#fevvor.

not that alison blaire has ever held much belief in authorities of any sort, or institutions that backed that up; even after the cosmos had claimed jean grey in a move that would go on to become one of the biggest sacrifices for the greater good in mutant history, it hardly has done much to rattle dazzler’s notion of her.

the greater good can be damned, if it all must come down to that, or wanting her loved ones around, in any shape or manner they present. alison knows how to die as countlessly as she’s lost.

she won’t deny the sacrificial aspect of it, or rather, the incredible love that was there for jean to act on from pure instinct in that fateful life-or-death moment. she won’t deny the clear toil that it takes on a person to become merged with the phoenix, whether it's wholly voluntary or not in the first place.

everything has changed, and yet, nothing about the way she loves jean, lights up every time their worlds collide and paths intertwine, the way she says hello in the manner of someone who has always kept the door open no matter the tides and the whirldwinds, and the way alison blaire gets to hold jean grey’s face and tunes out everything else; it does not matter how they get here so long they’re here at all.

well, perhaps how she shows her love to jean grey has evolved in more ways than that, precisely speaking.

“not at all, i think that was really adorable of you, sweetheart,” alison murmurs into jean’s neck though it’s only the two of them in here, her lips occasionally grinning when they’re not preoccupied with other pressing matters, like marking her lover’s neck with a trail of soft kisses and softer bites, just some mild enrichment for the blonde’s mouth while her hands are busy down there — or well, they begin to get busy, more aptly.

“i was just gettin’ started, you know,” her radiant fingertips still linger even when alison sits up a little over jean, thumb tracing circles over the bundle of nerves as two of her digits slowly retract; dazzler could try and coerce more orgasms out of her, but she really doesn’t want to overwhelm her already during what’s supposed to be a gentle reunion of theirs. “but i’m not complainin’ in the slightest, jean,” cue the slow emphasis on the redhead’s name, which especially occurs when she brings her own hand to her lips and makes a show of lapping up jean's warmth off those culpable digits of her, absolutely reveling in the eye-contact she maintains with the other woman the whole time, as though alison is seeking her approval.

it’s not the kind of worship provided by mortals to gods, a one-way, vertical hierarchy with little room for connection.

it’s the kind of devotional fondness bordering on obsession mutually shared by two friends who have been circling around the obvious for years, until jean and alison finally gained the courage to turn their lifelong longing into a reality.

it’s profoundly real, the way the tables turn and alison's the one on her back, golden hair spilling over the pillows like a halo, while she looks up at jean, equal parts trusting and thrilled.

“hi there.”

how can dazzler not feel the same way? allow the intensity of her lover, the most alive woman alison blaire has had the fortune to know, fuel the passion in her chest further, creating an endless loop for just the two of them to indulge in? how can lightengale care about any other name the x-man may have ever been known by, when ‘jean’ tastes the sweetest on her lips, now somewhat glistening under the mutants’ shared radiance?

“gettin’ real hot in here, it reminds me of back when i was stoppin’ by at arizona last tour,” dazzler says, chuckling with ease, as her hands already find her lover with the same admiration her eyes find jean’s hues. “phoenix, if you will. and hey, you’re not so bad yourself, gorgeous, has—” dazzler’s already cracking up as she stumbles her way towards the punchline. “has anyb— okay, wow, yeah, has anybody ever told you’re quite the marvel, girl?”