#i can't believe i finished this in less than 2 hours

[wonustars]

In Front of Me (Teaser)

⊹ pairing: jeon wonwoo x f.reader ⊹ genre: bestfriend to lovers, angst, smut (18+ mdni) ⊹ wordcount: TBA (this teaser: 679) ⊹ release date: TBA

⊹ summary: jeon wonwoo has spent most of his adolesence and early adult hood unable to understand why he can't seem to stay in a relationship for more than a few months. as his best friend, you allowed him to vent about his worries without judgment. so what if you're in love with him? your friendship with wonwoo meant more to you than having your feelings reciprocated. that is until you hit your breaking point, while wonwoo finally realizes what has been in front of him this whole time. ⊹ tags: non-idol!au, uni!au, bestfriends to lovers (?), unrequted love, emotionaly stunted charcters, wonwoo has a bit of an ego, toxic!wonwoo&reader. (more tags and smut tag added to full fic when posted.) ⊹ note: im really excited to share this with you all. its not by any means done but heres a teaser for now since ive been away for so long ♡ also the teaser is not edited so pls just ignore if theres typos hehe. lov u all pls come into my ask box cuz i refuse to shut up abt this story :p.

⊹ masterlist, taglist, fic playlist.

Rejection is foreign to Wonwoo.

Most times, it’s him that’s doing the rejecting. He was the one to always initiate the break up, to lose feelings first, every decision was made by him. He has no control over whether you’re going to text him back or not, and to put it simply, he can’t stand that feeling. 

Wonwoo hates not being in control. Whether that be his future, his relationships, and especially his feelings. At least that’s what he forces himself to believe. That it’s not fair of you to ignore him when he’s worried about you, because he’s your best friend. You should answer him when he texts you. When he calls you, and especially when he shows up to your door, seeking your comfort. In his mind, that is what he believes the foundation of your friendship is. To comfort each other, just like it always has been. 

Sure, maybe Wonwoo is entitled, perhaps he’s conceited and selfish, but he doesn’t care. Because in his mind, you’re his bestfriend. There was no way in hell that you were ignoring him. His ego doesn’t even consider it a possibility. You were busy, that’s it. That has to be it. 

{໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -。꒱ྀི১  ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋆˙}

Less than fourty-eight hours in, Wonwoo couldn’t stop himself from texting you once more. Nimble fingers practically itching to open your contact to update you about the most mundane things. Maybe if he pretended that this moment of silence is perfectly normal, then maybe, you would eventually end up answering him. 

12:36 p.m [wons <3]: class just finished. lunch at our usual place?

Nothing. Not even a thumb’s up reaction. Wonwoo had become antsy, guilt and slight annoyance gnawing at the pit of his stomach. Where the hell are you? What are you doing that’s so important that you couldn’t even open his message let alone read them? 

1:27 p.m.  [wons <3]: this random girl asked for my number after class lol. weird right? i didn’t give it to her though 😁

Cursing at himself, he regrets pressing the send button on that text. Double texting you is already out of the norm for him, but triple texting? He can’t believe how desperate he looks right now. He wishes he could bring himself to unsend it, but he just hopes it’ll be the text that finally gets you to respond. 

2:10 p.m. [wons <3]: saw a bunny running thru the oval today u should’ve seen it! reminded me of u.  [1 photo attachment] 

Absolute radio silence from your end. Wonwoo is starting to think that you had him blocked, but his messages are still delivering. Unsure of what’s worse, you ignoring him or blocking his number, Wonwoo still tries his best to remain calm.

4:00 p.m. [wons <3]: im about to head home soon. r u riding w me today? 

The sight of you getting into Seokmin’s car made Wonwoo scoff. Since when did you start getting rides home from Seokmin? And why was he the one opening the door for you? Buckling your seatbelt instead of his own? Wonwoo is completely dumbfounded at what he had witnessed. 

4:30 p.m.  [wons <3]: saw u get into seokmin’s car, lmk if u need a ride tmrw. 

Seeing you laugh and smile while walking to the student parking lot with Seokmin of all people solidified the fact that you are actively ignoring his texts. And he just can’t stand the thought of it. How dare he be ignored? Especially by his best friend, the one person who had always responded to him, no matter the time or how busy you were, you always texted him back. 

Wonwoo initially thought that even if the world ended, you would be there within arms reach, enough to hold you close, where he can keep you safe. You were predictable in that sense. But if the world decided to burst into flames, or swallow itself whole tomorrow, he’s unsure if you would be there right next to him by the time he woke up.

⊹ a/n: if u want to be apart of the taglist please fill out the form, comment or send an ask! please note that i'll only add those who have an age indicator somewhere in their blog! thank you ♡

[sunshinereddie]

trick or treat!

a sequel to my neibolt au fic, to build a home! happy halloween!

______________________________________________________________________

“I don’t know about this, Eddie.” 

“Oh come on, Stan, don’t be a party pooper.” 

“I’m on Stan’s side for this one, guys. I don’t think it’s a good idea.” 

“Wh-wha…what are you t-t-talking about? We’ll bluh-bl-blend right in!” 

“That’s easy for you to say, Billy- you’re not the one with real fire on your head! No one will believe that this is just a costume.” 

“Well, maybe you could wear a hat-”

“Fabulous idea, Rich, then my hair and my hat will be on fire-” 

Eddie let out a loud, frustrated breath that quickly silenced the conversation between his friends. “Would you all just stop for a minute?” He whipped around, turning away from the bathroom mirror he had been using to fix his shirt collar. Six ghosts stood behind him, all of them crammed into the small hallway outside the bathroom on the second floor of the abandoned house on Neibolt Street. 

Most boys Eddie’s age spent their free time down at the park playing soccer, or in the arcade trying to get a new high score on Street Fighter, or in the new comic book store in town, reading all the copies of Spiderman and Superman they had. 

Eddie Kaspbrak, on the other hand, spent most of his time in the old abandoned house of 29 Neibolt Street- a place where most boys his age only ever came near if they were dared to. And while Eddie had once been just as terrified of that house, that fear was now just a distant memory. It had been a year since Eddie had discovered the secrets of the house, and what was once dread brewing in his stomach when he would look up at the broken down and rotten exterior of the building when he had first moved to Derry, was now comfort and warm sense of belonging, as he played hide and seek in the maze of rooms and talked to his new friends for hours after school. 

Richie Tozier floated into bathroom, passing straight through the wall and taking a seat on the edge of the bathtub beside Eddie. “Yeah, Eds, tell them they’re being scaredy-cats for nothing!” 

“It’s not nothing, Richie,” Stanley Uris countered. His body stood leaning against the doorway of the bathroom, and in his hands he held his decaptitated head, which was glaring down at Richie with narrowed eyes (Eddie had learned that Stan preferred his head and his body to be separated- he said he liked to give his shoulders a break every once in a while). “I mean, what do we do if someone gets too close? How do we explain ourselves? What happens when Richie throws his bugs at people like he always does? What about if someone knocks into me and my head falls off? Holy shit- what if Beverly sets someone on fire?!” 

“Hey, I’ve learned to control it!” Beverly said, the orange flames on her head shooting up. Mike and Ben, who were standing the closest to her, flinched back. 

“Beverly won’t set anyone on fire, she hasn’t had an accident in almost three months,” Eddie reassured Stanley. “And we’ll be careful, to make sure no one runs into you, Stan. And I already made Richie promise that he won’t throw any of his bugs. Right, Rich?” 

Richie held up a hand over his heart. “Swear on my life.” 

Stanley rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that means a lot coming from a dead guy.” At that, Richie picked a maggot from his cheek and launched it at Stanley. 

Eddie sighed- he hadn’t been expecting the night to be so… challenging. 

It was October 31st, 1990, and Eddie had spent the past week trying to convince his ghostly friends to come trick or treating with him. Richie, Bill, and Ben had been on board right away- even though they knew they wouldn’t be able to eat any of the candy they collected, none of them had been trick or treating since before they died, and they had spent the week buzzing about it. Beverly, Stanley, and Mike, on the other hand, hadn’t been as stoked- and Eddie could understand why. Even though it would be Halloween night and everyone else would also be dressed up as ghosts and zombies and monsters, some of the ghosts of Neibolt House worried that their “costumes” would stick out too much. 

Eddie pulled off the plastic vampire fangs he was wearing to speak more clearly (the fangs were an amazing addition to his costume, but they did make it awfully difficult for Eddie to speak properly). “Look, guys, I get that it’s scary going out,” he said, in a gentle voice that very much contradicted the scary-vampire costume he was wearing. “But I promise, it’ll be fun! And we won’t even be out for very long- I have to be home by nine, anyways. So, whaddaya say?” At his friends’ silence, Eddie added on one more thing, “Besides, last Halloween, Henry Bowers totally kicked my ass and stole the candy I had been collecting for an hour. If I run into him again this year, I’m gonna need some terrifying ghosts to scare him shitless.”

At that, Beverly and Mike smiled. Eddie looked to Stanley, who was still thinking it over, until he finally lifted his head back onto the stump of his neck and blew out a breath. “Alright, I’m in,” he said, with a small smile. 

“Me too,” Mike said. 

“Me three,” Beverly said, the flames on her head burning a bright orange. 

Richie shot up from the bathtub, letting out a loud, cheering whoop as he did a loop-di-loop in the air. “Hell yeah!”

Eddie smiled widely as his friends broke out into conversation again, thought this time it didn’t consist of arguing- only excitement, as they spoke about which houses they remembered gave good, full-sized candy bars and how they were going to be the scariest-looking kids in town. He stuck his teeth back into his mouth and turned back to the bathroom mirror to continue getting his costume ready; he had bought a tube of fake blood from the Halloween store, and had to paint it onto his face in the most vampirish way he could think of. He thought back to when he had gone to see that scary vampire movie a few weeks earlier, and tried his best to copy how the monster in the movie had looked. Eddie wasn’t nearly as spooky-looking as his friends, but he didn’t care about that. He didn’t care about which house gave the best candy, or even how much candy would end up in his bag by the end of the night.

All Eddie cared about was that he was going to get to spend one of his favourite nights of the year with his best friends. That was the best thing he could have asked for. 

By the time Eddie had finished up with his costume, the sun had almost completely set, the sky now shades of orange and red. When Eddie stepped out onto the front porch of the house, there was a cold breeze in the air, and Eddie was starting to wish he had listened to his mother and brough a coat to wear. But, he was quickly warmed once again as Richie stepped out beside him, grabbing his hand and pulling him forward. Richie’s ghostly hand might have been cold, but seeing the wide grin on his face was enough to warm Eddie’s heart. “Come on!” he said, as he floated down the stairs and Eddie stumbled down behind him. “We gotta get started before all the good candy’s gone!” 

Eddie laughed as the rest of the ghosts trailed out of the house behind them. “What are you so eager for?” he asked Richie, having to speedwalk to keep up with his pace. “You can’t even eat the candy you get.”

“I know,” Richie said, his head doing a full 180-degree-turn on his shoulders to look back at Eddie, while his body still faced forward. “But you can! And I know that your mom doesn’t let you buy candy, only that gross sugar-free crap that tastes like dirt, so we gotta get you stocked up on candy until next Halloween!” 

Eddie’s eyes widened, and he felt his cheeks heat up. “You’re gonna give your candy to me?” 

Bill laughed from beside him. “Well, duh,” he said, showing off his mouthful of sharp teeth as he smiled. “Wha-wha-what’d you thu-th…thi-think we were guh-gonna do with it?” Eddie hadn’t put much thought into it, and the realization made his blushing face grow even warmer and his smile grow wider. 

Richie let out a snort of laugher and gripped Eddie’s hand tighter. “Come on, let’s go this way,” he said. “I know exactly where to start.” 

And he did. Richie took them to a house owned by an old lady, with eyesight bad enough to see the ghosts just as children in costumes, and with a heart big enough to give each of them two full-sized candy bars. The seven of them travelled from house to house, their pillowcases growing heavier and heavier and their enjoyment of the night only increasing as the night went on. Eddie had always liked Halloween (after all, what was there not to like about getting free candy?), but he had never spent a Halloween night like this before. He had never had a group of friends quite like this before, who could make him laugh so hard that he shot juice out of his nose, and who were always there for him after a bad day at school, who he always knew would warmly welcome him into 29 Neibolt. 

Eddie looked over to Richie, who had been walking right at his side all night, and nudged him with his elbow. “Hey, Richie” Eddie said softly. 

Richie took a break from scaring the group of little kids who were passing by them to look over to his friend. “I only promised that I wouldn’t throw bugs at people,” he said defensively. “You never said anything about general scaring.”

“That’s not what I was going to say.” 

“Good, ‘cause I ain’t stopping. So, what’s up? Want another Kit-Kat?”

Eddie shook his head. “No, if I eat any more candy I think I’ll barf,” he said. 

“So… what is it?” 

Eddie thought for a moment, looking around at the rest of his friends. They were all busy in their own conversations, comparing the treats in their bags. Eddie turned back to Richie. “Thanks,” he said. “For coming out with me tonight. It means a lot.” 

The threads stitching his lips together stretched thin as Richie grinned widely, throwing his arm around Eddie’s shoulders. “ ‘Course, Eds!” Richie paused, and Eddie watched as Richie’s smile softened from that goofy grin of his to a more genuine smile. It was a smile that Eddie had only seen a handful of times during their friendship, but he knew well enough what it meant. Richie leaned his head down against Eddie’s shoulder, and lowered his voice so that just Eddie could hear. “Thanks for not forgetting about us,” he said. 

Eddie kept his smile, though it was wavered by a small wave of confusion. “What do you mean?” 

Richie shrugged. “Well, it’s just… I don’t know. Sometimes when you don’t come around to the house for a few days, I think… I sometimes wonder when will come the day that you’ll move on. That you’ll make new friends and…” He didn’t finish his sentence, but he didn’t have to. Eddie knew exactly what he was talking about, and it broke his heart. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Bev and Bill and Stanley and Mike and Ben, I love ‘em loads, but… you’re my best friend, Eds.” Eddie didn’t miss the way Richie’s voice cracked slightly at that last part. 

“Hey,” he said, shrugging Richie’s head off his shoulder. When Richie didn’t look at him, Eddie reached out and grabbed his hand. It was cold as ice, but Eddie held on tight. “I already told you before,” he went on. “There’s no way I’m forgetting about you. Not ever, got it?” 

Though Richie’s eyes were a complete milky-white, Eddie could still see the joy returning to them as Richie’s smile grew once again. Richie’s chest puffed out in confidence, and the stitches on his mouth seemed like they were about to break open at the size of the smile on Richie’s face. “Good,” he said firmly. “ ‘Cause if you do, I’ll-”

“You’ll haunt my ass forever,” Eddie finished for him. “Yeah, I know.” 

The two fell into laugher just as Beverly, a few feet in front of them, turned and called for them to catch up. “Come on, slowpokes!” she said. “Mike says there’s a place around the block that’s giving out ice-cream sandwiches!” 

The two boys didn’t have to be told twice. Richie grabbed Eddie’s hand, and Eddie laughed as his short legs stumbled along to keep up with Richie’s speedy floating as they caught up with the rest of their friends.

[oliviaischillin1204]

lessons in how to stop being a dick

Pairing: Familial Johnny and Robby

Word Count: 1,682 words

i've gotten a few asks abt cobra kai recently (there is one in my inbox rn, i'm so sorry i haven't responded yet!) and it just reignited my inspiration for this idea i had so tada new fic!! :D

"You sure you don't wanna head home?" Johnny called out to the near-empty dojo as the last few students walked out. "Carmen hasn't pulled off yet, you could ride home with her and Miguel."

"Nah," Robby replied. He was on the other side of the dojo, wiping down the mats before putting them back against the wall. "Someone has to keep this place from getting a health code violation."

"Hey, I clean this place after every session!"

"Oh, yeah? Then why was there dried blood still on this mat?"

"I left it there. As a reminder of what happens if you let your guard down."

Robby huffed a laugh, which made a spark of something really good go through Johnny's chest. Having his son back in his life was something that seemed impossible for such a long time, and now they got to spend time together every day, even if it was while cleaning a gross, sweaty karate dojo together.

They continued to riff and bicker while they cleaned and sorted the rest of the mats, put the training dummies back in place, and mopped the floors. Robby even fixed one of the fluorescent lights that Johnny had been too lazy to get to. Finally the two of them stood side by side, admiring the Cobra Kai dojo.

"Looks good to me," Robby said.

"Yeah, same, man. You did a good job on those floors." Johnny nudged Robby's shoulder with his own. "Somebody must've taught you the value of hard work."

"Yeah, his name is Daniel LaRusso."

"Shut up." Johnny bumped him again, a bit harder, smirking when he felt Robby return the gesture. There was a beat of silence, just this side of awkward, but not wholly unpleasant.

Finally Robby sighed, turning and heading to the locker rooms. "Alright, lemme just grab my bag-"

"Robby," Johnny blurted. His son stopped in his tracks, looking back in confusion. Johnny wavered for a second, then pushed through. "I really do appreciate this second chance, man."

Robby's face smoothed out as he huffed a little laugh. "I know, Dad."

"I mean it," Johnny continued. "Even after... you know, all the Kreese bullshit, and the pony tail dude, and LaRusso, and everything... I know we're on good terms now, but... you didn't have to let me back into your life."

Robby shifted a bit in place. He looked about as uncomfortable hearing this as Johnny felt saying it. "I mean... would've been kinda shitty to just ignore you after everything."

"No, it wouldn't," Johnny said. "You'd be completely within your rights to never talk to me again. I was an asshole, and a horrible father, and... I mean, you didn't really have a dad for so long-"

"Too long," Robby blurted. "Long enough."

Johnny's breath caught in his chest. "Yeah." He coughed, looking around awkwardly for a moment. "So- you know, I'm just- I'm gonna try my hardest to stop being a dick, for everyone, but especially you. And- you know. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to be your Dad again."

Jesus Christ, he's so lame now. Having actual loved ones in his life again made him a sappy loser.

"I-" Robby started, and Johnny looked closely at him for any signs this was going to far. "I just-"

He sighed, cleared his throat, and finally looked towards Johnny again. "Thank you for... trying to be better, Dad. You are better. And... I love you."

Johnny let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "I love you too, kid."

They paused. Slowly Johnny walked towards Robby; he raised his arms, and after a beat Robby returned the hug. They stood in the middle of the room, just barely swaying as Johnny held his son.

"I love you," he said again, because fuck it, he'd take being cringey if it meant his son got to hear those words as much as possible. "I love you, Robby."

He had no idea what Robby was thinking, but he felt his son slowly drop his head onto his dad's shoulder. Johnny rubbed his back with one hand, the other cradling the back of his head. After a long moment wrestling with indecision, Johnny pressed a light kiss onto Robby's temple.

"Love you, kid."

He didn't expect a response, but after a few moments he caught a muffled response from where his son's face was buried in his shirt.

"What?"

Robby pulled back a bit; Johnny still couldn't see his face, but he definitely heard the smirk in his voice as he said, "Did Mr. LaRusso write that speech for you?"

Johnny froze. His arms were still wrapped around his kid. "You serious?"

"No, it was a great speech. Very, uh, emotional." Yeah, Robby was fucking laughing at him, the little shit. "Or did Carmen help you? You asked her what teenage boys like, and she told you they love hearing their parents say 'I love you' over and over?"

"You little shit." Johnny was baring his fucking soul to this kid, and Robby was making fun of him. This would not stand.

Johnny looked slightly down. Right under his chin was Robby's shoulder; he always changed into a tank top after practice. Before he could think about it, Johnny leaned down and blew a raspberry right on Robby's shoulder.

In hindsight, he didn't know what he'd been expecting. It didn't feel good in the slightest to admit it, but the truth is Johnny had no idea if Robby was ever ticklish. He'd never been around that long, and when he was it certainly wasn't the kind of thing Robby would've allowed before their relationship had gotten better. It wasn't even a normal tickle spot, Johnny thought- who the hell has ticklish shoulders?

Apparently... Robby does. Very much so.

Because his response to having his dad blow a raspberry on the crook of his shoulder, Johnny's half-shaven stubble scratching the skin while the rest of his shoulder buzzed with vibrations, was to squeal and immediately lose all ability in his legs.

"Jesus!" Johnny hissed, catching Robby when his son veered dangerously far to one side. "Was that- was that real? It tickled that much?"

"What the fuck-" Robby hissed in return, "what the fuck was that?" He tried to stand, but doing so would've pulled him out of Johnny's grasp, and on a whim Johnny locked his arms even tighter around his son's shoulders. "Dude, let me go-"

"Hell, no," Johnny said. And then he did it again: same shoulder, same spot, and same desperate giggles falling from Robby's mouth.

"Dad!" he gasped, his legs kicking wildly. "What are you-"

Johnny did it again, this time closer to his neck, and Robby's squeal turned into more of a scream. He slammed his head to the side, frantically rubbing his ear against the skin to stop the tingles.

"Fucking- are you serious?" he said. His ears were turning red, Johnny noticed, and his smile was wider than Johnny remembered seeing it in a while. It wasn't a smug smirk, or the measured-yet-cocky expression Robby wore after winning a sparring match. It was uneven, with lots of teeth, and looked very goofy.

So of course, Johnny immediately switched to the other side and blew yet another raspberry.

"Why?" Robby screamed, trying to slam his head down to the other side. "Dad!"

"Mhmm?" Johnny asked, keeping his mouth pressed against Robby's shoulder. "What's up, kid?"

There was no answer; his son was too busy laughing his head off at the feeling of Johnny's words sending tickly feelings all down his spine. He stamped his feet against the ground, straining against Johnny's hold, but his dad had the upper ground.

"I'm trying to be earnest, you dork," Johnny said, "and you make fun of me?" He ducked his head to go again, waited for Robby to try to protect his neck, then immediately attacked the other side.

"Do you think-" he blew a raspberry- "that Carmen had to teach me this?" Another one, this time moving one hand from around Robby's shoulders to squeeze haphazardly at his side. "Or LaRusso?"

Robby was giggling and cackling, his legs moving seemingly without permission from his brain. He tried to pull backwards, but Johnny easily switched his hold to around Robby's midsection, and now both hands were free to squeeze and vibrate all over his sides and stomach. Robby couldn't stop squealing, that was the craziest thing- Johnny never would've imagined his son could made that noise. Now that he heard it, he never wanted to stop.

"Yohohou- you said- you were gonahahahahaha stop-being-a-dick!" he shrieked, throwing his head back with laughter that seemed to echo off the dojo walls.

"This is just payback, man," Johnny teased. "Don't make fun of me when I'm being sappy and shit."

He waited for a comeback, but Robby's breaths were sounding more and more ragged, his body getting weaker and less fighty, and Johnny figured it was probably time to stop. He slowed his fingers and moved his hands so he was simply helping Robby stand upright as the teen caught his breath.

"You good?" he said. Robby coughed as his breathing slowed down, even though his face was still pretty red.

"You are-" he panted, before fixing Johnny was a hilariously inaffective glare, "such a dick."

Johnny grinned. "Like I said, it's a work in progress."

Robby rolled his eyes and turned his head, but he wasn't fast enough- Johnny saw the smile that still threatened to turn up the corners of his mouth. "Jesus Christ, man. Can we just go?"

"Hold on," Johnny said. Robby looked at him warily. "I love you, son."

"Seriously?"

Johnny squeezed his fingers once around Robby's waist, making him yelp. "Okay! Fuck! I love you, too!"

A beat, and then Johnny burst into snickers, finally letting his son go. Robby stumbled, barely catching his balance before he huffed and stomped his way toward the lockers.

"Love you!" Johnny yelled after him. Robby flipped him off, and Johnny laughed loud and bright.

Yeah, this was definitely a work in progress.

[muddyorbsblr]

onyx pt2

See my full list of works here!

Summary: Thor's return to the Compound reveals that your new pet kitten wasn't quite what you thought he was

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: language (it's like 2 cuss words but i'm still not sorry, Rogers); the lightest sprinkle of angst [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: himbo Thor hours

You couldn't believe what you were hearing from Thor. Implying that the sweet tiny kitten on your shoulder was actually the god that wouldn't even spare you a single glance sideways. The one that barely even registered that you existed.

"Thor no. It can't be. This little bub is small and baking biscuits on my cheek. He purrs. He's cat-shaped. Onyx is a cat. He's my cat. And right now you're scaring him being all up in his face like this. I say this with so much love…Thunder? Back the fuck off." Your kitten shivered even harder as he snuggled into your neck, keeping his little face buried in your hair.

"Lady Y/N, I know my brother's eyes anywhere. Especially after he disguised himself as a snake when we were merely eight years old and--"

"Changed back and stabbed you. Bleh it's me. I know the story, Thunder," you finished for him, suddenly exceedingly aware of the weight of maybe-Onyx-maybe-Loki on your shoulder despite the tiny feline frame. "But I'm telling you there's just no way that my cat is--"

You looked into Onyx's eyes and immediately your shoulders dropped, realizing that it wasn't a coincidence that his eyes were a familiar shade of blue. Thor was right; he knew his brother's eyes anywhere. The kitten embraced your face, pressing his nose to your cheek repeatedly.

"Onyx, look at me." He stilled against your cheek, his wide pleading eyes looking into yours with something that looked akin to resignation. "You were hissing at FRIDAY and Shaun about getting chipped because you understood everything we were saying. Am I right?" He didn't move, the pupils in his eyes growing wider and the corners of his eyes starting to fill with tears. "Because you're Loki?"

He took a deep breath, this little chest puffing up with air and suddenly looking significantly less cat-like than he did a minute ago. Onyx -- actually, Loki -- pressed his face to your cheek again, the action now making your breath hitch in the back of your throat. Then finally he nodded,  and the air left your lungs.

You walked over to  your apartment, Thor's heavy footsteps following just behind you, and placed Onyx/Loki on your desk in front of a notepad and a pen. "Talk." He looked up at you again with those wide pleading eyes. "Please," you added, unsure of what to feel now that the last few hours you spent with your newfound pet was being colored with the context of who he actually was.

Too many thoughts, too many questions, floated around your head, nearly overwhelming you, as your last round of pain meds began to wear off and the discomfort you were feeling gradually became a throbbing pulsating sensation throughout your left side.

Most of them revolving around why he acted the way that he did in this tiny form with you, and how long this could have gone on if Thor hadn't revealed his identity within ten seconds of seeing him. The blond god pulled out a chair for you to read along as Loki's green magic surrounded the pen and words began to form on the paper.

I made a misstep while practicing my magic and cast a spell that turned me into this diminutive feline form. I had exited my quarters earlier today to find assistance in retrieving the spell I require to reverse its effects.

"Hold on." The pen stopped mid-stroke, the cat looking at you with your hand held up. "If you can make things move with your mind, why couldn't you just get the spell book--"

"Grimoire," Thor corrected you. "He gets a bit testy when you use the other word."

"Right then, why couldn't you just move the grimoire down and reverse the spell on your own?" The pen lifted again, you and his brother crowding around the paper to read his answer.

When I scale down my form to something so vulnerable, my magic is not as potent. In theory the grimoire is only just at the limit of my powers' reach in this form and I run the risk of crushing myself with the tome.

"Loki, are you telling me you need help reaching the top shelf?" Thor chortled at the question, sounding like he was struggling to keep his chuckles at bay. "Can it, Thunder, it's not that funny." The cat nodded at you, starting to stand on his back legs again. "Okay, so why not ask your brother? He's way taller than me."

"Oh that I can answer for him, Lady Y/N," he quipped, raising his own hand up in the air. "My brother doesn't trust me around his possessions. Something about how I have a tendency to break his things."

"You know what, that tracks," you muttered, standing and presenting the kitten your hand. "Come on then, let's get you back to normal." He hopped onto your hand and you were about to put him on your shoulder before you stopped, keeping him perched on your hands instead. He meowed at you, starting to climb up your arm before you picked him up again, keeping him in your hands.

"Think my brother wants to be on your shoulder, Lady Y/N. Seemed quite comfortable there," Thor spoke up, letting out a soft chuckle when the kitten started nodding enthusiastically, agreeing with him. "Perhaps you should--"

"I let him stay there earlier because he was my cat," you shot back. "Now he's your brother, it's not the same thing." He whimpered, his little cat body shaking in your hands, taking every ounce of strength you could spare not to give in and just place him back there. He kneaded at your palms the entire way to his apartment, Thor carrying around your stepping stool.

You all got to Loki's study, setting him down on the desk as he guided you to the grimoire he needed, shaking his head at each tome on the shelf that you'd pointed at so far.

"My word, Brother, your attention to detail in these sketches is remarkable, you even got--" Loki hissed at his brother, who was currently standing by a stack of journals, a small sketchbook in his hand. "Alright alright I desist. I shall take my leave. You shall be the one to divulge this information once you are yourself again."

The blond Asgardian's heavy footsteps sounded throughout the apartment until he left, then a few moments afterward you faintly heard his booming voice as he rejoined the rest of the team. You pointed at another grimoire that finally had him nodding his little head, stepping aside on the desk to make room for you to set it down.

"Okay then," you spoke up once you stepped back down to the ground, suddenly feeling more awkward as you stood alone with him in his apartment. "I'll uhh…I'll leave you to it."

You made it to the door of his study before you heard his tiny meow again, seeing him standing on his back legs at the edge of his desk, grabby hands outstretched towards you.

"I'll see you when you're…you again. Later, Loki." The sound of his little meows tugged at your heartstrings, nearly making you turn around and…honestly you didn't even know why he'd want you there with him but you'd stay if only to wipe the sad look from his face. You couldn't deny the adorable little cat much anyways in the hours he was yours.

Then again, you probably couldn't deny him anything in his Asgardian form, either.

An hour after you walked out of Loki's apartment you were hobbling your way back to yours, having eaten enough to take your next round of medications and toting a compound that Banner whipped up in his lab that could maybe help your injuries heal a touch faster. You had half a mind to just cut the sweatshirt off of you once you got inside to avoid the lingering discomfort, but ultimately decided against it.

That wasn't a good enough reason to let a perfectly good forest green sweatshirt go to waste.

You were about to start using the compound on your ribs first when a voice stopped you. "Darling…"

That voice. You recognized that voice anywhere. Giving you butterflies whenever you heard it in mission briefings. Haunting your vivid fantasies regardless of the time or appropriateness. The voice that had you incapable of forming words on any other day.

"Good to see you back," you said, trying to keep your composure around the god.

You reached for your sweatshirt again to cover yourself from his piercing stormy gaze, but before you could, he stood before you, his hand gently grasping your arm while the other rested on your waist. "I received a message from my brother while I was in my feline form, asking if I could check on your injuries. Aid in your healing somehow, if I feel inclined. His words, not mine." Your breath hitched when his thumbs stroked at your skin more tenderly than any of your former lovers had ever touched you. "I would have done it regardless."

Your pulse was thumping in your ears from his proximity, from the way he held your gaze. From the way he held you like he was fighting every urge to pull you to him. Like he would let you step out of it if that was what you wanted.

But all you wanted at the moment was to ask him, "Why didn't you tell me who you were the second you saw me in the pantry?"

The journal Thor was holding earlier materialized on your desk, diverting your attention to the open page. Probably the page that he was commending earlier that made the raven-haired god hiss at him in cat form. The image on the page had the air leave your lungs.

It was a sketch of you.

"My refusal to look at you before was not from disdain, little mortal," he spoke, taking a step closer to you, his hand traveling up your arm and framing your face. You could feel his breath on  your skin. "It was because every time I would look upon your features, I had to fight back every compulsion to do this."

He tucked his finger under your chin, turning you to face him before pressing a tender kiss to your lips that had you weakening in his hold, your stomach violently fluttering as his lips moved against yours. You whimpered against his lips, making him pull you into his arms, weaving his fingers into your hair.

"I've longed for you, precious mortal," he whispered once he pulled away, pressing kisses along the side of your face while you caught your breath. "To know the taste of your lips on mine. The feel of your supple body pressed against me." He kissed you again, lifting you off your feet and carrying you deeper into your apartment. Into your bedroom. He laid you down on your bed, briefly licking into your mouth before pulling away, making light wash over the room with a wave of his hand. "May I heal you, darling?"

Words failed you at the sight of him hovering over you, eyes wide and pleading as he looked on at the bruises and cuts that colored the left side of your torso. You wordlessly nodded your head to grant him the permission he needed to go forward, giving you a soft smile before he leaned down and pressed his lips to your bruises.

"Much better," he breathed out, nipping at your skin before moving his hands down to the waistband of your leggings, lips traveling down to your thigh and kissing you over the fabric. "Once I have seen to your injuries, you should know that I have every intention to make you mine." He kissed you just below your belly button, humming against your skin as you squirmed underneath him, deft hands working the tight fabric down your legs. "If you wish to be, that is."

"I do," you gasped out, ceasing to give a flying fuck how desperate and wanton you sounded at the moment. "I'm yours, I'm all yours."

He smiled against your skin, kissing away at the injuries you sustained on your left leg before making his way back up your body. "You've no idea how delighted I am to hear those words from you, my darling." You felt what remained of your clothing melting away along with his, your moan when skin met skin muffled by him slanting his mouth over yours.

You woke up the next morning to the feel of Loki's nose brushing against yours, pressing kisses along your face until you let out a soft giggle from his attentions. "Good morning, sweetheart."

Your response had him running his fingers along your sides, turning you into a squirming giggling mess as you tried to wrestle your way out of his hold. "Good morning, Onyx."

A/N: I heavily debated w/ myself if I was gonna put smut in this but ultimately decided not to because it's a fluff story and I wanted it to stay a full fluff story 🥴 Just know that he did, in fact, give her plenty a mango ride 😏😏

This is probs the last story I'll post for 2023, so I'm gonna wish you all a Happy New Year and here's to the whorish insanity we'll all get up to in 2024. I have a whole lot planned out, starting with more horny bitches cuts and…a certain celebration I've been putting off because I'm drowning in a sea of WIPs 😂

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover

[nats--sw]

Little Monster | Leah Williamson

Leah Williamson x reader You and Leah have a daughter, but Leah has forgotten the one thing you asked her to do today.  I saw a tiktok a few days ago and I need it to write this. I think i want to write more about this, like a part 2 but idk yet, need some ideas 

"Leah, can you come here for a second?!" 

Leah made a face as soon as she heard your voice. She never refused to help you with whatever you needed, but when you needed her during an interesting football match, like today, her disposition wasn't at its best.  

"Can you give me ten minutes? The match is about to end." Leah knew that her request was risky and that she could end up losing, but it was the most exciting game of the week, and Arsenal was fighting for the top spot in the Premier League, and so far, the result wasn't in their favour. 

Leah waited for a few seconds for a response from you, but when more than two minutes passed, she knew she was getting into trouble. She didn't want to ruin the day, so she decided to give in and get up from the sofa, muttering a couple of curses on her way to the kitchen. 

"Hey love, what do you need?" she asked with the sweetest voice she could do. But when she saw you looking at her from head to toe with a serious expression, she knew her attempt to not worsen the situation had been in vain. 

"Why are you dressed like that?" Your serious tone of voice was reasonable. Beth had invited both of you to a dinner to celebrate the team's latest win in one of the most important matches of the season, and you had to leave in less than an hour to arrive on time. But Leah was still in her Arsenal shirt and a pair of shorts she always wore at home. 

"I won't take long to change. What do you need help with?" Leah quickly changed the topic of the conversation, lowering her gaze to the cake you were struggling to finish decorating. "By the way, that looks delicious," she muttered, trying to scoop up some frosting with her finger, receiving a playful slap on her hand in response. 

"If it's not Olivia, it's you," you muttered, referring to your daughter, who had done the same thing as Leah twenty minutes ago. At least she had been smarter and had quickly run to her room before you could say anything to her. 

Leah was about to defend herself, but your daughter's shout echoed throughout the house, drawing both of your attention. 

"A gooaal! Yees!" 

Leah practically ran towards the living room, cursing when she realized she had missed the goal that tied the game. But Olivia, who was only four years old, had managed to see the goal and well... being the daughter of a footballer it was obvious that she knew the excitement of seeing your favourite team score a goal. 

"It was a goal, mommy!" Liv approached Leah, who instinctively lifted her in her arms while watching the goal replay. "Did you see it?!" 

"I can't believe it, Liv. We are so close to win this now." The joy of the goal was interrupted by your presence. Any other day, you would have found it the cutest thing in the world to see your daughter and your wife dressed the same while enjoying the match. However, over half an hour ago, you had asked Leah to help Liv change her clothes, but she was still dressed the same as before. 

Leah closed her eyes when she remembered what you had asked her to do during halftime. She was almost afraid to turn around now. "I'm sorry, dear. But we still have time, we'll change right away, don’t worry." 

"You have 20 minutes, Williamson," you said before returning to the kitchen, avoiding an argument. 

"Mum is upset." Liv whispered. 

"Yeah, don't tell me." Leah replied shaking her head.

- 

"Okay, where is the outfit mum chose for you?" Leah asked, placing Liv on her bed. 

"I don't want to wear that, mommy." 

"Why not?" Leah started searching and found the dress under the bed, Liv's usual hiding spot for her mischievous activities or snacks stolen from the kitchen. "But it's your favourite dress," she said when she saw the little blue dress. 

"I don't like it anymore." Liv said, crossing her arms. Leah sighed; it was always a battle to get her daughter dressed. However, you and Leah had decided not to force Liv into wearing something she didn't want. Instead, you always tried to find an agreement that made everyone happy, you wouldn't make her wear something she wasn't comfortable in, but you wouldn't let her go outside with the wrong shoes or shorts on a freezing day either. 

"Alright, what would you like to wear then?" Leah resigned, mostly because the dress was now wrinkled, and she didn't feel like bothering with an iron now. Liv hearing this, hopped off the bed and sprinted to her wardrobe, from where she pulled out a monster costume you and Leah had bought a while ago thinking it was cute in a certain way, but Leah knew that costume shouldn't be there. 

"Hey, where did you get that?" Leah asked because she was sure the costume was supposed to be hidden in the wardrobe you both shared. It was an old costume Liv wanted to wear every day back then, which wasn't a significant issue before, but since she started school a few months ago, you and Leah had decided to hide it to avoid daily battles. 

"I found it." Liv responded nonchalantly, handing it to Leah, who didn't know what to do. “I want to wear this, mommy.” 

"You can't go with this, sweetheart. Your mum won't be happy with me if I let you wear this..." 

"But it's a party, mommy! Mum is making a cake because it's a party." 

"Yes, but it's not a costume party." Leah shook her head and went to the wardrobe to find another outfit to convince her daughter. 

"But I want to wear this!" Liv clung to her costume, her eyes welling up with tears instantly. 

And when Leah turned around, she knew she had made a big mistake. Liv and you had the same eyes, and the truth was she was weak against both of those gazes... Perhaps it was worth facing you being mad at her to prevent your daughter from crying over a silly costume. 

- 

The twenty minutes you had given Leah had already passed a while ago. You had already finished the cake; everything was ready and in the car now, all that was left was for Leah and Olivia to come down. You were still a bit annoyed that Leah had forgotten to do the one thing you had asked of her, of course, it was an important match for her, and you understood that she got distracted, but it was just one thing she had to do while you had taken care of everything else.  

"Leah! We're going to be late!" you shouted from the first step of the stairs, holding the car keys in your hand, ready to go. 

"I'm coming!" you heard Leah and her steps around the second floor. And when she appeared on the stairs a few seconds later in a simple outfit, not quite formal enough, all you could do was smile because she looked beautiful as always. "Please don't be mad," she murmured as she reached you, taking the car keys from your hand and leaving the house before you saw Olivia. 

With that gesture from your wife, you knew that something had happened, so you weren't surprised to see your daughter coming down the stairs in her costume, with a big smile on her face. At least Leah had taken the time to do her hair. 

"Wow, I thought I wouldn't see this little monster anymore." you said, taking her in your arms and giving her a few kisses on her cheeks until Liv laughed and pushed you away with her hands on your face. And like when you had seen Leah in her outfit, you couldn't bring yourself to be upset that Olivia wasn't wearing what you and Leah had agreed on because she looked completely adorable in her little costume.  

"Do you like it, mum?" Liv asked, trying to adjust her costume, which had moved with your attack of kisses. You couldn't say that you loved it, but after all, it was a dinner with friends, and you were sure that when you arrived at Beth's, all the girls would be all over your daughter. 

"I love it, darling." 

- 

The car journey was quiet, not because you were still upset with Leah – although you were still annoyed, but now it wasn't for the same reason as before or because of Liv's costume. You were mad at her because as soon as you got in the car, Leah blamed you for missing the end of the Arsenal match, where they lost in the last minute. Was that your fault? Clearly not. In fact, if Leah had done what you asked her to do during halftime, she could have watched the entire second half without interruptions. 

Leah didn't usually get upset if her favourite team lost a match, or at least she didn't show it to you, but this time Arsenal had lost the top of the table and she had missed the most crucial minutes of the match that everyone would be talking about all week.  

But that wasn't your fault.  

"I'll help you, darling." You told your daughter as soon as Leah parked outside Beth's house. It was a blessing that Olivia hadn't figured out how to unbuckle her seatbelt yet, so Leah usually took care of that, but now you offered to do it just to get out of the car. 

Leah didn't say anything, she just gripped the steering wheel to hold back the anger she felt towards herself for being such an idiot and taking it out on you when you had nothing to do with it. She didn't get out of the car until she saw you ringing the doorbell.

Leah didn't want to ruin her friends' celebration, and she knew you didn't either, so she just had to pretend that everything was perfectly fine, something you and her had done more than once during all the years that you had been together. 

It was a simple task, and when Leah placed her hand on your waist and you didn't move away, she knew you had the same idea in mind. 

"Oh, I didn't know we had a little monster as a guest." Beth said when she saw the three of you outside her house. 

"Hiii" Olivia approached Beth, who had crouched down to give her a hug. 

"I couldn't convince her to wear something else." Leah said, laughing a bit while still holding you by your waist. 

"That's why mum is mad at mommy." Olivia blurted out, not intending to reveal her mothers' actions, but she was a child, and that's something kids tended to do. 

"Huh?" Beth raised an eyebrow with a hint of curiosity. 

"That's not true, Beth." you said, trying to downplay the situation your daughter had brought up. "Why don't we go inside? It's a bit cold out here." 

"Yeah, of course... sorry. The girls are already inside." Beth said and stepped aside to let you and Liv enter, blocking Leah from passing. "What did you do to upset your wife?" she murmured, ensuring you couldn't hear her words. 

"Nothing, I was just being an idiot, but don't worry, I'll fix it." 

- 

Just as you had thought, all the girls were around Olivia as soon as they saw her. Many of them had known her since she was a baby, so Liv felt attached to each one of them. 

"I think she gets more adorable every day," Beth appeared by your side, watching the girls sitting on the floor playing with your daughter. "I thought that costume had disappeared, or at least that's what Leah had told me." 

"Well, she found it," you murmured, still smiling. Seeing your daughter surrounded by people who loved her made you happy. 

"So... what happened with Leah?" Beth asked, pretending to sound disinterest. "She's been in the kitchen for half an hour, as if she's punishing herself." 

"I know Leah is your friend, but that doesn't stop her from acting like an idiot sometimes." 

"Oh... believe me, I know how much of an idiot she can be. But I think she's more than sorry for whatever she said." You chose to not say anything; you'd think about it once you got home. "Look y/n, you know I don't like to interfere in other people's relationships, but I think it's unfair that Leah is stuck in the kitchen missing out on moments like these." 

"I didn't send her to lock herself in, Beth." 

"I know, but you know how Leah is, she tends to punish herself and deprive herself of these things when she feels she had made a mistake," Beth sighed. "I've known you since the beginning of your relationship, I've been there for every one of your fights, and I know that at the end of the day you'll forgive each other as always, so why not do it now?" 

You contemplated Beth's words for a moment. She was right. You knew that when you got home, Leah would apologize and try to make things right, and you would forgive her before going to bed, so you could avoid the suffering that would last a few more hours. 

"We both know Leah adores these moments. She may have been an idiot by messing with you when you had nothing to do with it, but she doesn't deserve to miss this." 

"Fine." you said, shaking your head. "You stay in charge of my daughter until I get back, and please don't give her any more sweets. I don't want to deal with a sugar rush when I get home." 

"No promises." 

- 

Beth was right, Leah was in a corner of the kitchen as if someone had punished. 

"Hey" as soon as Leah heard your voice, she looked up from her phone and straightened her posture. 

"Did something happen? Where's Liv?" she quickly asked, thinking the only reason you'd talk to her was about something related to your daughter. 

"She's playing with the girls," you replied and approached her, resting your head on her shoulder, an action that made Leah stiffen, too afraid to move. "You know I'm not upset about the costume, right?" 

"Yes... deep down, I knew you wouldn't be bothered by that," she murmured, daring to put her arm around your back to make sure you wouldn't leave. "You're upset about what I said in the car... I was a complete idiot." 

"Exactly, you were an idiot. You acted like a straight man, you know?" you said, smiling a bit. 

"Wow, I think I've never been insulted like that." she said, looking at the floor with shame. "I was really that bad?" 

"Leah, you said that Arsenal lost because of me." you rolled your eyes, trying to move away from Leah's body when the anger returned at the memory of her words. But you didn't take more than two steps before Leah grabbed you by the waist and turned you to face her. 

"I'm really sorry. I know it's not an excuse, but I was stressed because we were running late, and I couldn't find something to wear, and the Liv's costume... my emotions got mixed up, and I did something that wasn't right, so I'm sorry," she said sincerely, never breaking the eye contact. 

"That doesn't change the fact that you're an idiot," you replied, and before Leah could defend herself, you placed your lips on hers. "If you make a scene over a silly football game again, I'll kick you out of the house and tell your mother. Do you hear me? And we both know she won't be happy." you said as you pulled away from her lips, but you kept pointing at her with your index finger. 

"Of course love, whatever you say," she kissed you again. It wasn't an intense kiss, but you could feel how much Leah wanted to express to you in it because she kept holding you by your waist to prevent you from pulling away. 

"Yuck!" Olivia exclaimed, frowning when she entered the kitchen followed by Beth. 

"Indeed... yuck." Beth laughed as she saw you with flushed cheeks and the huge smile on Leah's face. 

"Shut up, Beth," Leah laughed, approaching your daughter. "And you, little monster, I think you've had too many sweets while we weren't there." 

Olivia shook her head, but the blue all over her mouth gave her away. "I haven't eaten anything, mommy." 

"Sure." Leah rolled her eyes and picked up your daughter. "Come on, let's go find Viv so we can play for a bit." 

When your wife and your daughter left the kitchen, Beth approached you with a smile on her face. "I was right then?" 

"Shut up, Beth." 

[areyouwell]

Algophobia

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

Ch.7

Ch.6, Ch.5,5, Ch.5, Ch.4, Ch.3, Ch.2, Ch.1 <-

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!Mutant!Reader

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

Word Count: 14.5K

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Todd.

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

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

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

And you lost her.

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

And froze completely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nine Lives Minus One.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Logan…?”

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

“Logan?”

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

“Logan!”

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

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

“I’ll look after yer truck. She’s–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And by nobody more than him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

New weapons.

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

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

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

Rap rap rap!

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

Rap rap rap!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fucking great.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was often a bombsite when you’d return.

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

Speaking of sweet treats…

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

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

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

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

Wait, who?

And when you went…

Wait, where?

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

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

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

You felt something wither away and die in your chest.

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

Three people were taken to hospital.

Two of them died.

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

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

One word.

Or an animal you guessed.

Or a bug.

Were bugs animals?

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

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

Firefly.

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

“You okay…?”

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

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

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

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

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

You all stood in utterly stunned silence.

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

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

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

Or rather… not going on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Guys?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, firefly.”

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

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

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

Unfamiliarity.

You had no idea who he was.

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

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

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

Logan had made sure of it.

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

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

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

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

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

But a hole of doubt had burned through your gut.

“Wait… isn’t that–”

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

Total coincidence…

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

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

What would stop them this time?

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

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

“You have thirty seconds.”

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

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

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

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

“Because they’ve–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No no no nono nononononono–” Your mouth fell agape in fear as he fell to his knees, small rivulets of blood leaking down either side of his face as he clawed at the sides of his head.

“Joes?”

“Joes!”

“The hell?”

Adrenaline pumped through your blood as you slowly started to realise whatever the fuck was going on, it very much was not good. In fact, it was most likely that all of your lives were on the line. And you knew that right here, right now, you had to make a choice. You all did.

“You got a clear shot, Scott?” Kitty asked, stepping behind Logan slightly. Though he didn’t mind. As long as she was safe and out of the line of whatever fire could come their way, he was more comfortable. Now if only he could get you in a similar way.

“Lined up.”

“Don’t shoot!” Rowan waved his arms frantically as Scott’s fingers braced against his glasses, jumping between the mutant and his friend. “If you shoot Naji’s dead, for sure. Just– just hold on, okay? We can figure this out.” He pleaded, to the amusement of Dr. Kreva from above, his cackling laughter sure to haunt your nightmares for a good long while after.

“Oh, Five… always the peacekeeper. Always the pacifist. It’s a shame you’re such a killing machine, though nothing like your sibling. We should showcase that, Eight. Show them all what you’re capable of…” Kreva placed a thumb and forefinger beneath his chin mockingly, once again making a show of having you all at his mercy. “In fact… One, if you could. Not too much though, just enough to unleash the Phantom.” You felt your blood turn to ice in your veins. That was your mutant name… how the fuck did he–

Pain ripped through your mind as you fell to your knees, your hands biting painfully as you caught yourself before you broke your nose on the ground. Though where you should have felt cold steel, you instead heard the groaning of tight leather and a low grunt of impact.

It felt as if you were being unstitched, torn open with a rusty knife. Your head split apart and searched inside as Naji’s mutation invaded your conscience. You heard a scream coming from somewhere but were too focused on trying to stay sane as memory fragments of pure agony were thrust into the inner walls of your mind, scraping down your subconscious. White hot pain laced through your throat and you finally realised it was you screaming, your voice cracking and breaking as you fought Naji’s hold.

Rowan screamed your name as Logan lunged forward to catch your fall, dragging you into his lap and holding your arms by your sides. “We gotta go!” He roared to Scott, who nodded in agreement, barking out orders just as Kurt bamfed into existence. Morgana reached for you as Kurt placed his three-fingered hand on her shoulder, her desperate scream cut short as she was teleported from the room. Logan turned his attention back to you, back to the searing torment etched on your face as you writhed in his arms. “I know baby, I know, it hurts, just hold on.” He called your name soothingly, though his voice shook. Seeing you like this, in such pain, ripped at his self-control. And he loathed how you would have to do this all again when he got you back home.

What Logan didn’t know, was that you’d heard his voice, and held onto it. You wouldn’t let yourself be manipulated so easily. Fighting Naji hurt. It hurt like hell. He was fucking strong, winding a white-hot thread of memories throughout your head, but you thrashed and flailed from his twisting web, using your dream visitor’s voice as an anchor point.

“What’s happening to her?” Logan’s eyes left your face for two seconds to meet with a pair of golden ones he’d only ever seen fighting against him. Rage flared in his gut as he thought of the man who’d assisted in your capture, but this wasn’t the same guy. Sure, he had his body and his face and his powers, but this was a sibling. A brother. He was your brother, and Logan could see that in the way terror pinched his brows and widened his eyes.

“I don’t know, but we need to get her out. Now.” Logan responded, removing a hand from your arm to smooth back your hair as your neck all but snapped backwards, head almost rolling off his lap completely as your entire body contorted violently. It was getting worse.

Rowan nodded, a flicker of determination glittering in his golden eyes, before extending his hand out towards the light. “I can buy you time. Get her safe,” he instructed, and Logan found his rage toward him settling slightly. “I’m R–”

“Rowan. Yeah, I know. She spoke about you a shit ton.” He gave Rowan a half smile as his head tilted in confusion. Logan held out his hand. “Logan.”

Though the bafflement didn’t fade, Rowan shook his hand nonetheless, before getting to his feet, his hand still extended towards the light. “When I say run, run.”

“Thought you were a pacifist?” Logan asked, holding you tight against his chest as he lifted you from the ground, the shadows in the room now quivering in anticipation. Naji was winning. With a glance to both Scott and Kitty, he could see they’d been listening in and were ready to bolt at a moment’s notice.

“Not when they threaten my fucking sister,” He spat, the skin along his forearms and neck beginning to glow a bright, blinding white. “Go.” Was all he said, before the room erupted in sunlight, and Logan took off at a sprint, keeping you close to his heart. He had you back physically, your strained breaths and grunted whimpers told him that much.

Now he just needed to get you back mentally. And for that, he needed Charles.

“S’okay, you’re okay, just a little longer baby, I know…” he soothed as he raced round the corner, struggling to hold you still as you fought his hold, the darkness of the corridor lashing out in great, spiked tendrils, slashing at his arms and legs and leaving searing lines of crimson through the leather of his suit. His stomach flipped as he looked down at you, your spine arching back, head snapping, eyes rolling up behind your skull leaving behind nothing but black, hollow darkness. He was losing you. Fuck, he was losing you.

“C’mon on sweetheart, c’mon.” He ground, feet pounding against the floor as one of his shoulders was ripped back, knives of pure shadow tearing through flesh. He grit his teeth against the pain, racing through a set of open doors and launching the two of you towards the stairs, taking them two steps at a time. Your mouth opened as you released a strangled scream, your limbs jerking and flailing in his grasp, Logan almost losing his grip on your writhing body. Tucking your head between his collar and jaw, he pressed on until he could finally see the service door they’d snuck in through. “S’okay, not much farther now. Keep fightin’ him, firefly. You gotta keep fightin’.”

Serrated knives tore through your memories, flashes of pure, unadulterated agony rushing your nerves, setting your veins alight with liquid fear. Thrashing your head back, you attempted to clear your mind’s eye of Naji’s hold, razorwire slicing at the base of your brain. You had very little knowledge of brain anatomy, only knowing the basics, but you knew for certain he was attempted to break through your hippocampus both physically and hypothetically. But you held onto him. Onto the man who, in turn, held you. A kernel of safety shining within the ocean of fiery anguish. You held onto his voice, their meaning.

Shadows swirled around your wrists, encasing your hands in two sets of obsidian claws, raking down both sides of Logan’s arms. You were losing the battle, he knew you were, if Joseph was right and you didn’t remember anything, there was no way you’d have this kind of control over your mutation. Using his already-healed shoulder, he burst through the locked service door and barrelled down the stone tunnel, out into the night-air. He didn’t know what Obscurity’s range was for his mutation, but he had to assume it was limitless. Anything less and he was likely to let his guard down.

Breath burned in his lungs as he sprinted for the jet, hearing the door behind him open and close another two times for both Scott and Kitty. He didn’t know how many of your friends Kurt had managed to rescue, but it didn’t matter to him. You were there, in his arms. And as long as that was his reality, he didn’t give a shit about anything else.

His feet thundered against the metal of the ramp, and ducking into the deck of the Blackbird, he was greeted by an extremely concerned-looking Jean the moment her eyes lay on you.

“Help me…” Logan begged, collapsing to his knees, and the redhead wasted no time in extending her hand towards your rapidly twitching head, veins of pitch black etching their way up your neck towards your temples. Instantly, Jean grimaced, her mouth gaping in some unseen pain as she entered your mind. All Logan could do was sit and watch helplessly as she engaged in some kind of mental battle with Naji. Her brows pinched with effort, the tendons along the backs of her hands flexing and tensing with strain. Logan desperately swiped your sweat-matted hair from your brow as if to clear a better path for Jean’s mutation.

“Jean!” Scott barked, fear echoing around the deck of the jet as he lunged forward towards his girlfriend, only to be held back by Ororo, who looked utterly exhausted. She’d been high above the facility, concentrating on keeping the power down with various surges of lightning. And now she looked completely spent.

Slowly, gradually, your twitching started to cease, each muscle in your body relaxing separately as Jean managed to exorcise your mind of Naji’s manipulation, until you sagged in Logan’s arms, your breathing steady, your eyes closed as if you were just sleeping. Scott broke free of Ororo’s hold, rushing for Jean before she collapsed onto the hard ground. “You okay?” He asked, bracing her face in between his palms. Jean offered him a tired nod, a small smile pulling at her lips.

“Got her back.” She murmured, and Logan clenched his jaw to stop tears welling in his eyes. He gently manoeuvred your body to lie comfortably in his lap, the back of your head nestled in the crook of his elbow, his arm encasing your waist. You were back.

You were back.

Kitty knelt beside you, a hand grasping your limp, skeletal one, tears silently sliding down her cheeks. Logan knew what she was thinking. What she was contemplating. What had they done to you? What fresh horrors would you be battling once they returned your memories? Logan’s thumb slowly caressed your protruding ribs. He’d be there with you. Whatever you had to endure next, whatever fresh hell awaited you when you woke, he’d be right there next to you.

“We gotta go…” Scott muttered urgently to Ororo, who looked out beyond the ramp to the Blackbird, awaiting Kurt’s next arrival.

“We can’t… they’re still in there!” Morgana raised her head from where she’d been sat on one of the seats. “Atlas, Joseph, Naji and Rowan are still–” she was cut off by another puff of blue smoke, Kurt falling to the ground and releasing Rowan’s arm from around his shoulder. Blood leaked from the blonde’s nose, his hands braced against the steel as he caught his breath.

“Is she okay?” Were his first words, barely looking around before his golden eyes rested on your unconscious form and Logan’s protective hold. He could almost smell your brother’s disdain, his nostrils flaring as he slowly pieced together the narrative in front of him. “Logan, right?”

Logan nodded once, returning Rowan’s cold look with one of his own, baring his teeth ever so slightly as he tried to gauge the threat of you being taken from him again. Rowan visually backed off, his expression to exhaustion. “I guess a lot can happen when you don’t see someone for eight years. As long as you take care of her, that’s cool with me.” Rowan shrugged, having recognised just exactly what he was looking at.

As the Blackbird rose from the ground, Morgana clicked the belt across her middle and shakily made her way over to sit next to Rowan, eyes flickering between you and him.

“So… those dreams she had… they were actually memories?” She asked him slowly, and it took a moment for Logan to process all the subtext of the question before he nodded again. Even with your memories replaced, you could never truly forget him. The realisation made his chest swell and his heart ache. He was acutely aware of Rowan listening into the conversation. “Holy shit…” She breathed, tapping your arm lightly. “I hope you’re listening, you lucky bitch. He’s fucking gorgeous.”

So this was the Morgana from the reports. This was the girl he’d read about, not the one who aided in your capture two months ago. What the fuck had Kreva done to you all? How could he get Naji to manipulate you all in such a way? To the point where you’d all help him. Although it was a nice breath of fresh air for even a thread of humour to be woven into the cockpit. “Right, Erin? You’re with me on this, yeah?”

Morgana turned to the green-haired girl who’d curled up against the wall, her hands hugging her knees against her chest. “Erin…?” Morgana asked tentatively, and only then did Erin look up.

“We fucking left them.” She spat, her eyes rimmed red with unshed tears. “Atlas… Joes, Naji…. We just fucking left them. You got your precious Phantom back and just abandoned the rest of them.” Her hands flexed around her knees, chest tight.

“I’m sorry…” Kurt piped up from where he’d been nursing a small graze on his arm. “I couldn’t… It was carnage in there. I rescued who I could but–”

“Yeah well, it wasn’t fucking good enough. Who said we even needed rescuing anyway? This could all be total bullshit.” She hissed through gritted teeth, and Rowan placed a hand protectively on your shoulder. Logan knew he shouldn’t have bristled the way he did, the man had proven himself loyal, but he couldn’t help the memories of that night flashing to the forefront of his mind.

“Erin, we’re not abandoning them. We’re gonna go get them back, right?” Rowan looked to the rest of Logan’s team, who in turn looked at each other in uncertainty. They had you back. That’s what they came for. But something niggled at Logan’s mind. You wouldn’t stop there. If the tables had been turned and you were saving him, you wouldn’t stop until everyone was safe. He himself included, but that was given.

“No. We’re not abandoning them,” He spoke for his team, five heads snapping towards him, each with their own look of shock. “Ya know she’s just gonna go after them herself, right? And she wouldn’t stop til they’re all safe. And I dunno ‘bout you, but I ain’t letting her do that alone.” He finished, and Kitty smiled at him with tearful determination.

“Agreed.” She said, turning to the rest of the team. Ororo nodded and Scott sighed heavily, only swayed when Jean placed a hand on his arm.

“Alright then… guess that’s our next mission.” Scott sighed, irate.

“Thank you. They’re our friends so we really– Joes?” Morgana’s head tilted to the side as suddenly, seemingly out of thin air, Joseph blinked to existence, Rowan’s wrist held firmly in his grasp. Logan’s heart stopped. This wasn’t the same mutant they’d saved from testing during the mission. His eyes were glazed over, subdued hatred burning in his pupils as Rowan turned to his friend.

“Just Five.” He rasped, white foam leaking from his cracked lips.

“Joes? What’s–”

“ROWAN!” Logan roared, lunging across your form to take hold of your brother, only his fingers grazed nothing but thin air. Whatever Naji had done to Joes, it was the same thing he’d done to Morgana that night. And Rowan all too often.

But he was gone. Your brother was gone. And now there was no debate about what you’d do when you woke.

He just hoped, that whatever Charles restored, would be enough to get your brother back too. For your sake.

[mindfulstudyquest]

❥﹒♡﹒☕﹒𝘀𝘁𝘂𝗱𝘆 𝘁𝗶𝗽𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗮𝗰𝘁𝘂𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗺𝗲 𝗽𝘂𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝗮𝘀𝘀 𝗼𝗻 𝗮 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘀𝘁𝘂𝗱𝘆

organization: i know it's the most trivial advice in the world, but i swear it works. before doing anything, i take my planner and review everything i have to do, i divide the study by subject, amount of things to study and review spaces for exams. realistically, you can't expect to do it all in one day, but a good plan could almost allow you to sleep at night!

a clean workspace: i can't fucking concentrate if there's a mess aroud me, i get distracted easily, even by dust, so before i start studying i always deep-clean my desk. i know that not everyone can afford a personal and quiet place to study in their houses, so try to find yourself a small angle where you can really focus.

go to study in a library / café: i didn't believe it at first, but it's actually useful. if you have the opportunity to go to a library or a café after school ( or near your house ) do so. being surrounded by people who are studying like you really helps to focus, you'll be less inclined to get distracted and procastinate. i would feel uncomfortable using my phone in a library with other people who are doing their work while i'm sitting there scrolling on tumblr.

breaks: ik ik, not very blair waldrof, hermione granger, spencer hastings, rory gilmore of me, isn't it? but is it worth it. sometimes i end up having really bad headaches from studying and, even if i keep studying, the quality of my work decreases significantly. breaks are fundamental. i would not recommend using social networks for your beak, because they litteraly drain your attention, rather do your skincare, prepare yourself a snack ( eating is important! it's what makes you focus ), read 10 pages of your book, dance a little bit in your room, do stretching, go outside and buy some mint chewingum, something like that.

EAT!: girls, boys and theys, we know. i honestly think that almost every person that craves academic validation ends up developing a sort of eating disorder. it's not even the food, is the fact that you are too busy studying that you forget to eat, ignoring stomach cramps, or the fact that you didn't get that answer right and now you don't feel like you deserve the lunch. i understand bc i AM like this, like you. but think about it: you need to do it in order to survive ( but this is secondary to the grades, right? ) and to keep your brain active. you can't walk around with blurred vision because you haven't eaten or drunk for fourteen continuous hours. i swear that eating like a normal human being helps you to keep going.

sleep: same thing as eating, but with our terrible sleeping schedules. i know that school is toxic so we end up finishing our homeworks at 2 am everyday ( if we're lucky ) but when you have the chance, take a nap and recover.

repeat things as if you were explaining them to someone: this is litterally the fastest way ever to learn fundamental concepts when you're studying. imagine that you're talking to a friend that doesn't know anything about the subject that you're studying and try to explain the topic to them. finding simple words for a difficult topic will help you understand it thoroughly, on this basis you can then build an articulated and more academic speech. repeat things out loud, doesn't matter if you look crazy, you already are <3

check and organize your notes the same day: i never have time to take proper notes in class, so i review them as soon as possible, with the lesson still fresh in mind. it really helps me understand the subject and makes the further study much easier.

watch youtube videos: youtube is my favourite class. sometimes teachers are dumber than students and you, who don't have a degree in that subject and are tackling a topic for the first time, don't understand a damn thing. ofc not!! sometimes professors are terrible at explaining stuff, but fazal from pakistan isn't. i passed my physics class with a 10/10 thanks to an indian guy on youtube. documentaries and yt videos are a simple and nice way to understand better topics and do insights for extra credits.

delete social media: i'm gonna do another post specifically for this.

"STUDY!" wallpaper: last but not least, the dumbest yet the smartest advice, set as lockscreen a white / black / whatever background with a big fat "STUDY!" written on it. everytime you're about to pick up your phone and procastinate the wallpaper will scold you.

hope this was useful or at least fun to read byee

[apostleofgreed]

My friend's thoughts on read Gideon the Ninth (she's doing audio book)... Spoilers obviously

Oh my God I'm less than an hour in and I'm sick of the word ass

The gals have just arrived at wherever it is they've gone to

Like it's taken 7 chapters to get the information of "I tried to run away, did not succeed, that Slag I hate who killed her parents wants me to be her guard dog, were off lets go"

I can't believe this bitch just said "yo"

Gideon is full cockney

"He had upsetting biceps" mood

I need you to know he's incredibly Welsh (regarding Magnus)

Yeah Magnus is my fave tbh I'm like just make the book about him

Oh what the fuck (Magnus died)

Are you joking me this is a travesty it's rude (Still Magnus)

I think I like Harrow because she's just unapologetically a bitch and Im here for that

70% of this book is everyone arguing

If they were that committed to killing like 200 other kids why not just... Stab her???

I'm like Gideon you just had a bath for the first time are you sure you wanna try the pool babygirl

Cause she sounds like she's old Gideon stop being a gentraphile (about Dulcinea)

I've been listening to this whole thing like weird flex that you fancy her but ok

(At this point she told me I'd need to give her the plot for the next two books as she wasn't invested enough to get them)

Nah I got like 2 hours left. More people have died and the CEO of the universe is en route

To be fair I'd be fuming if I was the emperor and I'd paid for all of my world rules to go on an all expenses paid trip to my second home and they all start dying for real and ruining the house

V glad Naberius Tern is dead

Oh lawd everyone really do be dying

"I want to die! Why was I born so attractive?" Is such a big mood

She has bought and finished Harrow. I'll collate her thoughts soon.

[ffcrazy15]

"Just Write For Yourself"

I think the thing that gets to me the most about the whole "just write for yourself!" response to writers complaining the lack of engagement in fanfic, is that it makes me realize that there's a fundamental misunderstanding between writers and readers of how much work writing fic is.

Like, there are 2-3 scenes in any given oneshot or chapter that I want to write. I usually write those first. They'll take me a couple of, very enjoyable, hours at most.

And then I have to go back and write the whole rest of the fic. Which is work. And it's usually not immediately enjoyable.

For example, one of my best fics on AO3 is a Star Trek fanfic called Rascal'ed. This was one of the fics that was easiest for me to write, one of the ones that just possesses you until it's done. It took me less than five days to create.

And I still had to go back in and fill in blank spots and cut bad prose and revise the dialogue.

If you want to see what a difficult fic to write looks like, like my fic Leap of Faith, here's what I do for my stories that I actually plan out:

And that's just the planning. I still have to write the damn thing. And there are things in the above layout—which is just for Chapter 1, mind—that got changed between this and the final published version of the chapter. You can see that the title of the story itself was changed at some point.

So when people say, "write for yourself, not for engagement!" What I personally hear is: "I as a reader do not understand how much work writers put into getting a story into a publishable form, and I also do not realize how easy it would be for them to write the couple of scenes they enjoyed writing and then to let it sit forever in their drafts."

(Of these eight fics—averaging more than 20 pages each—only two of them ever made it to AO3. The rest remain unfinished and unpublished.)

And for the record: I, personally, have wonderful readers. Kind, attentive readers who leave me comments engaging with the work. And it's because of them that I continue to publish stories! Like, I don't want to sound like sour grapes here, because I know that I get way more comments than many great writers out there.

But I've seen, across the board, writers trying to express that they are just not getting the engagement that they desire and expect for the work they put in, and people responding with "you shouldn't expect engagement; just write for yourself."

And the thing is, I know they're not trying to be rude. I know that! Of course they don't know how hard we work, who would have ever told them? We can't blame them for not knowing what they've never been told. Which is why I just felt the need to get out here and say:

Writing fics takes a lot of work. A lot of work. Hours upon hours of unpaid labor. Any fic that you see on AO3 or Fanfiction.net or Wattpad, is not something someone wrote solely for themselves. They could have just daydreamed about it, or written a couple of scenes and then left it unfinished. But they chose to put in the hard work it took to finish it. Because they wanted other people to read and engage with it.

Please engage with it.

Because if all fic writers ever hear is "you should just write for yourself"—we might start believing it.

[teejaystumbles]

Against all odds (part 3)

Part 1 // Part 2

After his work is done and Dream finds the time to retreat to his chambers, he pulls out Hob Gadling’s notebook and reads Hob's last journal entry in its entirety.

June 8th, 1989

Dearest stranger, my friend! 

I can't believe I am allowed to call you that! Let me tell you that I nearly fainted when I found your message in my notebook this morning. I've read the words you've written a hundred times by now and still I almost can't believe them to be real. I can’t believe I’m touching the pen you must have held, that I missed your presence in my room

As devastated as I was after you didn't come yesterday, as happy am I that you chose to contact me after at all.

I'm quite embarrassed about my drunken ramblings that you must have read. There's no lie in them, but I would try and put the truth into less desperate words if I could. I must seem like a fool, fixating on you like this, after all we've only met six times so far. Still, what I wrote, that you are my one constant in life, is nothing but the truth. Our meetings are fixed points in time that I measure this immortal life of mine by now. I try not to, but meeting with you has often felt like the start and finish of an era of Hob Gadling, despite it being probably more in the middle of several. Every centennial meeting with you was the most important appointment that I would plan and prepare for (as best as I could) for months, sometimes years. So if writing to you like this is the only way I get to speak to you then I will gladly take it, and thank you for it. 

But make no mistake, dear stranger - I would love to see you again and I hope you will be ready and willing to meet me in person again someday. Because

As we are sharing truths and have both admitted that we're lonely, I would like you to know that I have never been content with our schedule. If you're willing I would love to meet you a lot more frequently. A lot of things I'd like to tell you about are long forgotten again when we meet. I guess this book is a good way to share stories with you more often now, if a regular Friday night at the pub isn't your thing. I kept notebooks like this all my life, to be able to peruse them in preparation for our meetings and choose the best stories to tell you, because I knew I wouldn’t have enough time to share them all. We got cut short so often, I wonder how you appeared to know me so well without me telling you overly much. But then, that is what you do, isn’t it?

Like with Lushing Lou, you know everyone. And now you mentioned that you do not forget anyone. Do you truly know everything about me then? Is me telling you stories of my life more of an amusement than a necessity for you? Could you actually know it all with a glance instead of listening to me ramble for hours?

Please forgive me, my friend, I do not mean to sound offended. You wrote that you enjoy our meetings - and apparently my ramblings - and I know you would not lie to me.

You do enjoy stories, then. Is that it? Are you a collector of stories? Of histories? Or is your interest actually in my interpretation of these stories and events, in how a mere human experiences the things that are so easily visible to you? I remember the spark in your eyes when I told you about printing. I was such a dewy-eyed fool then, it almost makes me laugh to remember. Did you already know what Gutenberg’s machine would mean for the advancement of humanity? Did you see me finally shaking off my rough and bloody persona as a step in the right direction? Or were you simply interested, like you said, in my experience, and how I would change over the years?I admit, waiting for you to finally tell me who you are is hard for me. But I’ve waited this long and I will wait longer, and I won’t be offended if it takes you another hundred years to tell me. We have time, after all.

Much has happened in the last hundred years. Mostly war. Humans have reached new heights of cruelty. We have become even more ingenuous at killing ourselves. We have created weapons to wipe out all of humanity. We are one wrong phone call away from destroying all we’ve accomplished with the press of a button. People are overthrowing their regimes left and right and while that is generally a good thing, I am still looking over my shoulder, metaphorically, stashing money and valuables in uncanny places like a pirate of old, in preparation for what might yet turn into a true apocalypse.

It is stressful, and I admit that the new drugs are very tempting. I have not been able to resist trying most of them over the last two decades, either to be able to relax or to be able to feel something other than dread, to see some colours in all this grey.

I participated in both wars and it left me unable to sleep properly for decades. Not that sleep was anything to look forward to. If I tell you that I’ve not had a dream since before the first World War started you will surely think that I’m being silly. That I just don’t remember them. But let me tell you, about a week ago I had the first dream since, I think it must have been 1916 or 17. It wasn’t anything magical or special, (just something very simple, about lying in the grass on a hill, looking at the sky and watching bright blue birds fly overhead) but when I woke up I cried because I felt such a profound relief! Relief that I could dream again! 

I did dream of something strange soon after, though.I dreamed of a skeletal little man, mad and raving, chasing someone that looked like a weird bird man - and here I want to make clear that I do not intend to insult you, dear friend!, but this man that looked like a bird and at the same time was neither, he reminded me of you. I can’t really put my finger on it. Just something in the way he moved, maybe, or the tilt of his head-

Anyway, it was a strange dream, and I felt reminded of you, which is why I am mentioning it, I guess. I’m sorry for rambling about silly dreams. But their return (for I am certain dreams returned, I did not simply start remembering them again) has made me hopeful again.

Maybe times are a-changin’, who knows. They always are, and hopefully for the better this time.

I could tell you a lot more of the last century, of course, but I don’t know if you care to hear war stories. I do not necessarily want to drag all those unpleasant memories up, as it took me years of therapy to get over a lot of them, if you can forgive me for summing things up like I did.

I will think of better and brighter things to tell you and write to you again soon. I would be very happy if I found a reply from you in the meantime, but please use this book at your own leisure and don’t feel pressured to answer me every time I start rambling at you.

I hope to

Yours, Hob

Yours. Dream swallows and reads the word again, traces it with his finger. Yours.

Hob considers himself Dream’s. He knows it’s just an expression used when writing letters, but somehow Dream also knows that Hob means it to be more than just an empty phrase.

His.

Dream does not know if he wants Hob to consider himself Dream’s. Dream would not trust himself with another, not before and certainly not after his ordeal. Where before his imprisonment he had felt too sharp, too lonely, too easily enraged, he now feels brittle, too thin and too vulnerable. He cannot hold another’s heart and keep it safe. He cannot be trusted with the affections of another. He has learned that, over the last billion years. Every relationship he has ever had has ultimately failed. Because of him.

He does not want Hob’s and his relationship to fail. He intends to fix this friendship that he knows he does not deserve but cannot stop himself from clinging to. Few are truly loyal to him, Dream has learned, even fewer because they want to. Hob is singular in that regard, in his enthusiasm and friendliness when it comes to Dream, despite, or rather because he does not know him. And there Dream’s thoughts circle back to his predicament again.

He wants Hob to know him and like him, but Dream is terrified that introducing himself to Hob will leave their barely-mended friendship ready to break completely.

With a heavy sigh he stops moving, realising that he has been walking in circles in his chamber while his thoughts do the same.

Maybe it will be better to simply start writing.

Part 4

[astyrial]

your missing sign suna rintarō x fem!reader (fluff) synopsis: you wonder what'll happen at the end of your skate together word count: 1.1k warnings: skate blades, rom-com ending masterlist | requests are open part 1 / part 2

   "my hands won't stop shaking, kiyoko," you watch as your fingers tremble upon trying to tie the laces of your skates. 

  despite your years of competitions and experience skating with actual figure skaters, this is the most worried you've ever felt. part of you assumes it's because suna might not be able to catch you when you fall. while the rest of your brain knows it's because you don't want it to end. you don't want to finish the skate and watch him leave seconds later, yet you know it's bound to happen. 

  and yet your hands can't stop shaking from the inevitable. "y/n, first of all, nothing bad is going to happen out there. you're both good skaters and you'll know what to do. and secondly, he likes you!"

  "you have no idea-"

  "you don't see the way he looks at you when you practice..."

  an eyebrow raises on your face, an unimpressed frown lining your lips. you wanna believe kiyoko's fantasy of the two of you kicking it off by the end of it. yet, you can still feel the lingering doubt deep within. even when you look up and see suna not too far off, his hand waving.

  it's a short wave, barely noticeable if you weren't paying attention. you raise your hand and give him a similar wave, the only difference being that you are waving him over to where you are. even if the two of you parted ways forever, you figure that it would be on good terms. or at least, better terms, than where you started. 

  kiyoko knowingly backs away, saying goodbye before retreating for her husband and figure skating partner. what you don't see is the soft smirk on her face as she walks away. certain that the two of you will get together. 

  "hello partner, you ready to throw me around?" you question, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

  partner? your mind rings with disbelief that you would ever call someone 'partner' like a cowboy. let alone someone you're romantically attracted to. luckily, it just causes him to laugh, shaking his head in confusion. he holds out his hand for you to grab, raising an eyebrow, a mischievous smile on his face, "partner? i thought we were just two skaters who won't ever skate together past this experience."

  "i wish we weren't..." you mumble, grabbing ahold of his calloused hands and pulling yourself up. 

  suna tilts his head, unable to pull his eyes away from yours. "wait, what did you say?" a small smile grows on his face and his hand holds just a little tighter against yours.

  you shrug, heart beating a little quicker at the sight of his face less than a foot from yours. despite ending up with close bodies and faces every practice, you can still feel the heat in your cheeks raise to that of an uncomfortable level. his smile stays fit on his face as he awaits an answer from you.

  "i wanna make sure i heard you right, what did you say?" suna's eyes begin to search yours, unwilling to move to anything else.

  "nothing, i just think we should get ready, our skate is almost up," of course you wanted to tell him, tell him that despite what little time the two of you spent together, you feel strongly for him. 

  however, every rational part of your mind is screaming at you that this is nothing but a winter fling. that the two of you will leave each other in a few meek hours. that suna is simply asking because he wants to see whether you told him off or something. your eyes look between him and the ice, shaking your head. 

  you couldn't possibly tell him, not when he could so easily push you away. no matter how hard his eyes stare into your soul, you can't bring yourself to tell him that everything you've wanted the past few days is in front of you. especially when you didn't know why there was such a switch in your heart. 

  "you said it yourself, we're just two skaters who will part ways after this event, let's get on with it," you pull your eyes from his, looking down at your skates, the laces pulling all of your attention. 

  "i was joking, y/n. and when i told you that at the beginning of our practices, i didn't know you then. i certainly didn't know how amazing of a person you are," suna sticks to your first name, rolling it off of his tongue like the two of you had known each other forever.

  thoughts roll into your head that he could be lying, that he's faking it to make fun of you. that maybe no one could like you like that. anxiety bubbles up through your body, and you bite your lip, keeping your eyes to the floor. suna furrows his eyebrows, lifting a hand until your chin rests on his index finger.

  he lifts your head up, a small smile on his lips, "you're phenomenal, and if you really don't want this to end, something that i hope is more than just a partnership, then i don't either."

  "i'm so happy you said that," you reach forward and grab his hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

  "i am too," he leans forward, tilting his head a little as he brushes your lips with his. 

  it's such a soft touch that it nearly tickles you, your hand tightening against his. you push forward on the balls of your feet as your face begins to feel warmer. without thinking, suna begins to smile into the kiss, his lips soft and somewhat delicate.

  you probably could've stood like that for forever, his thumb running against his your cheekbone, his fingers carefully resting on your knuckles. however, as mysterious as fate can be, someone shouts out your names. the voice sounds so familiar as it says something.

  "y/n! suna! your skate is about to start!" kiyoko stands side by side with tanaka, their arms intertwined as she waves you over. 

  suna pulls away from the kiss, his eyes lingering between your eyes and lips. he lets out a short sigh and a part of him wants to say 'fuck it' to leaving the competition just to be with you. however, as he watches you smile wildly at kiyoko and at the ice, he knows that skating with you would be the best experience he could go through. 

  "suna, would you want to go get coffee after this?"

  "absolutely, and call me rintarō. i think it would sound best coming from you."

[crucifiedfaerie]

Gibson Girl | Pt. 2 ༉₊˚✧

Kylo Ren x Fem!Reader

➴ Summary: He can't possibly have feelings for you. That would make him weak... right?

➴ Part One | Part Three

➴ Word Count: 1.3k

➴ Warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, dom!kylo, slowburn, sooo much angst, kylo is really mean this chapter :( guys im sorry, bpd king !!, kylo is an emotionally stunted asshole, gaslighting, crylo ren, dubcon, SMUT (pure filth im sorry, again kylo is mean, inappropriate use of the force, oral sex m!receiving, rough facefucking, degradation, sadist!kylo, sorta dacryphilia ??, light bruising ??)

➴ Taglist: ( @enviedear @capitanostella @teapartydreams )

A/N: kylo is such an asshole this chapter and for that i am so sorry BUT BEAR WITH ME... i have plans and i pinky promise things get better. also as hot as i think facefucking is, i have a sinus infection rn and all i could think about while writing this chapter was facefucking with a congested, stopped up nose and how horrendously unenjoyable that would be LMAO. like.. thats gotta be a form of attempted murder.

"Sir, I just think she might be becoming too much of a distraction to you." General Hux paced the floor of the command room, as he spoke. "The Resistance is closing in and your mind is being clouded by a mere technician. I believe the best course of action would be to neutralize he-"

An unseen force lifted his body into the air by his neck. He attempted to find flat ground, the tips of his shoes grazing the floor as he choked on his words.

"Do not even finish that sentence General." Kylo boomed, his modulator struggling to keep up with his volume. "Unless you'd like for me to crush your skull right now, I suggest you keep your thoughts on my personal endeavors to yourself."

With a swift motion of his hand, Kylo slammed Hux to the floor, releasing him. "Now get out of my sight."

Filled with a rage that rivaled the fire of a thousand suns, he watched as the General scrambled to the floor and bolted out of the door.

Once the door shut, Kylo ignited his crimson saber and swung at the walls, the table, everything. He screamed as he shredded the durasteel, filling the room with the scent of molten metal and burning plastic.

When he was satisfied with his destruction, he slid down the wall and slumped to the floor. His head hung between his knees, and only a trained ear could have heard the sob that emanated from his mask.

You had been staring at Kylo's bedroom ceiling for hours, replaying last nights events in your head. If it weren't for you laying in his bed you would have thought it was just a really vivid dream.

You were pulled out of your daydream by the sound of his heavy boots making their way towards the bedroom. The door swung open and although the mask hid his face, you knew he was absolutely seething.

"Hi... are you- are you okay?" You tried to sound less terrified than you actually were, to no avail.

"Fine, actually." He said coldly, his hands balled into tight fists at his sides.

You are definitely lying.

You momentarily forgot he could hear your thoughts. With an outstretched hand, he used the force to pull you off the bed and onto the floor in front of him. You wince as your warm, naked body made contact with the cold floor of his bedroom.

He leant down to grab your face and make you look up at him. "You question me? On my own goddamn ship?" He yelled, any shred of the man who held your head in his lap last night was now gone.

The lump in your throat grew bigger, your voice trembling. "You j-just seemed upset Kylo. I-I don't understand what I did wrong."

He sighed in annoyance, looking up at the ceiling for a moment. "What you've done wrong..." his grip on your face tightened, leather fingers digging into your jaw. "Is get into my fucking head."

You didn't realize you were crying until a warm tear hit your hand. "I d-d-don't under- s-stand!" You sobbed.

He wiped your tears away carelessly with his glove. "Stop! Stop crying! If sympathy from me is what you're looking for you won't get it."

He let go of your face forcefully and stood straight up, towering over you before working to undo his belt and free his cock from the confines of his trousers. The heat that grew in your core betrayed you, despite your tears and anger.

He grabbed your hair and pulled. "Open." He demanded, his tone cold and stripped of any emotion that wasn't anger. You obliged and without a moment's hesitation, Kylo shoved his cock so far down your throat you saw stars.

More tears ran down your face as he held you there, gripping your hair and forcing you to breathe through your nose.

Kylo began to move, speeding up his thrusts and hitting the back of your throat with each snap of his hips. He was unrelenting, unmerciful on your pretty mouth. The pleasure you were getting from him simply using you mouth was downright sinful. You looked up at him, moaning around his dick and silently pleading with him through teary eyes to just give you a break.

Please-

He took pleasure in listening to the noises you made. He looked down at you, a mixture of spit, tears, and his precum dribbling from your mouth. He laughed at you, "Pathetic little thing, getting off on my cruelty towards you. And you think I'd give you a break? Fuck no."

Nearing his climax, his thrusts became erratic, almost animalistic. With one last thrust and zero warning, Kylo groaned as he came down your thoat. You noted how warm and salty it was as you swallowed, hands hitting the floor and gasping for air when he finally pulled away.

He just just stood there, staring down at you and watching intently as you breathed heavily on the floor, broken. There was a small shred of goodness left in Kylo that knew this was wrong, that knew you didn't deserve to be treated like a piece of meat. He wanted so badly to drop to his knees right there and hold you, to say he was sorry and that his feelings for you ran much deeper than wanting to use you as a fucktoy. But he couldn't bring himself to admit it. If he loved you that meant he was weak, right? And under no circumstances could the First Order have a weak leader. He wouldn't listen to that part of himself, even if it absolutely killed him inside to do so.

He grabbed your clothes from the night before off of the floor and tossed them to you. "Get out." He spit.

"Kylo-" You breathed, fighting the tears that threatened to resurface. "I don't understand-" Your voice broke into a sob as you dressed yourself.

His heart shattered at how badly he was hurting you. He was angry with himself, not you. But he couldn't tell you that. "I said get out! Don't make me have to ask you again."

You cried, tears blinding you as you left his quarters, slamming the door behind you. You winced at his modulated shouting and the shriek of his saber crashing through things in his room as you made your way down the hall.

I don't get him, I don't think I ever will.

Two weeks had gone by since your last encounter with Kylo. The morning after, he had left on a mission without a word. As time passed, the bruise he left on your jaw faded to a yellow-green and you vowed to yourself by the time the bruise was gone you'd forget about Kylo and that any of it ever happened. Deep down you knew that wasn't true, time wasn't as merciful on the aching emptiness in your heart.

As you worked through a tangle of wires, a notification buzzed on your datapad.

"Command Shuttle arriving at 15:30."

In ten minutes. Great.

You ignored it and went back to work, attempting to rewire a control panel in the Command Center, that who other than Kylo Ren had apparently destroyed with his saber a couple weeks prior. Despite your yearning, he was truly beginning to piss you off.

After a while of tinkering, another message buzzed on your datapad. When you looked to see what it was your heart sank. It was him.

"My quarters. Now."

You groaned, letting out a long sigh.

Gods- Can that fucking man make up his goddamn mind. Please.

[karliahs]

i'm watching season 6, jaku fight, and i must. Scream

literally i told myself i was just gonna watch a couple of eps while i had dinner and folded laundry and now it has been. multiple hours. i'm so hype i may pass away. this show RULES

people say screaming crying etc as hyperbole but i have been. whisper-screaming so as not to be a dick to my neighbours. and crying. God!!!!

there is genuinely a lot of stuff i didn't know about. most crucial of which being. SO THAT’S HOW TWICE DIES, HUH? goddamn. i'm genuinely surprised i managed to not know that until now. fucking christ hawks. this is all so insane.

me pre s5, a fool: yeah i know people enjoy the lov a lot but it's just not my bag

me an hour ago, actively crying: he was,,,, lucky,,,

briefly managed to have a coherent thought among the hype and it's that i fucking adore twice talking about how the league is a place where they haven't given up on him for making mistakes to...hawks. who it seems has never ever been in a place where he could be anything less than perfect. and has been put under insane hideous pressure from such a young age. treated as disposable. sent into the lions den over and over. it's genuinely damning. also hawks basically having to live in a different genre to everyone else. he doesn't get a fun high school superhero adventure story, he gets a fucking dark espionage thriller. and he's 22.

hawks diversion almost over but i will say i had a brief moment right after he was first introduced where i was like hm they have kind of defanged (detaloned?) the drama of his double-bluffing a little early, bc they were very quick to reveal that no the number 2 hero is not ACTUALLY working for the league or meta army. but then they put best jeanist's probably fake corpse (jorpse) in a duffle bag and I've been incredibly along for the ride since then. this slaps.

and i had absolutely 0 idea about the entire arc of the league attacking the liberation army and again was not expecting it to be my bag bc I'm generally not a villain guy but...damn,,, and while i did kind of know the bare bones of shigaraki's backstory......christ alive

okay back to jaku screaming

the stuff i DID know about is hitting me like a truck. i knew full well aizawa gets hit with the quirk-erasing bullet and i was still yelling no no no at my screen as though that would change anything

hrg. i rly need the closure of finishing out this arc but also idk how much more hype i can take rn. i wish there was someone here to scream with me so i'm screaming at all of you instead. did you know this content that has existed for literal years at this point,,, is good

also god 😭😭😭😭 the kids and aizawa. "the worst thing would be losing mr aizawa" "please, sir, stay alive" 😭😭😭😭 aizawa thinking of eri as he CUTS HIS GODDAMN LEG OFF. I KNEW BUT FUCK. HE'S SO!!!!!

i can't believe people watched this without being spoiled and knowing everything that happens. i'd have passed away. i could never face this show without the full knowledge that aizawa makes it through okay bc i still kind of worry about him dying even when i know full well it doesn't happen. i love him so so much

[astralartefact]

NieR Re[in]carnation The People and the World Transmigration and the End of Reincarnation

If Red is the color of ______ then why did I ____ the ending of NieR Re[d ]carnation?

Between YoRHa:Dark Apocalypse, some of the RoD stories and now this, a pattern has been established:

If I didn't really like the ending of a NieR story, chances are 100% that given a couple hours to days I will figure myself into "This is the best thing ever written, I committed blasphemy against the god king by ever doubting his vision."

Because to be open and honest about it, right after playing it the ending was kinda boring to me - because if you paid attention to the periphery and knew the deep lore you already expected 90% of the reveals, the only really new thing is the rundown on what happened to His, Her and N2.

Let me phrase it like this: the Time Loop Theory didn't really need confirmation up until now. It was a thing because it fits the themes, but acknowledging it wouldn't really add anything because the vague sense of inevitability already exists simply by alluding to it and the previous narratives all already had it built into them without it anyways - so I think the only reason they hard confirmed it now was because it literally added to the story. Him and Her being stuck in the time loop of humanity's failure is why they despaired.

So long story short, the stuff they 'confirmed' I didn't really need to be confirmed (cries in no y:da) and as fine as it was, not having an immediate "Oh Shit!" Moment made the chapter kind of boring. So while kind of neat it didn't really do anything for me.

But I also finished Reincarnation at 5AM. So I went to sleep and Io and behold, I awoke to a revelation by the god king:

This was amazing. This story logistically paid off on the entirety of the game's narratives in a single chapter all while talking about something new. What the fuck. Once again, this shouldn't work. How did they do that??? How is the writing in this game so tightly unified despite being literally fragmented into 20-ish individual stories??? This game has the most writers of all NieR games and yet every single story is pulling at the same rope??? Like, how???

To me NieR Reincarnation is about two things: Number 1 - Reincarnation is a Cage, all humans are born into some level of agency-less-ness and wouldn't you know it, they have no agency about that Number 2 - 'Humanity' is a more complex thing than just 'Being of the Human Species' (which is basically the NieR theme)

I think the Robots in the cast illustrate this the best: Dimos and Marie and Yurie and 10H (and Noelle and 063y and F66x) were made for a purpose, but they didn't choose their purpose, their creators did for very specific reasons. But against all odds they find themselves human and humans have wishes and dreams, even if it's just to fulfill their purpose, they seek out the agency to make those dreams come true and if they pray for their dreams to come true they will find a way.

By experiencing the pain and despair of solitude He became human, because He wanted, He wished to not experience it anymore. By experiencing the pain and despair of the machine lifeforms N2 became human in the same way and She became human by incorporating N2's experience of pain into Herself.

And as Humans they pray for a better future. And maybe they can't do it on their own, because they're human and humans fail and cry and shit and die. Maybe they desperately need the help of someone who can help, even if it's just a little girl who is selfless enough to offer them an encouraging hand despite all of the mistakes they made. But by praying for their dreams to come true, by not outright denying the possibility of a better future, simply by hoping this better future exists we can reach it, because we're human. We will find a way.

So even I, from one Prayer to another, want to Thank You for Praying. Please believe in the future you want to see, because otherwise it will not happen. And remember, all Prayers lead to the Cage.

Also Drakengard symbolism because GODDAMN IT, JUST MAKE ANOTHER DRAKENGARD GAME YOU-----

They called her the second girl, but she's at least the third!!! (i think four if you count crym?) (but i'm pretty sure only i do that so let's do three)

I'm fucking pissed. You dare to leave the Drakengard Shit, MY beloved Drakengard Shit, as subtext symbolism??? How dare you. How absolutely dare you. I hope you know I am praying for Drakengard 5 (not a mistake) Yoko Taro and as I have established in this post you yourself have said that prayers come true if you believe in them so go ahead. I'm waiting.

No Seed of Resurrection talk, No word on Mother, No Accord, just the girl with One's horns doing the Manah stuff I deserve, because I called it back when Replicant Remake came out.

No but really though, I wonder if there might be a reason that we got basically 0 answers to Drakengard stuff and only answers to the NieR side of things. Apparently - and I have no quote for this, I just read some chatter about it - Yoko Taro has said that the next NieR game is planned, but will only come after another game he's making... and well... if this final chapter has made anything clear by omission it's that Drakengard isn't NieR... Just saying...

Also, this still it wasn't a Y:DA reference after all... They didn't even slightly allude to it q_q #AnoggForReincarnation is truly over...

But let's talk about the color Red for a second, because I have a thought.

I'm not going into it too much, we all know Red is a pretty symbolically heavy color in general, but in NieR and honestly even more so in Drakengard especially - they literally just did stain a girl in white in blood again, that's the Drakengard thing - but...

Mama's Pod is also Red. She receives a Red Carnation, a common Japanese Mother's Day gift, from 10H which is the key to 10H unlocking the truth. Clearly Red isn't just Hatred... but I haven't thought enough about it to really tell you what that's about. I will have to think about that - and if I ever come to a conclusion on that front I will tell you all about it.

Anyways, that's it for now... I can confidently state that NieR Reincarnation is my favorite NieR game and honestly by a long shot. I don't give a shit that it's a Gacha, I can't do anything about that and Yoko Taro, Yuki Wada and the Rest of the Team did the absolute most with the hand they were dealt, because clearly someone up in Square Enix does not like what the silly mask man is doing and doesn't give him the budget and creative liberties he truly deserves.

Once again a sincere Thank you for Praying - please believe in the future you want to see, no matter how distant and unattainable it may seem. You will still have to look out for and grab the hand reaching out to actually reach it - but you will only see that hand if you're hoping for one to come your way in the first place.

Speaking of which, here is my Prayer for the day: #AnoggForWhateverComesAfterReincarnationBecauseIfThisWasReplicantEndingEPayoffThenY:DAPayoffHasToBeNext

[callalillywrites]

Their Sweet Omega 3

Part 2 / Part 4 / Series Masterlist

This picks up right where Part 2 ends. I can't believe we're almost through with the main story. I'm a little sad. Good thing I have a growing list of one-shot slice-of-life fics I'm going to add as soon as I can for these three. They really do own my heart right now.

Relationship: Alpha!Jake Jensen / Beta!Pre-serum Steve Rogers / Omega!Reader

Word Count: ~1600

Summary: Omega spends some quality time with Jake and Steve, including their first sleepover together.

Warnings: nothing too drastic, still soft Jake, some insecurity on Steve's part, mostly fluff

A/N: It’s proofread but all mistakes are my own.

I do not give permission for my work to be copied or posted on other sites or fed into an AI machine.

*****

Jake can’t remember the last time he had so much fun, and he’s not about ready to see it end when he and Omega set their consoles down. He’s determined to do everything to draw it out to keep her in their company a little while longer. It helps that this is the most peaceful he’s seen Steve sleep after an asthma attack in forever.

“Hungry?”

She nods.

He stops her from getting up, not wanting Steve to wake. Hurrying towards the kitchen, he pulls the soup she’d made from the fridge and places it in a saucepan to reheat it properly. While it reaches a boil, he pulls out the griddle pan he bought ages ago, then retrieves the makings for some grilled cheeses.

While he works in the kitchen, Omega resumes her gentle ministrations through Steve’s hair, slowly stirring him awake. She’s aided by the delicious smells coming from the kitchen as his stomach grumbles from lack of food.

“I didn’t dream you,” he mumbles happily, rubbing at his eyes as he tries to shake the sleep from his system.

Omega grins down at him. “No, you didn’t dream me. Feeling any better?”

Steve turns his head so he can nuzzle against her stomach, his arms tightening their hold around her. “Much better with you here.”

The deep shadows under his eyes seem to have lessened when she manages to sneak a peek at them. He certainly seems a bit stronger with how tight his grip is around her waist, not willing to let her move for the time being. It’s a good thing she’s happy where she is.

When Jake reappears with their food on a tray, his face splits into a grin as well, seeing Steve’s eyes open and a bit more alert than they’d been earlier that day. “Hey, sleepyhead. Food’s ready. Think you can sit up and eat some?”

Steve immediately shakes his head. “Too comfy.”

Omega bites back a giggle at his antics, a little surprised but no less pleased by this side of Steve who’s usually far more reserved than Jake.

The perfect compromise comes in her ripping off small bites of the sandwiches Jake made and feeding them to Steve where he continues to rest in his original position. It’s only when Jake insists Steve have a few bites of the soup Omega made that Steve finally pushes to a sitting position, uncaring of the creases along his cheeks from his hours-long nap.

Both spend a few minutes praising her for her culinary talents though Steve doesn’t quite finish off his bowl like Jake does. He’s already ready to go back to sleep by the time Jake retrieves all the dishes and returns them to the kitchen for cleaning. He happily dives back into Omega’s embrace when she pats her lap. He’s dozing again by the time Jake returns.

When he does, Omega offers up the idea of a movie while Steve gets a bit more shuteye. She’s not any readier to end the night, either. She’s enjoying this quiet time with them.

Jake soon digs through the small collection she’s brought with them and settles on one of his favorites from the pile, loving the fact she has similar tastes to him and Steve in movies, too. He pops it into the player and asks if she needs anything before he hits play.

Rather than sink into the chair by the sofa, Jake shifts Steve’s legs until he has them in his lap, rubbing at Steve’s calves and hip. He reaches behind them to turn the lights off while the movie plays. Every so often, he’ll catch a whiff of Omega’s scent and find himself leaning closer to her.

Unknown to him, she’s doing her best to scoot a bit closer to him without disturbing Steve and his slumber. She’s just as enticed by his comforting scent.

They eventually meet in the middle with her head resting on his shoulder and his on top of hers. Steve hums but never actually wakes though he seems to have realized their intent and moved himself as well to accommodate them while staying put.

At one point during the movie, Jake whispers, “Stay with us tonight?”

“Okay.”

No argument. No hesitation. Just pure agreement and acceptance.

Jake releases the breath he’s holding, sinking deeper into the couch. His free arm leaves the back of the couch and wraps around her shoulders, tugging her slightly closer. He presses a kiss to her hair and tries not to purr his satisfaction. No sense in ruining the movie though it doesn’t stop a few rumbles from coming through. He just hopes that Omega doesn’t notice when they do.

She does, but she keeps that to herself, hiding her pleased smile.

When the movie comes to an end, Omega is doing her best to stifle her yawns. The day hasn’t been hard at all, but she got up earlier than usual to work on a large order. It’s beginning to take a toll on her.

Sensing her tiredness, Jake nudges Steve awake and helps him to his feet. “Come on, Bubba. Time for bed for both of you.”

“You, too,” Steve grumbles.

Jake simply shakes his head. “Me, too, Bubba. Come on. Gotta get our angel set for the night.”

Steve softly cheers at the thought of Omega staying the night with them, already asking her to sleep in the middle. “It’s not fair if I get her all to myself. Already got more cuddles than you. Fair is fair.”

Omega covers her mouth to hide her amusement at Steve’s words. It’s nice to hear how much they care about each other and by extension herself as she follows them into their bedroom.

“You sleeping in what you got on, Bubba, or you want a change of clothes?”

“Too much effort,” Steve says already leaning toward the big bed in the center of the room.

Jake stops him from getting too far. “Oh, no, you don’t. You don’t have to change, but you do need to brush your teeth. You can do that, Bubba. I know you can.”

A huff answers him, but it’s enough to satisfy Jake as he hauls Steve into the bathroom and sets up his toothbrush, leaving him temporarily on the toilet lid.

He hurries to gather up a change of clothes and a spare toothbrush for Omega, not wanting to leave Steve alone too long.

“Just let me get Steve done and then it’s all yours.”

True to his word, he has Steve out of the bathroom in a few minutes, leaving the door open for her to head in. She doesn’t hesitate when she overhears Steve asking if she’s really staying. He adds how much he really wants her to stay, not recalling what he said earlier about sharing her with Jake. The poor thing is still so exhausted, and she’s eager to give him a few more cuddles in the hopes of helping him.

Not wasting a moment, she hurries to put on the borrowed clothes and brush her teeth. She washes her face with some of the face wash she finds on the counter, removing what little makeup she has on. Satisfied with her efforts, she returns to the room to find Jake sitting on the bed’s edge.

“Beautiful,” he whispers before pushing to his feet. He slows her progress to press a kiss to her hair before stepping into the bathroom and closing the door.

Steve’s already in the bed on what must be his side based on the items she could make out on his side table. His eyes are hooded though he’s still clinging to consciousness as best he can to see her settle in the bed next to him.

A slight pout forms when he spots the clothing that she’s wearing though he does admit aloud, “Jake’s clothes look good on you. Mine are too small. I’m too small.”

“You, sweet Beta, are perfect the way you are. If I can’t wear your clothes, I’m sure we can find something I can wear to show I’m yours.”

“Are you ours?” he asks, his brows knitting while fighting off sleep.

She presses a chaste kiss to his lips. “You and Jake are mine, and I’m yours. When you’re feeling better, I’ll even prove it by letting you mark me.”

“Hm, I like the sound of that,” Steve says, scooting in close enough to nuzzle at her neck. He inhales deeply at her scent gland before allowing sleep to claim him again. His arm moves over her waist and tugs her until there’s barely an inch of space between them.

“Sleep well, Stevie. Love you, my precious Beta.”

All she hears is a soft hum in return.

She jumps when a warm body settles against her back, momentarily forgetting about Jake while watching Steve fall asleep.

“Sorry, angel. Didn’t mean to scare you,” Jake says, instantly backing away.

She grabs his arm and tugs him towards her. “You can never scare me, Alpha. I know I’m safe with you. Just got a little lost in thought, I guess.”

“Always here if you want to talk, angel, about anything.”

Jake settles along her back, his arm going around her waist while his face nuzzled along the opposite side of her neck from Steve’s current position. Like Steve, he inhales a deep whiff of her scent gland and moans his approval.

“I know,” she whispers, turning her head to meet his earnest expression. “I love you, Jake.”

The smile that blooms across his face can barely be contained as he leans forward and captures her lips in a kiss that leaves her dizzy with promise.

*****

Main Masterlist

Tag List: @thezombieprostitute

[kalimlover]

Should I finish this?

I needed a small challenge and I was bored so I wrote this in about 2 hours yesterday but idk if I should finish it pls give it a read

Sweet dreams.

A hot summer day in Lilias little cottage he and his new born son shared. it was a humble little house but it was theirs and theirs alone.

Lilia couldn't be happier than where he was right now with a sleeping baby in his arms.

"Lilia, I'm coming in" a deep but claiming voice had spoken out from behind the front door.

"Malleus!! It's been a while!" He smiled his gaze not leaving the small bundle in his arms.

Stepping into the cottage malleus had noticed a lot of his old baby toys and clothes scattered across the floor.  "Ah, that must be the newborn I've been hearing about." He said letting himself in, stepping closer to Lilia and the bundle in his arms.

After hearing the numerous rummers being passed around by the woodland fairy's about his old guardian adopting a child had left malleus curious so he decided to stop by himself for a visit.

"Try not to make a lot of noise malleus, I just managed to get him to sleep," he said looking up at malleus.

after taking a good look at the baby in Lilia's hands malleus  grimaced "Lilia, why didn't you tell me you've adopted a baby, and a human one no less." He said a saddened expression on his face.

"Oh malleus don't look at me like that, it isn't nothing personal I just haven't had enough time to tell you with the baby and all" the short man replied readjusting the baby in his arms to face malleus

"This is silver, cute isn't he?" Asked Lilia grinning ear to ear. Malleus couldn't believe it looking at the baby in disgust and disbelief that anyone could find that naked monkey looking creature 'cute'

"If this is thing is considered cute, then my parents are still alive." He joked earning him a small slap on the shoulder "Malleus! You shouldn't be saying such things about a baby!" Huffed Lilia "but ur right on time, I was just about to leave to the store to pick up some more baby supplies!!" Said Lilia practically shoving the baby onto malleus arms 

"huh!? Lilia you seriously can't expect me to care for this creature in ur absence, what if I break it?"  Although malleus wasn't all that happy about Lilia's newest addition to the family he didn't want to somehow hurt the infant in his arms because he knew it would make his guardian upset.

"Don't be dramatic" sighed Lilia " just gently pat him and sing him a lullaby, he'll immediately fall asleep even if he was crying. I'll be back soon enough now, so be careful while I'm gone" "WAIT LILIA! You can't just leave me alone here with this infant!" Protested malleus. Smiling the pink haired fae as he teleported away leaving the nocturnal fae and the human infant alone.

'Great' thought malleus staring down at the baby in his arms as it started to open its eyes, 'it's so ugly I almost feel sorry for it' he thought

"Well I guess I'm stuck with you beastie" he sighed staring right into the baby's weird colored eyes.

Malleus would be a liar if he said he wasn't jealous of the new addition. How could such an incompetent creature be able to catch Lilia's attention to easily while he couldn't? Looking at the way Lilia smiled and looked at the child of man made him feel bitter.

-

It's been about seventeen years since he first met the once young infant And it's been exactly a week since Lilia had announced his retirement.

Everyone had taken the news hard but the one who took the news the hardest was the silver haired boy crying in front of him.

Having obtained a soft spot for the boy over the few years they've spent together malleus didn't know what to say he was afraid of making things worse than they already were hearing the boy say such words of self hatred made him feel useless in such a situation of not being able to help.

"Lilia's raised a wonderful son,". Theirs no doubt Malleus meant what he said he truly did believe silver was an amazing son and person.

"Not one he can be proud of," the boy swallowed " I wanted to send him off with a smile and I couldn't even do that!" The silver haired boy cried shivering from the cold his eyes red from all the tears.

"Although Lilia had no obligation to raise you he still did," "what?" Questions silver " human lives are different from ours." He sighed "when I was younger, my grandmother used to tell me that the reason us dragon fae were blessed with such tremendous power was so that we would be able to keep our people happy" he grimaced "and yet I fail to ease the sorrows of two people I hold dearest to me."

He crossed his arms closing his eyes "you may see me as powerful but in reality, I am powerless." It was true, even tho malleus was considered one of the greatest mage's of his time there wasn't anything he could do. He couldn't just stop time and he can't change what was already happening.

"Please don't say that...!" He boy in front of him pleaded "you aren't power L-"

Beep beep beep beep

"I think your phones ringing malleus sama"

Silver Pointed out confused. "Do not worry it's just the toy I've obtained from Lilia" Malleus reached for The small toy he kept in his breast pocket.

"..."

Staring at the small toy in his hands malleus had noticed that his little Dragon character is gone, an egg left in its absence "hm.. drago has left an egg in his stead"

"I'm sorry..." "no, do not be"  he sighed reassuring the boy in front of him " I've been witness to his cycle of life and death, it's nothing to be saddened about."