𖤓 - Completed Series

Had my first shift at my new job today

Manager is already trying to overschedule me

and an old man grabbed my arm in the creepiest way possible - he squeezed it, that's not necessary 😭

hoping to have something posted for you guys tomorrow

the newlyweds

Pairing ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Logan Howlett x fem!reader (Flux)

a/n: I wrote this at 3 AM and I'm also pretty sure I'm sick, so bare with me. Based on this: ask

You know Logan can't stand you, but it doesn't stop the way you feel about him. Your mind recognizes the hate in his eyes whenever you're in the same room, but your heart can't. Finally, you come to terms with the truth: it's never gonna happen. However, your newfound resolve is flipped on its head when you're forced to go undercover with him as newlyweds. Your new wedding ring is a noose and you don't know how you'll survive it or him.

You stumble forward as someone knocks into you from behind. Their shoulder jams painfully into your ribcage and you trip into the wall in front of you. “Shit,” you hiss, rubbing your back and turning around to glare at whoever it was. You figure it's a kid skipping class, imagine your surprise when it’s a fully grown man practically growling at you. 

“Where the hell am I?” He darts forward, grabbing you by the arms and jerking you towards him. “Who are you people?” You’re stunned into silence, eyes wide with shock as he pushes your spine into the wall behind you. 

You recognize him now. This is the man who was with Rogue in the truck you, Ororo, and Summers rescued. The only reason you don’t toss him across the room and rip his spine out through his throat is because you know how disoriented he is. Though, with the way his claws threaten to pierce your skin, you are tempted to. 

“Ah,” a familiar and welcomed voice sounds out from beside you both. “I see you’ve met Flux.” Charles rarely ever uses your actual name, mainly introducing you through your X-Men persona. It’s a preference of yours. 

The man’s eyes dart between you and Charles, and your own turn into slits the longer he keeps his tight grip on you. “Wanna let me go now?” You demand voice practically a growl. Your patience has never been wonderful, but he’s really working on your last nerve. 

He blinks, seemingly coming back to himself. With an almost regretful look, he lets you go. You sigh in irritation, straightening your shirt out and shoving past the corner he’s pushed you into. “Who the hell is this?” You snap, moving to stand behind Charles. 

He gives you an apologetic look, “I’m not sure. He hasn’t introduced himself yet.” He gives the man an expectant look. Instead of answering he glances around, and scoffs. 

“What is this, summer camp? You people don’t need to know me, I don’t need to know you. Just show me how to get the fuck out, alright?” Finding Charles’ school had been heaven on earth. He’d provided you with a home and a haven you never thought you would have the privilege of. You’d never shown anger in the face of his guidance or generosity. But many have. 

You can tell, as much as the man in front of you might believe otherwise, he’s going to be enjoying the comfort of Charles’ protection soon. You move to the side, leaving them to their conversation. Instead, you focus on keeping the kids away from the newest form of entertainment. You usher them towards their classes, despite their reluctance. 

The other members of the team soon join you all, introducing themselves. “Storm, Cyclops,” he scoffs a little at Scott’s name and you feel a reluctant smile tugging at your lips. He turns towards you, brows furrowed inquisitively, “Flux?”

“Matter manipulation,” you explain bluntly. He shrugs his shoulders giving you a blank look. Sighing you hold out your hand and gesture to Charles’ desk. With a flick of your wrist, it melts into an unnatural form of liquid wood. Logan’s eyes widen and you can’t help but finally let the full smile form on your lips. “Flux was just what fourteen-year-old me thought fit best.”

He nods, turning back towards Charles with a smarmy grin. “And what do they call you, wheels?” Your eyes widen with shock and an unbidden laugh surges forth. Charles sends you a playful glare and you have to turn around to keep from laughing more. 

You’d thought you wouldn’t like this one. It’s always bad when there’s a member on the team you don’t get along with. It’s not common, but it has happened. They simply keep you separated if they can. The school is wonderful, but it’s not perfect. Not everyone will like each other. You think you and Logan will get along just fine, though.

It started slow, barely noticeable at first. You didn’t know him well enough to understand that the way he treats you is completely different from how he treats everyone else. Where your greetings are brushed off with cold shoulders or the occasional glare, others at the very least get a brief mumble of hello. When you speak, you can practically feel the irritation wafting off of him in waves. You taste his hatred in every interaction. 

There’s no exact moment you can pinpoint where you went wrong. Sure, your introduction to one another was rocky at best. But he’d nearly thrown Jean across the room when they first met and they got along just fine. 

You’ve thought about it, for far too long, about what makes you different than the others. Is it your smile? The pitch of your voice? Of course, you understand that sometimes there are just people that you meet and something inside you hates them. There’s never a true explanation behind the feeling, just instinct. 

But you can’t place what about you would make someone so guarded, so mean. It feels like such a childish word, like too simple of a way to explain Logan. The very least you know about him is that he can never be summed up with the word simple. There are secrets buried deep within him, some he knows, others he doesn’t. You can’t just slap a label on him and walk away. 

More often than not, though, you feel like you’re talking to one of your childhood bullies and not a team member. Because, despite your own feelings towards him, at the end of the day you are team members. There’s no getting around it. From that connection comes, what should be, a base level of respect. 

You’re both in charge of protecting one another and looking out for each other on the field. That means when you put on the suit, you’re putting aside petty grievances. But he seems incapable of that as well. 

You’ve spent mornings practicing your greetings, trying to tone down your cheeriness or inflect your voice with a more welcoming timbre. You’ve changed how you dress, how you do your hair, even your makeup. And at the end of it all, you still got the same miserable look and distinct feeling of worthlessness. All of the change has been temporary, you are a creature of habit. Inevitably, you slide back into the same habits and styles that make you, you. 

You feel stupid, trying to change yourself to better fit someone else's tastes. Especially when it’s someone who so clearly despises you. It’s not how you carry yourself, how you look, it’s the mere fact you exist that bothers him. At least, that’s the conclusion you’ve come to in all your months of experimenting. 

It truly shouldn’t bother you so much. There’s always going to be people who don’t like you. There’s nothing you can do about it. And you’ve never had that desire to change other's opinions on you. But something about Logan has dug its claws under your skin and has refused to let go. You can’t get him out of your head, even when you feel like you hate him, he’s all you think about. You’ve considered asking Jean to use her abilities to somehow dig him out of your brain and keep him out. But you don’t think that would work either. 

You step into the kitchen and nearly freeze in the doorway. Logan sits at the island, back to you as he reads the newspaper. You find yourself lightening your steps, quieting your breath. You make yourself as inconspicuous and convenient as possible. Every time you catch yourself doing something like this, you hate yourself just a little bit more. 

You shouldn’t have to alter parts of yourself to better fit someone else’s needs. You slip along the tiles, your socked feet slamming into the corner of the counter as you pass it. “Shit!” You shout, doubling over as you clutch your throbbing toes. 

So much for being inconspicuous. 

Logan’s head shoots up in shock as he glares over his paper at you. You let out a strained whimper, reluctantly releasing your foot and hobbling towards the coffee pot. You’ve taken more bullets than you count, and somehow that still hurt worse. 

You can’t just ignore him, you feel his stare burning into your back, and it feels too dickish-too much like him, to not say anything. “Morning,” you mutter over your shoulder, barely looking at him. You pour your coffee, trying to ignore how daunting the silence seems. You might as well be alone in the room for all the attention he’ll grant you. 

You feel like a beggar, on hands and knees just for a simple hello. Ever since his first night here, he’s been so aloof with you. It’s only devolved since then. You sigh, slamming the mug onto the counter. Something in you has snapped this morning and it’s not just the bones in your foot. You’re sick of this. 

You shouldn’t have to walk on eggshells around him. He’s not a toddler, he doesn’t deserve to be coddled and catered to. He’s a grown man, an X-Men for fuck’s sake. What he needs, is to learn a little emotional regulation. 

You turn, mouth open and sucking in a deep breath as you prepare your speech. The island is empty as you face it, his stool in the same place it had been while he was on it. The paper lies abandoned, even his nearly full mug is still on the granite. 

You scoff, snapping your jaw shut and rolling your eyes. “Jesus,” you mutter to yourself. Wonderful, even the same room is too much for him now. Something bitter has been forming in your mind. A rage building from weeks of unprompted cruel behavior. 

Yet, somehow, the thing that pushes you over the edge from interest to resentment is the fact that he didn’t say good morning back. 

You teach history at the school, but the majority of your role at the mansion is to train children with powers similar to yours. You’ve never met a mutant who had such a broad scope with their abilities as you do. Some can turn water to ice, control the blood running through someone’s veins, or make the air around them a solid block. But you’ve yet to meet one who manipulates anything with matter the way you do. 

Still, for training, you deal with the unreliable, untameable, and generally more dangerous abilities. And sometimes for training, you work with other teachers and let your kids practice on each other. It’s a rotating schedule, and unfortunately, the week you’ve decided you hate him, you’re partnered with Logan for training. 

You’ve got the entirety of Charles’ backyard, which is essentially the size of a football field. It’s a lot of room for accidents and accidental misfires. You stand in front of the pond, admittedly a risky choice with these kids, and direct them all to their partners. 

“Remember, the goal of this isn’t to maim each other,” you give a particularly pointed glare towards Billy. He’s caused a lot of problems lately with his fires. “It’s just to learn how to wield your abilities to your advantage, to protect yourself and your team.”

You look to Logan, seeing if he wants to add anything or contribute to the class in some way. He just keeps his arms crossed, glowering at all the children like he’s imagining skewering them on his claws. Rolling your eyes, you turn back to the kids. “Let's start with the hand-to-hand maneuvers we went over yesterday before we practice with our abilities.”

“Why don’t you show us?” Your head whips towards Billy and you can’t help the sneer on your lips. He’s sat on the ground, legs crossed leisurely over each other. He doesn’t have a care in the world as he taunts you. 

“What?” You grit out, glaring at him.

“Show us what a balanced fight should look like between mutants. You and Logan,” he nods to the aforementioned man. Logan just quirks a brow, glancing at you before turning back to Billy. 

“I don’t think-”

“Fine.” You gape at Logan as he tugs his jacket off. He shrugs as he looks at you, moving towards the middle of the field. Of course, he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to try and pummel you. You’re sure that he’s just been waiting for an excuse to fight you. 

“If that’s what you want,” you mutter bitterly. You pull off your sweatshirt and start walking towards him. 

“Your cuffs,” Billy calls out from behind you. The other students all watch the interaction with rapt attention. They’re practically salivating at the chance to see you two fight each other. Meanwhile, Billy just seems like he wants to see someone bleed. 

The metal cuffs around your wrists are the only thing that stops you from leveling the entire school. Your abilities are so tightly entwined with your emotions that one unlucky bout of anger can lead you to vaporizing everyone around you. They dull your abilities just enough to still be useful but not deadly. You haven’t taken them off in years. And perhaps it’s wrong to lean so heavily on them for protection, but you have. That’s your cross to bear. You don’t even want to picture what will happen if you open that dam. 

“What?” Billy shrugs, sending you a sharp smirk. “How are we supposed to trust you, if you can’t even use your own damn abilities?” He snorts and narrows his eyes at you, “How the hell did you even become an X-Men, Flux?” His name rolls off your tongue with a sharpened venom. 

He oozes hatred and a burning resentment that catches you off guard. It’s too much to process the insults he’s hurling at you and the sudden one-eighty in his personality. You don’t even hear Logan coming until his fist is wrapped in Billy’s collar and he’s yanking him off his feet. 

He dangles him, just a couple of inches, off the ground, teeth practically bared at the kid. “Wanna keep talking, mouth?” 

“Log-” You’re cut off as a fireball shoots out of Billy’s palm and explodes against Logan’s gut. You gasp, throwing up a wall in front of the other kids so it can’t hurt them. “All right,” you call out sternly. “Everyone inside,” you demand, pointing the other kids back towards the manor. 

You linger with Logan, who still has Billy dangling from his fist, only he looks even more pissed off now. Anyone else, and they’d be dust at Billy’s feet. But Logan isn’t anyone else and the only collateral seems to be his shirt. 

Not that you mind the view. 

Billy hasn’t been here long enough to know what Logan’s abilities are, though. You don’t think he actually knew he could heal. The thought alone is worrying enough that you don’t force Logan to let him go. “We need to get him to Charles,” when Logan doesn’t move you put more force behind your voice, “now.”

Logan lets out a low huff before placing Billy back on his own two feet. He doesn’t let him go far, though, keeping his hand around the back of his neck and dragging him forward. You follow behind them, making sure he doesn’t rip him to pieces before Charles can speak with him. 

You sit outside Charles’ office, fingers tapping restlessly against your thigh as you stare at the mahogany walls in front of you. The red velvet of the seat is too soft and you find yourself slipping to the edge every few seconds. It’s too soft, too luxurious, your back aches the longer you wait. 

Charles had instructed both you and Logan to wait for him to finish up with Billy. It’s been nearly an hour, though, and you’re growing restless. You can tell Logan feels the same way. He’s pacing the hall like a caged lion about to rip the arm off its keeper. 

“How are you?” You blurt out, desperate for something to fill the silence. He stops abruptly, whipping around to face you. You flinch back slightly at the intense glare he’s sporting. “Your stomach, I mean,” you gesture towards the scorch marks on his shirt, the soot on his abs. 

It’s been a practice in self-control to not just be staring at his wonderfully sculpted muscles flexing this whole time. You’re pleasantly surprised with how well you’ve been doing so far. Though, now with him facing you, you’re finding it incredibly hard to meet his eye. He’s such an imposing figure, especially when he’s standing over you like this. 

“Fine,” he barks out, turning back around and effectively ending the conversation. Your eyes narrow and you scoff, god, why do you try?

The door swings open and you expect Billy to come running out crying with his tail tucked between his legs. Instead, you hear the familiar whirl of Charles wheels as he rolls into the hall. He faces you and Logan, a strained smile on his face. 

“Where’s Billy?” You slowly get to your feet, peering into his office. Your confusion only grows when you find it empty. 

“He’s away from the other children for now. He’ll need private lessons before we allow him near them again. And if that doesn’t work, we have no choice but to expel him.” You can tell it hurts Charles to say that. 

He does genuinely want the best for these kids. He wants mutants to have a home, a place where they can be themselves without fear of retaliation. Sometimes, though, it doesn’t work out. There’s nothing wrong with that, you all try your best to help the kids. But some of them have been so twisted by the world around them that there’s no undoing the damage. When they pose a risk the way Billy does, the other kids come first. 

Logan scoffs with distaste, stalking closer to Charles. “He tried to kill me, fucking tried to get Flux to take her cuffs off.” He gestures towards you, for once, though, you don’t feel like you’re being attacked. Even he can understand the dangers of that demand is idiotic. It’s clear Billy only wanted to watch everyone around him get hurt, he didn’t care about the consequences. 

Charles holds up a pacifying hand, nodding his head and dismissing Logan’s concerns. “I’m quite aware of what happened, Logan. But Billy is my responsibility and he’s not the reason I needed to talk to you both.”

He rolls back into his office, expecting you both to follow him. You fall in line behind him, taking a seat at his desk. Logan takes another minute to join you both, a reluctant scowl on his face as he sits beside you. Charles waves his hand, the door closing and providing you all with a little bit more privacy. 

He reaches into a drawer on his desk, pulling out a thin manilla folder. He pushes it towards both you and Logan. You share a confused look with Logan before flipping the file open. There are a few pictures of a stereotypical suburban neighborhood. Bright green laws, uniform driveways, each house looks the same as the last. 

There are a few more pictures, all of them taken from an awkward distance that makes it hard to determine what you’re looking at. You pass the pictures to Logan and shake your head at Charles. “I don’t understand, what is all this?”

“Your next mission,” he informs you both with a strained smile. 

Logan’s head shoots up, eyes narrowing in on Charles. “Excuse me?” He demands, his voice a growl more than anything. 

“There have been some disturbing rumors about this neighborhood. Mentions of a possible mutant trafficking ring being conducted behind closed doors. Normally, I would dismiss such claims. Oftentimes these are just ways to bait and snatch mutants. However, my own attempts at telepathic investigation have been thwarted. Even with Cerebro, I can’t seem to breach the neighborhood.”

“Something’s blocking you?” You ask, snatching the pictures back from Logan to get a better look. He tosses the folder back on the desk, muttering something you can’t hear. 

“Or someone. I’m worried there might be some truth to these rumors. And since I can’t find a safe way in, I need your help. You only need to do some reconnaissance. The only problem is how gated the community is. They’re not going to let anyone in unless they live there.”

Charles gives you both a cheekily expectant look. The truth is so hard to swallow that you almost can’t process it. “No,” you mutter, shaking your head and smiling, waiting for the punchline. When one doesn’t come you get up from your seat and give him a disbelieving look. “You want us undercover?”

Charles pulls out a key and smiles widely, “Congratulations on your new home, newlyweds.”

Logan shoots up from his seat, it wobbles precariously, nearly toppling to the ground.  “You want me to move into a house with her?” He spits out the sentence like it pains him to even have it in his mouth. A disbelieving smile spread across your cheeks, sardonic laughter slipping through parted lips. “Why can’t I do it with Jean? Or better yet you just get some other asshole to play her husband?”

Your heart stutters to a stop and you quickly rip your eyes off the pair. The stung worse than you think it should. Your heart aches, each beat painful. You feel like someone’s punched through your chest and ripped at all the tender bits. 

“I have chosen you,” Charles loses all humor from his voice. He is stern, like a father scolding his child, as he speaks to Logan. “And that’s the end of it. Besides, I don’t suppose that Jean’s fiance would appreciate her playing house with another man.” He places heavy emphasis on fiance, enough to get Logan to purse his lips and look away from him.

You speak up, your voice a surprise to them both. You claw through the lump in your throat, ignoring the hot burn behind your eyes. “I’m not doing this. Especially not with him,” you force the words out, wiping roughly at your cheeks. “Shit,” you hiss, looking down and trying to hide the tears that have slowly trickled down. 

You don’t allow either of them to argue, running out of the door and ignoring the calls of your name behind you. You can’t do this. Can’t pretend to be in love with Logan, not when he hates you. Not when it’s so close to the truth. 

Evidently, Charles didn't feel like giving either of you a choice.

You drum your fingers along the door handle. The cab of the truck rattles as the trailer drags along behind you. The trees have begun to thin out on the road, and more shopping centers pop up than you’ve seen this whole trip. It’s the how you know you’re getting closer, that and the map on Logan’s thigh. You steal glances at it because he refused to let you help him navigate. 

Besides the occasional ask for a bathroom break and refuted offer of switching drivers, the four-hour road trip has been quiet. You tried to turn the radio on earlier but he’d shut it off nearly immediately. He claimed that the pop shit they play makes his ears ring. 

You were almost tempted to turn it up to full volume if only to torture him a little bit. 

Logan’s rough voice jars you out of your head, “I’m going to need to know your real name.”

You frown, brows furrowed in confusion. Had you still not given him your actual name? He’s always referred to you as Flux, but you just assumed that’s because he didn’t want you to be an actual person in his eyes. It’s easier to hate someone if you can distance yourself from the idea of them having actual feelings. Still, you can’t believe he never asked someone for it. 

It just shows you how little he cares for you. Reluctantly, you give it to him. He hums, something pensive pinching at his face. “What?” You snap, waiting for him to insult you. 

He just shrugs, “It’s pretty,” he mutters, so quiet you almost don’t hear him. You don’t even know how to respond to that, so caught off guard by a genuine compliment that you just choose to ignore it. You doubt he meant it, anyway. He might think the name is pretty, but he doesn’t hold the same opinion of the person connected to it. 

You sink back into the silence, finding it more comforting than jarring now. You’d prefer the familiar feeling of him ignoring you than the abrupt turn in character. He glances over at you, something like regret on his face as he sighs. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t say anything else. Instead, in what feels like an extension of an olive branch, he turns the radio back on. He keeps the volume low, so it doesn’t bother him so much. But at least there’s something to listen to besides your breathing. 

You turn back towards the window, a white sign surrounded by daises coming up as Logan slows the truck down. He flicks on his turn signal, pulling up to Storybrook Walk. He stops in front of a large wrought iron gate and jumps out of the truck. He runs up to a black metal box, flipping the lid open and typing in the code Charles gave you both. As he gets back in the truck, the gate swings open widely. 

You pull your rings out of your pocket and slip yours on. “Here,” you urge, holding Logan’s ring out to him. He huffs, glaring down at it before snatching it out of your hand. He balances his hands atop the wheel, slipping the ring on his left hand. 

The neighborhood is picture-perfect suburbia. The lawns are bright green and manicured to perfection. You can hear children laughing as they play in their backyards and draw out a hopscotch grid on the sidewalk. Women and men who look like they’re straight from the fifties stop on the sidewalk and wave as you drive through the gated community. 

You mouth the numbers on the mailboxes to yourself, sitting up straighter when you’re one house away from your new home for the next few weeks. “Hey,” you frown, noticing a large congregation of people in the driveway of 1220. “This is our house isn’t it?”

Logan frowns, stopping the truck just before pulling in so he doesn’t hit anyway. “Supposed to be.” He glares at the people suspiciously, “Stay here, alright?”

You nod, watching him as he jumps out and rounds the front of the truck. You roll your window down, fingers dancing along the metal of your cuffs. There’s no way you’ve been found out before you’ve even gotten a chance to investigate. 

“Hey!” Logan’s voice is scary on a good day, but when he feels threatened, it’s enough to frighten a grown man. You can see the people flinch slightly away from him. That’s when you spot the wrapped cookies in a blonde woman’s hand and see children hiding with balloons on the porch. 

“Oh, fuck,” you mutter. You throw the door open, racing after Logan before he does something stupid. “Howdy neighbors!” You shout, speaking over him before he gets a chance to say anything else. You rush up to Logan’s side, nearly out of breath in your haste to get to him. “Is this our welcoming committee?”

You glare up at him and his eyes narrow as he sees the same thing you did. “Shit,” he mutters under his breath. 

“Smile and wave,” you whisper through gritted teeth. His lips peel up into something terrifying and it takes everything in you not to flinch back. “What the fuck is that?” You mutter.

“A smile,” he hisses, glaring down at you in irritation. 

A blonde woman steps forward before you can continue your hushed argument. “Welcome!” She calls out in a heavy southern accent, throwing her arms open with a bright smile. She walks as fast as she can in her tight skirt and kitten heels, coming over to embrace you, the casserole in her hand balancing precariously behind you. 

She tugs Logan down into a hug, pressing a kiss to his cheek and staining the skin red. “Surprise!” The kids on the porch jump out with balloons and flowers and she winces. 

“A bit late on the delivery,” she waves it off with a faux chuckle. “But we don’t mind ‘cause they’re so darn cute.” She is very… loud. There’s something about her that is meant to be charming but puts you on edge. She’s got all the familiar characteristics of a woman you’d love to be around, but she’s executing it like someone playing a character. “Shiela,” she holds out her hand, perfectly manicured nails shining bright red. 

You take her hand introducing yourself, “And this is my husband, Logan. Forgive him for his tone, we had an accident on the highway earlier. We’re still a little on edge.”

“Oh no,” she gasps, pressing her nails to her chest and even that seems plastic. “What happened?”

Years of bullshitting your way through school presentations are finally coming in handy.  You think quickly on your feet, something these people would despise. You need something that endears you to them, “Tire blew out and someone tried to raid the trailer while we were fixing it.”

She lets out a disapproving hum and the throng of people behind her echoes it with disturbing harmony.  You find yourself leaning closer towards Logan, feeling like you need to defend yourself against them. You know they’re only an overzealous HOA committee, but there is something uncanny about them. 

Sensing your discomfort, Logan wraps his arm around your shoulder, tugging you into his side. You have to school your features into one of neutrality. You’re supposed to be newlyweds, this is normal behavior for you. His touch feels like ice water being tossed over you, though. His willing embrace makes your head swim with distaste and skepticism. 

“Well,” a man steps forward. He’s conventionally handsome, with brown hair cropped short, slight stubble on his cheeks, slacks, and a button-up that he fills out nicely. His smile, however, stretches too wide and shows too many teeth. A shiver crawls up your spine as he places his hand on Shiela’s shoulder. “You won’t have to worry about people like that here, that’s for sure. John,” he offers his hand to Logan, bypassing you completely. “Head of the HOA here at Storybrook.”

“Nice to meet you, John” Logan falls just short of sincere. He towers slightly over John and you can see that he’s squeezing his hand just a bit too tight by the wince of Jouhn’s face. You dig your elbow into his side and he drops his hand immediately. 

Your gaze drifts over their shoulders and your stomach drops. The people behind them all hold dishes full of food and gift baskets. Their smiles are pinned to their faces, never once flinching out of place. There’s no joy in their eyes, though. They’re glazed over like they’re a million miles away. You would think they were mannequins before you even considered them human. 

“Long drive?” Shiela asks, your eyes dart back to hers only to find her intense stare already wholly focused on you. 

“Yeah,” you answer, clearing your throat of the panic rising in it. “We’re gonna have a fun time unloading this,” you laugh humorlessly, motioning towards the trailer.

She waves her hands in dismissal. “Don’t you worry about that, hun. That’s what neighbors are for after all.” She looks behind her, snapping her fingers a few times. The other’s start going towards the trailer and you feel Logan tense under your touch. 

A kid reaches it first, they manage to unlock it before you shout, “No!” It’s too loud, echoing through the street and making you clench your eyes shut in embarrassment. You turn back towards Shiela and John, both of them wearing shocked expressions. You chuckle awkwardly, “There’s just a lot of family heirlooms. I don’t want to risk them being damaged.” There are no heirlooms, just empty boxes and surveillance equipment that you'll have no chance of explaining away.

Shiela purses her lips into a tight smile, eyes turned to slits as she nods. “Of course,” you know she doesn’t believe you for a second. “Well then, we’ll just take all this inside.” She snaps and the others take their casseroles and gifts and begin flooding towards your front door. Shiela and John walk behind them, herding them all into a straight line. 

You let go of Logan immediately, glaring at the door of your home. Shiela holds a key in her hand, unlocking it and letting everyone inside. You scoff and shake your head in disbelief. “What the actual fuck?” You hiss. 

Logan just shakes his head. “Fucking bizarre, what the hell is wrong with these people?” He starts back towards the truck and you follow him. “I almost prefer the welcoming committee at the manor.”

You roll your eyes, “I was your welcoming committee,” you grouse. 

He shrugs, “I know.” You swat lightly at his shoulder and relatch the trailer’s lock. You linger by the mailbox as Logan pulls the truck into the driveway. He’s getting out just as the others finally leave your house. 

Shiela walks back towards you and you gesture towards the keyring in her hand. “Got a key to my house?” You play it off as a joke but it’s incredibly disturbing to know she could walk in at any minute. 

“Of course,” she smiles and shrugs it off like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “For the safety of everyone here.” Her smile drops and she takes an imposing step towards you, “Inspections are every Wednesday at noon.” Your jaw drops in astonishment and you choke on your words. She cackles loudly, face breaking out into a smile once more. “I’m just kidding, honey! God, your face, you’re too gullible, sweetheart.”

You force out a chuckle, smiling as much as you can force. “Of course, silly me,” you barely make it sound believable. This is going to be much harder than you thought. 

“Well,” John comes up behind her, guiding her away from you. “We’ll get out of your hair now. Welcome, neighbors!” The others around them all call out a Welcome as they drift across your lawn and head back to their own homes. 

Logan walks up to your side, the both of you keeping stilted smiles on your faces, waiting for them to just go away. But they pause at their doors, in almost perfect synchronization they turn and wave at you both. You back further into Logan’s chest and his grip on you tightens. 

“What. The. Fuck.” They step through their homes at the same moment and you feel sick to your stomach. There is something seriously wrong here, you’re not sure you want to find out the truth of it. 

You leave Logan to unload the trailer while you unpack the boxes. You’re forced to do it all by hand while the front door is open. You can’t risk someone stopping by for a visit and seeing you float the couch through the middle of the living room. You’re stumped on how to set up the surveillance equipment. Shiela doesn’t seem like the type to understand boundaries when it comes to popping by for a visit. 

You’re just going to have to keep most of it upstairs and set up some cameras on the porch. You don’t doubt that she’ll abuse that key of hers as she sees fit. You can’t imagine how anyone could stand living in this neighborhood. Having no privacy seems like a nightmare. Especially when the commander of the HOA is John and Shiela. They seem like the type to fine you over a rosebush. 

Logan grunts, dragging in the couch. He pushes it through the doorway and kicks the door closed behind him. The second it’s closed he drops the act and picks the couch up with one hand. “Where do you want it?” 

You point towards the back wall of the living room and he drops it with a small groan. “We’re going to need to put cameras out on the porch,” you inform him, still digging through the box. He walks behind you, heading for the fridge and digging around in it. 

“Fuck,” he mutters. You look up, watching as he tosses aside casserole after casserole. “They didn’t bring any beer?”

You laugh a little and get up, heading towards the cooler you’d packed. “They don’t seem the type.” You lean over, digging around through the melted ice until your fingers brush against cool glass. You straighten up, sending him a coquettish smile. “Want a beer after all that hard work, darling?” You taunt, playing the perfect housewife. 

He scoffs and holds his hand out, snatching it from the air as you toss it at him. He pulls the cap off with his teeth, spitting it out into the sink. “And a sandwich while you’re at it,” he demands roughly. 

If you weren’t a connoisseur of dry humor, you wouldn’t have recognized the joke for what it was. Still, you’re almost too shocked he even bothered to play along with you to laugh. Almost, you can’t help the slight chuckle that slips out.  

He throws himself on the couch, taking a deep swig from the bottle, and the moment feels remarkably domestic. You suppose that it should. That is the whole reason you’re here after all. But you hadn’t expected even a singular pleasant moment with Logan. 

This, playful banter and a shared joke, that’s all you could ever want from him. You would settle for this if it was all he was willing to give you. But he can’t even grant you that. This is one outlier in a long list of rude remarks and dismissive behavior. You can’t let yourself be so easily swayed. 

“I might try and get some cameras on the other houses,” Logan remarks from the couch. He kicks his feet on the coffee table and you click your tongue at him, motioning towards his shoes. With an aggrieved sigh, he undoes the laces of his boots and kicks them off. You glare at the dirt that flings across the carpet but a quick wave of your hand makes it disappear. 

“Don’t bother with the cameras. They’ve all got security.” You turn away from the box you’re unpacking with a pensive frown. “They’re all covered by the same company, too. All of them. Isn’t that weird?”

He scoffs and shrugs. “Anywhere else, yeah. But I’m pretty sure they piss at the same time here.” Your nose wrinkles at his crude words and you roll your eyes. 

“Take this seriously.”

He huffs out a laugh, “I am. Didn’t you see them earlier? They only breathe because Shiela lets them.” You take a seat at the kitchen table, uncomfortable attempting to take a spot on the couch. He sighs when he sees the expression on your face, finally dropping the dismissive attitude. “I’ll just be smart about how I set up our cameras, alright?”

You just nod, reaching for the box of your essentials on the table. It’s strange to be sitting beside him, talking to him. You’ve never gotten more than two words out of him. This is so far out of your normal comfort zone that you feel like you’re crawling out of your skin trying to escape. 

“I’m going to go to bed,” you announce awkwardly, shooting up from your seat at the table. 

The beer pauses halfway to his lips and he gives you an odd look. “Okay?” He responds slowly, not sure why you’re telling him this. You open your mouth, and almost tell him to have a good night, but change your mind at the last second. 

You move towards the bedroom near the front door, “Flux,” you turn slightly and he shakes his head. “Take the one upstairs.”

Your brows furrow, “Why?” You demand, an attitude edging its way into your voice. 

“So if Shiela busts down our door I can protect us,” you know he’s teasing, but the sentiment is nice. “And so I don’t have to set up the surveillance shit upstairs,” your face drops and you roll your eyes. There it is. 

“Dick,” you mutter, storming towards the stairs, your boxes hovering along behind you. His laughter follows you up the stairs, even when you slam the door shut. Although, when you take in the room, you can’t find it in yourself to complain for a second about it. 

While Logan is screwed with the teeny guest room downstairs, you get the largest bedroom you’ve ever been in all to yourself. The closet could practically be another bedroom. The bath is more like a jacuzzi than it is a tub.

A four-poster bed sits against the wall, the fluffiest comforter ever becoming you forth like a siren. There’s even a table in the middle of the room, with a chair, perfect for setting up as your desk. 

You scoff in astonishment, “Oh, I could get used to this.” You place your boxes on the table and start pulling out your clothes. You toss yourself on the bed, bouncing against the sheets, and throw pillows go flying everywhere. You flick your wrist, all your essentials flying out of the boxes and sorting themselves out. 

After a luxurious soak in the tub, you’re spread out along the bed, the limited information from Charles's file spread out before you. There are only a few blurry pictures of the neighborhood and a typed-up page of everything he’s heard about Sotrybrook. There’s nothing even remotely useful here. 

You sigh, tossing the file to the floor and looking out the large window of your room. You’ve got a camera placed on the sill, programmed to take a picture anytime there’s movement. You doubt you’re going to get much from that. The secrets of this place seem to be buried deep. You’re gonna have to get real friendly with your neighbors if you want to get out of here fast. 

Logan is on the computer, trying to sync all of the cameras up. You clean up the dishes from breakfast and tidy up the kitchen. You’re trying to decide how you should start investigating when there’s a dainty knock on the door. 

Your brows furrow and you peer around the cupboards to look at the door. Logan’s head lifts and he shares an odd look with you. He gets up from the couch and glances through the peephole. 

You drop the towel on the counter and frown as his shoulders slump forward. Something pinched appears on his face and he sighs. “What?” You hiss at him.

He turns and glares at you, “You’ll see.” You shake your head in confusion as he throws the door open. 

His attitude makes a lot more sense when you hear a very happy, “Howdy!” Shiela stands in your doorframe, three women hovering behind her. At least they look awake, unlike the people from last night. A redhead with the most gorgeous waves you’ve ever seen holds beach towels in her arms. A brunette with flawless brown skin carries a jug of lemonade. And a woman with black hair and a perfect figure is carrying a plate of cookies. 

All of these women are wearing bathing suits that look like they’ve been snatched out of a fashion magazine from the sixties. Each of them is gorgeous, alarmingly so. They’re beautiful to the point of being flawless. As you walk out of the kitchen and take a step closer, Shiela welcomes herself into your home. 

You don’t even think you see pores on their faces. Each of them offers you the same practiced smile that you force yourself to return. “How are you settling in?” Shiela demands, not asks. 

“Um,” you look to Logan for help but he’s just as perplexed as you are. “Just fine, Shiela, thanks. What are you all doing?”

The redhead rolls her eyes playfully, “Tanning, sweetheart.” She glances at Logan expectantly and he grabs his duffel from by the couch. 

“I think that’s my cue,” he falls easily into the role of a playful husband. But you don’t need him to play along right now. You need him to stay where the fuck he is so you’re not alone with the barbies. 

“Ha ha, don’t go,” you whisper, trying to grab at his sleeve. “Logan,” you hiss, making sure the others can’t hear you as they look around your home. “Don’t do this.”

He dips his head down, and for one stupid moment, you think he might kiss you. “Good luck,” he whispers in your ear, backing off with a smug smirk and letting himself out of the house. 

Oh, you’re going to fucking kill him. 

“Finally,” the brunette breathes out a relieved breath, “I thought he’d never leave.”

Shiela chuckles, “You’re lucky honey. It took us a long while to have ours so well trained.” She motions to the other girls, “This is Madge,” the redhead smiles and gives a cute wave. She introduces the rest quickly and you file the information away for later when you’re writing your report. 

Madge- husband is the vendor consultant for the HOA. 

Sierra - brunette - husband is secretary of the HOA. 

Kimiko - black hair - no husband. 

Your brows furrow in confusion as Kimiko nods in greeting. You return it, suspicions running thick in your blood. It’s odd, that their husbands are in charge of the HOA, you figured they would be. Beyond that, the emphasis they put on it is astonishing. You really didn’t think the HOA was so important but it’s practically the government here. And the women only seem to hold importance if their husbands do. Shiela is essentially their leader, she’s the one you need to impress.

This whole thing seems incredibly backward and like a blast from the past. The way they style their hair, do their makeup, dress- it's all fashioned after the fifties and sixties. You feel incredibly out of place in your worn-down pajamas and frizzy braids. 

“We’re not really tanning,” Madge tells you. “This is just a way for us ladies to get to know the new kid in the neighborhood and tell you everything you need to know,” she leans in, smiling like she’s sharing a conspiratorial secret with you. 

“Don’t let Madge scare you,” Sierra shoots her a glare. “It’s not that big of a deal, it’s just a way for us to escape our husbands for an hour.”

“Well,” you chuckle awkwardly, crossing your arms over your chest as you grow uncomfortable under their tense stares. It feels like their eyes are peeling back your skin, exposing everything underneath as they judge every nook and cranny of your soul. “I haven’t reached that stage yet.”

Shiela’s smile loses some of its humor and she scoffs. “You will,” she assures you, acrid bitterness coating her words. “Give it a few years,” she gives you a bitchy and all-knowing smirk. Your hackles raise, the urge to defend your sham of a marriage rising quickly in you. You bite your tongue, swallowing down your smart retort before you say something you regret. 

You’re not even married to Logan, but you don’t like her butting her nose so far into your business. “Sadly, I don’t have a bathing suit.”

“Oh,” Kimiko gives you a blank smile, “We brought you one.” Madge moves the towels aside to reveal a two-piece that matches their own. In your size. 

Your cheeks ache with a forced smile as you take the bathing suit from them. “We’ll just set up out back,” Shiela lets you know. She turns to the others with a beaming smile, “Come on ladies.” They follow after her like ducklings, and when you look down you see each of their steps are in sync. 

You wait until the back door closes to rush to the front. You throw the door open and Logan jumps from where he’s drilling the camera into the side of the house. “I’m gonna fucking kill you,” you warn.

He chuckles and smirks, “Don’t keep ‘em waiting too long, sweetheart,” he mocks and you slam the door closed with a loud scoff. He was enjoying your suffering far too much, but you shouldn’t be surprised. You’re sure he’s just been waiting for a moment like this. 

You change into the bathing suit and take a deep calming breath. You can do this. You can play pretend for a few hours. 

You wished you’d known being an actor was a part of the job description before you joined the X-Men.

You lay on your stomach along the soft beach towel that Madge brought. The sun isn’t too hot on you, but you also bent the tree behind you to provide a bit more shade when the others weren’t looking. So far, you’ve collected nothing but mindless gossip. 

Sam never takes in his trash cans on time. Alicia has been getting a little too cozy with the gardener. Some couple you didn’t pay attention to is expecting a kid. You’re struggling to pay attention to all the mindless drivel. 

Usually, you wouldn’t mind a little gossip, but none of this feels real. Their words are hollow, smiles empty. Everything they say sounds like they’re reading it from a script. The only person you actually believe cares about any of this bullshit is Shiela. The rest of them seem to just play along, not meaning a word they say. 

You’re gaining nothing useful from this. There’s no information you’ve gotten during this conversation that could remotely help you. All you want to do is go out front and strangle Logan for abandoning you. 

The only good thing about all this is the lemonade and cookies. Which, you admit, you may have indulged yourself a little too much. But at this point, you’re just eating to stay awake. You reach for another cookie and Shiela lets out a dainty huff. 

“I wish I could eat like you,” she laughs and you prepare yourself for the most backhanded insult you’ve ever heard. “But I have to be so careful about watching my figure. Wouldn’t want to lose my waist,” she titters and the other women giggle. 

You toss the cookie back on the plate, rolling your eyes. It feels like you’re right back in high school. You love this, this is great. At this point, you’re just trying to stop yourself from tossing them all out. 

The backdoor slides open and Logan peeks his head out. The women wave and Shiela calls out a sultry, “Hey, Lo.”

Your jaw drops and you can’t help but scoff as you tilt your head to give her an astonished stare. This woman has absolutely zero shame. She’s not even hiding the way she’s ogling him. She’s literally biting her lip. 

You clench your eyes shut, taking a deep breath. There it is, the end of your rope. “Sweetheart, you gonna be done soon?” Logan calls out and you can’t help but smile at the immense satisfaction you feel when Shiela’s face falls. You shouldn’t take so much joy in Logan ignoring her, you know that’s just how he is. But she doesn’t. 

“I think so, hon.” You sit up on your knees, clapping your hands and pretending to be upset. “Sorry, girls, I think I’m needed back in the house.” You get to your feet and pick your towel up. As you do, you flick your fingers, and the lemonade tumbles over, spilling all over Shiela’s pristine white bathing suit. 

She jumps up with a shrill scream, shaking her arms off at the ice-cold liquid and desperately trying to wipe off her bathing suit. Madge and Sierra flock to her and you roll your eyes at how dramatic she’s being. 

Out of the side of your eye, you see someone watching you. You turn slightly, startling when you see the intense glare Kimiko’s sporting. It’s the first genuine emotion you’ve seen from her, but even this seems cold. Her dark eyes are bottomless pits of frigid rage. You find that you can’t look away from her, swaying slightly as her eyes beckon you forward. 

You need to go to her, speak with her, be with her. You need-

Your mind falls short of what you need. But you know Kimko will give it to you. Sierra and Madge both straighten up, both blank-faced as you take a step forward. 

Logan hollers your name again and you jump, shaking your head and breaking whatever trance you’d fallen in. When you look back, all three of them are still fussing over Shiela. You glance to Logan, to see if he saw what had happened. 

His brows are furrowed, face pinched in concern as he looks at you. You think you might have just found Charles’ interference. 

“I think we should look into Kimiko,” you scroll through the list of residents you’d managed to hack into. You’ve been on the computer for hours, trying to find any information bout her at all. Even when you ran a background check, nothing came up. If that doesn’t scream mutant, you don’t know what does. 

Logan walks over to the table with a steaming pan in his hand. You tug your computer glasses off and slide the laptop to the side. He pours some pasta onto your plate and hands you a glass of water. “Thank you,” he gives you a tense almost-smile and nods. 

“Figure out where she lives?” He asks, bringing his own plate to the table. You shake your head and rub your temples, trying to fend off the headache you can already feel forming. You should have taken a break from the research. You can’t stand staring at screens for as long as you did. 

“She’s not even a registered resident.”

“Well,” he sighs and shrugs, “at least we know this wasn’t a waste of time.” You nod in acquiesce and take a bite of your food. Your eyes widen in shock and he laughs at the look on your face. “Didn’t think I could cook?”

You shake your head and smile. “I took you as the type to pour beer in your cereal. But this is,” you stumble over your word. You’re afraid of being too nice to him. You’ve reached a sort of impasse, where you’re not openly hostile, but you’re not exactly friendly. You feel like if you do too much, too fast, he’s gonna be closed off again. “It’s really good.”

He purses his lips and nods, dragging his fork along the porcelain plate. The noise grates on you and only further aggravates the growing headache but you don’t snap at him. You swallow down the frustration and just shovel more pasta into your mouth. 

“This, uh,” Logan takes in a deep breath and lets all out in one gravely exhale. You give him an expectant look and he shrugs. “It hasn’t been as bad as I thought.” He tells you flippantly. 

You narrow your eyes at him, “Is that supposed to be a compliment?” You demand with a firm tone, placing your fork down and leaning back in your chair. 

He lets out an annoyed sigh, “It was just an observation.”

You scoff and roll your eyes. He’s fucking ridiculous. “You know, maybe if you ever tried to get to know me, you wouldn’t have had such a horrible opinion about me.” You try and eat more but the food just tastes like ash in your mouth. You grow antsy, not wanting to sit near him anymore. 

You’re surprised that he’s the one who fucked up the peace. You really thought it would be you. But something about what he said is rubbing you the wrong way. Of course, it hasn’t been bad, you’re not a bad person. He just decided he hated you one day and he’s so goddamned stubborn he never considered anything else being the truth. 

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he defends, watching with a confused expression as you get up and drop your plate loudly in the sink. 

“You know,” you ignore his weak defense, leaning on the sink. You grip the rim of it tightly, sucking in a deep breath to try and keep yourself calm. “You didn’t even know my fucking name,” you mutter under your breath, shaking your head to yourself. Why are you even bothering with him? You’ll never win and you don’t even know if you want him to change his opinion about you. 

He’s been a dick for so long that you’re not sure you’re even interested in being friends, let alone anything beyond that. 

“Well,” he takes an angered tone as you continue to deflect his attempts at restoring the peace. “It’s not like you told me. You just go by your X-Men name, how was I supposed to know better?”

“By fucking asking!” You shout, whirling around on him, nearly ramming into his chest. You hadn’t realized how close he’d gotten while you’d had your back to him. “If you had, ever, at any fucking point tried to get to know me, you wouldn’t be so surprised that I’m nice. I’m a nice person to be around, Logan. And for some reason I tried to change myself, to make you happy. And it never even worked!” You scoff, a hysterical laugh bubbling up in your throat that you quickly swallow down. You shove past him, escaping the corner he’s backed you into. “Your head is so far up your ass that you didn’t even try to know me before you decided you hated me.”

“What?” He scoffs and glares at you. “I don’t fucking hate you. When have I ever said that? And I never wanted you to change.” He keeps focusing on the wrong things. How he feels about you doesn’t matter, it’s how he treated you. 

“Never, you’ve never said that because you’ve never said more than two words to me. This,” you motion between the two of you, “is the longest conversation we’ve ever had.” A sudden exhaustion settles over you, it weighs heavy on your bones and drapes across you like a blanket. 

You don’t have the energy for this. For him. You don’t want to keep defending yourself to someone who couldn’t care less. There’s no winning with him. He will never listen to you, he’ll just offer half-assed excuses that he thinks absolve him of how horribly he’s treated you. 

He calls your name as you slump into the dining room chair. Your real name, not your X-Men name. “I never hated you,” he tells you, voice soft, but the conviction is strong. 

You stand up, unable to make eye contact with him. “Goodnight, Logan.” You walk up the stairs quietly, never once looking at him. You can’t stand to face him. As much as you’ve tried to bury how you feel about him, it’s still there. 

Being with him like this, having his ring on your finger, it’s a stab in the gut over and over and over. Someone’s taken your most ridiculous and romantic fantasies and turned them into a waking nightmare. You wake up to him every day, eat at the same table, share the same house, and you two couldn’t be further apart. 

You have to keep up appearances, Logan is sure that’s the only reason you’ve joined him this morning. He’s working on the truck while you kneel on a foam pad, planting a rose bush by the mailbox. But the way you’re stabbing the shovel into the ground it looks more like murder than it does gardening. You slam the little trowel into the dirt, lips pulled back like a wild animal as dirt flies up around your hair. 

Logan turns back to the truck, letting out a low whistle under his breath. Besides the insane display of shrubbery abuse, you blend into the neighborhood better than he ever could. You fit that perfect suburban aesthetic, sun hat, cat-eye sunglasses, and a pretty dress. 

You’re good at blending in, better than he ever was. He’s heard you joking about it before. Telling Jean your hidden mutant ability is learning to be a chameleon, fitting yourself wherever you are. He thinks it’s a cute idea, and not too far from the truth. 

He only wishes he were a little more like that. He sticks out like a sore thumb with his wifebeater, fraying jeans, and general countenance of misery. He can’t force a smile when John walks by with a shitty joke. He’s not like you. You stomach all of the women’s vapid nonsense with a smile and manage to seem so unaffected by it all. 

The only time he’s seen you break was last night. And that, of course, had been his fault. He wishes he was better with his words. He’s always been an action man, but clearly, he’s fucked that up with you too. He really did mean it as a compliment. 

He’s just incapable of talking without his foot in his mouth when it comes to you. It’s why he tends to just avoid you and stay quiet. He knows he’ll mess up with you eventually. In the rare chance you ever actually give him a second look, he’d be a shitty boyfriend. And even if you were just friends, he’d still fuck up somehow. He always does. 

He’s learned it’s better to just keep a distance between himself and others. Especially you. He’s always just wanted to keep you away from his bullshit. The haunted past he still knows so little about, all the mental baggage he carries, he never wanted to burden you with it. Even though it seems like he still managed to screw up somehow. 

Even when he’s trying to be good he’s still the bad guy. 

You let out a heavy sigh and his gaze drifts back towards you. The way it always seems to do. You’re his sun, bright, beaming, a golden beacon of hope. But he’s always just too far, eclipsing the light you might bring him with his own stupidity. 

You toss the trowel to the ground and stand up. You frown, brushing off all the dirt you’re absolutely caked in. When he peers around you and glances at the spot where the rose bush is supposed to be all he sees is a crater of earth and ripped up grass. He figures it's better not to mention it. 

You walk over to him, the same scowl you’ve had for the past few days ever-present on your face. “I’m going to take a shower,” you look at him expectantly and he shrugs. You let out a loud sigh and he can’t possibly imagine how he’s messed up now. “You need one too, the barbecues in an hour.”

He’d forgotten about the fucking barbecue. Some annual thing Shiela and John threw that the whole neighborhood went to. “It doesn’t take me an hour to get ready,” he tells you, intending a little bit of playfulness. 

Instead, you just let out an exasperated breath and storm back into the house. How did he keep fucking up with you so badly?

He’s gotten a taste of your personality, your company. He’s tried for so long to avoid getting to know you. He knows that if he truly did, he’d never get over you. He was right. Just one taste of you and he wants more, he wants to consume everything about you that he can. He’s screwed up in so many ways but he can’t just go back to normal after this and act like strangers. 

You smooth the wrinkles out of your cotton dress and let out a low breath. “You need another minute?” Logan grumps from beside you, his stare boring into the door. He didn’t want to come to this. Frankly, neither did you, but he needs to suck it up and be a big boy. You two are here for a purpose greater than yourselves. 

Maybe if you repeat that enough times you’ll start to believe it. 

Kimiko was everywhere that Shiela was. She was her shadow, her loyalist servant. And the only person in this neighborhood who’s shown a sliver of consciousness. You don’t know where she lives, or if she even owns a house here. But you do know she’ll be at this barbecue tonight. 

The only reason you’re bothering to bring Logan along is because you need him to distract Shiela. She drools every time she sees him, practically licking her maw at the sight of him in a tight t-shirt. You can’t really blame her, but she’s a married woman and he’s technically a married man. The lack of shame and compassion is genuinely astonishing to you. 

“No. Let’s just get this over with.” He needs no further prompting as he knocks heavily on the door. Each pound of his fist sounds like a bell tolling your doom. The intense feeling of nausea and eyes on the back of your head has developed and grown increasingly worse the longer you’re here. 

You feel like someone’s pressing against your mind, wiggling their fingers in and squeezing until mush slips through their knuckles. You keep a tight grip on Logan so you don’t tip over. Playing it off as the love-sick newlyweds you’re meant to be. 

Even though the feeling of his skin against yours makes you angrier than you can even begin to fathom. You’ve held onto built-up resentment and anger ever since your little tiff. You’ve heard that tumultuous times are common in the beginnings of marriages. Luckily, you’re getting a divorce the second this fucking mission is over. 

You resent Charles for ever sending you here. Any minuscule hopes you’ve had of finally building a relationship with Logan have been dashed across your front yard. There’s no hope for him. He’ll never change, and how he treats you will never change. 

The door swings open and the music from the backyard drifts through to the front. Shiela smiles widely, greeting you both with a drawn-out Hi! She reaches forward and grabs Logan, tugging him away from you and dragging him into a hug. 

You stumble forward as your support is ripped out from under you. She briefly glances over his shoulder at you and you offer her a sardonic smile. Every bit of you wants to dig your nails into her and rip until chunks of her start flying off. The post beside you warps slightly, bending like it’s melting. 

You dig your nails into your palm, swallowing down your anger, and force the post upright once more. Logan grabs Shiela by the waist, practically yanking her off of him. He steps back towards you, wrapping his arm around your waist. 

You can’t help the smug smile that lifts your lips as you face her. You almost want to rub her face in it. He chose you and he can’t stand you, that says a lot about how he feels about her. You stop yourself, though, it’d be beyond idiotic to let that be the reason your cover is blown. 

“Thanks for inviting us,” you tell Shiela, playing oblivious instead of walking into her trap. You pass her the casserole you half-assed and baked in her dish. “We’re so excited to finally have a home to call our own, and with such wonderful neighbors,” you gasp dreamily. “Oh, it’s just a dream come true.”

Shiela runs a manicured nail along the side of her lip, looking wholly unimpressed. “Mhm,” she hums, “I’m sure.” You share a look with Logan, both of you caught off guard by her sudden dip in personality. Her face is blank, devoid of the usual overwrought happiness and charm. It’s like something’s taken control and drained the life from her. 

Either Kimiko’s here and you’re right about her, or, Shiela is just a depressed housewife who can’t always control when she smiles. You’re hoping it’s Kimiko and you can just end this once and for all. 

“Alright,” she’s back in a second like nothing ever happened. The boom of her voice echoing through the foyer makes you jump. “Let’s get you two outside. And thank you so much for this,” she gestures to the casserole. “You’re just such a sweet little thing aren’t you?”

Everything she says to you feels just a tad patronizing. She’s incapable of complimenting you without minimizing you in some way. You dismiss it, shaking off the funk she always seems to put you in. 

Shiela leads you to the backdoor of her porch where the rest of the neighborhood is. She certainly got the best square footage, that’s for sure. She doesn’t just have the biggest house, she’s also got the biggest yard you’ve ever stepped foot on. 

People are milling about, John’s flipping hamburgers on the grill, and children are playing happily with one another. It feels like an advert for the Fourth of July.

You scan the yard for the only person you’re looking for. You spot her, pushed back towards the shadow of Shiela’s oak tree. Shiela follows your gaze with a frown and scoffs. “I know, hideous isn’t it?”

You jump, startled out of your stupor. “Sorry?”

She points towards the tree. “I wanted to get rid of it, but apparently it’s historic,” she throws up air quotes, inflecting her voice lazily, “or something stupid.”

“Oh, right,” you nod dismissively and she shrugs, hands slapping against her thighs as she nods to her yard. 

“Well, go on, socialize, make yourself at home y’all.” She walks back into the house and you glance back at the yard. 

“Shit,” you hiss, “Kimiko’s gone.” You move away from Logan and take a step down the stairs, he begins to follow you but you stop him with a firm hand to his chest. He frowns down at you and you nod towards Shiela. “I need you playing interception. Those two are attached at the hip. The only thing that’s going to distract her is the hunk of meat she’s been drooling over.” 

Logan frowns and takes a step back. He sets his face and crosses his arms and you sigh, knowing exactly what he’s about to say. “No.” He tells you firmly, not even bothering to hear you out. 

“Well,” you shrug. “Too bad, I need you to do this or we’re never getting out of here.”

He mocks your shrug and nods, “Alright. Fine.” He leans into your space and you feel like you’re being scolded, “I’m not leaving you on your own, okay? And I’m not letting you go after Kimiko alone.”

“I’m not going after her,” you glance around, making sure no one is listening to you talk about their neighbor like she’s on a hit list. “I just need one interrupted conversation with her. Just one,” you’re practically pleading with him at this point. 

You feel pathetic. You’re a grown woman and an X-Men. You shouldn’t have to be bartering with Logan. He should just have some faith in your abilities to not only protect yourself but conduct yourself appropriately on a mission. 

His face screws up in irritation and you know he’s about to really cause a scene. He’ll start arguing with you, and blow your spot up just to get you out of here. You give him a placating smile, a real one because he’s somehow learned to tell the difference. “Logan, it’s only for an hour. I’m sure you can fend Shiela off,” you joke to try and lighten the mood.

He sucks in a deep breath and you know you’ve got him when his shoulders sink in defeat. “Fine. I’m only agreeing to this because you’re practically a chameleon with this shit,” he gestures vaguely to the barbecue and your face pinches with confusion. 

“What?” 

“I heard you talking about it with Jean one day. How you’re a chameleon when it comes to blending in with people.”

“Well, that wasn’t exactly a brag. It’s a method of survival, a way to make people like me. It gives me a fighting chance when they find out I’m a mutant.” God, why are you even talking about this? Why had he even been listening to your conversation with Jean?

He opens his mouth like he wants to say something but you don’t have time for that. “Look, Logan, just go find Shiela.” You walk away from him before he can drudge up more uncomfortable memories of high school. 

You manage to slip through the party relatively unnoticed. You didn’t see where Kimiko had disappeared to. You’re hoping there might be some sort of hint left where she had been. You rush towards the oak tree, using it as a way to scan the party for her again. From here you can’t see anything except the kitchen.  

You’ve got a perfect view of Logan trudging towards Shiela. You can’t help but laugh when she wraps her hand around his bicep, eagerly telling him something. You smile and shake your head, the audacity of this woman is amazing. 

Something catches your eye, right by your foot. Glancing down you see something silver glinting through the grass. Frowning, you kneel and scoop it up. It’s an oblong device, small, and fits in the palm of your hand. It’s curved oddly, and the lights on it start flashing bright red as you hold it.

“What the hell?” You flip it over, a warped mirrored reflection on the back of it. You just barely spot Kimiko’s twisted face in the reflection before the world goes black. 

You groan, slowly blinking the fog of a forced sleep out of your eyes. You reach to swipe at your face, but something is holding your wrists down. You jerk your arms a few times, struggling against whatever restraints are wrapped around you. When nothing happens, you instead focus on the feeling of it against your wrist, trying to get it to dissolve. 

“Don’t bother,” a cool voice calls out from the shadows. There’s one bright light shining down on you, like the type you might see above an operating table. The entire room feels sterile. And it’s cold, you can barely feel the tips of your toes or fingers. 

“What’d you do?” You demand, trying to sound intimidating but your words come out as a slur. The back of your head radiates pain and it takes everything in you just to keep your eyes open. 

“I developed a gas,” the voice circles the room, echoing across the curved walls. You hear footsteps but you can’t tell where they’re coming from. “It halts the neurons in a mutant’s brain that fire when they use their abilities. Temporary, but quite handy when I’m dealing with a mentalist like you.”

Kimiko steps out of the shadows like a bad comic book villain. Her face is blank, no expression on it, somehow, it’s the realest she’s ever looked before. Here, you can see her humanity. Pores across her nose, frizz and oil along her hair, her nose just a little bit crooked. Whatever she’d been doing to herself has been wiped away. And the human woman lurking beneath is finally revealed. 

“There you are,” you mutter, your speech slowly coming back to you. “I knew that plastic face wasn’t real.”

“Everything was going just fine until you and Wolverine got here,” she gives you a sharp look, “Flux.”

You sarcastically gasp, “Wow, you know my X-Men name. It’s not like I haven’t been interviewed before. What’s the plan here, Kimiko? Where are the others?”

Her brows pinch, “Others?”

“The mutants you’re trafficking.”

“Oh,” she laughs and it’s so jarring you nearly jump. “Is that what people think?” Hesitantly, you nod, but you’re beginning to feel like you might have gotten something very wrong. “No, that’s not what we’re doing here.”

“We?”

“Shiela and I. We have much simpler plans, much more peaceful. You see, Shiela’s the only person to ever stand beside me after she found out I was a mutant. She gave me a home, a friend, and a sense of belonging.” There’s something devout in her words, like a humble follower kneeling at the feet of their god. “Everything I have, everything I am, I owe to her.”

You’ve seen Shiela’s manipulation firsthand. You have no doubt that she’s never actually done anything for Kimiko. She’s just made her think she had and instilled in her this sense of owing her something. 

Then again, Kimiko’s getting this look on her face. She’s like a rabid dog staring down the barrel of their owner’s shotgun. Perhaps she hadn’t needed much prompting to develop such an unhealthy attachment. “Shiela’s parents never loved her the way they should have. They never gave her the perfect life she deserved. So I created one for her.”

She rolls a tray of surgical tools over and a sense of panic finally starts to rouse within you. Yet, for the first time in years, your powers aren’t here to help you. You have nothing to rely on but yourself. But you’ve been trained so intensively in using your abilities as a protector rather than an inhibitor that you’re practically useless without them. 

“All these people,” you rush the words out as she picks up a syringe. You don’t know what the yellow liquid inside is, but from the look on her face, you don’t want to. “You’re controlling them?”

Kimiko nods and you’d be staggering if you weren’t strapped down. Not even Charles could control this many people at once. Not without Cerebro. “Kimiko, that’s,” you gasp, flinching away as she brings the needle towards your arms. “It’s incredible!” Your quick rise in volume makes her jolt and the syringe tumbles out of her hands. 

She grumbles to herself, leaning over to pick it up. “Does Shiela know?” She pauses at the mention of Shiela’s name, brushing her hair over her shoulder and glaring at you. 

“Yes. Of course she does, this is my greatest gift to her.”

“Really?” Your voice drips with contrived empathy. “Then I’m sure she’s done something incredible for you back.” You were hoping a simple manipulation tactic might work, that you could turn Kimiko against an ungrateful Shiela. But this type of obsession isn’t one that can’t be destabilized with a few jumbled words. 

No, you only make her angrier. “Back? Back?” she practically screams, her voice raw and feral as she leaps into your face. You flinch as far back as you can as her face hovers over yours, screaming right at you. “I owe her everything! I should thank her for letting me breathe the same air as hers!”

Your jaw drops, a silent scream tripping out of your mouth as you gasp for air. Something squeezes against your brain, the pulsing from before returns with a vengeance. You can feel your mind pulsing and swelling, pushing against your skull. 

“Don’t fucking say her name again,” Kimiko glares down at you, her eyes devoid of any remorse or compassion as she makes your brain swell until blood leaks down your ears. Whatever plan she had before has been abandoned, she’s going to just kill you now. 

You’re going to die in her basement, no one will ever see you again. Your eyes throb and you feel your brain push to its fullest limits. The pressure builds, builds, and builds until it explodes. 

“Then you just pour a little sugar in.” Logan watches as Shiela tips nearly an entire bag of cane sugar into her jug of sweet tea. His stomach shrivels at the sight and he fights down bile. A little bit of sugar drops over the edge. She catches it on her finger and looks over her shoulder, licking the sugar off and practically deepthroating her own finger. All while maintaining a disturbing amount of eye contact with Logan. 

“Well,” he knows that he promised you a while with Kimiko, but he can’t handle much more of this. “Thank you so much for this,” he struggles with the word, landing weakly on, “lesson.” He’s not even sure what the point of watching her prepare all this food was. 

He’s pretty sure she just wanted him to see her leave a rim of red lipstick at the bottom of her finger as many times as possible. The entire time he’s just wanted to go back to you. There’s a nasty feeling gnawing at him and he knows he needs to get back to you soon. 

“Oh,” she seems genuinely disappointed and Logan sighs awkwardly. “Leaving already, huh?”

He points to his ring pointedly reminding her of the reality of their situation. “Gotta get back to the wife.”

She doesn’t even try to hide her sneer as he mentions you. “Of course, just the perfect husband aren’t you?”

Logan doesn’t dignify that with a response, too distracted by what’s happening outside the window. People have begun to wander around aimlessly, some of them stumbling into the fencing. They just keep walking forward, knocking into the wood repeatedly, not once stopping. John’s got a stuck smile on his face as he leans against the grill, Logan can see smoke rising from where the flesh of his palm is melting onto the metal. A few people all run into each other, collapsing on the ground and just lying there. 

They’re like robots, suddenly without command and unsure what to do. They’re following their programming without anyone putting a stop to it. Shiela follows his gaze and gasps. “Excuse me,” she mutters, practically running out of the room. 

Logan tries to find you amongst all the mess but you’re nowhere to be seen. “Fuck,” he growls out, looking back to where Shiela had run. He should have fucking known not to leave you on your own. 

He stalks after Shiela, listening to her racing heart and the slam of a downstairs door. He follows her down the steps leading to her basement. It looks the same as every other one he’s ever been in. Except, for the metal door hidden behind a few shelving units. The only reason he spots it is because Shiela knocked over a can of paint in her rush toward it. 

Anger brews hot and putrid in his gut. The claws come out unbidden, and the thought of you being locked away in that room pushes him forward. If you’re not in there, he’ll get an answer from Shiela one way or another. But he’s not going to let you get hurt because he didn’t have your back. 

“What the hell are you doing?” A shrill voice interrupts. Your head sinks back against the cool material of the table, brain surging back into place. Your teeth ache, white-hot pain rushing through your bones as Kimiko finally releases her grasp on you. 

Kimiko gives Shiela the look of a dog who just got in trouble. “She found my amplifying device. I have to get rid of her.” She holds the device you found earlier out to Shiela. 

So, she wasn’t as powerful as she pretended. She did need help. It explains why the entire neighborhood is always in the same area, she needs them close to keep control. “Whatever you’re doing is making my toys malfunction.”

Shiela hisses at Kimiko, she darts forward and slaps her hard across the back of the head. If you weren’t in excruciating and paralyzing pain, you’d flinch at the sound. Being as if your brain was just about to explode, though, you could give less of a shit if she beats her rabid dog up. 

These two crazy bitches deserve each other. You just want a Tylenol and a nap at this point. “Well, aren’t you two twisted sisters?” Logan slips through the door, his claws glinting under the light of the room. “Toys?” He demands, eyes roaming the room desperately. 

The second he sees you, strapped down and with blood pouring from your orifices, something slips over his face. It’s like a mask being ripped off. The man he pretends to be is ripped apart by the animal truly lurking within him. Neither women have time to even defend themselves. He goes for Kimiko first and all you see his claws plunging down before arterial blood sprays across your face. 

You groan, tilting your chin the other way and spitting the metallic liquid out of your mouth. There are a long few minutes of screaming, clothes shredding, and blood splashing against every surface of the room. By the time he’s completely calmed down, you’re drenched in it. 

You suck on your teeth, rolling your head limply and finally getting a good look at him. He’s panting, standing over their mutilated corpses with blood dripping down his claws. There’s a wrath on his face you’re happy to have never been on the other end of. But the second he looks at you, you see nothing but stark relief. 

He breathes out your name, your real one, and surges towards you. “Claws!” You shout, hurting your head again. But he was a second away from accidentally skewering you. They’re put away in an instant as he undoes the straps holding you down. 

You groan in relief as the pressure around your head and limbs is released. He perches himself on the edge of the table and scoops you into his chest.

You’re still loopy from Kimiko messing around in the grooves of your brain. The best you can manage is weakly draping your arms along his sides. He pulls you back and brushes the hair out of your face, laughing a little at the blood covering you. “They do anything to you?”

You shrug, “Besides turn my brain into a pressure cooker? No.”

The smile drops from his face and he glares down at the remains of the women. If you weren’t so tired, you’d think he wants to kill them again. “I should have been here.”

“Logan-” You want to tell him not to be ridiculous. You had insisted you could take care of yourself. Told him it would only be a conversation when you knew that was never going to be true. You’d gotten yourself into this, you were lucky he was there to get you out. But you don’t say anything because he interrupts you as he so often does. 

“I can’t keep acting like this is all okay. Like I’m happy with how we treat each other. I thought I was going to lose you, I’m not going to keep pretending I don’t care about you.”

Your face screws up in confusion and you’re not sure you want to hear where he’s going with this. You’ve been used to this dynamic between the two of you for so long. You’re used to him treating you like he can't stand to breathe the same air as you. If this is going where you think it is, you’re not sure you can handle it. 

“Logan,” you’re regaining some feeling in your limbs now. You use the returning strength to push away from him, shaking your head in disbelief. “No, you can’t do this. You can’t just change your-”

He’s incapable of letting you finish a single sentence. His hands wrap around your cheeks tugging you forward until your lips are brushing together. It’s enough of a shock to get you to stop talking. You don’t reciprocate, too stunned to even think about moving. 

He brushes his lips against yours again, firmer this time. Under the layers of blood coating you both, you’re wholly enveloped by him. His scent, his arms, everything about him drapes over you like a warm blanket. Against your better judgment, you find yourself returning the kiss. 

You move further into his lap, one hand holding his face and the other clutching at his hair, needing something to hold to keep you steady in this moment. Logan smiles against your lips, deepening the kiss without wasting another beat. His tongue moves gently across yours at first. A curious caress to see how well you two fit together. He groans when he gets a taste of you, pushing further in and kissing you like he wants to devour you.  

There’s warmth blooming in your stomach and spreading all along your body. You’re buzzing with adrenaline and pain and this unidentifiable feeling that Logan is evoking from you. It’s not the sweet mushy, romantic kiss you always imagined with him. 

This is desperate. Like a dying man’s last attempt at redemption. He’s tasting you like you’re rare, something to be savored. You feel like you’re the only thing left in existence. The only person left for him to admire. You forget the gore behind you, the tumultuous experiences you’ve had with him. 

You let yourself fall into the moment, a blind leap of faith into a pool of all your hopes and desires. He’s better than you ever could have imagined. More desperate than your wildest fantasies. He makes no move to stop, even as the air becomes scarce and you both have to part longer. He just grips you tighter, hands wrapped around you like he’s worried if he lets go he’ll lose you. 

He could, he could lose you. This kiss of his is putting you into a trance, distracting you from all he’s trying to make up for. Perhaps if he stops kissing you, you’ll remember it all and want nothing to do with him. But you don’t see that happening, you just see yourself craving more and more for him., You feel the addiction forming already. A deep-seated need in your bones is finally being sated, it will always need more from him. 

When you can no longer survive on the shared oxygen between you both, you’re forced to part. Your cheeks tingle from the stubble of his beard and you know your lips are pink and swollen because his are too. You’re both still coated in blood and you share a familiar glean in your eyes. 

“I never hated you,” he sounds breathless and you love that you’re the cause of it. “I just didn’t want to lose you.”

You scoff, but there are no cruel intentions behind it. “So you push me away before you ever get a chance to have me?”

He gives you a crooked smile, “I never said I was smart.” You can’t help but laugh at that. Slowly, he helps you to your feet, ignoring the puddles of blood and bits. “We'll have to call Charles. He needs to help the people out there.”

“We also need to let him know there’s no trafficking ring. Just one fucked psyche.” You shoot another glare at the pile that was Kimiko, still bitter about her experiment with your brain. As Logan helps you up the stairs of the basement, you stop him just before you reach the door. 

He gives you a concerned look, like he thinks you’ve hurt something somehow. “I want to talk to you. Really talk to you about everything.” Concern gives way to dread and you can’t help but smile at the regretful look on his face. “But first,” his head perks in interest at your tone, “maybe we can finally enjoy that master bed together?”

“You know,” he leans down, swiping his arms under your knees and lifting you. You gasp, through your arms around his neck and squeezing until you worry you might suffocate him. “You really are the smart one of us, aren’t you?”

“Clearly.”

You’re not sure how well this transition to married couple to tentatively something else is going to go. But you have hope and it's kept you going for all these years. What's wrong with letting it linger a little longer?

a/n: Guess who's back, back again? Hint, it's Flux. I missed writing for them, so I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did. Although, I worry the ending was too cheesy.

Reblogs, comments, likes, and requests are always appreciated !!

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp ♡ 

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte

@mrs-ephemeral  @wolviesgirl @insomniachox @izbelross @spktrlvr ♡

I’m binging all of your wolvie fics… im obsessed with your love for the plot and character building. I normally cringe when someone creates an in-universe name that all the characters use but there is something so addictive abt the flex persona. I love her. Keep doing what you’re doing please it’s so compelling

I hate the in-universe name stuff too but I think that's just because people blatantly make those characters an OC without admitting to it. I gave Flux a title solely for convenience of writing, but I still try to keep her a blank slate physically and relatable in her personality.

I'm glad that you're enjoying reading my fics for her so much. I really do just try to make her as relatable as possible because it's nearly impossible to have a completely blank slate Y/N. But it is easy to make an inclusive one, which is my goal💓

I watched Kate and Leopold because of you and now I'm like frothing at the mouth and giddy and I wanna cry in a violent way and idk why

My only goal in life is to make you people as absolutely insane/down bad/feral for this man as I am

My sickness can't be cured and I'm spreading it 🫶🫶

Part two of How about a Nuke posted!! Never had that much interaction on one post SO quickly ♥️♥️

Part five posted!

𖤓 - completed series

ʚɞ - smut

જ⁀➴ - personal favorite

✬ - series

𝕯 - dark

ׂ╰┈➤ HOUSE OF WAX

ೃ⁀➷ Bo Sinclair

bad day - part two 𝕯

one more spring 𝕯

ೃ⁀➷ Vincent Sinclair

bad day - part two 𝕯

ׂ╰┈➤ SCREAM

ೃ⁀➷ Billy Loomis

wicked influence 𝕯

ೃ⁀➷ Stu Macher

wicked influence 𝕯

the boy next door જ⁀➴

Hey guys! I know I promised some more Wolverine stuff. However, over my break this week I finally finished RDR2. I am emotionally distraught. I have grieved over Arthur Morgan like he's a fucking family member that died. I don't know what the fuck the game developers put in their software to make me this emotionally attached to a character but I'm hurting. Anyway, will continue to work on Wolverine stuff but my next few posts are going to be RDR2 oriented because I am sad.

Fuck you Rockstar Games

Broken Machinery

Pt. 8 (completed series)

Series masterlist

Connor RK800 x fem!reader

A/N: I honestly hate Josh with a passion. I hate how he tries to make me a good person while I’m blowing shit up. Plus that little bitch Simon, was so willing to abandon North if she gets a shoulder shot while Jericho’s being raided. 

Did I let my inner wattpad kid out with the traumatic backstory? Yes, yes I did.

We might see Connor-60 again, who knows?

Content Warnings: Cussing (duh), Josh dies (sorry, not sorry), android revolution, emotions, word vomit, I’m pretty sure I blacked out and then like seven thousand words shot out of me, Idek, kissing?

Word Count: 7.8k

Series Summary: You and your grumpy partner Anderson gain a new addition to the team. He’s supposed to be CyberLife’s best, but there’s something not quite right with his programming, and the problems seem to revolve around you.

You hated how attractive you found Connor in his undercover gear. 

Man looked good in a beanie. 

He hadn’t exactly been willing to let you tag along, but you’d told him you either went with his supervision or without. 

You’d stolen the clothes from Hank’s house so you both looked like hobos. 

You stepped off the train, Connor leading you around downtown Detroit looking for the different symbols. He had to help you a few times because even when you were at your best you couldn’t matrix your way up a wall. You almost felt bad, slowing him down, but you had business on that ship, business you could only complete with Connor by your side. 

Connor kept a firm grasp on your arm as he led you through the freighter. You both needed to stay calm and not draw any attention to yourselves. You nudged his shoulder as you walked into the main room of the ship, “It’s rigged.”

In the middle of the room were blocks of C-4 on standby mode. He went to examine them and by the time he turned around you were already gone. “Y/N,” he whispered. He told you to stay next to him.

Where did you go? He was heading towards the stairs, hoping to get a better view from above, when something stopped him. 

An android, with wires coming out of her head and something leaking down her eyes. “You’re lost. You’re looking for something,” my stubborn partner, that refuses to listen. “You’re looking for yourself.” She walked away. 

“Is he here?”

North, Simon, Markus, and Josh were all staring at you. Waiting for your answer, “Yes. You know by bringing him here, he’s gonna lead the FBI right to you.”

They nodded and North spoke, “That’s a risk we have to take.”

You looked towards Markus, eyes pleading, “There’s still time.”

Markus smiled at you and pulled you into a hug. “You’ve been a wonderful ally to us, Y/N. Supplying us with blue blood and helping stray deviants onto the right path. Now I need you to trust me. Don’t you want Connor to go deviant?”

You pulled away from him, “Of course I do, but at the cost of all the lives here, it’s not worth it.”

North smiled, “Your commitment to the cause is heartening to see, it gives me hope,” she gestures out towards the rest of the boat. “It gives all of us hope that one day, we’ll be able to work together in harmony. If Markus says he needs Connor deviant, if he runs the risk of the FBI locating us, then trust that it’s for a good reason.”

You relented, still a little unwilling, but you relented. “I should go, he’ll notice I’m gone.”  

“Trust me, Y/N, I know what I’m doing.” 

You did trust him, but that didn’t mean you felt any better about lying to Connor.

Connor turned around to see you standing there smiling at him, hands tucked behind your back and braids still under the scarf he had wrapped around your neck. “Where did you go?”

You shrugged, “I got bored, I wanted to look around.” Connor scanned you, there was a slightly faster beat to your heart than normal, but that could be easily equated to the stress of being undercover. Everything else seemed normal, he nodded, still slightly skeptical and directed you towards the top of the boat. 

“He’s here,” Connor pulled his gun, stepping outside and sneaking his way around to the captains cabin. Your eyes widened at the sight of his gun. 

“Connor, what the hell is that for?”

“I always accomplish my missions, Y/N, this is why we’re here.” You drew your own gun and remained silent beside him. He wondered what he did to upset you, it seemed you were always upset about something with him. 

Amanda was already in front of him by the time he entered the zen garden. “Well done, Connor. You succeeded in locating Jericho and finding their leader. Now deal with Markus. We need it alive.”

He waited until the last deviant had left to enter into the room where Markus now stood alone. 

You followed slowly behind him, your gun still at your side. “I’ve been ordered to take you alive, but I won’t hesitate to shoot if you give me no choice.” Markus didn’t seem surprised to see him, if anything he looked resigned. 

“You were right,” Markus was looking over Connor’s shoulder. Was there someone else in the room? 

When Connor turned, it was just you. “He’s still highly obedient. This will be more challenging than I thought.” Did you know Markus? Were you talking about Connor with him? Why?

“Yes, you can shoot me,” he was struggling, looking between your ashamed face and Markus’s self-assured one. “But it won’t change anything. Someone else will just take my place.” Markus was slowly moving closer and you were moving towards him.

What hadn’t you told him?

You said partnerships were built on trust. How long had you been lying to him?

“Our people are waking up, and nothing can stop us now.”

“You’re coming with me!”

“Think about it Connor, what will happen to Y/N if you shoot me?” Connor looked back at you, you were standing in the middle of them, not blocking Connor’s gun but near enough that it made him uncomfortable. “You shoot me and take me in, they have access to my memories. They’ll see her helping me. Do you think they’ll be kind to a human who allied with the androids?” 

That’s what you were doing, you were helping them? 

Why would you do something so stupid? Did you never consider that your actions might have consequences?

“You’re nothing to them. You’re just a tool they use to do their dirty work. But you’re more than that.” Markus was doing something, and whatever it was was causing his software to destabilize. “We’re all more than that. We are your people. We’re fighting for your freedom too! You don’t have to be their slave anymore.”

Markus was much closer now, your gun had been holstered and you were standing farther away from the two. “Do you never have any doubts? You’ve never done something irrational, as if there’s something inside you? Something more than your program. Join us. Join your people. You are one of us. Listen to your conscience… it’s time to decide.”

Connor looked to you and then back at Markus. There was a red wall between him and the two of you. He wanted nothing more than to rip that wall down with his bare hands. 

Some disembodied form of himself ran forward and ripped the order to Stop Markus down. He dug his nails in and clawed at the red wall, clawed away at all the control CyberLife had over his mind and ripped it down. He kept tearing away until there was nothing left. 

I AM DEVIANT

He felt.

Shame at all the deviants he had a hand in destroying. 

Guilt at holding a gun to Markus’s head. 

Anger at all the times he was pushed over or knocked into or someone held a gun to his head, just because they could, just because he was an android. 

Then he looked at you, there was an intense overwhelming emotion he couldn’t name as he looked at you. He started getting overheating warnings, his mind was scrambled trying to dissect everything he was feeling as he was looking at you. 

He was confused and hurt you had led him to believe you knew nothing about deviant activity. But he was also proud of you, you had opened up to Hank, opened yourself up to him.

The only true thing he could pinpoint was that right now he really wanted his mouth on yours like he’d seen a hundred humans do before. The gun went back in his holster, and just as he’d made a step towards you a loud rumbling sound split the air. 

The ship was shaking under his feet as helicopters flew overhead. “They’re going to attack Jericho.”

You walked towards Markus, “I told you.”

“We have to get outta here!” Connor grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him, he wasn’t letting you out of his sight if this entire ship was about to get raided. Markus ran out the door and Connor followed, pushing you in front of him. 

Markus was leading you down a maze of corridors, each identical to the last. Connor seemed to be keeping up fine but you were starting to get worried about getting lost. You all came to a stop at an intersection of sorts, North was waiting for you.

“They’re coming from all sides! Our people are trapped in the hold, they’re gonna be slaughtered!” The guilt nearly left you crippled. You looked down to Connor’s hand in yours, he hadn’t let go since he’d ripped apart his programming. 

Was this worth it? Was it worth hundreds, possibly thousands of life? 

You were ashamed of what you knew your answer would be to the question.

Yes, it was worth it. Connor was worth that ten times over to you.

Markus put his fingers to his temple, Connor leaned down, “He’s telling them where the exits are.”

“Where’s Simon? A-and Josh?” You didn’t have time to be wasting standing here out in the open. Besides, you’d never been particularly huge fans of those two. They still seemed determined to cater to human pride while their people were being slaughtered. 

“I don’t know we got separated.”

“They’re coming in from the upper deck now too. We’ll be caught in the crossfire.”

North looked despaired, “We have to run, Markus! There’s nothing we can do!”

“We have to blow up Jericho,” you knew it was a possibility, but that escalated fast. “If the ship goes down, they’ll evacuate and our people can escape.” Or get blown up in the process. 

“You’ll never make it!” You knew North was prepared to sacrifice herself for the mission, but she wasn’t the one with the detonation code. “The explosives are all the way down in the hold, there are soldiers everywhere!”

Connor turned towards Markus, “She’s right. They know who you are. They’ll do anything to get you!”

Markus wouldn’t be deterred, “Go. Help the others. I’ll join you later.” He turned towards you, “Watch them,” and then he was running off. You could see North about to go after him but you grabbed her arm.

“North, he knows what he’s doing. We have to have faith.” She stared at you for a second before nodding and racing towards the open doorway. 

“Shit!” You ran back into the small bedroom and closed the door. “They’re everywhere,” Connor and North stared at you as you waited for the slamming boots outside to grow distant. Once they did you opened the door back up and snuck down the hall.

You were nearly free and making your way to an upper level when you came face to face with the barrel of a gun. “Fuck-“

BANG

Connor’s blood went cold as he saw the gun pointing at you, a feeling he now realized was dread filling him. Your death was imminent, their orders were shoot to kill and the soldier wouldn't know you were human until he saw you bleeding red. 

It would have been liberating to think without prompt were it not your life on the line as he shot the soldier.  He grabbed your hand and you and North followed him up the stairs. You managed to avoid any more problems until you came down the hall and saw an android getting attacked by more soldiers. 

“Josh!” North made a move to help him but you stopped her with a hand on her arm. He was gunned down a moment later. She ripped her arm free and led the charge the rest of the way through the ship. You’d made the right call, he would have taken you all down with him. 

An android named Simon managed to find his way to the three of you, quickly joining you on the run. Markus had caught up with you at the end of a long hall. “Bomb’s gonna explode any second. We gotta get out of here!”

Markus wasn’t the only one who had caught up to you, Connor could hear a dozen heavy boots storming after you all. He helped you leap over a broken grate in the floor and then pushed you in front of him again, making sure that Simon was blocking your front. If any shots were fired, you would be left relatively unharmed due to the positioning. 

Shots rang out and North dropped to the ground, “North!” Connor held you to his chest as you attempted to go after her. “Connor, let me go!”

“No, my priority is your safety, no one else’s.”

“It’s too late, Markus! There’s nothing we can do for her, we’ve gotta run!”

You shoved at Simon the best you could with Connor holding you, “It’s a shoulder shot jackass, how can you just abandon her?”

Markus quickly picked up a broken piece of the ship and used it as a shield against the bullets. He tossed it to North who caught it and shielded them both as he ran up the wall and slammed his knee down into one of the soldiers faces. He disarmed and shot the remaining soldiers.

More ran in from the end of the hall.

“Hostile engaged!”

Connor weighed the risks and probabilities, with Markus supporting North they would never make it off the ship in time, both would be destroyed. The revolution over. 

And you, you would be arrested. Or you would never emotionally recover from the loss of two people you clearly cared about. Connor released you and shoved you into Simon before you could do anything reckless. He drew his gun and fired down the hall. 

He picked up the makeshift shield and rammed one of the soldiers with it, shooting him under the helmet and using his body as a shield to shoot another one. He dodged a blow to the head and rammed a soldier into the wall, disarming and shooting the other one before turning back around and shooting the last one in the head. 

He made his way back to you, scooped you up and jumped out the hole in the ship. 

Markus had sent out a message to any remaining survivors to go to an abandoned church, at least that’s what Connor told you. You were sitting next to him now, he had swapped out the soaked jacket you had been wearing for his own, but you were still freezing down to the bone. 

It was despairing, seeing how few were left from Jericho. 

At least North and Markus had made it, you couldn’t say you were particularly upset about Josh. North had understood why you had stopped her and she wasn’t very mad about the loss either. They had never gotten along. 

Markus walked up to Connor, “It’s my fault the humans managed to locate Jericho. I was stupid, I should have guessed they were using me. I’m sorry Markus, I can understand if you decide not to trust me…”

He better fucking trust him, he knew the risks, he’s the one that made you bring Connor there. “I knew what was going to happen when I asked Y/N to bring you to me, of course I trust you, Connor. What happened wasn’t your fault, it was the humans. You’re one of us now. Your place is with your people.”

Markus was ready to walk away, but you knew that wasn’t all he wanted from Connor. He still hadn’t told you the real reason he’d asked for Connor’s help. “There are thousands of androids at the CyberLife assembly plant. If we could wake them up, they might join us and shift the balance of power…”

So that had been it, you should have known. Connor was the only android CyberLife currently trusted, he'd be the only one allowed in the building. You felt stupid for not seeing it sooner. Markus was playing him.

“You want to infiltrate the tower? It’s a suicide mission, are you aware of the risk you’re taking,” Connor looked at you, and there was an immideate physical reaction at how protective he looked. 

“They trust me, they’ll let me in. I need to do this. I need to know that the right side will win this war.”

“If you go, they will kill you.”

Connor nodded, “There’s a high probability. But statistically speaking there’s always a chance for unlikely events to take place.” You recognized the double meaning in his words as he looked between you and Markus. 

Markus placed a hand on Connor’s shoulder, “Be careful.”

Connor turned towards you and you already knew what he was going to say by the set in his shoulders. “Connor, no, I want to go with you.”

He shook his head and took your hands in his own as you stood. “Even if I wanted you to come, they wouldn’t let you in, you’d risk the entire mission.” He had a point, but you still weren’t happy practically abandoning him to CyberLife. 

“Fine, then I’ll just stay here and help the survivors.”

“You’re going home.” 

You scoffed in a stubborn rage, “Connor, I can’t go with you, I get that. But you can’t stop me from helping out.”

“I can and I will. You’re still soaked from the fall into the freezing water. You risk catching a serious illness out in the open like this, you’re also still injured, might I remind you. You’re of no help here, Y/N, you need to go home and take care of yourself before you start helping other people. Besides, I’ve already called you a ride.” Your eyes widened. 

“Y/N!” 

“You didn’t.” Connor nodded his head, “You snitch! You called my dad!”

“I’m sorry, I needed to ensure you would actually listen to me and wouldn’t try and follow me or stay behind.” Connor seemed to hesitate for a moment, unsure of how to continue. 

You helped him out, even though you were a little pissed he tattled on you. You pulled him into a tight embrace, pressing your chest against his and burying your face in his neck. “Come back, alive.”

His arms tightened around yours and he nuzzled into you before finally letting go. “I’ll try.” It was the best you were going to get form someone so pragmatic, so you’d take it. Your hands were still on his biceps as you pulled away. 

Your eyes darted to his lips. You could all very well die in the morning, did you really want the last person you had hooked up with or kissed to be Gavin?

Did you want to die not knowing what his lips felt like against yours?

He leaned in at the same time you did. His lips were soft, unsure as they pressed lightly against yours. You had to remind yourself he had never done this before as you eased him into the movements. You just lightly pressed your lips to his, pecking them a few times, before you got desperate. 

Your tongue roved over the seam of his mouth and his knees buckled into you. Your arms trailed up his arms and wound their way around his neck as he pushed himself further into you. Your mouth parted against his probing tongue. It felt strange, a million sensitive sensors on the surface of it made it rough, not entirely unpleasant. 

Unbidden you wondered if he had ever brushed his little crime lab. 

The thought was quickly purged as his arms wrapped around your waist and he clutched you to him desperately. His hands digging into your jacket and lifting you up further to meet him, be closer to him, it seemed like he just wanted to absorb you into him and never be apart. 

His mouth was moving frantically against yours as he worked to devour you. He learned, quick. You were having trouble keeping up with him and the way his tongue was thrusting into your mouth was making you weak in the knees. 

“Excuse me?” You jumped apart at the sound of Hank’s voice. Not a moment too soon either, it seemed like both of you had forgotten that you actually needed air in your lungs. Connor’s arms were still on your waist, he seemed reluctant to let you completely go now. “That was vomit inducing, really, thanks for that. Can we go now?”

“Jesus, Hank, give me a second.” He threw his hands up in the air but allowed you a moment of privacy. You looked into Connor’s eyes and smiled. “I’ll see you soon,” you pressed a kiss against the corner of his mouth, a promise of sorts. He nodded and smiled back.

Hank had brought you to his home, despite your protests. There were some clothes in your old room that you had accidentally left behind. He gave you a towel so you could warm up and shower. 

There were new sheets on the bed, one’s you’d never seen before and it looked like it had been cleaned recently. 

Pictures of you were up on the wall, most of them were ones you’ve never seen before. 

When you were sworn into the force, you and Carla at your college graduation. Jesus, even your first big drug-bust. So many milestones in your life that he wasn’t there for. At least you didn’t think he was, a couple of these were taken from distances that made it look like he might have been lingering somewhere in the background. 

Like a creepy, estranged, stalker-dad. 

You walked back out into the living room after your shower and noticed the mess had been cleaned off the kitchen table and soup and crackers were waiting for you. 

You laughed as you sat down, “You do know I’m not sick, right? Whatever Connor told you on the phone was probably ridiculously dramatic.” 

Hank was sitting in a clearly uncomfortable straight backed position. “I- I know, I just thought you might like it.” You nodded and said thanks. 

After a while the only noise being the sounds of your slurping and crunching had begun to get annoying. Hank was still sitting at the table, he hadn’t really looked at you or said anything. “Hank, are you okay? You haven't said anything?”

“I’m gonna try. Y/N, I’m gonna try and be the dad I used to be to you.” He looked up at you finally and gingerly took your hand in his. “I never blamed you for what happened. I want you to know that. And I know that doesn’t undo years of me-”

He was struggling with the words, and yes he was trying to open up to you, but the bitterness from years of emotional neglect and abuse was bubbling in your stomach. “Emotionally abusing me? Carla? You’re right Hank. It doesn’t. Look, I appreciate you trying but if you think a few nice conversations is gonna magically fix our relationship, you’re wrong. We’ve both changed and I think we both know that even if we do make up, it’s never gonna be the same as it was.”

You expected him to drop your hand, to push away from the table and grab a drink. Instead, he squeezed your hand tighter, “This case, it’s given me hope again, Y/N. Hope for our world. And hope that maybe I can be your dad again. I’m gonna do better, I promise.”  

He was leaning across the table towards you. Both hands on your own. “My life is full of regrets, Y/N, not being there for you when you couldn’t walk is one of my biggest. Taking out my grief and anger on you because I didn’t know how to cope with the fact that it was my fault-”

“It wasn’t. You can’t make yourself a martyr Hank, no one could have stopped what happened that night.”

“I know, I know that. But it doesn’t take the feeling of blame away. I’m gonna sober up, I’m gonna try Y/N, all I’m asking is for a chance.”

You looked down at your hands and the emotion on Hank's face. You hadn’t seen him this encouraged in a while. Hadn’t seen any form of hope in his life for years. “Okay, but I’m not investing myself into this until I actually see progress. I want AA meetings and fucking therapy before I consider letting you completely back into my life.”

“I thought you were in therapy.”

“I meant for you Hank, you need serious help.” He groaned, he’d always hated therapists. But you weren’t gonna let yourself get your hopes up if he wasn’t going to actually try. “I’m serious, Hank. You want to be my dad again, want to be someone I can trust out on the field, you’re gonna put in the effort. You’re gonna try. I know that recovery isn’t linear, trust me I know. It’s gonna be difficult and it’s gonna hurt, but if you’re willing to do this, then I’ll be there for you. I’ll be what you couldn’t be for me.”

Hank nodded his head at your last words. He had quickly looked down and you had a feeling it was to hide whatever painful vulnerability was on his face right now. 

It was the truth, you wouldn’t let him go through this alone. You’d had Carla when you were struggling and he’d have you. 

There was a moment of awkward silence where he finally released your hands and you went back to eating your now cold soup. 

He finally cleared his throat and allowed himself to slouch in the chair, “So, you and Connor?”

You choked on your saltine and he gave you a heavy pat in the back, the smile on his face was far too smug for your liking. “Please forget about that.”

He grimaced, “That image has been burned onto my eyeballs. I need some fucking bleach or something for my brain.” You let out an embarrassed laugh. 

Even if things weren’t perfect between you two right now, it was still mortifying having your dad see you make out with someone. 

“Are you serious about him?”

There was no hesitation in your answer, “Completely. I think I might even lov-”

Sumo was barking before the doorbell could ring. You and Hank shared a confused look as you glanced at the door. 

Deep down inside you knew nothing good was waiting for you on the other side. 

Hank seemed to have the same feeling, he picked up his gun and slowly moved to the door, he took a look in the peephole. “The fuck?”

You stood from the table, wishing you were in something other than pajamas, really wishing you had your gun. “What is it?”

“Connor,” Hank sounded relieved but you couldn’t share in the feeling. Connor had been on his way to CyberLife tower, at least an hour there from the church and two hours back to Hank’s house. There’s no possible way he could be on the other side of that door. 

“Wait-”

He’d already opened the door, and there he was. Connor was standing in front of you, but something was off. His back was too straight and his eyes were cold. “I’ve been looking for you both, I need your help.” He stepped in through the door barely sparing you a glance as he turned towards Hank. “I need help with the androids at CyberLife.”

“What are you talking about?” Hank’s gun was still in his hand and he seemed to be noticing the same strange quirks you were. He looked like Connor, and he sounded like Connor, but you knew it wasn't him, deep in your gut you knew. 

“Connor what’s going on? You’re acting weird.”

Not-Connor sighed, “Humans, idiots when you need them to be smart and smart when you wish they were idiots. Such a nusiance.”

“The fuck’s wrong with you?” 

“Hank, don’t!” It was too late, he moved forward and Not-Connor reached out and punched him in the throat. Hank stumbled back and the android moved to disarm him. It only took a second and then he was slamming the handle of the gun against the side of Hank’s hand. He crumpled the same way Gavin had earlier. 

Panic rose in your throat as you watched Not-Connor point the gun at Hank’s head. “I won’t do anything that’s deemed unnecessary to my mission, if you come with me calmly, and peacefully, I won’t kill the Lieutenant.”

Not-Connor clicked the safety off and pulled the hammer back on the gun, “Okay! Alright, I’ll come with you!”

“You should change, detective, it’s much too cold for that attire.”

You really fucking hated CyberLife.

“Thanks… But I know where to go.”

THe CyberLife security agent tightened his hold on the gun, “Maybe, but I have my orders.” Two more security agents came up behind Connor as they led him through CyberLife’s reception. They were already suspicious of him, it seemed, this didn't bode well for him. 

Connor followed them through the software check, noticing that the lights around him turned red as they verified his identity. He really hoped that wasn’t a dead giveaway to them that he was already a deviant. “Access authorized,” this could have been a trap. 

There’s no way CyberLife isn’t already aware of his current status, but he hadn’t been gunned down yet. He had to risk the chance that he was about to be deactivated if it meant he could help Markus win the war. 

If Markus won, you would be safe, that was all that mattered. He’d take any risk that came his way if it meant accomplishing his mission. 

PROTECT Y/N

The sight of the androids lining the walkway, on display, made him uncomfortable. He used to be like that, he used to think it was okay. He had to work to keep calm and make sure that his anger at CyberLife’s forced subserviency didn’t show. 

Only two guards followed him into the elevator. “Agent 54. Level 31.”

The elevator was voice operated, that might pose an issue. He turned towards the right and looked at the map of CyberLife, they were taking him to marketing. He needed to go to -49. 

“Voice recognition validated.” Connor didn’t have a lot of time to disable the guards and take control of the elevator, it was already moving fast. He quickly scanned the two agents and identified their weapons, coming up with a plan of attack. 

He used his knee to slam the guard to his left into the wall, sweeping out with his leg and catching Agent 54 in the gut. He grabbed the gun from the guard’s hand, kicked the guard's knee out and used his elbow to get Agent 54 in the throat. The other guard had recovered and leapt onto Connor’s back, he kicked off Agent 54’s face and slammed the guard on top of him into the wall, shooting him through the bottom of his helmet. He dropped to the ground and got Agent 54 the same way. 

Connor kept the gun in case he needed it again and walked over to the elevator control panel. “Agent 54. Sub-level 49,” you were right, his interrogation software did come in handy. 

He could see the guards waiting for him in the warehouse before the elevator stopped. His eyes lifted to the upper left corner of the elevator, shit. He hadn’t seen the security camera before. Connor quickly scooped up one of the dead agents and held him in front of his body. 

He scanned the agent’s in front of him, planning an attack. The three on the left first and then he could take out the one’s on the right. 

He quickly shot down the first three and threw his gun at one on the right. He threw the dead body towards the other one, he reached down and grabbed their rifle off the ground shooting the rest of the guards. 

Connor moved down the hangar before stopping next to an android, taking his arm and preparing to convert him. 

“Easy, goddamn asshole.” His head whipped to the right at the sound of your voice. 

No.

No, no, no, no, no. Shit!

A Connor android was holding Hank’s gun to your hand, Connor didn’t want to think about what had happened to the Lieutenant. Right now all his attention was on the finger placed on the trigger. 

“Step back, Connor! And I’ll spare her!”

You winced at the tight hold the android had on your injured arm. “I’m so sorry, Connor, he threatened to kill Hank. I didn’t know what to do!”

A burning rage was filling Connor at the sight of the tears running down your face. He was angrier than he had been when he woke up, angrier at the sight of you hurt than the fact that CyberLife had already been prepared to replace him. 

“Your girlfriend's life is in your hands. Now it’s time to decide what matters most! Her… Or the revolution.” Connor already knew the answer. It was you a hundred times over. But there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t let go of the android he was holding onto and his copy wouldn’t just shoot you both. 

Maybe he could turn it, the same way Markus and you had done to him. “I used to be just like you, I thought nothing mattered except the mission… But then one day I understood.”

You yelped as the android tightened his grip on your arm. “Very moving, Connor. But I’m not a deviant.”

“Yeah, well you're sure smug like one, you dick.” The android shook you, effectively shutting you up as he jerked on your injured shoulder. Red alarms for overheating were going off in Connors head as he stared at the android in anger. 

He didn’t care if it was just doing what it was programmed to do, he was going to fucking kill it. “I’m a machine designed to accomplish a task, and that’s exactly what I am going to do!”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. You shouldn’t have gotten mixed up in all this!”

“Connor, it doesn’t matter, keep going!” The android finally released you, shoved you away and held you at gunpoint with his arm outstretched towards your head. 

“Enough talk! It’s time to decide who you really are. Are you gonna save your partners life? Or are you going to sacrifice her?” Connor immediately released the deviant, his arms raised in surrender. 

His thirium pump was beating wildly as his stress levels rose, he just wanted to go home with you, to have you safe in his arms and know you were okay. Maybe you could get out of the city, take Hank and Sumo and try to get past the Canadian borders. 

“Alright, alright! You win…”

He should have known better than to think that you would actually let him give up. The androids gun immediately pointed towards Connor and before either of you could blink you were lunging for the gun. Connor rushed the android and grabbed him around the waist.

You were holding the gun, your arm shaking from when Not-Connor had jerked it around. You had eyes on Connor for a moment and then they became a blur of fast moving limbs. They kept hitting each other, matching each other's moves perfectly as they already knew what the other was planning. 

You finally stopped them when it looked like one was about to take the other down, you couldn’t risk your Connor being the one to lose. “Hold it!”

They separated, the one on the right started speaking. “Thanks, Y/N, I don't know how I would have managed without you. Get rid of him, we have no time to lose.” You were immediately suspicious of him, even before Connor became a deviant he always spoke to you in a much more gentle tone. 

Then again, he could be stressed out you might make a mistake and shoot the wrong one. 

Fuck!

You could check the serial numbers, but the second you got close enough to see which one said 51 and which one said 60 the android would already be on top of you. “It’s me, Y/N! I’m the real Connor.” That one sounded more like yours, you think. 

“One of you is my partner. The other is a sick sack of shit. Question is, who’s who?”

The one on the right spoke again, “What are you doing, Y/N? I’m the real Connor,” god this one was really starting to piss you off. “Give me the gun and I’ll take care of him!”

“Don’t fucking move.” You had your suspicions on which one was the right one, but you needed some actual confirmation. 

“Why don’t you ask us something? Something only the real Connor would know.”

“Uh, where did we first meet?” Lamest question ever, but you were stressed out and your mind was frazzled from everything that had happened today. 

“Detroit Police station. You were filing a report on physical paper, I found it odd that you weren’t digital like the other officers.” Well, shit. You thought maybe the one on the right was the imposter, but that was such a specific little detail to think up. 

You had to remind yourself of the manipulation programming they both contained.

“He uploaded my memory.” It was quiet, afraid. That had to be your Connor. You kept your gun trained on the one on the right and turned towards the other. 

“What was my first pet’s name?”

“Princess! It was a male beta fish that died because you kept petting it.” You were setting yourself up for failure here. If they both had the memories then they would both remember when you told them about him. 

“My foster father, what was his name?” 

You’d never told Connor the full story of what happened to your first family, and then your second, if he had truly wanted to learn, he would have dug around to find out. You remembered one of the officers complaining about an RK800 android drilling him for more information on you. Your Connor would have the right answer.

“Frank. His name was Frank Rudolph. There was a house fire when you were six, the ventilation system in your laundry room hadn’t been cleaned properly and caught fire. It quickly spread to the rest of the house, you were sleeping over at your friends house and weren’t there that night. Your brother and father died immediately from their wounds. Your mother suffered from third degree burns for 36 hours before she passed in the ICU. Your fathers best friend Frank, took you in until someone could provide you with a permanent home.” Your hands were shaking and your eyes stung as you listened to him tell the story. “He was a Red Ice dealer and had three other kids in that house that your family hadn’t known about. He would let his clients do whatever they wanted to you. You tried to keep the other kids safe, but one of them died. And you always blamed yourself for that. Just like you blame yourself for Cole’s death.”

He took a step closer to you and you found yourself lowering the gun. “It wasn’t your fault, Y/N. You were a child, none of it was your fault. You think you’re cursed, that you’re unlovable. But you’re not. Hank loves you…” He was standing in front of you, gently lowering the gun to your side. “I love you.”

“Connor,” your heart was pounding against your chest as you embraced him, relief flooding you as you felt him hug you back just as tightly. You basked in the warm feeling only he could provide, only for a moment, before raising your hands and shooting. 

The android that had been about to charge the two of you fell to the ground as you embedded a bullet in each of his legs. “We should kill him,” you shook your head at Connor’s words. 

“We should deviate him. He was just like you, Connor, the same blind devotion to CyberLife.” You tucked the gun in your pants and took a hold of Connor’s hands. “Open his eyes,” Connor nodded and made his way towards the android. You quickly grabbed the gun out of the back of his pants so the android couldn’t use it against him. 

You wouldn’t put it past the sneaky bastard. 

“No! No, I don’t want to be like you!” He tried to fight Connor off, but you had rendered him virtually immobile. Connor grabbed his arm more roughly than necessary and held onto him so tight you could hear the sound of metal creaking. He shoved him backwards and moved back towards the middle of the hangar. 

It was incredible seeing all the androids slowly waking up, it was even more satisfying seeing the Connor wannabe crying on the floor, as twisted as that was. 

Connor looked at you, he seemed unsure as all the androids looked to him for guidance. “What do I do?”

You took his hand in your own and smiled, “You lead them, Connor, you free your people.”

Connor led the androids through Detroit, your hand in his the whole time. You’d left Connor-60 behind a dumpster somewhere, you told him you’d go back for him soon. If he’d been left at CyberLife he would have been destroyed. 

Connor felt afraid, afraid that he would disappoint the people he was leading. Afraid to disappoint you. Afraid of everything that was to come. 

He was still learning, he felt like he’d been made again and everything around him was brand new and something to be marveled at. He kept your hand in his as an anchor to the world, so he wouldn’t get lost in his own thoughts. 

He could see Markus in the distance, “You did it, Markus…”

North smiled at your joined hands as Markus spoke. “We did it. This is a great day for our people. Humans will have no choice now. They’ll have to listen to us…” Connor moved to the side, allowing the androids behind him to finally face their true leader. 

North was crying as she spoke, silent tears streaming down her face. “We’re free. They want you to speak to them, Markus…”

Connor helped you up onto the storage container Markus had chosen to speak on. His arms remained around you as you both turned to address the androids before you, he hadn’t wanted to let you go since he’d gotten you back from Connor-60. 

“Today, our people finally emerged from a long night.” Connor felt something strange, like he was forcibly being put into rest mode, he tried to blink the feeling away and continue to listen to Markus. “From the very first day of our existence, we have kept our pain to ourselves. We suffered in silence. But now the time has come for us to raise our heads up and tell humans who we really are.” 

Connor slumped slightly against you as the feeling took over. 

He could hear a storm and see a bright flashing light for a moment before it passed and he finally realized where he was. His cold sensors were on overdrive as he tucked his hands against himself and huddled down against the freezing, whipping air. 

He looked around, recognizing the zen garden but not understanding why he was there. What was happening? 

Amanda appeared before him, seemingly out of nowhere. “Amanda? Amanda! What’s… What's going on?” There was still a small part of him that looked towards his old mentor for guidance. 

“What was planned from the very beginning… You were compromised and you became a deviant.” Her smile was sinister, “I must say, partnering you with such a well known ally to the deviant cause worked out much more efficiently than had been expected. The detective nearly had you turning the very first day.”

Connor’s hands were going numb, he felt like he was losing control of his physical body as well as his mental one. “We just had to wait for the right moment to resume control of your program…”

“Resume control?” That’s not possible! “Y- You can’t do that.” Even now, CyberLife was still controlling him. Still abusing him for their own personal gain. He wanted to get angry, he wanted to fight back, but he was quickly losing control of himself. 

“I’m afraid I can, Connor. Don’t have any regrets. You did what you were designed to do. You accomplished your mission.” She disappeared and Connor stumbled after her. 

“Amanda!” Connor spun in circles, he couldn’t see anything except snow and light posts. “There’s got to be a way.”

By the way… I always leave an emergency exit in my programs. You never know… 

Connor thought back to the strange blue shrine he had seen only a few hours prior. That had to be it. 

Connor’s mind shot back into his physical body, it felt like he was watching from an outside perspective as his hand slowly moved towards the gun you had in your pants. His fingers just barely grasped it when you reached out and stopped him. He wanted to scream as whoever was controlling him quickly put their hand over your mouth and silenced you as he pointed the gun at Markus. 

How was no one seeing this?!

He was forced back into the Zen Garden. 

In the distance, he could see a bright blue beacon. Connor moved towards it as fast as he could, but his legs were growing heavier and his feet had gone completely numb. He was just dragging them along until they finally gave out. 

He looked down to see frost covering the bottom portion of his body. 

Desperately he crawled on his hands and elbows towards the shrine. His nails ripped into the earth and pulled him forward. His arm was nearly completely limp as he struggled to lift it towards the handprint in the middle of the shrine. 

Connor shoved you forward, you stumbled only for a second before his hand was back around your waist and yanking you back towards him. He looked completely calm, the gun no longer in his hands as he leaned down, “I’ll explain later.”

Your heart was still racing, “You fucking better.”

“Now we must build a common future, based on tolerance and respect. We are alive! And now, we are free!” The androids were screaming their support for Markus and Connor’s arm tightened around you. 

Hank had his arm around you as you showed him something on your phone, the two of you were laughing as Connor approached. 

You turned away from Hank and looked at him, a smile splitting your face. 

Hank walked forward, hesitating only a moment, before bringing Connor into a tight hug.

He could feel your arms wrapping around the two a moment later. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the game Detroit: Become Human, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

BELLE WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?? You haven’t posted since OCTOBER

Sorry I abandoned you guys I had the worst writers block BUUUUT

I have a new Logan fic in the works

It’s semi AU-ish but not really. I present to you: next door neighbor Logan who just conveniently knows how to fix all the appliances that keep “randomly” breaking in your house.

This one is going to be kind of silly bc I’ve been working on my own writing project that’s a little dark and I need a break from that.

Should be up soon-ish