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especiallythewomenandthechildren · 7 months ago

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The Tragedy of What Was (pt. 2)

masterlink

A/N: yeah no yall im alive yet have no life (school and life are coming for me). im so sorry it's literally been MONTHS but uhm here is whatever this is. Transaltions are at the end for the german words (pls dont kill me i used google translate) pls pls let me know your thoughts:)

warnings: unintended self harm, allusions to depression, bad grammar and spelling.

.・。.・゜✭・.✫・゜・。..✭・.✫・゜・。.

Wistful wind caressed your strands as it fleeted through your hair. The Geneva winds were kind on the sunny day as you sat on the cherry brown bench. Pen and leather-bound journal in hand, the words on your page turned blurry when your focus shifted.

The new metropolitan park was not too busy during the midday, which was likely the cause of your attention shift. A few feet in front of your feet, a deep charcoal grey pigeon rested awkwardly due to its pain in its left wing. The angle of the wing was unnatural, but you knew not from vision but feel. The alignment of the bones was all wrong, and it pierced through the status quo of the bird's natural gravity. Quiet, weeping chirps were all the poor creature could manage.

Your grip on your journal tightened as you focused on the world and air around you. A breath in, and it felt like surfing on smooth liquid; you felt all the slight crevices and edges of the snapped bones in the pigeon’s wing. A breath out, paired with a sharp call of pain, and the wing was returned to its natural state. You watched as its yellow beady eyes scanned in amazement while it flapped its wings over and over again, testing out the sudden fix.

Within a few moments, the small creature trusted your care enough to take flight, a successful venture that brought a satisfied smile to your lips. Even if small, it brought you a special kind of warmth to know you helped just one living creature live life a little easier. You didn't interact much with people, so your "patients" were often the concerning amount of injured animals who occupied the various cities across the globe you were dragged along to.

It was an odd life you walked in. Your days were spent in peaceful parks, calm cafes, and buzzing bookshops. So surrounded by life, yet you felt you lacked one of your own. Your train of thoughts was starting to buzz in a headache, but you were never good at regulating yourself as the spiral began. The years of a singular chase — Sebastian Shaw — were coming to an end as each lead got you and Erik oh so close. A thought that should have made you happy but only had your body feel unbearable with the weight of your anxiety about the future. You had no proper education as your childhood was spent moving from place to place. Those days after the camps.

The breath you were seemingly holding let itself out in a painful escape. You needed to clear your mind of such consuming thoughts or at least do it in a fashion that did not play into your body's instinct to cause self-agony. The more you tried to stop, the more the pain in your skull intensified. Flashes of knives, sounds of buzzing, and hands — crack! One tiny little burst in the rough surface of your skull. A pattern that would have likely continued if not for the rough voice breaking you out of the tunnel of misery you were sure to experience.

"And how many birds have to thank you today?"

Erik's impressive height had you turning your head upwards, ignoring the pain raging through your head. He wasn't ignorant to your tendencies, but rather the intensity of the involuntary reactions. So you tried your best to hide it behind a smile and harshly crinkled eyes hidden behind a chic pair of white sunglasses.

"I'm not one to keep count, but if you must know... four. I'm starting to get concerned about how many I've had to help out."

You get off the bench and walk beside your older brother as he lightly scoffs at your response. You quickly pack away your very light leather-bound notebook, the mass you manipulated a long time ago to make it easier to carry around.

"The reach of humanity's cruelty is not surprising."

Even behind the dark-lensed glasses and Erik looking forward towards the busy street, you made a show of rolling your eyes.

"All this talk, yet I don't see you protesting for birds' rights."

It was then his turn to roll his eyes as his rigid posture made its way across the newly paved crosswalk. He never said a word of where he was taking you two, but that wasn't a new aspect of your very complicated brother. You could only assume it was back to the hotel you rented out only yesterday so you could check out and travel to yet another place on your wild goose chase. The globe-trotting would have been endearing if it wasn't fueled and caged within the confines of brutal revenge. A revenge you have rarely taken part in as Erik deliberately left you behind on his deliberation missions.

You weren't bloodthirsty like Erik, not that you blamed him. He took the hits twice as hard, once for himself and once for you. Though he could not stop all the attacks; reality still drew its blood. Suddenly, you realized that Erik had yet to elaborate on his meeting with the Nazi associate at the bank. You stared at him expectantly. He couldn't feel glances and other movements as tangibly as you, but you knew this wasn't ignorance.

"So..."

The tall man took a short look to his left toward you to silence any pestering questions when he was taken aback.

"Are those new glasses?"

You ignored him swiftly, fighting the twitching need to adjust them. "I was right, wasn't I?"

"That's the third pair in a month, Y/N."

"Argentina. I've been saying this for how long?"

"Y/N." His tone was grave and pertinent, but you couldn't succumb. You didn't want to acknowledge the truth, so you kept up your mask of smugness.

"I think this confirms that I indeed do have a second mutation that lets me see the future."

All cheery brags were halted, as was the entirety of your body. You kept your eyes forward as your weak defense, in the form of the cream-colored cat-eye glasses, was swept away and pulled effortlessly into Erik's calloused fingers.

Trying and failing, you hissed in pain as the afternoon light burned through each river of blood splattering your eyes.

You hissed as the sunlight stung your eyes. In an instant, the intense light dimmed as your eyelids shut in an effort to protect your sensitive irises. You walked so perfectly and casually that no one would even realize you had no vision. The vibrant feeling of every object and organism called out, guiding you along the way. One good thing about shutting out the visual world was avoiding Erik's disapproving glare.

"Why are you wearing these?"

Eyes still shut, the invisible strings pulling on every fighting molecule tugged the now slightly broken accessory. It was incorrectly angled, a problem likely caused by Erik's careless and harsh grip. You really liked that pair. Though that wasn't much of the reason why frustration began swirling in your heavy sighs.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe the little fact that my eyes are blood-busted? Who would have thought having nerves that self-explode would cause some sensitivity!" you grumbled. "Stop thinking I'm ashamed of my mutation, Erik. My injury makes me sensitive, and while the sun burns the normal retina, it boils me alive. It's a shield from the sun, not my identity. Like I've been explaining for the past decade."

You muttered the last part, feeling a slight insecurity. Over the years, your vision had cleared up, but you still had the scars. Swirling snakes of crimson still slithered in your glassy orbs, even all these years later. Your body and mind grew, yet those eyes remained the same. A symbol of a scared little girl. One who couldn't hurt a fly but could shatter each one of her bones in an instant.

Erik huffed as if he didn't fully believe you, which he likely didn't. He doubted the only thing bothering you about your eyes was the pain and not what caused it. "Something is still bothering you. Your eyes have been more sensitive than usual, isn't that so? You keep breaking glasses."

You opened your mouth to argue when he hit you with an argument you couldn't deny.

"The air around you is suffocating at night when I come back or wake up early. Like when we first left the camps."

You felt your heavy breaths settle uncomfortably in your paused lungs. Swiftly, the fashionable glasses were back on your pretty face. They were only a centimeter crooked. A lone tear protruded from your lacrimal and slid solemnly down your cheek. Erik felt the atmosphere becoming colder, even though there had been no shift in the general temperature. He knew you wanted the conversation to end, but you couldn't keep ignoring whatever was eating you alive because, one of these days, it would physically crush you. Your emotions had been playing roulette with your psyche and connected body for far too long to keep getting empty bullets.

The looming hotel leered from above you as you walked through the shiny revolving door effortlessly. Your strides were far shorter than Erik's long legs, but you were stubborn. A trait that he dreaded being on the other side of. Finally, your legs were forced to pause their march as you awaited the luxury elevators.

"What is it that you cannot talk to me about?"

Dark-lensed glasses still on inside the artificially lit hotel, you kept your head forward. The air still acted like guards from Erik's inquisition.

"So, Argentina?"

The tall man huffed, knowing if he pushed any further, you would push yourself into a new set of injuries. Numerous past experiences taught him the extent of your uncontrollability.

"We are leaving tonight. Pack your bags."

Ding!

"Never have enough time to unpack anyways."

And with that, you slipped through the doors of the gold-encrusted elevator.

.・。.・゜✭・.✫・゜・。..✭・.✫・゜・。.

The Argentinian sun rays were blissful upon your skin—a welcoming feeling after the odd prickles of discomfort dancing upon your goosebumps. Though the break was short-lived. Following the same pattern you had since the '40s, as soon as your feet touched foreign ground, Erik went off on his own. As you walked across the dirt and stone streets of the small rural town, surrounded by beautifully secluded mountains and lush greenery, you felt just as grown as you did when you were 10. The feeling of uselessness was one you had never gotten used to—just one item on the exhausting list. Self-pity had never done you any good, so the tiny, warmly inviting shop seemed like a good distraction.

Your deep maroon leather notebook had filled its last pages, much to your irritation, on the plane ride over. Writing was always your one sure cure for clarity, and you wrote as much as you could in the metal contraption flying unnaturally through the air. You felt everything too vividly, and it suffocated you. You often wondered whether or not Erik enjoyed being surrounded by so much power, though you never managed enough courage to ask.

The colorful bells rang above your head as you smiled at the dark-haired, pretty woman behind the counter. Walking straight into the nearest aisle to avoid conversation, it found you regardless. As you were taking off your glasses to observe your surroundings, you found yourself right in front of what you were searching for—an array of bound journals shining beneath the sunlight. Squinting to adjust to the light change, you realized that your sudden stop wasn't due to a wall but rather a middle-aged man with fair brown hair, pale blue eyes, and a thick mustache.

Your eyes widened in surprise at the sudden collision. The sight of your reaction caused the man’s own eyes to mirror your expression. It was hard not to feel ashamed and timid as he took his time gawking.

Turning away, you focused on a rich blue version of the journal you already had. The urge to hide from his stare behind your glasses tugged at your heart while your fingers shakily grasped the journal. The look in his eyes reminded you of men so sinister they transcended the bounds of the moniker.

“Do not be ashamed, leibling.”

The roughness in his aged voice was oddly laced with a smooth layer of reassurance. The warm blood flowing in your veins halted at the term of endearment. He caught onto your surprise and gave a sigh of acknowledgment.

“I can always tell a beauty from the motherland. Far too many have been running away here. Though that would make me a hypocrite, no?”

You looked at the unnerving man. Keeping silent would only do you more harm than good.

“I was not sure I was so noticeable.”

You didn’t want to be. You never were. All you wished was to be in those lush fields you saw on your way here. Away. Far away from the watchful eyes of those gray memories.

“I am not here to stay. Business trip with my brother.”

The sound of your stutters in your mother tongue made you cringe. It had been so long since you’d had a lasting conversation with someone in German. The only times you ever practiced it consistently were in your writings and mutterings to yourself. Erik stopped using it with you a few years after you turned your back on Auschwitz. Only in anger did the tongue of your lineage emerge.

The man took in your answers, stepping closer into your personal space.

“Ah, I am impressed with a man serving his people. The ones of true worth, not those cowards letting our land be split apart by those Americans and communists.”

You could feel the spit and hatred mix together as he spoke. The tubes stationed within your throat felt constricting. The work and people the man was referring to sickened you. It disgusted you that you could so easily be mixed up with your torturers. Self-hatred settled itself on the six inked numbers on your left forearm.

“Your father, where was he stationed?”

The dark numbers and darker memories felt as if they would burn their way through your thin sleeves and lies. The gulp in your throat reverberated through your weak, trembling body.

“Auschwitz.”

Your tone was as grave as the site. As grave as the one your father deserved instead of the trick of a shower. Muscles around your eyes yearned to twitch. Your forearm felt as if it were being carved all over again, this time with shame instead of ink.

An amused laugh scratched its way past his lips. He cackled.

“A man of honor. Tell him and your brother to visit the bar just outside of town. He shall be met with the last men of purpose.”

The contents of the aisle spun around your vision as the man clasped your shoulder and walked past. There would be no need to tell Erik of the small bar. You knew he was already there and would be the last man to leave alive. So much for those great “men of honor.”

Maybe if you had even tried to shift your focus onto anything else, you wouldn’t have had a mountain of emotion embodying itself on your shoulders. But you had given up on that battle a long time ago. The last time you tried, you nearly split your brain physically in half.

In the meantime, you tried to walk out of the shop quietly, but you heard the splintering of the wooden door as your panic did what it does best—ruining its surroundings. You had no choice but to run to your small hotel room, as if any slower steps would leave you sinking into the earth. A new place on the wide planet, the same stares and distress.

Making it to your room, you should have known better than to collapse on your bed, as it did just that—collapse beneath the weight of your turmoil. You could feel the pricks of wood and springs, but you could focus on healing later. Right now, all your mind could replay were insistent flashbacks. That man from the store shape-shifted in your memory to endless faces of torturers. The countless men and women who looked at your small body, not as a child, but as a simple experiment.

Number 214783.

Screams ripped past your resistant cords as scratch after scratch cemented themselves temporarily into the permanent mark of your worth. Of your place.

It was several hours later, in the darkness of night, when your gravitational sense felt a resistance. A resistance that naturally came after one of your breakdowns. And as always, it was Erik who was trying to push against your invisible walls.

You made no move to open the door he was so insistent on bending to his will through mere strength. The room was pitch black, and you were covered in debris when Erik finally managed to get through the stiff gravity. He didn’t need to turn on the lights to know what he would see. Yet, the artificial lighting burned your retinas anyway.

“Whatever this is, it isn’t healthy. Why don’t you let me help you, Liebling?”

The nickname made you flinch—a movement visible as the debris surrounding you did a little shake in apprehension. You manipulated your gravity to ease yourself onto your feet and look around at yet another mess you caused. You could feel a bit of stabbing in your shoulders from wooden splinters, but those were quickly sorted out as you used your mutation to clean the chaos out of your body and off the floor. With too much ease from too much practice, you were able to get the bed back into a condition good enough for use. You really wished you’d gotten the journal before you had your breakdown.

“Y/N—”

“Is this what my life is?”

Erik Lensherr is not a man of many words, but that does not mean he gets speechless. He seldom does, but this was one of the rare moments. You stared out the window at the dim lighting dancing in the town center.

“Just following you around, doing all the real work while I sit here and destroy everything I touch?”

“That can be controlled. You losing your life cannot. We’ve talked about this before, and the answer is still no.” Erik’s firm voice only seemed to infuriate you further. Is this what the edge felt like?

“What life?! I am sick of being sick! I am getting hurt doing nothing; at least let me do so while doing something worthwhile.”

“You are doing something worthwhile by making sure Mama’s daughter lives! I am not disappointing her by letting you do something so reckless.”

This was meant to make you back down. Echoes of the same message from all the years flowed through your ears, but all you could hear was the ringing of anger and a migraine.

“You speak of making her proud? How about I avenge her?! She was my mother too!”

“I can do it enough for the both of us!”

You could feel the metal shake before you saw it happen around you. The keys, the lights, that accursed coin. The look of horror on your face snapped Erik out of his fit of anger, bringing him back to his senses—a trait of his you have always been envious of.

There was no more point in arguing. There didn’t feel like much point to anything lately. You laid down gently on the bed this time, not even bothering with the blanket, simply turning your back to the one person who claimed to love you.

“Liebling. Please, I am only worried about you.”

You left his confession to mingle with your silence as you closed your eyes. It would only be a matter of time before Shaw would have to face the Lensherr wrath. Not just Erik’s, but as you swore to yourself, yours too.

.・。.・゜✭・.✫・゜・。..✭・.✫・゜・。.

Turns out that moment came far sooner than expected. After yet another trip, you expected it to be one that blended into all the others. That was until you caught onto the tension surrounding your brother. You kept your eyes down on the small book you managed to snatch from the lobby downstairs. In the corner of your eye, you saw him in a fully black outfit, seemingly ready for a swim. He grabbed an overcoat, and before he left the room without saying a word about his whereabouts, he turned to you.

“Tonight, we make our parents proud.” He closed the door in your face.

You had only moments for action. He was right. You both would make your parents proud.

One look at your outfit and it was clear you did not plan for the assassination of a former Nazi official. With a sleek pair of brown slacks and a black turtleneck, you were at least grateful it was dark and warm enough for the cold night air.

Erik’s tall frame was easy enough to follow, though his constant scouring behind him and around made it a constant game of hide and (hopefully) no seeking. After the 20-minute chase, the ultimate destination presented itself. A lit-up yacht was lounging restfully upon the languid water. A deep breath, a jump, and Erik landed in the water. Not a moment was wasted as he made his way through the cold, dark liquid. If he was making his way, then you needed to.

All you wanted to do was scream as the temperature began seeping into your veins, but if you stood around in discomfort, it would overcome you. You didn’t have much experience swimming, but you used your mutation to glide without much hardship.

The megaboat presented itself far too quickly for your taste, as did Erik’s jump onto the surface. A man so focused was rare to see, but it was clear, even from your lowered position, that only one thing was playing in his brain. You swam to the very edge of the boat by the ladder, and that’s where you witnessed the knives being pulled by your brother. Even more so, the symbol engraved on it. Sebastian Shaw was going to die by his own legacy.

You had just jumped onto the boat when Erik’s frame entered the boat lighting and Shaw’s sight.

“Herr Doktor.” The man—the monster—had finally come face-to-face with his own monstrous creation. No fear seemed to present itself in his voice, though, as he only greeted Erik with an odd surprise of delight.

“Little Erik Lensherr.”

Even though the knife was on full display, his blonde companion was quick to broadcast his intentions. “He is here to kill you… and he isn’t alone.”

Well, that wasn’t planned. With no choice but to come out, you realized that you were grossly unprepared. You brought no weapon other than your mutation’s unpredictability. Though, as you came face-to-face with the man who had haunted every thought you’ve had since you were six, you were certain that a chaotic outburst wasn’t too far away. Hopefully, you could aim it this time. As surprised as Shaw was, it was nothing compared to Erik’s surprise. Maybe you should have just stayed at the hotel.

“Ah! Two makes a party! It’s a shame that, even grown up, you haven’t learned manners. Come on now, this is not the type of greeting. After all these years?”

Suddenly, piercing scratches engraved their way through your ear canals and into your brain. Sounds of drilling, shrieks, and electricity all began buzzing and mixing together as one face came into focus: Sebastian Shaw and his sick satisfaction at your torture, which he labeled “experiment.” You noticed Erik was on his knees yet broke free and took his chance by throwing the knife, guiding it through his own mutation. This break of focus by Emma Frost gave you liberation of your own mind and the opportunity to strike.

As Emma flung Erik over the boat’s edge, you took your time to fight back. In her diamond form, you swung into the air, hitting no target with your physical knuckles but using the gravity around her to make your impact, seeing a satisfying crack in her diamond coating.

“Well! Young Y/N fighting back!” Shaw's disgustingly gleeful voice rang through the air, distracting you just enough for Emma to nearly repeat the same move she used on your brother. But you were fast. Grabbing her arm, you used a few moves you managed to learn from Erik's very limited fighting lessons. Kicking her firmly in the stomach was enough to deceive you into believing you had a chance—until coast guard lights began lighting up your scene. Even with spotlights on you, you weren't going to let your shot at Shaw miss.

You fully lunged for the despicable man, until suddenly your feet were no longer touching the ground. Looking down, you saw the boat at least 40 feet below you, and as you turned your head upwards, you were met with a devilish face snarking back at you.

“He doesn't need two of you.”

You were no stranger to pain. Crushing, slicing, and even nerve-shocking pain were unfortunate realities of your mutation. But the feeling of stabbing was different—not a thousand little pricks, but a clean slice across your stomach. As was the sensation of it being ruptured and invaded by the dropping air, as the grip on the front of your black sweater let go. You could hear metal rampaging through the yacht, knowing Erik was doing what he was bred for: pain and destruction. While you were doing what you were bred for: failure embodied on a chopping block.

Your mutation worked instinctively to protect you from death upon impact, but the frigidness seeped into your wounds as crimson began coating the already dark waves. Even with the softened impact, your lungs still had the air knocked out of them, which you naturally gasped to regain, yet only took gulps of salty water flavored with copper blood.

Eyes closed, your connection to Erik was still too strong. The connection to all the forces was too strong. You could feel the submarine slipping away, along with your consciousness. If death already had you in its grasp, you might as well play your last laugh in life.

With every last cell marked with the pesky X-gene, you bent gravity to your will to lift the submarine. Slowly, the ocean's grip on the metal contraption began loosening as it was exposed to the night air. It was becoming excruciating as the salt penetrated your exposed flesh and water filled your lungs as you began laughing. You were happy you were in the water when the tears came. At least when Mama saw you, she wouldn't be able to tell the tear stains. If you died laughing, maybe Erik would somehow hear it through the ocean's enveloping waves. At last, you would be at peace. The darkness that overtook your eyes then overtook all your senses, leaving you an unconscious hope drifting at sea.

.・。.・゜✭・.✫・゜・。..✭・.✫・゜・。.

Charles Xavier has known humanity more intimately than potentially any human before. Yet that fateful night in 1962 was one that changed his perspective on it more than any of the prior decades of his telepathic existence.

All he was meant to do was invade the mind of one Sebastian Shaw, help with world peace, and get started with his teachings as an official professor. Though, nothing worthwhile in life is planned. When Charles realized that the water was not free of occupants, he rushed to save Erik from drowning himself. Until he realized that there was a soul drowning beneath the waves and one suffocating above in the night air.

“Oh my God,” a horrified Moira could only gasp as two figures levitated above in the moonlight before one simply poofed away while it seemed a girl dropped at a concerning speed. In an instant, Charles made a plan and prayed that it would work for the lives of the two strangers and his own conscience. The water was unwelcoming to Charles as it clung to him, trying to drag him down, but he was defiant as he latched onto the tall man in front of him.

“You can't! You'll drown! You have to let go. I know what this means to you, but you and your sister are going to die. Please, Erik, calm your mind.”

The sensation was all uncomfortable and intrusive to Erik, but the one thing that made him refuse all his instincts to keep going was the mention of his beloved sister, you. The two men emerged from the icy domain of the water, and as all questions of who this strange voice in his mind was, Erik had only one thing on his mind:

“Where is she?!”

Very distantly, Charles could feel the last grasp of consciousness and knew time was of the utter essence.

“She is not far, but we have no time to lose. Can you pull her with your ability?”

Out of breath and in far too many layers of confusion and panic, Erik had no hesitation as he stuck his hand out, praying you had enough metal upon you for Erik to use. Thankfully, you decided to wear the very first necklace Erik had gifted to you after your escape for Hanukkah. It was a small necklace with a few charted stars. It was stolen, that much you could assume due to your financial standing, but you had kept it dear to your heart and chest for all these years.

Erik clung to the feeling of its magnetic pull and called it to him. His frozen blue eyes were manically wide as he kept out for any sign of you. While he worked on bringing you forward with his mutation, Charles dove back in. Back into the dark abyss of the water and your unconscious mind.

It was rare for the mind to be a silent place. Even when he was younger, accidentally invading someone's dreams was never a quiet sensation. Yet again, Charles had never been in the brain of an unconscious soul. He didn’t want the list of firsts to continue with the feeling of losing a life in his arms. Faster, deeper, he went at full speed, chasing that faint buzzing of your brain. As he got further below the surface, you got closer to it. The small and dainty necklace was unnaturally the levy to your entire being when Charles grabbed your faint body in his arms and swam to the surface with a hunger for air. With each stroke, he tried to enter your mind, begging you to wake.

Within a few moments, the two of you were back in the realm of oxygen as Erik met you. Charles quickly switched you into Erik’s arms as the three of you made it to the CIA boat. Erik had no reason to trust the man in front of him except for the fact that he saved your lives and that he may be like you. A mutant.

Even before your body was lain on the ground, Charles' urgent pleas for medical aid rang through the icy air. Erik's reddened hands were covered in crimson while his cheeks were covered in tears.

“Liebling, please. Please! Bitte!”

Erik hadn’t pleaded in 17 years. It was a foreign taste to his tongue, but he would make it go numb if it meant you no longer would be. You weren’t the one meant to die today. Erik was going to surprise you. Just one last ticket. This time, wherever you want to go. Forever. Start your life. It was supposed to be the beginning. Now why is it the end?

It was hard for Charles to focus when Erik's thoughts nearly drowned out the faint buzzing of your consciousness. All he wished to do was calm Erik's mind, but any second spent on him was one second closer to death for you. With a hand on his forehead and one brushing the hair away from your face, Charles clung onto that small sliver in your brain.

It was a fountain. Not too grand, but with the way the water sparkled and mirrored the surrounding gothic buildings, it made quite the spectacle. The weather was warm yet not hot, aided by the slight breeze. Floral scents wafted through the air, mixed in with the fountain and fresh bread from a bakery close by. Charles knew he was in a memory of yours with the way he felt the emotions you did: joy, contentment, and hopefulness. He knew it was a memory because above all those emotions, the one of aching presented itself painfully.

Fingers were intertwined with his. He finally moved his eyes away from the fountain and to the point of connection. Your hands didn’t clench to him. Instead, his did to you. Yours were grasping until the point your knuckles were white, with the hand of a woman. She looked youthful and beautiful, though there was a strain in her eyes. A sadness she entrapped, only visible in the reflection of the sparkling water fountain. You faced forward, but the look of wonder was infected with confusion at Charles’s additional presence. The fingers in his began to move, brushing with his. The woman to your right, who you assumed to be your mother, sighed lovingly and pulled your hand toward her as she tried to move. You were frozen.

“Es ist Zeit zu gehen, meine Liebe.”

Her voice was honey-sweet and a long-sought comfort. Charles noticed how your knees bent to move and your finger pointed to follow.

“Y/N, come back to us.”

Your fingers were now tracing the inside of his palms, as if trying to follow a map. Once again, you made no effort to move, but Charles did. He tugged your hand gently to gain your attention, though it didn’t work as your eyes still traced the glorious movements of the falling water in front of you.

“Y/N, wir müssen gehen, Erik wartet.”

Your name sounded so pretty with its proper pronunciation from the woman who had given it to you. The language was still foreign to Charles, but it was your mind, so you could make sense of it, and by association, so could he. A tug once more to your clasped hand.

“Erik is this way. He needs you.”

Your eyes flinched as Charles saw more life and confusion dance behind them. Turning your head, you saw your mother. Her patient smile, crinkled crow's feet, and jubilant hair you always loved to play with when doing dress-up with her. She was everything you longed for. A near step in her direction was too close for Charles.

He placed a hand upon your shoulder, and only then did he finally get the privilege of being witness to such a sight of beauty. You turned your head and knew instantly that this was not a product of your mind. It could never produce such a sight as Charles Xavier’s eyes. The longer the stare was held between you two, the more you felt it all. The gravity of the water, the birds slicing through the air, and a faint pain growing stronger in your stomach. You looked down at it and saw the red staining the milk-white dress you donned. Back to those deep orbs, who seemed to beg you to tug back. Slowly, you started to hear the pleas of a man echoing through the memory. It sounded eerily similar to Erik.

“Y/N.”

At the same time, your mother’s comforting and Charles’s intriguing voices called for you. Your hands were outstretched in front of the fountain as the sun began to set. You felt as the skin began to break apart as the cut deepened. Erik’s voice was as persistent as that never-ending flowing fountain. It was odd—not being able to feel another’s heartbeat, but Charles’s beating so rapidly. Your mother’s didn’t beat at all.

The young man knew just how tempted you were to let go of his grasp. The soliciting pathway out of the tribulation so filled with sorrow was hard to resist, more so for you. All it had been since this near-decade-old memory was a sea of despair. Charles swore to himself that if he was able to get you back, it would not follow that pattern. He was in your mind, but it seemed you were in his as well, as you looked at him as he took his vow. A silence between you two as more voices joined the now urgent shouts of Erik and the maelstrom of metal bending. Your fingers clutched your mother’s as she gave you a loving smile. It was returned with glossy eyes.

“Erik is waiting for me, mama.”

Your fingers finally fully intertwined with Charles’s as you let go of the woman you thought of every night. Once again, your eyes were caught in his orbit as everything became far sharper and more tangible. The sounds of the falling water droplets of the fountain were the last of the memory to dissipate when your eyes finally opened.

A ragged and painful breath was signal enough for Erik as he lifted his head from your shoulder in disbelief.

“Liebling!”

Charles stepped back to give you room but noticed your hands were intertwined in reality, just as they had been in your mind. You looked around and met at least half a dozen pairs of eyes staring down at you, and a pair of gloved hands trying to catarize your stomach in a fashion that made you queasy.

Erik grasped your face to look at it, but you pushed his hands away, along with the young man trying to heal you. If you could, you would have pushed everyone far enough away so you could do your own healing in seclusion, but you did not have such privilege. Eyes slipping closed, your hands rested on your stomach as you sped up your blood clotting process. The cut was diagonal, long, and deep, but with years of practice on much smaller cuts, you were able to manage a speedy procedure that fully stopped any external bleeding. Then came the painful part. You looked forward, past a certain brunette woman’s curious eyes, as you held back grunts of pain. Charles watched in amazement and intense worry as your skin was being pulled at an unusual pace toward the other ripped half, unnaturally closing securely. After one internal check of everything in order with your gift of gravity, you let out a shaky breath, dreading what was to come next.

“That was extraordinary.”

To your left, the man from your mind was there. He was real, yet still not out of your brain as you heard him. He gave you a charming and compassionate smile at your confusion.

“I am just like you. You are not alone.”

You were given no opportunity to respond, nevertheless comprehend what had all happened when Erik forcibly turned your sore body towards him.

“Was dachtest du, was du da macpymhst?!” The words didn’t need to be elaborated to any of the operatives, which many could already translate, to know they were not ones that you were eager to answer. Their expectations coming true as you lifted yourself up, with generous aid by the man you for some reason wanted to call Charles. Erik’s eyes were wide and frantic as he examined you and your shivering form. He had nothing to give you of warmth, but Charles did. Wordlessly, he offered you his coat, and yet another staring match; you took it with a shy smile. As if there was a conversation between the two of you that the rest were not privy to. He suggested that all of you go inside and shelter away from the cold, an offer you gladly took as it took you away from Erik. Though, of course, not for long.

“Y/N!”

You didn’t know where you were going, you simply walked the halls and back towards your brother. “I would simply like to rest, Erik, not now.” Looking past Erik’s burning stare, you addressed the young man who you just now noticed was as drenched as you and Erik. “Do you have anywhere we can rest? We will be gone by dawn, I swear.”

You had no idea how you would do that and where you would go from here, but that was an issue for tomorrow. If you could, you would have demanded to be taken to shore and out of the way of whoever these people were, but you were simply too exhausted. The young man stepped forward, his accent as smooth and refined as silk.

“Actually, we would prefer you to be here by sunlight. We would like you to stay, join us. You two are not the only ones. You are not alone.”

You finally looked at Erik, albeit with apprehension, and he did the same as he tried to understand what the still unintroduced man was saying. It seemed to hit him then (or did he peer into your minds? Was that his ability?).

“Ah, I am so sorry, I fear I have been too distracted to properly introduce myself. Charles Xavier.”

He first held out his hand for you, that smile ever-present. You took it cautiously but he returned with understanding. He turned to Erik, who, to your surprise, took it. An enthusiasm radiated in the air surrounding Charles.

“This is Agent Moira MacTaggert and fellow CIA agents—”

“The CIA?”

A panic rang through your voice. You were raised to trust no one, nevertheless the government. Any kind. You remembered the last time you got caught up. You were beginning to question whether or not Charles was a telepath or empath, as he knew exactly what to ease your worries, somewhat.

“The mutant division. We are after Shaw just as you are. Now you just don’t have to be on your own.”

Moira nodded from behind him in confirmation while Charles was focused on Erik, seemingly knowing he was the decision-maker between the two of you. Clearly, there was a conversation between the two in the sphere of the mind. Yet, whatever Charles had said must have been meticulously crafted as Erik did something against his very nature. He took Charles’s hand and agreed to join along with whatever this was. Then it was his turn to brush past you and deeper into the boat.

Considering you were all in a metal boat that he could easily crush like a tin can, it was no surprise a short man with glasses and a black suit followed along with the pretty Moira. That just left you and Charles.

“I apologize for the intrusion, though that was a beautiful memory. I can see why you thought of it.”

His words were soft and genuine. You knew mutants were oddities, but Charles seemed the oddest of them all. A rarity within rarities.

“You saved my life.” The words were blunt but didn’t offend Charles in the slightest.

“I would say you saved your own life. You made the choice.”

Charles took your processing time to take you in. Your hair was drenched and knotted yet somehow looked perfectly styled for your prettily reddened cheeks and nose and sparkling eyes. His bones were freezing but, to him, it was worth it. He would be willing to suffer the cold into the morning if he could ensure you would be there. Just a glimpse into your mind, and Charles wanted to indulge more. This was a sensation he had never felt before. His own cheeks grew red, not out of bitter wind but out of embracing heat as he thought of how Raven would tease him mercilessly if she saw him now.

Clearing his throat, he gestured for you to follow him.

“You can rest in this room tonight. I will tell Moira to bring you a change of clothes to ensure you don’t get a case of hypothermia. Rest as much as you need, truly.”

You looked inward at the small but functional room. You turned back and noticed the intense gaze of those crystal eyes.

“I don’t know what to say.”

If only you had a dollar for every time he had flashed that ever-present smirk at you.

“A ‘goodnight’ should suffice quite nicely.”

A slight smile began to grow on your lips. “Goodnight, Charles.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

.・。.・゜✭・.✫・゜・。..✭・.✫・゜・。.

translations:

Liebling - darling

Bitte - Please

Es ist Zeit zu gehen, meine Liebe - It's time to go, my love

wir müssen gehen, Erik wartet- we have to go, Erik is waiting

Was dachtest du, was du da macpymhst?! - What did you think you were doing?!

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kilarthmac · 1 year ago

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Let's talk about Caelum.

I'm gonna preface this with saying that everyone is entitled to their opinions, and if once you're done reading this you decide you don't want to follow me or you want to block me, that's completely up to you. I'm not trying to change your opinion or attack anyone who has a different one than mine, I just wanted to put my two cents out there.

I also wanted to say that whatever your opinion on the matter is, it's yours and yours alone, and you should respect the opinions of other people even if they don't match up. I personally do not sexualize Caelum, but I do think he is an adult with childlike characteristics, and those two statements are not mutually exclusive. He can be an adult, but he also doesnt have to be put in adult situations.

It's okay to have strong feelings one way or the other about this topic, but it is not okay to harass people or go on a witch hunt for those with the opposite opinion to give them shit about what they think. If you disagree with someone and do not want to see their stuff on your timeline, just block them or scroll away. You alone are responsible for your own dash, you cannot make other people responsible for what you see on your timeline.

All that being said, I do not like how the fandom treats Caelum and Empathy Daemons in general.

My stance on the matter is that Empathy Daemons as a whole are adults, but because of how E'Laetum created them, they tend to have childlike characteristics. Those who say that Empathy Daemons are ALL children blatantly ignore the fact that Regulus is an Empathy Daemon as well, and that he has been shown to have adult tendancies (his BA, getting possessive over his charge, etc) while also maintaining his childlike characteristics (telling his charge a bedtime story to sleep, having a very one dimensional view of himself and his charge, etc). This is where I have a problem whenever I see people try to say that all Empathy Daemons are children. Regulus is clearly an adult. There is no "reading between the lines" about this.

Caelum is also an Empathy Daemon, but he is a very different character than Regulus. He is a lot more childlike compared to Regulus. He gets his words mixed up, he likes sweets, he likes hugs, etc. But in his most recent video (Your Bakadere Empathy Daemon Friend Visits You), even he says that he almost went down a path similar to Regulus' until Delphinus stepped in and assigned him to Freelancer, and that stopped him from falling (timestamps from 2:40 - 3:18, and 8:45 in that video). It may be uncomfortable for some people to think of Caelum as going down the same path that Regulus did, but this video clearly shows that he had the potential to. Caelum and Regulus are not as different as one may think.

Erik has also said himself that D(a)emons step out of the Elision Well as adults and they do not age. Of course they don't know everything so they still have to learn, but that's not the same as being a child. On top of the most recent Redacted 101 video, take this screenshot from Wonderworld (previously Redacted Records, when Erik was still in the server) from 2020, where Erik talks about how D(a)emons coalesce.

He even mentions how in earlier Caelum videos he didn't know what he wanted the d(a)emon life cycle to be yet, and that's why he had Caelum state that he was a "kid daemon" at one point.

Not to mention the fact that in the official timeline, it shows that Caelum coalesced in 1999, and is even older than Damien.

At the end of the day, Caelum is a fictional character. Whatever someone ends up deciding to make of him is their choice, this is a fandom after all. If it really bothers you to see what certain people make, block them and move on. DO NOT berate them for their headcanons or fanart or whatever else. People are allowed to have their own headcanons, make their own fics, and draw their own fanart. This is a fandom space, and people are allowed their creative liberties.

Anyways, that has been my two cents. Feel free to voice your opinions in the comments if u want to, but please please be respectful and don't attack anyone.

TLDR; I don't sexualize Caelum but I do think he and all Empathy Daemons are adults (ex: Regulus), everyone should respect everyone else's opinions and just block what they don't want to see on their timelines, and the fandom needs to chill out lol

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted audio caelum #redacted caelum #redacted fandom

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sweet-self-indulgence · 9 months ago

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Hey love your work! can you write some Mika x James smut please im desperate! <3 Hope you have a wonderfull day <3

Thank you! <3

Once I got started on this James seemed to write himself! I can't be bothered to edit right now, so look for a cleaner version on AO3 in a couple of days.

According to plan

How is Mika going to get the attention she craves from James? Maybe she needs a plan, or maybe spontaneity will win the day.

Mika sighs and flicks sand with her toe. James has his nose stuck firmly in his latest book, all but ignoring the beautiful seaside.

It wouldn’t be so bad that it’s how he wants to spend his beach time if it weren’t for the fact he’s been acting like a manager for the whole trip. Of course he’s been good at it too. Every day has been a perfect mix of activities. Enough time on the beach to have fun but not enough to get bored and sunburnt, fantastic local food for dinner, and excursions to stunning natural wonders.

Mika cringes at how selfish those thoughts make her feel. It really has been the perfect vacation, except for the fact she’s hardly spent any time with James. At first, she was happy to sit and read beside him, but she exhausted her reading material 2 days ago.

Another sigh escapes Mika as her mind wanders to the tall, dark-haired, too-smart-for-his-own-good love interest from her novel. He had been very eager to spend time alone with the protagonist.

“Hey doofus!”

Her moment of pleasant distraction is shattered by Sam’s shout, “stop staring into space like a fish and come souvenir shipping with us!”

Mika rolls her eyes at Sam’s insulting simile, “It’s called ‘thinking’, Sam, you should try it sometime.”

James smiles behind his book, sharing his secret glee at Sam’s sputtering response in a quick glance at Mika. Her heart does a little flutter at his smile.

Before she can recover control of her body, James shouts towards his brothers, “Don’t take too long! We’re meeting in the lobby for dinner at 6!” and motions her off with a tilt of his head.

Mika misses the hungry gaze cast over the top of his book, watching her every movement as she stretches and pulls a sundress over her swimsuit.

After shopping and dinner, Mika, Erik, and Damien are star gazing from the rooftop bar of their hotel. Each has been lost in their own thoughts since the others have gone to bed, quietly watching more and more stars blink into existence in the darkening sky.

“You know,” Damien says after several minutes of silence, “James is very good at planning”

Erik and Mika make small noises in acknowledgement to Damien stating the obvious. He continues, “but even he can’t plan a … spontaneous moment”

Mika’s face heats at the absolutely lewd inflection he managed to pack into such an innocuous word. Erik fails miserably at stifling giggles beside her.

“Maybe that’s something you can help him with.” Damien finishes casually.

Mika shoots to her feet indignant but also suddenly desperate to see James. She had been thinking about him all day, imagining how he might sweep her off her feet at any given moment. More often than not said sweeping landed her in bed with him. The mere mention of his name triggered a fresh wave of want inside her.

She stalks off in a pretend huff. Erik’s teasing words ring in her ears “Have fun~”

Alone in the elevator she wonders what kind of fun James would want to have.

Mikas feet take her back to the hotel suite while her mind remains distracted by images of James.

Suddenly she’s standing in his empty room and all of her confidence evaporates in an instant. The door to the common area is ajar, did she open it? The lights are on, she’s pretty sure she didn’t do that.

James is nowhere in sight. Maybe that’s a good thing, she was too busy fantasizing to have any idea what she was going to say to him anyway. Mika turns to leave, resigned to try to take the edge off in the shower.

Mika’s exit is halted as she walks right into something. Hands are wrapped around her upper arms, keeping her from stumbling backwards.

Her focus snaps back to reality and onto James. His eyes are slightly wide in surprise. They’re almost hidden by damp black hair. A white towel drapes over his shoulders. His shoulders and arms are covered in a light blue satin pajama top that has yet to be buttoned.

Mika notices how her fingers are braced against the bare skin of his chest and her breath hitches.

James leans down until his nose is nearly touching Mika’s neck. He takes two slow, deep breaths. Each exhale sends shivers down her spine and sets her heart racing.

When he finally stands straight his pupils are wide. “You smell incredible”, his voice is quiet, but pitched deep, graveling against the bottom of his throat.

His words pull sharply at the need building inside of her. “I—I’ve been thinking about you.” Mika’s fingers move slowly up James’ chest.

Amber eyes seem to darken with James’ chuckle, “what have you been think that has you in such a …state?” His final word is accompanied by his heated gaze traveling slowly down Mika’s body.

Mika swears she can feel his eyes on her. Her nipples tighten as he gazes at her chest and an unbearable heat pulses between her thighs as he stared pointedly where she can feel wetness gathering in her bikini bottoms.

Mika can’t take the tension for one second longer. Her hands grab the back of James’ head and pull him down into a rough kiss. Her fingers roughly grip his damp hair as his tongue slides inside her mouth.

After a moment James straightens, “You know, It is quite improper for a young lady to be in a man’s bedroom so late at night.” His usual manners play with the flirtatious undertones of his words.

“What will people think?”, he continues.

Mika recognizes the out that he is giving her a chance to choose between the gentleman and the demon. A wicked grin breaks across her face, “They’ll think I’m the lucky girl who gets to fuck an incubus.”

Suddenly, Mika is pushed against the wall. She registers one of James’ hands under her ass while his hips pin hers. The other is gently guiding her jaw in a passionate kiss. Their mouths work in tandem for several long moments, every movement of James’ lips sends waves of heat crashing into her core.

When they finally break apart, flushed and panting, James’ eyes glow a warm gold. “May I?”

“Please” The word is barely out of Mika’s mouth before a warm tingling sensation rushes through her. The world slows as the enthrallment kicks in, Mika’s attention is focused solely on the demon between her legs, pining her to the wall.

His eyes look fierce without glasses to soften them. Mika wonders how far she can push him. She starts by grabbing the towel around his neck and tossing it to the floor. Then her hands find his chest again and slide his open shirt off his shoulders. James carefully shifts his hold on her to let it fall to the floor while keeping Mika off the ground.

She takes in his form approvingly, trying her best to replicate how his gaze made her feel. Her eyes lock onto a bulge in the satin on his pants. One hand drifts lazily down his stomach before groping lower. Mika gasps as he twitches in her hand. His head thuds against the wall next to hers as he groans out her name.

“James!” her voice sounds desperate in her ears. His teeth come to the thin straps on her shoulder. A hand mirrors the motion on her other side and her bikini top and sundress are pulled down below her breasts.

James wastes no time in lavishing her breasts. The gentle circles of his tongue send energy spiraling down between her thighs.

Mika squirms in pleasure, searching desperately for friction to sate the burning in her core. Her hips buck forward and she slides against James’ hip.

“Don’t move or I’ll drop you!” James growls around her nipple. But he does release her other breast and slides his fingers along her inner thigh. When they reach her bikini bottoms, nimble fingers untie the knots at each hip before throwing the garment away.

Mika gasps as the cool air moves against her folds.

James locks eyes with her as one finger traces agonizing patterns around her clit. Mika bites her lip, and moans as she does her best to repress the desire to squirm under his touch.

Mika is growing hotter and hotter. Energy swirls from everywhere in her body down to the small bundle of nerves James is teasing and back out again. Every cycle is more intense than the last and Mika feels she may lose her mind from the pleasure if it goes on much longer. She dares not move and become unsecure in James’ grasp, but she does have one more tool in her arsenal.

“R—Raestrao!” she cries as another ripple of pleasure radiates from her core.

The incubus shudders almost imperceptibly as he pants open-mouthed. Mika sees a dangerous glint in his eyes that sends new shivers down to where James’ fingers have halted.

Mika hooks her fingers into his waistband and pushes it down. James’ cock springs free and bounces against her folds. The pair gasp at the sudden sensation.

In an instant James’ head is pressed into her. Mika squeezes her walls around him. His lips pull back in a snarl as he thrusts quickly into her. Mika chokes on a gasp at the sudden fullness, reveling in the slight twinge in her muscles that she’d never be able to achieve alone.

She’s allowed one more moment to adjust before James starts pushing into her at a punishing pace.

Mika lets her head fall back against the wall; her eyes screwed shut as she’s flooded with wave after wave of pleasure. Her dull nails carve into the flesh of James’ back, earning her another deep groan.

James shifts his feet and nails her against the wall. Mika’s energy swirls violently in her body funneling down to where she and James are connected. For a moment everything is white, Mika is floating in an ocean of tingling pleasure.

Then a dam breaks and Mika is screaming for James. She’s not sure which names she’s using, maybe both. She distantly realizes she hears her own name too.

A moment later, the hotel room comes back into focus. James slowly slides out from her, then leans her against his chest as he walks towards the bed. They collapse onto it unceremoniously.

They remain a sweaty pile of tangled limbs and heavy breathing for several minutes. Eventually, James brushes the hair out of Mika’s face, “love?”

His voice sounds so uncertain. Mika reassures him with a long and tender kiss. Her hands trace gently over his scalp. They share a warm smile as they finally break apart.

“You know, you’re pretty loud when you want to be. What will people think?” Mika finally finds the words to tease James who promptly blushes.

Just as he opens his mouth the respond, Matthew’s voice echoes from the other side of the wall, “They’ll think ‘please shut up and let the rest of us get some sleep!’”

#seduce me otome #seduce me the otome #seduce me #seduceme #ask #fanfiction #seduce me fanfiction #james anderson #raestrao #james x mika

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bigautomaton · 1 year ago

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i wasn't tagged but i love these things hehe

literally go wild i don't know who specifically to tag but go ham, go hog wild, go silly mode

Starting a picrew chain because I'm bored as hell

here is the picrew :)

And a not entirely accurate Luigi <3

A silly goofy fact for you all<3: All of my shirt collars give or take a few shirts are chewed up like that lmao

I'm tagging (but if you want to join go ahead<3): @fvcking-stupid-666 @dawntones & @acetheidiotinacloset

#stop ignoring your responsibilities erik #embracing my shitty little pcos mustache #also started wearing turtlenecks again so take that how you will

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rulettebitch · 5 months ago

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A part of us

Once, you and Charles Xavier were everything to each other—now, he’s a ghost at your door, stirring old wounds. But Logan’s words, raw and real, confessed a truth you couldn’t ignore. Torn between betrayal and confession, who do you choose when your heart is split in two? (This is Charles Xavier x Reader x Wolverine fanfic, with multiple endings)

... │Chap 10 │Chap 11 │Chap 12 │Chap 13 │Chap 14 │...

Chapter 11

You were conscious, but your body felt heavy, immobile. The weight of what had happened pressed down on your chest, your heart aching with a dull, relentless throb. The image of the man lying lifeless on the ground flashed in your mind, and you squeezed your eyes shut, refusing to let them open. You didn’t want to wake up, not yet. Not when you knew you’d have to face the aftermath—the guilt, the questions, the shattered pieces of your own morality. What have you become?

The hum of the jet’s engines surrounded you, and faint voices filtered through the haze in your mind. You realized you were seated, the conversation in the background slowly coming into focus.

“Professor…?” Logan’s voice broke through the silence, rough and hesitant.

“Nobody calls me that,” Charles replied, his tone clipped, almost defensive.

“Charles…” Logan tried again, his voice lower now, more deliberate. “Don’t you want to know why I’m here? Don’t you see how different I am from the man you know?”

Charles didn’t respond, but you could feel the tension in the air, thick and unspoken.

“From where I come from,” Logan continued, his words measured, “Erik… put you in that chair.” Charles stiffened, his jaw tightening. “But here… you can walk.”

“You’re perceptive,” Charles said coldly, though his voice carried a flicker of something deeper—pain, maybe, or resentment.

“I was sent here for you,” Logan said, his tone unwavering. “The person who sent me… was you. About fifty years from now.”

“I sent you here… from the future,” Charles repeated, his voice tinged with disbelief. He sounded as though he were trying to convince himself it wasn’t real.

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. You could almost feel the weight of Logan’s words pressing down on Charles, on all of you.

“We should discuss this later,” Charles finally said, his voice quieter now, almost cautious. “y/n could wake up at any moment. We wouldn’t want to startle her.”

Logan’s response was lower, edged with something that sounded like warning. “From where I come from, she doesn’t just kill one man, Charles. Don’t be too harsh on her. Your words… they matter more than you think.”

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. Logan’s words echoed in your mind, each one a hammer strike. He came from the future. You killed more people. The thought was a jumble of confusion and dread. What did he mean? How close was he to you in that future? Close enough to know what path you were already walking? Close enough to know what Charles might say to push you over the edge?

You heard Logan’s footsteps approaching, the sound deliberate and steady. He sat down beside you, close enough that you could feel the heat of his presence. His arm brushed against yours, and your eyes flew open, startled. You quickly feigned waking up, hoping they hadn’t noticed.

“You okay?” Logan asked, his voice low and gruff but laced with concern.

Charles was watching you, his expression a mix of worry and something colder, something you couldn’t quite place. His eyes bore into you, and for a moment, you felt exposed, as if he could see right through you. What had Logan meant about Erik putting Charles in a wheelchair? What had happened while you were gone?

You nodded weakly in response to Logan’s question.

“I feel… dizzy,” you murmured.

“It happens sometimes,” Logan said, his tone almost reassuring. He looked at you with an understanding that made your chest tighten. He knew. He knew what it felt like to kill, to carry that weight. And somehow, that made it worse.

A tear escaped before you could stop it, rolling down your cheek. Logan didn’t hesitate. He pulled you into a hug, his arms strong and steady around you. You broke then, the sobs tearing through you, raw and unfiltered.

“I didn’t mean it,” you choked out, your voice trembling. “I killed him, Logan. I killed him, but I didn’t want to. I didn’t—”

“You couldn’t have known,” he said, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. “You did what you had to do.”

“I should’ve been faster,” you cried, your voice cracking. “I should’ve been more careful. I killed him, and I didn’t even know his name.”

Logan didn’t pull away. He held you as you wept, it was as if he’d done this before, as if he knew every tear, every shuddering breath. But even as you clung to him, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Charles’ gaze on you. Studying. Assessing. As if you were meant to be crying on his shoulder instead.

Something had shifted. Something had changed.

#x-men #charles xavier #charles xavier x reader #Charles Xavier x oc #x reader #james mcavoy smut #James McAvoy ff #james mcavoy x reader #james macvoy ff #x men days of future past #wolverine #wolverine x reader #charles xavier x reader x wolverine #Hugh Jackman #Hugh Jackman x reader #Hugh Jackman ff #wolverine ff

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bigautomaton · 1 year ago

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Vast Avatar concept who just picks up east coasters or europeans from the Kansas City airport and drives them to Denver without leaving I70.

It's almost a perfect straight drive west.

Once you get past Salina or Hays there's that dawning horror that it's so flat you can watch your dog run away for a week. Yeah, you'll start to see the mountains when you get closer to the state line but at that point how are you certain those are real? Maybe the car turns around in Goodland and you're back driving east on I70.

Let's bring back Prairie Madness

#stop ignoring your responsibilities erik #tma #the magnus archives #the magnus pod #the vast #man this might as well become my sona i LOVE roadtrips #I drive almost 2 hours in a straight line through farmland just for antiques #And for reference the state of Kansas is larger than England alone #it's larger than most european countries #the drive to denver from KCI is almost 9 hours #I've done that drive and I live here and something changed in my brain #I don't think people are supposed to stare at the horizon that long #makes me feel like a big bird is gonna get me #different kind of lizard brain i think i am about to be eaten

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tayas-words · 8 months ago

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Can you write some Sam X reader smut? Or if you don't feel comfy writing smut, then fluff? I live your other one shots🩷

Awwe thank you I’m happy you liked my other one shots.

As of right now I don’t think I’ll be writing smut, I may allude to it or you guys can ask me for like specific questions about head canons that are nsfw but that’s as far as I’m comfortable with writing as of right now, thank you! And enjoy the fluff!

TW: angst then fuff . swearing

Now can I be yours?

BANG!

The mansion echoed as the front doors slammed shut. Only followed by silent sobs and sniffles as her heels ran across the floor to the stairs.

Sam furrowed his brows as he and Matthew stopped their game to see what was happening.

“What the fuck?” Sam spoke after a moment of silence.

“Derek stood her up again.” Damien chimed in. “And when he showed up he smelled like perfume.”

A growl erupted from Sam’s throat. He hated Derek with a passion, he had been Y/N’s boyfriend since their 2nd year of high school and he treated her horribly; always standing her up, ignoring her whole giving other women attention, even cheating on her.

But in Y/N’s mind, she deserved it. She wasn’t pretty enough or smart enough or tall enough, or whatever small reason she could come up with to justify not breaking up with him. Even though the boys had all privately spoken to her one-on-one about going to tell him off, she declined and said it was alright.

This time however, was the last straw. Tonight was their 5th anniversary, and Y/N was deveststed.

“Fuck this!” Sam raged as he got up from the couch.

“Sam what are you-“ Matthew couldn’t even finish his sentence before Sam was already in the lobby and up the stairs.

Just as Sam raised his fists to bang on the door, he halted as he heard muffled sobs coming from inside.

He knocked on the door lightly. “Doofus?” He waited for a response, hearing the sobs and sniffles stop suddenly.

“Come in.” Her hoarse voice called out.

He opened the door and sucked in a breath as he looked at her. The dress Erik had made for her specifically for tonight had been thrown across the room, she sat on her bed in oversized sweater Damien had lent her. Her eyes were darkened with sadness, already swollen and her cheeks were stained red from the tears, her makeup running down her cheeks.

All of that and to Sam she was beautiful.

“Please don’t.” She begged, already knowing what he was going to say.

“You have to break up with him already-”

“He loves me! He does! It’s my fault, I’ve been busy with university work and I haven’t been paying much attention to him!”

“That’s not an excuse! Fuck! if you were mine I wouldn’t care if you were busy! I’d be more than fucking happy to even spend a minute to see you!” He blurted out before he could stop himself.

The room was filled with a silence.

“You know what I meant Y/N. You deserve more than that…more than that bastard could ever offer you…” he muttered something underneath his breath that she couldn’t hear.

“I can’t lose him, he’s the…one I’ve been with for so long.”

“We’re sick of it, this, him, all of it. You go out all happy and then come back either alone and extremely upset or with Derek and you’re drunk. We’ve all seen the way he treats you, he has no respect for you.”

She shook her head. Not saying anything as she buried her chin into a pillow.

He was starting to get really annoyed. Let out a deep sigh he clenched his fist, “y/n! I’m serious! You deserve someone better, this isn’t a good relationship!” He raised his voice.

She flinched at his voice.

He hated how she did that, he hated that she was afraid of him when he raised his voice.

He sat down on the side of the bed in front of her.

Turning to look at her he lifted a hand to her face, making her look at him.

“I lo- I care about you a lot doofus. I hate seeing you hurt so much because of this dick. It isn’t right. I would treat you so much better.” He leaned closer to her, wiping away the rouge tears that fell down her cheeks.

Without another word he leaned over and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead, which confused the both of them just as equally. He stood up and left the room, knowing he’d do something he’d regret if he stayed.

A few days had past since that moment in Y/N’s room. They had been practically avoiding each other, well he’d been avoiding her, but he had taken notice to the fact that she hadn’t been going out all dressed up and fancy and Derek hadn’t been coming around the past few days. She had been trying to interact with the boys more.

They all sat in the living room, talking and laughing while watching a show, something they hadn’t done in a long time. Sam was happy to see her smile like that, she looked full of joy and comfort.

“Y/N! OPEN THIS DOOR! I KNOW YOU’RE HOME! OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR YOU BITCH I BET YOU’RE IN THERE FUCKING ALL OF THOSE GUYS! I KNEW YOU WERE A WHORE!” The happiness was short lived as Derek’s voice boomed from outside the front door.

Y/N’s eyes widen, she had been ignoring Derek’s messages since he stood her up. Thinking he’d get the hint.

All of the boys immediately stood up, but Sam, who was still in his police uniform, practically flew off of the chair he was sitting on. His super speed gave him an advantage of beating his brothers to the punch they’d all like to take on the douche.

“Get the fuck off our step.” He said, as calmly as he could while he gripped the doorknob so hard he felt it moulding under his grip.

“I want to see my girl-”

“No.”

“No? She’s mine! I demand-”

“NO! You don’t get to demand anything. You lost the right to call her yours- no, you lost the right to even fucking look at her!” He slowly let his demonic voice drip into his words, invoking enough fear to make Derek adjust his posture.

Derek let out a laugh, a laugh that made Y/N’s skin crawl at the sound of it. “I knew it. You’re fucking her aren’t you? I bet you and all of your brothers get in bed with her? She’s such a slut-” he was cut off as Sam pinned him to the column outside the door by his neck.

“You will never speak about her like that again. You do not deserve her. You are a cheating bastard who has no respect for women. There will be a special place in hell for you.”

His grip tightened.

“I don’t want to see you around Y/N ever again. If you even so much as look in her direction, I will have you arrested for stalking.” He snarled.

“Do you understand me? She’s done with you,” He threw him to the ground. “Now get off this property.” His eyes flickered red and his voice radiated anger.

Without another word, Derek scrambled up and tripped over his own feet as he got in his car and sped out of the driveway.

Sam growled as he took some deep breaths in before reentering the house.

“Sam! Are you okay?!” Y/N rushed uo to him, almost as if she thought Derek was going to harm him. She inspected his face for any scratches or bruises.

He let out a sigh of relief as he felt his hand reach his face. “I’m okay Doofus. Are you okay?” He placed his hand over hers.

She nodded and let out a breath. “What happened?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it, he won’t be bothering you anymore. You’re free from him.”

Without a word, she flew forward and wrapped her arms around his neck with a cheerful sob.

“Thank you.” She said as he encircled her waist with his arms.

“Let’s get you to bed, Doofus.” He lifted her up and they said goodnight to the others.

By the time he walked up to her bedroom, she had already began to doze off.

“Time for bed.” He lowered her onto her bed, plying her arms from around his neck.

“Stay with me, please, Sam.” She grabbed onto his sleeve as he went to walk away.

He swallowed. “Y/N you need to sleep.”

She whined, “please.”

He let out a chuckle, undoing the belt on his pants to be more comfortable. “Fine, just till you fall asleep, okay?”

Flopping down on the bed beside her, wrapping his arms around her pulling her close onto his chest he let out a deep breath.

“Goodnight doofus.” He placed a kiss on the top of her head. Only to hear slight snoring.

He let out a laugh as he slowly began dozing off. He pulled her closer.

Sam woke up from Y/N squirming as she slowly woke up from the sunlight peeking through the window.

“Mmnm” Sam mumbled as his eyes blinked open.

“Good morning..” Y/N muttered, burying her face into his chest.

“Morning Doofus.” He smiled as he breathed in her scent.

“Mmm..question..” she asked.

“Hmm?”

“Now can I be yours?”

Sam stuttered before recovering, thinking for a moment and smiling.

“Of course Y/N.”

#seduce me the demon war #seduce me the otome #seduce me sam #seduce me damien #seduce me erik #seduce me james #seduce me matthew

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dross-the-fish · 2 years ago

Note

Just pointing out that as a creator you do have some obligation to your audience. I notice a pattern with you where your responses are affectively "go find another artist" I find that dismissive of people who are upset about how you depict their beloved characters.

Your characters who aren't OCs belong to the fandom and the fandom has a right to correct you. Our comfort characters are not your toys. Artists of your caliber who also write aren't as common as you seem to think so it's not as easy as you think to "find another artist"

We came here for you. The least you can do is appreciate that. If everyone just left to "find another artist" your blog would be nothing. Have some fucking respect.

Ok, I've had a few asks like this and I've been mostly ignoring them but I think we need to have a conversation about "respect" since you're so concerned about it.

Most of the "criticism" I've gotten has been to the effect of "I believe Erik and Christine are in love," "I don't personally prefer your version of Hyde due to my subjective tastes" and "Adam is a helpless victim and Victor is evil," I've even had people complain that my design for Erik doesn't have enough hair. I don't think it's disrespectful of me to call these out as being shallow or based purely on preference rather than literary merit.

You're allowed to have these opinions and I'm allowed to disagree with you. And I do, I vehemently disagree with all of these. I have weighed and considered them and decided not to indulge them.

I'm not trying to be ungrateful but at this point my versions of these characters are my own creations and I have decided how much or how little I want them to deviate from canon. I'm sorry you don't feel like you can find another artist who's style you like but my work is what it is and I'm not changing it. People are either here because they enjoy what I make or they'll leave and if it happens one day that not a single person on tumblr enjoys what I make then I'll just delete this blog and I will go elsewhere to seek a new audience or maybe just stop sharing online all together.

I do appreciate everyone who is here and I think my regular followers and my mutuals are all lovely people that I enjoy seeing every day but people like you, anon, you make me feel like a vending machine that's getting kicked because I didn't stock the right candy. I know I'm also not the only artist on this platform who has been made to feel this way by people like you. I've known artists and writers who actively quit producing anything online because attitudes like yours made them lose their ability to enjoy sharing their creativity. So maybe you should consider having some fucking respect before you and everyone with your mindset drives creators off the platform.

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aftgsucks · 4 months ago

Text

NMFTG Ch 26

New Year New Me Still Dying

Neil actually explains things for once and tries to get Andrew to kill him again.

Ao3 Chapter under cut

“The pizzeria is run by a mob we know.”

“What?” Randy asked. The silence in the room was obnoxious. Well, maybe, just maybe, Neil had gotten a little too comfortable with saying whatever the fuck he wanted. Matt definitely hadn’t shared that aspect of exy with his very caring and worried mother.

“Haha,” Neil said out loud, releasing Matt and stepping back. “No, I’m fucking with you, it was closed though. Looked like a health code violation, you might want to not go back there.”

“A mob we know?” Randy asked. That would be the focal point, Matt lying to her.

“Yeah, sorry. That’s concerning to hear. Especially with,” Neil reached up and smeared the blood off his cheek. “Someone was throwing paint or something, at least I hope it was paint.” He made a grossed out noise. “No, I’ve just found the best way to deal with questions about, you know.” He gestured down to his torso. “Is to make up ridiculous stories, Matt got fixated on the mob one I told him.”

“Yeah mom,” Matt jumped in. “First he tried telling us it was an unbalanced diet.” Oddly helpful and steady, lying well by not lying at all.

“Before that he told us that he fought a bear,” Aaron said. They were almost there, the tension in her forehead smoothed out.

“Look it really could have been anything,” Neil shrugged. “It could just be a skin condition.”

Randy nodded, amused, her shoulders fully relaxing, air escaped in an ‘ah of course’ sort of way. She opened the pizza box and grabbed a slice.

It’s good to know he’s still got it.

Matt went to grab food too, shooting Neil a look that said he would be asking about this later.

“You little shit,” Aaron said in German. “What happened?” Apparently deciding to ask about it right then.

“Bad joke, don’t worry about it,” Neil lied in German. “Let me go wash this off.” He said in English.

“What happened?” Kevin asked in French.

Being multilingual was a mistake.

Neil ran a paper towel through the sink and scrubbed at his cheek, it came away dark red.

“Either I’ve solved half your problems or I’m dying next week or both, I don’t know.” Neil said in French as he tossed the paper towel into the trash.

“Stop being rude,” Nicky complained. “Neil still owes me a glass of champagne, we saved you one.”

“How did you even manage that?” Kevin asked in French.

Neil ignored him and went to immediately accept and down the plastic cup of champagne from Nicky, who cheered as he did so. Was Nicky helping on purpose? Or did he just want Neil to drink?

Neil pulled off his coat and shoes, he’d have to find a dry cleaner in Palmetto to get off the gunpowder residue, he wasn’t burning the coat Nicky gave him. He sat back down at the table and very pointedly asked Randy about new years resolutions.

She stayed up for another half hour before pleading old age and going off to her room. Matt raised the volume of the tv and then stared at Neil.

The champagne sadly hadn’t been enough to make the night less painful. He had just decided to start telling the truth a little more believably too. But now with a panel of expectant faces all wondering where the fuck he went that night and consequently what he’d meant by his little breakdown when he got back, the only thing in his head was the word escape.

He could maybe distract them long enough to avoid it. Neil glanced at Erik, the interloper, who raised an eyebrow in response.

“I assume this has to do with the mob bird team?” Erik asked. It was hard to say if he forgot the team was called the Ravens or was just trying to be funny.

“How much does he know?” Kevin asked Nicky.

“I tell him everything,” Nicky shrugged.

“You told him about the extremely sensitive and dangerous mob run exy team, the one that the mere knowledge of could result in all of us being killed?” Kevin’s face went pale.

“Yeah,” Nicky said. “Who says mere?”

Erik leaned over and pressed his lips to Nicky’s forehead, the movement easy and more intimate than any wild fantasy or incredibly detailed monologue about Neil’s ass that Nicky had ever spouted off. It left Neil more unsettled than the prospect of talking about his impromptu negotiations with the mob heir.

“How much incriminating evidence do you think Riko kept on his phone?” Neil redirected.

“Oh god what did you do?” Kevin asked.

Matt tapped his fingers along the table. “The Moriyama’s run my pizzeria?”

Neil shrugged. “Or they own whoever does. There was an execution going on when I walked in.”

They all froze, faces dropped from concern to panic. Except Kevin who put his head in his hands.

“What?” Neil asked.

“You walked in on them killing a guy?” Aaron asked.

“Yeah.”

“Are you okay?” Matt asked.

“What do you mean?” Neil was fine, he was upright and alive for at least another week. He hadn’t even gotten injured.

“You saw someone die.” Matt said as if that were a huge deal.

Hm.

Oh right, yeah. Or no, actually. Because they dragged Simone away unconscious but still living so Neil didn’t see shit this time. He did shoot him though so there was a 50/50 chance he killed that guy. Something told Neil that wouldn’t exactly be the calming information to his audience that it was to him. And also it was sort of beside the point.

“Matt, Nicky, Erik maybe—I don’t know what your life is like. I need the three of you to brace yourselves.”

“Oh god,” Nicky said, his hands grabbed onto the edge of the table.

Matt’s eyes somehow got wider.

Erik just seemed puzzled.

“I have no idea how many people I’ve seen die, but let’s not worry about that right now.”

Aaron groaned. “Were you raised by serial killers?” He asked half-joking.

Kevin made a considering face and Neil threw his empty champagne cup at him.

“My weird childhood is besides the point,” Neil tried again. “Kevin, what would have been on that phone?”

“He’s not careful,” Kevin said. “I don’t know for sure, but it could be anything, everything, or nothing. What did you do?”

“I gave his SIM card to his brother and heavily implied that Riko was about to bring everything down with reckless abandon if someone didn’t put a leash on him.”

Kevin put his head down on the table, skipping his hands this time.

“I can’t tell how insane that is,” Matt said. “Are we screwed or is Riko?”

“The trouble is, I don’t really know. It could go either way.” The fact that Ichirou also called him insane wasn’t exactly inspiring confidence. But he said he would look into it which would hopefully reveal the obvious information that Riko was out of control.

“How many people would you have to see die to stop being able to keep count?” Nicky asked. “I feel like that’s a sight that stands out against time.”

Erik wrapped an arm around Nicky, who slumped against him like Erik was his center of gravity.

“Do you want to explain or elaborate?” Matt asked. “Just this once as a holiday treat.”

“Not really,” Neil admitted, the year was already too long and they were only an hour into it. And that was without getting into the melodrama of blood, knives, and bodies that were his earliest memories.

“You’re in worse trouble than Kevin aren’t you?” Aaron asked. What did he think Neil meant by assuring him he was going to die the other day? That it would be of old age in his sleep? Had Neil somehow deflected that too well?

“My trouble doesn’t matter right now.” Neil answered.

“But you are in trouble?” Matt asked.

“Depends on what you mean by trouble,” Neil wasn’t dealing with the dying conversation again. “My mom’s dead so in a very real sense I can’t get in trouble anymore.”

Matt threw his hands up.

“I’ve always been in trouble, I can handle it.” Neil waved it off. Being born, being alive, apparently not being with the Ravens. And now whatever Ichirou would do in a week.

“You’ve said that before,” Nicky said, bizarrely astute. “Or some variation. That’s why you’re not afraid of Andrew, right? Because you’ve dealt with worse your whole life?”

Nicky wasn’t wrong, but he also wasn’t quite right.

“Oh my god, don’t get him started on Andrew,” Aaron groaned.

“I’m not afraid of Andrew because he hasn’t given me a reason to be.”

“He drugged you for information and threatened you with a knife.” Nicky said.

“You, tweedle dipshit, and tweedle dumbass,” Neil pointed to Nicky, Kevin, and Aaron. “Were all there too and the three of you are about as scary as a pack of declawed kittens. He’s never actually cut me. I find him to be the most reasonable and straightforward of the lot of you. And you know what? To be honest? He drugged me to learn all my secrets and I know what those are, fair enough. It’s what I would have done. I could name like forty people who I’ve met personally that are worse and I’m only afraid of seven of them. Andrew is just some guy to me.”

Aaron flapped a hand at Neil in a ‘see what I mean,’ gesture.

“Should I be proud Andrew has a friend or disturbed that you think all of that was okay?” Nicky asked.

“My head hurts, you find it easier to talk to Andrew?” Matt asked. “Wait why am I surprised? You’re both equally difficult, terrifying, and unpredictable.”

“Correct, wrong but subjective, and just unfounded.” Neil said.

“Unfounded,” Matt repeated.

“Oh whatever,” Neil gave up, literally. He got up from the table and face planted into the couch.

“Neil!” Nicky complained.

“Neil is done for the day, check back tomorrow.”

They got to the airport early the day after. Randy went with them, distributing warm smiles and a reminder that she would love it if they came back again over the summer. She held on tight to Matt, squished his cheeks between her hands and told him to be good.

And then they marched in to check their bags and get through security.

Erik’s flight was first which meant a long twenty minute goodbye where Nicky clinged to his boyfriend and failed at not crying. Nicky’s knuckles were pale where he gripped onto Erik’s shirt, his face buried in Erik’s neck. Whatever the two of them said to each other was too soft for Neil to hear.

Erik went through his gate and Nicky sobbed, his hands clapped over his own mouth and then he visibly swallowed it all down. He looked unmoored.

Matt, Aaron, Kevin all were looking around the airport, avoiding the sight.

Andrew probably wouldn’t give a shit. Always more preoccupied with the physical safety of his group than their tears or frustration.

Neil found it uncomfortable, he wanted to look away and wait it out. But more than that he wanted Nicky to stop.

When Neil had still been small enough to command pity, a common enough tactic he and Mary had used was for him to cry. Distracting adults while Mary moved unwatched. When faced with crying children people often resorted to contact, a hug, a tethering arm on the shoulder, a pat on the back, soft words that meant nothing.

Neil reached out and put a hand on Nicky’s shoulder and Nicky turned and collapsed against him.

Okay, sure, hugging was fine.

Nicky was shaking in Neil’s arms as Neil tapped him on the back. “There, there,” Neil said in a simulacrum of comfort.

“Wow,” Aaron said.

Neil flipped him off behind Nicky’s back and let Nicky keep hugging him.

It wasn’t the worst. Maybe it was even nice. Casual and affection were two words Neil wasn’t even sure of the definitions of. Ever since joining the Foxes the number of times he’d been touched without violence or pretense had gone up almost ridiculously.

He didn’t think he was anywhere near getting used to it, to not being startled by contact. He thought maybe that benchmark was a little too far away for him to ever experience, he’d be dead long before then. But at the very least he’d been around the Foxes long enough to think it wasn’t horrible.

Nicky stepped back, rubbed the tears from his eyes and gave Neil a soft “thanks.”

Neil nodded and gestured on to where their gate was waiting.

They touched back down in Palmetto and Neil experienced retrieving a suitcase from the revolving conveyor belt of other people’s shit for the first time in his life.

Matt had left his truck in long term parking before they left for New York, so after they retrieved their bags they just climbed in and Matt drove them back to campus.

It felt as though several life times had eclipsed between the week and a half they had been gone. Neil had a second bag, several healing knife wounds, and maybe a week to live. Clearly it had been a productive trip.

Matt pulled into Fox Tower and Andrew was already there leaning against his car. A cigarette hanging from his mouth, a long line of smoke trailing up into the air as he stared impassively.

“I thought we were getting you today?” Nicky asked as he climbed out of the truck.

That had been the plan as far as Neil knew. They all climbed out after Nicky.

“Hey man, how’s sobriety?” Matt asked.

Andrew’s gaze passed over them all without a word.

He had been so expressive before, now his face was still and his eyes seemed void of any emotion.

“Right cool, good talk dude,” Matt said before moving to get his bag out of the trunk.

Was this it? Andrew sober? Or was he still recovering? Was it the same formless apathy that overtook Neil most days. Dread left hanging so long it melts into nothing, carving out bones until standing takes too much effort. Everything just rubber and sinew.

Neil pulled his suitcase and duffle out of Matt’s truck and stacked one on top of the other. He pulled out his keys, separated the one for Andrew’s car from the rest and tossed it over.

Andrew caught it in a smooth motion.

“You,” Andrew pointed to Nicky, his voice low and steady. “Stay. The rest go.”

And Neil picked up his bags and started for the doors. “Let’s go,” he urged the other three over his shoulder.

“God forbid he give us an answer,” Aaron grumbled as he followed Neil.

“Did you want some attention, Aaron?” Neil asked. “I can tell you how I’m doing.”

“Asshole.”

“Is that what he was like before?” Matt asked as he hit the elevator button.

“Yeah, pretty much. Ignoring everyone and making grand demands and unilateral decisions without consulting anyone.” Aaron answered. “So different from the medication.”

They got on the elevator.

“Well, he used to smile more,” Matt blanched. “Well, Dan would smack me for saying that.”

“This is better than the laughing,” Neil said, thinking of how Andrew had sounded after Drake left the parking lot. “Much better.”

“He’ll be more focused now,” Kevin said, almost pleading.

“Good luck with that.”

Neil had unpacked, a row of poorly wrapped Christmas presents set out on his dresser, by the time Nicky shuffled into the room.

“How is he?” Matt asked.

“I really can’t tell,” Nicky admitted. “He wants to talk to you.” He said to Neil.

Neil nodded and grabbed the present for Andrew. “How much did you tell him?” Neil asked.

“As much as I know about, I guess. Renee’s trial, championships, New York, Riko. I had no idea how to explain New Years, so I didn’t even try.”

Fair enough.

Neil left his dorm and found Andrew waiting in the stairwell. Andrew turned and went up without a word.

“I gotta say the silence might be more dramatic than the evil laughter, you’ve really upgraded.” Neil said as they went up. “I’m quaking in my shitty sneakers.”

Andrew shoved open the roof access door and stepped out into the cold sunlight.

“How’d you get back?” Neil asked.

“Bee picked me up,” Andrew said, calm, even, mellow. Hinged even. He turned to Neil and studied his appearance.

Neil had, admittedly, changed quite a bit since Andrew saw him last. His eyes were blue, his hair was bright orange, he still had the remnants of two black eyes from Kevin punching him and a healing cut on his hairline from where Riko had thrown him into a wall.

He had on his new black coat from Nicky, the collar of his fluorescent yellow and green button up peaked out from the zipper. And to top it all off was the orange knit hat Katelyn had made him with little white foxes and racquets all around it.

Andrew’s eyes narrowed, he reached up and pulled the hat off Neil’s head.

“Isn’t there enough orange?” Andrew asked.

“You don’t have to look at me.” Neil reached for his hat. “That was a gift. Speaking of here.” Neil handed Andrew the little wrapped cylinder and pulled his hat back on his head.

Andrew looked down at it for a long moment before peeling off the wrapping paper. It was a metal canister of fancy hot cocoa mix. Neil had no taste for sweets so he had simply made Kevin try the free samples and bought the one that made him angriest.

“It was time to do my roots and I thought I might as well make it a color I actually like,” Neil finally answered. “Do you not give Nicky Christmas presents, he almost cried when Kevin and I did.”

“Kevin?” Andrew asked, still staring at the can.

“I made him buy everyone presents, I think he got you a book about haunted buildings in New York. So, you have that to look forward to.”

Andrew put the can down on the top of one the vents that lived on top of the building. He turned to Neil.

“Did you get this keeping your word?” Andrew moved on, reaching up to press his thumb in a line from the cut to the bruises around Neil’s eyes.

“Yeah, I was valiantly defending Kevin’s fist from the dangerous air behind my head.” Andrew’s hand was colder than the air, maybe Neil should have gotten him gloves.

Andrew pressed down harder.

“Riko tried to get me to go to Evermore, said if I didn’t a doctor at Easthaven would hurt you. I called bullshit and Kevin thought I was killing you.”

“I don’t need or want anyone’s protection,” Andrew said, dropping his hand.

“I thought you didn’t like repeating yourself? What’s with the rerun? I didn’t ask, neither did Kevin. Or the rest of the team as we all argued about what crimes to commit to get you out of there. Or Wymack and Dobson as they actually did it.”

“Maybe I think if I say it enough it’ll finally get through your thick skull. I can handle myself.”

“You don’t have to,” Neil said. “If you’re jumping in front of every issue for everyone else shouldn’t at least one other person be watching your back?”

“Hypocrite.”

“My issues will get everyone killed. So far yours have just gotten me lightly maimed.”

Andrew’s hand reached and then stalled about two inches from the hem of Neil’s jacket.

“Nicky said you got stabbed.” He pulled out and lit a cigarette.

“Nicky overexhaggerated, slightly.” Neil said. “I’m not taking my shirt off out here so you can see if I flinch. It was shallow cuts but even if Riko had stabbed me I would still be fine. And it would still be worth it. Your life is worth it.”

“I hate you,” Andrew warned. “I’ll kill you.”

“I’ll even tell you how to get away with it.” Right then, in a week, or a month, or whenever his father finally caught up to him. All that would change is the person doing it.

“I already know how to do that.”

“You know how to cause a car accident,” Neil dismissed. “But you’re not gonna leave my death up to machines. You’re gonna kill me with your hands. That’s a whole different game.”

Andrew put his free hand up in a mocking choke. “Don’t tempt me.” He said with a drag of his cigarette.

Neil reached up and snagged Andrew’s sleeve, pulled his hand right to Neil’s neck.

“Do it,” Neil urged, a good death was all he wanted. “You could leave me up here until nightfall and then drag me down to the car and out to Columbia. I’m sure you know a nice deserted corner to leave me in. I’ll tell you where to cut me apart after, you’d do a good job. I know you would, with a little direction.”

Andrew’s hand didn’t move, he didn’t squeeze it shut or pull away. But the cigarette in his other hand snapped in half. “Or I could just throw you off this roof and tell everyone you jumped,” he said.

“Come now, Andrew, I already told you this isn’t high enough to kill me and I’d just drag you down too.”

“You were supposed to be a side effect of the drugs.” Andrew swayed forward and then stepped back, pulled his sleeve out of Neil’s grip. Well, it was worth a shot.

“That’s a nice thought, isn’t it?” Neil mused. “I wish you were just hallucinating me, that would be a better existence. If you’re not killing me today, next week someone from the Moriyama main branch is coming here to maybe do that.” Might as well warn him while they were doing the winter updates.

“Explain,” Andrew lit another cigarette and looked away. Turned his gaze out over the campus.

“When Riko pulled his New York stunt I stole the SIM card from his phone. I hadn’t decided what to do with it when I happened upon a Moriyama execution. I’d run into the guy before actually, he’d bragged about stealing money from his boss to hit on my mother and then sold us out and almost got us both killed, years ago.” It was amazing how long Simone had managed to live.

“He still remembered me, I still remembered him. Caused a bit of a scene.” Neil debated elaborating. “Anyway Ichirou Moriyama was the one presiding over it. So I took the opportunity to hand over the SIM card and suggest he muzzle Riko. He said he’d get back to me in a week. They might kill me, they might fire Riko out of some sort of cannon, it’s hard to say.”

“Your insistence on goading everyone you meet into killing you is getting old.”

“Well if someone would just get it over with I wouldn’t have to keep trying.” Neil stole Andrew’s cigarette to make him look at Neil again. “This part is serious, if I tell you they’re here you need to keep away until it’s over and make sure everyone else does. I only told Kevin about the week deadline but he was drunk.”

“Like you’ve stayed away from everyone else’s problems?” Andrew asked.

Neil pointed at himself, “dying regardless,” he pointed at Andrew, “long life full of monologues and chocolate so long as you don’t involve yourself in my execution.”

Andrew looked away again. “Get out of my sight.” He said.

Neil held out the cigarette where Andrew could see it and waited for him to take it. “I’m glad you're back,” Neil told him before going back inside.

#aftg #no more fucks to give #fanfiction #nmftg

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