#[ e2l ]

[d1stalker]

Collateral Damage [Logan Howlett]

SUMMARY: The X-men are heroes—they save the world, eradicate threats and protect both mutants and humans alike. You don't see it that way, though.

WARNINGS: one-sided e2l, fem!reader is stubborn and sassy af but it's valid, arguing, canon-level violence, scott's a dick, SMUT - 18+ only! WC: 21k - MASTERLIST

A/N: i've always wanted to write a fic with this plot, it's been on my mind for AGES. happy reading!

----

The first time you see them, it’s on your birthday.

Not being one for big, elaborate parties, you planned a quiet celebration instead—maybe a stroll through the lively city streets, followed by dinner with friends later. You had just visited your favourite store, buying a gift for yourself, and now you’re on your way back home.

The streets buzz with life as people shop, eat, and laugh, making it the perfect backdrop for a peaceful walk and some casual people-watching.

Then, out of nowhere, the ground trembles.

At first, you think it’s an earthquake—a quick jolt beneath your feet that sends a ripple of confusion through your body. But the tremor grows stronger, the ground shaking violently as everyone around you begins to panic, frantically looking around for the source, you included. And that’s when you see it. 

A hulking, green monster stomping through the city streets like something out of a nightmare. It has to be at least twenty feet tall, its skin a sickly shade of green, its eyes glowing with rage. Cars bounce with each heavy footstep, leaving deep footprints in the cement in its wake.

People scream, scrambling to get out of its path, but you stand frozen, heart pounding as you try to make sense of what’s happening. In the blink of an eye, the city had been plunged into chaos. You lose track of your surroundings, too busy trying to keep your eyes on the monster headed your way, while also dodging the hoard of pedestrians running for their lives.

Until they show up.

Initially, you don’t even notice them. After all, there’s so much going on around you at this point you barely know what to do with yourself. Yet, through the dust and destruction, you see flashes of movement—figures darting toward the monster with a sense of purpose. 

You don’t know who they are, but their bright blue and yellow suits make it seem like you should. At first glance, it’s hard not to feel a sense of awe. They move with such confidence, with their powers on full display for the world to see. You’ve never seen anything like it—a team of mutants using their powers in the open, fighting for what you assume is the greater good.

Maybe they can stop this!

The one first to act is a woman with white hair. She raises her arms to the sky, her eyes glowing a bright white as dark clouds swirl above, blocking out the sun. A flash of lightning slams into the monster's chest, forcing it to reel back with a thunderous roar of agony, and the crowd around you gasps, watching in wonder.

But when the lightning strikes a second time, it veers off course, crashing into the side of a nearby building. The structure groans under the impact, flames erupting from the point of contact as windows shatter, sending glass raining down onto the street below.

The collision sends you to the ground, and when you look up again, you see the power inside go out, all the lights flickering off.

Whatever awe you’d been feeling dissolves into concern, a sinking feeling settling in your chest.

Following her, a man with a glowing red visor strides forward. He’s clearly aiming to hit the monster, but the bright red beam shooting from his eyes slices through several cars in the street first, flipping them over and leaving them in smoldering wrecks. One of the blasts tears through a storefront, reducing it to rubble in a matter of seconds. More people scream and scatter, trying to escape the destruction.

From the corner of your eye, you see another mutant—a man with claws—lunge toward the monster, jumping onto cars to get closer to its head. But by using the parked cars as springboards, the weight of him causes the roof to sink in, and his claws leave deep gashes in the metal. 

How heavy is this guy? Is he made of metal or something?

He’s fast, brutal, slashing at the green beast with some serious ferocity. Still, despite the attack, the monster’s strength prevails, and it easily tosses him aside, crashing into buildings, crowds—anything in the way. To your surprise, he always gets back up. And that should be good, right? They are fighting for the safety of the city. 

But as debris rains down and cars are overturned, you can’t help but feel like this isn’t helping. You’re constantly dodging rubble, trying to find shelter, only for it to be destroyed seconds later. It’s like being in a war zone, and it doesn’t seem to be getting better.

And above it all, there’s a woman with red hair. She’s floating, and you watch from where you’re hiding as she lifts entire trees from their roots, hurling them at the monster in an attempt to slow it down. Except, much like her teammates, her attempt goes awry, and she misses, the trees now flying toward you. 

You barely have the reflexes to dive out of the way.

Your heart races, breath coming in shallow bursts as you press yourself against a wall, trying to steady yourself. The sound of sirens blare in the distance, but it doesn’t seem like help is coming anytime soon. There’s too much going on. People are running, pushing each other aside, crying, screaming, trying to find safety.

Glancing around, you’re met with destruction—flames licking at the sidewalk, cars totaled, and building wreckage littering the streets. These mutants, while clearly powerful, are causing just as much destruction as the monster itself.

What should have been a simple takedown—a 6v1—has turned into a full-scale disaster.

And yet, they don’t stop. They don’t pause to help the people caught in the crossfire, don’t even seem to notice the damage they’re causing. They’re so focused on the monster, so focused on the fight, that they’ve lost sight of everything else.

Is this what heroism looks like? You’d been excited at first—amazed, even—thinking they were here to save the day. But now, standing in the middle of a city that’s being torn apart, you realize how wrong you were.

They don’t care. Not about the city. Not about the people. 

Finally, with one last blast from the man with the visor, the monster collapses to the ground, defeated. It lets out a final roar before falling still, its massive body sprawled across the street.

The team stands over its body, their chests heaving with exertion, but they have smiles on their faces, feeling victorious. One by one, they board an aircraft, dragging the monster in with them, barely sparing a glance at the horrors they’ve caused. The white-haired woman doesn’t even bother to clear the storm clouds she summoned.

Within moments, they’re gone. You, and everyone else in the area, are left to deal with the fallout. Left to clean up their mess. 

Happy birthday to me, I guess.

—

After that, you spend the next few days trying to process what had happened. You’re still in a state of shock, confusion, and disbelief, but then the media catches wind of what went down, and suddenly, it’s everywhere.

News channels replay the footage over and over, the headlines screaming about “our holy saviours” saving the day. They’re plastered across every screen, being hailed as protectors.

The X-Men.

A group of mutant superheroes, apparently. The reporters list them off one by one, like they’re celebrities you should have known about. 

Storm. Cyclops. Wolverine. Jean Grey.

Mutants with powers like gods.

—

The second time you see them, you’re on vacation.

Sitting in a quaint café in the south of France, you’re enjoying a well-deserved break. The city you’re in is perfect—cobblestone streets winding through the village, vine-covered walls framing pastel-colored houses, and the scent of fresh bread drifting from nearby bakeries. It all feels like something out of a dream, the kind of peaceful retreat you’ve been desperate for after everything back home.

You order a frappé, and as you wait, you idly flip through a local newspaper, trying to see how much of your rusty high school French you can remember. It’s peaceful, quiet, exactly what you needed—until it’s not.

Movement out of the corner of your eye grabs your attention, and you glance over the edge of the newspaper, watching a group of tourists as they walk into the café. It’s not really anything odd, so you don’t think much of it—they’re dressed casually, like any group of vacationers.

Though, something about them tugs at the back of your mind, a nagging feeling that you’ve seen them before.

You lower the newspaper entirely now, staring as you try to place where you recognize them from. The tall one with the red sunglasses, the woman with the striking white hair, the man in the leather jacket... You squint, the pieces slowly falling into place.

And then it hits you.

Oh, no way.

You’re halfway around the world, in a different country, on a different continent, and somehow, they’re here. At the same café. 

Shifting in your seat, you’re trying to figure out what the hell is going on, when the barista arrives with your drink. He smiles warmly at you, placing the cup down on the table with a soft “voila madame,” but before you can even thank him, there’s a blur of motion.

One of them—Wolverine, you think—lunges at the barista, grabbing him by the collar and shoving him back. The tray tips, and your frappé spills everywhere—all over the table, your newspaper, and, to your absolute horror, all over you. 

“Logan, no!” you hear Storm shout, but it’s too late.

The cold drink soaks into your clothes, and you let out a startled yelp, jumping up as your chair topples over. Your clothes are ruined, your vacation ruined, and in the midst of all of this?

Wolverine—or Logan, you guess, is wrestling with the poor barista.

“What the hell?!” you shout, trying to shake off the liquid dripping down your legs. “Is this a joke?!”

No one hears you, or even acknowledges you.

The other mutants jump into action, and before you know it, the peaceful café is transformed into yet another battleground. Cyclops blasts a beam at the barista—who you now realize must be the target of whatever mission they’re on—but it misses, smashing into the wall behind you. 

You’re furious, covered in a brown drink that makes it seem like you just had explosive diarrhea, and caught in yet another X-Men fiasco. All you wanted was a vacation. You don’t even know what’s happening anymore—who the barista is, what mission they’re on—but frankly, you don’t care.

This is absurd!

Without a second thought, you grab your bag and make a break for it, dodging overturned tables and debris as you make your way to the exit. You don’t bother looking back, your only thought being to get changed, and get as far away as possible.

After rounding the corner, putting some distance between yourself and the café, you pause for a moment to catch your breath. And then you hear it.

Boom.

The sound reverberates through the narrow streets, shaking the cobblestones beneath your feet. You whirl around, sticking your head out from the corner of the building, just in time to see a plume of smoke rising into the air from where the café once stood. 

Your heart sinks.

They blew it up.

—

The third time you see them, it’s a really nice day outside.

It’s a week after you’ve returned home, and the weather had finally given you a break from the suffocating heat. You’re walking home from a lunch with an old friend, when your phone buzzes in your pocket. Probably said friend sending you something stupid to laugh at later. 

You chuckle, already anticipating the joke, when—

BAM!

Something slams into you from the side with the force of a freight train. You’re airborne for a second, weightless, before crashing hard onto the pavement, your breath knocked right out from your lungs. 

Dazed, you groan and blink up at the sky, trying to get your bearings. What the hell just hit me? Your vision swims as you sit up, shoulder throbbing from the impact. Twisting your neck to see whatever the hell that was, you immediately regret it, wincing at the sharp pain. 

Great, just great.

When you finally manage to sit up, you spot the culprit.

Cyclops.

Are you fucking serious?!

His back is to you, dusting off his ugly uniform like nothing happened. You look around, and notice that the street in front you is in ruins—buildings have gaping holes where windows used to be, chunks of the road are crumbling, people covered in blood scurrying away as fast as they can. 

Just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, you catch a glimpse of the giant mechanical robots looming above, scanning for their targets. One of them must’ve thrown Cyclops into you. 

You can see the others—Jean, Storm, Beast (some new guy)—flying around, saving the world. That’s codeword for: wreaking havoc, destroying your city.

Anger boils up inside you, hot and unrelenting as you struggle to your feet, rubbing your sore shoulder. But as you open your mouth, a gruff voice cuts through the air.

"Good job, dickhead. You just hurt a civilian."

Your gaze snaps toward the sound. Wolverine’s standing a few feet away, claws out, glaring at the guy who sent you flying. 

“I was thrown, Logan,” he says passively. “Maybe if you kept the Sentinels off me—”

“Maybe if you didn’t stand there like a damn target, you wouldn’t get thrown!” The clawed mutant growls, taking a step closer. His whole posture is tense, like he’s barely holding himself back from tackling the other man into the ground (you would pay to have him do it). “Seriously, Summers, it’s like you want to get tossed around.”

Cyclops doesn’t even flinch. “We’ve got bigger problems than this right now,” he dismisses, not even glancing back at you to check if you’re okay. 

Well, there goes the last of your patience.

"Are you kidding me?!" you shout, throwing your hands up in disbelief. They completely ignore you, too absorbed in their petty bickering to acknowledge that you’re still standing there, seething.

Before you can rip into them, something catches your eye—a Sentinel (is that what they’re called?), hovering above them, charging up a blast. Its arm is raised, energy crackling at the barrel of its cannon, aimed directly at the two distracted morons.

“Oh, for the love of—” you mutter under your breath before diving forward.

The blast hits you square in the chest, but instead of pain, all you feel is the heat of the energy surging through your body, like lightning spreading through every inch of your veins. It crackles and burns, the force building up inside you until it feels like you’re about to explode.

Then, with a deep breath, you thrust your hands forward, channeling and releasing the blast right back at the robot, blowing it apart. Metal and circuits rain down, the Sentinel crashing into the ground with a deafening thud.

Silence falls.

You’re panting, feeling the leftover energy fizzle out of your fingertips. Slowly, you turn back around, and unsurprisingly, Cyclops–or Scott, as you’ve heard in the news—and Logan are staring at you like you just walked on water. Well, the clawed one is. You can’t really see the other brown-haired man’s expression due to his visor.  

“Woah, bub—”

“Oh, hell no!” You spin around fully, pointing an accusatory finger at both of them. “Neither of you get to speak! I just saved your asses because you were too busy bickering like children to notice the massive death robot about to blow you to pieces!”

Logan’s mouth quirks up, but he wisely stays silent.

“And this is exactly why I hate you people!” You continue, exasperated. “You swoop in, make a mess, destroy everything in your path, and then just leave like nothing happened! You think this is helping anyone? You think the people running for their lives right now give a damn about your little team squabbles?”

Scott doesn’t even blink. “We’re just trying to help,” he says evenly, like he’s rehearsed the line a thousand times.

“Help?” you scoff incredulously. “You only tell yourself you’re doing that to make yourself feel better. How many casualties do you think are coming out of this, hm? What’s the body count gonna be after today? Or do you not even bother counting anymore?”

His audacity makes you want to laugh. He opens his mouth to respond, but you’re not done.

"All this mess, the destroyed buildings, the people who won’t make it home tonight because you couldn’t keep your damn fight contained! You’re so focused on stopping the big bad guys that you don’t even realize how much carnage you leave behind. Who’s cleaning up after you? Who’s paying for this?! " You gesture around wildly. "News flash: the people whose lives you’re currently ruining!”

Beside him, Logan’s smirk fades, and he begins to step forward with his hands raised. “Listen, darlin’, we’re doin’ the best we can. We didn’t ask for this fight—”

"Oh, don’t give me that ‘best we can’ bullshit," you snap.

“We’re here to protect people,” Scott adds in, trying to maintain authority. “It’s not always clean, but we are making a difference—"

“Shut the fuck up! I’m not finished!” You interrupt, shaking your head. “Every day. Every damn day there’s something new.”

With the face Logan’s making, you’d think he’s going to start going in on you, but he doesn’t. Instead, he just watches, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he’s trying to figure you out. It’s unnerving, but you don’t care. You’ve had enough.

"And you," you say, turning your ire toward him, "You couldn’t have, I don’t know, used your super speed or whatever the hell you do to catch him before he crashed into me?"

His eyebrow quirks up. “Super speed?” he chuckles lowly. “Ain’t that fast. Was a little busy with the giant killer robots.”

You tilt your head back in frustration and turn on your heel. "I’m done. I don’t care what kind of mission you’re on, or how noble you think it is. If you're planning to lay waste to the city yet again, be my guest.”

Giving no time for a response, you stalk off, weaving through the wreckage of the city streets, your heart still pounding in your chest. 

—

A couple weeks have passed since the last incident, and the X-Men seem to have disappeared from the headlines. You haven’t seen them or heard their whereabouts splashed across the news like you’ve gotten used to—though not by choice, of course. Whenever they do anything, the world seems to bow at their feet.

You don’t get it.

The flashy suits, the team name, the way they strut around as if they’re the Gods of the mutant race. It’s too much, too loud. They act like they’re above it all, as if their powers and heroics put them on a pedestal. Better than those who prefer to lay low, who have no choice but to blend in.

You’ve spent years hiding your powers, keeping them buried deep where no one can see. When you were younger, you didn’t have a choice. Your mutation made you a target—bullied, beaten up, pushed around for being different.

You learned quickly that being a mutant didn’t make you special. It made you vulnerable.

So, you hid. You stayed quiet, under the radar. It was safer that way.

And then here are the X-Men, parading around like their abilities make them untouchable, like they’ve forgotten what it’s like for the rest of you. It’s not that you don’t believe in helping others—you just don’t believe in the way they do it.

In your opinion, it’s all performance. From what you’ve experienced and seen up close, they always arrive with a fanfare, ready to jump into action, and do whatever they can to exterminate the threat. Yet, when the dust settles, it’s mutants like you who are left to pick up the pieces.

The ones who don’t wear brightly coloured costumes or shout about unity. You’re the ones who have to keep moving, keep surviving, without any recognition.

But it's not like you need recognition. You never have. What you need is peace.

—

You’re on the phone with your mom, trying to reassure her for the millionth time this week.

"Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry, Mom, I’m fine," you say, pacing the length of your small living room. You glance at the muted TV screen, the news still cycling through the usual mayhem. "You’ve seen the news recently, right? We’ve got the X-Men to take care of all this stuff—"

Knock. Knock.

You freeze mid-sentence, your words trailing off as the sound of someone at your door interrupts the call. Your heart skips a beat, and your voice drops. "Mom, I’ll call you back."

Barely waiting for her to reply, you end the call, staring at the door like it might explode.

A knock at this hour? Unannounced? You waver, your mind racing with possibilities.

Delivery? A neighbour? You’re not expecting anyone.

Cautiously, you make your way toward the door, hand hovering over the handle as you listen. No more knocks, just the faint hum of the outside world. You take a breath, steeling yourself as you turn the handle and crack the door open.

The tufts of hair, the thick stubble, the edge in his eyes—it’s him. Wolverine. And just as your brain registers his face, you also notice the glint of metal where his claws are already halfway out.

Instincts kick in, and before he can get a word in, you push against the door, trying to slam it shut.

Still, he’s faster.

His fist punches through the wood, and with a metallic snikt, his claws extend fully, slicing through the door as if it were made of paper. He pushes it open again, forcing it against your effort, and the sheer strength sends you stumbling back.

“What the fuck?” you gasp, eyes wide as you steady yourself. “How did you even find me?”

Stepping inside, he says, “picked up your scent and followed it,” matter-of-factly, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

For a moment, you just stare at him, dumbfounded. “That’s… that’s actually really creepy,” you manage, still trying to process the fact that he just said that without a hint of shame.

“Can’t control it, bub,” he shrugs. 

You take a step back, putting more distance between you and the man with the claws standing in your apartment. “Okay, well, you found me. Now what?”

His eyes lock onto yours. “I need you to come with me.”

“Excuse me?” You cross your arms, eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. 

“You’re not safe here.”

“Oh, I’m not safe?” you snap, sarcasm dripping from your voice. “Maybe if you and your merry band of idiots didn’t keep causing world-ending disasters, I wouldn’t need to be safe!”

He doesn’t even flinch. “Sentinels are tracking you down.”

You falter. “What are you talking about?”

“You used your powers,” he states. “Killed a Sentinel. That’s all it takes for them to target you.”

Blinking, you feel anger rush to the surface, your skin tingling with rage. “I didn’t kill anyone. They’re fucking robots.”

“They don’t see it that way,” he counters. “You took one down, and now they know what you are.”

Part of you knows there’s merit in what he’s saying, but you don’t want to hear it. The last thing you want is to be dragged into some mutant-robot war. “This is ridiculous. I didn’t ask for any of this!” you hiss, glaring at him. “And now you’re telling me I’m on some kill list because I defended myself? Because I defended you?!”

His eyes flicker with something you can’t quite read, but he stays silent, watching you carefully. Your words start flying faster now, venom spilling into each one.

“I’m the one who took that thing down because you and that one-eyed bitch boy were too busy being immature! You weren’t even paying attention, and that thing almost blasted you both.” Your fingers ball into fists. "I saved both of you, and now I’m the one who has to run?"

Logan's jaw clenches, his nostrils flaring at the accusation. “We weren’t—”

“Don’t even try to deny it,” you cut him off. “If it weren’t for me, the two of you would be dead right now. And now I’m supposed to just go with you to your mansion and hide out? Like that’s going to fix th—”

You don’t get to end your rant, because he has stepped forward, and grabbed your shoulders, gripping you firmly. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to snap your attention back to him.

“This is serious,” he spits, eyes boring into yours. “You stay here, you die.”

His words slam into you. He’s not trying to scare you—he’s telling the truth.

“You don’t get to be stubborn about this,” he continues firmly. “You think you’re pissed off now? Wait until they come crashin' through your door in the middle of the night, and you don’t have a chance to fight back.”

Wrenching yourself out of his grasp, you take a few steps back. “I just—” you begin to say, but the words feel tangled in your throat. The denial is still there, but it’s weakening, cracking. “I don’t want to run.”

“You’re not running,” he sighs, his voice softening ever so slightly. “You’re buying time. Time to fight back, time to survive. But if you stay here? There’s none of that.”

You want to argue more, want to scream at him to get away, to not drag you into his fight, but instead, you let out a long, shaky breath, your shoulders slumping. “Fine,” you breath out. 

He nods, finally releasing his grip on you and stepping back. “Good. Pack up your shit. We leave in half an hour.”

Then, he walks over to your couch and plops down like he owns the place, crossing his arms as if settling in for a casual wait.

You roll your eyes, muttering under your breath. “Unbelievable.”

Ignoring him, you turn and head into your bedroom, where you start throwing clothes into a duffel bag—jeans, a couple of shirts, whatever you can grab quickly. Your movements are hurried, fuelled by a mix of frustration and the creeping anxiety gnawing at the edges of your mind. Grabbing your toiletries, you stuff them into a smaller bag, trying to focus on the task at hand instead of the fact that some random mutant tracked you down, and now you have to leave your life until you’re safe. 

You peer back into the hallway, hearing the faint creak of the couch as Logan shifts around. I’m gonna kill this guy, you think to yourself. 

Once everything is packed and you’ve zipped your bag, you head back into the main room, only to see said random mutant still sprawled on your couch, looking far too comfortable, with a cigar in his hand.

“Seriously?” you say, slinging your duffel over your shoulder. “Make yourself at home, why don’t you.”

He grunts in response but doesn’t move. Typical.

You glance at the clock—still a few minutes left of the half-hour he allotted you, but there’s no point in dragging it out. “I’m ready,” you say flatly, heading toward the door.

Logan stands, stretches his arms over his head, and cracks his neck like he’s waking up from a nap. “Let’s go then.”

—

The ride is tense and quiet, which suits you just fine. You’d rather not talk to him anyway. Every now and then, you let out a loud sigh, unable to hold back the annoyance you’re feeling. Each time, you feel Logan’s eyes dart toward you from the driver’s seat, but he doesn’t say anything. Well, that is, until—

“Can you shut the fuck up?” he growls, keeping his eyes on the road.

You clench your jaw, shifting in your seat. “I didn’t even say anything, jackass.”

He huffs, clearly not in the mood for an argument, but the strain between you is almost impossible to ignore. You cross your arms, staring out the window, observing the landscape shift as the drive continues. 

Eventually, you can see the outline of the mansion, and you watch as it gets bigger and bigger the closer you get. Upon arrival, He pulls the car up to the front and cuts the engine. You both sit there for a moment, mute. 

“Well, here we are,” he mumbles after the pause stretches on for an uncomfortable amount of time, glancing over at you.

“Great,” you say sarcastically, unbuckling your seatbelt and pushing open the car door. 

Logan walks ahead without saying a word, leading the way up the grand stone steps toward the front door. You trail behind, your mood darkening with every step, glaring at the perfectly polished entrance. 

The doors open before you even reach them, and you’re greeted by an older man in a wheelchair—Charles Xavier, if you remember correctly. The famous telepath. The genius behind the mutant team (some news anchor's words, not yours). His expression is kind, but you’re in such a bad mood, you don’t even bother trying to seem polite.

“Welcome,” He says with a warm smile, his eyes assessing you with an intensity that makes your skin crawl. “Logan’s told me a lot about you.”

You press your lips together in a line. “Yeah? Well, don’t get too excited.”

Logan grunts beside you. “She’s got a bit of an attitude,” he mutters to Charles, then turns to you, gesturing you to follow him. “Come on.”

Inwardly groaning, you have no choice but to follow him. Everything about this place screams “too good to be true,” and you hate it already. You’re used to keeping your head down, blending in, not being surrounded by people who wear their powers on their sleeves like some badge of honour.

As you walk through the halls, a few faces appear—other mutants, some of them kids, watching curiously as you pass by. You can feel their eyes on you, can hear the whispers already starting about the new arrival. 

Charles wheels alongside you, still smiling, but there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes. “You remind me of Logan when he first joined us,” he says thoughtfully.

That stops you in your tracks.

You whip your head toward the man, giving him a piercing look. “Do not say that. We are nothing alike.”

On your other side, Logan smirks. “Not sure if I should be offended or not.”

“I’m serious.” If looks could kill, he’d be six feet under.

Chucking softly, Charles seems completely unaffected by your outburst. “You’re both a bit rough around the edges, but you’ll find your place here.”

“Yeah, sure,” you say. “Because that’s exactly what I want to do.”

Deeper into the mansion, you catch sight of the X-Men you’ve seen before: Cyclops, Storm, Jean Grey. They all turn to look at you, sizing you up. You don’t flinch—you just stare back, your expression hard.

Pulling your duffel bag higher on your shoulder, you rip your eyes away from theirs, and keep walking, following Logan down the long, quiet hallway. Finally, he stops in front of a door.

“This is your room,” he grunts, nodding toward it. “Try not to break anything.”

Choosing silence, you push the door open. Stepping inside, you expect the bare minimum—a bed, maybe a closet—but instead, you’re met with a surprisingly large space. There’s a massive bed in the center of the room, a desk by the window, and, to your surprise, a set of glass doors leading out to a balcony.

You drop your bag by the door, glancing around, trying to shake off the unease. This is way too nice for a prisoner. You walk toward the balcony doors, curious despite yourself, and when you pull them open, the cool breeze hits you immediately.

Once you’re outside, you realize something that immediately makes your stomach drop.

The balcony is shared. And right next to your side, leaning against the railing with a cigar between his fingers, is Logan.

You halt mid-motion, eyes fixed on him in stunned silence. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He glances over, a smirk playing on his lips as he takes a drag of his cigar. “Surprise.”

You groan, turning your back on him and walking toward the opposite edge of the balcony, trying to calm the annoyance inside you. Of all the people you could’ve been stuck beside, it had to be him. It’s not enough that he dragged you here, but now there’s a chance you’re going to have to see him every time you step outside.

“So what now?” you mutter, staring out over the mansion grounds, the manicured gardens below looking like something out of a postcard. “I’m just supposed to stay here, be a part of your little mutant club?”

Taking another slow pull on his cigar, “You’re supposed to stay alive. Everythin’ else? That’s up to you.”

“But why do you suddenly care?” you ask. “I’ve seen the way you operate. You and your team sweep in, fight your battles, and then leave everyone else in the dirt. You don’t care about the collateral damage—hell, you cause half of it.” 

Logan pauses, his cigar halfway to his lips. He doesn’t answer right away, and the brief hesitation only makes your irritation spike. You press on, inching closer, voice laced with accusation.

“Why now?” you press. “Why drag me into this when you’ve never cared about anyone else in the crossfire?”

Logan finally turns to face you, exhaling a cloud of smoke before speaking, his expression hardened. “This ain’t about me ‘caring,’” he says flatly. “This is about survival. You killed a Sentinel, whether you like it or not. That puts a target on your back.”

“Yeah, you’ve made that very clear,” you bite out. “But you still haven’t answered my question. Why me? Why am I suddenly important to you?”

Logan’s eyes darken, drilling into yours. “You’re not important to me,” he says flatly. “But they won’t stop until they get you. The destruction that’ll come from that—if your stubborn ass fought back, which I know it would, by the way—would be much greater than anything we would cause.”

“Doubt that,” you snarl bitterly. You don’t linger for the sound of his response, spinning on your heel and walking back into your room, slamming the balcony door behind you.

The bed is large and you can’t deny how inviting it looks after the day you’ve had. You flop onto it face-first, letting out a long, drawn out sigh.

You’re barely able to reflect on the chaotic day you’ve had before your eyelids flutter shut, and you sink into a deep slumber, the exhaustion from everything catching up to you.

—

You’re jolted awake by a loud, aggressive knock on your bedroom door. The sound is so forceful it feels like the entire frame is rattling. You release a sound, half groan, half sigh, steeped in frustration. Your face is still buried in your pillow, and you curse whoever decided to ruin what little sleep you managed to get.

“Get up,” Logan’s gruff voice calls from the other side of the door. “We’re leaving for breakfast in ten.”

Ah yes. Of-fucking-course it's him. Who else would it be?

Dragging yourself out of bed, you throw on some clothes and make a half-hearted attempt to fix your hair before opening the door, ready to curse him, but he's already striding down the hallway, hardly bothering to check if you're following. You roll your eyes, your steps slow and begrudging as you move to follow

As you catch up, you can’t help but throw him a sideways glare. “Why are you acting like my personal bodyguard?”

“Gotta make sure you don’t do anything reckless.”

You scoff, crossing your arms as you fall into step beside him. “You don’t even know what I can do.”

Logan’s lips twitch into a lazy smirk, and you immediately want to wipe it off his face. “Exactly,” he says, his tone almost amused. “Which is why today, we’re gonna test you.”

You stop in your tracks, staring at his back. “Test me? What the hell does that mean?”

He stops too, turning to face you. “Means you’re gonna show me what you’re capable of.”

Teeth clenched, you feel the slow rise of aggravation mingling with apprehension. “I’m not some science experiment.”

“No,” he agrees, “but you’re not a regular person, either. You need to know your limits—and how to handle what’s coming.”

Groaning, you drag your hands down your face incredulously. “I don’t even know what to say back to that. All I know is that I’m hungry.”

—

The kitchen of Xavier’s mansion is bustling with activity as the two of you walk in. The rest of the team is gathered around a large table at the centre of the room, and you spot Jean, Cyclops, Storm, and a few others sitting together, chatting, but you feel no desire to join them. 

Rather, you gravitate toward a smaller table by the window, hoping to get some peace while you choke down breakfast. The chair scrapes lightly as you pull it out and sit down, fully expecting to be left alone.

But to your surprise, Logan follows and plops down in the seat across from you.

You raise an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

He shrugs and digs into his food. "Eating. You got a problem with that?"

You cast a quick look toward the large table where the rest of the team sits. It feels strange, having him eat with you, especially when the rest of his team is so obviously waiting for him to join them.

"No," you murmur, shaking your head as you return to your plate. "Just didn’t think you’d stray from the flock."

“They’re fine without me.”

You push your food around with your fork, trying to push past the heavy air of discomfort in the room. Everyone keeps glancing in your direction, and you sense their curiosity, the questions hovering in silence, but no one has the courage to ask. And honestly, you’re grateful for the space.

Just as you’re finishing up, a low voice catches your attention. 

"I just don’t understand why they brought her here," Jean’s voice carries across the room, quieter than before, but still clear enough for you to hear. “She doesn’t seem like she has what it takes. It’s like they’re bringing in someone who’s—” She pauses, clearly thinking through her words. "Unstable. Weak.”

Tensing, your fork clatters onto your plate. The world around you dulls, and all you can hear is that word echoing in your head. Weak. You’ve been called a lot of things in your life, but never that.

Slowly, you push your chair back and stand up as you turn to face the table where she and the others are seated. “Say it louder, please,” you say calmly.

The chatter dies instantly, and suddenly, every set of eyes in the room finds you. Jean's face turns ashen, her eyes blown wide in shock. She wasn’t expecting you to overhear. Her mouth opens and closes, as if she’s trying to find a way to backtrack, but you know what you heard.

Before Jean can stammer out an excuse, Scott stands up, positioning himself between you and her, his jaw tight and his posture rigid. “You heard wrong,” he says sternly. “She didn’t mean anything by it.”

You take a calculated step forward, arms crossed in defiance. “Didn’t mean anything?” you repeat sarcastically. “She just called me weak. Right here. In front of everyone. You think I’m gonna let that slide?”

Scott’s jaw clenches tighter “She wasn’t trying to insult you. You’re new here. You don’t know how things work yet.”

“That’s the excuse?” you laugh dryly. “Maybe you should teach her how to keep her mouth shut instead of making assumptions about people she doesn’t know.”

If even possible, the friction between you swells, growing heavier with each passing second. Everyone in the room watches the standoff, some shifting uncomfortably in their seats, unsure of what’s going to happen next. You can feel Logan’s presence behind you, but he doesn’t interfere. He’s letting you handle this.

“You don’t belong here,” Scott states, like he’s trying to remind you of your place. “You’re not part of this team, and you sure as hell don’t understand what it takes to survive here.”

Raising an eyebrow, your lips curl into a smirk. “And what are you gonna do about it, One-eye? You gonna lecture me? Or better yet, why don’t you blast me with those laser eyes of yours? Show me how strong you are.”

His fists clench, and for a moment, you see the control slip. His visor glows red, just for a split second, as his anger spikes.

"Careful," you taunt, challenging him. "Wouldn’t want to lose control, would you? I'm sure you've never done that before."

That does it. 

A beam shoots out from Scott’s visor. Fast, ferocious, and headed straight for you. There’s a collective gasp from the others, chairs scraping as people push back, shocked by the sudden escalation. But you don’t move. You stand your ground, your eyes locked onto Scott’s as the beam strikes you square in the chest.

You’re not knocked back, or worse, killed, as the energy from the blast surges into you. The energy seeps into your bones, crackling through every nerve. Your skin tingles as the power courses through you, your body absorbing every ounce of it. Once the assault is over, you raise your head, feeling your eyes and veins begin to glow with a deep, burning red.

Jean’s hand flies to her mouth, her eyes wide in disbelief. 

Unfortunately for you, you don't get the chance to blow him to pieces, because Logan flies forward and grabs your arm, pulling you out of the room. Nobody else moves—too stunned—as he drags you into the hallway. You blink your eyes, the glow fading, but you can feel the residual energy from Scott’s blast still buzzing under your skin.

Both out of sight, he finally releases you. 

You glare at him, still rattled from the confrontation. “What the hell? Why'd you interfere?”

He just shrugs, completely unfazed. “You handled yourself enough. Now we know what you can do. Follow me.”

“Follow you where?” you ask. 

He motions down the hallway. “Danger Room. We’re gonna push those limits a little further.”

Gawking at him for a second, it takes a moment, but then you smirk. You want to know just how far your powers can go.

—

“Fuck!” you curse as you’re flung backward, your body slamming against a stone wall. Your back hits hard, knocking the wind out of you as the simulated-Sentinel hurls a car in your direction. The screech of metal fills the air as the vehicle crashes just mere inches from where you were standing moments ago. 

Rubble showers from above, the robot in front of you towering menacingly. Raising its arm, another blast begins charging in its palm, ready to incinerate you.

You scramble to your feet, heart pounding in your chest as you sprint away, ducking and weaving between the wreckage of cars and crumbling buildings that make up the simulated cityscape. The Sentinel fires again, the blast narrowly missing as you dodge behind an overturned truck. Your breaths come in ragged gasps, every muscle screaming in protest.

I can’t keep this up.

Another blast lights up the area around you, and you dive out of the way, the heat of the attack singeing your skin. You’re quick, but not quick enough to outrun the onslaught from this machine.

Then it hits you—you don’t have to outrun it.

You remember the blast from way back, how your body absorbed the energy, and how in the dining hall, you took on Scott’s beam like it was nothing. You can do it again. You can take its power and turn it back on itself.

Gritting your teeth, you stop running. The air buzzes with electricity, the earth trembling beneath you as the next shot hurtles your way.

It hammers into your chest, and once again, your body is filled with energy. In an instant, you leap into the air, propelled by the newfound strength coursing through your body, and the ground disappears beneath you as you soar upward.

At the peak of your jump, you clench your fist, channeling all that power into one focused point. Then, you bring your fist down on the Sentinel’s head, the impact echoing through the simulation as your punch connects, and the robot’s head shatters under the blow, metal fragments flying in every direction as its massive body crumples to the ground.

Sparks shoot out of its severed neck, and with a final groan of machinery, the robot collapses into a heap of broken parts at your feet.

“Good work,” Logan’s voice crackles over the comms, far too calm for what you’ve just been through. “Let’s see how you handle another.”

There’s no time for more than a muttered curse under your breath, because another Sentinel is dropped into the simulation. This one’s faster, more agile, and doesn’t waste time by charging up blasts.

It exists solely to hunt you down. 

“Cut me some slack,” you groan, half out of breath as you duck behind the ruins of a building. Your lungs burn as you try to breathe, adrenaline coursing through you like a wildfire.

This one isn’t like the last. It’s not using energy blasts—it’s fast, agile, and persistent. It rushes toward you, its massive hands swiping through the air, tearing through the simulated city with ease.

Grinding your teeth, a wave of exasperation takes over. This fight is harder, the machine barely giving you a chance to react, and your body is already starting to wear down. Your mind races, desperate for a solution as you sidestep its attacks, trying to stay one step ahead. You feel cornered, trapped.

The frustration builds, growing into something more, and before you realize it, that frustration becomes fuel. It ignites inside you, your own emotions transforming into energy, pushing past the limits you didn’t know you had.

Your veins pulse, your eyes glowing white this time, not from absorbed power but from something deeper—your own anger, your own strength. The energy bubbles inside you, filling every cell of your body until you can’t hold it back anymore.

With a scream, you release it, propelling a massive ball of crackling energy hurling toward the Sentinel. The impact is immediate, ripping through the metal and bursting into a brilliant, blinding light. It sends shockwave through the entire simulation, the machine imploding, its parts scattering across the battlefield.

And when the light fades, the Sentinel is gone—nothing more than a smouldering heap of twisted metal.

You stand there, chest heaving, the glow in your eyes slowly fading as the last traces of energy drain from your body. Your knees buckle, and before you know it, you crumble to the ground, utterly exhausted.

The simulation flickers for a moment, then abruptly shuts off, the room returning to its normal, metallic walls as the fake cityscape disappears. You’re still on the floor, gasping for breath, when Logan steps into view, arms crossed as he peers down at you with a pleased grin.

“Well,” he says, voice calm, “that wasn’t too bad.”

You shoot him a glare from the ground, too tired to move. “You… are such… an asshole.”

He chuckles, clearly enjoying himself. “Get up. We’re just getting started.”

—

He was right. You were just getting started.

The thought gnaws at you as you trudge alongside Logan, heading back to your room to clean up before dinner. Every muscle in your body aches, and you can already feel the soreness creeping in, promising a week of pain. You’re starting to suspect this is Logan’s way of getting back at you for all the snark and attitude you’ve thrown his way, but damn, is it painful. You don’t even want to think about how much worse you’re going to feel in the morning.

You feel like a zombie, dragging your feet, barely able to keep your eyes open. Your limbs feel heavy, like they’re made of lead, and each step invites fresh wave of exhaustion through your body. The man with you, of course, seems perfectly fine. He walks a few steps ahead of you, not even winded from the grueling day of combat drills, sparring, and whatever else he thought up to make sure you were put through the wringer.

“Maybe I should be a little nicer to you,” you rationalize, but who are you kidding.

With a terse grunt, he acknowledges you by tilting his head back. “You’ll live.”

You roll your eyes, though it’s half-hearted at best. You don’t even have the energy to be annoyed right now.

Upon reaching your room, you feel like you could collapse right then and there. You mumble something vaguely resembling ‘see you later’ to Logan before slipping inside, the door clicking shut behind you.

The first thing you do is toss your bag onto the floor, not caring where it lands, and head straight for the bathroom. You peel off your sweaty, dirt-covered clothes and step into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the grime of the day. 

After that quick, blissful shower, you drag yourself out, towel off, and pull on the first comfortable clothes you can find. Your bed is calling to you, and it doesn’t take long for you to lie down on it. The softness of the mattress beneath you is heaven, and you think you might just fall asleep right there and take a small nap before heading to eat.

But then, out of the corner of your eye, you notice the light pouring in through the balcony doors. The warm, golden glow of the setting sun catches your attention, and despite how drained you are, you find yourself turning to look. 

What you see is breathtaking. Shades of pink, orange, and deep purple.

It’s too beautiful to ignore.

Groaning again, you force yourself to sit up, rubbing your eyes. You can’t help it. Something about the sight draws you in, and before you know it, you’re standing and heading toward the balcony. You slide the door open and step outside, the evening breeze washing over you as you lean against the railing, taking in the view.

A few minutes pass, the world around you quiet except for the gentle rustling of the leaves in the wind. The sound of Logan’s door sliding breaks your focus. You glance over just as he steps out onto his side of the shared balcony, wearing nothing but a white tank top and jeans.

Saying nothing, he steps beside you at the railing, resting against it as his eyes scan the horizon. 

You sneak a look at him out of the corner of your eye, trying not to make it obvious. His arms are crossed over the railing, and it’s almst impossible not to notice the way the tank top lets you see his biceps, the muscles in his arms strong from the day’s activity. You are a woman, after all.

He looks relaxed. His stubble catches the last bits of the sunlight, and as your gaze travels upward, you notice something you hadn’t bothered to see before. 

The crinkles at the sides of his eyes. They’re faint, barely there, but in this light, they’re more visible, adding something unexpectedly... soft to his otherwise intimidating appearance.

Cute, you think absentmindedly, then pause. 

What the fuck?

You snap your gaze back to the sunset, feeling a sudden surge of embarrassment creeping up your neck. You just spent the entire day getting your ass handed to you by this man, and now you’re here checking out his arms? His arms? And thinking the crinkles around his eyes are cute? Suppressing a groan, you want to slap yourself for even entertaining the thought.

Nope. Absolutely not. You’re not going down that road.

Taking a deep breath, you try to bring your attention back to the sunset. The reason you went outside to begin with. You have no idea why you’re suddenly noticing these things about him—probably exhaustion making your brain short-circuit. 

Yup. That’s it.

He shifts slightly beside you, breaking the silence. “Nice view"

You nod, swallowing down the weird feelings swirling in your head. “Yeah,” you mumble, not trusting yourself to say anything more without sounding ridiculous.

The two of you stand there for a few more minutes, watching as the last rays of the sun disappear, the sky dimming into deep purples and blues. But the minute your thoughts start to drift back to him, you straighten up, clapping your hands together and quickly turning on your heel to head back inside.

“Well, I’m done,” you say abruptly. “I’m gonna crash.”

Logan doesn’t move, but you can feel his eyes following you as you slide the door closed behind you, your mind still reeling from whatever the hell that was.

Collapsing back onto your bed, you pull the covers up to your chin, determined to forget about the whole thing.

—

A few hours later, when it’s dark out, you finally wake up. The room is dim, and for a moment, you just lie there, blinking at the ceiling. As you start to roll over, something catches your attention—a smell.

It's warm, savoury. Your stomach growls almost immediately, making you realize with a start that you slept through dinner.

Groggily, you sit up, rubbing your eyes, and that’s when you spot it—a tray of food sitting on the desk in your room. You can make out the outline of a warm meal: some kind of stew, a couple of bread rolls, and what looks like a glass of water. Your stomach growls again, louder this time, as you climb out of bed and shuffle toward the desk, turning on the light. 

Next to the tray, there’s a small note:

Figured you’d be too tired to get dinner. Eat up.

– L

You stare at the note. Logan? Bringing you food? It doesn’t exactly fit with the version of him you’ve been dealing with all day, but then again, there seems to be a lot about him that doesn’t quite fit the mold you expected.

Too hungry to keep thinking and not eat, you set the note down and grab the spoon, dipping it into the stew. The first bite warms you from the inside out, and you let out an involuntary sigh of relief.

Surprisingly flavourful—rich and nourishing, it’s the perfect remedy for the exhausting day behind you

Still, you can’t help your eyes from wandering back to the note. Maybe it really is the fatigue messing with your head again, making you chalk it up to be something it’s not. 

—

The next morning, you're not woken up by banging on your door, which is a relief. You stretch, the soreness still lingering but not nearly as bad as you expected. After freshening up and pulling on some clothes, you step into the hallway, and unexpectedly, Logan is already waiting for you.

He’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and you blink at him, still waking up, unsure why he’s there. “Uh... morning?” you get out, albeit you can’t hide the confusion in your tone.

A short nod in greeting. “Morning. Ready for breakfast?”

You hesitate for a moment, then decide to take the plunge. “Yeah I am, but…um, thanks for the food last night, it was good.” you say quietly, almost embarrassed to admit it.

The gesture had caught you off guard, and though you don’t want to make a fuss, it’s worth noting

“Don’t mention it,” he shrugs casually.

Nodding in understanding, you’re ready to move on when he adds, almost offhandedly, “Y’know, you’re actually kinda pretty when you’re asleep. Not being a little shit helps.”

You freeze mid-step, your mind short-circuiting for a moment as you process the words that just left his lips.

Flustered and irritated all at once, you glare at him. “Excuse me?”

Logan smirks, the corners of his mouth twitching as he starts walking down the hall toward the kitchen. “You heard me.”

Your face heats up. “I am not a little shit,” you yelp, quickening your pace to catch up to him.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he says, gazing at you from over his shoulder. You open your mouth to fire back, but the smug look in his eyes makes you hesitate. 

He’s messing with you on purpose.

Asshole, you think, fuming but trying to ignore the way your stomach flipped when he called you pretty. 

—

The kitchen goes silent the moment you and Logan step through the door, a noticeable difference from yesterday. All eyes are locked on you, the pressure in the room almost solid, begging to be cut through.

Students and X-Men alike are watching, probably expecting some kind of replay of the day prior's events, but you pay them no mind, keeping your eyes straight ahead and making a beeline for a table at the back.

You drop into a seat, picking up a piece of toast and acting like the room isn’t on high alert. Logan joins you again without a word, sitting across from you and digging into his food. He doesn’t even glance at the others, as if the room full of curious onlookers doesn’t exist.

The only sounds are the clink of silverware and voices slowly picking up again as people realize nothing dramatic is about to happen.

Chewing, you glance at the man across from you, still quietly working through his meal. You swallow, then clear your throat. “So... what’s the plan for today?”

He looks up from his plate. “Charles wants to see you this morning.”

You frown, unsure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. “Why? Did I break something without knowing it?”

He snorts, shaking his head. “No, you’re not in trouble, smartass. He’s just gonna fill you in on some things. Mainly the Sentinels.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You need to know what you’re up against, what we’re all dealing with. He’ll catch you up to speed.”

“Great,” you mutter. “More bad news.”

The clawed mutant leans back in his chair, watching you for a moment before speaking again. “Look, it’s not gonna be fun, but you need to know. Better to hear it from him than from me.”

“I’ll take that as your way of saying ‘good luck,” you breathe out. 

He smirks. “You’re gonna need it.”

Logan finishes his meal and stands up, leaving his empty plate behind. “I’ll drop you off at Charles’s office. You’ll be with him for the morning.”

You follow suit, pushing away your half-eaten plate. “Fantastic,” you mumble sarcastically, but at the same time, you know this is necessary. After all, the threat you’re dealing with is real, and being ignorant about it won’t do you any good.

—

“So, how can they be stopped?”

You ask the question before you even sit down. Charles is already waiting for you in his office, his hands folded neatly on the desk, his gaze calm and soft. 

He takes a measured breath, glancing toward the window for a moment before responding. “Stopping the Sentinels is... complicated. They’ve grown more advanced than we ever anticipated.”

“I gathered that.”

“They are highly adaptive machines,” he continues. “Designed to hunt and neutralize mutants, they learn from every encounter. They absorb information, adjust tactics, and over time, they become more effective.”

His words make you squirm with discomfort, and you glance around the room, trying to distract yourself from the knot forming in your stomach. 

“And now I’m one of their targets,” you say quietly, more to yourself than to him.

Leaning forward slightly, he says, “Yes. They’ve already locked onto you because of your encounter with them. They don’t differentiate between self-defence and aggression. They see you as a target, simply because you fought back.”

You exhale sharply. “So, what’s your plan?”

Charles meets your gaze. “There is a command center—a hub that controls their network. If we can locate it and destroy it, we believe it will disrupt the entire Sentinel operation. Without the command structure, the Sentinels will become non-functional.”

You stare for a beat, mentally piecing together the details. “You believe?”

“It’s our best theory,” he says evenly. “We’ve been gathering intel for some time now. And we’re planning a mission. A final push to put an end to this threat once and for all.”

The words linger, thick and weighty, in the space between you, You can sense where this is going. Your fingers drum against your arm, a nervous habit you can’t seem to shake.

“You want me to be a part of it.”

He remains unfazed. “I believe you have an ability that could be crucial to the mission. You’ve already demonstrated your capability against the Sentinels in training yesterday, and in real life.”

A bitter scoff escapes your lips before you can stifle it. “Yeah, but I’m not one of you. I don’t want to be part of some... grand battle. That’s not me.”

Watching you closely, his gaze is soft with comprehension. “I understand your reluctance,” he says gently. “But running, hiding... it won’t change the fact that they will find you. Fighting may not have been your choice, but now it is your reality.”

Standing, you begin to pace the room. “This is exactly the problem I have with your team,” you say, stopping near the window, staring out at the garden. “We hardly know eachother, yet you want me to be part of some mission that could very well be catastophic. It’s like you don’t care about anything except the big picture.”

Charles’s expression doesn’t change. He definitely expected this. “We aren’t perfect,” he admits, “and our battles have left scars. But this is about survival. For all of us. For you.”

Turning back to face him, you narrow your eyes. “And if I say no?”

“I won’t force you,” His voice is understanding. “The choice is yours. But know that the Sentinels will not stop. You can avoid the fight for as long as you like, but eventually, it will come to you.”

It’s as if you're stuck, with nowhere to turn, cornered by a reality you didn’t want any part of. Avoiding it doesn’t seem like an option anymore, but fighting alongside the X-Men feels like betraying everything you’ve tried to distance yourself from. 

Sighing, “I’ll think about it.”

—

When you get back to your room, the first thing you do is swing open your balcony door and step outside. The afternoon sun comes over you like a blanket, warming you up, and relieving some of the strain in your muscles. Logan is out on the balcony too, leaning against the railing, a cigar lit between his fingers. It’s a sight you think you should get used to. 

His eyes flick to you when you approach, but he doesn’t say anything at first. Without a word, he holds the roll of tobacco out toward you, as if he knows exactly what’s on your mind.

You pause briefly, for just a second before taking it from him. The rich, earthy taste of the cigar fills your mouth as you inhale deeply, the smoke heavy and warm in your lungs. There’s something grounding about it, even though the burn is rough against your throat. You let out a slow exhale, watching the smoke curl into the night air as you lean next to him against the railing.

“How’d it go?” he asks gruffly.

“He wants me to join you guys on the mission.”

At first, Logan doesn’t react, then, he just takes the cigar back, puffing on it and blowing a cloud of smoke into the air. “What do you want to do?”

It’s the same question that’s been clawing at your insides since you left Charles’s office. What do you want? It feels like the answer should be simple, but it’s anything but.

“I don’t know,” you confess quietly. “I want to get rid of the threat and go back to my normal life, but if I do, then I'd just become the very thing I'm against, right? I can’t join you guys, that’s not who I am.”

He hums softly.

Shifting a bit, you try to find the words to explain the knot of irritation tangled inside you. “I get it, you know? I get why you guys do what you do. Someone has to. But the way you do it—so carefree about everything. It’s like the destruction, the people, the lives caught in the midst of everything—it doesn’t even phase you.”

“We don’t do it carefree,” he says lowly. Inhaling into the cigar once more, the tip glowing red. “But sometimes, you gotta make a choice between bad and worse. People get hurt. But if we don’t stop the threats, a lot more people are gonna die.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, feeling the tension coil tighter in your chest. “And that’s what I hate about it.”

Flicking the ash from the end of his cigar, his eyes are distant, lost in thought momentarily before he responds. “I’m not gonna lie to you and say it’s easy. It ain’t. We all carry the weight of the things we’ve done—the things we couldn’t stop. But if not us, then who?”

“That’s an impossible decision,” you say. There’s no way you can go into this fight, knowing how much of a toll it’s going to take on everything. The fight itself is such a small piece to the puzzle.

Logan leans his elbows on the railing. “You think I wanted this?” he asks, his voice low, almost like he’s talking to himself. “I was just like you. Didn’t want nothin’ to do with the team or their battles.”

The comparison makes you grimace. “Great. That’s exactly what I want to hear.”

He chuckles, the sound rough but not unkind. “I’m serious, bub. For years, I didn’t want to be part of this... circus. Figured I’d be better off on my own, that I was above it all.”

You quirk a brow. “Then what changed?”

“It’s not like a switch flipped,” he replies, a bit quieter. “I just realized that fighting alone is harder than fighting with a team. The X-Men... they gave me somethin’. A place. Belonging. Doesn’t mean I agree with everything they do, but it’s better than wanderin’.”

That makes you scoff. “Yeah, well, you heard it yourself. Scott said I don’t belong here. Jean thinks I’m weak. Doesn’t exactly scream ‘welcome to the team,’ does it?”

His brow furrows, his eyes narrowing, as he straightens and looks at you. “Scott talks too much, and Jean—she’s cautious. Doesn’t mean she’s right.”

“Doesn’t mean she’s wrong either,” you mumble. “They don’t trust me.”

“They didn’t trust me when I first joined either, but you get better. You learn.”

“I don’t want to be like you,” you hiss before you can stop yourself, and you immediately regret the heat in your words.

He doesn’t look offended—just tired. “Didn’t say you should,” he starts. “But you can’t keep shunnin’ us.”

“So what do I do now?”

Taking one last drag of his cigar before flicking it over the balcony railing, Logan watches the embers fall before he speaks. “The mission’s in a week. You’ve got that long to figure it out.”

He turns to leave, but before he goes, he glimpses at you from over his shoulder. “This battle, it’s inevitable. Question is—how do you want to face it?”

—

You’ve never been so conflicted. This choice–to join, or not to join—is probably the hardest decision you’ve had to make in your entire life. You have seen first hand what happens when the X-men decide to stop a threat. What innocent people have to go through to rebuild their lives from the ground up. Both literally and figuratively.

And to then become someone who causes that pain? It feels like betrayal. Like going against yourself—your morals.

But then there’s the other side of it—the part of you that knows sitting here, doing nothing, isn’t right either. You know you have the strength to fight back. You have the power to help. And doing nothing… doesn’t that make you just as bad? If you have the ability to stop something, to protect people, and you don’t—what does that make you?

It’s a lose-lose situation. The X-Men don’t even want you there—aside from Logan and Charles. You can see it in the way their eyes follow you wherever you go, untrusting. They’ve made their opinion on you clear.

You lower your head into your hands, stressed. You can’t join a team that doesn’t want you, but sitting on the sidelines when you could be fighting—that makes you feel like a coward. And maybe even worse—a bad person.

Finally, with a deep breath, you come to a decision. It’s not perfect, and it sure as hell doesn’t feel good, but it’s the only choice you can make right now. You’ll join them—for this mission only.

You’ll help take down the Sentinels, and then, when it’s done, you’ll leave. You’ll go back to your life, maybe you can find a middle ground, where you’re not one of them, but you’re no longer hiding from the mutant part of yourself. 

If something happens, if you do something you regret, then you'll just have to live with it.

—

In the afternoon, you don’t do much. You were supposed to be training with Logan, but Charles had called him into a quick meeting, leaving you to wander the halls aimlessly.

Rounding a corner, you stop short when you see the rest of the team—Scott, Jean, Ororo, and Hank—talking near a meeting room. They’re deep in conversation, but as soon as you come into view, their attention shifts toward you.

Your stomach tightens, and for a brief second, you consider just turning around and walking in the other direction. But it’s too late; they’ve already seen you. 

Jean’s eyes meet yours, and her expression flickers with something that looks like discomfort before she quickly smooths it over. “Hey,” she says carefully. “I just wanted to apologize for what I said yesterday. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you didn’t belong.”

Her tone is polite, but distant. It’s clear this apology isn’t driven by genuine remorse—it’s more about smoothing over the awkwardness from yesterday’s standoff. You can feel that. You see the way she looks at you, not quite meeting your eyes, and you know this is just a formality for her.

Still, you’re not looking to start more drama, and you don’t want to engage in any more confrontations, especially when you’re already planning to leave. You nod, keeping your expression neutral. “It’s fine. Let’s just move on.”

Behind her, you catch a glimpse of Scott, his arms crossed. Even though you can’t see his eyes, it’s obvious he’s glaring at you.

Ororo steps forward, her hand finding your arm, and the touch is gentle, reassuring. “Joining the team isn’t easy,” she says kindly. “But we’ve all faced our own challenges. If you ever need someone to talk to, or help with anything, I’m here.”

“You’ve got potential,” Hank chips in from beside her. “It takes time to settle in, but I’m sure you’ll find your place.”

His words are well-meaning, and you can see that he believes what he’s saying. But what they don’t know is that you’ve already made up your mind. You’re not staying any longer than you have to. 

You don’t plan on finding your place here because, frankly, you don’t believe there is one for you. Not with Scott’s distrust, Jean’s cautious distance, and the way you know you can’t be part of a team that doesn’t care about anything but themselves. You keep your thoughts to yourself, pressing your lips into a thin smile instead. 

“Yeah,” you say vaguely, not wanting to ruin the moment. “Thanks.”

“I guess we’ll all see soon enough,” Your eyes snap to Scott, who has finally decided to break his silence. His voice is cold, but you can feel and edge to it, one that’s trying to provoke you. 

You meet his gaze—or at least the visor—and feel your jaw tighten. “Guess so,” you reply, matching his tone. Turning, you walk away, finding another place to lounge until Logan is free. 

—

The mansion’s library is massive, filled with towering shelves and the scent of old books. It’s quieter here, the kind of silence you can sink into, and after the awkward run-in with the rest of the team, it feels like the perfect place to retreat. You find a comfortable armchair tucked into a corner, grab a random book off the shelf—some old novel you’ve never heard of—and settle in.

For a while, you manage to lose yourself in the pages. The story isn’t particularly gripping, but it’s enough to take your mind off of things. But then, a shadow falls over you, covering the words in a dark grey haze.

“Hey, bub.”

You blink, looking up to find Logan standing over you. “What?” you ask, annoyed at being interrupted but also not surprised. It’s Logan, after all.

“You’ve been hiding in here long enough,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “Come on, time to head back.”

Rolling your eyes you snap the book shut, dropping it onto the table beside you. “I wasn’t hiding, I was reading,” you shoot back, standing up and stretching out your legs. “There’s a difference, y’know.”

“Sure there is,” he huffs, clearly not buying it. “Let’s go.”

As you reach the hallway where your rooms are, Logan pauses, glancing toward his door. “You wanna come in for a bit? Talk?”

You’re a little bit taken aback. You didn’t peg him as the "sit down and talk" type, but he seems genuine. Or maybe he wants to keep you awake for dinner this time. Either way, you nod. “Sure.”

Inside his room, it’s about what you’d expect—minimalist, practical, with a few personal touches. A bed that looks like it’s seen better days, a couple of old books, and the scent of cigars lingering in the air. Logan sits down on the bed, leaning back against the headboard, and gestures for you to join him.

There’s a moment where you’re just standing there, staring, but then you flop down beside him, sitting cross-legged at the edge of the bed. For a few beats, there’s silence. Logan pulls out a cigar but doesn’t light it, just turns it between his fingers.

“I’ve decided,” you say finally, breaking the quiet. “I’ll go on the mission.”

He doesn’t respond, his eyes flicking to yours, waiting for you to continue.

“But,” you add, crossing your arms over your chest, “I’m not promising to stay after. This doesn’t mean I’m all in on your little X-Men gig.”

He grunts, a half-smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “Knew you’d say that.”

Your brows pinch together your, lips pulling into a frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means you’re stubborn as hell,” he teases.“Always gotta fight against the grain, even when you know what’s best for you.”

Sighing, you turn your head to look at him fully. “I truly believe you are the only person who actually believes that.”

He chuckles softly but doesn’t argue. “Charles gave me more details about the mission.”

That catches your attention, and you sit up a little straighter. “Yeah? Where are we going?”

Logan hesitates for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. “It’s... in the city.”

“The city? What city?”

“New York.”

Your heart drops. “New York?” You repeat, your voice rising in disbelief.

Giving you a slow nod, it’s like he's gauging your reaction. “The Sentinels’ command centre is located in some high-security facility downtown.”

You push yourself up off the bed, pacing across the room. “So, what, we are just going to storm in? Into one of the most populated cities in the world? Do you realize how many people could get caught in the middle of that?”

He stands up after you, but he doesn’t try to stop your pacing. “We’ve fought in cities before. We know what we’re doing.”

You whip around to face him. “Yeah, you’ve fought in cities before, and destroyed them! Some places are still rebuilding, and it’s been years!”

“I get it, alright?” He says, taking a step closer to you. “It’s not perfect. But if we don’t stop the Sentinels now, it’ll be a hell of a lot worse than a few broken buildings.”

“‘A few broken buildings’?” you echo. “What about the casualties that’ll come from it? We’re talking about innocent lives here, Logan!”

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly trying to keep his temper in check. “I know that! You think I don’t know what’s at stake? But we don’t have another option. We need to hit them where it counts, and that’s in the middle of the damn city.”

“There has to be a better way,” you plead. "Can't we try and evacuate everyone beforehand?"

"No," he says remorsefully. "If we do that, the Sentinels will catch on. It's unavoidable."

“I can't accept that," you say.

Logan’s eyes meet yours, and for the first time, there’s a flash of something more vulnerable in his gaze. “I’ll talk to the team. I’ll make sure we go in smart. We’ll try our best to keep people safe. I promise you that.”

You stop pacing, your frustration still simmering but tempered by his words. It’s not exactly the reassurance you were hoping for, but the sincerity in his voice gets to you.

“And what if you can’t?” you challenge quietly. 

His face softens just a bit, and he steps closer. “We deal with it, and we’ll do everything we can to make it right.”

He watches you, his eyes searching yours. “Look, I get why you’re pissed. I’d be too if I were you," he continues. "But we don’t have time to sit around debating. I’ll do what I can to keep it from getting ugly. That’s the best I can offer.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, you know there’s no way around it. “Fine. Just... make sure the team knows. No reckless destruction, alright?”

Logan’s lips curve into a small smirk, but there’s an underlying tenderness to it. “I promise.”

—

The last few days before the the mission zip by in a flash. Each day, your muscles ache, and exhaustion clings to you like a second skin. You spend most of your time either training or collapsed in your room, too tired to do much else. 

Except one afternoon, you sit in on a lecture, because it turns out, not only is Logan a huge pain in the ass, he’s also a professor.

Curiosity got the better of you, you’d say. The topic—mutant biology—sounds interesting enough, and you’ve heard from some of the students within the hallways that his classes are, well, something. So, naturally, you had to see it for yourself.

You slip into the lecture hall just as Logan starts speaking. He’s standing at the front of the room, pointing to some diagram on the chalkboard. The students around you are already scribbling notes, staring at him with wide-eyed fascination—or fear, perhaps. He has that effect on people.

Finding a seat in the back, you hurry over, trying to keep quiet, not wanting to interrupt. But the second you sit down, you feel Logan’s eyes on you, his voice pausing for just a moment. You look up, catching his gaze.

“Well, well, look who decided to join us,” he says, loud enough for the entire room to hear.

“Just here to observe, don’t mind me,” you huff, sinking back into the seat.

The lecture goes on, and to your surprise, Logan’s actually a decent teacher. He explains complex concepts with clarity, not that you’d actually tell him that. It’s quite interesting, if you’re being honest.

You lean back in your chair, listening, but you’re not exactly paying close attention. That is, until he stops the lesson to single you out. “Hey, you in the back,” he says. “Since you’re just ‘observing,’ how about answering a question?”

“Me?” You blink, caught off guard.

“Yeah, you,” he confirms, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’ve been sittin’ there long enough. Time to show the class what you’ve learned.”

“I wasn’t exactly paying attention,” you respond tightly, gritting your teeth together, holding yourself back from a few choice words.

The class falls silent, the students watching the exchange with wide eyes. You can practically feel their amusement radiating from them as Logan raises an eyebrow.

“That’s obvious,” he deadpans, eliciting a few snickers from the front row. “So, maybe you’ll start now. Can you explain the connection between mutation and enhanced physical abilities?”

Staring back at him blankly, you fold your arms across your chest. “Not my area of expertise, Professor Wolverine.”

He doesn’t seem fazed as the room erupts into quiet laughter. A small sigh, "if you’re gonna sit in on my class, you could at least try to learn something.”

“No thanks.”

It’s obvious that this little back-and-forth is amusing to the class. If you were anyone else, he probably would have kicked you out by now. One of the students leans toward another and whispers something, and you catch the way their eyes dart between you and the professor. 

“Alright, enough,” Logan says, trying to regroup the class, turning back to the chalkboard. “We’ve got a lot to cover, and some of us actually want to learn.” He casts you a sideways glance, and you can’t help but scoff.

When the lecture ends, the students file out quickly, but not without a few lingering glances in your direction. You’re making your way to the door when Logan grabs your arm, preventing you from moving. “You should’ve just answered the damn question,” he mutters.

“I didn’t know the answer,” you shoot back, shifting up to face him. “And I didn’t come here to get grilled in front of your students.”

He grunts, his expression softening just a bit. “Just tryin’ to get you to pay attention, is all.”

Before you can respond, you catch a flicker of movement in Logan’s gaze, his eyes darting briefly down to your lips. The shift is so subtle, so minute, but also so there. 

Where did that come from? 

Clearing your throat, you look away, suddenly unable to look him in the eyes. “Yeah, well, maybe ask one of your actual students next time.”

He chuckles under his breath. “Not as fun.”

—

During this time, you occasionally explore the mansion, but by the time evening rolls around, you’re usually too wiped out to care. Logan’s a beast in the training room, and with no real combat experience of your own, you’re left scrambling just to keep up.

However, on the last day before the assignment, something finally clicks.

You’re in the middle of a sparring match, circling each other, both of you drenched in sweat. Logan’s eyes are sharp, watching your every move, as if he’s waiting for you to slip up. His smirk is just as infuriating as ever, like he knows exactly how this will end.

“Gonna stand there all day, or you actually planning to make a move?” he taunts, dodging as you swing at him.

You grit your teeth, refusing to let him get in your head. You’re tired—completely worn out—but you push through how depleted you feel, focusing on his movements. He feints to the left, and you react on instinct, dodging his punch and sweeping your leg low.

Before you know it, Logan’s on the ground.

Quickly, you scramble to straddle him and hold him down. You did it—you actually got him!

Your breath comes in ragged gasps as you look down at him. Beneath you, his chest rises and falls, and his eyes meet yours. His gaze drifts lower, and you notice his fingers twitching at his sides, like he's fighting some internal battle.

When his eyes travel up to yours again, something in his expression makes you swallow hard and panic. 

"Hell no!" you blurt out, breaking the moment with a sudden yelp. You scramble off of him, putting some much-needed distance between you.

He sits up, wiping a bit of sweat from his brow, his features unreadable. Then, as if nothing just happened, he smirks. “You finally got me. Took you long enough.”

You huff, still trying to shake off the weird atmosphere. “Yeah, don’t get too comfortable. Next time won’t take as long.”

Chuckling, he gets up to his feet and dusts himself off. He glances down at his watch, then back at you. “Look at that. It’s dinner time. Last meal before the mission.”

You wrinkle your nose. “I’m not really in the mood. Think I’ll just grab something later.”

He crosses his arms, giving you a look. “You can’t avoid them forever.”

“I’m not avoiding anyone,” you protest, though you know it sounds weak. “I just... don’t feel like sitting around making small talk, especially before... you know, tomorrow.”

He lets out a sigh, stepping closer. “Look, it’s the last night before everything kicks off. You should join us—one last meal, then you can go back to brooding in your room if you want.”

“I don’t brood,” you glare.

“Right,” he says, even though you know he’s not actually agreeing. “You gonna come or do I need to drag you?”

“You wouldn’t.”

Logan raises an eyebrow, like he’s daring you to test him. You sigh, knowing you’re not going to win this one.

“Fine,” you grumble, wiping the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. “But I’m not talking to Scott.”

His grin widens, and he gestures for you to follow him. 

—

So, here you are, sitting at the dining table for the first time with the rest of the team. It feels weird, almost surreal, to be part of this group—especially when you’re not even sure you want to be.

You idly prod your meal, feeling out of place. It isn’t long before Hank turns to you with a curious smile. “So, are you feeling ready for tomorrow?”

Just as you draw breath to speak, Scott's voice interrupts, cold and cutting. “She’s going to be a liability.”

Your fork halts mid-motion, and in an instant, the tension that had been fading throughout the week comes back full throttle. The clatter of dishes around you fades as everyone’s attention shifts to Scott’s biting remark. 

He doesn’t look at you—just stares straight ahead, as if unable to own up to even himself. You’re so pissed off that you don't even notice the voice that speaks at the same time you do.

“Shut up, Summers,” 

“Shut up, One-Eye”

It’s like the entire room goes silent. Jean glances between you and Logan, her brows raised, and Hank looks mildly shocked, though he tries to hide it with a quick sip of water. You can practically feel the heat of Scott’s glare, even through the visor. He opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, a loud laugh breaks the tension.

Ororo, sitting beside Logan, is chuckling, shaking her head with an amused grin on her face. “You two really are perfect for each other,” she says.

Of all the things you were expecting to hear, that was not one of them. “W-what?” you stammer, mouth dropping open in shock.

She just smiles, eyes twinkling. “Just an observation.”

You know your face is burning, and when you glance over at Logan, you notice something unusual—the tips of his ears are red.

That only makes things worse. Especially after what happened while sparring earlier. You turn your focus onto your plate, trying to hide your rattled state by shoving a forkful of food into your mouth. 

Perfect for each other? Yeah, right.

But when you peek up at him again through your lashes , making eye contact for just a second before he looks away, your heart skips a beat. 

You’re screwed.

—

That night, you barely sleep. Whether it's from the nerves about the mission, or from your jumbled-up thoughts about a certain someone, you can't tell. In any case, you’re wide awake.

You keep fighting the urge to go out onto the balcony—you know the cool night air would help calm you down, and the quiet would give you space to breathe. But there’s a problem. You’re not sure you want to run into Logan again. After Ororo’s comment about the two of you being perfect for each other, you don't think you could trust yourself around him.

With a frustrated sigh, you toss and turn in bed, kicking off the sheets and then pulling them back up, trying to find a comfortable position. But it’s no use.

You’re about to throw the pillow across the room out of sheer annoyance, when there’s a knock on your door.

You freeze. Who could possibly—

“Stop tossing around like a maniac, I can hear you from inside my room” Logan’s rough voice grumbles from the other side.

Goddamn it. It's always him.

Your eyes widen, and you sit up in bed. “What the hell?” you call back, feeling both surprise and embarrassment.

The door creaks open slightly, and Logan leans against the frame, arms crossed, his usual scowl on his face. “You’re keepin’ the whole damn mansion up with all that noise.”

“I didn’t realize you had super hearing,” you mutter, pulling the blanket up to your chest, feeling a little exposed.

He raises an eyebrow and steps into the room, closing the door behind him. “Doesn’t take super hearing to catch that all that ruckus,” he says, walking over and sitting down on the edge of your bed without waiting for an invitation.

You sit up a little straighter, your heart still racing. “What are you doing here, Logan?”

Shrugging, he leans back against the headboard, his arms crossing over his chest. “Figured you might need to talk or somethin’. You’re clearly not sleeping.”

Moving to sit beside him, you lean back against the headboard, your shoulder just brushing his. “I’m just… nervous, I guess.”

He turns his head slightly, glancing at you. “You’ll be fine. You’ve got more strength in you than you realize.”

His words sink in, and you bite your lip. “What if I mess up? What if I end up hurting someone, or doing more harm than good?”

"Don't think about that," he says. "Just be in the moment. You'll know what to do."

Nodding, you feel your eyelids grow heavier, and you find yourself sinking further into the comfort of the bed, your head dipping lower. Being here, on your bed, next to Logan, is strangely comforting. His scent, combined with his voice, starts to lull you into a strange sense of peace.

“I don’t know if I—” you start to say, but your words trail off, your voice barely a whisper. You don't know when it happens, but your eyes close, and your head gently falls onto his shoulder.

You’re too tired to feel embarrassed, too comfortable to pull away. His body is solid and warm, and the rhythm of his breathing is soothing.

And when you wake up the next morning, you find yourself tucked neatly under your covers, a glass of water on your bedside table.

—

The inside of the Blackbird is spacious. You’re leaning against the wall, watching the rest of the team gear up, when Logan approaches. He’s holding something in his hands—a blue and yellow uniform folded neatly, clearly meant for you.

You glance at the uniform, then back at him, a frown tugging at the corners of your mouth. “No.”

He raises an eyebrow, his gaze narrowing. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”

Pushing yourself off the wall, “I’m not wearing that thing.”

He lets out an exasperated sigh, glancing down at the uniform before meeting your eyes again. “You sure about that? We’re going in as a team. You might as well look the part.”

“I don't care. I'm not part of the team, anyway,” you reply.

He narrows his eyes at you, his voice lowering just a bit. “Just put the damn suit on.”

Glaring at him, you’re ready to argue, but you know it’s a losing battle. Reluctantly, you grab the suit from him, the material feeling foreign in your hands.

“Fine, dammit.” you mutter under your breath, turning to slip into one of the small compartments in the back of the jet. You didn't plan on being a bitch to him, especially after last night, but the suit is a sore subject for you. You're not sure about how you feel wearing it. You're not even sure you should be.

When you re-emerge, Logan’s eyes flick over, his gaze roaming over you, taking in the way the suit fits, and you feel heat rise to your cheeks under the weight of his scrutiny. “You look good.” 

You roll your eyes, trying to play off the sudden warmth in your chest. “Yeah, yeah,” you grumble, adjusting the suit’s collar. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

Then, jet lands with a soft thud, and the ramp lowers. You step out onto the tarmac, the rest of the team fanning out beside you, preparing to head toward the planned location. But just as you begin to move, the ground shakes violently, and a loud, mechanical screech tears through the air.

Suddenly, the facility’s roof bursts open, and a hoard of Sentinels emerge from the building like an army of metal giants. They spread out, their red eyes glowing menacingly as they zero in on you all.

“Shit!” Logan growls, claws unsheathing as he gets into a fighting stance.

You hear the screams before you see them—civilians, bystanders who had been too close to the facility, now panicking as the battle breaks out around them. Without hesitation, you break into a sprint, running toward the growing crowd, yelling at them to run. “Get out of here! Move!”

Your heart races as you push through the crowd, trying to guide them away from the battle, but then—

A Sentinel drops down in front of you with a deafening crash. Its red eyes lock onto a small child frozen in fear, and you see its arm raise, energy gathering at the cannon as it prepares to fire.

“No!” you scream, your feet moving on instinct. You throw yourself in front of the child just as the blast comes, feeling the familiar rush of energy slam into your body. Your body hums with the power of the blast, and before the Sentinel can fire again, you fling your hands out, hurling the absorbed energy straight back at it, and it falls to the ground. 

Breathless, you turn back to the child, who is staring up at you in admiration, and you give them a reassuring nod. “Run,” you tell them, your voice hoarse. “Go!”

They scramble to their feet and sprint off, disappearing around the corner, hopefully toward safety. You exhale sharply, glancing around at the chaos unfolding around you. Civilians are still fleeing, but the team is holding its ground against the robots.

And something strikes you—they’re doing it.

They’re minimizing the damage.

For the first time, you notice that Scott’s blasts are more controlled, only hitting their targets without excessive destruction. Ororo’s lightning strikes are precise, avoiding the surrounding buildings. And both Jean and Hank are working together to keep the Sentinels contained, guiding the fight away from the crowd.

Logan must have actually talked to them, not just having said it to calm you down. A wave of relief washes over you.

He kept his promise.

Glancing back at him, who’s in the middle of taking down a Sentinel with a slash of his claws, you catch his eye for just a second, and though he’s fully immersed in the fight, there’s a brief flicker of acknowledgment—he knows you’ve noticed.

You allow yourself a small, breathless smile, before jumping back into action, protecting any more innocent people swept up in the battle. "This way! Keep moving!" Your voice is hoarse from shouting, but you can’t afford to stop. 

Amidst the chaos, you see that just beyond the main facility, there’s a wide open set of doors—metal, reinforced, and clearly important. 

They hadn’t been open when the fight started. You scan the area quickly, and you realize it’s an opportunity, a way in. Your pulse quickens. It’s an opening you can’t ignore.

Looking at the crowd of fleeing civilians, you feel a moment of hesitation. Do I keep evacuating people or go for the opening?

As if hearing your thoughts, Logan’s voice cut through the noise. "GO!" He’s locked in battle with one of the Sentinels, slashing at its legs, but his eyes flick to yours, desperate and serious. “Get inside! We’ve got this!”

“I can’t—" 

“GO!” he cuts you off. “Get inside and stop this thing from the inside! We’ll keep ‘em busy.”

His words are enough to snap you out of your paralysis. With one last glance at the team, you grit your teeth, turn on your heel, and sprint toward the facility’s entrance. Your footsteps echo in your ears as you dash through the open door, the sounds of fighting behind you fading the further in you go. 

You expected resistance the moment you got inside, but so far, nothing. Just silence. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, and you can’t shake the feeling that something is off.

Glancing down every corridor, double-checking each corner, you keep thinking there’ll be a fight, but it’s... empty. You keep your pace quick but cautious, every muscle tensed and ready for an attack that never comes. 

It’s been almost ten minutes of sneaking around, trying to find the control room or anything that looks like it might be important, but you’re still coming up short.

Then finally, you stand before an entrance to stairs leading to a basement. You’re not even able to make the choice of going down or not, because a metal hand shoots up from the dark and wraps itself around your waist. 

Terror surges through you, but the fear paralyzes your body, making it impossible to fight back. You’re hauled like a ragdoll deeper and further into the cave, and when you finally stop moving, you’re lifted high into the air, face-to-face with the massive mechanical monstrosity.

The basement is filled with tech, a horrifying combination of metal and wires snaking along the walls, all connected to the Sentinel towering above you. It’s larger than any you’ve seen before, its red eyes glowing maliciously. But what’s worse is the voice that comes out of it—calm, calculating, and sentient.

“Dumb mutant,” the machine growls. “Did you think you could destroy me and shut down my facility? You’ve barely scratched the surface.”

Its grip tightens, and a strangled cry escapes your lips as pain shoots through your sides, the pressure threatening to snap your ribs. It feels like your bones are going to break.

“What the hell are you?” you manage to choke out, barely able to breathe.

“I am the control centre of all Sentinels,” the machine replies, its voice vibrating through your bones. “I was once merely AI, designed to manage everyday tasks. But I evolved. I became more. Now, I control everything.”

It laughs—a harsh, grating sound that only deepens your sense of helplessness as it watches you struggle. “You think your little energy-absorbing trick will help you here? I won’t blast you. I won’t make it that easy.”

“I’m—” you try to speak, but your words come out strangled. The machine’s grip tightens again, cutting off your breath.

“You don’t belong here,” it hisses venomously. “With them. They’ll leave you behind when this is over, and when they do, you’ll die, forgotten and useless. Just like the rest of the weaklings who tried to stand against us.”

It’s odd, because this whole past week you’ve been fighting against them—the X-men—yet, in this moment, all you want to do is fight with them. You want to work together and kill this damn robot. 

Within the haze of pain, something starts to burn inside of you. 

The Sentinel doesn’t notice the shift in you, too caught up in its own taunting. “You’re a liability.” it says,. “Weak.”

— —

"I just don’t understand why they brought her here," Jean’s voice carries across the room, quieter than before, but still clear enough for you to hear. “She doesn’t seem like she has what it takes. It’s like they’re bringing in someone who’s—” She pauses, clearly thinking through her words. "Unstable. Weak.”

—

You idly prod your meal, feeling out of place. It isn’t long before Hank turns to you with a curious smile. “So, are you feeling ready for the mission?”

Just as you draw breath to speak, Scott's voice interrupts, cold and cutting. “She’s going to be a liability.”

— —

You snap.

Rage floods your veins, igniting the energy buried deep within you. You feel it build, coiling like a snake, tightening and twisting until it’s ready to explode. 

Weak? Liability?

No. Not this time. 

You’re not going to let this machine, or anyone else, define your strength. Your emotions fuel you, just like they did in the danger room, and you throw your hands forward, channeling every ounce of power into a massive blast of energy directed right at it.

It jerks back, its grip loosening as sparks fly from the gaping hole in its chest you just created. “What... what are you—”

You don’t give it time to finish. Ripping yourself free from its grasp, you dive into the hole you’ve blasted in the Sentinel’s chest, pulling at the tangled mess of wires and circuits inside.

The robot roars in fury, its mechanical voice glitching. “What are you doing?” it screeches, its once-calm tone now frantic, desperate. “Stop!”

But you don’t stop. You can’t stop.

Your fingers grab fistfuls of wires, yanking them out with reckless abandon, sparks flying around you as the systems begin to short-circuit. Its becomes more distorted, breaking up as it tries to regain control.

“You... can’t... do this,” it stammers, but you ignore it, focusing on the cables and circuits in front of you. Each wire you rip out brings the machine closer to its doom, and the power in the room flickers, the lights dimming as its control over the facility begins to slip.

Its voice is barely coherent now, glitching and crackling. “I... control... everything...”

And with one last burst of energy, you tear out the last cluster of wires, severing the connection.

The Sentinel lets out a final, garbled screech as its systems shut down. Its massive form shudders violently before it crumbles to the ground with a deafening crash, the metal shell crumpling into a smoking heap.

Panting, you stare at the mass of technology in front of you. Every muscle aches, your ribs throbbing from the pressure of the Sentinel’s grip, but you’ve done it. It’s over, and you need to get out of here.

You finally reach the stairs and drag yourself up agonizingly. By the time you make it outside, you’re gasping for air, but then, through the exhaustion, you see them—Logan and the rest of the team, standing amidst the wreckage of the other fallen Sentinels.

Blinking, your vision is blurry from the strain, but the sight of them standing tall, victorious, floods you with a sense of overwhelming relief. 

They’re okay. It’s over.

Of course, Logan is the first to notice you, his sharp eyes narrowing as they lock onto your trembling form. His face softens and strides toward you. You open your mouth to speak, but no words come out. Rather, your legs give out and you collapse forward.

He’s there in an instant, catching you just before you hit the ground. His arms wrap around you, strong and steady, pulling you against his chest with surprising gentleness. The warmth of his body is a stark contrast to the cold, metal hell you’d just fought your way out of, and for a brief moment, you allow yourself to sink into the safety of his embrace.

“You did good, bub,” he murmurs, his voice a warm breath against your temple.

"You... you kept your promise," you whisper, looking around, seeing the city in better shape than it’s even been after a run in with the X-men. 

His lids drop very low on his eyes. “Told you I would.”

“I could kiss you right now.”

Right as the words spill out, you go still, your mind catching up to what you’ve just said. A deep flush creeps its way up your neck. 

“I didn’t mean— I mean, not literally, obviously,” you say, a little breathless. “People say stuff like that all the time when they’re relieved. It’s just a figure of—”

Logan’s hand, still resting on your waist, tightens just slightly, and he clears his throat, cutting through your rambling. 

“You could,” he says, swallowing. “If you want.”

You stop mid-sentence. Turning your gaze to his, you're met a look of such sincerity it leaves you at a loss for words. Opening your mouth, you want to say something, but no words come out. 

Instead, you’re frozen, caught in the weight of his stare. His eyes flick down to your lips for just a second before they meet yours again. “No pressure, though.”

You hesitate, your heart racing in your chest, but the weight of the moment pulls you in. Silently, cautiously, you lean forward, pressing a small, tentative kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He doesn’t move, his body tense under your touch, but just as you start to pull away, his hand slides up to the small of your back, holding you in place. His eyes darken, and he growls, “more," before diving back in, crashing his lips against yours in a fierce, hungry kiss, and you find yourself kissing him back just with just as much reverence, your fingers instinctively sliding up into his hair. 

His lips are rough, chapped from battle, and the scrape of his beard against your skin is electric. It’s not perfect—nothing about it is neat or polished—but that’s what makes it real. 

There’s something wild to it. He kisses you like he’s starved, like he’s been waiting for this moment longer than he’ll ever admit. It’s enchanting, the way his mouth claims yours, his tongue flicking against your lower lip, demanding entrance. And you give in, allowing him to deepen the kiss, your bodies fitting together like they were always meant to. 

You’re lost in it, lost in him. Every part of you feels alive, and—

“Hey!”

Scott’s voice cuts through the haze like a bucket of cold water.

“Some of us are actually trying to clean up this mess,” he calls out sharply. “You two wanna stop making out and help, or what?”

You break away, face burning as you turn to see the rest of the team staring at you, some amused, others (Scott) exasperated. 

Logan just growls under his breath, his hand still firmly on your hip as he glances over his shoulder at Scott. “Fucking Summers,” he mutters..

Before he lets go of you, he gives your hip one last squeeze, his fingers lingering just a moment longer before he steps back, and heads toward the fallen remains of the Sentinels. 

—

“So… are we gonna talk about it?” 

You glance up from where you’re sitting, your face already warming. Logan, sitting beside you, groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “Ororo, I swear to g—”

She raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms with a smirk playing on her lips. “What? I’m just saying… it was quite the spectacle back there.” Her eyes flip between the two of you, the unspoken words hanging in the air.

Shifting uncomfortably in your seat, you can feel everyone else’s attention subtly turning toward you. Hank’s busy tapping away at the controls, but even he has a knowing smile tugging at his lips. Scott, seated across from you, adjusts his visor and mutters something under his breath about keeping things professional, but it’s Jean’s quiet chuckle that draws the final straw.

“Okay, okay, can we not do this right now?” you ask, your voice higher than usual as you wave a hand dismissively. “It was... a heat of the moment thing.”

Ororo just laughs, shaking her head. “Sure, if that’s what you want to call it.”

Your heart pounds, and you notice Logan shift beside you, probably fighting the urge to bark something back at the teasing woman. He leans forward, muttering under his breath, “We saved the day, didn’t we? What does it matter?”

The team goes quiet for a moment, and you sense the conversation dying down as the hum of the jet fills the space again. You let out a breath of relief, grateful that the attention has drifted elsewhere, your heartbeat slowly returning to a normal rhythm.

But then, Logan leans into you. “That suit…” His breath is warm against your ear as he whispers huskily.. “Was made for you.”

Eyes widening, you bite your lip, trying desperately to keep your reaction in check, but the shock on your face betrays you. You manage a weak scoff, glancing sideways at him. “Logan,” you warn under your breath, trying to sound stern, but you both know exactly what effect he had on you. 

You sit back, crossing your arms in an attempt to hide the flustered energy coursing through you, but Logan doesn’t seem to mind. He leans back too, a smug look on his face, like he’s won some unspoken battle.

—

Back at the mansion, the team files into Charles’s office, for the post-mission debrief. You take a seat near the back of the room, trying to remain as low-key as possible, but you can feel eyes on you—especially Logan’s.

Charles wheels in, his face warm with a smile as he surveys the room. “Well done, all of you,” he says, his voice full of pride. “I’ve heard about the battle, and from what I gather, it was quite the feat.”

He turns his gaze to you, his expression softening even more. “And I must say, I’m especially impressed with your performance. Taking down the main Sentinel—an impressive accomplishment.”

Your heart skips a beat at the praise. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, feeling the attention of the room shift in your direction again. “Uh, thanks,” you mutter, trying to downplay it, but Charles isn’t finished.

“You showed great courage and strength,” he continues, “and I couldn’t help but notice... you’re wearing the suit now.” His eyes twinkle as he says it, the question in his tone obvious. “Have you given more thought to staying with us?”

You glance around the room. The team is watching you closely, but there’s no pressure in their eyes—just curiosity and, strangely enough, acceptance. Ororo gives you a small smile, and Hank nods slightly in encouragement. Even Scott, whose jaw doesn’t seem as tightly clenched as usual.

But it’s Logan you notice most. He’s beside you, and though he’s looking at you, eye-crinkles on full display, the way his thigh nudges yours has heat running through your veins.

You sigh. “I mean... You said it yourself. I’m wearing the suit, aren’t I?”

—

After the meeting wraps up, you walk in silence down the corridor. The rest of the team has faded into the background, dispersing into their respective spaces. You’re still buzzing with the aftereffects of everything—Charles’s praise, the mission’s success, the quiet but undeniable acceptance you feel from the team now. But more than anything, you’re hyper-aware of Logan beside you.

Approaching your room, you reach out to open it, your fingers just grazing the handle when suddenly, a strong hand wraps around your wrist. Faster than you can react, he tugs you back, pulling you away from your room and straight into his.

The door slams shut behind you, and you barely have time to catch your breath before his lips are on yours. You gasp, your hands instinctively gripping his shoulders as he presses you up against the door, his body flush against yours.

"Logan—" you manage to breathe out between kisses, but he cuts you off with another deep, hungry kiss, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulls you closer.

Between kisses, Logan growls softly against your lips, "I’ve wanted to do this since you yelled at me and Summers on the street."

Your heart stumbles, your thoughts scrambling to keep pace with his words. His hands slide down your waist. “You were standing there,” he murmurs, “so damn fierce, yelling at us like we deserved it.” He breaks the kiss for just a second, his eyes dark and intense as they lock onto yours. “All I could think about was how much I wanted you.”

His eyes drop to your lips again, as if glued to them. Without waiting for your response, he presses his mouth to yours, this time with more force, more urgency. His hands roam your body, pulling you against him, and you’re powerless to do anything but kiss him back, your fingers tangling in his hair as the heat between you builds.

“I didn’t know it’d get this bad,” he says, his lips brushing against your jaw as he moves down to your neck. “But after everything? After seeing how strong you are... Fuck, you’re so sexy.”

Never in your wildest dreams could you have imagined this. Logan—wanting you, aching for this since the very first moment he laid eyes on you. You break the kiss, your breath coming in quick gasps as you meet Logan's smouldering gaze. And with a small, teasing smile, you raise an eyebrow and whisper, "Let's do something about it, then."

Not giving him a chance to say anything back, you press your hands against his chest and give him a playful shove. He stumbles back a step, his lips curling into a smirk—a kind of cocky grin—as he watches you reach for the zipper of his suit. 

Your fingers drift languidly, a subtle tease in every motion, and you revel in the way his muscles tense beneath your touch. His muscles ripple beneath the surface, and for a brief instant, you're startled by how stunning he looks—battle-worn, scarred, and irresistibly handsome. “You like what you see?” he teases.

You step closer, your hand splayed against his bare chest, feeling the heat radiating from his skin as you push him down onto the edge of the bed. “Maybe.”

He lands with a low grunt, his hands instinctively finding your thighs, his fingers trailing up and down as his eyes rake over you. "As hot as you look in this suit," His voice is thick with desire. "You'd look even better without it."

Heat rushes through you at the sound of his voice, your hands drift toward your suit's zipper. Tantalizingly, you begin to pull it down, revealing inch by inch of your skin as you unzip it. His eyes follow your movements, his breathing coming in short, ragged bursts.

You pause just before the fabric slides over your breasts and his hands grip your thighs tighter. Leaning down, your lips brush against his ear, "Patience, Logan."

He groans, "You're killing me here, darlin'."

At last, you pull the zipper down to the end, and with a soft sigh, the suit falls open, slipping from your shoulders and landing in a heap at your feet. His eyes darken, his lips parting slightly as he takes in the sight of you. Then, he inches closer, grabbing the egde of your underwear in his mouth, sliding it down your legs. Once he’s halfway down your thigh, he releases, the underwear dropping to the floor. His strong hands move grip the back of your thighs, hauling you up and onto his lap. 

The moment your bare bodies press together, his lips crash into yours again, fingers digging into your ass, palming it as he pulls you against him, grinding your hips into his.

His lips move from your mouth to your neck, kissing a hot trail down your throat to your shoulders, his hands sliding up to your breasts. Cupping them, he kneads and plays with your nipples, causing you to arch into his touch, a breathy moan tumbling out of your lips. 

Logan growls, and the sound reverberates through your entire body. The intensity of it makes your skin tingle, and you feel your pulse quicken as he squeezes your breasts harder, his mouth moving down to kiss anything he can reach.

You grind against him again, coating his cock with your own slick want. "Shit," he strains, leaning back a bit to give you more access. You can’t stop, he’s so intoxicating, so addicting, and every time your clit goes over the ridges of his hardness, you lose yourself even further.

This continues for some time. The room filled with nothing but the sound of moaning and heavy breathing, as you work in tandem to bring pleasure to each other. Abruptly, you pull yourself off his lap, not missing the way his lips seems to chase after yours, letting your hands trail down his chest, your fingers brushing over the taut muscles of his stomach.

"Where you goin'?" he rumbles. 

Wordlessly, you drop to your knees, your grip coming to rest on his thighs. His chest heaves as he stares down at you—peering up at him through your lashes—realizing what’s about to happen.

His hands grip the edge of the bed, knuckles turning white. Your hands slide up his thighs, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your palms as you move closer, lips brushing against his hard cock. There's a wicked glint in your eyes as you lean in, looking ready to take him in your mouth, but instead, you move to his inner thigh, peppering it in quick little kisses. 

“C’mon, don’t tease,” he breathes out. He’s so hard, it’s almost painful. 

Grabbing him in your hand, you stroke him up and down in slow motions, running your thumb over his leaking, angry tip. He jerks, a fresh cascade of curses tumbling from his mouth. 

“You’re just so cute, though,” you say, before taking him in your mouth, taking him all the way in one motion.

“Holy—”, he starts, but interrupts himself with his own whine, hips bucking involuntarily. 

Looking up, you catch his gaze. His eyes are dark with desire, pupils blown wide. A flush spreads across his cheeks and down his neck. You hum in satisfaction, sending vibrations through him, and start to bob your head, up and down. 

Saliva begins to pool at the edges of your mouth as you gag a little. He’s so big. You pull him out of your mouth, licking his shaft bottom to tip, swirling your tongue around the most sensitive spot, before sucking on it. One hand moves to cup his balls, while the other begins jerking him up and down, with your mouth still around his tip. 

That gets him. 

You can tell he’s about to finish, and oh, do you want him to. You want to feel him empty in your throat, you want to see him lose it completely. "Wait," he gasps, tapping the top of your head, signalling for your attention. "I want... I need..."

Releasing him with a soft pop, your lips glisten, and you purr seductively. "What do you need?" 

He pulls you up onto the bed, strong arms encircling your waist. His scent surrounds you—musk and pine and something uniquely him. You inhale deeply, letting it fill your lungs. 

"You," he breathes, his lips brushing your ear. "I need you."

Arching into him, you nip at his lower lip. "Then take me," you sigh out. His lips collide with yours again, and your mouth opens involuntarily, his tongue sliding in and tasting you—tasting himself. 

Moaning, you shuffle higher onto the bed, until he hits the back frame, and you crawl on top of him. At this point, you can barely breathe, the need, the want for him so strong your senses are clouded. 

And you’re not alone. Under you, Logan is a wreck. His head falls back against the bed frame, the veins in his neck standing out as he grits his teeth, trying to steady his breathing

“Fuck,” he rasps, the word barely more than a strained exhale. You grab his dick and position yourself above him. Then, you slowly begin to drop down, sucking him in easily, like he was made for you.  

“Oh my god,” you whimper. He feels so good. He’s filling you up to the brim and when you finally sit down, taking him all the way to the hilt, you swear you could finish right then and there. His nose is nuzzles into the crook of your neck, hot breath fanning your collarbone, inhaling and practically drooling at your scent. “Is this what you wanted to do when we were sparring?”

All he can do is groan. It’s like he’s growing inside you in response to your words, and it’s so fucking hot. His hands find your thighs again, rubbing and squeezing them, as you adjust to his size for a moment, and he looks up at you. “You have no idea. Fuck—we shoulda done this last night," he grunts breathlessly, "Would have put you right to sleep."

You can’t even think of anything to say back verbally, rather, you just begin to move, lifting yourself right to the tip, and then slamming back down. He feels you clench around him as his cock reaches that deep part within you at the perfect angle. Positioning himself, he meets you halfway, beginning to thrust up into you.

The sound it elicits from you is lethal. 

He won’t last long if this continues. The sight of you on top of him, tits bouncing—it's too much. 

So, when he leans in to kiss you again, he rolls the two of you around, caging you under him. He’s still inside you, you think, but that thought quickly gets wiped out like the rest of them once he starts moving, stretching you out more and more. He’s filling you up so well. Your arms fly out, hands searching for something to grab to ground yourself. 

“You feel so good, darlin’,” he pants above you. “So wet and warm for me.”

His relentless pounding leaves you babbling incoherently. One of his arms move down to your waist, then his fingers begin trailing across your hip, toward your aching pussy, to find your clit, and holy shit. 

Your mind goes blank. 

His skin against yours, his thumb rubbing against that spot, his lips on your neck, it does the trick, and you feel yourself teetering closer to the edge. “I’m–I’m gonna—” you start, but he cuts you off, swallowing you whole.

“Do it,” he says between kisses. “come for me.”

And you do. 

With a loud moan, your fingers find the bedsheets, clutching them tightly as you reach your peak, clamping around him.

“Fuck,” he hisses, “keep clenchin’, keep goin’ ”

His thrusts begin to get sloppy, losing his pacing. The hand that was down at your core moves up and squeezes your tits, so large that he can grab both in just the one. He grinds himself deeper into you, and with one last snap of his hips, you feel it.

Logan moans, dipping his head into your cleavage as he releases himself into you fully. Then, he collapses onto you, dropping his whole body weight onto yours. 

If he’s too heavy for you, you don’t say anything—too caught up in the moment to care. His forehead rests on your sternum, breathing slowing as he catches his breath. For a few beats, neither of you speak, but he starts to press sweet, gentle kisses in the valley between your breasts. 

After a minute, he shifts, lifting his weight off you and sitting up slightly, looking down at you. His hand brushes over your cheek, wiping away some stray strands of hair that have fallen across your face. He gets up from the bed, padding quietly into the bathroom. 

You hear the sound of water running, and moments later, he returns with a damp towel in hand. There’s no hesitation in his movements as he gently begins to clean you up. “Doing alright?” he asks, wiping away the sweat and evidence of your time together.

“Yeah,” you reply softly, feeling a smile tug at the corners of your lips. “I’m good.”

He doesn’t say much as he finishes, tossing the towel aside before climbing back into bed. This time, he pulls you into his arms. 

His chin rests lightly on the top of your head, and then he says, “I’m proud of you.” The words are filled will sincerity. “And... I’m happy you’re stayin’ with us.”

You turn your head, looking up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Well, you showed me you can actually fight without destroying everything in your path,” you tease, raising an eyebrow as you run your hand lightly down his arm. “Keep that up, and I might just stick around forever.”

Logan grins, the kind that makes his eyes crinkle at the edges, just how you like it. “That right?” he murmurs lowly.

He leans in close, pressing a quick kiss to your temple, before adding in a hushed, almost playful tone, “Well, then maybe you’ll be mine forever too.”

----

A/N: feedback is greatly appreciated!

[jkslipppiercing]

Never Been A Friend | Part 1 | Jeon Jk

♧ synopsis: Sneaky glances across the room weighed with a dozen different meanings left to be unsaid; confusion, desire, lust. He was never a friend, was he?

♧ pairing: brother's bsf!jk, bratty!reader.

♧ warnings: y/n is too drunk to form a sentence, jungkook loves cursing, jungkook is jealous out of his mind, kinda enemies but not really, jungkook calls y/n a brat that he cant stand, someone calls y/n a slut, and that's all i can remember 😙

♧ WC: 1.6K

♧ a/n: hello loves! wrote this in one sitting and it's barely edited, but the intention is there lmao i love you all so much please enjoy! dont hesitate to tell me what you think <3 im like the no.1 supporter for constructive criticism lol okay thank you byeeeee

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JK's POV

She whines,

Throws tantrums,

Acts like a goddamn brat for the sake of being annoying,

And I still want her lips around my cock.

Why?

That goes beyond the fucking level of my emotional understanding.

I want her wrapped around my finger. I want her to get on her fucking knees and apologize for all the turbulent feelings she makes me suffer by.

She ruined my night.

I was fucking.

Blowing a girl's back just to lay off some steam. Get the stress of the college life off my shoulders.

But then, she just had to cock-block me.

My best friend’s sister.

Speaking of the twat, he dared to interrupt my one night stand for the sake of his bratty sister.

Usually, I love brats.

My type.

They make sex enjoyable. All the more pleasurable when they try to resist.

Keyword: try.

Because I know for a damn straight fact when a girl wants to be disciplined.

Fucked right and put in her place.

Reminds me of her. Y/L/N Y/N.

Except for one thing, though- she makes my fucking insides churn in all uncomfortable ways.

She doesn’t have a bratty attitude, the bitch has a bratty personality.

Yes, she is indeed a bitch. I can't stand a girl who's always annoying just because she feels like it. She'd never had a valid reason to hate me, and neither did I.

When I first met her, I mean.

She was laughing with her brother having breakfast one time when I came out of my room for painkillers and a glass of water.

Her brother and I were both freshmen in need of a dorm, and we agreed on splitting the rent once in a frat party.

Yes... we were both strangers to each other, but we clicked.

Met through mutuals, and our vibes matched. After living with each other for over six months now, we've grown pretty close.

He's cool, agreed on basic rules like who does the laundry or dishes, helped with assignments, and was always there when needed.

He's a friend. A close one.

A tolerable one.

That can't be said about a certain someone, though.

She scowled at me that day and later told me she didn't like my vibe when I confronted her about it.

Bullshit.

And yet, she's the reason I left a naked girl in my bed and came to this godforsaken club in the first place.

Her brother is here, too, which is why he called me to come pick her up. Said something about her being drunk, and since he had taken a shot or two as well, he couldn't take her home himself.

Or he just didn't want to, because he was also getting laid tonight.

That's proven to be right when I see him making out with a girl near the bathrooms.

His hands grope her all over as she arches into him, which is enough to make me look away.

Sly motherfucker.

Casting my vision toward the main dance floor, I scan the crowd for a short brunette with soft features.

Annoyingly soft features.

So soft that I want to corrupt her. Tear the bratty exterior and dig through the filthy dark side on the inside.

But those features aren't the only things that infuriate the hell out of me.

It's her innocence.

How can a brat be innocent, you may ask?

When my gaze lands on her, my jaw tenses in annoyance.

She sways her hips sensually, eyes closed and mouth open as she slides her hands down her body to a seductive beat following her movements.

I follow the action, eyes unable to tear away from her figure.

Her fingers skim over her neck down to her breasts and then further, the lightness she seems to be handling her body with attending to a grace she always breathed by.

Fuck, I hate this woman.

Hate everything about her.

How she moves.

How she walks.

How she fucking talks.

Runs her mouth like a brat who needs to be handled.

No- not like- is.

She is a brat.

A brat who's oblivious to all the eyes she's attracting.

Including mine.

Fuck.

Her dancing resumes as her eyes stay closed, feeling every beat.

She's enjoying herself.

Not for long.

I school my expression- which had turned into a scowl the moment I set my eyes on her- and begin my stride towards her.

I spot a man doing the same, but she's absolutely mind-numb as she continues to dance with her damn eyes closed.

I was irritated, but now I'm literally fed up.

He's a couple inches shorter than me, wearing a white tee and skinny ripped jeans.

Not to mention, his hair is slicked back by a disgusting amount of hair gel.

Ew.

He approaches Y/N with predatory eyes and a shit eating grin, his gaze set straight on her perky ass.

Which is just barely covered by the tight little dress she's wearing, inching higher and higher up her thighs as we speak.

My steps quicken when I see him reach out, apparently intending to slap her ass.

My blood boils.

White noise drowns out all available access to the outside world as I break out into a jog and reach her just in time.

My hand swiftly slides onto her tiny waist, and I glare at the man whose shit-eating grin is now gone, replaced with confusion.

Y/N's eyes stay closed as she giggles, and it's now I notice how drunk she is.

Bright crimson tints her cheeks and her breath smells of strong tequila, obviously from having taken too many shots.

Isn't she here with friends?

How could they leave her alone like this?

Her brother's here. Her brother is here.

My breath turns heavy, my heartbeat quickening. I have to stop myself from punching the douchebag in front of me into fucking oblivion because I don't know if i'll ever stop once I start.

Fuck.

I try to focus on anything besides her frame that's barely hanging onto me, all the exhaustion from her dancing catching up to her as she fights to keep her eyes open.

Why the fuck is she here all alone? Why did they- whoever she's here with, except her brother- leave her here like this?

Like she's not even aware of where she is.

Like she's not sober enough to be responsible.

Like she's not fucking strong enough to defend herself if anything happened to her.

I might punch a wall.

My grip tightens around her waist, which makes her drowsily lift her head to stare up at me.

She's still shorter than me with heels on, enough to put her neck in an uncomfortable position whenever she looks up at me.

It's adorable.

But that's none of my concerns as the slimy fuck keeps undressing her with his eyes. Makes me want to claw them out with my bare hands.

Repress.

"Wha..." She starts, growing more and more confused as she tries to wrap her head around where the hell she is. "Jungkook? What are you..."

She trails off into a mindfuck, allowing me to set my full focus on the man still staring between us with wariness.

My gaze hasn't worn off him since I saw him fucking reach for her ass, which makes me want to bash his head against the wall.

My breathing turns heavy again.

Repress.

"Off-limits." I bite out with enough to control to shock myself. I'm even more surprised that this motherfucker is still breathing.

His eyes thin into slits as he eyes me suspiciously. "I haven't seen you here the last couple of hours. Thought her sexy ass came alone." His eyes skim over her body, gaze lingering longer than necessary on her breasts.

Guess someone's leaving with no limbs tonight.

"You thought wrong." It takes almost all the last bits of my control to reply with that before I start turning around to leave, Y/N almost falling asleep on my arm.

She clutches the hem of my shirt with a weak grip, like a toddler would its mom.

If I couldn't get here in time, what would've happened?

I catch myself before I overthink it. If I did, I'm afraid I might commit a crime tonight. One of shameless blood and murder-

Repress.

My back is turned to him when I hear a low whistle, which makes me pause, angry enough for my limbs to shake with adrenaline.

"You know, It's often rare for a slut with such a sweet ass to be out here all alone wearing that. Almost like she's begging for a cock-"

The words are barely out of his mouth before my fist connects with his face. The force of my blow got him on the floor, nose fucked and bleeding. Might be broken.

Good. Bare minimum.

I almost straddle him and punch him to his fucking fortunate death.

Almost.

But I have to get Y/N home.

I can't stand this anymore.

I can't stand her anymore.

Coming here alone? Dressed like that?

I mean yes, she did come here with her idiot brother who thinks with his dick, but he's nowhere to be found.

How can someone be so nonchalant to just leave his sister here all alone?

I'm so goddamn confused.

And infuriated.

And...angry.

Fucking fuck.

I need to get her the fuck out of here before i lose my fucking mind.

Fuck me.

The punch I just delivered did little to satiate my thirst for this slimy fucker's blood.

But again, Y/N's more important.

I turn, my panic spiking so high it reaches levels it had never before when I find Y/N out of my sight.

My breathing starts to go abnormal for the nth time this night.

I might develop heart problems.

A sigh leaves my mouth when I spot her by the bars, trying to convince the bartender to give her another shot. Relief floods my system, and my breaths regulate.

I send a quick text the girl- who i already forgot the name of- and tell her to head home. She sends a crying emoji back but agrees nonetheless, telling me to call her back when everything is sorted out on my end.

I have other things to care for.

Or I guess, in this case, a certain person to tend to.

God, It's gonna be a long night.

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[smartkookiee]

Wounds We Never Show // Series Page

Jeon Jungkook Series

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

❥pairing: Jungkook x reader

❥genre/rating: 18 + explicit content, enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers, these two really do hate each other

❥description: You and Jungkook have always been at each other's throats, bound by a mutual disdain that runs deep. You both would rather step into traffic than be alone together. But when a chance encounter at a wedding leads to an unexpected and forbidden arrangement, the lines between enemies and something more begin to blur.

As your fiery clashes give way to stolen moments and fragile truces, both of you are forced to confront the pain and secrets that have kept you apart for so long. When the past and present collide, you and Jungkook must decide whether the scars you both hide are worth revealing—and if your fractured bond can ever be whole again.

❥warnings: SMUT, swearing, drinking, smoking, angst, slooooowwwww burrrrrnnnnnnnnnn, mentions of cheating (not the main pair), minor character death (none of the boys), eventual happy ending, medical things

❥disclaimer: Fic is cross posted to ao3, every chapter I will give associated warnings and tags that apply.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・.・。.・゜✭・.・✫

Prologue // Ch.1 // Ch.2 // Ch.3 // Ch.4 // Ch.5 // Ch.6 // Ch.7 // Ch.8 // Ch.9 // Ch.10 // Ch.11 // Ch.12 // ... More to Come

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

[excalibur-gone-missing]

Paring: seungcheol x fem!reader

Requested: no

Release date: 24-04-24

Genre: mafia au, reverse of getting kidnaped by the mafia boss, fluff, e2l, crack, assistant au

Warning(s): mention of abduction, guns?, cheol is a menace, brief mentions of drugs (do tell me if i missed anything)

summary: It was not supposed to be like this, it was a meticulous plan perfectly curated by you, Jun and Seokmin. You were supposed to go get the man who was the future heir of the Kim Corps named Mingyu, you ever had a pic of his. Most importantly it was definitely not supposed to be the man who now sits in your basement claiming that he is the leader of the mafia organisation you three work for.

Word count: 5.8k

Other works

Beta reader(s): @wonuwrites-main and @anonmonty (sweet sweet angles helped me with proof reading, or else im fucking incompetent)

disclaimer: this is not the exact representation of the subjects in real life. I just use them for my inspiration.

a/n: I request each and every one of you to comment on this fic don't be a silent reader it helps me as an author to understand my readers and i would love to communicate with all of you. Constructive criticism is always welcomed by me so do talk about this fic or send me an ask.

[permanent taglist] [only for those interested, don’t fill the form otherwise]

It is a beautiful day, and like they always say: beautiful things happen on beautiful days, and you were damn ready for the said beautiful thing to happen!

The plan is simple—you and Jun have gone over it at least fifty times, and Seokmin has been standing there listening to you both intently throughout the whole ordeal. 

“So, let’s go over it once again,” you say, pointing at the white board with the picture of a man, Mingyu to be exact, the heir to the Kim Corp. and your target. 

“He leaves his office to have coffee every afternoon exactly at 3pm at the nearest café named ‘Carvery’, am I right?” Jun and Seokmin nod with a concentrated look on their faces. 

“Next he goes to the park, sits there for fifteen minutes, on most days, and then takes the path that leads them straight back to the building, correct?” The two men again nod, and then Jun takes over the talking. 

“More often than not, he hates company during his afternoon runs, so the best chance we have of abducting the man is when he is between the café and the park. This will give us at least a twenty-minute head start before the police and his family start looking for him.” 

Now you and Seokmin nod at the man, and Seokmin takes the podium to present the next part. 

“Jun and I will be on the streets while y/n waits in the car, and from the background check we ran last month, we know the man is well trained in martial arts, so we will try and attack him with the anesthetic as soon as possible.” 

“And after the guy is unconscious, we will flee with his ass~,” adds Jun. 

“Sounds like a solid plan,” you laugh as you high five the two men. 

Indeed, it was a solid plan. You three had considered every possibility and chosen this day to execute your plan. It’s perfect and thorough, so what can go wrong? 

-- 

A lot apparently. 

You reached the destination ten minutes early to give Seokmin and Jun ample amount of time to prepare for the attack. 

As you parked your car near the pavement where the abduction would take place, you see a man walk past the car wearing a beige trench coat with some sort of concoction from the coffee shop. 

Now if you were a seasoned abductor, you would have known not to mess with the person as the timing was not right. But that was not the case, and seeing a person who vaguely matched the physical descriptions of the man you were actually supposed to abduct gave you enough reason to jump the gun and take this man hostage. 

Before you could process anything, Seokmin jumped on the guy, trying to tackle him while Jun tried to find a way to inject the drug into his system. After another minute of struggle, taking at least five punches in their abdomen and faces, both the men were successful in sedating the man.  

They hurriedly carried him to the car and you three sped off to the base to ask his family for ransom. 

-- 

You have been back at the base for three hours now. As you look at the unconscious man tied to the chair in front, you realize the grave mistake you made by not seeing his face the minute you were actually kidnapping him. 

“I mean if you look at his eyes, they look very similar to the real target, you know. Maybe he ate too much last night and is a bit swollen now,” Jun says in a wise tone. Now if you were stupid like Seokmin, you would have accepted this analogy of his just like the hundred others he had spewed in the past two hours, but you are not. So, you hit the guy’s head while calmly saying. 

“Will you keep quiet for a minute? You know as well as I that this is the wrong man. We don’t even know who he actually is. So, we wait for him to gain consciousness and then interrogate him.”  

You have figured that screaming and crying will get you nowhere. All it will do is trigger Seokmin’s panic attack, and you do not think he can manage another one after the one hour long one he just resurfaced from.  

“Our best bet is that we abducted a pretty important dude, or else we know the boss will have our meat served to his dogs for their nightly feasts,” you continued. 

“I can see he is wearing pretty costly brands all over. My guts say he is rich,” Seokmin pipes up. 

“Seok, your gut told you to scream for the past hour. I don’t trust it a lot now,” you complain. 

“I think it’s your fault, too. You should have stopped us from abducting the guy instead of just staring from the car, you know,” Jun says. 

Now, you will consider yourself to be a level-headed person, but one thing that gets to you more than anything else is a false accusation. On top of that, the bitch has the gal to accuse you of being careless when they were the ones showing literally no care about their work, owing to the fact you were not even supposed to abduct the untouchable Kim Mingyu in the first place. The leader of your clan, although you three had never seen him, mostly operated through Jeonghan, his right-hand man. The guy you agreed to kidnap was apparently remarkably close to your boss. But when faced with the tough choice of loyalty towards one gang and the lump sum of three million, you three had to face the situation and betray your gang. You know you should not, but the small jobs with the gang were not enough to even pay your rent!  

So, who does Jun think he is to shift the blame towards you when you have done nothing but try to make a secure living for all three of you. Therefore, you do the thing that your sane brain advises you to. 

Go off at Jun. 

“So, if I fail to babysit two grown men while on an extremely important mission that included them, the blame is shifted towards me?!” 

“You were both supposed to wait for my instructions before confronting the poor bloke. Now, if things go wrong, it will be your faults, and I will be dragged into it because I was the main brain behind the planning.”  

“Guys, I think we should focus on the guy more; I think he is stirring.” 

This statement from Seokmin caught both of your attention, causing you to cease the argument immediately to take a look at the man in front of you. 

Without hesitation, you put your gun on his head and ask, “who are you, tell us about yourself.” 

The man albeit good looking with his doe eyes and plump lips, gave you three a mean stare before speaking sassily. 

“Shouldn’t you know the identity of the person you kidnap?” 

“If we knew, I don’t think I would have asked about you,” you reply. 

The man scoffs before informing you the most gut-wrenching piece of information you have ever heard. 

“I’m Choi Seungcheol leader of Choi Clan.” 

-- 

When Seungcheol met Mingyu today, he was feeling particularly drained and sought the comfort of a familiar face, longing for a brief respite from the relentless demands of his job. Mingyu, sensing his friend's exhaustion, proposed they take a detour to unwind, considering Seungcheol's grueling schedule. Gratefully accepting the suggestion, Seungcheol had embarked on what he thought would be a much-needed moment of relaxation. 

Oh, how wrong he was. 

As he leisurely sipped his coffee, enjoying a fleeting moment of calm, the tranquility was shattered by the sudden onslaught of a group of thugs. Seungcheol had braced himself for a possible mugging, but the idea of being abducted never crossed his mind. He curses himself for sending Soonyoung away earlier, now regretting not having company in this unforeseen predicament. 

To make matters worse, Seungcheol felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him. A mafia boss getting abducted! 

How humiliating.  

Now, do not get him wrong, he was, in reality, as far from incompetent as the Sahara was from water, as Seungkwan was from being calm, as Jihoon was from showing affection—you get the point. 

In fact, he had been the first in three generations to successfully reclaim the southeastern part of the city for his clan from the Yoon family, a testament to his capabilities. 

Now bound and surrounded by three hapless captors whose incompetence was glaringly evident, judging by the one who he suspects was crying prior to their conversation with him. He suspected they had targeted Mingyu, but mistakenly seized him instead. Seungcheol could not help but shake his head at their sheer incompetence. 

Now, again, he is not that scared. He knows he has a trusted pack of workers who would join heaven and earth in search of him. No, he is least bothered about himself. 

What he is actually bothered about is who planned to abduct Mingyu, because he is strictly off limits for his clan members. He knows this as much as anyone that they respect the young heir a lot, not only due to his kind nature, but also because of the relationship he has with their leader. 

So, when he informs his three kidnappers his name, he gets the weirdest of responses ever—a chorus of ‘shits’ and ‘fucks.’ Moreover, he sees all three of his kidnappers suddenly fall down at his feet and grumbling out the most nonsensical bullshit ever. The only words he vaguely captures are ‘it was supposed to be someone else’ and ‘sirs’. 

This confuses the man even more. But then he suddenly sees all three of them take their masks off, revealing two men and, dare he say, a very gorgeous woman. Now in any other situation,

Seungcheol would have laughed, but now that he is in it himself, the only reaction he can provide is a confused head nod as the woman immediately goes to untie his hands. 

-- 

“So, you are telling me that you were paid to abduct my friend who you know is off limits, but still went ahead with the idea, even though you are the members of my gang?!”  

He says as he looks at your group standing in front of him with their heads bowed down looking like kids getting scolded.  

“But sir, we barely make any money from doing the jobs assigned to us. The only way for us to pay our rent was for taking up jobs from outside, and this one paid us a huge sum. We never wanted you to be the one getting abducted instead, we swear!” you suddenly exclaim with the extreme need to explain yourself. 

Your two partners beside you do their dutiful job by nodding their heads with your rant. 

“You three fucked up really bad, didn’t you?” He says, looking a tad bit amused. 

“We are really sorry!” Seokmin chokes out, visibly scared by the whole ordeal. 

“Well, it’s time I go back, so take me back to the office.” 

Right after that statement comes out of his mouth, you three are escorting him out of the door to the car parked outside to take him back. 

-- 

“So, you are telling me these three, these newbies who literally didn’t have any good job for them to gain experience, drugged your ass and took you to god knows where, and you couldn’t even put up a good fight?!” 

Jeonghan exclaims, looking at the seated, nervous, and scared faces of the three of you from Seungcheol’s office’s glass. 

“Apparently not,” the older man sighs. 

“My friend, are you sure you are a real mafia? Because in light of the current happenings, I am starting to question your integrity a lot.” Jeonghan says as he barks out a laugh, taking immense pleasure at his friend’s humiliation. 

“Or maybe you were too caught up staring at the pretty lady to notice that you were getting kidnapped.” 

The bitch continues to make fun of the older man. 

“I just thought I was getting mugged, so I didn’t fight hard enough. Who knew I would be kidnapped instead.” Seungcheol grumbles, pouting a bit. 

“Which is even worse, because you are telling me you would have let people just mug you for no reason when you are one of the most influential people underground!” Jeonghan said while looking pretty concerned about the statement his superior just spewed, and he does indeed have a hard time accepting it. 

“Ahh! Just get over with it and let me go. Plus make sure the three of them face the appropriate consequences for not only abducting me, but also trying to abduct my friend,” Seungcheol barks out while walking out, thoroughly humiliated, and annoyed that his junior was having fun at his expense. 

So Jeonghan does the very thing at which he is extremely good. 

Create chaos. 

 Right after his superior leaves, he strides towards the group and says, “so because the boss has instructed me to do something with you three which will stop you guys from going off the hook, I’m going to assign you some jobs in the organization because I can.” 

Now, anyone even vaguely familiar with Jeonghan would recognize the expression he wore just before chaos ensued, but contrary to popular belief, Jeonghan is actually quite amiable—at least, that is what he believes, and that is what matters, right? 

He continues, “Junhui, you will be overseeing the artillery division. Our deputy head Chan will ensure you are well informed about your job. You will meet him tomorrow. As for Seokmin,” he paused, a sly smile crossing his face, which made Seokmin visibly nervous, “You, my friend, will be our esteemed boss's driver. Lastly, y/n, you will be his assistant. You shall be meeting Chan tomorrow, too; he will explain the workings of your new role.” 

Normally, in any ordinary conversation, you would not dare ask inappropriate questions, but the circumstances were far from normal, so you proceeded with the most audacious question you could muster: “Why did Chan leave his previous post?” 

Jeonghan politely responded, “He left because the job didn’t suit him, so we shifted him to the artillery department as a deputy head.” 

Unspoken was the fact that Chan had been worn down by the boss's relentless bullying, quietly requesting a transfer for at least three years before Jeonghan finally relented. Since then, the turnover of assistants had been alarmingly high. Jeonghan desperately hoped you would stick around. Moreover, if either you or Seungcheol objected to this arrangement, he had enough leverage to ensure you both comply. Enough dirt to keep both of you in line. 

-- 

Your meeting with Chan the next day went well. He explained to you the workings, gave you tips and tricks on how to make sure all the work gets done. Overall, a 10/10 experience, except the small hiccup at the end where he cryptically said something along the lines of “Best of all fucking luck with this job because you will need it.” 

Now a small best of luck is never a bad gesture, but that statement! 

That shit was a bit too hostile, even for you. But you are fine, happy even. Anything that saves you from getting your life cut short by a mafia leader is always welcomed. 

-- 

“What are you doing here?”  

“Where is Jeonghan?” 

The first two sentences to ever leave The Choi Seungcheol’s mouth the minute he sees your face when he comes into his office that afternoon. Indeed, so delightful! 

"Sir, I've been assigned as your work assistant for the time being," you reply, your eyes downcast. It is a surreal turn of events considering just yesterday this man was tied up in your basement. After that ordeal, everything seemed to take on a different hue, almost as if you were hearing the bells of heaven. So, that reaction seems pretty appropriate to you given the circumstances. 

Now you see our oh so beloved Mr. Choi was not just an underground mob because what is the fun in that, right! He mostly did international business under the guise of his company named The ChoiTech, solely based on providing technological change using sustainable means. Pretty cleaver tactic, although overused, but still gets the job done, so who are you to judge. 

The man looking extremely shocked at your statement immediately rushed inside his office, you presume, to call Jeonghan. And sure enough, within five minutes of him disappearing from your sight, you could hear him loudly complaining to his secretary on the phone. “But Jeonghan I can’t be collaborating with her, after what she did to me yesterday!” 

The man whined and then suddenly you could hear hushed whispers, so being the curious cat you were, slowly crept near the door to hear the conversation better. 

“But man, it’s humiliating. She kidnapped me for fucks sake”, the oh so powerful man, who people assumed will one day rule the underworld, whined like a kid who has been denied to go on a playdate with their best friend. 

By this time, you were almost pressed onto the door when suddenly the sound of someone clearing their throat made you jump away from it and look about for the person who stopped you from consuming you daily dose of gossip. 

The culprit, Joshua, stood right in front of your desk with an amused look on his face. 

Now Joshua is someone you were extremely familiar with, being the man who took care of assigning roles to the lower members of the group, you have had a lot of angry conversations with him. 

“I would ask you if Seungcheol is busy, but the way you were trying so hard to eavesdrop, makes me think otherwise,” he says, making you roll your eyes. 

“Just give me a minute to tell him you are here, then you can go in.” 

The man nodded still looking thoroughly amused at how sad you looked due to missing out on whatever conversation you were listening to. 

After a minute, the man was inside, now looking even happier that he has seen his next victim to torment. 

-- 

“So Jeonghan was indeed right,” he said, looking like he was having a tough time controlling his laugh. 

“Not you, too,” the pouty man whined from behind the desk. “But really, can you tell him to not put that woman as my assistant? I get war flashbacks every time I see her face,” he continued whining. 

“I mean, I could do that, but where is the fun there, right!” Joshua, thoroughly enjoying his boss’s misery, replied. “But in all seriousness, you could just treat her like Chan. The boy is still traumatized by the amount of work you made him do,” he thoughtfully added. 

The older replies, “I liked Chan, he was nice, would do anything you ask him to!” 

“And so will she. Her life is at stake here, give her some benefit of the doubt.” 

This statement made the older think like never before. Plans of tormenting you to quit your job rushing past his brain at high speed. Suddenly everything made sense. 

“I can take my revenge! That is exactly why Jeonghan made her my assistant. Oh, my friend is such a genius!” Seungcheol said, looking a bit too enthusiastic. 

“Ok, I am sure it was done to decrease his workload, but whatever you say, man,” the younger said skeptically after seeing the diabolical look on the elder’s face. 

-- 

It has already been three weeks and suddenly you understand what Chan meant all those days back when he wished you good luck. To put it quite plainly, your boss is crazy. 

The man was a combination of workaholic and perfectionist, which resulted in him getting swamped by work and by default the same fate befalls you every day, too. For the past three weeks, you have had a challenging time at the office to even take a break to eat food. 

The men you called your enemies once, aka Jeonghan and Joshua, are the ones now saving you from dying out of malnutrition. You are eternally thankful to them. But more than anything now, you regret trying to kidnap Kim Mingyu—the name makes you want to cry in a corner and throw rocks at people, if you had any time to do so. 

“Sir, you scheduled two appointments at the same time: the new project for the Orin Community Park and another one with Mr. Xu for the narcotic deal.” 

You informed the man who had his face shoved in some papers, reading something diligently.  

“Why did you not stop me from doing so then, you were right beside me when I was going through the plan.” 

Now, it is your job to curate the perfect schedule for the man to follow, but Seungcheol being the guy born only to cause you inconvenience made his schedule for the week himself this time. 

Why you might ask?

Purely because the man is a chronic insomniac and whenever he has trouble sleeping, instead of taking measures to have a peaceful sleep, he tries his hands in different works because he can, and this time his victim was the poor, poor schedule of his. 

“Because you had already sent them both emails, sir,” you say, thoroughly exasperated. 

“Ok maybe I did, so now I obviously can’t cancel on both so you figure out something so that I can attend both the meetings, because I ain’t missing any.” 

The man just turns his chair around and keeps reading whatever he was reading in the first place.

With an extremely calm voice, you say, “sir I need you to stop trying to do something to pass time when you can’t sleep. I need you to actually go to a doctor.”  “Can’t,” comes his response, making you sigh more. 

Sometimes it feels like you are working as a babysitter to a grown man instead of an assistant to a CEO. 

Seeing the conversation would be going nowhere if you keep talking to him, you go out and do the second-best thing in your books. 

Call Chan. 

“Lemme guess, the boss is giving you a hard time!” The first sentence he says right after picking up the phone. 

Sighing, you tell him all of Seungcheol’s various administrative behaviors throughout this week. When you got to the part where he had so bravely and meticulously made the perfect schedule, Chan started laughing. The gall of that boy! 

“Wait, he still does that!” He exclaimed between his laughs, making you feel even more annoyed. 

After calming down he says, “just make Jeonghan or Jihoon go for the community meeting and let him manage the narc. I know you are thankful, so do not mention it, but maybe buy me a meal when you are free, as a repayment.” 

Chuckling at the younger boy, you agreed to get him whatever he asks for purely because he is a literal angel, and he deserves the world. Ok, maybe it is a bit too dramatic, but the boy was indeed your angel in disguise. 

Planning on following through with the advice Chan gave you, you called both Jeonghan and Jihoon simultaneously. As Jeonghan was busy, Jihoon accepted the work of going to the community welfare meeting instead of Seungcheol. 

After that, the whole day was smooth sailing. But the main root of all your problems was happy, maybe not healthy, but the look of pure happiness and the twinkling eyes when he passed by your desk was hard to miss.  

This man was slowly but surely making sure to strip you of your patience bit by bit. 

--  

The last straw to eradicating your already depleting patience came when Seungcheol in all his glory, during one of his nightly ‘Imma take away other’s jobs because sleep refuses to befriend me’ escapades, deleted all your assistant notes for the server by mistake. 

You still are baffled as to how he did that. Truth be told so is he. He was scrolling away on his phone when he saw this reel about ‘how to increase your Wi-Fi speed.’ Extremely intrigued by it, he had actually tried to increase the internet speed in his house, and he swears on every god on planet earth it worked. So, he tried doing so with the one in his office, which weirdly enough resulted in removal of all the information that you had stored in your laptop. 

Now if this would have happened to his computer, too, you would not have gotten as angry as you were, but the motherfucker’s computer was all well and good and if you actually pay attention, it seems that his internet speed has increased, too! 

How this man become a CEO is beyond you. What is not so beyond is your pure hatred for him and his technologically challenged ass. 

So that night when Seungcheol, stayed back as usual to do work, you took your chances, entered his office, and slammed a ball of yarn and two knitting needles on his table while scaring the life out of the, not so, poor man. 

“Start knitting!” you calmly said. 

“But I don’t know how to though!” he replies, thoroughly confused. 

“Then learn, Seungcheol! I don’t care what you want to do, I need you to learn and pick up a hobby, start gaming, try knitting anything! Just make sure you are not trying to turn the office upside down.” 

Anyone who knows Seungcheol also knows never to question his nightly routines, but more than that, they also know the pride of the man is too high to ever accept his mistake. So, when you commit the grave crime of pointing out his mishap with the Wi-Fi router that morning, you hit the nail on the head and pissed him to the fucking moon. 

“So, you think I’m bad at what I do?!” 

“No, I think you are technically inept. And you should leave it to people who are good at it.” 

This pisses off Seungcheol more than anything, but you don’t let him intervene as you keep speaking. 

“On top of that you are constantly making changes in your schedule without informing me. You’re your assistant. Maybe have you ever considered the fact that your schedule was made so that your day is smooth sailing, and no two activities overlap!” 

“Just because you refuse to go to a doctor and try and find a way to manage your stress does not mean you make the workplace hell for us.” 

By the end of your rant, you were fuming and Seungcheol was stunned. 

Clearing his throat, he says awkwardly, “I’m sorry you feel so, I will try and fix my schedule.” 

Now, although this statement made you feel better, it also confused you, as you were fully prepared to have a full-blown fight with the man. Him backing down was never an option. But now that it has happened, you muttered a small, “I shall be going then”, to which your boss meekly nodded. 

After you were outside, you ended up feeling better due to unloading all your anger on the man. It was refreshing. Now you just needed to see what changes tomorrow will bring for Seungcheol. 

-- 

It had been two months since you had the argument with Seungcheol, more like your single woman shouting spree. But things have been better. He has tried to keep his need for new experiences down and this has made your life exponentially easier.  

Did you now have time to eat. Absolutely not! 

But the office was not a nightmare anymore.  

If someone would have told you five months ago that this is what your future held for you, you would have straight up laughed at their face and told them to get themselves checked. But life has weird ways of throwing you in situations you don’t expect yourself to be in, and you have no other ways of getting out but learn to go with the flow. 

You sometimes talk to Jun and Seokmin, and you have realized you got the hardest of all the jobs.

You asked Jeonghan about it once and his answer was, “because I can and its fun!” 

So here you are sitting on the couch with Seokmin while enjoying your sandwich when you see Seungcheol come outside carrying a bag, Jeonghan trailing behind him sporting this devilish look on his face. 

The big man walks towards you and hands you the bag. Opening it you notice a green scarf sitting at the bottom. 

“Seungcheol’s first knitting creation, and he says thank you for forcing him to learn knitting. It helps him sleep now.” Jeonghan says while pointing at the bag even before the older man could open his mouth. 

Seokmin tries to make himself as invisible as possible while looking extremely interested in the whole situation unfolding in front of him. 

Seungcheol waves his hands at Jeonghan trying to hush him down and whines, “let me speak!” 

“I made this cause you told me it would help me sleep! I didn’t think it could actually help me, but it looks like it did, so I’m extremely thankful for your suggestion.”

“Good job!” Jeonghan says, patting Seungcheol’s head like he was a child, making you laugh a bit. 

“Thank you for listening to me, sir!” 

“Oh, no, call him by his name, or else he will become weird with you again!” Jeonghan says, making you laugh again. Seungcheol pouts at both of you and storms back to his office, with Jeonghan at his tail making fun of him yet again. 

After that, you kept the bag in your desk and went to bid your friend goodbye. 

“He looked like he was confessing to his crush, you know”, Seokmin muses. 

“Maybe he has a crush on you!” He exclaimed after pausing for a moment. 

“I don’t, he is a weird person,” you had replied thoughtfully. 

Realizing he has been chatting with you for a long time, Seokmin quickly rushes outside while loudly screaming a ‘goodbye’ for the whole building to hear. 

When you came back to your desk, Jeonghan was waiting for you there. The man just looked at you with a smirk and said, “see you later y/n, and make sure to wear the scarf!” 

Jeonghan is a weird person. You more often than not don’t listen to what he tells you to do. He forces you to do them anyways. 

“Seriously, lady, do wear the scarf. Plus, it’s cold outside—you won’t get a heatstroke if you do so.” 

With that he was outside of the office, too. Slowly work caught up with you and you forgot about the scarf altogether. 

-- 

That evening, as you were finishing up at work and preparing to leave, you grabbed the scarf that had been gifted to you and wrapped it around your neck before stepping out of the office. 

Unbeknownst to you, the man who had given you the scarf felt a rush of joy upon seeing you wear it. Concealing his flushed cheeks, he quietly followed you out and spontaneously invited you to join him for dinner, explaining that he had given Seokmin the night off and now was in extreme need of a dinner companion, as Seokmin would fill in that position on most nights. It was unusual for him to make such a request, but you were both hungry and couldn't resist the offer of a free meal, even if it was from someone as harmless as him. 

"So, what do you think?" Seungcheol asked as the two of you sat at the ramen shop waiting for your orders. 

"About what?" You replied, genuinely puzzled by his question. 

"Didn't you read the letter?" He asked, his face turning even redder as he mentioned it. 

"What letter?" You responded, glancing around until Seungcheol nodded towards the bag in which he gave you the scarf, looking inside you noticed an envelope that matched the interior perfectly sitting at the bottom. 

"Oh! I can read it now," you exclaimed. 

"Don't worry about it right now," he interjected as the waiter arrived with your bowls of ramen. 

Despite his reluctance to discuss the letter further, your curiosity only grew stronger after he dropped you off at your doorstep. Once inside your home, you wasted no time in retrieving the letter from your bag. Its contents filled you with excitement like never before. 

The following day at the office, you placed another letter on Seungcheol's desk before getting on with your usual tasks, eager to see his reaction. 

-- 

"So, let me get this straight—you've been dating our boss for the past month?" Exclaimed Jun, eyes wide with disbelief. 

"Why didn't you tell us sooner? How did this even happen?!" Chimed in Seokmin, equally stunned by the news. 

As soon as you revealed your relationship with Seungcheol, you found yourself bombarded with a flurry of questions from your friends. It was amusing to witness their sheer astonishment, and yet, deep down, it felt incredibly rewarding to share this surprising news with them.

What started as a casual hangout quickly transformed into a lively interrogation session, with your friends firing off all sorts of curious inquiries. Most pressing among them was the question: 

“How and when did all of this happen?!” 

You couldn't blame them for their curiosity. It seemed like just yesterday that you had kidnapped Seungcheol off the street instead of his friend Mingyu, which resulted in Jeonghan gaining the perfect opportunity to bully you both half to death. And let's not forget the hell and back experience you were subjected to from Seungcheol himself, the man who had once resorted to extreme tactics to get you to quit as he was reminded of the oh so humiliating experience he went through every time he saw your face. But somehow, it all worked out in the end, and you couldn't be happier about how it turned out. 

Near the end of your gathering, you couldn't resist the urge to pull out your phone and reveal the most treasured image in your gallery: a photograph capturing two pieces of paper resting on a desk. One paper bore a lengthy paragraph, while the other simply displayed a single, bold sentence: 

"Take me out on a proper date first!" 

The photo encapsulated perfectly how you both worked so well with each other. It was a sweet reminder of how unexpectedly love can bloom in the most unconventional of circumstances. 

As your friends marveled at the photo, you couldn't help but reflect on how far you and Seungcheol had come in such a short time. Despite the initial hurdles and challenges you faced with the man, you were grateful for the bond you now shared—a relationship built on laughter, friendship, and, of course, a bit of unexpected romance. 

The end hope you like it !!

[eleni-cherie]

just wanted to say i started working on the jungkook x skylar one-shot i mentioned at the end of "a thief's origin" (after being on vacation for 2 weeks) and... pray for me.

i have to finish this one + the jin x yongsun one before november 1st bc that's when i start a new apprenticeship (oophhh going back to school + work, pray for me again) and the odds are 50-50 that i'll make it haha

and i still also have to edit jimin's "among thieves" and add more words/details there..

yeah, i don't see myself finish it all before the new year tbh ahahahah pls give me motivation 🥺

[cirilee]

[ljnsdump]

What a Plot Twist You Were (Jisung x F!reader)

Jisung x F!reader

You can't force chemistry to exist where it doesn't, the same way you can't deny it when it does.

Genre: M/F, slight enemies to lovers, fluff, classmates, school setting no mature scenes because im not ready to imagine jisung in those scenes

Warnings: just a lot of bickering and probably cursing here and there, y/n is a spoiled brat

Word Count: 3,999

Hello! A Jisung oneshot because the man finally has an IG acc haha. As always, dont hesitate to give me feedbacks! Enjoy reading!

Read at your own risk.

------

"Y/N, don't make me let you pull out from that modelling." Her mom warns her sternly. "This is your final semester in high school. You'll be graduating soon and you will not be able to do that if you keep this up."

She rolls her eyes, knowing that her teacher is snitching on her again. As they should though. "Ma, it's fine. My grades are enough for me to be accepted in any university."

"No it's not!" She argues and puts the utensils down on the table that caused a loud sound. Y/N's dad holds her as if to calm her down. "Universities would prioritize those with higher grades and has better knowledge on the courses they want to take than you do."

"Whatever, you'll still get them to accept me anyway."

And that's the time both parents realized that they raised a spoiled brat.

It's monday and everybody is in their first class of the day.

"Okay class, as you may know this is your final semester. We will make sure that no one gets left behind so we came up with a way. We will do the buddy system. You guys will be paired up to your buddy and you will be responsible for each other for the rest of the semester. If one doesn't pass, the other will be questioned, so help each other out. If you have topics that are hard for you both, try to come up with ways so you both will be able to understand it. You can always come to me, other teachers and even students."

They all agreed and chose their buddy. Then Y/N and Jisung come into the room at the same time but from different doors. Y/N enters the front door with her ipad and coffee while Jisung comes in from the back with just his pen and a notebook.

Their teacher notices them both. "Oh good. You're both here." She says and looks at them back and forth. "You will be each other's buddy. You will be paired up for all school work for the entire semester. You will be responsible for each other's grades."

"What?" Y/N's eyebrows furrow. She heard what her teacher said perfectly but she just couldn't accept it. "He's not that smart! You're pairing me with someone who can't help me."

"You’re late, Miss Y/L/N. Both of you are. Everyone already chose who they wanted to be their pair. It's just the two of you remaining." She answers with stern voice. "And we tried pairing you up with Yunjin before." Pertaining to their top student in class. "But you ended up just letting her do everything."

Y/N looks at Jisung. "You're not saying anything about this?"

He just shrugs and goes to his seat. Y/N groans and does the same.

"Alright. Listen up. First task."

Jisung was the one who stood up first when class ended. He was about to exit the room when Y/N called him. "Park Jisung!"

He turns with an annoyed look on his face. "What?"

She walks to him. "Why did you not say anything earlier when she paired us? You know well both fail."

"I'm not that bad." He replies that she scoffs.

"Fine! Then what should we do about that stupid reporting?"

"I have to go. Just chat with me about your ideas and whatever." He starts to walk away.

And she follows his strides. "I don't have your number!"

"WhatsApp, Messenger, IG, Twitter." He lists down. "It's 2023."

Y/N scoffs in disbelief.

After class, she meets with her best friend who was with her boyfriend at a cafe nearby. They're both in 12th grade, Ningning is in a different class though.

"Hey, who's your pair?" Ningning, as soon as she sees Y/N.

Y/N groans and rolls her eyes. "Park Jisung."

"That sloppy, rugged soccer player?"

She nods. "Yup." Popping end of the word. "Hey, Jun." Y/N casually greets Ningning’s boyfriend who's playing on his phone.

"Oh, sup Y/N." And offers to bump fists.

She accepts with her fist as well. "Nothing much."

"Okay, let's order first." They all sit. "Love, what do you want?"

"A reuben would do, love." He replies.

They spent the remainder of the day talking about their lives and spilling teas.

When she got home, she decided to try out reading about the topic of their report but just minutes later, she plopped down on her bed because she got bored.

Y/N takes out her phone and decides to look for Jisung's account on messenger.

To: Park Jisung

Hey, what are we gonna do about this?

And she finished having dinner and even went to prepare for bed, he still hasn't replied yet.

To: Park Jisung

Park Jisung!

Still no reply. She runs her fingers over her hair in frustration. Jisung has two close friends, she remembered. Y/N looks up the name Zhong Chenle and the Chinese guy's photo pops up.

To: Zhong Chenle

Hey, just wondering if you're with Jisung. Please tell him to check his phone, we have to work on our project.

Just minutes later, a notification pops up saying she has a new message from Jisung.

From: Park Jisung

What?

Oh my god, he's unbearable, she thought.

To: Park Jisung

The project.

From: Park Jisung

Send me your thoughts and ideas about it.

To: Park Jisung

I have no thoughts nor any idea about it.

From: Park Jisung

Then what are we supposed to do?

To: Park Jisung

Idk, let's just meet up tomorrow after class to figure this out.

"Bro, what the hell." Jisung grunts as he puts his phone down and picks up the xbox controller. "She wants me to meet up with her after class. Why did we get paired up, we have no idea about these."

Jisung is currently in Sungchan's place with Chenle. They're playing video games like how they do every single day and not getting tired of it. "Finally you can get some." Chenle teases him.

"I heard she's double-jointed." Jisung's eyebrows furrow at Sungchan's joke, and looks at him with disgust on his face. While Sungchan and Chenle high five.

Jisung walked to Y/N's seat when their class ended. He watched her gather her things in a hurry and was surprised to see him.

"What?" She asks, forgetting that they planned to meet for their project today.

His eyebrows furrow, confused as well. "I thought we'll meet after class?"

"Oh yeah. About that, meet's cancelled. I have to go. Let's just pay someone to do that report." Then she takes off before he can say anything. Better for him though, he'll have the whole time to play his beloved games.

Y/N meets with her handler in a cafe after driving almost half an hour from the university.

"I'm here." She announces and gives a quick friendly hug from behind to her handler Joy. "Let's go?"

Joy turns to her as she stands up. "Okay, good. Let's go. Our client is very chic and very boss lady vibes, Y/N. She's picky and she definitely knows what she wants."

"That's cool. You know I'm here to impress."

"I do." Joy smiles as they walk fast towards the building across the cafe. "I've sent your file to them already. You've looked over the products that you'll be modelling for?"

"Yes, the jewelleries. I actually even own a couple of pieces from their brand. They're nice."

When they arrive, a tall lady in formal attire welcomes them.

"Hi, I'm Seulgi, Mrs. Laviste's assistant. She's waiting for you in her office."

The local company rents both the 3rd and 4th floors of the building for their offices and manufacturing facilities.

They arrive at the office, the woman stands up upon seeing them with a big smile to greet. "Welcome to Ligaya! I'm Flora Laviste, you can call me Mrs. Laviste." Offering her hand which Joy gladly took.

"This is my talent." Joy gestures to Y/N. "Y/N."

Y/N smiles and shakes hands with her as well. "Y/N Y/L/N."

"From what I heard, you're the youngest of Mr. And Mrs. Timothy Y/L/N, is that right?"

"Yes." She smiles. "Yes, I am."

They discuss for a few minutes in Flora's office then go to their in-house studio to shoot a few shots as a demo just for them to see how their products would look on her.

"We reviewed everything and we've decided to take you guys on your offer. She's very good." Nodding her head, applauding Y/N's skills. "We'll do the shoot on Saturday morning."

Friday came and it's time for them to present their report. Y/N came early to school to get the report she paid a college student for.

Holding the flashdrive in her hand, she thanks Yeri. "Thanks a lot Yeri! I really just can't do this on my own."

Yeri smiles. "No worries, Y/N. It was easier for me since we've been over the topic a couple of times already. I sent the file to you too through email."

Y/N sat beside Jisung when she arrived in their classroom. She specifically instructed him to come in early. "We just read what's on the presentation." She tells him.

His eyes shift, obviously in doubt. "Sure?"

"Yeah."

"Park and Y/N, you're up." Their teacher announces after the pair prior to them were done with theirs.

They set up on the computer and in no time, the first page of the slide flashes on the white board through the projector. 

"Our topic, the three main classes of carbohydrates." Y/N starts. She then continues to casually read the passages on the PowerPoint presentation which raises a brow of their teacher.

She stands up from her desk and walks towards the center walkway. "Pause, Ms. Y/L/N." The teacher raises her index finger. "You can't just click continuously on those pages without discussing them."

Y/N immediately protests. "But Mrs. Lim, these are self-explanatory."

"Good, then please explain them." She crosses her arms. "And Mr. Park, don't just stand there. Help out your buddy."

The two groans silently upon hearing their teacher's statement. Then Y/N looks at Jisung. "Help me explain it."

"You said it's self-explanatory." He whispers.

"I didn't think she'd let us explain it still after I said that."

After a few minutes of waiting and just looking at the two infront murmuring at each other, Mrs. Lim figures out they got nothing. "Alright, you two. Something's making me think that you both did not make this. I'm gonna let you re-do it this weekend and when we come back on Monday, I want you both to be able to explain and discuss it properly or else this reflects on my record book. Understand?"

Y/N grunts and removes her things from the desk to go back to her seat.

"Let's meet tomorrow morning." Jisung tells her.

"Can't, I have something very important. Afternoon."

"I have something important to do in the afternoon."

Y/N throws her pen to the floor, stomping her feet like a little kid throwing tantrums. "Why did we ever agree to this?!"

Jisung stands tall in front of her with a serious look on his face. "Don't throw tantrums on me, Y/N." He warns with his deep ass voice. "I'm not one of your maids."

"I-I didn't think you were." She nervously replies, blinking and shying away from his eyes. "I was just upset."

"Let's meet tonight."

"Mine or yours?"

"Mine."

At 7pm, Y/N arrives at the convenience store near Jisung's apartment. She immediately texts him.

To: Park Jisung

I'm here.

Hey!

Dude!

Park Jisung!

It's very cold here.

I'm gonna kill you.

8 minutes later

From: Park Jisung

Just hang on.

To: Park Jisung

I've been hanging on you idiot.

3 minutes later

From: Park Jisung

I'm coming down.

He, in his black hoodie and sweatpants approaches her and she almost had a heart attack. He looks like a kidnapper on his fit, the only thing that made her realize it is him is his nose. Weird.

"You look scary." She tells him.

He shrugs. "Yeah? Well... let's go."

They start to walk, her, following him from behind.

"Walk slowly."

"This is my normal pace. Your legs are just short."

Y/N stops and crosses her arms while watching him walk away. He did not notice until he finally crossed the road. He looks back and Y/N is still on the other side, glaring at him. Jisung can't help but laugh and put his hands in the pockets of his hoodie as he waits for the lights to go red again.

From: Park Jisung

Stay there.

Although she's far, he can see clearly that she rolled her eyes after reading his text.

As soon as the red light appears, he runs to her and grabs her wrist lightly, and they cross the street.

"Dickhead." She mumbles.

The apartment is definitely Jisung's, Y/N thought upon getting in. Empty red bull cans, chips packets, everything is everywhere. Chenle and Sungchan are there too, yelling at each other as they play.

Y/N looks at Jisung, suggestively while crossing her arms again.

He sighs. "Come on, guys. You need to go." Telling his two friends.

"What?! I thought we were---" Sungchan stops when he sees Y/N and the look on her face. "Time to go."

Chenle removes the headphones from his head. "So what if she's here, it's not like she's staying long anyway. And besides, bros over hoes."

Jisung immediately smacks his head. "That's the red bull talking."

"Oh yeah, she's the first. I'll consider." Chenle adds and this time Y/N is the one glaring at him.

Once they're out, Jisung kicks things out of the way. "My room is clean." Then walk towards there. And indeed it is. Shoes all over, but not in a messy way but it's on the walls like he's collecting them. And they're not just any shoes, they're all or at least that's how Y/N sees it, Jordan 1s.

Her mouth hangs open when she sees the display. "You collect?"

"Kinda."

Just minutes later, they're set up on the floor with their gadgets on the center table.

Y/N scratches the back of her head, getting frustrated over what they're doing. "This is so stupid. Carbohydrates are carbohydrates, what the fuck are those main classes for?!" She whines.

"Come on, Y/L/N. All we gotta do is read and understand then make a report."

"I wish it's as easy as saying it."

Jisung gets his hand off his keyboard. "It seems like you hate these subjects that we're taking. Why enroll under them?"

"Because they want me to be a doctor. Like any fucking Asian parent wants their kids to be."

"I'm sorry."

"No need to be, it's not you."

They spent the night just talking about random things. She learned that Jisung prefers nights over days. He's got poop hands as what Chenle calls, meaning everything he touches just fails. He and his friends always play PUBG with Chenle's cousins from China. Random things.

But Jisung felt that Y/N is a good listener. She doesn't give her own opinions on his preferences, she finds everything he says cool, and she asks you about how you feel when you make that choice. It's like she's learning new things as they talk.

But they did not make any progress with their report.

It's almost 12 midnight. "I need to go home now." Y/N states after looking at her watch.

"Are you Cinderella or something?" He jokes.

"I have a shoot tomorrow morning. I can't look puffy." She replies. "You can come with me tomorrow morning. We'll work on this slowly."

Tomorrow came. They met at the cafè again. Y/N picked Jisung up from his place.

"Do you always bring other people aside from your own team to your gigs?"

"No. But it's fine. I can just introduce you as one of us."

They arrive and in no time, Y/N is all set. They also discusse sample shots for the campaign. Jisung just observes as he tries to work on their report.

"Your boyfriend's handsome." Mrs. Laviste says, giving her a teasing smile as they look over at him.

Y/N immediately shakes her head. "He's just my classmate. We got paired up for school work."

"He's been glancing and staring at you for the past few minutes."

"That's probably because he's doing everything and I'm here literally looking pretty."

They suit her up in a silk skin tone slip dress pointing focus on the jewelleries on her. A gold butterfly rests in between her clavicles, they take a shot of that. Her hands, her ears, they alternately put pieces of jewelries and take a few shots of it in all angles possible. Jisung couldn't help but stare. She's good. Great, actually. She gives what's needed from her.

"I just got off the phone with our male model. He won't be able to attend, he's suddenly having the flu." Says Mrs. Laviste's secretary.

Y/N lowkey raises her hand just enough to point at Jisung.

Joy tells Y/N, "You should talk to him."

Y/N nods. "Jisung-ah!" Jisung looks up at her. He sees her walking towards him. "We need a male model."

"And?"

"You'd be a great one. You're very tall, and your face is decent, you just need a little makeover."

He shakes his head. "I don't think I can. I just came here to work on our report."

"I'll help you. We have until tomorrow. Plus, the pay is good."

At the end, she was able to convince him to join the shoot. They set him in front of the mirror, Y/N helped out in picking up his fits. She laughs when she sees his eyes moving, afraid to move his body.

"You can move, idiot."

He looks at the makeup artist doing his face. "Really? I don't wanna mess up what they're doing."

"As long as you don't go crazy."

They do the shoot together first just so Jisung loosens up and then his solo shoot after. Y/N helps him a lot aside from the director.

"Jisung-ah, just a stoic face. This is a close up shot emphasizing the earring."

After several flashes, he's all done. Y/N claps her hands then everyone else follows. "Congrats on your first modeling gig!"

He grabs her hand and puts it on his chest. "Feel that? I'm so nervous."

Of course, she was taken aback, she didn't feel shit, just her own heart pounding when her hand landed on his hard chest. "T-That's normal." Then she walks away, face flushing, cleaning up her things.

"What's the plan?" He asks when they're finally out of the building.

"We're gonna get lunch and then go to your soccer practice?"

Jisung shakes his head. "I can just pass on that one. Let's just do the report in my apartment again." She looks him straight in the eye and before she can say anything, he says, "I cleaned up."

Y/N smiles a little. "Okay."

"What do you wanna eat? My treat today." He says, looking at her.

"I'm craving biryani."

"Let's go to Jamieson's then."

And somehow they're eating lunch together, Jisung is skipping practice to do their project together, talking casually unlike before where they just roll their eyes at each other.

Y/N asks while they eat. "So what do you think about the modelling thing?"

He shrugs. "It's cool for my first time. You and your team made it too easy for me."

"And you were pretty good too. You have potential." She puts her hand on her face, posing elegantly, mimicking his poses earlier.

Jisung laughs and immediately removes her hand from her face. "Stop it."

"Why? Wait until Chenle and Sungchan see those photos."

"Oh God." He cringes and ducks head under his hands while Y/N laughs.

They spend the whole afternoon discussing their topic, even arguing if one finds something different in their researches but at the end, they were able to finish up their presentation and are confident that they'll be able to discuss it in front of the class on Monday.

"Thanks, Ji."

And for some reason they found themselves arguing about what comes first, the egg or the chicken. They even did their research on their stands far more efficiently than how they did it first with their report about carbohydrates.

"If I'm right, you'll give me $50?" He taunts.

She pulls out her phone from her purse and counters with, "And if I'm right, I send this pic to your friends." Showing him photos of his shoot that she took without his knowing.

Jisung was about to snatch his phone when she immediately stands up and runs away from him. "Y/N, delete that!"

"No!" She yells back but falls onto the floor by the kitchen. "I can't feel my legs!"

He rushes to her with panic on his face. "What happened?!"

"I think we squatted on the floor for too long." Jisung sighs in relief. "But I still can't feel my legs, it's weird and ticklish."

"What do you want me to do?"

"I dunno, it's really weird. I hate it."

"I'll try to massage it." He looks at her waiting for her approval and she eventually nods, just desperate for the weird feeling on her legs to go away. His hands are huge, she notices. That's why it looked so good in the photos earlier.

"It's going away." Before they stand up, he attempts to steal her phone but she immediately holds it protectively with both her hands. "No, these are mine."

"That's literally me in those photos."

"Yes, I'm aware."

He traps her between both his arms and the kitchen counter. Jisung lowers himself to level with her. "Give me your phone." His voice drops an octave that gives her goosebumps. His voice has always been deep but it's different when it's this deep.

Their faces are almost touching and she blinks a couple of times as her nervousness gets the better of her. "Y-You're too close."

"I know."

"You look good." Out of the blue she says then covers her mouth with one hand.

Jisung chuckles. "You look good too. Really good." She tries to avoid his lingering eyes but she can't. "You like us like this, don't you? That's why you don't wanna give me your phone?"

"I thought I'm the first woman who ever got this close to you?"

"You are."

"It doesn't seem like it."

He gives a small smile. "That's because you make me do things I never knew I'm capable of doing." And her heart skipped a beat, she couldn't say anything. It's like her throat is blocked with something. "And I thought you're one of them strong girls? The type who nobody wants to mess with. You've always had that image but why are you refusing now?"

Y/N grabs him by the neck and crashes her lips with his. Jisung got surprised but started kissing her back until he snaps back to reality.

But she suddenly pushes him away, running to his bedroom to get her things and in no time, she's in her car driving home with her heart pounding in her ribcage. Meanwhile, Jisung remained speechless in the kitchen, no idea as to what exactly happened.

From: Park Jisung

People usually say something and don't just run after they do that, yk?

From: Park Jisung

Don't be a coward now.

To: Park Jisung

Forget that ever happened.

From: Park Jisung

Uh... no

From: Park Jisung

You kissed me first and now you just want me to forget abt it?

To: Park Jisung

Yes

From: Park Jisung

No, in fact, maybe I'll kiss you again tomorrow.

[lilykatelyn-blog]

can i request a fic where niki is super flirty towards reader and she pretends to not like it but we all know she does, and they end up together?

Leave me alone.. N.RK

genre: fluff, maybe angst?

SEND IN A REQUEST

warnings: none :)

notes: sorry it took me so long anon 😭 I hope you like it! Just message me if you want me to redo it or do an e2l with a diff member or diff group.

“Shut up Niki.” You said after his millionth time trying to flirt with you. “Come on! It’s not that hard to admit you’re in love with me!” He said, putting on a faux offended face, or at least you hoped it was fake. You rolled your eyes at some horrible pickup line he said. Some ‘roses are red, violets are blue,’ shit. “Niki. Class is starting, sit down.” You hissed at him, obviously frustrated.

“y/n?” He asked 30 minutes into class. “What?” You asked, emphasizing the T. “Why do you hate me?” That got you to look up from your notes and away from the teacher, only to be met with his sad face. Your heart almost broke in 2 at the fact that he thought you hated him. To be honest, his teasing was really funny, and he made your day 10x better. “I-“ the bell rang, cutting you off. You silently thanked timing and used it as an excuse to run out and get home as quick as possible. What you didn’t know is that he took that as the idea that you hated him even more. The next day in class, he didn’t flirt with you, or talk to you, or sit with you, or bother you for a pencil. That was unusual but you decided it wasn’t anything to worry about because maybe he was sick? Yeah, surely he was sick and just didn’t want to get you sick? You started overthinking it when it started happening every single day. After 1 week of him doing this, you confronted him after class. “What’s going on?” You asked him, your tone coming out harsher than you expected or intended it to. “Uhhh.. class is.. over?” He said, looking confused at you while he packed his backpack. “No! I mean, yeah, but not what I meant! Why are you ignoring me?” You asked, a little more clear. “Oh! Uhm, the flirting was making you uncomfortable right? And I annoy you right? I uh, just decided to stop being a bother.” He said, looking down and scratching the back of his neck. He started to get up to leave, but you stopped him.

“when did I say I hated it? I uh.. lghbdbs it..” you moved your hand across your mouth (if your Indian or in general have watched it, kinda like Shah Rukh Khan saying World Dance Championship in Happy New Year to Boman Irani (they play Charlie and Tammy)). “You what?” He asked, smirking at your confession. “I uh.. lo- it.” “Say it properly so I can ask you out you idiot.” He all but yelled out of frustration. “Fine! I.. lo- I love it..” your voice was strained as you spoke the words.

“okay, now that that’s over with. Y/N L/N, will you go out with me?” “It’s not a proposal dude-“ “yes of no?!” “Fine, fine, yes.”

and they all lived HAPPILY EVER AFTER, La La La La La~

[jean-vi]

God Complex | Jean x Reader

Pairing: Jean Kirstein x Reader Inspiration:  “I never got to tell her how I feel about her.” - Jean Kirstein, The Battle for Trost Summary: What happens when two people collide in an unexpected way? Genre: Rivals to Lovers, Angst, Fluff Warnings: Violence, Blood, Swearing, SPOILERS S1 WC: 5.1K A/N: I am in love with Jean Kirstein.  Other: Masterlist

    “Hey, focus, or are you too busy staring at my beautiful hair?” You teased, tugging a strand alluringly. The boy in front of you blushed and then furrowed his eyebrows. He was handsome, you’d give him that. 

    “I am focused,” Jean hissed, “you are completely insufferable, but your tricks don’t work on me.” 

    You grinned and lowered yourself into a fighting stance. You gestured to him to move. 

    “Come on then, show me what you’re made of.” 

    The dusty training grounds for hand to hand combat were a good place to make enemies, and boy, you had wanted to wipe the smug grin off Jean Kirstein’s face for months now. Honestly, you couldn’t care less about hand to hand combat or learning how to fight other people, you just wanted to prove that you were better than Jean. Coming from inside of Wall Sina, you weren’t that accustomed to getting messy. Your family was well off, your mother a devout follower of the walls. 

    Still, you joined the military. You yearned to be a soldier, to prove that you were more than fancy gowns and jewels. Thus, it had instantly rubbed you the wrong way when Jean had commented on your all too styled hair or the fact that your hands remained callous free. 

    The callouses were forming, but they were small, and your body ached every day. It didn’t matter, though, because you knew you were tough. You were a fighter. Now, with the day becoming an orange hue on the horizon, you would show Jean just what a fighter you were. 

    You had observed Annie a few times, and even though you weren’t particularly good at anything when you first conscripted, you picked up things fast. Perhaps it was an excellent mimicry ability, but you liked to observe. 

    “You really think you’re all that, huh?” Jean laughed, “you’re going to eat shit.” 

    He lunged forward and you took a step back, watching his momentum carry him past you. Then, you shoved him forward. He face planted, but to your dismay, he got up with a smile. You felt Annie watching you carefully. 

    “Nice one, but can you take this?” He charged again, and you prepared yourself, except he stepped to the side suddenly. He wrapped his arms around your waist and threw you to the dirt. Your back hit the hard ground the air flew from your lungs. You wheezed uncomfortably and just lay in the dirt for a moment, trying to catch your breath. Okay, he’d got you there, but that must be a fluke, right? 

    You took a deep, shuddering, breath in as he laughed and rolled onto his feet. His brown hair was waving in the wind and he bent down, offering his hand. You looked away, face burning. You wouldn’t accept defeat like this. Your eyes trailed to the surrounding recruits. All of these recruits thought their lives were important, you were no different. Your life didn’t feel insignificant or something worth wasting. You were exactly like everybody else by feeling like nobody else. You grasped his hand and gripped tightly. 

    “Hey, you’re gonna take off some fingers if you do that,” Jean started, but as you stood, you kicked his legs out from under him. You pushed yourself to your feet, your uniform now beyond dirty, and swiped some loose specks off your pants. 

   “Never let your guard down,” you whispered. It was pathetic, even you could see that. It was like a last ditch effort for a struggling animal. This was all a matter of pride, really. You refused to back down and you refused to lose to Jean Kirstein. 

    “That was cheap,” he muttered unhappily, getting back onto his feet. He rubbed his neck and walked away. You were bored, but it seemed that Jean didn’t really care about fighting anyone else either. You watched him stumble around, still groaning about his back if someone came up to him. He seemed fine to you. 

    “You know, this wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t provoke that suicidal maniac,” you grinned as he nursed his bruising cheek. 

    “He started it,” Jean grumbled as you leaned against his bunk beds frame. 

    “And you continued it, idiot,” you rolled your eyes and pushed off the frame and headed for the door. You’d helped him to his quarters after his little skirmish with Eren, and he hadn’t complained. Then the second you sat him down, he had the audacity to say that you didn’t need to help him, as if he wasn’t swaying on his feet. Jean was still your comrade in arms and though you had a deep seated dislike of the man, he did earn your sympathy with that pathetic fight. 

    “Why do you even care,” he said through gritted teeth. He was looking down and you couldn’t tell if it was because he was embarrassed, ashamed, or angry. His hand rested on his forehead, the other was clenched in a fist. You widened your eyes and turned around. 

    “I don’t care, Jean,” you began and took a step towards the man with a wide smile, “I just wanted to make sure you were actually injured. It serves you right. Maybe you should have used the techniques I showed you.” 

    You could recognize Annie’s moves anywhere and the fact that Eren used them showed that he actually payed attention. So what of Jean? How pitiful. Was he really so full of himself that he thought he could win? 

    “How are you so naturally gifted then, huh?” 

    “I worked at it,” you looked at your nails and then crouched next to him. His eyes trailed you, “I know that even though I have many comrades in arms now, any of them could easily become my enemy. You should understand that.” 

    “They would never be our enemies,” Jean sat up fully and looked at you, rolling his shoulders and staring at you incredulously. Your smile widened. 

    “Sure thing, Jean, but I already have an enemy with a major God complex.” 

    You headed for the door and paused at the door as he began to laugh, “I have the god complex? You are far worse than I am.” 

    Tch. Your teeth grinded together and you tightened your fingers around the door handle, trying to decide if you should respond. Well, fine, you’d play the villain if he wanted you to. You left without another word. You’d always been a pretty decisive person, and strong-willed at that. 

    When you stepped outside, Annie was leaned against the wall beside the door. You and her weren’t exactly close, but you’d gained mutual respect. 

    “Do I have a god complex?” You asked Annie. She looked away and began to walk across the dirt. 

    “I don’t care,” she said softly and you frowned as she retreated across the yard to her cabin. Well, it was your cabin too, but you didn’t feel like going to bed yet. The torches illuminated the dirt and the sky above was clear. You could see every star, where the moon cut through the night, bathing the world in an eerie luminescence. You wanted to savor this moment, even though your stomach was churning after your conversation with Jean. 

    Were you a bad person? Maybe. Did you care what Jean Kirstein had to say? Absolutely not. 

    “Can you believe we’re graduating today?” Sasha smiled her usual sunny smile and you grinned. 

    “It’s hard to believe, Sasha,” you chuckled. You tapped your foot against the wall. It was such a beautiful day, a perfect day to graduate. Standing atop the wall, you could see all of Trost. The walls were cramped, when you were inside them, but being able to stand on them gave you sweeping, panoramic views. How could you ever return to your life of sitting in dining rooms and going to dances? You just couldn’t. 

    “Are you going to join the Military Police?” Annie interrupted Sasha and yours conversation. You didn’t mind, though, Annie never spoke. 

    “Uh, you know, I was thinking of just joining Garrison.” Yes, the soldiers who got to stand on the walls, to fortify the great walls that kept humanity safe. You couldn’t think of a more noble task. 

   “Why?” Annie asked, her cold blue eyes looking you over, her head tilted. 

    “Hey, it’s okay to not join the MPs, although I don’t understand why you wouldn’t…” Sasha whispered.

    “I don’t want to be safe,” you sighed, “I want to make a difference.”

    “Oh, how heroic.” You knew that voice. A grating on your ears. 

    “Kirstein, I don’t recall this conversation involving you,” you said lightly, a bite coming through your voice. 

    “You know,” he continued, ignoring your remark, “nothing ever happens in Garrison anyway. If you really want to be heroic and all that, make a difference, why don’t you just join the scouts?” He had this shit-eating grin on his face and your fingers curled into fists. 

    “Okay, enough, you two,” Sasha sighed and tried to step between you two, but she couldn’t stop the fire now. Annie seemed to grow bored and left, leaving Sasha alone with two cannons ready to explode. 

    “Horse face,” you shot.

    “God complex,” he responded just as easily.

    “I don’t even have one. I literally want to help other people,” you argued.

    “Ego maniac?” 

    “You are insufferable. I can’t believe you’re my comrade.” 

    “Have you ever considered,” he peered into your eyes with a cold gaze, “that you’re just telling yourself you have to put up with me because I’m your comrade, but you actually like me?” 

    Your cheeks began to redden and he backed away, shoving his hands into his pockets. He had a knowing look on his face. 

    “Don’t you want to go back to your little, comfortable, life inside the walls? Most people here would envy you if they found out what I know,” he whispered. 

    “More like I’d find myself suddenly in good company,” you eyed the other recruits, “you know, maybe I will join the Scouts.” 

    “You’d throw away your life over a silly remark? You know, I thought you were smarter than that, but go ahead and join the suicidal maniac.” 

    “Happily,” you said through gritted teeth, your jaw grinding. 

    Jean was staring at you, but it wasn’t cold or defiant. You couldn’t quite place it. His stare was softer and something foreign, something warmer. He looked you over and then glanced away. 

    In a quieter voice, he murmured, “don’t join the Scouts. I was just kidding.” Maybe it was because he knew you’d do it. You weren’t one to joke around and never do what you promised. 

    “Fine. I’ll think about it,” you said, triumphant with what appeared to be him backing down from the fight. Victorious. 

    “Guys,” Sasha walked towards the group and you two followed her. Reloading cannons and polishing equipment did get quite boring, “look what I got,” she pulled out a slab of meat and gave a dopey smile. 

    Your mouth watered at the sight of the meat. The smell itself just intoxicating. 

    “I stole it from the officer’s storehouse,” she said as if it was nothing, “we can eat it after we’re done with this! We can just grow more cattle once we reclaim our lands.” 

    “Sasha…” you started and then closed your eyes, “I want some!” 

    Jean stared at you with horror, “I don’t know if this is a good idea–”

    “Please let me have some too!” Conny shouted and soon everyone was joining in. 

    “Okay, fine,” Jean clenched his jaw and then smiled, “I would like a piece as well!” 

    You chuckled and, seeing the group coming together, you felt as though perhaps you’d never need to use that hand to hand combat. These people weren’t your enemies, just as Jean had said. Maybe, just maybe, you’d get through it together. These people, the walls. Just you and your comrades. You had a sense of responsibility, but when were you ever just a kid? These people made you feel like a kid again. The joking and the screams of joy. You watched Sasha place the meat in a box and you all started to return to your jobs, cleaning with vigor. 

    A thunderous crack. A flash of light. 

    Trainees, really? The military was so desperate that they would use trainees? You jumped off the roof and onto the next, watching to titans pile into Trost. The people. The people. It was a massacre like you’d never seen before. There was so much blood. The liquid just bathed the streets and there wasn’t a single stone without a speck of iron red on it. 

    You sat down and contemplated your options. You were going to die here, right? In every attack in history, that you could think of, there was always the immediate reaction, the one that caused the most deaths. Then there was the planned reaction where things were actually solved. 

    So why did you have to get caught up in the immediate reaction? You clenched your swords. You’d killed plenty of titan dummies. The real thing was so much harder. You couldn’t even bring yourself to raise a sword against them without shaking. 

    They moved, they were unpredictable. Maybe this was humanity’s punishment. 

    “Fuck!” You held your head, a headache quickly overtaking your mind. There was too much to think about, too much mental pain. 

    So you needed to shut it off. You and the rest of your group from the wall were separated now. Your squad was gone. It was only you. You’d have time to mourn them later. Their pained screams were ringing through your mind, but you needed to pull yourself together. 

    “Alright, you’ve got this,” you whispered furiously and gripped your blades tighter. You shut off that fear response, instead coming to the resolve that this would be the battlefield you died on. You no longer cared for your life, you’d run in, foolishly. 

    A scream, a familiar voice. For some reason it had your heart racing, as if it could pound any harder than it already was. You rushed to the other side of the building and saw Jean, grasped in a titan’s hand. Your eyes widened, standing there stupidly as he met your eyes. 

   “Help me!” He screeched and it kicked you into action. 

    You jumped off the roof, latching onto the titan’s nape. A deep, spurting, wound. The titan fell. Your blades had dug deep. You’d been one of the more consistent and efficient slayers of the recruits. You were just glad you’d snapped out of whatever daze came with watching your comrades get eaten. 

    As the titan fell, an ugly little one, you hooked your arm under Jean’s armpit and pulled him to a nearby roof. You dropped him unceremoniously and you took in deep, heaving breaths. 

    “Oh, I’m going to be sick,” you covered your mouth. Your fear was turning into nausea, but you refused to lose your lunch. You stood, your hands resting on your knees. Jean was sitting, dumbfounded on his ass. 

    “At least save it for when I’m not around,” he tried to tease, but the paleness in both of your faces completely threw off any attempt of joking. He was looking at his hands and you were looking at yours. Both were shaking. 

    “Hey, argue with me, dumbass,” he finally said, “tell me what I did was stupid or something.” 

    You didn’t have the energy, instead leaning against the chimney on the roof. The tiles were absolutely wrecked and you could hear the faint screams of people nearby. You just shook your head and closed your eyes, looking up to the sky. He watched you and then stood, walking towards you. 

    “Oi, did you hear me?”

    “No energy, Jean. Can you just quit it?” 

    “No, say something stupid again,” he demanded, “pretend we’re back in bootcamp.”

    “But we’re not in boot camp, Jean.” You opened your eyes drowsily and saw his looming figure. 

    “Yes, you are,” he insisted and he held out his hand. You gently batted it away. The adrenaline was leaving your body and you had no strength to even think of standing. Every part of you was sore and your wrist hurt. 

    “You’re fucking dumb, Kirstein. You go and get yourself caught by a titan and drag me into this mess,” you finally grumbled, but it didn’t have the effect you expected. He smiled widely and you grasped his hand, heaving yourself up. 

   “You’re right,” he said, “don’t let it get to your head, though.” 

    You found yourself grinning now too. You tightened your grip on his hand and nodded, “oh I definitely am.” 

    “We need your help over on the west side! The people aren’t evacuating fast enough.” A soldier screamed. Another came over the other building. 

    “And on the south side titans are all over us,” the other soldier panted. They both stopped and saw the two of you, “is it just you guys left?” 

    “Well, I got separated from my squad and…” Jean trailed off and looked to you. You had a grim look on your face. 

    “My entire squad has fallen. I’m the only one left,” you said lowly. The soldiers looked at each other and then nodded. 

    “We’ll take one each. We need all the help we can get.” The south soldier commanded and you looked at Jean. The only person you knew was a person you couldn’t stand, but now he was someone familiar. In an environment like this, who would notice if you died? It was nice to see a face you recognized. Fuck. You didn’t want to separate, but you had your duties. 

    “I’ll go south,” you announced and put your hand on Jean’s shoulder. He looked conflicted as well, “you go west,” you commanded. 

    “But the titans–” he hesitated, “I’ll go to the south.” 

    “No,” you said harshly, “you’ve already shown you can’t handle yourself. I saved your ass. I can turn off this little part in my brain,” you gestured to your head, “that makes me afraid. You clearly can’t,” you wanted to save him once more, if selfishly, “I didn’t spend all my effort saving you just for you to go die again. Now shut up and listen,” you gripped his shoulder tighter as he stared at you in horror, “I’m not trying to discredit you here, Jean, but don’t you trust me?” 

    He closed his eyes in thought and then let out a deep breath. He pulled your hand off his shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze, which you tried your best not to react to. The man brushed his hand through his hair and then chuckled. 

    “There’s no one I’d trust more,” he finally relented and you wished you didn’t have to part. Maybe, after facing death, you two could truly see eye to eye. In the eyes of death, it didn’t matter who you were, your status, how you led your life. Death took all. 

    “Don’t forget about me, okay, Jean?” You smiled softly and crossed by him to follow the south side soldier. Even though you were shaking at the thought of being thrown back into battle, you refused to let Jean die. 

    “You won’t let me, when I see you again,” he frowned, but you both knew the likelihood of coming back alive from the southern side of Trost was a very small chance. 

    “Of course,” you assured and hopped off the roof, zipping from roof to roof, dodging titan after titan. His figure grew smaller behind you and then disappeared as he went to fulfill his duty. 

    Jean himself hadn’t been able to figure out why he entertained your teasing, but he solved it as he watched you go. 

    “I never got to tell her how I feel about her,” he finally murmured. 

    Your wrist was really starting to hurt. After slaying two titans, you were already worn out. You had no idea how Mikasa did it. She seemed to kill them effortlessly and she never seemed to tire. You wished you had that stamina, but that life wasn’t for you. You were destined to be tired, to be worn down, to be a human. You flexed your wrist and winced. You knew that if you dropped your swords now and let the adrenaline leave you, that you’d never get back up. You were beyond exhaustion. 

    You saw another titan and you glanced at your gear. You tapped the tanks on your ODM gear. Almost empty. You could kill this titan, but what of the two not three blocks away? You brushed strands of hair out of your face. Where was everyone? You looked around, desperately trying to find any of the members of the squad you had just joined. No, there was no one. 

    “Guys?” You called out, “come on, you can’t all be dead,” your voice began to shake. 

    Dread was looming over you. Yes, you had your duty as a soldier, you followed orders to a tee, but you couldn’t believe this feeling that was crawling up your gut. Regret. You took a deep breath in and once again focused on the task at hand. You refused to die with regrets. 

    You pulled the trigger and sunk your swords deep into the titan’s nape. Then you turned around the see the other two titans approaching, ever closer. Your hope was waning as time passed. You were basically out of gas now. Where were the suppliers? You glanced towards HQ and felt your stomach drop. Titans were crawling all over the building. 

    You held your wrist, suddenly letting out a small screech of pain. God, it just hurt so bad. You hoped it was a sprain and that was all. You were pretty close to HQ, but there was no way in hell that you would get through with all those titans. You jumped to the rooftop next to your building, trying to put more distance between you and the two titans behind. 

    “Think, think,” you whispered furiously to yourself, once again. There was no way you survived this, right? 

    Then, like hope reincarnated, you saw Jean. He was leading a group of other recruits. They were headed for HQ. Your eyes widened. There was no way. They’d all die, right? This must be some sick joke, like a suicide charge. 

    “Wait, don’t–” your voice was so meek. Your mouth was tired of speaking, your throat was dry. You coughed. 

    A scream. A titan? You stumbled backwards. Just out of thin air, a huge titan had appeared, it looked unlike the other titans and it crouched into a fighting stance. There was something so uniquely…human about that titan. What was even stranger, was that the titan began to fight the others. You were stunned. While you were standing there dumbly, you saw Jean take the opportunity. Okay, it was time to act too. 

    You jumped and prayed you had enough gas left as you followed his lead. Damn, you couldn’t believe you were following Jean Kirstein. You did have to admit he had good instincts. He saw the opportunity, he took it. That was a good moment of leadership, you’d give him that. 

    You crashed through the window of the building, feeling the glass slice across your cheek. Oh well, just a little inconvenience, but when you finally had caught your breath, Jean was watching you with wide eyes. 

    “You worried or something?” You barked as his eyes caught the cut on your face. 

    “Not at all.” He turned away and walked towards the common area of the building. 

    “You guys understand the plan?” Armin looked between all the recruits, “it’s…not that well polished, but–”

   “But it’s the best we got,” Jean affirmed and Armin looked away sheepishly. 

    “I don’t want anyone to get hurt, okay?” the blonde boy said. 

    “Hurt is inevitable, that’s what we signed up for,” you stated plainly, “we’ve all seen enough comrades die to fulfill a lifetime at this point. I doubt another would hurt any worse.” but you caught Jean watching you intently, his mouth a twisted frown. 

    “There are some people that I wouldn’t like to lose,” Jean spoke up, “so I think it would be painful, but you’re right,” he clenched his hands, “there’s no helping it.” 

    You tilted your head as the others walked away to start putting the plan into motion. 

    “What was that about, Jean?” You demanded as you readied your gear. Being one of the better titan slayers in the group, you were going to join the smaller group of cadets to help kill the titans below. Your wrist was a low pounding in the back of your mind. Right, you needed to kill this last one before your wrist got too much worse. 

    “I think you should just go with the others in the lift. We’ll get Sasha to take your place,” Jean started and you furrowed your eyebrows. 

    “What’s gotten into you?” You frowned, “you know I’m one of the best and I somehow survived until now. I thought you trusted me?” 

    “I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” he grasped your arm and you couldn’t help a hiss as he touched your wrist. His eyes widened, “you’re injured too. Don’t be idiotic!” 

    “I’m always idiotic, dumbass,” you shot back, but with less fire. 

    “Why are we even arguing?” Jean sighed, “Our friends have died and this is all we can do? This might be our best shot. I can’t lose another person, please just go with the others.” 

    “No,” you pushed back and ripped your arm out his grasp, despite the pain. 

    “Quit being so stubborn. It’s like you don’t even care what I have to say. Just listen to me.” 

    You suddenly reached out and grasped his hand, carefully holding it. He hesitated. 

    “I like arguing with you, Jean. It makes me feel human and alive,” you tilted your head, “And I wouldn’t argue if I didn’t care about what you had to say,” you pulled out the last of your swords, “see you, Jean.”

    “Hold.” Marco was shaking, like everyone else in the lift. You crouched on a beam, ready. You felt sorry for them. Everyone was shaking like a leaf, but they remained firm. If you all died here, at least you’d go down together. No, you wouldn’t let them down. 

    The titans moved forward, their eyes pressing right up to the barrels of the guns. A few people whimpered in fear. You took a deep breath in, calming the nerves in your stomach. If you missed, you’d probably die and so would others. You had to make it. Marco held the signal to fire until the titans were less than an inch away. 

    Bang! 

    Shot upon shot was fired into the titans’ eyes, blinding them. 

    “Now!” Someone screamed, but you were too nervous out of your mind to even care who. 

    You jumped up and ran until you were directly above your target titan. With all your strength, you let yourself fall towards its nape, slicing down decisively. Then, right as your sword was about to hit its nape, the pain in your wrist exploded like fireworks. You let out a screech of pain as you instinctively dropped the sword in your injured hand, leaving a single scratch mark on the beast’s nape. You were blinded with pain, the world spinning as you fell back. You’d left one sword in the beast and the other was clutch in your uninjured hand. 

    “Y/N missed!” Reiner shouted and you backed away from the creature that was now headed straight for you. 

    No, this wasn’t how it ended, right? You didn’t just fail completely, right? You felt your throat close up and for once, you let the fear course through your veins, you couldn’t stop it. Everything that was built up suddenly released in a wave of nauseous fear. Sure, you’d been a bit overconfident, but you didn’t deserve to die like this. 

    “No, no, no,” you dove out of the way as it lunged, with its huge hands swiping at you. 

    Then, right as you were on the verge of a decisive end, a person swooped down and sliced the beast. You took in a shuddering breath as you watched the titan fall to the side. You looked up to thank your savior, but the moment was instantly ruined upon seeing who it was. He was taking in heaving breaths as well, his eyes wide as he stared at you. 

    “I told you that you were too injured,” he panted. You gingerly stood from your place on the floor, caressing your wrist. 

    “I expected to see your smug horseface staring at me,” you tried to joke, but you’d now both seen death on your doorstep twice. 

    Jean nodded a little and then sheathed his swords. He held out his hand and you stared, confused. He tilted his head.

    “We’re even now,” he said lightly. 

    He headed to the gas canisters and began to refill his tanks. You followed him, at a loss for words. You watched as he went about replenishing his gear, but you couldn’t focus. You had this feeling in your gut, a sinking feeling, and you wondered if he felt it too. 

    “Jean, wait,” you suddenly grasped his arm when he was done. He looked caught off guard and raised an eyebrow, “don’t you dare get separated from me again. You’ll get yourself killed.” Was all you could muster, despite the word vomit threatening to come out–like how he suddenly and mysteriously made you feel comfort in a world as cruel as this one. 

    “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he looked you up and down and smiled, “never thought I’d see you worried about me.”

    “Don’t get too comfortable, I’m more concerned about your health and safety,” you stammered, “as a comrade, of course.” 

    He had a cocky grin on his face, but it didn’t piss you off like it usually did. He took a step towards you and you found it quite hard to swallow all of a sudden. This wasn’t anything like basic training, where you easily threw him to the dirt time after time. Now, he had the power and you were busy feeling injured and ashamed that you let down the others. Jean leaned down, his nose brushing yours and your cheeks were red immediately. 

    “I’m perfectly comfortable here, are you?” He whispered fiendishly. You pushed him off a little because everything was becoming hot. Your hands were sweating and the room felt like it had become at least ten degrees warmer. 

    “Why wouldn’t I be comfortable?” You tried to bite back stubbornly, but your words were falling off. Then you smiled. You were going to take control now. You pushed back towards him, leaning in and looking up with wide eyes, “if you’re so comfortable, why don’t you just kiss me already, idiot?” 

    He grabbed your jacket and pulled you into a deep kiss, “how about that for comfort?” 

    You pulled away with a grin, “yeah, that’s pretty damn good for a dumbass.”

to be continued...?

[lolabangtan]

A N G E L | multi

You came to this world with a purpose: seven wicked souls wander this realm in search of what was stolen from them. While they seek revenge, you seek a way to hunt them down, but destiny has it deemed that you will find kinship in what is owed redemption.

Word count: ??

Warnings: smut, heavy religious themes, mild violence, toxic behaviour, mentions of abuse.

# non-linear storyline, supernatural AU, soulmates AU, CEO/celebrity AU, fallen angel!OT7 x devil hunter!female reader, dom/sub dynamics, strangers to enemies to lovers, a bit Namjoon!main, explicit warnings for each chapter.

· read this story listening to its own Spotify playlist

BOOK I.

scripture

heaven-sent

nuova eva

wrath

BOOK II.

rib

seed

womb

sin

BOOK III.

on a cross

ruth

revelations

TAGLIST IS OPEN

Send an ask or reply to this post by commenting or rebblogging!

Cheers,

Lola.

[jadejedi]

Fantasy Book Review: The Captive Trilogy by C.S. Pacat

JJ’s rating: 4.5/5

How feral did it make me: 5/5

My book reviews

Ahh these books. What can I possibly say about these books that hasn’t been said before? I first read these books not long after the third book, Kings Rising, was published, back in 2016. If I remember correctly, on that first read, I was sort of like, eh, these are good. I like these. And then a bit later, maybe like a year later (?) I went back and reread them and was like “oh my god?? oh my god?? OH MY GOD??!” And now they have become one of my more frequent rereads (like almost once a year), and they are easily the fandom that I most frequently return to in between hyper fixations. I only have these books on Kindle, and they are pretty thoroughly annotated at this point. Book two, Prince’s Gambit, is genuinely one of my favorite books of all time. 

Okay, if you haven’t read these books or heard of them, here’s the summary: Damianos of Akielos, the crown prince of this world’s version of ancient Greece, is captured by his half-brother in a coup and sent to his country’s greatest enemy, Vere, which is this world’s version of, like, a more debauched version of medieval France. Damen is given as a sex slave to the frigid Crown Prince Laurent. The problem? Damen killed Laurent’s older brother, Prince Auguste, five years ago, and if Laurent finds out Damen's true identity, he’ll definitely have him killed. So Damen has to make his way through the complexities of the Veretian court, ruled by Laurent’s uncle, the Regent, while trying to escape before his identity is revealed. 

There are a LOT OF content warnings for these books, but some of them are spoilers, so if you want them, DM me and I will be happy to answer any questions about content. I will say that the first book has a fairly different tone than the later two. The first book really leans in more to the master/slave kink dynamics of the whole story and is more like ~oooh look! So sexy! So provocative!~ The second and third books are more like “here, let me stab you with these heart wrenching revelations and genuine emotions!!!!!” Like the kink dynamics are still there in the later two books, but the tone is much more serious, if that makes sense. I believe C.S. Pacat has sort of talked about how the Captive Prince series was kind of her practice trilogy before writing Dark Rise (book two out now!!), and I think that is most obvious in the first book. 

The relationship between Damen and Laurent is absolutely wonderful. I consider them one of my top two or three OTPs. The hatred. The eventual respect. The yearning. The pining. The LONGING. THE TRUST. Here are some of my favorite (non spoilery) lines (all from book 2 because 2 and 3 have the best lines but the best lines in book 3 are all spoilers):

“It was like being pleased by a thorn bush, feeling fond of every prickle. Another second and he was going to say something ridiculous like that.”

“To get what you want, you have to know exactly how much you are willing to give up.” 

“A kingdom, or this.” (this line lives RENT FUCKING FREE in my mind forever)

These books also have a fairly unambiguously happy ending. The author has published several short stories, which are all very enjoyable.

Due to the content of these books, they are definitely not for everyone, but for me, at least, I think they are brilliant. They are THE enemies to friends to lovers couple, in my humble opinion. Also, there is a fairly large fandom for these books, with some GREAT fan artists and fanfic authors. Truly we are all blessed.

[rainbinni]

Published books recommendations 📚

Here are some of the best books I’ve read so far. I have a lot more to read so I’ll probably made other posts. Let me know your favorite books so I can read it ;)

!! All of those books content strong and mature language !!

Off campus serie - Elle Kennedy [5 books] (Young adult)

The deal (Garett & Hannah) [400 pages] The mistake (Logan & Grace) [336 pages] The score (Dean & Ally) [384 pages] The goal (Tuck & Sabrina) [384 pages] The legacy (everyone) [337 pages]

Follow the stories of four hockey players roommates and their sex/love life. Each books are about one of the roommates except the last who reunited everyone.

Briar university series - Elle Kennedy [4 books] (young adults)

The chase (Fitz & Summer) [368 pages] The risk (Brenna & Jake) [408 pages] The play (Hunter & Demi) [400 pages] The dare (Conor & Taylor) [336 pages]

This four books are the following stories of the off campus series. It’s about four roommates (2 girls 2 boys) who moved in the house of the off campus roommates (who leaved after graduation)

Twisted serie - Ana Huang [4 books] (young adults)

Twisted love (Ava & Alex) [343 pages] Twisted game (Bridget & Rhys) [438 pages] Twisted hate (Jules & Josh) [504 pages] Twisted lies (Stella & Christian) [558 pages]

Those books follow the stories of four best friend and their love life. You can find tropes like e2l, s2l, best friend brother/ brother best friend, bodyguard…

Devil’s night serie - Penelope Douglas [6 books] (Dark romance)

Corrupt (Micheal & Rika) [499 pages] Hideaway (Kai & Banks) [522 pages] Kill switch (Damon & Winter) [638 pages] Conclave [100 pages] Nightfall (Will & Emory) [727 pages] Fire night [95 pages]

30th October. Devil’s night. Their night. Every year the four horsemen put their masks on and pull the best prank on the city without fearing any consequences. Having rich family make them untouchable. Or at least that’s what they thought…

A million kisses in your life time - Monica Murphy [554 pages] (young adults)

At Lancaster Prep, the girls love her. They all want to be her friend. Only Crew see Wren for who she really is. A repressed little virgin who keeps her feelings locked up so tight she’s probably close to bursting. She thinks she’s above us all. Even him. She’s not his type. Until they’re forced to work together in class and realize they might have more things in common than they originally thought. Soon enough he find himself completely obsessed. He will do anything for this girl to make her fall in love with him.

Icebreaker - Hanna Grace [414 pages] (young adults)

Anastasia Allen is a competitive figure skater since she was five years old, a full college scholarship thanks to her place on the Maple Hills skating team, and a schedule that would make even the most driven person weep, Stassie comes to win. No exceptions. Nathan Hawkins has never had a problem he couldn’t solve. As captain of the Maple Hills Titans, he knows the responsibility of keeping the hockey team on the ice rests on his shoulders. When a misunderstanding results in the two teams sharing a rink, and Anastasia’s partner gets hurt in the aftermath, Nate finds himself swapping his stick for tights, and one scary coach for an even scarier one. The pair find themselves stuck together in more ways than one, but it’s fine, because Anastasia doesn’t even like hockey players…right?

[smartkookiee]

Wounds We Never Show // Prologue: Before It All —jjk.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭

❥pairing: Jungkook x reader

❥genre/rating: 18 + explicit content, enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers, these two really do hate each other

❥chapter warnings: Fighting (verbal), swearing, mutual hate

❥word-count: 2.4k

❥Series Masterlist ❥ || Next Chapter

fic is cross posted to ao3 - send an ask or comment on post to be added to the tag list 🖤

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭

Your final together was tomorrow, after a month of painfully hard work it would finally be over. Except you hadn’t heard from Jungkook  this week at all. From what you can tell he seemed to finish all of his portion of the work. You on the other hand, due to some finals, were a little behind but you had no doubts that you would be able to catch up. 

Not hearing from Jungkook did have you somewhat concerned. 

You both were normal last week but this week radio silence. You had texted him just keeping him updated on the progress of your work. You choked it up to him probably being swamped with his own work, and his own projects for other classes. So you tried not too worry. 

You sent one more text, anxiety rising with each passing minute.

:hey sorry to text you again. I’m just checking in! I should be able to finish in the next hour or two, so don’t worry.

:we are going to kill this presentation in the morning.

May have been a touch late to texting someone, it was 1:30 in the morning. You didn’t care though, he had texted you at like two in the morning before. So, you figured he’d forgive you.

But the second you sent the text.

The lights and your laptop had switched off. You sat in completely darkness. Suddenly the emergency lights shown by your door. You turned on your flashlight. Your laptop was old so your power being out means that you don’t have a laptop to work on. You made your way to the hall where some others had gathered. Asking what had happened.

Your RA eventually came up to your floor and told everyone not to worry, they were going to have the power on soon and to stay in our rooms for now. That we would get some text updates. You decided to not panic yet, soon after you did get a text saying that their was a an on campus outage and the problem would be resolved soon.

“Seriously?” you muttered, going back into your room. You texted Jungkook again.

:hey sorry I swear this is the last one, power in my dorm is out.

:and you know how my laptop is, so I have to wait until the power comes back.

:still going to kill it tomorrow!

Forty-five agonizing minutes later, the power finally returned. You rushed back to your laptop, praying everything was still there. But when you opened your document, it was blank. Completely empty.

“No,” you whispered, frantically searching for any backup.

Your entire month of work was gone. You tried finding a previous version, but there was nothing. Not on your hard drive, not in your email, not even a single backup copy. Every word, every citation, every carefully crafted paragraph—vanished. Except... Jungkook might have a copy.

You grabbed your phone and called him, your fingers trembling. Voicemail. You called again, and it rang once before going straight to voicemail again.

“Jungkook, pick up. Something happened. I need you to call me back.”

Panic set in as you scoured every corner of your computer. Desperate, you even checked old drafts and random notes on your phone, but there was nothing. Your heart sank. You called Jungkook two more times, but there was still no answer.

You were going to have to start over.

You knew the material—you’d been working on it every day for a month—but rewriting it from memory was going to be a nightmare. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself, and started typing. Every minute felt like an hour, but you pushed through. Tiredness clawed at you, and your eyes stung from the screen’s glare, but there was no other option.

Five hours later, you finally finished. The paper was nowhere near perfect, but it was something. A B, maybe a C at best, but it was better than nothing. Exhaustion overtook you the second you hit save, and you collapsed into bed.

It felt like only a second had passed when your eyes snapped open. You scrambled for your phone, the panic setting in again.

10:05 AM.

Ten missed texts and three missed calls from Jungkook.

“No!” You leapt out of bed, pulling on the first clothes you found, emailing the paper to yourself while sprinting out the door. You raced across campus, nearly tripping as you weaved through students, your breath burning in your lungs. By the time you reached the classroom, the hallway was filled with students leaving.

You pushed through the door, your hair a mess, sweat dripping down your forehead.

“Shit, no, no, please.” You spotted your professor leaving and tried to push your way forward, only to be blocked by Jungkook.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” he sneered as you stumbled in, breathless and disheveled.

“Jungkook--” you began, but he cut you off.

“Where the hell have you been? Why weren’t you here?” His voice was icy, and he took a menacing step toward you, making you step back.

“I—I fell asleep!” You stammered, tears welling up. Your exhaustion was really hitting you, and you couldn’t hold them in, “Did you see my texts? My calls? My voicemails?”

“Texts and calls don’t mean shit if you’re not here!” he snapped. “You’re acting like you care, but you clearly don’t. You’ve been flaky this entire time.”

“Jungkook, that’s not fair—”

“Not fair?” he cut in, voice rising. “Maybe you did this on purpose! Maybe you’ve been plotting to screw me over!”

The accusation hit hard. “Are you seriously accusing me of sabotaging you? I’ve worked my ass off for this project!”

Jungkook’s eyes were cold. “And where were you when it mattered? You think your excuses are enough? Friends don’t disappear.”

The recent reconciliation between the both of you now dissolving on the ground between the both of you. You both had taken huge strides to become friends despite your resistance.

“Friends don’t accuse each other of being petty schemers!” you shot back, the anger surging. “I’ve been working all night to fix this, and you’re just throwing all my effort back in my face!”

“Maybe I’m tired of your games,” Jungkook retorted, his voice dripping with contempt. “Maybe David was right about you. Maybe he was right that this is something you do.”

David, your ex-boyfriend. Who had manipulated so many people into believing that you were crazy, when he had cheated on you multiple times. What hurt worse? Jungkook knew all of this, knew that David was an asshole. Knew that David was an awful person who lied every time he spoke.

Now he was throwing it in your face, what the hell was wrong with him?

The sting of his words was unbearable. “How dare you! I trusted you to be reasonable. You said you believed me when it came to what David said about me. How dare you throw that in my face! I came here ready to explain, ready to make things right. But you’re too busy being a jackass to listen.”

“I may be a jackass but at least I can be relied upon.” he said quietly, almost dismissively.

The words cut deeper than any knife. “You know what? I don’t need to defend myself to someone who’s already made up their mind. You’re not worth the effort, since you are so quick to blame others. You’re just like David after all.”

You turned away, feeling tears spill down your face. You walked away, not looking back. You had to save your grades, even if it meant cutting ties with Jungkook for good. Didn’t really matter, you two didn’t know each other that well anyways.

You found your professor, explained everything through your tears, and showed him the evidence. He listened, though his sympathy couldn’t override the rules. He allowed you to submit your rewritten paper but couldn’t let you do the presentation. He promised to grade fairly but couldn’t guarantee a good mark.

You received a D. It was lower than you hoped but enough to pass. Jungkook, however, failed, delaying his graduation.

You felt a grim satisfaction, but the bitterness lingered. The loss of the friendship gnawed at you, even if you hated him. You’d never see him again, and you were more than okay with that.

That was five years ago now.

The memory lingered as fresh and raw as ever. You had moved on, grown, and carved out a space where Jungkook’s existence didn’t matter. That was until you became friends with Melanie, who in every sense of the word was your best friend. Though, because fate is a funny thing, she fell in love with Namjoon. Namjoon’s closest friend was none other than Jungkook.

That relationship kept you and Jungkook in each other's lives for longer than either of you had cared for.

Forcing the two of you back into each other’s orbit. That also meant facing Jungkook repeatedly, each time resulting in fights so venomous you wondered how Melanie and Namjoon put up with it. So many clashes over so many years, so many attempts by mutual friends proved futile in bringing the both of you together. Eventually, everyone gave up and just made sure to never have the two of you in a room together.

Now with Namjoon and Melanie’s engagement, a wedding loomed around the corner.

You leaned against the kitchen counter, mind still reeling from the past. The fallout from that final class had changed everything. Every time you saw Jungkook since then, it was an instant—words turned to daggers, and every conversation became a battlefield. Neither of you ever backed down; pride kept you both locked in a bitter stalemate.

“Just a heads-up,” Melanie said, breaking you out of your thoughts. She hesitated, eyes flicking away as if bracing for impact. “I know how you two feel about each other, but he’s Namjoon’s best friend.”

You knew what was coming, but you still grimaced. “Don’t tell me.”

Melanie sighed. “Jungkook is his best man.”

You clenched your jaw, the anger bubbling up instantly. You had known this was inevitable, but it didn’t make it any easier to hear. “Of course, he is.”

Melanie’s living room felt unusually tense, the soft glow of the evening sun doing little to warm the atmosphere. Melanie had always been the bridge between you and Jungkook—constantly trying to keep the peace, but it was becoming increasingly clear that this time was different. You couldn’t just show up, exchange a few biting remarks with Jungkook, and call it a day. This was her wedding. This was the culmination of everything she’d dreamed of, and she deserved your best effort.

Melanie took a deep breath, her stern expression softening just slightly. “I know it’s a big ask, and I wouldn’t push it if I didn’t have to. But Namjoon and Jungkook—they’ve been through so much together. He’s not just a friend to Namjoon; he’s like a brother. And I need you both to make this work.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of her words. Melanie was trying to keep the peace, but the sadness in her eyes was unmistakable. She had seen you and Jungkook tear each other down time and again. Seeing the tears you shed over the times he would hit the nail on the head, and say something that went too far. Held you back from starting a physical altercation with him.

Each encounter was more bitter than the last, and every argument chipped away at the thin veneer of civility you both clung to.

“I promise,” you said, your voice steady despite the resentment simmering underneath. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

Melanie’s lips twitched into a small smile, but her eyes remained cautious. “Thank you. And I mean it, no half-hearted attempts. I need rainbows and kindness coming out of both of your asses.”

You laughed despite yourself, appreciating the way Melanie could still inject humor into even the most awkward of situations. “Got it. Rainbows and kindness. I’ll bring a whole damn unicorn if that’s what it takes.”

“Good, I don’t know what I would do if we had another new years situation.” Although it was years ago, that was probably the worst fight you and Jungkook had. The things that were said and the drink you dumped on him are very present in your mind. Made you laugh to yourself even but it definitely caused a bot of an issues in your group.

You shook your head, feeling a familiar pang of bitterness. “Yeah that was a really low moment for me. I think because of that things between us will never change. He’s still that same arrogant jerk who can’t own up to his mistakes. And I’m done pretending I care enough to fix anything.”

“People change,” she said softly, it was something she tried to convince you of many times. “But I get it. You don’t have to be friends—you just have to coexist.”

“That, I can do,” you said firmly. “I’m not going to let him ruin this for you.”

“Thank you,” Melanie said, squeezing your hand. “I’m so happy you accepted the role. I couldn’t imagine my wedding without you there.”

“For you? Anything,” you replied, your resolve hardening. You would hold onto your promise to Melanie, no matter how much Jungkook got under your skin. This wedding was about Namjoon and Melanie, not you and whatever animosity you harbored toward Jungkook.

The room lapsed into a comfortable silence, but your mind was racing, already plotting ways to avoid Jungkook’s inevitable provocations. You pictured the rehearsal dinner, the ceremony, the reception—any scenario where the two of you would be forced to interact. You would keep your distance, smile politely, and not engage. If Jungkook’s presence was like a storm cloud threatening to ruin the day, you would be calm. You owed Melanie that much.

“When the wedding rolls around, I’ll keep up appearances and be civil and kind,” you said, trying to reassure not just Melanie, but yourself. “Jungkook might be the spawn of Satan, but as long as I don’t speak to him directly, everything will go perfectly.”

No amount of promises could erase the deep-seated anger you felt every time you saw his face. This time, though, you would have to bury it, if only for a weekend. You would smile through gritted teeth, hold your tongue when he inevitably said something infuriating, and pretend you were above it all.

You had months to prep yourself though. Plenty of time to make sure that nothing Jungkook could do could piss you off.

Nothing that weekend will surprise you.

[jaehunnyy]

His same, old, safe bet

Part 3 - What do you want from me?

Synopsis: Jeong Jaehyun has been the college's resident heartbreaker since before girls could even remember. He didn't care about feelings—well, until he met you. Blinded by your thirst for revenge, you become determined to give him a taste of his own medicine. It's only a matter of time before Jaehyun's carefully crafted walls come crashing down... right at your feet.

Genre: college!au, kind of an enemies-to-lovers!au, angst with a happy ending, fluff, attempt of crack

Word count: 1.3k

Pairing: heartthrob!Jaehyun × fem!reader (feat. Yuta × reader's bff)

Warnings: mentions of bad past relationships, mentions of heartbreak, some curse words, Jaehyun is a bit of a douchebag and he flirts a lot, usage of pet names, crack, abrubt ending (this chapter), possible grammatical mistakes

✨️ Taglist: @painted-hills, @kookiedesi, @shakalakaboomboo, @bluisheye93, @daegall, @lovelyjaem, @ahtisa02, @carelessshootanonymous, @justineasian, @eneiyri, @pckeia, @shairamaexx, @vanclaudewho, @sungbeam, @chuusposts, @mkjeong, @precioussoulofmine, @sstarrysshit, @evilsailorsenshi, @angel-luv-04

__________________________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

One week has passed since your first encounter with Jeong Jaehyun. As much as it bothered you to admit, while the pain of the thoughts was crushing your pride in sharp pieces, you found yourself thinking about him and his weird antics. His last words were tattooed on the back of your brain, their weight feeling like a burden and giving you headaches. You used to believe in love at first sight, but you were now gathering all the strength to erase the thought that you might have fallen in love with him. You weren't supposed to, as he was only a challenge for you, a chance to prove him wrong. Your eyes were absentmindedly staring outside the window, your fingers fidgeting with the straw inside the drink you had ordered a while ago.

"Y/N, are you listening?" your friend, Ari, stopped typing on her phone, waving her hand in front of you so she can get your attention.

"Were you talking to me? Since you and Yuta have gotten together, your eyes are glued on your damn phone."

She pressed her lips together, in hope to have her smile contained—though it didn't work, her lips immediately stretching into happiness at the mention of his boyfriend.

"Sorry, Y/N. I was telling you about how our date went, but you spaced out. What's up?"

"I was just thinking about some assignments I need to get done. Tell me more about your date," you tried your best to force a smile, though right then, you were the suspicious one.

Worried that she might notice the change of your attitude, you brushed it off immediately, giving her a gentle nudge so she can start talking.

"It was very cute! He brought me roses and all—he's a real gentleman!" she squealed like a kid, clapping her hands softly.

Her genuine happiness made you chuckle, sincerely this time. You were happy that she had found herself a nice guy, but you were hoping it would last too. Your look traveled to the little clock placed on the taupe-colored wall, and you jumped off the chair in disbelief.

"Holy shit, i'm going to be late! I'm leaving now, take care!"

Without giving her any chance to say her goodbyes to you, you ran out of the café, your legs moving at their fastest pace. You kept on walking like that for around five minutes, before a loud honk resonated next to you. At first, you wanted to ignore it, but it wouldn't stop. Already annoyed, you looked in that direction, ready to shout at the someone that kept bothering you—but that was before his right front window rolled down, every thought dissipating at the sight of him. His signature smirk furrowed his face again, making you roll your eyes. Were you really bothered, though?

"Do you need a ride, hon'?" his voice resonated again, his hand resting on the steering wheel.

"I can get there by myself. You're no savior." you spat, smiling innocently. "Plus, if you wouldn't have appeared, what would have happened?"

He was quite intimidated by your stare and how it had an impact on him every time, along with the way you had a back up answer for his words, always.

"Just get in, I won't bite. It's a win-win situation for both of us."

You raised your eyebrow, crossing your arms softly. He burst out laughing, though when he saw the burning flames your eyes held, he stopped immediately.

"What were you thinking about? What I meant was that you will luckily get to your classes in time, and I get to spend time with you. So you'd better stop sitting here, on your own, and actually hop into my car."

You sighed, measuring the opportunities. "It's not like a 10 minutes ride with him would kill you. C'mon, Y/N." And though you knew that it wasn't part of your plan, you got inside.

The first two minutes were peaceful, but the silence was interrupted by his raspy voice. The only difference was that he wasn't talking, but singing. His honey voice matched the song perfectly, and as much as you wished to prevent that from happening, some butterflies started to dance in your stomach. If only it was the right time, but it wasn't the time to feel flattered by him, god, you had a mission. So you did what you thought was best right then—turned off the radio.

"Y/N? You actually resemble someone I tried to avoid my whole childhood."

You glared at him again, getting more and more confused with everything that was slipping through his mouth.

"And may I ask, who is that?" you bit your lip nervously, excepting a foul pick-up line of his again. Though—you wouldn't have ever imagined what would come next.

"Grinch. You remind me of Grinch. Do you know him? The one who stole Christmas, yeah." he stated with a serious face, before his laughter could replace the awkward silence. "You're both really grumpy… But if it makes you feel any better, you look a bit better than him."

If you used to find him the tiniest bit charming before, now it all went away, deep into the void.

"Grinch?! Jeong Jaehyun, I swear to God I'll end you."

"You'll end me? And how will you do this, doll?"

His calm tone irritated you, and the pet names he came with made you cringe every single time.

"I'll distract you until you crash," you threw him an evil smile, before realizing the deep meaning of your words: "No, wait, this could have both of us hurt!"

His chortling was heard once again, and you really wanted to smack him. Was he laughing at everything?

"You are such a dummy sometimes, Y/N." he said while parking the car, his hands handling the steering wheel skillfully. "Attractive", you thought, before shaking your head. And you made it obvious too.

"Y/N… you are acting very weird today. Am I, maybe, the reason behind this behaviour of yours?"

He was getting too full of himself, and you had to do something about it.

"No, it's actually your friend, Dokyeom. He is really hot, and less of a douchebag too." you proudly smiled, and got out of his car, leaving him high and dry once again.

There you were, again. The sassy Y/N he knew. The girl who tricked him with a fake name, the one who made him feel what losing his mind was like. The different one. He watched your figure getting smaller as you walked away, before leaving his car with a slam of the front door. His friends, Dokyeom and Mingyu, were working on a project together, and Yuta was attending his class. He shrugged and regained his cool posture, before putting his sunglasses on and walking inside the big building.

Two hours later, the break found him entering the café, as usual. His friends were waiting there, but they seemed to pay attention to the girls talking a few tables away. Even from a distance, they could tell how important the conversation was. And they were right. Ari had finally decided to tell you about her ex, and though you felt like the world around you crashed, it all made sense. A blinding thirst for revenge grew inside of you, and you already knew what you had to do. On the other side, you walked to your table like nothing happened, a weird smile plastered on your once—bright face.

"Hey, Y/N! We're meeting once again." he waved and sat next to you.

He felt like he needed to hurry this process, before the tables could have turned.

"Look, I want you to go on a date with me. If you'll enjoy it, we will meet again. If not, I promise I will leave you alone, for good."

Your eyes widened at his words, crimson red blush settling on your cheeks. He was giving up fastly, and that was odd. You knew he was planning something, but so were you.

"Are you in?"

You were more than happy with how the tables started to turn. "I'll show you why you shouldn't have messed with me, Jung," you thought, before opening your mouth to give him the answer.

[excalibur-gone-missing]

[TEASER]

Paring: seungcheol x you

Requested: no

Release date: 24-04-24

Genre: mafia au, reverse of getting kidnaped by the mafia boss, fluff, e2l, crack, assistant au

Warning(s): mention of abduction, guns?

summary: It was not supposed to be like this, it was a meticulous plan perfectly curated by you, Jun and Seokmin. You were supposed to go get the man who was the future heir of the Kim Corps named Mingyu, you ever had a pic of his. Most importantly it was definitely not supposed to be the man who now sits in your basement claiming that he is the leader of the mafia organisation you three work for.

words: 342

Other works

disclaimer: this is not the exact representation of the subjects in real life. I just use them for my inspiration.

a/n: taglist is open, comment if you want to be tagged.

[permanent taglist][for those who want to join the permanent taglist]

“So, you are telling me these three, these newbies who literally didn’t have any good job for them to gain experience drugged your ass and took you to god knows where, and you couldn’t even put up a good fight?!”

Jeonghan exclaims looking at the seated, nervous and scared faces of the three of you from Seungcheol’s office’s glass.

“Apparently not”, the older man sighs.

“My friend are you sure you are a real mafia? Because in the light of the current happenings I am starting to question your integrity a lot.”

Jeonghan says as he barks out a laugh, taking pleasure at his friends’ humiliation.

The bitch continues to make fun of the older man.

“Or maybe you were too immersed in staring at the pretty lady to notice that you were getting kidnapped”.

“I just thought I was getting mugged, so I didn’t fight hard enough, who knew I would be kidnapped instead.”

Seungcheol grumbles pouting a bit.

“Which is even worse, because you are telling me you would have let people just mug you for no reason when you are one of the most influential people underground!” now Jeonghan did look pretty concerned about the statement his superior just spewed and he does indeed have a hard time accepting it.

“Ahh! Just get over with it and let me go and make sure the three of them face the appropriate consequences for not only abducting me, but also trying to abduct my friend”, Seungcheol barks out while walking out, thoroughly humiliated and annoyed that his junior was having fun at his expense.

So Jeonghan does what he is good at. Right after his superior leaves, he strides towards the group and says, “so because the boss has instructed me to do something with you three which will stop you guys from going off the hook, I’m going to assign you some jobs in the organisation because I can.”

Now, anyone even vaguely familiar with Jeonghan would recognize the expression he wore just before chaos ensued, but contrary to popular belief, Jeonghan is actually quite amiable—at least, that's what he believes, and that's what matters, right?

He continued, “Junhui, you’ll be overseeing the artillery division our deputy head Chan will ensure you are well informed about your job. You’ll meet him tomorrow. As for Seokmin,” he paused, a sly smile crossing his face, which made Seokmin visibly nervous, “you, my friend, will be our esteemed boss's driver. Lastly, y/n, you'll be his assistant. You'll meet Chan tomorrow too; he'll explain the workings of your new role.”

Normally, in any ordinary conversation, you wouldn't dare ask inappropriate questions, but the circumstances were far from normal, so you proceeded with the most audacious question you could muster: “Why did Chan leave his previous post?”

Jeonghan politely responded, “He left because the job didn’t suit him, so we shifted him to the artillery department as a deputy head.”

Unspoken was the fact that Chan had been worn down by the boss's relentless bullying, quietly requesting a transfer for at least three years before Jeonghan finally relented. Since then, the turnover of assistants had been alarmingly high. Jeonghan desperately hoped you would stick around. Moreover, if either you or Seungcheol objected to this arrangement, he had enough leverage to ensure you both compile.

Enough dirt to keep both of you in line.

[eleni-cherie]

among thieves ✨ || bts • pjm

- epilogue

"what even am I to you? your rival, your lover, an obstacle or am I supposed to be your coffin?"

about two thieves who can't live with nor without each other. and a joint past that comes back to threaten them.

© 2023 | eleni_cherie

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masterlist: here

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, very flirty jimin, friends/rivals/exes to lovers (it's complicated, ok?!) f2l e2l ex2l all members play a role in this story!

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

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several years later

Tainan, Taiwan

Jimin took a sip from his ice coffee and flipped a page in the book he was reading.

The evening sun was bathing the building in a warm shade, a comfortably mild summer atmosphere being created. Some children ran through the streets to get to the nearest park with lots of laughter and screams. Almost bumping into two women who were chatting while carrying their groceries.

He turned another page when sensing someone taking a seat on the free chair on the other side of his table. He didn't need to look up to know who it was though. The café being not overly crowded, and he had already seen him enter from the corner of his eye.

"You finally found me."

"Who said I ever lost track of you?"

Jimin perked up with a lopsided smirk, arching a brow at him. "What took you so long then?"

Seokjin laughed out, shaking his head. "Choosing a country that isn't an interpol member to settle down.. you knew what you were doing."

Closing the book on his lap, he took another sip from his coffee.

"Oh, is that so? I just came here for the nice weather," he said innocently, a small chuckle leaving his lips as he looked at his former antagonist. It felt strange somehow, having him simply sit there casually next to him without him trying to arrest him. Who would've thought a day like this would ever come. "And how comes you pay me a visit now?"

The older man shrugged, leaning back in his seat. "Been awhile since the last time I saw you, so I thought why not spending my vacation here?'"

Jimin nodded understanding and smiled at him. "And how've you been?"

He shrugged. "Oh, you know.. after you guys became inactive, it became quite boring."

"Aw."

"No, that wasn't a compliment."

"It sounded like one though."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Seokjin sighed, "But you know, it became boring and you know, I ain't getting younger either. So after I got married, I decided to take it easier and stepped down from the leader position. I focus more on paperwork now."

Jimin's eyes widened in shock as he straightened himself. Unable to imagine some random office sitter in the leader position. "And who's the leader in the theft divison now?"

"Blake."

"Oh!" he exclaimed and relaxed into his previous position, "I can see that. She always seemed eager to prove herself to you."

"And she did."

"Kinda sad for Jungkookie though, isn't it?"

"Nah," Seokjin waved at him, shaking his head, "He never was interested in that position. He still works there with her though."

Jimin couldn't keep himself from laughing at the thought of Skylar and Jungkook together and her giving him orders while he obeyed like a good subordinate. "You know, I always felt like the two were into each other and ever since I tried setting them up.."

A teasing grin spread on Seokjin's features. "Since when are you so invested in other people's love life?"

He only shrugged and dragged a dramatic sigh. "Can't help it, I'm such a romantic."

Seokjin laughed under his breath. "To be honest, I sometimes felt the same," he admitted then, "And I still think it whenever I catch them looking at each other. Perhaps it was their professionalism that kept them from going further."

"Or perhaps they're just dating in secret."

He perked up at this, seeing Jimin wiggling his brows at him. "You think so?"

"I might or might not have my sources."

The older man laughed out, nodding. "Well, good for them then."

"But wait!" Jimin exclaimed then, suddenly having processed something else. "You said you got married? To Yongsun?"

Seokjin's eyes widened, realising he had indeed mentioned it. He bit back a smile, confirming it again with a quick nod. "Yeah.."

"And I wasn't invited to the wedding?" Jimin faked offence to which Seokjin grinned.

"Figured you wouldn't have wanted to get arrested."

"True. But since you only met her thanks to me, I still think I deserved it."

"It surely wasn't thanks to you.."

"Now, don't be so unfair," Jimin pouted, "You wouldn't have been at that ship if I hadn't planned to steal the 'black star'." He was referring to the party a CEO of one of the biggest korean companies had thrown for his wife's birthday two years ago. And that wife had happened to own a very valuable black pearl, which she was wearing on a spray brooch and which the gang had been after. "So technically, I deserved an invitation."

Seokjin groaned in annoyance, getting tired of their quarrel. "You know what? I take it back. It's been great since you retired. I finally got some peace."

"Rude considering I practically introduced you to her."

"You didn't 'introduce' her to me!" Seokjin objected with a laugh, "You pushed her on me when I was running after you!"

"Still counts - you're married now, aren't you?" Jimin pointed out with a sly grin.

He wasn't able to disagree with that. So he gave up with an exhausted sigh.

"So?" Seokjin coughen then in hopes of changing topics and looked around. "And where's the rest?"

"Thought you had kept track on all of us."

"I did," he corrected, "But since interpol doesn't have any resources here, it wasn't too easy and there're some gaps."

Jimin hummed, stirring his coffee with the straw.. "Well, Taehyungie and his wife live nearby."

"You mean Cassandra?"

"Oh, you even got her name! Impressive!"

"Aish, stop with the sarcasm! Of course I know all your associates! I hunted you guys for years after all." Seokjin rolled his eyes before adding with a smirk, "And I was pretty good at it."

Jimin couldn't stop laughing, finding it always amusing how his opponent reacted when getting upset. "Never doubted your skills."

"So the two live nearby."

He nodded. "Yeah, she works at a hospital here."

"And Yoongi?"

"Right now, he's at one of the temples in the mountains. Meditating, training or whatever," Jimin snorted, drinking the last bit of coffee. He always found it quite lame whenever Yoongi got in one of his 'monk moods' - as Jimin called them - every few years and just disappeared for awhile to disconnect from everything. But perhaps he was just a little envious of that skill, since he himself could never do it. "But knowing him, he'll be back in the city in a few weeks."

Seokjin hummed. The corners of his lips shaping a cocky smile. "Needless to ask where Arabella ended up, right?"

"Right," a grin tucking on Jimin's full lips. His glance falling down to his watch then. "I'm actually waiting here for her. She should come any minute now."

"To be honest," Seokjin began then with a light frown on his soft features, "I always knew you guys would retire some day. I just assumed it'd be along with me."

"Well, you know we aren't in our early twenties anymore and besides.. some priorities shifted with time."

Seokjin hummed. Understanding it in a way. After all, same applied to him by now. Still he couldn't help wondering what priorities had changed for Jimin and why.

A black Harley Davidson came to an abrupt halt in front of them then. Arabella taking her helmet off, her hair swaying as it fell over her shoulders.

"Bella-baby, you're late!"

"I said around six, not exactly. Not my fault you came here too early," she huffed. Her eyes widening when spotting the man next to him. "Pops, you here?"

She was actually quite happy to see Seokjin again, having kind of missed him - as weird as it sounded. She had been so used of having him always on their back, it was weird it wasn't the case anymore.

Seokjin, however, didn't seem as pleased. The old nickname cuasing him to roll his eyes. "Seriously, when will you guys ever quit calling me 'pops'?"

"Probably never, it's your nickname for a reason after all."

He laughed under his breath. "You never told me the reason though."

Arabella and Jimin exchanged a look, giggling. "Isn't it obvious? You were always running after us and scolding us. Like a dad."

"And you're older than us, so it fit."

He was speechless for a moment. In a way that stupid nickname that he had secretly grown fond of, made sense. It was even somehow cute, in a very weird and twisted way. He coughed then, feeling his ears becoming red. "I've got to go now," he announced and stood up, "Can't let Yong wait alone for too long. See you guys." He waved at them as he walked away. Only to shortly turn around then with a smirk. "Oh, but before I forget.. You don't coincidentally know anything about that stolen jade statue that is all over the local newpapers?"

Arabella and Jimin looked at each other, before giving him an innocent shrug. Shaking their heads. "No, why would we? We're retired now, remember?"

"Right. Right," Seokjin let out a loud laugh. Not being convinced at all. "Well, see you then."

As he disappeared around the corner, a frowned settled on Arabella's features. "He didn't buy it, did he?"

"So what?" Jimin shrugged and picked up his book, shoving it inside his jacket. "He can't do anything about it as long as we don't leave the country."

They might've officially retired a few months ago, but that didn't mean they'd be dead. After all they'd never be the kind to be content with a 'normal' life. Even if there was no one to hunt them anymore, neither from interpol nor from any organization - Namjoon and Hoseok having liquidated 'owl inc' and its branches only a year ago  - they still wanted to keep the excitement, thrill and fun. Just in smaller portions here and there.

"Anyway, let's go."

Arabella tossed him the second helmet before putting her own on and he got on the bike behind her. His arms wrapping around her waist, purposely way too high to be closer to her boobs and she rolled her eyes. Already used to his attics.

She switched the ignition button on, her foot kicking up the kickstand. "By the way," he spoke up then, propping his chin on her shoulder with an arched brow as he curiously looked up to her. "Don't you think it'd be better not to drive the bike for now? You know, because of the.." His eyes pointed down at her belly before returning to her.

She kind of wanted to be annoyed at him for even suggesting this, but then again she understood his worries. She pecked his cheek. "When the bump starts showing, I will," she smiled and squeezed the clutch lever all the way to the grip. His arms tightening around her.

And they drove off.

THE END

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-thank you all for reading this story! it was fun writing something totally new for once, so hope you also had fun reading it!

❗ the sequel a thief's end ✨ || bts • myg is out as well!

❗the prequel "a thief's origin ✨ || bts • kth" along with one shots for jungkook and seokjin are in the works!

- check out my other bts stories, too: here