#It's kinda hard to find one that has what I want that also fits other criteria.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@zepskies

Oooh I can't wait to see what you think about this one! 💗

I love CCR too and I don't know why, but Russell has CCR vibes for me whenever I look at him so I feel that the CCR will be a theme for him lol 😂

Ughhhh we've all seen this type, even as non-parents lmao. Miss SUPER INVOLVED and therefore gets off at telling other parents what to do. It's kind of sick in the head. 🙃

Oh yes. The one that finds joy in putting other mothers in their place- the "Regina George" lol. I also watched A Bad Moms Christmas the other day and I may have been imagining Christina Applegate's character 😅 It's such a good Christmas movie though lol.

Ha! You paint a very vivid picture here -- and I knew entire packs of girls like this growing up. They were blonde and skinny and "perfect" to boys, while any girls who didn't look like them automatically weren't as cool or pretty or whatever. I already like where this intro is going, even as I'm super curious as to how Russell is going to fit into all of this...

Thank you! I know it's a bit of a stereotype, but... we all knew those girls 😒 Russell is going to be a bit of a shock to her world lol.

God, I already feel for her. She already feels so real as a character, and even though I'm not a parent, I can certainly relate on the body insecurity thing. (And I already want to kill her ex-husband, not just for cheating and leaving her, but for the psychological/emotional scars involved in any comments he made on her body.)

I also relate to her on the body insecurity level. I've only written one other reader who had body insecurity in my You Call It Madness But I Call It Love series with Soldier Boy, but I thought that it would be something fun to explore with Russell. He seems like the kind of guy who wouldn't care about things like that, and really would see the reader as some beautiful "goddess" and think that he's the luckiest man in the world for getting her. I also think that he too would want to "kill her ex-husband" (lol) for leaving those kind of scars behind. I know it was supposed to be a one-shot, but I'm literally thinking about all the ways that Russell can make her forget what her husband said/did to her and to make the reader feel beautiful again. 🥰

Plus I also may have been inspired to write another reader who is insecure about her body by your wonderful Midnight Espresso series! 🤭

OMFGGGGG and I thought I was the only one who watched The Meg!! 🤣🤣🤣 I feel like if you love Jurassic Park, you're gonna like The Meg. 😆

I LOVE THE MEG! And you know how much I love Jurassic Park LOL. No really all shark/monster/creature features are my favorite to watch- also kinda my comfort movies lol 😅😂 (Alien, Deep Blue Sea, Jaws, The Mummy, Tremors, Predator, etc.) I even like the ones that are just so over the top ridiculous with terrible acting.

God, I love him. 😂 Already he's spot on for me, friend. 👌🏽 And Colter's response too -- had me smiling hard. Love a long-suffering Colter lmao.

Thank you! I've never written for Russell before, so I was kinda nervous about this one. He's kinda like Dean, but a little more awkward, and a little like Ben, but without the toxic masculinity comments lol. Maybe 50/50? Colter is really hanging on by a thread lol.

Ok, this might be a small detail to focus on, but I freakin' love wine and fancy cheese I can't afford (but buy anyway). 🤣 I don't do it often, but especially around New Year's I like to make a charcuterie board and get some nice wine.~

No it's okay! That sounds so fun! Fancy cheese and wine is NEVER too expensive- Treat👏🏻 Yo👏🏻 Self👏🏻. I can't make a charcuterie board to save my life 😭, but one of my friends is a master of charcuterie board creation and she is always automatically elected to make the charcuterie boards for parties. She gets no say in the matter lol 🤣

Also, I love how in-character flirty joking Russell is while he has LITERAL bullet wounds in his body. But also how the reader is getting kinda flustered with him already, trying and failing not to notice his attractiveness, but also that this guy has been through some shit (hence his scars, ruggedness, etc.).

Oh I know, man is trying to shoot his shot WHILE HE IS SHOT 🤣 The reader is trying her hardest, but Russell is just so distracting... Kinda seems like this reader could use a lot of distracting from Russell if you know what I mean 😉😮‍💨😏

Lmfaooo. I don't blame her honestly. Russell is most definitely not playing fair! 😝😝

He's not lol and he knows EXACTLY what he's doing 🤭

YUP. Got 'im! That's Russell in a nutshell. 🫠🫠🫠

Again thinking about the the big worn/rough hand from manual labor and hard work from an actual man and not a boy pretending to be a man.

I'm living for these little details of background color lmaoo.

Thank you 😊 I wanted to try and make it as realistic as I could!

Oh God, as if I couldn't love this any more. I feel like Russell would appreciate a curvy girl. Maybe that sounds self-serving since I'm a curvy girl myself loll, but idk, he just seems a lot like Dean, and I don't think they'd discriminate. 🫠

Again YES A MILLION TIMES YES 😍 I believe that Russell would appreciate a curvy girl- it is NOT self serving because I am also a curvy girl lol (or maybe it is because I wrote this fic lol). But I don't think that Dean or Russell would care about things like that, if anything I think that they'd want to show their significant other what they see and how beautiful their significant other really is. Again thank you so much for your work on Midnight Espresso 🫡🫡

God, can he just STFU and LEAVE already?? I love that Russell had to come out and back her up -- better yet that he punched out that prick! I'm sure he could've laid him out so well the hospital wouldn't know how to put him back together again.

Apparently I have a penchant for writing trash men who disrespect women...😬 But IF ANYONE deserved to have the stuffing slapped out of them it was Lance. Humpty Dumpty would never have been able to be put back together if Russell REALLY went in on him, GUARANTEED. Also I really just love the trope of protective male characters watching out for their girl. 🥰

Omggg YESS I would LOVE to see more of this. It feels like the start of something really interesting and fun, and I would so love to read more. You did so well with Russell's interesting dichotomy of kind and funny and flirty, but also with an underlying edge of danger. I also love the single mom reader in this, and I don't think she's "too much of an OC." I think it just makes her all the more interesting, and it's fun to imagine myself in her shoes. She's strong, but vulnerable with relatable insecurities, and Russell seems like exactly the kind of man she needs in her life, despite the instability of his lifestyle. Maybe she can be the one to help anchor him. 😏💕💕

Oh my goodness thank you so much my lovely friend!!! 😭😊 Writing for Russell was intimidating, but I'm very happy with how this fic turned out, so much so that I am going to write a part 2! As soon as I get through some more of my WIPs... The list keeps growing 😅

I was really worried about her being a bit too OC, but thank you so much for saying that! I do think that the little quirks make her more believable and a little more "real." And yes! You're right on the money! Russell is exactly the kind of man she needs in her life to get her groove back and give her a little more confidence. And who knows? Maybe you're right, maybe she will be exactly who Russell needs as well to keep him anchored and grounded to one place. 😉😏

Pairing: Russell Shaw xf!reader, Reader POV

Summary:  The last thing that you wanted was to be woken up in the middle of the night by Colter Shaw for a favor, but when he shows up toting a ruggedly handsome man with green eyes you decide to forgive him. Reader is the niece of Velma and Teddi!

Word Count: 10.3K

Warnings: I'm gonna label this one 18+ just in case I missed anything. Blood, Cleaning Out A Wound, Mentions of Allergies? Gunshots, Some Cursing, A Bit of Sexual Innuendo, Sexual fantasy/reader has active imagination, Self-deprecating Thoughts/Body Issues (reader), Mentions of Infidelity, Reader Is A Single Mom, Appearance Of Creepy-Jerk Ex Husband, Probably a Poor Description Of What It’s Like To Be A Single Mom (I tried my best, please I do not mean to offend anyone❤️), Russell Shaw might be a little bit OOC. Reader is occasionally described as "curvy."

Song Inspiration: Long As I Can See The Light By Creedence Clearwater Revival

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n if any. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite! This is my first time writing for Russell Shaw, so, please be gentle. 😅

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

A/N: I finally watched Tracker… Could you tell? 😂

Sunday nights, in your opinion, were the worst.

It was like the last few moments of freedom before you were thrust into a busy work week, like the last few rays of light before the coming darkness that you barely survived with copious amounts of coffee and bloodied fingertips. Monday always loomed, but never as much as on Sunday nights.

The dull thud of your phone vibrating against your wooden bedside table grates on your ears and pulls you from the sweet precipice of sleep before you can fall into the void.

It felt as if you’d just collapsed into your bed and one look at the alarm clock on your bedside table as you blinked your bleary eyes confirmed it. It was 3:58 am, which meant you had been in bed for exactly three minutes.

You were still covered in chocolate cupcake batter, pink frosting, and rainbow sprinkles from the last six hours you'd spent in the kitchen making gluten free, sugar free, and peanut free cupcakes for a bake sale at your son’s school.

Even though you hadn't volunteered Stephanie Jacobson, or rather the wicked witch of the PTA, had cornered you in the pick-up line on Friday afternoon to remind you of your "duties as a parent" and the coming bake sale to support the building of the new gym. And then she’d handed you a list of student allergies and asked you to create something that was safe for everyone.

Taste be damned.

Why the school needed a new gym you didn't know, but the guilt that rose when Stephanie mentioned your "duties as a parent" was enough to make you say yes to whatever she asked you.

You had enough guilt already about raising your kids without a stable father figure, and the last thing you needed was guilt from a stuck up bitch in the PTA.

Stephanie reminded you of the girls in high school that used to pick at their food, the ones that knew exactly what to say to make you feel like a freak, the ones who dated the football players and spent their Friday nights wearing cheerleading uniforms and waving pom poms, and the ones who basically made everyone else's life a living hell.

Everything about her screamed superior. The flawless way she curled her perfect platinum blonde hair, the stylish clothes she wore than never seemed to have a wrinkle or a mashed carrot smeared on the pants, the supple breasts that she swore were real, a perfectly toned stomach that never seemed to change despite her having a child two months ago, and the easy way she handled all of her three children with a flourish of her left hand that housed a 6 karat diamond ring from her gorgeous husband that was so attentive, perfect, and rich that it made you feel sick to your stomach.

All of which anyone could read on her mommy blog that she'd dubbed "Little Mistakes Make Perfect Lessons," and the same blog that she'd created an empire from.

Fuck, you hated her.

Mostly because despite everything you tried you never had enough time in the day to look as flawless as she did.

Your hair never seemed to be as bouncy or perfectly styled, you never had time to put makeup on, you always had mashed carrot on your pants or some form of cheerio or baby food, as many times as you tried to carve out time for the gym you never seemed to make it, the small ring you'd once wore on your finger was sitting idle in your jewelry box upstairs where it had been for the past year after your husband of six years told you that he met someone else, and your stomach and your breasts… you didn't want to think about that right now.

You had two kids and you weren't going to pretend that it did nothing to your body, any part of your body. And as many times as you saw all the other mothers around you who were proud of the way they looked, you never had their confidence, especially not after the comments that your ex-husband had made each time the two of you finally had some time to be alone together.

But that wasn't to say you hated being a mom, you loved it, wouldn't change it for the world. It was just sometimes you wished you had a little help, that, and you wished that Mondays didn't exist. 

You groan as you reach for the phone that still vibrates desperately on your bedside table and flip it over to see who's calling before you answer it.

"Colter, why the hell are you calling me at four am?" You half moan, pulling the comforter up over your head as if that'll make Monday go away.

You'd been close to murder several times, first when you found your husband in your bed with his nineteen year-old secretary, second when your local coffee shop was out of espresso and you did your entire shift at the hospital with no coffee, and Colter Shaw waking you up at almost four in the morning was quickly becoming number three.

"Because I didn't want to wake up Emma or Luke. Can you open the door?" He replies, stating the names of your children, sounding slightly out of breath.

"What door?" You groan again, eyes still shut wishing that this was just a bad dream and Colter wasn't calling you because he needed your help… again.

"The front door. Please, I need you to let me in."

"Why are you here? Couldn't it wait until tomorrow? Did you try to call Teddi or Vel-"

"I'll explain when you come open the door."

"By doing that I'd have to get up."

"Please."

You hesitate. Colter didn't usually say please, let alone twice whenever he showed up needing your help.

You'd met him by accident.

Sure your Aunt Teddi had talked about the "rewardist" that she and your Aunt Velma worked with, but you hadn't been expecting to ever meet him. But when Colter got shot on a job and showed up at Teddi and Velma's home you'd helped patch him up. You'd been there picking up your six year old son Luke and your three year old daughter Emma, after work. Teddi and Velma watched them for you when your deadbeat ex Lance couldn't be bothered to give you the support you needed.

Which was all the time despite his continuous arguing that he was in their lives enough and if anything it was your fault that he didn't have more time with them.

Each time he said that it made you want to slam his head in the door of his brand new bright red BMW, the one he'd bought right after you found him in your bedroom plowing his secretary now girlfriend Crystal. Or as you liked to remember her, the girl who still believed that Santa Clause existed and that the U.S government was hiding him from the world.

But Colter had been hurt and it was just fate that you were there at your aunts home to pick up your kids.

Being an ER nurse meant that you knew how to patch Colter up and it wasn't long before he went on his way. That was about four months ago and since then you'd talked to him occasionally when he'd pop by at your aunts home or just to see if you could help him with something.

"Five minutes." You sigh.

This time you crawl out of bed, standing just to the side of it for a second shaking your head to clear the sleep, and grab the long sleeved blue colored duster/robe that was hanging on the back of your bedroom door. Navigating your way down the stairs in the dark as quietly as you can, while half asleep was difficult, but somehow you avoid falling to your death.

Unfortunate, because now you have to go see what Colter wants at freaking 4 am.

The second story home had been you ex-husband's idea, stated that the two of you needed "room to grow" and that the two of you were "investing in your future."

You frown at the thought.

Yeah, room to grow right into your fucking secretary.

As if you needed another blow to your self esteem, but looking at the skinny red-haired goddess that he'd traded you in for that was about as dumb as a rock had been enough to send you so low you might as well be navigating the Marianas Trench in a submarine with a Megalodon chasing after you.

Maybe that means I'd get to be with Jason Stratham.

That thought was welcome. Honestly the thought of any man was a comfort, especially in the dry spell you'd been having since -well- since you'd had Emma three years ago.

Not gonna think about that right now.

The smell of chocolate cupcakes hung heavy in the air as you crossed through the messy living room, wafting out through the open concept kitchen into the space. One look into the kitchen would show enough cupcakes to make anyone salivate, and yes maybe you'd eaten a few before going up to bed, but eating the chocolate didn't count if it was on Sunday night and you could always go to the gym tomorrow…

Yeah. Like that'll happen.

You open the front door. "Alright, somebody better be dying Colter or I swear that I'll-" You stop mid-sentence when you take in the scene on your porch.

Colter is standing there, looking worse for wear. His usual black jacket is gone, he's got a black eye and a scrape along one of his perfect cheekbones, but that's not who you're looking at.

Colter isn't alone.

There's a man leaning heavily on Colter, his muscular right arm is thrown across Colter's shoulders and due to the fact that the man is a little bigger than Colter, he's buckling slightly under his weight. The man is wearing a green army jacket that is soaked around his left shoulder in blood, his dark hair is falling long into his bearded face, and his skin is a few shades paler than it should be. But that doesn't make him any less handsome.

The man still manages to throw you a sly grin, brilliant green eyes shining beneath the strands of his dark hair. "I think you got your wish sweetheart."

"You're not dying Russell." Colter sighs as if he's annoyed. "Hi." He directs at you.

You do feel a little bit bad about saying that now, but you shake it off.

"What the hell happened?" You say as loud as you dare and pull the front door further open so Colter can drag the man, now named "Russell" into your home.

"Shoot out." Colter breathes. "Where do you want him?"

"Kitchen table." You say trying to reach for Russell's left arm to help Colter, but he groans low under his breath and you retract your hand.

"You've got to be a little gentle with me sweetheart." Russell laughs more to himself, but it comes out in a choked sound. "But you can have me wherever you want."

"Colter, he needs to go to the hospital." You say, following behind them, keeping your voice down. "I don't think that I can-"

"Can't, they'll report it. They have to report all gunshots, you know that." Colter grunts, helping Russell lay back on the large kitchen table. "Why are there so many cupcakes in here?"

"Bake sale at Luke’s school." You clip while waving a hand and looking down at Russell who is laying on the kitchen table.

You can't deny that he's attractive, even in this condition. Russell has the perfect ruggedly handsome features that would make the smartest girl stupid and combined with the piercing green eyes that shine beneath the hair that's fallen forward into his face, even you could see yourself being susceptible to his charm.

Fuck.

Deep down you know that Colter is right, that if he did go to the hospital they'd be required to report it and that meant police and an official report. You figured that it was the last thing that Colter wanted.

Then again the guy has so many marks on his record already. You eye the man on your kitchen table. Russell kinda looks like he would have a few marks too.

"Don't want who did this to find him." Colter clarifies.

"So instead you brought him to my house where my children are?" You cross your arms over your chest.

The fear that whatever Colter and Russell had stumbled upon following behind them to your home made a cold trickle of fear race down your spine.

"We weren't followed." Colter soothes. "I promise I'd never do that to you. And I've got Bobby doing a trace to make sure they don't come close."

He actually looks a little hurt that you'd think that of him. Colter was a lot of things, but uncaring was not one of them.

You relax, but don't apologize despite the guilt swimming in your gut. "Fine. Give me a second." You leave the room to find the first aid kit in the hall closet, the same one that you'd made for your aunts to keep at their house if Colter showed up in the middle of the night with this exact problem. You'd even been involved enough to show your aunts how to deal with a gunshot wound if you weren't there.

When you get back in the room, Colter is removing Russell's jacket, and Russell grits his teeth when it jostles his left arm.

You set down the kit and reach for the bottom of Russell's shirt to pull it up off him, and he chuckles.

"Aren't you going to buy me a drink first? Better yet we could have a few bottles of my home brew-"

"She's not going to help you, if you annoy her." Colter interrupts.

"I told you that I didn't need anyone's help, I'm perfectly fine- ow!" Russell exclaims when you accidentally yank the shirt over his left arm. "Your bedside manner is a little lacking." He grunts, but his eyes still twinkle with humor.

"Too bad. I'm tired and I've been making chocolate cupcakes for the past six hours, so you get what you get and you don't throw a fit."

"What?" Russell grins at the rhyme that you often tell your children.

You shake your head, and drop your eyes to his chest. There are two perfect circles on his right upper pectoral muscle, but not high enough to reach the collarbone and one in his left bicep where blood seeps around the bullets, but truthfully you're trying not to notice how perfectly muscular he is. There are dark splashes of tattoos against his skin, swirling around other scars that resemble slashes and bullet wounds that you wish to drag your fingertips across to study each mark, to memorize each one beneath the soft pads of your fingers.

How is he just as beautiful covered in blood?

You clear your throat to focus back at the task at hand, examining the current wounds. "Okay. The good news is that the one on your arm is through and through, but these two," Your hand hovers over the two on his right upper chest. "I've got to extract the bullets. Which means that this is going to hurt."

"Been through worse sweetheart."

Your eyes scan the rest of his scarred muscular chest thoughtfully. "Yeah, you have." You murmur it more to yourself than to Russell, but he still grins.

Colter's phone rings shrilly in the kitchen and he groans. "One second. Try not to make her want to kill you Rus."

"No promises little bro."

Oh, so this is Colter's brother.

You'd heard little bits and pieces about Colter's brother, mostly second hand from your Aunt Velma. One of the best things about going over to Teddi and her home was sitting in the living room and hearing Velma gossip about everything she heard from Teddi while drinking wine and eating fancy cheese that you could never afford.

Russell Shaw was no exception.

"Alone at last." Russell says with a wink. "I didn't think he'd ever leave."

"I'm going to get some water to clean these with." You reply, ignoring him, but when you turn away the end of your mouth quirks up into a smile.

He wasn't what you were expecting based on all the rumors that you'd heard from both of your aunts, in fact, you thought he was kind of charming.

You roll up your sleeves and wash your hands before turning back to Russell. He's sitting up on your kitchen table, hands braced on his sides, with his legs spread wide apart. He doesn’t look like someone with three gunshot wounds, and you wonder if this is a regular day for him. Colter certainly didn't get shot that much.

"So are you a rewardist too?" You ask standing between his legs and trying not to focus on the warmth of his breath against your collar bone.

"Naw. I work for a private security contractor." He breezes.

"Oh." You swallow, looking up into his green eyes for a minute. They're even more beautiful up close, green with flecks of gold around the iris that flicker in the light like stars. "Is it okay if I touch you?"

"You don't gotta ask me that sweetheart, the answer will always be yes."

You flush and brace your hand on his left shoulder, before pouring water into the two wounds on the right side of his chest, trying to clean them the best you can before you extract what's left of the bullets. His skin is warm and smooth beneath the palm of your hand and it's difficult to focus.

Just pretend you're in the hospital and you're treating a patient. You take in a shallow breath. He's just a patient and he's not that good looking.

You know you're lying to yourself, but you were trying your best. It probably didn’t help given the current dry spell you were in or the fact that he even smelled good. Something like gunpowder, leather, and a hint of something spicy that you bet was his shampoo. It prickled under your nose, and activated something in the back of your mind that was having a hard time being quiet. You hadn't been this close to a man you found attractive in a long time.

"Okay. This is going to hurt." You say as you look through the small medical kit that you'd grabbed from the hall closet for the tweezers, trying to calm the thudding of your heart.

"It's okay." Russell replies. "Do what you have to baby. I won't stop you."

You weren't prepared for the warmth that bloomed in the pit of your stomach when he called you baby in the wonderfully rough rumble of his voice.

A voice like that could convince me to jump into a pit filled with alligators with no regrets. Fuck. I'd bet that a voice like that could make me- FOCUS. I will focus. He is Colter's brother and he just got shot. He doesn't need you lusting over him.

Extracting the bullets is as painful for you as it is for him. Watching the way his face scrunches up in pain hurts you more than you thought it would. His hands grip the rim of the wooden kitchen table so hard that they're turning white, and Russell's jaw is clenched so tight that you're afraid that it's going to snap.

You squeeze his left shoulder to give him some comfort. "Almost done." You murmur, searching for the second bullet.

Russell lets out a breath when you finally fish out the other bullet and drop it into an empty cup with a resounding "ping" just as Colter walks back into the room looking worried.

"What?" Russell asks him, looking over your head at his brother.

"That was Bobby. He said that the trace we put on the phone just got a hit a few miles north of here." Colter states. "I'm gonna go check it out."

"Alright, I'll come with." Russell starts to get up, but you push him back with your right hand that you've still got pressed against his left shoulder. Difficult given the fact that he was almost twice the size of you and broader than anyone you'd ever seen. And also difficult because of the way you were trying to ignore how good it felt to feel the pull of his muscles beneath your hand.

"No. You still need stitches and I haven't finished patching you up." You clear your throat, but it still sounds a little hoarse.

"Baby as much as I like you ordering me around-“

"It's alright Russell, I've got this. Just stay here and let her take care of you." Colter interrupts.

Russell frowns at his younger brother. "I'm fine."

"You're not." Colter rolls his eyes. "Stay here. I'll be back in a few hours to pick you up." He turns to look at you. "I'm sorry that we woke you up-"

"It's okay." You shrug. "But you owe me."

"Just add it to my bill." Colter smirks.

Honestly, you weren't as angry as you were when you answered the phone. Something about Russell was different and you didn’t mind helping him at all.

He wasn't like anyone that you had ever met, certainly not in the circles you ran with.

All the dads from your mom friends were blue and white collar workers who worked in the big office buildings downtown, wore suits to work and were more straight-laced, but there was something refreshing about Russell.

He was mysterious, sexy, and his had this aura of self-resilience and survival that you found immensely attractive. Especially when compared to your ex, who couldn't survive without his mocha-caramel double shot latte or wifi.

Russell was the exact opposite of him and you found yourself wanting to know more. More about the almost beautiful scars that curved over his muscular body, more about each tattoo that he’d chosen, and more about him.

He seemed like the kind of guy that hid his trauma under easy smiles and jokes, the kind of person that shrugged off anything that seemed remotely serious with a well placed joke, but you could feel that there was something deeper beneath that he didn’t allow many to see.

And you wanted him to show you.

You weren't sure where any of this was coming from. Russell probably was about as stable and consistent as his brother, and you liked consistency. Spontaneity and surprises tended to make you anxious. But not with Russell.

Though the stability might have been an issue. You were a single working mother, which meant that you didn't want to introduce some random guy into your children's life just to have them get attached and him to bail with no strings attached and-

Calm down. You just met the guy, it's not like he's asking you out on a date.

When Colter leaves and after you’ve cleaned around the wounds the best you can with some alcohol, you realize just how quiet it is in your kitchen.

“You know, I think I’ve seen you before.” Russell says breaking the silence while you search for a needle and thread in the medical kit.

“Really? Where?" You ask looking up.

“In my dreams.”

“Wow." You smile at him. "That line is pretty cheesy."

You shift your right hand over to begin to sew up the wounds on his chest. Russell doesn't even wince when you push the needle through, almost as if he didn't notice it at all.

It made sense, given how many scars and tattoos covered his body. You remember what he said about "being through worse" and it made you feel bad for him, to worry about him. Odd given the fact that the two of you had just met.

"Well I'm a little distracted at the moment sweetheart. It's not often that I get such a beautiful woman to take care of me."

"I thought you didn't need my help?" You smirk.

"Maybe I did." He admits sheepishly.

"Mhmm."

"So how do you know my brother?"

“Why?”

“Trying to see if you’re off limits or not.” Russell tilts his head to the side and flashes a charming smile.

You laugh at his boldness. You’d never met someone so upfront before, it was refreshing. Most of the men you’d meet occasionally at work tended to beat around the bush and made you want to give them a map to get to the point. "We met when he got shot a few months ago."

"Oh so the two of you aren't-" He wiggles his eyebrows and you snort.

"No."

"Huh."

"What?"

"I was just wondering why not?"

"What?"

"Well, you're gorgeous, you're smart, and you're not scared of blood or gunshots. Colter really seems to be dropping the ball."

"Colter doesn't exactly have a stable lifestyle. And I'm kind of complicated."

You were, there wasn't any way around it.

"Why do you think that?"

"Because I've got two kids."

Russell blinks in surprise. "Really?"

"Mhmm." You hum continuing your task, not phased by the blood at all.

His eyes trace your figure for a minute, making a shiver travel down your spine. It was the first time in a long time that you were okay with someone looking at you like that and to be honest, the first time that you wanted someone to look at you like that in a while.

After everything that happened with your ex-husband and his secretary you were more inclined to sit on your couch with a glass of wine and read away your troubles with a steamy romance novel that did more for you than any of your ex-husband's attempts to satisfy you. It also didn't help that you had no interest in going out with your few friends and meeting someone at a club who probably would never call you again and probably wouldn't be as enthusiastic to learn that you were a mom.

You'd only been on one date since you'd broken it off with your husband with your aunts accountant Jerry, and the date stuttered to a halt when he learned you had two children and weren't interested in having an open relationship.

"I wouldn't have guessed that."

“Really? The mountain of chocolate cupcakes wasn’t a clue?” You arch an eyebrow with a smirk, while gently tying off the string to close the first wound before moving on to the second.

“I thought you just really liked baking. And I’m okay with coming home every night to a mountain of chocolate cupcakes if it means you’re there too.” He winks.

“Not sure you want any of those.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because they’re gluten free, sugar free, and nut free.”

The horrified look on Russell’s face makes you feel like you’d just told him that hot dogs do in fact contain trace amounts of dog.

“Why on earth would you make them like that?! They're not even cupcakes anymore!" He exclaims.

You found it funny that he seemed more upset over the mutilation of the chocolate cupcakes than over being shot.

Maybe he's always like this?

"I know. I'm a monster." You sigh. "But Stephanie Jacobson said I had to." You let out a frustrated sigh with her name.

Bringing anything other than what she asked for was a suicide mission. The last person who did that was Gale Smith in the great Fourth of July Cook-out calamity of 2021. In Gale's defense, no one though that the bushes would catch fire so fast, but Stephanie had a memory like an elephant so Gale decided to transfer her children to the school one town over. The last thing you wanted was for your name to go down in history for the Cupcake Catastrophe of 2024.

Russell leans forward and lowers his voice like it's a secret. “Is Stephanie your imaginary friend?”

“No!” You laugh. “She’s this other mom at my son’s school who said I wasn’t living up to my ‘duties as a parent’ and that I needed to ‘participate.’”

"She sounds great."

"Oh yeah, we're practically best friends." You continue to work on the other wounds in the silence that follows.

"I bet you're a good mom." Russell says watching you with an unreadable expression. He's leaning a little bit towards you still, making the smell gunmetal, leather, spice, and just a hint of mint come through the space between the two of you.

Damn he smells really good.

"Uh-huh. You've known me for ten minutes and you haven't seen me with my children-"

"I can tell."

"Is that your superpower or something?" You reach for a bandage to lay over the wound in his chest smiling to yourself. "All the other useful superpowers like being bulletproof got taken?"

"I don't think it's useless if it makes you smile like that when I say it, sweetheart."

Your eyes flick upwards to Russell's face. His green eyes are shining in the light of your kitchen, his dark hair still hanging over his forehead, and he is still just as ridiculously handsome as he was the moment Colter dragged him through your front door. You don’t remember why you were so mad at Colter anymore.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're too smooth for your own good?" You raise your eyebrow.

"No ma'am." Russell cracks an even wider smile and it makes you loose all feeling in your legs. He was just so effortlessly handsome that it made you want to do something stupid, like have sex with him on top of the same kitchen table that you serve blueberry pancakes to your children.

"Hmm." You bite the inside of your cheek. "Well, now you know and maybe now that you're aware, it could prevent you from getting shot."

"Are you saying I got shot because I'm too smooth?"

"Maybe."

"Because usually it has a different effect."

"Huh. Well in that case, maybe try using some of that to smooth things over and you'd avoid getting shot." You begin to wrap another fresh bandage around the bullet wound on his arm, bracing your free hand against his chest, trying to ignore the way his skin is warm and chiseled beneath your palm.

He had the kind of body that you'd never imagined actually existed. Russell Shaw looked like he walked out one of the romance novels you loved so much.

Hell, they should use pictures of him to make the book covers.

"I'll remember that next time." Russell pauses. "But then it means I wouldn’t get shot and I wouldn't get to have you patch me up."

"I guess not."

You didn't think that you'd smiled as much as you had in the past twenty minutes with him than you had your entire five year marriage. Not to mention that it was nice to talk to someone who wasn't trying to convince you why they should be allowed to have a cookie before dinner.

A charged silence passes through the air between the two of you, his eyes locked on yours sending goosebumps over your skin. You weren't sure if anyone had ever looked at you like that before. You'd noticed that most gave you the obligatory skate over, but Russell didn't. He looked at you as if he was studying you as if he were genuinely curious to know more. 

Your eyes trace his broad shoulders, toned abdomen, and muscular arms, noting that he's the kind of strong and broad that was made to handle someone a little more curvy like you. And you'd be lying if you said that you hadn't thought about it more than once since Russell came through your front door.

You felt your mind sink into the fantasy of Russell pining you to the kitchen table and feeling the warmth of his rough hands against your body-

Snap out of it. The guy is bleeding, he got shot. He needs to rest.

"I think you'll survive." You smile pulling back from him to clear your head. It was much easier when you couldn't smell him as strongly. "And if Colter isn't going to be back for a few hours you can crash on the couch. It's not the most comfortable but-"

"I'm sure it's fine." Russell shrugs and stands from your kitchen table.

You try and fail to ignore how his muscles pull with the movement as he reaches for his shirt and you step forward to help him put it on, knowing that it might hurt with his injury. "Okay." You clear your throat, that has become thick all of a sudden. "And if you're hungry I've got plenty of cupcakes-"

"Please don't call them that. They're an disgrace to the cupcake name."

"Yeah, but the ones in the microwave are actually cupcakes. I had to make a few that were edible." You gesture with your hand and laugh at how quickly Russell goes to get one.

He doesn’t even bother to pull away the wrapping before he takes a bite and he audibly moans. Russell looks at you awestruck. "Holy shit, you made this? Where have you been all my life?"

"Shut up." You roll your eyes at him.

"I'm serious, this cupcake is my reason to keep living. Here I thought putting sriracha on French fries was the height of cuisine, but damn."

You could feel yourself blush bright red at his compliment. You weren't used to a man going out of his way to compliment you on something other than how you looked, but everything about Russell Shaw was refreshing and nothing like you expected.

"Thank you." You wait another second, watching him eat more of the cupcake and smash icing and flecks of chocolate over his chin. You laugh at him and hand him a paper towel. "You're worse than my three year old."

"Your three year old is a lucky kid, if she’s got a mom like you to make stuff like this for her."

It's like he wants me to fall in love with him. How can someone look so unbelievably cute and sexy while covered in chocolate cupcake?

Don't answer that.

"Sometimes I think I'm the lucky one. I love my kids-" You say before you can stop yourself. You hesitate afraid that it would send Russell for the hills when you brought up the fact that you loved your children.

"Yeah?" Russell's smile brightens as he wipes his face with the napkin.

"Yeah." You blink mildly shocked. Of all the people in the world to talk about your children with, you never expected someone like Russell Shaw. “I do."

Again he was surprising you, and talking to him was just so refreshing and it made you feel like your head had finally cleared, like your chest was lighter and you could actually talk to someone for real without putting out this together image of yourself you thought you had to when inside you were crumbling from the overbearing expectations of the people around you.

The silence is back, filling the kitchen with a palpable energy that you wonder if Russell can feel, but you shake it off.

"I guess I'll see you in the morning. It was nice to meet you Russell, but I'm sorry that you got shot." You smile.

"I'm not." Russell smiles. "I got to meet you."

"Alright Casanova, I need to go to bed, because my kids will wake me up in about two hours." You frown over at the couch. "There's a pillow and a blanket down the hall in the bathroom closet." You gesture with one hand. "I'll see you in the morning." You repeat because you're not too sure what to say.

"Yeah. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

You turn and walk up the stairs to your bedroom, feeling the thin blue robe swishing around your ankles as you do.

And as you fall into your bed all you can think about as you start to drift is the ruggedly handsome man downstairs, with the brilliant green eyes that crinkle with his smile, and the large hands rough from hard work, that seems to be more than what meets the eye.

The alarm clock on your bedside table might as well be employed by the devil for waking you up and the idea of smashing it to bits with the heavy metal table lamp that sits beside it crosses your mind. You weren't sure how many hours you'd gotten in, only that they weren't enough, and you were in desperate need of coffee.

You roll over on your back, looking up at your ceiling as you blink your eyes open, following the familiar sweeps of the paint brush that were left behind.

The memory of the night's events come back in full color and you stiffen remembering exactly why you'd gone to bed so late. Images of last night flash through your mind. Colter dragging a bloodied Russell through your front door, Russell sitting on your kitchen table looking much too attractive covered in blood, him flirting with you with a wide smile that made you feel warm from the inside out…

Oh fuck he's still on my couch. How am I going to explain that to my kids?

You dress in a flash and stumble down the stairs as quickly as you can, tripping and falling into the living room, but when you look you realize that Russell isn't on the couch. The pillow and brightly colored quilted blanket he used are neatly folded on one of the plush cushions, but he's nowhere to be found.

I guess Colter came to get him.

You weren't expecting the wave of disappointment that comes with that realization, but as you turn to go back up the stairs to ready yourself for the day, you hear your daughter’s voice.

"Mommy!" She says. "Look! Rus is making pancakes."

What?

You turn to investigate your spacious kitchen. It was still covered in an alarming amount of cupcakes, but that’s not what’s surprising, what’s surprising is Russell, standing at your crowded stove with a spatula in his hand, sliding a perfectly golden brown pancake around in the bottom of a pan.

You blink your eyes to make sure that you’re not imagining it and make sure that you’re not asleep.

"Hey gorgeous." Russell flashes a wide grin. "How'd you sleep?"

"Um-" You glance at where your daughter is sitting with your son, both eating stacks of pancakes at your kitchen table, the same kitchen table that you were fantasizing about Russell and you-

Nope. Not going there.

Honestly, any fantasy you had about him was blown away by the sight of him standing in your kitchen making pancakes for your children. Something so domestically wonderful that turned you on even more than the image of him shirtless sitting on your kitchen table.

This was something even your husband refused to do, cook. Any day that you tried to get him to, he'd said that it was your "job." And here Russell was standing in your kitchen looking even more effortlessly gorgeous cooking for your family without being asked.

"I sleep good. How did you sleep?" You ask taking a hesitant step towards him.

"Good. Better than I have in a bit actually." He turns back to the pan and flicks his wrist, flipping the pancake inside.

Emma claps happily and Luke watches Russell with a look of absolute awe on his face, while you try not to have impure thoughts about Russell in front of your children.

"You didn't have to make breakfast-"

"I did." He plates the pancake and holds it out to you. "I wanted to thank you for patching me up."

"It wasn't a big deal." You shrug, but take the pancake from the plate, rolling it up like a taco before you take a bite.

Russell cocks his head to the side studying you for a moment. "It was to me." His green eyes are just as hypnotic today as they were last night, tracing over your body in a way that makes pins and needles tickle over your skin. "Plus, wanted to make the kids something that wasn't gluten free, nut free, and sugar free. Emma sure can put away some pancakes."

It was odd to see someone so eager to make himself comfortable in your house, especially a man you barely knew and who you owed absolutely nothing to. Not to mention that Russell genuinely seemed happy to be making breakfast for your children as if he belonged there.

It was so different from every other man that you'd ever met, and you wanted to get used to it. You wanted to get used to having a man around again, to having Russell in your home and in your life. You'd never been spontaneous or wanted to jump headfirst without looking at the pros and cons, but watching Russell standing at your stove, with the sunlight coming through the windows behind him and illuminating his broad shoulders and sifting through his dark hair, you saw absolutely no downside.

"Yeah she's always had a good appetite."

"Hope she doesn't lose that. I hate it when women don't eat." Russell shrugs his shoulders and goes back to make a pancake for himself. "Plus Luke needs to bulk up. He said his dad is going to sign him up for baseball."

You stiffen at the mention of your ex, not sure if you should supply the information, or if you should let it slide. Russell's eyes flick down at your left hand for a half-second, so quickly you could have missed it, but you understood what he was doing.

"He's my ex-husband." You murmur low enough so only Russell could hear.

"Good." Russell replies with a knowing smirk. "Means that I don’t have any competition."

You roll your eyes at his reaction and walk over to where your children are eating. Luke is covered in maple syrup as per usual. He had always been a messy eater, but because he insisted on having his hair cropped short, it never seemed to be too much of a problem.

Just as Emma looks like your ex-husband, Lance, Luke looks like you. He has the same eyes and same colored hair, but he'd always been a little short for his age. Lance usually picked at him for that, but you didn't know what Lance was expecting, Luke was six years old, he'd grow!

"Good pancakes?" You ask, trying to wipe at his face with a napkin but he pulls away with an exclaimed "Mom!"

"What? You're covered in syrup." You laugh, raising the napkin again, but Luke dodges your hand.

"Mom!" Luke says again.

"Alright, fine. But go get dressed, your dad will be here to pick you up any minute." You say, urging him with a hand against his shoulder.

Today Lance was taking Luke to school and picking him up after for a baseball game, before staying with him at his apartment. You’d told your Aunt Teddi and your Aunt Velma that you'd help them plant a garden today, and Emma had been looking forward to it as much as you had.

Velma had been talking about it all through last week, and you’d gotten the day off specifically off for it. Emma was also excited about it because Teddi had bought flowers specifically for butterflies and your daughter loved them more than life itself.

You were looking forward to working out in the sun, feeling the healing rays against your skin, listening to the sounds of the world outside your aunts familiar home soothe you, play with the dogs for a little bit, and finally go inside for a few glasses of wine while Velma, Teddi, and you talked about the book of the month. Book club nights were especially special for Emma as well. Velma always poured Emma's apple juice into a plastic pink wine glass that she'd bought for Emma so she could feel included.

This book had been really good and you couldn't wait to share what you'd thought while eating expensive cheese and cupcakes and while the dogs circled below like raptors.

You loved being at their home. It was always such a comfort to be somewhere where you felt that you could be yourself especially after Lance left you. Your mother had died when you were a kid and your dad had never been equipped to handle things like that so your Aunt Teddi had picked up the slack in your early years and now after she'd married Velma, you had another person in your life who supported you and made you feel like you could be yourself. Both of them had been furious when they learned about what Lance had done and sat with you while you cried into a box of tissues.

It had been difficult to talk them both out of killing Lance. Surprising since your Aunt Teddi was usually the voice of reason.

Luke sighs, but listens to you, getting up from the table to make his way upstairs. You can hear his footsteps as he walks down the hallway above and into his room.

Despite his reluctance, he was looking forward to today as well. Sometimes you thought that he felt left out when you all went over to your aunts house. You knew that Luke longed for the attention of his father, and something broke inside of you each time your ex-husband made him feel forgotten.

You turn to look at your daughter. "Good pancakes?"

"Yes!"

"Did you tell Russell thank you?"

"Thank you Rus!" She sing-songs with a wide smile, before moving her plastic fork back into the pile enthusiastically.

"You're welcome sweetheart." Russell says from the stove, picking up the pancake in the skillet bare handed before he puts a generous stripe of maple syrup along the inside and rolls it up just like you did. "Do you want another one?" His gaze turns to you, warm and open.

Fuck, why is he so damn attractive?

"No I'm-"

The knock on the front door interupts your answer signifying the arrival of Lance. When he'd moved out of the house you'd changed all the locks and then refused to give him a key. Something that he'd pouted and stomped about worse than your toddler, but you'd held firm. You didn't want him in your house and you definitely didn't want her in your house either.

"Daddy!" Emma squeals and before you can stop her, she leaps from her chair like she'd been shot from a cannon and runs down the front hallway to open the door for your ex.

You sigh out a breath to prepare yourself for what comes next. Talking to Lance was always tense and as much as you tried to be civil, Lance didn't. He didn't pull punches, and often lacked the common decency that everyone else had.

Russell's studying you again, his easy smile slipping into a frown when he notes the change in your attitude.

"Stay here. This shouldn't take long." You force a smile, but it lacks the enthusiasm you’d had whenever you talked to Russell before.

Sometimes just the thought of your ex took the energy out of you, as if you were on a space ship and all the air got sucked out into the cold silent vacuum.

Lance is standing on the front step hugging your daughter with one hand while the other holds his phone behind her head, his gaze intently on the screen while Emma chatters in his ear. He's not paying attention though. He never was and never did.

His black hair is slicked back over his head and cropped shorter than the last time you saw him. Now it barely touches his collar but hangs long over the top of his head. His brown eyes glint an amber in the light of the sun, and he’s wearing a tailored blue suit with a dark patterned tie.

“Hey.” Lance clips to you as he stands, releasing Emma who is still trying to talk to him, but he ignores her.

You grind your teeth together. “Hi.”

He sighs audibly sensing the tension, as if it’s you that’s done something wrong.

“Emma, why don’t you go finish your pancakes?” You smile down at your daughter and pat her on the head. “We’ve got to go soon.”

“Okay! Bye daddy!”

“That’s nice honey.” He says absentmindedly, still typing furiously on his phone, while Emma rushes back down the hallway and into the kitchen, that is hidden from view of the front door.

“You know you could put the phone down for once. The world won’t implode if you wait a few seconds to answer a text.” You say.

“Don’t start.” Lance rolls his eyes.

The BMW idling at the curb catches in the early morning sunlight and you see a flash of red-hair. Crystal is in the passenger seat, her auburn hair piled on top of her head effortlessly, her lips painted a dark colored red, there’s a pair of heart shaped sunglasses over her eyes, and she’s wearing black dress low cut enough that her ample breasts spill out through the wide V.

She peers at you from where she sits in the car, her phone perched in her lap, and you watch her dark colored lips twitch into a knowing smirk when she catches you looking at her.

Each time you saw her was like taking a punch to the gut.  It made you pull your oversized sweater a little tighter over your chest self-consciously.

“I’m not starting anything. I’m just saying that you should pay more attention to-“ You begin, but Lance interrupts.

“I don’t want to do this with you. I have a deposition due today and I have to finish sending this email.” He snaps.

“Fine.” You sigh, trying to remain calm. You hated when he did this, when he made it seem like no one and nothing else was important except his job. “Luke is getting ready. I have to box up these cupcakes for a bake sale at the school. All you have to do is drop them off and tell-“

“Oh sorry babe. Can’t do the thing today.”

You bristled when he called you babe. You weren't his, not after everything the two of you had been through.

“What do you mean you can’t do the ‘thing’ today?” You plant your hands on your hips trying to comprehend what he's saying.

“With the kid. Sorry. Crystal made plans for us at some fancy restaurant or whatever. Supposed to be the best in the city-“

“What?”

“I can’t take the kid today.” He repeats slowly, this time looking up, but he doesn’t bother to apologize, and his gaze barely meets yours before he drops his eyes back to the hand clutched in his perfectly manicured fingers.

“But you promised Luke that you were going to take him to a baseball game today after school. That he was going to get to spend the night with you and-“

“Sorry.” The apology isn’t sincere and you know it, despite Lance’s attempts to drop his smile into a sympathetic frown. It comes across as more condescending.

Crystal honks the horn of the car as if to tell Lance to hurry up, and it takes a very large amount of effort for you not to flip her the bird.

“No. Luke has been looking forward to this all week! Not to mention I had to ask off for today specifically-“

“And I’ll apologize to him too.” Lance goes back to typing something on his phone. “This dinner means a lot to Crystal-“

“I don’t give two shits what means a lot to that red-haired bimbo!” You snap, the rage and frustration building in your chest. “You made a promise to your son to take him to a baseball game and actually spend time with him and that’s exactly what you’re going to do!”

Lance looks up from his phone, his eyes narrowing. “You always fucking do this.”

“Do what?”

“Pick a fight.”

“I am not picking a fight Lance. All you’ve done since you’ve shown up here is ignore your daughter and tell me that you’re backing out of the one thing I’ve asked you to do in months!”

“I told you that I have a meeting and a deposition due today! Damn it, what do you want from me? To quit my big job that pays for this house?” He steps forward towering over you. Lance was taller than you, but he had always been lanky and thin, unable to gain too much weight or muscle at a time. “Why do you find the need to make me feel like my life isn’t important?”

“What are you talking about? I didn’t say anything about your life! I’m talking about our son’s life-“ You shout incredulous.

“This is exactly why I got out when I did. Because you always try to control every little thing. You’re so damn OCD that if I did one microscopic thing that wasn’t apart of your ‘special plans’ you’d spontaneously combust! You never just shut your big mouth and let me just fucking live my life! You never let me feel like a man! And Crystal understands-“

“Crystal can’t even understand that pickles were once cucumbers! I doubt she can understand whatever warped reality you’re living in Lance.” You spit. “But I’m sorry that me asking you to be a part of our children’s lives is too much for you. That it’s such a chore for you to make them happy.” The frustrated tears had begun to burn against your eyes.

You didn’t know why you expected anything different. Lance had been doing this since your son was born, putting his career above everything else, working late, schmoozing whoever he could, being so damn selfish that he was willing to throw everything the two of you built together for the woman sitting in the car on the curb watching the two of you go at it with a sick satisfaction.

“Don’t fucking do that!” Lance roars and this time he slams his hand against the door frame so roughly that the glass inside shakes and you flinch. “I don’t know why I even try to talk to you. So why don’t you get your big ass up those stairs and-“

“Is there a problem?” Russell’s voice interrupts whatever Lance was going to say, his body sliding into the space behind you so suddenly that you didn’t hear him walk up.

But it felt good for him to be there, to feel the warmth of his body through the air at your back.

He places his hand on the door to open it up a little wider and to seem a bit more intimidating. Russell is easily taller and broader than Lance.

Lance looks up at him confused, puffing out his chest to look more intimidating. “Who the fuck are you?”

 “Maybe you shouldn’t use that kind of language around the kids-“ Russell says with a tight lipped smile.

“They’re my fucking kids. Don’t tell me how to talk.” Lance’s gaze flicks to you. “Who the fuck is this?”

“I’m Russell.” He replies before you can. “And if you know what’s good for you I’d take a few steps back from her.” Russell’s large hand gently presses against your waist, a comforting weight that you weren’t expecting, but welcome, nonetheless.

It made you feel a little bit bolder.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Lance snarls. “Is this your boyfriend? Really? You finally decided to go out with someone and that’s who you pick?”

“Look buddy, if you keep talking to her that way, we’re going to have a problem.” Russell sighs. “And I don’t want to get any blood on your fancy suit.”

“I’m not your buddy. And trust me she’s not worth the fight.” Lance sneers at you, giving you a once over that makes you want to crawl into a hole and die.

Russell’s jaw clenches tight and he takes a step forward, but you hold out your arm to stop him.

“He’s not my boyfriend and even if he was, it’s none of your business who I date!” You snap back.

Lance only shakes his head, ignoring what you’ve said. “I’m serious pal you don’t want to get involved with her. She’s fucking crazy, not to mention nothing special when it comes to se-“

The next words are lost in the sound of Russell’s fist landing against Lance’s face, the sharp crack followed by the inhuman scream of Crystal at the car. Lance stumbles back off the front step clutching a hand to his face while blood streams through his pinched fingers and over his chin.

“I warned you. Now if you keep talking, I'll make your eyes match.” Russell growls, flexing his hand.

I hope he didn’t rip his stitches.

“You son of a bitch.” Lance sputters, his hand still holding his broken nose. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer!”

“It’s worth it, if it shuts you up.” He replies unfazed.

Lance’s eyes narrow with hate as he looks at you one more time, before stumbling back to his car where Crystal has begun to wail over the amount of blood coming from his nose. The car squeals down the street and out of sight, leaving Russell and you standing on your front porch. Thankfully Emma was still in the kitchen eating her pancakes and Luke was upstairs, you didn't want either of them to see Russell punch their dad.

But that didn't mean that you wouldn't mind seeing it again.

You groaned when you thought about your son. You didn’t know how on earth you were going to explain to him why his dad wasn’t going to pick him up or take him to the game.

But at the same time there was a sickening amount of pleasure that bubbled beneath the surface at the thought of Russell breaking Lance’s nose.

“Are you okay?” Russell asks turning to look at you. There’s anger still simmering beneath the surface. You’d never seen him angry in all the time he’d stayed with you. All you’d seen was the funny, easy going, guy with the gorgeous smile, but to see him like this and especially to see him angry over what had just happened…

Just when I thought he couldn’t get any more attractive.

“Yeah. I’m sorry-“

“Don’t apologize for that asshole. He shouldn’t have talked to you like that.” Russell hesitates. “Does he always talk to you like that?”

“Pretty much.”

“Damn, should have knocked a few teeth out too. He’s got to learn how to speak to a lady, especially one as beautiful as you.”

You felt your cheeks flush. You couldn’t remember the last time that someone called you beautiful and before you can stop yourself you say:

“I don’t think you’re too bad looking yourself.”

“Oh I know. You couldn’t keep your hands off me last night.” Russell’s grin makes you smile and roll your eyes at him.

Again you’re struck by how charming he is and how kind. He didn’t have to do any of the things he’d done today, but he did anyway. He didn’t have to make breakfast for your children, he didn’t have to step in when your ex-husband got mouthy, and he didn’t have to punch Lance in the face, but Russell had.

He'd done more for you in the past few hours than your husband had done in the six years you'd been married to him.

Behind where Russell's standing, Colter’s truck pulls up to idle on the curb in the same place that the BMW had been sitting moments ago, and you raise a hand in a half-wave to greet him. Colter shoots you a grin and waves back.

“Guess my ride’s here.” Russell says glancing back at his brother over his shoulder before he looks back at you.

“Seems so.” You nod. “Are you sure you don’t want me to check your stitches for you one more time before you go? I mean you probably ripped them when you punched Lance."

“Sounds like you just want to catch another peak of me without my shirt on.” Russell laughs, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes and hit him on the arm.

“Ow.”

“You’ll survive.”

“Maybe.” He’s studying you again, the sunlight turning his hair a honeyed brown and his eyes into a sharp jade. The light catches his broad shoulders and traces along his strong jaw that is covered in a healthy amount of stubble that makes him look rugged and more handsome than any man you’d ever met.

You bite the inside of your cheek. “It was nice to meet you Russell. And again, I'm sorry that you got shot."

Russell shrugs. “It was worth it. I got to meet you and I got to punch that asshole in the face so win-win.”

“You didn’t have to-“

“Yes, I did.” Russell’s jaw tightens. “You didn’t deserve any of the things he was saying about you or about the kids.”

“True.” You hesitate.

Should I ask him for his number or is that too forward?

“I’ll see you around.” Russell smiles at you one more time before making his way to his brother’s car, just as Emma joins you on the front step.

“Did daddy leave?” She sounds sad.

“Yeah. He did.” You take her small hand in yours.

“But why does Russell have to go too?” She whines.

“Because he’s going home.”

You felt a twinge in your chest watching him get into the car, knowing that you probably would never see him ever again. It made you sad to know that. You'd been interested in him and you thought he was interested in you, but he hadn't asked for your number.

Maybe he's flirty and charming with everyone.

You hide the frown that comes with that thought. Emma waves goodbye with her freehand, and Russell smiles from the passenger seat, waving back at your daughter, before he raises his gaze to yours again and winks.

Or maybe not.

When you go back inside the house, Luke is still upstairs, and instead of going up to tell him about his father, you turn to go back into your kitchen to clean up. As you near the stove, you notice a bright green piece of paper under one of the magnets on your refrigerator, fluttering slightly in the air-conditioning.

You pull it down to look.

In case you want some more pancakes or if you bake any more of those life changing cupcakes. Give me a call. -Russell.

His phone number was written under his name, next to a smiley face that made you laugh aloud to yourself.

Sunday nights were the worst, but not this time.

A/N: Alright, I had so much fun with this one! I just had this urge to write Russell with a reader who had children and a trash man ex because why not? And I know I said it would be a one-shot… but my mind is already thinking of all the possibilities lol. Mostly because we all know I can’t really write just a one-shot 😅😂

As always thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, Likes, and Comments are not required but are always appreciated. I love hearing what y’all think!

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @livya99 @mrsjenniferwinchester

[loupy-mongoose]

Hoodie upgrade! :D

[diggersofgraves]

.

[dravidious]

You're more amazing than flooding

Big fat combat trick to pump all your excess mana into!

Cards used as example for balancing the modes:

[arolesbianism]

Having a rain world oc moment. Dysfunctional family of the year award, they were so toxic that one of them found a way to kill themselves in a world where that was supposed to be physically impossible

[theglamorousferal]

Just found out about the Enough Stuff Non-Profit in Illinois and it got me thinking about Crime Alley and about if there was a place like that, they’d work hard to keep it going.

Now I’m imagining Danny, ghost king with its coffers, things at relative peace, but not having to actively work. He’d want to still be able to give back I think even if it’s not actively fighting. What if Danny started an Enough Stuff shop. Everything there is free. Everything is donated. It runs on donations. (The first few months it runs on his savings; ghost money translates thankfully).

Danny lives in the apartment above the store and the store has two floors. Sam moves in next door and runs an apothecary and plant store. She ends up running a vegan bakery and coffee shop too. If you perform or write a poem, you get a free coffee and scone. If she has the chance, she’ll teach you about basic herbal remedies and also some basic first aid because while honey is an antibiotic, it doesn’t do shit for something needing stitches. Jazz moves in and opens a free pediatric clinic. Tucker can be found running the business side of the non-profits and pushing Sam to “just get an EMT certification already, you’re more than qualified, and you know you want to.” Val travels a lot, she’s an Olympic martial artist, but when she settles someplace to train it’s usually with the trio in their Frankenstein apartment made up of the top two floors of three connected buildings. Between Danny finding he enjoyed training from his years as a hero and Sam wanting to always be in top form there’s a gym there she can train in and Danny’s usually free. She helps with whoever needs it when she has free time so she doesn’t feel like a mooch for living there only part-time. She ends up saving some kid from a thug and deciding to train him up. This leads to the kid bringing more kids to learn from her. She ends up buying a building on the block and renovating it to be a gym and training facility for her and it gets added to the list of non-profits Tucker is running. (He only leaves his corner office, he insisted, during working hours for lunch or meetings and the occasional lunch meeting).

Tim losing his mind trying to find anything about them. Him constantly hitting firewalls of binary, Egyptian hieroglyphics, Esperanto and some other language he could only describe as auditory Zalgo text. Tim desperately wanting to investigate in person but he promised Jason he’d stay out of it until he asked.

Jason coming back from a long mission with the Outlaws seeing the “cute little trust fund kid’s experiment” not only flourishing, but growing. He goes to research them only to find they’re mostly squeaky clean. There’s some stuff about disturbance of the peace and minor property damage when a teenager, but that doesn’t mean anything for someone setting up in Crime Alley. He watches them for a while, listened to what his guys said about them and the general opinion. He decides they’re above board, but he’d still watch them.

Then he got shot. More accurately, a shot grazed just under his armpit where there was a gap in his armor. He ended up stumbling out of an alleyway and directly into the pathway of one red headed doctor.

Kinda want to add more Amity Parker’s at some point. Debating having Paulina run a fashion house in the fashion district because she couldn’t convince her dad to let her move to a place known as Crime Alley, and just spend a bunch of time at Danny’s shop and maybe drop off ‘fits she made there. Star and Wes running a local radio station. Dash becoming a mechanic (after freaking out about not making it in football). Kwan opens a vet clinic. Eventually the Amity Parker’s own a full two blocks of housing and businesses.

[petew21-blog]

Friends with benefits

Two long time friends Trent and Brett. A classic story. Met in kindergarten and have been friends since. Grew up together. Spent their holidays together. Graduated together. But then stopped seeing each other as often. Why? Because adult life ain't easy. Brett had to find a job while Trent got into college, graduated and on top of that became a fitness influencer. Brett started his Twitch account and became a gamer, which he had time for, cause how he was constantly doing a different job, depending on what he could find. But both of them always took some time off for a beer with their buddy.

This is Trent

Although he doesn't appear like that, he is a 24 year old male with young looks

On the other hand Brett is also young, but his looks are a bit more mature. Maybe it's because of all the hair

This is Brett

So hairy.

Normal guys, right? Well something was about to change very soon

Friday, August 2nd, 5 PM

Brett:"Hey, dude. Wanna grab a beer later tonight?"

Trent:"Yeah, sure. I am down. Is 8:30 ok? I gotta finish a video"

Brett:"Oh yeah, totally fine. See you then"

Friday, August 2nd, sports bar, 8:33 PM

At the bar Brett waits patiently, only his leg is slightly shaking. Trent comes in through the door. It's kinda funny, cause Trent used to be really insecure and not confident. Now he looks basically like a god. But still, he has this cute shy looking guy whose face doesnt match his body and the fact that he's 24. Brett was kinds jealous, most of the people that didn't know him always thought he was older because of his looks. Trent had the opposite problem. Always had to show ID whenever he went. Yet Brett was probably more jealous about his life in general. He finished school, took great care of his body, which now could help him hook up with anyone he would set his mind to.

Brett:"Hey, maaaan. How are you doing?"

Trent:"Heyyy. Yeah good. You know, single influencer life, haha"

Brett:"The ladies must be driving you crazy"

Trent:"If only it were just ladies. Haha. You should see the messages some of these gay dudes keep sending me. It's insane"

Brett:"You tell me. They always send random shits to my chats while playing. But it's mostly dumb kids."

Trent:"I think we should find you a date for tonight"

Brett:"Nahhh, fuck it. I'm not in the mood. I just wanna chat with my bro."

After a few beers

Brett:"Shut up, you did not!"

Trent:"I swear. She came on to me without a word."

Brett:"So what did you do?"

Trent:"You think I put up a fight? Haha"

Brett:"Maaaan. I want this stuff to happen to me to. That's so hot"

Trent:"Come with me to the gym then, I bet more chicks woukd be into you if you would gain some muscles"

Brett:"You calling me fat?"

Trent:"No, just saying that all that body hair would be good to match with a good body. You're just a walking gorilla right now"

Brett:"Oh shut up twink! Haha"

They finished their drinks, said their goodbyes and went home.

Brett felt amazing. He really needed to get a beer with his best friend. He came back home, sat behind his computer and searched Dark web. He already knew what he was looking for. He wanted to mess with Trent. Just a another one of his pranks. All he needed was Trent's personal item. He found the body swapping website. He read the rules and conditions and filled out his and Trents name. The only next step he had to follow was to go to sleep. And so he did. Only taking off his shirt in the process and collapsing on the bed. Not even brushing his teeth

Brett woke up feeling better than ever. He was used to have a hangover by now, but today he felt great. He opened his eyes and immediately noticed the different sheets. He looked around. This is Trent's place.

Brett:"Trent?" he said, but he heard Trent's voice.

He turned around to get up

His body. He has a different body

Brett:"Holy shit. It worked" he said amused. He looked down at his now soft chest. He got up

Brett:"Oh wow. getting up is so different when you have these hard muscles"

He went to the nearest mirror. And there he was. Trent in his glory. Brett was so happy right now. His prank worked. He is now inside of his best friends body. And the pranks probably won't stop there. Now he can mess with him all he wants. But not now.

He looked from top to bottom how tall and slim his body was. "Almost no hair anywhere. Lucky guy"

He took Trent's phone and snapped a photo to send it to Trent in his body. He knew it would take a while for Trent to wake up so he proceeded in his exploration.

He felt his curly hair. "How come you don't even have widow's peak? So unfair" He traced his jawline, now with tiny baby hair that Brett wouldn't even call a beard. But his sight was now caught by those nice Calvin Klein's. He looked around as if there was someone in the room with him who would judge him. He pulled on the waistband

Brett:"Just as I thought. Also shaved" he grabbed his new dick, that was getting harder and harder by the second, when suddenly his phone received a notification. he let go of his dick

It was Trent. Brett:"Haha, this is gonna be good"

There was a photo of Brett's body, observing his hairy armpits in shock

Trent in Brett's body:"Hey. Got any idea why I am a gorilla now? And why that gorilla looks exactly like you?"

Brett:"Surpriseee. And fuck you"

Trent:"So this is your doing?"

Brett:"Yeah, I kinda wanted to prank you somehow for all the pranks and the gorilla jokes. Joke's on you ape man"

Trent:"Fuck you. So this is reversible?"

Brett:"Sure, man. No worries. We'll meet tonight at the bar again and chat how our day went?"

Trent:"I don't know how to feel about this, bro"

Brett:"Just try enjoying being another person"

Trent:"Do you realise there are some no go things including intimate stuff and hygiene?"

Brett:"Sure I do. I'm already holding your dick in YOUR hands right now"

Trent:"Dude! Not cool. I meant more stuff like shitting etc. But yeah, this too."

Brett:"I gotta say Trent. You have a very nice dick"

Trent:"I'll comment on your size when I find it in the bushes I guess. Have you never heard of trimming?"

Brett:"Keeping it natural, baby face"

Trent:"Fine, let's see each other tonight at 8, ok?"

Brett:"Enjoyyy" Hangs up

Trent:"Jesus, this guy. I hope he doesn't fuck up something or someone"

Starts observing himself. "I must say, It feels good to look like a mature man and not a teenager. All of this hair. And the moustache is hot too. I could never grow this thing"

Trent looked down and had a mischievous thought. "Well, Brett. Since you have already held my dick, I think it's time to step it up. Gonna see if you can last longer than I do" Trent said with a smile and whipped out his new hard hairy dick

Saturday August the 3rd, bar, 8:04 PM

Brett is sitting amused in the bar, eating chips on the table and drinking beer. Winking at the ladies looking at his direction.

A waitress came by his table:"Want another?"

Brett noticed his old incoming body:"Sure, and another one for my friend who just arrived. Thank you, sweetheart" he said as his flirtatious look almost seduced the local waitress

Trent:"You need to stop!"

Brett:"What? I was just flirting"

Trent:"Not that. Stop eating those chips. God knows how many calories you ate already"

Brett:"So you don't mind that I was flirting with her?"

Trent:"Nah, I don't care. I jerked off your dick for like the fifth time half an hour ago"

Brett:"What? You beast. I would have never expected that. Cool. You have a really good dick to jerk off too. I didn't expect to shoot so far tho. Made a bit of a mess"

A couple off bikers started eavesdropping to their conversation and turning heads

Trent:"You might want to quiet down, or we're gonna get beaten up for mistakenly speaking like gay guys"

Brett:"But you gotta admit that my body is not so bad, right? All the hair and everything. You like it"

Trent:"It's not bad, but I prefer being in my own body. I'm used to it."

Brett:"Ok, I'll pretend I didn't hear the part before about masturbation. But what do you say? We didn't even have enough time to see what the life is like in our new bodies. It's only been a day"

Trent:"And your point is?"

Brett:"Let's stay swapped for a while. We can swap back anytime we want. It's reversible. We know almost everything about each other, so pretending to be the other one will be easy. You'll just teach me your workout routine, I'll show you... what games to play and how to set up a livestream and we'll figure it out"

Trent:"Livestream? That's all you got?"

Brett:"Come on, man. We got nothing to loose"

Trent:"I don't know man. It's gonna be complicated. I agreed to leave for a few weeks to work at one of our gym branches in another city. And now you'll be the one that has to go. I think now is not the best time"

Brett:"So? I can update you about everything. We can chat all the time. We can call. And I got nothing to do. Actually, you might need to find some job for those few weeks. And there's never gonna be a better time then now. We're single, ready to mingle. So let's enjoy that month"

Trent:"You wanna stay swapped the whole tíme I'm gone?"

Brett:"Yeah, I'll be a fitness instructor/viral star and you'll ne enjoying my chill life"

Trent:"Chill life. Man, you won't even recognise your life when we'll swap back"

Brett:"So you agree?"

Trent:"Yeah, what the hell. I'll be a gorilla for a month"

Brett:"Deal. Now, let's see if you'll have a better game in finding a hookup then me"

Sunday, August 4th

Brett sends a text to Trent:"Why do I feel like my body still hasn't gone through puberty?"

Trent:"Piss off. Yours looks like it went trough yours several times."

Brett:"Nah, gotta be honest. I'm really enjoying this lean figure and hairless body"

Trent:"And my dick..."

Brett:"Haha, yeah and your dick. How are you doing in my body?"

Trent:"Feels pretty weird to be so hairy, but gotta admit it's a nice change. Like... feeling so manly"

Brett:"Yeah, but tip for that hairy stomach. Don't cum on it. It's really irritating to get cum from it"

Trent:"Never had the issue in my body, so yeah. Thanks for the tip"

Brett:"No problem. I had to try it out in yours haha"

Trent:"Doesn't this feel kinda gay to you? All the dick and jerk off talk. Appreciating each other's bodies"

Brett:"Nah. We're exploring, man. Who knows if we ever get that chance. Gotta enjoy it"

Wednesday August 7th

Trent:"How are you settling in?"

Brett:"Yeah. Pretty great. I just jerked off to some porn"

Trent:"Ew. I mean the appartement"

Brett:"Whooops. Sorry. Right. Yeah it's nice. Very clean. Very modern"

Trent:"It's yours only for a month so don't destroy anything there"

Brett:"It's kinda poetic right. New appartement, new body, new job"

Trent:"I don't see anything poetic about me playing games in front of a camera"

Brett;"Dude you have to. My fans are gonna wonder what happened to me"

Trent:"Fine. I'll log in tonight. By the way. Dude your feet smell so much when you work out."

Brett:"Work out? You took my body to the gym?

Trent:"Yeah. I had to show off these bushes somewhere, right?"

Brett:"Ahhh thanks man. Looking good"

Trent:"And I think oke girl was checking you... me out"

Brett:"If you can score than go for it. I'm actually late for a date. Or... how do you call it if you're just gonna have dinner and fuck?"

Trent:"Standard hook up man. Please be safe. Wear a condom. And watch our foe those carbs, man."

Brett:"Sure thing, bye"

Monday, August 12 th

Brett:"Dude do you like ever have to shave your face?"

Trent:"Sure I do. I just don't have to do it so often as you. Btw can I please shave off this moustache?"

Brett:"Absolutely not. You'll learn to love it and appreciate it. Just like I will your baby face"

Saturday, August 17th

Brett:"I have to admit I really love showing off your muscles man. I have been doing it constantly at every occassion. So many people turn their heads to take a peak"

Trent:"Yeah I get it. It helps with the confidence a bit"

Brett:"A bit? I feel like I can beat any fucker whk crosses me"

Trent:"Brett, please don't beat anyone in my body"

Brett:"Just kidding, man. How have you been"

Trent:"Well I tried being consistent with the gym. I think your body is doing pretty well"

Brett:"Daaaamn bro. I look good. You really do take care of my body really well"

Trent:"I was actually thinking I could offer this for money. Swapping with people, doing their routines and then swap back. But that's a talk for another time after we swap back"

Brett:"Yeha, sure. Cool idea. Anyway... how was the streaming?"

Trent:"I don't know, man. I think they are desperste for me to say your catchphrases, but they are so cringe."

Brett:"Nah, you have to do that. That's how you get into Tiktoks and become viral"

Trent:"Honestly. I can't wait to get back to my body and to my life back. So we will swap on September 2nd?

Brett:"Yeah. I suppose. Depends how the work will be etc. Anyway I gotta go man. Talk soon"

Trent to himself:"It feels like he's avoiding me with amswering more and more. Trent rubbed his hairy chest, recalling his sweet soft pecs that he missed.

Thursday, August 22nd

Trent:"Hey, man. How is it going?"

Friday, August 23rd

Trent:"Hey. I just wanna know if you're ok. I just wanna talk about the reversal."

Saturday:"please call me back as soon as possible"

Sunday, August 25th

Brett:"I'm ok"

Trent:"What the hell happened?"

Brett:"Nothing I just felt like I needed a break from phone and that stuff"

Trent:"Brett you didn't answer the phone for 4 days"

Brett:"Ok, I was avoiding you, cause I kinda fucked up and was afraid to tell you"

Trent:'What did you do? Is my body ok?"

Brett:"Yeah your body is unharmed. Nothing that bad. We just had a party in the appartement. Broke the TV and... I had unprotected sex with one girl. She didn't know if she was pregnant or not. So I was waiting. And congrats. You're not gonna be a dad"

Trent:"Brett..."

Brett:"I know. I'm so sorry. Won't happen again. Promise. I just got drunk once and it led to this. I'll be good now"

Trent:"Please, don't do anything anymore. I want to switch back"

Brett:"Nah man. We still gotta week to finish. You said until September 2nd."

Trent:"I didn't know you'd do something like this"

Brett:"Please Trent. I'm begging you. Just that one week"

Trent:"Fine. But don't do anything else!"

Sunday, September 1st

Brett:"Hey. Are you packed yet?"

Trent:"Hey. Not really. I planned on packing tommorow. You can come and help if you got time"

Brett:"Sure. I'll come by"

Monday, September 2nd

Trent arrives to the appartement. Brett is on the couch playing video games

The TV is new and there is a PlayStation on the table

Trent:"You didn't tell me you got back into gaming and that you bought all this."

Brett:"Yeha, I missed it. I thought to myself that you'd like it too. So I bought it. By the way. You should see how the fans dig it"

Trent:"Fans? You're live streaming in my body?"

Brett:"Yeah. The gamers are so into it when I'm flexing in the spare time. I even got a viral Tiktok already!"

Trent:"I think we should swap back, Brett. My life is out of your control now."

Brett:"I'm just using all the goods, man. You don't like my body anymore?"

Trent:"Stop changing the subject. I want to swap back"

Brett:"Ok... but on one condition"

Trent:"You want money?"

Brett;"Nah I want to have sex with my body. I want to have sex with you."

Trent:"You have lost your mind"

Brett:"Oh come on. Admit it, that you thought about it. Who gets the chance to fuck their body? To watch their body in the most animalistic moments from somebody else eyes?" Brett flexes his biceps to let Brett watch

Trent:"Brett..."

Brett stands up and goes towards Trent

Brett:"You know you want to kids thus face. To suck this hard dick" he says holding tightly his hardening bulge

Trent:"I... I do. I want to suck my dick"

Brett:"Atta boy"

They begin making out. The fast movements heading towards the bedroom could be described as chaotic, but for them it was a dance of passion. Brett was ripping his old clothes from his old body was all over his body, kissing his neck. Sucking each part of his skin

The kissed even more

Brett began to be more dominant. He gripped Trent's now receding hairline and pushed him down to suck his dick. Trent was choking. But did his best to swallow most of the shaft he now had. He had his dick in his mouth. He couldn't believe it. He is straight and he is sure of that. But this is absolutely different

Brett took his old body by the neck, choking him. "Say you love being in my body"

Trent:"Brett I can't breathe"

Brett:"Fine, let's do this the hard way"

He turned him around. Trent now on all fours. He knew what was coming, but he wasn't ready

Brett spit in his hand and spread it all over the head od his dick. Ready to penetrate his old hairy hole

Trent:"Brett wait... I... Ahhhhhhhh". Trent screamed in pain

Brett:"Yeah. Sorry about that. I'm just so horny. I love your body, Trent. I love every inch od it. Admit you like mine"

Trent:"Brett, please slow down"

Brett:"Naaah, you'll get used to it in a sex"

Trent:"Please, get lube or something"

Brett spit again to where his dick was penetrating Trent's ass. Brett:"Should do it"

Trent was still in pain, but now a new feeling was making him feel better. The pain was now... pleasant? He wanted to feel more. With every thrust from Brett. He felt like shitting himself and cumming at the same time

Brett:"Admit it. Admit you love being in my body" he sped up. Thrusting painfully.

Trent:"Yeah.... yes..."

Brett:"Louder"

Trent:"I do... I love your body. I love being you"

Brett:"Ahhhh. I'm gonna cum. Turn around. I want to cum on your chest"

Trent turned around. He could feel cum leaking from his dick. And now he saw his old face like he never did before. Brett was so into it. His face was full of lust, rage and mischief.

Brett:"Ahhhh. I'm cumming!"

The cum shot all over Trent. Not only on his chest, but also on his mouth and face

Trent watched in awe what just happened.

Brett:"Whew. That was a ride wasn't it? First gay sex. Am I right?"

Trent:"Brett... I?"

Brett:"Oh sorry. I have to catch my breath. You look so funny with my cum all over you. Haha. By the way. I'm glad you love your new body. You get to keep it"

Trent:"Brett, you said we would swap"

Brett:"Yeah I did. That's true. But after this little 'cum over your face' and 'dick in your ass' we made it permanent"

Trent watched in shock as his old body was still standing on top of him. Breathing rapidly and laughing.

Several months later

Hi my name is Brett. Welcome to my only fans channel. If you got any hairy request, hit me up

Brett in Trent's body:"Well this is just pathetic. Man, I knew you'd crumble. But this just seems you lost your mind"

Trent's massive colleague came next to him:"Hey, bro. What are you looking at?"

Brett:"Just looking how one of my friends threw away their life, kinda sad. But whatever. Their life, not mine"

Friend:"Hey, wanna grab a beer later this evening?"

Brett scanned his friend from top to bottom and smiled:"Sure thing. Be there at eight"

Brett thought about switching it up a little. That body would be amazing. But then he turned around and looked at himself in the mirror. And flexed

Brett:"Nah. I'm Trent. And I'm keeping this body"

A request from messages (another one who waited for a LONG time, sorry guys) for @swappwas

Hope you like it :)

P.S. written late at night on a phone with a very irritating autocorrect, so please excuse the mistakes

[elizabebabe]

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐲𝐨𝐠𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ꕤ 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡: yoga teacher y/n’s student has her thinking unprofessional thoughts.

minors dni!

| “you got so wet so quickly…been a while since someone touched you baby?”

| “damn — spread open for me, on your mat?”

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: use of y/n, pet name, smut with little plot, fingering, f!masturbation, fantasies, horny!y/n, lowk lonely!y/n.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.1k!

𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬: kicking off the remodel with a one-shot !! zabe loves yoga, zabe loves chris, mix em together?

“today we’ll be doing a few more advanced stretches, stretching out your backs, calves and any other tight muscles.” your voice echoed through the studio, your students crisscrossed on their mats awaiting instruction.

you had early morning classes every day of the week but wednesday was particularly your favorite since you got to see a certain student, his name was chris and yes he was handsome but he also cared about your profession or…maybe less about your profession and more about yoga itself.

he wanted you to help him fix his bad back, asking questions, asking for advice, you needed to be professional which is why all your attempts of asking for his number ended in failure.

you turned on your speakers, the usual calm, lyricless music waving through the room, also not forgetting to turn off the lights to give a more relaxed feel you always wanted to share with your students.

“we’re gonna start how we always start, savasana.” you scrambled around the room, stepping between bodies laying atop their personal mats ensuring everyone knew what they were doing.

you took 3-4 minutes to correct anyone making mistakes and marking who could use a bit of help, some days of the week you had kids joining in with their guardian, on wednesdays you have a pretty mixed group of ages so it can be hard to “grade”.

“alright, that’s savasana.” 

“come up to ‘mountain’ pose.” you continue, stepping on your mat to follow along to your own instructions, trying to ignore your eyes telling you to gaze at the brunette man in the front row.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

after an hour of tough stretches, your class huffed and puffed on their way out but one man stayed behind.

“hey.” he nudged at your turned back.

“oh! hi.” the interaction taking you by surprise as you never really interacted, “what can i do for you.” you smiled awkwardly.

“well, with the ‘cobra’ pose.” he hiked his yoga mats strap over his shoulder, “i’m struggling with getting my back that low, it kinda hurts.” he says with a cute, loose smile maybe embarrassed by what he’s saying.

“oh no! if it hurts, find a way to make it more comfortable for you.” you gestured with your hands.

“it shouldn’t hurt, maybe uncomfortable but it shouldn’t hurt—“ the rambling of yours continued.

he snickered which interrupted your words, “thanks.” he gently patted your shoulder before turning towards and out the glass door.

the embarrassment he felt now flipped on you as you wanted to crawl into a hole from the exchange.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

your drive home was silent as you sat overthinking about what played on your mind, ‘he just wanted advice, he doesn’t like you.’

‘why did he touch you then?’

‘it was a pat on the damn shoulder, did you see how fast he got out of there?’

you felt crazy as voices in your head fought over something so small, your key turned into the knob of your apartment door, remembering the exam you promised yourself to study for.

you were in community college, typically only having one class a day left lots of time to work on your yoga studio your parents helped pay for.

you threw your tote and mat to the ground, ignoring the thought to change into some of your loose pajamas and sitting at your small dining table for one.

the first few minutes of studying were fine, even taking off your fitted white jacket as you got in the zone. you were able to focus and concentrate on the work ahead of you but that didn’t stop the little voice in your head nagging about him.

you knew his name was chris or at least that’s what he filled out on the forms you had tucked in a random cabinet—

‘this is crazy.’ you huffed before averting your attention back to your notebook.

…

you scrolled through your phone immediately contradicting yourself by looking for different chris’s throughout social media — ‘doesn't he follow the studio's instagram?’

you scrolled through the following list before finding him, his handsome face adorning his profile picture and only a few photos on his feed, but you loved every second of scrolling through them..

adjusting yourself in your chair every so often at the sight of his beautifully crafted face, you couldn't help your fingers sliding past the waistband of your tight leggings that matched that thrown fitted jacket and quickly underneath your light blue panties that you could only hope chris would see one day.

your fingers quickly found your wet folds slipping through the slick and imagining it was the man from your front row, “you got so wet so quickly…been a while since someone touched you baby?” his voice echoed through your head.

the guilt you felt from thinking about him almost warranted you to stop but when your finger accidentally grazed over your clit you couldn’t stop yourself.

the actions continued, one of your fingers dipping into your soppy hole, another leaving airy touches on your clit.

it wasn’t enough, even with his face and his veiny hands you remember pressing firmly into the mat beneath him you couldn’t hit the right spots you knew those long fingers of his could.

but it didn’t stop you from trying, you pushed deeper into yourself once you slid down the wooden chair you uncomfortably sat in the position of your hips reminding you of when you instructed him through a certain pose even showing him a private demonstration, your fingers curling and grazing that spongy spot you aimed for, you remember that day, silently begging him to make a move, touch you in a any way but he never did.

trying to focus on your fantasy as you pumped into yourself made you wetter, “damn — spread open for me, on your mat?” you imagined him laying you down, taking his time while he undressed you, your drippy hole dripping onto the mat beneath you both.

“you’re gonna have to clean this later.” he says, scissoring his fingers inside you, eliciting a moan from your throat.

“gonna think about me when you do it?” 

“how wet i get you?” he continued.

“chris..” you grunted as your body buzzed and legs shook, you were close and all because you “stumbled” upon his instagram, your fingers picked up speed, vigorous motion ensued on your sensitive bud.

the rope snapping in your stomach halting your movements, your mouth agape and sweat dotting your skin.

a certain ’ding’ brought your attention back to your phone.

an instagram dm, a unexpected “can we talk?” from the man you finished all over your fingers for.

second smut baby !! and it’s about my man..

i hate this :( that’s why it took me so long to post bc i was debating whether it was too lackluster but i wanted to post something while i work on longer things, again thank you for the support on ‘southern belle’ and i love you. 🕰️

🏷️ @fratbrochrisgf @3lizaluvs @lily-strnlo @i-love-ptv @venusjaynie @jetaimevous @lizzysmith110 @firexovni @bagsbyclair0

i hope you’re satisfied with your purchase!

© elizabebabe

[noobsoconfusing]

‘domesticated dawg’.. domestic!hamzah

contains reader insert! and nsfw kinda at the end

- for his whole damn life, everything hamzah wanted was a home

- sure, he had one before, but to be honest, it was just a house. no meaning behind it other than his family living there with him.

- so when he eventually moved out, loneliness began hitting like a truck..

- he found himself alone. constantly trying to fit into everything mandy and martin did, but he understood his friends also wanted privacy

- although hamzah wished he could just live with his friends, everything seemed funner with them. mandy was nice, always sharing martin with him, letting him interrupt their conversations to add comments, making jokes about whatever and they even had a group chat!

- but still, that life was not his, it was martin’s. it was mandy’s. not hamzah’s.

- god, he so craved a relationship as beautiful as his friends. it made him so sad knowing that the only girl he pulled ever was in elementary school :(

- so when you stumbled upon his hectic life, he knew he was NOT letting u go. ever. never ever.

- and mother of god, you were just so so so perfect? how could you? like, for real, he asks himself everyday what the hell did he ever do to deserve such a beautiful human by his side

- as the relationship develops, he finds himself doing stuff he only dreamed about

- he enjoys every single little thing you guys do together, cherishes every moment with you, even when you’re not around he keeps your id picture in his wallet

- makes sure you don’t have to move a finger!!!

- dishes? he does em! the bed? he makes it! clean the cats litterbox? on it!

- sometimes you wake up to the faint smell of something burning, and you’ve gotten used to it by now it’s even comforting .

“sweetheart….” he’d whisper not to disturb your peaceful slumber, however the noisy rattling of the dishes and the blender going off earlier had you already awake.

“hmm?” you murmured slowly opening your eyes, his big eyes stared at you like a squished bug, it made you giggle how eager he was to serve breakfast in bed.

“you are never gonna believe what i just prepared!” he excitedly said.

you smiled, sometimes hamzah was like an excited toddler showing you everything he did or found.

“so like, last night i was on facebook and found this super cool french toast recipe and tried to make it today for you but uh… we didn’t have eggs… or bread.” he paused and you tilted your head. “so i also tried to make pancakes with water and the mix but uh.. you never really showed me how to lower the flame so uh, they’re bricks now…” he nervously scratched his head

he was so cute, or so you thought.

“it’s okay, hamzah, what did you make then?” you asked, invested heavily. he always managed to surprise you somehow.

quickly, he got up the bed where he was straddling you, and ran to the counter where he had left the plate.

“anyway, cereal!” he smiled so big waiting for your reaction of approval.

“wooooow! my favourite!” you smiled too.

“i know right!”

- hamzah tries SO hard to please you :(

- actually tries to spend every single hour of the day with you, due to his job he finds himself being at martin’s often, so he brings you with him each time!

- late night editing with him, where you two are just snuggled together under the covers, hamzah has his blue light glasses on, and you think, man, what a sight to see!

- hamzah actually thinks you guys are married..

- not to be intense or anything, but to him, being with you means for life. you guys are going serious. no escaping from this man now. no backing down now.

- you and the cats are his little family. he has found a home in you and is willing to keep it forever <3

- every moment with you counts to him.

- in the mornings you two brush your teeth together, sometimes he spits toothpaste on your hand to make you mad, which doesn’t really work because you do the same to him and then it all ends in a laughing fit

- HE HAS NO SENSE OF PRIVACY T_T

- you could be taking a shower and he’s right outside of the shower curtain taking a shit and talking about whatever was on his mind

- when you’re using the bathroom he would burst the door open to grab something he left inside, unapologetically look at you and smile innocently

- since your little house –apartment– is rather small, whenever you use the kitchen together he has to constantly guide you around in order to not bump into each other

- grabs your waist to prevent you from slipping if he spills milk or water..

- literally just an excuse to touch you, though.

- sometimes you’re cooking and he just sneaks behind you to give you a back hug. rests his chin on top of your head and stays there for a while

- needs you constantly ngl

- if there’s something wrong with the house, such as a leak or a burnt bulb, he would try his best to fix it himself to prove you he’s capable of everything

- usually ends badly and you have to call someone else to fix it but hey! he tried!

- since you both are not very extroverted, house dates are perfect.

- movie nights under the dim lights of the apartment that lead to make out sessions..

“h-hold…” you tried to say between sloppy kisses being planted on your neck. “hold on!” you laughed out loud when the hickey he was giving you tickled your collarbone.

“mhmm, why?” you could feel his warm breath as he murmured against your skin.

“movie…”

“rather do you, though.” he replied.

- ordering take out that just ends up on hamzah and you racing to see who can eat more

- he loves to see you wearing his clothes <3 like, it actually makes him physically happy and super fucking proud

- loves how his hoodies are undeniably big on you, and how his shirts falls down to your thighs, covering you up so perfectly. knowing you enjoy wearing his clothes just makes him realise how much you both need each other pretty much always

- hamzah has mentioned –to you– before his desire to actually grow your family a bit more, no more cats though, no dogs either. a baby, maybe. or two. three?

- and he was super blunt and serious about it, also. like he was being DEAD SERIOUS. he loves you, dude. this man is a family man.

“we are very serious, right?” he asked you out of the blue.

“yeah, of course.” you replied looking at his direction. the bed sheets covered his body so you could only see his face peeking out. it was funny.

“no but like, im super serious about you, about us… i love you a lot and i feel so deeply about you, is that alright? do you not feel weird about me? like, do you actually like me or…?” he rambled, and you knew how self conscious he could get sometimes ;(

“hamzah, i am so very serious about us too, i love being with you, why would you doubt that?” it made you sad, but you had to constantly reassure him.

he leaned in to kiss you, so soft and desperate at the same time, like he was trying not to break down.

“serious, right?” he asked again as he broke the kiss

“yeah, very serious, hamzah.”

a moment of silence. he played with your hair, then subtly touched your face in the dark, tracing your features.

“okay but speaking super fucking seriously, i wanna impregnate you and i wanna raise our children and live until we’re super fucking old, that alright?”

he deadpanned. and you never felt so loved, even if his ways were… odd. you knew he cared, and you did too!

“yeah. that alright.”

- morning sex hits hard w hamzah btw. so when you’re still tired and wanna be together you opt for this one as an excuse to get up until the evening

- this man needs you so much that he actually for real wants to merge your souls together

- but as he cannot do that yet, he settles for your bodies..

- sometimes when he’s working he just :( needs you and your warmth and your embrace and your presence and you you you you

- he’s obsessed with you to say the least

- yeah so cockwarming.. where he just begs for it, and you cant say no to that wet dog face :c though you know he wont even last a minute without moving cuz he’s needy like that.

- his hands are grasping at your waist for mercy, keeping you down and linked to his own body. he tries his best to keep still, though you wouldn’t mind if he actually started thrusting

- loves how warm you’re always :c it’s almost embarrassing how pathetic this man is for you

“mmm, im… oh, god! f-fuck, im sorry, can i…?” he whimpers, his eyes shut and his work long forgotten on the desk

and god, yeah. you need it too. he’s been inside for what felt like fucking hours. you were just as needy and desperate but didn’t wanna say anything :(

“yeah j-just…yeah..” you managed to say, your face buried in his neck, inhaling his cologne.

it was so damn intoxicating, you felt so drunk on him.

- big on aftercare. he wants to make you comfortable and loved, which yeah you feel like that around him. tho he also needs aftercare from you sometimes..

- hamzah thinks, you found him to save him. save him from his loneliness, his misfortune, everything. he is so glad that you exist and decide to share your existence with him.

- hamzah now doesn’t have to look for a home in other places. he doesn’t have to look out for love, for company somewhere else. he has you, you’re his home now. now and forever

- you’re a home that’s not taken. a home that’s not temporary. a home that waits for him everyday. a home that provides love and care. a home that he doesn’t feel he’s intruding..

- a home he doesn’t wanna run away from. not ever

>_<

down bad for this kinda hamzah bruv anyway hope some1 likes dis

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, in every time ࿐‧₊ 2003 - who are we to fight the alchemy?

chapter summary: Things are back to normal at the X-Mansion, other than the new, permanent addition of Logan. But he's not here for anything other than you.

word count: 18.1k+ (total 36.6k+)

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: honestly, i got carried away with the slow burn, and i genuinely mean that cause how is this just 36k+ words of pure fluff?? i think i just clogged myself up with so much pain and angst that i needed nothing but happiness???

also, this is only part 1, it was meant to be one chapter but since it was 36k+ it didn't fit in one post, so go read the next chapter for the full story!

(if you want easier access, you can read the chapter on ao3)

warnings/tags: fluff, reader is a mutant with time manipulation powers, reader wears glasses, shy!reader, logan pining, soft!logan, slow burn (like... slow. burn.), one bed, brief sickness, brief insecurities, almost too much fluff holy sh-, reader has slight backstory, mention of twirling hair, brief injury

series masterlist - chapter 7 → chapter 8.5

The students walked out of the classroom, chatting amongst themselves until there was only you and the sound of you straightening the stack of papers in your hands before walking out yourself.

You stepped out of the classroom, the chatter of students fading behind you as you turned right, eyes down on the stack of papers in your hands. Only to bump straight into someone, the impact making you look up, surprised to find Logan standing right in your path.

“Whoa there,” he murmured, catching you by the arms just long enough to steady you before letting go, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Guess you’re still not watchin’ where you’re going.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you mumbled, “Sorry, Logan. Lost in thought, I guess.” You gave a small, self-conscious smile, unsure whether to meet his gaze or look anywhere but at him.

Logan’s eyes softened as he took in your flushed expression. “Not a problem,” he said, his voice unusually gentle. He nodded to the papers you were holding. “You really take this teaching thing seriously, huh?”

“Well, yeah,” you replied, shrugging with a shy smile. “I’m kind of… the physics teacher, so I have to.”

A low chuckle escaped him. “Right. Wouldn’t want to let the kids think they could slack off, now would ya?” His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than usual, something warm and thoughtful in his gaze. “Never took you for the shy type, though,” he said, almost to himself.

The comment caught you off guard, and you raised an eyebrow, trying to make sense of the meaning behind it. “Is that a… problem?”

“Nah,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “Actually… kinda nice.” His voice softened as he added, “Makes you different. But in a good way.”

For a moment, you stood there, unable to quite find the words to respond. Logan didn’t often compliment people, and even if he did, it was usually with a dry remark and a half-smile, not this almost tender edge. You felt your heart skip, but the butterflies in your stomach were quickly interrupted as a few students walked by, nudging each other and glancing at you and Logan with barely disguised amusement.

Logan seemed unfazed by the sudden audience, though. He just glanced at them with a raised eyebrow, making the students scurry off with stifled laughs.

“They’re onto you,” you said, amused despite yourself.

“Oh yeah?” He tilted his head toward you, his smirk widening just slightly. “And what exactly are they onto?”

“That you’re… softer with me,” you admitted, a bit nervously. “I mean, you’re usually not, well, nice.”

Logan let out a small huff of laughter. “Maybe I just don’t see the point in givin’ you a hard time. ‘Sides,” he leaned in just a fraction closer, “I’ve got my reasons.”

You couldn’t hide your flush this time, the intensity in his gaze making it hard to form any coherent response. He looked like he wanted to say something more, but then Jean’s voice rang out from the hallway, breaking the moment.

“Y/N! Hey, do you have a second?” She sounded friendly, as usual, but there was a flicker of something else in her tone—an undercurrent of urgency that made you glance over.

You cleared your throat, stepping back from Logan. “I should… probably go.”

Logan nodded, but you noticed the way his hand brushed against yours, lingering for a moment longer than necessary before he finally let you go.

Jean approached, offering you a warm smile that turned curious as she looked between you and Logan. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she teased lightly, though her expression wavered slightly. Her eyes seemed darker somehow, a flicker of something you couldn’t quite name.

“No, no, you’re not interrupting,” you said quickly. “Logan was just… giving me a hard time.”

Logan rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “Yeah, sure, make me out to be the bad guy.”

Jean laughed, though it sounded slightly forced. “We all know that’s not true, Logan.” She turned to you with a softer expression. “Walk with me? I had a question about one of the classes.”

You nodded, giving Logan a small, shy smile before walking off with Jean. You could feel his gaze lingering on you as you walked away, though you didn’t dare look back.

Once you were out of earshot, Jean sighed, a thoughtful look in her eyes. “You know, he’s really different around you,” she observed quietly. “I mean, he cares about all of us, but… it’s different with you.”

You felt a pang of curiosity mixed with uncertainty. “Different how?”

“It’s hard to explain,” Jean said, pausing for a moment as she thought. “It’s like there’s a part of him that comes alive only when you’re around. A gentler side.”

“Logan? Gentle?” you asked, laughing a little despite yourself.

Jean’s expression turned somber. “You’d be surprised.” Her gaze flickered with something that seemed… almost ominous, though it passed quickly. She offered you a reassuring smile, but there was still a hint of tension. “Just… be careful, okay?”

You frowned, taken aback by her shift in tone. “Careful of what?”

Jean shook her head, waving off the question. “It’s nothing, really. Just… I think he cares about you a lot more than he lets on.” She hesitated, then squeezed your hand lightly before heading down the hall.

You stood there for a moment, trying to piece together her words, her cryptic expression, and the tension that seemed to hang in the air, almost like a storm was waiting just beyond the horizon.

---

Logan hadn’t stayed long enough before to know what normal days were like at the mansion. Now he did. After classes, students filled the halls with laughter and chatter, some rushing off to the next thing, while others wandered outside. He watched as they sprawled across the lawn, huddled over comics, or playfully sparred with their mutant powers, while others claimed the common room and TV with that strange, easy camaraderie that he hadn’t known in a very long time.

And, he realized, it wasn’t so bad.

He was leaning back against a wall in the hallway, lost in thought, when he spotted you walking toward him, papers and a thermos tucked under one arm, your focus somewhere else entirely. His lips quirked up as you grew nearer, completely oblivious to his presence until he let out a low whistle, causing you to stop short, looking up at him with that small, startled smile he’d come to recognize—complete with a glossy shine to your lips.

“Deep in thought there, aren’t you?” Logan’s voice was a mix of teasing and warmth as he raised an eyebrow, watching as you took a quick, steadying breath.

You gave a shy laugh, a flush heating up your cheeks. “Sorry, I was just… thinking about today’s class.” You shrugged, gaze darting away briefly, only to return to his with a shy, half-curious look that gave him pause. “The students had questions about particle physics, and I… well, I didn’t expect so many, honestly.”

Logan’s smirk softened as he watched you. “Not surprised they keep you on your toes. You get all animated when you’re in teaching mode.” He leaned in slightly, voice dropping to that low, familiar tone that always seemed to linger just for you. “Must be why the kids don’t skip your classes.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Oh, sure, I’m just the highlight of their day.”

“Yeah, don’t sell yourself short, Y/N.” Logan tilted his head, his gaze holding yours just a moment longer than necessary. “You’re kinda the highlight of mine.”

Your heart skipped, and for a split second, you couldn’t quite meet his eyes. You mumbled, “You’re… not so bad yourself, Logan,” giving him a soft smile that seemed to settle his expression into something gentler than usual.

Before either of you could say more, Kitty zipped past, phasing halfway through the wall and glancing between you two with a cheeky grin. “Just passing through! Don’t mind me,” she called over her shoulder, sending a wink your way.

You felt your cheeks heat up, but Logan just shook his head with a slight, bemused smile. “Kids,” he muttered.

Still flustered, you cleared your throat. “So… got plans for the rest of the day?” you asked, attempting to regain your composure.

“Thought I might head down to the Danger Room,” Logan replied, eyes twinkling slightly as he glanced at you. “You’re welcome to join me. Unless you’re too busy grading.” He nodded at the stack of papers under your arm.

Your laugh was soft. “Grading or Danger Room training? Such a tough choice,” you said, your voice teasing. “Guess I could spare an hour.”

Logan’s smirk turned into a full, almost mischievous smile as he straightened up, giving you a nod. “Good answer.” He turned and started walking toward the elevator, his stride easy and sure, and you followed, still clutching your papers but already half-forgetting about them.

As you both walked through the main hall, a few younger students glanced at you and Logan, exchanging knowing glances and whispers. The whole mansion seemed to have picked up on this unspoken…something between you and Logan, and though no one dared say it aloud, you couldn’t quite ignore the amused glances.

In the elevator, you finally dared a glance at Logan, noticing the faint grin on his face. “I think the kids are starting to make bets on us,” you murmured, half-embarrassed.

Logan raised an eyebrow, giving you a sideways glance. “Oh, yeah? What’re the odds?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I’m not sure, but I have a feeling they’re rooting for you.”

“Smart kids,” he replied with a wink.

Your heart gave an involuntary flutter at the easy way he teased you now, each small interaction charged with a warmth and a familiarity that you were still getting used to. Yet, there was something else too—an intensity in his gaze that lingered, something that spoke of memories and past lives you didn’t know you shared. It made you wonder, in quiet moments, just how long he’d felt this way, as though you were a mystery he was determined to keep close.

When you arrived at the Danger Room, he shot you one last playful glance before stepping inside, holding the door open for you like it was the most natural thing.

You hesitated at the door, glancing over at Logan with an uncertain smile. “I’m not sure if I’m the best partner for this,” you said, shifting your weight as you adjusted the stack of papers in your arms. “I don’t really know how to fight.”

Logan shrugged, his lips curling into an easy smirk. “Well, that’s why I’m here, isn’t it? To teach you.” He stepped inside and gave a nod for you to follow, his expression softening as he watched you. “Besides, with that time-bending power of yours, you don’t really need to know how to throw a punch, do you?”

You chuckled, shyly pushing your glasses up on your nose. “Yeah, but it’d be nice to do more than just freeze people in place. You know, in case I need it someday.”

He nodded, his gaze lingering on you, warm and a bit amused. “Good point. Never hurts to be prepared.” He walked over to the center of the room, beckoning you forward with a slight tilt of his head. “Alright, Y/N, let’s see what you’ve got.”

You hesitated for a second, clutching the stack of papers and your thermos, until he chuckled and reached over, taking them from you. “I’ll hang onto these. Can’t have you distracted,” he said, setting them on a nearby bench. His hand brushed against yours, and the warmth of his touch sent a shiver up your spine. You looked up, catching his eye, and felt the now-familiar flutter in your chest as he held your gaze, a slight smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Alright,” he started, gesturing for you to follow him to the center of the room. “First lesson in not gettin’ hurt—learn to dodge.” He flashed a quick grin. “Figured we’d start there, since, y’know, might keep that pretty face of yours from getting bruised up.”

You couldn’t help but smile, nervously adjusting your glasses as you let out a soft laugh. “Dodging sounds like a safe place to start,” you agreed, glancing around the room, which hummed with potential energy, screens and obstacles waiting to spring to life at Logan’s command.

“Good.” He took a step closer, his gaze flickering over you with a warm familiarity, one you couldn’t quite place but found oddly comforting. “Just follow my lead.”

With that, Logan gave the signal, and a few small projectiles began to emerge from hidden panels along the walls, firing in your direction. They weren’t dangerous, just enough to test your reflexes. You shifted, trying to move away from them as they came, but missed dodging a couple, barely able to sidestep in time.

Logan let out a low chuckle, stepping in to help as he guided you with a gentle hand on your shoulder. “You’re overthinkin’ it,” he murmured. “Trust yourself—move with the flow of things.”

The warmth of his hand sent a jolt through you, but his words were steady, grounded, like he was trying to give you a part of himself that made all of this seem so natural to him. You nodded, focusing on his voice rather than the projectiles, and found that dodging them came a little easier, your body moving in sync with his instructions.

“Good,” he praised, his voice softening as he stepped back to give you space. “See? You’ve got it. Just takes a bit of trust.”

You looked up, meeting his gaze. “I… guess it helps to have a good teacher,” you said, your voice quiet, but he caught the shy smile on your face, and his eyes softened, almost as if he was seeing something more than just you standing there in the Danger Room.

“Yeah,” he replied, that lingering look in his eyes returning. “Been waitin’ for this, believe it or not.”

Your brow furrowed, confusion tugging at you. “Waiting for what?”

He didn’t answer right away, just held your gaze, something unspoken passing between you both before he finally shook his head, breaking the tension with a smirk. “For you to stop bein’ so serious in class,” he teased, lightening the moment. “Takes a bit to get you to relax, doesn’t it?”

You felt your face heat, and you laughed softly. “Guess I’m still getting used to… all this.” You motioned to the Danger Room and then to him, and Logan nodded, his expression unreadable for a second.

“Don’t worry, darlin’,” he said softly, that nickname slipping out as naturally as if he’d used it a hundred times before. “We’ve got time.”

Before you could ask what he meant, the Danger Room doors opened, and Scott stepped inside, eyebrows raised as he took in the sight of you and Logan standing close, with you looking flushed and Logan wearing a rare, softer expression.

“Didn’t know you were takin’ up teaching, Logan,” Scott remarked, a hint of a smirk in his voice.

Logan just shot him a lazy glare, but you could feel the warmth of Logan’s lingering gaze on you even as Scott’s teasing drew your attention. "Someone's gotta keep ‘em on their toes," he replied, his voice gruff but playful.

Scott nodded, giving you a smile. “Well, keep it up. We could use more of that around here.” He nodded to Logan before leaving, leaving you alone with Logan again.

Logan let out a small chuckle, glancing at you. “Guess word’s out I’m takin’ the ‘soft’ approach with ya,” he said, his voice a bit lower as he took a step closer, his gaze settling on you with a steady intensity that made your heart race. “But maybe they don’t need to know everything.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you felt something pull you closer to him, something you didn’t understand but couldn’t deny. And Logan’s expression, a mixture of longing and patience, made you feel like he was waiting—waiting for a moment only he understood.

---

Logan had been looking everywhere for you—your room, the library, your office, your classroom, but he couldn’t find you. He finally walked into the kitchen, Scott was rummaging through the fridge while Jean and Ororo talked by the island.

“Have you seen Y/N?” He asked.

Ororo glanced out the window, “it’s raining,” she stated.

“And?” Logan frowned at the window, watching the rain trickle down the glass.

He barely caught the hint of a smile Jean gave as she said, “She’s outside in the back. Probably reading.”

Of course you’d be out there. He nodded a quick thanks, stepping through the back door and into the soft drizzle. A few steps down the porch, he spotted a faint light coming from the field. He walked across the grass, the rain matting his hair and soaking his clothes.

Logan stopped a few feet away, taking in the scene. You were sitting cross-legged on the damp grass, a book open in your lap, oblivious to the world around you. Above, raindrops hung frozen in the air, suspended like tiny prisms under the glow of your lantern. It was like you’d created your own little world, untouched by the rain.

“Interesting reading spot,” he said, his voice low but with a hint of a smirk.

You glanced up, startled, but relaxed when you saw him, pushing your glasses up. “I just… like being outside,” you mumbled, glancing away. “It’s quiet.”

He stepped closer, hands still in his pockets, the rain parting above him as he entered your time-slowed bubble. "Mind if I join you?" he asked, a hint of that rough charm lacing his tone.

You nodded quickly, shuffling over a bit. Logan sat beside you, his broad shoulders just inches from yours. He looked up at the still raindrops around you and let out a low chuckle. “Nice trick. Keeps the rain out and all.”

You bit your lip, glancing down at your book to hide the small smile creeping onto your face. “Just… didn’t want the pages getting wet,” you murmured. “Or my glasses fogging up.”

“Guess I’d never thought of glasses as somethin’ that needed their own bubble,” he replied, amused.

You finally dared to look up at him, meeting his gaze for just a moment before shyly looking away again. “You’re drenched. I didn’t… I mean, you didn’t have to come out here.”

“Didn’t have to,” he agreed, leaning in slightly, his shoulder brushing yours just enough for you to notice. “But I wanted to. Figured I should see what’s so important about readin’ out in the rain.” He glanced at the title of your book. “What’re you readin’?”

You held it up, realizing he was genuinely interested. “The Da Vinci Code,” you said softly, almost embarrassed. “I don’t really like it.”

He raised an eyebrow, “you’re more than halfway done.”

“I don’t like not finishing books.”

Logan gave a soft chuckle, glancing from your face to the book. "Guess that makes you pretty stubborn, huh?”

You shrugged, fiddling with the corner of the page. “It just feels… wrong to stop halfway. Like I’d be giving up on it.”

"Giving up, huh? I don’t see you as the quitting type.” He leaned back, resting his hands in the damp grass, completely unfazed by the rain still dripping off his hair. “So, what’s got you so unimpressed?”

You hesitated, then sighed. “I think it’s trying too hard. Like it wants to be smart, but it just feels… obvious.”

“Guess it’s good I didn’t pick that one up.” His lips curled into a grin. “You always pick out books you know you’ll hate?”

A quiet laugh escaped you. “No. But sometimes I get curious, and it doesn’t always pay off.” You glanced sideways at him, pushing your glasses up again. "Not like I expected you to be much of a reader, though.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And why’s that?”

“I don’t know…” you trailed off, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “You just seem like the… outdoorsy type?”

He gave a low chuckle, leaning a bit closer. “I’m full of surprises.” The warmth of his gaze lingered on you, holding your eyes just a second longer than you expected.

You looked away quickly, biting your lip. "Maybe you can recommend me something better next time," you said, feeling your cheeks warm under his stare.

“Oh, I’ve got some ideas,” he replied, his voice soft but teasing. "And maybe I’ll bring you a book worth readin’ in the rain.”

You hid another smile, turning back to your book. But Logan didn’t seem in a hurry to leave, just sitting there beside you, letting the quiet settle between you both.

---

“I rewired them and added a few more breakers. I think you should be all good now,” you said, standing up from the floor and dusting off your hands. “Jean?”

Jean looked up from the workbench she’d set up in the corner, an appreciative smile crossing her face. “Thanks, Y/N. I swear, some of this equipment’s older than I am.”

“Just needed a bit of extra care,” you shrugged, glancing at the exposed circuits. "Or maybe some serious replacement," you added with a grin. "Hopefully, that’ll keep it from sparking every time someone uses the projector.”

Jean chuckled, brushing her hair back as she leaned against the bench. "We’ll see. You’ve got the touch, though—half the mansion would be out of power by now if it weren’t for you.”

“Oh, come on, I’m sure Scott would’ve figured it out eventually,” you teased, earning a snort from her.

“Scott knows how to flip a light switch, but you?” Jean shook her head. “It’s like you speak machine.” She tilted her head, a hint of curiosity glinting in her eyes. “So… reading in the rain again?”

“Um… yeah,” you replied, pushing your glasses up self-consciously. “I like the quiet.”

“That I understand,” she said warmly, but then, for a brief second, her gaze flickered. Her smile stayed, but something in her eyes looked distant, almost… wary. The change was so subtle that you almost thought you imagined it.

“Jean?”

She blinked and the moment passed. “Hmm? Sorry, I spaced out for a second. Must be all those late nights.”

“Yeah, you’ve been pulling a lot of shifts,” you said, watching her closely. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Oh, you know… just the usual.” She waved a hand, brushing it off with a small laugh. “Professor’s been on my case about resting, but there’s so much going on.”

You offered a soft smile. “Maybe he’s right. You can’t be everywhere at once, Jean.”

Jean’s expression softened, a hint of something wistful touching her features. “Sometimes it feels like I have to be, though.” She looked down, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on the workbench. “With all that’s happening… it feels like I need to be ready. Prepared.”

There was a quiet intensity in her voice that gave you pause. “Prepared for what?” you asked gently.

She glanced up, her eyes meeting yours with an almost searching look. “I don’t know,” she admitted softly, but her tone had an edge of urgency. “Sometimes it’s like… there’s something inside of me, something I can’t quite understand. And it’s growing.”

You hesitated, then reached out, placing a comforting hand on her arm. “Whatever it is, you don’t have to face it alone, Jean. You’ve got me, the Professor… all of us.”

Her expression relaxed, and she covered your hand with hers, giving it a grateful squeeze. “I know. I’m lucky to have you, Y/N.” Her gaze softened further. “Sometimes I think you’re the only one around here who isn’t constantly asking if I’m okay, like I’m some fragile thing.”

“Well, you’re not fragile,” you said firmly, earning a grateful smile from her.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Jean said, her voice a little lighter now. “And if you ever want to get away from Logan’s constant staring contests, I’m always around.” She raised an eyebrow playfully.

You blinked, your cheeks instantly warming. “Logan? Staring?”

“Please,” she teased, laughter dancing in her eyes. “He’s been all over you since you got here. I mean, he’s not exactly subtle, is he?”

You tried to shrug it off, though you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of warmth in your cheeks. “I don’t know… I guess I just thought he was… friendly.”

Jean laughed softly, nudging your arm. “Friendly? Y/N, I think he’d growl at anyone who tried to interrupt your time-bending reading sessions.”

“I’m sure he’s like that with everyone,” you replied, though the thought made you feel unexpectedly flustered.

“Sure, everyone,” Jean said with a smirk. “Except… you’re the only one he follows into a storm just to sit beside in silence. I’d say that’s more than ‘friendly.’”

You bit your lip, looking down as you tried to stifle a smile. You’d always thought there was something about Logan that made him linger around you, but hearing it from Jean made it feel… different. Like maybe you hadn’t imagined the little moments he stayed close or the way his gaze seemed softer when he looked at you.

---

You didn’t like meetings, and while you preferred being in the Professor’s office with everyone else over a one-on-one, it didn’t mean you liked it. The Professor was going over a mission debrief, his gaze sweeping across the team. You sat a little toward the back, trying to keep a low profile. Logan, who had come in just a few minutes before, took a seat close to you, his usual habit of hanging back subtly pulling him toward your side of the room.

As the Professor continued, you felt Logan's eyes on you, but every time you dared to glance his way, he looked like he was concentrating on something far away. It was small things like this that always made you wonder—little, lingering looks or quiet moments in the hallway where he’d pass by just close enough that his presence was hard to ignore.

You did your best to focus on what the Professor was saying, but after a while, you felt Logan shift slightly, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, relaxed yet distinctly attentive. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him watching you again.

Finally, you dared to meet his gaze, giving him a small, shy smile.

“What?” you whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear, still moving your pen back and forth between your index and middle fingers.

“Just wonderin’ what’s goin’ on in that head of yours,” Logan murmured, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Caught off guard, you blinked, feeling your cheeks warm as you continued twirling the pen in your fingers. “Um… just… listening,” you stammered quietly, not meeting his eyes.

Logan chuckled softly, his gaze steady. “Sure ya are.”

His tone held that familiar teasing edge, and you could feel him watching you even as you tried to refocus on the Professor’s words. The others in the room were paying attention to the debrief, but you had the odd sense that Logan’s attention was entirely on you, as if he could see through the quiet, reserved front you tried to put up.

Logan's teasing smirk lingered as you tried, and failed, to redirect your attention to the Professor's debrief. But as you continued twirling your pen, he leaned closer, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“Y’know,” he murmured, “that pen-twirlin’ of yours is makin’ me a little anxious.”

You stopped mid-twirl, blinking up at him, feeling a surge of embarrassment. Before you could apologize, he wordlessly reached over and took the pen out of your hand. But he didn’t give it back. Instead, he held onto it, letting his fingers linger on yours, and then, almost casually, his hand slid down to hold yours under the table.

You tensed at first, your eyes darting around to see if anyone noticed. But everyone else was absorbed in the Professor’s talk, completely unaware. Logan’s hand was warm, grounding, and despite your nerves, you felt a small surge of comfort. Slowly, you relaxed, letting your fingers curl around his.

He glanced sideways at you, a small smirk still tugging at his mouth. “Better?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, though you could feel your heart racing. Without your pen, you found yourself nervously tracing little patterns in the palm of his hand, letting your fingertips wander over the rough lines of his skin, tracing the knuckles and the faint scars along his fingers. You didn’t even realize you were doing it at first, just lost in the simple, steady motion.

Logan’s thumb brushed gently over your hand in response, his hold tightening slightly, and you swore you felt a quiet, satisfied hum rumble in his chest. Despite your shy nature, you couldn’t ignore the way he seemed to soften in these moments, as if he was just as reluctant to let go.

For the rest of the meeting, his hand stayed around yours, his thumb grazing lightly over your knuckles in a rhythm that was both reassuring and subtly flirtatious. You weren’t sure if he knew what his touch was doing to your already racing pulse, but from the quiet satisfaction in his expression, you suspected he did.

As the Professor wrapped up, some of the other team members glanced your way, but no one commented. Logan's usual stern exterior was unmistakably gentler, and a few of the younger mutants exchanged knowing looks, though they quickly looked away, perhaps sensing that it wasn’t something to tease you about.

When everyone started to disperse, Logan finally released your hand, slipping the pen back into your fingers with a slight, almost reluctant brush of his fingertips. He gave you a smirk, one eyebrow raised. “See? No need to keep spinnin’ that pen around.”

Your cheeks warmed as you fumbled with the pen, and you looked away, managing a shy smile. “Maybe I just need more practice.”

Logan chuckled, his gaze lingering on you as he pushed himself up. “Well, you know where to find me,” he said, his tone holding just a hint of something more. Then, with one last glance, he turned and headed toward the door, leaving you feeling like he’d stolen more than just a few minutes of your time.

---

Jones continued blinking, changing the channels on the small TV, until he landed on the nightly PBS station. Theresa huffed and folded her arms as you guided both of their focuses back to the cookies they had asked you to make with them.

"Okay, so, you take a little bit of the dough and roll it into a ball. It doesn’t have to be perfect," you said gently, showing Jones and Theresa the process with a small smile. Both kids looked on, wide-eyed and eager, Theresa’s fingers already sticky with dough, while Jones seemed more interested in sneaking bites than rolling.

“Like this?” Theresa asked, holding up her dough ball, which was more lopsided than round.

“Exactly,” you said, giving her an encouraging nod. “They’ll all taste the same anyway, even if they look funny.”

Jones looked from his misshapen dough ball to Theresa’s, smirking. “Mine’s better,” he teased.

“Oh yeah?” Theresa challenged, nudging him playfully. "We’ll see whose tastes better!”

You chuckled softly, gently placing both of their attempts on the tray. “Alright, let’s focus on making a few more before you eat all the dough.”

In the background, you caught a glimpse of Logan lingering by the doorway, half-hidden in the shadows. He leaned against the frame, arms crossed, watching the three of you with a quiet, almost nostalgic expression. You caught his gaze and gave him a small, shy smile, which he returned with a faint nod, his eyes softer than usual. It was a look you had started to notice more and more—a silent warmth reserved only for you, one that was almost protective.

Logan’s gaze stayed on you as you guided Theresa’s hands, helping her with another dough ball, and encouraging Jones to try shaping one like a star. You were so good with them, Logan couldn’t help but remember all the other times he’d seen you with kids in your past lives. You had always been gentle, patient, the type to make them feel safe and seen.

“Think they’re ready for the oven?” you asked, brushing flour from your hands.

Theresa and Jones looked from each other to you with eager nods.

“Yes!” Theresa chimed in.

“Finally,” Jones added, stifling a small grin as he looked at the tray.

You carefully put the cookies in the oven, setting the timer before turning back to the kids. “They’ll be ready in about fifteen minutes, so no peeking!”

Jones pretended to be exasperated but nodded, and Theresa let out a small, delighted squeal, her mind already on tasting the finished cookies.

Logan watched the scene quietly, noticing how natural this was for you. This wasn’t just kindness—it was something deeper, a warmth that drew people to you without you even realizing it. He could see why the kids adored you, why others in the mansion sought you out for comfort, and why his own instinct was always to protect you, to be near you.

As you turned to put away some ingredients, Logan finally stepped forward, his presence a little more obvious now.

“Didn’t know you were such a baker, Y/N,” he said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

You jumped slightly, not realizing he’d come closer, and turned to see him just a few steps away. “Oh! Um… I’m not, really,” you replied, glancing down. “I just… Theresa and Jones wanted to make cookies, and I didn’t want to let them down.”

“Well, from what I saw, you did pretty good. They look like they’re havin’ the time of their lives,” he added, his gaze softer than usual.

Theresa, noticing Logan now, grinned up at him. “You’re just in time to taste them, Logan!”

Logan chuckled, crouching down to her level. “I wouldn’t miss it, kid.”

Jones, though pretending to ignore the adults, cast a knowing look between you and Logan. “Yeah, right. You’re just here to watch Miss Y/N.”

You felt your cheeks warm immediately as Logan gave Jones a look of amused surprise, lifting an eyebrow. “Watchin’ her bake isn’t as fun as watchin’ you two mess with the dough, kid.”

Jones didn’t look convinced, but Theresa gave a giggle, pushing her little fist up to her mouth. “Miss Y/N’s the best at baking.”

“Oh, really?” Logan said, his voice laced with humor, eyes back on you. “Didn’t know I was dealing with an expert here.”

You bit your lip, flustered by the attention and not quite sure how to respond. “I’m just… I’m just helping them. Nothing special.”

Logan stepped a little closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “Seems special to me.”

You quickly looked away, busying yourself with wiping down the counter, feeling your pulse race under his gaze. The way Logan looked at you was different—intense, as if he could see right through every shy attempt to brush things off. And though his usual gruff tone was still there, there was a gentleness that only seemed to surface when he was around you. It was impossible to ignore how your heart jumped a little every time he was near, or how his subtle flirtations left you more flustered than you cared to admit.

After a few minutes, the timer beeped, and Theresa and Jones jumped up in excitement.

“They’re ready!” Theresa squealed, bouncing on her toes.

You smiled, moving to pull the tray out, but Logan was faster, reaching over your shoulder to grab the oven mitts, his arm brushing against yours as he did so. “I got it,” he said, his voice low and close enough that it sent a shiver down your spine.

He pulled the tray out effortlessly, placing it on the counter with a smirk. “Better be good. Don’t wanna waste time tasting any duds.”

Theresa shot him a mock-scowl as Jones reached for a cookie. “You’ll love them, I bet,” he said confidently.

You watched as Logan took a cookie, biting into it with a skeptical look that quickly melted into a smirk. “Alright, kid, not bad.”

The kids cheered, and you couldn’t help but smile as Logan glanced your way again, a knowing look in his eyes.

---

Dinner was quiet, though technically an understatement with kids running around, to Logan it was. You were nowhere to be found, and although you occasionally came to dinner late, never this late.

Logan leaned back, eyes scanning the crowded dining room for any sign of you, brows furrowing slightly when he didn’t see you among the younger kids or the teachers.

“Maybe she’s asleep,” Ororo said, noticing Logan’s expression. “She was up half the night after Artie had a nightmare.” She rounded the table, pulling a reluctant Jones back to clear his plate while Theresa ran to help with the dishes.

Logan grunted a reply, shifting his gaze down the empty hallway outside. You were dedicated—more than most. You made sure the kids felt safe, even if it meant running on little sleep. He considered waiting it out, letting you get some rest, but something made him push back his chair and step quietly out of the dining room, deciding to see for himself.

After a few knocks on your door and no response, Logan checked the usual places but still didn’t find you. Finally, he spotted you in your office, forehead resting on your arm, glasses crooked as you lay slumped over your desk, papers scattered beneath you. The light cast a soft glow over the room, illuminating the stacks of student projects and physics diagrams you’d been grading late into the night. He sighed, leaning against the doorway for a moment, debating his next move.

With a quiet step, he entered the room and came to your side, noticing how your breathing was soft and even. Gently, he rested a hand on your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice low, “time to get you to bed.”

You didn’t stir, and Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. Usually, you were a light sleeper, sensitive to the slightest sound or shift. He tapped your shoulder a little firmer, but still, you didn’t wake. He huffed, a small, amused grin flickering over his face. “Out cold, huh?” he whispered.

At that moment, Jean appeared in the hallway, pausing when she noticed the scene. She tilted her head with a slight smile. “Want me to take care of it?” she asked, her voice hushed as she gestured toward you.

Logan glanced at her, giving a subtle shake of his head. “Nah, I got it.” He shifted his gaze back to you, his expression softening as he carefully slid one arm under your legs and another around your back, effortlessly lifting you into his arms. Your glasses slid a little, and he gently adjusted them, his face inches from yours as he whispered, “let’s get you somewhere more comfortable, alright?”

You stirred faintly in his arms, leaning your head against his chest with a quiet sigh but remaining asleep. Logan carried you down the dimly lit hallway, nodding to a few passing students who shot him curious looks, their expressions a mix of surprise and amusement at seeing him carrying you with such care. He ignored them, his attention focused solely on you.

Reaching your room, he nudged the door open with his boot, stepped inside, and carefully lowered you onto the bed. He removed your glasses, then began taking off your sneakers while glancing around your room. Logan had never been inside before, only ever coming as far as your door, and he was surprised to find it… bare.

There were a few essentials: a neatly stacked row of physics journals, a small, worn plush that looked like it had seen better days, and a tiny hourglass that caught the light in an odd way, giving off a slight, shimmering glow. The space felt like yours in some ways—quiet, orderly—but the walls were nearly bare, with just a single calendar marked with scribbled notes. For someone who had been part of the X-Men for a while, you hadn’t left much of yourself behind in this room, almost as if you were ready to leave at any time.

Logan brushed his fingers over the small hourglass, the delicate grains slipping through it in slow, mesmerizing intervals. It reminded him of you somehow—the way you seemed caught between moments, present yet not fully anchored, as though you were perpetually passing through.

As he adjusted the blanket over you, his hand lingered a moment, thumb brushing softly along your shoulder. You shifted slightly in your sleep, unconsciously leaning toward him, a faint smile ghosting over your lips. Logan felt a tightness in his chest he hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge in years, a warmth that reached beyond the fleeting attraction he could brush off. This was something else, something that had lingered across time and lifetimes.

In the dim light, he could make out the subtle rise and fall of your breathing, the way a strand of hair fell across your cheek. It struck him how familiar this all was—the softness of your expression, the quiet trust in your sleep. He remembered a hundred small moments like this, times when he’d watched over you, sometimes even held you like this in his arms. He’d seen you fade away in all those lives before, but here you were, whole and breathing, even if you didn’t remember a single moment of those past lives. He was the only one who did, the weight of those memories settling heavily in his chest.

The door creaked, and Logan looked up to see Jean standing there, a soft smile curving her lips as she observed the scene.

"She works harder than most of us," Jean murmured, her voice almost reverent. “You don’t see her resting very often. Guess she trusts you, though.” There was a look in Jean’s eyes, something Logan couldn’t quite place, a flicker of warmth edged with something almost... distant, like she was there but not entirely present.

“She’d trust anyone if it meant looking out for the kids,” Logan replied, his voice low, glancing down at you before looking back at Jean. “Guess she pushes herself harder than she needs to.”

Jean nodded thoughtfully, crossing her arms, and for a moment, her gaze seemed to turn inward, distant. “She does,” Jean said slowly, “but there’s more to it, I think. She… well, it’s like she feels she has to prove herself, even if she’s already earned everyone’s trust.”

Logan’s jaw tightened subtly. That sense of needing to prove yourself, even when it was clear to everyone else that you’d more than done so, was all too familiar to him. He could see it in the way you volunteered for every duty, looked after every stray kid with barely a complaint, and stayed up late grading assignments, wanting to do right by everyone in the mansion.

Jean’s eyes softened as she took in the way Logan still watched you. “I’ll leave you to it,” she said softly, lingering in the doorway for a moment. She tilted her head, an almost curious look in her eyes. “She’s lucky to have you.”

Jean’s words lingered as she walked away, her footsteps fading down the hall. Logan let out a breath, looking back down at you with a mixture of tenderness and frustration. You’d been lucky in so many ways and tragically unlucky in others—dying each time he found you, leaving him with nothing but memories of those fleeting moments.

He brushed another stray lock of hair back from your face, his thumb lingering near your cheek as he spoke quietly to you, “One day… maybe one day, I’ll get to keep ya.”

After a moment, Logan gently placed the small hourglass on the bedside table, right where you’d see it when you woke up, before rising and heading toward the door. He cast one last glance back at you, reluctant to leave you alone even now. But he knew you needed the rest more than he needed to stay. Besides, he’d be just down the hall if you needed him.

---

There was one thing Logan had been wanting to know for some time—something that at times kept him up at night.

That damn glossy lip of yours. He knew it was either cherry or strawberry flavored, but other than that, he was clueless. It didn’t help that one of your nervous ticks, other than twirling your pen in hand, was rolling or biting your lip while in thought. Sometimes you bit your lip to try and hide a smile or laugh, like now, as he watched you and Jean walk down the hall.

“Empire Strikes Back is the best sequel ever made!” you declared, nudging Jean as you strolled down the hall together. “It’s everything you want in a sequel—a better story, more character development, actual stakes…”

Jean laughed, her eyes sparkling. “You do realize it’s just a movie, right?”

“Jean, please,” you said, feigning offense. “This is Star Wars. ‘Just a movie’ doesn’t apply.”

Jean held her hands up in mock surrender. “Fine, fine,” she said, suppressing a smile. “But A New Hope started everything! You have to respect the original.”

“I do,” you insisted, adjusting your glasses and smiling up at her. “But just because it came first doesn’t make it better. Empire has that… well, darkness. It’s iconic.”

Logan was a few paces behind, arms crossed, a subtle smile tugging at his mouth as he watched the back-and-forth between you and Jean. The way you grew animated when you were comfortable, your enthusiasm spilling over in debates like this, wasn’t something he saw often. There was a quietness to you, a gentleness—qualities that seemed to draw people in without you even trying.

It was no wonder the kids gravitated toward you, or why Jean looked at you like a sister she’d known her whole life. Logan found himself watching you more than he’d ever let on, his attention caught on those small, unexpected things.

“Fine, Empire wins, A New Hope second,” Jean conceded. “But I draw the line at Return of the Jedi. Those Ewoks were pushing it.”

You laughed, giving her a playful nudge. “I’ll give you that.”

Logan shook his head, stepping a bit closer. “Gonna let me in on this debate?”

You jumped slightly, turning to look at him with a surprised smile, cheeks coloring faintly at how close he’d gotten without you noticing. “Oh! Um… Well, we were just arguing the merits of Empire Strikes Back over A New Hope.”

Jean rolled her eyes. “Arguing is putting it lightly.”

“Some of us just have good taste,” you teased, looking at her before glancing back up at Logan.

Logan smirked. “Good taste, huh? Alright, which one’s your favorite then?”

Without missing a beat, you answered, “Empire. No contest.”

“Smart choice,” he said, his voice lower, eyes lingering on you a second longer than usual. There was a softness in his expression, an ease that wasn’t there with most people, like he was letting a bit of his usual guardedness fall away when it was just you. And it didn’t go unnoticed; Jean caught the subtle exchange, a knowing smile slipping onto her face, though she kept quiet.

“See?” you said to Jean, feeling a little surge of confidence with Logan’s agreement. “Logan gets it.”

Jean gave a mock sigh. “Well, I guess I’m outnumbered,” she said, looking between you two with a slight smirk. “I’ll just have to wait until I find a couple of people with my taste.” She shot you both a teasing look before starting down the hallway.

“I don’t think you’re gonna find any,” Logan called after her, making you chuckle.

You and Logan fell into step together, and you felt a little flustered, not entirely sure what to do with the silence that followed. Logan’s attention was a bit overwhelming—yet strangely comforting at the same time. He had a way of looking at you, like he was noticing details even you hadn’t paid attention to, and it left you a bit tongue-tied.

He gave you a sidelong glance, his expression softening. “Didn’t think you’d be into sci-fi movies.”

“Oh, I—well, yeah,” you said, giving a small, bashful smile. “I guess I’m full of surprises.”

Logan chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that somehow made you feel warm inside. “Yeah, guess so.”

The hall was quieter now, most of the students already heading to their rooms or the common areas for the night. You pushed your glasses up, looking down as you fiddled with the strap of your watch. “I guess it’s just, I don’t know, nice to get lost in a different universe sometimes. It’s a little easier when there’s lightsabers and the Force involved, I guess.”

Logan nodded, his gaze drifting over your face, as if he was trying to memorize every detail. “You ever feel like you’re still in a different universe when you’re here?”

You thought about it, then nodded. “Sometimes. It’s… hard to explain.”

“Don’t need to,” he said, voice soft. “I get it.”

You looked up at him, surprised by the understanding in his tone. He held your gaze, his expression uncharacteristically gentle, almost as though he was sharing in that quiet space with you. There was something in his eyes that felt like familiarity—a feeling of being seen that made you shift nervously, warmth blooming in your cheeks.

“Thanks,” you said softly, a shy smile touching your lips.

“Anytime,” he replied, the words seeming to carry a weight you couldn’t quite place.

---

Some of the kids were training with Ororo and Scott in the Danger Room, while you sat on the sidelines, observing intently. The kids were sparring, testing their powers in controlled scenarios, but it was more intense than you’d expected. Even from the sidelines, you felt a little thrill from watching their dedication.

You’d learned to dodge and block a bit from Logan about a month ago, but that was the extent of your training. Though your time-manipulation abilities offered you certain advantages, you still felt unprepared when it came to hand-to-hand combat. After all, a time freeze was helpful, but it couldn’t teach you how to throw a proper punch. You adjusted your glasses, watching as Scott demonstrated a move for Jones, who was trying to keep up, determination written all over his face.

“Ya look like you’re itching to join ‘em,” Logan’s voice came from behind you, low and teasing. You hadn’t noticed him enter, but his presence felt natural by your side. You looked up, feeling your cheeks warm as he met your gaze with a familiar glint in his eye, one you’d come to recognize as playful but warm—especially when it was directed at you.

“Well,” you admitted, shyly tugging at your sleeve, “I feel like I should know more. I mean, just in case.” You glanced back at the training session, feeling a little vulnerable for admitting it, especially to him.

Logan gave a small chuckle, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall beside you. “In that case, why don’t I show you a thing or two? You’re not gonna get there just watchin’.” His gaze softened. “If you want to, that is.”

“Yeah, I think I’d like that.” Your voice was quieter than you’d intended, a little unsure, but there was something reassuring about the way he looked at you that made you want to try.

Logan led you to an empty part of the training area, away from the others. “Alright, first things first,” he said, taking your hands and guiding them into fists, his touch careful. “A punch isn’t just throwin’ your fist forward. You want to aim with your whole body—so start by grounding your feet.”

He placed his hands on your shoulders to adjust your stance. His fingers lingered a moment longer than necessary, and your heart skipped a beat. He guided your arm into position, his touch steady and sure as he moved your arm, ensuring your wrist was aligned.

“Now, try to punch me,” he instructed with a small grin, stepping back and raising his hand to form a target.

You glanced at him, nervous but determined, and took a swing. Your punch landed, but he didn’t even flinch. Instead, he raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Not bad for a first try. Try again, but this time put your weight into it. Use your hips,” he suggested, moving closer to guide you through the motion again.

Taking a breath, you tried again, focusing on his advice. This time, you felt the force of your punch increase, though he still didn’t seem fazed. Logan nodded approvingly. “There ya go, that’s it. Now, keep practicing that. Remember: control, not just power.”

As you kept practicing, Logan’s focus remained on you, his gaze warm and encouraging. You caught Ororo and Scott exchanging glances, a knowing smile on Ororo’s face, though neither said anything. You brushed off your flustered thoughts, managing to hold Logan’s gaze with a shy smile.

Eventually, after a few more attempts, Logan put his hands up in a surrendering motion. “Alright, I think you’re ready to take on the universe,” he joked, his eyes crinkling with that soft smile that seemed to be reserved just for you. “Now, don’t go punchin’ the wrong people, alright?”

You laughed, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ll try not to.”

As you both headed out of the training area, Logan walked beside you, his shoulder just barely brushing yours. His tone was playful, but there was a tenderness in his gaze, and you felt a connection you couldn’t quite explain—something you couldn’t put into words but could feel, lingering between you.

---

You zipped your suitcase, a small carry-on for your few-day trip to California. The upcoming Quantum Information Science conference had you both nervous and excited, though you'd never been all that eager to travel alone.

Jean poked her head in, her expression soft but amused as she saw you standing by your suitcase, taking a breath before the journey. In her hands was a wide-brimmed sun hat, clearly out of place for the mansion but perfect for a California trip.

"Since you're heading to sunny California, I got you this," she said, plopping the hat onto your head with a grin. “Just because you're going to a conference doesn’t mean you can't look like you’re on vacation."

You adjusted the hat, laughing softly, though the nervous energy still lingered. “Thanks, Jean. I’m sure it’ll come in handy,” you replied, a little shy, but you knew she was only trying to lighten the mood.

Just then, Logan appeared at the doorway, crossing his arms as he leaned against the frame. His eyes held that familiar glint as he took in the scene, though there was something else—a flicker of protectiveness, one you’d come to recognize. Logan was rarely this obvious about it, but when he looked at you like that, it was hard to ignore.

“So, all packed?” he asked, his tone light but his gaze serious.

“Just about,” you nodded, glancing at the suitcase before looking back at him. There was a strange ache in your chest, almost like you were about to leave behind something important. But it was only a short trip. You didn’t expect to feel this way.

He gave a quick nod, then shrugged as if trying to brush off a thought. "Mind if I tag along?" He asked it casually, but the tension in his posture said he wasn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer.

“Oh—uh, well, I mean, if you want to,” you stammered, caught off guard. “But, Logan, don’t you have training and—”

“Y/N,” he interrupted, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Wouldn’t sit right with me, you crossin’ the country all alone.” His voice softened. “Call it me lookin’ out for ya.”

Jean smirked, rolling her eyes as she slipped past him. “Well, you two have fun in California,” she said with a wink, clearly in on the unspoken connection between you and Logan.

As she left, you tried to push down your shy smile. “You know, I’ll be in a conference room most of the time,” you teased him. “Not sure it’ll be much fun.”

Logan just shrugged. “Yeah, well, I can think of worse ways to spend a few days.” He bent down, hoisting your suitcase up with ease, then gestured with his head for you to follow him.

---

The flight was uneventful, but you found yourself hyper-aware of Logan's presence beside you. Each time he glanced your way to check in, your heart skipped a beat. Eventually, you arrived at your hotel, a sleek conference venue just a short walk from the beach.

Logan was grabbing the bags from the cab as you checked in.

"Yep, a single room—" the woman began.

"Oh, uh—actually, I called earlier and upgraded to a double," you interrupted.

The woman at the front desk popped her gum, gave the computer screen a flat look, and then glanced back at you. "Yeah, the single is the only room available," she said, unfazed by your surprise.

You bit your lip, stealing a glance at Logan, who had just entered with his duffel bag slung over one shoulder. His expression didn’t change—casual as always—but you could sense a flicker of discomfort beneath the surface.

“Guess that means we’ll be getting cozy,” he said, deadpan, though there was a mischievous glint in his eye.

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks. “Uh, yeah,” you managed, offering the desk clerk a smile before accepting the key. Logan followed you to the elevator in silence, though you could practically feel him smirking beside you.

Once you got to the room, you stepped in and took in the minimal space: one bed, no couch. A tiny table with one chair was pushed against the wall. Logan set his bag down by the door, glancing around before turning his attention to you.

“Looks like I’ll be takin’ the floor,” he said, already half-kneeling to lay out his bag.

“Wait,” you protested, shuffling closer and folding your arms. “You can’t just sleep on the floor. It’s… well, I don’t know what’s been on it,” you finished with a grimace, barely resisting the urge to pull a face.

Logan chuckled softly, his eyes meeting yours, and something softened in his expression. “Couldn’t let you sleep there. Besides,” he added, with a faint smirk, “I’ve slept on worse.”

You hesitated, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “We’re both adults. We could… share.” You kept your gaze on the floor, hoping he couldn’t see the flush creeping up your cheeks. “I mean, just sleep,” you added quickly, regretting the bold suggestion the moment it was out.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, but he didn’t make a joke at your expense, which you appreciated. “Sure, if you’re comfortable with that.” His voice was softer, reassuring even, which only made your heart pound a little faster.

You gave a small nod, not trusting your voice to stay steady, and took a seat on one side of the bed, facing away from him. You could hear the soft rustling as Logan removed his boots and jacket, settling onto the other side of the bed. The silence was almost tangible as he lay beside you, and your senses were suddenly on high alert—aware of every small shift he made, the warmth of him radiating just inches away.

After a few moments, Logan’s voice cut through the silence. “Nervous about this conference?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, grateful for the distraction. “It’s… a lot of pressure. Presenting in front of so many people. I know I’m prepared, but it’s hard to shake the nerves.”

He was quiet for a moment. “You’ve got nothin’ to worry about. You know your stuff better than anyone, from what I’ve seen. Besides,” he added, his tone softening, “you got me around if you need backup.”

You smiled, glancing over to meet his gaze. “Thank you, Logan. Really.”

He shrugged, but there was a warmth in his eyes that wasn’t there before. “S’what I’m here for.”

The two of you lay in silence after that, but you could feel the faint pull of sleep starting to settle in.

---

He shouldn’t have been surprised when he woke up like this—his arm draped loosely around your waist, your hand resting on his, and your back pressed against his chest. Logan’s breath was steady, brushing against the crook of your neck as the early morning sunlight filtered faintly through the hotel curtains. For a moment, he just lay there, motionless, taking it all in.

It wasn’t the first time he’d woken up tangled with you—not in this life or the ones before it—but it still hit him differently every time. That same ache, deep and persistent, stirred in his chest. The sense of déjà vu was almost unbearable, made worse by the fact that you didn’t remember any of it.

Logan’s thumb brushed the back of your hand, and he let his gaze drift down to where your fingers loosely curled around his. Even in your sleep, there was trust in how naturally you leaned into him, as if some part of you, deep down, remembered too.

“Darlin’, you’ve got no idea what you do to me,” Logan murmured softly, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. His voice was low, almost a whisper, as if saying it out loud would make it too real. He knew you couldn’t hear him—not like this—but the words still felt heavy on his tongue.

“You’re always slippin’ away from me. Feels like I’m just chasin’ ghosts,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “But not this time. Not this time.”

He pressed a feather-light kiss to your neck, just above your shoulder. The gesture was fleeting, tender, but it made his chest tighten. It was a moment he couldn’t allow himself to linger in—because if you woke up like this, he knew it would mess with your head, and the last thing he wanted was to throw you off before the conference.

Carefully, Logan began to shift, untangling himself from you with slow precision. He froze as you stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent, but your breathing evened out again, and he exhaled quietly in relief. Once he was free, he moved to the other side of the room, his footsteps barely making a sound on the hotel carpet.

Leaning against the dresser, Logan ran a hand through his hair and let out a soft sigh. He glanced over at the bed, watching as you turned onto your side, still deep in sleep. You looked peaceful, content even. It was a rare sight, and he found himself unwilling to look away for a long moment.

The guilt clawed at him, as it always did. You didn’t ask for this—for him to carry around the weight of all your lives while you got to start fresh every time. He wondered if you’d even want to know if you could, or if you’d see him as just another piece of baggage tying you down.

Shaking off the thoughts, Logan turned his attention to the clock on the nightstand. It was just past 7 a.m., and the day would start soon enough. If he wanted to make sure you were ready for it, he needed to keep his distance—for now, at least.

He grabbed his jacket and stepped out onto the small balcony, letting the cool California air clear his head. The streets below were already bustling, the morning hum of the city a sharp contrast to the quiet of the room. Logan lit a cigar, taking a slow drag as he leaned against the railing.

No matter how many lives you lived, some things about you never changed—the way you tilted your head when you were lost in thought, the soft curve of your smile, the determination in your voice when you talked about something you were passionate about. It was those small consistencies that kept pulling him back to you, no matter how hard he tried to stay away.

When he finally reentered the room, the sunlight had grown brighter, filtering through the sheer curtains and spilling across the bed. You were starting to stir, your hand brushing against the pillow where his head had been moments earlier. Logan sat in the chair by the small table, keeping a casual distance as he watched you slowly blink awake.

“Morning,” he said, his voice low but warm.

You stretched slightly, rubbing at your eyes before adjusting your glasses. “Morning,” you mumbled, your voice still laced with sleep. You glanced over at him, your cheeks flushing faintly when you noticed how closely he was watching you.

“You ready for today?” he asked, his tone deliberately casual. He leaned back in the chair, the cigar long gone, but the faint scent of smoke still lingered around him.

You nodded, though there was a flicker of hesitation in your eyes. “I think so. Just… need a little coffee first,” you added with a shy smile.

Logan stood, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair. “I’ll get us some,” he offered, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You just focus on getting ready.”

You watched him as he moved toward the door, your smile growing a little softer. “Thanks, Logan.”

He paused, glancing back at you with that familiar warmth in his gaze. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

---

You took another glance at Logan, who was seated beside you, looking ahead at the stage where Roger Koch was going to talk about dc SQUID Qubit’s.

“You didn’t have to come with me to see these talks,” you said, tilting your head slightly to look at Logan.

The two of you were seated toward the back of the conference room, a relatively quiet spot where Logan could stay unnoticed while still keeping a clear line of sight on everything. Not that anyone here would recognize him—he doubted quantum physicists ran in the same circles as mutants with claws and anger issues—but old habits died hard.

He leaned back in his chair, legs stretched out in that effortless, Logan way, arms crossed. His eyes flicked to yours, a hint of something unreadable in his expression. “Didn’t seem right, lettin’ you fly cross-country alone,” he replied, his voice low, just loud enough for you to hear over the murmur of the crowd.

You blinked, a little surprised at his candor. “It’s not like I haven’t done things on my own before,” you said softly, adjusting your glasses out of habit.

Logan shrugged. “I know that.” His lips curved into a faint smirk, the kind that always sent a little flutter through your chest before you could tamp it down. “But maybe I didn’t feel like sittin’ around the mansion while you were out here. Figured someone oughta keep an eye on you.”

You raised an eyebrow, fighting the small smile tugging at your lips. “Keep an eye on me? Logan, this is a science conference, not a battlefield.”

“Still plenty that could go wrong,” he said, the smirk fading as his voice took on a softer, almost serious edge. He didn’t elaborate, but the meaning lingered between you.

For a moment, you hesitated, unsure how to respond. You weren’t used to this kind of protectiveness—it wasn’t overbearing, exactly, but it felt... personal. A little too personal for someone you’d only known for a few months.

“Well,” you said finally, keeping your tone light, “I hope you don’t regret it. Physics lectures aren’t exactly your scene.”

Logan gave a short, quiet laugh. “I’ll survive.” His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before drifting to the front of the room. “Besides, not like I’m here for the science.”

Your cheeks warmed at the implication, and you quickly turned your attention back to your notebook, pretending to jot something down. Logan didn’t need to know how those little comments of his threw you off balance.

The lights dimmed slightly as the speaker, Roger Koch, took the stage. You straightened in your seat, trying to focus on the introduction, but it was hard to ignore Logan’s presence beside you—the subtle way his shoulders shifted, the quiet rhythm of his breathing.

It wasn’t fair, really, how easily he unsettled you. And yet, somehow, it felt... familiar, even if you couldn’t place why.

As the talk went on, Logan didn’t make a sound. But every so often, out of the corner of your eye, you could see him glance your way. It was subtle—nothing anyone else would notice—but it sent a quiet thrill through you every time.

By the time the presentation ended, the room buzzed with quiet chatter as people began to stand and stretch. Logan leaned closer to you, his voice low. “You catch all that?”

“Most of it,” you said, closing your notebook and giving him a small smile. “You?”

His smirk was back, teasing. “Not a damn word.”

You laughed softly, the sound surprising even you. “Why’d you even come, then?”

Logan shrugged, standing and slipping his hands into his jacket pockets. “Told you. I’m not here for the lectures.”

You shook your head, but the warmth in his tone lingered, chasing away the awkwardness.

“And the next one is…” he looked down at the pamphlet but didn’t say anything, his brows furrowed as he tried to comprehend the words on the paper.

“Rabi Oscillations in a Large Josephson Junction Qubit,” you said, a hint of amusement in your voice. Your eyes flickered back to Logan, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “You really don’t care about that talk, do you?”

Logan just shrugged, unfazed, his lips curling into a grin that made your heart skip. "Nah," he said simply, as though that was all there was to it. "Not my thing."

You rolled your eyes, but there was a soft warmth in your gaze as you looked at him. You had to admit, it was hard not to be aware of him, even in the middle of a room full of physicists discussing things you could barely wrap your head around. It wasn’t just that Logan had a presence that drew attention. It was the way he made you feel seen, even in a crowd.

Still, you tried to refocus on the upcoming lecture, shifting in your seat and tapping your pen against your notebook. The faintest flicker of discomfort crossed your mind as you realized you had no idea why you were even thinking about him this much, especially when you needed to be thinking about work.

Logan, meanwhile, seemed to have a permanent attachment to his casual indifference, but you noticed his gaze flicker to you again as you adjusted your glasses. His smile, small and knowing, stayed just at the edges of his lips, a quiet contrast to his usual stoic demeanor.

"So," Logan began, stretching his legs out even more, "what else is on your little agenda for today?"

You raised an eyebrow, amused by how interested he seemed in your plans, despite the fact that he'd already admitted this wasn’t his idea of a good time. “You really want to know?”

“Why not?” He gave you a small shrug, making it clear he wasn’t just asking out of courtesy.

You hesitated. Your typical habit was to keep things close to your chest, but for some reason, you felt a little more open with him. Maybe it was the fact that you’d been awake for the better part of the night on the flight out, or that Logan, for all his gruffness, wasn’t like most people you met. And it wasn't just because he was a member of the X-Men—there was something more. Something you couldn’t quite put into words.

“I think there's a session on quantum coherence in the afternoon," you said, glancing down at your schedule. "And then the poster session afterward. You’re probably gonna get bored quickly with all of that."

A slight laugh rumbled in his chest. "Guess I’ll have to keep my eye out for any... interesting distractions," he said, his voice low and just enough to send a shiver up your spine.

You pretended not to notice the way his words lingered in the air between you, but you couldn’t quite hide the slight flush that creeped up your cheeks. It was... impossible not to notice him when he spoke like that.

The conversation drifted back to the talk as the lights dimmed once again, signaling the start of the next presentation. Logan’s eyes never fully left you, even as the speaker began his complex talk on quantum information systems. His gaze, though, was softened now, absent of the usual intensity. It was as if, in the span of a few moments, he'd gone from being the aloof, silent protector to someone who just... wanted to be near you.

The thought crossed your mind unbidden—Could he be like this with anyone? Or was it only you?

But before you could chase the thought any further, the speaker’s voice became the focus of the room again, and you pushed the lingering thoughts away, focusing on the task at hand.

---

After what felt like hours—though you knew it had only been a couple—you were finally able to slip out of the conference hall. The speaker had wrapped up, and you both decided it was time for a break. The session wasn’t your favorite, but you couldn’t help but feel relieved to step out into the cool California air.

“You don’t need to keep me company, you know,” you said, a little sheepishly, as Logan followed you down the hallway, close enough that his shadow loomed over yours.

His hand brushed against yours lightly, almost absentmindedly. “Figured it was the least I could do.”

“Least you could do?” you chuckled, giving him a teasing look over your shoulder. “You’re already here. What more could you possibly do?”

Logan’s lips curled into a faint smile at your teasing tone, though there was something different in his expression. "Maybe I just like being close to you."

Your heart skipped a beat. You quickly turned your gaze forward, your cheeks warming despite your best attempts to hide it. “You sure it’s not just the coffee you're after?”

“Could be," he replied, his tone low but warm, almost as if he didn’t mind the teasing. "Could be.”

There was something in his voice, a hint of something unsaid, but you didn't push him on it. Instead, you focused on the coffee stand ahead of you, grateful for the distraction.

---

The week was over, and you both made it back to the mansion late in the evening. You stepped through the double doors of the X-Mansion, feeling the warmth of familiarity wrap around you after days of being surrounded by unfamiliar faces. Logan trailed behind, carrying both your duffle and his, despite your protests on the ride back.

“Seriously, I can carry my own bag,” you muttered as you pushed your glasses up the bridge of your nose.

“Don’t mention it, darlin’,” Logan replied casually, his lips curling into a faint smirk. He didn’t bother to look back as he headed toward the main staircase, your bag still slung effortlessly over his shoulder.

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth betrayed you, pulling into a small, amused smile. It was hard to stay annoyed at him when he insisted on doing little things like that.

“Jean’s in the rec room,” Logan said as you both turned toward the hall.

“How can you possibly know that?” you asked, glancing at him over your shoulder.

He just tapped his nose in response, grinning in that way he always did when he knew something you didn’t.

When you walked into the rec room, Jean was exactly where Logan had said she’d be—curled up on one of the couches with a book in her lap. She glanced up as you entered, her eyes lighting up at the sight of you.

“Hey! You’re back!” Jean closed her book and stood, crossing the room to pull you into a warm hug. “How was the conference?”

“Pretty great,” you said, grinning as you reached into the bag Logan had just set down. You pulled out a navy-blue baseball cap embroidered with the words Quantum Information Science in bold white letters and plopped it onto her head.

Jean laughed, adjusting the cap so it sat properly. “Oh, wow. I feel smarter already.”

Logan leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a quiet smirk on his face as he watched the two of you.

Jean’s eyes flickered to him briefly before settling back on you. “Did Logan behave himself?” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, your cheeks warming slightly. “He was fine. Kept me company during some of the talks, even if I don’t think he understood a word of them.”

“I understood plenty,” Logan said, pushing off the doorframe and stepping into the room. “Like how coffee’s the most important part of any conference.”

Jean laughed softly and shook her head. “Sounds about right.”

You reached into your bag again, this time pulling out a small, neatly wrapped package. “Oh, and I got you this,” you said, handing it to her.

Jean’s eyes lit up with curiosity as she unwrapped the package to reveal a sleek pen with her name engraved on the side. “This is beautiful. Thank you, Y/N.”

“It’s nothing,” you said quickly, brushing off her gratitude with a shy smile.

Logan watched the exchange quietly, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary before he turned toward the door. “I’ll let you two catch up,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ll be in the garage if you need me.”

As he disappeared down the hallway, Jean turned to you, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “He’s been hanging around you a lot lately.”

You busied yourself with unpacking, trying to ignore the faint heat creeping up your neck. “We were just at the conference together. It’s not a big deal.”

“Uh-huh,” Jean said, her tone teasing but not pushy.

“Don’t start,” you muttered, though there was no real bite to your words.

Jean laughed softly, giving you a look that said she wasn’t going to let this go so easily. But for now, she dropped the subject, slipping the cap off her head and setting it on the coffee table.

“Alright, I’ll let it slide—this time. But only because I want to hear about all the science stuff I missed.”

You smiled, settling onto the couch beside her and launching into a recap of the conference, doing your best to keep the focus on the lectures and not the way Logan had stayed by your side through it all.

---

You were sitting on the bed with Jean when the first sneeze happened. You had just been telling her about how you were up with Jubilee last night since she caught a cold from Kitty, and now you hoped you weren’t getting sick.

Jean raised an eyebrow from her dresser, where the soft glow of a candle flickered against the room’s walls. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her expression shifting to mild concern as she turned to face you.

“Y/N, don’t tell me you’re catching what Jubilee had,” she said, folding her arms as she leaned back against the dresser.

You sniffled, rubbing at your nose with the back of your hand. “I don’t know. Maybe? She sneezed on me last night, and I don’t have a healing factor like Logan.”

Jean grimaced in sympathy and gestured for you to sit. “Well, you’re not about to suffer alone. Sit. Let me check.”

“Jean, I’m fine. It’s probably just a tickle.” But you obediently perched on the edge of her bed, watching as she crossed the room with her usual calm precision.

She pressed the back of her hand to your forehead, her cool touch a stark contrast to the faint warmth radiating from your skin. You crinkled your nose at the sensation, and she laughed softly. “You’re warm. Not quite a fever, but you should rest. I can cover your classes tomorrow if it gets worse.”

You started to protest, but she waved you off. “Don’t argue. If you’re sick, the students will survive one day without you explaining quantum mechanics.”

Your lips quirked up in a small smile. “Thanks, Jean. I owe you.”

“Always,” she replied lightly, moving back to the dresser. As she fiddled with the candle wick, she glanced at you. “Do you need anything? Tea? Soup?”

You shook your head, but just as you opened your mouth to respond, another sneeze caught you off guard. Jean sighed dramatically. “I’m taking that as a yes to tea.”

Before Jean could head to the kitchen, there was a knock at the doorframe. Both of you turned to see Scott leaning casually against it, arms crossed as a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t tell me you caught it now,” he said, nodding toward you.

“Caught what?” you asked, sniffling as you dabbed at your nose with a tissue.

“Whatever Jubilee had. She’s been sneezing all over the place like it’s her mutant power,” Scott replied, stepping into his and Jean’s shared room. He glanced at Jean. “Is it serious?”

Jean shook her head, giving you a playful yet sympathetic look. “Not yet. She’s warm, but I don’t think it’s a fever. Just a little rest and tea, and she’ll be fine.”

“I’m fine now,” you muttered, though another sneeze betrayed you mid-sentence. You groaned softly and dropped your head into your hands. “Okay, maybe a little tea wouldn’t hurt.”

“I’ll get it,” Scott said, surprising you. He glanced back at Jean, giving her a small smile. “You stay. I can handle tea duty.”

Jean raised an eyebrow. “You? Making tea?”

“I’ve watched you do it enough times. How hard can it be?” he shot back, his tone light. Without waiting for a response, he disappeared down the hall, leaving the two of you alone again.

You leaned back against the bed’s headboard, glancing at Jean. “Is it just me, or was that oddly thoughtful?”

Jean shrugged, a soft smile playing on her lips. “Scott can be thoughtful when he wants to be. He’s just not great at showing it all the time.” She perched on the edge of the bed, studying you. “But enough about him. What about you? When did you start feeling off?”

You shrugged. “Probably this morning. I thought it was just because I didn’t sleep well. Jubilee was up half the night, and I didn’t want to leave her alone.”

Jean smiled gently, nudging your arm. “You’re too nice sometimes, Y/N. It’s okay to put yourself first every now and then.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time a student sneezes directly into my face,” you replied dryly, earning a soft laugh from her.

---

The soft clink of glass against your nightstand roused you from sleep. Blinking through the haze, you squinted at the figure in your room. Even in your half-conscious state, there was no mistaking the broad frame, the wild hair, or the quiet, almost protective presence.

“Logan?” Your voice was hoarse, barely more than a croak, as you shifted to prop yourself up on one elbow.

“Yeah, darlin’. It’s me,” he said, keeping his voice low. He straightened, setting down the glass of water and the small plastic cup with pills inside. “Figured you could use these.”

You blinked at the items, then at him, confusion mixing with an embarrassing sense of gratitude. “How did you know I wasn’t feeling well?”

He shrugged, his eyes scanning your face briefly before resting on the nightstand. “Jean mentioned it when I ran into her. Said you might need some downtime.”

“Oh,” you murmured, sinking back against your pillows. “Thanks, but you didn’t have to—”

“Didn’t say I had to,” he cut in, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Wanted to.”

That simple statement left you momentarily speechless. You weren’t used to this—the small, subtle gestures that showed he cared in his own quiet way. Finally, you managed a faint smile. “That’s... really nice of you.”

Logan chuckled, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “Nice, huh? Don’t let that get around. Got a reputation to uphold.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound dissolving into a cough that you quickly muffled with the crook of your arm. Logan’s brow furrowed, the teasing edge slipping from his expression.

“You sure you’re alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” you reassured him, though your voice wavered just slightly. “Just need some rest. And maybe a hazmat suit next time Jubilee gets sick.”

That earned a low chuckle from him, and the sound sent a strange warmth curling in your chest. He pushed off the wall, his boots heavy but quiet against the floor as he approached your bed.

“Take the meds, Y/N,” he said, his tone soft but insistent. “And drink the water. No arguing.”

“Yes, sir,” you muttered, though there was no bite in your tone. Reaching for the cup, you downed the pills with a grimace and a sip of water. When you glanced back at him, his gaze hadn’t shifted.

“Better?” he asked.

You nodded, setting the glass back on the nightstand. “Better.”

Logan lingered for a moment, his eyes searching yours as if to make sure you weren’t bluffing. Finally, he nodded, stepping back toward the door.

“Get some sleep,” he said gruffly, though his voice held an unexpected warmth.

“Logan,” you called softly before he could leave. He paused in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the soft light spilling in from the hallway. His head turned slightly, his sharp eyes flicking back to meet yours. “You can… stay if you want—or, uh, can you stay?”

The words tumbled out of you, shy but sincere, and you weren’t entirely sure what you expected. Logan hesitated, his fingers flexing slightly as they rested on the doorframe.

“I don’t wanna bother you, sweetheart,” he said, his voice gruff but not unkind.

“You won’t,” you said quickly, the corners of your lips curving into a small, nervous smile. “I mean, unless you snore.”

That earned a faint chuckle from him. “You’re the one who’s sick, darlin’. Sure it’s not the other way around?”

You laughed softly, the sound fading into a sniffle. “Jean says I get cuddly when I’m sick,” you admitted, fiddling with the hem of your blanket. “Last time, she stayed in here with me instead of with Scott.”

Logan’s brows lifted at that, a mix of surprise and something else flickering in his expression. He stepped fully into the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. “Alright,” he said after a long moment. “But if I’m stayin’, you’re restin’. Deal?”

You nodded, your gaze dropping to the bed as Logan pulled up the chair from the corner of the room. He turned it backward, settling into it with his arms crossed over the back.

But the sight of him there—close, but not close enough—made you hesitate. Gathering your courage, you patted the empty space on the bed beside you. “You could sit here, you know. It’s more comfortable than that chair.”

Logan’s gaze flicked to the spot, then back to you. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you said softly. “I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t.”

Logan studied you for a moment longer before nodding. He rose from the chair and approached the bed, the mattress dipping slightly as he sat on the edge. When he didn’t move further, you reached out and tugged lightly on his sleeve.

“You don’t bite, do you?” you teased, the shyness in your voice tempered by a touch of humor.

That coaxed a smirk from him. “Not unless I’m provoked.”

You rolled your eyes but shifted to give him more room. What he didn’t expect—what surprised him to his core—was the way you shifted closer, curling into his side like it was the most natural thing in the world. Your head rested on his shoulder, and one of your hands lightly gripped the fabric of his shirt.

“Jean was right,” you murmured sleepily, the warmth of him lulling you into comfort. “I do get cuddly when I’m sick.”

Logan swallowed thickly, his throat bobbing as he glanced down at you. His arm, tentative at first, came up to wrap around your shoulders, his hand resting lightly against your arm. His heart, which had weathered over a century of battles and losses, seemed to ache in a way it hadn’t in decades. Not since the last time you’d smiled at him like that—lifetimes ago.

“You’re fine, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice so low it was almost a rumble. “Get some rest.”

You hummed in response, already half-asleep, your breathing steadying as you settled deeper into his side. Logan leaned his head back against the headboard, the faint scent of your shampoo lingering in the air between you.

He couldn’t remember where he was born. Couldn’t remember the faces of his parents, or the details of any life he’d had before them. But he remembered you—every life, every smile, every loss.

And as you rested against him, Logan vowed silently that this time, he’d do everything in his power to protect you. For as long as he could, for as long as fate allowed, he’d stay by your side.

---

Logan opened the kitchen door, his palm resting against it until it clicked open fully. You walked through without hesitation, balancing a pile of graded papers in one hand and a steaming mug of tea in the other. Your focus was elsewhere, likely on your day’s agenda, leaving you unaware of the small effort he made to keep the door steady for you.

“Thanks,” you murmured absently, not looking back as you continued into the hallway.

Logan followed behind, his boots a quiet, steady rhythm on the floor. He didn’t respond, didn’t need to—you’d said the same thing a dozen times this week alone, and each time, you hadn’t quite noticed who you were thanking. His lips tugged into a faint smirk as he glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

The hallway was bustling with students heading to classes, some chatting animatedly, others juggling books or laptops. Logan stepped closer to your side, subtly adjusting his pace to match yours as the two of you navigated the crowd.

One of the students, a wiry teenager with goggles perched on his head, nearly stumbled into you as he fiddled with a small gadget in his hands. Logan’s hand shot out, a firm but careful grip on your elbow guiding you out of the boy’s path.

“Eyes up,” Logan said, his tone gruff but not harsh.

“Sorry, Mr. Logan!” He called back, clutching his gadget and scurrying off.

You glanced up, startled for a moment, before flashing Logan a small, grateful smile. “That kid’s going to accidentally build a time machine one day.”

Logan huffed a quiet laugh. “Probably already did. Just hasn’t figured it out yet.”

You shook your head, your smile lingering as you shifted the papers under your arm. Logan stayed close as the two of you weaved through the remaining students. When you reached the door to your classroom, you paused, glancing at him as he leaned against the frame.

“You’re not my shadow, are you?” you teased, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose.

“Guess you’d know if I was,” he quipped, the corner of his mouth twitching in a half-smile.

Rolling your eyes, you nudged the door open with your shoulder, juggling your tea and papers. Before you could get too far, Logan’s hand darted out, steadying the door before it could swing back against you.

“Thanks again,” you said, the words automatic as you made your way inside.

This time, Logan didn’t reply, watching as you set your things down on your desk and began sorting through them. You were focused, your brow furrowing slightly as you pulled a red pen from the pocket of your blazer and began marking something on one of the papers. He didn’t interrupt, but he didn’t leave either, leaning against the doorframe and letting his gaze linger just long enough to notice, once again, the faint sheen of gloss on your lips.

Logan clenched his jaw, willing the thought away as he straightened and stepped into the room. “You eat anything yet?”

“Hm?” You glanced up, your pen pausing mid-sentence. “Oh, uh, not yet. I’ve got a granola bar somewhere.”

Logan raised a brow, unimpressed. “That’s not breakfast, Y/N.”

“It’s close enough,” you argued, though your voice lacked any real conviction.

“C’mon,” Logan said, jerking his head toward the hallway. “Kitchen’s still got pancakes out.”

You hesitated, glancing between your papers and the door. “I should really get through these—”

“They’ll wait,” he cut in, his tone firm but not unkind. “And so will the kids. You’re not gonna teach ‘em anything on an empty stomach.”

You sighed, relenting with a small smile. “Alright, alright. Lead the way.”

Logan smirked, stepping aside to let you pass before falling into step behind you. As the two of you walked, he couldn’t help the faint sense of satisfaction that crept over him.

You might not have noticed the small things—the doors, the guiding hand, the way he made sure to keep you in his sight in a crowd—but he did. He noticed everything, because every moment with you, no matter how ordinary, felt like a fleeting gift.

And if there was one thing Logan had learned in the countless lifetimes he’d lived, it was how to savor the things worth remembering.

---

You sat on the bench in the Danger Room, the kids, Rogue, Bobby, Peter, and Kitty, had just left, Jean and Ororo behind them.

You let out a deep sigh, looking down at your water bottle, clutched between your hands.

Jean leaned against the bench beside you, her expression calm but thoughtful as she took in your posture—the hunched shoulders, the downturned gaze on the water bottle cradled in your hands.

"Rough session?" she asked gently, her voice breaking the quiet.

You exhaled slowly, barely lifting your head. "Not rough. Just... pointless."

Jean frowned, shifting slightly to face you more directly. "Pointless? You’re one of the smartest people here, Y/N. I’ve seen the way you handle yourself in simulations. You’re anything but pointless."

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. "Simulations are one thing. But in real life, what can I do? Everyone else has powers that actually help in a fight. Logan, you, Ororo... even Bobby. And then there’s me—slowing down time but not actually stopping anything from happening. It’s like... I’m just a delay button, not a solution."

Jean tilted her head, her brows knitting in concern. "You don’t think slowing time is a solution?"

"Not when it’s all I can do," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "I can’t fight. I can’t stop an attack. I can’t... save anyone. Not really."

Jean was quiet for a moment, her gaze softening. When she spoke again, her tone was steady but full of warmth. "Y/N, the reason so many of us are still here—why we’ve survived the fights we’ve been through—is because of people like you. People who think ahead, who create opportunities for the rest of us to make it out alive. Slowing time isn’t just a delay; it’s giving us a chance to breathe, to act, to survive."

You didn’t look up, but her words seemed to reach you, making your grip on the water bottle loosen slightly. Jean shifted closer, her hand resting lightly on your arm.

"You’ve saved people more times than you realize," she continued. "It’s easy to think that because you’re not throwing punches or shooting fire, you’re not contributing. But the truth is, without you, a lot of us wouldn’t have the chance to do those things in the first place."

You blinked, swallowing hard against the lump forming in your throat. "I just... feel like I’m not enough. Like I’ll never be enough."

Jean’s hand squeezed your arm gently, grounding you. "I’ve known you long enough to know that’s not true. And I think, deep down, you know it too. It’s not about being like everyone else, Y/N. It’s about being you—and using what you have to make a difference. And you do make a difference."

Her words hung in the air, settling in your chest like a quiet reassurance. You nodded slowly, still unsure but comforted nonetheless.

"You’re not alone in this," Jean added softly, her gaze turning slightly distant as if searching for something she couldn’t quite grasp. "We’re a team, and we’ve got your back. Just like you’ve got ours."

You managed a small, grateful smile, finally looking up at her. "Thanks, Jean. Really."

She smiled back, but there was something in her eyes—a flicker of something not quite Jean. It passed quickly, but not before you noticed it.

"You’ll see," she said, her tone steady again. "You’re stronger than you think."

And as she rose from the bench, her hand briefly brushing against your shoulder, you couldn’t shake the feeling that her words meant more than she let on. As if she knew something neither of you could quite explain.

---

You were making a simple pasta dish for yourself for dinner, it’s not something you do often, but since you didn’t have anything to do this Saturday night, you thought ‘why not?’

The pasta was almost done, the garlic and onions were caramelized in the pan, and now all you needed was the small can of tomato paste in the cupboard, way above your head.

You got on your tiptoes and reached up, your fingers grazing the can but unable to fully grasp it. You let out a huff as you stood back on your feet, frustration bubbling.

“Fine,” you muttered, glancing at the counter. Climbing up was starting to look like your only option.

You grabbed the edge of the counter and were just about to boost yourself up when a low voice from behind startled you.

“Need a hand, sweetheart?”

You spun around so quickly you nearly lost your balance. Logan leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. He looked like he’d been there for a moment, just watching.

“I—uh,” you stammered, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Logan pushed off the frame, walking toward you in that unhurried way of his. “Not my fault you’re so focused on... whatever it is you’re makin’ over there.” His eyes flicked to the stove before landing back on you. “What’s goin’ on? You stuck?”

You folded your arms, trying to mask your embarrassment. “I can get it. I was just about to—”

“Climb up there like a squirrel?” Logan teased, one brow arching. Without waiting for your reply, he stepped closer, his hand settled on your lower back as he reached over your head. Logan held the can of tomato paste out to you, the smirk still lingering as his eyes scanned your face. “There. Easy enough, yeah?”

You took the can from his hand, feeling the warmth of his fingers brush against yours. “I had it under control,” you replied, though your tone lacked conviction.

“Sure, sweetheart.” His voice was low and teasing, but not mocking. “Looked like you were about to break out a ladder for that one.”

Your cheeks flushed as you turned toward the stove, trying to focus on your cooking rather than the way his presence seemed to fill the room. “Thanks, though,” you muttered, keeping your back to him.

“Don’t mention it.” Logan didn’t move away, instead leaning against the counter beside you, watching as you added the paste to the pan. “So, this what you do for fun on a Saturday night? Whip up a fancy dinner for one?”

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. “Not exactly. Just didn’t feel like the dining hall tonight.” You stirred the mixture, trying not to let his teasing tone get to you. “Besides, it’s not that fancy.”

He tilted his head, the corner of his mouth quirking upward. “Smells pretty damn good for ‘not that fancy.’”

You felt your lips twitch into a small smile despite yourself. “It’s just pasta.”

“Yeah, well, I’m still impressed.” He nodded toward the pan. “You always this good in the kitchen, or is this a one-time thing?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Definitely not a regular thing. Usually, I stick to coffee and toast.”

“Figures.” Logan reached over, snagging a piece of garlic bread from the plate on the counter before you could stop him. He took a bite, his smirk deepening. “Not bad, though. You might be sellin’ yourself short.”

“Hey!” You playfully swatted at his arm. “That’s supposed to go with dinner.”

He held the bread just out of your reach, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I’m just helpin’ you taste-test. Gotta make sure it’s up to standard.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “Fine. Just don’t eat all of it.”

“Scout’s honor,” he said, raising his free hand in mock sincerity before taking another bite.

You turned your attention back to the stove, but you were acutely aware of Logan’s lingering gaze. It wasn’t uncomfortable—if anything, it was grounding, like he was anchoring you in the moment. Still, it made your stomach flip in a way you weren’t entirely prepared for.

“So,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter, less teasing. “What’re you doin’ with the rest of your night?”

You shrugged, keeping your eyes on the bubbling sauce. “Probably nothing. Maybe read a little.”

“That Physics of Time book you’re always lugging around?”

You blinked at him in surprise. “You noticed that?”

“Hard not to.” He leaned a little closer, his voice dropping to that rough, intimate tone that always seemed to make your pulse quicken. “You carry it like it’s part of you.”

“Well, it’s... interesting,” you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “And, you know, kind of relevant.”

Logan chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Guess it is, huh? Still, doesn’t sound like much of a Saturday night. You ever think about takin’ a break? Havin’ some fun?”

Your lips parted, caught off guard by the question. “I... guess I just don’t think about it much.”

He tilted his head, studying you with a look that felt uncomfortably close to knowing. “Maybe you should. Life’s short, darlin’.”

You couldn’t help the small, ironic smile that tugged at your lips. “Coming from you?”

His expression softened, something almost wistful flickering in his eyes. “Even for me.”

The moment hung between you, quiet and heavy, until the sauce began to hiss and pop, snapping you back to the present. You turned to the stove, giving the pot a quick stir. “You staying for dinner, or was this just a drive-by teasing?”

Logan smirked, stepping back and crossing his arms. “Depends. You invitin’ me?”

You hesitated, then glanced at him over your shoulder. “Maybe.”

His grin widened, and for a moment, you saw something behind it—a flicker of something deeper, something he wasn’t quite ready to say. “Guess I’ll stick around then.”

You turned the burner off before going to a bottom cabinet and pressing the wall inside, revealing five wine glasses and a bottle of wine. You grabbed two glasses and the bottle before placing them on the counter.

Logan raised an eyebrow, “so there is alcohol here.”

You chuckled, “it’s mine and Jean’s secret. We had Scott build a secret compartment a while ago for us.”

Logan’s lips quirked into a smirk as he reached for the wine bottle. “Scott, huh? He’s got a soft spot for his favorite students, I take it?”

You rolled your eyes, pulling a corkscrew from the drawer. “More like Jean batted her eyelashes, and he caved. I’m just lucky to reap the benefits.”

“Smart move.” Logan opened the bottle with ease, the cork popping with a soft thwip. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

You blinked, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I wouldn’t say that.”

Logan poured two glasses, sliding one toward you. “Don’t sell yourself short. A secret wine stash, cooking skills you claim are ‘basic,’ and a brain that can bend time—pretty damn impressive if you ask me.”

You laughed softly, taking the glass. “When you put it like that, it sounds cooler than it is.”

Logan lifted his glass, his eyes meeting yours over the rim. “Trust me, it’s cool.”

For a moment, you were caught in his gaze, the easy confidence in his expression making your pulse quicken. Then you shook your head, breaking the moment. “Okay, well, to secret wine stashes and mediocre pasta.”

Logan clinked his glass against yours. “I’ll drink to that.”

You both took a sip, the smooth wine adding a warmth that settled over you as the night unfolded. Logan leaned against the counter, watching you plate the pasta and sauce. You felt his presence like a magnet, steady and impossible to ignore. When you finally handed him a plate, he took it with a nod of thanks, heading toward the table without being asked.

“You always this much of a gentleman?” you teased, carrying your own plate to the table.

“Depends who I’m with,” Logan replied, pulling out your chair. His voice was casual, but there was a weight behind the words that made your breath hitch.

You settled into your seat, trying not to overthink it. “Guess I should feel special then.”

“You should,” Logan said simply, taking the seat across from you. He didn’t elaborate, but the look he gave you said plenty.

The two of you ate in companionable silence for a moment before Logan spoke again. “Jean know you’re hiding wine from her boyfriend?”

You nearly choked on your pasta. “She’s the one who helped me hide it! I’m not about to risk her wrath by spilling the secret.”

Logan chuckled, his grin wide. “Good to know you’ve got a rebellious streak.”

“It’s not rebellion,” you said, twirling your fork. “It’s... strategic resource allocation.”

He laughed, a low, rich sound that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

The conversation flowed easily after that, ranging from light teasing about your cooking to him recounting a story about a bar fight he once got into over a bad jukebox selection. You found yourself relaxing, the usual shyness that often held you back melting away under Logan’s steady, easy presence.

After dinner, you leaned back in your chair, sipping the last of your wine. “Thanks for sticking around. It was... nice.”

“Nice, huh?” Logan leaned back, resting his arm on the back of his chair. “High praise.”

You laughed softly. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do.” His tone softened, and his gaze lingered on you a moment longer than necessary. “You’re good company, Y/N. Don’t sell yourself short on that either.”

You ducked your head, hiding your smile behind your glass. “Thanks.”

Logan stood, gathering both plates before you could protest. “I’ll get these.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he cut you off gently, his voice leaving no room for argument.

You watched him move to the sink, his broad shoulders a comforting presence even as he washed the dishes. A warmth settled in your chest that had nothing to do with the wine.

For the first time in a long time, the quiet of a Saturday night didn’t feel so lonely.

And Logan had to ignore the faint pink stain on your wine glass in the shape of your lips.

remember to go read the next chapter for the full story!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

book 7 part 8 thoughts!!

***THIS POST CONTAINS MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR BOOK 7 PART 8 OF THE MAIN STORY!!*** Please note: this is NOT meant to be a summary or a translation; these are only my initial thoughts on the events that roughly unfold. There may be details overlooked or misunderstood in this post, so PLEASE do not use this as a translation.

Right off the bat, we're starting off strong with a video presentation from Idia!! He uses many MMORPG terms and analogies to better explain his concepts, even referring to allies as "party members".

The video is ~3 minutes long and the artwork used are Takashi Mifune-sensei’s LINE stickers. Yana says she is particular about functionality like Idia is, so she is pleased that they were able to implement this video. “Please watch Idia’s debut as. YouTuber!”

AGKVTIUOD8VQFVE IDIA SHROUD ASKS US TO LIKE AND SUBSCRIBE IF WE LIKED HIS PRESENTATION....... . . .. ...... .. . . . . .. . . . . I'LL GIVE IT TO YOU, IDIA... You popped off on the editing fr...

Idia tells us that there the population of Sage’s Island is roughly 20,000!

He basically explains his plan to defeat Malleus. Idia's going to fuck around with stuff in his own dream to make cheat codes to debuff Malleus (ie remove his invincibility). The others shall distract Malleus so he doesn’t catch onto what Idia is up to. Yuu, Grim, Sebek, Silver, and Ortho will infiltrate the dream worlds of classmates, "wake" them, and then recruit them to their cause. They will then lure Malleus into Idia's dream, at which point all the recruited students will JUMP HIM 🤡 Truly, the power of friendship but the NRC way…

Idia grants everyone the ability to DREAM FORM CHANGE!! By saying that phrase, it opens up a menu where you can magically change your outfit in an instant. The NRC boys are becoming magical girls… ✨

akjlfabidfbefeqof Grim has fun changing into his various Anniversary outfits! Ceremonial Robes, Labwear, Apprentice Chef...!

Silver and co. hop into Epel's dream! (Idia keeps in touch with everyone via his tablet while he stays behind in his own dream.)

Everyone at NRC seems to speak in the same Harveston dialect as Epel. And, well... here's apple boy...

IS THAT EPEL’S HEAD ON JACk’S BODY????????!!!!!?!?!?!!!?!?

THIS IS LITERALLY THE BUFF NATSUKI DDLC MEME 😭 I MEAN I WAS KINDA EXPECTING THIS BUTNIT FLOOKS SO FURGINGNGGGF GS CURSED

Anyway, the group just casually walks up to Epel and tells him everything is a lie??? And when Epel's world starts to go all wibbly wobbly, a dream!Rook and dream!Vil show up to praise him. Rook says he has heard rumors that Savanaclaw wants to recruit Epel for their own dorm, while Vil praises Epel as being both strong and beautiful, a perfect fit for Pomefiore.

I like that the implication is that while Epel still has a desire to be in a "tough" dorm like Savanaclaw, this dialogue seems to also say that he now also finds value in Pomefiore. This is why dream!Rook and Vil are tugging Epel in opposite directions; his soul must like BOTH options. Further proof is that Epel is still a Pomefiore student in his dream, he is not in Savanaclaw. To keep him under the sleep, the dream is trying hard to appeal to both sides of Epel's wishes.

So we battle the fake Rook and Vil!! Then Epel's memories come flooding back to him; the cracking glass effect is so pretty and calls into mind a mirror shattering as Epel gains his lucidity.

(Rook and Vil get similar "glass breaking" scenes upon waking, so I'm only going to comment on Epel's here and leave it at that!)

Cut to black to explain the situation to Epel!

Ortho invites Epel to join their "party" in Idia's dream! Then I believe he uses Epel's dream data to project a hologram of buff!Epel to remain in the dream while Epel joins the gang to hop into the next dream.

Next up is Rook's dream, and--

YUP, THAT'S A YEEHAWING ROOK HUNT IF I'VE EVER SEEN ONE 💀 I thought for sure his in-game 2D model would have larger arms (like, at LEAST Leona-sized arms, if not Jack-sized)... I guess not though, because we cannot have nice things/j

I love the extra detail of the leaves being stuck in the brim of his hat!! dfhlbafbiapia and bro just walks around with a quiver of arrows and a bow strapped to his back at all times...

ahbfg8yoadf9pbaegpb ROOK JUST DROPEPD A FUCKING BOMBSHELL ON US???????? Apparently Vil is a student at RSA and is besties with Neige???????????? BRO'S HEAD IS FR WRITING OUT FANFIC ABOUT HIS TWO MOST BELOVED IDOLS HOLDING HANDS AND GIGGLING TOGETHER

Uhhhh long story short, Rook runs off to his room and we chase him. What we find is--

YEAH THIS IS ROOK'S ROOM??????? It's probably what is depicted in his Savanaclaw Dorm Uniform SSR too. Note the split bed and the completely different carpets in the SSR artwork.

AEBFYVQEVYOFBQB THE WAY THE ROOM IS PERFECTLY SPLIT DOWN THE CENTER AND IS JUST STACKED WITH MERCH (including Tsum Neiges and Vils????????!????!?!?!?!?!??!!!!)

Rook starts to chuckle menacingly and pops off about his hyperfixations to us???? Then he wrangles us all to sit down and watch DVDs with him for the next *checks notes* 5 HOURS?????? AM I READING THIS CORRECTLY????? Rook... HONEY... THE WORLD IS ABOUT TO END, WE DON'T HAVE TIME TO DO THIS...

We keep trying to talk to Rook, but he isn't quite waking up yet. So we have an aside with the gang and Epel suggests... RECREATING OUR VDC PERFORMANCE??????? ? ?? ????? He shows Silver, Sebek, Grim, and Ortho the dance moves and the show goes on!

Rook is lured to the VDC stage and we get a new Absolutely Beautiful rhythmic with our current squad! Unfortunately, the vocals are the same as book 5, so we do not get a new variation with Epel, Sebek, Silver, Ortho, and Grim singing.

I love Love LOOOOVE that Epel is the center here!! He took the initiative to suggest the idea as well as teach everyone, and now he's REALLY walking the talk by serving as the "leader" of the group.

Watching the NRC Tribe makes Rook's head hurt and he starts to remember...!!

Well, wouldja look at that... Here comes dream!Neige and RSA!Vil to distract Rook. They say they are inspired by the NRC performance and start to perform Everyone Yahoo! This entrances Rook, making our task of "waking" him all the more difficult.

aihfboyfpie LMAO THEY'RE SO DRAMATIC?????? Vil steps up to defend Neige, and Neige is all like, "Nooo, Vii-kun! If anything were to happen to you, I'd be crushed by sadness :((" ROOK... IS THIS WHAT YOUR MIND COMES UP WITH...

Rook points an arrow at them and cries about how he betrayed Epel... (AYO LIKE THE HUNTSMAN????) and now he has to destroy Vil and Neige, who are "proof" of his betrayal. It makes him cry even more because he can't think of harming them, even if it's just a dream...

Anyway, time to pummel the sparkly duo! You can see from the battle sprites that RSA students seem to use REAL ASS SWORDS to channel their magic instead of magical pens. Man... Imagine being handed a writing utensil and then glancing over at the next guy and seeing them holding an ACTUAL WEAPON.

If you look closely, you can tell that Neige and Vil's pommels, grips, and rain guards are slightly different. Apparently, every RSA student has a unique one? WOW, I feel like NRC got ripped off then??? Cuz only the dorm leaders get unique items or staves to channel their magic and everyone else has the same standard issue magical pen but with a different magestone color. The only exception to this for the average student seem to be Diasomnia kids, who have baton style magical pens in their dorm uniforms.

Rook fully awakens and we rinse and repeat what we did with Epel (cut to black to explain things to him, make a hologram Rook to leave behind, and invite him to join us).

The last part of the update has us venturing into Vil's dream.

OMG, WE'RE IN FAIREST CITY??? AT QUEEN'S FILM STUDIO???? We just visited this place in a recent event! What perfect timing... I see you, clever TWST devs!

I swear that Vil's outfits are getting worse with each new one I see him in, but that's probably just my fashion sensibilities clashing with his 💦 I thought from the initial silhouette that we would be getting a slightly older Vil to show us how his values have changed since book 6, in which Vil declares he is always beautiful no matter what. Him being older would truly drive that point home; I feel this was a missed opportunity but maybe it wasn’t possible because these dreams don’t seem to be taking place in the “future” but mostly center on the present or past? Something, something, magic limited to what can be imagined and maybe the magic can’t reach that far “ahead”?

aefyeyovfyvqvf HIS NEW HAIRSTYLE KINDA LOOKS LIKE CROWLEY'S, DOESN'T IT...

Here, Vil seems to be highly popular + considered fairest of them all. Additionally, a certain SOMEONE has been relegated to being his mere assistant (and uh, Vil is somewhat demanding of them):

VIL... THIS ISN'T HELPING YOU BEAT THE MEAN GIRL ALLEGATIONS, SWEETIE...

On a more serious note, I think this raises an interesting point about Vil’s character. Try as he might to get over his envy of Neige, it’s clearly still something so deep-rooted in Vil, right up to the end of booo 5. Now this element also permeates in his dream world. Neige “has” to be demoted in so Vil can stand on top—but is that really “fair” to Neige?? Is it truly Vil’s jealousy that informs the dream of this, and thus the dream is spinning this shallow, easy victory for Vil’s satisfaction??? Because the noble Vil I know of in book 5 wouldn’t consider this a real “win”. Very fascinating topic to ponder!

Vil has Neige toss us out, which Neige does. The dream is preemptively acting this time, with dream!Neige coming at us. We make a getaway and somehow whack the head of the announcer + have Rook usurp his role.

As Vil is walking down the red carpet, Rook announces the various sins that Vil has committed. Vil panics and demands that someone shut Rook up, but then he starts to realize things aren't quite right.

We try to intervene, but Neige gets in the way and ultimately Vil is pulled deeper into his own darkness. Everyone else plunges into the dark with Vil?? I was worried that we'd have another battle map segment but thankfully there was none!!

We're back in the VDC backstage hallway area and stumble across a horrifying sight. Neige is on the ground (next to an empty bottle of apple juice) and all Seven Dwarves are surrounding him and sobbing. Ortho runs a scan on his vitals and Neige... FLATLINES...

WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?????? THAT VIL ACTUALLY INTENDED TO KILL NEIGE IN BOOK 5????? 💀 Dude... No wonder why Vil was feeling so guilty and screaming that his actions were so "ugly"...

Epel uses his UM to encase Neige in a magical glass coffin to keep him safe. Then they run out onto the VDC stage and hear the announcer declaring that NRC has won. Vil is there soaking up all the attention and praise until we confront him.

Just as he is starting to "awaken", the darkness comes back and Vil alone is taken.

What I find really adorable here is that both Epel and Rook rush to his side and try to pull Vil out of the darkness. They're... OFFERING THEIR HANDS... TO HELP HIM OUT OF THE MIRE... OFFERED HANDS... A MOTIF THAT HAS BEEN IN TWST SINCE THE PROLOGUE... 👁️

Vil finally faces off against his Phantom. Like Idia in the last update, Vil willingly assumes his OB form to do battle. These fights seem very symbolic in the grand scheme of things. Idia and now Vil, confronting the worst, most unsavory parts of themselves, their inner demons, and rising victorious, proving that they have become better people… It continues the little bits of character growth that we’ve been seeing in each of the past books!!

He rises from the darkness and joins up with everyone else after conquering the fight!! The update ends here.

Okay, there's a LOT to talk about????????

The highlight for me was definitely Idia's presentation. It was very fun to watch because of the slick editing and it was a silly way to lay out the plans. I appreciate that we get to see Idia's strengths on display here; he can get long-winded and throw in lots of eccentric gamer slang, but you can also see how quickly he's able to tailor a complex plan together while accounting for many variables. adfhlboafoiyebif I UNDERSTAND THE IDIA HYPE NOW, I UNDERSTAND IT ALL...

(Side note: I did not know where to insert this, so I'll do it at the end! BONUS POINTS TO IDIA FOR RIGHTFULLY CALLING MALLEUS SHALLOW 💀 because his understanding of constitutes as happiness truly IS shallow. Once again, Idia slays with his brutally real words...)

I already said my parts about Epel and Rook's dreams when they happened. It was great seeing how their characters have developed, especially Epel! I never much cared for him, but I really appreciate all that he has done this update.

This pretty much confirms that future updates will have us visiting every remaining classmate's dreams and "waking" them. Admittedly, I'm both excited and worried??? Because that's a TON to cram in, and I worry that not everyone will get proper screentime or development. On the other hand, I'm hype to see what their dreams are like and what other limited SSRs the game might throw at us.

I feel like with the reveal of Vil OBing to fight his Phantom/"inner demons", we'll get similar scenes with the other OB boys coming to terms with what they've done and where they can go from here. This... might lead into the highly desired and speculated about Overblot series of SSRs, which I theorize will be the limited SSRs for each of the OB boys. I'll definitely be keeping my eyes peeled for those, TWST... I wonder if we'll get a Neige card eventually too??? Since we did see his battle assets exist this time. Will Chenya get one too, assuming he comes in a futureHeartslabyul update??

Aaaaaah, next time... Scarabia... 🤡 I'm so hype for that, Scarabia is like my second favorite dorm next to Octavinelle!! (SPEAKING OF, WILL WE FINALLY GET EEL FORM CARDS FOR THE TWINS...)

I’m sliiiightly concerned for Silver because bro used his UM no less than, what? 4 or 5 times this update alone??? He used his UM to enter Yuu’s dream and then Sebek, Lilia, AND Idia’s. Presumably, he also has to use his UM no less than 13 more times (12 more for the remaining boys + 1 more time to return them all to Idia’s to ambush Malleus). And even worse, he has to transport an increasing number of people each time. HOW TF IS SILVER NOT OVERBLOTTING????! 😭

bxjsgwjwnwkcbjsbs This update was nonstop WTF moments sandwiched between genuinely heartfelt moments. It’s been really rewarding to follow along and see how the Pomefiore boys have changed since we first met them all the way back in late book 4, early book 5. Looking forward to seeing how the other boys play out!! (… Book 7 is fr about to be 200+ parts long 😭)

[punkpandapatrixk]

❣️How Abnormal Are You in Love? ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

Don’t be too hard on yourself with this PAC. Everybody in this world’s pretty much abnormal anyway. We all want something that’s extremely rare in this world: Love. Sometimes, we go crazy after mistaking shit for Love. But we all heal. Eventually, we all learn to love more healthily and sanely. And really, that’s all that matters. The crazy is also part of the character development~♥︎

☆♪°・.

‘Hey, actually, when was it that I began to realise that there’s no such thing as forever? Even so, I’m prouder than anybody else about the fact that the days we spent together were at least not a lie.

Even though it’s true that the length of time we have lived is only slightly different, just the fact that we met, that we loved, though we may never love each other again… I won’t forget.

Hey, why do I still want you by my side, thinking that I won’t do without you, even though this is hurting me so much? Even so, I became a person who could be grateful for the smallest things in life. It’s because, even the most casual of words were so meaningful between us.

Because we met, because we loved, though we may never love each other again…I’ll be fine with turning all of it into proof that I’ll survive, whilst facing all of truth and reality.

I’m just glad that we met. I’m just glad that we loved. Though we may never see each other again… I won’t forget.’

☆♪°・.

Those are words from Ayumi Hamasaki’s legendary song, LOVE ~Destiny~. At some point in Life, Ayumi said in an interview, ‘I loved one man so much that I destroyed myself.’ I can’t help but think this song could be about…it? Maybe hahah Just a vibe, gals~♡

SONG: LOVE ~Destiny~ by Hamasaki Ayumi

MOVIE: Snakes and Earrings (2008)

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 3]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – What I Can’t Let Go Of, Really, Is My Pride…

VIBE: kiss by Chara

what is, Love? – 4 of Swords

Well, it seems quite obvious your past was somewhat chaotic. I think throughout childhood you felt like you were crossing a battlefield or had to fight the stormy seas all by yourself. Because of this, you deeply crave a Love that can put an end to all of those noises. In fact, it’s only fitting. Deep down you’ve always known that Love is something that’s pure, sweet and gentle; that it’s supposed to put you at ease. You understand that the world is in chaos because nobody has Love in their hearts.

You, never wanted to be like those grownups who were fighting with their own spouses. Even if you’re young, you feel like an Old Soul—the only one who seems to truly understand what Love is and is not. And you see that 99% of people literally don’t know what Love is, let alone how to love right. And you’re afraid. What if you can’t find that one person who can love you right?

Deep in your subconscious, you have these standards and ideals you desperately want to maintain. But nobody you’ve ever met seems to understand where you’re coming from. What you want is something so pure. People are rarely pure of heart, so nobody gets it. And it feels incredibly lonely. And at some point, you might’ve begun to doubt if your standards are even fair…

why do you chase, Love? – King of Wands Rx

So you grew up a bit and began to wonder what might happen if you lower your standards…a bit? You want to experience passion, right? You’re seeing all these peers around you kissing and holding each other and you crave that, too. You know very well it’s not like they’re in love—they’re just silly, infatuated, hormonal fuckers; but you wonder how it would feel to be intimate with someone. To actually have someone want you like that. To be wanted. To be held. To be kissed. To be…loved. No matter how shallowly.

Now you’re willing to look for someone passionate. You could try with a puzzling character. You like that kinda shit. Any kind of an intriguing fucker with some semblance of a mystery; making you curious to dive deep into their side of crazy. How do I figure out your particular brand of bullshit? Anybody you can’t immediately figure out would excite you to a point of insanity. And you thought this was happiness. You thought, this level of excitement surely must be happiness. Perhaps…even Love? Otherwise…

How do you explain this feeling that suddenly strikes, rattling your heartstrings, making you realise that there’s somebody in this world you’d want to care for other than yourself? Just the idea that you even fantasise about growing older with this mysterious fucker… How is this not, Love? And if this isn’t Love…what is? How else are people supposed to know happiness if this excitement alone isn’t enough?

what happens when Love, dies? – 8 of Cups Rx

To begin with, you’re not one to trust easily. It takes a lot for you to allow someone to see your vulnerable side. And when you go in, you go all in. It may not feel like it immediately because you’re cautious, but once you’re in…because you feel sure of someone…you’re in deep. Too deep it feels like you’re drowning in this whole situation, if anything. And you’re proud of how much you’re able to give.

And…you’re generally proud of your boundaries and the standards and ideals you’ve imposed upon yourself and others. So, the fact that you’ve given so much, revealed so much to someone who wouldn’t be there for life, is beyond frustrating. It’s world-shattering, at least. What have I been in this situationship/relationship for if it ain’t gonna last?!?! I can’t just let it die like that! Maybe I’m doing something wrong?! I must’ve! Lest none of this would’ve happened…

When Love dies, it feels so shameful. It’s a shame you trusted the wrong fucker. It’s a shame someone was able to see you that vulnerable. It’s disgusting that you thought this was The One. What was I thinking? Now everything becomes clear. It’s not the loss of that person’s Love you’re crying about. If you’re being honest now, you couldn’t care less that such a loser’s gone from your world. If anything, it’s such a relief. It was just the shock from knowing you made a mistake that made you cry… It’s OK now.

MY HEART, MY PRIDE🔻💜

sacrifices I’d made – Green Magus (John Magus)

I’m glad I was able to love – Priestess of Ambition

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☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – I Can’t Tell If I’m Passionate or Just Immature

VIBE: Boys & Girls by Hamasaki Ayumi

what is, Love? – Ace of Pentacles Rx

To begin with, you’re not exactly a rational person. Not saying you’re dumb! You just have a lot of passion for something that’s unexpected or foreign. You like mysteries and you aren’t afraid to dip your toe in uncharted waters. This desire could’ve developed from having a childhood that felt constricted tho. I think you grew up surrounded by so many rules and laws and forbidden things and that’s how you developed a taste for, DANGER~

It’s exciting, from time to time, to think about throwing all your caution to the wind and breaking all rules. You want to disappoint. If you’re being honest, you’re damn tired of following everybody’s whims and concerning yourself with their expectations. What about what I want?? You want to live. You want to feel alive. There are so many exciting things outside of your everyday Life, why can’t you have any of that? At some point, you could’ve dreamt of being rescued from your Tower by a handsome daredevil of any kind of a fucker.

If that fucker happens to be handsome and rich, even better. But that doesn’t really matter. You just want someone brave enough to approach you and actually uproot you from your boring Life. Surely, Love can do that to a person…? I don’t need stability, let alone predictability; what I want is a romantic hero who’ll take me on a grand adventure of Love! And if that daredevil happens to be dumb…

why do you chase, Love? – 9 of Swords

In many ways, you’re totally not an innocent person. You want to hurt. If whoever daredevil tries to fulfil your fantasies of being rescued from your miserable Tower happens to be dumb, you’re gonna be having a field trip! XD You want to terrorise and traumatise a person, really. It’s vengeance for all the years that you were serving others. Now, it’s your time to be served. It doesn’t even matter if they don’t worship you. You’re ready to find another dumbfuck to toy with. You’re hardly ever sincere anyway~

Why bother with sincerity? Ever since you were a kid, you’ve observed that none of the adults you knew was ever sincere. What even is Love? I think you know of it conceptually. But what exactly is its purpose? What exactly is so good about it? And how? How exactly must one be in order to attain it? You don’t believe in it some days. You deeply crave it some days. You could die for it some days. You want others to die for your Love most days.

Life is confusing. Love is confusing. Sex is easy. Money is easy. Food and jewelleries are easy. Let’s live easily. Life is exhausting if you think too much about everything that could go wrong. I’m done feeling terrible about my own existence, so I want someone to spin me around and make me forget. That’s ideal. Is generally your motto when chasing… Love♡

what happens when Love, dies? – 8 of Wands Rx

You don’t care about it. You don’t particularly care about losing people. It’s expected. If anything, because you’re never serious with quite anybody anyway, ghosting is the best way to go about it. You’re the type to ghost, block, and you don’t even mind if you’re the one ghosted or blocked. Basically, you just don’t want any contact with someone you’ve lost interest in anyway. So that only makes it easier for you.

In many ways, I think you sometimes regret being this kind of a callous person. There are days you wonder if you’ll become someone more sincere. You’ve wondered what it would take to actually love someone. To actually be loved back. Surely that must be so nice. You want to be happy, honestly. But it feels like a distant daydream. You don’t particularly understand how two people can be happy living together. After all, you find people exhausting most of the time.

All you know is that you’ve lived with yourself for the longest time. And if you have to compromise or sacrifice anything…you’re not willing. You’ve sacrificed shit before, a looong time ago, and you got nothing back in return. You gave someone a rose and they gave you back thorns and strangled you with it. Surely that can’t be happiness. Two people who don’t know how to love can’t be happy together. Life is better lived alone.

MY HEART, MY PRIDE🔻❤️

sacrifices I’d made – Red Alchemist (John Dee)

I’m glad I was able to love – Priestess of Innocence

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – Damn, Why’s Everybody Crying for Love?

VIBE: Sunglasses by Utada Hikaru

what is, Love? – 2 of Cups Rx

Uhm…you’re a comical Pile for sure. Your psychology is so complex, although it’s also super straightforward (to you), but some people are not gonna have an easy time figuring out if you’re sincere or not. Most of us have got a lot of exposure to tragical romance, right? A lot of people get deep and insane in Love. And here you are wondering why everybody’s crying for Love. Why is everybody suffering in the name of Love? That’s not Love. People are silly for falling continuously for the wrong people. It’s all a Game for them. Me? I don’t play games.

But you do! Everybody does when it comes to falling in Love, to various extents. That’s what’s really fun about falling in Love. If you could face yourself, you’d realise you have a bit of a God-complex within this context. In the sense that…because Love and romance actually aren’t such a big deal to you, and somehow, you have an almost all-too-natural inclination to attract the right people, you can’t really empathise with those who cry in the name of Love.

For some though, if the above doesn’t really resonate, you’re the type that has an innate understanding that you must protect yourself from falling into those tragical romantic setups. You have a highly developed sense of boundary and you keep high standards for what kind of a romantic relationship you want. You’re kinda similar to Pile 1 in this case, but you most likely haven’t experienced sacrificing your standards for, EXPERIENCE~

why do you chase, Love? – 10 of Wands

In comparison to certain types of people in the world, you’re not exactly a dreamy type. When it comes to relationships you think straight towards building a matrimony with someone. You’re a traditionalist in a sense. You’re the based kid who knows that a girlfriend-boyfriend relationship is a training ground for a marriage. You think long-term. You’re realistic like that. But the problem is…you’re totally missing out on the passion of Love itself.

You don’t really see your partner(s) for the person—the Human—that they are. You care only for the practical, pragmatic facts surrounding their reputation or status or whether or not their physical appearance is decent enough. Stuff like that. And the dreamy ones who look at you, look at you with a pang of sadness in their chest, for although you seem responsible and blessed…you appear to them as someone who looks at another with an eye of business.

You’re the type that thinks love is an investment. An investment of attention, affection, time and money, and all that shit. That’s not Love; that’s something to be exchanged at the market. The dating market, OMG~

‘Freedom and love go together. Love is not a reaction. If I love you because you love me, that is mere trade, a thing to be bought in the market; it is not love. To love is not to ask anything in return, not even to feel that you are giving something—and it is only such love that can know freedom.’ – Jiddu Krishnamurti

what happens when Love, dies? – 6 of Pentacles

When Love dies, you celebrate. You’re wise enough to know that Life doesn’t end just because you broke up with somebody, even in terms of friendship. You’re spiritually mature enough to know you’ve learnt from the experience, and now, you’re just going to prepare for the next big thing to experience. Life goes on without a hitch like that for you, for the most part. I can’t tell if you’re really that spiritually mature or you just don’t give a fuck about emotions LMAO

Not saying you’re a bad person, btw. It just seems like you haven’t got a lot of crazy in your birth chart or that you haven’t experienced a lot of sorrows and soul-shattering heartbreaks, so…it’s kinda just a matter of not having, PERSPECTIVE? Coupled with the fact that you take Life very unseriously seriously…? Like, you’re serious about not being an asshole and wanting to do the socially right thing, but in doing so, you become an annoying insincere jackass in the lives of those who have (or will) dated you XDD

Basically, you’re not the type to get super crazy heartbroken when a relationship ends. You’ve got all of these other blessings anyway. Why would you focus on just the negative, right? In a sense, I believe that’s an incredible spiritual maturity which others are still struggling to figure out XD But yeah…rather than this being something abnormal about you, I think it’s just that your Higher Self designed for you not to experience the dramatic highs and lows of immature romance HAHAH

MY HEART, MY PRIDE🔻🧡

sacrifices I’d made – Gold Alchemist (Roger Bacon)

I’m glad I was able to love – Priestess of Luck

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 3]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

[annie-creates]

I deserved it

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x reader

Genre: angst

Words: 1000

Note: This story is inspired by this amazing song so I'm very greateful to the person who used it for an Agatha edit. Please be aware there's a talk of scars in case it makes you uncomfortable.

When Agatha Harkness entered your apotheke on the outskirts of your town, you thought it must have been a mistake. She would never step into a mile radius of yours willingly. But she wasn’t alone, she had a young boy with her. A kid who was a little too excited to get on the path of death for your liking, but at the same time it intrigued you. It was clear Agatha herself didn’t really want to be here, but once he told you about the coven list, you understood she really didn’t have much of a choice. If she wanted to find the witch’s road, she needed a coven with you in it.

Against your better judgement, you came to the meeting point, other witches already gathering. Quite a weird group in your opinion, Agatha must have been desperate. You couldn’t fathom she’d choose any of them willingly. That’s how you got yourself into the shenanigans of trials and tests, each one crazier than the one before. You weren’t all exactly friendly with each other either, most of you having some old beef with Agatha. Which at least didn’t leave you alone in your reservations towards her.

In the chaos of the last trial Teen got hurt and you all rushed outside to tend to him in the calmer surroundings. Everyone seemed desperate to find something to help, but surprisingly most of all Agatha, who pushed Jen to come up with anything that would help. You stand by his side, calling to your healing powers your hands starting to glow.

„Don’t touch him!“ Agatha screams at you, the cruelty in her voice taking you back.

„Do you want him to live or not?“ You spit back after the initial shock, masking your hurt expression.

In the mean time Jennifer makes her makeshift potion, slowly healing his wound. You take a few steps back, still hurt by the refusal of your help. You watch as they take him to sleep, opting to help Lilia with setting up a campfire instead. She notices your sudden quietness but doesn’t comment on it. The day has been hard on all of you.

“He might get a scar from this one,” Alice comments as she and Jennifer return, leaving Agatha looking after the kid.

“I bet he’ll find it pretty cool,” you answer halfheartedly.

“Do you guys have any magical scars?” She asks, stirring up a friendly conversation. “You’ve already seen mine.”

“I have these from the bounds,” Jen admits showing her wrists with lines that were hardly visible now.

“Look at this,” Lilia shows the side of her neck. “It’s from a vampire… right before I knocked out his other tooth.”

That gets everyone laughing and you must chuckle a little. What a weird group, and yet you kinda did click together. Maybe the choosing wasn’t completely random after all. All covenless witches, renegades who didn’t fit into the society of the outside world. You hear Agatha’s steps before she sits down by the fire, an opportunity they can’t pass on.

“Do you have any battle scars Agatha?” Alice asks lightly.

“Check this out,” she unbuttons her sleeve rolling it up. “Knitting needle right to the elbow.”

“Wow,” Jennifer admires. “What about you Y/n?”

You slowly look up at her, being a little lost in your own thoughts to follow the conversation too closely. You debate yourself for a minute with a loud inhale and exhale, deciding to also share a little piece of your troubled past. So you open the first few buttons of your shirt. There, in the middle of your chest, lies a deep pink scar.

“Oh my god, where did you get that?” Jen asks surprised.

“Well… a long time ago, I had this… person. And I wasn’t able to protect someone very dear to them… so she promised to cut out my heart and never forgive me,” you admit, your eyes glossing over as you remember the painful memory.

“Wow that’s cruel,” Alice whispers taken back by your dark story.

“I guess I deserved it,” you shrug, suddenly feeling colder.

The other women shake their heads clearly disagreeing but it’s not their place to argue with you on your self-esteem and worth. Agatha stays quiet, remembering the day she almost cut your heart out for the loss of her son. Even now, decades later she couldn’t understand how you could fail the one time she really needed you, and it only strengthened her decision that she can’t trust anybody when it comes to important stuff.

You get up after a minute, too lost in your own mind to entertain the ladies. You walk through the forest, immediately missing the warmth of the fire. Were you a good person? Reliable? The people in your life now would surely say yes, the witches on the road didn’t know you enough to judge, and Agatha would definitely have a different opinion. So what’s the right answer? Could you even believe in yourself? If not, how could you ask others to?

Your mind travels back to earlier today when Agatha forbade you from helping, rather entrusting Teen’s life in the hands of a stranger than yours. Did she really think so little of you? That you’d hurt the kid? The answer came walking behind you, subtle rustling of leaves revealing her presence. With a spiteful feeling you think she came to make sure you didn’t poison the boy or something.

“You know, this road is like Switzerland…” Agatha waits for you to turn around and look at her. “So I won’t attack you here… If I don’t have to.”

“Oh what a relief…” you scoff, folding your hands over your chest.

“But don’t expect the same courtesy when we’re outta here,” she warns you. “I don’t want to have anything to do with you.”

“Wouldn’t imagine anything else,” you sigh.

“You were right you know?” she adds, already on her walk away from you. “You deserve much worse than just a scar.”

[rookiesbookies]

mischievous COD ideas😈

Heavily pregnant reader knowing that her hubby doesn’t want to be rough in the slightest with her due to her pregnancy and refrains from punishing her, so she abuses that fully to be a brat

To my sweet sweet brat reader, Im sorry if this is not all you hoped as I am a resident good girl. The one time I was a brat I got degraded (“such a good bitch”) and cried. I hope I do a good job portraying the relationships, if I dont let me know and I will edit it or rewrite sections that dont fit. You also didn’t specify so imma write for my usual set of lovelies. (Im also added Krueger because I’ve recently fallen in love with him a lil bit and he kinda fits thi)

The boys with pregnant brat wife

Price

This man is too worried about helping you get your shoes on. “You’re pregnant, isn’t not being able to see your feet punishment enough?” He’s not going to do much other than pinching you. Whether it’s your ass or your arm, and they’re hard “i had to discipline Soap subtly and im a dad” pinches. He’ll also use pressure points. Give the back of your arm the good pinch and twist. He’s just trying not to take it personally.

Soap

He’s googled what positions he can put you in. He’s googled if its safe for the baby. He has googled what he can and cannot do. He has spoke with your doctors about it, as embarrassing as that phone call was. And for certain punishments, its a long game. Like holding your ice cream you crave hostage until you learn. If he can’t make it sexual, he’ll find other ways.

Ghost

Like Price, he’s also using pressure points. Not the ones that knock you out but the ones that feel weird or make you got “ow”. Cannot get hard and it’s not because you’re not hot its bc he literally gets more flaccid than a limp noodle at the thought of possibly hurting that baby. He’s also very good at holding grudges and every time you brat out and walk all over him, he’s making a note on his phone for later.

Konig

Oh but he just got you to whine and cry you admit you want his cock. He knew eventually he could wait out your little game. “You acted out and now you must wait until I want to give it to you. You ask so nicely though, keep trying. I like when you beg.” He’s so mean, he’d make you wait until after you gave birth and however many times you acted out is how many weeks (or months depending on how he’s feeling) after you have to wait to get any pleasure from him.

Keegan

your toys aren’t doing it for you anymore? Nope. He’ll keep fluttering his fingers over you figure and let you use that tiny dildo he got you that cant even stretch you like he can. That’s all you get. His hands wont even go lower than your waist. They wont even touch close to your nipples. This is real torture. Every orgasm is so unfulfilling. I feel bad for you really. Hope this teaches you.

Gaz

He’s a doormat anyway. I don’t see him punishing anyone. He’s too much of a gentleman. I do believe he’d pull orgasm after orgasm out of you casually when you act up with his hands. Never giving you his dick as much as you beg. Pleading, crying for it, he wont budge. No you can deal with the consequences of your actions while he sits here and watches this movie. “Why aren’t you watching, love? You picked the movie. No, no, stop your whining, just sit and watch.”

Krueger

Sebastian doesn’t care. He’ll find other ways. Like right now you’re legs spread and hands flat against the wall as he spanks your ass, every time he does you have to say thank you and apologize for snapping at him. He knows you’re hormonal, but he’s going to make you apologize. Oh and he’s kissing away those tears and asking you if you understand what you do wrong while running you a nice bath and all the rubs and lotion for your poor butt.

Masterlist is pinned on profile as always, don’t forget to leave me a comment or a request in my inbox to let me know what yall want to see!

[littledovesnow]

the sound of snow

request: coriolanus with a girlfriend (wife in this case) who has hearing damange from the war

word count: 2.2k

content warnings: coriolanus being kinda awful in his speech but it's canon sooo, lucky flickerman trying to make a joke (spoiler: it doesn't land well), i think that's it?

a/n: ok i am not d/Deaf/HoH but i do have friends and former classmates who are, and i've done research before writing this. please correct me if i am wrong about anything. i left some things vague (such as hearing loss level), but overall i think it's decent?

also italics are when there's sign language being used :)

also also i had like three title ideas for this but i feel like they're all so bad but i liked this one the best

-----

Coriolanus had first met you back when you were both still wet behind the ears, unsure of how to navigate life after the Dark Days. His family had taken a direct hit when District 13 was no longer, his family’s fortune plundering into the depth unknown. Your family, however, had to face a different setback: a few rather close bomb blasts had stolen a majority of your hearing.

Coming from an affluent family, you were able to afford a private tutor growing up, teaching you and your family sign language, though as you grew old enough you were fit for a hearing aid in the left ear—the only one with enough hearing left to make it worthwhile.

All the while, you and Coriolanus never turned your backs on each other, choosing to let each other in on your trials and tribulations, knowing secrets were safe between the two of you. He had thus learned sign language from being in your home so often, Tigris and the Grandma’am having picked up on some of the more common phrases.

When you were both of age to begin at the Academy, your father fought tooth and nail with the Dean to ensure you were well-equipped with an interpreter when necessary, though you often went without one as you grew tiresome of the stares from your classmates.

During the 10th Annual Hunger Games, you say alongside Coriolanus as you two watched the tributes battle for victory, both celebrating when Lucy Gray was crowned the victor, both unaware of what fate waited your boyfriend the following day.

His stint in District 12 was something you two rarely spoke on, choosing to forget those few disastrous months while you were separated, you back in the Capitol studying at University while Coriolanus learned the hard way what it meant to be a Peacekeeper, to learn what it feels like to betray a friend, to learn what true power felt like.

Dr. Gaul had spoken to you prior to calling Coriolanus back to the Capitol, wanting your input if he would be a considerable candidate for her Gamemaker Apprenticeship, to which you informed her it was one of the biggest honors he would have wished for. Thus, Coriolanus was recalled back to the Capitol, back to you, where he stood alongside Dr. Gaul to prepare for years of Hunger Games, eventually landing as a true Gamemaker as Dr. Gaul began to take steps back in preparation for her retirement.

One day, however, Coriolanus had told her he was interested in becoming Panem’s next president, with Felix Ravinstill gone and no other heirs of the title, an election would take place. It was no surprise to the Head Gamemaker when the blonde brought the idea up, having seen him yearn and hunger for the coveted presidential position since he was fresh out of the Academy.

It came as no shock when he was announced at the Panem’s next president, you alongside of him as the First Lady. The country never knew what would become of the young couple, stars and revenge in their eyes.

-----

Coriolanus knew where he could find you once he returned from the Citadel, having met with Dr. Gaul for the upcoming 25th Hunger Games. He wanted them to be more of a spectacle than usual, to commemorate the quarter century since the end of the war.

He ignored the Avox who had opened the door to the private wing of the mansion, ignored the Avox who had his usual glass of whiskey waiting on a silver platter.

Opening the door to the greenhouse, Coriolanus’ eyes lit up as he saw you carefully pruning the rose bush planted in memorial of the Grandma’am. “Love?”

You looked up, and Coriolanus smiled when he realized your hearing aid was still in. You usually chose not to wear it while at home, preferring the comfortable silence from time to time.

“How was your day?” He asked, helping you untie the gardening smock you wore to protect the clothing underneath.

“It was fine, uneventful.” You replied, looking at the garden around the two of you. “How was Volumnia?”

Coriolanus was still gobsmacked that Dr. Gaul allowed his wife to call her by her first name, only a select few Capitol citizens were granted that honor, though he was one of them.

“She misses you, asked that you stop by sometime for lunch.” Coriolanus mused, plucking a rose out of the bunch in the vase. “Maybe you can help her come up with some new strategies for The Games, she loved your idea of stocking some food in the middle.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, not expecting the silly idea of arming the tributes with food to be such a hit in the Captiol. Betting had been at an all-time high for the tributes who had been able to get their hands on the stale, tasteless protein bars.

“I’ll see if she’s available on Thursday.” You knew the mad scientist would make room any day to meet with you. She had a soft spot for you, no one was quite sure why.

“You can ask her this evening, since we have that awful gala to start preparing for The Games.”

You looked at your husband, clearly forgetting about the gala. “I forgot that was tonight. I wouldn’t have pruned the roses if I had known.”

Coriolanus, who was cold-hearted and strict in public, simply waved off the nonissue. “You wore gloves, a smock, you look as beautiful as ever.”

You pressed your lips to his, disappearing to the bathroom for a shower prior to getting ready.

-----

 Attending Capitol galas and evening events as First Lady of Panem was something you weren’t sure you would ever get used to. Cameras flashing, various news outlets trying to get a snippet of you and Coriolanus talking, microphones in your faces.

Not that they would get anything, as Coriolanus was only going to give hints at his next political plans, life events, anything really, to Lucky Flickerman, who he had become rather close with following his mentorship in the Academy.

“D’you want anything to drink?” Coriolanus asked, lips brushing on the shell of your left ear.

Nodding, you two moved over to the bar for a couple glasses of posca before starting the endless circle of meeting politicians, thanking Capitol elites for their support, and the nagging question of when you two would start a family.

You had eventually been able to break free from the conversation you and Coriolanus were stuck in when Lucky Flickerman himself took the spot in behind the podium, preparing to start the night’s speeches.

Taking your seats, you felt Coriolanus place his arm on the back of your chair, hand brushing up and down the back your right bicep, goosebumps breaking out in the area.

As Lucky began his speech, you moved closer to your husband, whispering in his ear, “I can’t understand what he’s saying.”

Coriolanus looked back at you, noticing the missing hearing aid, eyebrow raised.

“I forgot to put it back in after my shower.”

Without missing a beat, Coriolanus shifted in his seat and began to interpret the speeches for you, ignoring the not-so-subtle looks you two were getting, mainly from newer guests who weren’t used to seeing the president use sign language.

At the conclusion of Lucky’s speech, a Capitol employee scuttled over to the First Couple.

“President Snow, we can have an Avox translate if you’d like.”

Frowning, Coriolanus shook his head. “That’s alright, I can interpret for my wife.”

The employee didn’t seem to expect that response, simply blinking at the couple.

“Is that a problem?” Coriolanus asked, ignoring your hand on his knee.

“N-no, not at all. I just- you’re expected to make a speech tonight, too.” The employee tried to backpedal, not wanting to ruin his career tonight.

You chose this moment to speak up, not wanting Coriolanus to overreact. “It’s fine, Coryo’s quite apt at making sure I know what’s going on. Why don’t you be a dear and get me a glass of wine?”

The employee was quick to leave the conversation, and Coriolanus looked at you. “You’re too kind to them.”

Shrugging, you took the full glass without so much as a glance in the employee’s direction. “Someone has to be.”

Coriolanus let out an airy laugh as he stood up, dusting off some nonexistent crumbs from his burgundy suit. He squeezed your arm before departing from your side, taking his place where Lucky Flickerman had left open, the weatherman-turned-host made sure to give his hand a shake as they exchanged pleasantries.

 Giving everyone a moment to settle down, Coriolanus cleared his throat before beginning, shocking nearly everyone in the room as he used both his voice and hands to conduct the speech.

“The Twenty-Fifth Hunger Games are right around the corner, so I thought I would give you all a twist I’m putting into the Reaping ceremony this year, and potentially the following Reapings. Dr. Gaul and I have had numerous discussions about how tributes are elected, and from prior games being rigged, we have initiated a couple updates to the ceremony and process.”

You were curious of the updates Coriolanus was talking about, unaware he was still dipping his toes into Gamemaking.

“Rather than each District’s mayor or elected spokesperson calling the names, we will have someone from the Capitol pull names. It will eliminate the possibility for rigging the tributes. In addition, who really wants to watch groups of children kill each other? With Reaping eligibility starting at age twelve, the Gamemakers and I have decided to increase the number of entries one gets as they age. When they reach the age of eighteen, each possible tribute will be entered into the Reaping six times.”

You weren’t able to hear everyone’s whispers, but you could see them looking at each other, taking in the news.

Coriolanus concluded his speech by introducing Dr. Gaul’s assistant, as the Head Gamemaker had something come up rendering her unable to attend the gala.

When he returned to your side, you looked him up and down. “Some updates, huh? Whose idea were they?”

Coriolanus had a smirk on his face, simply bringing his glass of posca to his lips.

-----

After all of the speeches were finished, some music began to play, letting the now tipsy and drunk Capitol elite take the dancefloor with eager steps.

Lucky Flickerman meandered over to where you and Coriolanus were still seated, discussing what Tigris deserved for her upcoming birthday.

“Not going to share a dance tonight?” He asked, looking between the two of you.

“Oh, Lucky, you should now, we don’t really dance. Only for the most special of occasions.” Coriolanus smiled, twisting the wedding band around his finger.

You wore a matching smile, though your reply wasn’t quite what Lucky expected. “And besides, Lucky, I’m not the best dancer if I can’t hear the music. You should have seen the first time we tried to dance together in the Academy.”  

The mustached man opened his mouth like he was going to reply, but nothing came out except for a chuckle.

Coriolanus hid his smile behind the glass of water he had switched to, not able to tolerate the posca and wine like he had before.

It was one of his favorite moments after you two had officially started dating. The Academy had their annual prom, though it tended to be more of a fashion show than dance, as many students arrived in extravagant outfits that were ill-suited for dancing.

You had been in a sparking silver dress, heels a gift from your mother, red-tinted lips dropping when Coriolanus asked you to dance with him.

It had been enough missteps to last a lifetime, but the two of you took it in stride, promising each other to get a proper dance instructor before your first dance at the wedding years later.

“I do hate to break up the fond memory, honey, but we should be heading out.”

Coriolanus downed the rest of his water before standing, lending you his arm as you two bid goodnight to your friends and Coriolanus’ closest colleagues, before disappearing from the gala.

-----

You walked out of the bathroom from taking your makeup off to see Coriolanus sitting on the bed, sheets pulled back for your arrival.

“Who are you thinking will be the Capitol’s representative for the Reaping?” You asked, mind still going back to the Reaping updates.

Coriolanus closed the book he was reading, eyes looking you up and down as you climbed into the bed. “I don’t know yet. Why, do you have anyone in mind?”

You shrugged, pulling the sheets up to your chest, yawn escaping your lips. “No one in particular, but I’m sure I could come up with some names.”

Coriolanus laughed, setting his book on the nightstand next to him. “We can talk about it when you’re not going to fall asleep in mere minutes. Goodnight, love.”

“Mm, ‘night, Coryo.” You whispered, letting Coriolanus’ soft breathing and the distant sounds of sirens lull you to sleep.

-----

a/n: hey was this good should i do more in this universe let me know

[knight-says-rollout]

Would you mind telling us about more disabled Cybertronians?

Oh boy would I

For this list let’s focus on physical disabilities, both because they’re the most commonly dismissed by the fandom and bc if we try to cover everything we’d be here all day (that can be another list, maybe, if y’all want)

This isn’t going to be comprehensive bc I’m tired but!! I will aim for a broad variety of examples nonetheless

Bumblebee - You all know him, you all love him. He’s the most obvious and most well known example of a disabled Cybertronian character.

In many iterations he is mute

Not by choice but because he lacks a voice box. Bee physically isn’t capable of speech and depending on the version has different tools to work around that. Sometimes he uses his radio to repurpose song and radio dialogue into speech, in cyberverse he also makes use of the internet for clips. In the aligned continuity (tfp and connected media) he speaks in binary, a very simplified form of language using beeps and buzzes, but still lacks a real voice and can’t form words.

In IDW he has a cane

At one point in the comics Bumblebee was shot by a human protester and as a result used a cane for a good bit of time. I haven’t had the chance to read that far into IDW yet so I’m not sure how long he had the cane for but it was enough time that it’s a solidified part of the charcaters history. I’ve seen little models of the cane for sale, to be paired with bee figures.

TFP Ultra Magnus - everyone’s favorite awkward commander, despite his popularity he’s surprisingly overlooked when it comes to this discussion

An amputee, he lost his hand

During an energon raid with wheeljack, magnus’ hand was crushed. Ratchet couldn’t save it and had to amputate, replacing it with a hooked prosthetic. I call it a prosthetic rather than replacement part because despite him being able to move it, it’s not a hand. Not in the way he had previously, and he has to relearn how to use it at all.

I think that’s an important distinction to make when discussing disability and transformers. Some bots might have only ever had one hand, or no legs, or etc but that’s always been their level of ability and since they Are robotic. Yeah they might not have the same capabilities as another bot but that’s a hard metric to go by. Seekers can fly but a grounder isn’t disabled because they can’t fly too, it’s a different standard.

WFC Shamble - far lesser known than Magnus, and reasonably so, this background character is Also missing a limb

Amputee, leg edition

His prosthetic is a lot less fancy than magnus’s, it’s a simple peg leg. Put em together and you get a pirate. Not much to say about him since i don’t know how he lost the leg, just that he did.

Shadow Striker - Most awesome lady in cyberverse. Unlike the above two, she Was able to get actual replacement parts rather than prosthetics. Despite this, she is both shown throughout the show and implied to have

Impaired mobility

Chronic pain

She was able to get replacement parts yes but they were needed because she was blown up. The limbs she was given were kinda just what the others could Find and as such are mismatched and don’t fit her very well. Her motor skills took a blow especially when it comes to combat, something she used to excel in. Her new limbs are described as unstable and prone to malfunction. The loss of mobility and implied chronic pain that come along with her situation are rough, but she makes do.

SG Soundwave - my favorite little guy, he’s in a bit of a different situation than the previous.

Bad Joints ™

His body was entirely overhauled multiple times, successfully, but the latest frame change was done with conflicting metals. Earth and Cybertronian materials clash in his joints, making them prone to getting stopped up. The most affected hinge being the one on the door to his tape deck. It is so prone to getting stuck that his cassettes refuse to dock with him at risk of getting trapped. To work around this, Soundwave has the aid of a personalized case he carries around that they dock in instead.

IDW Sunstreaker - speaking of assistive devices, this guy was (for a time) a wheelchair user! Or,, hoverchair.

Temporary,,, paraplegic? Correct me if another term fits better

Taking this moment for an aside to say hey!! Lookit that, both canes and hoverchairs are things that canonically and casually exist on cybertron!! It’s not too wild to assume there are bots out there who use them long term!! Yes both characters on this list were repaired eventually but they’re also both very popular old characters from an action based franchise and hasbro doesn’t have the balls to make something like that permanent yet. We the fandom are not hasbro. We can do whatever we damn want with our OCs. It’s canon that ur little guy can use mobility aids.

Ok, PSA over, anyway yeah Sunny’s body was basically wrecked and alpha trion was able to repair all of him except his legs. This put him in a hoverchair for a good amount of time.

Finback - he’s a con, a pirate, who developed a “metal wasting disease”

He’s on permanent life support

The disease is going to kill him eventually, and it’s explicitly stated that he’s come to terms with the idea of his death. In the meantime he’s using pretender tech, kinda like fancy armor, to reinforce himself and boost his immune system

Perceptor - for a microscope, the fact he’s got vision issues in multiple continuities is kinda ironic

He’s fully blind in cyberverse

He lost an eye in IDW

Between the two we get to see both routes taken to work with this. Adaption and technological aid. In cyberverse he uses his scope to compensate for the loss of vision Toph-style. In IDW he built himself a monocle that basically replaces the pieces that are missing.

Now we get into the uniquely Cybertronian disabilities, one’s that don’t quite translate to human conditions

Transmutate - is a beloved bot from beast wars

They can’t transform, they don’t have an alt mode

I’m hazy on the details of their character but afaik they came from a damaged stasis pod. Described as deformed and handicapped for their both their lack of an alt mode and general appearance, they are probably the oldest explicitly disabled Cybertronian character

Xaaron - from G1 is in a similar situation

He can’t transform, it would kill him

Unlike transmutate he does have an alt mode, a tank, but after thousands of years without transforming he is no longer able to. The new stress it would cause on his body would kill him.

Broadside - continuing with the subject of alt modes, this clumsy boy is a boat! That’s not a good thing.

He’s very prone to motion sickness

As you can imagine, chronic sea sickness isn’t the most helpful thing when you are the boat. This brings in the entirely new element of mobility issues that are inherent to alt modes. A bot that functions fine in root form might not in alt mode and vice versa.

Trailbreaker - is another instance of this. He’s not a fast car by any means but that doesn’t stop the fact

His frame has a very high energon cost

Possibly the least fuel efficient autobot, he’s got an outlier ability on top of it all that only further increases his required energon intake. He needs to pay more attention to his energon levels and refuel more often overall.

G1 Knockout - yes that’s right the shiny medic himself is on this list, though not for the same reason as his tfp version, g1 knockout still lives up to his name

He’s prone to fainting

A knockout in the more literal sense, he faints when he gets too excited. Fully collapses and everything. Since he’s a fall risk, his teammates take care to keep an eye on him.

Annnnd Yknow he probably should’ve been earlier in the list along with the “human-ish” issues but I’m tired, it’s late, and I’m bringing this list to a close

Im sure there are more characters that I didn’t mention but I hope this helped! Thank you for the ask