#At this point it feels like I've been celebrating his birthday for like a full week but dont think about it too hard

[milo-is-rambling]

This image makes me feel so many emotions

[d1stalker]

Collateral Damage [Logan Howlett]

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

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

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

----

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

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

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

Then, out of nowhere, the ground trembles.

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

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

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

Until they show up.

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

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

Maybe they can stop this!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Happy birthday to me, I guess.

—

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

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

The X-Men.

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

Storm. Cyclops. Wolverine. Jean Grey.

Mutants with powers like gods.

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then it hits you.

Oh, no way.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No one hears you, or even acknowledges you.

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

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

This is absurd!

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

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

Boom.

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

Your heart sinks.

They blew it up.

—

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

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

You chuckle, already anticipating the joke, when—

BAM!

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

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

Great, just great.

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

Cyclops.

Are you fucking serious?!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, there goes the last of your patience.

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

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

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

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

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

Silence falls.

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

“Woah, bub—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

You don’t get it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

Knock. Knock.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still, he’s faster.

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

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

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

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

“Can’t control it, bub,” he shrugs. 

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

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

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

“You’re not safe here.”

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

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

You falter. “What are you talking about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That stops you in your tracks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They’re fine without me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That does it. 

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

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

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

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

Both out of sight, he finally releases you. 

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

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

“Follow you where?” you ask. 

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

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

—

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

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

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

I can’t keep this up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It exists solely to hunt you down. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

He was right. You were just getting started.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s too beautiful to ignore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cute, you think absentmindedly, then pause. 

What the fuck?

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

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

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

Yup. That’s it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

– L

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s messing with you on purpose.

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

“Great,” you mutter. “More bad news.”

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

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

He smirks. “You’re gonna need it.”

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

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

—

“So, how can they be stopped?”

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

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

“I gathered that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You want me to be a part of it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sighing, “I’ll think about it.”

—

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

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

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

“How’d it go?” he asks gruffly.

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

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

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

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

He hums softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You quirk a brow. “Then what changed?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So what do I do now?”

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

“Hey, bub.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The city? What city?”

“New York.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can't accept that," you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me?” You blink, caught off guard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where did that come from? 

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t brood,” you glare.

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

“You wouldn’t.”

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up, Summers,” 

“Shut up, One-Eye”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perfect for each other? Yeah, right.

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

You’re screwed.

—

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

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

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

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

You freeze. Who could possibly—

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

Goddamn it. It's always him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And something strikes you—they’re doing it.

They’re minimizing the damage.

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

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

He kept his promise.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t—" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

— —

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

—

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

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

— —

You snap.

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

Weak? Liability?

No. Not this time. 

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

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

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

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

But you don’t stop. You can’t stop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They’re okay. It’s over.

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

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

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

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

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

“I could kiss you right now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey!”

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

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

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

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

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

—

“So… are we gonna talk about it?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Where you goin'?" he rumbles. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That gets him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The sound it elicits from you is lethal. 

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

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

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

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

Your mind goes blank. 

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

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

And you do. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----

A/N: feedback is greatly appreciated!

[ja3yun]

Guess Who?

puppy hybrid!jake x human!reader x puppy hybrid!sunghoon warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, double pen, sensory deprivation (blindfold), oral (f.rec), fingering, knotting, spanking (slight), petnames (pup, baby, baby girl), poly relationship, includes mlm (kissing and humping), jakehoon are cute and hybrids obvs, not proofread, anything else lmk! w.c: 15.1k synopsis: for your 21st birthday, your two devoted puppy hybrid boyfriends decide to help you celebrate in a way only they know how. a/n: hi! i've been mia for nearly three weeks and i'm so sorry! ofc my return had to be for my baby @yzzyhee's birthday! love of my life, i really hope you like this and you have a great day :(( you make my life a million times better and i am so thankful you were born! i love you! p.s i will never make another hybrid fic again, this shit is hard. comments, reblogs, etc are all welcome!!

You unlock the door, the key clicking softly in the lock, and as it creaks open, a hushed murmur greets your ears.

“Shh, she’s coming!” 

“Shut up, she’ll hear you, you idiot!” 

Your brow furrows as you step into the flat, uncertainty settling in your chest. The room is blanketed in near-total darkness, an odd quiet stretching across the air. Faint shadows dance and flicker as if they’re alive, shifting ever so slightly in the blackness. You hesitate on the threshold, taking a breath- click - the lights burst into life, filling the space with a warm, glowing radiance.

The sight before you takes your breath away. The entire room has been transformed, dressed in delicate pink, black, and white ribbons that cascade from the ceiling in beautiful, sweeping spirals. They trail down walls and weave across the furniture, shimmering gently as they catch the light. A large banner stretches across the far wall, the letters in glittering gold spelling out ‘Happy 21st Birthday!’ in an elegant, swirling font. Balloons hover in the corner, two enormous numbers bobbing amid a sea of smaller ones, all in shades of blush, rose, and cream, softly swaying with each movement of air.

It feels like you’ve stepped into a dream, everything so perfectly curated and thoughtful, the air brimming with sweetness. A fond smile spreads across your face, but your attention is soon drawn to the two figures standing in the middle of the room.

Sunghoon and Jake, your two mischievous puppy hybrid boyfriends, are still bickering, their argument continuing even though you’re clearly in the room. They’re adorably oblivious to your presence, caught up in blaming each other for almost ruining the surprise.

“You were supposed to stay quiet!”

“Well, if you hadn’t stepped on that balloon-”

Their argument plays out like a well-rehearsed comedy act. Jake, with his floppy ears twitching in irritation, points accusingly at Sunghoon, whose pointier ears are now folded back in frustration. You watch with amused affection, knowing full well that this dynamic between them is part of the package. Sunghoon is the more serious of the two, precise and calculated, while Jake is more playful, his carefree nature often leading to these light-hearted clashes. The way their ears move is a telltale sign of their emotions, and you’ve come to love how expressive they are without even realising it.

You stifle a giggle and finally decide to make your presence known, clearing your throat. The sound cuts through their argument, both pairs of ears immediately perking up. Sunghoon’s ears shoot upright for a second before they fold back again in a mix of sheepishness and surprise, while Jake’s ears give an almost comical jump as he turns to face you with wide eyes.

“What’s all this?” you ask, your voice warm but teasing as you gesture to the room’s elaborate decorations. Despite your best effort to keep your tone light, you can’t help but feel touched by the effort they’ve put in.

You had told them not to make a big deal out of your birthday this year. You didn’t want any fuss; after all, you’ve always treated birthdays like any other day. A quiet dinner, maybe a movie, nothing more. But you should’ve known better. The boys are nothing if not loyal by nature, and deep down, they both knew that if you came home to no celebration, especially on your 21st birthday, you’d feel a pang of disappointment, even if you tried to hide it.

As soon as you left for uni this morning, they sprung into action. Skipping their own mid-morning classes, they rushed off to the store. It didn’t take long to find the perfect accessories out of your favourite colour scheme. After just over a year together, they knew you inside and out. They picked out everything meticulously, but what warms your heart the most is the extra effort they put into hand-making some of the decorations.

Sunghoon, ever the perfectionist, probably spent hours crafting the intricate paper flowers that now adorn the table, each one delicately folded with precision. Jake likely took charge of blowing up the balloons, glueing gems and bows to their otherwise minimalist surfaces, and arranging them in a way that screams pure enthusiasm. 

They wanted it to be perfect. They wanted you to feel special because, to them, you are special. The thoughtfulness behind every tiny detail, from the glittering banner to the colour of the ribbons, speaks volumes about how much they adore you.

Your mind begins to drift back to the very beginning, to the day you first met them at the university’s human-hybrid mixer. It had been a nerve-wracking event, designed to help bridge the gap between humans and hybrids, building a sense of community. You weren’t quite sure what to expect, but as soon as you walked into that room and laid eyes on them, something shifted inside you. It was instantaneous, like the world had clicked into place. You hadn’t even exchanged words before you felt the tug - something deep, raw, and undeniable pulling you towards them.

Hybrids, you have learned, can experience soul ties with humans. It’s a bond deeper than even the most romanticised ideas of soulmates, more visceral and primal. There’s no logical explanation for it, but once it happens, it’s unbreakable. That’s what had happened between the three of you. From the moment you met, there was no going back.

Sure enough, Sunghoon and Jake felt it too, that sense of loyalty, affection, and devotion that goes beyond anything they had ever experienced. Soul ties like this usually only happen between one hybrid and one human, yet they both felt that magnetic pull to your heart. The day after the mixer, they had sat down together, the atmosphere between them heavy with the weight of this newfound connection. It hadn’t been easy. The bond between them and you was so intense, neither of them wanted to lose the chance to be with you, but they couldn’t bring themselves to fight over you either.

They talked for hours that day, confessing how deeply they felt drawn to you. Neither wanted to step aside for the other, but at the same time, they couldn’t imagine you with just one of them. It wasn’t until the conversation led to you - when they thought about how you might feel - that the solution became clear. It wasn’t about competition or winning you over. It was about all three of you, together.

Being best friends, they always joked about being tied to one another too in some way, whether platonic or not. Their love for one another has been there ever since they first met, not a soul tie, but definitely something. That fact just made their decision final; both of them would have you.

When they finally brought the conversation to you, you’d been surprised, of course. The idea of being in a relationship with two people, much less two puppy hybrids, was a lot to process. But you couldn’t deny the pull. That inexplicable bond had wound itself around your heart, and no matter how much you tried to rationalise it, you felt it just as intensely as they did. Eventually, the apprehension faded, and you gave in to the inevitable.

And now, here you are, standing in the middle of your flat, staring at your boyfriends who have gone to great lengths to make your 21st birthday special. 

Jake is the first to make his move, skipping towards you with the kind of joyful energy that’s distinctly him. His wide, boyish grin grows even larger the closer he gets. He practically leaps into your arms, winding himself around you like an affectionate puppy, arms squeezing you tightly as though he might never let go.

“Happy birthday, Y/N!” he says, his voice filled with excitement, the words almost a little breathless from his eagerness.

You laugh, wrapping your arms around him just as tightly. With Jake, it’s always like this - his hugs are all-consuming, full of warmth and enthusiasm. His body presses against yours, not just with strength but with an earnestness that’s pure and unguarded. It feels like he’s trying to merge your two bodies together, as though the closeness could never be enough. He nuzzles into your neck, his breath hot against your skin, and you can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes you in, basking in the comfort of your touch.

Jake loves being affectionate, perhaps more than anything. He thrives on physical contact - the soft pressure of your hand against his, the way your fingers thread through his hair, or the way your bodies fit together when he wraps you up in one of his bone-crushing hugs. It’s as if every moment spent apart from you is too long, and when he finally has you in his arms, he can’t help but revel in the feeling of having you close.

His head rests against your shoulder, his floppy ears brushing your cheek as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. There’s a kind of vulnerability in how open he is, how unabashedly he shows his love for you. His body, though strong and lithe, feels almost like a blanket of warmth around you, cocooning you in his affections. He never holds back - whether it’s a kiss, a hug, or just the way he lingers close to you, as if you’re the only thing keeping him grounded.

Sunghoon approaches with a more measured pace, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he watches Jake all but smother you. There’s no rush in his steps - he’s content to let Jake have his moment. He’s always been the more reserved one, the quiet presence beside Jake’s exuberance. But that doesn’t mean he loves you any less; his affection is simply more silent, more subtle, yet just as deep.

When Sunghoon reaches you, he gives a light pet on your head, his touch gentle but firm. Then, with a soft breath, he leans down and places a feather-light kiss on your lips. It’s not hurried or overly eager, but the tenderness in it makes your heart flutter. “Happy birthday, baby,” he murmurs, his voice a little lower, intimate.

While Jake is excitable, Sunghoon’s affection is steadier, more controlled but just as sincere. He’s a border collie hybrid, after all, a little more relaxed than Jake’s golden retriever mix. Sunghoon’s affection comes through in smaller gestures - a brush of his fingers against your arm, a lingering glance, or a kiss placed gently on your forehead when no one’s looking. He’s not as overt as Jake, but the intensity of his love is undeniable, simmering just below the surface, waiting to be felt in those quieter moments.

You shift one of your arms from Jake’s back and lift it to scratch behind Sunghoon’s ear, knowing full well how much he enjoys it. His eyes close slightly, and a faint smile curves his lips as he leans into your touch, savouring the sensation.

“Thank you,” you say softly, looking between the two of them. “Both of you. But you really didn’t have to do all of this.”

Jake’s head lifts from your shoulder, his face full of adoration as he looks at you, his brows pulling together just enough to show how deeply he feels. “We wanted to,” he says earnestly, his voice softening in the way it does when he’s especially emotional. His floppy ears jitter a little as his eyes search yours, a mix of happiness and tenderness reflecting in them.

Standing beside him, Sunghoon nods in quiet agreement. There’s no need for him to say anything; you can feel his love just in the way he gazes at you, calm but unwavering. For him, the effort was never a chore - it was an expression of something deeper, something he couldn’t quite put into words but hoped you’d feel in every ribbon hung, every balloon tied, every delicate touch that went into creating this moment.

You can feel a tightness in your chest as their love surrounds you, almost tangible in the air between the three of you. Your heart swells with emotion, and for a second, you’re not sure what to say. What can you say to thank them for this? Words hardly seem enough to capture the overwhelming gratitude, the pure affection you feel for them both.

Reaching up to your face and breaking the hug, Jake brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingertips lingering on your cheek, warm and gentle. His eyes, dark and soft, reflect his adoration for you. There’s a purity in Jake’s love - a kind of innocence that comes with his boundless energy and enthusiasm. He doesn’t need to hide it or temper it. His affection is full-force, all-consuming, and it’s impossible not to be swept up in it.

“We actually didn’t just want to,” Jake says after a moment, his voice still soft but tinged with that familiar playful sincerity. “We had to. You deserve it. You deserve more than this.”

There’s something in the way he says it that makes your breath catch in your throat. His tone is so earnest, his belief in what he’s saying so unwavering, that you feel your cheeks warm slightly under his gaze. Jake has always had this way of making you feel like you’re the most important person in the world - like he’s constantly in awe of the fact that you’re his.

“You know we couldn’t let today go by without doing something,” Sunghoon murmurs, his voice a little lower, more intimate. “It’s your 21st, after all.”

His hand moves to the small of your back, guiding you into a gentle embrace. Sunghoon’s touch is gentle but commanding, like he’s savouring each second of closeness. He doesn’t rush; he never does. Instead, he pulls you into his side slowly, his body warm against yours. 

For a moment, you’re caught between the two of them - Jake’s eager touch on one side, Sunghoon’s soft and subtle presence on the other - and it strikes you just how perfectly balanced everything feels. The way they complement each other is something you’ve come to love more than anything. 

You will never understand why more people don’t have a poly relationship like this. But then again, you three are special, connected by fate.

Pulling back slightly, you look at both of them, a smile tugging at your lips. “You guys are too much,” you say, shaking your head fondly. “But I’m not complaining.”

Jake’s grin stretches across his face, his eyes lighting up at your words. “Good!” he exclaims, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you in for another quick, excited squeeze. “Because there’s more!”

Sunghoon lets out a small chuckle beside you, shaking his head at Jake’s enthusiasm. “We may have gone a little overboard,” he admits, though there’s no hint of regret in his tone. If anything, he seems quietly pleased with how everything has turned out.

Jake steps back, his hand slipping into yours as he tugs you towards the centre of the room, where the table is set up. “Come on, we’ve got cake!”

Yanking you toward the table, Jake gestures you to a spot on the dining table where a heart-shaped cake sits proudly in the centre, stealing the spotlight among the delicate decorations. It’s adorned with soft pink frosting that traces a neat border around the edges, forming a perfect frame for the simple yet heartfelt message written in slightly uneven, hand-lettered icing: Happy 21st Birthday, Y/N. The pink lettering pops against the soft cream-coloured surface of the cake, and small cherries dot the edges, adding a bright touch of red. Around the base, tiny white pearls encircle the cake, giving it a touch of elegance.

Your smile widens as you take in the cake’s beauty. “This is so…” you begin, laughter bubbling up as you admire the thoughtful details. “You guys didn’t make this, did you?”

“Fuck no,” Jake laughs, eyes sparkling with mischief as he swipes a finger across the back of the cake, scooping up a dollop of frosting. He waves it playfully in front of your lips, teasing you with the sweet temptation. “We’re talented, but not this talented.”

Without missing a beat, you lean forward and suck the frosting off his finger, your tongue brushing against his skin. Jake’s ears twitch in excitement, his eyes widening, and his smile turns bashful, almost shy. His floppy ears, always so expressive, bounce with joy as he watches you enjoy the taste. The frosting is sweet, creamy, and delicate on your tongue, the perfect combination of sugary delight and subtle flavour. You nod in appreciation, your eyes flicking between Jake and Sunghoon.

“It’s amazing,” you say, licking the last bit of frosting off your lips. “Thank you.”

Sunghoon, who’s been watching the two of you with a soft, amused expression, steps forward. “We can have some after presents,” he says, his voice smooth and calm. He reaches behind the table, and your curiosity piques as he pulls out three carefully wrapped boxes, each one tied with a neat ribbon.

Your heart flutters with anticipation as you sit down, the three gifts now laid out in front of you. “You guys didn’t have to-”

“Stop saying that!” Jake interrupts with a laugh, his tail wagging in spirit if he had one. “Just open them!”

With a smile, you carefully tug the ribbon on the first box and peel back the wrapping paper. The box is sleek and black, and as you open it, a familiar scent hits you before you even see what’s inside. It’s the Prada perfume you’ve been eyeing at the store for weeks, the one you always stopped to test but never quite convinced yourself to splurge on. Your breath catches as you lift the bottle from the box, its elegant design glimmering in the light.

“You remembered,” you whisper, your fingers tracing the smooth glass.

Sunghoon smiles softly, his eyes meeting yours. “Of course we did. We noticed how you always looked at it, and we wanted to make sure you had it.”

“Plus it gives us an excuse you smell you,” Jake adds, already imagining all the ways he can attach his lips to your neck and wrists, engulfing his senses in your new scent. Jake loves to sniff you, to know every note of your aura, it’s intoxicating. He thinks your natural scent is the most delicious though.

You feel a warmth spread through your chest, touched by the thoughtfulness of their gesture. The aroma of the perfume lingers in the air as you place it back in the box, turning your attention to the second gift.

The next box is smaller, and when you open it, your heart skips a beat. It’s a mixtape, decorated with a simple hand-drawn label featuring little doodles of stars, hearts, and music notes. You can’t help but giggle softly as you look over the list of songs, recognising some of your favourite artists immediately - Olivia Rodrigo, Sabrina Carpenter, and a mix of other singers you love.

“We put all your favourites on there,” Sunghoon says, his voice tinged with pride. “And a couple of new ones you might like, or songs that make us think of you.”

You run your fingers over the tape, your smile growing. “This is so sweet,” you say, glancing up at them. “I love it.”

The gift is thoughtful, so much time and effort to select every song, place them in order, and decorate the label. It’s gifts like these that make you feel understood and known, that it’s not just a gift someone bought because they had to get you a present, but a declaration of their adoration and understanding of you as a person. It’s cliche, sure, but you love it all the same and will cherish it for the rest of your life.

You don’t have the heart to tell them you don’t own a cassett player though...

But the third box is the one that truly tugs at your heartstrings. It’s a little larger than the others, and as you carefully untie the ribbon, your eyes land on the softest, fluffiest star-shaped plush toy you’ve ever seen. Its smile is embroidered in delicate stitches, and its squishy texture is irresistible. You can’t help but let out a soft pout as you hold it up, hugging it to your chest with a small pout of delight.

Jake grins, clearly pleased with your reaction, but before you can say anything, he nudges you lightly. “Wait, there’s more. Look inside the box.”

You place the plush aside, curiosity blooming as you peer back into the box. At the bottom, there’s a small envelope. You pull it out and open it, revealing a certificate. Your eyes widen as you read the words, the meaning sinking in.

This is to certify that the star, Vega, in the constellation of Lyra has been named in honour of Y/N L/N.

You look up at them in disbelief, your heart swelling with emotion. “You…you bought me a star?”

And not just any star, but Vega, one of the brightest stars in the night sky. It appears mostly in summer, which is exactly the season you all started dating, the same season in which you saw the beautiful star and marvelled at all its hope and wonder. It represented you, the puppies knew that, you shine brighter than anyone else in their life, and with the sun unable to purchase, Vega was the next best thing.

Jake nods, his eyes filled with excitement. “To show you that you’re always a part of our universe.”

Sunghoon steps closer, his hand resting on the small of your back. “We wanted something that would last forever, just like…well, just like us.”

Tears well in your eyes, not because of the star or the gifts, but because of the love behind them - the thought, the care, the intention to make you feel special in a way only they could. You’re at a loss for words, but your expression says it all. They’ve made you feel like the centre of the universe.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion as you look between them.

Jake pulls you into another tight hug while Sunghoon rests his hand on your back, the solid warmth of his presence grounding you in the moment. They’re everything to you, and today, they’ve made sure you know how much you mean to them.

Sunghoon moves closer, his hand steady on your back as his other gently cups your cheek, wiping away the tears that have slipped down without you even noticing. His touch is delicate, and the concern in his eyes makes your heart ache with tenderness. “You’re so precious to us, Y/N,” he says softly, his voice almost a whisper. “I know this might not be much, but I hope you like it.”

You let out a quiet scoff, the absurdity of his words catching you off guard. Not much? How could he possibly think that? This - all of this - was more than anything anyone had ever done for you. The decorations, the gifts, the thought they had put into every detail...It was overwhelming, in the best possible way. You shake your head, a mixture of disbelief and affection swirling within you.

“Not much?” you repeat, your voice thick with emotion. “Are you kidding? This is everything. More than I could have wanted.”

“Good,” Jake exclaims behind you, “Because we aren’t done yet.”

Jake's grin grows impossibly wider as he bounces on his heels, clearly unable to contain his excitement. You tilt your head at him, feigning curiosity. "What do you mean?" you ask, eyeing him playfully.

Leaning into your ear, Sunghoon’s low chuckle sends a shiver down your spine. His breath brushes the sensitive skin just below your earlobe, making your heart race a little faster. “Jake’s set up a few games for us to play. His idea, not mine," he murmurs, his lips grazing your ear in a way that feels both teasing and intimate. "I can’t take credit if you enjoy it,” he adds before nibbling at your earlobe, a subtle smirk playing on his lips. “But if you don’t, I’m definitely not taking the blame.”

His mischievous whisper ignites warmth in your chest, but before you can respond, Jake comes bounding back, arms full of props. He’s beaming, the kind of uncontainable energy that only comes from him in moments like this - utterly contagious.

“Okay!” Jake exclaims, barely containing his excitement. “So, you need to choose between one and three.” He hides the items behind his back, swaying his hips like an eager child waiting for you to pick. His whole body vibrates with anticipation, his floppy ears bouncing slightly as he waits, his grin impossibly wide. He’s so irresistibly adorable like this that you can’t help but laugh softly at his excitement.

You look up at the ceiling, pretending to think long and hard, your eyes dancing with playful mischief. The corners of your lips twitch as you hum dramatically, one finger resting on your chin. “Hmm... let’s go with one!” you announce, drawing the word out for effect.

Jake’s excitement explodes as he reveals his choice: two large, fuzzy fake tails in a variety of colours. Sunghoon’s immediate groan is deep and regretful, contrasting sharply with Jake’s pure glee.

“Not this one,” Sunghoon mutters under his breath, sounding utterly exasperated.

Curiosity piqued, you raise an eyebrow. “What is it?” you ask, looking between the two of them. Their polar opposite reactions have you intrigued.

“Pin the tail on the hybrid,” they answer in unison - Sunghoon’s voice low and filled with immediate regret, while Jake practically bounces with enthusiasm.

Jake clearly had a hand in creating this game and you can't help but laugh as the details slowly click into place. Since hybrids like Jake and Sunghoon, who are part of the newer generation, don’t have tails, Jake had come up with the idea of mimicking a playful, somewhat childish game like ‘Pin the Tail on the Donkey,’ but with a hybrid twist.

"Wait-" you laugh, holding your sides as the image fully forms in your mind, "Is it a butt plug or something?"

Both of them freeze, looking at you with wide eyes and a mixture of shock and disbelief.

"No!" Jake shakes his head so vigorously that his floppy ears bounce wildly. "Blindfolding you and having you wielding a metal butt plug doesn’t sound very safe." His lips twist in playful dismay, but he quickly regains his sunny disposition, his excitement bouncing back full force. “I’ve got little Velcro patches, see? We each take turns, and you try and pin it on us until you get one right.”

You’re still giggling, the absurdity of it all getting to you. “So, I’m pinning tails on you guys?”

“Yes…” Sunghoon groans again, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s...so embarrassing.” He sounds thoroughly defeated, but you know him too well by now. There’s no real annoyance behind his words - just that reluctant indulgence that comes when Jake’s happiness is at stake. And there’s something adorable about how much he’s willing to go along with Jake’s excitement, even if it isn’t to his taste.

Jake skips over to Sunghoon with unrestrained glee and, without any warning, gives Sunghoon’s backside a playful smack, placing the large Velcro circle right where it needs to go. “You’re first, Hoonie!” Jake declares with a mischievous grin, fluttering his lashes at the Border Collie.

Sunghoon sighs, resigned to his fate. “Great,” he mutters, shooting you a look that’s half annoyed, half amused as he walks over to the couch, using the armrest as an X on the ground.

Not wasting any time, Jake turns to you with the blindfold in his hand, eyes gleaming with joy. “Your turn, Y/N.” He steps closer, moving with a deliberate slowness that makes the air between you spark with a new kind of tension.

As he reaches up to gently tie the blindfold around your head, his fingers graze the nape of your neck, sending goosebumps down your spine. His movements are slow, almost sensual. You feel the softness of the fabric brush against your skin as he secures the blindfold, but it’s the way his lips hover close to your neck that really makes your breath catch.

Jake doesn’t stop there. He lets his lips trail a gentle kiss down the curve of your neck, his breath warm and teasing against your skin. “You look so good like this,” he murmurs softly, his voice dripping with playful affection. It’s a mix of excitement and something deeper - something that sends your pulse racing.

If there is one thing Jake loves to do, it’s send your mind in a tizzy. Behind all the fun and gleefulness of his nature, comes those dog-like sexual urges. He changes so rapidly that you get emotional whiplash, only adding to the tingles you feel all over your body. 

This also isn’t the first time he’s blindfolded you, so the memories of those nights with his cock pounding into you as you stare into darkness come flooding back, settling deep into your stomach.

His hands linger on your shoulders, fingers squeezing gently before he steps back, leaving you standing there, blindfolded and just a little breathless.

“You ready?” Jake’s voice is light, teasing, and you can almost hear the grin on his face as he spanks you, much like he did Sunghoon only a minute ago.

You nod, unable to suppress a smile. “Ready.”

With the blindfold in place, you hear Sunghoon shuffle awkwardly in front of you. “This is ridiculous,” he mutters, though there’s a faint hint of amusement in his voice. You can practically hear his smirk, even if you can’t see it.

Jake giggles in the background, clearly enjoying himself. “Alright, baby,” he says, guiding your hands toward one of the tails. “Let’s see how good your aim is.”

As you take a few tentative steps towards Sunghoon, your hand reaches out instinctively, fingers hovering just above his body, ready to feel for the perfect spot. But before you can make contact, Jake’s playful voice cuts through the air.

“No touching! That’s cheating!” he chides, chuckling behind you with a cheeser on his face.

Huffing, you concede to his rules, pulling your hand back and placing it behind your back. You focus harder now, relying on your instincts to guide you. You can hear Sunghoon shifting slightly, likely in quiet amusement at your predicament, but he remains silent, waiting.

With your free hand, you move the tail towards where you think his lower back is, feeling proud of your guess. You press the Velcro onto his body, releasing the fluffy tail with a satisfied nod.

Pulling off the blindfold, you blink a few times to adjust to the light. As your vision clears, you burst into laughter. The tail sits just above Sunghoon’s lower back, nowhere near where it should be. You glance at him, expecting him to grumble, but instead, he’s biting back a smirk, his lips twitching as he stares down at the misaligned tail.

Jake laughs from the side but is supportive, ever your cheerleader. “I think it was okay!” he chirps, always the optimist when it comes to you. To be fair, it was closer than you thought you’d manage.

“Me next!” Jake announces, barely giving you a moment to catch your breath. The game continues, full of light banter and laughter as you go back and forth between pinning tails on Jake and Sunghoon. Each time, you aim for the perfect spot but always fall just a little short, earning chuckles and teasing remarks from both of them.

Finally, after a few failed attempts, you manage to stick a tail exactly where it belongs. You cheer loudly, jumping up and down in triumph. “Knew I could get one!” you exclaim, spinning around in a small victory dance.

As you twirl in triumph, your victory cry still echoing in the air, you catch a glimpse of Jake and Sunghoon exchanging glances. Their smirks deepen, a silent exchange of thoughts that sends a ripple through the room. The laughter fades, and suddenly, the lighthearted atmosphere shifts. There’s a weight to the air now, something simmering beneath the surface. It makes your pulse quicken, a flicker of awareness spreading through you. You feel the intensity in how their eyes trace your movements, lingering a beat too long.

Sunghoon steps forward, his gaze sharp and unwavering, and for the first time in the game, his tone has lost its playful edge. "Put the blindfold back on," he says. His voice, once light and teasing, now carries a gravity that sends a shiver cascading down your spine. It's not a request - it's an instruction. The room seems to tighten around you, the shift in his voice enough to steal the breath from your lungs.

Your fingers tremble slightly as you reach for the blindfold. The fabric feels different this time as you slip it over your eyes, no longer just a tool for the game but something that heightens the tension. Darkness envelops you, and in the absence of sight, your other senses heighten. You feel the thudding of your heart in your chest, the way your breathing speeds up, shallow and anticipatory.

The room falls quiet - eerily so. The only sounds are soft footsteps and the faint rustling of fabric, too faint to locate. Without your sight, every shift in the air feels magnified, every sound sharper. The unmistakable sound of Velcro tearing apart makes you inhale sharply. You can picture it in your mind, the boys silently stripping the patches from their trousers, and though you can’t see, the tension thickens in your throat. You don’t know what they’re planning, but the unspoken intensity between you all leaves your skin prickling.

So you aren’t playing another round…

The moment you realise the game has shifted is when you feel their warmth surrounding you, enclosing you in a cocoon of sensation. Sunghoon's fingers find your waist, his touch firm yet teasing, while Jake's hands glide against your thighs, his fingers brushing against your skin with an excruciatingly slow reverence. The air feels thick, heady, charged with something that goes beyond playfulness, the space between you electric.

Sunghoon’s breath tickles your ear as he leans in, his voice dropping into a sultry murmur that sends shivers down your spine. "How about another game?" he asks, the dark edge in his tone making your knees tremble.

Your throat feels tight as you try to keep your voice steady. "Sure...what one?" you manage to whisper, though your breath is unsteady, betraying the fluttering anticipation in your chest.

"A guessing game," Sunghoon replies smoothly, and even blindfolded, you can sense the smirk on his lips. His fingers move to sweep your hair aside, gathering it loosely at the nape of your neck. His touch lingers there, sending warmth radiating through your skin.

Jake doesn’t miss the opportunity, his lips finding the tender skin of your jaw. He places soft, deliberate kisses, slow and torturous, trailing down to your collarbone. The warmth of his breath fans across your skin, each kiss building a slow, insistent heat that coils deep within you.

Your voice catches. "What...what kind of guessing game?" you ask, your words shaky, barely holding onto the thread of conversation as their touch unravels you.

"You have to guess which one of us is touching you," Sunghoon explains, his voice dripping with mischief as Jake begins to pull your t-shirt from your body, his lips back on your chest as he kisses gently along the top of your breast and down their valley. His lips pause just below your ribcage, his breath warm against your skin, but the heat building inside you is anything but halted. 

Your breath hitches. You can’t help but let out a soft gasp as Jake’s kisses become more insistent, his mouth grazing your skin, making it impossible to concentrate. His hands hover at the waistband of your trousers, fingertips skimming just above your hips, a teasing, electric touch that sends waves of pleasure through your core. Each kiss, each brush of his lips, sets your nerves alight, and you can barely think straight, let alone guess who’s doing what.

A weak laugh escapes you. "Well, that's obviously Jake," you joke, trying to keep up the banter, though your voice is shaky and thin, completely betraying the desire threading through every word. Jake’s lips move lower still, his kisses drawing along your stomach, each one leaving you more breathless than the last. You can feel his breath, warm and tantalising against your skin, and your heart pounds in response, your body humming with need.

Before you can register just how far Jake has taken you, Sunghoon’s hand cups your jaw, tilting your face toward him. His lips meet yours in a kiss so soft, so slow, it melts away any remaining thought. His touch is tender but commanding, pulling you deeper into the moment as his other hand weaves through your hair. The intensity of his kiss drowns out everything else, making you forget who is where, or even that there was a game at all.

When he finally breaks away, Sunghoon’s voice is thick with amusement, a smile lingering on his lips as he murmurs against yours, "It’s not going to be that easy, baby." His words hold a promise, his tone teasing, yet filled with something deeper, something that makes your pulse quicken. Even though you can’t see the mischievous glint in his eyes, you feel it in the way he pulls back just enough to leave you wanting more.

Then, without warning, Sunghoon pushes you gently onto the couch, the plush cushions sinking beneath you as you fall back. He looms over you, ears perked up into points, his presence commanding and filled with intent. The game is no longer just playful; it’s something much more serious now - something charged with tension and need.

“You need to guess correctly…or else,” Sunghoon’s voice is both teasing and dark, a quiet threat hidden beneath his words. It sends a shiver down your spine, the thrill of the unknown building between the three of you.

“Or else what?” you ask, trying to sound defiant but failing miserably as your voice comes out in little more than a breathless whisper. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you wait for the answer, your body buzzing with excitement and wonder.

Jake chuckles from below, his mouth hovering over your waist, his breath tickling your skin as he speaks. “Or else you don’t get to cum,” he says, his voice playful, but there’s a heat beneath his words that tells you you’re night is going to be a long and teasingly painful one.

But then again, that all depends on you and your guessing abilities. 

Sunghoon’s hands glide up your thighs, parting your legs gently as he leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “And trust me, baby, you’ll want to cum…” His breath fans across your skin, sending goosebumps erupting along your arms.

The combination of their teasing and your own mounting desire creates a cocktail of anticipation that leaves you dizzy. You’re torn between the thrill of the game and the very real yearning for release. You can feel the heat radiating from both of them, their excitement palpable as they prepare to test your ability to guess who is who.

“Okay,” you manage to whisper, trying to regain some semblance of control. “I’ll try.” You don’t want to give in too easily, but the way their touches make your body sing makes it increasingly difficult to think straight.

Jake giggles, the sound light and carefree despite the charged atmosphere. “Let’s see if you can guess who’s touching you,” he says, still hovering at your waist, the anticipation palpable in his tone. You can feel the warmth of his body radiating toward you, heightening your senses even more.

“Ready for a little practice before the real game begins?” Sunghoon asks, his voice low and seductive. You nod, your heart pounding as the thrill of the unknown rushes through you.

With both of them positioned strategically around you, you can barely keep track of where they are. The game begins with Sunghoon’s fingers trailing down your sides, exploring the curves of your body with a feather-light touch. It sends shivers racing down your spine, and you bite your lip to suppress a moan.

“Who’s this?” he asks, his voice smooth and sultry, urging you to focus.

“Sunghoon?” you guess, feeling the familiar warmth and the teasing nature of his touch.

“Correct,” he replies, a smirk evident in his tone. But before you can fully revel in your success, Jake’s hands slip around your waist, his fingers playing with the hem of your trousers, teasing you with a brush of his lips along your skin.

The golden retriever's long fingers undo your jeans button and pull them down, your hips lifting instinctively to help get them off, showcasing your eagerness to play their game. Jake discards them, tossing them so they hit a few of your birthday balloons scattered on the floor. 

Both of them stand towering over you as you sink into the couch, heart pounding with happiness and anticipation as you breathe out shakily. You hear them switch places a few times, circling one another in an attempt to trick you. But you know your puppy hybrids better than anyone in the world, and you certainly know how they both touch you.

This should be easy. A walk in the park.

Giving each other a look, Sunghoon and Jake both kneel down in front of you, smirks plastered on their faces and excitement evident in their growing members, concealed by their trousers. You can feel their eyes on you, drinking in the sight of you sprawled on the couch, your body reacting to the closeness of their touch. The heat between you all is palpable, and it sends a fresh wave of arousal coursing through your veins.

Without a word, they move in synchrony, their hands gently tugging at the waistband of your thong. One of them, most likely Jake from the playful way his fingers brush against your skin, hooks his fingers into the lace fabric and begins to pull it down. His touch is soft yet deliberate, teasing you with the slow pace as the fabric slides down your thighs.

You lift your hips, allowing them to fully strip you, your skin flushing with warmth as your body is exposed to their gaze. There’s a moment of stillness as the thong hits the floor, and you can feel both sets of eyes on you. 

Sunghoon’s hands are the first to make contact again, his palms gliding over your hips before settling on your thighs, spreading them apart gently but firmly. His movements are slow, measured, and you can feel his breath ghosting over your inner thighs, so close yet not close enough. Jake, on the other hand, remains at your waist, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of your stomach, teasing kisses trailing lower.

They seem to have fallen into a rhythm, taking turns with their touches, each one designed to make you squirm in anticipation. The contrast between Sunghoon’s steady, calculated touch and Jake’s more playful, teasing approach is driving you to the edge, the tension building with every second. You can easily guess who is who right now.

But how much longer?

Gripping your ankles, each of the puppies lifts a leg, placing it gently over one of their shoulders. Their bodies are now intertwined together, making this game more difficult; their voices and touches are all coming from one place, and with your mind set on a high of horny, clouds are forming your judgement.

With your legs draped over their broad shoulders, the pressure of their firm grips against your thighs and the heat of their breath makes it impossible to focus on anything but them. Each breath you take is shallow, and the room feels electric, thick with the tension they’ve woven into the air. You try to steady yourself, but your mind is already spinning, teetering between confusion and desire as they work in tandem.

The hybrid aspect of them is something you’ve become accustomed to in daily life - their heightened senses, and the way they move with an innate grace. But now, their abilities seem even further elevated, their touches more precise, almost animalistic. It’s like they’re hunting you, knowing exactly how to drive you wild without giving you what you crave.

The golden retriever hybrid, starts first, his tongue flicking out to give the lightest of touches to your clit. The sensation is maddening. It’s so gentle you almost don’t know it’s happening, but the effect it has on you is immediate. A ripple of heat shoots through you, making you squirm, but before you can even process the sensation, his mouth pulls away. Your legs twitch, instinctively trying to move closer to any of their mouths, but he keeps his distance, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you still.

Your breath catches as you feel the faintest brush of lips - no, teeth - against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Jake’s hybrid nature makes his bites more playful, but there’s a sharp edge to it that sends goosebumps over your skin. He grazes his teeth over your thigh before sinking in just enough to leave a mark. You gasp, the sting quickly replaced by warmth, and the pulsing heat of your growing arousal.

And then...they switch. You can’t see them, but you can feel the subtle differences in their movements, yet it’s hard to know who is touching you at any given moment. One of them trails their fingers down your side, slow and feather-light, sending shivers all the way down your spine. It’s the gentleness that throws you off. Jake is usually more eager, a little more frantic, but this touch...it’s deliberate, controlled. It must be Sunghoon, you think, but as the fingers curl around your waist, the next lick to your clit has you second-guessing everything.

"Unfair," you breathe out, your voice betraying your frustration. Their soft chuckles are the only response, and the way they both sound so amused makes your stomach tighten with anticipation. You think you hear Jake’s distinctive laugh, that bright, carefree sound, but then a warm breath against your stomach has your mind spinning again. You can’t keep track of who’s where, their movements seamless, like two wolves circling their prey.

Another agonisingly slow lick - Sunghoon, maybe? - and you buck your hips forward, trying to chase the sensation. Before you can go any further, teeth sink into your other thigh, another mark, another reminder of their strength. His soft, canine growl sends a thrill of excitement through you, but you’re torn between which sensation to focus on - the teasing bite or the flick of a tongue against your most sensitive spot.

Desperate for something to hold onto, your hand instinctively reaches down, fingers tangling in the nearest head of hair, but before you can fully grab hold, a hand swats yours away. “No touching,” Sunghoon commands, his voice low and controlled; it’s too easy if you feel their ears, both hybrids distinctive just by their shape alone. You drop your hands, frustrated but obedient, gripping the cushions beneath you instead as you moan out in helpless need.

They switch again, and now there’s no way to tell who is doing what. Jake’s usually sloppy enthusiasm and Sunghoon’s precise control blend together so seamlessly it feels like they’re working as one. The sensation of their tongues flicking against you is almost maddening. Slow, singular licks that keep you on the edge, but never quite tipping you over. It’s a maddening torment, like a slow burn just beneath your skin.

The heat between your legs grows unbearable as their tongues move with the same deliberate, precise motions, as if they know exactly how to keep you guessing. They’re hybrids, after all - capable of teasing you with both their human intelligence and their canine prowess. And they’re using every bit of that duality to toy with you, their mouths working in a rhythm that’s far too coordinated for your sanity.

A hand moves between your legs, and fingers slide into you slowly, drawing out a long, drawn-out moan from your lips. The stretch feels heavenly, but the pace is infuriating. One finger curls inside you, and your mind races. Sunghoon always moves like this, calculated, hitting the exact spot that makes you see stars. You gasp his name, “Sunghoon,” the word tumbling from your lips in a breathy moan.

The fingers pause for a moment before continuing, confirming your guess with a small squeeze on your thigh, but there’s no verbal answer. Instead, the teasing continues as Jake’s mouth returns to your clit, adding just enough pressure to keep you gasping, but not enough to let you cum.

The world around you fades, a haze settling over your mind as the pleasure intensifies. The rhythmic lapping of two tongues against your folds creates a symphony of sensations that overwhelms your senses. Both Jake and Sunghoon kiss your heat, growling into you as your juices melt along their tongues. It’s as if they’ve perfectly synced their movements, each flick and swirl of their tongues igniting a fire deep within you.

Jake’s mouth works expertly against your clit, the pressure alternating between firm and feather-light, sending shockwaves of bliss coursing through your body. You can barely keep track of who’s who anymore, their hybrid natures blurring the lines between their human dexterity and animalistic instincts. One moment, you feel the warmth of Sunghoon’s fingers curling deep inside you, stretching you, filling you in a way that makes your back arch and your breaths come out in desperate gasps. The next, Jake’s playful tongue sweeps over you, teasing and tantalising, each movement pushing you closer to the edge.

As more fingers sink into your heat, the delicious stretch turns into something euphoric, each thrust inside you mixing with the delightful flick of tongues around your clit. Your body responds instinctively, thrusting forward, seeking more as you become lost in the sensations they’re creating. It’s an exquisite torture, every nerve ending alight, every touch sending you spiralling deeper into a world of pleasure.

“Please,” you beg, the word slipping from your lips in a breathless whimper, but it’s swallowed by the sounds of their movements. You’re a mess of need and desire, the heat pooling in your core building to an unbearable level as they work you closer to the edge. It’s like they’re reading your body, understanding the ebb and flow of your pleasure better than you do yourself.

Sunghoon focuses on his fingers scissor inside you, curling just right, while Jake alternates between suckling and licking your clit, ensuring that every sensation is heightened. You can feel your climax tightening, like a coiled spring ready to snap, but just as you think you’re about to tumble over, they pull back slightly, slowing their pace to keep you hovering right on the brink.

“God, don’t stop!” you cry out, the frustration laced with desperation. They only chuckle, the sound low and teasing, as if relishing in your torment. It’s maddening, and yet, it sends another wave of heat coursing through you.

Then, with no warning, they both lean in closer, their mouths working in unison, each tongue exploring every inch of you. It’s as if they’ve forgotten all the rules of teasing and have decided to push you over the edge together. The sensation is overwhelming, the combination of their soft, wet tongues swirling around your sensitive core and the expert thrusts of Sunghoon’s fingers. You feel your body arching, trembling under their skilled ministrations as your mind starts to blur, the world outside slipping away completely.

“Y/N…guess, baby,” Sunghoon whispers, but it’s muffled by the rush of blood in your ears. You’re too far gone, too lost in the sensations to respond, too consumed by the need surging through you.

With every lap of their tongues, every curl of their fingers, they bring you closer and closer to that precipice. You can feel it building, a tight knot of pleasure coiling within you, and as they pick up their pace, the intensity increases, making your breaths come in short gasps. You’re teetering, just one more push away from falling over the edge into bliss, but they don’t give you that release just yet.

You feel Jake’s mouth pull back momentarily, but before you can process the loss, Sunghoon’s fingers plunge deeper, hitting that sweet spot that has you crying out his name again, louder this time. The sound reverberates off the walls, mixing with the cacophony of your heavy breathing and the wet sounds of their tongues.

“Come on, baby,” Jake urges, his voice low and sultry, but the words barely register as another wave of pleasure washes over you, leaving you breathless. You grip the cushions tightly, knuckles white with the effort to hold on, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult.

Jake’s mouth returns to your clit with a renewed fervour, his tongue swirling around it in that way only he knows how, your guess at the tip of your tongue. His lips seal around you, creating the perfect amount of pressure, sending jolts of pleasure shooting up your spine. It’s a feeling so familiar, yet it never loses its power to make your body melt under his touch.

Your back arches off the couch, a sharp cry escaping your lips. “Jake! Fuck, Jake,” you gasp, the words tumbling out as the sensations crash over you in waves and your final guess is made. Your hands have enough of grasping the cushions beside you and fly to his hair, his floppy ears weaving through your fingers as you tug harshly,, knuckles white, as you try to steady yourself against the overwhelming pleasure surging through your veins.

Growling and whimpering at your harsh pulls, Jake’s body vibrates. His pretty dog ears are sensitive, they love to be nibbled, pulled, and played with. It’s something you and Sunghoon do often, loving the way his voice cracks and chest shakes with happiness.

“Good girl,” Sunghoon murmurs, his voice low and approving, the sound deepening the haze of pleasure clouding your mind. He knows it’s technically both of them that have worked you to the edge, but it’s Jake’s expert tongue that is the finisher. He watches Jake devour you with a smirk, clearly enjoying the sight of you completely at their mercy. His hand slides to Jake’s head, his fingers gently scratching behind Jake’s ears, massaging the sensitive spot just right as you let go of your grip slightly. “You win this round, baby. Cum over Jake’s mouth whenever you want.”.

Jake lets out a soft, deep sound, almost like a purr, and the vibration travels through his tongue, sending shivers through your already trembling body. The added sensation is too much, your whole body responding to the combined stimulation. You can feel the low rumble of Jake’s contentment reverberating through you, the sound mixing with the intense pleasure he’s drawing from your clit.

Withdrawing his fingers from you to allow Jake easier access, Sunghoon licks them clean. His eyes roll to the back of his head as he tastes you, palming himself through his jeans. He knows Jake likes to lap you to completion, so he will always give him that privilege, but man does he wish he would be selfish for once and have you wash over his tongue

Your moans become louder, breathless, your body strung so tightly on the edge that it feels like you’re going to snap at any moment. Jake’s tongue flicks over your clit faster, his lips sucking gently but firmly, keeping you right at the edge. Sunghoon’s fingers in his hair encourage him, the gentle pats turning into slow, methodical scratches, making Jake purr even louder.

The combination of Jake’s relentless mouth and the teasing vibrations drives you wild. Your body quivers, and you gasp as your orgasm starts to build, your hips bucking towards Jake’s mouth, desperate for more. Every flick of his tongue, every hum from his purr sends you spiraling further into pleasure, and you know you’re right on the brink, just a breath away from falling over completely.

“Come on, baby. Let go,” Sunghoon coaxes softly, his tone dark and dripping with satisfaction, knowing full well how close you are.

That’s all it takes. Your body arches, your back lifting off the couch as you finally tumble over the edge. A broken cry rips from your throat as your orgasm crashes over you, waves of pleasure consuming you completely. Your vision blurs and your entire body quakes as the ecstasy pulses through your veins, overwhelming and all-encompassing.

The puppy's tongue slows but doesn’t stop, drawing out every last tremor from your body until you’re left a trembling mess beneath them. You slump back against the couch, chest heaving, your entire body alight with the lingering aftershocks of your release.

Pulling away slowly, Jake’s mouth leaves your sensitive core, but not without placing a few soft, lingering kisses on the inside of your thighs, trailing up toward your hip. His lips are gentle now, in contrast to the intensity of moments before, and each kiss is a tender reminder of the care and attention he’s always given you. Your body hums with the remnants of pleasure, still tingling in the aftermath of your climax.

His breath tickles your skin as he murmurs against your thigh, “The game isn’t over, baby.”

Before you can catch your breath or even respond, Sunghoon’s strong arms slip beneath you. In one smooth motion, he lifts you up, and your legs dangle in the air as he carries you, positioning you over the back of the couch. Your palms rest against the soft cushions, bracing yourself as your body arches naturally, wanting more of them. The fabric presses against your chest, heightening your awareness of every inch of your body. The blindfold remains secure much to your dismay, but you don’t grumble.

Guessing this should be easy, each of their cocks imprinted into your brain, both beautiful but so unique. Jake, who is thick and long, stands straight and always hits that sweet spot deep inside you. Whereas, Sunghoon is skinnier but curved to the right, always angling himself perfectly to drag along your sensitive walls.

Behind you, Jake and Sunghoon exchange a glance, their mischievous smiles fading slightly as the unspoken competition between them resumes. Unbeknownst to you, they square up for a quick, playful round of rock-paper-scissors. A soft sound of irritation escapes Sunghoon’s throat as Jake wins, his tongue sticking out in mock victory as he flashes a grin Sunghoon’s way.

Sunghoon’s furry ears pin back in annoyance, his eyes narrowing, but there’s no real anger in his expression - just begrudging respect for the outcome of their game. “Damn it,” he mutters under his breath so you can’t hear, stepping back to allow Jake to take his place behind you, even though you can practically feel his impatience radiating off him.

Jake wastes no time. His shirt is off in an instant, the muscles of his chest and arms flexing as he throws the fabric aside. The sight of his bare skin, glowing with a light sheen of sweat, makes Sunghoon swallow thickly. His trousers follow, hitting the floor with a soft thud, and you can sense the eagerness in the moves, positioning himself behind you.

Sunghoon, feeling the heat swirl in his blood follows suit, peeling off his clothes just as quickly, though, with an air of frustration, his eyes never leaving the curve of your body bent over the couch. He inches forward, watching intently as Jake prepares to claim you, waiting for his own turn with palpable hunger.

Jake runs his hands over your hips, sliding up your waist as he leans in, pressing a kiss to the small of your back. His warmth engulfs you, and you can feel the hard length of him pressing against you. The anticipation in the air thickens, and your body tingles in response, ready for whatever comes next.

Sliding his boxers down just enough, the golden hybrid’s cock springs free, his hand gripping around it and pumping in glee. He can’t wait to be inside of you. Although you might guess who it is right away, he is going to try and make it difficult, already planning to switch up his rhythm to trick you somehow. 

You feel the tip of a cock press against your aching hole, already desperately squeezing around nothing as you wait in anticipation. You hate waiting, you’ve never been a very patient person, particularly in situations like these, so the teasing from the hybrid behind you is making you mewl out in both frustration and want. It’s not like you can even see anything in front of you to help distract you, the blindfold doing it’s just a little too well.

Creeping up behind Jake, Sunghoon’s fingers dip into the boy’s boxers and pull them down, his body dipping down with them until his face is at Jake’s soft butt. Sunghoon wouldn’t call himself an ass man, he would take your tits over anything else, but something about his boyfriend’s ass just speaks to him, making him want to mark it and bite it. But before he can get too carried away, he has to remember that this is your birthday, and all of his attention should be on you.

That doesn’t mean he can’t have a little fun while you’re preoccupied.

With a smirk on his lips, he places gentle kisses on Jake’s right cheek, then the left, letting his mouth trail up Jake’s back and shoulders, enjoying the warmth of his boyfriend’s skin against his own. Jake turns his head slightly, confusion evident on his face as he tries to catch a glimpse of what Sunghoon is up to, but Sunghoon grips Jake’s hips firmly, preventing any further investigation.

“What are you doing?” Jake whispers, making sure you can’t sneakily figure out that it is in fact his cock two seconds away from pushing inside of you.

Shrugging, Sunghoon pecks the other puppy’s lips. “I’m having some fun…and I’m gonna help you out,” he whispers, the words flowing like silk, so soft that Jake might have missed them entirely if not for his canine senses catching every nuance. Yet, it leaves Jake puzzled, his expression a mixture of confusion and curiosity.

Tilting his head slightly, Jake silently asks for clarity, but Sunghoon nudges him forward with a few gentle fingers at the back of his head. “Focus on her. Make our girl feel extra good,” he instructs, a playful yet commanding tone lacing his voice. It’s not like Jake needs to be told twice, he loves burying himself inside of you, thrusting his hips until you’re a moaning, whimpering mess beneath him.

While they conspire about god knows what, you begin to slide back, pushing onto the cock, trying to devour it out of pure greed and impatience. But as quickly as you feel the delicious bell stretch your hole, it’s quickly taken away from you. It’s fucking infuriating, so much so that you huff out loud and groan.

“This isn’t fair. This is my birthday, y’know,” you point out matter-of-factly, hoping to remind them that today should be dedicated to you, to your pleasure. Surely your 21st birthday should revolve around indulgence, not this agonising denial of the simple pleasures you know both hybrids would willingly give you any other day.

Suddenly, you feel a sharp smack against your cheek, the force of it making your back arch, sending a sting shooting up your spine. “It is your birthday, so you should be grateful Jakey here came up with such a great game for us to play,” Sunghoon growls, his tone deep yet lacking malice. Instead, there’s an undercurrent of authority, a reminder that if you push too far, this delightful game could end before you’ve even begun to enjoy it. “Say thank you to Jake for setting this up for you, be grateful.”

As the sting from his slap dissipates, you feel a gentle hand soothing the reddened mark, an unmistakable touch that could only belong to Jake. He never liked when you received harsh marks unless they were pretty little hickeys; the tenderness he displays is a testament to his nurturing nature, balancing out Sunghoon’s authoritative presence. It’s why the three of you work so well as a couple.

With a playful pout, you huff out, “Fine, fine. Thank you, Jake.” The words slip out, albeit begrudgingly. You are thankful to him, to both of them. No one gives you this sort of effort and love like the the two boys who stand behind you. Plus, they wouldn’t be doing all of this if they knew you were going to hate it. They know fine well that this will be a new game you’ll play a lot more of.

Sunghoon’s assertiveness is a thrill for you, a dance of power and surrender. He’s not entirely dominant, but he definitely holds authority over both you and Jake. You relish this side of him, especially in moments like this, even if you grumble. There’s an undeniable thrill in being commanded, the excitement of receiving praise for your compliance.

As you settle back into the moment, still completely oblivious to who’s cock you are desperatley trying to seek the comfort of, Sunghoon’s hands glide along Jake’s body, guiding him back toward you. The heat radiating off both hybrids sends shivers down your spine, heightening the anticipation of what’s to come. 

Licking his plump lips, Jake pumps his cock a few times, lining it up at your entrance. Although it’s your celebration, the pup suddenly feels like it’s his own birthday, the throb of his cock exhibiting his excitement to be nestled inside your walls. So, without much warning, he slides into you, filling you up so beautifully.

You can’t even try and decipher who it is just yet, the satisfaction of your craving finally being fulfilled is clouding your judgement and your body is only screaming blissful a chain of ‘yes, yes, fuck yes’ into your mind. Moaning loudly, you push back as far as you can, begging with your body for him to stay there for a moment.

Complying, Jake waits until you have adjusted, though with Sunghoon’s fingers scissoring you open earlier, it doesn’t take long for the stretch to turn to comfort and ease. Your cunt is Jake’s favourite thing in the whole world - its taste, the way it moulds perfectly around him, and certainly the way it squeezes his cock. Being a hybrid comes with advantages, and his senses are immensely heightened. While you need a blindfold to be more attuned to your smell or hearing, Jake lives like that constantly. He can hear every breathless gasp coming from your lips as he drags his member along your canal, the ridges of your walls making him feel even better than if he were just human.

Jake starts slow, thrusting in and out of you with agonising deliberateness. He’s trying to catch you off guard, and you can tell by how foreign the movements are to you. None of them have ever fucked you like this before, making it harder to play their guessing game. You have to get this right. If you don’t, then you’ll be denied your release, and considering how perfect your first one was, you don’t want to miss out on multiple moments of euphoria.

Behind Jake, Sunghoon grips his hips tightly, guiding him in and out of you with a fervour that makes Jake groan with pleasure. He feels the pressure building with each thrust, the warmth of your body enveloping him, drawing him deeper into bliss. Each thrust is met with delicious friction, and each drawback is met with Sunghoon’s bulge dry humping him. He can’t help but revel in the sensation. The heat radiating off your skin is intoxicating, and he relishes the feeling of your slickness coating him as he moves.

You’re both utterly consumed by the rhythm, Jake’s mind swimming in a haze of pleasure. Each thrust sends a wave of warmth through his body, and he’s acutely aware of how tightly you’re gripping him, how perfectly you fit around him. The delicious squeeze of your walls makes him ache for more, each movement sending shocks of ecstasy radiating through him. He bites down on his lip to stifle a moan, his brow furrowing in concentration as he fights to maintain control while also surrendering to the pleasure washing over him.

As you move beneath him, your breaths quicken, and every sound you make fuels the fire within him. Your body shifts, pushing back against him, and the way you arch your back sends a rush of adrenaline through his veins. You’re a vision of pure ecstasy, and the sight alone is enough to drive him wild. He finds himself instinctively matching your movements, thrusting deeper with each push, allowing the waves of pleasure to wash over him.

Noticing Jake fall back into his typical frenzied rhythm, Sunghoon bites down on his neck, causing him to whine out, his ears jumping at the sudden sharp pain. “Follow my lead, don’t get carried away. We want this night to last, don’t we?” The dark-haired boy whispers into Jake’s ear, kissing down his neck to soothe the mark. 

Nodding, Jake nuzzles Sunghoon’s cheek in apology, his breath hitching slightly as he feels his boyfriend’s warmth radiating against him. He understands the importance of pacing; you’ve already cum once, and if they want this night to continue, you’ll need time between each orgasm to keep up with their animalistic sex drive. Jake feels a surge of determination to make sure you feel good, his instincts kicking in as he returns to a more measured rhythm, albeit with the primal undertone of urgency that he can’t fully shake off.

Sunghoon’s hands guide Jake’s hips, the pressure of his grip firm yet gentle, reminding him of the control they’re both meant to maintain. As Jake follows Sunghoon’s lead once again, he can’t help but relish the feeling of you wrapped around him, your body clenching as he pulls back before pushing in again. Each thrust brings with it a new wave of pleasure that sends ripples through his body. You feel perfect, and that thought alone is enough to push him to the brink of his own release.

As Sunghoon’s fingers trace the line of Jake’s spine, the hybrid feels the tension within him coil tighter, the electric connection between the three of you simmering with intensity. 

“Go on, baby girl. Guess.”

Not now. You mentally whine as you feel the coil in your stomach build and build. You’re so close and yet you have no fucking clue who’s cock is taking you to the stars. Jake is fast, a little sloppy in the best way but harsh, and Sunghoon is skilled and forceful, but with a sense of gentleness in the way he pulls back.

None of this is happening right now. It’s like the perfect balance of both. 

The way they work in tandem creates a delicious confusion, each of them pushing you toward the edge, yet holding you back just enough to keep you guessing. As your body begins to respond instinctively, you let the sensations wash over you, focusing on the bliss they’re creating together.

You take a few moments, your mind racing as you contemplate your guess, but suddenly the rhythm shifts. What was once a barrage of piercing thrusts transforms into quick, deliberate movements, each one aiming for that perfect spot inside you. The change catches you off guard, sending sparks of pleasure racing up your spine. It feels different, the thrusts more measured and calculated, as if both hybrids are working together to keep you on that tightrope between ecstasy and overwhelming bliss.

Sunghoon smirks as he adjusts his position, shifting behind Jake, holding him impossibly close. The connection between them feels primal, a bond of instinctual dominance as he continues to hump Jake’s ass, matching his movements and melding their bodies together as he joins in on your fun. 

A high pitched whine comes from Jake as he loses rhythm slightly to focus on his own pleasure. Sunghoon is doing most of the work now, using his gyrating hips to guide Jake inside of you at a fast pace. All the while, his hands find their way to your nub, the teasing touch igniting a fire deep within you.

With each rub, the confusion only deepens; the sensations blend into one intoxicating cocktail of pleasure. The fingers work in a back-and-forth motion like Sunghoon does, rather than the circular movements from Jake, drawing sharp gasps from your lips as you struggle to piece together the puzzle of your pleasure. The connection between the thrusts and fingers becomes a symphony of sensation that sends you spiralling.

And you take a wild, semi-educated guess.

“Sunghoon! It’s Sunghoon. Fuck, please let me cum.” The words tumble from your mouth in a desperate plea, and the moment you clamp down around the cock filling you, everything suddenly pulls away from you. It’s as if the universe pauses for a brief moment, the pleasure you were chasing slipping just out of reach. 

The abruptness of it leaves you gasping, the emptiness you feel is aching like no other pain you have ever felt before. The confusion of who was taking you to the stars swirls in your mind. It feels unfair, like a cruel twist of fate on your birthday. The room grows quiet except for you and Jake’s panting. Shit. You got it wrong. But you were sure those were Sunghoon’s fingers…and he was right behind you. 

Wasn’t he?

Turning to face the other hybrid, Jake looks at him with pain and frustration. He was so close to filling you up, giving you the greatest gift of all and yet he was denied it all so suddenly. 

His reaction makes Sunghoon laugh, his hand coming up to pet Jake’s disappointed ears. “I’m sorry, pup, she got it wrong. You made the rules, remember.” 

“Fuck the rules,” Jake pouts, his hand pumping his cock in a desperate rhythm to relieve the ache building within him. “I need to cum.”

“And you will, Jakey. As soon as she gets the next guess right, we’ll all be cumming.” Sunghoon’s voice drips with promise as he pecks his lips gently, easing Jake’s frustration but heightening the tension in your body. The prospect of getting it wrong again sends shivers of anxiety coursing through you. If you miss this chance, you’ll be left not only with blue balls for both hybrids but also with a very frustrated, very needy pup on your hands.

Jake nods in agreement, even if the simmering frustration lingers in his expression. He gently lifts you from your position over the couch, your body tingling with anticipation. The blindfold still obscures your vision, but Jake’s zephyr-like hands are hard to mistake. You feel them guide you, their warmth radiating around your waist. You sit on the couch and await further instructions. God you want to see them so bad, to touch them and cum all over them. That is what you want to wish for on your birthday.

The moment you’re seated, Sunghoon finally discards his boxers, leaving all of you naked and exposed, each member aching with desire and needing release. The air is thick with the scent of lust and heat, and you can feel the tension rising. Both of them sit at either side of you, hands flying to roam over your body. The sensation of skin against skin sends waves of excitement through your body as you shift slightly, feeling the soft cushions of the couch beneath you.

“We’ll make this one so easy for you, baby,” Jake smiles into your neck, nuzzling his nose into you as he lifts the aura of your scent. You smell like a mixture of him, Sunghoon and sex, his favourite combination. 

Sunghoon presses his chest to your back, kissing the other side of your nape. You’re so beautiful and he has been so patient with this night, but he’s losing his control. Border Collie hybrids are very good at self-restraint, yet, all of that resolve crumbles as soon as you are involved. You have a spell over him, call it a soulmate blanket or whatever, but he just knows that he cannot get enough of you.

Jake, ever playful and eager, has grown impatient, his hybrid instincts taking over any sense of restraint. With a low growl, he scoops you into his lap, his thick cock already leaking with precum as it slides teasingly between your folds. His touch is filled with both affection and hunger, and his excitement is palpable in every movement. His retriever nature means he’s always been a little less controllable, but that’s what you love about him.

With the position you’re in, there’s no way you could mistake which one will be inside your pussy and the other taking your other entrance.

At least, that’s what you thought.

When Jake finally pushes into you, a loud, blissful moan escapes him, his chest vibrating with a purr of contentment. His big hands grasp your waist, guiding you up and down his length with a rhythm that has you arching back in pleasure. Your head falls against his shoulder, your breath coming out in soft, needy gasps.

“Jake, please…” you beg, though you’re not even sure what you’re pleading for. The ache between your thighs is insistent, a sweet agony that makes you feel like you might unravel at any moment. Your clit pulses in desperate need, still unsatisfied from the previous teasing.

Through your blindfold, you feel Jake’s gentle pout even though you can’t see it. “My good girl,” he whispers, his hips thrusting up powerfully, driving himself deep into you. The combination of his praises and his cock pressing perfectly inside you has you trembling in his lap, each movement sending shockwaves through your body.

He captures your lips in a tender kiss, slow at first, teasing you by pulling away when you silently beg for more. The softness of his lips against yours creates a stark contrast to the intense heat building between you both, and soon, you’re lost in the intimacy of the moment, despite the raw need in your body.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon has been watching with adoration, his pointed ears twitching as he observes the two of you. He loved to see the two of his partners connect like this, the scenes so sweet despite the crude nature of your actions. But his cock is hard, throbbing with a need that matches his longing gaze and he refuses to sit in the sidelines much longer. He shifts closer, the heat from his body making your skin prickle in anticipation. He’s been waiting patiently, but now, his own desire overtakes him.

He moves behind you, hands gentle but firm as he guides his cock into position, the tip pressing against you in a way that takes you by surprise, your ass feeling empty despite the expectancy.

“Sunghoon - what are you…” You gasp, your breath hitching as the sensation of his cock pressing alongside Jake’s makes your heart race. The stretching of your cunt is intense, something new and overwhelming, as you feel Sunghoon’s length slowly filling you.

Fuck, it feels good, painful, delicious, and sadistic all at once. And you couldn’t be happier.

Jake’s hands tighten on your waist, holding you steady. “Shh, baby, it’s okay,” he reassures you, though his voice shakes with his own pleasure. The sensation of Sunghoon’s shaft rubbing against his inside you is sending him spiralling into ecstasy. He never imagined sharing you like this would feel so incredible, the friction between their cocks heightening every sensation.

As Sunghoon begins to thrust slowly, Jake’s hips instinctively buck in response, the three of you moving together in perfect harmony. The moans that spill from your lips, mixed with theirs, echo around the room, a symphony of pleasure that fills the space.

Sunghoon leans closer, his breath hot against your neck as his hands join Jake’s on your hips. Without a second thought he tilts his head and captures Jake’s mouth in a heated kiss, their tongues meeting in a dance of lust and affection over your body. The warmth of their connection sends a shiver down your spine, the intimate moment only heightening the heat between the three of you.

Growling into his mouth, Jake brings your hand to his ear, a signal you know all too well. You know exactly what he wants, so you grip his ears and tug harshly, making him open his mouth as he whimpers out and allowing Sunghoon deeper access, his tongue roaming freely around the oldests mouth.

The feeling of both of them inside you, their cocks pressing together as they fill you completely, makes your head spin. The fullness is beyond anything you’ve ever experienced, every thrust making you gasp and cling to Jake’s broad shoulders for support.

Jake’s lips leave Sunghoon’s, panting heavily as he gasps for air. But not for too long, as they hover just above yours again, his breath ragged. He chuckles softly, his voice tinged with amusement and lust. “Take a guess, baby,” he whispers, his lips brushing yours teasingly, “guess who is fucking you and then you can let go.”

Despite the overwhelming sensations, a breathy laugh escapes you, the humour of the moment breaking through the intensity. You look at him, eyes gleaming with love and desire. 

“Both of you,” you manage to whisper, your voice shaky but full of affection. “It’s both of you.”

Jake grins, his lips capturing yours in a messy, needy kiss, while Sunghoon’s low growl of satisfaction rumbles in your ear, his thrusts becoming deeper, more deliberate as he savours the way your body reacts.

The sensation of them both inside you, their movements perfectly synchronised, sends you spiralling closer and closer to the edge. Jake’s pace falters beneath you as his release nears, his grip on your hips tightening, his cock throbbing inside you.

“God, you feel so good,” he groans, his voice hoarse with need. “Just let go, love. You can.”

And that’s all it takes. With his words still hanging in the air, your body finally gives in, the pleasure that’s been building within you crashing down like a tidal wave. You cry out, your walls clenching tight around them both as you’re consumed by your orgasm, every nerve alight with white-hot pleasure. Your body trembles uncontrollably, lost in the intensity of the release.

Jake moans your name, his hips jerking as he finds his own release, filling you with his warmth as he groans into your mouth. His cock pulses inside you, the tip of his cock swelling as he knots, the sensation driving you even deeper into the haze of your climax.

Behind you, Sunghoon’s movements grow erratic, his hips slamming into you as he chases his own end. With a low, guttural howl, he thrusts one last time, his length pressing deep before he lets go, filling you completely as his own release takes him over. 

Both of their knots are pressed against one another, your walls being pushed and hole stretched to its limit. The pups whine and growl as they lock into you, shooting their load so deep inside of you that you feel your stomach swell slightly. Jake’s eyes roll back as Sunghoon’s cock throbs next to his, creating a natural vibration that he’s relishing in.

For a long moment, the three of you remain connected, your bodies trembling in the aftermath, the heat between you radiating in waves. Your breath comes in shallow pants, your body still trembling as the afterglow settles in. Sunghoon and Jake nuzzle their faces into your neck, rubbing their scent over you, claiming you as theirs.

Jake’s arms wrap around you, holding you close as you come down from the high. Sunghoon, still behind you, presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, his own breathing ragged but calming.

And then, with a tender touch, Sunghoon reaches up to the blindfold that’s been covering your eyes. Slowly, carefully, he unties it, the material slipping away to reveal the warm, golden light of the room and the two men who’ve made this birthday one you’ll never forget.

As your vision clears, you blink up at them both, feeling the love and affection in their gazes as they look back at you. Sunghoon smiles softly, his hybrid ears twitching as he leans in to kiss your cheek. “Happy birthday,” he whispers, his voice filled with warmth.

Jake, still holding you in his lap, grins down at you. “Best birthday ever, right?” he teases, his nose brushing against yours.

You can’t help but laugh, your heart full of affection for them both. “Definitely a top 5.”

Jake’s playful grin falters for a moment as something seems to click in his mind. His golden retriever ears twitch with excitement, standing upright as his tail wags behind him. His heart races, and his eyes widen with sudden realisation.

“We have one more gift,” he announces, voice bubbling with enthusiasm. His arms still hold you close, careful not to pull his knot from you, his hips shifting ever so slightly as he reaches around you with some effort. From behind, he produces a small, velvet-lined blue box, and your heart skips a beat.

You blink in surprise, watching him with curious eyes as he offers it to you, his expression soft but brimming with joy. “Open it,” Jake urges gently, his voice filled with excitement, and you can’t help but smile at his eagerness.

With trembling fingers, you take the box and slowly open the delicate lid, revealing the contents inside. Nestled within are three beautiful silver rings, each adorned with three tiny engraved hearts. Each ring is identical, except for the smallest detail—a single heart on each one is coloured in black. The simplicity of the design is stunning, and your heart swells at the sight of them, the meaning behind the gift slowly dawning on you.

You glance up, eyes wide with emotion, shifting between Jake and Sunghoon. “What… What’s this?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper as the weight of the moment settles over you.

Jake’s smile softens as he nuzzles against your cheek. “Promise rings,” he murmurs. His voice is tender, carrying a depth of affection that makes your chest tighten. “One for each of us,” he explains, his hand gently brushing over yours, guiding your gaze back to the rings.

Sunghoon leans in closer, his fingers tracing the edge of the box, his hybrid ears flicking as he adds quietly, “A promise to always be together… no matter what.” His words are soft, but they carry a gravity that tugs at your heart, and his eyes shine with a sincerity that takes your breath away.

You look between them again, feeling the overwhelming love and warmth radiating from both of them, and tears prick at the corners of your eyes. The rings glisten in the soft light, a physical symbol of the bond you share. You can barely find the words, but the happiness on your face says everything.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you breathe, voice shaky with emotion. But before you can find the words, Jake leans in, his lips capturing yours in a tender, lingering kiss, silencing any further thoughts.

Sunghoon, not to be left out, moves in as well, his lips brushing against yours from the other side, creating a perfect moment of intimacy between the three of you. The kiss is gentle, filled with love, as Jake and Sunghoon share this tender moment with you, the connection between all of you undeniable. Their hands hold you firmly, grounding you in the affection and promise they offer.

As the kiss deepens, the warmth between you grows, the rings in your hand a reminder of the unbreakable bond that now ties the three of you together. You’re all intertwined, hearts aligned, and the future filled with the promise of love, laughter, and unwavering devotion.

It’s a birthday you’ll never forget, not just because of the pleasure shared, but because of the love that wraps around you now, a love that will only grow stronger from here.

_____

perm taglist: @immortalvee @sunpov @heeseungspookie @strawberrysavi @monstanctiny21

@diorsyun @heexzbae @yzzyhee @baekhyunstruly @zeeloveshee

@haechonly @berryblog @no-mannerism @jaehoonii

@notevenheretbh1 @shawnyle @addictedtohobi @jiminie-08

@emberuby @nctislifue @lilyuwon @skzenhalove

@heeshlove @idkdykilr @chocminteu @y4wnjunz @rikibun

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@yawnazzz @st1llm0nster @woorcve @heeseungsbm

@star-hoon @heelee-01 @wonnienyang @alternativelix

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Okay but what about reader giving Xavier a necklace with her initial on it…

Wednesday twin!Reader

I've done this scenario a few times for other characters/fandoms, but only the situation reversed (where reader is the one wearing the necklace)

—

After seeing him, you didn't want to look at anything else.

Enid was giving you and Wednesday a quick tour of the school after your arrival. She showed you the library, the dining area, where to go to class and, lastly, the quad — which was a pentagon, as your sister had flatly pointed out. Enid had not been amused by Wednesday's humor and chose to ignore her and continuing her tour, insisted on giving you a wikia on Nevermore's social seats.

As the blonde was expanding about the clics and Bianca Barclay, your eyes fell on the tall boy on the other side of the quad and they wouldn't leave him. The world around you turned into a white noise, a mere echo, as you gave your whole attention to the stranger. You were completely entranced by him. His hair was tied back as he effortlessly painted a raven on a school wall.

''—used to date our resident tortured artist, Xavier Thorpe,'' Enid explained, and, as if on cue, the boy — Xavier — looked over his shoulder, finally giving you a good picture of his face.

A sharp jawline sliding into a pointed chin, Cheshire cat green eyes and the beautiful and full pink lips. You felt like throwing up as the words crossed your mind, but he had the face of an angel.

He raised his hand over the painting, making you very confused. Until now, you didn't know Nevermore's outcasts had powers. The artwork followed his hand movement, the wings of the raven coming to life and sending your heart in a twirl, in complete awe at everything this boy was.

At that moment, you wondered if that's how your parents felt when they first saw each other. The tight feeling in the chest and the inability to look away. You wanted to cross the quad and compliment Xavier on his artwork and talent or simply introduce yourself — get any kind of interaction with him —, but another boy pulled you out of your bubble. This one had a whole den of snakes hidden underneath his beanie.

Before coming to Nevermore, you had never batted a lash at any boys, but for some reason Wednesday couldn't fathom or indulge, you had a special interest for Xavier.

''What do you find in him?'' she asked from her bed, reading her copy of Frankenstein. She had read it so many times that the spine was cracked and duck-taped.

A smile curled on your face, your mind drifting to Xavier.

Although he was very handsome, your attraction didn't stop there. It was more than his look. It was the way he carried himself, his posture and effortlessly elegant demeanor, the way he spoke about things he was passionate about, the shy dimpled smile he always reserved for you, the way he gave you his undivided attention when he's talking to someone, the subtle acts of romanticism like that one time he got you that specific shade of rose that's really hard to find and expensive just because it was your favorite.

''I'm afraid the list would exceed the level of disgust you can handle in one day, dear sister,'' you replied.

''Do test me. I might enjoy myself.''

You loved him in a way you couldn't explain. He made you see life in colors, painting a golden light over your natural darkness.

The hour was late as you wandered to the boys’ dormitory, ducking into alcoves and being as quiet as the dead on your way to Xavier’s dorm. He didn’t know you were coming, but Thing had seen him returning from his nightly run through Wednesday's window so you knew he was there.

You did your special knock and when the door opened, Xavier grabbed your shoulder and pulled you inside, quickly closing behind you. You couldn't be on the boys' floors. The rules were very strict concerning the dormitories and the consequences would be severe if caught.

‘’What are you doing here? I thought you were spending the night celebrating your birthday with Wednesday.’’ Xavier reached for your hand, pulling you close to him. His hair was released from its usual hair-tie and damp from the shower he must’ve had after his run.

‘’It appears she has blown me off,’’ you explained with a tinge of bitterness. ‘’Only Thing was in her dorm when I let myself in and refused to tell me where she had gone. My suspicions are, she is raising dark forces and does not want mom and dad to know of her hellish doings.’’

Xavier frowned. ‘’Hellish doings?’’

''Séances. We have an altar in our living room at home.’’

You spoke so casually of dark magic that Xavier didn’t wish to know what else you and your parents did in your free time. It might be a little too spooky and kooky for him.

‘’I have something for you.’’ You pulled out a black velvet pouch from your jacket pocket. ‘’Open it.’’

Xavier took the pouch with a veil of confusion on his face. ‘’You got me a gift on your birthday?’’

‘’Open it, mon amour,’’ you pressed, equally excited and terrified to see his reaction.

Delicately, Xavier untied the loose knot and pulled the pouch open. He reached inside and took out a silver necklace. It wasn’t delicate and dainty like a woman's. The chain was thicker and the pendant was in the shape of a wax stamp with your initial on it.

‘’I found the pendant in a shop in town. I was looking for a present for Wednesday and it caught my eye through one of the glass shelves among other trinkets.’’

He observed the jewelry closely, then smiled at it. ‘’Like Y/N?’’

‘’Not because I own you,’’ you felt the need to add, ‘’but because I’m the only one who really knows you.’’

Xavier’s smile deepened, soft dimples poking. The smile he kept just for you. He unclasped the back of the necklace and you grabbed it from him, putting it on for him. A smile bloomed on your lips, seeing the pendant resting over his shirt as a mark of your love.

—

Wednesday taglist: @sofiaadler @partyfly @hoodforcalum @thelilacmourning @ellessecretobsession @su-alteza-emia @achoo---uu @not-leaprvt @xaviersgf @peterparkerdilf @roadworkaheadisurehopeitdoes @dragon-chica @coldtacozinepanda @wrldofsage @eddiemunsonsluvrrr @capriaura @officialsaturn @babyfiva @maevaomizzolo @kelloggs-world @whosljt @ajpanda181 @belovedrey @emerycrt @elizabitchsshit @heaven-hiding @lilithlikestoread @est-liber @moonisu @dessxoxsworld @parker-nite @bellblake121890 @vesperazhier @kaldurahms-lover @beeebo234 @nephilimsss @mayuphoenix @sweetheartlizzie07 @watermelon-18 @snixx2088 @555stargirl555 @robinscardigan @chumchum19 @lilttblog @aphex2winn @heizenka @mystargirl-interlude @hwrtsiren @babygirljay20 @wildflowerlyss @strangersomeone @openfandoms @charlottelaffin @iheartmaddyperez @starless-starkov @ali-r3n  @poppet05  @ell0ra-br3kk3r  @rhaenyraswife  @teaganthemorningstar​ @aphex2winn  @moompie  @ifevilwhyhot

[angellayercake]

Distilled Liquor

Raphael x female tav

Warnings: body shots, nudity, teasing

You forget whose idea it was to celebrate your birthday here at Sharess's Caress of all places but once the drinks had started flowing, paying a visit to your favourite devil had seemed a grand idea. 

'He rented a room upstairs in the hopes that you would drop by,' Korilla had said when you had run into her and hadn't that little seed of information taken root in your mind. You had already been to see him, just about business of course, but finding yourself back here again you couldn't stop your mind wondering. Before you knew it you were outside his rented door. You stared into your own eyes as you hesitated, the plaque was polished to a mirror shine. There was enough alcohol flowing through you that you are struggling to focus your vision but without it you would not have been there. The warm mead and rich wine lending you the liquid courage needed to confront the disarmingly attractive devil you knew was waiting inside.

Your hand was poised to knock on the door but it swung open before you had the chance and he was there leaning against the door frame, perfectly posed to affect his indifferent amusement at your presence and yet you know it is an act. You would tease him but as you slowly blink at him in surprise you find yourself speechless. His thick doublet is gone leaving him in only his mostly undone undershirt and you can't stop your eyes from raking over his exposed chest. 

'I thought I heard a little mouse dithering at my door,' he said but you could hear the smug smirk in his voice even as your eyes were occupied elsewhere. 'And what has brought you here I wonder? I hope you are not here to attempt to renegotiate. I've already been much too generous with you I fear.' Your mind slowly catches up with the currently one-sided conversation and you manage to drag your eyes from where his golden brown body hair disappears underneath those few inches of buttoned shirt.

'It's my birthday,' you blurt out, regretting it immediately as he arches one of his perfect brows in surprise or mirth you can't quite tell. He regards you for a moment too long with his sultry half lidded gaze, his amber eyes burning like a hastily downed shot of whiskey. You shouldn't have come up here it was a terrible idea and you need to come up with something quickly. 

'We are drinking downstairs. Wine. If you wanted to join. For my birthday,' You want to bang your head against the door frame, but manage to refrain to save whatever face you might have left. He looks genuinely surprised for a moment, not quite quick enough to school his expression. But as quickly as you notice it passes returning to his usual smug indifference. 

'I would, of course, but I prefer liquor to wine I'm afraid,' he steps back from the doorway and as the alcohol had brought you high enough to even risk extending this offer it brings you falling rapidly down at his rejection. You take a deep breath as you try to school yourself, accept it gracefully and make your escape when he continues. 'And I prefer it served in a quivering belly button, distilled in fear,' he pauses, ensuring he has your full attention. 'and arousal.' You swallow thickly trying to wrestle your wayward feelings under control after the whiplash they had just received. Because this, well it sounds very much like a proposition. 

'Not really appropriate for a public tavern, even in an establishment such as this.' He continues, sauntering deeper into the room leaving you poised at the threshold, unsure of your welcome. The room feels vast as you wait impatiently for him to make his point.  

'However I happen to have a bottle of whiskey here just waiting to be drunk and if a willing vessel was to present themselves to me? I might find myself of a mind to indulge.' He gestures to the bottle on his desk, leaning back against it. He crosses his arms and watches you as his carefully chosen words sink in. With an aborted step you cross the threshold and you can almost see the fire ignite in his eyes, though his expression stays neutral. He steps aside as you approach, gesturing to the almost empty desk where you perch awkwardly waiting for him to make his move. With a click of his fingers your clothes are gone and you shiver slightly at your sudden nudity even as the firelight paints your skin with its glow. His gaze feels like a caress as he takes all of you in and despite your self consciousness you begin to almost preen under his attentions. He doesn't touch you though, not yet. Picking up the bottle he uncorks it slowly, his large hands easing the cork from the neck before coming closer and holding the bottle to your chest.

'Sit up for me slightly, yes that's it,' he directs as you settle back on to your elbows creating a perfect reservoir for the liquor to collect at the end of the journey down your torso leaving a sticky trail in its wake. His eyes lock with yours as he leans over you to enjoy his drink. Your muscles start to shake as you try to hold perfectly still and you can't hide the gasp when his mouth finally touches you. His lips seal over your navel sucking the amber liquid before chasing the errant drops that slide down your waist. His eyes slide closed as a moan of pleasure rumbles through his chest and you hope it was inspired more by the taste of your skin than the whiskey. 

He pours another shot this time holding your gaze as he chases the rivulets between the valley of your breasts and over your twitching stomach until he can lap at his prize. Your laboured breathing had spilled more drops than the first pour which he carefully collects, dispensing with the pretence of licking up the liquid and instead trailing wet open mouthed kisses across your skin. You feel almost feverish as you watch him move closer and closer to where you truly crave his touch but he stops short leaving you gasping in frustration from your anticipated pleasure. Though you shouldn't be surprised he wants to drag this out as long as possible. 

He had spoken of wanting to hear you beg and while you had managed to secure his help without stooping to such measures you have no doubt that he would have you begging for something before the night was over. Another moan slips out of him as he sucks the last drops from your belly button before standing. His long fingers trail the edge of the desk until he is directly behind you, smoothing up your arms until they rest gently on your shoulders. 

'When you have seen a thousand, birthdays really mean very little.' His voice makes you squirm as you feel his breath ghosting against your ear. 'But you mortals do love your trifles.' Turning your head you find yourself nose to nose with him, close enough to taste his whiskey warmed breath. The tension feels crushing as you wait for him to close the distance between you. You let your eyes drop closed, unable to look at him as you wait.

'Many happy returns little mouse,' he whispers against your lips but without coming any closer he snaps his fingers and you are clothed once more. You blink in confusion as your body begins to adjust to the sudden shift in tension and then he is seated by the fire once more reviewing scrolls like you had never knocked on his door.

'Your friends will be missing you. Best not keep them waiting.' It's a clear dismissal and leaves your head spinning. Arousal swirls in your stomach alongside the drink as you dizzily stumble to the door. Pausing as you reach the handle you turn back to look at him and catch him watching you. 

'You know where to find me, little mouse.' He speaks low, his deep voice barely carrying across the room. 'Whether you wanted to share another drink,' he pauses, not allowing you to escape the suspense even now. 'Or something a little more, titillating.' As you catch his meaning you can't control the shiver of anticopation that runs through you. He was playing a game with you but he was helping you decide your next move and you weren't going to waste it. With a brief nod of acknowledgement you slip out of the door, closing it softly behind you. Next time.

[nwjws]

10 months (TEASER) - SJY

; SYNOPSIS - when you first meet your best friend’s brother, your first thought is, “holy shit, he’s gorgeous.” your second thought is, “holy shit, he’s a baby.” younger guys aren't exactly your thing, but jake insists that your age gap of 10 months really isn’t that big. 

; PAIRING - jake x fem!reader

; TAGS - one-shot, fluff, angst, younger!jake, older!reader, not by much though, high school au, inspired by their song, best friend’s brother trope ; WARNINGS - cursing, umm nothing else (for the teaser at least)

; WC - 1k (teaser) full fic est. idk probably more than 5k

; RELEASE - hopefully november 15 (on his birthday!) but may have to post pone a little bc i've got a terrible cough

holy shit, he's gorgeous.

jake sim, your best friend's brother, might just be one of the most attractive men you've ever seen in your almost-nineteen years of life. his flawless skin combined with his wild hair gave him that carefree teenage look; the poster boy of a cliché summer fling, coming-of-age movie.

jaena had asked you to join her family at the amusement park, to celebrate jake's birthday. and while you'd known that she had a brother, you'd never actually met him - until now. you suddenly found yourself wishing she had told you to prepare to be blown away by his looks.

you smile at him, giving him a half-hug. "happy birthday!"

jake, snapped out of whatever trance he'd been caught in ever since he first laid his eyes upon you, patting your back. "um, thank you."

your best friend catches him in a headlock, giving him a noogie. "aww, you're eighteen now! no more lying about being an adult online," she teases him.

your heart stops, ears catching on one word in particular. "wait, he just turned eighteen?"

"yeah, he's my younger brother," jaena says.

that has you sitting back against the backrest of your seat, blowing out air as you digested the new information. you glance back at jake, who's eyes are pinned curiously on you.

holy shit, he's a baby.

jaena snorts. jake's eyebrows raise up behind his bangs. did you say that out loud?

"i'm not a baby!" he protests.

"yeah, you are," jaena shoves him lightly.

"woah, my whole perception of you has just changed," you tell him.

jake's jaw drops impossibly further as jaena barks out more laughter.

"what?! what was your first perception of me, then?"

you shake your head, amusement pulling at your features. "doesn't matter now."

as expected, your day at the park was well spent. jaena and jake's parents had gone off somewhere and left you three (and heeseung, who was invited by jake) alone. you guys had ridden the rollercoaster twice, gone on some spinning ride, and a game of laser tag - which, by the way, jake and heeseung had severely lost ('jake! stop staring at y/n!' 'i wasn't!' 'then how did you miss your sister pointing her gun at you when she was right in front of you?!').

when the four of you lined up for bumper cars, jake walked over to your side.

"hey, you wanna share a car with me?"

"me? with you?" you asked in confusion, tilting your head to the side. "why?"

"stealing my best friend from me, jake?" jaena asked.

"precisely," he smiles at her, and takes your hand as you guys reach the front of the line. he pulls you into the passenger seat of a car.

buckling the seatbelt, you jokingly ask jake, "do you need me to hold your hand, you child?"

jake frowns, before his face swiftly contorts into a smirk. "if you feel like you need to hold onto me for support, then sure!"

you roll your eyes at his playfulness. if he'd been older than you, you would have definitely blushed at his reply. instead, he came across to you like a little boy trying to impress an adult. how cute.

it's a fun round, with you and jake bumping into jaena and heeseung's car several times, getting them caught against the edge. when a random pair of strangers you guys didn't know bumped your car, the four of you teamed up and went after the poor kids. you all left the bumper cars ride laughing to the point your stomachs hurt.

after that, jaena dragged you and two boys to the stall games. you and jaena had fun playing one of those shooting games, whilst the other two did something else.

when you met up again, jake handed you three big plushies, a smile as big as them on his face.

"for you!"

jaena scrunched her nose at her brother. "ewww jake are you trying to court my best friend or something?"

"i'm not courting her! what is this, the 18th century?" he maturely poked his tongue out at his sister. "i won these for y/n, you know. do you like them?"

you took one and hugged it. "aw, thanks jakey," you cooed at him, pinching his cheek. "but i think these would find a better place on your bed. you can hug them to sleep."

jake huffed out in annoyance. "why do you keep treating me like a child?"

"because you are a child."

"i'm literally eighteen? i'm a full-grown adult!"

"sorry to break it to you, but eighteen is barely an adult," jaena snorted at him, taking the plushie from your arms.

"how old are you then?" jake asked you, his head tilting to the side. you had to stop yourself from letting out another 'aww'. he looked like a cute puppy asking for attention.

"i'm almost nineteen."

"so you're also eighteen? we're the exact same age."

"no we're not! i'm ten months older," you protested.

"but we're still both eighteen right now! and for the next two months! you're acting like you're my grandma or something..." he muttered.

"well, our age gap was big enough that you were placed in the lower grade. so i do feel like your grandma."

"ten months isn't even that big!" he rolled his eyes.

"why does it even matter?" heeseung shrugs, slipping his hands into his pockets as you guys walk towards the rendezvous point you'd be meeting jake's parents at before going back home.

"because she's treating me like a baby!"

"keep whining like that and i'll start to think that you really are," you tease him, jaena laughing at your bickering.

you purse your lips, suppressing a smile as you watch the cute boy leave his sister's side and move over to yours. a whiff of his cologne attacks your nose, but you don't fight it. it's oddly attractive, until you remind yourself of who it belongs to.

no, no, no way. you gulp down your thoughts and feelings, trying to keep a light-hearted expression on your face. 'keep calm and carry on', or whatever it was that old meme said.

you couldn't let your conflicted feelings show. so you pushed away any and all thoughts that you might be falling for your best friend's brother.

; AUTHOR'S CORNER! HII this is scheduled but anyway i hope i can complete this fic within the next 5 days (pray for me) but if not please excuse me my immune system isn't fighting whatever pathogen i have fast enough

; TAGLIST (open!) perm . @lovelovelovebts @miyseung @babyy-bambii @haechansbbg @gweoriz networks . @kflixnet @k-films @/k-labels . send an ask or comment here to be added!

[cinnamontoastcrunch-15]

Celebrations and Confessions

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SIRIUS BLACK

Remus has been looking forward to Sirius' eighteenth since the marauders first started planning for it. Seventh year has made the war feel all too real, and having a day to celebrate someone who means so much to him, to all of them, is more than welcome.

It's the biggest celebration the marauders have ever thrown. Sirius is practically worshipped all day, and the amount of decorations and alcohol the other marauders have shoved under their beds for the evening is obscene.

The party is absolutely magnificent. Remus mostly stays on the sidelines. Watching Sirius have fun is better than being in the throws of the party itself. The smile on Sirius' face is absolutely radiant. Honestly, he's fucking glowing.

By the time it hits 2am, Remus knows the party isn't dying down anytime soon. He's had a bloody brilliant time, but it's slightly too close to the next full moon for him to be able to pull an all nighter like the rest of his insane lot. He decides to slip away quietly. Sirius would be all too willing to abandon the party to come with him, but Remus doesn't want to cut his fun in half. Not when he needs it more than anybody, after Regulus' strange transformation from a quiet, angry kid to head of the Deatheaters-in-Training, as the Gryffindors like to refer to them.

Sirius needs a night of forgetting.

That decided, Remus sneaks out of the common room, up the stairs, and into the dorm unnoticed. At least, he thinks it went unnoticed. That is, until the door creaks open as Remus sits on his bed, legs crossed. He looks up at the door, only to find Sirius walking in with a small smile.

"Hey. You turning in for the night?" He asks.

"Yeah," Remus nods, rooting around for his book. "How come you're not out there having fun?"

"Oh, I've had plenty fun," Sirius waves him off like it's nothing. "Also, I was kind of hoping I could talk to you."

"Of course you can," Remus says, trying to bite back any tension building. At this point, he and Sirius have had every negative conversation under the sun, so he knows that it's probably not anything bad. Still, it's always going to be a nerve-wracking thing to hear. Sirius settles opposite Remus on his bed.

"So, er..." He starts fidgeting with his hands, looking down as he contemplates his words. "Seventh year has been... eye opening. What with the war, and the fact that everything's going to get really shit really quickly. One thing about my birthday this year, turning eighteen, it got me thinking. Since life after school is going to be bloody terrifying, it's probably worth doing some things that scare the shit out of me now." Remus is pretty taken aback by this. Sirius has been doing terrifying shit his entire life, with his insane fucking family. This doesn't quite feel like something Remus can interrupt, so he keeps his mouth shut. "You don't have to say anything, and I- I don't want to make anything awkward. This is more about... doing something scary and getting it off my chest. Christ, I'm really waffling, aren't I?" Remus chuckles at that.

"Whatever you want to get off your chest, Padfoot, you can say it. I won't be upset."

"I don't know, you might be."

"It's pretty much impossible to be mad at you, Sirius." They'd been through the worst, this couldn't be anywhere near as bad as that. Sirius nods, taking a deep breath and meeting Remus' eyes.

"I'm in love with you."

Oh.

Oh.

Remus, for once, is rendered speechless. His eyes widen, as poor Sirius starts to elaborate. He always does this when he's stressed, Remus knows that. He wants to say something, but he can't get his brain to do anything other than repeat he loves me he loves me he loves me he-

"I have for a while, now. I just- I think you're incredible. I've always been... I don't know, I just worried that it was going to ruin our friendship. Especially after fifth year, and rebuilding everything. The thing is, I'm getting a lot worse at hiding it, and I figured it would be best to just get it off my chest. I know you probably don't feel the same way, and that's fine. I just... wanted you to know, I guess."

He's not going to stop anytime soon, is he?

Remus really needs to do something. Words aren't going to come to him anytime soon, and there's only one other solution, really.

"I really hope this doesn't wreck everything, though, because you mean the world to me-" He's cut off when Remus finally manages to do something. Namely, leaning in and connecting their lips.

He hears Sirius gasp, sending Remus' stomach back flipping. Maybe it's the firewhisky, maybe the adrenaline, but in Remus' brief moment of boldness, he lets his hand slide into Sirius' hair. He's rewarded with Sirius deepening the kiss. It's overwhelming, all-consuming, incredible.

After what could be seconds, could be hours, but isn't long enough, they break away, eyes meeting.

"Yep. this is officially my favourite birthday," Sirius says, a grin spreading across his face.

[radiant-reid]

ok ok "how old are you? 29." "im 30." but spencer x reader. maybe they just started dating or have been together for a while and reader never mentions her birthday (either it didnt come up or she doesnt like her birthday bc of some personal reason or didn't want him to feel like he HAD to do something or get something for her yk), and so spencer does the math and hes like 'wait.... if we've been together for over a year now...... it had to have been her birthday at some point' and he makes it up to her 🥹

"Hey, I've been thinking about something," Spencer says as he sits down next to you on the couch, picking up your legs and putting them over your waist.

"Is this the breakup speech?" You joke, putting your book down so he has your full attention.

He doesn't find it as funny as you do. "You know we've been together for more than a year?"

You nod, unsure of where he's going. "Of course." How could you not remember the perfect celebration you'd had less than a month ago?

"But you haven't had a birthday." He tells you. It must have been a realization he's just had because he still looks shocked by it.

"Technically, I have." You admit, and he looks so hurt by it that you quickly explain yourself. "But it was two months into us dating. I thought it was weird to be like hey, you're now obligated to spend today with me and get me a present."

"I would have." He assures you like you don't know. "I would have done anything you wanted, and I still will."

You nod, squeezing his hand. "That's why I'm the luckiest person in the world." He still doesn't look convinced, and he's beating himself up about it. "It's okay, Spence. I really don't mind."

"We're going out." He announces. "And having a you day. Anything you want."

"We really don't need to, it's my birthday in a couple of weeks anyway." You remind him.

Spencer shakes his head, pushing your feet on the ground, standing up, and pulling you off the couch. "Nope, I'm already more than 10 months late. We're doing it today, and we'll do it next month too."

He's not going to take no for an answer, so you agree. "Okay. Starbucks first."

[nutklcker]

I'm thinking about Curly and the fact the fandom is kinda slowly turning on him and starting to,,, blame him? More than Jimmy? And I've just been thinking about that

Like the takeaway from the game that Curly did not do the right thing and was not good at taking care of the crew is DEFINITELY an important, if not the most important, takeaway. Being constantly aware of toxic masculinity causing the bystander effect in others who feel like they have to cover for the toxic ppl is VERY IMPORTANT and I don't want to confuse people into going "Curly did nothing wrong!" "He's just a victim too it's not his fault!" "He didn't need to be responsible for Jimmy's actions!" Cuz that's just dangerous

But I do wanna dive into the fact that I think his actions (lackthereof) aren't just due to toxic masculinity and that feeling many cis men have where they have to cover for other toxic men and try to downplay all negative situations. Maybe it's just that I relate too much to Curly but it really seems to me that, after Anya, he's the most abused by Jimmy.

Like, I rewatched the Curly's Birthday Party scene where Jimmy not only berates him BRUTALLY but does so IN FRONT OF EVERYONE ELSE (/nm) AND Curly doesn't stand up for himself after the first few attempts, which will come back later. Jimmy verbally abuses him so comfortably (seen via 1.him doing it in front of everyone else 2.the fact he got Curly to shut up really fast and 3.the fact nobody stepped in to help Curly/stop Jimmy (which in Anya's case is so fair she was like having a panic attack but I was really expecting Swansea to say something or Daisuke to try and defuse)) really makes it seem like that's a common occurrence. The fact that the crew is used to it just feels like not only has he done that before but he does it frequently enough that even Daisuke, the last minute new hire, is used to it

Like when I first saw that scene my first thought was oh shit Jimmy really does abuse EVERYONE indiscriminately. But it kinda seems like the fandom forgot how quick and comfortable he was verbally abusing Curly On His Birthday Celebration, In Front Of Everyone.

And then, what I said earlier about Curly trying to fight back a little at first before giving up and just taking the beratement 100% applies to the scene where Jimmy beats Curly after giving him his pills. The same thing happens there, Curly screams out at first but eventually stops and just whimpers/cries while Jimmy beats him until he's done, at which point Curly starts full-on crying.

And again, this doesn't absolve him of the fact he didn't help Anya. Not one fucking bit. Like, as much as it's played for irony in game it was, to a pretty big extent, his responsibility as captain to make sure that his crew could coexist. And he SHOULD have done more to stop Jimmy. I'm not saying he's innocent, I'm saying that the assumption that he was a bystander to Jimmy's actions simply due to toxic masculinity influencing men to cover for one another is a little inaccurate. It's definitely the more important takeaway because being conscious of the dangers around you is important. It's just that seeing the specific ways he was abused by Jimmy and how he reacted to it makes me feel like it was less of a toxic masculinity thing and more of a Fawn response thing, because he DEFINITELY was a victim of Jimmy's abuse too. And I feel like that's a little important, both to show how men can abuse and manipulate one another and to show how abuse in general can make more than the abuser a danger to others (in the sense of people who are abused are less likely to speak out when they see other abuse, because they're used to it (speaking from experience, not being an asshole)). But I really don't want this leading people to baby Curly and excuse him from not sticking up for Anya more, cuz it's not an excuse, it's an explanation, a further development. He is still at fault for not doing more, but I this the reason he didn't do more isn't a toxic masculinity thing but an abuse victim thing

(Also it's interesting to see how Jimmy doesn't fuck with Swansea very much. I assume it's because he knows he can't topple Swansea, yet he's already toppled Curly and Anya so they're the easiest victims of his abuses. He knows Swansea would fight back, but he already has Curly wrapped around his little finger and Anya severely traumatized so he just focuses on them instead. Also this is in reference to the fact he doesn't try to go around Swansea and get into the Util/Cryopod room until he thinks Anya's hurt Curly. It's like he's afraid of Swansea, which he should be <3)

[lunexrin]

𝑩𝑳𝑼𝑬 𝑳𝑶𝑪𝑲 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵𝑺.

(𝐹𝐸𝑀! 𝑅𝐸𝐴𝐷𝐸𝑅)

𝑴𝑰𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑬𝑳 𝑲𝑨𝑰𝑺𝑬𝑹 as your partner.

disclaimer: this was a lot harder than it looks (to write about this egoistic monster lol.) i haven't read the manga at all, but based on what i've seen, i think this is how he'll be as a s/o. sorry if this isn't accurate!

a little suggestive towards the end. (i will put a mdni divider, and that's where the suggestive part starts. you can stop reading if you feel uncomfortable!)

There were only two of how he could be; either leave you in a crying mess every time you caught him in another's bed or he would just be downright worship you. But in this case, it was the latter, fortunately.

Michael rolls around the bed, his hands desperately trying to find his beloved's perfect waist. He reaches it, and pulls himself closer to her. "Mein liebling.." he whines, burying his face into her stomach. "I know that you are mad but.. you won't leave, won't you? "

Michael kissed you, a rough, possessive kiss. Pulling you close, burying your face in his chest. His arms wrapped around your figure tightly and squeezed you further into his being, as to further emphasize his point. "This pretty thing you're hitting on, she's my girl. Right, liebling? " He shifts his gaze towards yours, and grins when you prove his point. Looking back at the guy who was hitting on you, he glared, but that grin never left his face. "Screw off," he said, like the proudest man in the world.

"My goddess.." he whispers, sliding his lips from your wrist and to the very end of your fingers as he got down on one knee. "You're so beautiful.." he whispers again, his rough hands gently caressing your sides— your waist, all the way down to your hips. He loves the fact how gorgeous you look in the black dress he bought for you, to wear at a special event tonight; a celebration party of his team after winning a big match. He couldn't wait to flaunt you off to his teammates. "Here, let me put it on for you." He grabbed the pair of high heels you wanted to wear for the night, lifting up your foot and gently slid them on. He even did the complicated straps delicately, with full care. That just shows how much he loves you, and how much he worships you.

Spoils you rotten. He bought a luxurious car for you on your birthday, a year after you both got together. He took you shopping at the end of the month on the weekends when he is on his day off. He made sure that even if he was not there with you, money wouldn't be a problem if you wanted to spend it on your wants and needs— by giving you his black cards.

He would go nuts if your presence is blinded from his gaze, even for just a minute. He would anxiously search for you with his eyes in the middle of the game— he got it together for sure, but it won't last long. Of course that he won't let this be the reason he slacks off in the middle of the game and makes it the reason he lost the match, but at the same time he couldn't bear the idea of losing you. Really, his teammates had to restrain him from sprinting across the field to the bleachers, to find you row by row. Turns out you paid a quick visit to the toilets, and he could finally relax again, grinning and throwing a wink as he sees you waving at him.

Randomly grope you out of nowhere. Be it in public or in private. He just can't bear to keep his hands off of you— even for just about 5 minutes while waiting in line trying to get some fucking ice cream. He loves to hear you shriek, and would lean into your ear, whispering cruel things that shouldn't have been said in the moment. "Shush.. don't wanna be a bad example for the kids 'round here right, sugar?" But of course, he wouldn't let anyone see the action. He'd feel as if he betrayed himself and you by giving anyone else's eyes the pleasure of the show displayed— your round, fit bottom.

Aftercare. He would pull you in close, caressing the back of your head while cradling you against his chest like a baby. He knows that he was rough with you, not to mention the whole episode of him degrading the shit out of you earlier. But he wasn't going to let you suffer and in pain even after the passionate night— or day you just shared. He'd make sure to whisper sweet things in your ear, and maybe some snarky, dirty remarks that would make you pinch his arm, and he'll complain of how it hurts. "I had to say, you know how I hated it when you got hurt but.. earlier was a different case— ow!" He claimed, pouting from the pinch you gave him. But then he grins again, chuckling. He placed a gentle kiss on your lips, the grin turned into a small, genuine smile. "Okay, okay.. I love you, l'right? Now, get some sleep, sleeping beauty. The pain will go away soon, hopefully." He laughs when you pinch his arm again, and pulls you closer, further into his warm embrace.

© 2023 lunexrin, do not copy, translate, or repost on any other websites without proper credits.

[calibabii21]

| celebrating you | suh.j

pairing: birthday girl!reader x boyfriend!johnny

genre: angst, fluff

warning(s): none

a/n: dedicated to the beautiful @sharonxdevi on her day~~ may you feel loved and cared for, but most importantly, may you love on yourself a little extra today not proofread

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

you turn to face your boyfriend as he walks through the door, the hood of his favorite hoodie covering your eyes. he looks at you with amused but concerned eyes, "babe? why are you sitting dressed like that?"

he steps onto the plush living room rug and pulls the hood off of your head. "wha– have you been crying??" you shake your head 'no' but your lip starts to quiver and tears flood your eyes again.

"no no– what's wrong sweetheart?" he sits next to you, instantly caressing from the top of your head to the middle of your back. he nods, patiently waiting for your sniffles to subside. "I just..it's like this every year." he looks at you with an expression that invites you to continue opening up.

you sigh and begin making sweater paws, anxious to let him in on what goes through your mind. "every year, my birthday is the time I've always felt the most alone.." his eyes soften with each word you say, "I just always feel abandoned. like of all times. of all the days of the year. mine is forgotten."

he pulls you into his arms at the sound of your heartbroken tone and allows your remaining sobs to be released. once you pull back and rub your nose, his thumb dabs the last tear from your face, "sweetheart, I need you to listen to me."

you nod with big round eyes at the seriousness of his tone, "we, as humans- we naturally place the value of ourselves in how others celebrate us..but if we continue to place our self worth in the hands of those people- we won't feel very valued. so, we have do it for ourselves."

more tears run down your cheeks as his arms encase you, giving you the warmest, very much so needed hug. you rest in silence for a few beats before he whispers in your ear, "but I'm not those people."

he detaches himself from you as you confusedly wipes your eyes, "what?" you stand and watch him run to the front door and back, this time with his arms full of paper sacks.

"tada!!"

there's no hiding the lost expression you hold. he sets the bags onto the living room table and looks at you both proud and honored, "check me out."

you eye him suspiciously before looking into the closest bag and gasping, "you didn't!" he pops his imaginary collar and crosses his arms, "oh, but I did."

the excitement in you is no longer contained as you pull out the series of limited edition books you had pointed out to him in passing. "John, baby you- I can't believe you found them!"

"keep looking." he bites down on his thumb, now starting to get nervous with all the tears you're producing. you go through the bags seeing all the things you love.

from the minuscule "I can't believe you spent this much on red bull, hot cheetos and lime." to the heartfelt sentiments, "you went to the Italian place we first met at?" to the unexpected "John..I– these are beautiful."

in front of you, was a jewelry box full of a collection of rings and bands, all including different cuts of your birthstone. cue the waterworks.

he stands in front of you with a goofy grin, "and you thought the snacks were expensive."

you don't know why, but that statement cracks you up so much that a new wave of tears hits you. he grabs you by the waist, pulling you flush against him, and murmurs, "if you keep crying, I'll really give you something to cry about."

but that only makes you laugh harder, "you're so stupid." you go to shove him but he takes your hand instead, placing one of the uniquely cut gemstone rings onto your fourth finger.

"next time, I'll be on my knee." your heart, tummy, and fanny flutters at both his words and the look in his eyes. "yeah.." words fail to leave you, but he knows you well enough to already know where your brain went.

"you want to be on your knees don't you?" your innocent doe-eyed expression did nothing to fool him, he just lets out a short boisterous laugh and gives you a kiss encapsulating both of your emotions.

"Happy Birthday Sweetheart. I'm Celebrating You."

[normal-internet-user]

I accidentaly deleted an ask, so here it is,

HAPPY B-DAY @wuts-stuff 🎉🎉🍰

BAYVERSE BOYS ON READERS BIRTHDAY

Leo:

Wether you're dating or not,

You will not be spending your birthday alone.

Leo will plan an entire day full of fun activities for the two of you to do.

(He also wanted to make you a cake, but he's banned from the kitchen, so Mikey made one for you)

He'll make sure his brothers are on their best behavior, there will be no funny buisness on (Name)'s birthday, no sir.

If parties aren't really your thing, he's more than happy to spend the day in your apartment or even in his own room, as long as he gets to celebrate your birthday.

If you guys are dating, he plays diffrent oldies records for the two of you to slow dance you.

(Specifically, Blue Moon by Mel Tormè, golly I love that song)

As for your gift,

He makes you a beautiful traditional ink painting.

He had asked April to get him the supplies, and once she had, he'd been working on it everyday since.

The day ends in a sleepover, the two of you watching your favorite movie <3

Raph:

You?

Spending your birthday alone?

Absolutely not.

If he has to drag you out of your apartment to come spend your birthday in the Lair, he will.

I'm serious, he will.

If you hate celebrating your birthday for some reason or other,

He's happy just being around you.

As long as he gets to see you happy.

I keep seeing this headcanon that Raph makes jewlery out of old bottles and other glass junk,

And I completely agree.

He most definitly makes you a necklace with a bright red shard of glass in the center.

It's so pretty and you can't stop thanking him for it.

He'll probably be all humble on the outside, ya know? "Nah, don't mention it, shorty."

But on the inside, your constant thanks and praise of the present is definitly stroking his ego.

Mikey:

Omg it's your birthday, no way!

He calls you at midnight to tell you happy birthday because he wanted to be the first one to say it.

He will stay on the phone with you his whole way to your apartment.

Once he's inside he'll pick you up with a big 'ol smile and start spining around your apartment singing happy birthday.

You have to tell him to quiet down before he wakes up the entire building.

If you don't mind parties, prepare yourself my friend.

Mikey is literally the party dude, this is going to be the best birthday bash of your life.

If parties aren't really your thing, he'll just hang with you at your aparment all day,

You two will do a little of everything,

Bake your cake,

Play some video games,

Watch some movies,

All that jazz.

His gift is a skateboard of your own that he styled the bottom of,

Like I've said in previous Mikey headcanons if you don't know how to skateboard, he's 100% teaching you.

And now you have your own board to learn on!

Donnie:

Donnie spends weeks before your birthday planning things out.

Everything needs to be absolutely perfect, nothing any less than will be acceptable.

He has two sepreate plan sheets,

One for if you'll be spending the day at the Lair,

And another if you'll want to spend the day in your apartment.

He's fine either way, just so long as he gets to make you feel special on your birthday.

Donnie makes a point of the two of you doing all your favorite things,

Wether it be baking, painting, or even napping,

Anything you enjoy doing is something you'll do on your birthday.

His gift to you is a sweater you had said you liked while the two of you were on a walk a while back.

He had April buy it for him and he gave it to you much to your excitment.

It makes him happy everytime he see's you wear it.

.........................................

There you go, I hope you have a very happy birthday @wuts-stuff 💕💕

[nightfang22]

Get Angry

As a special treat for my friend @p34ch-tr33 who always pulls out my best work! Enjoy!

TW:Angst,smut insinuation,alcohol,18+

A tear runs down my cheek as I blow out the last candle on the cake. 20 candles nearly completely melted, wax mixed with icing, I sat alone in the dark as I waited for him. He should've been here 5 hours ago. Kenny promised this year would be different. He promised. I scroll through my Snapchat just looking at people's stories and watching dog videos. I clicked on Stan's story expecting to see cute photos of Sparky or videos with Wendy. What I saw broke my heart. Stan's story was filled with nothing but videos of a party at Kenny's house. I could see Wendy and Bebe taking shots and Cartman and Heidi making out. Butters was hitting on some poor drunk girl in the corner and Kyle was playing video games. Craig and Tweek were watching Jimmy break dance on a cardboard box in the middle of the room. I choked back a hard sob stuck in my throat but ultimately I failed. Then I remembered what my father told me when I was little: Don't cry, get mad. And when you get mad, get even. I picked myself up and brushed myself off, tossing the ruined cake in the garbage before fixing my makeup. I grabbed my keys and sped off in my car to Kenny's house.

Ever since Kenny's dad got that oil rig job and is never home anymore, Kenny hasn't really been Kenny. We used to celebrate each other's birthdays together all the time when we were kids but he's missed the last couple of years. He always made it up to me in the end but this time he completely forgot and didn't invite me to his party! I'll show him. I pull into Kenny's driveway and get out of my car. I knock on the door but there's no answer. 'Maybe the music is too loud for them to hear anything else?' So I knock again but louder. Stan opens the door looking back over his shoulder laughing at something before turning his head to face me. His eyes widen in shock. "(Y/N), what are you doing here?" He has a glass in his hand that has a golden brown liquid in it. I relieve him of his glass and down it. 'Hm, Kenny's dad's Scotch from the fancy liquor cabinet.' "I just came to say hi to Kenny and to remind him of the date. You know, since he didn't invite me to his little shindig." I said through gritted teeth. Stan is just staring at me dumbfounded before saying, "What? Kenny told us you couldn't make it cause you were sick. Everyone was asking about you." I smile softly and hug him. That makes me feel a teensy bit better. "Thank you, Stan. Where's Kenny?" I ask, my voice now calm and soft. Stan steps aside to let me in and points over to his dad's recliner where Kenny is sat watching Kyle play Nintendo. I give Stan back the empty glass and march over to Kenny. I stand in front of him, blocking his view of Kyle's game. I see his eyes widen for but a moment before I kick him square in the junk. "KENNY MCCORMICK, YOU ARE THE WORST FRIEND AND BIGGEST ASSHOLE I'VE EVER MET AND THAT SAYS SOMETHING CONSIDERING WE'VE KNOWN CARTMAN OUR WHOLE GODDAMN LIVES!" I scream at him in front of everyone. He's not wearing his parka so I have a full view of his face and just how red his cheeks are from embarrassment. The music suddenly stops and the whole room falls silent as everyone has their eyes on us. "NOT ONLY DO YOU THROW A PARTY AND TELL EVERYONE I'M SICK BUT YOU FORGET MY GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING BIRTHDAY FOR THE THIRD YEAR IN A MOTHERFUCKING ROW, YOU PIECE OF ABSOLUTE DOGSHIT! I HOPE YOU GET TOSSED ONTO A PIKE YOU SON OF A BITCH! I DON'T KNOW ABOUT YOU GUYS BUT I THINK THAT KENNY KABOBS SOUND PRETTY GODDAMN GOOD RIGHT ABOUT NOW!" And I kick him square in the junk one more time. Just for good measure, of course. "Okay everyone, let the party continue! It is my birthday, after all!" I slit my eyes in Kenny's direction when I say the word 'birthday'.

     The music starts up again and everyone goes back to partying like nothing even happened. I walked into the kitchen to pour myself a heavy drink when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I roll my eyes sighing. Spinning around, I say "Kenny, I'm not sorry for kicking you in the balls and I'm especially not sorry for crashing your party, either." But when I spin around I am not met with blonde hair and blue-green eyes. I am met with messy black hair peeking out of a cute blue hat. "I'm not sorry you did either of those things, too. He really deserved it." It's Craig. I look up at his rather tall frame. Craig has towered over me since we were little. "Oh, sorry. I thought you were Kenny." He fakes being wounded in the chest. "Ouch, (Y/N). That bad, huh?" I could only laugh at his cheesy joke and brush his arm as I reply, "Nah, you're way cuter." His cheeks turn bright pink and that's when I notice Kenny watching out of the corner of my eye. I wrap my arms around Craig's neck and pull him in. We start to makeout and he has me pressed up against the wall. I break away only to pull him up the staircase to Kenny's bedroom. I open the door as Craig takes off his shirt. I turn to him as he pins me to the door, shutting it. He pulls my shirt off and unclasps my bra. He moves me to the bed and takes his hat off, placing it gently atop my head. Removing my skirt and undergarments, Craig kisses his way up my legs before he has me pinned beneath him. I never thought that my first time would be like this. As a revenge tactic with someone I didn't love. Especially not with Craig Tucker. He's leaning down to kiss me again when the door slams wide open. Kenny bursts through the door and pulls Craig off of me by the back of his head, slamming him into the wall. I jump up to my elbows. It appears that Craig is rendered unconscious. He's still breathing at least. I can see his chest moving rhythmically. I stare at Kenny as his head turns to me, his breathing hot and heavy. I can see why. He has a raging boner in his jeans. He pulls off his shirt and crawls on top of me. We make very intense and intimate eye contact for a few silent moments. "I'm sorry, (Y/N). I shouldn't have forgotten." I clear my throat. "Or lied to everyone about you being sick. Can you please forgive me?" Kenny gives me his best puppy eyes, the ones that always got me to do whatever he wanted when we were little and even still to this day. "Okay, fine. I'll forgive you." He smiled at me softly kissing me on the lips. "You weren't really about to give away what's mine to Craig, right?" I shake my head while giggling. He chuckles. "Good. Now let me give you your birthday gift." He strips his bottoms and I flip him over. "Let me." I whisper. I get real close to his face before I whisper, "Nice try, asshole." I sit back up and slap him across the face. "You could never have me no matter how bad you want me, McCormick." I spit in his face as I got up, Craig's hat still atop my head. I saunter over to the door taking a final turn to look at Kenny. "You'd just die on me anyways, you fucking flip phone." Those were the last words I ever spoke to Kenny McCormick as I left him laying there confused and sexually frustrated with his cock out in a room with an unconscious Craig.

Word Count:1,358

[concook20]

Wild Kratts New Backstory And Headcanons! (Villains)

Same thing as the Crew, only, it's not only for the villains, but also with two people, Paisley and Rex, and I decided to add them after I did some research and I actually enjoy the dynamic!

Now I've added the assistants with their bosses, but I'll do their background separately to cause any issues.

Zach's Bio:

Full Name: Zach Alexander Lee Varmitech

Age: 23

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Gay (VERY! Closeted)

Birthday: August 26th

Zodiac Sign: Virgo

Job Application: Inventor/Business Owner

Relationship:

Martin: Moral Enemy

Chris: Secret Friend/Crush

Aviva: Moral Enemy

Koki: Enemy

JZ: Enemy

Khris: Best Friend Ever!

Donita: Best Friend

Dabio: Neutral

Gourmand: Friend

Paisley: Don't Mind

Rex: Neutral

Vert: Introvert

Phobia: Entomophobia (Fear Of Insects)

Favoritism:

Color: Black, red, and green

Singers: Classical musicians, opera, and musicals/plays

YouTube: None

Animal: None

Hobbies: Playing piano and violin, organizing stuff (books, albums, etc.), reading books, and playing board games (chess, checkers, etc.)

Past Relationships

None! Zach is single and a virgin! However! Once he got back from his vacation, he took a liking towards Chris, to the point he began to design pretty rocks and left it on his window on his birthday, it's the only way he knows how to show love. He wants to tell Chris how he feels, but he's EXTREMELY nervous on how to.

Headcanons

Zach owns many tech companies, but he never goes to do them cause... He doesn't know how to!

Zach is DEFINITELY Megamind if he was a goth, and even Paisley makes fun of him with it, which makes Zach very annoyed by it.

Zach has OCD and bad anxiety.

Zach couldn't handle criticism, good or bad, cause he'll cry like a baby.

Zach uses anonymous accounts to leave bad reviews for the worst movies, and hasn't attended to stop.

Zach is a HORRIBLE singer, but he doesn't care as he enjoys singing musicals and opera songs out loud.

Zach is a insomniac.

Zach is bad at tongue twisters.

Zach doesn't own any one pair of matching socks.

Zach wants a hug, but he doesn't know how to show it, so he leans on people for a hug.

Zach has a fear of bugs, because he doesn't like how they look when they move around and after learning some bugs and what they do, he immediately hates them.

Backstory

This Zach...is a clone- HEAR ME OUT!!! Let me explain!!! I have a personal idea that Pilot Zach is the REAL Zach, meanwhile the Series Zach is actually a clone that's covering for him as he takes a long and relaxing vacation. He needs a break from 'dumbass villains' (his words), the Wild Rats, dumb animals, and his stupid robots, but he can't just up and disappear without a reason, so he created Series Zach in order to cover for him. No one, not even Zach or Khris, knows about the fact he's a clone.

Zach may not remember his family, but he does treat his Zach Bots like his own personal family, celebrate holidays and birthdays with them, naming them, even treat them like his own kids. He did create two Zach Bots of the brothers, but the "only successful one" was Khris, as he adores and cares for him like they're best friends.

------------------------------------------------------------

Khris's Bio:

Full Name: Khris Varmitech Cratt

Age: 22 (as programmed)

Gender: Male (as programmed)

Sexuality: Demisexual

Birthday: July 19th (as programmed)

Zodiac Sign: Cancer (as programmed)

Job Application: Assistant/Combat Trainer

Relationship:

Martin: Moral Enemy

Chris: Neutral

Aviva: Moral Enemy

Koki: Enemy

JZ: Enemy

Zach: Best Friend Ever!

Donita: Friend

Dabio: Friend

Gourmand: Neutral

Paisley: Neutral

Rex: Neutral

Vert: Ambivert

Phobia: None

Favoritism

Colors: Red and black

Singers: Classic Musicians

YouTube: None

Animal: Siberian Tiger

Hobbies: Playing board games (chess, checkers, etc.), combat fighting and training, gymnastics, and yoga and meditation.

Past Relationships

Khris has never been in a relationship, ever! Though, he does want to have a feeling of finding love, making him sad inside as Zach vents to him about his love issues with Chris, but he hides for his friend's sake, though, human or robot, he wants to find the one.

Headcanons

Khris's abilities:

Cloaking (Invisibility or camouflaging).

Shapeshift (Change into anyone he wants).

Strength (Obviously, since he's a robot).

Charging or Reducing (Taking or filling up electricity).

Voice Change (Can change voice whoever he wants).

Khris is the 'Well! Actually!-' guy, prove me wrong!

Khris is like Shego with Drago, being sarcastic and charming in his own blunt way.

Khris's outfit came from Donita, after she forced him to model for his new outfit.

Where Zach goes to get animals, Khris went off to get souvenirs or stuff from the shops there, he collects stuff like that.

Khris can eat ANYTHING! No matter what it is, glass, wood, dirt, metal, he eats it!

Even if he's intelligent, Khris doesn't have the best social skills, unless it's with Zach.

When Khris finds love, if he ever finds the one, he acts like Wall-E after he meets Eve, shy, sweet, and always wanting to hold their hands.

Khris can charge, but he doesn't sleep, because he wasn't programmed to... So he sometimes watches Zach sleep... And by sometimes, I mean often.

Obviously, there is no reason for Khris to fear anything, because Zach wants a bodyguard and a best friend, so he builds Khris to be strong and smart.

Backstory

Obviously, he's not Chris, so he ain't getting his backstory, but, he does get one of his own. So Zach built the Kratt brothers to have them against the REAL Kratt brothers, however, 'something happened' to the Martin bot, so it's just Khris all alone. Khris is envious of Chris sometimes, considering the fact he has HIS Martin, even if Khris hates him, but still... He wants his own Martin, too...

However, it ain't the same Zach we have right now, instead, it was actually Pilot Zach who created Khris and rebooted him after the Pilot Zach disappeared. Due to him being left alone old and rusty, Series Zach rebuild and reboot him in order to have a side kick and a best friend.

Khris, however, doesn't really think that much of it, considering he has his family right here, Zach, the villains, and the Zach Bots. Even if he's built by Zach, he still cares and protects him from anything, and he even protects the Zach Bots, especially from Martin, since he destroys them even more. He adores his family, even if he doesn't have a Martin... Right?...

Donita's Bio:

Full Name: Donita Annabelle Lin Donata

Age: 25

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Bisexual

Birthday: August 11th

Zodiac Sign: Leo

Job Application: Fashion Designer/Model (Side Job)

Relationship:

Martin: Enemy/Secret Past Relationship

Chris: Enemy

Aviva: Moral Enemy

Koki: Moral Enemy

JZ: Neutral

Zach: Best Friend

Khris: Friend

Dabio: Best Friend Ever!

Gourmand: Friend

Paisley: Don't Mind

Rex: Neutral

Vert: Ambivert

Phobia: Atychiphobia (Fear Of Failing)

Favoritism

Colors: Pink, rose gold, white, and blue

Singers: Beyoncé, Whitney Houston, Alicia Keys, and Bruno Mars

YouTube: None

Animal: Puma or black widow

Hobbies: Yoga, singing, dancing, and fashion designing

Past Relationships

Donita used to date 5 people, which didn't end well for her. Her first three were with a few handsome guys when she was 15, 17, and 20, who only used her for money and status. She dated a couple of girls, who one cheated on her with her ex when they were dating when Donita was 21, and the other dumped her, due to her not liking Donita that much, and they dated a few months after her break up. She does have a thing for Martin, even before their one night stand- 🫢...

Headcanons

Donita joined a modeling gig whenever she isn't doing her fashion business, which she loves to do, but she made sure she's healthy and not in those toxic ways.

Donita loves any body shape! Chubby, thin, doesn't matter, you're beautiful in her eyes!

Donita is a theater kid, she was a star in high school. Musical, plays, even some minor roles, she's amazing at it.

Donita is lactose intolerant and is allergic to peanuts.

Esmeralda was Donita's bisexual crush when she was young.

Donita wants to show love, but is scared to, even when someone likes her.

Donita knows the lyrics to EVERY Bruno Mars song by heart.

Donita steals some people's clothes because she likes it... I think we all know who's.

Donita is a simp... She's very good at hiding it.

Donita feels pressured and nervous whenever her mother comes over and criticizes her about what her outfits look like and how Donita looks, making her feel more scared, hating to fail her mother.

Backstory

Donita is the only child to her mother, Rosalie, a fashion designer, and father, Theodore, a...MAFIA LEADER?! She's part of the Donata Family Mafia, who runs the mob business in Italy, where her parents stay. Her father supports and cares for her whenever she needs it, but Rosalie is like Cruella De Vil, like she forces her daughter to look beautiful, makes her do pageantry, puts her on a strict diet, and even teaches her how to use the beauty of the animals for her fashion, like skinning them, stealing webs from spiders, even force people to do whatever you want.

Donita was horrified, but she began to ignore it, as she proceeded to do whatever she can to make her mother proud, and she almost began to be like her, a monster, until she met Dabio, and she learns to calm down and be herself around him, but when she's around others, she's someone else entirely. She hates being like her mother, but only Dabio knows her true self, and that's exactly what she tends to keep.

------------------------------------------------------------

Dabio's Bio:

Full Name: Dabio Matteo Bendetti

Age: 26

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Gay

Birthday: November 12th

Zodiac Sign: Sagittarius

Job Application: Assistant/Model

Relationship:

Martin: Neutral

Chris: Neutral

Aviva: Enemy

Koki: Enemy

JZ: Enemy

Zach: Don't Mind

Khris: Best Friend Ever!

Donita: Best Friend Ever!

Gourmand: Neutral

Paisley: Neutral

Rex: Best Friend

Vert: Extrovert

Phobia: Arachnophobia (Fear Of Spider)

Favoritism

Colors: Teal, yellow, and white

Singers: Disney music, Olivia Rodrigo, and Micheal Bublé

YouTube: None

Animal: Snow Tiger

Hobbies: Ribbon twirling, knitting, body building, and jogging

Past Relationships

He hasn't been in a relationship for a while, and he doesn't need to, since he never really thinks he could ever find love, due to the fact he gets shy and embarrassed of himself when he does find someone. Donita tries to help him, but he still feels overwhelmed and either runs away or freezes up.

Headcanons

Dabio is a brunette, but he dyed his hair blonde, JZ knows about it after the two ran into each other at the hair dye aisle.

Dabio has ✨ADHD✨ and dyslexia.

Dabio cries during Disney Movies.

Dabio hugs someone whenever they deserve it, so stay on this gentle giants good side.

Dabio adores children! He wants a child of his own, but it's impossible to know how to get a kid.

Dabio is obviously amazing at walking on platform heels.

Dabio uses two-in-one shampoo and conditioner.

Dabio is a gentle giant, but you hurt his friend Donita... You won't be found.

Dabio isn't very good with social skills that much.

Dabio has a fear of spiders, because when he was young, some boys pushed him into a basement full of spiders, making him have a full on panic attack, to the point he fainted. He never went near one ever since...

Backstory

He doesn't have a father, but he did have a helicopter mother, named Julia, who made sure her son is perfect. He feels pressured, insecure, and easily overwhelmed, due to her always being around him. It got worse and he came out, and she tried to force him to date a girl, where he met Donita. He didn't want to and broke down in front of Donita, who understood and pretended to date him until he moved.

Donita didn't want Dabio to struggle, so she offered a job for Dabio, who took it with excitement, not only did he want to be a model and a fashion designer, but he also loved to be around Donita, seeing her as his very first friend, and he vows to keep her happy like she did him.

Full Name: Gaston Alexandre Gourmand

Age: 45

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Ally

Birthday: November 20th

Zodiac Sign: Scorpio

Job Application: Chef

Relationship:

Martin: Moral Enemy

Chris: Enemy

Aviva: Enemy

Koki: Enemy

JZ: Moral Enemy

Zach: Friend

Khris: Friend

Donita: Best Friend

Dabio: Neutral

Paisley: Friend

Rex: Enemy

Vert: Ambivert (Mostly Extrovert)

Phobia: Pistanthrophobia (Fear Of Being Vulnerable)

Favoritism

Colors: White and gray

Singers: Classic Musicians

YouTube: None

Animal: Black bear

Hobbies: Cooking and baking, hunting, playing the banjo, and model planes

Past Relationships

Gourmand was in a relationship with his fiancee, but it didn't work out as the two didn't work out on anything, moving, dinner, even their opinions. They decided to part ways on good terms.

Headcanons

Gourmand instinctively cleans messes in their own house as well as other peoples.

Gourmand DESPISE Gordon Ramsay, and hated how Khris calls him "Chubby Ramsay", making his eye twitches.

Gourmand is pretty good in salsa dancing, but no one knows about that.

Gourmand is very generous in a rather twisted way.

No lie, Gourmand ABSOLUTELY LOVES spicy food and can eat a ghost pepper without crying or dying.

Gourmand is overanalytical about the most random bullshit.

This dude can do FUCKING SICK knife tricks on a whim!

Gourmand is very good at using chopsticks.

Gourmand has a knife under their bed... For reasons.

Gourmand has anger issues he can't really control... So... Yeah...

Gourmand kidnaps Chris mostly, to help Zach confess his feelings to him... But that just makes Martin angry... Which causes the two to hate each other, and Gourmand to fear him.

Backstory

Gourmand has a father, named Phillip, a mother, named Bella, a little sister, named Lily, and a grandmother, named Gina. His mother taught him how to cook, where he began to cook better than her and his grandmother, making his mother jealous and beginning to resent him because of it.

Gourmands father is sexist, due to him being raised different, and he didn't like his son for cooking and force him to hunt, which he actually likes, but it did make him act like a father to Zach and Khris, since they do cause more trouble than most of the villains, but he does care for them like son.

His sister is ten years younger than him, who is a golden child, but he doesn't really care, considering the fact he doesn't really think much about his family, but they do get credit to give him help with dream.

Paisley's Bio:

Full Name: Paisley Sue Ellen Paver

Age: 28

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Demisexual

Birthday: January 26th

Zodiac Sign: Aquarius

Job Application: Paving Company

Relationship:

Martin: Neutral

Chris: Likes

Aviva: Likes

Koki: Likes

JZ: Neutral

Zach: Neutral

Khris: Neutral

Donita: Neutral

Dabio: Neutral

Gourmand: Friend

Rex: Best Friend Ever!/Crush

Vert: Ambivert (Mostly Introvert)

Phobia: Haphephobia (Fear Of Being Touched)

Favoritism

Color: Light purple

Singer: Britney Spears

YouTube: None

Animal: Munchkin kitty

Hobbies: Doing crossword puzzles, ice skating, reading, and writing some things (notes, stories, etc.)

Past Relationships

Paisley was in one, and of course, it ended badly... She was SA'd, and she never felt comfortable with being touched, even with her best friend, Rex, she despised being touched.

Headcanons

Paisley, desperately, needs a hug, but doesn't know it and refuses to ask for one.

Paisley likes being alone most of the time, but other times, she enjoys her time with her friends.

Paisley hates short jokes, I don't blame her, they are a LITTLE annoying.

Paisley is a cat person.

Paisley is oblivous to any and all romantic interest someone may show them.

Paisley never had a pretty color or flower, until Rex said light purple and lilies, which made her happy to see him happy.

Paisley can design pretty well, like drawing and inventing, but it's sometimes rare to see her do any of those things.

Paisley instinctively cleans messes in their own house as well as other peoples.

Paisley knows 5 languages, French, Spanish, Italian, German, and Russian.

Backstory

Paisley is in the Paver company, who paves things, places, or anything the client wants. Her father, Alexander, teaches her how to run the company, since he has cancer, where she began to do the company to make her father proud, only... Her father is a corrupted business man, who hurt animals, even selling some, in order to have his paving company booming.

Paisley meets Rex during the construction of her company, and she didn't like him at first, thinking he was annoying, but she slowly grew fond of him, to the point the two began to bond and work together to make her father proud. Once she saw the beauty of the animals though... It made her realize her father was wrong and immediately stopped.

------------------------------------------------------------

Rex's Bio:

Full Name: Rexford William James Roosevelt

Age: 29

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Ally

Birthday: March 3rd

Zodiac Sign: Pisces

Job Application: Assistant/Construction Worker

Relationship:

Martin: Neutral/Don't Mind

Chris: Neutral/Don't Mind

Aviva: Neutral

Koki: Neutral

JZ: Likes

Zach: Neutral

Khris: Friend

Donita: Neutral

Dabio: Friend

Gourmand: Enemy

Paisley: Best Friend Ever!/Crush

Vert: Ambivert (Mostly Extrovert)

Phobia: Hemophobia (Fear Of Blood)

Favoritism

Color: Orange and green

Singer: Britney Spears

YouTube: None

Animal: Woodpecker

Hobbies: Collecting action figures, Artistry (drawing, painting, sculpting, etc), gardening, and ice hockey

Past Relationships

Same as Khris, he's single and looking for love, only he found one with Paisley, and he wanted to confess his feelings to her, but he's nervous since she was in a bad relationship and they're friends, and he doesn't wanna ruin it, because of his love for her, so he keeps it to himself.

Headcanons

Martin may prank people, but Rex joins in when it comes to Gourmand, making a neutral friendship between the two.

Rex knocks people over by hugging them.

Yes, Theodore Roosevelt is Rex's ancestor.

Rex is chaotic as hell, but he secretly acts innocent and sweet to throw people off.

Rex was forced to eat cement as a child, which made him more careful.

Rex has a anonymous account of anything DC or Marvel, he does it whenever he feels like he needed drama.

Rex looks like he wants to kill anyone when he wakes up without coffee.

Rex writes poems and leaves them for Paisley to make her day happy when she has a rough day.

Rex has fallen asleep at their desk, while working in the middle of the night. He wakes up with a blanket on him and a coffee next to him most of the time.

Rex has a stimming issue most of the time, and he doesn't mind it if it doesn't bother anyone.

Rex doesn't own a single pair of matching socks.

Rex hates blood after an incident at work that almost killed him, and there was blood everywhere, that made him immediately quizzy and sick, to the point he passed out and worked up at the hospital

Backstory

Rex has no parents or family, since they died in a freak accident, leaving him all alone. He was an orphan, who has to work his way up to make money, to the point he works at a construction place at the age of 13. It was a hard struggle, and he almost died, but he still worked hard to get cash and make a living.

As he worked his way to the top, he met Paisley and immediately fell in love, he tried to tell her funny stories and do stupid stuff to get her attention, which never works, until he calmed down and takes things slow with her, as that actually began to work and the two form a friendship. And he vowed to make her happy and loved whenever she needed it.

OMG! FINALLY FINISHED! I hope you guys enjoy this!

[abhainnwhump]

Hello! I know you have your own life, but I want to make sure you are ok!

Hi. Thank you for asking. Unfortunately, I'm not.

I'm sorry I haven't updated in a month, I've had no motivation to. I'm not sure if I even will because of how toxic the internet and fandom has become. I've thought about it all month and Jakei's departure was the final nail in the coffin. For my general whump fans who don't know, Jakei is the creator of Underverse, my biggest inspiration, discontinued the project due to harassment for frankly petty drama. She didn't deserve it and screw everyone who harassed her.

The last two chapters would've been an epilogue and a bonus chapter. The epilogue is about Nightmare and Ribbon's life 4 years in the future. They have a daughter, Aurora, and Nightmare has almost full control of the multiverse. Nightmare has a meeting with Dream regarding the rescue group Core Frisk started. Dream attempts to snap out of mind control and tries to attack Ribbon and Aurora, but Nightmare stops him. He sends Ribbon and Aurora to the dollhouse Ribbon made out of the Star Sanses' base. Blue is there with a prisoner that annoyed him, bringing him to Ribbon to take care of. Ribbon gets excited and has a tea party with the prisoner. The catch is the tea is poisoned and Ribbon brutally transforms him into a fluffy plush owl. He adds it to his collection and spends the rest of the time hanging out with Blue.

The bonus chapter is about two stories. One is the creation of Aurora and the other is about Core Frisk and how they're handling the apocalypse. Nightmare still wants an heir even if Ribbon is unsure and nervous about the process. He pressures him into it and Ribbon agrees. It's Horror's birthday and after the celebrations, Nightmsre takes Ribbon away to perform the spell. Later, the little soul (literally) is raised on a pillow. Ribbon spends all his time taking care of it like a good totally not brainwashed housewife would do.

Meanwhile, Core Frisk sent a team out for a rescue mission and had to step in and help after being overwhelmed by infected monsters. They manage to get away but Core notices Underfell Sans trying to hide something. They force Fell to hand over their arm to reveal it's scratched and infected. Core quickly amputates it so he's safe. Then they have an encounter with Epic, who sent the monsters in their direction in the first place for a "fun little trap".

The toxicity is not an Undertale/ UTMV fandom only issue, rather I see it in nearly every fandom now. A bunch of entitled purity "activists" with nothing better to do them stir up drama and add politics into everything. Even the non-fandom art community feels like one big game of king of the hill. It feels like most of them are only artists for attention and mainly focus on ripping down as many artists as possible.

It's gotten to the point where I don't feel safe putting my name on anything in fear of being a target. I don't want to make a mistake and then get threatened to be killed with broken glass 5 years later. Especially when I write dark subject matter.

I'm probably going to delete all my social media accounts and only post AO3 fanfics anonymously. Will they still be UTMV? Maybe. I still want to write that Kid Icarus: Uprising sequel. The bonus part about that fandom is that there's like 12 people that still know that game exists. I also want to write my original novels, but again, I fear putting my name out there in the world.

Thank you so much for everything who read IMYM and my general whump stories and prompts. Again, I'm sorry.

[glasswinggames]

"You can't seriously be working on your birthday?!"

"Well, good day to you too," the mage looks over the top of his glasses disapprovingly. "Perhaps we need to call your ettiquette teacher back, as that was no way to greet someone."

"You're changing the subject." The corner of his mouth twitches at your astute observeration. "Hana said you don't celebrate your birthday?"

"That's quite right, I see no need to. If my twin sister wants such engagements for herself, then I see no problem humouring her, but I hardly need a whole song and dance just to commemorate the day I was born." Helios sighs as it's very clear that you're not happy with that answer. "Look, thousands of babies are born daily, it's hardly a unique achievement, so I see no need to make a fuss about it."

"It's not about the achievement, it's about the people who love you wanting to show that they're happy you were born and are here." Your chin and arms rest nicely on the edge of his desk, looking up at his blue eyes with a gentle smile as you try to get through his fifty layers of stubbornness. "It's unique because there will only ever be one you."

"You wouldn't happen to be one of those people, would you?"

"I am." You nod so resolutely that even he seems surprised, "I love and want to celebrate you."

The Archduke looks away, but there is no hiding the light crimson blush that reaches the back of his neck. "Fine."

"Fine?!"

"Fine, I'll humour you, but nothing too extravagant or I'm going back to work and taking back your key to my office."

"Aye aye Captain! Get ready and meet me at the tower roof!"

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing now?"

But you're already gone.

Maybe he shouldn't have taught you that teleportation spell?

---

"I still don't see why I had to change." Helious doesn't announce his entrance as he appears at your side. He had changed into robes of various hues of blue, some heavier and more tightly bound around his body, and others more floating, making him look as if he's floating. It kind of reminds you of the hanbok on Earth. It's only when he catches you looking does he explain the difference in style from his usual outfits. "This is traditional wear in Kohira, there are different levels, but this is one for light celebrations."

"It suits you." You can't help but smile as he only hums in response, for someone so confident, he's really bad at accepting compliments sometimes.

"What are we doing here? I'm surprised I didn't arrive to see a full blown surprise gala."

"You wouldn't have enjoyed that, though." You love how you catch him by surprise when you say things like that. To you it'd be obvious not to celebrate in a way the birthday boy hated, but to high society? You were expected to suck it up. "I just thought we could watch the lanterns, and send some up ourselves."

In the North, it was tradition to send up lanterns on someone's birthday to wish them well for the coming year. For the Archduke, the whole region got involved, with festivals and celebrations held across the cities.

Of course Helios had no idea about that.

"I worry you'll be disappointed, it's not such a dramatic sight. But, I suppose it's been a few years since I've upheld the tradition, so I may as well partake with you. At least there'll be two in the skies."

"Yes yes, thank you for taking one for the team." You nudge him with your shoulder, and he responds with the patience of someone who had grown up with three sisters. "Oh look, they're starting now!"

You point out to the skyline, where one or two specks of light suddenly appear.

"That's nice, the lights are pretty." He was trying to reassure you, make you feel better about the poor turnout. "Shall we set off ones--"

For once, he is rendered speechless as he is interrupted by a burst of light that bursts up over the Archdukedom. Lanterns from every corner fly up like a sea of fireflies. Illuminating the skies like stars.

"What the--"

"Helios?"

He turns around to see you, surrounded by lanterns as you release them. Dozens upon dozens surge upwards, powered by the magic circles drawn on their surface.

"These are all my well wishes for you! Happy Birthday Helios!"

"Have I ever told you that you're crazy?"

"Many times."

"Apparently not enough."

Though he says this, even he can't stop the soft smile that has taken over his sharp features. This is perhaps the most emotional you'd seen him, as he struggles to process his feelings.

"Do you want to send one up?" You bring him a final lantern that you'd reserved just for him.

"... Sure." He hesitates, but as he looks out at the lanterns that just keep going, more and more being added to the fray, he surprisingly agrees. "You added my symbol."

"Of course, wouldn't want anyone to get confused who they're for."

"Silly."

Unlike the others below, Helios needs no magic stone to set off the lantern. A blue light surrounds his hands as he writes a magic circle in his kind, and then, the lantern bobs up slowly and gently. It's a level of materia control you're yet to possess.

You both watch the light fly up to the sky, joining the parade of others. Neither of you need any words, the magic of the moment is enough on its own.

You feel a sudden weight on your shoulder, only to find it is Helios resting his head.

"Just let me stay like this for a while even if it's uncomfortable. It's my birthday, after all." It takes everything in you not to burst out laughing, just in case you shake him too much and frighten him away. So you stifle your chuckles behind your hand and change the subject.

"What did you wish for?"

"I can't tell you that."

"I didn't take you for the superstitious type?"

"I'm not, those are the rules of the tradition, why would I break them?"

"That is so you."

...

"Helios?"

He hums quietly in response, the last of the nights filling up the night sky, just small dots in your vision, but neither of you want to move until the last disappears.

"I'm so happy you were born, and that you're here. I'm lucky to have met you."

Liquid blue eyes look up at you momentarily, revealing flushed cheeks that you know he'd lie and say were from the cold air. In the end he can't say anything, but just slips his hand into your own and gives it a squeeze.

"Happy Birthday, Helios."

----

Art by @/uranyaart on twitter/X