#i'm almost an adult this is bullshit

[justaghostpirate]

if one more near-stranger gives me a cutesy nickname because i'm short and disabled i might scream

[lynxalon]

me when i'm tired and hurting and scared and angry and no one is coming to help me and i don't say that to be negative or guilt anyone who might see this vent i say it as a fact because no one is going to help i have to help myself and i don't want to i don't want to help myself i want to lean on someone for once without being taken advantage of and i want to talk about my anger and express it and get it out in a healthy manner and i want to talk about how scared i am how my health terrifies me and i don't really know what's going on and i know my body to the best extent i can i and i have worked endlessly trying to conserve energy so i can do basic tasks like dishes and bathing myself and i have been working so fucking hard to fight the internalized ableism in me that screams that everything shouldn't be this hard and i should just Be Able to do these things and i don't have anything to actually fight these thoughts! because i don't actually know what's wrong and i have tried for the past three years. three fucking years. to make this one appointment. just one. to talk to a different professional and tell them i need help i and living less than half my life and i can't take it most days i can't take this cycle of deteriorating physical health into deteriorating mental health and round and round. i'm exhausted. i can't do the things i enjoy. i work so hard to try to do them occasionally. and i work hard to try and appreciate and enjoy it. and it's just hard.

i just want to vent tonight. i'm stressed. we've been having small bug problems lately. and then there's the waterlogged part of the carpet where we don't know where the water is coming from. and tonight i saw what might have been a roach and. i grew up between my mom and aunts place, and my aunts was beyond covered with bugs. at night it was horrifying and finding a place to sleep sucked ass. so it just. fucking triggered me, and i'm so tired and hurting but i pulled out appliances and things and sprayed down bugs and spots i've seen them in and. so i sat down and i was already overwhelmed and i couldn't find the remote so i could put something on and relax. and i did find it. but i just had to sit and work on breathing and cry a bit. i'm home all the time and i constantly am thinking about this. i'm so stressed about it. OH and it was made sooooo much worse because for the first time i saw one in our room. and. that nearly sent me into a panic attack. we have been so strict with having no food or anything like that in the bedroom. and it didn't do anything. there was still a bug. where there's one, there's so many more. i am. going to try and fucking relax.

[falling-hand-in-unlovable-hand]

honestly fuck whoever decided forcing everyone to keep doing increasingly useless and complicated math was a good idea

[sabalr]

The commitment to misunderstanding is insane.

In case some other psycho gets on my blog to riff me about this, that's not what I said or what I mean. 1) I'm not american 2) I didn't say everywhere.

I am explaining why an ideal can be harmful while not being applied currently systematically. Want a different example? Fine, monarchism isn't currently the system and still monarchists are harmful.

By eugenic politics I mean laws that outlaw or otherwise prohibit the reproduction and perpetual living of oppressed minorities. I am chronically ill (Cystic Fibrosis, genetic, incurable, fatal) and our current healthcare system in BRAZIL (I'm not american) allows me to recieve all of my life-sustaining medication on government funding. So yeah, I'd say my government isn't eugenicist.

This is the last I'll say on this matter. All other arguments they may extrapolate are a byproduct of being thoroughly devoted to misunderstanding. Please, if anyone has anything to say at all, do so in good faith. I believe every single one of my messages was honest, deliberate, open-minded, and committed to spreading knowledge and warding against bigotry. If you disagree that saying "one gender is inherently awful" isn't antithetical to gender equality, that's on you. I spoke my truth on the matter and as far as I'm concerned, this is the end of it.

[coffeeworldsasaki]

I'm more and more convinced that my parents think I'm still 10 years old and have totally forgotten the almost 10 years that I've seen them max 2 hours per day because they were always working, years I've spent preparing lunch for me and my brother and do part of the cleaning

[taibhsearachd]

...ngl, the fact that ADD and ADHD got condensed into ADHD when the hyperactivity specifically is part of the reason so many girls were simply not diagnosed drives me up the wall.

It's not that the whole name isn't bullshit, because it is. It describes the way people outside of our experience perceive us, as opposed to the difficulties that are part of our lived experience. Even from an outside standpoint, it's recognizable that "deficit" is not always the issue with our attention... but that's beside the point.

When psychiatrists noticed that ADD and ADHD were basically the same thing... they chose to favor the typical male presentation in the literal naming of the condition, and in doing so condemned a generation of girls (and other afab people) to suffer through being told they're so smart, they just don't apply themselves enough, that it's a personal failing they can't regularly turn in homework, that they're lazy for waiting until the last minute to work on an assignment... because those girls weren't hyperactive. Those girls just kind of drifted off and daydreamed in classes. Those girls doodled or wrote stories all through their school years, and functioned measurably worse when a teacher noticed they were doing that and tried to stop them. Those girls are now so many of my adult friends who are now being diagnosed with ADHD as adults, because the hyperactive part of the diagnosis almost solely applies to children (CHILDREN, when, I might note, this is a lifelong condition) who are socialized male.

We need a whole other name for the condition, because attention deficit is not our problem at all. But my god, the hyperactivity part actually ruined my life for so many years, because I had no way to explain to my dad why it physically hurt me to be bored, why I had to read or write or doodle in class in order to keep my focus, why I excelled in tests but failed at homework so my grades sucked because of that. No one even considered I might have ADHD, all through my childhood, but earlier this year I had the opportunity to go through all my grade school reports, and they could not be MORE CLEARLY talking about a child with ADHD. "Pleasure to have in class", "assignments not complete", "does not pay attention in class", "Birdie is a highly intelligent child with specific and unique needs" (I would LOVE more follow-up on that one, from third grade, do not have it). But I was a quiet and reserved child, so obviously I couldn't have ADHD.

I'm legitimately angry about it in retrospect. I went off my Adderall for a couple months recently, as an adult who only started taking Adderall as an adult, and it completely fucked up my ability to function. For years I was just out there as a teenager struggling through high school and college entirely unmedicated because as a child I was too withdrawn to be diagnosed. Fucking wild and also infuriating.

[wilwheaton]

hello mr wil wheaton when you were my age (like exactly i think) you were filming stand by me

I turned 13 during production, so if you're about to become a teenager, I hope you'll let me offer some thoughts that I wish an adult had shared with me, then?

I know this is a wall of text, and giving someone this much of your attention is a HUGE ask. Maybe bookmark this for another time, if you're not into hearing an old man talk.

I wrote this a few days before I turned 50. Thank you in advance for listening, and I wish you a life filled with joy, unconditional love, kindness, and adventure.

Hey everyone! An old man is talking!

In seven days, I will be 50 years-old. This is ... weird. I do not feel the way I expected I would feel when I was approaching 50, nor do any of my friends. The only time I feel like I'm middle-aged is when my body does some bullshit that takes me down for hours because I had the nerve to stand up quickly. And I really hate it when I have to use the flashlight on my phone to see a menu. I mean, at that point, I may as well be dropping my pants for free and singing the Old Gray Mare.

Anyway. This has been on my mind for a little bit, so I had something to say when someone used my tumblr ask me thingy earlier this week:

Q: I hope I'm as cool as you when I'm 49. I'd like to think I'm taking the right steps towards that version of myself. A: So I'm not sure I'm cool, but I do know that I don't suck, and that it's a choice I make every day. I desperately wish someone in my family had told me, or shown me by example, that getting older doesn't mean getting stupid and boring and stuffy and extremely uncool. I wish I'd known that, because I spent all of my life until I was in my 40s feeling like there was this day coming very soon when I would have to stop listening to punk, stop playing video games, put on a suit, and start yelling at kids for no good reason. I didn't know that you don't have to suddenly stop being who you are and become something or someone you hate, just because of a certain age. I know that's super obvious, but to young me, it was not. My dad was an asshole, my mom never showed up for me. Directors and people on set had been treating me like a thing for my entire life. I got yelled at for no reason from adults who knew better almost every day. Most of my elementary school teachers were authoritarian, evangelical assholes. All of these different adults, consistently, shut me down and made me feel like I didn't matter, the things I liked were stupid, and my opinions were invalid because of reasons I didn't understand because I was a dumb kid. So I presumed that when you got to be a certain age, that's what happened. I didn't want to be that, at all, and I was sincerely afraid of the day it would happen. But as I got older, I discovered that all that stuff I hated about adults doesn't automatically happen. Those adults I just mentioned all made a choice to be an asshole. I just didn't know it. I was in my early 20s when I did a movie with a cinematographer who was, I think, 45 at the time. He was the coolest, kindest, most artistic dude I'd ever known. He mentored me and we had epic fun making great art together. I remember telling him, "I'm not afraid of being in my 40s like I used to be. I didn't know you could still be cool." It's sad, that I grew up in such a toxic environment, and didn't know any of these things. So, 9 days before I turn 50, here are a couple things I have figured out: You know who sucks when they hit 49 and 50? People who sucked when they were 20 and never grew up. You know who is an asshole at 49 and 50? Yep. Someone who was an asshole as a kid and never experienced consequences for being an asshole. Hitting middle age has been awesome for me. Other than the aging of my body and its reluctance / refusal to do what I want it to do, I love everything about it. I wish I hadn't spent so much of my life being afraid that, when I hit 50, it was all over. Because honestly it's kind of just starting. The coolest stuff in my life to date has all happened in the last ten years, and I'm so grateful that it coincided with me figuring out a lot of shit so I could enjoy it.

The best part of getting older, by several thousand light years, is the part where we figure out how to stop putting up with other people's bullshit, and we contract our social circle until it's only populated with a VERY few people who deserve us. And I am incredibly grateful for these occasional opportunities to be a 49 year-old dad who can say all the things that would have been reassuring for 19 year-old me to hear (he wouldn't have understood, but 29 year-old me would have remembered, and he would have understood. I think.) I sincerely hope someone hears it and finds it helpful. Anyway, you're gonna be fine. Just remember that being cool, kind, honest, honorable, reliable, listening and showing up … they are all choices. If you want to be cool when you're 49, make the choice and set the example for someone to follow you. Treat kids the way you wanted to be treated when you were young. Listen to them when they offer you the privilege, because that means they trust you, and you have credibility with them. Be a mentor. Be supportive. Show up. Make a choice to be the person you need in the world, and never stop being that person. Start today, and when you're nearing 50 like I am, hopefully you'll remember who you needed right now, so you can be that person to someone else in the future. You're already asking the right questions and taking the first steps. I believe in you. You've got this.

Okay, if you've come this far, perhaps you'll follow me a little bit more, and read a thing I wrote about talking to students just a tiny bit older than you, which contains my core values.

Be honest. I’m a very old man, relative to y’all, and I’ve learned that the only currency that really matters in this world is the truth.

Be honorable. This dovetails with number one. You attract to yourself what you put into the world. Dishonorable people will take everything from you and leave you with nothing. Do your best to be a person they aren’t attracted to.

Work hard. I don’t mean, like, at your crappy minimum wage job you hate. I mean do the hard work that makes relationships work, that gets you ahead in your education, that gets you closer to your goals. Everything worth doing is hard. Everything worth doing requires hard work. Sooner or later, you’re going to run into something in your life that’s really hard, and you’ll want to give up, but it’s something you care so much about, you’ll do whatever you can to achieve it. It’s going to be hard, but it’s going to be less hard for someone who has practiced doing the hard things all along, than it is for someone who doesn’t know how to do the hard work because they’ve always chosen the easy path.

Always do your best. Even if you don’t get the result you wanted, doing your best — which will vary from day to day, moment to moment — is all you can ever do. We tell athletes to leave it all on the field. Whatever your version of that is, do it.

This is the most important one. This is the one I hope you’ll all hear and embrace. This is the one I hope you’ll share with your peers: Always be kind.”

When I read number 5, I looked up at them. I was so happy to see a classroom filled with teenagers who were all listening intently, even the ones I thought had tuned me out. “Here’s the thing about being Kind, versus being Nice,” I said. “I have interacted with lots of nice people who are incredibly unkind. Why is that? How do you choose to be nice but not kind?”

I pointed to my head. “This is where nice comes from,” I said. Then, I put my hand over my heart. “This is where kind comes from.” I put my hands out, like, “get it?”

There was this collective gasp of realization that I did not expect, at all. One kid said “Oh damn!” I saw a few kids look at each other like the trick had just been explained to them. They heard me. They really, really heard me. And it was amazing.

Okay, that's all. If you're still here, thank you for giving me so much of your time and attention. I hope you'll come back in a few years, and let me know how you're doing.

[oh-no-its-bird]

Team 7 gets zapped into the warring states era but it's like, team 7 either mid or directly after wave-arc.

They're babies!! They're untrained little babies!!! None of them have gotten that good good character development yet!! Kakashi is still actively desperately wanting to not teach them!! (tho he may have just gotten his "ahh fuck. I actually have to teach them, huh." Moment)

Sasuke looks like a carbon copy of a younger Izuna and it's going to cause problems

Naruto thankfully doesn't look much like an Uzumaki, but his tendency to very loudly introduce himself is going to get him into trouble

Going w my usual flavor of "the Hatake are a very small but very famous clan known for being fucking insane", people are seeing Kakashi and going "oh god oh fuck what are one of THOSE guys doing here oh sage preserve us please don't eat me" as Kakashi just kinda stands there like 🧍‍♂️

Sakura is the only one safe from not being fucked up and over her clan, good for her!

-> back to the Hatake thing.

The kids still know virtually nothing about their sensei so they're learning all this stuff about his clan and believing every word of it, from the believable rumors to the insane.

Sakura, in a hushed, worried voice: "Sensei,, is it true ur clan eats people??"

Kakashi, who's father died before he could tell him almost anything about their clan and genuinely doesn't know but at this point is starting to get a little worried about it:

Kakashi, who also never passes up the opportunity to fuck with someone: "only stupid little students who ask stupid little questions <3"

Sakura and Sasuke: *worriedly look at a confused Naruto*

For convoluted reasons they run into the Hatake of the era and after introductions they look at the kids and are like,

"Oh!!! Ok, so this is your kid, right? :)" pointing at Sakura.

And Kakashi is like. ",,no."

"Ohhh, ok. So this one is your kid then?" *points at Naruto*

",,,,,,,,no."

They look at him confused then nod at Sasuke. "So then that one's your kid, right?"

"None of them are my children."

*visibly disapproving / disbelieving side eye*

One big difference between this and the team ro time travel one is how much less trustworthy Kakashi comes off to literally everyone who looks at him.

He's a trained adult shinobi, probable bloodline thief (with no way to prove his innocence), and he has 3 children from 3 different clans (2 of which are indirectly enemies bc the Uzumaki is a Senju ally) (1 of which might have a direct relation to the Uchiha main house) and comes from an infamously volatile "wild clan" from another country entirely (Iron country)

He is NOT getting out of this with talk no jutsu bullshit. He has a target on his back from day 1 and it will take a minor miracle to get even a single person hear him out

Anyways uhh—

Saying Tajima and Butsuma are still alive but due to die in some months (till team 7 accidentally interfere and somehow accidentally save Tajima, maybe also Butsuma but I'm more biased towards Tajima so I'm thinking just him actually)

Kakashi sees baby Kagami and feels like he's been hit by a truck bc he looks just like a miniature Shisui and he has hang-ups about his "suicide"

Half-Hatake Tobirama is catching HEAT from Kakashi's antics. Why does one of ur cousins have a sharingan. Where did he get those children. Do you know anything about this. Is it your duty to help hunt him down bc hes your blood. If not yours then it's definatley the Hatake's, call them immediately and tell them to clean up their mess.

Bloodline theft is like THE ultimate no-no for all shinobi, especially in this era. To the point that even ancient enemies will sometimes temporarily set aside grudges to kill bloodline theives. Kakashi is so fucked, someone get him out of there

Mmmm there are like still bits and pieces of thoughts floating around in my head for this but I can feel myself getting distracted and want to get back to art fight so I'll leave it here for now

[theforesteldritch]

My mom's going back to university to study to become a therapist and her biopsych textbook is... interesting. It straight up states that XX chromosomes=female and XY=male, no variation or exceptions, forget about the existance of monosomy or trisomy of sex chromosomes I guess let alone AIS, Swyer syndrome or de la chappelle syndrome. Oh but wait it gets worse. It later brings up intersex variations as 'exceptions that prove the rule' of bullshit binary ideas about sex and brings up some case studies, one of which is about a woman with CAIS and then proceeds to invite a debate over if she should be told the truth and that she has CAIS. Im going to fucking rip a wall apart, at least my mom has me as the context to know that that's bullshit, but what about people that just take that at face value? People that want to go on to be psychologists or therapists? They're going to fuck any intersex patients up so bad if they think it's debatable if we should be told the truth about our intersex-ness, and not only that but think its ok to surgically 'treat' us without telling us or giving any semblance of informed consent.

I'm reminded of how I read about how one intersex woman had to break into her doctor's office to steal her medical records, because she knew something was up but even as an adult they refused to tell her. And how intersex people are far more likely to have poor physical and mental health, a good chunk of that probably attributable to the fact that shit like this happens and so we're probably more likely to avoid doctors and mental health professionals and not trust them, for pretty good reason. Some of the things I went through during diagnosis and right after and some of the things they did were traumatic and violating. But at least they fucking told me I have CAIS and gave me a say in my plan for treatment/monitoring when I pushed back. The bar is so low that despite how horrible and traumatic some of that and how I was treated was, to the point where I'm still processing certain things almost 3 years later, by other standards I got incredible care. Because at least they fucking told me. That is the bare fucking minimum. No, that's lower than the minimum, or should be, but we've been mistreated by the medical system so much that telling us we're intersex at all is a step in the direction of progress.

But people, supposedly mental health professionals and doctors, want to debate if we should be granted the basic decency of knowing.

[artaxlivs]

Were they kidding with this bullshit? Like, seriously? So many gates opening up to different dimensions now that there were too many for Supergirl to close and this? This is what they got? Fuck this. Seriously.

"Are you a virgin?" Mike asked like the total little dickhead he is.

"So what if I am? Aren't you? And the rest of your little friends?" Eddie sniped back at the rude little bastard but then, he blanched, "actually, don't answer that. I don't want to know."

Why did this have to be happening when Eddie was on a perimeter check?

Mike rolled his eyes like he couldn't believe how ridiculous Eddie was being, "Dumbass, we're children. Unicorns never go to innocent children in fairy tales. Because we're all innocent. They go to innocent adults. Virgins." He put far too much emphasis on the word because he is, as mentioned, a little dickhead.

"Listen, fuck you and the unicorn you rode in on. I'm not fucking innocent. I've done...things. Things I'm not gonna tell you about!" Eddie sputtered, crossing his arms and almost losing his precarious balance on the tree branch.

He needed to be careful because there was a unicorn circling underneath him. And not the beautiful, ethereal kind. It was beautiful, sure, but it had blood all over his muzzle and splattered across it's chest and on it's front hooves. Probably from the last virgin it had tracked down in god knows what dimension and trampled slash eaten to death. It's eyes were blazing red fire and it had fangs. Fangs. Fuck. That.

Eddie heard Steve sighing and then he flailed an arm from Eddie's tree branch to Robin and said, "It can't be trying to get you because you're a virgin, it's not going anywhere near Robin!"

The girl in question squeaked. Her ears and cheeks went bright red. All three of them turned to look at her.

"Wait, what? Was it you know who? From the...? You didn't tell me? When did you...?" Steve asked cryptically, shedding absolutely no light on who Buckley was knocking boots with.

"Yes after we met at the...place." Robin supplied lamely and then bared her teeth and said through them, "After. But before we went back in to fight Henry slash Vecna slash One." She shrugged and let out a hysterical sounding giggle. "It was...End of the World Sex. Just in case, you know?"

"Ohhhh I'm so proud of you!" And oddly, Steve really did sound proud. Which was weird. Eddie was pretty sure Robin was gay which meant the caginess was in reference to a girl but the fact that Steve was so supportive was a little suprising.

Without actively thinking about the repercussions, Eddie's mouth decided to test that theory, "Well damn, wish I'd have thought of that. Steve - want to deflower me so this unicorn leaves me alone?" The hysterical giggle Eddie let out rivaled Robin's.

Slowly Steve turned back to him but before he could reply, Mike scoffed, "You are his type. Skinny, big bushy hair, big eyes, you and Nancy both talk like everyone is just waiting to listen to you to speak." He rolled his eyes, "Annoying."

"Rude!" Eddie tilted his head thoughtfully, "You know what though? I'm fine with it. Nancy Wheeler is a badass and I want to be her when I grow up. Or when I get down from this tree." Eddie cringed, staring down as the unicorn stopped and looked up, one of it's flaming eyes bore into him. It neighed, shaking it's gorgeous mane but also splattering little droplets of blood everywhere.

Gross. So gross.

"Huh. Now that you mention it..." Robin stared up at Eddie thoughtfully, "I totally see it."

Steve just dragged his hand down his face and glared at the angry unicorn, "Okay, we need a real plan because Eddie isn't coordinated enough to have sex in a tree." He put his hands on his hips like a baseball mom wondering if she brought enough orange slices and Shastas for the whole team. "Do we know any other adult virgins to lure this one away?"

Mike snorted, "Those are probably more rare than the unicorn.'

Eddie flipped him off, "You're rolling at disadvantage on all charisma and persuasion checks for the rest of time."

"We'll have to find a new DM when the unicorn gores you anyway," Mike shrugged. "Whatever."

Then he wandered off. Just walked away, like Eddie wasn't two feet away from being mauled by a feral beast who's name was probably Glitter Sparkle or some shit. What a dickhead.

Looking away from the unicorn, Eddie watched Robin wave Steve over and whisper to him. They had a hushed conversation for several minutes while Eddie yelled things like, "Wanna share with the class?" and "Good friends don't make shitty plans in secret!" But they ignored him. Bastards.

Until Steve turned to the tree and asked, "By 'things' what do you mean?"

What?

"Harrington, what the hell are you talking about?"

"You said you've done 'things' but not had sex. What things?" Steve brushed a hand through his miraculously still perfect hair, and sighed, obviously frustrated, "We're trying to figure out what the unicorn considers virginity. Robin's never..." He petered off and glanced back at her and then over at Mike who was half way down the block with his radio out, sitting on a bench with his back to them, probably telling everyone that Eddie still had his V card. Traitor.

He was too far away for them to hear his conversation so he was probably too far for theirs.

Robin cleared her throat. "I've never had, you know, penetrative sex. Just...um...uh...third base!" She squeaked again and then covered her face with her hands.

"You're being extremely weird about sex talk while a blood covered unicorn is stalking me like a jungle cat!" Eddie informed her. "Oral. Just say oral sex, you weirdo!"

"Ok fine!" She shouted, "I've given and reciprocated oral sex! Jesus." Then she crossed her arms and grumbled under her breath, tapping one foot on the grass.

Eddie couldn't help it. He laughed with glee. "Was she cute?"

Robin sputtered, mouth dropping in shock.

What? Did she think she was a subtle lesbian? Because she wasn't. Not at all. Her high tops had boobs drawn on them like some twelve year old boy just hitting puberty. He rolled his eyes.

Steve looked up at Eddie then. His eyebrows were arched in that way they get when he's thinking up a plan. They're not always good plans but he carries them out and everyone usually lives so, Eddie could do worse. "Well - Big Boy?" Steve's lips twitched in a smile at using Eddie's nickname for him. "I'm guessing when you said you've done 'things,' you were lying?"

"Yeah, duh." Eddie retorted, snapping in his irritation and mounting fear. Mounting, ha. Like a horse and like sex. Mounting. He bit his lip to contain the very poorly timed giggle.

Robin rolled her eyes, grabbed Steve's arm and gave him a severe 'be careful' look and then hustled over to where Mike was sitting. When Steve tucked his bat into his backpack and started to creep around the tree, he realized she was giving them privacy. Holy shit.

The unicorn didn't even acknowledge Steve's presence as he skirted around it and climbed the tree, grunting and complaining under his breath how nobody better call him the Virginsitter because he swears to God. Then the rest of his grumbling got lost, buried under the sound of Eddie's heart pounding in his ears.

Holy shit.

And that's how Eddie lost his mythically constructed virginity in a tree to Steve Harrington who was apparently bisexual and very, very good at blowjobs.

Neither of them even noticed which way the unicorn went.

[areyouwell]

Autophobia

Noun: An extreme and irrational fear of being alone. Children or adults with this condition often suffer from severe panic attacks at the thought of being completely alone.

Ch.5.5

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

Paring: Logan Howlett x F!Mutant!Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of a depressive spiral, atypical methods of self-harm, severe mental breakdown

Word Count: 6.8k

A/N: just a little follow-up chapter cuz if i put this all in one it would have been almost 20k words. let's not talk about how my mini-chapters are over 6k words i'm fluent in yappanese let me monologue

Taglist: @badbishsblog @reidsworld @idioticstar @toogaytofunctiondangit @ghostyv @wolviesgirl @over-bi-the-wayside @justice4billiam @holyhumorliteraturelight @cxptainbuck

The last twenty-four hours had been a complete blur. Numbly going through the motions of packing a rucksack, letting your body take you to where you needed to go whilst your mind was stuck in a loop. Eighty years. Eighty years. That’s how long you were kept from the world. That’s how long you’d been fed lies and bullshit. Eighty fucking years. And everything about your life, about who you are, what you’d been through, was in that venomous folder you couldn’t bring yourself to open. Nobody looked at you the same way. Ororo could barely stand to be in your presence, having to leave every time you entered the room. Charles kept looking at you with fucking sympathy and you wanted to knock his bald head clean off his shoulders. Scott kept apologising every time he passed you in the hallway, saying he didn’t know and would have done things differently if he had. Kurt and Hank barely knew what the fuck was going on and you hadn’t seen Jean since before the raid. 

And then there was Logan. Who kept almost tiptoeing around you, asking if you were alright every five fucking seconds, asking if you needed anything or if you wanted him to do something. Honestly, you wanted him to shut the fuck up. You wanted them all to shut the fuck up. You hadn’t processed anything. Hadn’t been allowed to process anything. After you woke up, you’d explained to those in the med-bay what Dr.Kremlin –or whatever his stupid fucking name was– had told you. Charles filled in the gaps, and you were given all of thirty seconds before you were taken upstairs to pack a bag and to meet Logan in the garage. You felt nothing as you swung your rucksack in the backseat of the beaten pickup truck, clambering into the passenger’s side and falling into dead silence. You didn’t even get to say goodbye. Not to Jubilee, not to little Artie. Not even to Kitty. 

At least your trip away made more sense now. Charles wanted you out of the mansion so he could monitor those neurotransmitters from the supposed environmental research facility without you catching wind of anything. Not that you’d know anyway, but maybe he thought it was safer if you didn’t know. What you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you, right?

How ironic did that feel?

You’d been driving for around four hours in complete silence, your head resting against the slightly smudged window, eyes trained on the outside world as it blurred past, a kaleidoscope of greens, browns and greys. Feet perched on your seat, your arms tucked atop your knees as you subconsciously made yourself as small as possible. You didn’t know how long left you had of the drive, and honestly, you didn’t care. He could keep driving forever and it wouldn’t matter to you. 

“Y’alright?” Logan broke the long silence a little tentatively, his voice hushed as if not to disturb you. You found it vaguely amusing. He could shout at the top of his lungs and it wouldn’t disturb you. Not at the moment. You didn’t care. Didn’t even care to respond. It was a stupid fucking question anyway. You’d felt like this only once before. At least, only one time you could remember, if that was even real. And it was the days that followed after Jade’s death. A bus could have hit you and you wouldn’t have been able to find it in yourself to care. 

Logan sighed through his nose. Stealing a glance at your huddled form, staring unblinking out the window, he went to rest his hand on your shoulder but thought better of it as you tensed. Seeing you like this, so utterly devoid of emotion, was almost jarring. He was used to seeing your smile and hearing your laugh. Fuck, even when you lost control and tried to kill him was better than this. At least he could smell the fear on you. But he couldn’t smell anything right now. Just the oil of the engine and dust of the seats. You’d faded. Not just your personality or your mental state, but everything about you had faded. Suppressed. This was nothing like when you lost control. He had an idea of how to bring you back then. But this?

He was way out of his depth. 

“Talk to me,” he urged quietly, and he thought his pleas had fallen on deaf ears until you finally raised your head, turning to look at him blankly.

“About what?” Though your voice was completely flat, he was still glad to hear it. If he could get a response out of you, then perhaps he could bring you back after all. If he could just get you to talk to him…

“Anythin’. How you’re feelin’. What you’re thinkin’. We have a long ways to go yet.”

Your shrug wasn’t exactly what he was looking for. “So? You’ve never had a problem with silence before.” It was all he was going to get out of you before you returned to leaning against the window, your vacant eyes falling to watch the grey skies beyond. Suffocating quiet consumed the truck once again, only the hum of the wheels against the tarmac acted as a symphony for your thoughts. “Ya know what’s fucked?”

Logan almost jumped as you talked again, not expecting you to continue the conversation. Though he couldn’t say he wasn’t glad. “I don’t even know what’s real. If it was all a simulation… I don’t even know if this is real. If you’re real. Or just another sick twisted plot produced to make me believe I’m living a life that I’m not.” It was a thought that had plagued your mind since the raid. If everything in your past had been a lie, how did you know any of this wasn’t just more bullshit spun to widen the web?

Stretching out his hand, this time he didn’t hesitate to pry your own from your folded arms, clasping your knuckles in his palm. “‘M real, sweetheart. This is real. We’re real.” He held his breath, waiting for you to pull away from his touch, but you didn’t. Instead, you raised your head from the window again, offering him a small smile that didn’t even come close to reaching your eyes. He squeezed your hand and found a kernel of hope kindle in his heart as you weakly squeezed back. You’d be okay. He’d make certain of it. It didn’t matter how long it took, or what he’d have to do. He wouldn’t stop until you were okay. “Get some rest, we’ll be on the road for a while.” He pulled your hand up to his face, pressing a light kiss against the front of your wrist where the scars from your past fed into the present, before interlacing his fingers with yours. 

“Logan?” your voice was barely audible, timid in a way that had him fighting the urge to pull over, gather you in his arms and hold you until all of this blew over and you could be safe again.

“Mmm?” was all he could say instead, always ready to listen.

“You–” you paused, finding the words heavy in your throat and stuck on your tongue. You hated feeling like this. Feeling the need to be reassured. Hated coming across as insecure or needy, but just this once, you needed to know. “You’re not gonna leave, right?”

Wordlessly, Logan flattened your hand over the centre of his chest, and you felt his heartbeat beneath your fingers. “Not whilst this is still beating.” 

It was the first emotion you’d felt since waking up, and you couldn’t stop a silent tear slide down your cheek. His devotion to you incarnate, beating beneath your palm. You knew the weight of his words, and felt their meaning in your soul. He wasn’t going to leave you. Not now. Not ever. And it was one of your fears put to rest, knowing that he wasn’t one for lying. 

“Okay.” You responded quietly, your free arm shifting to hug your knees whilst he returned your other, not letting go of your hand. And you found you didn’t want him to. You were afraid earlier that any kind of touch would send you into a spiral, but now he held your hand in yours, you never wanted him to let go. 

“Sleep, firefly. I’ll wake you when we get there.” He hushed, and you nodded, curling up against the humming door, letting the soft vibrations of the truck lull you to sleep. 

True to his word, a slight shake to your shoulder had you jolting awake, eyes flying open, heart racing as you tried your best to gauge your surroundings as quickly as you could. 

“‘S okay,” Logan soothed, and your breathing calmed slightly, whatever dreams had been haunting your unconscious mind faded into nothing with each swipe of his thumb against your shoulder. “We’re here.”

Your eyes scanned the woods beyond the windscreen as he opened his door, the hinges squeaking with age. It was dark out, meaning you’d been on the road for at least eight hours and four of those you’d been asleep for. There was the distinct smell of cigarette smoke clinging to the upholstery of the seats, and you looked down at the source, a burnt-out cigar lay discarded in the central unit, brown paper blackened at the roach. 

The door to your right opened and Logan offered you his hand. It wasn’t that you needed help, and you really fucking hoped he knew that, but you took it simply as an excuse to touch him as you stepped out of the truck, the smell of pine needles hitting you almost instantly as your feet touched soft earth. Wherever he’d taken you, this was certainly off-grid. It was so peaceful here. To the point where you’d surpassed tranquillity and landed right back into unease. It was too peaceful here. 

“Where are we?” You asked as Logan retrieved both rucksacks from the back seat, mindful not to slam the door shut before locking up the truck. Swinging both backs across each of his shoulders, he took your hand again, leading you around the hood of the truck and you finally saw your new halls of residence. 

A sizeable pinewood log cabin. Dark on the inside, but it looked homely enough. A small pair of antlers adorned the front door, piles of firewood stacked neatly beneath little shelters around to the left. You could imagine this as a forest getaway for some rich family who owned several yachts and a sports car. But when Logan produced a thick iron key from his pocket, you blinked. “Is this yours?” 

It was the most emotion he’d heard from you since he’d started driving eight hours ago, your words delicately laced with surprise. He smiled back over his shoulder. “Belonged to an old friend, left it to me when he passed.” He wasn’t ready to launch into that whole story, not yet. You had enough to deal with without him banging on about his own past. Sliding the key into the lock, he turned it anti-clockwise until the iron gave way, giving the door a gentle shove as it swung open. It definitely needed doing up, but he was happy to do that himself. “Home sweet home,” he murmured, vaguely hoping all the electrics still worked as he flicked the light switch.

The cabin was illuminated in a soft orange glow, the faux candles on the walls giving the same ambience as torch flame. The interior was cosier than you could possibly have imagined. A comfy-looking, though slightly faded brown sofa faced a broad hearth with yet another stack of kindling piled next to it, a red and green tartan print blanket draped over the back of the sofa. Logan shrugged off his jacket, hanging it on one of the multiple cast iron coat pegs lining the wall by the door, setting the rucksacks down next to the dark wood dining table. There were no arches or doorways that you could see, an open floor plan joining the small, rural kitchen area to the lounge.

A set of stairs led up to another floor behind the hearth, various antlers and horns of different woodland animals hung on almost every available wall, as well as a TV, which you weren’t expecting. Every cupboard looked identical, even the fridge, learning which one it was due to Logan immediately grabbing out two bottles of larger for you both. 

You smiled as you inhaled, and recognised the distinctive amalgamation of smells. It was him. Pure, unfiltered Logan. 

Crossing to one of the windows, you ran your fingers over the corrugated radiator, noticing the various blankets and pillows set up on the windowsill looking out into the dark green woodland beyond, brown woollen tassels hanging a little too close to the heater, to the point where you tucked them in. Staring out into the forest, you held your arm tightly until Logan’s arm wrapped around your shoulder, tucking you into his side and handing you the second bottle of golden liquid. 

“What’ya think?” He asked, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, and you moved your hand from your arm to hold his wrist against your shoulder. 

“It’s very you.” You offered as much mischief as you could muster, which wasn’t much considering your circumstances, and unfortunately resulted in a confused raise of his brow. 

“That’s a good thing, right?”

You huffed an exhausted chuckle, pressing your head into the space between his shoulder and chest. “Yeah. It’s a good thing.” You breathed, before raising the bottle to your lips and taking a long sip of the icy cold beverage. He held you in silence, offering to be whatever you needed him to be, and for right now, you just needed him close to you. You didn’t know what had happened in the past, and you didn’t know what was going to happen. You couldn’t hide forever, and there would come a day where you would have to face the contents of that folder. But it was enough for now just knowing you weren’t alone, and when that time came, you wouldn’t be alone. 

“There’s a bathroom down the hall or you can use the ensuite upstairs if you wanna freshen up. I can get started on makin’ dinner, should have some preservatives lyin’ around somewhere.” He looked towards the cupboards and you wished you had the energy or emotional bank to tease him properly about his cooking. But you didn’t need to, he looked back at your face of slight mock disbelief, a small, almost bashful smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “I’ve picked up a few things over the last couple months.” 

He didn’t resist as you weakly shoved at him, his smile widening as you showed small signs of your old self before your eyes took on that faraway look again and you retreated back into your protective shell. He knew it was a defence mechanism, he’d seen it in the kids now and then. When things got overwhelming or something went wrong, they’d shut themselves away behind emotional walls, appearing almost hollow before he’d sit them down and pry their emotions out one thread at a time. It nearly always resulted in them sobbing their eyes out, but it was a tried and true method.

One he was planning on using on you when he felt the time was right. You couldn’t shut yourself away forever. He wouldn’t let you, for one. There was no future where your past wins over and you remain this way. Even if it resulted in you drowning the cabin in shadow as you lost control, he didn’t care. In this state, any emotion is a good emotion. 

Setting down your bottle, you clung to his wrist for as long as you could before the increasing distance forced you to let go to retrieve your rucksack. You’d packed essentials, being under a strict time limit. A few spare pairs of clothes, toothbrush and toothpaste, cleanser, moisturiser, a Swiss army knife and as much underwear as you could stuff in the little space that remained at the top. You swing the bag over your shoulder, heading to the stairs before Logan caught your forearm.

“Shout if you need anything. I’ll be right here, ‘kay?” He looked so sincere, so serious it almost broke you. The first time he’d said those words to you, you’d laughed them off, teasing him for being overprotective. You couldn’t find the energy to do the same now, thinking back to how things had changed so much in the last day or so. Well, since you returned, really. You simply nodded in response, attempting to offer him a smile that could ease his worries but clearly failing miserably as his brows pinched in concern.

You had nothing left to give him, your emotional reservoir completely drained. So you simply turned away to head up the stairs, guilt gnawing at your chest. You didn’t want him to worry about you. Fuck, you hated it when he worried about you. Even about mundane things, you’d wave off his concerns. But you knew this was an issue that couldn’t be solved by telling him to ‘take his concerns elsewhere’ because where else would he go? You’d pried him away from his home, from his friends and teammates because he had some twisted obligation towards you. It was selfish of you to ask if he was going to leave. You’d all but trapped him into staying by asking that very question. He was too good of a man to say no, he was going to dump you off and dip. 

You hated it. Hated how much he was giving up for you. You didn’t deserve any of this, and he certainly deserved so much more. A wall erupted in your mind, locking your guilt away with everything else you were supposed to be feeling at the moment, your heart once again emptying of the hurt it had felt, leaving you with blissful numbness.

Cresting the top of the stairs, you were faced with one of the homeliest scenes in the house. A large four-poster bed piled high with various pillows, cushions and blankets stood against the back wall, yet another window seat snuggled against the window straight ahead of you, overlooking the opposite side of the forest. Two hunting rifles, one barrel crossed over the other, hung triumphantly above the headboard, yet another set of antlers positioned between the two guns, larger than the other sets you’d seen yet. You couldn’t imagine the choice of decor was Logan’s idea, at least you vaguely hoped it wasn’t, but it made you wonder who this place originally belonged to. 

Your shoulder went limp as you carelessly dropped your bag to the floor at the foot of the bed, turning to your left to see the door to the bathroom slightly ajar. Crossing over the thick rug on the floor, you pulled the door open, eyes widening in slight surprise. It was a lot bigger than you’d expected for an ensuite. A large bathtub took up most of the space, the shower standing right next to it. You were glad they weren’t one and the same, for some reason you had a vendetta against bathtubs that doubled up as a shower. Maybe the reason lay in that fucking folder, who knows?

Stripping yourself of your sweaty clothes, you cracked the window open, allowing fresh air to circulate around the room before fiddling with the taps and switches of the electric shower. You wondered how often Logan visited, considering how well kept the place was, and how well everything still worked. Steam rolled from the shower into the rest of the bathroom as you stepped beneath the stream, your skin tingling with the heat. It was a pleasant sensation, to feel something other than all-consuming guilt, sinking despondency or nothing at all. You cranked up the dial on the temperature, hissing slightly as the water increased from warm to scalding, staining your skin red raw. 

The feeling was addictive, turning ever so often to get that kick of pain on whichever side of your body wasn’t beneath the volcanic stream, inhaling as the pain drowned every other sensation in your chest and head. There was no room for anything else other than the burning against your flesh. You only wished you could turn the dial further, but it seemed you’d reached the maximum. 

It could have been anywhere between a few minutes and twenty years before Logan came up to check on you, you’d lost complete track of time. There was a soft knock at the door, a vague call of your name you barely heard and partially ignored in favour of getting lost in the heat. At what point you dropped to the floor, knees hugged against your chest, you couldn’t recall, eyes too focused on the pattern of the droplets against the tiled floor to look up as he entered.

“Christ it’s like a sauna in here, can’t fuckin’ see anyth–” He stopped instantly as he saw you huddled on the floor in the same position you’d spent a good portion of the journey in. But that wasn’t what scared him. It was the angry red of your skin that had alarm bells ringing loudly in his head. He rolled up the sleeve of his flannel shirt, preparing to plunge his hand through the cascading fall to switch the power off. But the moment his skin came in contact with the water, he hissed loudly. “Fuck! ‘S fuckin’ scalding sweetheart.” You didn’t move. Didn’t even look as if you’d noticed him. Panic surged in his veins, gritting his teeth tightly as he endured the searing burn of the lava stream to twist the handle for power, taking a breath as the waterfall eased from a deluge to mere droplets. 

Only then did you look up, as if snapped from a daze. He crouched before you as you blinked at him, remembering where you were and what you were doing. However, what you should say in this moment never came to you, only able to stare straight ahead at him, his pinched brows and wide-eyed concern only fuelling the self-loathing in your gut. You hated the way he touched you so gently as if you deserved to be touched like that. You despised the way he draped a large, fluffy towel around your shoulders as if you’d done anything to warrant such comforts. 

And you couldn’t stand the way he hooked his arms beneath your knees and carried you from the bathroom, all without a single word. And you loathed how your body reacted, leaning into his touches like you had any right to comfort. You’d all but dragged him away from the life he’d built for himself. Dragged him away from people like Marie and Bobby. Fuck, you couldn’t even think about them right now. You’d stolen one of Marie’s best friends from her, how could you ever go back there now?

Would you ever go back there now? You hadn’t even thought about it. Most likely not. Why would they let you? You’d killed a team member, been sent away for two years, lost control of your mutation, tried to kill not only another team member but the man you love, and have been lying to everyone you’d ever met because the life you thought you’d lived never fucking existed and it turns out you were over eighty fucking years old. Scott was right. 

He should have killed you years ago.

“Lemme grab some aloe gel…” you’d been so lost in your head you hadn’t even noticed Logan removing the towel from your shoulders to inspect the raging raw burns on your back and arms. You barked a harsh, joyless laugh.

“Why? What does it matter?” you asked savagely, and Logan turned from where he stood near the bathroom doorway, slowly looking at you in suspicious bewilderment. “I mean, I can just heal, so who cares? I’ll just disappear into shadow and come back good as new, so don’t bother.” You shrugged, feeling burning hatred bubble in your gut. “That is, if I come back out at all, of course. Because that threat still hangs over my head every fucking day.” The shadows writhed with your growing fury, only furthering your tirade of self-deprecation. “And hey, would ya look at that, my mutation only fucking works when I’m insanely pissed off. And I lose control completely when I’m terrified, my only fucking instinct being to survive. How fucked up is that?” You continued, laughing bitterly as you stood from the bed. “Probably some result of whatever the hell is recorded in that file. Eighty years, by the way. Eighty fucking years. Here I was, the fucking asshole who thought she was thirty-two. Imagine that?” Your fingers found your scalp, scratching desperately at the roots of your hair as if to claw your way into your own mind and pry out your memories. “And you just seem to be fucking fine with everything!”

Logan didn’t so much as flinch as you directed your inferno of rage toward him. Sure, his heart shattered with your every word, but not because they hurt him.

“I’ve lied to you. For the past couple of months, I’ve straight-up been lying to your face. About everything! I’ve dragged you away from your friends, from your family, all because I manipulated you into thinking you owed me fucking anything. All those bullshit sob stories are lies. None of them even happened. And ya know what? I can’t even say if that’s true or not because I don’t fucking know.” You gestured to your surroundings wildly, laughing manically as the shadows whipped out from the walls like vines. You always knew the day would come when you completely lost your mind. 

“I killed the woman I loved because I couldn’t control myself. I tried my fucking damnest to kill you too, because it seems I just fucking bleed toxicity. And I don’t even know how twisted that makes you for still being here. For still caring. It’s fucking pathetic. I tried to fucking kill you, and all I can see is your ridiculous, unwavering sense of devotion. Do you know how fucked up that makes you? How little must your self-worth be that you’re still here? That is if this isn’t just another simulation created to test my mental durability because who fucking knows at this point? I sure as shit don’t. And ya know what’s worse? No matter what happens, I still have to read that fucking folder. Because we sure as hell can’t hide out here forever, and the only way I can even begin to understand anything is the one thing I can’t bring myself to do.

“So instead, instead I’ll just make everyone suffer along with me. Strength in numbers, right? I’ll just force you to isolate yourself away instead of getting the fuck on with it and reading that fucking file. Nah, I’d rather torture the people I care about, because that’s just what happens. That’s what always fucking happens. And I can’t seem to stop,” your hands returned to your hair as you slowed down, squeezing the sides of your head as if to silence your mind. “It never seems to stop. It’s all just so fucking loud. I just want it to stop… I just want everything to stop…” You sank to the floor, drawing your knees up to your chest, your back pressed against the end of the bed. “I’m so tired, Logan. I’m so fucking tired.” Your voice faded to a whisper as you screwed your eyes shut, your mind still a roaring tornado of anguish and heartbreak. You didn’t want to hurt him. Fuck, that was the last thing you wanted to do, but you did it in a desperate bid to keep him safe. Maybe, if you sank enough knives into his chest, he’d walk away. The shadows receded into their natural places as you withdrew back behind the walls inside your head. 

Logan thought he’d seen vulnerability before, both in you and in others. But the way you looked now, naked, trembling on the floor, your head tucked behind your knees, hands clawing at your own hair… 

Nothing could have prepared him for that. 

He said nothing, silently crossing the floor to kneel next to you. Softly, he removed your nails from your hair, setting your arms limp by your side as he cupped either side of your jaw, raising your head to look at him. Tears flowed freely from your eyes as you desperately searched his face. What for, he didn’t know, but he let you look. He let you hunt in the corners of his brows, digging around the slope of his nose, finally returning to his eyes. What you found, or rather didn’t find, pulled a sob from your chest, and he tucked your face beneath his chin. Wrapping his arms around your naked body, he just held you as stuttered sob after stuttered sob wracked your body.

Grief was a funny old thing. Always lurking around the corner, rearing its bittersweet head when you least expected it. You cried. You cried for Jade. You cried for Rowan. You cried for the other members of NLMO. You cried for Kitty, and her guilt for hating you. You cried for Ororo, having been burdened with the knowledge not even you wanted to know about yourself. 

You cried for Logan. Holy shit did you cry for Logan. You didn’t want this for him. Only the previous morning was he talking about being a normal couple and doing ‘normal couple things’, and now he was stuck in a relationship with a woman who didn’t even know who she was. Who didn’t know what parts of her were real and what parts were fabricated? Your voice scratched your throat raw, every breath like rusty nails in your lungs as you sobbed harder than you ever remember in your life, both real and fake. 

And he held you through all of it, gently whispering sweet nothings against your damp, tangled hair, soothing soft caresses against your bare skin with his calloused hands, fingertips grazing every scar he could reach, from the healed burn on your calf to the serrated needle in your neck. His hatred for the Kreva’s only grew with each newly discovered scar on your body, even as your full-bodied cries quietened to mere hiccups of despair. 

Tentatively he drew your head away from his damp neck, using his thumb to wipe away the salty lines carved down one side of your face, and using his little finger for the other. “C’mon firefly, let’s get you changed. Gotta do somethin’ ‘bout these burns too…” 

You shook your head with teary incredulity. “I don’t understand… why are you still doing this? Why do you still care? After everything I've just said. After everything I’ve done… why?”

“Because I love you.”

Your mind fell completely silent as you stared up at him in utter, petrified shock. “What…?” you managed to whisper, to his slight knowing smile.

“I love you.”

You shook your head again, though this time you looked horrified. “You’re insane.”

Logan nodded as if he already knew this. Of course, he was insane. But not simply because he loved you. He was insane because if anything happened to you, nothing and nowhere would be safe from him. He would walk through hell itself to get you back, and make as many deals with as many devils as he needed to. What was insane was the lengths he would go through to protect you. 

“Who am I, Logan? You read the folder, you’ve seen everything… how can you love what’s in there? Who am I?” You almost pleaded with him, and he caught the sides of your neck in his palms. 

“‘M gonna need you to listen real close, okay? That folder doesn’t define you. You are who you are in spite of what’s in that folder. I didn’t read all of it… I– I don’t know if I can. But from the reports I did see, you’re still you. You were almost killed because you stepped between your brother and four bullets to the chest, and I’ll be fuckin’ damned if I said you wouldn’t do that with who you are now. What you endured is fuckin’ harrowing, I’ll be honest. There were very few happy moments from what I saw, and fuck, if you don’t you deserve to be happy, none of the rest of us do.

“I don’t know if I’d read that entire folder if you gave the rest of my life, which I’m thinkin’ is a real long time. But if that’s how long it takes for you to read it, I’ll gladly spend the rest of my days with you. I don’t give a shit where we are. At the school, in this cabin, hell, we could be squatting under a bridge for all I care. I’m tired of being too damn scared of saying I love you. Because I fuckin’ do. And you’re crazy if you think any of this changes a goddamn thing about how I feel.”

It was your turn to be rendered completely speechless. Somehow, in one fell swoop, he’d put the fears that hovered around your head concerning him to rest. The terror that he was going to leave you, the fear that you weren’t good enough, that you didn’t deserve him melted away as you peered into his hazel eyes shining with such conviction you wanted to sob into his arms all over again. 

“You love me?” you asked a little diffidently, and Logan rolled his eyes with a small smile lifting the corner of his mouth. 

“It wasn’t obvious? I love you. And before you ask; yes. This is real.” you blew out a breath as he answered your question before you’d even had a chance. How did he know you so well? His hands moved from either side of your neck to your waist, helping you back onto your feet. You continued staring at him in awestruck adoration, still unable to quite believe what he’d said. He loved you. You don’t know why it came as such a shock, he’d shown you almost every day since you danced in the kitchen. Probably before that, in the way, he’d helped redesign your room. In the care he’d taken to learn about your mutation and adapt your new living situation accordingly before he even met you. Before he even believed you existed.

You followed almost blindly as he led you back into the bathroom, opening the cabinet behind the mirror and retrieving what he went to get before you exploded in front of him. Turning you around, he swiped your hair to one side, and you winced slightly at the cooling balm touching your shoulders, his hands gently kneading at the stiff muscles. The aloe took almost instant effect, soothing the angry burns left behind by your shower.

He worked in comfortable silence, snapping the lid back of the bottle and placing it back on the shelf when he was done. His fingertips grazed up and down your slickened arm, before placing both hands back on your shoulders and guiding you back out the bathroom to sit atop the bed. 

“I love you, too.”

Logan froze. Though it seemingly came out of nowhere, you’d said it like you’d wanted to say it for a long, long time. In the moment, he didn’t think he’d cared all that much that you hadn’t said it back to him, but hearing you say those words now, those words he’d been yearning to hear since he first set eyes on you and you teased him for something or other filled him with a warm sense of belonging. 

You smiled and his heart stopped as your eyes shone along with it. How did he get so damn lucky?

Bending at the waist, he tilted your head up with a finger beneath your chin, his other hand braced against your cheek as he moulded his lips against your own, finding an instant, slow rhythm. And if he hadn’t known you were utterly exhausted, he’d have you there and then, gasping and whimpering on his cock. But he could tell by the way you kissed him back, you were shattered. Not that he was in any rush. From the looks of things, it seemed like the two of you would be hiding away for some time.

Pulling away a fraction, Logan reached for the clothes he’d pulled out for you earlier from his closet before he interrupted your shower. It wasn’t anything spectacular, just a pair of incredibly loose sweatpants and a faded t-shirt of his. He slipped the shirt over your head, biting back a smile as it all but hung off your shoulders, and you shot him a flat look. 

“I have my own clothes, ya know?” You pretended you were reluctant, though showed no signs of hesitation when he opened the waistband of the sweatpants for you to step into, pulling the drawstring tight around your waist. 

“I know.” Was all he responded, and you snorted a small laugh as he stepped back, almost to admire his work. You were positively drowning in fabric, the short sleeves of the t-shirt reaching your elbows, sweats hanging low off your hips. But it was comfy and smelt like him, so honestly it didn’t matter to you. “C’mon, I made soup.” He outstretched his hand toward you for you to take, which you did with a suspicious raise of your brow. 

“You had fresh ingredients for soup?” You asked, following behind him as he led you back down the stairs, the crackling of the lit hearth filling you with a sense of cosy tranquillity you never expected to feel again, not after everything that had happened.

“A’ight so I found a couple cans of soup and heated 'em up, same difference.” As if being parted from you robbed him of breath, Logan brought you back into his arms, feeling his chest loosen when you didn’t resist the way he walked you over to the gas stove.

“I’m going to ignore that,” you instinctively took the wooden spoon from the rack of utensils to the right of the backsplash, stirring the bubbling pot and grimacing slightly as you felt the bottom of the pan. Definitely burnt. Though you couldn’t exactly blame that on him. He’d been a little preoccupied with making sure you didn’t plunge the cabin into suffocating shadow. “A gas stove in a wooden cabin is a bold choice.” You mentioned absently, turning the dial for the gas down and watching as the blue flame lessened beneath the iron pan. Logan set his chin atop your head, arms still circling your waist.

“Not my decision. Previous guy’s choice.” he offered as a means of explanation, and you shrugged in acceptance. Much like you thought with most of the decor in the cabin, whilst there were a few things you’d noticed that you were sure were his, the rest you couldn’t see being his interior design choices. Not that Logan had much interior design, even his room at the mansion was pretty barren. 

Reaching above you, Logan pulled open one of the cupboards, keeping one of his arms still wrapped around your middle, and started rifling through the contents. There was a slight clatter of boxes before he pulled one of them out, setting it down on the counter. You eyed it curiously, a warm smile tugging at your lips as you read the italic cursive on the front of the box. 

Honey and Chamomile tea. You dropped your head back against his chest, heart almost exploding when he left briefly to retrieve two mugs, one of them you knew like the back of his hand. 

When the fuck had he found the time to grab your favourite mug? He stood next to you, gas clicking rhythmically as he went to light a second burner, the huff of ignition breaking you from your stare of wonder and watching as he placed the black kettle atop the flame. It was rudimentary, old school but you kind of liked it. It suited him. 

Logan’s heart and eyes softened as he looked down at the top of your head resting against his bicep, not bothering to fight the urge to press a kiss to your hair. 

“I love you.” You whispered, and the words struck him like a bolt of lightning, still completely unused to both saying and hearing them. He let the warmth in his chest wash over him, let the encompassing adoration flood his veins and fill his heart. He couldn’t be by your side in the past, couldn’t save you from the horrors you’d endured. But he was going to make damn sure he was there for your future, whether you’d stayed in the cabin or managed to return to the mansion, he’d ensure he was by your side for all of it. 

Never again would you face these things alone. 

“I love you, too.”

[cosmicanakin]

𝐍𝐎 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃 ⟢ | vinnie hacker.

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⟣ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. vinnie hacker x female reader.

⟣ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. what began as a casual physical arrangement between two best friends soon blossomed into deeper feelings that neither were prepared to face without turbulence and confusion along the way.

⟣ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). angst ┊ hurt comfort ┊ friends with benefit trope ┊ smut ┊ strong language ┊ anxiety ┊ miscommunication ┊no use of y/n.

kari's corner ⟢ ݁⋆ angsty fwb ft. vinnie? count me tf in. it's my first time writing this trope so crossing my fingers i didn't fucking butcher it.

you wake up with warmth behind you and an arm slung gently over your waist. looking at the time on your phone, you see it’s nearly noon. turning, you find vinnie still sleeping soundly, his face soft and serene.

a smile tugs at your lips as you watch him. he looks so peaceful. his curls fall messily over his forehead in a way that makes your stomach flip. you want nothing more than to lean in and place a gentle kiss on his lips, but you stop yourself.

that's what got you into this mess in the first place. kissing led to more… and more led to feelings. feelings you can't afford to have, not when this was supposed to be casual between you. what started as a friends with benefits situation has spiraled, at least for you, into something much deeper.

but vinnie made it clear from the beginning - no strings attached. and you agreed, not realizing your heart had plans of its own. now you find yourself falling helplessly for your best friend and you need to get yourself out before it’s too late. before you get hurt.

carefully, so as not to wake him, you slip out of bed and get dressed. once you're out the door, you shoot vinnie a text saying you had an early shift at work. it's not entirely a lie - you did pick up an extra shift today in hopes of keeping busy and your mind off of him.

the next few days, you do everything you can to avoid vinnie. you let his calls go to voicemail and take hours to reply to his texts. when he asks to hang out, you come up with excuses - you're tired, have plans, are busy with work. the hurt and confusion in his messages are painfully obvious, but you reason that it's better this way.

it has to end, and distancing yourself is the only way you'll be able to get over him. at least, that's what you keep telling yourself as you try to ignore the ache in your chest that grows more piercing each day without him.

one night, as you're lounging alone watching a movie, your phone rings. vinnie's photo flashes on your screen and you debate not answering, but curiosity gets the better of you.

"hello?"

"hey." his voice is tight. "we need to talk. i'm five minutes away."

before you could even protest, he hung up. your palms start to sweat as you realize there's no getting out of this. ten minutes later, there's a knock at your door.

you pull it open to find vinnie standing there, hands tucked into his jean pockets as he scowls down at the floor. he looks up at you, eyes softening when they meet yours. "can i come in?"

nodding mutely, you step aside to let him enter. he paces into your small living room as you close the door behind him. "so," he starts, turning to face you. "wanna tell me what's going on?"

"nothing," you mumble, avoiding his gaze. "i've just been busy."

"cut the bullshit," he snaps, uncharacteristically angry. "ever since that night a few weeks ago you've been ghosting me. i thought we were friends."

that night plays on repeat in your head, almost like a movie you can't turn off. the feeling of vinnie's lips on yours, his hands exploring your body, the way he made you feel cherished and cared for. but it was all pretend - nothing more than physical pleasure between best friends.

or at least, that's what you keep telling yourself it was to him while your foolish heart dreamed of more. now you have to make him understand it can't be anything at all to you anymore before you get in too deep.

"i think we should stop.. whatever this is," you say quietly, finally meeting his turbulent gaze.

hurt flashes across his face before he schools his expression into one of indifference. "oh. i see. it was just nothing to you then?"

"no, it's not like that," you sigh in frustration. how do you explain this without hurting him more? "i just, i developed feelings okay? and i know you said no strings but—"

"who said i didn't have feelings too?" he cuts you off, running an agitated hand through his hair.

you blink, taken aback. "what?"

"fuck, i care about you!" vinnie shouts, the anger and pain finally bursting to the surface. "these past few months with you have been some of the best in my life. i tried to play it cool but i'm in deep, alright? i love you."

your mind spins, trying to process what you're hearing. vinnie likes you? all this time avoiding him was for nothing? you stare at him open-mouthed as he continues.

"so don't tell me it was just physical for you, because it wasn't for me," he says bitterly. "i wanted all of it - the sex, the cuddling, the lazy mornings together. i wanted you."

a sob wells up in your throat. all the hurt and confusion comes spilling out as you grab onto the fabric of his shirt, balling it tightly in your fists. "i'm so sorry," you blubber, tears now streaming freely down your face. "i thought—i thought if i distanced myself it wouldn't hurt as much. but it only made it worse."

vinnie's face softens and he grasps your wrists gently, loosening your grip on his shirt. "hey, shh it's okay," he soothes. "i'm here now. i got you, baby."

he pulls you against his chest in a tight embrace as you cry, rubbing soothing circles on your back. "i should have been honest with how i felt from the start. this is all my fault."

you shake your head into his chest. "no, i pushed you away when i shouldn't have. i was scared."

pulling back to meet your watery gaze, vinnie brushes your tears away with the pad of his thumbs. "don't be scared. i know i said no strings but… fuck, i want all the strings with you, baby. if you'll have me."

a watery laugh escapes your lips as a smile breaks through. "of course i'll have you, you idiot."

vinnie grins, his smile bright enough to light up the dark room. he leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that expresses everything left unsaid between you until now. you moan into it, grasping at his shirt to keep him close, never wanting to let go again.

when you finally part for air, he rests his forehead against yours, eyes glittering with care and affection. "let me stay with you tonight?"

all you can do is nod euphorically, still overwhelmed by the turn of events. vinnie takes your hand and leads you down the hall to your bedroom, closing the door shut behind you. his touch is gentle but searing as he guides you back onto the soft mattress, covering your body with his own.

there's an underlying urgency to your actions now, a need to reconnect after being torn apart by doubt and confusion for so long. but vinnie takes his time undressing you slowly, pressing sweet kisses to every new patch of skin revealed with a reverence that makes your heart ache.

you return the gesture in kind, learning his body like a beloved song you know by heart but will never tire of singing. his moans and the scrape of his stubble against sensitive flesh are your favorite melodies.

when he finally sinks into you, it feels like two pieces of a puzzle clicking perfectly into place after drifting so long apart. he hits that spot inside you with practiced precision, drinking in every gasp and cry wrung from your lips in the dark.

you cling to him desperately, etching crescent moons into his back with your fingernails as you fly higher and higher together. when you fall, it's simultaneously the most exquisite pain and pleasure. he follows you over the edge with a raspy moan, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

you lay entwined after, listening to each other's rapidly calming breaths in comfortable silence. vinnie presses a kiss to your shoulder, arms tightening around your sated body.

"be my girl?" he mumbles sleepily against your skin. you turn to face him, heart swelling almost to bursting at the vulnerability and care written plainly across his handsome features.

"i'm already yours," you answer, sealing it with a soft kiss.

for the first time, you allow yourself to believe this could be the start of something real - something permanent and loving between you. no more running from what you want; you're in vinnie's arms where you belong. tomorrow you'll start again with open communication and honesty. but for now, basking in the afterglow and security of his embrace is more than enough.

[god-i-hope-so]

Tips for younger Bucktommy fic writers who're looking to write an accurate characterization, especially when it comes to Tommy (and this post is also for the people who think everything goes too fast with no build-up between Buck and Tommy):

Dating when you're in your 30s and 40s is very different. When you meet a decent person you're attracted to and with whom things go (very) well the first few times you meet, things can go very fast in a very simple way. You know yourself better and you know others better too. So the dating phase can be very short and things can move on to being a real couple and moving together quite fast (if that's what both want). Also, things go even faster when it comes to queer people. In short: less bullshit, more straight to the point.

Love != passion. Of course, it's a generalization but the "passionate" phase of the relationship doesn't last as long as when you're younger. The passion is still there but it's not burning hot, explosive, in the face of the world, "look at us how we loooooove each other", it's more tender. You can have a passionate relationship but it doesn't show the same way as when you're 20. Passion becomes like a slow cooked dish with rich and deep flavors, instead of the rush of an energy drink and 5 coffees in your 20s. Also, it doesn't mean Buck and Tommy can't fuck nasty.

We care less, about a lot of things. Again, it's a generalization and I'm also writing this with what we know about Tommy and Buck. Unless Tommy is hiding his game very well, his personality is pretty clear to me. Look at the date. It was a failure for Tommy, as a gay man who fought his own demons, and others, for years. Yet, he decided to be kind about it. Because in the end, it's not the end of the world. It hurts, sure, but that wouldn't be the first time and he didn't make it only about him. It was also about Buck not being ready. The coffee date was also a good scene. Tommy is almost nonchalant, open. I'm borrowing Ryan's words when he said "whatever happens happens". Tommy went through enough shit to not give this situation the drama that can be easily avoided. And it paid off.

Pouting, sulking, active display of real jealousy, acting like a child (and I insist on the "like a child" because adult can sulk, obviously) = NOT CUTE. AT ALL. I get that the infantilization of adults is very common in fandoms so younger people can relate, and because fic writers often write older characters with younger people in mind as references. But it's not a thing in real life, and when it happens, it's not "normal behavior". Of course they can sulk and pout, but not the same way as a young person would. It's a lot more subtle. Also, in the case of Tommy, he's been shown being very good at communicating what he wants and doesn't want. Buck will dance around the matter more, his frustration would probably show with him being agitated or anxious, being reckless too, because he's just like that, but not Tommy. Make them talk about their issues, even if they go through a period of frustration and miscommunication. Tommy should be the kind of man who will encourage Buck to grow and be better at sorting and understanding his feelings in a mature way but without treating him as a child.

Again, all this could help for an accurate characterization. Anyone is free to write the characters the way they want, go full OOC if you want, it's your fic. This post is just giving some tips!

[percygranate]

⚠️PSA – ickybatz is back! Predators on AO3⚠️

⚠️TW for Mentions of Child Sexual Abuse, Child Abuse, Minor Sexual Content, Pedophilia, GROOMING, and Pedophile Conversations. PLEASE read and reblog if you can.

IMPORTANT UPDATE: Demobatz is NOT ickybatz, also known as batty-ruski, battyrusk.

I made a mistake by assuming due to the names, and after being in contact with Demobatz, I edited the post. I apologize for this but don't fully regret calling them out, as it helped Demobatz realize they made a mistake and it brought a lot of attention to the issue of predators on AO3 and Tumblr.

In-depth explanation [HERE]!

This 13/16-year-old CHILD is out here asking for pedophilia requests and getting encouraged and groomed by predators.

I accidentally came across it, and I encourage you to report them and everyone interacting with their work. There is a difference between dark romance, dark fics, and straight-up romanticization of children being assaulted.

They write about these children actively partaking and enjoying it, hoping they can please the adult taking advantage of them. These works are clearly written for the type of person that gets off on it.

——— Update ———

Their way of writing to cope with past trauma was groomed and manipulated by predators on AO3.

——— Update ———

——— False Information | Demobatz isn't Ickybatz ———

So much for “Oh, they are a traumatized child and made a mistake.” They now know it's wrong and continue doing it, even worse than before. And people continue to support it.

Their fucking apology was absolute bullshit. And everyone that came to their defense should be ashamed of themselves.

——— False Information | Demobatz isn't Ickybatz ———

↓ Here are AO3 accounts supporting this. ↓

Yes, they put warnings on their work and say “Don’t Like It, Don’t Read It!” But I would like to show you what they are writing, and how they are getting the attention of predators. I am sure you have to agree with me that they and everyone supporting this need to lose any type of platform they own. Demobatz should NOT be in any contact with these men.

⚠️They encourage each others to write this and Demobatz, A 13/16-YEAR-OLD, is actively putting themselves in danger by making “friends” for roleplay, and exchanging social media, with very likely, PEDOPHILES. They are actively getting groomed by people that know what they are doing.⚠️

——————————————————

↓These are their two original works↓

Financial Struggles — The summary says it all. But I feel like I should point out their conversation under their post.

Mother’s Milk — Sexual Assault of a male baby.

——————————————————

↓This is their work in the Stranger Things Fandom↓

Their work “Deceit” which is taking requests and actively posting has, as of May 21st, 16 Chapters.

1 — “Using this as a coping mechanism for my own trauma. Please request, any age is allowed❤️”

2 — Eddie Munson, 25 y/o | Reader, 17 y/o

3 — Uncle Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson | Reader, 6 y/o

4 — Eddie Munson, 20 y/o | Reader, 12 y/o

5 — Steve, 19 y/o & Eddie, 20 y/o | Reader, 14 y/o

6 — Dad Steve | Reader, 8 y/o

7 — Dad Steve & Eddie | Reader, 8 y/o

8 — Big Brother Steve | Reader, 4 y/o

9 — Big Brother Billy Hargrove | Reader, 6 y/o

10 — “Posting this so that you all can give me ideas on what to post next❤️ Anything is allowed/ age can be whatever you want♡♡!”

11 — Billy & Steve | Reader, 3 y/o

12 — Hopper & Joyce | Reader, 4 y/o

13 — !BILLY HARGROVE AND A NEWBORN BABY!

14 — Billy | Reader, 6 y/o & Max, 7 y/o

15 — “It hasn't been a week and I'm almost at 2,000 reads! Thank you all so much♡♡ Feel free to drop suggestions, request or even ideas/blurbs♡♡”

16 — Big Brother Eddie / Reader over the years, starting at 6 y/o

——————————————————

They actively encourage pedophilia and put themselves on a silver platter for predators.

If you are still trying to justify these types of works, please do it off anon and openly so you can be blocked since you are part of the problem.

Do not send threats, bullying, or harassment their way. Block and Report.

If you know one or more of the interacting blogs, call them out.

⚠️UPDATE: 22nd of May⚠️

Dear fellow Bloggers, Demobatz pedophilia fic “Deceit” has been taken down!

Yet their two original works (mentioned above) are still there. I ask you to keep reporting them!

Demobatz is currently using Wit as their social media to exchange ideas for their CSA & incest Erotica, and worse, to roleplay with potential predators.

⚠️Update: May 25th⚠️

AO3 has removed their account or they deleted it themselves. Their Wit profile has been deleted.

Due to this post, my blogs keep getting shadowbanned and reported.

⚠️Update: May 26th⚠️

DEMOBATZ CONTACTED ME AND I CAN CONFIRM THIS APOLOGY TO BE REAL!

In-depth continuation and explanation [HERE]!

⚠️I turned off Reblogs as the original post with false information is still making rounds and therefore people are missing information.⚠️

[heathermason6060]

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader: Together Apart Ch.2

Warnings/Mentions: History of abuse, neglect, strong language, mentions of character death, alcohol and drug abuse, ptsd, shared trauma, reader is cold, angst, fluff, eventual smut

Summary: Reader gives friendships a try, and the first signs of Daryl changing start showing after unexpected tragedy.

Notes: I love writing Merle and early season Daryl, I hope they're in character!

"I'm ten seconds away from blowing his goddamn brains out."

"Not worth the wasted bullets." Daryl watched as Shane stalked back up towards the Greene house. You scoffed and rolled your eyes when you saw him stopping himself from slamming the door, at least needing to respect Hershel gave him some restraint from being a complete piece of shit. You weren't sure how long that would last though.

"Can't fucking stand these people Daryl. He looked like he wanted to kill me."

"Ya called 'em a homewrecker. The hell'd you expect?"

The days would go by without pause, no matter how you all screamed and cried for just one minute, one minute to get it together and breathe. Everything was constantly changing, and it ended up making you colder. 

The Greene farm was a nice place. You enjoyed the chores you took on there, you got to work with the horses, the cows, and the old barn cat. He'd end up passing away after a while, which would have really upset you if it hadn't been such a peaceful death, he just fell asleep with a stomach full of deer stew and never woke up. 

Andrea's strange half admiration and half disturbed likeness to you strengthened at the time on the farm, which you didn't know how to handle. You'd always wanted a girlfriend, ever since your first one in 6th grade ended your friendship. Your mother had shown up to pick you up from school, so high on Percocet she could barely keep her eyes open. She rear-ended the father of your friend, he got pissed, she spit in his face, and he called the police. ‘My daddy says I can't hang out with trailer trash like you anymore.’ She'd told you the next day. 

You secretly liked the way Andrea looked up to you. It was nice having a woman think highly of you, or any adult for that matter. She would often ask for shooting practice, and you even let her try out your bow a few times. 

She kind of fucked up your budding friendship when she shot Daryl. If you hadn't been so busy helping him get up into the house you would have shot her in her foot, and that's not an exaggeration. You wanted to stay up in that room with him until he fully healed, willing to sleep on the floor just so you'd be with him at all times, but the insecure fear of being seen as weak and clingy prevented you from doing so. You were out in the woods most of those days, hunting or killing any dead you ran across.

It was almost humiliating the way people would update you on Daryl’s condition. At first it was just Rick letting you know he’d be okay, but then it was Maggie and Hershel updating you on his eating habits, how much he ate, when he ate, he was only in bed for a couple of days, but it felt like weeks. Each time someone would tell you the miniscule details of his day you’d respond the same way, ‘Why’re you telling me? I’m not his mamma’. If you could look past the embarrassment of feeling like a worried child, you would be grateful. 

Andrea unknowingly made it up to you when you heard her bitching at Lori in the kitchen once, apparently having enough of her ‘a woman's place is in the kitchen making life worth living, leave the guns to the men' spiel. You complimented her afterwards. 

“Been real sick of that shit.” You had said as you loaded your Ruger pistol. “She's lucky it was you who said it, I think I would've punched that bitch in the face if she said that bullshit to me.”

Andrea was almost too stressed over the Beth situation to fully appreciate the gravity of your praise. She nodded as she looked over the field, eyes squinting against the bright afternoon sun, her arms crossed over her chest. “All my life I've heard that kind of thinking from men. It's different when it's a woman telling you that you're not worth the same as a man. Especially when said man lied about her husband being dead and got in her pants right after.” 

You smirked, stuffing your gun into the back of your jeans as you looked her over. “Wanna go kill some dead people?” 

“Oh, god.” She groaned dramatically. “That's the best idea I've heard all week.”

After you lost the farm, you wound up at an old prison. That was one of the rare times you had allowed yourself to try and be positive, and forced yourself to make friends, although it was obvious all your relationships were strained. Andrea was the only person who had ever made an effort to get to know you, and she was gone. 

Shane’s death didn’t affect you much, truthfully you were glad Rick killed him. The constant tension and heated arguments drained you just as much as Dale’s annoying humanitarianism. You attempted being friends with Lori, Hershel, Carol and Beth, despite the young girl being your polar opposite. She was soft, pretty, sweet and bubbly, you were hard, mean, vulgar and distant. 

Which might be one of the reasons your relationship with her had started to work. Beth saw you as a challenge, like a mean feral cat, and deep down you saw her as a possible redemption. If you could become friends with Beth, the sweetest girl with the kindest heart, you could do it with anyone. 

Lori never trusted you, so you never got far with her. She would look at you with this look on her face, like you were always seconds away from cutting her baby out of her stomach or some twisted shit. You had cursed her out once for said expressions, calling her a stuck-up bitch who thinks every woman that isn't her is beneath her. She died a couple days later, and a part of you that you couldn't push away felt like shit about it, for a very long time.

The whole Governor shit was a pain in your ass. But it was a blessing in disguise, because he was the reason you were reunited with Merle. 

“I want to come.” You stood your ground, grabbing your Ruger AR-15 from its spot on your cell wall. 

“I said no, we’ve got enough concerns, we don't need to be worrying about you.” Rick tried to speak in a hushed tone, his intentions good, not wanting you to feel embarrassed if the others heard you being denied. They knew you seethed at the prospect of being told what to do. You didn't work well with others, that was glaringly obvious.

“I don’t need you to worry about me.” You hissed, tugging the heavy gun over your back so the strap dug into your shoulder. 

Rick repeated your name, using his angry father tone, and that seemed to work. Your shoulders drooped and you growled out a few insults under your breath. You missed when the group members had more say in the way things were. Rick had become more authoritarian after Lori died, and it never affected you until that day. 

When they got back you were waiting at the door, pacing like a mother in those movies whose children had stayed out too late. Your eyes brightened as they filed into the prison, you saw Maggie and Glenn were back, and Michonne had returned as well. 

Your anxious smile slowly faded as the door closed behind them, counting two missing bodies. 

“Where…?” You breathed, looking between Rick and Maggie, your heart racing. 

Rick started having a goddamn mental breakdown after that, screaming at the walls and pointing his gun at things only visible to him. Tyrese, the newcomer, and his group fled, and a part of you considered it as well. If Daryl and Merle were dead, you had no reason to stay. Especially not with Rick behaving like a fucking maniac and no one speaking to you. 

True to your nature, you abandoned the prison in search of the Dixons. You knew they couldn’t have truly left, they would never do that, they'd never leave and forget you. Especially Daryl. He had promised to you one night after you fully secured the prison, that he was the one thing in your life that would never change. He’d never die, he’d never leave, he would always be there. Not in those exact words, of course, but in his own way.

He had stayed true to his promise. You found the two of them on their way to the prison, traveling through the same trails you’d originally used to find the place. 

“Thought I’d never see you two assholes again.” The apocalypse had made you more skilled at hiding your true emotions. You came off as playfully irritated, a contrast to the way you were barely keeping tears at bay. 

“Awww,” Merle teased in a condescending tone, faking a pout, “You miss us?”

“No. Rick’s group makes you seem like a peach though.” 

“Our group.” Daryl’s voice had taken on a strange edge as he walked ahead of you down the trail. “Those are our people now.”

You glanced at Merle to see he was outwardly displaying your same reaction, rolling his eyes and silently mimicking his brother's words. 

No matter how happy you were to see the two of them, Daryl’s reply echoed in your head for a long time. He meant what he said, you could tell by the way he spoke. He was changing, you hadn’t noticed it until that day, he wasn’t the same Daryl from Atlanta, the Daryl you knew. You swallowed your retort and followed him back to the prison. 

The Governor shit was really a pain in your ass after that day, making your earlier experiences a walk in the park. Through the tense days you found yourself around Merle more, the two of you discussing the prospect of just getting the fuck out of there in hushed voices, despite you both knowing Daryl would never abandon Ricks group. It was like he had some sort of unknown obligation to them, something you couldn't decode for the life of you, no matter how hard you tried.

“You're gettin’ real close to bein’ a bonafide pussy, boy.” Merle had said one day, shoving his finger in Daryl’s face. You stayed silent as they argued, biting at the soft skin inside your cheek. 

“Why? Cause I ain't jus’ lookin’ out for myself no more? Cause I actually give a shit about these people?” Daryl standing up to Merle wasn’t a familiar sight, and it made you feel emotions you really weren’t comfortable with. 

“It’s making you weak, brother.” Merle urged, nearly slicing his own scalp when he went to put his hands on his head, the heat of the moment causing him to forget his right hand was now a weapon. “Can't you see it? I ain’t gonna let you die for these sheep.”

Daryl would soon come to regret his last interaction with his brother. You, on the other hand, were lucky enough to have had some peaceful final moments with him before he vanished. 

“Dude, that's my fucking bed!” You shoved Merle away from your mattress, groaning when you saw it shredded and ruined. You’d have to go to the other cellblock and get another, if he hadn’t already paid those cells a visit. 

Merle sat on the floor breathing heavily through his mouth, resting an arm over his propped up knee.

“The hell you do that for?” You grumbled, kicking a chunk of bedding out of your cell and into the hallway. 

“Hopin’ to find some contraband.” 

“Dude, you could’ve just asked me. Holy shit.” You grabbed one of your bags from the corner of your room and began to dig through it, finally pulling out Merle’s old stash bag. HIs eyes lit up and he practically jumped for joy, snatching it out of your hands.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, you know that?” He grabbed your face with his hand and noisily kissed your cheek, making you groan and shove him off. “Oh sweetheart. Whooo! Daryl know about this?”

“No, didn’t want him to know. I’m better at making shit last than him.” You replied. Daryl didn't like drugs the way Merle did, he had his run in with meth and its consequences and he was strong enough to quit and not touch it again. Other drugs were a different story though, you suspected the speed and painkillers would be gone by now if he had known you were the one who stole it.

He fished out the group of smaller baggies he was looking for, full of various shades of white in different textures. He groaned like he just creamed his pants and leaned over, planting another dramatic smooch to your forehead.

You stayed with him on the floor of your cell as he got high, and eventually he left to go ‘clear out the walkers in the tombs’, something you were happy to sit out on. He told you to stay back and you laughed, teasing with a ‘it's all yours, tweaker’. 

Even though your last moments with him were pleasant, you never forgave yourself for not accompanying him. 

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @my1fx

[obaex]

sweet silence - rafe cameron

summary: rafe manages to say a lot to you without saying anything

word count: 3.3k

warnings: cursing, ward being ward

You, Sarah and Kie were sprawled out on the living room floor in Tanneyhill amidst a pile of pillows and blankets late into a Saturday night sleepover. You could hear the two of them breathing softly, asleep, as you stirred awake. Your ears perked up, but all you could hear was the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway. That's when you heard a rustling and the sound of keys jangling against the back door. You got up slowly, careful not to wake them and went to investigate. You heard the back door open and close quietly and you held your breath as you tiptoed around the corner into the kitchen and ran straight into someone tall and muscular. You let out a yelp as he cursed quietly, "Fuck, what are you doing?" Your eyes adjusted in the darkness and you found yourself face to face with Sarah's older brother Rafe.

Your gaze swept over him quickly, taking in his mussed hair, skin shining with a layer of sweat courtesy of the sweltering humidity of the OBX summer. His eyes were glassy and his pupils were dilated, zeroed in on you. His mouth was downturned, angry, waiting for you to reply. That's when you noticed his split lip and the caked blood on his face. As his eyes tracked yours, he quickly wiped his lips with the back of his hand, avoiding eye contact. "I'm fine" he said, answering the question that had been lingering on your lips.

"Rafe -" you started.

"I said I'm fucking fine" he shoved past you, his shoulder colliding with yours as he made his way upstairs.

I don't need you. I don't need anyone.

The next morning you sat around the Cameron's dining room table enjoying a breakfast spread fit for royalty alongside Ward, Rose, Sarah and Kie. Conversation was flowing amiably until Rafe ambled into the room, sliding into the only open seat which was next to you. An awkward silence descended and you could feel the energy in the room shift as Ward's focus fell on his son.

"Nice of you to join us, Rafe" Ward commented.

"Must have missed the memo" Rafe retorted, avoiding eye contact with the group as he stacked his plate full. In the light of the morning, you could see his split lip was badly swollen and a deep purple bruise was forming under his left eye. It didn't escape Ward either.

"What time did you get home last night?" Ward countered.

"Late" was all Rafe offered.

"I would ask what happened to your face, but I don't want to start my day with more of your bullshit Rafe. You'll be washing the Druthers, skimming the pool and anything else I damn well ask of you today, is that understood?"

Your insides twisted at Ward's sharp tone. You felt your cheeks flush from secondhand embarrassment and the shame of being in the middle of such a personal confrontation.

Rafe's response was a scathing glare at his father before returning to focus on his breakfast.

Without warning, Ward slammed his fist down on the table, causing all of you to jump involuntarily as he raised his voice, "Dammit, Rafe! You will look at me when I'm speaking to you and you will acknowledge me when I ask you a question! I said, do you understand me?"

Rafe met his father's gaze, straightening in his chair. "Loud and clear" he said, his voice betraying his confident posture as it wavered.

You never imagined the day you would see Rafe Cameron, King Kook, anything less than confident, snarky and brazen, but now he looked utterly afraid, small, almost childlike.

Ward continued unrelenting, "You are a constant disappointment to me and this family, you understand that, right? I want you to be a man, to take over the company, but you refuse to grow up, refuse to be an adult and take responsibility for your actions -" His berating continued as you closed your eyes, subtly trying to drown him out and will yourself out of this situation. Next to you, you could feel Rafe's leg jiggling up and down nervously under the table as he fidgeted with his hands in his lap. As Ward's words continued to pound down, you reacted without thinking, your hand shooting under the table, onto Rafe's lap, grabbing his hand, lacing your fingers with his and squeezing.

When you realized what you had done you began to pull your hand back, embarrassed, when Rafe started squeezing back, hard. He was clinging to your hand like a lifeline, squeezing as each of Ward's words continued to fall over him.

Don't pity me...But don't let go.

"Heelloooo, anybody home?!" You refocused your attention as JJ waved his hands in front of your face, bringing you back to reality, surrounded by your friends as the steady beat of music pulsed around you at the boneyard the following weekend. "I asked if you wanted another beer?" JJ repeated.

"It's fine, I'll get it" you replied, hopping up from your seat at the bonfire and walking over to the keg.

As you approached, you saw that there were already a few people around the keg, Topper, Kelce... and Rafe. They were pouring themselves drinks, talking animatedly about something when Rafe looked up and caught your eye. While the others ignored you, Rafe's eyes scanned you unabashedly, a lopsided grin on his face. You felt your skin prickle under his gaze. Without saying anything, he refocused his attention on pouring beer into the solo cup in his hand and when it was full, he held it out to you, meeting your gaze. Never breaking eye contact, his telltale grin lingering on his lips, his fingers ghosted over yours gently as you took the cup from him.

Hi his fingers said smoothly as they skimmed yours

Hi said yours in return

You returned to your friends, mind racing. Had you just had a moment with Rafe Cameron? Something inside of you sparked at the idea, the excitement, the intrigue. Rafe was nothing if not a loose cannon. A rogue firecracker: beautiful and exciting to look at, but inherently dangerous with the capacity to leave a scorched path in its wake.

You took several deep sips of your beer. You didn't want to think about Rafe Cameron. You didn't want to get your hopes up only to be deeply disappointed and heartbroken. He was King Kook, you were a Pogue Princess, that's where this story starts and ends. But at the same time, you wanted to slip further into your buzz and let yourself pretend, even if just for tonight, that there was something there you could hold on to.

Your buzz, sponsor of all great ideas, was what drove you to hop on the tall driftwood with Sarah and Kie, using it as a dance platform as the party raged around you. The three of you danced on it like you were on top of the bar at The Wreck. You hopped from driftwood to driftwood, the liquor in your cup and your flimsy flip flops making the dives precarious and wobbly as you closed your eyes, lifted your hands and let your hips sway side to side. All too soon, you heard the telltale siren of approaching police cars. Not looking to be busted, you frantically scrambled down, teetering slightly as your feet hit the soft sand before firm hands steadied you from behind, gently grasping your arms.

I've got you... I don't want you to get hurt.

You turned to see Rafe smiling down at you. He opened his mouth to say something but was cut off as Topper grabbed him and ran down the beach.

Midsummers arrived and Sarah was adamant that you go with her. She fussed with your hair and makeup all afternoon, and frankly the end result was astonishing. Your hair was swept into a soft updo and your sunkissed skin glittered against your dress, the perfect shape and color.

When you arrived, you could feel the heat of the glares and the whispers that followed you. You weren't sure if it was the fact that the Pogue Princess has graced Figure Eight with her presence or the way your dress hugged you in all the right places, but you let yourself think the latter and didn't spend too much time worrying about it. Before long Topper whisked Sarah away to dance and one of his Kook friends asked you as well. He was nice enough in an overbearingly preppy way, replete with a pink bowtie and seersucker suit; it took everything in you not to laugh out loud as you awkwardly shuffled back and forth like you were at a middle school dance. Halfway through the song, you felt a presence behind you as a hand gently grazed your lower back. "Chad, is it? Chaz? Chase? Why don't you go get yourself a drink buddy?" Rafe stated, really more of a command than a suggestion. Charlie quickly dropped your hands, nodding at Rafe before making himself scarce.

Wordlessly, Rafe took his place, swiftly closing the distance between the two of you as his right hand spread across your lower back and his left hand enveloped your hand in his.

His eyes twinkled as they looked at you, taking you in at this close distance. You were inches away from him. Close enough to feel his body heat, to smell him: fresh linen and sandalwood, and to see the freckles that dotted his nose.

You settled into an effortless rhythm as he guided you along to the music. Your silence was comfortable as you adjusted to the proximity of each other, your heart hammering so hard in your chest, you swore he could hear it. He grazed his cheek softly against yours, his hand spreading further across your back as he pulled you closer. Hoping to say with his body, what he couldn't find the words to say out loud.

I needed to know what it felt like to hold you in my arms, to feel your body against mine, to take in your perfume that reminds me of a warm day on the beach. I've been thinking about you. Incessantly. I don't want to hide it anymore. And I don't want to see you dancing with anyone else.

Your mind whirled and your breath hitched as he traced small circles on your back, pressing himself against you, his cheek resting against yours. A thousand questions traveled around your head. Is there something here? Do I make him nervous the way he makes me nervous? Why is he doing this? What am I to him?

Eventually, you squeezed your eyes shut, relaxing into his touch, willing yourself to enjoy the moment while it lasted.

"Mmkay, so are we going to talk about you and my brother last night or are we all going to pretend like that didn't happen?"

Your cheeks flushed a deep scarlet and you prayed the glare of the sun would hide your embarrassment from Sarah as you began to fill her and Kie in on everything that had transpired. There was no use in hiding it now, and you had meant to talk to them about it, but didn't think there was anything to talk about until now.

"So y'all haven't said more than five words to each other?" Kie asked. "I support you doing whatever you've got to do dude, even if I for sure don't understand it. Just please be careful."

"Funny, Rafe usually never shuts up" said Sarah, "especially when it comes to girls." She made a puking face. "But he hasn't said anything about you, or anyone else actually, for a while."

You focused back on your lunch as the topic of conversation changed. You were on the patio at The Wreck, nursing your hangovers with the rest of Figure Eight and tourons alike. "I'll be right back" you muttered as you popped up to go to the bathroom. You shimmied your way inside amongst the wall of bodies that packed the island's favorite bar and restaurant, the smell of sweat and stale beer heavy and the touron crowd rowdy in the throes of day drinking.

You had just made it past the bar when someone roped their fingers into the belt loop of your denim cutoffs, spinning you around to face them, "Hey sweet thing, come take a shot with us," twanged a touron, continuing to yank you towards his group of college buddies who were egging him on with shouts and jeers.

"Maybe next time!" you replied. He was cute, but you knew better than to mess with the touron crowd and the sheer thought of a shot increased the pounding headache of your hangover. As you turned to walk away, you felt him yank you again, harder this time, nearly knocking you off balance.

"'Fraid we can't take no for an answer! This is our last day in the OBX! You can't say no to us!" he implored. You squirmed, annoyed, trying to release his hold on your shorts as he pulled you closer before you heard someone start shouting over your shoulder.

"Hey, fuckface, she was trying to be nice, but let me spell it out for you. She doesn't want your $2 Fireball shot, and she doesn't want to be anywhere near you, so take your goddamn hands off of her before I slam your face into the bar."

At that, you felt a warm body behind you as Rafe's arm slid over your shoulders, wrapping around you and pulling you gently into him and away from the group. His words were steady, but you were surprised to feel his body quivering with anger. Like it was the most natural thing in the world, you placed your hands over his arm, hugging him to you.

I don't want to see another man's hands on you. You're safe.

Rafe led you away from the bar into a quiet corner of the restaurant, as he turned to face you, you both began speaking at the same time.

"Rafe -" you started

"Can I see you tonight?" he asked. His expression was serious. He was laser focused on you. You could see that he was clenching and unclenching his fists, clearly riled up from the confrontation at the bar. His question caught you totally off guard. Was this a date? Was he angry with you?

"Y-Yes!" you said.

"Be ready at seven" he said, brushing your shoulder gently as he walked out the front door.

I need to leave before I rip someone's head off. I don't want you to see what you do to me. There's a lot I need to say to you, but I'm not going to do it here.

With no indication of what Rafe had planned, you dressed, undressed and redressed several times before landing on an outfit that was cute but casual: your favorite denim cutoffs that hugged your curves just right and a white crop top. Just before 7:00 you heard tires crunching in the gravel of your driveway. You steeled yourself, touching up your hair and makeup before making your way out to his truck. He hopped out of the driver's seat at the first sign of you with a relaxed and goofy grin on his face. You couldn't remember a time you had seen him look so at ease, even happy?

He walked to your side of the car to open your door for you and offered you a hand to help you into your seat.

You settled into a comfortable silence as Rafe navigated the truck, his left hand resting on the steering wheel, his right drumming a repetitive beat on the center console in time with the song playing quietly on the radio. You tried to say something, anything but couldn't bring the words to the surface, questions bouncing around your head as your heart beat soundly in your chest. Your shared silence over the last month had gone on so long it felt like a third passenger in the truck that didn't want to be interrupted.

You refocused on the road, tracking the familiar path as Rafe drove to the beach, out to the tip of the island furthest away from the noise and crowds of the tourons who were dragging toys, tents, umbrellas and chairs back to their hotels for the evening. As the crowds faded, you were left with the quiet, calm breeze blowing through the palm trees and the gentle crash of the ocean waves that lapped the shore as the sun sank lower in the sky, putting a pink-peach filter on the day.

Rafe parked and quickly hopped out of the truck, jogging to your side of the car to open your car door and help you down. You placed your hand in his and as you settled by his side, he didn't let go, weaving your fingers more closely together as he led you onto the beach.

As you both kicked off your shoes and your toes sunk into the warm, soft sand, you gave his hand an involuntary squeeze as your heart fluttered. This was your favorite time of day in your favorite place in the world, how had he known that? He looked down at you, smiling his lopsided smile at the feeling of your hand in his as you began to walk along the ocean.

You continued in silence, the rush of the ocean and the occasional call of the seagulls and pelicans gliding overhead the only sound between you until Rafe stopped to face you, taking both of your hands in his.

He opened his mouth to say something. Stopped. Tried again. His brow furrowed and he broke eye contact with you, his eyes finding his feet in the sand, shuffling them. You could see a tic in his jaw as he worked it back and forth in frustration. You wanted to say something but you also didn't want to ruin this moment, this chance to finally hear what it is he had to say after a month of trying to interpret stolen glances, brushed fingers and a dizzying pattern of body language that made you feel like you had swallowed a mason jar of butterflies.

Finally, he looked back at you, meeting you with such direct eye contact that you felt your breath hitch. His eyes were searching yours, looking for something. Trust? Understanding? Acknowledgement? Without thinking, you gave his hands a gentle squeeze.

It's okay, I feel it too.

And that seemed to be the reassurance that he needed, dropping your hands to cup your face with his, closing the distance between you. Before your brain could calculate what was happening, his lips were a breath away from yours, ghosting them gently with the slightest touch, teasing you, testing you, a wide smile on his face, reveling in the moment, knowing that he had you mind, body and soul before relenting and pressing his lips to yours gently, softly. The intense physical connection after so many subtle moments was like surfing a storm surge, waves crashing over you. You looped your arms around his neck, pulling him flush to you as he deepened the kiss, his left hand moving from your cheek to tangle and fist gently in your hair while the other snaked around your waist. Your body, your everything melted against him. He tasted like limes and ginger as his lips enveloped yours, sliding his tongue into your mouth as you let out an involuntary sound from deep within you. Your head and heart tossed like you were caught in a rip current, happy to let the force of the wave pull you down into oblivion, each crash of his lips saying be mine, be mine, be mine.