes the longer you didn't answer, leaving hurt in its place. "I feel like when I see you, I need to be able to give you 100% of myself, of my energy and time. I can't do that right now and it makes me feel guilty. Like I'm a horrible girlfriend, that you deserve better than what I'm giving you."

Ingrid took your hand, everything in you fighting the urge to lean into her touch, to fall into the comfort you knew was waiting. If only you could bring yourself to accept it. The voices of your parents and ex-girlfriend hung in the back of your mind stopped you though. The voices that told you you were a burden to the people around you, that everyone had bigger problems to worry about and didn't care about you. The voices that told you Ingrid deserved better than you and your problems. 

"Elskling, relationships don't have to be equal all the time. There's times where it'll be 50/50, but there's times where you give 90% and I'll give 10% or the other way round, sometimes it'll be 70/30 or 60/40. You get my point. What's going on? You haven't been yourself lately and it's really worrying me. Talk to me please."

You sighed pulling away from Ingrid to cross your legs under yourself, grabbing a cushion to hold. There was a part of you that thought being single would be easier, that there was less risk of hurting Ingrid that way. At the same time you knew it was those stupid little voices in the back of your mind that kept pushing that thought. You loved Ingrid more than anything in this world and deep down you knew she loved you just as much. You didn't want to let everyone else win, you didn't want to let your mind win for once in your life. 

Talking about feelings was incredibly hard, it wasn't something you could do while being comforted by Ingrid or anyone really. "I'm sorry for the way I've been acting lately, it's not fair to you and I know that. I-I'll try to explain it all, bu-but I need you to be patient with me. Just let me speak and not touch me, I can't do this if you do."

"Anything you need. I just need you to know that whatever you tell me, I won't ever judge you. I love you Y/n, I love you so much."

"I love you Ingrid. I'm sorry if I ever made you doubt that. Okay, so I um I think I need to start with why I have such a hard time letting people in, especially those I love. My family, well to put it bluntly they're assholes. They were constantly putting down everything about my sister and I, nothing we ever did was good enough. Any problems we went through were nothing to them, they always told us that people had bigger problems, that they had bigger problems and we were just adding more stress to their lives if we talked to them about anything remotely not positive. Tha-thats the short version anyway. My uh my ex was pretty similar, she would tell me that she had better things to do then deal with my trauma or depression. If I was unhappy she would turn it around, say that she wasn't enough to make me happy. Even before her, I majorly struggled with my feelings and opening up to people. Fear mostly, that's why I um haven't told you anything. Fear that I'll be too much for you and that you'll leave me."

Tears threatened to fall, but pushing them back you continued talking. "I'm really struggling right now Ingrid. My depression is the worst it's been in years. The anxiety just sits there constantly under the surface making it feel impossible to breathe. Constant doubt about if I've made the right decisions, if I'm good enough at football, if I'm good enough for you, there are so many more things I could list. Sometimes I feel like everyone would be better off if I just packed up and left. I'm so sick of feeling like this, but I don't know how to get it to stop. This is probably one of the scariest things I've ever done, but I've had already almost lost you Ingrid. I can't let them win by actually losing you. I love you so fucking much, I can't lose you Ingrid, I can't."

Tears were near pouring out of you both as Ingrid sat there for a second. When you didn't speak she must have decided you were finished talking because the next second arms wrapped around you so tightly and you completely broke. Ingrid held you tight until the sobs turned to sniffles then you feel silent. Ingrid's hold never completely let go, it was like a life line at this point. 

"I love you Y/n. I loved you before and I still love you just as much now. I'm not going anywhere. Nothing your parents or ex said is true. I always want to know how and what you're feeling, I will always be here for you. No matter what your mind tells you, you are never too much for me or for the team or anyone who truly loves you. Our lives are so much better with you here so please don't even think about leaving because we will miss you. I will be here every step of the way while you figure things out, I will help you get the help you need. If you need space, I'll give you that, but if you need me here then I will always be here. I know you feel like you need to be giving me all of yourself, all of your energy, but you don't. Even if you can just give me 1% until you get over this bump in the road then that's enough for me. You are enough for me Y/n."

"I think there will be times when I need to be alone, but most of the time I just really want to be with you. I need to work on accepting that I deserve your love and comfort so I actually seek it out when I need it or want it. Some reassurance every now and then will help I think. Can we talk about the next steps tomorrow? I just want you to hold me right now."

"I will give you all the reassurance you need and more. Have you eaten today?" Ingrid asked, but the look in her eyes told you she knew the answer so you just shook your head. "Okay, I'm going to order some food while we cuddle here then we can go to bed."

True to her word, Ingrid held you tightly while you lay on the couch, staying close to your side during dinner and as you got ready for bed. "Thank you, for everything you've done, for being here, for loving me."

Ingrid kissed you softly, before pulling away and leaving soft kisses over your face, "Always."

Lying in bed later that night, head resting against Ingrid's chest, you decided to admit the one thing that kept swirling around your mind, "I think I need to take a break from football. Not the training, I think that helps me, but games. The pressure that comes from each game feels like weight being added. Makes me feel like I'm being dragged further down into this hole."

"Okay, if that's what you feel you need then we can talk to the coaches or Ale and she can sort it out. I know the thought of telling anyone else what is going on is scary, but Ale or anyone else on the team aren't going to judge you or think any less of you because of it."

"I think maybe we can talk to Alexia, not tell her everything, but the jist of it."

"I'll be by your side when you're ready." ---

It had been a few weeks since the talk with Ingrid and since you made the decision to stop playing in games for a while. The only person who knew why was Alexia, it was clear that everyone else was worried, but until now you hadn't felt ready to tell them and thankfully they didn't push. 

There was still a long way to go, but things had been slowly getting better over the last few weeks. You had started seeing the team therapist multiple times a week and had restarted medication for the time being at least. Everything was starting to become clearer, you weren't as anxious all the time, you were becoming more willing to talk to Ingrid, to actually spend time with her without worrying about not being enough, and smiles and laughs were becoming more genuine when they did happened. 

The team had been amazing despite not knowing what was going on, they were as supportive and loving as ever. So you decided it was time to let them in a little bit. You squeezed Ingrid's hand, getting her attention as you spoke quietly, "Can you get their attention please? I know they're worried about me and I think I'm ready to tell them."

"Hey! Can we have your attention for a minute."

Once everyone's attention was on you, the anxiousness started to creep in, but with Ingrid's hand still firmly holding yours, you took a deep breath and spoke, "I know you've all be wondering why I've effectively benched my self the last couple of weeks and I want to be honest about it. I've uh I've been um struggling a lot mentally at the moment and I decided I needed a break. The pressure was too much, I couldn't handle it on top of everything else. So uh yeah, I don't want you guys to keep worrying about me."

It was quiet for a few seconds before many arms wrapped themselves around you, mumbled we love you's and we're proud of you's were heard as you sunk into the arms of your teammates. Surprisingly, Mapi was the first to pull away, cupping your cheeks as she spoke uncharacteristically softly, "You keep doing what you're doing and come back to us when you're ready. You always have is in your corner Y/n. We are so proud of you and we love you. If there's anything you ever need you can come to us okay?"

"Thank you Mapi. Thanks all of you." --- A few months had passed and you were finally feeling like yourself again. There were still hard days, you were pretty sure there always would be, but you were genuinely happy again most of the time. You found yourself more willing to open up to not just Ingrid, but some of the other girls you were closest to. It was safe to say your life was pretty well back on track, there was just one thing left to do and that was get back to football. You hadn't told anyone of your plans to start playing games again, you had just been put in the line up as a sub, but after conversations with the coaching staff you knew you were likely to come in at half time. 

When the line up came out, Alexia was the first to notice and speak up effectively getting everyone else's attention, "Y/n?"

"Yes Ale?"

"Is there anything you want to tell us?"

Ingrid looked at you confused as you shrugged trying to be as innocent as possible while knowing exactly what she was talking about. "Oh really? Well how about the small fact that your name is on the substitute list again?"

"Oh yeah. That is a thing I guess."

Smiles grew on everyone's faces as it clicked what was happening. Ingrid practically jumped on you repeating over and over how proud she was, kisses placed over your faces. The team joined not long after, everyone cheered and congratulated you. 

"Okay okay, you can let go of me now. Yes I finally feel ready to come back."

Once everyone had let you go, Alexia pulled you up into a hug. Since she found out about your struggles, Alexia had been amazing. She was always subtly checking in whether you were at training or not, she would pull you away when everything got too overwhelming and Ingrid was busy, making some excuse so know one else would know the truth. Alexia was always just there in a way that was subtle and comforting. "Well we're so so glad you're back. I'm so proud of you Y/n."

"Thank you Ale, for everything."

As soon as your foot hit the pitch, you felt the excitement, adrenaline and happiness that you thought may have been gone for good. You felt yourself falling in love with football all over again, it was like the final weight had fallen from your shoulders. There would always be bad days or even bad weeks, you knew that, but with Ingrid, your family and your new found coping mechanisms, you finally felt ready to face them. 

---

You arms wrapped around Ingrid as she chopped the vegetables, she briefly turned to kiss your cheek before going back to her task. "Hi Elskling, you played really well today. How did it feel?"

"Hey love. It felt incredible, I know I needed a break, but man did I miss it. Anyway, enough about me I have a surprise for you. I was originally going to give it to you after dinner, but I can't wait anymore. Here." You replied, placing an envelope on the counter in front of her. You could never express how thankful you were for everything Ingrid had done for you over the last few months, for sticking by your side through everything. So instead you had decided to start with a few days away in Venice. It was something she had wanted to do for a while and you decided to make it happen.

 Ingrid looked at you for a second before opening the envelope, a smile appearing as she looked at the tickets inside. "What's this?" 

"I know what you're going to say to this, but I am so thankful for everything you've done for me. Sure we've spent a lot of time together, but it hasn't been the quality, good time you deserve. So you and I are going to spend a few days alone in Venice in a couple of weeks when we have a bit of time off. Now I don't want to hear any buts or I didn't have to do this, just say you're excited and give me a kiss."

Ingrid cupped your cheeks, allowing you to press her against the counter as she pulled you in for a lingering kiss. Just as Ingrid went to pull away, you cupped the back of her neck pulling her back in as the kiss grew heated. You didn't want to say that you stopped enjoying Ingrid's kisses because that's impossible, it was just intimacy beyond cuddling between the two of you had dropped off to almost nothing the last few months. There were still short kisses here and there, but you couldn't get out of your head long enough to actually be present for anything more and that wasn't fair to Ingrid. Your lips moved along her jaw as a quite moan slipped past Ingrid's lips.

"Di-dinner," Ingrid moaned as your hand slipped under her shirt. 

Ingrid's legs wrapped around your waist as you walked back to the bedroom, "Dinner can wait."

[howlett-n-morgan]

More Than Words

3. An Advantageous Journey

Logan Howlett x OC!Reader

Series Summary: Having lived for over two hundred years and never having the privilege of human touch is the biggest burden imaginable... until someone comes along with the healing ability to withstand the touch of death.

Chapter Warnings: mild language, mentions of scars and blood, a few traumatic events and ptsd symptoms, mostly fluff in this one guys… but LOGAN IS A WARNING. Oh and also I’m not from Canada and only have one Canadian friend so my apologies if Canada is depicted poorly… she was like ‘it’s just like America except there’s more snow and some people speak French’

Chapter Summary: Going back to Canada is supposed to be a quick trip that benefits Logan’s memory, but upon arriving, he seems to think that a fews days need be spent on diversions.

Word Count: 15.3k (God help me-)

“Then how were they able to cut you up?”  Poor phrasing, but he was never one for a gentle touch in his wording.  “Same way you were able to,” you reminded him, rolling up your sleeve to show where his claw marks had almost completely healed over. “Adamantium.” “Adamantium? You’re kidding,” he almost found it funny, the irony of it all. He’s the only one who can touch you, but he’s also the only one who can hurt you. “How’d they figure that out?”

The professor was the first one to speak to Logan the morning you both planned on leaving the mansion. Everyone was made aware of this, but few people understood why it was so necessary. Even Scott, who had endured some of the same treatment as you and Logan, did not know how to justify such a spontaneous trip in the midst of all the chaos surrounding mutants. Especially after the recent situation with Magneto.

It could be dangerous, but above all things, it could also bring answers. And Logan needed answers. About who he was, what he did, and where he’s supposed to go, now. The pain from his nightmares has subsided only a small bit while being here with everyone. He wants to make them go away for good. 

When Charles sits him down in the study that morning, he thinks he understands why. You’re a very important member of the team. He wants to make sure you return, and without a scratch. It makes sense in his mind… but the professor has other ideas for the conversation. 

“How long do you both plan on being away?” He asks, keeping a tether on Logan’s mind in case he is even the slightest bit dishonest. 

“Not sure,” he began with a sigh, sitting back into the seat he’d been given. “I guess it depends.”

“On what, exactly?” Charles kept his questioning thorough, but not for the reason of interrogating him. 

“On what we find.” Logan shrugged his shoulders and raised a brow. He really had no idea what he was going into when you said you’d take him to Stryker’s old bunker. “Guessing from the nightmares I’ve had, it’s not really a nice place.”

“Well, I assure you,” Charles began, turning his chair to the side and reaching for some documents on his desk. “You are in the best of hands. The very best. I just hope you know how lucky you really are.”

“Lucky? How so?” Logan’s curiosity wandered. He knew you were a valuable member of the team, and he was grateful that you would offer him such a strenuous task on your own shoulders, but he caught on that there was more that Charles hadn’t spoken. 

“Alice is a rare mutant. Like you, she can stand the tests of time, and never waiver. She is nearly immortal, and takes her job of protecting others very seriously.” 

“I picked that up,” Logan nodded in agreement. “She cares a lot about saving people.”

“She cares even more for those who are close to her,” the old man warned, his expression becoming more solemn and serious. “She will go to incredible lengths to keep her loved ones out of harm’s way.”

Logan was beginning to wonder where the point was in all of this. He knew you were the type to look out for others above yourself. You were an X-man, it kind of came as a job requirement… but more than that, he knew you were kinder than most people were, and the help you extended to him was not just a simple favor. 

“She has never experienced a bond like she has with you… with human touch.”

He understands now. Your powers, and the impact they have had on you is immense. You have to keep everyone at arm’s length, except for him. He can be let in, and he can do the things that others can’t.

“What exactly are you telling me?” Logan pondered, gruffly. Even with the professor’s point being made, he was still curious as to why he would bring this all up.

“I’m telling you to be careful. She’s already grown strongly attached to you for the sake of your touch, and will likely become fonder in these days to come. I ask you to think about and consider her feelings when you take her with you… If you hurt her, the consequences would be unimaginable.”

Logan does consider them, for a split second he considers them. He knows you’re fond of him, otherwise this escapade would not even be happening… but he also knows that his ability to touch you is the defining factor. His feelings for someone else block out any signs that your interest in him could further develop, at least past what it is already. Even with all this in mind, Logan is a smartass, and wants to tempt the man in charge by challenging his threat. 

“I can imagine quite a bit,” he smirked, nodding his head side to side. 

Charles did not take that comedically whatsoever, and Logan didn’t really expect him to. It was probably a bad idea to open his mouth in the first place. 

“You mock me when I’m trying to help you?” 

“No sir,” he let out with a breath. 

“The consequences I speak of would not be dealt by I or any of her colleagues…”

“Then by who?” Logan asked, his voice not raised, but becoming more prominent as the conversation became more pointed than it was before. “Is there some big bad monster I should be worried about?” 

Charles sighed. He wasn’t getting anywhere, and Logan only seemed to become irritated the more he spoke. He took a glance into the man’s mind, and found that a beautiful woman with long red hair rested among his thoughts, though he should not be thinking about the woman that is most definitely taken. 

“I can see that your mind is clouded by thoughts of someone else,” Xavier changed the subject, tapping into the specific thoughts and trying to gather more details. It appears this conversation was mostly for nothing. Charles sighs, “Do not hurt Alice, Logan. If you do, her pain will become yours.”

“I won’t hurt her,” Logan stood up, assuming this was the last of the professor’s advisory words. He was becoming quickly annoyed with how little the man trusted him, and how intrusive he’d been this whole time. 

He wouldn’t lead you on, but he wouldn’t shut you out, either. You’d been so helpful to him, he wasn’t going to push away the one piece of his past that just might bring everything together. That would be foolish of him. 

“Logan,” The professor stopped him one more time, and he turned to look at the man, sitting straight and with a firm gaze from his wheelchair. “When the time is right, ask her about a man named Charlie.”

Logan sighed, filing that thought away in his mind before heading back upstairs to pack some of his belongings together. 

-

You never wanted to go back to Canada. 

You swore after you got out the first time that nothing good could ever come out of Canada and you stuck to that belief. 

But you’d met Logan in Canada, and he wasn’t so bad. Scott, too… although he’d been a teenager at the time and was much more annoying back then.

“On your way already?” Ororo was leaning in your doorway when you looked up, watching you stuff your travel backpack until it could barely zip up on the side. 

“About to be,” you heaved it up onto your back, adjusting your posture to hold it correctly, then walked to meet her at the door. “I wasn’t going to leave without saying goodbye.”

She grabbed your hand, covered in your little green gloves. “Keep in touch, will you?” 

“I will, I promise,” you nodded gently. “I won’t stay away for long.”

“You say that now,” she crossed her arms and shook her head jokingly. “But going away with a guy that looks like that? And he’s the only man in the world that can touch you? Baby, I’ll be lucky if I ever see you again.”

You laughed along with her, giving a warm smile and a nod. “He’s something…”

“He’s ready to go,” Logan teased, coming up behind Ororo.

You blushed, knowing he probably heard the conversation while leaving his room. You avoided making eye contact with him yet, just gave a thin lip smile while looking back to your dear friend and saying your last goodbyes. You only wished you could hug her close to you, for all the years she’s spent in your corner. 

“I guess I’ll see you around, Ro.” 

“Don’t be a stranger… Call me when you can.” She gave you a strong look, indicating that she was serious, and not just playing along for the sake of goodbyes.

“You know I will…” you trailed, giving her one more squeeze of the hand before walking behind Logan towards the stairs. 

Once at the bottom, there was just a slight obstacle. Rogue caught you both leaving, and had a few words to say. 

You’d admit, you felt bad leaving her here, especially when you’d been so adamant to her before that you were going to teach her about her powers and how to get used to them without the fear of hurting others. It’s only now that you realize you won’t be able to help in the most detrimental stages of her mutant education… but you would return. You knew you would. 

You had to help Logan, first. He was the priority. He saved your life once, and it was time to pay that debt forward. 

Logan had left his dog tags with Rogue, along with a promise that he would be back. Of course he would… Or maybe he wouldn’t. You never thought about what could happen if he should find his memories and remember who he is. He might have loved ones and a family to return to…

“She’s got a crush on you,” you mentioned to him once you were out of the house. You looked at him, and he seemed unsurprised. “And she trusts you…”

“I figured that much,” he smirked, walking towards the main garage around the side of the large house. 

“Did you mean it?” 

“Did I mean what?” He turned to ask you, his features twisted in confusion. 

You sighed, stopping at the garage door but making no motion to use the lock pad to open it. 

“When you said you were going to come back…” you trailed, scanning your thumb print on the pad so the door would fold up. State of the art technology for the lock, but the same old door from the seventies. 

It took him longer than you expected to answer the question, but you figured since it held some weight, it was good that he thought it out clearly. 

“Yeah, I meant it.”

You looked to him, the decision he made was worn on his face and it was easy to see he was telling the truth. 

“Good,” you nodded, walking inside first and grabbing your keys from your pocket. Logan immediately gave you a glance of mischief, and walked in the other direction. 

“Logan, no…”

“Logan, yes,” he taunted, going over to sit on the motorcycle that belonged to Scott. You weren’t going to play this game with him.

“We are not going all the way to Canada on a bike.” You were trying to be the reasonable one here, but he was so damn stubborn. Two could play that game, you were stubborn, too. “Get in the car.”

“Get on the bike,” he nodded behind him, the open seat looking appealing for only a moment. “I know you want to…”

“No, I don’t…” you opened the driver’s side door, and climbed in, shutting it behind you… but he didn’t budge from the damn motorcycle. 

When he turned it on, the engine roaring to life and revving from the motions of his hand, you closed your eyes for a split second before doing the worst thing you could have possibly done. You climbed out of the car and went to the motorcycle, swinging a leg over and holding onto him with a big huff. He knew you did it for show, not because you were actually upset. 

“Comfy?” He threw a smirk over his shoulder, and you huffed again for emphasis. 

“No.”

He just laughed, pulling out of the garage and onto the road. 

You would admit, the wind in your hair, and the lovely smell of the pine trees lining the streets was wonderful. All the sights on the way to your destination were quite lovely, and though you could see them from your car just the same, it wouldn’t feel like this. 

This feels like flying, almost, with the breeze beneath your wings, and the sounds of nature as you pass through. 

Logan can almost sense your smile when you drive by a particular area full of color changing aspens, the scenery surrounding you felt almost like a dream, something from out of a movie. 

He never said anything to taunt you about being right, or made a comment about how much you seemed to be enjoying yourself. It was silent between you both for hours, until the sun began had set, and you’d finally crossed the border into Canada. 

“We’re gonna have to stop soon for the night,” he mentioned when you’d pulled off the road to get something to eat. Just a little rest-stop… gas stations, fast food, the works. You’d spotted a sign a few miles back for a motel, but weren’t sure where to go in order to get there. 

“Fill up the tank, I’ll go inside and ask about directions,” you told him, swinging your leg off of the bike and walking away. 

He was certain that this dynamic between the two of you was working well already, and that he didn’t need to heed Charle’s words as much as he originally intended. You seemed to go with the flow of things, and were rather easy to get along with… and you didn’t seem to be super into him like the professor said you would be. You cared about him, sure… but he cared about you too, and without crossing any lines. 

Filling up the bike, he leaned against the metal machinery, his head dozing back and forth from his tired state. It wasn’t until you returned, holding a map and a bag of gas station pastries that he was fully aware again. 

“The guy marked that motel out for me on the map,” you said, unfolding the paper and showing it to him, the red marker lining the road and the turn off. “It’s two exits down.”

“Easy enough.” He took a look at the marked location for himself, waiting for the gas pump to finish topping off the tank.

“I got you a donut,” you said, handing him a paper bag like your own. You’d pulled a maple donut from yours, so he was appalled to find that his was not also a maple donut. 

“Chocolate?” His eyebrows raised, only teasing you, but still just slightly butthurt about the donut. 

“You don’t like chocolate?” You furrowed your eyebrows, talking with your mouth full of the first bite you took.

“Did they not have any other maple glazed?” he nodded to yours, the joking nature still filling his tone. 

“This was the last one.” You reasoned. You found it a little funny, but felt a little bad at the same time. 

He huffed, shaking his head, but then you smiled sweetly, holding out the donut with a single bite taken to him. 

“I’ll trade you,” you offered, knowing that in the end, it was just a donut compared to the grand scheme of things. 

“Thanks,” he muttered gratefully, a sideways smile spreading on his cheeks. He’ll admit, it was a sweet gesture, no matter how small. He handed you the chocolate donut, and took a bite out of the one you gave him. “Maple donuts are for real Canadians.”

“You’re Canadian?” you asked, a bit of surprise coming from you. You met him in Canada, but it was somehow still a shock to you. He seemed very American when you first met him, and even now. 

“S’one of the only things I can remember,” he nodded, his demeanor livening up quickly, and all because of a donut.

“Huh,” you stared off, wondering if he’d known Stryker for long before his memory faltered. Clearly he’d been abused by the man, but to what extent, you weren’t sure. You have bits and pieces of memories from that era, and most were just feelings of the energy around you.

“You didn’t know?” 

“You didn’t tell me…” you trailed, enjoying the chocolate donut, despite maple donuts being better. Him enjoying it was satisfying enough.

“We should get out of here,” he yawned, crumpling up the paper bag and tossing it into a nearby trash can. “Road is dark, and I’m tired.”

“Big, strong, manly… but gets tired on a little road trip?” You teased, finishing up the pastry before throwing away the trash and getting back on the bike with him.

“You try steering this thing all day.” He threw a smirk over his shoulder, revving the engine. 

“I would, if you’d let me,” you chided, another taunt that you knew wouldn’t end in your favor. He’d never be caught dead on the back of a motorcycle like this with someone else behind the handles.

“Not a chance…” 

-

Having checked into the small motel, you ached for a shower, but given that Logan was practically falling asleep already, you let him go first. 

Maybe it was a mistake, he’d been in there for a while, and you thought maybe all the hot water would be gone by the time it was your turn. You just hoped he hadn’t fallen asleep in there, propped against the shower wall. 

You might just shower tomorrow at this point, unwilling to wait for the water to heat back up. 

With a sigh, you changed into something a little more comfortable, the pair of sweatpants and sweater that were shoved to the bottom of your giant backpack. It was wrinkled as all hell from the journey, but you knew that didn’t matter. It was cozy, and warm, and being in Canada as late fall was setting in meant you needed to be as warm as possible. 

You curled up on the queen bed closest to the heater with your book, which you’d deemed necessity enough to bring on this escapade to another country.

When Logan finally emerged, he’d adorned a pair of flannel pants, and a gray t-shirt, which was admittedly a bit small for him. The fabric hugged his body a bit tighter than he was used to, but good lord almighty… this man looked stunning. 

The dim light from the bathroom, mixed with the warm glow from your bedside lamp while you read, it made him look like he glistened. The stray water drops on his face and neck, and the quickly curling upwards strands of his damp hair. You never guessed that his hair just did that naturally. You found yourself staring a little too long, and as soon as Logan picked up on it, dropping the towel he used to dry his hair, he chanced a look in your direction. Quickly your eyes found the pages of your book again, and you kept a straight face, hoping nothing would be said about it.

“That a good book?” he smirked, knowing that you could barely even focus on it a second ago. 

“Mhm,” you zoned in on the words, reading them over and over, but none of what they mean stuck in your head. You could only think about what you just saw, and what you still could see if only you turned your gaze. 

“It looks old,” he commented on the bent pages and old fabric cover. It looked worn and well loved. 

“It is old. I got it on the day it was released in nineteen fifty-three.”

He whistled lowly, his eyebrows raising in surprise. “You read it a lot?”

“Once a year,” you mumbled, still acting engrossed with the page you’d been stuck on since he entered the room. “It’s my favorite book.”

“What’s it about?” He sat down on the edge of his bed, leaning forward and looking at you tiredly. He was exhausted, wasn’t he? Why didn’t he just say goodnight and go to bed?

“The future… the way the author thinks our societies will begin to crumble,” you explained, turning towards him and letting the book fall on your chest, pages still open. “Books will be outlawed, and a group called the firemen will be required to burn any that are found.”

“Sounds interesting… also sounds a little miserable. Why’s it your favorite?” He grinned, throwing his sheets and blankets up and lying beneath them, keeping his head propped up on his hand so he wouldn’t fall asleep yet. The warm glow of your bedside lamp cast him in such a pretty glow…

“I think it feels very real to me, in a way…”

“You think books are gonna be outlawed?” He laughed slightly, clearly finding himself misunderstanding your meaning. 

“No, but with the way things are playing out, it feels like a projection of what’s to come. Of course, they will make the enemies of the future out to be mutants, not books.”

“And these… firemen,” he put finger quotes around the word, trying to be hypothetical about the situation. “You think there will be groups like that?” 

“Mutant hunters? Absolutely… They’re already out there, just look at what happened to us,” you sighed, the facts of the matter weighing you down, even though it had been a pleasant conversation. You enjoyed talking about your favorite book, but everyone in the mansion had already heard about it a thousand times. It was refreshing to get a new audience to share thoughts with. 

“I never thought about it that way…” he furrowed his brow, his eyes drooping with every second passed. He had to be fighting sleep for his life. 

“Mutants are supposed to be the future… but we’ll never see that future if we have to battle extinction.” 

He didn’t reply, his mind elsewhere. You watched him carefully, his face looking deep in thought. You returned to your book by the time he finally spoke up again. 

“You’ll have to let me borrow that book sometime,” he rolled over as he said it, so when you glanced over at him, his back was facing you. “G’night, Alice.”

“Night, Logan…”

-

In the morning, you woke up later than usual, no alarm clock or imminent threat looming to pull you from your slumber. It was nice, being able to wake up naturally for the first time in years. You felt so well rested that you nearly forgot where you were. The chill air of the morning surrounded you just outside of the thick blankets and sheets you were under, but it wasn’t unpleasant, it was refreshing. 

When you opened your eyes, you began to recall everything slowly. Sitting up, you find that Logan isn’t in the bed across from you, or in the room at all. You furrow your brow and stand to your feet, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes when a note catches your eye. 

Placed on a tiny table by the janky minifridge, there’s a paper bag and a torn off napkin with some words scribbled on it. 

Be back soon… got you something.

Inside the paper bag was a maple donut. It looked really good, too. Much better than the fifty-cent one you’d traded to him the night before. 

You smiled and took a bite, eating while going about your morning routine, wanting to shower and  get ready to leave the motel. You weren’t sure what Logan was up to, but with him being Canadian and all, you’re sure he’s just happy to be back. 

He knocked on the door, the latch lock seeming to have been flipped over when he left. 

You dropped your change of clothes back onto your bed, running over to the door and letting him in. He seemed to have a relaxed grin on his face, and looking at his clothing, there was a light sheen of icy water coating his leather jacket. 

“C’mere,” he pulled you along, completely barefoot and still in your pajamas. 

Once outside, you saw that the grounds were covered with just a small dusting of snow. It wasn’t thick, or freezing, but it was still falling around you, and you suddenly didn’t mind getting dragged away from the warm room. 

“It’s snowing already?” You asked in confusion, as if he had the answer. 

“It’s Canada, what did you expect?” 

You just continued to enjoy the pretty sights around you, then realized your feet were still bare and you were likely going to make yourself sick if you didn’t go back inside. 

“Let me go shower and we can check out,” you muttered, looking at him and finding he was just as captured by the beauty of a quickly approaching winter wonderland. 

“I’ll make sure the bike is thawed out,” he joked, nodding to you. 

After you went back inside, he walked around to the front to where the bike was parked in the covered area. It wasn’t too cold, but it would still need some time for the metal to heat up. He’d been able to start the motor not too long after, and pulled it around the side of the motel to be closer to where you had stayed. 

He should have knocked before going inside, and he regrets not doing so, but upon opening the door to you half dressed, having yet to pull up your jeans, he seems to be frozen in place. You don’t notice him at first, and with the second glance he gets, he sees all the scars littered over your legs and hips. He remembers the first night when you’d put all the pieces together, knowing you’d met him before. You knew about his past, and he got a peek into yours. You'd told him a man named Stryker gave you those scars.

“Shit, Logan…” You trailed, yanking up your jeans faster and hopping your feet to speed up the process. When you noticed he’d just been standing there you panicked, and nearly fell down trying to get your pants up. “Don’t you knock?”

“I’m sorry,” he blinked himself out of it, furrowing his brow and dripping his eyes. He had to physically shake himself from the trance. “I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine,” you stopped him, grabbing your things and packing them away, sliding your backpack on and walking past him. Your hair was still wet from your shower, but you didn’t want to stay inside and let the moment linger any longer. “Let’s get out of here, we still have a long way to drive.”

-

The hike through the fresh snow had been a little uncomfortable, mostly happening in silence. Since this morning, you’d barely spoken a word to him. You’d ridden miles and miles on the back of the bike without talking. Usually he was the silent type himself, but he’d felt bad for what happened, even after apologizing, so he decided it rested on his shoulders to break the quiet streak.

“I’ve been thinking… those scars,” he tried to broach the subject lightly, looking at you with a careful eye. “You’d said you were bulletproof, and fireproof. I had it in my head that you were impenetrable.”

“I am,” you gave him a flat stare, nodding your head a little.

“Then how were they able to cut you up?” 

Poor phrasing, but he was never one for a gentle touch in his wording. 

“Same way you were able to,” you reminded him, rolling up your sleeve to show where his claw marks had almost completely healed over. “Adamantium.”

“Adamantium? You’re kidding,” he almost found it funny, the irony of it all. He’s the only one who can touch you, but he’s also the only one who can hurt you. “How’d they figure that out?”

You kept on with your trek through the forest, the explanation rolling around in your head before you told him aloud.

“They’d been trying to take me apart for years, and all I’d do is rot in a cell… then they found a mutant called Lava, and she was the only person who could melt the adamantium they’d discovered. I guess they ran out of options with me… so,” you sighed, raising your eyebrows and trying to keep composure while talking about it. Opening up to him did little to help his own memory, but you did so anyway. Because he asked. “They coated a surgical set in adamantium to see what would happen… and it worked. They started taking parts of me wherever I could spare them.”

He had come to a slow stop, but you hadn’t noticed, continuing through the forest on your own, trying to make it to the edge of the lake before it got too dark. You at least wanted to pinpoint the location for tomorrow’s journey through the past. 

You turned around to see him standing dead still, a look on his face the likes of which you couldn’t decipher… What was he thinking behind those pretty eyes? 

“Logan, you okay?” 

He blinked out of his thoughts. You wondered if maybe he was remembering something and you’d stopped him. 

“Yeah, I just,” he shook his head and caught up with you, the solemn look not leaving his face. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

You shrugged, keeping in stride with him, not falling behind or going ahead this time. The conversation helped ease the awkwardness that came before in the silence. “It’s alright. It was a while ago… besides, you were the one who saved me, you don’t need to be the one apologizing.”

The hike kept on in a much more comfortable silence. The sun would be going down soon, and you didn’t want to spend the night out in the woods, especially when it had been starting to snow today. 

When you came across the small stream, leading to the edge of the lake, you picked up speed. 

“Should be right up here,” you told him, leading the way through the mucky ground, moist with melted snow and mud. 

You’d seen it before he did. You stopped in your tracks the second you looked across. 

He caught up, taking a look for himself, but quickly growing concerned with howtense and unmoving you were. Your expression had changed from the relaxed one it had been wearing to a firm yet frightened stare. It was eerily quiet, and you couldn’t move your feet. Your hands balled into fists and one at a time, the memories of this place came rushing back. Just seeing the base, abandoned and covered in rust, was enough to make you want to cry. You felt all the loneliness, all the pain, and all the lost hope that used to plague you in this very place.

“You okay, kid?” Logan came closer, and you nodded, putting on a brave face and turning to him with a forced look of calmness. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you even managed a stiff smile, but you refused to turn back towards the base, letting your shoulder have the pleasure of the view instead. “It’s getting dark, though.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, watching as you were quickly back on the path you came from, trying to keep the composure that you weren’t sure would hold. “Alright.”

He trailed on after you, and just before the sun was all the way below the mountains, you’d managed to get back to the road. The bike was cold again, but thankfully it started without a problem. 

He’d tried too hard to get to a comfortable place with you, but again he felt back at square one, sitting in awkward silence like he did this morning. Your hold on him wasn’t as tight as usual, and you didn’t seem to care how unsteady it was with every turn of the bike. 

You rode down the street about ten miles or so before coming across a small fishing town, with restaurants, bars, neighborhood markets, and even a cozy little motel. Much better looking than the one you’d stayed in the night previous.

He’d been the one to get checked in tonight, getting everything settled and making sure you were comfortable. You still weren’t in a chatty mood, but you’d loosened up just enough to have civil conversation, and answer the questions he would ask you. 

He let you take the first shower tonight, and you were out in only a few minutes, racing to get tucked into bed as quickly as possible. 

He took his time, knowing you were probably just going through the motions of being here, and he needed to let you experience it at your own pace. After all, you remember this place, and he doesn’t. The only thing he recalls are the torturous nightmares that plague his sleep. That alone tells him all he needs to know about the horrors and chaos this place caused.

He’s surprised to find you still awake when he gets out of the shower, towel around his hips and water running over his body. He thought you’d be asleep, so out of habit he didn’t bring his clothes in with him to change. 

He sees you’re reading your book, the one about the future. You’re so engrossed in it, your eyes never leaving the pages. He wonders if it’s a coping tool, a comfort item of sorts. He’d never thought of a book as a security blanket before, being written words on paper.

He didn’t say anything yet, unwilling to interrupt how calm you seemed to be now. Just grabbed his clothes and went back to the bathroom. 

Maybe going back there tomorrow isn’t a good idea. He appreciates the openness of your heart to do such a favor for him, but he doesn't want to cause you distress for his own gain. You’ve shown him where it is. He knows how to find it on his own, now. If he can convince you to stay back here, he’ll go on his own, find the answers himself. 

When he emerges the second time, you’ve laid your book down on the bedside table, placing a bookmark between the worn pages before settling yourself. He sits down on the edge of his own bed, and makes eye contact. You don’t break it first, but you remain silent. A man of few words, but he seemed to be the more chatty one today.

“I didn’t say anything before, but you seemed a little, uh… scared, earlier.”

You didn’t change the expression you wore, but somehow he could feel the shift in your emotions. He just wanted to ask and see if this was too much for you.

“I wasn’t scared, just remembered some stuff is all,” You sighed out, laying down and still looking over at him here and there, but not willing to speak more than what you’d said.

“You wanna talk about it?” 

It was an open offer, but he already knew the answer. For someone who seemed so extroverted and talkative when he met you, you’d somehow turned into a reserved and silent little girl since this morning.

“No…” You trailed, the word coming out soft and gentle.

“Okay,” he nodded, getting comfortable before rolling over and calling out to you as you turned out the light. “Goodnight…”

“Night, Logan.”

-

In the morning, you were already awake, clinging to your knees as you focused very hard on looking out the window by your bed. When he looked at the clock and read six, he figured you must not have slept well. He barely slept most of the time. His regeneration made it easy to stay awake days at a time, and he only needed a few hours to function. Not to mention he was often plagued with nightmares. He hasn’t had them the past few nights, which he finds strange, but at the same time, he isn’t complaining whatsoever. 

He swung his legs out of bed when he saw you were unmoving, just like yesterday at the lake. 

“Hey,” he placed a hand at your shoulder, softly breaking you from your endless stare. “You doin’ alright?” 

“Yeah, I just woke up a little early.”

Your little smile was forced, and he could tell, but didn’t say anything to negate your response. He just sat down beside you on the edge of the bed, looking outside the window where your gaze lingered. There was nothing specific to look at, just a view of the parking lot, and a few trees framed a small log cabin bar next door. 

“I uh… I had an idea last night…” he trailed, gaining your attention as you turned to him. “What if we took a few days.”

“What do you mean?” you furrowed your brows, tilting your head as you laid it on your curled up knees. 

“I mean, what if we don’t go to the base right away?” he suggested with a shrug. It had been a good idea in his head, to straggle behind a few days, and make the journey through the past when you were more settled. “I could tell the way it got to you last night, after you saw it.”

“Logan, I’m fine. Promise,” you nodded your head as if to assure yourself, but even as you were doing it you knew it didn’t look convincing. 

“You weren’t fine,” he corrected, unafraid to voice his concerns by now. “Look, you brought me here, and I’m really grateful… but you were uncomfortable to even look at that place, and I could see that.”

You huffed out a sigh, shaking your head and trying to seem like there was no reason for concern. You didn’t want him to back out after coming all this way just on your account. This was for him, not for you. 

“I’ll be okay,” you put on a more stern face, grabbing his hand. The gesture was more for your own comfort rather than his, but even still, you meant what you said. “I’d spent a long time trying to forget that place, and last night everything just sort of came back… but as long as you’re there, I’ll be okay.”

He listened constantly, the warmth of your touch was always so energizing to him. It made him feel like he was somehow stronger and charged with determination. He figured it had something to do with your mutation, and his ability to survive it. Not just survive, but thrive on it.

“You saved me from Stryker, Logan,” you let your legs fall from their curled position, scooting just a bit closer to him, his eyes never leaving yours, and his hand still lingered around the skin of your own. “I feel safe when I’m with you.”

His chest tightened when he heard those words. He’d realized only now what the professor's words meant a few mornings ago. He recalls exactly how they were said, and why. 

Don’t hurt her, Logan. 

It wasn’t just about the ability to touch, which he would admit was definitely a struggle in itself when he’d thought about how long you’ve been alive, with no one to cling to. Aside from the skin to skin contact, you trusted him. You felt safe in his presence. Most of all, you were doing all of this for him without asking anything in return, and he figured you didn’t even care if you got anything out of it in the long run. 

Charles didn’t want Logan to fall all over you in immediate love and commitment. He just wanted him to take care of you, attend to you and make sure you weren’t without comfort, especially in this terrible place you were headed. 

Her pain will become your own. 

It wasn’t about you becoming vengeful if you got hurt, and it wasn’t about your loved ones making him pay for his actions. He understood that now, too. It was about the guilt and shame he would feel for not having been there to help you should anything happen. Should this very situation happen. He won’t let you go it alone. 

“C’mere,” he sat further back, raising his other arm and beckoning you to sit closer with him. 

You didn’t even hesitate to climb under his wing so to speak, and lean against him as he’d gestured for you to do. He wrapped that arm around you, his head resting over top of your soft and slightly unruly morning hair. His other hand stayed in yours, unbudging for the time you sat there. 

At one point you’d felt so calm you closed your eyes, just absorbing his energy and feeling the comfort from it. It was a rough and hard facade at first, but his energy held layers, and the more you relaxed into him, the better you could feel what lies beneath. You could feel his gentleness, and his soft spirit, willing him to go wherever the wind blows. You could feel the slight sadness and confusion that he seemed to internalize every day. Probably from lacking his past, the memories and the people he used to have before Stryker messed him up. 

“I think taking a few days doesn’t sound so bad, you know?” You said quietly, just loud enough to reach his ears. 

“Yeah?” he smiled, looking down at you when you nodded. Your expression was happier than it had been before, the traces of fear were gone from your eyes. “It’ll be fun. I’ll show you a good time, then maybe you can change your mind about Canada.”

“Unlikely,” you laughed softly, your own smile taking over as you met his eyes. “You’re not so bad, for a Canadian, though.”

“I’ll take what I can get.”

He’d stuck to his word. 

He’d shown you a good time around the small town, though he claims he’s never been there before. All the small business families were very kind and embracing, although it got to a point where talking to them was becoming detrimental to the length of your trip. Everywhere you went into, whether it be a shop, a small town bakery, or even an entertainment hub, there were people recommending things to do and see. And of course, you were not one to say no to an Adventure. 

On the back of the motorcycle, you’d gone practically all over the town, meeting people, and always being introduced the same way by Logan. 

‘I’m Canadian, she’s not… She doesn’t like it here much, I wanna change her mind.’

You laughed almost every time at the way the people would react, but would nod gleefully when they made suggestions on activities. You found yourself liking Canada, but only because Logan was here. He was making you laugh, and smile wider than you think you ever have. Not even three days into this endeavor, and already you’ve decided you’re falling for him. 

You don’t know how deeply he reciprocates those feelings, because he’s a flirt with nearly everyone… but the soft and gentle moments, like this morning, lead you to believe there’s something else there. Some part of him that is drawn to you like you are to him. 

His lingering touch on the small of your back when he opens the door and guides you through, or the arm slung around your shoulder to steer you in a different direction when something interesting catches his eye. Even the way he nonchalantly fixes your hair when he’s talking to you and the wind blows it out of place. It’s all so casual in the way it happens, and yet, it means everything to someone like you. Someone who has lived for two centuries without the normalcy of touch and comfort from another person. 

You try not to focus too much on what it means, and decide to live in the moment to enjoy each time those little touches happen. 

By the end of the day, you think maybe he’s taking you back to the ‘Cozy Pine Tree Inn’ that you were rooming at… but instead he pulls into the parking lot across the sidewalk. 

The half-working neon sign over the porch read ‘Jackalope Neighborhood Pub’ and when you looked inside, there must have been about ten people total, including the two bartenders behind the counter. 

It wasn’t a huge place to begin with, and the population of the town was probably less than the amount of students you had each week, but it was cozy, and you appreciated the warmth of it all, even though it was brutally cold. 

“Go on inside, I gotta put this under that covering in case it snows,” he encouraged, letting you hop off with a spring in your step. 

The inside was just as you thought it would be. Cozy, warm, dimly lit. The walls were covered in old pictures and heads of various hunted animals from up in the mountains. Sitting down at the bar, you shed your jacket and let it hang on the back of your low-back stool, keeping your gloves on for safety.

“Hi there, pretty darlin,” a man came up beside you, a smile on his face and a drunken twinkle in his eye. 

“Hi,” you smiled back kindly, nodding to him.

“Never seen you here before, I guess you’re new,” he came a bit closer, and even though he didn’t try anything yet, it made you nervous when people get this close. Your skin is covered, but it still makes you uneasy.

“I’m just visiting, actually… I live in New York.”

No, you didn’t owe him an explanation, but you felt the only way to keep him at bay would be to answer his curiosities as quickly as you could, not giving him room to think about anything else. 

“Why don’t I buy you a drink? A pretty girl in a place like this needs a drink.”

“I’m okay, but thank you. I’m actually here with someone, he’ll be back in a second,” you spoke quicker when the man took another step beside you, leaning up against the bar now and reaching for your hand. 

“Awe, c’mon… m’sure your buddy won’t mind,” he tried to grab at your forearm in a teasing manner, but you pulled your hands from the counter, pulling your sleeves down to cover the skin of your wrist that your gloves didn’t quite shield.

“Don’t touch me,” you rushed out, a panic beginning to pour over your words. “You could get hurt.”

“I could get hurt, huh? You're gonna hurt me, pretty thing?”

“You don’t understand,” you breathed shallow, trying to keep calm to no avail. “Please, just leave me alone.”

“Baby, I think you want me to stay right here,” he again got closer, trying to cage you in by bringing his arms on both sides of you and trapping your stool in front of him. 

Simply trying to get out of the situation without causing a scene, you leaned forward against the bar, pushing at one arm to try and sneak out… but as it turns out, you didn’t even have to.

Logan pulled the man away by his neck, looking him face to face and giving a harsh but somehow unbothered stare. This man was of no real threat to him, clearly.

“Leave my girl alone…” he let out calmly, though it was filled with threat. You knew he’d only added the possession for effective purposes, but you felt your heart stutter in your chest at the sound of it. 

The man didn’t even speak another word, rushing off to the other side of the bar. He wasn’t a small man by any means, but Logan, standing at six foot two, with a strong build and a deep temperament was sure to scare anyone off. 

Logan sat down at the bar next to you, ordering a beer for himself, and a whiskey for you. He owed you some payback Jack Daniel’s, if he remembers correctly. 

“Thanks,” you threw him a smile and a nod, which he returned. 

“Guy’s a creep,” he let out, his brows raised and an eager look on his face when the beer bottle was set in front of him. “Hope he didn’t ruin Canada for you.”

You laughed for what had to be the hundredth time today, shaking your head. 

“Of course, not. The only thing that could ruin it is what we actually came here to do,” you joked, sipping on your drink as soon as it was put in front of you. 

There was a beat of silence, before a thought that popped into Logan’s mind turned into a question. 

“So, how long have you been at the school?” 

You gave him a glance, tilting your head and trying to think of an answer that made sense.

“Well that depends, do you mean as it is today? Or when it first started?” You found yourself turning towards him more instead of facing the bar.

“Uh, all of it?” 

He took another swig and chuckled at the strangeness of your insistence for elaboration. It was a long and complicated story, but you had to find a simple and short way to explain it.

“Charles found me by cerebro a long time ago, when I was in New York City studying for my history degree,” you took another drink, eyes watching the ice swirl around the bottom of the glass as you tipped it in different directions. “He snatched me up, and a bunch of other mutants, and we saved the world… Which I guess is a typical Tuesday now, but back then it was a big deal for us. The professor had opened the school, but I left right after some of the others did..”

“You left? Why?” His confusion stemmed from what he’s seen. That place was your home, and those people were your family. He doesn’t know why any mutant would want to leave the walls of that mansion, where it was safe.

You shrugged, a bit hesitant to even try and remember what the real reasoning was. “It was the sixties, everyone wanted their own path of freedom. That was the thing back then, wasn't it? Free love, free drugs, free spirits.”

He raised a brow, looking at you with a bit of surprise, which faded just as fast. 

“I keep forgetting how old you are,” he smirked, huffing a small laugh and shaking his head. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were barely an adult.”

You often thought about that. What you would have looked like if you’d been able to grow older. Would your face have thinned out from its girlish fullness? Would you have formed little crows feet at the corners of your eyes? Would you even resemble the same person you’ve looked in the mirror to see for all these years?

“If you want to be technical, I’m physically twenty.”

“Awe, just a baby,” he teased, giving you a slight elbow to the arm. “So is that part of your mutation, then?” 

“No, actually,” you began, throwing back the rest of your drink before explaining further. “The way my body works is like anyone else’s… I have to have energy and sustenance to survive, all that nonsense…”

He’d been very interested to find out about you, since he’d yet to find anything out about himself. Especially since he’d figured your mutation was the reason for your long life span. 

“But since I’m made up of different kinds of energy, matter, antimatter, and a third substance unknown to science yet, I can draw sustenance from things other than food and rest.”

“Like what?” 

You took your little green glove off one hand, and reached for his forearm, which he was currently leaning on against the bar. You focused on doing what you’d done the night that Rogue had injured him, forcing energy into him instead of taking it. 

“You feel that?” 

His eyes got a bit wider, and he watched your hand, there was just the slightest bit of an iridescent glow around his skin where you touched him. It was vague and unnoticeable if you weren’t really looking, and he was. “Yeah…”

“It’s called energy transference. I absorb energy from everything around me, and I can use it to create things… shields, small detonations, and as I recently found out with you, the ability to restore energy from depletion,” you listed, trying to get to the point, but of course, he didn’t understand how it was all connected. 

“And what, it keeps you from aging?” he asked, like it didn’t make any sense, and to be fair, you didn’t really lead with the cause, so you understood his confusion. 

“Not really, no…” you thought back to the day it all happened, so many years ago and yet you’ll never forget it. “When I absorb energy, it sustains me… but when I turned twenty, I was struck by lightning.”

He let out a low whistle, thinking to himself that it was a wild turn of events in your background that he wasn’t expecting. 

“The professor thinks it caused a power surge in my anatomy. Being able to absorb the strike instead of it killing me, my cells were able to store that energy and prevent me from aging.” 

He understood now, blinking a few times as the process settled into his mind. He wonders what else your powers can do, but doesn’t want to keep pushing you on it. 

“Huh,” he looked to the bar for a minute, eyes going over the spot on his arm that still held just the slightest glow of energy without being easily seen. “I don’t really age all that much either…”

“I heard,” you replied, giving him a once over. He was probably one of the most beautiful men you’d ever come across, and knowing that his aging process was also stunted was nearly a blessing in your eyes. 

“I still do, just real slow,” he explained, running a hand through his hair, the kitty ears becoming more prominent when he did. “Guessing by how little I’ve changed in the last fifteen years, I might be close to your age. Maybe a little younger… I just don’t remember.”

His tone falls into a solemness in the end, and you frown at the change in his energy. He’d been having a good time until now, when he started to think about his past, but there was nothing to find. You again reached out for him, taking his hand like you’d grown accustomed to in the past few days. Touching him would never become dull, or feel any less important. You suspected that years from now you would still feel the same tingly and warm sensation from being able to meet his skin to yours.

“You will,” you promised. Even if it takes you a lifetime, you’ll help him find himself. His past, and who he was. 

-

The next day was Sunday, and it went on like the day before… but one thing was different. Two things, technically. 

One, Logan held your hand whenever there was a long distance of walking to be done. Two, his funny and somewhat playful introductions from the day before had been given a small twist. Instead of just saying, ‘I’m Canadian, she’s not,’ there was an added layer of possession. ‘I’m Canadian, my girl isn’t.’

After last night in the bar, something was different. You couldn’t put your finger on what exactly made him switch up his actions around you, and towards you, but it wasn’t in your direct focus. You were much too busy enjoying the sudden change, and the casualness in which it was implemented. 

You wondered if you should ask him about it, but every time you gained an opportunity to do so, you lost the courage. Maybe he was just doing it because it felt normal to be this way with a traveling companion? Maybe he was just putting up a front for the townspeople, so he didn’t have to try so hard to explain the situation between the two of you. 

He’d been so gentle, so domesticated, it felt like he’d grown fully comfortable with you. You’d been the same with him, squeezing his hand whenever he grabbed yours. 

His touch, his words, and more importantly, the look in his eyes whenever he caught you staring… It all led you to believe there was something lurking, just waiting to be let out. 

When you’d returned to the motel that night, giggling about the state of his hair after a tree branch full of snow collapsed on him, he’d rolled his eyes, giving you a playful shove into your own bed while he mumbled about ‘rinsing the pine needles off’ of himself. 

“I’m gonna go down to the Lobby, I wanna call Ororo,” you said, the wide smile still on your face. 

He nodded, not even waiting for you to leave before he started stripping down his clothes. His jacket first, then his flannel. When he was left in the gray beater he wore beneath it all, he stopped for a moment, throwing a glance over his shoulder at you with a smirk. He knew you’d been watching, and he was too big of a tease to tell you to look away, or to remove himself to the bathroom. 

He turned back around, and pulled the thin fabric over his head, throwing it to his pile by the duffel bag. 

He didn’t need to look at you again to know he would catch you staring. He just went about his business as if you weren’t there. Asshole. 

You almost couldn’t breathe. The only person on this entire planet that can touch you, and you got lucky enough that it was Logan. This man was strongly built, and chiseled as if from marble stone. He wasn’t overly muscular or too big, but just enough that you swore God sent him down from the heavens to roam about the earth as his most glorious creation. The way his back muscles tensed when he reached into his bag for a change of clothes, or the way his abs contracted when he stood back upright, it made your hands fidget. You wanted to stand before him and do the one thing you couldn’t do to anyone else. You wanted to touch his gorgeous, warm toned skin. 

When he was about to head to the bathroom, he finally gave you a glance, his smirk even stronger when he read your expression. 

“You gonna go call her or not?” 

“Right,” you blinked, standing up and rushing around to grab your jacket and gloves. 

You’d rushed down to the lobby as fast as your feet could carry you, the stiff breeze doing nothing to quench your excitement. You loaded two quarters into the payphone in the lobby’s hallway, facing away from the stench of the crappy bathrooms nearby. 

You tapped your leg nervously as you told the operator the correct information and waited for Storm to answer. It wasn’t too late, everyone should still be awake. 

The dial went until the second to last before she picked up. 

“Hello?” Her voice sounded like music to your ears. 

“Ro, it’s me,” you said as gently as you could, having to repress your energy. “I just wanted to check in…”

“Check in? Everything is normal here… what about you, have you found the base yet? How’s Logan?” 

Her rushed questions came out when she realized who she was speaking to. She’d waited days for this call, and honestly, you weren’t one to disappoint. 

“We’ve located it, yeah. We’re hiking out there tomorrow,” you explained, leaving out the part where you took a two day joyride through a small Canadian town with the man you’ve deemed is your favorite Canadian. “And Logan’s good. We’ve been having a great time so far.”

“A great time, huh? So I was right to be afraid that I’d never see you again…” she trailed, only partly joking. In truth, she wants you to be happy, but she also wants you to come home. 

“Oh relax, we’ll be back before you know it.”

You heard a muffled yelling, like she’d covered the phone to reprimand some students, before she was back on the line. 

“Well, tell me everything, what’s Canada like? Is it as bad as you remember?” She teased, figuring by the sound of your voice and the smile she could practically hear coming through the phone, that your opinion had been swayed. 

“Canada itself is fine, but Logan is something else entirely,” you raised a brow, leaning into the phone panel on the wall and twisting the cord in your fingers like a love-struck schoolgirl. “Did you know he was Canadian?”

“I thought he might be, wasn't sure.”

“Well, I take back hating Canada, he’s actually made me like it…” you trailed, fighting yet another wide smile from only thoughts of today. “He’s made me like him… a lot.”

“Baby, it’s only been four days,” she laughed on the other end. You could tell she was debating knocking sense into you, or asking for details. The latter won in the end. “So did he kiss you, or what?” 

“No, he hasn’t kissed me,” you said with a sigh, wishing the statement hadn’t been true. “But he’s been so… different. He holds my hand, he hugs me when I’m cold… he’s been introducing me to everyone we talk to as ‘his girl’.” 

“So what I’m hearing is, I need to be making wedding preparations for when you get back?” She huffed out another laugh, hand on her hip as she leaned into a wall in the mansion. She knew this was going to happen. You got attached to people very easily, but Logan was an entirely different can of worms. He could touch you, he could hold you, and he could be with you in ways no one else would ever be able to. That made him your ideal attachment. If you believed in soulmates, you’d say he was yours. Uniquely created with a mutation that matched your own in the opposite form. 

“See, you think that’s funny,” you laughed along with her through the phone, titling your head and speaking with confidence. “But I’m absolutely gonna marry him someday.”

She rolled her eyes, and you could almost hear it through the phone. “As crazy as you sound, I believe you… but give it more than four days to be sure, yeah?”

“Fine… I’ll give it till the end of the trip,” you taunted. You knew it was crazy to be making these bets now, but you were just so certain that this man would be your endgame. He was the only one who could be… right? 

“That’s all I can ask for from you… Just be safe, and tell him I said hi, okay?” She quickly tried to get off the phone, and you could hear the rowdy children making a ruckus in the background of where she was. 

“I will… tell everyone there that I miss them, and I’ll be back soon.”

“Will do, bye baby…” she rushed out her goodbye before the line went dead. 

You smiled, mumbling a small ‘bye’ under your breath as you hung up the phone and headed back for the room. 

The room was a bit steamy when you first walked in, with the bathroom door having been left open to air out. Logan was reclined in the bed furthest to the wall, nothing but flannel bottoms on while he was kicked back and relaxed. He had one arm behind his head, and his other perched at his side to hold up a book in his hand. Your book… the one you’d finished last night. 

“Hey,” he smiled at you as you walked through the door. “Sorry I didn’t ask, it looks interesting.”

You furrowed your brow with your own surprised smile, shaking your head. “No, it’s okay… I think you’ll like it.”

“So far I do… I promise I’ll be careful with it, I know it’s old,” he defended yet again, even though you would give him that precious copy if it made him happy. 

“It’s fine, what’s mine is yours,” you kept on, laying your coat on the back of a chair for the night. “Besides, you can’t do anymore damage to it that I haven’t already done.”

“I noticed you dogear the pages…” he raised a brow in your direction, as if accusing you of something. 

“I know, it’s terrible…” you trailed, sitting on the edge of his bed and watching him for a moment. He went back to the book, completely engrossed in what was probably still the first chapter. “What part are you on?” 

“Burn ‘em to ashes, then burn the ashes,” he remarked, and you nodded. He seemed to be pretty hooked on only the first few pages. “You were right, y’know? About comparin’ this kinda future to ours. It’s nasty stuff…”

“It only gets worse, keep reading.”

You got up, grabbing your clothes and heading for a shower. He had been considerate enough to save plenty of hot water for you.

-

The weekend was over, and unfortunately it was time to go where this entire journey was meant to lead. Stryker’s base. 

The ride to the bridge was silent, but the second you arrived, Logan turned to you with a look of sincerity. 

“Look, I know that you’re doing this for me,” he began, bringing a hand to your arm in the most gentle way possible. “But if you start feelin’ like you did the other day… I have no problem going in on my own, alright?”

“I’ll be okay, Logan. You’re here with me,” you reminded him, placing your hand over his and giving it a squeeze. “Let’s go…”

He nodded, letting you take the lead, because as was made clear before the trip even began, you were the one who remembered this place, and he was the one trying to regain those memories. 

“When did you come here?” He asked, and it was an innocent question except for the implications.

“I didn't come here, I was taken. I'd just passed the bar exam back in New York, and I was gonna be a lawyer for a while, but Stryker got to me first,” You explained, not taking offense to his wording. You’d known he was a little brash with the things he said, but he could also be gentle and sweet.

“How long were you here?” His voice softened this time.

“About six years, got here near the start of the program, lived to the end of it.”

“And what about me?” He’d begun walking side by wide with you, not straggling behind like before. His curiosity wasn’t the only reason for his questioning, but it was a factor. He mostly just wanted to keep you distracted from looming amongst your own thoughts in silence, getting closer and closer to the base. 

“You came towards the end, but he was planning to have you for years. That mutant I told you about, the one who melted the adamantium? They had her powering the machine long before you even came to the island.”

Your explanation caught him off guard a bit. When he’d asked if you came here, you said you were taken, but now you told him he had come… meaning he made the decision to do it.

“And I… came willingly?” He titled his head with furrowed brows, unsure why anyone would want to come to this place, if it was as bad as you say.

“From what I understand, you did at first. I think you ran away when you knew of Stryker's plans,” You reasoned, not completely remembering everything. Not that you were even apart of those dealings in the first place.

“Did I meet you then?”

You smiled and shook your head. You’d wished you’d been able to catch a glimpse of him the first time, what he’d been like before Stryker tortured him and turned him into a piece of metal.

“No, I never met you the first time. But I could feel you,” you tried your best to describe, nearly failing for how little you could actually say instead of showing him.

He seemed to understand it enough, remembering the way your powers work. He came to a halt beside you, giving you a look and asking the next question. “How did I feel?”

You stopped, too. You looked at his eyes now, and they seemed so full of something you couldn’t explain, but couldn’t look away from, either.

“Sad… Angry.”

“And now?” He asked, a serene expression on his features when he was looking at you.

“You’re still tense, but your emotions are softer, calmer.” You raised a hand to his face, trailing slightly over the facial hair that had slightly grown out the last few days. It suited him, you thought.

After a few moments, you felt a shiver run down your spine from the cold, and snapped out of your daze, continuing on the path ahead, and leading him through an old abandoned tunnel. This tunnel was not full of bad memories, but a rather fond one. The day you had escaped, you followed Scott through this tunnel to meet the Professor on the other side.

He seemed to be taking everything in, noting every intricate detail of the place to try and place it. Nothing sprung from the back of his mind, so he doesn’t know if anything significant enough happened here that he might have a cognitive reset, but he keeps trying, going through each stretch of the base like something might pop up.

You froze still when you got to the edge of the cell block. The cages were just as he’d left them, completely and utterly destroyed by his claws. 

“This is it, huh?” He stood still, too. The weight of the area was easy to feel, and though he didn’t know why, he could almost sense the years of heaviness that was caused here. It was haunting.

“This is it,” you huffed, taking a step forward and treating it like you would any other place you visited. It’s just bricks and concrete and steel, it’s not like it should affect you this way. “The cell on the end is mine, the one three or four down was Scott’s.”

There were motion sensors everywhere. Long since forgotten about, and none were activated, but he could also see the security measures, and some of the poking and prodigy tools they must have used just scattered about. The leftover scenery of a hasty escape, by both the mutants and the inhabitants of this place.

“How did you even survive this?” He asked, the weight settling in on his shoulders even more, pushing him into the floor. 

“Most of us didn't. This entire block had new mutants every year. All except me,” you sighed out, running your fingers over the enclosure that you’d been contained in for so long. It was in the past now, and you stood beside the very testament to your escape. The man who freed you and had given you hope. Nothing bad could happen to you here as long as he was with you, now.

“Because you can't die...” He trailed, a single finger of his looming over the exposed skin of your neck. With him being so close, this little action almost seemed normal, but the cold weather made his hands cold, too, and the feeling of it caused a shiver. You stepped away with a shudder under your breath, but turned around and got close enough again to keep the energy from feeling awkward. No matter how cold his hands were, you still liked when he touched you.

“I wanted to. This was the worst part of my life. I never wanted to come back here.”

“Then why did you?” He crossed his arms, leaning against the cell block and leaning in. He knew the answer, or at least he thought he did. Charles made him clearly aware, not that he didn’t know already. 

“I wanna help you,” you looked down, too scared to meet his eyes and say something else besides what you wanted him to hear. “You saved me from this place, the least I can do is help you remember it.”

He nodded, thinking that maybe he was pushing too hard. Maybe he just needed to focus on himself… but something about this place, it made him feel that strange connection to you again. The one that he didn’t think he felt back at X-Manor. 

He took a few steps towards the frozen doors at the end of the block, likely leading into other parts of the base that were inaccessible. 

“How did it happen?” He turned back, wielding a small smirk.

“What?” you furrowed your brows, unsure of what exactly he meant.

“The rescue, how did it happen? Was I heroic?” He posed jokingly, hands on his hips to draw out a laugh from you, and it worked. Even in this place you were scared of, he could make you feel joy. 

“Yeah, you were…” you closed the distance between you, pushing him into position by the doors to reenact the scene. “It was pretty late at night, the sirens started going off, we all started panicking, we thought we were getting attacked or something. Most of us were weak, and could barely stand. My legs were likely broken and definitely cut apart from the tests they'd been doing… We thought it was the end. And then you came charging down the cellblock with this woman,” you sat back into your cell, feeling no semblance of fear from it now. He ran down to your cell with a cheesy grin, playing along for your amusement. “You both started to set everyone free. But you were the one who tore open my cage, and without thinking, I let you help me up…” you trailed, watching as per your story, he reached in and helped you to your feet just like he had done all those years ago. “That was the first time I touched you.”

You kept your hand in his, the tingling sensation still remaining, even though you’ve probably touched him a hundred times by now. 

“Wow… that uh… doesn’t sound like me…” he looked away from you, his hand pulling back and hanging it at his side. He’d broken the charade to think about how inaccurate this all sounded. Even though you were not a liar, and he could take your word for it, he just couldn’t seem to think of himself how you did. “Guess it's just a lot to take in..”

You’d painted him in such a heroic light, he wasn’t sure that heroic was a word that fit him very well, much less at all. All he knew of himself was a selfish loner, who occasionally did the right thing out of obligation and not duty.

“It is… take your time,” you tried your best to reel in the happiness you’d felt, because even though being here with him made you feel better… he was trying to remember himself, and maybe this wasn’t helping. 

“And the woman I was with, did you know her?” 

You hoped he wouldn’t ask about her, you didn’t want to disappoint him.

“I don't remember. She looked familiar, but I couldn't tell you who she was,” you think you saw her with Stryker a few times, but never by his side, always behind him, following orders. “She died not long after the breakout, the professor found her after he’d come back for the remaining survivors...”

He seemed deep in thought, facing the doors of the cellblock again and clenching his fists… was he remembering something?

“And I was with her, this woman?” the way he said it implied the depth of what he was really asking.

“From what I gathered at the time, yeah… but I wasn't in the best condition, so I could have just made it all up in my head. I definitely remember you, though.”

At this he turned back to face you, coming closer and lifting his lips in the very corners to resemble a not quite smile. It still turned your stomach in the best way.

“I'm just unforgettable, huh?” 

“Completely unforgettable. This is a part of my life that I have worked hard and trained myself to forget, but I remembered you instantly…” you confessed, not daring to look away from him now, when he was so clearly latched onto you. It didn’t matter what you said at this point, you were sure he must have known something of your feelings by now.

“Because I could touch you.”

You shook your head. “It was more than that. I'd never seen anything like you before.”

“Is that a good thing?” He teased, his full smile finally returning once the air felt lighter again.

You thought about that day. He’d come running through like a true action hero, saving everyone in his path. He had been here for something else entirely, you think, but he stopped to save you and the others. He’d been wearing a white beater that night, his shoulders glistening with sweat while his hair bounced with every step he took. It was longer then. The determined look in his eyes was something you also noticed, and the way they softened when he steadied you to your feet, touching your skin as no one had for over two hundred years. Yes, seeing him was a very good thing.

“Oh yeah, trust me.”

-

Having searched for other abandoned entry points of the base, and being unsuccessful, you opted to leave, but it had grown dark out, and there was no way you could hike all the way back to the motorcycle before the cold winds set in. It was too dark to even navigate the grounds, anyways. 

It was decided that you could set up a makeshift camp within the escape tunnel, as it was just slightly warmer than the outside. 

Logan didn’t talk much after leaving the base. He’d been all fun and games until he realized you both had finally made it to the place with the answers, but there were none. He didn’t take his frustrations out on you, but he didn’t exactly ignore them, either. In fact, he took to ignoring you instead. You tried striking up a conversation with him, and found he was in too sour a mood, and every comment you made about little things, like the sleeping bag in your backpack, or the water flask kept in his, he seemed to just grunt out a response to get back to the quiet. 

It wasn’t until the dead cold of the night that you’d been shivering your ass off, that you even dared to speak to him again. 

“This storm's getting worse… I'm gonna freeze to death.” 

He rolled over from his sleeping bag on the ground, a slanted brow on his face and a huff when he saw that you were truly cold. He was not in a good mood, and he didn’t want to deal with more bad situations.

“I thought you couldn’t die…” he grumbled, leaning up on one arm. You were curled up into a ball, all your layers on your body and the sleeping bag, but the snow was falling hard and fast outside, probably sealing you both into this icy tunnel. 

“I can't be killed. I can still technically die,” you explained, furthering the lore on your powers. He mentally added it to the list. Almost immortal, but not really so much in snowstorms.

“Then why are you still alive?” He mumbled sarcastically, trying not to be an asshole to the only person he was dependent on the past few days. 

“Because I'm careful.”

You sat up, and in the dim light he could see how pale you’d gotten, your lips a shade of cold purple instead of the soft pink they normally held.

“Aren't you made of energy? Just warm yourself up…” He suggested, as if you hadn’t thought of that. It wasn’t even in your ability wheel.

“I'm made of matter and antimatter, I don't radiate heat,” you argued, trying to maintain a sense of calm while being cold enough to power a refrigerator. 

“Fine, you know what? I'm not walking you back to the bike, just get over here,” he let out, holding open the sleeping bag for you to scoot into. You’d done so as quickly as possible, letting him drop his arm back over you in an instant. Already you could feel the fiery feeling he gave off into the air. 

“How are you so warm?”

“I don't know,” he shook his head, closing his eyes and trying to go to sleep. He wanted to be up with the sun tomorrow, so he could get back to the motel and get some quality rest.

“You don’t know why you feel like a toaster?” You joked with a sweet smile, but were quickly reminded he wasn’t in the mood.

“Do you ever stop talking?” 

“Sorry.”

In truth, he did feel bad about treating you like that. You’d done so much for him, and all he’d done was snap at you when he realized the answers he was looking for were still locked up. He pulled you tighter in his arms, holding you close as if uttering a physical apology. I’m sorry for being a dick, but thank you for being so kind to me anyways.

-

Having found warmth in you, and another feeling that cannot be described outside of perhaps the simple word: safety, Logan slept better than he had in weeks, months, even. Hell, he doesn’t know if he’s ever slept like this, waking up naturally, well rested and without a nightmare in sight. 

It was late in the afternoon, and he woke up feeling a sense of peace that he didn’t go to bed with. He’d been settled. His anger and annoyance about the failed objective made his skin crawl when the snow had been pouring down, the storm covering the ground with several inches of a white, fluffy covering. 

Knowing it had been very late in the night when you finally were able to sleep, he didn’t want to wake you, but being wrapped around you like a cocoon while you slept would make it very hard to even sit up without causing you to stir. 

He figured he could wake you up, now, take you back to the motel so you could finish resting while he took a walk, or visited the bar. It had approached his mind the night before, that he would probably go and get wasted at the establishment to try and fill the void that had been left empty by the lack of answers. 

Slowly, he unraveled the twisted limbs and sleeping bags, hearing your soft grumbling of discomfort when you came to. You weren’t fully awake, and your arms grabbed at him, trying to pull him back in subconsciously while your moaning and groaning persisted. He let out a small chuckle at the actions, like that of a child grabbing for the security of its mother. 

“Rise and shine, princess,” He joked, trying to maneuver himself away. 

You finally remembered where you were, and realized that Logan was the source of warmth that had been keeping you so still and secure. 

“Hey,” you let out with a furrowed brow, wiping over your eyes to try and dull the ache of opening them too soon. “What time is it?” 

“Not sure, it might be noon,” he guessed, standing on his feet and beginning to collect everything that was still scattered about on the ground of the tunnel. 

You were silent for a minute, nodding your head and beginning to become more coherent with every minute passed. You soon joined him on collecting things that needed packing away, but did so with a sentiment passed along. 

“I’m sorry we didn’t find anything here,” you murmured quietly. 

He almost had to do a double take… Why were you apologizing? You’d done him a great service by coming here to try and help him, no matter the results. 

“S’not your fault,” he furrowed his brow in response. “I’m sorry for treating you like shit last night. Just because I’m mad doesn’t mean I have to take it out on you.”

“Don’t be sorry. If I was in your place I’d be angry, too.”

The way you looked at him was astonishing. Like he’d hung every star in the sky. You looked at him and he felt like no matter the atrocities he knows he’s capable of, and the memories he can’t reach, he could do no wrong. Nothing he ever did was bad in your eyes. It was an empowering feeling, but also a curious one. You are far greater of a person than he is, and he knows it… so why do you look at him like this?

The answer is simple, you’re in love with him. He’s the first person you can touch, which is a huge factor, but aside from that, he is kind to you, and genuinely, not just because he has to be.

He remembers what Charles told him before he left. Ask her about a man named Charlie…

“I uh…” he trailed, watching you where you sat, packing away your water flask and flashlight. “I had a talk with the professor before we left a few days ago.”

“About what?” 

“About you, mostly. He told me I was in safe hands,” among other things, but he wouldn’t mention that. “And he told me that when you were ready I could ask you about a man…”

“A man?” You raised your brows in surprise. You weren’t sure if you knew what you were supposed to tell him. 

“Yeah, a man… his name was Charlie?” 

He could see it, the instant the name left his lips. Your face fell and your brain had to work overtime to try and return it to something neutral, and less traumatized. Your silence made him think that maybe he crossed a line. If you hadn’t been ready to talk about this man, then he’d just made a huge mistake. He doesn’t know who this fellow is, but he clearly did something to you. 

“Are you alright?” Logan knelt down, interrupting your blank stare. He could see the memories flashing behind your eyes, the thoughts winding up in your head.

“Yes,” you shook out of it, but your smile didn’t come back. “I’ve been around people that know about him for a long time, I didn’t think I’d ever have to retell the story.”

“You don’t have to,” he shook his head, a hand raising to your arm to try and bring comfort. “I assume it’s a sad story?”

“The worst one I know…” you trailed, finally giving a small quirk of your lip in a smile. Looking at Logan for too long made it impossible to scowl forever. “It’s been a hundred and thirty some years just about.”

He whistled long and low, sitting down across from you to fully pay attention. 

“I started working in a farm house in Virginia in the Eighteen Sixties. I kept to myself as best I could, making beds, doing laundry, washing dishes. Best paying job I’d ever had so I stayed as long as I could…” you trailed, taking a deep breath to introduce the main character of this story. “There was a stable boy there, worked the farm for the family for years before he got promoted to caring for the horses. I hadn’t met him until about two months of being there.”

“He’s Charlie?” Logan lifted a brow inquisitively, fully engrossed in the history you were sharing. You nodded your head to confirm. 

“He’s Charlie. He was only nineteen years old…  he was the only person that I’d barely ever talked to that grew fond of me. I didn’t even have to do anything,” you joked, dipping your head and remembering the way it all went back then. “He used to volunteer to help me hang laundry just so we could talk.”

“Classy guy,” Logan teased, watching your face light up with the way you were recalling everything.

“He was, and so gentlemanly… The day he found out about me being what I am, it was a complete accident. Long story short, I killed a chicken. He took the blame for it, and at the end of the day, the family ate it for dinner.”

“He knew about you?” 

“Mhm,” you nodded, another smile spreading. “He didn’t care. He’d never touched me before, and knowing that he never could… he still didn’t care.”

You sighed, the bliss of the memory fading from view when the next part resurfaced. 

“I fell in love with him, and eventually he asked me to marry him. Obviously, I said yes,” you paused for a moment, heaving a sigh as tears backed your eyes. “The day we left for town to get married, there was an accident… Some drunk men with a gun were messing around like assholes, and one thing led to another. They started firing off rounds in our direction, and I knew I could block the bullets, but I hadn’t told Charlie that. He tried to save me, tried to pull me out of the way…”

You couldn’t even finish the sentence, but Logan already knew. 

“You touched him…” he filled in the blank, watching you blink away the tears that started to fall. Your silent and weak nod was heartbreaking, and in under two seconds flat, Logan had his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close to him to feel comforted. He was the only one who could do this, and after hearing your story of a lost love, he knew how much it meant. 

He is grateful to you and owes you a lot. Being your shoulder to cry on is the least he can do in a situation like this, where you seemed like you just needed someone to hold onto. 

“It’s been a long time,” you mumbled, sniffing to try and block more tears from falling. Being in Logan’s embrace made it better. “I thought he was the love of my life… but I’ve lived so much of my life now without him.”

“I’m sorry,” he ran a hand over your hair, tucking your head under his chin. 

“I just wish he'd been something like you…” 

“Something like me?” He asked, unsure of what you could mean. The way you described him, he seemed perfect. A gentleman, a protector, someone who loved you so much that he was willing to go through life without the most basic of relationship necessities. He didn’t feel like he could compare.

“Immune to my mutation.”

Your clarification made him understand, and maybe he shouldn’t have uttered his next words, but he did, fully knowing the answer.

“I’m guessing no one else has been,” he let out, beginning to loosen his hold on you. 

You’d backed away and looked him in the eyes with your teary, puffy red ones. 

“So far, only you.”

“I’m sorry, that sounds lonely.” His embrace didn’t leave, but he dropped your gaze for a moment to try and think about what that must be like. To not only be without that kind of comfort, but to constantly have to avoid it at all costs. 

“S’not so bad anymore. You’re pretty decent company, and you don’t seem to hate being around me... I’d say I lucked out.” You leaned back into his arms, laying your head on his shoulder this time as you took a deep inhale. The scent of him was intoxicating, and the way he was constantly warm felt like an invitation in itself. 

He didn’t move you, or make you go anywhere. He knew that if he’d been stuck here for days that it would have to be endured for your sake. After hearing of the tragedy in your past, he felt you deserved to sit here in silence, safely and securely wrapped in his strong arms.

-

Tags: @ayamenimthiriel l @levislegislation @reidsworld @melsunshine @clairealeehelsing @fries11 @burkayyy @d3ad2you @insanesosciopath @scream4mami @marifilue

[vevobly]

Yellowjackets Reactions To Your Death! [Peri-Crash] (1)

A/N: Heads up! This is written with you in mind as their romantic partner, but you can always just interpret it as whichever you want. Your death is left unspecified because I want it to be left open for you to decide (when and how). Jackie and Laura Lee didn't die in this just as they originally did in canon early on.

Jackie Taylor:

When you die, Jackie is crushed. The moment you die and leave her, it's as if everything around her just dissolved into nothing. She'd be in denial of it at first, thinking maybe when she sleeps at night and wakes up the next day, she'd find you awake beside her. But it doesn't happen, and the longer Jackie tries to ignore it, the deeper she spirals down.

She wouldn't know how to process any of it, much less cope with the fact that you're no longer around anymore, other than putting up a front with everyone else and pretending she's got everything composed even though she clearly doesn't. When she's all by herself, she'll just break down suddenly and cry; all while holding onto something that once belonged to you.

When Jackie begins accepting that you're really gone, she only sinks deeper. She becomes a mess, barely able to hold herself together. She takes out her feelings on the other yellowjackets, more judgemental and controlling. Doing everything she can to avoid grieving you more. She clings to your belongings, even when they serve no purpose. It's due to this that she becomes distant from the others.

Shauna Shipman:

Shauna's grief is quiet, yet it speaks more volumes than anything. She'd try to rationalize your death as something inevitable, but knowing her, she'd always mourn you even when she thinks like that. Not knowing how to get the pain of losing you out of her, she'd project it outward. She'd keep something of yours—anything that belonged to you once—close to her as a way of coping.

It doesn't matter how or to whom you died, Shauna would be consumed by guilt no matter what. She would just shut down emotionally, and replay the moments she had with you before your death. Second-guessing everything she said or did when you were still around and alive before. She'd wonder endlessly if she could have done something, anything to prevent your death.

Your death would become this silent but omnipresent wound for Shauna because she would constantly just ruminate about the what-ifs, and blame herself for not being able to do anything before your death. It really doesn't help that one of her coping mechanisms to live with the fact that you're dead is just daydreaming that you're still alive and with her.

Taissa Turner:

Taissa would just bury her feelings and emotions, compartmentalizing them to stay focused on keeping the other safe. She'd just double down on tasks, and insist everyone on moving forward. But she can't fool anyone, because it shows. Sometimes, she's just staring blankly at something that reminds her of you or snapping when someone questions her out of nowhere. She's spiraling, she knows.

Losing you would devastate Tai, especially if she felt like she couldn't stop it from happening. She wouldn't be able to let herself grieve you properly at all, and things only get much worse when because of that, it manifests into these nightmares or hallucinations where she sees you alive. She would know that it isn't real, her eyes are just deceiving her. But that wouldn't stop her from wanting it to be real.

Aside from those, Tai would become super focused on survival, almost as a way to honor you somehow. Your death makes her sleepwalking way worse than before because despite being asleep with her subconscious mind being the only thing leading her in her sleep, she's seeking you out unknowingly despite everything else.

Van Palmer:

Van would take your death incredibly hard. And one of the ways she would try coping with your death is just by making some light-hearted jokes. It hurts her to think about you, especially after your death, but it hurts her way even more to not think of you. In some way, she ends up thinking your death was a sign. Maybe even a punishment for something she did, something they've done.

Aside from humor, Van would try her best to deflect anything that involves you. She would avoid places (though it can't be helped that she still would come there from time to time) or objects tied back to you, not wanting to confront her own loss directly. If someone on the team questions her about how she's feeling, she will just brush it off with a strained smile and a weak reassurance in response.

Usually at night, when everyone's asleep and when she's all by herself, Van would talk to you as if you could still hear her. As if you were still alive. And despite how pathetic it may seem, she hopes for some sign that maybe you're watching over her. Whether she was involved fully or not with your death, she would blame herself, somehow ending up thinking that her own survival came at your expense.

Natalie Scatorccio:

Whether she could have done something to prevent your death or not, Natalie would feel overwhelmingly helpless. She would be so angry at everything because of your death. She would blame herself, the crash, and the whole universe for your death. It's because of her grief that she would be a bit reckless and take risks for her survival, almost as if she doesn’t care about dying or not because of it.

Nat after your death would be like a ticking time bomb. You were one of the few things grounding her, and with your death comes the push into self-destruction. During desperate times of need with the team, she'd end up lashing at them. More so to those she blames for your death, whether or not they had anything to do with it.

If she had anything that reminded her of you, you can bet she'd be holding onto it tightly. Maybe even sometimes talk to it as if you were still alive. For a while after your death, she'd be bitter towards everyone before begrudgingly just accepting that you're dead and there's nothing she could have done to prevent it. Nat would put up barriers again between herself and the team, just to isolate herself.

Lottie Matthews:

Lottie would try her damnest to convince herself that your death was part of a larger purpose. Something that the wilderness planned (was it even necessary? why did it have to be you out of everyone else?). She would insist on making the whole team follow a certain ritual or just something—anything—symbolic in your honor. If some of them didn't want to, she would become defensive or more insistent with it.

Whether you actually stayed around to see each of them slowly but surely lose their mind more after your death, Lottie will have this belief where she thinks your spirit is around and lingering with her. And this only worsens when she starts having visions of you that are vivid because she interprets them as signs that you're not truly gone.

It doesn't matter if she actually believes in it herself or not, it comforts her. It gives her a sense of purpose despite your death. While she tries to make it seem like your death was kind of a good thing, she's hurting more than she lets anyone see. When the group starts getting more divided, she unintentionally ends up using your death as something to inspire the rest to actually be a team and work together.

Laura Lee:

She's so torn to the point that she leans into her faith about the man from above and believes that maybe in some way—somehow—your death was something that he had planned. That your death wasn't just something done by the universe to be cruel towards her, make her more miserable than she already is. She would try comforting others about your death, but it would be more like she's comforting herself than them.

Despite her belief, she'd wrestle so hard with guilt about your death; wondering almost endlessly if she could have done something—just anything to save you. Over time, she convinces herself that your death was maybe a test of her own faith in him and so. But just like everyone else in the group, she's spiraling. She's falling apart just like all of them are.

Your death challenges Laura Lee’s faith. She'd begin struggling to reconcile why the man from above would ever allow this to happen. But she’d never admit it, she would never admit her doubts and just keep it all to herself instead. She becomes so focused on praying and just having these memorials for you that she becomes hopeless to the point she starts thinking maybe there isn't any higher being out there in the world, it's all just us people ourselves out here.

Misty Quigley:

Misty copes with her grief about your death by hyper-fixation, unable (she's kind of numb to your death) to move on from it fully and accept that you're no longer around. She'd refuse to let go of anything that belonged to you, keeping those things close to her and constantly talking about you as if you were still alive.

Misty would lash out terribly hard at anyone that tells her to move on, she would go on about how they're being disrespectful of your memory by being like that. To punish them in her head and just to be petty, she ignores them for some time completely when they need her. Only actually getting over it once Nat tells her she's being ridiculous for that.

She throws herself into keeping others alive after your death, claiming it's what you would’ve wanted. But she doesn't know that. She just thinks it's what you would have wanted. At some point after your passing, she'll start telling the others she can feel you and that you're guiding her. But no one really believes her. Things only become worse when she becomes more manipulative, using you basically as a reason to justify her behavior.

[bellaxgiornata]

Can't Run from the Truth

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings/tags: 18+; light angst, embarrassment, confession of feelings, happy ending, a smidgen of fluff and implied smut

Summary: After finishing a hunt, you and the Winchester brothers end up at a local dive bar in an attempt to wind down from the evening, though it doesn't take long for you to quickly find yourself drinking down your feelings while Sam flirts at the bar. But when the truth about your feelings for Sam accidentally comes to light, you panic and find yourself immediately ready to split ways with the brothers.

a/n: I'm back on my Sammy bullshit and couldn't resist a little one shot while I'm working on my series for him (Always Waiting for You). Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you absently spun your partially drunk bottle of beer between your thumb and index finger, your chin resting in your other hand. The growing chatter of the dive bar filled the room around you as your beer sloshed back and forth inside the bottle, your attention only somewhat focused on the way Dean was discussing the hunt you'd all just finished–a poltergeist that had been haunting a young couples’ new home.

Truthfully your attention was elsewhere tonight, keeping you from focusing on anything that Dean was saying as he sat across the sticky, wooden table from you. Vaguely your mind registered the sound of him laughing at one of his own jokes, but you were too busy watching Sam where he sat across the bar drinking down his second beer. You could see the dimples visible in his cheeks as he nodded his head, smiling wide at something the attractive brunette who'd struck up a conversation with him shortly after your arrival had said. You couldn't help but notice how close she was sitting beside him at the bar, either. 

Jealousy flared within you as you watched the pair of them continue to chat. Honestly you couldn't fault the young woman for her obvious attraction to Sam or for the way she was openly flirting with him. You weren't stupid, you knew exactly how handsome he was. It wasn’t as if both brothers didn’t always catch the attention of women whenever you all stopped in a new town. That wasn't exactly new to you.

But you also knew Sam was far more than just his outward appearance. He was an incredibly smart and compassionate man, having a bigger heart than most anyone else you'd ever met. He was selfless and courageous; the amount of times you’d firsthand witnessed him putting someone else’s life before his own had been too many to count at this point. But he was also sensitive, funny, and thoughtful. Whenever life on the road had begun to take its toll on you, Sam was always the first one finding ways to cheer you up over the past few months since you'd joined the brothers hunting. 

As much as you’d hate to admit it, even just to yourself, you'd grown to love all of those traits of his over the time you had gotten to know him. Because inevitably you had gone and developed strong feelings for Sam. Ones you couldn't deny existed any longer even if you constantly did your best to keep them to yourself. Which was why you were currently sitting at the table and sulking on your barstool as you drank down your third beer of the night, your eyes glued to his plaid back. 

It hurt to watch him flirt back with the woman. Every boyish grin he sent her way tore at your heart, and the way her hand often lingered on his shoulder or his thigh when she spoke to him had you gnawing your cheek even more aggressively in an attempt to keep from crying. You wished you had the courage to ever just tell Sam how you felt. Wished he would want to pull you aside after a hunt and smile at you the same way he was smiling at this complete stranger.

Releasing a dejected sigh, your hand abruptly gripped the neck of your beer bottle. Life on the road hunting never really presented the opportunity to have relationships, which was something you knew from your own experience over the past few years. And while you were quite aware of the fact that neither brother seemed too interested in forming serious attachments to anyone because of that, you also knew Sam. You knew it wasn't a secret that he longed for a normal life, one free of hunting. You always quietly wondered if he would ever eventually fall for one of these women he randomly met and occasionally flirted back with in one of these towns. It wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibility after all. Would he ever consider getting serious with one of them?

Something lightly smacked into the beer bottle in your hand, the resounding clink the glass emitted jolting you out of your thoughts. Your eyes flew from the view of Sam's plaid shirt stretched across his broad back and came to land on Dean sitting across from you. There was a knowing albeit annoyed look you didn't quite appreciate drawn across his face.

“Seriously?” he asked, raising a brow at you. 

“What?” you asked him.

Dean shot you a flat look. “Did you hear anything I just said?” he questioned. “Or were you too busy staring at Sammy over there?”

Heat burned your cheeks at Dean's blunt accusation. You were immediately embarrassed that he had somehow noticed what you'd actually been doing while he’d been talking, but you clearly weren't about to admit you had in fact been staring at Sam. Shaking your head gently from where it still rested in the palm of your left hand, your gaze dropped down to where you once more began awkwardly fidgeting with your beer bottle.

“I wasn't staring at him,” you lied. “I'm just spacing out. We were up most of last night researching the case, remember? I'm just tired.”

“Uh huh,” Dean replied. He gestured a hand at your beer bottle as he asked, “Is that why you're drinking so much tonight then? Because I've noticed that you always drink more when someone gets a little flirty with my brother.”

“I do not,” you grumbled, eyes still downcast.

You heard the way Dean shifted in his stool across from you, emitting a noise of disbelief at your response. Out of the corner of your eye you saw him raise his beer to his lips before taking a drink. You kept your eyes averted from his, focusing on the table in the hopes that he couldn’t see the truth written on your face if you didn’t make eye contact with him.

“That's your third beer,” Dean pointed out a moment later, lowering his bottle back to the table. “I know you only have one drink at most after a hunt. But usually you’re the sober one. Now tonight some chick is over there being handsy with my brother, and here you are downing your third beer already.” 

Twirling your beer bottle even more nervously at how observant he was, you heard Dean sigh before he shifted again in the barstool. Leaning forward towards you, he rested his elbows along the table looking anything but ready to drop the topic. Clenching your jaw, you continued to avoid his gaze–though you could certainly feel the way he was staring at you now.

“I see how you are around Sam. It's painfully obvious you like the guy,” Dean continued, his tone far softer. “So why the hell don't you just tell him already?”

“Because I don't like him,” you retorted. 

“Oh come on,” Dean shot back. “You definitely drink more whenever we stop somewhere and some chick flirts with him. It’s happened more than enough times for me to know it isn’t just a coincidence.”

You shrugged weakly, still refusing to meet Dean’s eyes. “Like I said, I’m just tired. And it’s been a long day. That poltergeist did throw a mirror at me. I think that warrants me trying to have a few drinks to unwind for the night.”

Sam had also very meticulously and tenderly cleaned and bandaged the cuts you’d received on your bicep from the glass shattering immediately after the fact. The memory of his gentle, warm hands on your skin as he’d taken care of your wounds after the fact had been worth the injury in the end, but you'd rather face a vampire nest alone than voice that thought aloud. 

“Bullshit,” Dean challenged. “I see the way you smile at him. I see how you sneak looks at him, especially on long drives. The way you laugh at his jokes–which are terrible, by the way. We all know I’m the funny one.”

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head. As Dean continued on, you raised your beer from the table, taking a deep pull off of it as you turned your head over your shoulder and focused on the window to your left. It was getting fairly late now, the nearly full moon hanging low in the night sky. Just across the street you could see the Impala parked out front of the motel the three of you were staying at tonight, the red neon of the bright sign catching your attention.

“He likes you, too, you know,” Dean told you. 

You huffed out an unamused, bitter laugh at the thought. “Now that is some bullshit, Dean,” you muttered, still focused on the motel across the street. “He sees me like you do. As a little sister.”

“Are you kidding me?” he snapped. “Do you not see the way his face lights up whenever you stay up late with him to research a case? Or how excited he gets when you help him search online newspapers for a new job?”

“Because you never want to,” you replied, finally turning your attention to Dean. “I can’t let him be the only one doing all the work when we're on a job. And I’m sure he just appreciates getting the help.”

Dean pulled a face at you, shaking his head. “That’s definitely not it, I think I know my own brother. I mean, the man gets heart eyes when you find us a diner that has avocado toast on the menu.”

“Well we don’t all enjoy eating greasy burgers constantly,” you argued back. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

Across the table from you, Dean’s eyes narrowed. Something smug crossed his features next and you found yourself growing a little more nervous at the sight. You didn’t believe him in the slightest about Sam, but you knew he was far too right about how you felt. And you didn't like that one bit.

“Then what about those times I’ve seen you both share a bed?” he questioned, that smug expression still on his face. “Countless times I’ve woken up to take a piss and I’ve found the pair of you cuddled up together looking rather cozy beneath the sheets.”

Your cheeks burned again as you ducked your head awkwardly, once more avoiding his probing gaze. Truthfully you’d never known what to make of those mornings yourself when you and Sam had woken up in bed wrapped around each other. Usually you both profusely apologized before one of you–usually you–bolted to the bathroom. And then nothing further was ever said after the fact.

“It’s not intentional,” you weakly replied. 

“You know,” Dean began in a cocky tone, “out of all the times I’ve shared a bed with you, we’ve never woken up like that. Pretty sure that says something.”

“No, it doesn’t,” you firmly countered.

“Just admit it already,” he pushed. “Stop trying to deny it. You have feelings for him.”

Eyes snapping shut at his determined persistence, your hand tightened hard around the neck of your beer bottle. You could feel the alcohol in your system beginning to cloud your mind, making you more easily irritated with Dean than you normally would’ve been if he had brought up this subject when you hadn’t already drank so much. 

“At the very least, you can admit it to me,” he continued. “Both of you are so damn stubborn, but I already know–”

“Yes, fine!” you snapped, eyes flying open as you glared across the table at Dean. “If it gets you to finally shut up about it, yes! I like Sam, alright? And I can’t stand watching him flirt with other women whenever we’re out because yeah, I wish it was me instead. So I drink a little extra to try to ignore how much it hurts me. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

You were fuming as you glared at Dean, your jaw clenched tight as he sat there with a self-satisfied grin on his face. The sight of that grin confused you, somehow further growing your irritation at him and this topic. If he'd wanted to get a rise out of you tonight, he’d certainly succeeded.

“What?”

At the sound of the voice coming from just beside you, you abruptly stiffened in your seat. Mouth falling open as your eyes widened in shock, you instantly recognized that voice. Sam was apparently standing beside you and no longer sitting over at the bar, meaning he most likely had overheard what you'd just angrily admitted. Your heart immediately began to race in your chest, your palms beginning to dampen with sweat as embarrassment flooded you.

“Yeah,” Dean said, that amused little grin still on his mouth as his eyes glittered with mischief. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear, actually.” His attention shifted to just over your shoulder, his expression never wavering. “Perfect timing there, too, Sammy. I’m guessing you caught all of that?”

Panic soon mixed with the embarrassment you felt, your body still rigid where you sat in the bar stool. You didn’t dare to look at Sam behind you as the urge to bolt out of the bar hit you strong and hard. 

This whole situation was mortifying. How were you supposed to go back to the motel and sleep in the same room with either of them after that? How were you supposed to share a bed with either of them? Or continue to even work together? It was one thing when you could pretend you were just friends with Sam and he had no clue about your actual feelings, but now that he knew? You felt like you were going to be sick with the way your stomach was twisting and churning.

You needed to get out of the bar. You needed to get away from the Winchesters. Far, far away.

Releasing your death grip on your beer bottle, both of your hands landed down hard on the table. Abruptly you pushed your bar stool back, the legs screeching along the bar floor. That roiling, sick feeling inside your gut only intensified as the seconds passed. As you rose to your unsteady feet, those beers in your system causing the room to spin just a little around you, you caught the way Dean’s expression finally changed. The smug, self-satisfied look shifted to something like concern as his brows drew together.

“What’re you doing?” he asked.

“I need to go,” you blurted.

Grabbing your bag from off of the bar stool beside you, you flung the strap of it over your shoulder. Still avoiding looking at Sam who’d remained entirely silent, you spun on your heel towards the bar’s exit and made your way straight to it. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Dean exclaimed behind you. “Where do you think you're going?”

You didn't respond. Instead, your sluggish and somewhat inebriated mind was quickly trying to piece some sort of escape plan together. Maybe you could call a cab and get a ride to another motel for the night. You could probably book a flight and head out to Bobby’s place tomorrow and get yourself sorted with a vehicle with his help. It wasn’t like you’d needed to hunt with the Winchesters, after all. For now you’d go back to the motel across the street and grab your duffle bag and wait for a car to come pick you up. When you were safely away from the brothers you’d shoot Dean a text to let him know you were planning to do your own thing so he wouldn’t worry–but you weren’t going to mention going to Bobby’s. You didn’t need them showing up there on you.

Pushing the door of the bar open, you exited the building in a hurry, still ignoring the sound of Dean calling after you. The cool air of the late summer night brushed over your cheeks as you briskly made your way towards the street. The bright red neon of the motel sign was like a beacon of safety right now, drawing you towards it and away from Sam and Dean and the disaster that your night had unexpectedly taken. 

It was quieter outside of the bar as you walked, the lack of extra noise allowing the panicked, anxious thoughts in your head to grow even louder. You couldn’t believe Dean had been such an asshole tonight, intentionally goading you into not only admitting you had feelings for his brother, but pushing you into confessing it within earshot of him without you even knowing. He’d ruined everything by doing that. 

And now you were left with no choice but to go back to hunting alone again. Just you by yourself. The thought had tears pricking at your eyes. Ever since you’d decided to work together with the brothers, hunting and living life on the road had been far less lonely, even if you’d had to deal with your one-sided feelings for Sam. But now it would once more just be you again. With no one to watch your back or shoulder the burden of driving. No one to play amusing games of twenty questions on long car rides, to keep you on your toes with ridiculous pranks, or to keep you company as you ate all your meals on the go. No more Sam to shoot you warm smiles that never failed to brighten your day, or to help patch you up whenever you got hurt.

Roughly wiping the back of your hand across your cheeks, you attempted to remove the few tears that had fallen. With a soft sniffle you fought the urge to continue crying down as you approached room number eight, the room the three of you had rented just before heading over to the bar for a few drinks. Unzipping your purse, you stuck your hand inside and dug around, feeling for the room key. It was a moment before your fingers found it and you pulled it out of your bag. 

Quickly unlocking the door, you pushed it open and stepped inside, shutting it behind you a little harder than necessary. Wasting no time, you tossed your room key onto the small, round table positioned next to the outdated and worn armchair in the room before making your way over to your bag where you’d earlier tossed it onto one of the queen beds. Taking a moment to unzip it, you made sure everything you needed was still packed inside. Satisfied that everything was still there, you sat down onto the end of the bed before reaching back into your purse. You pulled out your cell phone and unlocked the screen, but you hadn't even had a chance to search for a local car service before the motel door swung open. 

Head darting over your shoulder at the abrupt noise, you were surprised to find Sam's tall frame filling the doorway. He stood there staring at you for a moment, a hard to read expression on his face as his lips thinned into a straight line. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding under his gaze. You saw Sam's focus shift to your duffle bag where it sat at your side on the bed before his eyes dropped down to the phone in your hands. It looked as if he'd winced before he focused back on you. 

“What’re you doing?” he asked softly.

Swallowing hard, you watched as he entered the room, carefully closing the motel door behind himself and leaving the pair of you very much alone. You could feel your heart beating harder in your chest as he slowly made his way across the room towards you, another pained look on his face when he saw the room key you'd tossed onto the table.

“Are you…leaving?” he asked slowly, his sad eyes meeting yours once more.

Awkwardly biting your bottom lip, not sure you could trust your voice, you nodded. When his expression further fell, you felt like someone had punched you right in the stomach. He looked so unexpectedly hurt at the news.

“Why?” he asked next, voice barely above a whisper. “Why would you leave?”

Silently you watched as Sam lowered himself onto the foot of the bed next to yours. He was looking at you with such raw emotion on his face that it had you feeling tears beginning to well in your own eyes again. You couldn't understand why he looked so upset, which only had you feeling guilty for almost disappearing on them without a word tonight.

Shrugging lightly at his question, your eyes dropped back down to your phone that you were clutching tight in both of your hands. You didn't want to have this conversation, especially not with Sam.

“Because you weren't supposed to hear any of what I’d said to Dean,” you quietly confessed. “And now things are going to be awkward and weird between us.”

“What do you mean?” he pressed. “How would things be awkward and weird?”

“Because I like you!” you blurted, your watery gaze flying towards where he sat on the other bed. The beers you'd drank earlier had fully loosened your tongue, the words easily flowing from your mouth now that Sam had already learned the truth. “And now you know that I don't just see you as a friend or a hunting partner. And I definitely don’t see you like a big brother despite you and Dean seeing me like a little sister. And that’s embarrassing , Sam! You weren't supposed to hear any of that! Now there’s no way that I can just keep traveling with you both. I can't sit in the car with you for hours on end pretending I don’t have feelings anymore. I can’t share a motel room with you, let alone share a bed with you ever again!”

Sam's eyes narrowed, his dark brows furrowing at what you'd said as if he was confused. But just as he'd opened his mouth to say something in response, you barreled on, not giving him the opportunity as the words continued to spill out of you.

“So I'm just going back to hunting alone,” you told him. “I think that's better for everyone. Certainly better than making everyone uncomfortable by continuing to work together. I’d rather go back to being on the road by myself than–”

“Whoa, hang on,” Sam said, raising a hand and finally cutting you off.

You paused, eyeing him nervously as he waved his hand in the space between the pair of you. He was shaking his head, his features tightened together as if he was in thought. 

“So you're what? Just going to run away now?” he asked. “Without even saying anything first? Not even a goodbye or an explanation?”

Your gaze guiltily dropped down to the phone in your hands. “I was going to send a text,” you murmured.

“Did it ever occur to you at any point to hear what I might have to say?” he questioned. “That maybe you might be wrong?”

Pulling a face, you glanced back up at him. He'd leaned closer towards you from his place on the end of the other bed, a softness reflecting in his hazel eyes that you hadn't ever seen before in them. It had your heart nearly skipping in your chest. 

“Wrong about what?” you asked.

A small, unexpected smile pulled at the corner of his lips, something about it seeming almost timid. Your stomach nervously flipped inside of you at the sight of it. Vaguely you wondered what he could have possibly meant, but you remained silent, lost in the tender way he was staring back at you. A way he’d never quite looked at you before.

“That I view you like a little sister,” he answered softly. “Or that things would be weird between us now that I know how you actually feel about me. Wrong about needing to run off and be on your own again because things would be uncomfortable.”

“But Sam–”

“And wrong to think that I don't have feelings for you,” he finished. 

You sucked in a sharp breath at his words, your lips parting in surprise. For a moment you were too shocked to speak, stunned into a brief silence as you studied that unfamiliar look of fondness on his face. It wasn't one you'd seen before. 

“You–you what?” you stammered out.

Sam’s smile widened a little more, the shyness disappearing from his face as he nodded. “I’ve had feelings for you for a while now. Ever since we finished that exorcism out in Georgia.”

Face scrunching up in thought, your attention dropped back down to the phone in your hands as you tried to think back to when you’d all last been in Georgia dealing with a demon. It took you a moment to finally recall the job.

“But that was…months ago,” you said slowly, your eyes once more meeting Sam’s. “About a month after I officially joined you guys on the road back at Bobby’s.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, rising up from his place at the edge of the bed. “Truthfully I’d had a crush on you when we first met in Indiana. During that haunting we all wound up accidentally working together.” 

Sam crossed the small space between the beds before carefully sitting down on the bed beside you. The weight of him dipped the mattress once he sat, causing your body to inevitably slide a little towards him. Heat crept up your neck at his close proximity, aware that his thigh was mere inches from yours now. Trying to keep your breathing even as it started to come in a little shallow, you averted your gaze from his, setting your phone off to the side of yourself.

“I…didn’t know that,” you said.

“I didn’t want you to,” Sam admitted. “Figured I probably wouldn’t be seeing you again after that, even though we’d all exchanged numbers once the job was finished. But then you’d unexpectedly shown up at Bobby’s months later looking for help with a vamp nest. And when we’d officially decided to work together after that job–” Sam shrugged, his shoulder lightly bumping against yours as he did. “Well, I figured it would be easier to work together if I kept my distance.”

“So you mean,” you began slowly, turning your attention back on Sam at your side, “that all this time you’d actually felt the same?”

“Yeah,” he answered.

“But–but what about the women I’ve seen you flirt with?” you asked before you could stop yourself. “The woman at the bar tonight? That waitress the other week in Kentucky? I thought you liked them?”

Sam quirked a brow at you, his head tilting a little to the side as he shot you a questioning look. “What about that guy who bought you a drink last month in Texas? Or the police officer in Montanna who gave you his number? Were you interested in them?”

You frowned at his question, shaking your head. “No,” you told him. “It was just nice to be noticed for once, I guess.”

Sam grinned at you, laughing lightly as he did. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

A silence fell between the pair of you, your mind racing at everything you’d just learned tonight. You hadn’t expected the night to go the way it had, especially with Sam showing up and admitting that he’d also had feelings for you. But as you sat there trying to process everything, you realized he was steadily leaning in closer to you on the bed, his eyes occasionally flickering towards your mouth. Once more you felt your pulse quicken.

“So now what?” you asked him.

“Well,” Sam began in a hushed tone, his eyes once more dropping down towards your lips before meeting your gaze again, “I’m guessing you’re not still planning to run off on your own, are you?”

He leaned in another inch closer and you found yourself struggling to form a coherent thought. Was he doing what you thought he was? Was he going to kiss you?

“No,” you breathed out.

“Then how about tomorrow morning I take you out for coffee?” he suggested. “Before Dean wakes up. Just you and I?”

He’d leaned in even further now, his face so close you were actively refraining from closing the small distance between yourselves and just kissing him. You could feel the soft exhalations of his warm breath brushing over your cheek every time he breathed and it was making you dizzy.

“I’d like that,” you whispered. 

The corners of his mouth curled even higher before his hand rose up, gently grasping your chin with his fingers and carefully tilting your mouth towards his. His nose lightly bumped against the tip of yours and your eyes instinctively closed at the touch. Tongue darting out to nervously lick your lips, you could feel how hard your heart was pounding, feeling as if the organ itself had somehow jumped up into your throat in anticipation of a kiss.

After a moment you were unable to hold back any longer, his warm breath still rhythmically cascading over your skin had already driven you mad with want. Losing the battle against your self-control, you leaned in and finally connected your lips to his. The kiss was somewhat hesitant at first, your mouth moving carefully against his soft lips as if you were unsure of how he’d react at first. But Sam’s mouth responded to yours with such a firm certainty that you soon melted right into him, your body sinking closer to his on the mattress. His fingers quickly released your chin, his hand soon coming to cradle the back of your head as he kissed you more passionately. There was no denying the way he felt about you with the way his lips were moving against yours right now.

Losing yourself in the moment, your hands flew up and latched onto his broad shoulders. Nails digging into his plaid shirt, you drew him closer to the front of yourself as the heat of his body warmed you in more ways than one. He smelled so good–like a mix of leather from the Impala’s seats, a hint of something like cedarwood from his soap, and a bit of gunpowder from earlier’s hunt. You couldn’t seem to get enough of him, your own mouth heatedly matching the pace of his.

Sam’s other hand was soon gripping your hip tight, tugging you towards himself and almost straight into his lap as his tongue slid along your bottom lip. You’d only barely loosed a faint moan against his mouth at the feel of it before he gradually pulled away, breaking the kiss. Chest heaving as you’d tried to catch your breath, your eyelids slowly fluttered open. Sam’s face hovered just before yours, an obvious flush to his cheeks as he grinned back at you. You couldn’t fight back the smile that broke out across your own face at the sight.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he confessed.

“Yeah,” you said, still attempting to catch your breath from your place now halfway in his lap. “Me too.”

“So uh,” Sam began, clearing his throat a little as his hand left its place cradling the back of your head, both of them now gripping your hips firmly in his large palms, “does this mean we always get to share a bed now?”

Nails still digging into his solid shoulders, you shot him a grin. “If you want,” you replied. “But does that also mean it's not weird if we actually cuddle in bed now?”

A wide smile broke out across his face, somehow making him look even more handsome than usual. The sight nearly knocked the breath out of you. 

“Definitely not weird, no,” he answered. 

Easing your grip on his shoulders, you tentatively wrapped your arms around his neck. When he only continued to smile back at you, you relaxed even further against him.

“So…should we head back to the bar?” you reluctantly suggested. “Let Dean know everything is good?”

“Nah,” Sam said, shaking his head. “He'll figure it out. I think I'd rather enjoy the rare alone time we have suddenly found ourselves with.”

Arching a curious brow at him, you watched as a mischievous smile slipped onto his mouth and lit up his face. Without warning, his hands on your hips tugged you forward and entirely onto his lap. A soft, surprised gasp fell out of you as your arms wrapped even tighter around his shoulders, keeping you steady after the abrupt movement.

“What're you up to, Sam Winchester?” you asked, gazing down at him from your place on his lap.

“I guess you'll just have to wait and see,” he said, shooting you a wink. 

A light laugh escaped you before it was quieted by Sam’s mouth once more crashing onto yours. All thoughts of anything but the way Sam’s large hands had begun roaming their way beneath the back of your shirt quickly left your mind.

[staylovesmiley]

Going Dumb~ Chapter 11

₊˚⊹ᰔ Pairing; Kim Seungmin x Fem!reader, Stray kids x Fem!reader

₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ Summary; It had been over a decade since you had last seen each other, having met in choir when Seungmin was living with his grandparents in LA and you with your Aunt. Now that you are both presented adults, how will he handle a change to the reality of you he had made in his mind in your absence over the years?

₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ Notes; This is an omegaverse!AU. in this world when someone reaches puberty they will present with one of three sub genders; alpha, beta, or omega. Due to Alphas and Omegas experiencing rut and heat, some jobs are restrictive as to what sub genders they will hire, specifically singling out omegas as heat suppressants are harder to obtain than rut suppressants. Scent glands are located near the pressure points on the neck and small hormonal patches called scent blockers can be placed over them to reduce or rid an individual of their scent for a period of time depending on the strength of the hormones in the patch.

₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ Warnings; omegaverse!au, beta!kim seungmin, almost all alpha!straykids, female!reader, poly!pack dynamics, angst, mild violence, mentions of sexual harassment/assault and discrimination, smut, enemies to lovers, Kim seungmin is kind of an ass I’m so sorry dandy boy, she/her pronouns used for reader, jealous seungmin, I have only ever wrote one abo story before but it is one of my favorite genres so I hope I can do this justice~

As the sun rose outside, sunlight filtered through the large windows and cast the bedroom in bright hues of orange and yellow. As you stirred from your sleep you felt the arms around you tighten slightly as Seungmin still held you to his chest in a warm embrace. Your tired eyes opened slowly to peer up at his slumbering face, taking in his soft features as his low breathing fanned across your face gently as he slept.

Your body felt incredibly sore, muscles stiff from the way you slept curled up into the beta but you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away just yet, enjoying the feeling of being close to him in this moment. As the events from the night before replayed in your mind you closed your eyes tightly, willing them to go away before you began tearing up again. Chan thinks he made a mistake letting you join their pack and the more you thought about it maybe he was right. Your behavior was reckless and you could have hurt them more than any ignorant photographer’s words could.

You allowed yourself this moment, lying in Seungmin’s arms as you watched him carefully, as you thought of how better off they could be if you weren’t there to cause anymore trouble or stress to their already hectic lives. A single tear slipped down your cheek and you moved as carefully as you could to wipe it away without waking the man in your bed but as hard as you tried, you failed. “Is my face without any makeup that unsettling that it’s making you cry?” He teased, eyes just opening as you swiped away the last traces of the tears from your face. Your eyes stung from all of the crying you had done the night previous and yet you rubbed at them a bit more despite the stinging to get any remains of sleep before sitting up slowly beside the beta.

His arms slowly slid from where they were wrapped around your waist as he too sat up before resting his head atop of your own, hands coming to play mindlessly with your fingers as his thoughts seemed to drift elsewhere. “I think I should go.” You said, your words dry as the almost caught in your throat from the weight behind them. You didn’t want to leave them, the thought alone sending you reeling and wishing to take it back the second the words left your lips but you truly thought that this is what they wanted, what was for the best.

“It’s still early, and we don’t have anything else planned for the day. Why don’t we just stay here a bit and rest?” Seungmin’s voice was soft, the calming scent of fresh linens enveloping you as he clearly didn’t understand what you were trying to say. It wasn’t his fault, you were struggling to fully express the meaning of your words so instead they came out more simple than they were. “No, Minnie….I fucked up- I acted impulsively, I- I beat the shit out of that reporter or whoever he was in front of so many people and that’s going to hurt you guys.” Realization started to dawn on him and his head whipped up to try and meet your gaze but you refused to look at him, eyes downturned on where his hands froze on your own in a tight grip that if it were for the numbness you felt at the situation you would have flinched from the pain in your still bruised knuckles.

The beta shook his head, slowly releasing his hold to cup your face in his warm and slightly clammy hands. “Bunny don’t say that- you can’t leave us. Not now- not over something so silly.” You frowned at that, eyes turning away from him though the hold he had on your face prevented you from fully moving away from him. “Don’t call my feelings silly, Seungmin.” Your words caused him to deflate immediately, still cupping your face in his hands though the hold was much gentler as he pleaded you with his eyes and a soft whimper to look at him. “I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant- I mean Chan was silly, stupid even….idiotic to say those things to you after all you do for us. I don’t know what’s going on in his head, and I don’t mean to defend his actions or his careless words…but I know he didn’t mean them. Something else must be going on….” Seungmin felt his heartbeat racing, the desperation to persuade you to stay by his side burning like a fire in his heart only to be in conflict with the icy grip of his fear that it wouldn’t work and he would lose you forever.

“It isn’t the first time he’s said something like this Minnie. I don’t want to go, that’s the last thing I want but if he thinks I don’t belong- if this keeps happening where I can’t control my impulses and he can’t control his words then we are doomed.” The weight of the reality imbedded in your words hung heavy in the air, causing a silence to fall over the two of you only interrupted by the sounds of the busy streets just outside your hotel room window. “Just- stay with me today. Let me remind you how much you mean to us, please.” He begged, soft brown eyes looking at you like a puppy begging for a bone and who were you to not throw him one. “Fine, okay- I won’t decide just yet.”

Seungmin could have cried at the small relief your words filled him with, immediately pulling you into his embrace until your face was smushed against his chest and you were giggling from the intensity of his hold. “I agree to stay and you try to suffocate me? What is this-“ You said through your laughter, hugging him back just as tight despite your words.

You both stayed like that for a while, holding each other in silence as you listened to his heart beat and tried to commit it to memory should you end up deciding to go after all, the thought still lingering in the back of your mind as doubt hung like heavy rain clouds over the landscape that was your inner self.

Neither of you were sure how much time had past, too content in each others embrace to event think of glancing at the clock on the bedside table. Seungmin lets his eyes fall closed at some point though he was far from asleep. The sweet smell of citrus filled his senses and he was more than basking in it as his nose nuzzled against the top of your head lightly. How could his leader say it was a mistake to have you join their pack? He asked himself that over and over as he tried to find the reason for the alpha’s actions, to try and put himself in his shoes somehow. It wasn’t as if he never felt aggravated with your impulsive nature and tendency to jump into action aggressively without a second thought to the repercussions. Hell, it’s why he himself had been such an ass to you when you’d first arrived on their doorstep.

If anyone could understand Chan’s frustration it should be the beta, but with you wrapped up in his arms, warm breath fanning evenly against his clothed chest, all his past anger or annoyance for you couldn’t even be fathomed. Seungmin wanted to talk to Chan, to get to understand why he would bring up twice now that you were not a good fit for their pack even though from the way the alpha acts around you any other time and from talks he’s overheard their leader having with others regarding you, he knew that was far from the truth of his feelings. He knew there had to be more too it and it was eating him up inside. Still, as badly as he wanted to seek the older out to confront him about the situation from the night previous, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away from your warmth.

What must have been some hours later, a soft knocking sounded at your door causing a little groan to leave the beta’s lips as you pulled away to answer whoever was on the other side. “Minnie, I’ll be right back-“ you could hear him mumbling to himself about how you’d better as he pulled the comforter up and over his head, completely disappearing underneath the plush white duvet.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight, shaking your head in amusement as you stood on the tips of your toes to look through the peep hole at whoever it could be at the door.

To your surprise, and some relief, it was Felix and Jeongin. Without hesitation you swung the door open and looked out into the hall before greeting them. “Lix, innie! Whatcha doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you-“ the alphas laughed at your slightly flustered response, moving past you to enter the room. “Well we wanted to come check on you after last night, make sure you were okay.” Felix spoke up, taking hold of your hands once you closed the door behind them and pulled you closer to give you a look over. “You didn’t need to do that- everything is okay.” Your voice was soft, afraid to speak up too much for fear that the emotions would come bubbling out again.

The youngest hummed softly before wrapping his arms around you from behind, chin resting on the top of your head lightly. “No harm in coming to see you though, right? Maybe we could go get some lunch or order in and play games?” Felix nodded in agreement, his smile bright as he bounced lightly on his heels. “I can hook my switch up to the tv! I made sure to bring the extra controllers-“ At the sound of other voices in the room Seungmin had rose from his hiding spot and made his way into the small living era where the three of you were. “Let’s just order in? I don’t really feel like going out when we have filming all day tomorrow…”

Jeongin and Felix looked between each other, then you and Seungmin, before light smirks played on their lips. “Yeah, that sounds good.” You replied in agreement, giving the three of them a weak smile as you felt deep down you didn’t deserve the kindness or company they offered after the mistakes you seemed to keep making regarding their pack and career. “I’ll go get my switch! You guys know what I like, so just order for me-“ and with that Felix was bolting out the door and down the hall to his own room while the three of you laughed. “And you guys say I’m the puppy-“ Seungmin joked, pulling you away from the maknae and into his own arms once more causing Jeongin to whine.

After Felix returned and food was ordered, the three of you sat and watched with amusement as the blonde struggled to set up the game system to the hotel television. Strings of curses left his lips, his australian accent seemingly getting thicker the more frustrated he became. You were sat on the floor between Jeongin’s legs as the alpha played with your hair absentmindedly while watching his hyung struggling with his mission to connect the switch and tv. Seungmin left his spot on the couch briefly to retrieve the food that was ordered, setting the spread of various dishes on the coffee table in front of you as you found yourself getting lost in your thoughts.

Even though the moment was peaceful, domestic in nature, innocent even, you couldn’t help but repeat the incident from last night over and over. You thought of all you could have done differently, of what you should have done better to not have caused them all so much trouble. It was pointless, you knew that. There was no way to change the past but you still found yourself getting caught in a daydream of if things had happened differently. Subconsciously you began picking at the bandages on your knuckles, the careful work Seungmin had done unraveling slowly just as you felt your position as a member of the pack withering away before you, and no one was to blame but yourself and your actions.

As the beta turned to you, he noticed your bandages coming undone under your nervous picking at the edges and rushed to your side. “Bunny, stop that- you’re gonna cause them to start bleeding again.” He chastised lightly, pulling your hands to him as he carefully readjusting and failing to fix where the adhesive was now loosing its hold on your skin. “I’ll need to rewrap these, wait here-“ But before Seungmin could leave your hand tightened its grip around his wrist. “Minnie-“ Your voice came out more strained than you had intended, causing all three men to rush to your side in an instant. “Bunny, you can talk to us about it you know, you don’t have to bottle it up.” Jeongin spoke softly, his fingers still brushing through your hair and gently scratching at your scalp in a soothing manner.

The sincerity in his voice seemed to break you, tears you fought so hard to hold back spilling freely down your cheeks. “You don’t get it- you weren’t there last night. I seriously messed up, and now I’m not sure if it’s best for you guys that I stay…” The alphas both looked to each other while Seungmin cupped your face in his hands gently. “Bunny, look at me. I don’t have to have been there to know that you did what you felt was right in the moment. No one can fault you for that, even Chan.” You opened your mouth to protest, to explain how serious he seemed and how this wasn’t the first time your place in the pack had been brought into question by the leader, but the beta did not let you. “No. I don’t care what was said, he just needed to let out some steam. He will come to his senses eventually and will realize what he said was a mistake just like last time.”

Felix nodded in agreement, taking your hand into his own. “Trust us, we need you here with us.” You frowned, looking down at your lap as Jeongin spoke up this time, seemingly correcting the older alpha’s words. “We want you here even more, Bunny. What can we do to prove that?” You shook your head, shoulders shrugging slightly as you couldn’t bring yourself to meet any of their eyes. “It wasn’t just Chan….no one else said anything- they all probably agree with him. Like I said- you guys weren’t there…you may even think differently if you had been there to hear what happened.” Seungmin scoffed lightly, shaking his head. “You think we don’t know what happened? Trust me, we know. And we don’t care. You’re better than me cause had the situation been reversed I wouldn’t have left him breathing.”

The beta’s words caused you to giggle, head shaking once more as you cupped his cheek in your palm gently while meeting his gaze with your own. “Minnie, you wouldn’t have. You’ve always been the more gentle out of us. Hell- it’s why you resented me for years.” He couldn’t deny your words, though he wanted to. He knew it was all just wishful thinking and if he had been in your place he would have probably walked away with his metaphorical tail tucked between his legs. “Okay- maybe I wouldn’t have. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have beat the ever loving shit out of him like you did. He deserved it.”

You sighed, pulling away from the group as you slowly stood. “It’s not a good look for you, though. I should have composed myself and handled things better. Chan is right, my actions reflect on you so heavily and you have an image to protect. I wasn’t thinking and acted carelessly. I seem to keep doing that…” The four of you sat in silence for a while after that, before Jeongin spoke up once more. “Everyone makes mistakes…you didn’t exactly have the media training we did before getting thrown into this position. So- sure you’ve had some hiccups. That doesn’t mean you should leave, and that you can’t learn from them-“ his words seemed to warm you slightly, causing you to sit at his side and pull the youngest into a soft embrace. “Thank you, innie…I guess you’re right-“ Felix sat at your other side, Seungmin still on the floor in front of you. “Besides- why should the hyungs be the only ones to get a say? We are all part of this pack, and we don’t want you to go.” The youngest said with a slight pout as he nuzzled into your hair to let your sweet citrusy scent wash over him. “You’re right.”

After a moment, Felix spoke up. “I think you should talk to them. We can tell you how we feel all we want but I think you need to hear from everyone there how they feel.” You looked towards the freckled man with a little uncertainty, doubt still hanging heavy in your mind as to where you stood with the other members. “I don’t know, Lix…what if they just confirm what I’ve already been thinking? That they agree with Chan and they don’t want me here anymore…” three heads shook in unison as suddenly you were pulled into a massive group hug between the three of them. “If they do then we’ll fight them!” Jeongin said with a huff, causing Felix and Seungmin to mumble words in agreement with the maknae. You sighed, decided to let the matter rest for the time being as you tried to enjoy the rest of the afternoon with the three youngest playing games and watching Seungmin and Felix attempt to cheat, much to yours and Jeongin’s chagrin as they failed miserably at doing so.

After the food was eaten and the games long forgotten in favor of a Jurassic Park movie marathon, you sat snuggled up between Vocalracha with Felix on the floor in front of you. Your hands gently carded through the blonde’s hair as your attention floated elsewhere than the movie playing on the screen. If you were to go to the older members about last night, who would be the safest bet? Chan was out of the question, your heart still aching as his words continued to infect your thoughts and poison your emotions. Hyunjin said he was going out for the day the last time you had spoke so he was a no go, and you figured Han and Changbin would be with Chan trying to cram in some production time into their busy schedules. That only left one viable option, and the reality of who it was left you with a pit in your stomach.

The sun was slowly beginning to set, the city nightlife roaring out on the streets below as Jeongin let out a soft yawn to your left. “I think we should call it a night- we have an early day tomorrow.” You said softly as you stood from your spot on the couch, carefully stepping around the alpha sat on the floor. “We?” Seungmin said with hope laced in his expression. “Until I am told otherwise indefinitely, I’m still your assistant- so yes…we.” The three members couldn’t hide the smiles they wore at your words, slowly rising as well and stretching out their stiff limbs. “I guess we’ll see you in the morning then?” Felix questioned, eyebrow raised and he brought you into his arms. “Mhm, I’ll wake you up like normal. Coffee?” The freckled dancer nodded and placed a soft kiss to the top of your head before letting you go to collect his gaming equipment.

Once again you were left alone with the beta as both Jeongin and Felix bid you a goodnight and returned back to their respective rooms. “So, cuddles?” He gave you a soft smile, hand reaching out to intertwine your fingers together before using them to pull you closer and nuzzle up into your side affectionately. “Actually I’ll have to take a raincheck…I think Felix was right.” You didn’t elaborate further, but there was no need as Seungmin simply nodded slowly before pulling back slightly. “Oh- do you want me to go with you or wait here?” You smiled, shaking your head at his kind offer. “No, puppy. Go sleep in your own room tonight I’ll be fine. I’ll wake you up first though if you’d like and you can go with me to get coffees for everyone?” The small pout that had found its way to his face at being told to sleep alone was replaced with a bright smile at the mention of more time just the two of you. “I’ll hold you to that. Please do.” Nodding, you gave him a soft peck on his cheek before heading for the door. “Goodnight Minnie.” As you left you heard him whisper a goodnight as well as he stood a little stunned by the kiss you left him with.

Slowly, you made your way down the hall and to the second oldest’s room. Your heart felt like it was being crushed in a vice grip and the closer you got it was as if you were forgetting how to breathe. All of the fears you held rushing to the forefront of your mind as you tried to think of what to say when you arrived at his door, should he even wish to speak to you. Your feet stopped right outside his door, though your body struggled to make any further moves at alerting the alpha to your presence. What if he scoffed in your face and told you to get lost? What if he was disgusted with how barbaric you had been, how violent you were towards the reporter. What if he was as angry as Chan, telling you that you didn’t belong and he didn’t want you there? All these thoughts and what ifs were playing on repeat as somehow you managed to lift your shaking hand and give a few quick knocks to the door.

“Coming!” You heard his voice call from inside, the door swinging open not long after to reveal Minho dressed in his normal sleepwear with his hair still obviously damn from the shower he must have taken not too long before your arrival. “Bunny-“ before he could say anything more your words began spilling from your mouth like a fire hydrant that had been run over, chaotic and all over the place. “I know you probably don’t really want to see me right now, and honestly I wouldn’t blame you- what I did was awful and I wasn’t thinking and it was so so wrong of me. I just needed to come and apologize to you, I put you in such a bad position- all of you but especially you. Minho I- I understand if you want me to leave you alone, hell if you never want to see me again- but I just had to tell you how sorry I am and if you want me to leave I-“

Before another word could leave your lips the alpha was suddenly smashing his own against them. Both of his hands cupped your face as if you would suddenly disappear, the feeling of his lips against yours was soft but firm as so many emotions were poured into this single gesture. Soon you felt something wet hit your cheeks and it wasn’t until he pulled back to rest his forehead against your own that you realized he was crying. “M-Min?” You stuttered, still a bit dazed from his kiss. “I should be the one apologizing. You- you did what I didn’t have the balls to do. You stood up to that guy and defended me when I should have been the one to defend you.” You opened your mouth to argue but he cut you off before you got the chance. “And I don’t mean that in some stupid alpha dominance way I mean that he wasn’t just insulting me and I couldn’t stand to hear what he was saying about you but I was so caught up with my own public image I didn’t do what I should have done, what you did.”

You blinked up at him, letting his words sink in before crashing your lips back together. Minho accepted the kiss instantly, one arm coming to wrap around your waist as he quickly pulled you back with him into the room and shutting the door behind you only to press you up against the cold surface lightly. Your lips began moving together in almost perfect synchronization, your hands moving to tangle in the hair at the back of his hair causing a slight chill to rush through your body from the dampness that still lingered. In between the kiss Minho began to plead with you, hands now resting gently at your waist though the way he fisted the material of your shirt showed his true desperation.

“Please” kiss “don’t go” kiss “stay” kiss “stay with me” kiss “please”

You couldn’t help but nod as your fingers slipped from his hair to lace together behind his neck as your arms rested against his shoulders. You pulled away hesitantly to look up into his soft brown eyes as the scent of warm caramel filled the room and threatened to intoxicate you. “I’m not going anywhere, I’ll stay.” The alpha could have purred at that moment, leaning down to nuzzle his face into your neck and inhale the sweet smell of of citrus causing you to giggle as his breath tickled lightly. “Stay with me tonight, I mean- please? Just- please don’t go.” You bit your kiss swollen lips, head tilting to the side to allow him to scent you easier to which the alpha let out a small whimpering sound before indulging himself. “I’ll stay, but- I already promised Minnie he could go with me in the morning to get coffee for everyone before the shoot. Just us.”

Minho held back a groan at the thought of you leaving even though it wouldn’t be until morning. “Okay…as long as you’re mine for tonight.” His. The thought caused your chest to feel light and all the worries and what ifs from before fade into obscurity as you melted against him. You tried to tell yourself he didn’t mean it like that, that there was no deeper meaning behind his words despite the passionate kissed you just shared full of what you could only describe as longing. “I’m all yours, Min. But- it’s been a long and emotional day…I’m exhausted.” Without another word you were off your feet, a slight yelp leaving your lips as you held on tightly while the alpha carried you bridal style into the bedroom and laid you gently on the soft duvet and pillows. “Let me finish up the last minute stuff I need to be ready for tomorrow and I’ll join you. For now, try and get some rest.” He placed one last gently kiss to your lips, then your forehead before disappearing into the bathroom.

You helped yourself to snuggling down under the sheets of his bed, indulging yourself in his scent that lingered there from your stay at the hotel thus far and let it soothe you into a peaceful slumber. You didn’t need to worry about what those kisses meant, what he meant, and more importantly what you were going to do in regard to Chan and his harsh words from the night before. All that could be dealt with later, for now you would allow yourself this comfort and to feel at peace even if you knew that you would have to confront these things eventually, maybe even sooner than you would like to. For tonight you were Minho’s and you could allow him to give you that sense of calm even with a storm brewing just outside.

author’s note; waaahhh so I originally planned for there to be scenes with Channie in this chapter but I got to such a nice end here that I decided to save those for the next chapter- pls forgive me I know after the mood board for this chapter came out you were all ready to see that man begging for forgiveness (it will come just wait a lil longer~) anyways hope you all enjoyed this chapter and as always I look forward to reading your feedback/reactions~~ ᕱᕱ₊˚⊹♡

taglist; (pink user means I couldn’t tag) @coastinglove @skzswife @maisyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy @doitforbangchan @chartrucewhore @sebastianswhore13 @finnydraws @bahablastplz @0325tiny @motheraiya55 @confusedabouteverythings @hellevator-143 @ihrtlix @h0rnyp0t @katsukis1wife @emmxxsworld @tenshimara @im-sinking-in-mud @n1nme4r @nightcat101 @chancloud8

[artinvain]

vampire!sevika x witch!reader who runs into you at the library when she’s returning books. (no smut … yet!??!) men and minors dni

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ:

Vampire!sevika who smells you, sickly sweet smell of a bakery, cigarettes and coffee. whose mouth starts to taste metallic. standing there and scenting the air, her eyes scrunched shut so no one sees the whites have turned crimson and her pupils are blown and black.

who tries to smile at you but feels her fangs extending a pain of hunger growing in her so she has to feed before she even comes near you.

vampire!Sevika who ignores all your advances with a smile and flippancy because she’s afraid she’ll hurt you if she gets too close.

vampire!Sevika whose hunting and spots you on a picnic, and has to claim she was hiking because she was caught staring.

vampire!Sevika who has to join you — seeing you alone in the woods too worrisome for her to leave you.

vampire!Sevika who then warms up to the idea of being around tou, not because she was dangerous but because she could protect you from things much worse than her

vampire!Sevika who starts leaving flowers at your work.

vampire!Sevika who is so used to providing she nearly cries when you send her your favourite book you “think you’ll really enjoy. It seems to match your old soul” with a plate of baked cookies on top.

vampire!Sevika who has her team watch out for you (as in stalk you 24 hours and report your movements back to her)

she thinks it’s the way you get to know someone — watch you , learn what you like so that she can anticipate your needs and be a good partner.

vampire!Sevika who thinks she’s ready to have dinner at your place when you offer.

and is stunned to see the sigils and candles, books and herbs inside, crystals lining the walls and refracting light into your living room.

When you stand silently at the door until she asks to be invited in, she’s immediately suspicious.

vampire!Sevika who’s been around long enough to realise you have a cloaking spell rune above your fireplace and knows she fucked.

because she doesn’t know anything about you — all her intel was messed with by your spell.

vampire!sevika who is now an entirely new level of nervous because not only are you intelligent and interesting and funny — you’re also more gorgeous than any face she’s seen in decades. eyes so unwarded and honest, skin soft and dewy. and your hands on hers — god it’s so soft—

and then she realises you’re asking about her daylight ring, you’re very fascinated you know about the type of rock that was used, it’s more popular century, the tiny runes inscribed de dismissed as aging.

vampire!Sevika who doesn’t stay for dinner when she smells your tea, the scent like burning razors in her nostrils. Vervain. A plant near deadly to vampires.

vampire!Sevika who excuses herself saying she has a cold and then receives a care package for her, which makes her realise the cookies you baked didn’t have any vervain in them. So she tries the food and it’s fine. more than fine it’s incredible. It makes her so hungry she has to feed.

vampire!sevika who only feeds on what she declared “scum of the earth,” she didn’t do it often at the risk of being caught but some nights, (like where she sees two men pulling a knife on a woman walking home from work — well with a knife it’s easy to make the deaths look … natural) she’s lucky.

vampire!Sevika who invites you over to her loft, it’s actually more dated than you’d expect. gold-yellow and red lilac and columbine flower wallpaper in the living room’s feature wall. With more modern pops in the furniture and essentials.

“A lot of your stuff is… antique,” you say smiling politely, a furrow in your brow. and Sevika laughs at the way you sit very very carefully on an old chesterfield sofa.

“I’ve reinforced them,” Sevika explains “they are old but, I can’t seem to let them go,”

“Family heirloom?” You guess, a lot of the stuff in here was too fancy to be sold at regular antiques in your area, which meant Sevika was rich, according to her furniture you guessed old money rich.

“that’s insane to have a family tree you can trace so far back you could have your own heirloom”

it was her brothers. they sat on it every night together in his first and only home, and talked in depth about nothing at all.

“My family is close, I am grateful,” Sevika says

the look in your eye. a twinkle of playful curiosity,

“and the ring is an heirloom also?” You ask, standing up to take another look around.

“this stuff if very english — your accent —“

”we moved when I was very little,” she interrupted quickly, that wasn’t entirely false. “I’ve lived here all my life,” that was lie.

you smile at her and quirk your head. she was so… guarded.

“what about your family?” Sevika asks, stepping toward you and guiding you with her hand on your lower back to the sofa. she opens a bottle of wine and pours it for you when she hears you say “salem” and nearly spills. you pretend not to notice and take the glass, thanking her.

“yeah, we fled during the salem trials, there was a much bigger pool of people then, than what’s documented,” you say and Sevika turns to you

”witches then,” Sevika says and lets a giggle slip when you say “of course, have you seen the way I dress?” so wooed by your boldness because yes, she has noticed the way you dress and she thinks you’re some kind of deity, the way your dresses and skirts fall over your thighs, and the way your jean overalls highlights your arms. she’s always mesmerised.

“you are a little whimsical, you sent me the metamorphosis by Franz kafka!” She rolls are eyes at the memory, she was kind of offended when she got it because really? but then when she read it with your note at the end she knew you were referencing yourself, explaining the way your mind works without really having to tell her. So Sevika is gentle with her words around you, makes sure your needs get catered to and makes sure that you always feel secure and loved. 🏷️ @archangeldyke-all @sexysapphicshopowner @iamaboringrattat @sapphicsgirl @sevsbaby @bimboprincezz @opropheticsoul

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

The Agency's Older Brother: or, Ranpo's Character Development

I want to talk about Ranpo and the development he goes through in the series, because for as much as Ranpo is an important member of the Agency, his story is focused on in small chunks that may not always, at first read, seem to be overly significant. In fact, Ranpo’s arc is very consistent and I’m fascinated to know where it’s building to, because he’s done a lot of growing in the series. A lot of the themes of his story are to do with responsibility and faith in others.

The Ranpo we meet at the beginning of the story is not the Ranpo we see now. The biggest change is that he’s a lot more personally involved with the struggles of the Agency members, taking it on himself to be proactive and protective, while previously he had to be pushed and bribed into helping much of the time. When did this change?

Well...

[ID: Two screenshots from a scene in Poe's introductory episode of the Bungou Stray Dogs anime. In the first screenshot, Yosano lies on the carpeted ground, an axe embedded in her chest, blood pooling around her. Ranpo is crouched beside her, supporting her shoulders with one hand and clasping her hand with the other. The second screenshot is a close up of Ranpo's distressed face. End ID.]

The thing is, it's almost easy to overlook the effect this scene had on Ranpo, because Poe’s introductory chapter/episode is such a brief one. Moreover, afterwards, Poe becomes an ally and is a bit of a silly character, so it’s easy to forget sometimes that he was a legitimate threat here - and Yosano nearly died for it. This scene was incredibly significant to Ranpo for a few notable reasons.

It’s the first time someone in the Agency was in serious trouble/died without a backup plan.

It is, unfortunately, kind of on him. (Let me be real clear here: I am not blaming Ranpo. But he probably was blaming himself and that's something to keep in mind.)

To recap: Poe pulls Ranpo into his novel out of revenge, also trapping Yosano, who went with him. Ranpo realizes that they are in a world with no abilities, and importantly, he doesn't have the glasses Fukuzawa gave him.

We know those glasses mean a lot to him. When Ranpo was at his lowest, when he was convinced the world hated him, Fukuzawa gave him those glasses and told him he had a special ability. That he had a gift that no one else did that allowed him to see the truth that no one else could. Untold Origins makes it very clear that if Fukuzawa hadn't reached out to Ranpo when he did, Ranpo may have forever been outcasted. He was a kid kept in a bubble then suddenly and rudely shoved into a world he was unprepared to cope with, where he continued to get rejected and thrown out over and over - and all this on top of the grief he felt from his parents' passing. Ranpo was bitter and terrified of people, and thought everyone was pretending to be oblivious just to hurt him. Fukuzawa saved him the only way he could, in the only way Ranpo would hear him. It's not an exaggeration to say Fukuzawa saved Ranpo's life. And, while cute, it's also telling how quickly those glasses became an intrinsic part of his identity. Only maybe twenty minutes after he first received them, he was already making little doodles of himself wearing them.

Suddenly, the glasses are gone, and Ranpo goes into a funk because he "can't activate his ability without them". Obviously, we know that isn't true, and so does Yosano. Ranpo probably, deep down, knows this too, but to admit that would be to admit the president lied to him, and to uproot the very thing that gave him the means to perceive the world in a brighter light. The reason Fukuzawa had to lie in the first place was because the truth would be to tell Ranpo that his parents lied to him, something he angrily denies could ever be the case. And now, Fukuzawa is very plainly stated to be Ranpo's adoptive father. Ranpo's parents do not lie to him. He does not want to see it - and so he doesn't. This is a recurring thing with Ranpo. For as much as he sees the truth clearly, he also chooses not to see it at times when it would be uncomfortable/go against the intuition of someone he deeply trusts and respects.

And I think it's very easy to just leave it there, and say, "Oh, Ranpo realized at the end of this chapter/episode that he didn't need the glasses, that he doesn't have an ability, and that's a key turning point" but I don't feel that's the full picture or even the focus here, especially since Ranpo still hasn't reached the point where he can properly admit it aloud, even to Yosano.

The thing is, those glasses aren't just of use to Ranpo - they have sentimental value. A heck of a lot of it, for a character who is not very sentimental. The real turning point here is that Ranpo put on Yosano's glasses in order to save her.

[ID: A screenshot of a panel from the Bungou Stray Dogs manga. Ranpo puts on a pair of glasses. His hair is blown out of his face and he wears an intense expression. End ID.]

Shortly before this, we are informed by Yosano that not only was the Agency specifically formed for Ranpo to make use of his talents, but also that it was Ranpo who invited her to join - which we later learn was a pivotal moment for her to start over after she was completely broken by her experiences in the war. And now, he is watching her bleed out because she had to take over. Because he couldn't solve it. And that, to Ranpo, is unacceptable.

But again, there's more to it. Ranpo is fundamentally a self-centered character - this is not a judgement; I actually love that about him. He's the center of the Agency, the (ostensibly) good guys of the series; a narcissistic guy with little in the way of sensitivity who wants to use his skills to help others. Not for some higher ideal, or because it's "right" necessarily, but because he's good at it, and because he's supposed to protect all the "babies" who can't solve things for themselves. I love it because it highlights a major theme of BSD, which is good as something you do rather than something you are, and also because it explains something about Ranpo himself.

See, if everyone in the world is a "baby" who needs Ranpo's assistance, then the people in the Agency are a little different. They're people hand-picked by Fukuzawa to support him, both through praise and through backup. Remember that Ranpo trusts Fukuzawa's judgement more than anything - this means that he expects the Agency members can handle themselves. So, in chapter 10, when Ranpo doesn't really care that Atsushi has been taken, citing that it's a "personal problem" and he should handle it, I really think this was some odd form of "Atsushi will be fine" and "why should I worry or do anything when I know he'll be fine". And in the past, this has been true - the Agency members always pull through. None of them, up until that point, have been in a situation that they couldn't eventually fix. Ranpo has a bubble of safety in the Agency, that basically amounts to a "villain of the week" type beat from his perspective, where troubles gets fixed up pretty quickly. All in a day's work.

But then Yosano dies in Poe's book, someone he actually had some level of responsibility for when he invited her to join his safe little circle in a world that had no place for people like them. And it's a direct result of Ranpo's refusal/inability to act.

In order to fix this, Ranpo uses Yosano's glasses. The lens he's seeing through has changed. The people in the Agency were initially "his" in that they were meant to support Ranpo, the special one "chosen" by Fukuzawa's glasses, the reason for the Agency's existence in the first place. But now the people in the Agency are "his" in that they are his to protect. He's their big brother they all look up to in a way, and as the big brother, he's got to take responsibility for their safety.

Why did this not stand out in the moment? Well, we learn something about Ranpo from Untold Origins: he's very good at pretending he's doing okay and things aren't bothering him as much as they are. He's able to hold it together up until it all comes spilling out of him during the play. Also, I do think Ranpo cares about people a good deal more than he'd have you believe. A common fanon thing about Ranpo (from what I've seen) is that he tends to forget people, which, I can see how one would come to that conclusion, but I actually think it's completely wrong. I don't think Ranpo's forgotten a single person he's accused. I don't think he's forgotten a single person he's helped.

He lied about not remembering Poe, in fact, he remembered him pretty fondly as a real challenge. He remembers the information on a person from the Special Division he was asked to look into and gave the info to Mushitarou to allow him an in. He recognizes an officer he'd helped, and it's implied he recognizes every single officer who had been present while he was working on cases in the past. Does this mean he cares about all of them? ...eh. Probably not. But it does mean that Ranpo keeps a lot of his cards close to his chest. He's disarming with his intentional childishness. And so it can be difficult for the characters and readers both to notice that events like Yosano's almost-death... actually bothered him a lot more than he let on.

Because it was his fault. Because she was his responsibility. Because he's supposed to be invincible.

And unfortunately, the story from here on out does not get any kinder to Ranpo as his safe bubble that is the Agency is repeatedly targeted in ways that are increasingly hard to repair.

Fukuzawa falls ill and nearly dies in Cannibalism arc.

A girl gets blown up and Kunikida ends up in jail because Fyodor managed to manipulate Ranpo's intel.

Mushitarou is believed to have been shot and killed trying to warn Ranpo about the Decay of Angels plan.

Taneda bleeds out from a stab wound and falls into a coma. Ranpo can do nothing but listen and cannot get him help.

The amount of times Ranpo has seen people nearly die in front of him... bro it's almost as bad as Kunikida.

Much like Kunikida having extreme faith in his lofty ideals which make him fall just that much harder when he fails to uphold them, Ranpo has practically zero self-doubt and complete and utter confidence in his abilities... so when problems arise, Ranpo is very harsh on himself. He takes the blame because he's supposed to be better than that. Because he is the one with the powerful "ability" that should never fail.

In this sense, Ranpo's position in the Agency reminds me a lot of a certain person in the Port Mafia, someone who also has a powerful skill he puts towards protecting his own, someone who also received life changing words from the boss which earned him his loyalty, and someone who would do anything to defend the only place in the world he feels secure.

I think there's definitely a reason Cannibalism arc had Ranpo and Chuuya face off, I'm just saying. Both of them ostracized and thrown out as young teens by people who should've been looking out for them. Both the instigators of that arc, proactive and desperate to protect the person they are most loyal to who changed their perspectives. They've even got the same power stance, look. :P

[ID: Two panels from the Bungou Stray Dogs manga. The first is a panel of Ranpo with the silhouette of Fyodor behind him. He is standing with his hands in his pockets, facing front with his head tilted back and to the left a little, a fierce expression on his face and his cloak billowing outwards. The second is a panel of Chuuya standing in a similar manner, arms crossed, facing front with a fierce expression as his coat billows out around him. End ID.]

Of course, there's more interesting comparisons and contrasts to be drawn between them, but I'm focusing on Ranpo in this analysis, so I think I've made my point. Chuuya is the Port Mafia's best martial artist. Ranpo is the Agency's strongest man. And that places a burden of responsibility on them that they both believe they must uphold. They're both ready and willing to do whatever it takes.

The thing is though, is that Ranpo doesn't actually have an ability. When up against someone like Chuuya, he is at a distinct disadvantage, and he knows it. "Regular people can't defeat ability users". But he's still going to come up with a way to do it anyways, and why?

[ID: A screencap from the Bungou Stray Dogs anime. The members of the Agency all stand around Ranpo, who is seated at his desk with a smile, one hand holding his cap, the other held up in a casual gesture. The image is filtered in a soft light. End ID.]

Because his friends think he's invincible.

If Ranpo wants to maintain his safe place in a world of fear, then he has to step up to defend it, and he has to get creative about it. And that's exactly what he does. Ranpo becomes steadily more active throughout the story, which is a huge change from the start, where he had to be practically bribed to help at all. I see a lot of people point out his channeling of Fyodor's tactics to secure Kunikida's release, which is definitely a dark turn for his character, but it's not the only change.

Ranpo is now choosing to place his faith in others, the first obvious instance of this being his use of Poe's novels - which was how he defeated Chuuya. Ranpo knows that he is not going to succeed against people who drastically overpower him all alone, even if he does still take things on as personal burdens. He's also far more obvious about his protectiveness, going on the rescue himself to save the Agency members, driving a car (whereas before he needed someone to take transit with him - another indication of his increased proactivity since he's now literally driving instead of being driven), and bodily shoving Atsushi out of harm's way.

It all culminates in one of my favourite Ranpo scenes where he speaks at the conference to the police, who've worked with him before, where he asks if they will think for themselves - and tells everyone gathered there that anyone can be a detective if they think for themselves and look with their own eyes (!!!). He manages to get half the police force on his side, just through his words and his logic alone! Minoura assumes he somehow knew it would all work out, because, well, it's Ranpo. Ranpo knows everything.

But...

[ID: An image from the Bungou Stray Dogs manga. Ranpo sits in the passenger seat of a car with an honest, helpless smile. End ID.]

He reveals he didn't know if his ploy would work at all. He had to trust that it would with no solid proof. He had to trust these people would use their heads and look beyond the obvious. He respects these people enough that he thinks at least some of them will make the right call.

Fourteen year old Ranpo, bitter and estranged from other people, would never. For him to have come such a long way is testament to the security that the Agency provided him with. In a way, Fukuzawa forming the Agency allowed Ranpo to "complete" his childhood in relative safety, so that when the world became hostile once again and his family destabilized, Ranpo had matured enough to meet it and defend himself and those he has a responsibility towards head on. The Agency is his family, and Ranpo cares for them enough that he puts his faith, not just in them, but in the people they put their faith in too.

[ID: A panel from the Bungou Stray Dogs manga. Ranpo is kneeling in front of Fukuchi, who is sitting backwards on his chair to face him. End ID.]

...aaaaand then Fukuchi went and ruined it. Thanks, Fukuchi.

Ranpo again chooses to put his trust in someone without proof because Fukuzawa trusts him, only for that to have gotten thrown back into his face in the worst way possible. And it's in this regard, the trust aspect, that I think we'll see Ranpo develop as the story goes on.

Will he continue to show this tentative faith in people? Or will he begin to hyper-analyze, unwilling to trust again without proof?

If this arc gets resolved decently well, I think Ranpo will have no issue brushing this off as a one-time thing. However, if what I fear might happen does and Fukuzawa doesn't make it out of this arc... Ranpo will be destabilized.

I don't know that Ranpo would go "bad" per se. He likes the other Agency members. He cares about them - that's genuine. But if Fukuzawa dies, then Ranpo may begin to take darker actions in order to keep them safe, almost overprotective and harshly logical, with little room for blind trust or risks in the name of justice or honour. It may put him at odds with Kunikida, in that Ranpo may start to develop a strong "do what's necessary" mentality, even if that may be immoral. He may regress a little into his old trust issues.

However, I really don't think Ranpo will go too far down the path of darkness, even if the worst should happen. He's a lot tougher than he seems, and he has a good support system in the Agency. I guess it remains to be seen where Ranpo's story takes him next.

Until then...

[ID: A screencap from the Bungo Stray Dogs anime. Ranpo sits in his chair in a cuter art style, having taken a bite from the pastry he has in his left hand. End ID.]

I love one good boy. :)

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

It genuinely keeps me up at night that when Van Eck attempts to reveal to the Merchant Council that Wylan can’t read, they all react exactly as Wylan feared they would. (Spoilers ahead!) Of course since they don’t believe him and Wylan’s brilliant memory for Jesper’s words protects him we don’t see the full force of their response, but it is made PAINFULLY clear that they all would have responded the same way Van Eck did - “How could you say such things about your own blood?”. It’s an incredibly meaningful and arguably subtle detail that Bardugo implements to remind the reader that although Van Eck was our main antagonist in this case, there is no singular villain in this story because what the characters are fighting is an ultimately unbeatable source. The system is impossible to truly defeat because it is a hydra, we see that when Dryden’s father died he took on the role of the Council and acted the exact same way he did, and if Van Eck had raised Wylan to one day take over from him then he too would have been forcibly moulded into that shape by the poisonous environment of this governing body. The defeat of Van Eck, had Kaz not amended his will to name Wylan his inheritor, would have been only that: the downfall of a singular man, to be easily replaced by another with the same dangerously capitalistic values and crude methods of implementing them. It would not have been any change in the system that oppresses the main characters - I think it’s kind of similar to the Hunger Games (spoilers ahead) when Katniss chooses to kill Coin instead of Snow because she realises that killing Snow doesn’t actually change the system if someone else will simply step into his shoes. We also see this reflected in Kaz and his mission to destroy Rollins, since by doing so he too has taken the actions Rollins did. When Inej points out their similarities he denies it, saying “I don’t sell girls, I don’t con helpless kids out of their money”. Inej replies with the gentle, HEARTBREAKING sentence: “Look at the floor of the Crow Club, Kaz”. And this is so important because Kaz has no consideration for what happens to those people once they step outside his door. How do they fair after he scams them? How many of them have had no other money to fall back on? Did one of them sell their daughter to be able to pay off their debts to him? He’d never know, he just had the money and that’s all he thinks about. But if that girl survived long enough to want revenge, who would she blame? Say she didn’t want to blame her parents, like Kaz doesn’t want to blame Jordie, then who becomes the manifestation of all her hatred, the one thing she has decided that destroying will cure her? Kaz does. Just as Rollins has for him.

Every system of this city is a hydra, and there are so many beautifully written reminders of this without forcing it down our throats, but there is also the hope of genuine, real change. In Wylan, joining the Merchant Council as someone opposed to its views, as someone who has lived in both sides of this city and been abused by both of them, as someone who understands that real change is hard to implement. In Inej, as she journeys against the system that abused her not for revenge, but for the protection of all the children who have been hurt and killed, of all the children being hurt and killed, and of all the children who would have been hurt and killed if she didn���t stop the slavers who sought them, as someone who knows that real change is action. In Jesper, as someone raised far from the suffocating closed-minded atmosphere of the Merchant Council and who can support Wylan through it, as someone who knows that striving for real change is messy and chaotic, but that it’s where he thrives. In Matthias, who died believing that the world could truly change, who died believing in Nina, believing in himself, and believing that his death was a necessary sacrifice to real change, even though he wanted it to be peaceful. In Nina, as someone who had learned that real change cannot always be won with violence, as someone who will learn to use her new power to restructure a civilisation, as someone who will spend the rest of her life striving for change because nothing could ever be worse than her beloved having died in vain. And in Kaz, in the small ways, in the fear of what he could become that will hold him back from becoming the next head of the hydra, in his love for Inej shifting his perception of the world, and in his slow journey of healing, maybe one day killing Rollins will be enough. And if that doesn’t work, he’ll burn the world down and start it all again.