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d1stalker · 9 days

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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.”

— —

—

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!

#deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #hugh jackman #logan x reader #x men #logan howlett imagine #deadpool movie #logan howlett fic #james logan howlett #e2l #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut #hugh jackman smut #logan howlett x you

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tulip-room · 11 days

Text

༊*·˚Wanna Be Your BFੈ✩‧₊˚

syn. general boyfriend hcs

featuring: Oikawa, Semi, Sakusa, Kita, Ushijima, Kageyama, Osamu, Kuroo

a/n: this was supposed to be out months ago but someone...not to name names (AVE) didn't finish their half because it was too fluffy. So I just finished her half today <3 (love you Ave even if you can't write fluff /lh).

Oikawa

Meet Cute or Not So Meet Cute? - how you meet

Would WANT a meet cute

Does not get one lol

His alarm hadn’t gone off that morning and he was not leaving his hair unstyled so he was late (yikes)

To make it worse it had started raining, like full on downpour, puddles in the street

And poor you, you were just minding your business when he absolutely RUNS you over

Oikawa didn’t think today could get any worse, it seems he was proven wrong. Not only was he late for practice, it was also raining hard. He grabbed his jacket since he didn’t want to bother with an umbrella and raced out the door of his home. He stupidly thought that would be the worst of his problems. In his rush he didn’t see you walking calmly on the street.

Unlike Oikawa, you had the day off work and were fully intending on enjoying it even if it was awful weather. Unfortunately for you, your day out gets cut short as a stranger runs into you and your clothes get drenched as you fall in a puddle with a splash. Your umbrella is a few feet away from you, the stranger reaches down and grabs it for you as he puts it over your head again. It’s obvious that he’s sorry if the redness and grimace on his face have anything to say for it.

“I’m so sorry,” he says and for a minute your brain freezes as you look up at him. The man is gorgeous and his voice is even nicer. “Here, if you give me your phone I’ll put my number in and I’ll make it up to you, yeah?” Even though he was in a rush earlier he doesn’t like the idea of running away after he caused you to be drenched.

You hand him your phone and introduce yourself. “Y/N L/N, and I guess maybe a coffee would be acceptable,” you shrug. He shakes his head with a small smile and hands your phone back to you.

“Toru Oikawa, and a coffee? That’s all? At least let me get you a new outfit to make up for the one I destroyed.”

Somehow, someway you find him charming

He does in fact get you a new outfit despite your protests that it’s not necessary

He is more late to practice because of it but he finds himself not caring

So while it might not be a meet cute, it wasn’t that bad of a day

First Date - your first date

I’m gonna be so fr right now

He’s basic

You’re going for coffee the day after he meets you

I hc that he doesn’t like the big coffee chains, you know just cause

He takes you to a cozy coffee shop, he takes you to a local place

VIBES??? IMMACULATE. Literally everyone knows everyone and they’re already making his drink when he walks in

First Kiss - your first kiss

It’s after your third date before he even asks

He’s been thinking about it since he accidentally knocked you over (yes the other seijoh boys mocked him and continue to mock him for it)

He walks you to your door and does that cliche thing where you guys just hold hands and look at each other

You say you should probably go inside and he’s like “Can I kiss you?”

You make him ask again before smiling and kissing him

He’s legit frozen after you walk inside and act like you didn’t just turn his world upside down

Jealous? - how they act when they’re jealous and if it’s easy for them to get jealous

Gets jealous so easy omg

The moment he catches a whiff of jealousy he’s attached to you

Full on arms around your waist and chin on your shoulder

Loudly introduces himself as your boyfriend

When you get home he gets all pouty and demands that you pay attention to him

Cute Things They Do - just small things they do that are endearing

Before he serves he has to find you in the crowd and see your smile because it “Clears his head”

Random gifts, not even like expensive ones all the time

Could literally be a rock he thought you would like or a flower he saw in the yard

Food fights when you try baking together. Like flour gets everywhere

You guys clean up together though which ends in a water fight

Puts sunscreen on you without you asking, like you guys leave the house and he has to stop you and be like “Hold on.” And just sprays it on your face and stuff, gives you a kiss after. (this is added here because I love him and I’m still reeling from an awful sunburn because my friend did in fact not put sunscreen on my back)

Rotating lockscreen but it’s always a photo of you

Either by yourself or the two of you together

Rambles about you to anyone who will listen

Semi

Meet Cute or Not So Meet Cute? - how you meet

MEET CUTE-ish

It happens after he performs for the night

He just kinda wanders the bar he was playing at and when you come up to him telling him about how much you loved his song?

He’s gone, whipped for you

So while you’re maybe a little more drunk than you should be he asks you to dance

Leaves with a new number in his phone and a smile on his face after he orders an uber for you

Semi wipes his face with a towel to get rid of the sweat from performing under the bright lights. He walks over to the bar to grab a drink, that’s when he catches a glimpse of probably the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. They’re smiling and dancing without a care in the world, the almost empty drink in their hand probably responsible.

You set your drink on the table and that’s when you meet eyes with the cute musician that was performing earlier. Your friends tease you trying to push you towards him to get his number. And you do. You finish off your drink and head over to the man. “Wanna dance?” You all but yell over the loud atmosphere of the club. He nods with a smile and takes your hand.

The two of you don’t talk, just dance, it’d be hard to hear over the crowd's cheers anyway. However, you both leave with a new number in your phones and wide smiles on your faces.

“Text me when you get home, yeah?” Semi, you’ve learned, says as he leans on the door of the uber after making sure you get in.

“Only if you text me when you get home,” you slur out. You were going to regret how much you drank in the morning but you supposed sober you would thank drunk you. Semi lets out a small laugh as he ruffles your hair and closes the door.

First Date - your first date

After a few weeks of texting each other you both have a free moment in your schedules

You had offhandedly mentioned wanting to play guitar, his eyes light up with an idea

Enter Semi proposing he teaches you how to play something, cause ya know…it’s a lot cheaper and it’ll be so much easier to learn with someone you already know

At the start he’s actual about it, has a chair set up across from him in his living room

Because you’re just not able to get one chord right though, he immediately asks if he can show you

You think he’ll take the guitar and show you. Wrong. He pats the couch and you sit in his lap as he puts his hands over yours and helps you press down on the right chords

First Kiss - your first kiss

He moves quick lol

It’s the same day as your first date

He makes dinner for the both of you after the whole guitar fiasco

You kiss his cheek as a thank you

He teases you by being like “That’s all? Don’t you think I deserve more than a kiss on the cheek?” you know, not expecting you to actually do it

Another flustered boy after you kiss him

Asks for another

Jealous? - how they act when they’re jealous and if it’s easy for them to get jealous

Another one who gets jealous so easily

When someone tries to hit on you though he kind of just chuckles and laughs it off

He makes subtle insults until they get the hint to leave you alone lol

I don’t think he would be as pouty when you got home though, only a little and he would be holding you reminding you how much he loves you

Cute Things They Do - just small things they do that are endearing

Saves you a spot in the front row at all the shows you’re able to go to

When he makes a new album he dedicates a song to you that’s literally just your name and is all the things he loves about you

He lets you put your feet between his legs to warm them up

When you hold hands he puts your hands in his jacket pocket so there’s less chance of you being separated

Impromptu serenading, just randomly starts singing to you

Wakes you up by pressing kisses all over your face

Does the “Y/N Loves me, they love me not” thing on flowers when he’s bored but gets so excited when it lands on the loves me. When it lands on love me not you have to kiss him and tell him not to listen to the stupid flower

Learns how to play your favorite songs and surprises you with them

Sakusa

Meet Cute or Not So Meet Cute? - how you meet

Not a Meet Cute but it’s not his fault

Really he only agreed because Atsumu said he would pay (yes, he lost a bet. Yes, Sakusa is there to collect his winnings and gloat)

He knew one day Atsumu exaggeratedly talking with his hands would lead to trouble

He was right

Here you come walking past the table in a nice white outfit and then suddenly there’s soda all over your pants

Atsumu is very sorry but Sakusa is more embarrassed, you? You laugh it off and say you were leaving anyways and it’ll wash right out

Today was, for all other purposes, a good day. Atsumu had made a foolish bet with Sakusa about who could score more service aces in a game. Sakusa won, by one which Atsumu definitely pouted about, which is why they were now sitting at Onigiri Miya. The loser had to buy the winner dinner, Sakusa really should’ve seen this accident coming from a mile away. Atsumu had lightly grazed his glass a few times while talking, very close to knocking it over more than once. And here comes a person dressed in all white.

One minute you’re saying goodbye to your friends and the next you’re covered in a drink. Both of the men at the table start rattling off apologies but you just laugh. “It’s fine, I was leaving anyway.” You wave them off.

“Still, I’m very sorry for his stupidity. I would say he’s not usually like this but I don't enjoy lying.” Sakusa cracks a small joke and is very pleased when you let out your own small laugh. He grabs his jacket from the chair beside him and hands it to you. “Here, use this to hide the stain.”

After gratefully taking the jacket you give the man your number. “So you can get this back.” You wave goodbye to him and leave. Atsumu takes this perfect opportunity to tease Sakusa about giving his jacket to a stranger. To which Sakusa tells him to shut up.

First Date - your first date

I also want to say he would be a coffee dude but- I think he would be nicer about it

He takes you to a nice dinner

This isn’t your first time hanging out by any means, you two have definitely been talking for at least a month before he asks you out

He thought you were funny and before long got a little crush (just a little one/j)

First Kiss - your first kiss

After a game

The team had been teasing him not believing he actually got a partner so he was a bit frustrated

When he comes out of the locker room all showered and changed and sees you in your Sakusa fan gear he loses it

He just lifts your chin up and kisses you

A very simple “Cute.” as he grabs your hand and the two of you leave

Jealous? - how they act when they’re jealous and if it’s easy for them to get jealous

Another one to laugh and insult the person who’s making them jealous

He grabs your hand and just stares at them effectively scaring them off

When he doesn’t hold your hand he just kind of looms behind you which usually does the job

If they don’t get the hint he will just start pulling you away with like a “I’m their boyfriend, go be pathetic somewhere else.”

Cute Things They Do - just small things they do that are endearing

While I don’t think he’s big on PDA I think there are exceptions to the rule

I think when he’s anxious he holds your hand and gives it three squeezes to say he loves you

After games he always gives you a kiss

Didn’t understand the hype around having his partner in his clothes until you wear one of his jerseys to a game and all he can think about is how cute you look in it

KING of forehead kisses

Locks your pinkies together sometimes instead of holding your hand

Still makes you pinky promise when you guys make a deal or you promise something

Writes you little notes sometimes and puts them in the pocket of your work pants or jacket

Instead of goodbye kisses he gives you hello kisses when he gets home from practice or you get home from work

Whichever comes first

Kita

Meet Cute or Not So Meet Cute? - how you meet

This man is literally perfect so yes

He deserves a meet cute as a treat (to me)

He just so happens to be in the same aisle as you and sees you struggling to get the last detergent from the top shelf

So being the perfect gentleman he is he gets it down for you

Luckily for both of you it’s not the last time you see him

During his bi-weekly trips to deliver rice to Onigiri Miya he sees you, helping Osamu

You’re helping him with the deliveries since you’re new and that’s when you and Kita exchange numbers

Later he texts you and asks if you would like to go on a date with him <3

Kita wasn’t meaning to go to the store today but he hadn’t realized he was out of detergent until he was about to go do laundry. So, here he was. He was trying to find his very specific brand of detergent, they had moved it when they last restocked much to his annoyance. That’s when he caught sight of a person glaring at a detergent on the top shelf. He went over and asked if he could help.

“Actually, if you could get that detergent down for me please. I swear it’s the only one that doesn’t make me break out.” You smile at the kind stranger. He smiles back and hands the detergent to you, grabbing one of his own.

“I know what you mean, I think it’s because this is the only detergent my grandma used.” You both part ways thinking that would be the last you saw of each other. You were both pleasantly surprised when he showed up at your new job with his bi-weekly delivery.

“Hey stranger,” you greet him and take the bag of rice from him.

“You two know each other?” Osamu asks.

“He was my hero and got laundry detergent down for me when I couldn’t reach it.”

“Well, I guess you guys will see more of each other then. This is Kita, he was my captain from back when I played volleyball. He comes by to deliver rice every other week.” Osamu explains and shows you how to check off the sheet. He leaves to the front to take orders trusting Kita to help you move the remaining bags inside.

“So, I’m Kita Shinsuke.” He holds out his hand.

“Y/N L/N,” you respond, holding out your own hand to shake. “I thought you were cute at the market so I guess it’s fate I saw you again. Sorry if this is bold but, can I get your number?”

“Of course, it’s funny you say that. I was just about to ask for your’s.”

First Date - your first date

He would take you to a farmer’s market

Now, I know what you’re all going to say “Just because he’s a farmer doesn’t-” and let me stop you right there.

This is completely self-indulgent, I love farmer’s markets and like the outfits for summer go hard okay. He’s a man who actually knows what a sundress is and LIVES for seeing you in one

Also, getting strawberries or other food and asking the other if they want some only to just feed it to them instead of handing them the fork or berry.

First Kiss - your first kiss

You’ve been dating for a few months (he asked you out with flowers and a nice dinner after your 6th date)

You would have to initiate because I think he would be scared of overstepping

You fr get distracted by his lips whenever he talks

You guys go to each other’s houses when you’re free and want company

So as you’re about to leave, it’s only like 8 but you both have an early day, you ask

It’s after he puts your coat on you (fr living my dream) you nervously ask him for a kiss

This smug man just smiles with a chuckle and kisses you then pats your head and tells you that you should get home and to be safe

You know like he didn’t just smirk before kissing you

Jealous? - how they act when they’re jealous and if it’s easy for them to get jealous

Most chill out of them

Literally just grabs your hand and introduces himself as your boyfriend

He’s a little insecure but when you look at him he is immediately fine again

Even makes a little joke about the situation like “You’re so pretty I don’t blame them.”

Cute Things They Do - just small things they do that are endearing

Sometimes he slips up and calls you his wife/husband and gets so red after

When you lay on him his hands make shapes on your back and he has you guess what he’s making

He sets his alarm for five minutes earlier than he needs to get up so he can hold you and look at you before he gets up

Never, and I do mean never leaves without kissing you goodbye. Even when he has to get up at like 4 for work, you’re still getting a kiss and getting tucked in

Likes to make you lunch and brings it to you

I think he stress bakes (me fr) so your house is always filled with baked goods (the twins highly appreciate you bringing them)

For team reunions they jokingly call you their parents

Orders for you, not in like a rude way obv but it just seems natural for him to (which means he memorizes your order at every restaurant/ coffee shop you guys go to)

Ushijima (Ave wrote the hcs for Ushi and Ushi only lol) @hiraethwa

Meet Cute or Not So Meet Cute? - how you meet

Not so meet cute :’)

You literally run into him in the men’s bathroom at a bar after being ditched by your friend who got back with their toxic ex despite all the advice you gave them

Ended up talking his ear off about it

Listens to you intently, pointing out red flags about this guy

He didn’t mind though

Asks you out on a date at the end of the night

You would joke that your first date was at the shitty bar bonding over your friend’s toxic partners

Ushijima was washing his hands and about to dry them off when you walked into the bathroom. “This is the men’s restroom,” he says so simply.

“Oh my…I’m so sorry. My friend literally ditched me and I think I’m a little too drunk to comprehend what’s going on right now. She got back with her ex despite me telling her how bad of an idea it was.” You start rambling. He nods his head as he dries his hand.

“Let’s go sit down.” He opens the door and leads you to a table where you continue to talk to him about the man in question.

“He always makes her pay for everything, I know this seems like a small thing but he drives off before he gets inside of her house. Like on their last date before they broke up he spent the whole time scrolling his phone and liking photos of models.”

“Sounds like he’s a real piece of work. I think it’s normal practice that whoever asks the person on the date is the one who pays. And while it may be small I believe it’s important to wait until someone is inside of their home safely before pulling away. And does that not count as cheating?” He pours some water into a cup and slides it to you. You mutter a small ‘thank you’ and drink some.

“In my head it counts as cheating. But apparently she thinks it’s fine. It just frustrates me because there’s this beautiful goddess of a woman and she’s dating…calling him a rat would be rude to rats.” He cracks a small smile at the joke.

When the night comes to an end you’re a little more sober but he still orders a cab for you. “Would you like to accompany me on a date?”

“You mean this wasn’t a date?” You joke.

First Date - your first date

Believes that enjoyment >> splurging on your first date

Brings you to a nice sushi restaurant that he has been to (he remembers you mentioned your obsession with sushi, yes)

“Why are you crying?”

“This sake nigiri is too good, is it even real?” you hiccup, while savoring the taste of the salmon melting in your mouth

“I’m glad you like it.”

Actively engages in conversation with you ^.^

THIS MAN WOULD WIPE OFF THE TINY DROPLET OF SHOYU ON THE CORNER OF YOUR LIPS

First Kiss - your first kiss

Despite what people may say about him, he is a romantic

He has read romance manga/novel or watched romance series (recommended by his best friend, of course)

It would happen on the second date after he drives you home

Literally happens like the k-dramas, I’m not even kidding

Man would open your door, lean over you and unbuckle your seatbelt, offer you his hand to get out of the car (he is a gentleman through and through, what can i say??)

You stop at the front of your house/apartment, smiling up at Ushijima, eyes falling to his lips, thanking him for the great date he took you on

He just tucks the stubborn little fringe you have behind your ear, tips your chin up towards him and leaves a kiss on your lips

Bids you good night and makes sure you get into your house/apartment complex safely before leaving

Jealous? - how they act when they’re jealous and if it’s easy for them to get jealous

This man is so confident (in himself and your love for him)

He is unfazed by anyone trying to flirt with you

Would totally come over and put his hand on your waist

Just to mark his territory

(He is not jealous, guys)

Just territorial :)

Cute Things They Do - just small things they do that are endearing

Walks in front of you in crowds because his towering frame just makes the crowd separate for him, and also because he doesn’t want you to be squished by people

Would buy you your favorite dessert from the pastry shop on his way home from practice

Makes sure that you are sleeping well, have a glass of water next to you before bed

Obsessed with your hands, he would be holding them whenever he can. Both of you need to write for some reason? He can still hold your hand because he’s left handed, and you’re right-handed.

Would always finish the bento you pack for him because it’s filled with your love

Kisses you goodbye, every single time!! Even if you’re asleep, he would press a kiss to your forehead, careful to not disturb your sleep

Kageyama

Meet Cute or Not So Meet Cute? - how you meet

Let’s be honest he doesn’t really go many places

You meet him when he’s going on a run in the park and you fell over bcs you sprained your ankle

He helps you over to the bench and exchange numbers so he can’t check in on you

He def forgets he did this so when you interview him at his next game both of you get surprised

Kageyama likes his routine of running before practice every morning. It’s a nice way to wake up because he’s not the most….happy person in the morning. It takes him a few laps of the park by his apartment before he sees you on the ground holding your ankle. He stops immediately and crouches down next to you. “Are you okay?”

“Does it look like I’m okay?” You snap as you hold your swelling ankle. “Sorry. It just hurts.” He nods in understanding and asks you to remove your hand so he can look at your ankle. He does a test to make sure it’s not broken and then helps you over to the bench. “Thank you. I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier.”

“It’s fine. Let me help you to the hospital.”

“It’s just a sprain, it's fine. I just need to go home and ice it.” He nods and pulls out his phone.

“Put your address in. I would like to make sure you reach home safely.” You nod and type your address into the phone. He helps you all the way home and exchanges numbers so he can make sure you’re okay later.

Needless to say he forgets about the exchange until he sees you walking towards him after one of his matches. “How’s your ankle?”

“Fine now. So, a volleyball star huh? I thought I recognized you somewhere.” The interview goes well, and he makes sure to text you when he gets home and asks to go on a date the following Saturday.

First Date - your first date

Simple guy

Movies

Dinner beforehand

Not a horror movie though, probably takes you to a romcom or smth and listens intently when you make fun of it the whole time

The minute goi try to get your card out to pay for anything he looks so confused omg

First Kiss - your first kiss

Nervous nervous nervous

Both of you are balls of anxiety

You two bumps noses a lot

Very quick and then you both kind of look away like “so…yeah.”

Jealous? - how they act when they’re jealous and if it’s easy for them to get jealous

Gets jealous so easily

Omfg…this boy. Will just sit there with the biggest fricken pour on his face and pretend like that’s not what’s going on

Crosses his arms and taps his foot and everything

Maybe a little silent treatment…just a little

“No, why don’t you go back to talking with that person. Since they were so interesting.”

Like bro…shut up and let us hold your hand and kiss you smh

Cute Things They Do - just small things they do that are endearing

Gets lost looking at your face and when you question him about it he just goes “You’re pretty.” Like without so much as a flash of red across his face

If you’re about to cross the road he grabs your hand and pulls you back before you cross bcs you don’t look both ways (bad Y/N)

If you stay up waiting for him to get back from an away game he carries you to the bed when you inevitably fall asleep

Has a photo of you in his wallet and when asked goes “Them? That’s my partner.”

Not the biggest yapper but taps about you in interviews when given the chance

Osamu

Meet Cute or Not So Meet Cute? - how you meet

MEET CUTE MEET CUTE MEET CUTE.

Sorry- couldn’t help myself

He’s a vendor at a food festival you went to and you come back a solid THREE times to his booth

“Gonna see you again before I close? Startin to think you’re only here for me.” With the most teasing look on his face

You do come back before close and he writes a note for you on your receipt

Come visit the actual shop sometime and maybe I’ll give you my number -Osamu

Osamu almost laughs when he sees your face at his booth for the second time that night. “Couldn’t get enough?”

“Never.” You smile and order more food. He happily packs it up for you and makes small talk while someone else takes the orders.

“Gonna see you again before I close? I’m startin’ to think you’re only here for me.”

“And if I am?” You ask and take the bag from his hands. He stands there a little starstruck for a minute with a small smile on his face before he shakes his head and gets back to work.

You do end up coming back right as he’s about to close. “Mysterious customer. Lovely to have you again.”

“Lovely to see you again too.”

“Here for the food or me this time?”

“Maybe a little bit of both.” You smile and you hand him your card as he rings up an order for you to try. You’re the last person in line so he talks to you while he makes your food.

“Well, I can’t say I’m disappointed.” He smiles and wraps your Onigiri up. He quickly writes something on your receipt before closing the window with a wink.

‘Come visit the actual shop sometime and I’ll give you my number’ -Osamu

First Date - your first date

Takes you to another street food festival.

Like your favorite thing to do, the two of you just walk around and talk

He will in fact not let you pay for anything (his poor wallet)

Tries to hold your hand when the two of you aren’t eating

Gets a little upset he didn’t think to bring chairs or a blanket for you to sit down and listen to the live music so he runs to the store and gets a blanket

Proceeds to buy more food and the two of you sit and listen to the music while you eat

Overall so soft <333

First Kiss - your first kiss

You’re legit just leaving the store

Like you came in to talk to him during rush hour because you had a day off and you tell him you have to leave after he closes up

He just leans over and presses a kiss to your lips so casually and says bye and text him when you get home safe

You’re just like “bro wtf?” And make him kiss you again before you leave

He proceeds to go home and giggle about it to himself in his kitchen as he makes dinner

Jealous? - how they act when they’re jealous and if it’s easy for them to get jealous

Yes.

Point blank. Jealous jealous man

Def silent treatment. Like petty man

“Osamu? You okay?”

Turns away and ignores you

Will make you kiss him like fifty times before he finally “forgives” you

You two talk about it later bcs healthy communication or wtv

Cute Things They Do - just small things they do that are endearing

Makes food for you (idc if this is overused. He’s a chef. As a culinary person. He makes you food).

Asks your family/friends about your favorite dishes so he can make them

Learns your skincare routine and when you’re too tired does it for you and tucks you in

If it’s raining he’ll put his jacket over your head and run to the car with you

If you’re feeling sad and won’t talk to him about it he kisses your face until you smile

If you two have a silly fight he’ll put on sad breakup songs until you come talk to him

Kuroo

Meet Cute or Not So Meet Cute? - how you meet

You meet him bcs he needs a fitting for a new suit

Neither of you get particularly flustered bcs you’re not used to this but he does think you’re very pretty

Refuses to ask you out at work bcs that’s just…ick. Like you’re fr stuck there so he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable

You ask him out “I’m sorry, this is so unprofessional of me. Would you maybe want to go on a date sometime?”

So happy. Like the minute you’re out of sight he fist bumps the air and smiles so happily (yes ppl do look at him for a minute before continuing on with his day and no he does not feel shame about it).

Kuroo goes every few months to get a suit fitted. He has a vast collection now because of work but he likes to add new ones to his rotation. When you’re the one fitting his suit he notes how pretty you are but doesn’t mention anything. You are at work after all.

The appointment goes by like all the other ones he’s been too. When you ring him out though he can see your eyes dart around the store. “I’m sorry, this is so unprofessional of me. Would you maybe like to go out sometime?”

A wide smile breaks out across his face and he nods his head and tries to contain his excitement. “Yeah. I would love that. I was actually going to ask you but I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable at work.”

“Oh…most people wouldn’t have cared. That was nice.” You smile at him and hand him his receipt. “See you again when you come back for the suit then.”

“See ya.” He tries to act cool and nonchalant but when he reaches outside he throws his hand in the air with a smile. He gets some head turns but he doesn’t care. Little does he know you can still see him from the counter and are hiding a laugh behind your hand.

First Date - your first date

Realized he left without your number so when he comes back to pick up the suit asks if you want to go out that night (you agree bcs why not be spontaneous)

Doesn’t have any reservations anywhere so the two of you run around the city

You do like claw machines and eat from food trucks and stuff in your nice work clothes

Def gets upset when he can’t win any of the claw machine games

So you get him a plushie

First Kiss - your first kiss

Ice cream (thank you Ave for not expanding on this in the slightest…I’m taking creative liberties)

You get some ice cream on your lip and he kisses it away

Realizes what he did and tries to play it off as “no big deal” but gets too flustered for that smh

“Kiss me properly if you’re going to kiss me.”

So you roll your eyes and kiss him

Jealous? - how they act when they’re jealous and if it’s easy for them to get jealous

I know we like to joke but I think he’s pretty chill

Just makes fun of the guy cause I mean…Kuroo is tall, handsome, successful, wealthy, fit. Like what’s this guy got?

Like comes up behind you and laughs at his attempts at flirting “Did you really expect to get them with that lame line?”

“What are you like 5’ 7? And that’s me being generous.”

“Aww that’s cute. Where did you get it? I think my grandma wanted something like it.”

LOWKEY TOXIC ASF.

Cute Things They Do - just small things they do that are endearing

Puts his hand over the corners of things when you bend down so you don’t hit your head

Does your hair every morning

Kisses your wedding ring before he leaves “just a reminder that this is real. That you’re really mine.”

Only goes to you to get his suits fitted

Tries to match his tie to your outfit and his watch to your jewelry

Has a plushie collection and gives you his favorite one

On a similar note you guys get a Build A Bear together and make posts like it’s your child

taglist (open, send an ask): @akaakeis @hiraethwa

stay a while why don't you? check out my other stuff

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evilminji · 4 months

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I think I figured it out?

My favorite thing to do with Danny? And the Zone in General?

Is to just... zoom out a bit, maybe move stage left, leave the trouble and (most of the) dramatics of his teen years behind and just? Discover that not all of Death is War. Not every Obsession is violence.

Sometimes it's owning a fancy little soaps shop. Or that PERFECT garden of their dreams, where they can share with EVERYBODY, that they could never manage in life. Maybe it's the universe biggest Comics library.

Yeah, when you can't die and pain is kinda subjective, a good ol fashioned brawl IS the best way to communicate. Fist to Fist, ecto to ecto, come out the otherside understanding each other a bit better. But like?

.....you could ALSO just use your damn words, you know? Maybe some of us don't WANT to fight.

The freedom to Do Anything? Means a good chunk of us will say "Nah, we good". And move on to do other, non-violent things! Not every Area of the Zone is the SAME you know. It's like countries. Or, well, Galaxies? Since it IS far more spread out then any country will ever be.

It's why Danny probably didn't notice. Thought his area was all there is. It's the standard "my neighborhood is the default. Normal for everywhere" mindset that people unknowingly tend to have before they travel much. It's not like he had any chance to learn otherwise.

He had school in the morning. Had to stick close in case a fight broke out. How FAR could he truely travel? The end of the metaphorical street? The next block over? The Far Frozen alone was pushing it!

But then! He defeats the Tyrant of his Area of the Zone. And it's like a map filling in, in the back of his head. Perfect outline of what's "his" and "not his". And??? Wait, wut?

Why is he not surprised the Observants fuckin Lied? Pariah wasn't King Of Everything! He was king of... *head starts to violently hurt as he tries to grasp the scale of things* ow, Ow, OW! Bad idea! BAD IDEA!!! A chunk? Yeah, big chunk! Let's go with that!

It was APPARENTLY like saying "ruler of the known world". Other countries very much still existed, just APPARENTLY didn't count. Good to know! AFTER THE FACT.

At least HIS territory likes the "Wooooo! Anarchyyyyyy!" Goverment model. Frees him up to do other shit. He can come back to it LATER. But FIRST? :) Get? :) The FUCK :) Off his lawn! :) *kicks everyone back through the portal* *closes it* AND STAY INSIDE THE ZONE!

Abuse of power? Sorry, he can't hear you over his magically recovering sleep schedule and GPA. The fact he might ACTUALLY graduate. His new favorite past time of watch the GIW slowly losing both their funding AND minds. Mmmmmm~ relaxing!

He graduates.

He is the son of crazy people with a shit GPA. His parents may have finally come around on ghosts, started over on their research... with a frankly ALARMING enthusiasm, but? You can't undo decades of damage. The Fenton name is untouchable.

He applies anyway.

Goes ghost for the first time in over a year.

Is... bigger. Starlight and ice. Royal. It feels right, settled in a way. More HIM then his skin could ever hope to be. He notes it, but doesn't linger. Decides to find out what's OUTSIDE "his" territory.

And...

Huh.

The answer depends?

In one direction? An endless battle. From horizen to horizon, like shooting stars. Crashing and smashing, weapons clanging and ringing. Mad blood stained grins. Worthy opponents. A challenge that goes on forevermore.

He...backs away slowly.

Going sorta, up-ish? Leads to a weirdly muted stillness. Muffled. He can't find anybody. But the doors here are pretty... worn. He doesn't want to keep pushing.

Finally, he tries at an angle to the right. And? Spots a patrol? They look nervous to see him, but hold their ground. He asks what's in this direction. Is polite. They look incredibly relieved.

Which is how Danny? Learns about the SINGLE BEST thing ever. The thing I actively fantasize about. Long for. And gift to him because I can.

Floating island cities FULL of highly specific little shops and passion pursuits. All for damn near free, because they are mostly doing it for THEM and you just happen to be there. The islands go one for days in every direction. Overflow with color and sound and the flash of ghosts flying too and frow.

Stunned, Danny, jaw on the floor. Wanders the streets.

Finds a space themed shop and feels his eyes dilate like a cat. Mine ™. He gets a book on "First Astronaut's of their Species" and some BESPOKE space meme socks. Looks around. Decides that this? This is where his doing ALL his shopping from now on.

He's pretty sure he sees a shop dedicated solely to canned food from across the Multiverse.

There is a sale on corn(non radioactive), apparently.

He tells EVERYBODY. Well, Fenton and friends "everybody". But you get the idea! The shopping trip they organize? Is legendary. His Father finds a Fudge shop and probably scares the local ghost population with his mad Fudge Glee cackling. Mom found a weapon smith. And an old fashion lace maker. Jazz? Lost to the world of intergalactic boy bands and psychology textbooks.

Tucker made a running slide straight for the nearest tech shop. Then the butcher. And Sam?

........m....maybe if he doesn't ask? He can claim plausible deniability?

@hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @hypewinter @lolottes @nerdpoe

#dp #danny fenton #danny phantom #minji's writing #Zone Shops Au #Shops of Wonder Au

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ghostofhyuck · 5 months

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NCT Dream pranking you that they forgot your anniversary.

Mark Lee

You're excited because your anniversary is today! It's not like you're anticipating for something spectacular but you expect that you and Mark are going to have a plan like a dinner date or something. That's why when you asked Mark about it, he replied you with the "why? is there something today?" and your world suddenly stopped. You tried to fake a smile and told him that it was nothing, excusing yourself to cry yourself in the bathroom but Mark pulled you immediately, "I was just pranking you babe, happy anniversary." you badly want to punch him there right now. He did apologize A LOT after, telling you that he'll make it up to you.

Huang Renjun

Renjun made an abrupt last minute text to you saying that he has a schedule today even though it was your anniversary. You felt like your world crashed seeing his text because you already told him to clear his schedule today because it's your anniversary! But a part of you doesn't want to be mad at him because he's an idol after all. So you finished your work and went straight home, but you were surprised when you saw that Renjun's sitting on your sofa, holding a huge bouquet of flowers. You were frozen when Renjun approached you, smiling as he greets you happy anniversary. You swear to God, you hate it when he pranks you that tears are forming from your eyes! Renjun apologizes and wipes your tears gently.

Lee Jeno

There has been a weird tension between you and Jeno. Today is your anniversary as a couple and though you wanted to celebrate it, you wanted Jeno to take the initiative, but it seems like it's a typical day for him, even casually telling you that you two just stay inside for the rest of the day. You started to act cold around him, trying to drop hints that you're mad or something and it didn't take a few hours for Jeno to understand it. He told you that he was just pranking you and he apologizes because it was a bad prank. He has to swoon you with hugs and kisses, so you just gave yourself in. Don't worry though, he already reserved a table for two at an expensive restaurant for later.

Lee Donghyuck

I think that Haechan wouldn't even last in his silly prank of forgetting your anniversary. You two would probably have a whole argument about it, something like, "seriously, what's with today? is it important? "Nice try Hyuck, I'm not falling for you pranks." it'll probably go on for HOURS because you're used to his teasings and pranks, and this time, you don't want to back down. It'll probably stop when he noticed that you're not really having any of it and is too tired to argue with him. He'll gave up, earning you a victory smile, and will greet you happy anniversary. Smothering you with a lot of kisses too!

Na Jaemin

Thinks that it was okay to pull a prank on you during your anniversary. So when you came over to his place, you tried to drop hints about today but it seems like Jaemin is so clueless about it and tried to brush it off. You ended up getting mad at him that you told Jaemin that you're leaving. That's when he realized that you're really mad, so he had a mini heart attack. He'll pull you and then started rambling, apologizing nonstop, probably took you hours of convincing to forgive him. He'll then pull a stunt where he drags you to his room and his bed is contains a lot of gifts for you! It'll be sweet and romantic, and fine you forgive him.

Zhong Chenle

I think that Chenle would probably win the prank. It'll be the type where he'll tell you dress up for a brunch date. And you're excited! a brunch date for your anniversary. He'll bring you to a cute coffee shop, order some nice food, and just enjoy the day. Probably at the end of the date, while you two are still inside the coffee shop, you'll pull out the gift that you bought to him and greets him happy anniversary. "Today's our anniversary?" he'll ask with a surprised look on his face. You'll probably feel embarrassed about it that you wanted to snatch the gift back but Chenle will grab your hands and laugh at you for minute, "I'm just kidding, happy anniversary love." and he also has a gift for you!

Park Jisung

Jisung would probably prank you by saying that he has practice today so he couldn't come to your place today, and it'll make you devastated because you were planning to cook dinner for him. You mustered the courage to ask him if he remembers what day is today, and he answered you with today's date, asking you why. You don't respond to him but you still went to the practice room because he asked you to. When you reached there, there's decors and a banner that says, "Happy anniversary!" and Jisung approaches you holding a bouquet while Dreamies are singing at the background. You couldn't believe it that you'll ended up ugly crying making Jisung panic as he comforts you, apologizing to you with Dreamies nagging and teasing him for making you cry.

#nct dream #nct imagines #nct dream fic #nct fic #nct x reader #nct #nct dream imagine #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct dream reactions #nct drabbles #nct dream imagines #nct mark #nct jeno #nct renjun #nct haechan #nct jaemin #nct chenle #nct jisung

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queenimmadolla · 1 year

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𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐲

(dad!eddie munson x mom!reader)

Summary: . . . You and your kids wake Eddie up with a surprise for Father's Day. warnings: fluff and Eddie being down bad for Reader 🤭, implications of baby making.

word count: 2k

more dad!eddie here

“'Shhh', mama?” Your four year old asked as she trailed behind you in the hallway.

“Yeah, we have to be quiet so you can wake daddy up with a surprise.” You were trying not to make too much noise with the flowers, wrapped in apparently the world’s loudest brown paper, hitching your nine-month old up higher on your hip.

Thank goodness neither of your kids were in a fussy mood, especially considering you’d gotten them up early after the terrible night before. Wayne had a new tooth coming in, he was absolutely miserable and your poor baby made sure to let everyone know. He’d been wailing most of the night and Eddie took it upon himself to soothe him, rubbing some baby friendly orajel along his gums, massaging them with fingers dipped in cool water, and offering frozen teething rings and plenty of comfort in the form of nonstop cuddles.

He hadn’t joined you in bed until the early hours of the morning, which worked out perfectly. Eddie had been dead asleep when you got up, squishing a pillow you’d planted in place of yourself to his chest.

Next came getting the kids ready, which was also surprisingly easy. Penny was pliant with sleep, letting you dress her without whining (she kept trying to lean forward so she could rest on you and go back to sleep—it was the cutest thing) and your baby was still soothed by Eddie’s remedies, letting out content coos as you changed his diaper and also got him ready.

After a quick trip to a music store downtown (and by quick you meant 45 minutes, Penny took delicate care in picking out another final gift for her daddy and told you not to rush her every time you’d ask her to hurry) and a stop at the flower shop, you arrived back home and it looked like Eddie still hadn’t stirred, which gave you time to make breakfast.

You’d sat Waynie in his high chair, gave him some cut up pieces of banana to gnaw on—which he did so as aggressively as possible—and went about making pancakes, eggs and bacon (which Eddie liked to devour until he felt ill).

Penny was of course your little helper, sitting on your lap while you assisted her with whisking the eggs in a bowl for Waynie’s scrambled eggs, and then perched on your hip to help you flip the pancakes. She’d insisted that Eddie’s pancakes all be heart shaped and you loved the idea, so after a couple of failed ones that would be on your plate, you eventually got it down and she wrapped her arms tightly around you in a hug for it.

Once breakfast was plated and the table was set, you gathered Wayne and the flowers while Penny carried Eddie’s decoy gift towards your bedroom.

Quietly, you opened the door and peaked in, smiling at Eddie’s sleeping form.

“Okay, let’s go wake him up. Shh.” You propped the door open for Penny to slip in before you and she grinned up at you, using her free hand to hold her finger to her lips, she’d be quiet.

She set the rectangular box on the end of the bed and then climbed on top while you sat Wayne down on the bed.

He was just starting to crawl, so he very shakily made his way towards Eddie—face planting quite a few times but it didn’t deter your baby.

Penny looked back at you for confirmation and you nodded in encouragement. That was all the permission she needed.

“Daddy! Daddy, wake up! It’s daddy’s day! Wakey, wakey!”

She poked and prodded at his side when he groaned and shifted onto his back, eyes squinting open. That wasn’t good enough for her, she moved to sit on him and Wayne finally reached him, using his dad’s shoulder to prop himself up enough to sit back on his bum while he let out a happy shriek, chunky little palms slapping eagerly at his dad’s face to do the trick.

Eddie made a face, nose scrunching up but you could see the smile curling on his lips, dimples appearing.

“Okay, okay! I’m awake! Stop the assault!”

Penny laughed as he sat up, which almost sent her sprawling on the bed but she caught herself on his leg. Eddie tutted, that wouldn’t do.

Eddie reached out and pushed her off of him and she laughed hysterically as she bounced against the mattress which made the two of you chuckle. For some reason your daughter loved to rough house with him.

Penny didn’t stay down for long, quickly crawling back up to lay down along the side of his pillow and Eddie turned his head to look at her after he’d gathered Wayne and sat him on his chest.

“Happy Fodder’s Day, daddy. You aw the best daddy in the whole wide everywhere.” She whispered to him, very seriously, and he leaned in to give her a smacking kiss on the nose.

“Thank you, baby.” His voice was raspy but you could detect the emotion under it. Eddie was so gonna choke up.

“You wanna give him his present?” You prompted her, and Eddie’s head darted in your direction, grin widening at the sight of you in his favorite dress.

“Oh, yeah!” Penny scurried to the end of the bed and knee-crawled back to Eddie, hands outstretched to offer him the rectangular box.

“What’s this?” He asked, tucking Wayne into his side so he could grab the box.

“You gots to open it, daddy.” Penny demanded, eagerly leaning in to stare at the box while he did.

“Sorry,” you both traded looks of amusement before he took off the lid and moved the tissue paper aside to reveal a new guitar strap; black and decorated with crossbone skulls. “This is for me?”

“Yeah!” Penny nodded her head ecstatically. “Mommy lemme pickeded it out!”

“Thank you so much, little pretty one.” Eddie moved his hand to the back of his daughter’s curly little head to bring it in so he could press a kiss to her forehead, then he turned to the baby at his side. “And you, too!”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the sweet smelling curls on his baby’s head. In return, Waynie started gnawing on his arm.

You sat on the side of the bed and pulled him away from Eddie’s arm. Your son looked at you, affronted, like you’d committed the ultimate crime until you held a pacifier to his lips. He eagerly gobbled it up and relaxed back against Eddie, once more content as he suckled.

“Penny, do you wanna go get the other thing?”

“Wha─?” She looked at you, confused for only a moment before her big brown eyes lit up. “YES, YES, YES!”

Penny quickly climbed off the bed and ran to her room, where you’d hidden it.

“What are you up to, trouble?” Eddie asked and you turned your head away from the doorway to find him looking at you, sleepy eyes clouded with love and affection as he reached a hand out to stroke along your exposed thigh.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’re trying to make me cry again, aren’t you?”

“Not me, no way. No how.”

“I GOS IT, MOMMY!” Penny ran back in, chin raised to peak over the box she carried. It wasn’t too heavy for her, just big.

She brought it over to you and you handed it to Eddie before pulling her up onto your lap as you watched him unbox it.

“I wonder what it could b—.” Eddie’s mouth parted just slightly as he pulled a small amp from the box. It wasn’t just any amp. It was an amp you’d sneakily picked up from the music store last week—he had a ton of amps sprawled around the apartment but Eddie’s favorite portable one had recently gone out on him.

The amp itself would have been a fantastic gift alone, but you’d taken a few extra steps to personalize it for him. You’d painted the black amp with a solid red background and then let Penny and Wayne paint whatever they wanted on it.

Penny had gone all out, making sure to paint her family holding hands on it, along with plenty of depictions of her dad, one of which was him wearing a cape because he was her hero and since Wayne was too little to use a paintbrush, his little hand and foot prints were on it.

On one of the sides was your initials (last name replaced with an ‘M’ to represent the Munson name you’d taken on when you’d married him) + EM 4Ever, tucked into a heart with Cupid’s bow shot through it.

“SUPISE! D’ya like it, daddy? I drews on it, and it got Waynie’s feets and hans.” Penny looked so proud of herself, smile nearly taking up her entire face.

Eddie sniffled and you hid your grin in Penny’s hair. You got him.

He licked his lips and cleared his throat to try and keep himself together but you could see the shine in his eyes when he raised them.

“I love it so much, baby girl.” He choked out, holding Wayne a little tighter to his side.

“You wanna give daddy a hug?” You whispered into her ear and she crawled off your lap to throw herself at Eddie, arms wrapping around his shoulders.

Eddie was careful to make sure Penny didn’t squish Wayne as he held her to his chest, eyes squeezing shut and his freehand cradling the back of her head.

“I luh you, daddy.” Penny mumbled, resting her cheek on his shoulder.

“I love you, pretty Penny.” He pressed a multitude of kisses to her curls as he basked in the moment before his eyes shot open and over to you. “What are you doing all the way over there? Get over here and give me some love.”

You affectionately rolled your eyes before you complied, lifting Wayne out of his arms and into yours to take his place tucked into Eddie’s side. Eddie demanded kisses the moment you were near, and because you loved him, you ignored his god awful morning breath and let him have his way.

His lips remained pressed to your temple, an arm slipped around your waist so he could lift the skirt of your dress, fingers tracing the words I love you along your thigh as Penny explained all her paintings in great, excessive detail.

Later, when you were all at the table eating the breakfast you and Penny had made, Eddie could barely get a bite in without staring at you. Wayne was in your arms, face pressed against your breast as he nursed (always did it before he ate solids), while Penny babbled to you about how fun cooking with you had been and how yummy it was as you helped her scoop up her food on her little fork.

Eddie knew Father’s Day was a day meant to celebrate him and essentially all the other fathers of the world, but he’d much rather appreciate you. You’d given him Penny and Wayne; his sweet (usually) little girl and his baby boy. Without you, he wouldn’t be able to be a part of this day, really.

Eventually, you felt the weight of his stare and looked up at him, gaze inquisitive.

“What?”

He just huffed out a gentle laugh, brown eyes warm and making a certain feeling stir in your belly, “Nothing. Thank you. For them.”

Eddie nods towards Wayne and Penny.

“Well, you definitely played a part in getting them here.” You mused, reaching a hand out to stroke over Penny’s curls.

Sure, you made them but it wouldn’t have been possible had Eddie not finished inside of you on a regular basis.

When you looked back at him, Eddie was smirking, his eyes were heavily lidded and darkening–his bedroom eyes. The warmth in them was simmering into something much more intense as he leered at you with absolutely no shame. Lustful.

You could feel yourself heating up, bashful nature hitting you full force as he nearly ate you alive with his gaze alone. You knew what was coming next, what he was about to say.

“Wanna make another one during nap time?”

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riacte · 1 month

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hermitcraft horror story staring false and ren in which it starts out as a fun silly haha world tour but after they pick up a bag at tango’s storage, they can’t find anyone— at least, anyone that can interact with them in some sort of meaningful way. hermits are afk, mysteriously run away, or turn mute. the world seems frozen in time— storages are empty, shops lack pricetags, creepers hide in doorways. no one talks to them. it’s like the world itself has stopped talking to them, the only sign of movement being the flicker on false’s multipass.

eventually things start getting Really Weird (weird even for their standards) so they hide in ren’s base and lock themselves in. the laika companion robot dog (that false gifted to ren) shows up for emotional support. something bad happens within the colony and they get separated, but they’re both able to navigate the colony (thanks to false’s multipass) and it’s a repeat of the house of nightmares lobby (aka. yelling out each other’s names repeatedly, except this time their voices bounce off empty corridors and echo eerily).

they find each other— or do they? BOOM imposter time (doctor who wild blue yonder style). false is instantly suspicious and keeps 10 blocks away from imposter ren (but she does this to the real ren anyway). ren is the complete opposite and goes omg false i found you :D let’s work this out together :DDD. imposter!ren desperately tries to convince the extremely paranoid false. meanwhile ren babbles to imposter!false who nods along. but false of course finds out the imposter is an imposter in a badass “the colonel calls me riza when we’re alone” way and instantly strikes. meanwhile our ren reveals he’s known the imposter false was fake from the start and was lulling her into a false sense of security so he could trap her (knowing he can’t beat her in pvp — this is also a reference to his demise 2 kill). false and ren reconcile. they also reconcile with the robot dog. and the space rats.

eventually they figure out a way to reset the server and turn it back normal with the power of twaddle and technobabble. the key ingredient is the macguffin— squirtiflora. and maybe chives. idk. anyways they twaddle their way back into reality because their back and forth twaddle feedback loop can break dimensions.

everything seems normal. they return the cursed bag to tango’s storage. they finally encounter a hermit (it does not matter who) and false and ren are too relieved to put on their salesman bit. it’s all smiles and giggles, the two leave, the hermit returns to their business. their smile fades. there’s an ominous pause.

false says bye to ren and returns to her base. the phantoms are still in their boats. maybe it’s a little quiet, or maybe it’s just the lack of ren.

unbeknownst to her, inside her pocket, her name on the multipass jolts. something flickers across the screen. then it powers off. her name is gone.

ren is cheerfully humming and making his way around his base and checking up on everything. but then something stops him in his tracks.

in sea of healthy plants, there is one dead plant— the first plant false created for him.

#[cartwhees around the room] YIPPPPEEEE #hermitcraft #hermitfic #ria.fic #idk I got possessed. blame ren and false #falsesymmetry #rendog

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theonewiththefanfics · 2 years

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The Layers of Thomas Shelby - Frozen Fear (one-shot)

Synopsis: Fear was an emotion Tommy elicited in others. He never thought he'd feel it himself. Not like that. Never like that...

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, slight fluff

Warnings: graphic descriptions of blood, injuries, kidnapping, swearing, death not sticking to canon whatsoever :)

Word count: 3028

Fear was something Thomas Shelby was intimately acquainted with. He elicited it and made others tremble to their very core with just a glance or a whisper of his name from someone else’s lips. Fear was as much a shadow in his life, as his daughter who followed him around wherever she could.

But fear was also what he felt in that exact moment as he stared at the bloodied napkin on his table, the silver locket he’d gifted Y/N when their child had turned one inside it, a simple note of “For Angel” attached to it.

Sadie was tight asleep on his chest when he’d received the damned box. Y/N had taken her to Ada’s so she could have the day to herself, get her body pampered, do up her hair and maybe spend a bit of money on some new shoes or a winter coat as a birthday present from him. If she’d asked, Tommy would’ve bought her the Eifel tower, and she’d bloody well deserve it. Valentine's was coming up, after all.

He was so proud of her. Despite the certain things that’d happened, he wouldn’t want anyone else to share a life with. She’d picked up the broken pieces Grace had left his heart in and mended it with gold. But gold didn’t matter at that moment when he didn’t know where she was. Where her body was.

When Frances had brought in the box that’d been left by the doorstep, Sadie had been softly snoring on his shoulder for the better part of an hour while he ran tired blue eyes over the logs of the previous week.

He thanked her, his voice a whisper to not stir his toddler, before cautiously examining the square. When he opened it, Tommy swore his heart stopped beating. Or he wished it did. Because it wasn’t like that time when Grace’s boyfriend had taken Y/N, or like that time she’d gotten mugged behind a shop. No. This time, he knew she was dead, and he wished he was too.

It took all of his self-control to ring up his brothers and tell them to get to Arrow House right that second. It took all of his restraint not to shout or scream, the only thing tethering him to earth and sanity his pride and joy asleep in his arms.

When Arthur and John got to his home office, Tommy simply threw them the note, his eyes trained on the small oval locket, thumb tracing the inscription upon it, smearing blood more and more over his own hands.

“Find her.” Those were the only words he uttered.

For a brief second, he’d glanced up and saw terror rush through the eyes of his brothers; he knew how much the two loved his wife, they loved her like they loved Ada and Polly, so without a second to spare, they ran back out, no doubt to gather every Blinder and search every nook and cranny while he clutched the brown-haired girl to his chest, the silver locket clutched in his other palm.

He wasn’t a religious man, didn’t even necessarily believe what his gipsy ancestors did or even his aunt Pol, but at that moment he turned his head to the ceiling and prayed to whoever might listen, old gods and new, Norse and Greek and Slavic – anyone that would hear his pleas.

Tommy thought back to every time Y/N had smiled at him, had laughed and filled his world with light. He even thought back to all those insane moments where he felt like his jaw would snap with how hard he’d been clenching it because of some stupid thing she’d done. He wished he’d appreciated those moments more because when two hours later Arthur came back to the house, the coat his wife had been wearing that morning in his hands, soaked and dripping freezing water onto the Turkish carpet, Tommy knew she was gone.

***

Her whole world consisted of cold, nothing else. It was the only thing she could feel, taste and sense. Was there anything to sense? Y/N didn’t know. She didn’t even fully believe her legs were still attached to her body, but somehow she was making her way across the field.

Time had become a concept she couldn’t comprehend, and the only thing that showed it had passed was the ever-changing position of the moon - her only companion through the long journey.

She had stopped shaking a while back, which it didn’t take her being a genius to know meant trouble if she didn’t find a way to get warm, but even that didn’t matter. Nothing but getting home did. If she had to die, she wanted to do it there, not somewhere in a ditch let alone beneath the frozen surface of the lake where Luka Changretta had dumped her.

He thought she’d been dead. He’d slit her throat, but not before ripping off the beautiful little necklace Tommy had gifted her.

“So he has something to remember you by,” the Italian mobster had given her a mocking smile before taking a knife from his side and slicing it across her neck.

The pain had been blinding, knocking all sense of reality out of her mind. She knew it would be the end. When her body lifted above the chair she’d been tied to, when her back greeted plush leather seats, her blood staining them forever. She knew she would die sooner or later. Then sweet blackness greeted her.

But death was a lot more painful than what it’d been described to be like in all the books she'd read and edited, especially the wound in her throat. Her breaths were white-hot knives dragging down her oesophagus and her lungs were on fire with each shallow take of air.

Through a haze, Y/N heard Italian being spoken before two rough hands grabbed her by the ankles and dragged her out of the car.

Her body hit the frozen ground with a thud, and it took every bit of remaining brainpower not to whimper from the pain. The winter air stung every piece of her body inside and out, caressing her with icy nails.

Slowly her mind was coming to, the cold sobering her up, but when someone took her wrists and another took her by the ankles, setting her flying, it was the frozen surface of the lake she cracked through that awoke her completely.

Y/E/C eyes flew open, murky depths of the water greeting her while every nerve and cell in her got shocked. Instinct told her to swim up, get a breath, and get out of the water before it pulled her under, but with the mightiness of a Norse goddess, Y/N suppressed all that and allowed the lake to gently pull her down, and her mind finally started to understand what’d happened.

They thought she was dead and decided to throw her body in some lake, probably hoping it would freeze over before she floated to the top and would remain that way until the very spring, prolonging the pain for her family.

The thought of her family grieving her was the only thing keeping Y/N from not trashing below the still surface. Instead, she slowly slipped her arms out from the coat and let it move to the top, while she sunk lower and lower.

Soon enough her feet touched the slimy earth below, which is when she once more opened her eyes and glanced up. There wasn’t really anything to see, apart from the light of the moon streaming in through the broken place where her body had been thrown and two retreating headlights.

Y/N waited two more seconds her whole being in shock and begging to get out and away from the cold when she pushed upwards and broke the surface. She gulped the air down in greedy takes, not caring about her split neck or the trembling of her body - at that moment all she cared for was air.

Her teeth were chattering so hard she pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth, afraid it might get caught between them and she’d bite it off. Swishing her head around, she looked if the ice had broken anywhere else. Out. She needed to get out. And to whatever god had taken pity on her after everything, underneath a small makeshift pier where kids would come and fish, the ice had cracked right to the very edge.

She knew every second spent in the water was a second closer to hypothermia, so as quick as her frozen limbs would allow, she swam to the land. It was a hand’s stretch away when another pair of headlights came into view. Y/N cursed and instead of getting out of the lake, she ducked underneath the wooden planks, pressing a palm to her mouth, so whoever it was wouldn’t notice the air steaming up in the air from her mouth.

Her ears were ringing, so Y/N couldn’t hear whatever the men were talking about, only see how they fished out her coat and took it with them. They left another minute later, and she swore at whoever it was for costing it to her. Home. She needed to get home and fast, but she couldn’t be seen, couldn’t let Changretta know he’d half-assed her murder and she’d survived. He wouldn’t do so again, so Y/N waited another bone-chilling minute, checking if any car passed by again.

And then she got out, her dress clinging to her body, hair against her face, matted with seaweeds and blood, one heel of her boot snapped off – a wraith come to life and ready to haunt.

The first step was agonising, and Y/N collapsed underneath her weight, needles piercing her feet. Her knees bruised and scraped raw against the stony earth as did her hands, but she welcomed the pain, let it ground her, and used it to remind herself – pain meant she was alive. No pain would be the real problem.

Y/N wrapped her hands around her body, digging her nails into her biceps, each step an arduous labour. Small pebbles cut the soles of her feet; she’d lost her shoes somewhere along the way; her bones ached from the very inside and each breath was a task, the wound in her neck, although scabbed over, split with every small movement, small streams of blood trickling down and staining her white dress.

Lights were visible in the distance, even as her vision blurred more and more, the small bright dots becoming stretched-out beams before everything tilted and she was staring up at the sky.

The stars were magnificent, she thought. You couldn’t really see them shine like that in the city. Even with Arrow House being further away from the centre, the beauty of it didn’t compare to that of the open field.

Her mind went back to Tommy, to how they met, how they used to bicker about every single thing and to that first morning she’d woken up beside him and instead of finding his pillow cold, a strong arm had been wrapped around the middle, his nose hidden in her hair.

Neither mentioned it a few hours later at breakfast, but it’d been the day things slowly had started to shift. Then she’d gotten shot, and the switch had completely been flipped. All those glances they’d shared, the soft smiles and tiny touches were no longer hidden, but out on full display. His hand now always gravitated to touch any part of her, they fell asleep facing one another, most times Y/N using Tommy’s chest as a pillow. And then someone else came along and used his chest as a pillow, his heartbeat as a lullaby and his eyes as the ocean to pull them in and never let go.

She’d been scared to become a mom, but even with that, she’d never seen Tommy so absolutely terrified. When Y/N had gone into labour, she thought he would pass out, but he swallowed the fear and stayed with her. Despite Ada being adamantly against a man being present during “women’s business”, she’d threatened to break her neck if she so much as looked at Tommy, Polly snorting beside her.

“He put me in this position, and by God, he will be here,” Y/N had sneered at her sister-in-law before a contraption rippled through her body and she almost crushed her husband’s hand.

But then the pain went away and a small wriggling person was placed on her chest. She’d never seen Tommy fully break down before that.

“Huh,” Ada had shrugged. “So he does have a heart.”

She’d promptly received a smack from Polly and Y/N for that comment, but Tommy had chuckled.

“No, I don’t.” He’d leaned in and pressed a kiss to his wife’s temple. “These two stole it a long time ago.”

After that day, it wasn’t uncommon to find Tommy either in his office or even in their bed with Sadie sound asleep on his chest. She just about melted each time.

But now all that stared back at her was the cloudless winter sky. Y/N wanted to sob at the thought she’d never see Tommy’s blue eyes anymore or fix the way Sadie’s curls framed her face, but every little movement was agonising, so she just laid there, staring at the cosmos and waiting for that black void to get her.

***

When Y/N came to she was confused as to why there was so much yelling when being dead, why her head was pounding and her body was racked by violent shivers.

“You undressed my fucking wife!” A deep voice boomed from somewhere very far away it seemed while at the same time, the noise echoed in her skull, rattling her brain.

“Oh, would you have liked me to have left her in that frozen fucking dress?” A deep, gruff one replied. “She was already hypothermic, but by all means, you’d rather no one saw her in her knickers than be alive.”

“Shut your fucking mouth, Solomons!”

That name being said snapped her eyes open, which was a big fucking mistake, as even the warm light from a candle by the bed and from the fireplace was enough to make Y/N feel like she was looking directly at the sun and burning her retinas.

Another horrible shiver went through her frame, her teeth chattering nonstop. Pins and needles were running all over her skin and Y/N curled up in a ball as if trying to not let any of the heat she’d managed to get back escape, but that only made her feel more pain, a groan escaping her mouth. That small noise was enough though for the door to be busted open and for two men – one lean and tall, the other a burly, beard-covered menace to rush inside.

Tommy was by her in an instant, a careful palm placed on her cheek.

“Don’t try to talk,” his own voice was that of a whisper. “The wound’s pretty rough.”

If it didn’t feel like it’d hurt like hell, Y/N would’ve just rolled her eyes, but all she could do was squeeze them shut as shivers went through her body. When Tommy saw that, he was instantly on his feet, going for the fireplace and adding more logs to the dwindling flames.

When he turned around, Y/N had slid her shaking hand from underneath the duvet and extended it to him, a silent plea for him to come back.

It didn’t take much more than that for Tommy to take off his jacket and suit, not caring about the company in the room, his trousers following until he was in his breeches, sliding into the bed, wrapping her frozen body with his own warmth.

A groan escaped her mouth, as she clung to him, Tommy releasing a string of expletives when sensing just how cold Y/N actually was.

“Bloody hell, woman,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to her forehead and tucking her face into the crook of his neck.

Gently, he intertwined her legs with his, and his fingers went to card through her matted strands, the motion more so calming him down, than her.

He’d put their daughter in bed after calling for Polly to come, with the thought Y/N was dead, his whole being a numb void. He’d thought the only time he’d ever get to see her again was after her body was found, that was if it’d be in a recognisable condition, so he’d take her frozen feet against his calves, her cold lips against his chest and stiff fingers digging painfully in his sides, as long as it meant she was alive.

At some point, after Alfie and Tommy exchanged words, Solomons left, and they spent the whole night and early morning like that, tangled in one another until Y/N was no longer cold or more appropriately would snap her tongue off if she so much as opened her mouth. She still couldn’t speak despite how Alfie had cleaned and stitched the wound in her neck, but she could write.

Alfie had brought a pen and paper upon Tommy’s request so they could communicate and the first and only word she scribbled was “home”.

“We’ll go home soon,” Tommy promised. “Arthur’s just… taking care of a few things.”

To that Y/N just nodded; she didn’t need any more explanations.

She took the pencil again and flipped to a new page. “Alfie has shitty sheets.”

Tommy chuckled, tightening the grip he had around Y/N’s waist. “He does, doesn’t he? You’d think the fucker could afford silk by now. Did he even change them before he put you in the bed?”

She just smiled and nuzzled closer to Tommy pressing her no longer cold nose to his chest and breathing in his scent, as he cradled her nape.

Y/N could hear the rapid thuds of his heart. When he'd first joined her in the bed, it'd been racing like one of his horses, stuttering and trying to find a beat, but now it was a steady song, matching her own.

No longer were they afraid.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @m-a-t-91 @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @lestersglitterglue @im-squished @strangersstranger

Thomas Shelby tags: @datewithgianni @captivatedbycillianmurphy @screemqueen @mrsmalfoyshelby @theamuz @lyarr24

A/N: sooo, it's been a while, hasn't it? Just wanted to drop something for the upcoming Valentines :)

P.S. hope you liked this :)

P.S.S. please don’t plagiarise my work and repost it/ translate it on other platforms (wattpad etc). re-blogs are very welcome

5K notes · View notes

sopebubbles · 1 year

Text

Master List

Thirteen

Synopsis: in a world where alphas, betas, and omegas live along side modern humans as second class citizens, you've fallen through the cracks of a society that wants to take everything wonderful from you. Luckily a timely encounter with the boys just might save your life.

Chapter summary: hobi and tae take you on a shopping trip, many long awaited events follow

Warnings: insecurities, trying on clothes, mentions of death

WC: ~5k

Your t-shirt grated against your skin as you got dressed for the day. Just like being around saps and their sour scents, you had gotten used to the roughness of cheap cotton against your sensitive skin. You rarely thought about it anymore except on rare occasions when your senses were heightened or you felt overwhelmed. But Hobi had stocked your bathroom with all the best hygiene products an omega could buy, and after two full weeks of living there and properly nourishing your body inside and out, it was like you could feel every fiber of the fabrics you came into contact with.

Last night you had been so bothered by the shirt you normally slept in that you shucked it off in frustration, only to find how delicious the soft blanket Yoongi had gifted you on your first night felt across the expanse of your body. It was hard enough to get out of bed because of it, but putting on your regular scratchy clothes seemed like a punishment. You didn't have to work today, maybe you could just strip down and get back in the nest. With a sigh, you accepted the discomfort. Hobi was already downstairs and you wanted to join him more than you wanted to be comfy.

After thudding down the stairs, you realized Hoseok wasn't the only one in the kitchen. You forgot that since you had a day off due to a boring national holiday, so did Jin and Namjoon. Yoongi, Jimin and Jungkook were all still at work, but Tae and Hobi were seated at the kitchen table with the two large alphas.

"Good morning, sleepy head," Taehyung smiled. He found some kind of satisfaction in being awake before you for once.

You grumbled something unintelligible as you looked at the men in the room you wanted to enter. You were suddenly very annoyed about the bank holiday that had ruined your morning plans with Hoseok. Why did you sleep so long?

"Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the nest," the omega teased over the rim of his coffee mug.

You looked at him for a moment, feeling unsure of yourself and what to do in their presence. It was incredibly rare in the weeks you'd been officially living with them that you were around either one of them without Yoongi or Jimin there. Spending time around Tae had gotten comfortable quickly after you saw how close he was with Jimin. And if you weren't with Jimin and Tae, it was Hobi and Tae. You'd realized after only a few days that he was harmless, more a puppy than an alpha, sweet and playful, loving attention, but also disinterested and unobtrusive. When he was around, he was funny, welcoming and gentle. But seeing the four of them sitting together felt like walking in on a pack meal. You were an outsider. Your feet wanted to carry you back up the stairs.

Should've just stayed in the nest.

"Do you want me to make you something to eat?" Hobi asked, eyes carefully taking in your frozen form.

"No, that's okay," you said very softly.

"You know you should eat something, pup," he pushed and watched you begin to fidget in a way he now recognized as anxiety in you.

"Yeah, but I'll get it." You walked carefully, stepping as close to the counter and as far from the alphas as you could to get inside the kitchen.

Jin and Namjoon hadn't done anything in particular to threaten or intimidate you, and you knew nothing of the conversation that Yoongi had with them on the day you joined his pack, but they hadn't begun to look any less deadly in your eyes. Although Yoongi didn't talk about it, you could sense the tension that lingered between him and the alphas, and so you stayed wary and did your best to stay out of their way, and whenever possible, out of their line of sight.

Now you skirted around them to get to the refrigerator, but honestly you were feeling too nervous about it to eat. You stared into the fridge, zoning out until Hoseok called you back to the moment.

"Is something wrong, pup?" He asked, frowning when he saw the way you jumped when you heard his voice.

You closed the refrigerator without taking anything out and scratched your arm under your shirt as you moved to a farther corner of the kitchen. "I'm fine. Just a little…uncomfortable."

Hobi looked around at the three alphas sitting with him before he stood up and put his body between them and you, subtly so they didn't know what he was doing, but you had an idea. He turned to you with soft, slightly apologetic eyes. "Don't worry, pup. Yoongi will be home in a few hours. Until then I'll make sure nothing–"

"Oh, no," you interrupted. "It's not…well yeah it is, but…it's just that my damn shirt is so irritating. All of my shirts are. It's like I can feel every fiber rub against every cell of my skin. It's so– ugh!"

Hobi's entire face shifted to one of delight. "Finally!"

You gave him a puzzled look as you scratched under your collar. "What?"

"I've been waiting to be able to take you on a shopping trip! All your clothes are much too rough for you. It's time for an upgrade!"

"Oh. No, you don't have to do that!"

Hobi clicked his tongue at you. "Don't you listen? I want to."

"I'm in!" Tae agreed, getting up from the table.

"As if you have a choice. You're driving," Hobi replied.

"Of course. You need my car, and my credit card," Tae grinned playfully.

Your stomach turned. "Oh no. Don't do that. I have money. I've been saving up." You had been saving up to get a place to live, and now that you'd solved that problem, you had a bit of cash. Not much, but enough to buy a few new things.

"Nonsense. Neither of you are paying," Hoseok told you.

"What do you mean?"

The omega rolled his eyes. "We will swing by and get your alpha's card so he can pay."

You picked at your fingernails. "No, we can't. He's busy and I can–"

"Hobi's right," Jin said suddenly, standing to put a hand on Hobi's shoulder. "Yoongi would want to pay and," he turned his eyes on Taehyung, "I can only imagine what he would want to do to you if he found out you tried to provide clothes for his omega."

Taehyung ducked his head as if he could imagine Yoongi giving him a smack. "Okay, we'll stop by and see Yoongi."

"Mm, but what if he's busy. Won't he be mad? I don't want to bother him."

Hobi shook his head at you and grabbed your hand to stop you from picking at your nails. "He could never be bothered to see you, let alone mad. You really have no idea how you have him wrapped around your finger. Come on. Let's go. No time to waste," he said, already pulling you toward the door while Taehyung fetched his keys. "We'll be back in a few hours," he told Jin as you put on your shoes.

"Have fun," the man grinned as he watched the two of you leave, enjoying the light in Hoseok's eyes as he took you out to play.

"I guess I'll text him to let him know we're coming," you said as you got into the back seat.

"No! It will be more fun if it's a surprise!" Hobi insisted.

"But I'm supposed to let him know when I go out."

Hobi sighed. "Gosh, you are such a goody two shoes sometimes. It will be fine. You're with us."

It was a slow day for Yoongi. The morning had been quiet. They hadn't been called out in hours, and although it was nice not having to deal with any emergencies, it was the worst kind of boredom. Yoongi had just been playing games on his phone. He wanted to text you and see what you were up to, but he didn't know what to say and he didn't want to annoy you. But he felt restless. So he was thrilled when he saw the minivan pull up to the ambulance station. When he saw you hop down from the backseat, his heart skipped a beat.

"What brings you here?" He wondered, coming out to meet you as the three of you approached the open bay door.

"We're on a mission," Hoseok informed him. "Pup needs some new clothes." You blushed.

"Oh, that sounds good. Anything special?" Yoongi smiled. He secretly loved it when you got shy.

"Wouldn't you like to know. Just hand over your credit card," Hobi grinned.

You whined. "You don't need to do that. I have money," you insisted.

Yoongi smirked as he pulled his wallet from his back pocket and plucked a silver card from inside. "You don't need to spend your money on this. I've got it." He held the card out to Hobi without taking his eyes off you, and the omega put it directly in his own wallet.

"Told you, pup."

"Yoongi," you began another whine.

He stepped forward to cut you off. "Who?" He asked with mischievous eyes and a deep but quiet growl.

"Alpha," you breathed and looked at the concrete. "You really don't–"

Your words ceased when his fingertips met your cheek. He pushed the hair behind your ear, his warm fingers reaching around the shell of it and back under your jaw to lift your chin. He looked into your eyes while he spoke in his soft deep voice, sending a shiver down your spine. "I want to. It's my duty and my honor to provide for you. You're my omega, aren't you?"

You nodded. "Yes, alpha."

"Good, princess. I want you to get anything and everything you want. Don't worry about a thing. Just get what feels good and show me later, alright?"

His fingertips still held your jaw lightly, but you nodded again. "Okay."

Before he let you go, he pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that managed to be both passionate and chaste. He's kissed you many times since the first time, but never any further than this. He often gave you soft kisses on your forehead or cheeks, sometimes a quick peck on the lips. Usually these kisses were reserved for when he had to say goodbye. He longed for more, but he was happy with what he had. More would follow, he was sure, and he was afraid if he was too impatient about it that meant he didn't feel secure that you wanted to stay, so he held himself back and tried to have faith. But he didn't know if he would last much longer. He felt that maybe you were ready for more too. A time would come very soon when he'd push that boundary again.

He pulled away and basked in leaving you breathless. "Have fun," he commanded before letting you stumble back toward the van, a stupid grin plastered across his face.

The pit returned to your stomach when Taehyung pulled to a stop in front of a fancy looking boutique. You never would've even looked in the window of a place like this while passing by. The thought of the price tags had a whine building in your throat.

"Relax, pup," Hoseok soothed, looking back at you. "It's not as fancy as it seems, I promise. But they cater to omegas. Everything they sell is designed for comfort. This should solve your problems."

"Fine," you groaned.

"Oh, one more thing," Taehyung said as you finally unbuckled your seatbelt. "When we're in there people will probably assume I'm your alpha. Just let them. It will keep you safe."

You started to protest. Only Yoongi had the right to call himself your alpha. But you could also see the wisdom of his advice. And no one needed to know anyway. If their wrong assumptions could make you safer, then so be it. You nodded and climbed out of the van.

When you walked inside Tae held the door open as Hobi went in before you, and then he followed behind.

"Good morning. Welcome to Euphoria," a woman behind the cash register greeted as she came out to meet you. "Is there anything I can help you with today?"

Tae stepped closer behind you, feeling an instinctive need to cover you. He might call it stranger danger. Normally he felt it when he encountered alphas, but occasionally with larger betas, like Jungkook, only he met Jungkook before he developed a real fear of strangers. But most of all he felt it with saps. This woman was none of the above. She was just an ordinary, non-threatening omega. But then, this time he wasn't feeling anxious for himself, only for you. How strange.

There hadn't been any reason until now for him to be out in public with you, but he wasn't expecting to feel this protective. You weren't even his omega, as had been made so abundantly clear this morning. But you were so in need of his protection, and you were practically a part of his pack, no matter what anyone said. From Taehyung's point of view it was only a matter of time. If the others got to feel half of what he felt right now—the way he needed to be there for you in the least threatening of places—then the only thing standing between you and the seven of them was, well you.

Hoseok, as usual, took the lead, stepping closer to the store clerk, which noticeably did not set off alarm bells in Tea's. "My girl here needs some new clothes. I'm thinking some comfortable pajamas and some things she can wear under her clothes for work. Just some basics."

The woman peered around Hobi to get a better look at you and Tae had the urge to pull you back by your shirt to stand behind him. "You're a petite little thing, aren't you?" She said with her professional smile.

You stepped back into Taehyung and let your hair fall in your face, and his heart began to race. Were you actually seeking shelter from him? Or did you just stumble into him because you were shy? He didn't have time to think it through before he put a steadying hand on your shoulder. But when he did, you didn't pull away or act surprised.

"That's okay, sweetheart. I think we have some things in our juniors section that will fit you."

Taehyung chuckled and you looked up at him with huge eyes and dark cheeks. "It's cute. Everyone thinks it's cute that you're so small," he said to placate you.

"I'm not cute," you grumbled as you followed Hoseok, who followed the woman down the wide aisle that led to the back of the store. "I'm a grown woman."

"Sure, if you don't get too hung up on the grown part," he teased.

"You're a gigantic freak, but you don't see me making fun of you for it," you fired back.

"I'm not making fun! And I'm not gigantic. I'm not Namjoon. I'm perfectly normal sized for an alpha." He straightened his back, not afraid of appearing a few inches larger and looming over you.

"Thank god," you said under your breath.

"You know he's harmless, right?" Tae asked softly. "As harmless as me."

"None of you are harmless," you muttered, but Tae heard and only smiled.

"We'll just look around for a bit," Hoseok told the store clerk.

"Sure. Let me know if you need any help," she said and walked briskly away.

Looking around at the many racks of clothes, you started to feel a little bewildered. You hadn't been in a store like this since you were a kid, when your mom would take you on a one yearly trip to the nearest city to buy clothes before school would start and only if you hadn't outgrown the ones she'd bought the year before. Since then, it had been strictly second hand stores for you, and you wore black as much as possible because it wouldn't look as dirty as lighter clothes.

"What are you thinking?" Hobi asked as he watched you take in the selection without seeing anything at all.

"I don't know where to start," you admitted.

He hummed. "They do have a good selection. You can take a minute to just look around. What's your style? Maybe I can help."

You sighed. "I don't really have a style."

"Well, if you did, what would it be?"

You continued to look overwhelmed, unable to answer even that seemingly simple question.

"Listen, Y/N," Hobi drew your attention to him with a soft hand on your shoulder. "Whatever you wore before to express yourself, to hide yourself, to try to be whoever you were trying to be…that's in your past life. This is your new life. You should just feel like yourself in your clothes."

You pursed your lips. What he said made sense, but it didn't change the fact that you didn't know who you were supposed to be in this new life. What did you feel like? And how did that translate into clothes?

Finally, Hoseok had an idea. "Let's do this. You can go try on some pajamas, and Taehyung and I will pick out some things for you to try to help you get some direction. Sound good?"

You nodded your head, grateful for the instruction.

Hopefully he isn't getting tired of helping us.

You picked out a couple of cute and exquisitely soft pjs and took them to the fitting room. The first one was so instantly soothing to you skin you didn't want to take it off. By the time you'd tried on the second one Hobi was knocking on the door. You opened it partially to look at him.

"These are just some basics, some undershirts and stuff so you can pick what fabrics and colors you like," he told you ask he pushed a stack of folded shirts into your arms. "Those are cute by the way. Lets get them," he decided after getting a look at the blue silk shorts and tank top set you were wearing. "Try those on. We'll be back."

Hobi had set Taehyung on a mission to find different styles and colors so that you could narrow down what you did and didn't like, and Tae had taken on the assignment with enthusiasm. Inasmuch as fashion was just another form of art, Taehyung was going to making you a piece of art and use the whole color pallette to do it. He and Hobi filled their arms with shirts, skirts, jeans, t-shirts, sweaters and more in every color of the rainbow before they came back to knock on your door.

"I really love this fab–" your jaw dropped when you opened the door to see both men with their arms full. "Am i going to try on the whole store?"

"Don't be silly. Once we get an idea of what style works for you then we can move on to picking out colors."

"Let me in. I'll organize these really quick," Tae said, pushing into the small dressing room with you. You pressed yourself against the wall, eyes going wide.

"Taehyung, you're overstepping and scaring the pup," Hobi said calmly.

Tae froze and looked down at you sheepishly. "S-sorry. I wasn't thinking. I'll just–" he forced the hangers on the closest hooks and stepped outside of the cubicle.

From beyond the door he began instructing you which items went together as you tried on each ensemble, coming out to model each time for them. Many of them were too flashy or too formal or too revealing for your taste—although taehyung managed to convince about a couple of crop tops when Hobi agreed they didn't show too much of your stomach. You ended up with several pairs of what looked like jeans but weren't as scratchy as the denim you were used to, a couple of soft cashmere sweaters and the tops.

"What kind of weird fantasies were you playing at, Tae?" Hobi asked while you changed into your own clothes.

"Shut up. I wasn't." The alpha crossed his arms and pouted.

"You used to have a thing for goth girls, didnt you, tae tae?" He teased.

"Maybe. That's not weird. You're the one who said to try different styles."

"So you went with schoolgirl?"

"Don't talk to me."

"And that red dress really didn't suit her figure."

"Well, Hobi, I don't know as much about her figure as you do," Tae countered.

"No, you don't," Hobi smirked, because he enjoyed having something over the rest of them.

"You guys know I can hear you, right?"

Taehyung sulked. "You know who she looked like though?"

Hoseok rolled his eyes because yes, he noticed your style was similar to the casual style that Yoongi enjoyed. Not the sweats and lounge wear that the others tend to favor, but comfortable denims and sweaters. It had concerned him at first, thinking that maybe you were trying to blend with your alpha, but he could see you truly felt more comfortable and happy that way.

You finished changing and left the cubicle with the clothes you had liked best. It felt heavy in your arms beyond the weight of the fabric. Hoseok could read your thoughts on your pouted lips without you saying a word.

"Where's the green dress?"

You shrugged. "I don't need it."

"You don't have any dresses and you might want it when Yoongi takes you on another date," he told you.

"Really, Hobi, this is already too much. The dress is too nice."

He stepped forward and took the clothes from your arms, pushing them into Taehyung's hands before he cupped your cheek.

"It's not too much, pup. You barely have enough clothes to get you through the week and none of them fit you properly. These things aren't luxuries, Y/N. You need them, and that makes it his duty to provide. Do you understand?"

You closed your eyes. "No."

"Then remember that Yoongi told you it was his pleasure to buy it for you. He wouldn't like you feeling guilty or not buying something that looked so lovely on you." You hated that he could always pull that card with you, knowing you wouldn't want to disappoint your alpha. You sighed as Hoseok walked around you into the stall you just left to fetch the silky green dress that had his and Tae's jaws on the floor. Then he walked out with Taehyung leaving you to trail behind.

"You probably need some new underwear, too," Hoseok said as he passed the section.

"Absolutely not!" You protested loudly and then dropped your voice into a whisper. "I'm not letting Yoongi buy me lingerie."

Hoseok rolled his eyes. "It's not lingerie. It's just panties."

"Whatever! No!" You hissed and walked past him. "Let's just go."

When your back was to him, Hobi quickly grabbed several pairs of silky, lacey briefs and hid them under the dress in his hands as he followed you to the register.

"Don't sulk," Taehyung chided as he stood close to you, a few feet from the register while Hoseok paid. You didn't want to see the total. "I promise you, Yoongi is probably smiling like an idiot right now, happy beyond reason."

"What makes you think that?" You mumbled.

"Because I would be. Any good alpha would be happy knowing they could give you something you needed. And you do need them, if for no other reason than to feel comfortable. And for Yoongi, with you, I know it means even more."

You looked at him sidelong. "That's silly."

He shrugged. "Maybe so, but that's alphas."

"All set," Hobi smiled with a large store bag on each hand.

You hadn't realized how long your little shopping trip had taken, but it was after noon by the time you got back to the pack's house, and that meant Yoongi was home. Your heart couldn't decide whether to skip at the excitement of seeing him or to race with the worry that he would be more upset about your extravagance than his other pack realized. You weren't as in tune with Jungkook's schedule, but when you saw his cruiser parked in front of the house, that made you happy, too.

The cheerfulness of Hobi and Tae clashed immediately with the dark cloud that hung in the living room where the rest of the alphas sat with Jungkook. Yoongi had already showered, looking serious with his dark, wet hair brushed back from his face.

"What's happened?" The elder omega asked as he set the bags of clothes aside and entered the living room. "Jin?"

"It's okay, baby," Jin assured him before Hobi's mind could start to wander. "Jungkook just brought us some…" he choked on the word bad, "news."

"What is it?" You asked.

Yoongi met your eyes and held out a hand to you. "Y/N, come here."

You didn't hesitate to go to him and he pulled you between his legs to sit on his knee. His hand felt warm where it cupped your hip, his fingers pressing into you in a gesture that was oddly soothing. Then he looked at Jungkook.

The beta took a deep breath and looked at his fingertips where they met before he looked up at you. "We got news this morning that your alpha–" A low growl emanated from Yoongi's chest. "That Sebastian was determined to be in a vegetative state from which there was practically no possibility that he would ever wake. In accordance with his wishes, his wife terminated life support this morning."

You heard Hoseok's gasp, but your breathing stopped altogether. You stood up, but Yoongi's hand was reluctant to let you go. Still, you stepped away from the safety of his presence and walked a few places toward the staircase. Although you had wanted—prayed—for years that you'd never see him again, you never thought it would be your actions that would make that happen. And now that it's true and he can never see you or touch you again it doesn't do anything to diminish your fear.

Got what he deserved. And so will you.

"Did I…does that…did I kill him?" You asked after an agonizing minute of silence for the others.

Yoongi was on his feet already, hands outstretched to comfort you, following your movements as you paced. "Sweetheart, no."

"Are you here to arrest me?" You asked, looking to Jungkook.

Jungkook stood as he shook his head. "No, Y/N. Nothing is happening right now, legally speaking. It's up to the DA, and to his wife, as to what happens next. Right now we just have to wait and see. But speaking for myself, not as a cop, you didn't kill him, Y/N. You didn't do anything wrong," he tried his best to assure you.

But it didn't do any good. You were already beginning to hyperventilate. When your knees gave way, Yoongi was there to catch you. He swept you up in his arms and held you close, whispering soothing words in your ear, but they didn't stop you from sobbing into his neck.

"Yoongi, I think you should take her up to her nest," Hoseok said quietly.

He didn't wait a second before he whisked you up the stairs and down the hall to your room. He set you down in the center of your nest that you had made the night before, lingering just outside the perimeter, desperate to follow you in. But he wouldn't without permission. He couldn't.

You stared up at his with large watery eyes, looking utterly lost. He brushed back the hairs sticking to your damp cheeks.

"What do you want me to do, princess?"

You swallowed back the saliva gathered in your throat and sobbed. "I want you to hold me," you cried. "But you can't because I'm bad. And they're going to want me gone."

Yoongi shook his head. "No one is taking you anywhere without me, princess. If you want me to hold you…"

"You still want me?"

"More than ever," he breathed.

"Then will you come in my nest, alpha?"

He was beside you before you finished your question. He laid you down so that your face was in his chest, his arms and legs wrapped protectively around you like a shield.

"No getting rid of me now," he smiled into your hair as your sobs lessened and you nuzzled into him. Your tears were still flowing, but they weren't violent things anymore.

"Even if I'm a murderer?" You wondered so quietly he couldn't have had you if he wasn't right there, his breathe got against your forehead.

"Not even if you were a serial axe murderer," he grinned. You chuckled wetly in spite of yourself. "But you aren't a murder, Y/N. You didn't do anything wrong that night. You have to know that. This is just…karma." He ran his fingers through your hair, pleased when you relaxed against him.

"What if I wanted him dead?"

"Then I'd guess you'd be on a long list of people. He was a dirtbag. I've wanted him dead since the moment I learned of his existence. Does that make me a murderer?"

"No. You saved him."

Yoongi nodded. "Yeah, but if I had known who he was, I don't know what I would have done. As soon as I found out who he was, I wished I had a time machine, so I could go back and let him bleed out on the street. But then I realized how stupid that was. If I had a time machine then I would go back to before he hurt you and save you instead."

"It's a good thing you didn't let him die. Then you'd be the one in trouble," you frowned.

Yoongi tucked your head under his chin. "You're not in trouble. I'm not going to let anything happen to you. You're mine to protect now. Do you believe I can do that?"

You nodded, dragging your nose against his sternum. "Good. Then just close your eyes and rest a bit. Everything is going to be okay."

"You're not going to throw me out, right?"

He held you tighter, almost crushing you. "Never. You don't have to be good here, Y/N. You just have to be here."

His scent thickened around you, soothing your nerves, and you closed your eyes as the last of the tension left your body and you soon fell asleep.

The pack kept quiet while you slept, a silent offering of peace. But none of them left. None of these alphas would step one foot outside of the house of a distressed omega, even if you weren't technically theirs. Hoseok washed your new clothes and put them away, careful not to wake you or Yoongi, who had fallen asleep tangled around you.

When Jimin came home and heard the news, he went straight to your bedroom and climbed in on the other side of you. Yoongi looked at him in horror.

"Relax. She let me cuddle with her for a while a couple nights ago," Jimin told him. "I didn't say anything because I didn't want to make you jealous."

But Yoongi wasn't jealous. He was glad, both that you'd gotten that close with Jimin and that he could be here for you now. "Good," Yoongi whispered as Jimin settled along your back and looked into his worried eyes like a mirror.

"Everything is gonna be okay," Jimin whispered back. "Right?"

Yoongi nodded. "We'll get her through it. Whatever happens." He pressed a soft kiss to your hairline and closed his eyes again.

When you woke up a little while later you were laying half on Jimin's chest, his gentle lavender filled your nose. You moaned softly, wondering where Yoongi went. He didn't let you wonder long. You heard his phone lock before he rolled over and you felt his nose at the back of your neck.

"Hey sleepy head," he murmured.

"Mmmm," you mumbled against Jimin's chest. "Sorry."

"Don't be," he said as he stroked down your side. "How do you feel?"

"I feel weird. And hot," you groaned, assuming it was because of your packmates laying with you.

"I know. You're a furnace," Jimin mumbled.

"It's me?"

Yoongi hummed in agreement and sniffed your neck. "You're in pre-heat."

Your body went stiff and you squeezed your eyes closed with a groan.

No.

A/n: aaaahh sorry for leaving you on a cliffhanger! We will get into mc's heat next time and it will be...something! Please let me know your thoughts about this chapter and whats to come! I really love hearing from all of you!

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anniebeemine · 2 months

Text

Blue Velvet- s.r.

bluer than velvet was the night

summary: Spencer had no idea he could fall for a coworker, nor could he think straight at seeing her in that dress. Pure fluff and self indulgence. Inspired by the Lana Del Rey cover and I Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore by REO Speedwagon.

Word Count: ~4,802

Spencer weaved through the crowd gathered in the main ballroom. The annual FBI gala was the talk of the year. He never cared for it before, making excuses to avoid going, but he made a promise this year. It’s his tenth year anniversary since joining and he was going to be honored with a gift.

“Pretty boy, you clean up nice,” Derek chuckled as he caught Reid’s sleeve.

“Hardy, har, har,” he replied. “Where’s everyone else?”

David raised an eyebrow. “Looking for someone specific?”

“Someone named Y/N?”

“No!” Spencer said, a little too quickly. “Maybe. She said she was running late and I want to make sure she made it.”

There was no way in hell Spencer would stay for long if it wasn’t for you. During your time on the team, you’d grown close. It was on one of those rare quiet afternoons that you discovered your shared interest in the genre.

"Do you like science fiction movies?" you had asked one day, scrolling through the TV guide during a rare moment of downtime during a case.

Spencer had looked up from his research, his eyes lighting up with a hint of excitement. "Actually, yes. I find them fascinating—exploring hypothetical futures, advanced technology, and ethical dilemmas."

And so began your tradition of movie nights, where you'd take turns picking films from the vast world of science fiction. From classics like "Blade Runner" to newer releases exploring the complexities of artificial intelligence and space exploration, each movie sparked lively discussions that ranged from scientific theories to philosophical debates. On weekends when the BAU was quiet, you and Spencer ventured out beyond the confines of the office and his book-lined apartment. Running errands became a joint endeavor, transforming mundane tasks into opportunities for laughter and camaraderie. Grocery shopping turned into a quest to find the most obscure ingredients for Spencer's latest culinary experiment—often inspired by a scientific study or a quirky fact he'd read.

"I read that turmeric has potential neuroprotective properties," Spencer had mused one day in the spice aisle, carefully examining the labels on various jars.

"Does that mean you're going to start making brain-boosting curry?" you teased, looking at the options.

"Maybe I'll give it a try," he replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Switching up the recipe?"

You nodded. "Since we have dinner all the time, I thought I'd use you as a guinea pig for new recipes."

Spencer grimaced. "Anything for research, I guess."

You also discovered a shared love for exploring quirky bookstores tucked away in hidden corners of the city. Each visit was a treasure hunt for obscure novels, scientific journals, and occasionally, a rare first edition that would send Spencer into a state of quiet excitement. You'd spend hours browsing together, exchanging recommendations and discussing everything from literature to astrophysics. One particularly memorable afternoon, you stumbled upon a small independent bookstore that seemed frozen in time, its shelves packed with a dizzying array of books. Spencer had eagerly led the way to the science fiction section, his eyes alight with curiosity as he scanned the titles.

"This place is amazing," you murmured, running your fingers along the worn spines of old paperbacks.

"It really is," Spencer agreed, his voice tinged with genuine admiration. "I could spend hours here."

And spend hours you did, lost in the world of words and ideas, until the setting sun cast long shadows through the dusty windows, signaling it was time to reluctantly leave the sanctuary of books.

As the weeks turned into months, your friendship with Spencer unexpectedly deepened. Beyond the crime scenes and the high-stress situations, you found solace in each other's company, whether it was watching a thought-provoking sci-fi movie, embarking on an impromptu culinary experiment, or simply sharing a quiet moment of reflection in the presence of books. Spencer had spent the last few months avoiding questions about your friendship. The two of you would often text casually, making plans with each other more often than with the rest of the team. Prying eyes and curiosity had won over a team member or two. Your friendship had evolved into something deeper. You shared jokes and swapped books every few days. He’d spent hours thinking about his feelings. He dissected every time you’d touched.

The first time he felt a pang of the feeling he couldn’t describe was in Missouri.

The two of you were trying to navigate alongside a creek. Two campers had seen a canoe floating down the creek. The color matched a photo of the missing victim. Your boots crunched softly over the rotting leaves. The recent rainy weather made the ground unstable. According to park rangers, there’s usually an uptick in people slipping into the water. Spencer’s eye caught a flash of red amongst the brown and gray environment. You had gotten so caught up in the excitement for a clue that your foot teetered over a root. You began falling forward but Spencer was able to grab your arm. He attempted to brace himself, taking a step back. Instead, he took his own tumble, steadying himself against a tree. Your eyes had met for a moment. He could see the gratitude in your eyes.

“Thanks, Reid,” you murmured, brushing your hands off. You patted his arm in appreciation, turning back to the task at hand.

Spencer let you go slowly, the pat you’d given his arm still feeling heavy against his skin. You reached the canoe before he could properly think about it.

The second time he felt that dip was in New York City. A case had dragged them out to the city and the weather kept them there for an extra day. The BAU found a small restaurant around the corner from the hotel. You’d sat at other ends of the table, chattering with the team. At the end of the night, you’d psst at him to stay back.

“What?” He asked once the team had walked away.

“I got these tickets for you.” You held up two tickets to a theater in Lower Manhattan. There was a screening of a foreign film Spencer had spent weeks begging you to watch. You just couldn’t shell out the $14.99 to watch it at home.

“How did you get these? I checked earlier and they were sold out!”

You smiled. “I’m not going to lie, I had to beg for these from some lady on Craigslist.”

“Thank you!” He gushed. “Care to join me?”

“Me?”

His smile faltered for a second. “Yeah, Y/N. I don’t think anyone else would like it.”

After the film, hours slipped by as you talked about the film. The conversation flowed effortlessly, passionate about the film and it’s camerawork. Morning dawned and you’d woken up on the bed, facing the window. Spencer laid beside you, facing the opposite wary. You had plans to sightsee with Emily and JJ while Spencer wanted to visit a library or two.

A tap on the microphone on the small stage brought Spencer back to the gala. Derek chuckled, apparently having tried to pull him into the conversation with Rossi. The music resumed after the introductions. Spencer moved around the room, mingling with a few departments from the FBI. He caught sight of you through a few people. He began making his way towards you, stopping as he finally caught a full view of you.

He found himself speechless as the way the blue dress fell over your body. The thin straps and cowl neckline framed your face. Your hair fell elegantly, loose waves traveling down your shoulders. The deep blue fabric shimmered under the dim lighting. Spencer took note of how the dress complimented your figure, showing off every curve and bump. You were talking to a man, older. Spencer was completely mesmerized by how you listened so intently, brows furrow and making direct eye contact. So relaxed, yet so professional. The burning sensation in his stomach returned. Only now, he could pinpoint his feelings.

I’m in love with my best friend

Spencer took a deep breath, turning away. He found himself at the bar, a voice ordering for him. “Ice water!" Morgan clapped Spencer on the back. “Everyone saw that, lover boy.”

Spencer could feel his cheeks burning. Perhaps water would be better than alcohol. Taking the glass of ice water offered by the bartender, Spencer took a slow sip, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat and calming his nerves. He appreciated Derek's attempt to inject humor into the moment, yet beneath the surface, a storm of emotions churned—a turmoil he couldn't easily articulate.

Derek, sensing the shift in Spencer's demeanor, paused for a moment, his playful expression fading into one of concern. He studied Spencer intently, noting the furrow of his brow and the uncharacteristic quietness that had settled over him.

"Hey, man," Derek said softly, his tone gentle now, devoid of its earlier jest. "You okay?"

Spencer hesitated, the weight of his confession still heavy upon him. He glanced at Derek, grateful for the genuine concern mirrored in his friend's eyes. "I… I don't know," he admitted quietly, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Derek nodded understandingly, sensing the gravity of the situation. "Talk to me, Reid," he encouraged, his voice low and supportive. "What's going on?"

Spencer took a deep breath, his thoughts racing as he struggled to articulate the tumultuous feelings swirling within him. "It's just… I've realized something," he began slowly, his words carefully chosen. "About Y/N." Derek waited patiently, sensing that this was more than just another case of Spencer overthinking. He knew that when Spencer spoke with this level of introspection, it meant something profound was at play. "I think… I think I'm in love with her," Spencer admitted quietly, his gaze dropping to his hands as he traced the rim of his glass. The admission hung between them, vulnerable and raw.

Derek's expression softened, understanding dawning in his eyes. “Yeah, we know, kid.”

“Then why didn’t I?”

Morgan shrugged. “You like her, and you’re scared.” Derek leaned forward slightly, his voice low and earnest. "Listen, man," he began, his gaze unwavering. "You're a great guy. Smart, kind, thoughtful—you've got so much to offer. Y/N is lucky to have you in her life."

Spencer swallowed hard, the weight of Derek's encouragement settling warmly in his chest. He had always valued his friend's opinion and respected his insights. Hearing Derek affirm his worth, especially in the context of his feelings for you, gave him a newfound sense of courage.

"You've gotta man up, Spence," Derek continued his tone firm yet supportive. "Life's too short to hold back. You know what you want—now go out there and get your girl."

Spencer nodded, a determined spark igniting in his eyes. He knew Derek was right. It was time to confront his feelings head-on, to take the leap of faith he had been avoiding for too long. You deserved to know how he felt, and he deserved the chance to see where their relationship could go.

"Thanks, Derek," Spencer said sincerely, his voice tinged with gratitude. "I needed to hear that."

Derek clapped him on the shoulder, a reassuring smile spreading across his face. "Anytime, kid. Now go make a move before someone else beats you to it," he teased lightly, the familiar twinkle of mischief returning to his eyes.

Spencer waded through the crowd. He reached you almost immediately. You smiled, quietly stepping away from the conversation to talk with him. “I made it! Sorry for not telling you earlier that I was late. Time just got away from me.”

“It’s okay. I’m glad you’re here.”

You smiled, looking around. You swayed along to the music.

“Hey, Y/N.” He blinked momentarily, lost in your eyes. “I… I just wanted to-” he huffed. “I’m sorry I’m not making any sense.”

You shook your head. “Take your time,” you said softly. “We have all the time in the world.”

He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "I wanted to say that… um, you know, I really enjoy working with you. And… and I value our friendship a lot." His words stumbled over each other, forming a disjointed confession that fell short of what he truly wanted to say.

Your expression softened, a gentle warmth in your eyes as you nodded. "I feel the same way, Spencer. You're a great colleague and friend."

Relief washed over him, mingled with a pang of regret at his inability to articulate his deeper feelings. "Thanks," he managed, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "I… I should go."

He was gone before you could respond. He sat down at the BAU table, trying to forget what just happened by half listening to a discussion over the appropriate level of drunk for a work function. As the evening progressed, Spencer found himself increasingly restless. The encounter with you replayed in his mind, each word scrutinized and analyzed. He was on the verge of getting up and leaving when the awards ceremony began. The room quieted as the host took the stage, announcing the start of the awards. Spencer shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the idea of being celebrated the furthest thing from his mind. He scanned the crowd, his eyes seeking you out, but you were nowhere to be seen.

"And now, for the recognition of ten years of service at the BAU, we honor Dr. Spencer Reid."

The applause was thunderous as Spencer's name was called. He stood, a mixture of surprise and pride swelling in his chest. His colleagues clapped enthusiastically, their faces beaming with admiration and support. He made his way to the stage, accepting the plaque with a humble smile.

As he stood there, the applause continued to fill the room, a tangible expression of the respect and camaraderie he had earned over the years. Looking out at the sea of familiar faces, he saw Derek, Hotch, JJ, Emily, Rossi, and even Garcia, all cheering him on. The moment was bittersweet, filling his heart with warmth and gratitude, yet tinged with the absence of the one person he longed to see.

He stepped down from the stage, the applause still echoing in his ears. As he returned to the BAU table, the sense of accomplishment was overshadowed by the lingering ache in his heart. He scanned the room once more, hoping to catch a glimpse of you, but you were still missing.

Derek leaned over, his voice low. "You did great up there, man."

"Thanks," Spencer replied, his voice distracted. "But I didn't see Y/N."

Derek's expression softened. "She's around here somewhere. Don't worry, man. You'll get your chance."

As he pressed the button and waited for the elevator, his mind was a chaotic blend of thoughts and feelings. He clutched the plaque, a tangible symbol of his dedication and hard work over the past decade. But his thoughts kept drifting back to you, the one person he hadn't seen since his awkward confession. The elevator arrived with a soft ding, and Spencer stepped inside, leaning against the cool metal wall. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

Just as the doors began to close, a familiar voice called out. "Hold the elevator!"

Spencer's eyes snapped open, and he instinctively reached out to press the 'Open' button. The doors parted again, and there you were, stepping inside with a grateful smile.

"Thanks, Spencer," you said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I was starting to think I'd be stuck here all night."

Spencer's heart raced as he tried to compose himself. "No problem," he managed to say, his voice steady despite the tumultuous emotions swirling inside him.

The doors closed, and the elevator began its descent. The two of you stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the only sound the soft hum of the machinery.

"So, how did the rest of the night go for you?" you asked, breaking the silence.

"It was… nice," Spencer replied, his mind still processing the evening's events. "But I needed a break. It was a lot to take in."

You nodded in understanding. "Yeah, these events can be overwhelming. I get it." You fiddled with your dress. "Thank you for coming."

Spencer glanced at you, noticing the way the dim light of the elevator highlighted your features. He felt a surge of affection and determination. This was his chance to tell you how he felt, to finally be honest with himself and with you. Before he could gather the courage to speak, you looked at him with a hopeful expression. "Hey, do you think you could give me a ride home? I wasn't really in the mood to stay any longer, and I could use the company."

Spencer's heart swelled with relief and excitement. "Of course," he said, his voice warm. "I'd be happy to."

The elevator reached the ground floor, and the doors opened to the quiet lobby. The two of you stepped out together, walking side by side toward the exit. The cool night air greeted you as you left the building, a refreshing change from the warmth of the gala. Spencer led you to his car, unlocking it with a click of the remote. You both settled into the seats, the familiar scent of the car bringing a sense of comfort. As he started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, Spencer stole a glance at you, his resolve strengthening.

The drive was mostly quiet, the city lights casting a gentle glow on the streets. Spencer's mind raced with thoughts of how to start the conversation, but every time he opened his mouth, the words seemed to vanish.

Finally, you broke the silence. "Spencer, I just wanted to say thank you for being such a good friend. You've been there for me in ways I can't even begin to describe."

Spencer's grip tightened on the steering wheel. This was his moment. He took a deep breath, summoning all the courage he could muster. “I really appreciate you too, Y/N.”

You grinned at him. “Take a left on Wilcox Ave.”

“Your apartment is a right turn?”

“Just do what I say,” you smiled.

Spencer followed your directions, curiosity piqued as he navigated the quiet streets. The city lights gradually faded, replaced by the serene darkness of a park. He parked the car, glancing over at you with a mixture of confusion and anticipation.

You stepped out of the car, taking off your shoes and feeling the cool grass beneath your feet. Spencer hesitated for a moment before following your lead. You wandered toward a pond, the full moon reflecting off the still water like a mirror. The air was crisp and refreshing, filled with the subtle sounds of nature.

"This is beautiful," Spencer murmured, taking in the tranquil scene. You smiled, looking around. "I come here when I need to think. It helps clear my mind."

Spencer watched as you walked closer to the pond, your silhouette framed by the moonlight. He felt a rush of affection, the moment surreal and perfect. You turned to him, your eyes reflecting the same light as the water.

"Do you remember that episode of Star Trek we watched last week?" you asked, your voice breaking the silence.

Spencer nodded, stepping closer. "Yeah, 'The City on the Edge of Forever.' One of my favorites."

You sighed, a small frown forming on your face. "I didn't really get the part where they had to let Edith die to restore the timeline. It seemed so cruel."

Spencer's heart ached at your words, understanding your confusion. "It's a pivotal moment in the series. It shows the complexity of time travel and the moral dilemmas that come with it. Sometimes, to preserve the greater good, difficult choices have to be made."

You nodded slowly, processing his explanation. "But still, it just felt so unfair. She was such a good person."

"She was," Spencer agreed. "And that's what makes it so impactful. The sacrifice was necessary, but it wasn't easy. It makes you question the cost of doing the right thing."

You sat down on the grass, looking out at the water. Spencer joined you, feeling the cool earth beneath him. The conversation flowed naturally, shifting from Star Trek to other shared interests. You laughed and debated, your voices mingling with the sounds of the night. As the time passed, Spencer felt a deep sense of contentment. This was what he cherished most about your friendship—the ability to connect on such a profound level. He glanced at you, your face illuminated by the moonlight, and felt a surge of emotion.

"Y/N," he began softly, his heart pounding. "I need to tell you something."

You looked at him, curiosity and warmth in your eyes. "What is it, Spencer?"

He took a deep breath, summoning all the courage he had. "I value our friendship more than anything, but I also have deeper feelings for you. I've been trying to sort through them, and I realized that I'm in love with you."

You paused, your eyes widening in surprise. Spencer's heart sank, misinterpreting your silence. "I-I'm sorry if I crossed a line," he stammered, his voice shaky. "I didn't mean to make things awkward. Forget I said anything."

Before he could turn away, you reached out, gently cupping his face in your hands. Without a word, you leaned in and kissed him softly. The world seemed to stop for Spencer, his mind reeling as he processed what was happening.

When you pulled back, your eyes were warm and tender. "I knew," you whispered, a soft smile playing on your lips.

Spencer blinked, his mind struggling to catch up. "You… you knew?" You nodded, your smile growing. "Yeah, I did. And I feel the same way."

A wave of relief and joy washed over Spencer. "But how did you know? And how did everyone else know before me?"

You laughed softly, the sound like music to his ears. "You're not exactly subtle, Spencer. The way you look at me, the little things you do… it was pretty clear."

Spencer felt his cheeks flush, a mix of embarrassment and happiness. "I thought I was being discreet."

You shook your head, still smiling. "Not at all. But it's okay. I like that about you."

Spencer's heart soared, the weight of his unspoken feelings finally lifting. He pulled you into a hug, holding you close as the moonlight bathed you both in its gentle glow. As the first light of dawn began to break, you stood up, brushing the grass from your clothes. "We should probably head back."

Spencer nodded, standing up and following you back to the car. The drive back was quiet, but this time the silence was filled with unspoken promises and a newfound understanding.

When you finally reached your apartment, you turned to him, your expression sincere. "Thank you for tonight, Spencer. And for being honest with me."

Spencer teetered on his toes. “Is it okay if I kiss you goodnight?”

You nodded, snaking your arms around his neck. His hands landed on your hips, lips catching yours. He pulled back. “That dress looks amazing on you.”

“Thank you,” you blushed. “Goodnight.”

Spencer let you go, taking a few steps backwards. “Goodnight.” You unlocked your apartment door, stepping in. You peeked through the door, watching Spencer push the elevator button. “Though,” you said, “I do need someone to help me take it off. Or else I might have to wear it to work on Monday.”

Spencer turned around, his eyes widening slightly. “It’d be a shame. You look amazing.”

You gave him a playful smile, opening the door a little wider. “Then come on in, Doctor.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, his mind racing with thoughts. But the invitation in your eyes was clear, and the warmth in your smile reassured him. He stepped forward, crossing the threshold into your apartment.

The door closed behind him, shutting out the world and leaving just the two of you in the cozy, dimly lit space. The air was thick with anticipation, but also a comforting familiarity. You turned your back to him, sweeping your hair to one side. "The zipper's a bit tricky," you said softly.

Spencer approached slowly, his hands trembling slightly as he reached for the zipper. He carefully pulled it down, the sound loud in the quiet room. His fingers brushed against your skin, sending shivers down both your spines.

"There," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You turned to face him, the dress slipping slightly off your shoulders. "Thank you," you murmured, your eyes meeting his.

Spencer felt his breath catch in his throat, the moment charged with unspoken emotion. "You're welcome," he replied, his voice husky.

You took a step closer, closing the distance between you. "Spencer," you began, your tone serious now. "I meant what I said earlier. I do feel the same way about you. I just didn't know how to tell you."

He reached out, gently cupping your face in his hands. "I'm glad you did. And I'm glad I finally found the courage to tell you."

You smiled, leaning into his touch. "So what now?"

Spencer's heart raced, but he felt a newfound confidence. "Now, we see where this takes us. One step at a time."

You nodded, your smile widening. "I like that plan."

Spencer leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in this perfect moment. When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, but filled with a sense of rightness.

"Stay?" you asked softly, your eyes searching his.

Spencer nodded, his heart swelling with affection. "I'd love to."

You led him further into the apartment, the future uncertain but promising, filled with the possibilities of love and discovery. As the night wore on, you both knew that this was the beginning of something beautiful and real.

Bonus: “She left without her purse?” Emily asked, slightly hungover from the night before. She squinted, holding a hand up to shield her from the sun.

Derek shrugged. “Reid didn’t answer this morning when I stopped by. He was a mess about Y/N and he just disappeared.”

“Do you think there’s something wrong?”

“Let’s find out.” Derek knocked firmly, but there was no answer. He knocked again, louder this time, but the silence from the other side of the door persisted.

Emily exchanged a worried glance with Derek. “Maybe she’s just asleep?” she suggested, though she didn’t sound convinced.

Derek sighed. “Or maybe she’s avoiding us. Either way, we need to make sure she’s okay.”

Just as they were about to knock again, Spencer swung the door open. hand. Before he could greet them, you came around the corner, your hair tousled and wearing one of Spencer’s oversized shirts.

“Is it the pancakes we ordered?” You asked cheerfully, but paused when you saw your guests.

Derek smirked, holding up the purse. “Nope, just your friendly neighborhood FBI agents, returning a forgotten item.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh my gosh, thank you so much! I completely forgot about it.”

You must have left it at the table when you spotted Spencer by the elevator.

Emily grinned, stepping forward. “Mind if we come in?”

Spencer hesitated for a moment before stepping aside. “Sure, come on in.”

They entered the cozy apartment, taking in the relaxed atmosphere and the aroma of fresh coffee. Derek and Emily exchanged amused glances at the sight of Y/N and Spencer clearly having spent the night together.

Emily nudged Derek with a knowing smile. “Well, this is cozy.”

You blushed but didn’t seem embarrassed. “We were just about to have breakfast. Would you like to join us?”

Derek shook his head, still smirking. “Thanks, but we’ve already eaten. Just wanted to make sure you got your purse back.”

Emily’s eyes twinkled as she looked at Spencer. “We also wanted to check on Reid. He kind of vanished last night.”

Spencer cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure. “Yeah, sorry about that. It was a… complicated night.”

Derek chuckled. “No kidding. But it looks like it all worked out.”

You smiled, slipping your hand into Spencer’s. “It did. Thanks for bringing my purse, though. I would’ve been lost without it.”

Derek and Emily shared another glance, then Emily pulled out a ten-dollar bill and handed it to Derek with a smirk. She muttered something quietly.

Derek’s grin widened as he took the bill. “Make it ten.”

“Deal,” Emily replied, shaking his hand.

Spencer and you exchanged confused looks.

“What’s that about?” Spencer asked.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Derek said, still smirking. “Just make sure to invite us to the wedding.”

#spencer reid #spencer reidx reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

131 notes · View notes

witch-hazels-musings · 10 months

Text

familiar

Warning -> comfort, SFW - sick fic! (reader is sick: aches and pains, sore throat, general sick descriptions | reader passes out | reader is carried | reader is taken to an unfamiliar location and wakes up a bit disoriented but is safe | Childe: reader is threatened but unharmed, fingers get cut off of random person)

Includes: Childe, Diluc, Thoma

Character X GN Reader | Anthology

Your skin was burning. You breathed and the air felt like fire as it passed across your chapped, dry lips. Someone called your name and you turned, lifted yourself from a hunched position to look only for the action to make your head swim.

You smiled anyway.

"Hello, how can I help you?" The patron near the counter slid something toward you. What was it? You blinked and realized there were several items in a basket. You swore they multiplied as you pulled them out one by one. The transaction was the slowest you'd completed in your life but it wasn't the last as several more people stepped in line. You felt a bead of sweat run down your spine.

You smiled and greeted them.

Your head throbbed. Parts of your body you rarely thought about ached, cried out in pain as you rose from the chair.

Finally, you could go home. Could rest.

Unsteady, the world teetering as you made your way toward the door, you caught your breath near the entrance only to realize you'd left your bag and the shop key in the back office.

Coughing, you tried to clear your throat and push through the waves of disorientation as you meandered back down the hall. You labored in the doorway with ragged breaths trying to remember what you went back here for. Pressing your forehead against the trembling and clammy hand that held onto the door frame, you tried to focus.

"What did I ..." you mumbled, scanning the room. A flash of flickering light from outside caught your attention. Pushing forward you grabbed the key and made your way to the front door.

The outside air felt as refreshing as drinking a cold glass of water on a hot day. You gasped at the way it caressed your skin, at the way it soaked into the mist that speckled your brow, that clung to the edges of your hairline. You breathed deeply, welcoming the strain of your lungs before an inevitable cough tore you from the reprieve. You crumbled, caught your breath, then, with multiple uncoordinated attempts, locked the front door.

It was hard to concentrate, but you let your muscle memory carry you through the streets. You did your best to smile and keep a safe distance from those you passed, though most people didn't seem to notice you, even when you staggered and caught yourself on a beam for support.

I just have to get home, you told yourself. Eyes blurry, head swirling and disorganized. The stack of crates next to you served as a useful crutch. You did your best to catch your quickening breaths against them. All you wanted to do was sleep.

You made it through the day like this, what was a few more minutes?

A surge of strength rose in you as you pushed away from the pile of crates but as soon as you took a step your legs crumbled and you fell into a heap at the edge of the street. Your hands burned from the violent contact of the sharp, frozen ground. Puffs of steam exploded from your mouth as you struggled to take in as much air as you exhaled.

You swore you heard your name but when you turned your head to look, the world went dark.

Childe

His smile faded as soon as they left his office. The click of the door was the switch he needed to flip the mask he was so good at wearing. Just like he had learned - like a good boy.

He wiped his face with the palm of his hand and rose from his chair. At least they gave him a window - though perhaps it was more of a tease than a gift. A reminder that he was trapped in a room with suffocating walls. Like a caged animal, whose only desire was to feel the soil beneath their feet.

He hated when they made him do this work. Even if it was a pain, he'd rather be out in the field training new recruits than sitting in this stifling room signing off on peoples debts they'd never repay.

Childe sighed and leaned against the window. He scanned the passersby, hoping, wishing one of them would give him an excuse to leave this cramped office. Though, it was unlikely - Liyue rarely had anything fun. He missed the days before the Archon fell. At least then he had toys to play with.

A knock rattled his thoughts, "We've got three more for you, sir."

"Tell them to come back tomorrow," Childe called without looking at the massive and decorated door.

"I'll be sending in the next one shortly," they replied, clearly ignoring him. He rolled his eyes and looked back down to the street. In the corner, just out of view, he saw someone stumble through a back alley. He would have passed it off as a drunk if there wasn't an air of familiarity to the figure.

Childe pinched his brow as drifting voices spilled in from the hall.

He turned to head back at his desk but gave one last look to the alleyway and saw a small group taking the same path the stumbling person just walked.

"Childe will see you now," the voice said as they opened the door to Childe's office, head bowed and eyes closed as their arm escorted them inside.

"Um - who will?"

The voice snapped their eyes open to see an empty office with an open window and billowing curtains. "damn-it", they cursed and ran down the hallway.

Childe stayed in the shadows. Curiosity leading the way as he stalked the group. Further down the alley something crashed onto the stone ground but he had a hard time making out what it was. The group turned a corner and he could hear their voices echo off the tight buildings. He leapt onto a nearby walk-way hoping to get a good view of whatever was about to happen below, but when he saw who they were stalking their way toward, he finally understood why his body leapt out the window on its own.

Rage filled him as he launched forward so he could land between your gasping body and the oncoming group.

"What did I tell you guys? Easy pickins -- woah!" The group raised their hands as a wave of water splashed against them. They all stumbled, but one fell to the ground. "What the-"

"I suggest you leave."

"Huh?!" The one in the middle stepped forward, clothes soaked, hands fumbling for a knife. "T-this was ours first. So b-back off," he tried to puff out his chest but looked more like a drenched toad than anything to be frightened of. It would have made Childe laugh it he weren't currently seething, and if he hadn't looked back to see you shaking, terrified as you barely held yourself off the ground.

"If you're looking for a fight, I'll happily provide you one," Childe threatened, his blades appearing in his hands and sending out a high pitch whine as they danced in his grip, "See I've been cooped up all day and could really use a good workout."

"H-hey man, let's just go," one of them quivered, grabbing the 'leaders' arm.

"No, this is ours - we need thi-" the leaders voice died out as a slash of water cut through the fingers that had managed to grip his feeble knife in the first place. The man screamed, doubled over while his friends held onto his shoulders to keep him from falling to the ground.

"I must not have heard you correct. Because, I'm pretty sure you just called something of mine, yours?" Childe took a step toward them, his body raging, his blades growing at the thought of them calling you theirs. "So, I'm going to give you another chance to repeat yourself."

The group scurried like rats down the drenched alleyway and though he was half-temped to chase after them, to teach them a lesson, he barely made it a step when something burning grabbed his pant leg.

In an instant, his blades faded into nothing and he turned to scoop you into his still trembling arms. You were on fire, and even though he could tell you had near to no strength, you still managed to wrap your arms around his neck and hide against him.

With a possessive hand cupping the back of your head, he held you close and made his way to where he knew you'd be safe.

You could finally breathe without a protest from your lungs. Only a few areas ached instead of everywhere, and though you were still warm, you felt surrounded by cool waters.

Shifting, you tried to sit up, to open your eyes, but something covered your eyes and you fell back into satin.

"Sleep," a voice told you. It felt stern, but warm. Your tried to push the darkness away but found it hard, even when you curled your fingers around the palm of someone's hand. "You're still sick. So go back to bed."

"Where -- where am I?" you croaked, your voice dry and scratchy.

"You're safe." The voice felt so familiar. You breathed and though your nose was stuffy, you caught a whiff of something that made you turn your head toward the dip in the bed.

"... Childe? What's happening?"

"Don't worry your head over it. You're alright, that's all that matters."

You listened to his voice, felt his palm against your skin, sensed his presence next to you. You weren't sure how you got here, honestly you weren't sure where you even were, but Childe was here - he was right here and, as you moved closer to him and let your forehead press against his side, you felt safer than you ever had in all your life.

Childe turned his head from the book in his hands to glance at the sleeping figure next to him. It was the first time he'd ever seen you so relaxed, so at ease. The first time you'd ever been this near to him - the first time you'd ever been in his bed.

Carefully, he ran his fingers over your ear and let them know the taste of your skin while you slept.

He sighed and wondered how he was ever going to let you go now.

Diluc

The cold air reminded him another season was passing, changing. He'd stopped trying to measure the passage of time years ago, but there was something about cold, night air that felt like a ticking clock. Or maybe it was the reliable pocket watch he kept with him while he worked to help him tell when he could 'respectfully' request everyone leave so he could do more, important, work.

"Master Diluc," Charles said as he slid a heavy wooden box onto the back counter, "I think we've got another in the back."

"Great," Diluc held back a sigh but not the heavy roll of his eyes, and stashed the cup he had just pulled down for a customer. "Finish this up. I'll deal with it."

"Sounds good. What can I getcha?" he asked the drunk patron who didn't seem bothered to repeat their order to the new, friendlier, bartender.

Diluc reached for his jacket as he passed the back office. His hair snagged the coarse fabric as he pulled it from underneath. He adjusted the collar before opening the door to the back alley.

He hated dealing with drunks in the first place, but a sick one throwing up behind his establishment was somehow worse.

Scanning the immediate area didn't reveal anything to him. So he took another step into the chilly evening. Off in the distance, near the stairs that lead to the small docks on the lake, he saw a silhouette hunched over a stack of crates. Ones he had just assisted in unloading earlier that day.

"Hey, don't make it other people's problem if you can't hold your ---" Diluc froze when he saw the blob of dark shadows turn into your shape and likeness. He blinked, thinking he had made it up, but as he drew closer he knew his eyes didn't lie. Normally, you would have waved to him, called out to him - brightened his day - but right now you looked terrible. When he called to you, you didn't answer.

His pace quickened when he saw you stumble away from the crates and he was practically running when you fell to the ground. He let out a breath when he was just in time to catch your head before it careened into the cobblestone.

"... are you ok--?" Diluc turned you toward him but he didn't need to feel your brow to know you were burning up. He could see it in your pained expression, in the moisture of the night as it drifted toward him. When he realized you didn't have anything on you, he took actions into his own hands. "Hold on."

Diluc hoisted you into his arms, made sure you rolled into him as he carried you swiftly back toward the bar. With every groan and whimper he became more concerned. His muscles tensed when your fingers weakly grasped his clothes. Even though it made you whine, he held you closer to him and picked up the pace.

There were only a few sounds in this world that made his heart stop.

He took no time carrying you up the stairs to the third-floor apartment he used on nights he didn't want to make the long walk back to the Winery. As he passed by the confused, and rightfully worried Charles, word was already on its way to the church to bring a healer.

You were so hot. Your back hurt to the point you wished someone would rip it from you. Every breath was agonizing but you couldn't convince yourself to stop breathing.

You felt somewhere between dead and alive, and though you didn't understand it, you found yourself in a bed you didn't recognize, in a room you'd never been in before.

The shapes came and went. A halo of light bloomed in the corner. You coughed, pulled back the sheets but froze when a figure now stood where the halo once was.

"Who --"

"Don't get up," a voice, a familiar voice said. The figure moved closer to you. You tried to lift your hands in defense but they were weak and in your uncoordinated move, you slipped from the sheets. "I got you," the voice comforted you. Gentle words that floated into your ear. Something sturdy and wrapped around your stomach.

The figure, which smelled like barrels of sweetened fruit, carefully helped you back into the bed. Strands of red filled your senses and brushed against your cheek. Kind fingers caressed your jaw as they slipped to the back of your neck and eased you onto your back.

"Try to rest. I've called on a healer." The figure spoke, their deep voice like the rustle of leaves in the morning sun. "You're safe. I've got you," they said like a mantra as their fingers soothed your weary eyes closed. "I've got you."

The warmth of their touch against your skin was soothing, but suddenly it was gone and you cried out, reached out your hand to find it again. "Don't go," you pleaded.

Their touch returned to your fingertips, then your palm as they took your shaking hand in theirs. "I'm right here," the voice soothed and let you hold your captured treasure close to your parted lips.

You found it strange that your sickness would concoct such a vivid and realistic specter in the shape of the man who held your heart.

Thoma

"Hah, not a problem," Thoma waved them off for the third time. "It really wasn't that difficult. So don't worry about it." He took another step back and let out a playful laugh even as the person bowed for the tenth time in front of him.

Eventually, after many more reassurances, he managed to be on his way and - surprisingly - was only ten minutes behind schedule. With speed, and restraining himself to only courteous waves and passing smiles, he hastily walked down the busy Inzuma streets. To save himself more time, he dipped into a less traveled alleyway and doubled his pace.

It wasn't uncommon to see random and sometimes unsightly scenes in the back alleys. Inazuma was safe, but it wasn't immune to crime. So, as he spied a figure hunched over a stack of crates, he debated if the person looked like they did, or didn't, belong there. When he got closer, he started to recognize bits a pieces of the blurry figure.

"What are you doing back here?" he asked, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips and growing with each second. When you didn't answer him, and he saw you stumble away from the crates and fall to the ground, his joy shifted to fear.

He swore he'd never run so fast in his life.

When you didn't answer him, or react to your name, he wasted no time in lifting you from the dirty, cold ground and into his arms. He wasn't far from the estate, but he also wasn't close. Normally you had a bag - one he remembered because you'd purchased it with him the last time the two of you went to the markets - but right now you were empty handed. Something was clearly wrong.

With you in his arms, Thoma rushed through the alley. His heart raced at the sound of your labored breathing, at the way your face scrunched with every jostle of his movements, at the trembling hand that gripped his clothes.

"Hold on," he soothed, "Just hold on." Thoma burst through the alley and ran through the crowded streets toward the Kamisato Estate.

Something cold touched your forehead and you let out a gasp at the contact. Instinctually, you tried to push it away with weak hands.

"I know its cold," a voice said. A comforting, familiar voice that called to your heart. Whoever it was took your hand and caressed your skin with a gentle thumb. "You have a fever, this will help."

You groaned, tried to open your eyes but found it hard. Your body ached and though you didn't want it to, it moved uncomfortably under plush sheets.

After a while the covering over your eyes lifted and you heard the sound of water falling. Turning your head, you pried open your burning eyes to capture blurry and unusual shapes. Your heart raced as you tried to figure out where you were, but the longer it took, the more concerned you were.

"I ha --- to go," you tried to push yourself up but swift footsteps met you before you could.

"Easy, you're sick. You need your rest."

Why was this voice so familiar?

You looked up, even though the action made your head throb. Squinting your eyes, the blob of yellow and red in front of you started to take shape.

"T-Thoma?"

The blob made a smile and pushed strands of your hair out of your face. "It's me," he reassured you, his hand cupping your cheek. Like someone who opened up a door to a dark room, his contact breathed new life into you.

He caught you You fell into him He ease you to rest You were finally at ease

"You found me," you said weakly with a thankful smile. His hand brushed the top of your head and the cold returned but, this time, it felt soothing, refreshing.

"I always do," he hummed and soon your uneasy breaths slowed and faded into healing slumber.

#genshin impact #hazels works #genshin impact sfw #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x gn reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin impact childe #childe x gn reader #genshin impact diluc #diluc x gn reader #genshin impact thoma #thoma x gn reader

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santaasi · 5 months

Text

VIOLENCE

pairing: boxer!jj maybank x gf!reader

summary: jj maybank wants to put the whole world at her feet, but the only way he knows in this life is violence

warnings: angst, a lil bit of fluff, (kinda) violent behavior, some language, no use of y/n, jj calls reader kitten, english isn’t my first language

word count: 4.7k

a/n: this work was originally conceived as a small drabble with a maximum of 1.5k words but it became a full one-shot. i guess i can't be brief. as always, I recommend you to listen to this amazing song while reading: Eden - Suffering for Love. Have a good time <з

She hated what he was doing. She hated this little ring, which looked like a cage when even animals could not be kept. She hated being in a crowd of sweaty men drinking beer and shouting his name. She hated watching his face, which she loved to cover with kisses, get hit after hit. And she hated that she felt a vague pleasure when his fist flew into his opponent's face.

All in all, she hated violence. And JJ Maybank's lifestyle was full of this violence.

But more than that, she hated the fact that she was the cause of this violence in JJ's life. Everything he did was for her and because of her. He kissed the ground she walked on.

Therefore, he was ready to do anything just to give her a bouquet of her favorite flowers. Or to arrange the most unforgettable date for her on the beach. Or to give her that rare and outrageously expensive book for her birthday that she had dreamed of for so long. And for all of this, money was needed, which JJ did not have. But there was hatered and violence in his veins, which for the first time in his life came in handy.

At first, these illegal fights were just additional earnings for him, when he had to make ends meet, to repay debts, or when he just wanted to pamper his princess (always). But then... the high-stakes, wins, the big money, her smiling face - pulled him into a place he didn't want to get out of. And JJ Maybank knew perfectly well that if she found out about his new little part-time ‘job’, she wouldn't like it. So, he kept it a secret. Violence was his little secret.

But she was never stupid. She found all these little gestures on his part sweet and innocent. She didn't wonder where he got the money from, because he had a job. In this godforsaken car repair shop. But when Mr. Joyce, his boss, called out to her on the street, asking her to send her ‘errand boy’ to take his share after he was fired, she began to suspect something was wrong.

With his first big win in boxing, he rented them a small cozy house on the outskirts of the cut. It was a gift for their second anniversary. And she moved from her parents' huge mansion on Figure 8 to this small house to be near him, to love him and to spent her whole life with him.

They never talked about JJ's new job, she didn't ask where his money came from, or where he got new beatings every week right after the previous ones had just healed. She didn't want to get into his soul with questions, having already understood perfectly well for two years that if he wanted to, he would have told everything himself. But all this bothered her, because of which she did not sleep well, she always walked around sullen and gloomy. And at some point she just couldn't stand it.

She remembered this day as if it were yesterday. She going down the dark stairs to the basement, standing in the crowd, looking around for the top of his blond hair, and how her heart stopped for a moment when she saw him in that cage. She stood frozen with horror and fear for him, unable to say even a word. She saw how he struck blow after blow, how his eyes burned with determination and how he grinned triumphantly into the crowd, enjoying himself after winning.

He always enjoyed the taste of victory and the roar of the crowd shouting his name at such moments, because it made him feel needed, noticed and appreciated. But as soon as he saw her frightened look at him, everything inside him turned upside down. She was standing there, looking at him with her big, frightened eyes, like a little deer that had met with a gun pointed at her in the woods. And the air was knocked out of his lungs in a second just from one of her looks, which stabbed into his heart like a knife. He watched her slowly squeeze through the crowd, trying to get out, trying to escape from what she saw.

For the first time in his life, JJ Maybank didn't know what to do. He understood that she needed time to make sense of everything, but he didn't want her to make some hasty decision without him.

So, he quickly took his salary and things and left the basement, meeting with the cold wind and with her. She stood hugging herself, trying to warm her body, which was shaking either from cold or shock. JJ draped his jacket over her shoulders and lit a cigarette, waiting for her to speak first.

Everything inside him was shaking with fear that she would leave, that she would not want to be with him anymore. And this thought terrified him more than anything else in the world.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" she asked in a barely audible voice, concentrating all her attention on the flashing light at the end of the road. A tiny cloud of steam escaped from her lips.

"It didn't matter, kitten," the guy croaked, looking at her. JJ had never seen her so seriously cold before. There was a lump in his throat. "You never cared where I took the money so I..."

"It didn't matter? Doesn't it matter to you, JJ?!" her voice rose and she turned to him, looking at him in rage with tears in her eyes.

"’Cause it does metter to me! ‘S metter to me where you are, if you're okay, how y’feel.… And after everything we've been through, did you jus’ decide to hide that you're engaged in illegal fighting now?" her chest heaved and her fists clenched. She did not understand at what point she stumbled, that he no longer trusted her. What did she do wrong?

"Why don't you trust me, Jay? I thought... we..." her lips trembled and her voice cracked. All the rage seemed to have disappeared in a moment, leaving only pain and resentment. Resentment against the person she loved most, for whom she fought for so many years and went against everyone, even against her parents. And for what?

JJ stood next to her in a daze. He watched her body shudder from the cold and saw tears begin to shine in her eyes in the light of the lanterns. She looked like a little kitten who had been kicked out of a warm and cozy house onto the street, where she was surrounded only by a big world filled with fear and horror. And to tell the truth, that's how she felt. All those relationships filled with love and trust that she had tried to build brick by brick between them were now slowly crumbling before her eyes. She never asked questions. And maybe that was her mistake. Maybe that's why her JJ decided she couldn't be trusted. Maybe that's why he decided to hide part of his life from her?

But that wasn't the case for JJ. He has always trusted her and will trust her no matter what happens, because she is the one for him. She was always there for him in the most difficult moments of his life. She pulled him out of the swamp of darkness and pain that he had been immersed in all these years. She took him under her wing, took care of him and loved him. JJ always believed that she was his guardian angel. That at some point in his miserable life, God, if he really existed, sent her to save his, JJ Maybank's, worthless life and give him a reason to stay.

She was always perfect in his eyes. Innocent and pure. He couldn't let all the dirt and violence he was dealing with show on her. But even more, he couldn't bear the thought that after recognizing him as so evil and cruel, she would abandon him. That's why he's hiding it. That's why he didn't tell her anything.

"Jay, please say somethin’.… this silence is drivin’ me crazy," her voice was hoarse and helpless. She looked at him with her big tearful eyes and JJ felt his heart breaking. Did he really do this to her? "What did I do wrong?"

Maybank could have sworn he barely heard her last words. The phrase swept past him like a cold wind, leaving behind a wave of goosebumps. He wished he hadn't heard them. He wished he didn't feel that stabbing feeling in his chest that they caused. But JJ heard that soft voice, broken for a second, which, like a blow to the gut, forced the air out of his lungs.

JJ Maybank had done the most terrible thing to her. He made her doubt herself. And he hated himself for it. The guy frowned, trying a couple of times to open his mouth and say at least something ... at least something so that she would understand him.

"That's what I thought," Dana whispered softly, nodding and turning around and walking in the same direction from where she came.

The sound of her footsteps echoing down the empty street brought JJ out of shock and he immediately started running after her. He couldn't let her go. She was his world. His everything.

"Kitten, wait! Stop! I'll explain everythin’, okay?" catching her hand, he gently turned her around.

The girl's face was pale and lifeless. For the first time in all this weeks, JJ noticed blue circles under her eyes, and a lack of shine in her pupils. She didn't say anything, just stood there waiting for his explanation. The girl knew that she would never be able to leave him without listening. No matter how many times JJ Maybank messed up, she would always accept and listen to him.

"I jus’ wanted to give you better life, kitten. I- I-... ‘n that was the only way," JJ whispered, taking her hands in his. His fingers moved slowly and soothingly over her palms.

"I know you don't like... all this. I know ‘s too much. But ‘s worth it to see y’smile..." JJ looked at their joined hands and let go of one, reaching into his pocket and showing her a stack of greenbacks.

"There's a thousand bucks here. I got a thousand dollars for jus’ one fight, kitten. ‘S enough to cover all our expenses and there will still be..." Maybank looked up at his girl, smiling, but when he met her sad expression, his smile immediately faded.

Her name came out of his mouth, but she just shook her head as she came closer. Her hands gently touched his face, tracing each wound with her finger. A split eyebrow. A bruise on the cheekbone. A bleeding scar on the bridge of his nose. A split lip. She flinched a little every time her finger touched a particularly badly bleeding wound, as if all these wounds were hers.

"Do you really think that this money is more important to me than you are? Do you really think that this money is worth all your injuries to me?" Dana whispered softly, frowning slightly. Her voice was soft and soothing, but her eyes were shining.

JJ saw her bite her lower lip to keep from crying. His heart ached. JJ saw her pain. He said her name again, but she shook her head, taking a deep breath.

"You still haven't realized in all these years that I don't care about money, Jay?" She cupped his face with her hands and looked him straight in the eyes. "I left my parents, I left my life behind to be with you. I don't need money, I need you."

JJ's arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her to him. He needed to feel her next to him. To feel that she would never leave. JJ rested his chin on her hair, inhaling the scent of floral perfume.

"I know, but I don't want you to live in need, kitten. I promise it for a while.… I'll figure something out"

JJ kissed the top of her head, holding her close. And she believed all his words again, hoping that he would really end it soon. She had no desire to watch him torture himself because of her.

"I can't do this anymore, Jay," the girl confessed months after their first encounter. This time his ‘performance’ went worse than expected.

She stood behind him with her arms crossed over her chest, looking at him through the mirror. JJ slowly treated his wounds on his face, sometimes spitting blood clots into the snow-white sink. He looked terrible. His entire torso was dotted with red bruises, and there was no living place on his face. Even after the worst fights with his father a couple of years ago, he didn't look that bad.

She watched as he slowly applied the alcohol-soaked cotton wool to his bruised eyebrow, pressing it too hard, which made him cringe in pain. She suppresses the urge to reach out to him and take everything from him, treat his wounds properly and kiss every bruise on his face, as she has done since the very beginning of their relationship. First because of Luke, and then because of his... his job. But she remained standing behind him, leaning her head back against the cold tiles on the wall. It seemed to calm her down a little. But all these thoughts about JJ, about these illegal fights, about what their relationship had become because of it, did not give her peace of mind. She didn't want to support this violence anymore. She doesn't want to see him suffer.

"You know 'm doin’ this for ya. For us, kitten," JJ said wearily, putting down the cotton wool and turning to the girl. Her gaze swept over his features again, which she did not recognize because of the swelling and bruises, and the girl frowned even despite his soft smile. "'m doin’ this so that we have the money to pay for this house. And for the bills. And for the food and all other stuff that ya need"

"If I get a job too, then you won't have to fight..."

“No! I have everything under control. You're not gonna work in some diner just ‘cause I..." the guy swallowed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Just ‘cause I can't provide for the life you had before me."

She shook her head and frowned. That was the whole damn problem. The fact that before her relationship with him, she was a kook, lived in a large mansion with a cook, a maid and a gardener, had an unlimited golden card and could do anything. And JJ was a pogue. And he didn't care about it until they decided to move in together a year ago, and since then he has set himself the goal of doing everything possible so that his kook princess doesn't lift her finger a day in her life. Although she didn't mind, she was never one to be afraid of getting her hands dirty. She was willing to work in the most God-forsaken eateries twenty-four hours a day just so that JJ wouldn't enter this fighting ring anymore. Because to see him like this almost every night…

"I'll figure it out, kitten. It's okay," she felt JJ's hands wrap around her cheeks, wiping away the tears with his thumbs, which she didn't even notice how they flowed. She focused her gaze on him and shook her head, biting her lip, suppressing a sniffle.

And again she hears "I'll figure it out." Sometimes it seems to her that she has heard this phrase from him every day throughout the year. Although it probably is, because all they've been doing this year is fighting. Then make up. And after that they quarrel again. So in a circle.

Her whole life over the past year has become like trash day, from which she can not get out.

"No, Jay. Nothing's gonna be okay as long as you go there," she couldn't even bring herself to say out loud the place where her boyfriend went almost every night. She swallowed the lump in her throat and put her palms on top of his. "With each new time you come in a worse and worse state… 'm afraid... one day… 'm afraid..." her voice trembled and she had to take a couple of breaths before speaking again. "I'm afraid that one day you won't come home, Jay. And I don’t wanna know... I don’t wanna know how I will live after that"

She felt a new wave of tears roll down her cheeks, and Jay cursed softly to himself before moving away from her. Over the past two months, these conversations have become more frequent and it annoyed the guy. None of these talks ended well. And JJ Maybank hated fighting with his girlfriend because she was the only one he lived and did everything for in this world. There was no point in his life without her. But despite this, he said what he considered necessary at that moment. Pause. They needed a pause.

The girl's eyes widened and she stared at the guy in shock. He couldn't offer it. Couldn't he?

"I'll stay with John B. until... until you calm down," the guy came out of the bathroom, opening the closet, taking out a pre-packed bag of things. She followed him out, watching him pull on his hoodie.

"What the hell, Jay? Are you leavin’ me?" her voice broke into a scream, and her heart began to beat at breakneck speed. He couldn't leave her. He won't leave her.

"This is a pause. ‘S just a pause for a few days. I'm tired of fighting’ with ya," JJ breathed wearily, without even turning to her.

"If you stopped goin�� to that damn basement, all the quarrels would be over!" the girl shouted, watching him leave.

"I'll text you" was the last phrase he threw before the front door slammed shut and she fell to the floor sobbing.

She didn't understand at what point everything had changed so much. At what point did all their lovely quiet evenings turn into this? At what point did their I love you’s and happy morning cuddling turn into JJ deciding to leave her?

It all looked like a terrible nightmare and she didn't know how to deal with it anymore.

Two weeks have passed since their last fight. It was the most difficult and terrible two weeks of her life. After almost three years of a relationship, she had to relearn how to be on her own and live alone.

For the first few days, she woke up in the morning in the complete silence of their small house in a cold bed, remembering how the door slammed after he left. She walked from room to room like a zombie, trying to occupy herself with something just to avoid thinking about him, but every time she was distracted by something, her thoughts returned to JJ. When she brushed her teeth in the morning, she looked in the mirror, hoping to see him in the reflection and laugh at the mean faces that he made to make her smile. When she was cooking in the kitchen, she remembered JJ quietly whistling some silly tune from an ads, which annoyed her. Even when she was lying on the couch reading a book, she always remembered how JJ would lie down next to her, wrapping her in his strong arms and asking her to read aloud. Maybank didn't give a damn what kind of book it was or what it was about, he just liked listening to her voice and heartbeat.

In those two weeks he wrote to her only a couple of times. She couldn't find a place for herself, only occasionally asked Sarah how JJ, who lived in her and John B.'s house, was doing. From her, she learned that today was his another fight with a man who was famous for his special cruelty. And that scared the hell out of her.

That was exactly the reason why she was standing now among shouting and jostling men, as she had been a few weeks ago. Beer and drool flew in all directions while some young boys were fighting in the boxing ring, who were put on the "warm-up" before the main fight. The fight between her JJ and Broady Harington aka killing machine. And her heart leapt in her chest at the very thought of it.

She wanted to see him before the fights. To apologize. To say that they can solve everything. That her life doesn't make sense without him. And that he doesn't need to participate in this fight. But the bully guard at the service entrance wouldn't let her in. He pushed her out of the room, forcing her to wait for the end of the fight. So she stood in the crowd, fiddling with the hem of her white dress that Jay had bought her for their first anniversary. She thought it would reduce the degree of tension between them.

The girl in the red swimsuit and the referee entered the ring, announcing the start of the fight and then the world around her stopped. It was the first time she had seen him in two weeks. All the wounds on his body and face had almost healed and he looked so young but determined that she didn't even recognize him at first. There was something wrong with him... something was definitely wrong. His gaze focused on the mat under his feet, the way he put on gloves with special slowness, and how the muscles in his jaw moved and tensed. He didn't even look into the crowd, as he did before every fight, to see her and get an encouraging smile. JJ Maybank was completely focused on his goal and in some way it scared her.

When Sarah told her on the phone that JJ had been preparing for one main fight of the season for a month. She didn't believe it. He usually chose small daytime fights that earned him a good income. But over the past month, he began to disappear in the evenings, and he began to bring more money, even began to offer her to look for a real house. Not a rented one that they had now, but their personal home. And she was surprised by that, but she did not attach any importance to it. But now... now she realized that all his evening absences and visits with particularly severe beatings, and all this talk about a private home…

A loud roar knocked her out of her thoughts and she turned her gaze back to the ring. JJ lay on his back, covering his face with gloves, while his opponent delivered a series of strong punches, trying to break through the defense. The air seemed to be knocked out of her lungs and she leaned forward, clinging to the bars, breathing heavily.

"JJ!" she screamed before one of the guards forced her to move away.

The guy's whole body tensed up when he heard her voice for the first time in two weeks. And as if at the behest of some force unknown to him before, he turned the man sitting on him over, making a blow. The girl exhaled in surprise, looking at her boyfriend's bloody face. At the rage that distorted his beautiful features, and a wave of goosebumps went through her body. She missed the whole fight, wandering in her thoughts. But now she was watching JJ snatch his victory from the hands of a man who was famous for his violence. And she was even a little proud.

The referee's voice starts counting down to the end. JJ continues to strike without noticing anything around him. The man lies exhausted under him.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

JJ Maybank wins. The crowd is shouting and rejoicing. Drops of beer break and soak into the fabric of her white dress, but she doesn't care. She pushes through the crowd, heading out of the ring to meet him. Her winner and the beloved guy she missed so much.

His arms close around her waist, pulling her to him. She feels the metallic taste of blood in her mouth when he covers her lips with a forceful kiss and for the first time she does not resent it. Her heart beats in time with his as he holds her in his arms and looks into her eyes.

"The last one," he whispers into her hair, kissing the top of her head. She raises her head uncomprehendingly, frowning slightly. "It was the last fight. I... I won't participate anymore."

"Why?" she asks softly and naively, childishly, fluttering her long eyelashes.

The guy grins. She sees his eyes glisten and feels her heart begin to beat faster. Just like that first day when she bumped into him on Midsummer and he spilled the entire champagne tray on her expensive dress. Even then, she somehow realized that she had found the very love here that they write about in books and make films. And it was at that very moment that she already realized that JJ Maybank was her man.

"I don't wanna see y’worry and cry ‘cause of me. I don't wanna see you on the other side of the cage among these nasty men, ‘cause you came to support me. I don't wanna quarrel with you anymore, kitten" His voice was soft and gentle, and so soothing that she felt a rush of butterflies in her stomach again.

"So I found a regular job ‘n I'm gonna be the most ordinary person with the most ordinary life, but with the most fuckingly perfect girl in the whole damn world."

She giggles through her tears and pulls him closer to her, dragging him into another kiss. He doesn't resist. When had he ever refused to kiss her? JJ Maybank was created to kiss and please her. Therefore, at this very moment, he couldn't care about anything more than her in his arms and his lips on his lips.

"Hm! Maybank, I don't want to distract you from your entertainment, but come into my office and pick up your check. Unless, of course, you want to leave me 600 thousand dollars," the head of the bookmaker's office in which Maybank worked chuckled, which made him take his mind off his girlfriend.

He lets go of her waist, and is about to follow the boss. But before that, he turns back to her, pulls her to him, kissing her on the cheek.

"I hope you chose the house, kitten, ‘cause tomorrow we are gonna buy it. Now you definitely won't get rid of me, princess," the guy whispers in her ear, and then disappears into the crowd.

She stands there for a couple more minutes, trying to understand everything he said to her, before breaking into a loving smile and heading for the exit from this evil place, to which she hopes never to return. JJ finds her sitting on a bench outside a couple of minutes later, and they return home, where for the last time, she will heal his wounds and kiss each scar so that they don’t sting so much.

And when the next evening, or a week, or even a month later, JJ Maybank does not go to the basement for another fight, but stays with her in their own house to watch a movie, she can do nothing more, but only enjoy life. And to love a guy who now represents only gentelness, not violence.

JJ Maybank was her gentleness, and she would never let him go.

thankx for reading <3

i'm a little dissatisfied with this work, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway! you can always share your opinion in comments or my inbox :3

- your santi 🪐

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