#but just like back then I know now that it won’t be like this forever
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Working Hard
“Stay still, ma,” Toji demands again.
He’s holding himself up above you, bare chested, muscles pronounced and flexing, and a slight sheen of sweat coating his toned body. His hair is all mussed up and you can’t resist running your hand through it, clearing his vision of you.
With one corner of his lips pulled up, he winks at you and asks, “Gonna lie there and be good for me?”
“I’ll behave, Scout’s honour.” You giggle.
Rolling his eyes, he bends his arms, biceps bulging delectably, and nears your face. He does it with ease, in one simple move, no hesitation, no creak or friction. So effortlessly, agile and powerful — you feel heat in your cheeks.
This big, strong man is all yours.
And he knows it.
“That’s fifty now, doll. Ya know the drill,” he reminds you.
Breath fanning across your face, his nose brushes against yours and all you can see is him. Just him. And it’s all you ever want to see for the rest of your life — Toji chasing your lips with every push up, carrying his weight so he won’t crush you, couldn’t bear to do it. Would rather die than bruise your body in ways you wouldn’t like.
You kiss him on the lips, tasting the salt there and going back for seconds. Tongue tracing the crease of his lips, you push in, desperate to deepen the kiss, to have more.
He tuts, arms suddenly extending to full height. “Ya said you’ll behave; ya promised.”
“But, Toji,” you begin, pouting, “you’re taking forever to get to one hundred. I don’t want to just peck you every time. I literally cannot wait until one hundred for a proper kiss.”
You reach out, arms outstretched to wrap your hands around his clammy neck, making pitiful attempts to pull him back down. He scrapes his teeth against your wrist, a playful warning.
“That’s too damn bad, ma. We made a deal and y’r gonna have to honour it, yeah?”
“Whatever.”
He snorts. “Atta girl.”
And then he’s bending back down, grunting on his way. You swivel your head to the side with a huff, cheek grazing his jutted out lips.
“Now y’r just being mean,” he snickers, soft lips skimming your jaw, a deep inhale rumbling through his chest. “Come on, ma. I need my reward, don’t I? Y’r not gonna make me beg for it, are ya?”
Toji’s flexing up, body pushing itself higher and higher above you, slowly, testing you. You’re weak; you cave.
Arms wrapping around him again, you bring down with a grunt. He teases you with part of his weight, pinning you to the ground. Your legs curl around him too until there’s no space existing between you.
You smother his cheeks in wet, sloppy kisses, giggling as he makes groans of complaint, rolling on the mat until you’re cradled on his chest, still attacking wherever you can with pecks.
“Knew you’d be a distraction; can never work when you’re here,” he sasses.
With one final smooch right on his nose — he crinkles it, in fake disgust you hope — you rest your chin on his chest, and suggest, “If it’s cardio you want to do, why not do something more fun, Toji baby?”
He makes another noise of complaint, about the term of endearment but he’s lazily grinning at you, huge hands tightening their grip around your back.
“Alright, ya win.” He rolls his eyes and smacks your ass. “Pants off and get on my face, ma.”
Working out is fun if it’s with Toji.
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i love you, always and forever ࿐‧₊ make you mine
chapter summary: With finals over, summer break starts. But of course, there are a few surprises along the way.
word count: 14.7k+
pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader
notes: helllloooo! so this is the 'main' alternate timeline, basically just meaning the timeline that exists because logan changed the past. or in other words, the timeline where logan wakes up after stopping mystique from killing trask
i still have quite a few stories to tell about logan and reader, like how they got married, found laura, had gabby, etc. most of this series is just fluff, sometimes with some angst, but the only problems that arise don't involve any violence.
anyways, think of this as taking place sometime after who are we to fight the alchemy? (pt. 1 and 2)!
warnings/tags: reader wears glasses, fluff, summer break, mention of damp hair and hair being tied back, x-men mission, light violence, slight angst, soft!logan
series masterlist - chapter 2
Logan was like a bear—a giant, warm, cuddly bear. Though if you told him that you were sure he’d deny, deny, deny.
You let out a sleepy grunt, groggily reaching over to slap your alarm clock into silence. As the shrill beeping stopped, you became acutely aware of the warm, heavy weight wrapped securely around you. Logan’s arm was draped over your waist, holding you firmly in place against his chest. His even breaths fanned across the back of your neck, and the slight scruff of his beard grazed your skin as he shifted, pulling you impossibly closer.
“Logan,” you murmured, your voice thick with sleep as you squirmed in his grasp.
A low, disgruntled growl rumbled from his chest. “Mm-mm. Nope,” he mumbled against your shoulder, his voice rough and muffled. “Five more minutes.”
You huffed a quiet laugh, even as your cheeks warmed at the sound of his voice so close to your ear. “I have to get up,” you protested softly, trying to wriggle free. His arm tightened instinctively, making escape a futile endeavor.
“Don’t see why,” he muttered, still half-asleep. “You’re comfy right here.”
You rolled your eyes, your lips twitching into a smile despite yourself. “I have class to prep for, Logan. You know, that thing where I teach physics to a bunch of mutant teenagers?”
He grunted in response, clearly unimpressed by your logic. “Teenagers’ll survive without you for one morning,” he drawled, his lips brushing against the crook of your neck in a way that made your breath hitch. “I’m not lettin’ you go.”
You turned your head just enough to catch a glimpse of his face—eyes still closed, hair sticking up in every direction, and a faint smirk playing on his lips. The sight was almost enough to make you cave, but you managed to keep your resolve. Barely.
“You’re impossible,” you muttered, even as your hand instinctively reached up to comb through his unruly hair. His grin widened at the affectionate gesture, and he cracked one eye open, peering at you with a sleepy, satisfied expression. “But today is the last day of classes, and I have to give them their final.”
Logan let out an exaggerated groan, burying his face against the curve of your neck. “You’re tellin’ me a bunch of kids and their tests are more important than me?” His voice was muffled, the low rumble of it sending a pleasant warmth through you.
You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I don’t make the schedule, Logan. Believe me, if I could skip it, I would.”
“You’re not skippin’ it,” he grumbled, though his lips brushed lightly against your skin. “But don’t think I won’t complain about it the whole time you’re gone.”
“You? Complain? Shocking.” Your playful tone earned you a half-hearted growl as Logan rolled onto his back, pulling you with him. You landed on his chest, his arms securely around you. His fingers traced idle patterns along your back, his gaze fixed on you now with a mix of affection and amusement.
“You’re gonna spend the rest of the day buried in grading,” he said, arching a brow. “And I won’t see you for days. Don’t think I didn’t notice what happened after midterms.”
Your face warmed at the memory of being holed up in your office, surrounded by papers, but you tilted your chin stubbornly. “I have to grade, Logan. How else will they know whether they pass?”
“Sounds like a them problem,” he countered smoothly, his smirk deepening.
“Logan.” You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. He always had a way of making you feel light, even when you were stressed. “You could help me grade, you know. I’ll even teach you how to curve a test.”
His laugh was deep and genuine, rumbling through his chest beneath you. “Pretty sure that’d end with me givin’ everyone a pass just so I could get you back quicker.”
You opened your mouth to retort, but he silenced you with a kiss. It was soft and unhurried, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head as he tilted his own. By the time he pulled back, your thoughts had scattered, and he looked thoroughly pleased with himself.
“Fine,” you muttered, still breathless. “But I’m locking my office door when I’m grading.”
His grin widened. “Good. I’ll just pick the lock.”
“Logan!”
He chuckled, flipping you gently onto your back and leaning down to press another kiss to your forehead. “Alright, darlin’. Go teach your kids or whatever. But I’m holding you to dinner tonight. No papers allowed.”
You smiled up at him, your hand brushing lightly against his jawline. “Deal.”
Logan lingered a moment longer, his eyes tracing your face as though memorizing every detail. Then, with a sigh, he pushed himself up, reluctantly letting you go. “Go on, then, before I change my mind and keep you here.”
You bit back a laugh, slipping out of bed and grabbing your glasses from the nightstand. As you moved to get ready, you could feel his eyes on you, his presence a steady warmth in the background.
---
“Why are you in my office?” Jean asked, walking into the room where you sat on the couch in the corner.
“Close the door, Jean!” You whisper-yelled. Jean raised an eyebrow but complied as you spoke again, “Logan’s clingy, he says that since classes are over for the summer I should be ‘spending time with him’ even though I told him I still have the finals to grade.”
Jean closed the door, her curiosity evident as she leaned against it, arms crossed. “You’re hiding in my office to avoid Logan?”
You sighed, setting aside the stack of papers you were grading on Jean’s coffee table. “It’s not like I’m avoiding him forever. I just need a few hours to finish these finals without him finding me and pulling me into another impromptu cuddle session.”
Jean smirked, clearly entertained. “He’s got a point, though. Classes are over. Most people would kill to have their boyfriend be that invested in spending time with them.”
You rolled your eyes, even as a smile tugged at your lips. “I know. And it’s sweet, really. But he doesn’t understand that I can’t just wave a wand and make the grades magically appear. These finals aren’t going to grade themselves.”
Jean quirked a brow. “And you thought my office was the safest place to hide?”
“Well, yeah.” You gestured around. “Logan wouldn’t think to look for me here. Plus, I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“I don’t mind,” Jean replied, amused. “But you know he’s going to find you eventually. He has an uncanny ability to know exactly where you are.”
You slumped back against the couch, groaning softly. “Don’t remind me. It’s like he has a sixth sense or something.”
Jean chuckled, walking over and plopping into the chair across from you. “It’s called being ridiculously in love with you. That man’s not exactly subtle.”
The words made your face heat up, but you tried to brush it off. “Yeah, well, ridiculously in love or not, he needs to let me work for a bit. I’ll make it up to him later.”
Jean’s smirk turned mischievous. “Oh, I’m sure you will. Candlelit dinner? Maybe a movie night?”
“Jean!” you hissed, your cheeks burning as you tried to shush her. “Don’t you start too.”
She held up her hands, mock-innocent. “I’m just saying, it’s adorable how smitten he is. Honestly, I think it’s good for you. You’re not usually the type to take much downtime.”
You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, the door creaked open just enough for Logan’s unmistakable voice to drift in.
“Jean, you seen—”
Logan froze in the doorway, his brows lifting slightly when he saw you sitting there. His gaze flicked to Jean, who was already biting back a grin, and then back to you.
“Found you,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he was trying not to smirk.
You sank further into the couch, your face heating under his knowing stare. “I was… grading,” you said lamely, gesturing to the papers in front of you.
Logan stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him. His eyes stayed on you, warm and amused. “In Jean’s office?”
“It was a strategic decision,” Jean quipped before you could answer, her tone dripping with mock seriousness.
Logan ignored her, his attention fixed solely on you. He crossed the room, crouching down in front of you so you were at eye level. His hand came to rest lightly on your knee, the warmth of his touch grounding you despite your embarrassment.
“You could’ve just told me you needed time to work, darlin’,” he said softly, his voice carrying no trace of irritation—just quiet understanding.
“I did,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze. “You didn’t exactly listen.”
His lips quirked, and he leaned in slightly, his forehead nearly brushing yours. “Maybe ‘cause I’m selfish and like havin’ you around too much.”
Your resolve wavered as you finally looked at him, his eyes impossibly soft. Jean, sensing she was no longer needed, stood and slipped out of the room without a word, leaving the two of you alone.
“Logan,” you sighed, your voice quieter now. “I just… I really need to finish these finals. I promise, as soon as I’m done, I’m all yours.”
Logan studied you for a moment, then nodded, his hand squeezing your knee lightly. “Alright,” he said, standing up. “But I’m takin’ you to dinner tonight. Non-negotiable.”
You smiled, the weight of his gaze melting some of your earlier frustration. “Deal.”
He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead before straightening. “I’ll leave you to it, then. But don’t think I’m not gonna check in later.”
You rolled your eyes, but your grin lingered as he turned and left the room, his presence somehow leaving it warmer than before.
---
Theresa stood by you on her tiptoes, eagerly watching as you carefully sliced her apple. She hummed happily, her curly red hair bouncing with every small fidget of excitement. You smiled softly at her, taking your time to arrange the slices neatly on the plate. The summer sun streamed through the kitchen window, making the air feel lighter now that the semester was officially over.
You were dressed comfortably for the warm day, the floral sundress swaying slightly as you shifted your weight. Logan had gone off to check on something outside earlier, so the mansion was unusually quiet.
Logan passed the kitchen door without sparing it a glance, only to stop mid-step and double back. His figure filled the doorway as he leaned casually against the frame, his arms crossed, eyes locking onto you immediately.
He didn’t say anything at first, just stared, his expression caught somewhere between surprise and something softer. His gaze flickered over you briefly, but it was the kind of look that left you feeling as though he’d memorized every detail in a single second. His brows raised slightly, and the corners of his mouth pulled into the faintest hint of a smile.
You glanced up at him mid-slice, caught completely unaware. “What?” you asked, confused by the way his stare lingered.
Theresa, oblivious to the subtle tension, tugged lightly on your wrist. “Is it ready yet, Y/N? Can I have it now?”
“Almost,” you murmured, distracted as you finished the last cut. You placed the slices neatly onto the plate, handing it to her with a small smile. “Here you go, Tessie. Go eat at the table, alright?”
“Thanks!” she chirped before skipping off, her plate held triumphantly in both hands.
The kitchen was quiet again, save for the soft hum of the fridge. You turned back to find Logan still standing there, his smirk more pronounced now.
“What is it?” you asked, feeling a little self-conscious under his scrutiny.
“Nothin’,” he said, pushing off the doorframe to step closer. His voice was casual, but his eyes betrayed the warmth he was holding back. “Just… you look nice.”
Your cheeks heated immediately, and you glanced away, focusing on tidying up the cutting board. “It’s just a dress,” you mumbled.
“First time I’ve seen you wear one,” he replied, his voice quieter now as he leaned against the counter beside you. His knuckles brushed lightly against yours, and the gesture, as small as it was, sent your pulse skittering.
“I usually don’t,” you admitted, avoiding his gaze. “It’s not really practical, you know. With teaching, and the lab, and—”
“Practical or not, I like it,” he interrupted, his tone genuine. “Suits you.”
You risked a glance up at him, your eyes meeting his. He wasn’t smirking anymore. Instead, his expression was unguarded, softer than you were used to seeing. That look—the one where he seemed to see you and only you—made your heart twist in your chest.
“Thanks,” you said softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
Logan reached out, his fingers brushing the side of your arm lightly. “No need to hide when you’re wearin’ something nice, darlin’,” he murmured. “Don’t need to hide, period.”
“I wasn’t hiding,” you argued weakly, your voice betraying you with its timid edge.
He huffed a quiet laugh, his thumb grazing your forearm. “Sure you weren’t.”
“I wasn’t!” you protested, though your voice lacked conviction. His touch was making your thoughts spiral into incoherence.
“Okay, okay,” he said, his grin returning. “But you’ll wear it again sometime, yeah?”
You bit your lip, nodding slightly before looking away again. “Maybe.”
“Good,” he replied, his voice low and warm. “Because you’re stuck with me the rest of the day, anyway.”
“Logan,” you started, your shyness creeping back. “I—”
“No excuses,” he said firmly but without any harshness. “You’re done grading. It’s summer break. No runnin’ off to Jean’s office this time.”
Your face heated at the memory of that little escapade. “You’re not going to let me live that down, are you?”
“Not a chance,” he said, his grin widening. “Now c’mon. Let’s go for a walk or somethin’. You’ve been cooped up too long.”
He offered you his hand, and after a moment of hesitation, you took it. His grip was strong and steady, a quiet reassurance that you weren’t sure you’d ever stop craving.
As the two of you walked out into the summer sun, you couldn’t help but glance down at your dress, a small, shy smile tugging at your lips. Maybe dresses weren’t so impractical after all.
---
The kids’ laughter echoed over the beach, blending with the rhythmic crash of the waves against the shore. A soft breeze ruffled the umbrella shading you and Jean as you sat in matching beach chairs. The air smelled faintly of salt and sunscreen, the summer sun bright but not unbearable.
You had been staring at the same page of Maisie Dobbs for what had to be ten minutes, the words nothing more than a blur. Jean, seated beside you with her own book, glanced at you over the rim of Evidence of Things Unseen. Her lips twitched as she noticed the way your gaze had drifted—away from your book, away from the umbrella’s shade, and unmistakably toward the figure near the shoreline.
Logan stood knee-deep in the water, his jeans rolled up and his shirt conspicuously absent. He hadn’t bothered to wear anything particularly ‘beachy,’ but it didn’t seem to matter. The sun kissed his skin, highlighting the lines of muscle across his chest and arms, and his usual gruff expression softened as he helped some of the kids with their sandcastle defenses. His low chuckle carried faintly on the wind as he spoke to Bobby, who was excitedly gesturing at a moat that, from your vantage point, looked like it was doomed to fail against the incoming tide.
Jean smirked, closing her book deliberately. “You know, for someone with a PhD, you’re doing a terrible job pretending to read.”
Your head snapped back to your book, the sudden motion almost dislodging your glasses. “I’m reading!”
Jean arched an unimpressed brow, her tone teasing. “Oh? What’s happening in the book?”
You scrambled, trying to recall the last thing you’d actually processed. “Uh... Maisie just—she was, um—”
Jean’s laughter was soft but pointed. “Uh-huh. That’s what I thought.” She leaned closer, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “You know, it’s not like he’s never been shirtless before. You do live in the same mansion.”
Your cheeks burned, and you pushed your glasses up the bridge of your nose as if that would help hide your embarrassment. “It’s different,” you muttered, keeping your gaze firmly planted on your book now.
Jean grinned. “Different how?”
You hesitated, unwilling to put into words what felt so obvious. How the sight of him here, carefree and laughing with the kids, hit differently than the times you’d seen him shirtless before—training in the Danger Room, patching himself up after a mission, or even just wandering the halls in the early hours of the morning. Here, on this beach, Logan seemed... lighter.
“It just is,” you said finally, your voice quiet but insistent.
Jean shook her head, her grin widening. “You’re hopeless. But hey, at least now you’re not the only one distracted.”
Before you could process her words, a shadow fell over you. You glanced up to find Logan standing there, shirt slung over his shoulder and a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.
“Enjoying the view?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.
Your face flushed so hot you were sure it rivaled the sun. “I—I wasn’t—”
Jean, ever the opportunist, cut in before you could flounder any further. “She was definitely enjoying it.”
You shot her a mortified glare, but she just winked, clearly pleased with herself. Logan chuckled, the sound rumbling low in his chest as he crouched beside your chair. His hand came to rest lightly on the armrest, his proximity making your heart race.
“I thought I’d find you buried in a book,” he murmured, his tone teasing but warm. “Didn’t realize you’d be out here gettin’ a tan instead.”
“I’m not—” You floundered again, words failing you under the weight of his gaze.
“She’s been staring at you for the last ten minutes,” Jean added helpfully, earning her a sharp, wordless plea from you.
Logan’s smirk deepened, his attention unwavering as he tilted his head slightly. “That right?”
You wanted the earth to swallow you whole, but instead, you mustered up a weak protest. “Jean’s exaggerating.”
“I’m really not,” Jean chimed in.
“Alright, that’s enough outta you,” Logan said, though his amusement was evident.
Jean chuckled, standing and stretching dramatically. “I’ll leave you two to... whatever this is.” She shot you one last mischievous look before strolling off toward Scott, who was supervising the soccer game.
Once she was gone, Logan shifted, leaning closer. His fingers brushed lightly against your wrist where your hand rested on the book, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.
“You’re cute when you’re flustered, darlin’,” he said, his voice a low murmur.
“I wasn’t flustered,” you lied, your gaze dropping to the book again.
“Uh-huh,” he drawled, unconvinced. His thumb traced an idle circle on your wrist. “You’re a terrible liar.”
You finally risked a glance up at him, and the intensity in his gaze made your breath hitch. There was no teasing smirk now, just a quiet warmth that left you feeling as if the rest of the beach had faded away.
“Logan,” you started, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Yeah?” he prompted, his tone gentler now.
You hesitated, then shook your head, a small, shy smile tugging at your lips. “Never mind.”
He huffed a soft laugh, leaning in just enough to press a kiss to your forehead. “C’mon,” he said as he straightened, offering you his hand. “Let’s go walk by the water. You’ve been sittin’ here too long.”
You glanced at his hand, then back at him, your shyness warring with the warmth spreading through your chest. Finally, you slipped your hand into his, letting him pull you to your feet.
As the two of you strolled toward the shoreline, the kids’ laughter filling the air around you, you couldn’t help but think that Jean had been right. Distracted or not, Logan was a sight worth lingering on.
---
“You have got to get better at working with a team,” Ororo said.
Scott nodded in agreement, “you can’t just go off on your own and do whatever you want just because you can.”
They entered the viewing deck as Logan playfully scoffed, “I can work on a team. Just depends who I am working with. Isn’t that right, darlin’?”
You continued to look at the screens around you, letting out a noncommittal hum. “Yeah, sure.”
Logan chuckled under his breath, his tone dripping with amusement. “See? Told ya.” He leaned casually against the console, arms crossed as he glanced at you.
Scott pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “That’s not exactly what I’d call an endorsement.”
“Maybe not by your standards, Slim, but I’ll take what I can get,” Logan shot back with a lopsided grin.
Ororo let out a long-suffering sigh. “Logan, this isn’t a joke. You can’t keep running off and doing your own thing in the field. It puts everyone at risk.”
He shrugged, unbothered. “I get the job done.” His eyes flicked to you again, a faint spark of amusement lingering there. “Besides, I work just fine with the right people.”
Ororo didn’t dignify that with a response, her gaze narrowing. “You’re impossible.”
Scott gestured toward the holographic screens. “What’s the scores?” he asked, clearly trying to redirect the conversation to something productive.
You adjusted your glasses, your fingers moving across the controls as you pulled up the relevant data. “The team as a whole got an 84.75%,” you said, glancing at the screen and making a few adjustments to bring up individual scores. “Individually… well, it’s a mixed bag.”
Logan smirked, leaning closer. “Let me guess. I carried the team.”
Scott rolled his eyes. “Logan, you were the reason we lost points in the first place.”
“Details, details,” Logan said with a shrug. He glanced at you. “What’d I get, sweetheart?”
You tapped a few keys, pulling up his stats. “Well… I mean individual scores don’t really matter much do they? It’s all about—”
Jean chuckled and crossed her arms, interrupting you, “oh, I know what that means. You’re stalling.”
Your cheeks warmed as you adjusted your glasses, fumbling slightly with the console. “I’m not stalling. I’m just—being thorough.”
Logan tilted his head, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s hear it. I know I aced it.”
Ororo raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Logan, you left your assigned post twice and ignored team strategy. I wouldn’t get my hopes up.”
Jean chimed in with a smirk. “Not to mention, you destroyed half the simulated building—after the objective was completed.”
Logan’s grin didn’t falter. He leaned closer to you, his voice low and teasing. “They just don’t appreciate my style, do they?”
You bit back a small smile, keeping your gaze fixed on the screen. “Okay, fine. You got… a 62.”
Scott made an incredulous noise, crossing his arms. “See? That’s exactly what we’re talking about.”
Logan shrugged, completely unfazed. “Still passed. A win’s a win.”
“It’s barely passing,” Scott countered, clearly losing patience. “And that’s only because of your combat performance. Your teamwork score was—what? Ten points?”
“Seventeen,” you corrected, your tone soft but pointed. “Which isn’t… great.”
Ororo pinched the bridge of her nose, clearly exasperated. “Logan, the whole point of these exercises is to improve coordination and teamwork, not just show off.”
“Hey, if they want me to play nice, they should stop slowing me down,” Logan replied, his casual tone earning a groan from Scott.
“Logan,” you said, trying to balance your shy nature with the need to contribute. “I think what they’re saying is… you’re great on your own, but in a real mission, working together is—kind of important.”
His gaze softened as he looked at you, the teasing edge fading slightly. “Noted, sweetheart. I’ll try to keep that in mind.”
Jean exchanged a quick glance with Ororo, who simply shook her head. “We’ll see,” Ororo muttered, clearly skeptical.
Scott stepped forward, pointing to the screen. “And what about the rest of the team?”
You quickly pulled up the individual stats for everyone else, rattling off the scores. “Jean’s at 90, Ororo’s 92, and Scott—you’ve got a 95.”
Logan gave a low whistle, mock-impressed. “Look at you, Slim. Setting the curve.”
“Someone has to,” Scott replied dryly, but his tone lacked its usual sharpness. He turned back to you. “Good work, Y/N. At least someone here knows how to focus.”
Jean grinned. “She’s always focused. Unlike some people,” she said pointedly, glancing at Logan.
Logan smirked, unbothered as he straightened up. “Guess I’ll just have to make up for it next time.”
Scott opened his mouth to argue, but Ororo cut him off. “Let’s just take the feedback and move on. We’ll schedule another session next week.”
As the group began to disperse, Logan lingered by your side, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “You’re too nice to me, sweetheart.”
You hesitated, the faintest smile tugging at your lips. “Someone has to be.”
Logan smirked at your response, but before he could say anything else, he slid an arm around your shoulders, his touch uncharacteristically gentle as he guided you toward the exit. “C’mon, darlin’. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”
You stiffened slightly, your hand coming up to his chest as you gently pushed him away. “Logan—seriously?”
He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “What? Afraid someone’s gonna think we’re cozy or somethin’?”
“No,” you said firmly, stepping out of his reach. “I’m afraid of the fact that you’re sweaty and gross. I’m not getting anywhere near you until you shower.”
Logan laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that earned a chuckle from Jean and a loud groan from Scott. “Sweetheart, I’ve been through worse. Little sweat never killed anyone.”
“Maybe not,” you said, adjusting your glasses and flashing a rare smirk. “But it’s definitely killed my willingness to put up with you right now.”
Jean leaned casually against the doorway, her arms crossed as she watched the exchange. “She’s got a point, Logan. You’re a walking hazard zone.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Logan muttered, waving a dismissive hand. He threw one last glance at you before heading toward the door. “Fine. I’ll clean up. But don’t think this is over, sweetheart.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you replied dryly, turning back to the console to shut everything down.
---
The next week, as you were setting up the console for the simulation, Scott and Kitty came walking down the viewing deck hallway. “Come on,” Scott said, “you’re joining us this time. Kitty’ll take care of this.”
You raised your head from the screens and looked over at Scott, tilting your head. “You sure? I’m not exactly much help in the field.”
Scott crossed his arms, giving you a look that said he wasn’t buying your self-doubt. “You’re more capable than you think, Y/N. And we’re not giving you a choice this time. Kitty’s handling the tech, so suit up.”
You hesitated, glancing at Kitty, who gave you a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this,” she said, sliding into the chair you vacated. “Besides, it’ll be good for you. Logan’s always saying you need to get out of the lab more.”
“Does he now?” you murmured, adjusting your glasses. A small, nervous smile tugged at your lips as you looked back at Scott. “Okay, but only if you promise not to get annoyed if I mess up.”
Scott’s expression softened, and he nodded. “You won’t mess up. Just stick to the plan, and you’ll be fine.”
As the three of you headed down the hallway toward the locker rooms, Logan was leaning casually against the wall just outside, his arms crossed. His signature smirk appeared the second he saw you. “What’s this? Slim finally letting you outta your cage?”
You rolled your eyes, already feeling a little self-conscious. “It’s not like that, Logan.”
“Sure it’s not,” he drawled, falling into step beside you. “Guess this means I’ll have to keep an extra close eye on you, darlin’. Wouldn’t want you gettin’ hurt.”
“Or distracting anyone else,” Scott muttered under his breath.
Logan shot him a look, but you quickly intervened, your tone light but firm. “I’ll be fine. You don’t have to babysit me.”
Logan chuckled. “You say that now, but wait till the action starts.” He gave you a wink before heading off toward the men’s locker room.
Scott let out a long-suffering sigh. “Just… try not to encourage him.”
“I didn’t say anything!” you protested, your cheeks flushing.
“Yeah, but you smiled,” Scott replied, shaking his head as he disappeared into the locker room.
---
In the simulation room, the team gathered near the starting point. The scenario was a hostage rescue in a collapsing skyscraper, and Scott was already running through the plan with his usual precision. “Ororo and Jean will handle structural stabilization while Logan and I take point on the hostiles. Y/N, you’ll be with Logan.”
Logan’s smirk widened. “Figures. Slim knows who the real MVP is.”
Scott ignored him, turning his attention to you. “Your job is to focus on time manipulation to give us an edge. Slow things down where necessary, especially if Logan decides to... improvise.”
Jean coughed lightly, barely disguising a laugh. “You mean when Logan improvises.”
“Whatever works,” Logan said with a shrug. He glanced at you, his expression softening slightly. “You ready for this, sweetheart?”
You nodded, though the nerves were clear in your posture. “Yeah. I think so.”
Logan leaned in just enough to lower his voice. “Hey. You’ve got this. Just stick with me.”
You managed a small smile, adjusting your gloves. “Thanks.”
---
As the simulation began, chaos erupted almost immediately. Logan, true to form, charged ahead with reckless abandon, his claws slicing through holographic enemies like they were nothing. You stayed close, using your powers to slow time in bursts, giving him an edge whenever he veered too far from the plan.
“Logan, stick to your quadrant!” Scott’s voice barked over the comms.
“I’m stickin’ to it!” Logan shot back, even as he lunged into an adjacent zone. “Just takin’ the scenic route.”
“Scenic route?” you muttered, struggling to keep up with him. “You’re all over the place!”
Logan flashed you a grin over his shoulder. “That’s why you’re here, sweetheart. Keepin’ me in check.”
You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, but a part of you felt a flicker of pride. Despite his chaotic style, he trusted you to have his back.
As the simulation progressed, you found yourself falling into a rhythm with him. Whenever he rushed headfirst into a dangerous situation, you instinctively slowed time to give him the upper hand. He, in turn, would glance back to make sure you were safe, his protective instincts as sharp as his claws.
When the final wave of enemies fell and the simulation ended, Scott called the team to regroup. “Not bad,” he said, though his tone suggested he had plenty of notes. “We’ll review the footage and—”
“Hold up,” Logan interrupted, glancing at you. “How’d she do?”
Scott blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Y/N? She did well. Kept up with you, which is more than I can say for most people.”
Logan’s smirk returned. “Told ya she’s got it.”
You adjusted your glasses, your cheeks warming as Jean gave you an approving smile. “She definitely held her own. Maybe we should bring her along more often.”
Scott nodded reluctantly. “We’ll see. For now, let’s debrief.”
As the group started toward the viewing deck, Logan slowed his pace to walk beside you. He bumped your shoulder lightly, a rare softness in his tone. “Proud of you, darlin’. Told ya you’d do great.”
You glanced at him, a small smile breaking through your shyness. “Thanks. But I think we both know you’re the reason Scott’s hair is going to turn gray early.”
Logan laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Worth it.”
---
You let out a quiet groan in your sleep, twisting the thin sheet that barely covered you. The summer heat was relentless, and your room, like most of the older parts of the mansion, didn’t have air conditioning. Adding to your discomfort was Logan, who radiated heat like a furnace. Despite the oppressive warmth, his arm was slung lazily around your waist, anchoring you close.
Shifting slightly, you tried to peel yourself away without waking him, but his grip tightened instinctively. “Where d’you think you’re goin’, sweetheart?” Logan’s voice was rough with sleep, his words barely above a murmur.
“It’s too hot,” you whispered back, your voice tinged with a mix of fondness and exasperation. “You’re like a space heater.”
Logan let out a low chuckle, his breath warm against your neck. “Can’t help it. Comes with the claws and all.”
“You mean being insufferable comes with the claws?” you teased softly, attempting to squirm out from under his arm again.
He growled playfully, pulling you closer instead. “Watch it, darlin’. You’re startin’ to sound a lot like Slim.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips. “I mean it, Logan. I’m going to melt.”
Logan loosened his hold slightly, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at you. His hair was a mess, sticking up in every direction, and the faintest hint of a smirk played on his lips. “Guess I’ll have to cool you off, then.”
“Don’t even—” you started, but before you could finish, Logan leaned down and kissed you. The kiss was slow, deliberate, and entirely unfair in its ability to make you forget the heat. When he finally pulled back, his grin was infuriatingly smug.
“Still too hot?” he asked, his tone dripping with amusement.
You huffed, pushing his chest lightly. “You’re impossible.”
“Yeah, but you love me anyway,” he replied, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. His hand lingered, his thumb tracing the edge of your cheekbone.
Your cheeks warmed, though you blamed it on the heat. “I guess I do.”
Logan chuckled, the sound low and genuine, before he flopped back onto his pillow. “Go back to sleep, darlin’. I’ll try not to roast you alive.”
“Gee, thanks,” you muttered, though there was no real bite to your words. Settling back against him despite the heat, you allowed yourself to relax, his steady presence oddly comforting.
As you drifted off, Logan pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Night, sweetheart.”
---
You could bake and cook, but apparently, your skills weren’t exactly pro level. You huffed as you pulled out the pan of macaron shells, all of which were deflated, cracked, or just… sad. The vision of glossy, perfectly round macarons you'd had in your head? Nowhere to be found.
Logan, who had been lounging at the kitchen table flipping through a newspaper, looked up as you groaned in frustration. “What’s the problem, sweetheart?”
You held up the tray of macaron disasters like a defeated warrior displaying a broken weapon. “This is the problem. They’re supposed to be pretty and fluffy, not—whatever this is.” You gestured to the cracked, flat mess.
He squinted at them, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I don’t see the problem. They’re just cookies, right? Still edible.”
“They’re macarons, not cookies. They’re supposed to be delicate, with perfect little feet and smooth tops. This is a disaster,” you said dramatically, setting the tray down with a sigh.
Logan snorted, setting the newspaper aside. “Darlin’, you’re makin’ a big fuss over somethin’ that’s just gonna get eaten. I mean, they look fine to me.”
You gave him an incredulous look. “Fine? They look like they’ve been through a war.”
“Then they’ve got character,” he said, standing and walking over to you. He plucked one off the tray and popped it into his mouth before you could stop him.
“Logan!” you protested. “They’re not ready yet, and they probably taste—”
He raised a hand to silence you, chewing thoughtfully. “Huh. Not bad,” he said with a shrug. “Tastes like sugar.”
You narrowed your eyes at him, though you couldn’t help the slight twitch of a smile on your lips. “That’s because it’s basically just sugar and almond flour. But they’re not supposed to just taste good; they’re supposed to look good too.”
Logan leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching you fuss over the tray. “Seems like a waste of energy, worryin’ about somethin’ like that. Long as they taste good, who cares?”
“You don’t understand,” you said, shaking your head. “This was supposed to be impressive! Like, ‘look, everyone, I can make professional-grade macarons!’ impressive. Not, ‘here, enjoy these sad, sugary pancakes.’”
He laughed at that, the sound low and warm, and you glared at him halfheartedly. “I’m glad my baking failure amuses you.”
"Y/N, I’m serious. They’re fine. Hell, I bet they taste better than anything anyone else around here could make.”
Logan’s hands found your waist, and before you could protest, he effortlessly lifted you onto the counter. A surprised yelp escaped your lips as you steadied yourself, your hands instinctively gripping his shoulders.
“Logan!” You glared at him, though your annoyance was quickly melting under the warmth of his amused grin.
“What?” he asked innocently, leaning one hand on the counter next to you while his other stayed resting lightly on your knee. “Figured this was a good place for a pep talk. Y’know, eye level and all that.”
You shook your head, exasperated but unable to hold back a smile. “You’re impossible.”
“Maybe,” he said with a small shrug, his smirk softening as he looked at you. “But you’re sittin’ here beatin’ yourself up over somethin’ stupid when you’ve got no reason to.”
“They’re not stupid, Logan. They’re macarons,” you insisted, crossing your arms in mock defiance.
He chuckled, the sound low and warm, as he stepped closer. “Y/N, you’re sweatin’ the small stuff. You could burn dinner, and everyone’d still eat it without complainin’—myself included. But these? They’re fine. And you wanna know why?”
“Why?” you asked warily, narrowing your eyes at him.
“’Cause you made ’em,” Logan said simply, his voice quieter now. “You put in the work, and that means somethin’. Might not be perfect, but hell, nothin’ ever is.”
The sincerity in his tone made your cheeks flush. You tried to look away, but his hand was already reaching up to brush a stray piece of hair behind your ear.
“You’re too nice to me,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Not nice,” he said with a smirk. “Just honest.”
Before you could come up with a witty response, Logan leaned in, his lips brushing yours softly. His kiss was unhurried, filled with the same steady warmth that he always seemed to carry. You melted into it, forgetting for a moment about the tray of failed macarons still sitting on the counter.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested gently against yours, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “Still feelin’ like a failure?”
You bit your lip, trying not to smile. “Maybe a little.”
Logan raised an eyebrow. “Guess I’ll just have to keep convincin’ you.”
“Logan,” you started, but he didn’t give you a chance to finish. In one swift motion, he scooped you up and threw you over his shoulder.
A startled laugh bubbled out of you as you smacked his back lightly. “Logan! Put me down!”
“Not a chance, darlin’,” he said, his tone filled with teasing amusement as he strode toward the door. “You need some fresh air. Maybe if I walk you around a bit, you’ll quit stressin’ over those sugar pancakes.”
“They’re macarons!” you corrected, your laughter echoing through the hallway as he carried you out of the kitchen.
“Whatever they are, they’re fine,” Logan said firmly, his hand resting against the back of your thigh to steady you. “And you’re gonna see that—after I get you outta this mansion for a bit.”
You let out a resigned sigh, though the smile on your face betrayed any attempt at irritation. “Fine. But you’re carrying me back if I don’t feel better.”
“Deal,” he replied, his grin widening as he turned the corner, earning a few amused glances from passing students.
As you hung over his shoulder, your heart felt lighter. Maybe your macarons weren’t perfect, but with Logan by your side, it hardly seemed to matter.
---
You walked out of the bathroom, towel-drying your damp hair as you adjusted the straps of your light blue silk nightgown. It was new—something you had picked up during a recent mall trip with Jean and some of the kids. You weren’t entirely sure what had possessed you to buy it, but Jean had insisted it was ‘perfect’ for summer, and you figured she was probably right. Now, as the smooth fabric clung lightly to your skin, you found yourself feeling just a little self-conscious.
Logan was sprawled on the bed, one leg hanging off the edge, his back propped against the headboard. A notebook was in his hand, and his brow furrowed slightly in concentration as he sketched something on the page. His expression was uncharacteristically relaxed, a rare sight that made your heart clench.
He looked up as you stepped into the room, his gaze lingering for a beat longer than usual. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and warm. His eyes flicked over you briefly, and though he didn’t comment, the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
“Hey,” you replied softly, padding over to the bed and sitting on the edge near him. You glanced curiously at the notebook in his hand. “What are you working on?”
Logan tilted the book slightly, as if debating whether to show you. “Nothin’ much. Just passin’ the time.”
Your curiosity deepened as you caught a glimpse of pencil strokes and shading. “Can I see?” you asked, tilting your head.
He hesitated for a moment before shrugging. “Yeah, sure.” He shifted to sit up straighter, his arm brushing yours as he handed you the notebook. “Don’t laugh.”
“Why would I laugh?” you asked, smiling softly as you took the notebook. Logan adjusted his position, his hands resting lightly on your waist as he guided you onto his lap, the warmth of him seeping through the thin fabric of your nightgown. Your back pressed against his chest as you settled in, the notebook resting on your knees.
The first drawing you saw took your breath away. It was a detailed sketch of the mansion’s garden, the shading capturing the way the sunlight filtered through the trees. The perspective was flawless, each flower and blade of grass rendered with care. “Logan, this is amazing,” you murmured, your fingers lightly tracing the edges of the page.
He huffed a quiet laugh against your shoulder. “Didn’t peg me for an artist, huh?”
“I didn’t know you could draw like this,” you admitted, flipping to the next page. This one was a portrait—a student from the mansion, laughing mid-conversation. It was so vivid you almost expected the image to move.
Logan’s hands tightened slightly on your waist as you turned the pages, each one revealing another sketch: Ororo standing by the lake, Jean mid-training, even Scott adjusting his visor. And then you stopped. The next drawing was of you.
It wasn’t posed or polished like the others. It was you caught in an unguarded moment, sitting cross-legged on the mansion steps with a book in your lap. Your hair was loosely tied back, and your glasses perched on the bridge of your nose as you absentmindedly twirled a pen in your fingers. Logan had captured every detail, right down to the faint curve of your lips.
You blinked, unsure what to say, the heat rushing to your cheeks. “You—this is me.”
“Yeah,” Logan said simply, his voice quieter now. “Figured you’d catch on.”
You turned to glance at him, your breath hitching at the way his eyes softened as they met yours. “It’s… beautiful,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
Logan smirked, but there was something tender in his expression. “Guess I got the subject right, then.”
Your heart skipped a beat, and you turned back to the sketch, feeling his chin rest lightly on your shoulder. As you flipped through the remaining pages, you caught more glimpses of yourself—small moments you didn’t even realize he’d noticed. Sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea, laughing at something off-camera, standing by the window as the morning light spilled in. Each one was intimate, raw, and filled with a kind of reverence that left you speechless.
As you paused on another drawing, the strap of your nightgown slipped down your shoulder. Logan’s hand moved almost instinctively, his fingers brushing your skin as he gently slid the strap back into place. The touch was so casual, so natural, that it barely registered—but the warmth lingered.
“Didn’t mean to embarrass you,” Logan said softly, his voice low against your ear.
“You didn’t,” you replied, though your cheeks betrayed you. “I just didn’t realize you… paid attention like this.”
“’Course I do,” he said, his tone gruff but sincere. “You’re worth payin’ attention to, darlin’.”
The weight of his words settled over you, and you leaned back against him, letting the quiet reassurance of his presence wash over you. “Thank you,” you said softly, your fingers brushing the edge of the notebook. “For this. For… seeing me.”
Logan pressed a kiss to your temple, his stubble grazing your skin. “Always.”
---
The room hummed with quiet tension as the group gathered in the briefing room. Scott stood at the head of the table, his sharp, no-nonsense demeanor firmly in place as he laid out the mission details. Jean sat beside him, her fingers laced neatly in her lap, while Ororo leaned back in her chair with an air of calm focus. Bobby and Kitty exchanged a few quiet words, their confidence steady despite the high stakes.
Logan sat beside you, his hand resting casually on your thigh under the table. To the others, it probably looked like a typical display of Logan's relaxed attitude—or as relaxed as he ever got. To you, it was anything but casual. His fingers were warm and slightly calloused, a steady presence that grounded you as Scott’s voice went on about tactical points and contingency plans.
“We’re infiltrating a research facility,” Scott said, gesturing to the holographic map projected above the table. “The main goal is retrieving this.” He tapped a button, and the image shifted to a glowing USB drive. “It’s encrypted with data on mutant experiments. We need it to understand what they’re planning. The defenses will be heavy, and we’ll have limited time.”
Scott turned his gaze toward you, and your stomach flipped. “You’ll be in charge of getting the drive. The rest of us will keep the guards distracted. Once you have it, get to the Blackbird as quickly as possible. No detours, no delays. Understood?”
You nodded, twirling the pen in your hand as you absorbed the weight of your task. “Understood.”
Logan shifted beside you. Though he hadn’t said anything yet, you could feel the tension rolling off him. His thumb absentmindedly brushed over the fabric of your pants, a barely-there motion that sent shivers up your spine.
“Good,” Scott continued. “Logan, Jean, Ororo, and I will handle the main group of guards. Bobby and Kitty, you’re with us on crowd control. Everyone stick to the plan.”
As the meeting wrapped up, Logan finally spoke. “You sure she’s going in alone?” His voice was gruff, his eyes fixed on Scott. The unspoken I don’t like this hung heavy in the air.
“She can handle it,” Scott replied without missing a beat. “We wouldn’t assign her this role if she couldn’t.”
Logan’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue further. Instead, his hand squeezed your thigh gently before he pulled it away, as if reminding you that he was there, even if he didn’t agree with the plan.
---
The mission started smoothly. The team split up as planned, with Logan, Scott, Jean, Ororo, Bobby, and Kitty engaging the guards near the facility’s entrance. Meanwhile, you slipped into the building, your footsteps light as you navigated the sterile hallways.
The hum of fluorescent lights and the faint beeping of machinery filled the space. You kept your breathing steady, relying on your time manipulation to slow your perception of movement, giving yourself more control and awareness. It was a skill you’d honed over time, though it still required focus. You reached the central lab and quickly spotted the USB drive Scott had shown during the briefing. It was locked inside a glass case.
“Piece of cake,” you whispered to yourself, pulling out a small device. The gadget made quick work of the lock, and with a soft hiss, the case opened. You grabbed the drive, tucking it securely into the pouch on your belt.
As you turned to leave, you heard footsteps approaching from the hall. Instinctively, you reached out with your powers, halting time in the immediate area. The world around you froze: the footsteps, the hum of lights, even the faint sway of papers on a desk. Moving quickly, you exited the lab, retracing your steps until you reached a side door leading to the facility's exterior. Only then did you release your hold on time, letting it snap back into motion as if nothing had happened.
You broke into a run, heading for the Blackbird as planned. The others would be close behind once they finished with the guards. The night air was cool against your skin as you darted across the open space between the facility and the jet.
---
Logan stood amidst the chaos at the entrance. His claws slashed through another guard as Scott barked orders to hold the line. Jean and Ororo flanked him, their powers keeping waves of reinforcements at bay. It was going fine. Almost too fine.
Until Logan heard voices over the comms—the crackling radio chatter of guards somewhere outside the perimeter, and then the faint sound of footsteps heading toward the Blackbird.
His chest tightened. He didn’t think. He just moved.
"Logan, where the hell are you going?" Scott shouted over the din.
“Something’s off,” Logan growled, already bolting from the fight.
“We’re not done here!” Scott’s voice crackled in Logan’s earpiece, but Logan ripped it out, tossing it aside. He wasn’t going to lose you. Not again.
---
You’d just reached the Blackbird, your hand resting on the ramp control, when Logan appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. His breath came in harsh pants, and his eyes darted around, scanning the tree line for threats.
“Logan?” you asked, your brow furrowing as you lowered your hand. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be with the team.”
“They were handling it fine,” he said gruffly, his claws still out as he moved to stand in front of you like a shield. "Heard movement. Thought maybe they were gunnin' for you."
You stared at him, your confusion giving way to frustration. “You thought—Logan, I’m fine. The plan worked. I got the drive. I was already here.”
He turned to face you fully, his jaw tight and his eyes burning with a mix of anger and fear. “You think I’m just gonna sit back while you’re out here alone? Anything could’ve happened!”
“I can handle myself,” you shot back, your voice sharp but steady. “That’s why Scott trusted me with this part of the mission. You should’ve stayed with the team.”
Logan took a step closer, his presence overwhelming as always. “You don’t get it,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Every damn time... I lose you. Every time. And I can’t—” He broke off, dragging a hand through his hair, the claws retracting with a soft snikt.
Your frustration faltered, replaced by confusion. “What do you mean, ‘every time’? Logan, what are you talking about?”
He looked at you, something raw and vulnerable in his eyes. “I’ve lost you before, Y/N. More times than I can count. Doesn’t matter if it’s this life or another—I lose you. Always. And I can’t go through that again.”
You blinked, your mind reeling. His words didn’t make sense. “Logan—”
The sound of the others approaching cut you off. The rest of the team appeared, battered but victorious, and the moment between you and Logan was shattered. He stepped back, his usual mask sliding into place as he moved to help Scott secure the ramp.
But you couldn’t shake his words. You couldn’t shake the look in his eyes.
---
The flight back to the mansion was quiet and, thankfully, short. As Ororo and Scott expertly landed the jet, Bobby and Kitty were the first off, eager to escape the tension that hung in the air. They exchanged a few hushed words and hurried down the ramp, their footsteps echoing into the still night.
You unbuckled your seatbelt and stood, adjusting your glasses and stretching your legs. Logan was already up, his movements deliberate as he waited for the others to disembark. Jean followed Scott down the ramp, her hand brushing lightly against his arm as they spoke in low voices. Ororo trailed behind them, her gaze calm but perceptive, always attuned to the undercurrents of emotion in the group.
Scott stopped at the base of the ramp, his expression tight as he turned back toward Logan. “We need to talk,” he said, his voice clipped.
Logan leaned casually against one of the seats, his arms crossed. “Sure,” he replied, his tone dismissive. “Later.”
Scott’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t press the issue. Instead, he motioned for Jean and Ororo to follow him, and the three disappeared into the mansion, leaving you and Logan alone on the Blackbird.
You stayed near your seat, unsure whether to move or wait. Logan’s gaze flicked toward you, his expression softening as he stepped closer. His hand reached out, fingers brushing your wrist before he wrapped them around it gently.
“C’mere,” he said, his voice low but firm.
You allowed him to lead you to the far corner of the jet, away from the open ramp. Once there, he released your wrist but didn’t step back, his proximity sending a rush of warmth through you.
“What was that back there?” you asked, your voice steady despite the lingering tension. “Why did you leave the team to come after me? I was fine, Logan.”
He didn’t answer right away. His hands rested on his hips, his head bowing slightly as if searching for the right words. Finally, he looked up, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.
“You don’t get it,” he said, his tone gruff. “This ain’t just about the mission. It’s about you. I can’t just sit around and hope for the best when you’re out there, Y/N. Not after—” He stopped himself, his jaw clenching as he dragged a hand through his hair.
“Not after what?” you pressed, stepping closer. “Logan, what are you not telling me?”
He hesitated, his eyes scanning your face as if weighing whether to pull you into his truth. Finally, with a quiet sigh, he took a step back and leaned against the wall of the jet, his arms crossing over his chest.
“I’ve lost you before,” he admitted, his voice quieter now but no less raw. “Not just once. Over and over. Five times, to be exact.”
You frowned, confusion swirling in your mind. “Lost me? What are you talking about? I’ve only known you for—”
Logan’s gaze didn’t waver. “Not in this life. In others. You don’t remember, but I do.” He paused, his hands gripping the edge of the wall as if steadying himself. “Every time, I meet you. Every time, we get close. And every damn time, I lose you. To sickness, accidents, war... something always takes you from me.”
You blinked, the weight of his words pressing against your chest. “That doesn’t make sense. Logan, I don’t—”
“I know it sounds crazy,” he interrupted, his voice rising slightly before softening again. “But it’s the truth. The second I met you here, I knew. I’ve known you in ways I can’t explain. And now that I’ve got you in this life, I’ll be damned if I let anything happen to you.”
Your heart ached at the raw emotion in his voice, but it also raced with doubt and confusion. Logan’s words stirred something deep within you—a sense of recognition that you couldn’t explain, like catching the edge of a forgotten dream. But as much as your emotions pulled you toward him, your rational mind resisted.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “Logan, I’m not saying you’re lying, but you’re telling me you’ve known me in other lifetimes? That’s not… possible.”
“It’s the truth, darlin’,” Logan said softly, his voice steady despite the weight of his admission. He leaned back against the wall, his posture deceptively relaxed while his eyes never left yours. “You can twist the logic all you want, but I know what I’ve lived through. And I know you.”
You shook your head, your mind racing to reconcile his certainty with everything you understood about the universe. “I’m a scientist, Logan. Time, space, the way life and death work… it doesn’t leave room for things like this.” You paused, searching for the words. “I mean, even if something like reincarnation were possible, how would you remember? How would you—” You stopped yourself, a lump forming in your throat as you thought of the weight he carried in his words. “Why would you remember and not me?”
Logan sighed, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t have all the answers. Hell, I don’t even know why my memories are so damn broken, but I know this much: every time I see you, it’s like some part of me snaps into place. Doesn’t matter how the rest of my life’s a blur—you’re the one thing that sticks. You always do.”
You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. The sincerity in his tone, the desperation in his eyes—it was undeniable. And yet, your logical mind clung to disbelief.
“What do you remember?” you asked after a long pause, your voice quieter now. “About me? About… us?”
Logan’s jaw worked for a moment as he considered your question. “Everything,” he said finally. “The way you laugh, the way you think too much and then laugh about that. The way you’ve always got your nose in a book or a project that’s way over my head. And the way you look at me—like you see something good in me even when I don’t.”
Your breath hitched, and you pushed your glasses up your nose as you looked away, your cheeks burning. “That’s just how I am,” you mumbled, trying to deflect the heat of his gaze.
“Maybe,” Logan said, his voice softer now, almost tender. “But it’s always you, sweetheart. Doesn’t matter if you’re shy like now or bold like before. You’re still you.”
You hesitated, your mind a storm of contradictions. “If what you’re saying is true,” you said carefully, “then why don’t I remember? Why would I just… forget all of that?”
“I don’t know,” Logan admitted, stepping closer to you. He didn’t touch you this time, but his presence was steady and grounding, like the weight of his hand had been earlier. “But does it matter? You’re here now. And so am I.”
You didn’t know what to say. The logical part of you screamed to question him further, to demand proof or push back against the impossibility of his claims. But another part of you—the part that had always felt an unspoken connection to him, the part that trusted him without question—wanted to believe.
Before you could respond, a distant voice called out from the mansion grounds, cutting through the stillness. Logan’s eyes flicked toward the open ramp of the Blackbird, his jaw tightening briefly before his gaze returned to you.
“We’ll talk more later,” he said, his voice low and resolute. “I’m not lettin’ this go, Y/N. Not this time.”
You swallowed hard, nodding despite the turmoil inside you. Logan lingered a moment longer, his eyes searching yours as if memorizing every detail, before he turned and headed toward the ramp.
You stood there, rooted in place, your thoughts tangled and chaotic. If what Logan said was true, it changed everything. But even if it wasn’t, the weight of his words—and the look in his eyes—told you one thing: Logan wasn’t going to let you slip away. Not now, not ever.
---
That night, you found yourself lingering outside Jean and Scott’s room, hesitant but resolute. You raised a hand to knock, but paused, second-guessing. Before you could lose your nerve, you rapped softly on the door. It opened after a moment, Scott standing there with a questioning look. Behind him, Jean was tidying up near the dresser, her head tilting curiously at the sight of you.
“Hey, Y/N,” Scott said, his tone polite but guarded after the mission. “Everything okay?”
You glanced past him at Jean, then shifted back to Scott. “I was wondering if I could talk to Jean alone for a minute,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.
Scott’s brow furrowed, but he stepped back with a small nod. “Sure.” He looked over his shoulder. “I’ll be in the common room,” he told Jean, his tone softening before he passed you a quick glance and exited the room.
Jean came over, her posture open and inviting as she gestured for you to come in. “What’s going on?” she asked, closing the door behind you.
You hesitated for a beat before finding your words. “I just… I needed to talk to someone. About Logan.”
Jean’s eyebrows lifted, her expression curious but understanding. She moved to sit on the edge of the bed, gesturing for you to take the chair by the desk. “Alright,” she said, her voice calm. “What’s on your mind?”
You sat down, folding your hands tightly in your lap. “He told me something today. Something… huge. And I don’t know what to do with it.”
Jean’s gaze sharpened slightly. “Is it about the mission?”
You shook your head quickly. “No. It’s… personal.” You hesitated, chewing on your lip before continuing. “He said he’s known me before. In other lives.”
Jean blinked, her posture stiffening slightly. “Other lives?”
“Yeah.” You let out a shaky breath, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions inside you. “He said we’ve met before—five times. That every time, we…” You swallowed hard, the words catching in your throat. “Every time, I die. And he remembers everything.”
Jean was quiet for a long moment, her eyes searching your face as she processed what you’d said. “And you don’t… remember any of this?” she asked gently.
“No,” you admitted, your voice cracking slightly. “And I don’t even know if it’s true. But the way he said it, Jean—it wasn’t just some story. It felt real. He believes it.”
Jean nodded slowly, her expression contemplative. “Logan’s been through a lot. And his memories—or the gaps in them—are complicated.” She tilted her head. “Did he say why he remembers you specifically?”
You hesitated, recalling his words on the jet. “He said… I’m the only thing that sticks. That everything else is a blur, but not me.”
Jean’s expression softened, and she leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on her knees. “Y/N, I don’t know if I can explain why Logan feels this way. But I do know he doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean. If he told you this, it’s because he believes it with everything he has.”
“That’s what scares me,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Because what if he’s right? What if there’s this… this whole part of me that I don’t even know exists?”
Jean reached out, placing a comforting hand on your arm. “Maybe there is. Or maybe this is just Logan’s way of processing his feelings for you. Either way, it doesn’t change who you are right now. You’re Y/N. The person we know, the person Logan clearly…” She trailed off, smiling faintly. “Clearly cares about.”
You looked down, your cheeks burning. “It’s just a lot to take in.”
Jean squeezed your arm gently. “I get that. But you don’t have to figure it all out tonight. Just take it one step at a time.”
You nodded, grateful for her steady presence. “Thanks, Jean. I needed this.”
“Anytime,” she said warmly. “And if you need someone to talk to again, I’m here.”
---
Meanwhile, in the common room, Logan sat slouched on the couch, a glass of whiskey resting on the table in front of him. His gaze was fixed on the darkened fireplace, his thoughts far away. He barely registered the sound of the door opening until Charles wheeled into the room.
“You look troubled,” Charles observed, his voice calm but perceptive as always.
Logan didn’t turn, his jaw tightening. “Not in the mood for a lecture, Chuck.”
“I wasn’t planning to give you one,” Charles said, stopping his chair beside the couch. “But I can tell something’s weighing on you.”
Logan huffed out a breath, finally glancing at him. “You ever feel like you’re living the same nightmare on repeat?”
Charles regarded him thoughtfully. “I’ve certainly seen my share of patterns in life. But I suspect you’re referring to something far more personal.”
Logan’s lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s Y/N,” he said finally. “She doesn’t know it, but… I’ve met her before. Five times, in different lives.”
Charles tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. “And you remember all of this?”
“Every damn detail,” Logan muttered, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I can’t explain it, but it’s like she’s the one thing I can’t forget. Even after Weapon X, when they wiped everything else—she stuck.”
Charles was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. “And you told her this?”
Logan nodded, his jaw clenching. “She thinks I’m nuts. Can’t say I blame her.”
“Perhaps not,” Charles said gently. “But if what you’re saying is true, then Y/N’s presence in your life may have a purpose beyond what either of you understand.”
Logan let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, if it’s got a purpose, it sure as hell ain’t been kind. Every time I get close to her, I lose her. And I can’t do it again, Charles. I won’t.”
Charles placed a hand on Logan’s arm, his touch steady and grounding. “Whatever the truth may be, you have an opportunity now. She’s here, Logan. Focus on that. Focus on this moment.”
Logan exhaled deeply, his shoulders slumping. “Easier said than done.”
Charles smiled faintly. “Perhaps. But you’re not alone in this.”
Logan nodded reluctantly, his gaze returning to the fireless hearth. Despite the weight of his memories and fears, one thought remained constant: he wasn’t letting you go. Not this time.
---
The days after Logan's confession were a strange blend of tension and normalcy. One evening, as the mansion settled into its usual calm, you found yourself wandering outside. The garden was quiet, illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. You wrapped your arms around yourself, the crisp air biting at your skin as you walked aimlessly, your thoughts tangled.
You were startled when Logan's deep voice broke through the quiet. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.”
You turned to find him leaning against a tree, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp. He was dressed in his usual leather jacket, the faint scent of smoke and pine lingering in the air around him.
“I needed some air,” you said softly.
Logan pushed off the tree, closing the distance between you in a few long strides. “Yeah, well, you know how it gets around here. Safer not to wander too far.”
You raised an eyebrow. “You mean safer from the squirrels? Or the mutant squirrels?”
That earned you the faintest twitch of a smile. “Both.”
The silence between you stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. You looked up at the sky, the stars scattered like glitter across the inky blackness. Logan stood beside you, his gaze fixed on you instead of the view.
Finally, you broke the quiet. “I’ve been thinking about what you told me.”
Logan’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t interrupt.
“I don’t know if I believe in reincarnation or destiny or any of that,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But… I believe you. I can’t explain why, but I do.”
Logan’s shoulders relaxed slightly, though his expression remained guarded. “You don’t have to believe it. Hell, half the time I wish it wasn’t true.”
You turned to face him fully, searching his face. “Why?”
His gaze flicked away, his mouth pressing into a hard line. “Because it’s a curse, Y/N. Every time I get you back, the universe rips you away. I can’t go through it again. I won’t.”
You stepped closer, your heart pounding in your chest. “Logan… I’m here now. Whatever happened before, it’s not happening now. I’m alive. I’m me.”
His eyes met yours, a storm of emotions swirling in them—fear, longing, and something deeper, raw and unspoken. “You say that now, but it doesn’t change what’s coming. You don’t know what it’s like to watch someone you—” He cut himself off, his voice breaking.
You reached out, your hand brushing his arm. “Then tell me. Help me understand.”
Logan stared at you for a long moment, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. Then, without warning, he closed the space between you, his hands gently but firmly gripping your shoulders. His voice was low, almost desperate. “You’re the only thing that’s ever felt real to me. Everything else gets taken, erased, twisted—but you… You’re the one thing they can’t touch. And I don’t know how to protect you without losing you.”
Your heart ached at his words, the weight of his pain pressing down on you. You covered his hands with yours, grounding him. “Then stop trying to protect me from something that hasn’t happened. Stop living in the past or the future and just… be here with me.”
His grip loosened slightly, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “Y/N…”
You shook your head, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “We’ll figure it out together. Okay?”
Logan exhaled a shaky breath, his forehead lowering to rest against yours. “Okay.”
The two of you stood there, the world around you fading into the background. For the first time in a long while, Logan allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, this time could be different.
---
He sat on the edge of the bed, the small jewelry box in his hand open as he looked at the ring he’s had for almost two centuries.
The door to Logan’s room creaked open as you stepped inside, balancing two plates in your hands. The smell of freshly baked lemon scones lingered in the air, and a small smile played on your lips as you made your way over to him.
“Breakfast in bed isn’t your usual thing,” Logan teased, his tone warm as his eyes followed you across the room.
You shrugged, setting the plates down on the bedside table. “First time for everything, right? Besides, I wanted to try making these.”
Logan arched a brow, feigning suspicion. “Scones, huh? What’s the catch?”
“No catch,” you said with a small laugh, sitting down on the bed beside him. “Just a lot of flour, butter, and a very questionable amount of zesting.” His lips twitched, but you caught the way his hand subtly slid into his jacket pocket. You raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”
“Nothing,” he said quickly, leaning over to snag a scone off one of the plates. “These smell good.”
You narrowed your eyes, suspicion flickering in your expression, but decided to let it go—for now. “They’re lemon scones. First time making them. I figured I’d test them out on you.”
“Guinea pig, huh?” Logan bit into the scone, chewing thoughtfully. After a moment, he nodded. “Not bad. A little tart, but good.”
Your shoulders relaxed, relief washing over you. “Tart? I thought I added enough sugar…”
“It’s fine, darlin’. I like it.” He smirked, breaking off another piece. “Guess this means I’m stuck with being your taste tester now.”
You grinned, picking up your own scone. “You’ve survived worse.”
Logan chuckled, his laughter low and rumbling, as the two of you ate in comfortable silence. The summer sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. It was a quiet moment, one that felt oddly normal amidst the chaos of life at the mansion.
As you set your plate back on the table, you caught Logan watching you. His gaze was steady, but there was something behind it—an intensity that made your cheeks heat.
“What?” you asked softly, brushing a crumb off your lip.
“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head with a small smile. “Just thinking.”
“About?”
Logan leaned back, his arm draping across the headboard as he studied you. “How you’re the best part of this place.”
You froze, your heart skipping a beat. “Logan…”
“I mean it.” His voice was quieter now, more serious. “This place, the people—it’s good, but you? You make it feel like home.”
Your face warmed, and you looked down, suddenly shy. “You’re just saying that because I made you scones.”
He reached over, his hand gently tipping your chin up so your eyes met his. “Nah. It’s not the scones.”
The moment lingered, heavy with unspoken words. Logan’s thumb brushed your jaw before he pulled back, clearing his throat. “So, what’s the plan for the rest of the day?”
You blinked, still recovering from the softness of his touch. “Um… I don’t know. I was thinking about working on a project, but…” You hesitated. “It’s summer break. I guess I could take a day off.”
Logan’s lips quirked into a grin. “A whole day off? Guess miracles do happen.”
You rolled your eyes, grabbing a pillow and lightly swatting him with it. “Don’t push your luck.”
He laughed, the sound rich and genuine, and for a moment, you forgot about the world outside this room. It was just you and Logan, caught in a bubble of warmth and quiet understanding.
But as he reached into his pocket to absently fiddle with the small box, his expression turned thoughtful again. Logan didn’t know how to bring it up—or if he should. All he knew was that someday soon, he’d have to decide. Not if, but when.
---
Your goggles sat on top of your head, the red indent from the frame pressing into your skin as you scribbled furiously in your notebook. Equations sprawled across the pages in a chaotic but purposeful mess. The lab was quiet except for the soft hum of machinery and the faint scratch of your pen against the paper. You were so focused on your work that you didn’t hear Logan come in.
You jumped slightly when you felt his arms wrap around you from behind, his hands resting lightly on your waist. His voice rumbled close to your ear. “You’ve been holed up in here for hours, darlin’.”
“Logan!” you exclaimed, a blush rising to your cheeks. “You scared me.”
His lips curved into a grin against your neck as he pressed a soft kiss to your skin. “Didn’t mean to. What’s got you so wrapped up you didn’t even hear me?”
You relaxed against him, your hands stilling over your notebook. “I’m working on this project—trying to calculate temporal fluctuations in the presence of quantum anomalies. Basically, seeing how external variables could impact time distortion…”
Logan hummed, his lips grazing the side of your neck as he spoke. “Sounds complicated.”
“It’s not that complicated,” you said, your voice picking up with excitement as you began to explain. “The idea is that time manipulation isn’t linear—it’s like... imagine a fabric, but instead of pulling it straight, you twist and fold it. That’s where the anomalies come from. If I can track the changes in—” You cut off with a startled laugh as he kissed the sensitive spot below your ear. “Logan!”
“Keep talkin’,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. His arms tightened slightly, swaying the two of you gently side to side. “I’m listenin’.”
Your blush deepened, but you continued, trying to keep your thoughts straight despite the warmth of his lips trailing along your neck. “If I can track the changes in the energy fields… I might be able to stabilize them. Or at least predict when an event could disrupt—Logan!”
He turned you around, his hands still resting on your hips as he gave you a lopsided grin. “You’ve got no idea how good you look in a lab coat, do you?”
Your mouth opened, then closed as you searched for a response. “It’s… just a lab coat.”
Logan chuckled, his hands sliding to rest on the small of your back. “Not the way you wear it, sweetheart.”
You pushed lightly against his chest, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed your attempt at indignation. “Are you just here to distract me?”
“Maybe.” His grin softened into something more tender as his eyes held yours. “Or maybe I wanted to see my girl.”
Your breath hitched slightly at the way he said it, so casual but so full of affection. “Well, I’m flattered,” you teased, your voice quieter now. “Even if you’re trying to derail my research.”
Logan leaned down, his forehead brushing yours as his hand came up to cup your cheek. “You’re always workin’ so hard. Someone’s gotta remind you to take a break.”
You softened, your arms looping loosely around his neck. “Is that your job now?”
“Damn right it is,” he murmured before closing the small gap between you and capturing your lips in a kiss. It was slow and deliberate, and when he pulled back just enough to whisper against your lips, you could hear the smirk in his voice. “Still wearin’ that cherry lip gloss, huh?”
Your laugh was breathless. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”
“Hard not to,” he admitted, kissing you again, this time deeper, as if he were memorizing the taste. When he pulled back, his thumb brushed over your cheek. “Guess it’s my new favorite.”
Your head tilted slightly, curiosity flickering across your face. “What was your old favorite?”
Logan chuckled, his arms tightening around you as he started to sway the two of you again. “Haven’t had one ‘til now.”
You couldn’t help but laugh, leaning into him as the tension from your work melted away. Logan always had a way of grounding you, reminding you that life didn’t have to be so complicated all the time. For now, you let yourself forget about time anomalies and equations, losing yourself in the warmth of his embrace and the way his lips brushed against yours again, soft and unhurried.
---
Usually, you were a light sleeper. The smallest sound—a creak in the floorboards, the subtle hum of the air conditioner kicking on—would have you stirring. But ever since you and Logan started sleeping in the same bed, whether it was his room or yours, you were out like a light the moment your head hit the pillow. It was as if some part of you instinctively knew you were safe, tucked against his warmth, lulled by the steady rhythm of his breathing.
It gave Logan a chance to test something he'd been thinking about for weeks.
The small velvet box sat on the nightstand on his side of the bed, just out of your line of sight. He had stared at it countless nights, his mind torn between the weight of what it meant and the comfort it brought him. That ring had traveled with him through lifetimes, through hell and back. It was the only constant in his pocket, a piece of the past he hadn’t been able to let go of.
And now, there you were again, lying beside him, so close he could hear your soft, even breaths. The moonlight streaming through the window glinted off your glasses, which sat folded on the bedside table. You looked peaceful, serene. He hated to disturb you, but the thought wouldn’t leave him alone.
He reached over slowly, careful not to jostle the bed, and picked up the box. His fingers hesitated on the lid. This wasn’t a proposal. Not yet. It was just... curiosity.
The lid opened with a soft click, revealing the simple yet elegant band. It had been forged in a different era, but it felt timeless, like you. He carefully pulled the ring out and turned it over in his hand, the faintest smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as he looked at you.
“Still sleepin’ like a rock,” he murmured under his breath. “Guess that’s new.”
You shifted slightly, your hand sliding out from under the pillow. Logan froze, waiting. When you didn’t stir again, he carefully took your hand, marveling at how delicate it felt in his rough, calloused one.
His thumb brushed over your knuckles, a pang of something bittersweet pulling at him. He slipped the ring onto your finger, holding his breath as it slid snugly into place.
It fit.
Logan’s chest tightened. It wasn’t just the way the ring looked—though it looked like it had been made for you, shining faintly in the moonlight. It was what it meant. A promise he hadn’t been able to keep five times before.
He lingered for a moment, his thumb brushing over your hand before he carefully slipped the ring off again and placed it back in the box. Closing it, he set it back on the nightstand and leaned down, pressing a featherlight kiss to your temple.
“Soon,” he whispered, his voice rough and low.
You stirred, your eyes fluttering open just enough to catch his face close to yours. "Logan?" you murmured sleepily.
“Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face.
You hummed in contentment, your eyes closing again as you snuggled closer. “Mmm... okay.”
Logan wrapped an arm around you, pulling you against him. For now, he could wait. There was no rush. He just needed to take it one day at a time.
---
The cool summer breeze ruffled your hair as you leaned back against Logan’s shoulder, his arm wrapped loosely around your waist. The two of you were perched on the roof of the mansion, a favorite spot for quiet nights away from the chaos of the team. Above, the stars blinked faintly against the dark canvas of the night sky.
You closed Cloud Atlas with a soft thump and set it aside. Logan glanced over from where he was sketching in his notebook.
“Ya done with it?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.
“Yeah,” you replied, stretching your legs out in front of you. “It was... alright. Kind of disjointed but interesting.”
Logan chuckled, a sound that sent warmth straight to your chest. “Figures. You and your ‘I have to finish every book I start’ thing, darlin’.”
You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway. “It’s called commitment, Logan.”
“Uh-huh.” He smirked, setting his notebook down. “Speaking of commitment...” He leaned over, reaching into the small bag he’d brought up to the roof.
You raised an eyebrow as he pulled out a book wrapped in brown paper. “What’s that?”
“Somethin’ you’ve been wantin’,” he said, handing it to you.
Curiosity sparked, you unwrapped it carefully, your eyes lighting up when the title was revealed: The Fabric of the Cosmos: Space, Time, and the Texture of Reality.
“Logan!” you gasped, running your fingers over the cover. “I’ve been looking for this everywhere! How did you—?”
“Course I remembered,” he interrupted smoothly, a smug grin tugging at his lips. “Wouldn’t forget somethin’ that makes you light up like that.”
Your cheeks warmed as you ducked your head, shy but unable to hide your smile. “Thank you,” you murmured, your voice soft.
“Don’t mention it,” he said, leaning back and draping an arm over your shoulders. “Go on, crack it open. Figured you’d wanna start it tonight.”
You didn’t need to be told twice. Settling against him, you flipped open the book and dove into the first chapter, the world around you fading as the words pulled you in. Logan stayed silent beside you, watching with an easy contentment as you lost yourself in the pages.
Two chapters in, you stopped mid-sentence, frowning slightly as something unexpected caught your eye. Pressed between the pages was a small, folded piece of paper. You glanced at Logan, who looked pointedly at the sky, pretending not to notice.
“What’s this?” you asked, unfolding it carefully.
“No idea,” he replied, his voice too casual.
You raised an eyebrow at him before returning your attention to the note. As you unfolded it, a glint of metal fell onto your lap. Your breath hitched. There, nestled against the fabric of your jeans, was a ring.
It was simple yet beautiful, timeless in design, with a delicate band that caught the starlight. For a moment, all you could do was stare, your mind reeling.
“Logan...” Your voice was barely above a whisper.
He shifted beside you, his movements slow and deliberate. When you turned to look at him, his expression was uncharacteristically soft, the usual gruffness in his features replaced by something vulnerable.
“Y/N,” he began, his voice rough but steady. “This ring... it’s been with me for longer than I care to admit. Carried it through lifetimes, through every damn thing life’s thrown at me. And every time, it’s led me back to you.”
Your heart pounded in your chest as he reached out, gently taking the ring from your lap.
“I’ve lost you too many times,” he continued, his thumb brushing over the band. “But this time... this time, I’m not lettin’ go. I don’t care what happens, how crazy things get, I want this to stick.”
He reached for your hand, his calloused fingers warm against yours. “So what d’ya say, darlin’? You up for makin’ this official?”
Tears blurred your vision as you nodded, your voice catching in your throat. “Logan... yes. Yes, of course.”
A grin broke across his face, rare and genuine, as he slid the ring onto your finger. It fit perfectly.
Without thinking, you launched yourself into his arms, burying your face in his chest as he held you close. His embrace was solid and unwavering, grounding you even as your emotions threatened to overwhelm.
“Didn’t think I’d ever get here,” he murmured against your hair.
You pulled back just enough to look up at him, your hands resting on his chest. “Me neither,” you admitted, your smile wobbly but radiant. “But I’m glad we did.”
He kissed you then, slow and deliberate, as if sealing a promise. The stars above seemed brighter somehow, the night air warmer. For the first time in a long while, everything felt right.
As the kiss ended, he rested his forehead against yours. “Guess I don’t need that ring burnin’ a hole in my pocket anymore,” he teased.
You laughed softly, wiping at your eyes. “Guess not.”
i could've dragged out them not being engaged, but i couldn't help myself. anyways, if you can't already tell, most of this alternate timeline is going to be just fluff so i hope y'all are ready for it!
(also, in my head they've been dating for a year so it's currently 2004, a year-ish after x2. i'll add the years at the end notes just for people who like it, because i need the dates just because that's who i am)
#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#james howlett x reader#james howlett x you#logan howlett#logan howlett fanfiction#logan howlett x fem!reader#logan howlett fic#i love you in every time#i love you always and forever
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for the first time - 1.2k words
ex!Patrick Zweig x college!reader
you guys... i wrote something... and it ends abruptly but i felt like i'd rather post this and then post a follow-up later than keep this in the drafts for another 2 months...
inspired by "For The First Time" by Mac Demarco
based off of a request from a long time ago from @rayhalloffame but then i got inspired by the mac demarco song and lost the original plot- my sincerest apologies for that... (so so so sorry that this was so late and also that i lost the plot...)
basically patrick is your ex and you went off to college trying to forget about him, avoided him for a couple years, but this year you've brought back your new (shitty) boyfriend, taken him to your hometown bar, where patrick also happened to be.
tw! for drinking, also abrupt ending, also im not the best writer but i wanted to contribute something...
~~~~~~~~~~~
While she’s been away
Living day-to-day has been tough
Without her by my side
Simply being alive has been rough
And though she won’t be gone forever
There are many times I find it feels that way
And I’m not trying to forget her
Just understand how I’ll be feeling on that day
The bar was surprisingly packed, even for a Saturday night, and the overlapping conversations around him were so loud, it was hard for Patrick to even hear his own thoughts.
It was the weekend before thanksgiving, and it seemed that everyone was back in town for the holiday. Patrick recognized the faces of a lot of his old classmates from high school around him, but not you.
He knew that you’d come back to town the past few years for the holidays, but he somehow never saw you out. He figured that you must’ve been avoiding him. You two hadn’t seen each other since the summer before you went off to college, the summer that you broke up with him.
He could remember it vividly: it was a hot July day, and you had told him to come over. You opened the door, looking like you had been crying for a while, having that closed-off look that Patrick hated.
“I just… can’t go off to college with a boyfriend from back home. Long distance never works.”
Those exact words had been engraved in his mind since that day. Patrick Zweig had never been one for commitment, but something about you was different. Losing you had felt like losing part of himself. But he wanted you to do well in college, so he accepted it. And moved on.
Or, at least, he tried to. But even two and a half years later, things without you still didn’t feel right. Patrick felt pathetic; still stuck on some old childhood friend-turned-high school sweetheart that definitely wanted nothing to do with him. But, he still cared.
So, here he was, standing next to his best friend Art, who had just come back from Stanford, in the middle of a loud, rowdy bar full of college kids. He already knew that you’d be avoiding him again this break, like you’d done for the past two years, but it didn’t sting any less to know that he’d go another year missing you, while you were off at college living your own life.
Without her by my side
Simply being alive has been rough
It was right then that he saw you across the bar, standing in a group of girls that you’d been friends with back in high school, looking even more beautiful than the last time he saw you.
You hadn’t noticed Patrick yet, and he was sure that when you did, you’d shut down and push him away again. You’d avoided him for so long, he was surprised that you two had even ended up in the same place.
Next to you was some guy, standing stiffly and looking completely uninterested in whatever conversation you were having with your friends. It felt like a knife had just been shoved into Patrick’s stomach. He figured that you’d move on eventually, and he’s been with girls that he met on tour since he’d dated you anyways, but seeing you, with this boring, pretentious-looking guy felt unbearable.
That “guy” was your boyfriend, of about 6 months now, that you’d finally brought home to meet your family. He was boring, and uninterested in the things that you liked, but he was stable, and seemed like a good option for you. So, you two had started dating.
Everything with him was just… ok. He had a habit of talking down to you, making you feel dumb, and explaining things to you that you’d already known. He didn’t put much care into the relationship, he had never gotten you flowers or anything, but that’s just what guys are like, right? He treated you just fine, and you guys didn’t fight much, so it must be a good match. But something for you was just missing.
He just… wasn’t Patrick. As much as you resisted admitting it to yourself, deep down you knew that you missed him. Which was basically why you had avoided him at all costs for the past two years, knowing that as soon as you’d start talking again, your progress of “moving on” would be completely wiped away.
But now, the winter break of your junior year in college, you’d started to be less careful about avoiding the popular spots. Maybe it was just you being careless, or maybe you were hoping that you’d see him somewhere, at the bar, or the club, and have the “chance encounter” that’s been replaying in your daydreams since you started dating your current boyfriend.
So, already on your third drink of the night, you couldn’t look away when you locked eyes with Patrick Zweig. God, he looked good. He’s gotten more toned from tour, and you’d forgotten just how tall he was. You could feel your boyfriend standing like a statue beside you, scrolling on his phone while your friend updated the group on all of the hometown gossip. But you couldn’t look away from Patrick. And he knew it.
Before you could fully process it, Patrick Zweig was there, standing in front of you. After two years. You wanted to roll your eyes at the smug look he was trying to keep pressed onto his face, but you could see the tenderness in his eyes as he looked at you. He looked so much… softer with you than he did with anyone else. You’d forgotten about that.
Even your friends smiled when he joined the circle, standing across from you with an almost sheepish smile. Against all odds, they liked him as your boyfriend. At least more than they liked this stuck-up finance bro that you’d brought home this year. As your boyfriend, Patrick had almost become one of the girls, always joining in on a gossip sesh with you all as he held you on his lap, while this current guy acted like he was above that kind of “girly stuff”.
And you just wanted to fall back into his arms. And god, he wanted that too.
But the idle chatter kept going, as you looked at the ground in silence. Your boyfriend didn’t pay any attention to your current state, he wasn’t paying attention to the conversation anyways. But Patrick did, he always did.
“So… how have you been?” he asked, as you looked up hesitantly. And, at his voice, your boyfriend finally looked up from his phone.
“She’s been good,” your boyfriend said, his face contorting into a bitter snarl. “I’m her boyfriend, by the way. Who are you?” he asked Patrick, his voice immediately sounding defensive.
The conversation passed by uncomfortable between them, as you dissociated from the scene before you. Your boyfriend sucked. You missed Patrick. And maybe it was wrong to break up over something like that, but in that moment, you just couldn’t care.
Finishing your third drink, it all passed by in a blur. You pulled your boyfriend away for a second, ending that relationship before you did anything else. It was impulsive, and not your best moment, but honestly it needed to happen.
And you ended up back with your friends, as your boyfriend ubered back to the hotel, talking and laughing with them, feeling at home for a moment.
The rest of the night passed by in a blur, as you fell back into Patrick’s arms as the conversation with your friends continued, him laughing alone, his arms snaked around your waist from behind as you leaned against him, the haze of the bar finally feeling relaxing, instead of too loud or too chaotic.
#patrick zweig#challengers#art donaldson#patrick zweig x reader#challengers fic#challengers x reader#challengers 2024#josh o'connor
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your yandere starscream snippet?? good lord... 🧎♀️🧎♀️as a fellow starscream simp I (and plenty of other followers) are willing to read more if u wanna expand on yandere starscream? (ignore or delete if u dont wanna :3)
[tfp] yandere!starscream x human!reader very incoherent and crack(ish) ramblings because I'm insane about this scrimblo
Imagine it’s four in the morning, and you suddenly wake up to get a drink of water. You lean over to grab the full glass on your nightstand, but you don’t even manage to touch the glass with your fingertips because you notice a pair of scarlet optics staring directly at you in the darkness. Oh, and they’re hovering right above your bed. The best part? This isn’t the first or last time this has happened, because he frequently breaks into your house at night just to look at you.
You’d better hope you sleep through his visit, because if you wake up and Starscream notices, you’ll be bombarded with a monologue about how you don’t pay him enough attention. How dare you bolt the doors against him?! You knew full well he would come to see you. And now, thanks to you, the door is ripped off its hinges, cold air is pouring into your house, and he absolutely detests the cold. So you’d better warm his majesty up—or he’ll shove himself under your blanket. Oh, and it’s only Tuesday, which means you’ve got at least ten more incidents like this to look forward to this week.
Since he enjoys breaking into your house—because it’s nice to have a place where no one takes out their frustrations on you with brute force, and where he’s at least somewhat welcome (or so he convinces himself)—he also loves to snatch a few “souvenirs” for himself. Especially when his obsession reaches its peak and he knows he won’t be able to see you for a while. Usually, it’s your clothes that he takes. They remind him of you when he desperately needs comfort.
He’ll nuzzle and cling to them, imagining he’s doing so with you, using them to stave off complete madness. The only downside of stealing clothes soaked in your scent is that the scent fades far too quickly, especially since Starscream often finds himself in rough patches. So you’ll soon notice your clothes disappearing at an alarming rate. Unfortunately, I’m afraid you’ll never get them back. Starscream will adamantly deny any knowledge of the theft and refuse to return the stolen items. By now, they’ve been so thoroughly abused that they’d never return to their original state of cleanliness anyway.
Without his obsession, Starscream is already demanding attention, but when you add a deranged and unhealthy love into the mix, his need for attention skyrockets. When you’re awake, and Starscream decides to visit you—which happens alarmingly often, especially during his self-imposed exile, he insists you keep your eyes on him at all times.
When you talk to him, you must look at him, listen carefully to what he has to say, and actively participate in the conversation. Otherwise, he becomes unbearable. You can’t walk away or leave him; you’re forced to engage. Any attempt to escape will result in manipulation—and if that doesn’t work, he’ll use force. How dare you use your phone in his presence? He’ll snatch it right out of your hands and force you into a conversation with him. Ignoring him despite his threats and insults? If you’re outside, he’ll pin you in place with his claws, forming a sort of cage, and continue his tirade as if nothing happened. If you’re indoors, he’ll trap you with his body instead.
The problem is that once physical contact occurs, Starscream has no intention of letting go.
He clings to you so desperately it’s almost disgusting. He constantly forces physical contact, whether it’s kissing, stroking, or demanding affection himself, often at the most unexpected times, like that miserable four in the morning. And since he’s nearly impossible to satisfy, these sessions can go on forever.
Hours spent stroking his helm and delivering monologues praising his majesty leave your wrist aching and your throat sore. And the next day? You can look forward to another session of the exact same thing.
He’s intensely possessive and jealous, ready to gouge out the eyes, or optics, of anyone who dares so much as glance at you. You can’t even mention your friends’ names in his presence. He’d be happiest if you stopped interacting with anyone else altogether, shrinking your circle of acquaintances down to just him. You don’t need anyone else, right?
After all, the only thing he needs to be happy is you and you alone.
He’s exhausting, demanding, and unafraid to use force to get what he wants from you, but you’ll never get rid of him, no matter how much you might want to. You can scream at him until your voice gives out, try to fortify your home against his intrusions, but Starscream isn’t going anywhere. He has no intention of giving up the only source of comfort in this vile and unjust world. He’ll fight for you at the cost of his sanity—or even his life.
#be silly#transformers x reader#starscream x reader#obsessed!starscream#yandere!starscream#yandere!transformers
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After the End of the World
They stopped the end of the world. Callum doesn't know why he's having a panic attack now. #Rayllum @endergriffin444 thank you for participating in the Review Fic-Athon! I hope you like it :)
They had stopped the end of the world. Callum didn’t know why he was having a panic attack now.
Lack of logic didn’t seem to be stopping it, though.
His knuckles were white as he gripped the edge of the table, breath coming in short, shallow gasps. He knew he shouldn’t have hung that mirror there. It had been stupid. A stupid idea.
Why was he always so stupid?
He made the mistake of glancing up, spotting the white streak in his hair again before jerking his head back down to stare at the desk. He tried to focus on the positives; he wasn’t horribly scarred, the way Viren and Claudia had been.
Maybe that would come later. After Aaravos came back and possessed him and he did who knows what to his friends and everyone he loved in the world and they all died because of him and it was all his fault because he was that horrible, twisted version of himself he’d seen in the forest and that was his destiny and-
The door opened, almost as silently as the footsteps that followed.
“Callum? Are you okay?” Rayla’s voice was low, concerned. He didn’t turn to face her.
“I’m fine!” he forced out, voice oddly high pitched as he tried to sound cheery. The footsteps grew closer.
“Oh, Callum.” she stopped beside him, reaching out a hand to cup the side of his face and tilt it towards her’s. He didn’t meet her eyes. “It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay.”
“It’s nothing.” Callum said, trying to look away even as she attempted to meet his gaze. He didn’t want to see the way she looked at him now that he was-
She brushed the hair out of his face, tucking the white streak away. She didn’t flinch as her hand touched it, just smiled at him a little sadly.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She wiped a tear from his cheek. He hadn’t realized he’d started to cry.
“I did Dark Magic, and for what?” he asked, bitterly. “It didn’t even do anything. And now- now…”
She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his scarf. He could feel her hair tickling his neck as she held him. “It’s going to be okay.”
“How could it be okay!? It is not going to be okay.” Callum maintained. “I couldn’t stop him then, and when he comes back, I won’t be able to stop him then. We only have seven years, Rayla. Seven years and fifteen days! I know it sounds like a lot, but it’s not. It’s really not and-”
“We’ll be ready this time.” Rayla assured him, giving him a squeeze before pulling back to look him in the eyes. The corner of her lip twitched upward into a small smile. “And we’ll have each other.”
“No, we won’t.” Callum pressed his palms to his eyes. “Everything I did, I only played right into his hands. I’m so stupid. Stupid.”
“Callum-”
He threw his hands into the air, gesturing wildly at everything and nothing. “I did Dark Magic again! What did I promise you? That I wouldn’t do Dark Magic again. And now look at me! Corrupted forever, ruined all over again. And what did I get for it? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And now when he comes back…”
“We’ll figure it out, Callum. We can… we can banish the darkness inside you again!”
“No, we can’t.” he shook his head. “I already asked Astrid. It’s a one time thing. One second chance! No third chances. No third chances for Dark Mages who can’t learn from their mistakes.”
He slumped into the chair behind him. “I screwed up. I screwed up again. You all should have left the first time.”
“We’re not leaving you.” Rayla said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m right here with you.”
“Maybe I should leave, before one of you gets hurt. Before I hurt you. Ez probably won’t even miss me and-”
“Ezran would definitely miss you.” Rayla cut him off. “And then he’d have to send Soren and Corvus to go and track you down instead of finding King Harrow.”
Callum groaned. “Our Dad. What am I going to say to him? How am I supposed to tell him that I abandoned Ezran when he needed me most and-”
“Callum, stop this! You and Ez made up. Your Dad loves you. He’ll love you no matter what.” she knelt down, throwing her arms around him again. “Just like I love you.”
Callum wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.
“I love you, Callum.” she said again, voice muffled by his scarf. “And I’m here for you. Just like you’ve always been there for me. And for Ezran. We’ve got you. But we need you to trust us to help carry this burden.”
“I do trust you.” Callum sighed, taking a deep breath. “And I love you. So much.”
“Then we’ll figure it out. It’s like you said. So long as we love each other, no one can control us. We write our own destinies.”
Callum tried to take a deep breath. To focus on that. On the fact that, even when Aaravos did return, they would have each other. They would write their own destinies. He didn't know how, but he would make sure that Rayla was safe. That all of them were.
They would carry their burdens together.
#review fic-athon#fandom event#my fandom events#oneshot#drabble#rayla tdp#callum tdp#rayllum#rayla fic#callum fic#rayllum fic#my fic#tdp s7 spoilers#s7 spoilers
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a while back you mentioned having written ~40k of a steven moon knight fic as well as some of a frenchie fic? i was just wondering if those would ever be posted/shared or if they will stay in google docs superhell forever (also love your work!! your star wars swap au i particularly enjoyed as well as the tma evilcon + associated fics) best of days to you !!
Look at this evilcon fan over here. Deep fucking cut.
Ah, yes I have. The 40k fic was written for Marvel Trumps Hate, and I didn't post it due to some vaguely complicated but not altogether important reasons. The Frenchie fic was the unfortunate victim towards me very abruptly falling out of MK, lmfao. I think all of my fandoms have The One Abandoned Fic that I was working on when I just Got Over the fandom (Human Relations sequel, so cruelly abandoned....).
Kind of a shame, since the Frenchie fic was not bad and just got kinda roadblocked at the end. I've tossed around maybe finishing it when MKS2 comes out and I inevitably get sucked back in. I don't want to post the MTH fic on AO3 right now (maybe in the future when MKS2 comes out and I get sucked back in etc) but there's honestly no reason not to show you...I think...looking back over this, I think I may have decided that the fic's sense of humor was just too insane. It's very.......uh.....
Uh, ok, just between you and me and other people reading this then. It's a fic about a normal guy who thinks that schizophrenia makes you immortal and autism gives you superpowers.
I'll put it in a follow-up post. In the meantime here's the first few scenes from the Frenchie fic. I really do wanna finish this one day....
“A phone call?”
The jackal barked in elderly confusion.
Steven leaned back in his chair, scratching his stubble. Jake was insisting that they experiment with facial hair and it was best to let him have these little victories. “Well, under the human American law each citizen is entitled to a phone call if they get arrested. That’s probably what he means.” The jackal barked dismissively. “Have you tried telling him that?” The jackal barked again, aggravated. “I see. Quite a pickle. Well, I don’t see any harm in giving him the call. We’d have to warn him that this is a faux legal system and that he’s not entitled to any lawyers, but perhaps he could tell his wife he won’t be home for dinner? That would be nice.”
The jackal growled.
“We could be nice,” Steven said reproachfully.
The jackal barked again.
“If you really think about it, nothing’s stopping us. Masters of our own fates and whatnot, right? Well - yes, yes, I know the gods are the masters of our fates, that’s not quite - look, sir, there’s no point in worrying a man’s wife unnecessarily, is there? How would your wife feel if you disappeared off the mortal plane?” The jackal hung its head, and Steven sighed as he stood up. “I’ll lend him my mobile.” The courthouse only had landlines, and even then that was iffy. Magical ancient Egyptian constructs still struggled with 4G. “But if he messes about with my Twitter then we’re adding another thousand years onto his sentence.”
Situations like this were why Steven still showed up to work. This zoo often struggled at little things like this without him. The place had gone to the jackals while he was gone - literally, they had taken over many administrative positions - and it would take months just to clean up the wreckage. Steven didn’t mind - nothing made him happier than a good little routine. Ten to two, that was his preference. Downright inhumane to make a man work any longer than four hours a day. He had even scheduled a deli or restaurant to visit for lunch each day of the week. And Marc and Jake were not allowed. Steven only zone. A man’s office was his castle. Besides - if they knew what he got up to all day they might complain about it.
The two were deeply asleep - Jake because he found Steven’s entire life dull as dirt and Marc because all of the mandated socialization they were doing lately really took it out of him. Steven found it delightful. Jake’s friends were really nice once you got to know them, and you could reliably get a pained expression out of any of them once you told them so. Marc found their whole thing exhausting and if Jake wasn’t entertained he wanted to die, so around noon the two slept like Alexander the Great’s mummy. Might as well build them little tombs. That was cute. Steven knew exactly what his own tomb would look like. He was practically a pharaoh and everything - maybe Khonshu would make sure he got one? No, Khonshu didn’t care about them nearly that much. Boy, but wouldn’t that be nice.
He gave the Bast statue guarding the elevator its usual nose pat, he smiled and waved at the lumbering shabtis, and he stopped and said his usual ‘hello how are you how’s Nephthys Osiris talking to you again yet’ to the Set statue as the jackal gave him the stink eye for holding them up. Kindness was key, Mr. Jackal. Steven believed in positive Steven-god relations. He lived in hope that the other gods would model good behavior for Khonshu and eventually sway him into becoming less of a dick.
The ibis perched adorably in a little booth checked his identity as it picked up a little visitor’s badge with his beak and dropped it into Steven’s outstretched hand. It pecked at the computer keyboard a few times, accomplishing nothing other than mangling the G and H keys, and a series of papers ground out of the ancient fax machine. Steven cautiously reached over and fetched the papers, scanning them. They were details of the prisoner’s case, which made Steven feel a bit like one of the Forbidden Lawyers. The jackal led him down the winding paths of the jail as Steven fumbled in his pocket for his glasses, squinting down at the pages.
“Well, this doesn’t seem too nasty,” Steven announced. “I’m sure we can get this sorted out. Certainly not a problem for our Jake, eh?” He looked at the jackal out of the corner of his eye. “Eh?” The jackal did not respond. “Right?”
Steven made the executive decision that this was a bureaucratic issue and therefore not a Marc or Jake issue. They’d just over-involve themselves and pretend they knew anything about the fake legal system. Marc and Jake were like baby brothers playing video games with you on an unplugged controller. They needed to feel like they were doing something or they’d throw a hissy fit.
The jackal didn’t have to stop and point out the prisoner. Steven could hear him from all the way down the hall: empathetic, pointed, and incessant French patter. The man sounded like he was arguing against a parking ticket, which displayed a disappointing lack of cognizance as to the severity of his situation and the high likelihood that he was about to experience extrajudicial horrors beyond his imagining.
Poor guy. Imagine being from France.
For the first time in Steven’s life his shaky French that he could not actually remember learning but that Marc and Jake did not know actually came in handy. As he got closer he could more or less puzzle out what the fast talking man was saying to the two unamused and unswayed jackals. Could the jackals speak French? It had to be some magic thing. The only animals around here who could actually talk to the humans and explain to them what was happening were the baboons, and they were never polite about it.
“ - one little call! That is it! I will never darken your doorstep again, I swear it. One phone call - and, maybe, letting me go! We can talk about it, let’s talk about it! You and I, we are reasonable men - jackal, I am a reasonable man and you are a reasonable jackal - unless you are a woman? Are you a woman? You are still a jackal at any rate. You are a very reasonable gendered jackal, and I am innocent of all crimes - and even if you are a nongendered jackal, I do not judge, I have friends of all kinds - if you give me one phone call I may call one of my friends and he can help, I am certain he is friends with very many of you people -”
The man cut off the second Steven walked into view of his cell. The cells were very basic, with only a cot and a toilet and one wall of metal bars. He was standing up against the bars, fighting with the two unamused jackals standing against the cement wall in the hallway. The man’s head jolted away from the jackals and fixed on Steven, forgetting his captive audience entirely. His slicked back hair was frayed and mussed, gelled strands sticking up every which way, and his blonde mustache twitching in surprise as his eyes widened.
Steven was sympathetic. Human prisoners were always shocked to find a real bloke around the place.
He waved a bit awkwardly, his reading glasses flopping in the air. In shaky and awkward French, he said, “Bonjour! My name is Steven Grant. And you are…” He shoved his glasses on, squinting down at the intake form. “Jean-Paul Duchamp?” He pronounced it ‘Jean Paul Dew-Champ’, and judging from the man’s twitch he had mangled it. Oh well. “Right. Do not worry, everything will be fine. You wanted a phone call? I have a phone for you.”
The man stared at him. Steven silently suffered this. He knew he was attractive.
Finally, the man said in accented but thankfully perfect English, “I have changed my mind. May I speak with you in private, Monsieur Grant?”
The three jackals barked simultaneously. Steven rolled his eyes. Honestly! He knew he was the Avatar of Khonshu now, they didn’t need to be like that! “I don’t think that’s allowed. For security reasons and all. Not that there’s anything you could possibly do to me.” A grizzled jackal with one eye barked. “Emotional - hey! I would have you know that my Myers Briggs said I was the resilient type!” Steven considered the matter for a second. “Oh, but I did have a bad horoscope today. Maybe you’re onto something. Do we have any augurers on staff?”
“Excuse me,” Jean-Paul butted in, increasingly wild eyed, “Do you care to explain what is going on, Monsieur Grant? Because the only explanation I’ve received so far was from paperwork on papyrus and a rude baboon.”
Why was he saying his name like that? The French were so weird. Steven leaned down slightly to whisper in the nearest jackal’s ear. “And he must have been really bad if a French guy is calling him rude.” The jackals cackled. Jean-Paul’s eye twitched. “Never fear, Mr. Duchamp. I’m sure we can get this whole thing sorted out before supper. Let’s review the details of your case, shall we?”
“What case?”
“Oh, you’re in an ancient Egyptian courthouse for ancient Egyptian crimes,” Steven said vaguely, sliding on his reading glasses and flipping through the pages again. “Yes, the Egyptian gods are real, no they are not aliens, you better believe in ghost stories Ms. Swan you’re in one, etcetera. Alright, alright…I see…ah! There we are! Charged as accessory to one count of tomb raiding…oh, just a little asterisk here, let’s see what that’s all about…you stole from a children’s hospital!?”
“I did not know that is what we were doing!” Jean-Paul cried. “Someone tells me to fly a medical helicopter, I do not ask questions! If I made a habit of interrogating every one of my clients I would not have a great deal of clients, monsieur!”
“Organs from a -”
“It is called professionalism!”
“It’s called evil!” Steven said, appalled. The jackals barked in agreement. “I have to say, Mr. Duchamp -”
“It’s doo-shamp. And John-Paul. Mon frere.”
Oh wow, oh no, sorry for the French microaggression. Honestly. “If it wasn’t for the fact that you betrayed your clients the second you discovered what they were stealing and refused to pilot them away you would be facing the same punishment they are. It’s quite karmic. Do you know what Egyptian canopic jars are used for?” Jean-Paul looked a little queasy. “Exactly. Do you still want that phone call, Mr. Duchamp? You’ll receive your sentence from Thoth with or without it.”
“Then why give it to me?” Jean-Paul asked waspishly.
Steven shrugged. “I wouldn’t want your husband to worry.”
“Rest assured, I am quite single.” Jean-Paul stuck his hand out through the bars. “Give it here.”
Steven pulled up the phone function on his mobile and passed it to Jean-Paul, ignoring his thoughtful expression. He tried to convey ‘mess with my phone and I’ll mess with you’ through rigorous eyebrow tilting, but he knew he was very bad at it.
Jean-Paul stepped back, swiping on the mobile. It did not look like he was punching in a number. Steven abruptly became anxious that he was snooping on Steven’s mobile. He had remembered to delete his text history with Layla, right? Right?!
He typed something on it before looking up, holding it up oddly to show Steven the screen before passing it back to him. “I changed my mind. No need for a call. Thank you for lending me your phone, monsieur, but it was unnecessary.”
The screen was open to the notes app. Steven abruptly felt like they were passing notes in class. Except not quite, because Steven was the Avatar of an Egyptian god and the other party was in jail for magic crimes. The note read -
marc what is the plan
Oh. Oh!
Steven looked up, and now he could clearly read the man’s irritated ‘why are you looking surprised, this is a matter of utmost secrecy’ eyebrow twitch. “Goodness, I’m so sorry. The egg is really on my face here, I’m so embarrassed.” He looked down at the jackal next to him, who twitched its ears attentively. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. It seems -”
Steven stopped short.
This man knew Marc. He now knew Steven. Marc really, really, really hated it when this happened.
Marc had spent the vast majority of his life masking. His family had been big believers in the ‘never talk about it and pretend it doesn’t exist’ school of mental illness, which had resulted in a great deal of very terrible problems. Marc did not learn from any of these problems and continued to hide the DID from everybody he had ever met up to and including his own wife for a depressing yet impressive length of time. Steven hadn’t really agreed with the wife decision, because it was a slightly huge aspect of their lives that was very much Layla’s business, but Marc believed in privacy. Steven couldn’t fault him for that.
It wasn’t anybody’s business if Marc didn’t want it to be their business and they were not Marc’s actual wife. Jake spouted off about shame and internalized ableism, which was undoubtedly true, but nobody was really entitled to his health information. He had the right to self-disclose when he wanted and to who he wanted. Steven only wished that this reasonable desire did not lead to sitcom-esque hijinks as they all switched mustaches and pretended to be each other. Sometimes literally. Jake had his whims.
Marc wouldn’t want this random pilot knowing personal stuff about him. He was probably just some colleague he had worked with one time and never saw again. And Steven was very dedicated to helping Marc and making his life easier, just like Marc was dedicated to helping Steven and making his life harder. Jake was dedicated to being a bully.
Being involuntarily outed was traumatic for Marc. The last time it happened he fell asleep for four weeks and plunged Steven into a Jake induced nightmare. What if he went back to sleep? What if he never woke up this time? What if he left Steven alone with Jake forever? He couldn’t take that chance.
Marc didn’t have to find out about any of this. No point in stressing him out over nothing.
In a stunning show of cunning, cleverness, and subtlety, Steven looked down at the jackal next to him. “Actually, can I talk with Mr. Duchamp in private? There’s some things we need to discuss.” The jackal asked what. “Human things.” The jackal asked why it had to be private. “They’re private human things.” Steven paused a beat. “Like periods. We’re going to talk about our periods.”
The jackals knew enough about humans to know that periods were private human things and not enough to know that cisgender men did not get periods. They gave him dubious looks anyway, but when Steven mimed yanking a crescent knife from his chest they obligingly filed out. The grizzled one-eyed jackal turned around and gave John-Paul a gimlet ‘I’m watching you’ eye, but John-Paul just sniffed and looked above it all. French people sure were good at looking snooty.
The second the jackals turned the corner and disappeared from sight Steven took a deep breath and changed.
He straightened, folding his expression into a deep scowl. He tilted his head forward in Marc’s faux intimidating fashion and affected Marc’s terrible Chicago accent - which was just as fake as Steven’s very real to him British accent, thank you very much! Jean-Paul straightened too, eyes widening again.
“What the hell?” Steven demanded. Ugh. It was hell on the throat to talk like this. “How did you even get yourself into this mess?”
“Me? I am the one in the mess?” Jean-Paul stabbed a finger at Steven, who scowled deeper. “What was that? What is this? Why are you working for an ancient Egyptian courthouse under a false identity?”
“It’s a long story,” Steven snapped. It was really easy to avoid questions as Marc. You just had to be mean. “And it’s none of your business.”
“At this point I think it is very much my business! Jesus, Marc!” Jean-Paul exhaled deeply, rubbing his forehead in a forcible attempt at zen. “What is this, some sort of op? Are you undercover?”
“I said it was none of your business!”
“This is why you don’t run the ops,” Jean-Paul said. Steven was offended on Marc’s behalf. “I am impressed at your acting skills but not at your subtlety.”
“The usual, then,” Steven said wryly. “I’m impressed with your talent at getting arrested.”
“I get it, I get it. Marc Spector twenty, Jean-Paul fifteen. I swear, Marc, only you would get yourself in these predicaments.”
“You’re the one in the predicament. I’m doing fine.”
“My predicament is your predicament.” Why would that be true? He said it so casually, as if it was a given fact. Quite presumptuous of him, in Steven’s opinion. “At least now I don’t have to waste a hope and a prayer that you would pick up your phone this time. How are you going to get me out of this one? They have a giant baboon! Have you seen the baboon!”
“The baboon’s very understanding about my medical needs, so watch it.” Wait - had he wanted to spend his one phone call on Marc? Why? They were talented, cool, and altruistic, but… “Look, I’ll do what I can. But the gods aren’t exactly easy to argue with. I’ve tried to get them to overturn a sentence before and it failed miserably.”
“That’s the first time I’ve heard my friend try to do things the legal way.” Jean-Paul folded his arms. “Just bust me out. Isn’t that more your style?”
What a suck-up. Marc didn’t have friends. Steven smiled anyway, brittle and thin. “Don’t worry, Jean-Paul. I’ll do everything I can to help you. Just please try and understand the position I’m in.”
Jean-Paul stared at him. Steven forced himself to look the other man in the eyes even though it made him uncomfortable. Marc always stared down people he didn’t trust.
“So, uh,” Steven said, “I better call the jackals back -”
“Please admit you do not know who I am.”
Steven froze. He opened his mouth, then closed it.
Jean-Paul sighed. He kneaded his forehead again, shoulders slumped, but something about the gesture had changed. My predicament is your predicament - what did that mean? “Why didn’t you say - non, non, you would have no reason. Marc, please listen to me.” He looked solidly at Steven, and Steven found himself looking away. “It’s Frenchie. I’m your friend. We met in Afghanistan and we’ve worked together ever since. You’re having another amnesiac episode. This happens to you sometimes and it is nothing to worry about. Do you believe me about this?”
Steven opened his mouth. He closed it.
He couldn’t help it - he hunched his shoulders, clutching at his sleeve and drawing away. “I don’t have friends. You’re lying.”
“Call up Layla and ask,” Jean-Paul said. His voice was even and steady, and it struck Steven oddly. The man was literally in a jail cell about to be Egyptian tortured and he was comforting Steven? Looking out for him in a mental health episode? Did the world contain two Lukes? “Do you know Layla? Your wife? Now there’s a thief for you. I am but a humble pilot in comparison.”
That cinched it. Marc would never tell anybody he didn’t trust about Layla. Much less about what Layla really did for a living.
But Marc didn’t trust anybody. Marc wasn’t supposed to trust anybody. That was Marc’s whole thing. He only trusted Steven and Layla. He only trusted Steven and Layla and - Frenchie? What kind of nickname was that? That was so stupid.
Marc was really bad at naming things. Movie poster, pilfered ID. Frenchie. Jeez.
Steven put it down. He let his shoulders hunch back into their natural slouch, bent his voice back towards its natural tilt, and dropped the mean expression. Despite himself, he groaned.
“Marc’s going to kill me!” Steven wailed. “He’s going to go to sleep again and leave me with Jake!”
Jean-Paul recoiled, surprise turning into shock. Wow, wow, big surprise. Marc or Jake’s friends freaking out over Steven. Stop the presses.
“He’s gonna blame me for this, you know,” Steven cried. Not whined. Nope. “This is why he doesn’t trust me with anything. As if it’s my fault that his friends keep getting arrested? Maybe I should get a little more recognition for being the only one without delinquent friends. Honestly, I don’t know why we can’t keep better company sometimes. A book club? A Dungeons and Dragons group? Anybody who doesn’t punch people for a living? Is that too much to ask?”
“Hm,” Jean-Paul said. “Your dissociative episodes have grown stranger.”
“What were they like in the military?” Steven asked, morbidly curious. “Marc didn’t even mention amnesia episodes. He can be right frustrating, you know.”
Slowly and carefully, Jean-Paul said, “Do you remember the manic episodes?”
“We’re bipolar?” Steven asked blankly.
“That is what I thought. I do not think I was correct.”
Wait. “Did you think Jake was a manic episode?”
“Jake?”
“The other one,” Steven said helpfully.
“Ah. Yes, I think so.” Jean-Paul paused - not as if he was uncertain, but as if he wasn’t sure how the words would be received. “I understand DID is a very difficult disorder.”
Something tugged at the back of Steven’s mind, then yanked. Steven felt himself fall backwards, and something else surged in him -
*
Frenchie stood in front of Marc, right in every way, wrong only in the eyes - only in the way he was looking at Marc -
Cautiously, he said, “Steven? You look dazed.”
Dazed. That was what he’d always call it. Whenever Marc zoned out and left his body, whenever Frenchie caught him wandering listlessly around camp with no memory of having even left bed - you look dazed, Marc -
“Do you ever get tired of your front row seat?” Marc asked hoarsely.
But Frenchie just smiled - a little cockily, a little kindly. “The view is quite good.”
Marc couldn’t do this. He never could, he could never do anything - but he couldn’t do this. Humiliation crushed him, Frenchie’s affection and acceptance its strange shadow. The shadow was worse than the weight. It was the shadow he couldn’t handle. He couldn’t handle this.
He turned on his heel and left, leaving Frenchie alone in the cell with no promise of rescue and no aid given, and he found himself walking faster until he turned the corner. The jackals were still huddled like a football team growling thoughtfully at each other, and they perked up when they recognized Marc. He ignored them, walking through the crowd until they leapt away.
Marc’s walk turned into a run. A drum beat rocked his head, pushing hard at his heart. The beat threw him forward, turning his run into a sprint down the winding cement halls. His desperation reached out and thought of a word, and once he thought it he just couldn’t stop.
Jake. Jake. Jake! Jake, I can’t do it again - Jake - !
*
Marc woke up face first in Jessica Jones’ hair clutching a bottle of Jack.
He yelped, jerking away automatically and falling off the couch with a heavy jolt. The bottle jumped out of its hands, landing on the stained wood coffee table with a heavy thump and rolling against a bulwark of beer bottles.
Marc bolted upright, ignoring his pounding head to take inventory of his surroundings. He relaxed the second he registered where he was. Heroes For Hire apartment. Morning. Luke Cage was passed out in an armchair, sawing wood. Colleen’s bra was draped across the back of a couch. Did these people do anything other than party?
Jessica flopped over, squinting blearily at him in the morning light. Cars honked outside and traffic blared, the sound cutting harshly into his throbbing head. Jessica waved a hand limply at him. She mumbled something that Marc could somehow translate into ‘what’s your problem?’.
Nothing. No problem. Not right now, not here. Marc climbed back onto the couch, pushing Jessica aside to reclaim his spot. Amazingly, they were barely even cuddling - their couch was one of those IKEA types that you could just keep adding onto, it was fucking ginormous. He left the bottle of Jack on the table, whiskey slowly sloshing in the glass. Jessica went back to sleep immediately, her warm breaths pressed against his back.
The sunlight faded into night, then nothing.
*
“ - and that’s why I wouldn’t fuck Mr. Fantastic unless Sue Storm was watching.”
Marc bolted upright.
“I left Frenchie in prison!” Marc cried.
“Man, what kind of weird dreams are you having?” Danny asked. Marc could hear his voice from behind the couch, accompanied by the rattle of silverware and the hefty scent of bacon. “I can interpret it for you if you want. The prison’s probably a metaphor for -”
“Your psyche,” Colleen intoned.
“That’s a bit on the nose, don’t you think?” Luke said.
Marc rolled off the couch again, slouching his way to the breakfast table and collapsing in his chair. Somebody put a bowl of cereal in front of him and began shoving it in his mouth. Everybody went back to ignoring him and resumed their conversation about the most fuckable superheroes.
“Monica Rambeau at the top,” Misty said, for what sounded like the five hundredth time. “Very top. Except my girlfriend.”
“I’m the last heir of a samurai clan, not a superhero.”
“Very top. Monica Rambeau.”
“Do you think the Avengers have these conversations about us?” Danny asked Luke. “Like, they have to, right? I don’t think they’re above it.”
“They have mimosa brunches. Man, you know they do. I don’t want to know what the hell they say about me.”
“One time Hawkeye flirted with me and I snapped his bow over my knee,” Jessica reported. “It’s about controlling the narrative, Luke.” Marc’s hand reached out and swiped bacon off her plate, cramming it into his mouth. “Watch it, asshole!”
“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Luke told him, half-amused. “Who do we got today?” Marc glared at him balefully, but he held up the ASL finger sign ‘M’ anyway. “Good to see you, Marc. You’re the early bird, huh?”
“Jake was complaining about you yesterday,” Jessica told him gleefully, as if she was snitching on her classmate to the teacher for saying the b word. “He told us all about your intimacy issues. Is it true that you yearn for acceptance, yet are terrified of receiving it?”
“And why,” Marc gritted out between clenched teeth, holding his spoon at a vicious angle, “is Jake always telling you my goddamn business?”
“He likes to vent.”
“Then tell him to shut up next time.”
Misty scraped up eggs with her knife primly. “Five times a day seven days a week. Never listens.”
“Five people live in this apartment, there is no such thing as your own business,” Colleen said, dead-eyed. “I haven’t had privacy in a year.”
“It’s not that different from the monastery,” Danny said philosophically. “Smaller, though.”
“Drunker?” Misty asked.
“Not really.”
“Damn. Guess you had to do something without television.”
Marc’s grip on his spoon tightened so hard that his bones creaked. “Then you can just go tell Jake -”
Tell me yourself.
“Shut up, Jake! You can all tell Jake that next time he decides to overshare -” Hissy fit ten minutes after waking up, new record. “I wouldn’t throw a hissy fit if you stopped doing shit just to piss me off!” You are an egomaniac. “That is so rich.”
“Still weird,” Misty decreed.
“Yeah, still weird,” Colleen said.
Luke cut into his hash brown. “I’m just glad that they’re all talking again.”
“Totally glad that Jake’s back to his healthy, regular state of talking to himself,” Colleen said. “Maybe soon he’ll become normal and only serial kill on weekends.”
“I know none of you care about my personal drama,” Jake said flatly, “but would a little respect be so outta line for youse?” Jessica mumbled something around her egg. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, woman, have some self-respect.”
“Steven and I were talking about going to the zoo and looking at the sloths,” Danny said brightly. “Do you still want to do that? I want to see them so bad. All we have back home are sloth bears but I don’t think they’re the same animal.”
“Sloth bears?” Misty asked.
“They mostly eat termites and ants, really,” Steven told her, “not nearly as scary as you’re imagining. Quite adorable. But nothing really beats sloths on the cuteness factor.”
“Steven! Good to catch you. When do you want to go to the zoo?”
“Oh, boy, maybe Sunday? Do we have anything on Sunday?”
I was going to get drunk.
Same.
“Looks like Sunday’s free!” Steven paused a beat, a smile fixed on his face. “You know, fellas, I can’t help but feel as if we’ve forgotten something.”
We forget stuff incessantly, Marc said, tired. Frenchie was always dragging me out of bars I didn’t remember walking inside.
There’s an alternate explanation for that one.
See, that’s what I thought, but Frenchie never thought so.
“Frenchie!” Steven cried. He jerked onto his feet, sending his plate rattling. “We left Frenchie in prison!”
Danny reached out and patted Steven on the forearm. “It’s okay, Steven. It was just a dream. The French can’t hurt you.”
“Not if they’re in prison, anyway,” Misty said.
Luke, the only one who ever remotely was on topic, put down his fork and looked at Steven. “Who’s Frenchie? Since when do you know other people?”
“He’s my best friend,” Marc said. He scrambled away from the table, faintly registering that he was wearing Jake’s outfit. He and Steven had their own changes of clothes in the guest bedroom, he’d have to take a minute and change. They hated wearing each other’s clothing. It felt so invasive. Jake hated polyester, Marc hated wool, and Steven hated layers in non-freezing temperatures. “Damn it, what kind of friend am I!”
Jessica squinted at him, sipping her orange juice. “Wait, you have other friends? I thought we were your only friends.”
“He’s my friend, not Jake’s. You’re Jake’s friends.”
“I’m not Jake’s friend,” Misty said.
“Jake’s my friend but I don’t like him,” Colleen said.
“Jake’s my friend and I like him,” Danny said eagerly.
“No comment,” Luke said.
But Jessica just continued squinting at him - as if she could read something between their three faces, unremarkable individually but painting a clear picture together. “This is what stressed you out so bad yesterday, yeah?” Marc shoved the chair back into the table, averting his eyes. “Why don’t I come with you? Like, buffer zone?”
A part of Marc did want her to come. He didn’t know if that part was Jake or Steven or himself. He never knew where to put himself anymore, how to partition out his life into the good and bad. How to fit together Jake and Layla, how to give Steven the reins on the courthouse work, how to fit into the Heroes For Hire in a space carved for Jake yet welcoming of anybody.
It was so easy. It scared Marc.
“I can handle my own army buddy,” Marc said gruffly. He bent down and kissed Jessica on the cheek. “I’ll call.”
Marc swept out the door, ignoring Jessica calling “You better!” behind him.
#my writing#my asks#so much of the fun of the frenchie fic was marc x HFH dynamics it was so good#and frenchie himself ended up being such an interesting character. what an ass.#trivia: i wrote this THEN l2urh when i got writer's block#and frenchie's thing there was honestly just a speedrun of his arc here.#'steven's based off layla but jake's based off frenchie' was the most based decision
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Forced Confession
He would. We've already seen it!!! Anyways, this does not feature some of Josh's "darker" methods, but just early game banter. I tried a little with just the two boys, but let me tell you, I struggle so incredibly much with the guy pov. I still think it worked out. You basically got two scenarios and the locked-in bedroom-bit. Enjoy <3
Word count: 1,4k (Unedited)
imagine josh trying to set you up with chris kinda like he tried to do with chris and ashley, he makes comments about you to chris pissing him off and getting him all riled up, he sends you off to do some tasks together until he locks you both in some bedroom at the lodge and he's kinda forced to confess to you 👀👀 -anon
“You know, she’s really hot, if you don’t do anything about it, Mike might” Josh tells Chris, stopping him in his tracks.
“Dude, please, don’t rush me”
“Oh come on, she’s not going to wait forever, you’ve been a perfect gentleman, now get going with it!”
Chris furrows his brows, unsure about how to react. It’s true, you guys have been walking around the bush for too long, and now, you might set your sights on someone else. At the same time, if he did confess, and you didn’t feel the same, he’d ruin everything you guys had, everything you’d built up.
“Man, I know, but what if something goes wrong, it might”
“Or you might fuck until dawn, and to be honest, I think I’m right”
“I don’t know”
Josh sighs, shaking his head in disbelief. His friends were dumb as shit, and it annoyed the hell out of him. If you guys just got done with it already, there’d be so much less tension in the room.
“Okay, proposal. If you take her against that tree right there, I’ll give you fifty dollars”
“What?”
“Seventy if I can tape it”
“What, no, absolutely not”
“You had your chance”
***
A loud smack is heard, and both mine and Josh’s heads turn to the window. Chris is not there anymore. The lodge lock was frozen, and we had to find another way in. Chris seemed like he had a plan, and Josh and I followed through, managing to open a window and looking inside. Or, falling inside, at least Chris did. He lets out a loud whine, and Josh helps me up on the box to look inside. The clumsy blonde is laying on his back, on the floor, eyes pressed tightly together and arms laying weakly in each direction. I give him a look. This man needs to be more careful. Josh appears beside me, using the frame of the window for stability.
“I should’ve paid more attention in climbing class”
“You mean gym?”
I let out a laugh as Chris gets up, groaning in pain.
“You okay, Chrissy?”
“Yeah, yeah” he mumbles, waving his hand. I look deeper inside the cellar. Everything’s dark and creepy, and I would definitely prefer to wait outside with the others.
“Okay, you next” Josh exclaims, hand laid out as if asking for a dance.
“What, absolutely not. Have you seen the inside?”
“Believe it or not, but I have” he smirks, shaking his head to Chris. I roll my eyes, everyone’s being a prick today. Especially this guy with his suggestive comments and small favours.
“Fine” I conclude, starting to climb. I get one leg in, laying flat on my stomach as I try to get through, hopefully safer than Chris.
“Incoming!” Josh shouts, pushing me inside. I yelp, my whole body falling inside, muscles tightening and eyes closing, waiting for the impact. Instead of a concrete floor, two strong hands grab me, a little weakly at first, but then tightening the grip. I open my eyes, seeing Chris looking down worriedly, holding me bride style.
“And there came the princess, off to the honeymoon guys!” he shouts, about to leave us.
“Are you fucking insane, Washington?” I yell at him, cheeks flustered from my position. I try not to think about it, but every time I turn my eyes, he’s already staring at me.
“No, just getting things going, you know?”
“Man, be careful won’t you? She could’ve gotten hurt” Chris adds, hands grabbing me harder. I have to look away, ashamed by how turned on I get by his hands and grip.
“Nah, you wouldn’t have let that happen. Enjoy yourselves, though not too much!” Josh finishes, jumping down from the box and leaving us in the cellar.
“Um, you can put me down now” I say, smiling up at him. He looks as if in a trance, eyes big and sparkly. My request makes him shake his head, nodding and gently letting me down. I don’t miss the opportunity to caress his chest, his jacket a little open. Hopefully, the touch is so subtle he doesn’t notice.
“Of course, of course. Let’s find the bathroom”
***
Sam walks up to me, head tilted in an innocent manner. A way that makes it feel… not so innocent.
“Hey, I left my towel in the guest room, can you grab it?”
“Can’t you?” I ask back, everything feeling out of place. Something’s up, and I don’t know what.
“Josh is waiting for me in the cellar, to get the warm water running, I’m about to go down, can you just grab it, please?”
I nod, giving her a sceptical ‘sure’, making her smile. She walks away, and I wait for a couple of seconds, just to check that this isn’t some set-up. After about 20 seconds, I make my way to the room. I would’ve seen or heard her by now if she was watching or planning something.
The hallway is empty, the only sound being my boots on the dark wood floor. This year feels different than before. Something’s in the air, and that scares me. Maybe Josh is planning something? It wouldn’t be the first time. Sometimes I even wonder if he’s out to get me. Usually when it’s about Chris though. He can’t just accept that he doesn’t feel that way about me, and if I did something, he’d be freaked out and I’d ruin everything we have. I walk into the room, being met with the blonde himself.
“Chris?”
He turns, looking at me surprisingly, then shifts his gaze around the room. Before either of us can put two and two together, the door smacks shut, a small click coming from the other side. Shit, those little fucks.
“Hey!” I yell, banging on the door. A load of snickers are heard from the outside, making me yell louder and hit harder. Chris sighs, walking over to me and trying a calmer approach.
“Guys, come on. We’re supposed to get ready to party all night long, right? Now let us out”
“No fucking way!” Josh laughs, earning himself a high five from Sam. At least that’s what it sounds like.
“What was it you told me a while ago? Oh, that day Chris was wearing a t-shirt, showing off his arms?” Sam teases, and I hit the door as hard as I can. Chris looks my way, intrigued by the continuity. Sam and Josh talks as if they’re on a children's tv show, each sentence clear and horrific to hear.
“What did she say, Sam?” Josh jokes, making the whole situation worse. My cheeks flush, terrified of the next sentence.
“Yeah, what did you say?” Chris asks, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. I shake my head. This cannot be happening.
“I think it was something about being headlocked and fucked from behind while he flexes his muscles?”
“I’m going to fucking kill you, Sam!” I shout, head in my hands from the humiliation. Fucking god, Christ, holy shit. I’ll be dead before I get to kill her. Being locked into a room with Chris, forcing him to hear everything.
“Oh, what a coincidence Sam, do you know what dear old Chris said the other day?”
“Oh, do tell!” Sam exclaims, clapping her hands in excitement.
“I think it was that day she was wearing a skirt”
I perk my ears, and suddenly intrigued myself. Now Chris was the one banging on the door, telling them to shut up. His ears are red, cheeks flushed and eyes glossy. Josh continues either way.
“Something about him pushing her against the wall, lifting her leg until she’d be fully exposed and showing herself off to him while he pounds into her”
My mouth falls open, looking over at an embarrassed Chris. He’s turned away from me, too ashamed to meet my gaze. Sadly, I know how he feels. Carefully, my hand makes it to his torso, grabbing a bit of his sweater and turning him around. My pulse skyrockets, his gaze darker than ever, tongue licking slowly over his lower lip. I lean forward, and before I can make my next move, he does it for me. My back is slammed against the door, lips meeting mine in a hungry, passionate manner, eating me up. My hands fly to his neck, pulling him closer while nails scratch his skin.
“Oh shit, that thud was definitely not out of anger. We don’t want to hear this, Josh” Sam says, both of their footsteps walking down the hall, the sounds growing lesser and lesser from the distance. But honestly, no matter how close they are, I can’t really hear them. I’m too caught up with Chris’s small moans and groans, the way they vibrate down my throat.
#until dawn#chris hartley#christopher hartley#chris until dawn#until dawn chris#chris hartley smut#chris hartley imagines#until dawn chris x reader#josh washington x reader smut#chris hartley x reader#chris hartley imagine#chris hartley oneshot#sam giddings#samantha giddings#josh washington#joshua washington#christopher hartley x reader#christopher hartley smut#christopher hartley until dawn#until dawn oneshot
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DYWTYLM? - Part 8
Take Me Back to Eden - Mina x Fem!reader
Word count: 8k
Angst/Fluff
Summary: Reader cooperates with authorities to trap Nayeon so they can lock her away for good but nayeon has other plans. Mina shows up for you in ways you never thought possible, solidifying your relationship and giving you reinforcement for the idea you already had.
TW: mentions of food, abusive partners, Nayeon is actually insane…death, knives, blood, suggestive moments, angst angst angst.
A/N: I was dragging my feet bc like only one more part after this and it’s basically an epilogue 😭 i fr love this series so much and I know I talk about it constantly but it’s just bc I’m just so proud of it. Thank you for taking the time to read it and I hope you all have a lovely day🖤🖤
A deep breath before entering the familiar building you used to call home, you look back to make sure the police are in their positions in the unmarked cars they drove over in to not tip off Nayeon.
A quick thumbs up to them before shifting your attention over to Mina who is in the passenger seat of your car. Parked in its usual spot, you can see her fidgeting and bitting her nails…she’s just as fearful as you are.
The worry in her eyes was very clear, even from a distance. Distraught over this plan you had concocted with the law enforcement to trap Nayeon and arrest her.
It won’t stop if you don’t stop it.
You are who she want and the sense of responsibility that you feel to protect those you care about is strong. Mina already got caught in the crosshairs…you couldn’t bare it if someone else was hurt by her.
Nayeon waiting for you in the apartment that held all the memories, good, bad, ugly, and even worse - the ones that weren’t yours too. All the energy that was trapped in that space, if the walls could talk, they would scream bloody murder.
9:45pm is when the cops were going to move in on the apartment, you just needed to keep her distracted while they moved into the building…you could do that. Looking down at your phone to check the time, it was 9:29pm already. Distracting her for 15 minutes didn’t seem like too big of a task but the fear of the unknown looms over your head.
What would she do or say while you were in front of her?
Another deep breath, you silently enter the building and make your way to the elevator.
It takes forever to get to your floor, the slow pull of gravity adds to your anxiety as the numbers go up,
1.
2.
3.
Until finally you’re on the floor where this began…and where it was about to end.
Flashes of everything that had happen haze over your mind’s eye, showing memory after memory of what had taken place over the last month.
The note.
The text messages.
The rock through the window.
The banquet.
The hospital.
Everything she had put you through, now about to come to a head as you sulk down the hallway and to the wood that separated you from whatever would happen next.
The front door is intimidating, feeling the same rush of emotions as the first time you came back to this place after you found out about Nayeon cheating on you…but in no way did you think it would turn into this…nightmare.
It was a full blown terror now, seeing who she truly was, her true colors…it was all still so disorienting, even with the time apart. Having a hard time believing this is who she was even though you saw it for yourself.
You watched as she tried to take away your happiness for her own gain, you watched as she selfishly almost murdered not only you, but Mina…and what she did to Jihyo and the people she supposedly loved…all of you put in harms way.
A violent narcissistic temper tantrum was all it was and at the cost of all her relationships.
Taking another deep breath, wincing at the broken and bruised ribs, you take your second to calm down. Needing to keep her here and calm was the biggest thing so the police could do their job.
It’s hard to remain neutral when all you want to do is lash out at her, tell her that she will never be anything to you anymore but you know she’s not going to listen…she hasn’t listened the last few times you’ve said it, you suspect she would only be worse this time.
Wrapping your hand around the knob, you open the door- the creak of the hinges only adds to the tension already built up in your body.
Stepping inside, Nayeon is waiting for you by the counter, smiling and giddy, bouncing in her place with little happy movements- the exact opposite of that you were feeling.
“Welcome home, baby!” Walking towards you with her arms spread to hug you.
Flinching at the action, you take a step back and lift your hands to shield yourself from whatever she might do.
Nayeon stops in her tracks, sniffling and pursing her lips. Her brows furrow harshly, smacking her lips and going back over to the counter where she was when you walked in.
“Are you scared of me, baby?” The pain and sorrow reflected in her question rings through your bones, a dull ache that made its way down your body.
“You know the only reason I’m here is because you threatened Momo and Dahyun…and don’t call me baby.” anger filled words with the sharpest inflection, spewing venom towards the snake.
Nayeon lets out one chuckle, it’s evil in nature and aggressive.
“I figured that was the only way to get you here…Sorry about your little girlfriend. I know you’re probably mad at me for that, but you’ll forgive me in time. You will see that you and I are meant for each other.” wincing as she walks over to the couch, a predator who didn’t feel threatened finding a place to perch.
Nayeon plops into her usual spot and pats the seat next to her, looking you in the eyes to see if they have softened for her the way they used to.
Crossing your arms, the rage swells into fury.
“How dare you?…How can you possibly think that I would ever come back to you after everything you’ve done?!” Voice raising at every syllable.
“You cheated on me, stalked me, threatened to harm people I care about, you pointed a fucking gun at my face, you shot Mina, trashed my apartment, and you think that I’m going to what…just crawl back to you, Nayeon?! You’re fucking delusional!” Screaming at her, releasing every ounce of hatred you had.
A laugh that echoed the sound of pure hell added fuel to the fire the moment it left her lips. Nayeon stood up and walked over to the counter again.
“You don’t have a choice, baby! You loved me once…and you can love me again. Either you stay here with me…” unsheathing a large kitchen knife from the butcher block on the counter.
“Or you lose everyone you love and not just M-Mina…” Nayeon chokes on her name, a single tear falls from her eye.
The admission of her intent to kill only swells your rage more, the fire in your veins fueling every poison laced sentence you spit in her direction.
“Don’t you dare say her fucking name, Nayeon! You don’t get to play sad for the things YOU did…I’m not agreeing to anything you want, Nayeon. Not now, not ever.” Clenching your jaw while trying to wait out the clock but you’re getting more restless by the second.
Nayeon slides a piece of paper over to you, knife still in hand - a silent threat.
It’s a marriage certificate with her name and yours written on it.
“You sign this…” clicking a pen open and placing it next to the contract.
“Or I will take everything and everyone you love away from you…it’s your choice.”
The calmness she has about her is an eerie cockiness, batting her big brown eyes at you like it would make a difference.
Emotional whiplash, the bounce between insanity and the Nayeon you fell in love with makes your chest hurt.
You’re disgusted by her, her true colors are showing in a way that paints her in the worst light and her soft attempts to show you that the gentle part of her still exists.
Looking over at the clock, the time reads 9:40pm…only 5 more minutes. You just needed to keep her here for only 5 more minutes.
Picking up the paper and scanning it over, you look up at her to see the ring you purchased sitting on her finger…The pear shaped diamond in the middle with little diamonds laid into a rose gold band.
The one you bought planning to propose… the one you showed her after you found out about Jihyo…your face twists in disgust.
Pinching the paper at the top, you are sure to look right in her eyes and you rip it right down the center, tossing it mindlessly to the floor.
“Hear me when I say this, Nayeon…I will never marry you. In fact, the most peace I have ever felt was when Jihyo told me she shot you and that you were dead. For that day, I was completely and totally fine. You have terrorized me long enough.” Voice getting shaky as the fear clings to you, chest tightening with each word.
“Look at the lengths you’ve gone…look at how much worse it actually is. You’ve hurt more than just me in this, you’ve hurt Mina, Jihyo, and every other member as well…”
“Had you actually been the person you showed me you were, we could’ve had it all…but you aren’t and you never were…you never will be that and I do not want anything to do with you.” Hearing the words leave your mouth was healing in a way, something you had said to her previously, but she failed to understand.
“I already took her from you. Mina is gone, Y/n. So who do you have now? You need me!” Watching as she gripped the knife like she was trying to strangle it teeth clenched and muscles flexing and her own anger boils over…she’s about to crack.
“SHE STOLE YOU FROM ME SO I TOOK HER FROM YOU! SHE CAN’T HAVE YOU LIKE I’VE HAD YOU!” Slamming her fists down, shaking the counter and everything on it, huffing and breathing heavy while tries to expel the hatred of the one who “stole” you.
Nayeon winces at her own wounds before cackling manically and taking a step towards you, she pulls the knife up over her head and swings down at you.
Dodging the blade, you push her back against the counter.
The shriek released from her was hard to hear, the physical and emotional pain she was going through…you were there too but in a very different light.
“Nayeon! Stop this!” Backing up towards the door, reaching for the knob.
“Don’t you DARE fucking LEAVE! I ruined my LIFE FOR YOU! FOR US!” Another swing of the knife, her heaving breath filling the room as she continues to slash in your direction.
“I’ve been gone this entire time! You have done nothing but make my life a living hell! Put the fucking knife down!” Managing to maneuver around her swings quickly, expertly avoiding the sharp slashes as they cut through the air.
Fear takes over, terrified at the attempts to harm you again. How could it be so easy for her to just attack you like this? Grappling with the extent she would go to get what she wanted, you can’t understand even now how she would be so willing to harm you.
Managing to gain a little distance from her, you watch as her arm cocks back. Dropping to the floor you hear this whistle of the knife and a loud thud in the wall behind you.
The blade sticks into the wall, wobbling from the sheer force she threw it with.
Clock reading 9:43pm - you just needed to get through 2 more minutes and everything would be fine.
“YOU. ARE. MINE.” Throwing anything she can get her hands on at you.
Coffee pot, pans, silverware, the crystal vase…everything.
Dodging most things being pelted at you, the crystal vase hits your back - shattering and scattering all over the floor, a few shards imbedded in your flesh.
Sucking air between your teeth, you reach down to try and shakily pull the shards you can see out. The sound of the blood covered crystal hitting the floor shocks Nayeon out of this jealous filled rage.
“Oh my god…baby, I’m…I’m so sorry.” Rushing over to you with a towel to try and stop your bleeding.
Flinching on her approach, you take a fearful step away from her.
“Stop! Don’t touch me!” Tears now spilling, you move and the shards you can’t reach dig deeper into your side, torturously shredding you from the inside.
“P-please let me help you…” Nayeon is crying and sulking at her own mess, the craziness behind her eyes is still very present.
“No! I said don’t touch me!” sobbing as the terror sinks deeper.
Nayeon suddenly runs at you, swinging her fists violently. She manages to land a few punched on your face and ribs. The pain erupts from your chest, crying out into the living room where your illusion of happiness died.
Not letting you fall to the ground, she holds you up and drags you to the couch only to throw you down on it.
Straddling you, she wraps her hands around your throat and squeezes. Air being immediately cut off, you fight to get her off you.
“If you won’t be with me, then you won’t fucking be with anyone!” Hissed in your face as her digits tighten around your throat.
Fighting with every ounce of strength you have, you attempt to tell her to get off you but her grip is too tight. Tugging and pulling on her fingers, you grasp at her face and arms trying to just breath.
Vision is fading to black, you can feel the blood in your head trying to find a way out - tasting blood in your mouth…was this really it?
What about Mina? Thought to yourself…what about the life you could build with her. Her face flashes in your minds eye, you need to live for her…you can’t give up just yet.
Allowing your body to go limp, you lay still when you feel Nayeon’s hands retract. She starts bawling her eyes out, laying her head on your chest with her hands over her face.
“What have I done?…what the fuck have I done?!” Feeling her body shake on top of you while she sobbed into you.
Bawling your hand up into a tightly woven fist, you swing, knocking her clean off you and onto the coffee table - causing the glass top to break underneath her.
Trying to stand and catch your breath, there’s a heavy knock at the door.
Nayeon stands up, dripping blood from her back - panicking, eyes darting around to try and find her escape.
“You aren’t getting away this time, Nayeon!” Horsely yelled at her through the knocking.
Her face turns beat read, a fury like you’ve never seen before.
She walks over to the kitchen and pulls the knife out of the wall with a sharp jolt - never letting her eyes leave you.
Taking a step towards you, she hears the rattle of the door again.
“OPEN UP, IM NAYEON! WE HAVE YOU SURROUNDED!” The burly sheriff yells, you hear the battering ram slam into the door - it budges slightly.
Nayeon runs at you, wrapping her arm around your throat to get you in her grasps. She places the blade on your throat and is waiting for the door to break.
The wood explodes out of the frame, a million splinters waiting to be had across the floor as the three police men file in, guns drawn and ready to fire.
The problem being you in the way, she was using you as a human shield.
“DROP THE KNIFE!” The sherif yelled, she did not comply.
“Put your guns down or I’ll slice her throat and let her bleed out.” Calmly, almost gentle in nature. How can she have such a calm demeanor, you can feel her heart beating out of her chest as she tugs you even closer to her, metal still to the skin of your throat.
Panic set into you, the adrenaline was too much and your heart was racing. Feeling the droplets of blood gather through the slices and drip down your side, slithering down your body - you hear a familiar voice breaking the concentration of keeping Nayeon’s knife off your skin.
“Nayeon…put the knife down!” An angelic voice rings from behind the men.
Hearting filling with dread as you break out in a cold sweat. No! Why is she here?! She can’t be in this dangerous situation.
“No!” You shouted past the officers.
“Don’t come in here!” Nayeon tightens her grip again, pulling you to get you to stop fighting her grasp.
Already fighting her way in, Nayeon gasps when she sees Mina slowly making her way into the room, tightening her grip on you and scooting the knife up higher on your throat.
Feeling the blade start to separate your top layer of skin, a single drop of crimson descends your throat, the police see this and take aim at Nayeon.
“Mina…W-what? H-how did you?” Mina simply raises her hand at Nayeon.
“Nayeon, let Y/n go…you know this isn’t what you want.” Her voice is so soft…and sweet…this is an awful time to swoon but you can’t help it.
Willingly putting herself in harms way to try and help you, to get you out of this situation. She steps in front of the officers and tries to defuse this.
“You don’t fucking know what I want, Mina! I wanted you dead and out of the picture but it looks like neither of us are going to get what we want!”
Nayeon’s tight grip of you faulters, you wedge your fingers under hers and push them a few centimeters away from your skin so the knife isn’t in contact with you anymore.
This is enough to distract her from everyone else, pushing against you to bring it closer to your throat to keep her leverage.
The push and pull ensues and no one makes a single move, cops won’t shoot because you’re in front of her, Mina is crying and begging for Nayeon to stop when it dawns on you…
“N-Nayeon! If you love me like you say you do…then put the knife down!” Strained and tired, the please escape you.
Nayeon hesitates, her grip loosens for a moment and you take the opportunity to break free - using her own strength against her and launching her back against the window, causing it to break.
Running to Mina, you wrap your arms around her. Safety with a beautiful face, you fight your sobs in the grips of her.
This wasn’t over yet.
“If you are with her…” Nayeon starts “Then I have nothing to be here for…” slamming the hilt of the knife into the already cracked window - the spill of the glass furthers everyone’s focus on her. There is an echo of the glass hitting the side walk down below.
Whipping around, you see Nayeon sit on the window sill, the cops are shouting and you take a massive step towards her.
“Get off the window! Now!” The men yell, but her focus remains on only you.
“Y/n, I love you…I’m sorry.”
“STOP!” Yelled, tearing your vocal cord with the shear force of the scream.
Everyone freezes, silence fills the room.
“Don’t do this, Nayeon. Please.” Begging through tears, you can feel Minas energy shift.
Taking another step forward, you watch how Nayeon is analyzing you…only one way to save this, only one way to save her…not wanting her to take this route out, you were going to see this through.
“Nayeonnie…please don’t do this…if you love me, you won’t do this…” reaching a hand out to her, trying to get her to co-operate by using her own tactics against her.
The old nickname rings through the room, hitting her ears and creating a tense moment of old memories. A sob breaks from her chest, reaching for your hand and locking her fingers with yours.
“Come on, let’s go…we can figure it out together, like we always do…right, baby?” This seems to be working, she’s got her hand in yours, hyperventilating as the ocean pours out from her eyes.
“Don’t you get it, Y/n?” Nayeon sniffles.
“There is no out.” Swinging the knife and slicing you across the chest violently, the unexpected movement as you thought you had her in your grasps by giving her what she wanted.
A loud boom claps through the room as the warm crimson spills out from your skin, it’s a surface wound - thankfully but the blood is still ever flowing.
Looking at Nayeon and watching it in slow motion as the blood spilled from her own chest…her knees hit the ground, dropping the knife on her way and toppled over onto her side - gasping for air and coughing up her own life force.
Instinctually, you rush over to her and places your hand over her would to keep the blood in. The cops call an ambulance, and you try to hold in the tears now that the danger has been quelled.
“Y/n?” Choked out between wheezes and coughs.
“Yeah?” Sadness in the tone of your reply, you never wanted it to come to this…you wanted her to be held accountable but…this is…not what you imagined.
“Can I…ask you…something?” Her voice getting quieter as the sentence carries on.
Nodding your head, a tear breaks free from your eyes.
“Do you believe we can turn into different people?” Almost a whisper this time.
“I watched it happen to you…” replied through the tightness of your throat and the ache of what was happening in front of you.
“Do you wish that you loved me?”
The questions burns in your ears, stinging it’s way down your neck to your chest and down to your stomach.
“…No. I wish I didn’t.” Words hitching as you sniffle through them.
Nayeon lets out a soft chuckle, lifting her had with the rest of the energy she had to wipe the tears from your eyes.
“It’s been so long since I’ve touched your face, I forgot what it feels like…” tears of her own spilling as she chokes on more of her own blood.
“I wish I never reminded myself…I tried to fix it all but…nothing seemed to help.” Breathed through the trauma she had endured throughout this night.
“I’m sorry my love…I’ll be better in the next life.” Coughing and hacking after the sentence only for her body to go limp in your arms, eyes open but staring at nothing as she takes her last and final breath.
Time is frozen for you and you only, the cops lift you from her and move you over to Mina who is still crying and waiting for you with open arms.
“Get her out of here!” The cop instructs Mina, she guides to the door and into the hallway.
“Let’s go downstairs and wait for the ambulance to get here, okay?” Staring at your hands, covered in Nayeon’s blood and seeing your own shirt soaked in a mixture of yours and hers…you come up with responses or even know what to speak out loud.
Mina takes the lead and takes you out of what once was your home, now only serving as a point as a headstone to the memory of Im Nayeon.
—
The sherif and first responders bring down the gurney with the body bag on it, packing it into the second ambulance and sending it off to the morgue.
The EMT responsible for stitching up your chest and removing the shards from your side mentioned to Mina that you were in a state of shock and should be okay in an hour or so, offering to let you sit on the tailgate of the vehicle until you were okay to drive.
Mina never left your side.
Not once since she had you again.
Phone vibrating next to you, rattling against the metal and startling both you and Mina. She picked up the phone, answering it quickly.
It’s Momo.
“Yeah, Y/n is okay. A few more stitches in her chest and she’s in shock but she’s okay…Mhm, yeah…” Mina looks at you with sad eyes, she was going to say it out loud.
“Momo, Dahyun…Nayeon is…Nayeon is dead.”
Silence.
“She was shot by one of the police officers. She tried to kill Y/n with a knife…it’s a lot, I know…Yeah we can meet you there once Y/n calms down a little more…okay…okay text me the address…alright I’ll see you soon. Bye.” Hanging up and sitting next to you.
Reaching over to Mina, you grab her left hand and lean your head on her shoulder. Wrapping her right arm around you, she just holds you closely. Giving you a forehead kiss and cooing that everything is okay now.
The only thing that felt okay, was her.
—
Mina hired people to clean up your apartment, paying the lease and moving you in with her. After a few weeks you and her both were mostly healed, ribs no longer broken…only the physical and emotional scars remain.
Though you lived together, most of your relationship was taking care of one another’s wounds and making sure the panic attacks had someone to combat them but what you really wanted was to build on the already solid foundation.
It was hard.
On both of you.
The girls came over every few days to check in, making sure that you both were doing okay. Momo called you every day, coming over most days of the week to cook for you and Mina.
Appreciating everything that everyone was doing to show up for you, there was a grey wash over you. Something you couldn’t explain, but it was noticeable to everyone…you weren’t as cheery and joy filled as you were…before.
Often waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, panicking from the nightmares of Nayeon holding a gun to your face or a knife to your throat - you would sob and Mina would hold you.
Three months of this was driving you crazy, never truly resting the way that you needed to, you drowned in your head and your thoughts - the flashbacks so unsettling that all you can do is sit still and hope they pass quickly while trying not to cry.
The lack of sleep caused you to not be present more often than not. Unable to hold a conversation for longer than 5 minutes or focus on a tv show, playing video games…food was uninteresting, skipping meals most days- it worried Mina more than she led on.
One particular night, after jolting out of sleep from a nightmare, you got up and put on a robe to cover your mostly naked body before strolling into the living room and wandering to the balcony. Taking a seat in one of the rocking chairs, just taking in the calmness of the night when you heard the door creak behind you - startling you.
Mina steps into the moonlight, still in just her panties.
“Mind if I join you?” The tiredness in her voice made you want to send her back to bed but you knew she was going through the same things you were, but she was trying to be strong about it for you.
Nodding your head, she walked over to sit in your lap, her legs horizontally across your thighs so she could lean into you. Her skin was cold against yours, even with the chill, you welcomed this contact with her.
Throwing part of the robe over her legs and covering her back with the other part as best you could, you both just sit in silence, keeping each other warm and enjoy the night sky together.
Looking up at Mina’s beautiful face, your eyes trace down her body to the scar where the bullet entered…your throat tightens, eyes watering as you bring your finger up and lightly trace it.
“I’m sorry…” choked out through the attempt to keep yourself from sobbing.
“You have nothing to be sorry for, baby.” Reassuring you, placing a hand on the back of your neck and slipping it up into your hair.
“If I had jus-“
“No.” Cutting you off before you could finish the sentence.
“You did everything you could do. She was the one who couldn’t respect that she made a mistake and took that out on you and I…that’s not your fault…that’s her fault.” there is a hitch in her breath that makes you hold her just a little bit tighter.
Tears streaming down both of your faces, she traces the long sliced scar across your own chest and you sigh.
“My reflection doesn’t smile back at me anymore.” Whispered through the silence of the night, followed by your sniffles and you trying to clear your throat.
The silence continues for a moment.
“Your reflection is missing out…Mine smiles back at me because of you.” matter of factly stated.
“Because of me?” throat closing as you speak the words out loud.
“Absolutely because of you. You are amazing, Y/n…you are everything I’ve ever wanted in a partner and so much more…you have shown me that even in the worst of times, life can still be great. Look at what we went through together! Look at all what we survived…together. I know that things have been a little rough after the fact, but we are still building…and my intention is to keep building…with you.” Lightly crying in the memory.
“You and I, we can get through anything.” Smiling through the tears she had.
“Y/n, I love you…” cupping your face with her hands and kissing you softly.
The warmth of her love radiated through you, evaporating any doubt or self blame you were having. It was nice not having to question if she was telling the truth or not. Every single display of love was in her actions, though this was the first time she actually said it out loud, you had known for a while.
Lips parting, she placed her forehead on yours, looking you in the eyes.
“Okay?” With a silly tone, eye wide trying to provoke you to giggle.
“Okay.” Smiled back at her.
Rocking in the chair together for a few minutes, you realize that this is what you always dreamed of. The fantasy of having someone who wouldn’t give up on you, the openness to be able to talk about what was bothering you…hope for the future…
Mina, this type of undying love….this was what you wanted.
“Hey, Mina?”
“Yes, my love?” Facing you to make sure you know that her attention was yours.
“I love you too.”
She rests her head on your shoulder and sighs, relaxing her body into yours. This brings a comfort to you that you can’t elaborate.
“Do you want to go on a date tomorrow?” Feeling her voice reverberate in your chest as she asks.
“I would love to.” Planting a light peck on her forehead before resting your head there.
Continuing to sit calmly in the moonlight together, anticipating tomorrow as you calmly rock back and forth.
—
The brightness of the sun wakes you around 11am, calmly waking up for the first time in weeks. Mina is laying in your arms, still sleeping peacefully with her face in your chest. Not wanting to wake her just yet, you admire the calmness of the morning you’ve woken up to.
Mina shifts in her sleep, leaning into you more, and clinging to you even more. A small giggle erupts from you - feeling her smile into your skin, you stroke her hair.
“Good Morning, beautiful.”
“Good Morning, baby.” Her eyes still closed, tilting her head back and puckering her lips - asking you for a kiss.
Happily granting her wishes, you kiss her gently - a few soft sweet pecks before sitting up in bed. Nails tracing shapes on your lower back as you look over at her.
Bare faced and beaming up at you, you can’t help but think about how you got here. Everything that has transpired, all the heart ache and the worry…all of that leading up to this moment of waking up next to someone who would never dream of putting you through that.
In fact, she cares so much that she went through it with you…hand in hand.
Sighing, you lay back down with her, facing her and brushing a piece of hair out of her face just to tuck it behind her ear.
A bright gummy smile beamed at you sleepily, warmth in its light.
The sun couldn’t imagine the brightness or the warmth that she filled you with. Despite the scars and wounds you had both suffered together, she was still here…in the lowest point of your life she was a consistent ray of shining effervescent light.
“Do you know how special you are, Mina?” Tone turning serious for a moment, first thing in the morning.
“I could ask you the same question.” As she takes your hand off her face, softly kissing your palm before cuddling your arm.
The idea sprang into your head, something thought about in passing but too scared to focus on - you weren’t so scared anymore.
“Did you have anything planned for that date tonight?” Eyebrow raised and lips pursed.
“I was just about to ask what you wanted to do.”
“I’m…highjacking this date!” Jumping up and throwing on a pair of pants and a shirt.
“Hey! Where are you going?!” Leaping after you, wrapping her hands around your neck and clinging to you.
“I just highjacked a date, Mina! I have to make it special if I’m stealing it from you!” Smirking at her.
“Anything with you is special.” Kissing from your neck up to your jaw, making you totally weak in the knees.
“M-Mina! Stop trying to seduce meeeee!” The way you whined at her brought out that beautiful smile again.
Grabbing your wallet off the dresser, you hand her one of your cards.
“Baby, why are you giving me your card?” Confusion in her tone and concern on her face.
“Tonight’s date is all on me. All of it. So, do me a favor…” wrapping your arms around her waist and scooting her back to the bed so she’s seated.
“Take my card, go get your nails done and get an outfit for tonight.” Kissing her one last time before heading towards the door.
“But-“
“No buts! Unless it’s yours, then yes…butts.” Blowing her a kiss and slipping out the door.
Her giggle follows you.
—
Getting yourself a new outfit for the date as you were still replacing everything that was destroyed.
A medium grey sweater that hugged you perfectly, some fitted black slacks and black dress shoes. Mina would go crazy seeing you in this and that’s what you wanted.
Walking back to the car, you try not to pay too much attention to what’s across the street from the store you were in.
You hadn’t been there…maybe you should go. You know the number of the plot…
Before you could argue with yourself further you were pulling into the dirt parking lot and stepping out of the car.
Walking down the isles and counting until you hit the one you knew it was at.
Taking a deep breath, you walk to the stone and read it.
~Im Nayeon~
~Forever in our hearts~
Fans had scattered the grave with wreaths, photocards, flowers and candles that had burnt out all their life force.
You were just happy none of the fans were here to see you visiting so you could have your peace in this moment.
The company did a very good job at covering up how it all happened, burying police reports and blaming it on a car accident.
JYP had been collecting letters sent to the company for you, the world not knowing what she put you through…they offer sympathy but it only caused you more suffering. You opted not to read them.
The online comments about you being with Mina were hard to swallow, everyone placing bets on who you’d be with next when they had no idea what you had already been through with Nayeon.
The world never knew what she was or who she was. A secret kept from everyone in order to protect the privacy of Twice and you while you all healed.
Staring for a minute, you drop your head and have a moment of silence with yourself.
The birds are chirping, the sun is bright and you were about to propose to your girlfriend tonight but you were here…somberly staring at the cold stone slab that Nayeon was buried under.
“I’m going to ask Mina to marry me today, Nayeon…I know that probably doesn’t sit well with you.” A dull whisper of wind pushes your hair out of your face as you sit down in front of her grave.
“What you and I had…it wasn’t love…it was never love…and I know that because what you put me through is something I would never put Mina through…I wouldn’t have put you through it either.” Eyes staring to well up in anger and sadness, tears falling and hitting your pant legs with a thick rhythmic thwap.
“But…Mina is exactly what I’ve always wanted…she’s what I thought you were.” Taking a deep breath as you carry on.
“It’s still so hard to wrap my brain around. How did you go from humming in the kitchen and trying to make my coffee perfect to…shooting her and stabbing me? And what you did to Jihyo? I just…” choking on your words, face twisting in discomfort.
“Not in this life or the next…Goodbye, Im Nayeon.” Taking a second to blink the pain from your eyes, another deep breath, you stand up and walk back to your car.
You’ve got some preparing to do.
—
Next to stop for flowers, and then you’ll be ready to go and pick up Mina from your shared apartment.
Though it hadn’t been long since the two of you had been together, it felt like a life time. There was nothing you were more sure about than marrying her.
Grabbing a bouquet of 2 dozen roses, you are officially ready to return back to your apartment.
Pulling into the parking lot and going up the stairs, you hear the shower running. Taking the moment where Mina was distracted, you set up the flowers in the living room. Frilling them out and making sure they were perfect.
Once that was done, you went into the room - removing your shirt and pants on the way and heading straight for the bathroom to join Mina.
Angelic singing echoing against the tile, her shadow behind the frosted glass washing her hair.
Stripping out of your underwear, you knock lightly on that glass.
“Room for one more?”
“Hmmmm, I suppose I could make room.” Winking before stepping to the side and letting you into the drizzle of the shower head.
—
Mina stayed in the bathroom to dry her hair and style it while you went and got ready in the room. Slipping on your new slacks, you grab the sweater and slide it on before brushing it out as a nervous tick.
A spray of the sandalwood perfume you like and a watch, you’re almost ready to go.
Sneaking over to your sock drawer in the dresser and pulling out a little suede box and stuffing it in your pocket quickly.
“I want to surprise you with the dress I got so go to the living room when you’re finished!” Shouted with excitement.
“Yes Ma’am, leaving now.” Stepping out of the room and closing the door.
Thinking it is a little chilly outside, you should probably grab your jacket. There was a charcoal grey peacoat you had that would match, and hand an inner pocket to hide the ring.
Putting the jacket on, you tug the ring out of your back pocket and pop the box open.
It’s perfect.
An oval diamond on a platinum band with two smaller diamonds framing the one in the middle, classy and elegant just like her.
Closing the box, you put it in your jacket and take a deep breath. Nerves getting the better of you as you wait.
It didn’t take long for Mina to emerge from the bedroom. Hearing the door open, you turn your head to see your beautiful girlfriend.
Holy.
Shit.
A bright candy apple red cocktail dress, hair done in large beach waves with a nude lip. The embodiment of heaven blessing you with her presence, elegant and sexy…you were very lucky for so many reasons and very aware of that.
“Oh, wow…” standing up immediately, you walk over to her - jaw to the floor.
Suddenly Mina gasps at the roses set up for her on the coffee table.
“Honey! These are so beautiful!” Running over to them to stick her nose in them and take a deep whiff of their fragrance.
“Thank you.” The eyes she’s giving you sends a chill, jaw still on the floor at her in this dress.
“Can you help me?” Pointing to her back and turning around to reveal her zipper half way down.
Oh, the nerves persist, rattling you to your core. Hands shakily taking the small zipper and tugging it up, you release the metal and hear it rattle.
“Are you shaking? Did you eat today?” Concern in her voice, she turns around quickly to face you, brows furrowed in worry.
“Yes, I did eat.” Sheepishly, trying not to make eye contact.
The warmth in your cheeks gives you away to her.
“Y/n L/n, are you blushing right now?” Her hands go to hips, the smirk she gives you makes you cover your eyes.
“You’re cute when you blush.” Reaching for your fingers to hold your hand.
“You might still make me nervous…” timidly expressed with a chuckle.
“Nervous?! We are just going to dinner, my love! No need to be nervous.” Kissing your cheek and grabbing her shoes to slip on.
Strapped black heels to finish the look off and a black clutch to match.
Catching her eyeing you while she fixes the straps on her shoes, you wink at her and taking the moment of separation to grab her long black jacket out of the closet.
“Thank you for getting my jacket baby, and can I just say…you clean up so well.” Winking back at you as you hold her coat open for her so she could easily put it on.
“Thank you,” kissing her and admiring her.
“Ready?”
Mina nods her head at you, you hold the door for her while she steps out and you’re off on your date.
—
Dinner was smooth, taking her to a fancy steak house around the corner for your apartment. The food was great, the atmosphere was quiet and the conversation was immaculate as always.
Unsure of how you were going to pop the question, you just let the night take you where ever it may.
A glass of wine or two and you were feeling less nervous than before, now it was just a matter of timing.
Unwilling to ask her in public, you tried to think about what you could do or where you could take her that would be romantic and still personal.
“Wow, the sunset looks really pretty tonight.” Pointed out to you as you left the restaurant.
“Do you want to go watch it at the park?” Perfect idea.
“I’d love that.” Smiling up at you as you set off.
The park only being a block away was a big win, especially with her in those shoes. Clinging to your arm the entire way there, you find a bench in front of a stream and watch as the sun goes down.
Mina’s head is resting on your shoulder, still holding onto your arm and sighing into relaxation.
“Hey, Mina?”
“Hm?”
“Well…” the nerves returned rapidly as you start your speech.
“You know you mean the world to me? You’re so kind and caring, intelligent, thoughtful…I really respect and admire the person you are.”
*Deep breath, keep going*.
“Everyday, even the days that wouldn’t classify as great, since I’ve met you, you’ve only added to my life. I’ve grown so much…I value myself more, and I finally know what love truly means. Through out the relationship we’ve built, you constantly show up for me…you are an amazing partner and friend.” Running out of breath, forgetting to inhale and exhale while you talk.
Mina is looking you in the eyes, tearing up as you continue.
“I would not have made it through…the situation we were in without you…and to be honest, I don’t want to know another day without you as my partner. You are everything I dreamed of and so so so much more.”
Standing up and kneeling down on one knee in the gravel, you pull the box out of your jacket, anxiously trembling as you pop it open in front of her.
Mina’s hands cover her mouth as she gasps in shock at the ring, the tears are now freely falling as she covers her entire face with them.
“Mina Sharon Myoui, w-will you marry me?” Quivering through the most important sentence of your life.
Mina is aggressively nodding her head yes, sniffling and choking back happy tears while she extends her left hand towards you.
Slipping her ring on her finger, you kiss her hand and stand up only for her to follow you in a massive hug, sobbing into your neck and squeezing you.
“You are everything to me.” Her tightened throat squeaked out.
Meeting you face to face, placing her hands on your cheeks and bringing you in for a kiss drenched in pure love.
Resting your foreheads together, you’re smiling at each other- holding each other and living right in that moment where you’re supposed to be.
This is what they talk about in movies. This is what the love songs are written about.
This is Eden.
“So, future Mrs. Myoui, what would you like to do for the rest of the evening?” Starting to walk home hand in hand, Mina’s ring finger sparkling in the moonlight.
“Anything.”
“Anything?” Eyebrows raised, she has something in mind.
“Mhm, what are you thinking?” Kicking a pebble on the street as you walk.
Mina can’t seem to shake the smile she has, you share that sentiment.
“I can think of a few things, actually.”
“Oh, really? Like what?”
“Well, I might’ve bought more than just this dress…and I’m going to be honest, I’ve been staring at you all night.” A glimmer in her eye, a look.
THE look.
“More than just the dress, huh? I’m intrigued.” raising an eyebrow at her.
“…it’s actually under the dress.” Casually dropping the information.
“Drinks before dessert?” as you turn the key to your apartment.
“Whatever you want, soon-to-be Mrs. Myoui.”
#twice x reader#twice imagines#kpop x reader#kpop imagines#twice scenarios#nayeon x you#nayeon x reader#nayeon angst#nayeon imagines#twice im nayeon#nayeon#im nayeon#mina x reader#mina imagines#mina myoui#twice mina#myoui mina#myoui mina x fem!reader#mina x fem!reader#nayeon x fem!reader#nayeon x fem reader#nayeon x f!reader#Mina x f!reader#mina x femreader#mina x fem reader#twice nayeon
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Small piece of post-canon Jayvik fluff and hurt/comfort
Jayce sighs against the grass, deeply content, as Viktor kneads the sore muscles of his back. They should probably get going, leave this flower field they’ve been teleported to and go explore the world, but they both have been deprived of affection for so long… They need this first, need to let their love for each other gently bloom anew after this interminable winter.
They’ve exchanged countless kisses already, but somehow, this, the tender press of his partner’s metal hands into his flesh, feels even more intimate. Under his thorough care, a tension that has lingered for months evacuates from Jayce’s body. Wherever Viktor touches, the corruption that has been incessantly plaguing him recedes. He doesn’t know how that’s possible, nor does he care. At the moment, only the relief matters to his pleasantly dazed mind.
However, as those marvelous fingers reach the center of his back, Viktor stills for a second, hesitant.
“Is this alright? Your scar… I wouldn’t want to put too much strain on it.”
“ ‘S okay. Feels good.” Jayce mumbles.
Just like that, the blissful ministrations resume, although his partner lightly caresses the damaged skin more than he massages it. And as a perfect addition, Viktor leans down to put a kiss right in between his shoulder blades
“Very well. Just tell me if there are any spots I should avoid.”
“It’s fine. I’ve had time to heal and… I know you’ll be gentle. You can touch all of me.”
His partner chuckles warmly at his choice of words.
“Careful there, Jayce. I could take you up on that offer.”
Still, for all his teasing, his strokes remain chaste, with no other purpose than to release Jayce of his dull suffering.
“And maybe I’d like you to,” He dreamily replies. “Just… later?”
Because, while he desires Viktor more than he has ever desired anyone else, he also yearns to prolong this soft, gentle moment, to melt into it like snow under the sun. So, for now, he’d rather surrender himself to its healing warmth than expose his bruised body to the raging fires of passion.
Oh, he doesn’t doubt he’ll be able to withstand that blazing heat soon enough, looks forward to it, even, but first, his many injuries need to be soothed and tended to before he can truly flourish again. Most of those wounds aren’t even visible, hidden deep within the maze of his psyche, but Viktor knows how to reach them with his loving touch and comforting voice all the same.
“Of course. Later.”
On that soft murmur, he returns to his task, gentle, devoted. His hands map all of Jayce’s body; His broad back, of course, but also his neck, his knotted shoulders, his waist, his legs… Those receive special care, especially the hurt one.
Viktor runs his fingers all over the damaged calf until not a single trace of corruption remains there. Jayce cannot help but gasp as the persistent throbbing finally ceases. It doesn’t take all of his pain away, of course not – At this point, nothing won’t. But it is such a groundbreaking change that it brings tears to his eyes.
It’s not just about the physical relief, though. The corruption of that awful timeline receding from his flesh… It stands as an ultimate testament to their bond, undeniable evidence that in the end, Viktor chose him and he chose Viktor…
A dam within him breaks. His shrunken heart, which has been inevitably withering without his partner there to delicately nurture it, gets nearly drowned in love. Emotions he believed long dead, or at the very least forever stunted, violently blossom within his chest. An intense sob shakes his tall frame.
“Jayce!” Viktor exclaims, worried. “Did… Did I hurt you?”
Words alone cannot even begin to describe what he is feeling, so Jayce rolls around and pulls his distressed partner into a tight hug.
“No, no you didn’t. I’m sorry, it’s just… I’m so happy, you have no idea… I have you back. I… I really have you back.” He whispers in amazed disbelief.
Tears born of pure happiness and adoration veil Viktor’s honey eyes also. His hands come to rest on Jayce’s relaxed back and hold him close. To his surprise, they are warm against his skin.
Human.
Covered in rough scars, much like Jayce’s leg, but human.
They are making each other human again.
Another sob crawls its way up his throat at this beautiful discovery.
“Oh, Jayce. Of course, you have me back. I won’t be going anywhere without you. You said it yourself, haven’t you? We finish this together.”
Jayce kisses him. Not on the lips, like he has done so many times before, but on the side of his jaw, just so he can see the unfeeling metal give way to soft flesh. He watches in awe as that miracle takes place, then directs his attention higher, toward his partner’s cheek this time.
As he dutifully covers all of his partner’s face and neck in kisses, laughter bubbles up their chest, sweet and carefree. Jayce feels lighter than he has in years, no longer crushed under an unbearable weight.
For a moment, the entire universe stands still, except for the gentle sway of the flowers under the breeze.
For a moment, their hearts beat in perfect tandem.
For a moment, nothing exists but them.
#jayvik#jayce x viktor#jayce talis#jayce arcane#viktor arcane#my writing#I thought I would post it on here too#since it was one of the options of the poll I made a while back
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Adopted by the gods AU pt.17
Athena: *drops Diomedes at Argos palace, his grandfather (who totally was possibly alive at that point) waiting for him*
Diomedes:…do I have to go?
Athena: unfortunately My son…
Diomedes: mother I don’t know him!
Athena: Diomedes…
His grandfather: lady Athena..if I may?
Athena:…*nods*
Grandfather: *crotches down to his level* I know you don’t remember me, but I remember you. I wish I could’ve prevented your father from doing what he did, and could’ve raised you. I’m so sorry I didn’t get that chance, but I’m hoping you’ll trust me like you did your mother. *motions at athena*
Diomedes:…..*steps back and holds Athena’s hand, trying to hide in her wings* I want to stay with mother…
Grandfather: *sighs* I know…and I wish you could. She had informed me of your time with her and I wish it didn’t have to be cut short…but you can’t defy lord Zeus.
Diomedes: *looks up at athena* mother….🥺
Athena: *trying not to cry* I’m sorry my son..
Diomedes:…*hugs her legs and cries into her side*
Athena: *crotches down and hugs him close*
Diomedes: I love you…😭
Athena: I love you too my son....* let’s go and kissed the top of his head* I will be back, whenever you need me.
Diomedes: promise?
Athena: I swear on the River Styx
Diomedes: *one last hug, than goes inside with his grandfather*
Athena:……*wipes the tears off her face and takes Odysseus to Ithaca*
Anticlea: *waiting at the doors of the palace*
Athena: *glares at her*
Odysseus: *clings to athena*
Anticlea: I’m sorry….i really am. I wanted my son back as much as any mother would, but I wish it wasn’t under these circumstances.
Athena: somehow I don’t believe you.
Anticlea: *sighs* fine, don’t. Now please hand over my son.
Odysseus: IM NOT YOUR SON!!
Anticlea:….
Odysseus: *crying into Athena’s side*
Athena: *brings them into quick thought*
Odysseus: mama don’t make me go with them!
Athena: trust me, I don’t want to! If father didn’t threat to make it impossible for me to ever see you or your brother again I would’ve told him to shove it!
Odysseus: l hate this
Athena: I know…believe me I know.
Odysseus: and what if I don’t stay here? What if I run away?
Athena: you don’t think father thought of that? He’ll either strike you down or send his eagles after you.
Odysseus: this isn’t fair! All the other gods get to be happy and keep their kids why can’t you!?
Athena: *starting to tear up*…I don’t know..
Odysseus: but you know everything!
Athena: well I don’t know this!! I know the fates can fucking suck sometimes and unfortunately this is one of those times!
Odysseus: *crying* mama please…I don’t want to leave..I don’t want to be king!
Athena: *wipes the tears off his face* I know…but you won’t be alone. I’ll be here everytime you call for me, same for your brother. This ain’t goodbye forever…more of a see you later..
Odysseus: I wish I didn’t have to “see you later”. I want to just stay with you!😭
Athena: *hugs him one more time* I know…believe me I know. *brings them out of quick thought*
Odysseus: *pulls a small owl necklace out of his pocket and gives it to Athena*
Athena: *confused owl sounds* what’s this?
Odysseus: it’s so no matter where we are, we’re always together. *shows a matching one he’s wearing* I gave one to Diomedes before you took him to Argos
Athena: *holding back tears and puts it on* thank you my son..
Odysseus: …..*one last hug* bye mama
Athena: *hugs* goodbye Odysseus…
Odysseus:..*let’s go and walks to Anticlea*
Anticlea: *smiles ready to hug him*
Odysseus: don’t touch me… *walks right passed her*
Anticlea:….*glares at Athena and follows him inside*
Athena: *flies back to Olympus*
Aphrodite: *waiting in Athena’s room* …Thea?
Athena: *immediately breaks down sobbing*
Aphrodite: *goes over to her and holds her, letting her cry* sshhh..I know….i know it hurts
Athena: I fucking hate this….😭😭
#athena#athena epic#odysseus#epic the musical#greek mythology#athena goddess of wisdom#adopted heros au#epic odysseus#diomedes#odysseus and diomedes#king of ithaca#aphrodite
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regret
so. literally seven years ago, I started a 'series of firsts' style fluff-fic(let collection) for Malec/Shadowhunters... and I think part of why I got stuck on it in particular (even beyond the not writing much for the last couple years) is because it is in fact supposed to be in chronological order following the show and I had hit a point where I needed a... not!fluff chapter, and I kept trying to just... skip the sad and write more fluff for the fluff fic.
But I'm writing a vignette series for a melodrama. So. Melodrama has been written, of Alec Lightwood Overthinking Things but not being wrong, so how is he supposed to stop? (This takes place after s2e12, which is the disaster of a body swap episode, for anyone not so obsessed with the show as to know that off the top of their heads)
It is not the first time Alec has known that he’s not good enough for Magnus. He’s always known that, since the first time he laid eyes on him.
It is the first time that he thinks Magnus might agree with him.
Magnus said he wanted some space. Tonight (just tonight implied but not stated by the softness of his voice, the brush of his fingers against the seam of Alec’s sleeve) Magnus wanted some quiet.
So Alec left Magnus alone, and now he’s standing in his institute bathroom staring into the institute mirror gripping the white porcelain edges of an institute sink, trying to decide if that was right.
He doesn’t think it was, but he’s not sure if it’s the space that’s wrong, or the just for tonight.
He knows which he wants it to be, but that’s irrelevant.
Magnus likes to retreat when he’s hurt, but that doesn’t mean that’s good for him; Alec might not have known Magnus for long, but he recognizes a protective flinch when he sees it. And if that’s the case, then Alec should in fact head right back out and refuse to let Magnus hide and hold him tight until Magnus feels like he's himself again.
But Alec didn’t believe what Magnus said too many times already, he can’t…
He can’t go against Magnus’ request, not now that he finally made one. Always letting Alec set the pace, waiting for Alec to reach out, for Alec to act, to ask, and when he finally lets himself say what he wants?
It’s less of Alec, rather than more.
Smart of him, of course. Alec would never blame him for it, especially not after Azazel and Valentine and Alec failing him in every way it was possible to fail. There has always been a disparity between what Magnus deserves and what Alec is capable of offering; perhaps it is too large of one to ever be overcome.
Only he knows he wants to keep trying.
He also knows that staring at his mirror and overthinking things is his own protective flinch.
Magnus said he doesn’t know what he needs. Alec is mostly sure that’s true, that if Magnus knew that Alec caused more harm than could possibly be worth it he would say so — but only mostly. Magnus has been abandoned too many times to be the person leaving unless he’s sure.
Not even then, perhaps.
Alec has some idea of how many times Magnus forgave Camille, and she was cruel on purpose, unlike Alec who keeps twisting the knife entirely by accident.
If Magnus won’t do it, Alec will have to. He refuses to walk Magnus down a road to hell paved by his own so-called “good intentions”. He’ll stay away forever if that’s better for Magnus, regardless of how Alec feels about it, will feel about it, will always feel about Magnus. It’s only right, not letting Magnus suffer the consequences of trying to be involved with–
Alec stops himself there.
Anything he thinks to call himself, any self-assessment he can manage right now, will be more severe than anything Magnus would think, or say, or even accept if Alec tried to say it, so it won’t help him decide what to do.
He has to figure out how to help in a way that Magnus will accept, and if he leads with a list of all his failures, Magnus will be happy to try and make Alec feel better and aggressively avoid letting Alec try to help him.
Alec doesn’t need to feel better. Aldertree’s gone, Isabelle’s back, (Imogen’s difficult but familiar), and Jace is, while still fucked up, at least not trying to smother the parabatai bond so tightly that Alec feels like he’s being strangled in his sleep every night.
So.
Alec sighs, lets go of the sink, forces his shoulders to relax.
This is the first time that Magnus has said he needs space, but considering the politics of their lives, even now that Valentine’s in custody (especially now, considering everything Herondale did to Magnus in Valentine’s name), it probably won’t be the last.
Alec can’t override that, not just because he’s sad and guilty and young and stupid.
He just has to learn better.
He’s always had to be better than he is, he’s not sure why he thought things with Magnus might be different.
That’s not Magnus’ fault though, and he can’t let himself start to think about it in terms of hopes dashed or desires failed because then he will be upset at the only person who has never ever let him down, despite all Alec’s failures and stumbles.
He doesn’t deserve Magnus, of course he doesn’t, but that’s all right. It’s Magnus’ turn to make a choice, and he can have all the time and space he needs to do so.
Alec will wait.
He’ll wait forever, if he has to.
He’ll wait past forever, this life and the next; he’s already made his choice.
#jilly writes#shadowhunters#malec#alec lightwood#kisses are a better fate than wisdom#I feel like I used to tag things more but I'm not at all sure what else this needs?#lmk if you have any ideas y'all#I have apparently forgotten how to tumblr#as well as almost forgetting how to write
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older gf!tashi is invading my mind… doing something for her birthday, making it a whole day affair like starting with a bike ride and then going to her favorite cafe. snuggling at home with a movie on and then going out for a nice dinner. giving her presents and with every one her face is heating up more and more because no one has even known her so well.
sigh. forever thinking about her
hi i’m so happy you guys love older gf!tashi so much because i love her so much and she won’t leave my mind!! i could write about her forever!! and i just might!!
she’s been talking about this bike trail along the side of a mountain for what feels like months now. you don’t trust your biking skills nearly enough to do this, but you love her, so what’s a broken rib? waking up bright and early to set out her first gift — a brand new zip up, one of those tight ones with the thumb holes in the sleeves. she loves those things. a matching pair of leggings folded on top. waking her up with a kiss to the forehead and a quiet “c’mon, birthday girl”. she comes out of the room with a bright smile and sleepy face, her hair pulled back into a ponytail that flips around when she does a little spin for you, her hand grabbing under your jaw gently to pull you into a kiss.“i love it, thank you” she mutters before kissing you again and grabbing her water bottle to fill up.
before you know it, you’re following close behind her up the side of this steep mountain, yelling at the back of her head about how this is making you want to shit your pants from how nervous you are. the second you get to the top of the trail she takes out her ten year old digital camera, snapping pictures of the sky, your profile, your shoes, her eye, anything that she thinks might look nice in a scrap book one day. sweet lady.
after more than a few kisses and a long talk by the summit (never too close, you’re too nervous), it’s back down the mountain and to the car, off to her favorite little mexican cafe. she gets a hot chocolate because of course she does. you’d swear she changed her life the second you introduced her to abuelita. she never finishes her concha, always more than insistent that you share with her because she won’t eat it later. you never share, she always eats it later. you pay, she complains about it, you go home. all the biking and talking and hot cocoa drinking got the both of you sweaty — you shower together. running your hands through her hair, massaging shampoo into her scalp, kissing and nipping at her neck and chest and cheeks, telling her how lucky you are. you get so caught up in feeling her, in practically worshipping her kiss after kiss, that you don’t even process that she’s washing your hair while you do so.
after the shower it’s robes and wine, some cheese from trader joe’s that she says she’s too full to eat while stuffing her face with it. she leans into you all curled up, her brows furrowed while she picks a movie. you both fall asleep thirty minutes into the waterboy. the grating sound of your alarm startles the both of you, but it’s the fact that you’re bound to be twenty minutes late to your reservation that gets you on your feet. she wears a her prettiest jewelry and fanciest knit sweater, you wear some skirt from the bottom of your drawer and the boots she got you last week. more kisses, more giggling, one smack on the ass from her trying to get you out the door.
she loves martinis. god, why does she love martinis? what’s worse is that she gets you to take a sip every time, then you end up chugging half of your mai tai to try and chase the olive taste out. she orders steak fritz, you order truffle ravioli. you laugh about your friends and how dysfunctional their relationship is, how bad that pie they brought to thanksgiving was. you never tell the staff it’s her birthday; you’d rather spare her the awkward song and sparklers and just pay for whatever dessert she wants. she wants some lemon ricotta pastry, but she wants you to get the german chocolate cake so you two can share. she tells you that she wants to read the midnight library, you tell her you’ve heard good things about it. she wonders if she should get into pottery, you wonder what mugs and bowls her pretty hands could craft. after forks scraping frosting and a weird lemon dessert that you both hated, it’s back home.
you’re all too eager to get her in the house, all giddy as you unlock the door and drag her into the room, pulling out all her gifts from your side of the closet. she’s always sort of hated gifts. she’s used to perfumes and heels and lingerie — shit she doesn’t need and “should” want. a card, three boxes, and a bag. she goes for the card first, reading the lengthy message you left in there before peeling open the piece of folded paper inside. a cooking class in the heart of the city. just for her, you didn’t even bother booking a couple’s class. “you don’t like sharing the kitchen” you laugh softly, “n’ i figured it would be a nice personal thing”. the woman likes her solo hobbies, who doesn’t? you watch with warm eyes as she starts ripping at the brown parchment wrapping of the first box. brand new hokas, the ones she’s been refusing to buy herself because it seemed like a waste of money. after that is a brand new film camera. she mentioned it once at some point, and you’re sure of that by the look on her face. the box after that is just rolls of film and a little book about photography.
lastly, her bunny. that is, her stuffed bunny from when she was like… six. she hasn’t stopped talking about the thing pretty much since you met, always complaining about how it had to be somewhere in her mom’s attic. it was — it was ratty and faded and hers, a popped off eye and loose stitching. you sent it to one of those people on etsy who revives stuffed animals, now it’s nearly new. you can’t tell if it’s the lighting or the three martinis, or maybe she’s just genuinely a little emotional, but you can’t swear you see tears brimming in her pretty eyes.
i’m so sorry this is so long wow. wow wow wow
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One of the perks of being King means that he can talk to the Realms Herself and She usually responds. One of the cons is that She likes to mess with him. A lot. Especially when it’s inconvenient for him.
Phantom and Deadman found themselves outside the Phantom’s Keep, the castle in the middle of the Realms. She’d made the trip quick for them, but had been oddly silent the whole why. When they’d arrived, Phantom knew why.
When Dark Pariah had been sealed in the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep, Pariah’s Keep had deteriorated, breaking down and collapsing on itself. When Phantom took the Crown and Ring, the Keep rebuilt itself, changing to better fit Phantom. Looking at it now, though, it was changing again. The changes were unnatural, and obviously not the Realms’ doing.
Someone was making a claim before a challenge.
“Why did you hide this from me?” he asked the Realms. She didn’t answer.
“I’ll go report this back to the others,” Deadman said, “Do you think you’ll be able to come back?”
Phantom sighed, “Before this is dealt with? I don’t know.” He paused, his eyes still not leaving the Keep.
“You have an idea of who’s behind this, huh?”
“Yeah. I think he’s behind everything.”
“What?”
“The Comas that are practically a plagiarism of Nocturn’s work? Someone trying to open a portal into the Realms? It all screams human-orchestrated, but I think there’s a ghost pulling the strings.”
“Vengeful?”
“Most definitely.”
“What do we do?”
“Tell the others that I’m officially taking over the investigations. All of them. Have Constantine and Zatanna go to the League of Assassins, take a Bat if they need, and shut down anything that even looks like it could be a portal. If they can get Ra’s near the Pits, I’ll take care of it from there from inside the Realms. As for the Comas, I want you to take the Speedsters and the Supers and investigate any hauntings in the areas where the coma patients live.”
“Are you sure bringing them is a good idea? What if they get overshadowed?”
“Any Spirit or Ghost hauntings shouldn’t be strong enough to overpower them, but the House might have something to protect them. Take Captain Marvel, too, just in case.”
“Alright. Anything else?”
“Have Batman, Raven, and Wonder Woman, look into the D.M.A, specifically the branch that used to be the G.I.W.”
A gasp. “You don’t think…”
“They’re involved somehow, I know it.”
“Alright.” Deadman said, “You’ll be safe, won’t you, Phantom?”
“‘Course I will.”
***
Deadman made it back using the same door he and Phantom had come through in the first place, largely because that’s where the Realms lead him. The House greeted him on the other side, changing the halls so he’d be with the rest of his team almost immediately.
Zatanna was the first to see him. “Deadman!”
“What’s going on?” Constantine asked, “Why’d you two rush out like that?”
“We’ve got a problem.”
“Well, that’s comforting.” Raven snarked.
Deadman shook his head. “Get Batman, Superman, The Flash, and Wonder Woman on a call. I need to talk to all of you.”
“That can’t mean anything good,” Zatanna said, doing as asked.
The House brought them a T.V. for the conference call, Zatanna stepped out to make sure Superman was paying attention. Soon, everyone that had been asked for was present in the call, masks on of course, and in their respective bases.
“King Phantom asked me to inform you all that he’s officially taking lead on both the Portal Case and the Coma Case.” Deadman started, “With recent evidence, he believes them to be connected.”
“Where is Phantom?” Wonder Woman asked.
“Someone’s attacked Phantom’s Keep in the Infinite Realms, so he’s dealing with that.” Clearly, everyone had questions, but he ignored them. “He wants Constantine, Zatanna, and one of Batman’s cauldron-” there were snickers at the name, “-to go to the League of Assassins base of operations and shut down anything that seems to be related to the portal, natural or artificial. He also wants you guys to try and get Ra’s close to the Lazarus Pits.”
“Why?” Batman grunted.
Deadman shrugged, knowing the exact reason, “He didn’t tell me.”
Batman hummed, typing something on another monitor. “Take Red Robin with you. He’ll be able to get you in and out safely,”
“Alright,” Constantine nodded.
“Flash and Superman? Phantom wants you and your sidekicks to come with me and Captain Marvel to check out the Coma Case. He has a theory he wants us to check on.”
“Which is..?” Superman prompted, Superboy popping into frame behind him.
“If he’s right, then we’ll find some Ghosts or Spirits near where our victims were affected.”
“Oh, no,” Flash shook his head, “I’m not about to get myself, Kid, or Impulse haunted!”
Impulse ran in, skidding to a stop right on the edge of the frame. “What’s this about ghosts?”
Kid Flash was the next in, “Are we going ghost hunting? I’ll go get our stuff!”
“You have ghost hunting gear?” Superboy asked.
“Don’t you?” was the response.
“I guess that matter’s settled,” Superman sighed.
Wonder Woman muted both Superman and The Flash so the conversation could continue. “And the rest of us?”
“Batman, Raven, and Wonder Woman. He wants you to look into the Department of Metahuman Affairs. Specifically a branch formerly known as the Ghost Investigation Ward.” He watched their expressions carefully, though none of the three he was speaking to reacted. “Phantom thinks they have something to do with this, too.”
There were a few beats of silence before Raven spoke. “I guess we should get started.”
“Right,” Batman said like he was in charge, “Dismissed.”
Part 23 Part 25
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hey, I hope this is okay to ask since you’re now talking about stackie on here again.
do you have thoughts on what happened between them, like genuinely. do you think they were just friends with benefits, fell in love along the way and til this day these feelings are still there, or more? sometimes seb says these painfully sincere things about him that make it sound like he’s in love with him and sometimes he’s all snarky and says he hates him. without even too much tinhatting what do you think about them?
okay so I’m gonna lay out a range of Scenarios in decreasing likelihood/increasing tinhatting, on the agreement that we are all just foolin around thinking out some thoughts none of this is real and I do have a hold on my normal brain
1) the intense situational friendship
we’ve all been there. A workplace that puts you in constant intense contact with each other and destroys your ability to maintain normal external life while you’re in the middle of it (filming, press tour) and before you know it you’re trauma bonding over cigarettes in the back of the parking lot and swearing you’ll be bffs forever and nobody knows you like they know you
and then you quit or the film wraps or the junket is over and you make all this big noise about staying friends and catching up but inevitably your new reality begins to get in the way, plus after a year or two you can’t sustain catch ups that revolve around work gossip when you’re not in the middle of that shit anymore, and it’s not that either of you are deliberately fading out it’s just that friendships like that naturally ebb over time but u still got a soft spot for your guy your pal your best marvel bro
2) the intense situational friendship but you act a little gay about it
maybe you’re gay, maybe you’re not, some straight dudes are pretty fun about idle gay flirting for the bit, and platonic chemistry looks like flirtation from the outside anyway so you let everyone give you the side eye and keep sharing cigarettes in a way that’s a little bit too close for anyone to NOT wonder
3) the intense situational work-crush, one-sided
it’s the above but one of you is super gay about it for real not for the bit
and maybe you know or maybe you don’t, maybe the other guy knows or maybe HE don’t, as above some straight dudes will just flirt for the bit but anyway it’s more likely he doesn’t know it’s real for you or at least he’s gonna keep the facade up
so you say some weird stuff to and about each other and play it up for the interviews and it could pass for platonic chemistry but you gotta keep the yearning on lock or you wind up accidentally looking at your work friend like he’s the sun moon and stars and then you’re lying in bed that night like FUCK did I make it TOO weird
(if it was gonna be weird he wouldn’t be constantly telling you your hair is so great and touching it in a way that makes you shiver and want something you’re not ever gonna give shape to even inside your own head)
(like running his fingers through and taking hold at the nape of your neck and threatening idly to pull it for real not for jokes, and you do wonder just once before you can catch yourself, what would it be like if he followed up with a kiss or, like, setting his teeth in the side of your throat and biting down just a little)
usually it’s recoverable if you don’t admit to or talk about your feelings, it’ll pass when you’re not spending 16 hours a day in each other’s company but he’ll hug you years later at the golden globes and he’ll still smell so good and you WILL feel Something that sort of hurts but in a mostly good way
maybe years later you’ll have worked through it and gotten a secure-attachment real life boyfriend and you’ll idly refer to that big crush you had and it won’t feel like you’re choking on acid it’ll just be Haha Wow Remember That One Time When
4) the casual work friends-with-bennies
you’re both cool! you both like to kiss on the mouth and also suck a dick occasionally! you’re never gonna come out about it because it’s hollywood but it makes a film shoot a lot more fun when you can blow off some steam in your trailer
you can drop it at the end of filming and pick it back up when you get signed for a Disney plus show together and it’s fine, it’s chill, it’s a truly optimal outcome
5) the casual work friends-with-bennies but one of you caught feelings
oh bud. we’re in mess territory and you’re gonna get burned by it but you already know that and the best you can hope for is that once you’re not fucking the feelings will fade
in all honesty it’ll still burn you less than scenario 3 because an intense friendship like that takes you so much deeper into casual intimacy but on the other hand you DO know what his dick feels like halfway down your throat and let’s be real, the smart thing to do would be call it off but the sex is too good so you’re just waiting it out for the crash
and the crash is bad, obviously, you finish the press tour and go home and if you push down you can still feel the last bruise-bite but you’re back to texting once a month and hearing about each other through social media instead of in person
you’ll do it again though because you are a sucker for punishment and it’ll be just as good slash just as bad
6) the intense situational work friendship turned friends-with-bennies
[ralph wiggum voice] haha you’re in danger
and I want to tell you that you’re BOTH in danger but let’s be real, one of you is way more likely to get real feelings about it and once that happens it’s all over for you because while he’s going, yeah this is cool I like to suck a dick occasionally and I also like my good buddy so what a good combination, you’re drawing love hearts in the margins of your script and thinking about a romantic holiday to Romania
you will end filming and he will go “good game man let’s catch up next time we’re in the same city” and you will feel something catch in your heart
all I can say is that at least you entered into the fucking part of this on the basis of true friendship and the feelings didn’t arrive until after you were already fucking. it’s still not great. It’s bad. But at least there’s that.
7) intense situational work-crush (one-sided) turned friends-with-bennies
we are in the game over zone. you are not in danger you are surrounded on all sides by forest fire and there’s no way out. you have signed up for a prolonged broken heart and [radiohead voice] you did it to yourself
either you pretend forever that you did not have a crush before you started fucking and you don’t have a crush now, and you silently suffer through losing the brief joy of getting to kiss when filming ends (bad) or you admit to your feelings and your friend tells you with grace and sympathy that he does not feel the same way (worse) or you hide your feelings so poorly that you act like a total asshole and when you do eventually admit to it the entire edifice of friendship is torn down by the force of your repressed emotion (worst).
appendix: what if they both had feelings?
no I’m sorry I simply don’t think this is realistic I think AT MOST it was a love affair where one person liked the other quite a lot but the other was in it Too Deep and that was unsustainable long-term.
anyway, my only other contribution is that apparently sebstan’s current girlfriend previously dated chris pine. for four years. isn’t that interesting? chris pine, now that’s a man with some perplexingly undefinable energy. some would say, that man is a lesbian. just interesting to me that an aspiring model slash actress would date an extremely lesbian man for four years and then two months after breaking up would get together with ol sebastian, a man who was apparently spotted celebrating his 40th with said girlfriend and a passel of other pals including his long-time buddy chace crawford.
which could mean nothing, obviously. but it’s interesting. that’s all.
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#sky children of the light#sky cotl#thatskygame#season of revival#aviary#couldn’t think of a clever caption so just#drink it in#this area as it is right now#with the soft and empty music and the thick fog and the coldness and loneliness#takes me back to this time six years ago#when I was at my lowest and I’m talking so low that I dissociated SEVERELY#the emptiness felt exactly like this all the way down to the weight on my chest#but just like back then I know now that it won’t be like this forever#not while I have people I can rely on and work together with#and here I sit today knowing EXACTLY how this story will end#so me from 6 years ago? this one’s for you. you made it. you’re the strongest and most content and most outgoing you’ve ever been#glad ya made it pal
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yesterday my parents brought home a new dog without telling me first, knowing that i’m not ready for another dog yet after the death of my last one 🙃
#i know i won’t live here forever but unfortunately im here now and its just drudging up grief seeing a different dog in the house#a week or two ago they went to look at dogs without telling me and i told them i was upset about that#because they knew i didn’t want a dog yet#and they were like ‘sorry we thought you meant you didn’t want one at all so there was no point in telling you (??)’#‘we’ll have to talk about it’#there was no talking 🙃#i would’ve considered it even tho i didn’t feel ready if i was at least talked to first! and got to meet him at the shelter#instead of in my home!#literally two nights before they went to the shelter the first time i had a nightmare they brought a dog home without telling me#and then the night before they actually did i had that nightmare again#and thought ‘that’s a ridiculous dream obviously they wouldn’t do that without talking to me’#lol.#they said i ‘move too slow’#sorry i’ll grieve faster next time i guess!#i wouldn’t have done that to them if roles were reversed…#he’s technically here on a three night test period first but let’s be real they’re not gonna send him back to the shelter#and i’d be the villain if i suggested it#i don’t have the heart to send a dog back to the shelter but i feel like i was manipulated into this
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