#sorry for doing a man first in this series

[ellewritesx]

incidental charges

(part four of the sugar, baby series)

Summary: He takes what he wants. You give what's left.

Warnings: fingering, oral (m!receiving), unprotected sex, degradation, slutshaming, mild discomfort/pain, Harry's really mean, this is an angsty one i'm sorry

A/N: i'm lowkey very proud of this one but oh boy you guys are going to hateee me. i listened to ''i wanna be yours'' by arctic monkeys on repeat while writing this part so i'd 100% recommend listening to that while reading this if you'd enjoy that. let me know your thoughts when you're finished. enjoy (and good luck) x

Word Count: 3,587

...

You know something's wrong the second your phone buzzes. Come over. Now.

Not because the message itself says it, but because of everything it doesn't say. No teasing command. No filthy promise. Not even the ghost of a smiley face, like he sometimes uses when he's feeling particularly cruel. Just three words. Brutal. Unforgiving. Final.

You haven't heard from him in days, and this is how he chooses to reach out?

You shouldn't be this easy. Shouldn't feel your pulse quicken at the first sharp order he throws your way. But you're already tugging on the tightest, prettiest dress you own, already slipping into the shoes you know he likes for some reason, already rushing out the door like he's got a leash around your throat and a hand fisted in it.

You're already thinking about what you can give him, what you can do for him, to make whatever anger is coiled tight in his chest a little easier to bear.

When he opens the door, he barely looks at you.

No greeting. No dragging gaze over your body the way he usually does, savoring the little effort you make just for him. He just steps aside without a word, or even a simple acknowledgement, letting you pass like your presence is something he merely tolerates.

Your stomach drops, but you bite it down. You can handle this. You want to handle this.

Inside, the air feels electric, charged with something hot and volatile. His jacket is already off, thrown carelessly over a chair, like he hadn't even had the patience to put it away properly.

You frown. If there's anything you've learned about Harry since your arrangement started (which isn't much, honestly), it's that he's a very neat person. Never once have you seen his shirts wrinkled, or his tie crooked, or yesterday's clothes still on the floor. Never once have you seen dirty dishes in the sink, or crumbs on the kitchen counter, or even so much as a crinkle in his satin bedsheets.

His sleeves are shoved up to his elbows, veins bulging along the strong lines of his tattooed forearms. His jaw ticks once, twice, when he shuts the door behind you with a sharp, echoing click.

You turn to him instinctively, waiting for instruction, heart hammering against your ribs. But he doesn't say anything. He just stalks toward you with a hunger that's almost violent, yanks the strap of your dress down your shoulder, watches it slip halfway off your chest without even a flicker of appreciation.

It's not about how you look tonight. It's not about playing games. It's about need. About taking. About burning something off before it destroys him from the inside out.

You shiver under his hands but don't resist when he manhandles you backwards, walking you clumsily through the apartment toward the bedroom. You nearly trip over yourself, but he doesn't let you fall, just catches your hips in a bruising grip and drags you after him like he can't bear to waste a second more.

Still, you're so good. So desperate to soothe whatever anger he won't name. You don't even speak, just let yourself be pushed down onto the bed, legs falling open when he shoves at your thighs.

You want him to use you. You want to give him something real to anchor himself to.

Even if tonight, he's not reaching for you like a man reaching for salvation. Tonight, he's reaching like he wants to destroy something. And the worst part is, you want to let him.

You don't get a chance to breathe before he's crowding you on the mattress, pulling your dress up to your hips, baring your soaked underwear to his furious gaze.

''Course you're fucking wet,'' he mutters darkly, more to himself than to you, voice a low snarl. ''Knew you'd like being treated like this.''

Your breath hitches, but you stay still for him, let him strip you without so much as a whimper, watch your panties join the discarded pile of clothing on the floor. You spread your thighs wider when he forces your knees apart, giving him whatever he wants to take.

He doesn't even bother teasing you.

Two thick fingers shove inside you, rough and unforgiving, a guttural noise ripping from his throat when he feels how tight you clench down around him. You jolt with a soft cry, hips trying to squirm back from the abrupt stretch, but he's already got a bruising grip on your thigh, holding you down, open, forcing you to take it.

"Stay fucking still," he growls, curling his fingers viciously, seeking out that devastating spot inside you without an ounce of tenderness.

It hurts. It burns. But you take it, tears welling at the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming intensity, the sheer need to give him what he needs. Your hands clutch at the sheets, but you don't make a sound except the broken little gasps that slip from your throat when he pumps his hand faster, meaner, grinding the heel of his palm into your clit like he's trying to knock something loose inside you.

"You like that?" he sneers, watching your pretty face contort in helpless pleasure. "Like when I use you like a fuckin' toy?"

"Yes." Not really. You take a shaky breath, blinking up at him like he's the only thing that matters.

Something flashes behind his eyes, something sharp and vulnerable, but it's gone before you can catch it.

He pulls his fingers out roughly, shoving them into your mouth without warning, smearing your own slick over your tongue.

"You taste that?" he snaps. "That's what you're good for. The only thing you're good for."

The words land like a punch to the gut. You flinch, just barely, but he sees it. Sees the way your lashes flutter, the way hurt flashes in your eyes before you try to tamp it down.

He knows you don't like being talked to like that. He remembers. Knows exactly how much the insult must burn, sharp and humiliating on your tongue alongside the taste of yourself.

He wants it to hurt. Wants you to push him away, to finally shove him off and tell him to go fuck himself. Wants you to be angry with him, to look at him like he's the piece of shit he feels like tonight. It would be easier if you hated him. It would be safer.

But you don't.

You just suck his fingers obediently into your mouth, wide-eyed and willing, even as your throat tightens against the sting of his words. You take it, not because you don't feel it, but because you choose to stay anyway.

And that... that ruins him in a way he isn't prepared for.

Something almost like shame sparks behind his ribs, fast and unwelcome, but he smothers it down with the same furious instinct that made him lash out in the first place.

You don't fight him. You don't pull away, even when he fists your hair and drags you down to your knees on the floor at the edge of the bed.

"Open up," he orders, shrugging his pants and briefs off and tapping the thick head of his cock against your lips.

You do, without hesitation.

He groans brokenly under his breath as he drives himself into your mouth, too deep, too fast. Your throat strains around him, gagging, tears spilling hot and immediate down your cheeks, but you don't fight him. You dig your nails into his thighs and take it, blinking up at him through the wet haze clouding your vision, hollowing your cheeks even when you're fighting not to choke.

"Fuckin' perfect," he grits out, hips snapping hard enough to make you whimper around him. "Good little slut, lettin' me ruin you however I want. Aren't you, hm?"

The word slut cracks across your mind like a whip. You feel it hit, low and sharp, like scraping across an old bruise he promised he wouldn't touch. You'd told him. That night at the bar, when you first met, so many lifetimes ago, you'd told him that you don't like to be called names. That you take offense to it.

It makes something in your chest lurch, a bitter twist of hurt, betrayal, humiliation, and for one savage second you genuinely consider violently sinking your teeth into him.

You don't.

You dig your nails into your own palms instead, grounding yourself in the sting. You keep your jaw slack, let him fuck your throat, let him call you names you hate, because some wounded, stubborn part of you knows that's what he's trying to make you do. Trying to make you angry enough to leave. Trying to push you away.

He's picking a fight you refuse to give him.

And the longer you stay, the softer you look at him, tears slipping from your lashes, tongue still willing under the ugly words, the harder he fucks into you, like he can beat the tenderness out of you.

It hurts. It's messy and unrelenting and mean, but still, you look up at him with glassy, adoring eyes. You want him to know that you're here. That he can show you this side of himself. That you can be whatever outlet he needs you to be tonight.

You reach up, fingers mindlessly rubbing slow circles on the skin of his thighs, something to ground yourself, and him, while he uses your mouth like it's nothing but a hole to fuck.

And he feels it, the softness, the care threading through every touch. He jerks away suddenly, pulling out of your mouth with a wet, brutal pop, staring down at you like he doesn't understand you at all.

Then he's hauling you back onto the bed, shoving you down on your back so hard the air punches from your lungs. You barely catch your breath before he's wedging himself between your thighs, lining himself up, no teasing now, no patience.

"You want it?" he rasps, voice low and raw.

"Yes," you whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck instinctively, letting your legs fall open wider to invite him in.

He snarls under his breath like he hates how sweet you are to him. Then he drives into you with one savage thrust.

You cry out, back arching off the bed, hands clinging to him for dear life. He's huge, stretching you painfully wide, filling every inch like he wants to break you in half. He doesn't give you time to adjust, just sets a brutal pace immediately, hips snapping into you again and again, every thrust shoving you further up the mattress.

You cling to him anyway, one hand splaying against the sweaty plane of his back, feeling the muscles there bunch and flex with every furious movement.

You whisper to him between gasps, between whimpers. "It's okay, Harry. You can let go. I've got you. I'm here."

He groans low and vicious in your ear, fucking you harder to shut you up, but you swear you feel the tiniest shudder run through him.

You cradle his head to your shoulder, scratching your nails lightly over the short hair at the nape of his neck, murmuring soft praises between each wrecked moan.

"So good to me," you pant, kissing the shell of his ear, tightening your thighs around his hips. "You're perfect. Always so perfect."

His rhythm stutters.

Just for a second. Just a beat of hesitation. But you feel it. He buries his face in your neck like he can hide from it, from you, like if he just fucks you harder, he can fuck the weakness out of himself.

But it's too late.

You feel the anger melt into something messier, something achingly close to desperation, to want. You don't comment on it.

He slams into you harder, rougher, chasing his own release now, trying to outrun the gnawing ache swelling in his chest.

You don't stop touching him.

You don't stop whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

You just hold him, even when it hurts, even when your body is shaking from the force of his thrusts, even when you're barely holding yourself together at the seams.

And maybe that's what finally breaks him.

Because when he comes, buried deep inside you with a feral, broken sound, he doesn't even look at you.

And it stings.

It stings more than the bruising grip he's left on your hips, more than the ache between your legs where he's used you so carelessly.

Because Harry is always big on eye contact, he demands it. "Look at me, baby. Need to see you." "Eyes on me when you come." ''Show me those pretty eyes. There you are.''

He always wants you look at him. Needs you to, like the tether between you would snap otherwise.

But now, when you're lying underneath him trembling and cracked open, when you've given him every piece of yourself, he twists his head away, toward the wall, eyes screwed tight like he can't even stand the sight of you.

It guts you. Leaves you hollow and shaking, your orgasm wilting quietly inside you.

And somewhere, deep down, though he won't let himself feel it, it guts him too. Because he knows if he looks, if he really looks at the way you're still holding him, still whispering broken little praises under your breath despite your own pleasure fading, still caressing his skin like something sacred despite your own body tensing up.

So he looks away.

And it feels like the cruelest thing he's ever done to you.

He pulls out while you're still gasping for breath, yanks his pants up without a word, and disappears into the bathroom with the door slamming shut behind him.

The emptiness he leaves behind feels colder than any punishment he's ever given you. You blink up at the ceiling, heart splintering slowly in your chest, the mess between your thighs a humiliating, aching reminder that whatever has cracked open between you, he wants no part of it.

...

When he comes back, he doesn't say a word.

The bathroom light is still on behind him, casting a clinical glow across the floorboards, and his hair is a mess, cheeks blotchy from scrubbing. He won't meet your eyes.

He walks back into the bedroom like it doesn't belong to either of you, like it's a hotel room he's just checked into and you're the unfortunate occupant they forgot to remove first.

The air goes stiff.

You sit up slowly, the sheets pooling around your waist, heart thudding unevenly. You're not sure what you were expecting. Maybe a quiet, reluctant, apology, maybe an awkward attempt at a joke, maybe just for him to lie back down and act like it never happened, but none of it comes.

Instead, he leans down to grab his phone off the nightstand. His screen lights up his face in a wash of cold blue, making him look even more unreadable, if that's possible. You watch the way his jaw tightens. His shoulders twitch like he's chewing back something awful. He doesn't look at you once.

''Are you coming back to bed?'' you ask, voice hesitant and small, and you immediately hate yourself for how it sounds. Like you're begging.

The silence that follows is thick and sour. It curls between your ribs and settles there, anchoring itself to your shame. He doesn't even glance at you. Doesn't ask if he hurt you, physically or otherwise, doesn't acknowledge the way your hands tremble slightly as you pull the blanket up to your chest, covering yourself like you can shield yourself from whatever's happening between you right now.

''Did I do something wrong?'' you whisper nervously. You wish you didn't care. You wish you could swing your legs out of bed and leave first, say fuck you and mean it. But instead you just sit there, quiet and insecure and hurting.

He finally looks at you, just a flicker, a glance, eyes dark and unreadable.

''No,'' he says after a beat, and it's somehow worse than if he'd said yes.

Because if you'd done something wrong, at least there'd be a reason. A fix. A way back.

''No,'' he repeats, turning away, ''You were perfect.''

It should be comforting, but it sounds like an accusation.

You watch him tug on a hoodie from the floor, and you notice his fingers are shaking slightly, though he hides it well. Everything about him is tight, movements too stiff, face too blank, like he's holding himself together by force.

''Harry…''

''I think you should go,'' he says, and it's sharp. Clipped. Dismissive. And it hurts. So much.

You blink. ''What?''

He doesn't repeat it. Just tosses your clothes at you, like throwing you out after fucking you raw is part of the routine. Like your heart isn't currently trying to crawl out of your chest and disappear under the floorboards.

''You said I should stay,'' you remind him, because that's all you can cling to now, his own words, said so easily just days ago when his hands were still gentle and his voice was still kind. ''You said I should always stay after a night together. That it's the respectable thing to do. That you don't want to worry about me out alone at night.''

''I changed my mind.''

He still won't look at you. Like looking at you would make this real. Like your presence is something he has to ignore completely to make this easier on himself. Like he's already rehearsed this moment and now he's just waiting for it to be over.

You try again, your voice cracking, soft. ''Harry, please—''

''I'm not in the mood,'' he cuts in, leaving no room for discussion. ''Just go. I got you an Uber. Don't make this harder than it has to be.''

Panic flares under your skin. Instinct more than reason, you move without thinking, pulling your dress up your body in hurried motions, struggling to zip yourself up. It's something Harry usually does for you, always making a show of it, always making sure to kiss your shoulder before stepping away.

You give up on the zipper halfway. You just want to fix this, want to make it better, the way you always do.

Before he can tell you to leave again, you step forward, reaching for him, sliding your arms gently around his waist from behind. You press your cheek to the broad curve of his back, kiss the spot between his shoulder blades the way you always do when he's upset, when he's stressed, when he's somewhere you can't reach with words alone.

For a second, you think he might let you. But then his body stiffens under your touch, breath hitching, shallow in his chest.

And he flinches.

He jerks away from you like you've burned him, shoulder twisting sharply out of your grasp, shrugging you off like you're something repulsive he can't stand to have near him. You stumble back a step, arms falling uselessly to your sides, blinking at him in shock.

''Don't,'' he says, voice low and vicious. ''Just... don't touch me.''

The words taste like blood in his mouth. Everything inside him screams at him to take them back, to reach for you, to apologize, to fall into your arms the way he always, always, wants to when it's you. But his walls are up now, higher than ever, and he doesn't know how to tear them down without destroying himself in the process.

So he stands there, rigid and silent, forcing himself to feel nothing as he watches the hurt bloom raw across your face.

It's not just the words. It's the way he spits them out, like your touch is something filthy. Like you're some desperate, clingy thing he can't shake fast enough.

Your chest caves in on itself. You nod, even though it feels like your heart is physically tearing apart. You don't try again. You don't say anything at all.

He doesn't either.

There's something feral in his eyes. Not anger exactly, more like desperate frustration. Like he's trying to get you to hate him. Like he needs to burn this bridge before you get any closer to the parts of him he can't control.

He sees the heartbreak behind your eyes. You know he does. You see the flicker of guilt, tiny, barely there, before he crushes it down and tosses another dagger instead.

''You should be used to this by now,'' he mutters. ''Not like this is anything serious.''

It's the worst thing he could've said. And you know he knows it. You know because he still doesn't look at you. Because he throws the words like knives and doesn't wait to see where they land.

You swallow around the lump in your throat, nod slowly, eyes burning. Your body still aches, slick between your thighs, bruises blooming from where he held you down, and now he's pretending you're no one. Like none of it mattered. Like you didn't try to hold him together while he was falling apart inside of you.

You grab your phone without another word.

Your look for your bag, but you don't ask for help, don't let him see you search for it. You keep your head up. Refuse to cry in front of him. Not now. Not after this.

And when you walk out, heart in your throat, clutching your bag, you don't look back.

He doesn't either.

...

thank you so much for reading! i appreciate any and all support so remember to like, comment and reblog. requests are open! 💕

sugar, baby series tag list

@indierockgirrl @prettygurl-2009 @cherryflavoredbyme @dipmeinhoneyh @haliastyless @drewrry @maddiesalvatore1839 @robinsue87 @zoraaasyd @sincerely-yours-marsbar @m0mmyfromtarget @maudie-duan @hoolabalooba @hisparentsgallerryy @txmhxllqnd @harringtonhundreds @freddyselmstreet

general tag list

@2601-london @mads3502 @angeldavis777 @run-for-the-hills @postsexfistbump @hobireasns @madilee7802 @spinninc

...

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, always and forever ࿐‧₊ new beginnings

chapter summary: The team finally gets a lead on Transigen.

word count: 20.9k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: finally! obviously, if i mention transigen, there's more than likely going to be laura with it!

sorry for posting a little later than normal, i was running errands with my mom then helped her cook dinner. (then watched andor with my dad)

(i didn't realize this chapter was also long, oops-)

warnings/tags: reader wears glasses, fluff, angst, transigen, mentions of experimentation, smut, oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, protective!logan, protective!laura

series masterlist - chapter 13 → chapter 15

“I might have to cancel my session with Bucky.” Jean said, as the team got off the Blackbird. “Might be here for a while.”

“Or it’ll just be another dead end.” Kitty retorted.

“I think we can all agree that things are better without the Avengers in the mansion.” Scott spoke, leading the team. “Don’t have to deal with Stark’s incessant ego.”

“You’re tellin’ me.” Logan muttered.

After months of searching, Tony and Hank found a lead: a pharmaceutical company in Mexico City, rumored to be a front for illegal experiments conducted by Transigen. It was tenuous at first, whispers of missing kids and shipments of questionable materials, but it was enough for the team to move in.

The team split into smaller groups upon entering the facility. Logan led one group to handle security while Jean, Scott, and Ororo focused on evacuating any innocent workers or bystanders. You were paired with Kitty, tasked with finding the information room and gathering data on Transigen’s activities.

“Stay close,” Kitty said, her voice soft as the two of you crept down a sterile, dimly lit hallway. “The lab should be just up ahead.”

“I’m right behind you,” you whispered, clutching the strap of your small bag, which held the portable hard drive Hank had given you. The soft hum of machines and the faint murmur of voices in the distance made your stomach churn.

The information room was easy enough to locate, its doors marked with a keypad. Kitty phased the two of you inside effortlessly. The room was cluttered with monitors, hard drives, and endless rows of filing cabinets.

“This place screams ‘villain HQ,’” Kitty muttered, already scanning the room for anything valuable. “Get the drives. I’ll keep watch.”

You nodded, moving to one of the terminals. As you plugged in the hard drive and started copying files, your hands trembled slightly. The thought of what Transigen could be doing here was enough to make your stomach turn, but you tried to focus.

“Almost done,” you whispered after a few minutes, glancing over your shoulder at Kitty.

Her brow furrowed as she stood near the door, her head tilting slightly. “Wait here,” she said, her voice low. “I hear something. I’ll check it out.”

“Be careful,” you urged, watching as she phased through the wall and disappeared down the hall. The silence that followed was oppressive, broken only by the faint whir of the computer transferring data.

Suddenly, the door burst open. Your head snapped up, heart pounding as three armed men stormed into the room.

“Hey! What are you—” Your voice faltered as one of them grabbed your arm roughly, yanking you away from the terminal.

Panic flared, but you reacted instinctively, grabbing the nearest object—a keyboard—and smashing it against the man’s head. He stumbled back with a grunt but recovered quickly, his grip tightening as he shoved you against the wall.

“Stay still,” he barked, his voice cold.

You struggled, your breathing ragged, but you weren’t a fighter—not like the others. Just as fear began to take hold, a sharp, wet sound cut through the air, followed by the thud of a body hitting the floor.

Your captor released you abruptly, staggering back with a strangled gasp. In the dim light, you saw her—a small girl, no older than four, her dark eyes gleaming with a feral intensity. Two sharp claws extended from each tiny hand, coated in blood.

“Wh—” You couldn’t finish the thought as the girl moved swiftly, taking down the other two men with alarming precision. When the last one hit the ground, she stood still, her small chest rising and falling rapidly.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Then her gaze shifted to you, wary but curious.

“Hey,” you said softly, raising your hands in a non-threatening gesture. Your voice trembled slightly, but you forced yourself to stay calm. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

The girl didn’t respond, her claws retracting slowly. She took a tentative step toward you, her expression guarded.

“Y/N!” Kitty’s voice came from the hall as she phased through the wall, her eyes widening at the scene. “What happened?”

“She… she saved me,” you stammered, gesturing to the girl, who was now watching Kitty with the same wary expression.

Kitty crouched slightly, her voice gentle. “Hey there, sweetie. We’re not here to hurt you, okay? Are you alone?”

The girl didn’t answer, but her posture softened just enough to suggest she wasn’t about to attack. You exchanged a glance with Kitty, your heart still racing.

“We need to get her out of here,” you said quietly. “And the others, if there are more.”

Kitty nodded, glancing at the computer. “Grab the drive. I’ll comm the team.”

You pulled the hard drive from the terminal, stuffing it into your bag. The girl’s gaze followed your every movement, and as you turned back toward her, she stepped closer, almost as if seeking reassurance.

“It’s okay,” you murmured, crouching to her level. “You’re safe now.”

Her small hand reached out, gripping the edge of your sleeve tightly. You froze, the weight of her touch grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected.

Ororo spoke through comms, “we got the kids. Y/N, do you have the data?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Good. Everyone meet up at the Blackbird.” Scott said.

You slowly crouched down, “is it okay if I pick you up?”

The young girl stood still for a moment before slowly nodding. You picked her up, settling her on your hip. “Let’s go, Kitty.”

---

By the time you and Kitty got to the Blackbird, Scott and Ororo were already there, a group of small children on the jet. “Jean? How is it going?” Ororo asked over comms.

“Good. Getting the last nurse out.” Jean responded.

“Logan?” Ororo questioned.

“Took care of the men. On our way.”

You sat the little girl down on the bench at the back of the jet. Her small hands clenched the fabric of your sleeve before you could move away, her grip surprisingly strong for someone so small. You paused, crouching to her level again.

“It’s okay,” you said gently, meeting her eyes. They were dark and intense, scanning your face like she was trying to decide if she could trust you. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Her grip loosened slightly but didn’t let go entirely. Kitty stepped closer, keeping her voice soft. “Y/N, is she hurt? Did you check her?”

You glanced back at Kitty, shaking your head. “She doesn’t seem hurt. I think she’s just… scared.” Turning back to the girl, you spoke softly, “are you hurt? Do you need anything?”

The girl remained silent, her gaze shifting between you and Kitty. She shook her head once, almost imperceptibly.

“Hey,” Logan’s voice cut through the quiet as he stepped onto the jet. He was covered in blood and dirt, his knuckles raw, but his expression softened when he saw you crouched beside the girl. “What’s goin’ on?”

“We found her in the lab,” Kitty explained, stepping aside to let Logan approach. “She saved Y/N. Took out three guys all on her own.”

Logan’s eyes flicked to the girl, who stiffened under his scrutiny but didn’t look away. “That so?” he said, his tone gentler than you’d expected. He crouched beside you, his larger frame somehow non-threatening as he looked at her. “You’re a tough one, huh?”

The girl didn’t respond, but her small hand tightened on your sleeve again. You glanced at Logan, unsure what to say.

“She hasn’t said anything,” you explained softly. “I don’t think she trusts us yet.”

Logan nodded, his eyes still on her. “That’s okay. She’s been through hell—probably doesn’t know who’s safe.” His gaze flicked to you, his expression unreadable. “She seems to trust you, though.”

You felt a flush creep up your neck, unsure how to respond. “I think she’s just scared,” you murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I don’t think she’s used to… this.”

Logan tilted his head slightly, studying the girl. “She’ll come around.” His voice dropped, meant only for you. “You’ve got a way with people, darlin’. Just keep doin’ what you’re doin’.”

Before you could respond, Scott’s voice carried from the front of the jet. “Everyone’s onboard. Let’s move!”

“Hang tight,” Logan said to the girl before straightening. He glanced at you one more time before heading to the cockpit.

You turned back to the girl, still crouched at her level. “We’re going to a safe place now,” you said softly. “You’ll be okay. I promise.”

She looked at you for a long moment before finally nodding, her grip on your sleeve loosening but not letting go entirely. You sat beside her on the bench, letting her hold on as the jet lifted into the air. Kitty took the seat across from you, her gaze flicking between the girl and you.

“You’re good with kids,” Kitty said quietly, offering a small smile.

You gave a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know about that. She just… needs someone right now.”

“Well, she’s lucky you were there.” Kitty leaned back, her expression softening. “She wouldn’t even let me get close.”

You glanced at the girl, who was now leaning slightly against your side. Her tiny frame felt so fragile, yet you’d seen her take down three grown men with ease. The thought sent a shiver through you. What had they done to her in that lab?

Logan’s voice came over the comms. “We’ll be back at the mansion in a couple hours. Hank, make sure the med bay’s ready.”

Hank’s reply crackled through. “Already on it. I’ll meet you there.”

As the jet settled into its flight path, you leaned your head back against the wall, your thoughts swirling. The girl shifted closer, resting her head against your arm. You glanced down at her, your chest tightening at the sight.

You placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

For the first time, she seemed to relax, her small body leaning into yours completely. You stayed like that, holding her close as the jet carried you all home.

---

The team was going through the files, trying to find out who each kid was when you realized something. In the files, every kid had a ‘Source DNA’ section. When you got to the young girl’s file—Laura’s—you saw something.

Source DNA: James Howlett

You stared at the screen, your breath catching in your throat. James Howlett. Logan. The realization hit like a weight pressing on your chest, and for a moment, the sounds of the bustling mansion around you faded.

“Y/N?” Jean’s voice brought you back, her hand gently resting on your shoulder. “What is it?”

You turned to her, unsure how to put it into words. “This girl—Laura. Her DNA… it’s Logan’s.”

Jean’s brows knitted in confusion before her eyes widened in understanding. “You’re sure?”

You nodded, pointing at the section of the file displayed on the screen. “It’s right here. ‘Source DNA: James Howlett.’ They… they used him to create her.”

Jean leaned closer, reading over the lines with a growing sense of dread. “She’s his daughter. Or… a clone, maybe. Either way, she’s connected to him.”

“She’s just a kid, Jean,” you whispered, glancing toward the med bay where the children, including Laura, were being examined. “And after everything she’s been through—”

“Does Logan know?” Jean asked, cutting you off gently.

“No. Not yet.”

Jean hesitated, her gaze searching yours. “Are you going to tell him?”

You opened your mouth to respond but stopped short. The truth was, you weren’t sure how to approach Logan with this. He’d been through enough already. Adding something like this…

“I will,” you said finally, though the thought made your stomach twist. “I just need to figure out how.”

Jean gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze. “You don’t have to do this alone, Y/N. I’ll help however I can.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, your thoughts already swirling with how Logan might react.

---

The medbay was quiet when you walked in, the soft beeping of monitors filling the space. Logan stood off to the side, his arms crossed and his gaze fixed on Laura, who sat perched on one of the examination tables. She was hunched forward, her small hands clutching a blanket someone had draped over her shoulders.

She’d been like that since you returned to the mansion, sticking close to you whenever possible and barely speaking a word to anyone. You didn’t blame her—whatever had been done to her in that lab would take time to heal, physically and emotionally.

Logan’s eyes flicked to you as you approached, his expression unreadable. “What’s goin’ on?” he asked, his voice low.

You glanced at Laura, then back at Logan. “Can we talk? Somewhere private?”

His brow furrowed, but he nodded, following you out into the hallway. Once the door closed behind you, he turned to face you, his arms still crossed. “What is it?”

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. “Logan… I found something in the files we recovered.”

His jaw tightened. “What kind of somethin’?”

“It’s about Laura.”

At the mention of her name, his posture stiffened, his eyes narrowing slightly. “What about her?”

You hesitated, unsure how to phrase it without overwhelming him. “They used your DNA to create her. She’s… she’s your daughter, Logan. Or as close to one as she can be.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, the weight of your words sinking in. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

You reached into your bag, pulling out a printed copy of the relevant section of Laura’s file and handing it to him. “It’s all here. She was part of their experiments—Transigen used your DNA as the base for hers.”

Logan scanned the page, his grip tightening as he read. His breathing grew heavier, his shoulders rising and falling with each exhale. “They… they did this to her? To me?”

“Logan,” you said softly, stepping closer. “She’s been through so much already, but she’s here now. She’s safe. And she’s looking to you, whether she realizes it or not.”

He let the paper fall to his side, his eyes distant. “She’s just a kid,” he muttered, almost to himself. “A kid who didn’t ask for any of this.”

“No, she didn’t,” you agreed. “But she’s here now. And she needs someone she can trust.”

Logan’s gaze met yours, and for a moment, you saw the conflict in his eyes—the fear, the anger, and something softer, something that made your chest ache.

“What the hell am I supposed to do, Y/N?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your chest tightened at the vulnerability in his tone. Logan was always the rock—the one who took the hits and kept standing. Seeing him this unsure, this raw, was rare. You reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

“She doesn’t need you to have all the answers right now, Logan,” you said softly. “She just needs to know she’s safe, that someone’s there for her. That someone cares.”

He let out a heavy breath, his shoulders sagging slightly. “What if I mess this up? What if I can’t be what she needs?”

“You won’t mess this up,” you reassured him, squeezing his arm. “You’ve always been good at protecting the people you care about. And she’s already looking to you—even if she doesn’t know it yet. You just have to show her she’s not alone.”

Logan looked away, his jaw clenching. “She’s been through hell, Y/N. I don’t even know where to start.”

“Start small,” you suggested. “Be present. Talk to her, even if she doesn’t talk back. Let her see that you’re not going anywhere.”

He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “This is… it’s a lot.”

“I know,” you said gently. “But you’re not in this alone. I’ll be here to help, and so will the rest of the team. You don’t have to do this by yourself.”

Logan looked back at you, his expression softening just a fraction. “Thanks, darlin’. I mean it.”

You gave him a small smile. “She’s waiting for you. Go sit with her for a bit. Even if you don’t say much, it’ll mean a lot to her.”

He hesitated for a moment before nodding. Without another word, he turned and walked back into the med bay.

You watched him go, your heart heavy with a mix of emotions. You knew this wouldn’t be easy for him—or for Laura—but if anyone could handle this, it was Logan. He’d faced more than his share of battles, and this one, though different, was just as important.

---

Later that day, after Rogue and Jubilee finished setting up rooms for the kids, you walked Laura to hers. She stayed close to your side, her small hand gripping the hem of your sleeve. The quiet of the hallway felt heavy, but you didn’t push her to speak. She wasn’t ready, and you understood that.

“This is your room,” you said softly, opening the door to a cozy space with a twin bed, a small desk, and a chair by the window. Jubilee had left a few stuffed animals on the bed, hoping to make it feel less clinical.

Laura stepped inside, her eyes scanning the room like she was assessing it for threats. She still hadn’t let go of your sleeve.

“It’s just you in here,” you said, crouching to her level. “No one will bother you unless you want them to. You’re safe.”

She glanced at you, her dark eyes searching your face. The intensity of her gaze always caught you off guard—there was so much there for someone so young.

“You can stay here for as long as you want,” you continued, your voice gentle. “No one’s going to make you leave.”

Laura finally let go of your sleeve but didn’t step away. Instead, she reached out and tugged lightly at the edge of your glasses, her expression softening with curiosity.

“Careful,” you said with a small smile. “I kind of need those to see.”

Her lips twitched, just a hint of a smile, but she said nothing.

“Do you want me to stay for a bit?” you asked, tilting your head.

She nodded quickly, her grip shifting to your hand this time.

“Okay,” you said, letting her lead you to the bed. She climbed onto it, sitting cross-legged, while you settled beside her.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, the soft hum of the mansion filling the quiet. Laura reached for one of the stuffed animals—a small, floppy bunny—and turned it over in her hands like she wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.

“You can keep it,” you said. “Or any of the others. They’re yours now.”

She hesitated before hugging the rabbit to her chest.

“You know,” you started, keeping your tone light, “when I first came here, I was scared too. It felt like… too much all at once. But then I realized everyone here wanted to help me. No one’s going to hurt you here, Laura. I promise.”

Her gaze flicked to you at the sound of her name, but she didn’t speak. You didn’t mind. This kind of trust took time, and you’d give her as much of it as she needed.

---

Over the next few days, Laura continued to follow you around with the new addition of the stuffed grey bunny in her arms.

You picked Laura up and set her on the stool at the kitchen island, grabbing a bowl, a box of cereal, and the gallon of milk. After pouring her a generous serving of cereal and adding just the right amount of milk, you slid the bowl across the island to her. Laura hesitated for a moment, her dark eyes darting between you and the bowl, before reaching out to pull it closer. The grey bunny she’d been carrying for days was perched protectively on her lap, its floppy ears tucked neatly under her arm.

“You’re getting the hang of this place,” you said lightly, leaning against the counter as you watched her. “Cereal’s a favorite around here. Easy, no cooking required. Even Logan eats it sometimes.”

Laura didn’t respond, but her eyes flickered up to you briefly before she dipped her spoon into the bowl.

You let the silence linger, knowing she wasn’t ready to talk yet. That was okay. Her comfort mattered more than filling the quiet. She’d been through so much, and pushing her to open up too soon would only make things harder for her.

The sound of footsteps drew your attention, and Logan entered the kitchen, his gaze immediately landing on Laura. He gave a slight nod, acknowledging her presence, before looking at you. “She eatin’?” he asked, his voice low.

You nodded. “She’s doing okay.”

Logan’s brows furrowed, his eyes lingering on Laura as she carefully scooped another spoonful of cereal into her mouth. He looked out of place in the brightly lit kitchen, his rugged demeanor a sharp contrast to the homey atmosphere. But when his gaze softened just a fraction as he watched Laura, something in your chest tightened.

“She’s stickin’ close to you,” he murmured, stepping closer so only you could hear.

“She feels safe,” you replied, keeping your voice equally quiet. “It’s not surprising after what she’s been through.”

Logan grunted, a sound that could’ve meant anything, but his eyes didn’t leave Laura. “She always hold onto that thing?” He nodded toward the bunny in Laura’s lap.

“Everywhere she goes,” you said with a small smile. “Jubilee left it on her bed the first night. It’s hers now.”

Logan crossed his arms, leaning against the counter beside you. “She talk to you yet?”

You shook your head. “Not yet. But she’ll get there. It’s only been a few days. She’s still figuring out who to trust.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and he looked down at his boots. “What if she doesn’t?”

“She will,” you said firmly, nudging his arm with your elbow. “She’s already trusting you more than you realize. She watches you, Logan. When you’re in the room, her eyes are on you. She might not say it, but she sees you.”

His gaze flicked to you, a storm of emotions swirling in his eyes. You leaned forward and kissed his cheek before stepping away to make your tea. Logan stayed where he was, arms crossed, watching you move about the kitchen.

“You know,” he said after a moment, his voice gruff, “it doesn’t get easier, lettin’ people in. Never has for me.”

You stirred honey into your tea, the soft clink of the spoon the only sound for a moment. “You don’t have to figure it all out at once, Logan. She’s just a kid. She doesn’t need perfect—just someone who’s there.”

He sighed heavily and leaned against the counter, his fingers drumming against the edge. “Yeah, well, ‘there’ ain’t somethin’ I’ve always been good at.”

You turned to face him, cradling the warm mug in your hands. “But you are now. You’re here, Logan. That’s what matters.”

---

“Do you mind if I do some tests, Laura?” Jean asked. “I just need a few blood samples and a quick scan. Is that okay?”

Laura didn’t move for a moment before nodding, her eyes shifting toward you where you stood at the far side of the med bay. Her grip on the bunny in her lap tightened as she glanced between you and Jean, her expression unchanging but her intent clear.

You hesitated, understanding immediately what she wanted. She didn’t say a word, but you could feel the unspoken plea in her gaze.

“Hang on,” you said softly, stepping closer. Jean glanced at you with a knowing look as you moved to Laura’s side.

“You want me to stay here with you?” you asked gently, crouching so you were at her eye level. Laura gave a small nod, her dark hair falling into her face as she held the stuffed bunny closer to her chest.

“Okay,” you said, offering a reassuring smile. “I’ll stay.”

Jean set down the tablet she was holding, her tone calm and steady. “That’s perfectly fine, Laura. Y/N can stay with you while we run a couple of tests. I’ll be quick, and you won’t feel much.”

You pulled up a chair next to the exam table, close enough for Laura to feel your presence but giving her space. She kept her eyes on you, her small hand reaching out to lightly touch the sleeve of your shirt. You placed your hand over hers briefly, giving it a light squeeze before letting go.

“You’re really brave, you know,” you said quietly as Jean prepared the equipment. “This is just a little check-up, and then we’ll be done. You’re doing great.”

Laura didn’t respond, but her grip on the bunny relaxed slightly.

Jean’s voice was gentle as she approached with a syringe. “Laura, I’m just going to take a tiny bit of blood from your arm. It’ll be over before you know it.”

Laura stiffened at the sight of the needle, her knuckles whitening as she clutched the stuffed bunny.

“Hey,” you said softly, leaning closer to her. “Look at me, not the needle, okay?”

Her eyes darted back to yours, and you gave her an encouraging smile. “That’s it. Just focus on me. We’ll be done before you know it.”

Jean worked quickly and efficiently, the needle in and out of Laura’s arm within seconds. “All done,” she said, capping the syringe and stepping back. “You did great.”

Laura didn’t look away from you until Jean had moved the equipment aside. Her body relaxed by fractions, though she still stayed close, her expression guarded.

“See?” you said with a warm smile. “Told you it’d be quick.”

Jean knelt beside her, a gentle look on her face. “Laura, I’m going to do a quick scan of your vitals now. It’s just a machine—it won’t hurt at all. Is that okay?”

Laura hesitated, then nodded slightly, her eyes flicking to you again.

“I’ll stay right here,” you assured her.

The scanner emitted a low hum as Jean moved it over Laura’s body, checking for injuries or abnormalities. Laura stayed perfectly still, her trust placed solely in you to keep her grounded.

When Jean finished, she offered a smile. “You’re all set, Laura. You’re perfectly healthy, just like I thought.”

Laura didn’t react immediately, but she turned slightly to face you, her hand still brushing the fabric of your sleeve.

“You did amazing,” you said softly. “I’m proud of you.”

Jean rose to her feet, giving you both a gentle smile. “I’ll give you two some space. If you need me, I’ll be just outside.”

Once the door clicked shut, you turned back to Laura. “See? Nothing to it.”

Laura tilted her head, her expression unreadable as she studied you. Finally, she moved the bunny onto her lap and tugged at the edge of your glasses again.

“You like messing with these, huh?” you said, adjusting them back into place with a small laugh. “I don’t know if they suit me, but I can’t see much without them.”

Her lips twitched—just the faintest hint of a smile—as she dropped her hand.

As Jean walked out of the room, she found Logan leaning against the wall just outside, his arms crossed and his expression neutral—though there was a flicker of concern in his eyes. He straightened slightly as she approached.

“How’d it go?” he asked, his voice gruff but quieter than usual.

Jean glanced back toward the med bay door before answering. “She did great. A little nervous, but Y/N stayed with her the whole time. Helped keep her calm.”

Logan nodded, his gaze shifting toward the closed door. “She say anything?”

Jean shook her head. “Not yet. But it’s not surprising, considering what she’s been through. It’ll take time.”

Logan let out a low grunt, running a hand over his face. “She’s got good instincts, though. Trusts Y/N already.”

Jean smiled faintly. “Can’t blame her for that. Y/N has a way of making people feel safe.” Her tone softened as she added, “She’s good with the kids. Always has been.”

Logan’s lips twitched, almost like he wanted to smile, but the weight of the situation held it back. “Yeah. She’s got a gift for it.”

Jean studied him for a moment, her brow furrowing slightly. “How are you holding up with all of this? I know it’s a lot, Logan.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, his jaw tightening. “Ain’t about me. It’s about makin’ sure these kids are okay.”

Jean nodded, though she didn’t look entirely convinced. “Well, if you need to talk—”

“I’m fine,” he cut in, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Just want to make sure Laura’s got what she needs.”

Jean held up her hands in a placating gesture. “Fair enough. I’ll let you know if I learn anything else. For now, she’s physically fine, which is a relief.”

Logan gave a curt nod, his attention drifting back to the med bay door. After a beat, he pushed off the wall. “Think I’ll check in on ‘em.”

Jean stepped aside, watching him with a knowing look as he walked into the room.

Inside, you were still seated next to Laura, who now had her bunny balanced carefully on her knees. She didn’t look up immediately when Logan entered, but her posture stiffened slightly, and her eyes darted toward the door.

“You doin’ okay, darlin’?” Logan asked, his tone softer than usual as he directed the question at you.

You glanced over your shoulder at him, offering a small smile. “Yeah, we’re good. Jean finished up, and Laura was a champ.” Turning back to the girl, you added, “Weren’t you?”

Laura didn’t respond verbally, but her grip on the bunny eased just a little.

Logan moved closer, crouching down so he was at eye level with her. “Y’know,” he said, his voice low and steady, “I’ve seen a lot of tough people in my time. You’re up there with the best of ‘em.”

Laura’s eyes flicked to his face, studying him for a moment before her focus returned to the bunny.

Logan didn’t push, instead glancing at you. “She give you any trouble?”

You shook your head. “None at all. She just needed a little reassurance. Right, Laura?”

The girl hesitated before giving the faintest nod.

Logan’s gaze softened, though he didn’t say anything. After a moment, he reached out, his hand resting lightly on the edge of the table. “You let me or Y/N know if you need anything, alright? You’re not alone anymore.”

Laura’s eyes lingered on him briefly before shifting back to you. She seemed to take comfort in your presence, her shoulders relaxing just a fraction more.

“She’s already made a lot of progress,” you said quietly, looking at Logan. “It’s just going to take time.”

Logan nodded, his eyes never leaving Laura. “Yeah. Time.” He straightened up, resting a hand on your shoulder briefly before stepping back. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”

As he left, Laura reached out again, tugging lightly at the sleeve of your shirt. You turned back to her, giving her a warm smile. “You’re doing so well, Laura. One step at a time, okay?”

She didn’t say anything, but for the first time, she didn’t look away. Instead, she leaned ever so slightly toward you, the bunny still cradled in her lap.

---

During the night, while Logan lay on his side of the bed with you tucked against him, the quiet creak of the bedroom door broke the silence. Logan’s senses pricked immediately. He shifted slightly, his eyes opening just enough to spot a small figure in the dim light. Laura.

She padded softly toward your side of the bed, her stuffed bunny clutched tightly in one hand. She paused near you, standing still for a long moment as if debating what to do. Normally, you would’ve stirred by now—your light sleeping had made you the first to notice her during previous nights. But tonight, you were sound asleep, your steady breathing undisturbed.

Laura hesitated, taking a small step back as if deciding to leave. Logan’s low, gravelly voice broke the quiet, gentle but firm enough to catch her attention.

“You wanna come over here, kid?”

Laura froze, her eyes flicking toward him. For a moment, she didn’t move, her expression unreadable in the dim light. Logan stayed where he was, his tone soft but not insistent. “It’s alright. You can come here if you want.”

After a long pause, Laura nodded just slightly, the movement almost imperceptible. Slowly, she made her way around the bed to his side. Logan sat up slightly, offering her his hand. “C’mere,” he said, his voice steady.

She hesitated again before taking his hand. Logan helped her climb up onto the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. Laura settled beside him, her stuffed bunny still clutched tightly. She didn’t say anything, but her posture was tense, her small body rigid as she perched near him.

Logan glanced at her, his rough exterior softening in a way he reserved for only a select few. “Nightmare?” he asked quietly.

Laura nodded, her grip on the bunny tightening. Logan didn’t press for details; he simply shifted slightly, giving her space but staying close enough to offer reassurance. After a moment, Laura leaned against him cautiously, her small frame relaxing just a fraction.

The two of them sat in silence, the room dim and still. Logan rested a hand lightly on the bed near her, careful not to overwhelm her. After some time, the tension in Laura’s body eased further, and she leaned into him fully, her head resting against his chest. Logan’s arm settled around her, his movements slow and unhurried, as if afraid to spook her.

Gradually, Laura’s breathing evened out, and she drifted into sleep. Logan stayed awake for a while longer, his hand resting protectively on her back as he listened to the steady rhythm of her breathing.

---

When you woke the next morning, the first thing you noticed was the warmth beside you. Turning over with a sleepy yawn, you were met with a sight that made your heart ache in the best way.

Laura was curled up against Logan, her small body tucked securely against his chest. Her bunny was still clutched in one hand, and Logan’s arm was draped loosely around her, holding her close. Both of them were sound asleep, their breathing synchronized.

You couldn’t help but smile at the scene, your heart swelling with an overwhelming sense of love and tenderness. For a moment, you simply watched them, unwilling to disturb the quiet peace of the moment.

Finally, you reached out gently, brushing a hand over Logan’s arm. His eyes opened slowly, his gaze immediately meeting yours. He gave you a small, tired smile before glancing down at Laura, still nestled against him.

“She had a nightmare,” he murmured, his voice low to avoid waking her.

You nodded, your voice just as soft. “And she came to find us.”

Logan’s lips twitched slightly. “Yeah. Guess she’s startin’ to trust us.”

“She already trusts you,” you said warmly, your eyes lingering on the two of them. “That’s obvious.”

Logan didn’t respond, but the faintest hint of emotion flickered across his face. He glanced down at Laura again, his hand gently brushing over her hair in a protective gesture.

“She’s just a kid,” he said quietly after a moment, his voice heavy with unspoken thoughts.

You placed a hand over his, giving it a light squeeze. “She’s safe with us, Logan. She’ll figure that out in time.”

He nodded, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “Yeah. She will.”

---

While the team fought in the Danger Room, you took up your usual spot observing from the deck, keeping an eye on the controls.

Laura was with you, sitting on your lap with her stuffed bunny as you observed the Danger Room training session from the control deck. Her small hands gripped the bunny tightly as her eyes followed the action below, her focus intense. Despite how quiet she was, you could feel how closely she was watching everything—soaking in the details of every move the team made.

“Pretty cool, huh?” you said softly, glancing down at her. Laura didn’t respond, but her grip on the bunny loosened a bit as her dark eyes flicked up to yours for a brief moment.

You leaned back slightly in the chair, your hand resting on the edge of the console. “This is where we train to use our abilities,” you explained, gesturing toward the simulated battle below. “It helps keep everyone safe out there in the real world.”

Laura’s gaze drifted to your hand and then back to the training floor. She fidgeted slightly, her brow furrowing, before her hand tugged lightly at the fabric of your sleeve.

“What’s up?” you asked gently, tilting your head to look at her.

She hesitated for a long moment, clutching her bunny to her chest before reaching out tentatively. She pointed at the scene below, where Scott and Storm were sparring, then back at you. Her silent question hung in the air: what about you?

You smiled softly, understanding what she was trying to ask. “Me?” you said, tapping your chest lightly. “I’ve got abilities too.”

Laura shifted on your lap, watching you closely now. Her intensity was unwavering, and it was clear she wanted you to explain.

“Well,” you began, keeping your tone light but sincere, “I can control time. Kind of like pressing pause or rewind on a movie—except it’s real life.” You held up a hand, flexing your fingers slowly. “I don’t use it much unless I really need to. It’s not the kind of thing you show off unless it’s important.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, as if trying to piece together what that meant. Her small fingers toyed with the ear of her stuffed bunny as she continued to stare.

“Here,” you said softly, leaning forward. “I can show you something small. Just watch.”

You reached for the pen on the console in front of you and gave it a light push, letting it roll toward the edge. Before it could fall, you lifted your hand subtly, pausing time just long enough to stop its descent mid-air. Laura’s sharp eyes widened as she noticed the pen floating in place. With a small wave of your hand, time resumed, and the pen clattered onto the floor.

She turned her gaze back to you, her expression still guarded but undeniably curious.

“See? Nothing too flashy, but it’s handy,” you said with a warm smile. “I promise I’ll teach you all about it someday if you want.”

Laura blinked, tilting her head as though considering your words. Then she did something that caught you off guard—she leaned forward slightly and tugged the fabric of your sleeve closer, resting her head briefly against your arm before pulling back. It wasn’t much, but you could feel the quiet trust forming between the two of you.

You placed a hand lightly on her back. “You’re safe here,” you said softly. “You’re part of our family now.”

Her lips pressed into a firm line, but she didn’t pull away from your touch. If anything, she seemed to lean just a little closer.

Below, Logan stepped off the mat after wrapping up his turn in the Danger Room, his eyes immediately finding yours up on the observation deck. He gave a small nod, the corners of his mouth twitching in what might’ve been a smile. You waved slightly, letting him know everything was fine.

Laura turned her head slightly, catching the exchange, but she didn’t react. Instead, she leaned back against your chest, the bunny tucked securely in her arms.

“You’re doing great, Laura,” you murmured, keeping your voice low and reassuring. “One step at a time, right?”

She didn’t reply, but the faintest hint of a smile flickered on her face. It wasn’t much, but it was progress. And for now, that was more than enough.

---

You decided to grade papers in your classroom over your office, giving Laura the ability to look at and mess around with things around the room, like right now with your laser pointer.

Rogue and Jubilee were in your classroom as well, though they weren’t your students anymore they sometimes came by to check in or hang out.

Laura pointed the laser at Jubilee, the red dot landing squarely on her hand as the younger mutant gestured animatedly. Jubilee paused mid-sentence, her eyes catching the red dot. With a dramatic gasp, she looked up at Laura, who sat perched on your lap, her face as impassive as ever.

"Is that... a laser pointer?" Jubilee asked, grinning as she held up her hand to ‘catch’ the dot. She waved her fingers back and forth, moving it like a cat trying to catch a toy.

You glanced down at Laura, whose small hand gripped the pointer tightly. Her dark eyes flicked from Jubilee’s hand to her face, her expression unreadable. A faint twitch of her lips might’ve been amusement—or just concentration.

“Laura,” you said softly, an affectionate lilt in your voice, “are you messing with Jubilee?”

Laura glanced at you briefly before pointing the laser at Rogue instead, the red dot landing on her shoulder. Rogue turned her head, furrowing her brow as she noticed.

“What the—?” Rogue swatted at the dot, looking up toward you with a raised eyebrow. “Y/N, is this your doing?”

You smiled, shaking your head. “Not me. Looks like Laura’s having some fun.”

Rogue chuckled softly, folding her arms as she leaned against the edge of your desk. “Well, she’s got good aim. Better than most adults I know.”

Laura tilted her head slightly, as if acknowledging the compliment, before turning off the laser and tucking it into her pocket. Her eyes shifted between Rogue and Jubilee, lingering on them with quiet curiosity.

“She’s sizing us up,” Jubilee teased, wiggling her fingers dramatically at Laura. “What’re you thinking, kid? Who’s cooler—me or Rogue?”

“Not a fair competition,” Rogue said with a playful smirk. “We all know I’d win.”

Laura didn’t respond, her gaze darting between the two women. Then, she tugged gently at your sleeve, her silent signal that she wanted your attention.

“What’s up?” you asked, leaning slightly to meet her gaze.

Laura pointed at Rogue, her finger steady as she tapped the air. Then she pointed at Jubilee. Her expression was serious, her question clear even without words: what are their powers?

You smiled at her perceptiveness, then looked up at the two women. “She wants to know about your abilities.”

Jubilee’s face lit up. “Oh, now this is my kind of conversation.” She raised her hands, conjuring a burst of multicolored sparks that crackled and popped like tiny fireworks. “I make things go boom. Pretty cool, huh?”

Laura’s eyes widened slightly, her interest unmistakable. She leaned forward just a touch, watching the sparks fizzle out in Jubilee’s hands.

Rogue smiled softly, lowering her gloves to reveal her bare hands. “Mine’s a little different,” she said, her tone gentler. “When I touch someone, I absorb their powers, memories—everything. It’s a lot, but it’s helped me save a life or two.”

Laura’s gaze lingered on Rogue’s hands before shifting back to her face. She tilted her head, her brow furrowing slightly as if processing this new information.

“She’s just curious,” you said, running a hand lightly over Laura’s back. “She’s still getting used to all of this.”

“Totally understandable,” Jubilee said, leaning against the desk. “It’s a lot for anyone, let alone a kid.”

Rogue nodded. “She’s got instincts, though. You can tell she’s sharp.”

Laura’s hand moved to the laser pointer in her pocket again, her fingers brushing over it absentmindedly. You could feel the faint tension in her body, the way she stayed close to you, as if you were her anchor in this unfamiliar environment.

Jubilee crouched slightly, her tone warm and playful. “Hey, Laura. If you ever wanna learn how to make stuff explode, let me know. I’ve got the best fireworks tutorial in the mansion.”

Laura’s lips twitched—just barely—but she didn’t pull away or retreat, which was progress in itself. You gave her a reassuring squeeze, your heart swelling with quiet pride at how far she’d come in such a short time.

---

Laura was good at cards. One night, while the team gathered around in the common room, Rogue asked Laura if she would like Remy to teach her how to play cards. Logan resisted but gave in when Laura willingly left your side to sit by Rogue as Remy taught her.

Laura sat cross-legged on the floor, her small figure hunched over the deck of cards as Remy dealt another round. The room hummed with conversation, laughter, and the occasional clink of mugs, but Laura seemed entirely focused on the game. Her dark eyes scanned the cards in her hand, her face giving nothing away.

You watched from the couch, glasses perched on your nose as you graded a stack of physics tests. Logan sat beside you, his arm draped across the back of the couch, his attention split between Laura and the hockey game playing on the TV.

“She’s got him sweatin’,” Logan muttered, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

You glanced over, catching the way Remy’s usually confident demeanor had shifted. He leaned forward slightly, shuffling the cards in his hand as he studied Laura with newfound caution. Rogue stood nearby, arms crossed, watching the game with a soft, amused smile.

“Alright, petite,” Remy said, tapping his cards on the table. “Let’s see what you got.”

Laura set her cards down with deliberate precision, revealing a winning hand. A small murmur of approval rippled through the room as she calmly collected the pile of coins and trinkets in the center of the table—among them, Remy’s fancy pen and his lucky die.

“Mon dieu,” Remy muttered, running a hand through his hair. “This one’s ruthless.”

“She’s just playin’ smart,” Rogue teased, nudging him lightly with her elbow. “Don’t get all huffy just ‘cause a kid’s got the better of you.”

Logan chuckled under his breath, leaning back. “She’s got instincts. You should’ve seen her figure out poker a few weeks ago. Took Jubilee’s snacks, too.”

You couldn’t help but smile, setting your pen down for a moment. Laura’s serious expression hadn’t changed, but you could see the faintest glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes as she added her winnings to a small pile beside her.

“Alright, that’s it,” Remy said, holding up his hands. “I’m out before I lose my coat. Ain’t no beatin’ you, petite.”

Laura glanced at him briefly, her expression unreadable as she shifted the cards into a neat pile. She looked over at Rogue, then at you, as if gauging her next move.

“Nice haul,” you said, your tone warm and encouraging. “You’re really good at this.”

She looked at you for a moment, then nodded, the faintest hint of pride in her posture as she pocketed the pen and die. You felt Logan’s hand squeeze your shoulder gently, his way of silently sharing the moment with you.

Rogue crouched down beside Laura, her tone light. “You gonna go easy on me if I play a round with you, or you takin’ me for everything I’ve got, too?”

Laura tilted her head slightly, considering, before holding out the deck of cards toward Rogue. It wasn’t a verbal answer, but it was as close to an invitation as anyone could get.

“She’s got the hang of this place,” Logan murmured, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “Good thing, too. She’s tough, but it’s nice seein’ her relax some.”

You glanced at him, your heart warming at the rare softness in his tone. “She’s not just tough,” you replied quietly, watching as Laura dealt the cards with practiced efficiency. “She’s brilliant. Just needs time to find her rhythm.”

Logan leaned in slightly, brushing a kiss against your temple. “She’ll get there. She’s got you, after all.”

Before you could respond, Jubilee’s voice cut through the room, dramatic as ever. “Alright, who’s ready for movie night? We’re watching Spaceballs and there’s popcorn in the kitchen!”

Logan groaned, but there was no real complaint in it. “Again? Don’t you kids know any other movies?”

“It’s a classic, Logan!” Jubilee countered, grabbing a handful of popcorn and tossing a piece his way. “You just don’t appreciate art.”

Laura, seemingly disinterested in the commotion, finished dealing the cards for Rogue, then looked back toward you. You smiled at her, your expression full of encouragement. She stayed where she was, content to be in her little circle for now, but you noticed her eyes linger on you for just a moment longer than usual.

---

Logan stood outside, leaning against the wall as he watched you show Laura the different trees in the yard, while the other kids ran about playing games or just relaxing under the shade.

Ororo and Jean both came over to him, one of them standing on each side of Logan. Jean spoke first, “you’re jealous.” She teased.

Logan didn’t look over at her, “I’m not jealous.”

Ororo hummed, “oh, yeah? Is that why you got all pouty when Y/N took Laura to the mall the other day and didn’t invite you?”

Logan scowled but didn’t look away from the scene in front of him. You were crouched next to a tree, pointing at something on the bark while Laura stood beside you, her head tilted in curiosity. The other kids were scattered around the yard, laughing and playing, but Laura stayed close to you, her small frame almost rigid.

“I didn’t pout,” Logan muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.

Jean grinned, leaning her shoulder into him. “You totally pouted. You didn’t even talk to anyone during dinner that night.”

“That’s just Logan,” Ororo teased. “Quiet brooding is his default.”

Logan shot them both a look. “I don’t brood.”

Jean smirked. “Whatever you say, Logan.”

The three of them stood in companionable silence for a moment, watching as you moved to another tree with Laura trailing behind. Her little hand brushed against yours, and you instinctively reached down, linking your fingers loosely with hers. Logan’s expression softened, though he didn’t realize it.

“She’s attached to Y/N,” Ororo said softly, her gaze warm. “It’s sweet.”

“She’s attached ‘cause Y/N gets her,” Logan replied, his voice quieter than usual. “Knows when to give her space and when to be close. Most people don’t figure that out with Laura.”

Jean tilted her head, studying Logan’s face. “And you? You okay with sharing Y/N?”

Logan frowned, but there was no real bite in it. “Ain’t about sharing. It’s about what’s best for Laura. Kid’s been through hell. If this helps her feel... safe, then I’m all for it.”

Jean exchanged a quick glance with Ororo, both of them smiling knowingly. “You’re a softie, Logan,” Jean teased.

“Don’t push it,” Logan grumbled, though his tone lacked any real edge.

Meanwhile, you crouched down again, pointing at a patch of moss growing at the base of a tree. Laura crouched beside you, mimicking your posture. Her dark eyes flickered between your face and the moss, her attention unwavering.

“See how it’s growing on this side?” you asked gently, keeping your voice low. “That’s because it gets more shade over here. Plants like this need to stay cool and moist to grow.”

Laura nodded slowly, reaching out to touch the moss with a tentative finger. You smiled, glancing over your shoulder toward the mansion. Your eyes met Logan’s for a brief second, and he gave you a small nod. It wasn’t much, but it carried a lot: approval, gratitude, and maybe something a little softer.

Ororo elbowed him lightly. “You’re staring.”

“Am not.”

Jean laughed. “You totally are. And it’s adorable.”

Logan groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. “You two gonna keep yappin’ or let me enjoy some peace and quiet?”

“Peace and quiet?” Ororo echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Logan, you’re literally surrounded by kids.”

Before he could retort, Laura stood up and turned to look at him. She didn’t say anything—she never did—but her gaze was steady, almost challenging. After a beat, she reached out and tugged at your sleeve, silently signaling she wanted to go inside.

You stood up, brushing dirt off your hands. “Ready to head back?”

Laura nodded once, her grip on your sleeve tightening slightly. You gave her a reassuring smile, then looked back at Logan. “We’re going in. Coming with?”

He shrugged, pushing off the wall. “Yeah, why not?”

Jean and Ororo exchanged amused looks as Logan followed you and Laura inside. When the door closed behind you, Ororo shook her head with a grin. “He’s a goner.”

Jean laughed. “Completely.”

---

As you and Laura walked down the main stairway, a knock from the front door reverberated through the mansion. Laura immediately grew tense, her fists clenching.

“Hey, it’s okay. Let’s see who it is,” you said, your voice calm as you moved toward the front door. Laura stayed close behind, her small frame tense, her eyes darting toward the windows as if assessing possible threats. You placed a hand on the doorknob, glancing back at her. “It’s probably nothing to worry about.”

Laura didn’t respond, but her fingers twitched, brushing against her side where her claws often unsheathed in moments of anxiety. You opened the door slowly, peering through the small crack.

“Oh, Peter!” you exclaimed, opening the door fully to reveal the young man standing on the porch in his Spider-Man suit. He was taller than when you last saw him, his lanky frame filling out slightly, though he still looked like the same awkward, wide-eyed kid you remembered. “You’ve gotten a bit taller in a year.”

Peter pulled off his mask, revealing a sheepish grin. “Yeah, uh… puberty’s a thing, I guess.” He scratched the back of his head, glancing past you into the mansion. “Hope it’s okay I stopped by. I was in the area and figured—”

“Of course it’s okay,” you interrupted warmly, stepping aside to let him in. “You’re always welcome here.”

Peter stepped inside, his eyes immediately falling on Laura, who was standing half-hidden behind you. Her sharp gaze was fixed on him, her posture defensive. Peter paused, his grin faltering slightly as he raised his hands in a mock gesture of surrender.

“Uh… hi?” he tried, his voice unsure. “I’m Peter. You must be… Laura?”

She didn’t respond, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied him. You placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, giving her a reassuring squeeze.

“This is Peter Parker,” you explained softly, glancing down at her. “He’s a friend of ours.”

Laura’s gaze flicked to you, then back to Peter. She didn’t move or speak, but some of the tension in her shoulders eased.

Peter offered a nervous laugh. “Wow, tough crowd. It’s nice to meet you, though. I’ve, uh, heard a lot about you. Good things! Really good things.”

Laura tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable as she continued to size him up. Then she jerked her wrist once before pointing at Peter.

“I think she wants to see your webs,” you said, glancing down at Laura with a small smile. Her dark eyes remained fixed on Peter, her expression blank but her body tense, like a coiled spring.

Peter’s grin returned, albeit a little nervously. “Oh, yeah? Well, I can definitely do that. Hold on.” He flexed his fingers, then quickly flicked his wrist, sending a thin, shimmering strand of webbing across the room. It stuck to the far wall with a soft thwip, and he gave it a playful tug.

Laura’s head tilted slightly, her focus narrowing on the web as though she were analyzing its structure. Her fingers twitched again, though whether it was from curiosity or a reflexive urge to defend herself, you couldn’t quite tell.

“Cool, right?” Peter said, his tone a little more confident now. He released the web, letting it dissolve as he looked back at her. “I can swing through the city with these. It’s like… uh, instant transportation but way scarier and more fun.”

Laura finally moved, taking a single step closer, her gaze darting from Peter’s face to his hands. She pointed at the spot on the wall where the web had landed, then back at him.

“You wanna see it again?” Peter asked. He mimicked her pointing gesture, earning a faint twitch of her lips—almost a smile but not quite. “Okay, okay, one more.”

He aimed at the ceiling this time, sending a longer strand upward. The webbing clung to the chandelier, and Peter gave a mock swing to demonstrate, though he didn’t actually leave the ground. “Ta-da!” he said, gesturing dramatically.

Laura took another step forward, stopping a few feet in front of him. She didn’t look at you for reassurance, which was something; instead, she raised her hand and pointed again, this time at his wrist.

“Oh, you wanna see where it comes from?” Peter said, holding up his hand. “It’s, uh, kind of gross, but—oh, wait, not gross! Just… science-y. And cool. Definitely cool.”

He turned his wrist to show her the small, almost-invisible mechanism attached to the underside of his suit’s glove. “See this? It’s my web-shooter. Homemade. Took me forever to get it right, but now it’s pretty solid. I press here—” he gestured to a small trigger, “—and bam. Webs.”

Laura stared at the device for a long moment before looking up at him, her brow furrowed slightly. She pointed at his face, then mimicked putting on a mask.

“Oh, you mean the suit?” Peter said, catching on. “Yeah, I made that too. Well, this version’s had a few upgrades, but the original was all me. Gotta protect the ol’ secret identity, you know?”

You stepped closer, your hand brushing Laura’s shoulder gently. “Peter’s a bit of a genius when it comes to tech,” you said, your voice soft. “He built all of this himself.”

“That’s, uh, kind of an exaggeration,” Peter said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just tinker a lot. Nothing fancy.”

Laura glanced at you briefly, then back at Peter. Finally, she reached out, her movements slow and deliberate, and tapped his wrist where the web-shooter sat.

Peter froze for a second, clearly unsure how to respond. “Oh, uh, you wanna try it?”

Laura pulled her hand back slightly, her expression unreadable.

“It’s okay,” you said gently. “He’s offering.”

Peter carefully unfastened the web-shooter from his wrist and held it out to her. “Here. Just don’t, uh, point it at anyone unless you’re ready to explain why they’re stuck to a wall.”

Laura hesitated, her fingers hovering just above the device before finally taking it from him. She turned it over in her hands, inspecting every detail with the kind of focus that made you wonder if she was mentally deconstructing it piece by piece.

“She’s like a little engineer,” Peter said, his tone full of admiration. “Seriously, I think she’s smarter than me already.”

“She’s definitely got an eye for detail,” you agreed, watching as Laura mimicked the motion Peter had demonstrated, pressing the trigger lightly. A small strand of webbing shot out, landing on the floor. Her head tilted again, and for the first time, you saw the faintest glimmer of curiosity in her expression.

“Not bad,” Peter said, grinning. “You’ve got the hang of it already.”

Laura handed the web-shooter back to him without a word, her movements quick but not abrupt. She looked at you, then gave a single nod, as if to say she’d seen enough.

“You’re a tough critic, huh?” Peter said, reattaching the device to his wrist. “I like that.”

Laura didn’t respond, but her body language had relaxed slightly. You reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “She’s just careful,” you said. “Takes a lot for her to trust someone.”

Peter nodded, his grin softening into something more genuine. “Hey, I get it. It’s cool. No rush or anything. I just wanted to say hi and, uh, not get on her bad side.”

You chuckled, giving Laura’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You did fine, Peter. Thanks for stopping by. It’s always good to see you.”

“Yeah, you too,” he said, pulling his mask back on. He gave a little wave, directing it at Laura. “Nice meeting you, Laura. You’re, uh… pretty awesome.”

Laura watched him go, her expression unreadable again, but you didn’t miss the way her posture stayed a little less guarded, even after the door closed.

---

You and Logan laid on the couch in the common room, with you laying in between his legs, your back against his chest. The TV played A New Hope, which Logan grumbled about at first, until you reminded him that the two of you watched some Western last night.

“It doesn’t make sense why the damn droids—”

You brought a hand up behind you and placed it over Logan's mouth just as R2-D2 and C-3PO landed on Tatooine. He let out a muffled grumble against your palm, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly.

“Logan,” you teased, turning your head slightly to catch his annoyed expression. “You promised no complaints tonight.”

He pulled your hand away gently, smirking as he pressed a kiss to your knuckles. “I just don’t get why those two are so important. They’re just scrap metal on legs.”

“Blasphemy,” you replied, feigning offense. “They’re the heart and soul of Star Wars.”

Logan snorted, muttering something about “weird priorities,” but didn’t argue further. He rested his chin lightly on the top of your head as the movie continued, his arms wrapped securely around your waist.

The peace was interrupted by the sound of small, light footsteps entering the room. You glanced toward the doorway and saw Laura standing there, her stuffed bunny clutched tightly in one hand. She didn’t say anything, of course, just stood there staring at the two of you.

“Hey, kiddo,” you greeted softly, motioning her over. “You wanna join us?”

She hesitated for a moment, her eyes darting between you and Logan before cautiously stepping closer. You sat up slightly and held out your hands, and she climbed onto the couch without a word. Once she was close enough, you gently lifted her and settled her between your legs, her back resting against your chest. Her bunny stayed tucked safely in her arms.

Logan’s eyes softened as he watched, his earlier grumpiness forgotten. He shifted to make more room, one arm draped lazily along the back of the couch.

For the first few minutes, Laura kept her gaze firmly averted from the screen, clearly uninterested. But gradually, you noticed her small head turning slightly, her dark eyes flickering toward the movie as Luke Skywalker wandered the desert. By the time Obi-Wan Kenobi made his first appearance, she was fully focused, her brows furrowed as she took it all in.

“You want me to rewind it?” you asked quietly, glancing down at her. “We’re not that far in.”

Logan groaned immediately. “Aw, come on, darlin’. We already sat through all that desert stuff.”

You gave him a pointed look. “Some of us appreciate the desert stuff.”

Laura looked up at you, then back at the screen. She didn’t say anything, but the way she clung to her bunny suggested she didn’t mind starting over. You took her silence as agreement and reached for the remote.

Logan let his head fall back dramatically. “You’re killin’ me here.”

“You’ll survive,” you said, smirking as you hit the rewind button.

The movie started over, and this time, all three of you watched in relative silence. You occasionally explained a few details to Laura, keeping your voice soft so as not to disturb the atmosphere. Logan offered a few snarky comments here and there, but even he seemed more engaged than he’d admit.

At some point, you noticed Laura’s head drooping, her body leaning more heavily against yours. She was fast asleep by the time the Jawas captured R2-D2, her bunny still clutched tightly in her hands.

You smiled down at her, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “Guess she’s a fan,” you whispered.

Logan glanced over, his expression softening again as he took in the sight of Laura curled up against you. “Looks like it,” he murmured. “Not sure I’m ready for the day she starts quotin’ this stuff at me.”

You chuckled quietly. “You’ll manage.”

A comfortable silence settled over the room. The movie continued to play, but before long, you felt your own eyes growing heavy. Logan’s steady warmth and the soft rhythm of Laura’s breathing made it hard to stay awake. Eventually, you let your head rest against Logan’s chest, your hand resting lightly on Laura’s shoulder.

Logan glanced down, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at his lips as he watched the two of you. He reached for the blanket draped over the back of the couch, carefully pulling it over you and Laura without disturbing either of you.

“Night, darlin’,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Then he leaned back, his eyes on the screen, the soft hum of the movie filling the room as the three of you drifted into a peaceful sleep.

---

“Rogue is an expert decorator, especially when it comes to Christmas.” You explained, carrying Laura on your hip. The mansion was decked out in lights, trees, garland, and glitter. Usually you and Logan would go to the cabin up north, a tradition the two of you have had for the past few years, but since Laura was around the two of you thought it’d be best to stay at the mansion.

Laura pointed up at the ceiling by the common room doorway. “Oh, that’s mistletoe,” you said with a soft smile, adjusting her on your hip. “It’s been a symbol of love and peace for centuries. There’s even a tradition—if two people stand underneath it, they’re supposed to kiss. Then they pick one of the berries.”

Laura’s brow furrowed slightly, her dark eyes flicking to you and then back to the greenery above. She shifted in your arms, clutching her stuffed bunny tightly.

Rogue’s voice called out from the other side of the room, drawing both of your attention. “Hey, Y/N! You think this garland should go along the staircase or the balcony?”

“Staircase,” you replied, moving toward her. “It’ll tie the whole entryway together.”

Rogue grinned, giving you a thumbs-up before going back to work. The mansion was in full holiday mode, with Rogue and you taking charge of most of the decorating. Or, as Rogue called it, “deckin’ the halls until the place practically screams Christmas.”

“Let’s go help,” you said to Laura, setting her down gently. She stuck close, always keeping one hand on your sleeve or your leg as you worked alongside Rogue, hanging ornaments and looping tinsel. Occasionally, you handed Laura a small task, like placing bows on the banister or choosing where a set of lights should go. She performed each task with the same quiet intensity she seemed to bring to everything.

Logan, meanwhile, was in another part of the mansion helping Jubilee sort out the tangled mess of outdoor lights. You could already imagine him grumbling under his breath about the chaos, but you had no doubt Jubilee would keep him in line with her usual brand of bubbly sarcasm.

The day wore on, and as dinner approached, you noticed Laura had disappeared. Your chest tightened briefly at the realization, but you reminded yourself that she’d been feeling safer in the mansion lately and likely wasn’t far.

You didn’t have to wonder long. Just as you moved into the common room, you spotted her, standing in the middle of the doorway under the mistletoe with her arms folded over her chest. Her sharp eyes locked onto you, and then she made a motion with her hand—a beckoning gesture.

You chuckled softly, stepping toward her. “What are you up to?”

She didn’t answer, only raised a finger and pointed toward the mistletoe. Her gaze slid past you, focusing on Logan, who had just entered the room behind you, holding a tangled string of lights.

“What’s this about, kid?” Logan asked, frowning slightly as he stopped beside you.

Laura pointed at the mistletoe again, her expression unyielding. She shifted her stuffed bunny from one arm to the other, and then, for the first time, she opened her mouth.

“Kiss.”

Both you and Logan froze, the single word hanging in the air like a snowflake suspended in time.

You blinked, your gaze snapping to Logan, whose eyes were wide with shock before softening into something warmer, more tender. A grin slowly tugged at the corner of his lips as he glanced between you and Laura.

“Well,” Logan said, his voice quieter than usual, “looks like she’s givin’ orders now.”

Your face warmed, but you couldn’t deny the smile pulling at your lips. “She’s persistent,” you murmured, looking at Laura.

Laura didn’t move, her expression unchanging as she stood her ground beneath the mistletoe, waiting. There was a glint of determination in her eyes, and you realized this wasn’t just her pushing you and Logan into a holiday tradition. It was something more. She was testing boundaries, creating her version of a family moment.

You glanced back at Logan, and his slight nod told you he felt it, too. With an amused sigh, you leaned up on your toes and tilted your face toward him. Logan’s hand came up, brushing against your cheek as he bent his head down to meet your lips in a kiss. It was soft and warm, lingering just a moment longer than you expected.

When you pulled away, the smallest trace of a smile had appeared on Laura’s face. She stepped closer, still clutching her bunny, and Logan reached down, picking her up easily. You grabbed the bunny so her little hands could hold onto Logan’s neck instead.

“Well, what about you, kid?” Logan asked her, his voice unusually gentle. “You gonna get a kiss, too?”

You smiled, leaning in to kiss one of her cheeks as Logan did the same to the other. Laura made a soft sound, something halfway between a giggle and a hum, as her arms wrapped tighter around Logan’s neck.

“Guess she approves,” you said, laughter in your voice as Logan looked at her with a rare softness in his eyes.

“Good,” he rumbled. “’Cause I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

From that point on, the evening felt even more special. Laura stayed close for the rest of the night, her presence a constant reminder of how much your little family had grown. You weren’t just surviving—you were building something new, together.

---

Ever since then, Laura spoke more. Not all the time, but enough.

You also learned that there was one thing her and Logan had in common. Their pranks. One evening, after classes ended, you took a shower and changed into your pajamas, one of Logan’s flannels and your sleep pants, before heading into the kitchen.

Jean offered you a glass of wine, which you accepted gratefully. The kitchen was warm with the smell of freshly baked cookies that Rogue and Jubilee had made earlier. You adjusted your glasses and took a sip, leaning against the counter as Jean filled you in on her day.

“I’m telling you, Scott nearly blew a fuse in the Danger Room today,” Jean said, chuckling softly. “He always forgets how easily Peter can get under his skin.”

You laughed quietly, shaking your head. “Sounds like classic Peter. He never stops pushing buttons.”

Before Jean could respond, the faint sound of whispers and hushed laughter drew your attention toward the hallway. You narrowed your eyes, tilting your head as Logan and Laura entered the room, both looking suspiciously nonchalant.

“Logan,” you said, your tone laced with playful skepticism, “what are you two up to?”

“Us?” Logan asked, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Nothin’. Just makin’ the rounds.”

Laura stood beside him, her stuffed bunny tucked under one arm. Her sharp eyes darted between you and Jean, her lips pressed together in a way that suggested she was trying very hard not to smile.

Jean crossed her arms, her brow raised. “Uh-huh. And why do I get the feeling that ‘making the rounds’ actually means trouble?”

“No idea what you’re talkin’ about,” Logan said, though the mischievous glint in his eyes betrayed him.

Laura shifted on her feet, her free hand tugging at the hem of Logan’s flannel shirt, a silent cue. Logan nodded once before turning his attention back to you and Jean.

“We’ll catch up later, darlin’,” he said, winking at you. “C’mon, kid.”

Laura gave you a brief, almost sheepish glance before following Logan out of the kitchen. You and Jean exchanged a look.

“They’re definitely up to something,” Jean said, smirking.

You sighed, already bracing yourself for whatever chaos was about to unfold. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t involve—”

A sudden shout from the hallway cut you off.

“Logan! Laura!”

Jean burst into laughter as Scott stormed into the kitchen, his visor slightly askew and his face smeared with what appeared to be whipped cream. He pointed an accusatory finger toward the hallway. “Those two little menaces rigged the training console! It blasted me with a—”

“Pie cannon?” Jean finished, laughing so hard she had to set her wine glass down.

You bit back a smile, raising an eyebrow at Scott. “You mean to tell me you didn’t see it coming?”

“It was disguised as a systems diagnostic!” Scott exclaimed, his voice full of indignation. “I spent twenty minutes analyzing the setup, and then—bam!”

From somewhere down the hall, you heard Logan’s deep laughter mingling with Laura’s soft, breathy giggle. Your heart swelled at the sound; it was rare for Laura to laugh so freely, and you knew that moments like these were helping her feel more at home.

Jean wiped tears of laughter from her eyes. “Scott, I hate to say it, but you walked right into that one.”

Scott grumbled something under his breath before turning to leave, muttering about “revenge” as he stomped down the hallway.

You turned back to Jean, shaking your head in amusement. “I should probably go check on them before this escalates.”

Jean grinned, waving you off. “Good luck, Y/N. You’ll need it.”

---

You found Logan and Laura in the rec room, both looking entirely too pleased with themselves. Laura was perched on the arm of the couch, her bunny in her lap, while Logan lounged beside her, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

“You two really couldn’t resist, could you?” you said, crossing your arms as you leaned against the doorway.

“Guy had it comin’,” Logan replied, completely unapologetic. “Been ridin’ me about the outdoor lights all week.”

Laura nodded, her expression serious despite the faint sparkle in her eyes.

You sighed, shaking your head as you walked over to them. “Just… try not to push Scott too far, okay? He’s still the one who has to lead team missions.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Logan said, waving a dismissive hand. But there was a softness in his gaze as he watched you, a quiet warmth that always lingered when you were near.

Laura slid off the couch and moved to your side, her small hand tugging at your sleeve. You looked down at her, and she tilted her head, her expression curious.

“Are you mad?” she asked softly, her voice still carrying the hesitancy she hadn’t yet outgrown.

You knelt down to her level, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “No, sweetheart. I’m not mad. Just making sure you two don’t get into too much trouble.”

Her lips twitched into a small smile, and she leaned in, wrapping her arms around your neck. “Okay.”

Logan watched the exchange, his smirk fading into something more tender. He knew how much you had both longed for a family, and seeing you with Laura reminded him of just how far the two of you had come—not just as a couple, but as a team, a unit. A family.

---

Ever since summer break started, Laura followed you around more often. Without classes to worry about there was logically no reason to be separated.

Logan leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, as Rogue, Kitty, and Jubilee chatted animatedly about their upcoming mall trip. Laura stood close to you, her small hand clutching your skirt. She hadn’t said much, just watched the girls with her usual quiet intensity.

“You wanna go with them?” Logan asked Laura, his voice casual as he nodded toward the girls. “Looks like they’re gonna have a good time.”

Laura glanced up at you, her brow furrowing slightly. “Do you want me to go?”

You knelt down to her level, brushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” you said gently. “You can stay here with me and Logan. Whatever makes you comfortable.”

Logan shot you a look that was equal parts amused and exasperated. “C’mon, kid,” he said to Laura, crouching slightly to meet her eyes. “Could be fun. You’ll get some new clothes, maybe a toy or two. And these three know how to find the best snacks at the food court.”

Kitty grinned. “Oh, for sure. We’ve got the food court mapped out like a treasure hunt.”

Jubilee chimed in. “And we’ll make sure you have fun, Laura. Promise.”

Laura’s gaze flicked between you and Logan, clearly conflicted. You gave her an encouraging smile. “It’s up to you, kiddo. I’ll be right here when you get back.”

Logan’s mouth twitched into a smirk. “You’ll be fine, kid. Go have some fun. You don’t need to be stuck with us old folks all the time.”

Laura hesitated for a moment longer, then nodded. “Okay.”

Rogue extended a hand to her. “Great. Let’s go, little one.”

Laura hesitated just long enough to give you a quick hug before taking Rogue’s hand. As the group headed for the door, you called after her, “have fun, Laura! Be good!”

“Always,” she replied, her voice soft but steady.

The door closed behind them, and the house fell into a rare, peaceful silence. You turned to Logan, who was watching you with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. Before you could say anything, he closed the distance between you in two long strides, scooping you up effortlessly.

“Logan!” you squeaked, laughing as you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck. “What are you doing?”

“Finally got you all to myself,” he said, his tone low and teasing. “Not lettin’ this opportunity go to waste.”

“Logan—”

He silenced you with a quick kiss, his smirk never fading. “Relax, darlin’. You’ve been runnin’ yourself ragged lately. Time to take a break.”

You tried to feign indignation, but his warmth and the way he carried you so easily made it hard to keep a straight face. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me for it,” he shot back, carrying you down the hall toward the bedroom.

By the time he kicked the door shut behind him, you’d given up pretending to be annoyed. Logan set you down gently on the bed, his hands lingering at your waist as he leaned in close. His voice softened, the teasing edge giving way to something more tender.

“Missed this,” he murmured. “Missed you.”

You smiled up at him, your fingers brushing through his hair. “I’m not going anywhere, Logan.”

His gaze darkened slightly, a flicker of something unspoken passing through his eyes. But he didn’t say anything, just kissed you again, his touch reverent, as if grounding himself in the moment. His lips traveled from yours, skimming along your jaw, down your neck. Each kiss was deliberate, like he was marking a path only he knew.

“Logan,” you murmured, your fingers curling in his hair. Your voice carried a soft plea, one he clearly heard as his hands slid down your sides, lifting your shirt over your head. He paused for a moment, his thumbs brushing over your waist, and his eyes roamed over you, filled with something raw and tender all at once.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, his voice thick. “Never get tired of this, darlin’.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You always say that.”

“And I’ll keep sayin’ it,” he shot back, leaning in to press another kiss to the corner of your mouth.

Before you could respond, Logan’s hands moved to the clasp of your bra. But instead of unhooking it, you felt the unmistakable snikt as one of his claws extended. Your breath hitched when he expertly slid the adamantium blade under the fabric, slicing it open with ease. The sound was barely audible over your quickened breathing.

“Logan,” you started, but his mouth was already moving down your body, kissing along your collarbone, then lower. His hands skimmed the straps from your shoulders, and your ruined bra joined your shirt on the floor.

“Hmm?” he hummed, his lips trailing between your breasts. His hands rested on your waist, firm and grounding, while his mouth continued its descent, worshiping every inch of skin he uncovered.

“You… you didn’t have to…” Your protest trailed off into a shiver as his lips pressed against your stomach, his beard scratching just enough to make you gasp.

“Didn’t wanna waste time,” he replied, his voice muffled as he kissed just above the waistband of your skirt. His hands tugged at the fabric, pushing it higher until it bunched around your waist, leaving you in nothing but the small wedge heels you’d forgotten you were wearing.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching him with a mix of anticipation and amusement. “Still fully dressed, huh? Doesn’t seem fair.”

Logan glanced up at you, a wicked smirk tugging at his lips. “Fair? Darlin’, I’m about to spoil you rotten.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat as he gripped your thighs, spreading them apart effortlessly. His lips pressed against the sensitive skin just above the edge of your panties, and you shivered at the heat of his breath.

“Logan,” you breathed, your voice trembling with want.

He looked up at you again, his expression softening for a moment. “I got you,” he said simply.

In one smooth motion, you found yourself straddling his face, his strong hands gripping your thighs to hold you steady.

“Logan!” Your voice was a mix of shock and laughter, your hands automatically going to his shoulders for balance. “What are you…”

“Told you,” he interrupted, his tone both teasing and commanding. “Gonna spoil you.”

You barely had time to process his words before his mouth was on you, hot and insistent. A sharp gasp escaped your lips as his tongue parted you, finding exactly where you needed him. The initial shock melted into pleasure, and your head fell back as a low moan spilled from your lips.

“Oh, God,” you managed, your fingers digging into his shoulders. Logan’s grip tightened on your thighs, pulling you closer against him. His tongue worked in slow, deliberate strokes, each one sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through your body. When he sucked lightly, your hips bucked involuntarily, and his hands moved to hold you in place.

“Logan, please,” you whimpered, your voice barely more than a breath.

He groaned against you, the vibration only adding to your pleasure. “You taste so damn good, sweetheart,” he murmured between strokes, his voice thick and low.

Your fingers curled tighter in his hair, your thighs trembling under the firm grip of his hands. He held you in place as his tongue explored you, each deliberate motion sending ripples of heat through your core. The raw need in his voice matched the way he devoured you, like a man starved.

“Logan… oh, God,” you gasped, your hips instinctively rolling against his mouth. The intensity of it, the sheer focus he poured into you, left you teetering on the edge. You leaned back slightly, bracing your hands on his shoulders, your nails digging into the fabric of his shirt.

He chuckled against your sensitive skin, the low rumble sending another shiver through you. “Keep sayin’ my name like that,” he teased, his lips brushing over your clit before his tongue swirled around it in slow, agonizing circles. “Drives me wild.”

You couldn’t answer—not coherently, at least. Instead, a breathy moan escaped your lips, your head falling back as pleasure coiled tighter in your belly. The wet heat of his mouth, the scrape of his beard against your inner thighs, every sensation overwhelmed you.

“You’re… you’re too good at this,” you managed to choke out, your voice trembling.

His smirk was evident even without seeing it. “Damn right I am,” he replied, his grip on your thighs tightening. He shifted slightly, pulling you even closer as his tongue plunged deeper, his nose brushing against your clit in a way that made your back arch.

The sharp gasp that tore from your throat only spurred him on. His hands slid up to your hips, his thumbs pressing into the curve of your waist to steady you as you trembled against him. “That’s it, darlin’,” he muttered, his voice muffled but unmistakably rough with want. “Let go for me.”

Your body obeyed before your mind could catch up. The tension inside you snapped, a flood of white-hot ecstasy that left you crying out his name. Logan groaned as he held you through it, his tongue never relenting, drawing every last wave of pleasure from you until you sagged against him, your thighs shaking uncontrollably.

You blinked down at him, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. His lips glistened with evidence of your release, his smirk smug but not unkind. He looked utterly unrepentant, like a man who knew exactly what he’d done and was damn proud of it.

“Still with me?” he asked, his voice a little softer now as his hands caressed your thighs, grounding you.

You hummed as he gently pushed you down onto the bed. He was sitting on his heels between your legs as you leaned up to start unbuttoning his flannel. Logan watched you, his eyes fixed on your face, his hands resting on your thighs. The reverence in his gaze made your breath hitch, and you focused on the small task of freeing him from the worn fabric.

“C’mere,” he murmured, one hand lifting to brush a strand of hair from your face, his thumb lingering on your cheek. “Need to see you, darlin’.”

You tugged the shirt open, revealing the faint scars littering his chest, some old and faded, others still pink and newer. Your fingers trailed over his skin as you pushed the flannel off his shoulders. He shivered slightly under your touch, and you smiled softly.

“You’re overdressed,” you pointed out, sitting up to work at the buckle of his belt. Logan’s hands covered yours, halting your movements.

“Leave the skirt,” he said, his voice low and rough. His gaze flicked to your heels. “And those.”

Your cheeks heated, but you nodded, your hands dropping to your sides as he finished unfastening his belt. His jeans and boxers joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor, and when he was finally bare before you, your eyes lingered, taking in every inch of him. He leaned down, catching your lips in a slow, heated kiss that left you breathless. His hand slid under your thigh, hitching your leg higher as he settled between your legs.

“Been too damn long,” he muttered against your mouth, his voice thick with longing.

Your fingers traced the muscles of his back as he kissed you, his lips soft but insistent. When he pulled back, his hand slid down your side, calloused fingers skimming your hip. He guided himself to your entrance, his forehead pressing against yours as he paused, his breathing uneven.

“Logan,” you whispered, your voice trembling with want. “Please.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. He pushed into you slowly, the stretch making you gasp softly. Logan groaned low in his throat, his hands gripping your hips as he filled you completely. He stayed still for a moment, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he breathed you in.

“Always so fuckin’ perfect,” he rasped. “Takin’ me so well, sweetheart. Always do.”

Your nails pressed into his shoulders as you adjusted to him, your body instinctively arching against his. He started to move, slow and deliberate at first, each thrust deep and purposeful. You whimpered softly, biting your lip to muffle the sounds threatening to escape.

“C’mon, darlin’,” Logan urged, his voice rough. “Lemme hear you.”

“Logan,” you gasped, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer. The sheer intensity of him, the way he moved inside you, left you trembling. His hands roamed your body, one sliding under your thigh to angle your hips, the other tangling in your hair.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear. “Doin’ so good for me. So good.”

Your head fell back against the pillows, your breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps as he picked up the pace. His hips snapped against yours, the rough friction sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. Logan’s voice was a constant murmur in your ear, each word dripping with adoration and want.

“You’re gorgeous like this,” he said, his voice thick. “Spread out for me, takin’ my cock so damn well. Been dreamin’ about this, darlin’. Missed the way you feel.”

Your hands slid to his sides, your fingers digging into his skin as you clung to him. The pressure building inside you was almost unbearable, your body tightening around him with every thrust. Logan groaned, the sound low and primal, and his lips found yours in a heated, desperate kiss.

“Logan,” you whispered against his mouth, your voice trembling.

“I’ve got you,” he promised, his grip on your thigh tightening. “Let go for me, sweetheart. Wanna feel you.”

His words pushed you over the edge. Your body arched against his, a sharp gasp escaping your lips as the tension snapped, pleasure crashing over you in waves. Logan’s pace didn’t falter, his movements driving you higher as he chased his own release. The sound of his name on your lips sent him spiraling, his body tensing as he followed you into bliss.

He collapsed against you, his weight grounding you as you both tried to catch your breath. His hand slid to your cheek, tilting your face up so he could kiss you softly. The tenderness in his touch made your heart ache, and you smiled against his lips.

“Missed you,” he said again, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you reminded him, your fingers brushing through his hair.

Logan pressed his forehead to yours, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Good.”

You held him close, your bodies tangled together, and for a moment, everything else faded away.

---

“Guess I’m the unlucky one then.” You said, grabbing a few binders from your desk.

Logan grumbled under his breath as he watched you gather a few binders and textbooks from your desk. "I’m gonna kill Scott. There’s no reason you should be teachin’ a summer class."

You adjusted your glasses and glanced over your shoulder at him, an amused smile tugging at your lips. "Logan, it’s only for eight weeks. It’s not like I’m running a full semester."

He narrowed his eyes, clearly unimpressed by your attempt to downplay it. "Still too much. You already do enough around here."

You shook your head, biting back a laugh. "It’s just a class for the younger kids. Basic physics. Nothing too strenuous."

Logan snorted and crossed his arms, leaning against the doorway. "Darlin’, you’d find a way to make a black hole sound like a bedtime story. Don’t mean you gotta be teachin’ every second of the day."

"That’s because black holes are fascinating," you teased, brushing past him to set your materials down on the kitchen table. "And it’s not like I’m always working. You know I’m just filling in since Ororo is handling extra field training this summer."

"Uh-huh," Logan muttered, clearly unconvinced. "And what about time for you? When’s the last time you had a break that didn’t involve grading papers or chasin’ kids around?"

You opened your mouth to respond but paused when you felt a small tug on your pants. Looking down, you found Laura standing beside you, her stuffed bunny tucked tightly under her arm. Her serious gaze flickered between you and Logan.

"Why is he mad?" Laura asked softly, her voice careful but laced with concern.

Logan’s expression softened instantly, and he crouched to meet her eye level. "Ain’t mad, kid. Just think your mo—" he caught himself, clearing his throat, "—Y/N, works too hard sometimes. Somebody’s gotta look out for her, right?"

Laura looked up at you, her small brow furrowing in thought. "Do you want me to help?"

Your heart melted at her earnestness, and you knelt beside her, brushing a hand over her dark hair. "Sweetheart, that’s very kind, but I promise I’m okay. Logan’s just being overprotective again."

"Someone’s gotta do it," Logan quipped, standing back up and crossing his arms again.

Laura seemed satisfied with your answer and wrapped her arms around your neck in a quick hug before retreating to sit at the kitchen counter, her bunny in tow. You straightened and turned to Logan, who was still giving you that stubborn, protective look.

"It’s eight weeks, Logan," you said softly, stepping closer to him. "I promise, it’s manageable. And I’ll still have plenty of time for you and Laura."

His jaw twitched, but he relented with a small sigh, one hand reaching out to rest on your waist. "Fine. But if you so much as look tired, I’m takin’ over. Don’t care if Scott likes it or not."

"Noted," you replied, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

Before Logan could grumble again, the distant sound of children’s laughter echoed through the mansion halls, followed by the patter of small footsteps. You glanced toward the doorway as a group of younger kids you’d helped rescue, alongside Laura, ran past, giggling and chattering excitedly. One of them stopped to wave at you before darting after the others.

Laura glanced at the commotion, then turned back to you. "Do I have to go with them?"

You smiled gently and shook your head. "No, sweetheart. You can stay with us if you’d like."

Laura hesitated for a moment before nodding and settling deeper into her chair. Logan watched her carefully, his usual gruff demeanor melting as he studied her.

"She’s stickin’ close today," he murmured, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

"She’s getting more comfortable," you said softly. "But she still has her moments. We just need to keep showing her she’s safe."

Logan nodded, his hand brushing against yours. "She’s got you, darlin’. That’s all she needs."

---

“You should’ve seen it, Jean! I grabbed the papers from Scott’s hands and got this,” you said, holding up your index finger to show the tiny, nearly invisible cut. “And Laura snarled at him.”

Jean laughed, setting her mug down on the counter. “She snarled at Scott? Oh, I wish I’d been there for that.”

“I know, right?” You adjusted your glasses, shaking your head in disbelief. “I mean, Scott looked so confused. He just froze and started stammering, like he didn’t know what he did wrong.”

Jean leaned on the counter, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Well, Scott does have a talent for rubbing people the wrong way. But I think it’s sweet—Laura’s protective of you. She’s really come out of her shell since she’s been here.”

Your expression softened as you thought about Laura. “She has. She still sticks close, though. Logan says she’s like that because of, you know, everything she’s been through.”

Jean nodded knowingly. “It’s understandable. But it’s also because of you. She feels safe with you. Both of you.”

“Maybe.” You smiled faintly, swirling your mug of tea. “It’s just… hard to believe sometimes, you know? I mean, for so long, it was just me and Logan. And now, suddenly, there’s this kid who sees us as her family.”

Jean’s smile turned warm, but there was a flicker of thoughtfulness in her gaze. She reached out and squeezed your hand. “You’ve built something amazing, Y/N. She’s lucky to have you.”

Before you could respond, you heard heavy footsteps approaching. Logan entered the kitchen, his ever-present gruffness softened as his eyes landed on you. “You tell Jean about Scott yet?”

Jean smirked. “Oh, she did. And I’m dying to know—did he actually apologize to Laura, or did he just flee in terror?”

Logan chuckled, leaning against the doorway. “He tried, but the kid just gave him her death stare. Poor guy didn’t stand a chance.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “That sounds about right.”

Laura padded into the kitchen just then, her bunny tucked securely under her arm. She stopped beside you and tugged gently on your sleeve. “Are you okay?”

Her small, serious voice tugged at your heart. “Of course, kiddo. It’s just a little paper cut.”

Laura frowned, her gaze dropping to your hand. “It could get infected.”

Jean covered her mouth to stifle a laugh as Logan stepped closer, resting a hand on Laura’s shoulder. “Kid’s got a point,” he said, clearly trying not to smile. “Better let her put a Band-Aid on it. Y’know, for safety.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your grin. “Fine, but only if you help, Laura. Think you can handle it?”

She nodded solemnly and marched off to fetch the first-aid kit. Jean leaned closer and whispered, “you’ve got your own little bodyguard now.”

“I know,” you whispered back, smiling as Laura returned with the kit in hand.

Laura set to work with the precision of someone much older, carefully cleaning the tiny cut and applying a Band-Aid decorated with cartoon characters. When she was done, she looked up at you with a serious expression. “No more paper cuts.”

You nodded, biting back a laugh. “Got it. No more paper cuts.”

Logan ruffled Laura’s hair, his expression softening in that way it always did when he looked at her. “Good work, kid. Keepin’ her safe.”

Laura nodded firmly, clearly taking the role very seriously. Jean’s gaze flicked between the three of you, her smile growing as she picked up her mug. “I’d say you’re in good hands, Y/N. Between Logan and Laura, you’ll never have to worry about anything.”

You looked at them both, warmth blooming in your chest. “Yeah,” you said softly. “I think you’re right.”

---

You looked at both sides of the hallway before quickly ducking into Ororo’s office, shutting the door behind you. She glanced up from her desk, eyebrows raised. “Whoa, whoa. What’re you doing here?”

“Hiding,” you muttered, leaning back against the door.

Ororo tilted her head, clearly intrigued. “From who?”

“Logan,” you admitted, sighing as you adjusted your glasses.

Her lips twitched with amusement as she leaned back in her chair. “Logan? Why are you hiding from him?”

“Because,” you began, stepping away from the door and crossing your arms, “this morning, he wouldn’t let me get out of bed. I mean, he wrapped himself around me like a vice, said it was ‘too early,’ and when I finally managed to escape, he helped me dress.”

Ororo blinked. “He helped you what?”

“Dress,” you repeated, exasperated. “He buttoned my shirt, made sure my socks matched—he even put my glasses on for me!”

She burst out laughing, shaking her head. “Oh, I’d pay to see that. Logan, Mr. ‘I’ll Rip Your Head Off,’ playing stylist.”

“Not stylist,” you corrected. “He wasn’t picking outfits. He just... wouldn’t let me do it myself. It was sweet but—ugh—I’m an adult! I can dress myself.”

Ororo raised a skeptical brow, her smile widening. “Sweet? That doesn’t sound like something you should hide from. Sounds like you’ve got him wrapped around your finger.”

You groaned, sitting in one of the chairs across from her desk. “It’s more than that. He’s been extra... clingy lately. And Laura, too! She wouldn’t even let me walk down the stairs this morning without holding my hand. She said the bannister might ‘give out.’ The bannister, Ororo.”

Ororo pressed her fingers to her lips, trying to suppress another laugh. “Sounds like they’re on high alert. Did something happen recently?”

“No!” you said quickly, waving your hands. “Everything’s been fine. Better than fine, actually. Laura’s been settling in, Logan’s been... happy, I think. I don’t know what’s gotten into them.”

Ororo gave you a knowing look but didn’t press further. “Well, maybe it’s just their instincts kicking in. Logan’s always been protective, and Laura’s clearly picked up a few habits from him.”

“Clearly,” you mumbled, running a hand through your hair. “But it’s a bit much. I just needed a breather, you know?”

She nodded, her expression softening. “I get it. But you know, for all their gruffness, they love you. And maybe they’re just trying to show it in their own... unique way.”

You smiled faintly, her words easing some of your frustration. “Yeah, I guess. I just hope this phase passes soon. I’m not used to being hovered over like this.”

“Well, if you need a place to hide, my office is always open,” Ororo teased, leaning forward with a grin. “But I wouldn’t stay too long. Logan’ll probably sniff you out before lunch.”

“Don’t remind me,” you said, laughing despite yourself. “Thanks, Ororo.”

“Anytime,” she said, watching as you stood and stretched. “Oh, and Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

She smirked. “If Logan starts trying to braid your hair, let me know. I’ll need to see that for myself.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you headed for the door. “Don’t hold your breath.”

---

When you stepped into the hallway, you didn’t make it five steps before Logan appeared around the corner, his sharp eyes locking onto you immediately.

“Darlin’, thought I told you to take it easy today,” he said, his voice carrying that familiar gruff warmth as he approached.

You sighed, caught red-handed. “Logan, I’m fine. I don’t need to—”

He interrupted you by tugging your glasses up slightly and peering at your face, as if checking for signs of exhaustion. “You been runnin’ around again?”

“Not running,” you said, batting his hand away but smiling despite yourself. “Just... walking briskly.”

He snorted, clearly unconvinced. “C’mon. Laura’s lookin’ for you. Said she wants to sit with you during lunch.”

You couldn’t help but soften at the mention of her. “Alright. But no more helping me get dressed, okay?”

His smirk was small but unmistakable. “No promises, sweetheart.”

---

You stepped out of the bathroom in the main hall, closing the door behind you before turning to face Logan, who was leaning against the wall by the door.

You yelped, covering your mouth with one hand and your heart with the other, “Jesus, honey, you scared me!”

Logan raised an eyebrow, “you’ve been going to the bathroom more often.”

“Yeah… because it’s summer and I’m drinking more water. Unlike someone who thinks coffee counts as part of his water intake,” you teased, adjusting your glasses as you glanced at Logan.

Logan crossed his arms, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Coffee’s got water in it. Pretty sure that counts.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s not how hydration works, Logan.”

He tilted his head, watching you closely, and his smirk faded into something more thoughtful. “You sure you’re okay? You’ve been lookin’ a little… off lately. Not sick or nothin’, just different.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard. “Different how?”

Logan shrugged but didn’t break eye contact. “Dunno. Just feels like somethin’s changed.”

You waved a hand dismissively. “I’m fine, really. Probably just tired from teaching the summer class.”

Before Logan could press further, Laura appeared around the corner, her little bunny tucked under her arm as always. She made a beeline for you, her small hand immediately wrapping around yours. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice soft but insistent.

Your heart melted a little at the concern in her wide eyes. “I’m fine, Laura. Just talking to Logan about staying hydrated.”

She frowned, looking up at Logan with a scolding expression that was comically reminiscent of his own. “You should drink water, too.”

Logan snorted, crouching slightly so he was closer to her eye level. “Kid, I’ve been doin’ just fine with coffee for decades. Don’t think I’ll stop now.”

Laura’s frown deepened. “Coffee doesn’t hydrate you.”

You bit your lip to stifle a laugh as Logan raised an eyebrow. “You teamin’ up on me now?”

“She’s right,” you said with a grin. “Even if it pains you to admit it.”

Logan shook his head, muttering something under his breath about stubborn women before standing and looking down at the two of you. “Fine. I’ll drink more water. Happy?”

Laura nodded, satisfied, and tugged on your hand. “Come on. It’s time for lunch.”

“Alright, alright,” you said, letting her lead you down the hallway. As you glanced back, you caught Logan watching the two of you, a softness in his eyes that made your chest tighten in the best way.

---

Laura sat on the stool at the kitchen island, watching your movements like a hawk. Her bunny sat in her lap while her hand absentmindedly stroked one of its ears.

Some pop music played from the radio by the stove as you dipped your finger in the sauce. You quickly pulled your finger away from the spoon, muttering an “ouch” as you sucked on your finger. Before you knew it, Laura had hopped off her stool and come to stand by you, tugging your arm down so she could inspect your slightly reddened finger.

“It’s fine, kiddo,” you said softly, holding up your hand for her to see. “Just touched the sauce. It’s hot, but no harm done.”

Laura frowned, narrowing her eyes at your hand as though the sauce itself had committed some great crime. “You shouldn’t do that,” she said seriously.

You bit back a smile, her concern both endearing and amusing. “You’re right. I’ll be more careful.”

Logan’s familiar footsteps echoed into the kitchen before he appeared in the doorway, his arms crossed. His gaze flicked to you and then to Laura standing protectively by your side. “What happened now?”

“Nothing!” you exclaimed, throwing him an exasperated look. “I touched the sauce, and it was hot. End of story.”

Logan raised a brow as he leaned against the doorframe. “Did you burn yourself?”

“No,” you said firmly, lifting your hand to show him. “See? No burn. Laura’s just being thorough.”

“She’s not wrong to be,” Logan muttered, his sharp eyes scanning you as if to confirm you were telling the truth.

Laura crossed her arms, mirroring Logan’s stance. “She needs to be more careful,” she said with a seriousness far beyond her years.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Alright, alright. I’ll be more careful. You two can call off the safety patrol now.”

“Not a chance,” Logan said with a smirk. “We know you too well.”

Rolling your eyes, you went back to stirring the sauce, but you couldn’t ignore the way Laura stayed glued to your side, her watchful eyes tracking your every move.

“Laura,” you said gently, glancing down at her. “I’m fine. Why don’t you go back to your bunny and let me finish up here?”

Her brow furrowed, but she hesitated, glancing at Logan. He gave her a small nod, and she reluctantly climbed back onto her stool, though she kept her bunny close and her eyes on you.

Logan pushed off the doorframe and walked over, resting a hand on your lower back as he leaned in to check the sauce. “Smells good,” he murmured, his voice low.

“It would smell better if you stopped hovering,” you teased, elbowing him lightly.

He chuckled, his hand staying on your back. “Can’t help it, darlin’. You know that.”

“I do,” you admitted softly, meeting his eyes. “And I appreciate it. Both of you.”

Laura perked up at that, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Good,” she said. “You should.”

Logan grinned, ruffling her hair as she giggled. You couldn’t help but smile at the scene—the three of you in the kitchen, the warmth of the moment settling over you like a blanket. For the first time in a long while, everything felt right.

“Alright,” you said, breaking the silence as you picked up the spoon again. “Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. Go set the table, you two.”

Laura hopped off her stool, grabbing her bunny as she darted toward the dining room. Logan lingered a moment longer, his hand brushing against yours as he leaned down to kiss the top of your head.

“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he murmured.

You smiled, glancing up at him. “And don’t you forget it.”

He smirked, giving your hand a gentle squeeze before following Laura. The kitchen fell quiet again, save for the music playing softly in the background, and you let yourself bask in the peace of the moment.

---

You raised an eyebrow to yourself as you turned the corner, carefully listening to the footsteps behind you turning from two pairs to one pair.

Students moved out of the way as Charles rolled down the hall, “hello, Professor.” You said, with a smile.

“Hello, Y/N.” Charles rolled past, offering you a kind smile. He didn’t get far before spotting Logan and Laura entering the hallway behind you, the young girl perched comfortably on Logan’s shoulders. “And hello to you two.”

Laura gave a small wave, her hand clutching her bunny. Logan nodded, his grip firm on Laura’s ankles to keep her steady. “Charles,” Logan said, his tone gruff but polite.

“You’re all heading to the kitchen, I take it?” Charles asked, an amused glint in his eye as he noted how closely Logan and Laura were sticking to you.

“Yeah,” you replied, adjusting your glasses. “Someone promised Laura she could pick her dessert for after dinner. Now she’s making sure I follow through.”

Laura leaned forward slightly, her chin resting on Logan’s head. “She’s not allowed to forget,” she added, her voice serious.

Logan smirked. “She’s like me—sticks to her word. You don’t gotta worry about that.”

Charles chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Well, I’ll leave you all to it. Enjoy your evening.”

“You too,” you said as Charles wheeled off, his presence leaving the hall feeling quieter.

Logan shifted Laura slightly before following you into the kitchen. Inside, Jean and Scott were already seated at the island. Jean was flipping through a magazine, and Scott was fiddling with his glasses, a steaming cup of tea in front of him.

“Hey,” Jean greeted with a smile. “How’s it going?”

“Busy,” you replied with a small laugh, heading to the counter. Logan stayed close, setting Laura down carefully as she scampered over to sit beside Jean.

Scott grabbed another cup of tea and handed it to you. “Figured you might need this.”

You accepted it with a polite nod. “Thanks, Scott.” You took a tentative sip, the warmth spreading through you—until the taste hit. Immediately, you fought to keep your expression neutral, but a slight grimace slipped through.

Jean caught your eye and raised a brow, mouthing, it’s bad, isn’t it?

You gave a subtle nod as you swallowed. Terrible.

Scott tilted his head, watching you curiously. “How is it?”

You hesitated, glancing at Jean for backup, but she just smirked and sipped her water. “It’s, uh…” You cleared your throat. “Unique. Thanks for making it.”

Scott grinned. “Unique’s good. I’ll take that.”

Laura leaned forward, her bunny in her lap. “Can I taste it?” she asked innocently.

“No!” you and Jean said in unison, a little too quickly. Logan stifled a laugh, shaking his head as Laura blinked in confusion.

Jean smoothly recovered, putting a hand on Laura’s shoulder. “Tea’s not really for kids, sweetie. Stick to your dessert plan.”

Laura shrugged, seemingly satisfied, and turned back to her bunny. Logan stepped closer, leaning his hip against the counter near you. “Unique, huh?” he said low enough that only you could hear.

You shot him a look. “Don’t start.”

He chuckled softly, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Never said a word.”

Jean leaned back in her chair, looking between the two of you with a knowing smile. “So, what’s on the dessert menu tonight?”

“Laura’s call,” you replied, glancing at the girl. “What’ll it be, kiddo?”

Laura’s face lit up. “Ice cream. With chocolate syrup. And sprinkles.”

Scott winced. “You’re braver than I am. That’s a sugar rush waiting to happen.”

“She’s got Logan to burn it off later,” Jean teased.

Logan smirked. “Bring it on.”

You sighed dramatically. “Great. Guess I’m stuck cleaning the aftermath.”

Logan’s hand brushed against yours, his touch grounding. “You’re never stuck. We’ve got it covered.”

You met his eyes, his sincerity making your chest tighten. For a moment, it was just the two of you, the world fading into the background. Then Laura tugged at your sleeve, breaking the moment.

“Let’s go, Y/N!” she said excitedly. “The ice cream’s waiting.”

With a smile, you nodded, following her to the freezer. Logan stayed close, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back, and for a brief second, you wondered if he even realized he was doing it—or if it was as unconscious as the way Laura hovered near you this past month.

---

You hadn’t checked your calendar in a few weeks, either too busy with the summer class you were teaching or too busy with Laura and Logan hovering over your every move.

Luckily, it was the first time in weeks that neither of them were to be found. The two of them were outside with the other young kids and Ororo.

You marked off each day with an ‘X’ after double-checking that everything had been done. June 20: New toothbrushes. June 25: Clean bathroom. June 30: Wash bedsheets (unless already washed). July 9-15: Period.

You waited a moment, looking at the calendar. It was July 21, so not too far off from when you were supposed to get your period. You marked an ‘X’ throughout the week, leaving the 21st unmarked.

Putting on your slippers, you headed down to the med bay where Jean should be; she told you the other night she had some reorganizing to do.

Opening the doors, you saw Jean wiping down one of the medical beds, a clipboard resting on the counter nearby. She glanced up as you entered, her expression softening into a smile.

"Hey, Y/N. What's up? Need me to patch someone up again, or is this a social visit?" she teased, setting the cloth aside.

You shook your head, adjusting your glasses. "Neither, actually. Just... something I wanted to run by you."

Jean gestured to one of the stools by the counter, her curiosity piqued. "Alright. What's going on?"

Sliding onto the stool, you sighed softly. "It’s probably nothing, but I figured I’d ask. My period’s late—about a week or so." You hesitated, glancing at her. "I’m not too worried, but I wanted to see if that’s normal. Hormone fluctuations or stress maybe?"

Jean’s brow furrowed thoughtfully. "Could be either. It’s been unusually hot lately, and I know Ororo mentioned she was late a while back because of it. Stress can throw things off, too. Have you been under a lot of pressure lately?"

You gave a small laugh. "A little. Between teaching and keeping an eye on Laura and Logan hovering every second, it’s been a lot. Not bad, though—just busy."

Jean nodded, crossing her arms as she leaned against the counter. "It doesn’t sound alarming, but if you’re feeling off, we can do some tests—just to rule anything out. Plus, it’s about time for your yearly checkup, right?"

You nodded, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "Might as well knock it all out at once."

Jean offered a reassuring smile. "Good call. Let’s run some blood tests and take a look. Probably nothing, but better safe than sorry."

You followed her instructions, extending your arm as she prepped for the blood draw. Jean worked efficiently, her movements calm and practiced. When she was done, she labeled the vials and gave your arm a gentle pat.

"That’s it for now. Results will take a little bit, so sit tight," she said, nodding toward the stool. "I’ll run these through."

You settled back, trying to distract yourself by scrolling through your phone. After what felt like forever but was probably only twenty minutes, Jean returned with a peculiar expression—one that made your stomach twist in uncertainty. She had something behind her back.

"Okay," she began, her tone light but her eyes sharp. "Before I say anything, I need you to trust me and just do this."

She revealed a pregnancy test and handed it to you. Your brows shot up in confusion. "Jean, why are you giving me this? I told you, that’s not—"

"Just humor me," she interrupted, her tone firm but kind. "Go. Take it. I’ll explain after."

You stared at her, baffled. "You’re being cryptic, and I hate it."

She smirked faintly. "I know. Go. Please."

Grumbling under your breath, you grabbed the test and headed for the restroom. A few minutes later, you emerged, holding the test carefully in your hand.

Jean looked up, her expression unreadable. "Well?"

"It’s not done yet," you said, setting it on the counter. "What exactly are we doing here, Jean?"

"Just waiting," she replied smoothly, but there was a tension in her posture that you couldn’t ignore.

The two of you stood in silence, the seconds dragging on until the test’s display showed the result. Your breath caught when you saw the word: pregnant.

You stared at it, blinking as though it might change. "Jean," you said slowly, turning to her. "This can’t be right. I mean... after everything—this can’t—"

Jean stepped closer, her hands gently gripping your shoulders. "The blood test confirmed it, Y/N. You’re pregnant."

The words hit you like a freight train, your mind reeling. You shook your head, unable to process. "No. That’s not possible. We stopped trying years ago. There’s no way—"

"I know it’s a lot to take in," Jean said gently. "But the results don’t lie."

Tears blurred your vision, a whirlwind of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. "How?" you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Jean’s smile was warm, her eyes shining with understanding. "Sometimes, things happen when you least expect them."

You couldn’t find the words, your hands trembling as you clutched the test. Jean pulled you into a hug, her presence grounding you.

"Take your time," she said softly. "And when you’re ready, you can tell him."

---

You paced the bedroom later that night, the pregnancy test—one of many you took for your own peace of mind—in your hand.

The last time you did this; it didn’t end so well. And though Jean guessed you were 5 weeks along, only one week away from when you had the miscarriage, it didn’t do anything to quell your nerves.

Part of you wanted to wait until you passed 6 weeks to spare Logan the pain of losing another baby, but the other part of you wanted to throw up at the thought of keeping it away from him.

Before you could spiral further, the bedroom door opened, and you quickly slipped the test into the pocket of your robe. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest as Logan stepped inside, his expression softening when he saw you. He had that familiar, slightly worried look—one that said he’d been thinking about you but didn’t know how to bring it up.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Logan greeted, closing the door behind him. His voice was calm, but there was a subtle edge to it. “You alright? Haven’t seen you much since breakfast.”

You forced a smile, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah, just… busy.”

He stepped closer, his piercing eyes scanning your face, and for a moment, you thought he might somehow already know. But he didn’t say anything, just settled a hand on your shoulder. His touch was warm, grounding you in the moment.

“You sure?” he asked, his voice gentler now.

You nodded, taking a breath. “Yeah, but there’s, um… something I need to talk to you about.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly. “Alright. What’s on your mind?”

You hesitated, your fingers brushing the edge of the test in your pocket. The words felt heavy, like they didn’t want to leave your throat. But you knew you couldn’t keep this from him, no matter how scared you were.

“I went to see Jean earlier,” you started, your voice quieter than you intended. Logan’s brow furrowed slightly, but he stayed silent, letting you continue. “I wasn’t feeling off or anything—just… noticed my period was late. So, she ran some tests.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed slightly, his protective instincts kicking in. “What kind of tests? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “At least… I think it is. She ran a blood test, and, um…” You trailed off, finally pulling the test out of your pocket and holding it out to him. “I’m pregnant.”

Logan stared at the test in your hand, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, slowly, he took it from you, his fingers brushing yours. His eyes lingered on the word displayed on the test, and you saw the exact moment it registered.

“Pregnant,” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. His gaze snapped back to you, searching your face. “You’re… serious?”

You nodded, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “Jean thinks I’m about five weeks along. I didn’t think it was even possible, Logan. We tried so long, and then…” You swallowed hard, unable to finish the sentence.

Logan stepped closer, cupping your face in his hands. His touch was steady, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “Hey, hey,” he murmured, his thumbs brushing your cheeks. “Darlin’, don’t—don’t do that. This ain’t like before, alright? We’re not gonna think about that.”

A small, shaky laugh escaped you. “I don’t know how to not think about it. I’m terrified, Logan. What if—”

He cut you off, leaning in to press his forehead against yours. “No ‘what ifs.’ Not this time,” he said firmly. “We’re gonna take this one day at a time, together. And if you’re scared, that’s alright—I’ll be scared with you. But I’m not gonna let you go through this alone.”

You let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch. “I was going to wait until we passed six weeks to tell you. Just in case…”

Logan pulled back slightly, his hands still cradling your face. “You shouldn’t have to carry that by yourself,” he said softly. “Doesn’t matter if it’s five weeks, five days, or five minutes—I wanna be here for all of it. Every second.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks, and Logan pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. His hand rested on the back of your head, his other arm wrapped securely around your waist. You clung to him, your face buried against his chest.

“I don’t know how this happened,” you admitted, your voice muffled.

Logan kissed the top of your head, his voice low and steady. “Don’t matter how, sweetheart. All that matters is it happened. And I’m gonna do everything I can to make sure you and the baby are alright. You hear me?”

You nodded against his chest, his words soothing some of the fear that had been clawing at you. For the first time that day, you felt a small flicker of hope, fragile but there nonetheless.

Logan pulled back just enough to look at you, his hand brushing a tear from your cheek. “We’re gonna be alright,” he said softly, his voice filled with quiet conviction. “All three of us.”

A small smile tugged at your lips, and for the first time that day, you believed him.

this takes place in 2016 and part of 2017!

also... finally😭😭it's been a long journey for them

[nightghoul381]

S-Tier Mission: Sadistic & Sweet

Ellis Twilight ~ Chapter 1

This a fan translation so it is definitely not 100% accurate. I do not own anything related to Ikemen Villains. Support Cybird by buying their amazing stories!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Premium End | Epilogue

Ellis always spoiled me.

Like marshmallows in hot chocolate, my body and mind would melt away—

Before I knew it, like the bitterness of chocolate, the thorns had become a part of me.

Kate: “Ellis, I’m glad your wound has healed nicely.”

Roger had just confirmed the diagnosis that he was fine after suffering injuries during a recent mission.

Ellis: “Yeah. The injury wasn’t serious, but I’m sorry for worrying you.”

Kate: “No don't be, I’m very glad that you weren’t seriously injured, Ellis.”

(…Even though I said that.)

If I was being honest, I didn’t think I’d ever get used to witnessing the bloody scenes on missions.

Ellis made sure that I didn’t get involved in situations where someone got hurt.

(But as Crown’s Fairytale Keeper, I can’t just be shielded like that…)

Kate: “…I need to be more responsible.”

Ellis: “Huh?”

(Oh, I said that out loud.)

Kate: “If I get stronger, maybe I can protect you too, Ellis.”

Kate: “I want to improve more, so I figure I have to work harder.”

Ellis: “Kate, I think you’re still doing your best…”

Ellis: “If that’s what you want to do, I’ll support you.”

As we walked, his large hand gently embraced mine.

I was always spoiled by this kind of warmth and kindness.

Ellis: “If there’s anything I can do for you, would you please tell me?”

--

Victor: “Well then, here it comes—The mission you’ve all been waiting for!”

Victor: “I’m calling it an ‘S-class mission’! Wow, that’s exciting!”

Kate: “S-class… is it really that difficult?”

Victor: “Nice to hear from you, Miss Kate.”

Victor: “The ‘S’ stands for… ‘Sexy’ and ‘Sweet’, so it’s the perfect mission for you!”

Harrison: “…How dare you say something so embarrassing.”

Ellis: “You think? I agree with him.”

Kate: “!?”

Victor: “Really? I knew Ellis would understand!”

Victor: “There have been a lot of kidnappings and murders targeting women recently.”

Harrison: “It seems the police have already determined that the series of crimes were committed by the same perpetrator.”

Harrison: “But it also seems that powerful people with connections to higher-ups are involved in the incidents, and the details are being covered up internally.”

Harrison: “So, instead of the police who aren’t taking action, we at Crown will carry out the purge.”

(They want me for such an important mission?)

Kate: “Um, what exactly is the plan?”

Victor: “Yes, yes, of course you’re curious!”

Victor: “First, I want to get more information about the mastermind behind these incidents.”

Victor: “So we must make contact with the key man—Oliver Robbins.”

Harrison: “All the women involved in the incidents have been wooed by him.”

Victor: “So, with your charm—”

Victor: “Can you get any clues from the guy?”

Ellis: “…!”

Kate: “I’m to get clues…”

(Can I get close to my opponent… without them realizing my plans?)

Ellis: “…”

Noticing Ellis’ gaze, I remembered our previous conversation.

--Flashback—

Ellis: “Kate, I think you’re still doing your best…”

Ellis: “If that’s what you want to do, I’ll support you.”

--End Flashback—

(This time, I’m not only expected to act as a fairytale keeper, but also as a member of the mission’s team.)

(This might be my chance.)

Kate: “Okay. I’ll do my best!”

Ellis: “I’ll support you. That’s okay, right Victor?”

Victor: “Oh, of course, that was intended. And Roger too.”

Roger: “Me?”

Victor: “Roger, you’re willing to use your enhanced hearing ability to keep watch of their surroundings, right?”

Roger: “Well, I guess that can’t be helped. But in return, I expect a lot of money.”

Kate: “I look forward to working with you, Roger and Ellis.”

Victor: “Kate, once you complete the mission successfully, I’ll have to give you a special reward. This is an S-rank mission after all.”

Victor: “To be honest, I’d like to accompany you and help you out as well, but…”

Roger: “Don’t be greedy, Victor. You have plenty of work to do, Mr. Queen’s Aide.”

Roger: “Besides, isn’t there someone more qualified to protect and evaluate Kate?”

Victor: “Yes, you’re right. Ellis, could you do me a favor?”

Ellis: “So you’re saying I’ll be protecting Kate… what do you mean by evaluating?”

Victor: “’Sweet’ or ‘Severe’…”

Victor: “I look forward to hearing about it.”

Leaving the dining hall, I exchanged glances with Ellis.

Kate: “…I never thought I’d be evaluated by you, Ellis.”

Ellis: “Yeah. But I was already going to support your efforts.”

Ellis: “I want to be the closest person to watch over you, so this is good.”

Ellis: “To be honest, I feel like I’ll be giving you perfect scores for trying your best on your mission.”

Kate: “N-No, Ellis. You’re not allowed to pamper me like that just because you’re my boyfriend.”

Ellis: “…Really? Why not?”

I felt like I was being drawn into his twilight-colored eyes that were staring intently at me, but I held myself back.

Kate: “I-I appreciate your kind thoughts, but this is also a chance for me to train myself, so you have to be strict with me.”

Ellis: “Okay, I get it. But then can I help you try to train yourself?”

Kate: “?”

Ellis: “If you perform well, I’ll give you a sweet reward.”

Kate: “…Well, what if I don’t do well?”

Ellis: “If that happens… I guess I’ll have to punish you.”

Kate: “What?”

I was startled by Ellis’ mischievous smile.

Ellis: “Let’s do our best, Kate.”

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Premium End | Epilogue

[ajaxsbeloved]

stygianoir asked:

"A part two of don’t give me that look with Dainsleif, Xiao and Scaramouche plz"

-: don't gimmie that look III :-

part 1 — part 2

feat. dainsleif, alhhaitham, and aether (xiao and scaramouche are in part 2!)

genre. suggestive

summary. the genshin men react to you giving them the “fuck me” eyes accidentally

warnings. dainsleif has fake lore since there's not much we know about him, dains reader uses she/her, dains section is kinda long my bad, khaenri'ahn body guard dain, reader is khaenri'ahn royality or something??, lore players pls don't kill me i'm just writing random shit, dains ending does NOT imply sex after i'm sorry y'all, reader is a scholar at the academiya with alhaitham, aether abyss prince au, more fake lore for aether because we don’t know anything abt the abyss yet

authors note. this series has short circuited my brain 😭😭😭 unfortunately i will NOT be doing a part 4 but please stick around my blog and thank you all for the amount of love you've given this series it means so much to me :( <3 // also this was reuploaded and tagged by @aventurinesweetheart bc i forgot to do it the first time

dainsleif

if dainsleif was anything it was good at his job. not to mention completely and utterly devoted to you...

of course the good part is that you Are his job

Khaenri'ah is a thriving nation, one built on technology and innovation. before the teyvat we knew, before the archons and before the heavenly principles

your father was a strict man, he was always stubborn and strongly believed in learning the right lesson at the right time

dain was a beloved member of the khaenri'ahn guard, having been a member of the guards history since before he was born. dainsleif's father and his father before him had all served the royal family, naturally dain would grow up to do the same thing

when he first became a knight he was proud, even if he wasn't yet protecting members of the royal family he was still happy doing regular guard duties and he was honored to even be a part of the group that would defend their nation

at the ripe age of 18 dainsleif was promoted, he wasn't scared though. no in fact he was extremely excited, he had been waiting for this his whole life and nothing could change the fact that he was proud to carry on his families legacy

he was assigned to protect the khaenri'ahn princess, the oldest of them at least who happened to be the same age as him. he had never actually met her though, sure he had seen her in public as she did royal things with her family like orientation of nobles and knighting new guards

but this was completely different, seeing royalty and befriending royalty were definitely not the same thing

when he first met you he wasn't surprised, you seemed like the typical royal princess. you were calm and put together, you were well articulated and held your head high as any proper royalty should do

it wasn't until a few months into being your specific guard that dainsleif noticed anything unique about you, the truth was that despite all your honorary behaviors and taught attitude, there was a kind and loving person behind it all

at first this was a little shocking to dain, he had no idea that royalty could be so... so human.

you may have been what he expected at first but after knowing you? you were a whole new person to him, not just someone he was hired to protect but you grew to be someone he wanted to protect

eventually the two of you grew rather close, becoming sort of like best friends. dainsleif was never one to socialize much as he had to focus on his job and you were kind of isolated from the world since being put on a pedastal made it hard for you to make friends out of regular everyday people

so from then on the duo was practically inseparable, glued to each other and always running to each other whenever anything remotely interesting happens

until one day, one day dain goes to your bedroom. he was worried, you had missed breakfast and didn't attend your behavior classes. this worried your parents too of course but no one truly cared for you the way dainsleif did

when you didn't answer after he knocked he warned that he was coming in and pushed open the door with a little bit of force only to find that you weren't there, in fact the bed room was completely empty and one of the windows by your bedside was wide open

the worst situation came into dainsleif's mind, had you run away? did someone take you? how was he ever supposed to protect you if he doesn't know where you are?

he immediately sprints to tell your parents and siblings only to find them already in the meeting hall with concerned expressions on their faces and a note in their hands

the note reads as follows "I have your daughter, bring me 100,000 dollars or i will cut off her hands. you have until 12AM, send only 1 guard and the money to this location."

the letter then had a map attached to it with a meeting point, your family was freaking out and insisted that they go to the meeting point with a full guard squad and the money just in case; the money

but dainsleif knew this was a bad idea, he knew that if the royal family sent a whole team of guards that they would never get you back and that the kidnapper would do horrible unimaginable things to you

the thought alone infuriated dain and he somehow managed to convince your family that it was him who needed to go with the money and bring you home safely

so he went, he brought the money and the kidnapper was there with you next to him. there was tape over your mouth and your hands were bound in rope, the sight was hard to look at but dainsleif mustered up all his courage to get you out of this situation

he went to give the kidnapper money and as he did so he managed to knock him out cold, how you may ask? don't. i don't know how he did it LMAO

you quickly ran up to dain and he cut off the ropes that bound your wrists as well as took the tape off of your mouth, thankful to even be alive you engulfed him in the tighest hug you could manage with the strength you had left

dainsleif was shocked, though you were friends you had never seemed to share a hug or been in physical contact so he was taken by surprise at your eager show of affection

he looked down at you and felt his body flood with warmth when he saw you were looking back at him, your eyes glittering in admiration at your hero and the widest toothiest grin on your face

dainsleif felt energy rejuvenate throughout his body, as if looking at you had somehow made him bounce back from all the worry and concern he had at the situation

there you were, looking at him like he was the best man in the world, like he was your hero. he couldn't help but smile back at you, your joyous expression apparently contagious

"let's get you home (y/n)."

alhaitham

being a scholar in the nation of knowledge was no easy feat, there were many and many people who were immensely smart and experienced with researching

alhaitham was no exception, he was of course extremely intelligent not to mention observant and caring (though he would never admit to it)

you had met alhaitham when you first joined the academiya, being in similar fields of study you were able to bond over things like professors or assignments that you struggled with

however alhaitham never struggled, he always found each task easy to complete and he did every assignment well enough to earn perfect grades

you spent countless hours in the library studying til you collapsed over the tests and exams that you had nearly every week, you could spend days and days in the computer lab trying to find sources for your papers and articles about the topics you were assigned for research

alhaitham always came along with you, finding any excuse not to be at home just in case kaveh happened to be there. besides it’s not like he ever had much to do, he had plenty of free time and for whatever reason he preferred spending it with you

even if you were truly spending your time “together”, it was often found that you had your nose in notes and scribbled diagrams while alhaitham sat quietly across from you reading a thick book that had at least 250 pages

sometimes you’d fall asleep studying or you’d have to take a few bathroom breaks, you’d always come back to find alhaitham in the same spot with the same neutral expression as he flipped the pages of his books

sometimes you’d try to talk with him, asking him about how his studies were going or what kaveh was up to. he always got rather annoyed by the questions regarding kaveh, he would get defensive or start bad mouthing kaveh as he tried to make himself look better

“kaveh is a lazy baboon who can hardly get his work done and eat throughout the day while i have to do all the chores around the house and manage to do my duties as the scribe… pfft it’s almost pathetic.”

he’d role his eyes at the thought of kaveh and go on and on complaining about how he hates being at home because he can’t stand being around kaveh, he’d sometimes mentioned hanging out at your place to avoid going home

“after studying we should grab something to eat and head to your house, i’d rather study more with you then go home and deal with my actual roommate.”

despite the way alhaitham talked about kaveh you knew they were actually good friends, they just clashed heads and bickered more than most people….. yeah… more than most….

so one day you let alhaitham come over after studying, you had gotten take out and some alcohol to have at your place while you relaxed after exams

you ate and laughed, though alhaitham seems stoic he’s a rather funny guy. not that he tries to be funny but he just says things so bluntly and isn’t afraid to gossip with you about people in your lives

you were drunk and enjoying yourself from across the table, eventually the laughter died down and the conversation came to a halt

the silence filled the air and alhaitham (who wasn’t drunk because he can hold his alcohol extremely well) was looking around your apartment as opposed to you

you sat there looking at alhaitham and taking in everything about him, from the way he hair framed his face to his gorgeous eyes and toned chest, even the way he smelled like wood

without even realizing you started giggling at him, finding your own thoughts about how good looking his was amusing and unexpected

hearing your laughter alhaitham turn his eyes to you, he froze at the sight before him

there you were sitting across the table from him with a light blush on your face and adorable smile on your lips

you were so perfect, from your teeth to your eyebrows and the way your nose scrunched as you laughed at him made his stomach turn in on itself

truthfully he didn’t understand, what were you laughing about? why did he find you so attractive right now? and how could you laugh so carefree like that? was it because of him?

“what’re you laughing for?”

“you silly! you’re so funny y’know that?”

that was it, that was the straw that broke the camels back. alhaitham didn’t know what it was that made him do flips in his head but he knew if he didn’t do something about it soon it would leave him a wreck

he got up the table swiftly, surprising you as you let out a noise of confusion, he made his way over to your side of the table and grabbed your hand

pulling you up you let out a “wha-“ and before you knew it he was dragging you around the house, to a place you were well familiar with which was of course, your bedroom

he led you quietly and once you arrived he closed the door, pushing you against it and locking lips with you

you were surprised but certainly not disappointed, you leaned into the kiss and wrapped your arms around his neck would made him groan as you smiled against him

“i need to be more than just your study buddy.”

aether

the abyss was a rather strict organization, there weren’t many humans who were a part of it yet you find yourself aligning with their views and climbing up the ranks

today was an important day, today was a mission that the abyss took very seriously. you were chosen to retrieve information on the tsaritsa’s plan to steal the gnosis’ and bring the plans back to headquarters

everything was going just right, you were able to infiltrate a fatui agency successfully and managed to gain access to some information that most fatui weren’t even able to be aware of

you gathered the files you obtained and started to make your way out of the fatui agency when suddenly a man stopped you

“you. i don’t think i’ve seen you anyway around here before, who are you and what is your clearance?”

you were put on the spot, but not to worry because this was something you trained for, this was something you were expecting

“you haven’t seen me because i outrank you. don’t talk down to your captains, i have important business. now if you’ll excuse me i need to take these files to the knave, interrupt me again and i’ll make sure she hears about how you interfered with her collection of information.”

the man in front of you froze upon hearing the knaves name, he took a nervous gulp and apologized for intruding on your collection of data

you acted snarky, scoffing at this innocent lower level employee and giving him a dirty look to which he squealed at

you successfully exited the building and travelled back to abyssal headquarters to report your findings to the high council, hoping that perhaps you’d get promoted or at least a raise

you strutted into headquarters proudly, holding your head high and nodding at those who greeted you and welcomed you back

you may your way to the high council meeting room and presented the information you collected, spilling all the details of your mission and how the fatui managed to not suspect anything of you

the council was impressed and satisfied with your report, the most notable being the prince. aether was very pleased with your abilities and was prideful to have such an intelligent and skilled agent on his side of the war

“come here, i shall award you an honor not many have been able to accomplish.”

you walk closer to his throne and find yourself in front of the prince himself who was not only powerful and smart but also extremely handsome

“on your knees.”

you knelt carefully, placing your hand on your chest and closing your eyes to listen to your prince

aether took out his sword from its sheath and you shivered hearing the blade scrape against the metal cover, more gently than expected, the prince brought his sword to your shoulders and announced you a knight, one of the highest honors among the abyssal kingdom

“congratulations, you have become a knight and you will fight by my side, do not disappoint me. i trust in your abilities.”

you open your eyes and lift your head to look aether in the eyes, meeting him as he looked down at your kneeling figure

aether felt his heart pang at the sight, you who looked up at him as if he was the world, like you would do anything for him

your eyes glossed and your steady breathing causing your chest to rise up and down, the image was practically burned into his mind as he felt himself warm up within a matter of seconds

you were breathtaking, it was something he always knew but seeing you before him so willingly and effortlessly he found himself enamored with your beauty

“stand” he said firmly

despite his firm tone and professionalism, aether was dying on the inside fighting an army of nerves and trying to ignore the way his cheeks melted like ice cream

you slowly stood, keeping your hand to your chest and eyes in his. though you had no idea what he was going to say next you didn’t seem to care when looking at him, as if he had put you in a trance and made it impossible to look away

“let’s discuss your promotion in private quarters shall we?”

tagged: @aventurinesweetheart @z3nitsusgf @stygianoir

[middlingmay]

Genuinely, when I watch movies or a TV series now, I think: could this fit Buck and Bucky?

But I just watched The Crow and I'm not doing it. I'm not playing this game, it's too sad a story and I refuse.

So! How about some fluff instead:

Gale cannot cook worth a shit, like honestly he's worse than John. So when John is tired, or down, Gale makes him the fanciest thing he can: a club sandwich. And whenever John's co-workers ask what he had for dinner and he tells them, they all feel sorry for a grown man only able to have a sandwich for dinner. But they don't know it's John's favourite thing in the world because Gale is going the best he can. Even if the bread is cut too thick and the bacon is either too fatty or fried to a puff.

Gale suffers from back pain but never lets John massage him anymore. Because the first couple of times, he kept getting distracted and convinced Gale into having some fun, and it just made the back pain worse to be honest.

However, they discover that when John sprawls over the back of him, resting his full weight on Gale, it feels incredible. But ofc Gale can't come out and ask direct like a normal person. So he signals to John by coming to bed without a shirt, lying on his front and pointedly sighing from time to time whilst wiggling his butt.

John has to bury his face in his book so Gale doesn't see him grinning like a loon and trying not to laugh. Because it would not. end. well.

[confused-since-birth]

Razor's grip - Part three

other parts: 1 2

✨Notes: Good day everyone! I decided to write a little bit more in each part. Hope you will like it, kisses! ❤ (sorry for grammar spelling mistakes and typos)

✨Summary: Trying to build your career in the domain of protocores and science leads you into the Onychinus organization without knowing. Secrets surround you and Sylus and nothing is what it seems. It might be unexpected, but you two are more alike than you both think. What will go wrong? What will go right? Destiny is full of unexpected things, after all.

✨word count: 2014

✨warnings: none

A dark room appears right in front of you. Crying could be heard from somewhere that you can not see. You try to take a step forward only to slip and fall into a pool of something sticky and warm. Trying to lift yourself up, a hand is being outstretched by a figure whose face can’t be seen. The moment your fingers touch the cold skin, your palm erupts in stinging pain. The white hand from before is now covered in black crystals, deformed.

Knocking starts to ring in your ears rhythmically. It seems to have a pattern – short knocks followed by longer ones. Perhaps…morse code? A classic. You force your mind to listen carefully. The signal repeats itself once every six characters.

Dash, four dots. Three dots, two dashes. Two dashes, three dots. Dot, four dashes. Four dashes. Two dots, three dashes.

It repeats itself so many times that your ears start ringing painfully.

637102 – what’s that even supposed to mean?

Suddenly, the knocking gets more aggressive and loses any type of pattern.

The figure in front of you raises its head and blood starts falling out of it as it screams something you heard thousands of times in the last four years:

“HELP. ME.”

You wake up in cold sweat as someone is gently knocking at the door of your new room.

“Hey, are you up? Do you drink coffee?”, Philip’s voice could be heard from the other side.

Breathing deeply, hoping it would calm your racing heart, you get up from the bed and open the door.

“Uh. Yeah, I drink coffee. ‘Morning!”

637102. 637102. Keep in mind.

“Perfect! Are you ok? I have been hearing you thrashing around in here for a while.”

“Yeah, I’m good. Do you have a pencil and paper on hand? I must write something.”

The shop owner searches his many pockets and gives you a neon yellow sticky note and a pen. He leaves throwing you a reassuring smile, mentioning something about revision, test and tools.

You write as fast as possible the strange code. It’s not the first time this happens. Usually, the messages from your dreams range from answers for a certain problem that you’ve been trying to solve for a few days, glimpses of places that are completely foreign and… the deepest regrets that can be found in your soul, searching for vengeance. But codes? This is a first time.

Looking at the clock sitting on the nightstand, six in the morning, written in blue lines of light welcomes your eyes.

The first part of the day goes by unnoticed. It started with a series of questions about general topics – math, physics, chemistry –, it continued with details regarding protocores, protofields, and other many things. The old man seemed quite pleased with your answers and maybe got bored. He led you to a desk full of files, told you to analyze it and make a rapport, then left.

Alone now, your thoughts started running wild. Wasn’t the N109 Zone known for crazy illegal stuff? Will this turn to be a stain in your resume in ten years? How illegal can it be to analyze data from random protocores? After reading the first five, it might prove a little more illegal than it seems. Most of them have an amplification rate of the main energy curve at least three time the legal amount. You could be arrested only for breathing around this shop.

From one idea to another, you start thinking about your friends, your family. Maybe you can ask for a phone. A new one as the one you had might have been broken beyond repair when you fell last night. You must talk to them anyway. Your grandparents at least must know that you are alright. Not sure what to say to them, but you’ll make something up to be sure they are ok.

The bell at the door gets you out of your head. The two masked men from last night enter with their arms full of bags, humming a song that you don’t know, but gives away their good mood. It seems that they wanted to bribe you with sweets and food to forget what perspired the first time you met them.

They must thank whoever cooked such a delicious cheesecake, because it makes you want to be their bestfriend now, if it meant that they give this to you at least once a week.

With this occasion you learn their names and that they are twins. And they learn that you want to go home to get some things. And that you want to talk to your family.

“I don’t think that boss would be pleased with that”, says Kiernan.

“Your boss should learn to stop treating me like a prisoner instead of an employee.”

The two look at eachother, then at you. A long sigh leaves their chest.

“Alright, but if we get caught, it’s your fault.”

The door to your apartment was busted open. Surely, you didn’t leave it like this. Your eyes search for the twins. Funny how last night you fought them and now you search them for reassurance. The evil you know is more comforting perhaps. They don’t say anything about what is in front of you all, but the air has become heavy.

Your steps carry you slowly inside. Everything is out of place. Books fallen over; all your cabinets are open. The bedroom looks the worst: clothes thrown on the ground, furniture moved around, notes all over the place. A hurricane would have left the place tidier. You manage to get a bag to throw some things in it, while shock and fear slowly pull you into a sea of despair. Some tears gather at the corner of your eye, but you try to ignore them.

How can such a peaceful life that you build, be gone so fast, in a blink of an eye?

Besides clothes, you stuff the bag with books, notebooks and diaries which have the most important things that you might need. From now on you have to build yourself another way after all. The plan before was to try to run away, but they didn’t break into your apartment. Whoever did this might be an even bigger danger.

New plan: gain independence.

At the exit of your apartment complex the sight of a tall man with white hair and a pair of glasses welcomes you.

The watch. You forgot about the watch.

You were half expecting him to be displeased with your little walk. However, his face was nothing short of calm. His signature smirk played on his lips.

He looked like a model with his tailored coat, turtleneck and dress pants. The closer you got to him, the more your neck started hurting from looking up to him. What did he eat to get so tall?

“Got what you needed?”, he asked looking at your bag that could burst from how full it was.

“Yes. I’m sorry for going against your word, don’t get upset on the twins, I might’ve guilt tripped them a little to get me here.”

He doesn’t say anything, but gives you a sign to come with him. Sylus opens the door to a very expensive looking car for you, then he gets in himself. You don’t know where you two are going, nor do you have the courage to ask him. Almost the entire trip is silent, but not uncomfortable. His attention seems completely on the road ahead and you don’t want to disturb him, so you rest your head against your seat. The silence calms a part of your nerves.

“Do you want to talk to your family? Friends?”, Sylus asks while his eyes are stuck to the road.

“It would be nice, yes.”

“Alright, we’ll be right over, and you can call whoever you want.”, his deep voice sounds almost hushed.

“Thank you”, you silently reply, happy that you don’t have to fight about this.

“You are calmer today. Yesterday you seemed like a cornered kitten hissing and spitting”, a chuckle leaves his lips and you turn to him frowning wanting to say something, but nothing comes in mind.

Now the question is – what will you tell your family and friends? Out of doubt and uncertainty, you turn to Sylus hoping that he could help. After all, he created this mess, he can help you solve this.

“What do I tell them?”

For the first time since you got in the car, Sylus looks at you for a split second as silence falls again over the two of you.

“Half the truth always works. You got an internship at a company in another city, so… postponing your studies for a while to get more experience in the field didn’t sound bad.”

“Quite the smooth talker, aren’t we?”, you say as a smile creeps in the corner of your mouth.

“It’s not for nothing; I will need your presence later this week. Consider this an exchange”, he says looking at you with his signature smirk.

You chuckle and keep silent for the rest of the drive.

The car stops in front of a tall building. It seems to be a hotel. A restless feeling starts to build in your gut. Sylus senses your uneasiness and clarifies that he has a meeting in some time in the conference room of the hotel, until then he’s going to stay with you as you make your calls.

The interior of the large building leaves no place of doubt that this is a very expensive hotel. Marble on the floor and walls, everything that is metallic is gold colored, everything is squeaky clean, almost sparkling. Crystal chandeliers light up the place.

You feel inadequate in your baggy jeans and t-shirt. Walking on the marble floor in your boots feels like the most disrespectful act that could be done. Here and there, some people cast you curious or arrogant looks. Some look between you and Sylus with a quiet disdain.

You enter a room with Sylus in silence. Everything is full of good taste, black, white and gold surround you. He sits on the couch near the window and motions you to sit near him. You plop down on a chair beside the couch. Sylus pulls a phone from his trench coat and gives it to you.

“You put my phone card into your phone?”, you ask frowning, ready to tell him some not very nice things about how he should respect boundaries and private things of other people.

“It already has the phone card from your busted phone in, so just do your thing.”

His laugh sounds rich and elegant, angering you even more.

“Kitten, I don’t need hundreds of missed phone calls when I am in meetings or have other more important things. That’s your phone, the other one is destroyed.”

“You bought me a new phone? Is it like, part of my payment? Also, aren’t you afraid that I’m going to spill your private business or, I don’t know, put everything in danger, run away?”

“I told you to consider it an exchange. As for the other part… There are ways to assure this doesn’t happen.”, he says nonchalant.

After gathering all your calm and courage, you call everyone you think would need to know you are safe. Your explanation surprises them, but sounds pretty valid not to rise any other questions. Sure, it is strange, but at the end of the day everyone said that as long as you are happy and content, that’s all it matters. It went way better than you thought it would, thankfully.

Sylus tells you that your communication to them should be not frequent, without explanation, leaving almost immediately.

The twins drive you back at the shop after a drive full of their banter. Alone in your room, peace lets itself in your being knowing that now, no-one will worry that much about you. It gives you the power to go through whatever this is.

Perhaps your new boss isn’t as bad as you thought.

tags: @allura-miss @m00njinnie

[thatonelurkerchick]

Jayvik Fanfics Master Post

Created 5/4/25.

To End A War: A Zaunite Viktor Universe

Series Summary:

The life and times of Shimmer Doctor Viktor Talis and his unhinged puppy dog of a partner Jayce Talis. If someone had told the Machine Herald he would eventually be living in a cottage by a stream with four children with the Man of Progress of all people, he would have assumed they were very high on Shimmer.

Status: Trilogy. 2/3 stories complete. Actively posting story 3. May add an extras story?

Series Link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/4731367

To End A War

Summary :

For years, a war has been brewing in Piltover between the Council and the First Family of Zaun. With reports of Mel Medarda sneaking around his city, Silco decides the time is now to spring a trap and steal the other half of Piltover's Golden Couple. But what is really going on behind golden doors? Or: A politics-driven dark romcom featuring unhinged puppy dog Jayce and Shimmer Doctor Viktor.

Rating: M

Status: Complete :)

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63334120/chapters/162251734

A Bunch of Fancy Papers

Summary:

Life was looking up for Jayce Talis. The conflict between Piltover and Zaun came to an end with the Progress Day Peace Treaty. He could finally move on with his life and focus on building a future with his beloved soulmate, Doctor Viktor Talis, with their family and friends by their side. Unfortunately for Jayce, a bunch of fancy papers won’t magically solve all the issues that caused the conflict in the first place. But hey, at least his relationship is strong!

Rating: M

Status: Complete :)

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64257886/chapters/164932888

The Family of Tomorrow

Summary:

Two years after Zaun’s Independence Day, Councilor Jayce Talis and Doctor Viktor Talis have fully settled into their new normal with their adopted son, Blitzcrank, and expecting twins any day. Unfortunately, their past isn’t ready to be laid to rest with Singed still a constant shadow hanging over Viktor, Ixtali eyes ever watchful on Jayce, and the return of Ambessa Medarda. Or: Miracle Doctor Viktor and his unhinged overgrown puppy dog of a husband are finally forced to deal with issues they kept pushing off for later. Like what exactly is Warwick and why is he so obsessed with Viktor’s father?

Rating: M but honestly straddling the line between T and M. Better safe than sorry, yeah?

Status: In-progress.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64573849/chapters/165848821

The Defender of the Arcane and His Herald

Summary

Viktor and Jayce Talis made the ultimate sacrifice to end the Arcane Apocalypse. The old mage overlooking his ruined world thought his task was finally complete. The Arcane had other, grander plans. Her Defender would Ascend. Or: How Jayce Talis ascended to godhood on his quest to save Viktor and stumbles into his true destiny. If you can’t beat them, join them.

Rating: M - currently has some very very mild smut.

Status: In-progress. 100k+ words and largely prewritten. Act 1 and 2 completed. Can be read in acts if you do not like reading incomplete fics. Act links will take you to first chapter of the act.

Act 1: Into the Commune – Chapters 1-3

Act 2: Ascension – Chapters 4-12

Act 3: A Tale of Two Cities – Chapters 13-21ish?

Act 4: Happily Ever After? – Chapters ?-?

Note: Will be adding side fic once Act 3 is complete. Cannot post it until it is no longer a massive spoiler for the end of Act 3.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64296049/chapters/165042310

[stargirllt]

hi. pornstar by nessa barrett but charlie’s the pornstar and he has like a secret onlyfans and his afab/fem bestie (reader) finds it because she’s like “ooh this guy’s body is hot” and then she’s like “wait his voice is really familiar” and then she sees the tattoo on his arm and is like 👁️👄👁️ as she realizes the guy she’s been the biggest fan of is actually her best friend and then it’s literally the song and she kinda hints at it with him then blatantly pulls an “i know what you are” and then they fuck :3

found you 1/2

hey mika you're a genius i love you and im making this into a two part series and im sorry its so late

you'd just gotten home from work, finished your shower, eaten dinner, and now it was time to satisfy the insatiable hunger that'd been stirring in your core since you'd left work. you see, you had a bit of a crush on your best friend, charlie; but he couldn't know that, so you had to continue like things were normal. that included calling him every day on your way home. 

this time, though, it seemed like he was the one hiding something. he was stuttering the whole time, getting distracted more easily than usual, and he kept groaning softly into the microphone. that was the main cause of the pit of neediness beginning to make its way into your core. by the end of the call, you were soaked.

so here you were, alone in your room, hand between your legs, searching twitter for your favorite nsfw creator. it's not like you were some perv or anything. i mean, the only reason you watched him was because he sounded like charlie, okay maybe you were a perv.

anyway, when you check his account you see that he posted less than twenty minutes ago. about an hour after you got off call with charlie. it was just another audio, but the caption stated that he made on onlyfans. it had a full body view, excluding his face for obvious reasons. 

you contemplated it, like really did. and then you went back to the actual audio and played the whole thing. the clip was different from the others, he spoke in this one. and even more surprising, he let out a very quiet whimper of charlies nickname for you. your fucking nickname.

so obviously you exited out of the video and clicked the link to his onlyfans. his user was "@slime_kingg" surely you were just reading into things. surely it wasn't him. once you'd calmed yourself down from that episode, you remember about the aching between your legs. you sigh, reach one hand back down, and subscribe to the page.

this wasnt a proud moment for you, paying real american dollars to see the naked body of a man who vaguely resembles your best friend of years. however, you did already pay, so why not take advantage of it. you click the first available video on the page. 

the man is sprawled out on a bed with a vaguely familiar blanket under him, you can't quite place where you know it from. once you press play, you can see the vibrator tied to the tip of his cock. he reaches around to turn on the vibrator and you see it. charlie's tattoo. it's bright blue, unique, on the inside of his wrist, pretty hard to miss.

suddenly everything clicks. the man sounds like charlie because it is charlie. the nickname, the tattoo, the voice, the hiding. so you stop what you're doing and you call him. he picks up almost immediately.

"hello?"

"hey char! i have tell you something."

"of course, whats up, n/n?"

"i found it."

"w-what? what are you talking about?"

"you know. i know. slime_kingg? really?"

"ohmygod-"

"chill out, charlie. im not mad, i dont think you're weird or anything. but i do think you're a slut." you giggle at the end of your sentence, watching the anxiety leave him and slowly come back.

"thank you, oh my gosh. please don't tell anyone, it would ruin everything."

"i wont, char. don't worry. i do have a request though,"

"what is it?" he sounded anxious, worried, even.

"i want you to come over, and show me what you're doing to yourself when you record those audios."

radio silence. then, it comes. the jingling of his keys.

"im on my way right now."

"ill see you then, babe." you hang up the phone and realize what you just did. immediately you get up to do your makeup, clean up the house, and put on  your favorite pair of underwear. 

about twenty minutes later, he arrives, not even bothering to knock. he barges into your house, going straight to your bedroom when he doesn't see you in the living room.

"y/n? im here!" he yells, still in search of you. when he enters your room, he freezes. 

"charlie.." you stand and walk to him, stopping right in front of where he stood. he closes the gap, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours in a harsh, passionate movement.

you whine softly into his mouth. "god, charlie. are you gonna do what i asked you to?"

"mhm, is that okay? c-can i do that now?" 

"yeah, sweetheart. show me what you do when you're alone, when you record those audios, when you think about me. im just gonna watch." you sit on the edge of the bed, facing him. he strips himself of his clothes and lays back on the bed.

"i can't, i just ca-cant-" 

"you wanna see me baby?"

"mhm! yes yes please"

you slip off your t-shirt and unclasp your bra, now kneeling next to him on your bed. 

"you can touch me baby, only if you keep touching yourself, though."

he whines and reaches one hand out to lightly grope your tits while still pumping his cock. 

"oh you sound so pretty baby, can i- can i touch you?" you question, unsure if you're crossing a line or not.

"please touch me, m-" he cuts himself off and his eyes widen.

"what was that? what, what did you just call me?"

"please mommy?"

"good boy, i'll touch you."

"ohmygod thank you mommy,"

you wrap your hand around his throbbing cock and begin to stroke him.

"baby, you're leaking everywhere. so needy for me, so needy for your mommy."

at those words he perks up and his dick twitches in your hand. he whines loudly and tries to hide his face in your tits.

"oh baby, dont be embarrassed. are you close, char?"

he nods and continues to shake and whine before cumming all over your hand and shooting up to his stomach and lower chest. 

"so good baby, take your time." when he finally comes down from his high, he snuggles further into your chest.

"baby, i need to get up so i can clean you off."

"mmph," 

once the both of you were cleaned up, you lied together in your bed giggling and talking about nothing.

"charlie? i think next time we need to record this for your onlyfans."

"shut up" he laughs into your chest.

[mamawasatesttube]

i know you arent a fan of n52 and rebirth era dc comics and i was wondering what would have wanted to see instead? im still pretty new to reading comics and i like your take on things.

oh man. oh mannnn now that's REALLY asking!!!! i could probably write a 2000 word essay in response to this question. WAHOO

okay, so the shortest form of it: it's genuinely hard to balance keeping a company afloat and having to worry about what sells, vs telling good stories when you're working with twenty to thirty years of comics as prerequisite reading sometimes. and i understand that as a principle, and that dc (and i mean. everyone) was worried about low sales numbers and the economy being not great etc etc. so i get that they wanted to do something big to mix things up and get people talking and get a lot of attention. however..........

if you haven't already read it, i'd totally recommend this article for a good breakdown of what a total shitshow n52 was and how little planning or foresight went into it whatsoever. like, you read this and you go good LORD no wonder it crashed and burned so hard they rebooted it again after just 5 years.

ANYWAYS. as for what i would have done instead...

well, it depends on how self-indulgent we're letting me be. if i could walk back geoff's lex retcon i would do that in a heartbeat, and simply confirm kon as just 100% A Clone Of Superman.

i would also love to play in the space of super comics post-new krypton more, specifically wrt kon and the steels. i would LOVE a run like superman: the man of steel set in this era, focusing a lot more on clark & the extended superfam; i'd also want searching for chris to become a real storyline - it could be a long, overarching superfam theme for a while, sending them all over the place following this or that lead on how to get chris out of the zone after mon-el finds him, etc. like, there's def things to be done with that.

in terms of my personal self-indulgence... i want to see kon & kara on a space adventure together. pleaaaaase. i want cousin bonding and i want shenanigans and i also want deeply emotional talks about new krypton and also about the fact that linda lang wears conner kent's old glasses. please. please. please. a 6 or 12 issue mini/limited series of them off in space together wouldve been everything.

in general tbh with clark, john henry, kon, kara, and nat (and lois, tho like, obvs she's a civilian) all around i think having a superman team book wouldve been really good in this era, especially with the fallout of war of the supermen and all the anti-alien sentiment sam lane cultivated. digging into kryptonians as immigrants and refugees in the wake of that could have made for some really good and poignant storytelling.

i also would love like... a new titans book. not tt03. i don't like mike mckone's art i'm sorry and also everything about what that series did to kon and bart and cassie was so... ugh. but maybe a new book focusing more on the team and all actually liking each other, for one, instead of being full of cattiness and. eugh. like, a new titans book launch for the era of cassie healing as leader, tim coming back, kon and bart Being back, etc. you know? something a lot more hopeful than tt03 feels.

in my rich inner universe this all leads to a beautiful long slow burn for tim and kon having their queer realizations and working through those feelings in longform stories, not just "and suddenly he realized he'd been bisexual all along! and instantly started making out with the first boy available." specifically i would love to have seen kon have a solo with an arc of him running off to space to try and cope with those realizations, getting into a very brief messy and bad relationship reminiscent of those of his youth but gay this time, and then ultimately accepting himself and returning home. to me kon is a gay genderqueer man, and the realization that he's not into women and was just fabricating attraction his whole life bc he assumed he had to be into women to be like superman is very jarring to him. and i would LOVE to see that journey in comic form. in space.

these are mostly superfam thoughts because honestly there are not that many other characters/groups whose storylines ive read through all the way through 2011 slkjdfkld but with more research i definitely could have more to say re: others too <3 thank you for the question, it was a fun one to ponder!!

[eternallyordinary]

"He Belongs to You" - Part 25

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ˚ ༘ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ˚ ༘ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ˚ ༘ ⁺˚⋆｡

series masterlist<3

I'm so sorry for the wait but I hope it was worth it!! Will be better about keeping this updated <3

Summary: If being found still hurts, were you ever really lost?

Warnings: violence, death, kidnapping, power imbalance, possessiveness, manipulation, emotional tension, stalking, implied violence, murder planning, toxic relationship dynamics, yandere

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“Oi—lad didn’t stand a chance, did he?”

Who the hell is this? 

You’ve never seen this man before.

A total stranger, appearing in what will now be the most exposed moment of your life. 

Has this moment finally surpassed every trauma before this?

Every scar?

The day you killed a man.

The blood might wash off your skin, but it’s already soaked into something deeper. Into you. 

Andrew Bellamy will never leave your mind. No matter what he did, no matter who he was—he was broken. And now, he's dead.

And you did it.

Did you enjoy it?

No, no.

Don’t go there.

Your eyes flick to the crack in the floorboard—there it is, the syringe, glinting faintly in the low light. 

Quietly, you reach for it, slipping it into the waistband of your pants just as the man’s gaze drifts elsewhere, lost in the shadows.

“Guy was a bloody loon, wasn’t he?” the man mutters, crouching down. 

His boots are battered, his breath thick with menthol.

“Who are you?” you whisper, tense, ready to strike.

He doesn’t answer quickly enough.

You lunge—slam him against the wall. But his body gives too easily, his face pale and drawn. 

He’s sick. Cancer? Something worse? 

You pull back.

“Oh, don’t get soft on me, love,” he chuckles, hollow. “You’ve killed once today. What’s one more?”

Tears burn in your eyes. You’re glad there’s no mirror nearby—because if you saw yourself now, you might never look again.

Before you can even speak—before your lips can move at all—you feel it.

You feel him.

The air shifts like it recognizes him before you do. 

The floor seems to breathe with the rhythm of his steps, every creak and groan of the house pausing in reverence. 

His presence arrives first, even before the sound—before the weight of his boots or the low hum of restrained rage. It’s in the way your heart stutters, in the way your lungs forget how to pull in air.

Your body knows.

Your blood sings.

And then—you see him.

Homelander stands in the doorway like something divine and terrible, like a miracle with a heartbeat. 

The chaos coils behind his eyes, but it's the way he looks at you—like you’re gravity itself—that undoes you.

His gaze drags over you, takes in the blood on your skin, the glass in your trembling hand, the body at your feet. But it always comes back to your eyes. To you.

For one suspended moment, the world narrows to just him. Just this.

You don’t move. Don’t speak.

Your limbs feel leaden, your mind still drowning in the aftermath of what you’ve done.

But then—he says it.

“...Sweetheart,” he breathes.

That word. 

Sweetheart. 

And just like that, something deep inside you cracks. 

Your eyes sting. Your chest tightens. It’s almost enough to make you fall to your knees.

Before you can fall into his arms, he’s already gone—gone to him. 

In a blur of movement, Homelander lunges, slamming the man against the same wall you’d just released him from. 

Everything about him shifts.

The softness vanishes.

His entire frame tightens like a drawn bow, fury radiating off of him in waves. 

His jaw ticks. His lip curling into something that’s not quite a smile and not quite a snarl.

The warmth is gone—replaced by something wild, possessive, and lethal.'

All of it, burning just for you.

“Butcher,” Homelander growls, voice low and venomous. “Should’ve known this had your stink all over it.”

Butcher barely flinches. “Oi. Let’s not give me too much credit, mate.”

Homelander’s eyes flash. “I should’ve ended you a long time ago. But now? Now it feels like mercy. And you don’t deserve mercy.”

Butcher only smirks.

You stare at them, frozen—your mind racing. 

Butcher?

This man is behind all of this? The reason you were taken?

Who the hell is he?

“Easy, big guy,” Butcher wheezes, voice strained but steady. “You kill me, you lose your only shot at figuring out who else was involved.”

That lands.

Homelander doesn’t loosen his grip—but he hesitates.

“You think Bellamy pulled this off on his own?” Butcher spits blood to the side. 

“Kidnapping your girl, setting up that cabin with enough anti-supe tech to keep you out for over two weeks? Please. He had help. Real organized help. And I’ve got names lad”

Homelander’s expression flickers—just for a second. Then it hardens again.

“Why would you help me?”

Butcher’s eyes finally meet yours.

“I would never help you,” he says. “I’m here to help her.”

You freeze, pulse roaring in your ears.

Homelander lets him drop to the floor with a sickening thud.

“Talk,” he commands.

Butcher coughs, straightens, and smirks. “Only if she says I can.”

He’s not stupid. He knows who’s really in control of this room now.

Not Homelander. Not him.

You.

“You don’t know me,” you say, voice raw. “So why do you care?”

Butcher’s eyes lift to yours—tired, sunken, but focused. “No. I don’t know you.”

He pauses, letting the silence sit.

Then --

“But I knew someone like you. Someone who went through the same thing you did.”

Your heart falls into your stomach.

The past, always finding a way back to you.

“She was bright,” Butcher says. “Kind. Soft, when the world didn’t deserve her to be. But strong. Too strong to be broken easy.”

His voice drops.

“Her name was Becca. She was my wife.”

You blink. “Your wife.”

Butcher nods once. “She went missing. Years ago. No body. No goodbye. Just gone. Like Vought had erased her from the face of the earth.”

You glance between them, trying to make sense of the weight in his voice.

“When I found her, she was alive,” Butcher continues. “But not free. She was hidden away in a compound. Locked up. Controlled. And she wasn’t alone.”

He looks directly at Homelander now.

“She had a son.”

The silence turns ice cold.

You turn to Homelander slowly, trying to read his expression. 

He’s staring straight ahead. Blank. Guarded.

“You…?” The question dies in your throat.

Butcher answers for him. “Yeah. His son.”

You can barely breathe.

“I didn’t hurt her,” Homelander says quickly, eyes flashing to you. “It wasn’t like that.”

Butcher scoffs—loud and bitter. “She was working for Vought. Just another face in a sea of humans, right? Quiet, professional. You took interest.”

“I liked her,” Homelander mutters, defensive. “She liked me back.”

“Oi, gee lad. She smiled,” Butcher snarls. “You mistook that for consent.”

Homelander flinches—just barely.

“She told you no. Didn’t she?” Butcher presses. “Maybe not in words. Maybe in the way her whole body tensed up. In the way she froze while you touched her. In the way she stopped calling friends. Stopped leaving work.”

You feel like your chest is being crushed.

“She didn’t scream,” Butcher says. “Didn’t fight. You’re Homelander. What would’ve been the point?”

“She never said that,” Homelander bites back, but his voice is cracking. “She never—”

“She didn’t have to,” Butcher says quietly. “She was scared of what would happen if she did.”

You don’t realize you’ve stepped back until your shoulder hits the wall.

“She carried your son in secret,” Butcher says. “She hid him. Because she didn’t want him raised by a monster. She died trying to keep him safe. Trying to keep him from you!”

“I didn’t know.” Homelander’s voice is barely there as he turns to look at you.

“I didn’t know.”

Butcher’s glare is like a blade. “You're sick, mate.”

Homelander moves before anyone can stop him—he’s across the room, slamming Butcher into the wall, eyes burning white-hot.

“You think I wanted that? You think I meant to hurt her?!”

“She’s dead, you piece of shit!” Butcher roars in his face. “And you still don’t get it!”

You lurch forward without thinking, grabbing Homelander’s arm.

“Don’t.”

He freezes. 

Not because he wants to. 

Because you said to.

Andif he loses you now? He loses everything.

You don’t look at him. You can’t. Slowly, Homelander releases his grip.

Butcher crumples to the floor, coughing, shaking his head.

“She’s gone,” he murmurs. “And now the only woman who understands that kind of pain… is standing in front of the man who caused it to another.”

You stand there, trembling, soaked in blood and horror and silence.

Homelander turns to you like a man unraveling. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t realize.”

But you’re already gone. Not physically. Not yet.

But your eyes have drifted somewhere he can’t reach.

And for the first time in his life—

Homelander is afraid.

Not of Butcher. 

Not of consequence.

But of losing you right when he finally found you.

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tags: @raginginkedslut @emily048 @lilyalone @harlowedoktravelsthemultiverse @helreyy @forest-green-1994 @rainbowangel @naty-1001

[milgramfessing]

People are really odd when it comes to Mu in general. People swing between saying she's never done anything wrong ever, excusing her for literally telling the only doctor in the prison that Haruka was fine and implying he was eating,

24/06/22 (Haruka’s Birthday)

Shidou: ……I’m worried about Sakurai-kun. I haven’t seen him around in a while. You’ve been talking with him, right?

Mu: He’s fine. Here, look. I’ve been taking his food to him like this every day. Isn’t that great of me?

Shidou: Yes, very. I’m sorry I’ve been leaving it to you to look after him. Usually, that would be the job of us adults, and yet we’re leaving you with the burden.

Mu: Don’t worry about it. After all, me and Haruka-kun are friends.

Belittle her character by implying she's too stupid to understand the consequences of her behavior or the feelings of others around her. Despite how caring, observant, and socially aware she has shown herself to be over the course of the series.

20/05/28

Mu: It’s weird…… Even though we’re locked up in a place like this…… everyone seems fine. …………nothing’s happened to me so far…… b-but, who knows when they’ll do something horrible to me…… ……hey, are you listening to me? What are you staring at……?

Amane: I’m not staring at anything.

Mu: Liar, you definitely are…… What is it……? That rabbit? Jackalope…… I think that’s what it’s called. ……do you want to pet it?

Amane: ………… Eh, you want to pet it? If you want to, then I’ll be happy to go over and join you.

20/08/01

Mu: Somehow, he feels even fluffier today than usual…… so soft…… Ah, Haruka, do you want to touch too? Jackalope, I mean……

Haruka: Ah, I-I’m fine…… I’m n-not good, with animals…...

Amane: Hm. To think you’d have a problem with something so cute. You’re a really strange person, Haruka-san.

Haruka: …………I guess so.

All of her characterization gets downplayed and ignored as soon as she's done something harmful. In order to lessen her conscious involvement. People rudely go what was she meant to do to help Haruka she took him food she was trying her best to dissuade him.

Honestly, a good first fucking step would be to bring him something he can actually swallow and would settle on his stomach.

But maybe people are woefully ignorant of how starvation works. Maybe a lot of people don't know if you go long enough without food it becomes painful to even swallow or chew food. So bringing a starving man a whole fish and rice isn't the "I want to help" move people are making it out to be. But how was she supposed to know that- May I take you back to the timeline where she actively disuaded a doctor from checking on him?

Because I think the actual doctor would have been able to know and help in this situation while he was still alive.

If other characters can be responsible for how their actions or inaction indirectly hurt someone in and outside of Milgram despite how they couldn't have possibly known that would be the result what makes Mu better than anyone else who didn't know that they would happen, what makes her more deserving of justifications related to her age and alleged lack of knowledge?

The fucking kicker here is they canonically have something that would have saved Haruka's life in Milgram. If only it was just fucking given to him by one of the two parties that knew what he was doing before the point of no return.

20/06/09

Yuno: Thanks for the meal~! ……huh? Kotoko-san, what’ve you got? That’s so unfair, only you getting to drink something that looks so good.

Kotoko: ……it’s a whey protein shake. It doesn’t taste particularly good or anything. I sent a request for it to the guard. The food we get here isn’t bad in terms of nutrient balance, but it’s a bit lacking in protein for me personally.

Yuno: A protein shake, huh. I’ve never tried one before. It looks kinda like a lassi. Can I have a sip?

Kotoko: ……just one sip. Oi, that’s more than a sip. This is supposed to become my muscle.

But how could you be so sure Haruka could have been stopped through this method?

Well, for starters, it's something he'd be able to consume a little more easily (but may not be painless depending on how long it's been), unlike the food Mu was bringing. Two, it's something one could, in theory, force him to drink if it came to that.

Furthermore, protein drinks are literally what are recommended to help someone who has gone a long period without food get back into eating, be it due to illness or by choice. Because after going a long period withoit food it's not ussually recommended to eat foods that are heavy or too complex. It's either this, fluids, or a feeding tube. So, this is just something that factually could have straight up saved his life.

Beyond all that, he flat out admits this could have stopped him through him going out of his way to ask Kotoko (the one who has this) specifically not to interfere with his plan along with him being implied to have told her exactly what his plan was when asking her to not intervene.

23/12/15 (Kotoko’s Birthday)

Haruka: ……please, don’t tell anyone. And also, please, don’t get involved. All I can do, is ask, you……

Kotoko: ––Fufu, fufufufufu.That’s a crazy thing to be thinking. Honestly, it’s weird. But I don’t hate it. If only all the wrongdoers were like you.

Haruka: No…… that’s wrong…… That’s not, why I’m doing, this…… This, isn’t for me…… I have to protect…… so, Kotoko-san…… please……

Kotoko: Eh? Ah, yeah, yeah. Well, I promise I won’t get in your way. Honestly, if I could, I’d love to do it myself, but I’ll step back this time. As for what happens next…… I wonder. It depends on Es.

The Milgram prisoners have a shared kitchen. Everyone had access to this unless Kotoko was just hoarding it in her room, which I doubt. Yet even so, if anyone else was made aware of Haruka's plan earlier then they could have simply requested protein shakes themselves. Haruka did not have to die like this.

This is what makes Futa consistently bringing up the fact Haruka could have been saved so sad.

Futa (Trial 3 Voice Lines)

1 – Kajiyama Futa. Heh… Hahahaha. I see. Looking back, I probably didn’t need to be so scared.

2 – Who cares about forgiving and not forgiving any more. I don’t care about all the annoying voices I kept hearing. There’s something else more important to follow.

3 – I’m different from how I used to be. That person taught me. About faith, about the new world. It’s all down to me…

4 – There was nothing that could be done about the two who went against the commandments, but I feel bad for Haruka. He could’ve been saved like I was.

5 – Just leave everyone to that person. They can save this prison. Just look at me, I’ve already been saved!

It's what makes this timeline so sad,

24/04/19 (Futa’s Birthday)

Futa: ––Hey, are you really ok with this? If you come with me, there’s a chance you can be saved too…… Haruka.

Haruka: Yeah…… I’ve made my mind up. I have, something, that I have to do.

Futa: Ah, is that right…… Haruka, you know, you’re an idiot. There’s no way…… that will save you……

Haruka: Yeah, thank you. I’m glad you came to talk to me, Futa. Um, thank you, for being so kind. Really. But, I’m sorry. This is all I’m able to do……

Because it's the truth if he went with Futa in that moment if, he chose not to follow through when displayed the alternatives- Haruka would still be here. He would have a proper trial three and a song. Yet, instead of actually showing some consideration and understanding towards the people rightfully upset about the fact they won't have that closure with a character, they grew to care so much about...

Haruka and his characterization has been reduced to simple pity fodder for Mu. So people can go well she tried, she didn't fully understand, she's hurting too that was her friend, or the real kicker-

"Well, you should vote her innocent because that's what Haruka wanted. It's what he did that for. Do you want his last actions in the narrative to be in vain? This is why you should forgive her even though she didn't do as much for him as she could have. She just really didn't know."

As though we should just ignore the fact that despite Haruka crying out in All-Knowing All- Agony that he didn't want to be wiped out,

"Don’t wipe me out, don’t wipe me out- I just want to be your good boy."

Despite him saying blatantly he didn't want to die,

Q.17 How old do you want to live to be?

Haruka: I never thought about it. I don’t want to die.

The people who his character meant so much to are just meant to fall in line and show forgiveness to the person who blatantly said

"Why would I?"

When asked if she was trying to stop him since she knew his plan.

Mu Queen B 12:36s

Mu: Ah- But if you don't forgive me, Haruka-kun will die. So, I think it'd be best not to do that.

Es: ...!

[BELL TOLLS]

Es: So, you've heard about that nonsense, too?

Mu: Mhm. Haruka-kun told me. So I could rest easy, according to him. That made me happy... It made me really feel our friendship!

Es: You know about it, and you're not trying to stop him? Haruka, that is?

Mu: Why would I? Haruka-kun says that's what he wants, so there's nothing I can do, right?

Not letting people mourn and recognize what they've lost along with the unjust nature of that loss all to secure one's own personal comfort- To push forward in ways such as that is an inconsiderateness that's simply the definition of unfairness to me.

Especially while other people within the fandom are allowed to mourn the loss of characters they loved due to the events of the series- Blaming whoever they feel fit be it characters within the series or fans of it. All the while many haphazardly attempt to revise in real time what occurred to defend a character who I don't doubt has a significant amount of depth and emotionality but feel a lot of characterization is being ignored in the way people try to bend and stretch her to fit this idea of what an innocent person to them may be.

Though people may simply do this to ignore her character and the rest of the prisoners' ability to purposefully and knowingly commit harm, something rooted deeply in all ten of their characterizations. I'm sick of seeing people act like Mu is being wrongfully held to task over something she had no involvement in. From the start to Haruka, Mu was the only reason he did this, and the only reason he felt it was all he could really do.

23/04/07

Haruka: Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. PleaseforgiveMu-sanpleaseforgiveMu-sanpleaseforgiveMu-sanpleaseforgiveMu-sanpleaseforgiveMu-sanpleaseforgiveMu-san

23/06/22 (Haruka’s Birthday)

Mu: Haruka-kun, I brought your food. Are you still alive? Has any mould started growing?

Haruka: ……ah, thank you very much. Mu-san. Sorry, um…… I……

Mu: You shouldn’t just lock yourself in your room all day. You have to eat your food properly. Hm, well…… I do understand why you’re feeling down. It feels bad. The atmosphere recently.

Haruka: Um, I’m totally fine…… Just a bit, I’m thinking, about how to do it. What to do, what to do, to…… fulfil my promise. For Mu-san’s sake……

"This is all I’m able to do……"

"Haruka Sakurai"- The Third Trial 1:00s

Haruka: .....don't worry, Mu.

Mu: About what......

Haruka: ......you're going to be innocent, I know it.

Mu: ......you really think so?

Haruka: ......yes......

Mu: Haruka......you're ok with this......?

Haruka: Yes...... I'm so happy...... I helped you, I helped someone......

"I changed......I'm...... useful now......"

There's a lot of factors involved here, and I can understand caring about a character deeply and wanting to see them do well.

Yet, being Innocent doesn't equate to being better. Just being accepted isn't the end all be all cure for the problems people will face in their lives or within themselves.

Some characters aren't here to receive that acceptance or rejection anymore, and I think a lot of conversations surrounding Mu ignore that fact. As well as how many fans of the series have the right to be upset by it. Regardless of how others may rationalize and dismiss Mu's involvement.

[nataliescatorccioapologist]

A Travis Martinez Deep Dive/Character Analysis

Let’s talk about one of the most (if not the most) controversial characters in Yellowjackets! I definitely feel like many of Travis’ scenes and actions are misunderstood, so let’s dive in to his character and understand why he does what he does.

General Information

Travis Martinez is portrayed by Kevin Alves. He is described as being 16 years-old in the first drafts of the scripts, although it is unclear if he is still 16 in the final product or if he was aged up to 17 like the rest of the main cast in the teen timeline. His introduction in the script describes him as “lanky, sullen, teetering on the awkward, hormonal edge of impending hotness, a sensitive kid doing his absolute damndest to pretend he doesn’t care about anything.”

Travis attends Wiskayok High School in the (fictional) town of Wiskayok, New Jersey. His family consists of his father, Bill Martinez (who is the head coach of the Yellowjackets girls soccer team at WHS), his mother, and his little brother, Javi.

Relationship With His Family

We get a very brief glimpse into Travis’ home life before the crash in the Pilot episode, but it does give us a few hints of the conflicts present in his family. We see that Travis’ parents seem to have a distant relationship, with Travis’ father attempting to give his mother a kiss goodbye and her initially being resistant to it, but giving in only when she sees Travis watching. Travis rolls his eyes at this interaction, telling us it’s a common occurrence. Maybe it’s just me, but I’m definitely getting the sense that Coach Martinez has had some extramarital affairs and that Travis’ parents are only still married for the sake of keeping the family together.

Travis confesses to Nat that Coach Martinez was “a shit dad” and that he “didn’t even like” Travis. I think, at least in Travis’ mind, he has never been good enough to measure up to his father’s expectations. We get to see a brief sample of what Coach Martinez's parenting style may have been like in his scene with Jackie, in which his version of a "pep talk" is telling Jackie all of the ways in which the other girls on the team are better than her. I have a feeling Travis' dad often took the same approach with Travis; a gruff, "tough-love" demeanor that only resulted in a deep sense of inadequacy.

This dynamic has affected Travis' relationship with Javi, as well. My interpretation of their relationship is that, while Travis does deeply love and care for Javi, he also harbors some resentment towards him for receiving more softness and support from their father. This resentment only grows when the plane crashes and Travis is left completely responsible for Javi. He's feeling the pressure of having to be an example of masculinity for Javi and his new role as a father figure for Javi, all while dealing with the grief of his father's death. He's overwhelmed and afraid, and therefore he takes this out on Javi, which we can see particularly in the scene where he makes Javi spit out the gum their father gave him.

Travis is likely replicating the harsh parenting style of their father with Javi; it's all he knows. But, underneath, Travis loves Javi; enough to put himself through the trauma of digging up his father's corpse to get a ring for him and to trek through miles of snow in sub zero temperatures for months looking for him after he runs away.

This is why it is so, so heartbreaking when Travis loses Javi just as he's learning to show how much he loves him. My heart breaks at the thought that Travis will have to come back home and tell his mother that his father and little brother are dead.

Toxic Masculinity

It’s no secret that Travis is deeply, deeply insecure. And, as is the case with many young men, this insecurity manifests itself through sexism, unhealthy stoicism, hostility, and anger. It is important to remember that Travis is a teenager in the 90s, a time in which the sexualization of women in media was rampant. The Third Wave of feminism was underway, and with it came an increase of misogyny and backlash from men. Sexist jokes and comments were the norm, and Travis was likely surrounded by them in high school. As a result, we hear him call the girls "idiots," we hear him compare them to girls in porn magazines, we hear him tell Nat she should stick to "folding laundry" and "sucking ___" (we all know how that sentence was going to end). There's no true excuse for it, it's abhorrent behavior and it's unacceptable no matter what time period this is.

However, if we look into Travis' past, we can definitely find an explanation. Much of Travis' behavior can be drawn back to his insecurity and feeling that he is not good enough. We know he was bullied throughout high school as a result of Bobby Farleigh's "Flex" comment and we know that he feels like his father never really liked him; that he never felt good enough for him. Another aspect of Travis' insecurity can also be linked back to the idea of masculinity that has been fed to him by society: the strong, macho, stoic ideal. And it's clear (especially in Season 2) that Travis just does not fit this ideal. He's soft and sensitive, and because this goes directly against what he thinks he should be, he feels shame and embarrassment in himself.

And what do men do when they feel shame, insecurity, and/or sadness? They lash out. Men aren't allowed to show vulnerability, so they instead replace it with a more acceptable emotion: anger. And we definitely see this in the way that Travis lashes out at the people around him. And to make matters worse, Travis is one of the only men out there in the wilderness, making him feel even more pressure to be the strong masculine figure society expects him to be.

Reaction to Trauma

The pressure Travis feels to be "manly" bleeds into his response to trauma, as well. Travis has just watched his father die in a brutal and gruesome manner right before his eyes, and now he's out in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of teenage girls and a little brother to take care of. Most people would break down and cry.

Travis, on the other hand, is strangely apathetic. His only expression of emotion is anger. He snaps at Nat when she suggests that he help his brother, he yells at Javi and forces him to spit out the gum that is his only connection left to his father, he steals food from the others and blatantly insults them, and he essentially tells Javi to "get over it." Travis' coping mechanisms are clear: he distracts his grief with anger and he pushes away anyone that could possibly offer him support.

We see this again with another very significant trauma Travis endures: his sexual assault the night of Doomcoming. Travis is sexually assaulted by an entire group of girls, he clearly begs for them to stop (and they don't), and then he runs for his life and is almost killed. No one ever acknowledges this trauma and the next morning Travis is back to his usual ways, snapping at Natalie when she tries to emotionally support him and attempting to hurt her feelings to get her to stay away from him.

But it's clear, in both of these instances, that, underneath, Travis does care, and he is hurting. Despite him yelling at Javi, he wants to get his father's ring to make it up to him and support him. And when Nat doesn't budge and insists on helping him, Travis breaks down sobbing and admits that he "didn't want to" and that he is in love with her. (And in the script he even says that he wishes that Shauna had killed him that night, that's how strong his pain and shame are after Doomcoming!) Travis' hostile and abrasive behaviors are really a front he puts on to avoid being vulnerable, letting people in, and admitting to himself that he's struggling.

Relationship with Nat

Given Travis' tendency to push people away and hide his vulnerability, it’s not surprising that he forms a romantic connection with someone who mirrors his response to trauma: Natalie.

Their relationship starts off on shaky ground, marked by Travis' initial misogynistic remarks and even an incident where he points a loaded gun at Natalie. Despite this, Natalie is the only person who seems able to see through Travis' anger. Her own experiences with trauma—particularly the loss of her father—give her a deep understanding of what Travis is going through. Like him, she has developed a habit of distancing herself from others, driven by the pain of watching her father die and the lingering guilt of feeling responsible for his death.

This shared trauma—witnessing their fathers’ deaths and carrying the weight of guilt—creates the foundation of their connection. One pivotal moment that cements this bond is the scene where Natalie makes her first kill. Kevin Alves has explained that when Natalie and Travis kneel beside the dying deer and exchange a knowing look, it symbolizes the shared grief they both carry. In this moment, they are not just mourning the animal but, more profoundly, mourning their fathers together.

This scene serves as the emotional cornerstone of their relationship, which stretches over the next 25 years. Both Natalie and Travis are driven by guilt, shame, and self-loathing, and they both struggle with showing vulnerability. They have a pattern of pushing people away before anyone can get too close—a tragic cycle that defines their bond. They are trauma bonded and similar in all of the worst ways, which is what makes them so codependent and enmeshed, as they believe that no one else will ever understand them the way they understand each other.

Of course, Travis’ insecurity finds its way into his relationship with Nat, too. When Nat and Travis discuss having sex for the first time, Travis infamously asks Nat how many guys she has slept with. Nat immediately bristles, thinking that Travis is implying that she’s a “slut”, but, as the scene unfolds, we realize that Travis is actually just insecure about his own virginity in comparison with Nat’s sexual experience. He’s worried that, because of Jackie’s previous comments about Nat, sex with him won’t mean anything to Nat, whereas it would mean a lot to Travis. We can see how much relief he feels when Nat assures him that it does mean something to her, and “especially with him"; when she affirms he is good enough.

Travis’ tendency to get in his own head unfortunately makes itself known again when they actually attempt to sleep together; when Travis can’t get it up and runs out of the room. I think the script for this scene reveals a lot about what is actually going on in Travis’ head:

Travis’ feelings of inadequacy are spiraling here. He’s in awe of Nat and doesn’t feel good enough, and the pressure he’s putting on himself as a result is too much for him (and other parts of him…) to handle. As time passes in the wilderness and Travis lets go of some of his insecurity, we can see he becomes more communicative and releases some of his ego and insecurity as he discovers his spirituality (which we'll get into more in the next section).

Travis's love for Natalie is undeniable, but their relationship is inevitably toxic due to their shared trauma and self-destructive behaviors. After the crash, both turned to drug addiction as a way to numb their pain. Though they’ve tried to help each other stay clean over the years, their connection often pulls them back into destructive patterns. Every time Travis seems to be on the path to recovery, Natalie reappears, and she drags him back down with her again.

Javi’s death will create a huge, irreparable rift between them. It’s likely that Travis harbors deep resentment toward Natalie, not only for surviving when Javi didn’t but also for being a constant reminder of his lost brother. Yet, paradoxically, she is all he has left, and the thought of losing her, too, is unbearable. Despite their genuine love and care for each other, their relationship is fundamentally harmful.

Spirituality, Relationship with “The Wilderness,” and Development of a More Feminine Sense of Self

Season 2 marks a major shift in Travis’ character, and much of this is due to his newfound connection to Lottie. Travis’ desperation to find Javi makes him crave a sense of hope, and therefore makes him open to the idea of The Wilderness. Travis begins attending Lottie’s rituals, and expresses gratefulness towards her for the blood tea and reassurance that Javi is alive. As Travis becomes increasingly attached to Lottie and The Wilderness, we also see him become kinder, softer, and more vulnerable. Travis’ connection to The Wilderness allows him to release the societal norms and expectations that previously guided his toxic behaviors. He can let go of society’s idea of manhood and become a more authentic version of himself. We see that Travis has started to let himself show weakness, express emotion, and is much more open-minded and willing to consider other perspectives.

Lottie definitely becomes an important person to Travis in Season 2. I want to make something clear right now because I feel like it it very often misinterpreted. The writers have stated that Travis’ connection with Lottie is not meant to be interpreted as sexual in nature. Rather, Travis’ scenes with Lottie are meant to represent his spiritual connection with her and his need for guidance. The infamous sex scene between Natalie and Travis in which Travis has visions of Lottie present in the room is not Travis wishing Lottie was in Nat’s place, rather it is meant to represent the internal battle Travis is experiencing between his romantic love for Nat and his need for hope and spiritual belief. Lottie is being shown as a spiritual, religious figure in this scene. She’s not depicted in a sexual manner in Travis’ visions, but rather in a nurturing, holy light.

Nat and Lottie are directly opposed in this Season, with Nat representing pragmatism and Lottie representing faith. Travis is caught in the middle with his romantic connection to Nat and his faith in Lottie. While Nat tells him his brother is dead, Lottie tells him she knows he’s alive. Travis loves Nat, but it’s clear their differences in faith are creating a rift between them, and this rift is symbolized visually in their sex scene.

While Travis’ turn towards faith and spirituality does bring out a better, more likable side of him, it does, unfortunately, directly lead to his death in the adult timeline. While we likely won't get to see any more of Travis' story in the adult timeline, I am looking forward to seeing how he continues to develop in the wilderness and how his newfound spirituality and increasing disconnection with society will change him as a person.

Overall, while Travis can certainly be a deeply dislikable character at times, his development over the past two seasons has been fascinating to watch and he definitely has some hidden complexities that are starting to reveal themselves to the audience. Here's to Travis continuing to connect to his feminine side in Season 3!

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[jerswayman]

LOVE THY GOALIE. GIVE THY GOOD BOY HEAD PATS.

[orengejoshi]

Pregnancy as a kink makes me uncomfortable so man am I glad your pregg Flug stuff is explicitly not kink oriented!

yeah I... don't wanna judge anyone... but it's more than that, it's downright terrifying to me. Blame my hormones bc I'm expecting irl but wow... I'm very sensitive and it feels dehumanizing. but ig that is kinda the point of the kink(?)

it's so common in fandoms!

I'm completely vanilla anyway tho, so not surprising.

I've tried to pretend for a super long time that I'm into kink, but most of them are off putting and I consider them intrusive thoughts, not fantasies. I'm kinda fluctuating between sex-repulsed and neutral (aroace) even fictional... ig kink just isn't for me. I tried so hard to get over it. I know some people in my asks/requests are gonna be disappointed but I'm sorry💔

I'm slightly ashamed of how boring I am and I have serious trouble connecting to anyone in fandoms due to this actually🤕 feel like the most NT autistic person ever.

anyway here's a doodle!

[bird-inacage]

The Heart Killers Trailer | KANT

That's all. Just First motherfucking Kanaphan looking DELICIOUS.