#apologies it's long but like you know me with my pinned posts

[ordinary-barbie]

scary dog privileges.

summary: Nobody's messing with you as long as Rafe Cameron is around.

pairing: rafe x sweet!pogue!reader

word count: 1.7k

tags: fem!reader, swearing, a guy acts like a creep towards reader, fingering, cunnilingus, p in v sex (protected), mutual orgasms

note: dipping my toes into obx fanfic after hyperfixating/crushing on Drew Starkey and reading a ton of Rafe stories, haha. I have not seen the show but I'm shooting my shot here anyway!

~~~~

They say that opposites attract, which couldn't be more accurate regarding your relationship with Rafe Cameron.

Rafe was the Kook king of Kildare Island, someone who oozed cockiness and arrogance. Meanwhile, you were a soft-spoken Pogue. When people spotted the two of you together, they couldn't wrap their heads around it, and frankly, neither could you. Rafe had his pick of any girl on the island - especially the Kooks - but somehow he only had eyes for you, which warmed your heart.

It all started last year, with a party at Tannyhill to celebrate your class graduating from high school. You were content to stay under your covers, binging Love Island Australia on Hulu, but your friend Olivia had begged you to come with her. Eventually, you relented, your curiosity about one of Rafe Cameron's famous parties getting the better of you.

Within five minutes, you'd ran into Rafe—literally. You'd been swaying to the music and accidentally bumped into him, spilling your drink all over his shirt. You'd been mortified, apologizing profusely and insisting on helping him clean up.

Rafe was a goner ever since.

Now it was time for another Tannyhill bash to celebrate the start of summer, and you were squarely by Rafe's side. In the year you'd been together, you'd discovered how protective your boyfriend was. He held onto you like an anchor, always having an arm wrapped around your waist or shoulders, no matter if he was talking to Topper and Kelce or kicking some rando's ass at beer pong. You appreciated it; parties often made you feel like a nervous baby deer, and it was nice to have someone to hold on to.

Unfortunately, you couldn't always be joined at the hip. "I'm gonna piss but I'll be right back, baby," Rafe promised, giving your ass a light squeeze on the way to the bathroom. As soon as your boyfriend was out of sight, your smile dropped. While you'd made an effort to get to know Rafe's friends, you were still incredibly nervous in a house full of Kooks.

To kill some time, you scrolled through Instagram, giggling at Olivia's latest story. She'd posted herself having a "friendly pizza sesh" with a guy, but you knew she'd had a huge crush on him since high school.

Suddenly, a shadow passed over you. "What's got you laughing like that, pretty girl?" You jumped, startled by the unfamiliar male voice.

A smirking guy with short, curly dark brown hair and glinting hazel eyes sauntered up to you. "Hey, I'm Aidan. I'm new in town—but maybe a cute thing like you could show me around?" he lazily drawled.

Your skin prickled with discomfort. You suddenly wanted to shrink into yourself, but you forced yourself to smile anyway. "Sorry, I'm not interested."

Aidan laughed, undeterred, and leaned into you. "Playing hard to get, huh? That's kinda hot," he whispered into your ear, making your stomach churn.

"I said no thanks," you responded, laughing nervously. You should run. You needed to get out of there. But for some reason, you found yourself rooted to the spot, trapped with Aidan and the pungent stench of his cologne.

Aidan pouted, using his arms to pin you against the wall. "C'mon babe, just give me a chance. I don't bite."

"How many times is she gonna tell you to fuck off before you get the point?" Relief flooded your chest at the sound of your boyfriend's voice.

Aidan rolled his eyes. "Why don't you fuck off, dude? We were having a moment."

Rafe glared at Aidan, his eyes blazing with rage, and grabbed the other boy by the collar of his Lacoste polo. "That's my girlfriend, you jackass. And you're gonna step the fuck away from her. Now."

You suddenly felt a zinging sensation in your core, turned on by Rafe's behavior. He was so sweet and silly and kind but could turn into a snarling dog in an instant — definitely not someone to fuck around with.

Rafe released Aidan's collar and the brunette gulped, suddenly trembling with fear.

"I - I'm sorry man. I had no idea," Aidan stammered. "I'll leave her alone."

Rafe wrapped a protective arm around your waist, scowling at Aidan. "Get the fuck out of my house."

Aidan meekly nodded, scurrying out of Tannyhill. The party filled with laughter, with people cheering Rafe on. But Rafe ignored the commotion, only focused on you.

"I'm so sorry baby. I should've been there to protect you from that—that asshat," Rafe apologetically said, tenderly stroking your cheek. You leaned into his touch, instantly comforted by the warmth radiating from his body.

"It's okay, Rafe," you assured him. "It's not like you could take me into the bathroom with you."

Rafe frowned, kissing the top of your head. "Maybe I should. Can't have these fuckin creeps tryna mess with my girl."

You laughed, shaking your head at your well-meaning boyfriend. "I adore you, but I'm not gonna stand there and watch you pee."

Rafe flashed you a lopsided grin. "Why not? We've done way worse things in there. That poor sink has seen some shit."

You playfully shoved Rafe's shoulder. "Rafe Alexander Cameron! I can't believe my knight in shining armor is so crass."

"Don't act like you don't love it, baby," he casually replied, kissing your neck. You let out a soft moan, tilting upward so Rafe could have more access.

The two of you were interrupted by the sound of Topper fake retching. "Begging y'all to please get a room," he pleaded. You couldn't help but snicker at Topper's dramatics.

Rafe lazily flipped off his friend before whisking you off to his bedroom and locking the door. "Get on the bed for me, pretty girl," Rafe said huskily, brushing his lips against your ear. Damn, that nickname sounded so much sexier from Rafe's lips than that douche from earlier. (Aaron? Andrew?)

You kicked off your sandals and laid down on top of Rafe's king-sized bed, pulling off your dress and underwear. Rafe quickly shed himself of his clothes and laid on top of you, kissing down every inch of your body.

"So I'm your knight in shining armor, huh? Well let me give my princess the treatment she deserves," Rafe drawled, relishing in the way your body reacted to his touch.

He plunged two fingers inside you, pumping them in and curling them right against your sweet spot. You gasped, loving the way he stretched you out. Rafe had been the only guy you'd ever slept with and at this point, you couldn't imagine yourself with anyone else; how could you, when you've only experienced the best?

You began to crave more than just his fingers, however. "Rafey," you whined, fully overcome with lust.

Rafe chuckled, lazily rubbing at your clit. "Use your words, princess. Tell me how to make you feel good."

You gulped, still feeling a little timid when it came to expressing your desires in the bedroom. "I need—I need your mouth, Rafey. Please."

Rafe knitted his eyebrows in mock confusion. "Where, baby? Your lips? Your cheek? Your forehead?"

"Rafe Cameron. Eat my pussy before I explode," you begged, your horniness taking over.

Rafe smirked, pulling his fingers out of you before slowly running his tongue across your folds. “Fuck, I love it when you talk dirty. Almost as much as I love this sweet little pussy. She's already so wet for me, holy shit."

You whimpered, arching your back in ecstasy as Rafe continued to pleasure you, kissing and sucking at your clit. You felt that familiar fire in your stomach, a sure sign that your climax was fast approaching.

"Oh, Rafe—'m gonna cum," you moaned, your legs shaking. Rafe sped up his movements, rubbing your clit with his thumb and index finger while pumping his tongue in and out of your hole. Eventually the dam burst and you felt your orgasm wash over you as your legs clamped down on either side of Rafe's head.

You took a minute to come down from your high, admiring the sight of your boyfriend with mussed-up hair and your glistening slick decorating his face. Even while looking totally disheveled, Rafe was a work of art.

Rafe wiped his face with the back of his hand, savoring the rest of your juices on his fingers. "Always my favorite meal baby," he purred. "But now I need to be inside you. Turn around for me, princess."

You shifted your position on the bed so you were lying on your stomach while Rafe rummaged in his bedside drawer for a condom. You heard him unwrapping the foil packet and rolling the condom on before feeling the head of Rafe's cock teasing your hole. You let out a breathy moan, loving and loathing the teasing simultaneously.

Rafe held on to your hips as he pushed into you, thrusting in and out at a steady pace. "Can't get enough of this pussy," he grunted. "So warm and tight f'me."

The din of the party going on downstairs faded away, and you could only focus on the sounds of sex occurring in the room: the duet of moans between Rafe and you, the creak of the bed, the sound of skin slapping against skin. A year ago, you couldn't imagine coming out of your shell like this. But now? Well—

"Gonna cum again, Rafey," you breathily blurted out, feeling your pussy clench down on Rafe's cock.

"Fuck yeah, princess, just come all over my cock," Rafe groaned.

Almost as if on cue, you felt your climax wash over you, and Rafe helped you ride out your orgasm before spilling his load into the condom. You had a fleeting thought about Rafe shooting his cum inside you instead, but you weren't quite ready for that yet.

You and Rafe took a minute to catch your breaths before he took off the condom and tied it up, tossing it into the wastebasket next to his bed. He rolled over on his side, enveloping you in his arms and burying his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

"Baby, you're incredible," Rafe murmured, kissing your shoulder.

You smiled, feeling light and airy inside. "Rafe, you're incredible. Thanks for being my scary dog earlier."

"I'm sorry, 'scary dog?'" Rafe repeated with a laugh.

"Scary dog privilege. It's something I saw on TikTok," you explained. "Basically it means that if you're with an intimidating-looking person, people will leave you alone because they don't want to mess with a scary dog. And seeing you be protective like that? It was pretty hot."

Rafe fondly gazed at you, stroking your hip. "Well shit, I'll be your scary dog anytime then, baby."

[peridots-pixiwolf]

[Start ID. A green-toned drawing of two characters from an original universe, shown from the shoulders up. It's framed as though they're taking a selfie. On the left is Heathrow, a human with dark skin, long hair, a good number of facial scars, and two painted lines below each eye. He wears something akin to a green hoodie, with fluffy plant matter sewn into the back of the hood. On the right is Crassie, a half elf, which in this universe entails long pointed ears, a pair of short pale horns, a slightly rabbit-like nose and markings under her eyes. Her skin is olive-toned, sporting a couple distinct scars on her face and hand, and she's wearing what is essentially a bush and spiked glovelets. Both of them are smiling, Crassie a little bit wide-eyed and Heathrow with a fond expression. The background's a saturated green with the text "1 YEAR!". End ID]

A redraw-in-spirit of the post from last year's Feb 16 that introduced these two to my blog. It's their birthday :]

[angelbarelywrites]

♡ mine | tommy hewitt x reader

♡ fandoms; texas chainsaw massacre remake/ the beginning

♡ characters; thomas hewitt

♡ reader; AFAB body description, second person POV

♡ cw; graphic sexual content, implied voyeurism, breeding kink, light daddy kink (just calling him daddy? wasn’t sure what to tag that )

♡notes; i feel the need to apologize for this one lmao. i didn’t intend for this to see the light of day but i felt we needed more smut around here and this was already sittin in my personal folder

i don’t know that I’ve ever posted detailed smut anywhere before? so lmk how i did, i still haven’t even asked to get my friend to beta read so I’m sure There’s Issues.

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

“Oh fuck, baby,” You sighed softly, letting your head roll to the side as you ground on Thomas’ thigh - the mountain of a man pushing his leg up with a huff. Luda-Mae, Monty, and Hoyt had taken a rare trip to their cousins’ place upstate, and left Thomas and yourself in a…sticky situation.

It had already become a war of attrition with you living there, each of you testing the other’s boundaries as you tried desperately not to cross the line. Thomas was allegedly a good, Bible-following boy- and you a shy little virgin . But god, something about Thomas just made you crazy. You needed him- and you’d gotten so shameless that you’d let him do just about anything to you.

That’s what landed you there, trying to entice Thomas and only ending up a squeaky mess as you rode his thigh. He was steadfast for a man years pent up- seeming to find great pleasure in making you unravel without cracking himself. Of course, you had no idea of the hours he spent fucking into his own hand as he imagined you around him, stealing your panties from the laundry bin and palming himself to the sight of you splayed out sunbathing in the yard. Even now you seemed too hazy to notice his cock straining against his trousers, or his fingers dug into the couch to prevent himself from touching your body. The way he trembled as he felt you making a mess on him, the only thing between your slick cunt and his leg your already soaked lacy panties…

His laser focus was broken by something entirely unexpected. You whimpered and hid your face against his chest, mumbling “Daddy- please—“

He wasn’t sure if it was the phrase,the tone, or both that finally broke his resolve- but either way he pinned you against the floral sofa forcefully, snarling like an animal.

“T-tommy- what- I’m sorry—?” You squeaked, seeming utterly confused. Did you even know what you’d said to him?

He growled and quickly signed ‘Again’. You blinked, perplexed look quickly replaced with embarrassment. You whined and tried to hide your face but he snarled again and made you look at him. ‘Again. Now.’

“…daddy. Please. Please I need you. Please—“ You begged, panting weakly as you writhed uncomfortably and unsated.

He rutted against you quickly, moving and kissing your neck sloppily. “Mine,” He rasped quietly, a rare sound even for his partner “Mine. Mine. Mine.”

“Oh my god Tommy- please- I need you to give it to me- I wanna feel you inside-“

He made quick work of his belt, pushing your dress up carelessly and making just as quick a job out of ripping your undies clean apart.

You yelped but replaced the complaint with a blissed out, shuddering whine as he finally rubbed against your bare pussy. “Oh fuck…please- put it in-“

He grunted and pushed your legs back, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours as you felt his weight pressed against you. Even in this moment, he tried his damndest to be gentle, looking your face over for the slightest bit of fear or apprehension. “Tommy, please. Fuck me.” You whimpered out softly.

He pushed in carefully , having to stop only halfway in as you squeezed around him. He was huge, long and girthy and a painful stretch even with you relaxed. He gave a grunt and nuzzled you, hips twitching as he reached between you. Clumsily, roughly, he found your clit and slowly rubbed, purring in approval as you mewled out his name.

He was able to jerk his hips and finally bottomed out with a low groan, face buried in your neck. He held still, taking a ragged breath to try to regain control- but you didn’t want control. You needed him to lose it completely.

“Daddy, please. I want you to fuck a baby into me,” You murmured, letting a desperate whine leak into your voice. It was a bit of a long shot- but he was so possessive. Why wouldn’t he want to breed you?

Thomas’ eyes darkened at the thought and he gave a low noise you could barely classify as he pulled nearly all the way out and snapped his hips, setting a brutal pace.

“Oh god-“ You yelped, bracing yourself on his huge arms as he pounded into you, the entire couch creaking and slamming into the wall at the force. You lost any coherence you had as he again teased your clit, mind blank. You got exactly what you wanted, and it was too much in the best way possible.

You came first- you didn’t know if it was because of his stamina or because even in a frenzy he still needed you to feel just as good. You were almost crying as he continued, overwhelmed and overstimulated - and wrapping your legs around his waist to make sure he didn’t stop for a moment. “Baby please- inside- I want you to finish inside-“ You mewled out in your haze- but damn if you didn’t mean it.

That was all it took, unsurprisingly, for him to thrust one last time and fill you with a snarl. He peppered your face in soft kisses, giving a heaving sigh as he relaxed. You tried to move but he growled, keeping himself firmly inside of you. You blushed a bit as you saw his intense expression “You ah…you really liked when I asked you to knock me up, huh?”

He nodded, huffing at you.

“…you know we have all night to try again, yeah?”

He grunted and finally relented, pulling out and smirking at the sight of his seed dripping down your thighs.

“Tommy baby? I love you.” You sighed sleepily

He looked up quickly and seemed shocked. Man of few words that he ways- and never having dreamed he’d need to learn the sign, he took your hand and pressed it against his chest. Right above the heart. In your mind, there was no better way he could have said it; he loved you too.

[cupidkyu]

can you repost the top Kinich hcs PLEASE

DOM TOP KINICH HCS

— gn!reader, brat taming implied,mean kinich,org4sm denial(?), degradation, overstim.

ts took so long 2 answer but yes,idk why it keeps taking down my posts but here ya go!!!

kinich definitely degrades you in an indifferent tone, making you feel inferior compared to him, looking down at you with a boring gaze as he fucked into you m1ssionary.

and enjoys tying your hands together! he likes watching you squirm and struggle against the rope bounding both your wrists together while he acts all gentle with you,yet his tip presses so firmly against that spot,youre whimpering and wailing for him to go faster,he'll give it to you, don't worry. but just stay as a good little toy for him, okay?

“you're so annoying.” he'd sigh, thrusting so deliberately slowly,his eyes never laying off of you,his nails digging into your neck as your hips buck up against him so desperately,your mewls only turning him more each time,“please- I-.. ngh~ kinich- I'm sorry-” you'd apologize pathetically,so pathetically. “for what? for acting like a lil' bitch? or sorry for not being able to satisfy me?” he spat coldly, punctuating his words with a harsh slam this time, letting out a quiet groan as a squeal escaped from you. of course,he didn't mean what he said. he just loves watching you protest,he just loves your little 'i can,i promise!'s. can you blame him?

kinich loves watching you beg for release,you wanna squirt,you wanna spill,just for him. but he never lets you,at least not so fast. he likes watching tears drip down your eyes,your bottom lip shaky as you try your best to speak and plead for him to allow you to come. he'll fuck into you so roughly,but warning you that if you ej4culate without his permission, he'll punish you!

sure,he's a little mean when hes wrecking you senseless,but he still tries his best to show you he doesn't mean to harm you in any way! you are his darling lover after all. however,it doesn't mean he'll pass up on the offer of watching his pet crying and sobbing to release!!!

you were throbbing from both pain and pleasure,your eyes rolling back as you moan repeatedly. “c-..come- please- I wanna- hnf~..! wanna come-! please- I-” you'd stumble between your words as he kept pushing himself inside you, cocking his head to the side as he speaks,“no, I've already told you. you're not going to, unless I'm close.” you nod weakly,not wanting to upset your lover. he rubbed your waist softly to remind you that he loves you a lot,hiccups escaping your throat as you took his cock<3 but you couldn't help but immediately fold when he pushes a little bit to deep and rough inside you, causing you to shiver and cream, earning a disapproving look from him.

kinich bends you over the bed, changing the position a little. his finger twirls a strand of your hair as you cry from the harsh,messy treatment you're receiving from him. your eyes twitching uncontrollably when he keeps rubbing that one spot. your thighs covered in light red from how harsh he was spanking them.

he keeps your head down with one of his hands as he wrecks your hole, squeezing and clenching around him as your legs tremble from the nth or4gsm. globs of tears staining the bedsheets as he keeps you pinned down.

oh how pretty you looked when hes fucking you like there's no tomorrow, finally letting you come but with a catch,he makes you spill over and over! your hair is tugged,yanked,used as a handle for him to use,your neck covered in bruises and bites. you were filled,so full, completely full. you could feel his cock over and over again while you're full of his sem4n. “does it feel good,hm?” he'd ask, already knowing the answer,his free hand tracing your back,“y-..yesh! feels so- goood~..! s-soo good~” you'd blabber. you could suddenly feel his palm against your reddened thigh,you shrieked so adorably, earning a chuckle from him as he practically splits you in half. he shoved your face down against the bedsheets,your now whines muffled as he continues to ram himself inside you,how long will this last? who knows! but you just feel so much at once while hes tearing you apart,maybe he should focus on making his beloved come over and over again!>_<

@cupidkyu

[cryptictongues]

Tiny Dots on an Endless Timeline

pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Mutant!Reader rating: Explicit (MINORS DNI; 18+) word count: 28.5k summary: "It’s been a few years since you'd passed, dying in one of the earlier Sentinel raids. He watched you die. He watched you beg and plead for him to get everyone to safety as you used your gift to keep the Sentinel’s away. It’s his last memory of you; a memory that makes these missions harder. But the idea that stopping all of this from happening could save you, could give him more time with you, gave him something he too hasn’t felt in a long time: hope."

warnings: slow burn, angst/smut/fluff, pining, grief, death, panic attacks, intimacy, unprotected vaginal sex, nipple play, grinding, making out, overstimulation, aftercare

Author’s Note: In this fic, there is some dialogue from the movie used and lyrics from Roberta Flack's "The First Time I Ever Saw Your Face". I do not own the rights to either and they are only used to help the plot of the story.

Please read my pinned post before following me! Minors and ageless blogs will be blocked as this blog’s content is NSFW.

[AO3 link]

Abandoned Chinese Temple; Shanxi Province, China; Year 2023

Logan didn’t have any high expectations when it came to missions. He has learned time and time again that every mission in this war creates loss. It seemed like every time they had a chance, that chance was quickly vanquished. He would convince himself for the longest time things will get better. They have to get better. All wars end eventually. It’s just a matter of when and what the casualties will be. But right now, the end is nowhere in sight.

They were safe for now, hiding out in an old temple that has aged and weathered away with the times. Being back with everyone, seeing who is left of them, sits heavy in Logan’s chest. Having people he cared about ripped away like they were nothing, no proper burial or goodbye, aged him like nothing else. While physically he was still in his proper form and shape, mentally he was struggling.

Charles is giving a history lesson on the Sentinels, giving information many of the younger mutants were not fully aware of. Logan is aware of what this is leading up to, a plan Charles and Erik conjured up as a last resort. It’s smart, but even when it seems too good to be true, he must remind himself the same thing: do not have any expectations.

Logan notices Charles is quiet, and everyone’s attention is on Kitty. She had been talking and even though Logan had zoned out for a minute, the look on her face says it all; it’s impossible. 

“You have the most powerful brain in the world professor, but the mind can only stretch so far before it snaps. It would rip you apart. I’m sorry.”

The gears in Logan’s head were turning. He doesn’t quite know the limits of his mutation, especially in regard to traveling back in time. However, he has taken multiple bullets and slashes. He has been through some of the worst experimentation imaginable and his body always recovered. If his body could bear all of that, what’s to say he wouldn’t survive going back a few decades?

It’s not long before everyone agrees that Logan going back was the only solution left. Charles and Erik walk him through what needs to be done the minute he wakes up as his younger self. Patience is what Charles keeps telling him, but of course he knows that will be challenging alone. Not to mention all the bullshit they were doing in the early 70s. Bastards.

“I do apologize, Logan. But I have the utmost faith that you can do this.” Charles chuckles, obviously hearing what Logan called them. 

“There is nothing left to lose.” Logan sighs.

“But there is plenty to gain.” Charles smiles, the hope on his features stronger than it had been in a long time. “To bring our loved ones home. To bring her home.”

Logan sucks in a breath, holding it for a second before releasing slowly. His hand goes to his neckline, pulling the chain from his suit to look at it and there it was. The engagement ring: a symbol of good things to come that will no longer come to fruition. A lifetime that was stripped away from him, a life with you no more. 

It’s been a few years since you’d passed, dying in one of the earlier Sentinel raids. He watched you die. He watched you beg and plead for him to get everyone to safety as you used your gift to keep the Sentinel’s away. It’s his last memory of you; a memory that makes these missions harder. But the idea that stopping all of this from happening could save you, could give him more time with you, gave him something he too hasn’t felt in a long time: hope. 

“It’s good to see that spark in your eyes again, Logan.” Charles says. 

Logan huffs under his breath. “I guess my emotions are starting to show on my sleeve, huh?” 

Charles laughs, before moving on into the other room. “You’ve grown a lot since I’ve first met you, Logan. And I have her to thank.”

Logan looks down with a smile, reminiscing only a little bit. You really were something else.

It isn’t long before he is lying down on the stone table with Kitty explaining everything to him. It all makes sense, but he can’t shake the fact he will be the only one to remember this war: the trauma, the anger, the dread, the grief. Even when this war will have no bearing on the new world he hopes to come back to, he will still live with that pain. 

“Alright, Logan. Calm your mind and think peaceful thoughts. This may sting a little.” He can hear the uneasiness in Kitty’s voice, but he is ready. There is no pain he can’t endure.

He closes his eyes and thinks about the happier times. Some of his fondest memories are of him simply waking up to watch the sun rays glide across your body in the morning. How you would curl more into his chest and mumble words with no connection whatsoever. How you would wake up, kiss his chest and keep going until your lips met his. He would always ask you to use your gift in those moments, wanting to hold you just a little longer before the day started. You were his little piece of heaven.

Even as he feels Kitty’s hands beside his head, he thinks maybe before he wakes up, he’ll dream as his mind travels. He’ll dream of better times and that alone would hold him over during the impending pain. Because what he wouldn’t give to have you in his arms again. That’s all he wants. 

His hand grips onto the ring attached to his dog tags, holding it close as he prepares to enter a different time full of the unpredictable. 

This is for you, baby. I will save you this time.

And with that thought, the hot pain scorches his temples and sets fire to his mind and then he is gone.

The Algonquin Hotel; New York City, NY; Year 1973

Music. Soft, calming music enters his conscience. It greets his mind, carefully shaking him awake. Then there is the sunlight. It is warm against his skin and he can feel it greeting him, telling him it is time to start the day. It all felt too familiar, and he thought he was dreaming. He felt something draped over his neck. It wasn’t heavy but there was a weight to it. He lifted his hand to touch and the moment he felt another hand, he smiled. Yes, I am definitely dreaming because here she is. He brought your dainty hand to his lips, kissing it gently as he intertwined his fingers with yours. 

But the moment is short lived as his other senses kick in. He took one inhale and knew immediately something wasn’t right. He turns to lay flat on his back, and he can’t help but curse under his breath. He feels like he is waking up to the pre-walk of shame as he looks at the woman beside him. He recognizes her, someone he had bodyguarded for a period of time and occasionally let her warm his bed. Well, he let her do a lot more than that. 

If only he had the foresight to have kept it in his pants. 

He sets her arm to her side and attempts to get out of the bed. He feels the water hold him back, and he groans deeply. Whoever invented water beds can fuck off.

He stands to his feet, taking in his surroundings. He recognizes the room and knows he’s in the Algonquin. The room has its signature set up, with its warm tones on the walls and floor, the plant hanging from the ceiling. He’s been in this room before, or at least another copy of it. He sees the mirror between the two windows, and he walks up to see his reflection. 

Holy shit…

He looks the same, but the differences are prominent. The gray that was once at the corners of his hair and beard were gone. His head of hair looked fuller and was back to his original brown state. His body didn’t look much different, but he felt rejuvenated. It looked like his body hadn’t endured much. He looks down further and can’t help but smirk. Heh, still got it.

His sights go to the window, and he peeks through the blinds, only to once again let expletives fall quietly from his lips. He knew it had worked, but seeing Times Square without its vast array of screens made him take a step back. There is a strange emotion forming in his chest, and while he can’t describe it, he can tell it’s good.

“Holy shit,” he mutters in awe, taking in all the minute details. “It worked.”

He feels relief, as well as curiosity as he scans the city in its older form. Charles had said he was a very different man during this time. He wonders what he will be walking into, and how he will prepare for the moment where Charles will think he’s full of shit. 

But his mind drifts as he looks down onto the street, street musicians on the side playing their instruments for spare change. He remembers you telling him that was something you did for a while with empty storage containers and food bins as makeshift drums… right here in the city.

His heart aches at the thought that you are out there somewhere, living your life day by day like nothing was wrong. You had told him you had a bit of a rebellious streak in the 70s, especially when you were playing music with a bunch of punks most nights and living out of a van. It reminded him a lot of himself, how he would have some kind of gig to make money and then go home to his trashy, beat up trailer. 

He always told you how he would have killed to see you in those times, and now that he’s here he’s tempted. Maybe he could leave right now and take a quick peak around the city. He wouldn’t even interact with you. He just wants to see you breathing and alive. He wants to see you living your life to the fullest, even if it pains him to not interfere.

He scoffs at himself, shaking his head and releasing the blind shade. No. He came here to do one thing, and that was to find Charles and Erik. He knows that if he plays his cards right, everything will turn out okay. The mutant population will continue to thrive, his friends will be alive, and you will continue to be by his side. Logan knows good things come to those that wait, so he will wait for you. Even if it fucking sucks to do so.

He goes to put on his pants, deep blue jeans with a big belt buckle, something he wore often. Some things really don’t change, do they?

He finishes covering himself, and the second his belt is strapped into place, he hears the door open. He turns to see three men standing by, talking loudly at the woman to get dressed as they stare him down.

Fuck.

Alleyway off of East 17th Street; New York, NY

“Fuck!”

You shoot up from your van seat, the thumping on the door startling you awake. You groan, holding your head as you blink slowly. You turn and see a cop at your window, signaling for you to roll the glass down. You grab the lever, rotating it slowly before squinting up at the man.

“Ma’am, you cannot park nor sleep here,” he emphasizes, snark laced in his voice. “You need to get moving.”

You see him whip out his ticket book, a quick scribble before he rips it and hands it over to you. 

“What? No warning?” You say defensively. “You gotta understand I was drunk last night. No points for not drinking and driving?”

He looks you up and down, grimacing at your attire. “For cretins like you, absolutely not. Unless you want to dispute the ticket in court, pay the fine.” He turns away, no consideration or anything. 

You scoff as he turns to leave, and you roll your window up quickly. You watch as he walks away, and you bring your hand up, curling your fingers in. Everything slows down before freezing all together, only to then reverse in swift motion. You watch the cop rework his steps as time turns back, and you keep going until you see him drive back from which he came. You continue to let time go, so you’d have enough of it to get the hell out of the alley, before releasing your fingers. Time slows again and then it goes on like nothing has changed. You glance at the ticket, noting he had filled the ticket out prior before to scaring the daylights out of you.

“Fucking pig,” you jeer, crumbling the ticket up and throwing it to the back. 

You start up the van, pulling out of the alley slowly before turning onto the busy street. There was high traffic per usual, people pushing to get to their jobs. You glance at the clock to see it is nine in the morning, and hum at the amount of time you have before your gig tonight. You are tempted to find another place to park, to sleep off the dreadful hangover plaguing your head. You knew taking all those shots the night prior was a terrible idea, but the drinks kept coming after such a good show. It helps too that your mutation keeps everything in check, a fact that makes you grin.

Being able to control time, rhythm and pace come naturally to you. You are always able to keep a perfect tempo and can change it up at your will. While punk music has never been about perfection, it always helps that you can pull everyone back in if things get too out of hand. People tell you you’re a prodigy, but if only they knew. Your bandmates don’t even know, and while you know they would embrace you, you felt it was always better to keep things hidden. Especially since you tend to use your power to save your ass far too often.

You decide to drive to central park, thinking some fresh air would stop your head from pulsing. You make a turn onto 44th Street, wanting to get to the main road for a straight shot to your new location. However, as you drive down, you start to feel strange. Your head was pulsing more, like your mind was trying to break down a door to give you a warning. It becomes borderline painful, and you can’t help but pull over onto the side of the street. 

You put your hazards on, opening the door before getting to the sidewalk. You squat down, dry heaving a little as you work to calm your mind down. You shut your eyes, rubbing your temples to ease the ache. And then as quickly as it came, it stopped. Your eyes open, looking around to see you are in front of the Algonquin. 

What the fuck?

“I must have really outdone myself last night,” you mutter under your breath, standing up fully to get back into the van.

You get in and go to turn the hazards off, but you stop when you notice a man walking out of the hotel. You watch as he walks with purpose, getting into what looks to be a green 1970 Buick LaSabre. Your brain glitches, trying to process something that doesn’t exist. You don’t know him. You’ve never seen the man before. So why is your brain acting like you do?

You watch him drive off with a screech, and you watch until he is no longer in sight. You stare off into the distance for a minute, thinking what the hell just happened. It was new, and it isn’t like anything you’ve ever experienced. The aftermath settles in your chest with a weird sense of longing and it makes you even more confused.

I definitely drank too much last night.

Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters; Westchester, NY

Logan knew the peaceful thoughts wouldn’t come easy, but god damn the entire morning has been far from peaceful. 

The altercation at the hotel ended with the three men on the floor, dead or alive he wasn’t sure. He could’ve handled it better, but the shock from seeing his old claws and the excruciating pain from the bullets sent him into a frenzy. He had truly forgotten how painful bullets felt when his bones weren’t covered in metal. 

Driving from New York City to Westchester didn’t help his mood. He’d rather suffer a thousand stab wounds than drive in traffic and deal with dumbass drivers. The only upside was he had time to think about his approach with Charles, and how he was going to convince him that he was serious. He had a pretty good idea of what he needed to say and was feeling confident. As long as there were no obstacles, he could get this done. 

But that all shattered when Hank opened the damn door. He hadn’t even considered his presence, but Hank was a pretty understanding guy. He’d understand, right?

Boy was he wrong. 

He definitely underestimated how strong Hank was, especially after seeing him as a younger man. Their tussle had landed him onto the marble table in the center of the foyer and with Hank roaring at him from the chandelier. It was no surprise that the one person who still lives here came out: Charles.

Logan’s first thought after looking at Charles was how much of a bum he appeared to be. He wasn’t one to judge, but to see his mentor in such rough shape was perplexing. It looked like the optimism he always held so close was far gone, which was made clear when he laughed in Logan’s face.

Charles did say he would need to be patient with him, but fuck he was a pain in the ass. Logan understood, as he wasn’t much better when he arrived at the mansion, but if he was this much of an ass as Charles is now, God help him.

At this moment, he was working answers out of Hank, trying to piece something together that would convince Charles that what he was saying is true. Then he heard footsteps from the stairs.

“I’ll help you. I’ll help you get to Raven.”

Which now leaves them all in Charles’s old office, discussing plans on how to retrieve Erik without getting caught. Erik had explained where he was before Logan got here, but now knowing what he did to get there makes this more complicated. Not that it already wasn’t, but it is for certain that his cell will be guarded to hell and back.

Once again, fucking bastards.

“What resources do we have?” Logan asks, hoping that Charles or Hank know someone with an ability to get them in and out. 

“Well…” Charles draws out. “I may know one person who could do it, but she will need some convincing. If we can find her, that is.” Charles chuckles, his hand rubbing his face in disbelief.

Hank’s eyes go wide. “You don’t mean…”

“She’s the only person that could pull it off, with her mutation and all.” Charles goes to stand, taking a swig of his whiskey in the process.

“Who is she?” Logan asks curiously, the odd mix of dismay and confidence in their tones intriguing. However, the second he hears your name, he freezes. 

“What?” Logan says with uneasiness, something the other two don’t pick up on.

“She was a recruit back when Erik and I were forming a team to fight against Sebastian Shaw.” Charles explains.

“She can control time,” Hank jumps in enthusiastically. “Move it forward, backward, stop it all at once.” 

“She left shortly after Cuba,” Charles takes a drink with that. “She said she didn’t want to be at odds with Erik and I.”

“Is there anyone else we could use?” Logan interjects quickly. The idea of seeing you is oh so tempting, but there is a fear that any sort of interaction with you will tear you away from him. To see you is one thing. To interact with you is another.

“There are mutants that can stop time telepathically, but she can do it all, which is why she is our best bet.” Charles adds, waving his hand like he is explaining something complicated. “The only problem is I have no idea where she went. I haven’t seen or heard from her in over a decade.”

Logan can’t help but scrunch his face, biting the inside of his cheek in contemplation. He knows he can’t let his selfishness get in the way of the lives at stake. If you really are the best bet to get Erik out, then so be it. 

“Fine, but we just use her to get Erik. After that, she is done.”

“Well, we have to find her first.” Charles shrugs. “I can’t use my powers, so we will need to find an alternative.”

“We have a phone book.” Hank suggests, already walking to the stack of books behind the sofa. 

“That is not going to help, but she was in a band around this time right here in New York.” Logan says, looking at Hank as he grabs the phone book. “She was playing gigs most nights in 1973.”

Charles and Hank look at one another, seemingly perplexed by this new knowledge. “How do you know this?” Charles speaks for them both.

“Let’s just say she becomes a protege of sorts for you in the future.” Logan leaves out the rest. This wasn’t the time to get into the details of his relationship. “I know the band name. We can call popular hole in the wall venues around the city to see if her band is playing tonight.”

“I’ll start looking through and making calls,” Hank offers, and sits down at Charles’ desk.

“Let us know if you find anything. The minute we know something, we leave.” Logan says. 

Logan leaves before a response is given and goes outside. The sun is bright, surprisingly not too cold for this time of year. He leans against the old brick, taking out a cigar he magically had in his pocket along with a lighter he had snatched off the desk. He cuts the end with his claw, and lets it sink back in as he puts it to his lips. He goes to light, his hand a little shaky but he eventually gets a good burn going, the taste entering pleasantly into his mouth and lungs.

He puffs out some smoke, sighing at how the events of today have turned. He had made the decision not to see you, and now he is going to have to. It’s a double-edged sword; he gets to see the beautiful woman he fell in love with, while also taking the risk of altering his and your future together. So many what if’s: what if something bad happens to you? What if you all get caught and you get sent to prison? What if you somehow realize you don’t like him in this timeline?

What if you die and he can’t save you again?

That thought alone makes him choke a little, lost in so much thought the smoke overwhelmed him. No, he can’t think like that. There is too much on the line for his emotions to play games. Besides, maybe in the end, regardless of if he ends up miserable, you’d wake up in the future safe.

He just wants everyone he loves safe.

Max’s Kansas City Nightclub; Manhattan, NY. 

Logan has been to many different nightclubs. Having been a bodyguard for hire, these types of places were nothing out of the ordinary. There were plenty of young women he was hired to watch, ones that wanted to rebel a little, that would come to these clubs to have a taste of freedom. They all had the same shit: drugs, alcohol, sex, and bad decisions.

He was starting to feel the latter.

It isn’t that he disagrees with Charles. Your mutation is powerful and would create easy access to Erik’s hold cell. You are the obvious choice. However, he can’t stop debating with himself on if dragging you into this will change the future; one where you and him are never to be. The thought alone makes his stomach turn.

Along with that, just seeing you in the flesh is enough to send him into disarray. Logan is far from a nervous man, but it has felt like an eternity since he’s seen your face. One look at you and he may not be able to hold it together. 

Him and Charles are sitting at the bar, nursing their shitty whisky. It burns the same, and by this time Logan is finishing his fourth glass, waving down the bartender for a fifth.

“Listen,” he hears Charles yell over the loud crowd. “I know you can hold your liquor but you should probably slow down.”

“Trust me, bub,” Logan shoots the fifth round down his throat, swallowing quickly. “You’ll want me as loose as possible for this.”

“What is with you? Is this about her?” Charles nods to the empty stage. “You acted very strange when discussing her today. Were you two close?” 

Logan looks down into his glass, his mouth opening and shutting not knowing what to say. It doesn’t matter, however, because before he can make a decision, drums are starting to beat down heavily. 

“1, 2, 3, 4!”

Drums start bumping, along with guitar and bass chords. The crowd starts running to the back where the stage is located, jumping and vibrating to the music. Logan looks to the stage, and lo and behold there you are on the drum kit. 

Even when you were no longer playing with a group, you played a lot at the mansion. You often taught music classes for students who just wanted to have some fun. It was also your way of releasing some steam. Charles had to soundproof the music room so your constant drum smashing wouldn’t cause a disturbance. 

But here you are, keeping perfect tempo as you keep up your rhythm. Seeing you in your element was so much more than he thought. You were an animal on those drums, totally submerged in your performance. You were smiling, interacting with other band members during each song. Whether it be adding vocals, doing theatrics with your drumsticks, or silly banter, you looked like you were meant to be up there. 

“She’s really good!” Charles yells over the music, and Logan can only nod. He is immersed in you, his nerves gone as he takes you in. He missed you so badly that seeing you again has given him some grace. He needs to be careful, but right now it doesn’t matter. He just wants to enjoy seeing you happy and alive. 

The set goes on for another twenty minutes, the songs short and quick. The crowd was getting more rowdy as the set continued. They were shouting lyrics back, heads rocking and popping as they jumped around. He sees you looking out into the crowd, only for your eyes to meet his own and then to his right. Your eyes went wide, and he turned to see Charles lifting his hand with a small wave. 

“Well, the cats out of the bag.” Charles mutters, not leaving eye contact with you.

Logan sees the shock in your features, and can sense you picking up the tempo slightly. Your bandmates didn’t seem to mind, however, as they picked it up as well and the crowd seemed to love it. The last cord plays, and the crowd cheers.

“We’d like to thank y’all for coming. Goodnight!” The vocalist said before the band walked off the small stage. You, on the other hand, didn’t follow. 

He watched you make your way through the throngs of people. The look on your face is unclear, but the moment you are in front of him, it’s like it’s just you two.

He fully takes you in. You looked about the same, maybe a little younger. You were wearing jeans with holes at the knees, beat up converse, and a white v-neck that revealed your collarbones quite nicely. A black leather jacket, that has seen better days, pulls it all together. There was a sheen of sweat at your temples, creating a shine in the baby hairs. Logan only had two thoughts in his head: that he desperately wishes he could pull you into his embrace and that you looked so sexy like this.

So incredibly sexy.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in.” You smirked, hands on your hips. 

“I must say this is a pleasant surprise.” Charles laughs, standing up from his seat. “It’s so good to see you, darling.”

“It’s good to see you too, and walking for that matter!” You pulled him in, hugging him tightly and kissing his cheek. It makes Logan shift slightly, a little jealousy lingering even though there is nothing he could do about it. 

You let Charles go, and you look at Logan, quirking your head as your eyes scan him up and down. He keeps his eyes on you, not budging.

“So Charles, who’s your friend?” 

“Ah, yes, well this here is-“

“Logan.”

Logan’s eyes go wide when your hands shoot to your head, gasping as you grip your head. He reaches out, wanting to do something to ease whatever is going on, but as soon as it starts, it stops.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I must have really overdone it with the drinking last night.” You mumbled.

Logan smirks. “A real party animal, huh?” 

“More like don’t know when to quit,” you sigh. “So, how did you know that I was playing here tonight? Or better yet, how did you even know I was doing this? Keep tabs on me up there?” 

“Actually, Logan mentioned it. He-” Charles starts, but Logan is quick to hit his back, making him double over from the impact.

“What he means is it is a long story, and we should go somewhere else to discuss it.” Logan says with urgency, hoping his tone takes your attention away from how he’s acting.

“Why not talk about it here?” You shrug, going to the bar to order a drink. “The night is still young.”

“This conversation needs to be for your ears only. It is highly confidential.” Charles interjects.

“Hmm,” you don’t look at him, finally getting the bartender’s attention. “Trying to drag me back into some bullshit, Charles?”

“Bullshit that could save everyone’s life, sweetheart.” Logan says. He isn’t used to your slight indifference, but it is something he is going to have to get used to. You are a different person during this time, after all.

You turn back to them, sighing before you lift your hand up, middle finger and thumb pressed together before snapping. Everything stops instantly. Drinks that are being poured freeze. People talking with others go still with mouths open trying to get the next word. The lights stop flickering, some looking to be out while others keep the light. 

Time goes still. Except for the three of them.

His eyes go to look at you, where you are wearing a smug look. 

“My ears only, right?” You say, lifting your drink like you are cheering for something. “So start talking.”

The Pentagon; Arlington, VA

The Pentagon was incredibly crowded, which was to be expected. Tours were taking place. People were rushing to get to their posts. Security was at each corner of the building. There is a lot of commotion, yet you knew this would be a piece of cake. And yet, you couldn’t believe you had agreed to do this. 

When Logan had explained he was from the future, a future where everyone will eventually become slaughtered, it took you aback. It was hard to think about. You knew the U.S. Government has an aversion to mutants, but to create a weapon to wipe them clean with Raven’s DNA? You shouldn’t be surprised, not with everything currently going on, but you are.

The plane ride was fairly quiet. Hank and Charles were in the cockpit, leaving Logan and you in the main lounging area. You had noticed Logan looking at you quite a bit throughout the quick ride. It was like he wanted to say something, but he couldn’t. You could’ve sworn you saw something akin to pining in his eyes, but you brushed it off. You didn’t know if it was his way of figuring you out, or if there was something else. 

You wondered if you and him are connected somehow. With the headaches coinciding around Logan, you couldn’t help but wonder if your mutation is doing something new, something it couldn’t do before because you have never met a time traveler. Not until now. 

Maybe you will get answers later. Right now, you have a job to do. 

You are standing in the middle of the Pentagon’s main sector, mentally preparing yourself for this. You would have to hold time for thirty minutes, enough time for Charles and Hank to reach and retrieve Erik from his cell. This only gives them fifteen in and fifteen out.

“Are you sure about this?” You hear Logan say from beside you. “We can find another way if it is going to be too much.”

He sounds so sincere, and it oddly does something for you. Here is a man you don’t know much about caring about your wellbeing. For someone of his apparent nature, it is endearing. 

“I’ll be fine, but I appreciate you caring enough to ask.” You smile at him, and the smile he gives back makes your stomach flutter. Just a little bit. 

“Alright here goes nothing.” You turn to look at Charles and Hank. “The second everything stops, grab an authorized personnel card off of one of the security guards and go quickly.” 

“And you’re sure we are the best people to do this?” Charles mutters, looking torn.

You smirk at him. “Oh, Charles. You may not realize this. but he cares about you. Maybe this is the reunion you need.” 

“I doubt it,” he grumbles but nods at you to go on.

You look forward, hands slightly in front of you before snapping your fingers. It isn’t instant like it usually is. It travels, people coming to a stop before everything is completely still and silent. It takes a lot of focus and precision on your part. You’ve never had to freeze an entire building, let alone one that runs so deep. 

As told, Charles and Hank make quick work, grabbing a card from a guard right by the door they needed to go through. Once the door shut, it was just you and Logan, who had insisted he stay in case something happens.

You sense his eyes on you again, just as he had on the plane. Minutes pass, and you think maybe he will say something, but no. It’s just radio silence. You could handle it on the plane, but right now? Absolutely not.

You roll your eyes at his behavior. “You psychoanalyzing me or something? I can multitask, you know.”

Logan moves so he is facing you, and he is only two steps away from you. You notice he is much taller than you, maybe by a foot. His attire is oddly fitting for someone from the future. The brown leather, the feather pattern on his shirt, and god the big ass belt buckle with blue jeans that fit his legs so nicely. You had to ask.

“So, if you are from the future, I gotta ask: did you come dressed like that?” 

He looks down at what he is wearing, inspecting himself. “What’s wrong with how I’m dressed?”

He looked so self-conscious. It was cute. “Not at all. Just not something I expected someone from the future to wear.”

“Well, technically I am in my younger self’s body. This is how I dressed in 1973.” He chuckles. “I guess I still dressed like this though, before everything went to shit.”

“So, you an old man now or something?” 

He smirks at you. “I’m probably older than your great grandfather, sweetheart.”

Your eyes widen at that statement. “Is that your mutation? Being immortal?”

“Amongst other things,” he holds out his hand, and within a blink of an eye claws are coming out from in between his knuckles. You tilt your head in awe, admiring the bones that are tinted yellow. He then lets them sink back in, the wounds healing instantly.

“Regenerative healing. That’s pretty neat,” you say. “Still must hurt though.”

“Every time,” Logan hums. “But you get used to it.” 

“I see,” you murmur, not knowing what to say after that. Luckily, Logan keeps going.

“You must practice a lot for you to stop time in a place like this.”

You can’t help the chuckle that slips your lips. “I wouldn’t call it practice. I just get myself into stupid situations.”

Logan grins, taking a step closer to you. “Yeah? Like what?”

“Well, a few weeks ago we got into a tussle with the police. They decided to start some shit at another club we were playing at. Gave me a black eye even.” You answered, oddly making light of the memory.

“Bet you still looked just as pretty,” Logan joked, but with the way he was looking at you, you’d think he was being serious.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter. “But then they started making arrests. That’s when I shifted time back. Warned my bandmates before they came in. They were confused about the black eye though.”

This made Logan laugh, and you swear your heart did a double take. Why was this man affecting me like this?

“I like the idea of you getting a little rough. It’s very different.” Logan purrs, and before you can ask what he means, you feel your powers start to weaken.

“Shit,” you curse, hands clenching in front of you. 

“What’s wrong?” 

You grunt in response, trying to pull yourself together. “How long has it been since they’ve left? Shouldn’t they be back by now?”

“It’s been about thirty minutes,” he confirms. “You are certain time has stopped in this entire building?”

“I’m very certain. I wouldn’t be struggling right now if it weren’t.” You say with gritted teeth, getting lightheaded. “Logan, I told them thirty minutes. If I hold on any longer, I’ll pass out.”

Logan is looking around, searching for something before he takes off in a path you can’t see. You are breathing heavily, trying hard to focus but you can feel yourself slipping. It’s like you are on a cliff holding onto loose rocks waiting for them to slip. 

“Okay look at me, baby.”

Baby?

You look to see he is holding a key card. He holds your attention, nodding to the door Charles and Hank went through. “We are going to walk over to the door. I’m going to open it with this. When I do, let go.” 

“Fuck, what if we get caught?” You whimper, the mental pain starting to get stronger. 

“I won’t let that happen again.” 

Again?

Before you could contemplate his words, he’s got his arm wrapped around your torso. His left hand holds your leather clad wrist, keeping you steady as two start to walk.

“Small steps, small steps. That’s right,” Logan encourages, keeping pace with you as you walk slowly. 

He’s holding you gingerly, like you will break if he lets go. It’s strange but you welcome it. You've never had anyone hold you with such care before. You were rough around the edges. Most people think you can handle anything, but it’s almost as if Logan has done this before; a common feeling you’ve had ever since you laid eyes on him.

He stopped at the door, pulling the keycard from his left pocket and scanning it. The light blinks green and he pushes it, keeping it open with his foot as he looks at you.

“You ready?” 

You nod slightly. “Just tell me when.”

“Now!”

You immediately drop your hands, and Logan is shoving you through the threshold. You gasp holding onto your chest as Logan keeps his grip on you so you don’t fall. You take a deep breath, calming yourself down enough to keep going. 

“We need to get moving. We will get caught if we stay here.”

Logan nods, letting go of you to look at the map beside the door. You miss his touch already.

“We need to get to this elevator,” he points to the elevator in the south wing. “It’ll take us to the kitchen that leads to the lower cell.”

Without another word, you two are running. You put your hands up again, freezing time again but only in the areas you two are passing. It makes your brain fuzzy, but you push on. Logan looks back at you from time to time to check on you, worry evident on his face.

“I’m fine, keep going!” You press. 

Before you two know it, you are both at the elevator. Logan is clicking the button repeatedly like it’ll come faster, and within a few seconds it opens. You both rush in there, and Logan repeats his treatment to the closing button before the doors ultimately close. 

You lean against the metal wall, taking a deep breath and praying to whatever God is listening that no one gets on this damn elevator. You don’t know if you have it in you to protect you and Logan if someone gets on. 

Luck was on your side, however. The elevator dinged, and when you looked up you saw it was listed as the floor you were getting off on. A sigh of relief escapes your lips, but it gets sucked back into your throat when you hear alarms. The elevator doors open and a multitude of men with chef kitchen attire run in completely drenched. 

Before either of you get crushed by the masses, you grab Logan’s hand and yank him out. You hear more commotion coming from down the hall, yelling and crashing. You walk past Logan, jogging towards the noise. You make it to the door, hearing the voices loud and clear, and you bust in to see the insanity. 

The kitchen was a wreck. The water is still coming as the alarm blares on. You see Hank trying to pull Charles off of Erik, but he won’t budge. Everything is a mess, and something about it sends you spiraling.

“Oh fuck no!”

You are hurling yourself at these men. You grab Charles’s jacket, and with the help of Hank yank him off of Erik. Hank flies to the floor, and you slam Charles to the wall. He looks so pitiful, and it makes you sick.

“I said thirty fucking minutes,” you seethe. “My power has limits, and this is the reason you all pushed them today? Because you couldn’t help yourself?”

Charles is silent, looking at you with complete guilt. Good, you think. He should feel fucking guilty.

“I could have passed out. You are so lucky I had Logan, or your ass would be going to prison.”

You let go of him, shoving him more into the wall as a warning, and turn to the other two knuckleheads. Hank and Erik are standing, looking at you in shock. They are really about to be in shock, however, because you weren’t done.

“You,” you pointed at Hank. “I know you hate your mutation, but your self-hatred almost fucked us all. I know you aren’t that fucking weak, especially to pull his scrawny ass off of that dumbass.”

“Well, it’s good to see you too-” you hear Erik start. You don’t let him finish.

“And you,” you shout, walking up to him and gripping the white prison uniform at the collars. “I know you are probably very shocked to see all of us. However, and understand this clearly, you do as we say. I am not about to have my future or anyone else’s fucked up because of you. You hear me?” 

Erik smirks at you. “Yes, ma’am.” God, you wish you could wipe that look off his face.

You huff, shoving him away from you. “Let’s get out before we get caught.” 

“It might be too late for that.” You hear Charles say, and you turn to see five Pentagon security members, plastic guns drawn.

“Charles,” Erik calls out. “Do something, Charles.”

“I can’t,” Charles says under his breath.

“Hands up or we will shoot!” One of the security officers yells, their fingers right on the trigger.

You groan at how worthless everyone is acting, and using your anger, you snap your fingers and immediately clench your fists. The cops freeze in place, and you are panting as your muscles suck up all the oxygen in your body.

“Someone better knock them out before I give out and-“ you are cut off by the sound of a pan connecting to skulls. 

Logan was knocking these men out with ease, his strength apparent as the metal clangs. He is moving like a natural, arm swinging precisely to hit each man standing. It was captivating and watching him breathing in and out in his drenched clothes was very hot. You could feel your underwear start to cling to you, and you knew it wasn’t just from the water coming from the sprinklers.

You let go, hands going to your knees as you catch your breath once again. Logan is immediately by your side.

“Let’s get out of here,” Logan commands, and he wraps his arms around your torso to sit you straight up.

“I got you, sweetheart. Just hold onto me,” Logan says in a low tone, like talking any louder would disturb the already broken peace.

Without a word, you grip onto him and you two walk out of the kitchen to the elevator. The others are waiting for you two, keeping the elevator open and soon enough you are all in. 

It’s amazing to you that you all made it out. Charles was smart enough to know to go through a back exit, and luckily Erik was able to move the cameras to face a different direction. It was as if none of you were ever there, other than the fact those security officers saw you. You’re hoping Logan hit them hard enough for them to forget.

Charles had parked the rental car close by, shoving yourselves in before going off onto the road. You are in the middle in the backseat, with Logan still holding you close. Erik was to you right, working to put on the jacket and hat Charles had brought to make him less recognizable. 

Well, less recognizable to fucking idiots maybe.

“Alright, where to now?” Erik asks, still trying to get the jacket on in the packed backseat.

“We need to get her home.” Logan replies.

“What?!” You shout, feeling complete disbelief. “Why am I going home?!”

“Listen, thank you for your help. But this is dangerous, and you shouldn’t get mixed up in it.” Logan continues, his tone a lot more serious than it has been today. 

“I just fucking infiltrated the Pentagon and now you are worried about dragging me into this mess?” 

Logan is quiet, and you only get more pissed off. Who the hell does he think he is? 

You push his arm off of you, twisting your body so you are looking directly at him. “I don’t know if you noticed, but if I weren’t there today, you all would’ve been fucked. I care about what happens, and y’all need me. So, I apologize but I’m fucking coming.”

Logan’s shoulders drooped, his hand going to rub his face. He breathes out, as if he’s trying to calm himself down, before turning to look out the window.

“Fine.”

“Good, so we are in agreement.” You say, before laying back against the middle cushion. 

You let your eyes close as the sounds of the cars and bumps of the road lull you to rest. The chill from the water sets in, and subconsciously you find yourself wishing those strong, warm arms that had held you so much today would wrap around you once more.

The Atlantic Ocean

Fucking bastards.

Logan doesn’t understand how Charles and Erik were ever friends. Imagining them as anything but seemed easier. Maybe it’s the full rage of testosterone in their younger bodies. It would explain the extreme yelling, bickering, anger, grief. He understands the need to release all of that, but he already hates flying. Getting the man who can control metal upset isn’t a great idea in an aircraft. 

Things eventually calm down, but what’s left is now a mess of broken glass and ceramic. Charles exits the lounge to go to the cockpit, and at the angle Logan is at he can see Charles with his head in his hands. He feels bad truthfully, seeing him so broken down and beaten up isn’t easy. It reminds him a lot of himself. Looking at Erik, who looks like he hadn’t been in a prison for almost a decade, irritates him slightly. But what irritates him more is that he almost crashed the fucking plane.

“So, you were always an asshole.” 

As if on cue, he hears the door to the backroom open and you walk out. You are rubbing your eyes, holding onto the wall as your eyes double take on the view. 

“Looks like I missed something eventful,” you yawn, walking over to start picking up broken glass.

“Hey, don’t do that. Let him do it,” Logan says, pulling a cigar out and putting it under the lighter’s flame. “He did this. Let him pick this shit up.”

Erik puts his hand up, letting you know he’s got it. As he starts cleaning up, Logan watches you carefully walk over to sit across the table from him. You lean across it, crossing your arms as you leave your eyes on him. “Give him a break. He’s been through a lot.”

Logan looks your way, taking another puff of his cigar. “Yeah, and he could’ve killed us.”

You shrug, leaning back into the seat while keeping eye contact. “Couldn’t have been that bad. I woke up to the plane flying smoothly.”

Logan takes another puff, a grin wanting to desperately pull onto his lips. Still a heavy sleeper.

“I think you just sleep like the dead,” Logan jokes, leaning forward with his elbows settling on the table.

“I guess.” Your head turned to the window, eyes closing and opening in slow succession. “But seriously, what did we expect? They may have similar ideals for mutant kind, but they are different sides of the same coin. I’m sure seeing one another after a whole decade makes it hard to keep everything bottled up.”

Logan nods in agreement because he can relate. When he saw you for the first time after what felt like a lifetime, it took everything in him not to pull you in. Even now, watching you as the light reflects on your face, he wishes he could seat you in his lap like he would after a long day of training. Having his arms around you as you curled into his side, feeling your warmth against him, made everyday worth living. 

There was some reprieve when he was helping you after you stretched your powers to your limits, but he longs for you. He longs for your body, your kisses, your comfort, your love. He longs to show you how much you mean to him, to tell you he loves you. It is too much sometimes, especially in the kitchen at the Pentagon. Seeing how aggressive you were and smelling your scent change to something of want is making everything so much harder. He was already so worked up, he could have easily snapped, but he didn’t and it hurts. It hurts so fucking bad. 

There is a part of him that wishes you weren’t here, so he could finally focus, but in reality he is thankful you chose to stay. He knows it is for selfish reasons, but at the same time he knew they’d be lost without you. You give him the strength to keep going; the strength to push forward, even when it’s painful to keep everything he wants to do and say inside. So, he gets it. He gets it so much.

Logan notices you looking at him, and realizes he was staring. He coughs, trying to hide his embarrassment as he puts the cigar to his lips. 

“So, is that why you didn’t join either of them after Cuba?” 

Your smile is small, like you were reminiscing. “Both had very good points, and it makes sense why they believe the way that they do. Charles tends to see the best in people and Erik sees the worst.”

“So, you couldn’t pick a side?”

“I was only seventeen at the time,” you say. “I wasn’t about to let two grown men tell me what to do, and I’m glad I didn’t. I’m not their keeper.” 

“Smart girl.”

You laugh at this, and it feels like dopamine is being injected into his brain. This is the first time he has felt… Joy? Happiness? He could listen to it for days.

“You said they sent you here together. Do they actually become friends again?”

Logan sends a small smile your way, but shakes his head. “It’s complicated.” And it really is. Logan is sure that if the Sentinel’s never came to be, they would still be at some sort of odds against each other. “Like you said, same coin, different sides.”

“I see,” you start to tap your fingers against the table, a nervous habit Logan had picked up on when you two met the first time. “Since we are talking, you never answered my question.”

Logan lifts an eyebrow in confusion, not realizing anything was asked. 

“The other night at Max’s. Charles said you knew where to find me. How did you know?”

Logan only hums, taping his cigar to let the ash pool into the crystal tray. He feels like revealing anything about the future is a bad omen, but his restraint is wearing thin, and he can’t help but relent.

“You told me.”

“So, we know each other in the future?”

Oh, you don’t even know the half of it, sweetheart.

“We do,” Logan breathes out. 

You leaned in closer, your jaw in your hands. “Are we friends?”

Not quite. “Sure, yeah. We’re friends.”

“Are we close?” You are smiling big, teeth showing. He missed that smile. 

“Very close,” he leans in towards you, faces a few inches apart. “So close that I know everything about you.”

“Yeah?” Your eyes flash. “Like what?”

“Ask me something.” He is feeling cocky now.

“Okay,” you draw out, looking around as you contemplate, before your eyes shine back at him. “What’s my favorite band?” 

“They don’t exist yet. Not for another couple of decades.”

“What? Really?” You gasped.

“The genre doesn’t even exist yet,” Logan grinned, seeing you surprised going right to his head. “But right now, it would probably be Velvet Underground.” 

“Wow, you’re good.” You compliment. “Okay, how about my favorite color?”

“Really?”

“Should be easy if you know me so well.”

Logan vibrates, loving the back and forth happening between the two of you. “It’s blue. Dark blue especially because you love how the sky looks after the sun has set.”

You look down, and Logan wasn’t having any of that, lifting your chin with one finger. He moves forward just an inch more. “You’re going to have to ask something a little harder, sweetheart.”

You shy away from him, still staying close, a rush of pink added to your cheeks. Fuck, you are so beautiful. 

“Okay, well,” you say, still looking away from him. “There is something else I can do with my mutation. What is it that I can do?”

Logan knows this answer far too well. It’s the only reason he was able to be with you as he is, even though he truly believes he would’ve fallen in love with you regardless.

“You can stop yourself from aging.” Logan whispers, not wanting the others to hear. “You use time to stop the clock in your body. You did it for a year after Cuba to try and gain back the time that was lost.”

“I wanted to finish high school, as crazy as that sounds.” You chuckle.

“More like you wanted to continue doing marching band,” Logan says, laughing as you smack his arm. 

“Oh God, you must really know me if you know that!” You cackle. “I started aging again after I graduated though.”

“Why is that? Didn’t want to stay seventeen forever?” Logan tries to make light of it, but he knows why. He always knows why.

“Well,” you paused, leaning back into your seat with your hands still on the table. “The war in Vietnam got worse. There were a lot of boys I went to school with that got drafted, and they didn’t make it. If they did, they came back completely altered. Made me realize this isn’t a world worth living in for too long, I guess.”

“I get the feeling,” Logan responds, to which part he isn’t sure.

“And now that I know that the future's so bleaker, is there really a reason to want to keep living for longer than you need to?” You were looking at him so genuinely, and it broke his heart. 

He sets his cigar down in the tray and goes to take your hands into his with a squeeze. He looks right at you, hoping what he’s conveying reaches your ears with sincerity and hope. “We can change that tomorrow, and when we do, you will have a reason to keep going.” 

The conversation continues for a while, going back to answering questions for you and seeing your face light up when he guesses correctly, and he does every single time. It’s dark out now, the new day counting down to start. Logan can feel himself getting tired, but you? You were dozing off fast with your head against the plane's wall. 

“Hey,” Logan reaches over the table, shaking your shoulder. “You should go lay down. We have a long day tomorrow.”

You yawn, stretching your limbs before blinking a few times. “Are you sure? I slept in for most of the day. You should take it.”

“I insist. Besides, I’m sure you don’t want to sleep in here with these bozos.” Logan looks in the direction of Erik and Charles, one sleeping in the chair and the other sprawled on the couch.

“I suppose you’re right, but will you be okay?” 

“I’m used to sleeping wherever, so this is nothing. Please, get some sleep.”

Logan watches you get up from your seat, walking over to him before leaning down to his ear. “Goodnight, Logan. Sweet dreams.”

He feels your lips against his cheek, and he inhales sharply. He turns to watch you go into the backroom, and after a long few seconds he releases in an exhale. He puts his head in his hands, rubbing his temples in some poor attempt to calm himself, but his thoughts run fast and there is no stopping them.

He can feel himself close to snapping. It’s like everything you do is calling him in, daring him to do something. He knows it is insane. You don’t know him. If he were to do something, confess everything, what would that do for the future? Everything he says and does can change what the future holds, and a selfish part of him doesn’t care. When it comes to you, he is a selfish bastard.

He leans back in his seat, closing his eyes. Tomorrow is the day things will be set right. When that happens, maybe he will wake up to a world where you are still there. He just needs to hold on a little longer.

Hotel Majestic; Paris, France; Day of the Paris Peace Accords

Getting into the hotel was surprisingly easy. You thought security would’ve been on a high alert, but it was oddly empty. Everyone is able to walk around freely without worry, yet you are still on edge. 

You don’t know why, but you’ve had an uneasy feeling ever since the plane landed. You keep relaying it back to nerves, but you know you are lying to yourself. Something isn’t right, and the lack of security here is only making you feel worse.

“Not much security here for a big event like today,” Logan says.

“It’s still a hotel. Anyone can still stay here.” Charles responds. “We still need to be careful though. Stay alert.”

You all make it to the staircase, and you see a map of the hotel. You point to the eastern wing, seeing how the third floor has a section for conference rooms. “Their meeting is most likely happening somewhere here.”

“Okay, let’s get there quick. We are running out of time.” Logan says urgently, and with that everyone is running up the stairs.

Logan is ahead of everyone, and you take notice how much his demeanor changed. He is ultra-focused, his mind only on one thing, and you can’t blame him. You’re sure he is under an insane amount of pressure to ensure he pulls through given the future circumstances. However, you’ve taken notice of how he keeps glancing at you with every chance he gets and it makes you wonder if there isn’t something else going on in that head of his.

Before you can ponder more on it, you hear yelling. You hear things moving harshly and what sounds like bodies hitting the floor. You all take a turn and see a flood of Vietnamese, Russian, and American military personnel running out of a room you can only assume is where your target is: Raven.

You all enter the room, and everything happens so quickly. Raven’s body hits the table, Charles is at her side, and Erik takes the tasers that latched to her body and gets them onto the man to the right of the table.

You hear a rapid beeping and to your left you see a man holding a device, red lines blaring as it goes off. You realize it is Trask, recognizing him from the papers.

You walk up, and before he can probably comprehend what is happening, you snatch the device from his hand. “I’ll take this”

You aren’t scared of him but you back away slowly, ensuring he cannot do anything behind your back. You hear another thump, and turn to see Logan against the wall breathing heavy with eyes screwed tight.

“Logan,” you speak up, walking towards him, but with a few steps in you feel a rush of pain to your head.

You collapse onto the floor, hands holding your head as you start to shake. The pain is sharp and static, forming at the base of your neck and wrapping around your head suffocatingly. You can hear someone calling your name, but it sounds distant. 

“Erik…” you hear the fear in Raven’s voice, and with all you can muster you look to see Erik holding a gun. The same one Raven had to kill Trask, now pointed at her head.

Your brain isn’t comprehending anything Erik is saying, but his face is stone cold. Any hope that you were missing something was lost because you knew what he was going to do. It doesn’t take a clear head to see that.

You try to put your hand up, attempting to stop Erik in his tracks. The second your fingers touch his ankle, he kicks it off and places his foot on your wrist. You moan in pain, his weight pressing down enough to bruise.

“I’m sorry, my dear. I’m afraid you are out of commission.” Erik says calmly without taking a peep at you.

Everything happens in slow motion. The pressure is off your wrist, a gun shot sounds, and glass shatters. Your vision is blurry, your head feeling as if it’ll pop off. The people in your vision blur together like paint bleeding in water. Voices are muddled and slow, but loud. You are in agony, and you just want everything to stop.

You start to hear more noise from the other side of the room, and you see Logan’s blurred silhouette on the floor with his back against the wall. His hands clenched in his lap with claws out, breathing rapidly like someone would when they are having a panic attack. You grunt, pushing yourself up on your hands and knees with your jaw clenching tightly as the pain spikes. You crawl towards him with intent, and all you can think is Logan helped you when you were growing weak. He needs someone, and you will help him. Even if it fucking kills you. 

“Logan, please say something,” you grit through your teeth, biting back against the strong pulse in your head.

He is unresponsive, and your own panic rises. You both can’t be down, not now. The fate of the world is happening at this very moment, and you aren’t going to let this new ailment weaken you. You grab his left hand, being careful not to freak him out, and quickly change to have a grip on his wrists. You position yourself so you’re hovering over him, knees on either side of his thighs. His eyes are closed shut, his head shaking. It seemed like he was having a nightmare while still being awake.

“Logan, can you hear me?” You say with fast breaths, your head only getting worse, but still there is no response.

Fuck, I have to do something. 

You decide to think fast. Maybe, just maybe, you can stop his internal clock, keeping him in place until you can figure out how to get him out of this. You are a little afraid to do it in his current state, not knowing if he will react before everything settles in, but you have no choice. Not unless you want him to cave in on himself. You will stay in pain if it means helping him.

“I got you, Logan. I got you,” you whisper with a tremor and put your hands to his temples, letting your power weasel its way through his mind. Your head clears instantaneously, the throbbing ebb dissipating, causing a sigh of relief to wash over you. However, that relief takes a turn into something startling.

You aren’t sure what’s happening. Logan wasn’t freezing like you were anticipating, but something else was occurring. Your power feels different, like it was searching for something. Whatever you were doing, it seemed to be working. His breathing had slowed down, his claws retracted, and his body became lax against the wall. 

The oddest part of all of this though is that you can see everything. It’s like your mind has become a VCR, and a VHS tape of his best memories has been inserted. It’s kind of nice to witness, seeing that even with all he’s gone through, things got better. However, the next thing you see makes your heart stop.

Everything is subdued, but you can tell he is outside on the lawn of Charles’s mansion. It’s bright out, and you see trees. You see young children running around playing, some using their mutations to get the upper hand in their games. And then he shifts, his eyes going to his side to see a figure beside him. His hand reaches out to them and the image clears. 

It’s you. Holy shit, it’s you!

You looked older. Not by much but maybe by a few years. The way you’re presented is more mature, but still has that edge. You honestly liked it, and liked the idea of who you would become.

His hand goes to your face, stroking the skin of your cheek and you watch as both of your hands go to the one lingering. You pressed a kiss to his palm, eyes closing and staying that way until you open them and pull your lips away.

“I didn’t know you had come home.” You said, but it was playful. 

“Got back early this morning. Didn’t want to wake you.”

“You can always wake me up, Logan. I missed you so much.” 

“You have no idea how much I missed you, sweetheart.”

You watch his arms pull you in, but before you watch it happen your mind forces itself away. You feel tears dotting your face. And from the looks of it, Logan had tears on his face too. 

What was all that?

“Is he okay?” You hear Charles coming from behind you, a slight edge to his voice.

“I-I got him,” you stutter, shock still in your system. “You and Hank stop Erik.”

There’s no response except for feet pacing away and out the door. You look around and see everyone is gone, most likely getting out during the chaos. You hear a grunt, and turn to see Logan’s eyebrows scrunched up. His lips are quivering, and he is starting to shake again. When you see more teardrops form, you let go of him.

“Shit, I overdid it,” you say under your breath, even though you have zero clue on what you did.

His eyes shoot open, causing you to almost jump off of him if it weren’t for him pulling you back to him. His hands are on your face, thumbs pressing into your cheeks like he doesn’t know if you are really here or not. He says your name softly, a hint of disbelief in his tone.

“Logan, are you okay?” You say, hands going to his wrists to steady yourself. In that instance he pulls you in, gripping you tightly in his hold and rocking back and forth with you. 

“Oh God, you’re alive. Fuck I thought I lost you.” You hear the pain in his voice, but it confuses you.

“Logan, I’m right here. I’m okay,” you reassure, arms wrapping around his head. You try to comfort him, but he just grips you harder. 

“I’m sorry,” he says but it’s muffled with his face buried in your neck. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.”

There is a dampness from his tears, along with the feel of his lips on your skin. His kisses are bruising, like he is trying to convince himself. You, on the other hand, are experiencing so much. You don’t know Logan, but it is very apparent he knows you. He says you two were close friends, but the more he continues to kiss your neck, the more you think there is something else he isn’t telling you. You can take a pretty good guess to what that is.

You are starting to think you’re going to be in this position forever, until you hear footsteps enter the room. 

“We need to get ou-“ you can hear that it’s Charles. “What’s going on?”

Your mouth opens to say something but shuts when nothing comes out. You don’t know what to say and you don’t want to say anything that may set Logan into another fit of unrest. 

“Charles, go pull the car around discreetly. Make sure you have Hank. We will be down shortly.” 

Once again, Charles leaves with no response. You turn your attention back to Logan, who is still weeping against you. You keep holding him tightly, thinking about how you are going to get him up to leave. As luck would have it, however, it is like something snaps back inside him because next thing you know you are being pushed away.

“What are you doing?” 

You quickly hop off of him, standing up in the process to provide some distance. You observe him, and see the shift back to how he was before he started to spiral. Still, there is something wild in his eyes, and you have yet to determine if that’s a good or a bad sign.

“Oh thank God,” you sigh in relief. “You had me worried for a second.”

He groans, rubbing his head as he gets his bearings. You should wait to ask; you really should. But you need to know what he saw, and more specifically if he saw what you had seen.

“What happened? What did you see?” 

“I saw someone that is going to bring me a lot of pain one day.” Logan looks to the side, and you follow his gaze to where that military man once was. 

“I also saw…” he starts, only to look around and notice you two are the only ones in there. “Where is everyone? Where’s Raven?”

“She’s… she’s gone.”

“What?” His head snaps to you, eyes blown wide.

You look down, a sigh leaving your lips at today’s turn of events. You feel the room shift, a tension building that feels foreign to you. You feel guilty, even though you know you shouldn’t, but you feel like you’ve failed him. He is here to fix things, and now no one has a clue if what happened will make things better or worse. From how he is reacting, it can only be the latter. 

“We need to leave.” Logan mutters, already walking towards the exit. “Let’s go.”

He isn’t looking at you but waits for you to move. You nod, even though there is no recognition to come, and you walk ahead with him trailing behind you.

Yep, definitely the latter.

Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters; Westchester, NY

The trip back felt like it had taken years off your lifespan, the stress that had surrounded the jet almost unbearable. Everyone had feelings of failure and guilt, as it took no telepath to see that, but what made things worse was how much Logan was distancing himself.

You had thought after what happened you would get to know more, but there was none of that, not even a word. It’s like you had burned him with the way he kept his distance. Even on the jet, a space with little room, he stayed far. You had purposely moved closer, and he made an excuse to get up only to sit at the opposite end of the jet. It upset you, and you hate that it did. You shouldn’t feel anything about him, yet after that stupid memory you saw, you do. How could you not?

You didn’t realize it at the time, but feeling how far he is from you makes your body ache in a way that’s unfamiliar. The way your body had felt against his, how solid he was, had you yearning. The way he had held you like you were the most precious thing he possessed had you wanting. If you are interpreting his memory correctly, then why is he holding you from such a distance?

Does he feel like it would be cheating? You know that’s you but that isn’t you now. You are different but how different? Different enough to warrant him to see you as a completely different person?

To be fair, you don’t know his past or even his future, but your heart is starting to want to go where he is. It’s like there is a red string connected between you two that stretches far and wide. You can’t help but think you harbor these feelings because no matter what, you were destined to be with him and he was destined for you. Nothing can cut that string, but it can stretch tightly and that string is losing its thread.

Currently, you are sitting at the top of the stairs, waiting for someone to come out of Charles’s room. Logan and Hank had taken him there, his legs having given out and his mind going off the rails as the effects of his medicine wear off. You chose to distance yourself so as to not overcrowd.

You could hear them talking, sometimes with voices raising and then going soft again. You couldn’t make out what they were discussing, only hearing certain words that have no meaning without context. It isn’t until you hear the door click open that you stand, seeing Hank leaving the room quickly followed by Logan. 

“Is he okay?” You ask, watching Hank come towards you fast.

“He’s going to try and find Raven using Cerebro.” He says walking fast past you down the stairs. “Getting his wheelchair!”

Logan follows him, not glancing at you or saying a word causing you to frown. You are hot on his heels, having more questions desperate for answers.

“Logan, is he going to be alright?” 

“Yep, just fine. Hank and I will be right beside him.” Logan says curtly, walking towards Charles’s old office.

“What about me?” You ask, but it falls on deaf ears as he starts to look for something.

“Logan.” You were starting to get frustrated. What the fuck is his problem?

He finally finds what he’s looking for, and you see him slam a phone book onto the desk. He is flipping through it just a touch too aggressive, pages cringing as he flips the pages. He then stops and puts his finger down on a number before picking up the phone and clocking in the digits.

“Seriously, Logan. Who could you possibly be calling?” You ask him, only to get fucking pissed at his next few words.

“I need a cab for 1407 Graymalkin Lane-”

“What the hell are you doing?!” You storm towards him, getting more irritated by the second.

“Calling you a taxi. You are going home.” Logan growls out, about to continue speaking before you snatch the phone from him and slam it back down. 

“Like hell I am!” You yell. “Just as I told you a couple days ago, I am not going anywhere. You all need me.” 

He slams his hands down against the table, making you jump back. “Listen here, princess. I don’t care how much you think we need you because it doesn’t fucking matter. We need to focus. I need to focus. I cannot do that with you here, so you are going to take a cab back to New York City. Do you understand?”

The daggers in his eyes are sharp, trying to make you give in to his demands. You know better and you can see right through him. “Is this about what happened in Paris?”

He scoffs, turning away from you to walk away. “It was nothing you need to worry about. Just saw someone that is going to make my life hell. I am fine.”

“That isn’t what I am talking about. When I was trying to calm you down, I saw something.” You say, and it stops him in his tracks.

“What do you mean you saw something?” He turns, facing you. “What could you have possibly seen?” 

“I was trying to stop your panic attack by stopping the conception of time in your brain, but I did something else. Something I didn’t know I could do.” You explain, and his face softens from anger to confusion.

“I think I somehow moved your consciousness forward in time,” you continued. “I was able to see where I was moving it. It was how I was able to get you to settle down.”

He is in front of you instantly, hands on your shoulders in a tight grip. “What did you see?”

“I saw myself through your eyes.” You breathed out. “We were out on the lawn behind the mansion.”

“What else did you see?” Logan shakes you a little, causing you to squeak. He is starting to scare you a little bit; the way he is behaving is very irrational.

“That was all I saw, I swear.” You say honestly. 

Logan sighs deeply, tilting his head back with eyes closed. He lets go of you, taking steps back until he’s against the wall. You are growing worried with how he is acting. You wish he would just tell you everything. Tell you what you two really were. Tell you what is running through his head. Tell you what is scaring him so badly. Seeing him so vulnerable has shaken you, but you can’t back down.

“We weren’t just friends,” you whisper. “We were far more, weren’t we?”

Logan’s breath hitches, and his mouth opens to speak but no words come. 

“It explains everything. The way you’ve been acting since we met. I can see the longing in your eyes. I can see it in the way you look after me. What I don’t understand is why you didn’t tell me.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Logan laughs but it isn't playful. It sounds like a laugh that comes to cover the hurt and is full of self-pity.

“It matters to me!” You lament. “I want to know why.”

“Listen,” Logans says, his tone becoming solemn. “Whatever I say or do here affects the future as we know it. Me even being in the same vicinity as you these last few days has made everything extremely difficult for me. If say or do one thing wrong, that’s it. The future I have with you ceases to exist and you cease to exist.”

“What do you mean I cease to exist?” You ask, taken aback by his confession.

Logan’s face pales, quickly turning to go back up the stairs. “Fuck, I’ve said to much.”

Your hand grabs his, yanking him back enough to keep him still. “Logan, what do you mean I cease to exist?”

Both of your emotions are running high, bubbling to the point of overflow; the edge you both were teetering on, about to fall over. You shouldn’t push it, but rationality is no longer home; only frustration.

“Logan, I swear to God if you don’t tell me what the fuck it is you mean I-“

“You die in the future! Is that what you want to hear?” Logan shouts, and everything goes quiet.

You are stunned. “What?”

“You die during the first few Sentinel attacks.” Logan rips his hand away like he’s having an adverse reaction.

“So,” you start, not knowing where you want to go with this question. “So you’re afraid I’m sealing my fate by being here?”

“I’m afraid I once again won’t be able to save you.” Logan says with a pained expression. 

“You don’t need to worry about me. If something happens, I can just shift time back and we can prevent it.”

“God, you are still so stubborn,” he heaves. He is now face level with you on the steps, and he takes your face in his hands. 

“You don’t understand how hard it is for me to stay away. The first time I saw you at the nightclub, all I wanted to do was pull you into me. It is taking everything in me not to hold you like I want to. To kiss you, to love you. But the more I let you in, the more I am close to giving in. I will not divulge my desires at the risk of everyone that is counting on me, especially you.”

You can see his torment, and all you want is to comfort him. You want to kiss him so bad. You want to pull him by his shirt and never let him go. You understand his love for you, but you want him to understand that you would go to end with him, no matter what. 

Your hands go to his wrists, keeping his hands in place. “Have you considered that you coming back here and me being here with you was meant to happen? What if me being here helping you all saves me? What if it extends our lifetime together?”

He doesn’t say anything, but the way he is looking at you makes you weep. His lip quivers, his eyes start to shine, and his jaw is clenching hard enough to break teeth. Your hands slither up his arms to his shoulders. You feel magnetized, your face inching closer to his to see if he will have a change of heart. You are close enough to feel his breath shutter against your lips, and your heart is beating so fast you are sure he can hear it. You feel slight contact, a ghost of a kiss before full impact, but it never comes.

“Logan!” Charles yells from upstairs. “We are getting ready to go.”

Logan is quick to pull away, sending a wave of hurt towards you. He breathes out a stuttered breath before yelling a response and heading upstairs, but before he goes up he turns his head towards you. “There is money on Charles's desk. Please leave while you have the chance.”

He goes upstairs not looking back and you watch as he disappears from your view. You stand there for a while, deep in thought as you weigh your options, but you knew what you were going to do. Even though Logan was afraid, and rightfully so, you had a gut feeling everything would turn itself around.

So, with heavy steps, you walk up the stairs and down the hall, picking the second to last room on the right. It is barren aside from a bed and a dresser, and seeing the bed made you realize how exhausted the day's events have made you. You shut the door, and flop onto the bed, letting sleep take over and dreams manifest.

Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters; Westchester, NY; Four Hours Later

20 Text Messages.

10 Missed Calls.

3 Voice Messages.

Voice Message 1: Hey baby, just calling you to tell you goodnight. Don’t worry about waking me when you get home. I wanna see you as soon as you get in. Get back safely. I love you.

Voice Message 2: Logan, something is wrong. There are a bunch aircrafts above the mansion. Not sure what is happening. Myself and the others are getting the kids together. I’d rather be safe than sorry. Please be cautious when you get home. I love you.

Voice Message 3: Logan. Logan! Whatever you do, please do not come to the mansion! It’s under attack! Those Sentinels are here and- oh God Logan it’s a slaughter. Please do not come! I’ll find you once I’m safe. I love you!

Logan is running like hell to the mansion, and he can see them. They swarm the building like flies, crawling along the brick. There are fires, giant gaping holes in the wall, and bodies… so many bodies.

He gets in, staying close to the wall as he listens. He can hear the Sentinel bodies grind and creak as they move, hunting down any mutant that hasn’t been vanquished. He sniffs deeply, trying to find you in the building. He hopes you made it out already, but that hope is lost when he gets a strong whiff of you and blood.

So much blood.

He enters the foyer, and dead center he sees your body, a hole pierced into your stomach. He sees your mouth open, trying to breath but your chest stammers as it goes down. 

No. No, no, no!

He is at your side, pulling you into his arms. He cradles your head, his hand going to the hand holding your wound. Your eyes are slitted, a dazed look looking right back at him. It’s haunting how dull you are starting to look, and every second adds to his panic.

“Baby, I’m here. I’m here.”

Your free hand, the one not stained in your own blood, clutches onto his shirt. You pulled on it so lightly, strength slowly fading away. 

“I told you not to come,” you whimpered. “It’s not safe here.”

“I wasn’t about to leave you here to deal with this alone. We gotta get you out of here.”

“No, you do.” 

“Don’t say that,” he said sternly. “You are coming with me.”

He lets go to take his belt and shirt off. Balling up the shirt, he moves your hand to put the fabric against your stomach. 

“Fuck!” You screamed.

“I’m so sorry, baby. Bear with me, please.”

He is crying, holding his sobs in as tears break over the dam. He takes his belt and wraps it around your torso, keeping the pressure so more blood doesn’t come out. There is already so much around you. 

“I’m gonna lift you up, okay?” 

He wraps your arms around his neck, getting a grip under your legs and your back before lifting you up. 

“I got you. I got you.”

He starts walking back from where he came, but he wasn’t so lucky this time. He sees them on the ground, making their way up from where he entered. He turns quickly, thinking the only other way out is through the tunnels.

He hits the secret door, and just as it opens he hears one coming their way. He shoves you both through, getting it shut before he starts making his way down. He is making multiple turns, his mind spinning in a haze as he goes to find the exit. He feels your breathing slow, and for the first time in a long time he is scared. You are everything. Without you, he is nothing.

He makes one final turn, the exit at the end, but he halts in his spot. All he sees is carnage. There is blood on the walls, bodies of students, and marks from where their gifts were used. The exit door had been beaten down, the walls cracked and gone along with it. 

“Good God…” He shouldn’t have come down here.

He turns to go back, but from the shadows comes one of them. It blends in with the concrete, and makes itself known once it’s in reach. Its arm shifts into something sharp, and once formed it draws down to where he stands, but just as quickly he dodges with you in his arms.

“We’re not dying today, bub.”

He starts to run like hell towards the exit, only to see another one pop up at the opening. He takes a sharp turn, getting the runaround to make it back to the entrance. It’s a maze of turns, feeling like it’ll take an eternity to get to safety, but with one final turn he has it.

And then he doesn’t.

Rubble had fallen from the flooring above and made its way down creating a massive blockage. It’s a fucking dead end.

The two Sentinels approach, both opening their mouths to burn you two alive. He crouches down with his back facing them, preparing to take anything they give him. He will suffer. Good God, he will suffer. But if he can fake them out enough to leave, you will be safe. That’s all that matters.

But the pain never comes. 

“Logan.”

He looks down to see you holding your arms out, and his eyes widen when he realizes you are using your powers. He turns to see the Sentinels, but they are still moving. Just incredibly slow.

“Logan, you need to leave.”

He turns back to you, and sees your body shaking. The work he had put into keeping the blood from spilling was fatal. You were hemorrhaging. 

“I’m not leaving you here. I won’t do it.”

You let out a pitiful cry, your tears streaming down your cheeks. He can see his too as they mix with yours.

“There is no saving me. Let me save you, please.”

“Baby, I-“

“Do not let me die in vain, Logan. They need you.”

“But I need you!”

“I know, and I’m sorry I can’t give you what you need. It’s selfish, I know.”

“You’re damn right it is.”

“But please, let me be selfish. Let me save you.”

He can start to feel the heat, the Sentinels mouths setting wide enough to set this tunnel ablaze. Everything is telling him to stay, but the way you are looking at him breaks him and it makes him cave.

He can never say no to you.

“Go. Find the others. Make sure they are safe. God, please make sure they are safe.”

“I love you, sweetheart,” Logan chokes, holding you just a little tighter. “I’m so sorry.”

“I am too.”

He kisses you. It’s soft yet full of sorrow. It’s a kiss of death, he knows it. 

“I’ll see you in the next life.”

You smiled at that. It’ll be the last smile he sees from you. “Go quickly. I can’t hold on much longer, Logan.”

He lets go, gently setting you down, before he runs past the Sentinels and makes his way back to the exit. The second he was out of sight, he heard it. The roar of the flames, the mechanical sounds from their armor, and your screams.

All he can hear is your screaming.

Your screams.

You are fucking screaming.

Logan shoots up from the bed, a yell cutting off from his lips as he enters consciousness. He is breathing rapidly, swallowing nonexistent spit as he works to pull himself together. His claws were all the way out, a common side effect of his trauma response. He feels how cool the air is in the room due to the sweat that coated his body. 

He didn’t think he could dream in this current state. He hasn’t had that dream in a while, even though he wishes it was simply that. He used to have it so often, a constant reminder that he failed you and let you suffer just so he could get away. Having to relive the worst day of his life over and over is his own form of hell.

He hears a knock at the door, startling him from his state of being. 

“Logan?” 

He freezes up, knowing that voice from anywhere. He really doesn’t want you in here, not with him like this. Not with him feeling so exposed. 

“I’m fine!” He calls out, hoping you would take the hint, but he knows better.

He watches the door open and you appear. You are still in your beat up clothes, leather jacket and dirty shoes forgotten. Nothing has changed, but you look even more beautiful than you have since he’s gotten here. Maybe it’s because his senses are heightened. Maybe it’s the way the floodlights from outside shine on you in contrast with the dark room. Simply, maybe it is just you.

“I thought I told you to leave.” He says, trying to sound annoyed, but failing miserably.

“Yeah, and I told you I wasn’t going to let grown men tell me what to do.” You responded, shutting the door behind you. 

“Hmph,” he groused, looking down at his hands as his claws sink back into his flesh.

He hears you get closer, feet pattering against the wooden floors. “I could hear you in your sleep. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” But am I really? “Just a nightmare.”

He looks out the window, the night in full effect. The bed dips, and he looks to see you sitting down at the end. He sees it in your face that you don’t believe him, which isn’t surprising. You’ve always been able to read him no matter the circumstances. 

“Did you want to talk about it?”

“No,” he says quickly. He doesn’t want to relive it twice in one night.

“Okay, okay,” you say calmly. “Tell me what I can do for you.”

Please stay, so I know this is real. 

That’s what he wants to say, but he feels like he will choke. His silence is deafening, so much so he sees your face twist in reaction. 

“If you want to be alone, I understand.” You got up from the bed. “Goodnight, Logan.”

There was a time when he didn’t need to be strong or to carry the weight of others. With you as his anchor, he could be exposed. He has had to be strong for so long in recent years, but with you right here in front of him, he feels himself caving. So many emotions are rushing to his head, a battle between the Devil and God raging. He knows it’s wrong to interfere with the past, especially when there are consequences, but after tonight his sanity is slipping. Before he knows it, his hand grabs your arm to keep you from taking another step.

“Stay,” he whispers, a hint of a crack that is only noticed by him. “Please.”

“Okay,” you say with ease. “Where do you want me?”

The angel on his shoulder is telling him to not give in, yet the little, conniving demon on the other side is telling him what he wants to hear. He wants you close; needs you close.

“Will you let me hold you?” 

He thought there may be some hesitation, but there is none. You walk back over to the bed, and he lays back as you climb onto it. His arm is out to invite you in, and you situate yourself to him. Your left arm is cradled into your chest and your right curls so your hand is where his heart is. Your head settles where his right arm and shoulder connect.

“Is this okay?” 

It’s more than okay. “Yes, thank you.”

You both lay there for a while, and he lets his senses completely take over. The first thing he senses is your smell. There is something so sugary sweet about your scent. He equates it closely to something he’d smell in a candy shop with housemade confections. It’s intoxicating, and makes him hungry. 

You fit into his arms just right. The skin from your cheek laying on his exposed shoulder brings a comfort he hasn’t had in so long. It made him realize how touch-starved he’s been. He hasn’t touched another woman since your passing, and the thought of doing so makes his stomach turn. He only wants to feel you against him, in every sense of the word. 

The most shocking thing for him is to hear how calm you sound. Your breathing is deep and slow. Your heartbeat is sounding its soothing rhythm under your ribcage. It’s the opposite of how his heart was reacting; hard and fast pumps of blood rushing. He feels your hand rubbing circles over his heart, and he wonders if you can tell how much you are affecting him. 

“Tell me something about me from the future.”

Logan looks down at you, and you look so peaceful as you lay with him. Does he do this to you?

“What do you want to know?” 

“Anything. Something good.”

There are so many good things about you. It’s hard to divulge into just one thing, but even then he knows where to start.

“You teach music at the school.”

You perked your head up at this. “I teach?”

“Mhmm,” he hums, smiling to himself. “You do a lot of the extracurricular activities for the younger ones, but music is one you do a lot of. You’re really good with kids.”

You move your body, hands on top of one another on his chest. Your head lays on them, looking at him with a smile that makes his heart beat faster. 

“Sounds like I’ve become a lot more patient in the future.”

“Trust me,” Logan chuckles. “You are still quite stubborn, but you are different with them.”

Logan loved seeing you with the kids. He remembers how nervous you were to teach the younger students, but he knew you would do well. Seeing how you interacted with them during class, how you encouraged them and gave them the will to work hard. So many of the kids came from families who despised who they were. You became a mother-figure to a lot of them.

He thinks about the time he woke up to kids laughing and looked out the window to see you running around with them. You were carrying on with them, laughing with them, looking at them with care and love. It was the moment he realized he would love to start a family with you. Watch you grow with his child, see you love them like you love the kids at school. It makes his heart twist.

“Did they like me?”

“Oh, sweetheart. They loved you.” Loved. God, you were so loved by them.

“Can I ask something?” You ask.

“Anything.” He can feel himself getting lost in you, his hand subconsciously caressing your hair. 

“What I did in Paris,” you start. “You seemed genuinely confused when I explained what I did earlier. Was that something I couldn’t do in the future?”

When you told him you brought his memories to the forefront of his mind, shifting time in his brain, he was shocked. Your mutation is special, and the control you had over it is simply astounding. He isn’t surprised that your powers can do more than what was discovered originally, but it now begged the question: what triggered it and why now?

“No,” Logan says with the shake of his head. “What do you think caused it?”

“Logan, I think you did.” He hears you hesitate.

“What do you mean?”

He watches as you sit up, crossing your legs. Your hands grab his right hand, thumbs pushing into his skin right where his mutated bones come out. It is strange how different you are acting in comparison to the last few days. You are acting like the you he gets to know later, the edge in your attitude completely gone. Maybe this is who you are or maybe… you are only this way with him.

“So, the day we met, earlier that day, I saw you come out of the Algonquin.”

He sits up at this, heart picking up more. “You were there?”

“I pulled over because I started to get a terrible migraine. It was so bad I thought I was having a stroke or something, but then it stopped like it was never there. Next thing I know, I see you and I can't look away. I felt like I knew you and I didn’t know why.”

“Has it happened more than once? The migraines?” Logan is pulled into your direction, back hunching slightly to get closer even when he doesn’t realize it.

“It happened again at Max’s when you introduced yourself.”

His eyes widen, the pieces coming together. “That’s why you looked like you were in pain.” 

“I chalked it up to having drank too much,” you huffed out a laugh. “It didn’t make sense at the time, but after Paris I can’t shake the feeling.”

“So what are you saying? That I opened your mind?” 

“If I didn’t have access to this part of my mutation from the future you are from, what if that means this was all meant to happen?” You brought his hand to your chest where your heart lies and he can feel directly where your heart beats.

Where it beats for him.

“I wasn’t even the one meant to come here,” Logan says in denial. “It was supposed to be Charles.”

“But what if it wasn’t?” You grip his hand harder, pushing it further against you. “What if you were meant to find me to make things right? To save everyone. To save us. Maybe this is fate trying to tell you something.”

He is becoming weak. Your words are so honest and it is taking nothing to believe you. Maybe you are right, maybe you are wrong. You haven’t seen the bloodbath the future becomes, but maybe you don’t need to have seen to know. Your words, your reasoning; both make his resolve crack and there isn’t much left. Having you here in front of him, being so reassuring and confident, he isn’t going to last. 

“What are you thinking right now, Logan?” You ask gently, and if he is seeing things correctly, he sees how much you want him to give in. And that’s all he needs.

“I’m thinking about how much I want to kiss you right now.”

His hand on your chest is pulled lower, down to your left breast where you curl your fingers over his to squeeze the flesh. “Then do it.”

To say the dam has broken would be an understatement. The dam has vaporized, mass flooding reaching the heavens. Those three words were enough for him to snatch you into his arms, pull you on top of him, and get his lips onto yours. He has your thighs on either side of his own, holding you so close that your crotch is pressed tightly against his. Your hands are holding onto his shoulders with nails digging into his skin, and fuck he loves it.

His hands are all over you; going from your hips to your ass to the small of your back to your head. He wants to touch every part of you and memorize every inch of your skin. His fingers bundle up the bottom of your top, pushing it up with his fingertips to let his palms glide along your waist. You gasped against his lips, giving him the opportunity to let his tongue fondle yours. 

He unclasps your bra as his hands reach the middle of your back, giving him the chance to take both items of clothing off your body. He pulls away from you, back leaning against the headboard as he takes you in. Your body is just as he remembered it, and he could weep at how stunning you are.

“Do I look okay?” There is a hint of uncertainty in your voice, and it sends his hands to gently bring your face down to him.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on.” His eyes bore into yours as he tells you, needing you to know how much he means it. 

Before he can say anything else, your lips are back on his. He lets you take the lead, your tongue leading him in a dance. It gives him the opportunity to focus his hands on your breasts. You whimper against his mouth and he feels you push your chest into his palms as he massages them, which causes a little smirk to form at the corner of his mouth. You had always loved when he played with them as it turned you on like nothing else. 

“Good to know your tits have always been so sensitive,” he murmurs against your lips, thumb and pointer fingers going to pinch the puckered buds.

A high-pitched moan is pulled from you, your hips involuntary grinding against him in response. Your lips let go of his, and they end up going to his cheek. “I guess you know how to get me going, don’t you?”

“Oh baby, I know your body like the back of my hand,” he hums with a rumble. He can play your body like an instrument, the song being your sweet noises. He is going to show you just how well he makes you sing.

He is quick to flip you over, removing his white wife pleaser in the process before his hands go to your jeans. He yanks them down with your panties and you help kick them off before he tosses them aside. He goes to take his own off, stripping everything away until he is as naked as you are. 

He crawls up to you, moving your thighs over his hips. His hands reach under your back and he pulls you into his lap. Your legs wrapped around him, and he groans as your wet cunt sits against his cock. His left arm stays wrapped around you, and his right hand holds the back of your head with fingers at the roots of your hair. Your hips start grinding up onto his erection, mewls so sweet that he can’t help but consume them.

He pulls your head to the side by your hair gently, tugging just enough to get a reaction from you. Your eyes flutter, and he hums as he lets his lips ghost over your ear. 

“I have every little spot of yours memorized,” he kisses behind your ear, his tongue peeking out for a little lick before kissing in the same spot. “Even if you think you know what they are, just know I know all of them.”

“Fuck, Logan,” you say with a shiver, making your body press further into the heat he is projecting. 

“Mmm that’s right.” His lips go down to the underside of your jaw where your pulse is, kissing it gingerly to prepare you for his next act. “Keep that up.”

He bites down slowly on the crevice, letting his teeth sink in far enough to leave his mark. Your hands are on his head, cooing softly at the distinct pressure. He releases, licking the indents he left in your skin to soothe the ache. 

“You sound so pretty, baby,” he murmurs. “Let me see if you know this one.”

His mouth trails down, sucking marks into your skin until he gets down to your sternum. His back hunches down, leaning you back to get the angle just right. He sets his tongue to work, letting the tip trail a stripe up until he reaches the notch between your collarbones. A little gasp followed by a hushed curse falls from your lips. The sensation causes you to squirm in his lap and it makes his dick twitch against your folds. Logan isn’t a patient man in most regards, but he could spend an eternity exploring your body. Your reactions fuel him and they send blood right down to his cock. 

“Didn’t know about that spot, did you?” 

“No, ah!” Logan pulls another gasp from you as he nibbles around the edges. “Getting me addicted to you early, aren’t you?”

“That’s right, angel.” Logan can’t help himself, thrusting his hips up a little to let his length rub into your pussy; so wet and so good. “I’ll have you yearning for me for decades to come.”

As he proceeds the motion of his hips, tightening his hold on you, he allows his right hand to come up to your left breast. With his tongue and cock being a distraction, he pulls at your taut nipple at the same time his teeth bite down on your collarbone. You cry out his name, his hair being fisted and pulled. He can’t help the wanton moan that spills out, riling him up to no end. 

Your breast feels so at home in his hand, but looking at how pretty your nipples look, flushed from his treatment, he gets a craving. His tongue makes a path down, making its way to the left and up until it slithers to your erected bud. His mouth latches, encircling the peak as he sucks earnestly. He continues rutting into you, feeling his and your fluids coating his appendage. 

Logan feels himself becoming drunk. With you in his arms reciprocating his intentions, it’s like he is weightless. Something deep in his scarred heart is healing. Years of trauma from seeing and experiencing the unthinkable transform into the better things in life. He thinks of the future he could have with you. A future where you take his last name. A future where you two live in a little home decorated however you choose. A future with your belly big with his kid, where he can kiss your stomach every morning and every night. A future where you and him raise a child. He wants that. He wants that so bad. 

In his drunken haze, he feels one of your hands leave his head. Your fingertips send his nerves alight as they trail down his arm. You are tracing the veins that are bulging out, and he grunts as they go over to his chest. He has switched to your other breast, and as he starts, he feels your palm against his cock. You are pushing it more into your cunt, thumb running over his fat tip as you rub it. 

“Fuck,” he curses with a pop. “You are such a greedy girl.”

“What can I say?” You jest. “I know what I want.”

“And what would that be, sugar?” He thrusts against you, cockhead rubbing up and down your clit. 

You smiled at him, and your other hand goes from his head to his jaw. Fingers slightly scratching his beard with your thumb on his bottom lip, you lean back into him with knees shifting. They are on either side of him now and his tip is being lined up against your hole. Your eyes seek out his, and he can’t look away as he admires you. You are beautiful, an angel sent down for him. Every version of you is perfect, and for every version of you he will sacrifice everything.

“I want you to make love to me,” you say with a shuttered breath. “Show me how you love me. Show me what I have to look forward to.”

Logan’s tip is enveloped by your heat by the time you finish, and your words were the full confirmation he needed to seat you fully onto his shaft. 

It’s like gasping for air with how intense his reunion with you feels. You fit perfectly around him. It’s almost too good to be true. Part of him is wondering if he is still dreaming, but with how warm and snug you are, it has to be real. This has to be happening.

You lift your hips until all that’s connected is the head before dropping back down. His cock glides right in and he grunts as you work yourself on him. He guides your movements with his hands, both on your plush ass and giving a squeeze with every bounce. Your arms have since wrapped around his neck, head hiding in his neck. Your hot breath fans across his skin, your teeth nipping at him every time he fills you up. 

He loves how you are taking what you need, letting you keep the pace to get used to his size. Normally during an intimacy session, he would prepare you more thoroughly. He’d pleasure you with his mouth, letting his spit coated tongue lubricate your pretty pussy. He’d finger you open, getting you nice and relaxed for his heavy cock. He would add another when your little noises got rowdier, a tell-tale sign that you needed more. He did everything to ensure you were ready for him, the enjoyment of your pleasure and taste a perk in the endeavor. With how you are riding him, however, it feels like you are preparing him. Taking it slow, letting him savor you, letting him know that this is real and you are his. 

“You feel incredible, Lo,” you whimper into his neck. He just about mimics you after hearing you call him by that little nickname.

“I can say the same to you, pretty girl.” He lifts your head by your hair, putting your forehead to his as he rocks up into you. “Taking my cock so well. You were made for me. Ain’t that right?”

“Mhmm,” you hum. “I’ll always be yours. In every lifetime, I am yours and you are mine.”

He chokes out a laugh, completely overwhelmed with emotion. He kisses your swollen lips with ease, his tongue flicking out to savor your taste. Every moan that comes out is captured by his mouth, swallowing the sweet sounds desperately. He notices your hips start to slow, and your whining gets more consistent. He knew you were tiring, but that was okay. He has enough energy and greed to take over. You make him greedy, and he needs more.

“Did you want me to take over, baby?”

“Please,” you mumble against his lips. “Take me.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He shifts himself, keeping you two connected as he gets you onto your back. He situates you so your legs are wrapped around his torso, legs pushed down so your thighs are almost to your chest. The angle he has you in gives him the chance to push in just a little more, his tip putting pressure onto your cervix. 

“Oh God, you are so deep,” you mewl, clenching down on his cock causing him to groan at the grip.

“That’s right, baby. Damn you look so beautiful like this.” 

“Yeah? I look beautiful with your big cock in my pretty pussy?”

“Fuck, you got a mouth on you.” Logan thrusts shallowly in response, a whine ripping out from your throat. “But to answer your question, you look beautiful no matter what.”

He starts thrusting long, deep strokes into you. He lets one hand stick to your hip, and the other has a gentle grip on your jaw to keep your head in place. His thumb traces your bottom lip, and in an instant your tongue latches to it. It draws it in, getting it so your lips close around it and suck on it as your tongue lathers it. Your eyes shut, and you hum happily like you are savoring the musk from his skin. It enraptured him, making him pick up the pace, hips starting to slam against you. 

He’s on the cusp of his release. He doesn’t want this end, not by a long shot. But tonight will become tomorrow. A new day will start where the stresses of his mission will come to light. All he can do is savor this last little bit of happiness and hope sometime soon he will wake up with you by his side.

“Lo, I’m close,” you grunt out.

He takes his soaked thumb, bringing it down to your bundle of nerves. “I’ll get you there, baby. Cum whenever you are ready.”

He swirls your clit at an easy pace, a contrast to how he is slamming into you. He is battering into your pussy, hitting that spot he knows all too well. Your moans grow louder, more accustomed to his hard hitting movements. The sounds of wet slapping with moaning and grunting fill the room, and with the slightest bit of added pressure to your clit he gets you there; right where he wants you.

Your back is arching off the bed, nails finding purchase on his thighs. Your moans are breathless, the wind knocked out as he continues the fast pace of his hips. He looks down where the two of you are connected, watching the white fluid flow down between your ass and drip onto the bed. He can smell it and something snaps in his brain where he wants more. 

He can tell you are coming down from your high, but he isn’t having any of that. His length stills, fully seated in you, and starts rutting the tip against your g-spot. 

“Fuck, it’s too much,” you cry out. “Logan, please!”

“I got you, pretty girl. Just need you to cum on my cock one more time.” 

You nod, and he pushes his hips harder, and it isn’t long before you are wailing with another release. This sets him off again, and he pulls almost fully out before pistoning his cock in and out rapidly as he prolongs your orgasm. You are wailing his name, and he can see tears falling down the sides of your eyes from how good he was making you feel. He is on top of a hill about to roll down, and before he releases, he pulls out. 

Your legs try to shut, but his thighs prevent it. He takes two fingers and sticks them into your cunt to continue riding your release out. His other hand fists his cock over your stomach, and with a growl he is cumming in ropes. White paints your tummy until it’s pooling down into your belly button, drenching the skin and making it sheer. He is breathing heavy, orgasmic bliss fading into something more peaceful. He sees you are on the same boat, chest going up and down. It isn’t until he hears a sob crash out from your lips and more tears forming that he snaps out of his daze.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” He is urgent as he gets off the bed, getting closer to you from the side of the bed. His hands are immediately on your face, thumbs wiping away the new droplets trailing down. 

“I’m sorry,” you choke, staggered breaths coming from you with a mixture of sobs in between. “I’m okay. It was just a lot.”

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I got carried away.” He goes to kiss the apples of your cheeks where the tears have stained, before standing up fully. “Let me get you cleaned, okay?”

He turns to go get a towel from the bathroom when he feels your hand wrap around his wrist, stopping him completely. 

“It was a lot, but in a good way.”

He goes to kneel on the ground beside the bed, hands going to yours to kiss your knuckles. “Are you sure you are okay? I wouldn’t dream of hurting you,” he murmurs into your skin. 

“Logan, I have never experienced pleasure like that before,” you say hiccuping, causing a laugh to bubble out after. “I never thought I could experience something like that with someone ever.”

It dawns on him that this is technically your first time with him, meaning once the future sets to the right course, this moment will become the first time he made love to you. His mind goes back to the very first time, both coming back from a night out with a need so deep that it was said and done too quickly. This time, he got to cherish you. He got to make your first time with him feel special and adored. It is surreal, and it is everything. 

“Why are you crying?” He hears you whisper, a hand escaping his grip to wipe away his own tears.

He didn’t even realize it, but he didn’t care. He didn’t hide it. He lets you wipe them away, mirroring how he tended to yours. “I’m happy. Happier than I have been in a long time.”

He brings his head down to kiss your lips, a light peck that leads to a few more on your face. A giggle leaves your lips, and he swears his face grew more wet. 

He looks to see the cum starting to dry on your skin, and he places one more kiss before standing up. “Let me get you cleaned up, and we can rest for a while.”

He rushes to the bathroom, steps heavy, and emerges with a warm, wet towel. He sits on the edge of the bed, taking the fabric to your heat to clean the fluids lingering. He is gentle, not wanting to rub the towel anywhere that’s still sensitive to the touch. He kisses your knees and the inside of your thighs, the fabric now on your tummy as he wipes you clean. Your skin is cleared of any fluids, and with one last kiss to your flesh he pulls away. 

He tosses the towel into the sink before going to the other side of the bed, pulling the sheet and comforter back to get under. He reaches over to you, pulling you into him as he adjusts the blanket from under you. He settles with you on his chest, just like you were earlier, with the bedding now over your forms. You snuggle up to him, your fingers twirling around the hair on his chest. His fingers brush through your hair, admiring the afterglow you are giving, and thinking about how lucky he is right now.

You are his baby. His life. His soul. He was miserable without you, but he didn’t realize how bad off he was until now. Having you back in his arms, even for a moment, made his soul come to life. It had been rendered useless when it was severed, and now his sense of purpose is strong. The love he is feeling in this room wraps around him snuggly, and he doesn’t want to leave its embrace. 

Your left hand pokes out from in between your bodies, and his free hand goes to twiddle with the fingers. He thinks about how big his hands are compared to yours. His whole fist could cover the entirety of your hand, yet your hands are on the rougher side like his. There are some calluses from what he assumes is drumming. They form along the top of your palm where your fingers connect. He stops where your ring finger lies, and he subconsciously sighs.

He remembers how Storm had helped him find a ring for you. You had said how you would love anything he chose because it was from him. However, he wanted it to be a ring that made a statement for his love. He wanted a ring where every time you looked at it, you would know how much he adored you. 

He thinks about how back in the future, it is still around his neck like a virtue. It makes him wonder if in the near distant future, when things become sane and good, if he will still have that ring. Will he, who may become a different man after he returns, have the guts to propose to you? He regrets so much, but that is something he regrets greatly. Not proposing before the world fell apart. Not proposing to let you know that he is ready to take the next step, and to let you know he is committed to you even past the point of death. Death do us part doesn’t apply to you or him. 

“What’s on your mind?”

He looks down to see you looking up at him, a smile forming on his lips as he takes you in. “Just thinking about how I could go for a cigar right now.”

You smacked his chest, making him grunt out a chuckle. “I’m guessing that’s a common occurrence after these kinds of things.”

“That or we go for round two,” he smirks, laughing as you smack his chest again.

“Horndog,” you mumble into his side. 

“A horndog for you, baby.” He goes to kiss you again but then he hears rapid knocking on their door.

“Are you two decent?” Hank asks loudly from behind the door. “This is urgent!”

“Just come in, Hank.” Logan pulls the covers further up on you, a slight possessiveness taking over as Hank comes in. Your body is for his eyes only. 

He thought Hank may feel a little embarrassed seeing the two of you like this, but there is none of that. Hank marched over; any social cues forgotten as he sat on the edge of the bed. 

“Listen, bub, what could possibly be so urgent that you are sitting on the bed I just fucked my girl silly on?”

“Logan!” You scowl.

Hank rolls his eyes. “Raven is going to Washington. Trask is going to be at the White House tomorrow, and she plans to strike. We need to leave tonight.”

“What is happening at the White House?” Logan asked, sitting up on his elbows.

Hank shakes his head in a way that tells Logan it isn’t for anything good. “They are presenting the Sentinel Program tomorrow.”

“Oh God,” you mutter. “Trask is already that far along? Does that mean they could be unleashed sooner?”

Logan shutters at the thought. The idea of the Sentinels starting their massacre whole decades earlier makes him uneasy. It scares him. He wonders if this means things are now going to be worse than they already were, which is hard to imagine. He doesn’t want to imagine it. 

He wishes he had more time. He doesn’t know when he will get to be like this with you again. It could feel like a matter of seconds, minutes, hours, days. He could wake up to a world where you and him don’t coincide. But at the end of the day, he needs to pull through for you and everyone else. His main priority is that he wakes up to a world where everyone is alive.

This is his last chance.

“Alright, we’ll get up and get stuff together.” Logan says, and with that Hank gets up with a nod.

As he makes his exit, Logan starts to get up, but not before he feels your arms wrapping around his torso trying to pull him back.

“Sweetheart, we need to get up,” Logan says softly, not wanting to disturb the peace in this room. Not wanting to unveil their reality.

“Just a few more minutes,” you wager. “I’ll freeze time if that means I can stay like this for a few more minutes.”

He can’t deny you. God, he can’t. He lays back down to his original state, and before he can help himself the words are out in the open.

“I love you.”

You didn’t respond, and that’s okay. He already knows you love him too.

The White House; Washington D.C.

“Yes, I am with the marine band.”

“You are late, Sergeant. Get into position with the others.”

“Yes sir!”

You move past the metal detectors, jogging towards the rest of the marine band members. There was an empty spot where the snare lies and you get into position, harness going over your shoulders. You fall into play, Stars and Stripes Forever sounding throughout the set up.

It’s perfect really. You are in the best position to see everything. You will be able to see Trask, the President, and other high ranking officials. If things fall into complete disarray, you will shift the time backward and have a complete do over. In the meantime, the guys will look for Raven before she can strike.

It was a string of luck thanks to Charles’s willingness to use his powers again. Hank had told you he had a change of heart, and while you had no proof of what convinced him, you had a feeling it had to do with the man who completely bared his soul to you last night.

Just the thought makes you blush. You aren’t one to let someone you barely know in your bed, giving yourself to them completely. You’ve been there, done that, and it never stuck or felt right. With Logan, it felt different. There is a bond between you both that’s inexplicably there. You have felt it from the start, and it was only confirmed after last night. The way he took care of you, made love to you; you could feel the love he felt for you and while scary to admit, you love him too.

He looks at you like you are the center of his universe. He looks at you like living isn’t worth shit unless you are by his side. It pains you but only because whatever happened in his future has scarred him deep. You could feel it in the way he kissed you, and left marks on your body. He was trying to convince himself that he wasn’t dreaming; that you were there. 

You don’t know what will happen after today, but what you do know is you will find him. You will find him, learn every detail about him until he is like a second skin, and love him like he deserves. You will make sure of it.

You look towards the metal detectors and see them passing through. You see Logan look in your direction, a smile shining towards you that you mirror right back. He looks you up and down, sending a wink your way before turning back to Charles and once again your face feels hot. His effect on you is absolutely outstanding. 

You can see Charles scanning the crowd, undoubtedly looking for Raven amongst the thousands of people. You keep your eyes on him, reading his expressions as he continues lurking. You aren’t sure what time it is but it’s only a matter of time before President Nixon makes his speech. Even then, that doesn’t mean Raven won’t strike before that.

“I haven’t found Raven yet. Be prepared.”

You felt Charles rattling in your brain. You look in his direction to see everyone looking towards you and you nod to signal the message was clear.

The conductor cuts off the song, signaling the event is about to start. You focus your attention to the stage, looking for any kind of sign of Raven. Everything seems pristine, Secret Service covered at every point. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” You hear someone speak through the microphone on the podium. Your attention goes to the man, someone from Nixon’s advisory team surely, standing before everyone. “It is my utmost pleasure to welcome Mr. President Nixon!”

You see the conductor wave his baton, signaling to start playing, and quickly you are rolling your sticks once the first beat drops. You watch, trying to look in your peripherals for anything weird, before you hear a gunshot.

Your eyes snap to the stage, and you see Trask lying there with a bullet to his head. People are losing their minds, standing erratically to get away from whoever the shooter was. You drop your drumsticks, quickly snapping your fingers to stop the commotion. Everything freezes, and you take the opportunity to walk away from your post. You make observations, needing to be quick, and it doesn’t take long for you to see Raven. Or at least make the assumption that it’s her.

You see she transformed into a man from the Secret Service. The gun has since been lowered and you can see two other Secret Service officials running to tackle. You walk to look at the man’s face, and it makes your lips purse slightly.

She is smiling. There is genuine joy in what she just did. Before time froze over, it was obvious she saw the other men coming to take her down, but she didn’t care. You see it in her face: she won. It didn’t matter what happened afterwards. She saved her kind, your kind. 

Except she didn’t, and that’s what kills you as you look at her. Her actions kill so many, and leave so many people without their loved ones. Your future livelihood is dismantled by the Sentinels, so deep down you understand Raven’s hatred for Trask. You hate him too, but you believe all will come to the light. Trask will get his due diligence, and hopefully it’s something worse than death.

Humiliation. Defunding his work. Life behind bars. For a man like him, death would be too easy.

You pass her, heading towards the rest of the group. You get to Logan’s side, and release a breath you didn’t know you needed to release. You lift your arms up and move them down slowly. As they descend, time rolls back like it’s a moveable force. People that swarmed like ants are back in their seats, high security are back at their stations, the President makes his way back behind the stage, and Trask is back on his feet. Your hands clenched tight, holding everything in place before releasing and things continue on completely reset.

You lean down to Charles, making sure he hears you clearly. “She’s right there to the left of the stage. Act fast.”

Charles looks in that direction, focusing with an urgency as he sets his sights on Raven. You watch the scene unfold again, and see how Raven goes to pull the gun from her jacket but she halts. You see her grow stiff, and her lips move like she is talking to someone. 

“I’ve got her,” Charles says with relief. “I can only hold her for so long.”

“You two go get her,” Hank says as he gets behind Charles. “He is right. Charles is still not as strong as he was before. You both need to be quick.”

You nod and the two of you start trekking over to where Raven is. The President is talking, but it’s muddled as you focus. The two of you walk slowly, but with urgency, not wanting to cause any alarm that would halt any progress. That didn’t matter, however, because right as you two are on her, a Secret Service agent is in front of you both.

“I’m sorry, but this is as far as you two can go.” He has his hands raised in front of him to prevent any further steps. 

“Behold! The world will never be the same again…” The National Anthem kicks in, and you turn to see the American flag drop. What you see makes your jaw drop. 

Eight large robots. They couldn’t be more than twenty feet tall. Hell, it looks like they could stomp the average person out. The sheer size of them makes you uneasy, knowing what they can and will do makes your stomach churn. 

“Is that what they look like?” You say quietly, your back now pressed against Logan’s front.

“This is just the start.” Logan's right hand grabs yours, squeezing tightly. “But we can change that.”

You squeeze back just as tight, hoping it conveys that you are with him. “Let me stop the time so you can get her.” You go to snap your fingers, but Logan squeezes your hand again as if to hold off. 

“What?”

“Do you hear that?” He yells over the cheers. “Something’s coming.”

Logan keeps looking around, and in his search is when you see something moving from the corner of your eye. You turn, and a lump starts forming in your throat.

“Good God…”

It is clockwork with how things evolved. The Sentinels, with their yellow eyes and shiny polymer, are no longer on their feet. They are in the air, carefully looking down on the crowd like they are Gods. They look so much bigger off the ground, and it unsettles you to no end. 

You see Trask and the Major talking, a look of frustration on the scientist's face. It confuses you because he is the one that has control over the giants. However, your question is answered when the sun seems to go away and only shadows linger in the shape of a ring. Rubble and debris fall from the sky, and once you look up you couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

A whole fucking stadium. Rows and rows of seats and cement foundation floating in the sky. It moves over the White House like a storm, slowly but surely coming with impending coverage. It is only as the inner circle enters your vision that you see Erik, carrying the weight of it like it was nothing.

The Sentinels rise higher, going up towards the floating anomaly as it surrounds it. You think for a second that maybe they were activated because they detected the threat. However, as you watch them reach the top, taking places like they are guarding a post with arms drawn, you know it wasn’t anyone commanding them from the ground, but from the sky. 

“Holy shit Erik…” you whisper to yourself, some disbelief edged into your voice. Erik was a powerful mutant, that you knew, but this? This was next level.

“I’m getting Raven!”

Before you can say anything, Logan is running to tackle Raven down, but it doesn't matter. The minute he is on his feet, bullets are raining from the sky in droves. 

“Logan, get back!” You yell, running to pull him back before the mass array of bullets hit him.

“I’ll be fine! I can take them!” Logan yells over the madness of crowds flocking away. “We need to get her!”

“Look around!” You grab his shoulders, shaking them. “It doesn’t matter if we get her now. We need to get Erik and we can’t if we are both down!”

You don’t wait for him to answer, dragging him to rubble that had made its way to the ground. You look around it, trying to get eyes on Charles and Hank before the ground shakes. Logan has his arms around you, covering your body with his to protect it from any kind of blow. 

It’s quiet for a moment as the dust settles. You peep out again, trying to locate the other two again. The field was a ghost town, the crowd able to escape before the stadium trapped them in. The President, Trask, and others were gone, assuming they went into some sort of hiding place that only they know about. It is only then that you realize Raven is no longer to be seen, which makes you think she went into hiding… with them.

“Oh no…” 

“What?” Logan whispers, his eyes trained elsewhere.

“I think Raven is with Trask.”

“Unfortunately, I think we have a bigger fucking problem now.” Logan curses with eyes unmoving.

You look to see where he is staring, and you see Erik walking towards the White House before stopping. His hands go out in front of him, moving them like he is scanning for something.

You feel something in your mind move, and you gasp when you hear the voice in your head. “Charles?”

“My dear, we are running out of time.” You hear Charles echo in your head. “If you or Logan can get Erik’s helmet off of him, I can stop him.”

“Okay, on it.” You turn in Logan’s hold, back now against the rubble. “We need to get the helmet off him. I will stop time while you grab it.”

“Sounds easy enough,” Logan grunts, crouching in front of you. 

“Alright, here we go.” You focus all your energy on your surroundings before snapping your fingers. Your fists are secured, and you look at Logan before nodding his way. “Go on.”

He goes to get up but stops for a second before coming back down. His lips are on yours, a long peck before releasing you. You’re stunned, not expecting such a romantic gesture. “I’ll be back for you, baby.”

He’s off, running towards Erik. You watch as he makes it up to him, carefully removing the helmet and putting it under his arm. He is on his way back, holding the helmet close as he gets back to where you stood. You both crouch back down, and you unclench your fists letting time continue its course. 

“Charles, he’s all yours,” you say with the hope he can hear you.

It’s quiet for only a moment when you hear something heavy fall to the ground. You hear a yell, one that sounded exactly like Charles, and you shoot up. You see some particles in the air to your right, steel and concrete a heap on the ground. You see brown hair, and then you see Hank, fully in his true blue form, trying to lift the heavy weight off of Charles. Panic sets in, not really sure how bad the damage is but it stirs you to stand up and release the alarming catharsis that bubbles to the surface.

“Charles!” You scream, your fight or flight response taking the former as you run towards them. You sense Logan right behind you, following your trail as you approach the mess. You almost make it, ready to stop time again but then you feel something graze your arm and then a stretch of pain that takes you out.

You fall with a grunt, holding your left arm as you curse to yourself. Blood is making its way down your arm, and you work to put pressure on it but it continues to seep through the cracks of your fingers. Shit, shit, shit!

You hear more bullets go off towards you, and your heart is in your throat as you expect to be battered, but they don’t come. They don’t come because Logan is in front of you, body jerking as he works to pick you up as wounds form from his back. 

“Holy shit, Logan!” 

“Hold on!” He seethes in pain, holding you close as he gets you both behind another pile of rubble. 

You both have your backs to the scene unfolding, but you know there isn’t much time to stay here. With haste, you unbuckle your belt, flinging it out of the jean loops and wrapping it below the bullet wound. Your teeth sink into the leather, pulling it tightly before securing it. 

You look over at Logan, who is surrounded by the pellets he pushed out from his back. He grunts as one more falls to the ground behind him, and he turns to you with an alertness you’ve become all too familiar with.

“Are you okay?” You ask stupidly, because of course he is.

He doesn’t answer at first, looking at you and then looking back at the destroyed lawn. It causes you to look too, and you can see Hank clobbering one of the Sentinels as he yanks out its wiring. But he’s outnumbered and it’s only a matter of time before they gang up on him. 

“We need to help Hank,” you say, getting ready to stand up before Logan’s hand grabs you by your jean loops.

Logan’s hands are on your face, holding it still as to keep your focus on him. There is conflict in the way he looks at you; a conflict that says you won’t agree with what he’s about to do next. You can read him so easily, and what you are reading makes you uneasy.

“No, Logan…” 

“Sweetheart, I need you to stay right here.” His eyes are saying so much more in relation, telling you why he’s asking you this. You know he has lost too much, and to lose it all before it’s even started isn’t in the cards for him. Still, you can’t help the stubbornness that begs to fight with him.

“I’m not leaving you defenseless out there.” 

“Then defend us from here,” Logan says firmly, mind unchanging. “I will not lose you here. I am not going back to a future where you don’t exist.”

It’s quiet for a second, words processing in your head. You knew he loved you, but to see it run so deep at his declaration made you want to cry. How is it a man that you haven’t known for long, can have such an effect on you? How is it that a part of him already runs so deeply inside you? It leaves you with the conclusion that if you are feeling all of this after a few days, then what he must be feeling is tenfold after a lifetime. 

Your hands go to his face, mirroring him as you two stare at each other. He’s waiting for you to accept what he is asking, eyes moving back and forth slightly like he is trying to read your response. You sigh deeply, swallowing the pill he wants you to take before you pull him down to your lips to seal your acceptance. 

He grunts in surprise, but shortly after melts against you. It’s a kiss molded into words, one that says “thank you” and in kind says “I’ll see you after this is all over”. It’s a kiss that says even when there truly is no time left, there is always time for this, for you, for him.

You pull away, eyes watering as you look at the man who will ultimately become your world and your savior in ways you can’t begin to fathom. You give him one more good look, one more stroke of your thumbs against his facial hair, before dropping your hands to surrender. 

“You come back to me safe,” you assert. “I will do as much as I can from here.”

Logan responds by kissing your lips again, placing three quick kisses in succession before standing up to run off towards the mess. You peek over from your hiding spot, and you see two of the Sentinels on the ground in its robotic guts. You hear Hank roaring to your left, seeing him fly to the ground onto his back. The Sentinel he was fighting approaches, armed and ready to fire. 

You clench your teeth as you put your arms out, the wounded one shooting signals to your brain that it aches terribly. However, you push through, focusing on the Sentinels mechanics and the timely energy around it. You watch it slowly come to a stop, and you see Hank look your way before you nod your head to tell him to get the job done.

You watch him spring into action, hands digging into the skull before ripping the head off. You let go, with the Sentinel now inactive, and turn to see Logan with his claws out digging into the chest of another one. His clawed fists go in and out over and over, the automaton down. 

You go back and forth between Hank and Logan, ensuring them the time they need to defend themselves safely. It’s a smooth rhythm, and you think things are going well, but then you see Erik appear a few feet away from Logan with metal pieces floating in the air. You go to stop Erik in his tracks, but then you hear running in your direction. 

“Run!” You hear Hank yell, and you turn to see him sprinting away from two Sentinels. 

“Shit!” You curse, and in the blink of an eye you are running with him, bullets hot on your trail.

You run with purpose, dodging whatever the Sentinels sent your way, but your attention was focused on Logan, who was cutting away at any metallic pieces Erik threw at him. It was a dance, every step forward meant a step back, and from what you were witnessing Logan was the better dancer. However, Erik has always been good at catching up.

The Sentinels are gaining ground, and you knew something had to give. They were doing what they were created for, and they wouldn’t stop now, not at this rate. You look at Hank as you both push on, and he looks back at you as he feels your eyes on him.

“We need to split off!” You yell at him. “You go towards that car over there, and I’ll go the opposite way.”

You both diverge, running away from one another in the hopes of confusing the Sentinels. You don’t hear bullets in your space anymore, but it causes you to look and see Hank surrounded. You go to stop them, but then a gasp shoots from your lungs as you feel metal wrap around your wrists. Next thing you know, you are hanging in the air.

You are thrashing, wrists bound tightly. You see Erik approaching you, and you panic but not because he is approaching you. It’s because you don’t see Logan.

Fuck, where’s Logan?

“I’m sorry, my little timelord,” Erik says with a hint of an actual apology. “This is what happens when you don’t choose a side.”

“I did what was best for me. No one else,” you grit out. You can feel blood start to trickle down your arm, the stretch opening your wound further.

“I guess you’ll see how that turns out for you.” Erik sets you onto the ground with a thud, and suddenly you feel metal coil around your neck. You start to feel the pressure against your throat, making your eyes bulge.

“No need to be scared, my dear. Just need you out of the picture for a few hours.” Your airways are getting crushed. Your hands are desperately trying to remove themselves from the makeshift cuffs, but to no avail. 

The coughing fits start, lungs eager for some relief, but they cry out when none comes. It’s strange to feel your lifespan waning, yet have your mind linger elsewhere.

Please be okay. God, please let Logan be safe.

As if your prayers were answered, you hear him in the distance. You can hear him shouting your name, and you ache at the sound. You are relieved, yet there is a sadness that sticks in your foggy brain. It almost makes you think that soul bonding is an actual force within the universe because you can tell what he is feeling. You can tell he feels like he is witnessing your death a second time. 

The bondage of metal weakens, air filling your lungs at full capacity. Your hands automatically go to your throat, rubbing the raw skin as you inhale and exhale. Your bearings are dispersed, and you work to gather all the pieces so you can see what is happening. It isn’t until you hear Logan yelling in pain, followed by grunts that rip from his gut, that you shoot up. Your eyes focus and what you see burns your chest as you let out a scream that processes faster than your mind can.

Metal rods pierce Logan’s body, curling into his legs and up his chest. They enter and exit like thread, and his facial expression is one of agony. His head turns towards you, his eyes screaming for you to look away and to run and never look back. However, your fears, your anger, your love for him is overcoming and it doesn’t take long for you to snap.

Your body screams as you move to your knees and throw your arms up, the aches telling you to stop wearing yourself further. Your power is straining, but your emotions are fueling the fire. No amount of pain will ever amount to the pain of losing Logan. 

You slam your fists to the ground, a ricochet from the impact spreading. Time stops in motion, the waves of your power spreading and catching everything in its wake. The pain increases, but you don’t care about that. You only care about Logan.

Everything is still aside from Logan’s body shakes. You run to him, falling to your knees to get closer. Your energy is depleting as you hold onto time, making your mind race to figure out what to do to help him. Your hands keep going to touch the rods, but back away every time he shudders with discomfort.

“Logan, tell me what to do,” you plead. “Tell me what I need to do to get these out.”

“Fuck…” Logan is working his jaw, seemingly trying to calm himself down. “Try pulling on one.”

You nod, placing both hands on a rod buried in his back. You counted down from three, and with a deep breath you pulled as hard as you could. The second Logan started yelling though, you let go.

“Shit! Please stop!” Logan shouts, the metal rods excruciating.

“Logan, we need to get these out of you please.” You were starting to sob; your hands running over his neck and face to try and soothe him.

“Sweetheart, please,” Logan grunts, trying not to move too much. “I promise you this won’t kill me.”

“But you are suffering,” you whisper, tears staining your face as new ones form. “I can hold this just please. You have to push them out or something.”

Something changes in Logan’s face, a sense of realization as you watch his eyes widen. A broken laugh leaves his lips, eyes glossing. “I finally understand.”

“W-what?” You stutter.

“I desperately wanted to save you, and I couldn’t. You had begged me not to, and I couldn’t fathom it.” He starts to cough, groans filling the cracks. “But I understand now. I’m sorry for not understanding before.”

“Please don’t,” you choke. “That doesn’t matter. What matters now is getting these out of you.” 

Your hands go to the rods again, but his hand grabs yours before you make contact. You are sure you look pitiful, especially as you aren’t one to beg. You guess when feelings get so strong, it doesn’t matter. Your heart is fully on your sleeve for Logan to see, and what you are showing is reflected in his pretty, glossy, hazel eyes. 

“I need you to promise me something, sweetheart,” Logan says gently. “I need you to promise me that you will find me.”

“Where? Where will I find you?” Your voice wavers, unable to keep your emotions at bay. 

“You know I can’t say, baby.” Logan’s hand squeezes yours, trying to be reassuring. “But you have before. I know you will find me again.”

You don’t know what to think of that. It could be years before you find him. Will it be right before the world goes to shit? Will it be in a decade or two from now? How can you go on living your life as normal when you don’t know when you will find him? Or how can you live knowing he isn’t right beside you?

“Don’t overthink this. Everything will be okay.”

You sniffle as you look at him, a tired smile on his face. A small laugh passes through your sobs. “Not very in character for you to be optimistic.”

“And it will be the last time you see me so optimistic for a long time,” Logan smirks. “But you can change that.”

You get on your stomach, moving so your face is level with his and kiss him one last time. It’s bittersweet, tasting him on your tongue. You hope you are conveying the answer he is looking for, one that tells him you promise to move heaven and earth for him. One that tells him you promise you are his, and no one will ever have you for as long as you both live. A promise that tells him you will find your way home to him, and you will bring him home to you.

You let go, breath wavering as you know what you are about to witness. Even with his reassurance, it will be hard to watch, and you know the tears will fall. It is inevitable.

“Baby, go find Charles. Make sure he is okay and stick with him. Once you find him, let me go.”

You nod, pecking his lips one more time before getting up to your feet. You look at him, taking in every detail that imprints your memory, making sure to never forget that the man before you is your soulmate for life.

“I love you, Logan.” You say with teary eyes. 

“I love you. I’ll see you soon.” He smiles, before closing his eyes, preparing himself.

You quickly run off, afraid that if you didn’t you wouldn’t allow yourself to. You run over to the giant terrain of rubble where Charles was, and you see him lying there frozen like everything else. You maneuver into his spot, a tight fit with enough room for you to situate yourself. You look back out onto the field, and you quiver as you see Logan lying there just waiting as he suffers in pain. You look down, eyes squeezing tight before you snap your fingers, a heavy weight off your shoulders as you suck in a deep breath.

“Oh darling, when did you get in here?”

You open your eyes to see Charles, breathing heavier than usual as he lays in discomfort. You work to prop him up, holding onto him so he can sit up right. It is at that moment you hear yelling, and you look back out to see Logan in the air with Erik holding his metallic weight. You want to look away, unable to bear the sight, but they stay glued to them. Then, you see Erik flex his fingers.

As you watch Logan fly away, your lungs urge a cry to curl out into the atmosphere, but you suppress it. After everything, you have faith in him. He gave you the faith you needed to believe everything will turn out alright. Even as you watch Erik yank the bunker up from the ground and out the White House, you have faith that the future will be safe, because you won’t let Logan down. You have a promise to keep.

Logan has become your Orion; your guiding star. He has become your alpha and your omega. He is your sole mission in this life, and he is not a mission you plan to fail.

You will set things right, and you will find him. 

Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters; Westchester, NY; Year 2023

The first time ever I saw your face…

Music. Soft, calming music enters his conscience. He’s heard this melody before in the same fashion, but that was forever ago, right? 

I thought the sun rose in your eyes…

Logan stirs, his brain doing a leap and a jump from REM sleep as it tries to wake up. He has lived this moment before, as the music says he has. Is he back to where he started? Or is it something else?

And the moon and the stars were the gifts you gave…

Where is he? The last thing he remembers was drowning. Metal pierced his body so deep he could taste it with freshwater. It should linger, but it doesn’t. He doesn’t taste anything abnormal. He’s on a bed. Did someone save him? Whose bed is this? 

To the dark and the endless skies…

His eyes open, sunlight shining brightly as they adjust. The room is familiar, and it dawns on him that it’s because it is his room. Their room. 

He turns to his side slowly, his body still adjusting to whatever the fuck it was he’s waking up to. He sees the little radio on the bedside table, the holographic globe spinning as the words “Golden Oldies” glide around it. 

And the first time ever I kissed your mouth…

Holy shit… he did it. 

Suddenly, the door opens, and nothing could have prepared him. 

“Hey, sleepyhead!”

There you were in all your glory. You were dressed for the day: a tight and long black velvet skirt with a short black sleeve shirt and black combat boots. There are little crow's feet and bunny lines by your eyes and your hair has grown out. He is starstruck, and his heart is threatening to leap out of his chest.

You walked up to him, your legs touching the bed as you looked down at him. “I know I look good. No need to let the flies in.”

Logan shuts his mouth, moving to sit up. There are so many things he wants to say, do. But nothing will come out. All he can do is stare and bumble like an idiot.

“You know it’s nine, right? You missed your first class.” 

His class?

“What?”

“Don’t worry, Lo. Your students got a little lesson from me about 70s music culture, so they weren’t totally out of a history lesson.” You say with a wink.

He doesn’t respond, eyes mesmerized as you walk over to the desk, putting away folders from what he assumes was the previous class.

“Can you believe these kids know nothing about the Ramones? Or even ELO or Fleetwood Mac? It’s blasphemous.” You shut the drawer, and go to lean back against the desk, smiling at him.

“I’ll get up, baby. Don’t you worry about me.” You say in a mock deep voice, pushing yourself off the furniture. “Last night must have really worn you out for you to sleep like the dead.” 

You are giggling and Logan is on edge. You are here. You are alive. He was hopeful that would be the case, but to see everything come to fruition was a lot to process. 

“Lo, baby, are you okay?” You are in front of him, moving in between his legs. 

He can’t help himself. He has his arms around your thighs, pulling you onto his lap. His hand secures itself at the nape of your neck, bringing your head down to his so his lips can intercept yours. Your skirt has ridden up, scrunching up at your ass giving Logan the chance to mold his hand into the flesh. He kisses you with ferocity, needing everything from you.

“Logan,” you laughed between his kisses. “I can’t believe you want to go again after last night, you dog.”

“You’re here,” Logan groans against your lips. “My baby, you’re here.”

“Of course I’m here. Why wouldn’t I be?” Your hands scratch his head, and he simpers as his mouth attaches to your neck, sniffing your pulse point as he keeps you firmly against him. You smell so good, so much so he wants to soak you into his skin.

“You are acting so strange right now, baby. Are you sure everything is okay?”

Logan lays his head against your chest, listening to your heart flutter away. He could cry listening to it, the comforting sound creating a lullaby that will lull his sore head to rest. It’s different hearing it now, knowing that when he wakes up once more, you will be here. You will be by his side when he goes to sleep at night, and when he wakes up. He will share every sunset and sunrise with you, something he will never take for granted for even a second. 

He feels your hands cradling his head, keeping it steady as he starts to rock you in his arms. “What are you thinking, Lo?”

He lifts his head to look at you, your eyes full of warmth. You are looking at him with such patience and poise. Your hands are still on his head, and he goes to move them to his temples. 

“Shift my mind.”

“Logan,” you say, taken aback and unsure but he quells your worry with another slow kiss.

“Trust me,” he murmurs against your mouth. “I need you to understand what I am feeling right now.”

He shuts his eyes, hoping you will indulge him and he smiles when he feels the warmth at his temples spread. He thought his mind going back to his last memory of drowning would cause panic, but he is calm. Maybe it’s because you are able to keep him afloat as you rewind what played out.

It is short lived, but soon he feels your hands go down to the scruff of his facial hair. He opens his eyes and he sees the tears welling in your eyes with a smile. 

“My God, you did it. You remember,” you choked out. Logan can’t help but smother your lips again before kissing your tears away.

“You did a lot of the heavy lifting, sweetheart.” Logan chuckles against your skin. “But most importantly,” he pulls away, hands going to your face to make sure you understand how sincere he is. “You found me. Just like you promised me.”

“I said I would,” you say through tears. “I was determined to find you. To share this life with you.”

This life. A life with all the good things and even the bad ones. A life that he gets to live with you. This new life: a second chance. With this second chance, he isn’t going to waste it. 

“Close your eyes,” Logan says with a peck.

You shut them, and he carefully sets you on the bed for him to stand up. He rushes to the bookshelf, hoping that in this new timeline he was smart enough to have gotten the one thing that showed complete and utter devotion. Even more so, he hopes he hid it where he originally had. 

He finds the royal blue spine, pulling it out to open to the first few pages before the hole within the book is revealed. His lips turn with a quiver, seeing the ring just as it was before. He picks it up, holding it out in the sunlight to watch the diamond sparkle and the gold ban shine. It’s simple but you were never one for extravagant things. After a life of running free, you wanted the simple life and that is exactly what he will give you.

He walks back around the bed, getting on his knees to settle between your legs as he spreads them. Your skirt rode up again and he can’t help but kiss your left thigh and give the other a squeeze. The sweetest noise comes from you, and it only makes him nip at the skin. 

“God, you are such a tease.”

“I can’t resist,” he hums before lifting his head. He holds out the ring and with care takes your left hand in his right. 

“Go ahead and open those pretty eyes for me.” 

He watches your eyes flutter open, a gasp falling from your lips when your eyes fall onto his palm. Your fingers instinctively went to it, and Logan held it more towards you to let them grace the ring. 

“I’ve thought about how I’ve wanted to do this so many times,” Logan starts. “So much so that I pushed it off until it was too late. I will not make that same mistake twice.”

“Logan,” you say with your fingers trailing to his face, as if telling him nothing is his fault. He knows.

“I know I have so much to catch up on and learn. There will be things I am not aware of. You may be different, and I may be different,” He takes the ring and your left hand, holding it near but not quite enacting the officiality. “But the one thing that will never change is how you will always be at the forefront of my mind because I am nothing without you. At the end of the day, I want to come home to you as your husband and you as my wife if you will have me.”

This is such a vulnerable moment, and there was a time where it would eat him up alive. However, being right here with you, proposing to you in this shared room under the light of the morning, encourages him like nothing else. Vulnerability with you gives him strength.

You are biting your lip, eyes watering again as you nod your head profusely. “Put that ring on my finger, handsome.”

He slides the ring onto your ring finger, settling into place perfectly. You held it up, and he watched as you admired the piece, the sparkle of the diamond reflecting in your eyes. It sparks you to look back at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and he notices you shift until your lower body pushes him onto the floor. Your arms bring him in, his head meeting yours as lips reconnect once more.

“I love you so much, Logan. I am truly the luckiest woman alive.” 

All he can think is if you were the luckiest woman, then he is the luckiest man. One decision could have led to a world in which you didn’t exist or one where you two would just be specks living completely different lives. To have woken up in a new world, one that’s more promising, is luck after the hell he had experienced. Having you here in his lap, kissing him like he is the center of your universe, makes him weep with joy. 

You are his world, and in this new life, rather than the world stopping, it continues to spin forward.

[arlana-likes-to-write]

I really liked your sister!reader series with Natasha 🙂👍

If you are taking requests , csn I request f!reader(batman) X Natasha , where Natasha is the one pinning after reader who is distant (Bruce Wayne vibes, not as extroverted as Tony). Natasha and reader are exes, she comes to reader for help maybe with Yelena after the Red room was destroyed maybe ? Feel free to ignore /delete if it's bad .

North Star

Warnings: mention of death (reader's parents), torture, kidnapping, angst with a happy ending, post Black Widow movie but before Infinity War, injuries, blood, reader is enhanced

Word Count: 6.6K

Note: I would like to Apologize for how long this took me to fulfil. This one shot has been almost done for MONTHS. Ugh. Hope you enjoy!

You were surprised she still had it. You gave it to her to use whenever she needed help. It was insurance to know that she would always be safe. However, it had been a long time since it had gone off. You last heard from her a year ago when she disappeared. You were sitting at your desk when you felt your drawer buzz. A part of you thought about ignoring it. To show her the same level of care she gave you, but you made a promise and weren’t one to break them. Whenever she would call, you would answer. Opening up the drawer, you pulled out a pager. It may have said a lot that she kept it. The same could be said about you. You looked at the location. She was close by. There was something about her that always seemed to call you in, a spell that called you to her web.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Sitting in the dark isn’t how to greet a friend.” You heard the smirk in her voice.

“I wouldn’t call us that,” you turned on the lamp next to the couch. The small apartment illuminated, and you stared at your ex. Natasha Romanoff. Avenger. Black Widow. She was no longer a redhead but a blonde cut into a bob. You crossed one leg over the other and held out the pager. “I’m surprised you still have it,”

“I never got rid of it,” you noticed the necklace around her neck and the charm you gave her- a star. It was Polaris, the North Star. You gave it to her on your first anniversary.

“What do you want?” you asked, ignoring her statement. She pointed to the empty spot next to you. You nodded, and she sat down, playing with the necklace.

“I need your help.” That wasn’t a surprise.

“Why don’t you ask the Avengers for help?” You asked. She glared at you. You knew why she couldn’t ask for their help; it was all over the news. The Avengers were disbanded after a very public fight in Germany. But you wanted her to say it.

“I can’t go to them. You are the only one I can turn to for help.” You leaned back on the couch. She placed her hand on your thigh. You grabbed her by her wrist and took her hand off of you. You hated the way your body warmed up a simple touch. She lost the privilege to touch you like that, to see you at your most vulnerable.

“Tell me what you need.”

“My sister hasn’t checked in for 12 hours, and I don’t have the right resources to find her myself.” She explained. You frowned. Once upon a time, she told you about a sister she had in Ohio.

“Is this about what I saw on the news?” You asked. You saw a report that Natasha evaded capture from Ross. The field she escaped from looked like a battlefield. She smirked.

“Are you keeping tabs on me?”

“No,” you deadpanned. “It’s part of my job to keep tabs on the news.” You sighed. “Where was the last time you heard from her?”

“She checked in at her safe house in Belize.” Good. You had a home there. Your parents would visit the country several times yearly to conduct business. It made sense for them to buy a house. You hadn’t been there since their death.

“We should head over there now,” you said, standing up. “The longer we wait, the harder it will be to find her.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” You didn’t respond, so you walked out of the apartment. You knew she was following her without looking behind her.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You were leaning against the table, looking over the information on the Widow Yelena was tracking. The jet was on autopilot, so worrying about that was unnecessary. The quietness was interrupted by her footsteps walking over to you. She stood shoulder to shoulder next to you, and her arm barely touched you. “This brings me back to when I’d find you hunched over your work table.” She placed her hand on your lower back. You shrugged it off. You walked over to the cockpit and sat down in the pilot seat. Once the jet was out of autopilot, you took control. You need to get your mind on something instead of the Russian.

2011

You were invited to a Stark party. Parties weren’t your scene, but as a part of New York Cities elites, there would be talk if you were absent. The one thing you hated more than parties was gossip. So you stood at the bar sipping on a jack and coke. “Starfire!” You suppressed a sigh at the nickname from the billionaire. Tony Stark walked over to you with a redhead by his side.

“Stark,” you said, offering your hand to the man, but you were pulled into a hug. You patted his back. “How much have you had to drink?” You asked.

“Not nearly enough,” he ended the hug. “This one is keeping me in line.” He waved down the bartender. “This is my new assistant, Natalie Rushman.” Tony’s attention was on the bartender. She was stunning. Her red hair was curled at the end, and she wore a black cocktail dress.

“Y/n Ortega,” you introduced yourself. “Owner of Titanis Production.”

“Oh, I know who you are,” she said. It’s my job to know all of Mr. Stark’s associates.” She held out her hand for you to shake, but you took it and kissed it instead.

“Well, I hope Stark doesn’t tell you all my secrets.” She smiled.

“Don’t worry, kid,” Tony said, sipping his drink. “Your secrets are safe with me. Now excuse me, I have to make my rounds.”

“I’ll see you around Stark,” the billionaire walked away, but Natalia lingered next to you.

“I hope to see you again,” she smirked. You took a sip of your drink.

“I have a feeling you’ll know where to find me,” you had a strange feeling about her. She smiled and followed Tony. You watched for a beat before placing your glasses on. “AUROA, who is that?” You asked your AI system.

It took a moment for AUROA to find anything. Natalie Rushman modeled in 2004 and worked in Japan, Italy, and the United States in the early 2000s . She received her BA and MA in history from the University of Southern Carolina. The cherry on top was that she interned at Hammer Industries while studying at Harvard University. Everything felt perfect.

“AUROA, keep digging,” you sipped on your drink.

“I would have to hack into SHIELD,” the AI said. SHIELD? Why was the American governmental counter-terrorism agency interested in Stark? Besides the whole Iron Man thing.

“Do it,” you gave the order. As you waited and sipped on your drink, your eyes followed Tony and Natalia around the party.

“It appears that Natalia Rushman goes by many names,” you looked away from the duo as AUROA continued to explain. “Currently, she is going by Natasha Romanoff, and she is a Black Widow.”

“How dangerous?” You asked. It took a moment for the AI to respond.

“According to SHIELD, she is the most decorated assassin of the modern era. “You couldn’t help but look towards Natalia, and the SHIELD agent was already looking at you.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Even at your status, you found parties boring. Sighing, you walked out to the balcony and felt a pressure release from your chest. Being underneath the stars always seemed to calm you down. You felt less trapped under the vast and never-ending sky. “Tired of the party already?” Natalie -no- Natasha said, walking over to you.

“Shouldn’t you be babysitting Tony?” You countered. The woman chuckled.

“It’s Pepper’s turn,” you hummed. That woman had more patience than God himself. “So, Y/n,” you liked the way your name fell from her lips, but you kept your face expressionless. “What secrets is Tony keeping for you?” She asked.

“I bet you know all of them,” you said, stepping forward and closing the space between you two. “Natasha,” you whispered her name as if it were a secret for you, her, and the stars above. She had an incredible poker face, but you weren’t surprised.

“I’m impressed, but for the Polaris, I expect no less.” You went by Polaris when you weren’t the CEO of your family’s company and tried to keep the city you lived in safe. You took a sip of your drink.

“What do you want with Stark?” You asked.

“I’m afraid I can’t disclose that,” she smiled. “I do hope you enjoy your night,” she said. She walked back into the party, but you grabbed her arm and pulled her back to you. Her chest was flushed to yours, and you could feel her heart beating.

“Tony Stark is family,” you told her. “So if he’s in trouble. I’d like to know.”

“Why don’t you find out yourself? Use that big brain of yours.” You smiled, releasing your hold on her arm, but she stayed close. Her green eyes stared up at you.

“I’d like to hear it from you. Over a drink, maybe, not at this party,” A soft smile spread across Natasha’s face.

“Yeah?” She questioned. You gave her a short nod. “Let’s get out of here then.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Natasha picked the lock of Yelena’s safe room. She opened the door and stepped to the side so you could walk in. It was a simple studio apartment with a basic kitchen and a bed. The place was well kept, except for the bottle of vodka left on the counter. You walked over to the small closet and opened it. Her clothes were hung up, and a duffle bag rested on the top shelf. Inside the bag were some extra magazines and a file she was tracking down on the Widow. “Look at this,” Natasha said, walking over to you. “She thought she was being followed.” You took the pad of paper from her. Yelena was keeping track of the Widow’s movement.

“Why didn’t she tell you or Melina about this?” You asked. She did not describe who she thought was following her; she only thought they were men.

“She probably thought she could handle it. She’s stubborn.” You hummed, nodding your head.

“Sounds like another Black Widow, I know,” you said. You handed her the notepad back and walked over to the window. You moved the blinds and saw a small fruit shop. “There’s nothing here that will help us,” you told the Russian. “But I have an idea.”

Putting on a smile, you walked through the fruit containers toward a woman behind a counter. “Hola,” the woman greeted you. “How can I help you?” Her English was laced with a heavy accent, but it was oddly confronting. It reminded you of babysitters and cleaners that your parents hired.

“Hello, ma’am, I was wondering if you could help us,” she looked hesitant between you and Natasha. “My wife and I were supposed to meet her sister, but she hasn’t shown up. Have you seen her? She’s blonde, shorter than me, and has a Russian accent.”

“Are you the police?” She asked. You shook your head.

“No, ma’am. My name is Y/n Ortega. " The relief that washed across the woman’s face wasn’t lost on you when she recognized your last name. There was a part of you that hated using your last name and the influence you knew you had, but desperate times call for desperate measures. The shopkeeper grabbed your hand and kissed your family ring. You glanced at Natasha, who just shrugged.

“Oh, Sra. Ortega, we were so sad to hear of your parent’s passing. We prayed for your family every night.” She dropped your hand.

“Thank you,” you told her. “I appreciate it.” And it was the truth, but the mention of your parent’s death always struck a deep emotion within you. They were killed right in front of you. You felt Natasha loop her arm through yours, and you fought your body’s natural reaction to lean against her.

“So, have you seen my sister?” she asked, her voice having a slight Russian accent. She was a great actress. The woman looked around to ensure no one else was around.

“The last time I saw your sister was two days ago. I told her that some men were following her and asking about her.” She whispered, afraid someone would hear her.

“These men? Do you know who they are?” She looked terrified. “Señora, I can protect you, but if you know anything to help us, please tell us.”

“We call them Ascendencia, the real people that run this town,” it was the group that the Widow Yelena was trying to help work for.

“Thank you. You have been a big help,” Natasha said. You pulled out your wallet and handed her money, but she closed your hand around the cash.

“Keep it,” she said. “Your presence is priceless. The estrella de belén (Bethlehem star) is back.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Even though your company thought you were on vacation, you had some work to do. You planned to hit the Ascendancy at night. The night was when your powers were best utilized. While Natasha was showering, you were working on your laptop. Well, you were trying, but what the shop owner said was racing through your mind. The Star of Bethlehem was a phenomenon that scholars could never prove existed. Perhaps it was a supernova, a comet, a solar flare, or even an alignment of planets. Or it may never have existed after all. The truth was science may never know. From a religious standpoint, the star in the Bible and Christian tradition was said to have led the Magi to the birthplace of Jesus Christ. By this woman calling you the Star of Bethlehem, she saw you as the next savior. Why were you the savior? “You know,” Natasha said. You looked up from your laptop and stared at the Russian, only wearing a bathrobe. “I liked it when you called me your wife.” She walked over to the bar and poured a glass of wine. She took a sip and walked over to you. Your eyes never left her as she took the laptop from your hand.

“What are you doing?” You asked and grabbed her wrist.

“Getting you to relax,” she put the glass of wine in your hand. “You’ve been on edge since we left that woman’s fruit stand.” She chose to sit right next to you. Her legs were touching yours. “Are you okay? I know your parents are a touchy subject.” You rolled your eyes and stood up, pushing the glass of wine in her hands.

“Like you care about me,” you said. You picked up your laptop and headed to your room.

“I never stopped caring about you,” you stopped. “Or loving you, for that matter.” Slowly, you turned around to face her.

“Then why did you disappear?” You asked her. “Why did you throw a five-year relationship down the drain?”

“For you. To keep you safe,” you stared at her, disbelief evident on your face. I signed the Accords,” you knew this. You followed it very closely. “Tony signed the Accords. If Ross found out who you are, he would have thrown you in the RAFT.” She ran to protect you. You shook your head.

“I would have signed the Accords,” you honestly said.

“No, the Polaris is too much of who you are. I wasn’t going to let them take that away from you.”

“Stop,” you hissed. “Stop making decisions that affect me without talking to me.” You let out a shaky breath. “I would have left it all behind for you because I loved you,” her face fell as you said ‘loved.’ “But you made a decision that wasn’t yours to make.” She stood up, leaving the wine glass on the table, and closed the distance between you and her.

“What can I do to fix this?” You looked at Natasha and stared into her green eyes. So many nights, you’ve gotten lost in the green of her eyes. There was a part of you, deep within you, that wanted to embrace her, look past everything, and open your heart back up to her. But the rational part of your mind overpowered the hopeless romantic. You remembered the countless nights you stayed up late over a bottle of whiskey, the times you were the Polaris and thought fuck it and let whoever you were fighting to kill you. Anything would have been better than the pain of her leaving.

“I don’t know, Natasha,” you sighed. “Let’s focus on saving Yelena.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“How many do you see?” You asked her. You were on the rooftop a few buildings from the prison where Yelena was being held. It was in an abandoned town, so it was a perfect spot for a group that wanted to remain under the radar. Unfortunately, many villages were abandoned due to drug cartels or natural disasters. Natasha put down the binoculars.

“Multiple guards with assault rifles. There are snipers on the towers,” she sighed. “Whatever is going on in there, they want to protect it. Any ideas on how to get it?” You smiled and rubbed your hands together.

“A few exactly,” you felt her gaze on you. “Stop looking at me like that.” The Black Widow shrugged.

“You look good in your suit,” you could say the same thing about her. She added new additions since the last time you saw her. A vest was on the top, and the Black Widow symbol on her belt was gone. Your suit was the same. Your face was covered to hide your identity, and your suit was black but with white specs that mapped out constellations. One constellation, Orion, was across your chest. The other was Scorpius down your back. The final constellation was Scutum, which was up and down your arms. They all meant protection.

Glancing up at the sky, it was clear. Not a single cloud in the sky. It was the perfect night to use your powers. “Oh great, Cassiopeia, lend me your powers,” you placed your hands on the roof’s ledge. “Show me the way to what I seek.” Your hands glowed orange, and a trail raced toward the prison. Each guard it passed, it outlined them. The light provided a path to follow, stopping at a cell. The orange glow highlighted a girl.

“That must be Yelena,” Natasha pointed to where the glow stopped. “We have to get to her,” you grabbed her arm to prevent her from getting up. “What are you doing?”

“Just trust me,” you said to her. “You may be good, but there is no way you can sneak past all those guards and get Yelena out.” Besides, Cassiopeia showed you Yelena’s location, not her condition. Keeping your hand on her arm, you let out a shaky breath. “Great Gamma Draconis,” you said. “Lend me your power and bestow us your gift.” She looked at you, confused because nothing happened, unlike when she saw your powers up close. “We are invisible to everyone else, and if we stop touching each other, then we become invisible to each other.” You went to remove your hand to show her, but she grabbed it and interlocked her fingers with yours.

You couldn’t help but look at your connected hands. It felt so good to feel her skin against yours. Her hands were smooth besides the callous on her fingers from shooting. After all this time, her touch could still ground you, and you weren’t lost in the astral plane. “Come on,” you said. “Let’s go save your sister.” The sooner this mission was over, than you would never have to see her again.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Your powers made it easy to sneak towards the prison and break inside. The only problem was that you struggled to focus on how close Natasha was to you. Suddenly, she stopped and pushed you against the wall. She put her finger to her lips and pointed. You followed to where she was pointing and saw two men. They were speaking in Spanish, and you quickly translated the conversation in your head.

‘That blonde bitch is getting on my nerves,’ one said.

‘The boss wants her alive,’ the other added. ‘We just have to be patient, and then we will be rewarded.’ They walked away. It was a good thing they needed her alive, but the question was why. You leaned closer to Natasha’s ear.

“We need to hurry,” you whispered, ignoring the way her body shivered and she leaned towards you. You pushed her away slightly and continued to follow the path. A plan was swirling in your head: get Yelena out, care for her wounds, and stop this group.

To your surprise, there was no guard at the cell. Natasha picked the lock and dragged you inside, but the room was empty, and the door slammed shut behind you. Natasha dropped your hand, and she was visible. “Where is she?” She asked. You ran to the door and placed your hand on the handle. It was luck.

“Aquila,” you said. “Eagle that carried Zeus’ thunderbolt free us.” Nothing happened. Instead, vents opened on the ceiling, and gas began to fill the room. Natasha fell to her knees, coughing as the mysterious gas filled her lungs. You ran over to the Black Widow. Your suit glowed as the stars protected you from the gas.

“Nat,” she slumped against you as her eyes closed. Her breathing was labored, but she had a pulse. The door opened behind you. You turned to face whoever entered, but a bat to the side of your head brought you down. Your arms wrapped around Natasha, one last desperate act to protect her.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You woke up to the metallic taste in your mouth. It took a minute for your eyes to adjust to the low light, but you saw Natasha chained up next to her sister. They were awake, but it was hard to assess her injuries. You moved your arms and saw that you were chained to the ground in a kneeling position. The rattle of your chains got Natasha’s attention. “You’re up,” her voice sounded distorted. It was like someone stuffed your ears with cotton. You shook your head to rid the feeling, but it made it worse. “Hey,” you looked at the Russian. “Focus on my voice. You have a gash on the side of your head.” That explained the blood. “Can you heal it?” That was simple. You could heal it. You let out a shaky breath.

“Great Rod of Asclepius, I call upon your power to heal me and those around me.” But the typical warmth didn’t come. Instead, your body burned. You hissed in pain as a blue glow burned bright in the room. Above the door were symbols on the wall that you weren’t sure what they were. They were everywhere.

“They were here when they put me in here,” Yelena said. Why? They knew you were coming if they graved these symbols to suppress your abilities. “I’m guessing you are the one my sister wouldn’t shut up about.”

“Yelena!” Natasha hissed.

“I’m Y/n. It’s nice to meet you finally, Yelena. I’ve heard a lot about you.” The shock on her face was evident. On any other day, you would question the look of shock on her face, but you needed to figure out how to get out of here. You tugged at the metal chains, but they wouldn’t move. There was a way out, but it was dangerous for you and those around you.

The doors opened, and a man and woman entered. Two guards were stationed by the door. The woman walked over to Natasha and Yelena, grabbing them by their chins. “Don’t touch them,” you warned.

“I don’t think you are in any position to make demands, Polaris,” the man said and approached you. His fingers graze the cut on your head. Your blood covered his fingers. “Why aren’t you healing? Are you having some trouble?” He smirked. You wanted to wipe it off his stupid face.

“What do you want?” Natasha asked. The man ignored Natasha and continued to stare at you. You tried to hold his stare, but it sent a shiver down your spine. Finally, you looked away.

“You look like your mother,” he knelt before you. “It’s a pity she was taking from you so young. She was special.”

“What do you want?” you finally asked. It seemed impossible, but his smile got bigger and wider.

“We did all of this for you,” he stood up. “Aren’t you enjoying it?” His counterpart took his spot in front of you. Her fingernails dug into your cheek.

“Smile, darling,” she said. Frowning causes wrinkles, and we want your face to be nice and beautiful. " She kissed your cheek. We won’t hurt you unless you start being difficult.” You saw Natasha’s eyes turn stormy. Your ex was always possessive. It looked like some things stayed the same.

“How about we cut the shit and steamroll this process?” Natasha deadpanned. “You give us your villain speech, we escape and stop you, and I can stop by the beach and enjoy a margarita before my flight home,” you almost laughed at the stunned look on the couple’s face. Natasha always had a flare for the dramatics, but the man snapped his fingers. It happened instantly, the pain that radiated through your body was unlike anything you’ve experienced. You groaned but tried to keep your noises at bay. You refused to give them that satisfaction, but you saw the concern and worry in Natasha’s eyes. Her face remained stoic. The man snapped again, and the pain stopped.

“She’s perfect!” the woman cheered and kissed the man’s cheek.

“I told you she would be, sweetheart,” he grabbed her chin and brought their lips together.

“Gross,” you heard Yelena mumble. After a few deep breaths, your body wasn’t on fire anymore.

“I don’t understand,” you said. “Who are you people?”

“It’s no surprise your parents never told you about us. My name is Victor Reyes,” he grabbed the woman’s hand. “And this is my beautiful wife, Anna.” Even though pain fogged up your mind, you knew it was terrible that they gave you their full name. It was a sign that you weren’t getting out of here alive. “Your parents ruined us, and now you will help us rebuild.”

“What did they do?” You questioned. “They were business people, not fighters,” your parents wouldn’t fight a terrorist group unless they were disrupting the business. Anna laughed.

“Poor baby, mommy and daddy lied to you,” she said. “Do you think it was a coincidence you got those powers the night your parents were killed? You weren’t the first vigilante in the family.” You frowned. They couldn’t have had these powers. Every night, you were left alone with O'Conner, your family butler; they covered that they were stuck at work.

“What do you want from her?” Yelena asked. Victor turned to face the blonde.

“Her life force,” he said. It was said so causally that you almost missed it. “Her gift can power weapons, buildings, and people. Our leader tried to jump-start this project, but her parents killed him.”

Killed someone? Your parents weren’t killers. They were involved in the family business, and you or they had no time to dirty their hands. Natasha saw the sea of emotions pass through you. “So that is your plan?” Natasha questioned. “Use her powers to take over the world,” she rolled her eyes. “We’ve seen this before. It’s not an original idea.” Victor knelt in front of Natasha.

“You don’t understand the magnitude of your lover’s powers, do you?” Your stomach turned. Victor twisted her blonde locks around his fingers. “The stars are so important to our world.”

“Stars are the primary source of elements that make up the universe: carbon, nitrogen, oxygen,” Anna moved next to you and placed her hand on your head. Her nails dug into your scalp. “Astronomers believe stars to be the cosmic engines that create galaxies.”

“Exactly, my love,” Victor smiled over his shoulder. “You see now, Mrs. Romanoff, we won’t just take over this world but every galaxy that the stars touch,” he stood up. “We have people stationed all over, ready for our word. We will rebuild this galaxy into something beautiful. " Their voices became white noise as they continued to taunt Yelena and Natasha. Finally, they left you three alone.

“Well, this is great,” Yelena mumbled, slumping back against the wall. If they were to harness your powers, they could bring down galaxies, create new ones, and be the ultimate ruler. This was bad.

“Hey,” you looked at Natasha. “What’s going through your head?”

“I need to get you two out of here,” you said. There was a small window, and you could see the stars and feel the power that they gave you.

“How do you plan to do that?” The younger Black Widow questioned. “Those symbols stop your powers.” You nodded, licking your lips. You could do this.

“Oh, great, Asclepius and Aquila, I call on you to allow me to use your gifts, release them from their bonds, and heal their wounds.” You bite down on your lip to stop the whimper of pain that threatened to escape. Black dots covered your vision, and everything was burning. You swore your blood was on fire.

The only thing keeping you upright were the chains attached to the ground—until your forehead came in contact with the fabric of Natasha’s suit. You heard the sisters talking, but their words were muffled like you were in an episode of Charlie Brown when the adults were talking. “Hey,” the older Black Widow turned her attention to you. “You have to leave me.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Maybe, but you were a liability. You were in no shape to transverse this compound to leave. You pulled away from Natasha and spit blood onto the floor. “They want you. We need to get you out of here.”

“You need to get out of here and warn the team. If” a violent cough ripped through your body and you tasted more blood in your mouth. Shit. That was not good. You ignored the worried look the sisters shared. “If they are as big as they are claiming, you need the Avengers to stop them. I,” your vision began to blur. “I can stop them here.” What if Victor and Anna weren’t the real leaders behind this? Even if they couldn’t harness your ability, they were still a threat to the balance of this world.

“Sweetheart,” Natasha whispered. You managed a smile at the pet name and focused on her eyes. You loved them so much. You noticed her face would be emotionless with the years together, but her eyes gave so much away.

“Moya zvezda (my star),” Natasha tried to teach you Russian, but you only learned a few words. Star was one of them. “My North Star, it’s going to be okay.” You weren’t sure if you could keep that promise. “You’ll get the team back together and save the world like always.”

“Please, there has to be another way,” you glanced at Yelena. A silent plea to get her sister out of here. She nodded.

“I never stopped loving you, Natasha,” you admitted. “No matter how much you leaving hurt.”

“Sestra,” Yelena nudged Natasha’s shoulder. “We should go. We do not know when they will be back.” You smiled and nodded your head. Natasha sighed and hugged you tight. Her lips grazed your forehead, and you leaned into her touch.

“If this is the last time we see each other. I’m going to be fucking pissed.” You couldn’t help but chuckle and watch Yelena drag Natasha to the door. She looked over her shoulder one last time and left.

You hung your head and let out a shaky breath. Each breath sent a sharp pain through your sides. Until today, you never understood why you were gifted these powers, but you knew you wanted to protect people. They were gifted to you on the night your parents were killed. When O'Conner took you home from the hospital, you fell into a deep sleep and had a very high fever. He had to bring you right back to the hospital.

Everyone chalked it up to stress. You witnessed a traumatic event, and that was how your body reacted to it. Only you, O'Conner and the Starks knew the truth of what you became. You could call on the power of the stars and harness their powers. It took a lot of trial and error to figure out which star provided what power.

But you made a promise to those around you that you would never call on the power of the sun. The power was too unpredictable, and the damage to your body was unclear. It was a promise you had to break. You spit out the blood that was pooling in your mouth. “Please,” you whispered. “Please. After everything I’ve given and suffered with this gift, help me.” Another cough ripped through you as the symbols glowed a light blue.

“Helios,” you kept your voice strong and steady. “I call upon you to bestow me with your powers.” Your body began to burn as the symbols tried to stop your powers. “Helios, please use me to embody your powers and stop those threatening peace.”

The symbols grew brighter, but the burning stopped, and soon, you were filled with warmth. It was like a warm embrace from an old friend or a hug from your mother. Your wounds healed, and the chains that imprisoned you fell to the ground. With newfound strength, you stood up, walked to the middle of the room, and knelt down. The palm of your hand was pressed against the concert floor.

“Helios,” you saw your body glow yellow like the sun. “Destroy.” The glow traveled across the room. As the glow moved throughout the compound, you saw everything Helios encountered. The members of Ascendencia were in a panic; some ran for the exit. “Capture,” Helios grabbed those that ran and cemented them to the ground. You saw Victor order those around him to stop you, but it was too late. The most important thing was that Helios did not see Natasha and Yelena; they must have made it out.

“Boom,” you mumbled. You felt the explosion first. The heat and power of Helios sent you flying into the wall. With you still connected to the sun, you heard and felt all the lives that were taken. The pain was unbearable, and you fell into the darkness, welcomed by a call from your mother.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

There was a pressure on your chest when you came too. You opened your eyes and blinked a few times from the harsh light. On your chest was blonde hair cut into a bob, and she was resting on your chest. “Natasha,” you mumbled. She sat up quickly, eyes wide when she heard your voice. There were bags under her eyes, and her cheeks were blotchy. Carefully, you cupped her cheek and moved her thumb across her skin. “Am I dead?” Your ex laughed, shaking your head. You watched tears form in her eyes.

“No,” she whispered. “You almost were. It was touch and go for so long I wasn’t sure if you would make it,” you pushed a few tears that fell away. “Tony is pissed.” You chuckled.

“At me or you?”

“Both,” it was her turn to smile, but it was shaky. You moved your hand to her neck and pulled her closer to you. She protested, mumbling about not wanting to hurt you. You hushed her and moved over so she could lie down next to you. Her face was buried in the space between your neck and shoulder. Her breath fawned against your neck. Natasha’s voice was soft as she explained everything.

According to Natasha, she and Yelena got out just in time before the building exploded. Yelena couldn’t stop her sister from returning to find you. While Natasha searched for you, Yelena called the woman from the fruit stand - Gloria. When the older Black Widow found you, a white glow surrounded you. You were alive but barely.

They were able to move you to Gloria’s home, where you stayed until you were stable enough to move back to the Avengers’ compound in Upstate New York. That was three weeks ago. While you were healing, Natasha brought the Avengers together and started the process of taking down the Ascendencia. It was slow work, but it was going well.

You knew she could do it. There was something about Natasha that drew people in. “Everyone knows,” she said and sat up so she could see your face. “Tony tried to stop it, but everyone knows you are the Polaris.” Somehow, you knew this day would come, and you were okay with the world knowing. It was a surprise your secret lasted this long.

“Okay,” you said. “That’s fine. I’ll have to do a press conference,” she gave you a pointed look. “It’s the truth. I’m okay with everyone knowing.” She nodded and hesitated to lay back down, but when you didn’t stop her. You ran your fingers through her blonde hair and watched the Black Widow melt against you. “I like the blonde,” you said. “But I do miss the red.” Natasha rested her chin on your chest and looked up at you.

“Tell me, you meant what you said before we left that room,” she said. “Do you love me?” You sighed.

“I tried to stop,” you said. “Drowned my feelings with booze, being the Polaris, and women that I didn’t care about,” her hand went to the side of your neck, a protective grip on it. “Nothing worked. Ever since that party, you’ve trapped me inside your web.” The Black Widow rolled her eyes at your spider pun.

“I’m sorry,” you knew it was hard for her to apologize. “You were right. I made a decision that wasn’t mine to make.”

“Tasha, I wasn’t living until I met you,” you whispered. “You gave me a reason to live.” It seemed natural as you both gravitated towards each other until your lips touched. Sighing into the kiss, you twisted your hand in her hair. No matter how many years together, kissing Natasha made your stomach flip. It was your favorite thing.

“Oh my fucking eyes,” you and Natasha jumped apart at the sound of Yelena’s voice. “I’m glad you are awake, but I did not need to see your tongue down my sister’s throat.”

“Suka,” Natasha mumbled and climbed out of the bed to sit back in the chair. You chuckled and took her hand in yours, not wanting to be away from her completely. When your parents were killed, you thought your life was over. Then you became the Polaris, and there was a reason for you to get out of bed each day. But being a vigilante lost its meaning. All of your hope was lost until you met Natasha. She was your missing peace, your true north, your reason to exist in this vast galaxy.

[formulafics]

★ MINI…ER LANDO: PT. 3 | LN4

Scenario: in which lando and his wife reveal her pregnancy to the world. in this part, baby norris is officially born!

Pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

A/N: this is technically the last part, but don’t fret, dad!lando will appear in future content! i love this little series so much and i hope you guys have enjoyed it too

PART ONE | PART TWO

requests are open for smau’s | check pinned for more info!

lando.jpg

liked by ynnorris, danielricciardo, charles_leclerc, alex_albon, and 162,542 others

lando.jpg home feels a lot homier with baby norris around.

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ynnorris who’s cutting onions and why are tears streaming down my face. i love my little family so much ☹️❤️

⤷ landonorris i love you mama

⤷ formulaleclerc LANDO CALLING YN MAMA 💔 i’m weeping

rizzciardo DID DANIEL AND CHARLES MEET HER? I HAVE TO KNOW

⤷ ynnorris not yet, but soon :)

norrisnation the second picture oh my god 😭 this is so precious

papayabull IM GONNA CRY

ynnorris

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ynnorris apologies for being gone for so long, but i have returned and i can’t believe it’s been 6 months already 😭 as you can see, baby norris - 1, lando - 0

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landonorris i cant wait to see you this weekend. i miss you and baby

⤷ ynnorris i miss you ☹️❤️ i’m sure baby misses you too

danielricciardo I MEET HER THIS WEEKEND

norrisnation i missed yns post so bad and didn’t even realize it

rizzciardo yn stays giving us lando content and i will forever love her for it

⤷ piastrisgirl literally. she’s been feeding us for years

ynnorris

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ynnorris it happened - baby norris faced danny ric. join us next week for baby norris vs charles leclerc!

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leclerclover i need charles and baby norris IMMEDIATELY

rizzciardo NOOO THE LAST SLIDE HURTS I LOVE DANIEL

danielricciardo baby norris is pretty swaggy if you ask me. all thanks to her mom, her dads a loser

⤷ landonorris okay daniel. you’re never seeing my child again

⤷ danielricciardo i meant to say thanks to her parents, my bad. her dad is definitely super cool and swag

norrisnation the second picture :( lando is so cute

⤷ ynnorris he is pretty cute isnt he?

⤷ formulasainzzzz YN RESPONDING OH MY GOD

supermaxmaxmax if this isn’t my future what’s the point?

formulaleclerc PLEASE GIVE US THE CHARLES AND BABY NORRIS CONTENT

⤷ ynnorris will do 🫡

[nebulaafterdark]

Dracarys (Part 3)

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: if you know, you know. Post Dance AU

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

18+ ONLY MDNI Targcest, knife!play, smut, angst

This night Y/N decides, she is going to kill Aegon. When his back is to her, when he is least expecting it, she pulls out her knife. Stalking up behind him, she counts to steady her breathing. On one, two-

Aegon whips around, his own dagger held between them.

All the air leaves her lungs as he grins at her.

“Do it,” he dares her. “Or I will.”

Her hand trembles. “How shall I do it?”

“A clean cut across my throat, that’s what I would do. Make it quick.”

“Do it then,” Y/N decides. “Do it, free us both.”

“Providing a way out which allows you to cling to your precious virtue is not nearly as stimulating. I want my blood on your hands. I want you to bathe in it, choke on it.”

Y/N keens as he backs her against the wall, now trapped beneath their blades.

“Is it not what you want?”

“At times.” She breathes.

“What do you want in the rest of the time?”

“You said yourself, you and I are fated to dance.”

His lips are on hers then, before either of them can do a thing to stop it. Drawn together by an invisible string, one neither of them are able to press down and sever.

Her blade nips Aegon’s skin and a low groan rumbles out from his chest. “Sorry,” she apologizes, realizing what she’s done. “I am sorry.”

He drags the tip of his dagger along the front of her gown, tearing it open. “This is where I ordered my guards to cut your mother, so Sunfyre would smell blood.”

Suddenly she doesn’t feel guilty for cutting him, wishing only that she’d done it deeper.

“Even my dragon did not want to harm her.”

“Mayhaps that was your sign from the gods.” Y/N challenges.

“The same gods which sent you to me? I care little for their signs anymore.”

Y/N moves her blade to her side.

“Ah, ah, ah, my dearest love.” He brings her knife back to his neck, “we must get it out of your system.”

“No,” she whimpers.

Aegon clicks his tongue at her. “I wasn’t asking. Either we end each other here or you stop fighting me.”

“I do not know how to stop.” It has been too long, years of betrayal between them.

His eyes search hers, she is telling the truth. “It would require forgiveness.”

“Could you forgive me? Well and truly, for all of it? Tell me now.”

“Say please.” Aegon licks his lips.

“Tell me now, please.” This is a mockery. A performance, a show, but she wants-

“I could, in time. After all, I have little choice. We can’t go on like this.”

Y/N burns, the awful part of her tethered to him, pulled taut. “Please, I want to touch you.”

Aegon grits his teeth. “You will never raise a blade to me again. Swear it.”

“I swear this to you, on the memory of my mother.”

Aegon bats her knife away, “touch me.”

Y/N buries her hands in his hair, kissing him in earnest. Licking into his mouth, along the backs of his teeth, dancing along his tongue.

Aegon nips at her lips, peeling her away from the wall to sit on the bed. The ruins of her tattered dress join his clothes. “Is this what you want?”

Y/N hesitates, before nodding.

A slow smile spreads across his lips, “why?”

“Because there is no point in denying myself the comfort of being one with you.” You are all I have.

Aegon traces the line of her jaw with his index finger. Trailing down her neck and sternum, past her belly, to her cunt; finding her dripping. Without a word, he lines up his cock, splitting her open.

She lurches toward him in surprise. Pressing against his chest, “fuck.”

“Hush now.” He takes her wrists, pinning them to the sheets, on either side of her head. Staring down at her hands, curled into fists; he is overcome by the urge to hold them. Slowly he unfurls her fingers, linking his own between them and squeezing.

Y/N squeezes back.

“Keep your eyes on me.” Aegon breathes, rocking against her.

She pries her lids open, perfect lips ajar, fighting for breath. Any time he called for her in his bed, her eyes were screwed shut.

“Terrifying, isn’t it? To desire something so badly, beyond all reason?” He moves faster, fucking her in earnest and not just to pass the time.

“Yes,” she breathes.

“Be mine,” he murmurs. “Be mine and the rest will sort. You will not be lonely, you needn’t be angry or afraid, you will be mine and nothing more.”

“And you would be mine, in return?”

“If that is what you want.”

Y/N feels the coil in her belly tighten, “that is what I want.”

Aegon reaches down to her pearl, rubbing in tight circles, until her breath hitches. “I love you still.” He rests his forehead against hers. “I do not want to, I have tried so desperately to stop.”

“Please.” Y/N shakes her head, a fresh batch of tears falling upon her cheek.

“You need only say it once.”

“I cannot.” Y/N sobs, “I will die if I say it.” From the guilt and the shame, from the bitter truth of it all.

“The words taste of fire and blood, but you will feel better once you’ve purged them.”

Y/N grapples with it, though in the end, she is as powerless as she’s ever been to stop it. “I love you.”

The world explodes around them, collapsing in on itself, as they both burn.

Reborn from the ashes.

[buckets-and-trees]

Red, White & True - Prologue

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers (future x curvy Millennial Female!Reader), Pepper Potts Word Count: 1.3k Summary: "There was an idea..." Words at the heart of what brought the Avengers together. Steve Rogers is no longer an Avenger, having retired after The Snap and passed his shield along to Sam Wilson, but Pepper Potts has a new idea to bring Steve back out of retirement - but in a totally different arena.

Content/Warnings: none

Notes: This takes place in a post-Endgame scenario where Steve stays and generally most of TFATWS happened.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

PROLOGUE

[MAY 1 - Upstate New York]

“You know I’m always happy to come out to the farm,” Steve says, rinsing the last plate and handing it to the strawberry blonde woman so she can dry and put it back on the shelf. “I love to see you and Morgan. But what do you want to talk to me about, Pepper?”

Pepper gives him a tight-lipped smile. “Let’s go to the study,” she answers, and leads the way to the back of the modern but rustic home. She takes a seat on the couch and motions for Steve to sit on the other end.

“I was sitting right here when Tony stood over there,” she nods her head toward a spot in front of Steve, “and told me he figured out the science of time travel.”

Steve’s chest aches at her words. “Pepper…”

She holds up a hand to stop him. “No, don’t apologize. I told him that was amazing and terrifying. Then we sat here together and really talked. He told me he could stop, put a pin in it, that part of him wanted to bury the idea in a lock box at the bottom of the lake. But I reminded him that we were lucky not to have lost each other in the Blip and so many others weren’t.”

She pauses for a moment and looks to the mantle where there’s a small, retired arc reactor on display. Steve waits for her to continue.

“When I started working for him, I had no idea where it would all lead. I certainly didn’t have aspirations to date my boss or become the CEO of Stark Industries. Tony will always be the love of my life, and each day that goes by, each month, each year, I miss him, but the missing hurts less. What’s left is the whisper, the urge of the legacy of everything that’s still here and what I can do with it. I haven’t been idle, but I’ve been trying to ignore my own time travel issue, if you will.”

Steve can hardly hold himself back from scoffing. “The medical research, the humanitarian initiatives, the scientific advances you’re still spearheading, it’s just not really enough if you can’t solve for world peace,” he jokes.

Pepper cocks her head slightly. “The thing is, I have an idea of where I could start on that last one.”

Steve’s eyebrows knit together, and he studies her face. “Okay…” he knew his voice was conveying his curiosity but also his trepidation.

“Stark Industries helps a lot of people, but there are things I can’t help no matter how hard I try there. The world is in a bigger mess than science can help, only so much can be done with humanitarian work, and there’s an area that’s haunting me because I’ve tried to stay out of it for as long as I could, and I just don’t think I can any more, not and still sleep at night.”

“Well, then let’s talk about it. You know I’m here for you, whatever you need. I don’t know how you think I can help, but clearly you’ve got an idea.”

“I know you retired one suit, but I’d like you to think about another.”

“Pep-”

“Not that kind of suit,” she interrupts. “There are still some good, decent people in politics, but money has poisoned so much of what goes on - lobbyists, special interests, politicians needing to fundraise. But I’ve got money. I could fund a campaign.”

Steve frowns. “What exactly are you proposing?”

“I need a candidate, and there’s no one I would trust more than you. I want to finance your campaign to run for President of the United States.”

Steve's eyes widen, and he feels as if the air has been sucked out of the room. His mouth opens and closes, but he can’t think of any initial words to come out. He stands abruptly, his legs carrying him to the large window overlooking the serene lake outside. The late afternoon sun casts a golden glow across the water, creating a stark contrast to the turmoil in his mind.

"President?" he finally manages to croak out, his voice barely above a whisper. He turns back to face Pepper, his brow furrowed deeply. "Pepper, I... I don't know the first thing about running a country. I've been a soldier, an Avenger, but never a politician."

Pepper leans forward, her eyes bright with determination. "That's exactly why you'd be perfect, Steve. You're not entrenched in the political machine. You have a moral compass that's unwavering, and a desire to help those who need it, no matter what.”

“And sometimes I failed.”

“It made you wiser every time.”

Steve plants his hands on his hips and sighs. “Pep, I’m just a kid from Brooklyn who wanted to serve his country.”

Pepper leans forward, her eyes intense and earnest. "And you've done that, Steve. You've served this country in ways most people can't even imagine. Think about what you could do as President. The impact you could have, the changes you could make. You've always fought for what's right, even when it wasn't easy or popular. That's exactly what this country needs right now."

Steve turns back to the window, his mind racing. He thinks of all the battles he's fought, the sacrifices he's made. Could he really make a difference from the Oval Office? Or would the political machine chew him up and spit him out?

"What about my past?" he asks, still facing the lake. "The Accords, going rogue, all of it. It would all come out in a campaign."

He hears Pepper stand and approach him. She places a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Your past is part of what makes you the right person for this, Steve. You've shown that you're willing to stand up for what you believe in, even when it costs you everything.”

He can feel Pepper's eyes on him, waiting for a response. He takes a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts.

"I appreciate your faith in me, Pepper. I really do," he begins, still facing the lake. "But this isn't like leading a team into battle. The complexities of running a country, the constant scrutiny, the compromises you have to make... I'm not sure I'm cut out for that."

"Steve, that's exactly why you'd be perfect for this. You understand the weight of responsibility. You've made tough decisions under pressure. And most importantly, you have a clear vision of what's right and what's wrong."

Steve turns to face her, his expression conflicted.

“I won’t lie to you,” she continues, “the public scrutiny will be worse, but it’s not something you’re unfamiliar with. Just like before, you’ll have people singing your praise and people ready to crucify you just for sport. But we’ll face it head-on. You won’t do any of it alone. We’ll put together a team of friends, people we trust, experts and strategists. We’ll find people outside our camp who will challenge us to make the campaign stronger. And when we get you in the White House, no president leads alone. You have a history of seeing the value in the people around you and bringing teams together. It’ll just be fighting a different fight.”

Steve thinks over her words. “In a different suit.”

She smiles. “You’ll do it?”

“Answer one more question for me.”

Pepper nods. “Anything.”

“Why do this?”

Steve sees the conviction settle in her entire demeanor, and that shift alone convinces him the rest of the way, but her words cement his resolve down to his core.

“Tony and Natasha didn’t sacrifice just to leave something broken behind. It’s time to help put things back together and try to leave a legacy of something better.”

go to chapter one: MANHATTAN & BROOKLYN

This is an idea that sparked in during the huge sleepover I hosted in July 2023, and it's been tantalizing me for a long time, but now the muse is finally ready to play with it! gee, I wonder why...

I can't wait to bring you along for the ride! This story will have 3-4 chapters, depending on where I split up the narrative. I anticipate about a chapter a week.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[dontbesoweirdkira]

Yandere Raiden x reader x Yandere Fujin? Or feed my delusional mind with just Yandere mk men x reader- with that harem “no she’s mine! Not yours!”

“Alright, men please listen up. Y/N can only choose one of us..which means you all will have to die.”

A/N: I love a delusional queen from infinity to infinityyyyyy. MHMM OFC!!! Anything for my delusional friends…I didn’t have Raiden in this one because I’m going to give you some good stuff in a separate post. I have Raiden and Fujin fighting for you in that. Plus a bonus;) this has been my favorite request so far.

Warnings: Johnny cage💀, Yandere/Toxic Themes, mentions of stalking, harassment, violence, a bit suggestive???

Requests: open 24/7

Masterlist

Let’s be real, the mk men are perpetually thirsty. Actually all the characters are to be honest. Did you hear the flirty dialogue?? Even the keeper is trying to get some of that action.

So really it’s no shocker that you, the new fighter, have all the attention from them.

Johnny is undoubtedly the first to strike. He may be an older man now but damn, you make him feel like he’s 20 again. He just cannot control making some kind of flirtatious comment when he sees you walk by.

“Woah, woah, woah, now sweetheart. I think you and I should have a nice long conversation. Get to know each other a little…or a lot…dealers choice.” ;)

Yeahh he doesn’t care that he has a kid and a mortgage. Cassie is grown now and Sonya doesn’t want him anymore…so free game, baby.

His eyes are hungry and he barely can hold himself back from pouncing on you—

Liu Kang and Kung Lao see this and apologize for his behavior towards you. They introduced themselves and of course did their absolute best to make you feel at home.

Don’t let this fool you though, those are some sinful monks. They are no better than Johnny and they want you real baaaad.

“So, Y/N. What is your skill set? Wait. Let me guess, you use beauty essence to trap your opponent in a daze before knocking them out?”

Liu Kang jabs Kung Lao in the stomach with his elbow, before speaking to you.

“I’m sorry for these two. You are very beautiful but please know we are just as excited to train with you as we would anyone else. Anytime you’d like to spar, please, don’t hesitate to find me.”

Ahh he’s so damn slick…he just wants a reason to pin you downnnn

“Hey! Liu Kang don’t you mean us? We all would like to train with you darling~. Some people like to fight over in the courtyard but if you’d like I have a very special place called, me casa.”

“I would also like to train with you…in the courtyard of course. I mean unless you prefer—“

“Thanks? Umm..I appreciate all of your….offers. I’m supposed to actually meet with Raiden, I’m just a little lost. Have you guys—-“

Before you could even finish your sentence all three of them bombarded you with offers and began fighting over each other, debating who actually knows how to find Lord Raiden the best.

“Uhh—“

That pretty much sets the tone for how everyone acts around you.

By a month or so into you being here, everyone knows about you. Especially the men. You’re all they talk about.

At first it was simply chatter about you being a new kombatant for earthrealm and of course mentions of your beauty.

But since learning more about and becoming closer with you, the little infatuations have turned into full blown obsessions.

No one can seem to get enough of you, even the grand masters have trouble focusing when you’re around. Hanzo and Kai Liang may disagree on many things but you are one of the few things they can get behind.

They are both trying to recruit you to their different clans so they can be fully entitled to you.

Scorpion wants extreme control over you, he wants to shape you into the perfect companion. He wants you to be just as poised as his wife once was. You already have her beauty so just let him perfect you.

Sub-Zero wants you to become his equal. What he failed to do with Frost, he will make up with you. How more beautiful you’d become if only your heart was frozen over.

Either one will stop at nothing to have you. A trophy they could boast over. For a second you ended a centuries-long feud, both agreeing on your excellence…only for it to start all over again for who is more worthy to own you.

This isn’t isolated to just them, all the men are fighting for your attention. Arguing about who you actually belong to, bragging about how much attention they got from you, and comparing it to each other. Don’t get me started on that. Mk men are so needy for your attention. Whenever they can’t get it, they resort to other ways.

Johnny is such a filthy pervert. You don’t wanna give him the time of day? Fine, he’ll take matters into his own hands.

He’s your very own paparazzi, you should be grateful that he’s taking this many pictures of you. You’re the first and only.

It doesn’t matter that he’s doing it without your consent or knowledge…. He’ll jump into the flesh pits if that meant getting the perfect shot of you…let him have this.

He refuses to share these with the other guys, it’s just for him. Over his dead body will Kano or someone else see you like this.

Shang Tsung has also caught wind of you and you’re a pretty sight indeed. He doesn’t want you to fight in the tournament. A gorgeous soul like you should be locked away in his throne room. He always tries to bribe you with fortune and power. He can offer you so much more than these rodents. If you need an extra push in his direction, a little trickery may help with that….he has no shame using an incantation on you.

Liu Kang and Kung Lao are no better. They manipulate that fact you see them as good friends as a way to be in the limelight.

They stalk you just as much as the rest, sometimes separately but often times together. It always ends up in a fight between the two tho because one person starts shit talking…

“Idk Kang. A woman like that would never be into you. Kitana barely even looks your way…what makes you think Y/N will? Besides, she called me cute.”

“Yeah, I think she’ll think it’s real ‘cute’ how I destroy you in the tournament..”

Perverted as Cage. Kung Lao is extremely touchy while sparring. He loves to “teach” you things. He never shines away from a moment to flex all of his years of training under the shaolin and that he’s a self proclaimed expert.

For some reason when he’s fixing your form, his hand always winds up a little too far up…hmm strange.

Liu Kang loves when you watch him workout or spar with others. When it’s finally your turn to be his opponent, he never holds back.

You cannot catch a break. Gifts and proposals are constantly sent to your door and no matter how much you try to decline, it just won’t stop coming. Sure being basically waited on, and desired by many is really nice. Every girls dream! But you have to admit just how it is scary having such dangerous men obsessed with you.

There hasn’t been a moment in the last few months where you’ve ever felt completely alone. The feeling that someone is always watching you has never left.

And, occasionally you would awkwardly overhear or walk in on a group of men fighting about you.

“With all due disrespect, I believe a babe like that would prefer a star like me. She’s all mine”

“Nonsense. Y/N belongs to the Shirai Ryu. Both her beauty and skill makes her a viable asset to the clan. You can fight me in hell over it, Cage.”

It doesn’t get any better when the tournament starts.

I think the men forgot they were fighting for their realms because it quickly turned into a fight for dominance.

A tournament that was once a noble cause, turned into a bloody showcase. Every man dedicating their wins to you, making sure to send a cheeky flex or wink your way.

Besides, what value did their realms hold if you weren’t there with them.

[vxnuslogy]

— to you, who finally saw the sun.

pairing: sunday x gn!reader

premise: to you, who finally saw the sun, i bid you one final farewell.

— warnings: angst (kinda, i also dont know), bittersweet goodbyes, they do kiss yippie, written before the 2.7 update.

— author’s notes: in honor of getting e1s1 sunday, have this actual final stellaronhunter!sunday fic. art credits to 隐世樱yyy on weibo. also, fun little easter egg, colored texts are a reference to previous stellaronhunter!sunday fics i've made, so yeah!! maximum emotional damage!!!!!| ~2.8k words.

— tags: @ryescapades @mitsvriii @https-sourlimes @dazaisms @st6rly @pneumosia @tetrachrxmacy ; if you'd like to be tagged, please fill out the forms on my pinned or post or send me an ask off anon!!

how long has it been since sunday played the piano?

he can’t quite remember the last time he pressed a finger to the delicate white notes and let its noise resound in the room. but he does recount the harsh judgemental stare his instructure had whenever he made a mistake—a note lingering too long and going off course, it always led to the snap of a ruler to his wrist.

“do you play?” a voice from behind asked.

sunday turned around to capture the stars in your eyes. when he met your gaze halfway, a gentle smile grazed his lips before his golden eyes skidded to the instrument once more. “yes, i do. though i have not played in years.”

he heard the click of your shoes as you approached. sunday took a peek from the corner of his eyes as you longingly stared at the grand piano in front of you both. your gloved hands gliding over the polished wood before you eventually sat down by the small stool. you turn your head to him, hair fluttering with the wind as he feels the remaining breath in his lungs be taken away because of your smile. you patted down the space beside you and sunday reluctantly took it.

“will you play me a song?” your request was nothing but a small plea, one exhale away from crumbling. sunday didn’t know about that—he never will. you mask the desperation in your voice when the first note rang and sunday looked at you with a smile.

“i apologize if it sounds rusty,” he looked bashful and bare in this light. drapes of white clouds, dark blue galaxies, and golden suns hang from his body and you couldn’t help but stare. the wings behind his ears flutter in embarrassment with your silence so you laugh—forced, melancholic, and unlike you. 

“i’ll love anything you play, sunday.” and you weren’t lying.

when the following notes soon echoed in the empty music room that was once reserved for only kafka, you let your desire to be close to him consume your entire being. sunday flinched slightly when your head fell on his shoulder, but didn’t shrug you off. with a flustered clear of his throat he continued.

sunday played the piano like it would be his last performance—forever caging himself to the audience after this performance to never take the stage again. he felt your emotions like they were tangible items courtesy to the halo behind his head, because the following song, he briefly muttered “for you” under his breath.

you both relished the moment spent by each other’s side. 

to sunday, this song was dedicated to the person who dragged him onto the stage once more. despite all his reluctance, difficult attitude, and past grudges, he will always bathe you in a golden light like the followers of xipe. singing choirs about your greatness till the end of time as he remained as your faithful follower. this was his thank you to you, and he felt it would never quite repay the kindness you’ve given him.

but to you, this was goodbye. each note, though filled with tender affection and cherished dreams, pinched at your heart like tiny pins and needles. you looked up to gaze at his face—calm, moved on from the past, and freed. though not fully, his contract with jade still remains, he was as free as the express travelling the cosmos. 

this was goodbye.

“will you play a song for me too, sunny?” a voice from the entrance joked.

there stood kafka, in her usual attire but without the coat, leaning by the door frame with arms crossed over her chest. you chuckled as sunday hid his embarrassed and flushed face, finding an excuse to say “no.” because everyone knew—order or finality—that sunday will only play for you.

“nothing to worry about angel,” kafka seemed solemn as she cleared her throat. she motioned for both of you to get up and follow her. “new mission is here. be sure to do your best, m’kay?”

sunday furrowed his brows as his wings twitched in confusion. kafka only took a few steps forward before leaving you two alone once more. you shook your head as you took his gloved hand in yours and tugged him in the direction of his new home. even though it's been a while since he joined, sunday still never voiced his worries—a habit you hope will slowly die out once he arrives at the boarding station.

“where are we going this time?” he asked. now he only realized your new attire and he feels his eyes wander. a black undershirt and pants, layered with a white asymmetrical coat. the gold cuffs of your sleeves caught the moonlight and casted a faint glow of your tears. sunday doesn’t get the chance to say something when a body crashed onto his back.

“good luck, mister,” silver wolf buried her face onto his back. arms tightly wrapped around his waist. if you looked closely, you would notice the way she slowly started stepping back—trying to prevent sunday from going out the doors he once entered from.

but sunday only chuckled. he turned to face the girl, patted her head and squatted down to her height as he slowly tried to pry the arms hiding her tear stained face. “it’s going to be alright, i have [name] with me, remember? they’re elio’s favorite, remember?”

the girl gripped the sleeves of his coat with an iron grip. sunday frowned in sadness, he hated seeing the girl so upset over a mission. and all you did was stand there, motionless as the clock by your waist continued to tick.

“sunday.” you call and you don’t know what shattered you the most: silver wolf’s fresh tears, or how sunday cradled and shielded her from your harsh reality.

silver wolf eventually peeled herself away. with a harsh motion, she wiped away all her tears and returned to her quirky self, “you better beat the final boss! if you don’t, then don’t bother to show yourself to me ever again!”

sunday nodded and once he reached your side, he waved the silver haired girl goodbye and fell into the same steps as you. each turn, each stairway taken to reach the skies, it drowns your lungs in realization. and like the time when you were both drenched in the rain, the ticket in your back pocket suddenly felt heavier than it should.

“leaving without as much as a word?” 

you both stopped in your tracks and turned around. the hallway was dimmed, your only witness being the moon in its full glory. sunday was the first to break the delicate silence with a soft utter of ignorance, something you never realized could happen.

“a mission that requires both of us,” he replied, a sketchy smile on his lips as he slowly shielded your vision of the immortal man from view. “we won’t take long. it won’t end like it did back in the capital of passion. i promise.”

you felt blade’s judgeful stare before he let out a heavy sigh. he threw a small journal bound by beds of stars onto his hands and handed you a sheathed sword. “i expect you to be back before dawn.”

sunday nodded and you don’t have the heart to tell him that blade wasn’t speaking to nor about him. 

“sunday wait!”

right when you were about to board your car—a testimony to your genius in engineering, sunday still wondered how you got it to work like the express. firefly ran out the door with nothing but her sleep attire. she clutched a small item to her chest as sunday looked at you. you hated the look of expectation in his irises, but you still relent. with a heavy sigh, you muttered, ‘5 minutes’ before you entered the car. sunday nodded like an obedient servant and met firefly halfway.

“i–!” she tried to find the words to say, but they always fell short by the time a sound escaped her lips. but sunday was understanding, he was kind, so he waited. like a dutiful older brother letting his baby sister come out of her shell.

beats of silence passed before firefly settled on a simple goodbye, “please take care on your mission.” she took his hand and handed him a small pen. his name delicately engraved on the fountain pen’s cap in her handwriting. 

the wind howled and she shivered. and like a moment right before a mission started and ended, sunday took off the white hood over his shoulders and draped it over her. “thank you, firefly. i’ll be sure to put it to good use.”

sunday wished firefly told him the rest of her thoughts, but he saved them for another time he will never have. even as he buckled the seatbelt in your car and drove off, firefly tried to chase after you. and if he looked close enough, soft glimmers of hopeful tears would be seen.

“you never answered my question.”

you looked at him from the rearview mirror. the way he carefully placed the fountain pen in the journal and the way he softly grazed the cover—afraid that the small book would shatter under his fingertips.

“it must have slipped my mind. what was your question again?”

“where are we going?”

you wet your lips and tighten the hold on the steering wheel. you don’t answer immediately. instead, you let your vehicle warp through space like a nameless traveler through the stars. when you start unbuckling your seatbelt, sunday follows shortly and you both get out.

“penacony.”

sunday feels his vision blur and merge into one giant puddle. he feels you drape another hood identical to the one he gave firefly as you harshly tugged it over his head. your hand finding its way to his and tug him towards a familiar direction.

“h-hold on!” he cries out in a desperate plea, but you don’t turn around. “what business could we have in penacony?! and,” sunday’s eyes wander again over your figure and feels dread start to bubble in his stomach—you weren’t wearing a disguise like you did in past missions.

you don’t answer and sunday feels his wings hug his abdomen tighter and tighter. he can already imagine the ghostly hands of the family—even under robin’s guidance—do unspeakable things to you. sunday can’t have that, he will never allow you to be caged in their clutches like they did with him. so with all the force he could muster, all the while being mindful of your comfort, he caught your wrist in a firm hold and turned around. tugging you in the direction of your home.

“sunday.”

“apologies, but i promised blade. bare with me for a moment longer.”

“sunday.”

“[name], please.”

“sunday.”

“cease the uttering of my name! do you not understand the position we are in right now?!”

sunday never shouts—not in anger, but in worry. he takes gulfs of air into his lungs as if he’s being dragged to the bottom of the ocean as he looks at you with blown eyes. his wings flapping erratically, fanning the reddening of his face as the pair by his waist briefly flutters. if you close your eyes and listen carefully, you can hear the soft clinks of the golden exoskeleton you created just for him.

“sunday,”

“i believe this is where your journey ends, mister sunday.”

“our story is over.”

you feel the world still as small orbs of danger surround you both. a man with whiting hair stands behind him, a cane glowing in pink as you feel your body grow heavier and heavier. welt pushes his glasses up and lets his eyes fall to you.

“[name].” he says in a tense tone. the grip on his cane so tight you’d argue beneath the gloves he wore, his knuckles were turning white in confusion.

“mr. yang.” you reply back, calmer than the loud beating inside the column of bones inside your chest. “please let him go.”

the older gentleman debated in his mind. before sunday could raise a hand, you step forward and force him to face you. you feel your body go back to normal and you sigh. sunday on the other hand, remains on guard as the golden eyes you grew fond off stared at you with emotions that could only be named as betrayal.

“the express misses you, [name].” welt says, “it won’t hurt to say goodbye to them.”

you only nod bitterly. “thank you, mr. yang. but there’s really no need.”

“what do you mean our story is over?” you hear sunday murmur.

you take a shaky deep breath, of all the ways he could ask, why did he do it as if he was about to cry? you shut your eyes tightly, you let your desires consume you again as you interlace your hands together in one final hold before you relax and exhale. when you open your eyes, you feel tears drop one by one like idrila’s blood. welt stays motionless behind him, looking at you both in confliction.

“welt,” you lower both your hands, stepping in front of the angel. “i know this isn’t the reunion you had hoped for. but please believe me when i say that we come in peace. i’ve come to return what is lost.”

welt’s frown deepens, “i take it you aren’t talking about yourself.”

“no, and i never will.” you feel sunday’s arm snake around your waist and his head fall on your shoulder. and suddenly, it felt like your shopping trip with the rest of the hunters was today.

“please wait for us by the golden hour.”

“no…” sunday weakly protests. “i can’t leave, i won’t allow myself.”

“welt. please.”

“mr. yang, please don’t.”

“welt–”

“i’ll wait.” the older man says in a rushed tone. he was quick to turn around and start walking away. it was unlike him, but you don’t blame him. after all, the missing child of the express was now found and the previous head of the oak family were together—with conflicting convictions to top it.

his steps grew fainter and fainter until all you could feel was sunday’s tears and his quiet whimpers, begging you to not let him go.

“sunday,” you mutter, slowly facing him. “our story is over. you need to go.”

“what about you… will you stay behind?”

“i have to.”

“no you don’t!” his volume rises as his arms tighten around your waist. “you can come with me. they’ve been looking for you, they’ll accept you! so please, don’t make me lose you, too.”

you chuckle, and for the first time tonight, you smile genuinely. “silly bird, you’re not going to lose me.”

“but i already have…”

you frown. you try to pull away from his embrace but he still keeps you caged in his arms. “sunday, will you play me a song?”

“enough, please.”

you pat down his hair, pull away just an inch, and cradle his face. “sing me a song about adventures and stars. can you do that?”

“will you come with me if i do?”

you shake your head no and he dives his face into the crook of your neck again. you laugh in disbelief at his stubbornness. it reminds you of the time he first started to try and take flight. how long ago was that memory? you can’t quite put a number on it but it no longer matters.

“sunday,” you sing his name like a song to be remembered. reaching into your back pocket, you take out a golden ticket and gently lay it flat on sunday’s palm. when you meet his eyes again, his wings obscure half of his face. you gently push them away and rub away the tears staining his cheeks and press your foreheads together. “perform. not for me, but the world. your stage is set, all you need to do is step on it.”

his gloved hands hold yours, you feel his head turn for his lips to meet the palm of your hand as presses a soft kiss that leaves the spot tingling. “will you watch me play?”

you drag a knuckle down his nose, an action too affectionate for people who claim to be just “comrades.” suddenly it dawns on you that kafka’s teasing, firefly’s giggles, silver wolf’s eye rolling, blade’s huffs and elio’s script all align for this moment. with a careful step forward, you invade the line with the words “comrades” and look up. you feel his breath on your lips and you smile.

“for all eternity, my eyes will always be yours.” you stand on your toes and press your lips together in a final goodbye. his arms hug your waist just a tad bit tensely as sunday tries his reciprocate—but in the back of your mind, you know he doesn’t have to try. sunday loves you like it's as easy as breathing.

“sunday, congratulations. you’ve finally seen the sun.”

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

[ddodol]

action — s.es

series ⭑.ᐟ [ kinktober masterlist ] content warning ⭑.ᐟ smut! minors dni!, rookie actor!eunseok, actress fem!reader, pet names, eunseok is shy?, oral (m.), eunseok head pusher agenda, dacryphilia, eunseok is also kinda mean. word count⭑.ᐟ 1.6k+

a/n; accidentally posted the draft earlier while i was on my phone </3 i thought it was gone for good adfdaks. anyway :3 merry christmas yall <3

eunseok was a fairly new actor, rising to fame for his unreal features and the innate ability to make a person’s heart go wild.

despite all of that, the proud song eunseok had but one weakness— intimate scenes.

you were casted as a lead actor alongside eunseok, a monumental achievement in your acting career that you don’t plan on taking for granted. you were slightly older than eunseok, more experienced. he was fully aware of that as well, ears turning bright red whenever he had to ask you for pointers whenever it came to scenes that required physical contact.

even after months of filming, eunseok couldn’t break out of his shy demeanor, whether it was with the staff or with you, his co-lead. though, he was professional enough to not let it affect the filming progress— until today, that is.

the director proposed for a break, having messed up one scene countless of times. feeling guilty, the rookie actor was bowing and apologizing to the staff for the delays he was starting to cause. he was lucky to be working with such an easygoing crew, otherwise he'd be getting reprimanded for his unprofessionalism.

nonetheless, eunseok tried his best in everything, and you knew that he'd come looking for you in a matter of minutes after looking over the scenes for tonight.

you met his eyes from afar, exchanging a knowing look. you had no idea how it happened, considering how you were only a few months his acting senior, but he always came to you for help. eunseok walked past the staff, long legs striding, approaching you with flushed cheeks.

how adorable, you thought.

”do you want to try it somewhere more private?” your simple question made him blush once more, making you giggle a little. he gave you a small nod, which you smiled at. “follow me.”

you led the way, the sound of his footsteps filling up the hallway as a reminder that he was just right behind you.

as soon as the door to your dressing room closed, eunseok grabbed your arm and pinned you against the door, taking you by surprise. he was even more breathtaking up close, taken aback by the sudden change in his demeanor.

you could hear him swallow audibly, lips parted open as he took a deep, shaky breath. “was that okay?” eunseok asked meekly, eyes turning glossy and his cheeks beginning to flush, a huge contrast to how he was acting seconds earlier. that was when it hit you— he was trying out a scene from the drama. you bit your bottom lip, fighting back a giggle.

you teasingly snaked your arms around him, testing his reaction. sure enough, he turned even redder, almost about to explode as his brain processed what was happening.

”is this okay, too?” you whispered, staring up at him. taking it a step further, you slowly ran your hands through his chest, feeling his breath hitch. you chuckled, amused by his reaction.

”you don’t seem to have any trouble with that,” you stared at him, trying to gauge his reaction. you noticed the way he was shifting around uncomfortably, now avoiding your gaze. you looked down instinctively, eyes going wide at the surprise he had for you.

”oh, wow.”

eunseok cleared his throat, shyly glancing at you. “fuck— i’m sorry, it’s been like that since earlier.”

you raised a brow, eyes flickering up and down. “you mean, you’ve been rock hard ever since our characters were talking about their break-up?” you asked, in disbelief.

”no, no, no!” he sighed, hanging his head out of embarrassment, bright red ears in full display. despite working together for a month, this was the first time you’ve seen him this vulnerable. “you’re a pretty crier,” eunseok mumbled.

oh, that explains a lot.

your couple scenes so far all included some dramatic dialogue, and that meant you were crying most of the time. eunseok always seemed so invested during those scenes, holding you more tenderly and speaking in a way that felt intimate— the exact vibe your director has been trying to fish out of him.

you held back a smile, hooking a finger under his chin to make him look at you. eunseok let out a shuddering breath, eyes fixated on the way your lips curved up. he didn’t care how stupid he looked right now, eunseok was sure that anyone would act the same way if you were doing the same thing to them.

he swallowed thickly, parted lips slowly closing in on yours. you pressed your palm on his mouth before he could kiss you, prompting him to look at you in confusion.

"never said you could have a taste," you mumbled, a small smirk forming on your lips. eunseok was feeling desperate— he did have a massive boner rubbing against your thigh after all.

"please." you chuckled at his desperation, watching him take your ring finger in between his teeth, nibbling on it gently. "i'll get my act together after this, i swear. i just want to see those pretty lips around my cock," eunseok groans, brows furrowing as his lips moved against your fingers, as if he was kissing them instead.

you sighed softly, eyes darting down at his erect length. you reached down to palm him through his pants, making eunseok moan sensitively. eunseok's cock throbbed against your hand, breath hitching in your throat as you felt a flood of warmth surging through your body.

you felt turned on from his soft sighs, intoxicated with the way his pretty face would twist whenever you focused on his tip. you bit your lip, "fuck it."

eunseok watched as you tied your hair up, freezing in surprise when you got on your knees without any hesitation. he swallowed thickly, eyes trained on every single movement you made. he murmured soft curses when you helped him free his erect length, cock standing tall and casting a shadow over your features.

it was your turn to swallow nervously, taking in every single curve and vein of his cock. eunseok's cock was pretty, the tip of his cock already red and leaking. you glanced at him, licking a small strip up his shaft to start.

eunseok shuddered in response, clenching his jaw as he tangled his hand through the messy hairdo you just did. he panted softly, almost willing you to take him in your mouth, desperate to know how you'd feel.

your face contorted, comfortably taking in his tip. eunseok's cock wasn't thick save for his tip, letting you relax your jaw as you took in more of his length. by the time you reached what you assumed was half of him, you could already feel his tip poking at the gummy part of the roof of your mouth, making you gag slightly.

his eyes visibly sparkled when he felt you gagging on his cock, tempted to act on his impulses. he let you bob your head shallowly, trying to get used to his length. eunseok discreetly flexed his hips forward whenever you'd move down on his cock, wanting to see you gagging on his cock, to see you crying as you take him in your warm mouth.

eunseok cupped your cheek with one hand, his other still tangled through your scalp. "i know you can take more," his deep voice rang in your ears, body tingling as you glanced up at him. eunseok's eyes were dark, panting softly as he stared down at you.

it was almost like you couldn't find the same bashful rookie actor you were just teasing a few moments ago— now you were at his mercy.

without warning, eunseok pushed your head down on his length, the tip of his cock reaching the back of your throat. you gagged, closing your eyes shut as tears began to sting your eyes.

eunseok licked his lips, jerking his hips forward as he moved your head for you. he could tell you were overwhelmed, your whines vibrating against his throbbing length.

"fuck," he whispered, watching as a tear rolled down your cheek. your eyes fluttered open, brows furrowed as you stared up at him. eunseok could feel shivers down his spine, adoring the way you looked helpless with his cock filling your mouth.

eunseok could tell that you've surrendered to him, letting him move you as he pleased. his soft moans began to fill the empty room, thighs starting to tense up. he was close.

you let out small, broken moans of your own, gripping on his legs as he pushed you down on his cock, thrusting deep. you could feel your throat bruising, tears spilling from your eyes at the slight pain.

"baby, hold my hand if you don't want me to cum inside your pretty mouth." you stared up at him through your bleary vision, finding his cheeks fully flushed. you had no intentions of stopping him from what he wants, mostly because you were craving for it as well.

eunseok's breath hitched in his throat when he met your eyes, "fuck, fuck— what a good fucking girl." you felt shivers down your spine at his gruff praises.

his hips began to stutter, bucking into your face, balls slapping your chin with each movement. he let out a deep groan, head thrown back as he pressed your head down to the base of his cock. you gagged, unable to contain your coughs when you felt him shooting his cum in your throat.

you pulled away as soon as his grip on your head loosened, coughing violently. you wiped away traces of his cum on the edge on your mouth, as well as the mix of liquids that found its way through your nose.

eunseok panted, placing his hand against the door to support himself up, legs trembling miserably from his orgasm. his eyes flickered, reaching down to help clean your face.

once you were decent, eunseok helped you get up. he chuckled softly, holding your cheek. "you know, every time we get on scene and you cry— this is all i'd ever think about now."

you laughed weakly, voice still a bit hoarse. "guess that means i need to keep helping you out, then."

[utahlive]

Announcement

Hello UtahLIVE viewers, I have come before you today to talk a bit about recent events and how they will impact the future of this blog. Apologies this note is a bit long, but I would really appreciate it if you took some time to read this.

As I'm sure many of you know, within the past month Wilbur Soot/William Gold has been outed as an abuser. I want to make it clear right now that I no longer support him, nor do I accept his apology (mainly because it's not mine to accept in the first place). I stand with and believe Shelby and Alice 100%. This goes for any other victims that have or will come forward that I am unaware of, since I've been trying my best to stay offline. This aint about me!! But it's still hard when someone you look up to and who inspired you to create art turns out to be a shitbag. If you were somehow unaware of this, please go watch Shelby/Shubble's stream (VOD + transcript) and read Alice's post (and mind the CW/TWs) for more information.

This blog has brought me a lot of grief because of all of this. I do not want to support or perpetuate this man's image, but at the same time, I don't want to discontinue a story that I've put so much time and effort into. After a lot of deliberation, I've decided that I am going to continue this story until the end. I will also be adding a disclaimer in the pinned post, and I will no longer be tagging any of my posts from here on out with #wilbur soot or any adjacent tags. I don't think it's fair to myself or to anyone else who has enjoyed this blog to waste all the hard work that I have put in, because ultimately this is my project and my story, not his. If you disagree with this, I totally get it, but I ask you to just unfollow and/or block rather than sending me any hate because I promise you that whatever you say about me "supporting" Wilbur Soot by continuing this blog is something I've already considered myself. He is not (active) on Tumblr, he did not receive any of the money I got from stickers, I doubt anyone is looking at this blog and thinking "wow this Wilbur guy seems cool, let me go listen to his music and watch his vods".

Despite this decision, I'll probably still be taking a bit of time to myself to think about things and focus on school. Updates will likely resume in late March or early April.

I hope you can all respect my stance on this, and I want to reiterate how much I appreciate you all for supporting my work. Love you guys <3

[ronearoundblindly]

Some Steve for you to enjoy 🥰🫶🏻

Gurl, this f***ed me up! I wanted to try to make it a snippet of Item 107 or The Cinder King, but the muses were just like "you know what you need? emotional damage." So now here we have my first semi-legit period piece (which has zero useful era detail eh) and truly is just the carrier for skinny!Steve love. Hint: It's thirsty, smutty love with hardly any plot ANGST.

Hello and welcome to Lexi's most self-indulgent fic ever. It's got everything: crippling insecurities about my real-life stuff, horniness unmatched even if there were sex pollen shot directly into their faces, and everyone is touch-starved. \o/ Enjoy! WC probably close to 3k but idk because I'm too afraid to look back at it. *slams post button*

Turned away again, Steve "4F" Rogers steps out of the recruitment center to see you standing there, staring up at the posters promising glory.

People hustle around you, several even knocking into you, but you remain transfixed, invisible. You're clutching your purse like a lifeline.

Down one step, worn-through shoes barely hiding every seam in the cobblestone, Steve has to get closer because that's the direction of home and a lonely, empty apartment he can hardly afford. He has to pass by. He has to, but then he sees the amber light reflect on trails of tears down your cheeks.

He has to stop.

"Miss?" Steve clears his throat, his own arm smacked by a rowdy man who then swats at your ass just as Steve tries to get your attention again.

You jolt and turn to him in surprise, hand flying up to cover a sob, sweeping to wipe the evidence of emotion from your face.

Fast--faster than Steve really processes--he's shouting for the guy to apologize before the guy makes to advance, Steve presses himself between you and the asshole still laughing at disrespecting you, and then he--Steve--is getting shoved into the alley with you still at his back.

It's dusk. The alley is nearly black. Steve can hear you crying but he's slipped on the stones wet from an afternoon rain. He scrambles to right himself.

Amidst the cries, he hears grunts of anger and resistance, terror creeping into his chest as Steve thinks you're being assaulted.

"Piece of shit," you bite out. The silhouette of you hurling your bag at the man's face repeatedly is clear from where Steve crouches, backlit as you are by the movie theater marquee.

Then the guy is down on the ground, too, being stomped on by your two-inch heel. "Piece of fucking shit."

"Woah," Steve jumps forward to hold you back. "Woah, language, ma'am. Let's go. Just leave him."

He has a weak arm around your waist, but you kick at the man one more time for good measure, hissing "liar" before turning to follow.

Your hand in his, Steve hurries through the streets, picking the ones he knows are busier but maneuverable to make sure you're not being pursued. Each time he looks back, he sees your sinking face, more tears, more exhaustion, and he makes a flash decision.

He doesn't stop until he locks the door of his apartment behind you both, and you break down on the bare wood floor.

"You hurt? Did he hurt you?" Steve's boney knees land a few inches from yours and he leans over, his long fingers brushing over your pinned hair and stiff curls that dislodged in the commotion. "You're alright. You're safe here."

Where your legs crumple underneath you, your slip lays over your thigh, uncovered by the skirt pooling on the other side of your hip. He can see the outline of a garter strap and the top of your stocking beneath the silky material. Steve's always loved pretty, delicate things. He also loves the faint bulge of flesh around the restraints.

There's meat on your bones, something to hold onto, and he shakes his head, chastising himself for noticing all the wrong things about the crying woman in his home. His lonely, empty home.

Steve attempts to think of anything other than your body.

"Do you know him? What'd you call him a liar for?"

You sigh in defeat, hands flopping into your lap, and confess that it wasn't about him so much as a man not here anymore. Gone. To war. You tell Steve a rambling tale of excuses and snide comments, of a parting that left you wondering why that man--any man--bothered to be with you in the first place, of a surety that you weren't ever wanted.

"I thought he loved me but he lied."

Steve sits cross-legged in front of you now, enthralled and utterly confused. Why would anyone...?

"That's the worst part," you exclaim, voice cracking. "I don't know. I'll never know." Your fingers fiddle with the hem of your skirt. "I heard today that he died. Don't know where. Don't know when. And I hate that I still care."

"But he wasn't good to you," Steve soothes and wraps his hand around yours, "and he wasn't good for you."

All you do is shrug and hide your face. Tears falls to the fabric below your eyes and seep through in dark patches.

He scoots forward and lifts your chin with a gentle nudge. When your puffy red eyes meet his, he's struck by how lucky he feels to see you like this. It's odd to think someone who knew you more and for so much longer couldn't feel infinitely more attached and protective. You're so vulnerable, so open, so...

"You're beautiful." Steve's tongue swipes over his dry lips. "You're so beautiful."

The words are loaded heavier than tanks and pack the punch of a bomb. He can tell you don't truly hear him by the way you shrink and shake your head out of his hold.

"Don't do that," he pleads. "Please don't hide from me."

"You don't know me."

"No, but I--"

"You don't even know my name!"

He sits back and offers his hand.

"Hi, I'm Steve. It's nice to meet you, and I think you're beautiful."

"That's stupid," you lash out, bitterly spitting the half-hearted, heart-breaking words. "You must be an idiot, Steve."

It's not the first time he's heard it, but it is the first time he's not mad at hearing it. He believed those things, too, long ago, before his mom convinced him to see the possibilities in one's struggles. If you perceive it as an obstacle, it is an obstacle. Perceive it as an opportunity instead and use it. Those aren't her exact words, but Sarah Rogers has so many different ways of teaching the same fundamental lessons that Steve can't remember the phrases anymore.

He can remember the feeling. He remembers seeing both obstacles and opportunities.

"Is it stupid to want to touch you?" he whispers. "Because I would love to touch you."

The question is purposefully leading since he knows from your story that's exactly what you long for. It'll be more impactful if he shows you he longs for that too.

Slowly--so slowly--his hand comes up to your cheek again, his fingers tucking behind your neck.

"I don't want your pity." There's still bitterness but no power behind it. You gently shift closer and meet him halfway.

He's kissed girls before, he's fooled around, and he has, in fact, slept with one girl. They went all the way--twice--which means Steve knows what it is to be pitied intimately. He knows what it's like to want something so badly you don't care what the motivation is.

You deserve to know his motives.

"I don't pity you." His focus falls to your quivering lip. "I want to make you happy." He's close. He's so close his breath rolls warm over your face. "I want to make you smile."

A soft whimper leaves you just as his mouth arrives.

"I want you," he says into the kiss.

Instead of fighting, you grab at his jacket, pulling him until you're both falling into the stand lamp. You taste of salt and something sweet he can't put his finger on. Steve resolves to put that on the list of things to find out about you.

He keeps kissing you as you both fall, the lamp now wedged at an angle by the side table. Despite the tangle of tongues, Steve keeps his hands to himself. He doesn't quite have enough answers.

"What do you want, beautiful?"

Hesitant as he pulls away, gripping worn leather like your purse in the street, your eyes dart between his. You're a dream beneath him, but that sounds too selfish to voice.

"May I..." Steve is already panting "...get you off the floor? More comfortable?"

Maybe you haven't been able to say the words, but Steve doesn't need more convincing to know you want him.

He could tell from the way you pawed at him. He could tell from the multiple times you crashed him into the walls along the hall to makeout more. He could tell from the way you melted like hot butter at his every returned touch, but finally, you two made it to his bed.

He'd be embarrassed by the lumpy old thing if there weren't a curvy, luscious dame standing with wide legs at the foot of it, letting his tie slip through your hands as he sits stunned.

Steve swallows thickly.

"Let me see you." It comes out as more of an order than the hopeful question he intended, but when he sees the command shiver through you, he feels six-foot-six and powerful as all hell.

You two share the burden of unbuttoning all of your layers, spinning you a few times to release front and back and side to side. His hands spread and roam to relish each garment, each moment, until you're top half is naked.

He stares, fierce blue irises muted by the dim light on his bedside table, 'beautiful' on his lips every second you spend with your finger yanking the knot of his tie and sliding off the bond. When you lean to pop his shirt buttons, your breasts hang in his face.

Steve stops you by your wrists, peaking up at you through his long lashes as he takes a nipple in his mouth. He keeps thinking it--beautiful--while his tongue sweeps flat across pebbling flesh. Each subsequent swirl has you melting again, pressing more of you to his face, dragging nails up his chest, sighing long and deep. When he switches to the other side, your fingers bury in his hair. He takes his time to worship you, tracing his own fingertips around the hem of your slip and garters.

He doesn't get impatient, if anything Steve feels greedy for wanting more, for praying this lasts forever, for needing all you're willing to give.

His teeth graze your skin in wanton lust, and you flinch in surprise, knocking you off-balance.

You fall to your knees on the mattress, straddling Steve's slender body beneath your hot core.

"Sorry," you mutter, wriggling to stand, forcing Steve to wrap his arms around you and halt your retreat. "I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you."

"You can sit on me morning, noon, and night," he rasps. "I won't complain. I'll thank you, beautiful."

He groans pathetically when you relax, the grind of your ass making his slacks pinch tighter and tighter. Steve lets his head fall back on the sheets, eyes fluttering shut. The army might not want him, the world outside may forget he ever existed, but you see. He could get addicted to this feeling. He might get lonely without it.

Steve isn't strong enough to keep hold of you, but your weight never leaves, his erection still slotted between your cheeks. His mouth drops wide when your hips roll. Steve whines when you rise up enough to resume unbuttoning him. His lungs and heart go into overdrive, but even so, Steve doesn't want you doing all the work.

He flips you--using the sum total of his strength--and shuffles backward to stand, ripping the tails of his shirt from beneath his belt and shucking off his trousers. That part he could have been more patient for, but Steve smirks and brushes away the hair falling in his eyes, chest heaving from exertion.

He's pleased to see you watching him, ogling his body without judgment. You look like you want to eat him alive, and he is perfectly fine with that.

His palm lands on your knee to sneak higher beneath your slip, nimble fingers popping the clasps along your stockings and hooking through the band of your underwear. You lifting for him is all the permission he needs. Steve leaves your slip, garter belt, and stockings in place, and in a cheeky twist, he lets your underwear hang off one of your ankles, kissing your inner thigh, pushing your knees wider for him to fit.

He throbs in his boxers at the sight of your sex.

Nerves roil in his belly at the idea he is solely responsible for your pleasure. As he glances up to you, propped up on your elbows with a fearful and expectant gaze, he sees a poster promising honor and glory, a service to be proud of, and for the first time, he has doubts.

You see it in his eyes.

"Steve?"

He wants to participate and show that he's worthy of you.

This isn't about him though, and Steve Rogers is nothing if not dedicated anyone other than himself.

"Right here." He snaps back to reality, laying his hand to your thatch of hair and gently teasing his thumb along your folds. "I'm right here, beautiful."

It's an honor to touch you. He's proud of the moan elicited because he strokes over your clit rhythmically. The glory of watching you writhe is all his.

Steve's breath stays rapid as yours picks up. You're fisting the sheets, slick pooling beneath the pad of his thumb, helping him pick up speed. He dips into you, tests the breach while pushing his boxers down, and crawls over the edge of the bed. Like magnets, you guide each other higher till the pillows cradle you.

You're a broken record, repeating a desperate loop.

"Steve," you whimper.

"Won't ever lie to you." He captures your lips again. "Want you so badly. I'll want you all the time."

Steve doesn't understand why you won't talk to him, so he slows, eyes questioning and brow furrowed. You have to see. The light is right there.

Bottom lip trapped, you still say nothing, but your arms raise to his smooth face and plead in the silence.

He wants the same thing. He wants to feel. Not just the sting of rejection. Not just the slippery, rough stones through his shoes. Not just the empty ache inside. He wants to feel like someone cares whether he lives or dies.

You care even when you don't want to, but Steve can earn you, your care, your smile and your tears. He'll get up and come home to you every time. He needs you to come home to.

Otherwise, this is a lonely, empty apartment. Otherwise, he is a lonely, empty man.

Your hands bring him close, lips pausing just before contact while Steve sinks two fingers into you.

You gasp. His fingers curl. His thumb goes back to work. You kiss him with what little breath you can hold between muted cries until Steve notices your roving hands tug at his waist.

He wants the same thing.

Sitting back on his heels, Steve drapes your thighs over his, his slick fingers spreading you. He's mesmerized watching his cock disappear inch by inch, and the caress of your walls shuts down all other brain function. All he can do is slide against you, bent into your soft body, your breasts padding his jerky thrusts, the base of him perfectly laving the hood of your clit in the growing mess.

You're wet, and he's driven wild by the need to make you come. He tries to sit up again, to play with you properly, but he's stopped by the weight of your legs crossed behind his ass, the strength of your thighs anchoring him in place.

Steve takes huge, deep breaths through his nose because he won't last concentrating on how your body bounces and ripples, plush beneath his boney form.

You get wetter, looser in a welcoming way that spurs him to drive himself home faster. He sucks in air, though it's futile once his heavy balls start to seize.

Suddenly, you shout, stretching to push yourself completely flush with his pelvis, and he has to pull out, keeping aligned with the cut of you as aftershocks make you mindlessly hump him. Steve's cum shoots all over his belly and your chest, some drops dampening what clothes he didn't discard, stains of joy replacing stains of sadness.

His chest might explode. He's gasping, taxed beyond his naughtiest dreams, head lolling toward the ceiling with his throat high.

He feels your legs fall away, and Steve hopes for an instant that you embrace him even though he might suffocate in the process.

The envelopment never comes. The world is fuzzy and too warm beyond him.

He hears the sink in his bathroom turn on just as he lands palms-down on sweaty sheets. He tries every trick he knows to calm down. The water still runs after all the time it takes for him to recover and stand. The closer he gets to the doorway, the clearer the sound really is.

Sobbing.

"Beautiful? What's wrong? Did I--"

The faucet squeaks off, and you barrel out, nearly running him over, your arms covering your chest and your disheveled hair hiding your face.

"What are you doing? Are you cold?" Steve tries.

"I'm disgusting," you hiss in a mad dash for the pile of clothes on the floor.

He trips over his feet to stop you, corralling you as best he can, but you're quick. You certainly have fight in you. Steve only want to show you you do not have to fight him.

"Come back to bed," he commands hopefully, grabbing your wrist as you scoop up your wrinkled dress. "I should clean up, but please, please, come back to bed."

There is something broken and fearful in the way you finally meet his eye. He's torn apart, shredded down to nothing in a single look. That's not how a feral animal sees the world; that's how an animal, abused and betrayed, locks the world out.

Your protection is what you really took off for him. Your thick armor is what Steve got past.

"I didn't lie." He lets go of you and steps back as calm as his rasping breaths can manage. "I want you. I want you to stay." He wonders whether he ought to cover himself, too, because perhaps total vulnerability makes you more nervous.

So he presents himself as an opportunity, not an obstacle.

Steve finds his boxers a foot away and says one more time, "I hope you stay."

Unmoving, your eyes follow his walk to the bathroom, and in the split second he's looking down to turn the tap, you're gone.

Disappointment floods his system, but like all the other stamped failures in his record, Steve goes through the motions of caring for a body that thwarts his desire to live at every turn. In fact, it tries to die so often, he's always surprised to find himself here, staring at this mirror again, wondering why he gets back up.

He's also surprised to find you here, in the bed with the sheet pulled up to your chin, nodding to the side table where you've placed a cup of water.

The tiniest of genuine smiles curves your lips.

Steve's home is neither lonely nor empty anymore. He could cry.

A/N: this got so incredibly out of hand... I'm so sorry. But also, thank you for reading!

Tags: @supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn

@late-to-the-party-81 @bigtreefest @mistressmkay @astheskycries

@rogersbarber @blogbog710 @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Hold On You 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, bullying, depression, controlling and abusive behaviour, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you try to look on the bright side of life but a man comes along to blot out the sun.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: Thank you all for feeding into this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

It’s a nice day to get out. One of the last sunny days of autumn. You can smell the soil and leaves and hear the call of pumpkin spice. Maybe on your way back. 

You can’t spend another day inside. Not after the week you’ve had. Besides, once the winter hits, you’ll have more than enough reason not to go past your front door. You’re going to make the most of your day off. More so, you’re going to keep your mind busy so it doesn’t fall back into the pit. 

It feels good to move around. Between hunching at your cubicle desk and squinting over your dining room table, that crick in your neck needs to be ironed out. You have to remind yourself to stand up straight as the muscles tug between your shoulder blades. 

You stop and turn to face the record shop. As you do, you’re nearly bowled over by another pedestrian. You hadn’t realised they were so close behind you. You back up and apologise but the man doesn’t even look at you as he veers toward the front door. The bell jingle as he enters with a huff, the back of his dark jacket a vague splotch in your vision. 

Oop. You’re in the way. Again. You do your best not to do that. You never want to stir the waters or be a bump in the road but somehow you always find a way to do that. No good comes from wallowing in it. As stressful as it can be to brave the public and its unpredictability, a smile keeps you from falling apart. 

You approach the shop and swing open the door. Oof, it’s much heavier than that man made it look. You greet the associate behind the counter with a beaming morning and ‘hello?’ He asks how you are and you give the easy answer; ‘good, how are you?’ He responds with the same empty courtesy. 

You look around the covers and the little signs that delineate every genre. Before you can get into all that, you need the most important piece of all. A record player. For as long as you’ve been waiting to set foot in the shop, you’ve been saving up for the player. 

You near the table stacked with varying shades of suitcase players. You read up on each brand and style. It will be best to tuck away when you’re not using it. Your small apartment is already too cluttered. 

You pick a lilac player with little white roses stamped over the cover. It’s on sale. A sign above proclaims that you can get twenty percent off three or more records when you by a player. Well, how about that? It isn’t all doom and gloom. 

You hug the player under your arm and near the shelves mounted to the walls. You peruse the titles intently. Something new? Something you know? You definitely don’t want to get just one genre.  

As you sidle along, the corner of the box knocks against something. You look back and another ‘sorry’ bubbles from your lips. It’s that man again. He’s browsing the end cap behind you and growls at your apology. You stare at him for a moment, he seems at home in a place like this. 

“Um, excuse me, sir,” you say, “do you have any recommendations?” 

He grumbles and puts the album back in its slot. He looks over his shoulder with detest curled into his lip. The stone chiseled into his jaw makes you gulp. 

“What?” He scowls. 

“Sorry, I didn’t... I was only... curious. Have a good day, sir.” 

“Good? What’s good about it?” He hisses. You wince and move to the next section. Not far enough as he sighs, “you know, you wouldn’t like my taste anyway. Stick to your girly pop.” 

You resist a frown. You’re not going to let someone like that bring you down. You can tell that he looks for the worst in everything and everyone. You wouldn’t judge someone by their appearance but his demeanour says as much as his words. You won’t add to his cynicism but bothering him further. 

You pick out an Etta James album that you recognise. Your grandmother had the same one. You think your mother snatched it up after she passed. You didn’t get much from the inheritance. As it is, you’d rather have your grandma back. Someone to talk to. 

You move on to the rock section. There’s hair metal and classic rock and grunge and all sorts. You’re not unfamiliar with the genre but you don’t want to be too obvious.  

A scuff startles you and you glance over at the man in the dark jacket. He seems familiar. His short brown hair, his stubbly jaw, and his intensity trigger something in your head. You definitely don’t know him. Everyone you know is too busy for you. 

“Probably don’t even know how to use the damn thing,” he snips under his breath as he gets closer. 

You realise he’s talking about you. It’s no good arguing. You’ve met his kind before. Back when your friends had the time of day for you, you met that type at their parties. You avoided them. 

You leave the aisle. You don’t want to be in his way, though it seems no matter what you do, you are. You find yourself exactly where he predicted. Well, who cares? It’s all a matter of brain chemistry, right? You don’t get to choose what you like, you just like it. It makes your brain happy and heaven knows you need more of that. 

You pick out another favourite then head over to new release. You’ve never heard Sabrina Carpenter. You’ll give it a try. 

You approach the counter and as you do, another sigh storms through the shop. The man’s behind you. Oh no, had you cut him off? 

“You want to go ahead of me?” You ask as you keep your haul in your arms. 

He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, a single record in his hand; The Boswell Sisters. You’ve never heard of them but it really doesn’t look like heavy metal. You turn back to the cashier and smile, “hello, um, this is it.” 

You put your things up as the man returns your smile. He asks if you want a bag and you say, ‘yes, please’. Things might not be perfect but it doesn’t mean you can’t try to make them better. And if a smile and manners can brighten someone else’s day, that alone makes yours a little sunnier. 

🪢

The box for the player has a little plastic handle. You’re happy for that as it makes your journey to cafe a little easier. You stand in line with your paper bag and bulky box and move along until it’s your turn. You order the pumpkin spice but think better of double up with the pumpkin cream muffin; you instead opt for the apple cinnamon with the chunks you can see through the top. 

Patiently, you stand by the wall until your order comes up. You crinkle around the other customers and claim it, balancing it all delicately toward an empty table. You tuck the box underneath and lean the bag against it. 

You tear apart the muffin, dividing the bottom from the top. You peel back the liner and eat the former first, pinching morsels between your fingers. You don’t know why you do it that way, you just always have.  

You taste the pumpkin spice. It’s good. Not too spicy at all. It tastes like real pumpkin. Considering the place is local, it might very well be. You pop the lid off to reveal the mostly melted cream and have another sip. 

You wipe the dairy mustache from your upper lip with a napkin and your eyes flick up to meet another pair. Not far from you, that man stands with his hands in his pockets. He’s waiting by the order window for his own delight. Well, that’s great. Maybe it will cheer him up. 

He glowers until you look through the window. Or not. The baristas call out a black coffee as you chew on the brim of the paper cup. You stare out into New York traffic and feel yourself getting smaller. It’s easy to feel lost in the city. 

As you watch through the window, a dark figure passes before it. You lift your gaze and again find yourself at the mercy of that man’s grim snarl. You quickly turn back to your latte. He must’ve had that black coffee. He might do with a bit of sugar. 

You try not to think about it. You don’t know him. You don’t know his problems. Just like anyone else. People don’t know that you feel heavy when you wake up or that you spend your hours keeping your hands busy so you don’t have to think. They only know the woman with the smile and the chipper voice and just as swiftly forget about her. 

You pick away at the muffin, savouring in each bite. You’re thankful for that. For that moment. You have coffee and a nice dessert and you got your record player. It's best not to think about all the existential stuff you can’t change. It will come back later when you’re alone. It can wait until then. 

🪢

Your walk home sees the sun hiding behind the clouds. The downpour begins a block away from your building and soaks you through. You keep your head down against the sheets of rain and hurry up the walk as the front door comes in sight. 

The elevator is out of order. Again. You climb the stairs in your squeaky soles and finally reach your apartment. You push inside and kick off your sodden shoes and peel away your jacket. The turtleneck beneath is just as drenched. 

You don’t strip down right away. You’re more concerned with your prizes. The records are fine, the covers just a bit damp, and the player doesn’t seem to have taken too much water. You leave it all on the counter and go to change into your favourite fuzzy pajamas. 

You come back out to the front room and stop to admire the slake of rain pelleting against the large windows. It might be dreary but it’s beautiful in its own way. You let the tempo lull you as you unpack the player and set it up on the book shelf.  

You slide the Etta James record from its sleeve and lay it on the player, moving the needle into place. You let it play as you back up, the boisterous tones of the legend melding perfectly with the raindrops. You smile; not the put-upon smile you wear for strangers but a smile of nostalgia and calm. You miss your grandma terribly but the music doesn’t make you sad. 

You go to the table, still messy from last night’s work. It never is clear. You always have scraps and bits littered over it, your sewing machine a permanent fixture on the worn wood. You sit and pick up the felt clump and go back to needling it to a discernible shape. 

Your brows nearly meet in the middle for your focus and it isn’t until the record begins to skip that you sit up. That damn kink is back. Your own fault. Can’t be mad at anyone but yourself. 

You flip the record and let it play out. When it’s over, you shut off the player. You eat the leftovers you’ve been parsing out for the week and settle in for your favourite romcom. It’s cheesy and a little lame but you only have to keep yourself happy. Or try to. 

You leave your plate on the coffee table and hunker down to finish the movie. You’re tired when it’s over but know you won’t sleep. So you go back to the table and work as the rain slows to a lazy rhythm. Your eyelids droop, your shoulders too, but you persist. 

The windows grow dark and there is only the distant shine of streetlights and few windows in the neighbouring buildings. You stare out at the blurring haze and it fades to a deep grey. You wake leaning back in the chair, your head hanging off your neck. You groan as you sit up and curse your carelessness. 

It won’t make work any less intolerable. You check the time ticking away on the clock that came with the apartment. You can get another hour or two. You get up and trod off to bed, not bothering to shut off the lights. You don’t sleep well in the pitch black. 

You fall into bed and just as quickly find yourself unbearable awake. All those little doubts and fears rise up to the surface and have you drowning just below. This is why you end up sleeping upright or folded over. Trying never works for you. Not at anything. 

[knavesflames]

sucking arles dick???😁😇

Hi!! Apologies this took so long.

Word count: 725

Contents: blowjob, tears, praise

[scheduled post]

Nsft utc!

She’s gentle at first, her lips which are so usually set in a line turning up into a warm smile as you sink to your knees. Her eyes glint when your mouth instinctively opens at the feeling of her ever so gently tapping the tip of her on your face, and the second your tongue swirls over her, she lets out a breathless “good girl”.

She watches you with her lips parted, her eyes half closed and glazed with the pleasure she’s attempting to hide she’s feeling— she’s the fourth harbinger, known for being mad and cursed, of course she struggles to express her pleasure. At least, to begin with. She’s still, letting you work and get used to her because yes, she is bigger than average, and yes, it’s a struggle for you. With your head against the bed and your knees on the floor cushioned by a pillow (she’s mad and cursed, not cruel as some might think, though she enjoys the misconception), you know that once she gets worked up enough there’s no escape.

Her charred fingers grip the bedsheets, pink, just like you wanted them. You remember when you asked so kindly for them.

“Tell anyone that I sleep in a bed with pink sheets with flowers on and you’ll regret it, my dear.”

You, of course, promised you’d tell nobody. Though, you have to stifle a laugh when she’s grumbling about work and climbing into said bedsheets, her expression a stark contrast to where she’s about to hibernate for the night.

She can’t seem to help herself, you look so beautiful on your knees, and she starts gently moving her hips, grabbing your wrists with such care and placing them above your head. A loose grip, but a grip nonetheless and you know not to move them away from her. Her gentleness proves her love for you, but you know not to be disobedient (unless you want to cum so many times you can’t take it).

Her breath becomes heavier, quick puffs of air leaving her lips. She does not make a sound, and yet you can see how her cheeks begin to flush and her thrusts begin to speed up until they become more than gentle thrusts, but an attempt to get as deep into your mouth as she can. And when she finally hits the back of your throat, a groan does come out of her, though strained and muffled by how hard she’s gritting her teeth. She stays there, enjoying the sensation before you cough, your body heaving for a split second before she pulls back, bringing strings of saliva with her.

She gives you respite for only a few seconds before she continues, taking a step forward so your head is pinned to the bed, so you get to watch as she fucks your throat with reckless abandon in the hopes of chasing the high you both know so well. She hits the back of your throat again, and again, and your gagging and choking only becomes more prominent every single time your nose meets her pelvis.

“You take me so well, do you not, doll? Look at you, so messy for me. My pretty little whore.”

You attempt to hum in response, but she only groans again. Her grip on your wrists becomes tighter as she loses her sense of self control. With her ragged breathing and her eyes on you as tears prick at your eyes, she begins fucking your throat fully, shallowly thrusting and relishing in every single sound you make. Gags and choking and the lewd, lewd sloppy sounds echo the lavish bedroom, and before long, a few tears slip down your cheeks, mingling with the spit on your chin. Yet, the only thing you can focus on is her babbling praises, becoming more and more incoherent.

Her thrusts slow, but harden, and within a few more jerking movements of her hips, she makes a sound akin to a whine and a growl combined. You feel the strings of cum slide down your throat, and just the way she likes it, you swallow every last drop before she pulls out and bends down, her thumb swiping over your bottom lip to clear the drool threatening to join the mess on your chin.

“You did so well. So, so well. Come here, angel.”