#I don’t even remember how we got here but here we go

[dollarbils]

tell me i’m your only fan | b.eilish

billie eilish x fem!reader

context. your most active fan on onlyfans soon piqued your interest as she became something much more.

warnings. phone sex, ofstar!reader, (i probably made up half of the features on onlyfans)

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regardless of the public opinion, you quite liked your job. you’d made the switch to onlyfans just recently, finding it a much more comfortable platform, and most importantly: much more profitable.

most of your ‘fans’ so to say were the regular dynamic of people you’d expect. rich, older men with nothing better to spend all their money on. but curiously, a huge part of your audience was women. in particular one woman. your favourite, you’d call her. she’d been subscribed for about a month now, consistently watching your uploads and streams. often taking the spotlight as well, sending gifts and paying large amounts of money for personalised content. but what seriously did it for you, was when she bought your entire wish list five minutes after you’d published it, requesting a special ‘unboxing’ of everything she’d bought you.

naturally, it didn’t take long for you to start talking. it was difficult to remember she was one of your fans, your conversations straying far away from anything you’d ever talked to a fan about. she seemed to care about you, take interest in your personal life. and once you’d gotten wrapped up, it was almost too easy to get attached.

“god just keep speaking, baby.” her voice was almost a whine, as she relished in your soft laughter and emotive expression.

“how are you always turned on?” you remarked somewhat as a joke, knowing it was true though.

“i’m talking to the woman i jerk off to, i think it’s justified.” she never failed to be bold, often taking you by surprise.

“well you’ll find my recent uploads have been the outcome of what some would call a ‘muse’. you’re quite sexy yourself, babe.” she groaned and it went straight to your core, the familiar pulse settling in.

“jesus. it’s like your tryna make be bust a nut in my pants right now.” the masculinity to her words only made them more filthy, urging you to rile her up some more.

“i won’t deny it.” she chuckled, a momentary pause before she sighed.

“i bet you tell that to all of them, huh? your fans, they all think they got lucky, that your reserved for them.” her words stung quite a bit, knowing the truth was far from it.

“hardly, it was pretty stupid of me to give you my number. i’d take it as a sign that you did get lucky.” she almost scoffed at your words.

“i’m going to need to cut back on the glazing if your gonna act like this.” she was serious now, testing the waters before committing.

“oh yeah? tell me what’s so wrong with my behaviour.” a low sound from the back of her throat revealed the success of your words. clearly it was turning her on.

“you’re really testing me, baby. you can’t even imagine what i’d do if i was there with you right now.” you felt a pool in your underwear forming, liking how this was going.

“please, tell me.” her breath hitched, her confidence faltering slightly. but when she spoke again you’d never have questioned her confidence.

“i’d treat you like what you are. a fucking slut.” her filthy words only turned you on more, your skin tingling at the sound of her heavy breaths through the phone speaker.

“oh yeah? and what are you gonna do about it? you’re not here, you cant stop me from doing anything.” she chuckled, a mocking tone following.

“oh please angel, it’s cute you think so. i bet your hand is doing some filthy things as we speak. am i turning you on, baby?” your hand stopped at your lower stomach in an act of a sort of shame, your breaths quickening.

“i’m guessing the silence means i’m right. don’t deny yourself babe, touch yourself for me.” you couldn’t help but follow her demands, seeking your own pleasure along with your submission.

“fuck.” she laughed softly, again, enjoying the vocal effect she was having on you.

“you’re gonna kill me angel.” a smile formed on your lips, as you continued pumping your own fingers into your heat.

“tell me i’m your only fan.” her words were seductive, a plea to recognise her as more than a fan.

“you’re my favourite fan.” your reply seemed to satisfy her as she sunk deeper into her mattress, the sheets ruffling through the phone as she bit back a moan.

“are you close?” she mumbled, evidently riddled with her own sweat release.

“fuck, y-yeah.” you stuttered, the heat of the moment taking over, fogging up your senses.

“i like that title, favourite fan. sure seems well deserved, doesn’t it.”

“more than well deserved.” you huffed, slightly out of breath as you chuckled into the phone.

[whtybsshe]

I can tell their whole rant is not worth reading by the fact that

:they can’t properly see that Hinata was NOT the one said “Be at peace!” It was Neji.

If you can’t read the notes I made, everytime when Neji or Hinata speaks, the speech bubble either has a little pointer at him or her. Even if the panel shows Hinata, it doesn’t mean she’s the one saying it. Two, even if it’s a translation, it does not make sense for Hinata to say“But you need not suffer any more. Be at peace! But you’re wrong cousin Neji…I can see it now even more than me…” does it now?? Like can’t you figure out that contextually it sounds weird!

The other points that they make sound like “Guys, well yes she did experience abuse but IT WASNT THAT BAD😅😅GUYS she smiled like two times so IT WASNT BAD AT ALL GUYS😅😅😅 trauma is bad 😅😅but well assume she doesn’t have it😊😊😊because it serves my personal narrative☺️☺️☺️☺️”

But I as a Neji Stan, should be the bigger person here and actually logically explain to the ENTIRE SEVEN HUNDRED NOTES that Hinata neither conformed to system, or fought the system.

The hate Neji fans have towards Hinata (idk if OP is a Neji fan so scratch that, any fan in particular) comes mainly from his death as a side branch and we all hate that, im gonna agree with you there. But I think the entire thing got twisted to the point where everyone has this misguided narrative that “Neji actually tried to fight the Hyuuga system whereas Hinata didn’t, she’s a privileged princess that took advantage of Neji.” Which, it’s totally wrong because truthfully? Neither of them did. Well yes Neji might’ve made Hiashi acknowledge him but that was ALSO because 1) Hiashi felt a responsibility to his late twin brother. 2)It is constantly repeated that Naruto had a huge impact as well. So it wasn’t just the effort of a young fourteen year old no matter how much of a genius he might’ve been. Later in Shippuden we never see Neji against the clan, in fact, in SD, in Ninja Storm (I think) Neji is always portrayed to be prideful of his herritage no matter the shitfuckery that goes on and even if he’s a side branch in the eyes of the clan, he keeps it as a badge of honour and status to anyone else. And one can argue that him being against the clan but also prideful of it can exist as two mutually exclusive truths , yes. But they also can’t. We don’t see Neji actually challenge the system again, because the writing doesn’t allow for the Hyuuga subplot to develop, plain and simple.

Now everyone will agree with me on this paragraph, why can’t anyone agree that the same exact case IS for Hinata and pull out the dumbest shit from the asses to justify this twisted vision that they have of Neji and Hinata.

Now I got sidetracked a bit so im coming back to OP post and some interesting points that they made.

-She did have a carefree childhood thanks to her friends and teachers. The last words are what people should focus on. The happiness she might’ve felt during her childhood does not clash with the battered relationship she had with her father. Now according to Naruto Shinden: Parent and child day, Hinata could only remember the smell of blood and kunai. She as trained from day 1 to be a clan head. Thats exploitation, abuse, both physical and mental . Even if she doesn’t piss herself from fear seeing him, it’s sure as hell mentioned that Hinata still dreads him from underneath. All the good things happened outside of her home. She did experience trauma. Her behaviour as a “weirdo” at first, and everything I said in the above paragraph is TRAUMA. You can’t zig zag your reasoning trying to question her every step. That is TRAUMA, point blank period.

And then the all famous as the OP quoted: “It's correct to point out what she had to go through, surely having such enormous pressure on her shoulders at such young age and not being able to deliver is harsh on everyone, but pointing out her position as a victim is often done either to dismiss her implication and endorsement on her clan's slavery system and/or to downplay Neji's own experiences with the abuse of the Main Family. Not only did he have to endure a similar type (meaning: worse) of degradation from Hiashi, but also had to experience the threat of physical torture and/or murder shall he disobey, something that Hinata canonically never was hinted to suffer from.” End quote.

It’s the all famous Struggle Olympic no jutsu!!!!!😍😍😍😍😍🥰🥰🥰🥰😘😘😘

As I mentioned above, Hinata did suffer from physical abuse. Even if it’s in the guise of training, that’s things she did not have a good experience to say the very least.

I think we keep downplaying the fact that Hinata got kidnapped by foreign ninjas way too fucking much. They would a) murder her b) train her to be a weapon and pair of binoculars c) rape her (shes young then, but what if they kept her for more years?) to get Byakugan individuals afterwards

By using the Hyuuga affair example:

You don’t endorse the Hyuuga system by defending Hinata, along with Hizashi and Neji that have been quite literally the actual victims from start to finish of the entire Hyuuga affair.

Most important point: Don’t compare the suffering of two charachters!!! “Oh Neji has had it more difficult than Hinat therefore I reject the validity of all her struggles!!!”

Neji ACTUALLY recognising her pain (I want to discuss about this in a separate post but just keeping this here for now), he actually says he” to be at peace “, he does say that as well in the anime (although worded differently cause interpretation and translation and all of that)

It’s true that Hinata has not experienced what Neji has, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t been abused by a clan that glamourises power and birthright status over anything else. Why is it so necessary to compare them in this way, rather than capture their differences and nuances in actual meaningful way.

First point of the last point: The Hyuugas system was never mentioned or properly addressed in shippuden (not filler episodes) LET ALONE BORUTO. We can’t conclude whether they actually abolished the system, but neither can we claim that they didn’t. The Hyuugas are only mentioned as a “changed clan” and Hiashi “a changed man” so the abolishment does happen in some way.

Second point of the last point: We have absolutely no clue of how the seal is practiced or applied. The only thing we know is that Hizashi got it as the younger twin. That doesn’t mean that it’s the standard practice used to decide who gets the seal and who doesn’t. The reason is that it is never even mentioned, the seal itself is barely brought up after the chuunin exam.

Also on an interesting note: somebody pointed out that since Hiashi and Hizashi were twins, both had the automatic right to be clan head no matter who was born earlier (this according to inheritance law I don’t have enlightenment of) hence the seal was used to settle the place of the clan head beforehand. I think it’s a pretty solid and logical reasoning which also proves the point of what I said above.

I know it sucks for Kishimoto to end it this way without putting an end, but that’s basically what happens.

Idk if I’ve put my thoughts well into this, but to conclude this entire post: it’s the writing, not the charachter. That goes for both Neji and Hinata.

Shyness, a scapegoat.

Or, Hinata endorses slavery -but she's cute so who cares?

There’s something quite incredible that happens with Hinata as a character and her loyal stans who fiercely defend her actions. There're a few things to point out about this particular topic and I can't start anywhere but on the main reason as to why she's left off the hook.

Let's establish this: Personality traits aren't synonyms for someone's ideology.

Let me expand on this: Hinata is shy, mostly quiet, and superficially "nice" to the people around her -therefore, her mannerisms clash with (or rather, disguises/downplays) her actions and/or what she supports. No one denies Hinata is soft-spoken, yet she downplayed the psychological and emotional trauma that Hizashi's torture at the hands of her father brought on Neji, putting herself as a victim of the same level as her cousin (the "be at peace" line she says during the preliminary rounds become particularly malicious when you have this specific context, because how could Neji be at peace with his role after such cruelty?)

Over and over, her stans use two specific arguments to defend her behavior, so I shall try to break them down:

1- “She was disowned and/or was too young to do anything”: While both of these statements are true, particularly in the first part when this issue is introduced, and I’m sure many anti-fans complain about her inaction, the fact that the only thing pro-fans take for “action” is to specifically stand (meaning, rebel) against Hiashi is very telling of their bias.

Hinata taking a stand against the slavery of her clan is just as easy as showing uneasiness with the situation (something she did not, never, at any point), or understanding Neji’s resentment. Instead, she acknowledges Neji’s anger only to quickly brush it off: paraphrasing, it will be something along the lines, “Oh, you’re annoyed because you’re a slave, you should get over it because I had it rough too” -the fact that she canonically knows the problem it presents to enslave people (let's remember: she witnessed her father torturing Hizashi as to "remind him" of his place), yet believes it to be something to “be at peace with”, it’s the thing we’re pointing out when saying she endorses her family's, let's call it, tradition.

However, It’s not only with Neji Hyüga with whom she displays no discomfort about their situation, the same happens with her interaction with Ko Hyüga during Pain’s arc; he expressively tells her he will be "never forgiven" (implying that he will be punished) should she get injured; yet, despite knowing this, she jumps in to “save” Naruto, fully aware of her incapacity to fight someone who literally destroyed Konoha by himself and not caring about Ko’s destiny at the hands of the Main Branch. [If this doesn't show how Hinata is, quite literally, not even minimally capable to be a commander in any single spectrum of the title, then I don't know what will. She's literally prioritizing her own feelings and/or desires over the lives of those under her command. It's true that she's not the heir of the Hyüga clan during this time, yet she's still in a superior position.}

In regard to this specific argument her stans use in her favor, let’s add something else to question it: Ko would have been punished non-other than Hiashi and Hanabi Hyuga, he specifically mentions both of them; which means that her sister, who is five years younger -eleven/twelve years old at this Arc’s time- acknowledges her position and the branch family members' (lower) place and takes immediate action over that difference. So either Hinata's [young] age has nothing to do with her (in)action on the matter of her family's enslavement practices, or Hinata isn't even as smart as Hanabi to understand how her clan works. So under this premise, she's either endorsing slavery or incredibly moronic, your choice.

[And to those who might want to use the "she knows how her clan works, she just never wanted to use her privilege to hurt lower members": There's not a single panel to support this. Not a single one. Furthermore, Ko's situation and her speech to Neji during the Chünin Exams point out she did nothing on the matter because she simply didn't care about them, too preoccupied with Naruto and feeling sorry for herself for not being acknowledged the way Hanabi was. Hinata is, simply, bad at fighting. She isn't squandering her potential for her sister's benefit, she is, simply put, bad.]

The argument “Hanabi and Hinata were raised differently” has no hold other than in fandom mentality, for they differed at the beginning simply on their training:

Source

Hiashi trained Hanabi whilst Hinata trained with Kurenai, but that only seemed to happen after her graduation as gënin, for all we know, and for what is pointed out in Hanabi's entrance in the First Databook, Hinata was raised as the Hyuga heir until her first graduation when she proved to be not in the standards expected for an heir her age. Even back then, Hanabi wasn't "officially" Hiashi's successor.

2- “She was afraid of Hiashi since he was/is her abuser”. While it’s true that Hiashi downgraded her and psychologically mistreated her when constantly demoting her value and, in exchange, raising Hanabi’s, there are few things to say about this:

a- It’s established in the Databook that she had a pleasant childhood, and while having carefree infancy doesn't exactly contradicts the idea of Hiashi being verbally abusive to her, it does clash with the idea of her being absolutely (that is, completely) scared of him rather than sad for the degradation.

Source

b- The relationship between Hinata and Hiashi dramatically changed during the second part of the manga (after the Chünin Exams, she’s seen smiling and bringing tea to both Hiashi and Neji), to the point where even when “disowned” she got no Cage Bird Seal (meaning, she still was part of the main family and therefore still possessed the privileges that came with it) and how Hiashi, even when away, went out of his way to ensure her safety (such as forcing Ko to protect her). To claim that she was “still afraid” of her father when there’s not only a single indication of her uneasiness but there’re quite obvious displays of their good-terms relationship it’s grasping at straws to defend something that doesn't exist. And while it's true that trauma can't be easily overcome, there's no indication of Hinata experiencing such a thing (claiming "internal struggle" is not a valid counterargument because, while plausible, is not canonically established during the second part of the manga).

c- It’s correct to point out what she had to go through, surely having such enormous pressure on her shoulders at such young age and not being able to deliver is harsh on everyone, but pointing out her position as a victim is often done either to dismiss her implication and endorsement on her clan’s slavery system and/or to downplay Neji’s own experiences with the abuse of the Main Family. Not only did he have to endure a similar type (meaning: worse) of degradation from Hiashi, but also had to experience the threat of physical torture and/or murder shall he disobey, something that Hinata canonically never was hinted to suffer from.

It could be reasonable to spare Hinata from any responsibility on the matter during the first part (I, personally, since she displayed enough knowledge about the matter and what it entailed, don’t think so), but during Shippuden -when she’s not young anymore by shinobi standards and her relationship with Hiashi is shown to be better, the arguments in her favor collapse completely.

Are we forgetting that those who see abuse/harassment and do nothing about it might as well be endorsing it?

To simply claim “oh, well, the real villain is Hiashi because he’s the one actually enslaving people” without taking into account those who are in power and decide not to intervene (every single Hokage, including now Kakashi and Naruto, who changed nothing), and those who know what the system entails yet also display no discomfort/do nothing (Hinata might not have “real power” but she still is part of the Main Family and keeps quiet when she could easily reach to her sister and speak about her discomfort with the matter), it’s simply looking at the superficial reflections of the issue -instead of taking care of the roots.

And truthfully, the fact that somehow Hiashi is the villain for enslaving his people (as I’ve said, they put the entire weight of the Hyuga clan’s problems solely over his shoulders despite the existence of a political system that supports him), yet his words during the war are taken by Hinata's stans as inexorably proof of the change that apparently her (alongside Neji) brought it’s quite… striking, to say the least. More considering that he was a character already proven to lie/hide important truths from (cadet) clan members before.

In addition, the Branch Family still possesses the Cage Bird Seal, while the main branch doesn’t: which means that, first, there’s still a distinction between both families that goes beyond political positions inside Konoha and goes into a physical difference: ones are marked while others aren’t -and second, whether Hiashi still performs torture or not doesn’t deny the quite real possibility of him re-incurring in such behavior, the threat of physical violence still stands for the branch family.

Taking care of the seal is also a task quite easy to do, should they truly want to take care of it, I’ll put here some ways to resolve it at the top of my mind:

1. There’s no canon proof nor mention that the Cage Bird Seal can’t be removed. Neji states that the seal disappears when those with the mark die, yet, he might not know if it can truly be erased or not, since with that knowledge many branch members might seek freedom.

2. Even if we take Neji’s words as truthful, and we believe the Seal can’t be removed, there’s absolutely no evidence to state that the seal can’t be counteracted by another seal (a technique similar to the one Orochimaru used against Minato’s seal).

3. The main family could easily get the seal so the Byakugan gets sealed when any member dies and the threat of someone torturing another member through it gets “nullified”.

Nothing of this is shown in the manga nor brought up by these individuals.

Source

Why is Naruto claiming this, if the Hyuga changed already? It's true that he was away for a long time, but are the changes Hiashi spoke about so little or subtle that Naruto wasn't able to see them during the duration of Shippuden? Which character are we calling a liar then, Hiashi, or Naruto?

And I’ll add this here, for good measure: Hinata might as well be endorsing slavery (she is, in fact, canonically endorsing it), and it will be fine from the narrative’s point of view because the manga ended with these issues not only not resolved, but accepted as the “lesser of all evils”; the problem here are her stans trying to save her from the implications of condoning such actions -when there’s no substance for their claims.

She either agrees with the Hyuga practices or she doesn’t, in this specific case, there’s no middle, no gray areas, because even ignoring the matter (despite knowing its existence), makes her an accomplice. You can still like her and very much enjoy her, but that doesn’t mean she’s free from problematic characterizations, as every single character introduced by Kishimoto. Edit to add: I received long ago an interesting ask that said: "You want Hinata, after everything she got through, to get the Seal?" and while that wasn't my point it further proves my point of view: if her stans are aware of what being marked implicates why are they looking the other way when it comes to the branch family situation? Why are they specifically ignoring Hinata's very purposefully dismissal of the matter? Why is Hinata the only character who needs to be spared? Her stans excuse Hinata's inaction because she was "too young", but condemn Neji, who's just a year older, for lashing out at her because "she's shy and nice" without minding his background and how Hinata is the embodiment of the Main Family that tortures him and he loathes.

Hinata's background allows us to understand where she comes from and why she's the way she is, yet it does not justify her behavior.

Context is for understanding, not condoning.

[marsmaximoff]

💔; crimson pain -a different kind of blood

content warning: gn!reader who plays as number 028. (dating) angst. mentions of death, financial struggles, vomit, blood and fainting.

word count: 1935. i got a bit too carried away 😬

author’s note: finally, here it is. i’ve had this idea for so long but the universe wasn’t on my side, it seems. i really wanted to post it sooner 🥲. as always, constructive criticism is welcomed, and i apologize for the mistakes (english is my third language). oh, and tysm for the support on the jun-ho headcanons post! what do you mean over 1000 likes? that is insane 🤧🤧. i hope you’ll enjoy this one too. 🩷🩷🩷🩷

the sugary umbrella lays on your shaky hand, under the excruciating yet unmasked gaze of the soldier. once the ‘pass’ is given, you stand up ready to get out of there. “you made it!” the voice of the one that has become the closest thing to a friend you could have in here relaxes you ever so slightly. “i almost didn’t. can’t believe i’m adding umbrellas to my traumas list.” having chosen the hardest doesn't surprise you much, not with unluckiness being a part of your life since you can remember. “well, im just happy you did. i thought the square was simple, but now i feel like we should have just chosen the triangle instead, you know? take a look at the survivors; most of them chose it and….” his words fade as an eerie feeling takes over your body, like something’s wrong. turning around, you’re met with one of them, staring right at you completely stiff, not even holding the weapon, merely some feet away.

“is he looking at us?” he can sense the uneasiness too, it seems. “let’s just go.” you can still feel his unfamiliar gaze on your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

the doors opening break the silence and the rare calmness of the room. “player 028?” your body freezes completely. a stomach drop follows, and your heart rate skyrockets. no. nonono. you’ve done nothing wrong. is it the dalgona? the figure was perfectly carved out; you made sure of it. are they gonna kill you? two soldiers stand by the entrance, waiting. with a final glance at your friend, who is most definitely thinking the same, you reach the pink guards. you don’t even know what to say, should you beg for mercy? try to stay as cooperative as possible? “be quick.” what? the other one grabs your arm and begins to lead you somewhere. “i-i don’t-” your hands are shaking. “please, i didn’t do anything wrong...” begging it is. “keep. walking.” the words are almost a whisper, tho demanding. a hint of desperation can be heard as well. “okay, okay, ok-” wait. why did those words- no. you’re going crazy. it’s just the anxiety, the fear. 

the stranger takes you to the bathrooms and quickly closes the door. you step back. again. and once more. what now? he wouldn’t shoot you here, right? and why the hell does he look so tense? his hands move to his mask and make it disappear, and with it, the remaining bit of sanity you had.

the nausea from a few seconds ago comes back stronger, maybe you will die today. “jun-ho…” your voice is almost unrecognizable, tho a miracle, given the struggle breathing has become. “what are you doing here?” “i could ask you the same thing.” he’s angry, of course he is, but the hurt in his eyes pains you the most. “no….you need to get out of here.” god. you can feel yourself spiraling. nothing makes sense. “i will. and im taking you with me.” “h-how- when did- i-“ cold sweat has completely taken over your palms. “wait���.wait. was it you?…. this morning?” he nods. “i found the damn card they gave you at yours and my brother’s house” what? “in-ho…?” why does everything keep getting worse? “have you seen him?” surely you would remember something like that, “n-no. maybe before the first game…..” you heed your legs’ warning to give up and sit down. “why are you doing this? i dont understand.” it’s not like he could. “they let you out. and you didn’t seek me. you hid yourself. again. i had to learn what was going on from a random man at the station. not you!!” silence between you had never felt this suffocating before, nor the atmosphere so uncanny. “don’t you realize how dangerous this is? they are killing innocent people! haven’t you realized?! 79 have died today. just because of a stupid cookie? what do you think you are doing?! you could have gotten yourself killed! you have no idea how worried i’ve been.” you don’t look at him. this shouldn’t be happening, he wasn’t supposed to find out.

“please, honey. this is insane and you know it. let’s get out of this madness.” the change in his tone of voice is evident, bordering the plea. it’s obvious he’s making an effort to remain calm, to use less confrontational comments. “i can’t.” “yes, you can. we’ll leave the same way i got here, don’t worry. no one will see us.” but you really can’t. you know that well. he sighs, “why didnt you tell me? how could you hide something like this from me? i thought we trusted each other.” 

distress seems to have replaced the blood running through your veins. “i would have helped you, always. i can still do it. if you need money, i’ll give it to you, it’s not a problem.” he keeps going after your negative. “i will. we can find another way-” “there isn't.” “of course there is. i have my savings, we’ll use them. i can ask for a raise. mr kim owes me after all this time. and i could do more hours-”

“its not FUCKING ENOUGH!” the sharpness of your words cuts all over his face. pain flows out, dripping a bloody red. more silence. you could drown in it. well, in for a penny, in for a pound.

“my parents’ house is gonna get seized.” a burning throat accompanies the confession. “i messed up like crazy.” the expected embarrassment doesn’t show up, instead, regret does. “it’s not your fault.” how can he say that? “it is. i got them into this, I'll get them out.” “and you think risking your life here is the only way to do it? thats not true. god, why didn’t you tell me?” you rub your temple. “that doesn’t matter now. you-you need to get out, all this is suspicious.” you are not only trying to avoid the question, the guards could notice at any moment. “i told them you were gonna throw up.” “vomit or not you’re still in the bathroom with a player.” for some seconds, the only noise that can be heard is the shatter of your heart. “honey, listen to me. your parents wouldn’t want this. they don’t even blame you, im sure. how could they ever wish for something at the expense of their daughter’s life?” but the guilt is too heavy, too imprinted on your mind. “it’s not about me. if it were my house, i wouldn’t care, but it’s theirs. i would never forgive myself for not doing anything.” “and there are so many things you could do that don’t need you participating in some psychopaths’ games! do you really not see how dangerous and demented this is? please leave with me.” “jun-ho. think about it. if i ended up here, even after they gave us a second chance, it’s because i want to. no one forced me, and i’m old enough to know what i’m doing.” your replies are getting colder, which you hate. but it’s the only way to make him understand. “besides, they’re all kids' games. they’re easy.” you can only hope he won’t sense your attempt at self-persuasion. “they are shooting people. you could be dead. and i would have never seen you again, or known what had happened.” the urge to cry gets stronger with every word, to dive into his arms and finally feel some sort of calmness, warmth, love.

“i’m sorry that i hurt you, that i made you worry and feel like i couldn’t trust you. but i won’t apologize for being here.” “i don’t want you to apologize. i only want you to get out of here and not die.” his desperation has increased so much it’s swallowed your own distress. “i’ve already won two, i can make it to the end.” you refute. but you read him easily, he is planning to get you out without your agreement, somehow.

“please.” now it’s you that pleads. “if you love me, let me stay.”

his eyes widen, you see them watering. his heartbreak drowns out yours. you are aware you’ve never said anything as painful before. it hurts. more than anything they could do to you here. perhaps you are already dead. “how can you ask me something like this?” maybe you’re desperate, or too blinded by the blame that’s rotting on your insides. or perhaps it’s love. “get out of here. stay safe. and don’t tell the police, jun-ho. don’t even think about stopping the games. i need this, don’t ruin it.” god you don’t recognize yourself anymore. how nice it would be to go back when things were easy. when remorse didn’t control yourself, and you were happy with him. “what do you expect me to do if you die?” “i won’t” “you can’t know that! how can i let the love of my life risk it all when i know i could do something?” understanding such perspective is effortless. if it were the other way around, you too would act like he is.

you approach him for the first time, god how you craved it. your hands cup his pained yet beautiful face and a tear drops. “i missed you.” he says quietly, unable to stay angry at you for long. “i missed you too.” you answer back, wiping the tear. “i missed your face, your voice, your touch. i miss your kisses.” things already ache enough like this, so you give in. the kiss is soft, so fragile, like a bit more intensity would make it disappear. “i love you.” he whispers resting his forehead on yours. “i love you too.”

a knock on the door destroys the illusion. shit. “lay on the floor.” “what?” “lay on the floor”, he repeats, walking towards the door while putting his mask back on, “and play along.” the door opens and the same voice from earlier speaks. “what do you think you’re doing in there?” may that unluckiness give you a rest for some minutes. “she passed out. she was taking too long and not answering back so i entered and found her unconscious.” footsteps grow louder. “player 028…. i don’t remember any health issues on the file… fuck.” you stay as still as possible, it sounds plausible, given the stress. “take care of it, i’ll let the boss know. and don’t take longer.” with that, he exits the room, and you thank his unwillingness to deal with sensitive issues.

sitting back up, jun-ho kneels to your level. “you look good for a faint.” a hint of a smile appears on your face. “are you mad at me?” “i was. mostly worried. i don’t like this at all.” you grab his gloved hands. “i’ll be okay, believe me.” he doesn’t. he can’t. “please, be careful. and think about it. if you change your mind, i’ll be waiting.” you won’t. you wouldn’t let yourself. but you nod. “you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. i hope you’ll carry that with you. i love you so damn much.” his voice breaks, and you tell yourself it’s time to go back, this conversation can only get more and more devastating for you both. you offer the bleeding and broken pieces of your heart. not meaning to cut him this time. and he takes them. how could he not treasure them? you kiss again. it tastes different this time. like farewell. 

and when you get out of the room, you both know that was the last time you’ll see each other. 

[wosoloml]

— second chance || emily fox x reader

[ “I messed up by breaking up with you, because ever since then, I’ve been missing you everyday.” ]

summary: After having her heart broken by Emily, the reader decided to seize the opportunity for a fresh start in her career by moving to London. Little did she know, her worst nightmare wasi about to come true. But sometimes, nightmares have a way of transforming into the sweetest of dreams.

from this request

wc: 1,744 words. | masterlist

warnings: fluff, mention of heartbreak, angst, secret flirtings, jealousy, happy end

——-

"There is no future for us. I need to leave," were the last words Emily said to me as she walked out of our apartment. Well, not our apartment anymore.

This was the last thing I expected when I came home after interviewing the local handball team, excited to share some amazing news I had received at work.

I walked in with the biggest smile on my face, and we both said at the same time, "I want to talk to you about something." Little did I know that by the end of the conversation, I’d be alone in what used to be our home.

Usually, I’m the one who shares big news first, but this time, I decided to let Emily go ahead. I thought she’d need time to process the fact that the Arsenal Football Club had offered me a position on their media team. Letting her start felt like the considerate thing to do.

What a mistake that turned out to be.

If I’m honest, I don’t even remember how I survived the first night. Curled up in my bed, crying my eyes out, and consumed by the question, "Why?"

Everything began a few years ago when we met at UNC. It started with a little crush on the athletic girl, stealing glances every time we passed each other in the hallway.

After months of back-and-forth and a lot of help from our friends Alessia and Lotte, we finally started dating. It was never easy, especially with football becoming such a big part of Emily���s life, but she always treated me like I was the girl of her dreams. I couldn’t have been happier.

Doing long-distance was a significant challenge for us. She signed her first professional contract with Racing Louisville FC, while I was just starting my first year at the sports journalism academy. But our love was always stronger—stronger than any distance or circumstances. We were supposed to be a team.

Everything became so much easier and better when she finally moved back after joining North Carolina Courage. It felt like the greatest relief.

For days after she told me she was coming back, I fell asleep and woke up with the biggest smile on my face.

Eleven months, two cats, and one apartment later, here I am—without anything. I lost the love of my life simply because she "needed to focus on her career."

We were a team, but now she preferred a solo performance.

She was even too cowardly to come here and pick up her things when I was home. The only message I got from her was:

"When does your shift start, so I know when to get my stuff?"

- EF

EF? Is she serious? We spent the last six years together, went through everything, and shared so many firsts. And the only thing she adds to her message are her initials?

It's pathetic.

---

At 9:00, I arrived at the base camp of THE Arsenal Women's Football Club for this year's training camp in Spain.

It’s been a year and a half since I made the decision to start fresh and begin a new life. A year and a half since a certain American girl broke my heart. Coming to London was the best decision I ever made.

One of my closest friends from college is here with me. Without Lessi and Lotte’s support in those early months, I don't know where I'd be. I came to London with nothing but two cats and a suitcase. Now, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.

"Y/N!!" I heard a familiar voice shout my name. As I turned around, I saw my favorite defender.

"Lottee, my girl!" I grinned, my smile growing wider as I pulled her into a tight hug.

"How’s my favorite girl? Ready for today’s media day? The first one during training camp in Spain?"

She chuckled. "I can’t wait to get sunburned. You know my British skin isn’t used to that much sun."

As I followed Lotte to her first media date of the day, we passed the changing room, and I suddenly heard a familiar voice. My heart stopped. This can't be real. No, it's not real—maybe I just overheard something.

"What's up, Y/N?" Lotte immediately noticed the shift in my behavior, but I tried to play it cool.

"Nothing. I just thought I heard someone's voice, but that can't be real," I replied.

She nodded, but I could sense a slight change in her mood.

I’m just paranoid. That’s it, for sure.

"Y/N? Could you possibly anchor the 'First Day at Arsenal' segment with our new signing today? It's not public yet that she transferred to London, but we wanted to take advantage of our training camp in Spain to shoot some nice scenes," the media team leader said.

I looked at him, confused. "I didn't know we got a new signing."

"Really? Everyone knows that. Especially Alessia and Lotte Wubben-Moy—they already know her from previous teams. Funny, huh?"

No. I’m just paranoid again. I know it. This cant be happening.

---

"Hey y/n".

That's it. That's the moment I’ve been scared of the whole day. No, scratch that—I've been scared of it for the last 18 months.

I haven’t heard her voice since that specific day she left me in our old apartment. I thought I’d be okay hearing my name from her lips again. God, was I wrong.

"Since when are you here?" I had to hold myself back from laughing at my own question. The first thing I asked her after she cut me out of her life was when she came to Arsenal. If someone had told me this morning that I’d say that, I would’ve laughed in their face.

"My plane from North Carolina landed this morning. It’s not official that I’ve transferred, but they decided spontaneously that I could join the girls here at camp already. I didn’t know you were working here, I promise. I would’ve told you about the transfer."

It’s over for me now. A small chuckle escaped my lips. "You would’ve told me? What would you have said to me? 'Hey, Y/N, by the way, I’m moving to the club where you work, after destroying your life a year and a half ago. Ready to ruin your new life too?' Because that’s what you’re doing right now. You’re destroying my new life. I came to London with nothing. But not with me, Emily. This time, you won’t take everything from me. This is my home."

I slightly shouted at her. She just stared at me. I’m done with her now. Turning around, I left.

---

As the days pass, I have to admit that maybe I’m not completely over her.

It all began when we both became nervous around each other during the "First Day at Arsenal" segment, and it continued with secret touches on the beach and our eyes searching for each other in a room full of teammates and staff.

It’s been difficult to admit that I still get butterflies when she’s near, and that this chapter isn’t as closed as I once thought. Am I ready to let her in again? She hurt me in a way no one else ever has, and that’s something I’ll never forget. But I just miss her, that’s all. Nothing more... or is there more?

It was our last evening in Spain, and the entire staff and team went out for drinks at a local bar. This time, my mind wasn’t occupied by a certain brunette American.

Instead, it was an Irish defender who caught my attention.

It wasn’t the first time Katie McCabe and I had spent time together outside of work. I wouldn’t exactly call it flirting, but we always had a good time laughing together. She knows how to talk to a woman, and let’s just say she’s not hard on the eyes either, so it’s a win-win situation, isn’t it?

When Katie rested her hands on my waist, it was enough to set Emily off. She grabbed me by the arm and pulled me outside. I was too stunned by her actions to even react.

"Is she your new girl?" she asked, her voice sharp. I had to hide a smirk.

"What do you mean, Emily?"

"You heard me. Is Katie McCabe your new girlfriend?" I chuckled again, maybe a bit tipsy from the drinks Katie had bought for me.

"No."

Emily didn’t believe me. I could see it in her eyes.

"Then explain to me why you’re giggling at every statement she makes and why the hell are her hands allowed on your body?"

My face grew serious. "What’s this, Emily? Are you jealous of someone who’s just being friendly? You? The one who ended this relationship, if I may remind you?"

That was it. That was the boiling point for Emily.

"I messed up by breaking up with you, because ever since then, I’ve been missing you every single day," she shouted, her voice frantic. My eyes widened, and my heart melted at her words.

Without thinking, I leaned in and pressed my lips to hers.

"Finally!" Lotte and Alessia cheered from inside the bar. Finally.

The plane landed in London. Coming back home, my hands locked with the girl I’ve always loved. This is us now—forever.

[martinsace]

SHE A GOOD GIRL, FOR ME SHE A…

‣‣‣ pairing: uconn paige bueckers x fem! journalist oc

‣‣‣ warnings: cheating (on oc’s lame bf), sexual content with little plot, cursing and sexual language, religious guilt, minors dni

‣‣‣ summary: in front of cameras and her very, very straight boyfriend, lacey is the perfect girl next door type. but when she’s alone with paige? that’s a different story.

‣‣‣ author speaks: this is my first time writing smut eek i hope it lives up to your hopes and dreams

————————————————————————————

“paige, how does it feel to have beat the number one team in the nation?” i ask the blonde in front of me.

paige bueckers’ eyes are piercing into me with an intensity that makes me knees weak, a coy smile playing at her lips. she does those stupid fucking rizz hands and i swear i feel my heart drop down to my ass.

“it feels great. i definitely had some extra motivation today, so i still feel pretty fired up.” she smiles innocently, pretending what she just said has absolutely nothing to do with the person who was holding the microphone to her face in front of a camera projecting to the gamecast. this bitch.

i fight back every urge in my body trying to get me to smile and keep a straight face. “that’s awesome, should we be expecting more of this energy in the future?” loaded question, but that’s my job. screw this, with the way she’s looking at me i wish i could take off this media badge now.

she shrugged her shoulders. “hopefully.” oh my god.

“that’s all we have time for, thanks so much paige.”

she jogs away, not before subtly winking. i swear to god im going to kill her. after i fuck her.

paige had a great game, leading the game in both points in assists and filling out the stat sheet all around. not only did they beat south carolina, but she got a career high with 36 points.

needless to say, she was motivated.

3 hours before the game

“fuck, paige, don’t fucking stop-”

lacey cut herself off with a moan as her acrylics dug into paige’s shoulders. she rocked her hips feverishly against the blondes fingers, grinding her hips down into her lap over and over again. paige curled into her, watching the brunette borderline ride her fingers with an open mouthed smile as her tits bounced in paige’s face.

truth be told, the reason lacey had come over was to pick up her hoodie. it was an innocent visit, but they never ended up that way. not with paige. she was intoxicating.

“i know ma, i got you. here, lay back”

paige tenderly moved the girl from her lap and laid her so her back was on the bed and her head on a pillow so her whole body was on display. paige positioned herself between her legs and threw one over her shoulder, sliding two of her fingers back in sloppily. lacey let out another moan, arching her back off the bed. paige’s name ripped through her throat and fell from her lips like a prayer, though she wasn’t sure what she was praying for.

she had always been the most christian, by the book straight girl you could conjure in your imagination. until she met paige, drunk at her first frat party. she caught the basketball players attention, and the affair began. lacey almost didn’t even remember it the next day. yet then she did, and she couldn’t forget it. she couldn’t forget paige. she could hardly remember her boyfriend at this point.

paige’s fingers fit inside her like lacey was made as a mold for the blonde. she plunged in and out of her messily, but with ease and grace. lacey was gripping the sheets, ministrations and guttural moans spilling from her lips without a second thought. paige just had that effect on her.

“fuck— fuck p, i’m close, you’re so fucking good, baby—“

paige put a hand on her stomach, pressing down with every thrust into her. “yeah? i’m good? you close ma?” every word fueled her confidence, drinking in the praise like an elixir. her thumb came up to press circles onto the brunettes clit, forcing another moan out of her. “shit, yes, fuck yes you’re so good—“ she was cut off by a loud moan as paige used the hand on her stomach to circle under her hips and prop her hips up.

“FUCK, aw shit paige fuck, i’m gonna fucking cum-“

paige leaned over, peppering hot kisses to the thigh of the leg that was thrown over her shoulder and muttering against it, “i got you baby. cum for me ma, make a mess on my hand, you got that.”

it was like that flipped a switch, that was all she needed. her orgasm practically ripped through her body, leaving her limp. paige kept fucking her through it, huskily praising her. when lacey’s breathing became heavy and her leg began to get limp, she slowed her pace and pulled her fingers out. she let the brunettes leg down and pulled her arm out from under her and, after examining her fingers for a moment, looked at the fucked out girl under her. “open your mouth.”

without a second thought, she did. she would do anything paige said, and she didn’t even know why. she shouldn’t even know paige. but here she was, about to suck cum off her fingers.

she took paige’s fingers into her mouth slowly, making eye contact with paige’s ocean blue eyes as she swirled her tongue around the digits and released them with a pop. “aw shit” paige muttered. she reexamined her fingers and, once satisfied, grabbed her shirt from the end of the bed and pulled it over her head. she gave lacey her discarded clothes as well before laying down next to her, beginning to doomscroll on instagram.

they laid like that for a short while, both looking at their respective phones before lacey spoke. “anthony’s probably coming to the game tonight.”

this piqued paige’s interest. she looked at lacey almost curiously, somewhat skeptically, still holding her phone. “your boyfriend anthony?”

“yeah. that one.”

paige didn’t really know what to make of this. she knew lacey had a boyfriend. she didn’t really care. she didn’t ever plan on meeting him, so she wasn’t sure why lacey was bringing him to one of the most defining games in her career.

“you’re bringing him?” she asked, testing the waters.

lacey scrunched up her nose at the sheer thought of 2 and a half hours with her boyfriend. “god, no. he’s going with his frat brothers or whatever.”

this relaxed paige. it wasn’t like they were together, or that she wanted to be, but she didn’t really want to meet the boyfriend of the girl she’s fucking.

but it definitely made her want to put on a show.

tags: @dennyluvsblog @averyisnotpresent

[wonderjanga]

Ms. Kent and Billy

it’s 1959 and it’s been a year ever since Billy got his powers. Life is good and he found out about a pie eating contest happening in some little town in Kansas called Smallville. If you were to win, you’d get a whole $100.

Billy: “A hundred whole dollars… I could get food for weeks- no, months with that!”

Martha(Ma Kent): *appeared behind him* “Are you gonna participate in the contest?”

Billy: *startles* “Uh… Yes?”

Martha: “Aren’t you a little skinny for that?”

Billy: “Wha- I’m not skinny! I don’t think I’m too skinny at least.”

Martha: *looks him up and down wondering if he’d let her cook a bunch of food for him* “Sure. Hey, I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. Are you new to Smallville?”

Billy: “Yes. This is my first time here actually.”

Martha: “Oh? So you’re just here for the pie contest?”

Billy: “Yup. I’m gonna eat as much pie as I can, and then I’m gonna get the money.”

Martha: “Will you tell me if they’re good?”

Billy: “Sure? Why?”

Martha: “Cause me and my mom made all the pies for the competition!”

Billy: “Oh, that’s amazing!” *looks starstruck*

Martha: *sounds proud* “I know.”

Billy didn’t end up winning the competition. He actually ended up vomiting after his first pie because his little malnourished self couldn’t handle all of that. Martha was there though to clean him up with a rag. They got to know each other better after that and soon enough, Billy would transform into Marvel, fly over to Smallville, and hang out with her. Martha even got to know Freddy because he would sometimes fly over with Billy too. Then the time bubble happened and fast forward 50 years. Billy, after panicking about his entire life and everything he knows it being over, went to go see Martha, who was conveniently still near Smallville.

Billy: *knocks on the door*

Martha: “Coming!” *opens the door and looks around seeing no one*

Billy: “Down here.”

Martha: *looks down to Billy and pauses to stare*

Billy: “Heeeeeeeey Martha.” *awkward wave*

Martha continued to stare at him for a solid minute before she rubbed her eyes, and then rubbed them again for good measure.

Martha: “Billy…?”

Billy: “Martha…?”

Martha: “Oh- my… Oh my Gosh!” *kneels down so she can look him over even going as far as to pinch his little cheeks to make sure he’s real*

Billy: “Ow! Martha, stop!” *bats away her hands*

Martha: *keeps trying to pinch him aways* “Are you real?”

Billy: “Yes?”

Martha: *has seen too much nonsense due to Clark* “Well, if you’re the real Billy uhm… Where did we first meet?”

Billy: “A pie eating contest here?”

Martha: “Hmm… That might be too easy… What pies did I make for the contest?”

Billy: “Wha- I don’t know!? How am I supposed to remember that??”

Martha: “Okay… Too hard. How about you tell me something only you would’ve known about a fourteen year old me.”

Billy: “Like what?”

Martha: “Like something secret I told you.”

Billy: “Uhm… You had a crush on Elvis and said you wanted your future husband to be just like him?”

Martha: *stares before feeling herself cringe at her teenage self* “Okay, I’ll assume you’re the real Billy. Come in, bud.”

They caught up after that. They even decided to make pies together again. It was fun. You would just see them in the kitchen together talking about whatever, normally old lady stuff, and baking. Then, when Grandpa Kent came home…

Jonathan(Pa Kent): “Martha, I’m home!” *walks to the kitchen and pauses when he sees Billy and Martha*

Martha and Billy: *stare back at him*

Jonathan: “Martha is that an another grandbaby, clone, or cousin of Clark’s?”

Martha: “None of those. This is Billy. He’s a friend of mine.”

Jonathan: “Martha, you’re just befriending eight-year-olds now? Where are his parents?”

Billy: “They’re dead, mister! But don’t worry, me and Martha met back in ‘59. We go way back.”

Jonathan: *stares for a solid minute* “Wait a darn moment… were you caught up in all that Fawcett business?” *heard about it on the news*

Billy: “Yup!”

Martha: “What Fawcett business?”

That’s how Billy was led to explain the entirety of the time bubble and suspendium and all that. The Kents thankfully welcomed him with open arms. After this entire incident, Billy showing up to the farm was a regular occurrence. He could bake with Martha and help Mr. Jonathan out as much as he could on the farm. Then, one of the Kents other grandchildren showed up. (Billy was basically their grandbaby too, not that the Batson knew)

Jonathan: *trying to fix their tractor because it broke down for whatever reason*

Billy: *standing to the side, holding a toolbox and giving him tools whenever he asks*

Jon: *flies over from Metropolis* “Grandpa! Grandpa-” *does a double take when he sees Billy* “Wait, who’re you?”

Billy: “I’m Billy!”

Jonathan: “You heard him Jon. He’s Billy.”

Jon: *suddenly self-conscious of the fact that he’s flying in front of this kid and kinda just revealed his identity* “I’m uh… Jon.” *slowly floats down to land on the ground*

Billy and Jon: *stare at each other*

Jonathan: “Billy, can you pass me the diamond tip screwdriver?”

Billy: “Sure!” *passes it to him*

Yeah… Jon was a little confused as to who this random kid was. He was also a little confused as to why he refers to Jon’s grandpa has Mr. Jonathan but refers to Jon’s grandma as Martha. Did he live with grandma and grandpa? Is he another one of his dad’s cousins? Jon doesn’t think the boy’s a kryptonian but he might be wrong. Anyways, he’s making everything weird! Though it’s a sort of good kind of weird? His grandma is acting… younger? They also keep referencing things Jon has no idea about. (Late 50s pop culture) The kid- Billy, seems nice enough though. He has no problems playing with Jon so that’s awesome! Jon is so happy to have a friend away from home, but he’s still confused as to why Billy is at the farm.

Jon: “Dad, why do some people live on farms?”

Supes: “Because they’re farmers…?”

Jon: “No, but like what if they aren’t farmers, and they just help the farmers that are already there? Like one day they just showed up and decided to help around.”

Supes: “Well, I guess the closest thing you’re looking for would be a farmhand. Why are you asking?”

Jon: “Well, there’s this kid that lives with grandma and grandpa now-”

Supes: “WHAT?!”

Yeah, neither Ma Kent or Pa Kent have told Clark about this. It kind of slipped their minds.

Bonus interactions:

Before Pa Kent Came Home…

Billy: “Who’s that?” *looking at a photo of Pa and Ma Kent together*

Martha: “My husband.”

Billy: “Husband…?” *suddenly sad he missed a bunch of stuff from Martha’s life* “Oh…”

Martha: You sound upset. What’s wrong?

Billy: “Nothing.”

Twenty Years Ago When Clark Was Still a Kid…

Supes: Ma, who’s that? *looking at a photo of a nine year old Billy and a fourteen year old Martha*

Martha: “Oh, that’s Billy and I.”

Supes: “Who’s Billy?”

Martha: “An old friend of mine. He uhm… disappeared one day. I don’t know what happened to him.”

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

It’s My Job

Summary: The reader’s having a rough night but the stranger at the bar decides to offer some assistance when she has nowhere to go...

Pairing: Bodyguard!Dean x reader

Word Count: 1,200ish

Warnings: language, tiny bit of violence

A/N: Enjoy!

______________

Someday you’d have to thank that boy in seventh grade that taught you how to throw a punch. 

Don’t put your thumb inside your fist unless you want to break it. Do a small twist of your wrist right before impact to deliver more momentum. Throw your body weight behind it to make it hurt more. That’s what you got for being lab partners with the class bad boy but at least you had a chance because of him. 

He neglected to tell you your knuckles would ache, your skin would scrape open and bleed, or even that the adrenaline would make you so jumpy you’d nearly trip on your own feet when you sprinted the hell out of there.

It was eleven at night, your feet taking you to the nearest open door, a bar from the looks of it. You took a deep breath when you got inside, nearly groaning when you saw how dead it was.

“We’re closing up. Tuesday is an early night,” said the bartender, the lone man at the bar swigging down the last of his drink, slapping a few bills down and spinning in his seat to stand.

“No, you don’t under-”

“Out,” said the bartender, your head shaking. “Or I call the cops. I’ve had enough shit for one night.”

“No, I need the cops, I-”

“Out,” said the bartender, shooing you out after the man, the door closing up tight behind.

“No, I...” you said, turning your head to catch sight of the man from the alley hanging out by a wall about three stores down.

“Hey,” said the man nearby, scratching his head, the expression not matching his sour face. “Can you pretend to give me directions while you tell me what the fuck is going on?”

“What?” you said, glancing behind him, the guy’s face in a snarl.

“Don’t look at him,” said the man, making shoulder shrugs like he was confused. “You said you need cops and your hand is messed up so I’m guessing douchebag down there did something?”

“W-Was walking and he grabbed me but I hit him and ran...” you said, remembering what he said, fake pointing to an area behind him, wearing a forced smile.

“I see. There’s a black muscle car just up the street behind you. You walk that way and I’ll deal with the asshole back there,” said the man, a dark smile on his face. 

“But-”

“Trust me, kind of my job, sweetheart,” he said, pretending to make a thank you expression, spinning around and walking down the street. You tried to do what he said, not taking too many steps before you heard a thump on the ground, your head turning to find the man shaking out his hand over the out cold alley guy. “He went down like a lightweight. A little proper training and you probably would have gotten him out yourself.”

“Y-Yeah,” you said, the guy pulling his belt from the loops, tying it around the alley guy’s wrists.

“That’ll keep him until the cops show,” said the man, pulling out his phone, giving it a few presses. “Hey Derek...Yeah, it’s Dean. You on duty tonight? Got a pervy assclown down near Chuck’s that could use with an ambulance and an assault charge...he went after some chick in the alley nearby. She got away, bumped into me...yeah, I’ll be sure to tell her what a lucky night she’s having...see you in a few buddy,” he said hanging up the phone. “Cops will be here soon.”

“Thanks...Dean,” you said, the man chuckling.

“You’re very welcome whoever you are,” he said with a smile, squinting his eyes. “You seem super familiar, like extremely familiar. We didn’t go to the same school or something, did we?”

“I’m...I’m in a movie that just came out,” you said, glancing down. “I didn’t realize...”

“Ah, I’ve seen that trailer a thousand times. They won’t stop playing it,” he said, glancing back at the alley guy. “Scumbag like him probably doesn’t give a shit if you’re famous or not. You might want to think about some protection though...maybe a self-defense class at the very least.”

“Maybe...maybe I’ll do that,” you said, nodding your head. “Thank you.”

“I don’t wanna,” you groaned a few weeks later, sitting in a conference room at a protection agency, your manager rolling her eyes at you.

“Okay, your knight in shining armor had a point, Y/N. We were headed down this road anyways,” she said.

“But I took the class. I can kick someone’s ass now,” you said, earning a small laugh from her. “You did too! Anybody messes with us, we got this.”

“Alright Rambo,” she said with a giggle. “Maybe you don’t need one all the time but for events and stuff. Besides, maybe you’ll find a cute bodyguard? Find the Costner to your Houston.”

“I ain’t no damsel,” you said, crossing your arms as the door opened.

“Oh, well that’ll make my job...” said the man in a suit, blinking his eyes at you. 

“Dean?” you said, standing up. “What are...”

“I’m a bodyguard,” he said. “When I said to get some protection, I didn’t think you’d actually take me up on that let alone pick my agency.”

“He’s cuter than you said he was,” said your manager, giving Dean a little wave.

“Sara,” you growled, Dean smirking down at you.

“Would you like to start the interview, Ms. Y/L/N?” asked Dean, nodding to the chairs.

“This may seem entirely unprofessional but why were you drinking at a bar by yourself late at night?” you asked, Dean raising an eyebrow.

“I was supposed to go on a blind date that night but got stood up. I was somewhat pissed off so I had a drink or two,” he said. “You should give her a call and thank her.”

“You think I didn’t have the situation handled myself?” you asked, Dean shrugging his shoulders.

“Maybe, maybe not. I took the guess work out of it for you though. That’s my job. You don’t have to wonder if I’ll kick the guy’s ass. You know I will,” he said.

“You’re kinda cocky,” you said.

“You’re kinda stubborn,” he said.

“You’re hired,” you said.

“Already knew I was,” he said, looking you up and down. “My manager will provide you both with a full work history on myself as well as work with Ms. Saxley over there to determine your needs more specifically.”

“That’s it?” you asked, Dean smiling but all business.

“No, you and I are just getting started. Let’s get a coffee down the street and see how well you can follow a few rules to start with.”

_____________

[mim16s]

Survival in Game

Cho Hyun-ju x Autistic!Fem!Reader

•I'm not autistic, but I have a brother and a cousin who are, so I used my experience living with them to write this character. English is not my first language, but I tried my best to write this without spelling errors. This is my first story on this app, so I hope it is good.

This wasn’t what you wanted for your life. Honestly, you didn’t even understand how you had gotten to this point. All you wanted was to take care of your mother, to repay all the effort she had put into you. And you knew how hard it had been for her.

She got pregnant young and raised you on her own, with no support system. Your father? Well, you never knew him. He disappeared as soon as he found out about the pregnancy. Your grandparents, embarrassed that she had gotten pregnant so young and without even getting married, abandoned her too. That’s how your mother faced the world alone, with you in her arms.

And things got even harder. You knew that being autistic made everything more challenging for her. As a child, you didn’t speak, and your first words came only after many therapy sessions, which were expensive. But she never gave up. You remembered seeing her come home, exhausted after a long day of work, but always with a smile.

— Mom is fine. You’re everything I need to have strength, — she would say, trying to hide her exhaustion.

But you knew the truth. You knew how much she fought, how she struggled to meet all your needs, to make sure you never lacked anything. Everything fell apart when she got sick. You were 19. The illness took all her strength, and she could no longer work. That’s when the weight of the world fell on you. You had to find a job, but no matter how hard you tried, no one wanted to give you a chance. When they saw you weren’t neurotypical, they wouldn’t give you a chance.

Life became a daily struggle. You survived doing small jobs here and there, while some kind neighbors helped with food baskets. But the money was never enough, and the debts started piling up. Your mother’s treatments were expensive, and with each unpaid bill, the despair grew.Then he appeared. The man in the suit.He appeared out of nowhere, as if fate had sent him. With a piercing look, holding a briefcase in his hand. He stopped in front of you while you were resting in one of the subway chairs, with a smile that made you just as uncomfortable as it did curious.

— Looks like you need an opportunity, don’t you?—You hesitated, unsure of what to respond. He seemed to know exactly who you were and what you were going through.

— I want to propose something to you.

And that’s when you got a card with geometric symbols and a phone number. You stared at it, your heart racing without fully understanding it.

---

And now, here you were: in a strange hall, surrounded by people you didn’t know, in a place you had never seen before, wearing clothes you didn’t even remember putting on, and the fabric itched. You weren’t the only one confused. Perplexed looks crossed the room, and nervous whispers filled the air.

Then they appeared: masked soldiers, wearing uniforms that seemed more threatening than functional. You couldn’t help but shrink back, a heavy feeling that something was terribly wrong.They began to speak, explaining what was happening.

— Excuse me! — A voice echoed. Your eyes followed the sound until they landed on a beautiful woman, who seemed just as indignant as she was confident. — They said it would just be some games, but you kidnapped us. And you still want me to believe this?

— We apologize, — one of the masked soldiers replied, the voice distorted by some sort of modifier. — It was a necessary measure to ensure the confidentiality of the games we are organizing.

Questions started popping up from all sides, but the answers provided no comfort, only more tension. You wanted to understand better, but it was hard to follow. The questions, the sounds around you, the smell of sweat and fear in the hall, everything was pulling you in different directions. You began to rock back and forth slightly, trying to focus. It was something that always helped. But the discomfort persisted.

---

You were led to a large open field, surrounded by high fences and cameras that seemed to record every movement. It was announced that the first game would begin soon. When a desperate man screamed that, if anyone was eliminated, they would die, a chill ran down your spine. It couldn’t be true... right? But when the game began, the illusion of safety shattered. The sharp sound of a gunshot cut through the air. Your eyes widened, shock paralyzing you. That sound — loud, deafening to your sensitive hearing — seemed to hammer in your head. You instinctively wanted to cover your ears to block out that deafening noise, but you felt someone hold your hands firmly, preventing any sudden movements.

— Don’t move, it’s dangerous. — The voice came from behind. It was the beautiful woman from before. There was something in the firmness of her tone that managed to cut through your panic, bringing some calm.

— My ears hurt, — you murmured, your voice trembling.

— I know. But you have to hold on. Just a little longer.

Chaos spread around you. People were screaming, some running in desperation, while others were falling to the sound of new gunshots. You felt terror take hold, a heavy knot in your throat. Your legs felt like stone.

— If you don't cross the line in time, they'll still kill you! Look at the doll's eyes! They're cameras that scan for motion! But it's not able to detect you if you're behind something! — screamed one of the players, his voice desperate. — So if you short, line up behind someone who's taller than you!

Your body wouldn’t respond. You were frozen, the noise and the fear trapping you in place.The beautiful woman stopped in front of you, blocking your view of the rest of the field.

— Keep going. — Her voice was urgent, yet gentle. — You need to keep going. Don’t worry, I’ll stay in front of you. Just follow me, okay?

You couldn’t verbalize, but when the music started again, you followed her. Each step behind her felt like an eternity, but she kept her promise, protecting you as you moved forward.

After the game ended, everyone was taken back to the room. The atmosphere was heavy, filled with fear and despair. Lost looks, uncertain steps — everyone seemed terrified, and you were no different.Sitting on one of the beds, you rocked back and forth, an automatic motion, a desperate attempt to find comfort. But it didn’t help. Your breathing was uneven, the sounds around you seemed amplified, and all you wanted was to leave. Your mind raced in circles, always returning to the same question: Why me? You just wanted to help your mother. Everything you did was for her, and now you were trapped here, too scared to do anything.Then the voice of the masked soldiers echoed through the room, imposing order, the man from before who said he had already participated in this game proposed the vote.At first, the idea of voting seemed like an escape. A chance to get out of that terrible situation.

But then they revealed the amount of money accumulated by the people who had died. The sum gleamed in a giant safe suspended in the room. The shine of the money seemed to hypnotize some. Murmurs started to arise. Many were considering staying. You felt a tightness in your chest.

When the vote began, the sound of buttons being pressed was like a constant drum in your ears. You watched the people go to the ballot box, one by one, pressing their votes. Some hesitated, others went with determination.When it was your turn, your hands trembled as you walked up to the ballot box. The panel blinked in front of you: a circle to stay and an “X” to leave. You could barely see properly, your vision blurred by the tears at the corners of your eyes.Your finger pressed the “X.” You wanted to leave, go home. You needed your mother as much as she needed you. But when the final vote was recorded and the numbers were revealed, your heart sank.The majority had chosen to stay.Panic took over you again. Your fingers began to tremble uncontrollably, and you went back to your bed, feeling your whole body tighten. Your mind was in chaos. The rocking movement returned, but this time even more intense, as if your body was trying to compensate for the avalanche of emotions.You felt helpless. You wanted to scream, to cry, but all you could do was try to hold onto the little control you still had.

The terror was greater than anything you had ever felt before. And, even worse, it was just the beginning

[tricktster]

When I was in 8th (or possibly 9th?) grade physical sciences class we had a movie day where we watched videos about the elements.

Except that one of my classmates (who I will refer to here as Mike M) decided to write “SHCOOL GO BOOM” (sic) in a library book the day prior…

And, you know, the scarred-by-the-very-recent-9/11 administration decided late in the day that it constituted a bomb threat so credible that we all had to evacuate to the gym, so as a result we only got through a video about exactly one element:

74

W

(That’s Tungsten for you lame-os who don’t know the most likely periodic table symbols to come up during pub trivia.)

Also, it was one of my first bomb threats and clearly mildly traumatic given that I cannot remember a single other thing about that class, including the name of the teacher, but boy oh boy do I remember that we only made it through Tungsten.

Anyway, this video was specifically about how we are running out of Tungsten, which will cause absolute bedlam because Tungsten is essential for the filament used in incandescent light bulbs. I believe it posited that if we kept consuming Tungsten at our current rate, by 2060 we wouldn’t be able to light our homes.

At the time, this was not particularly concerning for me, a child who did not purchase lightbulbs.

Anyway, what’s up, it’s 2025, I now use like 100% LED RGBICWW smart bulbs that I have set up in a variety of elaborate routines to confound and annoy my loved ones, but I gotta hand it to you Mike M…

This may have not been the desired effect you were going for when you wrote SHCOOL GO BOOM in that library book circa roughly 2002, but now whenever something goes remotely wrong with my dumb dumb smart lights, even though I intellectually know there is no filament involved, my first thought is always

OH FUCK NOW I GOTTA DEPLETE OUR LIMITED TUNGSTEN RESERVE YET AGAIN AND AT THIS RATE WHEN I’M SEVENTY I’LL HAVE TO USE A FUCKING CANDLE

[mrsgucci24]

~The Middle Ground~

Synopsis: you're caught in the playful, tension-filled friendship between Joe Burrow and Ja’Marr Chase, where banter turns flirtatious, and the lines between friendship and something more begin to blur. Authors Note: I think I’m going to turn this into a series which is why I kept the ending like this! Im excited about this so I hope y’all like it 🩵🤎 Warnings: none (but as always lmk)

Being best friends with Joe Burrow and Ja’Marr Chase was nothing short of chaotic. From football road trips to spontaneous hangouts, your life was a whirlwind of teasing, laughter, and constant competition. But lately, something *else* lingered beneath the surface—flirty comments, lingering touches, and smoldering looks that had your heart racing and your mind spinning.

It wasn’t unusual for Joe and Ja’Marr to be playful with you—that was their dynamic. But recently, the lines between teasing and tension had started to blur. And being caught in the middle? It was starting to feel a lot less like a joke.

---

It started on a random Tuesday, with the three of you at Joe’s place. You were curled up on the couch, scrolling through your phone while the guys argued over what to order for dinner.

“Why do we even ask her?” Ja’Marr said, shooting you a look that made your stomach flutter. “She’s just gonna pick something boring, like salads or chicken wraps.”

“Excuse me,” you shot back, sitting up. “I have excellent taste.”

“Yeah,” Joe chimed in, his voice smooth and low as his eyes flicked to yours. “She’s not the boring one here. Remember when *you* ordered plain cheese pizza three nights in a row, Ja’Marr?”

“It’s a classic!” Ja’Marr protested, his tone defensive. He smirked, leaning forward slightly. “Besides, I know how to keep it interesting. You just haven’t seen that side of me yet.”

The heat in his voice made your cheeks flush, and you quickly glanced away, only to catch Joe watching you with that knowing smile. He leaned back, his arm resting casually on the back of the couch, his fingers brushing against your shoulder. “Don’t let him fool you,” Joe said smoothly. “He talks a big game, but I’ve got the follow-through.”

You laughed nervously, suddenly feeling very *aware* of the tension in the room. “You two are impossible,” you muttered, trying to refocus on your phone, but their playful gazes lingered.

---

The next weekend, the three of you hit a local bar to unwind. You were nursing your drink when a random guy approached, striking up a conversation. He wasn’t unpleasant, but he wasn’t exactly captivating, either. Before you could politely excuse yourself, Joe appeared at your side, his hand settling lightly on your lower back.

“Hey,” Joe said, his voice firm yet casual as he smiled at the guy. “Sorry to interrupt, but I need to borrow her for a minute.”

The guy hesitated, clearly debating whether to argue, but one glance at Joe’s confident demeanor was enough to send him packing.

“Thanks for that,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “Though I could’ve handled it.”

Joe chuckled, leaning in slightly, his voice low enough that it sent a shiver down your spine. “I’m sure you could’ve, but he didn’t deserve your attention.”

Before you could respond, Ja’Marr slid in on your other side, his grin unmistakably smug. “What’s going on here?” he asked, his tone laced with curiosity and a hint of something more.

“Joe scared off a guy,” you said, rolling your eyes.

Ja’Marr laughed, his hand brushing yours as he leaned closer. “Classic Joe. Always trying to play the hero.”

“Somebody’s gotta look out for her,” Joe said smoothly, his eyes flicking between you and Ja’Marr.

Ja’Marr smirked, his voice dropping just enough to make your breath hitch. “Yeah, but I think she likes it when I look out for her.”

Your cheeks burned as you glanced between the two of them, their gazes now locked in what felt like a silent competition. “You two are ridiculous,” you said, trying to break the tension, but the heat in the air was undeniable.

---

The breaking point came during a casual Sunday at the park. The three of you were tossing a football around, but as usual, it turned into a full-blown competition. Ja’Marr had just completed a one-handed catch when he turned to you, his grin mischievous.

“Pretty good, huh?” he said, tossing the ball your way.

“Not bad,” you replied, throwing it back. “But let’s see you do that without the theatrics.”

Ja’Marr jogged over to you, standing closer than necessary. “Oh, you think you can challenge me?”

“Maybe,” you said, trying to sound confident despite the way his proximity made your pulse race.

“Please,” Joe cut in, his smirk easy but his tone sharp. “She knows I’ve got better hands.”

Ja’Marr raised an eyebrow, stepping even closer to you. “That so? Maybe she should decide for herself.”

Joe’s expression didn’t falter as he walked over, his presence commanding as he stood on your other side. “She already knows,” Joe said simply, his voice dropping.

Your heart pounded as their attention turned fully to you, the tension between them crackling like static in the air. “You’re both ridiculous,” you said, trying to sound lighthearted, but your voice betrayed the nerves creeping in.

Ja’Marr grinned, his voice low and teasing. “Admit it—you like it.”

Joe leaned in slightly, his lips curving into a smirk. “Yeah, she does.”

Caught between them, you felt your breath catch. Their banter had always been playful, but this was different—charged, intimate, and impossible to ignore. You glanced between them, their eyes watching you intently, and for a brief moment, it felt like the whole world had narrowed to just the three of you.

---

Later that evening, as you sat between them on the couch, the tension had settled into something quieter but no less electric. Ja’Marr stretched, his arm draping casually over the back of the couch, his fingers brushing your shoulder. Joe glanced over, his eyes lingering on you with an intensity that sent warmth rushing to your cheeks.

“So,” Ja’Marr said, his tone teasing but his gaze serious. “You ever gonna tell us who your favorite is?”

You laughed nervously, trying to deflect. “I don’t play favorites.”

Joe leaned closer, his voice smooth and steady. “Maybe you should.”

Your breath hitched, and as their eyes locked on you, you realized one thing for certain: this was far from over.

[domesticgoddess22]

wish upon a cowboy

chapter 5: giver/taker

pairing: raider!joel miller x fem!reader Summary: A rugged raider takes you under his wing after hunters leave you for dead. The two of you form a team and you quickly grow attached to him–mumbling, grumbling, protective Joel Miller. When you divulge your wishes to experience life before the outbreak, Joel decides to make them come true. All of them. warnings: age gap (early 20s/mid 40s), praise kink, breeding kink, daddy kink, unplanned pregnancy, unprotected piv, canon-typical violence, light choking, dom!Joel, angst word count: 3.3k(ch5) rating: 18+ explicit MDNI masterlist | Ao3 | My Booktower @orcasoul @guiltyaschargedmf @idrkman (Thank you, guys. I'm going to assume you want to be tagged for the next few chapters too. Please let me know if not, no judgement <3 )

au: quick recap. You just told Joel you were pregnant and before he can respond, there's a group of raiders that threaten both of your safety.

~~~~

Joel’s jaw locks and his nostrils flare, the only telltale signs that he’s having any emotional response to your news and doing everything in his power to keep it bottled up inside. Whether it’s anger he feels or excitement, you don’t know. So he says nothing, tugs your arm with near-bruising force, and stuffs you into the nursery closet.

“J-Joel! Don’t leave me in here I can–” 

“Shut up!” He demands in a hushed whisper, the closet door clicking shut and obstructing the angry snarl of his lips from your view. “Do not move from this closet,” is his last command before stepping back out into the loft.

Whatever it is he’s feeling, he’s channeling it into something physical. Something violent. You see it through the crack of the bifold doors with the way he swaggers over to the stairwell, twirling his handgun around his pointer finger like he’s about to play a game of darts with his buddies–like death isn’t waiting around the corner to claim yet another soul from this wasteland. Joel’s broad shoulders are tense, brow furrowed, back pressed against the stairwell as the men enter the house. 

“We know you’re in here, and we know you’ve got a pretty little whore with ya. Come out now and we won’t hurtchya, how’s that sound?”

The man’s voice is raspy, like he’s smoked a pack of Marlboro Reds and sipped car oil for the last eighteen years, and that’d be a feat because both items are scarce. The unwelcoming sound of his voice cuts across the house in a thunderous bellow, like the terrorizing sound of infected thrashing against the metal walls of your old QZ.

When Joel doesn’t respond, the man’s temper ignites. “Look, there’s four of us and only two of you. Do the math, bitch!”  

Your heartbeat is a deafening, pounding drum in your ears. You still see Joel, a horizontal sliver in the crack of the door, illuminated with the humble rays of twilight that make his lumberjack green flannel look more like steel blue. He’s silent like a predator, unmoving but alert, his eyes trained on the men downstairs as he takes shelter in the shadows.

Before you can process what’s happening, Joel is out of your field of view and gunshots bang in a rapid succession. Three shots–four? It could have been ten, but you lost count after the first two when your ears started ringing. Your eyes are wide in shock, your body trembling in fear of what’s next to come. Then you hear the rumbling roars of angry men followed by a thundering crash downstairs. Two men are shouting profanities, fists punching against flesh, wood splintering, and the sound of bodies crashing to the floor. 

Suddenly your painful memories of your parents’ execution flash through your mind. The empty, lonely feeling in the pit of your stomach when they left this world. Left you. And then you were on your own again. Alone so long you forgot what it felt like to have someone hold you. Couldn’t remember the warmth of someone’s touch and if you even missed it.

The only contact you’d had was that of violence, of the men back in Austin that tried to have their way with you, of thieves that left you with a bullet in your thigh in the middle of a clicker-infested city. 

And then you met Joel. Sure he was grumpy, didn’t say much, and sometimes seemed almost annoyed with you, but you eventually learned that it’s just how he is. That underneath that thick layer of hurt he wears, there’s a soft teddy bear that’s ready to protect you at all costs. Yet, all you can do is hide. Guilt weighs on you like a thousand bricks. You’d hoped to be more useful than this, but without a weapon, you’re just chicken that’s too scared to get your ass out of this closet and go help.

The final gunshot goes off and there’s a loud thump on the wooden floorboards, the showdown between the last two men standing has come to an end. Now there’s only one man left in the house with you. He’s either a killer or a killer. You hope to God that it’s Joel because if it isn’t, there’s going to be a big gaping hole in your heart when you have to walk this earth without him–assuming you make it out of this house alive.

So you hope that it’ll be him who appears at the top of the stairs in victory. That he’ll open the closet doors and give you that grumpy look of his, mutter that he ‘took care of it’ like he always does and you’ll rush into his arms, thanking God that he made it. But when the house is eerily still and there’s no sign of Joel, the heartwrenching reality of losing him sinks into the pit of your stomach like an anvil.

It only took two months. Two months for you to fall in love with him. Two months for him to fuck you so good that he got you pregnant. You cover your mouth to muffle your sobs, sticky tears streaming down your face, letting a good minute pass before you summon the courage to move.

With a shaky, feathered touch you push open the creaky doors and will yourself out of your hole, knees chafing against the muck green carpet as you scuffle out of the nursery and peek through the stair rail. You see three figures splayed out on the kitchen floor, but in the dim light of the late afternoon, you can’t confirm if any of them are Joel.

The wooden railing presses into each side of your cheek as you careen forward a little further, nose peeking out from between the bars, eyes cast downward with apprehension to find the startling image of a thick pool of blood that’s painted the checkered tile a jarring shade of crimson.

Skin as rough as sandpaper clasps around the back of your neck, fingers snaking into your hair and yanking you up off the floor. “Well, well, well, whatta we have here?” A yellow grin shines at you, blood oozing from a mean cut chiseled across his cheek. “Found myself a little mouse,” he coos, and there’s a horrid stench of cigarettes that sucker punches your gag reflex. 

“What the fuck did you do to Joel?” You hiss as your face scrunches up with a mixture of anger and despair before you melt into a sob. That the last gunshot was for Joel. You were officially alone and would probably die soon too, if you were lucky. 

“Awww, don’t cry now. You don’t need that old fart, now do ya?” His voice is dripping with false sincerity, disgustingly saccharine that it only made you cry more.  “Woah, woah woah, did he fuck you that good? Don’t worry little bambi, I’ll show ya a good time and you won’t cry no more.”

The despair doesn’t last long. Joel’s voice calls your name from in the kitchen, and then his angry footsteps eat the stairs. 

The man whips you in front of him, a knife digging its nasty edge into your cheek. “Come any close and I’ll fucking cut her up!” He screams, chest heaving in a sporadic rhythm. “Don’t think I won’t, bitch!”

Joel stops in his tracks at the top of the stairs, gun aimed at the target, and from your perspective, dangerously close in aim to your body as well. 

“You best do as I say if you want her to live.”

“What d’ya want?” Joel’s voice is raspier, deeper than the gentler version that you’re used to.

His elbow hooks tighter around your neck as he belts out, “Gun on the ground–NOW!!” 

Joel doesn’t move, doesn’t obey. “Let’s just talk about this first–” 

“I said now!” Spit flies across the room as the man reaches the precipice of unhinged–if he wasn’t already there. 

“Easy, easy,” Joel coos as though he’s talking to a horse. He bends at the knees, slowly easing himself down to place his gun on the ground, but you know it’s all a facade. Joel can’t bend his knees all the way without suffering the consequences of his age. There’s no way he’s going to gently ease down.

Joel, half-crouched as he prepares to drop his gun, flicks his eyes at you. The two of you exchange a telepathic agreement on what would transpire next before he redirects his gaze to the enemy. Your brows crease desperately as your mouth puckers together to silently mouth the word no. Because what can you even do?

That’s when the enemy’s elbow constricts even tighter around your neck. You notice the gleam of blood oozing out of a wound in his forearm. A bullet wound. With a deep breath and a strong dose of courage, you dig your thumb into his wound with all your might, a guttural roar tearing from your lungs as you do. 

You duck. A gunshot erupts.

One shot to his chest, then two, and the man finds himself knocked back against the stair rail. He flips back from the sudden impact and then there’s a loud thud of his body meeting the first floor of the house. Unable to tear your eyes away from the horror, you curl into yourself as the prospect of death releases its chokehold on you once more.

And it’s all thanks to Joel, who rushes to your side and wraps his arms around you, your back is flush against his chest, and you feel a sudden rush of warmth and safety. “Thought I told ya to stay hidden? Shoulda known you wouldn’t listen.”

“I thought something happened to you, I didn’t know what to do!”

“I told ya I always win,” he breathes out, voice smokey and confident in the shell of your ear. He rests his chin on your shoulder and rocks your body side to side, his hands gently gripping your waist for support. His chest is still heaving from the earlier altercation as his calloused palm slides up from under your sweatshirt and you feel his rough hand flush against your belly. “Think the baby is happy I won?” He smirks into your neck and you feel butterflies flutter in your stomach.

You twist your neck around to meet his gaze, big brown eyes look at you lovingly. “Yeah, I think the baby is happy their daddy won.” Your breath ghosts his lips and then you smile, looking up at him through thick lashes.

He spins you around so his hips are pressed into yours, and then he pulls you into a sweet kiss, which quickly transitions to something more heated and steamy as he goes from tasting your lips to lapping at your tongue. A masculine groan rumbles from his throat all the way into yours. That’s when you realize he’s hard. Really hard. 

“Joel, right now? Really?” Your tone is playful as you stifle your giggles, pushing away his kisses to no avail. He demands more, kissing and licking your neck instead. 

“You put a spell on my or some’n ‘cuz baby, your pussy is all I can think about,” he’s sucking on your neck now, thrusting into you with his jeans on. “Now you go ‘n tell me you're pregnant with my kid, how else am I supposed to celebrate?”

“We shouldn't do it here, though. It's still not safe.”

“If anybody comes in here…” Joel begins, pausing as his heady kisses decorate your neck, “I'll just kill ‘em.” Your panties feel soaked at the sound of his protective threat. His forearms meet the backside of your thighs, cushioning your ass as he lifts you off of the ground and into his veiny arms. His strong lower back muscles feel firm against your calves as you cling to him, his hard cock throbbing through his jeans against where you need him most. 

In the master bedroom, the moonlight spills on the sheets like water, illuminating the faded silk fabric with a bluish glow. The dresser is decorated with relics from another time, a vase with withered flowers, porcelain knick knacks of a wedding couple, and dusty necklaces–all of which barely have enough luster left to light the room, like the dimming light of a candle as it swallows the last inch of its wick. 

Joel rests you on the edge of the oakwood dresser, releasing you from his embrace just long enough to remove your pants, and then he presses his torso into you once more. His tongue dances with yours, chest heaving as he pours every kiss he has into your soul. One thick palm is pressed to your cheek and then he curls it around your neck for support, reeling you in even closer.

His other hand finds yours, tangling your fingers together like a stitch that could never be unsewn. His touch and his kiss felt like real love, even if it wasn’t said in words, you could feel your love for him, and you hoped that he felt it too.

All your life, you’ve never felt more safe than you do by Joel’s side. You belong here. Belong with him. It’s in this moment that you realize you were meant to be with Joel from now until the rest of your life. It was no mistake that you were carrying his child, it was exactly as it should be. There was never going to be anyone else besides Joel. You were safe by him, safe in his arms, his kiss, and safe with his cock buried inside you every night.

He pulls your panties to the side, a string of your wet connecting you to the fabric. “Oh sweetie…” Joel coos, rubbing the thick pads of his fingertips against your slippery folds. “Did’ya miss me that much?”

You bite your lower lip and look up at him, wide-eyed and slutty as you moan mhmmmm. He hums in approval, peeling your shirt off to reveal your perky, bare breasts. In one long drag, he licks your chest from just above your breast up to your collarbone.

“Baby, ‘m not gonna be gentle with you. Need you bad.” His voice is hot in your ear, locks of your hair tickling your cheek from the soft wind of his breath. “You gonna be a good girl for me?” He asks, rubbing delicious circles into your clit that make it impossible to refuse him. 

“Y-Yes.”

“Yes what?” He says through gritted teeth, yanking your panties off.

“Yes, Daddy.” 

“That’s my girl. Now spread those legs f’me and show me that pretty little pussy.” Obediently, you do as he says, a desperate need to please him igniting your core. The last time he had you, you were both drunk. This time would be different and you could feel it. He was sober, more aware of your body, more in control. He sinks to his knees, relishing in the view of your glistening cunt. “Fuck… You’re gorgeous. Been dreamin’ about this since the last time I had you.” 

His bristly beard brushes against your naked thighs and his lips hover over your slit. You can feel his breath, a warm, welcoming breeze in the cool fall air. “No…” You plea, pushing him away, but you have no effect on him as he digs his nose into your folds and tastes your entrance. “Joel, I’m embarrassed.” 

“Don’t be. You’re beautiful,” he praises and proceeds to suck on your bud. Your back arches in ecstasy. Whatever part of you refused him before was long gone and replaced with a slutty girl that was begging for more.

“Ahhn, just like that–Don’t stop.”

“You were tellin’ me no just a second ago, now you’re beggin’ for more?” His laugh rumbles into you, vibrating your pussy and making you feel even more stimulated. You moan at the pressure of his tongue swirling on your clit, shamelessly rolling your hips onto his face as he pulls his name from your lips.

“Want you inside me–Please, please…” The words tumble out of your mouth.

He smirks at you, masculine pride reflecting on his face, “Needy girl. I like that.” He stands up, the sound of his zipper opening is followed by the pressure of his cock against your cunt. With both of his hands firmly on your waist, his hips snap to yours without any warning, all of his length splitting you open with a delicious sting that quickly becomes euphoric. Both of your jaws go slack at the feel of one another. 

This time around, you were carrying his baby, creating a bond between the two of you that could never be broken. You belonged to him and belonged to you. Joel’s eyes are dangerously dark as he leans over you, your ass in his hands, his cock in your cunt, and now his lips against yours. He kisses you roughly, tongue tasting yours as you gasp for air in between each kiss.

His hips slap against yours at a devastating pace, the trinkets on the dresser clinking together, drawers shaking violently, the entire frame of the dresser threatening to dent the walls.

His kisses are rough, his thrusting is brutal, and his grip on your waist was sure to leave bruises in the morning. Joel is far from gentle. He’s fucking you. Hard. And you love every minute of it. The way his skin sounds slapping against yours, the way he grunts in echo of your wanton moans, and the way your wet sounds squelching with his juice, dripping out of your slot and coating the salt and pepper bristles around his cock. It leaves your mouth watering, your cunt dripping, and your legs shaking.

It’s the best sex you ever had.

Joel’s groans deepen, his pace becoming more erratic as your walls clench around him tighter and tighter. You can feel him swelling with each moan. You wrap your legs around his back and reel him in even closer.

“‘m close, baby.”

“Fuck me,” you plea, just to reach your white hot climax too. “Make me yours, Joel.” Your words are enough to send him over the edge. 

“Come on my cock, baby,” the sensations send you over the edge, soaking his cock just like he asks. His head kisses your cervix again and again, and you feel the pressure of his balls on your slot with his final thrust as he pours his warmth into you with a masculine groan, biting into your shoulder and kneading his fingers into your breast. 

“We’re gonna have to stop doin’ this eventually,” he says after pulling out his half-hard cock and watching his sperm drool out of your slot. Then he scoops it up and with two fingers, shoves it back into your hole to hide the mess. 

“Why?” Your brows knit together, eyes wide with desperation as he pulls out again. Why would either of you ever this to end?

“Don’t matter now since you’re already pregnant, but if we keep this up, you’ll keep gettin’ pregnant again ‘n again,” he says taking a few steps back and zipping up his jeans. You almost feel sad that his cock is no longer on display for your pleasure. You decide to be bold with him–you’ve spread your legs twice for him and are the mother of his baby for God’s sake.

You hop off the dresser, sashay over to where he stands, and snake your palms up his chest before placing them on each of his cheeks. You pull him down to you and softly kiss his lips, the tang of your wet is still an aftertaste on his lips.

“I don’t want this to stop. Ever,” you say, voice a little raspy and worn from your lovemaking session.

Joel looks at you in thought, his beautiful brown eyes, once lustful, are now filled with the glistening shine of adoration. In this moment, you can see the outline of yourself reflected in the darkness of his eyes and a feeling of love floods through you once more.

He smiles, crows feet creasing at the side of his eyes as he says, “I’d like that.”

[mcrdvcks]

okay, here we go, part 2! (bear with me once again)

Something in his tone must have reached her, because she looked up, her eyes softening, almost as if she were seeing him clearly for the first time. “Logan…” she said her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t… I didn’t realize.”

how are you doing this?? 'cause this is something i would do. i've never had a guy interested in me, other than a casual friend, so i feel like if a guy was sending signals that he wanted more, i just wouldn't notice or believe it.

She bit her lip, looking down, her cheeks flushed. “I didn’t see it because… why would I?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, and he had to lean in to catch the words. “I mean, look at you. You’re… you’re handsome. You could have anyone. And I’m just… me.” She let out a shaky laugh, her gaze dropping to the ground. “I’m quiet. I’m… awkward. I was rude to you half the time, and the other half I was too shy to even look you in the eye.”

chat this is getting too real

“Not with you,” he replied softly, his voice like a promise. “Never with you.”

ughhh, i love soft logan

“Tell me what you’re thinking, darlin’,” he whispered, his voice a rough murmur. He kept his gaze steady, trying not to let his need show too much. He wanted her—God, he needed her—but he knew better than to rush this.

consent, consent, consent!! that just makes him that much more attractive

The worst of it was a half-written document, clearly meant to be an exposé. She’d been planning to write everything down—publish everything. The paper was titled in bold at the top: The Hidden Faces of War: Secrets Behind Team X. And beneath the title, a line that made his blood run cold: “An unauthorized look into the men behind the missions, and the things they were never meant to remember.”

i knew it! i mean... oh no...

Wade sighed, running a hand over his face. “Look, man. I’ll help you,” he said, his voice softer now, carrying a note of real sincerity. “I don’t want her getting hurt, either. I’m not a monster. I know what Stryker will do if he gets his hands on her.” He paused, his gaze steady. “She doesn’t deserve that. And neither do you.”

the fact wade knows how much she means to logan is true friendship

“In a heartbeat,” he replied, his gaze unwavering. “I’d leave it all if it meant keeping you safe. You think I care about Stryker? About Team X? That life’s got nothing for me. Not anymore.”

so cute 😭😭

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, her words full of quiet sincerity as she tugged his jeans down his hips. Her eyes roamed over him, taking him in as if he were something precious. Logan huffed out a quiet laugh, the sound rough and unpracticed. “Beautiful?” he echoed, a faint, self-deprecating grin tugging at his lips. It was strange hearing that word directed at him—foreign in a way that made him feel both exposed and disarmed. “I’m looking at beautiful, and it sure as hell isn’t me.”

ahhhhh

“Gotta say, little brother,” came the low, mocking drawl, “didn’t think you’d make it this easy for me.”

no, not victor 😭

After a long moment, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze, a slow smile breaking across his face. “All right, then,” he said, voice low and steady. “Guess I’d better get used to it.” She grinned, leaning over the table to press a quick kiss to his lips, her laughter filling the room like sunlight. “Guess you’d better,” she teased, brushing a hand through his hair as she settled back in her chair.

the ending was so cute, and wade coming in at the end?? the three of them are adorable <3

okay but seriously, this was great, i enjoyed reading this so much. it's different from other things i read but still felt like it belonged in the x-men/wolverine universe. thank you for writing this! :)

Sanctuary - Part Two

Logan and Wade are sent by Stryker to find a journalist who has been digging around trying to expose Team X. Logan isn't prepared when he meets an intriguing neighbor causing him to question himself and the mission.

origins logan howlett x fem!reader - team x mission, shy reader, no y/n, she/her pronouns used instead of you, logan's pov, origins wade, awkwardness, guarded feelings, angst, AU, crushes, logan kinda being a stalker, stryker and victor cameos, fighting, cussing, wade being a good friend, reserved logan

apparently this is too long to post in one go so here's part one and here's part two

word count: 40k

divider credit: @enchanthings

Logan knew he shouldn’t be jealous, but he couldn’t help it. Jared had started working his way into her life, filling the spaces Logan had been dancing around for weeks. Jared was walking her home after her shifts, casually showing up at the bar to chat with her, and Logan was pretty sure he’d seen him drop flowers off once. Every time he looked, Jared seemed to be there—closing in, leaving little room for Logan.

Wade, of course, was delighted by this turn of events and took every opportunity to dig the knife a little deeper.

"Guess the infamous Jared is busy tonight,” Wade quipped, glancing over to where she was wiping down glasses behind the bar, focused and oblivious to their presence. “Better get your ass over there, lover boy, before he shows up and sweeps her off her feet again.”

Logan shot him a glare, his jaw clenched tight. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, but his eyes drifted back to her. She looked calm, and relaxed, humming to herself as she went about her work. The sight only made his chest ache more.

“Oh, come on,” Wade snickered, taking a sip of his beer. “Just admit it—you’re jealous.”

Logan didn’t respond, but his fists tightened on the table. He hated that Wade was right. The jealousy gnawed at him, a constant, dull ache that made him restless and irritable. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was losing her, and he hated that he wasn’t even sure he’d ever had her to begin with.

Before he could second-guess himself, Logan stood up, ignoring Wade’s raised eyebrow as he crossed the bar. She looked up as he approached, a small smile flickering across her lips.

“Hey, Logan,” she greeted him, her tone warm but casual like they were old friends—just friends.

Logan nodded, trying to keep his tone light. “Hey. Just… wanted to check in on you.” He hesitated, then added, “I saw Jared hasn’t been around tonight.”

She shrugged her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “Guess he’s busy,” she said lightly, going back to drying the glass in her hands. She didn’t offer anymore, clearly brushing it off, but Logan couldn’t let it go.

“Do you… do you actually like the guy?” he asked, the words tumbling out before he could stop himself.

She paused, glancing up at him with a mixture of surprise and annoyance. “Why do you ask?”

Logan shifted, feeling foolish but unable to drop it. “Just… curious. Seems like he’s been around a lot lately. Walking you home, stopping by during your shifts…”

She let out a sigh, setting the glass down with a bit more force than necessary. “Logan, what’s it to you?” she asked, a touch of frustration slipping into her voice. “I mean, I don’t ask about the women in your life.”

The remark stung, and Logan took a breath, struggling to keep his frustration in check. “I just don’t think he’s good enough for you,” he said, his voice coming out rougher than he’d intended.

She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. “Not good enough? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Logan opened his mouth, then closed it, unsure how to explain the knot of jealousy and protectiveness he felt without sounding… ridiculous. “I just don’t like the way he acts around you. Like he’s… entitled to your time.”

Her eyes narrowed, a flicker of irritation in her gaze. “Logan, he’s just a friend. If he wants to walk me home or drop by the bar, that’s his choice. It’s not… some grand conspiracy.”

Logan ran a hand through his hair, growing increasingly frustrated. “Yeah, well, he’s not doing it just to be nice.”

She looked at him, her expression unreadable, then let out a soft, exasperated sigh. “Why do you even care so much? I don’t get it.” She paused, searching his face with a look of confusion. “Why are you acting like this? You’ve always been… protective, but this is different. I don’t understand.”

Logan felt his heart sink, a cold realization settling over him. She didn’t see it. She didn’t see him the way he saw her—didn’t even consider the possibility that he might want to be more than just a friend. Or maybe she just… couldn’t imagine it. Couldn’t imagine him as someone she could be with.

“Why am I acting like this?” he echoed, his voice low, bitter. He forced himself to meet her gaze, searching her eyes for any glimmer of understanding, but her expression was still clouded with confusion. “You really don’t know?”

She blinked, her brow furrowing, then let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. “Logan, I…thought you were…you’re my friend. I mean, that’s what you’ve been, right? I don’t—” She broke off, biting her lip as if she didn’t know how to finish the thought.

Logan felt his chest tighten. There it was, plain as day. He’d been standing here, trying to protect her, trying to be someone she could rely on, someone she’d choose. But she couldn’t even see him like that. He was just Logan—the guy who watched out for her, the guy she talked to when she needed someone to listen. Nothing more.

“Right,” he said, his voice rough, barely masking the bitterness that threatened to spill over. “Just your friend.”

Something in his tone must have reached her, because she looked up, her eyes softening, almost as if she were seeing him clearly for the first time. “Logan…” she said her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t… I didn’t realize.”

He shook his head, letting out a hollow laugh. “Yeah, well, that’s kind of the problem, isn’t it?”

Her eyes searched his face, a flicker of something close to regret passing over her expression. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but closed it again, her shoulders slumping. “I didn’t mean to… hurt your feelings,” she murmured. “I just didn’t know. I thought—”

Logan took a step back, feeling the weight of her words settle over him like a stone. “It’s fine,” he said, forcing himself to keep his voice steady. “Forget I said anything.”

He turned, feeling her eyes on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look back. He didn’t want to see the pity in her gaze, the confusion, or worse—the faint flicker of understanding that came too late. He walked away, his chest tight. It was too late for that now. She’d seen him as a friend from the start, and no amount of jealous glances or awkward conversations was going to change that.

Logan pushed through the bar doors, letting the cool night air hit him like a slap. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm raging inside him, the mix of frustration and hurt that he couldn’t quite shake. He’d thought he could handle her not seeing him that way, but hearing her say it out loud—just my friend—had cut deeper than he’d expected.

He barely made it a few steps when he heard her voice behind him.

“Logan, wait.”

He stopped, surprised, turning slowly. He hadn’t expected her to follow. She stood there in the doorway, her face lit by the neon bar sign, eyes wide and uncertain like she was still trying to make sense of what had just happened. She took a tentative step forward, wrapping her arms around herself, the vulnerability in her posture catching him off guard.

“Why did you…?” she began, then hesitated, struggling to find the right words. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Logan let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Say what? That I see you as more than just a friend? That every time I saw you with that guy, it felt like I was watching you slip away?” He shook his head, his voice rough. “I tried, but… you just didn’t see it.”

She bit her lip, looking down, her cheeks flushed. “I didn’t see it because… why would I?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, and he had to lean in to catch the words. “I mean, look at you. You’re… you’re handsome. You could have anyone. And I’m just… me.” She let out a shaky laugh, her gaze dropping to the ground. “I’m quiet. I’m… awkward. I was rude to you half the time, and the other half I was too shy to even look you in the eye.”

Logan felt his chest tighten as he took in her words. He stepped closer, his voice gentle, almost pleading. “Don’t you see? That’s exactly why.”

She looked up, her eyes meeting his, confusion etched in her face.

“Look,” he continued, struggling to put into words everything he’d been feeling. “You’re real. You’re not trying to be anyone else, not putting on a show. You’re just… you. And yeah, you’re quiet, and maybe a little guarded, but that’s not a bad thing. It’s honest. You don’t let people in easily, and for some reason, that made me want to break through even more.”

She stared at him, her eyes beginning to shimmer with unshed tears. He could see her struggling to hold them back, her fingers twisting anxiously at her sides.

“And when you let your guard down,” Logan continued, his voice softer now, “even for just a second… I see this side of you that’s so… warm. You’re thoughtful. Kind. Stronger than you give yourself credit for.” He took a breath, gathering the courage to say the rest. “You make me want to be better, just by being yourself.”

She blinked, her face crumpling slightly as a tear slipped down her cheek. She brushed it away quickly, as if embarrassed, but more tears followed, spilling over in silent streams.

“I… I didn’t know,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I didn’t think anyone… saw me like that.”

He took another step forward, closing the last bit of distance between them, his gaze fixed on her face. “I see you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “And not just the version of you from tonight, or the one from work. All of you.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment she looked away as if trying to collect herself. Then, with a shaky exhale, she looked back at him, her gaze softer, more open than he’d ever seen it.

“Logan…” Her voice broke, and she let out a short, almost disbelieving laugh, a mix of relief and release. She shook her head, wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand, but the tears kept coming. “I didn’t… I never thought…”

Before she could finish, Logan reached out, pulling her into his arms. She didn’t resist, her body melting into his as she let herself be held, her arms slipping around his waist. He felt her relax against him, her head resting against his chest, her shoulders shaking as she allowed herself to cry freely.

Logan tightened his hold, one hand gently cradling the back of her head, the other wrapped securely around her back. He felt her tears soak into his shirt, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was the warmth of her in his arms, the way she fit against him, like she’d belonged there all along.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against her ear. “You don’t have to say anything. Just… let it out.”

She nodded against his chest, her fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt as she cried. It wasn’t a sad cry—it was something deeper like she was finally letting go of something she’d held inside for too long. Logan stood there, holding her, letting her know with his presence that she didn’t have to be alone in it anymore.

After a while, her tears slowed, her breathing evening out as she relaxed in his arms. She pulled back slightly, looking up at him, her eyes still wet but filled with quiet gratitude, a kind of wonder that took his breath away.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice raw but steady. “For… seeing me. I don’t know how to explain it, but… no one’s ever really done that before.”

Logan’s gaze softened, and he brushed a stray tear from her cheek with his thumb. “You don’t have to explain it,” he said gently. 

They stood there, close enough to feel each other’s breath, a fragile understanding settling between them. She didn’t look away, her gaze steady and unguarded, and for the first time, he felt like he was truly seeing her—no walls, no defenses, just her.

“Logan…” she murmured, her voice trailing off as if the weight of the moment had stolen her words. Her eyes searched his face, hesitant yet drawn in, and after a heartbeat, she lifted her hand, her fingers brushing softly against his cheek. The touch was tentative but unshakably real, grounding him, rooting him in the quiet intimacy between them.

Logan’s breath caught, and he leaned into her touch, his eyes never leaving hers. Her fingertips were warm against his skin, tracing over the rough edges of his jaw, gentle but sure, like she was memorizing him. His heart hammered in his chest, each beat loud and insistent as if to remind him that this—she—was real.

“I see you too,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, but he felt the words settle over him, softening something in him he hadn’t realized was so tightly wound. “I see all of you.”

Logan nodded, his voice thick. “I know, sweetheart.”

Her lips parted slightly, her gaze flicking down as her hand trailed lower, her fingers grazing his cheekbone, then drifting to trace the outline of his bottom lip. His breath hitched, his skin electrified under her touch, and he found himself leaning closer, drawn in like a magnet. Her fingers lingered at the edge of his mouth, her touch featherlight, and for a moment he was utterly still, letting her explore this unguarded part of him.

A soft laugh escaped her, a quiet, wondrous sound as if seeing him this vulnerable under her touch was something she hadn’t quite expected. Her thumb brushed over his lip, and he felt the faintest tremble in her hand like she was as caught up in this as he was.

“Logan… I didn’t know…” she murmured, her voice trailing off, her eyes full of something like wonder. “I didn’t know you could be… like this.”

“Like what?” he asked, his voice a low rasp, barely able to keep his focus as her fingers traced along his jaw.

“Soft,” she whispered, her eyes meeting his with a quiet, almost fragile honesty. “You’re always so… strong. Untouchable. But right now…” She trailed off, her cheeks flushing, and he could see the vulnerability in her expression, the way she was opening up to him, bit by bit.

“Not with you,” he replied softly, his voice like a promise. “Never with you.”

He lifted his hand, covering hers against his cheek, pressing it gently, letting her know without words that he wanted her there—that he was letting her see this part of him because it was her. She wasn’t just any woman to him; she was the woman, the one who had slipped under his skin in ways he couldn’t explain.

Slowly, she moved closer, her breath mingling with his, her gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips like she was still wrapping her head around the idea that he could be hers, that he was this vulnerable for her alone.

“I…” she murmured, her voice barely more than a breath as she leaned in, her lips brushing softly against his jaw. Her fingers still rested against his cheek, her touch featherlight, hesitant.

Logan’s heart pounded, every instinct urging him to close the distance, to kiss her and pull her into his arms. But he held back, waiting, sensing there was something she needed to say.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, darlin’,” he whispered, his voice a rough murmur. He kept his gaze steady, trying not to let his need show too much. He wanted her—God, he needed her—but he knew better than to rush this.

She closed her eyes, a soft sigh escaping her as she leaned her forehead against his, her breath warm against his skin. “I want…” she started, her voice catching. She let out a shaky breath, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, her eyes searching his. “I want you to hold me.”

Her words were quiet, almost shy, and he felt something shift in his chest, a tenderness he hadn’t known he could feel. She looked down, almost apologetic, her cheeks flushed as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m… sorry if that’s not what you wanted,” she whispered, her voice barely holding steady. “I just… I’m not ready for more.”

Logan’s expression softened, and he gently lifted her chin, meeting her eyes with a look of understanding. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice steady and warm. “You don’t have to apologize. I can wait.”

She blinked, her eyes filling with gratitude, a quiet vulnerability that made his heartache. “Really?” she asked, her voice a fragile whisper.

He smiled softly, brushing his thumb along her cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin under his touch. “Really,” he replied, his tone gentle but sure. “As long as it takes. Just… let me be here with you.”

She let out a shaky breath, and he could feel the tension ease from her shoulders as she leaned into him, resting her head against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, feeling the steady rhythm of her breathing, the warmth of her body pressed against his.

They stood like that in the quiet, her cheek pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped securely around her. He could feel her relax in his embrace, letting go of the hesitation, the fear as if she’d finally found a place she could just… be.

“Thank you, Logan,” she whispered against his shirt, her voice muffled but filled with emotion. “For… for understanding.”

He held her a little tighter, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head, a promise in the gentle touch. “Always,” he murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

It was late, and the apartment was quiet, save for the faint hum of the fridge and the occasional creak of floorboards settling. Logan had just settled on the couch, nursing a beer and trying to ignore Wade’s relentless teasing, when there was a soft knock at the door.

Logan’s brow furrowed. It was nearly midnight, and he wasn’t expecting anyone. He stood up, crossing the small space and opening the door—only to find her standing there, arms wrapped around herself, eyes wide and uncertain.

For a second, they just stared at each other, and he could see the faint blush rising to her cheeks, the way she looked away, biting her lip as if second-guessing why she’d even come.

“Hey,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “Sorry, it’s… so late.”

Logan’s expression softened, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “No problem,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. “Everything okay?”

She nodded, but he could tell she was nervous—more nervous than usual, even. Her gaze darted from his face to the floor, her fingers twisting in the hem of her sweater as she shifted from one foot to the other. “I, um… I just…” She took a breath, her eyes flicking up to meet his. “I was wondering if… maybe you could come over? Just for a bit?”

Logan’s smile grew, and he nodded, his voice gentle. “Of course. Let me grab my jacket.”

He glanced over his shoulder at Wade, who was watching the scene unfold with a smirk, one eyebrow raised in amusement. “Finally got the girl to come to you, huh?” Wade drawled, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “About damn time.”

Logan rolled his eyes, grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair. “Yeah, well, took me long enough,” he muttered.

Wade gasped, pressing a hand to his chest in mock shock. “Is the big tough guy over here admitting I was right?”

“Don’t get used to it,” Logan grumbled, but there was a flicker of humor in his eyes as he closed the door behind him, leaving Wade’s laughter echoing down the hall.

When they reached her apartment, she opened the door and led him inside, glancing back at him nervously as if checking to make sure he hadn’t changed his mind. Her place was warm and inviting, the faint scent of vanilla in the air, and he could see a blanket draped over the back of her couch, and a book lying open on the coffee table. It felt like stepping into another world—a quiet sanctuary that was all hers.

She hesitated, looking back at him with a shy smile. “Sorry if this is… weird. I just… I didn’t feel like being alone tonight.”

Logan shook his head, his expression gentle. “Not weird at all,” he assured her. “I’m glad you asked.”

They settled onto the couch, her curled up at one end with a blanket wrapped around her, and Logan at the other, trying to ignore the subtle ache in his chest that urged him to reach out, to pull her close. Instead, he let her take the lead, watching as she relaxed, her guard slowly lowering in the quiet warmth of her apartment.

After a few minutes, she glanced over at him, her face softening. “You know, I don’t let a lot of people in here. It’s kind of… my space. Where I go when I need to recharge.”

Logan nodded, understanding more than she probably realized. “I figured,” he murmured. “Need a little peace and quiet to get your energy back.”

She laughed softly, tucking her legs up under herself. “Exactly. Sometimes I think people don’t get that. They think I’m being rude or closed off, but it’s not… It’s just how I am.”

Logan smiled, leaning back against the couch, feeling more comfortable here than he had in a long time. “Trust me, I know the feeling. People have been making assumptions about me my whole life.” He looked down, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

She seemed to absorb his words, her expression softening, and for a moment, they just looked at each other, the quiet of the room settling over them like a warm blanket. Finally, she shifted a little closer, her fingers playing with the edge of the blanket as if gathering the courage to say something.

“Could you… would you mind just holding me?” she asked softly, almost shyly. “I know it’s silly, but…”

“It’s not silly,” he interrupted gently, already reaching out to pull her closer. She settled against him, her head resting on his shoulder, her body fitting perfectly against his side. He wrapped his arm around her, holding her securely, feeling the soft warmth of her breath against his neck.

They sat like that in comfortable silence, her fingers tracing small, absent patterns on his arm, and he felt a sense of peace he hadn’t known he was missing. After a while, he noticed her glancing at the book on the coffee table, the corners of her mouth lifting in a small, embarrassed smile.

“What’s that?” he asked, nodding toward the book.

She chuckled, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “It’s… just an old favorite,” she said, her fingers brushing over the cover as if the book itself were a comfort. “I’ve read it a hundred times, but I keep coming back to it. I guess it’s like… a safe place, you know?”

Logan reached over, picking up the book, letting the pages fall open naturally to a passage she’d read often. His eyes skimmed the words, noticing they were carefully underlined in places, with faint notes scrawled in the margins. Some of the words jumped out at him—truth, deception, uncover. The kind of words that carried a weight he couldn’t quite place.

“You make notes in it?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, his thumb tracing over one of the handwritten lines in the margin.

She hesitated, her fingers nervously twisting on the edge of the blanket. “Yeah,” she admitted, her voice soft. “I… I tend to analyze things. Sometimes I think too much, but…” She shrugged, glancing up at him with a shy smile. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed slightly as he flipped through a few more pages, noticing more annotations, small questions scribbled in her neat handwriting: What’s being hidden here? What’s the real story? It wasn’t the kind of casual note-taking he’d expect from someone reading for comfort. It felt… meticulous. Intentional.

“You really dig into things, huh?” he asked his tone light but laced with curiosity.

She let out a small, nervous laugh, looking down as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I guess so. I like… knowing things. Figuring out what’s beneath the surface. Sometimes I think it’s the only way I can make sense of the world.”

Logan’s smile faded slightly, an odd sense of familiarity tugging at him. Her words echoed something he’d heard Stryker say about the journalist they were after—a person who couldn’t leave things alone, who kept digging and prodding, pulling threads no one else had noticed until the whole web of secrets started to unravel. He dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. No, he thought. That’s ridiculous.

Still, he couldn’t shake a strange feeling, a quiet tension building in the back of his mind. He watched her as she curled up against him, her face soft and relaxed, so different from the hardened profile of a tenacious journalist. And yet…

“So,” he said slowly, turning the conversation a bit, “you said you’ve been working at the bar for… how long now?”

She looked up, blinking as if she hadn’t expected the question. “A few months,” she replied, her voice casual. “Needed a change of pace. City life, you know?”

He nodded, but something about her answer felt practiced. “What did you do before that?”

Her smile wavered, and she glanced away, tugging the blanket a little tighter around herself. “I, um… I did some freelance work. Writing, mostly. Articles, essays, that sort of thing.”

Logan felt his chest tighten, the pieces shifting uncomfortably into place. Freelance writing. It could mean anything… or it could mean everything. He forced himself to keep his expression neutral, unwilling to let his suspicions show.

“Writing, huh?” he said, his voice carefully steady. “You must have a knack for it if you’re making a living off it.”

She shrugged, looking down at her hands, her voice softening. “I like to dig into things. Tell stories that don’t get told. Sometimes people don’t appreciate that.” She glanced up at him, a small, frown tugging at her lips. “Guess I’ve made a few enemies along the way.”

Logan’s stomach twisted, his mind racing. He’d been chasing this journalist for weeks, tracking down scraps of information, hearing bits and pieces about someone who wouldn’t quit, who kept pushing no matter the consequences. And here she was, right in front of him, leaning against him with that soft, trusting smile. He felt a pang of guilt mixed with something he couldn’t quite name—something like dread, or realization.

“Guess you don’t mind getting into trouble, huh?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light, almost teasing.

She laughed, a soft, self-deprecating sound. “I try not to, but… I don’t know. I just can’t let things go when I feel like there’s more to the story.” She looked up at him, her gaze holding his with a quiet intensity. “You get that, don’t you?”

He nodded, throat suddenly tight. “Yeah,” he murmured, his voice low. “I get that.”

They fell into silence, and she nestled against him, resting her head on his shoulder, unaware of the storm swirling in his mind. Logan tightened his arm around her, holding her close, feeling the weight of her trust in the way she settled against him. He wanted to shake off his suspicions, to tell himself he was reading too much into things. But the more he thought about it, the more the pieces clicked into place.

He looked down at her, his gaze softening despite his racing thoughts. He could feel the warmth of her, her breath steady against his chest, her body relaxed and trusting in his arms. She was right here, with him, no walls, no defenses.

Maybe she was the person he’d been looking for all along. 

She had fallen asleep against him, her head nestled on his shoulder, her breathing soft and steady. Logan’s arm was still wrapped around her, but his mind was far from the peaceful quiet of the moment. His thoughts churned, circling back to everything Stryker had told him—and more importantly, everything Stryker hadn’t told him.

For weeks, they’d been tracking down whispers about a journalist who was digging too deep, getting too close to things they had no business knowing. Stryker had been vague about the details, only dropping hints about classified information being exposed, and names being uncovered. Hell, now that Logan thought about it, he realized Stryker hadn’t even specified if their target was a man or a woman. They’d just assumed.

A cold knot of dread formed in his stomach. Could it be her? he wondered, glancing down at her peaceful face, so trusting, so vulnerable in sleep. She’d let him into her world tonight, let him see the quiet, guarded person behind her walls. He’d felt closer to her than he had to anyone in years. But now… now he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been blind, missing clues that were right in front of him.

Silently, he cursed, gently easing her off him and onto the couch. She murmured something in her sleep, shifting slightly, but didn’t wake, sinking deeper into the cushions. Logan took a steadying breath, watching her for a moment, his heart aching with the conflict tearing him apart. What am I doing? he asked himself. But he knew he had to see this through.

His eyes scanned the room, his gaze landing on a small desk tucked in the corner by the window. He moved quietly, the only sound in the room the soft hum of the heater as he made his way over. The desk was neat, but he noticed a few loose papers sticking out of one of the drawers as if she’d shoved them in hurriedly, almost like she’d meant to hide them.

He hesitated, glancing back at her sleeping form, guilt gnawing at him. Just leave it alone, a part of him whispered. You know she’d never forgive you. But the doubt was too strong, the questions too sharp, cutting through his resolve. Slowly, he pulled open the drawer, his fingers trembling slightly as he reached inside.

What he found stopped him cold.

Stacks of papers, notes scribbled in her handwriting, clippings from newspapers, and—his heart dropped—classified documents. Some were marked with the distinct insignia of military intelligence, others with the unmistakable logo of Team X. He sifted through them, his pulse racing as he took in the details. There were notes on most of the members of the team, pieces of their pasts pieced together like puzzle fragments. He found Stryker’s name circled in red ink, question marks, and hastily written notes scrawled next to it: Experimentation? Corruption? The truth?

The worst of it was a half-written document, clearly meant to be an exposé. She’d been planning to write everything down—publish everything. The paper was titled in bold at the top: The Hidden Faces of War: Secrets Behind Team X. And beneath the title, a line that made his blood run cold: “An unauthorized look into the men behind the missions, and the things they were never meant to remember.”

Logan’s stomach twisted, the betrayal sinking deep as he pieced it together. She knew about Team X. She’d known this entire time. All the while, she’d kept him close, drawn him in, let him think he was getting to know her, that he was helping her let her guard down. But maybe it had been the other way around. Maybe she’d been watching him, studying him.

No, he told himself, gripping the edge of the desk to steady himself. That’s not her. It can’t be. He thought of the way she’d looked at him tonight, the way she’d opened up, let him see her vulnerability. She wasn’t faking that… was she?

He closed his eyes, a wave of regret and anger washing over him. He wanted to believe her, to believe that she hadn’t known who he was, that she hadn’t been playing him. But the evidence was here, right in front of him. She’d been planning to expose them—him—for God knows how long.

A soft sound made him look up. She was stirring on the couch, shifting under the blanket, her brow furrowing as if she could feel the tension radiating off him even in sleep. He shut the drawer quietly, his hands still shaking, and turned away, trying to pull himself together before she woke.

It was too late. Her eyes fluttered open, a soft, sleepy smile on her face as she blinked at him in the dim light. “Logan?” she murmured, her voice thick with drowsiness. “What… what’re you doing over there?”

He forced a smile, his heart a mess of anger and sorrow as he looked at her, standing in her cozy apartment that had, just minutes ago, felt like home. Now it felt like a stranger’s room, filled with shadows and secrets. “Just… looking around,” he said, his voice coming out rougher than he’d intended.

She sat up, running a hand through her hair, the gentle smile fading as she noticed the tension in his expression. “Is everything okay?”

He stared at her, searching her face for any hint of deception, any sign that she was lying to him. But all he saw was concern, confusion, and that same vulnerability that had drawn him to her in the first place. And suddenly, he felt like he was the one who was breaking.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice a low whisper, barely containing the hurt beneath it.

Her face went pale, her eyes widening. “What… what are you talking about?”

“Team X,” he said, the words heavy, almost accusing. “The documents. The notes. I saw them.” He gestured vaguely toward the desk, unable to stop the edge in his tone. “You’ve known about us this whole time, haven’t you?”

She opened her mouth to respond, then closed it, her eyes dropping to the floor. “Logan, I…” She took a shaky breath, her hands twisting together. “I didn’t mean for you to find out like this. I was… I was going to tell you. Eventually.”

“Tell me?” he repeated, his voice a harsh whisper. “Tell me that you’re planning to expose everything? Stryker, Team X… me?”

She looked up, her eyes bright with unshed tears, her voice trembling. “It’s not like that,” she whispered. “I didn’t…wasn’t doing it to hurt you. I wanted… I wanted people to know the truth. About what Stryker was making you do, making all of you do.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, the betrayal sinking in, heavy and painful. “So that’s it? You’ve just been studying me this whole time? Waiting to get enough dirt to make a story out of it?”

“No!” She shook her head, her voice breaking. “Logan, I… I didn’t plan any of this. Meeting you, being with you… it wasn’t part of the story. That’s real. You have to believe me.”

Logan felt himself falter, his anger wavering as he looked into her eyes. They were wide and glassy, filled with a desperate sincerity that made his chest ache. “How am I supposed to believe you?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper. “You’ve been lying to me this whole time.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she wiped it away quickly, her voice raw, trembling. “I know… I know how it looks. But please, Logan, you have to understand—I never wanted to hurt you. Or anyone else.” Her voice cracked, and she looked down, clutching her hands together. “I gave up the story before you even came here. Some guy threatened me at work—when I was still working at the newspaper. Said I was poking around in places I didn’t belong.” She let out a shaky breath. “I got scared. Decided to quit and… and disappear.”

Logan closed his eyes, the ache in his chest tightening, almost unbearable. Part of him wanted to turn around, to walk away and never look back, to spare himself the mess of feelings clawing their way through him. But another part—the part that had been drawn to her since the beginning, the part that had found something like peace in her arms—couldn’t let go. Not yet.

He opened his eyes, studying her, searching for any hint of deception. “So you ran,” he said quietly, his voice edged with disbelief. “You just… left it all behind?”

She nodded, her gaze distant, as if caught in the memory. “I thought if I hid, maybe they’d forget about me. But I knew…” She took a deep breath, her shoulders slumping. “I knew someone would come eventually. I couldn’t outrun it forever. I knew that… that I knew too much, even if I never published the story.”

She paused, then slowly rose to her feet, taking a step closer to him, her eyes never leaving his. “So when you and Wade showed up… I thought maybe that was it. That you were here to… finish the job.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper, and Logan saw the flash of fear in her eyes, the quiet acceptance beneath it that shook him to his core. “I accepted that.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, a fresh wave of anger and confusion washing over him. “You thought we were here to kill you?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “And you… you just accepted it?”

She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself as if trying to hold herself together. “I didn’t have a choice,” she said, her voice trembling. “I couldn’t go to anyone. I couldn’t trust anyone. Not after the threats… after the people who went quiet when I tried to ask questions.” Her gaze dropped, and he could see her fighting to keep her composure. “But then you started hovering around me. I thought you knew right from the start and was just toying with me but then I got to know you. And I started hoping that maybe… maybe it didn’t have to end that way.”

Logan felt his anger dissolve, replaced by a deep, painful empathy he hadn’t expected. He could see it now, all of it—the fear she must have lived with, the constant worry that she’d made a mistake she couldn’t take back. She’d been alone, hiding, looking over her shoulder… and yet she’d let him in, despite all of it.

“But you still didn’t tell me,” he said, his voice quieter now, laced with hurt. “You let me get close to you, you let me… fall for you, and you didn’t think I deserved to know the truth?”

Her face crumpled, another tear slipping down her cheek. “I didn’t want you to hate me,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I thought… I thought if I told you, you’d leave. Or worse—that you’d confirm what I’d been afraid of. That you were here to… end things.”

He swallowed, struggling to keep his own emotions in check. “So you kept it hidden. Just like you’ve kept everything else.”

She took a step closer, reaching out tentatively, her hand hovering between them. “Logan, please,” she murmured, her eyes searching his, filled with raw, unguarded vulnerability. “I was scared. I’ve been scared this whole time. And then you came into my life, and for the first time… I didn’t feel alone.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I thought maybe I’d finally found someone I could trust.”

He looked down at her hand, so close yet hesitant, and he felt the weight of her words settle over him, tugging at something deep inside. She hadn’t just been hiding; she’d been surviving, barely holding on, and he could see the toll it had taken on her—the guardedness, the fear, the way she’d kept everyone at arm’s length.

Slowly, he reached out, closing the distance between them, his fingers brushing hers. Her hand was cold, trembling slightly, and he felt a surge of protectiveness rise in him, stronger than the hurt, stronger than the anger. He looked into her eyes, searching for any trace of deception, but all he saw was a woman standing on the edge, hoping someone would finally reach out and pull her back.

“You don’t have to be afraid anymore,” he said softly, his voice a quiet promise. “Not of me.”

Her breath hitched, and she let out a shaky laugh, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. “You don’t know how badly I wanted to hear that,” she whispered. She took another step closer, her hand slipping into his, her grip tentative but real. “I’m so sorry, Logan… for everything. I didn’t mean for it to happen this way. I just… I didn’t know how to stop being afraid.”

He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly, feeling the way she melted against him, finally letting herself be vulnerable, finally allowing herself to trust. “It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice a soft rumble against her hair. “You don’t have to explain.”

She clung to him, her arms wrapped around his waist, her face pressed against his chest as if she were afraid to let go. He could feel her shaking, the quiet release of all the fear and tension she’d been holding for so long.

After a moment, she pulled back just enough to look up at him, her gaze filled with a fragile kind of hope. “Do you… do you think you could ever forgive me?”

Logan looked down at her, his thumb brushing away the last of her tears. “I already have,” he said quietly. “But I need you to be honest with me. No more secrets. No more hiding.”

She nodded a new determination settling in her eyes. “No more secrets,” she promised. “I’ll tell you everything. Whatever you want to know.”

He felt the weight of her words, the sincerity woven through every syllable. She was laying it all bare, trusting him with the truth she’d kept hidden for so long. But he knew this wouldn’t be easy—that there was still so much they’d have to face. Stryker wouldn’t let something like this go. Logan knew him too well; once Stryker had a target, he didn’t back off. And as much as he trusted Wade on a good day, there was a flicker of doubt nagging at him. Wade might be unpredictable, even reckless, but loyalty to Stryker ran deep. Logan wasn’t sure he’d want to risk involving him in this… not yet.

He looked down at her, taking in the way she leaned into him, her fingers trembling slightly as they entwined with his. She was strong, maybe stronger than he’d given her credit for, but there was a fragility to her now, a vulnerability she couldn’t quite hide. He wanted to protect her, to keep her safe from the mess he knew was waiting for them on the other side of this door.

“We’ll figure it out,” he murmured, his voice a low promise, rough but steady. “I’m not letting anything happen to you. I swear it.”

She nodded, her gaze steady on his, a glimmer of trust in her eyes mixed with the fear she couldn’t quite shake. Slowly, she leaned into him, pressing her forehead against his chest as if anchoring herself to him. Her fingers tightened around his, and he felt her take a shaky breath, steadying herself.

In the back of his mind, he knew the reality they’d soon have to face. Stryker wouldn’t back down, and the second he realized Logan was no longer his loyal soldier, he’d come after both of them with everything he had. Logan would have to be smart, and careful—because this wasn’t just his fight anymore. He was protecting her, and he’d go through hell before he let Stryker get his hands on her.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

Logan reluctantly left her apartment in the early morning light, the weight of everything pressing down on him. He hadn’t slept, his mind racing with thoughts of how to protect her, how to find a way out of this mess. It had been two months since he and Wade had first arrived in this city, sent by Stryker on what had felt like a routine assignment. But now, everything was different. He wasn’t just hunting down a journalist anymore. He was trying to protect her, and the stakes felt higher than they’d ever been.

He walked down the hall to his apartment, already tense as he thought about facing Wade. Wade wasn’t stupid; he’d been watching Logan grow more distracted, more distant. Sooner or later, Wade would start asking questions.

Logan opened the door, expecting to find Wade sprawled on the couch in his usual state of early-morning oblivion. But instead, he froze in the doorway, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene.

Wade was sitting upright, his expression oddly tight, watching as Stryker stood by the window, hands clasped behind his back. And next to Stryker, like some silent shadow, was Victor, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, a feral smile playing on his lips.

Logan’s stomach twisted. This wasn’t a casual check-in. Stryker and Victor didn’t just drop by without a reason. And the fact that they were here, together, sent a clear message: Stryker was losing patience.

“There he is. The big guy,” Wade said with a forced smile, his eyes flicking over to Logan. “Been wondering where you got off to.”

Logan shot him a hard look, cutting off any more commentary. “Been following a lead,” he said, his tone clipped, hoping Wade would understand the warning. “Another dead end.”

Stryker turned, his gaze sharp and assessing, a faint smirk on his face as if he could see right through Logan’s words. “Seems like you’ve been running into a lot of those lately, Logan,” he said, voice cold and controlled. “It’s almost as if you’re not taking this mission seriously.”

Logan clenched his jaw, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “You’re the one who sent us out here with nothing but scraps to go on,” he replied, his voice edged with frustration. “If you want results, maybe you should’ve given us more than vague orders and a damn ghost to chase.”

Stryker’s smirk widened, but his eyes were steel. “Funny. I thought I gave two of my best men an easy task. Thought you’d be able to handle a simple journalist.” He let the word linger, his gaze narrowing. “Maybe I was wrong.”

Beside him, Victor let out a low, rumbling chuckle, the sound crawling up Logan’s spine. “Guess little brother’s gone soft,” Victor said, his grin sharp and predatory. “Maybe you need a little help… cleaning things up.”

Logan tensed, feeling the familiar pulse of anger at Victor’s taunt, but he held himself in check. He couldn’t afford to show weakness, not now. “We don’t need your help,” he said flatly, his eyes locked on Stryker. “We’re close. Just need a little more time.”

Stryker raised an eyebrow, his gaze shifting from Logan to Wade, lingering just long enough that Logan felt a flicker of unease. “Close?” he repeated, a hint of mockery in his voice. “Interesting, because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re stalled. Distracted, even.”

Logan forced himself to stay calm, but he could feel the weight of Stryker’s scrutiny, the way his gaze seemed to strip away the layers, looking for cracks. He could only hope that his face betrayed nothing.

Stryker continued, his voice low, almost a murmur. “You know, I’ve heard some… interesting things about this journalist. Reserved. Guarded. Not the type to let things go. The kind who might blend in, fly under the radar.”

Logan’s heart skipped a beat, but he kept his face impassive, refusing to give anything away. But out of the corner of his eye, he saw Wade’s expression shift slightly, a glimmer of realization in his gaze. Logan felt a jolt of alarm as he saw Wade put two and two together. But to his relief, Wade stayed quiet, his face carefully neutral.

Stryker’s gaze sharpened. “So, let me be clear. I don’t care how ‘close’ you think you are. If I don’t see results soon, I’ll send someone else to finish the job. Someone with… fewer sentimental attachments.”

Victor’s grin widened, his gaze fixed on Logan like a predator sizing up its prey. “Wouldn’t mind a shot at this mystery journalist myself,” he drawled, his tone laced with menace. “I’ve got a knack for finding people who don’t want to be found. And once I find them…” He flexed his fingers, his claws slipping out, gleaming under the dim light. “Well, let’s just say they don’t stay hidden for long.”

Logan forced himself to stay steady, even as his pulse pounded in his ears. He knew exactly what Victor was capable of, and the thought of Victor tracking her down, getting his claws anywhere near her, made his stomach turn. He wanted to tear into Victor, to tell Stryker to back off, but he knew he couldn’t afford to give anything away. Not now. Not with her life on the line.

“Give us another week,” Logan said, his voice steady but laced with an edge of warning. “We’ll find them. You have my word.”

Stryker tilted his head, considering him, his expression unreadable. For a moment, there was silence, the tension in the room thick and suffocating. Then he gave a slow, cold smile. “Two days,” he said, holding Logan’s gaze with an intensity that made it clear he wasn’t offering any second chances. “After that… well, let’s just say I don’t think Victor will have much trouble picking up where you left off.”

Logan gave a tight nod, refusing to look at Victor as he spoke. “Understood.”

Stryker’s smile widened, satisfied. “Good. Then I’ll leave you to it.” He turned, gesturing for Victor to follow, but paused at the door, looking back over his shoulder. “And Logan? Make sure your priorities are… clear. I’d hate to think you were letting personal feelings get in the way of your work.”

With that, he strode out, Victor trailing behind him with one last lingering look that sent a shiver down Logan’s spine.

The door closed, leaving Logan and Wade alone in heavy silence. Wade sat back, crossing his arms, his expression unreadable as he studied Logan.

“So,” Wade said slowly, his tone light but his eyes sharp. “The journalist. Guarded, quiet… maybe someone who likes books, keeps to herself. Ring any bells?”

Logan’s jaw tightened, refusing to meet Wade’s gaze. “Drop it.”

Wade didn’t. He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a murmur. “Look, Logan, I get it. But if you’re gonna do this, you’d better be sure, because if Stryker finds out…” He trailed off, his meaning clear.

Logan closed his eyes for a brief second, the weight of everything pressing down on him. “I know the risks,” he said quietly, his voice barely a whisper. “But I’m not letting them touch her.”

Wade studied him for a long moment, and Logan could see the gears turning in his mind, the flicker of understanding mixed with reluctant respect. Finally, Wade leaned back, letting out a low sigh.

“Then we’d better make this convincing,” Wade muttered, his voice low, wary. “Because if Stryker or Victor get even a whiff of what’s going on, it’s over.”

Logan nodded, feeling his resolve harden into something sharp and unyielding. He knew what was at stake, knew the dangers that lurked in every step they took from here on out. Stryker had given him a week, but Logan didn’t trust him to keep that promise—not when he’d seen the glint in Victor’s eyes, the barely restrained hunger. Victor would do it in a heartbeat if he thought it’d get him back in Stryker’s good graces. Logan could practically feel the weight of the clock ticking down, and he knew he had to move fast.

“She didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” Logan muttered, more to himself than to Wade. “She just… she wanted to expose the system. Stryker. Everything he’s done to us.” His voice caught, the frustration and regret boiling beneath the surface. “She didn’t deserve this.”

Wade studied him quietly, a strange seriousness in his gaze. “Yeah, well, maybe she didn’t,” he replied, almost reluctantly. “You think I’m okay with half the things we’ve done? Or with the shit Stryker’s made us do? Hell, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about getting out myself if I thought there was a real chance.”

Logan looked at him, surprised. Wade rarely let his guard down, especially when it came to their line of work. This was a side of him Logan hadn’t seen before—raw, unguarded.

Wade sighed, running a hand over his face. “Look, man. I’ll help you,” he said, his voice softer now, carrying a note of real sincerity. “I don’t want her getting hurt, either. I’m not a monster. I know what Stryker will do if he gets his hands on her.” He paused, his gaze steady. “She doesn’t deserve that. And neither do you.”

Logan swallowed, the weight of Wade’s words settling over him like a lifeline he hadn’t known he needed. “So what are you suggesting?” he asked quietly, his voice barely a whisper, as if speaking too loud might shatter the fragile trust hanging between them.

Wade’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “If we’re gonna keep her out of Stryker’s sights, we’re gonna need to make this whole thing look legit,” he said, his tone calculating. “Stryker thinks we’re fumbling around because we don’t have any real leads. What if we… create a lead?”

Logan’s brow furrowed. “You mean fake it? Give Stryker something to chase?”

“Exactly,” Wade replied, his lips curving into a sly grin. “We leak a location, a name—hell, we can even plant some fake documents somewhere. Make him think she skipped town, got scared, and ran. If he’s chasing a ghost, he won’t have time to look too closely at what’s right under his nose.”

Logan felt a surge of hope, a sliver of light cutting through the tension. “You think he’ll buy it?”

Wade shrugged. “Stryker’s not as sharp as he likes to think he is. He’ll buy it if we sell it right.” He paused, a hint of doubt flickering in his eyes. “But you have to be careful. We make this move, and it’ll have to be airtight. Stryker doesn’t give second chances, especially not to his own men.”

Logan clenched his jaw, the gravity of Wade’s plan sinking in. It was risky. If Stryker suspected even for a second that they were feeding him false information, he’d come down on both of them—hard. But if it worked… it could buy them the time they needed.

“All right,” Logan said, his voice resolute. “We do this. We give him a trail to follow, keep him looking in the wrong places.”

Wade nodded, his expression grim but determined. “We’ll need to make it convincing. A name, maybe a fake contact, some breadcrumbs leading Stryker out of town.” He hesitated, then added, “And we’ll have to act like nothing’s changed. Like we’re still hunting her down.”

Logan felt a pang of guilt twist in his chest. He hated the idea of lying to her, of making her think he was still on Stryker’s leash. But he knew there was no other way. Stryker had eyes everywhere, and the slightest slip could put her life in even greater danger.

“We can’t tell her,” Logan murmured, more to himself than to Wade. “She can’t know we’re setting this up.”

Wade’s gaze softened, a rare flicker of sympathy in his usually sardonic eyes. “She doesn’t need to know,” he agreed. “Sometimes it’s better that way. Protects her, keeps her out of the crossfire.” He gave Logan a measured look. “Just… make sure she knows she can trust you. Because if she doesn’t, this whole thing falls apart.”

Logan nodded, steeling himself. “She’ll trust me,” he said, his voice low and firm. “I won’t let her down.”

A tense silence fell over them, each of them lost in thought, running through the plan in their minds. Finally, Wade broke the quiet, his voice barely more than a murmur. “One more thing,” he said, his gaze flickering toward the door as if expecting Stryker or Victor to barge back in at any moment. “Victor’s already suspicious. I saw the way he was looking at you like he knew something was off. If he gets even a hint of what we’re doing…”

Logan’s face hardened a dangerous glint in his eyes. “I’ll handle Victor.”

Wade studied him for a long moment, then nodded. “All right. Then we’re doing this.” He clapped a hand on Logan’s shoulder, his tone a mix of seriousness and forced humor. “Look at us, playing the heroes. Who would’ve thought?”

Logan managed a tight smile, but his mind was already racing with what had to happen next. He’d have to lie to her, to keep her in the dark while they set up the fake trail. He’d have to act like nothing had changed like he was still hunting her down—even as he worked to protect her.

“Thanks, Wade,” he said quietly, his voice sincere.

Wade shrugged, giving him a faint smirk. “Don’t thank me yet. Let’s get through this first.” He glanced over his shoulder, his expression turning grim again. “And let’s hope Stryker buys what we’re selling. Otherwise… this could get messy. Real fast.”

Logan nodded the weight of the plan settling on his shoulders. They had one shot to pull this off, to create a believable enough story to keep Stryker and Victor off her trail. He knew it was a gamble, but it was the only chance he had to protect her—to keep her out of Stryker’s reach.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

Logan’s mind churned with the details Wade had suggested, the lies they’d need to tell to sell this deception. He’d be walking a razor-thin line, but he was prepared to do whatever it took to protect her. But as he made his way down the hall to her apartment, a faint sense of unease prickled in his chest, like he was already too late.

He paused at her door, listening, making sure the hallway was empty before he knocked. A few seconds passed, and then the door cracked open, her wary eyes peeking through. Relief softened her face when she saw him.

“Oh, hey,” she said quietly, pulling the door open wider to let him in.

Logan stepped inside, closing the door firmly behind him and turning the lock, his eyes immediately scanning her small living space—a habit he’d developed since deciding to keep her safe. But something was different. There was an energy in the room, a tension he couldn’t quite place… until he noticed the duffle bag sitting on her couch, half-filled with clothes, a few books, and a stack of papers she’d been hastily shoving inside.

He froze, his stomach twisting. “Going somewhere?” he asked, trying to keep his tone steady.

She glanced at him, her expression conflicted. “Logan…” she started, her voice a mixture of determination and regret. She dropped another shirt into the bag, then zipped it up, her hands lingering on the worn fabric for a moment. “I have to go. I can’t stay here anymore.”

Logan’s chest tightened. Part of him wanted to be proud of her for being so smart, so aware of the danger circling them. But a much larger part of him was panicking, scrambling for a way to keep her here, to keep her safe. “You don’t have to do this,” he said, his voice low, urgent. “You don’t have to run.”

She shook her head, letting out a shaky breath as she straightened, her eyes meeting his with a fierce resolve. “Yes, I do, Logan. You know it as well as I do. You’re not the only one they’ll send after me. If you’re not going to… finish the job, someone else will.”

He clenched his fists, frustration, and fear tightening his throat. She was right, of course, and it made him want to tear down the entire system that had brought them to this point. But he couldn’t just let her walk away. “You think I can’t protect you?” he asked, his voice rough, almost a growl.

She softened, stepping closer to him, reaching up to place a gentle hand on his cheek. “I know you can,” she murmured. “If there’s anyone in this world I’d trust with my life, it’s you. But that’s exactly why I have to go. I can’t let you risk everything for me.”

Logan swallowed hard, his heart pounding at her touch, at the weight of her words. “I don’t care about the risks,” he whispered fiercely, covering her hand with his. “I’m not letting them touch you. Not Stryker, not Victor… no one.”

Her eyes glistened, and for a moment, he saw the vulnerability beneath her determination, the quiet fear she’d been trying so hard to hide. But she shook her head, pulling her hand back. “I won’t be the reason something happens to you. I won’t be responsible for that.”

“You’re not responsible for anything except staying safe,” he countered, his voice barely controlled. “I’ve got a plan. Wade and I, we’re gonna mislead Stryker, make him think you’re gone, that you’ve disappeared.”

She hesitated, her gaze flickering with hope before it dimmed again. “That’ll only work for so long. Sooner or later, Stryker will figure it out, and he’ll send someone else to hunt me down. You know that.”

Logan gritted his teeth, fighting the frustration boiling under his skin. “Then I’ll deal with it when that happens,” he said, his tone fierce, final. “I’m not letting you throw yourself out there, just waiting for them to find you.”

She let out a bitter laugh, her voice trembling. “Logan, do you hear yourself? You’re talking about going up against Stryker, against Victor, against all of them. They’ll come after you, too. They’ll kill you. And I… I can’t have that on my conscience.”

“Then don’t,” he shot back, taking a step closer, his gaze burning into hers. “Don’t put this all on you. I’m choosing this, understand? This isn’t about guilt or responsibility. It’s about me protecting the one good thing I’ve found in a long, damn time. And I’m not walking away from that. Not now.”

Her breath caught, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She reached up to touch his face again, her fingers trembling. “Logan… I never wanted this to happen. I didn’t want you to get involved, to risk everything for me.”

“Too late,” he murmured, his voice softer now, filled with a raw honesty that he couldn’t hide. “I’m already involved. I’m not walking away.”

She stared at him, torn, her gaze searching his face as if looking for some reassurance, some certainty. Slowly, she lowered her hand, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “Logan… if I stay, it’ll only make things worse. You and Wade might be able to mislead them for a little while, but eventually… eventually, they’ll catch up. And I can’t keep hiding, knowing that every second, you’re risking your life just to keep me safe.”

Logan took a deep breath, trying to keep himself steady. He understood her fear, her need to run. But he couldn’t let her go. Not when he knew exactly what would happen if she faced Stryker’s men on her own. “Then let me come with you,” he said quietly. “We’ll disappear together. Start fresh somewhere. Somewhere they can’t find us.”

She looked at him, surprised, her eyes widening. “You’d… you’d leave everything behind?”

“In a heartbeat,” he replied, his gaze unwavering. “I’d leave it all if it meant keeping you safe. You think I care about Stryker? About Team X? That life’s got nothing for me. Not anymore.”

Finally, she opened her eyes, meeting his gaze with a mixture of determination and vulnerability. “If you do this… there’s no going back.”

“I know,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. He took her hand in his, his thumb tracing gentle circles over her knuckles. “But if it means keeping you safe, keeping you with me… then it’s worth it.”

After a moment, she squeezed his hand, nodding slowly. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, but filled with a quiet resolve.

Logan pulled her into his arms, wrapping her up tightly, as if he could shield her from every danger waiting outside her door. He could feel her heartbeat against his chest, steady and warm, grounding him in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Just trust me, okay?” he murmured, his voice soft but fierce. He needed her to believe him, to know he wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

She nodded against his chest, her face buried against him, her hands moving up and down his back in gentle, comforting circles. For a while, they stood there in silence, wrapped in each other, until she looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with something that went beyond fear—something softer, deeper.

“Logan,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. She hesitated, searching his face. “Would you… kiss me?”

Her voice was fragile like she was afraid the question might break something between them. He looked down at her, taking in the delicate curve of her lips, the way they parted slightly as she spoke. Her cheeks were flushed, her gaze open and vulnerable in a way that hit him like a punch to the gut.

He swallowed, his thumb brushing over her cheek, unsure if she truly wanted this or if it was just the adrenaline, the danger, that was pushing her toward him. “Are you sure?” he asked quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “Is this… because of what’s happening? Or do you—”

But she silenced him by leaning in, her lips brushing softly against his. Her fingers slipped up to tangle in his hair. She kissed him like she was gathering her courage, like every fear, every doubt, was melting away with that one simple touch.

When she pulled back, her eyes met his, and he saw the truth there, raw and honest. “I’ve wanted this for a while,” she murmured, her voice steady, no hesitation left. “Hell, probably since that night at the club… but I was scared. Scared of what you might see if I let you in. Scared of getting close, because… because I thought I’d lose you, too.” She let out a shaky breath. “But I’m not scared anymore.”

Logan felt his defenses crumble, the walls he’d built around himself falling away under the weight of her words. She wasn’t running, wasn’t hiding behind excuses or fear. She was standing there, bare and unguarded, and trusting him with her heart. His chest tightened, an ache spreading through him as he realized just how much he needed this—needed her.

He leaned down slowly, giving her a chance to pull away if she wanted, but she didn’t move. Her gaze held his, steady and waiting, and he closed the remaining space between them, his lips capturing hers in a kiss. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, he felt the intensity build, something raw and desperate spilling over between them.

Her fingers tightened in his hair, her lips parting against his, and he deepened the kiss, pouring every unsaid word, every unspoken feeling into it. She tasted like warmth and hope and everything he’d thought he couldn’t have, everything he’d thought he’d lost. He held her close, his hands splaying across her back, anchoring her to him as if letting go wasn’t even an option.

“I’m not letting anything happen to you,” he murmured against her lips, his voice low and fierce. “Not while I’m here.”

She smiled, her gaze soft yet intense, and he felt her hands drift to his chest, coming to rest just over his heart. Her touch was light but grounding, a steady warmth that seemed to settle him in a way he hadn’t felt in years. “I know,” she whispered, her voice carrying a quiet certainty that made his heartache.

Her fingers moved slowly, almost reverently, tracing the lines of his chest before they dipped down to the hem of his shirt. She hesitated, looking up at him for permission, her eyes filled with a mixture of hope and need. Logan felt his breath hitch as she tugged gently at the fabric, her silent invitation hanging in the air between them.

For a moment, he froze, an instinctive caution holding him back. This was dangerous, selfish even. He knew he should be focusing on getting her to safety, on keeping his guard up. But with her here, looking at him like he was something more than a weapon, something worth risking everything for… he felt his resolve crumble. If this was the only chance they’d have to be together, then he couldn’t bring himself to turn it away. He needed her, needed this moment—something real and honest before everything went dark again.

With a quiet exhale, he lifted his arms, helping her pull his shirt over his head. Her fingers trailed against his skin as the fabric slipped away, leaving a faint trail of warmth in their wake. He could see the way she looked at him, her gaze softening as she took him in, the faint scars across his chest, the tension in his shoulders slowly easing under her touch.

Before he could say anything, she leaned up, pulling him into another kiss. This one was deeper, bolder, a raw edge of longing slipping into the gentle rhythm. Her hands moved up his chest, exploring the contours of his body with a quiet reverence that made him shiver. He wrapped his arms around her, guiding her backward, his hands steady on her waist as they sank onto the couch together.

They moved slowly, unhurried, as if savoring each touch, each shared breath. Her hands roamed over his bare skin, tracing the lines of muscle like she was memorizing him, piece by piece. There was a tenderness in her touch, a quiet understanding that made him feel seen, not just as Logan the soldier, the protector, but as something more—a man who had carried his pain, his regrets, and was finally allowing someone else in.

Her lips brushed along his jaw, down his neck, each touch light but deliberate, and he closed his eyes, letting himself be vulnerable in a way he never allowed himself to be. He felt her fingers tangle in his hair, her breath warm against his skin, and the weight of the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the quiet intimacy between them.

She pulled him closer, her fingers tracing along his shoulders. He could feel her heartbeat against his chest, steady and sure, grounding him in the moment. Every touch, every kiss was filled with a quiet urgency, an unspoken understanding that this might be all they had—a single, stolen night in a world that didn’t want them to exist together.

Her hands slipped beneath the waistband of his jeans, her fingertips trailing softly over his skin, and Logan shuddered under her touch. It wasn’t something he was used to—being touched like this, with care, with reverence—but he leaned into it, letting her pull him closer. His own hands moved instinctively, gliding down the curve of her back, mapping every line, every delicate angle as if trying to commit her to memory.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, her words full of quiet sincerity as she tugged his jeans down his hips. Her eyes roamed over him, taking him in as if he were something precious.

Logan huffed out a quiet laugh, the sound rough and unpracticed. “Beautiful?” he echoed, a faint, self-deprecating grin tugging at his lips. It was strange hearing that word directed at him—foreign in a way that made him feel both exposed and disarmed. “I’m looking at beautiful, and it sure as hell isn’t me.”

She shook her head, a gentle smile softening her features. “You don’t see it, do you?” she said, her gaze steady and unwavering, as though daring him to believe her. Before he could respond, she leaned down, brushing her lips against his, silencing his doubts. The kiss deepened, slow and consuming, and Logan felt the world narrow until it was just her—her hands, her lips, her warmth against him.

His hands moved to undress her in return, his touch deliberate and steady. He didn’t rush, savoring every inch of newly revealed skin, every sigh and soft laugh that escaped her lips as their barriers fell away, one by one, until there was nothing left between them.

Her body fit against his like it had always been meant to, her warmth grounding him as they moved together, finding a rhythm that felt both new and ancient, as if they’d known each other in a thousand lifetimes before this one. Logan let himself get lost in her—her touch, her scent, the quiet, breathless way she said his name like it was something sacred. For the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself feel fully present, fully alive.

When it was over, they lay tangled together in silence for a while, the room dark and still, their own private world created in the quiet spaces between breaths. Her head rested against his chest, her breath warm and steady, rising and falling in time with his. Logan ran his fingers through her hair absentmindedly, marveling at the softness of it, at how natural it felt to hold her like this. He felt her fingertips tracing lazy patterns along his side, as if she couldn’t bear to let go of him entirely. He wanted to say something, to tell her that he’d protect her, that he’d find a way to keep her safe no matter what. But he knew that promises like that were fragile, easily broken.

Instead, he pulled her a little closer, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. “No matter what happens tomorrow… tonight was real,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “This—us—it’s real.”

She looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with a quiet strength. “I know,” she whispered, her fingers tracing gentle circles on his chest. “You deserve this, Logan. You deserve to be seen…and to be loved.” Her voice wavered slightly on the last word, but she didn’t look away. 

Those words hit harder than he’d ever admit. He swallowed thickly, his throat tight. He wanted to argue, to tell her she was wrong, that he wasn’t worth all this. But the way she looked at him—steady, unflinching—made it impossible. She meant it. She saw all the broken, jagged pieces of him, and she wasn’t afraid of them.

He nodded once, unable to speak, and pulled her back down into his arms. She settled against him, her body curling naturally into his, and he let his hand trace down her back again, slow and deliberate. He closed his eyes, resting his chin against the top of her head. 

The apartment settled into quiet stillness, a fragile peace settling over them. They both knew the danger waiting just outside these walls, the fight that lay ahead was far from over. However, Logan knew he’d fight a thousand battles to keep this feeling, this moment. 

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

A loud banging jolted Logan awake, dragging him out of a restless sleep. He shot upright, disoriented, the harsh sound echoing through the quiet apartment. In his confusion, he rolled off the couch, hitting the floor hard. He cursed under his breath, fumbling to pull on his jeans when a sick feeling settled in his gut.

She was gone.

His eyes darted around the room, his heart pounding as he took in the emptiness around him. Her coat was missing from the hook by the door, and the books and papers she’d been packing away last night were gone. The duffle bag she’d packed was gone. 

He rushed through the apartment, searching—her bedroom, the bathroom, every small corner where she might have left something behind. But it was empty. 

No, no, no, he thought, his chest tightening with a fierce, helpless frustration. She’d left without a word, without so much as a note. After everything they’d shared, after he’d sworn he’d keep her safe… she’d still chosen to leave.

The banging on the door grew louder, more insistent, accompanied by a voice muffled through the thin walls. “Logan! Open the damn door!” It was Wade, but Logan couldn’t bring himself to move, couldn’t pull himself out of the numb shock settling over him. She was gone, and he didn’t know where. His promise to protect her felt hollow, empty.

He stood in the middle of her apartment, his eyes scanning the space as if hoping for some clue, something she’d left behind that would help him understand why she’d run. But there was nothing. Just the quiet, heavy emptiness where she’d been.

The banging turned into a relentless pounding. “Logan! For god’s sake, open up!” Wade’s voice was growing louder, more urgent.

Logan clenched his jaw, swallowing the knot in his throat. He headed toward the door with a sense of dread pooling in his stomach. When he opened it, Wade practically stumbled inside, his expression unusually serious.

“Finally,” Wade muttered, glancing over Logan’s shoulder as if expecting to see her. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been pounding on this door for ten minutes.”

Logan’s gaze was hard, distant. “She’s gone, Wade,” he said, his voice rough. “I woke up, and… she was just gone.”

Wade’s face twisted in a grimace, and he ran a hand over his face. “Yeah, I figured. She came by the apartment earlier. Banged on our door like her life depended on it. Woke me up.” He gave Logan a look that was half sympathy, half irritation. “She told me to tell you… she was sorry.”

Logan’s jaw clenched, anger and frustration boiling beneath the surface. Sorry. She’d left him with nothing but an apology after he’d risked everything to protect her. After he’d trusted her, let her in… after he’d started to think they could build something together.

“Did she say anything else?” he demanded, his voice a low growl. “Anything about where she was going?”

Wade shook his head, his expression darkening. “No. I’m sorry but it’s smart she got out of here.” He glanced over his shoulder, lowering his voice. “We’ve got a problem. I think Stryker’s onto us. He’s been sniffing around. I caught Victor hanging around across the street.” 

Logan’s fists clenched at his sides, the weight of the situation settling heavily on him. Of course, Stryker knew something was up. He should have expected this. The plan had always been risky, a desperate attempt to mislead a man who saw through lies like smoke. And now, with her gone, the whole thing was falling apart.

Wade leaned closer, his voice low and urgent. “Look, we need to move fast. Whatever you’re planning, we gotta do it now. If Stryker’s catching on, it’s only a matter of time before he comes after her for real. And if he finds her…” He trailed off, his meaning clear.

Logan’s heart hammered as he forced himself to focus, trying to pull his mind back from the raw edge of loss and anger. “She thinks she’s protecting me,” he said bitterly, more to himself than to Wade. “Running because she thinks I’ll be safer if she’s not here.”

Wade raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of exasperation and reluctant sympathy. “Sounds like she’s smarter than the both of us. Hell, I’d run too if I thought it would keep me off Victor’s radar.”

Logan shot him a hard look, his fists clenching tighter. “She doesn’t know what she’s up against.”

“Maybe not,” Wade agreed, his tone unusually serious. “But she’s doing what she thinks is right. And for what it’s worth, I respect that. She’s not sitting around, waiting to be rescued. She’s trying to keep you out of this mess, and that’s… something.”

Logan felt a surge of frustration, the helplessness gnawing at him. “I don’t care what she thinks she’s doing. I’m not letting her face Stryker and Victor on her own.” His voice hardened, his resolve solidifying into something fierce and unbreakable. “I told her I’d protect her. And I damn well meant it.”

Wade looked at him, his gaze steady. “Then we’re gonna need to be smart about this,” he said, his voice low. “If she’s already on the move, there’s a good chance Stryker’s got eyes out for her. You need to get to her first before they do.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his mind racing as he considered their options. “We can use the plan. Fake her trail, lead Stryker in the wrong direction. But if he’s already suspicious…”

Wade shrugged, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Then we make him more suspicious. Feed him a lead so juicy he won’t be able to resist it. We throw everything we’ve got into it. Make it big, make it messy. Enough to keep him off her back while we get her out of here for good.”

Logan nodded slowly, a grim determination settling over him. It was risky, and it would take every bit of their combined skills to pull it off. But if it meant keeping her safe—if it meant giving her a chance to disappear, to live her life free of Stryker’s shadow—then he’d do whatever it took.

“All right,” he said, his voice a low growl. “Let’s get moving.”

Wade nodded, clapping him on the shoulder, his gaze sharp and focused. “You find her, I’ll handle the rest. Give me a few hours, and I’ll have Stryker running in circles.”

Logan looked at him, the unspoken gratitude clear in his eyes. “Thanks, Wade.”

Wade gave him a crooked smile. “Don’t thank me yet. Just don’t get yourself killed, all right? I’m not doing this solo.”

Logan managed a faint smirk, but his mind was already racing, already focused on one thing: finding her, convincing her that she didn’t have to run, that they could face this together.

He’d promised to protect her. No matter the cost, he was going to keep that promise.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

Logan followed her scent for miles, his truck tearing down winding backroads, kicking up dust as he pushed it to the limit. Her trail was faint but steady, and he clung to it like a lifeline, refusing to let himself consider what would happen if he lost it. By the time he’d driven nearly thirty miles out of town, the sun was setting, casting long shadows over the dense trees that lined the road. He pulled into a tiny, near-deserted town nestled against the edge of a sprawling forest. It was the kind of place you could disappear in, where strangers barely looked at each other and the silence was thick, almost eerie.

He parked his truck just outside a rundown motel, the scent of pine and damp earth mixing with her faint trace. She was close—he could feel it. A flicker of relief spread through him, mingling with the desperation he’d been fighting back since he’d found her apartment empty. He started toward the motel, his mind racing with what he’d say to her, how he’d convince her to stop running, to trust him one last time.

Just as he stepped onto the gravel path, he felt it—a familiar, chilling presence. A dark shadow in the periphery, slipping out from behind the trees like a predator closing in on its prey.

Logan stopped, every muscle tensing. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Gotta say, little brother,” came the low, mocking drawl, “didn’t think you’d make it this easy for me.”

Logan clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as he turned slowly, his gaze locking onto Victor’s hulking figure. Victor leaned against a tree, his arms crossed, that twisted grin on his face, eyes glinting with something dark and dangerous.

“You really shouldn’t be here, Victor,” Logan said, his voice a low, deadly warning. “Walk away. This doesn’t concern you.”

Victor let out a harsh laugh, pushing himself off the tree and stepping closer, his gaze sharp, predatory. “Oh, but it does concern me,” he sneered. “Stryker sent me to clean up your mess, seeing as you’ve gone all soft on us. Figured if you weren’t gonna take care of business, I’d handle it myself.”

Logan felt a surge of rage, his hands flexing at his sides. “You’re not touching her,” he growled. “She’s got nothing to do with this.”

Victor smirked, cocking his head as he looked Logan up and down, clearly enjoying the fire in his brother’s eyes. “Funny. That’s not what she thought a few months ago.” He took another step closer, his gaze cold and unfeeling. “Didn’t tell you, did she? I was the one who had a little chat with her back then. Warned her to stay out of Stryker’s business. But she didn’t listen. Thought she could just run off and hide.” He shrugged a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Should’ve put her down right then and there.”

Logan’s heart pounded as the pieces finally snapped into place. It had been Victor all along. Victor was the one who’d made her life hell, who’d driven her to run, who’d forced her into the shadows with a constant, gnawing fear that never left her. And now he was here, ready to finish what he’d started.

“You threatened her,” Logan growled, his voice dangerously low, each word laced with barely controlled fury. “That’s why she left her job. Why she has been looking over her shoulder this whole time? You’re the reason she’s running.”

Victor chuckled, a dark, twisted sound that only fueled Logan’s rage. “Yeah, she needed a little lesson in minding her own business,” he sneered, taking a slow, taunting step closer. “She was asking too many damn questions, poking her nose where it didn’t belong. Someone had to remind her there are places you don’t go unless you want trouble.” He tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with disdain. “And now, here you are, risking your neck for some nosy little journalist who should’ve known better. Makes me wonder if you’ve forgotten who you really are.”

Logan’s fists clenched, the muscles in his arms coiling like springs ready to snap. His knuckles were bone-white, barely containing the rage building inside him. “You don’t know a damn thing about her,” he spat, his voice cold, lethal.

Victor’s grin widened, his satisfaction evident in the cruel spark in his eyes. “Oh, I know enough. Enough to see she’s turned you soft.” He let the word hang, taunting. “The Logan I knew wouldn’t be wasting his time on some pathetic little tagalong. The Logan I knew would’ve put a claw through her throat the second she got too close.” He shook his head in mock disappointment, his voice dripping with venom. “But now? Now you’re just a lovesick fool.”

Logan took a step forward, his chest heaving, the air around him almost vibrating with barely restrained violence. His voice was low, and steady, each word sharp as a blade. “Call it whatever you want. But you lay one finger on her, and I’ll rip you apart.”

Victor’s expression darkened, his twisted smirk fading as he squared up to Logan, rolling his shoulders, his fists clenching in anticipation. “You really think you can protect her from me? From us?” he sneered. “She’s a loose end, and I don’t leave loose ends.”

Logan felt a familiar, white-hot fury boiling up inside him. It was all starting to make sense now—Stryker’s vague orders, the lack of intel. Stryker hadn’t known the journalist’s identity at first. He’d been kept in the dark, fed just enough information to justify sending Logan and Wade on this mission. Meanwhile, Victor, arrogant and reckless, had dismissed her as a minor annoyance… until Stryker finally connected the dots and ordered her elimination.

Now, with Stryker’s orders confirmed, Victor was out for blood. He didn’t just see her as a target—he saw her as a loose end he should have handled himself long ago. And in Victor’s world, there was no forgiveness for those kinds of mistakes.

Logan knew he should keep a clear head, and should think strategically. But hearing Victor talk about her like that—as if she were nothing as if she didn’t matter—sent a roar of anger through his veins, drowning out any restraint he’d managed to hold onto.

Logan bared his teeth, the raw anger coiled tight within him. “Let Stryker try,” he snarled. “I’ll take him down myself if I have to. And you? You’re gonna regret coming here.”

Victor let out a low, menacing laugh, shaking his head. “Always so dramatic.” He glanced toward the motel, a twisted gleam in his eyes. “You think she’s safe in there? Right now, hiding, waiting for you to come sweep her off her feet? She’s already dead, Logan. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

Logan lunged forward, fists flying as he swung at Victor with everything he had. But Victor was ready, sidestepping and delivering a brutal punch to Logan’s ribs, sending him staggering back. Pain flared up his side, but Logan didn’t back down. He launched himself at Victor again, his claws slipping out.

They clashed in a blur of movement, snarling, claws slashing, each one trying to gain the upper hand. The forest echoed with the sounds of their struggle, leaves crunching underfoot as they grappled, neither willing to give an inch. Logan could feel the bruises forming, the sting of cuts across his skin, but he pushed it aside, focusing only on one thing: keeping Victor away from her.

Victor laughed, a cruel sound that grated against Logan’s ears. “You’re wasting your time, little brother,” he taunted, dodging another swing. “You can’t protect her from this. You’re only dragging it out, making it harder for her in the end.”

Logan’s vision blurred with rage, his mind flashing to her face, the way she’d looked at him last night with such trust, such faith. “I’ll protect her from you, from Stryker, from anyone who tries to hurt her,” he spat. “She’s not just some target.”

Victor’s grin faded, something dark flickering in his eyes as he lunged forward, their faces inches apart. “Then you’re as good as dead,” he whispered, his voice filled with cold certainty. “Because if you don’t kill her, I will.”

The words sliced through Logan, sharp and vicious, and he knew—this wasn’t just about her. This was about everything Victor and Stryker had made him into, everything he’d spent his life running from. And now, standing in the middle of this empty forest, he had a choice.

He drew back, chest heaving, glaring at Victor with a look of pure determination. “Not this time,” he growled. “You don’t get to take this from me.” 

Victor smirked, but there was something wary in his gaze now. “We were supposed to stay by each other.” 

Before Logan could respond, Victor backed away, his eyes never leaving Logan’s, a silent promise of the bloodshed to come. Logan watched him disappear into the trees, his chest heaving as he fought to steady his breath. He knew Victor would be back. He knew Stryker wouldn’t stop until she was dead.

Logan understood why she’d run. He hated it, but he understood. He’d brought Victor here, right to her doorstep, and now she was in danger all over again. He felt a surge of frustration at himself, at the whole damn situation, but there was nothing he could do about that now.

He looked up at the rundown motel in front of him, its paint peeling and windows grimy, blending into the shadows of the forest like it had something to hide. Part of him knew he should keep his distance, and avoid drawing attention to her last known location. But he couldn’t just walk away, not without making sure she was okay.

Following her scent, he made his way down the narrow row of rooms until he stopped in front of one of the doors, his pulse pounding in his ears. Her scent lingered here, strong but fading. He knocked softly, hoping she was inside, praying she’d throw open the door and let him tell her that they could figure this out, that she didn’t have to run.

But there was only silence. The door creaked open under his touch, swinging inward with a quiet groan. Logan’s heart sank, dread clawing at him as he stepped inside. The room was empty.

Panic flared up in his chest, and for a split second, his mind went to the worst-case scenario. What if Victor had gotten here first? What if he’d taken her? Logan forced himself to breathe, to push the thought down. He couldn’t afford to lose control, not now.

He took a few steps deeper into the room, eyes scanning every corner. Her scent was everywhere—lingering in the air, clinging to the worn bedspread, the nightstand, the small chair by the window. But she was gone, vanished like a ghost.

A wave of relief washed over him, mixed with an aching sense of loss. She’d left before Victor could get to her, no doubt trying to throw him off her trail. She was smarter than he’d ever given her credit for, brave enough to stay one step ahead. But that didn’t stop the hollow feeling settling in his chest as he realized she was truly gone.

Logan’s gaze drifted to the nightstand beside the bed, where the drawer was pulled slightly open. Something about it caught his eye, and he felt a strange, uneasy pull as he reached for the handle. He slid the drawer open, his heart pounding, and found a folded piece of paper inside.

He unfolded it, his eyes scanning the messy, hurried handwriting that was unmistakably hers.

Logan,

If you’re reading this, it means you found me. Or at least, you came close. I don’t know what I expected, thinking I could slip away from you. You’ve always been relentless, and maybe that’s part of why I…

He paused, his heart clenching as he read the next words, written in smaller, more delicate script.

…why I fell in love with you.

That’s exactly why I can’t stay. I know you’d do anything to protect me, but it’s too dangerous. You’ve already risked so much, and the last thing I want is to be the reason something happens to you. You have your own battles to fight, your own ghosts to face. I can’t be one more burden for you to carry.

I’m sorry for all of this. For dragging you into my mess, for making you feel like you had to choose between protecting me and yourself. You don’t deserve that.

This… us… it’s better this way. I’ll find a way to keep myself safe, and maybe someday, we’ll meet again under different circumstances. But for now, I need you to let me go. 

I’ll always remember you, Logan. The way you looked at me, the way you made me feel like I mattered in a world that had tried so hard to erase me. You gave me something I didn’t know I was missing, and I’ll be grateful for that, always.

Logan’s hand shook as he held the note, his breath catching in his throat. He read the words again, letting each one sink in like a dagger, twisting deeper with every line. She loved him. She loved him enough to let him go, to believe that leaving was the only way to protect him.

A raw ache spread through his chest, mingling with a fierce anger that he couldn’t direct at anyone but himself. She thought she was doing what was best, though she was sparing him somehow. But didn’t she understand? There was no protecting him from this. There was no way he could just let her walk out of his life.

Logan closed his eyes, swallowing hard. He could practically hear her voice in those words, feel her resolve, her heartbreak. She was trying to be strong, to be brave. But she was wrong if she thought he’d let her face this alone.

Logan stared down at the note, his hand shaking as he folded it carefully, the paper crinkling under the pressure of his grip. Her words echoed in his mind, each line a quiet, devastating goodbye as if she thought he could just let her walk away and disappear without a fight. She didn’t understand—couldn’t understand—that there was no version of this world where he’d ever be able to let her go.

He slipped the note into his pocket, the weight of it settling against his heart like a brand, and took a final look around the empty motel room. The faded bedspread, the cracked mirror, the soft imprint of where she’d sat on the edge of the bed—it all seemed to echo with her presence, taunting him with the memory of how close she’d been, how real it had all felt. But now the silence was heavy, a hollow reminder of everything he’d lost, and the anger simmering inside him began to burn hotter.

His jaw tightened, a new determination hardening his features as he spoke softly into the empty room. “Sorry, darlin’,” he muttered, his voice rough, laced with a dark promise. “But you don’t get to decide that for me.”

With that, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room, his footsteps heavy and sure. The cool night air hit him as he stepped outside, filling his lungs and sharpening his focus. The quiet town was bathed in moonlight, casting shadows across the deserted streets, and at that moment, Logan knew exactly what he had to do.

He couldn’t keep playing defense, couldn’t keep letting Stryker and Victor call the shots. If he wanted to protect her, to end this once and for all, he’d have to confront the very men who had made him into a weapon. And if they wanted him to be the monster, the animal they’d tried to create… then that’s exactly what he’d show them.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

Logan made it back to the apartment just as dawn was breaking, the pale light casting long shadows across the empty streets. He hadn’t slept and hadn’t stopped moving since he’d left the motel. His mind was on a relentless loop, thinking of her, of Stryker, of the promises he’d made to protect her. But now, as he approached the bar’s entrance, he saw Wade waiting outside, slouched against the wall, a grim expression on his bruised face.

Logan’s eyes narrowed, taking in the fresh cuts and swelling around Wade’s left eye, the blood crusting at the corner of his mouth. His knuckles were raw, split open like he’d been in a hell of a fight. Logan’s stomach twisted.

“What the hell happened?” Logan growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Wade glanced up, managing a weak smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Victor happened. Thought he could beat the crap out of me,” he replied, wiping a smear of blood from his lip with the back of his hand. “I showed him, though. Stabbed him a few times.” He raised one of his katanas, the blade slick with blood that hadn’t yet dried.

Logan’s jaw clenched, his fists curling as he processed what this meant. “Victor was here?” he asked, barely controlling the fury simmering beneath his words.

Wade gave a tight nod, his expression turning serious. “Yeah. Came looking for answers shortly after you left. Seems he figured something was up, and started sniffing around. When I didn’t give him what he wanted, he got… persuasive.” Wade gestured to his bruised face, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I didn’t talk, but he knew enough to put two and two together.”

Logan cursed under his breath, pacing in a tight circle as he tried to keep his rage in check. “Did he go back to Stryker?” he demanded.

Wade nodded, wincing as he stretched a bruised shoulder. “Didn’t stick around long enough to ask him, but he took off right after he was done using me as a punching bag. If I had to guess, he’s already reported back to Stryker.”

The implications sank in like a stone. Stryker knew. They’d blown their cover, and it was only a matter of time before Stryker sent everything he had to hunt her down.

“Do you have any idea where they went?” Logan asked, his voice tight, barely controlled. He could feel the urgency gnawing at him, clawing up his spine, urging him to move, to find her before it was too late.

Wade shook his head, his expression frustrated. “No idea. But I did catch him muttering something about an island before he stormed off. Could be nothing… or it could be where Stryker’s holed up.”

“An island?” Logan’s mind raced, trying to connect the pieces. Stryker had always preferred remote locations, places that were hard to reach, and easy to defend. An island would be perfect for him, isolated and far from prying eyes. It would give him every advantage if he was planning to lay a trap.

Wade nodded, his gaze sharp. “Yeah. He didn’t say which one, but I did some digging after he left. There’s an old military facility about twenty miles off the coast. Rumor has it, Stryker’s been using it as a base for… whatever twisted shit he’s been up to lately.”

Logan’s eyes darkened, the pieces falling into place. “If Victor’s told him everything, Stryker will go straight for her. He’ll want answers, want to know how much she knows about Team X.” He didn’t say what they both knew Stryker would do to get those answers. Torture, interrogation… if Stryker got his hands on her, it wouldn’t end until she was broken.

Wade met his gaze, the usual sarcasm gone from his eyes. “Then we’d better move. If we’re gonna catch them, we can’t waste any more time.”

Logan took a deep breath, feeling the fire of determination settle into something ice-cold, something unbreakable. “You’re right. We get to that island, we take out Stryker, and we bring her back.”

Wade gave a grim nod, sheathing his katana with a sharp click. “Finally, something exciting,” he muttered, managing a smirk despite the bruises. “I was getting real tired of this babysitting gig. Let’s go cause some damage.”

Logan didn’t bother responding. His mind was already miles away, focused entirely on the mission ahead. He wouldn’t let Stryker get his hands on her. Not now, not ever. Stryker had taken enough from him, twisted enough lives. This was where it ended.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

Logan and Wade moved through the dense jungle in silence, each step sinking into the thick, damp earth. Shadows clung to them, swallowing their movements in darkness, but Logan’s senses were sharp, honed. The night air was heavy with the scent of pine and saltwater, the distant crash of waves muted by the thick canopy above. Overhead, the moon cast a pale, silver glow, but it barely touched the ground through the dense branches, leaving them in near-total darkness.

They’d anchored the boat a mile offshore, slipping onto the island undetected, and now the fortress loomed ahead—a grim, sprawling structure hidden on the far edge of the island. Tall walls surrounded it, topped with barbed wire that glinted under the floodlights, which swung in sweeping arcs across the perimeter. The place was built like a prison, and somewhere inside, she was trapped.

Wade glanced over, his usual smirk absent, replaced by a focused, steely expression. “So,” he whispered, barely audible over the rustling leaves, “we going in loud, or are we keeping it quiet? ‘Cause I gotta tell you, I’m itching to blow this place to hell.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his gaze fixed on the fortress. “We ambush them,” he said, his voice low and hard. “Stay together unless they try to split us up. If Stryker tries to run, he’s yours. I’m going for Victor.”

Wade nodded, his eyes gleaming with a hint of wild excitement. “Copy that, boss. But just so we’re clear—if Stryker so much as breathes in my direction, he’s getting a bullet between the eyes.”

They crept to the edge of the outer fence, crouching low as they scanned the patrols circling the perimeter. Wade pulled a pair of wire cutters from his pack and looked at Logan, waiting for the signal. Logan gave a sharp nod, and Wade moved swiftly, slicing through the fence just enough for them to slip through. Together, they moved like shadows, weaving between patrols and ducking under cameras, their every movement silent and precise. They reached the main building, slipping inside just as a guard passed by, oblivious to the intruders in the night.

Inside, the facility was cold and dimly lit, a maze of concrete corridors that smelled of metal and stale air. The hum of machinery vibrated through the walls, punctuated by the distant footsteps of guards. Logan’s senses were on high alert, his every nerve tuned to the sounds around him. And then he heard it—a faint, familiar voice echoing somewhere deep in the building.

His heart twisted, his blood running cold. It was her.

He signaled to Wade, and they moved swiftly through the winding hallways, following the faint sounds of conversation and the occasional clang of metal. They passed locked rooms and sterile, empty cells, their shadows stretching long under the flickering fluorescent lights. Finally, they rounded a corner, coming face-to-face with a heavy metal door at the end of a narrow corridor. There, standing guard with his back to them, was one of Stryker’s men.

Logan didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward, his fist connecting with the guard’s jaw before the man could react. The guard crumpled to the ground with a muffled grunt, unconscious before he even hit the floor.

Wade grinned, crouching down to pick up the guard’s keycard. “See? I told you we make a good team.” He swiped the card against the reader, and the door slid open with a mechanical hiss.

They slipped inside, weapons ready, and moved down a long, dimly lit hallway. At the end of it was a small room, and inside, Stryker waited.

He turned as they entered, a smug smile curling across his lips as if he’d been expecting them all along. His gaze flicked between Logan and Wade, his eyes gleaming with twisted amusement. “Ah, Logan,” he drawled, his voice dripping with mock warmth. “Right on time. I figured you’d come running. It’s almost… predictable.”

Logan’s fists clenched, his claws sliding out with a grinding schlikt. “Where is she?” he growled, his voice low, dangerous.

Stryker chuckled, his tone filled with cold amusement. “So protective. You know, I have to wonder—why are you so attached to this girl, Logan? Don’t tell me you actually care.”

Logan took a step forward, his gaze like steel. “Last chance, Stryker. Where. Is. She?”

Stryker held his ground, his expression unruffled. “You don’t get it, do you?” he sneered, crossing his arms. “This isn’t about her. It’s about you.” He tilted his head, studying Logan with a look of cold calculation. “Deep down, you knew exactly who she was from the moment you met her. Don’t try to deny it. Your instincts—the animal in you—knew she was the target. That’s why you found her so… intriguing.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing, his eyes locked on Stryker with a deadly intensity.

Stryker smirked, his voice dropping to a taunting whisper. “You’re just a weapon, Logan. A soldier. You may think you care about her, but let’s be honest—you’re only here because she was the job. It’s what you’re made for.”

The words twisted something inside Logan, old wounds reopening under Stryker’s taunts. But he forced himself to keep breathing, to keep control. Stryker was baiting him, trying to push him over the edge.

“Don’t pretend you’re anything more than the animal you are,” Stryker continued, his tone cold, dismissive. “She’s just a loose end, and you—well, you’re just the fool who thought he could be more.”

Logan’s vision went red. He surged forward, slamming Stryker against the wall, his claws hovering just inches from Stryker’s throat. “You don’t know a damn thing about me,” he snarled, his voice shaking with barely restrained rage.

Stryker laughed, even as Logan’s claws pressed dangerously close. “Go on, then. Prove me right. Kill me. Show me you’re exactly what I made you.”

For a moment, Logan’s grip tightened, his muscles coiled, every instinct screaming for him to end this, to make Stryker pay for every life he’d ruined. But then, from the corner of his eye, he saw Wade step forward.

“Logan,” Wade said quietly, his voice surprisingly calm. “He’s not worth it.”

Logan hesitated, the haze of rage clearing just enough for him to hear Wade’s words. Before he could react, Wade stepped forward, swinging the butt of his gun into Stryker’s temple. Stryker crumpled to the ground, unconscious, his mocking smile finally silenced.

Wade glanced at Logan, giving him a knowing look. “You don’t need to dirty your claws on him. Go find her.”

Logan took a steadying breath, his hands still trembling, his heart still pounding with fury. He forced himself to pull back, his gaze shifting away from Stryker and toward the door at the end of the hallway. He could feel her presence somewhere beyond it, faint but steady like a beacon pulling him forward.

“Go,” Wade repeated, nodding toward the door. “I’ll make sure this asshole doesn’t get back up.”

Logan nodded, giving Wade a look of gratitude. Without another glance at Stryker, he turned and strode down the hallway, his steps quickening as he neared the door. He pushed it open, his every sense alert, his every instinct focused on one thing: finding her, getting her out, and putting an end to this nightmare.

As he moved deeper into the facility, the walls seemed to close in around him, the smell of metal and cold concrete sharp in the air. But he didn’t stop. He could feel her, close now, her heartbeat faint but steady, guiding him through the darkness.

He reached the final door and Logan knew one thing for certain: he wouldn’t leave this island without her.

Logan pushed open the door and slipped inside, his movements fluid and silent. The room was dim, lit by a single harsh light overhead, casting long shadows across the cold concrete floor. There, tied to a chair in the center of the room, was her—face bruised, her wrists bound, her gaze defiant despite the fear lingering in her eyes.

Victor stood beside her, one hand gripping her shoulder, his claws extended just enough to graze her skin. He was watching her with a twisted, mocking smile, completely oblivious to Logan’s presence.

Logan’s chest heaved, the sight of her—wounded, terrified, but still holding her ground—igniting something fierce and uncontrollable inside him.

Victor chuckled, still oblivious, his voice dripping with disdain. “You thought you could get away, didn’t you? Thought someone was gonna save you?” He leaned in closer, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. “I hope he gets here in time, sweetheart.”

Logan took a single, slow step forward, his voice a low, menacing growl that filled the room. “Let her go.”

Victor froze, his body going tense before he slowly turned to face Logan. His eyes narrowed, a flicker of surprise quickly replaced by that familiar, twisted grin. “There you are, little brother. Took you long enough.”

Logan’s claws slid out with a grinding schlikt, the sound sharp in the stillness. “You wanted me here. Well, here I am.”

Victor laughed, a cold, mocking sound. “You know, you’re just proving my point, Logan. She’s made you weak. Look at you, risking everything for this pathetic little journalist.”

Logan’s gaze flickered to her for a moment, her eyes meeting his, wide and filled with relief. He felt the fury simmering inside him sharpen, and solidify. “Call it whatever you want. I’m done talking.”

Victor’s smirk faded, replaced with a cold, calculating look. “Oh, little brother,” he said, releasing her and stepping forward, flexing his own claws. “But let’s be honest—you’re not gonna win this fight.”

For a split second, something flickered in Victor’s expression, something almost… conflicted. It was as if he was wrestling with a thought, a shadow of doubt crossing his face before his jaw tightened, and the hardness returned to his eyes.

Victor glanced back at her, and for a moment, Logan thought he might waver, might change his mind. But then Victor’s face twisted into a sneer, and he shook his head. “No,” he muttered. “I don’t leave loose ends. Not for anyone.”

With that, he lunged.

They clashed in a blur of movement, claws flashing, each strike more vicious than the last. Logan’s world narrowed to the raw, brutal fight in front of him, the air filled with the sound of claws slicing through flesh, the impact of fists and bodies against concrete. Victor fought with a brutal edge, his strikes fueled by years of resentment, rivalry, of a twisted sense of superiority.

Logan had something Victor didn’t—a reason to fight beyond pride. He had someone to protect, someone whose life mattered more than his own. That gave him strength, an unbreakable resolve that kept him going even when the pain threatened to pull him under.

At some point during the fight, he caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye. She was watching, her gaze locked on him, her lips parted in a silent plea. It was all he needed.

With a roar, Logan tackled Victor to the ground, pinning him with one knee against his chest, his claws poised at Victor’s throat. “You’re done,” Logan growled, his voice filled with a quiet, deadly finality. “You’re done trying to control my life.”

Victor sneered up at him, defiant even in defeat. “You really think this changes anything? Stryker will come for her. And when he does, you won’t be there to protect her.”

Logan pressed his claws just a little closer, his voice a low, furious whisper. “Then he’ll get the same welcome you did.”

Victor’s eyes flashed with fear or the faintest glimmer of respect—but before he could respond, Logan brought his fist down, slamming Victor’s head against the concrete. Victor’s body went slack, unconscious, and Logan wasted no time turning back to her.

She was still in the chair, her hands bound, her face pale but determined. He crossed the room in two quick strides, his hands already working on the ropes around her wrists.

“Are you okay?” he murmured, his voice low, almost gentle.

She nodded, her gaze steady as she looked up at him. “I am now.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, relief flooding through him. He reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Just then, footsteps echoed down the hall, followed by a familiar voice. Wade slipped into the room, grinning as he wiped blood from his knuckles. “Stryker’s not gonna be a problem. Let’s just say he and I had a little… conversation.”

Logan nodded, his hand slipping into hers as he helped her to her feet. “Good. Then let’s get off this damn island.”

They moved quickly, with Wade leading the way back through the facility, every step taking them further from the nightmare they’d escaped. As they reached the edge of the island, the boat waiting for them on the shore, Logan held her close, his hand never leaving hers.

This time, he promised himself, he’d keep her safe—for good.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

The sun was just starting to dip below the horizon, casting a warm, golden light across the little cabin nestled at the edge of the forest. Birds chattered in the trees, and the steady murmur of a nearby creek filled the air with a peaceful hum. It was a quiet spot, secluded and off the grid, miles away from the life they’d left behind. And that was exactly how Logan liked it.

Inside the cabin, Logan was standing at the kitchen counter, brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to peel potatoes with a knife far too sharp for the job. His large hands weren’t exactly suited to delicate work, and he muttered under his breath as the potato slipped from his grip for the third time.

She leaned against the doorway, watching him with a soft smile tugging at her lips. It had been months since they’d escaped Stryker’s grasp, since that night on the island, and she still wasn’t used to seeing Logan like this—shirt sleeves rolled up, hair slightly damp from a shower, wrestling with a kitchen task like he was facing down an enemy.

“Need some help, chef?” she teased, crossing the room and taking the knife from him before he could protest.

He grunted, folding his arms and pretending to look annoyed, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “You think you can do better?” he asked, arching a skeptical eyebrow.

She rolled her eyes, deftly peeling the potato with a few smooth strokes. “I’m just saying, I’m trying to avoid a trip to the hospital. With the way you were holding that knife, I’d have to stitch you up by dinnertime.”

He let out a low chuckle, watching her with a look that was almost… awestruck. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe she was here, in this cabin they’d built together, her laughter filling the air, her hands moving with easy familiarity in their shared kitchen.

She finished peeling the potato and handed it to him with a little flourish, meeting his gaze with a mischievous smile. “There. Now maybe I’ll let you handle the boiling part. Think you can manage that?”

Logan rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t keep the grin off his face. “Keep talkin’, and I might just make you do all the work tonight.”

“Is that supposed to scare me?” she shot back, raising an eyebrow. 

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “Fine. I’ll let you cook… if you can keep that smart mouth of yours quiet for five minutes.”

She laughed, the sound filling the cabin, and Logan felt something settle in his chest, a quiet contentment he hadn’t known he could feel. She nudged him with her elbow and turned back to the counter, slicing the potatoes with practiced ease, her hair falling softly over her shoulder.

Logan watched her, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He’d never thought he could have this—a life so normal, so simple, filled with nothing but quiet, ordinary moments. It was strange, the way he felt more himself here, peeling potatoes and teasing her over burnt toast, than he ever had in all the years he’d spent fighting, running, surviving.

He reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from her face. She looked up, surprised by the softness in his gaze.

“What?”

He shook his head, his thumb lingering on her cheek for a moment longer than necessary. “Nothing. Just… I’m glad you’re here.” His voice was low, almost rough, like he wasn’t used to saying things like this out loud.

Her face softened, her hand coming up to rest over his, her fingers warm and gentle. “Me too,” she said quietly, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

They stood there for a moment, her hand resting on his, the world around them fading into a warm, comfortable silence. Then, with a little smirk, she nudged his hand away and turned back to the potatoes.

“Now,” she said, a glint of mischief in her eyes, “unless you’re planning on staring at me all evening, maybe you could make yourself useful and grab the salt.”

Logan huffed, grumbling under his breath, but he moved to grab the salt shaker from the cupboard, fighting the smile that kept creeping onto his face. He handed it to her, and she gave him a playful wink, her fingers brushing his as she took it.

They worked side by side in the kitchen, moving around each other with a practiced ease, like they’d been doing this for years. Now and then, their hands would brush, or she’d catch him watching her out of the corner of his eye, and he’d look away, a faint flush coloring his cheeks.

Later, as they sat down at the little table by the window, the last light of the sunset spilling across the room, she reached across the table and took his hand, lacing her fingers through his. Logan looked down at their joined hands, feeling that familiar warmth spread through his chest, a quiet happiness he still wasn’t used to.

She caught his eye, smiling softly, a playful spark in her gaze. “Logan… I love you, but you’ve gotta stop staring at me like that. You’re making me blush.”

Logan shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips, his thumb gently brushing over her knuckles as if memorizing the feel of her hand in his. “Can’t help it,” he murmured, his voice rough, almost hesitant. “I keep thinking… this is all a dream. Like I’m gonna wake up, and you’ll be gone, and I’ll be right back where I started.”

His gaze drifted around the room, taking in the little touches she’d added—a vase of wildflowers on the windowsill, her favorite books stacked messily on the coffee table, a soft throw blanket draped over the back of the couch. The cabin felt like a home now, filled with reminders of her presence, grounding him in a way he hadn’t realized he needed.

She squeezed his hand, her fingers steady and warm. “Logan,” she whispered, her voice gentle but firm. “I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to worry about that.”

He looked back at her, his expression softening as he let her words sink in. “You promise?”

She smiled, a warmth in her eyes that made his heart feel like it might break, just from the sheer vulnerability of it all. “I promise,” she said, lifting their joined hands to press a kiss to his knuckles. “I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, like it or not.”

A quiet laugh escaped him, and he felt some of the tension he’d been holding finally release. “Good,” he said, his voice thick, barely more than a whisper. “Because I don’t think I’d know what to do without you now.”

She tilted her head, studying him with that soft, patient look that always seemed to cut right through his defenses. “You don’t have to worry, Logan.”

He didn’t respond right away, just nodded, letting her words settle over him like a blanket, warm and reassuring. It was such a simple promise, but it held a weight he hadn’t known he needed. She was here, with him, and for the first time, he actually believed she would be—today, tomorrow, as long as he could hold onto her.

After a long moment, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze, a slow smile breaking across his face. “All right, then,” he said, voice low and steady. “Guess I’d better get used to it.”

She grinned, leaning over the table to press a quick kiss to his lips, her laughter filling the room like sunlight. “Guess you’d better,” she teased, brushing a hand through his hair as she settled back in her chair.

Bonus Scene

Inside, the cabin was cozy and warm, the smell of coffee lingering in the air. Logan sat at the small kitchen table, a newspaper spread out in front of him, though he wasn’t reading it. His eyes kept drifting over to her, watching as she moved around the kitchen, humming softly to herself. She was cooking breakfast—eggs sizzling in the pan, a pot of tea steeping on the counter. It was a simple morning, ordinary in every way, and that was what made it so perfect.

Logan leaned back, a rare, soft smile tugging at his lips. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt at peace.

Then, a loud, obnoxious honk shattered the quiet, followed by the crunch of tires on gravel.

Logan’s eyes narrowed, and she raised an eyebrow, sharing a knowing look with him. Only one person would make that kind of entrance in the middle of nowhere.

“Great,” Logan muttered, pushing himself up from the table. “Just when things were getting quiet.”

He opened the cabin door, stepping outside just as a beat-up old pickup truck pulled up, kicking up a cloud of dust. Wade grinned from the driver’s seat, his sunglasses crooked, his arm slung casually out the window. He looked as out of place in the peaceful setting as a wolf in a field of lambs.

“Logan!” Wade called, climbing out of the truck and stretching his arms overhead like he’d just driven across the country. “Nice little place you got here. Very… rustic.” He looked around, taking in the trees and the clear blue sky. “I see you’ve gone full mountain man.”

Logan folded his arms, fighting the urge to smile. “What are you doing here, Wade?”

Wade shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eye. “What, a guy can’t visit his favorite grumpy Canadian in the middle of nowhere? I was in the neighborhood.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “The nearest town is fifty miles away.”

Wade shrugged, unapologetic. ��Yeah, well, I heard there was good coffee around here. And maybe I missed the two of you. But don’t go getting all sentimental on me. It’s just a temporary lapse.”

She appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on a dishtowel and smiling despite herself. “Hi, Wade. You hungry?”

Wade’s face lit up, his gaze flicking from her to the warm, inviting cabin. “I knew I liked you for a reason,” he said, grinning. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Eggs and toast,” she said, gesturing for him to come inside. “Logan’s been chopping enough firewood to heat the whole forest, so I think we’ll be warm enough.”

“Don’t let him fool you,” Wade said as he stepped inside, glancing around the cozy cabin with a touch of surprise. “This guy’s a softie at heart. First, it’s firewood and breakfast in bed. Next thing you know, he’s knitting sweaters and taking up bird-watching.”

Logan rolled his eyes, but there was no real bite to it. He shut the door behind them, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall, watching Wade settle in as if he belonged there. Despite the sarcasm and theatrics, Logan could see it in Wade’s eyes—the genuine relief that they were all still standing, that the worst was behind them.

“So,” Wade said, taking a seat at the table and eyeing the spread of food appreciatively. “How’s life in the woods treating you two? Getting used to all this fresh air?”

She chuckled, pouring coffee into a mug and setting it in front of him. “It’s… peaceful,” she said, glancing at Logan with a soft smile. “Exactly what we needed.”

Wade’s expression softened for a moment, his usual sarcasm slipping away. “Yeah, I bet. You two deserve it. God knows you’ve been through enough.”

There was a moment of comfortable silence as they sat around the table, eating breakfast and enjoying the warmth of the cabin. Wade filled them in on the latest gossip from town, spinning tales of bar fights and questionable characters that made her laugh, and even Logan couldn’t hide a smirk or two. It was like a glimpse of the world they’d left behind but without any of the darkness or danger that had once haunted them.

Finally, as they finished eating, Wade leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head. “Well, this was nice. A little slice of domestic bliss.” He smirked, raising an eyebrow at Logan. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

Logan snorted, his tone dry. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t,” Wade said, but there was a glint of something softer in his eyes as he looked between them. “I’ll let you two lovebirds get back to your wilderness honeymoon.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes as she gathered the plates. “Thanks for stopping by, Wade. Really.”

He got up, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair. “Anytime. Someone’s gotta check in on you two, make sure you’re not turning into total recluses.” He paused, looking at Logan with a hint of something unspoken. “Take care of each other, yeah?”

Logan gave a curt nod, but his expression softened, and he clasped Wade’s shoulder, a rare show of gratitude. “You know we will.”

Wade grinned, pulling his sunglasses down over his eyes. “Good. And hey, don’t be strangers. You know where to find me.”

With one last nod, Wade stepped out of the cabin, heading back to his truck. They watched as he climbed inside, giving a quick wave before driving off, leaving a trail of dust in his wake.

As the truck disappeared down the dirt road, she turned to Logan, slipping her hand into his. They stood together in the doorway, watching the dust settle, feeling the quiet of the woods close in around them once more.

Logan looked down at her, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of her hand. “Guess we’re really out here now,” he murmured, a hint of wonder in his voice.

She smiled, leaning into him, her gaze soft. “Yeah. Just us.”

[jjsloverre]

my safe space -c.s

pairing: dealer!chris x sweetheart!reader

summary: chris takes a dangerous job and didn’t want sweetheart!reader to come so she wouldn’t get hurt, but her stubbornness causes the whole night to take a turn.

warnings: cursing, angst, mentions of fighting, mentions of blood, mentions of drugs

a/n: this idea has been in my mind this whole day and i just HAD to write it idk🌸

________________________________________

it was one of those nights, chris received a frantic phone call from one of his friends.

“bro we need you here! shits getting heavy and this dude wants your weed!”

chris was upset but didn’t want to wake his sleeping girlfriend, he grabbed his gun and his keys trying to walk out of the door but you caught him before he could go.

“chris? why do you have your gun? it’s 2:17, lay back down”

“wish i could sweetheart.. don’t wait up for me, i got something to handle.”

“okay… let me come then and i am not taking no for an answer. with that, she got something to wear, preferably some sweatpants and chris’ “fresh love” hoodie.

he sighed at her, but understood that she wasn’t gonna drop it. “can you get that weed off the table baby?” he asked.

she complied, grabbing his bag of weed and his rellos, and handed it to him. “damn i wanna roll up… fuck it they don’t gotta know i smoked it!”

“are you alright to drive chris?”

“yea i am, don’t worry”

chris rolls up a blunt and smokes it as they drive, you knew one thing about drug dealers because your own boyfriend is a drug dealer.

chris used to say this one thing you’ll always remember: “one thing you don’t do is mess with their money or weed.”

and chris was doing just that. messing with their weed and possibly their money.

“feelin ok baby? ima keep you safe ok? i’ll even stay in the car while i take this deal, i’m just sellin a few things and then we can go yeah?”

“yeah..”

once they finally reach the abandoned warehouse, chris informs his friends that he’d do the deal from his car since you were in the car. you wish he’d hadn’t done that.

“do you want something to eat princess? hold on i got your favorite snacks back here.”

he opens your favorite chips for you, while he sells the rest of the weed.

“why’d you smoke their stuff? i thought you said that’s dangerous..”

“i know baby i’ll be alright, they won’t know.. now how about i take your mind off of that for a lil bit..” he leans in, and gives you soft kisses all over your face.

just as you were giving him kisses back, a tall buff man was banging on the passenger window and startled the both of us.

“the fuck man? my girls in the car!”

the man swung the door open, nearly pulling you out the car. chris pulls his gun out, a clear warning to leave his girlfriend alone.

“you played with my weed sturniolo.”

“fuck…” your handsome boyfriend muttered. he gives you a quick kiss and exits the vehicle.

“c-chris.. no what are you doing? where are you going?” you frantically yelled.

“just give me ten minutes ok? don’t call the police or nothing just.. eat something and listen to music, i love you.”

“i-i love you too but don’t go please!”

“i’ll be fast as i can ok? ten minutes pretty girl”

once he leaves, he talks to the man, before you knew it, the man was beating chris senseless to the point he just got up and left.

you screamed, rushing out the car to see your boyfriend loosing tons of blood. you tried to stop his bleeding as much as you could, begging him to stay with you.

“chris… baby stay with me okay? please… i got you, just.. stay with me and i’ll get you to a hospital!”

he shook his head. “fuck baby i love you..” then, the whole world shook around you. chris finally revealed where the blood was really coming from. the gunshot wound on his chest, gushing blood.

“no chris.. please.. i need you.”

“i’ll try, best i can do mama, i love you”

with that, you grabbed your phone and dialed 911 as fast as you could.

“p-please help! my boyfriend… he’s been shot!”

you give the dispatcher your address, chris looks up at you one more time. “you’re my safe spot, my girl forever.”

with that he went unconscious, he was breathing but barely. what felt like an eternity, the ambulance finally shows up and takes your boyfriend into their care, you follow them to the hospital, praying your boyfriend will be okay.

________________________________________

-should i do a part two?

taglist: @sturniologirlzz @forgottxen

[dark-frosted-heart]

Tailor-made Love Story - Keith Howell Part 2/4

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this.

After I set Emma down like she asked, she curtsied before the rest of the adults.

(Where did you learn that? How cute)

It looked like a majority of the nobles were satisfied by the little lady’s greeting. However, there was one, who had supported the king’s younger brother, that frowned.

Noble who supported uncle: How thoughtless of you to bring a child to the meeting. It’s making me doubt how suitable you are to be our next king.

(Still hard on me like usual)

(Not that I didn’t expect it…)

Emma: Big brother Keith…

Keith: It’s alright.

I smiled at Emma when she worriedly said my name and held her hand.

(While I’m used to this, but this must be scary for a child)

(Still, Emma did her best with remaining courteous while facing the cold stare)

(I won’t let anyone hurt this child’s feelings anymore)

I pulled her behind me.

Keith: My apologies for bringing her along without giving notice. However, there were circumstances that made this necessary. I’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again, so just this once, let this go.

Noble who supported uncle: But—

Noble: Hey now, it’s fine. Luckily we’re not discussing anything confidential today. Since we have this lovely young lady with us, our discussion should go peacefully.

Noble who supported uncle: …

Keith: Thank you.

Though he didn’t look satisfied, he decided not to press any further after being appeased by the other nobles.

When the meeting started, Emma sat on my lap and drew so that she wouldn’t be in the way of the meeting.

Emma: …

(She seems a bit down after what happened earlier)

(Guess she was bothered by it in the end)

My heart ached at the sight of her looking sadder than before the meeting began.

(I’m sorry that a child has to worry about this)

(Once I’m done with my official duties, I’ll do something to make Emma happy)

--

As we headed toward my next duty after the meeting, Emma paused in her step.

Keith: What’s wrong?

I knelt down to her level, but for some reason, she wouldn’t look at me.

Emma: I’m tired…I wanna go back to the room and rest.

Keith: I see. Sorry I didn’t notice.

(The meeting earlier must’ve been boring)

(Even though I promised that I wouldn’t leave her alone, I might’ve pushed her too far)

Keith: Then let’s go back to the room. I’ll have Liam get you a snack. Is it alright if you wait while you eat? I’ll come play with you after I’m done with work.

(Now that I think about it, I remember a servant telling me about how she has a younger sister back home)

(I’ll ask her to play with Emma until I’m back)

When I got up and started toward my room, Emma stayed put for some reason.

Keith: Emma?

Emma: …

Keith: What’s wrong? Are you perhaps not feeling well…

Emma let go of my hand and took a step back.

Emma: Big brother has work, right? I’ll go back myself.

(What’s gotten into her all of a sudden?)

(She’ll get lost all by herself)

Worried, I took a step closer, but then she took another step back.

Emma: Do your best, big brother Keith!

Keith: Ah!

She waved and ran off with a smile. But the smile on her face somehow felt sad, which stirred something within my chest.

(I really can’t do this alone)

I decided to secretly follow her so that she wouldn’t notice me.

--

Like I expected, Emma ended up lost outside of the castle after wandering around the halls.

Emma: Where…am I?

(I should call out to her)

Emma: …No…I gotta pull myself together… If I don’t behave while he’s working, then…big brother Keith will be mad again.

(...That’s what’s been on her mind?)

(Emma really is so kind)

The sight of Emma crying made my chest ache. I couldn’t stand leaving her alone anymore so I pretended to be passing by when I called out to her.

Keith: There you are, Emma.

Emma: …!

Emma’s shoulders jolted in surprise and she turned away to wipe her tears.

Emma: Why are you here, big brother Keith? You have work so you shouldn’t follow me!

Keith: Ah.

Without looking at me, she ran off to hide her tears.

(Now what do I do?)

(She’ll keep running away if I go after her…)

Gardener: Oh, Prince Keith? What are you doing here at this hour?

Keith: Ah, you came at the right time. I have a favor to ask.

[sorchathered]

Got my sights set on you- Jake Seresin x reader

Pairing- Jake “Hangman” Seresin x reader

Warnings-language, drinking, Jake being a massive flirt

A/N- I don’t have much of a summary for this, just clearing out my wips for you all and found this little gem I wrote last summer! Hope you enjoy!

———————————————————————————

If there was one thing you knew about Jake Seresin it was that he was a massive flirt. Men, women, non-binary, didn’t much matter your gender he was a tease and everyone knew it. Lately he’d set his sights on you, and he was relentless. You had to admit you liked the attention, and dropping him down a peg with snappy comments was always entertaining. You enjoyed the banter between the two of you, it had been fun and games until one night you noticed another girl from the bar had seemed to catch his attention, pulling out all the stops for her instead of sitting and chatting you up. It shouldn’t have bothered you, it was just a game right? Neither of you had ever made a move and he had every right to talk to whoever he pleased. Rooster could see through all your bullshit, sidling up next to you as he followed your eyeline to Jake and the brunette that seemed to have him enthralled in conversation.

“So Vixen, when you gonna admit to yourself that this little thing you’ve got going with Hangman is more than a schoolgirl crush?” You glared up at him and opened your mouth to snap at him but it died in your throat when you saw the sympathetic look on his face, you hated that he could see how transparent you were. “It was just a crush, really, I thought I just enjoyed the back and forth but… shit rooster what am I supposed to do here? It’s Hangman we’re talking about, he doesn’t do relationships, and in the end I’ll just get hurt so what’s the point?” You cradled your head in your hands against the bar top as Bradley patted your shoulder. “Kid I hate to be the one to burst your doom bubble but if you gave that man the time of day he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. I've seen him when he’s just looking for a hook up and that’s not what this is with you. He may be chatting that girl up but he won’t take her home, in fact I don’t think he’s taken anyone home in months, most of the time he just moons over you. I bet if you walked over there right now and told him to take you home he’d be putty in your hands, you wield more power than you know honey.”

You rolled your eyes at him, there was no way in hell he was into you like that, but as rooster passed you a shot of tequila you glanced back at Jake and he was looking right at you. Fuck it, you were going for it. Tossing back the shot you squared your shoulders and swayed your hips as you walked towards him, he wasn’t paying a bit of attention to the girl talking his ear off anymore, eyes completely focused on you. “Hey Vix, haven’t seen you all night-“ he said as you pressed yourself between him and the brunette, shock crossing his features as you waved her off.

“Uh we were talking!”

“And now you’re not, see how that works?”

You hit her with an icy glare and blessedly little miss tag chaser seemed to take the hint, off to lick her wounds with god knows who. That wasn’t your business or your problem. Right now you need to keep the momentum going and get your man.

“So a little birdie told me that I should shoot my shot, how about it, Seresin? You talk a big game, wanna take me home?” For once in your life Jake Seresin was at a loss for words, mouth opening and closing like a fish, completely in shock.

“Uh-I- yeah-yeah absolutely. Sweet Jesus darlin’ please don’t fuck with me, I don’t know if my heart can take it.” The cocksure grin is back, but you can tell he’s still unsure, so you slide even closer and press your lips to his. It starts out completely innocent, just reassurance that you are actually into him, but you quickly remember who you’re dealing with and Jake Seresin certainly isn’t all talk, sliding one hand into your hair and the other into the back pocket of your jeans, running his tongue along your lips as you give him entrance, letting him make out with you right here in the middle of the bar, where all your coworkers can see.

You can hear whoops and whistles from your friends and it breaks you both apart, taking in deep breaths between your giggles. “Still up for taking me home?” You whisper as you smooth your hands through his golden hair, and where you expect more sexual innuendo and banter you’re left with something more. He smiles down at you and kisses your nose, the look he’s giving is melting you from the inside out, maybe Rooster was right; maybe this wasn’t just fun and games. “I can definitely take you home sugar, but I don’t want just a hook up from you, I’m thinking tomorrow you let me take you on a real date, you deserve to be treated to all the bells and whistles baby girl.” If you gave him the chance he’d wife you up on the spot if he was honest, but he’d give you some time before he told you all the ideas he had for the future.

You looked a little shell shocked at that, sure he’d been flirty but he’d never once made you think he was interested in more than a night or two.

“I can see the wheels turning in that pretty head y/n, don’t overthink it baby, just let me show you how good I can be.”

And he was, in fact, very good.

———————————————————————————

Tagging- @roosterforme @shanimallina87 @jessicab1991 @honeytwrites @heavenssins @dizzybee03 @kissmecaitie @sio-ina-bottle @sunsetsimpsblog @mynameismckenziemae @trickphotography2 @seitmai @callsigns-haze

[scribbly-artist]

Paint War

Summary: After talking Jinx down so they both didn’t get blown up, Ekko assists Jinx in getting everything ready to help in the big fight. They can’t crash the party looking all cool without some sick paint designs on their outfits though!

Author’s Notes: Thank you to this anon for the prompt requests for this fic! Despite not writing for Jinx or Ekko previously, I had a lot of fun trying to write them. :P Like everyone, I’m under the assumption they talked and maybe hung out between Ekko convincing Jinx to not hurt herself/blow them both up and the big fight. So here’s a little something I think could have happened!

Words: ~1,300 | AO3 Link

“You think this’ll work?” Ekko asked with doubt laced in his voice.

“Of course it will. You helped me build it, after all.” Jinx responded as she sat on a stool at what was originally her makeshift workbench.

The Boy Savior had managed to talk The Loose Cannon down from trying to hurt herself (both of them, really. If that explosive went off without Ekko using the Z-Drive, they’d both be dead) and convince her to fight as a major pawn in the clash between Piltover, Zaun and Noxus. With Ekko’s help, Jinx has converted her hideout into a secret weapon in the game of chess between the nations. They both needed to go and help so the whole world didn’t succumb to downfall. 

The big balloon was ready to go, just not launched yet. The weapons were attached, rebuilt to be more lethal and painted brightly. Just one final thing was missing in their plan…

“Now, we just have to look the part.” Jinx turned the stool so she could look at Ekko, who tilted his head in questioning. “We can’t go face first into a fight lookin’ like this. I need… something deadlier to wear. And we need paint!”

So they got to work. Ekko’s outfit didn’t need many changes, but Jinx wanted to rework her attire. She managed to make and attach a hood out of some extra cloth she had laying around to a big jacket, wrapped her chest with bandages and tape and tailored the rest of her outfit to her liking.

Jinx even dyed a few purple streaks in her hair.

“I haven’t gotten the chance to tell you that I dig the new hair,” Ekko commented, helping Jinx so she didn’t get hair dye everywhere. “I think it suits you better this way.”

“I don’t even know how long it’s been since I’ve had it this short. New trauma, new me, I guess.” She shrugged.

Ekko brought the paint cans up on the workbench, mixing a pot of it with a paintbrush so its colour would be consistent. “You really want paint all over you?” He asked as he took the brush out of the paint, holding a cupped hand under the brush so as to not make a mess if it dripped.

“Paint makes everything look cooler,” she replied. “Besides, you’re the pro at it. You painted more than me as a kid, and painted my cool hat I used to wear when we used to play…” her smile faltered to a frown as her eyes grew a little sad. “…back then…”

A sad sigh left Ekko as he pulled up his own stool, sitting down. “Once this is all over, we’ll figure this out. Okay?”

Jinx nodded and then shook off the sadness, spreading her arms out wide. “Let me be your canvas, Wonder Boy.”

He nodded as got to work. He started painting her clothes first, drawing different patterns and symbols on her outfit with a range of colours. This was very different to the murals he and his friends at the sanctuary were used to painting, but it was nice to try something different. And painting like this caused some more old memories to resurface into his mind.

“Heh, I remember when we did this as kids. You could never sit still,” he moved the paintbrush from the side of her jacket to her bare skin on her torso. Jinx shuttered at the sudden cold paint touching down on her skin with a shiver. “Whenever I painted on you before, you always squirmed because you were so ticklish.” He stated with a laugh, reminiscing.

“That w-was when I was just a kid, though. Not anymore.” Jinx replied. With Ekko’s comment, she was now hyper aware of the brush making contact with her skin.

But Ekko noticed that Jinx’s body went stiff. The exact same thing would happen when he painted her way back then.

“I dunno… Seems like that still rings true.”

“What? Me, ticklish? As if. That’s just a stupid kiddy feeling. I’m way past that now.”

Ekko swiped the brush, painting a long, colourful streak of bright green paint from her side all the way to her stomach. Jinx let out a strangled noise as her hand darted to her mouth to silence herself. Her eyes flew to look at Ekko’s face, a small smile across it.

“Ekko.” She tried to make her voice as stern as she could. Though, her vocal cords failed her in this moment. “Don’t even think about it.”

He didn’t even need to give a response as he started to drag the paintbrush around her skin with more tickly intent, from her stomach all the way to under her arm. Jinx let out a gasp as giggles started to slip through her defences, a hand swiftly latching onto Ekko’s wrist to stop him.

“Yohohou always did this when wehehe were kids, too.” She shook her head, giggling. This was so silly, but strangely she didn’t mind it. Thinking of her past self usually upset and hurt her, but with Ekko here… some parts didn’t seem as awful, at least.

“I just wanted to lighten the mood. You need all that spark and energy for the fight,” Jinx loosened her grip on Ekko’s wrist as he grabbed another paintbrush with some bright pink dyed bristles. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t tickle this time, I promise. Super serious now.”

“Pfft, fine.” Jinx gave in and leaned back in the stool, holding her arms back out with a bit of reluctance. Ekko got back to painting, the cold paint once again making Jinx’s skin crawl. She was focusing on trying to mentally block out the feeling of the paint sliding against her skin, until—

“Hahaha! Y-You’re totally doing it ohohohon purpose!!” She jumped off of her stool, surprising Ekko. His eyes grew wide as he stood up himself, waiting for a physical attack or something of the like from the other.

“No, I wasn’t! I swear!” He held his hands up in defence, the paintbrush that was in his hand clashing to the ground with a dull noise.

Jinx looked Ekko up and down in thought. And then a plan hit her. A somewhat menacing smile formed on her face, making Ekko shiver in place. She grabbed a loaded paintbrush of her own, a pretty bright blue.

“You’ve just started a tickle paint war. And I’m gonna win.”

Ekko had no time to react as Jinx launched herself in his direction, attacking him with whatever bare skin her own paintbrush could reach. He tried to run away with begs and pleads. He was ticklish himself after all, and Jinx knew that. But she didn’t relent.

Loud laughter bounced off the cave walls from both of them. Paint was flying in many directions as Ekko managed to grab another paintbrush to fight back during the brawl. They had a scuffle, seeing who could laugh the loudest. They were both entirely covered with bright, messy paint from head to toe once they called a truce.

Ekko looked at Jinx’s face, trying to catch his breath. “I think I missed a spot,” he moved back to the workbench, dipping his thumb in some purple paint. He made his way back to Jinx, holding her chin steady with one hand as he dragged his painted purple thumb across both of her cheeks, just below her eyes. “There. Think we’re ready now.”

Jinx laughed, eyeing Ekko’s body, colourful paint now all over him. “I think I did a good job, if I do say so myself.”

They shared another laugh together.

The calm before the storm.