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earthchica · 17 hours ago

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Everything I Ever Wanted

terry richmond x black, fem!/plus size reader

summary: It's been a month since you and Terry welcomed your son, Elijah; both of you have been adapting to parenthood pretty amazingly. However, five months in, tensions arise as you feel overwhelmed by handling most household responsibilities and caring for your son. This imbalance leads to a big argument between you and Terry.

warnings: explicit smut (18+), oral (m), loving making, birthday sex, rough sex, praise kink, choking kink, fluff, domestic life, time skip, angst, mention of postpartum depression, slight communications issues, foul language, argument, nicknames [ baby, sweetheart, mama, pretty girl & more ] words: 7k

note: I don't know...I really love writing these two, so we're continuing their story. please enjoy and there may be some errors.

sequel mini series to { funny how time flies } mini-series masterlist

It's been a few weeks since you two brought your precious son, Elijah, home, and the transition has been exciting and challenging, but you and Terry have worked seamlessly as a team, diligently tackling every sleepless night and diaper change.

Besides that, Elijah is an easy baby, though he tends to wake up frequently during the night, yet somehow manages to sleep through much of the morning and into the afternoon. This odd schedule has led you and Terry to refine it soon.

Today had unfolded beautifully, with the late afternoon sun streaming through the living room windows, bathing the space in a soft, golden light. The warmth of the sun felt comforting, creating an inviting atmosphere.

Your parents had come over for a visit, eager to spend time with Elijah again. Laughter and joyful chatter filled the air as they engaged with him, delighting in his coos and how his eyes sparkled with curiosity.

“Look at you, Eli, such a cutie pie! Yes, you are!” Your mom coos lovingly at her grandson, her voice filled with warmth. Beside her, your dad beams with pride, a gentle smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"I can't help but agree with you, honey. He's absolutely precious," your dad remarked with a warm smile, his eyes twinkling with affection. You glanced over at Terry, and in that moment, you exchanged knowing smiles, both delighting.

“You both did such a wonderful job! You made such a beautiful, healthy baby boy, our first grandson," your mom adds, her eyes shimmering with tears of happiness.

“Oh, don’t cry, Mama,” you said gently, moving to rub her shoulder reassuringly. She wipes away a tear and nods, her smile returning, a reflection of the love that fills the room.

“I just can’t believe how fast time flies,” she continues, her voice tinged with nostalgia. “One minute I was holding you as a baby, and now I’m here holding your little one. It feels surreal.”

Terry smiles, wrapping an arm around you. “We’re just so thankful he’s here, and we couldn’t have done it without both of you. Your support means the world to us.”

Your mom beams and then adds, “You know if you two ever need a break or some extra hands, your dad and I are here for you. We can help with babysitting, cooking—whatever you might need! I’d love to take care of my grandson.”

You look at Terry and see the relief in his eyes. “That’s really generous of you, Mama. We would appreciate that a lot. It’s been overwhelming, but we’re figuring it out.”

“Of course! Don’t hesitate to ask, honey,” Your mom says, her enthusiasm unwavering. “I know how challenging those first few months can be. I remember when we had you; the sleepless nights were brutal. But it was all worth it, seeing you grow.”

“We’d love to have you two over whenever you can; the door is always open,” Terry said with a light smile. “We could use a little break now and then,” He added.

"Yeah, you don't forget to find a good balance. Make sure to carve out some quality time together, maybe plan regular date nights every so often to keep that connection strong between you two," your dad suggested, offering his wisdom.

Terry turned to you, a contemplative expression on his face. “That’s true,” he acknowledged. “Yeah, but I'm still a bit scared about leaving him. We’re also just figuring this all out as we go along.” You sighed, the weight of uncertainty settling on your shoulders.

Your mom, ever the pillar of support, gently patted your hand, her touch warm and reassuring. “That’s completely natural, honey! You’re navigating a lot right now but doing wonderfully already. Trust your instincts and know your limits; always listen to what feels right for you.”

Her eyes sparkled with comfort and encouragement. “Remember, we’re just a phone call away if you need us. We want to be involved and support you as best as possible.”

“Thanks, Mama. That really means a lot to me,” you replied, feeling gratitude and comfort wash over you. At that moment, wrapped in this bubble of love and support from your family, you couldn’t help but feel reassured

After their visit, you and Terry finally settled down for dinner. You had already fed Elijah before the family arrived, and while he dozed peacefully in his tiny bassinet by you, both of you enjoyed a quiet meal.

You cut into your chicken, glancing over at Terry, who adores Elijah sleeping. “yo, I still can’t believe how well Eli took to his new sleep routine,” Terry said, taking a sip of his drink.

“Like...remember those first few nights? We were both so damn exhausted!” He added, making a silly expression.

You chuckled. “Yeah, it felt like we had entered a marathon. But now, we’re finally getting the hang of it. It’s great seeing him so peaceful.” You nodded toward the bassinet, where Elijah stirred slightly but remained asleep.

Terry smiled. “He really is an easy baby. I heard some parents struggle for months. We really lucked out.” He paused, and his expression turned serious.

"I was talking to my mom earlier, and she mentioned how she felt depressed after I was born; she didn't think she would get out of it if it wasn't for my dad and proper therapy. It made me wonder if you are feeling like too?” He asked, looking at me curious.

You set down your fork, the question hanging in the air, and you took a deep breath, feeling guilt wash over you. You hadn't intended to hide your feelings from Terry, but the whirlwind of emotions that came with new parenthood had left you feeling unmoored.

“I… I did feel a bit overwhelmed in those first few weeks,” you admitted, avoiding his gaze momentarily. “There were nights when I hid in the bathroom downstairs, just couldn’t stop crying, you know? It was like all the stress and exhaustion piled on top of the joy of having our baby.”

Terry’s brow furrowed with concern, but he nodded. “I wish you would’ve told me, baby. I wouldn’t have been upset; I just want to be here for you, especially now that we’re married and we have a family. We’re a team.”

The warmth in his voice made your heart swell. “I know, Terry. I didn’t want to add to your worries, especially with everything else happening. I thought I could manage it alone, and it felt… silly to feel that way when we have this beautiful son.”

Terry reached across the table, taking your hand gently. “It’s not silly at all, baby. It’s a huge transition; you don’t have to pretend everything’s always okay. I’m your husband, and I want us to share the good moments and the tough ones, too.”

You squeezed his hand, feeling a bit of the weight lift. “You’re right. I should be more open; I'm still learning that, but I’m relieved to say I’m not feeling that way anymore. It’s getting easier every day. I think I was shocked at first and scared… but I want you to know that I’m okay now.”

“Good,” Terry said, his expression softening. “But please promise me that you'll talk to me if you start feeling like that again or any kind of way. We gotta be completely honest with each other. We can face anything as long as we’re open about it.”

You nodded, appreciating the sincerity in his eyes. “I promise. It’s just… this new journey we’re in, it’s like it’s made up of all these conflicting emotions. I love being a wife and mother, but it’s also a lot of pressure.”

Terry smiled gently. “It is. And we’re figuring it out together. Just remember, you’re not alone in this. If you ever need to vent or cry or just take a break, I’m here, baby, and I love you. We’ll make it through all of it, hand in hand.”

Feeling reassured, "I love you, too, Terry, so much." A soft smile crossed your face, and you couldn’t help but feel grateful for the depth of your strong connection.

Once dinner concluded, and after indulging in a few light-hearted movies, you noticed that Elijah was still curled up, sound asleep. Deciding it was time for him to be tucked in, Terry gently picked him up to carry him to the nursery.

The soft coos and gentle sounds from the baby monitor filled the air, and a warmth spread through your heart as you listened to Terry's soothing voice.

“Goodnight, little man; Daddy loves you so much,” Terry whispered tenderly, gently kissing Elijah's forehead before quietly retreating from the nursery, leaving the door slightly ajar.

With a soft smile still lingering on your face, you walked to the bathroom to complete your nightly routine. You brushed your teeth, washed your face, and carefully wrapped your hair in a bonnet, feeling the day's exhaustion wash over you.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you found Terry already settled in bed, waiting for you. You crawled under the covers and snuggled into his chest, feeling safe and content as he leaned over to turn off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into comforting darkness.

As the gentle glow of the bedside lamp casts a warm light in the room, Terry leans closer, brushing a soft kiss against your cheek. With a tender whisper, he softly says, "Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you,"

His voice is warm and soothing, wrapping around you like a cozy blanket. You turn to him, a smile spreading across your face, and reply, "Goodnight, baby. I love you too!"

three months later.

As the soft light of dawn began to spill into the room, you stirred awake, feeling the cool sheets beside you and realizing Terry was already up.

The familiar hum of bike tires on pavement whispered through the open window, reminding you of his early morning routine. A smile crept across your face as you realized today felt extra special

— it was Terry's birthday.

You stretched and yawned, the warmth of anticipation bubbling up within you. With a silent promise to keep the surprises under wraps, you slipped out of bed and quietly padded downstairs to the living room.

The air was fresh and crisp, and you began carefully arranging the decorations you had picked out over the past few days. Balloons of black and green adorned the walls, while a “Happy Birthday Terry” banner hung cheerfully above the couch.

Nearby, you carefully placed the birthday gifts, ensuring each was perfectly wrapped and waiting for his eager eyes. Once the decorations were set, you decided to get Elijah from his crib.

You breathed before going upstairs and down the hallway, your heart swelling with excitement. Opening the nursery door gently, you peeked in to find him peacefully sleeping, his tiny chest rising and falling with each breath.

You couldn’t resist leaning over to press a soft kiss on his forehead, eliciting a small sigh from him as he stirred. “Good morning, my beautiful boy,” you whispered gently.

You lifted him from his crib. Elijah blinked sleepily at you, his eyes wide and bright, sparkling with joy at the sight of you. “Look who’s awake!” you said with a cheer, cradling him against your chest as he stretched his little arms and let out a delighted coo.

“Did you know it’s Daddy’s birthday today?” you beamed at him, your heart melting at his baby gurgles. “We have some fun surprises planned, little man!”

Elijah’s face broke into an adorable smile, his eyes dancing with delight as you continued talking to him, explaining everything you had planned for his father's special day.

As you carried him back into the living room, he kicked his legs, clearly excited about the decorations, reaching out to touch the balloons as they floated gently on the ceiling.

Once settled on the couch, you nestled Elijah against you, pointing out the colors. “Look, Eli! Black and green!” He babbled back as if he understood and wanted to join the conversation, his eyes reflecting pure happiness.

The sound of the front door opening caught your attention, and you glanced up to see Terry walk in. His body was slightly shaking from the morning cold, and a bright smile lit up his face as he quickly glanced at you.

“Hey there, Birthday King!” you cheered, lifting Elijah slightly to catch his father’s attention. His eyes widened in disbelief as he absorbed the decorations fluttering in the morning light.

Terry’s eyes traveled from you to Elijah, and his smile widened even more.

“Yo, you did all this for me?” Terry exclaimed, a laugh escaping him as surprise painted his features. "Yeah, of course, happy birthday, baby. I wanted to make today special for you. You deserve it all and more.

“Also, someone who wants to say ‘Happy Birthday’!” You leaned down, holding Elijah out toward him, and the sight of Terry's boyish grin melting into a look of pure love made your heart swell.

“Happy Birthday, Daddy! I love you so much!” you said in a baby voice. Terry laughed and gently took Elijah in his arms, peppering him with kisses as the baby squealed in response, his tiny hands reaching for his father’s face.

“This is amazing! Thank you, sweetheart!” He said, leaning down to give you a soft kiss, the warmth of his lips lingering just a moment longer, filling you with warmth.

“Glad you like it,” you replied shyly, “I wanted to surprise you right after your bicycle ride.”

“Nah, I love it, and I appreciate it; I appreciate you,” Terry chuckled, looking back at the decorations with pure gratitude. You felt a surge of happiness that today was all about him.

“Haha, good...Now Terry, let’s have breakfast!” you started with a giggle. “How does breakfast burrito sound?” You asked, guiding him to the kitchen and putting Elijah in his cute little high chair.

“Mmm...breakfast burrito sounds good!” Terry replied enthusiastically. “if I'm being honest, I could eat a mountain of them right now.”

“I’ll whip them up, and you can handle Elijah’s breakfast,” you suggested, glancing down at him. Elijah watched, his big hazel eyes touching the joyful atmosphere, cooing softly.

“Sounds like a plan, sweetheart!” Terry said, turning towards the bottle warmer and preparing Elijah’s bottle. He expertly filled it, the familiar routine filling the air with comfort.

“You know, I’m grateful,” he said, glancing back at you with a soft sparkle in his eyes. “Not just because of my wonderful birthday surprise, but because I wake up every day to my beautiful family.”

Your heart swelled at his words, a fluttering warmth spreading as you started making the ingredients for the breakfast burritos. “Well, we’re grateful to have you, too,” you replied, smiling at him.

“You’re the best dad and husband anyone could ask for, T,” You said, reaching over to kiss his cheek, and he shyly smiled. “I do my best,” he said with a light chuckle, holding the bottle to Elijah’s mouth.

The baby eagerly latched on, and as you watched the two of them, your heart felt full. With the smell of bacon and eggs beginning to waft through the kitchen.

You flipped the first burritos, the golden brown surface looking just right. Elijah finished his bottle, and Terry gently patted his back. A small burp echoed, causing both you and Terry to laugh.

“That's my little man,” Terry said, kissing Elijah’s forehead again. The burritos were done with excitement and love. Terry placed a smiling Elijah back in his high chair, positioning the bib around him.

"Was it good, Eli?” you asked, smoothing his curly hair as the three of you gathered around the table. Terry grabbed burritos and turned back to you.

“Thank you for this. This morning is already one of my favorites.” He said, and you smiled, your heart swelling once more. “You're welcome, baby.”

"Was it good, Eli?" you asked, smoothing his curly hair as the three of you gathered around the table. Terry grabbed burritos and turned back to you.

"Thank you for this. This morning is already one of my favorites, " he said, and you smiled, your heart swelling again. "You're welcome, baby."

After breakfast, Terry cleared the table, and you picked up Elijah since he wanted to be held by you. Once he finished the dishes, you three moved into the living room.

"So what do you want to do for your birthday, today?" You asked softly, and he turned to you with a light smile on his face as he gave it a thought.

“You know, I was hoping we could sneak away for a bit—maybe see that movie we’ve been discussing? Just the two of us.” Terry answered with a nod.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued but also a bit hesitant. “But what about Elijah? He’s still so little…” You said with a sigh, and Terry still smiled warmly, leaning in closer.

“That’s why I thought we could call your parents and see if they could take him for a few hours. I know they love spending time with him, and it would give us some much-needed alone time.”

You considered it momentarily, biting your lip as you glanced at Elijah, who was now giggling at the little plush toys hanging from his play gym

“You know what? Let's do it, shit, it's your birthday. They'll actually be thrilled to have a little time with him,” you said with a nod, trying to shake off any lingering doubts.

“Let's go!!!! I’ll call them right now,” Terry said, his excitement contagious. You watched as he grabbed his phone, a wide grin spreading across his face.

Terry stepped a bit away to talk, leaving you to play with Elijah, who was happy cooing and made it hard not to smile. A few minutes later, Terry returned, his expression lit up.

“They’re on their way! Said they can’t wait to see him,” he said, and the both of you chuckled at how eager your parents were to dote on their grandson.

When your parents arrived, they walked in with greetings of warm hugs and kisses on the cheek and happy birthdays to Terry, instantly melting your heart as they fussed over Elijah.

“Look at our big boy!” your mom said, tickling him lightly, which sent him into fits of giggles. You grab all the stuff that you think they would need.

Before they left, they turned to you, sensing a little of your worry. “You know we’ve got this,” your dad said reassuringly, giving you a comforting squeeze on the shoulder.

“Don’t stress. You two deserve some time together; enjoy your birthday, Terry. Elijah will be just fine with us.” He added more, and your mom chimed in as well.

“And we promise to take lots of pictures! You’ll see; everything is going to be just great,” She said with a smile, and you couldn’t help but feel a wave of gratitude wash over you.

“Thank you, Mama and Dad. It means a lot to us that you’re willing to take him,” you said, your voice sincere as Terry stood beside you, wrapping an arm around your plump waist.

After they left, you and Terry got ready and were on your way out for his birthday. The car ride to the movie theater felt like a burst of fresh air, filled with light-hearted banter between you and Terry.

“What do you think? You think this movie is gonna be any good?” Terry asked, pulled smoothly into the parking lot. You could hardly contain your enthusiasm.

“Definitely! I’ve heard some really good things about it,” you replied, a joyful flutter in your chest. You and Terry got out of the car and eagerly made your way toward the grand entrance of the theater.

The excitement in the air was palpable as you purchased two tickets, Next, you approached the concession stand, the mouthwatering aroma of freshly popped popcorn enveloping you two.

You and Terry grabbed a large bag of fluffy popcorn, skittles, M&M's, and two icy drinks, each clinking lightly as you and Terry juggled them toward the screening room.

As you stepped into the dimly lit theater, the soft glow of the screen illuminated the space, and you could hear the low hum of chatter mixed with the sound of previews playing in the background.

You chose a comfortable seat, sinking into the plush cushioning beside him. You couldn't help but feel giddy with anticipation for the movie to start.

The movie was a hilarious romantic comedy. During the funny moments, you found yourselves laughing, giggling, and playful nudges, Terry; you enjoyed this time you both had togather.

“That was so good!” Terry exclaimed, turning to you with a sparkling grin, and you nodded. You nodded in agreement, still buzzing from the excitement of the film.

As you stepped out of the theater into the cool evening air, you pulled out your phone and noticed several messages from your mom, each accompanied by adorable pictures of Elijah.

Eagerly, you swiped through the images, each capturing the little moments of his day—his cherubic smile, tiny fingers curled around a toy, and that sweet, peaceful expression he wore while napping.

You turned the screen towards Terry, who leaned in to get a better look. he smiled and gazed at the photos. “See, there’s nothing to worry about!” he said, a look of relief washing over him.

“Yeah!....So where to next, my king?” you asked, flashing a playful smile that lit up your face. The afternoon sun cast a warm glow around you, and the excitement in the air was palpable.

“How about Dave & Buster's?” Terry suggested, his voice bubbling with enthusiasm. His eyes sparkled, making you wonder if he could no longer contain his excitement.

“I can’t wait to beat your high score in air hockey,” he declared confidently, a mischievous glint in his eye. You gasped in mock disbelief, tilting your head as if contemplating his challenge seriously.

“Oh, nah, baby! Good luck with that, haha! You do realize I’m the reigning champion, right?” you teased, laughter bubbling up as you struck a pose, pretending to bask in your glory.

“We’ll see about that,” Terry replied, a smirk playing on his lips, his competitive spirit ignited. It was clear that the rivalry was only beginning, and you couldn’t wait to see how it unfolded.

Once at Dave & Buster's, the atmosphere buzzed with energy. The two of you dived into the arcade, trying your hands at different games. The sound of laughter and the clinking of tokens filled the air as you challenged each other to various contests.

You spent more time than you’d like to admit racing against each other in virtual go-karts and trying to win substantial stuffed animals from claw machines.

You even shared a few sweet moments, like when Terry won a miniature robot and presented it to you with an exaggerated bow.

“For my beautiful queen, from the finest arcade in town,” he declared dramatically, and you giggled, kissing his cheek.

As a final showdown, you headed to the air hockey table. The chatter around faded as you focused on each hit, your competitiveness fueling both your laughter and playful banter.

“Prepare to be dethroned!” Terry joked, his eyes gleaming with determination, but you managed to outscore him again. As the game ended, you jumped up victoriously, doing a little dance.

“Once again, I’m the queen of air hockey!” you teased, doing the running man dance, and he playfully pretended to sulk. “Alright, alright, you win this time,” he laughed, pulling you into an embrace.

“But next time, I’m definitely coming for that crown!” Terry said, wrapping his arms around your shoulder.

After enjoying some food and a few more games, you both left with big smiles and full hearts, reminiscing about all the fun you had that day.

The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in beautiful hues of pink and orange as you made your way back home, still buzzing with joy.

When you arrived home, you gently opened the door, revealing your cozy living room. “You know, I think this might have been the best birthday I’ve ever had,” Terry said, wrapping an arm around your plump waist as you walked inside.

“Wait, there’s one more surprise,” you said, biting your lip to hide your excitement. You glanced at him and motioned towards the bedroom.

“I love surprises!” Terry said, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Why don’t you wait on the bed? I'll be in the bathroom?” You said both of you walked into your shared bedroom.

Terry sat on the bed and grinned widely, and you slipped into the bathroom to change into something special. You retrieved the white lace lingerie you had tucked away.

You had bought it a year ago, never expecting you’d wear it until today. As you put it on, the fabric felt soft against your dark-brown skin.

You smiled at your reflection, feeling a mix of horny and excitement. After a moment, you took a deep breath and left the bathroom. The dim light casting a gentle glow revealed yourself to Terry.

The look on his face was priceless—his jaw dropped slightly, and his eyes widened in pure delight. “Fuck,” he breathed, and he had a smirk spreading.

“You look absolutely sexy, baby. Is this all for me?” You felt a rush of warmth at his words, stepping forward to close the distance between you.

“Yes! Happy Birthday, King,” you said softly, bursting with love. “I think I’ve just found the best part of my birthday,” he murmured, his arm wrapping around your waist as he leaned in for a kiss, tongue dancing togather as his hand gripped your round of ass.

You moaned, pulled away from the kiss, and gave Terry a sly grin, pushing him back onto the bed. Feeling excited, you walk over to your phone and put some seductive Bluetooth music on.

You swayed your hips to the beat, making your way over to him and straddling his lap. Terry let out a low groan as you ran your hands down his chest, teasingly tracing the outline of his muscles.

You leaned close to his ear, your breath hot against his skin as you whispered, "Enjoying your birthday so far, big daddy?" before gently biting his earlobe.

“More than I could have ever imagined, baby,” Terry groaned, grasping your breasts. You continued to move sensually against him, feeling yourself getting more turned on by his reactions.

You couldn't help but smile at how much he was enjoying this. Slowly, you began to grind against him, feeling the heat between your bodies grow with each movement.

Terry's hands found their way down to your hips, guiding your movements as he let out a string of curses under his breath. ”Fuck, baby girl, I need you,”

You feel the bulge in his pants growing harder by the second and decide it is time for a change of pace and stand up, swaying your hips seductively as you slowly strip off the lingerie piece by piece.

Terry's eyes roamed hungrily over your plump, curvy body, desire evident in every line of his face. When you were entirely naked, you climbed back onto his lap, feeling the electricity between you both intensify with each touch.

“How do you want me, Terry? You know I love pleasing you; it is my favorite thing.” You said softly, and a primal growl escaped Terry's lips as he fixated his dark, lust-filled eyes on you.

His body trembles with desire at your question, and he pushes you down to your knees in front of him. "I need that pretty mouth of yours wrapped around me, baby," he demands, his hands caressing himself through his pants.

You bite your lip, feeling the wetness between your legs intensify as you quickly unbutton his pants and pull them down along with his boxers.

With a sly smile, you leaned forward and took his throbbing dick in your hands, and began stroking him, lathering him up by licking your hand.

You took him in your mouth, feeling his hand thread through your curly hair as he let out a deep moan. You moved your head up and down, taking him deeper with each stroke.

You love using your tongue to tease and please him. “Mmm…I always love the way you taste, Terry,” You said, taking him out of your mouth for a second.

Terry's eyes rolled back in pleasure as you continued to work your magic on him. His grip on your curly hair tightened, guiding you deeper and faster.

You pulled away with a gasp, saliva dripping from your mouth, and asked, “Mmm, talk to me Daddy how does it feel?” hitting his dick on your face before sucking at his balls

Terry's breaths were coming out in heavy pants as he looked down at you, his eyes dark with lust. "It feels fucking amazing, baby," he groaned, his hips moving involuntarily as you took him back into your mouth.

You moaned in response, the vibrations sending shivers down Terry's spine. Your hands continued to stroke and tease him, making him ache for more.

Terry couldn't resist any longer and tightened his grip on your hair, pushing himself deeper into your mouth. "Oh fuck, yes," he grunted, his hips thrusting faster now.

You could feel him getting closer, and you knew just how to push him over the edge. You used your tongue to trace patterns on his dick while sucking harder, causing Terry to cry out in pleasure.

"Damn it, sweetheart" he exclaimed as he spilled into your mouth. His body shook with release, and you swallowed every drop of his cum before sitting up and licking your lips.

"Mmm, your cum tastes so sweet," you said with a sly smile. Terry pulled you up onto the bed and flipped you onto your back, his eyes burning with desire as he hovered over you.

"I need to be inside of you right now,” Terry growled before capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. He wasted no time in entering you, causing you both to moan, and you wrapped your thick legs around his waist.

Terry's thrusts were slow and deep, hitting all the right spots inside of you. Each one sent waves of pleasure through your body, making you moan louder and arch your back in ecstasy.

"Fuck, you feel so good. Does it feel good, baby?" Terry groaned, rising up as his hands gripped your wide hips tightly. He couldn't get enough of you; how you felt around him was like nothing else.

“Ah, yes, yes, fuck” You moaned, placing your hands around his wrist as he continued to thrust inside of you but still slowly. The room was alive with the sound of flesh softly smacking together, accompanied by your moans and his deep grunts.

"Oh, Terry, I love you to death, and I'm so grateful for everything you do. You're such an amazing man," you gasped out between breaths as he showed you exactly how much he loved you in return.

This man was more than just a husband, he was your everything, and nothing could change that. “Shit, baby, if you keep talkin' to me like that, I might nut another baby in but I'll save that for another time,”

Terry's muscles rippled as his eyes locked on yours with intense desire. The room around you was a blur as you focused on him, seeing the pleasure on his face.

“Pleeease, speed it up, Daddy fuck me harder.” you moaned out as Terry's hands tightened around your plump waist. “Mm, my nasty girl wants it harder?”

He asked, looking down at you with a smirk before picking up the pace, his thrusts becoming almost animalistic as he hit all the right spots inside of you.

“Yess, just like that, fuck…fuck me.” you cried, your body trembling from the intense pleasure of the pace. Your fingers gripping onto Terry's broad shoulders as he thrusts harder inside of you.

His hands tightly gripped your hips, leaving marks in their wake. The plush bed sheets envelop you in a cocoon of comfort, the heat emanating from Terry's body seeping into your own.

Looking up at Terry again, his intense gaze penetrates through you like a laser beam, igniting a fire within your core. You flip him onto his back, and his dick slides back into your wet, throbbing pussy.

His face contorted with pleasure, and his hands gripped your waist tightly. You bounce on him, your movements wild and uninhibited, your bodies melded in a passionate rhythm.

"Shit, I love you" You cried, can't help but admire the handsome man beneath you, his features twisted with ecstasy as his strong hands caress your breasts, thumbs circling your hardened nipples.

Arching your back, you grind your hips down harder, taking him even deeper inside you. The delicious friction sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"You like that, Daddy?" you purr, clenching around him. Your body is slick with desire, and you can feel your pussy pulsing for him. "You like how wet I am for you?"

Your voice dripping with need and longing. Each movement sends shivers of pleasure through your body, and you're unable to resist the urge to press closer against him, wanting to feel every inch of his skin against yours.

“Shit, shit, yes, yes,“ Terry grunts in response, gripping your hips and thrusting up to meet your movements. The new angle hits just the right spot, making you cry as you feel him wrap his hands around your neck.

“Bounce on that fucking dick, baby, bounce on that shit” Terry moans, his face contorted with pleasure and adores before his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth open in a moan.

His chest rises and falls quickly as his body moves to meet yours. As you continue to ride him, you can feel your orgasm building, and you know that Terry is close, too.

The way his grip tightens on your neck, and his thrusts become more erratic tells you that he's reaching his peak. You lean forward, placing a hand on his chest for balance as you increase the tempo, feeling him filling you up completely with each thrust.

"You gonna cum for me, Daddy?" You moan into his ear, nipping at the lobe as your movements become more desperate. "You gonna fill me up with your hot cum, huh?"

Terry's response is a primal growl as he flips the two of you over, taking control once again. He pins your hands above your head, pounding into you with a ferocity that has you seeing stars.

Each thrust brings you closer to the edge, and just when you think you can't take it anymore, Terry's lips crash onto yours in a passionate kiss.

Your body explodes in pleasure as Terry's release hits him, too, both of you crying out each other's names in ecstasy. Your bodies are slick with sweat as he collapses on top of you.

Both of you breathing heavily and riding out the waves of pleasure. "God damn," Terry says between pants, pecking kisses all over your face before pulling out and snuggling into bed beside you.

You turn to face him, smiling contentedly as you can see the sweat glistening on both of your bodies and the satisfied smile on his face. His eyes are filled with adoration as he gazes at you.

As you lay in each other's arms, basking in the afterglow of your intense lovemaking, Terry brushes a strand of curls hair away from your face.

"I can't believe how blessed I am to have you; thank you. This was an amazing birthday, baby" Terry says, his voice filled with love and sincerity as he gazes into your eyes.

You smile softly, feeling your heart flutter at his words. "I’m glad you enjoy yourself, Terry; I love you," you reply, tracing circles on his chest with your finger.

"I love you too" Terry leans down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss, his hand cupping your cheek tenderly. The kiss is slow and deep, conveying all the emotions that words can't express.

You wrap your arms around him, feeling the warmth of his body as you pull him closer, surrendering entirely to the moment. The world around you fades into the background, leaving just the two of you.

Suddenly, the peace is interrupted by your phone ringing, jolting you back to reality. It’s a call from your parents, who are on their way home with Elijah.

The moment's warmth slips away as you both realize how quickly time has passed while you are wrapped up in each other. After the call, you and Terry decide to refresh yourselves.

You step into the shower together, steam rising as water cascades over your bodies, the lingering temptation of another round swirling in the air, but you got washed.

Once you’re both dressed, there is a sharp knock on the front door. The sound echoes through the space, signaling the return of your parents and Elijah.

You went to go, and open the door to find them standing there, smiling warmly, with your dad holding Elijah's colorful diaper bag in one hand.

Excited chatter fills the air as they express their eagerness to babysit again. You can’t help but smile at the joyous moments ahead as you take the baby bag from your dad, feeling grateful for them.

Terry sat comfortably in the cozy living room, a soft smile on his face as he held Elijah in his arms, gently cooing at your son and making him gurgle with delight.

As you carefully lit the candles on the birthday cake, the delicious scent of vanilla wafted through the air, blending with the excitement of the celebration.

You took a moment to glance at Terry and Elijah, savoring the heartwarming scene before returning your attention to the flickering flames atop the cake, ready to sing "Happy Birthday" to your husband.

You entered the living room, the familiar tune bubbling up from within as you began to sing. Terry's smile widened at the sound of your voice, a beautiful melody that filled the air with joy.

Fascinated by the flickering candles, Elijah stared in awe, his little face brightening. As you concluded the song, your voice melded effortlessly with the warmth radiating from the room.

"Make a wish, handsome," You said with a smile, and Terry laughed softly, the sound rich with love and appreciation.

Terry closed his eyes for a moment to make a wish, and with a deep breath, he blew out the candles, sending a gentle plume of smoke swirling into the air.

'Yeah!!! Happy Birthday, Terry" You cheered happily, joy radiating from you as you watched the sparkle in his eyes, reflecting his contentment and love on this special day.

three months later,

making it six months since you gave birth.

As the months rolled by, it was in the middle of summer now, and you found yourself deeply immersed in the new routine of motherhood. Elijah was now six months old, and his personality began to blossom.

Each day brought challenges and joys, but lately, you felt the weight of the day-to-day responsibilities resting heavily on your shoulders. It had been particularly tough since Terry returned to work not too long ago.

The warmth seeped into your skin as the sun shone brightly in the sky, refreshing your spirit. You packed a picnic basket with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, some sliced apples, and a few cookies for a treat.

A soft blanket tucked under your arm, you walked to the park with Elijah nestled comfortably in his stroller, his tiny hands reaching up to the blue sky.

Once you arrived, you could hear the joyful sounds of children playing and laughter echoing around you. Finding a quiet spot under a large oak tree, you spread out the blanket and settled Elijah beside you.

His hazel eyes sparkled with curiosity as the gentle breeze rustled the leaves above. “Look at that, Elijah,” you smiled, pointing at a group of kids playing.

“Isn’t that amazing? One day, you’ll be over there with them.” You said, and Elijah cooed, kicking his little feet in excitement. You leaned down and tickled him, drawing forth a chorus of giggles.

“Would you like some yummy lunch?” you asked, reaching for a sandwich. As you offered him a few pieces of the soft bread, he leaned forward, trying to grab it with his tiny fingers.

His attempt was met with clumsiness and delight, the crumbs scattering on the blanket. A few moments passed of quiet enjoyment as you both munched on lunch.

You watched Elijah’s attention shift from the kites to the vibrant flowers blooming nearby. “Do you like the flowers, little man?” you asked softly with a giggle, noticing his wide-eyed wonder.

“They remind me of you—bright and full of life.” You said, kissing his forehead, and after the picnic, you lay back on the blanket, watching the clouds drift by.

Elijah babbled contentedly beside you, mimicking the sounds of nature. “You know, sometimes being a mom feels overwhelming, but moments like this make it all worth it,” you murmured softly.

Suddenly, you heard a familiar voice, “There you are!” It was Terry, looking a bit winded but incredibly happy to see you both. “I managed to leave work a little early. I wanted to surprise you guys!”

Elijah’s face lit up at the sight of his dad, and he wiggled with excitement. Terry knelt down, scooping up Elijah into his arms. “Hey, baby boy! How was your day?”

“It just got a lot better,” you replied, grinning. As the three of you settled back on the blanket, you felt the burdens of motherhood lift slightly.

After your delightful picnic, filled with laughter and sunshine, you all eventually returned home, savoring the remnants of the joy spent outdoors.

Soon you set about preparing dinner. You moved gracefully around the kitchen, chopping vegetables and stirring sauces while Terry kept a watchful eye on Elijah, who was happily playing with blocks on the living room floor.

As the two of you sat down to dinner, the table was beautifully set, and the warmth of the home enveloped you. You both talked about your days and how things were.

After finishing the meal, you rolled up your sleeves and tackled the clean-up together, the sound of clinking dishes and the warmth of togetherness filling the room.

You then turned your attention to Elijah, who was starting to squirm in his high chair. You went to change his diaper, the familiar routine providing a sense of contentment as he giggled at your playful face.

Meanwhile, Terry settled in in the living room, PS5 video game music punctuating the air. You felt grateful for the day, not expecting the lovely to suddenly take a turn for the worse.

"Terry?" You called from the top of the stairs, your voice echoing softly through the house. "What?" Terry shouted back from the living room, focused on the video game flashing before him.

"Where's Elijah's lion?" you asked, cradling your squirming son on your hip. You had been trying for the past hour to calm him down, and the soft cries coming from him were starting to wear you thin.

"I don't know; check under the couch," Terry replied dismissively, shrugging his shoulders as if it were a minor inconvenience. His nonchalance infuriated you.

"Shh, it's okay, Eli. Look, it's Simba! You love that movie, don't you?" you encouraged, trying to distract your son while glancing underneath the couch for the stuffed animal.

"Mmm," Elijah murmured, seemingly comforted by your words. You sighed in relief as your fingers brushed against the soft fur of the Simba toy nestled between the dust bunnies.

"Look, Eli, look who I found," you said cheerfully as you handed him the toy. His face lit up, and he babbled happily, his tiny fingers gripping the toy tightly.

A wave of contentment washed over you, and you softly sang a lullaby, hoping it would lull him to sleep. Once, he was peacefully dozing in your arms.

You carefully laid him in his crib and headed back downstairs to confront Terry, feeling both exhausted and exasperated. "He's asleep?" Terry asked, still engrossed in his game.

The screen glowed brightly as he played. "Yeah, but maybe it would've been easier if you actually helped me," you said, descending the stairs with a slight edge in your voice.

"I do help; what do you mean? I just washed the dishes with you" Terry replied, pausing the game and looking at you with an attitude that sent another spike of frustration through you.

"Yeah, when you want to," you shot back, and he rolled his eyes, which only fueled your anger further. "Well, I work," Terry mumbled as if that was the end of the conversation.

"Excuse me?" you asked, standing before him with your hands firmly planted on your hips, refusing to back down. "You heard me, I'm not about to repeat myself."

"I work; I would love to just come home and relax. I put food on the table and clothes on our son's back, and I pay all the mutherfucka bills around here." Tery ranted on.

"Is it so bad to ask for some quiet time?" Terry snapped, his voice rising and echoing in the small living room. You couldn't believe what you were hearing.

Sure, the two of you had minor arguments here and there, but he had never spoken to you like this before.

"I understand what you're saying, Terry, and I tell you how grateful I am for you. But it's not like I'm asking for much! You may be the one who brings home the paycheck," You started, moving in front of him.

"But I'm the one who takes care of our son around the clock; I cook, clean, and manage everything at home. You aren't the only one who's working their butt off!" you raise your voice a little bit.

"What's gotten into you? You never had a problem with this before! Now it's a problem?" You questioned, your demeanor shifting as confusion filled your eyes.

"Maybe I'm just tired of you," Terry said softly, and suddenly, the air in the room felt heavy, as though a dam had broken, releasing all the pent-up frustrations.

"Okay, well, maybe you should've married someone else if I'm such a fucking burden," you retorted, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt.

You dashed upstairs to your shared bedroom, trying to hold back tears. "Shit!" You heard him curse as he called out your name, but you didn't stop to listen.

You closed the bedroom door behind you with a decisive thud, sinking onto the edge of your king-size bed before you buried your face in your hands, feeling the tears coming down your face.

#terry richmond x black reader #terry richmond x reader #terry richmond smut #terry richmond x black!reader #terry richmond fic #terry richmond fanfiction #aaron pierre #aaron pierre x black reader #terry richmond #terry richmond x black fem reader #black!fem!reader #black fem reader #terry richmond x black! fem plus size reader #terry Richmond x plus size reader #terry richmond x fem reader #terry richmond fluff #rebel ridge #terry richmond angst

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witchygagirlwrites · 24 hours ago

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That's my Girl

Jay Halstead x Reader

You've been with Jay since your daughter was a baby and he loves her like she was his own. When your ex winds up back in Chicago and comes looking to play dad Jay isn't backing down.

“Daddy” you heard Vivian giggle as Jay scooped her up, tickling under her arms. “How was your day, baby girl?” She went into telling him about preschool, stumbling over a few words here and there but he listened like it was the most important thing in the world.

Times like this you swore you fell in love with Jay all over again. You weren't sure how he'd handle the fact of you being a single mom the day he asked you out, especially considering at that time she'd barely hit seven months.

He handled it in stride, making some dates to include her and paying your sister to babysit (even though she'd do it for free) so some dates would be just the two of you.

It took you months to trust him enough to open your heart, your ex Paul Victors cheated on you midway through your pregnancy. You had actually come in from the gender scan to find him in bed with another woman, the bed you'd bought.

Everyone at med was there for you, supporting you and keeping him from coming anywhere around you. When Paul had come in one day after you'd come back from maternity leave and wouldn't leave that was how you met Jay, Will called him.

_________________

Jay was everything your Paul wasn't. He was the type of man that could make you feel like everything was going to work out by giving you one of those smiles you adored. He always tried to show kindness where he could, to protect those who needed it. When his anger did flare it up it was never without reason and never pointed at you.

He was patient in the fact that you'd been hurt and that Vivian came first in your life. The first time you slept with him you were fairly certain he'd been more nervous than you.

The way he touched you, kissed you, whispered how beautiful you were…you knew then it wouldn't be long before Jay would own your heart completely.

_________________

The day Jay proposed to you he'd also made a promise to always be there for Vivian. Your wedding was in a few months and Jay was in the process of officially adopting her. Your stomach was in knots over the fact that you had to legally send a notice to Paul's last known address because he had signed the birth certificate.

Jay turned to look at you with a smile, Vivian dangling from his neck “What ya say mommy? Can we get pizza?” You nodded “Of course. If that's what little miss wants” he grinned and turned to sit her on her feet “Ok sweetheart. Go get your jacket” she grinned up at him “Ok daddy” and ran towards her room.

You watched her go then felt him pull you into his arms “You're overthinking Mrs Halstead” you cut your eyes up at him, his blue eyes holding you in place “I just don't want him messing up my life again. I'm happy” a smile slipped onto his face “You're engaged to a detective baby. You have all of the twenty first backing you. He won't come near you or her. The adoption will go through and you both will be Halsteads by the end of the year”

You shook your head “I love you Jay” he pulled you into a kiss, speaking against your lips “I love you too”

You were walking out to your car, talking to Will. He was planning to come over for him and Jay to watch the game that weekend and was asking what food he could bring “Not for you and Jay, for my niece”

You laughed lightly “She has Jay's appetite” both of his eyebrows shot up “God help us” you were almost to your car but stopped in your tracks when you spotted the orange carnation on the windshield.

Will didn't notice the flower but knew something was wrong. “Hey, what is it?” He followed your line of sight and saw the flower “Who's that from?” He asked and you barely got out “Paul”

_____________

When Jay rolled up Hailey barely got the car to a stop before he was out. “Did he come near you? I sent Kev and Kim to pick her up. I'll fucking kill him”

He pulled you into his arms after visibly checking you for injuries. “I'm ok Jay just a little freaked out” he nodded “It's ok. I'll take care of it. I'll get Voight to put a patrol on her school, we'll alert hospital security and we'll keep an eye out for him”

“He's not gonna get near her or you” Hailey assured you with a smile. You nodded, laying your head over on Jay's chest.

You were young when you got pregnant with Vivian and had done a lot of stupid shit. You'd been honest with Jay, of course but what if it was brought up in court?

What if your daughter's life was ruined because of decisions you'd made?

_______________

A few days later you got a call from Jay to meet him and Vivian's school. The patrol car had to stop Paul from entering. He'd ran before Jay got there however.

You stood in the middle of the floor intelligence used at the twenty first precinct holding Vivian in your arms. You knew you were safe here, she was safe but the thought of him trying to take her still had you shaken.

Voight walked up behind you and gently touched your back “Sweetheart, why don't you and her take my office?” You cut your eyes at Jay who nodded so you smiled “Thank you” and walked towards the office, closing the door behind yourself to sit on the leather couch.

____________

“We're finding this asshole right?” Adam asked as soon as the office door was closed and Jay nodded “Oh yeah but whoever finds him first doesn't lay a finger on him. You don't scare my fiance and threaten to take my daughter”

Voight nodded “Kim, stay here with her and Vivian. I've got to talk to a few people. If I'm needed to clean anything up, call me Halstead”

________________

“Paul Victors..drunk and disorderly…resisting arrest..minor possession charges…big jump to attempted kidnapping” Adam spoke as he walked up behind him in the bar they'd tracked him to.

“That's my daughter” he argued and Kevin's hand came to rest of his neck “Let's walk outside my man”

The two of them walked him out between them. Jay and Hailey stood against the wall. The moment he saw Jay he tried to run but Kevin pushed him towards Jay who grabbed him by the collar and slammed him back against the wall.

“You scared the woman I love, you threatened my daughter” Hailey kept an eye on the people around to ensure no one was paying too much attention while Kevin and Adam kept an eye on the bar.

“She's my dau..” Paul didn't get anything else out before Jay's fist hit his stomach “MY daughter” Paul coughed hard “You son of a bitch”

“Did you spit on my partner?” Hailey asked and Jay nodded, wiping his face like Paul had “He did”

Adam tsk tsked “That's assault Paul” and grabbed his cuffs.

Paul was taken to holding while the unit came back up to find you, Kim and Vivian playing a game in Voight's office.

“Hey baby” Jay greeted, pressing a kiss to your lips then kissed Vivian's forehead “Hey baby girl”

You raised an eyebrow at him and he winked at you “C'mon. We gotta meet Voight” “What about her?” You asked, looking at Vivian.

“We got her” Kim assured you so you let Jay pull you to your feet. “Where are we going?” You asked him on the stairs. He whispered “Voight pulled a Voight baby. That's all you need to know”

Voight called in a few favors he was owed. You and Jay ended up meeting with a judge in his chambers. “Jay if you sign here Vivian will officially be your daughter”

You felt his left hand slip around your waist as his right picked up the pen “I love you” he kissed the top of your head then leaned down and signed the paper.

Voight stood to the side, watching. “Congrats Jay” Jay smiled “Thanks Hank”

Hank looked at you “Now you just gotta get the Halstead last name” “What about Paul?” You asked and Jay shrugged “Platt took care of that. He's leaving Chicago. Only way to not face charges”

“I'm free?” You asked and Jay pulled you into his arms “We're free. Let's go get our daughter”

#jay halstead x reader #jay halstead x you #jay halstead fanfiction #chicago pd fanfiction #chicago pd fic #chicago pd fanfic

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grlsbstshot · 21 hours ago

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NEON LIGHTS

Pairing (Original Characters):

Jameson Lucas (Aaron Pierre) x Imani St. Cirie (Megan thee Stallion) Genie Adesanya (Jayme Lawson) x Ellington “EJ” Dupree (Kelvin Harrison Jr.)

Chapters:

Neon Lights Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis: The crew deals with the aftermath of Jameson's album release party and makes major decisions about their futures.

Warnings: toxic relationship, mentions of therapy, emotional breakdowns, mentions of depression, deception in relationships -- if we missed anything, let us know!

Word Count: 5.3k

Divider Template: @cafekitsune

Notes:

The following characters are original creations. Their voice claims are Usher / Lucky Daye (Jameson) & Summer Walker / SZA (Imani). We have no affiliation to any of those artists.

The aftermath of the disastrous album release party left Imani seeking solace in her hotel suite. As she lay in bed attempting to find sleep amidst the chaos in her mind, thoughts of Jameson consumed her. She couldn’t shake the image of him when first laid eyes on her at the party, or how he looked with Camille by his side. The way he wrapped his arm around her waist and held her close made her believe they were happy together but the look on his face made her feel completely different.

He didn’t resemble her Jameson anymore. He appeared…solemn and apathetic. He smiled and talked politely throughout the night but he didn’t seem to be the life of the party anymore. Then again – what did she know about him? It had been a year since they even laid eyes on each other.

After tossing and turning all night, Imani realized she had to let it go. It was time to get back to her life. The next morning, she woke up feeling restless but she forced herself through her usual routine. She took a shower, brushed her teeth, and ate breakfast.Then began coordinating a swift exit from New York with her assistant. The trip had been a disaster and she wanted nothing more than to leave as soon as possible.

As she was sending out an email, a phone number appeared on her screen. It wasn’t saved, but she knew exactly who it was. She had removed him from her contacts but she didn’t forget. Without hesitation, Imani answered on the second ring. “Hello?”

For a moment, there was nothing. He didn’t say anything. But when he did speak, it was like a shock to her system. “Hey. It’s me.” His deep voice was like an earthquake to her core. It left her brain scattered. She needed to think of something fast! This man shouldn’t get to affect her like this.

She laughed, “Yeah. I know, Jameson. What’s up?”

She could hear his hesitation over the line and wondered what this was about. “I was…If you’re still in New York, can we meet up? Lunch or something? I think we should talk.”

“Yes, that’s fine!” She answered eagerly, the pitch of her voice rising in anticipation. She quickly cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure. “I mean, yeah, we can go today.”

Once again, he got quiet. She expected him to call her out on her eagerness. Make a joke, tease her. But he didn’t. He seemed to be all business. “Two o’clock good? At Masa?”

“Yeah, that works. I’ll see you at Masa at two.” “Good. See you then.”

The call ended and her heartbeat tripled in speed. What the fuck did she just agree to? Why was he calling her? Why did he want to see her? Did he end things with Camille? Did he want her back? No, it couldn’t be that easy. He didn’t even flirt with her over the phone. Whatever he wanted, it made Imani nervous. She didn’t know how to handle the man he was now.

After coming face to face with Imani, Genie’s emotions were a rapid whirlwind, shifting from sadness to hurt and now settling into a wave of deep, seething anger. All she could think about that night was her former best friend barging back into everyone’s life without a word of warning. Understandably, her situation with Jameson became untenable and she had to walk away. Genie wanted the best for them both but sometimes love didn’t work out the way she thought it should. But never did she think Imani would cut her off without a word. She didn’t get it. She was her best friend.

She was pissed.

She decided she wouldn’t wait for Imani to reach out. If she did, she’d wait forever. She was taking control of their friendship. Determined, Genie called Imani’s assistant to find out where she stayed in New York. Aman Resorts. From there, it was nothing to get to Imani’s room. She practiced her speech the whole way, strutting down New York streets muttering to herself.

This wasn’t fair and Genie wasn’t going to stand for it.

When she arrived at the hotel, she immediately took the elevator up to the floor the assistant gave her. Genie fought to keep her composure despite the anger within her. When Imani’s voice rang out from behind the door, her stomach churned. Was this the path she wanted to take?

But it was too late. The door opened and Imani was there…looking at Genie in clear surprise. The girls looked at one another and before Imani could say a word, Genie wedged herself between the door and pushed her way inside. The aggressive action wasn’t part of her personality but she stuck with it.

It seemed the only way Imani would take her seriously was to make demands.

She marched past the foyer and found herself in the living room, waiting for Imani to join her. As soon as she heard the door close. She loosened the Chanel purse from around her arm, tossing it down onto the couch behind her as she paced the floor. She could hear the other woman approach the room and Genie whirled around, hurt in her tone. “Was it so hard to pick up the phone?”

To her credit, Imani apologized. Almost immediately. “Genie. I’m…I’m sorry. I–”

But she didn’t want an apology. She wanted answers. “You could have told me that you needed space. I would have left you alone. I wouldn’t have bothered you. I would have just checked in and we didn’t have to talk about Jamie. We could have just…” Her voice broke and tears glistened in her eyes as she fought against them. “You were my best friend. How could you?” The words spilled out before she could stop them.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do after I broke up with Jameson.” Imani confessed, tears filling her own eyes. “I just knew I didn’t want to speak his name. I didn’t want to hear it.”

“Okay but you just left me.” Genie’s voice cracked with emotion. She was fighting a losing battle with her tears. They ran down her cheeks as she glared at Imani. “Out of everyone, you know I would have understood.”

Imani nodded, acknowledging that Genie was right. Being understanding was one of her greatest strengths…but also a flaw. She searched for the good in people every single time and she got hurt because of it. She didn’t want Imani to just be another person in the list of people who hurt her.

“I know, I know. And I’m so sorry for shutting you out. Please forgive me,” Imani begged, her voice pleading and sincere.

Genie’s anger faded as she saw the genuine remorse in her friend’s eyes...but it still lived within her. “I’ll work on it. Just…don’t shut me out like that again or I might kill you.” She wiped the tears from her eyes, sniffling.

The two women eyed one another warily but their love for each other couldn’t be denied. And just like that…there was a glimmer of hope that their friendship could be salvaged. All it took were some tears and a couple of apologies.

“I won’t.” “You promise?” “Of course.” “You swear?” “Yes.” “...Give me your pinky.”

Imani laughed, moving closer to Genie as she wiped tears from her own face and offered her friend her pinky. Genie linked hers with Imani and nodded, the action sealing the promise between them. Imani wrapped her arms around her in a tight hug. “I promise you I won’t. I missed you so much.” she whispered.

“I missed you too.” Genie replied and returned the hug.

“You want to help me pick an outfit? I’m about to go see Jameson in an hour.” Imani said softly.

Genie reared back, blinking at her in confusion. “You’re seeing wh—Oh my god, Imani. Does it ever end?! Show me your options.”

Coming face-to-face with Imani again might not have been the best thing to do. He was already struggling after seeing her last night. And that was only one time. He shouldn’t put himself through the torture of doing it again, but he had to. He had to see if she was alright. He had to reassure himself that leaving her alone was the right thing to do.

He waited for her at Masa, shuffling silverware around nervously as he waited to see her. Meeting in public wasn’t ideal – he knew people would talk – but it was better than meeting her alone somewhere. He needed to keep this above board. His relationship with Camille was developing well. She was good for him. His therapist encouraged him to make decisions that were best for him.

Panting after Imani wasn’t good for him. He spent six months of his life reaching for a bottle of liquor every time he thought of her, literally begging God to have her wake up and come back to him – only to see her leaving LA hotspots with her latest fling. He circled the drain when he couldn’t have her…and he was tired of living like that.

But it would be a lie to say that he didn’t miss or worry about her, so he hoped this could be a new chapter in their lives.

When he saw her being led to the table by a hostess, he rose from his seat. It was a reflex but he followed it. His gaze swept her frame, taking in the outfit. The dark orange bordering on brown. The way her pants hugged her hips. Her belly button piercing was clear as day. Fuck. He had to stop. If they were going to be in each other’s lives, he couldn’t think like this.

They were going to be friends and it was time to act like it.

“Hey Jamie,” she greeted him with a smile. “How are you?” She asked, sitting down.

“Hey. I’m..I’m good.” He said softly, staring at her as she took a seat. Eventually, he realized he needed to be sitting too. Jameson quickly sat and met her gaze with a smile. “Thank you for coming.”

She looked at him, pausing for a moment. “No problem. It’s nice to, um, see you again.” She said softly. This was a side of Imani he wasn’t used to. She was softer and more timid. He didn’t like it.

“We just saw each other last night.” he joked

She laughed, looking away. Imani pushed her hair behind her ear. “I—I know. I just wasn’t expecting to see you so soon. I’m glad I am though.”

“I’m glad too.” He said softly, gazing at her before remembering what he was there for. “I uh–I was worried about you. You left early and I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Again, she paused. She gazed back at him. He studied her facial features, looking for the answer she didn’t want to tell. “Oh, I’m fine. I was tired.” She said, her eyes giving away it being a lie. “Are you okay? You left your party early too.”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I was just tired from finishing up the album.” he said. Their conversation was stiff and awkward just like how it was at his album release party. It didn’t flow like how he was used to.

“Well, um, I’m glad you’re okay, Jamie.” She glanced at him. This time he could tell she was being genuine. “That’s all I want. I want you to be okay.”

“I-I want that for you too, Imani.”

There was a pause. She didn’t speak. Neither did he. Jameson knew what he had to do coming into this conversation, but he was having difficulty finding the words to do it. He exhaled, his eyes meeting hers. “Cami and I are…we’re good together. We get along really well. No arguing, no screaming, no mistrust. We work and I want to see where it goes. She’s good for me.”

She nodded, her smile faltering slightly, but she quickly recovered it. “Good. I’m glad that you’re happy, Jameson. You deserve that.” She said softly.

“Thanks,” he said. “I want you to be happy too.”

“I am,” she said quickly. “I’m happier than I've ever been.”

Her bright smile remained, leaving him hopeful, but her eyes conveyed a different story. He wanted so badly to ask more questions. He wanted to see if she was telling the truth. One of the last things she ever told him was that she didn’t think he was her person anymore. Shouldn’t she be happier now?

And yet, he stopped himself from asking. He had to let her go for her to be happy. It was a thought he lived by for a year. That had to be true. She was better off without him.

“That’s good. I asked you here because I—I want us to be friends, Imani. We loved each other for so long. I won’t pretend I don’t worry about you. I do. So I want us to be okay with each other.”

She paused, glancing at him. “I…I’d like that. I want to be friends with you too. I miss your presence in my life, Jamie. And I just want you to be happy at the end of the day.”

The words sounded nice and Jameson let himself trust in it…even if something in his chest tightened at them. He gave a nod, grateful that she wouldn’t just disappear from his life again.

She left lunch with Jameson, feeling bitter, annoyed, and lonesome. Yes, she agreed to be friends with him. Yes, their conversation seemed to flow after the initial stillness of discomfort. But she didn’t want any of this. She hated hearing him talk about how happy he was with Camille. They were supposed to be the perfect couple - never arguing, never screaming, always trusting each other – not him and Camille. Why couldn’t they get it together? She didn’t understand it.

Before coming to New York, Imani had been so sure of what she wanted - him. She thought it would be easy to win him back, to get back on the rollercoaster of their relationship. But now she could see that he was happily occupied with someone else, riding an easygoing kiddie ride with no thrill, and yet, he was having the time of his life. Imani was pissed. But there was nothing she could do about it; she had to move on, too.

As she rummaged through the clothes in her suite's closet, Imani searched for an outfit that would turn heads. Tonight was her last night in New York before returning to Los Angeles tomorrow morning. After forgetting to book a flight earlier in the day, she didn't want to spend her remaining time in the city sulking in her hotel room and watching Sex and the City. So when one of her industry friends mentioned a party just a few blocks away, Imani jumped at the chance to go out.

She stopped flipping through her clothes when her hands landed on a sleek black fitted dress. It hugged her curves perfectly - this was exactly what she needed.

The party was everything she had hoped for - alcohol flowing freely, fine ass men everywhere, and good vibes. It was the perfect distraction from Jameson. Imani took another shot of tequila and relished in its bitter burn as it slid down her throat.

“Okay, bitch, let’s go dance!” She exclaimed to her friend before they made their way from the bar to the crowded dance floor. The music was loud and pulsing, and Imani didn’t even know what song played, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was letting the beat move her body and forgetting about Jameson for the night.

As she danced, Imani could feel all eyes on her, but there was one set of eyes in particular that caught her attention. Through the dim lights, she could only make out a few of his features, but she recognized his gaze - he had been watching her all night. And she was sick of him just staring at her without saying a word. So Imani took matters into her own hands.

After the song ended, she confidently strutted over to where he sat. “You just gone stare at me all night and not say nothin’?” She asked with a sly smile as she finally got a good look of his handsome face. He had smooth caramel skin, his haircut was sharp like he just got it done, and a perfectly trimmed beard - exactly her type.

He chuckled and licked his full pink lips before standing up to meet her. Okay, he was tall too. Another plus. He stepped closer to her. “Oh, I was gon’ come talk to you. I was just waiting for the right time,” he replied, holding out his hand for her to shake. “I’m Isaiah and you?”

“Imani,” she said softly as she shook his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

"It's nice to meet you too, Imani." He smiled, flashing his diamond tooth fang. He pulled his hand away. Isaiah's neck, wrist, and earlobe were dripped in diamonds that danced harder than the crowd did. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"Yes, I don't see why not. You can get me a lemon drop with a sugar rim."

He chuckled, "I like you already. You know what you want and I fuck with that." He said, a hint of admiration in his voice. She liked him too. Isaiah wasn't Jameson, but he was a perfect distraction to forget him.

EJ glanced at his phone, noticing the two missed calls. One from his manager and another from an artist he was working with while in town...but he had much more important plans going on then as he browsed the website of Aspen resorts. He leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs and rolling his shoulders. The faint sound of knocking at the front door pulled him from his hard work.

He carefully exited out of the browser before making his way to the door, hoping it wasn't Genie. He wanted to surprise her with dinner plans but hadn't even started to cook. Thankfully, it wasn't her. It was his best friend.

“Hey. What's up?" EJ said, opening the door wider to let him inside.. He noticed the tension in Jameson’s posture, the way his fingers twitched against his thigh. “I know you left early last night. You good?”

Jameson sulked into the room and dropped into the chair in the attached living room, taking a deep breath as his face clouded with something heavy. “I had lunch with Imani today.”

EJ shut the door behind him because he knew he was in for one hell of a story but he did his best to keep his tone neutral. “And?”

“And…” Jameson hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “I asked her to be friends.”

He took a seat across from Jameson, crossing his arms as he leaned back. He didn’t miss the way Jameson avoided his gaze and he immediately braced for bad news. “That’s…progress, I guess. But you don’t sound convinced.”

Jameson exhaled sharply, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “It doesn’t feel right. I thought it would. I thought that time apart would make things easier when we saw each other again but it's like..." He shook his head, his voice dropping. “It’s like nothing’s changed. I’m still drawn to her. And I hate it because Camille deserves my best.”

EJ frowned, his jaw tightening. He cared about Jameson, but he wasn’t about to sugarcoat things. “You’re right—she does. She’s good for you, man. She’s steady, supportive, and she actually cares about your well-being. She’s not a tornado like Imani.”

Jameson shot him a look, defensive and protective all at once. “Imani ain't a tornado. I put her through a lot of shit. She had to choose herself first.”

EJ held up a hand, waving off Jameson's defense. “Yeah, you did. It was fucked up. But that being said...she made the choice to walk away. That means staying away. And maybe I'm being a dickhead about it but you gotta admit -- shit with her has always been…complicated. Even when y'all were good, shit could go left within a minute. With Camille, it’s simple. She’s there for you, no drama, no games. She’s what you need, not just what you want in the moment.”

He could see Jameson mulling over his words, the conflict etched across his face. EJ hated seeing his friend like this, but he wasn’t going to let him spiral back into the mess he’d clawed his way out of.

Jameson finally spoke, his voice quiet. “But it ain't that simple. My head knows Camille’s the better choice, but my heart…Man, my heart starts thudding every time Mani girl looks at me. I sat with her at lunch and I just wanted --” He trailed off, shaking his head.

EJ sighed, leaning forward. "Let me know when she looks at you and I'll tell her to close her eyes."

"EJ, c'mon." "No, you c'mon. You spiraled, Jay. Your mama had to move into your house and take care of you." "I was fine. She was being dramatic." "You weren't eating." "I ate!" "Barely! You barely ate enough to get through the day but you drank enough to get through anything. Y'all were rocky before then you cheated but after that, everything got all fucked up."

Jameson looked up at EJ, seemingly wounded by the mention of his infidelity. He saw it was the root cause of all their problems but he was being foolish. He and Imani started having issues before he cheated. “Look, I’m not saying it’s easy. But you’ve worked too hard to get your life back on track to throw it all away for something that might not even work out. Camille’s solid, Jameson. You and Imani keep burning each other. Stop the cycle.”

Jameson nodded, but EJ could tell he wasn’t fully convinced. He’d seen that look on his friend’s face before, the one that meant he was caught in a tug-of-war between his past and his present so EJ decided to give him something else to think about. “Speaking of relationships…I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

Jameson looked up, his expression curious. “What’s that?”

EJ hesitated for a moment, a rare flicker of nervousness passing through him. Then he smiled. “I’m going to ask Genie to marry me.”

Jameson blinked, leaning back in his chair. “Wait—what? You’re serious? You’ve only been together a year,” He was staring at him like he’d grown a second head. “Are you sure about this?”

"Of course I'm sure," EJ muttered defensively. "That's my baby. She's sweet, creative, and intriguing. I ain't never met anybody like Genie in my life. She makes me happy and I want to spend the rest of my life making her happy."

Jameson processed what EJ was saying, and a small smile crept onto his face. “Okay, okay. Good. Soft ass. Should I give you the speech?”

"What speech?" "That "If you hurt my sister, I'ma knock ya head off your shoulders" speech?" "Ain't nobody scared of your big ear ass."

Jameson got up, jokingly taking a swipe at EJ but the other man was much faster. He dodged out of his chair and laughed out loud. "I'm gonna need your help to do it. I want to catch her off guard. You, her dad. She loves Aspen. So I'll do there in February."

“Anything you need,” Jameson said without hesitation, though he still looked a little stunned. “You’ve got it. Just let me know.”

EJ nodded, a rare moment of vulnerability settling over him. “Thanks, man. It means a lot.”

"Well, let me get out of here. I got dinner plans with Cami." Jameson said, heading to the door before pausing and turning back. He clapped EJ on the shoulder. "You're a very blessed man. Genie's had a heart of gold since she was a kid. If she's your soulmate, God really did smile down on you."

EJ smiled wistfully, his tone soft as he spoke of Genie. "Believe me. I know how lucky I am."

His mind still lingering on his conversation with Jameson when he heard the door to their rental open. Knowing it was Genie, EJ got up and went to the kitchen to make her some tea. "Duke?" She called out, using the nickname he had grown fond of. "You here, baby?"

"Kitchen!" He called out and sure enough, she came around the corner looking every bit as serene and graceful as she usually did. "I take it you feel much better now?"

The past few months had been rough for her. She was building resentment and anger. It was the total opposite of her everyday persona but watching her now...it seemed that she had managed to handle those feelings very well.

"I do. I saw Imani this morning."

EJ’s body stiffened for a moment before he forced himself to relax. He didn't hate Imani but he was always on edge. She had the power to twist his two favorite people into knots and he didn't like that. “Yeah? How’d that go?” He beckoned her closer and she came to wrap her arms around him.

“It was…unexpected,” Genie admitted. “But we talked. We cried a little bit. I think we’re going to work on our friendship going forward."

“That’s good, my love,” EJ said sweetly, turning his head to kiss her as he waited for the kettle to warm. "I'm happy for you both."

Genie tilted her head, watching him carefully before she uttered her next words. "She also told me she was going to have lunch with Jameson.”

Even though he knew it, he still felt his stomach drop into his feet. Imani didn't even know how much power she had over Jameson. She had him rethinking his entire relationship with a woman he'd been with for six months. One sighting, two conversations...and he was considering throwing it all away. EJ schooled his expression, wanting to appear neutral to his girlfriend. “I know. He came to see me after.”

Her eyebrows lifted, curiosity in her eyes. “Really? What did he say? What'd they talk about? I didn't call Mani to ask. I didn't want to be too nosy.”

EJ hesitated, then gave her a reassuring smile. “He said they talked about being friends. They agreed. And uh -- that it felt like a step in the right direction.”

Genie studied him for a moment, brows furrowed. She knew it didn't sound like Jameson. But then...stranger things had happened than him practically growing up and being mature. She seemed to accept his answer with a nod, placing her head on his shoulder. “Maybe it is. I hope so -- for both of them.”

The kettle whistled on the stove and EJ reluctantly pulled away, lifting his hand to pat her bottom gently. "Go get comfortable. I'll make you a cup of tea and we can talk some more."

She gave him a beautiful smile and nodded obediently, practically skipping out of the kitchen giddily. He liked making Genie happy. If he had his way, he'd see nothing but bright smiles and happy giggles from her for the rest of her life.

EJ finished up in the kitchen, making her tea and finding a snack for her to nibble on before dinner. Taking care of Genie was one of his main priorities. It was why he rationalized lying to her about what Jameson said.

As he exited the kitchen and moved into the living room, she was stretched across the couch, knit blanket across her legs as she scrolled her phone. Her hair was curled, pulled into a ponytail. She hadn't even tried and she was gorgeous as hell. “I was thinking we should take a trip. We go back to Cali next week but maybe sometime soon -- we can go somewhere. Take a little trip?” He told her, setting the tray down as she pulled her feet up, giving him room to sit.

Her eyes lit up, and she sat up straighter. “Really? Where to?”

“Anywhere you want,” EJ said with a grin. “But...I've been looking stuff up in Aspen. That house you told me about? Talked to the owner. She'll let us rent it for a week in February.”

Genie’s smile softened, and she shifted closer, tucking herself under his arm. “You're too good to me, Ellington Dupree.” She didn't say anything more but she clung to him and he knew she was grateful.

“Please. This is nothing. Wait til we're together for ten years. I'm going to be hella annoying.” EJ said, pulling her into his side and resting his chin on the top of her head. “I want to make some time for us. No distractions, no work -- just enjoying life together."

EJ kissed the top of her head, feeling a pang of guilt for the lie but knowing it was better this way. “You know what? Maybe we should make this trip a family thing. Bring your dad? I can bring my mom and sister?"

Genie looked up at him, surprised but intrigued. “That’s actually a great idea. They’d love that.”

EJ smiled, brushing a curl from her face. “Good. Let’s do it.”

She hesitated, biting her lip as if a thought came to her.

"What?" "Hmm? Nothing." "You sure?" "Yeah. Us and our families. Sounds perfect."

She smiled, leaning into him. “Thank you. For everything.”

EJ kissed her forehead, holding her tightly. As they sat together in the quiet of the house, he felt a sense of calm settle over him. He was making the right decision. He wanted this for the rest of his life.

The lights of New York spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Camille’s penthouse. it was a beautiful view but Camille wasn't looking at it. She stood at the kitchen island, her phone buzzing incessantly on the marble countertop. Even glancing at the screen made her nervous.

[ +33123456789 ]: What's going on, Cam? [ +33123456789 ]: Are you seriously not going to tell me? [ +33123456789 ]: You're temporary, remember that.

Camille exhaled sharply, locking the phone and setting it face down. She poured herself a glass of wine, trying to push the words from her mind. Meeting Jameson was never supposed to make her feel anything. He was a handsome face that a friend wanted for herself. Camille's job was just to see if he was open to seeing someone else. Sleeping with him and falling for him wasn't part of the plan. But he was on the verge of being hers now and what her friend wanted didn't really matter anymore.

Even if guilt gnawed at her. The knock at her door startled her, and she quickly smoothed her silk robe before padding over to answer it.

The object of every thought she seemed to have lately stood on the other side, his tall frame illuminated by the hallway light. In his hands were two lush bouquets of roses, one red and one pink.

“Good evening." he said with a soft smile, cradling the roses in his arms.

Camille’s heart fluttered as she took him in. 6'3, solid frame, the most beautiful green/blue/whatever damn color they felt like being eyes? Jameson Lucas was one of the most beautiful men she'd ever seen...and she spent all her time with male models. "Roses? You’re spoiling me, Mr. Lucas.” She moved aside, letting him inside as she reached for the flowers.

“I would hope so.” Jameson replied, stepping inside as she moved to place the bouquets in vases. He had been to her place much more than she had been to his so he shut the door behind him -- getting comfortable. "I like the look in your eyes when I do something nice for you. It's very sexy."

Cami glanced over her shoulder at him, her lips curving into a playful smile. “You’re laying it on very thick tonight. What’s the occasion? You missed me?"

Jameson shrugged out of his jacket, kicking off his shoes and lining them up perfectly against the wall in her living room. "Yes." He called out to her, following her into the kitchen. He leaned against the counter, watching her with an intensity that made her stomach flip. “But no other occasion. I just wanted to see you..”

Even as her hands finished arranging the flowers in its vase, Camille's face was hidden behind the beautiful roses. Her cheeks were warm as she turned to face him. “Well, you’ve seen me.” she murmured, not looking at him as he rounded the corner and stepped into her space.

“Not enough,” he replied, wrapping his arms around her waist. Jameson pressed his head against hers, tilting his head to kiss her shoulder. "I told you. I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately."

"Thinking what about me?" "Everything." "Mhm. I know what that means. You cannot put me in that position again. You almost broke my hip last time."

His humorous laugh warmed her heart and she was proud of herself for being the one to make him happy. Her breath caught as he reached for her hand, his fingers warm against hers.

“I"ve been thinking...I want you to be my girlfriend,” Jameson said, his voice steady. "I've been taking things slow because -- of the past. But I have to look forward. No second guessing. You're good for me. I like being good for you. If you would have me, I want to keep building on this."

She turned in his arms, the smile that spread across her face absolutely illuminating. “I wouldn't mind building a life with you.”

"Very enthusiastic response here." He grinned, dipping his head to give her a kiss. She melted against him, the laughter bubbling in her chest gone. The warmth and the steady beat of his heart grounded her. This was real. He chose her...over Imani. This didn't feel temporary.

"I didn't expect to care about you like this." She confessed against his lips, clinging to him tightly. Her hand moved from his, sliding up his wrist. Her fingertips grazed the watch he always wore and then moved to his biceps. He was hers. All hers. "I believe in you and I want you. I'm crazy about you. How's that for enthusiastic?"

“Very good. I like it." He sighed. "You make me happy,” he murmured into her ear.

“You make me happy too.” she replied, her voice soft.

They stayed like that for a moment, wrapped in each other, swaying in her kitchen. When he pulled back, his lips brushed hers in a tender kiss that left her breathless.

She didn't let herself think back to those messages. Even if Jameson found out, she didn't think he'd care. Neither of them meant to get serious about each other. It didn't matter why she had approached him. Only that she did and they hit it off.

She pushed the thought away, focusing instead on the way he held her, the way he looked at her like she was the only person in the world. For now, she could let herself believe in this—believe in them.

#aaron pierre #megan thee stallion #aaron pierre x black!oc #megan thee stallion fanfic #aaron pierre fanfic #megan thee stallion x black!oc #black!oc #celebrity fanfiction #celebrity ocs #fic: neon lights #Spotify

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possibilistfanfiction · 3 days ago

Note

if you're still taking caitvi prompts: first time

do with that whatever you wish, i love seeing what you come up with

[caitvi wedding!! if there's one thing about me it's that i love outside pov so some ekko pov, some little hints of 207 :) ao3 if u want.]

'and you're sure you have the rings?'

jinx groans from where she's sitting on the couch and flops back dramatically, no regard whatsoever for her dress; you roll your eyes but vi is so clearly nervous you pat your pocket and assure her, 'right here, just like they were five minutes ago.'

'okay,' she says, then looks in the mirror one more time. she fusses with her hair, her undercut neat and the rest swept back out of her face; she straightens her already perfectly tailored suit jacket. you share a smile with jinx when she lets out a big breath.

'let's go get you married then, yeah?'

vi blushes all over again, an expression you could only accurately describe as lovesick on her face. jinx groans again but she happily tucks her arm into the crook of your elbow when you offer, kisses you on the cheek.

vander is crying before he even starts walking vi down the aisle, while you wait in the wing of the reception hall attached to the truly gorgeous garden that they're getting married in. it's a much larger affair than vi had wanted but a much smaller one than caitlyn's mom had tried to insist on, and there are fairy lights and, predictably, violets everywhere, and vander hugs vi tight before you and jinx get your cue to walk down the aisle before them.

it's more pomp and circumstance than vi wanted — the rows of chairs, each side fairly equally attended, and the full course meal at the reception, and the string orchestra who starts to play. you helped plan most parts of it: jinx was officially vi's best man, a title she insisted on, but you'd helped out with a lot of the logistics she didn't really seem to have capacity to deal with on her own. it was fun, though, to work together with one another and with jayce, caitlyn's maid of honor — another title jinx insisted on, which had made jayce laugh while he easily agreed — to truly irritate cassandra, as she politely, after a few months, insisted you call her. for all her intensity that had driven jinx up the wall, you could tell she really does love caitlyn, and caitlyn loves vi, so the compromises became easier and easier as your planning moved along.

and now, it's perfect, you think as you stand next to jinx and watch vi get teary the second she sees caitlyn in her wedding gown, tobias smiling widely beside her. she's tall and regal and graceful and pretty, and when tobias kisses vi's cheek and then sets caitlyn's hand gently in vi's outstretched one, blushes on both of their cheeks, you let out a relieved breath because it's actually happening, and it's all turned out so wonderful.

the ceremony itself is short, and they say their vows through easy, happy tears, caitlyn using vi's full name at one point in a tone so reverent, in a way only she can manage, in a way only she has ever had permission to, even you feel like you might cry. you hand the officiant the rings when it's time, and vi smiles at you, and her hands shake but they're strong and purposed when she slides the diamond band onto caitlyn's finger, and then caitlyn kisses vi's palm before slipping the thick, simple gold band onto her finger. soon enough, they kiss — short and sweet but with enough passion to make jinx grimace, which makes you laugh as you squeeze her hand — and then they're introduced, for the first time, as the kirammans, together.

the reception is, quite genuinely, the best party you've ever been to, thank you very much. there's dinner, and tons of finger food, and you're relieved that both vi and caitlyn actually do manage to eat because they both constantly have a glass of champagne in their hands, accepting many toasts. they share a first dance, vi very seriously concentrating on the steps from the classes she took and the moves she practiced with you and jinx until caitlyn grins and kisses her cheek and whispers something in her ear; vi laughs and her posture relaxes while she tucks her head into the crook of caitlyn's neck and they just sway, easy, happy, an intimacy earned over years of steadfastness.

there's the father-daughter dance, vander and vi making quite the pair next to the easy elegance, born and bred, of caitlyn and tobias, but they end up laughing together by the end. vander and tobias sit together afterward; they're family, now, but they have been for years already too.

'hey, cass,' jinx says, leaning back in her chair when she notices caitlyn's mom walking up to your table. she has a pinched expression on her face at the nickname, and you have to fight the urge not to laugh — but she's family too. for all of cassandra's annoyance, you think she actually does have a soft spot for jinx.

you're proven right when she sits down, poised as ever, and says, 'i just wanted to thank you both.' she looks over at caitlyn and vi, who are wrapped up in each other. vi's hair has lost some of its careful styling, starting to fall into her eyes, and she's ditched her suit jacket, draping it over caitlyn's shoulders instead. caitlyn's eyes are a little unfocused, an unknown number of champagne glasses in, her cheeks flushed, a gentle hand on vi's jaw before they kiss. 'i've never seen caitlyn so happy.'

'you can say it,' jinx responds. 'we were right.'

cassandra sighs, displeased, but then, after a beat, they both laugh. 'perhaps we owe ekko, our peacemaker.'

'you definitely do. i accept venmo, paypal, zelle, or also you can just pay our rent.'

cassandra raises a brow, but it's fond and amused, so much like caitlyn. 'i was under the impression that, perhaps, my daughter might already be doing a fair amount of that.'

caitlyn does help with the rent on the apartment you and jinx share, it's true, and she randomly has groceries delivered sometimes; she and vi have taken you and jinx on some pretty epic climbing trips, and neither you nor jinx are going to finish your graduate programs with any debt. but, still, 'new car, then?'

cassandra laughs and jinx leans forward, intrigued. 'great suggestion, babe.' she slings an arm around your shoulder. 'cassandra, we'll get back to you on the make and model. hybrid, though, for sure.'

cassandra rolls her eyes but, when she stands, she does wrap jinx in a soft hug, and then squeezes your shoulder.

jinx clears her throat, and you decide to spare her from any teasing, just this once. a song comes on that you both love, and she perks up. you grin, and then offer your hand. 'may i have this dance?'

she rolls her eyes but she takes your hand tenderly and leads you to the dance floor.

thankfully, even though you'd been best man part 2 — jinx's official title for you — you don't have to give a toast. jinx does, though, or at least she'd badgered her way into caitlyn and vi letting her; she's still, always will be, a loose canon, but she's deeply cared about this wedding, so you know she wouldn't be too crazy.

she tells a funny, sweet story about how vi would always scare her monsters away when they were little and then continues. 'caitlyn, i'm very grateful that i get to annoy you officially now, forever.' caitlyn laughs, so content. 'and vi, thank you for saving my life, so many times and in so many ways. and thank you for being my big sister. i love you.' vi wipes under her eyes and smiles so big jinx can only smile back just the same. she lifts her glass. 'to the happy couple.'

the party is dwindling down, caitlyn and vi already having left to go to their hotel room before they leave on their honeymoon in the morning. jinx swipes a bottle of champagne and takes your hand, then leads you out to a terrace that overlooks the city and sits on the edge, her dress carefully tucked beneath her.

'some night,' she says, wistful.

it's hard to look at her, now, without getting overwhelmed, so you keep staring at the buildings, far off in the distance, their shine and shimmer. 'it's beautiful.'

'where'd you learn those moves?' she asks, teasing.

you've danced together for years, all through college and grad school, but, still, tonight was special. 'oh, i was just following your lead.'

jinx laughs. 'he's got lines.'

you laugh, and you sit in the quiet with her for a bit.

'thank you,' she says, eventually, quietly, so sincere your heart breaks a little bit.

'for what?'

she gestures in the air vaguely, and you understand that sometimes things are just too big for words. it had been a hard few months, far beyond wedding planning: one of jinx's most important medications had started to have worse and eventually untenable physical side effects, so she'd had to be hospitalized to figure out a new combination that would help keep her psychologically stable much more comfortably and safely, and with fewer other medications to manage side effects. it was easier than it was in the past — partially because caitlyn had gotten her, immediately, into the best program in the nicest facility with experts she herself had recruited, but mostly because jinx was so determined to get better again, on board for all of it. even on the days she wasn't as lucid as you'd grown so used to, her psychosis was different: gentler, less tortured. she was kind to you, through it all.

'you know you never have to thank me for stuff like that,' you say. 'getting to have all of this with you, it's more than i ever dreamed.'

'still,' she says, and she's so beautiful. 'i know i’m… a lot. so y hank you.'

'you know i'd never give up on you, right?' you tuck a strand of hair, grown out in the past year so that it sits at her shoulders now, bangs that you'd clumsily helped her cut one night like you were kids again, behind her ear gently. her eyes are so clear, so blue. she tucks her head into her chest and you wrap your arm around her. you've loved her your whole life; you've loved her like this for years. 'but it's such a happy night,' you say. 'want to just... pretend like it's the first time?'

it's hard, sometimes, to hold all the grief of your lives when you were younger, all the grief of a brain so troubled and so extraordinary, in the same hands that hold all the joy — your palms aren't big enough, or they're too rough, or they're not strong enough, or they shake and tremble and it all slips through your fingers. it's hard but it's worth it, when she feels it too, when you get to hold it together.

her hand is gentle on your jaw, cool and thin and brilliant, and it's easy to remember your first kiss, to remember all the first kisses that came after that as she healed too. it's easy to kiss her again, for the first time. there are vows here too, ones the two of you say all the time: you make sure she eats and she makes sure you get to bed on time; you lift the weight of the world off of each other's shoulders with silly inventions you make together, and belaying safely, and holding her when she can't quite make out what's real and what isn't. you're real, and your love is real, and the promises are holy, and unspoken, and there all the same.

she sniffles when you back up. 'who knew vi's stupid wedding would make me so emotional?'

you laugh, wipe under her eyes to catch her slightly smeared mascara. 'i could've guessed.'

'we're never doing this, right?'

'a kiramman wedding? god no.'

she grins.

'i'd elope for tax cuts, though, if you ever wanted.'

'incredibly romantic.'

you both laugh and you lace your fingers with hers and then shrug. 'it's you and me.' you bring your joined hands to your mouth and gently kiss the top of hers.

'you and me, forever,' she adds.

'that sounds pretty good.'

'yeah.' she looks out at the city, the light brought down like stars. 'it does.'

#arcane #arcane fic #caitvi #jinx x ekko #idk what their ship name even is lmfao but i love them #i have been bereft over 207 for so long. they can have a happy time if i am in CHARGE! i am still bereft tho #also imagining jinx having to plan a wedding w cait's mom... inherently funny #v passionate abt jinx & some mental health care too love u girl

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neovillains · 1 day ago

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FINDING EQUILIBRIUM · GOJO SATORU

( EPISODE 4 : PURRFECT TIMING ) things have seemed to be going smoothly. gojo manages to reconcile with his friends, even introducing you to them. however, just as things seem to get better, things turn downhill once again. | watch time: 3.2k words.

── chat noir!gojo satoru & student!reader, angst & fluff, friendship reconciliation, confessions & heart ache, featuring geto suguru & shoko ieiri, etc.

note. y'all not ready for the end of season one tbh.

Just as told, Professor Mei Mei had assigned the class a project. It seemed to be easy enough— create a presentation revolving around the different cultural practices that might interfere with different businesses around the world. The professor uploaded the class’s partners online through a QR code, but Gojo was already on his way towards you when the professor instructed all the students to meet with each other before the class ended. Your typical class partner stood up, groaning that she had to leave you while Gojo took her spot. Sliding into the chair, he has a happy smile on his face when he lets out a dragged out groan. “Oh, how I’m happy that you’re my partner.”

“Why?” you chuckle. “So you can throw me all the work?”

Gojo scoffs, pulling out his laptop from his bag and plopping it down with a metallic thud. “Why do you keep making up these lies? I’m not going to leave you hanging.”

For the rest of the twenty minutes in class, you had set up the powerpoint while Gojo researched journal articles to use for the assignment. Simultaneously, the two of you chatted about everything but the project, finding humor in anything and everything as by the end of the class period. By the time the two of you were walking out of class when she dismissed everyone, Professor Mei Mei had her eyes on the both of you. “I hope the two of you actually got some work done with all that talking.”

And in unison, you and Gojo both responded, “We did!”

The two of you both agreed on times that you could meet up and do the assignment. On a handful of days, it was either in your apartment or his. But on various occasions, the two of you decided to meet in the library or at a cafe on campus. There were a handful of times where Gojo had texted you that he was going to be late, but he always assured you that he would be there and that you would not have to do his part. He upheld himself on that promise, always rushing in late and plopping his stuff down. He’d be a panting thing, always looking like a mess, and thus leading you to never question his whereabouts.

Plus, you were impressed by his work and ideas, not having to reformat and reword things like you would typically need to when you worked on partnered assignments. Gojo constantly reassured that you were in good hands for this assignment and that he wouldn’t let you down, and he held true to that word.

Today, the two of you were doing the finishing touches on the assignment. You were fixing things up style-wise, centering the titles and assigning designated fonts for everything. You made sure that everything was appeasing to the eye, while he worried about correct citations and fixed up any misspellings and grammar. The two of you were perched at a table in the library, iced coffees sitting on each other’s rights. You reach for your cup, taking a sip of your vanilla iced coffee and typing with your next hand. Gojo was hunched over, squinting at the screen as his mouth opened up a mere centimeter.

“I think…” he breathes. “I am… done!”

He shuts the screen, the assignment autosaving as he throws himself back in the seat. He stretches his arms, hearing the cracks in his muscles as he stretches. With a huge yawn, he squeezes his eyes shut while you’re still at it. Watching you silently, he chuckles with a shake of his head. “You’re doing too much work.”

“No, I’m not,” you simply retort. “I’m just making sure that everything is presentable.”

“I’m pretty sure it already is,” he sighs. You shake your head, eyes starting to burn but you refuse to wipe them. “No, I still have to do the transitions and animations for the text and pictures.”

“There you go,” he chuckles. “Proving my point.”

“Didn’t you say you were glad to work with such a scholar like me?”

“Yeah,” Gojo says. “But I’m starting to regret it.”

With a sarcastic laugh, you finally shut your laptop screen. “I’ll finish the rest of it later. I’m pooped out.”

The two of you are about to leave, agreeing to go out and get lunch together before heading your separate ways. Walking together out the door, you can’t help but think about how the more you spend time with Gojo, the more your heart flutters. You enjoy getting to know the man, his interests and what he doesn’t like. He’s very easy to talk to, which you aren’t always used to, having to take some time to open up. Today, he wore a sweater that was twice his size and a pair of charcoal gray sweatpants and it was so simple, yet it sparked up a heat inside of you that made you feel embarrassed.

You feel so abashed, wondering if it’s normal to be experiencing such high school level emotions as someone in their early twenties. Your breathing grows heavy as he draws closer to you, nudging your shoulder as he teases you about something. The both of you had agreed on getting Chinese down in the food court, about the head down when he all of a sudden stopped. He spots two familiar faces. His heart pangs when he sees Geto and Shoko sitting at a table on the other side of the library. His step falters as you walk ahead. When you look back, he says, “Wait up for me? I wanna speak to a few… friends of mine.”

You follow his gaze, ultimately nodding as you walk ahead. “I’ll meet you in the courtyard.”

Gojo doesn’t get it. As Chat Noir, it’s so easy to confront his enemies. To put on a brave face and go against them in a battle of two-on-one. Is it the extra hand that makes it easier? Is it the fact that he’s not alone? He fiddles with his fingers, picking at the dirt inside of his fingernails before inhaling deeply.

One foot in front of the other, he walks over to their table, his shadow alerting them of his presence. They sit rigid in their seats, looking up at the taller individual as no one says anything for a while. Shoko has to be the one to break the stifling silence between the three of them as Geto turns his gaze away from Gojo. “Do you need something?”

“Can I sit right here for a quick minute?” Shoko looks over at Geto, but Geto’s gaze is still on his laptop, typing away furiously in order to keep his attention off of Gojo. Shoko lets out a sigh, having told Geto that he needed to speak to Gojo in order to get things resolved. However, the boy seemed to be more stubborn than an ass. She motions to the chair, giving Gojo the go ahead with a slight eye roll. “Go ahead.”

When Gojo grabs the chair, he spins it around, leaning against the back of it. His breath trembles as he averts his gaze down to the table instead of directly at them. “I want to apologize—”

Geto scoffs, cutting off Gojo before he can continue. Gojo inwardly curses his best friend for not making this any easier on him, but an apology isn’t supposed to be that— easy. With a deep inhale, Gojo continues, finally looking up to see that both of their eyes are on him. Geto gestures for him to continue with the roll of his hand. “Go on.”

“I want to apologize for the last time we saw each other,” Gojo fiddled with his fingers underneath the table, cracking each and every knuckle until he couldn’t crack anymore. “I—” He had practiced this in his head a thousand times, rehearsing as he knew exactly what to say. He had made plenty of plans and wasted initiatives to meet with them when he could, but always bailed at the very last moment. Now, everything that he mentally prepared himself was gone and out the window of his mind. “—I was lying… I do have something to hide.”

“Oh?” Geto didn’t expect this much from him. An apology, yes, but was he really going to reveal the very thing he was suspecting him to be? Gojo nods, losing some tension in his shoulders.

“I can’t tell you what though,” Gojo grows more confident, looking the two of them in the eye. “I just… can’t. And I really wish I could. The moment I found out, I wanted to, but—” If he continued on elaborating, Gojo knew they could possibly guess what or badger him to know in more further detail, so he restrained himself. “—I just can’t tell you guys what.”

Finally, he raises his hands to the table, his entire body relaxing. “I’m sorry for constantly ditching you both. I’ll try to be a better friend from now on.”

Shoko looked happy, seemingly approving of his apology. However, Geto was the one he worried for the most. He knew how well his friend could hold a grudge. Both Gojo and Shoko stared at the long-haired man, waiting for his approval. With a deep sigh, Geto dropped his shoulders. “That’s all you could have said from the jump. We would’ve understood.”

“I know,” Gojo elongates his groan. “But I panicked and instead, made everything worse.”

“That you did,” Shoko agrees with a point.

“Can I treat you guys for dinner as an apology?” Gojo beams, a smile gracing his features.

“What?” Geto quips. “No lunch?”

“Nah,” Gojo says, standing up. “I actually have to go meet someone for lunch.”

Geto and Shoko give each other a curious glance before raising their eyebrow at Gojo. They saw the person he was with earlier, both questioning to themselves who that possibly could have been. Shoko asks, “Is it that girl you were studying with?”

His eyes widened, not knowing that they had seen them together. He nods. “Yeah, we were working on an assignment together.”

“Mm,” Shoko hums. With the look on his face, Shoko can tell that there’s possibly more than them just simply sharing a class together. Geto and her have both seen the two of them walking alongside each other a couple of times. The way they talked— the way they looked at each other seemed to be something more to it. “Well, I wouldn't want to keep her waiting much longer.”

“Yeah,” Gojo agreed, looking over at Geto. Relief flooded him seeing that his best friends were finally talking to him, and happy with himself for finally doing the hard part. “I’ll see you guys later?”

“Yeah,” Geto agreed, before giving him a pointed look. “That’s if you’re available.”

“I’ll let you both know what’s up,” he grins from ear-to-ear.

Equilibrium— Gojo remembers learning that word in high school. It’s when two opposing forces or influences are balanced. It was universal amongst the majority of topics and discussions that the word can be applied. However, in that class, he was working on different chemical reactions and how he could bring them to an equal state. He liked the word— different from equivalent or equilateral. The word just had a nice sound to it. But now, he felt like he could apply it to his regular life and how it fit to the occasion. He was trying to find a balance between college, his social life, and being a hero. Never seeming to be able to find enough time to juggle all three.

However, now, he feels like he’s one step closer. Catching up to you in the courtyard, he jogs in your direction. Hands open like a cat ready to pounce, his palms capture your shoulder as he shouts, “Boo!”

You jump with a high-pitched squeal, turning to see the devil-eyed culprit. You groan, eyebrows frowning as you slapped at his chest. “You asshole!”

“Yeah, yeah, you love me,” Gojo laughs, throwing a hand over your shoulder. He walks at your height, hunched over as his feet clunk on the floor. A shiver runs down your spine at the heat of his body against yours. Your body tenses up and you’re hoping he doesn’t notice.

“I really don’t,” you grumble, despite the heat rising to your face.

“Ready for lunch?” His face turned towards you, so close.

“Mhm,” you nod. “You’re paying.”

You maneuver yourself from his hold, going ahead of him. He chuckles, standing tall as he strolls after you. You didn’t need to run. He was going to pay either way.

Yeah, Gojo nods. He’s finding equilibrium.

—

At some point, you and Gojo become a regular thing. He doesn’t ask what you’re doing and if you have the time for something, he just messages you that he’d like to do something and tell you to join him, and you’d just agree. Or, he’d ambush you on your way out of classes to seek out your comfort in the library or the campus cafe right next to it. He becomes such a natural occurrence in your life that you don’t even question it, not that you ever did.

Tonight, he’s invited you out with his friends. The ones you saw in the library— Shoko and Geto, if you’re remembering them correctly. You feel so tense in their presence, watching how fluidly they interact with each other. Shoko’s sitting to your left, elbows on the table as she leans over, silently listening to the two goofballs. She’s glancing at you occasionally, wondering if you’re usually this quiet. You don’t seem that way when you’re with Gojo.

“You alright?” She directs her attention to you. “Or, are you tired of us already?”

“No,” you shake your head. “I’m good.”

“So,” Shoko begins. “You’re a business major, too, huh? You’re not as obnoxious as the rest of them are. How do you deal with it?”

You snort at her comment, eyes lighting up as you shift towards her. “I disassociate and shut them out from the rest of the world.”

“That’s what you must be doing with Satoru, then. Ignoring his annoying ass.”

“Oh, definitely,” you giggle. Gojo squints his eyes, looking from Shoko to you. He’s enjoying the fact that you’re getting along with her, watching how you’ve come to relax in her presence. You start to laugh before glancing over at him and immediately reverting your attention back to Shoko. Something itches inside of him to interject, no longer listening to Geto when he blurts, “Are you guys talking about me?”

And boldly you say, “Yes, and it’s all about how horrible of a friend you are.”

Gojo pouts, taking your statement seriously as he turns his attention to Shoko. “I thought we got past that. Haven’t you guys forgiven me?”

“Oh my gosh,” Shoko gasps. “She was joking, ‘Toru. Can’t you take those anymore?”

“Oh,” he juts his bottom lip out. The two girls give each other a look before laughing together. The rest of the night goes smoothly, integrating each other’s separate conversations into one. The four of you are loud in the small restaurant, having to be told on multiple occasions to silent down. When the sky gets too dark, you and Gojo say your farewells to Shoko and Geto.

“It was nice meeting you guys in person,” you wave. “I’ve only heard your names when he was talking about you. It’s good to put names on the faces.”

“It was nice meeting you, too,” Geto smiles. “It’s good to see ‘Toru talk to someone outside of us.”

Gojo grimaces, groaning at Geto’s statement. “Yeah, whatever. We have classes tomorrow.

“That’s a fucking lie,” Geto snorts, but dismissing the two of you. “Whatever. Good night.”

You don’t remember the last time you’ve ever confessed to someone. In junior high, you believed? But each occasion that you’ve had a crush, you were always the one to cave into your emotions and confess. It’s the same way you're feeling right now, feeling the way your emotions are starting to bubble on your chest, slowly starting to kill you.

Right now, Gojo’s right next to you as you’re unlocking the door to your apartment, making sure that you get inside safely. You’re fumbling with your keys, but the urge to confess is starting to ruminate and boil over. You’ve gone through your keys for the fourth time before you just finally give up and spin around. “Gojo, can I ask you something?”

It comes out so abrupt that it catches him off guard, making him straighten his posture as he nods. “Yeah, you can ask me anything.”

“I—” Maybe you were getting way too ahead of yourself, reacting immediately to your impulses. “I…”

You take a deep breath, controlling your racing heart. “I don’t know if I’m getting way too ahead of myself, but… I don’t know. I could be reading all the signs wrong and I’ll feel like a complete idiot, and then I’ll feel like a complete idiot, but—”

Gojo’s eyes widen, taking in what you’re saying— through all your rambling and nonsensical words— he can deduce exactly what you’re trying to say. He should be elated because deep down, his heart was begging for the exact same thing. However, fear begins to seep in his heart in regards to your safety. Gojo could give you the love that you needed, but Chat Noir can’t. His two identities would only hold you back, and he wouldn’t be able to give you what you need.

“—Would you like to go out sometime? As a date.”

You’re waiting so expectantly, pretty eyes that look up with him— a fine mixture of anticipation and nerves. You’ve got a horrible habit of biting your nails, chewing on them and feeling the crunch as you peel at them with your teeth. Your heart starts pounding, beating against your chest in strong attempts to escape. It’s too long of a wait and by the time he calls out your name, it’s a low whisper. His eyes drop and there’s something in his eyes that immediately makes you assume, no. “I— I’m sorry, but…”

Gosh, you cry. I feel so stupid. You shake your head, quick to dismiss it as he calls out name again, telling you to wait. However, you choose to ignore it.

“Don’t worry about it,” you grab your keys, going to unlock the door. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

With that, you shut the door on Gojo. Tears streaming down your face in utter embarrassment as you curse yourself. But, you could only put the blame back on you. That’s what you get for being too hasty, you chastise yourself. You wipe away the tears as you blindly lead yourself to your bedroom, dropping your bag by the door and diving straight on the bed.

Outside, Gojo still stands by the door. Cursing at himself for hurting you, he runs a hand through his hair, pulling at the knots. Just like that, that band of equilibrium breaks in two. Two unequal pieces as both solutions start bubbling over. I'm an idiot. I'm an idiot. I'm an idiot. It's all that Gojo can repeat to himself. In the little opening of his bag, Plagg looks up at Gojo with his bright blue eyes. “Why’d you say no? Don’t you like her?”

“I do, I just—” Gojo sighs, giving up. “Just forget it. It’s just one other thing that I was bound to ruin.”

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo fluff #gojo satoru angst #gojo angst #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk angst #jjk fluff #x reader

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anzynai · 2 days ago

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Nothing Special

Scaramouche & Lumine (Genshin)

a/n: first fic of the year so i couldnt start it off with just anything. happy birthday scara!!! ur like my second favorite character and i surprisingly havent written for you that much (i know right?? 💔💔) anyways, he might be ooc since i dont write for him a lot but i hope its not too bad. disregard any typos you might see as well. someone needs to tickle him BAD. this was supposed to be posted later today but im impatient so youre welcome i guess. ANYWAYYYY i hope u guys enjoy <33333

summary: it’s scara’s birthday. tickles ensue.

wordcount: 1.5k

——

Scaramouche’s birthday had never been anything special to him. It was nothing but another day of the year. He couldn’t count how many of them he spent crying or alone. Or both.

Eventually, he became used to being alone. Instead of feeling sad or upset, he felt nothing.

He sat against the tree, reading a book he had gotten from the library at the Akademiya. He was barely a quarter in when a small bird flew atop of it, lightly pecking at his finger.

He stopped. Blinked.

“..Hello,” He muttered. The bird looked at him, chirping in response.

It hopped from the book to his wrist, its wings fluttering as it continued up his arm. Scara almost couldn’t help the smile that found its way onto his face as the bird finally perched on his shoulder, leaning against his neck.

“I suppose you can stay here. As long as you let me finish reading this,” He said to the bird. Again, another chirp, as if it actually understood.

He looked back at his book, only getting about two words in when..

“Oh, there you are!” He heard a voice calling out to him. As he was in the middle of nowhere, it was likely him who was being called. He looked to his right and lo and behold, it was the traveler walking towards him with a blue and green decorative box in her hands.

“..Hi,” Scara, the man of many words, said.

“Hi,” Lumine giggled, her expression bright as she walked up to the other. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Oh, then you must have really needed me,” Scara replied.

Without saying anything, Lumine handed him the box in her hands. It didn’t take a genius to assume what it was. “A gift?”

“Happy birthday, Scara!” Lumine exclaimed, clapping along to her words.

Scara ignored the flutter in his chest, heart warmed by the gesture, but he kept his face straight and controlled. Sometimes, he felt as though the traveller could tell what he was feeling because she tended to notice even the smallest cues.

Instead of focusing on that, he focused on pulling the ribbon from the gift, pulling open the box.

From inside it, he pulled out a small bag of the only candy he really had ever liked. Taking a curious glance at Lumine, he could notice how it looked like it pained even her to give him black licorice. For the sake of his birthday, she stayed silent. It was an amusing sight, perhaps even better than the candy itself, Scara thought to himself.

Inside, there was also a small stuffed doll that resembled him too much to be a coincidence. “Is this.. me?”

“Yeah, it was custom-made by me and a few others. What do you think?”

He got the urge to feel for the other doll he has in his pocket, so he does. He took it out, comparing the two.

“Now your doll has a playmate,” Lumine giggled to herself. It sounds childish, like being gifted a doll.

And yet, he found he liked it quite a bit. His lip quirked up just slightly, but Lumine caught the action anyway, if the gleam in her eyes had anything to say.

As if it was excited, the bird chirped gleefully in his ear, nuzzling and poking at his neck. “H-heheey! You stop that,” Scara gasped, scrunching his neck.

“You’re ticklish?” Lumine asked, cupping her hands over her mouth and suddenly, he felt a bit embarrassed.

“…Not at all,” He answered, lying.

“Really?” She tilted her head, staying silent for a moment that lingered too long to be anything but suspicious. Then a second later, she had this scary looking smirk that Scara found he didn’t particularly know where this was going. “So you won’t laugh or anything if I do this?”

The ‘this’ in question was Lumine quickly reaching out to grab his sides before he could stop her, squeezing gently. He flinched, unprepared and a blush arose on his pale skin.

“Lumine—“

“Ah, you lied,” Lumine tutted. “Birthday or not, don’t you think you deserve some form of punishment?”

Where was the almost too kind Lumine and who replaced her?

“Don’t you d-AHAHARE— stohop!” Scara felt his sides being kneading into some more, sensitive tingles spreading throughout his body unbearably. It was a feeling that was once foreign to him, but has since found himself quite found in these past months since meeting Nahida and a few others who insisted on bothering him each time they crossed paths. He hated to say that even then, he quite enjoyed their presence. He never realized how nice it was not being alone.

“You’re so cute! Who’d have thought you’d be so ticklish?” Lumine cooed, in a way where he couldn’t tell if she was teasing or didn’t realize the effect of her words. Her quick and nimble fingers found his ribs, lightly grazing and tracing over each rib. Like a piano, his laughter rose the higher she got. The bird, seemingly encouraged, began pecking gently against his neck again, causing him to scrunch up more, bringing his knees up to himself.

He felt the urge to kick out, but resisted with all his might, not particularly wanting to hurt Lumine or the bird.

“S-stohohop thihihis..!” He sputtered, trying to bite his lip to conceal his laughter, which apparently had the success rate of 0% if the fact that there was still laughter pouring from his lips was anything to go by.

“Should I give you some mercy for your birthday?”

“Luhuhumine! Y-you…!” Scara could barely say anything when she started digging into his underarms, a spot that he hadn’t known was so sensitive until recently.

“Yes? No? I need an answer,” Lumine sighed, slowly and dramatic. Scara wanted to roll his eyes, but he was a bit too distracted to pull off the action effectively.

He curled in on himself, his arms clamped to his sides, but Lumine was always stronger than she appeared, able to tickle him anyway. He felt much weaker by the tickling, which he was sure also helped give her the advantage.

“O-ohohokay, yehehes! Nohoho mohohore!” Scara shouted, at last, feeling overwhelmed by the ticklish sensations. Lumine relented, giggling proudly at herself. The bird continued pecking softly at his neck for a few more seconds, residual giggles falling from the wanderer’s lips. Eventually, it hopped onto his cupped hands.

“That was fun,” She admitted. “I don’t get to tickle people often, but I like making them laugh,” She added, with a sort-of melancholic look in her eye. Scara didn’t ask, getting the sense that she didn’t want to talk about it.

“For you, maybe,” He replied, to keep up appearances, but a part of him was already craving more.

“Now come on,” She stood, holding out her hand for him to grab. “Let’s go.”

“Go?” He asked, because he didn’t realize he was supposed to be anywhere.

“I’m not letting you spend your birthday alone—“ The bird chirped at that. “Okay, mostly alone, with your nose in a book. I’m taking you out to eat. My treat.” She insisted, flexing her fingers to urge him to grab her hand. This time, he took it.

He walked with her to a restaurant that he had always seen, but had always walked past. The second the doors opened, he squinted his eyes at the darkness.

“Are you sure this place is—“

“Surprise!” Multiple voices shouted out at once and the light flickered on. Confetti shot into the air, popping loudly.

Adjusting to the light, he saw that there were more people than he thought, all of them which he recognized as people he had, “against his will” he often claimed, became quite acquainted with.

Sethos. Nahida. Paimon. Tighnari and Cyno, as well as Kaveh and Alhaitham, the two pairs seemingly a package deal at gatherings like this. There was also Nilou and Collei. Even though he would never admit it, he had grew quite fond of each of them, getting along with him much better than he thought he was capable of.

“Happy birthday!” each of them congratulated him, and he mumbled his thanks in a bit of a daze. The tips of his ears were hot and no matter what he did, he couldn’t stop it.

“How are you feeling?” Lumine smiled next to him, as everyone chatted with one another. He heard Kaveh and Alhaitham bickering with each other as Nilou giggled at the sight. Collei and Sethos seemed to be engaged in conversation as well and Tighnari seemed to be miserable as Cyno tried to tell everyone bad joke after bad joke.

He grumbled. “There’s quite a bit of people here,” He replied. Lumine turned to look at him. “But I guess company like this isn’t so bad once in a while. So.. thank you.” He admitted, feeling himself turn a way, feeling a bit flustered as he fidgeted with his doll in his pocket.

Lumine chuckled beside him.

Thank you. He thought to himself. Maybe my birthday can be something special if I get to spend it with all of you.

#tickling #tickle fic #genshin impact #genshin tickling #scaramouche #wanderer #lumine #lee!scaramouche #ticklish!scaramouche #ler!lumine #birthday fic #jai’s fic

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alex-thegiraffeboyy · 2 days ago

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Chapter 8: California and me

Bewitched Masterlist

Summary: After the best break they've had in years, Violet and tu wake up together and discover the new insecurities of their friendship. They are also introduced to new conflicts.

Words: 4.8k

Warnings: Vi may get a little excited, but nothing explicit. Body insecurities, confused feelings and mentions of injury. Lots of feelings, sorry.

N/A: Happy New Year! Sorry this took so long to arrive...

Waking up for the first time after years at Vi's side is definitely an experience, starting with the fact that they both have a hard time waking up (something they are sure hasn't happened to them in years). And even though at some point in the morning you wake up, Vi's warmth along with her warm embrace coaxes you back to a sleepy state again.

Your bodies feel heavy, but at the same time light. You are a tangle of limbs, but somehow you managed to stay hugged (or something like that) for the rest of the night.

Ekko tries to pick you up in the morning, and although he respects your privacy, not hearing you respond ignited a spark of concern. At this hour you're usually more than awake and active, but there's not half a trace of you. So the sight of the two of you cuddled and fast asleep catches him off guard, and he doesn't have the heart to wake you, so he just goes back outside as quietly as he can and carefully closes the door.

The people in the kitchen see him pass by and ask about you, wondering if you've left the lair before (even though they know you always let them know when you know it's going to happen) or if something had happened to you, since it was the second time you didn't show up, something unusual for you. Ekko just shrugs and casually replies "She's fine, she's just resting".The people in the kitchen are surprised and quickly turn to look at each other. Ekko can't blame them, a part of him is surprised too. In all the time they've all been here, they've never, ever seen you rest of your own free will. It's always because of some injury or illness, always fighting with Ekko, claiming that you're fine, that you can still help.

So everyone is quite happy when they hear that you've decided to rest a little more that morning. Although they don't really know (except for Ekko) that it's all due to Vi's uncanny ability to relax you and make you feel calm enough to sleep a couple of hours longer.

🦋

It is almost noon when they both finally manage to wake up.

The first to emerge from sleep is Vi, opening her eyes slowly, blinking repeatedly to adjust to the light (in fact, she finds it strange, even disturbing for a second to wake up in such light when she's so used to waking up in the dark cells of Stillwater). Her eyes move slowly along the walls, acknowledging her surroundings, reminding her head that she is no longer in prison, that Caitlyn got her out the day before, remembering everything else that had happened. Which leads her to remember where she is right now. More precisely who she's with. Her eyes drop down to you, your face is inches from hers and she can feel your breath through the arm she has around your waist. She knows you are real, she knows you are there.

Oh, my goodness. You're there. You're there with her. You are not a hallucination brought on by exhaustion or a beating.

She hugs you against her body tightly and gently. She rests her head against the crown of your head and breathes in the scent of your hair. A mixture of smoke and spices. She leaves a kiss there and closes her eyes, breathing slowly. Finding comfort in the moment and enjoying it. She hear a low moan come out of your mouth before you pull away from her long enough to look into her face.

You feel confused, your head feels strangely light and your body very relaxed. You're not used to waking up like this. You blink a couple of times and yawn as you register the presence beside you. A part of you feels embarrassed. What did you do now that you don't remember and that you will (probably) regret later?.

But when your gaze clears and you focus on the girl in front of you, all your doubts and anticipated regrets vanish. In front of you, Violet is watching you with a relaxed, affectionate smile. Her head is lying back on your pillow and her hair is disheveled.

Say you're surprised is an understatement.

You're too sleepy to take in everything you're feeling at this very moment, so... You just admire her. You realize that her cheek isn't the only thing where she has a tattoo. Yesterday you were so nervous that you didn't notice it, but now, holding her next to you, you notice the nut-shaped tattoo on her neck, and the t-shirt you lent her reveals her tattooed arms. Your eyes roam over her, and you are tempted to move to see how far the tattoo goes.

Vi, on the other hand, just watches you, but a part of her feels nervous about the way you look at her. She knows she's attractive. Jesus, God knows she's been told that too many times for her own good (and she's no stranger to how attractive she looks, honestly). But you don't look at her lustfully. You don't see her as if she's the sexiest thing you've ever seen. No. You see her... as if she deserves to be seen. You see her with such awe, such fondness. Your eyes are curious as you watch the curves painted on her muscles, as if she's the most amazing, coolest thing you've ever been able to observe. And she doesn't know how to feel about that. She's never really thought she deserved to be seen that way.

To be seen vulnerable.

And when you decide to raise your hand to gently trace the inky lines she doesn't stop you and she doesn't pull away either, because she knows she is safe here with you. Because she enjoys the way you look at her (and touch her), she enjoys this intimacy.

"It's a great job. Did you get them done in Stillwater?" your voice still sounds sleepy, and she can't quite take in the gentle way you speak to her.

She answers you with an affirmative murmur "It's pretty amazing what some people can do in prison with ink stolen from some guard and some toothpicks."

Your eyes widen a little at her response, but it is quickly replaced by a smile settles on your lips "Yeah, you betcha."

Vi doesn't think much about it, indeed, she doesn't even think about it, it just comes out of her mouth "But the tattoo on my back is even better".

That seems to wake you up enough. You sit up abruptly, startling Vi a little "No fucking way" pulling her out of place, she blinks a couple of times at you, as she notices the excited smile on your face "You have to let me see it".

Vi's cheeks soon turn a soft shade of pink at your words. She opens and closes her mouth a couple of times not knowing what to respond, and a part of her feels frustrated at feeling so self-conscious. She's been totally naked in front of women before (and in much more intimate ways than this), so why does she feel so shy at your request?

She doesn't realize how long she stays quiet and lost in thought, but you clearly do, which makes you wonder if you've just overstepped a boundary, if you've made her uncomfortable with your request and screwed things up "I mean-" your eyes flick nervously around the room, your hands shake nervously and a strained smile graces your lips "You don't have to if you don't want to. It's a stupid request, I'm sorry if I just made you uncomfortable, it just sounds like a really cool thing to do and I just wanted to-"

"Okey"

"Huh?"

Vi lets out a small laugh at your reaction, a soft smile lingers on her lips "You caught me off guard, Sunshine. But it's okay, I'll show you the tattoo" The pink still lingers on her cheeks, and her smile is slightly embarrassed.

"Vi, seriously, if this makes you uncomfortable you don't have to-"

"It's okay, Sunshine" Vi repeats softly, taking your hand and giving it a squeeze "I... I know I'm safe here... With you. And I really want to let you see it" your expression softens at her words, your eyes looking into hers with a warmth and affection that she's not ready to face. At least not yet. "Besides, I know how much you like to have references to draw from" she says teasingly as a smirk replaces the soft smile of a few seconds ago, which elicits a chuckle from you.

Vi sits up and turns around with her back to you, and although from that moment you can see a piece of her tattoo on her shoulder blades, you are not prepared for what you are about to see. Vi takes a deep breath as she grabs the ends of the t-shirt fabric, fiddling with nervous fingers. Finally she takes the ends of her sides and lifts the garment up, pulling it over her head and leaving it on her arms to cover her entire front. And the first thing that greets her after the sound of the fabric passing over her skin is silence and your soft breathing. Vi almost always has a witty comment, a flirting phrase, something. But right now she doesn't know what to do.

Say something, please.

Her breath feels stuck in her throat, and she feels strange. Normally she doesn't care what people think of her, but with you it's different. What would you do if you think the tattoo is awful, if you think she's awful? What if you find her unpleasant? If her back is too toned instead of delicate and feminine and you dislike that. What if it's not enough? what if it's not-?

"Violet this is so..." and she is ready to hear any horrible word come out of your lips, she is ready to hear that she is too masculine or anything like that. So when you softly complete "Violet this is so beautiful" (You are so beautiful, you want to say) she knows she is lost.

Your eyes scan up and down her back and you pull back a little to get a better look at her, and soon you realize you feel as if you are under a spell, mesmerized by the sight of her bare back. You watch every stroke, every line of ink on every defined muscle on her body. Your cheeks along with the tips of your ears feel hot, and you make a great effort to keep your hands on your thighs "Can I...?" You get caught for a moment in your throat, you feel nervous, and you're afraid this time you'll break a boundary and make her feel very uncomfortable. You're afraid to fuck things up "Can I touch your back?".

Vi feels you stop breathing for a second. The air becomes tense for a few seconds, and you're about to take back your words and apologize when you catch the soft nod she gives you. You take a breath before lifting one of your hands gently, bringing it to the center of his back, where two large circles and lines of dark ink divide his shoulder blades "I'm going to touch you now" your hand stops below the circles, over the strokes of nuts and lines on his spine and shoulder blade. Your thumb traces the circumference delicately, your eyes dart around curious and amazed at each piece of exposed skin. You bring your hand up to trace the lines of smoke, and you don't realize at what point your other hand lands on Vi's waist, you just feel her body tense a little more, but you think it's because of your attentions.

Vi sits there, straight and as stiff as a broomstick. Her hands are pressed against her thighs, holding tightly to the cloth of the clothes she still keeps in her arms to cover her chest. She can't help it if every so often a shiver runs through her, causing her to give a little jump, only to immediately hear a whispered apology from you. But she doesn't feel able to respond, mistrusting her own voice to give you a proper answer. She feels your fingers trace every muscle and inky line with soft, loving touch as she feels the thumb of your other hand trace distracted circles on her waist. She doesn't know how to feel, a part of her feels incredibly warm and nervous, while another part of her feels calm and somewhat anxious, insecure, I might say. But it is specifically at a shallow caress that traces her entire spine to her lower back that makes her thighs clench, and she has to keep her mouth shut and almost bite her tongue to keep from letting out an embarrassed sound. But you're too distracted and amazed to notice.

Your hand slides several times across her skin, and you soon realize that this was a bad idea. Because you feel it's not enough. You feel like you need to trace every bit of her, that you need to kiss every inky line, every muscle, every mark....

But you know you shouldn't.

So you admire the tattoos for a few more seconds, your thumb making circles on her left shoulder in a groove-shaped tattoo. And before you can even think about it, your body acts on its own, pulling you closer to her other shoulder and leaving a kiss there "Thank you" you murmur, still next to the skin you just kissed, leaving a tingle there.

"It's nothing, Sunshine" although in reality, Vi feels every part you touched on her back (and even parts you didn't even touch) tingle

🦋

Later, when you are both dressed in your usual clothes and much more relaxed, you both chat as you make your way to the dining room, where a very anxious Caitlyn is standing in the food line.

A malicious grin climbs to your lips "Do you think her majesty is mad at us?" you ask teasingly before giving her a playful look.

She lets out a snort at your gaze before turning hers to the enforcer "I think so" her gaze softens and a tender smile covers her mouth, her eyes look away "But it was worth it".

And as they both approach Caitlyn all you can think about is how glad you are that Violet is back in your life.

🦋

Caitlyn was very tempted to ask them what took them so long to wake up so late, but, honestly, she didn't want to know. So she preferred to keep her mouth shut rather than find out things she didn't want to know (even if none of what she thinks actually happened).

During the day, Caitlyn, Ekko, Vi, Scar and you put everything in order so you all can leave to take the crystal in a few hours. You come to the conclusion that only Ekko will go with Caitlyn and Vi to talk to the council, but that you will still accompany them to the bridge to make sure everything goes well before returning to supervise everything (along with Scar) at the tree. And your mission out of the sanctuary would be postponed until they could get everything in order.

And despite your best attempts, you can't stay with Vi for more than five minutes before something requires your attention (Plus, you're embarrassed to interrupt Vi and Caitlyn while they're talking, you don't want to seem nosy... ), so you really only spend some time together at lunch before you get back to some important situation.

Which gives you time to think.

You know you have feelings for Vi, even after all these years, it's still there. But you know that, despite what you both would most like, she's not the same. But you want to get to know this new version of her. Rather: You want to fall in love with her changes instead of just the past.

But you are afraid. What if she's not interested in who you are now?

What if she doesn't like you?

And that's not all. There's something. Something in the way she look at Caitlyn, the way she talk to her, the way she smile at her. Maybe you're delusional, but you've seen enough people over the last 7 years to know that Vi, at least, is attracted to the enforcer.

And you don't feel able to compete against that.

You'd much rather see her be happy with someone else than ruin her friendship with your complicated feelings.

So you reinforce your walls and build new ones in your heart.

. . .

But Vi, on the other hand, doesn't know exactly how she feels. It's all happening too fast and she can't process everything she's feeling.

She knows she's attracted to Caitlyn. She think she's smart, attractive (God, too attractive) and she know's she's a good person, but she know even better that she loves you. That she's in love with you and wants to love the person you've become. That you seem the most beautiful and attractive person to her even after all this time. She wants to know every new like and dislike, to know what makes you laugh and all your new quirks. She wants to be a part of your life.

But just like you, she's terrified of messing things up. Even this morning's event! Should I consider it as something beyond friendship? You... Were you attracted to her or was it mere curiosity? Is it just physical or does you like her too?

Are you in love with her?

She has so many unanswered questions. And she's very tempted to ask you to get an answer. But... She just got you back. She doesn't want to screw things up.

Besides, what if the person you are now doesn't manage to match with her?

Her head is spinning and her feelings feel tangled in her chest and give her a headache. She know's that right now her number one priority is to find Powder, but you also want to resolve this dilemma of emotions.

They are both so in love that they would rather see the other be happy from afar than risk screwing up their friendship with complicated feelings.

But at the end of the day, it's Violet who decides to step up and put her hands in the fire.

Or at least that's what she intended.

🦋

Once night falls over the streets of Zaun and Piltover, the four of you leave the lair and make your way to the bridge that connects the two cities. On the way you notice Vi something... Distant. She looks at everything with curiosity and confusion, and it seems that a part of her is not quite there. You walk beside her, your eyes searching everything for threats, but at the same time you take a moment now and then to look at Vi, and you know she's thinking too much. She still has that look she had as a child, the one where her eyebrows furrow, her eyes narrow and seem distant, her jaw tenses and her lips grimace. You move a little closer to her and carefully intertwine your pinky with hers. You remember that physical contact always did Violet good in these types of situations, however, you keep your grip loose in case that is no longer the case. Vi seems to snap out of a piece of her trance at the contact, her gaze is now focused on her connected limbs, but she's not quite there yet. You give her a few moments and make sure she's not uncomfortable with your proximity before making another move "Is everything okay?".

Your question finishes reconnecting her with her surroundings. Her eyes clear and her hand moves to hold yours instead of just your pinky. Her gaze moves to yours, softening as she meets your eyes. She nods slowly as a lazy, almost shy smile spreads across her lips, yet she says nothing.

But that's enough for you.

And when you reach the bridge you all stop at the edge. Ekko and you look ahead with a sense of dread, while Vi looks down at her boots as she holds your hand tightly. Caitlyn glances at the bridge before returning her gaze back to you to continue the plan, but everyone remains in awkward silence for a few seconds until finally Ekko decides to break the tension by turning towards your figure. His eyes connect with yours, and Caitlyn can swear that the two of you are having a conversation through your gazes (and they probably are, a product of the years you've been working together - plus, he's your brother). Ekko chuckles and you can only smile in amusement "I guess I'll have to let you take care of the tree while I'm gone."

"It took you a while" you reply teasingly as he rolls his eyes.

This is an inside joke between you. After the firelight society came to life and you quit your job, Ekko made sure to take over almost 100% of the tree and the firelights. While he split some of his leadership responsibilities with Scar and you (his second's-in-command), he tried to make the full weight fall on him and his partner, never letting you help more than was just and strictly necessary in the larger affairs of the tree "You've taken over everything - from both of us for far too long. Let me take care of this" he had asked (almost begged) you one night when he insisted that you should rest and let him take care of things. So you were more like a... Third/Fourth in command? Sometimes Ekko preferred to let anyone take over as long as he could keep you from worrying (even knowing that you will because you'll find out somehow).

"Don't get used to it" He replies teasingly as he approaches you. On your side, you gently let go of Vi's hand (who notices when you pull your hand away and part of it returns instantly) to receive the embrace of your brother, who once in your arms let out a shaky sigh as he tightens his hug "Everything is going to be okay" you whisper softly, holding the back of his head in a comforting gesture you've had with him since he was a child. You know that what he's about to do is a big step and means so much to the cause you both have, so you offer him all the support you can.

When you both finally let go, you both give each other a firm nod, even though you can't help but smile at him, sometimes you forget that he is no longer a child who needs to be taken care of and it makes you nostalgic, but at the same time it makes you extremely proud. Caitlyn and you connect glances and nod to each other and then rest your gazes on Vi, who has been very quiet during the ride.

"Vi ?"

She lets out a sigh before looking at the three of you, and you notice that her eyes linger a few seconds longer on you "I can't leave them" Her eyes return to Ekko and Caitlyn with decision "not again".

Her words have a curious effect on you. On one hand, your heart skips a beat in excitement knowing that she will stay in Zaun, and that one of the reasons is you, but at the same time your heart squeezes and your stomach contracts knowing that the other reason is Jinx. You know better than anyone, you know that Vi wouldn't give up on her sister so soon, and you understand that. You would do the same in her situation.

But Jinx doesn't know any of this from her position on the bridge post.

"Why are they taking so long?..."

Her head is a mess. The voices echo and her heart is a tangle of threads that tighten, unravel and tangle again and again.

She knew she must have considered this option when Violet returned to Zaun. Of course she wouldn't want to run back to this shitty place. What a fool, she'd obviously go with that damn nasty Piltie.

Leaving her again.

Damnit

The voices scream, the voices talk, the voices won't even let her think.

Don't fool yourself, you know why she's leaving and you know why she's gone.

She hates you

Back then she said she needed space, but you know better than that.

Shut up.

She didn't want you then, she doesn't want you now

You're a nuisance.

Shut up.

You're a jinx.

And then she sees her sister say goodbye and walk away holding hands with the one she once called her sister as the other two continue on their way. And the voices finally fall silent.

She stays.

And she is tempted to get down and go where they are going, but decides to wait to see how it all plays out.

And the voices come back when she sees the hextech gem on Ekko's artifact, and they get even worse when she sees you and Vi running back to where they are.

She could have fought for you years ago, but she didn't. Why would she do it now?

Why would she do it now?

"Liar."

🦋

When they reach them the bridge is covered in smoke, and the intense light at the beginning of Piltover almost blinds you, but among all that you manage to find Ekko's body, and, damn, how glad you are to have made him the bulletproof metal.

Behind you Vi checks on Caitlyn, who has sliced her leg open, you lose yourself in the way she holds her, the way she looks at her... But you hear footsteps and your gaze stops on Jinx.

No, shit, not now

Ekko stirs in your arms. "she have it" you whisper, knowing he is aware enough to understand you. You hear him curse under his breath before carefully getting up "I'll get her, you stay here and catch it" The air remains heavy at his words, he exchanges a quick glance with you before reaching for his tablet "You'll have to take the stone with the council".

You panic, your eyes widen and your heart sinks in your chest "Ekko, don't-" but you don't have time to speak, Jinx has started shooting and Ekko has shot off on his board towards Jinx. It all happens in the blink of an eye, and before you know it you have the container in your hands "Go with them, Sun."

"You can't-"

"Now."

Shit.

Your gaze hardens, and maybe you're gritting your teeth a little too hard on the inside of your mouth, but you still give her a quick nod before walking over to Vi and helping her carry the enforcer.

You are almost off the bridge when you hear the bang and feel the floor rumble, pink smoke is everywhere and the smell of gunpowder fills the air. Jinx detonated a bomb.

No, fuck, please don't. God, don't take him.

And there's only one thought in your head. You have to go back, if there's a chance to save your little brother you have to go.

You hurry up and help Vi to a hallway, and as she puts Caitlyn on the floor you unhook the container and give it to the injured woman. You hear the footsteps of the executioners in the distance. Shit, you don't have much time. You dismount your board, activating it as you walk at a brisk pace to the start of the alley.

"Wait."

But you don't listen, you're just setting your board afloat when a tug stops you "Where are you going?"

"Let me go, Violet" Your voice is strained as you try to wiggle out of her grip "I need to go" The footsteps sound closer, but you still have time. You need to get out now. "I need to get back to the bridge" your heart hammers hard, so hard it hurts. Your breathing quickens and you feel the tears building up in despair.

"Sunshine, you can't go back now, the enforcers-"

"HE'S MY BROTHER" Your voice echoes off the walls and a sob sneaks in at the end of your sentence, you're shaking and frustration fills your body "If there's any chance of saving him- both of them-... " you whisper through tears and sobs, looking with a hardened gesture at the woman in front of you "I have to go back."

"Sunshine-"

"And I need you to stay here and make sure everything goes well" Your words leave no room for doubt, and Vi's heart is squeezed as you climb onto your board.

And holding back tears she watched you leave, because she couldn't make you stay, not when she knew how you felt.

And this is so fucking wicked, such a fucked up play of the universe.

N/A: I know you didn't ask me, but, in fact, Sunshine has about 5 tattoos, I just didn't put it in so you could imagine her the way you want.

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moonlightspencie · 3 days ago

Text

And I Will Follow You Home

Chapter 6 of ‘treacherous’

Pairing: Remus Lupin x fem!Reader

Word Count: 3k

A/N: the final chapter! i may do some blurbs within this universe if anyone wants them as well, but this series is officially complete.

“Hey,” a voice came softly.

Remus turned towards the wall, unwilling to move from the bed.

“Remus.”

“What?”

Sirius sat with his friend, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, there’s a meeting downstairs in ten minutes. Most of the others have already arrived.”

Remus fell silent again, clenching his jaw. Sirius huffed a sigh, shaking his head to himself.

“You can’t keep skipping the meetings, mate. They’re important. You’re acting like a big baby.”

“You don’t understand–”

“What I understand is that she’s still showing up, and you’re not. Considering you’re so hung up on your age, you’d think you’d be more inclined to act like an adult.”

“I can’t look at her,” Remus admitted quietly, pulling the covers over his shoulders.

He had hardly been able to look at himself in the mirror after that night, let alone come face to face with you. You’d admitted you loved him, and all he could do was wreck it. It’s all he ever seemed to do, he thought, was to wreck things. He knew he was acting like a child and a coward, but he couldn’t bring himself to admit he’d wanted you just as much. Now he was coming to terms with the fact that he may never have the chance again.

“She still looks for you every time she comes into the house, you know?” Sirius said, crossing his arms.

“Probably so she can steer clear.”

“You’re the one who practically told her no.”

“No, I didn’t,” he snapped suddenly. “I didn’t. I just–”

“You just told her you didn’t want her right now. That’s just as bad, mate.”

He was quiet, the guilt creeping in again, washing over him. Sirius let out a breath, standing from the bed.

“We start in ten minutes. Be there, Mooney, or else I’m bringing everyone else up here,” he stated, then left the room.

You were sitting in a chair in the kitchen, trying hard not to think about the fact that Remus was a staircase and a couple of doors away from you. It had been weeks since you’d seen him, and unfortunately, absence really did make the heart grow fonder. You fiddled with the spoon you’d used for your tea nearly an hour ago, waiting for Sirius to return. So, it felt extra foolish when your heart began racing as you heard someone enter the kitchen, only to find Sirius giving you a small smile.

“Oh. Hey.”

He quirked a brow. “Wow. What a warm welcome that was.”

You let out a short laugh. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I get it. Tall, dark, and moody’s more your thing,” he teased, sitting next to you. “He’ll be at the meeting today.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

You shrugged. “I mean… what else am I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know,” he shook his head. “I just hate seeing you upset like this. Thought it might cheer you up to see him.”

“What, you think I’ll be all fluttery and excited for him to ignore me all evening?”

“Snippy.”

You sighed. “He doesn’t… He avoids me at all costs, now, Siri. I should’ve just kept my mouth shut.”

“No. You were in the right. He’s just a big baby who can’t handle his emotions.”

“Mm.”

“Hey,” he said softly, waiting for you to look at him. “He does love you.”

“Not enough.”

“But one day–”

“It shouldn’t be an if-and-when, Sirius. The world is literally falling apart and he still refuses to be with me. What else would possibly compel him?”

He swallowed, looking a little more somber as his eyes darted down to the counter. “I don’t know, Sunshine. But you both deserve to be happy.”

“Tell that to him.”

“I’ve tried. He’s a stubborn fucker.”

You laughed a bit at that. “He is.”

“You love it about him, though, don’t you? Head over heels for some raggedy, old mule.”

“Hot, raggedy, old mule, to be fair.”

“Gross,” he laughed.

“But… no. I really don’t love that bit about him. I wish it would catch on fire and disintegrate.”

“Come on, but then he wouldn’t be Mooney.”

“But he’d love me.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but came up short, merely pulling you into his side in a hug. You let him hold you, leaning into him. As if on cue, though, Dumpling came strolling in, his chubby little body bumping against your feet, heading straight for his favorite uncle.

“He’s obsessed with you,” you said, watching as Sirius picked him up.

“Who wouldn’t be?” He winked, that cheeky smirk of his shining through as he kissed Dumpling’s soft forehead. “Horrible little beast. Quite the attention hog.”

“Two peas in a pod.”

He chuckled, cradling the cat as Dumpling purred away. You reached over, petting the little traitor as he snuggled up happily to Sirius. You hadn’t even registered that anyone had come into the kitchen until you heard a voice that had you jumping out of your skin from one small word.

“Oh,” Remus muttered softly, freezing up as he looked between you and Sirius. Though he never quite met your eye. “Sorry. Just came for some tea before the meeting.”

“There’s a kettle on the stove. Probably just needs to be heated again,” Sirius responded.

“Right,” Remus nodded, walking quickly to the stove.

Your eyes followed him the whole way, that familiar warm feeling still blooming in your chest as it always did when he was around.

“I brought a new flavor. Vanilla Caramel,” you blurted out. “If you want some. It’s sweet.”

Remus nodded, not turning around. “Okay.”

You chewed your lip, watching him carefully. You wanted to go over there and kiss him silly again. You also wanted to slap him. But mostly, you just wanted him to look at you.

“I made Sirius go for some cream, too.”

“Right.”

“Your favorite mug is in the cupboard.”

He only nodded that time.

You huffed out a breath, looking to Sirius for help, though he was too preoccupied petting your cat. You looked at Remus again, still standing like stone in front of the stove. You suddenly stood, going to the cupboard to get his mug. You brought it to the counter you were sitting at, setting it right in the center. You then went to get the cream and sugar, leaving them next to the mug. Finally, you reached for the tea, putting a bag in his mug before you sat down again. If he wouldn’t look at you, you could at least get him to face you.

“Why’d you do that?” Sirius asked, a little bewildered at your behavior.

“Thought it would be easier for Remus to prepare his tea if it was all set out.”

Sirius raised a brow at you, then glanced at Remus who was just turning off the whistling kettle.

“Well… Dumpling and I will be… somewhere,” Sirius nodded once, a tiny smirk in your direction as he stood, walking out of the room with the cat.

Remus finally turned, pouring the steaming water into the mug. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know.”

He was quiet, filling the mug and then letting it sit for a moment as the tea leaves steeped.

You watched him for a second. “You’ve been missing meetings.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“With who?”

He huffed a sigh in frustration. “Nobody. You know that.”

“You’re acting like you have something to hide. How am I supposed to know?”

“You should know because I…” he shook his head, cutting himself off. “I’m not seeing anybody. I’m not even talking to anyone except for Sirius.”

“Hm,” you nodded slowly, then looked back at him, studying his face as he looked into the cup. “I’ve missed you.”

“Please don’t start.”

“You’re being a dick. We were friends first, you know? I’m allowed to miss you.”

He finally looked at you, feeling his chest compress when he met your eyes. He wanted to snark back. He wanted to push you away. Despite the guilt he felt, he didn’t want to hurt you even more. But his pull to you felt just as magnetic as ever.

“How do you not hate me?”

“Probably because I love you.”

He shook his head. “Don’t say that.”

“Quit trying to tell me what to do,” you shot back. “Trust me, if I could stop, I would.”

He frowned, looking back at his cup of tea, wishing he could drown in it. His jaw clenched, his head shaking softly again.

“Darling…”

“You said you didn’t want me,” you uttered quietly.

“No, I didn’t.”

“You may as well have.”

“I don’t want to lose you. There’s a difference.”

“That’s fucking ridiculous, and you know it.”

He sighed. “How? You’re… you’re everything. You’re brilliant and beautiful and kind and… and I don’t deserve someone like you.”

“Why do you have to insist on–” you stop, groaning in annoyance. “I can’t keep arguing about this. Why can’t you just trust me?”

“It’s not you I don’t trust. It’s myself.”

“You’re so dramatic,” I roll my eyes.

“No, I’m not. I’m being–”

“Sirius told me about you breaking his lamp. That’s drama.”

His cheeks went pink. “I only did that because you stormed out on me!”

“Yeah, because you all but told me you would never be with me!”

“I told you I loved you!”

“No, you didn’t. I said you didn’t and you said ‘I do’. That’s not the same thing as saying the words.”

“Well, I… I…”

You stared at him, waiting for him to continue. He blinked, staring at you with wide eyes.

“I love you.”

You all but gasped with the breath you sucked in, your stomach fluttering as his eyes were still glued to yours.

“Remus…”

“The meeting is starting soon,” he said, abandoning his tea on the counter as he started to move towards the door of the kitchen.

“Please don't do this again,” you begged, grabbing his arm. ��Please. Stop running.”

“Baby, I can’t look at you without wanting you in every way possible. Please don’t make this harder for me.”

“You just said you love me. Just let me believe that’s true.”

He shook his head, turning to you fully. “It is true.”

“Why are you trying to leave again, then? Stop doing that to me.”

“I– I already told you. I can’t lose you.”

“The only way you’ll lose me is by pushing me away like this,” you said, voice raised in frustration. “We already did this once, Remus, and then you avoided me for a month. Don’t do that again.”

“You don’t understand what this is for me–”

“Then make me understand.”

He let out a shaky breath, his eyes drawing all over your face for a few moments as you waited with baited breath for him to say anything. He went over every possible response in his head, but only one won out.

You shuddered a breath against him as his lips suddenly met yours in a kiss that was far more hungry than the one you’d shared last time you were together. His arms went around your waist, pulling you tightly into his chest, his grip possessive and needy. His tongue pushed into your mouth, leaving you whining softly, your hands in his hair.

“Don’t ever tell me I don’t love you,” he muttered against your lips as he broke away for a moment. “Or that I don’t want you. I want you more than anything.”

“Then have me,” you whispered back.

He stared at you, his eyes hooded and focused in on your lips. Though, you were both taken out of it as you heard Dumbledore’s muffled voice calling the Order meeting to start.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, head dropping against his shoulder.

He took a few deep breaths, stroking your hair softly. “We should go.”

“I know.”

“We can… We can talk about this later…”

You looked up at him. “You have to promise you won’t run again. Actually listen to me this time. I don’t want to argue.”

“Baby.” He frowned a little.

“Please, Remus. You can’t kiss me like that and expect me to be content with friendship.”

“I–”

“Just promise you’ll listen this time.”

“O-okay. Okay, fine,” he nodded. “Promise.”

You stared for another few seconds before nodding as well. You then broke away, intending on going to the meeting, though not before he grabbed your arm, pulling you into one more kiss. His lips moved against yours softly, but certainly not lacking passion. It only lasted for fifteen seconds before he pulled away again.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay, we can go now.”

You nodded, hoping you’d be able to pull yourself together enough to not be a flustered mess through the meeting. Though, you were certain by Sirius’s shit-eating grin when you’d both walked in that he knew within milliseconds. The bastard.

The meeting felt excruciatingly long, your gaze frequently being drawn to Remus who looked as calm and cool as ever. Also a bastard.

It wasn’t until you were back at Remus’s home, however, that you really started feeling the nerves kick in. You were in the living room, in the spot you’d always sit in, waiting for him to bring the tea. You stared hard at the coasters on the coffee table that hadn’t moved since the first time you’d ever been in the room. Now, though, you felt compelled as you leaned forward, pushing them a little closer together.

He came out a few minutes later, glancing down at the coasters, noticing their new position. He smiled a little to himself, though didn’t say anything as he sat down the mugs of tea. But this time, instead of sitting with you, he went to get a book from his shelf. You watched curiously as he browsed, searching seemingly for a specific book.

“What are you looking for?”

“Hold on.”

You chuckled softly. “Pardon me for the impatience.”

He shook his head, the ghost of a smile on his lips. He finally pulled out a book. “Ah.”

“Which one is that?” you asked as he came to sit next to you, closer than usual.

He flipped through the pages, looking for one in particular.

“Here it is,” he said at last, showing the page to you. “Do you remember this?”

You nodded. “Of course I do. It's the first thing I ever read to you here.”

“It is.” He nodded, reading over it. “I… This line, here. The underlined one…”

“‘If equal affection cannot be, let the more loving one be me’,” you read from the book.

“If you can believe it… I was convinced I loved you then. I was sure you’d never feel the same. And then… Then I found out you did. It terrifies me.”

“It terrifies you that I love you?”

He nodded, looking directly at you. “You’re too good for me. You have to know that.”

“Stop saying that.”

“It’s true.”

“No, it’s not.”

“It is,” he replied softly, bringing a hand up to your cheek. “It is true. And you can believe it isn’t all you want, but–”

“Stop. Please.”

“You need to understand.”

“I understand that you think you’re some kind of monster. I understand that you’re scared. What you need to understand is that I don’t care about any of that,” you say softly. “Remus… You’re right that it would be hard to be together sometimes, with everything going on. I could go be with someone who’d be easier to be with, but I don’t want anybody else. Hell, I worked day and night just to develop a potion because I knew it would help you.”

“Why are you so insistent on being with me?”

“Because you’re everything to me.”

He let out a soft breath. “You’re foolish.”

“And you’re a little bitch sometimes, but I love you anyways,” you tease, reaching up to hold his wrist as his hand stayed on your cheek.

He scoffed a laugh. “You’ve been spending too much time with Sirius.”

“You were ignoring me for weeks. I had to hang out with someone.”

His smile faded. “I thought you hated me.”

“I could never.”

He took in a breath. “If… If you want this… like, really want this with me… you have to know that I can’t give you a peaceful life.”

“But will you love me?”

“Of course.”

“That’s enough.”

He swallowed down a lump in this throat. “It’s not always enough to just have love.”

“It will be, though. You’re kind, loyal, smart. Not to mention handsome,” you smile a little, as does he, his cheeks a little pink. “Whatever comes with being with you… I want it. All of it.”

“You don’t–”

“You all but told me you wouldn’t be with me, and you were still all I could think of after the fact. You have me already, Remus. You know that. I’m not going to shy away now.”

“You have me, too. In an iron grip, apparently.”

You laugh a little. “I don’t care what goes wrong. There’s far too much that’s right, and no matter how foolish you think that is, I think you’re ten times more dumb for trying to ignore that.”

He shook his head. “I… absolutely adore you.”

“Is that you saying you want this?”

“It’s me saying that you’ve somehow changed my mind. I think you’ve hexed me.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

He smiled. “Can’t help it. Most beautiful woman in the world is in front of me, you can’t expect me to be thinking clearly.”

You leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He kissed back, just as gently, resting both of his hands on your cheeks.

“You moved the coasters closer,” he whispered.

“I did.”

“The tea is still hot.”

“It is,” you replied, raising a brow.

He sucked in a breath, eyes falling down and over your form. “So… we have some time before it cools off.”

The faintest smirk crept onto your face. “We do.”

Sunlight streamed in the room at sunrise, falling on two full, cold cups of tea, matching coasters, and a still-open book.

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin angst #remus lupin series #remus lupin #marauders era #marauders x reader #marauders #luna still hates jk

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0gata · 2 months ago

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My skills could not draw this idea properly 💀

Either way, here's my first finished full body drawing in years yayayay

#i dont plan on posting much oc lore but #for context this was after she went through a lot of physical therapy her her arm #so this is her first time getting back to her research ^^ (and ofc greed wont let her focus)#he's just happy she can use both of her arms again :')#fullmetal alchemist #fma #fma greed #fullmetal alchemist greed #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fmab #greed the avaricious #cats of tumblr #my art #Idk how to tag #oc x canon #original character

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d1stalker · 4 months ago

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Collateral Damage [Logan Howlett]

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

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

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

----

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

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

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

Then, out of nowhere, the ground trembles.

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

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

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

Until they show up.

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

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

Maybe they can stop this!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Happy birthday to me, I guess.

—

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

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

The X-Men.

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

Storm. Cyclops. Wolverine. Jean Grey.

Mutants with powers like gods.

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then it hits you.

Oh, no way.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No one hears you, or even acknowledges you.

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

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

This is absurd!

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

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

Boom.

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

Your heart sinks.

They blew it up.

—

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

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

You chuckle, already anticipating the joke, when—

BAM!

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

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

Great, just great.

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

Cyclops.

Are you fucking serious?!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, there goes the last of your patience.

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

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

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

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

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

Silence falls.

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

“Woah, bub—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

You don’t get it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

Knock. Knock.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still, he’s faster.

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

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

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

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

“Can’t control it, bub,” he shrugs.

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

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

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

“You’re not safe here.”

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

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

You falter. “What are you talking about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That stops you in your tracks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They’re fine without me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That does it.

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

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

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

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

Both out of sight, he finally releases you.

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

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

“Follow you where?” you ask.

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

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

—

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

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

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

I can’t keep this up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It exists solely to hunt you down.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

He was right. You were just getting started.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s too beautiful to ignore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cute, you think absentmindedly, then pause.

What the fuck?

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

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

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

Yup. That’s it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

– L

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s messing with you on purpose.

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

“Great,” you mutter. “More bad news.”

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

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

He smirks. “You’re gonna need it.”

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

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

—

“So, how can they be stopped?”

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

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

“I gathered that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You want me to be a part of it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sighing, “I’ll think about it.”

—

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

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

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

“How’d it go?” he asks gruffly.

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

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

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

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

He hums softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You quirk a brow. “Then what changed?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So what do I do now?”

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

“Hey, bub.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The city? What city?”

“New York.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can't accept that," you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me?” You blink, caught off guard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where did that come from?

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t brood,” you glare.

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

“You wouldn’t.”

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up, Summers,”

“Shut up, One-Eye”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perfect for each other? Yeah, right.

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

You’re screwed.

—

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

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

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

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

You freeze. Who could possibly—

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

Goddamn it. It's always him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And something strikes you—they’re doing it.

They’re minimizing the damage.

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

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

He kept his promise.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

— —

—

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

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

— —

You snap.

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

Weak? Liability?

No. Not this time.

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

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

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

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

But you don’t stop. You can’t stop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They’re okay. It’s over.

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

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

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

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

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

“I could kiss you right now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey!”

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

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

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

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

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

—

“So… are we gonna talk about it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Where you goin'?" he rumbles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That gets him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The sound it elicits from you is lethal.

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

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

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

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

Your mind goes blank.

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

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

And you do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----

A/N: feedback is greatly appreciated!

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