#what if Scott never trusts him again

[teddy-bear-d]

Currently rotating angsty Martyn from killing Scott in my head

[alchemistc]

Tommy doesn't quite startle, when Evan reaches out for his hand, halfway down the block on their way to the little park tucked in behind a row of boutiques, but it takes him a moment to accept the touch, Evan's pinky sliding over the back of Tommy's hand as their shoulders bump together, the both of them a little too giddy to blame the coffee alone.

Evan makes an aborted movement like he's second guessing the attempt, and Tommy twitches his hand back just enough to snag his fingers.

At his side, Evan ducks his head, cheeks pinking, lips rubbing together, smile going wide and bright.

He feels overheated in his hoodie, but now their fingers are interlocking, and Evan is shifting his weight to adjust the angle of their arms, and Tommy can just deal with the warmth, actually.

His sister's wedding. They're both insane, Tommy decides, right then and there, and if this continues - if this continues, Tommy's just going to take his cues from Evan.

(I am all in, Tommy thinks, in Scott Patterson's voice, and then drops that thought like a hot fucking potato. He tables it, at least. For later.)

"I - uh - I told Eddie, about - well I told him." Evan grimaces, but he holds up their intertwined hands for a moment, a clear gesture about what, exactly, he'd told Eddie. Tommy wonders exactly how much he'd said. He wants to climb in behind his eyeballs and pick at his brain, which is so beyond the pale of weird and intense. Evan still thinks he's cool, somehow. That won't last. "I hope that was okay? I know you said you're out, but I guess he didn't know, so -."

Tommy squeezes the hand tucked into his. "That's fine, really. He'd have figured it out on his own, eventually. It's not like I hide it."

(Anymore.)

It's - that's a huge fucking leap from "I'm an ally" actually, less than a week out from shifting his eyes around the room and spouting nervous nonsense about picking up chicks. His sister, his best friend - Christ, he's really going for the speed run on accepting his sexuality.

The wedding, Tommy had discovered, down to the dregs of a truly middling cup of coffee he kept sipping at to try to hide his own nerves, was another three weeks away, but a month of lead time between his first kiss with a man and introducing that man to all of his family and friends as a date - yeah. Tommy wouldn't trust it for a minute if he hadn't spent weeks picking Christopher's brain for hints as to exactly what was up with Evan Buckley, if he hadn't already heard from Eddie exactly how quickly they'd jumped into their friendship.

Tommy's whirlwind thoughts stutter to a halt. "Wait. Did you know?"

Evan blushes, again, ripening the apples of his cheeks. "It's - okay so I didn't know, know, obviously, but - I mean - you were flirting pretty hard."

Tommy laughs. "Evan."

"You were!" He sounds a little incensed, like he's actually offended Tommy thinks he can't clock a flirt, and Tommy can't quite resist the urge to squeeze at his hand, again. "You aren't exactly the first guy who's ever flirted with me, Mr. Kinard." He says it prim and proper, chin raised, lips pursing after the pause, and Tommy is - shit, he's smitten. He also has no fucking clue how Evan never pieced together how hard he was flirting back. God, even Mr. Kinard has his stomach fluttering, a little.

"Just the first one who's ever reached out and slapped you in the face with it."

Evan's grin goes blindingly bright, eyes still a little squinted under the sunlight making the shots of red in his hair a little more obvious. "It was a very gentle slap. You could - you could slap a little harder, next time."

Jesus.

He's not even a hundred percent sure what the implication is there, but he can at least roll with the tamer one. He tugs, a bit, on their intertwined hands, just hard enough to knock their shoulders together again. He's a solid weight against Tommy's side, the bulk of him a little mind numbingly hot, in his bright white shirt and the dark wash jeans Tommy'd taken his time checking out when Evan went to toss their coffee cups. "You still owe me a beer, Buckley," he tells him, and Evan tilts his head up to check the angle of the sun, doesn't even bother to point out that Tommy'd barely let the check sit on the table long enough for Evan to pull out his wallet.

"I mean, it's a little early."

"Raincheck, again?"

Neither one of them has anywhere to be for the rest of the day. They'd both made that clear, when the coffee started to get low but the conversation didn't wind down, and Tommy - Christ, Tommy is more than willing to let himself get swept up in this, for the next few hours, for the day maybe, even. The weather is comfortable, and the company is adorable, and in response to Tommy releasing him from the pressure of being out too soon he'd sped off to his sister and his best friend for - for answers, most likely, for advice on how to turn things around. My sister says... he'd started, before Tommy'd had enough of wondering.

"Let's see where the day takes us," Evan says, another squeeze to Tommy's hand, and Tommy takes the weight when Evan checks his shoulder back.

-----

The day takes them twelve blocks up the road, Tommy pressed to his own kitchen counter, lips swollen and flushed when he finally parts for breath, Evan Buckley's dick pressed against his thigh as he whines at the loss. Tommy's hands are bunched up under the fabric of Evan's shirt, the wide expanse of skin beneath them sun-warm and smooth, and when Evan blinks back at him and digs his nose into Tommy's cheek, Tommy has the wild thought that he could do this forever - just this, rocking together in the shifting late afternoon light coming in from the gauzy white curtains over his kitchen sink.

They'd made the journey here under the pretense of grabbing a few waters, maybe making some late lunch, figuring it out from there, but when Tommy had bent over the low shelf in his fridge Evan had cut the distance between them, caged Tommy in and made good on his threat to show Tommy he could slap back, if he wanted.

They've been lazily making out for - long enough that the water bottles he'd scrambled to set aside are now sweating condensation. He'd lost his concept of time somewhere around the point Evan had grabbed for the back of his thigh and rocked against it for the first time.

"We should figure out something for dinner," Tommy announces, lips still close enough to Evan's still parted ones that he's speaking mostly into his mouth.

"Uh-huh."

"Evan," he intones, just a hint of admonishment, and Evan blinks, and gathers himself. He's - he's still got his thigh wedged between Tommy's, can clearly feel exactly how much they'd both gotten themselves worked up. Tommy's a little obsessed with exactly how unperturbed by this Evan is. Thirty some years without realizing he was attracted to men and now he's spent a good few minutes actually nipping at the cleft of Tommy's chin, purposely shifting his face against Tommy's stubble-roughened cheeks while he sucked at Tommy's earlobe.

"Somewhere with beer," Evan provides, decisive, and Tommy can feel exactly how wide his smile goes.

"I'm actually in the mood for wine, tonight," Tommy shoots back, and the moment shifts, mood slowing as Evan pulls back - just a little, just enough for each of them to take stock of exactly how disheveled they both are.

Evan's mouth is pink pink pink, his own stubble not quite enough to hide the beard-burn that had spread down his neck when Tommy found himself momentarily fascinated by the dip of his collarbone, the rush of his pulse when Tommy mouthed at the tendon of his neck. Besides the awkward bunching at the back, his shirt is all out of whack, one side of his collar flipped up, the neck shifted to one side, and Tommy vaguely remembers sliding his hand in there, at one point, swallowing the heavy groan that had elicited. His cheeks are ruddy, eyes bright and still a little wild. Tommy can't be any better.

"There - there is actually a little wine bar around here I've been meaning to try," Evan says, clearly trying to refocus, shifting his weight around in a familiar way that Tommy finds achingly endearing.

Tommy thumbs at Evan's bottom lip just to watch the way he has to fight not to be drawn back in.

"Let me change," Tommy says, hands shifting to Evan's hips to press him back, and away.

"You - you're fine. Like this."

Tommy's smile is soft, and he reaches out to smooth down Evan's collar. Evan's eyes seem to be stuck on the flash of skin behind the open button of his Henley, the knowledge of which he is absolutely going to use to his advantage.

"This isn't exactly date attire," Tommy impresses upon him, and Evan's brow goes adorably crinkly.

"Tommy, we've been on a date the entire day."

Tommy's mouth does something uncontrollable, the smile breaking containment on one side, then the other, and the hand still tucked next to Evan's collar shifts across his chest. Beneath his ribcage, Tommy's heart does something he absolutely refuses to acknowledge until he's had a moment alone to his thoughts.

"I didn't wear this to impress you," he admits, although he gets the feeling Evan absolutely had dressed to impress. "Sorta thought I was getting a very polite let down, this morning."

"So, this is, what, your sulking attire?"

"Certain I was gonna sulk, hmm?"

"I mean, I'd have been a little insulted if you didn't at least mope, a bit. Maybe a little wallowing."

"You caught me. This is my brooding sweatshirt."

It's absolutely stupid, how much it makes his heart race to see the grin blooming across his face. Tommy needs a moment.

He brushes at Evan's shoulder as he passes him, fighting the urge to press his lips to his cheek.

"I'll be right back. Bathroom's down the hall on the left, if you need it."

In his room, with the door shut behind him, Tommy takes a long, long moment to stare at his bed, silently trying to convince himself not to throw his whole body dramatically across it like some regency era heroine. The bathroom is right next to his room, and Tommy can hear Evan drifting down the hall towards it, at a pace that suggests he's taking the time to take in the artwork and picture frames hung on the walls. It makes something ache, in his chest, in his throat, and Tommy shakes his head on the way to his closet, getting tangled in his sweatshirt when he tries to tug both it and the Henley up over his head at the same time.

He's forgotten how clothes work. Maybe. Probably.

In his walk in, once he's figured out how to get everything off without blinding himself or taking out a light, he takes a moment to stare at himself in the mirror hung by the door. His hair is a fucking disaster. His face is - embarrassingly smiley, Jesus Christ.

There's a mouth shaped bruise forming at the bolt of his jaw, and Tommy should absolutely be embarrassed about that - he's a forty year old man who just spent a good hour necking in his kitchen.

Fingers trace the edges of it and he can't muster up anything less mortifying than smugness.

He manages to get his hair in some semblance of order - doesn't bother with product, for absolutely no reason at all (certainly not to tempt Evan into running his fingers through it some more) - and finds a collared shirt in a light, hazy blue that he knows brings out the slashes of green in his eyes.

He leaves the top three buttons undone and calls it good.

Evan's back in the kitchen by the time he makes it out of his room, snooping in Tommy's fridge, and he doesn't even have the grace to look apologetic about it when Tommy taps his fingers against the doorframe.

The fridge closes on its own, Evan's mouth dropped to an intriguing O shape.

"Uh - oh," Evan says, mouth actually snapping shut as he takes Tommy in, eyes dipping up, down, catching on the skin below his collarbone. He swallows. Fuck. "This - uh. Okay. Color me impressed."

"Yeah?"

"You know you look good," Evan whines.

He's done something to fix his own, hair, too. Tommy leans in the doorway, arms crossed, one foot tucked over the other, and actually takes the time to stare back. Tommy's hands had worn through the product - there's a little bit of a curl, in his hair, that Tommy would give a lot of his earthly possessions to see in its natural state. There's still some color in his cheeks, and it's spreading as Tommy checks him out. He's fixed the neck of his shirt, and against the stark white of it, his tattoos are drawing Tommy's eye. He wonders how many other ones he might uncover, one day. "You too," Tommy finally says, when Evan looks like he might vibrate right out of his skin at the attention. Evan beams, and spins the keys in his hand around on one finger.

"You ready?"

Absolutely fucking not, Tommy thinks to himself, but he nods, and lets Evan lead the way back out his front door.

[fandomxo00]

Ok but imagine:

You hate Logan but you have a child together

You had a complicated relationship with your Logan. When he first came to the mansion the two of you hit off immediately. The typical good girl bad guy dynamic, but there always a layer of Logan you couldn't quite get to. He wanted to be with you, but he didn't want to do the work in order to keep you. He struggled with being emotionally vulnerable and you were the complete opposite. You told him you felt, you spoke through misunderstandings with him, and you were always there to listen. To try get any piece of your lover that you could. But after years of begging Logan to love you, when you told him you were in love with him. He said he was not, and that was the end of your relationship.

Or so you thought. Because your relationship couldn't end that easily, but you discovered you were pregnant. Logan tried to make things back to normal, but you rejected him at every turn. He hadn't ever wanted to hurt you, but as he realized your unrelenting anger, he knew he did. He knew that you cried when you were alone, that you'd start going to therapy again. That being pregnant with Logan's child was literally the last thing he thought you wanted. Maybe before when you were together when Logan wasn't confronted on being a coward.

He calls this karma, watching you go to Jean and Scott for support instead of him. Watching you grow progressively more pregnant with his child, and he couldn't hold you or kiss you. Logan thought about leaving, it was he had done so many times before. Even when the two of you were together, he'd leave for long periods of time. Breaking your heart over and over again but coming back asking for forgiveness. You'd given him so many chances and he had wasted them on being a brainless dick.

Little did you know how hard it was not to run back to him, not to give him to his promises. But you couldn't trust that he was going to come through for you. You didn't have any doubts about your child together, you knew that you meant something to him. You'd hope that his anxiety wouldn't pull him away from his own child. Because you knew he'd be a good dad, the way he was with Rogue, always checking in on her, making sure Bobby was being respectful. He loved her like a daughter, and you only hopped he could love your child the same.

Logan was going to have to be a part of your life no matter what now, or so you hoped. There was a hope in Logan that when your daughter was born that you would accept him again. He'd plan to tell you he loved you, that'd he give anything to you, that he'd wait for forever. It took him 9 months to grow the guts to do it.

It was a no brainer when he had their baby in his arms, you laying in the med-bay, he'd never seen you so tired but so happy. "Y/n." He murmured, looking over at you with his soft eyes. Your heart stuttered in your chest as you made eye contact with him. "I'm sorry for letting you down, I-I want to give you everything, I-I loved you for so long, I've just been too scared to say anything." He admitted, wearing his heart on his sleeve for once in his life.

You felt tears well up in your eyes at the pang in your chest, you shook your head as you looked away. "I-I can't risk it, Logan. Getting hurt by you-." You swallowed the lump in your throat. "I can't do it again, and I can't focus on you anymore and how you make me feel, I gotta focus on our girl, make sure she has the life she's supposed to."

Logan didn't say anything as he looked back down at his daughter, a shaky sigh falling from his mouth as he tried to keep the tears welling up in his eyes at bay. He didn't think he would cry if you said no, but Logan also thought you would forgive him. "I uh-I wanna name her Hazel."

"Yeah?" He grinned over at you, even just the slimmest of hope fluttering in his chest. You also spoke about his hazel eyes; it was one of your favorite things about him. Even if you didn't consciously pick it because of him, he had given him the glimmer of hope he needed to completely devote himself to you and Hazel.

Logan didn't confess anymore feelings or push you to be with him. But you grew rather annoyed by his presence always a reminder of something you wanted desperately but whenever you got it hurt you. It was like the apple that you wanted so desperately but everything was telling you to not grab the apple, don't eat it. Don't give into those green eyes and that handsome smile. Try not to focus when he was talking in that almost condescending way while his eyes flitted up and down your body. This man had no shame in showing you how much he loved you, by teasing, poking, antagonizing. But also being the first one to show up when you were overwhelmed with Hazel or you were just having a rough time. He didn't need to ask, he just did.

Being so agonizing good with your daughter that it was hard not to fold when he was such a good man. But instead of giving him a chance, you only pushed him away more, complaining about the littlest things and not giving Logan the benefit of the doubt. When Hazel wasn't around, it was you calling him some name and trying to start an argument with him.

But it was hard to act like a bitch when you saw your one and half year old on Logan's hip while he made her breakfast. It was his morning to take care of her, but you'd waken up early so you went for some coffee. "Morning beautiful." Logan grinned at you, you were suer he said those things to purposely piss you off. You ignored him as usual coming up to Hazel and kissing her cheek.

"Good morning love bug." You murmured to her, as she grinned over at you before putting a kiss on your own cheek. Logan gazed over at the two of you, imagines of you calling him that nickname, 'Love bug'. You'd explained to him how much that nickname actually meant to you, how it was favorite term of endearment. Something that you called him for a long time. He just wished it would be directed at him one day, one day he'd regain your trust again, right?

Logan wasn't a patient man.

But he was patient for his girls.

Notes: angsty moment here lmao got this idea last night just didn't have time to write it. hope you enjoy! lmk if you want a part 2

tags: @ohtobemare @jessjessmarvelandhp @chronicallybubbly @delicateholland @bubblegumholland

[gay-dorito-dust]

Whew you came in time. I’d like to request Wolverine (from the Deadpool movie in particular) with a very caring and affectionate s/o. Once again, my weakness for grumpy/traumatized individual x sunshine shows

Logan oftentimes wondered why you, someone so kindhearted and willing to do anything just to see someone smile, stayed by his side especially after everything he’s done.

He didn’t believe himself to be that great of a partner either when it counted but you’d always shone him that beautiful smile of yours and told him that he was anything but a bad partner. Oh how he too wishes he could accept that as the definitive truth but given how he had lead his life up until meeting you, Logan couldn’t help but think otherwise.

He had lost the ability to trust a long time ago and would instead double down on an inherited belief that he didn’t need nobody but himself, assuming that he was meant to walk this life a lone wolf he believed himself to be. Unfortunately for Logan he was a human as everybody else and humans more often then not craved connection, relationships and so on with other human beings.

Logan was no exception to this rule, no matter how often he thinks he’s not, but has forced himself to the point where he physically couldn’t stay within the presence of someone the moment he starts to deeply care for them. He couldn’t bear to be the reason someone else dies, regardless whether his part was intentional or unintentional.

So when you came into his life like a shining beacon, a second chance, everything within him told him to run away and maintain distance so that his bad luck doesn’t rub off on you and causes to to be sent to an easy grave. However you were rather stubborn for someone so soft and sweet that no matter what Logan did to put distance between the two of you, you were quick to close the distance with a knowing look within your eyes as you placed a hand on his shoulder.

‘It’s okay.’ You tell him. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

‘Don’t promise something you don’t intend to uphold.’ He replies as he then shrugs off your hand and walks elsewhere. He wasn’t going to make it easy for you, that you were aware and were willing to anything to make him see that you weren’t lying, but what you weren’t aware was how easily you had slipped past Logan’s guard much to his dismay and that made him scared.

He had already lost Scott, jean, ororo, beast and many more due to his actions, the wounds were too fresh to be ignored as their screams of his name haunted his dreams as they did his waking life. He didn’t want to add your name amongst the seemingly never ending graveyard that was his loved ones, past, present and future. And yet he couldn’t help but find himself wanting to do everything in his power to make sure you were safe and protected.

His body was torn in two directions on how to go about you, leave you alone until you see that he wasn’t any good for you, or stay by your side and make sure that no harm ever does come to touch you. ever.

You were there during every turbulent moment of his life, watched him tear things apart and show the ugliest side of himself in hopes it would scare you away, but all you did was step over the dead bodies and hold his face in your hands as your thumbs wiped the blood from his cheeks.

‘Are you okay? You’re not hurt?’ You’d ask and Logan would always be left a little speechless because how can you still see the good in him after seeing firsthand what he could do when tested. He was confused at how you could still smile at him so sweetly while clearing him of blood that wasn’t his, he didn’t understand what he did to deserve you.

For all Logan knew was that he was cursed and shouldn’t be allowed a happy existence but yet life sent him the sweetest, most kind and honest person in the form of you as what? Repentance for all the shit he’s been through? Like he’d ever believe life would ever give him a fucking break when all it’s ever done but take everything away from him, even when he was doing okay for himself.

He saved lives but the ones closest to him were taken away, and even when he does take lives the people closest to him still suffer regardless. So what was Logan meant to take away from that other than the fact that he was doomed for the very moment he could heal a gun wound as though it were a scratch.

However overtime and a fuckton of patience on your behalf and soon enough Logan was more reciprocal of your affection and care, even going so far as to give you his own affection in his own unique way that wasn’t grunts and unconvincing reassurance of his own well being. He had grown a soft spot for you but he didn’t care, he loved your soft heart and the sweet sounds you made whenever he felt a little flirtatious then normal.

You were slowly healing the wounds that his regenerative powers could not and Logan couldn’t help but be thankful that you didn’t give up on him, nor leave him alone when you probably should’ve but wouldn’t because you didn’t want him to be alone anymore.

He isn’t one for pda, the most Logan would do was sling an arm over your shoulder, keep you close by his side with his arm on your waist as he glared at anyone who was tempted to take his little sunshine from him.

You described him as moody, temperamental, stubborn, a pain in the ass and then called him a grey storm cloud on a sunny day. Many would say that they were all negative things but you’d then reply with ‘yet they all look good on him.’ Because it was true. They did look good on him and you weren’t about to express pride in the good you see in him without acknowledging that he was a man of many flaws and scars. You wanted to show that your love for Logan was genuine and real, show him that you weren’t excepting him to be the perfect man with the life he’s lived, and you hoped that he could see that he meant everything to you.

And he did see because you meant everything to him in return, he’d tear everything apart with his bare hands if anything were to ever happen to you and he wasn’t nearby to stop it. He was like an unstoppable force to be reckoned with that he wouldn’t even acknowledge the bullet wounds nor the blood, not until you cup his face once more in your hands and wipe away the blood on his cheeks like you have plenty of times before.

‘You sure are a mucky pup Logan.’ You’d say lightheartedly as though he didn’t just tear apart an entire facility for you.

‘How you aren’t fazed by this I’ll never know.’ He replied but was relived to see that you were unharmed before pulling you into his arms, where he held you tightly to his chest just to breath you in while you cling to him in return, happy to see him as you felt safe and sound in his arms again.

‘Well when your lumberjack of a partner is the temperamental type, it kinda comes with the territory to expect him to come home a little bloody.’ You told him as you burrowed your head into his neck and closed your eyes, only to squeal in surprise when Logan pinched your side. ‘For someone who’s sweet and gentle, you sure are a sneaky shit aren’t you?’ Logan said as he felt you silently giggle but couldn’t help but smile himself as he presses a kiss to your head. Happy to have been given a second shot a life, a happier shot and with you no less.

[periprose]

Hi! :)

I’m craving some Logan Howlett angsty fluff and I really like your writing style… Do you think you could maybe do a fic where either Logan and reader are in the heat of the moment and his claws come out and he scratches her. Or where Logan has a nightmare and the same thing happens. Either way the reader ends up comforting him.

Thank you! 🩷 :)

Hi!! So sorry for getting to this so late 🥹 loved the idea btw :) ended up doing a bit of a mix of both? If that makes sense.

/

"Out with it."

Your voice rings out clearly among the X-Men, the throng of battle no longer around you all. It was a more exhausting battle than you would've thought, but nothing irks you more than knowing that Logan has been apparently thinking of you as someone to play babysitter to. He hadn't trusted you to make your final blow to the enemy, and instead scooped you away to safety before lashing out with his own claws.

Logan clearly has something to say to you, and you want to hear it. You're not going to let him escape again- the way he always does, nonchalantly, refusing to acknowledge how he treats you.

Charles stiffens next to you in the helicarrier. Watching the tension, feeling the palpable heart-wrenching sensation between you and Logan. He doesn't know how you got to this point.

"Listen. Just because you didn't have it doesn't mean you're not a good X-Man-" Logan starts dismissively.

"But I did! I did have it!" You shout back at him, and then inhale carefully. "Nobody told you to rescue me, Logan. If I was about to die, then I was. I wanted that to be on my own terms."

"Don't talk like you're a fucking martyr when you've never had the privilege, kid." Logan's unnecessarily harsh tone has you flinching. "Do you know how many people I've seen die, for no good reason? Do you really want a bunch of Pentagon psychos to be your last memory?"

"Shut up." You shift in your seat, feeling small. "We don't get to choose when we die. Not like you."

Logan becomes visibly angered with that, the little taunt you've made towards his immortality. "That doesn't mean you have to go seek it out, dumbass."

"Oh really? Don't tell me you're getting soft, Logan." You glare at him, and Charles and Jean and Scott look at each other uncertainly. "Just because your life is so long doesn't mean the rest of us have forgotten what it means to be alive."

There's an unspoken, sudden charge in the air, now that you've mentioned what everyone else has the good sense to shut up about- Logan having lived so long and not caring about the consequences of his actions. Logan's eyes narrow until you feel sure that you've pushed him too far this time- he looks more animal than human, more Wolverine than ever- and you feel yourself inching forward, letting the anger of not being understood push you to fighting him- and Charles suddenly raises his hand in protest.

"Please, you two. I'm not sure what has transpired today, but I know you are better than choosing to have a physical altercation on a helicarrier flight." His calm, soothing tone makes you feel a little disappointed in yourself, and you settle back in your seat, refusing to meet his or Jean's glances of concern.

/

All you really wanted was an apology. A "Sorry, I won't do that again." Or even an explanation for why Logan keeps tabs on you all the time, never letting you be a real part of the X-Men, always safely on the sidelines. Were you just too weak?

Should you even be here?

You feel guilty for what you said to him. It's not a bad thing, you know, that Logan doesn't want you to get hurt- it's just that you want to do your job. You're not a kid.

It almost, almost justifies how you treated him, but even you know that was too far. You can't act as if you know Logan's life story- not even Charles or Jean would claim to do that, and they've searched his mind for memories several times.

Like it or not, the man was mysterious. He kept to himself on a lot of things, citing past hurt as his reason why- and you should've respected that.

"Maybe I am weak." You mutter to yourself, wondering why you can't restrain your emotions around Logan.

You're practicing shooting small, psionic blasts towards the target in your room- it's a great way to pass the time when you can't sleep- when you hear a groan, a shudder, an angry, deep growl-

It sounds like Logan. His room is right above yours, and the sounds are definitely coming from there- you hear him yell, and before you can stop yourself, you're bounding up the stairs to the third floor of the X-Mansion, bursting through his room's door with a ready hand, in case you need to fight.

/

Logan watches as you berate him in his dream.

Actually, it's not quite you- it's some venomous, evil, witch wearing your face. You giggle at him- you call him old- you don't take him seriously.

With every taunt, you fire another bright purple blast at him- and for once, his body doesn't heal instantaneously. He is getting old, getting hurt, watching as blood pools out of him. It's agonizingly painful.

He's going to die this time, without making it right with you- he's afraid that you're right about him, that he's a washed up sad old man who can't ever let people in.

"We don't need you anymore, Logan..." The not-you whispers softly, smiling a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes, and Logan can't help but believe it.

His self preservation instincts kick in, and he launches forward, snarling, claws out with a sharp snikt sound. He feels that even though he'll regret your death, he'll miss you immensely, it's just one more tally mark to several others.

/

"Logan. Logan!"

You're leaning over Logan's sweaty, clammy body in his bed. You watch as his hands fist in the sheets, and he tosses and turns in agony- you breathe in hesitation, in fear that he's not going to be okay- he grunts suddenly, and you're reminded of how Rogue tells you about his nightmares. They're frequent.

How out of touch could you have been today?

You gently-yet-firmly grab Logan's arm, shaking, and his arms move forward in a self-defense mechanism that seems practiced, as if he's been attacked in his sleep before, and before you can move away, there's a sharp snikt sound, a quick wave of claws, and a searing pain in your side.

It all happens before you can even blink. You fall off to the side, on the floor, writhing in pain. Logan's claws just nicked your side, it's essentially a scratch- but the pain is so much worse than you're expecting, and you fall to the floor again as you try to get up.

You breathe in harshly, holding back a sob, as you feel wet blood pooling through the side of your night dress.

"Jesus Christ." Logan pounces off the bed, waking to blood all over his claws, and he's leaning over your body, as you blink up at him hesitantly. He immediately panics, lifting you up and resting you on his squatted thighs. "Kid! Hey, kid, don't close your eyes-"

"..." You're just barely hanging on, but you listen.

And Logan feels that same sense of shame he felt when he attacked Rogue, when Jean "died", every single time he had accidentally unsheathed his claws towards someone who didn't deserve it.

Doubly so, considering it's like his terrible nightmare has come to life. But you absolutely didn't do anything wrong- he can't believe he was so angry with you.

He calls for help, in a slightly broken tone, and no one seems to be coming.

"Just a scratch." You try, but Logan shakes his head.

"No, no, no." Logan spits out. "How could I- I never meant to-"

"I'm sorry, Logan." You cough, and Logan feels awful that you're apologizing while bleeding out due to his actions. "I shouldn't have said what I said. You're not some unreliable old man who doesn't care..."

You flinch at a sudden, sharp pain, and Logan motions for you to stop talking, but you keep going.

"If anything, you're the opposite. You're there for me. And I'm sorry that I got so... so angry at you for that." You mutter to yourself, not aware of how Logan hangs onto your words. "You're protecting me from making mistakes, and I'm grateful."

"No, kid. You had a point before." Logan interjects, but you shake your head.

"Did I? Or was I being a brat?" You grimace at yourself.

"You did have a point. I was being selfish," Logan shakes his head and then swallows that urge to push you away. "I don't always know how to leave people well enough alone. Sometimes I'm too much."

He hesitates, and then continues on. "Like, I treat you as if you're a nuisance, right? But I always... I always want you next to me. And I know I should just sort my shit out like an adult. But I'm scared."

"Scared?"

"Of what happens. What always happens." Logan sighs in defeat. "I fall in love, and they die. I find my people, and they leave me because I'm such a jackass. There's too much surrounding me that just... ruins everything."

"No, no. I won't leave." You tighten your hand around Logan's, and he, despite wanting to say that you're wounded because of him, believes you. He's so grateful to hear you say it- he had no idea that's what was weighing on him so badly.

He loves you, he knows he does. Logan has never been the best with feelings, but for once, he's glad he was honest.

The first thing Scott sees when he finally makes his way to Logan's room, from all the way across the X-Mansion, is Logan whispering "I'm sorry," and... he thinks (he's not 100% sure), "I love you," to your very forlorn, softly curved-around-him body.

It's a very tender moment, and Scott feels he should leave.

Then Logan presses a firm, shaky kiss on your forehead, and then your lips, and you, with your limited reserve of energy, kiss him back, and then Scott interjects with:

"Hey!...?"

He seems taken aback as you both look at him. "I heard screaming? What is this, some sort of weird cult sacrificial scenario?"

"Logan... had a... nightmare..." You wince, and Scott sees the red on your night gown. "I need... medical attention."

"On it." Scott glances at Logan for permission, and he's currently trying to push all these mushy feelings back into his chest where they belong, and he wants to be there to help you in the clinic, but he's flustered with everything that's happened and he can only hand you to Scott without looking at him.

Scott smirks to himself as he runs you to the clinic of the X-Mansion.

"You and Logan, huh? I knew there was something in that fight today." Scott remarks as you cling to him.

"It's taken an embarrassingly long time for me to figure it out, but yeah." You blush. "Has everyone else...?"

"Jean's been running a bet for the last year." Scott laughs. "She says you both are two sides of the same coin."

You can't help but agree.

[redroses07]

Just Friends // Stiles Stilinski

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader

WC:1.7k

Summary: Stiles is struggling after being controlled by the Nogitsune, and he turns to you for help. But little does he know, it will turn your friendship into so much more. Takes place after season 3. (Allison isn't dead!!!)

Warnings: Swearing, angsty as fuck, sad Stiles, kissing, implied smut if you squint?, PTSD.

A/N: HI GUYS!!! I really like this fic and ofc I hope y'all will too! This is my first time writing about Stiles and I think I did pretty well! As always, enjoy!! And comments and reblogs are appreciated. P.S. lmk if y'all want me to do a part 2 where they tell their friends (Scott's reaction hee hee) - Claire ♡

After Stiles was released from the control of the Nogitsune, things seemed to go back to normal. Well, at least that’s what one would think from the outside.

The series of events had taken a severe toll on Stiles’s mental health, and even though he did a good job of hiding it, you were the one person who seemed to know what he needed.

It all started about a week after everything happened, it was the middle of the night and you were jolted awake by the sound of your phone buzzing by your head.

You were about to hit decline but then you saw it was Stiles and feelings of worry began to stir within you.

You quickly answered, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you forced yourself awake.

"Stiles, is everything okay?"

"Yeah...well not really. I hate to ask, but do you think you could drive over to my house. I just really don't want to be alone right now." Stiles's voice was groggy, and laced with exhaustion. The fact alone that he was asking you this made you immediately agree.

You hopped out of bed, not bothering to change out of your pajamas, slipped on your slippers, and you were on your way.

Your house wasn't far from Stiles's, about a five minute drive with no traffic.

You lived directly in the middle of him and Scott, being only a short distance from each. The close proximity was the main reason the three of you had stayed so close throughout your school years.

"Friends", that's all you and Stiles had ever been. Although, neither of you could deny the chemistry between the two of you, risking your friendship never seemed worth it.

It was on this night that all that would begin to change.

When you arrived at Stiles's house, he had left the door unlocked for you so you wouldn't have to fumble around with the spare key in the dark.

You found Stiles laying on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. He looked lost in thought, his eyes rimmed with dark circles. It hurt seeing him look so drastically different from the Stiles you knew, and you wanted to do whatever you could to help.

You laid down next to him, your body facing his.

"Hey..." Stiles began, still staring at the ceiling.

"Stiles, what's going on? You know you can trust me with anything right?"

"Yeah...It's just a lot to put into words." Stiles's voice cracked, which told you that he was fighting tears.

You sat up and stiles copied the movement. You were now both facing each other, sitting legs crossed on his bed. You pushed aside the unspoken vow between the two of you and placed his hands in yours. Stiles's breath hitched, and you could tell he was avoiding eye contact with you.

"Take all the time you need, I'll listen to every word." you said softly.

"I know everyone thinks I'm doing okay, but I can't even function. I can't sleep without having nightmares. I can't eat or do anything without remembering all the awful stuff he made me do. I didn't know who else to tell except you. Scott has his own set of issues, and you're the only person I trust like this."

Stiles began to ramble, and your heart broke as he did. How had you not noticed earlier? Yes, it had only been a week, but you knew Stiles better than anyone. You felt like an awful best friend.

"I'm so tired, I just want to feel normal again." He could no longer hold back the tears, the dam broke and Stiles became a sobbing mess.

You pulled him into your arms with no hesitation, which only made Stiles want to cry.

"No, no I'm going to get your clothes all wet." Stiles protested trying to pull away, but you wouldn't let him.

"A few tears never hurt anyone." You said.

At that Stiles let himself fall into you, his body going limp with exhaustion. You tried not to cry along with him, wiping your burning eyes to prevent the tears.

"It'll be okay." You whispered as Stiles's sobs turned into sniffles. He finally looked up, his cheeks wet from the tears that had escaped his puffy eyes.

You did the only thing you could think of and gave him two kisses, one peck on each cheek. Stiles lips turned up in a small smile, his cheeks still turning red despite his current state.

"I think the first thing we need to do is get you to bed." You smiled, pushing Stiles's messy hair back.

He looks at you and nods without moving from your arms. You lean back on his bed, pulling him with you. You positioned yourself to where Stiles was resting on top of your body, his head pressed to your chest. You kept your arms wrapped around him, squeezing his body in an attempt to comfort him.

As you were settling down you heard Stiles whisper your name softly.

"Yeah?"

"Promise you'll wake me up if I'm having a nightmare?"

"I promise." You replied as you reached down and laced your fingers with his.

Stiles gave you a half-hearted smile in response, his puffy eyes glazed over from fatigue.

"Thank you." Stiles murmured, fighting sleep.

"Shhh." Was your only response as you traced your fingers along his back.

"I love you." It was an incoherent whisper, so much that you couldn't be sure of his words. But something told you you had heard correctly.

By the time you went to reciprocate the statement, the room was filled with Stiles's muffled snores.

You sighed and proceeded to fall asleep yourself.

Stiles slept through the night for the first time in weeks.

After that the trajectory of your relationship began to shift.

From holding Stiles's hand to remind him that everything was okay when you were with your friends, to staying up all night listening to him talk.

You rarely got to sleep at home anymore, but you didn't mind. You weren't far if you needed something, and it helped Stiles get a good night's sleep. Yet he would still apologize every time. "I'm sorry to bother you again.", "I promise this is the last time.", when in reality you were definitely okay with an excuse to spend more time with him.

You had become his anchor to reality, and Stiles could feel things beginning to look up with every day that passed.

Your friends picked up on it too.

"So, are you and Stiles together, or..." Lydia and Allison asked when they managed to corner you at your locker one day. It was a question you didn't know how to answer. Eventually landing on, 'it's complicated.'

"What's going on with you and Stiles, I'm starting to feel like a third wheel when we're together." It was a joke, but there was certainly some truth behind it.

You laughed it off and changed the subject, but didn't forget the comment that night when you and Stiles laid in each other's arms drifting off to sleep.

Surprisingly, it wasn't you who finally brought it up, but Stiles.

It was a Friday night, and the two of you were at your house instead of his.

"Shit, I forgot clothes to change into." Stiles said as he fumbled through his backpack.

"It's all good, I have a spare pair of clothes in my drawer for you." You replied, pointing to the dresser.

Stiles smiled and laughed, holding eye contact with you for perhaps a moment too long.

"You take care of so much for me, sometimes I feel like you're my wife." It was a casual statement, but it put you at a loss for words.

You laughed awkwardly, failing to come up with a reply.

Stiles could very clearly read your emotions, he pushed the drawer shut and walked back over to sit next to you.

You tried to calm yourself, but your heart wouldn't stop beating at what felt like an unhealthy pace.

"You're my best friend..." Stiles began, taking your clammy hands in his.

"You've done so much for me in the past few weeks, just like a best friend should; but I can't help thinking that this feels like something more."

You felt as if the world stopped. You knew this conversation would come, but definitely not now. Your brain seemed to stop producing thoughts.

"Please tell me I'm not imagining all of this. I know this is a lot at once, but Y/N I love you." Stiles's voice shook from the overwhelming nerves.

"I love you too." You spoke for the first time in minutes, it felt amazing after you had heard it fall from his lips that first night you spent together.

Stiles's eyes gazed into yours, and suddenly the feeling of just your hands touching wasn't enough.

You reached over and grabbed Stiles face, finally closing the gap between the two of you.

You pulled Stiles down as you did, his body landing on top of you sinking into the kiss.

You tugged on his hair lightly, pulling him as close to you as humanly possible. Stiles fell deeper into the kiss, locking your hands together and pressing your body further into the soft mattress.

After a few minutes of pure bliss you broke apart. The air that filled your lungs was both a blessing and a curse. You needed to breathe, but the absence of his touch only made you want him more.

Stiles hovered over you, the sound of his heavy breathing was the only thing you could hear over your own beating heart.

"So I take it you're not just my best friend anymore?" Stiles giggled, pressing his forehead gently against yours.

"Nope."

You gave a sly smile before pulling Stiles down by his shirt and connecting your lips once more.

[awkward-walking-potato]

Can I request Scott, Remy, Logan x reader headcanons with a reader who they just rescued from an illegal mutant fighting ring. They had been in there for a long time and were roughed up pretty bad, they were pretty hesitant and scared.

Here are headcanons for how Scott (Cyclops), Remy (Gambit), and Logan (Wolverine) would react to rescuing a reader who had been trapped in an illegal mutant fighting ring:

Scott Summers (Cyclops)

- Scott would be horrified by the state you were in when they found you. Seeing the bruises and the fear in your eyes would hit him hard, igniting a fierce determination to protect you. He’d be incredibly gentle, trying not to overwhelm you as he led you away from the place that had caused you so much pain.

- Scott would be extremely patient with you, understanding that trust wouldn’t come easily after what you’d been through. He’d take things slow, speaking softly and keeping a respectful distance until you showed signs of being comfortable around him. His natural leadership would shine as he quietly reassured you that you were safe now, and that no one would hurt you again.

- Scott would make sure you had everything you needed—medical care, a safe place to rest, and someone to talk to if you were ready. He’d check in on you frequently, but would also give you space, knowing that you might need time alone to process what happened. He’d encourage you to take things one step at a time and would be there to support you whenever you were ready to open up.

- Over time, Scott would gently encourage you to regain your confidence and control over your powers. He’d offer to train with you, not to push you, but to help you feel strong again. He’d emphasize that you weren’t alone in this—that you had a family now who would stand by you, no matter what.

Remy LeBeau (Gambit)

- Remy’s heart would break seeing you in such a battered state. The usually carefree Cajun would be deadly serious, his red eyes burning with anger at the people who had done this to you. But he’d push those feelings aside, focusing entirely on making sure you were okay.

- Remy would approach you with a careful mix of charm and sensitivity, using his natural charisma to try and ease your fears without overwhelming you. He’d speak to you softly in that smooth accent of his, offering you a comforting smile and a warm hand to hold if you wanted it. He’d let you set the pace, never pushing too hard or too fast.

- Knowing how heavy your experiences were, Remy would try to lighten your burden with humor and gentle teasing, anything to make you smile or forget, even for a moment, what you’d been through. He’d show you card tricks or tell stories, anything to distract you and bring a little light back into your world.

- Despite his usual laid-back demeanor, Remy would be fiercely protective of you. He’d stick close by, making sure you knew that he was there for you. If anyone even hinted at trying to hurt you again, they’d have to deal with Gambit’s explosive temper. He’d also be the first to offer to teach you self-defense, wanting you to feel capable and safe in your own skin.

Logan (Wolverine)

- Logan would be furious at the sight of you, covered in bruises and clearly traumatized. The animal inside him would roar with the urge to tear apart those responsible, but he’d shove that down, knowing that right now, you needed someone calm and steady.

- Logan wouldn’t overwhelm you with words; he knows that after what you’ve been through, words might not be enough. Instead, he’d offer his presence—solid, dependable, and unyielding. He’d wrap you in his jacket if you were cold, carry you if you couldn’t walk, and make sure you knew that you were safe with him.

- Logan would be surprisingly patient with you, especially considering his usual rough-and-tumble attitude. He’d understand your hesitance, your fear, and would give you the time you needed to adjust. If you flinched away from touch, he’d respect that, but would also make sure you knew he was there whenever you were ready.

- Logan would keep a close eye on you, his protective instincts in overdrive. He’d make sure you ate, rested, and had the space to heal. He might not say much, but his actions would speak volumes—like making sure no one bothered you, or leaving small gestures of care, like a cup of tea or a blanket.

- Over time, Logan would try to help you rebuild your strength, both physically and emotionally. He’d offer to train with you, teaching you how to defend yourself if you wanted, but never pushing you beyond what you were comfortable with. He’d want you to feel powerful again, not because he thought you needed to fight, but because he wanted you to feel safe in your own skin. And he’d be there, silently promising that no one would ever hurt you like that again.

[bluetimeombre]

✧˚ · . 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞, 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞,

✧˚ What if Logan had a nightmare about your death and swore that he would never let anything happen to you. But what if, him trying to save you is what gets you killed in the first place?

(I’m back!! Trust me to find a hot guy to obsess over and immediately get to writing. Yes, I’m on the X-men, Logan, Wolverine band wagon and honestly, couldn’t be happier to be here. Binged all the movies, have read all the smut (and don’t tempt me, I want to write my own) but for now enjoy this pure ANGST. Also this is low-key inspired by when Anakin dreams of Padme dying)

Warning/ disclaimer: angst, death, grief, sexual innuendos made, made up scenario, Evil Jean and sad Rogue and very sad Logan. Angst. Not proof read.

You- unlike many if your unfortunate mutant friends- rarely had to deal with nightmares plaguing your peace. Once the moon came out and all the children were safe and tucked away, you took yourself to bed, maybe read a book or a theory Charles wanted your opinion on. On the rare occasion you'd go to the kitchen, see Jean or Scott up after a particularly bad dream.

It was even more rare for you to hear yelling down the corridor. But when you did, you recognised it immediately.

'No!' They yelled out and you shot up in bed, heart racing as if it was your horror you'd woken from.

'No! Not her, please...'

You pushed back your covers and rushed out as the screaming became louder and agonising. Students were already peeking their heads through their doors, or lingering in the doorways. Everyone knew that when he had nightmares, somebody else usually paid off it. 'Back to bed everyone,' you tell them all, trying to keep some composure whilst only in your night gown. You cleared your throat and shooed them all away. 'Nothing go see here.'

You stood in front of his door, blocking students from the door and waiting until they all disappeared back into their rooms.

From inside, you could hear him tossing and turning, claws sheathing and unsheathing. He called your name, more so cried it.

You rushed inside and locked the door behind you, creeping in.

Logan was bare chested (and dare you suggest, completely naked if it weren't for he covers pooling around his waist). He tossed and thrashed his arms out. The sheets were already torn up, blood marking them from where he must have cut himself.

With everything he'd endured it wasn't unlike him to wake up screaming, but in such pain and your name was new.

'Logan!' You crept closer, settling on the edge of his bed. You knew the risk as you watched his claws gleam in the moonlight. 'Logan, wake up!'

He tossed, face contorted in pain. 'Y/N!' He screamed.

As his hand wiped out, you grabbed his wrist before he could accidentally strike you. This seemed to alert him as he shot up, his other fist coming for you.

You stopped him again, with your powers that you'd never been more thankful for.

Logan's eyes cleared from their haze as he slowly realised it was you. His breath moved with his deep and ragged breaths as he stared, taking every part of you in. His eyes searched, as if he couldn't believe you were in front of him.

You gulped, dreading to think what he must have seen.

'Y/n,' he sighed. His claws drew back into his knuckles and he winced. You were reminded how it hurt for him, every time. So it hurt to see him hurt. It always had.

It was an old and tumultuous relationship the two of you shared. Way before he joined the X-Men. The two of you met out of order, always one knowing more about the other. Still, there was no word for what the two of you meant to each other. You didn't need a word. Everyone knew, they just decided to call it different things:

A fling. Love at first sight. Enemies to lovers. Soulmates...

Logan pushed himself back until his back was to the headboard. 'Bub,' he still held onto your wrist, as if afraid you'd disappear if he let you go.

You cupped his rough and large hand in your own. 'Nightmare?'

Sometimes they were memories, painful ones. But the screams, the growls, you'd never heard that reaction from him before.

'You died,' he whispered. He looked her over again. 'You died in my arms.'

'I'm right here,' you said.

Logan looked into your eyes, shaking his head. He was trembling.

You grabbed his cheeks. Any other time, he would have turned away or growled but he only stared at you. Your thumbs soothed over his cheeks, begging him to see you. 'I'm safe. You're safe. Nothing is going to happen to us.'

As if the words instructed him, he knelt, the covers clinging to cover his decency. He held onto your shoulders, a grip worthy of leaving bruises. 'I won't lose you like I've lost everyone else, bub. I won't.'

You nod. 'Ok.'

Logan slowly shrunk back, tucking his covers closer to him. His hands fell between the two. 'Did I... get you?'

For a moment you wondered what he meant. His claws. He was afraid he'd hurt you.

'What? oh, no. No. I'm fine. You must have got yourself though,' you said, gesturing to the blood on the sheets like blood against snow.

'I heal,' Logan grumbled, glancing back up at you. Without saying it, you knew he had the dark images floating in his mind again.

'I'm fine, Logan. You don't need to be so afraid.'

He gulped, his jaw clenching. There was something he wanted to say, but wasn't.

Your hand itched out to reach his but after years of experience, you knew too much physical touch or affection would scare him away. 'Do you want to talk about it?'

'No,' he denied immediately. 'I don't want to think about it.'

You nod slowly. 'Ok.'

The door was still locked and the night was still going.

'Do you want me to stay?'

Logan looked at the door and then at the wrecked sheets around him. He sighed at the sight but his eyes glanced up to you. God, you saw the pain fade to something else. Something softer. 'Come 'ere.' He pulled at your shoulder until you were tucked into his side, warmth spreading over your skin as he tugged the blanket over the two of you.

Your arm slid over his chest and you sighed at the feeling of him. Your legs hiked up, until you were a ball in his side. 'Oh thank god, you're wearing boxers.'

He huffed a laugh, your head moving on his chest. 'I can take them off, if you like?'

You hummed, fingers tracing circles on his chest. 'Don't tempt me, Wolvie.'

✧˚

Logan had always battled against his dreams.

On one hand, he knew they were tricking him. He knew what nightmares were memories played ten-fold to make them worse and he knew which ones were playing on his fears. Like you dying.

But, the less reasonable part of himself (and the part he favoured) couldn't stop thinking about your death. It was the first dream of the sort. He'd had some where he hurt you, his claws sinking into your skin. He'd have other dreams where he was sinking himself into you in a different way.

Your death was new. And it scared him. It scared him so bad he went to Charles to try to calm him.

'Our minds have a way of tricking us, Logan,' said the professor. 'Y/N is a string mutant, level five at that. And she is sensible, good for you in that way.'

'It was Jean,' he admitted. 'In the dream, it was Jean that killed her.' Knowing how much you loved the woman, he hadn't wanted to tell you. You were close enough to sisters, with similar enough powers to grow up together and help each other. For days, he'd looked at Jean with anger and grief. He couldn't help himself, even when Scott threatened to hurt him.

When Charles hesitated to talk him down, to comfort him and tell him Jean would never, it set Logan on edge for the rest of his days.

Now, he feared it was less a dream and more a prophecy.

Jean had lost herself to the Phoenix, that power inside of her that had always threatened to break out. She'd killed the professor, she'd got rid of Cyclops.

Her eyes were set on you.

Logan had done all he could to talk you down to helping. To fighting but you'd distracted him and come along anyway. He'd tried to take down Jean himself with little effort.

The only other person who stood any chance, was you.

He was slouched on the ground, a slab of metal crushing him down as he watched you creep closer to Jean like she was a ticking time bomb. 'Y/n,' he tried to call.

Maybe you didn't hear him, or perhaps you didn't want to. 'Jean, please! Listen to me.'

Logan grunted, trying hard, trying so hard to get free. 'No!'

You raised your hands to the redhead. Her eyes were dark, black like ink and beyond recognition. But she was still your friend, in there. 'Let me help you. I want to help you.'

'Go away,' she growled, trying to push you away with her power, but you blocked with your own.

'Y/N! Don't!' he yelled.

His voice irritated Jean, who's neck cranked around to get rid of his voice. 'Stop!' she yelled.

'Jean, you can stop this. All you need to do is come back to me,' you said, every step getting closer and closer to her.

'Stop!'

Logan grunted, straining against the junk. 'Y/N.'

You reach out a hand to her. 'Jean, come back to us.'

'Leave me alone!' she threw out her arms and you were thrown from your feet, from the junk, tumbling down and being thrown out of sight.

But you couldn't be dead. No, you'd survived worse. But Jean had hurt you and whatever inside of her wasn't Jean.

Logan found the strength and threw the junk off him, running to end Jean and not you.

It was a mistake. If he had known you were in your final breaths then he'd have fought thousands of Jean's to reach you.

But no, whilst he dealt with saving the world, Rogue fell to your side. She gasped at what she was seeing. Metal. Metal pieces thrust through your chest, marking your suit with blood. Too much blood. You didn't heal. Getting out of there was a no go.

Rogue cried. 'Oh god.'

'Hey,' your eyes were barely open, as if so sleepy you couldn't hold your eyes open. Your hand reached out to grab her, but she seemed so far away. 'It's ok. I'm ok.' Both knew it was a lie. A comforting lie. Your head lulled to the side, to look toward Rogue. 'Is Logan alright?'

As you asked, the chaos around them ended. Logan threw his claws into Jean and laid her down gently, knowing you'd want to treat her with the last bit of respect she deserved. He did it for you. All for you.

Rogue watched as everything around you fell. She looked back over her shoulder, seeing a wounded Logan heal at remarkable rate. 'Yes. Yes, he's alright-'

When she looked back at you, your eyes were closed. It was so peaceful, so quick and easy it was as if you were sleeping. But Rogue gently touched your hand with her bare skin and there was nothing. Nothing.

'No!' an animalistic roaring echoed around them, shaking the earth. Logan fell next to you, hands hovering over your body, afraid to touch. 'No! No!' finally, he touched you, ripping away any little part of metal he could get to.

Rogue backed away, crying silently as the X-men gathered to see Logan cradle his own heart to his chest.

Slowly, he takes you in his arms and pulls you from the metal that had stabbed you. Your body slouches, arms falling out and not wrapping around him, not comforting him like he needed you to. He shook your body, tears blurring his vision and sliding down until they splashed on your cheeks. But you didn't flinch.

'Y/N? Y/N? Bub, c'mon,' he cried, shaking his head. 'Don't do this to me, no.'

It was just as he'd seen. Your blood. His body. Your death. His arms.

Logan growled. 'C'mon!' he roared. It was a moment of fury. Blind anger raging as you left him when you promised you never would. Suddenly, he remembered how much you hated his anger. How you'd shriek away from his yells. 'Oh, baby, i'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.' Logan cradled you close, kissing the top of your forehead. You were so cold already.

Nobody touched him. Nobody comforted him. That was your job. But you were dead. His dreams had come true in the worst way possible.

Logan, held you close, rocking you both, finally realising what it felt like to lose everything.

(If anyone has any ideas for a Logan request please let me know, I’d love to try to write more about him!)

[casually-eat-my-soul]

So like mafia/King/wolf king/warlord Derek idea?? Maybe A/B/O au

After Derek becomes heir to the empire (mafia or otherwise) is told by his council over and over again that he must marry and have an heir. He doesn’t trust his council much less the women they bring before him to marry. He would simply prefer to kill them all but unfortunately that would be directly traced to him.

So he abides by their demands and looks for a consort. So he throws a party, the most lavish party. The night is long and dreadfully boring. Derek thinks that at the worst he may ask Braeden to marry him. They are a little to hot headed and never seem to agree on a subject but at least the sex will be good. He spends most of the night trying not to dance with women who smell far to desperate.

He is ducking behind a column to hide from Jennifer when he hears the most clever and spiteful voice tell off one of his council members. He follows the voice to a vision of nymph dressing down his least favourite council member (maybe Deaton??) . Derek is absolutely taken a back by how the siren uses his words to get his way. Dereks preferred method is violence, and he tells this to the boy as he walks over — “it seems that my council member has overstepped, I usually find violence is my preferred way of dealing with such slights. Would you like he to rip his heart out for you?” — Derek kisses his hand and he basically declares to everyone listen he wishes to preform a courting action.

To Derek’s delight, the god in human form blushes. He thanks Derek for the offer but says he dealt with it his way. — “it is quite the generous offer Alpha, but I must decline as I have found words may be just as effective a weapon I promise you.” — Derek, desperate to not let him slip away asked him for a dance. He hesitantly agrees, but after the one dance they do not stop until the end of the night. 

The council member that had tried to hurt Derek’s future consort was found dead the next morning, of poison. It’s in the moment Derek declares that he will marry the boy from the night before. (Delusional Derek who is fully convinced they are to be married, and is just a tiny bit obsessed)

So he sets out to win his heart, cue shenanigans from him and the entire hale pack. Especially after finding out that Derek’s consorts father is a lawful man. A lawful man who would rather see his son with Parrish or Daehler rather than Derek. But stiles however refuses any means of courting expect for Derek’s. Because he knows the wolf is the only one for him. (If you like this idea please check out @hedwig221b Torn apart and set Anew)

Stiles didn’t care, Derek understood him in most ways that other didn’t. When his father would tell him that Derek was dangerous stiles wanted to shout back that so was he. His father ignored the worst parts of stiles, Scott didn’t even sees them but Derek understood. He didn’t just see stiles as a helpless omega. Derek is super fucking prideful about this and every time he sees Parrish or Daehler he just smirks at them.

Derek throws another party, this one to publicly state his intention to marry stiles. His council members kick up a big fuss about it until Derek reminds them that they are the ones who wanted Derek to have a consort. He abided by the rules. They claimed Derek couldn’t mate a beta but Derek ignored him. (Stiles doesn’t advertise the fact that he’s an omega)

Derek buys stiles a dress and jewels to wear.

Stiles only dances with Derek that night, anytime someone else asks him he refuses. (Parrish). During one of their dances when the music is fast paced and stiles heart is beating out of his chest, stiles spark comes into play and creates ribbons of energy that dance alongside them. So it looks like they are dancing in fire. (This is what kickstarted this idea)

So they marry and stiles helps Derek secure his claim.

Derek over hears his council talking bad about his husband so he kills them and then fucks his stiles pregnant to prove them wrong.

He also drags Daehler before his beloved omega for overstepping, and this time when Derek offers to rip out his heart for stiles, he agrees.

[waywardsou2]

Dudes ok wow.

Fucking Morph and Wolverine. I already made a post about how I could see the ship already but I have got so much more to say

So I made this post based off of the scene at the end of the first episode of X Men 97

I went back and am currently watching the old 90s show before 97

And boy did I notice some things

- When Morph "died" Logan was devastated and went and had a little cry about it

- He got mad at Scott (not that that's anything new) but he was really pissed. It wasn't just rebellious snark. Like he was pissed

- When Morph came back, even after he betrayed the X Men Logan went after him

- During that scene Logan proceeded to say "He's the only person who could ever make me laugh" and "I'm not giving up on him again" like why would he bring that up? He never talks about any of the other members as if there is some pre-existing relationship but this implies that they seem to have a relationship beyond the bounds of their duties as X Men.

- When Logan catches up to him Morph calms down for a while and they talk before panicking and leaving again. The purple on his eyes fades when he's around Logan and only returns when he leaves.

-During their little fight. Morph uses Jean and Sabertooth to get under Logan's skin. It's obvious to everyone how much he likes Jean but he hasn't told anyone about his past with Sabertooth. Why would Morph change into Sabertooth to provoke him if he didn't know something the others don't.

(this also shows that extra step of trust they have in each other)

- Morph says "I have to deal with this on my own" which is not what he said to the rest of the X Men. He wanted revenge, he was angry, he wanted to get back at Cyclops and Jean. But with Logan he (though very briefly) explains what he's going through. And judging by Logan's reactions he knows him well enough to know how much this is affecting him.

Not only that but my friend told me that Morph canonically has feelings for Logan and has professed his love in several X-Men iterations. The scene where Morph turned into Jean was actually a secret confession of sorts. Like he was using Jeans mouth but those were his words. His feelings.

I haven't even watched the other versions of the animated X Men but I'm sure there is so much more on this list that I haven't seen yet.

And honestly I love them so much. Being a multi shipper has never been better and a bi king like Logan is so fun to study.

[tomriddleslove]

Pick up the phone.

✩Tom Riddle x F! Reader

Summary: The one where your classmate can’t take a hint and Tom doesn’t like people trying to take what’s his. Alternatively : Tom is over possessive and he can’t bear the thought of someone wanting you.

A/N: Despite my Mattheo and Theo fics doing the best i absolutely love writing for tom and this imagine had me going FERAL. I usually don’t like writing non timeline accurate fics but this worked best with tom so pls ignore the fact that they probably wouldn’t have phones during this time. As always, reblogs and replies absolutely make my day so please let me know what you think!!!

Warnings: Slight dark/controlling Tom, unhealthy relationship. Slight NSFW at the end

Songs: House of Balloons/Glass Table Girls - the weeknd

Pick up the phone - Travis Scott and Young Thug

You just about manage to dash into class, trying to calm down your laboured breathing as you slide into your seat, thankful that Professor Slughorn was busy writing something up on the board.

You pant lightly, unpacking your stuff onto your desk. Your desk mate, a boy by the name of Jamie Grimshaw, grins. He was a rather unaware boy, never seeming to catch onto your half-assed laughs and awkward smiles that suggested the last thing you wanted to be doing was entertaining his poor jokes and conversation. He nudges you with a small grin, almost teasing, and you let out a small awkward laugh, grimacing as you look away.

You look up as you place your bag to the side, your gaze immediately locking onto Tom’s. He’s gazing at you, or rather, your desk mate, with a look of such distaste you have to be sure he’s not actually trying to cast some sort of non-verbal spell. You shoot a warning glare at him and his gaze softens ever so slightly as he looks at you.

Keyword - slightly. Because Tom Riddle was certainly not soft. Even for you, the one who had somehow defied every single rule and wall that Tom had so carefully constructed with such reckless abandon, forcing your way into his life, his heart.

You look away as Professor Slughorn begins droning on to the class, and begin attentively scratching down notes, so absorbed in your work that you don't notice the way your desk mate steals glances at you.

Tom watches from afar, itching with the urge to reach out and wrap his hands around the boy's throat and strangle him till the life seeped out of his undeserving eyes that dared to look at you. He hated the idea of someone else seeing you, and wanting you, to the point where he was sure he’d only be satisfied if he could lock you away and keep you somewhere where only he could see you.

It wasn’t that he was scared you’d leave him, no no. Tom was certain that you couldn’t. His love for you (if you could class it as that) lingered in the spaces between your heartbeat, intertwining so seamlessly with your essence that to let go of him would be to unravel the very fabric of who you've become.

So no, he didn’t feel such a strong desire to keep you hidden because he was scared you'd leave him, but rather because he hated the idea of anyone laying their eyes on you. No one would ever be deserving enough of doing so, and the idea that some people (namely Jamie Grimshaw) had the audacity not just to look at you but to let their lustful gaze linger down to your thighs made him furious, ready to gouge their eyes out.

Stuck in his own mind, Tom snaps out of it when his gaze flickers over to you. He sees you working with diligence, and the suffocating feeling of anger subsides for a second. Your hard work, your drive, it was part of what made Tom fall for you. That, amongst many other things. Surprisingly, he found himself largely drawn to the way you got along with everyone (to an extent). Seemingly demure, you were polite and gentle. Something that would be of great benefit to him as well, for who better than to gain the trust of people than the girl beloved by all?

Then again, with everything that has its benefits, it also has its drawbacks. And that was what he was witnessing now, seeing you go along with Jamie’s flirting in an attempt to be polite. You tried to see the best in everyone and consistently denied the fact that Jamie was flirting with you, insisting that Tom was being irrational and overprotective whenever he’d approach you about it.

The second the lesson is over Tom is swiftly up and out of his seat, looming over your desk as you pack up. You look up at him and smile softly, a sweet gaze that disarms him ever so slightly.

“So, I was wondering whether you’d be free to-” Jamie starts.

Tom’s jaw clenches. How dare he? Such an insolent fool, thinking he had the right to speak to you.

Before you can even speak, Tom’s hand comes down to grab your arm and pull you slightly towards him, speaking up.

“No, she cannot. She will be busy tonight. And the night after that.” Tom says, a venom belying his tone as he drags you away.

He ignores your protests as you walk through the common room and up to his room, his grip on your arm tightening ever so slightly.

“Tom!” You protest, wrenching your arm out of his grip as he closes the door to his room, tossing his bag down as he turns to you.

"Tom, what was that back there?" you demand, your voice a mix of frustration and confusion.

He steps closer, his presence overwhelming as he towers over you.

"I can't stand seeing him look at you like that," he says, his voice low and intense.

You take a step back. "Look at me like what?" you ask, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Like he wants you," Tom replies, his eyes burning into yours. "Like he thinks he has the right to even think about you in that way."

You feel a shiver run down your spine at the intensity of his gaze. "Tom, he's just being friendly," you try to reason, but even to your own ears, your words sound feeble.

Tom's expression darkens, and you realize you've struck a nerve. "Friendly?" he scoffs, his voice dripping with disdain. "There's nothing friendly about the way he looks at you. He wants something from you, something I won't allow him to have."

Tom steps even closer, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the fire in his eyes. "I'm not irrational," he murmurs, his voice softening ever so slightly. "I just can't bear the thought of anyone else having you. You're mine, and I won't let anyone forget that."

Your frustration subsides, and you let out a small sigh, leaning into his touch.

“No one else can have me, Tom. I'm yours.” You murmur, and a small smile tugs at his lips. He leans down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss. His hands tilt your head back slightly, deepening the kiss as you sigh into his mouth, melting at his touch. He pulls away, and you look up at him, a fire ignited within you even after the briefest of touch. His thumb caresses your cheek lovingly before he pulls away, gazing at you with a mix of possessiveness and adoration.

“Good. Let’s do some work now” He mutters, eyes roaming over your face.

It was only the next day when Tom had thought the whole thing was over and done with, and you wouldn't have to deal with it again. He walks into the common room, expecting to find you sitting by the fireplace, reading a book.

You were there, but not alone. Jamie sat by you, his arm draped behind you on the sofa as he chatted to you, clearly making you uncomfortable.

“Jamie, can I help you with something?" you ask, trying to sound polite but firm.

Jamie's smile widens, and he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Actually, I was hoping we could grab a butterbeer sometime?" he says, his voice low.

You laugh nervously.

“Maybe in a few days? I have to do some work right now and it’s-” You say, and Tom is furious, moving over to you.

"Jamie," he says, his voice tight with restrained anger, "I think it's best if you leave her alone. She's not interested."

Jamie's smile falters, but he quickly recovers, his tone mocking. "Oh, I'm sure she can speak for herself, Tom," he retorts, his eyes flickering with challenge.

Before Tom can respond, you intervene, feeling the tension between them escalating dangerously. "Tom, it's fine," you say, trying to diffuse the situation. "Jamie was just leaving."

Tom's jaw clenches, but he nods curtly, his gaze never leaving Jamie's. "See that you do," he says, his voice low and threatening.

With one last defiant look at Tom, Jamie gathers his things and makes a hasty exit, leaving you alone with Tom in the common room.

You shoot Tom a pointed look, silently demanding an explanation for his behaviour, but he merely gestures for you to follow him. Reluctantly, you fall into step behind him as he leads you up to his room, his pace brisk and determined.

Once inside, Tom slams the door shut behind you, his frustration boiling over.

Like a scene from a movie, this conversation is all too familiar, and all the more agitating.

"What were you thinking?" he demands, his voice laced with anger. "Talking to him like that, letting him get too close."

You bristle at his accusatory tone, your temper flaring up. "Excuse me? He just wanted to go out! Why must you assume everyone has bad intentions?” You scoff, and Tom feels his restraint slipping as he lets go of your arms, sighing angrily as his tongue prods at the inside of his cheek.

“Honestly, I have to wonder whether you think sometimes. Do you not see the way he looks at you? The way he stares at your legs when you're in class? Do you know the disgusting things that go through his mind?” Tom says, harshly. You see his anger rising and begin to panic, not wanting it to spiral out of control.

“Tom, I promise you it wasn’t anything. He really just wanted a drink.” You reason, trying to diffuse the tension as you look up at him, placing a hand on his forearm. He looks down at you, anger still evident in his eyes.

Your phone pings, breaking the momentary silence. Your eyes flicker down to it, briefly glancing at the message on the screen. You curse internally, stomach dropping at who had messaged you. It was practically the worst time for them to have messaged. You slip the phone into your pocket, praying Tom won’t probe further.

“Look, Tom. He doesn’t-” You start, but your phone pings again, cutting you off, This time Tom most certainly notices, his eyes also flickering down to your pocket.

“Who’s messaging you?” He asks, as though he can sense your unease. You brush it off, just shaking your head.

“Oh, no one. Just Hannah asking for the homework.” You say, and Tom stares down at you, his gaze scrutinising for a second before he hums, taking a step back. You're partially grateful because if you can get away with this you can avoid the confrontation about Jamie as well. He turns to walk over to his desk and you turn around, going to get your books to join him. Just as you’re doing so, the sound of your ringtone fills the otherwise silent room.

Shit.

You hastily reach for your phone, fumbling with it as you decline the call, cursing. You slowly turn around and Tom is glaring at you, dread settling in the pit of your stomach.

“Seems like the work must be quite urgent if she has to call you as well. Why don't you pick up the phone?” Tom utters, voice strained as he looks over at you.

You laugh nervously, shaking your head as your phone begins ringing again. Jamie’s relentlessness was really beginning to annoy you, and you weren’t sure how on earth you'd explain this to Tom. The fact that Jamie was calling you would be enough to anger Tom, let alone the fact that you lied to him about it.

“Oh no, that’s just Hannah. Bit of a teacher's pet, she panics if she dares to miss a day of school because she was in the infirmary.” You say with a nervous chuckle, trying to lighten the atmosphere slightly as you pray he stops calling you.

A chilling smirk tugs at Tom’s lips, a low laugh escaping his lips, a smile gracing his face. You let out the breath you were holding, thankful that he (by some miracle) bought into it as you also laughed, trying to move on from the topic as soon as possible.

“Pick up the damn phone,” he says suddenly, his voice eerily calm yet laced with a dangerous undercurrent.

The dread in your stomach multiplies tenfold, your smile fading as you take a step back.

“Tom-” You start, but he takes a step closer, hand finding its place on your jaw as he speaks again.

“Pick. up. the. Phone” He says, each word punctuated with a chilling intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. His grip on your jaw tightens slightly, his eyes boring into yours with an unnerving ferocity.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest as you reach for your phone, your fingers trembling with apprehension. With a shaky breath, you answer the call, putting it on speaker.

"Hello?" you say, your voice barely above a whisper, anticipation gnawing at your nerves.

On the other end of the line, Jamie's voice comes through, smooth and confident. "Hey," he says, his tone casual. "Just wanted to see if you're free tonight. Thought we could grab that butterbeer we talked about."

Your pulse quickens, panic rising within you as you glance up at Tom, who is watching you intently, his expression unreadable.

“Oh, uhm-” You begin, a squeak escaping your lips as you feel Tom’s lips on your neck. Your eyes widen as you look down at him, dumbfounded.

“Carry on. Go ahead and speak to him.” He mutters against your neck, pressing kisses along the side.

“I- I uhm. I w-was… fuck” You stammer, a breath gasp escaping your lips as you desperately try and stifle any noises that threaten to escape your lips as Tom nips at the delicate skin on your neck, soothing it with his tongue.

He continues to pepper your neck with kisses, relishing in the way your body shivers under his touch.

His voice, husky and filled with dark amusement, interrupts your stammering. "Oh, what a shame. Seems like you're a little preoccupied at the moment," he taunts, his lips trailing lower to the sensitive skin of your collarbone.

He bites down gently, eliciting a gasp from you as you struggle to maintain your composure.

Tom's fingers creep up your waist, slipping beneath the fabric of your blouse. His touch is possessive, his grip firm as he pulls you closer.

Your voice trembles as you try to regain control of the situation. "I-I'm sorry, Jamie, I can't... tonight," you manage to say, your words punctuated by a soft moan as Tom's lips find your earlobe, nipping at it playfully.

Tom chuckles darkly, his breath tickling your ear. "Tell him you're busy, darling," he whispers, his voice dripping with both amusement and dominance. His hand slides higher, squeezing your breast through the fabric of your bra, causing you to gasp and arch into his touch.

"J-Jamie, I... I can't. I-I have commitments after s-school," You stammer, your voice strained with a mix of pleasure and frustration. Tom's touch is maddeningly intoxicating, clouding your mind and making it difficult to focus on anything else.

There's a brief pause on the other end of the line, and Jamie's voice sounds disappointed. "Alright, no problem. Maybe another time then," he says, his tone tinged with a hint of annoyance. You let out a small whimper as he hangs up, tossing your phone to the side as a string of curses escapes your lips.

Tom, satisfied with his disruption, pulls back. His eyes glance over the myriad of purple bruises scattered all over your neck and chest.

“Good. I’ll make sure my name is the only one you’ll ever remember.” He utters.

Before you can respond, Tom pulls you into a searing kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with a hunger that matches your own.

He manoeuvres you to the bed, not once breaking the kiss as your legs hit the edge, and you fall backwards onto the soft mattress. He lowers himself down over you, kissing you with fevour as he mutters.

“Mine, all mine.”

@mildlyuninformative @chgrch @gillyweeds @anti-hero03 @schaebickel @lillywildly @batmandabest @always-reading

[elegantlyeva]

I loved your last Scott fic and was wondering if you could do something with just him and fluffiness for his girl? (Or as fluffy as he can get)

Burned Breakfast

a/n: Thank you for the request babe! i assumed you met established relationship fluff but if you meant for the pining stages lmk!!

Word Count: 0.6K

The sunlight from the early morning peeks through the blinds, the curtains wide open. One of you forgot to close the blinds, and considering you were the one woken up by the sun’s intrusion, you blame Scott.

Scott, the peaceful man soundly asleep next to you, small snores leaving his lips, despite how many times he’s rejected the idea that he snores.

Early mornings, ones right after a night in with you, were the only times he looked truly at peace. No complaints from any of his co-workers, no gum in his mouth to fidget with and no one but you to irritate him, though he enjoys you.

He had been extra nice yesterday, making dinner for the pair of you after he got home from a particularly good day with Storm Par. So, considering you were up, you thought to return the favor, slipping on your slippers and peeling Scott’s arm that lay heavily on your waist.

He moved a bit, his brows furrowing in agitation, even in sleep, when he doesn’t get his way. Eventually, he relaxes again, and you make your way out of his bedroom.

It wasn’t even half an hour before Scott started to stir, his hand reaching out to grab you, but met with your side of his bed, cold.

Scott sits up abruptly, opening his eyes in a frenzy. You never got up before him. Did you leave in the middle of the night? Had he done something wrong?

The man was contemplating his entire life when he heard a pan fall from the kitchen.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and got up to follow the noise quickly. He was met with his panicked-looking girlfriend running a hand under the sink.

Scott scowls at the sight, scurrying over to you to inspect the damage.

“What the fuck were you trying to do?” he asked incredulously, kissing your cheek in lieu of a good morning.

“Cooking you breakfast,” you frown, moving your hand to motion around the mess you made in the kitchen. “Pancakes and bacon!”

Scott shook his head, laughing slightly. “Oh really?” he asks, moving to wrap his arms around your waist from behind, pushing your burned hand back under the running water when you move it away. “And how’s that working out for you?”

You narrow your eyes playfully, “You can’t be mean. I’m injured,” you say rather dramatically.

Scott rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well, you did that to yourself.” But he moves to the fridge to collect the burn cream he kept there after a nasty incident he had a couple of months back.

He turns off the water for you and snatches your hand towards him so he can apply the cream. “Why were you trying to make me breakfast anyway? Not that I don’t appreciate it.” He raises a brow, and you smile sheepishly.

“I wanted to do something for you.”

“That’s sweet ‘n all, babe, but I promise I’m happy with waking up to you in my bed,” he says, blowing on your burned hand when you wince. “The cream won’t stop the pain, but it’s refreshing, and if you keep applying it, the burn won’t scar.”

“Thanks,” you say flatly, cheeks tinged pink at his words.

“Alright, no offense, but I'm not sure how much I trust this pancake batch,” he starts, staring judgmentally at the (burned) batch you made. You start to protest, but he cuts you off. “It’s fucking early. How about we go back to sleep for another hour, and when we wake up, I'll take you out to the diner?”

The argument dies on your tongue, and you nod, grabbing his hand. “Well, come on, then. I’ve been dying to get back to bed the second the opened curtains that someone forgot to close last night woke me up.”

The corners of his mouth twitch up as he pushes you back into the room, gently. “Thought you wanted to be nice?”

[s0urw00lf]

Protectors: wolf’s bane

A Derek hale x reader story

Summary: y/n, Derek and stiles were tasked with finding out who it was that sent Allison the message that night in the school.

“Faster?” She asked checking her rearview mirror

"Much faster" Stiles replied looking out the back window at some hunter who was hot tailing them in Derek's car.

Y/n switched gears and pressed down a little bit more on the gas, "and he said id never step foot in the drivers seat" y/n muttered to herself.

"Y/n im not sure you're quite grasping the concept of a car chase" stiles said looking back.

"If she goes any faster it'll kill us" Scott said from the back, as y/n looked through her rearview mirror

"well if she doesn't they're gonna kill us" stiles argued back. He had a point so y/n pressed down harder on the gas's pedal.

Stiles kept looking back "hey they're gone" he said, making y/n check her mirrors again and she slowed down a little bit.

Stiles bought out a radio that y/n guessed belonged to his father. 'All units, suspect is in foot heading into the ironworks' the sheriff said. Y/n sighed speeding back up, quickly arriving at the location, stopping when she saw Derek crouching behind a machine. 'Get in' stiles said opening the door and hopping in the back. Someone from above them began firing shots at them and y/n was quick to pull off before he could even close the door.

"What part of laying low don't you understand?" Scott scolded from the backseat.

"Damnit i had him" Derek said ignoring Scott's comment.

"Who the alpha?" Stiles asked. "Yes! He was right in front of me but then the friggin police showed up" Derek said aggrieved.

"Woah, hey they're just doing their jobs" stiles was quick to defend and Derek practically glared him back into his seat

"yeah thanks to someone who decided to make me the most wanted fugitive in the entire state!" Derek said now glaring at Scott.

"Can we seriously get passed that? i made a dumb ass mistake, i get it but y/n didn't say anything" Scott whined.

"Hey i was in the middle of keeping you two plus the three additions alive while trying not to think about my boyfriend who was lying dead in the school parking lot. So excuse me for not being all that rational" y/n said defensively

"alright!" Stiles shouted from the back to shut everyone up.

"How did you find him?" Stiles asked.

Derek looked between Scott and stiles and shook his head brushing off the question. "Can you try to trust us for at least half a second?" Scott asked

"yeah both of us" stiles added, earning another glare from Derek.

"Come on der, share with the class" y/n muttered lowly, knowing everyone in the car heard.

"The last time i talked to my sister she was close to figuring something out, she found two things. First a guy named Harris-"

"our chemistry teacher?" Stiles asked interrupting Derek.

"Why him?" Scott questioned

"I don't know yet" Derek said

"and what's the second?" Scott asked.

"This symbol" Derek said as he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and showed it to the two, as y/n had already known this bit of information.

Scott made a face that y/n caught through the mirror, "what? You know what that is?" She asked.

"I've seen it. On a necklace" He trailed off. Derek looked at him in confusion before Scott finished off his statement "Allison's necklace"

——————————-

" this is gonna be impossible you know" Scott says to y/n and stiles as they walk through the entrance of the school.

"Why don't you just ask her if you can borrow it?" Stiles asks.

"And how is he supposed to do that?" Y/n asked.

"Easy ' hey, Allison can I borrow your necklace? To see if there's anything on it or in it? That can lead me to an alpha werewolf that i need to kill in order to get back together with you'" Stiles says. Scott smacks his chest "dude you're not helping" he says.

Stiles points to y/n "why cant you just ask to borrow it? You know girl code or whatever." Stiles asks waiving his arms in his usual manner.

Y/n looked at him as if he'd grown two heads "you want me to ask to borrow an heirloom that currently lies in the hands of someone I'm not even sure likes me, keep in mind said family hates me the previous owner especially, and if by chance i was to be seen with said heirloom id be shot in the heart with an wolfsbane laced arrow? No thanks" y/n said shaking her head before walking off.

A little later y/n came across Scott being threatened by Jackson, she groaned quietly stomping her foot before she walked up and grabbed him by his shoulder "hiya Jackson, i seem to recall where you got this little... scratch from" she said, pulling down the neck of his jacket slightly to get a better view of it.

"You don't happen to want another one do ya?" She asked in a sickly sweet tone.

Jacksons face mirrored someone who'd seen a ghost as he shook his head no. "Oh no? Well id suggest you run along then hmm?" She said pushing him forward and he hurried away.

"So he knows huh?" She asked folding her arms leaning against the lockers.

"Yeah" Scott said, looking worried. "Well let's hope I'm not assigned to him" she muttered walking away.

———————

Y/n followed stiles to where Scott was sitting at the lunch table, separating only so she could sit across from them.

“did you get it?" Stiles asked as he sat down.

"Not exactly" Scott answered, shaking his head

"Well what happened?" Y/n questioned as she sat her backpack on the ground behind her and plucked her phone out of one of the pockets.

"She told me not to talk to her at all" he said defeated.

Stiles took a huge bite of his chicken tender "so she's not giving you the neck-"

"she's not giving me the necklace" scott confirmed.

Y/n placed her head in her hand. "Scott what the hell did you do" she said, lightly banging her head on the table feeling defeated.

“I showed her photos of us from when we were together.” He stated as if it was obvious.

Y/n’s eyes widened in shock and slowly lifted her head up to look at Scott. “You did what?!” She all but shouted.

Scott and stiles looked at her confused.

She dropped her head to her hands and dragged them through her hair. “Scott she already feels bad for breaking up with you. Showing her those photos was just about the dumbest thing you could’ve done. Not only for the necklace but for your relationship.” She explained.

Scott groaned, letting his head fall back. “Okay well did you find anything else out?” Stiles asked still chewing his food.

Scott sighed “just that i know nothing about girls and that they’re completely psychotic.” Scott said defeated

“That’s high school for ya” y/n muttered.

”okay, well i came up with with a plan b just in case anything like this happened” stiles said

”what’s plan b?

“just steal the stupid thing” stiles said

”that’s what i thought he was gonna do in the first place” y/n said as she checked her phone for any messages from Derek

“can we try to at least get to Harris?” Scott asked, seemingly wanting to weigh out his options.

stiles shook his head “my dad put him under a 24-hour protective detail okay the necklace is all we got, steal it. Thank you.” He replied

scott sighed in defeat meeting y/n’s eye from across the table as she began packing up her things “look it shouldn’t be that hard, you’re a werewolf for god-sake just steal the damn thing” she said, standing up and walking out of the lunchroom.

——[time skip]——

When the last bell of the day rang, y/n met up with stiles, whom she'd asked for a ride since 1. Derek wasn’t supposed to be anywhere on school grounds at the moment, and 2. She wanted to see Noah before he went off to the parent teacher conference, which she didn’t have the best feeling about.

Y/n walked in stiles room, immediately sensing Derek’s presence, she looked at him in irritation “what the hell de-“ but the sound of Noah calling out for stiles cuts her off

“hey stiles!”

“yo da-erek” stiles faltered.

Derek's eyes widened and guestered for stiles to deal with his dad who was just outside the door.

Y/n listened to the exchange between the two stillinakis completely forgetting her intentions for coming as she stared at her careless boyfriend.

"What'd you say?"

"What? I said yo... D-Dad'."

"Uh, listen, I've got something I've got to take care of, but I'm gonna be there tonight. I mean, your first game."

"Uh, listen, I've got something I've got to take care of, but I'm gonna be there tonight. I mean, your first game."

"I'm very happy for you. And I'm really proud of you."

"Oh, thanks. Me too. I'm happy and proud... Of myself."

"So they're really gonna let you play, right?"

Yeah, dad. I'm first line. Believe that?"

"I'm very proud."

"Oh, me too. Again, I'm- oh." Noah goes to hug Stiles. "Huggie... Huggie, huggie..." Stiles trailed off awkwardly patting his dads back

“Alright see you there,” Noah said pulling away from his son

”take it easy” Stiles responded

Noah nodded, walking away before pausing “y/n how about coming to say hello next time” he said, and then took his leave.

y/n sighed as her memory had been re jogged

Stiles entered the room again letting out a sigh of relief as he closed the door, only to be pinned to it by Derek, y/n was quick to put herself between the two “Hey, cool it alright” she warned putting some distance between them.

She could handle the jabs all day long but as soon as it began to get handsy she wasn’t going to tolerate it. Y/n decided it was okay for her to move now and settled down on Stiles's bed. Derek quickly looks from y/n to Stiles and points to him

“if you say one word-“ he began but was quickly off by Stiles

“oh, what, you mean like hey Dad Derek hales in my bedroom bring your gun?” He asked sarcastically.

Derek doesn't say anything at his remark, realizing just how ridiculous it sounded. Stiles took that as his cue to keep going “Yeah that’s right, if I'm harboring your fugitive ass that means it's my house, my rules buddy” he said back handing Derek’s shoulder.

Derek nodded in response and fixed Stiles’ jacket, and Stiles did the same to him with a goofy grin on his face and walked away but jumped when Derek fake lunged

“oh my god!”

y/n let a laugh slip through her lips at Derek’s antics.

“Scott didn’t get the necklace?” Derek asked

”no he’s still working on it, but there’s something else we can try” Stiles answered

Catching both y/n and Derek’s attention, as she hadn’t known any of what he was talking about, Derek made a ‘what’ gesture telling him to elaborate.

“The night we were trapped at the school, Scott sent a text to Allison asking her to meet him there,” Stiles said

”So?”

”So, Scott didn’t send it,” y/n said, slowly catching on to what Stiles was saying

”well can you find out who did?” Derek asked

“No not us, but I think I know of someone who can,” he said

—————

“you want me to do what?” Danny asked baffled

“Trace a text,” Stiles said casually ” I came here to do lab work-- that's what lab partners do.”

”And we will! ...Once you trace the text.”

“And what makes you think I know how?” Danny asked fidgeting slightly

“I had him look up your arrest report, so–“ y/n cut in

”I-I was thirteen. They dropped the charges.” Danny said defensively

“Whatever,” Stiles said pitching his voice up a few octaves

.“No, we're doing lab work.” Danny stated.

He then grabs a stool from somewhere near y/n and pulls it up beside Stiles, sitting down and looking at the computer.

Y/n watched Danny in amusement as he looked back to Derek who sat in a chair next to her, fake reading a book.

“Uh- who is he again?” He asked

“My cousin… Miguel” Stiles said, the laugh y/n almost let out would’ve had Derek death staring at her, so she decided against it

”he’s also my boyfriend, cute one isn’t he?” y/n asked teasingly

Danny nodded slightly “I guess,” he said feeling uncomfortable

Looking back at him y/n finally noticed the dried blood on his shirt, but before she Could cover it from Danny’s wandering eyes he spoke up

“is that blood on his shirt?” He asked

Stiles whipped around to see and Y/n winced, “Yeah, yes. Well, he gets this horrible nose bleeds” Stiles explained, y/n had never been prouder at how quick Stiles was to come up with a line than at that moment.

“Hey, Miguel?” Stiles said, turning to Derek. Derek lifted his head with a glare dead set on stiles. “I thought I told you you could borrow one of my shirts,” he said, gesturing to his dresser.

y/n watched in amusement as Derek slammed the book shut and began to take off his shirt, walk towards the dresser, and grumpily rummage through it for a shirt

”uh stiles”

“yes”

” This… no fit!” He said as he tugged at the shirt irritably

”then try something else on” Stiles stated obviously

y/n then got up and pulled a shirt out handing it to him with a small smile on her face, Derek squinted his eyes but pulled the shirt over his head

”Hey, this looks pretty good, what do you think Danny,” y/n asked turning to Danny who was not so discretely eyeing Derek

”Huh?”

”the shirt” Stiles confirms catching on to y/ns game

” It uh- it's not really his color” he answered timidly

“I agree,” y/n said inspecting the the shirt with a fake frown

Derek glared between Stiles and y/n before pulling off the shirt.

Y/n saw Stiles turn the computer to Danny

”you swing for a different team but you still play ball don’t ya Danny boy?”

”you’re horrible people”

”We know it keeps us awake at night, anyway about that text”

“Stiles! None of these fit!” Derek seethed frustrated

Stiles just looked from Derek to Danny with wide eyes

“I'll need the ISP, the phone number, and the exact time of the text,” Danny said making Stiles lean back and throw his arms up in a quiet celebration

Y/n paced stiles while she waited for Danny to retrieve the information they needed

“There. The text was sent from a computer. This one.” Danny said making y/n walk behind them and peer over their shoulders

“Registered to that account name?” Derek asked

“No, no, no, no. That can't be right.”

Y/n frowned in confusion at the name she read on the computer

‘Melissa McCall’

——

“Did you get the picture?” Scott asked, voice ringing through the car as Stiles had him on speakerphone

” Yeah, I did, and it looks just like the drawing.

“Hey, is there something on the back of it?” Derek asked after nearly yanking stiles arm so he could bring the phone closer to him

“I mean there's gotta be something-- an inscription, an opening, something…” y/n said from the back seat

“No, no, the thing's flat. And, no, it doesn't open. There's nothing in it, on it, around it, nothing. And where are you? You're supposed to be here. You're first line.” Scott said to Stiles, and just as his sentence finished y/n heard coach in the background

“Where the hell is Bilinski???”

“Man, you're not gonna play if you're not here to start…”

“I know. Look, if you see my dad, can you tell him... tell him I'll be there, I'll just be a little bit late, okay? All right, thanks.”

“You're not gonna make it,” Y/n said grimly. She knew how happy he was when he got first line, and how happy Noah was for him

“I know,” Stiles responded with the same emotion

“And you didn't tell him about his mom, either,” Derek said

“Not 'til we find out the truth.”

“By the way? One more thing…”

“Yeah?”

Derek grabbed the back of stiles neck and rammed his head into the steering wheel

“Oh, God! What the hell was–“

“You know that was for. Go. Go!” Derek said, rushing Stiles out of the car.

he then looked back at y/n who raised her brows, “you wouldn’t dare” she said in a challenging tone.

“Oh just you wait” he replied with a smirk. Y/n raised her brows challengingly, making her way out of the car but Derek grabbed her arm

”where are you going?” He asked

” With Stiles, god forbid but if the alpha is in there he’s gonna need some sort of help” she explained

Derek faltered, “Just, just be careful ok?” He said

y/n smiled lovingly “Always am,” she said before closing the door

———

the pair had been walking around the hospital for 10 minutes

”yeah I said I can't find her,” Stiles said

”look, ask for Jennifer, she’s my uncle's nurse” Derek replied over the phone

”well he’s not here either-“ stiles said, making y/n look into the room in confusion \

”shit, stiles we gotta go. Now!” Y/n shouted just as Derek had confirmed her suspicions of Peter being the alpha.

Y/n looked to the side only to come face to face with Peter Hale.

“Good to see you y/n,” he said before looking over to Stiles” and you must be Stiles”

Y/n grabbed Stiles’ arm and began rushing away only to be stopped by Jennifer, peters nurse

”what are you doing here, visiting hours are over,” she said menacingly

stiles began to look back and forth between Peter and Jennifer “You.. and him… you’re-you’re the one who- and oh my- and he’s— oh, my god, I'm gonna die.” He said

“You aged beautifully” y/n sarcastically muttered to Peter

Y/n pushed him aside, just as Derek came behind her and punched the nurse unconscious

” That’s not nice, she's my nurse,” Peter said fainting a sad tone

“She's a psychotic bitch helping you kill people, get out of the way”

”you think I killed Laura on purpose? One of my own family?”

This set Derek off as he jumped at his uncle, who threw him into a wall.

Y/n wasn’t far behind, she sent a swift kick to Peter's stomach, knocking him off his feet. He was quick to regroup and grabbed y/n by her arm, flipped her over, and knocked her into the wall, much like he did that night in the school.

He then went over and picked Derek, (who struggled against his grip) up by his neck and began to drag him “My mind, my personality, were burned out of me. I was being driven by pure instinct.” He said before he dropped him.

“So what, you want forgiveness?” Y/n groaned from behind him kicking his feet from under him just as Derek sent a punch to his face.

Peter was back on his feet in seconds, grabbing Derek by his collar“ I want understanding.” He said before headbutting him and landing a kick to his stomach, sending him rolling back

“Do you have any idea what it was like for me during those years? Slowly healing, cell by cell?” He asked turning to y/n who stood ready.

He sent a kick her way but y/n dodged it, catching his foot and knocking him off balance with hers, she then got on top of hem and sent punch after punch to his face, just as she went to throw another, he caught her fist and headbutted her kicking her into the office desk so hard that it knocked her unconscious.

——

When she woke up she was face to face with a worried stiles

“Oh thank god, I though I was gonna have to hit you” he said

Y/n groaned at her ponding head, she looked around and frowned when she didn’t see Derek or Peter

Stiles must have seen it on her face because he immediately answered the question in her head

“He left with Peter” he said

Y/n frowned as tears came to her eyes, she was in a woozy state of mind and felt upset about Derek leaving and the pounding headache she had.

Y/n’s number one problem was how emotional she was when she was in pain.

Stiles panicked, having never expected to see his sister in this state of mind. He grabbed her and bought her in for a hug, telling her that everything was okay.

“Why’d he leave?” She asked sniffling, after a couple of minutes of slowly coming back to her right mind.

Stiles sighed beside her, now his arm rested on her shoulder “I don’t know” he said, wondering the same thing

[katalyist]

Life series!Grian a survivor not a traitor

Alternative title: I thought about Life series!Grian for too long again and because Tumblr doesn't have a character limit I'm putting my thoughts on the Internet.

I'm not normal in how while watching Cleo's secret life final episode there was a silent agreement that Grian was no loyal when they had that conversation with Scott when they were trying to convince Gem to be on their side.

"I mean, don't ask about Grian's loyalty"

And Scott response was "I have never seen a man drop a pair of sunglasses quicker in my life. As soon as Joel dropped, the bad boy glasses were off"

To which Grian responded "My boys died, what did you want from me?"

Like how is Grian seen has someone that betrays or isn't loyal to his teammates? HE IS LOYAL, HE IS JUST TOO COWARD. He has never betray a teammate first.

Look, for example to third life: He promised Scar his life, and altough he warns the rest of players at the beginning about the scams Scar was doing, he always do what Scar did, he helped him, he create traps and didn't thought on betraying him until Scar betray him first, until Scar did it, when he recovered he was so mad and just jump to them shouting out that Scar was a traitor. AND THEN when Scar apologies and offers Grian to have the win he refuses because he still considers Scar his ally, and then the cactus ring happens and he feels bad, he feels bad for killing Scar, I don't think a traitor would be that bad to the point of killing themselves

Then in last life, where he killed two of his four teammates and started his reputation as "allies killer". First of all, when he turned red he had the oppurtinity to just turn on them, sure, he went back to the nether and threat Mumbo, but it was mostly joking and I think the most messed up thing was how afraid he was of not having any teammates that he was willed his best friend but couldn't find the courage on himself. The next episode he has already a plan to go back with his team AND get Joel out of red, like- he planned a way to be back with his allies and get his new ally (that if I had to remember you, was the one that killed him, but Grian was perfectly with him because he understands it was for the red impulses) out of red. Once he gets his yellow life back and goes back to the southlanders for a happy teammate reunion and discovers Jimmy was exiled he doesn't hesitate in saying he doesn't want him back because he betrayed the southlands; they have the votation, he says 'no' inmediatly and is surprised that other people said yes but doesn't oppose to it.

When Mumbo and Jimmy turned red he didn't try to kill them until their few attempts of murder, he did not attack Mumbo when he tried to end cristal him, he didn't attack them, even when they had that terrible attempt of a trap for him and Martyn. He attacked them when Jimmy physically tries to punch him to the trap that he looses the little patient he had left and kills him and then Mumbo for trying to stop him. Then Martyn betrayed him because of the boogeyman curse and when Grian finds Impulse he sounds so wounded because of that but even then he doesn't try to go for him, he makes a plan with Impulse to put a Wither on the base of team B.E.A.S.T because they were one of the biggest threats. Once Impulse died he was back with Joel and he didn't betray or left him, even when he had the opportunity to join bigger alliances than him.

With that out of the way we arrive to the fatal Double Life, I feel that this is the catalyst of Grian's character misinterpretation, mostly because of the cheat situation but: 1, that him and Scar and soulmates doesn't mean they are allies (see the two pair of soulmates that were literally divorce) and 2, he really tried to protect Scar and be a good ally. He made a base, he warned Scar to not go to places he could die and he even trust him with the sugar cane, when he lost it he trust Scar the sand he isn't even that angry or dissapointed on him. It also applies to BigB, he was a great ally with him too! He gave him sugarcane, cookies, tnt, they didn't attack eachother and the only reason why he killed him was because he forgot BigB was soulmates with Ren in his red madness, he even had a funeral for him and apologise for killing him. That is not traitor behaviour if you ask me.

And then finally Limited Life (my excuse and the real season I wanted to talk because I haven't left that bread bridge), the season where Grian is in his most loyal teammate arc of all. He is a coward of course, he plays safe always, in every single season, and that is what ends up being one of the reasons why Joel ends up dead. The bad boys were too reckless and idiots (in an affectionate way, I love them) for him to not fear for their lives constantly, and yes they almost felt apart, but that was after Jimmy killed Grian. Grian left Jimmy get the kills, they were trying to save him, when Tango (the boogeyman) killed Jimmy he didn't took the two hours from him because that would had permakill him, at the end Jimmy didn't die because of him, he just slip from the platform. They had the funeral and all, he left diamonds at his grave as an offer.

With Joel it is a little different, Grian didn't betray him, he didn't kill him, but he wasn't there because he was afraid of dying, in the middle episode 7 Joel wants to murder the family because they wanted to kill Jimmy "It wasn't their fault he died" trying to persude him to not do that to which Joel answers "I'm gonna send Scar a message" and Grian almost begs "No Joel, you got to be careful or I'm gonna be alone. I'm gonna be a singular bad boy" but he doesn't follow him, he doesn't go to kill people with him because they don't have a plan and it's obvious they will die.

Grian is a survivor, when he notices things are getting ugly he looks for a way out. When Joel goes on his murderous rampage after they talk to BigB he reunite again with him and Pearl to offer himself as a ally, making a list of all the things he is useful for, selling himself because he knows he will be alone at the end of that episode and alone players are easy targets. At first he wants them to become bad boys, he doesn't want to leave the mark, but they refused, and a survivor has to do what they have to do. He isn't even hiding why he wants to be friends with them and they don't have a problem with that.

"I have already kind of accepted he's gonna die in a way" he says while making a trap for the nosy neighbours while watching how Joel died (again)

"I mean, you completely abandon him at this point" Pearl points out (and if I watched Pearl more I could talk about how Life Series Pearl seems to have really trust issues with people that is so confident in leaving allies behind because she keeps repeating how Grian is not with Joel, she is so 'I will die for you', and it was prove in the final of secret life, I love her so much).

And Grian doesn't deny it, he does try to excuse his behavior with a "Joel reaches a point where he just loses his mind completely and he was way past that a while ago. Jimmy's death has kind of got an adverse affect on him" just to be silent a second, finish placing the TNT cards and going "But I will have to go and see if he is okay in a minute"

He cares about his last truly ally even when he knows Joel will die, Grian can't just stand still and wait for it to happen "I'm gonna have to go and see if Joel is okay. He must be on less than an hour and if I don't say bye, I'm gonna regret it"

And once he is with Joel again he doesn't hide that he has allied with the nosy neighbours from him. It is the first thing he tells him actually "I've just been like making new friends because you have lost your mind". That is not betray behavior, that is not 'I'm gonna back stab you' or 'I'm leaving you now'. And Joel gets it, he gets that Grian is too coward to confront people directly, that he is not a pvper and accepts him like that. And then they have this conversation on Skynet while trying to get kills for Joel:

"Yeah, do you know what would be really funny? If I just knocked you off right now but I won't, I won't, I won't do that"

"I would do that for you. I would do that for you. Bad boys for life"

HOW IS THAT NOT LOYALTY? Grian, the one that is afraid of death, willing to die for his ally? Without hesitation answering that yes, he would do that for Joel. We have the hole "Kill me Joel. KILL ME" dialogue and scene after that even. Grian didn't wanted Joel to died, when he has five minutes Grian tries to tell him to kill him again before Joel denies. When they are going to see who Joel can kill is when he starts hesitating because he would lose two hole hours to get Joel back to just one hour, he is balancing saving his allies with keeping himself alive and at the end Joel's rampage ends up killing him and Grian is without his bad boy.

He enters in full survivor mode and downplays Joel's death in front of everybody but contradicting his discourse of 'It was getting expensive to keep him alive' once everyone is gone he tells Pearl and BigB they should have a funeral for Joel fully knowing they weren't his allies. He makes Joel a grave too, like they did with Jimmy and says some words for him. How could that not be loyalty? The last episode he uses the bad boy skin, all season he forgot to use it and had to be remember by the others to use it, and then he puts it even if he 'isn't a bad boy anymore' to honor his allies.

I think the most close he was to betray an ally was when at the end he enacted the sword and ally with Impulse and Etho whitouth talking it with Pearl and it ending with both Etho and Pearl killing eachother to be in peace. When they first met after Grian enactes the sword and Pearl goes to kill he tries to stop her, but he doesn't defend her (or Etho), he just tells them to stop. Grian character just... always leaves his allies do what they want? even if it is not the best for them, it is something he does with every one of his alliance really, he does his own and they do his own, Cleo actually points it out on their last episode while they are talking to the heart fundation and Grian gets bored and goes to do his plan to get Gem and Cleo is like 'yeah, he does his own things, don't pay attention to him'.

In Secret Life he was also truly loyal to the roomates, in part I think because he was afraid of loosing his only oportunitty to get some friends after three episodes of loneliness. Grian is always so desesperate to make allies every season, make people like him because it would mean someone would fight for him. The rommates is a very solid team and he reassures himself and they how he made the correct decision. They are not as attach as he was with his bad boys (that, talking about them, he had this weird no-alliance with Joel, changing hearts and not really attacking eachother until the very end) but it is stable.

Grian includes them in his plans, if they are not on board he respects it, but when he thinks it is something that can protect them he insists. He insists they should go to Joel's platform where he hide from the zombie apocalypse because it is the easiest to defend and they were chase by the people with more health on the server. When Etho died they took it seriously, when they are scaping he goes first through the portal that belongs to Gem, Impulse and Scott because "No point both of us dying" he could have left Cleo go first to be more safe but he didn't, he tries to make a trap to get Gem and the Scotts and he tells Cleo to back off because they would get hurt if they stay to close because he will manually activate it.

My conclusion? Grian is not a traitor, he has never betray his teammates until they cross the line first. He is a bad teammate? Oh, totally, not because he won't provide his allies with supplies or plans but because the moment it becomes dangerous, too risky for his constant safe plays he distants himself because he doesn't like risky plays, he is an expert in the 'long game' even if he won't win anything with it, he also has some kind of honor (if you want to put it that way) he won't attack the weakest unless he is corner to do it to keep himself alive, he always goes for the biggest alliance, the people with most hearts, the people with most potential of giving to bring them down with the rest.

As always thank you for reading how normally sane I'm about Life series Grian. Again, I write this mini kinda essays on the fly and don't check facts too much but Grian himself implying he is not loyal had me "are you sure about that?" and then this was write on my drafts. Thanks for coming to my Grian talk!

[simplyholl]

Under The Stars

Summary: A beautiful night in nature leads to some fun.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ ONLY. Minors DNI. Established relationship. Fingering.

See My Masterlist Here

You had been looking forward to this trip all month. Tony reserved a camping spot for all the Avengers. He said it would be good for everyone to get some fresh air. As spoiled as he is, you figured he meant you were going glamping. You imagined lavish tents with mattresses and air conditioning.

When you and the rest of the team arrived, you were surprised that Tony only had sleeping bags and regular tents for each of you. You all had to pair up, Tony and Pepper, Sam and Steve, Bruce and Natasha, Scott and Clint, Wanda and Vision, Thor and Loki, and you and your boyfriend, Bucky.

Tony gave the boys tent duty. You, Wanda, Natasha, and Pepper sat in your chairs by the lake enjoying a few drinks while watching. The tents put up a good fight against Earth’s mightiest heroes. Scott assembled his and Clint’s in just a few minutes. He explained that he used to go camping all the time as a kid. The others weren’t so lucky. Thor snapped one of the poles almost immediately. Loki stood watching in disgust, his arms folded across his chest.

Sam was trying to put it together while Steve silently read the instructions. Vision finished his right after Scott. Bruce pushed his glasses up on his nose as he read the instructions then did each step. Bucky looked around at the others trying to mimic what they were doing. Tony gave Scott ten dollars to assemble his. When everyone was finally finished, Pepper got out the picnic baskets she packed.

You all spread out on the blankets you brought. You were happy to get a break from all the hustle and bustle of New York. You and Bucky shared the small cake Pepper placed in each basket. You couldn’t wait until it got dark. The stars were what you had looked forward to the most.

It was a lot cooler at night than during the day. You were thankful you brought an extra blanket. You covered yourself and Bucky, laying on his chest as you stargazed. The team talked about the beautiful night sky. Everyone was laughing and talking amongst themselves.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day.” Bucky whispers in your ear, his hand laying on your stomach. “We’ve been together all day.” You smile back. You realize what he means when he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties. “We can’t do that here.” You say quietly, trying not to catch anyone’s attention.

“Guess you’ll have to be quiet then.” He smirks, moving his hand lower. You look towards the others, but they weren't paying attention to you. They were too entranced with the beautiful night sky. Bucky dips two fingers inside, curling them perfectly. You clench around them, checking again to make sure your teammates don't see you.

"They aren't payin' attention to us, babe. Relax." He swirls the rough pad of his thumb against your clit, your vision blurs around the edges. "Already?" Bucky smirks, pumping his thick digits in and out of you. You never lasted long with him. He knew your body like it was his own, and to him it was. You belonged to him in every sense of the word.

His cold, vibranium hand grips your thigh, pulling your legs apart as he works his fingers faster, his thumb swirling in tandem. You were so close just from feeling his metal hand so close to your softest parts. Bucky never touched you with it during sex. He was still afraid a small part of when he was the Winter Soldier lurked somewhere deep inside him. So there was no way he would risk hurting you when he was in his most fragile state.

He lost control when he was intimate with you. He held himself back just in case something happened. "Bucky, please touch me with it." You beg, quietly, reaching for the back of his neck. His brows furrow as realization sinks in. "I can't, angel. What if i hurt you?"

"I trust you." You whisper. That statement alone destroyed all his hesitation. His icy fingers replaced his warm digits. You shiver from the contrast. "You like when I touch you with this? My sweet baby, she thinks she could handle it rough." You whine, eyes widening when you realize you were loud.

Bucky covers your mouth with his free hand, slipping his finger in your mouth, his thumb stroking your cheek. You suck your arousal off his finger. He's never been like this with you before. He was always so gentle. You loved this new side of him. His vibranium thumb swipes your clit as he whispers against your ear. "When we get home, I'll fuck you so hard, you won't be able to walk for a week. You'd like that wouldn't you?"

You cum around his metal fingers, his hand over your mouth barely conceals your cry. He lets you ride your orgasm out, flesh hand leaving your mouth, and smoothing down your hair. "You did so good for me." He praises, placing a kiss to your forehead. "Can we make it through one outing without someone fucking? What are we lovesick teenagers?! At least wait until you're in the damn tent!" Tony yells. You and Bucky smile at each other before bursting into a fit of laughter. "Sorry!" You both shout.

Tags

@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @multifandom-worlds @loz-3 @megharat-barnes-reid @kats72 @crimson25 @mochie85 @cakesandtom @lokidokieokie @theallknown213 @alexakeyloveloki @tmilover1993 @yeaiamme2 @pigeonmama @yeehawbrothers @lokischambermaid @fictive-sl0th @nomajdetective @goblingirlsarah @foxherder @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @freegardenbanananeck @lamentis-10 @jainaeatsstars @queenshu @justsebstan

[areyouwell]

Heliophobia

Noun: An extreme and irrational fear of light. Children or adults with heliophobia experience an extreme aversion to sunlight and may seek darkness in response.

Ch.8

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

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!Mutant!Reader

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence

Word Count: 15.8K

A/N: bejeezus this was a tough one to get through, crazy how i thought i might be able to fit these last two chapter in one it would have been like 30k words... insane behaviour from me. also i really like writing horror scenes :D

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

“Let me OUT!” Logan cringed as what he assumed was your foot collided with the oak door, thumping against the abused wood. You’d been at this ever since you’d woken up, throwing various objects at the door only for it to remain sealed shut, only succeeding in creating some kind of shattered glass trap after pelting a vase at the panels. Logan sighed heavily, checking his watch. Three hours. You’d been furiously screaming for three hours, trying every fucking trick in the book to get him or anyone else to open the door. Scott had to hold him back when you pretended to be hurt, whimpering and gasping behind the door as if you’d broken a bone. Only to scream in pure, unbridled rage when you realised it hadn’t worked. 

Devious motherfucker. 

You weren’t the only one either. They had Erin held in another room, only she was taking her isolation much better. It was the safest option whilst Charles worked on restoring each subject’s memories. They’d started with Morgana, and Logan didn’t think he’d ever be able to shake the image of crimson blood leaking from every orifice of that girl’s face as she writhed on the floor from his head. But the shift in personality hadn’t been too great. She was still pretty relaxed and unserious, but now she was a lot quieter. Subdued. Like she’d had the hope beaten out of her. 

It fucking terrified him. How much would you change after Charles restored your memories? Would you still smile the same? Laugh the same? Would you still want to be around him? With him?

Would you still love him?

Logan sighed. It was selfish of him, for that to be his most pressing concern, but he didn’t know what he’d do if, after all this, you never looked at him again. Not in the same way. His heart constricted in his chest, dread pooling in his gut. He needed to entertain these scenarios. He needed to prepare for every eventuality. Even if it broke him apart.

“She still at it?”

He’d been too wrapped up in his head to register the light footsteps from down the hall, curly red hair bouncing at Morgana’s shoulders as she approached with two cups of coffee. She’d cleaned herself up since her ordeal, even adding winged eyeliner on either side of her scarlet eyes. Logan bristled slightly, though he truly didn’t mean it. Instinct had his muscles tensing and his gaze narrowing, the night he lost you playing in his mind’s eye, Morgana’s blank expression as she slowed his heartbeat, her shining irises.

But he made himself relax. She’d proven herself a friend to you, her concern touching a part of him that recognised he could trust her with you. Releasing a breath, Logan nodded in answer to her question. “Yeah… Hasn’t stopped.” He tried in vain to keep the defeat from his voice, gratefully taking the coffee Morgana held out to him. “How’s the other one?”

“Erin? She’s… hollow, I guess. One of our friends we’d left behind, she was kinda seeing him but also kinda not. It was complicated between them…” Morgana slid down the wall to sit on the floor, crossing her legs at the knee. Logan joined her, exhaling as he took the weight off his feet. 

The silence wasn’t exactly comfortable, and Logan was acutely aware of Morgana’s guilt. Having her memories restored, she now knew she played a critical role in your capture, and if it wasn’t for her, none of this would have happened. She opened her mouth to speak, but Logan beat her to it. 

“Don’t. You don’t gotta apologise. You didn’t know what you were doin’.” An apology would mean nothing to him. Sure, she’d aided your capture, but she’d also helped your escape, and monitored your blood pressure on the flight back to the mansion. She’d taken care of you where Logan couldn’t, and he was grateful for that. 

Morgana simply nodded silently, unshed tears shining in her eyes as she tried to smile. “Yeah, I know. Doesn’t make remembering any easier though…” she paused, fiddling with the handle of her mug. “Don’t do this to her.”

Logan blinked. “What’dya mean?” He didn’t mean to growl, and felt a little bad when the girl tensed slightly, before taking a deep breath.

“Don’t do this. There’s shit Kreva did that wasn’t documented, Logan. Special assignments, he called them. She took the brunt of it, every fucking time,” Morgana took a breath, angrily wiping at a disobedient tear sliding down her face. Logan’s stomach hollowed. He thought everything was detailed in the file. He thought he knew everything other than the last two months… “She wanted to protect us. Where the rest of us would fight to get away, she’d fight to go. It was her way of making sure we were safe, or I guess, as safe as we could be.” Morgana drew her knees up to her chest, her arms hugging around her shins. 

He couldn’t breathe, the steel lump in his throat clogging his airways, making oxygen rare. Why did you always have to be a fucking martyr? Why did you always have to put yourself last? Did you not know how important you were? How loved you were? Did you not realise how much it fucking hurt to see you in pain? And now he knew he wasn’t the only one, Morgana’s tears solidifying the impact you made on her, too. “What happened?” he asked a little shakily, bracing himself for whatever horrors he was about to hear.

Morgana clenched her jaw, her eyes closing against the nightmarish memories of her own past. “Field experiments. No point in creating an army if you don’t know how effective they’d be, right? I… I only did a few, but they were the shit you’d read in hidden government documents, ya know? Send us to war-torn countries to tear apart their refugee camps and hospitals. Infiltrate rebellions and silence their leaders before the spark of change could fan into a flame. 

“And nobody was better than Phantom. Entire towns crumbled to dust in a night. Politicians were brought to their knees with nothing but a flick of her wrist. She was an instrument of chaos, Logan. Of death. It’s why Kreva fought so fucking hard to get her back. She was a scalpel he used to surgically remove anything he deemed a threat to his advances,” Morgana’s voice trembled slightly, her eyes rising from the ground to meet his. “You get it now? Remembering all that… what she was forced to do, the acts she was forced to perform, it would destroy her.”

Logan didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know what to think. None of that had been detailed in the file. How many layers of torment existed? How many secrets did he need to uncover to truly understand what you were put through? Was the cost of getting you back greater than the cost of leaving you untouched? If what Morgana said was true, would you even want to remember? You did before, but neither you nor him truly knew the depth of your torture. Fuck. 

“I– I don’t–” He began before Morgana cut him off.

“Yeah, I know. I don’t know what to do either. We need her back to stop him. I sure as shit can’t beat Rowan, and neither can Erin. I don’t know everyone who lives here but I’ll bet you’d be hard-pressed to find someone who can. But her? She could. Theoretically…”

“Theoretically? Ya mean they’ve never been pitted against each other?” Logan asked, finding that hard to believe. Kreva put you through hell and back, performed every experiment under the goddamn sun on you, but never thought to match you against your brother? Maybe it was his own dark and twisted mind talking, but that would have been one of the first things he’d do.

“Nah. Even with Naji’s mutation, remnants of those experiments still stayed with us, usually affecting our mood. Pitting us against each other wouldn’t exactly build a good rapport since we were supposed to work together.” Morgana shrugged, her eyes now dry, having pushed past her initial flood of grief. “I just, can your Professor restore partial memories? I dunno, I just– she shouldn’t have to go through everything again. Shouldn’t have to remember everything she was forced to do.”

He could. Charles could. But Logan didn’t know if that would be enough. Even Kreva had said in your file you needed a certain number or specificity of memories to fully wield your mutation. He had no idea which ones they were, and whilst Charles was incredibly powerful, there was no way of him knowing either. But before he could respond, there was another cracking thump against the door and they both snapped their heads to where you’d once again tried to break through. 

Logan couldn’t help his little fond huff, despite the situation. You were as persistent as always, and he could feel your furious determination from the other side of the door. 

“Wow…” he shifted his attention back to Morgana who was looking at him with slight awe. “You really loved her, didn’t you?” 

He swallowed, her use of the past tense grating slightly in his chest. “Still do…” he murmured, dragging his gaze back to where you continued to try and break down the door. 

Morgana shifted next to him, her legs extending back in front of her, crossing at the ankle as she sipped her coffee. “So? Tell me everything. She’s my best friend and I know nothing about you, kinda unfair if you ask me.” She shrugged and Logan cast her a withering look. 

“Yeah, well I didn’t ask ya,” he sighed, before dragging his hands through his hair. He didn’t even know where to start when it came to you. “What’ya wanna know?”

Morgana clapped her hands excitedly, turning completely to face him, and he felt himself die a little on the inside, already regretting his agreement to this. 

“Where’dya meet? How long’ve you guys been together? Who said ‘I love you’ first, that kinda thing.” 

Logan raised a brow. Were these seriously the kinds of questions people wanted to know the answer to? He couldn’t help but think Morgana would get along well with both Marie and Kitty and considering this girl was apparently your best friend, it made a lot of sense. He rubbed at the back of his neck, all of a sudden feeling inadequate. 

“We uh, we met here, been together for somethin’ like eight months, last two not included and uh, I said it first.” His words came out a little jumbled, barely able to look Morgana in the eye as her grin widened.

“How long did it take the two of you to get together after you met?” She asked and Logan couldn’t help snorting a laugh. 

“‘Round three days, I think.”

The red-head choked on her coffee and Logan took a long, slightly smug sip of his own. Not quite as good as the ones you make, but it would do the job.

“Three days?! I thought us lesbians moved fast.” Her eyes were larger than saucers as she chuckled heartily, glancing between him and the door, where you’d finally gone quiet. “Though I guess your bond must have been strong if it could push past Naji’s mutation, she’d still dream about you. Did things just click between you? Just like, that instant connection kinda thing?”

The corners of his lips pulled up as he remembered seeing you for the first time. He’d never fucking admit it to anyone, but he was excited to meet you. He’d heard so damn much about you, never being able to put a face to the name was killing him. He’d sort of had an idea of what you looked like from listening to various conversations, but he wasn’t prepared for you to steal the breath from his damn lungs. You smiled so easily, laughed so brightly. You had a glimmer of wicked mischief in your eye that danced with each teasing comment you quipped. You were utterly mesmerising. Ethereal. Logan knew he was in trouble from the very start. 

“Somethin’ like that, yeah. She called me a son-of-a-bitch when we first met, I sorta stole her teaching position cuz she’d been away for two years and I didn’t think she even existed, to be honest with ya,” He too had noticed you’d gone silent on the other side of the door and he had a strong feeling you were listening. “Rest is history, but there’s very little I wouldn’t do to get her back…” he trailed off, swallowing around the lump reforming in his throat. He missed you. So fucking much. You were right there, on the other side of the door, but you looked at him with such unfamiliarity it broke him apart. You were right fucking there, but you’d never felt so far away. So out of his reach. 

A touch to his shoulder brought him back, Morgana’s hand resting atop his skin as she nodded to the door. “Go,” she mouthed, flicking her eyes back and forth between him and the wood, and he understood what she meant. Draining the remaining coffee from his mug, Logan stood to his feet, sending Morgana a wary glance behind him. He wasn’t sure this was a good idea, to be honest. You’d been so hellbent on escaping, what if this was just another one of your methods to free yourself from the room?

As if reading his mind, Morgana nodded encouragingly. “Her heart rate has settled and her blood pressure isn’t as high. Just go.” She whispered, snatching his mug from where he’d left it on the floor to return to the kitchen. She wasn’t needed for this next part and she knew it. From that one conversation, she seemed to know that he would be able to get through to you. He may be the only one who could. 

Logan took a breath, the metal of the bolt cool against his fingers before he pulled it across, twisting the doorknob and letting himself into an almost completely empty room. Before you’d woken up, Jean and Hank had set up a lighting system that didn’t cast extensive shadows. All the furniture had either been taken out or separated, each shadow on the ground completely isolated. Logan hated it. Hated that these were the lengths they had to go to in order to keep you safe. They were treating you no better than when you were a prisoner. 

It ate at his mind.

The lack of your presence however didn’t alarm him. He wasn’t expecting you to be standing waiting for him, especially if you could hear the conversation beyond the door. Taking a few slow steps into the room, Logan scanned the walls and floor, as if he could sense you in any of the various shadows. His own silhouette crossed through darkness cast by one of the tables, but it wasn’t until his back started to itch unbearably did he know where you were. Smart, he’d give you that, but you didn’t remember doing this to him before. You didn’t know he knew what it felt like. Logan rumbled a chuckle, turning to the light behind him and that itching shifted to his front. 

“You’re not as subtle as ya think, darlin’.” He mused, feeling you shift down his body and bleed through to his isolated shadow on the floor. His expression instantly softened as you rose from the ground, watching his every move warily, eyes flickering with every micromovement, nostrils flaring slightly as you prepared to make a break for it. Logan raised his hands like he’d done so many times before. “‘M’not gonna hurt ya. Never gonna hurt ya, firefly.”

“Stop calling me that.” You hissed, taking a step back from him. You’d finally learned his name, only thanks to eavesdropping on his conversation with Morgan. What the fuck had they done to her to make her so mellow? So willing to accept this. Rage flared in your gut at the thought of her being harmed. “What did you do to her? Morgana. What did you do?”

Logan almost winced at the way you hissed and snarled at him like a cornered animal, furious terror reeking off you in waves. “We helped her remember, like we’re gonna help you,” even if the idea still didn’t sit right with him. “You’re safe here. You both are.” He soothed, watching as you narrowed your eyes at him as if searching for deception. He let you look, knowing you’d find nothing but earnest truth. 

“Okay…” you breathed, though you still didn’t fully trust him. You kept your distance as he took a seat, leaning forward to brace his elbows on his thighs. Questions burned in your mind, but you kept your mouth shut, not wanting to divulge just how clueless you were about what was going on. 

Until it suddenly occurred to you. None of this was real. 

You’d seen reality glitch and phase around you. You watched your flat disappear to nothing, your friends fighting amongst themselves. Maybe there was some truth in Joes’ words. Maybe nothing you’d experienced was real, and maybe this was a part of it. You nodded to yourself, laughing bitterly.

Logan’s brows furrowed in confused concern. “What?”

“You’re not real, are you? You don’t exist.” You bit, gesturing savagely to where he was sitting. Logan hummed a tired, melancholy smile, his eyes sinking to the floor and you blinked in confusion. “What?”

You really were the reflection of his own soul, your brows pinching in exactly the same way, head tilting in the opposite direction to his own. In another time, he’d be feeling the same electric hum he always did in the moments before he kissed you, but the absence of love in your eyes kept him at bay.

“S’just funny… I said almost the exact same thing when we first met.” 

You shook your head furiously as if to clear your mind. “We’ve never met…” You whispered, though your voice faltered. Logan raised his gaze back to you, hope flickering in his chest.

“I don’t think you believe that.” He responded with equal hush, rising from the chair he’d just sat down upon, his hand still braced on the back of it. You shook your head again, eyes screwed shut as if to wall off whatever was going through your mind. 

“I– Even if I didn’t, I don’t remember you. I don’t know who you are.” The way your voice cracked was mirrored in his soul, spiderwebs of fragility snaking across his heart. You were almost pleading with him. With yourself. And to see you so fragile, so fucking scared, it made him want to shred Kreva apart.

“Morgana said you dreamt of me.”

“That’s just a coincidence…”

Logan took a step forward. “I don’t think you believe that either.”

All the tension in your body exploded, the fraying threads of your emotions finally snapping, and your maelstrom of fear and confusion stormed through your mental walls. “I don’t fucking know what I believe! I don’t! You can’t honestly stand there and expect me to believe you. Expect me to believe that the last twenty-two years of my life have been a lie. Because that’s fucking insane and you sound insane!

“But then you look at me… You look at me and I feel missed. And it fucking hurts because I don’t know why. I don’t know why you look at me like that and I don’t know who or what to believe anymore. I don’t know what’s real and I’m really fucking scared.” You took a breath, hot tears burning your eyes as you finally confessed just how utterly petrified you were. You hated feeling vulnerable, even more so in front of people you didn’t know. Or you did know. Or you did know but didn’t remember. Or whatever the truth was.

Every other time Logan had stood to pull you into his embrace, you’d melted into him, willingly accepting his comfort and warmth. So to see you recoil from his sudden movement, flinch at the way he took a hasty step toward you, shining eyes wide with fear, he had to bite down hard on his lip to stop his own overwhelming sense of guilt from springing tears to his own eyes. He took a steadying breath, frantically searching his brain for something, anything, to convince you that this was real. He was real. He knew you were scared. Fuck, he felt your fear as his own, but losing you now simply wasn’t an option.

Then it came to him. 

Slowly, tentatively, Logan extended his hand for you to take. “Eight months ago, you taught me something. I want to show you if you’ll let me.”

He saw you hesitate, eyes flickering from his hand to his face, then back to his hand. This would be it. Irrefutable proof that he was real, and the time he’d shared with you was real. Time ticked by, the clock on the wall mocking him with each rhythmic click until you nodded infinitesimally, slipping your soft palm into his. 

“Okay…” you whispered, and he offered you a small smile. 

“I need you to promise you won’t run.” He slowly brought you closer to him, keeping himself open to your suspicious gaze with each uncertain step. You sucked in a breath, still incredibly unsure.

“Fine. But I can’t promise I won’t try…” your mouth quirked in a half-hearted smirk, and though he could tell it was forced, Logan couldn’t help but feel like maybe, just maybe, you were coming back to him, piece by piece, little by little. 

It was like nothing had changed, having you in the kitchen with him, the sun casting a firelike glow through the windows. Like clockwork, he’d chopped, diced, mixed and stirred. The sizzle of browning onions, the scent of searing meat, cooking like this was now simply muscle memory, his hands working with minds of their own. All the while you watched over his shoulder, suspicious recognition creasing your brows as he stripped a few leaves of basil from their stem, dropping them into the bubbling marinara sauce. This was your recipe. You’d know it anywhere. How the fuck did he know it? How did he know the exact timings? The perfect colour for the meat before adding the sauce? And how the fuck did he know about the basil…?

Your heart raced. What if he was telling the truth? How would you even handle that? How would you go about wrapping your head around the fact that the last god knows how many years of your life have been bullshit? He had to be wrong. He had to be lying. For the sake of your own mental wellbeing, this had to be some kind of fucked up prank. Or a set-up. Maybe by that weird fucker who had Naji. 

That was something else you hadn’t allowed yourself to dwell on. The fact that your entire fucking flat simply disappeared. That you hadn’t seen any of your family since Naji tried to invade your mind. 

Naji…

You clenched your jaw. You couldn’t think about that right now. You couldn’t think about any of them right now. You didn’t know where they were, how they were. If they were alright if they were safe. If they were alive…

Here you were feeling so fucking scared, but so far none of these people had done anything to try and hurt you. Were the rest of them in similar positions? Was Atlas okay?

Was Rowan…?

Logan spared a glance away from the bubbling sauce to gauge your headspace, his brows pinching when he saw your eyes slightly glazed, lost in a mental spiral. Removing the wooden spoon from the sauce, he held it up to your mouth, snapping you from your dissociated daze. “Here. Recognise it?”

You looked at him slightly warily, watching his hand shift to cup just beneath the spoon, preventing spillages. Logan noticed your hesitation, your trepidation, and understood.  Even though you’d watched every step, you were still mistrusting. He couldn’t blame you. His gaze softened slightly, before bringing the spoon to his own mouth and tasting the food, proving to you there was nothing in it that could harm you. 

As per usual, it was fucking delicious. He couldn’t help but feel a little proud of himself for nailing it so well. The suspicion in your eyes faded slightly, and you nodded in consent as he offered it back to you, and you let him feed you your own recipe.

It was uncanny. 

“How did you…?”

Logan smiled slightly, placing the spoon back into the sauce. “I’d only known you for a day or so before we made this together. Actually, you made it and I just kinda watched.” The way he huffed fondly made your heart stutter and the realisation struck you like a punch to the gut. 

“This was real, wasn’t it…?” You asked quietly, and Logan stopped altogether to take a steadying breath. You were coming around. Finally, you were coming back. Not completely, he’d need Charles for that, but you were getting there. 

“Yeah. It was. I–” he paused, eyes trained solidly on the pan of spaghetti adjacent to the sauce. “It was my fault. I couldn’t keep you safe. I was fuckin’ helpless that night. I let them take you and couldn’t do anythin’ to stop it…” The memory still haunted him. Your bloodstained lips, your eyes fading before you dissolved, the way Kreva fucking laughed. It haunted every waking moment. 

A jolt of electricity bolted up his arm when your hand came to rest atop it. He thought it almost laughable. You comforting him whilst you didn’t even know who you were. Who he was. Managing to tear his eyes from the stove, his gaze met yours, finding only forgiveness. 

“What happened?” You asked quietly, finding warmth in the way his hand settled atop your own. 

“There was a raid here one night. That piece of shit Kreva came lookin’ for ya. Didn’t take you, but left somethin’ behind. You weren’t safe here, so I took you somewhere you were. Stayed there for six months before we had to come back. They ambushed us on the road. I was immobilised, and he took you from me and fuckin’ laughed as he did it.” He hissed, and your hand tightened on his arm. Not out of fear, he realised, but to ground him. To remind him you were there. It shattered and mended his heart at the same time. 

“Why you?” It was a loaded question. You knew that. But you needed confirmation. What you’d suspected from the moment he’d escorted you kicking and screaming into that room. From the moment you woke up. 

Logan drew in a breath. He didn’t know if telling you would make things better or worse. Whether it would help you or break you. He searched your face, finding nothing but gentle curiosity and settled on showing you instead. 

Turning back to the stove, he switched off the heat for both burners, before stepping from your touch and over to the radio. It had been a long time since you two had done this, but he couldn’t think of a better way to answer your question. 

Your head tilted in confusion as you watched him flip through the stations, pausing as if he’d seen a ghost when a song you knew crackled to life. You recognised this tune, but from when or where, you couldn’t tell. Logan turned back to you, his hand extended, vain hope glimmering in his hazel eyes. 

‘Pass me that lovely little gun My dear, my darling one’

With no small degree of hesitation, you slipped your hand into his, holding your breath as you stepped into his soft embrace. It felt familiar, like a smile from an old friend, or a spoken phrase lost to time. It felt nostalgic.

It felt like home. 

‘The cleaners are coming in, one by one You don’t even wanna let them start’

You let your arms snake around his neck, melting as his hands met your waist. Turning your head, you settled against the centre of his chest, his heartbeat steady against your ear as you swayed with him.

“We’ve done this before, haven’t we?”

‘They’re knocking now upon your door They measure the room, they know the score They’re mopping up the butcher’s floor Of your broken little hearts’

Pieces of Logan’s soul started to slowly knit back together, his arms encircling your waist to hold you tight against him, settling his cheek atop your head. 

“Yeah. Long time ago, but yeah.” He answered, his eyes stinging as you nestled closer into the dip between his collar and neck.

‘Forgive us now for what we’ve done It started out as a bit of fun Here, take these before we run away The keys to the gulag’

Your eyes closed involuntarily, basking in the unfamiliar familiarity of his smell. The dreams you had, weren’t dreams at all. They were memories. You realise that now. You were remembering a life you didn’t know you had. You were remembering him the only way you could. 

‘Here comes Frank and poor old Jim They’re gathering ‘round with all my friends We’re older now the light is dim And you are only just beginning’

Logan let himself believe if only for a moment, you remembered him. He let himself sink into the alternate reality where nothing had happened. Where you were simply with him and you were safe. Where your brother wasn’t lost and you weren’t terrified anymore. Where he could hold you without being afraid it could be the last time. Where Jade wasn’t dead but just merely an ex of your past. Where you had complete control of your mutation and weren’t afraid of yourself. 

He let himself breathe you in, your distinct scent wrapping around his mind and heart. Fuck he’d missed you so fucking much.

‘We have the answers to all your fears It’s short, it's simple, it’s crystal clear It’s roundabout and it’s somewhere near Lost amongst our winnings’

“I know why it was you…” You murmured gently, raising your head from the home you’d made. Logan’s hand slid from your waist to cup the side of your neck, keeping you there. 

‘The cleaners have done their job on you They’re hip to it, man, they’re in the groove They’ve hosed you down, you’re good as new And they’re lining up to inspect you’

Logan didn’t dare ask. Didn’t dare prompt you to continue. Could barely whisper to you in fear of his voice cracking, the growing lump in his throat making breathing suddenly much more difficult. 

‘Poor old Jim’s white as a ghost He’s found the answer that we lost We’re weeping now, weeping because There’s nothing we can do to protect you’

Your eyes flickered between his, the sting of unshed tears lining your lashes as you swallowed thickly. “I loved you. Didn’t I?”

O, children Lift up your voice, lift up your voice Children Rejoice, Rejoice

Logan closed his eyes, fighting against the urge to sink to his knees. The past tense speared his heart, but he nodded nonetheless, taking in a shaky breath. “Yeah, you did.”

Your hand skirted from his neck to the side of his face, thumb gently smoothing over his cheekbone. “And you? Did you love me?”

His eyes fluttered open again to find slight, broken hope glittering in your irises, those windows he’d come to love so fucking much. 

“Sweetheart,” he breathed, bracing his forehead against your own. “I still do.” 

The moment his lips graced your own, you felt the tears in your eyes spill down your cheeks, a lost piece of your heart fixing back into place. You felt whole again, here in his arms, kissing him to the beat of the music.

‘Hey little train, we’re jumping on The train that goes to the kingdom We’re happy, Ma, we’re having fun The train ain’t even left the station Hey little train, wait for me I once was blind but now I see Have you a seat for me Is that such a stretch of the imagination?’

Your breath caught in your throat as you tightened your arms around his neck, his hold around your waist responding in kind. You loved him. No. That didn’t feel right. 

You love him. 

Logan released the leash he had on his emotions, allowing liquid heartache to slide down his cheeks. All the fear, all the doubt, every single thought of losing you washed away as your tongue softly swiped at his lips, and he pulled you home. 

Home.  ‘Hey little train, wait for me Was bound in chains, but now I’m free I’m hanging in there, don’t you see? In this process of elimination Hey little train, we’re jumping on The train that goes to the kingdom We’re happy, Ma, we’re having fun Beyond my wildest expectation’

The music faded and you pulled back a little, eyes fluttering open to find him already gazing at you, longing dancing in his eyes, damp trails lining either side of his face. “What now…?” you queried softly, and Logan sighed slightly. 

“You gotta make a choice. Charles can help you remember everythin’ but… it won’t be easy for ya. I don’t know what you’ve gone through the last two months, but I know everythin’ you went through before. And Morgana filled me in on some shit Kreva didn’t note down…” 

Your heart skipped a beat. “Morgana? Is she alright?” 

Logan nodded, the relief on your face worth all the stars in the sky. “Yeah, she’s fine ‘n safe. Charles already helped her, so she remembers. Erin’s here too but uh… she’s less cooperative.” 

You snickered, and Logan thought he’d have to die before he heard that sound again. “Yeah, sounds like Erin. Is Rowan here? I should probably see him, let him know I’m alright.” 

Your heart dropped with the way Logan’s face fell, dread pooling in your gut. 

“We’re gonna get him back, ‘kay? All of them. We’re gonna get ‘em all back. I promise.” Not even the conviction in his voice, nor the way his hands smoothed your hair, brought you any comfort. 

“Where is he…?” You asked, though utterly terrified to know the answer. 

Logan sucked in a breath, bracing himself. “We’d managed to get you, Morgana, Erin and Rowan out before we had to bail. Kurt can teleport too, but his last trip was Rowan before it became too dangerous. We were already in the air, and we thought we were safe. But Joes came out of nowhere and took him back to Kreva.”

You gasped a sob, attempting to wrench yourself from his grip but he held you fast. “L– let me go! I– I have to get him. I can’t leave him.” You bit between stuttered breaths, panic rising in your throat. “I can’t– I can’t leave him there. He’s my brother. Logan let– let me go!” You fought against his hold and took every weak punch, every struggled pound against his chest.

“I know darlin’, I know.” he hushed as you went limp in his hold, your shoulders shaking with each strangled cry. “Shh, it’s okay. We’re gonna get him back, firefly. I promise,” he whispered into your hair as you fell to pieces in his embrace, sinking to the ground in his arms. He pulled you in tight, bracing you against his chest. “I promise. It’s okay, shh, shh, it’s okay.”

He held you as you cried, having the distinct feeling you weren’t just crying for Rowan. And he was right. Everything had hit you all at once. Your lost life. Your forgotten memories. The lies. So many fucking lies. And the one person who had told you the truth you didn’t fucking remember. 

How long you’d been sitting in his arms, crying into his chest whilst he whispered soothing nothings into your hair, you’d never know. But when your sobs reduced to nothing but hiccups, you raised your head, taking a long, shaky breath. 

Logan’s palms instantly cupped either side of your face, thumbs wiping away the stains of tears from your cheeks before he offered you a small, empathetic smile. You slowly blew out the breath you were holding, brows pinching against another wave of anguish. “You said I had a choice. What was the other option?”

“You stay like this,” he began, his thumbs still smoothing over your cheeks though the tears were long gone now. “We try help you with your mutation and you don’t remember everything you’ve endured. We tell you what you need to know and you start again.” Both options terrified him. There was no easy way forward, and he knew that. He knew you knew that too. 

“So, I’m spared of whatever shit I’ve been through but I won’t remember anything else?” you clarified and he nodded. “I won’t remember you?” Logan nodded again, though his time it was slight. “And you’re okay with that?”

No. He wasn’t. It was agony to think that you wouldn’t remember the last eight months you’d spent with him. “That doesn’t matter here–” He started before you cut him off. 

“It matters to me. I want to remember you, Logan.”

His jaw tensed, eyes lowering to the floor. “I don’t wanna be the reason you’re in pain. I don’t want you to remember for me just to regret it after you remember everythin’ else. Your past wasn’t kind to you, sweetheart.” He couldn’t help the way his chest inflated when your hand softly cupped the side of his bearded jaw, raising his head back to look into your eyes. 

“I’d want to remember anyway. I don’t wanna be some vacant shell who doesn’t know who she is. No matter how fucked up. No matter what I went through, it made me who I was. It made me who you fell in love with. I wanna be her again.” 

“You already are.” He murmured, before capturing your lips in another gentle kiss and you smiled against him. “There isn’t a version of you I won’t love. Whether you remember everythin’ or nothin’,” he whispered against your lips. “I’ll always be right here.”

You rested your brow against his as if you could communicate everything you were feeling through touch alone. “I think we need to go and see Charles.”

You don’t think you’d ever been this nervous. Your heart beat like a freight train in your chest, nails digging into the palms of your hands as you stood outside Charles Xavier’s office alone. Logan had entered before you, telling you to wait whilst he spoke to the headmaster, about what you could only assume. 

Your breath came quick, unsteady. You’d already agreed to get your memories back before Logan even brought it up. You wanted to know who you were, but now you were standing outside Xavier’s office, you weren’t sure you made the right choice. What if restoring your memories made you a completely different person? You didn’t know if they’d been restored before, had they been restored when Logan met you? Is that who he fell in love with? Or were you just as clueless then as you were now? You had too many questions and too few answers to feel calm about what lay ahead of you. 

Your biggest fear was remembering that you agreed with Kreva, and whatever he was trying to do. From what you knew, he was pure fucking evil, running experiments on mutants for whatever sick and twisted gains he got out of it. You didn’t know his end goal, but what if you agreed with him? Surely that was how you wound up there in the first place, no?

Or were you taken? Or sold? You couldn’t even remember your parents. Did you have parents? Were you grown in that fucking facility?

Too many questions.

Your teeth gnawed on your bottom lip as you waited, savouring the slight bite of pain as you peeled a layer of skin into your mouth, sucking the blood from the hurt. This was taking too long. He’d been in there for too long. You didn’t know exactly how long, but it was only supposed to be a quick conversation, not whatever the fuck this was. Having just about enough of waiting, you’d resolved to knock on the door and not wait for an answer before heading in. That was until the door opened slowly, a dark-haired girl poking her head from the room inside. 

“You uh, you can come in. Sorry it took so long…” she mumbled, avoiding eye contact. You tilted your head to the side. When the fuck had she arrived? You’d been standing outside this office since Logan went in and you hadn’t seen anyone enter or exit? She opened the door a little wider, revealing five other people, your eyes widened as you saw the familiar auburn curly hair of your best friend. 

“Morgo…” You breathed, before rushing through the door and past the makeshift bed to wrap your arms around her, holding her tight. Morgana reciprocated, her hands braced against your back as she squeezed you in her embrace. 

“Hey, freakshow. How’re you holding up?” She asked, pulling back slightly to give you a once over, making sure you weren’t hurt.

It warmed Logan’s heart to see you interact with your friends like this. The raw relief etched into your features brought him a kind of relief of his own. Morgana was safe, and that had somewhat set you at ease.

“Yeah, ‘m’okay. Upright and not crying.” You shrugged, and Morgana laughed slightly. Clearly, that must have been some kind of inside joke between the two of you. Logan didn’t fight to hide his smile, earning himself a sweet look from Ororo and a look of utter shock from Scott. He rolled his eyes at the latter.

“Sounds about right,” Morgana’s eyes fell to the floor as she thought about what she wanted to say next. “Look… if you’re gonna go ahead with this–”

“I am, Morgo. Why is everyone trying to convince me not to now? Surely the whole point in getting me back was to restore my memories, now you’re all questioning it?” 

Logan could understand why you were so irate. Everything was so fucking confusing right now. It was hard to know what the right thing to do was. But you’d chosen, and he needed to respect that. As did everyone else in the room.

“I get that. I just… you need to prepare yourself. Mine wasn’t exactly pretty and I didn’t go through half the shit you did,” she continued, empathy flooding her crimson eyes. “I just– you went through so fucking much. For our sake. You were… different to how you are now.”

Logan felt the blood drain from his face. “Different how?” he asked lowly, prepared to drag you away and hole up with you somewhere safe. 

Not that it had helped last time.

“Nothing bad! You never worked for Kreva willingly…” she paused, glancing at each mutant in the room. “You were just… scarier if that makes sense. You scared the shit out of us. Not because you did anything! Fuck I’m explaining this so badly…” she sucked in a breath, holding it for a beat before exhaling. “You were real good at sealing away your emotions. Most of the time we wondered if you had any at all. It was always Rowan who was the emotional one. You were just kinda… stony, about the whole thing. The only time you spoke out was when you volunteered yourself for certain things, and that was to protect us. You weren’t a bad person, you were just… yeah. Different.” She finished, leaving the room in stunned silence. 

It didn’t come as too much of a surprise to Logan. You didn’t want to share your emotions at the best of times, at least at the start of your relationship. And knowing you had to do that almost your whole life, not because of lack of option, but because of self-preservation? It burned him.

“Okay… but I wasn’t like, fucked up or anything. Like, I didn’t kill a bunch of people, right?”

The silence was so loud you could hear it echoing against the walls of the room. You refused to let it scare you. You weren’t about to be intimidated out of this. No matter what you’d done in your past, it would stay where it belonged. 

In the fucking past. 

“This is taking too fucking long. Can we just do it?” You grit, folding your arms in irritation. 

“You’re certain this is what you want?” Your head whipped around to who you assumed was Charles Xavier. Honestly, he wasn’t what you were expecting. You were expecting someone a little more intimidating to be the head of the school and the mutant everyone kept banging on about. Not just some older dude in a wheelchair. 

“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.” You responded curtly, casting a glance at the others around the room. The girl with the brown hair stood close to Logan, her brows pinched in subdued fear. For you or of you, you couldn’t discern. Were you really that scary? 

Charles exhaled a sigh. “Very well then. If you could all leave the room.”

“I’m stayin’.” Logan wasn’t about to leave you alone with this. He’d seen what had happened to Morgana. Watched as she writhed and contorted on the ground, blood streaming from her ears and nose. He wasn’t about to wait in ignorance whilst you were in agonising pain in here. He didn’t think he had it in him. 

“Logan… this procedure is extremely difficult. Any distractions could cause further damage to her subconscious.”

“Then I won’t be distracting.” His tone left no room for argument, and you honestly felt a little better knowing he wasn’t going to leave you. He cast you a slight, encouraging smile and you nodded in gratitude as Charles huffed in defeat.

“Fine. If everyone else could leave the room.” He said pointedly, and Morgana enveloped you in another hug.

“I’ll see ya on the other side, girlie. You’ll be fine. You got your big strong dream man with ya.” She winked and you couldn’t help snorting a laugh, though you could tell by the look in her eye she was terrified for you. That one you could distinguish. 

The woman with white hair placed a hand on your shoulder as Morgana left through the door. Though you couldn’t recall a single time you’d ever met her, she looked at you as if you were an old friend, though said nothing. Her hand squeezed slightly before she too headed out. The man you knew to be Scott strode passed you wordlessly, refusing to even look up at you through his sunglasses.

What the fuck was his problem?

“Kitty?” Charles prompted, and you turned to look to where the girl was staying completely still, her sad eyes still trained on you. You raised a brow, and she winced slightly, before running to pull you into a crushing hug. 

“I don’t care who you are after this. I don’t hate you anymore. It wasn’t your fault, I truly understand that now. I’m so, so sorry for blaming you.” You held your hands up as her hold on you tightened, shooting Logan a panicked glance. 

“Kitty…” he started, and she took a step back from you, angrily wiping at the tears down her cheeks. 

“Yeah, right. Okay. You got this, yeah? Come find me after and we can have tea or something. We got a lot to catch up on…” She gave you one last hug before almost running from the room, closing the door behind her. You watched the closed door with complete confusion. Logan chuckled slightly behind you, placing both hands on either of your shoulders.

“She’s missed ya. We all have.” You leaned back, your head resting against the back of his chest as he pressed a kiss to your hair. 

“You won’t have to for much longer, right?” You looked around Logan to where Charles had taken his place at the head-side of the bed. It looked like some kind of medical bed they’d dragged from a hospital. Did they have one here? You supposed it was useful if things were to go wrong. 

The thought had your gut twisting. Just how wrong could things go…?

“Hey,” Logan caught your attention, a hand guiding your face to look at him. It’s like he had a sixth sense for whenever you started to spiral, noticing the moment your eyes looked even a little distant. “You’re gonna be okay. I’ll be right here, yeah? Not gonna leave ya.” He soothed, slowly wrapping his arms around your shoulders, a broad hand cupping the back of your head as you nuzzled into the crook of his neck, savouring the contact.

“Okay…” you breathed, steeling yourself before pushing back from him and turning to Charles. “Let’s just get this over with…”

Charles nodded finitely, patting the surface of the medical bed. “Just lie back and try to relax. I know it’s difficult considering the circumstances, but if you could keep your mind as clear as you can, it will greatly help the process.” 

You sucked in a breath, hopping up onto the bed and swinging your legs over, lying back against the hard surface. They really hadn’t tried to make it particularly comfortable, but you supposed they didn’t have time before they tried this with Morgana.

Morgana.

You concentrated on how she was even after this procedure. She hadn’t all changed that much. Maybe you’d be the same. Maybe you’d still be you but with very little noticeable change. Thinking of her filled you with courage, even more so when Logan took your hand and knelt by your bedside. 

“You ready?” He asked, trying his fucking best not to let his overwhelming concern leak through his voice. You nodded a little shakily as Charles’ hands came to rest on either side of your head.

“See you on the other side.” You smiled weakly, squeezing his hand slightly, before you felt a slight pressure inside your head, growing and pushing, rearranging, and your vision faded to black.

You were falling. Wind whipped your hair and face, arms flailing to catch yourself on something, anything, trying in vain to save yourself from the inevitable landing. Your stomach lurched up into your throat, guts writhing and flipping as you failed to control your descent. Mouth agape in a silent, wrenching scream, you plummeted down, down, down. Flashes of light burned against your closed eyes, colours singing your retinas as you clawed at nothing, deafening voices ringing in your ears, crashes of explosions, and bloodcurdling screams cut short. Your heart raced in your chest, your breathing ragged before everything stopped.

You plunged into an ocean of pitch black, lungs burning as you fought to breathe, only resulting in an intake of water, mocking bubbles rising from your mouth, legs kicking fruitlessly against the anchor wrapped around your feet. Cracking your eyes open, you looked down.

Not an anchor.

A hand.

A shadowy, skeletal hand gripped your ankle, seven more rising from the obsidian depths to grasp at your legs, your waist, scratching against your skin, tearing at your clothes as you struggled to free yourself, writhing and twitching to reach the surface. 

You screamed again, muffled, jagged, noiseless in the muted depths of your own mind. Your vision tunnelled, oxygen scarce as your brain started to shut down. This was it. This was where you died. Trapped in the sea of black, drowned by your own fears.

Until everything stopped. Your feet touched solid ground and the ocean started to drain away around you. After being so weightless, your body felt like lead as you lay on the surface, coughing up inky liquid, your chest heaving with every strangled breath. Taking just a moment to remind yourself you weren’t dead, you roughly swiped your soaking hair from your face, lifting your head to at least try and take a look at your surroundings. But your eyes were met with nothing. Absolutely nothing. You couldn’t tell where the floor ended and the sky began. There was no divide. You were completely lost and for the first time, you found yourself wishing there was some kind of light to guide you. 

As if on command, a flicker of white appeared ahead of you, illuminating the pit of nothingness and granting you the vision you sought. Shakily struggling to your feet, you looked down and froze slightly. What you were standing on wasn’t solid. Or at least, it shouldn’t be. Ripples shifted beneath your feet like water, the light reflecting in irregular patterns with one small step forward. Taking one knee, you pressed your hand against the surface, pulling back as it shifted with your contact, your own reflection looking back at you quizzically. 

Releasing a determined huff, you wiped your wet hand on your soaking t-shirt, looking back to the pulsing light ahead of you, drawing you in. And you let it, your legs moving as if on their own, footsteps echoing in the emptiness. Some kind of chamber, then, if your footsteps bounced back to you. 

Your eyes squinted the closer you got, your hand shielding your face from the light, before it dulled for you, as if understanding. You blinked away the spots behind your eyes, leaning closer to the orb, and tilting your head around it. Images flashed within the surface, faces you knew well, and faces you didn’t recognise. This was you, you realised. This was everything you were missing. Everything you’d been through, everything you didn’t remember was right here in front of you. Who you were. Who you are. 

Reaching up, you lightly tapped the surface of the glow with your finger, watching as it started to pulse faster, light growing more intense before your vision exploded with white and you were thrust forward, the environment around you shifting and changing like ink in a glass of water. 

Falling to your knees, you barely caught yourself before you struck the floor, your hands biting against a cold, steel surface. Shaking your head of a slight fuzziness, you inhaled, almost choking on the thick scent of sweat and fuel. Your heartbeat spiked.

You knew this. 

Fear laced your blood as you raised your head, taking in the all too familiar interior of an aircraft, and your breath froze when your eyes landed upon a lone figure sitting against the wall, her hair bound behind her bowed head, fingers laced together, dressed in all black. 

You knew her. Fuck did you know her. You knew her incredibly well.

Because it was you. 

But it wasn’t you at the same time. You were sitting dangerously still, various knives and blades strapped across your back, your legs, and the sides of your combat boots. A black mask settled over the entirety of your face, two thin slits cut into the metal for you to see out of. You remembered that fucking thing. It stank of blood and fear.

“You’ve got your orders?” 

Your attention shifted to a burly, broad-shouldered man who stood in the doorway between the hold and the cockpit, his arms folded across his chest, a gun strapped across his back, a similar mask concealing his features. But you knew who it was. Of course you did. It was the same motherfucker who’d held Naji by the throat not two days ago. 

Your past stayed silent, simply wringing her hands together as if to resist wrapping them around his throat.

“Not feeling talkative, Subject Eight?” his voice lilted with mocking as he leaned against the doorway in a way that told you this must have been one of the first interactions between them. 

Silently, the shadows in the craft started to shift, tendrils winding up his legs, around his waist and neck, and he only seemed to notice when they started to constrict.

“H-hey, what’re y–”

“Don’t fucking call me that,” your past hissed, slowly rising to her feet, her fingers flexing as darkness extended from her fingertips, sharpening into five long, razor-sharp claws. “I can show you things not even Kreva knows I can do.” With deadly quiet, she stalked across the floor, raising her hand to the man’s face, a claw pointed dangerously close to his eye. Those tendrils around his body tightened further, and you watched as he struggled to draw breath. 

Kreva.

Even hearing his name sent ice through your veins.

“It was– just a joke, Phantom.” He managed through strangled breaths, struggling to free himself as he started to rise from the floor, Phantom taking a step back from him as if to admire her work. 

“Drop zone in– what’s going on here?” another faceless soldier stepped through the door, sounding almost irritated at what he was seeing. Phantom’s head turned to him almost robotically, the shadows dissolving in an instant. 

“Just joking around.” She responded flatly, her voice devoid of all emotion. Was this seriously how you used to be?

“K, what did Doc say about pissing her off?” he asked his companion who had crumpled to the floor, a hand braced around his neck, his breaths strained and harsh. “Fucking idiot. Drop zone in five.” was all the newcomer said, before turning on his heel and marching out, K now scrambling to his feet to follow, muttering something that sounded like ‘crazy mutant bitch’ under his breath as he went. 

You watched as your past sighed, sitting back down heavily and bracing her head in her hands. You knew what she was doing. She was remembering why she was here. Who she was here for. This was one of the missions you’d volunteer for to save them. To save the rest of NLMO from the mental torture you were about to endure. Because that’s all these missions were. Mental, emotional torture. You didn’t want to hurt people. You hated how he made you hurt people. So many innocent lives would suffer because of the things you would do. 

It made you wonder which particular mission this was. 

Red lights flared to life, a deafening siren blaring as the doors to the hold opened and Phantom stood, checking her equipment one last time before another figure appeared through the door, and you felt yourself freeze in place.

Unnaturally skinny, tall, and had a pair of thick, round glasses perched on the end of his crooked nose. Terror stilled your breath as Doctor Kreva walked through the doors, placing two hands on either of Phantom’s shoulders.

She stiffened.

“My darling Eight. I wanted to wish you luck before your mission,” he drawled, relishing in the theatrics. “This should be easy enough for you, but in case you forget, Subject Five is primed and ready if you decide you want to stage another little rebellion.” 

Phantom released a shaky breath, her eyes closing behind her mask. It was your punishment. It was always your punishment. If you acted out, if you even thought about fighting back, they’d torture your brother to tighten your leash and force you to cooperate.

She stayed silent, and Kreva’s hand clawed into her shoulders and you felt the pressure against your own before he released her and took a step back and said nothing else as Phantom opened her eyes and took off at a run towards the open bay door, leaping into the dark sky beyond. 

You followed, copying her exact movements and dissolving into the dark before either of you struck the ground. You had a sneaking suspicion you couldn’t be hurt or killed within a memory, but you also didn’t particularly want to risk it. 

Rising up from the shadows, you took a moment to look around, spotting your past lightly jogging towards a dirt track. Bile rose in your throat. You knew what this mission was. Even in the dead of night, you’d recognise this location anywhere. Breath flew from your lungs as you tried to call out to yourself, beg her to stop before she did what she could never undo. But no sound left your mouth. You were mute, powerless to do nothing but watch and remember as Phantom stood in the centre of the track, statue-esque, silent. 

You followed at a sprint. If you couldn’t stop her verbally, then you’d take her out by force. You could stop this. You could change your past. This didn’t have to happen. Lowering your head, you lunged forward toward her, arms outstretched to tackle her to the floor.

Only, you passed straight through her, landing harshly on the other side of the dirt track. Though you felt no pain. Only the sharp jolt of coming to such a sudden stop. You looked back in terror as headlights shone from ahead, the low hum of engines cut through the silence of the night as four trucks approached your location, each with a silver caduceus painted into the back doors. 

These were medical trucks. Transporting supplies to the refugee hospital a little further away. Your head whipped around. How had you not seen the small, twinkling lights in the middle distance? This was a camp for those who had evacuated the small local town after the airstrike. 

Hundreds of children were taking shelter there. So many innocent lives you were about to snuff out. 

The trucks trundled to a stop, engines stuttering, and you watched as Phantom raised her hands in faux fear, slowly backing out of the cones of light. Four gunmen rushed to the front of the convoy, fingers braced on the triggers of their rifles, though hesitant to shoot. These weren’t soldiers. They hadn’t been trained to kill people. You realised they were more likely fathers, sons, brothers of those who had been injured or killed in the attack. The town was the centre of the uprising, and in one fell swoop, it had been completely obliterated.

These people were just trying to survive. Trying to recover.

Voices rang out in a language you didn’t understand, and you know your past self didn’t understand either. You watched as she bowed her head in submission, backing up a little further until she was completely out of the light. You remembered this. 

You knew what happened next. 

With a flick of her hand, a tendril of shadow whipped out from the darkness, wrapping around the first gunman’s neck and dragging him screaming into the tree line. Gunshots were fired, but none of them met their mark. These people barely knew how to use their weapons, let alone accurately. A jagged spike erupted from the night, spearing another through his spine with a wet squelch and raising him off the ground for the other two to watch, before slamming him back into the dirt, knives of obsidian rising from his own shadow to pierce through his back. 

Make them fear you. That was Kreva’s orders. Make them so terrified the thought of uprising was synonymous with pain and death. With loss and grief. 

With utter, paralysing terror. 

The two cowered back, a stray bullet firing into her shoulder. She took a single step back, the shadows in the gunman’s chest dissolving, leaving him choking in a pool of his own blood. Holy fuck he was still alive. 

You watched with sick awe as darkness wound up her legs to cover the wound, sifting through her skin and mending it flawlessly, leaving nothing but a small spot of blood. With a tilt of her head and a flick of her fingers, two humanoid figures rose from the shadows on either side of the track, stepping fearlessly into the light to flank the two remaining men. Your stomach convulsed as one of the figures disappeared completely into one man through his own silhouette, flinching as his neck snapped back, a black hand exploding up through his mouth, blood raining onto his face as he stood in a horrific exhibition of your forgotten mutation. He slumped to the floor, the shadow figure remaining standing as he twitched before falling completely still. 

The final gunman fell to his knees, muttering quickly and breathlessly and you realised he was praying. Several thorned whisps rose up from his shadow, snaking around his body, across his forehead, before Phantom’s fist started to tighten, and those thorns dug into his skin. Trails of crimson leaked down his face as they continued to constrict, his voice raising as he prayed, though for what or to whom, you didn’t know. Her fist closed completely, and with a sickening crunch of snapping bones, the shadows sectioned his body into pieces, his head split in two. 

Blood soaked into the earth as Phantom stepped back into the light, her eyes trained on the remaining people inside the cars, each too terrified to make any kind of move. Tears trailed down your face as five more figures formed from nothing, almost floating to each truck to silence the screams of the terrified until one remained. He was dragged through the dust by two of her puppets and thrown at her feet face down. Phantom crouched, raising his head with the tip of her finger beneath his chin, obsidian solidifying once again to arm her other hand with five sharp claws, shadows extending beyond her shoulder blades into two broad, black wings. 

She was every part the demon you used to be.

Dragging a razor down the side of his face, the man whimpered, flinching as she drew a line of scarlet over his brow and down his cheek. A mark. She was going to let him live, so there would always be somebody to remember what happened to those who fought back against the powers of the world. 

“Run,” Phantom whispered, and the man scrambled to his feet, slicing his chin against your claw, before taking off at a sprint in the direction he came, his footsteps fading into the deathly silence. She watched him go, flicking her wrist to the figures before they set to work dragging the various trucks into the shadow, tyres dissolving, medical equipment disappearing as if it were never there, lost to the darkness.

Phantom took a breath before her shoulders shook and she sunk to the ground, her conjurations dissolving into nothing as she was left in total darkness, sobs wracking her chest. You felt her anguish as your own, hot tears still leaking from your eyes as you stood. You wanted to tell her this wasn’t her fault. She didn’t have a choice. He made her do this. And if she wasn’t the one here right now, it would be someone else she cared for so fucking much. 

But you couldn’t say anything. Couldn’t do anything but watch as she tried to stifle her sobs, knowing her job wasn’t even close to being done yet. With hiccuping breaths, your past stood to her feet, sparing a glance at the carnage she’d left in her wake before her head turned to the camp in the distance. Her hands balled into fists, and you remembered the way you had to gaslight yourself into continuing. ‘This is the last mission.’ ‘He’ll set you all free after this.’ ‘Rowan will be safe.’ ‘Jade will be safe.’

Jade.

You felt your heart crack as you thought of her. How could you have forgotten about Jade? Why had Kreva erased everything of another one of his own subjects? Clenching your jaw, you shook your head slightly. 

Not now. 

Phantom had already started striding toward the camp, and you found yourself following her, despite the fear pumping through your blood. You didn’t want to remember this. You’d made a mistake. You didn’t want this. It hurt. It hurt so fucking much. The things you’d done. The people you’d killed. Was this all you were good for? A weapon for Kreva to use at his disposal? A tool to inflict the same amount of agony as those he would use on you in that fucking room? 

You didn’t want this.

You didn’t want this.

Your surroundings started to stutter and glitch as you started to fight against remembering. Fight against Charles hold in your mind. You couldn’t do this. You were happyer forgetting. Happier not knowing who you were and what you’d done.

The darkness swirled like paint mixed on a palette, colours blending and twisting around you, your hands clawing at either side of your temples, clutching your head tightly as if to withdraw him from your mind. 

You didn’t want this.

You didn’t want this.

You didn’t want this. 

You didn’t want this.

Logan’s heart started to race as Charles grimaced, his hand clutching yours ached from the weight of your tight grip, your nails digging into his skin. His other hand came to brush your hair from your forehead between Charles’ hands on your temples, attempting to settle your switching head, swiping his thumb against your brow.

“It’s okay…” he hushed, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “‘S’okay firefly, you’re okay.” His soothing became more desperate as you started to writhe on the table, your back arching as if you were possessed. “The hell’s going on?” he asked, panic rising in his throat.

“She’s… she’s fighting it.” Charles grit, eyes screwed shut as he attempted to navigate your battling mind. His fingers against your head tensed, applying more pressure to either side of your temples. “I’m losing her.”

“Then get her back!” Logan cried, wild fear beating his heart like a warning drum. He couldn’t lose you. He just got you back for Christ’s sake. He couldn’t lose you again. And he was so damn useless when it came to this stuff. He didn’t know what the fuck to do. If you needed somebody taken out, sure, he’s the guy. But mind shit? Brain shit? He was floundering in the same darkness he imagined you were. 

“What did I say about distractions?” Charles barked curtly in response, his neck flexing as he fought to keep you in his grasp. All Logan could do was continue to smooth your brow, whispering sweet nothings as you continued to twitch and bow. A whip of shadow lanced into his peripheral from the corner of the room, and he was barely able to lunge forward in time to shield Xavier from the spear before it lashed through his head.

Pain shook Logan’s system from his shoulder, blood leaking from where your mutation had pierced him and stuck there, sharp, thorny barbs preventing him from breaking free. “Y’alright?” He asked, voice a little strained as his entire body sang with pulsing agony. You must be remembering your mutation. 

Charles nodded, though his eyes still closed, still focused on taming your hurricane of a mind. 

Logan grit his teeth against the wild thrashing of the vine through his shoulder, his arm tensing as it pulls against his strength in an attempt to drag him back. But moving wasn’t an option right now. He knew the intention was to take out Charles, to stop whatever it was he was doing, and he had to remind himself time and time again that this was for your benefit. This was to help you, no matter how much it shattered his heart to see you in so much pain. Not only was he fighting against your own mutation, but he was fighting his instincts not to tear Xavier away from your head and shred him apart for doing this to you. 

Another vine burst through his other shoulder, droplets of his blood staining your skin as you bucked to free yourself. He cried your name, terror lacing his tone as a third vine plunged into his back and through his chest, whipping slightly before pulling back and tugging.

He felt his weight start to shift, his feet grinding against the wooden floor as he struggled to win over the contest of strength. How was something seemingly made from nothing so fucking strong? Barbed thorns sank deeper into his skin, a grunt of pain flying from his lips, sweat beading his brow. 

Jean burst through the doors, either having heard the commotion or after being called by Charles. 

“Logan?!” She started, horrified by the display, but he waved her off quickly. 

“‘M fine. Help Chuck.” He instructed harshly, though Jean hesitated a moment, her eyes wide. He knew why. Of course he knew why. After what happened three years ago, everybody was so damn afraid of you and what you could do. Fear had her glancing frantically between your possessed form and Charles’ struggle. “Jean, please. I– I can’t lose her again…” he admitted shakily, gritting his teeth against another sharp wave of pain from yet another savage tug of the tendrils in his body. 

It seemed to be the push she needed, scrambling forward and around the foot of the bed to stand by Charles’ side, covering his hands with her own and closing her eyes. 

Agony coursed through his system as his knees buckled, looking down to bare his teeth at another frantic thorn that had burst through the space between his joint and kneecap. He’d take it. Fuck, he’d take anything if he knew he was helping you in some way, even as the shadow wrapped around his leg, tearing at the flesh beneath his jeans. He’d endure it if it meant he’d get you back.

Everything was too loud. Like the centre of a tornado, your memories ripped and tore at your brain, slashing through your consciousness, ripping at your brain. Shards of agony, both physical and mental, had you sinking to the floor, hands clamped over your ears, head buried between your knees. Your hair whipped around your hidden brow, a cacophony of screams and torment bursting your eardrums. There was no happiness here. No comfort. Even memories of your brother were laced with poison. Every image of Jade followed up by the night of her death. Her death was brought by your own fucking hands. You’d seen how you’d torn her apart, desperation to help clouding your senses, seeing her as yet another adversary in your way. In a roaring cloud of shadow, you’d shredded her to nothing, and even as you flayed the skin from her body, she smiled. She told you she loved you.

And you’d left her skeleton in your wake. 

You killed. You maimed. You hurt. You’d caused pain. You’d caused anguish. Heartbreak. Agony. It was as Kreva had said. You were a machine. An instrument devoid of any semblance of humanity. You had to be. The things you’d done… you couldn’t have had an ounce of empathy in your body. 

You’d killed the woman you loved.

And you’d tried to kill the man you love. Memories of that day's training had circled your mind like a carousel of torment. Fighting tooth and nail to claw a path out and escape. Landing blow after blow on the man you’d fallen in love with, every strike flung to kill. 

‘He forgave you.’

You tensed, waiting for the following punch to the gut that was taking far too long to arrive.

‘We forgave you.’

A sob wracked from your chest, your head pressing further into your knees. You just wanted everything to stop. The noise, the damn noise, you wanted everything to end. 

‘You’re not alone anymore.’

Your breath shuddered from your mouth, tears and saliva staining your t-shirt. You knew that voice. Her soft cadence like a balm.

‘I forgive you.’

Slowly, and with no small degree of trepidation, you raised your head. Your lungs froze, eyes stuck on the woman before you. Her pearly smile. Her smooth, bronze skin almost glowed in the lack of light. Black hair cropped short by her ears, bright blond highlights making her look like some kind of alternative angel. 

A gold locket shone brightly at the hollow of her throat, a beacon in the void. You shook slightly as she took a step toward you, taking a knee in front of your curled form. 

“Jade…?” You breathed her name like a question, unsure if this was real or yet another nightmarish scenario in which you’d have to watch her die yet again. But the moment her fingertips grazed your cheek, you found your answer.

“Hey, Shadow.”

Tears flowed freely down your face as you looked into her cerulean eyes, so full of earnest forgiveness you felt yourself shatter. The nickname you hadn’t heard in so long breaking down every part of yourself you’d held together by a thread. You surged forward into her arms, finally finding something you could connect with in the warmth of her embrace. 

“How… how’re you here?” You asked shakily, tears saturating her black shirt a few shades darker before you pulled back, shaking your head in disbelief. “How–”

“I’m a part of you, numbnuts. Of course I’m here.” She said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re focussing on the shit Kreva put us through. Focussing on the pain you’ve brought. So now I have to drag your sorry ass through a bunch of happy memories to remind you how much of a rockstar you actually are.” She punched your arm lightly and you laughed a little, the sound split by the lump in your throat. 

“First time I see you in three years and you punch me?” You asked, wiping the tears from your face with the heel of your palm before taking her outstretched hand, your knees groaning at the release of pressure as you stood.

“Yeah well, someone had to slap some sense into you, and since your new boyfriend isn’t here, I guess I’m the next best thing.” She winked, though guilt spiked through your gut. 

“Jade… I–”

“Shadow, I’m dead. If you spent the rest of your life single and sex-less because of me, I’d be so mad at you. Though I wasn’t exactly thrilled when you tried to forget about me, but I get it.” She shrugged, holding your hand in her own. You’d forgotten just how blunt she could be, though it was a breath of fresh air from everyone tiptoeing around you in regard to her death. 

“Can’t argue with that, I guess…” you huffed a small smile, finding a calm sense of contentment simply being here in her presence again. 

“Speaking of your new man, I think he’d be a great place to start.” She grinned at you, waving her hand as the glitching images of your past started to shift and change, settling on a scene you knew extremely well. It wasn’t so long ago you were there, reading in the little window seat of the forest cabin, watching whatever Logan was up to outside. 

The colours of the cabin separated, morphing into the kitchen and lounge, and you watched the ghost of your past self materialise on the sofa, the tartan blanket covering your legs, your nose buried in a copy of Ghosted, the paranormal love story you’d been so hooked on in your first month moving there. Though from the way you were devouring the pages, you realised this must have been your re-read.

Jade raised a brow to you as if to say ‘seriously?’ and you snorted a laugh.

“What? It had a good plot. Sad ending though…”

“‘M’not judging.” Her voice told you anything but.

The occasional crackle of the hearth and swish of flipping pages broke the calm silence before the door to the cabin pushed open and Logan stepped through, toeing off his shoes at the door before closing it swiftly, preventing any further heat from escaping. Your brows furrowed as you tried to remember this specific memory. How had you instantly understood all those times where you’d killed so many and yet this was something you had to strain yourself to recall? Your eyes fell on a small, wrapped package he held in his hands.

What was this?

“Stop thinking so damn hard and just watch.” Jade elbowed you and you shot her a look of faux irritation but acquiesced nonetheless. 

You watched your own ghost look to the door, her eyes lighting up instantly when she saw him, placing her book on the coffee table and rising to lean over the back of the sofa. “Hey Lo’! All done?” She asked, and Logan’s expression softened when he saw her.

Did he really look at you like that?

“Yeah. Should be good for ‘another month or so, weather depending. Come over here a sec, wanna tell you somethin’.” You could see the subdued excitement in his eyes as your past stood from the sofa, draping the blanket over her shoulders, a brow raised in suspicion. 

Logan set the package on the table before his hands cupped the sides of your neck and he stooped to press a lingering kiss to your lips. Your past smiled against him, arms snaking around his neck as he pulled back from you, cheeks pursed as he tried to suppress a grin. 

“What’s up with you?” She asked, eyeing him with amused scepticism. Logan turned her in his arms, resting his chin on her shoulder as she huffed a small laugh. 

“Open it.” He ghosted his lips against her ear, and she leaned back into him, a hand holding his arm around her waist, the other picking up the little, strangely shaped package, brown paper crinkled in odd ways. 

She cast him a glance, Logan nodding back to your hands with encouragement, before you started to slowly tear the paper from whatever was hidden inside. Your heart surged as your memory slowly returned, a fond smile pulling at your lips as you watched your past suck in a soft gasp.

“Logan… this is gorgeous.” 

Paper now discarded, she held a small, delicate pinewood carving of a miniature cabin in her hands, accurate to the exterior of the one you were in right now, log pile and all. Her eyes filled with awe as she turned it gently in her fingers, tracing the artistry with the tip of her thumb. “Is this what you’ve been doing?” She asked, turning to face him, though still looking down at the carving as if she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

“Kinda. Been prepping for the weather too, but most of the time, yeah ‘ve been doin’ this. Happy birthday, firefly.” 

Her head snapped up to look at him, confusion etching her features. “Wait, what? I don’t even know my birthday, how did you–”

He silenced her with his lips moving languidly against hers, his hands falling to her hips, thumb tracing smooth circles against the sliver of skin where her hoodie had risen up a little. 

“I have my ways.” He murmured against her, taking the carving from her hand and placing it down on the table before lifting her against him, her legs instinctively locking around his waist. 

“He found it in the file…” You breathed, the memory fading from view to shelter both you and Jade in muted darkness once again. “From the first time he read it. The first page had all my information, including my date of birth. He didn’t tell me because he didn’t want to bring it up, but I realised after we read it together. That was how he knew.” You explained quietly as Jade’s hand settled on your shoulder.

“You know… he’s out there now. Waiting for you. He loves you so much, Shadow. I know because he looks at you the same way I did.” 

That all too familiar lump started to form in your throat, your hand crossing your front to hold your arm. “He does now but… how can I face him, Jade? Knowing what I’ve done, knowing how much pain I’ve caused. I– I killed you… I ripped you apart and I didn’t even remember doing it.”

Jade’s hands cupped the sides of your face, forcing you to look at her even when you begged to look away. “It was an accident. You saw what they were doing and your subconscious snapped. You felt their pain as your own and you couldn’t fight the urge to save them. I’m not about to hold that against you. Nobody should. You never wanted anyone to go through what we did, and the fact you volunteered for every goddamn mission solidifies that.

“You have saved so many. You have helped so many. And you are cared for by so many. And nobody cares for you more than Logan. You’ll face him because you love him. And you’ll forgive yourself because he forgives you.” Her thumb swiped against a tear sliding down your cheek. “Just like I forgive you.”

Her words splintered through your resolve of self-loathing, shattering every conception you had of yourself and leaving room for something new. Something unfamiliar. 

Hope.

“Now c’mon. This isn’t the only thing I wanted to show you. In case you still need convincing, you have an arsenal of memories to prove me right. And there’s nothing I love more than proving myself right.” She grinned widely, and you nodded, words failing you as she waved her hand again, the colours of your mind swirling and settling to the image of the danger room, and she took your hand again as she showed you every forgotten part of yourself. 

Logan steadied his breathing as your body settled back on the table, the thorns in his body retracting and slinking back into the shadows with your newfound calm. Whatever Jean had managed to do was working, his skin itching slightly as it knitted back together. Though he stayed in place out of fear of making things worse. He didn’t know if approaching you would spark up your torment again, so he stayed still, his knee against the floor, watching cautiously. 

He didn’t know how long it had been since you fell unconscious, but his arms ached to hold you again, to have you pressed against his chest, your face buried in the crook of his neck. He fought every urge to move back to your side, knowing that staying was most likely for the best, and gave you the best opportunity of coming back to him. But that didn’t lessen the longing to feel you. 

“So? Thoughts and prayers?” Jade asked the final memory she wanted to show you fading into the background of your mind. You sighed heavily, unable to deny it anymore. You’d done good in your life. Perhaps not quite enough to outweigh the bad, but you were getting there. She’d shown you the memory of when you first met Marie, forced you to watch as you tried so damn hard to convince her. Sure, you may have failed that time, but that didn’t take away from all the other times you’d succeeded. Besides, she’d found Logan not long after, so that had all worked out for the best anyway.

“Yeah, alright, maybe you were right… just maybe,” you admitted reluctantly, much to the girl’s triumphant laugh. 

“Fucking knew it! Ha-HA! Told you I’d convince you. God, I’m so good at this.” She grinned wildly, and you huffed a fond smile. Though you knew this couldn’t last forever, you were so fucking grateful for the time you’d had with her now. The weight of unspoken words between you had lifted from your chest, though another had settled there.

You had to say goodbye. 

“Jade…” you began, only to trail off instantly. Her grin shrank slightly into something of understanding companionship. Taking both your hands in her own, she squeezed slightly.

“Yeah, I know. Can’t last forever, right? Besides, I don’t think we would have lasted very long anyway. Not if tall, dark and broody had waltzed in a couple years later,” you chuckled tearily, knowing she was absolutely right. 

“I was never blind to how you looked at Ororo, by the way.” You shot back lightly, and Jade shrugged in faux innocence.

“What? She’s gorgeous. Sue me.” She winked again, and a comfortable silence settled between the two of you. “Oh, right. I wanted to give you this. Since you chucked your away and everything and I don’t really need it…” her hands fiddled with the clasp of her necklace behind her, and your heart skipped a beat as the locket fell into her hands, before she placed it in yours and closed your fist around it. 

“I can’t take this.” You muttered, searching her face for anything that would tell you she didn’t want you to have it. But your search came up short. 

“Of course you can. What am I gonna do with it? Not sure it’ll come with you when you wake up, but let’s just give it a go, yeah?” Your breath choked as you saw her own eyes well up, and you realised this must be just as hard for her as it was for you. You wished you could have both. You wished you could take her with you.

But she was just a memory. Sure, she was real, but only in here. 

“Okay…” you nodded slightly, and she tilted your head up with her finger beneath your chin.

“Don’t get stuck in the past. You have a family out there waiting for you. You’re not alone anymore,” tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, your soul cracked as she started to fade. “Oh, and when you take on Kreva, kick his balls for me, yeah? Bastard deserves what’s coming for him.” She grinned wickedly, and you nodded again, your voice caught in your throat. “Give ‘em hell, Shadow.” 

Jade punched her fist in the air as her image faded completely, the rest of your surrounding mind fading into white.

With a sharp gasp, your eyes flew open, seeing nothing but light before you blinked a couple of times, your vision returning as you registered both Charles and Jean looking a little worse for wear.

“Welcome back.” Xavier smiled tiredly, and you sucked in a breath. You were back. You were home. You remembered everything, from the start of your torture eighty years ago to the moment you lay on the bed. Steadily, you pushed your arm beneath you to rise into a sit, bracing a hand on your forehead as it to stem the slight headache from remembering over a century of memories. 

“You feeling okay?” Jean asked a little hesitantly, leaning against the back of Charles’ wheelchair. You didn’t remember her being in the room when you started, but you guessed what had happened in your mind had been reflected in the conscious world. 

“Yeah… I’m okay.” You responded, cricking your neck to the side before a voice you didn’t know you needed to hear called your name from your left. 

Tears lined your lashes as you took in his appearance. Spots of blood stained his white singlet, a large rip had torn through the knee of his jeans, a bloom of scarlet had drenched the fibres. You didn’t need to ask what happened, you already knew.

But the way he looked at you, terrified hope dancing in his hazel eyes, you couldn’t stop the way your legs swung from the bed and you all but leapt into his arms, holding him so impossibly tight as if he’d disappear into thin air. 

But he wouldn’t. Because this was real. He was real. And just as Jade as promised, he was waiting for you.

“Logan…” you breathed in his scent, comfort blossoming where it wrapped around your heart. And Logan swore he’d never let go of you, not as his hand braced the back of your head, his other pressed against your spine as he held you. And held you.

“Thought I lost you for a minute there,” he tried to play off just how utterly petrified he was when Charles said he was losing you, but the way you nuzzled closer into his neck told him you saw right through him, and he didn’t hesitate to press his cheek to the top of your head. Wordlessly, Charles nodded to Jean, and the two of them silently decided to leave you in peace, closing the door behind them as they left. 

Logan shifted you so you were cradled completely in his lap, your legs straddling his bended knees as he basked in your presence, in your touch. He had you. You were back.

You were home.

“What happened in there?” He asked, his tone hushed as you pulled back slightly, only far enough to look him in the eye, his hand on the back of your head skirting to rest against the side of your face. 

“I was focussing on the shit I’d done…” you explained quietly, leaning into his palm. “I was so wrapped up in the pain I’d caused I couldn’t think of anything else.” 

Logan rested his brow against your own, empathy pulling at the strings of his heart. He knew that feeling so damn well, and to know you had experienced that exact same thing tugged at his very soul, harder than anything your mutation had done to him earlier.

“How d'ya get out of it?”

Only then did you brain register the warmth of metal in your closed fist, the slight dig of a dainty chain in your soft palm. Removing one of your arms from around his neck, you opened your hand in the space between you, a smile of fond disbelief creasing your brow as you looked down at the gold locket nestled in your palm. You didn’t question how it happened. Didn’t question how she’d somehow made something materialise from nothing but your memory. That wasn’t even part of her mutation. 

It was something that wasn’t meant to be questioned, even as Logan’s head tilted in slight confusion. 

“Ran into an old ex.” you said by means of explanation as recognition dawned on his face. He knew he’d seen that locket before, and gratitude filled his chest. He’d never get to meet Jade, but he hoped she knew, somehow, just how thankful he was for her. “She approves of you, by the way.” You grinned, and Logan wondered how he’d gone even this long without kissing you.

“I’ll have to find a way to thank her, then,” he whispered, before pulling you in and sealing his lips to yours, pouring every ounce of sheer, raw love he had for you into the way his tongue danced with yours, savouring how your arm returned around his neck and held him there, your chest pressed against his own, his heart almost reaching out to yours. 

He had you back. 

You were home.