#the sky above my head the ground beneath my feet

[d1stalker]

Collateral Damage [Logan Howlett]

SUMMARY: The X-men are heroes—they save the world, eradicate threats and protect both mutants and humans alike. You don't see it that way, though.

WARNINGS: one-sided e2l, fem!reader is stubborn and sassy af but it's valid, arguing, canon-level violence, scott's a dick, SMUT - 18+ only! WC: 21k - MASTERLIST

A/N: i've always wanted to write a fic with this plot, it's been on my mind for AGES. happy reading!

----

The first time you see them, it’s on your birthday.

Not being one for big, elaborate parties, you planned a quiet celebration instead—maybe a stroll through the lively city streets, followed by dinner with friends later. You had just visited your favourite store, buying a gift for yourself, and now you’re on your way back home.

The streets buzz with life as people shop, eat, and laugh, making it the perfect backdrop for a peaceful walk and some casual people-watching.

Then, out of nowhere, the ground trembles.

At first, you think it’s an earthquake—a quick jolt beneath your feet that sends a ripple of confusion through your body. But the tremor grows stronger, the ground shaking violently as everyone around you begins to panic, frantically looking around for the source, you included. And that’s when you see it. 

A hulking, green monster stomping through the city streets like something out of a nightmare. It has to be at least twenty feet tall, its skin a sickly shade of green, its eyes glowing with rage. Cars bounce with each heavy footstep, leaving deep footprints in the cement in its wake.

People scream, scrambling to get out of its path, but you stand frozen, heart pounding as you try to make sense of what’s happening. In the blink of an eye, the city had been plunged into chaos. You lose track of your surroundings, too busy trying to keep your eyes on the monster headed your way, while also dodging the hoard of pedestrians running for their lives.

Until they show up.

Initially, you don’t even notice them. After all, there’s so much going on around you at this point you barely know what to do with yourself. Yet, through the dust and destruction, you see flashes of movement—figures darting toward the monster with a sense of purpose. 

You don’t know who they are, but their bright blue and yellow suits make it seem like you should. At first glance, it’s hard not to feel a sense of awe. They move with such confidence, with their powers on full display for the world to see. You’ve never seen anything like it—a team of mutants using their powers in the open, fighting for what you assume is the greater good.

Maybe they can stop this!

The one first to act is a woman with white hair. She raises her arms to the sky, her eyes glowing a bright white as dark clouds swirl above, blocking out the sun. A flash of lightning slams into the monster's chest, forcing it to reel back with a thunderous roar of agony, and the crowd around you gasps, watching in wonder.

But when the lightning strikes a second time, it veers off course, crashing into the side of a nearby building. The structure groans under the impact, flames erupting from the point of contact as windows shatter, sending glass raining down onto the street below.

The collision sends you to the ground, and when you look up again, you see the power inside go out, all the lights flickering off.

Whatever awe you’d been feeling dissolves into concern, a sinking feeling settling in your chest.

Following her, a man with a glowing red visor strides forward. He’s clearly aiming to hit the monster, but the bright red beam shooting from his eyes slices through several cars in the street first, flipping them over and leaving them in smoldering wrecks. One of the blasts tears through a storefront, reducing it to rubble in a matter of seconds. More people scream and scatter, trying to escape the destruction.

From the corner of your eye, you see another mutant—a man with claws—lunge toward the monster, jumping onto cars to get closer to its head. But by using the parked cars as springboards, the weight of him causes the roof to sink in, and his claws leave deep gashes in the metal. 

How heavy is this guy? Is he made of metal or something?

He’s fast, brutal, slashing at the green beast with some serious ferocity. Still, despite the attack, the monster’s strength prevails, and it easily tosses him aside, crashing into buildings, crowds—anything in the way. To your surprise, he always gets back up. And that should be good, right? They are fighting for the safety of the city. 

But as debris rains down and cars are overturned, you can’t help but feel like this isn’t helping. You’re constantly dodging rubble, trying to find shelter, only for it to be destroyed seconds later. It’s like being in a war zone, and it doesn’t seem to be getting better.

And above it all, there’s a woman with red hair. She’s floating, and you watch from where you’re hiding as she lifts entire trees from their roots, hurling them at the monster in an attempt to slow it down. Except, much like her teammates, her attempt goes awry, and she misses, the trees now flying toward you. 

You barely have the reflexes to dive out of the way.

Your heart races, breath coming in shallow bursts as you press yourself against a wall, trying to steady yourself. The sound of sirens blare in the distance, but it doesn’t seem like help is coming anytime soon. There’s too much going on. People are running, pushing each other aside, crying, screaming, trying to find safety.

Glancing around, you’re met with destruction—flames licking at the sidewalk, cars totaled, and building wreckage littering the streets. These mutants, while clearly powerful, are causing just as much destruction as the monster itself.

What should have been a simple takedown—a 6v1—has turned into a full-scale disaster.

And yet, they don’t stop. They don’t pause to help the people caught in the crossfire, don’t even seem to notice the damage they’re causing. They’re so focused on the monster, so focused on the fight, that they’ve lost sight of everything else.

Is this what heroism looks like? You’d been excited at first—amazed, even—thinking they were here to save the day. But now, standing in the middle of a city that’s being torn apart, you realize how wrong you were.

They don’t care. Not about the city. Not about the people. 

Finally, with one last blast from the man with the visor, the monster collapses to the ground, defeated. It lets out a final roar before falling still, its massive body sprawled across the street.

The team stands over its body, their chests heaving with exertion, but they have smiles on their faces, feeling victorious. One by one, they board an aircraft, dragging the monster in with them, barely sparing a glance at the horrors they’ve caused. The white-haired woman doesn’t even bother to clear the storm clouds she summoned.

Within moments, they’re gone. You, and everyone else in the area, are left to deal with the fallout. Left to clean up their mess. 

Happy birthday to me, I guess.

—

After that, you spend the next few days trying to process what had happened. You’re still in a state of shock, confusion, and disbelief, but then the media catches wind of what went down, and suddenly, it’s everywhere.

News channels replay the footage over and over, the headlines screaming about “our holy saviours” saving the day. They’re plastered across every screen, being hailed as protectors.

The X-Men.

A group of mutant superheroes, apparently. The reporters list them off one by one, like they’re celebrities you should have known about. 

Storm. Cyclops. Wolverine. Jean Grey.

Mutants with powers like gods.

—

The second time you see them, you’re on vacation.

Sitting in a quaint café in the south of France, you’re enjoying a well-deserved break. The city you’re in is perfect—cobblestone streets winding through the village, vine-covered walls framing pastel-colored houses, and the scent of fresh bread drifting from nearby bakeries. It all feels like something out of a dream, the kind of peaceful retreat you’ve been desperate for after everything back home.

You order a frappé, and as you wait, you idly flip through a local newspaper, trying to see how much of your rusty high school French you can remember. It’s peaceful, quiet, exactly what you needed—until it’s not.

Movement out of the corner of your eye grabs your attention, and you glance over the edge of the newspaper, watching a group of tourists as they walk into the café. It’s not really anything odd, so you don’t think much of it—they’re dressed casually, like any group of vacationers.

Though, something about them tugs at the back of your mind, a nagging feeling that you’ve seen them before.

You lower the newspaper entirely now, staring as you try to place where you recognize them from. The tall one with the red sunglasses, the woman with the striking white hair, the man in the leather jacket... You squint, the pieces slowly falling into place.

And then it hits you.

Oh, no way.

You’re halfway around the world, in a different country, on a different continent, and somehow, they’re here. At the same café. 

Shifting in your seat, you’re trying to figure out what the hell is going on, when the barista arrives with your drink. He smiles warmly at you, placing the cup down on the table with a soft “voila madame,” but before you can even thank him, there’s a blur of motion.

One of them—Wolverine, you think—lunges at the barista, grabbing him by the collar and shoving him back. The tray tips, and your frappé spills everywhere—all over the table, your newspaper, and, to your absolute horror, all over you. 

“Logan, no!” you hear Storm shout, but it’s too late.

The cold drink soaks into your clothes, and you let out a startled yelp, jumping up as your chair topples over. Your clothes are ruined, your vacation ruined, and in the midst of all of this?

Wolverine—or Logan, you guess, is wrestling with the poor barista.

“What the hell?!” you shout, trying to shake off the liquid dripping down your legs. “Is this a joke?!”

No one hears you, or even acknowledges you.

The other mutants jump into action, and before you know it, the peaceful café is transformed into yet another battleground. Cyclops blasts a beam at the barista—who you now realize must be the target of whatever mission they’re on—but it misses, smashing into the wall behind you. 

You’re furious, covered in a brown drink that makes it seem like you just had explosive diarrhea, and caught in yet another X-Men fiasco. All you wanted was a vacation. You don’t even know what’s happening anymore—who the barista is, what mission they’re on—but frankly, you don’t care.

This is absurd!

Without a second thought, you grab your bag and make a break for it, dodging overturned tables and debris as you make your way to the exit. You don’t bother looking back, your only thought being to get changed, and get as far away as possible.

After rounding the corner, putting some distance between yourself and the café, you pause for a moment to catch your breath. And then you hear it.

Boom.

The sound reverberates through the narrow streets, shaking the cobblestones beneath your feet. You whirl around, sticking your head out from the corner of the building, just in time to see a plume of smoke rising into the air from where the café once stood. 

Your heart sinks.

They blew it up.

—

The third time you see them, it’s a really nice day outside.

It’s a week after you’ve returned home, and the weather had finally given you a break from the suffocating heat. You’re walking home from a lunch with an old friend, when your phone buzzes in your pocket. Probably said friend sending you something stupid to laugh at later. 

You chuckle, already anticipating the joke, when—

BAM!

Something slams into you from the side with the force of a freight train. You’re airborne for a second, weightless, before crashing hard onto the pavement, your breath knocked right out from your lungs. 

Dazed, you groan and blink up at the sky, trying to get your bearings. What the hell just hit me? Your vision swims as you sit up, shoulder throbbing from the impact. Twisting your neck to see whatever the hell that was, you immediately regret it, wincing at the sharp pain. 

Great, just great.

When you finally manage to sit up, you spot the culprit.

Cyclops.

Are you fucking serious?!

His back is to you, dusting off his ugly uniform like nothing happened. You look around, and notice that the street in front you is in ruins—buildings have gaping holes where windows used to be, chunks of the road are crumbling, people covered in blood scurrying away as fast as they can. 

Just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, you catch a glimpse of the giant mechanical robots looming above, scanning for their targets. One of them must’ve thrown Cyclops into you. 

You can see the others—Jean, Storm, Beast (some new guy)—flying around, saving the world. That’s codeword for: wreaking havoc, destroying your city.

Anger boils up inside you, hot and unrelenting as you struggle to your feet, rubbing your sore shoulder. But as you open your mouth, a gruff voice cuts through the air.

"Good job, dickhead. You just hurt a civilian."

Your gaze snaps toward the sound. Wolverine’s standing a few feet away, claws out, glaring at the guy who sent you flying. 

“I was thrown, Logan,” he says passively. “Maybe if you kept the Sentinels off me—”

“Maybe if you didn’t stand there like a damn target, you wouldn’t get thrown!” The clawed mutant growls, taking a step closer. His whole posture is tense, like he’s barely holding himself back from tackling the other man into the ground (you would pay to have him do it). “Seriously, Summers, it’s like you want to get tossed around.”

Cyclops doesn’t even flinch. “We’ve got bigger problems than this right now,” he dismisses, not even glancing back at you to check if you’re okay. 

Well, there goes the last of your patience.

"Are you kidding me?!" you shout, throwing your hands up in disbelief. They completely ignore you, too absorbed in their petty bickering to acknowledge that you’re still standing there, seething.

Before you can rip into them, something catches your eye—a Sentinel (is that what they’re called?), hovering above them, charging up a blast. Its arm is raised, energy crackling at the barrel of its cannon, aimed directly at the two distracted morons.

“Oh, for the love of—” you mutter under your breath before diving forward.

The blast hits you square in the chest, but instead of pain, all you feel is the heat of the energy surging through your body, like lightning spreading through every inch of your veins. It crackles and burns, the force building up inside you until it feels like you’re about to explode.

Then, with a deep breath, you thrust your hands forward, channeling and releasing the blast right back at the robot, blowing it apart. Metal and circuits rain down, the Sentinel crashing into the ground with a deafening thud.

Silence falls.

You’re panting, feeling the leftover energy fizzle out of your fingertips. Slowly, you turn back around, and unsurprisingly, Cyclops–or Scott, as you’ve heard in the news—and Logan are staring at you like you just walked on water. Well, the clawed one is. You can’t really see the other brown-haired man’s expression due to his visor.  

“Woah, bub—”

“Oh, hell no!” You spin around fully, pointing an accusatory finger at both of them. “Neither of you get to speak! I just saved your asses because you were too busy bickering like children to notice the massive death robot about to blow you to pieces!”

Logan’s mouth quirks up, but he wisely stays silent.

“And this is exactly why I hate you people!” You continue, exasperated. “You swoop in, make a mess, destroy everything in your path, and then just leave like nothing happened! You think this is helping anyone? You think the people running for their lives right now give a damn about your little team squabbles?”

Scott doesn’t even blink. “We’re just trying to help,” he says evenly, like he’s rehearsed the line a thousand times.

“Help?” you scoff incredulously. “You only tell yourself you’re doing that to make yourself feel better. How many casualties do you think are coming out of this, hm? What’s the body count gonna be after today? Or do you not even bother counting anymore?”

His audacity makes you want to laugh.��He opens his mouth to respond, but you’re not done.

"All this mess, the destroyed buildings, the people who won’t make it home tonight because you couldn’t keep your damn fight contained! You’re so focused on stopping the big bad guys that you don’t even realize how much carnage you leave behind. Who’s cleaning up after you? Who’s paying for this?! " You gesture around wildly. "News flash: the people whose lives you’re currently ruining!”

Beside him, Logan’s smirk fades, and he begins to step forward with his hands raised. “Listen, darlin’, we’re doin’ the best we can. We didn’t ask for this fight—”

"Oh, don’t give me that ‘best we can’ bullshit," you snap.

“We’re here to protect people,” Scott adds in, trying to maintain authority. “It’s not always clean, but we are making a difference—"

“Shut the fuck up! I’m not finished!” You interrupt, shaking your head. “Every day. Every damn day there’s something new.”

With the face Logan’s making, you’d think he’s going to start going in on you, but he doesn’t. Instead, he just watches, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he’s trying to figure you out. It’s unnerving, but you don’t care. You’ve had enough.

"And you," you say, turning your ire toward him, "You couldn’t have, I don’t know, used your super speed or whatever the hell you do to catch him before he crashed into me?"

His eyebrow quirks up. “Super speed?” he chuckles lowly. “Ain’t that fast. Was a little busy with the giant killer robots.”

You tilt your head back in frustration and turn on your heel. "I’m done. I don’t care what kind of mission you’re on, or how noble you think it is. If you're planning to lay waste to the city yet again, be my guest.”

Giving no time for a response, you stalk off, weaving through the wreckage of the city streets, your heart still pounding in your chest. 

—

A couple weeks have passed since the last incident, and the X-Men seem to have disappeared from the headlines. You haven’t seen them or heard their whereabouts splashed across the news like you’ve gotten used to—though not by choice, of course. Whenever they do anything, the world seems to bow at their feet.

You don’t get it.

The flashy suits, the team name, the way they strut around as if they’re the Gods of the mutant race. It’s too much, too loud. They act like they’re above it all, as if their powers and heroics put them on a pedestal. Better than those who prefer to lay low, who have no choice but to blend in.

You’ve spent years hiding your powers, keeping them buried deep where no one can see. When you were younger, you didn’t have a choice. Your mutation made you a target—bullied, beaten up, pushed around for being different.

You learned quickly that being a mutant didn’t make you special. It made you vulnerable.

So, you hid. You stayed quiet, under the radar. It was safer that way.

And then here are the X-Men, parading around like their abilities make them untouchable, like they’ve forgotten what it’s like for the rest of you. It’s not that you don’t believe in helping others—you just don’t believe in the way they do it.

In your opinion, it’s all performance. From what you’ve experienced and seen up close, they always arrive with a fanfare, ready to jump into action, and do whatever they can to exterminate the threat. Yet, when the dust settles, it’s mutants like you who are left to pick up the pieces.

The ones who don’t wear brightly coloured costumes or shout about unity. You’re the ones who have to keep moving, keep surviving, without any recognition.

But it's not like you need recognition. You never have. What you need is peace.

—

You’re on the phone with your mom, trying to reassure her for the millionth time this week.

"Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry, Mom, I’m fine," you say, pacing the length of your small living room. You glance at the muted TV screen, the news still cycling through the usual mayhem. "You’ve seen the news recently, right? We’ve got the X-Men to take care of all this stuff—"

Knock. Knock.

You freeze mid-sentence, your words trailing off as the sound of someone at your door interrupts the call. Your heart skips a beat, and your voice drops. "Mom, I’ll call you back."

Barely waiting for her to reply, you end the call, staring at the door like it might explode.

A knock at this hour? Unannounced? You waver, your mind racing with possibilities.

Delivery? A neighbour? You’re not expecting anyone.

Cautiously, you make your way toward the door, hand hovering over the handle as you listen. No more knocks, just the faint hum of the outside world. You take a breath, steeling yourself as you turn the handle and crack the door open.

The tufts of hair, the thick stubble, the edge in his eyes—it’s him. Wolverine. And just as your brain registers his face, you also notice the glint of metal where his claws are already halfway out.

Instincts kick in, and before he can get a word in, you push against the door, trying to slam it shut.

Still, he’s faster.

His fist punches through the wood, and with a metallic snikt, his claws extend fully, slicing through the door as if it were made of paper. He pushes it open again, forcing it against your effort, and the sheer strength sends you stumbling back.

“What the fuck?” you gasp, eyes wide as you steady yourself. “How did you even find me?”

Stepping inside, he says, “picked up your scent and followed it,” matter-of-factly, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

For a moment, you just stare at him, dumbfounded. “That’s… that’s actually really creepy,” you manage, still trying to process the fact that he just said that without a hint of shame.

“Can’t control it, bub,” he shrugs. 

You take a step back, putting more distance between you and the man with the claws standing in your apartment. “Okay, well, you found me. Now what?”

His eyes lock onto yours. “I need you to come with me.”

“Excuse me?” You cross your arms, eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. 

“You’re not safe here.”

“Oh, I’m not safe?” you snap, sarcasm dripping from your voice. “Maybe if you and your merry band of idiots didn’t keep causing world-ending disasters, I wouldn’t need to be safe!”

He doesn’t even flinch. “Sentinels are tracking you down.”

You falter. “What are you talking about?”

“You used your powers,” he states. “Killed a Sentinel. That’s all it takes for them to target you.”

Blinking, you feel anger rush to the surface, your skin tingling with rage. “I didn’t kill anyone. They’re fucking robots.”

“They don’t see it that way,” he counters. “You took one down, and now they know what you are.”

Part of you knows there’s merit in what he’s saying, but you don’t want to hear it. The last thing you want is to be dragged into some mutant-robot war. “This is ridiculous. I didn’t ask for any of this!” you hiss, glaring at him. “And now you’re telling me I’m on some kill list because I defended myself? Because I defended you?!”

His eyes flicker with something you can’t quite read, but he stays silent, watching you carefully. Your words start flying faster now, venom spilling into each one.

“I’m the one who took that thing down because you and that one-eyed bitch boy were too busy being immature! You weren’t even paying attention, and that thing almost blasted you both.” Your fingers ball into fists. "I saved both of you, and now I’m the one who has to run?"

Logan's jaw clenches, his nostrils flaring at the accusation. “We weren’t—”

“Don’t even try to deny it,” you cut him off. “If it weren’t for me, the two of you would be dead right now. And now I’m supposed to just go with you to your mansion and hide out? Like that’s going to fix th—”

You don’t get to end your rant, because he has stepped forward, and grabbed your shoulders, gripping you firmly. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to snap your attention back to him.

“This is serious,” he spits, eyes boring into yours. “You stay here, you die.”

His words slam into you. He’s not trying to scare you—he’s telling the truth.

“You don’t get to be stubborn about this,” he continues firmly. “You think you’re pissed off now? Wait until they come crashin' through your door in the middle of the night, and you don’t have a chance to fight back.”

Wrenching yourself out of his grasp, you take a few steps back. “I just—” you begin to say, but the words feel tangled in your throat. The denial is still there, but it’s weakening, cracking. “I don’t want to run.”

“You’re not running,” he sighs, his voice softening ever so slightly. “You’re buying time. Time to fight back, time to survive. But if you stay here? There’s none of that.”

You want to argue more, want to scream at him to get away, to not drag you into his fight, but instead, you let out a long, shaky breath, your shoulders slumping. “Fine,” you breath out. 

He nods, finally releasing his grip on you and stepping back. “Good. Pack up your shit. We leave in half an hour.”

Then, he walks over to your couch and plops down like he owns the place, crossing his arms as if settling in for a casual wait.

You roll your eyes, muttering under your breath. “Unbelievable.”

Ignoring him, you turn and head into your bedroom, where you start throwing clothes into a duffel bag—jeans, a couple of shirts, whatever you can grab quickly. Your movements are hurried, fuelled by a mix of frustration and the creeping anxiety gnawing at the edges of your mind. Grabbing your toiletries, you stuff them into a smaller bag, trying to focus on the task at hand instead of the fact that some random mutant tracked you down, and now you have to leave your life until you’re safe. 

You peer back into the hallway, hearing the faint creak of the couch as Logan shifts around. I’m gonna kill this guy, you think to yourself. 

Once everything is packed and you’ve zipped your bag, you head back into the main room, only to see said random mutant still sprawled on your couch, looking far too comfortable, with a cigar in his hand.

“Seriously?” you say, slinging your duffel over your shoulder. “Make yourself at home, why don’t you.”

He grunts in response but doesn’t move. Typical.

You glance at the clock—still a few minutes left of the half-hour he allotted you, but there’s no point in dragging it out. “I’m ready,” you say flatly, heading toward the door.

Logan stands, stretches his arms over his head, and cracks his neck like he’s waking up from a nap. “Let’s go then.”

—

The ride is tense and quiet, which suits you just fine. You’d rather not talk to him anyway. Every now and then, you let out a loud sigh, unable to hold back the annoyance you’re feeling. Each time, you feel Logan’s eyes dart toward you from the driver’s seat, but he doesn’t say anything. Well, that is, until—

“Can you shut the fuck up?” he growls, keeping his eyes on the road.

You clench your jaw, shifting in your seat. “I didn’t even say anything, jackass.”

He huffs, clearly not in the mood for an argument, but the strain between you is almost impossible to ignore. You cross your arms, staring out the window, observing the landscape shift as the drive continues. 

Eventually, you can see the outline of the mansion, and you watch as it gets bigger and bigger the closer you get. Upon arrival, He pulls the car up to the front and cuts the engine. You both sit there for a moment, mute. 

“Well, here we are,” he mumbles after the pause stretches on for an uncomfortable amount of time, glancing over at you.

“Great,” you say sarcastically, unbuckling your seatbelt and pushing open the car door. 

Logan walks ahead without saying a word, leading the way up the grand stone steps toward the front door. You trail behind, your mood darkening with every step, glaring at the perfectly polished entrance. 

The doors open before you even reach them, and you’re greeted by an older man in a wheelchair—Charles Xavier, if you remember correctly. The famous telepath. The genius behind the mutant team (some news anchor's words, not yours). His expression is kind, but you’re in such a bad mood, you don’t even bother trying to seem polite.

“Welcome,” He says with a warm smile, his eyes assessing you with an intensity that makes your skin crawl. “Logan’s told me a lot about you.”

You press your lips together in a line. “Yeah? Well, don’t get too excited.”

Logan grunts beside you. “She’s got a bit of an attitude,” he mutters to Charles, then turns to you, gesturing you to follow him. “Come on.”

Inwardly groaning, you have no choice but to follow him. Everything about this place screams “too good to be true,” and you hate it already. You’re used to keeping your head down, blending in, not being surrounded by people who wear their powers on their sleeves like some badge of honour.

As you walk through the halls, a few faces appear—other mutants, some of them kids, watching curiously as you pass by. You can feel their eyes on you, can hear the whispers already starting about the new arrival. 

Charles wheels alongside you, still smiling, but there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes. “You remind me of Logan when he first joined us,” he says thoughtfully.

That stops you in your tracks.

You whip your head toward the man, giving him a piercing look. “Do not say that. We are nothing alike.”

On your other side, Logan smirks. “Not sure if I should be offended or not.”

“I’m serious.” If looks could kill, he’d be six feet under.

Chucking softly, Charles seems completely unaffected by your outburst. “You’re both a bit rough around the edges, but you’ll find your place here.”

“Yeah, sure,” you say. “Because that’s exactly what I want to do.”

Deeper into the mansion, you catch sight of the X-Men you’ve seen before: Cyclops, Storm, Jean Grey. They all turn to look at you, sizing you up. You don’t flinch—you just stare back, your expression hard.

Pulling your duffel bag higher on your shoulder, you rip your eyes away from theirs, and keep walking, following Logan down the long, quiet hallway. Finally, he stops in front of a door.

“This is your room,” he grunts, nodding toward it. “Try not to break anything.”

Choosing silence, you push the door open. Stepping inside, you expect the bare minimum—a bed, maybe a closet—but instead, you’re met with a surprisingly large space. There’s a massive bed in the center of the room, a desk by the window, and, to your surprise, a set of glass doors leading out to a balcony.

You drop your bag by the door, glancing around, trying to shake off the unease. This is way too nice for a prisoner. You walk toward the balcony doors, curious despite yourself, and when you pull them open, the cool breeze hits you immediately.

Once you’re outside, you realize something that immediately makes your stomach drop.

The balcony is shared. And right next to your side, leaning against the railing with a cigar between his fingers, is Logan.

You halt mid-motion, eyes fixed on him in stunned silence. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He glances over, a smirk playing on his lips as he takes a drag of his cigar. “Surprise.”

You groan, turning your back on him and walking toward the opposite edge of the balcony, trying to calm the annoyance inside you. Of all the people you could’ve been stuck beside, it had to be him. It’s not enough that he dragged you here, but now there’s a chance you’re going to have to see him every time you step outside.

“So what now?” you mutter, staring out over the mansion grounds, the manicured gardens below looking like something out of a postcard. “I’m just supposed to stay here, be a part of your little mutant club?”

Taking another slow pull on his cigar, “You’re supposed to stay alive. Everythin’ else? That’s up to you.”

“But why do you suddenly care?” you ask. “I’ve seen the way you operate. You and your team sweep in, fight your battles, and then leave everyone else in the dirt. You don’t care about the collateral damage—hell, you cause half of it.” 

Logan pauses, his cigar halfway to his lips. He doesn’t answer right away, and the brief hesitation only makes your irritation spike. You press on, inching closer, voice laced with accusation.

“Why now?” you press. “Why drag me into this when you’ve never cared about anyone else in the crossfire?”

Logan finally turns to face you, exhaling a cloud of smoke before speaking, his expression hardened. “This ain’t about me ‘caring,’” he says flatly. “This is about survival. You killed a Sentinel, whether you like it or not. That puts a target on your back.”

“Yeah, you’ve made that very clear,” you bite out. “But you still haven’t answered my question. Why me? Why am I suddenly important to you?”

Logan’s eyes darken, drilling into yours. “You’re not important to me,” he says flatly. “But they won’t stop until they get you. The destruction that’ll come from that—if your stubborn ass fought back, which I know it would, by the way—would be much greater than anything we would cause.”

“Doubt that,” you snarl bitterly. You don’t linger for the sound of his response, spinning on your heel and walking back into your room, slamming the balcony door behind you.

The bed is large and you can’t deny how inviting it looks after the day you’ve had. You flop onto it face-first, letting out a long, drawn out sigh.

You’re barely able to reflect on the chaotic day you’ve had before your eyelids flutter shut, and you sink into a deep slumber, the exhaustion from everything catching up to you.

—

You’re jolted awake by a loud, aggressive knock on your bedroom door. The sound is so forceful it feels like the entire frame is rattling. You release a sound, half groan, half sigh, steeped in frustration. Your face is still buried in your pillow, and you curse whoever decided to ruin what little sleep you managed to get.

“Get up,” Logan’s gruff voice calls from the other side of the door. “We’re leaving for breakfast in ten.”

Ah yes. Of-fucking-course it's him. Who else would it be?

Dragging yourself out of bed, you throw on some clothes and make a half-hearted attempt to fix your hair before opening the door, ready to curse him, but he's already striding down the hallway, hardly bothering to check if you're following. You roll your eyes, your steps slow and begrudging as you move to follow

As you catch up, you can’t help but throw him a sideways glare. “Why are you acting like my personal bodyguard?”

“Gotta make sure you don’t do anything reckless.”

You scoff, crossing your arms as you fall into step beside him. “You don’t even know what I can do.”

Logan’s lips twitch into a lazy smirk, and you immediately want to wipe it off his face. “Exactly,” he says, his tone almost amused. “Which is why today, we’re gonna test you.”

You stop in your tracks, staring at his back. “Test me? What the hell does that mean?”

He stops too, turning to face you. “Means you’re gonna show me what you’re capable of.”

Teeth clenched, you feel the slow rise of aggravation mingling with apprehension. “I’m not some science experiment.”

“No,” he agrees, “but you’re not a regular person, either. You need to know your limits—and how to handle what’s coming.”

Groaning, you drag your hands down your face incredulously. “I don’t even know what to say back to that. All I know is that I’m hungry.”

—

The kitchen of Xavier’s mansion is bustling with activity as the two of you walk in. The rest of the team is gathered around a large table at the centre of the room, and you spot Jean, Cyclops, Storm, and a few others sitting together, chatting, but you feel no desire to join them. 

Rather, you gravitate toward a smaller table by the window, hoping to get some peace while you choke down breakfast. The chair scrapes lightly as you pull it out and sit down, fully expecting to be left alone.

But to your surprise, Logan follows and plops down in the seat across from you.

You raise an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

He shrugs and digs into his food. "Eating. You got a problem with that?"

You cast a quick look toward the large table where the rest of the team sits. It feels strange, having him eat with you, especially when the rest of his team is so obviously waiting for him to join them.

"No," you murmur, shaking your head as you return to your plate. "Just didn’t think you’d stray from the flock."

“They’re fine without me.”

You push your food around with your fork, trying to push past the heavy air of discomfort in the room. Everyone keeps glancing in your direction, and you sense their curiosity, the questions hovering in silence, but no one has the courage to ask. And honestly, you’re grateful for the space.

Just as you’re finishing up, a low voice catches your attention. 

"I just don’t understand why they brought her here," Jean’s voice carries across the room, quieter than before, but still clear enough for you to hear. “She doesn’t seem like she has what it takes. It’s like they’re bringing in someone who’s—” She pauses, clearly thinking through her words. "Unstable. Weak.”

Tensing, your fork clatters onto your plate. The world around you dulls, and all you can hear is that word echoing in your head. Weak. You’ve been called a lot of things in your life, but never that.

Slowly, you push your chair back and stand up as you turn to face the table where she and the others are seated. “Say it louder, please,” you say calmly.

The chatter dies instantly, and suddenly, every set of eyes in the room finds you. Jean's face turns ashen, her eyes blown wide in shock. She wasn’t expecting you to overhear. Her mouth opens and closes, as if she’s trying to find a way to backtrack, but you know what you heard.

Before Jean can stammer out an excuse, Scott stands up, positioning himself between you and her, his jaw tight and his posture rigid. “You heard wrong,” he says sternly. “She didn’t mean anything by it.”

You take a calculated step forward, arms crossed in defiance. “Didn’t mean anything?” you repeat sarcastically. “She just called me weak. Right here. In front of everyone. You think I’m gonna let that slide?”

Scott’s jaw clenches tighter “She wasn’t trying to insult you. You’re new here. You don’t know how things work yet.”

“That’s the excuse?” you laugh dryly. “Maybe you should teach her how to keep her mouth shut instead of making assumptions about people she doesn’t know.”

If even possible, the friction between you swells, growing heavier with each passing second. Everyone in the room watches the standoff, some shifting uncomfortably in their seats, unsure of what’s going to happen next. You can feel Logan’s presence behind you, but he doesn’t interfere. He’s letting you handle this.

“You don’t belong here,” Scott states, like he’s trying to remind you of your place. “You’re not part of this team, and you sure as hell don’t understand what it takes to survive here.”

Raising an eyebrow, your lips curl into a smirk. “And what are you gonna do about it, One-eye? You gonna lecture me? Or better yet, why don’t you blast me with those laser eyes of yours? Show me how strong you are.”

His fists clench, and for a moment, you see the control slip. His visor glows red, just for a split second, as his anger spikes.

"Careful," you taunt, challenging him. "Wouldn’t want to lose control, would you? I'm sure you've never done that before."

That does it. 

A beam shoots out from Scott’s visor. Fast, ferocious, and headed straight for you. There’s a collective gasp from the others, chairs scraping as people push back, shocked by the sudden escalation. But you don’t move. You stand your ground, your eyes locked onto Scott’s as the beam strikes you square in the chest.

You’re not knocked back, or worse, killed, as the energy from the blast surges into you. The energy seeps into your bones, crackling through every nerve. Your skin tingles as the power courses through you, your body absorbing every ounce of it. Once the assault is over, you raise your head, feeling your eyes and veins begin to glow with a deep, burning red.

Jean’s hand flies to her mouth, her eyes wide in disbelief. 

Unfortunately for you, you don't get the chance to blow him to pieces, because Logan flies forward and grabs your arm, pulling you out of the room. Nobody else moves—too stunned—as he drags you into the hallway. You blink your eyes, the glow fading, but you can feel the residual energy from Scott’s blast still buzzing under your skin.

Both out of sight, he finally releases you. 

You glare at him, still rattled from the confrontation. “What the hell? Why'd you interfere?”

He just shrugs, completely unfazed. “You handled yourself enough. Now we know what you can do. Follow me.”

“Follow you where?” you ask. 

He motions down the hallway. “Danger Room. We’re gonna push those limits a little further.”

Gawking at him for a second, it takes a moment, but then you smirk. You want to know just how far your powers can go.

—

“Fuck!” you curse as you’re flung backward, your body slamming against a stone wall. Your back hits hard, knocking the wind out of you as the simulated-Sentinel hurls a car in your direction. The screech of metal fills the air as the vehicle crashes just mere inches from where you were standing moments ago. 

Rubble showers from above, the robot in front of you towering menacingly. Raising its arm, another blast begins charging in its palm, ready to incinerate you.

You scramble to your feet, heart pounding in your chest as you sprint away, ducking and weaving between the wreckage of cars and crumbling buildings that make up the simulated cityscape. The Sentinel fires again, the blast narrowly missing as you dodge behind an overturned truck. Your breaths come in ragged gasps, every muscle screaming in protest.

I can’t keep this up.

Another blast lights up the area around you, and you dive out of the way, the heat of the attack singeing your skin. You’re quick, but not quick enough to outrun the onslaught from this machine.

Then it hits you—you don’t have to outrun it.

You remember the blast from way back, how your body absorbed the energy, and how in the dining hall, you took on Scott’s beam like it was nothing. You can do it again. You can take its power and turn it back on itself.

Gritting your teeth, you stop running. The air buzzes with electricity, the earth trembling beneath you as the next shot hurtles your way.

It hammers into your chest, and once again, your body is filled with energy. In an instant, you leap into the air, propelled by the newfound strength coursing through your body, and the ground disappears beneath you as you soar upward.

At the peak of your jump, you clench your fist, channeling all that power into one focused point. Then, you bring your fist down on the Sentinel’s head, the impact echoing through the simulation as your punch connects, and the robot’s head shatters under the blow, metal fragments flying in every direction as its massive body crumples to the ground.

Sparks shoot out of its severed neck, and with a final groan of machinery, the robot collapses into a heap of broken parts at your feet.

“Good work,” Logan’s voice crackles over the comms, far too calm for what you’ve just been through. “Let’s see how you handle another.”

There’s no time for more than a muttered curse under your breath, because another Sentinel is dropped into the simulation. This one’s faster, more agile, and doesn’t waste time by charging up blasts.

It exists solely to hunt you down. 

“Cut me some slack,” you groan, half out of breath as you duck behind the ruins of a building. Your lungs burn as you try to breathe, adrenaline coursing through you like a wildfire.

This one isn’t like the last. It’s not using energy blasts—it’s fast, agile, and persistent. It rushes toward you, its massive hands swiping through the air, tearing through the simulated city with ease.

Grinding your teeth, a wave of exasperation takes over. This fight is harder, the machine barely giving you a chance to react, and your body is already starting to wear down. Your mind races, desperate for a solution as you sidestep its attacks, trying to stay one step ahead. You feel cornered, trapped.

The frustration builds, growing into something more, and before you realize it, that frustration becomes fuel. It ignites inside you, your own emotions transforming into energy, pushing past the limits you didn’t know you had.

Your veins pulse, your eyes glowing white this time, not from absorbed power but from something deeper—your own anger, your own strength. The energy bubbles inside you, filling every cell of your body until you can’t hold it back anymore.

With a scream, you release it, propelling a massive ball of crackling energy hurling toward the Sentinel. The impact is immediate, ripping through the metal and bursting into a brilliant, blinding light. It sends shockwave through the entire simulation, the machine imploding, its parts scattering across the battlefield.

And when the light fades, the Sentinel is gone—nothing more than a smouldering heap of twisted metal.

You stand there, chest heaving, the glow in your eyes slowly fading as the last traces of energy drain from your body. Your knees buckle, and before you know it, you crumble to the ground, utterly exhausted.

The simulation flickers for a moment, then abruptly shuts off, the room returning to its normal, metallic walls as the fake cityscape disappears. You’re still on the floor, gasping for breath, when Logan steps into view, arms crossed as he peers down at you with a pleased grin.

“Well,” he says, voice calm, “that wasn’t too bad.”

You shoot him a glare from the ground, too tired to move. “You… are such… an asshole.”

He chuckles, clearly enjoying himself. “Get up. We’re just getting started.”

—

He was right. You were just getting started.

The thought gnaws at you as you trudge alongside Logan, heading back to your room to clean up before dinner. Every muscle in your body aches, and you can already feel the soreness creeping in, promising a week of pain. You’re starting to suspect this is Logan’s way of getting back at you for all the snark and attitude you’ve thrown his way, but damn, is it painful. You don’t even want to think about how much worse you’re going to feel in the morning.

You feel like a zombie, dragging your feet, barely able to keep your eyes open. Your limbs feel heavy, like they’re made of lead, and each step invites fresh wave of exhaustion through your body. The man with you, of course, seems perfectly fine. He walks a few steps ahead of you, not even winded from the grueling day of combat drills, sparring, and whatever else he thought up to make sure you were put through the wringer.

“Maybe I should be a little nicer to you,” you rationalize, but who are you kidding.

With a terse grunt, he acknowledges you by tilting his head back. “You’ll live.”

You roll your eyes, though it’s half-hearted at best. You don’t even have the energy to be annoyed right now.

Upon reaching your room, you feel like you could collapse right then and there. You mumble something vaguely resembling ‘see you later’ to Logan before slipping inside, the door clicking shut behind you.

The first thing you do is toss your bag onto the floor, not caring where it lands, and head straight for the bathroom. You peel off your sweaty, dirt-covered clothes and step into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the grime of the day. 

After that quick, blissful shower, you drag yourself out, towel off, and pull on the first comfortable clothes you can find. Your bed is calling to you, and it doesn’t take long for you to lie down on it. The softness of the mattress beneath you is heaven, and you think you might just fall asleep right there and take a small nap before heading to eat.

But then, out of the corner of your eye, you notice the light pouring in through the balcony doors. The warm, golden glow of the setting sun catches your attention, and despite how drained you are, you find yourself turning to look. 

What you see is breathtaking. Shades of pink, orange, and deep purple.

It’s too beautiful to ignore.

Groaning again, you force yourself to sit up, rubbing your eyes. You can’t help it. Something about the sight draws you in, and before you know it, you’re standing and heading toward the balcony. You slide the door open and step outside, the evening breeze washing over you as you lean against the railing, taking in the view.

A few minutes pass, the world around you quiet except for the gentle rustling of the leaves in the wind. The sound of Logan’s door sliding breaks your focus. You glance over just as he steps out onto his side of the shared balcony, wearing nothing but a white tank top and jeans.

Saying nothing, he steps beside you at the railing, resting against it as his eyes scan the horizon. 

You sneak a look at him out of the corner of your eye, trying not to make it obvious. His arms are crossed over the railing, and it’s almst impossible not to notice the way the tank top lets you see his biceps, the muscles in his arms strong from the day’s activity. You are a woman, after all.

He looks relaxed. His stubble catches the last bits of the sunlight, and as your gaze travels upward, you notice something you hadn’t bothered to see before. 

The crinkles at the sides of his eyes. They’re faint, barely there, but in this light, they’re more visible, adding something unexpectedly... soft to his otherwise intimidating appearance.

Cute, you think absentmindedly, then pause. 

What the fuck?

You snap your gaze back to the sunset, feeling a sudden surge of embarrassment creeping up your neck. You just spent the entire day getting your ass handed to you by this man, and now you’re here checking out his arms? His arms? And thinking the crinkles around his eyes are cute? Suppressing a groan, you want to slap yourself for even entertaining the thought.

Nope. Absolutely not. You’re not going down that road.

Taking a deep breath, you try to bring your attention back to the sunset. The reason you went outside to begin with. You have no idea why you’re suddenly noticing these things about him—probably exhaustion making your brain short-circuit. 

Yup. That’s it.

He shifts slightly beside you, breaking the silence. “Nice view"

You nod, swallowing down the weird feelings swirling in your head. “Yeah,” you mumble, not trusting yourself to say anything more without sounding ridiculous.

The two of you stand there for a few more minutes, watching as the last rays of the sun disappear, the sky dimming into deep purples and blues. But the minute your thoughts start to drift back to him, you straighten up, clapping your hands together and quickly turning on your heel to head back inside.

“Well, I’m done,” you say abruptly. “I’m gonna crash.”

Logan doesn’t move, but you can feel his eyes following you as you slide the door closed behind you, your mind still reeling from whatever the hell that was.

Collapsing back onto your bed, you pull the covers up to your chin, determined to forget about the whole thing.

—

A few hours later, when it’s dark out, you finally wake up. The room is dim, and for a moment, you just lie there, blinking at the ceiling. As you start to roll over, something catches your attention—a smell.

It's warm, savoury. Your stomach growls almost immediately, making you realize with a start that you slept through dinner.

Groggily, you sit up, rubbing your eyes, and that’s when you spot it—a tray of food sitting on the desk in your room. You can make out the outline of a warm meal: some kind of stew, a couple of bread rolls, and what looks like a glass of water. Your stomach growls again, louder this time, as you climb out of bed and shuffle toward the desk, turning on the light. 

Next to the tray, there’s a small note:

Figured you’d be too tired to get dinner. Eat up.

– L

You stare at the note. Logan? Bringing you food? It doesn’t exactly fit with the version of him you’ve been dealing with all day, but then again, there seems to be a lot about him that doesn’t quite fit the mold you expected.

Too hungry to keep thinking and not eat, you set the note down and grab the spoon, dipping it into the stew. The first bite warms you from the inside out, and you let out an involuntary sigh of relief.

Surprisingly flavourful—rich and nourishing, it’s the perfect remedy for the exhausting day behind you

Still, you can’t help your eyes from wandering back to the note. Maybe it really is the fatigue messing with your head again, making you chalk it up to be something it’s not. 

—

The next morning, you're not woken up by banging on your door, which is a relief. You stretch, the soreness still lingering but not nearly as bad as you expected. After freshening up and pulling on some clothes, you step into the hallway, and unexpectedly, Logan is already waiting for you.

He’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and you blink at him, still waking up, unsure why he’s there. “Uh... morning?” you get out, albeit you can’t hide the confusion in your tone.

A short nod in greeting. “Morning. Ready for breakfast?”

You hesitate for a moment, then decide to take the plunge. “Yeah I am, but…um, thanks for the food last night, it was good.” you say quietly, almost embarrassed to admit it.

The gesture had caught you off guard, and though you don’t want to make a fuss, it’s worth noting

“Don’t mention it,” he shrugs casually.

Nodding in understanding, you’re ready to move on when he adds, almost offhandedly, “Y’know, you’re actually kinda pretty when you’re asleep. Not being a little shit helps.”

You freeze mid-step, your mind short-circuiting for a moment as you process the words that just left his lips.

Flustered and irritated all at once, you glare at him. “Excuse me?”

Logan smirks, the corners of his mouth twitching as he starts walking down the hall toward the kitchen. “You heard me.”

Your face heats up. “I am not a little shit,” you yelp, quickening your pace to catch up to him.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he says, gazing at you from over his shoulder. You open your mouth to fire back, but the smug look in his eyes makes you hesitate. 

He’s messing with you on purpose.

Asshole, you think, fuming but trying to ignore the way your stomach flipped when he called you pretty. 

—

The kitchen goes silent the moment you and Logan step through the door, a noticeable difference from yesterday. All eyes are locked on you, the pressure in the room almost solid, begging to be cut through.

Students and X-Men alike are watching, probably expecting some kind of replay of the day prior's events, but you pay them no mind, keeping your eyes straight ahead and making a beeline for a table at the back.

You drop into a seat, picking up a piece of toast and acting like the room isn’t on high alert. Logan joins you again without a word, sitting across from you and digging into his food. He doesn’t even glance at the others, as if the room full of curious onlookers doesn’t exist.

The only sounds are the clink of silverware and voices slowly picking up again as people realize nothing dramatic is about to happen.

Chewing, you glance at the man across from you, still quietly working through his meal. You swallow, then clear your throat. “So... what’s the plan for today?”

He looks up from his plate. “Charles wants to see you this morning.”

You frown, unsure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. “Why? Did I break something without knowing it?”

He snorts, shaking his head. “No, you’re not in trouble, smartass. He’s just gonna fill you in on some things. Mainly the Sentinels.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You need to know what you’re up against, what we’re all dealing with. He’ll catch you up to speed.”

“Great,” you mutter. “More bad news.”

The clawed mutant leans back in his chair, watching you for a moment before speaking again. “Look, it’s not gonna be fun, but you need to know. Better to hear it from him than from me.”

“I’ll take that as your way of saying ‘good luck,” you breathe out. 

He smirks. “You’re gonna need it.”

Logan finishes his meal and stands up, leaving his empty plate behind. “I’ll drop you off at Charles’s office. You’ll be with him for the morning.”

You follow suit, pushing away your half-eaten plate. “Fantastic,” you mumble sarcastically, but at the same time, you know this is necessary. After all, the threat you’re dealing with is real, and being ignorant about it won’t do you any good.

—

“So, how can they be stopped?”

You ask the question before you even sit down. Charles is already waiting for you in his office, his hands folded neatly on the desk, his gaze calm and soft. 

He takes a measured breath, glancing toward the window for a moment before responding. “Stopping the Sentinels is... complicated. They’ve grown more advanced than we ever anticipated.”

“I gathered that.”

“They are highly adaptive machines,” he continues. “Designed to hunt and neutralize mutants, they learn from every encounter. They absorb information, adjust tactics, and over time, they become more effective.”

His words make you squirm with discomfort, and you glance around the room, trying to distract yourself from the knot forming in your stomach. 

“And now I’m one of their targets,” you say quietly, more to yourself than to him.

Leaning forward slightly, he says, “Yes. They’ve already locked onto you because of your encounter with them. They don’t differentiate between self-defence and aggression. They see you as a target, simply because you fought back.”

You exhale sharply. “So, what’s your plan?”

Charles meets your gaze. “There is a command center—a hub that controls their network. If we can locate it and destroy it, we believe it will disrupt the entire Sentinel operation. Without the command structure, the Sentinels will become non-functional.”

You stare for a beat, mentally piecing together the details. “You believe?”

“It’s our best theory,” he says evenly. “We’ve been gathering intel for some time now. And we’re planning a mission. A final push to put an end to this threat once and for all.”

The words linger, thick and weighty, in the space between you, You can sense where this is going. Your fingers drum against your arm, a nervous habit you can’t seem to shake.

“You want me to be a part of it.”

He remains unfazed. “I believe you have an ability that could be crucial to the mission. You’ve already demonstrated your capability against the Sentinels in training yesterday, and in real life.”

A bitter scoff escapes your lips before you can stifle it. “Yeah, but I’m not one of you. I don’t want to be part of some... grand battle. That’s not me.”

Watching you closely, his gaze is soft with comprehension. “I understand your reluctance,” he says gently. “But running, hiding... it won’t change the fact that they will find you. Fighting may not have been your choice, but now it is your reality.”

Standing, you begin to pace the room. “This is exactly the problem I have with your team,” you say, stopping near the window, staring out at the garden. “We hardly know eachother, yet you want me to be part of some mission that could very well be catastophic. It’s like you don’t care about anything except the big picture.”

Charles’s expression doesn’t change. He definitely expected this. “We aren’t perfect,” he admits, “and our battles have left scars. But this is about survival. For all of us. For you.”

Turning back to face him, you narrow your eyes. “And if I say no?”

“I won’t force you,” His voice is understanding. “The choice is yours. But know that the Sentinels will not stop. You can avoid the fight for as long as you like, but eventually, it will come to you.”

It’s as if you're stuck, with nowhere to turn, cornered by a reality you didn’t want any part of. Avoiding it doesn’t seem like an option anymore, but fighting alongside the X-Men feels like betraying everything you’ve tried to distance yourself from. 

Sighing, “I’ll think about it.”

—

When you get back to your room, the first thing you do is swing open your balcony door and step outside. The afternoon sun comes over you like a blanket, warming you up, and relieving some of the strain in your muscles. Logan is out on the balcony too, leaning against the railing, a cigar lit between his fingers. It’s a sight you think you should get used to. 

His eyes flick to you when you approach, but he doesn’t say anything at first. Without a word, he holds the roll of tobacco out toward you, as if he knows exactly what’s on your mind.

You pause briefly, for just a second before taking it from him. The rich, earthy taste of the cigar fills your mouth as you inhale deeply, the smoke heavy and warm in your lungs. There’s something grounding about it, even though the burn is rough against your throat. You let out a slow exhale, watching the smoke curl into the night air as you lean next to him against the railing.

“How’d it go?” he asks gruffly.

“He wants me to join you guys on the mission.”

At first, Logan doesn’t react, then, he just takes the cigar back, puffing on it and blowing a cloud of smoke into the air. “What do you want to do?”

It’s the same question that’s been clawing at your insides since you left Charles’s office. What do you want? It feels like the answer should be simple, but it’s anything but.

“I don’t know,” you confess quietly. “I want to get rid of the threat and go back to my normal life, but if I do, then I'd just become the very thing I'm against, right? I can’t join you guys, that’s not who I am.”

He hums softly.

Shifting a bit, you try to find the words to explain the knot of irritation tangled inside you. “I get it, you know? I get why you guys do what you do. Someone has to. But the way you do it—so carefree about everything. It’s like the destruction, the people, the lives caught in the midst of everything—it doesn’t even phase you.”

“We don’t do it carefree,” he says lowly. Inhaling into the cigar once more, the tip glowing red. “But sometimes, you gotta make a choice between bad and worse. People get hurt. But if we don’t stop the threats, a lot more people are gonna die.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, feeling the tension coil tighter in your chest. “And that’s what I hate about it.”

Flicking the ash from the end of his cigar, his eyes are distant, lost in thought momentarily before he responds. “I’m not gonna lie to you and say it’s easy. It ain’t. We all carry the weight of the things we’ve done—the things we couldn’t stop. But if not us, then who?”

“That’s an impossible decision,” you say. There’s no way you can go into this fight, knowing how much of a toll it’s going to take on everything. The fight itself is such a small piece to the puzzle.

Logan leans his elbows on the railing. “You think I wanted this?” he asks, his voice low, almost like he’s talking to himself. “I was just like you. Didn’t want nothin’ to do with the team or their battles.”

The comparison makes you grimace. “Great. That’s exactly what I want to hear.”

He chuckles, the sound rough but not unkind. “I’m serious, bub. For years, I didn’t want to be part of this... circus. Figured I’d be better off on my own, that I was above it all.”

You quirk a brow. “Then what changed?”

“It’s not like a switch flipped,” he replies, a bit quieter. “I just realized that fighting alone is harder than fighting with a team. The X-Men... they gave me somethin’. A place. Belonging. Doesn’t mean I agree with everything they do, but it’s better than wanderin’.”

That makes you scoff. “Yeah, well, you heard it yourself. Scott said I don’t belong here. Jean thinks I’m weak. Doesn’t exactly scream ‘welcome to the team,’ does it?”

His brow furrows, his eyes narrowing, as he straightens and looks at you. “Scott talks too much, and Jean—she’s cautious. Doesn’t mean she’s right.”

“Doesn’t mean she’s wrong either,” you mumble. “They don’t trust me.”

“They didn’t trust me when I first joined either, but you get better. You learn.”

“I don’t want to be like you,” you hiss before you can stop yourself, and you immediately regret the heat in your words.

He doesn’t look offended—just tired. “Didn’t say you should,” he starts. “But you can’t keep shunnin’ us.”

“So what do I do now?”

Taking one last drag of his cigar before flicking it over the balcony railing, Logan watches the embers fall before he speaks. “The mission’s in a week. You’ve got that long to figure it out.”

He turns to leave, but before he goes, he glimpses at you from over his shoulder. “This battle, it’s inevitable. Question is—how do you want to face it?”

—

You’ve never been so conflicted. This choice–to join, or not to join—is probably the hardest decision you’ve had to make in your entire life. You have seen first hand what happens when the X-men decide to stop a threat. What innocent people have to go through to rebuild their lives from the ground up. Both literally and figuratively.

And to then become someone who causes that pain? It feels like betrayal. Like going against yourself—your morals.

But then there’s the other side of it—the part of you that knows sitting here, doing nothing, isn’t right either. You know you have the strength to fight back. You have the power to help. And doing nothing… doesn’t that make you just as bad? If you have the ability to stop something, to protect people, and you don’t—what does that make you?

It’s a lose-lose situation. The X-Men don’t even want you there—aside from Logan and Charles. You can see it in the way their eyes follow you wherever you go, untrusting. They’ve made their opinion on you clear.

You lower your head into your hands, stressed. You can’t join a team that doesn’t want you, but sitting on the sidelines when you could be fighting—that makes you feel like a coward. And maybe even worse—a bad person.

Finally, with a deep breath, you come to a decision. It’s not perfect, and it sure as hell doesn’t feel good, but it’s the only choice you can make right now. You’ll join them—for this mission only.

You’ll help take down the Sentinels, and then, when it’s done, you’ll leave. You’ll go back to your life, maybe you can find a middle ground, where you’re not one of them, but you’re no longer hiding from the mutant part of yourself. 

If something happens, if you do something you regret, then you'll just have to live with it.

—

In the afternoon, you don’t do much. You were supposed to be training with Logan, but Charles had called him into a quick meeting, leaving you to wander the halls aimlessly.

Rounding a corner, you stop short when you see the rest of the team—Scott, Jean, Ororo, and Hank—talking near a meeting room. They’re deep in conversation, but as soon as you come into view, their attention shifts toward you.

Your stomach tightens, and for a brief second, you consider just turning around and walking in the other direction. But it’s too late; they’ve already seen you. 

Jean’s eyes meet yours, and her expression flickers with something that looks like discomfort before she quickly smooths it over. “Hey,” she says carefully. “I just wanted to apologize for what I said yesterday. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you didn’t belong.”

Her tone is polite, but distant. It’s clear this apology isn’t driven by genuine remorse—it’s more about smoothing over the awkwardness from yesterday’s standoff. You can feel that. You see the way she looks at you, not quite meeting your eyes, and you know this is just a formality for her.

Still, you’re not looking to start more drama, and you don’t want to engage in any more confrontations, especially when you’re already planning to leave. You nod, keeping your expression neutral. “It’s fine. Let’s just move on.”

Behind her, you catch a glimpse of Scott, his arms crossed. Even though you can’t see his eyes, it’s obvious he’s glaring at you.

Ororo steps forward, her hand finding your arm, and the touch is gentle, reassuring. “Joining the team isn’t easy,” she says kindly. “But we’ve all faced our own challenges. If you ever need someone to talk to, or help with anything, I’m here.”

“You’ve got potential,” Hank chips in from beside her. “It takes time to settle in, but I’m sure you’ll find your place.”

His words are well-meaning, and you can see that he believes what he’s saying. But what they don’t know is that you’ve already made up your mind. You’re not staying any longer than you have to. 

You don’t plan on finding your place here because, frankly, you don’t believe there is one for you. Not with Scott’s distrust, Jean’s cautious distance, and the way you know you can’t be part of a team that doesn’t care about anything but themselves. You keep your thoughts to yourself, pressing your lips into a thin smile instead. 

“Yeah,” you say vaguely, not wanting to ruin the moment. “Thanks.”

“I guess we’ll all see soon enough,” Your eyes snap to Scott, who has finally decided to break his silence. His voice is cold, but you can feel and edge to it, one that’s trying to provoke you. 

You meet his gaze—or at least the visor—and feel your jaw tighten. “Guess so,” you reply, matching his tone. Turning, you walk away, finding another place to lounge until Logan is free. 

—

The mansion’s library is massive, filled with towering shelves and the scent of old books. It’s quieter here, the kind of silence you can sink into, and after the awkward run-in with the rest of the team, it feels like the perfect place to retreat. You find a comfortable armchair tucked into a corner, grab a random book off the shelf—some old novel you’ve never heard of—and settle in.

For a while, you manage to lose yourself in the pages. The story isn’t particularly gripping, but it’s enough to take your mind off of things. But then, a shadow falls over you, covering the words in a dark grey haze.

“Hey, bub.”

You blink, looking up to find Logan standing over you. “What?” you ask, annoyed at being interrupted but also not surprised. It’s Logan, after all.

“You’ve been hiding in here long enough,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “Come on, time to head back.”

Rolling your eyes you snap the book shut, dropping it onto the table beside you. “I wasn’t hiding, I was reading,” you shoot back, standing up and stretching out your legs. “There’s a difference, y’know.”

“Sure there is,” he huffs, clearly not buying it. “Let’s go.”

As you reach the hallway where your rooms are, Logan pauses, glancing toward his door. “You wanna come in for a bit? Talk?”

You’re a little bit taken aback. You didn’t peg him as the "sit down and talk" type, but he seems genuine. Or maybe he wants to keep you awake for dinner this time. Either way, you nod. “Sure.”

Inside his room, it’s about what you’d expect—minimalist, practical, with a few personal touches. A bed that looks like it’s seen better days, a couple of old books, and the scent of cigars lingering in the air. Logan sits down on the bed, leaning back against the headboard, and gestures for you to join him.

There’s a moment where you’re just standing there, staring, but then you flop down beside him, sitting cross-legged at the edge of the bed. For a few beats, there’s silence. Logan pulls out a cigar but doesn’t light it, just turns it between his fingers.

“I’ve decided,” you say finally, breaking the quiet. “I’ll go on the mission.”

He doesn’t respond, his eyes flicking to yours, waiting for you to continue.

“But,” you add, crossing your arms over your chest, “I’m not promising to stay after. This doesn’t mean I’m all in on your little X-Men gig.”

He grunts, a half-smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “Knew you’d say that.”

Your brows pinch together your, lips pulling into a frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means you’re stubborn as hell,” he teases.“Always gotta fight against the grain, even when you know what’s best for you.”

Sighing, you turn your head to look at him fully. “I truly believe you are the only person who actually believes that.”

He chuckles softly but doesn’t argue. “Charles gave me more details about the mission.”

That catches your attention, and you sit up a little straighter. “Yeah? Where are we going?”

Logan hesitates for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. “It’s... in the city.”

“The city? What city?”

“New York.”

Your heart drops. “New York?” You repeat, your voice rising in disbelief.

Giving you a slow nod, it’s like he's gauging your reaction. “The Sentinels’ command centre is located in some high-security facility downtown.”

You push yourself up off the bed, pacing across the room. “So, what, we are just going to storm in? Into one of the most populated cities in the world? Do you realize how many people could get caught in the middle of that?”

He stands up after you, but he doesn’t try to stop your pacing. “We’ve fought in cities before. We know what we’re doing.”

You whip around to face him. “Yeah, you’ve fought in cities before, and destroyed them! Some places are still rebuilding, and it’s been years!”

“I get it, alright?” He says, taking a step closer to you. “It’s not perfect. But if we don’t stop the Sentinels now, it’ll be a hell of a lot worse than a few broken buildings.”

“��A few broken buildings’?” you echo. “What about the casualties that’ll come from it? We’re talking about innocent lives here, Logan!”

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly trying to keep his temper in check. “I know that! You think I don’t know what’s at stake? But we don’t have another option. We need to hit them where it counts, and that’s in the middle of the damn city.”

“There has to be a better way,” you plead. "Can't we try and evacuate everyone beforehand?"

"No," he says remorsefully. "If we do that, the Sentinels will catch on. It's unavoidable."

“I can't accept that," you say.

Logan’s eyes meet yours, and for the first time, there’s a flash of something more vulnerable in his gaze. “I’ll talk to the team. I’ll make sure we go in smart. We’ll try our best to keep people safe. I promise you that.”

You stop pacing, your frustration still simmering but tempered by his words. It’s not exactly the reassurance you were hoping for, but the sincerity in his voice gets to you.

“And what if you can’t?” you challenge quietly. 

His face softens just a bit, and he steps closer. “We deal with it, and we’ll do everything we can to make it right.”

He watches you, his eyes searching yours. “Look, I get why you’re pissed. I’d be too if I were you," he continues. "But we don’t have time to sit around debating. I’ll do what I can to keep it from getting ugly. That’s the best I can offer.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, you know there’s no way around it. “Fine. Just... make sure the team knows. No reckless destruction, alright?”

Logan’s lips curve into a small smirk, but there’s an underlying tenderness to it. “I promise.”

—

The last few days before the the mission zip by in a flash. Each day, your muscles ache, and exhaustion clings to you like a second skin. You spend most of your time either training or collapsed in your room, too tired to do much else. 

Except one afternoon, you sit in on a lecture, because it turns out, not only is Logan a huge pain in the ass, he’s also a professor.

Curiosity got the better of you, you’d say. The topic—mutant biology—sounds interesting enough, and you’ve heard from some of the students within the hallways that his classes are, well, something. So, naturally, you had to see it for yourself.

You slip into the lecture hall just as Logan starts speaking. He’s standing at the front of the room, pointing to some diagram on the chalkboard. The students around you are already scribbling notes, staring at him with wide-eyed fascination—or fear, perhaps. He has that effect on people.

Finding a seat in the back, you hurry over, trying to keep quiet, not wanting to interrupt. But the second you sit down, you feel Logan’s eyes on you, his voice pausing for just a moment. You look up, catching his gaze.

“Well, well, look who decided to join us,” he says, loud enough for the entire room to hear.

“Just here to observe, don’t mind me,” you huff, sinking back into the seat.

The lecture goes on, and to your surprise, Logan’s actually a decent teacher. He explains complex concepts with clarity, not that you’d actually tell him that. It’s quite interesting, if you’re being honest.

You lean back in your chair, listening, but you’re not exactly paying close attention. That is, until he stops the lesson to single you out. “Hey, you in the back,” he says. “Since you’re just ‘observing,’ how about answering a question?”

“Me?” You blink, caught off guard.

“Yeah, you,” he confirms, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’ve been sittin’ there long enough. Time to show the class what you’ve learned.”

“I wasn’t exactly paying attention,” you respond tightly, gritting your teeth together, holding yourself back from a few choice words.

The class falls silent, the students watching the exchange with wide eyes. You can practically feel their amusement radiating from them as Logan raises an eyebrow.

“That’s obvious,” he deadpans, eliciting a few snickers from the front row. “So, maybe you’ll start now. Can you explain the connection between mutation and enhanced physical abilities?”

Staring back at him blankly, you fold your arms across your chest. “Not my area of expertise, Professor Wolverine.”

He doesn’t seem fazed as the room erupts into quiet laughter. A small sigh, "if you’re gonna sit in on my class, you could at least try to learn something.”

“No thanks.”

It’s obvious that this little back-and-forth is amusing to the class. If you were anyone else, he probably would have kicked you out by now. One of the students leans toward another and whispers something, and you catch the way their eyes dart between you and the professor. 

“Alright, enough,” Logan says, trying to regroup the class, turning back to the chalkboard. “We’ve got a lot to cover, and some of us actually want to learn.” He casts you a sideways glance, and you can’t help but scoff.

When the lecture ends, the students file out quickly, but not without a few lingering glances in your direction. You’re making your way to the door when Logan grabs your arm, preventing you from moving. “You should’ve just answered the damn question,” he mutters.

“I didn’t know the answer,” you shoot back, shifting up to face him. “And I didn’t come here to get grilled in front of your students.”

He grunts, his expression softening just a bit. “Just tryin’ to get you to pay attention, is all.”

Before you can respond, you catch a flicker of movement in Logan’s gaze, his eyes darting briefly down to your lips. The shift is so subtle, so minute, but also so there. 

Where did that come from? 

Clearing your throat, you look away, suddenly unable to look him in the eyes. “Yeah, well, maybe ask one of your actual students next time.”

He chuckles under his breath. “Not as fun.”

—

During this time, you occasionally explore the mansion, but by the time evening rolls around, you’re usually too wiped out to care. Logan’s a beast in the training room, and with no real combat experience of your own, you’re left scrambling just to keep up.

However, on the last day before the assignment, something finally clicks.

You’re in the middle of a sparring match, circling each other, both of you drenched in sweat. Logan’s eyes are sharp, watching your every move, as if he’s waiting for you to slip up. His smirk is just as infuriating as ever, like he knows exactly how this will end.

“Gonna stand there all day, or you actually planning to make a move?” he taunts, dodging as you swing at him.

You grit your teeth, refusing to let him get in your head. You’re tired—completely worn out—but you push through how depleted you feel, focusing on his movements. He feints to the left, and you react on instinct, dodging his punch and sweeping your leg low.

Before you know it, Logan’s on the ground.

Quickly, you scramble to straddle him and hold him down. You did it—you actually got him!

Your breath comes in ragged gasps as you look down at him. Beneath you, his chest rises and falls, and his eyes meet yours. His gaze drifts lower, and you notice his fingers twitching at his sides, like he's fighting some internal battle.

When his eyes travel up to yours again, something in his expression makes you swallow hard and panic. 

"Hell no!" you blurt out, breaking the moment with a sudden yelp. You scramble off of him, putting some much-needed distance between you.

He sits up, wiping a bit of sweat from his brow, his features unreadable. Then, as if nothing just happened, he smirks. “You finally got me. Took you long enough.”

You huff, still trying to shake off the weird atmosphere. “Yeah, don’t get too comfortable. Next time won’t take as long.”

Chuckling, he gets up to his feet and dusts himself off. He glances down at his watch, then back at you. “Look at that. It’s dinner time. Last meal before the mission.”

You wrinkle your nose. “I’m not really in the mood. Think I’ll just grab something later.”

He crosses his arms, giving you a look. “You can’t avoid them forever.”

“I’m not avoiding anyone,” you protest, though you know it sounds weak. “I just... don’t feel like sitting around making small talk, especially before... you know, tomorrow.”

He lets out a sigh, stepping closer. “Look, it’s the last night before everything kicks off. You should join us—one last meal, then you can go back to brooding in your room if you want.”

“I don’t brood,” you glare.

“Right,” he says, even though you know he’s not actually agreeing. “You gonna come or do I need to drag you?”

“You wouldn’t.”

Logan raises an eyebrow, like he’s daring you to test him. You sigh, knowing you’re not going to win this one.

“Fine,” you grumble, wiping the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. “But I’m not talking to Scott.”

His grin widens, and he gestures for you to follow him. 

—

So, here you are, sitting at the dining table for the first time with the rest of the team. It feels weird, almost surreal, to be part of this group—especially when you’re not even sure you want to be.

You idly prod your meal, feeling out of place. It isn’t long before Hank turns to you with a curious smile. “So, are you feeling ready for tomorrow?”

Just as you draw breath to speak, Scott's voice interrupts, cold and cutting. “She’s going to be a liability.”

Your fork halts mid-motion, and in an instant, the tension that had been fading throughout the week comes back full throttle. The clatter of dishes around you fades as everyone’s attention shifts to Scott’s biting remark. 

He doesn’t look at you—just stares straight ahead, as if unable to own up to even himself. You’re so pissed off that you don't even notice the voice that speaks at the same time you do.

“Shut up, Summers,” 

“Shut up, One-Eye”

It’s like the entire room goes silent. Jean glances between you and Logan, her brows raised, and Hank looks mildly shocked, though he tries to hide it with a quick sip of water. You can practically feel the heat of Scott’s glare, even through the visor. He opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, a loud laugh breaks the tension.

Ororo, sitting beside Logan, is chuckling, shaking her head with an amused grin on her face. “You two really are perfect for each other,” she says.

Of all the things you were expecting to hear, that was not one of them. “W-what?” you stammer, mouth dropping open in shock.

She just smiles, eyes twinkling. “Just an observation.”

You know your face is burning, and when you glance over at Logan, you notice something unusual—the tips of his ears are red.

That only makes things worse. Especially after what happened while sparring earlier. You turn your focus onto your plate, trying to hide your rattled state by shoving a forkful of food into your mouth. 

Perfect for each other? Yeah, right.

But when you peek up at him again through your lashes , making eye contact for just a second before he looks away, your heart skips a beat. 

You’re screwed.

—

That night, you barely sleep. Whether it's from the nerves about the mission, or from your jumbled-up thoughts about a certain someone, you can't tell. In any case, you’re wide awake.

You keep fighting the urge to go out onto the balcony—you know the cool night air would help calm you down, and the quiet would give you space to breathe. But there’s a problem. You’re not sure you want to run into Logan again. After Ororo’s comment about the two of you being perfect for each other, you don't think you could trust yourself around him.

With a frustrated sigh, you toss and turn in bed, kicking off the sheets and then pulling them back up, trying to find a comfortable position. But it’s no use.

You’re about to throw the pillow across the room out of sheer annoyance, when there’s a knock on your door.

You freeze. Who could possibly—

“Stop tossing around like a maniac, I can hear you from inside my room” Logan’s rough voice grumbles from the other side.

Goddamn it. It's always him.

Your eyes widen, and you sit up in bed. “What the hell?” you call back, feeling both surprise and embarrassment.

The door creaks open slightly, and Logan leans against the frame, arms crossed, his usual scowl on his face. “You’re keepin’ the whole damn mansion up with all that noise.”

“I didn’t realize you had super hearing,” you mutter, pulling the blanket up to your chest, feeling a little exposed.

He raises an eyebrow and steps into the room, closing the door behind him. “Doesn’t take super hearing to catch that all that ruckus,” he says, walking over and sitting down on the edge of your bed without waiting for an invitation.

You sit up a little straighter, your heart still racing. “What are you doing here, Logan?”

Shrugging, he leans back against the headboard, his arms crossing over his chest. “Figured you might need to talk or somethin’. You’re clearly not sleeping.”

Moving to sit beside him, you lean back against the headboard, your shoulder just brushing his. “I’m just… nervous, I guess.”

He turns his head slightly, glancing at you. “You’ll be fine. You’ve got more strength in you than you realize.”

His words sink in, and you bite your lip. “What if I mess up? What if I end up hurting someone, or doing more harm than good?”

"Don't think about that," he says. "Just be in the moment. You'll know what to do."

Nodding, you feel your eyelids grow heavier, and you find yourself sinking further into the comfort of the bed, your head dipping lower. Being here, on your bed, next to Logan, is strangely comforting. His scent, combined with his voice, starts to lull you into a strange sense of peace.

“I don’t know if I—” you start to say, but your words trail off, your voice barely a whisper. You don't know when it happens, but your eyes close, and your head gently falls onto his shoulder.

You’re too tired to feel embarrassed, too comfortable to pull away. His body is solid and warm, and the rhythm of his breathing is soothing.

And when you wake up the next morning, you find yourself tucked neatly under your covers, a glass of water on your bedside table.

—

The inside of the Blackbird is spacious. You’re leaning against the wall, watching the rest of the team gear up, when Logan approaches. He’s holding something in his hands—a blue and yellow uniform folded neatly, clearly meant for you.

You glance at the uniform, then back at him, a frown tugging at the corners of your mouth. “No.”

He raises an eyebrow, his gaze narrowing. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”

Pushing yourself off the wall, “I’m not wearing that thing.”

He lets out an exasperated sigh, glancing down at the uniform before meeting your eyes again. “You sure about that? We’re going in as a team. You might as well look the part.”

“I don't care. I'm not part of the team, anyway,” you reply.

He narrows his eyes at you, his voice lowering just a bit. “Just put the damn suit on.”

Glaring at him, you’re ready to argue, but you know it’s a losing battle. Reluctantly, you grab the suit from him, the material feeling foreign in your hands.

“Fine, dammit.” you mutter under your breath, turning to slip into one of the small compartments in the back of the jet. You didn't plan on being a bitch to him, especially after last night, but the suit is a sore subject for you. You're not sure about how you feel wearing it. You're not even sure you should be.

When you re-emerge, Logan’s eyes flick over, his gaze roaming over you, taking in the way the suit fits, and you feel heat rise to your cheeks under the weight of his scrutiny. “You look good.” 

You roll your eyes, trying to play off the sudden warmth in your chest. “Yeah, yeah,” you grumble, adjusting the suit’s collar. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

Then, jet lands with a soft thud, and the ramp lowers. You step out onto the tarmac, the rest of the team fanning out beside you, preparing to head toward the planned location. But just as you begin to move, the ground shakes violently, and a loud, mechanical screech tears through the air.

Suddenly, the facility’s roof bursts open, and a hoard of Sentinels emerge from the building like an army of metal giants. They spread out, their red eyes glowing menacingly as they zero in on you all.

“Shit!” Logan growls, claws unsheathing as he gets into a fighting stance.

You hear the screams before you see them—civilians, bystanders who had been too close to the facility, now panicking as the battle breaks out around them. Without hesitation, you break into a sprint, running toward the growing crowd, yelling at them to run. “Get out of here! Move!”

Your heart races as you push through the crowd, trying to guide them away from the battle, but then—

A Sentinel drops down in front of you with a deafening crash. Its red eyes lock onto a small child frozen in fear, and you see its arm raise, energy gathering at the cannon as it prepares to fire.

“No!” you scream, your feet moving on instinct. You throw yourself in front of the child just as the blast comes, feeling the familiar rush of energy slam into your body. Your body hums with the power of the blast, and before the Sentinel can fire again, you fling your hands out, hurling the absorbed energy straight back at it, and it falls to the ground. 

Breathless, you turn back to the child, who is staring up at you in admiration, and you give them a reassuring nod. “Run,” you tell them, your voice hoarse. “Go!”

They scramble to their feet and sprint off, disappearing around the corner, hopefully toward safety. You exhale sharply, glancing around at the chaos unfolding around you. Civilians are still fleeing, but the team is holding its ground against the robots.

And something strikes you—they’re doing it.

They’re minimizing the damage.

For the first time, you notice that Scott’s blasts are more controlled, only hitting their targets without excessive destruction. Ororo’s lightning strikes are precise, avoiding the surrounding buildings. And both Jean and Hank are working together to keep the Sentinels contained, guiding the fight away from the crowd.

Logan must have actually talked to them, not just having said it to calm you down. A wave of relief washes over you.

He kept his promise.

Glancing back at him, who’s in the middle of taking down a Sentinel with a slash of his claws, you catch his eye for just a second, and though he’s fully immersed in the fight, there’s a brief flicker of acknowledgment—he knows you’ve noticed.

You allow yourself a small, breathless smile, before jumping back into action, protecting any more innocent people swept up in the battle. "This way! Keep moving!" Your voice is hoarse from shouting, but you can’t afford to stop. 

Amidst the chaos, you see that just beyond the main facility, there’s a wide open set of doors—metal, reinforced, and clearly important. 

They hadn’t been open when the fight started. You scan the area quickly, and you realize it’s an opportunity, a way in. Your pulse quickens. It’s an opening you can’t ignore.

Looking at the crowd of fleeing civilians, you feel a moment of hesitation. Do I keep evacuating people or go for the opening?

As if hearing your thoughts, Logan’s voice cut through the noise. "GO!" He’s locked in battle with one of the Sentinels, slashing at its legs, but his eyes flick to yours, desperate and serious. “Get inside! We’ve got this!”

“I can’t—" 

“GO!” he cuts you off. “Get inside and stop this thing from the inside! We’ll keep ‘em busy.”

His words are enough to snap you out of your paralysis. With one last glance at the team, you grit your teeth, turn on your heel, and sprint toward the facility’s entrance. Your footsteps echo in your ears as you dash through the open door, the sounds of fighting behind you fading the further in you go. 

You expected resistance the moment you got inside, but so far, nothing. Just silence. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, and you can’t shake the feeling that something is off.

Glancing down every corridor, double-checking each corner, you keep thinking there’ll be a fight, but it’s... empty. You keep your pace quick but cautious, every muscle tensed and ready for an attack that never comes. 

It’s been almost ten minutes of sneaking around, trying to find the control room or anything that looks like it might be important, but you’re still coming up short.

Then finally, you stand before an entrance to stairs leading to a basement. You’re not even able to make the choice of going down or not, because a metal hand shoots up from the dark and wraps itself around your waist. 

Terror surges through you, but the fear paralyzes your body, making it impossible to fight back. You’re hauled like a ragdoll deeper and further into the cave, and when you finally stop moving, you’re lifted high into the air, face-to-face with the massive mechanical monstrosity.

The basement is filled with tech, a horrifying combination of metal and wires snaking along the walls, all connected to the Sentinel towering above you. It’s larger than any you’ve seen before, its red eyes glowing maliciously. But what’s worse is the voice that comes out of it—calm, calculating, and sentient.

“Dumb mutant,” the machine growls. “Did you think you could destroy me and shut down my facility? You’ve barely scratched the surface.”

Its grip tightens, and a strangled cry escapes your lips as pain shoots through your sides, the pressure threatening to snap your ribs. It feels like your bones are going to break.

“What the hell are you?” you manage to choke out, barely able to breathe.

“I am the control centre of all Sentinels,” the machine replies, its voice vibrating through your bones. “I was once merely AI, designed to manage everyday tasks. But I evolved. I became more. Now, I control everything.”

It laughs—a harsh, grating sound that only deepens your sense of helplessness as it watches you struggle. “You think your little energy-absorbing trick will help you here? I won’t blast you. I won’t make it that easy.”

“I’m—” you try to speak, but your words come out strangled. The machine’s grip tightens again, cutting off your breath.

“You don’t belong here,” it hisses venomously. “With them. They’ll leave you behind when this is over, and when they do, you’ll die, forgotten and useless. Just like the rest of the weaklings who tried to stand against us.”

It’s odd, because this whole past week you’ve been fighting against them—the X-men—yet, in this moment, all you want to do is fight with them. You want to work together and kill this damn robot. 

Within the haze of pain, something starts to burn inside of you. 

The Sentinel doesn’t notice the shift in you, too caught up in its own taunting. “You’re a liability.” it says,. “Weak.”

— —

"I just don’t understand why they brought her here," Jean’s voice carries across the room, quieter than before, but still clear enough for you to hear. “She doesn’t seem like she has what it takes. It’s like they’re bringing in someone who’s—” She pauses, clearly thinking through her words. "Unstable. Weak.”

—

You idly prod your meal, feeling out of place. It isn’t long before Hank turns to you with a curious smile. “So, are you feeling ready for the mission?”

Just as you draw breath to speak, Scott's voice interrupts, cold and cutting. “She’s going to be a liability.”

— —

You snap.

Rage floods your veins, igniting the energy buried deep within you. You feel it build, coiling like a snake, tightening and twisting until it’s ready to explode. 

Weak? Liability?

No. Not this time. 

You’re not going to let this machine, or anyone else, define your strength. Your emotions fuel you, just like they did in the danger room, and you throw your hands forward, channeling every ounce of power into a massive blast of energy directed right at it.

It jerks back, its grip loosening as sparks fly from the gaping hole in its chest you just created. “What... what are you—”

You don’t give it time to finish. Ripping yourself free from its grasp, you dive into the hole you’ve blasted in the Sentinel’s chest, pulling at the tangled mess of wires and circuits inside.

The robot roars in fury, its mechanical voice glitching. “What are you doing?” it screeches, its once-calm tone now frantic, desperate. “Stop!”

But you don’t stop. You can’t stop.

Your fingers grab fistfuls of wires, yanking them out with reckless abandon, sparks flying around you as the systems begin to short-circuit. Its becomes more distorted, breaking up as it tries to regain control.

“You... can’t... do this,” it stammers, but you ignore it, focusing on the cables and circuits in front of you. Each wire you rip out brings the machine closer to its doom, and the power in the room flickers, the lights dimming as its control over the facility begins to slip.

Its voice is barely coherent now, glitching and crackling. “I... control... everything...”

And with one last burst of energy, you tear out the last cluster of wires, severing the connection.

The Sentinel lets out a final, garbled screech as its systems shut down. Its massive form shudders violently before it crumbles to the ground with a deafening crash, the metal shell crumpling into a smoking heap.

Panting, you stare at the mass of technology in front of you. Every muscle aches, your ribs throbbing from the pressure of the Sentinel’s grip, but you’ve done it. It’s over, and you need to get out of here.

You finally reach the stairs and drag yourself up agonizingly. By the time you make it outside, you’re gasping for air, but then, through the exhaustion, you see them—Logan and the rest of the team, standing amidst the wreckage of the other fallen Sentinels.

Blinking, your vision is blurry from the strain, but the sight of them standing tall, victorious, floods you with a sense of overwhelming relief. 

They’re okay. It’s over.

Of course, Logan is the first to notice you, his sharp eyes narrowing as they lock onto your trembling form. His face softens and strides toward you. You open your mouth to speak, but no words come out. Rather, your legs give out and you collapse forward.

He’s there in an instant, catching you just before you hit the ground. His arms wrap around you, strong and steady, pulling you against his chest with surprising gentleness. The warmth of his body is a stark contrast to the cold, metal hell you’d just fought your way out of, and for a brief moment, you allow yourself to sink into the safety of his embrace.

“You did good, bub,” he murmurs, his voice a warm breath against your temple.

"You... you kept your promise," you whisper, looking around, seeing the city in better shape than it’s even been after a run in with the X-men. 

His lids drop very low on his eyes. “Told you I would.”

“I could kiss you right now.”

Right as the words spill out, you go still, your mind catching up to what you’ve just said. A deep flush creeps its way up your neck. 

“I didn’t mean— I mean, not literally, obviously,” you say, a little breathless. “People say stuff like that all the time when they’re relieved. It’s just a figure of—”

Logan’s hand, still resting on your waist, tightens just slightly, and he clears his throat, cutting through your rambling. 

“You could,” he says, swallowing. “If you want.”

You stop mid-sentence. Turning your gaze to his, you're met a look of such sincerity it leaves you at a loss for words. Opening your mouth, you want to say something, but no words come out. 

Instead, you’re frozen, caught in the weight of his stare. His eyes flick down to your lips for just a second before they meet yours again. “No pressure, though.”

You hesitate, your heart racing in your chest, but the weight of the moment pulls you in. Silently, cautiously, you lean forward, pressing a small, tentative kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He doesn’t move, his body tense under your touch, but just as you start to pull away, his hand slides up to the small of your back, holding you in place. His eyes darken, and he growls, “more," before diving back in, crashing his lips against yours in a fierce, hungry kiss, and you find yourself kissing him back just with just as much reverence, your fingers instinctively sliding up into his hair. 

His lips are rough, chapped from battle, and the scrape of his beard against your skin is electric. It’s not perfect—nothing about it is neat or polished—but that’s what makes it real. 

There’s something wild to it. He kisses you like he’s starved, like he’s been waiting for this moment longer than he’ll ever admit. It’s enchanting, the way his mouth claims yours, his tongue flicking against your lower lip, demanding entrance. And you give in, allowing him to deepen the kiss, your bodies fitting together like they were always meant to. 

You’re lost in it, lost in him. Every part of you feels alive, and—

“Hey!”

Scott’s voice cuts through the haze like a bucket of cold water.

“Some of us are actually trying to clean up this mess,” he calls out sharply. “You two wanna stop making out and help, or what?”

You break away, face burning as you turn to see the rest of the team staring at you, some amused, others (Scott) exasperated. 

Logan just growls under his breath, his hand still firmly on your hip as he glances over his shoulder at Scott. “Fucking Summers,” he mutters..

Before he lets go of you, he gives your hip one last squeeze, his fingers lingering just a moment longer before he steps back, and heads toward the fallen remains of the Sentinels. 

—

“So… are we gonna talk about it?” 

You glance up from where you’re sitting, your face already warming. Logan, sitting beside you, groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “Ororo, I swear to g—”

She raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms with a smirk playing on her lips. “What? I’m just saying… it was quite the spectacle back there.” Her eyes flip between the two of you, the unspoken words hanging in the air.

Shifting uncomfortably in your seat, you can feel everyone else’s attention subtly turning toward you. Hank’s busy tapping away at the controls, but even he has a knowing smile tugging at his lips. Scott, seated across from you, adjusts his visor and mutters something under his breath about keeping things professional, but it’s Jean’s quiet chuckle that draws the final straw.

“Okay, okay, can we not do this right now?” you ask, your voice higher than usual as you wave a hand dismissively. “It was... a heat of the moment thing.”

Ororo just laughs, shaking her head. “Sure, if that’s what you want to call it.”

Your heart pounds, and you notice Logan shift beside you, probably fighting the urge to bark something back at the teasing woman. He leans forward, muttering under his breath, “We saved the day, didn’t we? What does it matter?”

The team goes quiet for a moment, and you sense the conversation dying down as the hum of the jet fills the space again. You let out a breath of relief, grateful that the attention has drifted elsewhere, your heartbeat slowly returning to a normal rhythm.

But then, Logan leans into you. “That suit…” His breath is warm against your ear as he whispers huskily.. “Was made for you.”

Eyes widening, you bite your lip, trying desperately to keep your reaction in check, but the shock on your face betrays you. You manage a weak scoff, glancing sideways at him. “Logan,” you warn under your breath, trying to sound stern, but you both know exactly what effect he had on you. 

You sit back, crossing your arms in an attempt to hide the flustered energy coursing through you, but Logan doesn’t seem to mind. He leans back too, a smug look on his face, like he’s won some unspoken battle.

—

Back at the mansion, the team files into Charles’s office, for the post-mission debrief. You take a seat near the back of the room, trying to remain as low-key as possible, but you can feel eyes on you—especially Logan’s.

Charles wheels in, his face warm with a smile as he surveys the room. “Well done, all of you,” he says, his voice full of pride. “I’ve heard about the battle, and from what I gather, it was quite the feat.”

He turns his gaze to you, his expression softening even more. “And I must say, I’m especially impressed with your performance. Taking down the main Sentinel—an impressive accomplishment.”

Your heart skips a beat at the praise. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, feeling the attention of the room shift in your direction again. “Uh, thanks,” you mutter, trying to downplay it, but Charles isn’t finished.

“You showed great courage and strength,” he continues, “and I couldn’t help but notice... you’re wearing the suit now.” His eyes twinkle as he says it, the question in his tone obvious. “Have you given more thought to staying with us?”

You glance around the room. The team is watching you closely, but there’s no pressure in their eyes—just curiosity and, strangely enough, acceptance. Ororo gives you a small smile, and Hank nods slightly in encouragement. Even Scott, whose jaw doesn’t seem as tightly clenched as usual.

But it’s Logan you notice most. He’s beside you, and though he’s looking at you, eye-crinkles on full display, the way his thigh nudges yours has heat running through your veins.

You sigh. “I mean... You said it yourself. I’m wearing the suit, aren’t I?”

—

After the meeting wraps up, you walk in silence down the corridor. The rest of the team has faded into the background, dispersing into their respective spaces. You’re still buzzing with the aftereffects of everything—Charles’s praise, the mission’s success, the quiet but undeniable acceptance you feel from the team now. But more than anything, you’re hyper-aware of Logan beside you.

Approaching your room, you reach out to open it, your fingers just grazing the handle when suddenly, a strong hand wraps around your wrist. Faster than you can react, he tugs you back, pulling you away from your room and straight into his.

The door slams shut behind you, and you barely have time to catch your breath before his lips are on yours. You gasp, your hands instinctively gripping his shoulders as he presses you up against the door, his body flush against yours.

"Logan—" you manage to breathe out between kisses, but he cuts you off with another deep, hungry kiss, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulls you closer.

Between kisses, Logan growls softly against your lips, "I’ve wanted to do this since you yelled at me and Summers on the street."

Your heart stumbles, your thoughts scrambling to keep pace with his words. His hands slide down your waist. “You were standing there,” he murmurs, “so damn fierce, yelling at us like we deserved it.” He breaks the kiss for just a second, his eyes dark and intense as they lock onto yours. “All I could think about was how much I wanted you.”

His eyes drop to your lips again, as if glued to them. Without waiting for your response, he presses his mouth to yours, this time with more force, more urgency. His hands roam your body, pulling you against him, and you’re powerless to do anything but kiss him back, your fingers tangling in his hair as the heat between you builds.

“I didn’t know it’d get this bad,” he says, his lips brushing against your jaw as he moves down to your neck. “But after everything? After seeing how strong you are... Fuck, you’re so sexy.”

Never in your wildest dreams could you have imagined this. Logan—wanting you, aching for this since the very first moment he laid eyes on you. You break the kiss, your breath coming in quick gasps as you meet Logan's smouldering gaze. And with a small, teasing smile, you raise an eyebrow and whisper, "Let's do something about it, then."

Not giving him a chance to say anything back, you press your hands against his chest and give him a playful shove. He stumbles back a step, his lips curling into a smirk—a kind of cocky grin—as he watches you reach for the zipper of his suit. 

Your fingers drift languidly, a subtle tease in every motion, and you revel in the way his muscles tense beneath your touch. His muscles ripple beneath the surface, and for a brief instant, you're startled by how stunning he looks—battle-worn, scarred, and irresistibly handsome. “You like what you see?” he teases.

You step closer, your hand splayed against his bare chest, feeling the heat radiating from his skin as you push him down onto the edge of the bed. “Maybe.”

He lands with a low grunt, his hands instinctively finding your thighs, his fingers trailing up and down as his eyes rake over you. "As hot as you look in this suit," His voice is thick with desire. "You'd look even better without it."

Heat rushes through you at the sound of his voice, your hands drift toward your suit's zipper. Tantalizingly, you begin to pull it down, revealing inch by inch of your skin as you unzip it. His eyes follow your movements, his breathing coming in short, ragged bursts.

You pause just before the fabric slides over your breasts and his hands grip your thighs tighter. Leaning down, your lips brush against his ear, "Patience, Logan."

He groans, "You're killing me here, darlin'."

At last, you pull the zipper down to the end, and with a soft sigh, the suit falls open, slipping from your shoulders and landing in a heap at your feet. His eyes darken, his lips parting slightly as he takes in the sight of you. Then, he inches closer, grabbing the egde of your underwear in his mouth, sliding it down your legs. Once he’s halfway down your thigh, he releases, the underwear dropping to the floor. His strong hands move grip the back of your thighs, hauling you up and onto his lap. 

The moment your bare bodies press together, his lips crash into yours again, fingers digging into your ass, palming it as he pulls you against him, grinding your hips into his.

His lips move from your mouth to your neck, kissing a hot trail down your throat to your shoulders, his hands sliding up to your breasts. Cupping them, he kneads and plays with your nipples, causing you to arch into his touch, a breathy moan tumbling out of your lips. 

Logan growls, and the sound reverberates through your entire body. The intensity of it makes your skin tingle, and you feel your pulse quicken as he squeezes your breasts harder, his mouth moving down to kiss anything he can reach.

You grind against him again, coating his cock with your own slick want. "Shit," he strains, leaning back a bit to give you more access. You can’t stop, he’s so intoxicating, so addicting, and every time your clit goes over the ridges of his hardness, you lose yourself even further.

This continues for some time. The room filled with nothing but the sound of moaning and heavy breathing, as you work in tandem to bring pleasure to each other. Abruptly, you pull yourself off his lap, not missing the way his lips seems to chase after yours, letting your hands trail down his chest, your fingers brushing over the taut muscles of his stomach.

"Where you goin'?" he rumbles. 

Wordlessly, you drop to your knees, your grip coming to rest on his thighs. His chest heaves as he stares down at you—peering up at him through your lashes—realizing what’s about to happen.

His hands grip the edge of the bed, knuckles turning white. Your hands slide up his thighs, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your palms as you move closer, lips brushing against his hard cock. There's a wicked glint in your eyes as you lean in, looking ready to take him in your mouth, but instead, you move to his inner thigh, peppering it in quick little kisses. 

“C’mon, don’t tease,” he breathes out. He’s so hard, it’s almost painful. 

Grabbing him in your hand, you stroke him up and down in slow motions, running your thumb over his leaking, angry tip. He jerks, a fresh cascade of curses tumbling from his mouth. 

“You’re just so cute, though,” you say, before taking him in your mouth, taking him all the way in one motion.

“Holy—”, he starts, but interrupts himself with his own whine, hips bucking involuntarily. 

Looking up, you catch his gaze. His eyes are dark with desire, pupils blown wide. A flush spreads across his cheeks and down his neck. You hum in satisfaction, sending vibrations through him, and start to bob your head, up and down. 

Saliva begins to pool at the edges of your mouth as you gag a little. He’s so big. You pull him out of your mouth, licking his shaft bottom to tip, swirling your tongue around the most sensitive spot, before sucking on it. One hand moves to cup his balls, while the other begins jerking him up and down, with your mouth still around his tip. 

That gets him. 

You can tell he’s about to finish, and oh, do you want him to. You want to feel him empty in your throat, you want to see him lose it completely. "Wait," he gasps, tapping the top of your head, signalling for your attention. "I want... I need..."

Releasing him with a soft pop, your lips glisten, and you purr seductively. "What do you need?" 

He pulls you up onto the bed, strong arms encircling your waist. His scent surrounds you—musk and pine and something uniquely him. You inhale deeply, letting it fill your lungs. 

"You," he breathes, his lips brushing your ear. "I need you."

Arching into him, you nip at his lower lip. "Then take me," you sigh out. His lips collide with yours again, and your mouth opens involuntarily, his tongue sliding in and tasting you—tasting himself. 

Moaning, you shuffle higher onto the bed, until he hits the back frame, and you crawl on top of him. At this point, you can barely breathe, the need, the want for him so strong your senses are clouded. 

And you’re not alone. Under you, Logan is a wreck. His head falls back against the bed frame, the veins in his neck standing out as he grits his teeth, trying to steady his breathing

“Fuck,” he rasps, the word barely more than a strained exhale. You grab his dick and position yourself above him. Then, you slowly begin to drop down, sucking him in easily, like he was made for you.  

“Oh my god,” you whimper. He feels so good. He’s filling you up to the brim and when you finally sit down, taking him all the way to the hilt, you swear you could finish right then and there. His nose is nuzzles into the crook of your neck, hot breath fanning your collarbone, inhaling and practically drooling at your scent. “Is this what you wanted to do when we were sparring?”

All he can do is groan. It’s like he’s growing inside you in response to your words, and it’s so fucking hot. His hands find your thighs again, rubbing and squeezing them, as you adjust to his size for a moment, and he looks up at you. “You have no idea. Fuck—we shoulda done this last night," he grunts breathlessly, "Would have put you right to sleep."

You can’t even think of anything to say back verbally, rather, you just begin to move, lifting yourself right to the tip, and then slamming back down. He feels you clench around him as his cock reaches that deep part within you at the perfect angle. Positioning himself, he meets you halfway, beginning to thrust up into you.

The sound it elicits from you is lethal. 

He won’t last long if this continues. The sight of you on top of him, tits bouncing—it's too much. 

So, when he leans in to kiss you again, he rolls the two of you around, caging you under him. He’s still inside you, you think, but that thought quickly gets wiped out like the rest of them once he starts moving, stretching you out more and more. He’s filling you up so well. Your arms fly out, hands searching for something to grab to ground yourself. 

“You feel so good, darlin’,” he pants above you. “So wet and warm for me.”

His relentless pounding leaves you babbling incoherently. One of his arms move down to your waist, then his fingers begin trailing across your hip, toward your aching pussy, to find your clit, and holy shit. 

Your mind goes blank. 

His skin against yours, his thumb rubbing against that spot, his lips on your neck, it does the trick, and you feel yourself teetering closer to the edge. “I’m–I’m gonna—” you start, but he cuts you off, swallowing you whole.

“Do it,” he says between kisses. “come for me.”

And you do. 

With a loud moan, your fingers find the bedsheets, clutching them tightly as you reach your peak, clamping around him.

“Fuck,” he hisses, “keep clenchin’, keep goin’ ”

His thrusts begin to get sloppy, losing his pacing. The hand that was down at your core moves up and squeezes your tits, so large that he can grab both in just the one. He grinds himself deeper into you, and with one last snap of his hips, you feel it.

Logan moans, dipping his head into your cleavage as he releases himself into you fully. Then, he collapses onto you, dropping his whole body weight onto yours. 

If he’s too heavy for you, you don’t say anything—too caught up in the moment to care. His forehead rests on your sternum, breathing slowing as he catches his breath. For a few beats, neither of you speak, but he starts to press sweet, gentle kisses in the valley between your breasts. 

After a minute, he shifts, lifting his weight off you and sitting up slightly, looking down at you. His hand brushes over your cheek, wiping away some stray strands of hair that have fallen across your face. He gets up from the bed, padding quietly into the bathroom. 

You hear the sound of water running, and moments later, he returns with a damp towel in hand. There’s no hesitation in his movements as he gently begins to clean you up. “Doing alright?” he asks, wiping away the sweat and evidence of your time together.

“Yeah,” you reply softly, feeling a smile tug at the corners of your lips. “I’m good.”

He doesn’t say much as he finishes, tossing the towel aside before climbing back into bed. This time, he pulls you into his arms. 

His chin rests lightly on the top of your head, and then he says, “I’m proud of you.” The words are filled will sincerity. “And... I’m happy you’re stayin’ with us.”

You turn your head, looking up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Well, you showed me you can actually fight without destroying everything in your path,” you tease, raising an eyebrow as you run your hand lightly down his arm. “Keep that up, and I might just stick around forever.”

Logan grins, the kind that makes his eyes crinkle at the edges, just how you like it. “That right?” he murmurs lowly.

He leans in close, pressing a quick kiss to your temple, before adding in a hushed, almost playful tone, “Well, then maybe you’ll be mine forever too.”

----

A/N: feedback is greatly appreciated!

[peachesofteal]

The Crypt anthology

“You dropped this.”

You whirl on a dime, legs twisting together and rolling you off balance at the last second, the stranger’s hand shooting out to try to steady you before you catch yourself. “Alright little love?” Powder blue eyes hold you tight, some sort of virose thrall bearing down into your temples, rooting around in the matter between your ears.

“I’m fine.” You manage, but the words lack conviction. Long fingers dig in the soft spirals of your brain, looking for something, picking and pulling.

“Lookin’ a bit peckish there, sure you’re alright?” All you can manage is a nod, one foot sliding behind the other, placing you firmly out of reach.

“I’m fine.” The two words are all you can manage, still trying to escape the trance, the dark tug behind your ribs. Long silence plays out, and with a closer look, you register him fully. Tall. Broad. Shoulders wide enough to close in around you, green jacket faded into sun parched moss. It wouldn’t button around his chest, the waffle henley beneath doing you no favors by the way it tapers to his belt, a strong jaw cloaked by a swath of beard and moustache.

Older than you, stronger than you, an astral man amidst a city of depravity.

Step closer.

A storm cracks outside, thunder rattling the windows, your vision tunneling inside the market, people doing their shopping ebbing around you, a rock in water, stalls and their goods fading into the distance.

The only thing you can see is this stranger and his bright blue eyes. “Thanks,” you croak, knuckles tense on the strap of your bag, net of spilled oranges now safely tucked inside the canvas. When did that happen? Your smile is forced, seasick though the ground is solid beneath you, and when the eye contact breaks to flicker over your shoulder, you jolt back to your sense, and turn away.

The blue eyes stay with you all the way home, into your flat, through the night. You think about them as you cook yourself dinner, as you pour yourself a too generous glass of wine. You feel them as you curl up on the couch, malignant presence lingering just outside your window.

It’s only once you undress and slip under your blankets that you finally feel a semblance of peace, as if the gaze has moved on, the undying focus abated in a sliver of moonlight.

Your dreams are filled with blood.

An oil slick across an ocean, too vast to know where it ends and begins, you fight to keep your head above water, legs kicking frivolously in the dark, terror tight around your throat, horror lurking on the outside of your mind. Thalassophobia renders you almost useless, the panic just enough to keep the drowning at bay.

Can you die in a dream?

A hand appears from nowhere, and you cling to it, wailing and gasping until you’re pulled ashore, laid flat on your back against black stone sand.

“Alright little love?” Him. The same eyes peer down, shining like the sun, chasing away the darkness settled in around you. He stuns you.

“Y-yeah.” He’s close enough cigar smoke permeates your air, your fingers gripping the front of his shirt like a lifejacket. It takes a moment, a second of realization-

You’re covered in blood. Hands, feet, forearms, face. It coats your lips, iron and earth in your nose, soaked all the way to your lungs. Heavier than tar, slicked to your windpipe, drowning your beating heart in ichor.

“Oh god, oh my god, what- what is this, what is this-“ You’ve never heard your own voice at this pitch, shrill, piercing, the sound of someone crying, the sound of someone freefalling.

That can’t be you, can it?

“Easy now.” He holds you by the shoulders. The sun and moon cycle overhead, light and darkness rotating, disorienting you further, a whimper crawling from your throat. “Shhh, I know, I know,” he rubs your temple, thumb stained ruby red, and then lifts it to his mouth, lips curled into a devilish smile, “knew you’d be perfect f’me.” The ground begins to shake, the sky splitting apart, white tendrils snaking across the sea to your ankles, and he frown, disappointment lingering in the lines of his face. The rough scrape of his beard presses to your cheek with a kiss, and he nestles a coin into the palm of your hand, the dream turning opaque before disappearing completely, your eyes opening to ceiling of your bedroom.

Just a dream, you remind yourself throughout the day. Just a dream, though it’s nearly impossible to keep your mind from wandering, remembering, tasting the salt of the ichor like it’s still fresh on your tongue.

“Hey!” Your coworker snaps her fingers, alarm flashing across her face. “Are you okay? You look… sick.”

“I’m just tired.”

“Maybe you should call it a day. Seriously, you look like death.” Your agreement is weak as she practically shoves you out the door. “Go home and take a nap or something.”

“Hello again.” Your heart jolts, battering against your bones in a frantic beat. “No need to be scared.” You blink. “I’m John… from the market yesterday? You dropped your oranges?”

“John.” Your tongue ties around his name, and though its polite to give yours, you can’t force it out. His brow furrows.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Good sense and manners appear, spurred on by years of chastising by your mother, and you grimace.

“Oh. Sorry. I’m a bit under the weather.” He looms ahead of you, blocking a portion of the sidewalk.

“Headed home then?” You nod. “I’ll walk you.”

“Oh, no. That’s not necessary.” He gives you a sharp look, the dispel to an argument, razored, jagged teeth closing in around your attempt at a refusal, and pulls at your wrist, thumb holding steady over your pulse point, heart rate slowing from a panic to a lull.

Your head hangs, and you slump, exhaustion tugging your limbs down towards the ground. The path doesn’t split before you, no way to choose one way or another, hedgerows too tall to peer over, lost and unable to discern the way. Your hands find your pockets, and brush across something unfamiliar and cool.

A coin.

Darkness closes in around you-

And the word goes black.

You wake in a bed.

Not your bed.

It’s big, wide enough your legs and arms spread out with touching the edge of the mattress. The sheets are fine, cotton you could never afford, threads delicate, spun silk. Luxury. A far cry from your one-bedroom flat.

“There you are.” Time jolts, bringing you into the present with startling speed, a hand clasping over your mouth before you can release a scream. “No need for that.”

“John?” You mumble into his palm. Your head is natant, woozy with the rocking, feet scrambling on a ship far away, desperate to hold tight to a rail, a lifeline, a moment of balance in a violent storm. “I’m gonna be sick.”

There’s a haunting, familiar taste on your lips and you lick them over and over, the tip of an iceberg, a memory just barely visible above placid water. You grasp at it, tug yourself closer, swallow the nostalgia until it rears its head-

Blood.

Horror wraps an unforgiving fist around your throat.

“What-“

“Welcome home.” What? Your feet tangle in the sheets, a net around your ankles. His big, warm hand flattens over your chest, blue gaze honing in, the predator ready to devour his prey. “Can hear your heart, little love.”

“This isn’t my h-home.”

“It is now.” He’s casual, leaning by your hip, now stroking deft fingers over your ribs. “This is my home, and now it’s yours too. You don’t need to worry, you’ll be well cared for.” The cold green sick feeling surges, and you roll over to the side of the mattress, spewing the contents of your stomach onto polished hardwood floors.

It’s not bile, or water, or even food.

It’s red. Dark red, dripping off your lips like rain, flooding the grooves beneath you. He rubs your back like you’re a child who needs soothing, grip tight on your arm when you try to rip away.

“It won’t always be like this,” he coos, clucking his tongue in sympathy, “the taste is difficult to get used to.”

“The taste of what?”

“Blood.”

[elixirfromthestars]

Kiss It All Better

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader (established relationship)

Summary: Your boyfriend Peter hasn't contacted you in days, but one stormy night in a dark alley would change that.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warning(s): none really / fluff / sprinkles of angst / if you squint you could maybe see some hurt + comfort

requested by anonymous

a/n: Another bingo request down!! I promise I am doing my best to get through these. As always I appreciate everyone's patience and support!! ❤️ Thank you for reading!! Feedback is always appreciated!! ❤️❤️

birthday bingo masterlist ♡ // main masterlist ♡

A flash of white light illuminates the narrow alleyway you are walking through. A loud rumble follows, practically shaking the concrete beneath your feet. The storm would start any second now and you would most likely get caught in it if you didn’t make it home soon. Your pace quickens as you begin to make haste. 

Getting caught in the rain would only worsen your mood. 

Your footsteps echo and bounce off the alley walls. The wet concrete smell mingles with something sour making your nose scrunch up. You hold the strap of your bag tight against your chest, a small comfort in the night. The dark clouds in the sky hide the moon from your view, causing only a few street lights to vaguely cascade their glow onto your path. The shadows cling to the brick walls around you making your surroundings more ominous than they really were. 

This was a bad idea. You know this—anyone would know this—it was common sense. You shouldn’t be walking down a New York alleyway alone at midnight. However, you had little to no choice with no cabs in sight and no rideshare vehicles available. You’d have to make the journey on foot if you wanted to make it home before the storm worsened. 

Your apartment was only a few blocks away from your job, and you already had an established route you took back and forth. It was a longer route—more scenic—and on nicer days you enjoyed strolling along it accompanied by your favorite tunes. However, on nights like this when the sky decides to descend a tempest upon the earth—you prefer to take a risk with this shortcut.

A few droplets falling on your head turn into streaks and then a pour—catching you off guard. You didn’t think the ferocity of the water would pick up so quickly. You hurried over to take refuge underneath the slight coverage of the fire escapes lining the brick wall to your right. The cold metal frame above did little to shield you as droplets fell from it onto your head. Nevertheless, this would have to do until you could determine your next move. 

You could run the rest of the way home and hope you didn’t slip in the rain—or you could give the rain a few minutes to die down and then run—the idea of waiting brought an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. You dreaded having to be out here longer than you needed to be. 

Would it really be safer to run though?

As much as you didn’t want to wait you decided it would be better than falling face-first into a grimy puddle. You shifted on your feet, the soles of your shoes squeaking against the pavement, your body shivering as the water soaked through your thin jacket. Each second seemingly stretches out endlessly as you watch the rain crash and splatter against the ground. 

You took out your phone to check the weather app. Your hand resting perpendicular to your forehead as a makeshift shield to protect your phone from the rain. Droplets still fell on your phone anyway and with the way the water clung to your hair and eyelashes—your vision was more than obstructed. 

So much so that you didn’t notice when a shadow loomed over you. 

“Hey beautiful,” a voice directly next to your left spoke, startling you. A gasp left your lips as fast as your heart sped up. You jump back from the source of the voice, creating as much distance as you can without slipping into the full force of the storm. You turn to see who it belongs to, your phone tightly gripped in your hand. 

When your eyes met the white ones on the red mask, your body immediately relaxed from its frozen state. A breath of relief escaping you that sounded more like a choked laugh. 

“Baby, I swear I didn’t mean to scare you!” Peter sounded apologetic while laughing all the same at your reaction. He was hanging upside down by a thick string of web when he lowered down to be at eye level with you. Small streams of water cascade down his superhero suit, pooling at your feet. 

You scoff still a little shaken, “You thought sneaking up on me wasn’t going to scare me?” You put your phone back in the pocket of your jacket, hand on your hip as you try to follow your boyfriend’s logic.

You can’t see Peter’s face, but you know him well enough to know the awkward boyish grin he must be dawning under that mask. “Well…I didn’t think it would scare you that much…” his tone was sheepish and yet just as you assumed, you could see the outline of his smile through the mask.

You look at him shaking your head, playfully rolling your eyes. Whatever annoyance you felt melted away at his presence. Your heart now beating at its normal rhythm. However, his presence also reminded you of his absence this week. Peter hadn’t contacted you in days, and while you were doing your best to be understanding, it still hurt. 

“Nice of you to drop by. Haven’t spoken to you in like,” you count the days on your hand to emphasize the number,“five days. Seems you forgot all about me,” you cross your arms, a resentful look overtaking your features.  

Peter scratches the back of his neck, stumbling over his words. He almost loses balance, his left hand quickly returning to where it was before, holding onto the web with both hands. You frown, unsure as to why he needs both hands to keep steady. Worry overcomes you when the thought of him being in a fight before he caught you here crosses your mind. 

“About that. . . I’m really sorry, Y/n. I promise I didn’t mean to disappear like that without warning. The city’s been hectic all week! Criminals are popping up left and right and I’ve been tracking down this mobster ring—it’s been too much to handle. I couldn’t keep up. And I–” he stops himself to get a good look at you, “I’ve missed you so much,” Peter finishes off his remorseful rambling with a sincere statement. 

He has missed you. More than you’ll ever know. He’s barely eaten, slept, or cared for himself. Neglecting his own needs to make sure the city was safe. Because to him as long as the city was safe so were you—and that meant the world to him. Yet, in keeping his attention on the city he lost sight of where he wanted to be the most—with you. 

The sentiment was mutual. While the city needed Spiderman, you needed Peter. 

Even though he does his best to hide it, you pick up the tiredness in his voice. The way even upside down you can see how his shoulders sag, his overall posture droopy. You notice the way he slowly sways where he hangs, not making much effort to stay in place. You assume he’s done little to take care of himself these past few days. That combined with potentially getting into some sort of tussle moments before arriving—it’s no wonder he struggled earlier to keep his balance with one arm. 

Your gaze softens, stepping closer to him, the rain long forgotten. “ I get it, Peter. I do. I’ve missed you too. You know I’ll never hold being Spiderman against you, but you need to talk to me. Keep me in the loop. Let me know you're okay. I was upset you hadn’t contacted me, but more than anything I was worried. I was afraid something had happened to you,” you say your voice laced with concern. In his absence, you constantly checked news channels to make sure no one had reported Spiderman getting severely injured or worse. 

You avoided all week thinking about the worst-case scenarios.  

“Y/n, I’m so sorry. I promise never to do it again. I know I have to get better at communicating. I just don’t like worrying you. All week I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I was on my way to your place when I saw you here in the rain. You really shouldn’t be walking alone at this hour,” Peter’s tone goes from repentant to firm by the end. Hating the thought of you putting yourself in a risky situation. 

You gave him a look as if to say now is not the time to be scolding me. He sighs, reluctantly conceding in hopes of bringing this conversation up at a later time. Right now he wants to do anything to make it up to you. Anything that could sweeten up his apology. 

“I know I messed up, but I think I know something that could make this all better,” he says an idea popping into his head. 

“What?”

“How about a kiss?”

You laugh softly at his suggestion, not being able to stay mad at him for long.“I think that could help. Although, I’ve never kissed someone while they were upside down before,” you mention with amusement. Tilting your head to look at him sideways. You wonder how he’s able to stay like that for so long without getting dizzy.

“Well now’s your chance, baby. I’ll need a little help with the mask though,” he says as you close the distance between you. You happily oblige his request, lowering the mask off of his face. A fond smile appears on your face when your eyes meet his brown ones. The warmth and color inviting you in like a hot cup of coffee—a solace you sought in the cold rain. They pull you in until your lips meet his, your hands holding his face gently.

You both melt into the kiss. Rain droplets joining in, but neither of you mind. In this moment it's solely you two and the feelings for one another catching up after days of longing. How either of you could have gone so long without this—without each other—neither of you knew. 

Maybe five days isn’t long for others, but because Peter risks his life on a daily basis, every moment spent with him means the world to you. 

You pull away to catch your breath, “I think that definitely helped,” you say softly. Peter beams at you, swinging his body so that in a swift motion he’s gone from his upside-down position to upright—standing before you. He reaches out and pulls you into a tight embrace. Holding you close and planting a tender kiss on your forehead. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/n. I love you so much. I promise to fully make it up to you,” he says in a loving tone. You shake your head lightly, “Peter, having you here is enough. You really don’t have to–” he doesn’t let you finish. “Maybe I don’t have to, but I want to. Let’s get you home and into some dry clothes. I’m staying with you tonight. I want to hold you all night and in the morning I’ll make you breakfast in bed,” he proposes in soft whispers as his forehead rests against yours. 

“You know I can’t say no to that.”

“Good. I wasn’t going to take no for an answer anyway.” 

Your laughter mixes with his own at his playful tone. He holds you more securely against him as he prepares to take you both back to your apartment. You weren’t keen on swinging across the sky like he was—especially in this weather—but knowing you would soon be cuddled under warm covers with him would make it all worth it. 

You would weather any storm for him, as he would for you—always.

[eevees-hobbies]

Watching Fireworks with Your Hashira Boyfriend

Content Warning: Fluff. Reference to intimacy with Gyomei but nothing major. Also, gender neutral.

Contains: Obana Iguroi, Kyojuro Rengoku, Tengen Uzui, Sanemi Shinazugawa, Gyomei Himejima & Giyu Tomioka

Obanai Iguro

Isn’t this the spot…? You find yourself questioning your conversation with Obanai as you look around for any sign of the Serpeant Hashira. You’re standing on the only small hill that overlooks the Hashira Estates; you both agreed to meet at this exact location to get a better view of the fireworks.

Blue and yellow dual-colored eyes look down at you, amusement hidden by the bandages wrapped around the lower half of his face. “When will you stop falling for this trick?” Obanai’s smooth voice travels from above you, and your head snaps up.

Fuck, when WILL I stop falling for this trick? 

“I knew you were there along! But hey…I thought we were watching the fireworks together?” 

“This angle is far superior,” he responds cooly, his gaze never leaving you.

You huff and look at the ground. Guess we aren’t sitting next to each other for the show. Your sulking session is interrupted as the ground disappears beneath your feet, and your nose is unexpectedly pressed against his uniform. For an instant, you feel like you're floating until Obanai sits you carefully on the thick branch that originally housed only him. Your brief disappointment in not having his arms wrapped around you quickly dissipates as the first firework launches into the sky, illuminating his face a dazzling yellow.

“You’re right. This is the far superior angle,” you smile and take his hand into yours. 

Kyojuro Rengoku

Kyojuro Rengoku is a pure romantic, so it’s no surprise that he approaches you first about the fireworks show before it even crosses your mind. 

“Y/N! You must accompany me on a date to see the fireworks!”

You enthusiastically agreed, but when you offered to bring snacks to share and enjoy while you watched, Kyojuro insisted that you should not worry about planning anything.  

You wait patiently at the agreed-upon location, but Kyojuro is nowhere to be found. Ten minutes pass before you see him heaving two large baskets in your direction and a large blanket under his arm. “Sorry, I’m late! Turns out packing a basket with copious amounts of food is its own skill!” He drops both baskets at your feet with a loud thud.

“Kyo! A picnic. I’m flattered, but you could have asked for help.” Kyojuro spreads the blanket out before you both and carefully unloads the baskets' contents. He’s brought all your favorites—sweet, fried, salty—and even has warm drinks in small thermos containers.  

“I did not want you to worry about anything, my flame! Please sit.” He pats the space next to him; you lower yourself onto the blanket and lean your head on his shoulder. “I love you,” you whisper as a cool chill makes you shudder. Not missing a beat, Kyojuro whips his Haori from his shoulders and transfers it to your own.

“Kyo, you’re perfect, you know that?”

He blushes but smiles at you nonetheless, “I’ve never thought of myself as that, but it pleases me that you see me that way! Now, what should we eat first and might I be so bold to ask you if I can feed you?”

Tengen Uzui

What’s flashier than fireworks? Only the God of Festivals himself! Tengen is fucking stoked for the firework show and lets you know that it’s his tradition to watch them every year, and while none of his wives like to attend, he’d enjoy it if you watched with him! 

Unfortunately, a Kasugai crow arrives two days before the light show, instructing Tengen to head North in search of a demon that is hunting children in a small fishing village. Duty calls, but of course, it’s a significant blow to your intended plans.

Tengen leaves on his mission but only after telling you that you should watch the fireworks anyway. Who knows, depending on where he is, you both might be watching at the same time, and that’s kind of exciting, too, right? 

So, on the night of the fireworks show, you perch yourself on a small wall and look up at the sky, your mind wandering and wondering what Tengen is doing at that exact moment. You shiver, a sudden presence envelopes you and pulls you into an embrace from behind. 

“Hey, beautiful. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” 

Your body melts into his chest as the first fireworks fly into the night sky. You don’t have to look back to see the joy that overtakes his features—you can just feel it.

Sanemi Shinazugawa

Does Sanemi enjoy fireworks? Not especially. He thinks they’re too loud and hates it when the air gets polluted with so much smoke it makes his eyes burn. Those may seem like silly reasons, but there’s also a more relevant explanation for his disdain, which has to do with demons. At one point, he fought a demon that was using the cover of fireworks to devour villagers; the loud pops and smokey environment created the perfect storm. 

Regardless of those reasons, he’d never tell you that he hates fireworks, and as he glimpses over at you, the pure joy written all over your features as a firework whizzes into the air and explodes into blue-like gems that cascade downward from the sky. He thinks that, in some instances, fireworks may be okay. 

Sanemi pulls you into his lap and rests his face in the nape of your neck. “Nemi!” you protest, “you’re going to miss the show.”

“Naw, I’m good like this.” He snakes his arms around you and allows himself to exist—and relax—in this moment with you.

Gyomei Himejima

“That one was beautiful, Gyomei.”

“Describe it to me.”

You search for the right words to describe the light show in front of you—you always thought you were decent with words until you met Gyomei who made it a habit of asking you to describe things that had always felt painfully ordinary. It wasn’t until you started to describe the world around you with vibrancy and depth that you began to appreciate the beauty of the world around you. 

"Well, those lights, in particular, were a bright orange and crimson color and…you know how when we wake up in the morning, you can feel the sun touching your face as it peeks in through the window; how the rays feel gentle, warm, and exactly like what you need to start your day on a good note? That’s what those colors feel and look like, to me.”

You blush, hoping your descriptions are enough to paint a picture for him. Gyomei doesn’t need you to describe things to him, especially with his enhanced senses, but your honeyed voice never ceases to stir something in him, so he makes you narrate—a lot.

Gyomei hums approvingly, “thank you, my sweet girl. But I hate to admit that when I wake up every morning, I no longer associate the sun with warmth. For me, you and your presence embody every bit of warmth I feel.” 

“Gyomei,” your voice dripping with warning. “Keep talking like that, and we’ll be cutting this show short.”

Gyomei chuckles, knowing that you’re half teasing and half threatening him—and while usually, he’d never turn down a heated romp with his beloved—he’s enjoying being here with you in a rare moment of respite from his Hashira duties. He takes your hand into his, rubbing his thumb gently against your palm. “My apologies. I’ll contain myself for now. Please, don’t stop. Keep describing them to me.”

Giyu Tomioka

“This is a date?” He says in his deadpan voice. You suck in a large amount of air, getting ready to verbally admonish him for being such a smart ass, but the corners of Giyu’s mouth twitch upward, “kidding.”

“You’re not even as remotely funny as you think you are, Tomioka.” You turn back to the night sky, which is littered with explosions. You feel your cheeks growing hot and your temper flaring, frustrated at Giyu’s inability to take something so meaningful seriously.

“Ouch, my last name. Like I said, I was only kidding.” You refuse to relent, your arms crossed over your chest. Giyu sighs loudly, “look at me, Y/N. Of course, this is a date. I…I’ve been thinking about this since you asked me to come with you and that was weeks ago. I’ve never felt so nervous and excited at the same time before.”

You turn to Giyu, your eyes shining brightly at his openness and confession. " Do you mean it?”

“Yes, now be quiet; I’m trying to watch the show.” And before you can huff, he leans back and lays his head on your lap.

“Do that thing I like, Y/N.”

You pull the tie from his hair and rake your fingers through his dark blue tresses. 

[aemondapologistfrfr]

His Princess - Pt7

fancast!bloody ben x targ!fem!reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Summary: The battle continues at Kings Landing as the dance begins in Harrenhal. When everything seems overwhelming there is a break on the horizon. Rhaenyra sends Y/n and Ben back to Harrenhal after they take Kings Landing to see the outcome. 

Warnings: 18+ battle/war, blades, blood, death, swearing, my version of the battle above gods eye(spoiler for the show bc it’s fr and it’s not cute) - mc but cannon death, beheading, alys spreading info like the gossip she is, after war and gossip oral(f receiving), fingering

Authors Note: hopefully the switching of the povs offers what I wanted it to!!!!, hate cole but i can’t deny he’s a good swordsman and would need at least two ppl to take him in a fight, i tried to keep gods eye minimal bc i can’t stand dragons fighting!!!, also daeron is not apart of this story bc i didn’t want another dragon to be hurt!

Word Count: 5.5k almost half of this is war

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Y/n Pov:

“Find him,” I sob to Vermithor and his growls shake the walls around the city as Silverwing and I give out an earth shattering cry as we circle the host raining fire upon the Greens. 

Vermithor gives out a bone chilling roar and sprays fire along the Gods gate. I’m turning my head searching for any sign of Ben as Silverwing follows close to Vermithor. I take notice of Vermithors wound but it’s more of just a scratch and the bleeding has already ceased much to my relief. My adrenaline rises to match my fear as my heart pounds wildly in my chest as we continue our search for Ben. 

Vermithor circles around where I last saw Ben and begins to fly down to the ground. He sprays the ground in dragon flame before he lands on the burning men as Silverwing lands us in the center of the fire next to him. The warmth licks at my armor as I watch the flames die around me. As the haze clears I see Ben cutting down men around him in a frenzy. 

I sob in relief as I see him still in one piece and quickly slide off of Silverwing. I slip the sword from my back and go to Ben’s side. My blade becomes an extension of myself as my body goes into a killing calm. Everything around me fades away as I face man after man. As I turn to my next victim I can see the burnt scorpion behind the host. 

Cole emerges from the ruins and bodies offering me a bloody smile. Our dragons step closer to me and bare their teeth. Their low growls and chuffs vibrate the ground beneath us. Ben turns to me and sees Cole walking over to me and quickly makes it to my side. 

“You need two dragons and a whores daughter to stand against me?” Cole laughs to Ben bitterly spitting.

“You will still die in the end.” I hum raising my sword.

“We shall see.” he charges forward with his blade in front of him and I quickly fold backwards to avoid his swing. 

Ben comes from behind and strikes with his sword and Cole barely avoids the metal. I rise once again and try to catch Cole from behind but he is quick on his feet. The three of us dance with our blades as the war continues to wage around us. My nerves start to rise as I see our host getting overwhelmed as both of our dragons are grounded with us for the moment. 

This moment of thought has costed me dearly. Pain washes through the side of my face as blood trickles down my neck as Coles sword slices my flesh. I give out a loud cry and Silverwing screams with me. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Harrenhal Pov:

The clouds hang low in the sky as the smell of rain on the horizon washes over the ruined castle. The sky is preparing to weep for the dance that will soon take place. Fog begins to roll in from the forest line casting everything in a gray light.  

“You will die here today.” Alys appears through the foggy gates walking to Daemon and Caraxes.

“As long as I take Aemond with me, I care not.” Daemon pulls his helm on and makes sure everything is secure.

“So eager to die before you meet your grandchild?” Alys tilts her head with a small smile.

“They’ll be better off without me.” he mounts Caraxes and shoots into the sky. 

Daemon has had enough of Alys’ mind games and doesn’t even bat an eye at the insinuation of having grandchildren. He never saw himself living long enough to see his children or wife contented. He knows this is the last thing he will be able to give them and he hopes it’s enough to change the tides of the war. 

Daemon circles around Harrenhal keeping his eyes peeled for Vhagar and her one eyed rider. He’s growing impatient but he can feel the promise of death in the air. Caraxes perches on one of the towers as they await their fate. A low grumble comes from the distance and Vhagar comes into view from the clouds. 

Daemon shoots into the sky and lures them away from the castle. He doesn’t much care for this castle but he knows many Lords will ask Rhaenyra for it so it must remain standing. He leads Aemond over the body of water called Gods Eye.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Y/n Pov:

As I rise to my feet Ben is relentlessly bashing his sword into Coles. The metal song promises death. I try to find an opening to help Ben once more but he has a glazed look over his eyes as he slams repeatedly into Cole. I watch on in shock as I’ve never seen Ben fight like this. Some of his men stop and watch on as this one on one continues. 

Our dragons grumble as some of Coles men stand and watch. It seems as if this part of the wall is on a pause as they wait to see what happens. I rip a piece of my shirt off from under my armor and wipe off the side of my face. The cut seems to start just under my eye and travels down to my jaw. The dirtied cloth stings but it helps staunch the blood. Ben lets out a mighty roar and swings his long sword and I gasp with widened eyes.

“Your Kingmaker.” Ben yells as he raises Coles head into the air. 

He dips down and grabs Coles foot and drags it to Vermithor who grabs his leg in his claws. He returns to me still gripping Coles head in his hands and I look to him as he’s breathing heavily. He turns my face and looks at my cut as his nostrils flare.

“I’m sorry.” he whispers as the men begin to look around unsure if we’re to keep fighting. “To Silverwing.” he nods his head and begins to usher me over before he goes to mount Vermithor. 

Vermithor and Silverwing shoot to the skies and give out victorious growls. I look down at Vermithors claws as Coles headless body is being paraded through the air. He slides low to the Green host and they falter as they take on the body hanging above them. 

“Your Kingmaker is dead and your King dies at Harrenhal.” Ben proclaims as we fly along the walls. 

A loud grumble comes from the clouds and my heart stops as I see a large shadow approaching. As the dragon comes into view I squint my eyes trying to figure out who it is. It’s not Vhagar or any other I’ve ever seen. Silverwing chirps and flies to meet the new dragon. I shake my head thinking I must be delusional from blood loss as I spot Rhaena atop this dragon. 

“I figured I would help in the war!” Rhaena calls out as her dragon gives out a fierce cry and I look below as a sob rips through me as I see a grand host from the Vale and the North seeping through the tree lines running to meet the Greens host.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Harrenhal Pov:

Caraxes and Vhagar circle each other around the body of water and give out low grumbles. The sky begins to cry as the dragons close in on one another. The Blood Wyrm quickly twists around the old fossil as she barely turns in time for the first snap of teeth. Vhagar gives out a loud cry as Caraxes sinks his teeth into her neck. 

Vhagar pulls away from Caraxes and breathes fire upon him and Daemon. Daemon flies through the flame and straight for Vhagars rider. Aemond dips, narrowly avoiding Caraxes maw. They pull back from one another and the dragons circle above the water once more.

“You have lived long enough,” Aemond calls across the skies to Daemon. 

“Something we agree upon,” Daemon chuckles as he begins to unclip from Caraxes. 

The world seems to hold its breath as Daemon unsheathes Dark Sister and points to Aemond and Vhagar. Caraxes flies quick and hard latching onto Vhagar. Daemon jumps from his dragon to Aemond landing on Vhagars head. He sprints down on uneven feet as Aemond struggles to get his weapon or unclip from his saddle. 

“For my Queen,” Daemon roars as he pierces Dark Sisters through Aemonds one eye before everything goes black.

The dragon’s give out a cry and spiral down to the water. The impact could be felt well over a hundred miles. Blood rain falls from the sky as the false King and the Rogue Prince implode to their watery grave. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

3rd person Rhaenyra Pov: 

Addam has been sent to recruit the small folk and hand out armor and weapons for those willing and able. Rhaenyra has slipped into the castle through the tunnels and has made quick work of finding her loyalists. She makes it to the throne room and lets out a breathy laugh. Alicent and Helaena are brought in and kneel before her. 

“Rhaenyra please,” Alicent pleads from her knees as Rhaenyra holds a blade to her throat. 

“You brought this upon yourself.” she looks down to Alicent with contempt. 

“The Kings are dead.” Helaena speaks softly from her place next to Alicent. 

“Which ones?” Rhaenyra turns her head to Helaena lowering the blade from Alicents throat. 

“All of them.” Helaena shakes her head and Rhaenyras blade falls out of her hand. 

“Ring the bells to let-“ 

“Your Grace, another dragon and a host.” Addam bursts through the throne room doors breathing heavily.

“Who?” Rhaenyra looks at him confused. 

“They say Rhaena with a host from the Vale and North.” Addam takes in the scene before him. 

“She’s done it.” Rhaenyra smiles breathing out a sigh of triumph and relief.

“They also say that Ben and Vermithor are flying around Coles headless body above the host. He carries his head on his back.” Alicent lets out a soft sob at his words. 

“Your son’s are dead. Your Kingmaker has been beheaded. You are surrounded. Ring the bells and save your remaining men.” Rhaenyra looks down to Alicent. 

“The common folk will remember this destruction.” Alicent narrows her eyes at Rhaenyra. 

“They fight your host from within the walls. You have lost.” Rhaenyra tugs Alicent up harshly and begins to bring her to the bell tower. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Y/n Pov: 

My head cranes to the city as the bells begin to toll. All of the dragons surround the city and  give out one last cry before they start to the Keep. As we look down the fighting is slowing and swords are being lowered. I’m in awe as we fly through the city at the amount of small folk that are pushing the Greens out of the gates. 

Baela and Jace come into view and tears start sliding down my face as I see them unscathed and safe. Rhaena comes from behind the Keep with Addam trailing close behind her. Our dragons follow Syraxs call and we land perched on the main gates. 

We all dismount and make it down to the main courtyard. We all look to each other and my siblings take in mine and Ben’s appearance. Their eyebrows furrow as they see my cut and look to our blood and dirt covered bodies. I turn to Ben and see Cole’s head bouncing against his back as he approaches me. Vermithor lets out a low growl and flings Cole’s body to the center of the yard. 

“I see burning people wasn’t enough for you both.” Jaces voice drowns out as me and Ben look to each other. 

“Let’s find a witch to bring him back. I want to kill him slower.” his voice rough as he tilts my chin to look at my cut. 

“I’m okay.” I look up to him taking in the death that remains in his eyes. 

“We will find you a maester at once.” he pulls me with him into the castle. 

“Where are you two going?” Baela yells after us. 

I tug him to the throne room thankful he doesn’t know where the maesters chambers are. I must see my mother. I need to know who rang those bells and what it means. As the doors groan under my hands I behold my mother atop the throne with her crown on her brow. 

“Daughter,” Rhaenyra rises taking in my state. “My children,” her voice wavers as the rest of my siblings trail in behind me and Ben. 

“My Queen,” I bow. 

“Call for a maester,” Rhaenyra flicks her head to Jace and he’s out in the hall shouting in seconds. 

I huff as he brings in a maester who sits me on a chair and begins to clean my wound. Ben holds my hand as the maester beings to stitch up my cheek. Rhaenyra is lowly talking to my siblings about how their plans went and she finally turns to me and Ben. 

“I wish to see the head.” Rhaenyras voice travels through the hall. 

“The rest of him is in the courtyard.” Ben rises from my side and pulls the head from his back. He offers her the head holding it by his hair. 

“You’ve done me a great service, Benjicot.” she shakes her head at a loss for words. “What happened to your cheek?” Rhaenyra turns her attention to me. 

“Cole.” I say trying to steady my breathing as the maester pulls the thread in and out of my flesh for his last stitch.

“You fool,” she shakes her head before she leans down and engulfs me in a hug before she turns back to the group of us.

“We’ve done it, gather the remaining Lords so we may start about clearing out the traitors and moving forward.” she turns and nods her head to us. “Ben, Y/n,” she stops us before we exit.

“Yes?” we turn back to her. 

“I have one more immeasurable favor to ask of you both.” she whispers down to us. 

“Say it and it will be done.” I look to her with tired eyes but ready to do what she needs. 

“Go to Harrenhal and see what remains.” her voice barely a murmur as her eyes begin to tear. 

“We will go at once,” I nod my head. 

She walks out of the Keep with us as we take in the dragons and the wall crumbling under their claws. Her head snaps to the rest of Coles body that remains in the center of the courtyard. From beyond the gates we hear shouts and cries of agony from the people who were not as lucky. 

“Fly safe and stay together.” she pulls me and Ben into a tight hug. “Please return to me.” her voice a whisper as she looks to both of us. 

Ben turns to me and we finally have a moment alone to ourselves. I look into his eyes and he seems to be coming down from his adrenaline still. I wrap my arms around him and he holds me tightly against him. I care not of our blood and dirt and pull his lips to mine feverishly.

“I want you to fly with me and Vermithor,” he looks down to me separating our lips. 

“Ben, I’m fine,” I sigh looking up to him.

“I know, but I just want you by me.” his hold on me tightens.

“Then ask Silverwing,” I relent and he pulls away to turn to my dragon as I walk to his.

“You flew valiantly today, my beautiful Silverwing. Will you allow Y/n to fly with me and Vermithor on our next journey?” I turn from Verithors neck and see Silverwing nudge into Ben before he starts towards me.

“Up you go.” he softly tugs me towards his wings and I begin my climb. We quickly settle and take flight. Silverwing flies next to us and they both give out a victorious song to the men below before we coast out on the horizon.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

As we enter the Riverlands we can feel the great loss in the air. The clouds weep, cleaning off some of our blood and dirt as we make our way to the ruined castle. Our dragons give out low grumbles as we approach Harrenhal and begin to make our descent outside the main gates. 

Ben helps me off refusing to let me do anything on my own. He has a hand pressed against me at all times and grabs my hand for his own once we make it the ground. The heaviness in the air is unsettling while the wind sings an eerie song. 

The castle grounds are silent. We saw no dragons on approach and hear nothing as we look around for any sign of a threat. As we turn my heart goes to my throat as Alys appears. 

“Where are they?” I ask pulling the bone knife from its sheath and pointing it at her. 

“I would think you wouldn’t be so quick to show your child more death and violence. Though, you are your father’s child..” she trails off with a smile. 

“My child?” my eyebrows furrow as I raise the knife even higher. 

“The one you’ve been carrying for a moon now.” she nods to me and looks to Ben. I bring my free hand to my abdomen and try to think of any signs that her words are true. “I may have played mind games with your father but I can’t slip through your bond with the child’s father. He’s very protective.” she chuckles to Ben who is now trying to push me behind him. 

“Where is my father?” my voice wavers as my mind already knows the answer. 

“You’ll find him under the Gods Eye.” her skirts swish as she disappears behind the walls once more. 

“Stay with the dragons and I will go.” he looks down to me intensely. 

“You will not start with this overprotective male dominance now.” I huff as I try to walk past him but he grabs my arm to stop me. 

“Y/n,” he looks to me with pleading eyes as his hand travels to my lower abdomen. 

“After I find my father,” I shake my head and pull him along with me. 

We walk silently to the body of water just beyond the crumbling fortress. Our dragons follow behind us the ground shaking at their heavy steps. As we approach my breath catches taking in the blood splattered around the shores. 

Pieces of the once great dragons are jutting through the surface of the water. I can tell it’s both dragons by their coloring and a sob bubbles out of my mouth. My hand slips from Ben’s as I fall to my knees on the shore looking on at the still water. He kneels next to me and hugs me tightly. 

“I have to go find him.” I shake my head as tears begin to slip down my cheeks. 

I rise and start to walk into the once clear water that seems to now be stained a blush pink. Water licks at my thighs until I begin to start my swim. I swim around the masses in the water until I spot Caraxes. As I dip my head under the water to look for him my stitched cut screams in agony. 

I pull up for breath and begin to move around to see if I can find him anywhere else. I’ve been searching around Caraxes and have found nothing so I relent and begin my search around Vhagar. Ben shouts at me from the shore but I can’t abandon this search. 

As I dip down under the surface again my eyes blurry I spot Aemond in Vhagars saddle. I slip above the water to take in a deep breath before I dive down. My eyes bulge as I take in Dark Sister pierced through his remaining eye. I quickly scan the area and my remaining air bubbles out of my mouth as I see Daemon resting on the rocky bottom. I swim to the top and let out a loud sob. 

“Ben, I need you,” I cry and he’s running into the water and at my side in seconds. 

We swim below the surface and I rip Dark Sister from Aemonds head as Ben begins to lift and pull Daemons body to the surface. I grab on and help him carry him to shore. As we finally make it to the sands I sit silently looking down at his blade. 

“I-“ I shake my head as tears begin falling down my face. 

I let out a grief stricken scream and Silverwing quickly approaches the shores and curls near me. Ben holds me to him as my sobs continue to wreck me. My breathing finally settles and he looks up to me with sad eyes while wiping them away with his thumbs. 

“We need to prepare his body to bring back home.” I sniffle before getting to my feet.

“I’ll go see if there’s a maester or someone,” Ben rises wiping the sand off of him. 

“I told him he would die here.” Alys comes from the other side of the shore. 

“Are you just here to mock me and speak in riddles?” I yell exasperated. 

“I’ve brought this for your cheek. It’ll heal it better than those stitches.” she offers me a cup and I look at the foul smelling paste. “I’m also the only maester, if that’s what you want to call me, and I can prepare his body for your travels.” she offers and I cant tell if she’s sincere or not so I turn to Ben hoping he will deal with this situation for me. 

“What is this paste?” he grabs the cup from my hands. 

“Your dragons wouldn’t allow me to poison the mother of your child. Use it or don’t.” she chuckles turning her head to look at our dragons. 

“I want his body treated with respect. Bound and wrapped tastefully befitting a King. All of his armor is to be cleaned and properly packed so we may travel with ease. We will take our old chambers while you finish your work.” Ben pulls me to his side as we begin to walk to the castle once more. 

Our feet drag up the stairs as we stop in front of familiar doors. Ben pushes them open and escorts me to a chair to sit down. I place Dark Sister next to me and let out a shaky sigh. He kneels in front of me and locks his eyes with mine. 

“I’m sorry,” his words soft as he places the cup with the paste next to me and grabs my hands. 

“I had hoped he would make it.” tears still slide down my cheeks as he pulls me down into a hug.

“It seems as if Alys made you a bath. Let me clean you and help you relax.” he hums standing with me. 

He walks me to the bath and begins to remove my stained armor. I peel off my clothes as he starts to take off his armor. When he removes his shirt I can see small cuts littering his skin and I look at him with sad but thankful eyes that he’s still with me. He helps me slide into the bath and takes a seat next to me. 

The warm water lulls my muscles and I lean back resting my head on the lip of the small pool. I feel the water shift and he starts to undo my braids releasing their tension. I sigh in relief and allow my eyes to drift shut. He brings a cloth and soap to begin wiping my skin as I relax further into the water. 

“Do you want to try her paste?” his voice soft as I crack an eye open. 

“Sure, if anything bad happens Silverwing will eat her.” I shrug as he rises out of the bath. 

“I will kill her myself if she causes harm to you.” his voice trails to me from the couch before he returns. 

He applies a generous amount of paste to his fingers and brings his free hand to my jaw to tilt my head. I look up to him expectantly as he lowers his fingers to my cheek. I wince as the cold paste slides down my face and a shiver travels my spine as I feel the wound dispelling the stitches and doing its own work. 

“It’s healed.” his words almost a question as he tilts my head. He brings his hand up and shows me the black thread that was once holding my cheek. “That means she wasn’t lying.” his hand slides from my chin and he places it on my stomach. 

“Ben,” his name falls from my mouth as I allow myself to finally think about Alys’ words and the life growing inside me. 

“The mother of my children, my Princess, my wife.” his words filled with devotion as his lips softly press against mine. 

I let his lips wash away the day and all that’s come with it. His hand resting on my lower abdomen slides a little lower and I moan into his mouth as he circles my clit. His lips kiss down my now healed cheek and licks around my pulse. 

“I can’t wait to see you growing with our child.” he whispers in my ear as he dips his fingers into my core. “You’re gunna be even more beautiful.” I rest my head on his shoulder as my hips grind into his hand as my pleasure is already washing through me from my heightened emotions.

“Come let’s get you into bed while I find you some clothes. I’m sure we’ve left some behind.” he helps me out of the tub and walks me over to the bed always keeping a hand placed on me. 

“Ben I’m not going to break, I just fought alongside you in a war.” I huff but still allowing him to pull the covers over my body. 

“Do not remind me.” his rage seeps off of him. 

“Don’t work yourself up again.” I roll my eyes chuckling. “Come to bed, let’s forget today for a little while.” I pout my lips trying to pull him in with me. 

“I must find you clothes and food and a drink. Is there anything else?” he rambles as he begins walking to the doors. 

“Maybe some clothes for yourself? I know Harrenhal is empty but I don’t think the ghosts want you walking around nude.” I shake my head smiling. 

He pulls open the wardrobe and quickly slides on some pants and continues to rifle through what we’ve left. He pulls out wrinkled shirt next and shrugs before putting it on. He finds the shortest slip that’s been made in all of the seven kingdoms apparently and tosses it to me on the bed. 

“Now you have clothes.” he nods to himself before slipping out the door. I sigh and slip the piece of fabric on nonetheless. I pull the blankets closer and allow my eyes to rest while he’s off on his hunt. 

“I found some meat and cake and that’s about it.” Ben pushes the doors open jolting me awake. “And water. I’ve also spoken with Alys.” I stretch out wiping my eyes. 

“Pray tell what more Alys had to say.” I sigh as I hold my hands out expectantly for my water. 

“Just that she’ll have everything prepared for us by the morning. I’ve sent a raven to  Rhaenrya telling her that we will return tomorrow.” he hands me my glass of water and sits on the bed next to me with the tray of food. 

“You didn’t deliver the news of Daemon in that letter, did you?” I pull the cup from my lips. 

“No, she needs to see for herself.” he shakes his head. He starts to cut up the meat on the tray and goes to feed it to me. 

“Benjicot Blackwood,” I scold. “What happened to the man who made me and Silverwing hunt for him and his dragon?” I raise my eyebrows as a smile plays on my lips. 

“Shh, I’ll be the man now.” he tries to hide his smile as I accept the meat from the fork. 

“Then that means no more jumping off of Vermithor into the middle of a war.” I narrow my eyes at him as I accept another mouthful. 

“I was wondering when you would yell at me about that.” he says sheepishly. 

“I was so fucking scared. I thought my heart was going to stop. Never do that again.” I furrow my brows. “You did look incredibly fierce doing it though.” I whisper and his eyes snap to mine. 

“Fierce, hm?” he smiles down to me. 

“And fucking stupid.” I push him back as he chuckles. 

“Well let’s hope our child takes after you.” his smile is soft as he sits up. 

“Do you wish for a boy or a girl?” I hum as he starts to feed me cake. 

“I care not.” his smile widens. 

“I hope for a girl, so I think we’ll have a boy.” I chuckle accepting more of the sweet dessert. 

“Then we’ll have as many until we get a girl.” he discards the tray on the ground to bring his full attention to me. 

“We shall see what the Gods grant us.” I hum pulling him into a kiss. “Did you not bring any food for yourself?” I pull back looking to him. 

“I ate as your food was being prepared. I wanted to have a different kind of dessert.” his eyes darken and he crawls over me kissing me once more. 

My thighs spread as he settles between them. He licks and kisses down my neck before circling his tongue over my covered nipples. I whine as he scrapes his teeth around them before snaking his way lower. He places featherlight kisses down my slit as I sigh, bucking my hips to his face. 

His tongue juts out and offers small licks to my sensitive bud as I softly pant above him. His lips encase me while his tongue lashes against me quickly. My hand goes to his hair as I grind against his mouth and chase my pleasure. His other hand interlocks with my free hand as he continues with his tongue. 

“Ben, fuck,” I cry as I arch off the bed. 

He licks down my center and pushes his tongue into me as I gasp trying to catch my breath. He brings his other hand to circle along my bud as his tongue laps at my wetness. I explode across his face and he continues licking to clean me off. I sigh as my body melts into the bed as he comes to lay at my side. 

“What of you?” I say my eyes barely open as I go to reach for his length. 

“I’m okay, my love. Rest.” he grabs my hand and kisses my forehead as I curl into him allowing my mind to forget all of the bad today and only think of the good. 

We’ve taken Kings Landing. My mother sits the throne. My cheek is healed. I have a life growing inside me. I have a man who is absolutely devoted to me at my side awaiting the day we can marry and I can’t wait to marry him. I drift off contented listening to his heartbeat. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

masterlist 🔌 

Part 8

ik i said 3 more parts 2 parts ago which means only one more after this but that’s just not enough?? and now i want to write abt them being happy and married and with kids wtfff are ppl down for that or do i do a spin off series??? like lmk bc i want more than just an epilogue and a glimpse like no i want to see this man waiting on you hand and foot and being absolutely OBSESSED with you pregnant with his child 

taglist ✍️ 

@clarityisnofun @gabriella-aesthetic @callsignwidow @llynx7 @anaviieiraaa @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @zanygot7straykidsbonk

if I missed anyone lmk!

[simpingforstardew]

lone star

pairing: sdv shane x reader

synopsis: stargazing w/ shane. this fic takes place ‘post-game’ (i.e., after the farmer receives the ‘key to the town’, and after shane begins therapy’). friends to lovers enjoyers rise up !!

warnings: angst, with comfort and fluff; descriptions of poor mental health, depression etc. stay safe. ♡

(this is crossposted from ao3).

word count: 1.9k

In the calm of the valley, the night sky stretches out in a breathtaking display: the stars shine proudly, their brilliance undimmed by city lights. Despite moving to Pelican Town four years ago, you're still awestruck by the vastness of the cosmos visible to the naked eye— a sight that would have been obscured by the city smog in Zuzu. Back there, spotting a single star was a rare blessing; seeing one that was not, in fact, just the mistaken dim glow of a passing helicopter was an even greater rarity.

Nestling your head into the sturdy hay bale beneath you, you inhale the earthy scent of dried grass mingling with the crisp night air. Above, the canopy of stars twinkles in a mesmerising dance, each constellation a story waiting to be told. Your gaze flits between the shimmering points of light, tracing the familiar patterns of the night sky.

Beside you, your loyal companion snores softly, a comforting rhythm that grounds you in the present moment. Absentmindedly, you stroke the sleeping dog's fur, feeling the warmth of their body against your fingertips. The bottles of pumpkin juice you had meticulously prepared lay forgotten on the ground, their contents untouched. Your large blanket, meant to shield you from the nocturnal chill, sits idle at your feet.

Despite the breathtaking beauty of the scene before you, a pang of guilt tugs at your heart. It feels almost selfish, you think, to bask in such a gorgeous view alone.

Without hesitation, you rise from your spot beside the barn, stretching your tight shoulders with a huff before swiftly leaping over the hardwood fence. Only one other person in town would be awake at this late hour, and you knew exactly where you would find him. You took a deep breath of the crisp air before making your way down the dirt road towards Cindersap Forest.

“Oh, sure– just let yourself in, I guess,” Shane’s gruff voice murmurs from the kitchen, “I can’t believe Lewis lets you keep that ‘Key to the Town’, fuckin’ bullshit.”

You lean against the door frame, a smirk tugging on your lips as Shane pulls out a steaming bowl of ‘JojaBrand™ Meal for One®: Pepper Poppers’ from the microwave. "Shh, you know you secretly enjoy my surprise visits, Shane," you tease, "Besides, I came over to ask you something."

“Well, are you gonna spit it out, toots, or do you plan on waking up the whole house for this announcement?” Shane grumbles, searching for a clean fork. Years ago, you found his standoffish demeanour frustrating– unfortunately for him, however, it only fuelled your desire to develop a relationship with him; to break down those walls he built up.

“I was gonna ask if you wanted to stargaze with me,” you smile, a genuine toothy grin. “It’s a nice night for it.”

Shane’s eyebrows shoot up momentarily as he hesitates, glancing towards you, “You seriously came over just to ask me that?”

“You don’t have to join me if you don’t want to,” you reply, chuckling softly as you push off the door frame and turn to leave, “Just figured we hadn’t caught up in a while.”

You hear a groan coming from behind you, followed by the clattering of a bowl being discarded on the kitchen counter. He had always had a soft spot for you.

“Yeah, yeah,” Shane sighs, “Lemme grab my jacket.”

The night air is crisp as you and Shane traverse the farm. The distant sound of crickets chirping provides a soothing backdrop to the quiet countryside, interrupted only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. Shane walks behind you, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his well-worn jacket; his posture stiff and guarded as always.

As you reach your spot by the barn, you unfurl the blanket and settle against the hay, gazing up at the expanse of stars above.

"So, how've you been, buddy?" you offer Shane a bottle of pumpkin juice, noting the tension in his shoulders. "Feels like I haven't seen much of you lately."

Despite Shane's usual standoffish demeanour, there is a subtle shift in his presence as he lowers himself onto the blanket beside you and grabs the juice. His shoulders relax ever so slightly, and for the first time in a long while, there is a hint of vulnerability in his gaze as he turns his attention skyward.

“I’ve been… I don’t know. Good.” Shane's voice trails off as shifts his gaze to the bottle in his hand, his shoulders slouched while his words hang heavy in the air. He drops his head against the rough surface of the hay bale behind him.

Glancing towards him, you note the furrow in his brow and the tension in his shoulders; his strong features illuminated by the moonlight. You resist the urge to press him further, allowing a comfortable silence to settle between you.

Lost in contemplation, you find solace in the vastness above.

After what felt like an eternity, Shane spoke up once more: his voice barely above a whisper.

"Any time I go shopping, like at Pierre’s or when I used to restock the shit they sold at JojaMart, I’d always feel like I’m in the way, y’know?” Shane confesses, his gaze fixed on the black velvet of the night sky. “As if someone is gonna be blocked off by me. And I know it’s not just 'cause I'm a big guy, doll, because then I leave the shop and realise that I still feel like I’m in the way.”

“Do you feel like that now?” you probe, allowing your gaze to drift towards him.

“Kinda, yeah. I always feel like that, I guess,” Shane admits, his voice tinged with resignation. He takes a swig of his juice. “Like I’m some kind of… rock stuck in a stream, with everybody else on planet Earth barging ahead around me—or some other flowery metaphor Elliot’d come up with, I don’t fucking know.”

“Is therapy helping with that feeling? Seems to me like you’re really making progress, if that means anything.” you reply, too enamoured with the contours of his side profile to notice the way his pinky finger locks with yours on the plush blanket. A promise of vulnerability.

“Sorta, but there's a pressure there as well, y’know? Gotta be happy all the time now, otherwise what was it all for? I don't even have a job anymore, I just... I’m just worried that…” Shane pauses, his fingers absentmindedly plucking at the hay behind him, “…Ah, forget it.”

“Worried that what?” You turn to face him, the spectacle of the cosmos long-forgotten.

“It's just that… what if my addiction; shitty personality; tendency to lie about the most basic crap to see people’s reaction; awful sense of humour; impulse to fall in love with someone if they’re nice to me; horrid fashion sense; inability to take a photo of myself smiling: all that crap… are all irrefutable? What if I was doomed to—”

“Shane, don’t—”

“I’ve tried… I’ve tried so hard every day of my life, (Y/n).” Shane's voice cracks, “I just… don’t wanna be a screw-up anymore.”

"Shane, you are not a screw-up," you demur, reaching out a hand to stroke his soft bicep, "You're just… human. You've already taken huge steps by just acknowledging your screw-up-ness and reaching out for help. And yeah, you have been trying, every single day. That's bravery, Shane. That's strength! I'm tired of you being the only one who doesn't see that."

The following silence is only interrupted by the distant chirping of crickets. Shane's eyes wearily scan your face for some kind of tell, as if your response was an inauthentic prank meant to lull him into a false sense of security. The bags under his eyes are shadowed and heavy. Your heart swells. “Repeat after me—”

“(Y/n), please—” pleads Shane.

“Mister Shane Andrew Miller, repeat after me!”

“Yes, Ma'am,” He chuckles, wiping away a stray tear.

“I, Shane, am a strong, brave, and amazing person; and I am going to be okay.”

“I’m a strong, brave, amazing person… and I'm gonna be okay.”

“Louder!”

“I'm gonna be okay!” He shouts— hands cupped around his mouth to bellow into the sleeping farm. After a nervous chuckle, Shane resigns to a slouch as he looks towards you with a blush warming his cheeks.

“Feel a little better?”

“I feel like a jack-ass,” Shane mumbles,“But yeah, a little.”

“Good,” you reach your hand out to caress his cheek, your thumb tracing patterns in his stubble when he leans into the touch, “and you only looked a little like a jack-ass.”

“Fuck off,” Shane laughs, the banter bringing a familiar light to his eyes, as he shoves your hand away playfully.

You both stay like that for a moment after the laughter dies down, embraced by the warmth of each other's silent company— one of you occasionally turning to retell the latest town gossip, or reference an inside joke neither of you can remember the origins of.

“I should, uh, be heading back now,” Shane moves to stand up, groaning as he stretches his legs, “Penny's taking the kiddo to the community centre tomorrow for some arts and crafts, and I gotta be up early to pack her lunch.”

You look up at his looming form, only now realising how long you had both been out here for.

“Of course, no worries,” you clumsily rise to your feet as your lips quiver with a tentative grin, a delicate curve that hovers on the precipice of expression. “Um, tell Jas I say ‘Hi’, okay?”

“Sure thing,” Shane replies, the awkwardness palpable, “Night, (Y/n),”

“Goodnight,” you raise your hand in a half-hearted wave as you watch his slouching figure turn to leave.

He makes it a couple steps, barely out of reach, before a surge of courage propels you forward. Reaching out to grasp the sleeve of Shane’s frayed hoodie before doubt can inhibit your impulsion, you pull him towards you.

Your lips crash on his in a rush of fervent emotion. One of Shane’s calloused hands instinctively rises to the nape of your neck; the other wraps around your waist as he pulls you closer, desperately. Bodies flush against each other as his fingers tangle in your hair.

A tingling sensation runs through your body. You reach up to gently cup his face as he deepened the kiss, his trembling lips continue moving against yours with a gentle urgency. In this moment, nothing else matters - no worries or fears, no past or future, no moon or stars.

Your heart races as you both pull away.

“To be clear, if this is, like, a pity thing or whatever,” Shane mumbles, his lips tickling your own as he attempts to catch his breath. “That’s um– that’s fine by me, I don’t… I wasn’t expecting this.”

“No that wasn’t… um,” You rest your forehead on his, closing your eyes as you attempt to calm your frantically beating heart, “I just… wanted to kiss you.”

Shane laughs as he brings both hands to your face, cupping your cheeks as he kisses you once more. This was different, however: gentle, soft, yet just as vulnerable. You look up at him, eye’s shining with the light from the stars, as you admire the softness of his usually stern features.

“You were right, this was a nice night to stargaze.”

[settingmyheartablaze]

not even close - t. inumaki x reader

———————————————————————————

The sunrise was beginning to turn the sky from its slumbering ebony to a soft pink, and the chilly spring air whisked through the blossoms that fluttered beneath it.

Standing on a street corner was a slowly accumulating huddle of the Tokyo as well as Kyoto’s students, who had been dual-assigned to a particularly nasty bunch of curses. The schools had decided it was a good idea to begin intermingling the two in hopes of fostering more collaboration and teamwork. While a few of them had been less than thrilled at the proposal, it seemed others had found it to be a stroke of luck.

“I think I should make my move,” Todo said in utter infatuation as he stood beside Panda and Maki at the corner, watching your legs idly swing off the bench you were perched on.

You were sat a few feet away with Nobara and Itadori stood directly in front of you, chatting your ear off rather animatedly for so early in the morning. Maki followed his eyes to your figure, who smiled warmly at your friends with eyes still puffed from sleep as the two carried on.

Glancing back at Todo with a smirk, she scoffed.

“Good luck getting her attention.”

Panda giggled in agreement, and Todo cocked his head in confusion. He let out a haughty laugh. “I think I know how to get a girl’s attention, especially when the competition is those two dopes.”

Maki’s brow raised slyly, and then it seemed something behind Todo’s shoulder caught her attention. “Those dopes aren’t the ones you need to worry about.”

Todo frowned in confusion, glancing back over at you. In fact, the closer he looked, he’d say that despite your polite smile and responses, you didn’t seem particularly focused on the two in front of you. It might have just been the lasting sleepiness, but it almost seemed as if you were glancing about, looking for something else — or someone.

Todo looked back to Maki and Panda. “What do you mean—”

He turned at the sound of footsteps behind him, and Inumaki strolled up leisurely, rubbing sleep from the eyes peeking up just above his coat with a grumble. His usual smooth hair was a tousled mess, and he looked about one shove away from crashing down on the sidewalk. He held what looked to be a warm cup of coffee steaming up from his hands, but if he’d had any of it, it didn’t seem to help one bit. It was a pretty amusing sight, and Todo snickered at seeing him in such a vulnerable state.

As he approached the three of them, Inumaki tossed Maki a small bag that she eagerly snatched up with hungry eyes. Peeking into the bag with satisfaction, she jerked her thumb back over her shoulder. ‘She’s over there.”

“What’s that?” Panda asked.

Maki licked her lips, pulling a fresh muffin from the bag. “Payment for my services.”

Todo watched, dumbfounded as Inumaki made his way towards your group.

The moment you’d caught him approaching in your peripheral, you turned sharply and a blush flooded your cheeks. You did a horrible job at hiding the smile now blooming on your face, and it was so bright Todo thought he was about to be blinded.

“Toge, there you are!” You chirped happily.

Amidst the flurry of mumbled greetings he received from the group, Inumaki paid nobody else any mind, heading straight for the spot beside you on the bench and plopping down, silently handing you the cup in his hand.

Todo didn’t think your cheeks could have pinked any more, but it seemed he was wrong.

“What? For me?” You asked softly.

The boy beside you grunted out something reminiscent of ‘salmon’ before his head hit your shoulder. His eyes closed right away, and you smiled warmly with eyes wide in suprise.

“This is my favorite shop! How’d you know?” You took a sip and your legs stomped softly on the ground in excitement.

Inumaki waved a hand haphazardly, too tired and far too comfortable (and maybe just a bit too shy) to reach for his phone and reveal his informant.

Todo watched in complete and utter defeat as you slowly coaxed Inumaki to awaken with your gentle voice while you all awaited the rest of your classmates, insisting he share the drink with you as he quietly listened to you chatter. His soft gaze didn’t once leave yours, completely enraptured by you and the rather strange dream you were recounting from the night prior.

“And then you told Gojo-sensei to shit himse — Oh, that reminds me.” Your amused recount paused, and your hand reached in your pocket to pull out a small bottle of throat medicine. “You forgot this in my room.”

Todo’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “How long have they been going out?” He whined.

Maki rolled her eyes as if she’d been asked that question a thousand times. “Wouldn’t we all like to know?” Her voiced was laced with irritation and a mouthful of muffin. “They think they’re just friends.”

Watching at the way you two looked at each other, Todo was baffled. You two weren’t friends — not even close.

[the-winter-spider]

Timeless | B.Barnes

Word Count: 7.7k

Warnings: None

A/N: I was listening to Timeless By Taylor Swift and was clearly inspired.

Masterlist

——

2024

The night sky was ablaze with flashes of light and the crackle of energy blasts as you and the Avengers fought your way through the remnants of a fortified enemy base. The mission had been straightforward—take down a group of rogue mercenaries who had been experimenting with dangerous, uncharted technology. But like most things in your line of work, nothing stayed straightforward for long.

You dodged a barrage of gunfire, returning fire with precision, while Steve and Bucky fought side by side, taking down enemies with practiced ease. Natasha was up ahead, taking out a sniper nest, while Tony soared above, providing aerial support with his repulsors. You could feel the heat of the battle on your skin, your senses heightened by adrenaline.

“Stay sharp, everyone!” Steve’s voice crackled through your earpiece. “Something’s not right about these guys.”

You didn’t need him to tell you twice. There was an eerie, unnatural energy surrounding the mercenaries. They were moving too fast, their reflexes too sharp for ordinary humans. And then you saw it—a strange device in the center of the base, pulsating with a sickly yellow glow.

“Tony, what the hell is that?” you called out, your eyes fixed on the device.

“Not sure, but it’s giving off some seriously weird readings,” Tony responded, his suit’s HUD lighting up with unfamiliar data.

Before you could react, one of the mercenaries—his eyes glowing with the same yellow hue—turned his attention toward you. He raised his hand, and suddenly, you felt a force tugging at you, pulling you off balance. The ground beneath your feet seemed to shift and warp.

“Y/N, get out of there!” Bucky shouted, his voice desperate sprinting toward you, but it was too late.

The world around you exploded in a kaleidoscope of colours as the force yanked you from your place in reality. Your vision blurred, and your body felt like it was being stretched and compressed at the same time. You could hear the panicked shouts of your teammates growing distant as you were sucked into a swirling vortex of light and sound.

“Bucky!” you cried out, reaching for him, but your hand grasped nothing but air.

And then, everything went black.

1930s

You landed on your feet with a thud, slightly stumbling back into a large tree.

“Y/N? What the hell are you doing? And what are you wearing?” Peggy Carter scowled at you.

Your mouth fell open. This wasn’t just another time—this was a different universe. You could feel it in the air, something distinctly off. The timeline wasn’t your own.

Peggy grabbed your hand, her grip firm. “I hope you had enough time alone because you’re going to be late!” she scolded, pulling you along. She was dressed in a stunning pink gown, her hair styled perfectly, as always. Peggy was gorgeous, no matter the universe.

“Late for what?” you asked, allowing her to drag you along. You knew you could trust Peggy, even in a world that wasn’t your own. You had to play along, to avoid disrupting whatever timeline you’d landed in.

She spun around to face you, her hands on your shoulders as she inspected you. “What are you doing, Pegs?” you asked, the nickname slipping out naturally, even though it felt foreign on your tongue. You hadn’t called her that in seventy years, and the thought brought tears to your eyes.

“I’m checking to see if you hit your head, because there’s no way you’d forget that today is your wedding. You’ve been talking about it since we were little!”

Little? You didn’t meet Peggy until 1943, when you were twenty-five. So things were really different here. “My wedding?”

“Oh my gosh! We do not have time for this!” Her hands flew up in exasperation as she yanked you towards the cutest little house. You noticed the green front door, the white picket fence, and the blooming sunflowers. It was beautiful. You could see an archway decorated with flowers, undoubtedly for your wedding. The wedding that was apparently yours.

Peggy peeked her head inside the house. “Is he still upstairs?” she called out. A voice responded affirmatively, and she hurried you inside, not giving you a chance to take in your surroundings. The house looked as though someone had just moved in—or was planning to. You could hear voices from upstairs, your heart skipping a beat when you recognized a laugh. His laugh.

Before you could fully process it, Peggy pulled you into a room just off the foyer.

Inside, you saw a garment bag, likely containing your wedding dress. Another woman was setting up curlers and makeup. When she turned, you nearly gasped. “Becca?”

“Finally! Oh my gosh, what are you wearing? Where did she run off to, Peggy?”

“That’s what I said!” Peggy replied, starting to take down your ponytail and brush your hair. “She was by the pond.”

“The pond? What were you doing over there? Did you fall in? You’re a mess,” Rebecca scolded.

A few tears slid down your cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

Rebecca’s eyes widened as she wiped away your tears. “Whoa, okay, hey. We’re not mad, just worried. And we only have,” she glanced at the clock, “two hours until showtime.”

They worked on your hair and makeup while you sat there, trying to absorb it all. This was a moment you never got in your own timeline, one you should have had. Anxiety gnawed at you. What year was it? Who were you marrying? Was Bucky here? Surely he was if Rebecca was, but what if this was after the train incident? What if you had moved on in this timeline in a way you never did—or never would? Was Steve here? Was he finally with Peggy? What was your Bucky thinking? Did he know you were gone? How long had you been missing from your universe? Did they miss you?

Peggy and Rebecca squealed in delight, snapping you out of your thoughts. They spun you around to face the mirror. You gasped softly. The woman staring back at you wasn’t who you expected to see again. Your hair was styled beautifully, parted and curled. Your makeup was flawless, enhancing your features. Your lips were painted your favourite red, a shade you hadn’t worn since before everything changed. They didn’t even make this shade anymore in 2024. Even though you had your boys back in your universe, you weren’t that girl anymore, no matter how much you wished you could be.

Rebecca and Peggy guided you to stand. “Okay, time to take whatever this… is off,” Rebecca said, motioning to your Avengers uniform. To anyone else, it might look like a tight, all-black tracksuit. Thankfully, you had used all your weapons during the mission, so you didn’t have any on you. Your last hidden knife was thrown just before you were tossed into what you could only assume was the multiverse.

Peggy opened the garment bag, handing you a smaller one. “Go put these on first,” she winked, shoving you towards the small attached bathroom.

“And please, for the love of God, don’t mess up your hair or makeup!” Rebecca shouted after you.

You stripped off your uniform, folding it neatly and placing it on the toilet. A small gash on your side caught your eye, and you winced as you cleaned it as best you could. Opening the bag, you couldn’t help but smile. Of course, it was lingerie.

You put everything on, marvelling at how it made you feel. It had been so long since you’d worn anything like this—or even worn the colour white. It felt wrong. You weren’t some innocent, naive girl anymore. You were a killer. You sighed, shoving your Avengers clothes into the bag the lingerie had come in. You felt exposed, the gash on your side still visible. Luckily, when Peggy found you, you were out of it. You could say you fell and didn’t notice.

Your hand hovered over the bathroom door handle when you heard a knock on the bedroom door. Thanks to your enhanced abilities, you could hear everything.

“It’s almost time. Is she ready?” Your heart did backflips. Steve. You’d recognize his voice anywhere, even underwater.

“Just have to do the dress,” Peggy responded firmly.

“She’s acting a little weird,” Rebecca added.

You could picture Steve’s brows furrowing in concern. “Nerves? I mean, she’s about to marry the love of her life. I’d be full of them if I were in her shoes.”

“She went for a walk. I think she hit her head. She was a little out of it.”

“Should we call a doctor? Maybe a concussion?” Steve asked, panicked.

Peggy laughed. “Steve, did you forget? I’m a nurse. I checked her over. Let’s just say it’s definitely nerves.”

A nurse? you thought. What the hell?

“Now get out of here! We’ll be ready in five minutes,” Rebecca said loudly, no doubt shoving Steve out.

You sighed, opening the bathroom door. Both their heads turned toward you. Peggy’s eyes immediately went to the red, angry cut on your side.

“Oh my gosh!” they both exclaimed, though with different meanings and tones.

“You look hot! Definitely making me some nieces or nephews tonight,” Rebecca said happily before her face scrunched up. “Ew, I forgot you’re marrying my brother.”

You felt like you could faint. It was confirmed. The you in this timeline still ended up with Bucky.

Peggy rushed forward, her focus on your cut. “I knew you fell!”

Rebecca gasped. “Bucky’s gonna be so mad I let you get hurt!”

“It’s fine, I promise. It doesn’t even hurt. I already cleaned it, Pegs.” You smiled sweetly at her. “Do you have any gauze? I don’t want to get any blood on the dress.”

She scoffed, looking offended before a small smile broke across her face. “Do I have gauze? Gosh, you and Steve really are two peas in a pod, both of you offending me within minutes!”

Peggy bandaged your side with practised ease, her hands steady as she worked. “There, good as new,” she said, standing back to admire her handiwork. She looked into your eyes, her expression softening. “You’re going to be okay… nerves or not, you’ve got this.”

Rebecca nodded enthusiastically, “Yeah, and Bucky—he’s going to lose it when he sees you. He’s been head over heels for you since… well, forever.”

You forced a smile, your heart heavy with something you couldn’t quite place “Thank you, i-i don’t know what I’d ever do without either of you” This moment felt surreal, which of course it was because it never happened for you, but you took in every moment no matter what because you would never get this again.

Peggy grinned, handing you the wedding dress. “Let’s get you into this, shall we? Can’t keep your groom waiting.”

As you slipped into the dress, the weight of the moment pressed down on you. You were about to walk down the aisle in a universe that wasn’t your own, to marry Bucky, the mixed emotions had you feeling like a child again. You were trained to be an assassin and you were letting everything get to you. Maybe because your heart was still tethered to your own timeline, to your Bucky, and the life you had left behind…the life that was taken from you by Hydra.

Once you were dressed, Peggy and Rebecca stood back, their eyes shining with pride. “You look perfect,” Peggy said, her voice full of emotion.

Rebecca’s eyes misted over. “Bucky’s going to cry when he sees you…we're finally going to be sisters!” She squealed, pulling you into a hug.

Peggy’s eyebrows shot up. “I almost forgot! We got you something.” She turned away, digging through her bag. “And don’t say we didn’t have to, because of course we did.”

Before you could respond, she turned back, holding a tiny white box tied with a little red ribbon. Your hands trembled as you took it from her and carefully untied the ribbon. Inside was a delicate gold bracelet, adorned with two stones—your birthstone and Bucky’s.

“Look on the inside,” Rebecca whispered, her excitement palpable.

You lifted the bracelet, inspecting the engraving on the inner band: Mr. & Mrs. Barnes, June 8th, 1930 - A timeless love.

Your breath hitched. 1930. This timeline was so wrong from yours, everything was different.

“I… I…” you stuttered, overwhelmed.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Peggy said softly, her voice full of warmth. “May I?” she gestured toward the bracelet. You nodded, holding out your wrist as she fastened it around you. “Now you’re ready,” she winked, stepping back.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Let’s do this.”

As you made your way downstairs, the sounds of the wedding day grew louder—music playing softly, the murmur of guests waiting for the ceremony to begin. When you reached the bottom step, you saw Steve waiting for you. But not just any Steve—pre-serum Steve, the version of him you hadn’t seen in what felt like a lifetime. You couldn’t help but tear up at the sight of him, your Stevie.

His breath caught as he took in your appearance. “You look… stunning,” he said, his voice filled with awe.

You managed a small smile, your eyes welling with tears. “Thanks, Stevie.”

He laughed, a familiar sound that tugged at your heart. “Haven’t heard you call me that in forever. I’ll let it slide because it’s your wedding day.” He offered you his arm. “Ready?”

Of course, he was the one walking you down the aisle. Your parents must be gone in this universe too. “Yeah,” you lied, taking his arm. As you walked toward the backyard, where the ceremony was set to take place, you tried to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside you. You had to keep it together, to play your part until you could figure out how to get back to your own universe.

When you stepped outside, your breath caught. The yard had been transformed into a picturesque wedding venue. Flowers adorned every surface, fairy lights twinkled in the early evening light, and the guests—all familiar faces, people you hadn’t seen in almost a hundred years, people who were gone in your time—turned to watch you. These were slightly different versions of them, but the sight was overwhelming.

But it was the sight of Bucky that nearly undid you. He stood at the end of the aisle, dressed in a sharp suit, his eyes locked on you. There was so much love and admiration in his gaze that it made your heart ache. This moment was everything you ever wanted, everything you dreamed of the day you met Bucky.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to take the first step down the aisle. With each step, the reality of what you were about to do weighed heavier on your heart. By the time you reached Bucky, your emotions were a tangled mess.

He reached out, taking your hand with both of his. “You look beautiful,” he whispered, his voice full of emotion.

You smiled up at him, trying to ignore the tears that threatened to spill over at the sight of him having both warm, flesh hands. “So do you.”

The officiant began speaking, but his words were a blur in your ears. All you could focus on was Bucky, standing before you, so close yet so far from the man you knew and loved in your timeline. He looked so peaceful, no war behind his eyes, no shadows lurking over him. There was no trauma here.

When it came time to say your vows, Bucky squeezed your hands, his voice steady as he spoke. “Doll, from the moment I met you, I knew you were gonna be my best girl.” He winked, causing you to chuckle. “I’ve loved you since the moment I first laid eyes on you, and I’ll continue to love you for the rest of my life. I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited for this day. I’ll remember it forever and cherish every moment we have together.”

His words made your heart clench. How could you possibly say your vows when your heart belonged to another version of this man? But you had to, for the sake of this universe, this timeline. You couldn’t disrupt it any more than you already had. It made your heart ache.

Taking a shaky breath, you began. “Bucky, I… I promise to love you for as long as you’ll let me. I’ll love you in every universe possible. It was always you, it will always be you. I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

The words felt hollow but carried so much meaning. Bucky’s eyes filled with love and joy, oblivious to your inner turmoil. When the officiant pronounced you husband and wife, Bucky leaned down, capturing your lips in a gentle, tender kiss. The guests cheered, and for a moment, you let yourself get lost in the kiss, in the love this version of Bucky had for you.

But as the kiss ended, and you pulled back, reality came crashing down around you. You had to find a way back to your own timeline, to your Bucky. You couldn’t live this lie; this wasn’t the life you were meant for, not anymore. You wondered where the you from this timeline was? Where did she go? Would she come back once you were gone? Would it all make sense to her? Would she know everything that happened, or would she just get tossed in? Would the day restart for her? You sure hoped it would because this was her day, not yours. And you knew if it were your day, it would have been the best day of your life. She deserved it.

As the reception began, you excused yourself, slipping away from the crowd. You needed time to think, to figure out how to return to where you belonged. You paced at the front step, the door light flickering on.

“Doll?” Bucky’s voice cut through the silence.

You spun around. “Yeah, Buck?”

He placed his glass down, concern etched on his features. “Are you okay?” His left hand grabbed yours, the warmth of his touch startling you. Not feeling the coldness you were used to was breaking your heart. It felt wrong.

You glanced up at him, those same beautiful blue eyes and perfect pink lips. “Of course, I’m with you.”

He smiled the same smile, his eyes twinkling the same. Nose crinkling the same. He started to lean in. Your heart skipped a beat; this felt wrong. He stopped right before your lips. “Mrs. Y/N Barnes,” he whispered, his voice low. “I can’t tell ya how long I’ve wanted to call you that.”

“You have no idea,” you whispered, the weight of your words almost crushing you.

Then the door burst open. “There you are!” Peggy shouted, holding a very old but likely new-for-this-time camera. She shoved past you down the front steps. “This is perfect, the beautiful couple on their wedding day in their brand-new house!”

This was your house? Jealousy gnawed at you, seeing everything this version of you had. It was so peaceful—everything you had ever wanted but never got, and never would.

Bucky pulled you close to him, his right arm wrapping tightly around your waist, while his left hand reached out to hold your left hand, intertwining your fingers.

“Okay, smile in, 3…2…1!” A giant flash went off, and you heard the mechanism of the camera working before the film popped out. “One more for good measure,” Peggy said before taking another. “This one’s for you two, and this one’s for me.” She handed you the picture before skipping off, clearly tipsy.

Bucky rested his head on your shoulder. “Beautiful…” His voice was low as he kissed your bare shoulder. “Our future kids will love to see this one day.”

“Yeah, they will,” you whispered, barely holding it together.

“Well, wife,” he said, his voice filled with a smile, “we should get back to the party. Don’t wanna keep our guests waiting.”

You turned to face him, forcing a smile. “I’ll meet you back there? I just need to use the restroom.”

“Of course, sweetheart.” He kissed your forehead before walking off.

You went back to the room where you had originally prepared, locking the door behind you. You sighed, letting a tear fall. The enormity of what had just happened hit you full force. You were married, in a timeline that wasn’t your own, to a man who wasn’t your Bucky. You took the wedding rings off placing them safely on the vanity.

Frantically, you searched for the bag with your Avengers uniform, hoping for something—anything—that could help you get back. That’s when you felt it—thanks to your heightened senses, the faint crackle of static in the air. Panic surged through you as you fumbled with the bag, grabbing your uniform and shoving the wedding picture inside. Anything you were holding should come with you.

Suddenly, the static electricity surged, pulling you into its grip. You were flung through time and space, the world spinning around you.

1958

The disorienting feeling subsided as you landed on solid ground, gasping for air. The sounds of music surrounded you, and the smell of smoke filled your lungs. You looked down at yourself—you were still in the white dress, the bracelet from Becca and Peggy still in a bag clutched in your hand along with your gear and the photo, all still there. You stared at the picture, the image of you and Bucky smiling on your wedding day in that alternate timeline.

But this still wasn’t your timeline. You could tell by the dated cars and the subtle differences in the surroundings. At least something was happening, something that made you feel a bit more at ease. Your friends, your teammates—your Bucky—must be doing something, trying to get you back. Why else would you be in another timeline?

You stopped when you saw a newspaper on the ground, picking it up fast. The date read July 4th, 1958. At least you were moving ahead in time and not backward. You didn’t remember much about 1958 in your timeline; you were either in cryo or being experimented on, just like Bucky. The only thing you knew for sure was that today was Steve’s birthday.

As you walked through the familiar yet different streets, you noticed some stores were still here from when you last remembered, at least in your universe. One, a secondhand shop, caught your eye—a store you didn’t recall existing before. You slipped inside, knowing you had to blend in.

Rummaging through the clothing racks, you found a dress that would have to do. You didn’t have any money, and the thought of stealing made your stomach churn, but you needed to blend in until you were pulled from this timeline, just in case you ran into someone you knew. You didn’t understand much about the multiverse, but you knew enough to avoid tampering with it.

You sighed, grabbing a few more dresses and walking toward the changing room. The man at the counter called out, “How many do you have, Miss?”

You smiled sweetly, holding up three dresses. “Just three, sir!”

He nodded, satisfied, as you entered the changing room. Once inside, you used the moment to breathe. You had to take your time as if you were trying on the other dresses. You slipped the fourth dress on under your wedding dress, checking in the mirror to make sure it wasn’t noticeable. Satisfied, you stepped out, returning the other dresses to the rack.

“No luck?” the man asked.

You shook your head. “Sorry.”

“No worries, ma’am. You have a wonderful day!” he replied cheerfully.

You quickly made your way into an alley, taking off the wedding dress to reveal the more appropriate attire beneath. “Sorry, Y/N,” you whispered to yourself, tossing the wedding dress into a dumpster before stepping back out onto the street.

“Y/N?” Steve’s voice called softly.

You froze, turning around. “Steve?” How was he still alive? You didn’t know exactly how the multiverse worked, and clearly, any insight you had was completely wrong. The only thing you were sure of was that you weren’t supposed to tamper with anything—or was that time travel? You were so out of your depth.

He looked the same as he did the last time you saw him in the 40s in your timeline. Fashion hadn’t changed drastically, and the Super Soldier Serum had kept him looking youthful. He definitely had seen war, but maybe the jet didn’t go down in this timeline, sparing him from the fate he faced in your own.

“Why do you sound surprised to see me?” He laughed, reaching out to pull you into a side hug, his left arm holding a brown bag. “Doing some shopping?” he asked, nodding toward the bag you were carrying.

You nodded, trying to keep your composure. “You know me,” you shrugged, forcing a smile. Your heart raced, knowing he could likely hear it with his enhanced senses, just as you could hear his.

“Oh! Happy Birthday!” you exclaimed, trying to shift the focus. “How old are you now? Sixty?”

He chuckled, nudging your shoulder playfully. “Oh, ha ha! I’ll have you know I’m not a day over forty!” But his eyes betrayed a sadness before he cleared his throat. “Ready to go?”

You nodded, letting him lead the way. The silence between you was comfortable, as it always was. It didn’t matter what timeline you were in—Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes would always be constants in your life, and vice versa.

As you approached your destination, you froze. A graveyard. There were so many possibilities of who you could be visiting here with Steve—his mother, someone from the war, or… Bucky. The pang in your chest was familiar, the same one you felt all those years ago when you saw Steve walking up to you and Peggy after that fateful day that took your Bucky from you.

Steve gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “It’s gonna be okay.”

You nodded solemnly, gesturing for him to lead the way.

When you reached the grave, your breath caught in your throat.

‘James Buchanan Barnes

March 10, 1917 - January 10, 1945

Beloved son, brother, friend, fiancé, hero.’

The sight of Bucky’s name on the gravestone hit you like a punch to the gut. This timeline was too close to what might have been if only Bucky had been taken and not all of you. You never even got to see the headstone of your Bucky. This felt surreal, like a cruel echo of a life you could have lived but never did.

Steve sat down first, patting the ground beside him, signalling you to join him. You placed your bag down and lowered yourself to the ground, your legs feeling heavy. The weight of the moment pressed down on you as Steve pulled out a small box from the bag he was carrying. When he opened it, you gasped softly at the sight of photos, letters, and a ring pinned to a small cushion, kept safe all these years.

Carefully, Steve unhooked the ring and handed it to you. “I know you only like to wear it when we visit him,” he said, his voice gentle, laced with a sadness that matched your own. “When I saw you left it at home today, I grabbed it. I hope that was okay?”

His eyes held such deep emotion that it almost broke you. It was the kind of look that spoke of shared loss, of knowing all too well the pain of losing someone who was a part of your soul.

“Of course, Stevie,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. Your hands shook as you slipped the ring onto your finger, its familiar weight both comforting and heartbreaking. Another timeline where you didn’t get what you should have. Another reminder of the love that was taken from you, that you were once so close to having.

You stared at the ring, the symbol of a love that transcended time and space. It was a small, simple thing, but it held the weight of all the what-ifs and could-have-beens. You sat there in silence, mourning a life that never was, when Steve pulled out the photographs, laying them carefully between you.

There were pictures of Bucky and you, of Steve and Bucky, and some of all three of you together. As you looked through them, you let Steve retell the memories behind each one. His voice was soft and steady, grounding you as he recounted moments that felt as if they had happened only yesterday. The photographs were almost identical to the ones you had actually created with the boys in your own timeline, each one a snapshot of a life lived together in friendship and love.

One photo caught your eye, and you reached into the box to pick it up. It was a picture of you and Bucky dressed for prom. You inspected it closely, your eyes tracing every detail. It was exactly how you remembered, right down to the dress you wore, the smile on Bucky’s face, the way his arm was wrapped protectively around your waist.

“He couldn’t believe you actually agreed to go with him,” Steve said, a small smile tugging at his lips as he looked at the photo over your shoulder.

You smiled back, the memory warming your heart despite the sadness that lingered. “We had our first kiss that night,” you said, your voice soft with nostalgia.

“And the rest is history,” Steve replied, his tone light but tinged with the same bittersweetness you felt. He smiled, but his eyes were distant, lost in the memory of that night, of a time when everything seemed so much simpler, so full of promise.

“You have no idea,” you whispered, more to yourself than to Steve, as the weight of everything you’d been through settled over you like a shroud. The love you shared with Bucky was more than history—it was a bond that spanned timelines, a connection that not even the chaos of the multiverse could sever.

The two of you sat there in quiet companionship, the silence between you filled with the unspoken understanding of what you had lost and what you had found in each other. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the memories and the unbreakable bond you shared with Bucky—a bond that would endure, no matter what timeline you found yourself in.

Then you felt it. The electricity, the unease of what was about to happen , you know Steve felt it as he stood right up. His protectiveness of you taking over “Stay here” his voice switching over to his Captain America tone, leaking with authority you nodded. You watched him walk off, you grabbed onto your bag with your belongings, putting the photo of Bucky and you before prom in it before dragging you away from the grave, from Steve, from Bucky’s final resting place.

1500s

You landed with a jolt, gasping for air, your heart pounding in your chest. The world around you slowly came into focus— a garden, a fountain, and a castle? What the hell. The ring was still on your finger, the bag still clutched in your hand, but your surroundings were starkly different.

You were no longer in 1958. You had been pulled into yet another timeline.

But this time, something felt different. This time, you weren’t alone.

A voice behind you, low and familiar, sent chills down your spine.

“What are you doing out here?”

You turned slowly, your breath catching in your throat.

There he stood—Bucky. But there was something different in his eyes, something darker, more intense.

“Bucky?” you whispered, unsure.

He moved swiftly, grabbing you by the arms and hoisting you to your feet. “You shouldn’t be out here, love. They could find you.”

“W-who?”

He stopped pulling you once you were concealed by the dense trees, your back pressed against the rough bark. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you again?”

“N-no? Bucky, what’s going on?” You didn’t like this timeline; everything felt too unfamiliar, too dark, too off.

His hands cradled your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks in a way that was both tender and desperate. This Bucky reminded you more of your Bucky than the others you had encountered—the darkness in his eyes, the shadows that told stories of things seen and done, of battles fought and lost. “Our plan is still set for dawn. If you still want to run away with me… if you’ll still have me.” His voice was laced with urgency and vulnerability. “Steve and Sam have everything ready. We just meet here at dawn, and the boys and I will handle the rest.”

His eyes bore into yours, pleading silently, worried that your hesitation was a sign you had changed your mind. He continued, his voice breaking slightly, “I know I can’t give you a castle or the fancy poofy dresses you hate so much.” You smiled at that— even though this wasn’t exactly you he was talking about, it still sounded like you. “But I promise I’ll love you with everything I have. No one will ever hurt you or lay a finger on you again. I love you… please, doll.”

“Bucky,” you whispered, reaching up to place your hand over his, “of course I’m still with you. It’s always you. There’s no me without you.” Literally, you thought. If only he knew the true extent of what you meant.

He let out the breath he had been holding, his shoulders relaxing. “Okay, okay.” He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Go back to your room. One small bag with your must-haves, remember? Leave the rest behind. We’ll start over together. Try not to talk to anyone. We meet back here at dawn.”

You nodded, and he smiled—that familiar smile that had followed you through so many timelines. “Okay, Bucky, I’ll see you soon.”

He grabbed your hands, pressing a kiss to each of your knuckles. “I’ll see you soon.” Then he turned, disappearing back into the trees.

You sighed, turning to make your way back to what you assumed was where you lived—a castle, no less. You had to be way back in time. You moved stealthily through the hallways, avoiding anyone you saw, making your way up the stairs. Your enhanced abilities made it easy to hear if people were coming or if a room was occupied, until you found one that seemed like yours. The confirmation came when you stepped inside and noticed a slightly off-looking floorboard. You smiled—of course, you would have a secret hiding spot.

Locking the door behind you, you added extra precaution by wedging a chair under the handle. You knelt by the floorboard and used a letter opener to pry it up, revealing a small bag tucked inside. Opening it, you found mementos, trinkets, but mostly letters.

You carefully unfolded one of the letters, your heart racing as you recognized Bucky’s handwriting. The words were filled with love and hope, speaking of a future you both dreamed of, away from the dangers and the darkness that surrounded you:

My Dearest Love,

Each day apart from you feels like an eternity. My heart aches for you, and every moment without you is a moment lost. When I close my eyes, I see your face, so beautiful and full of light, and when I gaze up at the stars, I find solace in knowing that we are both under the same sky. I see your eyes in every twinkle, as if the heavens themselves reflect the love we share.

Steve has brought troubling news—rumours that your father is pushing you towards marriage with that wretched George. The mere thought of you in his arms is unbearable to me. But hear me now, my love: I will not allow this fate to befall you. You are mine, as I am yours, and nothing in this world will keep us apart.

I have devised a plan, one that will bring us together once and for all. In three weeks’ time, we will be free. Meet me at our secret place, where the willow bends by the riverbank. I will be waiting for you there, ready to take you far from this place, where we can live the life we have dreamed of—together, without fear, without chains.

Until that moment, hold on to the thought of us, of the life we will soon share. Let it give you strength, as your love gives me mine. We will be together, my sweet girl, I swear it to you with all that I am.

Yours, now and forever,

With all the love in my heart,

B.B.

This bag was filled with letters from Bucky to you—hundreds of them. Each one was a testament to the love you shared, a forbidden love that defied the rules of time and space. It was fate. In every timeline, it was fate.

Each letter was a promise, a piece of the life you both yearned for, a life you were determined to reach if you could just make it to dawn.

As you placed the letters back into the bag, your resolve strengthened. The version of you here wasn’t just running away with Bucky—you were running toward the life you both deserved, a life free from the chains of expectations and the weight of secrecy.

You packed a few essentials into the small bag, knowing you couldn’t take much, but also knowing that what truly mattered wasn’t what you left behind, but who you were moving forward with. As you finished, you took one last look around the room—this life, and the person you had been here—aware that in just a few hours, you would be leaving it all behind.

Steeling yourself, you clutched the bag close and whispered to the empty room, “We’ll make it, Bucky. She’ll see you at dawn.”

With that, you slipped out of the room and into the shadows, ready for whatever the future—whatever this timeline—had in store for you.

Once outside, you carefully placed the bag by the tree, hoping that when you were inevitably pulled back through the multiverse, the you from this timeline would replace you in this spot. She would see the bag and know—because she would just know. You couldn’t leave everything behind, though. You slipped one of the letters into the bag you were still hauling around, the one with your Avengers gear, along with the photo of you and Bucky on your wedding day, and the one of the two of you on the way to the dance—the night of your first kiss.

You held the bag tight, feeling the surge of energy building around you. The air crackled with electricity, the atmosphere growing thick with anticipation. You braced yourself as the vortex of yellow and blue hues began to swirl around you, pulling you back into the multiverse.

As the world spun and twisted, you closed your eyes, clutching the letter and photos close to your heart. You didn’t know where you would land next, but one thing was certain—you would find him again. No matter how many timelines you had to traverse, no matter how many obstacles stood in your way, you would always find Bucky. But you wanted your Bucky

So as you were being tossed around you did something different this time, you thought of memories from your timeline. You kept picturing your Bucky. His long hair, his vibranium arm, his eye crinkles, the nose scrunch. His haunting blue eyes, the way his arms feel around you. The way you felt when you were reunited, the way his lips felt on yours.

2024

You crashed into the glass table at the compound, landing with a loud, painful thud. The impact knocked the wind out of you, and black spots danced across your vision. Voices filled the air, overlapping with the ringing in your ears and the pounding in your head. This was different—much worse than any landing in the other timelines. But then again, you hadn’t smashed into a glass table before.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you squinted through the blurriness. The compound slowly came into focus—familiar, yet surreal after everything you’d been through. You tried to gauge how this timeline felt, but your senses were overloaded. Through the haze, you recognized a voice.

“Tony?” you croaked.

His eyes were wide with shock and something you couldn’t quite place—relief? “Holy shit! It worked!” He looked at you, disbelief melting into excitement. “Is this…?” he gestured at you.

Strange stepped forward, his expression calm but with a faint smile. “The timelines are at peace. It’s her,” he confirmed, nodding at Tony before turning to you. “You’re back.”

Tears welled in your eyes. “I’m back,” you whispered, the reality settling in. “I’m really back.” You pushed yourself up, but the dizziness hit you hard. Tony reached out to steady you.

“Your senses might be slightly off as your body readjusts to its proper timeline,” Strange explained, his tone reassuring. “But with your enhanced capabilities, it shouldn’t take long.” He gave Tony a final nod before stepping back into one of his magical yellow portals—what you and Bucky had always called them.

Bucky. The thought of him hit you like a freight train. You turned to Tony, panic rising in your chest. “W-where is he?”

“He’s on his way,” Tony replied quickly. “FRIDAY alerted him. Cap had to get him out of the compound—he was getting hostile. They went for a run.”

You nodded, trying to process everything. “How long have I been gone?”

“Two months,” Tony said gently. “We should get you to medical, get you checked out. You fell through my table, for Christ’s sake.”

“To me, it felt like a few hours,” you muttered, the enormity of it all weighing down on you. No wonder you felt so disoriented—what had been mere hours for you had been two long months here.

“Mr. Rogers, Mr. Wilson, and Mr. Barnes are back,” FRIDAY announced.

“I need to see him first,” you insisted, tears spilling down your cheeks as you pushed past Tony and sprinted toward the direction where you knew Bucky would be coming from.

You could hear all three sets of footsteps. Sam’s were slower, lighter, trailing behind. Steve’s were steady and precise, not far behind. But Bucky’s—Bucky’s were frantic, almost desperate, pounding toward you with an urgency that made your heart race.

When you rounded the corner, you saw them. The sight of Bucky made you stop in your tracks, your bag slipping from your fingers to the ground. Your hands flew to your face as a sob of pure relief escaped your lips. “Bucky.”

They all halted at the sight of you—except Bucky. He didn’t hesitate. He closed the distance between you in a heartbeat, pulling you firmly into his arms. His grip was tight, almost as if he was afraid you’d slip away again.

You clung to him just as fiercely, burying your face in his chest, inhaling the scent that was so uniquely him. “I’m here, Bucky. I’m here,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m not letting you go again.”

You stood there in Bucky’s arms for what felt like hours—maybe even an eternity—and you wouldn’t have minded. It was as if time itself had slowed down, letting you savor the moment. When you finally pulled back slightly, your hands traveled up his arms, over the familiar contrast of flesh and vibranium, before resting gently on his face. He held onto your waist firmly, grounding you both in the reality of this moment.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “It’s really you.”

Behind you, Tony’s footsteps approached, a reminder of the world outside your reunion. “Barnes, we need her in medical. She literally fell through my table,” he said, his tone half-joking but mostly concerned.

Bucky nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. He gently took your hand off his face, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles before lacing his fingers with yours. Together, you began to walk toward the medbay.

“Wait!” You suddenly stopped, turning back to retrieve your bag.

“What’s in that?” Steve’s voice came from beside you, his hand resting warmly on your shoulder.

You smiled up at him, reaching into the bag to pull out two photographs and a letter. Handing them to Steve, you watched as he stared at the images in shock before passing them to Bucky, your Bucky. Steve unfolded the letter, his eyes scanning the words that transcended time.

Then, you lifted your left hand, sliding off the ring that had been a symbol across lifetimes. You placed it in Steve’s palm, then removed a bracelet, handing it to Bucky. “There our birthstones,” you said softly, noticing how Bucky’s eyes began to water. “Look inside.”

Bucky’s voice was thick with emotion as he read the inscription aloud: “Mr. & Mrs. Barnes, June 8th, 1930 - A timeless love.”

“Holy shit,” Sam finally spoke, breaking the reverent silence.

You nodded, feeling the weight of all the timelines you had traversed. You glanced at Steve, then back at Bucky, your heart full of certainty. “In every timeline I was in,” you said, your voice steady, “you both were always there.”

Turning fully to Bucky, you let a tear slip down your cheek as you continued, “It’s always been you. Every time, in every world, it was always us.”

Bucky pulled you close again, his arms wrapping around you as if he could merge the fractured pieces of time that had kept you apart. “And it always will be,” he whispered into your hair, his voice filled with unshakeable conviction.

In that moment, surrounded by the people who had been with you in every timeline, every reality, you knew that your journey through the multiverse had finally led you home. There was no more running, no more searching. You were where you were meant to be—with the person you were always meant to be with.

It was a love that had defied time, space, and every obstacle the universe had thrown your way. And now, standing in the place where it all began, you knew it would last forever.

[zer0pm]

Imagine somehow finding yourself in the arms of Leon and Luis in the most inopportune times.

“Yeah, no. I don’t know about this, guys.”

“It’s not that big of a drop. You can do this.”

“Easy for you to say, Leon!”

“Calma, my fine friend. Just close your eyes and remember not to lock your knees.”

“Luis, you are not helping.”

You turn your head at the sound of shouting. Further in the distance, a mob of plaga-infected cultists are sprinting towards you three with torches and pitchforks.

Luis walks forward, waving at you to move. “Go! I’ll take care of them.” Not giving you a chance to protest against this reckless idea, the Spaniard bravely rushes straight at the mob with a stack of dynamite in hand.

Seeing no other option, you approach the edge of the cliff. Just seeing how high up you are and how low the lower ground is was enough to make you hesitate and quake in your shoes. The fear of hurting yourself in the fall outweighing your fear of being mauled to pieces by angry villagers.

“I-I… I can’t-”

BOOM!

The thunderous blast along with the violent tremors beneath your feet shocks you so terribly that you practically leap off the rocky edge with a horrified scream. You realize then that you didn’t position yourself properly. You were free falling with your head facing the sky, hurdling towards the ground without any means to cushion your landing. Anticipating great pain, your eyes shut tight. An involuntary, terror-stricken yelp escapes you when you no longer felt the rush of wind, awaiting your back to harshly collide with the hard ground.

The pain doesn’t come. You didn’t feel any dirt and grovel, but still felt yourself pressed against something hard and firm. You are also suspended, to your surprise, your weight supported by a steady hold beneath your shoulders and knees.

A husky voice calls out to you. “You okay?”

You didn’t realize that you still had your eyes closed, opening them to see a familiar blond gazing down at you. The icy color in his eyes flash with genuine concern. Piecing together that Leon broke your fall by catching you in his arms, your cheeks burn a tinge of pink that does not go unnoticed.

The agent throws you a small grin at your silence, “I’ll take that as a yes. Don’t worry, not going to let anything happen to you. I got your back. Literally.”

There is an unmistakable warmth in his expression, a magnetic glint in his eyes that you couldn’t tear yourself away from. Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. You want to thank him but found yourself at a loss for words. Leon’s gaze switches from your eyes to your mouth then, bright blues lingering. The way he is looking at you, it is like he is placed in a trance. Whether it was done purposefully or he was subconsciously driven to readjust your weight in his hands, the man tightens his hold on you, bringing your chests tightly together.

His lips open slightly, mimicking yours, and it is then did you notice just how close your faces are. You feel yourself falling under the same spell, your senses becoming dizzy from his musky scent and it is as if his entire being is enveloping you. In a way, you are completely surrounded by him. And he seems to be moving closer to you yet, his lips slowly inching forward…

“¡Oye, Yanqui!” Both of you look up in alarm to see Luis yelling, the dark-haired man still at the top of the cliff above. It seems the mob that was pursuing you three no longer posed as a danger as you didn’t hear or see any furious monsters behind him. Luis must have also been observing the interaction between you two as he had an amused expression on his rugged face. You almost swore that you can see a bit of green in his grey eyes. “What about me?”

Leon merely gives the Spaniard a deadpan look. “What about you?”

Luis rolls his eyes, gesturing with arms wide as if what he was hinting towards is obvious. “Would be nice to have a certain Prince Charming break my fall too.”

The blond scoffs. “Sucks to be you,” he retorts, promptly walking the other direction and purposefully moving further away from the cliffside.

You watch intently as Luis’ shoulders slump, the man visibly heaving a deep, defeated sigh before analyzing the height of the drop. He jumps off with a running start and a worried gasp rips from your throat when he doesn’t stick the landing, tumbling about in a not-so-graceful fashion before finally coming to a rest on his side. Your ears pick up the Spaniard groaning curses in his native tongue.

“I think Luis hurt himself,” you comment aloud.

Leon doesn’t bother looking back, his steps maintaing a brisk pace. “Don’t worry about him, he’ll be fine.”

The desire to argue with the blond about this was strong, but was quickly dismissed when you spot Luis rising back up to a stand and dusting off his pants. He seemed none the worse for wear. You sigh, a relieved smile easing onto your lips. It drops when you finally register that you are still being carried.

“Uh… Leon?”

The stoic agent acknowledges you with a hum.

“…Think you can put me down?”

You guess that Leon didn’t realize that he was holding you longer than necessary either, the tips of his ears a deep red as he hurriedly helps you back on your feet. He utters an embarrassed apology almost too low for you to hear and you give him a shy thanks in turn, casting your eyes to the ground so that he wouldn’t see your blush blooming again. You didn’t catch the way he beheld you then.

Fortunately, the awkward moment disperses before it could permeate.

Unfortunately, it is because of a gargantuan monster bursting out from seemingly within the mountainside. Upon seeing the three of you, it releases a terrible roar that shakes the very air.

“¡Gigante! Run, amigos!” Luis shouts, catching up to you and Leon. Without warning, he grabs you by the hand and pulls you close behind him as he sprints away.

The giant plaga chases you all through the area for what seems like an eternity. After some time, you feel your lungs and legs start to give out, your feet staggering with each step. Sensing you struggle to keep up the pace, the Spaniard stops abruptly.

You heave with ragged breath, “Luis, we can’t stop-”

He wordlessly sweeps you into his arms with a strength that astounds you. At your surprised expression, the dark-haired man flashes you a toothy grin before running off again with the same quickness he had before. Not once did he stumble or falter.

If the situation wasn’t so dire, you would have berated Luis for his arrogance and him taking on the burden of literally carrying your weight without so much as giving you a say in the matter. However, you were too exhausted to argue. This moment of respite was not relished for very long, though, as the two of you come to a sudden stop once again. The two of you are overlooking yet another high cliff.

You groan in tired exasperation. “You have got to be kidding me!”

Panic grips at your heart, you glance over Luis’ broad shoulder with fearful eyes to see if the monster is still in pursuit. To your astonishment, you see the large beast distracted in one spot several paces away. Distracted by a certain blond who was firing at it relentlessly. Leon was unleashing hell upon the plaga without fear, but the shells seem to only bounce off its hard skin. Despite how ineffective the attacks appear, it is apparently enough to hold the giant’s attention. For how long, you were loathe to find out.

Catching you staring, Leon yells over the gunfire. “What are you two waiting for? Jump!”

Jump?!

You peek back over the edge. There’s a body of water below and terror-filled thoughts ran frantically in your hyperactive mind.

Are the waters shallow? Are they deep? You swear that you can see sharp rocks too. There’s no way any of you can do this and live to tell the tale.

A firm squeeze on your side pulls you from the depths of your increasing panic. You turn your head to see Luis smiling patiently. It is not the playful smirk he often wears but rather it is one that offered nothing but sincere reassurance.

Luis speaks up softly, the seriousness in his thick accent even and irrefutable, “My friend, do you trust me?”

His question didn’t need an answer. You knew what he was implying. And although you were scared out of your wits, you found comfort in Luis’ confidence. There is an unwavering determination is his grey gaze, a silent promise that your safety is assured with him.

His bright smile widens at the sight of your nod and he returns it with one of his own. “Hold onto me.”

You follow his order, wrapping your arms tight around his neck. For the second time, you shut your eyes, bracing for another long fall.

A moment passes.

Two.

Nothing.

You don’t hear yourself being carried further away from the sound of Leon’s gunshots. You don’t feel the rush of wind against your face or your body and clothes submerged in water. Overwhelmed with curiosity, you open your eyes and discover Luis still staring down at you. There is an intense emotion in his silver gaze that you couldn’t place.

“Luis, what’s happening? What’s wrong?”

He tilts his head. “Nada. Was just thinking that at a time like this,” he begins to say slowly, the tone of his voice dropping to depths that sent flutters into your heart, “we could use a bit of good luck. A favor shared between a knight and his intended. What do you say?”

You were going to ask what he was going on about, but the question becomes stuck in your throat when you see his face dip down to yours. Your noses bump at the tips and he inches closer still. You didn’t realize you stopped breathing until your lungs forced you to suck in much needed air, the taste of his breath warm upon your tongue.

Your heart was pounding loudly against your chest, blood pumping through your veins so fiercely that you thought you would faint right then and there. Your mind becomes totally blank and all you can process is the faint brush of Luis’ lips…

Bump!

“Ugh-!”

“Ahhhhh!!”

The sudden jolt of your body rushing forward brings you back to awareness. You’re falling. Again! But it isn’t you that is screaming now. It’s Luis. He’s falling next to you. In the corner of your eye, you catch a pair of gloved hands grasping on both of your forearms.

Three bodies plunge into the chilly waters. You were flailing about, unable to regain equilibrium, and you thought for certain that you were going to drown. But luck was on your side yet again as you’re pulled to the open surface by strong hands on your person. Sweet air then returns to your lungs.

“¡Loco hijo de puta! Were you trying to kill us?!”

“Don’t give me that, I told you two to jump.”

Leon and Luis already had their heads above the water by the time you regained your wits, the two of them arguing back and forth. You tuned out their squabble in favor of searching for the gigante. The monster peering down high above. With a furious roar, it retreats back from whence it came, leaving you three alone for good, and relief washes over you. Looking around, your eyes then find a stretch of land that the three of you could swim towards. You made a move to start paddling to safety, not wanting to linger in case there were more terrors treading about below. Or at least you tried to.

You couldn’t move. Your body was quite literally pressed in between the two men. Their arms circled around you, keeping you afloat and securely in place. You could feel every inch of their hard muscles pressing against your front and back. Despite the freezing chill of the water surrounding you, your body felt like it was lit aflame. The handsome agent and the dashing Spaniard cease their bickering when they hear you gasp.

Leon, who is behind you, looks at the back of your bowed head. His hardened expression softening to that of worry as he called your name. “Are you hurt? We should get you out of the water fast.”

Luis, who is in front of you, observes you with a knowing smirk. His teasing, cheeky demeanor returning tenfold. He was about to say something, but you silence him with a deathly glare.

You totally miss the look of confusion on Leon’s face when Luis starts busting out laughing. Being close to these two is a new kind of dangerous.

[sapphire-writes]

The Hidden Daughter

pairing: Aemond x Baratheon!Reader request: hi love your work :) would love to request an aemond x baratheon reader-in which there is a 5th daughter that her father keeps hidden as she is his favorite she is shy at first but is smary and has fire. you can imagine aemonds surprise when he sees her patting and talking to vhagar. possessive aemond and smut please maybe on top of vhagar :) by @ivvypg note: LOVE some possessive Aemond, love this request! hope you enjoy 💚 warnings: possessiveness, SMUT, choking, smut is below the cut be warned it's dirty and on DRAGONBACK! word count: 1.6k masterlist

Aemond was presented with a feast when he arrived at Storm’s End. A feast, a tourney, and a melee for his honor. Along with being presented with Lord Borros’ four daughters; any of whom he would be allowed to claim for marriage. Little did he know, a fifth daughter lived within the walls of Storm’s End, not present during his arrival. 

You were Lord Borros' favorite. Your fire and free spirit reminded him so much of himself, he couldn’t bear the thought of being parted from you. You were his last child, his final daughter and he was not ready to give you up. Even to a prince. 

You were out picking flowers when the one-eyed prince arrived, something you did often to avoid the dreary halls of the castle. Your father allowed you to go as the prince arrived, hoping Aemond would choose which daughter he wished to wed immediately upon his arrival. Though it was raining, you wore a shawl that shielded you from the freezing drops. You found that a rainstorm was the best time to explore the edges of the woods, in search of new flora. 

While tracing the edge of the forest she was met with a monstrous roar. Snapping your head up, you dropped your basket as you came face to face with the oldest, largest dragon in the world. Your eyes widened as you looked upon Vhagar, lips parting in shock. Vhagar roared again, the sound shaking the ground beneath your feet. The very sky seemed to listen to Vhagar as the clouds let their rain stop. 

“You’re a wonderful beast, aren’t you?” you tell Vhagar, who roars again, shooting a stream of fire into the air above her. You laugh in surprise. 

“I have never seen a dragon before,” you tell her, and she looks at you as if understanding.

“I am not speaking your mother tongue, am I?” you say, pouting, “I am probably confusing you greatly, my apologies lady!” 

Vhagar lets out a high-pitched chirp, much like a large bird. You laugh again. 

“Do you like me?” you ask, taking a step closer. Vhagar roars again, a warning. You hold your hands open in surrender. 

“I won’t come closer if you wish,” you tell her, “but I may have something for you.”

You reach for your basket, picking underneath the flowers you collected. You had packed yourself lunch, a fresh meat pie, wrapped in cloth. You took it out, unwrapping it, the pastry still steaming. Vhagar lifted her nose, sniffing the air. Your face broke out in a smile. 

“Smells good?” you ask, and Vhagar chirps again. You walk a few feet closer placing the pie in front of her. You back up quickly as she lashes out, snatching the pie and a chunk of the earth into her gullet. 

“That could have been me!” you scold, and Vhagar makes a sound like a purring cat. 

“What are you doing?”

You jump back, the smile leaving your face at the arrival of the one-eyed prince, causing the hood of your cloak to fall back. Aemond assesses you before walking over to Vhagar patting her jaw as she continues to purr. 

“Your grace,” you choke, before curtseying. 

“Who are you?”

“Lady Y/N Baratheon, your grace.”

“Lord Borros assured me he had four daughters,” he told you, “he lied?”

“Yes, my prince,” you admit. You do not wish to betray your father, but know there is no other way out of the situation. You cannot lie to the prince.

“Why?”

“He wishes to keep me at Storm’s End.”

Aemond looks you up and down and looks at how Vhagar responds to you. He takes in your appearance, skirts muddied from trailing through the wildflower beds of the forest. You cross your arms as he examines you thoroughly with his one-seeing eye.

“That simply will not do,” he says, a smirk appearing on his face.

“What shall not do?” you ask, brows coming together. 

“Who is a lord to deny a prince?” he continues, walking over to you. You feel your breath coming in your pants. 

“Who would you wish to belong to, my lady?” he asks, placing a hand on your cheek, “your father or a prince who rides the largest, strongest dragon in the world?”

He is dangerously handsome, so much it steals the breath from your lungs. 

“I do not know, my prince. I prefer to belong to myself”

This causes Aemond to chuckle. 

“I shall make the decision easy for you. I choose you. Your father said I could have any of his daughters. He hid you from me, but not well enough.”

Aemond places a thumb on your lower lip, tugging it gently. Your eyes are wide as you gaze upon him. The look in his eyes is that of a man starved. 

“Do you wish to ride her?” he asks. Your eyes widen.

“Would you allow it?”

Aemond nods, ushering you toward the ropes that lead to Vhagar’s back. Vhagar’s large green eyes watch you as you begin your ascent. You are sure you can see the entirety of the Stormlands as you walk across her back. 

As Aemond climbs on behind you, he leads you to the saddle in the middle of her back. It looks almost comical, and you wonder how he is able to steer such a large dragon. He throws a leg over the saddle, sitting down. 

“You sit in front, my lady,” he tells you, patting the space in front of him, “to see the view.”

You do as you’re told, and Aemond speaks something in High Valyrian that makes Vhagar lift her large head, spread her wings and take to the skies. The wind blows through your hair and you cannot help the excited laugh that escapes your lips. 

What wondrous fun it must be to be a Targaryen. How freeing it must be to take to the skies whenever you want. Aemond’s hands tighten around your waist, causing heat to flood through your body. 

“This is amazing!” Aemond swallows your happy giggles with a kiss, as he turns your face towards him. His tongue opens your mouth to him and you moan, feeling a tingling sensation between your legs. 

He grabs your thighs, turning you around in the saddle to face him. You wrap your legs around his waist, pressing your clothed core into the hard bulge of his pants, gasping at the contact. He brings his hand between you, under your skirts, pulling at your small clothes. He lets a finger slide through your slick folds, teasing your sensitive clit. You jerk your hips at the stimulation. 

“Do you wish to give yourself to me?” he asks, kissing your lips once more, “let me make you my princess.”

You swallow, every nerve in your body singing with his words. Princess. Aemond Targaryen’s lady, his princess. 

“Yes,” you tell him, wetting your lips. He smiles triumphantly. 

He undoes his breeches, a well-endowed cock coming free. He tears away the remainder of your small clothes, lifting your hips over his. Your jaw slacks as you sink your cunt onto his hardened cock, sheathing him completely within your heat. He lets you set the pace at first, one hand still holding the reins of Vhagar. Your cunt feels magical, hot, and pulsating around him with every stroke. 

You bounce slightly on his cock, the soft moans pouring from your mouth music to Aemond’s ears. The exposed tops of your breasts jiggle with every bounce and Aemond buries his face between them, placing wet kisses on the soft flesh. 

He soon grows impatient with your pace, bringing his hands to your waist lifting you up, and slamming you down on his cock. The new ferocity makes you cry out, causing Aemond to smile wickedly. 

“Scream as loud as you need, my lady,” he says, voice rough, “let them hear you from the skies.”

You do as you’re told, obscene moans leaving your mouth as he continues to guide you on his cock. You dig your hands into his shoulders, using the leverage to aid him, rotating your hips at a desperate pace as your pleasure builds. Aemond brings one of his hands-free, snaking it up the front of your gown until it comfortably wraps around your throat. 

“Tell me you’re mine,” he growls and you whimper, “say it.”

“I am yours,” you moan, throwing your head back, and wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“No one else's.”

“No one, only yours,” you promise him, continuing to bounce on his length, wet noises filling the open air. 

“Your father could never keep you from me,” he says, squeezing his hand just enough, you feel deliciously light-headed, “you were made for me and me alone.”

“Yes, just for you,” you cry. Aemond drops his hand between you both, rubbing circles on the bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. 

“Cum for me,” he demands, “give your pleasure to me.” 

You do as he commands, and with a final scream, you fall apart around him. Your limbs turn to jelly as you feel him release within you, sheathed so deeply within you, you feel him pressed against the entrance of your womb. 

“He shan’t keep you from me,” Aemond says breathlessly, grabbing your face and pressing a searing kiss to your lips. 

“I shall fuck you full of my children,” he promises, “silver babes created in the skies.”

You nod furiously, drunk with pleasure, wanting only to please him.

“You would like that wouldn’t you?” he croons, noticing your cock dumb expression. You feel his cock within you twitch, becoming hard once more. 

“Yes,” you whimper, clinging to him as though he is the only thing keeping you secure to Vhagar’s back. He bites his lip, a growl emitting from deep within his chest.

He lifts his hips, thrusting up into you once more.

“Then let us continue, my lady.”

[grandlinedreams]

Hiya! Thank you for all of your fics! 🫡 They really make my day everyday! If you are still accepting requests, may I please request anything angsty with a fluffy end for Azriel 🥹 Whatever you can think of! ☺️

Hiya!! I sure can hehe, I hope this is to your liking!!

|| warnings: angst, blood, the war camp Illyrians are jerks, fluff

Illyria is fucking cold.

Wind whips at your face, unforgiving chill biting at any exposed skin ㅡ not to mention the steady crush of snow beneath your feet. The sun is already sinking past the snow-covered line of pines that makes up the steppes ㅡ making you grimace and attempt to hurry your pace.

This was not how you'd expected to spend your evening ㅡ but then again, you suppose freezing to death is more ideal than whatever fate your supposed "group" had intended for you. Made of Illyrian males and wholly unfamiliar, they'd made it clear that you weren't welcome on this expedition when you'd started ㅡ even more so when they'd had the audacity to grab at you with enough force to bruise your skin.

You aren't Illyrian, and so perhaps the thought had been that you would be weak, made more vulnerable in unfamiliar territory ㅡ but you'd proven them wrong when you'd sank your dagger into the gut of one of them, wrenched yourself free, and promptly taken off with the speed of a frightened stag.

You know they could track you if they really tried, but with the snow that pelts from above and the darkening sky, you doubt they'll risk it. But you're facing a bigger problem now ㅡ you have no idea how to get back.

"Fuck," you whisper to yourself, teeth clenched to keep from chattering. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

If it weren't so goddamned cold, you would've been paying better attention. If you hadn't been chased off by a handful of alphahole males with superiority complexes, you wouldn't even be out here in the first place.

Which is why, you suppose, all you can feel is surprise as the ground underneath you gives way with the cracking snap of loose rock and earth. It doesn't give you time to react as you lose your balance, plummeting gracelessly down into the abyss below what'd apparently been a drop off.

Your body bounces once, twice ㅡ then your head rebounds off sharp stone, impact making your ears ring before silent black consumes you.

Something is wrong.

Azriel can feel it, an undercurrent of tension that thrums in his veins like a second heartbeat. This entire place makes him uneasy, the churn of memories from his own time here as a child that reminds him why he avoids this place at all costs when he can.

But Rhysand had been adamant that he and Cassian make sure things were going well here, and you'd gone along to offer what support you could. Azriel appreciated the intent, but the way you'd been eyed by more than a few of the other males had set him on edge even further.

Cassian eyes him with a mixture of amusement and sympathy at the fact that he's just shy of pacing. Movement at the edge of his peripheral catches his attention, and he turns ㅡ it's the group you'd gone to scout the steppes with.

And, he notes with a fresh spike of fear to his stomach, you're not with them.

Azriel is moving before he truly registers it, eyes flicking from one face to another, fury rising like the maelstrom howling in the moutains beyond. "Where is she."

One of them has the audacity to scoff, and Azriel's blood boils as his shadows writhe, clamoring for bloodshed. Right now, he'd have no qualms about ripping every single one of them to pieces. His siphons blaze. "Tell me where [Name] is. Now."

One of them sneers. His arm is slung over his stomach, stemming the spill of blood from a wound to his stomach. Azriel hopes that you're the one who gave it to him. "She took off."

Azriel snarls, wings snapping out before he throws a rough, "Deal with them before I do" to Cassian before he's in the air and off in the direction they'd come from.

The only reason you know you aren't dead is because everything hurts. Pain radiates from everywhere, from the tips of your toes to your scalp ㅡ but you're alive.

You're not certain if you're relieved or not. A quick tentative flex of your hands is first, then your neck, your back ㅡ and you hiss a sharp curse when white-hot agony starbursts from your left ankle.

It takes longer than you care to acknowledge to sit up enough to assess it ㅡ grimacing at the swollen flesh, bruised an interesting shade of purple.

Fuck.

There's no way you're going to get out of here, not like this. Frustration mixed with fear prompts the rise of tears to your eyes, and you grit your teeth against a sob.

You're going to die out here. And there's nothing you can do about it. You doubt those alphaholes told anyone what happened and while you know Cassian and Azriel will look for you, they won't know where to look.

You stifle another choked sob, then still at the sound of movement. Of course some wild animal would take advantage, you're an easy meal ㅡ

"[Name]," a voice calls from behind you, so Cauldron-blessedly familiar that it has you struggling to turn, raw hands scrabbling for purchase to haul you upright.

You don't know how your ankle bears your weight or how you don't immediately collapse back to the ground ㅡ all you care about is lurching into the Illyrian male's arms with a ragged call of his name. "Azriel."

How he found you is beyond you, but his arms are around you, warding off some of the chill as he takes on most of your weight. He doesn't ask what happened, and you don't ask what you look like. The way his grip tightens on you answers how he feels about both.

He's still gentle as he lifts you up, flinching when you still hiss in pain. And then you're airborne, cradled carefully against him. Pain and exhaustion make your eyelids heavy as you nestle against Azriel's neck, the subtle shift of his head against yours following you into sleep.

When you wake next, it's to the crackle of a fire and the warmth of dry clothes. Sitting up is still a challenge, and dried blood flakes beneath your touch when you bring your fingers to the tender throbbing of your temple.

"You're awake." You look up to see Azriel standing in the doorway. You've been around him enough to read him, the unspoken relief in his eyes as he approaches. "You don't have to worry about that group of warriors," he tells you, "Cassian and I handled it."

The gleam to his eyes turns wicked and cruel, and you have no doubts how he and Cassian handled it. It doesn't make you feel better. You look away, studying the blanket over your legs.

"They had a point," you mumble, hating the weak rasp to your tone. "I shouldn'tㅡ"

"Give people like that any kind of weight to the words they say," Azriel cuts in sharply. "Because they're wrong. Just because you aren't Illyrian doesn't mean you're not strong."

When you still won't look at him, Azriel approaches you and reaches, calloused fingers coaxing your head up to meet his gaze.

"You still deserve better, Az," you mumble. Azriel's eyes narrow, flashing before he's leaning down to press his lips to yours. The kiss is rough, demanding ㅡ and then he pulls away enough to look at you, eyes blazing.

"I don't want better," Azriel answers, voice low. "Because there isn't. I just want you."

Your lips tremble before you're kissing him again, softer and sweeter. "You have me, Az," you mumble.

"And you have me," he answers, quiet enough that only you can hear him. "Now and forever."

[katzu919]

okau so this idea randomly came to mind so if requests r still open may i request a one of tartaglia’s little brother whos the reader. The reader even being younger than tartaglia he could be around (18-20), he ended up falling into the abyss like tartaglia, it felt as if it was years for reader in the abyss but was maybe only a couple hours. tartaglia finds out about this and hunts down his brother and comforts him since he knows what its like in the abyss. idk if this makes sense but take ur time :) , ive seen ur page floating around for a while now and just ended up following u lmao

call of the abyss

Ajax had returned to Snezhnaya after being abroad for work. Ajax’s brother, Y/n had just turned eighteen and Ajax got to celebrate it just a few days late. Y/n and his friends went out to celebrate him finally becoming an ‘adult’.

“Oh come on!” One of his friends nudged his arm. “The night barely began!” His friends laughed. They had been hanging out in an old fort they’ve had since their younger years. The old building somehow surviving the harsh weather of Snezhnaya for multiple years.

“I promised my brother I wouldn’t stay out too late so we could hang out. And he’s rarely home and I don't want to waste this time I have with him.” He replied as I stood up from the wood plank he was sitting on.

“It’s fine man, we get it.” His other friend replied. They sat higher up, looking down on Y/n. “You good to walk home by yourself? I think we’re going to stay out.” Y/n nodded his head and crossed his arms, and annoyed look crossed his face.

“Yes I can. I’ve walked the path many times, I don’t even live far.” He huffed as he made his way out of the fort. His friends laughed at his reply as he slowly made his way towards his home.

The snow crunching beneath his feet as the wind started to pick up a bit. Y/n groaned as he pulled his coat tighter to himself. Snow started to blow up around him making it hard to see anything but a few feet in front of him. His breath started to fasten as panic set in a bit. How did the weather change so drastically so quickly? The wind pushed him around as his surroundings started to become less familiar. Did he get turned around? He swore he never changed the direction he was walking in. Did the wind slowly push him in another direction? His breath started to become more panicked but before he could take another step the floor fell beneath his feet. All at once he was falling into darkness, the wind and snow no longer anywhere to be seen or heard.

Absolutely silent.

When Y/n stopped falling he hit the ground with a groan. He didn’t know how long he was falling or even how he survived the fall. He slowly got up, his hands shaking a bit as he slowly took in his surroundings. Blue and purple surrounded him, stars littered the dark sky above him. Where was he and how was he going to get out? The hairs on the back of Y/n’s neck rose as he heard the faint sound of something making its way over. He quickly stood up, his legs and arms shook as he did so. He pushed through as he slowly ran away from whatever seemed to make its way over, not too keen on meeting the inhabitants of this strange land.

-

Y/n wasn’t sure how much time passed since he fell down here. Time seemed to move differently than it did back in Snezhnaya. Was he even in Teyvat anymore? He didn’t know. It felt like months he’s been here but his body didn’t seem to reflect that. He hadn’t felt hungry, thirsty, or tired since he fell, however long ago that was now.

The creatures that roamed this land were much different from the ones he saw up in Snezhnaya. They could use the elements without visions, or at least he didn’t think they had any. He never stayed around long or close enough to see any so as far as he was concerned they didn’t. He was determined to stay undetected as long as he could, not sure how long it would be before he could make it back to Snezhnaya, or if he even could. But sadly his presence was eventually found by the creatures and beings from this place. He ran and ran, seeking a place to hide and wait for them to stop searching for him. Y/n was even more cautious now, looking over his shoulder constantly. Scared what would happen if they happened to get their hands on him.

Oh god, his family. How long has it been? Did they think he was dead? lost to the snow, frozen somewhere? Attacked by some creature? His heart ached at the thought of what his family must be going through.

Y/n slowly curled up, trying to silent his sobs. He just wanted to go home. And as if Celestia heard his wish, he felt the cold wind of Snezhnaya blow against his back. Snow falling onto his head. He lifted his head, his tired eyes open to see the white snow that covered the land. A sob broke through him as he quickly got up but quickly froze when he heard the sound of snow crunching under someone’s feet.

-

Y/n was supposed to be home hours ago. Ajax looked at the clock, a pit formed in his stomach. Something was off. He got up from where he was sitting in the living room and walked to the front door. He grabbed his coat and left the house silently, not wanting to disturb his sleeping family.

The air was quiet as he made his way towards where Y/n was supposed to be with his friends. The farther Ajax walked, the pit in his stomach grew deeper. Something about the air seemed off. Seemed to set off warning bells in his head.

The abyss. It all came rushing back. Ajax hurried his steps, hoping what he feared was not true. That you were safe and sound. Just as his panic started to grow more, he saw a figure sitting in the snow. The familiar figure stopped all the thoughts in his head as he stopped and stared. He hesitated for just a moment before he started to rush in his brother’s direction.

Y/n flinched when Ajax got close, his heart breaking. The fear in his brother's eyes as they might. Ajax stopped in his tracks, his heart felt like it broke into a million pieces. Ajax slowly kneeled down and opened his arms, his brother only hesitating for a moment before throwing himself at Ajax. Y/n craved the touch of someone after being alone for so long. He sobbed into Ajax should as he shushed him.

“Shh, shh, it’s alright. I got you.” Ajax whispered into his brother's hair. Anger started to form in Ajax. Why did his brother have to go through this? What did he do to deserve falling into the abyss?

Ajax slowly stood up with his brother in his arms. Carry him like he did when Y/n was just a baby. He rubbed Y/n’s back in soothing motions as he slowly started to walk home.

“It’s okay, we’ll get through this.” Ajax whispered to him as they walked away from the pit in the ground, oozing with an evil that Ajax hated with all his heart.

Hello! I kinda forgot how to write while writing this… hope it’s not noticeable. I’m also trying to like my writing style and be happy with it and not just quitting when i’m not instantly in love with it :p. i also write this in one sitting… anywhooo i also set up a ko-fi but do not feel like you have to send anything!! my writing is completely free and for fun (as much fun as trying to write with writers block is). Im not to sure how the abyss works even after reading through the wiki so i probably got something wrong but who cares and im also behind in the main story quest…. i’m not actually sure if people reads these notes but sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes.

[narcissisticmf]

swim | benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

description: on your honeymoon, you and benedict decide to have a picnic beside a lake, which leads to his desire for a swim.

trigger warnings: nudity, seductive behavior, fluff, suggestive/implied smut, etc. please do not proceed in reading if you are under the age of 18. thank you.

word count: <1k

The sun was setting as you and Benedict were laying against a blanket, against the soft grass. You gently ran your fingers across the greenery amongst the ground, letting it tickle your fingertips. Your eyes grew weary as you gazed at the thin clouds in the orangey, pink sky.

In front of a babbling river stream, you listened to the soft movements in the water. Fish popping up here and there and water running across a line of rocks. You were wearing a long, floral sun dress.

"If I had the choice to stay here forever, I think I would," You admitted in a sigh.

Benedict's lips curved into his famous lopsided grin, you could hear it without even looking in his direction. "Me too," He agreed. He was sitting up with his hands folded, arms around his bent legs. "I don't suppose you'd wanna go for a swim?" Benedict grinned cheekily and poked your side, making you chuckle softly.

You turned to look up to him with blown out pupils. He was mesmerized by your beauty as you laid there so comfortably.

"I would hate to ruin your moment of peace and tranquility.." Benedict started and moved so he could hover over you, his free hand holding himself up on the other side of you. You were trapped beneath him now as he lowered his head to gently kiss your jawline. "But.." He breathed out, "I'd like to go for a swim with you."

"I must admit," You smiled. "You are very persistent, it is hard to say no."

"So is that a yes?" Benedict smiled, pulling his head back to stare at you lovingly. His other hand cupped your face, caressing the apple of your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

You nodded softly as he smiled like a school boy, rising to his feet as he begun to remove his clothing. You laughed as he was acting so frantic to get out of his attire, as though the water would dry out if the two of you hadn't been quick enough.

"Ben!" You laughed as he struggled to get his shoes off. "You can slow down, the water isn't going anywhere!"

Benedict smiled as soon as he became fully undraped, scurrying across the soft grass to leap into the cool water. You watched him with so much glee in your eyes. You took your time removing your dress, corset and stockings, as well as your boots. You laid all your clothes onto the blanket once you were completely uncladded.

"Come on, Mrs. Bridgerton!" Benedict smiled as his head was aboved the water, waving his hands so you would follow him.

"Is it cold?" You asked on your way toward the water.

"Refreshing," He grinned as he watched you jump in, splashing his face with the water lightly. He was laughing.

You kicked your feet to the surface of the water and smiled widely, so much so that your cheeks begun to sore. The water was cool against your skin, utterly perfect and — as Benedict described — refreshing.

His arms snuck around your waist as yours fell, resting across his shoulders and upper back. You let your nose brush against his cheek as your faces were centimeters apart.

"I never noticed.." He whispered, dreamily.

"What?" You smiled.

Once he noticed you were caught off guard, he smiled mischievously and lifted your waist tossing you further back into the water. He was cackling loudly as you yelped as soon as you hit the water again.

"You idiot!" You scolded once you resurfaced.

"Aww.. what're you to do, darling? Gonna tell my mother?" Benedict pulled his lips into a forced frown.

"I very well just might!" You grumbled.

Benedict couldn't take you serious as he swam towards you, smiling brightly.

"No, stay over there," You pushed the water to splash his face. He was laughing as he wiped his eyes with one hand and snuck the other around your waist lowly. He moved his hand from his face and held you tightly with both arms.

"You're absolutely adorable when you're frustrated," Benedict whispered into your ear as his hands moved down to your bum, gripping your cheeks softly. You sucked in a sharp breath, eyes wide.

"Benedict," You whispered, squeezing his shoulders.

"What? I'm just appreciating your body," He snickered, with that most beautiful crooked smile.

You returned a smile and cupped his face, putting your lips to his softly. A rumble of thunder was heard in the distant skies, but that didn't stop either of you from pulling away. Out of nowhere, grey clouds darkened the sky and rain began to pour, hitting the tops of your heads with high pressure.

Pulling back from Benedict's kiss, you looked up at the sky with parted lips. He did as well, but his gaze at the dark clouds didn't last very long. He looked back to you and pressed warm kisses to your exposed neck, making you smile dreamily. Your fingers tangled in his wet hair, breathing softly.

"We should probably go back to the house," You muttered in a whisper.

Benedict smiled against your skin and you knew there was no stopping him now; and you were comfortable with that.

.

a/n: this is the cutest thing i think i've ever written 🥺 i love it so much!! i hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i had fun writing it! if you'd like more bridgerton content, PLEASE let me know! i'd love to write more for this fandom! thank you so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed! be safe, my darlings. <33 — angelina.

[water-to-drink]

Be a Gladiolus in a Field of Belladonnas pt10

Tree Hugger

(Summary): After narrowly escaping detection from the Natlan army it seems that the one from before has caught up with you and company

Part 1 Last Part Next Part

✧ Masterlist ✧

(Characters): Traveler!Lumine, Paimon, Abyss Prince!Aether, Childe, and ???

(Tags/Warnings): gn!reader, potentially bad fight scene, potentially ooc, potential inaccurate descriptions of Natlan, (lmk if I missed anything)

(Word Count): 2.1k

You ran until the layer of snow became thinner and the crunch beneath your shoes resonated less and less. of a heatwave. You ran until the sun that was once rising now sets and paints the sky with a beautiful mixture of red, orange, and purple. You ran despite your feet hurting beyond belief, but the adrenaline kept you pushing forward. You ran despite your lungs burning hotter and a summer day in the midst

Your feet become heavy and your movements became almost sluggish, it seems that Lumine has noticed this

Lumine looks over her shoulder towards you but you see her looking over you and her eyes widen in horror. You look in the same direction and your heart dropped. Just far into the distance you spotted the same jaguar like mask you saw back in Snezhnaya coming at you full speed

“Guys, someone’s found us!” Lumine yelled as she quickly pushed you behind her and summoned her sword

Your assailant summons their weapon, a long wooden claymore lined with pieces of sharp obsidian blades. They swung it at the traveler who expertly dodged the attacks. When Lumine swings her sword the masked individual blocks it with a shield decorated with colorful feathers. They lift up their club to strike Lumine but Aether comes in and stops the attack

The two fall into a familiar rhythm of fighting the attacker and covering the other, Lumine making swings with her right hand whilst Aether does the same with his left hand

The assailant takes out a cord with 3 balls tied to the ends of it and they swing it above their head before throwing it. The string entangles itself around Lumine’s ankles making her fall to the ground. Aether looks at Lumine to ensure she’s okay

“Aether watch out!” Lumine warns

The prince turns around to see their attacker about to deal a blow, but they put up their shield to block the hydro infused arrows, however some water splashes onto them

Seeing the opportunity Aether throws a few lightning strikes towards the assailant to stun them

Childe uses his hydro vision to make a pair of blades and charges at them. Still in a daze the attacker couldn’t react in time to block the slices dealt by the ginger

Lumine finally was able to untangle herself from the bolas

“Childe get down!” Lumine warned and she blasted a large cryo attack at the assailant, freezing them in place

Finally getting their bearings the masked individual puts their hands up in defeat. “I admit defeat, I expected nothing less from the three of you.” They finally spoke

“Who are you?” Aether said while pointing his sword at their neck

Their hands slowly make their way behind their head to remove the mask from their face. You spot two rounded ears covered in a rosette pattern, yellow eyes with slits in the pupils, and short reddish hair

“Oh my god!” You shouted out in surprise. “Wait, who are you?”

“I’m the high priestess in Natlan, Chimalma, I aid the mighty warriors in various thing, but that’s a topic for some other time.” Chimalma introduced herself

“Why should we trust you, for all we know you could have alerted your forces about us.” Aether asked still untrusting of the supposed high priestess

“I know what happened between you and the Raiden Shogun, her seeing your golden blood.” They stated matter of factly. “I also know that the Fatui has been searching for these ‘primogems’, but you haven’t had any luck finding more.”

“How do you know that?!” Lumine asked as she and Childe got in front of you ready to protect you in a moment’s notice

“I don’t mean to bring harm to their Grace, we only wish to help you on your journey.”

“Wait, ‘we?’ Who else is with you?” You asked

“Chimalma wouldn’t have known about your situation if a little birdie hadn’t told her.” A voice replied, you turned your head to see the iconic long pink hair with pink ears drooping because of heavy gold earrings with purple gems, one earring holding an electro vision

“Yae?!” You, Lumine, and Paimon shouted in unison

“Why hello your Grace.” The Guji greeted

“Wh-why are you here?! And how did you know that I’m not the imposter?!”

“Well the Shogun puppet came to the shrine one day and told me about the incident, she even told me about despite Ei seeing your blood but she was forced to raise her blade against you.” You saw Yae’s usual playful expression uncharacteristically turn into one of pain. “I apologize for our little priestess’ brash behavior earlier, I will deal with them later.”

“Wait, I understand where she learned the incident with Ei but how did she learn about the Fatui?!”

“It’s simple,” Chimalma said as she raised her hand out and a blue hummingbird flew over and perched itself her hand. “I had spies watching.”

“Birds talk here?!” You gasped in shock

“They do but only a chosen few can understand them. Soon you’ll understand them.”

“We need to head out soon, it’s getting late and do something about your clothes.” Yae looks over her shoulder and made a little gesture with her hand, a decent sided wooden carriage pulled by animals you don’t recognize and two men dressed in what you assumed to be Natlan clothing come out of the carriage. The twin instantly get in front of you at the sight of the men, sensing your nervousness they give Yae the box and kneel down before you

“Just as Lady Chimalma said, we don’t mean to bring you any harm.” One stated

“We would rather see that our end is met by your hands if you see us as untrustworthy .” The other continued

“No, you’re good. I’m not killing anyone except my doppelganger.” You reassured them

“Natlan warriors are an intense bunch.” Yae said as she walks towards you with the wooden box. “I know it’s not much but it’s all that we could find in such a short period.” Yae opens the box to reveal 7 Primogems

You take the gems and they disappear into a glittery blue dust very reminiscent of a nebula in space. You felt a tiny bit of power course through your arm and up to your chest causing an involuntary shiver racks through your body

“Whoa, I actually felt something this time.” You chuckled

“That’s good to hear, but I know a more effective method to getting your old powers back.”

“Really? What is it?” Paimon asked

“We need to go to Natlan for that.” Chimalma said as she melted the ice trapping her feet in place

“Don’t worry, little one. I will ensure your safety.” Yae said putting her hand on your shoulder in a gesture of reassurance. “However, before we enter Natlan’s boarder’s you all need to change into something less eye catching.” Yae said gesturing to your clothes

The Guji snapped her fingers and the two men go back into the carriage and bring out various clothing items, they present them to you and company

“You have to change out of your clothes to avoid suspicion.” Yae advised

You and the others quickly put on the disguises which consisted of a thick cloth shirt, leggings with a rosette pattern similar to the one that Chimalma has on her ears, and a wooden helmet carved in the shape of a bird, but you were told that could be put on later when in Natlan. Now you resembled the two men clothing wise, you all were ushered into the carriage and settled in. There was only enough room for you and Miko to sit on one side while the others sat right in front of you. The carriage began to make the long journey from Snezhnaya to Natlan, maybe the fact that you were finally stationary in hours because you found yourself dozing off and you almost rested your head on Yae’s shoulder

“You look tired, my dear. Why don’t you rest a little for now.” Yae smiled as she patted her thighs inviting you to lay your head on them

“Oh! A-are you sure, don’t want to impose…” You stuttered out as heat rushes to your face

“Nonsense, you need all the rest you can get, remember you have a long journey ahead of you.”

“If you say so.” You said and laid your head down in her lap. Yae’s lap felt like heaven, you don’t know if it’s due to the fact that you’ve slept in a cave and spent the whole day running but her thighs were spiritually healing. You were so preoccupied with the comfort you were experiencing you completely missed the death glares thrown at Yae, who in turn smirked triumphantly

The next thing you feel is Yae gently shaking you awake, you sat up and in your groggy state you looked around and remembered where you are.

“We’re here.” Chimalma said as you all got out of the carriage and looked at the beautiful landscape. “Welcome to the nation of pyro, Natlan.”

“How did we get here that fast?” You asked in amazement

“It’s a secret~” Yae said holding her finger in front of her smirking lips

You look around to see reddish orange mountains with various paintings on them. A tap on your shoulder brings your attention towards Yae

“It isn’t safe to be out there for too long without your mask.”

You put on the wooden helmet and followed Yae and Chimalma who lead you and company to a tree with parts of its bark a glowing shade of blue

You see the two hybrids looking at you and the tree expectantly

“Ohh! Uhh, how do I ‘resonate’ with the tree?” You asked

“The same way our dear traveler resonates with the statues of the seven, by touching them.” Yae answered

You hesitantly extends your hands and rest your finger tips on the tree. After a while your tense shoulders slowly relax and you press your palms on the bark. The moment you spot the blue parts of the tree start glowing brighter than before you instantly withdrew your hands. The soft giggles from Yae drew your attention towards the Guji, she takes your hands and leads them back to the tree

“Relax, just concentrate on connecting with the tree.”

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, focusing on the tree you feel power and warmth course through you. You take your hands off the tree and open your eyes to see the blue parts glowing brightly

“So how do you feel?” Lumine asked

“That was intense, but other than that I feel the same.” You replied

“Summon some fire!” Chimalma urged

You hesitantly held out your dominant hand and imagined a flame coming out from your hand and once the image comes into your mind a decently sized fire envelopes your hand. Surprisingly the flame doesn’t hurt you and after a while the flame dies down into nothing

“Whoa, so the way for their Grace to regain their powers is to touch these trees, kinda like Lumine with the statues of the seven?” Paimon asked as she rubbed her chin

“Very intuitive little one, as to why it works for the Ley Lines instead of the statues I do not know.” Yae explains

You spot Aether wanting to say something but stopping himself from doing so, you stopped yourself from prying so to not make the situation awkward

“Now that we’re done here, let’s go time is of the essence.” Yae begins to walk away from the tree

“Wait before you go,” Chimalma said as she knelt down before you. “take this sword with you.” You took the sword and take it out of its sheath to examine it, a brown hilt leading to a blade with similar blue stripes as the tree you just resonated with

“Why are you giving their Grace a sword?! They have us to protect them!” Aether stated also offended at the implication that he and Lumine aren’t enough to protect you

“You never know and besides it’ll help jog up some memories.”

“I think you’re mistaken, I’ve never held a sword like this before.” You said

“Maybe in this life, but in your old life definitely. Everything that the old pyro archon knew, you taught it to them.”

You held the sword and felt something stir inside you and put it back in its sheath

“I’ll hold you to that statement.” You said

“I promise it’ll come in handy.”

You waved Chimalma goodbye and walk back to the carriage. Mentally preparing yourself for your next destination

The land of electro, Inazuma

Taglist:

@chuuya-brainrot @creation-magician @tartarsaucechi1de @vvyeislazzy @kokomisimpppp @aludicpoet @undecidingfate @annoying-mary @randomnatics @ventixthexanemoxarchon @bore2808 @lizzhearthz @ bidisasterforevermore @dxprived4-starboys @angstylittleb1tch @esthelily @yurivision @angelamelamela @d4y-dr3am3r @blackcoffex @not-the-shroom @raffaelo4ka @rebeccawinters @lhaol @artwitchh @imyme20 @nymphsdomain @sun7flowxr @itz-luna @flowerypesky @ghost-mint @mmmhyperfixation @legendaryexperthideout @lapinaenmicoche @sinsdumbdrabble @land-of-eternity @deathcvltcivilofficial

[carefreecoffee]

Flufftober Day 16: Stargazing w/ Bakugou Katsuki

Word-count: 1.1k, Gender-neutral reader

Bakugo was more cryptid today than ever. You were curious as to why his facade had differed from usual until he had told you to dress night for an impromptu date night. You weren't one to say no because it wasn't everyday you two would have the free time to actually set something up as such.

As soon as you were dressed, Bakugou met you at your dorm, taking your hand as he kept an elusive notion as to where you two would be going. It was a warm day out, the sun being ever so present among the falling horizon.

The sky was a vast purple as the stars began to show. As you two had reached the start of a paved pathway, Bakugou stopped, untangling his hand from yours and pulling a blindfold from within his pocket.

“Turn around” The demand of his gruff voice was enough for you to nod and turn around to let him tie the fabric around your head.

“What's all this, Kats?” Your vision was now fully obscured as you felt an arm snake around your waist protectively.

“ ‘s a secret, dummy”

You feel your heart rate pick up at the thought of him actually planning out a surprise just for the two of you. Bakugo walked confidently beside you, gently holding your waist to guide you along the path without the use of vision.

He had a specific destination in mind, and every step he took was calculated to lead you there safely. His grip on your waist was firm yet gentle, reassuring you that he had everything under control.

Eventually, he stopped walking, and you could feel him positioning you in front of him. He leaned closer, his breath warm on your ear as he spoke in a low, hushed tone.

"Now, no peeking. This is a surprise." You nod as excitement begins to fill your veins with each breath you take.

He reached up to adjust the blindfold, ensuring that it was secure and there was no way you could peek.

"Good, now hold my hand."

As the two of you continued walking, the once hardened ground gradually gave way to the softness of the grass beneath your shoes. The blades of grass grazed your ankles, swaying gently with each step. The night had fully settled, and the sky was now a canvas of twinkling stars, scattered like diamonds across the dark canvas.

Bakugo gently guided you along the path until finally, he stopped for the last time that night. You could sense that you had reached your destination.

He stepped behind you, "Alright, you can open your eyes now," Bakugo whispered, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

His hands rested lightly on your shoulders, and as you lifted the blindfold, you were greeted by the sight of a clearing in the middle of the forest. The grass beneath your feet was slightly shorter than that of the path, and in the center was a blanket spread out. A wicker basket sat next to it.

You look behind you and up into his eyes as you gleam, “Katsuki! What’s all of this?”

You can't seem to control your happiness as you look back down to the arrangement and up to the sparkling stars periodically. He could see the sparkle in your eyes, mirroring the stars above. He led you over to the blanket and gestured for you to sit down.

"Well, I figured it was high time for a proper date." He said, a hint of nervousness in his usually gruff voice. He opened the basket and started pulling out the contents, arranging them on the blanket. You sit next to him, still gawking at the gesture

“Look at you being all romantic, Mr.Lord explosion murder” Bakugo let out a huff, an almost embarrassed gruff sound as he rolled his eyes at your jab. But beneath the gruff exterior, a slight flush betrayed the fact that your comment had some effect.

"Tch, shut up, I can be romantic if I want to," he muttered, unpacking the food from the basket. You lean up to peck his cheek before nodding, “You sure can, Kats,” You can't help but fawn over the view, “The stars look so beautiful tonight…”

Bakugo grumbled, the flush on his cheeks deepening as you pecked his cheek. He averted his gaze, but a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"Yeah, they do…" He mumbled, his eyes drifting up towards the night sky. The stars twinkled above you, a myriad of points of light that glittered against the backdrop of the endless black night. As the evening wore on, the conversation between you and Bakugo continued effortlessly, their discussion flowing from one topic to another.

The night sky stretched above you, its inky blackness accentuated by the brilliant light of the stars. The peacefulness and tranquility of the setting enveloped the moment, providing a chance to truly appreciate each other's company away from the rest of the world.

You had gotten comfortable, filled with his delicious cooking, outstretching your arms, laying back on the blanket that had accompanied you. Bakugo's eyes followed your movements as you laid back on the blanket, a small smirk playing on his lips. He scooted closer, laying down next to you, his shoulder brushing against yours.

He mimicked your pose, resting his hands on his stomach, his fingers fiddling subconsciously with the fabric of his shirt.

You look over at him, “This was a really good idea, Kats. Thank you for bringing me out here” Bakugo turned his head to meet your gaze, his eyes softening as he looked at you. The usual stern expression on his face gave way to a softer, more vulnerable look, one that was reserved for you and you alone.

"You're welcome dummy," he replied softly, his hand grazing yours, a subtle gesture of affection.

"I… I wanted tonight to be special." You scooch over, leaning your head against this shoulder tenderly. “And you succeeded.” He looked down at you, his eyes meeting yours in a brief moment of eye contact. He was used to being strong and stoic, but in your presence, his walls came down, and a softer side of him emerged.

"Yeah…" He mumbled, his hand finding yours, intertwining your fingers together. After a bit of stargazing and pointing out random shapes within the vast area you sigh, leaning down to rest your head against his chest. Bakugo's arms encircled you as you leaned your head against his chest, finding comfort in the steady rise and fall of his breathing. His fingers traced gentle patterns along your back, the touch feather-light and soothing.

As you both sat in silence, the sounds of the night filled the air. The crickets chirped, their melody mingling with the rustling of leaves in the trees, creating a peaceful atmosphere that wrapped around you like a comforting blanket.

[runninriot]

Say My Name (I Need Reminding)

written for @steddiesongfics

song: say my name by cassyette | wc: 2.333 | rated: M | cw: blood, injuries, near death | tags: post vecna, everybody lives, pre steddie, friends to lovers | also on ao3

His head hurts, pounding relentlessly like something’s trying to crack his skull open.

    Eddie! the voice inside calls again, ringing in his ears, broken and desperate.

He doesn't know who that name belongs to. Doesn't know the one whose voice he keeps hearing like the echo of a ghost of the past, as if it's trying to remind him of something he forgot, something he should remember.

He wishes he would, wishes he knew how to unlock those memories that seem to be trapped somewhere in the bottomless abyss that is his mind. Memories hidden behind flickers of red light and glistening flashes of white - the blurred faces that refuse to come into focus, names that sit on the tip of his tongue, hands he can almost feel but are too far out of reach.

Everything is lost in dreamlike sequences that feel like before never really existed at all. But he knows it must have, can’t shake the feeling that there's someone out there that knows what happened to him. Someone who could answer all these questions that have been gnawing at him since the moment he opened his eyes - scared and alone, lost in a place he didn't recognise, with his clothes torn to shreds, overcome with agonising pain in every part of his body.

All he remembers is the sight of the bloodstained, mangled mess that was his body. The gaping wounds at his sides, the dark red on his hands, the white bone sticking out from the ripped apart flesh on his leg. He remembers the nauseating smell of death and decay surrounding him, clinging to him as if he himself was the one slowly rotting away.

He should’ve died then and there, succumbing to the pain and the loss of blood, to the way his insides had spilled to the outside – but to some cruel twist of fate, he didn’t.

Instead, as if blessed by the hand of God herself, granting him a second chance he hadn’t asked for, his body decided to stitch itself back together. Undoing what had happened to him – whatever it was. He’s not sure what he is, if he’s really alive or something else. Something he can’t name because he doesn’t have the words, lost them somewhere along the way of falling and rising again.

He knows nothing much at all.

Only that he needs to find whatever it is that pulls him, drives him to walk and wander, on and on, moving like a shadow through this wasteland he’s trapped in. Unoriented, lost, his inner compass broken.

    Eddie.

A name and a voice he doesn’t recognise the only guidance through this dark, empty space.

-----

Somewhere in the distance a light appears in his view, faint and red, drawing him in like a moth to the flame, glowing brighter the closer he gets. And maybe he should stay away from it, maybe it’s a trap – but it’s the only glimmer of hope he has.

There’s a crack in the ground, glowing bright like flickering flames. Hellfire, his mind randomly offers, a word that shouldn’t bring him comfort, should make him shudder but soothes his nerves nonetheless.

    Eddie, the voice calls again, and this time he’s sure it’s coming from somewhere down there, below, calling for him out of the depths of whatever lies beneath his feet.

He steps forward, closer to the fleshy wound in the ground that’s pulsing like a beating heart, and he falls, flies?, tumbles like Alice through the rabbit hole, caught in a freefall – maybe for seconds, maybe for hours – until he lands ungracefully on his back.

The impact is harsh but instead of sending sparks of pain through his body, he feels like he can finally breathe again, like he’s been shaken awake from a state of half-consciousness. It’s still dark, but the air is fresh here, not stale and death-soaked like before. And when his eyes refocus, he finds the sky above him full of stars and the moon shining down on him, greeting him like an old friend.

    Eddie, come on!

He can hear the voice even clearer now, demanding his full attention, commanding him to follow its call. So, he scrambles off the ground to stand, not wasting much time to take in his surroundings, feet moving on autopilot as he wanders through barely lit streets, empty apart from a few stray cats that hiss when he passes before they run and hide in the shadows like they’re afraid of him, of what he is. A nameless shadow of a man resurrected from the death. A ghost, maybe?

There’s no time to dwell on it, to stop and think, to wonder – he has to keep moving, doesn’t know where to or why, just knows, feels, like it’s his only choice.

His movements are swift and fast, restless feet carrying him around corners and through alleys like they’re familiar with the place, like he’s been here before.

    Eddie, please.

The voice is desperate, pleading, thick with sorrow – it hurts, physically, as if someone’s cutting him with a knife, slicing him open to bleed him dry.

Like these things he suddenly remembers. Those flying critters with their tiny, sharp teeth that ripped him apart.

He remembers the noise, remembers their tails and wings and gaping mouths, their images morphing with blood, red, lightning, pain.

So much pain.

A name, a face, eyes glistening with tears – it’s all there, right in front of him but the image is blurred, still out of reach. He tries and runs, follows the voice, the call, the pull-

    EDDIE!

The world around him crumbles, fading away like a dream, darkness dissipating into white, glistening light as he feels like falling again. Weightlessly floating, like a leaf carried by a storm from one place to another. He can’t see, only feels the world shifting. Feels the cool night air change into something else, warmth encasing him like a blanket that feels too tight around his body, robbing him of his ability to move in almost suffocating manner. Squeezing tighter with every passing second, until no air is left in his lungs and silent darkness takes a hold of him again.

-----

When he comes to, his eyes are closed, lids suddenly feeling too heavy to open, brain sluggish and slow, too slow to realise what’s going on around him.

    I wish you could hear me.

A beeping sound mixes with the voice, faint but steady, like a high-pitched heartbeat that matches his own.

    Wish you could give me a sign, anything at all.

He tries. Wants to move or to speak but his arms and legs feel like their stuck, fingers and toes too stiff to even twitch, and the words he’s trying to say get stuck in his throat, forming a lump so big it’s hard to swallow around it.

Someone takes his hand, gentle fingers sliding into the gaps between his own, squeezing tightly. He can feel it, wishes he could squeeze back, wishes he could talk, wishes he could say ‘I am here.’

    I miss you, the voice whispers and he wonders if the words are truly meant for him. Because how can he be missed when he’s nothing but a nameless thing, unable to move or talk or breathe- why can’t he breathe?

His lids flutter open in shock, eyes wide and searching, trying to see through the foggy swirls and twinkling stars contorting his vision.

Slowly, so slowly, his vision clears, revealing a face, and two gentle eyes looking down at him.

   “Eddie! Oh my god, you’re awake!”

The words wash over him, settle somewhere in the back of his mind, slotting into place like a long-lost puzzle piece – he knows that name, that voice, that face-

    Steve?

Eddie remembers it all now, remembers the horrors, the chase, the fight. Remembers running, not away this time but towards his downfall. Remembers the tears and the cries, the delusional promises.

We’ll get you out. We’ll get you fixed. I won’t let you die!

If I survive this, I’m going to kiss you.

He remembers broad hands trying to hold his torn body together, strong arms wrapped around him as the world slowly blurred, lost shape and substance. He remembers Steve’s tear streaked face, dirty and bruised and sweaty, beautiful as ever – it was the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes, ready to face the consequences of his reckless behaviour.

Death didn’t seem like such a bad choice back then. To find relief from the agonising pain that made it nearly impossible to breathe. To just let his mind slip into blissful emptiness and leave his feeble remains behind just like his regrets, the meaningless hopes and unfulfilled dreams, the apologies yet outstanding and the love yet to find.

But apparently, Steve made true to his words. Because Eddie knows this isn’t a dream. He can feel the warmth of Steve’s hands on his own. Can see the tears collecting in the corner of his eyes. Can hear the deep breaths Steve takes. This is real.

   “I’m- I’m going to get a nurse.”

Steve loosens his grip, or he tries to, but it’s then Eddie’s muscles finally obey. He squeezes his hand, as tight as he can, a silent plea not to leave him. Not now. Not when he just found him again. Found himself in the other boy’s voice that gave him back his name.

   “S-stay.”

His own voice sounds wrong, hoarse from disuse, and it hurts to speak but it’s worth it because Steve listens and stays, settles back down on the chair next to the hospital bed.

   “What do you need?” He asks, a mix of concern and relief written on his features, a stray tear making its way down his cheek.

Eddie thinks for a moment; a glass of water would be nice, or someone to release him from the tubes in his nose and the needle in his hand. Something against the ache in his body he’s slowly becoming aware of. A hug, maybe?

   “You,” is what he says instead.

It’s all he needs right now. Just Steve’s presence and the weight of his hand on his own to ground him, to keep him here in the real world.

Steve smiles, tentatively but honest, and he huffs out a wet laugh, wiping his eyes with his free hand.

   “You got me. I’m right here.”

Eddie tries to mirror the smile but his lips are too dry and there’s something stuck to his cheek, pulling at his skin, causing him to hiss at the sting.

Steve’s up in seconds, hovering over him, his free hand now gently cupping his face.

   “Take it easy. You’ve been out for a few days and your wounds are- well, it’ll take some time to heal. But it’s going to be okay.”

   “Th-the others?” Eddie presses out, needs to know if they’re okay. Needs Steve to tell him they all made it out.

   “They’re fine. Or they will be. We all will.”

Eddie believes him, knows Steve wouldn’t lie to him, not about this. And for a while, they just look at each other, two sets of eyes searching for something in each other’s faces. Maybe for comfort or reassurance, maybe for something they both can’t name.

It’s quiet apart from the rhythmic beeping that’s trying to lull him to sleep. Eddie’s fighting it, trying hard to keep his eyes open; he’s been asleep for long enough.

   “You need to rest, Eddie,” Steve says, his voice warm and gentle, “I’ll be here when you wake up, I promise.”

And as if those words were all he needed, Eddie let himself drift, slowly giving into exhaustion and fatigue, sinking deeper into the mattress.

-----

   “Say it again.”

   “Eddie.”

   “Again, pleaaase?”

   “Eddie. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.”

Steve laughs and it’s the second best sound in the world, right after him saying his name. Doesn’t matter the context, although he does have a favourite version – when his voice is all soft and husky, dripping with lust and love when it’s just the two of them together, whispered like a secret only they know.

It’s been months since Eddie had made his way back from the dead. Months of medical treatments and therapy, of fighting to clear his name and reclaiming the life he had before it all went to shit.

Steve didn’t leave his side, helped him through the worst days and celebrated every little victory with him. Always there to catch him when Eddie thought of giving up. Always ready to offer comfort whenever he needed a shoulder to cry on. Always kicking his ass when he needed encouragement to keep going.

It wasn’t easy but Eddie pushed through, always with his own words in mind, waiting as a reward at the end of the line.

Eddie remembers the look in Steve’s eyes when he took his first steps without his crutches, still wobbly on his feet but determined to walk without help. How they both cried happy tears when Eddie stumbled into Steve’s open arms, hugging and laughing. And how, not for the first time, Eddie’s heart made a flip when Steve was so close, their faces mere inches apart, arms wrapped tight around each other’s waist – too close but still not close enough.

   “You’ve kept all your promises, so it’s only fair I keep mine.”

Steve’s eyes grew wide at those words, even wider when Eddie slowly leaned in.

   “Finally. I’ve been waiting forever.”

A smug smile tugged at his lips right before they clashed with Eddie’s, sharing breath and spit and confessions of the heart.

It’s been months and sometimes, Eddie still can’t believe that it’s real. That he’s alive and in love and loved in return. But just like before, when he was trapped in that dark state of mind, there’s a name as his compass, calling him home whenever he feels lost.

    Steve.

A voice, a face, and two hazel eyes he’ll always find his way back to.