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howlett-n-morgan · 2 days ago

Text

More Than Words

3. An Advantageous Journey

Logan Howlett x OC!Reader

Series Summary: Having lived for over two hundred years and never having the privilege of human touch is the biggest burden imaginable... until someone comes along with the healing ability to withstand the touch of death.

Chapter Warnings: mild language, mentions of scars and blood, a few traumatic events and ptsd symptoms, mostly fluff in this one guys… but LOGAN IS A WARNING. Oh and also I’m not from Canada and only have one Canadian friend so my apologies if Canada is depicted poorly… she was like ‘it’s just like America except there’s more snow and some people speak French’

Chapter Summary: Going back to Canada is supposed to be a quick trip that benefits Logan’s memory, but upon arriving, he seems to think that a fews days need be spent on diversions.

Word Count: 15.3k (God help me-)

“Then how were they able to cut you up?” Poor phrasing, but he was never one for a gentle touch in his wording. “Same way you were able to,” you reminded him, rolling up your sleeve to show where his claw marks had almost completely healed over. “Adamantium.” “Adamantium? You’re kidding,” he almost found it funny, the irony of it all. He’s the only one who can touch you, but he’s also the only one who can hurt you. “How’d they figure that out?”

The professor was the first one to speak to Logan the morning you both planned on leaving the mansion. Everyone was made aware of this, but few people understood why it was so necessary. Even Scott, who had endured some of the same treatment as you and Logan, did not know how to justify such a spontaneous trip in the midst of all the chaos surrounding mutants. Especially after the recent situation with Magneto.

It could be dangerous, but above all things, it could also bring answers. And Logan needed answers. About who he was, what he did, and where he’s supposed to go, now. The pain from his nightmares has subsided only a small bit while being here with everyone. He wants to make them go away for good.

When Charles sits him down in the study that morning, he thinks he understands why. You’re a very important member of the team. He wants to make sure you return, and without a scratch. It makes sense in his mind… but the professor has other ideas for the conversation.

“How long do you both plan on being away?” He asks, keeping a tether on Logan’s mind in case he is even the slightest bit dishonest.

“Not sure,” he began with a sigh, sitting back into the seat he’d been given. “I guess it depends.”

“On what, exactly?” Charles kept his questioning thorough, but not for the reason of interrogating him.

“On what we find.” Logan shrugged his shoulders and raised a brow. He really had no idea what he was going into when you said you’d take him to Stryker’s old bunker. “Guessing from the nightmares I’ve had, it’s not really a nice place.”

“Well, I assure you,” Charles began, turning his chair to the side and reaching for some documents on his desk. “You are in the best of hands. The very best. I just hope you know how lucky you really are.”

“Lucky? How so?” Logan’s curiosity wandered. He knew you were a valuable member of the team, and he was grateful that you would offer him such a strenuous task on your own shoulders, but he caught on that there was more that Charles hadn’t spoken.

“Alice is a rare mutant. Like you, she can stand the tests of time, and never waiver. She is nearly immortal, and takes her job of protecting others very seriously.”

“I picked that up,” Logan nodded in agreement. “She cares a lot about saving people.”

“She cares even more for those who are close to her,” the old man warned, his expression becoming more solemn and serious. “She will go to incredible lengths to keep her loved ones out of harm’s way.”

Logan was beginning to wonder where the point was in all of this. He knew you were the type to look out for others above yourself. You were an X-man, it kind of came as a job requirement… but more than that, he knew you were kinder than most people were, and the help you extended to him was not just a simple favor.

“She has never experienced a bond like she has with you… with human touch.”

He understands now. Your powers, and the impact they have had on you is immense. You have to keep everyone at arm’s length, except for him. He can be let in, and he can do the things that others can’t.

“What exactly are you telling me?” Logan pondered, gruffly. Even with the professor’s point being made, he was still curious as to why he would bring this all up.

“I’m telling you to be careful. She’s already grown strongly attached to you for the sake of your touch, and will likely become fonder in these days to come. I ask you to think about and consider her feelings when you take her with you… If you hurt her, the consequences would be unimaginable.”

Logan does consider them, for a split second he considers them. He knows you’re fond of him, otherwise this escapade would not even be happening… but he also knows that his ability to touch you is the defining factor. His feelings for someone else block out any signs that your interest in him could further develop, at least past what it is already. Even with all this in mind, Logan is a smartass, and wants to tempt the man in charge by challenging his threat.

“I can imagine quite a bit,” he smirked, nodding his head side to side.

Charles did not take that comedically whatsoever, and Logan didn’t really expect him to. It was probably a bad idea to open his mouth in the first place.

“You mock me when I’m trying to help you?”

“No sir,” he let out with a breath.

“The consequences I speak of would not be dealt by I or any of her colleagues…”

“Then by who?” Logan asked, his voice not raised, but becoming more prominent as the conversation became more pointed than it was before. “Is there some big bad monster I should be worried about?”

Charles sighed. He wasn’t getting anywhere, and Logan only seemed to become irritated the more he spoke. He took a glance into the man’s mind, and found that a beautiful woman with long red hair rested among his thoughts, though he should not be thinking about the woman that is most definitely taken.

“I can see that your mind is clouded by thoughts of someone else,” Xavier changed the subject, tapping into the specific thoughts and trying to gather more details. It appears this conversation was mostly for nothing. Charles sighs, “Do not hurt Alice, Logan. If you do, her pain will become yours.”

“I won’t hurt her,” Logan stood up, assuming this was the last of the professor’s advisory words. He was becoming quickly annoyed with how little the man trusted him, and how intrusive he’d been this whole time.

He wouldn’t lead you on, but he wouldn’t shut you out, either. You’d been so helpful to him, he wasn’t going to push away the one piece of his past that just might bring everything together. That would be foolish of him.

“Logan,” The professor stopped him one more time, and he turned to look at the man, sitting straight and with a firm gaze from his wheelchair. “When the time is right, ask her about a man named Charlie.”

Logan sighed, filing that thought away in his mind before heading back upstairs to pack some of his belongings together.

You never wanted to go back to Canada.

You swore after you got out the first time that nothing good could ever come out of Canada and you stuck to that belief.

But you’d met Logan in Canada, and he wasn’t so bad. Scott, too… although he’d been a teenager at the time and was much more annoying back then.

“On your way already?” Ororo was leaning in your doorway when you looked up, watching you stuff your travel backpack until it could barely zip up on the side.

“About to be,” you heaved it up onto your back, adjusting your posture to hold it correctly, then walked to meet her at the door. “I wasn’t going to leave without saying goodbye.”

She grabbed your hand, covered in your little green gloves. “Keep in touch, will you?”

“I will, I promise,” you nodded gently. “I won’t stay away for long.”

“You say that now,” she crossed her arms and shook her head jokingly. “But going away with a guy that looks like that? And he’s the only man in the world that can touch you? Baby, I’ll be lucky if I ever see you again.”

You laughed along with her, giving a warm smile and a nod. “He’s something…”

“He’s ready to go,” Logan teased, coming up behind Ororo.

You blushed, knowing he probably heard the conversation while leaving his room. You avoided making eye contact with him yet, just gave a thin lip smile while looking back to your dear friend and saying your last goodbyes. You only wished you could hug her close to you, for all the years she’s spent in your corner.

“I guess I’ll see you around, Ro.”

“Don’t be a stranger… Call me when you can.” She gave you a strong look, indicating that she was serious, and not just playing along for the sake of goodbyes.

“You know I will…” you trailed, giving her one more squeeze of the hand before walking behind Logan towards the stairs.

Once at the bottom, there was just a slight obstacle. Rogue caught you both leaving, and had a few words to say.

You’d admit, you felt bad leaving her here, especially when you’d been so adamant to her before that you were going to teach her about her powers and how to get used to them without the fear of hurting others. It’s only now that you realize you won’t be able to help in the most detrimental stages of her mutant education… but you would return. You knew you would.

You had to help Logan, first. He was the priority. He saved your life once, and it was time to pay that debt forward.

Logan had left his dog tags with Rogue, along with a promise that he would be back. Of course he would… Or maybe he wouldn’t. You never thought about what could happen if he should find his memories and remember who he is. He might have loved ones and a family to return to…

“She’s got a crush on you,” you mentioned to him once you were out of the house. You looked at him, and he seemed unsurprised. “And she trusts you…”

“I figured that much,” he smirked, walking towards the main garage around the side of the large house.

“Did you mean it?”

“Did I mean what?” He turned to ask you, his features twisted in confusion.

You sighed, stopping at the garage door but making no motion to use the lock pad to open it.

“When you said you were going to come back…” you trailed, scanning your thumb print on the pad so the door would fold up. State of the art technology for the lock, but the same old door from the seventies.

It took him longer than you expected to answer the question, but you figured since it held some weight, it was good that he thought it out clearly.

“Yeah, I meant it.”

You looked to him, the decision he made was worn on his face and it was easy to see he was telling the truth.

“Good,” you nodded, walking inside first and grabbing your keys from your pocket. Logan immediately gave you a glance of mischief, and walked in the other direction.

“Logan, no…”

“Logan, yes,” he taunted, going over to sit on the motorcycle that belonged to Scott. You weren’t going to play this game with him.

“We are not going all the way to Canada on a bike.” You were trying to be the reasonable one here, but he was so damn stubborn. Two could play that game, you were stubborn, too. “Get in the car.”

“Get on the bike,” he nodded behind him, the open seat looking appealing for only a moment. “I know you want to…”

“No, I don’t…” you opened the driver’s side door, and climbed in, shutting it behind you… but he didn’t budge from the damn motorcycle.

When he turned it on, the engine roaring to life and revving from the motions of his hand, you closed your eyes for a split second before doing the worst thing you could have possibly done. You climbed out of the car and went to the motorcycle, swinging a leg over and holding onto him with a big huff. He knew you did it for show, not because you were actually upset.

“Comfy?” He threw a smirk over his shoulder, and you huffed again for emphasis.

“No.”

He just laughed, pulling out of the garage and onto the road.

You would admit, the wind in your hair, and the lovely smell of the pine trees lining the streets was wonderful. All the sights on the way to your destination were quite lovely, and though you could see them from your car just the same, it wouldn’t feel like this.

This feels like flying, almost, with the breeze beneath your wings, and the sounds of nature as you pass through.

Logan can almost sense your smile when you drive by a particular area full of color changing aspens, the scenery surrounding you felt almost like a dream, something from out of a movie.

He never said anything to taunt you about being right, or made a comment about how much you seemed to be enjoying yourself. It was silent between you both for hours, until the sun began had set, and you’d finally crossed the border into Canada.

“We’re gonna have to stop soon for the night,” he mentioned when you’d pulled off the road to get something to eat. Just a little rest-stop… gas stations, fast food, the works. You’d spotted a sign a few miles back for a motel, but weren’t sure where to go in order to get there.

“Fill up the tank, I’ll go inside and ask about directions,” you told him, swinging your leg off of the bike and walking away.

He was certain that this dynamic between the two of you was working well already, and that he didn’t need to heed Charle’s words as much as he originally intended. You seemed to go with the flow of things, and were rather easy to get along with… and you didn’t seem to be super into him like the professor said you would be. You cared about him, sure… but he cared about you too, and without crossing any lines.

Filling up the bike, he leaned against the metal machinery, his head dozing back and forth from his tired state. It wasn’t until you returned, holding a map and a bag of gas station pastries that he was fully aware again.

“The guy marked that motel out for me on the map,” you said, unfolding the paper and showing it to him, the red marker lining the road and the turn off. “It’s two exits down.”

“Easy enough.” He took a look at the marked location for himself, waiting for the gas pump to finish topping off the tank.

“I got you a donut,” you said, handing him a paper bag like your own. You’d pulled a maple donut from yours, so he was appalled to find that his was not also a maple donut.

“Chocolate?” His eyebrows raised, only teasing you, but still just slightly butthurt about the donut.

“You don’t like chocolate?” You furrowed your eyebrows, talking with your mouth full of the first bite you took.

“Did they not have any other maple glazed?” he nodded to yours, the joking nature still filling his tone.

“This was the last one.” You reasoned. You found it a little funny, but felt a little bad at the same time.

He huffed, shaking his head, but then you smiled sweetly, holding out the donut with a single bite taken to him.

“I’ll trade you,” you offered, knowing that in the end, it was just a donut compared to the grand scheme of things.

“Thanks,” he muttered gratefully, a sideways smile spreading on his cheeks. He’ll admit, it was a sweet gesture, no matter how small. He handed you the chocolate donut, and took a bite out of the one you gave him. “Maple donuts are for real Canadians.”

“You’re Canadian?” you asked, a bit of surprise coming from you. You met him in Canada, but it was somehow still a shock to you. He seemed very American when you first met him, and even now.

“S’one of the only things I can remember,” he nodded, his demeanor livening up quickly, and all because of a donut.

“Huh,” you stared off, wondering if he’d known Stryker for long before his memory faltered. Clearly he’d been abused by the man, but to what extent, you weren’t sure. You have bits and pieces of memories from that era, and most were just feelings of the energy around you.

“You didn’t know?”

“You didn’t tell me…” you trailed, enjoying the chocolate donut, despite maple donuts being better. Him enjoying it was satisfying enough.

“We should get out of here,” he yawned, crumpling up the paper bag and tossing it into a nearby trash can. “Road is dark, and I’m tired.”

“Big, strong, manly… but gets tired on a little road trip?” You teased, finishing up the pastry before throwing away the trash and getting back on the bike with him.

“You try steering this thing all day.” He threw a smirk over his shoulder, revving the engine.

“I would, if you’d let me,” you chided, another taunt that you knew wouldn’t end in your favor. He’d never be caught dead on the back of a motorcycle like this with someone else behind the handles.

“Not a chance…”

Having checked into the small motel, you ached for a shower, but given that Logan was practically falling asleep already, you let him go first.

Maybe it was a mistake, he’d been in there for a while, and you thought maybe all the hot water would be gone by the time it was your turn. You just hoped he hadn’t fallen asleep in there, propped against the shower wall.

You might just shower tomorrow at this point, unwilling to wait for the water to heat back up.

With a sigh, you changed into something a little more comfortable, the pair of sweatpants and sweater that were shoved to the bottom of your giant backpack. It was wrinkled as all hell from the journey, but you knew that didn’t matter. It was cozy, and warm, and being in Canada as late fall was setting in meant you needed to be as warm as possible.

You curled up on the queen bed closest to the heater with your book, which you’d deemed necessity enough to bring on this escapade to another country.

When Logan finally emerged, he’d adorned a pair of flannel pants, and a gray t-shirt, which was admittedly a bit small for him. The fabric hugged his body a bit tighter than he was used to, but good lord almighty… this man looked stunning.

The dim light from the bathroom, mixed with the warm glow from your bedside lamp while you read, it made him look like he glistened. The stray water drops on his face and neck, and the quickly curling upwards strands of his damp hair. You never guessed that his hair just did that naturally. You found yourself staring a little too long, and as soon as Logan picked up on it, dropping the towel he used to dry his hair, he chanced a look in your direction. Quickly your eyes found the pages of your book again, and you kept a straight face, hoping nothing would be said about it.

“That a good book?” he smirked, knowing that you could barely even focus on it a second ago.

“Mhm,” you zoned in on the words, reading them over and over, but none of what they mean stuck in your head. You could only think about what you just saw, and what you still could see if only you turned your gaze.

“It looks old,” he commented on the bent pages and old fabric cover. It looked worn and well loved.

“It is old. I got it on the day it was released in nineteen fifty-three.”

He whistled lowly, his eyebrows raising in surprise. “You read it a lot?”

“Once a year,” you mumbled, still acting engrossed with the page you’d been stuck on since he entered the room. “It’s my favorite book.”

“What’s it about?” He sat down on the edge of his bed, leaning forward and looking at you tiredly. He was exhausted, wasn’t he? Why didn’t he just say goodnight and go to bed?

“The future… the way the author thinks our societies will begin to crumble,” you explained, turning towards him and letting the book fall on your chest, pages still open. “Books will be outlawed, and a group called the firemen will be required to burn any that are found.”

“Sounds interesting… also sounds a little miserable. Why’s it your favorite?” He grinned, throwing his sheets and blankets up and lying beneath them, keeping his head propped up on his hand so he wouldn’t fall asleep yet. The warm glow of your bedside lamp cast him in such a pretty glow…

“I think it feels very real to me, in a way…”

“You think books are gonna be outlawed?” He laughed slightly, clearly finding himself misunderstanding your meaning.

“No, but with the way things are playing out, it feels like a projection of what’s to come. Of course, they will make the enemies of the future out to be mutants, not books.”

“And these… firemen,” he put finger quotes around the word, trying to be hypothetical about the situation. “You think there will be groups like that?”

“Mutant hunters? Absolutely… They’re already out there, just look at what happened to us,” you sighed, the facts of the matter weighing you down, even though it had been a pleasant conversation. You enjoyed talking about your favorite book, but everyone in the mansion had already heard about it a thousand times. It was refreshing to get a new audience to share thoughts with.

“I never thought about it that way…” he furrowed his brow, his eyes drooping with every second passed. He had to be fighting sleep for his life.

“Mutants are supposed to be the future… but we’ll never see that future if we have to battle extinction.”

He didn’t reply, his mind elsewhere. You watched him carefully, his face looking deep in thought. You returned to your book by the time he finally spoke up again.

“You’ll have to let me borrow that book sometime,” he rolled over as he said it, so when you glanced over at him, his back was facing you. “G’night, Alice.”

“Night, Logan…”

In the morning, you woke up later than usual, no alarm clock or imminent threat looming to pull you from your slumber. It was nice, being able to wake up naturally for the first time in years. You felt so well rested that you nearly forgot where you were. The chill air of the morning surrounded you just outside of the thick blankets and sheets you were under, but it wasn’t unpleasant, it was refreshing.

When you opened your eyes, you began to recall everything slowly. Sitting up, you find that Logan isn’t in the bed across from you, or in the room at all. You furrow your brow and stand to your feet, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes when a note catches your eye.

Placed on a tiny table by the janky minifridge, there’s a paper bag and a torn off napkin with some words scribbled on it.

Be back soon… got you something.

Inside the paper bag was a maple donut. It looked really good, too. Much better than the fifty-cent one you’d traded to him the night before.

You smiled and took a bite, eating while going about your morning routine, wanting to shower and get ready to leave the motel. You weren’t sure what Logan was up to, but with him being Canadian and all, you’re sure he’s just happy to be back.

He knocked on the door, the latch lock seeming to have been flipped over when he left.

You dropped your change of clothes back onto your bed, running over to the door and letting him in. He seemed to have a relaxed grin on his face, and looking at his clothing, there was a light sheen of icy water coating his leather jacket.

“C’mere,” he pulled you along, completely barefoot and still in your pajamas.

Once outside, you saw that the grounds were covered with just a small dusting of snow. It wasn’t thick, or freezing, but it was still falling around you, and you suddenly didn’t mind getting dragged away from the warm room.

“It’s snowing already?” You asked in confusion, as if he had the answer.

“It’s Canada, what did you expect?”

You just continued to enjoy the pretty sights around you, then realized your feet were still bare and you were likely going to make yourself sick if you didn’t go back inside.

“Let me go shower and we can check out,” you muttered, looking at him and finding he was just as captured by the beauty of a quickly approaching winter wonderland.

“I’ll make sure the bike is thawed out,” he joked, nodding to you.

After you went back inside, he walked around to the front to where the bike was parked in the covered area. It wasn’t too cold, but it would still need some time for the metal to heat up. He’d been able to start the motor not too long after, and pulled it around the side of the motel to be closer to where you had stayed.

He should have knocked before going inside, and he regrets not doing so, but upon opening the door to you half dressed, having yet to pull up your jeans, he seems to be frozen in place. You don’t notice him at first, and with the second glance he gets, he sees all the scars littered over your legs and hips. He remembers the first night when you’d put all the pieces together, knowing you’d met him before. You knew about his past, and he got a peek into yours. You'd told him a man named Stryker gave you those scars.

“Shit, Logan…” You trailed, yanking up your jeans faster and hopping your feet to speed up the process. When you noticed he’d just been standing there you panicked, and nearly fell down trying to get your pants up. “Don’t you knock?”

“I’m sorry,” he blinked himself out of it, furrowing his brow and dripping his eyes. He had to physically shake himself from the trance. “I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine,” you stopped him, grabbing your things and packing them away, sliding your backpack on and walking past him. Your hair was still wet from your shower, but you didn’t want to stay inside and let the moment linger any longer. “Let’s get out of here, we still have a long way to drive.”

The hike through the fresh snow had been a little uncomfortable, mostly happening in silence. Since this morning, you’d barely spoken a word to him. You’d ridden miles and miles on the back of the bike without talking. Usually he was the silent type himself, but he’d felt bad for what happened, even after apologizing, so he decided it rested on his shoulders to break the quiet streak.

“I’ve been thinking… those scars,” he tried to broach the subject lightly, looking at you with a careful eye. “You’d said you were bulletproof, and fireproof. I had it in my head that you were impenetrable.”

“I am,” you gave him a flat stare, nodding your head a little.

“Then how were they able to cut you up?”

Poor phrasing, but he was never one for a gentle touch in his wording.

“Same way you were able to,” you reminded him, rolling up your sleeve to show where his claw marks had almost completely healed over. “Adamantium.”

“Adamantium? You’re kidding,” he almost found it funny, the irony of it all. He’s the only one who can touch you, but he’s also the only one who can hurt you. “How’d they figure that out?”

You kept on with your trek through the forest, the explanation rolling around in your head before you told him aloud.

“They’d been trying to take me apart for years, and all I’d do is rot in a cell… then they found a mutant called Lava, and she was the only person who could melt the adamantium they’d discovered. I guess they ran out of options with me… so,” you sighed, raising your eyebrows and trying to keep composure while talking about it. Opening up to him did little to help his own memory, but you did so anyway. Because he asked. “They coated a surgical set in adamantium to see what would happen… and it worked. They started taking parts of me wherever I could spare them.”

He had come to a slow stop, but you hadn’t noticed, continuing through the forest on your own, trying to make it to the edge of the lake before it got too dark. You at least wanted to pinpoint the location for tomorrow’s journey through the past.

You turned around to see him standing dead still, a look on his face the likes of which you couldn’t decipher… What was he thinking behind those pretty eyes?

“Logan, you okay?”

He blinked out of his thoughts. You wondered if maybe he was remembering something and you’d stopped him.

“Yeah, I just,” he shook his head and caught up with you, the solemn look not leaving his face. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

You shrugged, keeping in stride with him, not falling behind or going ahead this time. The conversation helped ease the awkwardness that came before in the silence. “It’s alright. It was a while ago… besides, you were the one who saved me, you don’t need to be the one apologizing.”

The hike kept on in a much more comfortable silence. The sun would be going down soon, and you didn’t want to spend the night out in the woods, especially when it had been starting to snow today.

When you came across the small stream, leading to the edge of the lake, you picked up speed.

“Should be right up here,” you told him, leading the way through the mucky ground, moist with melted snow and mud.

You’d seen it before he did. You stopped in your tracks the second you looked across.

He caught up, taking a look for himself, but quickly growing concerned with howtense and unmoving you were. Your expression had changed from the relaxed one it had been wearing to a firm yet frightened stare. It was eerily quiet, and you couldn’t move your feet. Your hands balled into fists and one at a time, the memories of this place came rushing back. Just seeing the base, abandoned and covered in rust, was enough to make you want to cry. You felt all the loneliness, all the pain, and all the lost hope that used to plague you in this very place.

“You okay, kid?” Logan came closer, and you nodded, putting on a brave face and turning to him with a forced look of calmness.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you even managed a stiff smile, but you refused to turn back towards the base, letting your shoulder have the pleasure of the view instead. “It’s getting dark, though.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, watching as you were quickly back on the path you came from, trying to keep the composure that you weren’t sure would hold. “Alright.”

He trailed on after you, and just before the sun was all the way below the mountains, you’d managed to get back to the road. The bike was cold again, but thankfully it started without a problem.

He’d tried too hard to get to a comfortable place with you, but again he felt back at square one, sitting in awkward silence like he did this morning. Your hold on him wasn’t as tight as usual, and you didn’t seem to care how unsteady it was with every turn of the bike.

You rode down the street about ten miles or so before coming across a small fishing town, with restaurants, bars, neighborhood markets, and even a cozy little motel. Much better looking than the one you’d stayed in the night previous.

He’d been the one to get checked in tonight, getting everything settled and making sure you were comfortable. You still weren’t in a chatty mood, but you’d loosened up just enough to have civil conversation, and answer the questions he would ask you.

He let you take the first shower tonight, and you were out in only a few minutes, racing to get tucked into bed as quickly as possible.

He took his time, knowing you were probably just going through the motions of being here, and he needed to let you experience it at your own pace. After all, you remember this place, and he doesn’t. The only thing he recalls are the torturous nightmares that plague his sleep. That alone tells him all he needs to know about the horrors and chaos this place caused.

He’s surprised to find you still awake when he gets out of the shower, towel around his hips and water running over his body. He thought you’d be asleep, so out of habit he didn’t bring his clothes in with him to change.

He sees you’re reading your book, the one about the future. You’re so engrossed in it, your eyes never leaving the pages. He wonders if it’s a coping tool, a comfort item of sorts. He’d never thought of a book as a security blanket before, being written words on paper.

He didn’t say anything yet, unwilling to interrupt how calm you seemed to be now. Just grabbed his clothes and went back to the bathroom.

Maybe going back there tomorrow isn’t a good idea. He appreciates the openness of your heart to do such a favor for him, but he doesn't want to cause you distress for his own gain. You’ve shown him where it is. He knows how to find it on his own, now. If he can convince you to stay back here, he’ll go on his own, find the answers himself.

When he emerges the second time, you’ve laid your book down on the bedside table, placing a bookmark between the worn pages before settling yourself. He sits down on the edge of his own bed, and makes eye contact. You don’t break it first, but you remain silent. A man of few words, but he seemed to be the more chatty one today.

“I didn’t say anything before, but you seemed a little, uh… scared, earlier.”

You didn’t change the expression you wore, but somehow he could feel the shift in your emotions. He just wanted to ask and see if this was too much for you.

“I wasn’t scared, just remembered some stuff is all,” You sighed out, laying down and still looking over at him here and there, but not willing to speak more than what you’d said.

“You wanna talk about it?”

It was an open offer, but he already knew the answer. For someone who seemed so extroverted and talkative when he met you, you’d somehow turned into a reserved and silent little girl since this morning.

“No…” You trailed, the word coming out soft and gentle.

“Okay,” he nodded, getting comfortable before rolling over and calling out to you as you turned out the light. “Goodnight…”

“Night, Logan.”

In the morning, you were already awake, clinging to your knees as you focused very hard on looking out the window by your bed. When he looked at the clock and read six, he figured you must not have slept well. He barely slept most of the time. His regeneration made it easy to stay awake days at a time, and he only needed a few hours to function. Not to mention he was often plagued with nightmares. He hasn’t had them the past few nights, which he finds strange, but at the same time, he isn’t complaining whatsoever.

He swung his legs out of bed when he saw you were unmoving, just like yesterday at the lake.

“Hey,” he placed a hand at your shoulder, softly breaking you from your endless stare. “You doin’ alright?”

“Yeah, I just woke up a little early.”

Your little smile was forced, and he could tell, but didn’t say anything to negate your response. He just sat down beside you on the edge of the bed, looking outside the window where your gaze lingered. There was nothing specific to look at, just a view of the parking lot, and a few trees framed a small log cabin bar next door.

“I uh… I had an idea last night…” he trailed, gaining your attention as you turned to him. “What if we took a few days.”

“What do you mean?” you furrowed your brows, tilting your head as you laid it on your curled up knees.

“I mean, what if we don’t go to the base right away?” he suggested with a shrug. It had been a good idea in his head, to straggle behind a few days, and make the journey through the past when you were more settled. “I could tell the way it got to you last night, after you saw it.”

“Logan, I’m fine. Promise,” you nodded your head as if to assure yourself, but even as you were doing it you knew it didn’t look convincing.

“You weren’t fine,” he corrected, unafraid to voice his concerns by now. “Look, you brought me here, and I’m really grateful… but you were uncomfortable to even look at that place, and I could see that.”

You huffed out a sigh, shaking your head and trying to seem like there was no reason for concern. You didn’t want him to back out after coming all this way just on your account. This was for him, not for you.

“I’ll be okay,” you put on a more stern face, grabbing his hand. The gesture was more for your own comfort rather than his, but even still, you meant what you said. “I’d spent a long time trying to forget that place, and last night everything just sort of came back… but as long as you’re there, I’ll be okay.”

He listened constantly, the warmth of your touch was always so energizing to him. It made him feel like he was somehow stronger and charged with determination. He figured it had something to do with your mutation, and his ability to survive it. Not just survive, but thrive on it.

“You saved me from Stryker, Logan,” you let your legs fall from their curled position, scooting just a bit closer to him, his eyes never leaving yours, and his hand still lingered around the skin of your own. “I feel safe when I’m with you.”

His chest tightened when he heard those words. He’d realized only now what the professor's words meant a few mornings ago. He recalls exactly how they were said, and why.

Don’t hurt her, Logan.

It wasn’t just about the ability to touch, which he would admit was definitely a struggle in itself when he’d thought about how long you’ve been alive, with no one to cling to. Aside from the skin to skin contact, you trusted him. You felt safe in his presence. Most of all, you were doing all of this for him without asking anything in return, and he figured you didn’t even care if you got anything out of it in the long run.

Charles didn’t want Logan to fall all over you in immediate love and commitment. He just wanted him to take care of you, attend to you and make sure you weren’t without comfort, especially in this terrible place you were headed.

Her pain will become your own.

It wasn’t about you becoming vengeful if you got hurt, and it wasn’t about your loved ones making him pay for his actions. He understood that now, too. It was about the guilt and shame he would feel for not having been there to help you should anything happen. Should this very situation happen. He won’t let you go it alone.

“C’mere,” he sat further back, raising his other arm and beckoning you to sit closer with him.

You didn’t even hesitate to climb under his wing so to speak, and lean against him as he’d gestured for you to do. He wrapped that arm around you, his head resting over top of your soft and slightly unruly morning hair. His other hand stayed in yours, unbudging for the time you sat there.

At one point you’d felt so calm you closed your eyes, just absorbing his energy and feeling the comfort from it. It was a rough and hard facade at first, but his energy held layers, and the more you relaxed into him, the better you could feel what lies beneath. You could feel his gentleness, and his soft spirit, willing him to go wherever the wind blows. You could feel the slight sadness and confusion that he seemed to internalize every day. Probably from lacking his past, the memories and the people he used to have before Stryker messed him up.

“I think taking a few days doesn’t sound so bad, you know?” You said quietly, just loud enough to reach his ears.

“Yeah?” he smiled, looking down at you when you nodded. Your expression was happier than it had been before, the traces of fear were gone from your eyes. “It’ll be fun. I’ll show you a good time, then maybe you can change your mind about Canada.”

“Unlikely,” you laughed softly, your own smile taking over as you met his eyes. “You’re not so bad, for a Canadian, though.”

“I’ll take what I can get.”

He’d stuck to his word.

He’d shown you a good time around the small town, though he claims he’s never been there before. All the small business families were very kind and embracing, although it got to a point where talking to them was becoming detrimental to the length of your trip. Everywhere you went into, whether it be a shop, a small town bakery, or even an entertainment hub, there were people recommending things to do and see. And of course, you were not one to say no to an Adventure.

On the back of the motorcycle, you’d gone practically all over the town, meeting people, and always being introduced the same way by Logan.

‘I’m Canadian, she’s not… She doesn’t like it here much, I wanna change her mind.’

You laughed almost every time at the way the people would react, but would nod gleefully when they made suggestions on activities. You found yourself liking Canada, but only because Logan was here. He was making you laugh, and smile wider than you think you ever have. Not even three days into this endeavor, and already you’ve decided you’re falling for him.

You don’t know how deeply he reciprocates those feelings, because he’s a flirt with nearly everyone… but the soft and gentle moments, like this morning, lead you to believe there’s something else there. Some part of him that is drawn to you like you are to him.

His lingering touch on the small of your back when he opens the door and guides you through, or the arm slung around your shoulder to steer you in a different direction when something interesting catches his eye. Even the way he nonchalantly fixes your hair when he’s talking to you and the wind blows it out of place. It’s all so casual in the way it happens, and yet, it means everything to someone like you. Someone who has lived for two centuries without the normalcy of touch and comfort from another person.

You try not to focus too much on what it means, and decide to live in the moment to enjoy each time those little touches happen.

By the end of the day, you think maybe he’s taking you back to the ‘Cozy Pine Tree Inn’ that you were rooming at… but instead he pulls into the parking lot across the sidewalk.

The half-working neon sign over the porch read ‘Jackalope Neighborhood Pub’ and when you looked inside, there must have been about ten people total, including the two bartenders behind the counter.

It wasn’t a huge place to begin with, and the population of the town was probably less than the amount of students you had each week, but it was cozy, and you appreciated the warmth of it all, even though it was brutally cold.

“Go on inside, I gotta put this under that covering in case it snows,” he encouraged, letting you hop off with a spring in your step.

The inside was just as you thought it would be. Cozy, warm, dimly lit. The walls were covered in old pictures and heads of various hunted animals from up in the mountains. Sitting down at the bar, you shed your jacket and let it hang on the back of your low-back stool, keeping your gloves on for safety.

“Hi there, pretty darlin,” a man came up beside you, a smile on his face and a drunken twinkle in his eye.

“Hi,” you smiled back kindly, nodding to him.

“Never seen you here before, I guess you’re new,” he came a bit closer, and even though he didn’t try anything yet, it made you nervous when people get this close. Your skin is covered, but it still makes you uneasy.

“I’m just visiting, actually… I live in New York.”

No, you didn’t owe him an explanation, but you felt the only way to keep him at bay would be to answer his curiosities as quickly as you could, not giving him room to think about anything else.

“Why don’t I buy you a drink? A pretty girl in a place like this needs a drink.”

“I’m okay, but thank you. I’m actually here with someone, he’ll be back in a second,” you spoke quicker when the man took another step beside you, leaning up against the bar now and reaching for your hand.

“Awe, c’mon… m’sure your buddy won’t mind,” he tried to grab at your forearm in a teasing manner, but you pulled your hands from the counter, pulling your sleeves down to cover the skin of your wrist that your gloves didn’t quite shield.

“Don’t touch me,” you rushed out, a panic beginning to pour over your words. “You could get hurt.”

“I could get hurt, huh? You're gonna hurt me, pretty thing?”

“You don’t understand,” you breathed shallow, trying to keep calm to no avail. “Please, just leave me alone.”

“Baby, I think you want me to stay right here,” he again got closer, trying to cage you in by bringing his arms on both sides of you and trapping your stool in front of him.

Simply trying to get out of the situation without causing a scene, you leaned forward against the bar, pushing at one arm to try and sneak out… but as it turns out, you didn’t even have to.

Logan pulled the man away by his neck, looking him face to face and giving a harsh but somehow unbothered stare. This man was of no real threat to him, clearly.

“Leave my girl alone…” he let out calmly, though it was filled with threat. You knew he’d only added the possession for effective purposes, but you felt your heart stutter in your chest at the sound of it.

The man didn’t even speak another word, rushing off to the other side of the bar. He wasn’t a small man by any means, but Logan, standing at six foot two, with a strong build and a deep temperament was sure to scare anyone off.

Logan sat down at the bar next to you, ordering a beer for himself, and a whiskey for you. He owed you some payback Jack Daniel’s, if he remembers correctly.

“Thanks,” you threw him a smile and a nod, which he returned.

“Guy’s a creep,” he let out, his brows raised and an eager look on his face when the beer bottle was set in front of him. “Hope he didn’t ruin Canada for you.”

You laughed for what had to be the hundredth time today, shaking your head.

“Of course, not. The only thing that could ruin it is what we actually came here to do,” you joked, sipping on your drink as soon as it was put in front of you.

There was a beat of silence, before a thought that popped into Logan’s mind turned into a question.

“So, how long have you been at the school?”

You gave him a glance, tilting your head and trying to think of an answer that made sense.

“Well that depends, do you mean as it is today? Or when it first started?” You found yourself turning towards him more instead of facing the bar.

“Uh, all of it?”

He took another swig and chuckled at the strangeness of your insistence for elaboration. It was a long and complicated story, but you had to find a simple and short way to explain it.

“Charles found me by cerebro a long time ago, when I was in New York City studying for my history degree,” you took another drink, eyes watching the ice swirl around the bottom of the glass as you tipped it in different directions. “He snatched me up, and a bunch of other mutants, and we saved the world… Which I guess is a typical Tuesday now, but back then it was a big deal for us. The professor had opened the school, but I left right after some of the others did..”

“You left? Why?” His confusion stemmed from what he’s seen. That place was your home, and those people were your family. He doesn’t know why any mutant would want to leave the walls of that mansion, where it was safe.

You shrugged, a bit hesitant to even try and remember what the real reasoning was. “It was the sixties, everyone wanted their own path of freedom. That was the thing back then, wasn't it? Free love, free drugs, free spirits.”

He raised a brow, looking at you with a bit of surprise, which faded just as fast.

“I keep forgetting how old you are,” he smirked, huffing a small laugh and shaking his head. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were barely an adult.”

You often thought about that. What you would have looked like if you’d been able to grow older. Would your face have thinned out from its girlish fullness? Would you have formed little crows feet at the corners of your eyes? Would you even resemble the same person you’ve looked in the mirror to see for all these years?

“If you want to be technical, I’m physically twenty.”

“Awe, just a baby,” he teased, giving you a slight elbow to the arm. “So is that part of your mutation, then?”

“No, actually,” you began, throwing back the rest of your drink before explaining further. “The way my body works is like anyone else’s… I have to have energy and sustenance to survive, all that nonsense…”

He’d been very interested to find out about you, since he’d yet to find anything out about himself. Especially since he’d figured your mutation was the reason for your long life span.

“But since I’m made up of different kinds of energy, matter, antimatter, and a third substance unknown to science yet, I can draw sustenance from things other than food and rest.”

“Like what?”

You took your little green glove off one hand, and reached for his forearm, which he was currently leaning on against the bar. You focused on doing what you’d done the night that Rogue had injured him, forcing energy into him instead of taking it.

“You feel that?”

His eyes got a bit wider, and he watched your hand, there was just the slightest bit of an iridescent glow around his skin where you touched him. It was vague and unnoticeable if you weren’t really looking, and he was. “Yeah…”

“It’s called energy transference. I absorb energy from everything around me, and I can use it to create things… shields, small detonations, and as I recently found out with you, the ability to restore energy from depletion,” you listed, trying to get to the point, but of course, he didn’t understand how it was all connected.

“And what, it keeps you from aging?” he asked, like it didn’t make any sense, and to be fair, you didn’t really lead with the cause, so you understood his confusion.

“Not really, no…” you thought back to the day it all happened, so many years ago and yet you’ll never forget it. “When I absorb energy, it sustains me… but when I turned twenty, I was struck by lightning.”

He let out a low whistle, thinking to himself that it was a wild turn of events in your background that he wasn’t expecting.

“The professor thinks it caused a power surge in my anatomy. Being able to absorb the strike instead of it killing me, my cells were able to store that energy and prevent me from aging.”

He understood now, blinking a few times as the process settled into his mind. He wonders what else your powers can do, but doesn’t want to keep pushing you on it.

“Huh,” he looked to the bar for a minute, eyes going over the spot on his arm that still held just the slightest glow of energy without being easily seen. “I don’t really age all that much either…”

“I heard,” you replied, giving him a once over. He was probably one of the most beautiful men you’d ever come across, and knowing that his aging process was also stunted was nearly a blessing in your eyes.

“I still do, just real slow,” he explained, running a hand through his hair, the kitty ears becoming more prominent when he did. “Guessing by how little I’ve changed in the last fifteen years, I might be close to your age. Maybe a little younger… I just don’t remember.”

His tone falls into a solemness in the end, and you frown at the change in his energy. He’d been having a good time until now, when he started to think about his past, but there was nothing to find. You again reached out for him, taking his hand like you’d grown accustomed to in the past few days. Touching him would never become dull, or feel any less important. You suspected that years from now you would still feel the same tingly and warm sensation from being able to meet his skin to yours.

“You will,” you promised. Even if it takes you a lifetime, you’ll help him find himself. His past, and who he was.

The next day was Sunday, and it went on like the day before… but one thing was different. Two things, technically.

One, Logan held your hand whenever there was a long distance of walking to be done. Two, his funny and somewhat playful introductions from the day before had been given a small twist. Instead of just saying, ‘I’m Canadian, she’s not,’ there was an added layer of possession. ‘I’m Canadian, my girl isn’t.’

After last night in the bar, something was different. You couldn’t put your finger on what exactly made him switch up his actions around you, and towards you, but it wasn’t in your direct focus. You were much too busy enjoying the sudden change, and the casualness in which it was implemented.

You wondered if you should ask him about it, but every time you gained an opportunity to do so, you lost the courage. Maybe he was just doing it because it felt normal to be this way with a traveling companion? Maybe he was just putting up a front for the townspeople, so he didn’t have to try so hard to explain the situation between the two of you.

He’d been so gentle, so domesticated, it felt like he’d grown fully comfortable with you. You’d been the same with him, squeezing his hand whenever he grabbed yours.

His touch, his words, and more importantly, the look in his eyes whenever he caught you staring… It all led you to believe there was something lurking, just waiting to be let out.

When you’d returned to the motel that night, giggling about the state of his hair after a tree branch full of snow collapsed on him, he’d rolled his eyes, giving you a playful shove into your own bed while he mumbled about ‘rinsing the pine needles off’ of himself.

“I’m gonna go down to the Lobby, I wanna call Ororo,” you said, the wide smile still on your face.

He nodded, not even waiting for you to leave before he started stripping down his clothes. His jacket first, then his flannel. When he was left in the gray beater he wore beneath it all, he stopped for a moment, throwing a glance over his shoulder at you with a smirk. He knew you’d been watching, and he was too big of a tease to tell you to look away, or to remove himself to the bathroom.

He turned back around, and pulled the thin fabric over his head, throwing it to his pile by the duffel bag.

He didn’t need to look at you again to know he would catch you staring. He just went about his business as if you weren’t there. Asshole.

You almost couldn’t breathe. The only person on this entire planet that can touch you, and you got lucky enough that it was Logan. This man was strongly built, and chiseled as if from marble stone. He wasn’t overly muscular or too big, but just enough that you swore God sent him down from the heavens to roam about the earth as his most glorious creation. The way his back muscles tensed when he reached into his bag for a change of clothes, or the way his abs contracted when he stood back upright, it made your hands fidget. You wanted to stand before him and do the one thing you couldn’t do to anyone else. You wanted to touch his gorgeous, warm toned skin.

When he was about to head to the bathroom, he finally gave you a glance, his smirk even stronger when he read your expression.

“You gonna go call her or not?”

“Right,” you blinked, standing up and rushing around to grab your jacket and gloves.

You’d rushed down to the lobby as fast as your feet could carry you, the stiff breeze doing nothing to quench your excitement. You loaded two quarters into the payphone in the lobby’s hallway, facing away from the stench of the crappy bathrooms nearby.

You tapped your leg nervously as you told the operator the correct information and waited for Storm to answer. It wasn’t too late, everyone should still be awake.

The dial went until the second to last before she picked up.

“Hello?” Her voice sounded like music to your ears.

“Ro, it’s me,” you said as gently as you could, having to repress your energy. “I just wanted to check in…”

“Check in? Everything is normal here… what about you, have you found the base yet? How’s Logan?”

Her rushed questions came out when she realized who she was speaking to. She’d waited days for this call, and honestly, you weren’t one to disappoint.

“We’ve located it, yeah. We’re hiking out there tomorrow,” you explained, leaving out the part where you took a two day joyride through a small Canadian town with the man you’ve deemed is your favorite Canadian. “And Logan’s good. We’ve been having a great time so far.”

“A great time, huh? So I was right to be afraid that I’d never see you again…” she trailed, only partly joking. In truth, she wants you to be happy, but she also wants you to come home.

“Oh relax, we’ll be back before you know it.”

You heard a muffled yelling, like she’d covered the phone to reprimand some students, before she was back on the line.

“Well, tell me everything, what’s Canada like? Is it as bad as you remember?” She teased, figuring by the sound of your voice and the smile she could practically hear coming through the phone, that your opinion had been swayed.

“Canada itself is fine, but Logan is something else entirely,” you raised a brow, leaning into the phone panel on the wall and twisting the cord in your fingers like a love-struck schoolgirl. “Did you know he was Canadian?”

“I thought he might be, wasn't sure.”

“Well, I take back hating Canada, he’s actually made me like it…” you trailed, fighting yet another wide smile from only thoughts of today. “He’s made me like him… a lot.”

“Baby, it’s only been four days,” she laughed on the other end. You could tell she was debating knocking sense into you, or asking for details. The latter won in the end. “So did he kiss you, or what?”

“No, he hasn’t kissed me,” you said with a sigh, wishing the statement hadn’t been true. “But he’s been so… different. He holds my hand, he hugs me when I’m cold… he’s been introducing me to everyone we talk to as ‘his girl’.”

“So what I’m hearing is, I need to be making wedding preparations for when you get back?” She huffed out another laugh, hand on her hip as she leaned into a wall in the mansion. She knew this was going to happen. You got attached to people very easily, but Logan was an entirely different can of worms. He could touch you, he could hold you, and he could be with you in ways no one else would ever be able to. That made him your ideal attachment. If you believed in soulmates, you’d say he was yours. Uniquely created with a mutation that matched your own in the opposite form.

“See, you think that’s funny,” you laughed along with her through the phone, titling your head and speaking with confidence. “But I’m absolutely gonna marry him someday.”

She rolled her eyes, and you could almost hear it through the phone. “As crazy as you sound, I believe you… but give it more than four days to be sure, yeah?”

“Fine… I’ll give it till the end of the trip,” you taunted. You knew it was crazy to be making these bets now, but you were just so certain that this man would be your endgame. He was the only one who could be… right?

“That’s all I can ask for from you… Just be safe, and tell him I said hi, okay?” She quickly tried to get off the phone, and you could hear the rowdy children making a ruckus in the background of where she was.

“I will… tell everyone there that I miss them, and I’ll be back soon.”

“Will do, bye baby…” she rushed out her goodbye before the line went dead.

You smiled, mumbling a small ‘bye’ under your breath as you hung up the phone and headed back for the room.

The room was a bit steamy when you first walked in, with the bathroom door having been left open to air out. Logan was reclined in the bed furthest to the wall, nothing but flannel bottoms on while he was kicked back and relaxed. He had one arm behind his head, and his other perched at his side to hold up a book in his hand. Your book… the one you’d finished last night.

“Hey,” he smiled at you as you walked through the door. “Sorry I didn’t ask, it looks interesting.”

You furrowed your brow with your own surprised smile, shaking your head. “No, it’s okay… I think you’ll like it.”

“So far I do… I promise I’ll be careful with it, I know it’s old,” he defended yet again, even though you would give him that precious copy if it made him happy.

“It’s fine, what’s mine is yours,” you kept on, laying your coat on the back of a chair for the night. “Besides, you can’t do anymore damage to it that I haven’t already done.”

“I noticed you dogear the pages…” he raised a brow in your direction, as if accusing you of something.

“I know, it’s terrible…” you trailed, sitting on the edge of his bed and watching him for a moment. He went back to the book, completely engrossed in what was probably still the first chapter. “What part are you on?”

“Burn ‘em to ashes, then burn the ashes,” he remarked, and you nodded. He seemed to be pretty hooked on only the first few pages. “You were right, y’know? About comparin’ this kinda future to ours. It’s nasty stuff…”

“It only gets worse, keep reading.”

You got up, grabbing your clothes and heading for a shower. He had been considerate enough to save plenty of hot water for you.

The weekend was over, and unfortunately it was time to go where this entire journey was meant to lead. Stryker’s base.

The ride to the bridge was silent, but the second you arrived, Logan turned to you with a look of sincerity.

“Look, I know that you’re doing this for me,” he began, bringing a hand to your arm in the most gentle way possible. “But if you start feelin’ like you did the other day… I have no problem going in on my own, alright?”

“I’ll be okay, Logan. You’re here with me,” you reminded him, placing your hand over his and giving it a squeeze. “Let’s go…”

He nodded, letting you take the lead, because as was made clear before the trip even began, you were the one who remembered this place, and he was the one trying to regain those memories.

“When did you come here?” He asked, and it was an innocent question except for the implications.

“I didn't come here, I was taken. I'd just passed the bar exam back in New York, and I was gonna be a lawyer for a while, but Stryker got to me first,” You explained, not taking offense to his wording. You’d known he was a little brash with the things he said, but he could also be gentle and sweet.

“How long were you here?” His voice softened this time.

“About six years, got here near the start of the program, lived to the end of it.”

“And what about me?” He’d begun walking side by wide with you, not straggling behind like before. His curiosity wasn’t the only reason for his questioning, but it was a factor. He mostly just wanted to keep you distracted from looming amongst your own thoughts in silence, getting closer and closer to the base.

“You came towards the end, but he was planning to have you for years. That mutant I told you about, the one who melted the adamantium? They had her powering the machine long before you even came to the island.”

Your explanation caught him off guard a bit. When he’d asked if you came here, you said you were taken, but now you told him he had come… meaning he made the decision to do it.

“And I… came willingly?” He titled his head with furrowed brows, unsure why anyone would want to come to this place, if it was as bad as you say.

“From what I understand, you did at first. I think you ran away when you knew of Stryker's plans,” You reasoned, not completely remembering everything. Not that you were even apart of those dealings in the first place.

“Did I meet you then?”

You smiled and shook your head. You’d wished you’d been able to catch a glimpse of him the first time, what he’d been like before Stryker tortured him and turned him into a piece of metal.

“No, I never met you the first time. But I could feel you,” you tried your best to describe, nearly failing for how little you could actually say instead of showing him.

He seemed to understand it enough, remembering the way your powers work. He came to a halt beside you, giving you a look and asking the next question. “How did I feel?”

You stopped, too. You looked at his eyes now, and they seemed so full of something you couldn’t explain, but couldn’t look away from, either.

“Sad… Angry.”

“And now?” He asked, a serene expression on his features when he was looking at you.

“You’re still tense, but your emotions are softer, calmer.” You raised a hand to his face, trailing slightly over the facial hair that had slightly grown out the last few days. It suited him, you thought.

After a few moments, you felt a shiver run down your spine from the cold, and snapped out of your daze, continuing on the path ahead, and leading him through an old abandoned tunnel. This tunnel was not full of bad memories, but a rather fond one. The day you had escaped, you followed Scott through this tunnel to meet the Professor on the other side.

He seemed to be taking everything in, noting every intricate detail of the place to try and place it. Nothing sprung from the back of his mind, so he doesn’t know if anything significant enough happened here that he might have a cognitive reset, but he keeps trying, going through each stretch of the base like something might pop up.

You froze still when you got to the edge of the cell block. The cages were just as he’d left them, completely and utterly destroyed by his claws.

“This is it, huh?” He stood still, too. The weight of the area was easy to feel, and though he didn’t know why, he could almost sense the years of heaviness that was caused here. It was haunting.

“This is it,” you huffed, taking a step forward and treating it like you would any other place you visited. It’s just bricks and concrete and steel, it’s not like it should affect you this way. “The cell on the end is mine, the one three or four down was Scott’s.”

There were motion sensors everywhere. Long since forgotten about, and none were activated, but he could also see the security measures, and some of the poking and prodigy tools they must have used just scattered about. The leftover scenery of a hasty escape, by both the mutants and the inhabitants of this place.

“How did you even survive this?” He asked, the weight settling in on his shoulders even more, pushing him into the floor.

“Most of us didn't. This entire block had new mutants every year. All except me,” you sighed out, running your fingers over the enclosure that you’d been contained in for so long. It was in the past now, and you stood beside the very testament to your escape. The man who freed you and had given you hope. Nothing bad could happen to you here as long as he was with you, now.

“Because you can't die...” He trailed, a single finger of his looming over the exposed skin of your neck. With him being so close, this little action almost seemed normal, but the cold weather made his hands cold, too, and the feeling of it caused a shiver. You stepped away with a shudder under your breath, but turned around and got close enough again to keep the energy from feeling awkward. No matter how cold his hands were, you still liked when he touched you.

“I wanted to. This was the worst part of my life. I never wanted to come back here.”

“Then why did you?” He crossed his arms, leaning against the cell block and leaning in. He knew the answer, or at least he thought he did. Charles made him clearly aware, not that he didn’t know already.

“I wanna help you,” you looked down, too scared to meet his eyes and say something else besides what you wanted him to hear. “You saved me from this place, the least I can do is help you remember it.”

He nodded, thinking that maybe he was pushing too hard. Maybe he just needed to focus on himself… but something about this place, it made him feel that strange connection to you again. The one that he didn’t think he felt back at X-Manor.

He took a few steps towards the frozen doors at the end of the block, likely leading into other parts of the base that were inaccessible.

“How did it happen?” He turned back, wielding a small smirk.

“What?” you furrowed your brows, unsure of what exactly he meant.

“The rescue, how did it happen? Was I heroic?” He posed jokingly, hands on his hips to draw out a laugh from you, and it worked. Even in this place you were scared of, he could make you feel joy.

“Yeah, you were…” you closed the distance between you, pushing him into position by the doors to reenact the scene. “It was pretty late at night, the sirens started going off, we all started panicking, we thought we were getting attacked or something. Most of us were weak, and could barely stand. My legs were likely broken and definitely cut apart from the tests they'd been doing… We thought it was the end. And then you came charging down the cellblock with this woman,” you sat back into your cell, feeling no semblance of fear from it now. He ran down to your cell with a cheesy grin, playing along for your amusement. “You both started to set everyone free. But you were the one who tore open my cage, and without thinking, I let you help me up…” you trailed, watching as per your story, he reached in and helped you to your feet just like he had done all those years ago. “That was the first time I touched you.”

You kept your hand in his, the tingling sensation still remaining, even though you’ve probably touched him a hundred times by now.

“Wow… that uh… doesn’t sound like me…” he looked away from you, his hand pulling back and hanging it at his side. He’d broken the charade to think about how inaccurate this all sounded. Even though you were not a liar, and he could take your word for it, he just couldn’t seem to think of himself how you did. “Guess it's just a lot to take in..”

You’d painted him in such a heroic light, he wasn’t sure that heroic was a word that fit him very well, much less at all. All he knew of himself was a selfish loner, who occasionally did the right thing out of obligation and not duty.

“It is… take your time,” you tried your best to reel in the happiness you’d felt, because even though being here with him made you feel better… he was trying to remember himself, and maybe this wasn’t helping.

“And the woman I was with, did you know her?”

You hoped he wouldn’t ask about her, you didn’t want to disappoint him.

“I don't remember. She looked familiar, but I couldn't tell you who she was,” you think you saw her with Stryker a few times, but never by his side, always behind him, following orders. “She died not long after the breakout, the professor found her after he’d come back for the remaining survivors...”

He seemed deep in thought, facing the doors of the cellblock again and clenching his fists… was he remembering something?

“And I was with her, this woman?” the way he said it implied the depth of what he was really asking.

“From what I gathered at the time, yeah… but I wasn't in the best condition, so I could have just made it all up in my head. I definitely remember you, though.”

At this he turned back to face you, coming closer and lifting his lips in the very corners to resemble a not quite smile. It still turned your stomach in the best way.

“I'm just unforgettable, huh?”

“Completely unforgettable. This is a part of my life that I have worked hard and trained myself to forget, but I remembered you instantly…” you confessed, not daring to look away from him now, when he was so clearly latched onto you. It didn’t matter what you said at this point, you were sure he must have known something of your feelings by now.

“Because I could touch you.”

You shook your head. “It was more than that. I'd never seen anything like you before.”

“Is that a good thing?” He teased, his full smile finally returning once the air felt lighter again.

You thought about that day. He’d come running through like a true action hero, saving everyone in his path. He had been here for something else entirely, you think, but he stopped to save you and the others. He’d been wearing a white beater that night, his shoulders glistening with sweat while his hair bounced with every step he took. It was longer then. The determined look in his eyes was something you also noticed, and the way they softened when he steadied you to your feet, touching your skin as no one had for over two hundred years. Yes, seeing him was a very good thing.

“Oh yeah, trust me.”

Having searched for other abandoned entry points of the base, and being unsuccessful, you opted to leave, but it had grown dark out, and there was no way you could hike all the way back to the motorcycle before the cold winds set in. It was too dark to even navigate the grounds, anyways.

It was decided that you could set up a makeshift camp within the escape tunnel, as it was just slightly warmer than the outside.

Logan didn’t talk much after leaving the base. He’d been all fun and games until he realized you both had finally made it to the place with the answers, but there were none. He didn’t take his frustrations out on you, but he didn’t exactly ignore them, either. In fact, he took to ignoring you instead. You tried striking up a conversation with him, and found he was in too sour a mood, and every comment you made about little things, like the sleeping bag in your backpack, or the water flask kept in his, he seemed to just grunt out a response to get back to the quiet.

It wasn’t until the dead cold of the night that you’d been shivering your ass off, that you even dared to speak to him again.

“This storm's getting worse… I'm gonna freeze to death.”

He rolled over from his sleeping bag on the ground, a slanted brow on his face and a huff when he saw that you were truly cold. He was not in a good mood, and he didn’t want to deal with more bad situations.

“I thought you couldn’t die…” he grumbled, leaning up on one arm. You were curled up into a ball, all your layers on your body and the sleeping bag, but the snow was falling hard and fast outside, probably sealing you both into this icy tunnel.

“I can't be killed. I can still technically die,” you explained, furthering the lore on your powers. He mentally added it to the list. Almost immortal, but not really so much in snowstorms.

“Then why are you still alive?” He mumbled sarcastically, trying not to be an asshole to the only person he was dependent on the past few days.

“Because I'm careful.”

You sat up, and in the dim light he could see how pale you’d gotten, your lips a shade of cold purple instead of the soft pink they normally held.

“Aren't you made of energy? Just warm yourself up…” He suggested, as if you hadn’t thought of that. It wasn’t even in your ability wheel.

“I'm made of matter and antimatter, I don't radiate heat,” you argued, trying to maintain a sense of calm while being cold enough to power a refrigerator.

“Fine, you know what? I'm not walking you back to the bike, just get over here,” he let out, holding open the sleeping bag for you to scoot into. You’d done so as quickly as possible, letting him drop his arm back over you in an instant. Already you could feel the fiery feeling he gave off into the air.

“How are you so warm?”

“I don't know,” he shook his head, closing his eyes and trying to go to sleep. He wanted to be up with the sun tomorrow, so he could get back to the motel and get some quality rest.

“You don’t know why you feel like a toaster?” You joked with a sweet smile, but were quickly reminded he wasn’t in the mood.

“Do you ever stop talking?”

“Sorry.”

In truth, he did feel bad about treating you like that. You’d done so much for him, and all he’d done was snap at you when he realized the answers he was looking for were still locked up. He pulled you tighter in his arms, holding you close as if uttering a physical apology. I’m sorry for being a dick, but thank you for being so kind to me anyways.

Having found warmth in you, and another feeling that cannot be described outside of perhaps the simple word: safety, Logan slept better than he had in weeks, months, even. Hell, he doesn’t know if he’s ever slept like this, waking up naturally, well rested and without a nightmare in sight.

It was late in the afternoon, and he woke up feeling a sense of peace that he didn’t go to bed with. He’d been settled. His anger and annoyance about the failed objective made his skin crawl when the snow had been pouring down, the storm covering the ground with several inches of a white, fluffy covering.

Knowing it had been very late in the night when you finally were able to sleep, he didn’t want to wake you, but being wrapped around you like a cocoon while you slept would make it very hard to even sit up without causing you to stir.

He figured he could wake you up, now, take you back to the motel so you could finish resting while he took a walk, or visited the bar. It had approached his mind the night before, that he would probably go and get wasted at the establishment to try and fill the void that had been left empty by the lack of answers.

Slowly, he unraveled the twisted limbs and sleeping bags, hearing your soft grumbling of discomfort when you came to. You weren’t fully awake, and your arms grabbed at him, trying to pull him back in subconsciously while your moaning and groaning persisted. He let out a small chuckle at the actions, like that of a child grabbing for the security of its mother.

“Rise and shine, princess,” He joked, trying to maneuver himself away.

You finally remembered where you were, and realized that Logan was the source of warmth that had been keeping you so still and secure.

“Hey,” you let out with a furrowed brow, wiping over your eyes to try and dull the ache of opening them too soon. “What time is it?”

“Not sure, it might be noon,” he guessed, standing on his feet and beginning to collect everything that was still scattered about on the ground of the tunnel.

You were silent for a minute, nodding your head and beginning to become more coherent with every minute passed. You soon joined him on collecting things that needed packing away, but did so with a sentiment passed along.

“I’m sorry we didn’t find anything here,” you murmured quietly.

He almost had to do a double take… Why were you apologizing? You’d done him a great service by coming here to try and help him, no matter the results.

“S’not your fault,” he furrowed his brow in response. “I’m sorry for treating you like shit last night. Just because I’m mad doesn’t mean I have to take it out on you.”

“Don’t be sorry. If I was in your place I’d be angry, too.”

The way you looked at him was astonishing. Like he’d hung every star in the sky. You looked at him and he felt like no matter the atrocities he knows he’s capable of, and the memories he can’t reach, he could do no wrong. Nothing he ever did was bad in your eyes. It was an empowering feeling, but also a curious one. You are far greater of a person than he is, and he knows it… so why do you look at him like this?

The answer is simple, you’re in love with him. He’s the first person you can touch, which is a huge factor, but aside from that, he is kind to you, and genuinely, not just because he has to be.

He remembers what Charles told him before he left. Ask her about a man named Charlie…

“I uh…” he trailed, watching you where you sat, packing away your water flask and flashlight. “I had a talk with the professor before we left a few days ago.”

“About what?”

“About you, mostly. He told me I was in safe hands,” among other things, but he wouldn’t mention that. “And he told me that when you were ready I could ask you about a man…”

“A man?” You raised your brows in surprise. You weren’t sure if you knew what you were supposed to tell him.

“Yeah, a man… his name was Charlie?”

He could see it, the instant the name left his lips. Your face fell and your brain had to work overtime to try and return it to something neutral, and less traumatized. Your silence made him think that maybe he crossed a line. If you hadn’t been ready to talk about this man, then he’d just made a huge mistake. He doesn’t know who this fellow is, but he clearly did something to you.

“Are you alright?” Logan knelt down, interrupting your blank stare. He could see the memories flashing behind your eyes, the thoughts winding up in your head.

“Yes,” you shook out of it, but your smile didn’t come back. “I’ve been around people that know about him for a long time, I didn’t think I’d ever have to retell the story.”

“You don’t have to,” he shook his head, a hand raising to your arm to try and bring comfort. “I assume it’s a sad story?”

“The worst one I know…” you trailed, finally giving a small quirk of your lip in a smile. Looking at Logan for too long made it impossible to scowl forever. “It’s been a hundred and thirty some years just about.”

He whistled long and low, sitting down across from you to fully pay attention.

“I started working in a farm house in Virginia in the Eighteen Sixties. I kept to myself as best I could, making beds, doing laundry, washing dishes. Best paying job I’d ever had so I stayed as long as I could…” you trailed, taking a deep breath to introduce the main character of this story. “There was a stable boy there, worked the farm for the family for years before he got promoted to caring for the horses. I hadn’t met him until about two months of being there.”

“He’s Charlie?” Logan lifted a brow inquisitively, fully engrossed in the history you were sharing. You nodded your head to confirm.

“He’s Charlie. He was only nineteen years old… he was the only person that I’d barely ever talked to that grew fond of me. I didn’t even have to do anything,” you joked, dipping your head and remembering the way it all went back then. “He used to volunteer to help me hang laundry just so we could talk.”

“Classy guy,” Logan teased, watching your face light up with the way you were recalling everything.

“He was, and so gentlemanly… The day he found out about me being what I am, it was a complete accident. Long story short, I killed a chicken. He took the blame for it, and at the end of the day, the family ate it for dinner.”

“He knew about you?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, another smile spreading. “He didn’t care. He’d never touched me before, and knowing that he never could… he still didn’t care.”

You sighed, the bliss of the memory fading from view when the next part resurfaced.

“I fell in love with him, and eventually he asked me to marry him. Obviously, I said yes,” you paused for a moment, heaving a sigh as tears backed your eyes. “The day we left for town to get married, there was an accident… Some drunk men with a gun were messing around like assholes, and one thing led to another. They started firing off rounds in our direction, and I knew I could block the bullets, but I hadn’t told Charlie that. He tried to save me, tried to pull me out of the way…”

You couldn’t even finish the sentence, but Logan already knew.

“You touched him…” he filled in the blank, watching you blink away the tears that started to fall. Your silent and weak nod was heartbreaking, and in under two seconds flat, Logan had his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close to him to feel comforted. He was the only one who could do this, and after hearing your story of a lost love, he knew how much it meant.

He is grateful to you and owes you a lot. Being your shoulder to cry on is the least he can do in a situation like this, where you seemed like you just needed someone to hold onto.

“It’s been a long time,” you mumbled, sniffing to try and block more tears from falling. Being in Logan’s embrace made it better. “I thought he was the love of my life… but I’ve lived so much of my life now without him.”

“I’m sorry,” he ran a hand over your hair, tucking your head under his chin.

“I just wish he'd been something like you…”

“Something like me?” He asked, unsure of what you could mean. The way you described him, he seemed perfect. A gentleman, a protector, someone who loved you so much that he was willing to go through life without the most basic of relationship necessities. He didn’t feel like he could compare.

“Immune to my mutation.”

Your clarification made him understand, and maybe he shouldn’t have uttered his next words, but he did, fully knowing the answer.

“I’m guessing no one else has been,” he let out, beginning to loosen his hold on you.

You’d backed away and looked him in the eyes with your teary, puffy red ones.

“So far, only you.”

“I’m sorry, that sounds lonely.” His embrace didn’t leave, but he dropped your gaze for a moment to try and think about what that must be like. To not only be without that kind of comfort, but to constantly have to avoid it at all costs.

“S’not so bad anymore. You’re pretty decent company, and you don’t seem to hate being around me... I’d say I lucked out.” You leaned back into his arms, laying your head on his shoulder this time as you took a deep inhale. The scent of him was intoxicating, and the way he was constantly warm felt like an invitation in itself.

He didn’t move you, or make you go anywhere. He knew that if he’d been stuck here for days that it would have to be endured for your sake. After hearing of the tragedy in your past, he felt you deserved to sit here in silence, safely and securely wrapped in his strong arms.

Tags: @ayamenimthiriel l @levislegislation @reidsworld @melsunshine @clairealeehelsing @fries11 @burkayyy @d3ad2you @insanesosciopath @scream4mami @marifilue

#logan howlett #logan howlet x reader #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett smut #logan x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x mutant reader #logan howlett x oc #wolverine fanfiction #x men wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #deadpool and wolverine #logan wolverine

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yexthiccxa · 3 days ago

Text

Secrets of the Second Shift - (Part 3)

summary: you find out that choso is your mystery man from last weekend (part 2). finding out this news has you turning to an unexpected friend for advice. if this if this is going to work between you two, you need to set some rules. but everyone knows that rules are meant to be broken.

wordcount: 4.9k words

full fic c/w: choso smut, choso/fem!reader, choso/oc, modern!au, some plot, plot what plot, porn with plot, gentleman!choso, soft!choso, praise kink, blindfold sex, oral, fingering, vaginal sex, enemies to lovers, fingering, oral, multiple orgasms

a/n: this chapter is mostly meant to build plot, but it has has a lil banter and fairly mild spice and then some! enjoy! let me know if you want to be added to the tag list for this!

Tumblr Master List | Read this chapter on AO3!

✦✧✸✧✦ 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ✦✧✸✧✦

Choso’s words hang in the air as you try to collect your thoughts. Hello my little vixen, I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.

You try to respond but the words struggle to leave your mouth. All you can focus on are his dark brown eyes gazing into your soul as if trying to unlock the cage guarding your heart. One moment longer, and you’re terrified he might find the key.

The elevator dings, signaling the lobby.

Before you can even react, Choso releases his hold with casual ease and steps beyond the doors. It’s as if the past few seconds hadn’t completely shifted your entire world.

You follow his lead, lagging shortly behind. “I have so many questions,” you say, trying to keep your voice low in hopes no one would hear you. “But I think it’s probably best if we didn’t talk about it here.”

The lift in his brow is followed by a confident smirk. “Hmm, I guess dinner is on after all?”

His charm has you wrapped around his finger and you both know it. “I guess you’re right,” you mutter.

“So quick to agree this time. What happened to not mixing business and pleasure?” he teases.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t resist the small smile that tugs at your lips. “I think we crossed that line a long time ago.”

“Crossed? More like blew right through it…” he jokes, hoping you’d catch his drift. “which felt exceptionally good, I might add. I’ll have to return the favor one of these days.”

You lightly nudge him away, jaw dropping in disbelief. Generally speaking, you’d like to think you’re fairly quick witted, but something tells you that you’ve met your match.

Choso lets out a chuckle— it’s sincere, but just like him it remains effortlessly poised. You’re starting to envy his ability to navigate the tension without breaking a sweat.

“So where do you want to meet for dinner tonight?” you ask.

“I’ll pick you up,” His voice is smooth, almost like he's already settled the matter in his mind.

You arch your brow with a hint of suspicion, “That didn’t really answer my question.”

He stops to brace your shoulders. “Do you trust me?” The look in his eyes makes it hard to say no.

He could either be a serial killer or a completely normal guy who just wants to take you to dinner. Given your existing history, you decide to take your chances. “Fine. But if this backfires, I’m getting appetizers, an entrée, and dessert.”

His confident grin returns. “Oh, I count on it. Let’s say 7?”

You look down at your phone to check the clock. Hmm, that should be enough time. You nod in agreement and decide to exchange numbers before going your separate ways.

When you get to your car, you feel your phone buzz. Your heart skips a beat when you see the notification across the screen.

Choso: Get home safe, I’ll see you later.

The butterflies in your stomach start to build, but you try not to relish in the moment for two long. While you appreciate the kind farewell, you have other plans—and none of them involve going home.

You’ve found yourself tangled in a mess of your own making, and the only person who can help you now is the one who led you here in the first place. You make a call and wait as it rings on the other end.

When he picks up, you exhale a deep sigh. “Satoru, I need your help. I have…a situation. I’ll be there in 10.”

✦✧✸✧✦

Instead of going home, you find yourself heading to Blinded Bliss to see Satoru. While he’s technically your manager, the two of you have always operated more like friends. And you need advice—desperately.

You push open the door to Satoru’s office without knocking, immediately regretting it.

“Oh my god, seriously?” you groan, covering your face.

You find him tangled up with one of the club’s bouncers in a position that makes you wish you had bleach for your eyes. Lucky for you, you’re friendly with this one too.

“Hey Suguru didn’t expect to see you here,” you say, your gaze still shifted away.

Suguru chuckles, pulling back slightly. “Someone doesn’t know how to knock.”

You slowly peek between your fingers to see if the coast is clear. “Sorry to interrupt, but did Satoru not tell you I was coming?”

Suguru lifts himself off before making his way to the door. “He had you on speaker, we just lost track of time,” he turns back to Satoru, giving him one final kiss before heading out. “I think this is my sign to leave.”

As Suguru steps out of the office, Satoru casually zips up his slacks like nothing had happened. “This better be good—you don’t even work Mondays. What are you doing here?”

“Remember, my client from last weekend?” you say, stepping inside despite the awkwardness. “He’s a manager from the company we acquired… which means we now work together. Unfortunately that also means he’ll most likely be the one taking my promotion.” You shut your eyes tight to help relieve the stress.

Satoru leans back in his chair, rolling his eyes as if this was everyday news. “C’mon! I asked for something good!”

The vibrato in his voice brings your focus back.

He continues, “Surprising, sure—but everyone has their guilty pleasures and secrets to hide, even the corporate drones.” Satoru sighs in disappointment. “While I can’t give you work advice, I don’t think you have to worry about him spilling your secret to get ahead. If that’s all, I’m gonna call Suguru back—”

Before he can finish his thought, you add, “And I have a date with him …tonight.”

Satoru whistles low. “Wow.”

“Yeah, wow,” you agree.

The silence sits between you both while Satoru tries to think, fingers tapping thoughtfully against his chin.

After what feels like a lifetime, he finally speaks, “And this is something you want to do?” His voice is slightly tinged with concern.

You bring your hand to your temple before nodding—trying to sound certain. “Honestly, yeah.” You let out a deep sigh and seat yourself onto the chair in front of his desk.

He cocks an eyebrow, studying you carefully. "This is new for you. I’ve seen you do repeats, take regulars, but only ever inside these walls. Dating in the outside world is a bit… intimate for you, no?”

“I mean, yeah. But…I don’t know what it is. Something keeps pulling me into him, and I don’t know how to stop it.”

Satoru lets out a low, thoughtful hum before speaking. His voice is softer now, “Hmm. “What it is”, is attraction. And that "something” is emotion. No one says you have to stop it.”

You hesitate, a sudden flicker of doubt crossing your face. “But then it gets messy... and complicated.”

His gaze sharpens, and he walks toward you, stopping just in front of where you stand. He softly tilts your head up towards him. "If you know what you want, then set some boundaries. I know you—despite the damsel in distress act you put on in those rooms, we both know you’re a strong woman who gets what she wants."

A small, rueful smile tugs at the corner of your lips, but you look away, ashamed to say what will come out next. “I mean, sure, but what am I going to do about this place? Do I just stop working? Unlike my other job, I actually like it here.”

Satoru raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. He braces your shoulders to comfort you—a move Choso did not long ago. His eyes are determined when he looks at you and says, “Slow down. First and foremost, if you want to keep taking clients, don’t let anyone stop you from doing so. It’s your body, and you can choose what you want to do with it. You can take clients for ten thousand dollars, ten dollars, or zero dollars.”

You exhale and speak, but Satoru doesn't give you a chance to respond, his voice still measured. “But if you don’t want to take clients, it makes no difference to me. Hell, you could just use the room for you and twirly tops for all I care. You and I both know that we don’t do it for the money at this point—although it is a great perk.”

“You have a point there.” Before you can fully process Satoru’s words, you find your brows furrowing when you remember an unexpected phrase. “Wait, did you just call Choso twirly tops ?”

Satoru chuckles, “Yeah, you know, because of the...” He trails off, his hand making an exaggerated motion to outline the ties in Choso’s hair.

You can’t help but laugh. A smile spreads across your face, and you find yourself feeling lighter, even if just for a moment. "I can always count on you—thanks, Satoru."

Satoru waves you off, grinning. "You're welcome! You know I’m always here for you wherever you need it.” He starts to head to his chair before pausing. “…But we both know this would have easily been a phone call. So why did you really come here?"

You glance at the floor for a moment, shifting uncomfortably before lifting your gaze to meet his. “I was wondering if… I could get some clothes from The Vault?”

A mischievous look sweeps across his face. "Absolutely, you don’t even have to ask." He pauses, opening a drawer to hand you a set of keys. "But let me just say—if this guy has you eyeing The Vault…” His grin morphs into something almost wicked as he steps closer and lowers his voice, “…You. Are. Fucked.”

You laugh, but a nagging feeling in the back of your mind tells you that Satoru might be right.

As you two make your way over to The Vault, your mind begins to wonder if this is the right move. You take a deep breath and instinctively tap the space between your thumb and pointer finger to soothe your anxious thoughts. Remember, you try to tell yourself, no matter what path you’ve chosen, the stars will always align for you.

Before you know it, you’ve reached another set of platinum double doors.

Satoru dubs The Vault as his secret “supply room” (cough, sex shop) tucked away in Blinded Bliss. It’s a treasure trove filled with outfits, costumes, lingerie, toys and any sex related thing your heart desires. Typically this room is only reserved for long standing regulars to shop at before their appointments, but Satoru will always make an exception for you.

When you step inside, Satoru follows, already rifling through the racks.

“Do you have anything here that says ‘I’m interested but not desperate?” You ask.

Satoru pulls a black leather form fitting dress from the rack. Absolutely not. It’s beautiful and very sexy, but a little too sexy for a casual Monday dinner.

“Immediate pass, Satoru! It’s just one meal, not a masterclass in submission !”

“Oh sorry, let me just go over here to the Sexy Sunday Service aisle,” he teases, rolling his eyes.

You laugh, but he actually directs you to a set of more modest outfits. “Oh you’re serious.”

Both of you are sifting through the items before Satoru pulls out another one. “How about this one?” he asks, showcasing a corduroy mini dress that’s easy enough to dress down, yet fitted enough to perfectly accentuate your curves.

“You know, this is actually perfect. Thanks!”

He brings you in for a hug, and the security of his embrace relaxes you. “No problem, baby girl. Kill it tonight, I expect a full debrief on Friday.”

You slightly pull away, “Right, Friday…” your tone is filled with uncertainty.

Satoru gives you a reassuring look before bringing you back in. “If you come in …of course, no pressure.”

After locking up The Vault, Satoru walks you to your car. You fight the initial urge to check your phone to see if you’ve gotten any additional messages from Choso. When you plug your phone into the car wire, you’re disappointed to see that none are there.

You make it back home with an hour to spare and use the remaining time to freshen up and get ready. At 6:45pm, you see your phone illuminate on the bathroom counter with two new messages. Your body can’t help but be giddy at the sight.

Choso: leaving now

Choso: be there in 15

You’re all done up with 5 minutes left, and catch a final glimpse of your reflection in the hallway mirror. Your outfit hugs you in all the right places and your makeup is effortlessly on point—but still, it feels like too much .

“It’s just dinner,” you mutter to yourself, pacing back toward your room. “Why am I trying so hard?”

The urge to change into something simpler tugs at you, but before you can make a move, the sound of your ringtone fills the hallway. You glance at the screen: Choso.

You answer on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Just wanted to let you know I’m downstairs,” he says smoothly, his voice laced with that casual confidence you’re starting to recognize. “No rush though, I’m a little early. Sorry.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you give yourself a quick once-over in the mirror. Go hard or go home I guess. “Be right down,” you reply, grabbing your bag before heading out.

When you step outside, you see Choso leaning against the side of his car. When you make your way over to him, you say, “Didn’t expect you to be here so soon. Looks like someone couldn’t wait to see me.”

Your mere presence triggers a primal instinct that he can’t control. Without warning, Choso grabs you by the waist, his hand slowly trailing downward. When his fingers graze the skin near the hem of your dress, you feel a tightness building in your core.

He pulls you into him until you’re pressed against his firm chest and your leg meets the bulge growing in his pants. “Oops…guess I’m not the only one who can’t wait.”

“Very funny,” you reply. Before you pull away, your gaze locks into him. You want to stay in this moment just a little bit longer. When your eyes trail down to his lips, you find your thoughts running off to the dirtiest part of your mind. You don’t stop it though. Instead you let it consume you until you’re inches away from tasting him.

You stop your momentum just short of a kiss to see if Choso will take the bait. To your surprise he challenges every muscle in his body to show restraint. Such a gentleman.

You smile, rewarding him the only way you know how.

It feels like eternity until your lips finally meet, but when they do they crash together like endless tides being pulled by a full moon.

“Seems you couldn’t wait either,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice thick with amusement as he pulls away slightly, his forehead resting against yours.

You shift your gaze away, slightly embarrassed by the wave of passion that took over you.

He places his hand against your cheek to guide your focus back to him. “Shall we go to dinner?”

You smile and nod before he opens up the passenger door and gestures to get inside. “Your chariot awaits.”

You slide into the seat, the faint scent of leather and his cologne mixing in the air. As he gets in and starts the engine, he casts a quick glance your way. “You look great, by the way,” he mentions.

“Thanks,” you reply, smoothing the fabric of your outfit. “I was a little worried I might be overdressed.”

He smirks, his eyes briefly darting toward you. “Oh trust me you are overdressed,” he starts, placing his hand firmly across your thigh. You feel the goosebumps sweep across your skin. “I’d rather see you in nothing at all.”

Your mouth falls open slightly as you turn to him, “You are quite the comedian aren’t you?”

“I prefer to call it charming,” he quips, shooting you a grin. “You don’t like it?”

You shake your head with a soft laugh. “On the contrary, I think I like it …maybe a little too much.”

“Hate to say I told you so,” he replies smoothly, remembering his words from Friday night.

The 15 minute drive goes fairly quick, but confusion begins to set in when you see Choso slow down into a residential area. Your stomach twists when he parks in front of an apartment building, killing the engine.

“Where are we?” you ask.

“Dinner,” he says simply, nodding toward the building.

He invited you to his apartment for dinner? As the thought crosses your mind, all you can hear is Satoru’s voice ringing through your head: if you know what you want, then set some boundaries.

You take a deep breath and turn to face Choso, your brows furrowed in thought. “Listen, Choso, I hope you don’t get the wrong idea when I say this, but if we’re trying to keep things from getting messy, we need boundaries,” you begin, your voice steady despite the nerves bubbling beneath. “As much as I would love to repeat Friday, I think apartments should be off-limits. It’s too—”

Before you can finish, Choso grabs your hand to keep you from spiraling. His grip is gentle but firm, grounding you instantly. “While I am flattered that you also have an interest in continuing where we left off, I am offended that you think I just brought you here to fuck you.” The humor in his voice pulls you back to center.

Heat rises to your face as you look away, flustered.

Choso keeps his focus set on you before continuing. “Listen to me when I say that I will respect your boundaries. But since I’m new here, I haven’t tried many restaurants yet. I didn’t want to fuck up my first shot by bringing you to a shitty place so I brought you somewhere I knew would be good.”

His sincerity catches you off guard, and your heart skips a beat. You blink, momentarily stunned, before managing to reply, “That’s… so sweet of you. I appreciate that.”

Choso’s smirk grows into a genuine smile as he releases your hand. “Now if your mind is at ease,” he says, gesturing towards the door, “we’re one lobby, and 25 floors away from a delicious meal and a conversation full of answers. Will you please accept this offer of entering my apartment, just this once?”

You hesitate for a moment, but the earnestness in his voice makes it hard to say no.

“Fine,” you concede, shaking your head lightly, “just this once.”

✦✧✸✧✦

When you get off the elevator on the 25th floor, the smell of something rich and savory fills the hallway. The scent grows stronger as you get closer to his apartment. After he opens the door and gestures to you inside, you notice two plates set with silverware on the dining table across the room.

“It smells amazing, you cook?” you ask, as you’re taking off your boots by the door.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Choso quips back, heading toward the kitchen. “Did you think I brought you here just to order take out?”

You follow his lead. “No… but I mean, you kind of strike me as the bland chicken and broccoli type.”

“Well, we both should know by now that looks can be deceiving,” he says, turning on the oven to heat up the food. He pulls out a bottle of wine from a shelf. “Care for a drink while we wait?”

After you give him a nod, he tells you to make yourself comfortable. You settle into a cozy spot on the couch and he joins you shortly after, handing you a glass of red.

Without hesitation, he jumps straight into it. “We both have questions, but please—ladies first.”

You take a sip before setting your glass down on the side table. “Ok, for starters… What brings a guy like you to a place like Blindness Bliss? You seem like you’re perfectly capable of getting anyone you’d like without having to pay for it.”

Choso pauses to collect his thoughts. “My friend Kento actually referred me there. He mentioned that he visits from time to time when he’s in town. Kento knew I had just come off of a tough week before moving here and he suggested I try it out to blow off some steam. I initially resisted, but he kept insisting and finally told me that he paid for the night. At that point I had to go.”

Kento? Never heard of him. I’ll have to ask Satoru about him one day, you think to yourself.

Choso shifts closer to you, his arm draping over your shoulder in a casual, confident movement. He puts his glass down and leans in just a little—his voice dropping to a quieter, more intimate tone. “...but seeing how things have turned out, I have no regrets.”

He slowly moves to kiss you between your neck and shoulder. “And I’d do it again.”

His kisses drift closer to your lips before you’re face to face. “...and again.”

“...and again.”

You feel the heat immediately rise to your cheeks. You can’t decide if it’s the alcohol or the feeling of his lips against your skin. Before he can reach your mouth, your finger presses against his lips to give him pause. “I believe it’s your turn to ask a question.”

Choso pulls back smiling, accepting your challenge. “Well, I could ask the same for you. Why the second shift? We both have the same position at work, which means I can assume that you don’t do it for the cash.”

You give yourself the space to think. “Well, you are right about that. It may have started out that way, but I guess I just kept doing it because I liked the way it made me feel. I spend so much time trying to prove myself at Zenin Tech, especially reporting to Naoya. It’s like I always need to keep hustling otherwise I’ll never make progress or get anywhere.” You sink into your seat and release a deep sigh. “It’s exhausting.”

Choso listens with undivided attention, absorbing every word without interruption or question.

You slowly pick yourself back up, directing your attention back to him. “But when I’m at Blinded Bliss, it’s the complete opposite. Over there I don’t need to claw my way to the top or earn respect, I already have it. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true. I don’t know how he does it, but Satoru makes it easy for us. He truly only lets in the best of the best. So consider yourself lucky.”

Choso perks back up. “Satoru?” he asks before the realization sets in. “Ahh, yes. The guy who—”

“Oh no, wait… please don’t worry about him,” you interject quickly, holding your hands up in defense. “That thing that we did, it’s all just for show. There’s nothing between us. It’s just part of the gig, I swear.”

Choso stops your movements, his palm gently pressing against your cheek.“Hey, it’s okay—no need to get your defenses up. It's your body— what you do with it and who you choose to do it with is all up to you.”

Your jaw hangs open—savoring every last word that just left his mouth.

The moment your eyes meet, everything else in the room fades away. You feel the tension grow heavy between you while the electricity from his touch draws you both closer.

You’re close—maybe a little too close, maybe not close enough.

Once again you’re face to face but this time all you can think about is how he makes your heart race without even trying.

Before Choso leans in, he gives you one last look—it’s a look of passion and desire. It’s a look that aims to claim you the first chance he gets. He stares intently into your eyes before he whispers, “But just so you’re aware, if there’s ever another opportunity for me to be one of those people, just know I will always say yes.”

The moment stands still.

Every inch between you feels like an eternity, and you want to do everything in your power to change that.

Within moments, it finally hits. Your hands slip to the back of his neck as you crash your lips into his, planting open mouthed kisses and claiming every part of his tongue. He follows your lead, his movements are urgent and unrelenting—as if he’s been keeping himself restrained for far too long.

Without a second thought, your hands find their way to his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt to deepen the kiss. He uses the momentum to climb on top of you until his frame pins you against the cushions, back arching to feel the warmth of his body consume you.

As he moves his mouth down the side of your neck, you take the moment to continue your thoughts—still giving in to the heat of the moment. “This brings us... to a great point." Your breath becomes slightly labored. "I meant what I said earlier... about boundaries.” Every kiss he plants on you makes it harder to speak.

Choso breaks in between kisses to say, “Yes, boundaries. I’m listening.” He slips one strap off your shoulder and pulls the neckline down just far enough to expose your breast.

“We keep our work lives and personal lives separate.” A breathy moan escapes you when his lips reach your nipple.

“Agreed,” his replies are brief but affirmative. All he can focus on is tasting every last bit of you.

The way his hands graze down your side are too distracting. To get out your remaining thoughts, you push yourselves back up completely, narrowing your eyes slightly to make your point clear. “I take back what I said earlier today about us being enemies, but that doesn’t mean I am going to back down and let Naoya hand you this promotion on a silver platter. So everything in that office is strictly professional —got it?”

He pauses for a moment, as if he’s etching every word you said into his brain. He replies with a nod to confirm. “Professional. Loud and clear. Anything else?”

“I’ve already let this slide once, but after tonight—no apartments. It’s too intimate, and we need to keep this clean.” Or as clean as it can be.

Now you’ve piqued his interest. Choso tilts his head in confusion, but doesn’t let that stop his hand from trailing towards your waist. “Hmm you have a fair point… but if apartments are off limits and the office is strictly professional, any suggestions for a neutral zone?”

Before you answer, you let his touch guide you—bringing you on top of him until you’re straddling his waist. You pull yourself towards him before you whisper, “Let’s just say I know of a place with platinum doors, that’s private enough for us to feel alone, and equipped with everything we’ll need to have a good time.”

You grind yourself into him but this time you set the pace. It’s slow—excruciatingly slow for Choso, but deliciously playful for you. “I’m currently taking offers for regulars…well, just one.”

His hands find your ass and grips you tightly, allowing his bulge to press against your clit. “Keep talking.”

You let out a quiet moan when he slips his hand underneath your dress. “...and if I like them enough it’ll be free of charge.”

For a moment, you pause—remembering his offer from earlier. “but if I recall, you did mention something about returning a favor.”

Choso returns your comment with a wicked smile before hooking his fingers into your panties, “I did say that, didn’t I?”

He finds his way to your center, teasing you with the wetness that pooled below. His fingers graze against your folds, wiping up the mess you made between your legs and you can’t help your breath as it begins to falter.

“F-fuck, Cho—” you manage to get out.

Choso wraps his arms firmly around you and sets you back down on the couch. He sets himself up to pull down your panties, alternating kisses between your inner thighs.

You feel a rush of desire dripping from your folds. The last time you had your mouth around me, you made me feel so good.” he whispers. “Can’t wait until I get my mouth on your wet little pussy and make you feel the same.”

His breath, his touch—it drives you wild. Why does being here feel so wrong, but being with him feels so right?

As he slowly moves closer and closer to your core every nerve in your body lights up—

…Until you hear a jarring noise pierce through the room.

Beep. beep. beep. The sound of the oven timer blares from the kitchen, snapping you back to reality.

Choso pauses—looking back up at you until he processes what’s happening. When it finally clicks, he gives you a quick kiss to your clit before securing your panties back in place.

No, please—stay, your dirty mind begs.

Choso smoothly picks himself up, leaving you dumbfounded when he acts like the last few minutes never happened.

He extends his hand to help you up, but you can still see a glint of fire in his eyes. His tone is playful when he cocks his brow and says, “Well, I guess we need dinner before we get to dessert.”

taglist: @jud3thedude @makingtimemine @chosslut @liiiacke @trishiepo0 @celestialforce

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #choso smut #choso kamo smut #choso x reader #choso x you #kamo choso smut #kamo choso x reader #choso kamo x reader #kamo choso #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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se7ens-oc-heaven · 15 days ago

Text

And now, time for some oc writing!! Specifically, a self-contained piece for my SwSh oc Rex. I think of this as a sort of brief, non-chronological "timeline" piece for him, showing out-of-context snapshots to sort of give a sense of his main drive in the Legendkeepers story. Hopefully you'll all enjoy, this is my first time doing a format like this but I hope it isn't too confusing!

Context: Rex is my oc who follows the Shield storyline, becoming a champion of Galar and exploring the story and events in the Crown Tundra afterwards. His best friend, Ritsu, is a "Faller" who went missing when they were children, and never came back. This follows Rex and how he handles this disappearance as he gets older.

•••

Rex was eleven years old when he first heard the news that his best friend was reported missing. He was worried, of course. He loved his friend dearly. But, in the way you do when you're eleven, he also felt a sureness of how the world worked in a way that didn't always turn out the way it by all rights should have.

"Yeah, mum and dad have been losing their minds over it. You'd think the world was ending over here, never mind how Ritsu’s parents have been handling things," Rex said rather blithely to Hop, his neighbor and longtime friend. Ritsu's longtime friend. Hop, perched on the stone wall next to Rex, tilted his head at him, confused.

"They said Ritsu's gone though, right? That sounds awful serious to me," he countered, concern lacing his expression. Hop, by this point, had gathered the nature of the situation well before Rex did. Rex shrugged, swinging his feet aimlessly, heels battering the old stone wall beneath him.

"I dunno. I mean, it can't be that bad. His parents are always making a fuss if Ritsu misses so much as snack time, and you know he's aces at building super secret bases. He prolly just made a new one and didn't tell them," Rex explained, hopping off the wall with a muted 'oof'.

"Hey, maybe next time we go visit, we should ask him if we can sleep over in it! I bet it's so cool no one would ever wanna leave, and that's why no one's seen him yet!" He added excitedly. Hop nodded, eyes brightening, the enthusiasm infectious.

"Yeah, that'd be awesome!"

•••

Rex was ten years old when his parents were ready to let him take on his first Pokemon. Rex had been eagerly waiting for the day. Bursting with excitement when they told him the good news. But he asked, as politely as he'd ever asked anything, that he wait a year before getting one.

"Rex, dear, this is all you've ever talked about for so long! I don't mind, but why the change of heart?" His mother inquired, surprised.

"I was thinking I want to wait until Ritsu can get his, so we can get ours together and they can be bestest buds just like we are!" Rex beamed. His parents exchanged fond, if somewhat anxious glances.

"I don't have a problem with it," his dad chimed in.

"But... Ritsu may not even want a pokemon. You know how he gets around them," he added carefully, watching his son for his response. Rex, unphased, shook his head.

"It'll be fine! He'd feel loads better if he had one looking out for him, I know he would! And so'd his parents! I bet if they quit nagging him so much they'd all learn pokemon can be really cool too!"

"Rex! That's no way to speak about them!" His mother scolded him with a huff. Rex merely gave a cheeky shrug.

"It's true though!"

•••

Rex was fifteen years old when he decided to take on the gym challenge. His parents protested his decision, but he didn't care. He was tired of them getting on his case all the time anymore. Always the same thing, nag nag nag. Ever since Ritsu had disappeared, both his mum and dad had gone insane about keeping track of Rex, holding him accountable at all times. Rex was fed up with it.

"Ready to go, Miki?" He whispered to his Charmander, sitting on the bedroom sill next to him. Miki wagged her tail, the embers flickering in a mesmerizing fashion in the early dawn light.

"Char!" She squeaked eagerly. Rex shushed her, brushing a fingertip down her nose gently as a tactile reminder. He grinned down at the charmander in her little red bow.

"Alright. Let's go then, before we wake mum and dad," he murmured, gesturing with a free arm. Miki took the cue, hopping onto his shoulders, clinging for all she was worth. Rex took a final look down the wall, and - judging it clear - hauled himself down the side, keeping a solid hold on the windowsill now above him. He felt around for good footholds, inching his way down. Normally he'd have no qualms about just dropping right down into the bush below, full force. But he had to be quiet.

Miki whimpered slightly as Rex slid a little, missing what he thought had been a good ledge. She clung tighter as he fumbled around, adjusting his handholds once he felt his legs were stable. Rex took another look down. Should be good enough, right?

"Hold on, Miki," he whispered, and with a push he launched himself off the wall, landing on his feet below just in front of the bush. The momentum carried him into a kneel, and he rammed his knees down into the grass with a pained grunt. Oh, he'd be feeling that one later. But that was later, and this was now. And right now, he had to go meet with Hop.

"Whew.... Alright," Rex muttered to himself, shaking off the lingering pain from his graceless landing.

"Let's go!"

It would be several hours before his parents discovered what happened. Rex would be long gone for Wedgehurst by then, and fresh off of what would be his first of many legendary encounters.

•••

Rex was sixteen years old as he stared down death for the first real time. As he placed himself between Leon and Hop, the latter crying for the former to wake up, pull himself together, Death stared down at the scene before it with a blank apathy. Rex glowered up at the unfeeling hand just waiting to scoop them all up within its chilling grasp. He didn't care what it thought it was, it was out of line!

The creature - Eternatus, presumably - thundered a hollow, alien cry, and Rex readied his pokeballs. It'd have to kill him and his team before it could get to Hop and Leon.

•••

Rex was still sixteen years old as he tackled the chairman to the floor of the power plant. He'd never cared much for the man and his glib manner of speaking, but it had never been personal. Before now, that is.

Now? He wanted nothing more dearly than to make the older man pay for what he did. For endangering his pokemon. For endangering Leon. For endangering Hop, and nearly putting him through another loss. For nearly putting Rex through another loss.

Well. Rex almost wanted nothing more dearly than to make the older man pay.

Rex was sixteen years old as the other adults hauled him off of the beaten and battered chairman, voices blending together into a thick stew of concern and shock, worry and admonishment.

Rex was sixteen years old as he was escorted from the Hammerlocke gym, into a throng of cameras and microphones pushing and shoving greedily towards him, ready to feed.

Rex was sixteen years old as articles scrutinizing him flew off the press and as news reporters used his name as they would that of a storm in the daily weather report.

Rex was sixteen years old, a hero of Galar. A public figure.

Rex was sixteen years old when he became the Champion.

Rex was sixteen years old.

•••

Rex was twelve years old, nearly thirteen, when he attended his best friend's funeral. He didn't understand why. Ritsu was still missing. Not dead.

According to the adults, it was because there were no leads, no sign of Ritsu anywhere at any point, and so they had to assume the worst. Well, then the adults hadn't looked hard enough! That wasn't Ritsu's fault if they were bollocks at searches. They shouldn't have been giving up on him just for that.

Rex stood amid a mass of black, holding his baby charmander close to his chest. That shouldn't be out, someone had scolded, put it back in its pokeball.

No, Rex had said, standing firm. Miki has just as much right to be here as anyone. She wasn't hurting anything.

The adults continued to shoot him looks for the orange bundle in his black-clad arms. He let them.

Miki had been there for him through all of this. She didn't deserve to be cooped up in some ball just because the others thought she was lesser.

At least Hop understood. Over half of the times that Rex had looked up to see a disapproving glare sent his way, he also saw Hop giving them a hard stare of his own, inching himself in the middle of the line of sight. Rex would give an appreciative smile and Hop would hit him with a small grin of his own.

"You don't have to handle this alone", it seemed to say.

•••

Rex was sixteen years old as he stood next to his best friend Hop, in the midst of a panicked evacuation from the Darkest Day heralding the end of the world.

“Aaaagh, shit. How are we going to find Leon in this mess?” Hop bounced on the balls of his feet anxiously, trying to crane his neck to see past the people flooding out of the building.

“Stay calm. If there’s one thing I’ve learned researching about Ritsu, it’s-”

“Oh, drop it about Ritsu for one damned second!” Hop swore. Rex faltered, startled. Around them, alarms blared and a cacophony of voices swarmed in all directions around them.

Rex stared back at Hop, brows furrowed in a question he was too speechless to ask. Hop waved his arm in a sweeping motion towards everything.

“Now’s not the time! Just look at this! We have to focus on the now, on saving my brother!”

Rex found himself protesting without fully meaning to.

“Well, yeah, obviously. I wasn’t saying otherwise. I was jus-”

“No, I know! But it’s not the same! It’s not! The same!” Hop interrupted, voice raising.

“My bro’s still alive! Ritsu’s dead! He’s been dead, and I’ve let it go all this time that you keep blithering on about bringing him back or whatever, but now’s not the time!”

Rex fell still. Hop glared him down for a moment before it was clear no one was going to make a move otherwise.

“Ugh, screw this! I’m going to go find Leon! Or the chairman. Or. Something!” Hop scoffed, whirling on his heel and running off into the amorphous cloud of people.

Rex hesitated.

He had to go help too.

His feet felt welded to the floor.

Rex was sixteen years old as he stood, lost and alone in a crowd of people fleeing the end of the world.

•••

Rex was sixteen, going on seventeen years old, as the wind blustered around him, stealing his heat from his bones. He paid it little mind, all attention trained on the pokemon before him, its absurdly large head bobbing around in front of him. Chief Peony likewise bobbed in the air, suspended with telekinesis Rex had wagered, expression almost peaceful as words were spoken through him.

"I am Calyrex. I am the one known as the King of Bountiful Harvests. I have borrowed this man's body in order to thank you in person...so to speak."

The wind was surely stealing Peony's heat away. He hoped the chief could hold out a little longer.

•••

“Hold out just a little bit longer, Ritsu.”

Rex was eleven years old, nearly twelve, as he muttered this into his palm. He sat sullenly in his room, staring out the window, grounded for the third time that month for trying to take a train - and then ultimately, a plane - to Hoenn all by himself.

He was tired of waiting for the adults to get off their arses and find his friend! It was obvious he needed to take matters into his own hands! Not that his parents listened to a word he’d say. What would they know?

Dejectedly, he flipped through the pages of a worn comic book issue with one hand, disinterested in the panels and words he’d read over a dozen times by now. Only one speech bubble happened to catch his eye by chance as the pages scattered past, a shout bubble belonging to a desperate hero.

“Hold out a little bit longer.”

It was a phrase used often enough, especially in his favorite comics. Seriously enough. Ritsu was fine, Rex knew he was. But it felt appropriate, somehow, to apply it to the situation.

Hold out a little bit longer.

Rex was eleven years old, nearly twelve, when a knock on the door distracted him from a troubling line of thinking.

•••

“Hold on there, Rex,” Rex’s mum had laughed gaily, keying the number into the rotom phone. Rex, twelve years old, sat shoulder to shoulder with Hop, bouncing his knee in impatience as the egg before him glowed gently.

“But dad’s going to miss it!” Rex whined.

“He’ll still get to meet the baby pokemon that’s come out of it,” Leon reassured over the speaker. Rex had insisted everyone be present, even if it meant Hop called his brother while Rex’s mum tried - and failed - to reach his dad.

“It’s supposed to be a charmander, right?” Hop asked his brother.

“Could be.”

Rex startled from his pout, and his head whipped to the phone in Hop’s lap.

“You said it was an egg from your charizard, guaranteed!”

“I mean, who can really tell with eggs?” Leon laughed. Rex had just about wound up a retort when a telltale crack sound snapped in front of him. All eyes trained on the source.

The egg was hatching.

Everyone watched, spellbound, as the egg broke open in a blaze of light. A little orange lizard sprawled out from the broken shell, stretching with a tiny squeak of effort, before large aquamarine eyes turned up curiously towards Rex.

“Hullo there,” Rex whispered, leaning closer to the tiny charmander.

“Want to be my friend?”

•••

Rex was twenty five years old as he stood, uncertainly, in Eterna forest, an aged flute clutched in both hands. Beside him, Miki, his charizard and most faithful companion, leaned down to huff at the instrument. Rex chuckled, and stroked at her muzzle soothingly.

“Yeah, I hear ya. ‘S now or never, huh?”

At his other side, Calyrex nodded sagely.

“It’s time, Rex,” they confirmed. Rex took a deep breath in. And out. Then, holding the time flute up to his lips, he began to play.

The trio heard a noise akin to if glitter were a sound, and a delighted laugh chimed across the forest. Rex opened his eyes to see Celebi, hovering in front of him expectantly.

“Calyrex?” Rex prompted, still nervous. Calyrex nodded.

“Celebi is ready,” they affirmed. Rex nodded, a smile starting to spread across his lips as it sank in.

He’d done it.

He’d finally be bringing Ritsu home.

Rex was twenty-five years old as he looked Celebi in the eye and said,

“Let’s do it, then. Take me back to Hisui.”