#What's going on with the writing since 5.5

[neanmoins-que]

Recent Felis since I resubbed to ffxiv

I dislike him with a passion

[skrunksthatwunk]

thinking about how eiji's a pole vaulter and how ash talks about eiji "flying" and how eiji's associated with bird imagery and how eiji's free (unlike ash) and how eiji comes in on a plane and leaves on a plane and how ash cannot fly, ash cannot be free, how nyc is ash's prison, and how ash is the leopard who dies climbing the mountain, unable to live at such elevation, how he was trying to reach the sky and be free but was always stuck to the earth, how he chose to die instead of climbing back down, how he chose to die where he could see the sky and hope and freedom almost like a bird with eiji's letter right in front of him rather than letting everything go wrong and ruin it once again, how eiji's a failed pole vaulter anyway, how a bad fall ruined his career and grounded him (physically and emotionally), how it took flying to america and meeting ash and needing to save him and skip for him to try flying again, how he landed hard and harsh and still the thought of that escape compelled ash to protect eiji at all costs because if he could fly that means something to him, even if he doesn't think he can fly, how eiji is the manifestation of his hope and how when he breaks and asks eiji to stay with him a while he folds himself over his legs and weighs him down and traps him and grounds him, how ash fights like hell to keep eiji alive not because he thinks he can be like him (hopeful, flying, innocent), but because he makes him forget the gravity of his situation, and so he can see eiji fly again. how he wants to see him escape. how eiji is a bird and ash is a wildcat and how ash never once saw eiji as prey. how eiji never saw ash as a predator. how it is eiji's naivete that first endears ash to him, how it is his freedom and flight and removal from darkness and his ability to leave that darkness that really roots eiji in ash's blood as something essential to him keeping on living in this hell of nyc. how it is that distance from the violence and that hope for the future that ash chooses to surround himself in as he dies. how ash dies in a dream because he feels more than anything that he can't fly like eiji, that he can never leave. how his violence is a part of him and will be forever, how it weighs him down. how he wants to enjoy the view from the mountainside rather than looking up from the ground below. as if they can both fly. as if he is with him up there and not grounded. eye-to-eye with what he can't have, seeing eiji's homeland: the sky. how he dies trying to reach the top because he couldn't take retreating and trying again. how ash, tired and tired and tired and convinced it will go on forever if he crawls back down the mountain, chooses to close his life deluged in eiji, in eiji's insistence that they can fly together, in eiji's hope for him and for them, in eiji's beautiful dream. how ash dies without trying to realize that dream. how ash, in dying, destroys it.

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Sexiest Podcast Character 2024 — Scripted Redemption Bracket — Round 5.5

Propaganda

Madge Stallion (Fawx & Stallion) (Boba Count: 2 and 1 shared):

Madge propaganda from a show that had the pleasure of guesting with her! At the end of the day no matter how you squeeze or present it, a great character is a great character and Madge is the best by a mile. Wonderful one-liners, complex and layered relationships with everyone in the cast around her, a messy and real depiction of female sexuality (especially a lesbian!) that she is never punished or demeaned for, and all of this brought to life in a performance that could make a phone book fun. Look and you’ll see: Madge’s writing and acting speaks for itself!

Madge is literally THE BEST EVER

Antigone Funn (Wooden Overcoats) (Boba Count: 2 and 1 shared):

Amazing character arc/growth; shadows follow her around; afraid of the sun; methanol is her drink of choice; is often told “I thought you were dead” despite a complete lack of evidence other than her deathly paleness; the morgue is her personal sanctuary; absolutely hilarious character; demanded to be co-owner of Funn Funerals with her brother rather than allowing him to continue running the business alone;(spoiler) decided NOT to get with her frenemy who she had been doing a will-they-won’t-they thing with the entire series!; writes smut in her free time

Renée Minkowski (Wolf 359) (Boba Count: 1):

the most badass commander there is. she spent a week hunting a plant monster living on the air ducts of her station with a goddamn harpoon. she managed to keep her people alive and get them home. she managed to keep Eiffel alive for like five years and for that alone she deserves a fucking medal

vote Minkowski. I am not asking. do it.

Minkowski has ALWAYS been great

Art of Madge Stallion and Antigone Funn with thanks to @acornzest.

Additional propaganda below the cut:

Madge Stallion (Fawx & Stallion):

Madge Stallion was submitted without propaganda.

we gotta get our girl some propaganda. she would hate it, but the mystery of it all is kinda part of the appeal here.

Madge stallion NEEDS no propaganda

Madge: so sexy she needs no propaganda

#madge stallion is a great woman to lose to

#Madge she's a sassy lesbian detective what else do you want

#madge stallion needs no propaganda #by virtue of being madge

This is propaganda for all the female characters. Voters please remember how pretty all women are and factor that into every single vote you make. Thank you.

Raging lesbian in a lavender marriage

Seduced someone working for the enemy

Is just as chaotic and at time brain cell-less as her male companions

Loyal but still willing to call her friend since childhood out on his bullshit

She canonically fucks. Like in canon she fucks so much. See above about seducing the enemy and then pepper in her on again off again romance with Martha Hudson.

#madge propaganda time : #she will flirt with basically any girl she sees and oh she does it so well #also !!! she once flirted and got on with technically an enemy in the middle of a spying mission ???? #she went like 'oh sorry just gotta go to the loo' to go spy in the house got caught and flirted so well she 1/ got laid 2/ got information #3/ came back like nothing happened #with some motivation she could flirt and get a boner from a dead rock tbh #madge stallion IS THE SEXIEST

This is the woman who always has anything you might need in her bustle. Portable phonographs, certainly, but what else? Alcohol, without doubt. Knives? Probably. More knives? Wouldn't be surprised. Candy? Always good to have something to mollify Hampton with. More alcohol? Well, James can always do with a little nip. Another knife? Why not? Lockpick set? I mean, where do you keep yours?

Everyone messaging us “please let Madge kiss [redacted]” we will remember your support during this difficult time should this go our way

Antigone Funn (Wooden Overcoats):

#antigone!!!!!!!!! #i just need one chance with her #she's perfect

This is propaganda for all the female characters. Voters please remember how pretty all women are and factor that into every single vote you make. Thank you.

What on earth could possibly be sexier than being presumed dead by the village she lives in at large. She genuinely cares about funerals as an art form, she puts so much care into her work. Possibly bisexual if that helps. Ghost wrote a wildly popular erotic novel with the help of village’s reverend. Come on just please vote for Antigone I’m so very sleepy and I can’t think of more reasons but I promise they’re there

I'm voting for Antigone not because she's sexier (she is) but because she needs at least One Win in her life. #girl failure solidarity

1. she is very sexy. We know she's deathly pale, she's described as transparent more than once as well as green and blue-skinned, she's 35~38 depending on what season you're listening to. She's allergic to like everything.

Her hair is canonically always a mess and she uses it to hold on to bones and things she's gonna need later. She wears the same dress every day (it has a hole in it)

She's one with the shadows and can blend in with her surroundings to a supernatural degree.

2. She is rough and socially inept and artistic and the most passionate person you can imagine. She puts her heart and soul into her work as a mortician, SHE CREATES PERSONALIZED EMBALMING FLUIDS TO MAKE THE CORPSES SMELL NICE and she WILL tell you about it.

She is somehow always angry or flustered about something and she will pull victorian era phrases you cannot imagine. She's been saying Christ Alive since before it was cool.

3. SHE LOVES SEXY THINGS!! she is the most fitting for this tournament cause she's the queen of learning to accept her desires!! She loves old french films and their weirdly shot sex scenes, she's canonically really good at writing erotica and likes to read it too. There's a whole episode dedicated to her conquering her fears and appearing on a naked calendar. Also we hear glimpses of her fantasies and she wants to tie up and dom the guy she likes so there's that too I guess.

She spent 17 years locked in her mortuary cause she was sad. SHE WANTED TO BECOME A CLOWN AS A KID. She is everything to me and I love juno very much but she is sexier and deserves to be known that way. VOTE ANTIGONE

Antigone's mess might be an acquired taste, but I think it's a deeply attractive mess.

SHE WAS IN LOVE WITH A BLOND GUY ONCE SHE EARNED HER REST

Renée Minkowski (Wolf 359):

She did not just spend one week hunting the plant monster, she spent TWO WEEKS hunting the plant monster. Later on, she used the very same harpoon to murder an evil capitalist WHILE SHE HAD A BULLET IN HER CHEST.

She's haunted by the memory of the first time she took a life, and what's sexier than a character with regrets?

She works out. Muscle women. Enough said.

She's devoted to protecting her crew above all else, and despite her self-doubt, she's REALLY damn good at it.

She's a theater kid! She loves musicals! She writes showtunes! Sondheim is her favorite composer!

She Russian-Roulettes a guy into not blowing up her ship, and does such a good job of it that he never even realizes there aren't any bullets in her gun.

She's been trapped in a time loop, possibly multiple times.

She's the best character in all of audio drama, I love her, she's beautiful, she's sexy, and she deserves every vote.

#minkowski my beloved. love of my life. other half of my heart. sexiest woman in podcast ever. i love her

#MINKOWSKI!!!!!! #i love her sooo much fun fact

#my girl! my favorite girl! she won! #let's keep this energy going everyone!

I don't really remember anything about Wolf 359 since I only listened to a few episodes so I'm throwing my lot in with whoever has the most compelling/funniest propaganda. I think this would be funny and I commit to nothing if not the bit

This is propaganda for all the female characters. Voters please remember how pretty all women are and factor that into every single vote you make. Thank you.

But. MINKOWSKI. Please read all that Minkowski propaganda I wrote and then consider voting for her. She's the love of my life and THE sexiest podcast woman, bar none.

Please. I beg of you. Read all the propaganda I wrote, and then vote Minkowski. If you're still not convinced:

She's a first-generation Polish immigrant, and a huge part of her arc is about feeling like she had to hide her identity and prove herself to make it in the US. When she lets her accent slip out in episode 52, it's the sexiest thing to ever happen.

She has the entire rule book for her space mission memorized so she can better take care of her ship.

She talks to ghosts on multiple occasions.

She has a gay little dynamic with the 2024 sexiest podcast character, Isabel Lovelace.

She expertly navigates multiple hostage situations.

Along with musicals, she's ALSO really into Sylvia Plath.

She lives under a rock and does not know anything about pop culture, which is adorable.

She writes show tunes!

[phannie-elvis]

Phannie Census Update #2 (Preliminary Results!)

Phwoah dads, this is another very long one, so summary at the bottom. I'm gonna hand it over to the mod again now *sexy end screen dance*

Hello everyone! (I'm not gonna change color again because of how long this is). I know everyone is excited for results. Unfortunately, for some of the more complicated questions I have, google forms can't do the kind of math I want, so I need to export the data and write a whole bunch of code and stuff. That being said, for a lot of simpler questions, google forms has a little summary with some graphs and stuff, so I thought I would share that now so we can have some results a lot sooner! I'm gonna go through each question on the survey and say what percent each response got (from highest to lowest, followed by write-ins), as well as the response rate for each question and any noteworthy comments I have.

Disclaimer: I'm going to leave the survey open until I export the data for the final analysis, so it's possible that the results of this will change from I state in this post. However, given that the response rate has been slowing down pretty significantly the past couple days I think that nearly all the responses I'm going to get are already in, so this is probably a pretty good reflection of the data.

These are the results as of 6/14 at 7 PM ET. Total responses so far: 1,577!

Do you currently identify as a lesbian? (99.7 % response rate)

71.3% No, 28.7% Yes

Obviously, we're not 100% lesbians, but I still think 28.7% is pretty high! According to a recent Gallup poll, 1.4% of US adults identify as lesbian (I couldn't find any specifically lesbian stats for the whole world), so 28.7% is wayyyyy higher. Even among LGBTQ+ US adults in general, 14.6% identified as lesbian, so we have a greater "density" of lesbians even given that the Dan and Phil audience is largely queer.

2. Have you ever identified as a lesbian? (99.7% response rate)

54.5% Yes, 45.5% No

I was surprised to see this! I think it's really funny, given the stereotype, that the majority of respondents have identified as lesbian at one point in their lives. I guess Dan and Phil really do know us lol.

3. What's your sexual/romantic orientation? (99.6% response rate)

42.2% Bi/Pan/Omni, 40.9% Queer, 34.8% Gay/Lesbian, 29.3% Ace/Aro, 9.6% Demi, 5.5% Straight, 3.04% write-ins

I was expecting this, but I think it's still funny that the smallest percent other than write-ins was straight lol. I do think the fact that this is tumblr, the Gay People Website, might have something to do with that, but I think it still reflects that the Dan and Phil fan base is pretty solidly queer. (Side note: I can't determine what percent of respondents were LGBTQ+ from the google form, since I can't combine the sexuality and gender data, but I can do that for my final results).

4. What's your gender? (98.5% response rate)

50.8% Woman, 16.7% A different kind of nonbinary (specify in other), 15.5% Genderfluid, 15.3% Man, 13.8% Agender, 5% Demigirl, 3.2% Demiboy, 2.5% Bigender/Polygender, 2.4% Genderqueer (write-in), 0.8% Intersex, ?% other write-ins

I can't do the math for the rest of the write-ins because the google form is being weird, but they were mostly some form of "just nonbinary", not sure/questioning, or transmasc. I think it's funny we have more nonbinary and genderfluid respondents than men respondets. In addition to being a very queer phandom, we're also very genderqueer and I love that for us.

5. What's your gender identity? (98.5% response rate)

48.3% Cisgender, 41.1% Nonbinary, 27.4% Transgender, 0.6% Intersex, 3.6% write-ins

Most of the write-ins were people who were still questioning their gender or didn't feel a connection to gender at all. Again, I think it's funny less than half of respondents are cis. We're really such a queer and trans phandom.

6. What was your assigned gender at birth? (98.9% response rate)

96.1% Female, 2.4% Prefer not to say, 0.4% Actually my doctor was super cool and didn't assign me a gender against my will, 0.4% Male, 0.7% write-ins

I was expecting a pretty high majority female, but 96.1% still surprised me lol. I guess the stereotype that ten years ago all dan and Phil fans were "obsessed teenage girls" (or at least teenage girls) does hold some weight. The write-ins were mostly people saying that they weren't a phannie 10 years ago or they weren't a phannie until after they transitioned.

7. What's your race/ethnicity? (99.6% response rate)

85.2% White, 10.3% Hispanic, 7.3% Asian/South Asian, 2.5% Black, 1.7% Middle Eastern, 1.1% Native American, American Indian, or Alaska Native, 0.5% Native Hawaiian or Other Pacific Islander, 2.6% write-ins

I was expecting a pretty high percent white and wasn't too surprised by this, but I was hoping for a little more diversity. The write-ins were all pretty different, although some form of Jewish and different versions of mixed did appear somewhat often.

8. What's your age? (95.2% response rate)

Unfortunately after about a third of the results came in, google stopped showing me the frequency of each response and just listed the responses. Some people gave a range instead, so I don't have precise numbers to do math with, but the range for people who provided a precise number is 12 to 50 years old. When I could see the frequency, 23 and 25 were in a tight race for the most popular response, but that might've changed. I'll be able to find the average once I do my complicated analysis. (Also, I had multiple responses for each decade between 12 and 50 so we have a pretty decent spread in ages, even if most people are likely in their twenties/thirties!)

9. Which continent are you from? (99.1% response rate)

56% North America, 29.9% Europe, 5.9% Australia, 3.3% Asia, 3.1% South America, 1.5% Oceania/Zealandia, 0.3% Africa, 0.1% Antarctica

Unfortunately the Oceania/Zealandia was not there for the first several hundred respondents, so sorry to anyone who wanted to pick that option but couldn't! (The US education system failed me). These results are pretty much what I was expecting. One person said they were from Antarctica. I don't know if they were kidding or if maybe they're a researcher who lives in Antarctica (in which case, cool!)

10. Which country are you from? (96.0% response rate)

49.9% United States, 13.7% United Kingdom, 5.5% Australia, 5.3% Canada, 4.2% Germany (These are the top 5, I can't list every country because there are simply too many). Here is a graph to try to show you how many responses I got, even though the key doesn't fit in frame lol.

Although about half the pie graph is the U.S., there are so so many responses, which I love. There are phannies all over the world! I can't reliably see all the countries listed right now (I have to hover my mouse over each 0.1% of the pie chart to try to read it), but when I can see some, I've seen countries all over the world (which makes sense given the previous question). Sincere apologies to anyone whose country was not listed. I couldn't offer a write-in option in the drop-down and it was hard to find a list of countries that included everything, given how politically contentious the recognition of countries can be. (This list came from Encyclopedia Brittanica in case anyone was curious).

Fun fact: That top 5 list is very similar to the top 5 countries viewers are from on the AmazingPhil Video Trivia page in tabinof (which is U.S., U.K., Canada, Australia, Germany). His page lists the top 10, but I can't read that pie chart well enough to compare past Germany lol.

11. Which of the 4 Gs of the Dan and Phil demographic are you? (99.8% response rate)

87.4% Gays, 84.6% Geeks, 64.1% Girlies, 37.9% Goths, 0.7% None actually, 2.6% write-ins

Hilarious to me that only 0.7% selected "none”. Dan really clocked us with that one. Most of the write-ins are people who are not sure if emo/punk counts as goth (I feel like yes in this case, since Dan and Phil fans are more stereotypically emo but Dan wanted something that started with a G), people who said they were formerly a category (usually girlie), or people who weren't sure if they qualified for a category or not.

Fun fact: These results are pretty close to the results @a-human-beann got when they conducted a poll about the 4 Gs in May. Although the way the question was programmed led to different interpretations of the percentages, the most popular response was still Gays, followed closely by Geeks, then Girlies, then Goths, just like here.

12. Did Dan make you trans/question your gender? (99.4% response rate)

34.7% No, I questioned my gender all on my own (or something else made me I guess), 27.5% No, I've always been sure I'm cis, 14.3% No I made myself trans (or something else did I guess), 14% Yes, he made me question my gender, 5.5% Yes, he made me trans, 4% write-ins

I was a little surprised by this one. I know realistically that Dan isn't "making" anyone trans, I just thought more people would pick it to be funny, but (based on the write-ins) people were actually interpreting the question as who inspired the start to their exploration of gender, which is actually far more interesting so that's cool. The write-ins had a lot of different answers, mostly giving some but not all credit to Dan (and/or Phil).

13. What year did you join the phandom? (99.6% response rate)

14.0% 2014, 13.5% 2015, 10.5% 2013, 10.9% 2012, 10.7% 2016 (These are the top 5, there were responses for every year since 2009). Here is the chart if you want to see about how popular a specific year was. 2009 is the dark blue slice after the white gap, then they go clockwise in order. The slice before the white gap is "I have so little memory of it, I can't even guess).

This is pretty in line with what I was expecting, peak joining around tatinof and the British vlogger boom. 10.9% of respondents joined during the hiatus (or at the very beginning of Back from the Dead, since I did 2019-2023), and 8.6% joined after the hiatus (2024-2025).

14. At this exact moment in time, are you a dannie or a phillie? (99.4% response rate)

36.2% I literally couldn't decide with a gun pointed to my head, 35% Dannie, 28.8% Phillie

This one surprised me again (I feel like I say that almost every question lol). I was really expecting Phillies to be the majority given the prevailing "Phil is a precious baby angel who must be protected" sentiment that the phandom tends to have lol. However, after reading the nuance question (coming up), I realized that people interpret the question differently which could affect responses to this one (I'll discuss that later). It's also a pretty even split between all three categories, even though there were more dannies than phillies. Early on, it switched a couple times between whether there were more dannies or phillies but it's pretty stable now given the sample size.

15. When you first joined the phandom, were you a dannie or a phillie? (99.4% response rate)

66.9% Dannie, 17.5% Phillie, 15.6% I literally couldn't decide with a gun pointed to my head

I was expecting Dan to have the majority here, but that's still quite a large majority. This makes sense given that he has more subscribers (and had more subscribers around the time most of us joined the phandom). I do love that "I literally couldn't decide with a gun pointed to my head" has gone from the least popular option for when people joined to the most popular option today. Here's the graph to compare to the last question.

16. Are you a dannie or a phillie? (with nuance) (41.9% response rate)

I don't have any stats here, since they are all long responses, but I'm planning on making a word cloud or something for the final results. While reading, I realized that there are different interpretations of what constitutes a dannie vs. phillie. Some people think the question basically means who do you like more, while some interpret it more as who do you relate to more (or some mix between them). I wonder if this could help explain the general "we must protect Phil"/"he can do no wrong" type of thing we've got going on, despite the fact that apparently more respondents are dannies. Based on the written responses I've seen (which, again, have not been scientifically analyzed at all), I think that a lot of people relate to Dan and therefore really appreciate how great Phil is. Maybe there's also still some remnants of Phil's old branding as the "innocent one" that make us want to protect him, idk. I'd be interested in asking who do you like more vs. who do you relate to more separately in the future.

17. Are you some kind of mentally ill/neurodivergent? (99.6% response rate)

59.0% Yes (and diagnosed), 28.3% Yes (but not diagnosed), 6.1% Not sure, 4.1% No (and I was never assessed), 0.4% No (but I was assessed), 1.9% write-ins

Honestly, I'm just gonna stop writing that I was surprised, because I feel like it's getting annoying. Assume I was surprised unless I state otherwise lol. (I was expecting that we would have a high percentage of yeses, but this many specifically is what surprised me). 87.3% of respondents answered some form of yes. Good thing Dan's here to cure all of us (Boom, Mr. Beast). Most write-ins were people saying yes/probably but clarifying stages of diagnosis and some people said they used to have a diagnosis like depression or anxiety, but they're better now! (Congrats!)

18. Specifically, are you autistic? (99.6% response rate)

27.1% Yes (but not diagnosed), 26.2% No (and I was never assessed), 20.7% Yes (and diagnosed), 20.5% Not sure, 2.0% No (but I was assessed), 3.5% write-ins

47.8% answered some form of yes. I realized that people who have Dan and Phil as a special interest are probably more likely to be on phannie tumblr and more likely to find this survey, but I do still think that stereotype that a lot of phannies are autistic does have some basis. It's estimated that 1% of the world population is autistic (from the World Health Organization), so 47.8% is definitely way higher (which would suggest phannies are more likely to be autistic than the general population, but again this was not a perfect sample collection so I can't say for sure) (I think if we could say that, a likely explanation would just be that the phandom is pretty accepting of neurodivergence, especially autism, which could attract autistic fans or encourage phannies to explore their own neurodivergence more). Write-ins were mostly people who were basically self-diagnosed but felt the need to present their case because they weren't sure (which I think is hilarious because that seems like a pretty autistic thing to do lol (I would do the exact same thing lol)). Here's the chart so you can see how close to 50% the yeses are and also so you can see how many people gave write-ins clarifying lol (I blocked out the write-ins it showed in the key).

19. If you identify as transmasc, do you consider Dan or Phil to be gender goals? (97.7% response rate)

61.8% I'm not transmasc, 14.3% Dan, 12.3% Both, 6.2% Neither, 1.4% Phil, 4% write-ins

This one wasn't surprising (I've just heard a lot of people say Dan which is why I asked the question). A lot of write-ins specified that they weren't transmasc but still considered one/both of them to be gender goals (which makes me realize I could've worded that question better). A lot of write-ins also specified a specific era that they considered gender goals.

20. What's your political orientation? (98.2% response rate)

72.3% Strongly left, 20.3% Moderately left, 3.7% I don't really think about politics, 1.4% Center, 0.3% Strongly right, 0.2% Moderately right, 1.8% write-ins

This one didn't really surprise me. I was expecting a strong majority strongly left, given how much they speak up about political issues (particularly Dan). Although I was a little surprised to see any right-leaning at all, especially strongly right, but that's literally 7 people out of the whole 1,577 responses so far. Also, a lot of people in the write-ins couldn't remember which was left and which was right or said it worked differently in their country (they usually then explained their politics and ended up meaning some form of "left") (there's a chance the people who picked right got them mixed up as well, but it's so little that maybe there really are some strong right-leaning Dan and Phil fans somehow). A lot of write-ins also said anarchy/fuck politics/they don't believe in politics.

21. Which is better, phyuri or phaoi? (98.3% response rate)

36.6% How dare you ask me to pick one?, 31.4% Phaoi, 21.2% Phyuri, 8.6% I don't know what we're talking about, 2.2% write-ins

I didn't have any expectations for this one, although personally I am a phyuri lover myself. Most write-ins were either saying they were neutral about it or didn't like either because they don't like shipping real people.

22. Are you a furry? (99.3% response rate)

75.4% No, 18.1% I dabble, but wouldn't call myself a full furry, 4.6% Yes, 1.9% write-ins

I wasn't surprised by this one at first because I had no frame of reference for what percent of the general population are furries, and I was just expecting most people to say no (but quite a few to be somewhere in between which is why I added the I dabble option). However, I just googled it and according to a survey from 2011 furries estimated that roughly between 0.02% and 0.04% of the population are furries, so 4.6% yeses (not even including write-ins or the I dabble option) is wayyy higher. This being on tumblr probably has something to do with that, but I also think all of Dan's furry references have probably helped people find the furry community more easily.

23. Do you think Sister Daniel is hot? (99.0% response rate)

80.3% Yes, 8.1% No, 6.3% I'm too confused to tell, 6.3% write-ins

This is pretty much what I was expecting (a resounding yes). Most of the write-ins were people clarifying that while they personally were not attracted to her (usually because they were ace), they acknowledged that she was still objectively hot.

Summary:

While not every phannie identifies as a lesbian, around 28% of respondents do and around 54% have at one point in their lives, which is way higher than the percent of lesbians in the U.S. population. The respondents were overwhelmingly queer (only 5.5% identified as straight) and way more likely to be some sort of genderqueer compared to the general population (more nonbinary and genderfluid respondents than men respondents, only around 48% of respondents identified as cis). 96% of respondents were assigned female at birth, so there is some truth to the stereotypical view of phannies 10 years ago. The large majority of respondents were white or mixed race including white (around 85%). Google Forms hates me, so I couldn't get good stats on the ages yet, but 20s and 30s appear to be the most common ages (23 and 25 were the most common responses before it stopped letting me see the frequency of each response), and the ages ranged from 12 to 50. About half of respondents were from the U.S. followed by around 14% from the U.K., but there were responses from literally too many countries for me to count on the pie chart and responses from every continent (which is super cool!). Out of the 4 Gs, the most popular was the Gays (87%) followed by the Geeks (85%), then Girlies (64%), then Goths (38%), and only 0.7% of respondents selected "None, actually", so Dan really clocked us with that one. Most people actually say Dan didn't make them trans/question their gender (even most trans people said no), which I was a little surprised by, but it is just a joke, so that makes sense. The most common years to join the phandom were around tatinof and the Great British vlogger boom (2012-2016), but there were responses every year since 2009 to 2025. Right now, people are pretty evenly split between whether they're dannies, phillies, or can't decide (with can't decide being in the lead, followed by dannie, then phillie). However, about 2/3 of respondents said they were dannies when they first joined the phandom. For the long response nuance question, I discovered there's lots of way of interpreting what makes someone a dannie vs. a phillie. A large majority of respondents were some kind of mentally ill/neurodivergent (87% combining diagnosed and undiagnosed), with 48% being autistic (combining diagnosed and undiagnosed). Most respondents were not transmasc, but for those who were, most consider Dan to be gender goals (14% of respondents), followed by Both (12%), Neither (6%), and then Phil (1%). Respondents were overwhelmingly likely to identify as being politically left (72% strongly left and 20% moderately left), but a small percentage identified with the right (0.5%). Most people couldn't pick between phyuri and phaoi, but phaoi did get more votes than phyuri (31% vs. 21%). Most respondets (75%) were not furries, but 18% dabble and 5% said yes, which is much higher than estimates for the general population. Finally, 80% of respondents agree that Sister Daniel is hot (with only 8% saying No).

Again, HUGE thank you to everyone who took the survey!!! I can’t believe the response rates are so high for every question!! Over half of the questions had above a 99% and every question (other than the long response nuance question which people didn’t answer if they didn’t have nuance lol) had above a 95%! This has been so much fun to analyze, and I can't wait to get started on my full analysis. Also, thank you so so much to the people who have said nice things about how the survey was well-made/fun to take, it really makes me so happy to see!

Next week: I'm planning on sharing my favorite write-in responses for each question! Dan and Phil are right, we really are funnier than them, so I want to share some of the responses that made me laugh. They'll all still be kept anonymous (I don't even have a way of finding who wrote them), and I'm not going to share anything that I think could be personal, just things that made me laugh. (If you have a response that was funny but you don't want shared for whatever reason, DM me or send an anonymous ask with what it was and I'll make sure not to include it!)

Athankyouverymuch everyone!

[starsinthesky5]

quarterback || joe burrow x reader

description: joe is back to doing what he does best, and you cannot get enough of it ;)

a/n: seeing him back out there is a literal dream!! here’s a little something inspired by all the football content we’ve gotten over the past month 🤍 and good lord he looks FINE as hell.

fair warning, i struggled to write a part of the smut (wink wink) so i really hope it isn’t too cringe because it took me a second to write that

warnings: language, smut

word count: 5.5 k

—————————————————————

The sound of Joe’s alarm blared throughout your bedroom early Monday morning, causing you to turn over and pull your covers over your head. It was currently 6 AM, meaning it was too early for anything. You let out a little whine as you felt Joe’s arms snake around your waist and pull your back into his chest. You lifted the gray comforter off your head and turned your head to face him. You were met with his gentle eyes and messy bedhead, looking absolutely precious this early in the morning.

“Joee, it’s early,” you whined. He moved the covers down a little more so that your shoulder was uncovered, pressing light kisses to the soft skin.

“It’s Monday,” he said in between kisses. You were a little dazed and rubbed your eyes to snap the drowsiness out of you, realizing that it was in fact Monday meaning today was Joe’s long-awaited return to being a quarterback. 

You turned around onto your side to face him and took a long look at him, taking in every little detail. He was now lying on his stomach, his muscular back on display along with his messy hair. “Back to football,” you smile lazily while raking your hand through his hair, which he had been growing out since the start of the year. It was one of the few changes to his appearance, and you were loving it. It was getting longer in the back and the front, almost mullet-like (similar to what he had in college), but you didn’t say that to him because you didn’t want to jinx it. 

You loved Joe’s hair. You loved it at the beginning of the past season even though it ended up looking like a wet mop by the end of the game, and you loved his hair during the end of the season as well, referring to it as ‘prince hair’. This hair might just be your favorite, referring to it as ‘prince hair volume 2’. You loved when he grew his dirty blonde hair out, partly because you loved running your fingers through the strands, but mostly because you loved playing with it during sex. 

“Back to football,” he sighs, the smile on his face fading. 

“Not excited?” You question. 

“Oh, I am, 100%. I miss being out there,” he says as he slides his hand gently across your shoulder. 

“Then why do you not look excited?” You softly ask.

“Nerves,” he responds, turning his face into the pillow to hide his telltale eyes. His eyes could always tell you the emotion he was feeling at the moment, thus the reason why he was trying not to let you see. There was no way you were going to let him get in his head again. He’d already done that enough at the end of the last season into the beginning of the off-season and it did not do anyone any good. 

“Joseph Lee Burrow,” you begin to lecture. 

“Uh oh, full government name never means anything good,” he jokes. 

“You have absolutely no reason to be nervous. You have worked your ass off to get better these past few months. I’ve seen it, the public has seen it, the fucking aliens have seen it,” you lecture as you hear a soft laugh come from his lips. 

“You came back from what could’ve been a career-ending injury and have killed it in rehab and recovery. You were ahead of all their timetables, no surprise there, but you did that all on your own,” you add, moving your hand to his bare back, sliding it down his muscular frame. 

“I’m just nervous about really getting back into it, you know?” He says as he takes his head out of the pillow. “I know I’m better for the most part and I’ve been throwing for a little over a month, but getting back out there with the guys means it’s time to face reality,” he says. 

You stay silent as you let him vent to you, which you had ensured he did while he was injured. “I just don’t want things to go south again, this season means a lot. I know what everyone’s been saying and I’ll be playing with a chip on my shoulder. I just don’t wanna lose it,” he says, referring to his reputation, accomplishments, and goals. 

“You’re not going to lose it, Joe. If anything, the public and the league will lose their minds over how fucking amazing you are after such a devastating setback. You’re going to kill it today, the next day, and every day after that. Now you know that you need to listen to your body more and not push yourself, which will make a huge difference in how you feel,” you smile. 

“I’ve seen you throw and in my unprofessional opinion, it doesn’t look like anything even happened. The team is ready for you, I mean you have 2 giants that are going to be on both sides of you and a whole new class of rookies that I’m sure are ecstatic to be around you,” you giggle. 

“It’s time to be quarterback again. You’re ready, trust me, Remember that you are Joe Fucking Burrow,”. 

Joe smiled at your little speech. You always knew how to get him out of his head and back down to earth and this was just another example of that. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?” He mumbles as he turns onto his back and pulls you on top of him, making you let out a little squeal. 

“Many, Many, Many times,” you say, moving a little so you were straddling his waist. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you down so that you are just inches from his face. “Well, I love you,” he says again before pulling you closer and seizing your lips in a slow kiss. The grip on your waist tightens as he starts to rock you back and forth. The soft fabric of your shorts was grinding against his black boxers, your core was throbbing with each movement. 

“Joe,” you whimpered into the kiss. He pulls you closer while his right hand slides under the fabric of your tank top, his warm hand sliding up and down your bare back. His perfect lips were devouring yours as if he had been starved for days and had just gotten his first morsel of food. He pulls away from your lips and presses open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, eventually moving down to your neck and sucking on the soft skin. 

“Mmm,” you moan, feeling Joe’s growing erection and slick lips all over you. You knew where this was leading, and if it were any other morning you’d let it happen. But not today. 

You carefully pull away and move off of his hips before it could go any further, he has a look on his face that a child would have if they got candy taken away from them. “Baby, Come back,” he whines.

“Nope. Not right now,” you innocently smile. “You have to get up and get ready and I’m not trying to tire you right before your first day back out there,”.

Joe gets up from the bed and sits upright, “It can be my warmup,” he shrugs, his full bare chest on display sending chills down your spine. Another one of the physical changes Joe had gone through was an increase in weight and muscle, and boy did it pay off. The result was Joe being way bigger than he was before, once again similar to how he looked in college. Not only did it help him with training and recovery, but it also made you even more insatiable around him.  

You stare at him for a few seconds, wanting to jump into bed with him more than anything, but you shake your head and snap out of it. “Maybe after you come home,” you tease. 

“So like a reward?” He asks.

“Precisely,” you say. 

He lets out a dramatic sigh, “I guess I can wait,”. He moves out from the covers and stands up, walking over to you. 

“That’s my man,” you smile, wrapping your arms around his neck and placing a gentle kiss on his lips. 

You quickly freshen up while Joe gets his things ready, and then you let him take a shower while you pack him a few snacks. You pack him his favorite protein bar, an Orange Mango Body Armour, and a Greek yogurt protein powder muffin you made last night. You open the kitchen drawer, searching for a notepad. You find one and grab your pen, etching a note onto the paper.

I’m beyond proud of you, and I mean it. You have been killing it since you started training again and it’s finally time to remind everyone who the hell you are, and this is step 1. You are amazing in every single way possible. Keep your head up, 9. I love you more than life itself <3

You hear his heavy footsteps descend the stairs and quickly put the note and snacks in his bag and back on the couch where he left it. 

You spin around to face him, “You want something to eat? I can make an omelet or something?”. 

“It’s okay, I think I’ll grab something at the Facility,”.

“Missing those nasty green smoothies aren’t you?” you chuckle.

“Yes, and they are not nasty,” he says raising his eyebrow as he grabs his water from the fridge. 

“Thaaat’s debatable,” you drag out as you stumble towards him. It was almost time for him to head out and you deep down didn’t want him to. It was nice to have him around more than usual and now it was time for him to go back to doing what he does best, which you were obviously excited about. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to curl up on the couch with him for hours doing absolutely nothing productive.

He looks over at the time and sees that he has to head out soon, a little frown appearing on his face. He places his water on the kitchen island and throws out his arm to pull you in for a tight hug. “Mmmm, I don’t want to leave,” he groans. 

You wrap your hands around his waist and pull yourself closer to him, “I know,” you mumble against his warm chest. “But the day will pass by and before you know it, you’ll be back home,” you say as you lift your head off of his chest and meet his starry eyes. 

“Back home with my mouthwatering girlfriend, hopefully too exhausted to get up from bed because of our extracurricular activities,” he smirks. 

“Are you always horny?” you scoff as you pat his chest.

“You left me hangin’,” he says while tilting his head. 

“Sorrryyy,” you say, feeling bad as you hide your face in his chest again. 

He laughs as his hand moves to the back of your head, softly placing his hand on it. “It’s okay, as long as I get my reward when I get back,”. 

You lift your head again from his chest and meet his eyes which were now dark blue and filled with desire. “You got it,”. 

Hours Later 

You were sitting on the couch reading one of your favorite books before you saw your phone light up. You placed your book down on the couch and grabbed your phone, seeing that it was a text from Joe. A smile creeps up your face as you read his message.

Joe: Thanks for the snacks, I was starvingggg and those muffins are the best things I’ve ever had to date. But most importantly, thank you for that note. Seriously. Your words are so important to me and I don’t know what I would do without your constant encouragement and love. I love you I love you I love youu

You blushed at the repetitive “I love you’s” at the end of the text, and then remembered what you and written on the note to make him act like this

“He must be doing good,” you whisper to yourself as you type up a response, getting a reply from him instantly. 

You: I love you ❤️ How’s practice going by the way? 

Joe: Really good. Been throwing around a lot today with the guys and worked through some other stuff. They took a bunch of videos for media stuff so that’s something to keep an eye on if you want a peek 

You: Is it finally time for more football thirst traps? 

Joe: You’re funny

You: Hey? Can you blame me? The increased muscle and the flow you got going on is about to break the internet for the 2nd year in a row. My boyfriend is the definition of sexiness and when he puts on that jersey… Whew, someone has to restrain me 

Joe: You’re lucky I’m not at home right now 

You: Oh really? 

Joe: Yes really. 

You were about to type up a teasing response but you got a notification from the Bengal’s Instagram and immediately switched over to see what it was. It was a compilation of Joe throwing today at practice. 

You watched as he moved around in slowmo, throwing the ball around to the guys, his luscious hair flopping with every movement. The jersey he was wearing and the compression sleeve showed off his large muscular arms, arms you wish were wrapped around tight you right now. You paid attention to the grip he had on the football, the grip you wished he had on your thighs as right now as he took you to heaven. God, he looked so good right now. 

“Fuckkk,” you whispered to yourself, squirming around in your seat, feeling a little horny at the sight of him all sweaty and footbally. He looked mouthwatering and you were regretting letting him leave without a little quickie this morning to satisfy both your cravings. His throws were absolutely amazing in the video, managing to make each one hit his guys perfectly. He really was doing amazing and you couldn’t be more happier to see him back in his true element. 

“Ooh, that’s new,” you laughed as you watched him do a backhand pass to one of the guys. The smile on his face made you incredibly excited and at peace, he was going to be just fine. 

You switch back over to your texts with Joe, finally typing up a response after taking a few seconds to snap back to your senses.

You: Saw the video and you’re killing it ;) You feel good?

Joe: Oh, I feel greatttt. I’ll feel even better by the time I’m home. Got a lot of energy today 

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the tension through the screen. You needed him badly and this conversation was not helping the situation. 

You: I hope sooo. That video has me feeling some feelings that need to be cared for in more ways than just one. Maybe needing some gentle care, maybe a little rough care? Still trying to figure it out.. I think I need some help figuring out what it is 

Joe: I’ll be home in an hour

You: Drive Safe ;)

You turned your phone off, throwing it to the side as you threw your head back into the couch pillow. “He’s going to be the death of me,” you giggle before covering your face with your hands. 

An Hour Later 

You’re sitting at the kitchen island after taking a shower, making sure to scrub everywhere and anywhere with your new Rose Body Scrub, and scrolling through your Instagram feed until you hear the sound of the garage open. 

You felt heat rise up your body as you realized he was finally home. You turn off your phone and stand up as you hear the door open and close. Joe walks in, bag in hand, wearing his black sweat shorts and a loose sleeveless white workout shirt. You watch as he places his bag on the floor, takes his shoes off, and walks over to you without saying anything. 

He pulls you into him, hands wrapping around your lower back, and lips crashing down onto yours. His lips move against yours at a slow and needy pace, telling you everything you need to know without actually saying anything. His tongue slides into your mouth as his hand moves down to your butt. Your hands slide down his back and under his shirt, running your manicured hands across his soft back. Suddenly, he pulls away and meets your eyes. His eyes are dark and intense, filled with lust and desire once again. 

“Do I get my reward now?” He whispers as his hands slowly cup the flesh of your ass. 

“Mmm, I don’t know,” you tease as you break away from his grip. “I don’t know if you were quarterback enough today,” you lie, earning a scoff from him, knowing he absolutely was in every single way possible. You slowly walk over to where he dropped his bag on the floor, bending over slowly to grab it and making sure he was watching, and oh he was. 

“You and I both know you’re lying through your teeth,” he says as he walks over to you. He picks you up, causing you to let out a squeal, and throws you over his shoulder.

“Put me downn,” you laugh, patting his back. 

“Nope. If I remember correctly, it’s time for my promised reward and you apparently are feeling something that needs gentle and rough care. Time to kill two birds with one stone,”  he smirks as he walks over to the stairs, still holding onto you over his shoulder, and carrying you up to the bedroom. 

He enters the room and gently throws you down onto the silk sheets before ripping his shirt off so that his bare chest is on display. Your eyes move down to his chest, taking in every little detail of his upper body. His big muscular chest was tan from all the sun he’d been getting, his strong veiny arms on display, and that little blonde treasure trail that led down to one of your favorite features of his. 

“Like what you see?” He teases as he leans down to hover over you. 

“More than you’ll ever know,” you smile as you reach up and pull him down for a kiss. You kiss him hungrily as he starts to fiddle with the strings of your shorts. He unties the knot and slips his fingers into your panties, immediately going down to your wet heat.

“Mm, Joe,” you moan into the kiss as you feel his fingers tease your folds. He continues to kiss you as his fingers enter your core, slowly pumping in and out while his thumb toys with your clit.

You break away from the kiss and throw your head back into the pillow as his fingers pick up the pace, moans, and whimpers leaving your lips as he pushes you towards your pleasure. “Right there,” you moan as he hits your sweet spot. Just as you’re about to reach your high, he pulls his fingers out of your shorts.

“Why’d you stop,” you pant as you lift your head up.

“Because I don’t want you to cum yet,” he nods as he licks his fingers clean of your essence. He pulls down your shorts and panties all in one go and then starts to pull your tank top off, you lift your arms to make it easier for him. 

“I wanna take my time,” he says. 

“Shouldn’t I be the one making you feel good since this is your reward?” You ask as you unclamp your bra, freeing your breasts as Joe’s eyes travel down to them. 

“You are my reward,” he growls, pushing you back down. His lips wrap around your breast, sucking on your nipple. You move your hand into his long hair, pulling at the strands as he continues to suck on your breast. A few sighs leave your lips as he swirls his tongue around the bud. He pressed a few kisses in between them as he moved over to your other breast. His tongue swirled around your bud and the wet kisses sent shivers down your spine. 

“You smell so good,” he says in between kisses. 

“Joe,” you whimpered as you pulled his head back up to your face. You crashed your lips onto him as you hooked your leg around his body, pulling him closer to you. You could feel his boner through his shorts, only getting bigger by the second. 

“Let me take care of that,” you say as you pull away from the kiss, slowly moving you both up. 

“But I wanna taste you,” he mumbles as he presses kisses around your collarbone. 

An idea suddenly pops into your head. You hadn’t done it in a while, and when you did do it, you both absolutely enjoyed it. 

“Wanna kill two birds with one stone?” you echo his words from earlier as you run your fingers across his thigh. He pulls his head out from your neck and looks like he’s seen a ghost. 

“Are you sure?” he asks, searching your eyes. 

“Hell yes,” you giggle as you move out from under him, your body sizzling with desire and anticipation. 

A few minutes later, both of you are laying bare against each other. You move yourself further back and he grabs your hips, pulling you right to his face. 

“Ohh,” you whimper as you feel his warm tongue lick a stripe across your folds. 

You lean down and run your tongue across the tip of his cock, lapping up the pre-cum that was pooling at the tip. You feel Joe groan into your core, sending vibrations all throughout your body. Wet slurping sounds were coming from behind you as breathy moans escaped your lips. 

You wrap your soft lips around the tip of his cock, slowly sliding your mouth down, taking him inch by inch. You begin to bob your head up and down as Joe moves to suck on your sensitive clit.

“Joe,” you moan as you pull away, sliding your tongue along the prominent veins. You felt his warm mouth lap at your folds as he rhythmically sucked on your clit, sending you straight to heaven. You took him in your mouth again, this time sucking harder and setting a quick pace. 

“Y/N,” he moans against your core. You both are caught up in the heated moment for what feels like hours. He continues to eat you out like a starved man, and you continue to suck him into oblivion. His grip on your hips tightens and you feel him start to buck his hips, a sure sign he was close. You felt tension building in your belly as you felt his tongue slide into your core and his thumb rubbing circles around your clit. 

A few seconds later, the tension in your belly snaps as you feel a gush of wetness release from your core prompting you to moan around his slick cock. You hear Joe whimper as he laps up your juices, inching closer and closer to his release. You wrap your hand around his cock, sliding it up and down along with your mouth. A few more sucks later, hot spurts of his cum fill your mouth. 

“Fuckkk,” he moans behind you. You slide your lips around the tip of his cock, and then licking the sides, lapping up his release before turning around and sitting up so you were straddling him.

“That was so hot,” he smiles as he takes in your disheveled appearance. He runs his big hands along your sides, sliding down to your thighs. 

“So hot,” you echo as you move some of his hair out from his eyes. 

“Sooo, now that I got the gentle care out of the way, I think it’s time for the rough care,” he says as he flips you over, a squeal leaving your lips. 

“Was that not enough,” you giggle as he kisses down your body. 

“I think I quarterbacked pretty hard today and deserve a little more than that,” he says moving back up to your face.

“I guess you’re right,” you playfully tease. He presses a kiss to your nose and then to your lips, slowly sucking on your bottom lip as he teased your slick core with his cock. He slowly pushes the tip in, still attacking your mouth with his lips. 

“Shit,” you moan into this kiss at the increased pressure down below. 

“F- Fuck,” you whimpered as he slid all the way into your core, completely stretching you out with his big cock. He started thrusting into you hard, not giving you a second to collect your thoughts. Your cushiony walls felt like home to him and he couldn’t get enough of it, he needed you. 

“You feel so good,” He groaned as he pounded into your heat. He moved his head to the crook of your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the side and softly sucking on the skin. He moved deeper and deeper into your core with each thrust, sending your hips further into the bed. 

“Joe, I-” you begin to say but are interrupted by a moan as Joe’s cock grazes your G-spot. “Ohhh,”. 

He uses his hand and lifts one of your legs, causing your knee to bend, and allowing him to thrust deeper into you. “Joe!” you screamed as you felt him hit your G-spot.

“Right there?” he smirked.

“Yeah,” you moaned as you closed your eyes, the pleasure becoming too much for you. “Right there,” you whispered. You felt as if you were floating on a cloud as your boyfriend continued to pleasure you in every single way possible. 

“You’re so wet,” he groans as he continues to thrust into you. Sounds of your skin slapping against his fill the room, a pleasant sound that signifies that whatever was happening inside the room made you both feel good. 

“Joe, Fuck me harder,” you whimpered as you opened your eyes, your arms flying to the side as you were being pushed into the mattress. He was balls deep inside of you right now, and you were loving every second of it. 

He drops your leg and grabs your hand, lacing your fingers together as he thrusts into you faster and harder, causing your breasts to shake with every thrust. Joe leans down and licks a stripe across your nipple, sending chills down your body at the cool air hitting the wet skin. 

“Baby,” you moaned as the pleasure was building in your belly. 

The intense pleasure you were feeling right now was your favorite feeling in the entire world. Joe was so good to you and you were so good to him. The sounds that left your mouth and the feeling of you beneath him would often send him into overdrive. All he wanted to do was make you feel good, and you wanted to do the same for him. He was the only man that would ever see you like this and you were all his. He grinned at the moans and little noises leaving your lips as he sent you to heaven. 

You begin to buck your hips up into his, matching the pace of his quick thrusts. He moves his hand down to your waist, gripping you tightly, a bruise surely to form there later. His thrusts start to become more erratic, a sign that he was close. 

“Y/N..” he moaned. 

You moved your hands to cup his back, helping him move against you and guiding his thrusts. Each stroke hits every pleasure point, causing ecstasy to course through your veins. “Baby, I’m close,” he groans. 

“Fuck, me too,” you whisper. Your legs were starting to shake from his thrusts and your body started to become sore, but the pleasure in your belly only getting stronger by the second. A few well-placed and rough thrusts later, you felt the warmth of his release fill you, his head dropping down to your neck as he panted sweet nothings into your ear.

"You're so good. Fuck, I love you," he panted.

“Mpmh,” you whined as you were so close to letting go, your hands scratching the soft skin of his muscular back. Joe lifted his head from your neck, realizing you hadn’t come yet, and went back to snapping his hips against yours. How was he not tired yet? I mean, it really shouldn't be surprising considering his stamina. He can go for hours and hours if he feels like it.

He moved one hand down to your incredibly wet lower half and played with your clit. “Cum for me baby, you can do it,” he said as he pounded into you. The pressure in your belly was building up, but it was a feeling different than any other orgasm. This one felt strong, and a little painful, but also caused your stomach to flutter. “J- Joe, I-” you moan as you start to arch your back. “I- I can’t,” you whimpered. 

“Yes, you can. I’ve got you,” he soothes, moving down to press a soft kiss to your lips. 

A few seconds later, you felt the band in your belly snap hard. The result was you releasing all over the lower half of both your bodies and onto the bed. 

“Oh my god, Joe,” you moaned as you fell back against the sheets, throwing your head to the side, a smile creeping up on your face as you felt your extreme high. Now you really felt like you were on a cloud and the room was spinning. He uses his hand to turn your face to meet his, and his lips crash down onto yours in a delicate yet passionate kiss. He pulls away, a huge smirk on his face as he was taking in your fucked out expression, feeling satisfied that he could make you feel like this. 

“Now that was hot,” he laughed.

“It’s been a minute since that happened,” you pant, your eyes fluttering as you were trying to regain your senses. 

“I’m so glad it did,” he chuckles as he slowly pulls out of you, both of your releases dripping down your inner thigh. You hiss at the loss of contact but Joe presses a kiss to your cheek to ease any discomfort. He walks over to the bathroom to grab a towel and makes his way back to you. He cleans you up before picking you up and placing you on the comfy chair next to the windows so he can change the sheets. Then he walks into the closet and hands you one of his big t-shirts to slip on while he slips on a pair of shorts. He then digs through the drawer and pulls out 2 Tylenol tablets and a bottle of water from the mini-fridge for you.

You smile at his sweet gestures as you slip on the comfy shirt. Only he could be so soft and affectionate after completely re-arranging your guts.

A couple of minutes later, you both are back in bed, lying against the fresh sheets and wrapped up in each other’s arms. 

“Was that gentle & rough enough for you,” Joe teases.

“Oh, 100%. I don’t think I can move, you beat it up gooood this time,” you lazily giggle. “I’m surprised you’re so awake right now. You weren’t kidding about having a lot of energy today,”.

“I feel good. Hell, I feel fucking amazing,” he says, squeezing your shoulder. “Today was really good and being back out there feels incredible,”.

You look up at him and see his hopeful and excited facial expression. You felt so proud of him and so happy that things were going back to normal. The past few months were tough, but today, by the sounds of it, felt like a fresh start for him. 

“That’s really great Joe. I’m so proud of you,” you say as you press a kiss to his bare chest.

“Thanks for the reward by the way,” he says.

“Please, even if you sat out today or missed all of your throws, I still would’ve pounced on you. Nothing can keep me away from my own personal 6’4 bundle of sexiness,” you teased. 

“Good to know in case things go south again. At least you'll still want me if I fail,” he jokes.

“Hey, that is not funny,” you say, looking back up at him with a solemn face.

“I’m just playin’. I think we can save the repeat of your speech from this morning for another day,” he laughs. 

“Good. I’m too tired to lecture your ass,” you sigh. 

“I’m feeling it now too,” he yawns.

“You should be. You did most of the work tonight,” you say as you hook your leg over his hips so that you are straddling him again. His arms wrapped around your lower back, holding you close against him. You tuck your head under his chin and let out a content sigh.

“And that’s perfectly fine. I owe you for all those times when I couldn’t move my wrist because of that big ass cast,”. 

“Well, I’m just glad that we don’t have to ever deal with that again,” you say.

“Tell me about it,” he mumbles as he presses a kiss to your head. “Wait, you still didn’t answer my question from earlier,”. 

“Hm?” you question. 

“Was I quarterback enough today?” he asks.

You turn your face to look up at him. “Absolutely. In every single way possible. From the jersey to the thirst trap pics, the throws, the smile on your face, not to mention that stamina in bed. Yeah, you were quarterback enough today,” you smile.

His deep blue eyes were filled with love as he listened to you talk. Everything was going as planned now that he was back on the field, and he could see how relaxed and happy that made you. 

“I love you,” he says, hugging you tighter. "So, So, So, Much," he says, pressing a kiss to your head each time he says 'so'.

“I love you, quarterback,”.

–The End–

[loganhowlettshousewife]

animal

chapter 5.5

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

warnings: swearing, mentions of blood, introspection

series masterlist │my masterlist

“did you mean it? when you said you would want me even if i was more like,” a pause, “like an animal?”

you hum, cuddling further into his side, chasing the warmth of shared body heat. “of course. i kind of miss it, actually. there’s something weirdly attractive about you acting on just pure instinct, you know?”

he doesn’t know, actually. his entire life he’s been told to behave in a certain way - there were those who wanted him to be an animal, a violent killer with no human morals or thoughts to interfere with his orders, and those who told him he needed to reign in the feral aspects of his mutation, who called him a monster for the way he was born.

even amongst mutants he wasn’t always treated well. they had interesting abilities, beautiful things that belonged in movies or books or fairytale stories. they could control the elements and create things from practically nothing, while he only knew how to destroy. he brought chaos and bloodshed everywhere he went.

he was the kind of mutant that made people uncomfortable, the kind of mutant people saw as a freak of nature, a mistake. people like him were the reason mutants would never be accepted within society. he was too violent, too dangerous, too much of a threat.

they would fight for mutant rights, but turn right around and tell him to hide who he was, to be gentle or kind or better, whatever they decided that meant. because his nature made everyone uncomfortable.

and he understood that. because logan hated himself as much, if not more, than they all seemed to hate him. he’s always hated his instincts, hated how it made him feel, hated the way he felt that he couldn’t always control himself, hated what they made him.

so he’s always hidden parts of himself, never fully revealing who he is to anyone. in return, he finds people who love him, or at least who claim that they do, and the need for acceptance that presses down on his heart lessens into a bearable weight.

it was why he’d been so ashamed when he’d started to regain his memories, flashes of his past showing up in his dreams. for months he’d acted on his natural instincts with you, every lesson he’s ever been taught temporarily erased from his mind. he’d allowed himself to be wild, feral, a disgusting beast that doesn’t qualify as human. a monster.

and yet here you are, telling him that you find it attractive, smiling at him as if he hasn’t spent his entire life running from himself, being hunted down for his mutation for one reason or another, either to kill or to use. he’s a weapon to some, an uncontrollable animal to others, a mutant to be trained for a new purpose every time someone new finds him.

but to you, he’s just logan.

you don’t run or hide from what he is, you accept him with open arms. and that’s terrifying, the trust that you’ve placed in him, because all he’s ever done is hurt people, and you have absolutely no defences, nothing to protect you when he inevitably fucks up again.

he doesn’t think he’ll be able to let go of everything he’s taught himself just like that, let go of the control he’s spent centuries honing and perfecting to allow his instincts to crawl to the forefront of his mind. not after so long. but it physically hurts him to hold back at times, and the thought that maybe he’s finally found a place where he doesn’t need to deal with that pain, a place where he doesn’t need to hide - it makes the constant ache in his chest lessen just the slightest bit.

he’s still traumatised and plagued with horrible memories, anger still runs in his veins like blood, but all of that feels easier to cope with when he kisses and bites at your neck, scenting you, claiming you. and you let him, giggling with your hands in his hair.

your scent is happy, bright and warm like a sunny afternoon. he’s making you happy like this, the animal in him is making you happy like this.

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[fadingdaggerr]

first of all, your writing? phenomenal. absolutely obsessed with the way you portray everything. I've always struggled with being able to picture what I read, but the way you write makes it surprisingly much easier.

second, if you are open to it, could you maybe write a melissa/reader fic inspired by the song "Dessert Rose" by Lolo Zouaï? I listened to it for the first time in a minute the other day and have not been able to stop thinking about a melissa schemmenti fan fic to this song.

be my protector

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above, based on desert rose by lolo zouaï | 5.5 k

includes: angst, hurt/comfort, so much dialogue oops, r is scary dog privilege, slightly ooc mel

warnings: homophobia, religious themes/iconography, themes of guilt/shame

italics are flashbacks | st. rita - matron saint of impossible causes

translations: faccia di culo (assface), dolcezza (sweetness), cogliona (stupid)

note: this song is about a fight between identity and faith. however, i know legit nothing about catholicism since i was raised pagan, so if my info is wrong im sorry.

You’d forced yourself to spend a few nights apart so you could finish your own work, always too distracted by Melissa’s presence to even think. Three days at your own apartment was torture, but the motivation worked as planned. A little smile crosses your lips as you look at the Go Away mat, playing with your keys under the porch light until you find the one with the pink dot of Melissa’s nail polish.

Before you even get the key in, the door swings open to Jacob, shaking like a geriatric chihuahua, “oh thank God you’re here tonight.”

Ridding yourself of your jacket and shoes, you chuckle, “you made me sync our calendars, you knew I’d be here. Where’s Mel?”

He knocks his head to the side, “pacing and muttering in the kitchen. I interrupted and got called a ‘faccia di culo,’ but I think that’s a type of bread.”

“Not even close,” you say, patting his shoulder. Moving past him, you lean against the doorway of the kitchen. Eyes closed, Melissa mutters to herself as she walks back and forth. Nails of one hand dig into her side through her shirt, knuckles white from the pressure. The other hand fiddles with her saints, rubbing them between her fingers. Flushed cheeks puff with each breath, clearly trying to calm herself down.

Walking in, you seat yourself at the island, letting her come to you. A sigh passes her lips, telling you that she knows about your presence. After a beat, her pacing stops, and your hand reaches out to take away the harsh grip from her side. She tries to shake your hand away, but you insist. 

Letting you this time, she keeps her eyes closed as you gently massage the tension out of her fingers. Green eyes crack open, looking drained and still lingering with anger. Entwining your fingers, you pull her to stand between your legs. Bringing her hand up, you press a kiss to soft skin, a quiet plea to know what happened.

The shake of her head is a stern not-right-now. Entirely not calm enough to speak without yelling, her head just drops to your shoulder. You lean your head against hers, squeezing the hand laced in yours. Her weight rests completely on you after a moment, letting your arms wrap around her to keep her upright. The hand clenched at her sides relaxes, coming to rest on your thigh. Scratching up and down her back, you feel the stiff breaths fade, replaced with deep sighs.

Coming to hold her hip, you push her back from you. Nodding up, you silently ask her to go upstairs. Melissa squints at you, a silent rejection of your treatment. Cocking your head to the side, you raise your eyebrows in a silent plea.

Green eyes speak for her, I’m not a child.

Just let me take care of you, yours say back.

With a heavy breath, she pulls back from you. Trudging from the kitchen, she completely ignores Jacob’s wide gaze that follows her. Loud thuds of her footsteps go upstairs, with you trailing behind her. You look to her roommate, giving him a thumbs-up as you make your way up.

Closing the bedroom door behind you, you move to sit next to her on the bed. “You don’t have to tell me what’s bothering you,” you start softly. “All I need to know is if I need to break out my brass knuckles.”

Melissa lets out a dry laugh, keeping her eyes on the floor, “no, no knuckles. Just Seamus. He invited me- us- to dinner at his place. This weekend.”

“Okay?” You say slowly, finger pointing into your chest. The youngest Schemmenti sibling is over at least twice a month for dinner, the only you’ve met, but adore nonetheless. “Why’s that making you so… this?” You gesture to her tense posture and she gives you a sly look.

“He always comes here. The boy can’t cook, what’s he even inviting us over for?” She moves her gaze to the floor, “it’s fishy.”

You nod silently, thinking for a second. If she had ever given you a straight answer on what happened with the other siblings, this would be so much easier. Seamus is only still acceptable because he was too young to have done anything. Every time you tried to broach the topic, she’d just say they were dead to her and that it ain’t good to talk about the dead. It had been months since you tried, after she nearly broke a door off the hinge over seeing her sister in passing at the charter school. 

“Well I certainly won’t force you to go,” you start slowly, “but it’s dinner, baby.” Leaning into her, you grab her hand and lace your fingers together, “he’ll probably order some takeout, so no worries about him poisoning us. Plus you got me, I’m always on your side.”

Looking at you, Melissa scans your face as she weighs her options. A small smile toys at her lips, “how do you always do that?’’

“What?”

“Make everything better?” Melissa gives a faux pout, hand grabbing your cheeks into a smoosh.

Pulling her hand away from your face, you press a kiss to her palm, “I don’t, I’m just telling you my thoughts.” Rolling her eyes, her fingers graze your cheek again with the faintest of touches. Just as she's about to lean in, you add, “go apologize to Chicken Little, he’s probably used Google translate by now.”

Pink lips form into another pout. Raising your brows, you motion to the door. Biting her tongue, Melissa stands up and walks to the door. Just before she opens it, she strides back over to grab your face, planting a solid kiss on your lips. Turning back, she smirks to herself as she walks down the stairs.

—☽—

Melissa Schemmenti loved her family and her family loved her. Once.

Family dinner every night was always loud with so many conversations happening at the same time. Tony and Kristin Marie are always chatting about the show they watched together, John Anthony trying to recount his whole day to no one in particular, Mary Camille pestering Melissa about how they should rearrange their room again. There was a sense of peace in the white noise her family created. A comfort in the routine.

Once she was in high school, most of the family did not attend anymore. Tony was always off with his friends for days on end and Marie stayed up in her room, taking her plate silently with her. Melissa always stayed, directly at her mother’s side, holding her hand as they said grace. With every dinner, she always had to kick Kristin Marie to remind her to shut her eyes, unless she wanted to face the disgusted glint in Teresa’s eyes.

Arriving home late after tutoring, Melissa’s brows furrowed. It was so quiet in the house, eerily so. Walking towards the kitchen, she could smell the vegetable risotto, it was always her favorite. Following her nose to the table, Melissa pouted at Mary Camille in her usual seat next to their mother. The only open chair was at the very end of the table, facing only Teresa. Taking her place, she peeked up to her family, met with everyone’s eyes already on her.

Maria Christina, who was always glued to her side, was leaning away, shoulders bumping with Tony’s, who was surprisingly home. Looking at Kristin Marie, her gaze was not met. The sense of calm that had been flowing through her was ripped away. The edges of her vision frayed as the seat at the head of the table was filled. Green eyes that match hers stared back, unblinking and devoid of care.

Manicured hands rested on the table, nails tapping. The face across from hers so alike her own, it had always felt like the future peering at her through a furrowed brow. Tensing, she knew not to break eye contact.

“Melissa Ann Caterina,” her mother said, slow and acidic.

“Ma,” she answered, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

Red nails dug into the wood, “who is Bianca?”

Biting her inner lip, Melissa looked at her mother with wide, terrified eyes. Teresa stayed stoic, brows only raising slightly, still demanding an answer to her question. “I don’t know,” she mumbled.

“Your dolcezza on the swim team,” her mother spat. A small pink notebook was placed on the table, bent edges flattened. “Does this ring any bells, cogliona?”

No one knew where her diary was, other than who she shared a room with. Her eyes flicked to Mary Camille, who looked as if she’s about to cry when her hazel eyes met green. If fear wasn’t pumping through her veins, she would have strangled her sister right this very moment. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Melissa nodded in response to her mother.

“Selfish,” Teresa hissed, “everything I’ve taught you, that Father David taught you, gone. You spit in the face of blood, of God? St. Rita won’t even want you.”

“I listened,” Melissa whimpered out, voice and hands trembling alike.

“Clearly not.”

The eyes of her siblings dropped from her frame, all watching their laps as their mother yelled relentlessly. Air hurts to breathe, skin crawling, bones aching in guilt. Melissa wished she could run, but she couldn’t even move. Her shaky hand rose to her neck, grasping at her chest. The gold pendant felt like it may just burn her.

—☽—

Wild eyes shoot open, body sitting up in the bed. Heaving, she tries to catch her breath, fingers squeezing at the comforter. To her left, you’re still sleeping, facing her with a hand reaching out. Trembling, Melissa removes herself from the bed, trudging to the ensuite. Looking at herself in the mirror, she still sees that sixteen-year-old girl, puffy-eyed and red-nosed.

The walls were too familiar. Brick everywhere, plastic over the lampshade, worn down rugs faded and fused to the floor. It’s the same, it never changes. The grandfather clock ticking at the end of the hall gives away the occasion.

Forcing herself to take deep breaths, Melissa leans against the cold wall to soothe her clammy skin. Her hands splay out in front of her, tightening into fists then relaxing, attempting to rid the tension instead of punching the mirror. Tears burn her eyes but do not fall, she refuses to let them get to her again.

Always seven o’clock. Always the open seat at the end.

In bed, your hand brushes across the warm space where Melissa had been. Cracking open an eye, you pout at the empty spot. The light from under the bathroom door draws your attention, staring at it as you wait for her to come back. Flickering eyes pop open at the sound of rattled breathing from the other room.

Stumbling off the mattress, you drag yourself in front of the door. Knocking softly, you rest your forehead against smooth wood, “baby? You okay?”

“Fine, hon,” comes her muffled reply, “just go back to bed.”

“Can’t without you,” you say, more awake now. No reply comes, just the sound of her breathing, still fast. The stuttering gives away her attempt to calm herself, desperate to lessen the weight in her chest. “Let me in, Mel,” you beg quietly, fingers tracing the grain of the wooden door.

Without answering, the door opens to reveal her, wearing only your t-shirt and a frown. Fat tears cling to her lashes, her stubbornness keeping them from her cheeks. Shuffling past you, she sinks herself back on the mattress, looking at you expectantly. Joining her, you open your arms to let her curl into your side.

Burying into your neck, Melissa releases a deep breath that had been stuck in her chest since she awoke. Letting her weight rest against you, her arm wraps firmly around your middle. Twirling sections of her hair, your eyes flit across the ceiling while the gears of your mind turn.

Melissa is so glad she’s not facing you, croaking out, “was just a bad dream.”

“It’s not just a bad dream if it makes you cry, baby,” you say against her hair, pressing a kiss there. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Shaking her head, she settles further into you. Hand dragging down, she tucks it under your shirt, splaying across your side. Pressing her lips to your neck, Melissa silently hopes that you’ll take it instead of an answer. Another kiss lands on her forehead, an acceptance.

Sleep finds you quickly, but Melissa’s mind evades it at every chance. Leaning away from you slightly, she simply watches you. The rise and fall of your chest, the way your head turned as she pulled away. Her eyes trace your face, attention catching on the slight scrunch of your brow. Guilt bubbles in her throat, hot tears stinging once again. Tucking back into your side, she places another kiss to your neck, this time an apology for making you worry.

—☽—

It’s better to not pry, no matter how much you wish you could right now. Melissa’s eerie silence has filled the morning, and you’ve found yourself thankful that Jacob fell asleep at Janine’s movie night. Sweet and well-intentioned as he is, his overactive heart might just land him with worse than an assumption of focaccia.

Rounding into the bedroom, the redhead sits at her vanity, diligently applying her eyeliner. Watching her place it down, you come up behind her to press a kiss to the crown of her head. Wordlessly, you detangle the necklaces beside her, arranging them. Moving her hair to the side, you put on the diamond her Nonna got her for her thirteenth birthday. Then her cross, silver to match the other chain. Her three golden saints finish it, matching the rings adorning her fingers.

Melissa hums a silent thanks, unscrewing her mascara. Stealing her room temperature coffee, you lean against the vanity. “You’re beautiful,” you say into the mug.

Melissa turns to you, black coated lashes on one eye, still-blonde lashes on the other. With an unamused face, she mutters, “only you think that right now.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true,” you match her quiet tone, tilting your head down to look at her through your lashes. Flicking your gaze over her, you finally realize that the sweater she wears is yours. A grin passes your lips, leaning to press another kiss to her head. Pushing off the vanity, you leave her to get ready alone, the silence making you slightly jittery.

Flopping onto the couch in the living room, you stare at the ceiling until in wait, losing yourself in your mind. Melissa’s fear about going to her brother’s was still so puzzling, clearly eating at her despite her refusal to acknowledge it to you. Just a bad dream, she had called it. As much as you didn’t believe her, and still don’t, you left it alone.

The creak of Melissa walking down the steps pulls you from your mind, sitting up to look at her over the couch. How small she looked, nervous and bundled in your ancient sweater, fiddling with the frayed edge of the sleeve. You extend your hand over the back of the couch, inviting her closer. Sitting up on your knees, you tug her into your space.

“We don’t have to go,” you say, “can just blame it on me, say I’m sick and need you to nurse me back to health. Or that I got shot, whatever works.”

A sudden laugh shoots from her lips, “oh, of course, the only two options for an excuse.”

“I went out in a blaze of glory, so sorry Seamus,” you say with a false solemn tone, bringing her hand to your heart in a double-handed clutch. “My last wish was beer and mediocre Chinese food, a shame we must miss it.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Melissa fights back giggles. “We’ll go. It’ll be fine, I’ll be fine.”

You know that she’s speaking more to herself than you, so you just nod. Freeing her hand from your grasp, Melissa shoves her feet into heeled boots. Looking over her shoulder, her expectant gaze pulls you from your seat to put on your Converse.

Grabbing the keys before she can, you pull the door open to motion for her head out before you. As you start the car, your hand hovers over the gear shift, debating if you actually leave with her so clearly stressed beside you. A soft hand falls over yours, wrapping your hand around the shift in silent permission.

A quiet drive leads you to the other end of the city, in front of a brick building with only a few cars parked on the street. Removing the keys from the engine, you get out to jog around the car, opening the door for Melissa. Green eyes scan the street, eyeing each vehicle with suspicion, but relinquishes once you wrap a steady arm around her waist.

Pressing the button with the crossed out name, knowing well of the Schemmenti habit, you wait for the buzzer. The click of the door unlocking comes, and you tug it open, holding it open for Melissa. With a deep breath, she walks in. Immediately, her hand grasps your own, almost walking behind you as you walk down to Seamus’s apartment.

Knocking is unnecessary as the youngest Schemmenti opens the door with a massive grin, “you actually came!”

You chuckle, shrugging off your jacket and grabbing Melissa’s from her, hanging them on the hooks beside you. Leaning into his side-hug, you joke, “well, I was promised sesame chicken.”

“It’ll be here, I called like fifteen minutes ago,” he says, wrapping an arm around his big sister’s shoulders. “And worry not, Melly Bean, I got a double order of crab rangoons.”

Melissa rolls her eyes at the nickname, fighting the grin on her face. Pulling from his side, she brings herself over to you, arm tucking itself around your hips. Your own goes around her shoulder, the other offering her a freshly opened beer. Immediately, she chugs half of it, not even bothering to look at your reaction of pursed lips.

The pre-game shows appear on the TV, announcers talking about star players and underdogs of the season. Leaning against your side more, Melissa tucks her head into your shoulder. Squeezing her shoulder in silent question, you feel her nod softly.

Half way through your beers, Seamus looks up from his phone, eyes staying clear of either of yours or Melissa’s eyes. Standing, he awkwardly lingers, “the- uh- the food’s here. So, I’m gonna grab the food… because it’s here. The food.” 

Your brows scrunch, looking him over. The slight shifting of his weight gives away his anxiety, as if his repetition wasn’t enough. Without really thinking, your arm wraps tighter around the redhead’s shoulders. Pushing back your skepticism, you say, “then go get it?”

“Yeah, kid. Don’t need permission, it’s your place,” Melissa’s dismissive tone makes you turn. So tuned into the game, she hadn’t picked up on his tone, let alone his tense posture. Turning quickly, Seamus nearly runs out of the room to leave the apartment. Keeping your eyes on him, you watch him take a deep breath before stepping out the door. Simmering, you turn back to the TV, unblinking gaze barely focusing. What is this little shit up to?

When the door reopens after five minutes, two voices come through it. The tension in your body finally catches up to Melissa, head flying off your shoulder so fast, you swear she could have gotten whiplash. Turning to face you, a mix of fear and anger crosses her face. Glossy lips fall into a deep frown, stern eyes in place to fight her tears.

“I knew it was a setup,” she grumbles, pulling away from you to rise from the couch, “never shoulda fucking came here.” Following behind her, you keep your space.

In the doorway of the kitchen, Melissa pauses, staring at her mother. Sensing the eyes on her, Teresa turns, judging eyes flicking over her daughter before a crocodile smile crosses her face. “My Melly,” she says, opening her arms. “Come here, let me look at you.”

Shuffling, Melissa approaches her mother cautiously with crossed arms. Stopping just outside her grasp, she asks, “did you make him do this?”

“It was him that asked me if I wanted to see you,” Teresa says. “I’m guessing he didn’t tell you?”

“He left that part out,” Melissa says, nails digging into her skin through her sweater. “What even got you here?”

“I can’t want to see my daughter?” The only reply the question gets is a raised brow. Teresa caves, “he said you had a new boyfriend. Well, partner, like the younger kids are saying now. But I wanted to meet him anyway, he here?”

The sigh that passes Melissa’s lips can be felt from your spot around the corner. It was her telling you to get over to her, forcing the bandaid off. With all your strength, you school your features, keeping the daggers from going to Seamus. A smile crosses your lips, sticking your hand out and introducing yourself, “nice to meet you.”

“And you,” Teresa says, eyes fighting a squint. The expression is so similar to Melissa’s that it makes you pause. Retracting your hand, step back next to Melissa. Green eyes meet their match, and the staredown between mother and daughter feels as though it may start a fire.

“Food’s ready to eat,” Seamus says through his voice cracking, “grab whatever you want.”

“Thank you, Seamus,” you say with a sickly sweet smile, stalking towards him to make plates for you and Melissa. Stepping back as you get closer, he keeps the island between you and him, moving when you move. Your eyes flick to Melissa, watching her wide eyes stare at the floor as she seats herself at the end of the island. Pushing her plate over to her, she silently accepts it, waiting for you before she starts eating.

The silence over the table is deafening, somehow reverberating off brick walls. Seating yourself next to Melissa, you push around sesame chicken until someone else takes a bite. Across the table, opposite of Melissa, sits her mother, twirling lo mein with precision. It’s a one sided stalemate, Melissa’s eyes never leaving her plate.

A scoff from Teresa echoes in the room, all eyes turning to her. “Seriously?”

Green eyes stay on the rangoons, “what, Ma?”

“You do this to me again?” The acid in her tone makes Melissa’s eyes squeeze shut. The more her mother speaks, the tighter they get, stars appearing behind her eyelids.

It feels the same. The brick walls. The long table separating them. No one touching their food. The way Seamus’s eyes falter when he tries to look at her. It’s as if the universe is hellbent on her repeating this moment. Black seeps in the edges of her vision, crackling and dense. Her mother’s voice feels like it’s in her head, like it never left. All the warmth in Melissa’s body sits in the center of her chest, fire burning beneath her pendants.

“Again and again, you defy everything I’ve taught you,” her mother continues. “I thought this little game was done, but of course not. Not for you.”

The anger bubbling inside you begins to spill, white knuckles gripping the edge of the table. Mask dropping, the disdain for the woman in front of you palpable. Whether it's your grip or Melissa’s shaking that vibrates the tables, you can’t be bothered to care.

“I prayed and prayed, begging for St. Rita to help you, to give you a chance. But you’re longer just a lost cause, you’re an abomina-”

“Lady, shut your fucking mouth!” You bark, standing up. Leaning forward on your hands you seeth, “you do not speak to her that way. Ever!”

Melissa’s eyes fly from her plate to you, brows practically meeting her hairline. Scanning over you, she can see the anger seeping from you. It’s unlike any other time she’s seen you mad, you’re beyond seething. Your name passes her lips, trying to get you to stand down, but her voice fails her.

Teresa rises from her seat, “you do not get to speak. You are not part of this family.”

“I’m not part of your family, thank God. But Melissa, she’s my family. And I don’t like people fucking with my family.”

The glare she gives you, it's so similar to Melissa’s once again. The thought alone makes a small smirk cross your face, looking at her like you’re daring her to try you. A face so similar to Melissa’s could never intimidate you, even if it’s worn by someone who hates you.

“If you have anything else to say,” you step closer, “you say it to me. Not her.”

“Okay-” Seamus tries to cut in and defuse the tension. Both you and Teresa turn to look at him with equal warning, immediately putting him back in his seat. Looking back at each other, the older woman points a finger at you.

“My daughter rejected her family, her God. And now, she’s burying herself deeper with encouragement from you,” she spits, lips curling in anger.

Stepping closer again, you meet her pointing hand. Voice low, you duck into her space, “was it her that rejected you, or you that rejected your daughter?”

Turning away, you join Melissa’s side, and hand wrapping around her bicep. A gentle tug pulls her from her seat, walking her to the door. Grabbing her coat, you wordlessly place it around her, avoiding her eyes. Shrugging on your own coat, you announce into the apartment, “feel free to not come by next week, Seamus.”

Opening the door, you motion for Melissa to walk out first, feeling her stern gaze on you. Silence in the hall follows you to the car. The second the radio begins to play, Melissa turns it off, just staring at you as you start the car and begin to drive home. Mouth agape, her words falter. Flicking to the steering wheel, she watches you flex your hands against the leather, desperate to smother the fire inside you.

Her eyes never leave you until you pull into her driveway, immediately throwing herself out of the car and climbing up the steps. Pausing at the door, she groans, knowing you have the keys. Stepping in, you both stay quiet as you take off your shoes and jackets.

Trudging up the stairs, Melissa follows you. Neither of you speak as you change into your pajamas, nor as you get in bed. Facing away from you, Melissa stares unblinkingly at the outline of her dresser. Turning to face her back, you watch her breathing, seeing the stuttering in the rise and fall. Leaning forward, you press a tentative kiss to her shoulder.

“I love you,” you whisper, patiently waiting for her echo. All you get is a little hum, and her face burying into her pillow.

—☽—

Heavy eyelids crack open as sleep crumbles away. Instinctively, you look to the side, seeing Melissa still sleeping beside you. Curled in on herself, she seemed to have shuffled further away from you before falling asleep. The thought alone makes you look away, turning to the clock. Only six in the morning, on a Sunday no less. Sighing softly, you roll out of bed, blindly grabbing a sweatshirt from the chair in the corner. Quietly as possible, you walk out of the room, sure to avoid the creaky floorboard right outside the door. Slowly moving down the stairs, you round into the kitchen.

Feeling too lazy to bother with the French press, you scoop grounds into the coffee maker. As the pot sputters, you reach above to the cupboards for three mugs. Part of you hopes that Jacob doesn’t come down for a while, leaving space for you and Melissa to talk when she finally gets up. The other part sort of hopes he does, that way you can delay whatever this conversation will be.

Stirring your coffee, you hear the door of the bedroom open, slow steps coming towards the kitchen. Hearing the familiar shuffle in her steps, you make Melissa's coffee, adding sugar to hers unlike your own. Leaning against the counter, you hold it out the moment she enters the room.

  Taking it with an averted gaze, she gives a slight hum in thanks. Resting against the butcher block, she finally looks at you. Fading mascara and eyeliner crumbles around her eyes, lips no longer glossy. Even if she wouldn’t agree, she’s achingly beautiful. Her tired eyes are just as hard to read as usual, too many thoughts circulating behind jade.

A moment of silence falls over the space, both of you sipping out of your mugs in contemplation. Melissa places her mug down first, breaking the tension. Tilting her head, she prompts you to speak first.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly, placing your mug on the counter next to you. “I shouldn’t have yelled- or swore- at her.”

“No,” she mutters, “you shouldn’t have. But why did you?”

Feeling your face warm a little, you look down at the floor, eyes tracing the grain of the wood. “For the same reasons I said. You’re my family, I love you,” your fingers flex against the marble counter. “And hearing her talk to you like that, I couldn’t just sit there. Even if she’s your mother.”

“I love you, too. And how much you love me,” Melissa says. Stepping closer to bring your attention back to her, her brow raises as she speaks, “and you need to keep your temper in check, especially if shit like that ever happens again.”

Scanning her face, you can see that the lingering anger from last night is entirely gone. There’s something close to appreciation, and a hint of warning with her cocked brow. Pursing your lips to keep from grinning, you just nod.

A hand releases from the counter, drawing an X over your heart, “no brass. Real or metaphorical, promise.”

“Good,” Melissa mumbles with a smile growing on her lips. Grabbing your wrist, she hauls you towards her. Soft lips press against your own, slow and gentle. Pushing into her, you back her into the butcher block, hands locked on her hips. Your tongue glides across her lips, immediately let in. Delighting in the sighed moan that follows, you smile against her. Her hands slide up your arms to cup your face, keeping you close as she deepens the kiss.

Eager fingers slip underneath her shirt, gripping warm skin. Goosebumps rise up your neck as Melissa’s nails dig into you ever so slightly. Just as your hands move to her thighs, ready to sit her on the counter, fast steps descend the old staircase. Jumping apart, you fix Melissa’s shirt, rolling your eyes at the interruption. Grabbing your mug, you press a kiss to her cheek before shuffling back upstairs to shower.

When you come back down, Melissa has migrated to the couch, sprawled across as she watches whatever was on. Rolling over the back, you carefully drop on top of her. With a quiet oof, her arms wrap around you loosely, letting you get comfortable. Tucking into her shoulder, your eyes linger on her neck, tracing the chains. Your hand comes up to fiddle with the saints, thumb brushing over in indented designs. They’d become faded, time and her anxious rubbing of the metal taking the impression away.

Feeling your attention, Melissa peeks down. Her own hand comes to single them out.

“This one’s from Nonna,” she says softly. “Mary, basically every little girl gets this one. And this one’s from Barb, John Baptist,” her thumb brushes over it, “he’s for teachers.” She pulls up the last one, the least degraded of the three, “and this one’s Raphael. Healing.”

You hum, fingers more so tracing her skin than medal anymore, “who’s he from?”

“Myself,” she says coyly. “Kinda against the rules, they’re normally gifted, but…”

You press a kiss to her shoulder, cuddling into her further, “rules, shmules. Intention is what matters. At least I assume it is.”

Melissa doesn’t answer, just tightens her grip around you. Tears fight to fall down her cheeks, and she lets them silently go. So free and comfortable in this moment, with no separation between either part of who she is. It has taken her so long to allow herself the duality, to strip away the bits of her faith that didn’t allow her to simply live. With the family she’s built herself, her Abbott people and now you, there is no choice that must be made.

note: thank you sweet anon for the compliments, they mean the world. this was genuinely one of the hardest reqs i have had because i didn't know this song previously. i went down a rabbit hole to understand the meaning and find a way to incorporate themes of the verses and chorus. thank god for my christian family for giving me something to pull from /s

as always, feedback is greatly appreciated. love you big time xo

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

Can you tell me what hurts? - John Marino

Word Count - 5.5 K

Summary - Always struggling with having a abnormal menstrual cycle, and doctors not seeming to care. It sort of became the norm for you to just not really know what's going on with your body. After meeting John, you were worried if he would get scared with how sick you really got so often and run. Or would he be the one to stick around and try to help you figure out what's wrong?

Warnings - mentions of shitty doctors, a mental breakdown, some minor fighting, mentions of blood but I feel like that's a given, PCOS diagnosis

Author's Note - Thank you for always supporting me. I literally wrote finished this segment today because well life. If you have read the other segments of the 'Let me love you' series then you will know that this one is written in a different style. PCOS is one of those things that affects many different parts of life and so this segment does have more time jumps then I normally write. I just really wanted to do a good job of presenting PCOS as a whole, and not only one part.

let me love you masterlist. main masterlist.

Not having a regular menstrual cycle wasn’t something new to you. Never once in your entire life have you ever had a regular period. Fighting with doctors off and on until you ran out of willpower to try to figure out what was wrong with you. Why were you on birth control since you were a freshman in high school? Why was it if you let your body get off the medication you wouldn’t have a period for an entire year? Why would the pain from your natural period put you in the fetal position on your coach? Why was it so hard to lose weight compared to others? Why did you grow body hair three times as fast as others? And why did no one else seem to give a fuck to run the proper tests? 

Fighting with doctors since you were fifteen you ran out of willpower to fight, what was the point. Both of you knew that you had PCOS but they were too scared to diagnose someone so young with it. They didn’t want to have to tell a 19 year old at the time that you might struggle to have kids one day. So you did what you were told, you took birth control and every year like clockwork when your body becomes used to the drug, and your period wouldn’t stop for a month you would change your medicine and start the endless cycle over again.

Meeting John in your mid-20’s, he had no idea that you struggled almost fighting your body every month. Even if you didn’t have your period you still had the side effects of birth control.  Whether in pain from the medicine or crying out of frustration that you were deemed to take a pill for the rest of your life and no one seemed to care to figure out what was actually wrong with you. John still doesn’t know that your body seems to hate you not being able to regulate your own period. Both of you have only been seeing each other for about 6 months. He knew you were on the pill, and you both have been tested and have been having unprotected sex. But he doesn’t know that about once a year your body becomes a crime scene constantly covered in blood, not being able to have a maxi pad on for more than 30 minutes at a time. Although your body doesn’t seem to have any routine, the one thing it has down is when your body becomes used to the brand of birth control you’re on. Every November, your period came and it didn’t stop until after labor day, sometimes the first week of October depending when it came. As each day passed your stomach started to hurt more and more not sure if it was cramps warning you of what’s coming, or your one anxiety in the fact you were about to enter a month of hell and possibly a few ER trips before you could get in to your gynecologist.  

Sadly it was the first as you went to the bathroom to find that your period had indeed started. Sighing to yourself you reached under your sink and grabbed out a maxi pad and put it on. After you’re done using the bathroom, you go to the kitchen and grab some Advil and take 3 hoping it does something to ease the pain you felt. Cursing to yourself as you remembered that you had a date planned with John tonight to go to the movies. No longer feeling like leaving your apartment you decide to call him to cancel, and of course he picks up on the first ring. 

“Hey baby I was just about to leave my place.” sounding rushed. 

“Yeah about that..” taking a deep breath, feeling terrible about canceling but knowing that if you forced yourself to do too much now no way would you be able to last your usual month of hell. 

Johnny softly asks “What’s wrong y/n/n” it’s clear in his voice that his own anxieties are rising and you officially feel like a piece of shit girlfriend for canceling so last minute and not being able to be one of those girls who can just push through having their period. 

Closing your eyes as tight as they go, and gripping your uterus with your free hand you sigh loudly on the phone. “Johnny.” barely above a whisper. “I don’t feel so good.” trying to get the message across that you feel like absolute shit without having to tell him that your period from hell has arrived. 

“Are you sick honey? Do you need me to pick something up from the pharmacy? Can you tell me what hurts? So I can get the right medicine baby.” It’s easy to hear the shuffling in the background, knowing that he is probably slipping on his shoes now to leave. 

“It’s not that kind of sick Johnny.” you shyly admit. “I’m just on my period.” you whisper as you hear Johnny no longer making any sounds on the phone. 

“Okay well, I am still coming over.” he decided.

“Johnny you don’t have-” 

“No, I planned to go to the movies with my girl, so the movies will just have to come to her place instead. Are you craving anything baby? I can stop at the grocery store, do you need anything? I read somewhere once that a heating pad helps. Do you have one?” firing off his questions in seconds, it was sweet but overwhelming a little having someone care so much. 

“I don’t have any cravings, get whatever you want and yes I have a heating pad, but it’s too far away and I’m being lazy.” you softly chuckle your confession. 

“I can instacart snacks I’ll come straight over.” Suddenly you hear the door to his car close. “And before you protest you are in pain Y/N and you won’t grab your own heating pad that will help you so I will.” He hangs up the phone before you can even open your mouth. John spends the night with you, showering you with love, he does make faces of discomfort when you make a face that you're in pain. But he doesn’t say anything, you told him you're fine, nothing out of the ordinary. Which it wasn’t for you when you got your period. John was so sweet and caring the entire night it really did make you like him even more than you already did. Maybe even fall a little more in love with him, even though it was too early in your relationship to say the “L” word. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two weeks have gone by and your period hasn’t lighted up, if anything it has only gotten worse.  Thankfully Johnny has been very involved with hockey the past two weeks that when you are together, you're at least able to hide the frequent trips to the bathroom, or popping Advil like it’s candy. But tonight John asked to spend the night and as much as you missed your boyfriend you really didn’t wanna admit to him that you’ve been sleeping with a towel under you because you don’t want to ruin another pair of expensive sheets or worse get a stain on your mattress. When you tried to make excuses that you had an early morning tomorrow, he said he didn’t mind waking up with you. When you tried to say that your apartment was messy, he said it couldn’t be as bad as last week when he went to Luke’s apartment since Jack has been in Michigan recovering from shoulder surgery. When you said you didn’t have any food in the house, he asked when that’s stopped you both before from ordering in, and that he will wake up even earlier to go to your favorite bakery tomorrow. Honestly you couldn’t think of any more excuses so you reductively decided to let him come spend the night with you. 

As soon as you got home from work, you took a much needed shower and changed into some sweats. Deciding to attempt to clean your much neglected kitchen since you have been feeling like absolute shit. Starting with the dishes you loaded the dishwasher, and cleaned by hand all your pans. Wiping down all the counters, and doing a quick mop of the small kitchen floor you started to feel better. 

Just as you were dropping the water into the sink and putting the mop away, John buzzes to get into your building. Walking over and letting him up, you speak into the mic to let him know your door is open. Deciding that you're suddenly feeling lightheaded probably because your iron levels are starting to be affected. Trying to make it to the coach, you almost make it when John walks in locking the door behind him. 

“Hey I went ahead and picked up-” stopping mid-sentence when he notices you sitting on the coach hunched over in pain. “Baby what's wrong?” he asks, sliding his shoes off, slowly making his way over to you. 

Sitting up you put the best fake smile you can muster. You say “nothing just needed to stretch out my back is all.” Feeling terrible about lying but you also would have felt more uncomfortable telling John who you’ve only been seeing for six months about your menstrual problems. 

“Okay” although you know he doesn’t believe you, but you’re thankful he’s letting it go at the moment. 

You have never been more thankful that John said he was tired after practice and rather not leave the coziness of your apartment. Deciding on a movie, both of you were cuddled up together on the coach, you only have to pay attention trying to put some pressure on your uterus so it wouldn’t hurt so bad. Now John was only half paying attention because everytime you shifted to try and lessen your pain level, you subtly rubbed against his dick and now he was starting to have what was a semi into a fully hardened dick. Feeling another cramp coming you shifted your body again trying to ease the pain. But before you could, John's hands stopped your hips, his mouth going to the side of your cheekbone. “Baby if you don't stop moving I think my dick might get permanent damage.” he whines, as he leaves little open kisses down your face. 

“Oh sorry” you blush trying not to not to move your hips too much. 

“Or we could let it happen.” As he starts leaving little kisses starting at your temple and then going below your ear, his hand going under your hoodie, inching closer and closer to your waistband. 

“Johnny I can’t” squeezing your eyes shut as hard as they possibly can until you see stars because you really didn’t wanna have to tell him this now. 

“okay.” laying back down against the couch. John would never push you if you weren’t in the mood but you could tell by the tone of his voice that he was confused.

“I'm still on my period.” you shyly admit.

Sitting up more now as if his brain is doing the math, “wait didn’t you have your period like two weeks ago?” he questioned. 

“yeah.” Turning your back now to face him better. 

“Baby is it supposed to last that long?” he rhetorically asks. All you do is look down at your hands and he gives a knowing tone. “Baby, are you okay?” he asks gently, trying to hold you in the awkward way you're half laying down, half sitting down on the coach. 

“Yeah this just happens sometimes. I made an appointment with my doctor, okay.” you mumble, obviously wanting to drop the conversation and your thankful thank John lets both of you focus back on the movie. 

As the movie continues you couldn’t help squirming a little, as your back started arguing and your body suddenly felt even more fatigued probably from the low iron levels. Knowing that you should probably get some nuts or something from the kitchen. But all you can do is wince in pain, as it feels like someone is holding a sharp knife inside your stomach and every time you attempt to turn they twist the knife to cause more pain. 

“Baby?” You can hear John’s voice but you can’t process him speaking to you and breathing through the pain. Finally the pain subsides and you answer a very frantic looking John. 

“Yeah.” answering a little more weakly than you would have liked. 

“Can you tell me what hurts baby?” His brown eyes look so soft, full of care and also worry for you. His arms are going under your hoodie to attempt to deeply rub your stomach. His care made you want to cry because how can this boy be so caring. 

“Nothing, just my stomach. And I think my iron levels are low.” attempting to softly smile at your caring boyfriend but the worrisome look he’s giving you back, your smile must have looked more like you were in pain. 

“What do you need? Do you need to go to the hospital? Do you want me to grab your heating pad for the pain? You should probably be drinking more fluids love, can I get you some water?” generally asking.

“No, they aren’t gonna do anything. I have some painkillers in the kitchen and some nuts that should help with my iron levels. If you want my heating pad on my bed but you don’t have to, I can get up and grab it and the nuts.” As you go to get up, he gently places you back on the couch. 

“You must be really sick if you think I’m letting you leave this coach.” He says, leaving a kiss on your cheek and half climbing over you, half pushing you off of him. 

“What am I supposed to do when I need to go to the bathroom?” you yell to him as he disappears to go into the kitchen. 

“We will cross that bridge when we get to it.” He yells back in between the slamming of a ton of cabinets trying to find what he was looking for. 

A small chuckle leaves your lips at how demanding John is that you need to stay on the coach. “Johnny, we're gonna get to that point in a few minutes.” you tease him, although you are getting to that point where you need to change your pad. 

“Okay baby hold on.” He comes back with every single type of nut that you had in the cabinet; peanuts, mixed nuts, cashews, even peanut butter and a giant glass of ice water. Putting everything on your coffee table. 

He bent down so his eyes were on the same level as yours and he didn’t tower over you as you laid on your side on the coach. “Do you wanna go to the bathroom now or do you want me to go grab the heating pad and we can cuddle?” he softly asked, as his hand went to your hip and squeezed it while he waited for your answer. 

“Bathroom.” you whisper, slowly making your way to sitting up again.

“Okay will you please eat something first to help your lightheadedness, I don’t want you to pass out or something.” biting his lips is a nervous habit he picked up years ago back in his prep school years, a clear sign that he was having anxious thoughts due to your physical state. 

Now fully sitting up, you nodded your head no. “Johnny, I need to go to the bathroom.” your stern voice leaving no room for debate. John only let out a sigh as he turned around on the balls of his feet, now his back facing you. 

“Hop on baby.” he says he turns his head to try to make eye contact with you still at this odd angle. 

“What?” letting out a breath that could have passed for a giggle and a sigh mixed together. “I can walk Johnny.” 

“Baby please.” almost sounding like a whine. He continued softly “please let me take care of you.” he begged. 

“Okay.” Putting either leg on Johnny’s he stood up, walking you to the master bathroom. Softly he placed you on your feet when you got there. Quickly leaving so you could use the bathroom. Once you were done everything you needed to, you were leaving the bathroom, expecting to make it back to the living room where you expected John to be. 

But instead as you opened the bathroom door, you saw that John put all the nuts he got earlier, and your glass of water on a tray and it was now sitting on your bedside table on your side of the bed. He was currently turning on your heating pad for you, his back turned to you. 

Out of pure shock at how he was acting you gasped, it was enough for him to turn around in a second, practically leaping towards you asking “baby please can you tell me what hurts?” His arms closing around you pulling you towards him. 

“Nothing” you whispered. “Nothing at all. I just have never had someone care this much is all.” Holding onto him as tight as you could to attempt to share how grateful you were for your boyfriend. 

“Well get used to it.” he whispered in your ear, gently lifting you up and carrying you to the bed. “Please eat some nuts, and if you feel any worse I am taking you to the hospital.” 

“John, they aren’t going to do anything.” Not trying to pick a fight with him, but rather tell him what you already knew, even if your tone came out sounding a little condescending. 

“You don't do that Y/N.” he tried to counter argue but all you did was bring your hand to your face and pinch the skin on the bridge of your nose, trying to rub off the frustration that was starting to build up again. 

“Yes I do.” Slightly raising your voice, despite the fact that John was sitting right next to you on the edge of the bed. “This happens every single year okay. My body gets used to my birth control, I sometimes end up in the ER, occasionally for a blood transfusion an-” Johnny cuts you off before you can even finish the ‘and.’

“A WHAT?” His voice is much louder than it has been all night. “We are going to the ER, you are weak and lightheaded, and your period has been here for two weeks. What's that 14 days, you need medical attention.” 

A sigh leaves your lips as you explain to your very caring boyfriend again how they aren’t going to do anything. “Okay I only needed a transfusion once, and I usually don’t go to the ER till I hit 30 days okay. And it’s not like they give me medicine to stop it. I have to go to my doctor for that, but she’s booked up for a few weeks. It’ll be fine.” Trying to reach for him not sure if it’s to bring him comfort or yourself. “ Johnny, will you come lay with me?” Seeing his beautiful brown eyes soften. “Please” you beg, knowing you probably sound pathetic but you didn’t know if he was mad at you, thinking he could be because you said no to the hospital, still navigating the dynamics of your almost 7 month relationship. 

Nodding his head, he finally slips his shoes off not having time earlier he just realized due to worrying about you. He climbs over, turns on his side facing you and brings his hand to your cheek as you face him. 

“Hi” he whispers. “better y/n/n?” as he still lays over the covers. 

“I wish you could get closer.” you shyly admit. 

“What? Do you wanna lay on top of me baby all you had to do was ask.” Kissing you gently and pulling you on top of him. 

“No I can’t.” trying to get off of him.

“What do you want Y/N” sounding confused but also sighing, probably getting a little frustrated at the scatteredness of your mind tonight. 

“I wanna lay on top of you, but I-.” Taking a deep breath you deepen your face into his shoulder. As quiet as a mouse you spoke, “I’m scared of bleeding through my pad during the night. I don’t wanna get blood on you.” 

“It’s okay baby girl.” 

“No it’s not.” speaking at a normal tone. 

“Y/N. I am telling you that it’s okay, if you want we can use the towel I saw when I was turning your heating pad on.” 

“You saw that.” Almost sounding like you were close to tears, you face now in his neck, too scared to pull away because he would definitely see the embarrassment written all over your face. 

“Hey hey shh honey.” wrapping his arms around you, bringing you comfort for the first time since you exited your bathroom. “Please just let me love you for tonight.” he confessed as he attempted to kiss as if your face wasn't hiding. Shaking your head, yes that’s exactly what he did, turning off your heating pad. He spent the night whispering random little stories into your ear until you fell asleep, John not far behind you as the tiredness of the day lured him to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finally today was the day of your doctor’s appointment with your gynecologist. Sadly, it had gotten to the point where you had to call out of work yesterday, because you felt so weak. It felt as if your body was rejecting you, the blood clots that were passing were huge and you felt sick to your stomach. Johnny has been staying at your place for the last week because “ I can’t leave you alone when you're like this Y/N.” So he just came home from morning skate to find you still curled in bed, half consciousness, craving sleep that just wasn’t coming. He practically shoved the phone in your hand to call out. Thankfully you had taken today off because of your appointment because there was no way you would have made it into work today. Slowly getting up to eat something and take a shower before you had to leave, surprised to open your bedroom door and hear the T.V in the living room softly playing along with what smelt like breakfast. Finally begrudgingly making your way into your kitchen you were shocked to see Johnny at the stove making breakfast. 

“Johnny, I thought you had practice.” as you softly pad your feet over to him wrapping your arms around his bare stomach, resting your head on the back of his shoulder blade. 

“I did but your appointment is today.” Speaking in a confident tone, like he didn’t need to be anywhere else. 

“okay..” Questioning your boyfriend's logic but before you could ask any questions he turns around and responds. 

“Listen you have been feeling like actual shit for weeks and I wanna support you by being there. Plus I don’t want you driving after yesterday.” Speaking in a comforting tone, it made you want to cry because you’ve never had someone care so much about why your menstrual cycle was so out of whack. 

“Okay.”

“Oh okay go sit down baby. I made you breakfast.” excited about his creation even though you couldn’t see it. “I woke up early today, to read about foods that are high in iron to help you before we find out what’s wrong. So I had eggs and then I had a spinach salad. And before you start, just eat some of the salad baby. I know you hate raw spinach but I made a dressing that’s supposed to be good and-” Finally looking over to you with your plate in his hand to see tears in your eyes. 

“Oh no babes.” Rushing over to where you were sitting on the bar, abandoning both plates of food in the kitchen. Carefully taking the pads of his thumbs to rub comforting circles on your cheeks and wipe any tears. “baby can you tell me what hurts?” The worry in his eyes so evident as he looked down at you. 

“Nothing.” you choke out, pulling John closer to you to almost standing between your legs as you sit in the breakfast bar chair. 

“Y/N/N I can’t fix ‘nothing.” softly chuckling, he whispered the next words so soft you barely heard him. “Why are you crying honey?” 

Finally removing yourself in the comfort of his chest, “ it’s just no one has ever cared like you before.” Looking up at him. 

“Well you better get used to it baby girl. Cause I’m gonna be here until you don’t want me anymore which I pray never happens.” Both of you share a soft smile, as he glances at your lips and gently leans in to share a gentle kiss.  

John stayed with you the entire day, even at the doctor's office holding your hand as the doctor was explaining how the ultrasound worked to see if you did have any cysts on your ovaries. The doctor was in the middle of asking him to step out so they could do the test, but you just tighten in his grip. “I am not leaving unless Y/N wants me to.” he states. 

“I want him to stay please.” your voice shaking from the level of anxiety you felt in the pit in your stomach. “Please Dr. Smith” your eyes pleading with the middle age white woman. 

“Okay Y/N. The tech will be in any minute okay.” softly speaking trying not to raise your anxiety any higher. John held your hand the entire internal ultrasound whispering in your ear how proud you were doing, even though it was definitely adding to the pain you felt. He held your hand the entire way home. He didn’t say a word, just kept rubbing his thumb over your hand. All you did was stare out the window, your mind replaying the words of your doctor. 

“Well as you know Y/N this could be a couple of different things, you could have PCOS - now what kind we would have to figure out. You could have some other type of hormonal disorder and I can recommend you to a hormonal doctor. But either way Y/N I am going to be honest, based on your previous scans and bloodwork it will be very hard for you to have children one day.” Her eyes went soft out of compassion but all you could think about was how compassionate could they be when you were probably the 100th woman she ever told this to. 

“What’s the percent?” you whisper, your eyes reducing to look at John. Your relationship many be new but you didn’t want anyone else but him and you knew he wanted children. 

“It’s hard to say, we will have to wait for new scans to come in.” Dr. Smith says, as she stadn to exit the room. 

Now in the car staring at the window you let the tears fall, you might have never known if you ever wanted kids before John. But once you met him, you knew you wanted to and the fact that something that you might not have even wanted until a few months ago may never be a possibility makes your silent tears turn into a sob as John parks the car in your apartment’s underground parking garage. He turns off his car, as he buckles his seatbelt and turns to you. But you refuse to look at him, you didn’t want comfort from the man whose dreams of becoming a father you might have just shattered. 

“Y/N.” you could hear John’s scared begging voice, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to turn to him. “Y/N please don’t shut me out.” he whispered, his voice strained with pain that was the final straw that broke you turning your head. John’s head was leaning against the headrest as he looked at you, his brown eyes even darker filled with emotion. After a few minutes of you refusing to speak to him, he asked you a simple question. “Baby do you trust me?” as he leaned closer to you, as if he was on the edge of his seat. Shaking your head, yes, it was as if your body moved in an instant. Struggling to see through your tears, all you could feel was John unbuckle your seatbelt and pull you over the middle console, pushing his seat back as far as it went. Somehow you fit in the small space that was left in his lap. Both of you lost track of time, but eventually you calmed down playing with the strings of John’s hoodie, as he put one of his hands under the back of your shirt drawing random shapes on your skin. 

“Hey Johnny?” Finally feeling like you can speak despite the rawness of your voice and the scratchiness of your throat. 

“Yeah baby?” he whispers, scared that if his voice goes above a whisper you will start pulling away from him like a few minutes ago. 

“Please don’t leave me.” Putting your face as deep as it goes in the crock of his neck. 

“What?” he breaths out. “Why would you even think that?” His hands suddenly squeeze you tighter, almost as if he started becoming scared that if his grip on you wasn’t tight you would slip through his fingers. 

“I can’t be a mom and you wanna be a dad.” Although the logic made perfect sense in your brain all John could do at your confession is scrunch his eyebrows together. 

“Again what?” His hand that was resting on your thigh moving you guided your face to look at him. 

“You really wanna have kids one day but you heard the doctor what if I can’t.” you admit your fear and all it does is give you more anxiety as you await an answer from John.

“Baby is that why you’re upset?” A big smile breaking out on his face, his toothless grin as you nod your head yes. “Baby I have always said I wanted KIDS with YOU. I didn’t even have kids on the radar until that family skate where I saw you with all my teammates kids’. I never even thought about and the idea of leaving you fuck no.” Both his heads going to hold your face. 

“And baby I am pretty sure I said I wanted to have kids one day with you. If we have trouble getting pregant we can do IVF okay. And if that doesn’t work we can adopt I don’t care if our children are biologically ours or not. I just wanna raise kids with you ONE DAY, not today.” John finishes his speech and all you can do is say okay and as you crash your lips in a kiss as a thank you to him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A Few Weeks later…..

John held your hand the entire time in the waiting room while your doctor read your results, he practically held you when you went back to the room for the results of your updated bloodwork and ultrasound. The nerves of what was the possible next step was getting to you, you couldn’t stop your leg from shaking. John gently put the palm of his hand on your knee as a gentle reminder that you aren’t alone in this. 

Eventually Dr.Smith walked in, she told you that it was very obvious through your ultrasound that you had PCOS and she found it odd that no one had diagnosed you up to this point. She did tell you that unfortunately there was no cure which you already knew. She spent the next 30 minutes in your room, not answering your questions but John’s. When she told John that a Mediterranean diet was best for women with PCOS he immediately went to Amazon. He lightly demanded that Dr.Smith tell him which cookbooks were the best and from that moment on you didn’t really cook. John always cooked for you or with you, he even changed to a mediterranean diet. Johnny would always make sure he had made plenty of meals that you could easily heat up, or dinners that he froze that you could eat when he was on long roadies. 

Johnny always took care of you, of your intense cycles, crazy mood swings, special diet, working out with you. Although he stopped when he realized you couldn’t stop undressing him with your eyes. Johnny was with you the entire way, you felt relief not only because you had a name for what was happening to you. But because you had a support system within John for the crazy rollercoaster that you were on due to having PCOS. 

Every single day, you find yourself being even more grateful for listening to Johnny all those weeks ago when he asked you if you would just “let me love you.”

[the-s1lly-corner]

Cuddling w/ various HH characters 1/?

Writing this first part in a rush so if theres more typos and stuff than usual uhuhuh I apologize! Tackling a handful of characters and will do more later! Some hcs may sound familiar, due to me already writing cuddling hcs for fluff alphabet stuff! Not sure who I've already written though and even then I'm writing without rereading old stuff we are living silly

Characters: Charlie, Vaggie, Alastor, Angel Dust, Pentious, Husk

Notes: reader is GN, can be read as either romantic or platonic. Assume reader is fem for vaggie and masc for angel if reading as romantic

CWs: none

Charlie

Shes very warm! Shes like your personal heater! If you guys are cuddling in her bed you guys are soooooo cozy and comfy, shes got the best bedding! A little shy about some forms of PDA but nuzzling up to her on the couch in the common areas is fine! Loves nestling her head against your shoulder 8/10

Vaggie

On the opposite end, vaggie is very cold physically.. a bit muscular due to her days as a fighter, as well as seemingly keeping up at least a bit since her fall. Tense when cuddling, and let's you take the lead and rest how you want. It's not like she doesnt want to cuddle you shes just.. inexperienced and doesnt know exactly what you want unless you two are very close 6/10 shes got the spirit though!

Alastor

Average body temperature if not a little on the cooler side. Only let's you cuddle with him because you two are close and comfortable with each other. Despite this cuddling isnt a very common occurrence. While not technically cuddling, he will let you rest yourself on his back and shoulders while he sits and works on something. You better feel special, if you were anyone else you would be torn apart 4/10

Angel Dust

Warm soft and cozy thanks to his fluff! Let's you rest your head on his chest- though he ready for him to make a comment or two if you guys are a couple.. his extra arms come in handy with holding someone, so theres a bonus there! Does your hair sometimes when you two are huddled up together though it depends on the mood and the positions 7/10

Pentious

Oh poor.. poor boy... doesnt know where to put his hands- if you two are just friends he doesnt want you to get any wrong ideas. But if you guys are dating he doesnt want to put his hands in the wrong place and make you uncomfortable. His nerves make him a little slimy.. not the best.. cold but does warm up from your own body heat so HOORAY! Hes not going to be freezing for long! Wraps his tail around you if you're comfortable with it, it makes you feel secure.. 6/10

Husk

Soft, thanks to his fur! Sure it's a little.. eeeuugh...in terms of feel.. but maybe you can convince him to take better care of himself. Smells strongly of alcohol so it can be a little overwhelming if you're not used to it. Not much of a cuddler, though. So he doesnt cuddle with anyone often 5.5/10

[areyouwell]

Necrophobia

Noun: An extreme and irrational fear of death. Those with this condition will do anything to avoid their own death or the death of somebody they love. But in the end, death is inevitable.

Ch.8, Ch.7, Ch.6, Ch.5.5, Ch.5, Ch.4, Ch.3, Ch.2, Ch.1 <–

Ch.9

Pairing: Mutant!Reader x Logan Howlet

Warnings: strap in and strap on folks, it's gonna be a long one... MDNI

Word Count: 29.7k (y'all wanted this as one chapter sooooo)

A/N: i actually can't believe this is it. like, this is the end of Phobophobia... how crazy is that? thank you all so much for the love and support on this series, it's been a while since i got back into fic writing so it means so much that you've all been reading along. i read and cherish every single one of your comments and reblogs, and now the only thing left to say is LET'S. FUCKING. GO.

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

It would be two days later before you and Morgana could convince Erin there was no threat here, and that she was safe. Another day for her to be comfortable enough to let Charles come anywhere near her, let alone bring her memories back. 

“Give her time, darlin’. She’s terrified.” Logan would remind you, only to fuel your frustration. You didn’t have time. You needed her help to get Rowan and the others back, and the longer she refused to restore her memories, the more danger he was in. 

You sighed heavily after the umpteenth time Logan reminded you, leaning on the balcony overlooking the gardens. He’d found you pacing back and forth, clearly trying to remind yourself that Erin was just how you were before you had your memories. She was scared and alone and you didn’t know how to convince her she wasn’t. Erin was never your speciality. Atlas usually could get through to her, but he was still with Kreva, like Rowan, Joes and Naji.

Logan took his position by your side, leaning his forearms against the stone wall of the balcony, his bicep brushing against yours as you leaned your head on his shoulder, exhaling a breath. “I know she is. We all were. But fuck, this is taking too long, Lo’. We haven’t even started planning for the mission and it’s already been too long. I just…” you trailed off, gazing into the middle distance as your mind wandered back to your brother. He would always seem so big and protective outside the experiments, but you couldn’t count how many times you had to act out to protect him when the white, overhead lights hummed to life in those observation chambers. How many times had you taken the hits for him, just for him to be used against you as persuasion? 

Logan’s arm lifted to wrap around your shoulders, tucking you safely into his side. “I know, but Kreva won’t kill him. If anything, he’ll use him as bait to lure you back.” The idea had his stomach churning, because there was very little that could convince you to return other than to save Rowan, and he was almost certain that’s why Kreva sent Joes to retrieve just him. Because the bastard knew you wouldn’t leave him behind. He knew you’d go back for him. If it was just Naji, Joes and Atlas, perhaps you would trust their rescue to the rest of the team. But Rowan was your brother. Your flesh and blood. He’d been with you since the start.

You weren’t going to abandon him. Everyone knew that. 

“Would you lock me away if I said it would work?” You asked with a half-hearted smile, and he pressed a lingering kiss to your temple, rubbing his hand against your shoulder. 

“Most likely.” He responded, revelling in your little bubbles of laughter. Just the weight of his arm around you was enough to ease some of the anxiety that had been your constant companion since waking up, the ever-present fear of what was going on beyond the walls of the school keeping you up at night. But Jade was right about one thing. 

You weren’t alone. Not anymore. Almost every waking moment Logan was by your side, keeping a watchful eye and jumping at the opportunity to provide for you. His warm embrace kept you sane even into the wee hours of the morning, never failing to stay awake with you when you had trouble sleeping. And these last few nights hadn’t been the most restful of your life. 

He could see it. Just how exhausted you were. You still had to regain the muscle you’d lost in the last two months, but that wasn’t what concerned him most. It was the dark purple bruises beneath your eyes that had him staying up with you, stroking your hair and engaging in murmured conversations until you’d finally fall asleep. Only to wake up an hour or so later, and take yet another lifetime to fall back asleep, by which point it was already morning and time for the two of you to start the day.

It was how he’d spent the last two nights with you, with you settled against his chest, staring at nothing in particular, talking about absolutely anything. It was a delicious slice of normalcy, certainly, but it worried him how little you were sleeping. And how hard you were training to get back to your muscular physique of before. He hadn’t seen you cook once, either. Though he supposed it had only been a few days, and it wasn’t like you had buckets of time to spare, between your lack of sleep, nutrition and overexerting yourself…

He didn’t really know what to do. What issue to tackle first. 

“You think any louder and Charles is gonna wonder what the hell’s going on,” you prodded lightly, nudging his side with your elbow. “How’re you holding up? We’ve spoken a shit ton about me but now it’s your turn,” Logan opened his mouth to tell you it didn’t matter, but you instantly cut him off, a glare sharpening your typical gaze of adoration. “And don’t lie. I mean it, Lo’. Let me in.” You placed a hand on the centre of his chest and he sighed heavily, clutching it in his own calloused palm.

“No lies?” He asked with a raised brow as if asking whether or not you really wanted this.

“No lies.” Your determined nod solidified that you were there for him, that you wanted to know how he was doing in the vague, possibly slightly selfish hope that it would make you feel a little better, or that perhaps there was a way you could help in some way, which would also make you feel better. 

“Total honesty?”

“Logan!”

“Okay, okay,” he huffed a laugh at your incredulous tone. He was stalling, to be completely honest. He didn’t want to open up about how this whole thing had affected him because he was so damn scared of making you feel worse, or, god fucking forbid, that you weren’t worth it. But he also knew you couldn’t stand lies. You’d had enough of those in your life, so the one thing he could give you now was honesty. Raw, weeping honesty. “I uh– It’s rare that I’m scared of anythin’. It’s happened, sure, but not often,” he ran a hand through his hair, and your thumb smoothed soft caresses against the centre of his chest. “But I don’t think I’ve been more afraid than when I thought I’d lost you for good,” his words came out a jumbled, murmured mess, but you caught them nonetheless. “An’ this ain’t over yet. We gotta go back for the others and ‘m fuckin’ terrified it’s a trap.”

“Logan…” you breathed his name with a sigh, resting your cheek next to the hand you held over his heart. His arms encased you in a home of pine-scented sinew, warmth seeping into your very bones.

“I don’t wanna lose you.” He whispered into your hair, and your heart cracked a little.

“I can’t say you won’t, because I don’t know what’s going to happen and I don’t wanna lie to you. I don’t know what we’ll find when we go back or how things will go down,” you paused, raising your head so your chin pressed into the dip between his pectorals. “But I can say, it’s certainly not my intention to die sooooo–”

“That makes me feel so much better.” He rolled his eyes, sarcasm dripping from his tone as the vibrations of your laughter invaded his chest, causing a chain reaction within his soul. 

You let the hushed silence of the clouded late afternoon blanket the two of you, content to bask in his presence after being deprived for so long. He was everything to you. He’d been by your side ever since you’d laid eyes on each other, even if you weren’t the easiest person to get to open up. He’d forgiven you for lashing out. He’d forgiven you for trying to kill him. He’d forgiven you for everything you’d done before. You didn’t think there was anything you wouldn’t do for him, and his actions towards you proved the same. 

“Besides,” you continued after a little while, flexing your fingers ever so slightly, the shadows on the ground responding with obedience you hadn’t experienced in a long time. “I got all corners of my mutation back, so I’d like to see Kreva try anything, the sleazy little fuckstick.” From the silhouette of the balcony rose one of those figures Logan had seen you conjure in your sleep, though this time it wasn’t looking at you with any kind of intention. Rather it seemed to be waiting for your command, standing unnervingly still, shadows rising like smoke from its corporeal body. 

“That’s one less thing to worry ‘bout. Not gonna wake up to you having dissolved on me.” He shrugged, watching intently as the figure raised its hand ominously toward the two of you. Logan bristled, holding you tighter and turning you slightly, his teeth bared. He thought you had control of your mutation now, why the fuck was it–

That extended fist rotated to the side before giving him a thumbs up. 

“Gotcha.” You grinned wickedly, the figure dissipating back into the shadows and Logan looked down at you with utter disbelief, the smirking satisfaction on your face singing to his very core. Wordlessly, he picked you up, delighting in your squeal of surprise, holding you suspended above him like he would a misbehaving puppy. 

“Jail time.” Was all he said, holding you firmly as you squirmed in his grip, breathless bubbles of laughter bursting from your chest.

“Put– put me down, Logan. M’not– a dog.” You managed to gasp through fits of giggling, reaching down to hold his arms to steady yourself. 

“I could just drop ya.” He mused, unable to stem the smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

“Don’t you dare.” It was tricky to glare at him when thrilled adrenaline coursed through your system and you could barely stop laughing. Logan quirked a brow, pretending to debate whether or not it was a good idea to just let you go and watch you hit the floor, before his slight smirk grew to a full-blown grin, and his hands disappeared from your body.

You barely had a second to register your stomach launching into your throat, a frisson of excitement spiking through your system as you lurched down. Though you didn’t fall far until his arms caught you beneath your thighs, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, elbows hooked around his neck.

“Gotcha.” He mimicked your exact tone from not moments ago, and you huffed a breath against the side of his neck, still clinging on. Not out of fear he would drop you, but just because you could. You were here, you were back, and you remembered every perfect detail of the eight months you’d spent with him before Kreva snatched you away.

Withdrawing from the side of his neck, you brushed a stray dark hair from his forehead, glowing as he leant into your touch, your hand sliding to cup the side of his face, fingers gently scratching through his beard, drinking in every peak and valley of his features, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the quirk of his lips, the pinch of his brows. You devoured his visage as if it were the first time you laid eyes upon him. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He murmured, and you felt your heart swell three times its size. You didn’t know just how badly you’d missed him. Only since waking up again did you feel an empty ache in your chest in the rare moments he wasn’t by your side, only feeling whole again when he returned. It was overwhelming, your sheer love for him, your insides squeezing to make room for the remarkable amount of adoration you held for him. 

Logan panicked slightly when your eyes started to sparkle with unshed tears, fearful he may have said the wrong thing, or something that reminded you of the two months with him you’d just lost, but his heart settled when your lips moulded against his, your thumb smoothing his cheekbone with every languid movement. He held you tighter, his arms crushing you against his body as if at any moment he’d wake up, you’d be gone, and this was nothing but a dream. 

But you didn’t disappear, not as your lips parted for him and you sighed into his mouth, your arm shifting back around his neck to meet him with equal strength, your nails combing the back of his hair soothingly as if you could read his mind just as easily as Charles or Jean, feeling his fears and reminding him you were here. You were back. And you weren’t leaving him anytime soon. 

Pulling back a fraction, your breaths fanned his lips with each exhale, before your hushed words had his whole world igniting.

“I love you, Logan.” Your eyes shone with earnest as his gaze flickered between them as if searching for the indication that this really was nothing but a dream. 

He thought he’d have to die before he heard those words again. 

Fearful that his voice would crack if he responded, he set you down so he could thread his fingers through your hair and kiss you again with as much love as he felt in his soul, gasping through his nose when your fingers grazed up the sides of his ribs, muscles tensing beneath your tickling touch. 

“Sorry to interrupt your disgusting display of a happy relationship,” Logan almost growled in irritation at the sudden intrusion, reluctantly pulling away from you to raise eyes of daggers at Morgana’s smirking face, her arms folded across her chest as if she’d just caught two teenagers making out behind the bleachers at school. “But we’re gonna try again with Erin, not to convince her of anything, just to talk to her. Need your help,” she paused, gesturing to the both of you. “If you’re all done here, that is.”

You snorted a laugh at Logan’s irate furrow of his brow, and you knew it was taking a lot of his self-control not to bare his damn teeth at her. You placed a placating hand against the centre of his chest, feeling is heartbeat settle a tad before nodding to the redhead. “Sure thing. I’ll be right there.”

Satisfied with your answer, Morgana cast one last faux disgusted glance in the minimal space between you and Logan, before turning on her heel, her hair bouncing as she returned back inside. 

“The hell you will,” he seethed, his grip shifting from the side of your neck to your waist, holding you tightly. You flashed him a crooked smile, patting his chest gently.

“I doubt it’ll be a long conversation. Besides, I’ll see you for dinner, kay?”

“You’ll see me before dinner, darlin’.” 

“Is that a threat or a promise?” Your smile twisted into something a lot more mischievous, and Logan almost groaned aloud at the thought of what he’s now definitely going to do to you later.

“Why can’t it be both?” He responded, matching the lust dusting your tone. You bit your tongue behind your teeth, taking a step back before you cracked beneath his gaze and offered yourself to him then and there.

“You’re filthy, Howlett.”

“You love it.”

With a subdued chuckle, you turned away from him intending to follow Morgana to help her with Erin, before Logan’s broad hand wrapped around your wrist and tugged you back into him, not even giving you time to blink before his lips were on your in a lingering, passionate kiss. 

“I love you too.” He whispered, and you didn’t even try to tame your smile before he let you go, choosing to stay out in the fresh air a little longer, mainly to cool himself off. You had such a gift in riling him up that it was always difficult to hold himself back when he couldn’t have his way with you, so he opted to remain outside, erasing the risk of following you and throwing you over his shoulder to take you upstairs. 

“See you in a bit.” You pecked the corner of his mouth briefly before actually managing to get more than two steps away from him, the buzz of anticipation fading in your veins as you headed back through the doors inside, only half expecting him to race after you and do exactly what he promised.

“Surprised I could pull you away from your man for longer than three seconds.” Morgana grinned as you strode down the hallway, seeing her waiting outside Erin’s room, leaning against the doorframe with her arms still folded. You rolled your eyes dramatically.

“We’re not joined at the hip, but I was robbed of the last two months with him so excuse me if I’m a little clingy.” You shot her a faux glare, cut short by the way her face split with a toothy grin. 

“I’m messing with you. It’s real nice actually. I only ever saw snippets of you like this with Jade before you’d revert back to whatever emotionless shell you needed to be so I’m not complaining. Just jealous he got there before I did,” she winked and you slapped her arm with a light chuckle. 

This was the usual dynamic between you and Morgana, having lighthearted, occasionally flirty banter whilst living your ‘lives’ until you’d be taken for experiments. It was rare Kreva would take the both of you, but when he did, you always gave him one hell of a fight back. 

Maybe that was why he would usually separate the two of you. “So,” you continued, leaning opposite her against the doorframe. “What’s the plan this time? Since the last fifty conversations with her haven't worked, you got a new special approach? Or is this just gonna be failure number fifty-one?” 

Morgana placed a hand on her heart dramatically, her mouth falling agape as if you’d just insulted her meticulously preened appearance. “Okay, first of all, we’ve only tried like, what, five times max? Second of all, did you really think I’d drag you from your boyfriend for no reason and risk waking up with several claws stuck in my stomach? Fuck no. Of course I have a plan…” She paused, and you narrowed your eyes suspiciously. “Or… I will have a plan. When I think of one.”

“Morgo…” you sighed tiredly, dragging a hand down the side of your face. 

“Look, I can’t do this by myself. If Atlas was here, we could just hand this whole thing over to him and be done with it. But he’s not here, and we need Erin’s help to get him back. And Rowan. And Naji and Joes. And we don’t exactly have a cheat code when it comes to her like we did with you.”

“The fuck do you mean ‘cheat code’?” you asked defensively, a little insulted at the way she looked at you as if it was obvious. “Oh Logan is not a cheat code, that’s so unfair!” you protested avidly, pouting when she gave you another one of her looks. 

“We can talk about your complete lack of self-awareness at a later date,” you had half the mind to slap the girl. “And about the fact you somehow managed to back one of the most gorgeous men I’ve ever seen in my life. Your descriptions did not do him justice, by the way.” She wiggled her brows and you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Can you stop thirsting over my partner, please?”

“What’s sex with him like?”

“Morgo!”

“Okay okay, I’ll stop,” she held her hands up in surrender, though her wicked grin didn’t fade in any way. “Fucking gatekeeping, so mean. Throw a girl a bone here… literally.”

“Oh my god.” You groaned, pushing up from the wall to slap your hand over her mouth. Unfortunately, she anticipated and nimbly stepped back before you could even approach her. 

“I can hear you guys outside… if you’re going to come in just do it already,” Erin called from behind the door. The poor girl sounded utterly exhausted, and your heart broke as you imagined her inside, most likely curled up in a corner, surrounded by nothing but hard, dead wood. Useless for her mutation. 

You cast Morgana a sheepish glance, an expression she mirrored, before unlocking the door and stepping through a little hesitantly. They’d made special precautions with her the same way they had with you. A lack of windows meant she had no sightline to the copious greenery beyond the mansion’s walls. All and any plant life had been removed from the room just to make absolutely certain she had no way of escape. It hurt, but you knew it was necessary. 

Necessary evils. How many times have you heard that phrase and genuinely believed it?

“Hey Woods…” Morgana uttered quietly, hoping in vain not to startle the girl. Not that either of you had even seen her yet. She seemed to be hiding somewhere amongst the furniture, or maybe under the bed. It hadn’t been the first time she’d hidden from either of you. “We don’t wanna try convince you of anything. We just wanna chat…” she continued warily, creeping around the side of the bed to where you both assumed she’d curled up. “We’re your friends, Erin. We don’t wanna– huh?”

Morgana stopped when she peered around the double bed to see nothing but empty space. You sidled into the ensuite, nudging open the door a fraction only to once again be met with nothing. “Erin, where’re you–”

You were cut off by the sound of hurrying feet behind you, the slamming of the door, and the click of the lock, barely having enough time to whirl around before you registered your absolute idiocy. 

“You’re fucking joking…” Morgana spat, crossing back to the door Erin had just locked behind her. “Very funny Woods, glad to see you’re feeling better. Now let us out.” She huffed, trying not to let her irritation seep through her voice. Though nothing but silence greeted her from the other side. Morgana tugged at the door a few times, but the oak refused to yield. Defeatedly, she took a step back, throwing you an apologetic glance, before her foot collided with the centre of the panels.

“Fucking ow!” She recoiled to your inappropriate amusement. She shot you a look darker than before. “I’m not the brawler okay? I don’t tackle shit as strong as this.” 

Rolling your eyes skyward, you flicked off the light switch before placing a hand on her shoulder wordlessly. Morgana’s eyes widened as panic flooded her face. “Nononono I hate it when you do this. Can’t you just sift outta here and unlock the door for me?” She pleaded, already skittish before you’d even partially dragged her into the shadow with you.

“Nope. Don’t have the time. It’ll only be two seconds. Promise.” You actually had no idea how long it was going to be, seeing as most of the mansion was drenched it light around this time of the afternoon, but you knew which room this was. And you knew the room above it. 

And it was rare that the room had much light in it at all. 

Not giving her a word of warning, you kept a firm grip on her shoulder as you pulled the both of you into the shadows, pulling on the strings of darkness to keep her consciousness with your own.

With the corporeal world nothing but the stark contrast between light and shadow, you felt your way upwards, through the little cracks between the ceiling and the floor above, weaving up through the crevices in the floorboards. You weren’t expecting the room to have so little options for where to materialise again, your consciousness writhing with the surprise of the bedside lamp being on. But you chose the dark corner by the wardrobe, pulling both yourself and Morgana through the various shadows across the floor and into the sizeable darkness against the wall. 

“Jesus Christ!” 

The last Logan had heard, you’d followed Morgana in the hopes of convincing Erin she wasn’t in any danger here. So he couldn’t contain the shock you gave him when you melted into his room from the corner, a dishevelled-looking redhead by your side. Were you trying to kill him? 

“Nope, just me. Sorry Lo’, didn’t mean to scare ya.” Though from the subdued grin pulling at your lips, he knew you definitely found no small amount of amusement in taking him off guard. 

You managed to suppress your light chuckle at his incredulous expression, choosing instead to tend to your friend who seemed to be struggling majorly with a bad case of motion sickness.

“Ugh… I don’t understand how you do that so often… I think I’d off myself if that was my mutation…” she managed to grit, holding her stomach as if she was about to throw up. You pointed her toward the bathroom just in case as Logan stood from his extremely comfortable position on his bed.

“Though you were talkin’ some sense into Erin. What went wrong?” His first instinct was that, immediately upon entering the room, Erin had most likely thrown something at the two of you and you’d retreated to rethink a strategy.

Though the silence after his query was deafening.

“She uh, she got out.”

Oh. Nevermind. This was a deafening silence. Logan swore he could hear your blood cells in your veins the room fell so quiet. “Whaddya mean ‘she got out’?” 

“Oldest trick in the book. One of the ones I tried and failed on you. Told us to come in, hid behind the door and bolted when we were far enough in the room.” You explained flatly, lifting Morgana’s hair from the back of her neck in an attempt to stem her queasiness. 

Logan swore lowly, instinctively checking you for injuries despite the fact you’d just reformed yourself from the shadow. He couldn’t stop himself. “Does Charles know?”

“The whole mansion will know in a moment. If she’s managed to get outside, it’s only a matter of time until–”

Almost as if Morgana was speaking the circumstance into existence, the entire room started to shake. No. Not just the room. The whole school seemed to shudder and groan, the sound of splitting wood resonating throughout the hallways and dorms, and you dragged Morgana back as a huge, knotted vine bloomed up from the corner, leaves sprouting as the vegetation started its takeover of the space. 

“Shit…” You hissed, bolting to the window and seeing the cause of the destruction. Greenery thrived around Erin, her arms outstretched towards the mansion, dolphin-fins of roots rising and resubmerging into the ground toward the building, veins of gnarled ivy spiderwebbing up the outside of the walls, sneaking in through the cracks between windowpanes and brickwork, before growing exponentially. The realisation hit you like a ton of bricks. 

She was trying to bring down the school. 

You flipped up the latch of the window before throwing open the panes and shoving your head through the leaves, your skin itching slightly as you realised it was no regular ivy. Not with the three-lobed points on most leaves, the slightly waxy texture of the surface. It was fucking poisonous. 

Of course it was.

You managed to set your jaw against the instant discomfort, pushing your way through until you could see the ground beneath. Shrouded in shadow. Good enough for you. You pulled back, only to feel a slight constriction against your throat from a snaking vine around your neck. You hissed at it tightened, flexing your tendons as if you could break free with sheer strength alone. But you succeeded only in tightening its hold, your airways becoming dangerously closed off. Thrusting your arms back through the new forest of the window, you held out your hand in desperation, instantly feeling the rough, calloused palm of Logan grasping your wrist.

You hadn’t given him time to ask what the hell you thought you were doing before you’d been completely shrouded in greenery, and the moment he saw your hand back through the expanding knots of vines, he was by your side, claws slicing through his knuckles as he started to slash and swipe at the writhing snakes. His arm wrapped around your middle, the razor tip of his claw dangerously close to your jugular as he tried to surgically remove the constraint, only to find himself being pulled in with you, itching leaves winding up his forearm and over his bicep.

Breathing became difficult, the lack of oxygen making your brain hazy and your movements slow. You felt like you were trying to inhale through a straw after running a marathon, every part of your exposed skin itching and burning from even slight contact with the leaves, red rashes already rising around your face and neck. You hadn’t really thought she’d try to kill you, or anyone for that matter. In all honesty, you saw this as a desperate attempt to stall everyone before she made a run for it. Not kill everyone inside the goddamn school. Your oxygen-starved mind sluggishly thought to the kids in their classrooms, how terrified they must be, and you fucking hoped Storm or Scott had already started evacuating them as your vision started to tunnel slightly, your mouth agape in a futile attempt to draw breath. 

“C’mon…” Logan groaned with effort as he managed to wrench his arm free of the vines, nicking the side of your shoulder with his claws as he did. He didn’t have time for the instant, overwhelming feeling of guilt before he started desperately slashing again to get you free. Silver clashed with emerald with each savage claw until a soft hand got in his way, blood splattering across the wall. 

“Fuck! Those things are fucking sharp!” Morgana cried out, scarlet leaking from the deep slice across the back of her hand. Logan looked at her as if she’d completely lost her mind. 

“The fuck’re you doing?!”

To his chagrin, she just rolled her eyes, before the rivulets of blood running down her arm started to rise and expand, weaving through the now all-consuming wall of poison, staining the beige vines deep red. In his panic, he’d completely forgotten her mutation. It was deliberate. Her getting in the way. It had been on purpose. Understanding her plan, he sheathed his claws and wrapped his other arm around your middle, his grip like steel as, all at once, a sheet of blood exploded from just beyond the window, slicing through the snaking tendrils, useless ends falling lifeless to the floor.

Like a drowned man rescued from the water, you gasped a deep inhale, feeling yourself be tugged backwards from the crimson display and into a tight embrace that was, whilst unhelpful for your breathing, extremely helpful for your panic. You’d have been humiliated if you’d survived everything Kreva had put you through only to die became Erin was too fucking stubborn for her own good. 

“Y’okay?” Logan asked, concern dripping from his voice as he smoothed your hair from your face, wincing as he caught sight of the angry rashes around your neck and across your collarbones, winding up to frame the sides of your cheeks and brow. You couldn’t stop your nails dragging across the unholy itching in an attempt to soothe it, pulling loose bits of skin as you scratched fruitlessly. 

“Shadows…” your voice was raspy, and you felt like you’d swallowed a bag of nails, a bolt of pain shooting through your vocal cords as you tried to speak again. “Need shadow.”

Logan shifted into the path of the lamp and you dissolved into his silhouette instantly, returning only a beat later looking no worse for wear, though fury furrowed your brow and had your jaw tense. 

“Y’okay?” He asked again, only this time he felt a sense of calm seeing you unhurt. Your rage intimidated him only a little, but at least you were breathing this time. 

“M’fine. Fucking bitch. The fuck does she think she’s doing?” You seethed, casting a glare out the now-covered window as if you could kill her with your mind. Morgana huffed abruptly, still in control of the stained glass made of her own blood. 

“What exactly was your plan there? Or was almost suffocating to death a way of trying to get her to see what she the consequences of her actions?” She asked savagely, sliding her now glowing eyes to you and you could feel her irritation at your actions. 

“I was trying to see if I had a quicker way down to her. And I did, until she tried to fucking kill me.” You braced your hand around your throat as if you could still feel the constrictions around your neck. 

Seeing your phantom discomfort, Logan brushed the back of his hand against the one on your throat, a silent reminder that you were safe again. You laced your fingers between his, another silent way of communicating your gratitude, before once again returning to look beyond Morgana’s barrier. 

Unspoken agreement passed between the room, Morgana leading the way as the three of you sped down the stairs, shouting to any passersby to use the passage and get the hell out of there. You almost collided into a panicking Artie, clutching a small stuffed toy in his hands as he looked around desperately for Jubilee. At least you assumed he’d be looking for Jubilee, she’d taken on the role of protector for the boy, though not being that much older herself. 

You crouched and enveloped him in a tight hug, relieved to see he was unharmed. Though through the rushing crowds, it was difficult to make out specific faces. Until a shock of white hair bobbed through the heads of students, Storm managing to fight her way through the throng and in your direction. 

“How did this happen?” She asked by way of greeting, taking Artie from your arms and tucking him into her side. Shame and guilt tightened your gut. You couldn’t help but interpret her question differently. How could you let this happen?

“She got passed us,” Morgana stepped in, placing a hand on your shoulder and no doubt feeling exactly the same as you. “We weren’t careful enough. But we’re gonna fix it. We’re gonna fix this. We just need to get out there.” She nodded to the covered window where you knew the source was. Ororo sighed gravely.

“There’s only two ways this can go. Make sure it’s option one.” Was all she said, before guiding Artie down the hall and disappearing into the thinning crowd. At least most students had managed to get out, though you could only pray none of them had touched the leaves. You clenched your jaw, Storm’s words sinking in. 

She was right. There were only two possible ways this could go. You could convince her she was safe here, and that you all really were trying to get back and rescue the others.

Or you had to kill her. 

A glance at Morgana told you she’d realised the same, her eyes staring unblinkingly at the floor as she processed what the two of you might have to do if you couldn’t get through to her. “It won’t come to that.” You tried, but it was hard to sound convincing when you weren’t entirely convinced yourself. 

But she went along with your false confidence, choosing instead to gaslight herself right alongside you. “Yeah… it won’t.”

It broke Logan’s heart to see your desperation to fix things. To see the guilt etched into the crease of your brow. Broke him further as he watch the both of you understand that you might really have to kill her. You were torn between trying to save your old family and protecting your new one, he could feel it in his own damn soul. 

You couldn’t be battling with yourself like this right now. You didn’t have the fucking time. People were getting hurt and it was your own damn fault. And the familiarity of the situation flipped something in your brain. All at once, the hesitation you’d been feeling disappeared. Concern faded away. Fear locked up. You had a damn job to do. 

“Cut through the vines like before.” You instructed Morgana, steel icing your tone as you weaved through the stragglers, making a beeline for the double doors that normally would have led out into the gardens. Only right now they led into a wall of vines. 

“I uh– yeah, s-sure.” Logan watched recognition dawn on Morgana’s features, a deep sadness flickering in her eyes as she used her fingernail to reopen the wound on the back of her hand, hissing slightly at the hurt, before blood rose from the gash and seeped beneath the door, solidifying and slicing the climbing vines at the base, creating an opening for you. 

With a flick of your wrist, eight separate figures rose from the shadows around you, gliding to your side and waiting with obedient anticipation. Logan’s stomach dropped as darkness slid up your leg, across your abdomen and settled over your face, solidifying in a glassy, thin mask. Morgana gasped weakly, shaking her head at your new visage in a way that had a kernel of concern bubble in Logan’s chest. 

“I’m sorry if I have to kill her.” There was nothing apologetic in your tone. If anything, it sounded like you were completely devoid of emotion, lacking both empathy and compassion for your best friend as you stepped through the threshold and onto the balcony, your shadows following like dogs. 

“Is this–” He started before Morgana cut him off. 

“How she was before? Yeah…” She confirmed quietly, splitting her concentration between maintaining her mutation and watching you jump nimbly from the balcony onto the grass, striding toward Erin, your shadows in tow. “This was how she coped. All those missions. All those victims. This was how she kept going. It wasn’t solid, and she would break sometimes, but she’d just get better at it. And who’s better at hiding than someone who’s made of the dark?” 

His chest constricted with the realisation that, in the relief and disbelief that he really had you back, he hadn’t truly processed everything you’d remembered. You hadn’t been given the time before you launched straight into trying to help the girl you now might have to kill. And when you released your emotions again, when you let down that wall and they all flooded in, he couldn’t stand by and watch as you relived the moment you ended her life. 

He promised he would keep you safe, and he failed. He promised he wouldn’t leave you, and he’d failed. 

But he’d promised he’d find you. And he promised he’d protect you. Even if that meant from yourself. 

“Stay here, help them in any way you can.” He told her, before following where you’d leapt from the balcony. If he could save you the emotional turmoil of having to kill Erin, he would. And if that meant he had to kill her himself and have you hate him forever, he’d be okay with that. But you’d been through enough shit, you’d been made to feel like a monster because of the things you were forced to do.

Not this time. 

“ERIN!” Your voice echoed off the trees, bouncing back to you as you strode toward her, eight smoky figures fanning out behind you, the manifestation of each member of your family. Their heads twitched skittishly as if understanding their purpose in the situation, waiting for the command to rip. To tear. To wreak havoc.

Erin’s outstretched hands faltered, her eyes focussing back to you as the snakelike roots halted, the blooming of flowers and weeds around her feet stalled. She bit back a bitter laugh.

“All this time. You’ve been tryna convince me they helped you. They saved you. But look at you. You’re worse now than when we were back with the others. You tell me Kreva did some fucked up shit to us, which I can fucking smell is bullshit,  but look at what they’ve done to you.” 

Her words fell washed over you like water from a duck’s back, ignoring every pathetic attempt to make you feel bad about what you were. You felt the pull on the threads of your puppets, felt their yearning to make her suffer for what she’d said, but you held them back, tightened their leashes until they came to heel. 

“This was always who I was, Erin. I’ve only changed from your perspective because you don’t know who you are. Who any of us are. Not really Do you really think we spent the last ten years living in harmony? Going to work, coming home, meeting the neighbours, drinking and watching movies? People like us don’t get to have that life.” You were losing patience already. If she wasn’t going to calm down and come to her senses, you’d have to neutralise the threat. The figures shuddered with excitement. 

“Do you know how fucking crazy you sound? When you’re trying to tell me the last twenty years of my life have been a lie? Naji replaced all our memories? He wouldn’t do that,” She shouted desperately, roots and vines around her feet snaking and writhing in response. “Whatever happened to the flat… what happened to Atlas… I can’t explain it. But if we go back, if we go back and just talk to whoever that was, he’ll set them free… He has to…” she pleaded, and you took a steady step forward. “That’s why I have to do this. I can’t abandon him. I have to help them, but I have to help them now. I don’t trust these people. I don’t know these people. Look what they’ve done to you. To Morgana. I can’t let them do the same to me. Not whilst he’s still in danger.”

You tensed your jaw against the sudden wave of melancholy that broke through your walls, pushing it back as hard as you could, your face falling neutral again behind the mask of shadow. “What do you think we’re trying to do here? He’s got Rowan, Erin. He’s got my fucking brother. And I know the kinds of things Kreva will do to him because I remember. That’s what we’re trying to help you to do. To remember so we can form some kind of plan. But if we have to do this without you,” You paused, raising your hand slightly. “So be it.”

Before you can flick your wrist, a large, calloused hand wrapped around your palm, stopping you in motion. 

“Don’t,” Logan growled lowly, though there was no threat in his voice. You clenched your jaw again, testing his strength only to find your wrist held fast in his grip. “This is not what we do.”

You shook your head. “No. This isn’t what you do. You wanted to know what would change when I remembered. Here it is.” You raised your other hand, quickly flicking your wrist before he could catch it, and eight figures walked forward, heads twitching as they went. 

“Call them off.”

“She’s a threat.”

“Call. Them. Off.” He urged, eyes hardening. “Now.” He could see your eyes flicker behind the mask as if something was fighting to get through. You glanced back to where Erin had crouched, arms outstretched in preparation to fight back. She was a threat. The mansion was under attack.

And it was all because of you. 

“I have to put a stop to this.” Your steely voice started to bend, cracks peaking through the shell. Logan caught it instantly, tugging on that small thread you’d left exposed.

“Not like this. You don’t wanna do it like this. Call them off, Firefly.” He heard your breathing stutter, eyes widening as the mask from your face melted away. He dropped your hand, his palm sliding up the side of your neck to cup your face, acutely aware of how close the shadows were to Erin’s location. “Not like this.” He muttered softly, and your resolve shattered. You lowered you hand, splaying your fingers as the figures dissolved into nothing, returning from their positions back up the balcony and through the door where you pulled them from. 

“I–”

“It’s okay. I know. I know.” He pulled you in, cupping the back of your held to hold you beneath his chin, his fingers coursing through your hair, a strong sense of comforting calm soothing the sudden, immense wave of guilt. 

“This is real… isn’t it?” Erin asked quietly, her own resolve seemingly breaking apart. You cracked your eyes open, pulling back ever so slightly to look at her exhausted form, nodding in confirmation. 

“Yeah. This is real. We haven’t lied to you, Erin. We wouldn’t lie to you. Not about this. Not about your life. Who you are. You’ve had enough lies told to you. And Charles can help you sift through what was real and what wasn’t. Just let us help you.” You implored, stepping from Logan’s embrace and toward her, holding out your hand in an entirely different way to before. “Please. You’re my family, Erin. Let me help you.” 

Her toxic green hair fell in front of her face as her head dropped, small sobs shaking her shoulders, and you were by her side as her knees buckled, arms around her frame before she fell to the floor. 

“It sucks. I know. We both know, me and Morgana. We know, but it gets easier. It’ll get easier once you remember. I promise.” Despite the horrors of your own past, it had gotten easier once you were restored. You knew who you were, and you’d come to terms with the things you’d done. You know Morgana had too. And you knew Erin would be the same. 

“‘Morgana and I’…” she corrected weakly, and you raised a brow.

“Huh?”

“It’s Morgana and I. ‘Not me and Morgana’.”

You chuckled slightly. “Well excuse me grammar police.” Your heart soared as she hiccuped a laugh, raising her head to look at you, her eyes shining, tears staining the sides of her cheeks. 

“I’m sorry…”

You offered her an empathetic smile, your brows creasing. “I know. We all are. For everything. Remembering isn’t easy, and it’ll fuck you up for a few hours, but you’ll be okay.” You brought her into your embrace, soothing gentle caresses against her shoulder. “We all will. And we’re gonna get the others back too. I promise.”

“You make a lot of promises now.”

“Cuz I know I can keep ‘em.” You felt her laugh again, sniffing into your collar before removing herself from your arms and standing up. 

“Guess I should probably do something about that…” You turned back to where she was looking at the mansion, overtaken with greenery and wrapping vines, briefly catching Logan’s proud gaze on you. 

“And easy fix. Don’t worry. We have telekinetics for this kinda thing.” You shrugged, getting to your feet as Erin raised her palms, the school creaking with relief as the invasive vines snaked back into the earth with a slight hiss. The moment they disappeared from the doorway, Morgana came sprinting out, racing down the stone steps.

“Everyone okay!?”  She called out, her footsteps pounding on the grass as she all but tackled Erin into a hug, the girl barely able to maintain her footing. 

“We’re fine, Morgo. Just an intense reality check.” Erin responded from where she’d been buried in Morgana’s hair, spitting out small strands as she spoke. “I uh… I’m sorry for causing such chaos. I was just scared, I guess.” She explained meekly, and Morgana only tightened her grip. 

“It’s okay. We both did the same. Not mansion-crushing poison ivy kinda same, but we weren’t exactly quiet either.” She responded brightly, placing both her hands on Erin’s shoulders. “You ready to remember?” She asked, and Erin nodded slightly. 

“Think so… need to see Charles, right?” 

“Right. He should be downstairs keeping track of the students. They’re probably on their way back now actually.”

“Way back?”

Morgana scratched the back of her head, almost sheepish to admit what Erin had caused. “We uh, sorta evacuated the school. Ya know, poison ivy and stuff. Not great for kids.”

You watched them continue their conversation, Morgana’s arm tucked tightly in the elbow of Erin’s, the two girls seemingly thrilled one of them wasn’t trying to kill the other. You smiled slightly before it faded with the realisation of what you almost did. What you almost robbed the both of them of. 

“‘M prouda ya,” Logan said, tucking you safely against his chest. But you just sighed, resting your temple against the beat of his heart.

“I almost killed her, Lo’. Not sure that’s something you should be proud of.” You retorted a little savagely, clearly shamed by your actions. Logan’s heart clenched.

“But you didn’t. You snapped out ‘ve it and chose option one.”

“And if you weren’t here, Erin would be dead and Morgana would be devastated. And I don’t even wanna think about what it would have done to me…” You closed your eyes as he tilted your head up to look at him, lids fluttering open when his thumb smoothed your brow.

“Then it’s a good job I’m here, isn’t it?”

“And if this happens again?”

“I’ll be here for that too. Not gonna let you go, darlin’.” He murmured into the top of your head, pressing a kiss to the crease between your brows and you felt the tension melt from your bones. 

“Thank you.” You whispered, your arms winding around his neck when you felt his lips graze yours, mouth parting instinctively for him. His arms settled around your waist, holding you tight not dissimilar to the way he held you earlier, before this whole thing. 

Fuck, how did he breathe the last two months you weren’t with him?

‘I hate to interrupt,’ You both exhaled an irritated sigh as Charles's voice echoed in both of your minds. ‘However, once Erin’s memories are restored, we have a meeting and I would like the both of you to be present. We start planning today.’ 

Though the intrusion had been unwelcome, once again, a buzz of anticipation flooded your veins. Finally, you’d start forming a plan to get the rest of your family back. Finally, you could start thinking about getting Rowan back. You didn’t have to pace anymore. You didn’t have to think about what he was going through at Kreva’s hands anymore. 

You were coming for him. Coming for all of them. And you promised yourself you’d make Kreva wish he was never fucking born. 

The meeting didn’t go as planned at all. Two weeks. Two fucking weeks. That was how long Charles had said it would take to gather significant intel and stage a rescue mission. It was too fucking long. Who knows what Kreva would be capable of in two weeks? Two weeks! Fuck’s sake. 

You threw open the door to your room, rage burning through your system. You were ready now. Fuck, you were ready two fucking days ago, before you’d even got your memories back. You couldn’t wait another two damn weeks. It was too long. Far too long. 

Maybe you could head out on your own. Take Morgana and Erin with you and just go there yourselves. No plan, no backup, just the three of you. You didn’t particularly like the odds, but it was better than just sitting around and waiting. You were back to pacing, back to laying awake at night thinking. Worrying. Two fucking weeks.

“These things take time,” Logan attempted to placate from behind you, softly shutting the door as he watched you restlessly march back and forth, your hands tangled in your hair. 

“Is that what they told you when it was me they were looking to rescue? Is that what you convinced yourself when it was my life on the line?” You spat back, tone savage as your mind spun, uncaring of how cruel you sounded. You couldn’t tame your tone. Couldn’t tame your fury. And whilst in the back of your mind you felt bad Logan was the one taking the brunt of it, there that feeling stayed. In the back of your mind.

He sighed, understanding perhaps more than anyone how difficult this was. “No. I was thinking the exact same things as you are now,”

“Oh yeah? Didn’t know you were a telepath. What ‘m I thinking then?” You barked, barely pausing long enough to shoot him a glare before you resumed your fruitless pacing. 

“That you should just head out yourself. That it would be easier to do this alone. That they’re being too fucking cautious and you should just storm the place yourself, nobody behind you.” He explained exactly what was running through your head, almost word for word. Huh.

Maybe he was a telepath. 

Or maybe you were just two halves of the same soul. 

You huffed a sigh, sitting heavily on the edge of the bed, your leg bouncing with pent-up energy. “I’m assuming you didn’t do that.”

He shook his head, taking his rightful place by your side, a broad hand settling on your bouncing thigh. “No. ‘cause I knew the best chance of gettin’ you back safely was to wait. It fuckin’ killed me, don’t get me wrong, but it was worth it. ‘Cause I did get you back. It worked and you’re here now because of it, not in spite of it.” 

You rested your head atop his shoulder, trying to calm the electric adrenaline coursing through your veins. “I’m scared, Logan. The things Kreva did in the two months… it felt like a punishment. I’m fairly certain it was a punishment. And now I’ve escaped him, I know he’ll be taking it out on Rowan.” You closed your eyes, fighting against the images flashing through your brain. Bloodied scalpels, exposed organs, your own arms tearing at the restraints on your wrists. 

“What did he do…?” He asked quietly, his hand squeezing your thigh slightly. You shook your head. 

“I’ll spare you the details, but it was some fucked up autopsy kinda thing. Only we were alive. And fully conscious. Ya know, average Kreva things.” 

Fury curled in his gut, and he tensed his jaw to keep from snarling. The moment he got his hands on Kreva he’d delight in tearing him apart. He hated the way you said it so nonchalantly, though he knew it was a way you coped. You had to normalise it in your head, at least for most of the time. 

“Christ…” 

“Yeah… so I got a few new scars to commemorate the occasions. Fun, huh?” You nudged him gently, and he rolled his eyes. He didn’t quite have the same devil-may-care attitude as you did to your scars, both mental and physical, but he could appreciate the way you managed to find humour. No matter how dark it may be. 

“You’re insane.”

“Mhm? You spend almost a century with psychopaths prodding and poking you, see how sane you turn out.” You provoked with a small, mischievous grin, and he genuinely found himself wondering how you managed to be so fucking perfect for him. His body hummed with yearning, fingers dancing across your thigh and he watched your eyes grow heavy-lidded, turning your head to inhale into this side of his neck. “Logan…” you whispered, and he could hear that exact same yearning he felt in his bones against the shell of his ear. 

His fingers inched towards the crease between your thighs, your body heating up in response to his delicate touches, your lips peppering kisses against the side of his neck. He suppressed a groan when your nails dug into his forearm, leaving little crescents that quickly faded. 

Becoming impatient with his teasing, you swung your leg over to straddle his lap, settling yourself on his growing arousal, your fingers dragging lines of flame up the muscles of his back, scratching beneath the white singlet. 

He couldn’t stifle his reaction to your touch, mouth falling open with a quiet moan, his hands coming to either side of your waist, holding you down as you slowly rocked onto him in a vain attempt to ease the ache between your thighs. You hadn’t had sex with him yet since your memories were restored. If Logan was being honest with himself, he was a little afraid of triggering something for you, but the way you panted softly against his lips showed him you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. 

“You sure?” He murmured, inhaling your scent from the dip between your shoulder and collarbone, shuddering as your familiarity washed over him, combining with the sweetness of your arousal. How did you always smell so fucking good to him?

“Do I not seem sure?” You shot back teasingly, pinching the shell of his ear between your teeth and tugging a little deviously. Logan huffed a heated breath against your temple as your hands placed firmly against his chest, pushing him until his spine settled against the comforter atop your bed. You teeth sank into your lower lip, your hands skirting up beneath the white singlet, mapping the plains and valleys of his abdomen with your fingertips, scratching down the sides of his ribs, his muscles contracting and relaxing with you exploring touches. You wanted him so fucking badly. You had been wanting him so fucking badly for the last two days, but you respected his self-control to hold back. You knew he was waiting for you, and you were eternally grateful for his consideration. However, the amount of times he’d unintentionally left you high and dry was driving you up the goddamn wall. 

You stood from his lap, hooking your fingers beneath the hem of your t-shirt and making a show of pulling it from your body. It didn’t matter what you were wearing. Whether you were dressed to the nines or hanging out in your sweats and a hoody, Logan always made you feel hot as fuck. The way his eyes would shamelessly roam your body, scars and all, made you feel like you never needed to hide from him. Everything about you was desirable to him. It was part of the reason you loved him so fucking much. 

Discarding your t-shirt to the floor, your fingers deftly pulled down the zipper of your jeans, swaying your hips as you tugged them down. How you managed to elegantly step from the pool of tight fabric would always be a mystery to him, but a mystery he would attempt to solve at a later date when you weren’t standing before him in nothing but your underwear. You weren’t kidding earlier when you told him you had a few new scars. His mouth watered with the need to run his tongue down the newest one starting from just above your left breast and finishing beneath the right-hand side of your ribcage. He didn’t even want to know how you got that, but he assumed it might have something to do with the live autopsy you were talking about earlier…

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You quipped cheekily, placing a hand on your hip as if to pose for him. Left in just your bralette and bikini pants, Logan had to check himself to make sure he wasn’t fucking drooling as he sat up, shrugging off his plaid shirt and pulling his white singlet up over his head, dumping them both at the foot of your bed. 

“C’mere,” you squealed as he lurched forward, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist to tug you between his spread legs, his cock already throbbing for you, calling needily for attention he would ignore. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, ya know that?” He murmured against your stomach, nipping sharp little marks into your skin, his tongue tracing that new scar up to where it disappeared behind the fabric of your bra. “S’in my way.” He muttered almost to himself, a hint of irritation lacing his tone as he shoved it to bunch up above your breasts. Your snorted a laugh before pulling it up over your head, tossing it to the small pile of clothes you’d left on the floor.

“Better?” You asked, amusement woven through your tone. Logan shook his head, the tips of his fingers tracing the elastic of your underwear, making you shiver.

“No. Still in my way,” he snatched the hem with his teeth, pulling it back before letting it go with a snap against your hips, leaving you gasping for something more. With a sly, wicked smile, Logan released the constant tension he had on his claws, letting one slip through the gap in his knuckles, tracing the back of the warm metal along your inner thigh. “Didn’t forget about this…” he whispered against your skin, eyes torn between concentrating on what he was doing and watching what it did to you, your back arching toward him as he slotted his claw in the apex of your clothed cunt, biting back a grin as you all but ground against the blunt edge. 

“Such a fucking tease.” You hissed, your fingers winding into the soft, brown locks of his hair, nails digging into the top of his head, pulling a low groan from the back of his throat. You grinned to yourself, tugging harshly on the threads woven through your fingers, earning yourself yet another wanton growl. If he was gonna tease you all damn evening, you’d be damned if you weren’t gonna tease him right back. 

Logan angled his claw down slightly, giving you further room to grind down against it simultaneously making sure he wasn’t in any danger of cutting you at all. That wasn’t something either of you had explored yet, and whilst he was okay with you toeing the line of danger, he wasn’t quite open to hurting you. Not yet. Not when he just got you back. Hurting you was the last thing on his mind. “C’mon princess, use me.” He encouraged lowly, his other hand guiding your hips in slow, languid strokes, pressing his thumb against your hip bone. You whined at his words, sandwiching your lips between your teeth to deliberately deprive him of your sounds. You knew he fucking loved it when you moaned for him, you knew he loved it when he could hear just how well he was treating you. 

Not today. Not if he was going to do nothing but fucking tease you.

He could feel the heat from your soaked cunt, feel every slick movement as you soaked the crotch of your bikinis. All that from the slightest pressure from one of his claws. The implications had his mind spinning. He had an inkling you were locking your sweet noises away from him on purpose, but Logan was nearly always up for a challenge. Removing his claw from your apex, he deftly sliced through the elastic of your pants, growling a chuckle as you gasped again. Sliding to his knees, his palm grabbed the meat of your thigh, shamelessly throwing your leg over his shoulder, exposing your glistening centre. 

“Gonna make you fuckin’ scream, darlin’.” You barely had time to think of a witty quip back before his tongue gently nudged between your folds, hot pleasure spiking through your veins as his nose nudged your swollen clit. You sucked in a harsh breath, your fingers tightening their hold on his hair, twisting through soft locks to hold him in place. Logan’s eyes rolled back behind closed lids, lapping up your sweet nectar with his tongue. 

You couldn’t hold back your guttural moan when his mouth settled over your throbbing pearl, sucking gently against the sensitivity. Your spine curled around his head and you had a front-row seat to the way the muscles in his back tensed with the effort to not throw you on the bed and pick you apart. He snarled hotly when one of your hands left his hair to claw up those same tensing muscles, earning yourself a harsh suck against your clit, vibrations from his voice sending little waves of ecstasy through your system. 

“Logan…” you breathed airily, your tone pitching with a whine when his hand skirted up your inner thigh for his fingers to tease your slick entrance, seemingly content to feel you gush against his fingertips before slowly burying his middle finger inside you. 

He revelled in your gasps, your moans, knowing that no matter how hard you tried, you could never hide just how fucking good he could make you feel. It stroked his ego, your wordless praise going straight to his throbbing, leaking cock. That mixed with the natural aphrodisiac of your essence had him gripping your outer thigh tightly in an attempt to ground himself and keep his shit together. But it was becoming increasingly more difficult the moment you arched into him as the rough pad of his finger reached that little bundle of nerves deep within your silken walls. 

Oh, how he fucking yearned to replace that finger with his cock. 

Your back bowed as liquid pleasure flooded every fibre of your being, unable to stop your desperate grinding against his face, sharp nails clawing into the meat of his shoulder, feeling his soft laughter beneath your palms. He had you. He knew he had you. Exactly where he wanted you. And if you were being honest with yourself, you were all too happy to accept that if it meant he wouldn’t stop. 

“Fuck! Fuck Logan…” You whimpered, hips undulating onto his tongue as he introduced a second finger, scissoring you open before exploring deeping, once again finding that little spot that made your eyes cross and stars dance in your vision. The tension in your gut started to become unbearable, every breath laced with a pitched moan of his name, repeating it like a prayer to the skies above as you threw your head back.

He wasn’t lying. He was going to make you scream. 

Nimble fingers curled inside you repeatedly, massaging your inner walls whilst his tongue continued to lap at your clit, beckoning you further towards that cliff, dangerously toeing the edge when his lips wrapped back around your pearl of pleasure and sucked long and hard.

A quiet scream tore from your throat, somehow still mindful of the fact you were in the mansion and screaming any louder would definitely alert your poor neighbours of what was going on inside the walls of your room. Heated lightning flashed behind your eyes as your arousal crested into sheer ecstasy, your thighs clamping around his head to hold him right there whilst your orgasm shook your very core, your muscles contracting with every endless wave of pure, hot rapture. 

Logan groaned long and deep into your cunt, using his own voice to heighten and lengthen your orgasm before it became too much for you and you were forced to tug him back, faced with his glistening visage of proud glee. You guessed two months of no sex had been building your sensitivity to a crescendo, your thighs still trembling slightly though you were by no means done. Fuck you wanted to devour him.

“Jeans. Off. Now.” You managed to pant darkly, watching his eyes sparkle with the unspoken promise as he wiped your slick from his mouth, maintaining your gaze as he lapped at the back of his hand. Christ, he was fucking filthy sometimes. 

“Yes ma’am,” he quipped back, slowly lowering your leg from his shoulder, making certain you could still stand on your own before he rose to his feet, capturing your lips in a brutal, passionate kiss as he passed your face. You gasped into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue, your own hands flying to the buckle of his belt, flicking open the steel and tightening the leather around his waist briefly, a small display of assertion, before removing it entirely and looping it around your hand. Oh, you had plans tonight, plans to show him just how much you’d missed him. To show him you had no intentions of letting him go. 

Dexterous fingers popped open the brass button atop his jeans, carefully dragging the zipper down before shoving both jeans and briefs from his hips, leaving him to handle the rest whilst your coal-hot palm circled his pulsing length. 

Logan’s jaw fell slack as he kicked off the fabric, brows pinching as you slowly pumped his cock, your thumb dragging along the prominent vein running down the underside of his length. The clinking of his belt in your other hand had his eyes drifting down, his mind straining to form a coherent thought as you looked at him questioningly. 

“What’re you thinkin’?” he managed to grit, having to wrap his fingers around your wrist to stop your motions before he lost himself again. You pursed your lips, dragging your leather-bound hand across his chest and up to his shoulder.

“Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

You paused for a moment, a wicked glint gleaming in your eye. “I wanna wrap this around your neck and pull on it whilst I suck your fucking soul out of your cock.”

Logan almost choked on his own gathering saliva, and he should really be ashamed of how fucking hot you just made him, his cock throbbing at the mere thought of your intentions. “And you said I was filthy… fuck darlin’. Might’ve been the hottest thing you’ve ever said.” He breathed, delighting in the downright villainous look in your gaze. Holy fucking shit. 

“Yeah? Want me to collar you like a dog?” You had no idea where any of this was coming from. Sure you’d had fantasies of tying him up and worshipping him the same way he’d done to you, but all this dirty talk? You had no damn clue. 

“Fuck yes.” He hissed, and your lips split into a devilish grin. 

“Sit.” You instructed, and he did just that, no questions asked, legs spread for you to kneel between, his cock twitching needily. “So obedient.”

His chest inflated as you rose on your knees, twirling the length of the belt from your hand and winding it around his thick neck, feeding the end through the buckle and pulling until it was snuck against his skin. All the while he nipped sharp bites wherever your wrist was in reach of his mouth, his palm holding your arm still so he could trail his teeth up to the crease of your elbow. 

You gave the belt an experimental tug, admiring the way he gasped at the leather tightened briefly around his neck, pulling his head back from your skin. You felt his cock nudge your stomach with the slight buck of his hips in response to the sensation. 

Settling back down to sit on your heels, you kept the end of the belt clasped tightly in one hand, the other returning to palm his cock, admiring the way he gasped loudly as the centre of your hand circled his sensitive tip, spreading clear pre-cum up and down his shaft. You leaned forward, savouring the bite in your knees as your hot breath fanned the underside of his length, your tongue only gently grazing that same vein you ran your thumb down earlier. 

“Fuck…” he sighed, his head tipping back, bracing one hand behind him and the other atop your head, fingers scratching at the roots of your hair. It had been too fucking long since he had you like this, and the tightening leather around his neck only served to further his heightened sensitivity. 

Opening your mouth, you wrapped your lips around his leaking tip, your tongue lapping against his frenulum, tugging at the belt as his hips bucked into your mouth, craving more. He hissed, baring his teeth in a silent snarl as you hollowed your cheeks, sucking in time to the rhythmic pulsing of his length, your other hand dragging teasing nails up and down what you hadn’t fit in your mouth yet, before all at once, you tore your hand away, opened your throat and swallowed the rest of his cock. 

Logan’s back arched, a stuttered moan tearing from his chest as your nose buried itself in the course hairs at his naval, gasping raggedly as you gave the belt another harsh tug, cold leather digging into the straining tendons on the sides of his neck, pressing against his prominent adam’s apple and constricting his breathing for a moment. The second it loosened, a hot wave of ecstasy coursed through his veins as he inhaled, honey-laced lightning filling his lungs when you pulled back from his cock, only to run your tongue down the underside of his length again as you sucked him off. 

“Shit… shit sweetheart. Feel so fucking good…” he groaned as you worked him, every drag of your hot mouth pulling him closer to his high, every small gag tightening your throat around his throbbing cock. Tears lined your eyes as you took him as deep as you could once again, your hand bracing against his hip as he bucked sharply, uncontrollably, into your mouth. He gasped to the ceiling as his head fell back, tightening the leather as you held the end in a death grip, not providing any slack for him. Brows pinched, mouth agape, Logan felt himself cresting the pinnacle of pleasure, hand grasping your hair as he failed to still his grinding hips.

“Gonna cum baby, f-fuck, gonna cum…!” he rasped a warning, only encouraging you to hollow your cheeks further and bring him over the edge in a similar way he’d done to you only moments ago. Your tongue danced against his pulsing vein, nails digging into his hip bone as you sucked long and hard, tugging the belt sharply and sending him into trembling ecstasy. 

A throaty, drawn-out roar wracked his throat as he tumbled head first into his orgasm, mindful to tear his hand from your head as his claws ripped through his knuckles, shooting rope after copious rope of cum down your throat, his thighs shaking with each delicious wave. He couldn’t find it in him to care for the tearing of fabric as he ripped clean through your comforter, powerful tides of liquid hedonistic gratification sending his mind spinning and clouding his senses. 

You didn’t stop your ministrations, swallowing every drop you pulled from him before continuing to circle the back of your tongue against his increasingly sensitive tip until he was bucking to escape the heat of your mouth. You had half the mind to tug on the belt once more, to get him to behave, but the fresh ache in your cunt was loud enough to release him, wanting nothing more than to feel him quake inside you. 

Pulling off with a soft pop, you delivered a few kitten licks to his still leaking slit before looking up to admire your work, Logan’s blissful, fucked out visage doing nothing to satiate your building desperation. 

When you said you’d suck his soul out, he didn’t think you meant literally. Basking in the afterglow of his orgasm, Logan had to check himself to make sure you hadn’t somehow killed him, his heart racing with the force of his high, chest heaving as he fought for breath. You loosened the belt slightly and he groaned lowly with the sudden intake of oxygen, yet another wave of pleasure forcing another bubble of milky cum from his tip. Softly, you unhooked the belt from the buckle, sliding it from around his neck and discarding it to the floor along with the rest of your forgotten clothing, your hands cradling the fading bruises on either side of his throat.

Cracking his eyes open, he genuinely had a moment where he did think he was dead because you looked otherwordly above him. A seraphim. Or a succubus. He couldn’t decide which. 

“I’d say that was a successful addition, wouldn’t you?” The audacity you had to expect him to respond right now was unbelievable, your soft arms wrapping around his freshly healed neck as you went to straddle his settling thighs, mindful of his overly sensitive cock. You knew it wouldn’t be too long until he was ready for another round, so why not spend that time teasing him a little?

“Fucking hell darlin’...” he managed, his claws sinking back between his knuckles before his hands came to cradle your waist, finding enough strength to pull you with him as he shuffled back onto the bed, propping himself up against your pillows and headboard. “You tryna kill me or somethin’?” he grinned, a brow arched at your wicked little giggle. 

“Wouldn’t be a bad way to go.” You retorted, winding your hands into his hair soothingly,  moulding your lips to his so he could taste himself on your tongue, your own essence still lingering in his mouth.

“What’s that then? Attempt three? Four? On my life?” he asked, pulling back a fraction to watch you roll your eyes playfully. 

“Who’s counting?”

Logan shook his head fondly. All the fear of losing you. All the pain of failing to protect you. The agony of waiting. It was all worth it to see you here, now, with him. He still couldn’t quite believe he had you back in his arms. “Fuck I love you. So fucking much, Firefly.” He murmured against your lips, your eyes widening slightly before pouring every ounce of adoration in your heart into a fierce kiss. 

“Want you, Logan…” you breathed, feeling his cock already hardening against your cunt, grinding your hips to catch your clit on his balls. 

“You have me, sweetheart.” He responded, bracing his hands against your back to switch positions, your world spinning for a moment before you nestled back into the pillows, strong arms caging you in. “You have me.” He repeated, teasing the head of his cock through your slick folds before slowly breaching you.

Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, ankles crossing at the small of his back as he filled you, the desperation of before having shifted to something more sensual, more passionate. He didn’t just want to fuck you. He wanted to love you. 

Your brows pinched, eyes closing, an airy gasp floating from your lips with the familiar stretch of his length filling your perfectly. He stilled as he settled to the hilt, basking in the feeling of your tight walls clenching around him, shaky breaths fanning your temple as he fought with himself not to cum on the damn spot. 

“Look at me…” he urged softly, your lids fluttering open to meet his intense gaze, watching his jaw slacken when he pulled out to the tip, before rolling his hips back into you, mesmerised by every micro-expression you made. Your thighs tightened around his waist, heels digging into the base of his spine as you encouraged his movements. He kept his thrusts slow and deep, reaching every inch of your inner walls, grazing deliciously against that bundle of nerves he was teasing with his fingers before you had him in your mouth. 

“I love you.” You whispered, hands holding onto the sinewy muscles of his shoulders, welcoming him into your quivering cunt with every rhythmic pulse of his cock breaching your glistening entrance. Logan huffed a gravelly groan, soft eyes searching tracing every detail of your features, the way your mouth fell open, the way you fought to keep your eyes open when his length bushed that little spot of pure ecstasy inside you, the crease in the centre of your brows when they pinched. He committed each little expression to memory, before losing himself completely in your silken heat.

Logan increased the pace of his movements, pleasure coursing through his veins as you shuddered around him, your nails piercing the skin of his shoulders, desperation fuelling the clawing across the top of his back. Your pitched moans went straight to his cock, urging him to bury his face in the side of your neck and inhale your sweet scent, driving him to give you as much as he could.

“C’mon baby… can feel you clenchin’ round me. Let go,” he instructed, savouring the way your thighs trembled, your spine arching. “Cum f’me darlin’. Show me how good it feels.”

Your symphony of moans climaxed along with your body, the shadows in the room quivering and whipping out as you struck your high, cumming in long, drawn-out waves and creaming on his pulsing cock. Logan tensed as he refrained from spilling into your for as long as he could, determined to prolong your ecstasy before he reached his own. But the moment you surged up to bury your teeth in the side of his neck, he came undone.

“Sh-shit! Fuck!” He growled your name through grit teeth, heaving gasps as he lost control of his hips for the second time that night, bucking into you with renewed desperation as his muscles contracted, rapturous nectar pulsing from his cock as he pumped into your waiting heat, your walls gripping and milking him for all he was worth. 

Phantom tides of lightning caused his length to twitch within you, and it took nearly all his strength not to collapse and crush you beneath him, rolling to the side, your legs still wrapped around his waist, keeping him nestled inside you.

Logan pulled your into his sweat-oiled chest, his heavy breathing calming slightly as you nuzzled into the hollow of his throat, your own hot breaths fanning his already heated skin whilst the two of you basked in the floating afterglow, his scruff scratching lightly against your forehead as you buried your face in his neck. 

He held you as you came back to earth, untangling your legs from his waist, hissing as he pulled out and lifted his side for you to remove your other leg from where he was essentially holding it hostage with his weight. 

“Where the fuck did that whole belt thing come from?” he asked with no small degree of humour in his voice once he remembered how to think properly. He felt you shake with laughter, tilting your head up to gaze into his mirthful hazel eyes. 

“Been wanting to do something with that damn belt since the first time we slept together. Maybe the first time you kissed me, actually…” you hummed thoughtfully, and he cocked a brow. He remembered that first morning you woke up together, your confession over leaving the belt somewhere within reach just in case.

He always wondered what the case would have been. Now he knew. And it was the single hottest thing you’d ever done. 

“Such a freak.” He mumbled, gently hitting his nose against yours as you rolled your eyes.

“You’re saying that as if you didn’t cave the moment I suggested it. I asked if you wanted me to collar you and you responded, and I quote, ‘fuck yes’.” You did your best to imitate his voice, failing miserably as you couldn’t reach that low or gravelly. Logan rolled his eyes, shoving your head back into his neck where you couldn’t see just how wrapped around your finger he truly was.

“That was a shit impression.”

“Whaddya mean, bub?” You did it again, earning yourself a sharp pinch to your waist before you devolved into fits of giggles. 

“Stop.” He fought back a grin, refusing to show you how amused he truly was by your antics. “You’re a hundred-and-five years old, act your age.”

“Logan if I acted my age I’d be dead. And so would you, for that matter,” you quipped back, earning yourself a snort of laughter above you.

“Good point well made.”

“Speaking of which…” you raised your head from his neck once again, propping yourself up on your elbow. “I never did thank you, did I? For not telling me how you found out my birthday. Guess I never got the chance but– thank you. I know you don’t like lying to me so it means a lot that you did.” 

You watch him struggle to accept your gratitude, clearly battling between the guilt of not telling you at the time and the want to keep you in the dark to stop you from dwelling.

“How long’ve you known?”

“Since Charles restored my memory. After my freakout. It was the first thing Jade showed me. My birthday in the cabin,” you responded softly, idly tracing the muscles of his bicep with your fingers. “We gotta go back, by the way. I think I left my gift there.” You admitted sheepishly.

“It’s here.”

Your eyes shot back to his face, and he couldn’t have recreated your expression of surprised awe if you had given him all the art lessons in the world. “It’s here?”

“Yep.”

“Wh- h- what? When? How?” your pitch increased with each question, your brain working overtime to try and remember when he would have had the time to pick it up in the rush of both packing and leaving that night two months ago. 

“Remember you forgot ya purse?” He asked, a fond glint dancing in his eyes.

“Well yeah but–”

“Grabbed it on the way out. It was on the mantlepiece next to that ridiculous picture you took.”

“I like that picture!” You defended avidly, remembering the day you took it. It was a freezing autumn afternoon, though there was nothing but sunshine in the sky. You’d wrapped a scarf around his neck as he worked on the bike outside, snapping a sneaky pic of him all snug. It was one of your favourite pictures, and you’d got it printed and framed without him even knowing about it. How you managed to do any of that behind his back you wouldn’t say, but he let you display it because it made you happy. 

“Besides the point. It’s uh– in my closet.” It was his turn to sound a little guilty, soft tones laced with culpability.

“Your closet? Why? It’s gorgeous.” You tilted your head as much as you could with the awkward position, struggling to understand why he would shut away such an incredible display of his woodworking skills. 

“I couldn’t look at it…” he confessed, and you inhaled a micro gasp of understanding. It was a reminder of what he’d lost for the last two months. You hadn’t really taken the time to contemplate just how hard things had been for him. In a way, having your memories completely readjusted had worked in your favour. You couldn’t miss what you didn’t remember. But Logan? He remembered all of it. And he’d spent the last two months wondering if he’d ever see you again. 

“Logan…” you murmured, your hand leaving his arm to cup the side of his face, heartbreaking as he leaned into your touch a fraction, the scruff of his beard tickling the heel of your palm. “I’m so sorry.” You didn’t quite know why you were apologising. Maybe for having it easier with not being able to miss him the same way he missed you. For not truly understanding what he went through. For being so focused on yourself and your brother, you hadn’t taken a moment to think about his experiences. Sure, you’d asked how he was holding up, but it didn’t seem enough.

“S’okay. You’re here now.” It was a reassurance for himself more than anything else, you could see it in the way he savoured your touch, your thumb dragging gently back and forth over his cheekbone.

“I’m here now.” You affirmed, nudging his nose with yours before resting your forehead against his. “I’m here.”

“I wanna spend the rest of my life with you, firefly.”

Your eyes blew wide, searching his face for the deception you knew you wouldn’t find. “What…?”

“Not a proposal or anythin’, don’t worry. Just wanted you to know. Come far too close to losin’ you to not say shit like this, I guess.” He tried to play it off like his heart wasn’t in his damn throat, watching every micro-expression you made, looking for any sign of rejection. But the way your eyes watered slightly, lips splitting into a smile of sheer, unadulterated joy, told him that there would be no such thing from you. 

“I wouldn’t be mad if it was, but I am yours. For however long you’ll have me.” You continued to trace his features, the creases at the corners of his eyes as his mouth quirked into a soft, fond smile. 

“So ‘til one of us keels over. Might be some time.”

“I think I’m okay with that.”

The rythmic tapping of nails against oak occupied your mind as you started blankly at the presentation screen ahead of you, details of the latest draft of the search and rescue mission glowing faintly on the screen. But you finding it difficult to concentrate on Scott’s authoritative voice when his plan didn’t make any goddamn sense.

“Wasn’t that the entrance you used last time? Fairly certain Kreva would have worked that out by now…” Morgana offered with uncertainty, and you grunted in agreement, your leg bouncing in growing irritation as once again, the meeting was going fucking nowehere. Logan’s hand settled on your thigh, his thumb caressing soothing circles onto the top of your sweatpants. 

“There’ll be twice as many guards there than there were last time, if there were any there at all.” You followed up, speaking through where your teeth chewed at your cuticles, your tapping nails ceasing to settle you other palm atop Logan’s knuckles, a silent gesture to reassure him you were alright. 

“Guards won’t be a problem.” He snarled quietly, resisting the urge to prove his point by releasing the tension in his knuckles. You bit back a smile. 

“We also gotta remember,” Morgana continued, flipping her hair back behind her shoulder. “Kreva will also be expecting something from us now. Especially since he grabbed Rowan for this exact reason. He’ll be expecting you.” She turned her attention to you, and you frowned in acknowledgment. You knew that. You all knew that. And you’d lost count of the amount of times people had tried to convince your to stay here and not head out with them. Each conversation ended fairly abruptly, with you telling them to fuck off. 

“And he still has his trump card, Naji.” Erin chimed in, her cheek resting on her palm as if she was bored out of her mind, her other hand mindless tapping on her phone. You knew she was actually listening pretty intently, her brain working overtime to come up with creative solutions to the problems that just wouldn’t stop arising. She wanted to get Atlas out with as little risk as possible, and she was also one of the people who had tried to convince you to step back, but backed down when you promptly mentioned she wasn’t the only one missing someone she loved deeply. 

That shut her up pretty damn quickly. 

“I thought we’d decided Jean would take care of Naji?” You couldn’t keep the frustration in your voice as you were once again having to go back over issues that had already been resolved. Why the fuck was this being brought up yet again? And awkward silence blanketed the room, Jean, Scott and Charles exchanging quick, uncertain glances. 

“We did… but we decided it wouldn’t be a good idea,” Scott said, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms, already defensive. As he should be.

“What? Why? Who else better to engage in a mind battle than a fucking telepath? And I’m not being funny, but I’m assuming Charles isn’t coming, correct?” You turned your head to the Professor as he nodded in confirmation.

“I’ll be there in Cerebro.” Was all he said, and you looked back to Scott pointedly. 

“Exactly. So why the hell wouldn’t we send Jean to Naji?”

“It’s too dangerous.” He stated simply, and you fought the urge to lunge across the table and slap the shit out of him. 

“Of course it’s dangerous. This is dangerous for all of us! But Jean agreed, right?” You tnow turned to her, desperate for her to confirm what had already happened. But she too looked hesitant.

“Yeah, I did.” She sighed, and you gave Scott a look of ‘fuck you, asshole’. But he only tightened his jaw.

“So why are we now deciding that sending a telepath after a memory manipulator is a bad idea?”

“Perhaps we should adjourn this meeting for later?” Hank offered after being all but silent the entire time.

“No, fuck that. This is important. Do you guys know what’s at stake here? I’m assuming Logan wasn’t the only one to read the fild, right? You do know what Kreva did to us, yes?” You asked the room to to yet another chorus of quiet, confirming your fears. Barely anyone in this room knew exactly what they were up against. “You’re fucking kidding me…” You breathed, trying to focus on Logan squeezing your leg to help ground your fury. 

“She’s right,” he chimed in, and your heart surged. No matter what, you knew he would fight your corner. He always did. “Pretty sure the only ones here who can fight against mind battles are Jean and Charles. None of us can put up those kinda defences and if that fucker snatches up one of us, the whole plan goes outta whack.”

“And what will you be doing?” Scott shot from across the table, and you felt Logan tense slightly. 

“What I do best.” He responded flatly, and you got the distinct feeling this meeting was about to become a lot more heated. 

“So whilst you’re running around carving through carrion, Jean will be fighting the real battle, that right?” Okay, now it was really taking all your concentration not to smack his glasses off his fucking face. What the hell did he mean by real battle?

“I think Hank was right, maybe we should–” Kurt began awkwardly from the corner, clearly already hating the growing confrontation. But he was instantly cut off by you, rising to Scott’s challenge.

“Oh I’m sorry, is keeping your girlfriend safe by taking out hundreds of gunmen not enough?” You bit, venom dripping from your tone. Scott scoffed as the rest of the room shuffled anxiously, Ororo pinching the bridge of her knows between her fingers as if this whole conversation was giving her a headache. 

“‘His girlfriend’ is in the room.” Jean placed a hand on her hip, her eyes hardening as she looked between the two opposing sides. But it seemed neither Logan, Scott nor yourself noticed.

“My girlfriend is the only reason you made it out that damn place with your mind still intact, and the only reason you didn’t go ape shit and kill the rest of us like you did Jade.”

“Scott!” Storm barked, but it was far too late. The damage was done. Your head tilted to the side, shadows in the room rippling and writhing as your control over the threads inside you started to slip. 

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Logan snarled, his hands balling into fists as he too engaged in the same battle to keep control. 

“Just because you got a new girlfriend Logan doesn’t mean you can throw mine into the fray. It wasn’t so long ago you were eyeing her up at every opportunity,” he turned back to you. “I’d be careful if I were you. Wait ‘til the next pretty girl waltzes into the school, you’ll be old news to him.”

The following silence was so thick it tasted like bitter resentment. You swore it was only two months ago Scott was congratulating the both of you on your newfound relationship. Why the fuck was he acting like this.

It didn’t matter anyway. He’d said what he’d said and you slowly stood from your seat. The room watched you with prey-like caution, Scott’s fingers dancing across his glasses, Ororo’s hands flexing in anticipation. They were still scared. Still scared of you. And you couldn’t help but think it was with good reason, because the way you were currently feeling, you could have drowned this whole room in darkness without hesitation. 

But you wouldn’t be who they saw. Only Morgana and Erin seemed at ease, Erin with that same bored look, tapping away on her phone, and Morgana looking as if she’d just watched the latest episode of the juiciest TV show.

“Meeting adjourned.” You said with deathly quiet, before stalking from the room, hearing a sharp ‘the fuck was that Scott’ from Ororo as you let your feet carry you away. You refused to feel insecure in your relationship with Logan. It wasn’t that long ago, maybe a week or so, he was saying how he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. You knew Scott was bitter about the way Jean had behaved, and the man placed a lot of the blame on your partner, despite the fact she was the one who’d lead him on. Gave him hope where there wasn’t any. Not that any of that mattered now. It was in the past. Old news. And news you’d already been told, by Logan himself. 

That wasn’t even what got to you. It was his comment about Jade. Whilst you’d put your self-hatred and guilt to bed, it still didn’t mean it wasn’t easy for it to rise again. You felt the all to familiar waves of regret wax and wane in your chest, the memory of her death playing on repeat in your head, through your own eyes. You clenched your jaw against them, trying to remember that she had forgiven you for what you’d done. She didn’t hold it against you, and the locket currently bouncing against the hollow of your throat was a testament to that.

You didn’t even realise you’d made it outside until the sharp winter air seeped through your bones. At least the sky was clear, clusters of stars blinking down at you, but rather than finding peace, you instead felt judgement. Which was ridiculous. But you felt it anyway, in the passionate deaths of a million fireballs light-years away from Earth. You sucked in a deep breath, allowing the icy air to soothe the burning in your chest, letting your bubbling rage settle into a gentle stew. 

You heard him before you saw him, heavy footsteps crunching on gravel before a large, warm jacket settled atop your shoulders, bathing you in the comforting scent of whiskey and pine. You stayed silent for a moment, Logan’s hand finding yours subconsciously.

“Did you kill him?” You asked by way of greeting, and you heard a soft huff of small laughter by your side. 

“Not yet. Want me to?”

“I’m real good at hiding bodies.”

“That I don’t doubt.” 

Logan felt his gut twist as you continued looking skyward, hoping you were finding some kind of solace in the feeling of unimportance when faced with the rest of the universe. Feeling small was something Logan was too familiar with, but when staring into the infinite, glittering void above, he found a comforting sense of mortality, despite thus far proving to be immortal. But then he remembered Scott’s scathing comment, and he was brought back to the issue at hand. “You know it’s bullshit, right?”

You blinked for a moment, failing to understand what he was referring to. “What’s bullshit?”

“The whole thing about the next pretty girl…” he clarified quietly, his fingers flexing and squeezing between yours.

“Oh, pff, that? I’m not worried. Like I said, I’m real good at hiding bodies.” You grinned slightly, and you watched his face relax in relief. Was he really worried about such a petty comment? It soothed your aching heart to know he was. 

“Good.” He murmured to the top of your hair, his hand leaving yours to wrap his arm around your shoulders.

“Good that I can hide bodies?”

“That too.”

You hummed in contented agreement, basking in the warmth of his presence, returning your gaze to the night sky. “You okay? That was quite a shot fired from Scott.” You quieried, craning your neck further to look at his side profile, his eyes still trained above.

“‘M’fine. After you left they got into an argument so that was kinda cathartic to watch.”

“Who? Scott and Jean?”

“Mhm.” He hummed in confirmation, and you snorted a laugh.

“What was she saying?”

“That he needs to stop treating her like she can’t handle herself, that she isn’t made of glass.”

“Sounds familiar.” You lightly elbowed his side and he raised a brow down to you, deftly flicking your forehead before you could pull away in time. 

The quiet of the night invaded the space between you, settling comfortably atop unspoken affection. “What he said about Jade…”

“I’m fine, Lo’. Sure, it kinda caught me off guard, but I probably should have expected it. Especially since I was questioning his fragile authority.” You shrugged, but Logan knew the depth of the wound Scott had cut. He didn’t think there would be a time when digs about Jade wouldn’t resurface those feelings of fear and liability. 

“I love you, ya know that?”

You sighed warmly. “Yeah, I know.” You responded, once again letting the silence settle for a beat before you inhaled a breath. “Jean? Really?”

Logan groaned in response, it was the same conversation you’d started when he’d first told you about that whole situation. “Yeah, I know. Don’t.”

“But like, okay she’s hot, and a red-head so like, double whammy, but she’s kinda creepy. Feels like something’s going on under the surface, ya know?”

“Look, she was the first person who’d shown me any kind of kindness for a long time, a’ight?”

“Okay but like, if someone helped you across the street, would you fall in love with them, too?” 

“What am I? Eight-five?”

“No, you’re hundred and thirty. Eighty-five’s pretty sprightly in comparison.”

“And that’s enough talkin’.” He wrapped both arms around your shoulder, hiding your face beneath his chin to muffle your voice, your rapid breaths of laughter fanning his neck. “It wasn’t the same, anyway.”

“Hm?” You tried to pull back, only to be met with resistance from Logan’s hand against the back of your head. 

“It wasn’t the same, how I felt ‘bout her. To how I feel ‘bout you. Never was ‘n never will be.” He didn’t need to say it. You both knew he didn’t need to say it. But that’s why it meant so much more that he did. Your soul sang within the centre of your very being, to be so loved after all you’ve gone through, you never thought something like this would be possible, let alone allowing yourself to love someone back. Even with Jade, you felt as if you didn’t have the right to love her.

But Logan? He made you feel so safe. 

“I know.” You repeated into the home you’d made in the crook of his neck. Logan exhaled a hum, Adam’s apple sending soft vibrations through your nose as he simply held you for a moment, before sniffing the air twice the combined scent of earth coated iron had his lips pulling into a slight smile.

“She’s all yours.” Logan stole a glance behind him to where both Erin and Morgana were standing silently, respectfully waiting for the sweet moment to naturally come to a close. When you pulled back this time, he let you, his hand falling to your waist before pecking your lips with a honeyed kiss. 

It was only when he stepped back from you did you realise you had company, too wrapped up in his presence to hear their shoes on the gravel. He offered you a nod of reassurance, and you offered him a warm smile in return before he turned his back and heading back inside, his jacket still hanging snugly across your shoulders. 

“That was cute,” Erin began as she tucked her phone into her back pocket, the two girls coming to stand on either side of you, both of them looping their arms through your elbows. “Scratch that. He’s cute. Can’t believe you’re actually dating that gorgeous hunk of a man. So unfair.” She pouted slightly, and you chuckled. 

“I know right? We escape for seven years and what do we do? Become strippers and gardeners. You escape for seven years and find yourself a partner, a family and a team. Talk about bullshit.” Morgana chided with a cheeky grin, her eyes flashing in the low light. 

“Yeah well… I did also kill the woman I loved so it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows.” You admitted, watching their expressions morph from cheeky to melancholic in a heartbeat. You guessed they still weren’t quite used to that fact yet. You’d had longer to come to terms with it, at least after Charles restored your memories. They’d only found out a week ago. It was still a hard pill to swallow. Jade was gone. For good. 

Your breath clouded in front of your face as you returned to look skyward, finding less judgment in the stars and more comfort. If nothing else, they’d been a constant in your life. Whether you were out killing for Kreva or out fighting for your family. They’d always been there above you. Keeping you company on the long, difficult nights. 

“I’m gonna miss her,” Erin whispered into the night, her arm tightening around yours. “She was–”

“Fun.” Morgana finished, casting a glance at her two sisters by her side. You huffed a laugh.

“We were fun. Whilst we weren’t being fucked up. We had a lot of fun.” You felt a slight burn in your eyes. It was only just dawned on you that your lives together were coming to an end. When you got Atlas, Rowan, Naji and Joes back, what would happen to Nimlo? Would you all stay together? It seemed unlikely. Erin didn’t seem all too comfortable in the mansion, and you had an idea that once she was back with Atlas, that would be it for the two of them. They’d go their separate ways. Rowan would stay by your side, maybe get a job here at the school teaching physics or something. Joes could never stay in one place for very long, always flitting between rooms for a ‘change of scenery’ he would say. Naji would most likely become a recluse, not that he was particularly social, to begin with.

But Morgana? You had a feeling she was directionless. Torn between different paths. You knew she could stay here. The team would welcome her with open arms, and you’d seen the way she got on particularly well with Kurt, the two of them cracking up in the corner after one of them made some stupid joke. But there was no guarantee that, after this, you’d ever see many of them again. 

“You remember when we graffitied that guy’s wall?” Morgana broke the silence, her voice thick with a similar emotion to yours. 

“And Joes had to distract him by telling him the longest, most elaborate story about the time he went to get his ass checked out by a doctor only to realise he just had pin-worms?” Erin continued, clearing her throat slightly so she could speak without her voice breaking. 

You cracked a broad grin, shoulders shaking with teary laughter as you remembered that night vividly. You were all a bored band of misfits with a can of paint and an idea, drawing a dick and balls on one of the neighbourhood’s walls before being caught with a flashlight in the middle of the act. Joes rushed into performance mode, telling this poor man the story of his completely fabricated visit to the doctor’s in graphic detail. He was so stunned it gave you precious few moments to make a break for it, sprinting down the side streets to the disgruntled shouts of an angry man. You vaguely wondered how he was doing now, before remembering he never existed. 

“Or when we stole that woman’s car after being caught shoplifting.” You chimed, looking at Morgana pointedly. She gaped in mock offence. 

“I refuse to take the blame for that. Atlas was supposed to be on watch but somehow got distracted.” She sent a faux glare across you to Erin, who’d done her best to craft a mask of complete innocence. 

“I had nothing to do with that! You wanna talk about poor lookouts? How about we never put Rowan on scout duty ever again? Why did we think it was a good idea to put the damn light-weaver on lookout, at night time?” 

The two girls both turned to look at you. “Hey! Why ‘m I getting the blame for that? It was Jade’s idea! She said to ‘let him have a go’, so don’t you look at me like that!” You couldn’t suppress your wicked smile, feeling a little at fault but honestly, not giving a rat’s ass. “Is it my imagination or did Jade shift into a hamster and hide herself in the pet shop just to bite the finger of the guy who cut her off that one time.”

“Oh my god no she did! I remember that! She came back with a shit-eating grin saying she ‘got the fucker’ and we were all so confused!” Morgana cackled, the three of you reminiscing over the time Jade had returned from shopping only to find out she’d been pretending to be a hamster for the last four hours in the hopes the motherfucker who cut her off on the road would somehow waltz in. How she managed to actually pull it off blew your minds. How she even knew he’d come in at some point that day was even more impressive. 

Bubbles of rapturous laughter died away as reality settled in your chest, the silence of the night overtaking you once again. “What happens after this…?” You asked quietly, slightly fearful of ruining the moment. But the two girls by your side just sighed, having clearly been asking themselves the same thing.

“Who knows? We gotta get them back first.” Morgo replied with equal quiet, the looming mission now growing ever-present. “But Erin, for the love of all that is both holy and unholy, will you please tell Atlas you love him? Don’t know about the others, but I’m getting real sick of the constant glances of longing between the two of you. Makes a girl lonely, ya know?” She emphasised her point by shoving you in her direction, in turn sending you colliding with the green-haired girl by your side. She shoved you back into the redhead, and you had to tighten your arms around theirs to get them to stop. You weren’t a damn weapon!

Well, not in this context anyway.

“Yeah yeah, alright. Probably would be a good time anyway, with heightened emotions and all that. But we do realise they're not just gonna waltz out of there with us, right? Kreva’s probably done to us what he did to Jade and just forced them all to forget about us.” Erin spoke your fears into reality. It had been on your mind, the idea that Rowan wouldn’t even know who you were when you saw him again, but that was a bridge you were going to have to cross when you got to it. 

“Then we’ll just do what they did last time. Bamf them the fuck out of there with Kurt.” Morgana explained plainly as if it were the easiest solution in the world. When, in reality, it would only most likely work for Atlas. Joes could also teleport and Rowan could disintegrate into the light the same way you could through the dark. Naji would hopefully be too caught up with Jean to notice he’d been snatched away, but that plan was still apparently a raging debate. 

“Can Kurt do that? I mean, he could only do it a few times before all hell broke loose before,” Erin raised, her fingers fiddling the hem of her oversized hoodie, and you shrugged in response. Honestly, you didn’t know what was going to happen, though you knew one thing was certain, and that was getting Rowan back.

We’ll stay in touch, right? After all of this? Like, we’re not just gonna go our separate ways and never speak again. Like, we’ll still talk to each other…? Right?” You could hear the broken uncertainty in Morgana’s voice, another unanswered question. You wanted to. Fuck did you want to. These people were your family. You didn’t want them to leave just yet.

“Yeah… yeah. Course we will. Right, Erin?” You prompted her awkward silence.

“Erin?” Morgana leaned to look across you straight into the girl’s avoiding gaze.

“I… I don’t know. I’d like to. But it’s just… ya know, we’ve been through so much. We should learn how to exist without each other. How to live our own lives.”

She had a point. Ever since restoring your memories, all you’ve thought about was getting NLMO bacl together. But what if not everyone wanted to be together? What if, like Erin had just said, some of them wanted to grow apart? Start their own journeys that didn’t involve experiments or toruture or co-existing with people who could be taken and fundamentally changed at any minute. 

“I get that…” You offered quietly, earning yourself a look of indignation from Morgana and a look of gratitude from Erin. “Myself excluded, it’s hard to imagine any of the others lead extremely fulfilling lives in the seven years after the facility was destroyed. Maybe Erin has a point…” you paused, turning to Morgana’s thoughtfully hurt face. “Maybe it is the time for us to find our own ways. Obviously, that doesn’t mean we won’t be in touch with each other.”

“Exactly!” Erin encouraged with a broad smile, nodding emphatically as Morgana’s expression lightened slightly. 

“I guess so. I just… I don’t really know who I am outside of Nimlo. I’m sorta–”

“On the outside?”

Kurt’s voice chimed from above you, and the three of you looked up to see him swinging like a large, wingless bat from one of the windows. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I could hear you from my room. But I understand, Morgana.” Using his tail, he slowly lowered himself so he could drop to the floor, not wanting to startle the three of you any further by disappearing and reappearing in a cloud of smoke. “I uh– I know what it’s like to be on the outside of things…” He admitted quietly, almost sheepishly, and you cast a glance at Erin, who in turn wiggled her eyebrows at you.

“Yeah? What did you do?” She queried, looking the mutant up and down in a way that was just shy of innocent. 

“I stuck around here. Found my purpose. My purpose was with these people. Perhaps you find yours too.” You suppressed your knowing grin, the man’s shy smile making you almost giddy as Morgana pretended to think it over, placing her fingers on her chin theatrically. 

“Huh… Thanks for the advice, elf-man. I’ll think about it.” She winked in true Morgana fashion, and you gently tugged on Erin’s arm to leave the two of them out in the starlight, letting them have their moment the same way they let you have yours with Logan. 

“They’d be cute…” Erin mused, and you snorted a laugh, shrugging off Logan’s jacket as the warmth of the mansion made you almost sweat beneath the leather. 

“She’ll eat him alive.” You responded flatly, opening the door to the kitchen only for your eyes to land upon three mugs atop the table, the one in the centre you knew all too well, and the aroma of hot chocolate greeting your nose. Marshmallows slowly melted atop the surface, and you let yourself hum a smile as you lifted your mug to read the little, crinkled piece of paper beneath it, a brown circle staining the paper.

‘Cold out there. Warm up before coming to bed. I don’t mean you, Morgana. L. xx’

“I think I’m in love with your boyfriend,” Erin stated with a wry grin, lifting one of the three mugs to her lips and savouring the sweet treat. You sighed wistfully, letting the rich aromas warm you soul with the tenderness of the gesture.

“Yeah. I love him too.”

“Who are we collectively in love with?” Morgana asked, not too far behind the two of you having finished her conversation with Kurt. You didn’t exactly know what the two of them spoke about, but there was an extra kick in her step that hadn’t been present beforehand. You guessed, whatever it was, her life had some kind of direction now. 

“Logan.” You and Erin replied in unison, and Morgana nodded in exaggerated understanding, her eyes too falling on the sweet treat with an even sweeter meaning. 

“Was this him?”

“Yep.” You answered proudly, leaning against the counter, both hands cupped around the heat of the mug. 

“Oh girl you got it good. Do you know how good you got it? Cuz you got. It. Good.” Morgana hummed into her drink, and you really didn’t know how she managed to guzzle down half of the mug’s contents considering it was still scalding hot. But the way she sighed in satisfaction had you chortling. “Why can I have a smoking hot boyfriend who makes hot chocolate for me?”

“Because yours is busy pining from the room upstairs,” Erin commented over the steam of her drink, and you clamped your lips tightly shut, eyes widening as you knew Morgana definitely would have heard her.

“Aaaaand that’s my cue. Have a good night you two. Please try not to kill each other, it’s so tricky to get bloodstains out of this flooring.” You grinned, opening up one of the top cupboards and stealing a packet of smoked mixed nuts before you left, still clutching your hot drink in both hands. There was no way Logan would already be asleep by the time you joined him in bed, and you also knew there was no way he would say no to having a little pre-bed snack. Usually, that meant he’d lie between your thighs for hours, but you didn’t think you had the energy to let him have his way with you tonight. The mixed nuts were more of a distraction tactic than anything else. 

“Night girlie!”

“Sleep well, and please don’t be too loud if you have sex!” Morgana called after you and you sniggered under your breath. No promises, Morgana. You were making no promises.

Maybe you were the kind of person to bite at your cuticles and pull at the skin of your lips. You never thought you were, but more recently you’d found yourself with loose skin clutched between your teeth that you’d torn from your body. The air in the Blackbird was thick with anticipation, with silence accompanying the low hum of the jet engines and the constant roaring of blue flame. With Morgana and Kurt opposite you, Logan and Erin on either side of you, and Ororo, Scott, Jean and Kitty each taking up one of the seats, you’d all assembled that morning to finalise the plan of attack. It had taken Scott another few days after that argument to finally come around and agree to the idea of Jean occupying Naji whilst the rest of you set to work evacuating, and whilst he still wasn’t keen on the idea, Charles had managed to placate him with the reassurance that he would be right there with her from Cerebro. Nobody was going to be left on their own during this. You all knew you had somewhat of a battle coming up, and none of you were about to leave someone behind. 

It wasn’t in the nature of the team.

Your leg bounced slightly, every situation playing out in your head, what you were about to be faced with turning in your mind like a carousel of anxiety. Rowan. Rowan. What state would he be in when you saw him again? It had only been two weeks, but in all honesty, it had felt like months since you’d escaped again. It was highly likely all memories of you would have been replaced, but that didn’t mean you were ready to see the look of unfamiliarity on his face. Was this how Logan felt? The time he came for you? Or did he not have any ideas?

You glanced to where he’d settled his hand atop yours. You found it endearing, how he disguised his own comfort as providing comfort for you. You knew he didn’t like flying. He’d told you as such months ago. It freaked him out, being thousands of feet in the air with nothing but physics and steel standing in the way of plummeting to death. Well, some of you would die. If you landed in the middle of a field during the day, you’d be screwed for sure. 

Twisting your wrist, you intertwined your hands, slotting your fingers between his knuckles and squeezing gently. He raised a brow, turning from where he was looking out beyond the cockpit to where you were focused on tracing the patterns of the steel on the floor.  A thumb brushed gently across the back of your hand.

“Y’okay?” He murmured, and you took a deep breath, quickly debating between being truthful and everyone on the ship knowing how little confidence you had in this plan, and lying to him, which you really fucking hated doing. You knew he hated it too, but you didn’t know if you could face the uncertain looks that were bound to find their way to you if you were honest.

“Fine…” but you let him see right through to your soul, your eyes crystal clear as you showed him just how not fine you really were. You were terrified. Of seeing Kreva again, of seeing Rowan again, of something going wrong. And there were so many things that could go wrong. 

He responded by wordlessly pressing a kiss to your temple, the scruff of his beard lightly scratching the side of your face as you leaned into him, his hand leaving yours to wrap around your shoulders, resting his chin atop your head. You sighed into him, closing your eyes to bask in his scent. In his touch. This was home, for you. Wherever he was, that was home. Logan was your home. 

You hoped he knew that.

“Landing in five. Everyone ready?” Scott called from the pilot’s seat, flicking various switches above his head as you heard the clunk of the landing gear beneath your feet, the world around you fogging up as you dipped below the cloud cover, Scott engaging the cloaking device the moment you all saw the twilight ground beneath. Your heart leapt into your throat as you peeked around Kitty’s seat, the telltale lights of the ‘environmental research lab’ illuminating acres of land in the darkness. From the outside, it really did look innocent. Somewhere that was focused on saving the world through renewable energy. But you knew what lurked below. You’d hidden the skeletons in the closet for Kreva too many times to count. 

A bubble of rage curled in your gut. You’d thought long and hard about what you wanted to say to the man who’d orchestrated so much agony in your life. There was nothing you could do about his great grandfather, the fucking genius behind the whole idea, but you sure as hell could make his grandson wish he was never fucking born. 

In fact, you intended to.

Erin secured the various pockets on her cargo pants, each labelled with a different symbol for different plants. Morgana skillfully flicked about the butterfly knife in her hands, before slotting it back into the guard at her left wrist. It was the perfect position for a quick slice to her palm. 

You guessed everyone was ready, from the grim looks they gave each other. You suppose you were too. Or at least,a s ready as you could be before facing the horrors of your past once again, hopefully for the last time. With a nod to both Erin and Morgana, the three of you stood, taking a collective deep breath. 

“We got this,” Morgana said with more confidence than you felt, but you nodded along anyway. If you didn’t truly feel it, you supposed you’d just have to gaslight yourself into feeling it. This was the first stage of the plan. Draw them out. Since Erin had said Kreva apparently needed all of you to convince the government his experiments have yielded helpful results, you knew he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to get the three of you back in one fell swoop whilst assuming he has the upper hand. That was when Jean, who would remain on the ship, would take hold of Naji, and Kurt would start the evacuation. Scott, Ororo and Logan were mainly backups to keep the guards from interfering. But it was too simple, which was why your mind was working overtime to try and plan for every eventuality. 

Honestly, if he knew, Scott would be so proud of you.

“‘Course we do. Easy stuff in comparison to what we’re used to. This is nothing.” Erin grinned, and you honestly couldn’t believe she was so relaxed, considering how close she was to getting Atlas back. You would have thought she would have been a little more anxious, but you were glad to see she was holding herself up pretty damn well.

“Hey,” Logan uttered your name, inhaling a long breath as you turned back to him. This was the part he was least looking forward to, not that he was particularly looking forward to any of this. But simply having to watch you walk into danger, willingly, he knew it was going to tear him apart when it was first agreed upon, and now the moment was here, it was a shock he was able to keep himself together. “If anythin’… goes wrong, call f’me, ‘kay?” he braced both his hands on either side of your neck, his thumbs positioned beneath your jaw as if you would even try to look away from him. “I’ll hear ya. No matter where you are. I’ll always hear ya.”

Your arms snaked around his neck, fingers winding into the soft locks at the back of his head. “I will. I promise.” You vowed, gasping sharply as he fixed his lips to yours in a kiss you wished could last a lifetime. His mouth moulded passionately against yours in long, languid movements, as if he had all the time in the world. Your heart cracked slightly, refusing to entertain the possibility that, if something goes wrong, this could be the last time you hold him. But you quickly shoved all and any thought like that to the back of your mind. You wouldn’t let that happen, and you sure as shit knew Logan wouldn’t let that happen.

You parted breathlessly, whispering his name against his lips, you lashes fluttering open to find him already looking down at you, eyes brimming with shattering adoration. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” 

Logan shook his head, resting his brow against yours. “Don’t need to. Said you’re mine for as long as I’ll have ya.”

“Til one of us keels over.” You recalled, a small smile pulling at your lips. “We’ve got time.”

“I know.” He breathed, though he was still reluctant to let go of you. He knew he had to, for the sake of this one last mission, but he found himself hesitating. 

“I love you.” You whispered against his lips, and he hated how it sounded like a goodbye. It wasn’t, of course. He’d go through hell and back to make sure it wasn’t, but it still tugged at his heart.

“I love you too.” He responded with another press of his lips against yours. The ship shook slightly as the gear touched the ground, and Logan finally released you from his embrace, stepping back as if he had to physically keep himself from bolting after you the moment you left the hold. You knew how he felt. It was taking all of your concentration to walk away from him, every step feeling as if cement had filled your legs, heavy boots thumping against the ramp as you, Erin and Morgana stepped out into the cool night breeze, the whispering of trees left you feeling slightly unnerved, as if nature itself was alerting Kreva of your presence. 

Taking the lead, with two members of your old family flanking both sides, you steeled your nerves, flicking your wrist to summon three figures of shadow to tail further behind. They were a signal for the others. If one disappears, things have gone to plan. Two meant standby. And if all three disappeared…

It meant things had gone terribly, horrendously wrong. 

You broke through the lining of trees, the glass double doors looming above you as your boots cracked and crunched against the gravel car park for guards disguised as employees. It was no wonder nobody did much research into this place when on the outside it looked so inconspicuous. There was a slight whirr of movement atop the left-hand side of the door, a white security camera twisting and zooming in on your location. You knew exactly who was watching you, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your skin crawl. 

“KREVA!” You shouted, your voice echoing through the trees, several crows flying out from the canopy behind you. Shadows whipped and writhed around your feet as you stood just outside the cone of light from the interior, Morgana’s blood floating above her hand where she’d nicked it with her knife, Erin’s hand buried deep within her pocket, her fingers no doubt tightly wrapped around a cluster of seeds. 

A crackle of static slashed through the resulting silence of your own shout, and you looked to the other side of the door where two orange lights fluttered beneath two small speakers. 

“Well well well, I’d love to say what a surprise, but that would be a lie.” Kreva’s smug voice resonated through the car park and you bristled instantly, your lips pulling back into a snarl. “I’ve been waiting for you, Eight. Quite patiently, might I add? I could have just come and raided that quaint little school again, but where would be the fun in that? It’s much more fun to watch you deal with the betrayal when you realise what’s really been going on.” 

You had to remind yourself not to ask questions. You couldn’t appear clueless, that way he would know for sure he had the upper hand. The thought of being behind on intel scared the shit out of you. How could he possibly be ahead of you? You’d been gathering information for two weeks, and you knew Kurt was extremely careful. So how the fuck could he possibly–

Your blood froze as you felt the slightest brush of something against your boot, and looking down you could feel your face drain as tiny, scattered seeds littered about your feet. Before you had a chance to whip back, a shoulder collided with the centre of your back, sending you sprawling into the light, several heads of giant Venus Fly Traps surged towards you. With a desperate flick of your wrist, you released the hold you had on the three figures back at the ship, and you knew Logan would notice immediately before a sharp pressure across your chest squeezed the air from your lungs. Morgana’s screech of fury was cut dangerously short, and you refused to let the fear of her death consume you, your hands bound by your sides by the furious clamping of teeth.

Erin stepped passed the two of you and watched Kreva appear from within the facility, the doors of a lift opening from inside the lobby, the gangly motherfucker almost waltzing as he approached the double doors. Craning your neck, your eyes met Erin’s, and you could see her internal battle between explaining herself and staying silent. 

“I didn’t have a choice…” she said after a while, tears lining her eyes. “He only needs you and Rowan. That’s what he said. He didn’t need us. And if I handed you over… he’d set the rest of us free.” She finally explained, and your throat tore with a scream of rage. How fucking stupid could she be? Did she really not know, after all this time, Kreva was fucking lying? 

“And Morgana?” you strained, watching grief pass across Erin’s features, her eyes flickering with sorrow. 

“She wouldn’t have understood. But you always wanted to protect us, right? And this way, you can protect us and set us free at the same time. I… I’m sorry, about Morgana. But this was the only way.” 

“I should have– fucking killed you!” You hissed, writhing within the jaws of the Fly Trap, crying out as one of the teeth flicked back and pierced your arm, heated blood flowing down your elbow. 

“Now now, Eight. That’s no way to talk to your family now is it?” Kreva held out his arms as if he expected Erin to run and embrace him. But at least she had the good sense to hold back, eyeing the man suspiciously. “I know what you’re thinking. How could Six have possibly told me what was going on?” He jeered, spinning where he stood as a familiar roar echoed in the distance. Your breath petrified in your chest

“Logan…” you rasped, desperation clawing at your limbs as you fought to tear your arm from the Trap’s teeth, uncaring whether the plant tore through flesh and muscle. You’d endured worse.

“You know what’s just so darn wonderful about the age of technology? It’s that nobody really notices how much or how little time someone spends on their phone! And when we received that first call from Six, oh you can just imagine how excited I was!” Your eyes flew wide as you remembered. It wasn’t something you had particularly took note of, and it wasn’t like Erin had been glued to her phone, but there had been a few instances you thought she was on it at inappropriate times. 

Like in planning meetings, for example. 

“We had a deal, Kreva. Eight for Atlas. I don’t care about the others, just give me Atlas and I’ll turn her over.” Erin clenched her fist and you grit your teeth against the mouth of the Fly Trap tightening around you, spots swimming in your vision. 

“Yes yes, alright. Five!” Your head spun as you watched your brother materialise from the light, Atlas’ elbow held tightly in his grip as he brought him through too. You watched his golden eyes fall on you, recognition flaring in his irises and you thought for one small moment Kreva hadn’t messed with his memory. 

That was before his expression darkened with fury and he extended his hand, a blade of glowing light forming around his arm, the same way you could create one with shadow.

“Take a breath, Five. I know. But revenge is a dish best served cold, especially against one’s own family. I remember the day she abandoned you without so much as a glance back. Do you?”

So that’s what Kreva had replaced you with. Memories of abandonment. You opened your mouth to scream again, only for Kreva to place a finger to your lips, Erin’s hand squeezing even tighter. “Shh, shush now. I haven’t even got to the best part yet. You see, I know of the little backup squad you have in the clearing over there. I didn’t just want Six’s betrayal to tear you apart, Subject Eight. I wanted to break you down, for everything you’ve done to me.” Quivering rage seeped into his voice before he took a breath, that same condescending smile pulling at his lips the moment after he composed himself. “So I sent Naji after your boyfriend. I’d be powerful with both you and Five on my side, but with The Wolverine as well? I’d be nigh on unstoppable.” He whispered, and terror replaced every furious fibre of your being. You hadn’t heard anything from the rest of the team since Logan’s roar. That was until heavy boots crunched through the undergrowth accompanied by the sound of something weighty being dragged along. 

“Who needs an army when you have The Wolverine?!” Kreva called out to an invisible audience as Logan lumbered through the tree line, a body slung across his shoulder and another two dragged behind in each hand. A sob wracked from your chest as you noticed his dark eyes, no trace of the fond warmth you’d come to find in those hazel irises. Covered in blood, Logan threw the two bodies at his feet, before carefully lowering the third from his shoulder. Naji, with a singed hole punctured through the centre of his chest, lay still on the gravel. 

“Shot him ‘fore I could do anythin’. Rest’re dead.” He growled and grief shattered your fragile heart. In one fell swoop, everything you loved had been ripped from beneath your feet and you felt yourself plummet, falling completely limp in the jaws of the Venus Fly Trap as the cold realisation settled in your gut. 

You’d lost. You’d lost everything.

Kreva sighed dramatically, kicking his heels against the ground as he crossed to nudge Naji with his foot. “Shame. Would have been useful to readjust her memories. Not to worry though, we’ll figure something out. Who’re these lovely specimens?” He asked, crouching low next to a blood-soaked Ororo and an unconscious Scott.

“That’s the shit-stick who shot One. That’s the bitch who fried Three.” Logan responded the complete lack of emotion in his voice dragging you deeper into disparity. Joes was dead too, it seemed. What had happened to Jean? To Kitty? You didn’t want to think about it. You already knew the answer. The crimson dripping from Logan’s knuckles told you all you needed to know. 

“You see, Eight? Things could have been so much smoother. Nobody had to die but now look. Everyone you’ve ever loved is either dead or against you. And I can’t force you to forget about it because One is dead too. We’re now the same, you and I. We both have to live with the consequences of our actions.” He spoke in mock mourning, and your eyes slid from Kreva to Logan as he was escorted to your side.

“Please…” You whispered thickly, whether you were begging him to remember or begging him to kill you, you honestly didn’t know. But a hollow void opened in your chest when you couldn’t see any trace of recognition in his eyes. He didn’t know who you were. 

Now you knew what it felt like.

“Kreva.” Erin prompted with steel lacing her tone. “Our deal.”

“Right, right, yeah. Uhm, actually, no.” Before she could react, Rowan took a swift step forward and with a swipe of his blade, cut a clean slice through her throat. Erin gurgled a gasp, her hands slowly reaching for the fresh wound, thick rivers of blood staining her pale skin, leaking down her neck, soaking her shirt. She fell to her knees, eyes wide with shock, the Fly Trap loosening its grip around your body as it died alongside her, shrivelling and sinking into nothing.  

You hit the ground with a soft thud, rolling slightly before bracing your body up on your elbows. You couldn’t turn around. Couldn’t turn and face everything you’d lost. Morgana was dead. Erin was dead. Kitty was dead. Scott, Ororo, Jean, Joes, Naji… 

And the Logan you knew, the Logan you loved, he was gone too. The sharp tip of a blinding blade sliced a thin line beneath your chin, tilting your head up to look into the eyes of your brother, eyes burning with loathing and betrayal. How ironic it seemed. 

You could let him do it. Lean forward and let the blade pierce your throat, die gurgling as Erin had if your body didn’t dissolve first. But you knew you couldn’t. Your subconscious strength to survive against all odds wouldn’t let you. 

With the slight crunch of gravel, Kreva crouched down before you, tucking a grimy lock of hair back from your face with disgusting care. “I’ve spent too long orchestrating this to let anything happen to you. Now, I know it will be harder without Naji to adjust that irritating little memory of yours, but you need to come back to us, Eight. We need you. Your brother needs you,” he murmured with the viper venom of an unfaithful lover. You didn’t fight it. You couldn’t. You let the yearning to be needed, the yearning to save consume you, and despite all the pain, all the agony Kreva had caused, you nodded slightly. “You were always my favourite subject, Eight,” he whispered, before turning back to Atlas and Rowan, the former’s eyes still trained on Erin’s lifeless body. “Deal with the bodies in the clearing. Wolverine, if you would be so kind.” He gestured back to where you hadn’t moved from the floor, and Logan stepped over you, roughly hooking his hands beneath your arms to tug you to your feet. An hour ago, you would have melted into his body, found comfort in those very same arms. 

Now all you felt was fear. Icy terror trickled down your spine where once you’d felt warmth. And whether it was because you still hadn’t processed everything you’d just lost in a heartbeat, you couldn’t discern, but your shattered heart felt the slightest phantom caress of his thumb against your bicep, the ghost of a reassuring squeeze.

The same gesture of comfort he’d give you if you were anxious in a meeting, or stressed before a class. 

Kreva glanced from where he was watching Atlas and Rowan stalk into the trees back to you, his brows raising as his eyes settled at the hollow of your throat, the golden locket glinting in the low light. With a tilt of his head, he took a step toward you, reaching out to where it rested against your neck.

“Firefly.”

Your spine straightened, breath caught in your throat as you realised. You hadn’t imagined the touch. It wasn’t some fucked up production of your overwhelming grief. With a swift slash of steel and a thick, wet crunch of splitting bone, there was a beat before you registered what had happened.

Kreva’s outstretched hand twitched on the gravel, blood staining the stone, no longer connected to his arm. There was a deafening scream of agony from the man before all hell broke loose. Shock had locked your limbs as you were shoved back, the crackle of lightning and resonating boom of thunder split the sky overhead, blasts of red energy igniting the treeline as a pitched ringing pierced your eardrums repeatedly. 

“Morgana…” You whispered, finally coming back to your senses and almost falling over yourself to get to the red-head lying limp on the floor. Sharp stones and pebbles bit into your knees as you skidded to her side, desperately rolling her onto her back to assess the damage. Her neck was swollen badly, bruises blooming around her throat. With two shaky fingers, you held them against her wrist, praying you’d feel something, anything that might even resemble a pulse. 

You waited, whilst various screams and roars echoed around you, you waited with bated breath, trying to concentrate on just feeling for her, your own panic rising the longer it took. 

“C’mon Morgo… c’mon!” You breathed frantically, pressing harder into her wrist as if you could pull a pulse from her arteries yourself. You tried to take a deep, calming breath, your own racing pulse getting in the way of feeling one for her. Quietening your mind, if only for a moment, you focussed, heart, leaping the moment you felt the slightest push from her wrist. Faint, slow, but there. 

A cry of relief tore from your throat as you gathered her in your arms, pressing your brow against hers. The rapid crunch of feet against gravel caused you to snap your head up, arms tightening around her body protectively, baring your teeth as Atlas raced towards you, his brows pinched. 

“It’s me, it’s me!” He held his hands up in surrender, and you blinked at him, confusion clouding your mind.

“Wh–– How? I don’t–”

“I don’t remember everything. Not like you do. But after you escaped, Kreva was so focused on Rowan that he almost forgot I was here. By the time he remembered, I let him think Naji had already worked on me. He showed me what I needed to know, that this was all a fucking lie.” His hands started to glow that healing blue, glowing particles flowing from his palms to wrap around Morgana’s neck, entering through the layers of her skin and repairing whatever it was Erin had broken.

Erin…

Oh fuck.

“Altas, I–”

“I’ll get to her in a second. Just… just give me a moment.” He hissed, the bruises around Morgana’s neck fading quickly as if they were never there. You still didn’t understand. Less than a minute ago, you were drowning in helplessness, forcing yourself to accept that you’d lost. Kreva had won. And now, as you finally raised your head to the chaos around you, you watched as he retreated into the facility, alarms blaring, crimson lights flaring.

And Logan, bloodstained and heaving, looking back to meet your eye. With one last glance to Atlas and a quickly healing Morgana, you struggled to your feet, taking a shaky step toward him. Then another. And another. 

Logan hesitated as he saw the trepidation on your face, his claws sinking back between his knuckles when you paused before him. He knew what you were searching for, your exhausted gaze flickering across his features and he let you see. Let you see that none of it had been real. Jean was alive and working on an unconscious Joes. Scott and Ororo were okay, Kitty by their side after securing the car park, all and any guards now buried beneath the ground suffocating. Kurt was alright, currently by Morgana’s side after bamfing onto the scene, his concern etched into his pinched eyebrows. 

“It was the only way we could get to you…” he explained softly, his voice bringing you back from the depths of suspicion, your features falling slack as you surged forward into his arms, and he wasted no time in wrapping you up, securing you against his chest.

“I thought I lost you,” You whispered raggedly against his neck, allowing the paralysing fear to leech from your heart. “I thought Naji–”

“He tried,” Logan interrupted tenderly, his fingers winding through the back of your hair. “But Scott got to him first. I’m sorry, Firefly. I’m so sorry. Joes is okay, Jean’s working on him now, but there wasn’t anything we could do for Naji��” He explained quietly, and you nodded a little numbly. In the face of losing everything, you guessed this was the best outcome you could have hoped for. 

“Where’s Rowan?” You asked, leaning into Logan’s touch as he cradled the side of your face, pulling you from the crook of his neck to look into your eyes.

“Still with Kreva. Bastard disappeared the moment Storm lit the place up. I think he’s lookin’ to burn everythin’ to the ground…”

Your breath hitched, remembering that this was Kreva’s backup plan. If he couldn’t get you back, he’d destroy everything and leave no evidence. Only the words of those who’d survive.

If anyone would survive. 

“I have to stop him. Rowan will destroy himself.” You explained, panic solidifying into determination as several muffled shouts echoed through the car park, torchlights waving erratically in the darkness and body upon armoured body flooded the entrance to the facility, three rows of masked guards pointed guns towards you and Logan. A low snarl left his lips, and he subtly moved you behind him, removing his hands from your body before his claws split through his skin.

A delicate hand on your shoulder made your head turn, Kitty’s steely smile telling you all you needed to know. She could get you there. Phase through bullets and bodies and get you to Rowan. To where you needed to be.

“Phasers forever, right?” She grinned, and you felt your own mouth split into a smile. Ororo flanked her left side, Scott sliding to a stop by Logan’s right. You knew this was it. This was the make or break. Either you succeeded here or you failed but no matter what, everything ended tonight. Right here. Where it all began. 

“Hey… freakshow!” You whipped to look behind you at the croaky, strained voice of Morgana, looking a little worse for wear but nonetheless on her feet. You sobbed a laugh of disbelief. “Give him hell for me, yeah? Fucker gets what’s comin’ to him.”

You grit your teeth, sending her a solid affirming nod, before turning back to the ranks in front of you. The back of Logan’s hand grazed your fingers, and it warmed your heart when you realised, even when faced with countless adversaries, he was still mindful not to hurt you with his claws. You brushed your thumb over his raised knuckles, bending your knees in preparation for the sprint of a lifetime, adrenaline coursing through your veins. 

“Let’s fucking go.” You hissed, taking the first step forward. 

And that was all that was needed for gunfire to reign supreme, bullets passing through your body thanks to Kitty’s touch on your shoulder, racing harmlessly through the prattle of shrapnel, Storm’s lightening striking the earth in front of you, Logan’s roar of pure, unfiltered rage fueling your every step. A burst of blinding hot energy exploded the front of the facility, rubble and brick crashing down in front of the door just as you stepped through the threshold, the immediate cacophony of battle muffling the moment you emerged on the other side. 

Pulling out of Kitty’s grip, you raced back to the ruined doorway, desperately pulling away rocks and wood. You needed to see him. You needed to make sure he was okay before you followed Rowan and Kreva. A loud thump rattled the remaining broken glass and you jumped back, watching as blood pooled on the floor, seeping through the remains of the porch. 

“We gotta go. They’ll be fine, okay? But they won’t be if you can’t stop Rowan.” Kitty urged, her hand returning to your shoulder to placate your panic. You knew she was right. You knew she was, and you knew you had to let it go. You trusted him. Of course you did. You trusted he would be okay. You’d seen him heal multiple times from so much worse than this. He’ll be okay.

He’ll be okay.

With a deep breath, you nodded, and she pulled your shoulder slightly in the direction of the elevator. It was surreal to think that, all this time, whilst you were screaming and suffering, this was above you. It looked no different to any other kind of research facility. Banners with cartoon images of trees hung from the ceiling, the words ‘Renewable Energy!’ plastered on every available surface. If you had the time, you would have looked around a bit to see just how the Kreva’s had managed to cover their tracks so damn well. But urgency pumped through your blood as you reached the elevator doors, almost punching the button through the damn wall.

But there was no response. No telltale ding. No little light. The power had been completely shut off. 

“Fuck’s sake!” You cursed, your eyes frantically searching for a shadow to slip into. But it was difficult to see with the crimson lighting constantly revolving in circles. This already wasn’t exactly going to plan, and with more voices dancing along from various forking hallways, you knew you were running out of time. 

“Okay, I got a plan,” Kitty stated confidently, crouching low to the seam of the doors and sticking her hand through the solid surface. “So, predictably, the elevator isn’t up here. But, I’m thinking that it’s gonna be real dark in the shaft, right?” She explained and you caught on quickly. “So I get us in there and you get us to the bottom without breaking either of our legs. Sound good?”

“Works for me.” You shrugged, sending one last look to the raging battle beyond the rubble. But when Kitty didn’t move, you looked back at her, raising a brow of confusion. “What?”

“Nothing… just wasn’t expecting you to agree, that’s all. Was kinda waiting for you to tell me you’ll figure it out yourself so yeah, a bit shocked…”

“Now is not the time.” You huffed, grabbing her wrist to place her hand back on your shoulder. “We’ll talk about my teamwork character arc later, ‘kay?” Kitty smiled wickedly, sticking half her body through the doors. 

“I’ll hold you to that.”

One moment you were in the lobby, the next you were falling through the elevator shaft. She was right above one thing. It was almost pitch black inside. Taking advantage of the low lighting, you gripped her tightly, releasing the threads on your body and pulling her into the shadows with you. The wind in your ears died instantly, and the feeling of gravity pulling you to your death ceased. You were nothing. You weighed nothing. You were a concept. Consciousness. A sense. You flowed like water and flew like time. 

And it took less than a second to drag yourself and Kitty down to the ceiling of the elevator below you, reassembling your molecules and knotting the threads of Kitty back together for her. She took a deep breath, her voice echoing up the shaft as she shook herself out. 

“God it always feels so weird! Does it feel weird when I phase you like that?” She asked, wiggling her fingers in front of her face to make sure they were all still there. You shook your head with a small chuckle, cracking your neck to the side. 

“Not really. Sure, it’s kinda weird to have shit pass straight through me, but not in this kinda way, I guess.” You shrugged, letting her gather herself back up before phasing the both of you through the ceiling of the elevator and through the closed doors. 

Now this was the facility you remembered. The images struck you like a ton of bricks. Clinical white hallways, bleached ceilings and walls, blinding lights on every damn surface. The stench of chemical cleaner and stale blood sent your empty stomach roiling and you had to fight the urge to dry retch. You knew where he’d be. At least, you could hazard a guess. There was always a room reserved for you and Rowan. It was your special little chamber where Kreva liked to run his experiments. A wall splitting the two of you, one drowned in shadow, the other illuminated with light. 

Steeling your nerves, you let your feet walk you down the world’s worst memory lane. For a place that had been destroyed seven years ago, they’d rebuilt it as if nothing had ever happened. Each corner was exactly the same. Each observation room was perfectly curated to mirror what it had been like before everything went to shit. It was all hauntingly familiar. 

“You okay…?” Kitty asked slowly, her eyes flickering across each laboratory you walked passed, and you didn’t have the heart to tell her you knew exactly what each and every room was for. You knew exactly what instruments lay where and what they did. You didn’t need her to know any of that. It wasn’t her burden to bear.

“Yeah… ‘m okay. S’wierd being back here, but I’m okay.” You responded truthfully, surprising yourself with how well you were taking it. It didn’t matter that every damn second you had to remind yourself you weren’t trapped here, and you were free and had been free of Kreva for the last two weeks, and the last seven years before that. You were okay. You would be okay. This was where everything ended. After this, you could do whatever the hell you wanted.

With Logan by your side. 

You rounded the corner and stopped as you came face to face with your past. Two doors stood opposite you. One for Five, and the other for Eight. For you. Kitty hung back as you squared your shoulders, taking the next few steps and using every ounce of faux confidence you could muster as you entered the code into the keypad, the one you’d seen Kreva or TS8 do so many damn times. With a hiss of machinery, the door slid open, and once again you had to remind yourself you were okay. He didn’t have you. You were free of him. 

The same table taunted you from the centre of the room. Worn leather straps lying limp on each four corners. You remembered every little detail of the steel. Every faded mark on the floor. You’d counted every little hole in the paneled ceiling and traced the round light above you as you waited for whatever experiment Kreva was about to run to start. What you never realised until now, however, was the one-way mirror across the far side of the room. You always assumed it was so you could watch whatever they were doing to you, simply yet another form of torture. But it only now occurred to you this was where the Kreva’s would watch from. This was where they would note down everything they discovered.

That was where he was now. You could almost fucking smell him. 

With a flick of your wrist, eight figures rose from the shadows in the room, each of them awaiting your command, twitching with apprehension. You didn’t need to say anything. You never did with them. Wordlessly, they each stood facing the mirror, arms raised, shadows writhing about their hands until they solidified into spiked maces. 

As one, eight shadows of your past shattered the glass effortlessly, shards of reflection scattering about their feet, revealing the observation room behind, the stench of fresh blood permeating the lab. 

Dissolving into the shadows, you reappeared beyond the window, finding a sick sense of satisfaction as you watched Kreva desperately clamber behind a console, papers and electronics clattering to the floor. You said nothing, those eight figures coming to stand patiently behind you, heads glitching and shifting. 

“I made you what you are.” He spat, blood dribbling from his mouth, his glasses shattered and sitting askew atop his nose, scarlet stump clutched against his chest. “This world would have torn you to pieces. I saved you from that. I harnessed your power. Everything I did was in the name of creating a better world!” 

You stalked forward with deadly quiet, letting the shadows overtake you and flank either side of the man whose family name had tortured you for over eighty years. You truly didn’t know what you would say to him if this moment ever came. You hadn’t let yourself think about it because you never thought it would.

But standing here, with all the power in your hands, a stark contrast to the rest of your life, you smiled. Not that warm, comforting smile you reserved only for the people you loved. You smiled like the edge of a knife, slicing through tender meat. You smiled like the adder before striking a rodent. You smiled like the shark after a meal. 

“You tortured me,” you began, one of the shadows lunging forward with clinical precision to land a blow through Kreva’s shoulder, relishing in the scream of agonised terror. “You tortured my friends,” another white-hot slice to his other hand, that same sick crunch of splitting bone as his hand flopped onto the floor. “You came for the people I care about,” a void-like hand thrust through his calf, blood and tendons exploding as the figure solidified its limb within his body, pieces of muscle and marrow splattering over the console and wall. “You tried to take the man I love,” you remembered vaguely Jade’s request, and though you didn’t command it, one of the shadows sent its foot straight into his crotch and Kreva doubled over, unable to scream through breathless agony. “And that very power you say you harnessed. That very power you nurtured,” you paused, crouching low and lifting his face akin to the way he’d done earlier at your lowest point. “I’m going to watch as it tears you apart.” You hissed, dropping his head to take a step back as every single on of those figures sank into his body, hiding within the shadows of his absent heart.

“Every part the demon I made you.” He gurgled, choking on his own blood.

“And so much more.” You responded as black tendrils entered his bloodstream, staining his veins, spiderwebbing up the side of his neck, invading his eyes before they rolled into the back of his head. You’d given them free rein to do what they wanted. You would let the shadows of your broken family get their revenge in any way they chose. 

Kreva convulsed on the floor, his back bowing as if possessed, limbs twitching and locking, foam gathering at the corners of his mouth as his death was elongated, pain creasing his eyes, mouth agape in a silent scream as your shadows tore apart every fibre of his being, 

On a molecular level.

He fell silent for a moment, stilling on the ground, before there was a loud, earsplitting crack, and you barely had time to raise a solid wall of darkness before entrails and tissue painted every surface crimson, white sharks of bone piercing into the walls, embedding into the ceiling. 

The wet dripping of pulp falling from the ceiling was the only sound in the following silence, the weight of the moment settling on your shoulders, forcing you to your knees. 

He was dead.

Kreva was dead. 

The man who’d caused so much pain. So much terror. Who’d forced you to commit the worst acts of humanity, the sole reason for the overwhelming self-hatred…

He was dead. 

You felt a sob rise in your throat, and you set it free, your shoulders shaking from the sheer force of your cries. Every moment of torture. Every fibre of agony released in your earthshaking screams, your voice scratching, tearing at your throat. You knew the moment couldn’t last. You knew you still had to find Rowan. But with Kreva dead, your chances of getting him back had just increased tenfold. 

Bracing your hands against the cool floor, you let yourself tremble under the weight of freedom, feeling the ghost of shackles around your wrists and ankles fall away, the claws around your neck releasing. 

“You killed him…”

You drew in a shaky breath, the familiarity of that voice tugging at the threads of your heart. Struggling to your feet, you turned to face your brother, Rowan standing in the shadows of the room made for you, his eyes wide with an emotion you couldn’t quite read.

“Yeah. It’s over, Rowan. You’re safe now. We’re all safe now. You can come home with me,” you breathed, extending your hand toward him through the shattered mirror. “You don’t have to hurt anymore. I’m here. I’m here…” you reassured, taking a step toward the gap between you with the intention of drawing him into your arms.

“You killed him…” he said again, his expression shifting to something you recognised all too well. “You abandoned me here, to suffer at the hands of these demons, and you killed the only man who showed me any kindness…”

You blinked as the lights on the console flared slightly. “No… that’s what he made you think. That’s what you remember because it was a memory he put there. But it isn’t real. Come with me. I can show you. Please… I can show you everything.” You begged, suffering the slice to your hand as you slid through the shattered glass of the mirror, now standing opposite him, arms open. “It’s okay… you’re safe now. He’s gone. You’re–”

You didn’t have time to finish your sentence before a flare of pure light from the hallways beyond blasted you to the side, your spine cracking against the wall, head splitting with the impact. Your vision blurred slightly, pain exploding in your mind as you struggled to regain your breath. Through the swimming haze, you could see Kitty’s arm on the door through the doorway, the rest of her body lying still on the ground beyond. 

“You took everything from me.” Rowan loomed over you, glowing wings of light flaring wide from his shoulder blades. “Now I’m going to take it all back.”

Logan heaved a snarling breath as he retracted his claws from the helmeted head of yet another faceless guard, casting a calculating glance at the bodies littering the ground, some fried, some missing various limbs, but all dead. Soaked in blood, he watched as Scott sent another beam through one of the last men standing, Ororo sending another flying over the treetops with pinpoint accuracy. 

The car park fell still as the final assailant was annihilated, falling headless to its knees, body twitching before falling still. It was eerie how silent the night felt after so much bloodshed, but Logan’s thoughts immediately turned back to you. You were down there somewhere, stopping Rowan however you could. Was Kreva still alive? Or had you already dealt with him?

A darker question entered his head, and it drove him to move. 

Were you still alive?

“Scott, I need a doorway,” was all he said, pacing over to the crumbled ruins blocking the door. Surprisingly, there was no flood of protests from Cyclops, only a sharp nod of agreement before a beam of white-hot energy sailed through the rubble, melting rocks and burning wood effortlessly. Logan breathed a quick “Thanks,” before breaking into a run, mindful to avoid the liquid fire Scott had created before he was jogging through the lobby, red lights reflecting off every surface. It was the perfect representation of his mind when his ears twitched, catching a distant scream from below. 

He breathed your name, panic sending his heart racing as he spared a quick glance to the rest of the team behind him, Ororo immediately picking up on his change of demeanour. 

“Go. We’ll clean up the rest here.” She urged as more torches pointed down either side of the hallway into the lobby. How many more of these fuckers were there? But he trusted they could handle it. He had to trust them if he wanted to get to you. With a sharp nod of gratitude, Logan turned back to the elevator, his claws sinking through the surface and cutting out a square large enough to fit through. He couldn’t look back, not as the prattle of gunfire started up again.

With his heart in his throat, Logan plunged into the darkness, slicing his claws through either side of the steel walls to slow his descent, sparks and the pitched squeal of slicing metal accompanied his fall until his feat touched a solid surface. Crouching low, he sliced through the top of the elevator, jumping through the gap before repeating the same thing on the double doors. He remembered the last time he was here, the familiar panic as he searched for you, hoping that you’d be okay, praying that you’d still be alive. He felt that same urgency now as he raced down the hallways, the lights above flaring and dimming erratically. 

Rowan.

It had to be. 

There couldn’t be any other explanation. 

The thought had him moving faster, enhanced hearing picking up every clash of power, every hiss of shadow and burst of light. 

Every pained gasp. 

You panted heavily, blood leaking from your nose as you once again rose to your feet, shadows swirling around your finger on one hand, your other cloaked in a blade of darkness as you faced your brother. 

No, this wasn’t your brother anymore. This was Solaris. This was your equal and your opposite. A similar rivulet of crimson flowed down over his lip, the result of the harsh punch you’d thrown at him before, his nose now sitting at a crooked angle. The wall between your rooms had been obliterated, dust and rubble littering the ground where he’d thrown you through into his assigned lab. Darkness in the light. Light in the darkness. You opposed each other, twin wings flaring threateningly. 

You couldn’t talk him out of this. You needed him to back down of his own free will. You couldn’t teleport him out of here like you could the others. But you knew he was too far gone. You knew you couldn’t get him to stop.

But you couldn’t fail here. 

A sharp call of your name distracted you for a moment, your black eyes widening as you saw Logan in the doorway, his expression frantic as he looked you over, from the tip of your blade to the claws of your wings. 

Solaris looked between you, a roar of betrayed agony tearing from his lips as he lunged forward, his own blade of light swinging in a high arc above his head to split your skull. You met him blow for blow, parry for parry, fighting to ignore Logan’s presence in the door. With a stray gesture, you raised a solid wall of shadow before him, an immovable, impenetrable barrier between him and your brother. 

Logan stepped back as a solid wall of darkness rose from the ground, pressing his hand against it to test its durability. What the hell did you think you were doing? Why were you stopping him? He pushed against it, finding finding equal resistance. Pushing again, he was met with his own strength coming back at him. His breath caught in his throat. Through the shifting shadow, he could see your silhouette standing against Solaris, the two of you having separated for a moment before trading blows once again. Logan sent his fist colliding into the wall, feeling the crack of bone before his hand quickly healed and he tried again. 

With half your concentration focused on keeping up the barrier protecting the man you loved, you received the point of Solaris’ blade through your abdomen, your gut twisting with pain as you strained a gasp, hearing Logan’s roar of despair fueled rage from behind the now flickering wall. Solaris pulled his blade back, his eyes nothing but pits of blinding light, the opposite of your own. 

“You can’t save them. You will burn.” He spat, taking a step back as you fell to a knee, pain consuming your system as you tried in vain to cover the wound with your hand, crimson blood flowing through your fingers like sand. 

But he was wrong. He was so wrong. Golden light started to flare from the centre of his chest, erasing every shadow from the room, and bleaching the surfaces of darkness. All shadows bar one. 

All shadows but your own. 

Charles’ words echoed through your head. ‘She cannot disappear into her own shadow or she will be lost.’ ‘That’s why we called you back. We’ve been lucky so far.’

Closing your eyes, you let a stray tear slip down your cheek, and Logan’s heart stilled in his chest. 

“No… No, no NO!” His voice ripped through his throat, claws slashing at the wall of darkness you managed to maintain. “Don’t– Don’t do THIS PLEASE! DON’T… don’t do this.” His words diminished as you turned to look through the barrier, a small smile of acceptance pulling at the corners of your lips, blood staining your teeth. 

You could save them. You could save them all. 

And all it would cost was your life. 

“Til one of us keels over…” you offered him one last promise before you surged forward to where Solaris burned bright, and he barely had time to scream your name as your own shadow flared up around you as you leapt into the blaze, your body disintegrating into shadow.

Logan watched as darkness consumed the glow, a visceral battle between shadow and light, your mutation finally releasing itself around your brother, dragging him into the void with you. The wall fell away, fading back into nothing as he lost you to the very thing you were training against. 

A prison of your own making hummed where you’d leapt forward, a sphere of glassy void, both you and your brother locked away safely where he couldn’t hurt anyone…

And he could never see you again. 

An ever-changing cell of light and dark. 

He lunged forward, vocal cords ripping in his throat as he screamed your name again and again, punching against the surface until his knuckles bled and blood splattered across the floor. Breath singed his lungs as he sobbed. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was going to spend the rest of his life with you. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. 

So why was the rest of your life taken from you? Why did he have to spend the rest of his life alone? Why was he always fucking alone? He only just got you back.

And you were gone again. This time, for good. 

You saved him. You saved him from so many sleepless nights. So many times he’d wake up to find comfort in your slow breathing next to him, placing the side of his head against your chest, feeling your breaths, listening to your heartbeat. You saved him. But the price of doing so was losing you.

Strength left his body as he crumbled to his knees. This had been your choice. You’d sealed yourself away in a cell of flickering light and swirling shadow, imprisoning Solaris along with you for the rest of time. You’d disintegrated into your own silhouette like Charles had constantly warned you against. And you’d done it to save the people that you love. 

Logan placed his hand against the buzzing wall of light and dark, pressing his forehead against the incarnation of your mutation, hoping against hope that somehow, somewhere, you were still in there. Your whispered name fell from his lips, tears falling ceaselessly to darken the floor in droplets, his head bowed low. The light from within flared and faded rhythmically, glowing inside the empty black of shadow. 

Much like the light of a firefly. 

“Please…” he whispered. “I love you. I love you.” His chest was wracked with silent sobs.

“Logan!” Ororo’s voice echoed through the chamber as she slid to a stop in the doorway, a gasp flying from her lips. “What…?” She could barely comprehend what she was seeing. “Where is she?” She asked quietly, her footsteps too loud in the grieving silence of the room. He couldn’t find his voice through the choking heartbreak in his throat. 

“Logan…?” Morgana stepped carefully through the doorway, a badly injured Kitty supported by her shoulder, blood leaking from a wound on her head. The redhead fell silent as she realised what had happened. “She did it…” she whispered, melancholy lacing her tone. “She did it.”

A new wave of grief suffocated his chest as her words struck his heart. You had. You’d done it. But in doing so, you’d sacrificed everything. 

“No…” Kitty whimpered, struggling to free herself from Morgana’s hold to get to you. “That’s not her… it’s not her!” She cried, staggering forward only to fall to the ground a few steps later, a yelp of grief-stricken pain piercing the air. Logan looked back numbly, his eyes meeting hers as she looked at him pleadingly. “Tell me… tell me it’s not her…” she begged, her voice thick with emotion. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t tell her it wasn’t you. And the longer his silence lingered, the more hope drained from her eyes and she sobbed into her arm.

It was all he could do to go to her and drag her into his arms, listening to his own heartbreak shatter in every single one of her cries. He screwed his eyes shut, letting her shudder in his arms. 

“I’m sorry…” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

He knew there was nothing he could have done. You’d sealed him out for a reason. You’d shut him away because you knew this was what you’d have to do. And you knew he would have stopped you. He would let the world burn for you, but you wouldn’t allow it. Because living with himself after would have been impossible.

You saved him from that. You’d saved him from himself. 

“She's gone…?” Scott asked softly, joining the grieving group and reading the room. Morgana nodded in confirmation, and his jaw tightened. It was then Logan knew this wasn’t what he wanted. He spoke the truth when he’d said all those months ago he didn’t want you gone. He didn’t want you neutralised. 

“She saved our lives…” Ororo offered quietly, as if fearful her voice would break if she spoke any louder. Logan turned back to the sphere of shadow and the light pulsing within.

You’d saved so many people in your life. A sharp contrast to how many you’d hurt. But he knew you’d be happy with this. You were okay with this. Your last act was one of saving, not hurting. So he would live for you. He would live in a way you’d be proud of. Placing his hand back against the surface of your mutation, he let the promise seep through his palms as if somehow you could hear his intentions. 

“See you soon, Firefly.”

[ariathelamia]

Hellhound HRT Month 9.5, (4 month Wolf, 5.5 month Hellhound)

Warning: This story gets a bit dark at the end.

Tic Tacs and New Clothes… 

Well… This little segment is gonna be hard to remember…. but remember I must… … since I myself… actually am unable to write or record anything right now but… ngh… better recount the steps on what got me into this predicament… 

So there I was, strolling down the shopping street of Hyper City, slurping some cold soda I got from the restaurant since I really needed something to keep me cool today. Since I pretty much burned through all my favorite shirts and tops except for this one, trying to get a hang on that flaming core of mine. Speaking of! Something I noticed about the fur on my chest is that some of it started to get REALLY solid… From the looks of it, the texture it’s taking on really reminds me of what Nyarlathotep and Mars have on their heads… I believe I remember Mars calling it a “crest”, another sign that I myself am not just becoming any kinda hellhound… but an Eldritch one. Don’t think I ever heard of something like that existing, which means there’s no one I can really ask about what to expect but to be fair… when was this ever the case in my transition, ever since I did that ritual. I shrug to myself, thinking that hey, just gotta be the first one so I can teach others that might choose this down the line~ sorta like Felic- i mean Felix that helped me figure out how to work my tail. Thinking about that just made me kinda excited, and I just had to give that pill bottle in my pocket a little tab… why was I so goddamn stupid to bring it with me… 

I decided to go get some tic tacs at a kiosk, was craving sweets that day like crazy! 

Putting those in my left pocket I strolled down the street, without a care when I accidentally bumped into someone…. A woman, not much taller than I was in a blue dress, I got worried that I might have hurt her… maybe she bumped into my chest? I didn't know so I sprung up and helped her. Looks like i wasn’t the first person she bumped into today, and she decided to be kind enough to suddenly and unexpectedly pat the dirt off my pants and shirt. I was trying my best to keep her hand that was patting my shirt from accidentally touching my crest so she didn’t cut or burn herself. After she was satisfied she stood straight, dusted herself off as well and then looked me in the eyes… something about them was odd… they were kinda… glassy, oh god was she about to cry?... no it seemed different... (Of course it felt different-... that's when it must have happened-... god i was such an idiot.. AM such an idiot-... urgh… focus FOCUS!!) 

We… said our goodbyes and she left down the road smiling… I sighed, put my hand into my right pocket and pulled out the little tic tac bottle… popped two into my mouth and-... god they tasted weird…  still sweet but something about them was off… they melted quickly and i decided to just shrug it off to my taste being different now, and headed to my destination.

A friend of mine told me how, when she transitioned into a Lamia, she definitely needed some fitting clothes that also kept her warm and mobile, and found this pretty awesome place that apparently other people she knew frequented and keeps all kinds of pretty cool clothes for pretty much any kinda therian out there.  So yeah i hoped they also had something fireproof that doesn’t melt or burn away, but also got more style than that stupid blue and gray hospital shirt they gave me in bulk…

So yeah I ended up finding that place pretty quickly, the “Heart Mender Boutique”. Looked pretty neat from the outside… but something made my hair stand up for a second when I decided to enter…  By now I could already tell, something bigger hid in this place. But I just shrugged it off, popped a few more tic tacs from my dispenser I grabbed out of my right pocket.. must have been like… 10 or 12 at once… after all the first two pretty much disappeared right away. That same shiver ran through my body again and I had to stop myself from gagging… even though the taste didn't seem so bad?? damn my body was getting weird (... getting weird my ass…) …. Anyway I looked around for a second by myself, checking some of the strange designs they had, some of these shirts were HUUUUGE, others really freaking tiny… some had extra sleeves for wings or extra arms… some were a bit more loose which probably could fit some nice amount of furr in, without pressing it all against your body… pant’s with tail holes… clothes that were waterproof… there were even some labeled to be “Shapeshift resistant”... still wonder how THAT works… but i couldn’t really find the fireproof ones… if they even had any… so I had decided to look around for some customer service… Didn’t take me long to find some that seemed to know what they were doing. There was a older woman, dressed in a lavender dress and a purple overcoat, neat dark purple hairstyle and a certain skin complexion that i just couldn’t remember the name of, even if i tried, who did later introduce herself as Willow, talking to another, younger employee with messy long hair and a clothing style that was quite more my kinda thing, which i would find out is called Samara. I approached the two since I weirdly felt even the slightest bit of a connection to them in my gut, waving to the two and interrupting their talk.

As it turned out I hit the jackpot since Willow was apparently one of the owners of the store, who was quite happy to help me out. Not that the other one wasn’t giving me a few looks up and down, already checking me out to probably see what kinda clothes could fit… though now that i think back on it… she did seem a bit tense after i approached… just like willow… but i just wrote it off to having been suddenly pulled out of their conversation by a hellhound with a smoking hot top… literally. Anyway after I put out the smolder on my shirt, I got led to a section of the store I must have missed before. She showed me how some of these clothes here were worn by all kinds of species with a bit more heat to go around… elementals, dragons… and apparently we also found something that seemed to be quite a fit for me. Some neat shirts with logos of bands and places I never heard of… but seemed to be popular where Willow came from. Turns out these were apparently styles from, what i knew as the “Sonic and Shadow” franchise, which i formerly thought were simply video games… leave it to Hyper City’s connection to basically every kinda dimension to make you realize that… reality is a lot more wobbly than you thought, (and that comes from someone who’s been pulled through eldritch dimensions).  While I was picking out some clothes, with the help of Willow and Samara, having a nice chat with them about our… quite similar experiences when it came to interactions with other citizens, we were approached by a third person… A man that looked about the age of Willow, his hair was slightly graying, styled in dreadlocks with a few golden ornaments, glasses just like Willow… a large loose overcoat with simple beige pants and a black shirt. Now with all three around me I couldn't help but notice that… the feeling I had when I stepped into this building was largely coming from the presence these three gave off… I meant to mention it in our talk but… well lets just say the man who introduced himself as Dominic, apparently the husband of Willow, seemed to be quiet… intrigued by me… as in… he started to hide his real intend of “interviewing” me, with casual smalltalk and a lot of questions. He was very formal.. like.. uncomfortably so, but that's probably just a me thing since formality to me is just uninteresting behavior… I usually keep stuff close to the chest and speak my mind as thought. Anyway he asked me a bunch of stuff about my transition, how it’s going, what kinda other changes could be expected so that we could look for clothing that has those in mind… I didn't know it was just odd to me so I kept the fact I clocked them as other eldritch beings to myself for now. They were very good at hiding that fact but… I have been around mars and that stupid tentacle bitch enough to be able to kinda.. feel that connection and recognize it, even if it is as well hidden as theirs is.

Why did I hide it? … Well my record with eldritch has been 50/50 right now, and i don’t know if these are like mars who transitioned… or like Nyarlarthotep who were born this way and i didn’t wanna get more eyes like THAT on me… 

I tried to keep my answers as short and truthful as I can, while still just trying to pick out some clothes for myself. They were nice overall but that could be just a charade… maybe… urgh i hate how paranoid i have become… if only i had talked to them more openly… maybe what happened later could have been prevented… maybe they could have helped out now… 

I did end up buying a bunch of clothes to replace those i lost, taking a quick look at the “looking for part timers” poster behind the counter and putting that at the back of my head, and popped a few more tic tacs since damn, all that talking and questioning and finding out made the sugar craving pop up again. I did get a quite confused look from Samara who was packing the clothes when I did that… Asking me if that’s normal… I did raise an eyebrow myself, holding out the now almost empty pack of tic tacs to her and asking if she wanted one… she declined quite profusely and just finished packing the bag and handed it to me… maybe she’s allergic?... Are eldritch allergic to tic tacs? WILL I BE ALLERGIC TO THEM? IS THAT WHY THEY TASTED SO FUNNY?!... It’s kinda embarrassing what mental gymnastics i did there…

I grabbed one of those store cards with me and waved them goodbye, vowing to return for some more clothes once I get more money…. I hope I can still keep that vow…. 

Everything seemed perfect… I got a bunch of new clothes… met some quite nice people… had no ill run in with a pedestrian calling me slurs or a danger… and i even finished my pack of tic tacs… I had put my new clothes into my home, actually put one on ‘cause the one I was wearing had a couple burn holes by now… weird how that happened even though i had made sure to keep myself calm and happy at best… anyway i decided to do one last stroll through hyper city to end the day… best decision I made cause otherwise I’d probably be homeless after this. 

While strolling through the streets I ended up noticing that… my legs felt really bad.. like.. they hurt quite a bit so i decided to find a place to sit down… ended up walking into an old skate park i knew was around the corner.. plenty of benches and space here. I was texting my Therapist about the day, her name is Amber, it’s the one Mars frequently goes to and recommended to me. For someone who works with Erian she’s actually quite nice and really helpful! Though while texting my phone suddenly seemed to overheat… luckily i managed to send her a last message about where i’m headed for the night, just to finish off my report of the task she gave me to get those clothes and get some sense of normalcy. 

That's when things got bad… Not only did my phone overheat.. it started to melt in my hand! that's a baaaaaaad sign of overheating for me.. I quickly dropped it to keep the damage minimal and to the casing alone, can’t afford to burn through another-.. and did a check on my core. It was BLINDINGLY bright after i removed the shirt… how did i not notice that?! How did I not notice how hot I was actually getting!? I looked behind me and noticed the smoking smoldering footprints I left behind me and panicked… I NEVER got THAT hot before. I looked down, noticing not only that I pretty much burned off my pants and boots, which were  sadly not AS fire resistant as my top, but also that… I was literally melting the concrete ground beneath me. This is bad… really bad. I did here the clattering of my tic tac pac which must have just fallen through the remains of my pocket, when I noticed something that shook me to the core. In front of my very eyes, that tic tac bottle seemed to shift- INTO THE BOTTLE THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO HOLD MY HRT MEDS!

How was this- why !? Empty!? when- the tic tacs- oh no… no no no no no NO NO NO!!!!

With that realization… came the pain… like my body was finally allowed to register things again. At a very bad time. The heat was disastrously painful… I felt like I passed out and got jolted up by it alone multiple times before I even hit the floor… hit the floor? When was I even falling… Why couldn’t I feel my feet anymore?!

That question got answered the second I looked down… My feet had literally broken off by the ankles, as I was looking at the crumbling bits of paw formed ashes that used to be MY paws. I clutched my chest as I heard the park's sprinkler system spring to life, though the water even didn’t make it halfway to my body to give me that sweet release of cold I so desperately craved by this point. The park quickly filled up with a thick fog of smoke and steam… and I could feel myself slowly sinking into the ever melting ground beneath me.

By then I also started to lose the feeling in my hands that were clutching my chest… I looked at the slowly graying claws and fingers that broke off of my body, like the ashes of a cigarette that could no longer hold on to the rest of it. I started vomiting up thick globs of red and gold glowing liquids, whose consistency reminded me of magma… were those my organs that melted?!  Probably…

I couldn’t help but be reminded of that time I met Nyarlathotep… she warned me… how I would end up burning up into a pile of ashes… I thought she was just trying to scare me… I never thought she was actually right… 

Tears of the same kinda hot liquid started streaming down my face.. by now the only thing i could feel was heat… and pain… and fear. I didn’t want to die… I DON’T want to die… 

In my head I kept crying out for help… the only thing that kept me from crying out in my voice was that my lower jaw had already turned to ashes itself. Only pathetic noises and yelps of pain came out of that fiery half maw of mine. As my body seemed to be covered by darkness.. and brimstone. 

Something I hadn't noticed and only started to realize later, was that the smoke and steam covered up the strange material that formed out of the molten concrete and whatever my body was leaking at the time… until it formed a hard shell that must look like a black and red glowing blister on the ground.  Despite not having a heart anymore… at least none that i could feel… I could still hear a beat…  The shell itself seems to beat LIKE a heart… with every single one the glow intensifies for a second.. before dying down… The beating of this shell… this Chrysalis… ended up calming me down enough to realize that… the pain was… gone?... I… was gone… but yet I was still here… molten and broken down into what I believe to be a shining sphere of heat… is this what it thought to be my flame organ?.. 

Whatever it is.. it seemed to contain everything of me… my entire being was now condensed to this single, white and gold glowing orb… 

I don’t know what is going on… and I am beginning to more and more lose my grip on reality itself… I keep rerunning these memories in my… i wanna say head but… urgh i don't know!!

I can hear the noise of sirens outside… some people shouting orders… but they are too muffled to make out what they are saying..  I feel myself slipping away again… when will I wake up again?... Will I be able to recount what happened today?... Is it even still today?...

Will “I” even be the one waking up again? … Why can’t I help but imagine this damn grin of Nyarlathotep… telling me in her obnoxious voice how she was right…?

Why is it that I somehow WANT to see her again…? 

Damn… here comes the darkness again-... so… calming… so…

...

----------------------------------------

Edit: FORGOT TO MENTION!! Samara, Willow and Dominic, as well as the Heart Mender Boutique were created by the wonderful @home-sweet-hive and star in his ??? HRT series!! Go check it out!!

Also the Nyarlathotep mentioned in this story appears in @dawning-mars Eldritch HRT! Definitely check it out, it's amazing!! It even has me in it now X3 - Nia

Start | Previous | Next (Coming Soon?)

[lavender-twilight23]

~Lavender’s Marvel Re-entry Record~

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (2021) (1 Season)

Date Finished: April 27, 2025

Rewatch (to prep for The Thunderbolts*!)

Favorite character(s): Bucky

Ratings (out of ten)

Characters: 6/10

Pacing: 6/10

Performances: 8/10

My rating: 5.5/10

Describe the project in one word: Mid

Favorite thing: The exploration of Bucky’s character post-Endgame and the development of Bucky and Sam’s relationship.

Least favorite thing: Dr. Raynor

Favorite scene(s): Bucky getting deprogrammed by Ayo in Wakanda in 1x4

Notable quote(s):

“Hello. How are you?”

“Good. What did I miss? Nothing.”

(basically just all of Sam and Bucky’s banter in 1x2)

General thoughts: 

The show is very entertaining and it keeps my attention! But I wouldn’t call it one of the better MCU shows. Its high points are very high, and the low points are very low.

High points: Bucky and Sam’s characters are a joy to see grow through this show, both individually and as partners. I love seeing more of Bucky’s relationship with the Wakandans and that dynamic, as well as Bucky finding his way in the world again. The opening scene of 1x4 is one of my favorite MCU scenes EVER because it fed my hunger for Bucky whump as well as Sebastian got to flex his acting SO hard. And it’s the first time we’ve ever seen Bucky full-on cry. Which as a whump lover, I’ve always wanted :P I also love the introduction to Sam’s family!

My in-the-middle point I guess is John Walker. I’m super excited to see him back for The Thunderbolts*, first of all! His character is REALLY interesting, if not a little morally grey, and I look forward to seeing him in the future of the MCU outside of The Thunderbolts* too. But when I first watched TFATWS, I was so blinded by hate for his character that I couldn’t see him as anything other than the villain, or, one of them. I refused to believe that he had redeemable qualities and was filled with a seething hate for him every time he walked on screen. Since then, I’ve read and watched a bunch of things and I’ve actually grown to, not love his character, but definitely respect it, and I’m actually invested in the future of his character!

Low points: Dr. Raynor and Karli and the Flag Smashers. I was never really fond of the Flag Smashers and overall, Karli as a big bad. I can see what Marvel was trying to do with Karli, they were trying to create a sympathetic villain who had been driven to this point through being treated unjustly, but I really don’t think it worked? I can’t really pinpoint why, but I never connected with her. I didn’t really care when she died, I didn’t feel anything for her. I do like the development in the last episode where her closest followers and friends didn’t say the motto back because they were no longer comfortable with how low Karli was stooping. But overall, I didn’t care for Karli, I’m glad to see her in the past of the MCU and I like the kind of neutral status the Flag Smashers have since most of them were apprehended and then there was the whole ‘Zemo got the last laugh’ cliffhanger at the end.

With Dr. Raynor? Oh my God here we go– I despise Dr. Raynor so much. This is one view I’ve had about this show that has not changed since first seeing it when TFATWS was coming out. She is a shit therapist and Bucky deserves so much better. I’ve heard her described as the therapist Bucky needed because she calls him out on his bullshit and meets him halfway with his stubbornness. Okay, yes, but there’s pushing back against his stubbornness and ‘tough love’ and all that, and then there’s flat-out INSULTING him during sessions and violating his boundaries and clearly making him uncomfortable by writing in the notebook which Bucky voices that he doesn’t like, being dismissive of him opening up and actually being vulnerable, and then just… AHHHH I REALLY hate her character. I think they try to brush it off as oh she was a soldier too so it’s okay, they can relate and blah blah blah– NO. When Bucky says that he wants peace and Dr. Raynor says “that is utter bullshit” pissed me off SO much. What’s wrong with wanting peace???? And yeah sure that’s broad, but you can dig deeper and investigate that answer instead of calling his whole display of vulnerability ‘utter bullshit.’ And then when Dr. Raynor says the whole “but you’ve got your mind back, you are being pardoned, I mean, these are good things. You’re free.” I have so many issues with that. Not the words themselves, but the WAY she says it, especially compared to how Ayo said “you’re free” in the deprogramming scene in 1x4. Ayo says it as a comfort and it means so much and holds so much weight coming from her AND due to the situation/circumstances. When Dr. Raynor says it, and HOW she says it, she just sounds so DONE and so DISMISSIVE. Almost like she’s saying ‘you’re free, there you go, what’s the problem?’ Just because Bucky has control over his life and his choices now doesn’t mean that he’s ‘free’ from all of his trauma and pain. Overall, Dr. Raynor pissed me off so much and it genuinely hurt to see ‘therapy’ scenes with her. It seemed like Bucky said a permanent goodbye to her in the show’s finale though, so hopefully we won’t be seeing her again.

In short, this show is entertaining with some really fun and wholesome moments, good action, and some good emotional depth at times, but it’s not much else, I wouldn’t say it’s anything special. But if I were to turn it on during a rainy Saturday, I would enjoy it.

(All Marvel re-entry record reviews are under the tag #my marvel record)

[kenniel-fanfic-readerinsert]

Forget the Past, Enjoy the Present (Jack Salter x Reader)

_

lame *ss title.

Disclaimers:

1. I should be sleeping

2. It's been like... 6 years? since the last time I wrote a fanfic

3. I am sorry for the cringey writing, I needed to get this out of my system

4. I only saw the movie 1 time, I hope I can go again before they remove the movie in the cinema

5. annddddd I don't own brands, names and etc. Only the cringe plot

5.5. I don't know much of how motorsports work, maybe when I have more free time I will write something really good, in the meanwhile, I ' m r e a l l y s o r r y

6. Jesus, David Harbour, I love you

Part 2 or a remake of this, yess

There is like a 10 year age gap, I believe Jack was in his 30s when the accident happened, so Reader is in their 20s making their way on racing things.

Italics for past time and details about yourself

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15 years ago…

“This is devastating” a car race has gone wrong before, but this wrong? “Jack Salter seems to have lost track of his path along with another racer. Everyone at the expectation of what is going to happen next.

“Is he all right?” Jack asked while the paramedics were taking him into the ambulance “He seems to be stable, we need to hurry”, assured his trainer.

“You’ll be okay, Jack, don’t fall sleep” he heard a familiar voice before getting unconscious.

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Present Time

Jack got a call from that stupid gremlin Danny Moore while he was working. Gamer racers? People who probably never drove a real car before on these powerful vehicles? Crazy idea, but here he was.

“Oh, but our special team is not complete yet” Danny was showing him the GT Academy, but once they reached the racetrack for the academy he stopped at the pits. Jack just sighs. “Now what?”

“I want our racers to have a different kind of life experience besides yours” Moore gave him a little smile.

“Stop talking around the bush, who is it”

“Well, you know them”

Jack just closed his eyes.

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A demi sport sedan of (your design) was nearing them on the pits. The driver’s door opened reveling a (your hair color) person. They got closer to them. The marketing expert clapped his hands and opened his arms to embrace Y/N in a hug.

“Can’t believe you still are so energetic, Daniel” Y/N greeted him. He smiled but also sensed the tension between the other two. He pulls apart from Y/N and gestured to Jack “I’m pretty sure you remember this big guy”, Moore gave Jack a gentle pat in his belly, making the taller man grunt.

“Of course, hard to forget a man with his nose. Hello, Jack”

“Hello, Y/N” they gave each other a quick look and turn their eyes to any other place possible.

Danny clapped his hands again “Well, let’s get to it!” He gave both Jack and Y/N a pat on their backs before leaving to greet the players.

Once they saw the gaming racers arrive and Jack gave them a depressing speech, Danny introduced Y/N to relieve the pressure of the competitors. “Hello, I’m Y/N, I love racing so much that I’m an Industrial Designer to understand better everything about cars. I’m a racer but since I was young, I participated in street racing. That’s why Daniel here wanted me in the team, to teach you about how savage real racers will be with you.” They gave them a wink before getting in their place behind Danny.

“All right, get comfy guys, but not so much because you start your training tomorrow” the marketer for Nissan dismissed everyone.

Jack was left confused, so they got a degree to understand more about cars?

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A couple months before the accident

“Hey, you know it wasn’t your fault, right?” they said, Y/N’s fingers touching only with the tip of the fingers in his shoulder.

“Yes it was, I should’ve more careful!” he got angry, everyone kept saying that it wasn’t his fault, that maybe could have happened with another person. He push Y/N’s hand away, but they got used to that reactions.

“Besides, what do you know about safety? The only track you know is the street, you have never been in a real race” He added fueled by the anger remembering the crash and the loss of a life.

“Is as dangerous if not more, but whatever, I tried everything to cheer you up, but it seems that you never bear my presence. I’m sorry, I hope you find peace someday.”

Y/N met Jack when they started to become more interested in racing in a professional way, not that they doesn’t enjoy street racing, but earning cups and medals looked really nice.

Jack doesn’t say anything nor gives them a glance. They picked their things up and left him alone in silence.

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The team of Danny Moore, Jack Salter and Y/N worked just fine, even if the racers ended up with mixed instructions from the older racers. Moore found it problematic, he needed Jack to be synergic with Y/N so the racers could get better and better.

“Jack, my brother”

“We are not brothers”

“Oh, c’mon, we been working for days now.”

“Whaddaya need” Jack didn’t enjoy when people interrupted his Walkman’s sessions.

“Welp, always straight to the point. The three of us, we are making a great team, but no perfect.”

If Jack got a cent for every time he sighs for something that came out of Danny’s mouth, he will have tons of money. “Now what, just tell me and I will work on it”

“Nice of you to say that. Apologize to Them”.

Jack lifted his eyebrows surprised. “You think that’s the issue? We are fine, we talk the necessary.”

“Yeah, like divorced parents. That’s the problem”

“…”

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“I liked the turn you made on that weird curb, but next time…” Y/N really takes pleasure in giving feedback to the young drivers. Jack approached and cleared his throat; the other instructor paused at the interruption and turned their head.

“Yes…?” Y/N raised a brow, clearly confused because Jack never shared a word with them aside from things related with the competitors or Danny (Danny himself is a topic).

“Can we… uh, talk, like the two of us” he tried to say as quiet as possible so the others couldn’t hear.

“Sure, let me finish with them” Y/N gave some last instructions to the gamers and then followed him far from the pits.

“Well, I don’t know how to start”

“Why are we here, then” Y/N crossed their arms.

“Fine, fine. Look, I’m sorry” he ran his hand over his face trying to find the courage. “I… what happened 15 years ago wasn’t my fault, you were by my side even if I never liked it. I was young and stupid to push you like that. I’m sorry” he ended and looked at the (your eye color). "I also took you for granted as a driver, hell you drive better than most of those assholes out there"

They cast their face down for a moment and then up to his eyes. “It’s fine, I appreciate your apology. Everything is in the past now” Y/N offered a small smile to him. He nodded his head. "And thanks for the compliment, it means a lot coming from you."

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After that they manage to find a better rhythm of teaching the competitors. A couple of weeks have passed, Y/N and Jack became friends (the first time they met doesn’t count to Y/N since it was one-sided). Sharing meals together without Danny.

Danny Moore got an eye for perfect opportunities, and again he found one. He noticed the long glances Jack gave to Y/N, and how he worries when Y/N got in a car to give the gamers extra lessons.

“Jack, my brother” He said to Jack once they were in the press room alone.

“Jesus Christ, now what?”

[soviet-supersoldier]

Character Examination: Omega Red

Part 5.5: Team X/Team 7

So, for anyone who is looking at this title and going, "Huh? What is this? I've never heard of this comic." Trust me, you are not alone. I only recently stumbled on the existence of this comic, and given we have just concluded going through Omega Red’s introductory comic arc, I thought it would be appropriate to do a spotlight on this book -- even though it is not canon -- before I move on to Arkady’s next official appearance in Marvel Comics; just to give some thoughts on what could have been for Arkady and how some of the things depicted in this comic make some words/actions in Omega Red’s introduction make sense in light of what was intended for him and his past experiences with Team X.

Before we begin, some background on this comic and why it's not canon to 616. So, this comic was published in partnership with Wildstorm Productions (a subset of Image Comics), which is now under the DC Comics umbrella. It features a group called Team 7, which was created for the Wildstorm comics universe, and have since become a part of DC. The company was founded by Jim Lee, and that name should sound familiar as he was the one who originally designed Omega Red for Marvel. So in a way, this comic gives some insight as to what his intentions may have been with Arkady in relation to his past, experimentation, and how it all relates back to Logan; although the comic itself was writtien by Larry Hama, the man who would go on to write "Maverick: In the Shadow of Death," and you can definitely tell where his influence is present in the writing. So, for this reason, I'm looking at this comic. And for anyone who reads my blog, if you're a Sabretooth fan or a fan of the Victor/Logan ship or their overall comic dynamic, especially with regards to their Team X days, you'll probably get a real kick out of this book, even though it really gives off Saturday Morning Cartoon and 80s action movie vibes as to the overall plot.

So to start off, the scene is set in what is called "the Sultanate of Numidia," which is a made-up place specifically created for this comic. There, they are working to create their own supersoldier project in connection to Russia. A time period for this is not specified beyond taking place after Arkady’s encounter with Team X in Berlin. Leni Zauber, AKA, Mystique, is going in undercover on behalf of Team X to this location under the guise of a consultant to oversee the weapons project. While she is doing so, Team 7 (who are a bunch of generic, 80s GI Joe nobodies) arrives via helicopter to try to take down the site and their entry is rocky.

At the same time, Team X is doing a covert infiltration which has some Logan/Victor banter and eventually leads to Sabretooth stripping naked (no joke, Victor is naked for about 2/3 of this comic) and covering himself in fire extinguisher foam to get past the infrared sensors at the entrance to the base. So, while Victor is getting naked, we finally get to see what Omega Red is doing and why he's even here in the middle of the desert:

Nice underpants, Arkady. It seems like his design here really embraces the "Red" part of his name, the grey/black trunks serving to break up the color scheme of his uniform here, but it's definitely not his best look.

So, Russia is here for oil and for working out some kinks in a branch of their supersoldier program that they're running in this country because... reasons. We have to have a plot, so barebones generic 80s action plot it is! Omega Red seems to be a consultant here as well, as he's looking at the place from a military standpoint and its flaws. He's also spewing the typical patriotic propaganda that one would expect of the stereotypical Russian villain of the time period (this came out in 1996). You will notice that the lady here (I am not even going to try repeating what Arkady said her name was. It's a mouthful), mentions reading a dossier on him, and I would assume it would be the same one Larry Hama has John Wraith reveal in "Maverick: In the Shadow of Death," which is something I intend to fully dive into once we reach that book. But for now, it's teased Arkady has a unsavory background that played a role in how he ended up where he is. We'll get into that when we get back to actually talking canon.

So, the scene cuts back to naked Victor in firefighter foam killing guards and lowering the defenses for Logan and Maverick to enter (fully clothed) after him. Up to this point, Victor's been making a few jokes about ear collecting from the people he kills, and just when he's going to add a few more here to his horde, Omega Red shows up to wreck his fun:

So, Arkady’s dialogue is very generic. Definitely feels like the kind of stuff the stereotypical supervillain says in their cartoon appearances. He's fitting the evil Russian stereotype here by commenting on politics (East/West, Communism/Capitalism arguments) and generic villain stereotypes by shouting about his death powers and how lethal they are. Just like in the regular Marvel Comics though, you'll see that they're not as lethal as he claims as Arkady continues his "not actually killing anyone" streak here even in this non-canon book.

So, Logan and Maverick show up just in time to save Victor, and Arkady retreats with the French (?) Lady, Spider-man style. Maverick considers ditching Victor, as apparently Arkady broke some bones as he was squeezing the life out of Victor (not that you can tell), but Logan decides to carry naked Sabes to safety instead. The scene cuts to showing what Team 7 is up to, but since we don't actually care about anything those guys are doing, I'll just skip ahead on the summary to get back to Logan dragging Victor around to safety (It’s a rather hilarious bit, and Victor gives off strong wounded cat vibes). The Spetznaz are after Team X and trying to radio Omega Red to their location to follow the group, but are killed by Maverick, who spouts off the usual cheery generic 80s action hero lines as he gleefully kills them. As I said, this comic is chock full of 80s action tropes. Then he tells Logan to shut Victor up, but Logan complains how all his attempts to knock Victor out just make him scream louder. Overall, it's a funny bit. I got a chuckle.

Team X escapes the pursing Spetznaz and Victor magically finds an extra pair of pants from... somewhere. Perhaps Logan was carrying his gear? Not sure, but that's the end of naked Victor. Omega Red, meanwhile, finds himself caught in a catfight between Leni Zauber and the French Lady who have just bumped into each other on page:

I do appreciate that Arkady gets to show some military intelligence here, and it does seem like everyone is deferring to him here, as if he's actually in charge at this base. Very different than how Arkady is shown in the pages of Marvel, not having as much autonomy in his actions and always answering to someone else, needing his cure for his Carbonadium poisoning. The ladies continue to argue, even as Omega Red realizes that both Team X and Team 7 have converged on their location. Omega Red goes to fight both teams by himself while in the background, we have Leni and French Lady continuing their arguments and accusing the other of treachery. They're probably both trying to sway Arkady to take their side in their argument, but he quite honestly isn't shown to care about their spat at all (smart man), instead being rather annoyed with the women when they decide to take their disagreement to new heights and leave him entirely alone to deal with both intruding teams.

Omega Red gets separated from his foes and like the 80s action movies, we get a scene where Team X and Team 7 give out brief introductions and agree to team up, macho handshakes and all. They find their way down to the supersoldier lab where they see a bunch of cyborgs in test tubes, remarking that they don't look "anywhere near as formidable as Omega Red." They do talk about how this project looks to be a knock-off/run-down version of what the Soviets have with regards to Arkady, so we can kinda see what the original process Jim Lee probably had intended for Arkady here with regards to his creation:

Arkady sics these half-completed creations on the two teams instead of fighting himself, as he's apparently quite sick of doing all the work alone. He is carrying this entire plot on his shoulders right now and it shows. Here, he is being portrayed as the top villain, as if he's the main bad guy of the week the heroes need to defeat in a 30-minute episode. The biggest indicator of this actually shows in Omega Red’s next action as he apparently just decides to stand there as a cartoon villain watching the two teams work together to destroy the supersoldiers instead of actually doing anything to stop them. The cyborg soldiers all die, and Team X/Team 7 make their escape, sealing a giant blast door behind them to prevent Omega Red from following (not that his actions showed he was in a hurry to, just standing around watching like he was). The ladies continue their fight and accuse each other of being frauds while Omega Red calls in a team to cut through the blast door. Again, he doesn't seem to be in any particular hurry, at least at the moment.

Now, that first part of Arkady’s dialogue really feels out of character for me. The intonation just feels off, like something he wouldn't say. "Some payload, huh?" he says. "They got these bad boys packed in like sardines. Talk about a no frills flight!" It just doesn't sound like something that would come out of his mouth. It sounds... too American. There's turns of phrase and slang used that doesn't fit his overall speech pattern. It's weird, and I don't really like it. Moving on from the weird dialogue, Arkady gets informed on what the two teams are doing and quickly grows impatient, slicing through the doors himself and forces his way through to go after the teams. They try to escape Omega Red via helicopter, but that doesn't go so well:

So Arkady tells them to launch the missile, Team 7 uses psychic power (don't worry, it comes as far out of left field as you'd expect. I know nothing about these generic GI Joes) to blow up the missile before in launches, and the whole base blows up with Omega Red inside. Leni Zauber shows up at the end and reveals she killed the French Lady, who was working with Team 7 (making both women frauds) and they all fly off into the sunset together as Omega Red crawls out of the rubble.

And that's the end of the episode -- er, comic. So, what was the point? What did we learn? Well, for starters we learned what Jim Lee had probably intended for a more complicated past between Omega Red and Team X. In his introductory arc, we were given hints as to more of a past between him and Logan, which would make sense if Team X had been deployed on missions like these where they could have encountered Arkady multiple times. But that never came to be in the pages of Marvel Comics. We also got to see the generic cyborg supersoldiers who all not only bear cybernetics somewhat reminiscent of Arkady’s implants, but also the same chalk-white skin, which lends to the idea that he was originally going to be altered into being chalk-white rather than being born that way as the Infinity comics reveal. We also saw Larry Hama's thumb on the scale with the attempted introduction of a criminal background for Arkady. We will get to that in later reviews of these appearances.

After this, we're going back to actual canon material, but for what this was, it was fun. A cartoony 80s action movie turned comic. We'll get to the real heavy-hitting and tragic story about Arkady’s experiences in the next one.

[wishbonegame]

Apparently with all the chaos going on this year I forgot to post an update for March! Well, here's April's update instead.

Current Summer Y1 event progress: 5.5/8 fully implemented 6.5/8 scripted (roughly)

Current Summer Y1 quest* progress: 12.5/15 implemented 12.75/15 scripted

(*Note that this isn’t the count of unique quests but rather time-gated triggers to release new quest steps–some quests are counted several times if they are given in small chunks rather than all at once.)

The vast majority of Summer's quests are done. This includes the biggest multi-stage quest, which... actually mostly takes place in Fall, so unfortunately it won't be possible to complete in the upcoming Summer public beta. Which is a shame because it's got some really funny scenes and writing. Here's a tiny clip from one of them.

The remaining events are pretty big, but the script for the biggest one was just finished last weekend and I am currently working on implementing it. (It's pretty branchy, and is one of those things that's a lot faster to implement than to write)

I've done some minor cleanup/debugging as well, as usual. Fixing up little things... much like it looks like these characters are going to fix up this injured horse. Wonder what happened there...?

Another thing I'd like to add to the Summer Y1 public beta is the ability to preserve your save files. Any save files from the Spring Y1 beta we released earlier won't be compatible with releases going forward. The game initializer code has changed too much since then and trying to load a save would... not go well. But the game initializer code isn't changing much these days, so going forward, I'd like to build a framework for "patching" old save files. That way if you play the upcoming beta and then play another future beta later (or, eventually, the full game!) you don't have to lose your progress. So... gonna try to build that. No guarantee it'll work perfectly all the way through the final full game release, but it's worth a try!

The other major thing on my to-do list before the Summer public beta release is that I'd like to adjust the menu/text box contrast (a commonly requested tweak). Implementing more Ask About dialog (it's been written, but not implemented in game yet) is also part of the plan.

As always, thanks for following our cowboy madness project as it slowly moves closer to completion with each passing week. See you next month!

[sjsmith56]

To Reach For You - A Private Man, Chapter 5

Summary: With Tracey’s return, Bucky amuses his sister with all of his efforts to make the house ready for her. The couple find the spark between them is burning even brighter.

Length: 5.5 K

Characters: Bucky, Rebecca, Tracey

Warnings: Minors DNI- contains sexual content, including oral (f/receiving, p in v) which may be unsuitable for readers under the age of 18. I don’t write much smut.

Author notes: In this story Bucky is a romantic man at heart. Tracey’s calm energy makes him feel safe. He trusts her completely.

<<Chapter 4

🎶 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

5 weeks later

The physiotherapist watched as Rebecca lifted one leg then the other while she sat in the armchair. Then she placed her hands in Rebecca's and looked right at her.

"Okay, you're all warmed up," said Melinda. "I'll hold your hands and I want you to try to raise yourself off of the chair. It doesn't matter if you make it all the way or if you hold it for any length of time. This is just to gauge whether we've restored enough muscle in your core, backside and legs for you to raise yourself. It's all good."

Bucky watched anxiously as Rebecca gritted her teeth and pulled on the woman's hands then began to stand up. She made it about half way then began to wobble a little and sat back down with a look of disappointment on her face.

"I don't think I can do it," she said.

"You did just fine, Mrs. Proctor," smiled Melinda. "When we started a month ago you couldn't even move your legs and now you're lifting them from a seated position. You got up half way and that's more than good enough. You should be proud of what you've accomplished, shouldn't she, Mr. Barnes?"

"I think so," he said encouragingly. "I'm just sorry we didn't start this sooner. If we had she might have been walking by now."

"Well, thanks to Miss Harris you were alerted to the funding that paid for this and the aides," she replied. "Is it true several of your volunteers were able to get the aide positions?"

Rebecca nodded. "They were so good and did their own research on being a personal aide. All of them got their green cards to work legally and I'm so glad they were able to stay with me. Once Bucky starts on day shift they'll switch to day time as well."

"When does that happen?" she asked, glancing up at Bucky.

"Next week," he replied. "I got a promotion to supervisor and a pay raise. It will be nice to get a full night's sleep, except for when Rebecca needs me."

"Well, you've done an amazing job taking care of your sister," she said. "Not many men would give up what you have to do it. Were all 1940s men like you?"

"No," Bucky smiled. "They were pretty traditional. I am in some areas but I missed out on so much with Rebecca that the least I could do was be here for her."

Rebecca put her hand out to her brother and squeezed it, getting a smile from the physiotherapist. "Tracey gets back late Friday," she said, leaning towards Melinda. "It's been two months since she went to Belize. A mutual friend already emailed her to say she's expected for dinner on Saturday night."

"She's a lucky woman," said Melinda, then looked at the clock. "Well, we're just about done here. Have the aides continue with the exercises to build up your core muscles. I'll be back next Thursday and we'll see if you can stand a little higher. As always, it's been a pleasure working with you, Mrs. Proctor."

"Oh, please, you really can call me Rebecca," said the older woman.

"That's not how I was raised," explained Melinda, "but I appreciate the sentiment."

The younger woman entered the results of Rebecca's latest try at standing in her notes then packed up her equipment. Bucky opened the door and walked her out to the car, waiting while she put everything in the trunk.

"Thank you. It's good to see Rebecca looking stronger," he said. "Her appetite has improved as well and she's sleeping better."

"I'm glad to hear it," said Melinda. "You do take very good care of her. Good luck with Miss Harris."

He blushed and nodded. As she drove away he returned to the house. Rebecca turned the TV on to watch Price Is Right, while Bucky went to take some bedding out of the dryer to remake his bed. Even though he wasn't counting on anything to happen between him and Tracey he thought it prudent to clean his room and wash all the bedding. When he came out of the laundry room Rebecca smiled.

"I could always go sleep over at a friend's house on Saturday night," she teased. "You know, if you want privacy."

"Don't you start," he replied. "I get enough grief from Sam with all of his texting. I can give you ear plugs so you don't hear a thing. Besides you're included for dinner."

Kalyna came over just before 9:30 to take her turn, her last shift before the following week when she would do two day shifts. She was sharing the care of Rebecca and another elderly client with Samira and Amina. All three women were thrilled at the opportunity to be paid for something they had previously done as volunteers. Rebecca's nurse, Marie, had also looked into getting a ramp funded so the aides could take Rebecca out for excursions in her wheelchair. They were still waiting for approval on that. As soon as Kalyna arrived Bucky kissed Rebecca goodnight and headed for the docks.

On Friday, Marie came for her usual assessment of Rebecca, running through her blood pressure, lungs and heart check, and questions about her mental health. She gave Bucky a message from Tracey that she would be at the house by 7 pm Saturday. When Bucky walked her out to her car she put her medical case in the back seat then faced him.

"We're all fond of Tracey," she said looking sternly up at him. "Her divorce hurt her deeply and she hasn't had much luck in the boyfriend department. You be nice to her or you'll have an office full of nurses to deal with and we know a lot of people."

"Marie, I won't do anything that makes her uncomfortable," he said seriously. "I want a relationship, a real one. I'll be a gentleman."

That seemed to satisfy the older nurse and she took her leave. After she left, Bucky bustled about the house, vacuuming, dusting, straightening things up; all while Rebecca watched him with a small smile on her face. When Bucky was young she never saw him this excited over a woman. He did spend time getting himself ready for his dates, shaving, applying just the right amount of hair cream to style his thick dark hair without making it look greasy. His suit was always clean, with the pants and shirts pressed. He even did that part himself which amused their parents. Rebecca could always count on making some pocket money by offering to polish his shoes, knowing that he liked them shiny. At one point he noticed his sister watching him and he sat near her on the couch.

"I'm doing too much, aren't I?" he asked. "I've never felt this much anxiety over a woman. What if she met someone in Belize? What if she changed her mind?"

He opened his mouth to say something else and Rebecca intervened. "Bucky, I have it on good authority that Tracey has been just as anxious as you are. She likes you, a lot. You two are much the same. Both of you went through bad times and now you're ready for something good. Just be the gentleman you are and everything will fit into place."

For a moment he said nothing then he went to the bookcase and brought a picture over of Rebecca on her wedding day, looking at it intently.

"I forgot to wish you a happy anniversary," he said. "I remembered earlier in the week then all the preparations for Tracey just drove it out of my mind."

"Thank you," she replied, putting her hand out for the picture of her and her husband Harvey. "He wasn't flashy but he was devoted. Even when we found out we couldn't have children he never held that against me. We had 49 years together, good years. I hope you get some good years with Tracey. I'm sorry but I'm going to cry."

She began to cry and Bucky kneeled in front of her pulling her onto his shoulder. He hadn't meant to bring her to tears. Once again he thought of the things out of his control that kept him away from his family, wishing he could have been there for his sister sooner. Pulling his handkerchief out of his jeans he dabbed at Rebecca's eyes and cheeks, then kissed her on her forehead.

"It's okay sweetheart," he said softly. "I feel like crying, too, sometimes. I'm glad you had a good marriage. Something for me to aspire to. Tell me how did you and Harvey do it?"

Smiling sadly Rebecca sat back while Bucky stayed where he was, holding her hands. "We were always truthful, without being hurtful. We told each other "I love you" every day, many times. We had sex as often as we could. That's how we did it."

Bucky kissed her hands and smiled thankfully at his sister, his eyes glistening. "I'll remember that," he said. "That's a good recipe for a successful marriage. Why don't we go outside and enjoy that pergola?"

She nodded and he picked her up easily in his arms, carrying her to the back door and out into the yard. They sat in the shade of the pergola with some soft 1940s music playing on the patio speaker. Bucky made sandwiches for lunch and they ate outside, talking about their childhood, Steve Rogers as a boy, and their parents.

Saturday evening

Everything was ready. The stuffed chicken breasts were keeping warm in the oven, while the risotto was still several minutes away from being finished. Asparagus was ready to be cooked for just a few minutes so they were tender but still crisp, while the Caesar salad just needed to be tossed with the dressing that Bucky made from scratch. The plate of Afghan sweets that Samira brought that afternoon, including baklava, cream rolls, coconut burfi, and cardamom cookies had been hard for Bucky to resist nibbling on but he had stayed his cravings for the sweet morsels.

He wore dark grey dress pants, an open necked white dress shirt and a full apron over both to protect his clothes from the final meal preparations. He shaved as well, hoping the smooth face would last more than a couple of hours. Rebecca was in a dress, a blue one that matched her eyes. She even put lipstick on, with Bucky holding a small mirror up in front of her face so she could see her lips. At 6:50 the doorbell rang and Bucky went to the door, feeling his heart pound, taking a few deep breaths to settle himself. Through the small cutout window he could see Tracey and he opened the door. Right away her eyes lit up and he knew by the way she looked at him that everything would be okay.

"Hi," he said softly, backing up to let her in. "You look great."

She did look great, wearing a green dress with lace at the shoulders. Her hair was shiny, her eyes bright, and her smile filled him with that warmth that he felt on the day she told him she liked him.

"Thanks, you look good as well," she replied, stepping inside. She kissed him on the cheek then went past him to the living room, going straight to Rebecca and hugging her. "Hello, Rebecca. You look very nice tonight."

"So do you, dear," replied his sister. "That's such a pretty dress. It's good to see you back here, safe and sound."

Bucky offered her a glass of white wine and brought one out for Rebecca as well. Then he went back to the kitchen to pour himself one, returning to sit next to Tracey on the couch. For a moment no one said anything then they all spoke at the same time. With a gesture Bucky indicated that Tracey could speak first.

"I missed you both so much," she said in a rush. "I don't really know when it happened but you both became like family for me. I'm glad I'm back with people who care about me."

Rebecca offered her a hand while Bucky sat silently sipping his wine. When Tracey turned to him he gazed at her then leaned forward and kissed her gently on the cheek, a gesture that she leaned into.

"I better finish getting dinner ready," he said, blushing after the kiss.

"Can I help?" asked Tracey.

He nodded and they went to the kitchen, watched by a smiling Rebecca. Handing Tracey another apron to protect her dress he brought the Caesar salad and dressing out for her to combine. The asparagus was dropped into boiling water to cook while Bucky checked the risotto, satisfied with it. He took the asparagus out, dressing it in a mixture of olive oil, Parmesan cheese and lemon zest. Pulling the chicken out of the oven he plated their meals then carried Rebecca outside as Tracey followed him with two plates. Her eyes lit up at the backyard transformation.

"It's beautiful back here! You did this while I was gone?"

"Bucky and his friend Sam started it, with help from Amina's kids," said Rebecca proudly. "Then the pergola was put up with help from a fellow at the garden store. He and Bucky have become friendly. They've even gone to a ball game together. The announcer introduced Bucky to the crowd and they showed it on the TV."

"You made a friend," said Tracey, beaming.

"Jack's a good guy," replied Bucky, blushing. "We had the volunteers over as well for a pot luck gathering. Let's get the rest of the food and the wine."

They went back to the kitchen while Rebecca sat alone outside. As soon as they were in the door Bucky turned around, grasping Tracey's hands.

"Are we still emotionally involved?" He paused, unable to say anything more.

Tracey smiled and nodded, gazing at his lips. "Most definitely."

Their lips crashed together in an ardent kiss and they held each other closely, one of his hands in the small of her back while the other was wrapped in the softness of her hair. She ran her hands over his muscled back, then brought them to his chest, feeling the warmth of his body before she stepped back.

"You're hot," she said then checked herself. "I mean, your body gives off heat."

"High metabolism," he explained. "It's a side effect of the super soldier process. That's why I can eat so much."

A call from Rebecca interrupted them and they both took their aprons off. Bucky had a dress jacket draped over a chair and he put it on, drawing an approving nod from Tracey. Then he took the final plate and his wine, while Tracey took her wine and Rebecca's. As Bucky sat he reached into his jacket pocket, took out his cell phone, brought up a playlist, and began playing soft jazz on the patio speaker.

"This is better than any over priced restaurant," said Tracey, smiling pleasantly. "Thank you for this wonderful welcome home."

Rebecca lifted up her glass and looked at the other two. "Here's to a beautiful relationship," she said. "My brother, my friend, and me, hoping for the best."

For the next couple of hours they ate, drank wine, listened to Tracey tell them about her experiences in Belize, and generally enjoyed each other's company. As it got closer to Rebecca's bed time she began to yawn and finally told the couple she was ready for bed. Bucky picked her up while Tracey followed with some of the dishes.

"Why don't you let me take care of her while you put everything away?" she suggested to Bucky.

Twenty minutes later he returned to the bedroom to hear Tracey reading to Rebecca from a paperback. She read the first chapter then showed Bucky the book, Bedtime Stories For Adults by Peggy Hill.

"My first week in Belize I found it difficult to get to sleep and one of the other staff lent her copy to me," she said. "I enjoyed it and it helped settle my mind enough to relax and sleep. I bought this copy for you and Rebecca to read as I thought you would like it."

She placed the book on the night stand then hugged Rebecca good night. Bucky suggested Tracey wait in the back yard for him so she left and he sat on the edge of the bed. Taking Rebecca's hands in his he gently stroked the wrinkled skin.

"It'll be alright," said Rebecca, reading accurately that he was nervous. "She really is a lovely woman and she feels good about beginning a relationship with you. Even her ex-husband never made her feel like you do. Share your joys and your fears, support each other. You can do this."

"I love you, Rebecca," he said then he kissed her forehead.

"I love you, too, Bucky," she replied, squeezing his hand with hers. "Have a wonderful evening and I'll see you both at breakfast."

With an audible breath Bucky tucked her in, went to the door, and turned off the light, leaving his sister to fall asleep. He stepped out into the back yard and saw Tracey standing under the big tree, the soft glow of the white fairy lights making the scene feel romantic. Taking his phone out he changed the playlist to the one Sam helped him compile. It was only six songs, less than an half hour total of dancing. As the first song came up Tracey smiled when he approached her.

"I've always liked this song," she said, her eyes seeming to reflect the lights above. "Are we dancing?"

Bucky nodded and took her in his arms. Neither said anything when the song played; they just moved to the music, her with her head against his chest and him with his head lowered close to hers. Then a verse came on and Tracey sang softly along with it.

Will you stay with me?

Will you be my love?

Upon the fields of barley

We'll forget the sun in his jealous sky

As we lie in fields of gold.

"My answer is yes," she whispered and Bucky kissed the side of her head.

"So is mine," he whispered back.

As the playlist went through Harbor Lights, I Only Have Eyes For You, The Man I Love, and The Nearness of You they danced slowly to all of them. With each one she realized that Bucky truly had a romantic soul. It almost made her cry that these old songs revealed how sensitive he truly was. When the final song, Right Before Your Eyes began playing she looked up at Bucky, slightly puzzled as it was quite different in tone, although still a love song.

"That afternoon, while I had my nap, after you told me you were emotionally involved I dreamed this," said Bucky, gazing at her. "This very scenario, with this song playing, us dancing, the lights in the trees and the yard. I never felt like this before, not even before the war. I want you, Tracey." He looked away for a moment then back at her, his eyes bright. "I think I'm in love with you and I want to spend the next 50 years getting to know everything about you. Please tell me you feel the same."

Tracey smiled and chuckled lightly. "I have my own playlist to share. After you kissed me goodbye and I drove away, I noticed that you watched me until I was out of sight. I pulled over and realized that I couldn't be Rebecca's nurse anymore because I was falling for you. At that moment a song called Hungry Eyes came on the radio and I knew that I had to tell my supervisor. I am in love with you, Bucky. It was unexpected, and I'm scared that I'm going to mess it up but I want the same life that you do."

At that moment the timer on the power source ended and the back yard was plunged into darkness, lit only by the light coming from the kitchen window. Bucky placed both hands on Tracey's face then kissed her softly and languidly, wanting it to last forever. His forehead touched hers.

"Stay with me tonight," he whispered. "Don't go home."

"Alright," she replied immediately. "I brought a change of clothes, hoping you would ask."

Bucky smiled, a full and glad smile that made Tracey's stomach full of butterflies at the prospect of being with him. He embraced her again and the heat from his body felt like putting a heated blanket around her. While Bucky turned on the light in his room she went out to her car and got her bag. He was waiting at the door when she came up the steps, then locked up behind her. Silently he led her to his room and closed the door, standing in front of it. Lowering his eyes to his hands Bucky spoke softly.

"Before we do anything I have to tell you something. When HYDRA put me through the super soldier process it changed me, physically. My muscles became bigger, my endurance greater, hearing and vision improved. Without trying to be crude it changed me in one other place, down there."

Tracey came over to him and placed her hands on his. "Whatever they did that changed it we'll figure it out."

Bucky's face coloured. "It's more than changed. It's enhanced, they made it bigger, thicker, and with quick restorative ability and endurance. I can literally go all night. I didn't want to spring it on you ...."

He groaned at his wording. Tracey smiled softly then touched his face. "It will be alright. Is the process also what makes your beard grow in so fast?"

He nodded, still embarrassed at what he just told her. She pulled his face down to kiss him then went to her purse and picked out her phone.

"Here's my playlist of songs that reminded me of you," she said, setting it to play. "I'm into older and classic rock and pop so this might be new stuff for you but it's mostly old stuff for me."

Hungry Eyes began playing and Tracey pulled her shoes off. Bucky slipped his off as well, then took his jacket off. She unbuttoned his shirt then watched him as he took it off. Gently she ran her hands over his chest while looking up at him gathering his dog tags in her hand for a moment, then turned her back to him so he could unzip her dress. Pulling her long hair to the side Bucky unzipped it, kissing her neck and shoulders as she lowered her dress over her shoulders onto the floor. Enclosing her in his arms from behind Bucky pressed his hips into her backside, while caressing her breasts and abdomen.

Her breath caught, making Bucky hard. Pulling herself away Tracey climbed on top of his bed, her eyes dark. She leaned back against the headboard, with her legs curled under her, watching Bucky, waiting for him to remove his pants. Undoing the top button he lowered the zipper and pulled them off, letting them fall onto the floor as he removed his socks. For a moment he hesitated then he pulled his boxer briefs off and Tracey gave an audible breath at the sight of Bucky, nude.

"You weren't kidding," she said softly, then she swallowed and removed her bra and panties, tossing them aside.

He climbed onto the bed and reached for her ankle, pulling her gently towards him so she was flat on her back. His weight and bulk captured her as he laid on top of her. The power of his physique was evident but instead of being frightened Tracey found herself aroused, her senses heightened as she became aware of his cologne that smelled like a fine brandy with leather and woody accents. His pupils were dark pools of desire, and she found herself mesmerized by his lips, especially when his tongue darted out nervously to lick them.

"So here we are," said Bucky, his face directly above hers, his voice at least an octave lower. "I haven't been with a woman since before the Snap so I'm a little out of practice. If it gets too much I'll stop if you tell me to stop. If you want to pause to get used to me just say wait."

"I trust you," she said firmly, trying to sound more confident than she felt at the moment, despite her anticipation.

"Are you on birth control? I ask because I did get condoms."

"I have an IUD," she told him. "Got it before I went to Belize, not because I was expecting to sleep with anyone there but I knew I wouldn't have time when I got back. I knew then I wanted to be with you."

His lips met hers with a burning intensity that made her whimper in her throat. Spreading her hands across his back she could feel the immense power of his muscles as they rippled under her finger tips. At the same time Bucky ground his hips into Tracey, almost bruising her with his thick hard cock that had visibly grown when she removed her underwear. His hands and mouth sought out her breasts while she breathed deeply trying to deal with everything she was feeling. Slowly his mouth moved down her abdomen until he was just above her pubic mound. Gently he pressed his open mouth into her and she whimpered, feeling a heat form deep inside her.

"Touch yourself while I'm down here," he murmured. "I like it."

She was vaguely aware that the next song Fire by The Pointer Sisters was just starting and she mouthed the words as she caressed herself. Bucky was gently mouthing her thighs then his mouth found her clitoris just as the word "Fire" came on. A moan escaped her throat and she writhed. Bucky looked up and smiled at her then returned to the business at hand and gently inserted a finger into Tracey, curling it against her g-spot.

"Wait," she gasped. "It's been so long. I have to get used to the intensity."

Bucky withdrew and laid beside her, caressing her body. "We only just got started," he whispered, "but I'll wait for you to be ready. You're so beautiful and you taste amazing."

"You have a silver tongue," she murmured. "Is that your old Bucky coming out?"

"Maybe, but I mean it," he said, shifting so he was looking in her eyes. "I thought you were beautiful from the moment I saw you the first time through the window in the door. Now, you're lying naked in my arms and you're even more beautiful." The next song started and Bucky smiled as he listened to it for a few seconds.

"I like this song," he said. "Who sings it?"

"Bob Dylan, it's called Lay Lady Lay," replied Tracey. "It's one of my favourites."

"Mine too, now, because I'll always see you lying on my bed just like this whenever I hear it."

He kissed her passionately, which she returned then she told him to finish what he started. When he brought her to climax she cried out loudly, then breathed emotionally as Bucky massaged her pubic mound to intensify the ripples of pleasure from her orgasm. Holding her close, he caressed and kissed her while she dealt with what she was feeling.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "My ex-husband wasn't much of a giver in bed. He said I was frigid and that's why he found someone else. I was just ... inexperienced, I guess. He was the only man I was ever with that I remember."

"Don't be sorry," said Bucky. "This first time together, we're just beginning to know each other. Are you ready to go on?"

She nodded and Bucky kissed her again.   We've Got Tonight was playing. When it got to the line of "both of us lonely" Bucky kissed her tenderly and whispered they would never be lonely again. They both touched and tasted each other's skin, learning where the other was most sensitive. Soon Tracey was ready for Bucky to take the next step. She did take a deep breath then smiled at him when he took some lube out of his drawer and smoothed it on. Slowly he entered her and pressed himself deeper, stopping when she whispered for him to wait. When Bucky was fully in he kissed her gently.

"You're doing so good," he whispered. "I'm in completely and you feel incredible. You okay?"

She nodded. "I think so. It just takes some getting used to." He moved out slightly and thrust in again causing her to take a quick breath. "Still getting used to it."

Taking his time he set up a rhythm that soon had her making soft breathy noises that aroused him even more. When Tracey began raising her hips into him he knew she would be okay and he allowed himself to go in harder and slightly faster. The pressure was building inside of him with each thrust bringing him closer and closer to his release. It had been some time since he last came, other than in the shower which was never completely satisfying but this, being inside Tracey, was nirvana as he felt every one of her responses to his efforts. By the sounds coming from this beautiful woman in his arms she was getting closer and he pressed himself into her clitoris with each thrust, trusting that after all this time he was doing it right. The next song, Weight of Love, was harsher in tone to his ear, but Bucky found it seemed to help Tracey let any remaining inhibitions go as she returned his thrusts wrapping herself around him while they fiercely kissed. He was ready to come and whispered in Tracey's ear, hoping to spur her to bliss, wanting that for her.

"You feel so good to me. I can't believe I'm making love to a beautiful sexy woman like you. Let yourself go, Tracey. Let me take care of you."

He buried his face in her neck, mouthing all the soft parts of it then placing his lips on her ears so his warm moist breath filled her senses. With a cry, her back arched, and her whole body went rigid as the orgasm flowed through it. Bucky followed immediately with his own, emptying himself into her several times then laying on top of Tracey, kissing her gently, taking in her scent and the softness of her skin. When he softened he pulled out and shifted to lie beside her, sliding his metal arm under her so she could curl into him. The final song on her playlist, Wicked Game, was playing and although the lyrics were not quite about falling in love Bucky could see why she chose it as it was haunting music, seductively sexy, leading to more meaningful touches between them.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice soft. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No, but I'll probably be sore in the morning," she replied. "Thank you. I've never come like that."

"Get used to it," he said. "I'll take care of you, always."

They shifted so they could get under the covers and Bucky turned off the bedside light. He could have gone all night but he was respectful of Tracey getting used to him and his body, trusting him to treat her right. As her breathing sounds changed into something deeper and more regular he looked up at the ceiling, breathing deeply as he felt so many emotions running through him. When Tracey shifted to her other side Bucky put his arm around her waist, spooned behind her and breathed in her scent, committing it to memory. Before he fell asleep a thought occurred to him. This is what love feels like.

****************

Bucky's playlist for dancing in the backyard: Fields of Gold by Sting, Harbor Lights by The Platters, I Only Have Eyes for You by The Flamingos, The Man I Love by Ella Fitzgerald, The Nearness of You by Ella Fitzgerald, Right Before Your Eyes by America.

Tracey's playlist for the bedroom (she loves classic rock): Hungry Eyes by Eric Carmen, Fire by Pointer Sisters, Lay Lady Lay by Bob Dylan, We've Got Tonight by Bob Seeger, Weight of Love by Black Keyes, Wicked Game by Chris Isaak.

Chapter 6>>

Series Masterlist

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