#maybe get over it?? grow up?? just block them if its that big of an issue??

[fun-k-boards]

M'LORD M'LORD PEOPLE ARE ASSUMING THE HUMAN EXPERIENCE REVOLVES AROUND SEX AGAIN

[beeseverywhen]

Been reading about underground bins in Liverpool and also how now they don't need the alleys for bins in some places they've cleaned them up and put like plants and seating in them so they can sit with their neighbours and wow I'm having intense feelings of envy. I don't know what I want more, underground bins or a clean alley lol

[d1stalker]

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.”

— —

"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.”

—

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!

[pupkashi]

I LOVE OCTOBER !!!!!!

masterlist

“oh my god” your eyes wide, out of shock? terror? excitement?

“i know right!” satoru grins, “i saw it and i just had to get it” he takes your hand and pulls you out the front door and onto the porch.

“you just had to get a pumpkin the size of a small country?” the giant vegetable placed on the porch steps, intimidating you with its sheer size. “how much does this thing even weigh?” you were absolutely gobsmacked, “where the hell did you even get this!”

satoru was waiting for you to ask, “i bought it from a 12 year old girl!” his eyes were sparkling as you stared at him in confusion. “her and her dad were gonna go to put it in a competition but then i asked them if i could buy it off them and they said yes.”

even before you asked, you knew the answer to your question, “how much did you pay them?” satoru’s face flushed and he looked away from you, hesitating and trying to find a way to change the topic.

“i was thinking maybe we make a giant jack-o-lantern, feed the birds the seeds-”

“satoru, how much” his body tenses up and he turns to face you with big blue eyes and a pout.

“only 15!” he defends, “she was really proud of it and i couldn’t let it go rot in some fair!”

“15 what” you press, a smile fighting its way onto your lips as you stared up at your lover.

“thousand” he sighs, shoulders slumping as he leans against his expensive pumpkin. he knows you aren’t really upset with him, you’d never tell him how to spend his money no matter how stupid he is.

“dear god” you laugh, giving up on trying to fight the smile and instead leaning against the large pumpkin next to satoru. “this thing is huge” you comment. satoru is practically vibrating with happiness at your words.

“isn’t it? gonna be kinda sad when we ship it off to the zoo” he sighs. he can feel your gaze on his face, completely confused with what he was talking about. “well we can only use so much pumpkin before we’re flooded in it” he shrugs, “figured we can ship whatever we don’t want to the zoo and they can give it to the animals there!”

satoru always had a big heart, especially for animals. you nod happily in agreement, “i like that idea toru” you hum, both of you now facing the giant pumpkin.

“now how are you and i going to carve this pumpkin all alone?” you ask, a mischievous grin on your face as satoru brimmed with excitement at your insinuation.

“I’ll call the kids over!” the white haired sorcerer is gone before you can say anything else, gone to drag the three first years from their dorms and to your front steps.

you take the time to sit on the swing on your porch, view blocked by the orange pumpkin. it makes you smile, as silly as satoru was, you knew his heart was in the right place. and as the five of you work at pumpkin with the autumn breeze surrounding you all, your heart grows warmer. you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[httpsobi]

YOU...YOU CAN DO THAT? “a spider-reader x team"

WARNINGS/TAGS + sfw, they/them (gender neutral) reader addressed as spider cause if you can't tell i'm very creative, inspired by miles morales spiderman cause hes my fav, no beta we die like aunts and uncles in spiderman movies/comics, canon-typical violence (not heavily detailed).

A/N + to the anon who requested this nearly a year ago, i'm so sorry pookie the writer block put me in a author coma of sorts. despite this being a year late and trash, i hope you enjoy regardless, and i'm hoping to get more active with my writing again! enjoyyyyyy!

REQUEST + "Oops here I am again (the same anon who requested a reader with spider like abilities).. I forgot to specify 😭 but like maybe could you do idk a first meeting between the YJ and the reader (they/them btw)? Would they be creeped out with the readers' abilities or would it go like 'oh wooooow. Show us how it works!'?"

KF & AQ "Kid!" Kid Flash turns to Spider as he sprints across the buildings adjacent to them. They struggle to match his pace, but as he slows to stick his landing, they manage to catch up and yell at a simple instruction that nearly has him freezing in his tracks out of horror.

"Jump!"

"What?" They flinch at the loud screech that pierces through their earpiece. "No way- are you crazy?!"

"Just-"

Their eyes widen as they watch the monster they've been trying to lead away from the populated city centre leaps into the air behind him.

"-do it!"

Kid Flash hesitates for a moment, they can see it on his face, ready to ignore their request when the creature lets out a rumbling roar.

The ground shakes under his feet as the monstrous thing lands on the building behind him and his face drops into a comical expression.

He spares it a glance over his shoulder, and with its claws reaching out from him, he takes the leap, narrowly avoiding the sharp nails, but as he flails around in the air, weightless, he wonders-

does he really prefer concrete over nails?

He shuts his eyes, readying himself from an impact that- never comes. Rather, there's something sticking to his stomach before he's being yanked to the side, and then- up.

Instead of the smack of concrete, he hits a person, their arms wrapped around him as they roll both of them through the force.

Kid Flash, finally, shoots up and opens his eyes.

Spider and Kid Flash are sat on their asses with matching shellshocked looks, staring down at the building across of them, where that beast shares a similarly confused look as it watches the street below them.

The two turn to blink at each other, shuffling to their feet as they let out joyous cheers that sound almost like screams (poor Kaldur's ears can testify), arms wrapped around each other as they jump with like two middle aged men who's football team just scored the final point.

"Dude, we did that!"

"Right?! I thought I was gonna fall to my death but then you just-!"

"I didn't even know how I did that! It was sheer animal instinct-"

Needless to say, Kaldur was less than happy, and no more "jumping-off-the-building-and-praying" was permitted or attempted. 

Not around Kaldur anyway.

ART & SUP Superboy fails to punch through it, the cage simply folding and stretching around his fist before it pushes him, his shoulder bumping into Artemis'.

"Are we stuck in here until Robin gets back?" Artemis asks with a irritated sigh, turning to look at Spider.

They seem mystified, a mischievous glint in their eyes that she can make out through the big cartoonish eyes of the mask as they take in the strange cage.

Their hands press against the cage, palm flat as they give it a little experimental shove before she can make out their eyebrows rising.

Their palms start to spark, and the red hue of the cage begins to light up a pale blue, "Nope."

The crackles of electricity grow louder and Artemis and Superboy step back just as an awful cracking sounds and-

The cage bursts around them, Spider's sent flying back into Artemis, who's then sent back into Superboy and the three hit the floor with matching grunts.

There's a moment of silence, before Artemis is shoving Spider off of her and rolling off of Superboy herself. As the three sit themselves up slowly, Artemis can make out Spider nodding to themselves with what she thinks is pride.

"I didn't know you could do that." Superboy comments plainly as the three slowly get back to their feet.

Blinking at him, Spider wiggles their fingers at him with a smile.

"Me neither."

MG & ROB With a grunt, Robin sits up with a grimace, hand on his head as his eyes readjusts when he manages to make out Bane stood just in his eye-line.

Bane isn't looking at him though, instead the man's eyes are trained on Miss Martian floating in the air, hands outstretched out in front of her.

She's clearly too busy managing her telekinesis to notice the hulking man anger as he grabs onto one of the many large pieces of machinery lying around the abandoned factory and prepares to ambush her. 

Miss Martian, watch out!

Robin's voice rings out in her head, and M'gann whips around, eyes landing on Bane.

Before either of them can react, something is suddenly flying through the air and with a loud thwack- Bane is lying on the floor, looking a lot less angry and unconscious. Now up on his feet, Robin slowly approaches Bane, M'gann landing on his side as the pair blink down at whatever hit him.

Upon inspection, it's the barrel tank that those cement trucks carry. Empty, sure, but Robin's not surprised that guy was put to bed.

What's more surprising?

"Woooo, my aim's getting good, no?" Spider grins, bouncing on their feet as they approach the two.

"You... you threw that?" Miss Martian asks carefully.

"Duh, who else?"

"Oh. Well, thank you." She offers, a little dumbfounded but Spider doesn't seem to notice.

"How?" Spider blinks at Robin, who's been silently gawking at them as they approach.

"What do you mean, 'how'? I just threw it. "

Robin sputters at them, left eye twitching under his mask as he watches them stretch their arms out over their head with no care in the world.

"That's not- that's impossible?"

"Nuh, uh! Just grab, do a couple spins to get some speed and let go- works pretty well."

"I don't believe you."

"Why not?! I'm plenty strong!"

Safe to say that Robin made them perform a couple of strength tests when they got back to the cave, and now Robin's worried Spider might not be aware of the fact that most people can't just throw around cement trucks.

all work n' writing is work of @httpsobi. i ask you please do not copy, rewrite, translate or post on other platforms without my consent.

[strwberryblast]

𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐈𝐀𝐒𝐂𝐎 | Zuko x GN!Reader

•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•••·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•••·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·••

You’d never imagined that a night of homemade cooking with Zuko could be so chaotic. When he insisted on preparing a meal himself, with his firebending skills as his secret ingredient, you were intrigued but also a little wary. Now, as you step into the kitchen, you’re greeted by a scene straight out of a disaster movie: flour dust clouds the air, smoke billows from the pan, and Zuko, looking both determined and slightly panicked, is attempting to juggle ingredients that seem more eager to escape than cooperate. His usual composed demeanor is replaced with a mix of frustration and sheepishness, and you can’t help but stifle a laugh as he throws another batch of flour into the air with an exasperated sigh.

“Zuko, you’re a mess,” you chuckle, a playful grin spreading across your face. He jumps, turning his body towards you with a startled look, his face flushing red. “Oh, hi [Name]...” he says sheepishly, shuffling his body so he’s awkwardly blocking the oven with his form.

You laugh again, finding his flustered reaction endearing. “You know, the mess is all over the walls and not just on the oven, you big dummy.”

His embarrassment only grows as he glances around at the flour-splattered kitchen and the streaks of smoke marking the walls. He looks back at you, a mix of exasperation and amusement in his eyes. “I guess I underestimated how tricky cooking could be,” he admits with a sheepish smile.

"I was trying to surprise you with dinner," he sighs, his body slumping over in defeat, you can't help but melt a little at your boyfriends words.

“I don’t know, your cooking skills seem to be on fire—literally,” you tease, stepping closer to him. As you peer around him, you see the pan on the stove, its contents reduced to a charred mess. You can’t help but chuckle at the sight.

“Here, let me help you,” you offer, giving him a sympathetic smile. Zuko, pouting like a scolded child, looks back at you with a mix of disappointment and frustration.

“But it was supposed to be a surprise for you,” he huffs, his cheeks still flushed from embarrassment. “I wanted it to be perfect.”

You stifle a laugh, touched by his effort and determination. “Well, I appreciate the thought, but it looks like you could use a hand. Let’s see if we can salvage this, alright?”

Zuko’s frown softens, and he nods, clearly relieved to have your support. “Thanks. I guess I got a bit carried away with the firebending.”

You walk over to the stove, carefully adjusting the heat and inspecting the pan. “Maybe just a little,” you say, with a playful look in your eye.

Zuko admires you as you begin to work. You pull out a few ingredients from the pantry, and with a practiced hand, you start to salvage what’s left of the meal. You quickly begin to scrape away the burnt bits and try to make sense of the charred remains.

“I’m going to need to add some fresh ingredients,” you say, glancing at Zuko. “Do you have any more vegetables or spices you were planning to use?”

He nods excitedly, as he goes to the fridge pulling out a couple of vegetables and herbs. "Can you cut them up for me, please?" You ask, glancing over at your boyfriend whose eagerly nodding, happy to help, causing you to smile.

With you help you guys finish up the meal, the kitchen still a disaster, but the food smelt better then before. You set the table, getting ready to eat.

You and Zuko sit across from each other, both eager to taste the meal you’ve managed to salvage. With a shared look of anticipation, you each take a bite of the food. As you chew, you notice Zuko’s face light up with pride, a smug grin spreading across his features as if he were the mastermind behind the meal.

You can’t help but tease him. “Get that smug look off your face, Zuko. I was the one who did most of the work!”

Zuko laughs, “oh, come on. I may have messed up the cooking, but I was still part of the team, right?” He takes another bite, savoring the taste. “Besides, I think I contributed a fair bit of help.”

"Yeah cutting the vegetables was a lot of help. Also you're doing the dishes," you say, a smirk on your face.

He leans forward over the table, his eyebrows furrowed a pout on his face "Seriously? I barely got the chance to enjoy the meal, and now I’m stuck with cleanup duty??" he huffs.

You laugh, "maybe we can switch, you can handle the kitchen disaster and I'll do the dishes!" You jokingly suggest, he leans back in his chair playful smile on his face as he shakes his head, "no you're right, the dishes are fine."

After finally finishing the cleanup, both of you plop down on the couch, exhausted. You lean your head on his shoulder, yawning. “Next time we cook, we’ll do something that doesn’t involve setting things on fire,” you say.

He laughs softly, wrapping his arms around you pulling you in. “Deal.”

•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•••·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•••·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·••

@ikrivi

masterlist

request rules

[hazybisou]

❛ OH BABY, BABY ❜

🎧 🎸 every single little moment, every single little sunshine

summary - when walking the streets of Michigan, you never know what to expect. maybe that’s why y/n never expected for a little boy to literally run into her with his fine ass cute father behind him.

pairing - f!reader x single dad!quinn hughes

side note - dad quinn 😻😻 that’s all i got to say as of now. my mans so fine 😍😍 (this takes place during the summer so about right now)

✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫

the slight breeze blew through her hair as she hugged her zip up closer to her body and grabbing the hood, putting it on over her head slightly. y/n had decided the weather was warm but windy enough to go outside and take a walk and get some fresh air. she had the day off from her job as a social media photographer for the Detroit Tigers.

y/n loved her job. she knew the second she saw her sister take part in sports photography that’s what she wanted to do. she took an internship during her junior year at the University of Michigan and once she had graduated, she had applied for the job as one of the photographers for the Detroit Tigers. two days after her interview, she had gotten an email form the organization saying she had gotten the job. since then she had been working with the MLB organization.

the young woman had just turned the corner and made her way into a local park in Michigan. her hand made its way into her pocket and pulled her phone out. she grabbed her earphones out of the other and connected them to her phone before placing them in her ears. she quickly swiped and clicked on spotify before she began to hear the lyrics to ‘Stay Ready’ by Jhene Aiko as she slid her phone into her pocket once again.

the music seemed to block out the noises of the children’s laughter and giggling as they slid down the slide or swung on the swing, being pushed by their parents or siblings or other children. the noise of the cars passing by and their honking were muffled.

she began to think about her life here in Michigan and if she were to stay her the rest of her life. find the one, have kids, grow old. the idea seemed nice in her head but she knew things may never go her way as god had other plans for her.

y/n suddenly felt something hit her leg. she heard a little ‘oof’ and a thud and looked down to see a little boy with brown, wavy hair on the ground. she took her earphones out and placed them in her pocket where her phone was.

she kneeled down to the little boys height and helped him get up. “are you okay?” her eyes scanned his small figure to check for any injures.

“i sorry.” the little voice made her melt. she always had a soft spot for kids. “i didn’t mean to.”

y/n smiled. “i know you didn’t, it’s okay.” she looked around for his father or mother or anyone who might’ve known him. “where your mom?”

he shrugged.

“your dad?” she tried and the boy turned around and pointed towards the way he came from.

“he’s over there.” he told y/n and she looked behind him to see a man with a slight subtle and neatly styled hair looking around frantically.

he was cute.

“what’s your name?” she asked the little boy who looked up at her with big doe eyes.

“roan.” he stated proudly with a grin on his face. “what’s yours?”

her smile turned into a small laugh. “y/n.”

she saw the little boys hand extend. she placed her hand in his and he placed a quick kiss to it and let out a ‘mwah’ as he did so.

“aw how cute.” y/n cooed as she let out a small giggle.

roan leaned in forward. “daddy says when’s pretty girl is around, to kiss her hand when you meet her.” he explained. “you a pretty girl.”

“your dad seems like a wonderful person.”

roan nodded. “he is.”

she looked at him and finally wondered if his father had figured out he was over here with her. her question was answered when she heard the padding of feet get closer but slow down as they neared. she saw the legs of a person behind roan and looked up to find the man she saw earlier looking down at his son. he kneeled down to be eye level with roan.

“roan, i thought i told you to stay next to me.” the man scolded the little boy who looked up at the man while squinting his eyes at the sun.

“i sorry daddy. but i wanted to go play! you promised.” roan exclaimed with his arms up.

quinn shook his head. “don’t do that again, okay? you scared me.”

“ok.” roan whispered as he wrapped his arms around his dad. quinn took the little boy into his arms and y/n watched with adoration in her eyes as she stood up.

the pair pulled away and quinn stood up while roan went and stood by y/n’s side, grabbing her hand and holding it. “daddy i made a friend!” he exclaimed, excitement evident in his voice.

quinn looked down towards her. holy was she beautiful. her smile was warm and gave him a welcoming feeling. he never experienced that from anyone other than his own mother.

“hi, i’m y/n!” she held her hand out for quinn to shake with a smile on her face.

he took it in his own and shook it slightly. “quinn.” he let go of it and watched as she put it down. “it’s nice to meet you.”

“nice to meet you too.” she looked down at roan and shook their hands that were still held together . “roan here happened to run into me.”

“did he now?” quinn looked at the young boy who smiled sheepishly. “well i hope he said sorry.”

roan just nodded his head. “ i did. like you told me to.”

y/n laughed. “he was such a gentleman.” she looked at quinn. “roan’s a sweet boy.”

quinn’s eyes softened. “i’m guessing i raised him right if he was called a gentleman by a pretty lady like yourself.” the words left his mouth before he could even stop them. “i didn’t mean it like that, well like i did, but not like that. you’re very pretty-”

y/n let out a small chuckle. “it’s ok, i know what you meant.” she stood there for a second. “you’re pretty hot, you know that?”

quinn felt himself blush and turn red. “oh, um, thank you.” he looked down at his watch and his eyes widened as he noticed he would be late to dinner with his family if he didn’t leave now. “oh i am very sorry but we have to go and get ready.” quinn reached down and picked roan up before settled him on his hip. “do you think i can i get your number?”

“no, i’m sorry.”

quinn’s smiled faltered slightly. “oh it’s fine-”

“but can i get yours before i go?” y/n asked.

“oh, of course. uhh, can i-” y/n pulled her phone out and opened to her contacts before clicking on the add sign. quinn smiled and typed in his number. “here you go.”

“i’ll see you around then.” y/n said and she looked at roan. “bye roan! it was very nice meeting you.”

roan leaned forward in his fathers arm, wrapping his own arms around y/n and she did the same back, “bye bye!” he turned his head and placed a open mouthed kiss on her cheek with a loud ‘mwah’.

“cute kid.” y/n told quinn as she saved quinn’s number and put her phone away in her pocket. “bye quinn.”

“goodbye y/n.”

she turned around and began walking back to her apartment with quinn and roan on her mind. he was very attractive.

✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫

it was 10:13 pm and quinn has just put roan to sleep in his bed after coming back to the lake house from dinner with his family. he walked back quietly to his own room which next to roan’s and got into bed, pulling the sheets over his body. he grabbed his phone, in hopes he would get a text from a certain person. with no luck he sighed and put his phone on his nightstand, ready to drift off to sleep.

*ding*

*ding*

he grabbed his phone and saw an unknown number had sent him a text. he opened it and quickly saw who it was.

*** *** ****

though i forgot abt you or what?

roan’s daddy

just a little bit

y/n 💞

well goodnight quinn

send my love to roan

roan’s daddy

what abt me??!

y/n 💞

🫢🫢

maybe later

roan’s daddy

goodnight y/n

quinn turned off his phone and placed it where it was previously on his nightstand before he turned around and closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep with y/n on his mind.

✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫

turned out way better then expected. anywyas daddy quinn got me feeling some type of way. isn’t roan the sweetest little boy?? ☺️☺️💕💕 first post ever since my last one

[ghcstao3]

(part 1)

-

As more days pass, the job doesn’t get any less strange.

Johnny is still poring over Ghost’s hint, trying to figure out how it could be possible that all these varying pieces are from the same artist. Unless it was someone more contemporary, experimenting in art styles of different eras—

Which would make sense, if not for the paints and materials not available in the present day, their methodology in creation having been lost to time, or its dangers realized.

And the signature. Scribbled consistently on every one of the pieces in the exact same place, exact same handwriting, even when the initials of S and R shift from the Roman to Latin alphabet, and when the length of the name itself shrinks and grows.

About every theory that pops into Johnny’s head is easily dismissed for another that makes slightly more sense, until he reaches another road block in reasoning. It’s impossible, plain and simple.

But at the end of the day, Johnny has to shake his head of those sorts of thoughts anyway. Because he’s here for a job, not to speculate, even when it’s his current employer that’s planted this dilemma in his head.

Speaking of—Ghost hasn’t gotten any less weird himself, either. Or, perhaps enigmatic, Johnny should say.

He continues to pose questions to Johnny as he works, but at some point they begin to sound less like questions from the owner of the artwork—and more like questions from the artist, as if seeking feedback.

All Johnny can do is answer honestly. He’s gotten better at deciphering Ghost’s hums and huffs and grunts, but not to the extent of really understanding what he’s thinking. Which only serves to confuse Johnny further about the whole… arrangement.

It’s on the last day, while Johnny is finishing up the last piece, that Ghost asks him the strangest thing of all.

“Say you were… immortal,” Ghost begins slowly, sometime nearing the end of the day; the end of Johnny’s contract, “would you choose to make a mark on the world, or remain invisible?”

Johnny furrows his brow. “I’m not sure. I mean—really, unless you’re big and famous, you kind of remain invisible to most, anyway.”

Ghost shakes his head, seeming almost frustrated by his answer—which would be a first. “No, not like—like if you made art, would you choose to keep it hidden, or would you allow it to be shared?”

It’s the first time Johnny has ever heard Ghost seem unsure of himself. He’s never seen the man falter like this, wavering in this intimidating, indifferent persona he’s thus far created.

Johnny suspects that there’s more to this question than it simply being a hypothetical.

“Depends,” Johnny says. He blinks up at Ghost, staring undeterred into that intense gaze of his. Sometimes Johnny thinks Ghost expects him to be nervous in his employer’s presence. “If it’s something personal, then sure, I’d keep it to myself. But I think in creating art, there’s also times that you’d want to display it, so I would. Not necessarily to leave something behind, but… maybe to inspire someone else.”

Ghost considers this for a long while, eyes raking over Johnny’s face for who knows what. Maybe a discrepancy in his honesty.

Eventually, he breathes slow and deep as he squares back his shoulders. “Then I’ll ask this again:” He pauses. “What do you think happened to the artist?”

The corners of Johnny’s lips twitch upward, though a proper smile never appears.

“I think he’s giving himself away right about now,” Johnny decides. It hasn’t really clicked to him, of course, that Ghost might be immortal—but it’s a conclusion he can at least speak aloud.

Ghost squints his eyes, and Johnny is inclined to think that means there’s a smile hiding beneath his mask.

“Suppose I have,” Ghost admits. Almost sheepishly, he then asks, “Does that change your answer?”

Johnny shakes his head. “I still think these should be displayed, if you’re willing. They’re… they’re beautiful pieces, and… why should you hire me to restore them just to keep them in storage?”

Ghost shrugs, and there reappears that new uncertainty. “I wanted a second opinion.”

Johnny laughs, shaking his head again. “Next you’re going to tell me you destroyed these yourself just to get it.”

Ghost stares at him a long, silent moment after that. Johnny’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline with the very clear answer to that joke.

“…Ghost.”

“It’s Simon,” Ghost corrects. “And I may have… tampered… with them. Just a little.”

Johnny scoffs. “Ghost, Simon, whatever. Some of these materials have been lost to time! And you just… you just—“

A deep, rumbling laugh escapes Ghost—Simon—that has Johnny trailing off from the rant he’d just been ready to go on. Art history is so meaningful to him, and he has a living man who can attest to those times in front of him, and—

And Johnny was just insulting him.

He shrinks back as Simon’s laughing tapers off, and that cold look in his eyes is overtaken by something warm, something friendly.

“Those pieces never meant enough to me,” Simon finally says, something melancholy falling over his tone. “But… I do have one more that was actually ruined by time that I think… I think I’d trust you enough to fix.”

Johnny’s eyes widen, perking up at the suggestion. “Really?”

Simon nods. “I’ll pay you however much, I—“

“No need,” Johnny interrupts. “You’ve already paid me… far more than you needed to, for the rest. I’ll do it, on one condition.”

Simon cocks his head, silently willing Johnny on.

The smile threatening Johnny finally releases, spreading wide across his face.

“You let me ask questions,” Johnny says. “I have a few debates to settle.”

Simon hums. Something… approving.

Finally, he says with an air of humour, and something oddly akin to hope, “I’m sure that can be arranged.”

[kitsuga]

sea salt kisses. {Alex x Reader/Farmer}

Description:

A fic in which Alex gets hit by the realization train. 

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Tags: fluff, kissing, not betad, not edited, gender neutral reader, stardew valley x reader, stardew valley x farmer, alex x reader, alex (stardew valley) x reader, alex (stardew valley) x farmer, whatever tag tickles your fancy at this point

Word Count: 1,587

A/N: Written on: April 22, 2024 

Quick piece to get back into writing after i had another loooooooooong writers block so if its good, great! If its bad, too bad you read it anyway too late now cant take it back, haha, SLKJDFHLKSJD  

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── 

The sand was just warm enough to make him feel weightless, like he was floating on a cloud. Or was it the breeze that tickled his skin, lifting him up and carrying him away softly, gently? Maybe it was the way in which the sun's rays hit his face just right, embracing him like a familiar hug that made him feel like he could take on the skies.  

Or, really, it was the way his company made him feel—the way his heart fluttered and soared and carried him along with it. Alex snuck a look at the person at his side; their face up towards the sun, a smile on their face that could rival it. The sight brought on a smile of his own, warmth in his chest growing stronger than the summer sun.  

Yoba, how beautiful the sun made them look; the light surrounding them hugged them in just the right places, making them look almost ethereal. Well, any light did that to them, in Alex’s eyes. Maybe because they’d hung out for a good while now, he started to actually see them—maybe they’ve always been this beautiful, but he was so absorbed in himself that he couldn’t take notice. Here they sat, however, closer than ever and intertwined in places of his heart that he would have never expected. What was this feeling? 

“Hey Farmer, you’ve gotta move your big head; you’re blocking out the whole sun. How am I supposed to tan?” 

“Uh. Go find your own spot?”  

They were snarky, a faux pout on their lips as they finally turned to look at him. Farmer brought their arms up, waving them in the air and watching as their shadows covered the face of their lounging companion beside them. Alex grumbled, perching himself up with his arms out behind him to get some sun of his own. The Farmer’s laugh was a melody dancing around with the breeze, subconsciously pulling Alex in; he leaned over and bumped into them with his shoulder, playfully. 

“If I go find my own spot, I’ll miss the clown show.” 

“Woooooow.” They drug out the word, feigning hurt. “You’re so mean to me! Why do I even bother calling you my friend?” 

Alex smiled, closing his eyes and throwing his head back, soaking up the sun.  

“Yeah, well.” He laughed a bit to himself, speaking without thinking. “You could probably punch me in the face and I’d still want you, so say what you want.” 

Silence. It felt as though the world itself had stopped moving around him; the waves, the breeze, the Earth itself had stopped moving and froze in time. The air around them suddenly grew so tense it could be cut with a simple piece of paper at this point. Alex snapped his eyes open, whipping his head back up to look at them, completely bewildered. Farmer looked back at him just as shocked, eyes wide yet hiding any emotion from them. 

“What?” 

“What?” 

“Alex, huh?” 

“Huh?” 

There was no way that slipped out, right? What did he even mean by that—did he want them? Oh Yoba, he did, didn’t he? That’s what that feeling was—they weren’t simply just his best friend, they had grown far more than that when he wasn’t looking. Did he already ruin it before anything could have started? What about their friendship? He’d just ruined everything; why didn’t his brain work the right way—like others? Why did he have to have such a hard time watching his mouth!  

His panic was interrupted by Farmer’s voice, Alex’s face never relaxing from his shock and panic. 

“Alex? What did you mean by that?” 

“By what?” 

“By ‘I’d still want you’?” 

“Who said that?” 

“Alex.” 

His curt answers had no effect on the Farmer, nor did his attempts to play it off. He turned to look anywhere but them, but his eyes couldn’t stay in just one spot. His face started to heat up, and it wasn’t from the sun this time. His embarrassment crawled up his neck, burning his ears first; he went from biting his cheek, to scowling, to biting his cheek once again—back and forth—trying to think of something, anything, to get him out of the situation he found himself in. 

“Alex.” They said again, trying to lean into his line of sight as his eyes darted everywhere but on them. “Alex? What did you mean? Do you like me?” 

“Huh?” He started to comically move his head around to follow his line of sight now, trying to blatantly avoid their gaze. 

His eyes shot down to one of his hands that held himself up the second he felt the heat from their own cover it. He could feel as they leaned in, their body now taking up space in his own personal bubble; he could sense that their face had leaned in close to his, but he was far too nervous to look back at them—he kept his eyes on their hands. 

“Alex, do you like me?” They asked again, following up with a soft, feather-light kiss on his cheek bone without giving him a chance to answer. “Do you?”  

Another feather-light kiss, more on his cheek. Another one closer to the corner of his lip. Each peck of their lips left behind a burning mark and an electric shock all the way to his rapidly beating heart. Another. A soft whisper of ‘do you?’ once again by them against his lips, followed by a soft, gentle kiss.  

Their lips, the smell of them, their body heat—all far too fleeting. He turned to finally look at them as they pulled away and sat back up, their smile radiant. He used his other hand to rub at the back of his neck, trying (and failing) to calm himself down. His heart kept leaping out of his throat, out of his chest. His hands were shaking, he’d fall if he wasn’t careful. Alex kept trying to frown, to deny whatever he could and save face, but the corners of his lips had betrayed him as he kept smiling, no matter how hard he attempted to stop. Okay, so, maybe he did. Maybe he did like them a bit.  

“Yoba, you want me so bad.” They joked, trying to clear the air and help ease his embarrassment. 

“What.” His face fell deadpan, too stunned to respond. 

They laughed once again, a hearty one, that had them hunched over; he simply stared at them intensely, leaning into them to stare harder—though all it did was make them laugh even more, until they struggled to catch their breath. Once they did, they turned back to him, finding themselves face to face. They simply kept smiling at him, even as they wiped the tears from their eyes; he started to fail to hide his smile once again, now sharing a small chuckle with them. 

Alex leaned back on his hands again, tilting his head and taking in their entire self, a gentle smile on his lips and soft, loving look in his gaze. Yeah, he did want them, actually. He wasn’t sure why he kept denying it to himself before, but he really did want them—all of them, for the rest of his life, actually. Even if he tried to think of anything else, his brain had fried a bit-- replaying every moment he had experienced clammy hands, rapid heartbeats, or some sort of longing while in their presence; yeah, he did want them, more than he ever thought he would.  

He watched them lean in again, though he let his body do the talking this time. As they got closer, one of his hands moved up to cup their jaw gently, his heartbeat racing through his veins as they leaned into his touch. Alex wanted to leave his eyes open and look at them—how beautiful they were, how ethereal they must have been—but he allowed himself to simply keep them closed, blissfully melting into the feel of their lips interlocking with his own. The feel of their summer-stained lips and the taste of their salty chapstick had lingered as they slowly—reluctantly—pulled away, burning the sensations into his brain for longer than he’d ever know. 

They seemed to mirror him now; nervous, a little awkward, but hopelessly in some sort of love. Farmer looked away, trying to hide just how wide their smile had been now. Alex sat there a moment, trying to let his brain catch up. Oh, so that happened. Oh, so this was happening—with them. He blew air out of his nose, resembling a slight laugh at how dumbfounded he was.  

But, this was where he was meant to be. He hadn’t realized this before, but the world had only seemed to stop earlier because it was time for it to. Time isn’t lost if you’re where you’re meant to be, he believed, because it was time meant to be shared. He was exactly where he was meant to be—exactly who he was meant to be with. It simply took his empty, big ol’ head of his to accidentally spit out words without thinking to get him to realize this; everything made sense the moment the words left his lips—everything made sense the moment their lips touched his own.  

He turned their face back towards him, pulling them gently back down towards them with a large, goofy, happy grin. 

“Yeah, I think I do.” 

[muchmossymess]

GUYS okay hear me out majoras mask boat boys au

I love legend of zelda I love boat boys this is like the ultimate combination of my interests you cannot understand the brainrot. Idk what to call it yet tho... majoras minecraft? Anyway prepare for an essay

OKAY so we have the Hero of Time, Etho, who stopped ganons plans before they started, and would be stuck in a child's body if not for the fact I think that'd be a lil weird for the more shippy aspects of this au that all the running through time aged his soul and his body followed suit (he's still got a young appearance, and the mask doesn't make him look older like he thinks). Same reason he has the scar over his eye (from the ganon fight); no matter how much the body may heal or rewind the mind will not forget.

Then navi (maybe bdubs?) left him, and he went with epona (maybe bdubs instead? (eponas a horse iydk)) and he sets out on a journey aka the beginning of mm:

Wandering through the woods on epona, gets jumped by skull kid. For those unaware, there is skull kid, a lonely lil sweetheart, and he wears the mask, an entity on its own. He also has two fairies, siblings tael and tatl.

So I was a little unsure about this for a while, but I think I've decided on grian for the skull kid and Jimmy for tael, grian bc watchers and Jimmy bc skull kid is not very nice to tael (bc of the mask) and like a listeners reference or smth blah blah blah

TATL. that's who's interesting. At the beginning she gets separated from her friends and becomes your companion. So naturally for this au she is our favourite joel smallishbeans. It works so well. Tatl is mean but cares, and that's joels dynamic with the bad boys and with etho, guys it's literally perfect idc what you say

I think it doesn't change much throughout like the story of the game, but just taking dialogue tatl says to link and its so perfect for a sassy joel to a "can't believe I'm dealing with this shit again" etho. Uh one thing different though; in hylian form etho doesn't have an ocarina but instead a mini marimba. Just because. I think it's cool, and for potential things later on.

Now, fairies in this au are just tiny glowing people shaped things with wings. The glow around them is their magic, and depending on emotions/energy the brightness changes (thats why they look like flying balls of light). Some fairies have the ability to make projections of themselves, more hylian sized in nature. This can be intimidation or distraction or w/e, but they cant do it for long periods of time bc its exhausting. These forms aren't physical. Just sized up light projections of their actual bodies.

So for a lot of their journey, joel is just a cute pocket sized ball of rage and sarcasm, who helps with ethos aim for fighting. Bc that's a game mechanic and also ethos like half blind. But like when joel calms down imagine him crawling into ethos hat and just dozing off. He can fit in the palm of your hand like guys it's so cute. But he is also capable of being worse than a mozzie

Oh probably a good point to put in what I imagine etho looks like. So it's typical link green (maybe a bit dampened?), weird pointy hat, short hair (white ofc), his shirt is more of a jacket with a fluffy cold weather collar, it's a bit too big for him but he knows he'll grow into it, he's all knobbly and thin (underfed a lil, boy was never taught how to care for himself beyond basic survival). His injured eye is red bc of ganon, and often gives him phantom pains. It can't be healed.

Anyway, at some point in their journey together, etho and joel learn a song that let's fairies have a larger physical form, no wings, sorta like the great fairies (who they learnt it from prolly). It isn't permanent, slowly draining ethos magic meter, the spell ends when you run out of magic. This is because I want them to actually be able to stand side by side or maybe hug, and also bc its hard to block a blow with your body when ur tennis ball sized.

Aaaaand, this ties back in with with marimba. What if ethos injured, or unconscious, and he obviously can't defend himself, so joel panics and plays the marimba in what he hopes is the right order to give himself a body. I imagine that being that small, you could not play an ocarina. And hey maybe joel carries etho away after that, and when the spell ends he has barely any light emitting from himself because he spent nearly all his magic (what he is made of) saving etho.

But this song isn't used much, because of its draining nature, and you can't really do any other magic things while it's going. So it's mostly just in the final fight (over and over) or tough moments or maybe joel wants to experience something like hoe hylians do. It's obviously inferior to how he experiences things as a fairy, of course, he's just curious thats all. He totally doesn't want etho to do it more.

Okay I think ill sorta stop here, I am NOT done, I will probably post some art I've done for this later lol, and I want help with who everyone else is (mumbo is the moon. You cannot stop me nor change my mind) with mcyts to npcs

[cuddlepilefics]

Blood, sweat and tears - juneofdoom day24

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Seungmin

Caregivers: Stray Kids

Prompts: “Let’s get you cleaned up“ -> blankets, bandages

@juneofdoom

TW: blood

No one’s POV.:

The fifth hour of their group dance practice was nearing its end and the members were absolutely drained. This was nothing new to them, schedules always got busy the closer they got to a comeback and they were just about to release a new album. Seungmin couldn’t recall the last time he had felt this exhausted but tried not to let it show. They were all tired, so he had no right to whine about it. Minho had pointed out his sluggish dance moves multiple times, so the younger did his best to pull himself together. Maybe if his mind hadn’t been so foggy with fatigue, he would’ve memorized the steps faster and could now focus on their clean execution but he doubted it. No matter how much he tried to focus, his limbs refused to comply.

It was humiliating really, how many times Seungmin had already lost his balance. Maybe if he had gotten more sleep, he wouldn’t be feeling so off kilter but there hadn’t been any time. His vision was already beginning to fray around the edges, when Minho called for a break. Not trusting himself to take another step without falling, Seungmin let himself sink to the ground. His head pounded when he shifted his position to lay down but sitting up took too much effort, so he’d rather bear the headache. “You good?”, Changbin asked softly as he took a seat next to his dongsaeng. Seungmin only hummed, the sound less certain than he had intended. Uncapping the younger’s water bottle, Changbin instructed: “Sit up and have some water.” Giving the rapper a long look, Seungmin then closed his eyes and draped his arm over them to block the bright ceiling lights. He had absolutely no energy left and he wasn’t even all that thirsty.

When Seungmin realized that Changbin was watching him, he muttered: “Thanks for the water but I don’t wanna move right now. I’ll have some later.” – “Headache?”, the rapper hummed sympathetically. Seeing no point in lying, Seungmin admitted: “Yeah. It felt like pressure all day but now it started to thump and I just really don’t feel like moving.” He let out a slow breath when Changbin ran his fingers through his sweat damp hair. “You look wiped. Are you sure you can continue dancing?”, the older worried, catching Chan and Minho’s attention. Growing uncomfortable with the amount of attention, Seungmin sighed: “Yeah, of course. I always get these headaches when I’m tired, so this is a given every time we have a comeback. No big deal, please just let me be tired in peace.”

Though that wasn’t necessarily a satisfying reply, the members couldn’t really argue. Each of them had their individual comeback struggles that they always had to endure when they released something new. It was simply something that came with the job and that they were willing to bear for the sake of their careers. “Alright, we’ll stop bugging you”, Chan chuckled, “You can always sit out for a round or two though, no judgement. I’d rather have you take more frequent breaks than anyone getting hurt, okay?” Seungmin gave a nod and could only barely refrain from rolling his eyes. He didn’t need any extra breaks.

Seungmin let Changbin pull him to his feet and held to hold onto the rapper’s shoulder for a moment as his ears rang. Worriedly steadying the younger, Changbin hummed: “Are you sure, you’re okay?” Seungmin nodded, blinking rapidly to get the dark spots to clear. “That was just a little too fast”, he muttered, straightening up as soon as the dizziness improved. His friends were skeptical but knew that there wasn’t much that’d stop Seungmin from practicing when he had made up his mind, so they hoped to just wait for him to throw in the towel.

Unsurprisingly, that didn’t happen, despite the increasing pressure behind his temples and the loud pulse in his ears. It got a little difficult for Seungmin to hear the music at times but he tried not to let it on. He struggled not to get emotional with how exhausted he was but eventually, he focused more on holding it together and not worrying his friends than on the dance steps. During a change of positions, Seungmin’s foot caught on Minho’s, causing him to trip. He had so much momentum that he slid across the practice room floor. For a moment, he was just numb with surprise, too startled to feel anything at all. His head was still pounding from the impact of his fall but slowly, his left arm started to burn and so did his knees.

“Shit! Are you okay?”, Felix panicked as he knelt beside him. Nodding uncertainly, Seungmin sat up and held his head. Chan also rushed over, giving his dongsaeng a once-over, frowning: “Did you hit your head?” – “No”, Seungmin sniffled, the first tear spilling from his eye, “I didn’t hit it. The fall just made the headache worse.” Scanning his knees and arm to assess the damage, Seungmin’s chest hitched with a tired sob. His knees were red and raw with friction burns and the arm he had braced himself with, was skinned so deeply it bled. Not a small wound either but a spread out friction burn with little beads of blood seeping from multiple places. “You’re okay”, Felix comforted as he rubbed the other’s back.

Chan knelt next to them, examining Seungmin’s injuries while Jeongin had already hurried off to fetch the first aid kit. Minho supplied Seungmin with tissues and water, realizing that while his dongsaeng’s injuries weren’t severe in the slightest, they were still incredibly painful and definitely marked the end of his practice session. Catching a dribble of blood with a tissue, Chan lightly dabbed at Seungmin’s arm and winced sympathetically: “That was really the cherry on top, hm? Your day couldn’t have gone any better. Let’s get you cleaned up and some bandages on those burns, so we can take you home. You’re done practicing and we can all use some rest, so we don’t end up hurting ourselves too.”

Hyunjin carefully draped his sweatshirt around Seungmin’s shoulders, so he wouldn’t catch a chill now that he wasn’t physically active anymore. Still out of breath when he returned to the practice room, Jeongin handed Chan the first aid kit and the leader reached for some antiseptic spray and cleaned Seungmin’s arm, the boy letting out a pathetic whimper at the sting. Felix held him in a tight side-hug while Chan bandaged his arm and put cute Band-Aids on his knees. Still trembling a little, Seungmin had Minho and Changbin pull him to his feet and was grateful for their support when the dizziness returned. His quick breathing had left him even more lightheaded and all he really wanted was his bed, no matter how disgusting his practice clothes or the sweat and tears on his face felt.

“Come on, let hyung carry you”, Changbin whispered and crouched in front of Seungmin. He knew how much walking with skinned knees hurt and the younger already looked so exhausted. Giving a soft sniffle, Seungmin wrapped his arms around Changbin’s neck and let the older pick him up. He was too out of it to listen to his friends’ conversation and didn’t notice how Jisung, Felix and Jeongin headed out already. Minho packed everything up and handed Chan Seungmin’s bag, while the leader made arrangements with their management on the phone. Shouldering Changbin’s bag along with his own, Minho held the door open for his dongsaengs. He gave Seungmin’s back a light scratch, humming: “Chan is clearing our schedules for the day, citing safety concerns due to exhaustion, so all of us can get some rest. Hannie, Lixxie and Innie are getting take out for everyone and will meet us at our dorm. As soon as you got something in your stomach, I’ll fetch you painkillers for your head and then you can sleep, ‘kay Minnie?” The younger’s came out muffled against Changbin’s shoulder, which made his hyungs chuckle.

The way home passed in a blur for Seungmin, who eventually found himself in the bathroom. He sat slumped on the closed toilet lid and changing out of his sweaty practice clothes proved to be a painfully slow process but when Chan gently wiped his arms and back with a damp washcloth to help him freshen up without having to get his bandages wet, the effort was absolutely worth it. In a way, it was an advantage that they had taken so long to get him cleaned up because it kept him awake long enough for his friends to arrive with their food. They settled Seungmin on the couch, giving him enough space to ensure nobody would accidentally brush against his sore arm but Felix stayed just close enough to give the younger a shoulder to lean on.

“Now for the surprise!”, Jeongin beamed, catching Seungmin’s attention, whose eyes had already begun to droop again. Laughing, Jisung got up to accompany the maknae to the kitchen. When the two returned, they carried ice cream cups for everyone. Sensing the hesitation, Jisung determined: “Yes, we’re aware that it’s comeback season and that we need to watch our diets more closely around these times but we’ve had a stressful time and our souls need food to. Today’s an exception and if you insist on watching your food intake, go eat in front of a mirror.” – “I wasn’t even going to say anything”, Chan laughed as he accepted the treat he was handed.

A tired smiled played around Seungmin’s lips when he realized they had gotten his favorite and Jisung was absolutely right. This was soul-food and he really needed it after the day he had. With his energy being completely spent, eating something so cold inevitably left him chilled and eventually, Felix too picked up on the little shivers Seungmin tried so hard to suppress. Unable to get up with Seungmin resting against him, Felix shot Changbin a text, the rapper’s eyebrow quirking a little when he picked up his phone. Shooting the Aussie a quick smile, Changbin went to fulfil his request though, no questions asked. When Changbin returned with the fluffy blanket from Felix’ bed, the two carefully tucked it around Seungmin, who yawned as he cuddled closer to Felix.

They decided to watch a movie to relax for the rest of the afternoon but it only took twenty more minutes till Changbin ended up carrying the sleeping boy to bed.

[roseblog-rog]

She Actually Built a Shrink Ray…

(contains g/t mouthplay, g/t fearplay, and dubcon)

My best friend—Jamie—told me a while ago that she was working on a big project. After some prying from my end, she revealed it was going to be some sort of laser that would…do something with, like, atoms? And it would decrease them…I think? Maybe? When she started using science talk I kinda zoned out.

But she eventually dumbed it down for me, saying it would make whatever object it hits far smaller, which actually kinda made sense.

“So, a shrink ray? Like Honey, I Shrunk the Kids?”

“Yeah, something like that…but what the fuck are you talking about? Shrinking kids n’ shit??”

“WHAT??? YOU DON’T KNOW THAT MOVIE???? IT’S A CLASSIC!”

“Nah you made that shit up.”

For someone so smart she’s a complete dumbass. Or maybe it’s just not a popular movie…

Anyways, it’s not that I doubted her ability, per se, but I was highly skeptical about whether that was even possible. I mean sure, the idea of shit from Honey, I Shrunk the Kids being real was very intriguing…but could she do it?

That question was finally answered today when she sent me a text saying ‘HAZELLLLL COME OVER NOWWWW ITS SUPER DUPER IMPORTANT 😱😱😱’, and I arrived to her house only to be dragged to her lab where I found…well…a big laser. It really did look like something out of a movie, appearing very similar to Wayne Szalinski’s own creation.

This is where I am now: staring at the large machine, shock and some slight skepticism evident. “Is–is this…?”

“You bet your ass it is! Here lemme show you.” She ran over to a box containing several big red building blocks, taking one out and putting it on a stool where the laser was aimed. She then moved over to some sort of control panel and fiddled with some switches until the tip of the laser was glowing yellow.

I watched in awe; her genuine scientific prowess never ceases to amaze me. Still, I couldn’t help but make a remark. “Y’know, I honestly expected the beam to be red. Maybe some blue glow mixed in.” I smirk.

She glared at me playfully. “Well sooorryyyy it’s not exactly like your stupid obscure movie.”

We laughed as she finished activating the machine. She beckoned me to her side and we both watched as an actual laser was fired onto the building block, making it glow in a similar shade to the beam itself. My mouth then hung open in complete awe as I watched the once large block slowly shrink until it was about as big as a fingernail. She then turned off the machine, and we both went to look at the results. Sure enough, the block was intact, and I picked it up between my fingers to get a closer look.

Well holy fucking shit. The block was exactly the same aside from the now smaller size, and I could see Jamie grinning out of the corner of my eye.

“This is…this is, well, revolutionary.” I couldn’t believe she built this thing, still caught up in the shock of it all.

“Oh but thats not all! Put the block back on the stool.” She instructed, rushing back to the control panel. I could tell she was just as excited about this as I was, if her happy little bounces and giggles were any indication.

I placed the block back and returned to my position beside her, noticing the tip of the laser was now glowing purple instead of yellow. The process then repeated, only this time I watched the block grow back to its original size. Incredible.

“I still can’t believe you actually managed to pull this off…”

“You saying you doubted me?” She gave me another lighthearted glare. “Aaaaanyways, you ready?”

Ah. Right. Because I love and trust Jamie more than anyone, also seeing her capabilities firsthand, I volunteered to help test her machines as a human subject. Is there an ethical issue with this arrangement? Maybe, but it’s cool.

However…

While nothing bad has ever happened to me as a result of previous tests, Jamie has a tendency to…mess with me during the process. She knows her machines more than I do, therefore knowing exactly how to fuck with me. Like the time she built some sort of emotional amplifier, activating it whenever I laughed until I was quite literally pissing myself and breathless on the ground laughing. Or the time she built that stupid artificial spider drone—Jeffrey, the fucker—and kept making it crawl into my peripherals to scare the shit out of me.

I love her to death but she can be a real pain in the ass during tests, using my misery to fully test the capabilities of her machines. The sadist.

This time though…this time was different. I would be completely at her mercy, too tiny to do anything but accept whatever she does. It was…thrilling, honestly. Will it be scary? Probably. Will I get annoyed? Maybe.

But she wouldn’t hurt me.

“Yeah yeah okay whatever, let’s get this over with.” I sat down at the stool, and Jamie gave me a knowing smirk. I watched the laser—which was now pointed at me—start to glow yellow again, but despite the nerves I could never miss a joke opportunity.

“I am not missing the mall today.” I huffed and rolled my eyes, truly embodying my inner Amy. Jamie just stared at me with the most deadpan stare I’ve ever seen.

“I am so glad I finished building this so I don’t have to deal with your bullshit about this movie you’re so obsessed with.”

“Oh cmonnnnn. Youuuu loveeee meeeeee~” I taunted in my singsong voice. But at that moment she smiled and the machine was activated.

The feeling of the beam hitting me is…hard to describe. The best word I can think of is tingly. An almost soft and fuzzy sensation filled my body as I watched the world around me get bigger and bigger. It was one thing to see an object shrink, but a whole different experience to actually see the world grow while you get smaller. Tables grew taller, tools became gigantic, things that were once so close by slowly felt miles away. Even the stool I was sitting on transformed into more of an open landscape in my eyes.

After some time the world stopped warping around me, and I stood up to take in my surroundings. I was so familiar with Jamie’s lab, and yet it seemed like a completely new room from this perspective. I could notice cracks and rough edges around me with more clarity, notice particles of dust flying through beams of light. I glanced down from the stool and it felt like I was on top of a whole fucking mountain. This was absolutely insane, like h—

“Holy shit!” Jamie’s voice boomed through my ears, and I had to raise my hands to cover them from the vibrations that practically shook my whole body. My ears started ringing. A shadow now loomed over me, and looking up I could see Jamie towering above. From the look on her face, though barely legible due to the distance, she seemed to notice my more sensitive hearing.

“Oops, sorry Hazey.” Her voice fell to a calmer speaking tone, which no longer rattled my eardrums as I slowly lowered my hands. “I can’t believe that actually worked!”

I laugh, smirking. “Oh look who’s doubting herself now.”

She pauses for a moment, then speaks again. “I can barely hear you.” She chuckles. “That’s new.”

“Hey!” I pout, also noticing she’s cupped her hands. She lowers them down to the stool, and it looks like an offer to climb in. I accept, stepping onto her palm and balancing myself.

“Just don’t lift me up too—“ I feel her hands rocket up towards her face, and I fall over from the sheer force of it. Dark spots quickly faded in and out of my vision “…quickly.”

She chuckles softly. “Sorry about all this, you’d think I’d have thought about how to properly treat you with how much preparation I did.” I stood back up and met her eyes. They were huge, and I could really take in the rich shades of brown within her irises. “But speaking of you,” she left me standing on one hand while she moved the other to ruffle my hair with her pointer finger, “you are so fucking cute! You’re like a little speck on my hand!!”

I blush furiously, not used to being the short one. “Hey! I’m not that small!” Being in her hand I could see I was about the size of half her finger.

“Awwww poor wittwle thing~” She continued to coo and rub the top of my head. I hate the fact that it actually felt really good. Is this how she was gonna mess with me this time? Taunting me for being short?

“Stoppppp!” I whined through giggles, starting to melt at the contact but being unable to actually do anything about it. I already know my face is completely red. She knows me too fucking well.

Her finger starts to softly shove me around a bit, rubbing ever so often. I get a bit dizzy from the overwhelming tenderness of it all.

“Hehe! You’re such a fun little toy!”

That comment makes my mind and heart stutter, and I really start to take in just how powerless I am in this situation. I begin feeling a bit of wetness in my panties, but try to keep those thoughts at bay. As far as I know, Jamie isn’t interested in sex or anything of the sort. Besides, we’re friends. I’ll just enjoy the soft shoves and rubs and coos, that’s more than enough.

But then I notice that blush has crept onto her face as well, and she slowly smirks as her finger stops playing with me. She gently pinches the back of my shirt, lifting me up, and now I’m really helpless. I instinctively and slowly start to flail around to free myself from her grip, but to no avail.

I’m in front of her mouth now, and her lips are slightly parted. I can feel how heavy she’s breathing, warm air pushing out and brushing against my skin. Her breath smells nice, it’s honestly kind of soothing.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this. Sorry in advance.” With that being my only warning, she fully opens her mouth and sticks her tongue out. She’s salivating a lot, and the realization of what she’s doing dawns on me.

“Wait! Wait wait wait wait!” She drops me onto her tongue as I beg and squirm, but no matter how much I try to crawl off of her tongue I cannot get any sort of grip. I keep slipping and falling helplessly as her tongue snakes back into her mouth with me on it.

“No no no no no please! Jamie!” But it’s too late. I’m fully inside her mouth at this point, her tongue now flipping me over to hold me down against the bottom of her mouth. I try to push myself out, but she’s too strong. I feel tears start enter my eyes.

“I don’t mean to scare you. I swear I’m not like…eating you or something. I just…” She trails off, and her mouth fully closes.

I honestly never realized just how dark the mouth is when closed, because it’s open whenever I look into mine. But now I get the real experience. It’s dark. Very dark. The air around me is also very thick and humid, the warmth of her tongue and copious amounts of saliva contributing heavily. It also smells completely like Jamie’s breath in here—I mean, obviously—but overwhelmingly so. I can hear her breathe through her throat from my position under her tongue.

Her throat. Right.

Well, she said she wasn’t gonna eat me…but what the fuck is happening then? Is this just another scare prank? Is she secretly a cannibal and just lied to make me struggle less? I’m at a complete loss.

I feel her moving around now, hear her searching through drawers for something. The vibrations of her footsteps ripple through the mouth, bouncing me between her wet tongue and the floor. As scary as this is, the warmth is comfortable, and the moisture surrounding me is actually pretty arousing.

Fuck, I’m trapped in my now-giant friend’s mouth and all I can do is be a whore. Typical, honestly.

I try to move again but I’m still being held down, and suddenly I hear Jamie stop searching. A breath of relief moves up through her throat and out her lips, giving me a brief glimpse of light before it is snuffed out once again.

I’m not even scared anymore, honestly. I’m just bored. This sucks actually. If you’re gonna scare me like this at least up the stakes.

I feel her move around some more until she sits down on what is either a couch or her bed. Regardless, I felt the bounce.

“Jamieeeeee!” I try to yell out to her, hoping she hears me from in here. “What the fuck is going on?!” I need answers and if nothing else I can try to get them.

“Just—! Please let me have this.” I’ve never heard her like this before, voice so shaky and desperate. I feel some fear creep back in, but this time it’s for her rather than me. “I need you, Hazel.” I’m still confused until I hear the familiar buzz of a vibrator.

Oh.

Oh shit.

She…this…huh????? I can barely process what this actually means before I hear moans reverberating up from her throat, the pool of saliva around me starting to grow. I can feel her body start to shake with arousal, also starting to notice her tongue snaking back.

I’m able to stand up now, but it takes extra effort with how soaked I am in saliva. It’s heavy and slick, almost keeping me down. I can feel my clothes completely stuck to my body, making it very obvious that I’m hard. My heart rate and breathing are also picking up, both from shock and the resurgence of my arousal from before getting put in here.

Then her tongue leaps at me before I can react, pushing me against her gums repeatedly as I squirm to break free. It’s bigger than my entire body, each lick completely drenching me in more gooey spit. As much as I should be disgusted, this sensation is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. It’s so warm and wet and comfortable, sending tingles of pleasure from my crotch throughout my entire body. Her moans pick up with each lick as well, and I truly start to realize just what she meant when saying ‘I need you.’

Her tongue quickly gets more frantic and suggestive, lapping my entire lower body from my feet up to my crotch, and I already feel incredibly sensitive and brainless as the motions continue. I can’t help but join Jamie in moaning. Instinct overtaking me, I remove my clothes as best I can while being bombarded with wet sensations. I manage to get my shirt and bra off first, and Jamie quickly notices what I’m doing as she focuses her tongue movements towards my now exposed upper body instead. This makes her moan even louder, if that’s even possible at this point.

My pants come next, and this takes some effort given how wet and sticky they are, combined with the fact that I’m still being licked mercilessly against a giant row of teeth. When the pants are lowered enough to reveal my panties, Jamie moves her tongue back down to my crotch. With one less cloth barrier, the overwhelming sensations are too much to handle, and I orgasm. I can feel my panties grow even wetter despite how soaked they already are. Jamie stops for a moment, taking in the taste of my leakage as it drips down my thighs and into the pool of saliva below me. Her tongue feeling me up as I continue to leak honestly feels so pathetic, and I can’t help but whimper.

Once Jamie finally realizes just what she’s tasting, she goes feral. Her tongue picks me up and shoves me over to her molars, placing me down carefully only to bite specifically at my pants and panties to rip them off. I’m finally completely naked. I’m then forcefully sent sliding towards her lips, pushed through so that my upper body dangles out of her mouth while my legs stay inside. She has her lips pressed tightly against my crotch, and she begins sucking on me while simultaneously licking relentlessly at my taint. It’s too much, sliding back and forth on her lips like this, grinding against such intense moisture, feeling that giant tongue absolutely lick me clean. I can’t think straight.

My vision is blurry in the light after having been in darkness for so long, but I can see Jamie vibing her clit. She’s shaky and wet, her frantic breaths pushing against my body as I rest my upper half against her lower lip.

I already feel close to a second orgasm, but then Jamie’s vibrator turns off. Her mouth opens wide, tongue licking her lips while I’m dragged along against her skin underneath. I’m then plucked up by my legs, dangling in front of her face. I am completely drenched, drop after drop of saliva falling down and hitting her body. We’re both breathing heavy, faces red. She looks at me, and from my upside down view I can see her smile before I’m sent down between her thighs.

Warm. That’s the first word that comes to mind. I’m shoved against her clit, and I immediately start humping. We’re both completely soaked so the grinding is smooth. Jamie’s moans from high above me reverberate through my ears, and I can feel her get wetter by the second. Her grip doesn’t let up, and she actually starts to rub me against her forcefully. She doesn’t need her vibrator now, she can just use me. I cum again, becoming even more slicked up as I’m slid up and down across her crotch. I can’t tell whether I’m more covered in her saliva or my cum anymore, I’m too brainless and soaked to process. She is in complete control of me; I’ve become nothing but her glorified sex toy.

She starts tensing, squeezing her thighs together tightly, and she quickly shoves me inside her hole. It’s a similar environment to the mouth but far more constrictive. Oppressive. Her walls push against me as I squirm and stimulate her, barely being able to breathe from her scent and moisture completely overpowering me.

Finally, she cums, and I hold my breath as I am once again completely drenched in her. I manage to get pushed out right in between her thighs, stuck pressed there until she unclenches. It’s all so much, so many new and euphoric sensations. I’m breathing heavier than I’ve ever breathed before, feeling like I might pass out at any moment. Yet I cannot stop myself from huffing her scent like my life depends on it, cannot slow my racing heart after everything that just happened to me.

When she unclenches, I do not go sliding down her thigh. Rather, I remain stuck there, practically webbed by the saliva and cum I’ve quickly become accustomed to being drenched in. Strings of fluid connect me to her other leg. I want more. I can get an explanation later, I just need to be back in her mouth again. Back inside her. I already feel myself start to dry up and I whine, trying to squirm out of the adhesive I’m trapped in.

I hear a breathless chuckle from above as I am carefully ripped from my prison, once again left dangling in front of Jamie’s face.

“Wow, so d-desperate for more? I g-g-guess I was right. You are a fun little toy.” She stutters and takes deep breaths as she speaks, likely just as brainless from pleasure as I am.

“P-please put me back in your mouth. I need—I need to feel your tongue again.” I blush furiously at the plea, already feeling myself ready to cum again. This is so fucked.

“Of course, Hazey. Anything for you.” And with that, Jamie opens her mouth and drops me inside once again.

Feeling the warmth of her breath and saliva is a comfort I could never take for granted. Her tongue is gentler this time, hums of approval ringing from her throat as she savors every taste of me. I let myself relax for a bit as she feels me up, catching my breath while still feeling highly aroused from the licking. Once my heart rate is under control, I slowly stand and wrap my body around her tongue as best I can. I then begin to thrust myself into it over and over again, my cock sliding against the impossibly warm and slick surface. It feels amazing.

A chuckle sounds from Jamie’s throat as I hump, and I feel her body rise as she begins to—presumably—clean up. I’ve gone from a sex toy to a simple form of stimulation for her mouth. A thing to mindlessly flick around and play with while she goes around and focuses on other tasks. The thought makes me blush ever so slightly more.

I feel myself get close to a third orgasm, but her tongue quickly goes back to overpowering me, pushing me towards her molars once again. This time, however, she bites down on me. Not enough to injure or kill me, but enough to keep me trapped with just enough pain that I still feel good. My lower body is facing her tongue, but I cannot see what it’s actually doing. From the feel of it, it doesn’t seem like she’s doing anything to me anymore. Is she just going to leave me here? Prevent me from reaching the orgasm I was so close to? My train of thought is interrupted, however, when her tongue suddenly goes to fondle my crotch and taint. The surprise of receiving such overwhelming sensations out of nowhere makes me moan loudly, feeling myself just on the edge of cumming.

But. Then she stops again. Oh you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.

She repeats this process multiple times: fondling me by surprise only to stop just before I orgasm. No matter how much I try to squirm out of her teeth, how much I try to maneuver my arms to touch myself, it’s no use. I quickly become brainless and whiny, eventually deciding to cry out pleas for her to let me cum.

After enough begging, she finally relents, licking me once again but this time without stopping. I’m still trapped under her molars, but I thrash around wildly as I’m finally able to let myself go all over her tongue. I all but scream as the feeling fills my body. I don’t care how embarrassing it may sound, all I can focus on is releasing my pent up pleasure all over her. I feel each burst of cum exit me, all of which bringing more and more pangs of overwhelming euphoria. More and more pathetic sounds. I feel elated. Wet, shaky, dizzy, and elated.

As I come down from the climax, her teeth let me go. I look at my body to see massive red teeth marks across my chest. Woah. I try to stand up, but I’m so shaky and filled with pleasure that I immediately fall over. Her tongue takes that as an opportunity to pick me up and bring me towards her lips. Her mouth opens and I am released once again, only this time her tongue slowly angles down so that I slide off into her cupped hands below.

She holds my small and soaked body tenderly as I regain my senses, raising her hands so I’m at eye level. I look at her face and am shocked to see tears falling down rapidly.

“I’m sorry Hazel! I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m s—“

“Hey hey hey! I’m okay! I don’t know what that was, but I feel fine. Good, even!” I try to comfort her, sitting up and gently rubbing her palm with my hand. “Although, I would like to ask…why? Why did you do all this?” Sue me, I wanna know.

Jamie sniffs, the tears not slowing down. “I—I—I’m in love with you, Hazel.”

I freeze, and for a moment my heart stops. I say nothing, and she continues.

“And—and I was too afraid to ask you out or admit my feelings because you’re so…” She looks closely at me now, eyes filled with stars at the sight of me. ME?? “…you. I’ve loved you for a while now; your smile, your voice, your authenticity, your laugh, your jokes, your absolute beauty, even your stupid fucking movie obsession.” I wet chuckle at that, feeling tears falling down my eyes as well. “You are the only person I ever want to love, Hazel…and I ruined it. I got too desperate. I used you. I’m so fucking sorry.”

I stand up now, and gesture for her to move me closer to her face. She complies, and once I’m close enough I rush to hug her cheek. I really start bawling now, so overwhelmed from the affection.

“I—I’ve loved every moment spent with you, Jamie! You’re so fucking smart and funny and sweet and an absolute dumbass. There isn’t a part of you I don’t want to cherish. I…I love you too.” I manage to get out through sobs, feelings I had no idea were there finally coming up to the surface. “To be honest…I didn’t think you’d ever want to be with, well, someone like me.” I step back from her cheek now, wrapping my arms around myself in a pitiful hug.

Jamie bends her head forward, pressing a giant but soft kiss onto my head as I cry. “Oh, Hazel…you know that doesn’t bother me. I mean shit, I watched by your side as you slowly become the person you’ve always wanted to be. It’s admirable! You’ve become so much happier and genuine with yourself. So much prettier. How could I not love you?”

I full on wail at that, and she presses me close to her chest as I sob. The rhythmic beats of her heart slowly calm me down, and my breathing eventually begins to level.

“Do—do you mean that, Jamie?” I clutch her shirt as I brace for the inevitable ‘Just kidding! You’re gross!’

But it never comes.

“Every word, Hazel. I want to love you for the rest of our lives.” She gently takes one of her hands to rub the back of my head as I quietly cry into her shirt.

“So do I.” I manage to get out, and I feel her heart stutter ever so slightly.

“You mean that? Even after…what I did?” Jamie sounds nervous, just as afraid of rejection as I was. But she never has to worry about that. Not with me.

“I do. I really mean it. I could never hate you or leave you. I never want to spend a moment without you in my life.” I press a kiss onto her chest. “Besides, I was into it.” I full on laugh and Jamie can’t help but laugh too.

“Oh and I’m the dumbass?” She holds me even closer to her body, seemingly never letting go any time soon. Good.

When we both stop crying after a while, Jamie is the first to speak again. “So…do you want me to grow you back to normal size?” From a nearby window, I can see it’s dark out now. I am exhausted.

“Can…can I stay like this for the night? Sleep on your chest?” It was an embarrassing request, but I knew she wouldn’t care. She would probably tease me a bit though.

“Awww! You are adorable!” Speak of the devil. “Of course you can stay small tonight…though I think I accidentally swallowed your clothes.” I chuckle at her guilty expression, and resolve to just stay naked to sleep…as long as I can dry off first.

After we both get ready, Jamie lays down in her bed, and I rest in my position next to her heart, her hand serving as a blanket for me. This was an absolutely confusing and…surprising start to our relationship, and I had no idea what the days ahead would bring, but I knew we would figure it out.

I smile as the warmth of her body and pulses of her heart lull me to sleep.

~

Shoutout to my wife @flowers-but-gay for being my smart dumbass and describing how a shrink ray would potentially work only for me to dumb it down 😭

Also shoutout to Eve @specksizedgoddess for brushing the dust off my g/t kink and getting me back into writing

[maggeemoo]

Tarnished Mirror; Ch. 3

-[CW: Violence, Choking (and not the good kind~)]-

A cacophony of clangs is all that can be heard now, other than the brief, split-second moments of heavy breathing. With every impact, a little bit of rust chips away from Jaune’s sword, and yet the blade is still somehow impossibly sharp.

With every step and swing, Pyrrha realizes more and more just how outmatched she is. Even using her semblance proves mostly useless, Jaune’s sheer skill enough to beat her at her own game. With one more push of Polarity though, Pyrrha locks the grip of her Semblance around Jaune’s blade, stopping it in its tracks just before it was about to slash her chest.

He pushes harder and harder to try and beat it, every single part of him pouring every ounce of his strength into overpowering her. For a second he does, but Pyrrha takes the moment to focus on his armor, using her Semblance to grab it and launch him backward suddenly. He flies into the already ruined tent, but it doesn’t take long for him to stand up from the cloud of sand and paper. “So your Semblance has evolved enough to mimic other Semblances now? Maybe the Monster’s stories weren’t him being scared, I hate to say it but he might have been right about something; you being a threat.”

For some reason, Pyrrha sees a pale yellow sheen form around Jaune before it grows brighter and brighter… and then shatters, his aura having disabled and broken itself somehow. As the yellow particles fade into the air he also starts… taking off his armor, reaching underneath the plates and unlatching the leather straps that kept them in place.

Now completely unarmored save for the thin clothes he was wearing under the armor, Jaune finally takes the helmet off and tosses it aside, also dropping his sword. He takes a big breath before he lunges again, much faster now and somehow even stronger than before.

Without any metal for Pyrrha’s Semblance to latch onto, she struggles and fails to dodge Jaune’s attacks. With him being unarmored now, she doesn’t even try to block out of fear of hurting him. Finally after a long struggle, Pyrrha just barely loses her footing, giving Jaune a perfect opening.

He pounces and grabs her, his grip strong around her neck. But his grip isn’t what starts hurting, the pain in Pyrrha instead seeming to radiate from inside her. She tries to scream, to say anything at all, but she can’t breathe. 

But for some reason, neither can he.

His grip is getting tighter, but in her struggle, Pyrrha sees a strange imprint around Jaune’s neck as well. It looked like his own hands were just invisible and squeezing his own throat shut, his face turning blue much sooner than Pyrrha’s. Pyrrha hesitates, tears starting to fall from her eyes, but she mouths “I’m sorry” before kicking Jaune square in the stomach, causing him to choke and fall to the side.

Pyrrha quickly chokes out a breath, rasping for air now that she can breathe at all. As soon as she’s sure that she can, though, she hurries to check on Jaune, rolling him over so he’s on his back.

Without his aura, Pyrrha’s strong kick knocked him out cold. He’s still breathing, in fact he’s already seeming to stir awake. She eeks out a sigh of relief, tears still falling from her face as she kneels over him. But with how much he seemed ready to kill her, she looks for her weapons just in case he pounces as soon as he’s up.

She sees them just a few steps away, probably thrown around in her struggle to get out of his grasp. She uses her Semblance to bring them to her… Or she tries to, only to find that she can no longer feel the draw of magnetism. She tries and tries, but it just isn’t there anymore. What’s worse is that she can’t see the red sheen around herself, where she’d normally feel the strain on her Aura from trying to use her Semblance.

She can’t feel her Aura at all. It’s not broken, just… gone. In its place is just that searing pain from when Jaune was on top of her, clamping her throat shut. It’s slowly fading, already much more of a sting than a burn, but Pyrrha’s aura is still nowhere to be seen.

She can’t even hope to win against Jaune now, with how strong he’s gotten she needs her aura and semblance to even hope to survive against him. So without any other choice, Pyrrha gets up and runs, grabbing her weapons as she flees. Jaune, now finally waking up, only sees the flurry of sand as Pyrrha kicks it up, and in his dazed state, all he can do is watch. Just as Pyrrha vanishes into the jungle, she glances back to see Jaune trying and failing to get up, managing to stand only to fall right back down. Only two words rush through her mind as she sprints away, feeling strangely cold now that the strange searing pain is fading.

I’m sorry.

==================================

With Pyrrha’s exceptional athleticism combined with the adrenaline of nearly being killed, it takes at least an hour before the burn of exhaustion finally seeps into her legs. Soon after, her lungs burn just as much, but compared to the searing pain of whatever Jaune did to her this pain is… strangely welcome.

Pyrrha doesn’t stop running just yet though, with how cold she felt without her Aura and Semblance part of her wants to keep feeling this burn, a strangely comforting warmth. But eventually it becomes too much, the burn turning to numbness–something that Pyrrha is currently just fine with as opposed to everything else around her–and then to a sort of prickly fuzzy feeling, overpowering her senses enough to make her trip in some of the sand… no, mud? 

Looking upwards, Pyrrha sees thick grey clouds looming overhead, all pouring down a torrent of rain. How she was even still running in the thick mud, she doesn’t know, but she does know that now she’s tripped and fallen, she’s absolutely caked in mud.

She gets up and glances around, quickly spotting a larger-ish tree with leaves big enough to at least somewhat shield her from the sudden downpour. As soon as she’s under the cover of the canopy, she lets some rainwater collect in her hands to try and wash herself, or at least rinse herself off. It works just fine, but when she goes to wipe off what she assumes to be warm mud from her face, nothing comes off.

Wiping at her face, she does get a little bit of mud off of her forehead and out of her hair, but her face as a whole seems to already be clean. And yet her cheeks and jaw still feel warm and slick, water still dripping from her face.

It takes her a good few seconds of trying to dry her face to realize that she was crying so much that her tears washed the mud away.

All of a sudden her emotions crash into her like a tsunami hitting a floodwall. She feels her heart beating, her throat closing up as she chokes out sudden sobs. Only now does the burn in her legs feel unwelcome, feeling to her like someone was pressing hot coals against her skin. Her legs give out, knees buckling under her own weight. The ground around the tree is thankfully not muddy, but Pyrrha hisses in pain as she lands on rocks.

“H-Hey! Just because I’m smaller than you doesn’t mean you can try to sit on me!” A tiny, somewhat quiet voice squeaks out from behind Pyrrha. She turns around to see a small mouse hiding behind a rock, clearly a little damp from the rain. With the absurdity of the whole situation, all that Pyrrha can think to do is laugh under her breath.

“W-What’s so funny? You nearly s-squashed me you know!” The mouse says, looking both scared and angry at the same time as Pyrrha calms down, both her crying and laughter dying down.

“S-Sorry, sorry, I just… Heh, everything’s just too much. Last thing I remember I was fighting in Beacon, and then I was just standing here. Then I find Jaune and he’s aged for whatever reason, and so much stronger than before… Where even am I?”

“Jaune? Do you mean the Rusted Knight? Are you friends with him?” Pyrrha takes a minute to think before responding to that, her mind racing with too much information to think clearly. “I am, or at least I was. But he’s changed, and for some reason, he thought I was someone else.”

“Maybe you just knew the old him! I’ve never met him myself but some of the older people in my village have, and they say not to talk to him. Everyone says that he used to be nice but one day when he visited he was different and hasn’t changed since.” The mouse says calmly, having already forgotten that Pyrrha nearly squished them when she fell.

“Really? Were there any other people like him; like me with him?”

“I don’t know, but I think I heard someone in the village say something about two smaller ones with him.” Smaller ones? Why would Jaune have children with him? Wait, the broken sword and the rusty armor…

“The kids- er, smaller ones, was one of their names Alyx?” Pyrrha asks the little mouse, something starting to click in her head.

“Alyx? Hmm… I think I heard someone say that name a while ago, but I’m not sure… I could lead you to my village to ask around if you want!” The mouse says as the both of them look out to see the rain is starting to lighten up.

“I… I’d love to, really, but with how Jaune- uh, the Rusted Knight really seems to want me dead, I don’t think it’d be a good idea to get you and your people caught in the crossfire. Even if he didn’t attack you directly, you all could get caught underfoot.”

The mouse frowns a little, but a tiny spark in their eyes looks almost content, like they’re fine with waiting for something. “Alright then, I guess I can just give you some directions at least! You see that path over there?” The mouse asks, pointing to a lightly-trodden path just past a small clearing. Pyrrha looks over and nods, seeing that it leads up to the cliffs that she’s currently below. 

“If you go that way then you’ll eventually get somewhere that you can look around, it usually leads up to one of the higher cliffs too so you’ll be able to see plenty!”

“Thanks… Wait, what do you mean it usually leads to the higher cliffs?” Pyrrha asks, unsure of what the mouse means exactly.

“Oh, the path is never the same! Going down you end up in the same place but going up is always different, and for whatever reason unless you want someone to follow you they’ll end up on a different path, so the Knight won’t be able to follow you!” The mouse answers cheerfully, Pyrrha smiling as the strange little creature cheers her up a little.

“Oh, that’s… that’s perfect actually. Thank you, uhh… I didn’t get your name, what is it?” Pyrrha asks, only just now realizing that she hasn’t known the mouse’s name at all.

“Name? I’m too young, don’t have one yet! I kinda want to be an Explorer though so that could be a good one…” The mouse answers, getting a little lost in thought. “Ah well, no use thinking about it! What’s yours?” “Mine? I’m Pyrrha, Pyrrha Nikos. And wouldn’t Explorer be more of a title than a name?”

The mouse takes a good second to think about Pyrrha’s question, not fully understanding. “Aren’t they the same thing? And you’ve got a weird name, how does one Pyrrha Nikos?” Pyrrha can’t help but let a chuckle escape before answering, the brief pause letting her see that the rain has died down to a very light drizzle. “A name isn’t what you do, little one, that’s your title. Names are just what you call people.”

For a moment Pyrrha could swear that she sees steam coming from the cute little mouse’s ears, their mind working overtime and still not wrapping around what she said. “I’m sure it’ll make sense eventually!”

Another giggle escapes Pyrrha’s lips, her breath feeling much calmer than before and not hurting with every inhale and exhale at all. “I’m sure you’ll get it. In any case I hope that you stay safe, little one. And maybe you will be an explorer, or maybe your destiny is to guide the journey of others. Either way, thank you for the help, little one.” Pyrrha says as she stands up, being careful to not fall and smush the mouse.

“I’ll certainly try, Pyrrha Nikos! If I do become an explorer then I hope to run into you again during my travels!” The mouse says, cheerfully waving as Pyrrha waves back, heading towards the path the little mouse pointed to.

Some small part of Pyrrha hoped that they would meet again, thankful to have met such a friendly face in such an unfriendly place. As soon as her feet hit the path, Pyrrha finally felt a sense of direction. She put one foot in front of the other again and again, seeing the path before her loop a few times just like when she first arrived here. But she trekked on.

And soon she saw a new path, the one behind her nowhere to be seen.

==================================

(That's the end of Chapter Three, everything past this is just me the author rambling~ And here's a link to the Previous Chapter, and a link to Chapter One! I'll get a link to Chapter Four as soon as it's up~)

Hello again everyone! Sorry that Chapter Three took so dang long to post, put simply I got a little bit of writer's block and combined with being a college student in the midst of finals I had to put a few things on the backburner~ Regardless I hope you can enjoy it, I'm really happy with it right now so I'm gonna post it before I can start criticizing my own work~

As usual a large chunk of credit has to go to @pilot-boi for the original idea of the Mirror Man which I'm incorporating into this AU, so big thanks to them and go give them all the love if you haven't already!

Oh and one more thing, would you guys like me to make a masterpost with all the chapters at some point? I'm not new to tumblr as a whole but I certainly am when it comes to posting so it'll take a bit but if you want it I'll get on it! Anyways with that out of the way, I hope that everyone has a wonderful day/night, and that you're all doing wonderful all around! I'll be seeing ya around~

[evolutionsvoid]

I know I have said before that oceans get all the clout and legends when it comes to water bodies, with maybe swamps coming in at second place. There are many obvious reasons for that, but I want to remind folk that there can be fascinating and dangerous things lurking in any water body! Lakes were brought up in some previous entries, with mentions of the Glutwort and Berberoka being terrors found within. I mean, it could be said that lakes and ponds are just mini, salt-free oceans, and that the largest of these types can net the same horror stories and tales of mystery as the sea. But what about rivers? Certainly they deserve some mention as well! There are some neat things found in their depths and rapids! However, I feel the most I see on rivers and streams is them blocking paths and sweeping away fools who dare cross unprepared. The river is an obstacle, and less so a place of intrigue and discovery. What incredible legends are told about these water bodies? What tales of adventure and monsters are centered around such a location? None! None at all, and it is an absolute shame! (Bold claim for someone who doesn't read anything besides dusty tomes and research papers. Maybe one day you could stomach the idea of enjoying some different literature.) There is plenty to be found in these serpentine roads of water! Don't think the sea is the only one that has the monsters people crave! I know some folk in a certain region would happily inform you that the river can, indeed, harbor frightening beasts.

Below the white water and churning current, waiting in the dark muddy depths, is a great pale serpent. Its body can reach over three meters long, and its width is like that of a tree trunk. It has two powerful teeth that it uses as deadly weapons, dooming all it sinks them into. Now it may sound like a vicious viper, a truly monstrous water snake! However, this is no reptile! The beast I am describing is the Indus Worm, which is....well, a worm! And one of impressive size! The description I gave to you earlier was no lie, it is truly that big and it is a pale thing that lives in rivers. The two teeth I mentioned, which you probably envisioned as "fangs," are actually much thicker and broader. Like sharpened boards or a hefty beak, these nasty teeth are not known for venom but sheer strength. A single chomp can punch a hole through your body with ease, and bone turns to pathetic shards when met with this force. What a set of chompers! Wonder what they use those for?

In their early years, these hefty teeth are not really used for carnage. Their diet is mainly algae scrapped from rocks, eventually growing big enough to start gnawing on mussels and hard-shelled foods. At a small size, the teeth also serve as tools for carving holes and grooves into stone, which serve as a good place to hide from the current and predators. Though not big at devouring flesh at these stages, they are still capable of a nasty bite when threatened. Fishermen who haul one up from an accidental snag are sure to keep their fingers clear of their snapping jaws, lest they lose them. When the Indus Worm becomes an adult, that is when the diet gets more meaty. They are ambush hunters, slithering through the mud and murky water in search of prey. Shellfish are still on the menu, and help keep the belly full til something nice and big comes by for a drink. When a large animal stalks close to the water's edge, the Indus attacks. It bursts from the water and seeks to sink its massive teeth into the flesh of its victim. Unless the prey is quick to react and fast in movement, if the bite lands then it is typically over in an instant. Skulls are crushed, organs are punctured, and an entire limb may go missing if the assault misses its mark. Losing limbs and chunks of meat are the "lucky" option if you are able to move vitals out of range in time. Yes, dodging the bite entirely is preferable, but if you are being ambushed at such close range, you don't really get a say if that happens or not.

When the teeth latch on, prey is either dead or mortally wounded. From there, the Indus Worm drags them back into the river with it, where it may dine. With such powerful jaws, the Indus eats everything it can, gorging quickly before scavengers and unwanted guests show up for a free meal. If you are caught by an Indus Worm, just know that there will be nothing left to bury. Unless in your struggle it happens to lop off an arm and leave that behind at the scene. Due to bodies being reduced to paste in their jaws, some wonder how many disappearances near the river are from being washed away versus being taken by a worm. Honestly sounds like a scary story for the saplings already! Stay away from that river or else the worm will get ya! But in this case, the tale isn't a fictional one that conjures a boogeyman to be a stand-in for real life dangers. Seriously, don't go near the river because there actually is a worm!

Their presence makes these water bodies dangerous to those who live nearby, as any muddy shore could be hiding an Indus. They not only attack people, but are perfectly capable of dragging down camels and cows. So when your livestock or beasts of burden stop by for a drink, you have to be on your toes! You fail to secure the area and you could be losing an animal, or yourself! So to avoid this fate, folk will carry ropes with large hooks on the end, and throw them into the waters they wish to use. The movement may trigger an attack, or the barbs being pulled back to shore may snare a hiding worm. In most cases, the thrower will not have the strength to haul in such a catch, and merely cut the line to let the angered worm go. Its writhing and rage will spoil the hunt and make it leave, while also giving a brief window of safety for this section of water. It certainly isn't a perfect system, but I suppose it is the best they got at the moment. Nets are occasionally used, but that way is pretty costly as they are always torn to ribbons in the struggle. Some advice suggests seeking very shallow and clear waters, as it makes the worm easier to spot.

Now it may seem like people want nothing to do with these giant worms, avoiding them entirely. However, Indus Worms are actually hunted pretty frequently, as they fetch a high price! While the huge teeth may make fine trophies or carving material, what people actually want is their oil. What oil you ask? Well, you see, the Indus Worm is a pretty squishy soft thing, which makes it vulnerable to sharp rocks, toothy predators and parasites. So to protect itself, they possess bulbous glands running alongside their body that secretes an oil that coats their form. This oil easily survives water, is pretty bitter and is thick enough to ward off jagged points and hungry parasites. The coating is great for protection, but there is one detail that really gets people's attention: it is flammable.

Indus oil burns intensely, creating a potent flame that sears through anything caught in it. Due to the oily nature, it clings to people, armor and siege weapons, and is even capable of surviving water! The flames cannot be doused with water, they must be smothered, making them very hard to snuff out during battle or chaotic situations. This makes it a highly prized substance for war, sabotage and arson. Indus Worms are caught, killed and strung up above clay vessels, so that they can catch every drop of oil that falls from their sliced bodies. The demand and difficulty in obtaining this oil makes it very expensive, said to only be affordable for royalty and nobles. This oil also gives the Indus Worm a fatal weakness: stick it with flame and the whole beast will go up like dry tinder! However, this obviously consumes the oil, which renders the whole hunt pointless. With how much hypothetical money goes up in smoke when you burn one of these worms, I think folk may throw you in the river with the dying serpent in anger if you choose this method.

Chlora Myron

Dryad Natural Historian

[headspacedad]

so you're ready to socialize

You've got your blog set up. You've posted or reblogged something. Your icon isn't a faceless orange shape. You're no longer in danger of being blocked on sight as a bot.

Now what?

I recently got an ask in my inbox for help with this whole 'tumblr' thing. The person that asked me had a lot of the basics down so I focused on expanding your social circle - except it took me so long to write that I saved it in my drafts to add to and only then found out that once its in your drafts you can't reply privately.

so - Imma post it here without the actual ask so if the person didn't want to be mentioned they won't. Let's go!

First off, doing what you're doing right now by sending me an ask is a great way to get the ball rolling. Reaching out to other people and engaging them is a big part of how you can build a circle on tumblr.

You can do that with inbox messages.

You can do that with DM/PMs (the box that pops up to the side where you can have real time text conversations).

You can do that by reblogging other people's posts and leaving notes in the tags commenting about the post (most posters read these, though they're more for your followers to get your thoughts on a matter, like whispering in a movie theater except without the dirty looks)

reblog their post and add your own comments in the body of the post, basically chaining a response to their post, usually used when you've got something that adds to the original post like a continuation of the joke or more facts, etc.

and you can comment on the posts via the little speech bubble next to the reblog button, which is kind of like replying personally to the post (interacting with the poster themselves).

Not everyone will automatically engage in response. Some people are just here to chill and don't want to be social (some days I know I don't have the brainpower for it). A lot of people do want to be social though and so the more you comment outward the higher your chances of finding other people you can jive with. A good way to make your chances better at finding someone that will back and forth with you is over shared interests. We're a very interest based site. So find something you're excited about - maybe its a hobby like knitting, maybe its a streaming series like Good Omens, maybe its hamsters, maybe its Elizabethan neck ruffs! Whatever it is that you're interested in punch the words that will get those kinds of results into tumblr's search bar and look at the posts that come up. I tend to search by 'newest' instead of 'most popular' because it guarantees me people that are currently interested in whatever I am, who are actively putting their posts out there for others to find. Often if you start reblogging someone's posts, they'll see it and check out your blog. If you really want interaction though, the best way to go is one of the above bullet points, especially inbox or speech bubble commenting. It shows you want to talk about something they want to talk about too. A lot of times this is a great way to get more interaction with others and widen your circle (as well as find new stuff about something you enjoy). It might be slow going, I still haven't figured out what the magic is that gets someone a blow up of followers overnight, especially not the all important holy grail of Interactive followers but slow and steady still builds a good group of people you can enjoy sharing things everyone's interested in and it keeps growing over time.

This also works in reverse. A good chunk of my followers (friends honestly) come from my days in the Voltron fandom. I was VERY active making posts while the show was airing. Lots of fanfiction, lots of meta, lots of speculation, just lots of being loud and excited (and then loud and not excited). A lot of other people were interested in VLD too at the time and they found me and bounced off my ideas with ideas of their own and things really ballooned. To this day, a huge hard core of my social group are ex-VLD fans who have moved on to other things (mostly) but still hang around because we built that core and we enjoy seeing what the others in the group have moved onto and found to share with the team. So, again, find your interests and make posts about them so that other people with the same interests can find you. The more popular something is the more attention its going to get - but also the easier it is to get lost in the shuffle of everyone talking about a thing. Not every post is going to get responses. Sometimes I'll post something I think people will enjoy and get crickets. Sometimes everyone and their cousin jumps onboard. Don't get discouraged. DO use the tags. tumblr sucks when it comes to finding things in the tags but its still worth doing because sometimes, randomly and with no pattern, it doesn't suck. The first five tags are the really important ones. Make sure you put the biggest details there. For instance if you're making a post about the One Piece live action from Netflix your first five tags should be something like: one piece, opla, netflix, zoro, swords are cool. You want people looking for One Piece posts about Zoro and his swords to be able to find you easily. And, once they find you, hopefully to engage you about Zoro and his swords.

There are a lot of ways to find other people to interact with on tumblr. One of the pleasures of the site is you get to take things, for the most part, at your own pace and level of comfort. Just remember, the more active you are interacting with other people and their posts, the wider your circle will grow. Its not a 100% success rate, like I said, a lot of people are just here to vibe after a long day of having to be socially 'on' all day, but a lot of people are happy to find other people to get to natter about interests with. Do what you're comfortable with and before you know it, you'll have a group of people that interact with your posts, and you, regularly!

[cutthroatcarnival]

Febuwhump Day 19: “Please Don’t…”

Tags/Warnings: Mild anxiety attack

Legend hates storms with every fiber of his being, but maybe this one could be easier.

Read it on AO3!

Brewing Fear

The inside of the inn was quiet, interrupted by the rattling thunder of the storm raging outside. Lightning flashed, accompanied by another rumbling; it was a big one, with the lightning and thunder being so close together. Rain battered against the walls and windows, coming down heavy enough to obscure the outside view.

No occupant of the room was a stranger to nightmares and trauma responses, so no one would judge him for this, but he was still thankful that none of them were awake to see the humiliating situation; Legend had heard the first clap of thunder and had rocketed out of bed, diving under it as the lightning followed. He had curled up, burying his head into his arms and clamping his hands over his ears, trying to block out every aspect of the storm.

It was a little pathetic, really. A known Hero of Legend reduced to a trembling mess under a garbage inn bed by a simple storm. But he had seen what storms could do- they could tear things asunder with such ease and violence. Legend had witnessed it with his own eyes, watched and felt it tear and break and decimate, leaving behind its lasting effect.

He blinked back the tears, trying and failing to escape the memory of a gorgeous blue ocean turned a dangerous gray, of a simple sailing trip turned a one-way ticket to heartbreak and fear. Goddesses, he felt sick, stomach churning wildly, leaving him to swallow down the feeling. The tears returned, escaping his eyes and trickling down his checks. He gave a watery chuckle at the ticklish feeling of a tear crossing his nose bridge.

The bone-rattling thunder was louder than before, causing Legend to jolt, bashing his head against the bed above him. He curled up tighter, ignoring the throbbing and focusing on getting himself together- his hands wouldn’t stop shaking, matching his equally as shaky breathing, wincing with every boom and flash.

What he wasn’t suspecting was for the door to creak open, a flash of lightning illuminating the figure. Legend’s body tensed as the footsteps grew closer, another flash revealing the socked feet of the figure stopping just in front of the bed. The squeaking came from above as the person sat down. He heard something soft drop onto the floor, ears flicking forward, with a cautious hand he reached out, brushing his fingertips against it and holding back a happy squeak- whoever was sitting on the bed had dropped a blanket down for him. Legend grabbed the blanket and tugged it under, using it for warmth and to block out the flashing lightning.

A quiet voice rumbled from above, “If I had known you were afraid of storms, I would’ve come sooner.” Of course. Of course it was Time, who else would it be? And no, he wasn’t afraid of storms, he just had a severe dislike of them. The trembling, crying, and nausea just happened to be occuring at the same time. Just a coincidence. Legend gave Time a noise of disagreement, earning him a hum from above.

He forced down a whine as an especially bright flash of lightning filtered into the room, leaving him to cower further under the bed. Time had begun humming some sort of tune, Legend gritted his teeth as a stream of jealousy bolted down his spine. He hated that feeling, it wasn’t completely fair to feel it- Time, to his knowledge, had never been stuck in the midst of a violent storm, especially one in the middle of open water.

The bed above him squeaked, and Time’s feet were braced against the floor fully. Legend felt a flash of fear and panic- before he could stop himself, his hand shot out and grabbed the older hero’s ankle, “Please don’t… go…” His hand was shaken off, and he felt the pit inside him grow bigger, until he saw Time sit on the floor with his back against the bed, hand reaching backwards to grab Legend’s, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I wasn’t planning on going anywhere, Leg, you didn’t need to fret,” Legend squeezed Time’s hand back, “I’ll stay here as long as you need me.” He stifled his sobs, choking them back and forcing them down and away, refusing to be any more vulnerable than he already was. The storm still raged outside, but Legend felt safe; Time’s body blocked most of the incoming lighting flashes, and the blanket was really warm and soft.

“Like I said, it’s okay to be afraid of storms. We’ve all got our fears. As for myself, I’m scared of the moon.” Oh. Logically, he knew Time would never make fun of him for this, but just hearing that the Hero of Time- his predecessor- was scared of something that was deemed silly to be afraid of too, was what he needed.